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  as a successful movement on the part of the enemy, or one defeated by his superior strategy. The most probable account is that London was one of those colonies founded, about A.D. 49, by Ostorius Scapula, the successor of the prætor Plautius, for the protection and consolidation of Roman interests. Suetonius advanced from his campaign in Wales—as we have before recorded—to the relief of London; in A.D. 64, and although at this time London was famous for the number of its inhabitants and the extent of its commerce, which had been fostered and cherished by the influence of the Roman power, still the small force which Suetonius had under his command was unable successfully to govern it against the fury of the native enemies, who eagerly panted for the destruction of a town which was at once the monument of Roman triumph and the stronghold of Roman tyranny. Anxious that his small army should not be destroyed in an attempt to defend what was hopeless, Suetonius resolved to retreat and give up the city to the plunder of the Britons. All such as were willing to leave it were taken into his army, and, amid the cries and lamentations of the inhabitants, the city was abandoned by the Roman troops.

It was not long before the storm burst upon the wretched inhabitants, whom the insurgents massacred without pity or remorse, although the majority of them consisted of their own countrymen, against whom their rage appeared quite as much excited as against the Romans, on account of their submission to the common enemy.

Seventy thousand are computed to have perished in the slaughter.

Never before had such an indiscriminate destruction been witnessed in the island. Tacitus, in speaking of the Britons, says:—

"They would neither take the vanquished prisoners, sell them, nor ransom their lives and liberties; but hastened to massacre, torture, and crucify them, as if to avenge themselves beforehand for the cruel punishments which the future had in store for them."

Suetonius, uniting the fourteenth legion, the auxiliaries of the twenty-first, and the garrisons of the neighbouring towns, soon found himself at the head of 10,000 men; and with such an army no longer hesitated to meet the enemy, before whom he had hitherto deemed it advisable to retreat. With great skill, he took up his position at the entrance of a narrow defile, his infantry in the centre, the cavalry forming the wings.

The Britons, a countless multitude, advanced to battle without order and discipline, animated by the desire of vengeance and the hope of recovering their liberty.

Before the struggle commenced, a chariot was seen, drawn slowly through their ranks; in it was a female of tall stature and dignified bearing, enveloped in the folds of a long mantle, a chain of gold round her waist, and her long hair floating to the ground. It was the outraged Boadicea, who, accompanied by her daughters, appealed to the courage of her countrymen.

"The Britons," she cried, "are accustomed to fight under the command of a woman; there is no question now of avenging so many illustrious ancestors from whom I am descended, my kingdom, or my plundered treasures. Avenge me as a simple woman—as one of your own class. Avenge my liberty outraged; my body torn by the scourge; and the innocence of my daughters dishonoured! The Romans respect neither the age of our old men nor the chastity of our children; their avarice is insatiable. Are not our persons taxed?—do we not pay even for the permission to bear our heads? Nor is that all; the tax must be paid for those who cease to live. It was reserved for the execrable tyranny of the Romans," she added, "to raise a revenue from the dead. But there are just gods—avenging gods. A legion that dared oppose us has perished; the rest of the Romans conceal themselves, or already think of flight. They cannot hear without trembling the cries of so many thousand men; how, then, will they support the shock of your blows? Consider your countless battalions, reflect on the motives of this war, and you will understand that the day has arrived to vanquish or die. Such will—shall be the fate of one woman; let men live slaves if they will." (Tacitus, Annal xiv.)

Animated by these inspiring words, the recollection of their injuries, and the blood they had already shed, the Britons commenced the combat. The legion, with their eyes fixed upon their chief, waited the signal. It was given, and they advanced in a triangular battalion; the auxiliaries followed the impetuous movement, and the squadrons charged with their lances in rest. Nothing could resist that fearful shock. The immense multitude was put to flight, but the chariots containing their wives and children, who had followed to be spectators of their victory, barred the way. The victors spared neither women, children, nor animals. The carnage was fearful: 80,000 Britons remained upon the plain.

Boadicea, the witness and victim of this sad defeat, kept the promise she had made—not to fall into the power of the Romans—but ended her life by poison.

This victory re-established the reputation of the Roman arms; but it was not permitted to Suetonius to complete the task he had begun; he was shortly afterwards recalled to Rome, to answer charges brought against him by his enemies, and, although acquitted, lost the favour of a prince in whose reign no man of celebrity was spared.

Suetonius had the honour of training in the art of war the illustrious Agricola.

The first three successors of Suetonius in Britain were Petronius Turpilianus, Trebellius Maximus, and Vettius Bolanus; their government did not advance the empire, then divided between Galba and Otho, and afterwards between Otho and Vitellius.

During the reign of the last prince a civil war broke out among the Brigantes, whose queen, Cartismunda, proud of the alliance and support she received from Rome as the recompense of her treachery in delivering Caractacus into its hands, had given way to her lascivious passions. According to Tacitus, she expelled her husband Venusius from her throne and bed, and raised to his place his esquire Vellocate. This crime shook her authority; the people declared themselves in favour of the outraged husband, whose rival was supported only by the adulterous passion of the queen and the cruelties which he exercised.

The queen, seeing her throne in peril, called the Romans to her aid. They marched to her succour, and succeeded in delivering her from the hands of her indignant subjects, but Venusius remained master of her kingdom, and the Romans had the weight of another war to sustain.

Such was the state of Britain when Vespasian, having conquered his rival Vitellius, succeeded to the throne.


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258 XXIV

——,

You take me to task for the abrupt termination of my last letter. I broke off, you say, just when you thought I was on the point of explaining what I meant by a spirit: "Surely you have some theory of your own and are not content with disbelieving other people's theories." Well, I thought I had said before that I am content to know merely this about a spirit, that it possesses capabilities for loving and serving God, or other nobler capabilities corresponding to these. But if you press me to set up some theory of my own that you may have the pleasure of pulling it to pieces, I will confess to you that my nearest conception of a spirit is a personified virtue. This cannot very well be quite right; any more than a carpenter can be like a door, or like anything else that he has constructed. But it is the nearest I can come to any conception that is not too repulsively material. And sometimes, when I try to conceive of the causes of terrestrial thoughts, and emotions, and spiritual movements, I find myself recurring to the antique notion, hinted at in one or two passages of the Bible, and I believe encouraged by some of the old Rabbis, that there are two worlds; one visible, terrestrial, and material, the other invisible, celestial, and spiritual; and that whatsoever takes place down here takes place first (or simultaneously but causatively) up there; here, the mere outsides of

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text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Leathes, Stanley


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64 Mrs. Morel. “You know how he carries on and says he’s never told anything.”

“All right,” said Paul. But he would almost rather have forfeited the prize than have to tell his father.

“I’ve won a prize in a competition, dad,” he said.

Morel turned round to him.

“Have you, my boy? What sort of a competition?”

“Oh, nothing—about famous women.”

“And how much is the prize, then, as you’ve got?”

“It’s a book.”

“Oh, indeed!”

“About birds.”

“Hm—hm!”

And that was all. Conversation was impossible between the father and any other member of the family. He was an outsider. He had denied the God in him.

The only times when he entered again into the life of his own people was when he worked, and was happy at work. Sometimes, in the evening, he cobbled the boots or mended the kettle or his pit-bottle. Then he always wanted several attendants, and the children enjoyed it. They united with him in the work, in the actual doing of something, when he was his real self again.

He was a good workman, dexterous, and one who, when he was in a good humour, always sang. He had whole periods, months, almost years, of friction and nasty temper. Then sometimes he was golly again. It was nice to see him run with a piece of red-hot iron into the scullery, crying:

“Out of my road—out of my road!”

Then he hammered the soft, red-glowing stuff on his iron goose, and made the shape he wanted. Or he sat absorbed for a moment, soldering. Then the children watched with joy as the metal sank suddenly molten, and was shoved about against the nose of the soldering-iron, while the room was full of a scent of burnt resin and hot tin, and Morel was silent and intent for a minute. He always sang when he mended boots because of the jolly sound of hammering. And he was rather happy when he sat putting great patches on his moleskin pit trousers, which he would often do, considering them too dirty, and the stuff too hard, for his wife to mend.

But the best time for the young children was when he made fuses. Morel fetched a sheaf of long sound wheat-straws from the attic. These he cleaned with his hand, till each one gleamed like a stalk of gold, after which he cut the straws


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Letter 24] things; there, the causes and springs of action; the bodies down on earth, the spirits up in heaven.

This is but a harmless fancy. Let me give you another. You know—or might know if you would read a little book recently published called Flatland, and still better, if you would study a very able and original work by Mr. C. H. Hinton —that a being of Four Dimensions, if such there were, could come into our closed rooms without opening door or window, nay, could even penetrate into, and inhabit, our bodies; that he could simultaneously see the insides of all things and the interior of the whole earth thrown open to his vision: he would also have the power of making himself visible and invisible at pleasure; and could address words to us from an invisible position outside us, or inside our own person. Why then might not spirits be beings of the Fourth Dimension? Well, I will tell you why. Although we cannot hope ever to comprehend what a spirit is—just as we can never comprehend what God is—yet St. Paul teaches us that the deep things of the spirit are in some degree made known to us by our own spirits. Now when does the spirit seem most active in us? or when do we seem nearest to the apprehension of "the deep things of God"? Is it not when we are exercising those virtues which, as St. Paul says, "abide"—I mean faith, hope and love? Now there is obviously no connection between these virtues and the Fourth Dimension. Even if we could conceive of space of Four Dimensions—which we cannot do, although we can perhaps describe what some of its phenomena would be if it existed—we should not be a whit the better morally or spiritually. It seems to me rather a moral than an intellectual process, to approximate to the conception of a spirit: and toward this no knowledge of Quadridimensional space can guide us.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Le Caron, Henri


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Rh into lengths of about six inches, leaving, if he could, a notch at the bottom of each piece. He always had a beautifully sharp knife that could cut a straw clean without hurting it. Then he set in the middle of the table a heap of gunpowder, a little pile of black grains upon the white-scrubbed board. He made and trimmed the straws while Paul and Annie filled and plugged them. Paul loved to see the black grains trickle down a crack in his palm into the mouth of the straw, peppering jollily downwards till the straw was full. Then he bungled up the mouth with a bit of soap—which he got on his thumb nail from a pat in a saucer—and the straw was finished.

“Look, dad!” he said.

“That’s right, my beauty,” replied Morel, who was peculiarly lavish of endearments to his second son. Paul popped the fuse into the powder-tin, ready for the morning, when Morel would take it to the pit, and use it to fire a shot that would blast the coal down.

Meantime Arthur, still fond of his father, would lean on the arm of Morel’s chair, and say:

“Tell us about down pit, daddy.”

This Morel loved to do.

“Well, there’s one little ’oss—we call ’im Taffy,” he would begin. “An’ he’s a fawce un!”

Morel had a warm way of telling a story. He made one feel Taffy’s cunning.

“He’s a brown un,” he would answer, “an’ not very high. Well, he comes i’ th’ stall wi’ a rattle, an’ then yo’ ’ear ’im sneeze.

“ ‘Ello, Taff,’ you say, ‘what art sneezin’ for? Bin ta’ein’ some snuff?’

“An’ ’e sneezes again. Then he slives up an’ shoves ’is ’ead on yer, that cadin’.

“ ‘What’s want, Taff?’ yo’ say.”

“And what does he?” Arthur always asked.

“He wants a bit o’ bacca, my duckey.”

This story of Taffy would go on interminably, and everybody loved it.

Or sometimes it was a new tale.

“An’ what dost think, my darlin’? When I went to put my coat on at snap-time, what should go runnin’ up my arm but a mouse.

“ ‘Hey up, theer!’ I shouts.

“An’ wor just in time ter get ’im by th’ tail.”

“And did you kill it?” 5


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260 What, for example, do we mean when we speak of the Holy Spirit, and describe Him as the Third Person in the Trinity? I hope you will not suppose—because I happen to be a rationalist as regards the historical interpretation of certain parts of the Bible, or because I have not disguised my dislike of the formal and quasi-arithmetical propositions in which the Athanasian creed sets forth the doctrine of the Trinity—that I reject the teaching of the New Testament on the nature and functions of the Holy Spirit. Literary criticism may oblige us to regard the long discourses on the functions of the Paraclete or Advocate in the Fourth Gospel as being in the style of the author and not the language of Christ; but it is difficult to suppose that the sublime thoughts in those passages are the more inventions of a disciple of Jesus; and the characteristic sayings of Christ in the Synoptic Gospels bear cogent though terse witness to His acknowledgment of a Holy Spirit who should "speak" in His disciples, and "teach" His disciples what to say, when they were summoned before the bar of princes: "it is not ye that speak, but the Holy Spirit," Mark xiii. 11; "it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you," Matth. x. 20; "the Holy Spirit shall teach you in that very hour what ye ought to say," Luke xii. 12. I need not remind you how large a space "the Spirit" claims in St. Paul's Epistles, and especially of the use which the Apostle makes of the triple combination of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Even, therefore, if I could give no explanation of the whole of it, nor so much as put into words the faint glimpse I may have gained into the meaning of a part of this doctrine, I should be inclined to accept the existence of the Holy Spirit on the authority of Christ or St. Paul, as being a doctrine that does not enter into the domain of evidence, a conception of the divine nature from which I might hope to learn much,


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66 “I did, for they’re a nuisance. The place is fair snied wi’ em.”

“An’ what do they live on?”

“The corn as the ’osses drops—an’ they’ll get in your pocket an’ eat your snap, if you’ll let ’em—no matter where yo’ hing your coat—the slivin’, nibblin’ little nuisances, for they are.”

These happy evenings could not take place unless Morel had some job to do. And then he always went to bed very early, often before the children. There was nothing remaining for him to stay up for, when he had finished tinkering, and had skimmed the headlines of the newspaper.

And the children felt secure when their father was in bed. They lay and talked softly awhile. Then they started as the lights went suddenly sprawling over the ceiling from the lamps that swung in the hands of the colliers tramping by outside, going to take the nine o’clock shift. The listened to the voices of the men, imagined them dipping down into the dark valley. Sometimes they went to the window and watched the three or four lamps growing tinier and tinier, swaying down the fields in the darkness. Then it was a joy to rush back to bed and cuddle closely in the warmth.

Paul was rather a delicate boy, subject to bronchitis. The others were all quite strong; so this was another reason for his mother’s difference in feeling for him. One day he came home at dinner-time feeling ill. But it was not a family to make any fuss.

“What’s the matter with you?” his mother asked sharply.

“Nothing,” he replied.

But he ate no dinner.

“If you eat no dinner, you’re not going to school,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

“That’s why.”

So after dinner he lay down on the sofa, on the warm chintz cushions the children loved. Then he fell into a kind of doze. That afternoon Mrs. Morel was ironing. She listened to the small, restless noise the boy made in his throat as she worked. Again rose in her heart the old, almost weary feeling towards him. She had never expected him to live. And yet he had a great vitality in his young body. Perhaps it would have been a little relief to her if he had died. She always felt a mixture of anguish in her love for him.

He, in his semi-conscious sleep, was vaguely aware of the clatter of the iron on the iron-stand, of the faint thud, thud


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Letter 24] if I would reverently keep it before me and try to apprehend it. But I seem to have a glimpse of it. That influence or "idea" of the dead which, as Shakespeare says, "creeps into our study of imagination," and which reproduces all the best and essential characteristics of the departed—when this has once taken possession of us, do we not naturally say that we now realize "the spirit" of the dead, feeling that it guides us for the first time to the appreciation of his words and deeds? Now as God, the initial Thought, needed to be revealed to us by means of the Word of God, so the Word needed to be revealed to us by means of the Influence of the Word. Or, to put it more personally, as the Father needed to be revealed by the Son, so the Son needed to be revealed by the Spirit. Those who knew Christ merely in the flesh knew but little of Him, and had little understanding of His words. It was the Spirit of Christ that guided, and still guides, His disciples into the fuller knowledge of the meaning of His past life on earth and His present purposes in heaven.

I own, however, that l have sometimes felt at a loss when I have asked myself; "How is this Spirit a Person? And do I love Him or It? And if Jesus and the Spirit of Jesus are two Persons, then must I also infer two personalities for myself, one for my mortal terrestrial humanity, another for my immortal celestial spirit?" These questions are extremely difficult for me to answer with confidence: yet I feel instinctively that they have a profound and satisfying answer to which I have not yet attained; but I suggest some answer of this kind, "When we endeavour to form a conception of God we ought to put aside the limitations of human individuality. Now we cannot do this while we conceive of God simply as the Father, and still less while we conceive of Him simply as the Son; but we can do it when we conceive of Him as


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Rh on the ironing-board. Once roused, he opened his eyes to see his mother standing on the hearthrug with the hot iron near her cheek, listening, as it were, to the heat. Her still face, with the mouth closed tight from suffering and disillusion and self-denial, and her nose the smallest bit on one side, and her blue eyes so young, quick, and warm, made his heart contract with love. When she was quiet, so, she looked brave and rich with life, but as if she had been done out of her rights. It hurt the boy keenly, this feeling about her that she had never had her life’s fulfilment: and his own incapability to make up to her hurt him with a sense of impotence, yet made him patiently dogged inside. It was his childish aim.

She spat on the iron, and a little ball of spit bounded, raced off the dark, glossy surface. Then, kneeling, she rubbed the iron on the sack lining of the hearthrug vigorously. She was warm in the ruddy firelight. Paul loved the way she crouched and put her head on one side. Her movements were light and quick. It was always a pleasure to watch her. Nothing she ever did, no movement she ever made, could have been found fault with by her children. The room was warm and full of the scent of hot linen. Later on the clergyman came and talked softly with her.

Paul was laid up with an attack of bronchitis. He did not mind much. What happened happened, and it was no good kicking against the pricks. He loved the evenings, after eight o’clock, when the light was put out, and he could watch the fire-flames spring over the darkness of the walls and ceiling; could watch huge shadows waving and tossing, till the room seemed full of men who battled silently.

On retiring to bed, the father would come into the sick-room. He was always very gentle if anyone were ill. But he disturbed the atmosphere for the boy.

“Are ter asleep, my darlin’?” Morel asked softly.

“No; is my mother comin’?”

“She’s just finishin’ foldin’ the clothes. Do you want anything?” Morel rarely “thee’d” his son.

“I don’t want nothing. But how long will she be?”

“Not long, my duckie.”

The father waited undecidedly on the hearthrug for a moment or two. He felt his son did not want him. Then he went to the top of the stairs and said to his wife:

“This childt’s axin’ for thee; how long art goin’ to be?”

“Until I’ve finished, good gracious! Tell him to go to sleep.”


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262 being an all-pervasive Power, the source of order and harmony and light, sometimes as a Breath breathing life into all things good and beautiful, sometimes as a Bond, or Law, linking or attracting together all things material and spiritual so as to make up the Kosmos or Order of the Universe. The traditions of the Church have taught us that there has been such a Power, subsisting from the first with the Father and the Eternal Son, in whom the Father and the Son were, and are, united; and by whom the whole human race is bound together in brotherhood to one another and in sonship to the Eternal Father. What is this Being but the Personification of that Power which, in the material world, we call Attraction and in the immaterial, Love? Is it not conceivable that this Being which breathes good thoughts into every human breast should love those whom It inspires? And we—can we love our country, and love Goodness, Purity, Honour, Faith, Hope, and yet must we find it impossible to love this personified Love, this Holy Spirit? But if we love the Spirit of God, and the Spirit loves us, then we can understand how it may be called a Person."

I foresee the answer that might be given to these—I will not call them reasonings, say meditations. "All this is the mere play of fancy: you personify England, Virtue, Goodness, Hope, Faith, and the like; and such personifications are tolerable in poetry; but you do not surely maintain that such personifications have any real existence: in the same way, you may Find a certain conception of the Supreme Being useful for the encouragement of devotion, but you have no right hence to infer that this conception represents an objective reality, much less God Himself." My reply is that in the region of theological contemplation where demonstration, and proof of the ordinary kind, are both impossible, I conceive I "have a right" to do this on the authority of Christ and


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68 “She says you’re to go to sleep,” the father repeated gently to Paul.

“Well, I want her to come,” insisted the boy.

“He says he can’t go off till you come,” Morel called downstairs.

“Eh, dear! I shan’t be long. And do stop shouting downstairs. There’s the other children——”

Then Morel came again, and crouched before the bedroom fire. He loved a fire dearly.

“She says she won’t be long,” he said.

He loitered about indefinitely. The boy began to get feverish with irritation. His father’s presence seemed to aggravate all his sick impatience. At last Morel, after having stood looking at his son awhile, said softly:

“Good-night, my darling.”

“Good-night,” Paul replied, turning round in relief to be alone.

Paul loved to sleep with his mother. Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing. Paul lay against her and slept, and got better; whilst she, always a bad sleeper, fell later on into a profound sleep that seemed to give her faith.

In convalescence he would sit up in bed, see the fluffy horses feeding at the troughs in the field, scattering their hay on the trodden yellow snow; watch the miners troop home—small, black figures trailing slowly in gangs across the white field. Then the night came up in dark blue vapour from the snow.

In convalescence everything was wonderful. The snow-fiakes, suddenly arriving on the window-pane, clung there a moment like swallows, then were gone, and a drop of water was crawling down the glass. The snowflakes whirled round the corner of the house, like pigeons dashing by. Away across the valley the little black train crawled doubtfully over the eat whiteness.

While they were so poor, the children were delighted if they could do anything to help economically. Annie and Paul and Arthur went out early in the morning, in summer, looking for mushrooms, hunting through the wet grass, from which the larks were rising, for the white-skinned, wonderful naked bodies crouched secretly in the green. And if they got half a pound they felt exceedingly happy: there was the joy of


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Letter 24] St. Paul and the Fourth Gospel, and the general tradition of the Church. I would sooner believe that myself and my spirit have a dual personality; I would sooner recognize the presence of the Angels of England and France and the other great nations of the world about the heavenly throne, like the Angels of the seven churches of Asia or the Angel of the Chosen People; I would sooner acknowledge the actual personality of Hope, Faith, and I know not what other celestial ministers between God and man; I would sooner, in a word, believe that personality depends upon some subtle combination such as only poets have dimly guessed at, than I would give up the belief that there is beside the Eternal Father, and the Eternal Son, an Eternal Spirit, to the description of whom we can best approximate by calling Him personified Love.

Looking at the Spirit of God in this way I sometimes seem to discern a closer connection than is generally recognized between the Resurrection and the power of loving. You will remember that St. Paul constantly connects the Resurrection of Christ with the "Spirit;" Christ was "raised from the dead in, or by, the Spirit;" and St. Peter says that Christ was "put to death in the flesh, but quickened in the Spirit." Now this Spirit is the Power of Love. Do we ask for an explanation of this connection? It is surely obvious that the Resurrection of Christ would not have directly availed men (so far as we can see) unless it had been manifested to them. But how was it manifested? We think it was by love: on the one hand by the unsatisfied and longing love of the sorrowing disciples, creating a blank in the heart which could only he filled by the image of the risen Saviour; on the other hand by the unsatisfied and longing love of the Lord Jesus Christ, dying with a purpose as yet unfulfilled. Thus—so far as concerns the influence of the Resurrection


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Rh finding something, the joy of accepting something straight from the hand of Nature, and the joy of contributing to the family exchequer.

But the most important harvest, after gleaning for frumenty, was the blackberries. Mrs. Morel must buy fruit for puddmgs on the Saturdays; also she liked blackberries. So Paul and Arthur scoured the coppices and woods and old quarries, so long as a blackberry was to be found, every weekend going on their search. In that region of mining villages blackberries became a comparative rarity. But Paul hunted far and wide. He loved being out in the country, among the bushes. But he also could not bear to go home to his mother empty. That, he felt, would disappoint her, and he would have died rather.

“Good gracious!” she would exclaim as the lads came in, late, and tired to death, and hungry, “wherever have you been?”

“Well,” replied Paul, “there Wasn’t any, so we went over Misk Hills. And look here, our mother!”

She peeped into the basket.

“Now, those are fine ones!” she exclaimed.

“And there’s over two pounds—isn’t there over two pounds?”

She tried the basket

“Yes,” she answered doubtfully.

Then Paul fished out a little spray. He always brought her one spray, the best he could find.

“Pretty!” she said, in a curious tone, of a woman accepting a love-token.

The boy walked all day, went miles and miles, rather than own himself beaten and come home to her empty-handed. She never realized this, whilst he was young. She was a woman who waited for her children to grow up. And William occupied her chiefly.

But when William went to Nottingham, and was not so much at home, the mother made a companion of Paul. The latter was unconsciously jealous of his brother, and William was jealous of him. At the same time, they were good friends.

Mrs. Morel’s intimacy with her second son was more subtle and fine, perhaps not so passionate as with her eldest. It was the rule that Paul should fetch the money on Friday afternoons. The colliers of the five pits were paid on Fridays, but not individually. All the earnings of each stall were put


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70 down to the chief butty, as contractor, and he divided the wages again, either in the public-house or in his own home. So that the children could fetch the money, school closed early on Friday afternoons. Each of the Morel children—William, then Annie, then Paul—had fetched the money on Friday afternoons, until they went themselves to work. Paul used to set off at half-past three, with a little calico bag in his pocket. Down all the paths, women, girls, children, and men were seen trooping to the offices.

These offices were quite handsome: a new, red-brick building, almost like a mansion, standing in its own well-kept grounds at the end of Greenhill Lane. The waiting-room was the hall, a long, bare room paved with blue brick, and having a seat all round, against the wall. Here sat the colliers in their pit-dirt. They had come up early. The women and children usually loitered about on the red gravel paths. Paul always examined the grass border, and the big grass bank, because in it grew tiny pansies and tiny forget-me-nots. There was a sound of many voices. The women had on their Sunday hats. The girls chattered loudly. Little dogs ran here and there. The green shrubs were silent all around.

Then from inside came the cry “Spinney Park—Spinney Park.” All the folk for Spinney Park trooped inside. When it was time for Bretty to be paid, Paul went in among the crowd. The pay-room was quite small. A counter went across, dividing it into half. Behind the counter stood two men—Mr. Braithwaite and his clerk, Mr. Winterbottom. Mr. Braithwaite was large, somewhat of the stern patriarch in appearance, having a rather thin white beard. He was usually muffled in an enormous silk neckerchief, and right up to the hot summer a huge fire burned in the open grate. No window was open. Sometimes in winter the air scorched the throats of the people, coming in from the freshness. Mr. Winterbottom was rather small and fat, and very bald. He made remarks that were not witty, whilst his chief launched forth patriarchal admonitions against the colliers.

The room was crowded with miners in their pit-dirt, men who had been home and changed, and women, and one or two children, and usually a dog. Paul was quite small, so it was often his fate to be jammed behind the legs of the men, near the fire which scorched him. He knew the order of the names—they went according to stall number.

“Holliday,” came the ringing voice of Mr. Braithwaite.


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Rh Then Mrs. Holliday stepped silently forward, was paid, drew aside.

“Bower—John Bower.”

A boy stepped to the counter. Mr. Braithwaite, large and irascible, glowered at him over his spectacles.

“John Bower!” he repeated.

“It’s me,” said the boy.

“Why, you used to ’ave a different nose than that,” said glossy Mr. Winterbottom, peering over the counter. The people tittered, thinking of John Bower senior.

“How is it your father’s not come?” said Mr. Braithwaite, in a large and magisterial voice.

“He’s badly,” piped the boy.

“You should tell him to keep off the drink,” pronounced the great cashier.

“An’ niver mind if he puts his foot through yer,” said a mocking voice from behind.

All the men laughed. The large and important cashier looked down at his next sheet.

“Fred Pilkington!” he called, quite indifferent.

Mr. Braithwaite was an important shareholder in the firm.

Paul knew his turn was next but one, and his heart began to beat. He was pushed against the chimney-piece. His calves were burning. But he did not hope to get through the wall of men.

“Walter Morel!” came the ringing voice.

“Here!” piped Paul, small and inadequate.

“Morel—Walter Morel!” the cashier repeated, his finger and thumb on the invoice, ready to pass on.

Paul was suffering convulsions of self-consciousness, and could not or would not shout. The backs of the men obliterated him. Then Mr. Winterbottom came to the rescue.

“He’s here. Where is he? Morel’s lad?”

The fat, red, bald little man peered round with keen eyes. He pointed at the fireplace. The colliers looked round, moved aside, and disclosed the boy.

“Here he is!” said Mr. Winterbottom.

Paul went to the counter.

“Seventeen pounds eleven and fivepence. Why don’t you shout up when you’re called?” said Mr. Braithwaite. He banged on to the invoice a five-pound bag of silver, then, in a delicate and pretty movement, picked up a little ten-pound column of gold, and plumped it beside the silver. The gold slid in a bright stream over the paper. The cashier finished


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Leclercq, Carlotta


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264 of Jesus upon humanity—it was the Spirit of Love that raised Jesus from the abyss of inert oblivion and exalted Him to the right hand of God in the souls of men. I dare not say that, if Jesus had failed to root Himself in the hearts of men He could never have been raised from the dead; just as I dare not say that, if St. Peter had not been inspired to say "Thou art the Christ," the Church could never have been founded on the rock of heaven-imparted faith. Let us avoid this way of looking at things, as being repulsive and preposterous, putting things terrestrial before things celestial. Let us rather say that, because the rock of faith was being set up by the hand of God in heaven, therefore at that same instant the Apostle received the strength to utter his confession of faith; and because Christ's Spirit had soared up after death to the heaven of heavens and thence was bending down lovingly to look upon His despairing followers, therefore they received power to see Him again, living for them on earth.

Yet as regards ordinary men, I cannot help occasionally reviving that same preposterous method which I would discard in the case of Christ. And starting from terrestrial phenomena first, I sometimes ask myself, Is it possible that the resurrection of each human soul may depend upon the degree to which it has rooted itself in the affection of others? The Roman Catholic Church teaches that the condition of the dead may be affected by the prayers of survivors; and many abuses have resulted from a perverted and mechanical misinterpretation of that doctrine; but how if the spirit of a dead man actually owes its spiritual resurrection, not indeed to formally uttered petitions, but to the silent prayers, the loving wishes, the irrepressible desires, of fellow-spirits on earth and in heaven? How if a man lives in heaven and in the second life so far as his spirit has imprinted itself on the loving memories of others


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72 counting off the money; the boy dragged the whole down the counter to Mr. Winterbottom, to whom the stoppages for rent and tools must be paid. Here he suffered again.

“Sixteen an’ six,” said Mr. Winterbottom.

The lad was too much upset to count. He pushed forward some loose silver and half a sovereign.

“How much do you think you’ve given me?” asked Mr. Winterbottom.

The boy looked at him, but said nothing. He had not the faintest notion.

“Haven’t you got a tongue in your head?”

Paul bit his lip, and pushed forward some more silver.

“Don’t they teach you to count at the Board-school?” he asked.

“Nowt but Algibbra an’ French,” said a collier.

“An’ cheek an’ impidence,” said another.

Paul was keeping someone waiting. With trembling fingers he got his money into the bag and slid out. He suffered the tortures of the damned on these occasions.

His relief, when he got outside, and was walking along the Mansield Road, was infinite. On the park wall the mosses were green. There were some gold and some white fowls pecking under the apple-trees of an orchard. The colliers were walking home in a stream. The boy went near the wall, self-consciously. He knew many of the men, but could not recognize them in their dirt. And this was a new torture to him.

When he got down to the New Inn, at Bretty, his father was not yet come. Mrs. Wharmby, the landlady, knew him. His grandmother, Morel’s mother, had been Mrs. Wharmby’s friend.

“Your father’s not come yet,” said the landlady, in the peculiar half-scornful, half-patronizing voice of a woman who talks chiefly to grown men. “Sit you down.”

Paul sat down on the edge of the bench in the bar. Some colliers were “reckoning”—sharing out their money—in a corner; others came in. They all glanced at the boy without speaking. At last Morel came; brisk, and with something of an air, even in his blackness.

“Hello!” he said rather tenderly to his son. “Have you bested me? Shall you have a drink of something?”

Paul and all the children were bred up fierce anti-alcoholists; and he would have suffered more in drinking a lemonade before all the men than in having a tooth drawn.


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Letter 24] above and below? "Has the dead man kindled in the heart of one single human being a spark of genuine unselfish affection? To that extent, then, he receives a proportional germ of expansive and eternal life—might it not be so? And if it were so, then we could better understand how both the Lord Jesus Christ, and we mortal men, die in the flesh but are raised to a life eternal after death "in the Spirit" and "by the Spirit"—that great pervasive spiritual Power of Love which links all things in heaven and earth together.

I trust I have theorized enough to please you. I have done so because on the whole I think it best that you should see all the weakness, as well as all the strength, of my position—the credulous and fanciful side of it, as well as its breadth, its naturalness, its reasonableness, its spiritual comfort, its dependence on moral effort, its recognition of Law, its consistency with facts, and its absolute freedom from intellectual difficulties. Regarded in the ordinary way, as being the revivification of the material body, the Resurrection of Christ becomes an isolated portent in history; regarded naturally, it becomes the triumph of the Spirit over the fear of death, the central event of our earthly history. Central I say, but not isolated; because there are seen converging towards it, as it were predictively, all the phenomena of the evolution and training of the Imagination; all instances of true poetic and prophetic vision; the stars of heaven and all the creative provisions of night and darkness and sleep and dreams, nay even death itself. And what higher tribute (short of actual worship) can be paid to the personality of Christ than to say that "the phenomena of His resurrection are natural." I think if I were depressed and shaken in faith—as one is liable to be at times, not by intellectual but by moral considerations, when one feels that evil is stronger than it should be, both in oneself and outside


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266 oneself—it would be a great help to go and hear some agnostic saying with vehement conviction, "The resurrection of Christ was natural, purely natural." I should bid him say it again, and again; and I would go home and say it over and over again to myself by way of comfort, to strengthen my faith: "The manifestations of the Resurrection of Christ were purely natural. So they were. Things could not be otherwise. Being what He was, Christ could not but thus be manifested to His followers after death. It was the natural effect of Christ's personality upon the disciples; and through the disciples upon St. Paul. Then what a Person have we here! A Person consciously superior to death, and, after His death, fulfilling a promise which He made to His disciples that He would still be present with them! What wonder if He is even now present with us, influencing us with something of the power with which He moved the last of the Apostles! What wonder if He is destined yet for future ages to be a present Power among men until the establishment of that Kingdom which He proclaimed upon earth, the Fatherhood of God and brotherhood of man!"


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Pirate Party Declaration of Principles/4.0/1.0

= 1. Modern information technology opens fantastic possibilities =

We live in a time which is unique to human history. Never before have so many had the possibility to communicate so easily with each other. Never before have so many had access to so much knowledge. Never before has the spreading of information contributed to so many quick technical, cultural and economical advances, as well as having opened for new prerequisites and possibilities for participation and democracy.

This is the result of a technological progress which puts human relations in the center. While previous technological progress has minimised the physical distance between people, the modern information technology has strengthened the social and emotional ties between people, across both geographical and social obstacles.

The Pirate Party works for this progress to be a stepping stone towards a line of positive changes throughout Sweden, Europe and the rest of the world.

1.1 People's chances to communicate freely with eachother strengthens freedom, participation and democracy.
Thanks to the modern information technology, people no longer have to put trust in official communiqué and traditional news reporting. One can follow news in real time through the eyes of the people. This means that fewer assaults can happen without being noticed, and that different forms of humanitarian help can be sent quicker. Thanks to the new possibilities to communicate quick and easy with eachother, people can organise in new ways against dictatorship and oppression. We have already seen how this has led to the fall of some regimes, and the change in others.

Even in Sweden, the free communication aids democracy. New ways of participating in the political conversation are opening up. In the past, most people have been directed to newspapers' letters to the editor. Today, almost everyone has many possibilites of participating in the societal debates. The right and the possibility to be anonymous means that no one has to fear reprisals, which is important, because the democratic discussion is undermined each time a citisen is left out of it, for any reason. Active work towards participation strengthens democracy.

Free communication also increases the demands put on those in power. Information on misuse of power, which previously could remain hidden, can today spread quickly between people. This will, given time, demand further transparance from those in power, and can counteract a totalitarian development.

The Pirate Party wants the free communication to be cherished, and the protection of sources to be strengthened, to include all media sources and all employers. The possibility to be anonymous in public discussions should be kept. This is important because the societal debate must be including if democracy is to be all inclusive.

1.2 Free access to culture improves people’s chances at building a good life.
When knowledge and information can spread and change hands freely it gets easier and easier to develop new innovations, and to adapt old innovations for new conditions. This has been an important reason for the last few decades' quick economic development, and it has lead to a great part of the world's population taking the step from poverty to relative prosperity. In our country, solutions with open source play an important role for many successful IT companies, and a growing number of companies in other industries make a conscious choice to avoid registering for patents. Free use of information can thus be incorporated into viable business models, and increase the possibilities for the fruits of the development to help poverty stricken nations and individuals.

The technological development has also assisted in evening out the access to knowledge. Knowledge has earlier been accessible only for a minority. Today, a ten-year-old with internet access in Asia, Africa or South America has the same access to knowledge as a ten-year-old in Swedish towns like Svedala or Umeå. Millions of children and youths, who earlier couldn't get a proper education, now has access to humanity's collection of knowledge. If no other education is obtainable they have the chance to educate themselves. The revolution of information technology and the free access to knowledge and culture thus give many people new chances to take control of their own lives.

People with special interests can through the modern information technology in an entirely new way find each other and share knowledge, ideas and experiences. Through people's non-profit activities we can collect knowledge and competence in a way that previously required professional organisations to be kept. Many people can therefore enjoy a larger meaning in their non-profit work, as compared to before. Even more importantly, this unpaid work create large values, that in the end will be useful for the entire society. Societal structures therefore need to adapt to the fact that a growing part of the value of the society is created from unpaid work, in everything from traditional popular movements to internet based swarms.

1.3 Free communication strengthens culture and spreads both participation and experience to more people.
People have a natural need to give their environment depth and meaning. Throughout time, man kind has always interpreted her time and surroundings through culture, to better understand her own existence and role in society.

Sadly much of culture, much like knowledge, has throughout history often been a privilege for a few. Later years' technological development has created possibilities for more and more to experience, exercise and live off of culture.

Today, many forms of culture can be copied and distributed freely, and in this way it can reach many people who otherwise never would have taken part of it. Never before have young Swedes had so many different musical genres in their collections. Never before has it been easier to find odd films. Never before have so many people in the third world had the access to such a large and varied cultural supply.

Human culture has always developed as a result of cultural creators borrowing from each other, remixing and developing each other's ideas. New technology has made this easier than ever before, and in the past fifteen years we have seen an explosion of diversity and creativity in culture.

It has always become easier for more producers of culture to create their own works and adapt others. New technology has made it easier for cultural creators to find an audience for their own style, to keep contact with their audience and get responses from it. It has therefore become easier for many creators to take the step from hobby creation to professional work. The growing number of creators lead to a greater cultural out-pour and a richer cultural landscape.

The Pirate Party therefore want societal cultural politics to be built on a realistic understanding of how cultural creators work upon each other's triumphs (instead of a romantic myth of a lone genius creator). Cultural breadth and free spread of culture for private work should be encouraged. Cultural creators should be supported in exploring the possibilities of new technology.

Piratpartiets principprogram/4.0/1.0


text: Talk:Pirate Party Declaration of Principles/4.0/1.0


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Index talk:Cassell's Illustrated History of England vol 1.djvu

Editors of Volume 1 of 9

 * AdamBMorgan (file set-up basics as requested by Maury)
 * BD2412 various edits
 * Gumr51 (Raúl Gutiérrez, Mexico) various edits
 * Kathleen.wright5 (Australia) proofreader and validator,
 * Moondyne Proofreader and validator
 * ShakespearFan00 (British) (a gold-star editor! Lots of proofreading, correcting, and validating work)
 * Tannertsf *a gold-star plus* editor! Precise even in proofreading and this volume’s Transclusionist that pulls all of the pieces of a book together to make the final book. Without transclusion there is no book!!
 * William Maury Morris II {U.S.A.) some of everything (all images) except transclusion which requires more than I know how to do and thus the value of a transclusionist such as Tannertsf. —Maury (talk) 00:07, 6 May 2016 (UTC)

I would like to focus mainly upon the images. I have hopes others would correct my wording, &c. as they continue with the words on pages without images. This History of England, the motherland for many of us, whether it be bad or good, is the history of our ancestors, regardless of where we were born. There are 9 thick and heavily illustrated volumes to this history. —Maury (talk) 06:46, 12 September 2015 (UTC)


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 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES


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 A History of

Catholicity in

Northern Ohio and in the

Diocese of Cleveland From 1749 to December 31, 1900

by

The Rev. George F. Houck Diocesan Chancellor

Volume I

Cleveland Press OF J. B. Savage 1903


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The new emperor entrusted the government of the island to an experienced general named Petilius Cereales, who partially subdued the Brigantes, and was pushing the war with energy when his master recalled him.

His successor was Julius Frontinus, who reduced the Silures to obedience.

But it was reserved to another general to achieve the conquest of a proud and warlike nation, and to render it durable by the qualities of justice and moderation. The great man who gave this useful lesson to the world was Agricola, named governor of Britain in the year 78 of the Christian era. He had already visited the island, having served in the army as tribune, under the command of Suetonius Paulinus, who esteemed and treated him as a friend.

His first step was to repress the revolt of the Ordovices, whom he punished with rigour; he next renewed the attack on the island of Anglesea, which he took, owing to the courage of his German auxiliaries, who, not having vessels at their command, swam over the arm of the sea which divides it from Britain.

In the following campaign he extended the limits of the Roman government to the Tay, leaving strong garrisons on all the important points.

In his fourth campaign, Agricola crossed the Forth to the southern frontier of Caledonia, or Scotland, and erected, to repress the invasion of the warlike inhabitants, a line of fortifications between the Forth and the Clyde.

But it is as an administrator or civil governor that Agricola chiefly merits our praise. He lessened, as much as possible, the tribute levied on the vanquished Britons by an equitable adjustment, suppressed the most onerous monopolies, and multiplied the means of transport and commerce.

Having succeeded in gaining the good opinion of the people he was called to rule over by his valour and equity, the governor next tried to keep them peaceable by inculcating a taste for the arts and pleasures. He encouraged the erection of temples and forums, aided all public works by grants from the treasury, and caused the sons of the principal chiefs and princes to be instructed in the sciences. Gradually those who had disdained the language of the conquerors devoted themselves to its attainment. They assumed the toga, and affected the tastes, and in too many instances the vices, of their masters.

Titus, who had succeeded to the throne of his father, Vespasian, reigned but two years, and left the empire to the ferocious Domitian, who, like most suspicious natures, felt jealous lest any other name should become greater than his own. He did not venture, however, to recall Agricola, who was permitted to pursue his career of glory, and, in the fifth year of his government, advanced with his legions to the west, as far as the coast opposite to Ireland.

A statesman, administrator, and soldier, like the illustrious pupil of Suetonius, must have comprehended the advantage of conquering the sister island; the facilities which it would afford to the increasing commerce between Spain, Gaul, and Britain: he renounced, however, the enterprise from some unknown reason, and Ireland, for nearly a thousand years longer, preserved her independence.

The hostilities which were continually breaking out between the Maætæ and the Caledonians drew Agricola to the north of Britain. In his first campaign against them, which commenced in the sixth year of his government, the Romans experienced a severe check, as the enemy nearly forced their camp, and were only repulsed after causing considerable damage.

In the seventh and last year of his residence on the island, Agricola made his great attempt to subdue the ferocious nations, and his preparations were worthy his great military reputation and the magnitude of the task he had undertaken. He joined to his legions and auxiliaries from the continent, cohorts of Britons, drawn from the southern portion of the island; and supplied his army by means of a numerous fleet, which sailed along the coast.

The Romans advanced without encountering any serious obstacle as far as the Grampians, where the Caledonians, under the celebrated chief Galgacus, were drawn up to oppose them, 30,000 strong. The first ranks, consisting of the bravest of the tribes, occupied the level plain; the next and secondary ones covered the sides of the mountain, rising in half-circles one above another, as in a vast amphitheatre.

Tacitus has recorded the harangue of the leader of the Caledonians; it is bold, energetic, and worthy of the chief of a nation which—whatever its other defects—was, at least, impressed with an indomitable love of freedom and undoubted courage.

"We have no other resource but to conquer," said Galgacus; "and that is my principal hope; for battle, the glorious choice of brave men, is here the only safety for cowards. Behind us is the ocean and the Roman fleet; before us the Romans—brigands, devastators of the world, who, when they can no longer find land to ravage, search the seas. Neither the east nor the west have glutted their avarice, for they alone of all mankind covet alike the treasure of the rich and the dernier of the poor. To take, massacre, and pillage, the Romans call to govern; and when they make a desert, they say, 'Peace is established.' Our sons are carried off to serve in distant countries; our wives and sisters, if they escape the brutality of the enemy, are dishonoured by those who falsely call themselves our friends and guests; our fortunes are consumed in tributes, our food in supplies for their armies; our arms and bodies are wasted by blows and outrages whilst fortifying for them our marshes and lands.

"Courage! you who love glory, and you who hold to life. The Trinobantes, under a woman, burnt a colony and carried a Roman camp; and, if they had not slumbered in success, would have broken their yoke. We, who still are unshaken, unsubdued, and free, shall we not show on the first encounter what kind of men are the Caledonians?

"The Romans triumph by our discords; they render the vices of their enemies subservient to their advantage and the glory of their armies, who, formed by a mixture of so many nations, are kept together only by success, and will be dispersed by reverse. It is fear, it is terror—feeble bonds—which keep together these Gauls, Germans, and, I am ashamed to say, these Britons, who lend their blood to foreign dominion; these bonds once broken, and those who cease to fear will begin to hate. All the excitements to victory are here: no wife influences the courage of the Romans, no father will reproach their flight; feeble in number and ignorant of the country, they only behold the sea, and skies, and unknown forests, in the midst of which,


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 by


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Rh and poet exaggerated in order to emphasise opposing tendencies; even a democracy must have organisers, just as there must be some remnant of kindliness even among the students of Kultur. The real question is as to which shall have the last word in the State—the idealists or the organisers. Internationalists are in futile revolt against all organisation when they would have war of the proletariat on the bourgeoisie.

Democracy refuses to think strategically unless and until compelled to do so for purposes of defence. That, of course, does not prevent democracy from declaring war for an ideal, as was seen during the French Revolution. One of the inconsistencies of our pacifists to-day is that they so often urge intervention in the affairs of other nations. In the Middle Ages vast unorganised crowds set out to march against the infidel and perished fecklessly by the way. It was not from lack of warning that the Western democracies were unprepared for the present War. At the same moment, early in this century, to cite only the case of Great Britain, three honoured voices were appealing to our sovereign people and were not heard; Lord Rosebery called for efficiency, Mr. Chamberlain for economic defence, and Lord Roberts


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Rh solution, and the allusions in the verses in some respects disagree with things said by Lord Byron later. According to the poems, Thyrza had met him "Finally, in the verses of October 11, 1811—"There can be no doubt that Lord Byron referred to Thyrza in conversation with Lady Byron, and probably also with Mrs. Leigh, as a young girl who had existed, and the date of whose death almost coincided with Lord Byron's landing in England in 1811. On one occasion he showed Lady Byron a beautiful tress of hair, which she understood to be Thyrza's. He said he had never mentioned her name, and that now she was gone his breast was the sole depository of that secret. 'I took the name of Thyrza from Gesner. She was Abel's wife.' "Thyrza is mentioned in a letter from Elizabeth, Duchess of Devonshire, to Augustus Foster (London, May 4, 1812): 'Your little friend, Caro William (Lady Caroline Lamb), as usual, is doing all sorts of imprudent things for him (Lord Byron) and with him; he admires her very much, but is supposed by some to admire our Caroline (the Hon. Mrs. George Lamb) more; he says she is like Thyrsa, and her singing is enchantment to him.' From this extract it is obvious that Thyrza is alluded to in the following lines, which, with the above quotation, may be reproduced, by kind permission of Mr. Vere Foster, from his most interesting book, The Two Duchesses (1898, pp. 362-374).  Variants Notes


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 Bishop Horstmann's Approbation.

The great work which I proposed in 1899—a History of the Diocese of Cleveland —has now been completed. I know what labor has been expended by both the authors and the publishers in giving it to the Clergy, the Religious, and the faithful of the Diocese of Cleveland.

No one, unless he has undertaken such labor, can imagine how exact must be the investigation, and how careful and critical the examination, to make a faithful record of what has taken place in the history of a diocese from its beginning.

I feel assured that this History will be a model for the other dioceses of the country, and I hope it will incite capable men everywhere to take up the same character of work and carry it out with equal diligence and success. We need such records. They will be invaluable for future historians. They show what those who have gone before us in the Faith, bishops, priests and people, have done for the propagation and preservation of the Church in their day.

Our thanks are due to the Rev. Chancellor Houck who, for a number of years, and especially since 1899, has devoted so much of his spare time to this work, which I know is thoroughly reliable. We therefore commend it to our clergy and to the laity, and hope that Mr. M. W. Carr and the Catholic Historical Society, who have now finished the work, will be rewarded abundantly.

"Gather up the fragments lest they be lost." This History has fulfilled that precept. May others "go and do in like manner."

† Ignatius F. Horstmann, Bishop of Cleveland.

Cleveland, Ohio, Feast of St. Ignatius, Bishop and Martyr, February 1, 1903.


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Rh and twenty of the figures or postures of Aretino, and all different. The actors were so well represented and so naturally, as that they did seem actually to be speaking and doing. While some were disrobed, other were shown clad in the very same clothes, and with the same head-dresses, ornaments and weeds as they were commonly to be seen wearing. In a word, so cunningly was the book wrought and painted that naught could be more curious; and it had cost eight or nine hundred crowns, and was illuminated throughout.

Now this lady did show it one day and lend it to another, her comrade and bosom friend, which latter was much a favourite and familiar of a great Lady that was in the book, and one of the most vividly and vigorously represented there; so seeing how much it concerned herself, she did give her best attention. Then being curious of all experience, she was fain to look it over with another, a great lady, her cousin and chiefest friend, who had begged her to afford her the enjoyment of the sight, and who was likewise in the pictures, like the rest.

So the book was examined very curiously and with the greatest care, leaf by leaf, without passing over a single one lightly, so that they did spend two good hours of the afternoon at the task. The fair ladies, far from being annoyed or angered thereat, did find good cause for mirth therein, seeing them to admire the pictures mightily, and gaze at them fixedly.

These two dames were bolder and more valiant and determined than one I have heard tell of, who one day looking at this same book with two others of her friends, so ravished with delight was she and did enter into such an ecstasy of love and so burning a desire to imitate these


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Rh same luscious pictures, as that she cannot see out of her eyes till the fourth page, and at the fifth did fall in a dead faint. A terrible swoon truly! very different to that of Octavia, sister of Cæsar Augustus, who one day hearing Virgil recite the three verses he had writ on her dead son Marcellus (for which she did give him three thousand crowns for the three alone) did incontinently swoon right away. That was love indeed, but of how different a sort!

I have heard tell, in the days when I was at Court, of a great Prince of the highest rank, old and well stricken in years, and who ever since the loss of his wife had borne him very continently in his widowhood, as indeed was but consistent with his high repute for sanctity of life. At last he was fain to marry again with a very fair, virtuous and young Princess. But seeing how for the ten years he had been a widower he had never so much as touched a woman, and fearing to have forgot the way of it (as though it were an art that a man may forget), and to get a rebuff the first night of his wedlock, and perform naught of his desire, was anxious to make a previous essay. So by dint of money he did win over a fair young maid, a virgin like the wife he was to marry; nay more, 'tis said he had her chosen to resemble somewhat in features his future wife. Fortune was so kind to him that he did prove he had by no means forgot as yet his old skill; and his essay was so successful that, bold and happy, he did advance to his wife's fortress, and won good victory and high repute.

This essay was more successful than that of another gentleman whose name I have heard, whom his father, although he was very young and much of a simpleton,


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Rh did desire should marry. Well! first of all he was for making an essay, to know if he would be a good mate with his wife; so for this end, some months aforehand, he did get him a pretty-faced harlot, whom he made to come every afternoon to his father's warren, for 'twas summer-time, where he did frisk and make sport with the damsel in the freshness of the green trees and a gushing fountain in such wise that he did perform wonders. Thus encouraged, he feared no man, but was ready enough to play the like bold part with his wife. But the worst of it was that when the marriage night was come, and it was time to go with his wife, lo! he cannot do a thing. Who so astonished as the poor youth, and who so ready to cry out upon his accursed recreant weapon, which had so missed fire in the new spot where he now was. Finally plucking up his courage, he said thus to his wife, "My pretty one, I cannot tell what this doth mean, for every day I have done wonders in the warren," and so recounted over his deeds of prowess to her. "Let us to sleep now, and my advice is, to-morrow after dinner I will take you thither, and you shall see very different sport." This he did, and his wife found him as good as his word. Hence the saying current at Court, "Ha, ha! an if I had you in my father's warren, you should see what I would do!" We can only suppose that the god of gardens, Dan Priapus, and the fauns and wanton satyrs which haunt the woods, do there aid good fellows and favour their deeds of prowess.

Yet are not all essays alike, nor do all end favorably. For in matter of love, I have both seen and heard tell of not a few good champions which have failed to remember their lessons and keep their engagements when they came to the chief task of all. For while some be either too


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air service boys had no difficulty in retracing their steps, especially since Tom, with his usual caution, had been careful to remember the spot where the main road was joined by that coming from the country cemetery.

Once again they made their way past the ghostly looking stones.

"I can see our boomer now, Tom!" Jack cried, as if he had been a little afraid that something had happened while they were absent, and that they would find the airplane missing.

"You want to be mighty careful of that stuff," his chum warned him, as Jack stumbled over some unnoticed object, and only retained his balance by a supreme effort.

"That's a fact," mumbled the other. "Especially as there's no more where this lot came from. I attended to that, all right. But here we are, and now to get the holes plugged up."


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32

(It may be noted that the name Thirza, or Thyrza, a variant of Theresa, had been familiar to Byron in his childhood. In the Preface to Cain he writes, "Gesner's Death of Abel! I have never read since I was eight years of age at Aberdeen. The general impression of my recollection is delight; but of the contents I remember only that Cain's wife was called Mahala, and Abel's Thirza." Another and more immediate suggestion of the name may be traced to the following translation of Meleager's Epitaphium In Heliodoram, which one of the "associate bards," Bland, or Merivale, or Hodgson, contributed to their Translations chiefly from the Greek Anthology, 1806, p. 4, a work which Byron singles out for commendation in English Bards, etc. (lines 881-890):—The MSS. of "To Thyrza," "Away, away, ye notes of Woe!" "One struggle more, and I am free," and, "And thou art dead, as young and fair," which belonged originally to Mrs. Leigh, are now in the possession of Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B.—.)]


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180 "At last my time to make use of that little outfit has arrived!" Tom exclaimed. "I've carried it for months, thinking I'd need it badly some day or other. Well, that time is on us, and this repays me for all my trouble. Set that pail down, and be ready to lend a hand, Jack."

He fumbled in a pocket of the body of the plane, producing a small roll, which, upon being opened, disclosed several plugs of soft wood, such as might easily swell if moistened. There was also some wax, the kind fruit growers use in grafting new scions on old trees.

Tom carefully examined one of the holes in order to learn its exact dimensions.

"Just as I expected, it's perfectly round in shape, which makes it easier to plug up," he announced, pleased with his discovery. A minute later he had fitted one of the wooden pegs in tightly. Then he used the wax, which was just hard enough for his purpose.

"That one is finished, and I think it will hold fairly well," he remarked, somewhat to the surprise, as well as delight, of his companion, who had anticipated that it would take much, longer.

"You're a sure-enough wizard, all right, Tom," was his gratified comment. "Why, you're getting things put through in a jiffy. But I hope there isn't any danger of the petrol acting on the wax, and causing a quick leak."


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Rh "I've tested it, and feel certain it will hold for an hour or so, anyhow, Jack. And by then we ought to be back in camp."

"Will, if we have any luck at all," asserted Jack.

"Now I'll get busy on the other hole," continued Tom. "Though that isn't so important, as it's at the top of the reservoir. Still, it might be just as well to close it up in order to avoid waste. Besides, there's always danger of an explosion if your tank sprinkles this deadly stuff around."

Jack took occasion to step aside to where he could look up between the trees and glimpse the dimly seen chateau, knowing now just where to look for it. When he came back he had information to impart that he thought would please Tom.

"Still a blaze up there, Tom, showing that the conference isn't over yet."

Presently Tom straightened up.

"That is all done," he announced, in a satisfied tone. "And done well in the bargain. Now bring along your gas, and be careful how you pour it in. By good luck I've got a funnel that can be used. I'll hold it while you start things going. Jack. Easy now, no hurry; every drop is precious remember!"

The contents of the little pail was presently successfully transferred into the reservoir which Tom had so adroitly mended after its rough


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182 treatment at the hands of the Huns who worked the "Archies," or anti-aircraft guns.

Tom gave a sigh of relief when that part of the proceeding was finished. He had entertained a little fear that Jack, in his haste to get things over with, might spill the precious fluid on which so much depended.

Afterwards Tom examined for himself, and was satisfied.

"Not a sign of a leak yet, and there isn't going to be either," he told his companion, not exultantly, but nevertheless with confidence that a belief in the staying qualities of his own work justified.

"Now we can get going on the second part of our programme," Jack returned, as he once more cast a steady look toward the height on which the chateau stood.

"No need of staying here another minute, Jack. Nobody knows just what's going on over there, or how long those visitors mean to stay."

"All the same," the other air service boy mentioned, as if casually, "General von Berthold is giving his guests a regular jolly time of it. In these days of war I reckon the Huns are missing pretty much all their favorite drinks, and when they do strike a cellar full—and I guess they have it here—it's like drawing teeth to pry them loose. Listen, don't you hear them at it now?"


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Rh hot or too cold, in such wise that these humours, of ice or of fire, do take them of a sudden, others be lost in an ecstasy to find so sovran a treat within their arms; others again grow over fearful, others get instantly and totally flaccid and impotent, without the least knowing the reason why, and yet others find themselves actually paralysed. In a word there be so many unexpected accidents which may occur just at the wrong moment, that if I were to tell them all, I should not have done for ages. I can only refer me to many married folk and other amateurs of love, who can say an hundred times more of all this than I. Now such essays be good for the men, but not for the women. Thus I have heard tell of a mother, a lady of quality, who holding very dear an only daughter she had, and having promised the same in marriage to an honourable gentleman, avant que de l'y faire entrer et craignant qu'elle ne pût souffrir ce premier et dur effort, à quoi on disait le gentilhomme être très rude et fort proportionné, elle la fit essayer premièrement par un jeune page qu'elle avait, assez grandet, une douzaine de fois, disant qu'il n'y avait que la première ouverture fâcheuse à faire et que, se faisant un peu douce et petite au commencement, qu'elle endurerait la grande plus aisément; comme il advint, et qu'il y put avoir de l'apparence. Cet essai est encore bien plus honnête et moins scandaleux qu'un qui me fut dit une fois, en Italie, d'un père qui avait marié son fils, qui était encore un jeune sot, avec une fort belle fille à laquelle, tant fat qu'il était, il n'avait rien pu faire ni la première ni la seconde nuit de ses noces; et comme il eut demandé et au fils et à la nore comme ils se trouvaient en mariage et s'ils avaient triomphé, ils repondirent l'un et l'autre: "Niente.—A


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Rh Indeed, it would have been impossible for any one with ordinary hearing, when within half a mile of the chateau, not to have heard what Jack referred to. Some one was singing at the top of his voice, and a heavy voice he had in the bargain. He kept time with the rhythm of his song by repeated poundings on a table with what might have been a stein.

"Well, what nerve!" ejaculated Jack. "It's the Watch on the Rhine he's trolling, as sure as you live!"

"And with the whole bunch joining in the chorus in the bargain," added Tom, as the burst of singing suddenly grew stronger in volume. "They utterly refuse to believe they're whipped flat, even with the Americans ready to step over into Germany and mop 'em up all the way to Berlin."

"Huh!" snorted Jack disdainfully, "we'll soon be the ones keeping watch on the Rhine, see if we'll not. Only sillies with their wits flabbergasted by pride would shut their eyes to the handwriting on the wall. But I'm not sorry, for if they keep on enjoying themselves in that way we'll find it an easy job to roam all over the old shack, looking for Helene."

They were walking briskly along while exchanging these remarks in guarded tones. Greatly to their satisfaction they met no one while on the


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184 road. They had both wondered whether General von Berthold did not have a bodyguard camped somewhere near his headquarters, some of whom were likely to be moving about; though, to be sure, the hour was late for that sort of thing.

When they arrived at the scene of their previous escapade it was to find that one of the military chauffeurs had returned, and was even then taking a look at the engine of his car, for he struck several matches, and was thrusting his head down close to the machinery.

They halted to watch. A minute afterwards he tidied things up again, and Jack, hearing his loud yawn, decided he could not have discovered that some one had been meddling with his petrol supply.

Then the soldier vanished inside his big car, as though to find a comfortable seat, if his masters chose to linger an hour longer in celebrating with General von Berthold.

Tom led the way around, now approaching the building from an angle where they would be screened from the observation of the driver, did he chance to have his eyes open. They also took care to be ready to duck and lie low, in case the other chauffeur came from the back of the chateau.

But nothing happened to endanger them, and


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Rh presently they were seeking a means of entering the castle. This proved the easiest thing possible, for there were no locks or bars attached to the door they tried. Once this barrier had been passed, they found themselves in a great hall, just such as Jack had always believed, from his reading, must be connected with every such old-time castle.

A light burned low. It was in itself a quaint lamp, and at another time the boys might have found themselves very much interested in it as a relic of times long since past.

Of course there could be no system of modern lighting in use at such an isolated habitation. Besides, electricity would have seemed sadly out of place in connection with so much that belonged to bygone days.

The tall lamp on the newel post at the foot of the broad stairway gave enough light to show one where to walk; and just then the two prowlers asked for nothing more.

Over to the right lay the wing that had not suffered from the work of the Hun despoiler. It was there the German general entertained his associates, discussing business until a late hour; and then giving themselves up to a little social enjoyment, which evidently became so pleasant that it was hard to break away.

The boys decided that since this wing was the


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186 only decent part of the building remaining, they were apt to find the object of their search in one of the many rooms it contained.

Having no guide to assist them, they must make a thorough search, neglecting no possible room where the little girl might be sleeping.

Of course their dodging about the corridors would be accompanied by more or less danger of discovery. There must be attendants moving about, for the Hun general would not inhabit this chateau unless he could have subordinates at his beck and call.

Once let any of these see strangers moving about with the air of spies—well, Jack imagined it would be nip and tuck with them as to whether they would be shot down like rats, get away by a close shave, or fall into the hands of the Huns, which last, he felt, would be the very worst fate that could befall them.

"It's upstairs for us, Jack." And with these words Tom led the way, headed for the upper floors of the chateau, even as a door opened and they heard a wild gust of uproarious chorus echo along the corridor leading to the dining hall in the right wing.


text: Air Service Boys Flying for Victory/Chapter 21


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Rh quoi a-t-il tenu?" demanda à son fils. Il répondit tout follement qu'il ne savait comment il fallait faire. Sur quoi il prit son fils par une main et la nore par une autre et les mena tous deux en une chambre et leur dit: "Or je vous veux donc montrer comme il faut faire." Et fit coucher sa nore sur un bout de lit, et lui fait bien élargir les jambes, et puis dit à son fils: "Or vois comment je fais," et dit à sa nore: "Ne bougez, non importe, il n'y a point de mal." Et en mettant son membre bien arboré dedans, dit: "Avise bien comme je fais et comme je dis, Dentro fuero, dentro fuero," et répliqua souvent ces deux mots en s'avançant dedans et reculant, non pourtant tout dehors. Et ainsi, après ces fréquentes agitations et paroles, dentro et fuero, quand ce vint à la consommation, il se mit à dire brusquement et vite: Dentro, dentro, dentro, dentro, jusqu'à ce qu'il eût fait. Au diable le mot de fuero. Et par ainsi, pensant faire du magister, il fut tout à plat adultère de sa nore, laquelle, ou qu'elle fit de la niaise ou, pour mieux dire, de la fine, s'en trouva très bien pour ce coup, voire pour d'autres que lui donna le fils et le père et tout, possible pour lui mieux apprendre sa leçon, laquelle il ne uli voulut pas apprendre à demi ni à moitié, mais à perfection. Aussi toute leçon ne vaut rieu autrement.

I have heard many enterprising and successful Lovelaces declare how that they have often seen ladies in these faints and swoonings, yet always readily coming to again afterward. Many women, they said, do cry out: "Alackaday! I am a-dying!"—but 'tis, I ween, a mighty agreeable sort of death. Others there be which do turn back their eyes in their head for excess of pleasure, as if about to expire outright, and let themselves


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Rh Variants


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Rh go absolutely motionless and insensible. Others I have been told do so stiffen and spasmodically contract their nerves, arteries and limbs, as that they do bring on cramp; as one lady I have heard speak of, which was so subject thereto she could never be cured.

Anent these same swoonings, I have heard tell of a fair lady, which was being embraced by her lover on top of a large chest or coffer. Very suddenly and unavoidably for herself, she did swoon right off in such wise that she did let herself slide behind the coffer with legs projected in the air, and getting so entangled betwixt the coffer and the tapestry of the wall, that while she was yet struggling to free herself and her cavalier helping her, there entered some company and so surprised her in this forked-radish attitude. These had time enough to see all she had,—which was all very pretty and dainty however,—and all the poor woman could do was to cover herself up as best she might, saying so and so had pushed her, as they were playing, behind the coffer, and declaring how that she would never like the fellow again for it.

Cette dame courut bien plus grande fortune qu'une que j'ai ouï dire, laquelle, alors que son ami la tenait embrassée et investie sur le bord de son lit, quand ce vint sur la douce fin qu'il eut achevé et que par trop il s'étendait, il avait par cas des escarpins neufs qui avaient la semelle glissante, et s'appuyant sur des carreaux plombés dont la chambre était pavée, qui sont fort sujets à faire glisser, il vint à se couler et glisser si bien sans se pouvoir arrêter que, du pourpoint qu'il avait, tout recouvert de clinquant, il en écorcha de telle façon le ventre, la motte le cas et les cuisses de sa maitresse que vous eussiez dit que les griffes d'un chat y avaient passé; ce qui cuisait


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32 for military training. Democracy implies rule by consent of the average citizen, who does not view things from the hill-tops, for he must be at his work in the fertile plains. There is no good in railing at the characteristics of popular government, for they are its qualities and no mere defects. President Wilson admits them when he says we must make the world a safe place henceforth for democracies. They were no less admitted in the British House of Commons when responsible Ministers took pride in the fact that, save in respect of the defensive force of the Navy, we were not prepared for the War.

The democrat thinks in principles, be they—according to his idiosyncrasy—ideals, prejudices, or economic laws. The organiser, on the other hand, plans construction, and, like an architect, must consider the ground for his foundations and the materials with which he will build. It must be concrete and detailed consideration, for bricks may be most suitable for his walls, but stone for his lintels, and timber and slate for his roof. If it be a State which he is erecting—not, be it noted, a nation which is growing—he must carefully consider the territory which it is desirable to occupy and the social structures—not economic laws—which are to his hand as the


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Rh si fort la dame qu'elle en fit un grand cri et ne's'en put garder; mais le meilleur fut que la dame, parce que c'était en été et faisait grand chaud, s'était mise en appareil un peu plus lubrique que les autres fois, car elle n'avait que sa chemise bien blanche et un manteau de satin blanc dessus, et les caleçons à part e si bien que le gentilhomme.

The lady told the story to one of her female friends, and the gentleman to one of his comrades. So the thing came to be known, from being again repeated over to others; for indeed 'twas a right good tale and very meet to provoke mirth.

And no doubt but the ladies, whenas they be alone, among their most privy bosom-friends, do repeat merry tales, everywhit as much as we men-folk do, and tell each other their amorous adventures and all their most secret tricks and turns, and afterward laugh long and loud over the same, making fine fun of their gallants, whenever these be guilty of some silly mistake or commit some ridiculous and foolish action.

Yea! and they do even better than this. For they do filch their lovers the one from the other, and this sometimes not so much for passion's sake, but rather for to draw from them all their secrets, the pretty games and naughty follies they have practised with them. These they do then turn to their own advantage, whether still further to stir their ardour, or by way of revenge, or to get the better one of the other in their privy debates and wranglings when they be met together.

In the days of this same King Henri III. was made that satire without words consisting of the book of pictures I have spoke of above, of sundry ladies in divers postures and connections with their gallants. 'Twas exceeding


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text: Index:TheHorselessAge Vol15 No2.pdf

title: Index:TheHorselessAge Vol15 No2.pdf


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34 Variants


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The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 3/To Thyrza

Variants Notes


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Ignore format rendering here; it works in the Main. Thanks, Londonjackbooks (talk) 20:03, 21 November 2012 (UTC)


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Rh THE CHAIN I GAVE.

FROM THE TURKISH.


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Rh base and scurrilous,—for the which see the above passage wherein I have described the same.

Well! enough said on this matter. I could wish from my heart that not a few evil tongues in this our land of France could be chastened and refrain them from their scandal-making, and comport them more after the Spanish fashion. For no man there durst, on peril of his life, to make so much as the smallest reflection on the honour of ladies of rank and reputation. Nay! so scrupulously are they respected that on meeting them in any place whatsoever, an if the faintest cry is raised of lugar a las damas, every man doth lout low and pay them all honour and reverence. Before them is all insolence straitly forbid on pain of death.

Whenas the Empress, wife of the Emperor Charles, made his entry into Toledo, I have heard tell how that the Marquis de Villena, one of the great Lords of Spain, for having threatened an alguasil, which had forcibly hindered him from stepping forward, came nigh being sore punished, because the threat was uttered in presence of the Empress; whereas, had it been merely in the Emperor's, no such great ado would have been made.

The Duc de Feria being in Flanders, and the Queens Eleanor and Marie taking the air abroad, and their Court ladies following after them, it fell out that as he was walking beside them, he did come to words with an other Spanish knight. For this the pair of them came very nigh to losing their lives,—more for having made such a scandal before the Queen and Empress than for any other cause.

The same befell Don Carlos d'Avalos at Madrid, as Queen Isabelle of France was walking through the town;


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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Lomonosov, Mikhail Vasilievich

LOMONOSOV, lō-mō-nō'sŏf, Mikhail Vasilievich, Russian poet and man of science: b. Denisovka (now Lomonosov), near Archangel, 1711; d. 1765. His father was a fisherman in poor circumstances and the youth's schooling was confined to a few books which he almost committed to memory. At the age of 17 he decided to go to Moscow to obtain an education and in that city with the aid of friends secured admission to a school. There he lived in want but made rapid progress in his studies and in 1734 was sent to Saint Petersburg. In the capital he made great progress in physical science and was chosen one of the youths to be sent abroad to finish their education. At Marburg he studied metallurgy and subsequently spent two years at Freiberg. In 1739 he published his ‘Ode on the Taking of Khotin from the Turks,’ which attracted great attention. He also wrote dramas, epigrams, etc., in the style of the period. In Germany Lomonosov married a German girl and soon found himself unable to maintain his domestic establishment on the irregular remittances from his government. He left Germany secretly and in his native country soon rose to distinction. He was at first professor of chemistry in the University of Saint Petersburg of which he was later made rector, and was appointed Secretary of State in 1764. His Russian grammar was long the standard work in its field and did much to stamp the form of the new Russian after its break with Church Slavonic. Perhaps Lomonosov's greatest monument is the great University of Moscow, of which he was the founder and the early policy of which he planned. He was one of the most learned men in Europe. His Russian grammar is said “to have drawn out the plan, and his poetry to have built up the fabric of his native language.” He is called “the father of Russian literature.” Consult the edition of his works issued by the Imperial Academy of Sciences (4 vols., Saint Petersburg 1892-98); Pekarsky, ‘History of the Academy of Sciences’ (Vol. II, ib. 1873); the lives by P. Borzakovsky (Odessa 1911) and B. N. Menshutkin (Saint Petersburg 1911).