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 Some one slumbered audibly in Major Ayers’ room. It was Major Ayers himself, and Fairchild closed the door and went on, struck anew with that strange atmosphere which the yacht seemed to have gained overnight. The saloon was empty also, and a broken meal offended his temporarily refined sensibilities with partially emptied cups and cold soiled plates. But still no sound, no human sound, save Major Ayers and the Semitic man in slumber’s strophe and antistrophe. He stood in the door of the saloon and groaned again. Then he took his splitting head on deck.

Here he blinked in the light, shutting his eyes against it while hot brass hammers beat against his eyeballs. Three men dangled their legs over the edge of the quay and regarded him, and he opened his eyes again and saw the three men.

“Good morning,” he said. “What town’s this? Mandeville?”

The three men looked at him. After a time one said:

“Mandeville? Mandeville what?”

“What town is it, then?” he asked, but as he spoke awareness came to him and looking about he saw a steel bridge and a trolley on the bridge, and further still, a faint mauve smudge on the sky, and in the other direction the flag that floated above the yacht club, languorous in a faint breeze. The three men sat and swung their legs and watched him. Presently one of them said:

“Your party went off and left you.”

“Looks like it,” Fairchild agreed. “Do you know if they said anything about sending a car back for us?”

“No, she ain’t going to send back to-day,” the man answered. Fairchild cleared his aching eyes: it was the captain. “Trolley track over yonder a ways,” he called after Fairchild as he turned and descended the companionway.

title: Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/309


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  tears of joy, I marked where a warm little hand had rested fondly on the right shoulder, and knew that Fifty-Six was the accepted lover of his sweetheart."

Ah-Yen paused and sat for some time silent; his pipe had sputtered out and lay cold in the hollow of his hand; his eye was fixed upon the wall where the light and shadows shifted in the dull flickering of the candle. At last he spoke again:

"I will not dwell upon the happy days that ensued—days of gaudy summer neckties and white waistcoats, of spotless shirts and lofty collars worn but a single day by the fastidious lover. Our happiness seemed complete and I asked no more from fate. Alas! it was not destined to continue! When the bright days of summer were fading into autumn, I was grieved to notice an occasional quarrel—only four shirts instead of seven, or the reappearance of the abandoned cuffs and shirt-fronts. Reconciliations followed, with tears of penitence upon the shoulder of the white waistcoat, and the seven shirts came back. But the quarrels grew more frequent and there came at times stormy scenes of passionate emotion that left a track of broken buttons down the

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


text:
Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/489

(:The real difficulty arises from the fact that present-day Christians do not know where to draw the dividing line between their faith and the state. They enjoy the protection of the state and share in its advantages. Particularly the clergy and the learned doctors seem to have become allies of the state. In order to make their compromise more plausible they have divided all mankind into three estates:) namely:

Behold the first Baal, fat and proliferated: the temporal lords. Behold the second Baal, also fat and proliferated: the spiritual lords! Both Baals suck the labor of the earth and the blood and the sweat of the third class which, drenched with sweat, fills the fleshpots of the two Baals. Cf. Chap.XIV, p.80*.

140*

title: Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/489


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  waistcoat. The shirts went slowly down to three, then fell to two, and the collars of my unhappy friend subsided to an inch and three-quarters. In vain I lavished my utmost care upon Fifty-Six. It seemed to my tortured mind that the gloss upon his shirts and collars would have melted a heart of stone. Alas! my every effort at reconciliation seemed to fail. An awful month passed; the false fronts and detached cuffs were all back again; the unhappy lover seemed to glory in their perfidy. At last, one gloomy evening, I found on opening his bundle that he had bought a stock of celluloids, and my heart told me that she had abandoned him for ever. Of what my poor friend suffered at this time, I can give you no idea; suffice it to say that he passed from celluloid to a blue flannel shirt and from blue to grey. The sight of a red cotton handkerchief in his wash at length warned me that his disappointed love had unhinged his mind, and I feared the worst. Then came an agonizing interval of three weeks during which he sent me nothing, and after that came the last parcel that I ever received from him an enormous bundle that seemed to contain all his effects. In this, to my horror, I dis-


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  covered one shirt the breast of which was stained a deep crimson with his blood, and pierced by a ragged hole that showed where a bullet had singed through into his heart.

"A fortnight before, I remembered having heard the street boys crying the news of an appalling suicide, and I know now that it must have been he. After the first shock of my grief had passed, I sought to keep him in my memory by drawing the portrait which hangs beside you. I have some skill in the art, and I feel assured that I have caught the expression of his face. The picture is, of course, an ideal one, for, as you know, I never saw Fifty-Six."

The bell on the door of the outer shop tinkled at the entrance of a customer. Ah-Yen rose with that air of quiet resignation that habitually marked his demeanour, and remained for some time in the shop. When he returned he seemed in no mood to continue speaking of his lost friend. I left him soon after and walked sorrowfully home to my lodgings. On my way I mused much upon my little Eastern friend and the sympathetic grasp of his imagination. But a burden lay heavy on my heart—something I would fain have told him but which I could not bear to


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 Major Ayers’ appointment was for three o’clock. His watch corroborated and commended him as he stepped from the elevator into a long cool corridor glassed on either hand by opaque plate from beyond which came a thin tapping of type-writers. Soon he found the right door and entered it, and across a low barrier he gave his card to a thin scented girl, glaring at her affably, and stood in the ensuing interval gazing out the window across diversified rectangles of masonry, toward the river.

The girl returned. “Mr. Reichman will see you now,” she said across her chewing gum, swinging the gate open for him.

Mr. Reichman shook his hand and offered him a chair and a cigar. He asked Major Ayers for his impressions of New Orleans and immediately interrupted the caller’s confused staccato response to ask Major Ayers, for whom the war had served as the single possible condition under which he could have returned to England at all, and to whom for certain private reasons London had been interdict since the Armistice, how affairs compared between the two cities. Then he swung back in his patent chair and said:

“Now, Major, just what is your proposition?”

“Ah, yes,” said Major Ayers, flicking the ash from his cigar. “Its a salts. Now, all Americans are constipated—”

Beneath him, on the ground floor, where a rectangle of light fell outward across the alley, a typewriter was being hammered by a heavy and merciless hand. Fairchild sat with a cigar on his balcony just above the unseen but audible typist, enjoying the cool darkness and the shadowed treefilled

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  mention. I could not find it in my heart to shatter the airy castle of his fancy. For my life has been secluded and lonely and I have known no love like that of my ideal friend. Yet I have a haunting recollection of a certain huge bundle of washing that I sent to him about a year ago. I had been absent from town for three weeks and my laundry was much larger than usual in consequence. And if I mistake not there was in the bundle a tattered shirt that had been grievously stained by the breaking of a bottle of red ink in my portmanteau, and burnt in one place where an ash fell from my cigar as I made up the bundle. Of all this I cannot feel absolutely certain, yet I know at least that until a year ago, when I transferred my custom to a more modern establishment, my laundry number with Ah-Yen was Fifty-Six.


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34

The broad sterna and the structure of the antennæ, as well as the male sexual characters, show that this small species is not closely allied to any other here described.

The following six species are distinguished in each instance by some remarkable peculiarity of the male sexual characters, which will be readily recognized.


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 spaciousness of the cathedral close beneath his balcony. An occasional trolley clanged and crashed up Royal street, but this was but seldom, and when it had died away there was no sound save the monotonous merging clatter of the typewriter. Then he saw and recognized Mr. Talliaferro turning the corner and with an exclamation of alarm he sprang to his feet, kicking his chair over backward. Ducking quickly into the room redolent of pennyroyal he snapped off the reading lamp and leaped upon a couch, feigning sleep.

Mr. Talliaferro walked dapperly, swinging his stick, his goal in sight. Yes, Fairchild was right, he knew women, the feminine soul—? No, not soul: they have no souls. Nature, the feminine nature: that substance, that very substance of their being, impalpable as moonlight, challenging and retreating at the same time; inconsistent, nay, incomprehensible, yet serving their ends with such a devastating practicality. As though the earth, the world, man and his very desires and impulses themselves, had been invented for the sole purpose of hushing their little hungry souls by filling their time through serving their biological ends

Yes, boldness. And propinquity. And opportunity, that happy conjunction of technique and circumstance, being with the right one in the right place at the right time. Yes, yes, Opportunity, Opportunity—more important than all, perhaps. Mr. Talliaferro put up Opportunity: he called for a ballot. The ayes had it.

He stopped utterly still in the flash of his inspiration. At last he had it, had the trick, the magic Word. It was so simple that he stood in amaze at the fact that it had not occurred to him before. But then he realized that its very simplicity was the explanation. And my nature is complex, he told himself, gazing at stars in the hot dark sky, in a path of sky above the open coffin of the street. It was so devastat-

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 ingly simple that he knew a faint qualm. Was it—was it exactly sporting? Wasn’t it like shooting quail on the ground? But no, no: now that he had the key, now that he had found the Word, he dared admit to himself that he had suffered. Not so much in his vanity, not physically—after all, man can do without the pleasures of love: it will not kill him; but because each failure seemed to put years behind him with far more finality than the mere recurrence of natal days. Yes, Mr. Talliaferro owed himself reparation, let them suffer who must. And was not that woman’s part from time immemorial?

Opportunity, create your opportunity, prepare the ground by overlooking none of those small important trivialities which mean so much to them, then take advantage of it. And I can do that, he told himself. Indifference, perhaps, as though women were no rare thing with me; that there is perhaps another woman I had rather have seen, but circumstances over which neither of us had any control intervened. They like a man who has other women, for some reason. Can it be that love to them is half adultery and half jealousy? Yes, I can do that sort of thing, I really can “She would have one suit of black underthings,” Mr. Talliaferro said aloud with a sort of exultation.

He struck the pavement with his stick, lightly. “By God, that’s it,” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, striding on “Create the opportunity, lead up to it delicately but firmly. Drop a remark about coming to-night only because I had promised Yes, they like an honorable man: it increases their latitude. She'll say, “Please take me to dance,” and I'll say ‘No, really, I don’t care to dance to-night,’ and she'll say, ‘Won’t you take me?’ leaning against me, eh?—let’s see—yes, she’ll take my hand. But I shan’t respond at once. She'll tease and then I’ll put my arm around her and raise her face in the dark cab and kiss her, coldly, and I'll say, ‘Do you really

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Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/491

141* (:But the religion of Jesus does not approve of this system. When the rule of Jesus was foretold by the angel, the House of Jacob meant the Church of the righteous, the sheep of Christ who hear his voices:)

Therefore he cannot rule over stinking goats, that is, straying Christians, because they do not listen to his voice (:but rather obey the authority of the combined Church and state.:)

The world is unable to follow his (Christ's) rule for its excellent perfection; for nowhere can man be governed both in matters which pertain to God and in matters which pertain to men, with such benefit for his soul as well as body, as in the sovereignty of King Jesus. We can confess these things by the (assurance of) faith. The royal government has no similarity with the government of King Jesus. A good Christian lives by faith and follows Christ in works; but, as mentioned before, according to the doctors such a Christian should be king with a pagan exercise of power over his sheep; however, , p. 136*.

John 10:27.

secular authority.

title: Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/491


text: Cautionary Tales for Children/Rebecca

title: Cautionary Tales for Children/Rebecca


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 harsh, implacable fruit and flowers in dimensionless bowls upon tables without depth. Her teeth were large and white in the pale revelation of her gums, and her gray eyes were coldly effective. Her body was long, loosely articulated and frail, and while spending in Greenwich Village the two years she had considered necessary for the assimilation of American tendencies in painting, she had taken a lover although she was still a virgin.

She took the lover principally because he owed her money which he had borrowed of her in order to pay a debt to another woman. The lover ultimately eloped to Paris with a wealthy Pittsburgh lady, pawning her—Dorothy’s—fur coat on the way to the dock and mailing the ticket back to her from shipboard. The lover himself was a musician. He was quite advanced, what is known as a radical; and in the intervals of experimenting with the conventional tonal scale he served as part of an orchestra in an uptown dancing place. It was here that he met the Pittsburgh lady.

But this episode was complete, almost out of her memory even. She had had a year abroad and had returned to New Orleans where she settled down to a moderate allowance which permitted her a studio in the vieux carré and her name several times on the police docket for reckless driving and a humorless and reasonably pleasant cultivation of her individuality, with no more than a mild occasional nagging at the hands of her family, like a sound of rain heard beyond a closed window.

She had always had trouble with her men. Principally through habit since that almost forgotten episode she had always tried for artists, but sooner or later they inevitably ran out on her. With the exception of Mark Frost, that is. And in his case, she realized, it was sheer inertia more than anything else. And she admitted with remote perspicuity,

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 who cared one way or the other whether they kept Mark Frost? No one ever cared long for an artist who did nothing save create art, and very little of that.

But other men, men she recognized as having potentialities, all passed through a violent but temporary period of interest which ceased as abruptly as it began, without leaving even the lingering threads of mutually remembered incidence, like those brief thunderstorms of August that threaten and dissolve for no apparent reason, without producing any rain.

At times she speculated with almost masculine detachment on the reason for this. She always tried to keep their relations on the plane which the men themselves seemed to prefer—certainly no woman would, and few women could, demand less of their men than she did. She never made arbitrary demands on their time, never caused them to wait for her nor to see her home at inconvenient hours, never made them fetch and carry for her; she fed them and she flattered herself that she was a good listener. And yet She thought of the women she knew: how all of them had at least one obviously entranced male; she thought of the women she had observed: how they seemed to acquire a man at will, and if he failed to stay acquired, how readily they replaced him.

She thought of the women on board, briefly reviewing them. Eva Wiseman. She had had one husband, practically discarded him. Men liked her. Fairchild, for instance: a man of undisputed ability and accomplishment. Yet this might be due to his friendship with her brother. But no, Fairchild was not that sort: social obligations rested too lightly upon him. It was because he was attracted to her. Because of kindred tastes? But I create, too, she reminded herself.

Then she thought of the two young girls. Of the niece Patricia, with her frank curiosity in things, her childish delight in strenuous physical motion, of her hard unsentimentality and

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Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/493

142* it is impossible to reconcile their utterances with the fact that they have ignored King Jesus and his fulness who is the head of the holy Church. The Church's authority and sufficiency is derived from this head and is (channelled) to all the members of the body). The doctors have forgotten these things if they are of the opinion that they can obtain a good Christian king with pagan (un-Christian) rule, and through his authority to gain benefits for the holy Church. This (division) may suit the Roman Church which seeks the support of the royal power; its king may defend her and drive away her enemies, fight terribly with her foes Indeed, the Church of Rome rather likes a wicked king, for this man if sufficiently intoxicated by her poisons – will fight for her better than a humble Christian. For a good Christian does not dare to get involved in pagan administration, either to work in the capacity of a king and to do  Eph. 1:22–23.

temporal authority.

Chelc̄icky̍'s position represents an interesting echo of a similar interpretation attributed by Eusebius to Emperor Constantine. In chapter LXII of his he records the appeal of the dying Emperor, requesting the Christian bishops to confer upon him the rite of baptism. We quote from it: "The time is arrived in which I may receive the seal of salvation B eBe [sic] it so, then, without delay: for should it be His will who is Lord of Life and Death that I should be destined henceforth to associate with the people of God, and unite with them in prayer as a member of His Church, 2em

title: Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/493


text: Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/147


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 no interest whatever in the function of creating art (I'll bet she doesn’t even read) and Gordon aloof and insufferably arrogant, yet intrigued. And Fairchild also interested in his impersonal way. Even Pete, probably.

Pete, and Jenny. Jenny with her soft placidity, her sheer passive appeal to the senses, and Mr. Talliaferro, braving Mrs. Maurier’s displeasure to dangle about her, fawning almost. Even she felt Jenny’s appeal—an utterly mindless rifeness of young, pink flesh, a supine potential fecundity lovely to look upon: a doll awaiting a quickening and challenging it with neither joy nor sorrow. She had brought one man with her. No, not even brought: he had followed in her blonde troubling orbit as a tide follows the moon, without volition, against his inclination, perhaps. Two women who had no interest whatever in the arts, yet who without effort drew to themselves men, artistic men. Opposites, antitheses perhaps, she thought, I have been trying for the wrong kind of men, perhaps the artistic man is not my type.

“No, ma’am,” the nephew replied courteously, “it’s a pipe.”

“Oh,” she murmured, “a pipe.”

He bent over his wooden cylinder, paring at it with a knife, delicately, with care. It was much cooler to-day. The sun had risen from out a serrated miniature sea, into a cloudless sky. For a while the yacht had had a perceptible motion—it was this motion which had roused her—but now it had ceased, although sizable waves yet came in from the lake, creaming whitely along the hull, and spent themselves shoaling up the beach toward a dark cliff of trees. She’d had no idea last night that they were so close to land, either. But distances always confused her by night.

She wished she’d brought a coat: had she anticipated such a

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When the curtain rises, is sitting on the Chesterfield, reading a bound volume of “Punch” and nursing a Pekinese dog. comes in L.

I say, whose is this fellow? Yours?

Is she fond of dogs?

She bought him about a year ago, when you first went out to France.

Never noticed him again; left him to the servants.

What’s his name?

(fondling the dog) : Affectionate little beggar, too.

She found him in the corridor, begging to be taken notice of. I hadn’t seen him before.

Back numbers 1914. Trying to catch up with history. I spent all the morning


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 cool spell in August She stood huddling her scarf about her shoulders, watching his brown intent forearms and his coarse, cropped head exactly like his sister’s, mildly desiring breakfast. I wonder if he’s hungry? she thought. She remarked:

“Aren’t you rather chilly this morning without a coat?” He carved at his object with a rapt maternal absorption, and after a while she said, louder:

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to buy one?”

“I hope so,” he murmured then he raised his head and the sun shone full into his opaque yellow-flecked eyes. “What’d you say?”

“I should think you’d wait until we got ashore and buy one instead of trying to make one.”

“You can’t buy one like this. They don’t make ’em.” The cylinder came in two sections, carved and fitted cunningly. He raised one piece, squinting at it, and carved an infinitesimal sliver from it. Then he returned it to its husband. Then he broke them apart again and carved an infinitesimal sliver from the other piece, fitted them together again. Miss Jameson watched him.

“Do you carry the design in your head?” she asked.

He raised his head again. “Huh?” he said in a dazed tone.

“The design you’re carving. Are you just carving from memory, or what?”

“Design?” he repeated. “What design?”

It was much cooler to-day.

There was in Pete’s face a kind of active alarm not quite yet dispersed, and clutching his sheet of newspaper he rose with belated politeness, but she said, “No, no: I'll get it. Keep your seat.” So he stood acutely, clutching his paper, while

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 in the library over the files of The Times. Jenny, it can’t be true that they did all that to Belgium? Those funny, quiet, stingy people! Has the world gone mad?

If they could still joke about it And, Jenny, the casualty lists the names I knew. And it’s still going on, out there every day  now, while we’re talking. It’s unbelievable. But, Jenny, I can’t sit here doing nothing, day after day, like this.

It’s so awful, Jenny to be right out of the world as I am, out of touch with it all. Not to know to take it all second-hand, what one’s told, and know nothing. Everyone’s in it doing something  every man I’ve asked after is either dead or fighting. I’m alone in a world of my own. I don’t know I don’t understand anything that’s happening. (Half whispering) Jenny I’m frightened.

We’re all here to look after you.

(ignoring her) : Only when Margaret’s here can I forget. I remember, when I broke my shoulder playing Rugger, they gave me something some drug  to keep me quiet.


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143* administrative work or to defend (by virtue of his office) the Church of Christ against enemies; a good Christian knows (all too well) that King Jesus wants a different Church from the one which spills blood in his name A true Christian can do no such thing.

First of all, he cannot do it because he has no reason for such behavior. Secondly, he cannot do it since he has no right to do anything for which he has no power. Thirdly, he cannot do it because his conscience will not allow him to commit anything which might bring about much evil or even do away with much that is good. Finally, he cannot do it for conscience's sake and for fear of offending God.

(:A true Christian cannot work or associate with any state office; to do so would mean to condone the violent

" (Italics mine). After he had thus spoken, the prelates performed the sacred ceremonies in the usual manner Thus was Constantine the first of all sovereigns who was regenerated Thus gifted with the Divine seal of baptism, he rejoiced in spirit At the conclusion of the ceremony     ,    ,        } ,         .' (Italics mine). Philip Schaff and Henry Wace,  2nd Series, vol. I: Eusebius. ("The Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine by Eusebius Pamphilus"). Chapter LXII, p.556. (New York: Christian Literature Company, 1890).

sanction?

title: Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/495


text:
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Rh The sternal structure, form of the antennæ and male sexual characters will distinguish this species quite readily; it is scarcely a normal Atheta but seems hardly worthy of subgeneric separation.

The general form of this species is not unlike carlottæ, but with very different male sexual characters and conformation of the sterna.


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 I remember it all slipping away, the pain and everything. I wasn’t unconscious, but just at peace. That’s how it is when I’m with her.

She’s late, surely.

You haven’t forgotten, Chris that Dr. Gilbert Anderson is coming to-day?

I mustn’t miss Margaret.

[ comes in R.

He’s in the library.

(He rises.) You won't let her go away, Jenny?

Shan’t be long.

[He goes to the door and puts the dog down.

Run along, Confucius.

By the way, Jenny, will you tell Mrs. Grey the doctor would like to see her too?

[They go out together.

''is left alone. She wanders around wretchedly''


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144* system of authority which is repugnant to Christ. In addition, sovereignty leads to war:)

Humanly speaking wars begin when one lord who rules over people wants to extend his authority over the people of another lord. (Of course) an even greater conflict arises when someone of the kings household tries to usurp the kingship for himself by conspiracy. Absalom was killed for such an action because, having won for himself the favor of the Jewish people he desired to remove his father from his throne and rule in his stead. How much more, then, is a Christian bound by fealty to his Lord and King Christ Jesus! (:Not to be faithful to Christ, that is, to compromise with the state is tantamount to Absalom's infidelity to David. Absalom was punished by death, and Christians will also be punished if they get entangled with secular power:) This power, with all its offices and officialdom, is contrary to the rule of Christ. Therefore, no honest Christian can have any share in its administration A faithful servant of Christ who would want to admonish the followers of Christ in faith and to urge them not to accept any offices from the king would himself have to avoid being a ruler over the 2-Sam.15:6ff.

i.e. a priest.

title: Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/497


text:
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145* people of his Lord; for this would involve pagan rule, compulsion through power in accordance with the ways of the heathens, that is, the people would have laws contrary to the law of Christ the King Jesus.

Cf. Chap.XIV, p.80*.

, p. 136*.

John 10:27.

secular authority.

Eph. 1:22–23.

temporal authority.

Chelc̄icky̍'s position represents an interesting echo of a similar interpretation attributed by Eusebius to Emperor Constantine. In chapter LXII of his he records the appeal of the dying Emperor, requesting the Christian bishops to confer upon him the rite of baptism. We quote from it: "The time is arrived in which I may receive the seal of salvation B eBe [sic] it so, then, without delay: for should it be His will who is Lord of Life and Death that I should be destined henceforth to associate with the people of God, and unite with them in prayer as a member of His Church,               " (Italics mine). After he had thus spoken, the prelates performed the sacred ceremonies in the usual manner Thus was Constantine the first of all sovereigns who was regenerated Thus gifted with the Divine seal of baptism, he rejoiced in spirit At the conclusion of the ceremony     ,    ,         ,         .' (Italics mine). Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, 2nd Series, vol. I: Eusebius. ("The Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine by Eusebius Pamphilus"). Chapter LXII, p.556. (New York: Christian Literature Company, 1890).

sanction?

2-Sam.15:6ff.

i.e. a priest.

title: Page:The Net of Faith.pdf/499


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twisting her hands, fidgeting with the music on the piano. comes in R., announces: “Mr. Baldry,” shows in, and retires.

I thought I’d come and see how you were getting on. I hope I’m not in the way?

Come and sit down.

Dozens, every day. There’s one here now.

They come and stand round him, and look at him like a plumber looking at a leak. They can’t do anything. They’ve tried hypnotism.

But


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 : There’s no result?

When he’s hypnotised he knows everything remembers Kitty and me and the war  but he comes out just the same  blank as ever.

(viciously) : Yes, that expresses what we all feel!

Wise? Frank, she’s all he’s got.

Of course, I know she’s not attractive, but

She’s the only thing that keeps him sane. She’s marvellous.

They go for walks together, or sit in the garden. We’ve had lovely weather this week spring at last. Frank, it’s wonderful what she does for him. He doesn’t see her as we do, as I feared he would—shabby and bedraggled. He sees her as she was transformed. It’s incredible but those things don’t matter to lovers. She gives him peace. You couldn’t deny him that. She mothers his soul. And there’s another thing


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 that scares me. Supposing they do cure him bring him back to knowledge  don’t you see what it will mean? Sending him back to France to danger, perhaps to death  all that horror and anxiety and misery beginning again?

While he’s with her like this he’s safe. She’s protecting him, his body as well as his soul. While he’s like this they can’t send him back to that hell out there. Oh, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what’s best. I’m out of my depth. I don’t understand. I used to dread his being killed, or wounded. But this I could never have imagined anything like this. Why has it happened?

There are more things in heaven and earth

I don’t know how.

Has this anything to do with Him?


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 she fetched a chair and drew it up beside his. “It’s quite chilly this morning isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” he agreed. “When I woke up this morning and felt all that cold wind and the boat going up and down, I didn’t know what we were into. I didn’t feel so good this morning, anyway, and with the boat going up and down like it was it’s still now, though. Looks like they went in closer to the bank and parked it this time.”

“Yes, it seems to me we're closer than we were last night.” When she was settled he sat also, and presently he forgot and put his feet back on the rail. Then he remembered and removed them.

“Why, how did you manage to get a paper this morning? Did we put in shore somewhere last night?” she asked, raising her feet to the rail.

For some reason he felt uncomfortable about his paper. “It’s just an old piece,” he explained lamely. “I found it downstairs somewhere. It kind of kept my mind off of how bad I felt.” He made a gesture repudiating it.

“Don’t throw it away,” she said quickly, “go on—don’t let me interrupt if you found something interesting in it. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. Perhaps you'll feel better after breakfast.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, without conviction. “I don’t feel much like breakfast, waking up like I did and feeling kind of bad, and the boat going up and down too.”

“You'll get over that, I’m sure.” She leaned nearer to see the paper. It was a single sheet of a Sunday magazine section: a depressing looking article in small print about Romanesque architecture, interspersed with blurred indistinguishable photographs. “Are you interested in architecture?” she asked intensely.

“I guess not,” he replied. “I was just looking it over until

title: Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/112


text:
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 they get up.” He slanted his hat anew: under cover of this movement he raised his feet to the rail, settling down on his spine. She said:

“So many people waste their time over things like architecture and such. It’s much better to be a part of life, don’t you think? Much better to be in it yourself and make your own mistakes and enjoy making them and suffering for them, than to make your life barren through dedicating it to an improbable and ungrateful posterity. Don’t you think so?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Pete said cautiously. He lit a cigarette. “Breakfast is late to-day.”

“Of course you hadn’t. That’s what I admire about a man like you. You know life so well that you aren’t afraid of what it might do to you. You don’t spend your time thinking about life, do you?”

“Not much,” he agreed. “A man don’t want to be a fish, though.”

“You'll never be a fish, Pete (every one calls you Pete, don’t they?—do you mind?) I think the serious things really are the things that make for happiness—people and things that are compatible, love So many people are content just to sit around and talk about them instead of getting out and attaining them. As if life were a joke of some kind May I have a cigarette? Thanks. You smoke this brand, too, I see. A m— Thanks. I like your hat: it just suits the shape of your face. You have an extremely interesting face—do you know it? And your eyes. I never saw eyes exactly the color of yours. But I suppose lots of women have told you that, haven’t they?”

“I guess so,” Pete answered. “They'll tell you anything.”

“Ts that what love has meant to you, Pete—deception?” she leaned to the match, staring at him with the humorless invitation of her eyes, “Is that your opinion of us?”

title: Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/113


text:
Page:Memoirs on the coleoptera (IA memoirsoncoleopt01case).pdf/44

36

Resembles reposita a good deal, but more slender and with differences as noted in the description. It is probable that all the species of this type are stercoraceous in habits.

Differs from ostenta in its stouter form and, from reposita, in its more parallel form, relatively larger prothorax and less evenly tapering abdomen.

In the two following species the male sexual characters are altogether peculiar:


text:
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 “Aw, they don’t mean anything by it,” Pete said in something like alarm. “What time do they have breakfast on this line?” He rose. “I guess I better run downstairs a minute before it’s ready. It oughtn’t to be long,” he added. Miss Jameson was gazing quietly out across the water. She wore a thin scarf about her shoulders: a webbed brilliant thing that lent her a bloodless fragility, as did the faint bridge of freckles (relict of a single afternoon of sunlight) across her nose. She now sat suddenly quiet, poising the cigarette in her long, delicate fingers; and Pete stood beside her, acutely uncomfortable—why, he knew not. “I guess I’ll go downstairs before breakfast,” he repeated. “Say”—he extended his newspaper—“why don’t you look it over while I’m gone?”

Then she looked at him again, and took the paper. “Ah, Pete, you don’t know much about us—for all your experience.”

“Sure,” he replied. “I'll see you again, see?” and he went away. I’m glad I had a clean collar yesterday, he thought, turning into the companionway. This trip sure ought to be over in a couple of years Just as he began the descent he looked back at her. The newspaper lay across her lap but she wasn’t looking at it. And she had thrown the cigarette away, too. My God, Pete said to himself. Then he was struck by a thought. Pete, my boy, he told himself, it’s going to be a hard trip. He descended into the narrow passage. It swept forward on either hand, broken smugly by spaced mute doors with brass knobs. He slowed momentarily, counting doors to find his own, and while he paused the door at his hand opened suddenly and the niece appeared clutching a raincoat about her.

“Hello,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Pete replied, raising his hat slightly. “Jenny up, too?”

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 “Say, I dreamed you lost that thing,” the niece told him. “Yes, shell be out soon, I guess.”

“That’s good. I was afraid she was going to lay there and starve to death.”

“No, she'll be out pretty soon.” They stood facing each other in the narrow passage, blocking it completely, and the niece said: “Get on, Pete. I feel too tired to climb over you this morning.”

He stood aside for her, and watching her retreat he called after her: “Losing your pants.”

She stopped and dragged at her hips as a shapeless fabric descended from beneath the raincoat and wadded slow and lethargic about her feet. She stood on one leg and kicked at the mass, then stooping she picked from amid its folds a man’s frayed and shapeless necktie. “Damn that string,” she said, kicking out of the garment and picking it up.

Pete turned in the narrow corridor, counting discrete identical doors. He smelled coffee and he added to himself: A hard trip, and, with unction: I’ll tell the world it is.

“It’s the steering gear,” Mrs. Maurier explained at the breakfast table. “Some—”

“I know,” Mrs. Wiseman exclaimed immediately above the grapefruit, “German spies!”

Mrs. Maurier stared at her with patient astonishment. She said, How cute. “It worked perfectly yesterday. The captain said it worked perfectly yesterday. But this morning, when the storm came up anyway, were aground, and they are sending some one to get a tug to pull us off. They are trying to find the trouble this morning, but I don’t know ”

Mrs. Wiseman leaned toward her and patted her fumbling

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text: Mosquitoes (Faulkner)/The First Day

title: Mosquitoes (Faulkner)/The First Day


text:
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 ringed hand. “There, there, don’t you feel badly about it: it wasn’t your fault. They’ll get us off soon, and we can have just as much fun here as we would sailing around. More, perhaps: motion seems to have had a bad effect on the party. I wonder” Fairchild and his people had not yet arrived: before each vacant place its grapefruit, innocent and profound. Surely just the prospect of more grapefruit couldn’t have driven them Mrs. Maurier followed her gaze.

“Perhaps it’s just as well,” she murmured.

“Anyway, I’ve always wanted to be shipwrecked,” Mrs. Wiseman went on. “What do they call it? scuttled the ship, isn’t it? But surely Dawson and Julius couldn’t have thought of this, though.” Mrs. Maurier, brooding above her plate, raised her eyes, cringing. “No, no,” the other answered herself hastily, “of course not: that’s silly. It just happened, as things do. But let this be a lesson to you children, never to lay yourselves open to suspicion,” she added looking from the niece to the nephew. The steward appeared with coffee and Mrs. Maurier directed him to leave the gentlemen’s grapefruit until it suited their pleasure to come for it.

“They couldn’t have done it if they’d wanted to,” the niece replied. “They don’t know anything about machinery. Josh could have done it. He knows all about automobile motors. I bet you could fix it for ’em if you wanted to, couldn’t you, Gus?”

He didn’t seem to have heard her at all. He finished his breakfast, eating with a steady and complete preoccupation, then thrusting his chair back he asked generally for a cigarette. His sister produced a package from somewhere. It bore yet faint traces of pinkish scented powder, and Miss Jameson said sharply:

“I wondered who took my cigarettes. It was you, was it?”

“I thought you’d forgot ’em, so I brought ’em up with me.”

title: Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/116


text:
Ilse, oder, die Bewohnerin des Ilsensteins

 * "The Dweller in the Ilsenstein" translated by Benjamin Thorpe (1853)


text:
Die Quäste

 * "The Wreath" translated by Benjamin Thorpe (1853)

title: Die Quäste


text:
Die Roßtrappe

 * "The Rosstrappe; or, Horse’s Foot-Mark" translated by Benjamin Thorpe (1853)

title: Die Roßtrappe


text:
Die Teufels-Mühle

 * "The Devil’s Mill" translated by Benjamin Thorpe (1853)

title: Die Teufels-Mühle


text:
Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/117

 She and her brother took one each, and she slid the package across the table. Miss Jameson picked it up, stared into it a moment, then put it in her handbag. The nephew had a patent lighter. They all watched with interest, and after a while Mr. Talliaferro with facetious intent offered him a match. But it took fire finally, and he lit his cigarette and snapped the cap down. “Gimme a light too, Gus,” his sister said quickly, and from the pocket of his shirt he took two matches, laid them beside her plate. He rose.

He whistled four bars of “Sleepytime Gal” monotonously, ending on a prolonged excruciating note, and from the bed clothing at the foot of his bunk he got the steel rod and stood squinting his eyes against the smoke of his cigarette, examining it. One end of it was kind of blackened, and pinching the cloth of his trouserleg about it, he shuttled it swiftly back and forth. Then he examined it again. It was still kind of black. The smoke of his cigarette was making his eyes water, so he spat it and ground his heel on it.

After a time he found a toothbrush and crossing the passage to a lavatory he scrubbed the rod. A little of the black came off, onto the brush, and he dried the rod on his shirt and scrubbed the brush against the screen in a port, then against a redleaded water pipe, and then against the back of his hand. He sniffed at it a kind of machinery smell yet, but you won’t notice it with toothpaste on it. He returned and replaced the brush among Mr. Talliaferro’s things.

He whistled four bars of “Sleepytime Gal” monotonously. The engine room was deserted. But he was making no effort toward concealment, anyway. He found the wrenches again and went to the battery room and restored the rod without haste, whistling with monotonous preoccupation. He replaced the wrenches and stood for a while examining the slumbering

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text:
Page:Journal of the Optical Society of America, volume 30, number 12.pdf/35

Probably the most satisfactory way by which the data reported in this paper can be tested psychologically is to compare them with the data obtained by the Newhall subcommittee. These data, some of which are reported in the final paper of this series by Newhall (15), have been based upon observations made on samples of the Book of Color to see what changes, both in magnitude and direction, would be necessary to bring about a still better representation of the ideal psychological color system, in which the steps are truly representative of equally perceptible changes in any single color attribute.

Regarding value, we already know that a definite relationship between value and reflectance was intended by Munsell, and that the Munsell value scale was intended to represent equal sensation steps. In regard to hue, we know, from, that the dominant wave-lengths of certain hues tend to change in accord with the requirements of a psychological system when the illuminant point is taken for a reference point. In regard to chroma, we can compare the excitation purities for samples of the 70 Atlas colors measured in 1926, both with excitation purities obtained from the data of the psychophysical relation developed in an earlier portion of this paper, and with excitation purities obtained on a basis of the Glenn-Killian (16) data, modified by the Newhall (15) data. enables this comparison to be made.

As the comparison is made, we begin to realize that a psychophysical system such as developed in this paper and a psychological system may not be as far apart as might have been supposed. However, the 1926 data at the low Munsell values in most cases agree with the data indicated by the Newhall report better than with those indicated by the psychophysical system. At the other values the data of are not so conclusive, although, except for value 8/, the agreement of the 1926 data with the psychological


text:
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 engine with rapture. Then still without haste he quitted the room.

The captain, the steward and the deckhand sat at breakfast in the saloon. He paused in the door.

“Broke down, have we?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the captain answered shortly. They went on with their breakfast.

“What’s the trouble?” No reply, and after a time he suggested: “Engine play out?”

“Steering gear,” the captain answered shortly.

“You ought to be able to fix that Where is the steering gear?”

“Engine room,” the captain replied. The nephew turned away.

“Well, I haven’t touched anything in the engine room.”

The captain bent above his plate, chewing. Then his jaws ceased and he raised his head sharply, staring after the nephew retreating down the passage.

“The trouble with you, Talliaferro, is that you ain’t bold enough with women. That’s your trouble.”

“But I—” Fairchild wouldn’t let him finish.

“I don’t mean with words. They don’t care anything about words except as little things to pass the time with. You can’t be bold with them with words: you can’t even shock them with words. Though the reason may be that half the time they are not listening to you. They ain’t interested in what you’re going to say: they are interested in what you’re going to do.”

“Yes, but How do you mean, be bold? What must I do to be bold?”

“How do they do it everywhere? Ain’t every paper you

title: Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/118


text:
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 pick up full of accounts of men being caught in Kansas City or Omaha under compromising conditions with young girls who’ve been missing from Indianapolis and Peoria and even Chicago for days and days? Surely if a man can get as far as Kansas City with a Chicago girl, without her shooting him through chance or affection or sheer exuberance of spirits or something, he can pretty safely risk a New Orleans girl.”

“But why should Talliaferro want to take a New Orleans girl, or any other girl, to Kansas City?” the Semitic man asked. They ignored him.

“I know,” Mr. Talliaferro rejoined. “But these men have always just robbed a cigar store. I couldn’t do that, you know.”

“Well, maybe New Orleans girls won’t require that: maybe they haven’t got that sophisticated yet. They may not be aware that their favors are worth as high as a cigar store. But I don’t know: there are moving pictures, and some of ’em probably even read newspapers, too, so I’d advise you to get busy right away. The word may have already got around that if they just hold off another day or so, they can get a cigar store for practically nothing. And there ain’t very many cigar stores in New Orleans, you know.”

“But,” the Semitic man put in again, “Talliaferro doesn’t want a girl and a cigar store both, you know.”

“That’s right,” Fairchild agreed. “You ain’t looking for tobacco, are you, Talliaferro?”

“No, sir,” the nephew answered patiently, “it’s a pipe.”

“A pipe?” Fairchild drew nearer, interested. “What’s the idea? Will it smoke longer than an ordinary pipe? Holds more tobacco, eh?”

“Smokes cooler,” the nephew corrected, carving minutely

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text:
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 at his cylinder. “Won’t burn your tongue. Smoke the tobacco down to the last grain, and it won’t burn your tongue. You change gears on it, kind of, like a car.”

“Well, I’m damned. How does it work?” Fairchild dragged up a chair, and the nephew showed him how it worked. “Well, I’m damned,” he repeated, taking fire. “Say, you ought to make a pile of money out of it, if you make it work, you know.”

“It works,” the nephew answered, joining his cylinders again. “Made a little one out of pine. Smoked pretty good for a pine pipe. It’ll work all right.”

“What kind of wood are you using now?”

“Cherry.” He carved and fitted intently, bending his coarse dark head above his work. Fairchild watched him. “Well, I’m damned,” he said again in a sort of heavy astonishment. “Funny nobody thought of it before. Say, we might form a stock company, you know, with Julius and Major Ayers. He’s trying to get rich right away at something that don’t require work, and this pipe is a lot better idea than the one he’s got, for I can’t imagine even Americans spending very much money for something that don’t do anything except keep your bowels open. That’s too sensible for us, even though we will buy anything Your sister tells me you and she are going to Yale college next month.”

“I am,” he corrected, without raising his head. “She just thinks she’s going too. That’s all. She kept on worrying dad until he said she could go. She’ll be wanting to do something else by then.”

“What does she do?” Fairchild asked. “I mean, does she have a string of beaux and run around dancing and buying things like most girls like her do?”

“Naw,” the nephew answered. “She spends most of her time and mine too tagging around after me. Oh, she’s all

title: Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/120


text:
Page:The life of Charlotte Brontë (IA lifeofcharlotteb02gaskrich).pdf/138

 still, I am very, very sorry that circumstances will not permit us to meet just now. I would without hesitation come to, if Papa were stronger; but uncertain as are both his health and spirits, I could not possibly prevail on myself to leave him now. Let us hope that when we do see each other, our meeting will be all the more pleasurable for being delayed. Dear E, you certainly have a heavy burden laid on your shoulders, but such burdens, if well borne, benefit the character; only we must take the greatest, closest, most watchful care not to grow proud of our strength, in case we should be enabled to bear up under the trial. That pride, indeed, would be sign of radical weakness. The strength, if strength we have, is certainly never in our own selves; it is given us."

1em

"My dear Sir,—I am obliged to you for preserving my secret, being at least as anxious as ever (more anxious I cannot well be) to keep quiet. You asked me in one of your letters lately, whether I thought I should escape identification in Yorkshire. I am so little known, that I think I shall. Besides, the book is far less founded on the Real, than perhaps appears. It would be difficult to explain to you how little actual experience I have had of life, how few persons I have known, and how very few have known me.

"As an instance how the characters have been


text:
Page:The life of Charlotte Brontë (IA lifeofcharlotteb02gaskrich).pdf/139

 managed, take that of Mr. Helstone. If this character had an original, it was in the person of a clergyman who died some years since at the advanced age of eighty. I never saw him except once—at the consecration of a church when—I was a child of ten years old. I was then struck with his appearance, and stern, martial air. At a subsequent period, I heard him talked about in the neighbourhood where he had resided: some mention him with enthusiasm—others with detestation. I listened to various anecdotes, balanced evidence against evidence, and drew an inference. The original of Mr. Hall I have seen; he knows me slightly; but he would as soon think I had closely observed him or taken him for a character—he would as soon, indeed, suspect me of writing a book—a novel—as he would his dog, Prince. Margaret Hall called 'Jane Eyre' a 'wicked book,' on the authority of the 'Quarterly;' an expression which, coming from her, I will here confess, struck somewhat deep. It opened my eyes to the harm the 'Quarterly' had done. Margaret would not have called it 'wicked,' if she had not been told so.

"No matter,—whether known or unknown—misjudged, or the contrary,—I am resolved not to write otherwise. I shall bend as my powers tend. The two human beings who understood me, and whom I understood, are gone: I have some that love me yet, and whom I love, without expecting, or having a right to expect, that they shall perfectly understand me. I am satisfied; but I must have my own way in the matter of writing. The loss of what we possess nearest and dearest


text:
Page:The life of Charlotte Brontë (IA lifeofcharlotteb02gaskrich).pdf/140

 to us in this world, produces an effect upon the character: we search out what we have yet left that can support, and, when found, we cling to it with a hold of new-strung tenacity. The faculty of imagination lifted me when I was sinking, three months ago; its active exercise has kept my head above water since; its results cheer me now, for I feel they have enabled me to give pleasure to others. I am thankful to God, who gave me the faculty; and it is for me a part of my religion to defend this gift, and to profit by its possession.—Yours sincerely,

."

At the time when this letter was written, both Tabby and the young servant whom they had to assist her were ill in bed; and, with the exception of occasional aid, Miss Brontë had all the household work to perform, as well as to nurse the two invalids.

The serious illness of the younger servant was at its height, when a cry from Tabby called Miss Brontë into the kitchen, and she found the poor old woman of eighty laid on the floor, with her head under the kitchen-grate; she had fallen from her chair in attempting to rise. When I saw her, two years later, she described to me the tender care which Charlotte had taken of her at this time; and wound up her account of "how her own mother could not have had more thought for her nor Miss Brontë had," by saying, "Eh! she's a good one—she is!"


text:
Lindsey v. Normet

Appellants, month-to-month tenants of appellee Normet, refused to pay their monthly rent unless certain substandard conditions were remedied, and appellee threatened eviction. Appellants filed a class action seeking a declaratory judgment that the Oregon Forcible Entry and Wrongful Detainer (FED) Statute was unconstitutional on its face, and an injunction against its continued enforcement. Appellants attacked principally (1) the requirement of trial no later than six days after service of the complaint unless security for accruing rent is provided, (2) the limitation of triable issues to the tenant's default, defenses based on the landlord's breach of duty to maintain the premises being precluded, and (3) the requirement of posting bond on appeal, with two sureties, in twice the amount of rent expected to accrue pending appellate decision, this bond to be forfeited if the lower court decision is affirmed. The District Court granted the motion to dismiss the complaint, concluding that the statute dud not violate the Due Process or the Equal Protection Clause.

Held:

 * 1. Neither the early-trial provision nor the limitation on litigable issues is invalid on its face under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Pp. 64-69.

 * (a) The time for trial preparation is not unduly short where the issue is simply whether the tenant has paid or has held over, and the requirement for rent security for a continuance of the action is not irrational or oppressive. Pp. 64-65.

 * (b) Appellants are not denied due process because rental payments are not suspended while the alleged wrongdoings of the landlord are litigated, as Oregon may treat the tenant's undertakings and those of the landlord as independent covenants. P. 68.

 * (c) Appellants are not foreclosed from instituting suit against the landlord and litigating their right to damages and other relief in that action, nor have they shown that Oregon excludes any "available" defenses on the limited questions at issue in a FED suit. Pp. 65-66, 69.

 * 2. Neither the early-trial provision nor the limitation on litigable issues is invalid on its face under the Equal Protection Clause. Pp. 69-74.

 * (a) The State has the power to implement its legitimate objective of achieving rapid and peaceful settlement of possessory disputes between landlord and tenant by enacting special provisions applicable only to such disputes. Pp. 70-73.

 * (b) Absent constitutional mandate, the assurance of adequate housing and the definition of landlord-tenant relationships is a legislative function. P. 74.

 * 3. The double-bond prerequisite for appealing an FED action does violate the Equal Protection Clause as it arbitrarily discriminates against tenants wishing to appeal from adverse FED decisions. It heavily burdens the statutory right of an FED defendant to appeal and is not necessary to effectuate the State's purpose of preserving the property at issue. Pp. 74-79.

Affirmed in part and reversed in part.

WHITE, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which BURGER, C.J., and STEWART, MARSHALL, and BLACKMUN, JJ., joined. DOUGLAS, J., post, p. 79, and BRENNAN, J., post, p. 90, filed opinions dissenting in part. POWELL and REHNQUIST, JJ., took no part in the consideration or decision of the case.

John H. Clough argued the case for appellants. With him on the briefs was Myron Moskovitz.

Theodore B. Jensen argued the cause for appellee Normet. With him on the briefs was Donald J. DeFrancq.

Briefs of amici curiae urging reversal were filed by Delane C. Carpenter for the Pima County Bar Assn.; by Howard W. Dixon, Bruce S. Rogow, and Steven Rappaport for Legal Services of Greater Miami, Inc.; by Helen S. White and Gerald D. McGonigle for New Hampshire Legal Assistance; by W.J. Michael Cody III for Memphis and Shelby County Legal Services Assn., Inc.; by Elizabeth M. Brooks for June Brooks; by Paul L. McKaskle for Western Center on Law and Poverty; by Martin R. Glenn and John G. O'Mara for Legal Aid Society of Louisville; by Andrea M. Alcarese for Legal Aid Bureau, Inc.; by Nancy E. LeBlanc for Community Action for Legal Services, Inc., et al.; and by Franklin Arthur Martens for Allen County Legal Aid Society et al.

title: Lindsey v. Normet


text:
Page:Satyagraha in South Africa.pdf/287

 After Johannesburg Gokhale visited Natal and then proceeded to Pretoria, where he was put up by the Union Government at the Transvaal hotel. Here he was to meet the ministers of the Government, including General Botha and General Smuts. It was my usual practice to inform Gokhale of all engagements fixed for the day, early in the morning or on the previous evening if he so desired. The coming interview with the Union ministers was a most important affair. We came to the conclusion, that I should not go with Gokhale, nor indeed even offer to go. My presence would raise a sort of barrier between Gokhale and the ministers, who would be handicapped in speaking out without any reserve about what they considered to be the mistakes of the local Indians including my own. Then again they could not with an easy mind make any statement of future policy if they wished to make it. As for all these reasons Gokhale must go alone, it added largely to his burden of responsibility. What was to be done if Gokhale inadvertently committed some mistake of fact, or if he had nothing to say as regards some fact which had not been first brought to his notice, but which was first put to him by the ministers, or if he was called upon to accept some arrangement on behalf of the Indians in the absence of any one of their responsible leaders? But Gokhale resolved this difficulty at once. He asked me to prepare a summary historical statement of the condition of the Indians up to date, and also to put down in writing how far they were prepared to go. And Gokhale said that he would admit his ignorance if anything outside this ‘brief’ cropped up at the interview, and ceased to worry. It now only remained for me to prepare the statement and for him to read it. However it was impossible for me to

title: Page:Satyagraha in South Africa.pdf/287


text:
Page:Satyagraha in South Africa.pdf/288

 narrate the vicissitudes of the Indians’ history in four colonies ranging over a period of 18 years except by writing ten or twenty pages at the least, and there was hardly left any time for Gokhale to look over it. Again there would be many questions he would like to put us after reading the paper. But Gokhale had an infinite capacity for taking pains as he had an exceptionally sharp memory. He kept himself and others awake the whole night, posted himself fully on every point, and went over the whole ground again in order to make sure that he had rightly understood everything. He was at last satisfied. As for me I never had any fears.

Gokhale’s interview with the ministers lasted for about two hours, and when he returned, he said, ‘You must return to India in a year. Everything has been settled. The Black Act will be repealed. The racial bar will be removed from the emigration law. The £3 tax will be abolished.’ ‘I doubt it very much,’ I replied. ‘You do not know the ministers as I do. Being an optimist myself, I love your optimism, but having suffered frequent disappointments, I am not as hopeful in the matter as you are. But I have no fears either. It is enough for me that you have obtained this undertaking from the ministers. It is my duty to fight it out only where it is necessary and to demonstrate that ours is a righteous struggle. The promise given to you will serve as a proof of the justice of our demands and will redouble our fighting spirit if it comes to fighting after all. But I do not think I can return to India in a year and before many more Indians have gone to jail.’

Gokhale said: ‘What I have told you is bound to come to pass. General Botha promised me that the Black Act would be repealed and the £3 tax abolished. You must return to India within twelve months, and I will not have any of your excuses.’

During his visit to Natal Gokhale came in contact with many Europeans in Durban, Maritzburg and other places. He also saw the diamond mines in Kimberley, where as well as at Durban public dinners were arranged

title: Page:Satyagraha in South Africa.pdf/288


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 by the reception committees, and attended by many Europeans. Thus having achieved a conquest of Indian as well as European hearts, Gokhale left South Africa on November 17, 1912. At his wish Mr Kallenbach and I accompanied him as far as Zanzibar. On the steamer we had arranged to have suitable food for him. On his way back to India he was given an ovation at Delagoa Bay, Inhambane, Zanzibar and other ports.

On the steamer our talks were confined to India or to the duty we owed to the motherland. Every word of Gokhale glowed with his tender feeling, truthfulness and patriotism. I observed that even in the games which he played on board the steamer Gokhale had a patriotic motive rather than the mere desire to amuse himself, and excellence was his aim there too.

On the steamer we had ample time to talk to our heart’s content. In these conversations Gokhale prepared me for India. He analysed for me the characters of all the leaders in India and his analysis was so accurate, that I have hardly perceived any difference between Gokhale’s estimate and my own personal experience of them.

There are many sacred reminiscences of mine relating to Gokhale’s tour in South Africa which could be set down here. But I must reluctantly check my pen as they are not relevant to a history of Satyagraha. The parting at Zanzibar was deeply painful to Kallenbach and me, but remembering that the most intimate relations of mortal men must come to an end at last, we somehow reconciled ourselves, and hoped that Gokhale’s prophecy would come true and both of us would be able to go to India in a year’s time. But that was not to be.

However Gokhale’s visit to South Africa stiffened our resolution, and the implications and the importance of his tour were better understood when the struggle was renewed in an active form. If Gokhale had not come over to South Africa, if he had not seen the Union ministers, the abolition of the £3 tax could not have been made a plank in our platform.

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 If the Satyagraha struggle had closed with the repeal of the Black Act, a fresh fight would have been necessary against the £3 tax, and not only would the Indians have come in for endless trouble, but it was doubtful whether they would have been ready so soon for a new and arduous campaign. It was incumbent upon the free Indians to have the tax abolished. All constitutional remedies to that end had been applied but in vain. The tax was being paid ever since 1895. But when a wrong, no matter how flagrant, has continued for a long period of time, people get habituated to it, and it becomes difficult to rouse them to a sense of their duty to resist it, and no less difficult to convince the world that it is a wrong at all. The undertaking given to Gokhale cleared the way for the Satyagrahis. The Government must repeal the tax in terms of their promise, and if they did not, their breach of pledge would be a most cogent reason for continuing the struggle. And this was exactly what happened. Not only did the Government not abolish the tax within a year, but they declared in so many words that it could not be removed at all.

Gokhale’s tour thus not only helped us to make the £3 tax one of the targets of our Satyagraha, but it led to his being recognized as a special authority on the South African question. His views on South Africa now carried greater weight, thanks to his personal knowledge of the Indians in South Africa, and he understood himself and could explain to India what steps the mother country ought to adopt. When the struggle was resumed, India rendered munificent help to the Satyagraha funds and Lord Hardinge heartened the Satyagrahis by expressing his ‘deep and burning’ sympathy for them (December 1913). Messrs Andrews and Pearson came to South Africa from India. All this would have been impossible without Gokhale’s mission.

The breach of the ministers’ pledge and its consequences will be the subject of the next chapter.

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 But there was one day when the strung nerves gave way—when, as she says, "I fairly broke down for ten minutes; sat and cried like a fool. Tabby could neither stand nor walk. Papa had just been declaring that Martha was in imminent danger. I was myself depressed with headache and sickness. That day I hardly knew what to do, or where to turn. Thank God! Martha is now convalescent: Tabby, I trust, will be better soon. Papa is pretty well. I have the satisfaction of knowing that my publishers are delighted with what I sent them. This supports me. But life is a battle. May we all be enabled to fight it well!"

The kind friend, to whom she thus wrote, saw how the poor over-taxed system needed bracing, and accordingly sent her a shower-bath—a thing for which she had long been wishing. The receipt of it was acknowledged as follows:—

1em

" Martha is now almost well, and Tabby much better. A huge monster-package, from 'Nelson, Leeds,' came yesterday. You want chastising roundly and soundly. Such are the thanks you get for all your trouble Whenever you come to Haworth, you shall certainly have a thorough drenching in your own shower-bath. I have not yet unpacked the wretch.—"Yours, as you deserve, "C. B."


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 In prosecuting the Satyagraha struggle the Indians were very careful not to take a single step not warranted by their principles, and they always remembered that they should not take any illegitimate advantage over the Government. For instance, as the Black Act was restricted in its application to Indians in the Transvaal, only the Transvaal Indians were admitted as recruits in the struggle. Not only was there no attempt made to obtain recruits from Natal, the Cape Colony etc., but offers from outside the Transvaal were politely refused. The struggle also was limited to a repeal of the Act in question. This limitation was understood neither by the Europeans nor by Indians. In the early stages the Indians were every now and then asking for other grievances besides the Black Act to be covered by the struggle. I patiently explained to them that such extension would be a violation of the truth, which could not be so much as thought of in a movement professing to abide by truth and truth alone. In a pure fight the fighters would never go beyond the objective fixed when the fight began even if they received an accession to their strength in course of the fighting, and on the other hand they could not give up their objective if they found their strength dwindling away. This twofold principle was fully observed in South Africa. The strength of the community, upon which we counted in determining our goal at the commencement of the struggle, did not answer our expectations as we have already seen, and yet the handful of Satyagrahis who remained stuck to their posts. Fighting thus single-handed in the face of odds was comparatively easy, but it was more difficult, and called for the exercise of greater self-restraint, not to enlarge one’s objective when one had

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 received large reinforcements. Such temptations often faced us in South Africa, but I can emphatically declare that we did not succumb to them in any single case. And therefore I have often said that a Satyagrahi has a single objective from which he cannot recede and beyond which he cannot advance, which can in fact be neither augmented nor abridged. The world learns to apply to a man the standards which he applies to himself. When the Government saw, that the Satyagrahis claimed to follow these fine principles, they began to judge the conduct of the Satyagrahis in the light of those principles, although they themselves were apparently not bound by any principle whatever, and several times charged the Satyagrahis with a violation of their principles. Even a child can see that if fresh anti-Indian legislation was enacted after the Black Act, it must be included in the Satyagraha programme. And yet when fresh restrictions were imposed on Indian immigration and necessitated an extension of our programme, the Government levelled against us the totally undeserved charge of raising fresh issues. If new restraints were placed on Indian newcomers, we must have the right to recruit them for the movement, and hence Sorabji and others entered the Transvaal, as we have already seen. Government could not tolerate this at all, but I had no difficulty in persuading impartial people about the propriety of the step. Another such occasion arose after Gokhale’s departure. Gokhale supposed that the £3 tax would be taken off in a year and the necessary legislation would be introduced in the next ensuing session of the Union Parliament. Instead of this. General Smuts from his seat in the House of Assembly said that as the Europeans in Natal objected to the repeal of the tax, the Union Government were unable to pass legislation directing its removal, which however was not the case. The members from Natal by themselves could do nothing in a body upon which the four Colonies were represented. Again General Smuts ought to have brought forward the necessary Bill in the Assembly on behalf of the Cabinet

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 There was misfortune of another kind impending over her. There were some railway shares, which, so early as 1846, she had told Miss Wooler she wished to sell, but had kept because she could not persuade her sisters to look upon the affair as she did, and so preferred running the risk of loss, to hurting Emily's feelings by acting in opposition to her opinion. The depreciation of these same shares was now verifying Charlotte's soundness of judgment. They were in the York and North-Midland Company, which was one of Mr. Hudson's pet lines, and had the full benefit of his peculiar system of management. She applied to her friend and publisher, Mr. Smith, for information on the subject; and the following letter is in answer to his reply:—

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"My dear Sir,—I must not thank you for, but acknowledge the receipt of your letter. The business is certainly very bad; worse than I thought, and much worse than my father has any idea of. In fact, the little railway property I possessed, according to original prices, formed already a small competency for me, with my views and habits. Now, scarcely any portion of it can, with security, be calculated upon. I must open this view of the case to my father by degrees; and, meanwhile, wait patiently till I see how affairs are likely to turn However the matter may terminate, I ought perhaps to be rather thankful than dissatisfied. When I look at my own case, and compare it with that


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 and then left the measure to its fate. But he did nothing of the kind, and provided us with the welcome opportunity of including the despicable impost as a cause of ‘war.’ There were two reasons for this. First, if in course of the struggle the Government made a promise and then went back upon it, the programme would naturally be extended so as to embrace such repudiation as well, and secondly, the breach of a promise, made to such a representative of India as Gokhale was, was not only a personal insult to him but also to the whole of India, and as such could not be taken lying down. If there had been only one reason, namely the first by itself, the Satyagrahis, in case they felt themselves unequal to the task, could have been excused if they did not offer Satyagraha against the £3 tax. But it was impossible to pocket an insult offered to the mother country, and therefore we felt the Satyagrahis were bound to include the £3 tax in their programme, and when this tax thus fell within the scope of the struggle, the indentured Indians had an opportunity of participating in it. The reader must note that thus far this class had been kept out of the fray. This new orientation of our policy increased our burden of responsibility on the one hand, and on the other opened up a fresh field of recruitment for our ‘army.’

Thus far Satyagraha had not been so much as mentioned among the indentured labourers; still less had they been educated to take part in it. Being illiterate, they could not read Indian Opinion or other newspapers. Yet I found that these poor folk were keen observers of the struggle and understood the movement, while some of them regretted their inability to join it. But when the Union ministers broke their pledged word, and repeal of the £3 tax was also included in our programme, I was not at all aware as to which of them would participate in the struggle.

I wrote to Gokhale about the breach of pledge, and he was deeply pained to hear of it. I asked him not to be anxious and assured him that we would fight unto death and wring a repeal of the tax out of the unwilling

S.A.-18

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 hands of the Transvaal Government. The idea, however, of my returning to India in a year had to he abandoned, and it was impossible to say when I would be able to go. Gokhale was nothing if not a man of figures. He asked me to let him know the maximum and the minimum strength of our army of peace, along with the names of the fighters. As far as I can now remember, I sent 65 or 66 names as the highest and 16 as the lowest number, and also informed Gokhale that I would not expect monetary assistance from India for such small numbers. I besought him to have no fears and not to put an undue strain upon his physical resources. I had learnt from newspapers and otherwise that after Gokhale returned to Bombay from South Africa, charges of weakness etc. had been laid at his door. I therefore wished that Gokhale should not try to raise any funds for us in India. But this was his stern answer: ‘We in India have some idea of our duty even as you understand your obligations in South Africa. We will not permit you to tell us what is or is not proper for us to do. I only desired to know the position in South Africa, but did not seek your advice as to what we may do.’ I grasped Gokhale’s meaning, and never afterwards said or wrote a word on the subject. In the same letter he gave me consolation and caution. He was afraid in view of the breach of pledge that it would be a long protracted struggle, and he doubted how long a handful of men could continue to give battle to the insolent brute force of the Union Government. In South Africa we set about making our preparations. There could be no sitting at ease in the ensuing campaign. It was realized that we would be imprisoned for long terms. It was decided to close Tolstoy Farm. Some families returned to their homes upon the release of the breadwinners. The rest mostly belonged to Phoenix, which therefore was pitched upon as the future base of operations for the Satyagrahis. Another reason for preferring Phoenix was, that if the indentured labourers joined the struggle against the £3 tax, it would be more convenient to meet them from a place in Natal.

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 of thousands besides, I scarcely see room for a murmur. Many, very many, are by the late strange railway system deprived almost of their daily bread. Such then as have only lost provision laid up for the future, should take care how they complain. The thought that 'Shirley' has given pleasure at Cornhill, yields me much quiet comfort. No doubt, however, you are, as I am, prepared for critical severity; but I have good hopes that the vessel is sufficiently sound of construction to weather a gale or two, and to make a prosperous voyage for you in the end."

Towards the close of October in this year, she went to pay a visit to her friend; but her enjoyment in the holiday, which she had so long promised herself when her work was completed, was deadened by a continual feeling of ill-health; either the change of air or the foggy weather produced constant irritation at the chest. Moreover, she was anxious about the impression which her second work would produce on the public mind. For obvious reasons, an author is more susceptible to opinions pronounced on the book which follows a great success, than he has ever been before. Whatever be the value of fame, he has it in his possession, and is not willing to have it dimmed or lost.

"Shirley" was published on October 26th.

When it came out, but before reading it, Mr. Lewes wrote to tell her of his intention of reviewing it in the "Edinburgh." Her correspondence with him had ceased for some time: much had occurred since.


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Flora's Party

 * Flora's Party, in Poems, 1834.
 * Flora's Party, in Voice of Flowers, 1846.

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 preparations were still being made for resuming the struggle, a fresh grievance came into being, which afforded an opportunity even to women to do their bit in the struggle. Some brave women had already offered to participate, and when Satyagrahis went to jail for hawking without a licence, their wives had expressed a desire to follow suit. But we did not then think it proper to send women to jail in a foreign land. There seemed to be no adequate reason for sending them into the firing line, and or my part could not summon courage enough to take them to the front. Another argument was, that it would be derogatory to our manhood if we sacrificed our women m resisting a law which was directed only against men. But an event now happened, which involved a special affront to women, and which therefore left no doubt in our minds as to the propriety of sacrificing them.

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 As if unseen by any one God was preparing the ingredients for the Indians’ victory and demonstrating still more clearly the injustice of the Europeans in South Africa, an event happened which none had expected. Many married men came to South Africa from India, while some Indians contracted a marriage in South Africa itself. There is no law for the registration of ordinary marriages in India, and the religious ceremony suffices to confer validity upon them. The same custom ought to apply to Indians in South Africa as well and although Indians had settled in South Africa for the last forty years, the validity of marriages solemnized according to the rites of the various religions of India had never been called in question. But at this time there was a case in which Mr Justice Searle of the Cape Supreme Court gave judgment on March 14, 1913 to the effect that all marriages were outside the pale of legal marriages in South Africa with the exception of such as were celebrated according to Christian rites and registered by the Registrar of Marriages. This terrible judgment thus nullified in South Africa at a stroke of the pen all marriages celebrated according to the Hindu, Musalman and Zoroastrian rites. The many married Indian women in South Africa in terms of this judgment ceased to rank as the wives of their husbands and were degraded to the rank of concubines, while their progeny were deprived of their right to inherit the parents’ property. This was an insufferable situation for women no less than men, and the Indians in South Africa were deeply agitated.

According to my usual practice I wrote to the Government, asking them whether they agreed to the Searle judgment and whether, if the judge was right in

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