Nov 30, 2007

Red Hat Girl

Back we held, two miles and more to windward of the struggling cockleshell, when the flying jib was run down and the schooner hove to. In all that wild waste there was no refuge for Leach and Johnson save on the Ghost, and they resolutely began the windward beat. At the end of an hour and a half they were nearly alongside, standing past our stern on the last leg out, aiming to fetch us on the next leg back. ¡¡¡¡'So you've changed your mind?' I heard Wolf Larsen mutter, half to himself, half to them, as though they could hear. 'You want to come aboard, eh? Well, then, just keep a-coming. Hard up with that helm!' he commanded Oofty-Oofty, the Kanaka, who had in the meantime relieved Louis at the wheel. ¡¡¡¡Command followed command. As the schooner paid off, the fore-and main-sheets were slacked away for fair wind. And before the wind we

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when Johnson, easing his sheet at imminent peril, cut across our wake a hundred feet away. Again Wolf Larsen laughed, at the same time beckoning them with his arm to follow. It was evidently his intention to play with them- a lesson, I took it, in lieu of a beating, though a dangerous lesson, for the frail craft stood in momentary danger of being overwhelmed. ¡¡¡¡''T is the fear of death at the hearts of them,' Louis muttered in my ear as I passed forward to see to taking in the flying jib and staysail. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, he'll heave to in a little while and pick them up,' I answered cheerfully. ¡¡¡¡Louis looked at me shrewdly. 'Think so?' he asked. ¡¡¡¡'Surely,' I answered. 'Don't you?' ¡¡¡¡'I think nothing but of my own skin, these days,' was his answer. 'An' 't is with wonder I'm filled as to the workin' out of things. A pretty mess that 'Frisco whisky got me into, an' a prettier mess that woman's got you into aft there. Ah, it's myself that knows ye for a blitherin' fool.'

Nighthawks Hopper

me, and I could see that his face was worn and haggard. I waved my hand to him, and he answered the greeting, but with a wave that was hopeless and despairing. It was as if he were saying farewell. I did not see into the eyes of Leach, for he was looking at Wolf Larsen, the old and implacable snarl of hatred as strong as ever on his face. ¡¡¡¡Then they were gone astern. The sprit-sail filled with the wind suddenly, careening the frail, open craft till it seemed it would surely capsize. ¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen barked a short laugh in my ear and strode away to the weather side of the poop. I expected him to give orders for the Ghost to heave to, but she kept on her course and he made no sign. Louis tood imperturbably at the wheel, but I noticed the grouped sailors forward turning troubled faces in our direction. Still the Ghost tore along till the boat dwindled to a speck, when Wolf Larsen's voice rang out in command, and we went about on the starboard tack.

Spring Breeze

'What do you mean?' I demanded; for, having sped his shaft, he was turning away. ¡¡¡¡'What do I mean?' he cried. 'An' it's you that asks me! 'T is not what I mean, but what the Wolf'll mean. The Wolf, I said, the Wolf!' ¡¡¡¡'If trouble comes, will you stand by?' asked impulsively, for he had voiced my own fear. ¡¡¡¡'Stand by? 'T is old fat Louis I stand by, an' trouble enough it'll be. We're at the beginnin' of things, I'm tellin' ye, the bare beginnin' of things.' ¡¡¡¡'I had not thought you so great a coward,' I sneered. ¡¡¡¡He favored me with a contemptuous stare. ¡¡¡¡'If I raised never a hand for that poor fool,'- pointing astern to the tiny sail,- 'd' ye think I'm hungerin' for a broken head for a woman I never laid me eyes upon before this day?' ¡¡¡¡I turned scornfully away and went aft. ¡¡¡¡'Better get in those topsails, Mr. Van Weyden,' Wolf Larsen said, as I came on the poop.

The Broken Pitcher

I felt relief, at least as far as the two men were concerned. I had scarcely opened my mouth to issue the necessary commands, when eager men were springing to halyards and downhauls, and others were racing aloft. This eagerness on their part was noted by Wolf Larsen with a grim smile. ¡¡¡¡Still we increased our lead, and when the boat had dropped astern several miles we hove to and waited. All eyes watched it coming, even Wolf Larsen's; but he was the only unperturbed man aboard. Louis, gazing fixedly, betrayed a trouble in his face he was not quite able to hide. ¡¡¡¡The boat drew closer and closer, hurling along through the seething green like a thing alive, lifting and sending and uptossing across the huge-backed breakers, or disappearing behind them only to rush into sight again and shoot skyward. It seemed impossible that it could continue to live, yet with each dizzying sweep it did achieve the impossible. A rain-squall drove past, and out of the flying wet the boat emerged, almost upon us. ¡¡¡¡'Hard up, there!' Wolf Larsen shouted, himself springing to the wheel and whirling it over.

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don't think it was worth it,' I said to Wolf Larsen, 'a broken boat for Kelly's life.' ¡¡¡¡'But Kelly didn't amount to much,' was the reply. 'Good night.' ¡¡¡¡After all that had passed, suffering intolerable anguish in my finger-ends, and with three boats missing, to say nothing of the wild capers the Ghost was cutting, I would have thought it impossible to sleep. But my eyes must have closed the instant my head touched the pillow, and in utter exhaustion I slept throughout the night, the while the Ghost, lonely and undirected, fought her way through the storm. HAPTER EIGHTEEN. ¡¡¡¡THE NEXT DAY, WHILE THE STORM was blowing itself out, Wolf Larsen and I 'crammed' anatomy and surgery and set Mugridge's ribs. Then, when the storm broke, Wolf Larsen cruised back and forth over that portion of the ocean where we had encountered it, and somewhat more to the westward, while the boats

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were being repaired and new sails made and bent. Also, a new galley was being constructed out of odds and ends of lumber from the hold. Sealing-schooner after sealing-schooner we sighted and boarded, most of which were in search of lost boats, and most of which were carrying boats and crews that they had picked up and that did not belong to them. For the thick of the fleet had been to the westward of us, and the boats, scattered far and wide, had headed in mad flight for the nearest refuge. ¡¡¡¡Two of our boats, with men all safe, we took off the Cisco, and, to Wolf Larsen's huge delight and my own grief, he culled Smoke, with Nilson and Leach, from the San Diego. So that, at the end of five days, we found ourselves short but four men, Henderson, Holyoak, Williams, and Kelly, and were once more hunting on the flanks of the herd. ¡¡¡¡As we followed north, we began to encounter the dreaded sea-fogs. Day after day the boats were lowered and swallowed up almost before they touched the water, while we on board pumped the horn at regular intervals, and every fifteen minutes fired the bomb-gun. Boats were continually being lost and found, it being the

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custom for a boat to hunt, on lay, with whatever schooner picked it up, until such time as it was recovered by its own schooner. But Wolf Larsen, as was to be expected, being a boat short, took possession of the first stray one and compelled its men to hunt with the Ghost, not permitting them to return to their own schooner when we sighted it. I remember how he forced the hunter and his two men below, a rifle at their breasts, when their captain passed by at biscuit-toss and hailed us for information. ¡¡¡¡Thomas Mugridge, so strangely and pertinaciously clinging to life, was soon limping about again and performing his double duties of cook and cabin-boy. Johnson and Leach were bullied and beaten as much as ever, and they looked for their lives to end with the end of the hunting season; while the rest of the crew lived the lives of dogs and were worked like dogs by their pitiless master. As for Wolf Larsen and me, we got along fairly well, though I could not quite rid myself of the idea that

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right conduct for me lay in killing him. He fascinated me immeasurably, and I feared him immeasurably; and yet I could not imagine him lying prone in death. There was an endurance, as of perpetual youth, about him, which rose up and forbade the picture. I could see him only as living always and dominating always, fighting and destroying, himself surviving. ¡¡¡¡One diversion of his, when we were in the midst of the herd and the sea was too rough to lower the boats, was to lower with two boat-pullers and a steerer and go out himself. He was a good shot, too, and brought many a skin aboard under what the hunters termed 'impossible hunting conditions.' It seemed the breath of his nostrils, this carrying his life in his hands and struggling for it against tremendous odds. ¡¡¡¡I was learning more and more seamanship, and one clear day, a thing we rarely encountered now, I had the satisfaction of running and handling the Ghost and

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picking up the boats myself. Wolf Larsen had been smitten with one of his headaches, and I stood at the wheel from morning until evening, sailing across the ocean after the last lee boat, and heaving to and picking it and the other five up without command or suggestion from him. ¡¡¡¡Gales we encountered now and again, for it was a raw and stormy region, and, in the middle of June, a typhoon most memorable to me, and most important because of the changes wrought through it upon my future. We must have been caught nearly at the center of this circular storm, and Wolf Larsen ran out of it and to the southward, first under a double-reefed jib, and finally under bare poles. Never had I imagined so great a sea. The seas previously encountered were as ripples compared with these, which ran a half-mile from crest to crest and which upreared, I am confident, above our masthead. So great was it that Wolf Larsen himself did not dare heave to, though he was being driven far to the southward and out of the seal herd.

Nov 29, 2007

The British Are Coming

Everybody looked for Larsen to leap upon the boy and destroy him. But it was not his whim. His cigar went out, and he continued to gaze silently and curiously. ¡¡¡¡Leach had worked himself into an ecstasy of impotent rage. ¡¡¡¡'Pig! Pig! Pig!' he was reiterating at the top of his lungs. 'Why don't you come down and kill me, you murderer? You can do it. I ain't afraid. There's no one to stop you! Come on, you coward! Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!' ¡¡¡¡It was at this stage that Thomas Mugridge's erratic soul brought him into the scene. He had been listening at the galley door, but he now came out, ostensibly to fling some scraps over the side, but obviously to see the killing he was certain would take place. He smirked greasily up into the face of Wolf Larsen, who seemed not to see him. But the Cockney was unabashed, and turned to Leach, saying: ¡¡¡¡'Such language! Shockin'!'

The Lady of Shalott

Leach's rage was no longer impotent. Here at last was something ready to hand, and for the first time since the stabbing the Cockney had appeared outside the galley without his knife. The words had barely left his mouth when he was knocked down by Leach. Three times he struggled to his feet, striving to gain the galley, and each time was knocked down. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, Lord!' he cried. ''Elp! 'Elp! Tyke 'im aw'y, carn't yer? Tyke 'im aw'y!' ¡¡¡¡The hunters laughed from sheer relief. Tragedy had dwindled, the farce had begun. The sailors now crowded boldly aft, grinning and shuffling, to watch the pommeling of the hated Cockney. And even I felt a great joy surge up within me. I confess that I delighted in this beating Leach was giving to Thomas Mugridge, though it was as terrible, almost, as the one Mugridge had caused to be given to Johnson. But the expression of Wolf Larsen's face did not change,- nor did his position. For all his pragmatic certitude, it seemed as if he watched the play and movement of life in the hope of discovering something more about it. And no one interfered.

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FOR THREE DAYS I DID MY OWN work and Thomas Mugridge's too, and I flatter myself that I did his work well. I know that it won Wolf Larsen's approval, while the sailors beamed with satisfaction during the brief time my regime lasted. ¡¡¡¡'The first clean bite since I come aboard Harrison said to me at the galley door, as he returned the dinner pots and pans from the forecastle. 'Somehow, Tommy's grub always tastes of grease,- stale grease,- and I reckon he ain't changed his shirt since he left 'Frisco.' ¡¡¡¡'I know he hasn't,' I answered. ¡¡¡¡'And I'll bet he sleeps in it,' Harrison added. ¡¡¡¡'And you won't lose,' I agreed. 'The same shirt, and he hasn't had it off once in all this time.' ¡¡¡¡But three days were all Wolf Larsen allowed him in which to recover from the effects of the beating. On the fourth day, lame and sore, scarcely able to see, so closed were his eyes, he was haled from his bunk by the nape of the neck and set to his duty. He sniffled and wept, but Wolf Larsen was pitiless

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having thrashed them, he proceeded to operate upon them in a rough surgical fashion and to dress their wounds. I served as assistant while he probed and cleansed the passages made by the bullets, and I saw the two men endure his crude surgery without anesthetics and with no more to uphold them than a stiff tumbler of whiskey. ¡¡¡¡Then, in the first dog-watch, trouble came to a head in the forecastle. It took its rise out of the tittle-tattle and tale-bearing that had been the cause of Johnson's beating, and from the noise we heard, and from the sight of the bruised men next day, it was patent that half the forecastle had soundly drubbed the other half. ¡¡¡¡The second dog-watch and the day wound up with a fight between Johansen and the lean, Yankee-looking hunter, Latimer. It was caused by some remarks of Latimer's concerning the noises made by the mate in his sleep, and though Johansen was whipped, he kept the steerage awake for the rest of the night while he blissfully slumbered and fought the fight over and over again.

The Painter's Honeymoon

Leach could have killed the Cockney, but, having evidently filled the measure of his vengeance, he drew away from his prostrate foe, who was whimpering and wailing in a puppyish sort of way, and walked forward. ¡¡¡¡But these two affairs were only the opening events of the day's program. In the afternoon Smoke and Henderson fell foul of each other, and a fusillade of shots came up from the steerage, followed by a stampede of the other four hunters for the deck. A column of thick, acrid smoke, the kind always made by black powder, was arising through the open companion-way, and down through it leaped Wolf Larsen. The sound of blows and scuffling came to our ears. Both men were wounded, and he was thrashing them both for having disobeyed his orders and crippled themselves in advance of the hunting season. In fact, they were badly wounded, and,

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speech, and fear and hatred and pain were my only soul-experiences? I do not care to remember. A madness comes up in my brain even now as I think of it. But there were coastwise skippers I would have sought and killed when a man's strength came to me, only the lines of my life were cast at the time in other places. I did return, not long ago, but unfortunately the skippers were dead, all but one, a mate in the old days, a skipper when I met him, and when I left him, a cripple who would never walk again.' ¡¡¡¡'But you who read Spencer and Darwin and have never seen the inside of a school, how did you learn to read and write?' I queried. ¡¡¡¡'In the English merchant service. Cabin-boy at twelve, ship's boy at fourteen, ordinary seaman at sixteen, able seaman at seventeen and cock of the fo'c's'le; infinite ambition and infinite loneliness, receiving neither help nor sympathy, I did it all for myself- navigation, mathematics, science, literature, and what not. And of what use has it been? Master and owner of a ship at the top of my life, as you say, when I am beginning to diminish and die. Paltry, isn't it? And when the sun was up I was scorched, and because I had no root I withered away.'

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'But history tells of slaves who rose to the purple,' I chided. ¡¡¡¡'And history tells of opportunities that came to the slaves who rose to the purple,' he answered grimly. 'No man makes opportunity. All the great men ever did was to know it when it came to them. The Corsican knew. I have dreamed as greatly as the Corsican. I should have known the opportunity, but it never came. The thorns sprung up and choked me. And, Hump, I can tell you that you know more about me than any living man except my own brother.' ¡¡¡¡'And what is he? And where is he?' ¡¡¡¡'Master of the steamship Macedonia, seal-hunter,' was the answer. 'We will meet him most probably on the Japan coast. Men call him "Death" Larsen.' ¡¡¡¡'Death Larsen!' I involuntarily cried. 'Is he like you?' ¡¡¡¡'Hardly. He is a lump of an animal without any head. He has all my- my-' ¡¡¡¡'Brutishness,' I suggested.

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'Yes, thank you for the word- all my brutishness; but he can scarcely read or write.' ¡¡¡¡'And he has never philosophized on life,' I added. ¡¡¡¡'No,' Wolf Larsen answered, with an indescribable air of sadness. 'And he is all the happier for leaving life alone. He is too busy living it to think about it. My mistake was in ever opening the books.' ¡CHAPTER ELEVEN. ¡¡¡¡THE GHOST HAS ATTAINED the southernmost point of the arc she is describing across the Pacific, and is already beginning to edge away to the west and north toward some lone island, it is rumored, where she will fill her water-casks before proceeding to the season's hunt along the coast of Japan. The hunters have experimented and practiced with their rifles and shotguns till they are satisfied, and the boat-pullers and steerers have made their sprit-sails, bound the oars and rowlocks in leather and sennit so that they will make no noise when creeping on the seals, and put their boats in apple-pie order, to use Leach's homely phrase

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¡¡¡¡His arm, by the way, has healed nicely, though the scar will remain all his life. Thomas Mugridge lives in mortal fear of him, and is afraid to venture on deck after dark. There are two or three standing quarrels in the forecastle. Louis tells me that the gossip of the sailors finds its way aft, and that two of the telltales have been badly beaten by their mates. He shakes his head dubiously over the outlook for the man Johnson, who is boat-puller in the same boat with him. Johnson has been guilty of speaking his mind too freely, and has collided two or three times with Wolf Larsen over the pronunciation of his name. Johansen he thrashed on the amidships deck the other night, since which time the mate has called him by his proper name. But of course it is out of the question that Johnson should thrash Wolf Larsen. ¡¡¡¡Louis has also given me additional information about Death Larsen, which tallies with the captain's brief description. We may expect to meet Death Larsen on the

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Japan coast. 'And look out for squalls,' is Louis's prophecy, 'for they hate one another like the wolf-whelps they are.' Death Larsen is in command of the only sealing-steamer in the fleet, which carries fourteen boats, where the schooners carry only six. There is wild talk of cannon aboard, and of strange raids and expeditions she may make, ranging from opium-smuggling into the States and arms-smuggling into China, to black-birding and open piracy. Yet I cannot but believe Louis, for I have never yet caught him in a lie, while he has a cyclopedic knowledge of sealing and the men of the sealing-fleets. ¡¡¡¡As it is forward and in the galley, so it is in the steerage and aft, on this veritable hell-ship. Men fight and struggle ferociously for one another's lives. The hunters are looking for a shooting scrape at any moment between Smoke and Henderson, whose old quarrel has not healed, while Wolf Larsen says positively that he will kill the survivor of the affair if such affair comes off. He frankly states that the position he takes is based on no moral grounds, that all the hunters could kill and eat one

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Thomas Mugridge crawled weakly across the galley floor, and a short lurch of the Ghost sent him staggering. In attempting to recover himself, he reached for the iron railing which surrounded the stove and kept the pots from sliding off; but his missed the railing, and his hand, with his weight behind it, landed squarely on the hot surface. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, Gawd, Gawd, wot 'ave I done?' he wailed, sitting down in the coalbox and nursing his new hurt by rocking back and forth. 'W'y 'as all this come on me? It mykes me fair sick, it does, an' I try so 'ard to go through life harmless an' 'urtin' nobody.' ¡¡¡¡The tears were running down his puffed and discolored cheeks, and his face was drawn with pain. A savage expression flitted across it. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, 'ow I 'ate 'im! 'Ow I 'ate 'im!' he gritted out. ¡¡¡¡'Whom?' I asked; but the poor wretch was weeping again over his misfortunes. Less difficult it was to guess whom he hated than whom he did not hate; for I had come to see a malignant devil in him which impelled him to hate all the world. I sometimes thought that he hated even himself, so grotesquely had life dealt with him,

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and so monstrously. At such moments a great sympathy welled up within me, and I felt shame that I had ever joyed in his discomfiture or pain. Life had been unfair to him. It had played him a scurvy trick when it fashioned him into the thing he was, and it had played him scurvy tricks ever since. What chance had he to be anything else than what he was? And as though answering my unspoken thought, he wailed: ¡¡¡¡'I never 'ad no chance, nor 'arf a chance! 'Oo was there to send me to school, or put tommy in my 'ungry bell w'en I was a kiddy? 'Oo ever did anything for me, heh? 'oo, I s'y?' ¡¡¡¡'Never mind, Tommy,' I said, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. 'Cheer up. It'll all come right in the end. You've long years before you, and you can make anything you please of yourself.' ¡¡¡¡'It's a lie!' he shouted in my face, flinging off the hand. 'It's a lie, an' you know it. I'm already myde, an' myde out of leavin's an' scraps. It's all right for you, 'Ump. You was born a gentleman. You never knew wot it was to go 'ungry, to cry yerself asleep with a gnawin' an' gnawin', like a rat, inside yer. It carn't come right. If I was President of the United Stytes to-morrer, low would it fill my belly for one time w'en I was a kiddy an' it went empty?

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''Ow could it, I s'y? I was born to sufferin' and' sorrer. I've 'ad more cruel sufferin' than any ten men, I 'ave. I've been in 'orspital 'arf my bleedin' life. I've 'ad the fever in Aspinwall, in 'Avana, in New Orleans. I near died of the scurvy, an' rotten with it six months in Barbados. Smallpox in 'Onolulu, two broken legs in Shanghai, pneumonia in Unalaska, three busted ribs an' my insides all twisted in 'Frisco. An' 'ere I am now. Look at me! Look at me! My ribs kicked loose from my back again. I'll be coughin' blood before eyght bells. 'Ow can it be myde up to me, I arsk? 'Oo's goin' to do it? Gawd? 'Ow Gawd must 'ave 'ated me w'en 'e signed me on for a voyage in this bloomin' world of 'is!' ¡¡¡¡This tirade against destiny went on for an hour or more, and then he buckled to his work, limping and groaning, and in his eyes a great hatred for all created things.

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returned it privily to Leach next day. He grinned when I handed it over, yet it was a grin that contained more sincere thanks than a multitude of the verbosities of speech common to the members of my own class. ¡¡¡¡Unlike any one else in the ship's company, I now found myself with no quarrels on my hands and in the good graces of all. The hunters possibly no more than tolerated me, though none of them disliked me; while Smoke and Henderson, convalescent under a deck awning and swinging day and night in their hammocks, assured me that I was better than any hospital nurse, and that they would not forget me at the end of the voyage when they were paid off. As though I stood in need of their money- I, who could have bought them out, bag and baggage, and the schooner and its equipment, a hundred times over! But upon me had devolved the task of tending their wounds and pulling them through, and I did my best by them.

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Several days more passed before Johnson crawled on deck and went about his work in a half-hearted way. He was still a sick man, and I more than once observed him creeping painfully aloft to a topsail or drooping wearily as he stood at the wheel. But, still worse, it seemed that his spirit was broken. He was abject before Wolf Larsen, and almost groveled to Johansen. Not so Leach. He went about the deck like a tiger-cub, glaring his hatred openly at Wolf Larsen and Johansen. ¡¡¡¡'I'll do for you yet, you slab-footed Swede.' I heard him say to Johansen one night on deck. ¡¡¡¡The mate cursed him in the darkness, and the next moment some missile struck the galley a sharp rap. There was more cursing, and a mocking laugh, and when all was quiet I stole outside and found a heavy knife embedded over an inch in the solid wood. A few minutes later the mate came fumbling about in search of it, but I

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You call me a pessimist. Is not this pessimism of the blackest?- 'all is vanity and vexation of spirit'; 'there is no profit under the sun'; 'there is one event unto all,' to the fool and the wise, the clean and the unclean, the sinner and the saint; and that event is death, and an evil thing, he says. For the Preacher loved life, and did not want to die, saying, 'For a living dog is better than a dead lion.' He preferred the vanity and vexation to the silence and unmovableness of the grave. And so I. To crawl is piggish; but to not crawl, to be as the clod and rock, is loathsome to contemplate. It is loathsome to the life that is in me, the very essence of which is movement, the power of movement, and the consciousness of the power of movement. Life itself is unsatisfaction, but to look ahead to death is greater unsatisfaction.' ¡¡¡¡'You are worse off than Omar,' I said. 'He, at least, after the customary agonizing of youth, found content and made of his materialism a joyous thing.' ¡¡¡¡'Who was Omar?' Wolf Larsen asked, and I did no more work that day, nor the next, or next.

Rembrandt Biblical Scene

¡¡¡¡In his random reading he had never chanced upon the 'Rubaiyat,' and it was to him like a great find of treasure. Much I remembered, possibly two thirds of the quatrains, and I managed to piece out the remainder without difficulty. We talked for hours over single stanzas, and I found him reading into them a wail of regret and a rebellion which for the life of me I could not discover myself. Possibly I recited with a certain joyous lilt which was my own, for- his memory was good, and at a second rendering, very often the first, he made a quatrain his own- he recited the same lines and invested them with an unrest and passionate revolt that were well-nigh convincing. ¡¡¡¡I was interested as to which quatrain he would like best, and was not surprised when he hit upon the one born of an instant's irritability and quite at variance with the Persian's complacent philosophy and genial code of life:

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What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? ¡¡¡¡ And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! ¡¡¡¡ Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine ¡¡¡¡ Must drown the memory of that insolence! ¡¡¡¡'Great!' Wolf Larsen cried. 'Great! That's the keynote. Insolence! He could not have used a better word.' ¡¡¡¡In vain I objected and denied. He deluged me, overwhelmed me with argument. ¡¡¡¡'It's not the nature of life to be otherwise. Life, when it knows that it must cease living, will always rebel. It cannot help itself. The Preacher found life and the works of life all a vanity and vexation, an evil thing; but death, the ceasing to be able to be vain and vexed, he found an eviler thing. Through chapter after chapter he is worried by the one event that cometh to all alike. So Omar, so I, so you, even you, for you rebelled against dying when Cooky sharpened a knife for you. You were

The British Are Coming

afraid to die; the life that was in you, that composes you, that is greater than you, did not want to die. You have talked of the instinct of immortality. I talk of the instinct of life, which is to live, and which, when death looms near and large, masters the instinct, so called, of immortality. It mastered it in you (you cannot deny it), because a crazy Cockney cook sharpened a knife. ¡¡¡¡'You are afraid of him now. You are afraid of me. You cannot deny it. If I catch you by the throat thus,'- his hand was about my throat, and my breath was shut off,- 'and begin to press the life out of you, thus, and thus, your instinct of immortality will go glimmering, and your instinct of life, which is longing for life, will flutter up, and you will struggle to save yourself. Eh? I see the fear of death in your eyes. You beat the air with your arms. You exert all your puny strength to struggle to live

The Lady of Shalott

Your hand is clutching my arm; lightly it feels as a butterfly resting there. Your chest is heaving, your tongue protruding, your skin turning dark, your eyes swimming. "To live! To live! To live!" you are crying; and you are crying to live here and now, not hereafter. You doubt your immortality, eh? Ha! ha! You are not sure of it. You won't chance it. This life only you are certain is real. Ah, it is growing dark and darker. It is the darkness of death, the ceasing to be, the ceasing to feel, the ceasing to move, that is gathering about you, descending upon you, rising around you. Your eyes are becoming set. They are glazing. My voice sounds faint and far. You cannot see my face. And still you struggle in my grip. You kick with your legs. Your body draws itself up in knots like a snake's. Your chest heaves and strains. To live! To live! To live- ' ¡¡¡¡I heard no more. Consciousness was blotted out by the darkness he had so graphically described, and when I came to myself I was lying on the floor, and he was smoking a cigar and regarding me thoughtfully with that old, familiar light of curiosity in his eyes.

Nov 27, 2007

The Three Ages of Woman

'We'll see to that,' Wolf Larsen answered, and elevated his voice in a cal of 'Cooky!' ¡¡¡¡Thomas Mugridge popped out of his galley like a jack-in-the-box. ¡¡¡¡'Go below and fill a sack with coal.' ¡¡¡¡'Any of you fellows got a Bible or prayer-book?' was the captain's next demand, this time of the hunters lounging about the companionway. ¡¡¡¡They shook their heads, and some one made a jocular remark which I did not catch, but which raised a general laugh. ¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen made the same demand of the sailors. Bibles and prayer-books seemed scarce articles, but one of the men volunteered to pursue the quest among the watch below, returning in a minute with the information that 'they ain't none.' ¡¡¡¡The captain shrugged his shoulders. 'Then we'll drop him over without any palavering, unless our clerical-looking castaway has the burial service at sea by heart.' ¡¡¡¡By this time he had swung fully around and was facing me.

Vermeer girl with the pearl earring

¡¡¡¡'You're a preacher, aren't you?' he asked. ¡¡¡¡The hunters- there were six of them- to a man turned and regarded me. I was painfully aware of my likeness to a scarecrow. A laugh went up at my appearance- a laugh that was not lessened or softened by the dead man stretched and grinning on the deck before us; a laugh that was as rough and harsh and frank as the sea itself; that arose out of coarse feelings and blunted sensibilities, from natures that knew neither courtesy nor gentleness. ¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen did not laugh, though his gray eyes lighted with a slight glint of amusement; and in that moment, having stepped forward quite close to him, I received my first impression of the man himself- of the man as apart from his body and from the torrent of blasphemy I had heard. The face, with large features and strong

A Lily Pond

lines, of the square order, yet well filled out, was apparently massive at first sight; but again, as with the body, the massiveness seemed to vanish and a conviction to grow of a tremendous and excessive mental or spiritual strength that lay behind, sleeping, in the deeps of his being. The jaw, the chin, the brow rising to a goodly height and swelling heavily above the eyes- these, while strong in themselves, unusually strong, seemed to speak an immense vigor or virility of spirit that lay behind and beyond and out of sight. There was no sounding such a spirit, no measuring, no determining of metes and bounds, or neatly classifying in some pigeonhole with others of similar type. ¡¡¡¡The eyes- and it was my destiny to know them well- were large and handsome, wide apart, as the true artist's are wide, sheltering under a heavy brow and arched over by thick black eyebrows. The eyes themselves were of that baffling protean gray which is never twice the same; which runs through many shades and colorings

Boulevard des Capucines

like intershot silk in sunshine; which is gray, dark and light, and greenish gray, and sometimes of the clear azure of the deep sea. They were eyes that masked the soul with a thousand guises, and that sometimes opened, at rare moments, and allowed it to rush up as though it were about to fare forth nakedly into the world on some wonderful adventure- eyes that could brood with the hopeless somberness of leaden skies; that could snap and crackle points of fire like those that sparkle from a whirling sword; that could grow chill as an arctic landscape, and yet again, that could warm and soften and be all adance with love-lights, intense and masculine, luring and compelling, which at the same time fascinate and dominate women till they surrender in a gladness of joy and of relief and sacrifice. ¡¡¡¡But to return. I told him that, unhappily for the burial service, I was not a preacher, when he sharply demanded:

Evening Mood painting

'What do you do for a living?' ¡¡¡¡I confess I had never had such a question asked me before, nor had I ever canvassed it. I was quite taken aback, and, before I could find myself, had sillily stammered: 'I am a gentleman.' ¡¡¡¡His lip curled in a swift sneer. ¡¡¡¡'I have worked, I do work,' I cried impetuously, as though he were my judge and I required vindication, and at the same time very much aware of my arrant idiocy in discussing the subject at all. ¡¡¡¡'For your living?' ¡¡¡¡There was something so imperative and masterful about him that I was quite beside myself- 'rattled,' as Furuseth would have termed it, like a quaking child before a stern schoolmaster. ¡¡¡¡'Who feeds you?' was his next question. ¡¡¡¡'I have an income,' I answered stoutly, and could have bitten my tongue the next instant. 'All of which, you will pardon my observing, has nothing whatsoever to do with what I wish to see you about.' ¡¡¡¡But he disregarded my protest.

wall art painting

I remember the scene impelled me to sudden laughter, and in the next instant I realized that I was becoming hysterical myself; for these were women, of my own kind, like my mother and sisters, with the fear of death upon them and unwilling to die. And I remember that the sounds they made reminded me of the squealing of pigs under the knife of the butcher, and I was struck with horror at the vividness of the analogy. These women, capable of the most sublime emotions, of the tenderest sympathies, were open-mouthed and screaming. They wanted to live; they were helpless, like rats in a trap, and they screamed. ¡¡¡¡The horror of it drove me out on deck. I was feeling sick and squeamish, and sat down on a bench. In a hazy way I saw and heard men rushing and shouting as they strove to lower the boats. It was just as I had read descriptions of such scenes in books. The tackles jammed. Nothing worked. One boat lowered away with the

abstract acrylic painting

where it had been abandoned. Nothing was to be seen of the strange steamboat which had caused the disaster, though I heard men saying that she would undoubtedly send boats to our assistance. ¡¡¡¡I descended to the lower deck. The Martinez was sinking fast, for the water was very near. Numbers of the passengers were leaping overboard. Others, in the water, were clamoring to be taken aboard again. No one heeded them. A cry arose that we were sinking. I was seized by the consequent panic, and went over the side in a surge of bodies. How I went over I do not know, though I did know, and instantly, why those in the water were so desirous of getting back on the steamer. The water was cold- so cold that it was painful. The pang, as I plunged into it, was as quick and sharp as that of fire. It bit to the marrow. It was like the grip of death. I gasped with the anguish and shock of it, filling my lungs before the life-preserver popped me to the surface. The taste of the salt was strong in my mouth, and I was strangling with the acrid stuff in my throat and lungs

figurative abstract painting

But it was the cold that was most distressing. I felt that I could survive but a few minutes. People were struggling and floundering in the water about me. I could hear them crying out to one another. And I heard, also, the sound of oars. Evidently the strange steamboat had lowered its boats. As the time went by I marveled that I was still alive. I had no sensation whatever in my lower limbs, while a chilling numbness was wrapping about my heart and creeping into it. Small waves, with spiteful foaming crests, continually broke over me and into my mouth, sending me off into more strangling paroxysms. ¡¡¡¡The noises grew indistinct, though I heard a final and despairing chorus of screams in the distance and knew that the Martinez had gone down. Later,- how much later I have no knowledge,- I came to myself with a start of fear. I was alone, I could hear no calls or cries- only the sound of the waves, made weirdly hollow and reverberant by the fog. A panic in a crowd, which partakes of a sort of community of interest, is not so terrible as a panic when one is by oneself; and such a panic

abstract nude painting

now suffered. Whither was I drifting? The red-faced man had said that the tide was ebbing through the Golden Gate. Was I, then, being carried out to sea? And the life-preserver in which I floated? was it not liable to go to pieces at any moment? I had heard of such things being made of paper and hollow rushes, which quickly became saturated and lost all buoyancy. I could not swim a stroke, and I was alone, floating, apparently, in the midst of a gray primordial vastness. I confess that a madness seized me, that I shrieked aloud as the women had shrieked, and beat the water with my numb hands. ¡¡¡¡How long this lasted I have no conception, for a blankness intervened, of which I remember no more than one remembers of troubled and painful sleep. When I aroused, it was as after centuries of time, and I saw, almost above me and emerging from the fog, the bow of a vessel and three triangular sails, each shrewdly lapping the other and filled with wind. Where the bow cut the water there was a great foaming and gurgling, and I seemed directly in its path. I tried to cry out, but was too exhausted. The bow plunged down, just missing me and sending a swash of water clear over my head. Then the long black side of the vessel began slipping past, so near that I could have touched it with my hands. I tried to reach it, in a mad resolve to claw into the wood with my nails; but my arms were heavy and lifeless. Again I strove to call out, but made no sound.

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The stern of the vessel shot by, dropping, as it did so, into a hollow between the waves; and I caught a glimpse of a man standing at a wheel, and of another man who seemed to be doing little else than smoke a cigar. I saw the smoke issuing from his lips as he slowly turned his head and glanced out over the water in my direction. It was a careless, unpremeditated glance, one of those haphazard things men do when they have no immediate call to do anything in particular, but act because they are alive and must do something. ¡¡¡¡But life and death were in that glance. I could see the vessel being swallowed up in the fog; I saw the back of the man at the wheel, and the head of the other man turning, slowly turning, as his gaze struck the water and casually lifted along it toward me. His face wore an absent expression, as of deep thought, and I became afraid that if his eyes did light upon me he would nevertheless not see me. But his eyes did light upon me, and looked squarely into mine; and he did see me, for he sprang to the wheel, thrusting the other man aside, and whirled it round and round, hand over hand, at the same time shouting orders of some sort. The vessel seemed to go off at a tangent to its former course and to leap almost instantly from view into the fog.

Nov 26, 2007

The Broken Pitcher

contingencies which were not disclosed. But again she did not finish her effusion; he had asked Izz to go with him, and perhaps he did not care for her at all. She put the letter in her box, and wondered if it would ever reach Angel's hands. ¡¡¡¡After this her dally tasks were gone through heavily enough, and brought on the day which was of great import to agriculturists - the day of the Candlemas Fair. It was at this fair that new engagements were entered into for the twelve months following the ensuing Lady-Day, and those of the farming population who thought of changing their places duly attended at the county-town where the fair was held. Nearly all the labourers on Flintcomb-Ash Farm intended flight, and early in the morning there was a general exodus in the direction of the town, which lay at a distance of from ten to a dozen miles over hilly country. Though Tess also meant to leave at the quarter-day she was one of the few who did not go to the fair, having a vaguely-shaped hope that something would happen to render another outdoor engagement unnecessary.

the night watch by rembrandt

It was a peaceful February day, of wonderful softness for the time, and one would almost have thought that winter was over. She had hardly finished her dinner when d'Urberville's figure darkened the window of the cottage wherein she was a lodger, which she had all to herself to-day. ¡¡¡¡Tess jumped up, but her visitor had knocked at the door, and she could hardly in reason run away. D'Urberville's knock, his walk up to the door, had some indescribable quality of difference from his air when she last saw him. They seemed to be acts of which the doer was ashamed. She thought that she would not open the door; but, as there was no sense in that either, she arose, and having lifted the latch stepped back quickly. He came in, saw her, and flung himself down into a chair before speaking.

the polish rider

Tess - I couldn't help it!' he began desperately, as he wiped his heated face, which had also a superimposed flush of excitement. `I felt that I must call at least to ask how you are. I assure you I had not been thinking of you at all till I saw you that Sunday; now I cannot get rid of your image, try how I may! It is hard that a good woman should do harm to a bad man; yet so it is. If you would only pray for me, Tess!' ¡¡¡¡The suppressed discontent of his manner was almost pitiable, and yet Tess did not pity him. ¡¡¡¡`How can I pray for you,' she said, `when I am forbidden to believe that the great Power who moves the world would alter His plans on my account?' ¡¡¡¡`You really think that?' ¡¡¡¡`Yes. I have been cured of the presumption of thinking otherwise.' ¡¡¡¡`Cured? By whom?' ¡¡¡¡`By my husband, if I must tell.'

The Water lily Pond

Ah - your husband - your husband! How strange it seems! I remember you hinted something of the sort the other day. What do you really believe in these matters, Tess?' he asked. `You seem to have no religion - perhaps owing to me.' ¡¡¡¡`But I have. Though I don't believe in anything supernatural.' D'Urberville looked at her with misgiving. ¡¡¡¡`Then do you think that the line I take is all wrong?' ¡¡¡¡`A good deal of it.' ¡¡¡¡`H'm - and yet I've felt so sure about it,' he said uneasily. ¡¡¡¡`I believe in the spirit of the Sermon on the Mount, and so did my dear husband... . But I don't believe------' ¡¡¡¡Here she gave her negations. ¡¡¡¡`The fact is,' said d'Urberville drily, `whatever your dear husband believed you accept, and whatever he rejected you reject, without the least inquiry or reasoning on your own part. That's just like you women. Your mind is enslaved to his.'

Woman with a Parasol

Ah, because he knew everything!' said she, with a triumphant simplicity of faith in Angel Clare that the most perfect man could hardly have deserved, much less her husband. ¡¡¡¡`Yes, but you should not take negative opinions wholesale from another person like that. A pretty fellow he must be to teach you such scepticism!' ¡¡¡¡`He never forced my judgment! He would never argue on the subject with me! But I looked at it in this way; what he believed, after inquiring deep into doctrines, was much more likely to be right than what I might believe, who hadn't looked into doctrines at all.' ¡¡¡¡`What used he to say? He must have said something?' ¡¡¡¡She reflected; and with her acute memory for the letter of Angel Clare's remarks, even when she did not comprehend their spirit, she recalled a merciless polemical syllogism that she had heard him use when, as it occasionally happened, he indulged in a species of thinking aloud with her at his side. In delivering it she gave also Clare's accent and manner with reverential faithfulness. ¡¡¡¡`Say that again,' asked d'Urberville, who had listened with the greatest attention. ¡¡¡¡She repeated the argument, and d'Urberville thoughtfully murmured the words after her.

wall art painting

Tess, he insisted; don't speak so! It came to me like a jolly new idea! And you don't believe me? What don't you believe?' ¡¡¡¡`Your conversion. Your scheme of religion.' ¡¡¡¡`Why?' ¡¡¡¡She dropped her voice. `Because a better man than you does not believe in such.' ¡¡¡¡`What a woman's reason! Who is this better man?, ¡¡¡¡`I cannot tell you.' ¡¡¡¡`Well,' he declared, a resentment beneath his words seeming ready to spring out at a moment's notice, `God forbid that I should say I am a good man - and you know I don't say any such thing. I am new to goodness, truly; but new comers see furthest sometimes.' ¡¡¡¡`Yes,' she replied sadly. `But I cannot believe in your conversion to a new spirit. Such flashes as you feel, Alec, I fear don't last!' ¡¡¡¡Thus speaking she turned from the stile over which she had been leaning, and faced him; whereupon his eyes, falling casually upon the familiar countenance and form, remained contemplating her. The inferior man was quiet in him now; but it was surely not extracted, nor even entirely subdued.

abstract acrylic painting

¡¡¡¡`Don't look at me like that!' he said abruptly. ¡¡¡¡Tess, who had been quite unconscious of her action and mien, instantly withdrew the large dark gaze of her eyes, stammering with a flush, `I beg your pardon!' And there was revived in her the wretched sentiment which had often come to her before, that in inhabiting the fleshly tabernacle with which nature had endowed her she was somehow doing wrong. ¡¡¡¡`No, no! Don't beg my pardon. But since you wear a veil to hide your good looks, why don't you keep it down?' ¡¡¡¡She pulled down the veil, saying hastily, `It was mostly to keep off the wind.' ¡¡¡¡`It may seem harsh of me to dictate like this,' he went on; `but it is better that I should not look too often on you. It might be dangerous.' ¡¡¡¡`Ssh!' said Tess. ¡¡¡¡`Well, women's faces have had too much power over me already for me not to fear them! An evangelist has nothing to do with such as they; and it reminds me of the old times that I would forget!' ¡¡¡¡After this their conversation dwindled to a casual remark now and then as they rambled onward, Tess inwardly wondering how far he was going with her, and not

figurative abstract painting

liking to send him back by positive mandate. Frequently when they came to a gate or stile they found painted thereon in red or blue letters some text of Scripture, and she asked him if he knew who had been at the pains to blazon these announcements. He told her that the man was employed by himself and others who were working with him in that district, to paint these reminders that no means might be left untried which might move the hearts of a wicked generation. ¡¡¡¡At length the road touched the spot called `Cross-in-Hand'. Of all spots on the bleached and desolate upland this was the most forlorn. It was so far removed from the charm which is sought in landscape by artists and view-lovers as to reach a new kind of beauty, a negative beauty of tragic tone. The place took its name from a stone pillar which stood there, a strange rude monolith, from a stratum unknown in any local quarry, on which was roughly carved a human hand. Differing accounts were given of its history and purport. Some authorities stated that a devotional cross had once formed the complete erection thereon, of which the present relic was but the stump; others that the stone as it stood was entire, and that it had been fixed there to mark a boundary or place of meeting. Anyhow, whatever

abstract nude painting

relic, there was and is something sinister, or solemn, according to mood, in the scene amid which it stands; something tending to impress the most phlegmatic passer-by. ¡¡¡¡`I think I must leave you now,' he remarked, as they drew near to this spot. `I have to preach at Abbot's-Cernel at six this evening, and my way lies across to the right from here. And you upset me somewhat too, Tessy - I cannot, will not, say why. I must go away and get strength... . How is it that you speak so fluently now? Who has taught you such good English?' ¡¡¡¡`I have learnt things in my troubles,' she said evasively. ¡¡¡¡`What troubles have you had?' ¡¡¡¡She told him of the first one - the only one that related to him. ¡¡¡¡D'Urberville was struck mute. `I knew nothing of this till now!' he next murmured. `Why didn't you write to me when you felt your trouble coming on?' ¡¡¡¡She did not reply; and he broke the silence by adding: `Well - you will see me again.' ¡¡¡¡`No,' she answered. `Do not again come near me!'

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I will think. But before we part come here.' He stepped up to the pillar. `This was once a Holy Cross. Relics are not in my creed; but I fear you at moments - far more than you need fear me at present; and to lessen my fear, put your hand upon that stone hand, and swear that you will never tempt me - by your charms or ways.' ¡¡¡¡`Good God - how can you ask what is so unnecessary! All that is furthest from my thought!' ¡¡¡¡`Yes - but swear it.' ¡¡¡¡Tess, half frightened, gave way to his importunity; placed her hand upon the stone and swore. ¡¡¡¡`I am sorry you are not a believer,' he continued; `that some unbeliever should have got hold of you and unsettled your mind. But no more now. At home at least I can pray for you; and I will; and who knows what may not happen? I'm off. Good-bye!' ¡¡¡¡He turned to a hunting-gate in the hedge, and without letting his eyes again rest upon her leapt over, and struck out across the down in the direction of Abbot's

Nov 25, 2007

The British Are Coming

A few days, accordingly, were all that she allowed herself here, at the end of which time she received a short note from Clare, informing her that he had gone to the North of England to look at a farm. In her craving for the lustre of her true position as his wife, and to hide from her parents the vast extent of the division between them, she made use of this letter as her reason for again departing, leaving them under the impression that she was setting out to join him. Still further to screen her husband from any imputation of unkindness to her, she took twenty-five of the fifty pounds Clare had given her, and handed the sum over to her mother, as if the wife of a man like Angel Clare could well afford it, saying that it was a slight return for the trouble and humiliation she had brought upon them in years past. With this assertion of her dignity she bade them farewell; and after that there were lively doings in the Durbeyfield household for some time on the strength of Tess's bounty,

The Lady of Shalott

eeks after the marriage that Clare found himself descending the hill which led to the well-known parsonage of his father. With his downward course the tower of the church rose into the evening sky in a manner of inquiry as to why he had come; and no living person in the twilighted town seemed to notice him, still less expect him. He was arriving like a ghost, and the sound of his own footsteps was almost an encumbrance to be got rid of. ¡¡¡¡The picture of life had changed for him. Before this time he had known it but speculatively; now he thought he knew it as a practical man; though perhaps he did not, even yet. Nevertheless humanity stood before him no longer in the pensive sweetness of Italian art, but in the staring and ghastly attitudes of a Wiertz Museum, and with the leer of a study by Van Beers.

The Painter's Honeymoon

¡¡¡¡His conduct during these first weeks had been desultory beyond description. After mechanically attempting to pursue his agricultural plans as though nothing unusual had happened, in the manner recommended by the great and wise men of all ages, he concluded that very few of those great and wise men had ever gone so far outside themselves as to test the feasibility of their counsel. `This is the chief thing: be not perturbed,' said the Pagan moralist. That was just Clare's own opinion. But he was perturbed. `Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid,' sad the Nazarene. Clare chimed in cordially; but his heart was troubled all the same. How he would have liked to confront those two great thinkers, and earnestly appeal to them as fellow-man to fellow-men, and ask them to tell him their method! ¡¡¡¡His mood transmuted itself into a dogged indifference till at length he fancied he was looking on his own existence with the passive interest of an outsider.

The Virgin and Child with St Anne

He was embittered by the conviction that all this desolation had been brought about by the accident of her being a d'Urberville. When he found that Tess came of that exhausted ancient line, and was not of the new tribes from below, as he had fondly dreamed, why had he not stoically abandoned her, in fidelity to his principles? This was what he had got by apostasy, and his punishment was deserved. ¡¡¡¡Then he became weary and anxious, and his anxiety increased. He wondered if he had treated her unfairly. He ate without knowing that he ate, and drank without tasting. As the hours dropped past, as the motive of each act in the long series of bygone days presented itself to his view, he perceived how intimately the notion of having Tess as a dear possession was mixed up with all his schemes and words and ways. In going hither and thither he observed in the outskirts of a small town a red-and-blue placard setting forth the great advantages of the Empire of Brazil as a field

virgin of the rocks

for the emigrating agriculturist. Land was offered there on exceptionally advantageous terms. Brazil somewhat attracted him as a new idea. Tess could eventually loin him there, and perhaps in that country of contrasting scenes and notions and habits the conventions would not be so operative which made life with her seem impracticable to him here. In brief he was strongly inclined to try Brazil, especially as the season for going thither was just at hand. ¡¡¡¡With this view he was returning to Emminster to disclose his plan to his parents, and to make the best explanation he could make of arriving without Tess, short of revealing what had actually separated them. As he reached the door the new moon shone upon his face, just as the old one had done in the small hours of that morning when he had carried his wife in his arms across the river to the graveyard of the monks; but his face was thinner now.

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Tess, however, stepping out of her stone confine, shook him slightly, but was unable to arouse him without being violent. It was indispensable to do something, for she was beginning to shiver, the sheet being but a poor protection. Her excitement had in a measure kept her warm during the few minutes' adventure; but that beatific interval was over. ¡¡¡¡It suddenly occurred to her to try persuasion; and accordingly she whispered in his ear, with as much firmness and decision as she could summon-- ¡¡¡¡`Let us walk on, darling,' at the same time taking him suggestively by the arm. To her relief, he unresistingly acquiesced; her words had apparently thrown him back into his dream, which thenceforward seemed to enter on a new phase, wherein he fancied she had risen as a spirit, and was leading him to Heaven. Thus she

abstract acrylic painting

stones hurt her, and chilled her to the bone; but Clare was in his woollen stockings, and appeared to feel no discomfort. ¡¡¡¡There was no further difficulty. She induced him to lie down on his own sofa bed, and covered him up warmly, lighting a temporary fire of wood, to dry any dampness out of him. The noise of these attentions she thought might awaken him, and secretly wished that they might. But the exhaustion of his mind and body was such that he remained undisturbed. ¡¡¡¡As soon as they met the next morning Tess divined that Angel knew little or nothing of how far she had been concerned in the night's excursion, though, as regarded himself he may have been aware that he had not lain still. In truth, he had awakened that morning from a sleep deep as annihilation; and during those first few moments in which the brain, like a Samson shaking himself, is trying its strength, he had some dim notion of an unusual nocturnal proceeding. But the realities of his situation soon displaced conjecture on the other subject.

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¡¡¡¡He waited in expectancy to discern some mental pointing; he knew that if any intention of his, concluded over-night, did not vanish in the light of morning, it stood on a basis approximating to one of pure reason, even if initiated by impulse of feeling; that it was so far, therefore, to be trusted. He thus beheld in the pale morning light the resolve to separate from her; not as a hot and indignant instinct, but denuded of the passionateness which had made it scorch and burn; standing in its bones; nothing but a skeleton, but none the less there. Clare no longer hesitated. ¡¡¡¡At breakfast, and while they were packing the few remaining articles, he showed his weariness from the night's efforts so unmistakably that Tess was on the point of revealing all that had happened; but the reflection that it would anger him, grieve him, stultify him, to know that he had instinctively manifested a fondness for her of which his common-sense did not approve; that his inclination had compromised his dignity when reason slept, again deterred her. It was too much like laughing at a man when sober for his erratic deeds during intoxication.

abstract nude painting

¡¡¡¡It just crossed her mind, too, that he might have a faint recollection of his tender vagary, and was disinclined to allude to it from a conviction that she would take amatory advantage of the opportunity it gave her of appealing to him anew not to go. ¡¡¡¡He had ordered by letter a vehicle from the nearest town, and soon after breakfast it arrived. She saw in it the beginning of the end - the temporary end, at least, for the revelation of his tenderness by the incident of the night raised dreams of a possible future with him. The luggage was put on the top, and the man drove them off, the miller and the old waiting-woman expressing some surprise at their precipitate departure, which Clare attributed to his discovery that the mill-work was not of the modern kind which he wished to investigate, a statement that was true so far as it went. Beyond this there was nothing in the manner of their leaving to suggest a fiasco, or that they were not going together to visit friends.

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¡¡¡¡Their route lay near the dairy from which they had started with such solemn joy in each other a few days back, and, as Clare wished to wind up his business with Mr Crick, Tess could hardly avoid paying Mrs Crick a call at the same time, unless she would excite suspicion of their unhappy state. ¡¡¡¡To make the call as unobtrusive as possible they left the carriage by the wicket leading down from the high road to the dairy-house, and descended the track on foot, side by side. The withy-bed had been cut, and they could see over the stumps the spot to which Clare had followed her when he pressed her to be his wife; to the left the enclosure in which she had been fascinated by his harp; and far away behind the cowstalls the mead which had been the scene of their first embrace. The gold of the summer picture was now gray, the colours mean, the rich soil mud, and the river cold.

Nov 23, 2007

The British Are Coming

But to know that things were in train was an immense relief to Tess notwithstanding, who had well-nigh feared that somebody would stand up and forbid the banns on the ground of her history. How events were favouring her! ¡¡¡¡`I don't quite feel easy,' she said to herself. `All this good fortune may be scourged out of me afterwards by a lot of ill. That's how Heaven mostly does. I wish I could have had common banns!' ¡¡¡¡But everything went smoothly. She wondered whether he would like her to be married in her present best white frock, or if she ought to buy a new one. The question was set at rest by his forethought, disclosed by the arrival of some large packages addressed to her. Inside them she found a whole stock of clothing, from bonnet to shoes, including a perfect morning costume, such as would well suit the simple wedding they planned. He entered the house shortly after the arrival of the packages, and heard her upstairs undoing them.

The Lady of Shalott

A minute later she came down with a flush on her face and tears in her eyes. ¡¡¡¡`How thoughtful you've been!' she murmured, her cheek upon his shoulder. `Even to the gloves and handkerchief! My own love - how good, how kind!' ¡¡¡¡`No, no, Tess; just an order to a tradeswoman in London - nothing more.' ¡¡¡¡And to divert her from thinking too highly of him he told her to go upstairs, and take her time, and see if it all fitted; and, if not, to get the village sempstress to make a few alterations. ¡¡¡¡She did return upstairs, and put on the gown. Alone, she stood for a moment before the glass looking at the effect of her silk attire; and then there came into her head her mother's ballad of the mystic robe--
That never would become that wife That had once done amiss,which Mrs Durbeyfield had used to sing to her as a child, so blithely and so archly, her foot on the cradle, which she rocked to the tune. Suppose this robe should betray her by changing colour, as her robe had betrayed Queen Guénever. Since she had been at the dairy she had not once thought of the lines till now.

The Painter's Honeymoon

Angel felt that he would like to spend a day with her before the wedding, somewhere away from the dairy, as a last jaunt in her company while they were yet mere lover and mistress; a romantic day, in circumstances that would never be repeated; with that other and greater day beaming close ahead of them. During the preceding week, therefore, he suggested making a few purchases in the nearest town, and they started together. ¡¡¡¡Clare's life at the dairy had been that of a recluse in respect to the world of his own class. For months he had never gone near a town, and, requiring no vehicle, had never kept one, hiring the dairyman's cob or gig if he rode or drove. They went in the gig that day. ¡¡¡¡And then for the first time in their lives they shopped as partners in one concern. It was Christmas Eve, with its loads of holly and mistletoe, and the town was very full of strangers who had come in from all parts of the country on account of the day. Tess paid the penalty of walking about with happiness superadded to beauty on her countenance by being much stared at as she moved amid them on his arm.

The Virgin and Child with St Anne

¡¡¡¡In the evening they returned to the inn at which they had put up, and Tess waited in the entry while Angel went to see the horse and gig brought to the door. The general sitting-room was full of guests, who were continually going in and out. As the door opened and shut each time for the passage of these, the light within the parlour fell full upon Tess's face. Two men came out and passed by her among the rest. One of them had stared her up and down in surprise, and she fancied be was a Trantridge man, though that village lay so many miles off that Trantridge folk were rarities here. ¡¡¡¡`A comely maid that,' said the other. ¡¡¡¡`True, comely enough. But unless I make a great mistake------' And he negatived the remainder of the definition forthwith. Clare had just returned from the stable-yard, and, confronting the man on the threshold, heard the words, and saw the shrinking of Tess. The insult to her stung him to the quick, and before he had considered anything at all he struck the man on the chin with the full force of his fist, sending him staggering backwards into the passage.

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The man recovered himself, and seemed inclined to come on, and Clare, stepping outside the door, put himself in a posture of defence. But his opponent began to think better of the matter. He looked anew at Tess as he passed her, and said to Clare-- ¡¡¡¡`I beg pardon, sir; 'twas a complete mistake. I thought she was another woman, forty miles from here.' ¡¡¡¡Clare, feeling then that he had been too hasty, and that he was, moreover, to blame for leaving her standing in an inn-passage, did what he usually did in such cases, gave the man five shillings to plaster the blow; and thus they parted, bidding each other a pacific good-night. As soon as Clare had taken the reins from the ostler, and the young couple had driven off, the two men went in the other direction. ¡¡¡¡`And was it a mistake?' said the second one. ¡¡¡¡`Not a bit of it. But I didn't want to hurt the gentleman's feelings - not I.' ¡¡¡¡In the meantime the lovers were driving onward. ¡¡¡¡`Could we put off our wedding till a little later?' Tess asked in a dry dull voice. `I mean if we wished?' ¡¡¡¡`No, my love. Calm yourself. Do you mean that the fellow may have time to summon me for assault?' he asked good-humouredly. ¡¡¡¡`No - I only meant - if it should have to be put off.'

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She struggled with the sob in her throat. How often had that string of excellences made her young heart ache in church of late years, and how strange that he should have cited them now. ¡¡¡¡`Why didn't you stay and love me when I - was sixteen; living with my little sisters and brothers, and you danced on the green? O, why didn't you, why didn't you!' she said, impetuously clasping her hands. ¡¡¡¡Angel began to comfort and reassure her, thinking to himself, truly enough, what a creature of moods she was, and how careful he would have to be of her when she depended for her happiness entirely on him. ¡¡¡¡`Ah - why didn't I stay!'he said. `That is just what I feel. If I had only known! But you must not be so bitter in your regret - why should you be?' ¡¡¡¡With the woman's instinct to hide she diverted hastily-- ¡¡¡¡`I should have had four years more of your heart than I can ever have now. Then I should not have wasted my time as I have done - I should have had so much longer happiness!'

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It was no mature woman with a long dark vista of intrigue behind her who was tormented thus; but a girl of simple life, not yet one-and-twenty, who had been caught during her days of immaturity like a bird in a springe. To calm herself the more completely she rose from her little stool and left the room, overturning the stool with her skirts as she went. ¡¡¡¡He sat on by the cheerful firelight thrown from a bundle of green ash-sticks laid across the dogs; the sticks snapped pleasantly, and hissed out bubbles of sap from their ends. When she came back she was herself again. ¡¡¡¡`Do you not think you are just a wee bit capricious, fitful, Tess?' he said, good humouredly, as he spread a cushion for her on the stool, and seated himself in the settle beside her. `I wanted to ask you something, and just then you ran away.' ¡¡¡¡`Yes, perhaps I am capricious,' she murmured. She suddenly approached him, and put a hand upon each of his arms. `No, Angel, I am not really so - by Nature, I mean!' The more particularly to assure him that she was not, she placed herself close to him in the settle, and allowed her head to find a resting-place against Clare's shoulder. `What did you want to ask me - I am sure I will answer it,' she continued humbly.

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Well, you love me, and have agreed to marry me, and hence there follows a thirdly, "When shall the day be?" ¡¡¡¡`I like living like this.' ¡¡¡¡`But I must think of starting in business on my own hook with the new year, or a little later. And before I get involved in the multifarious details of my new position, I should like to have secured my partner.' ¡¡¡¡`But,' she timidly answered, `to talk quite practically, wouldn't it be best not to marry till after all that? - Though I can't bear the thought o' your going away and leaving me here!' ¡¡¡¡`Of course you cannot - and it is not best in this case. I want you to help me in many ways in making my start. When shall it be? Why not a fortnight from now?' ¡¡¡¡`No,' she said, becoming grave; `I have so many things to think of first.' ¡¡¡¡`But--' ¡¡¡¡He drew her gently nearer to him. The reality of marriage was startling when it loomed so near. Before discussion of the question had proceeded further there walked round the corner of the settle into the full firelight of the apartment Mr Dairyman Crick, Mrs Crick, and two of the milkmaids.

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Tess sprang like an elastic ball from his side to her feet, while her face flushed and her eyes shone in the firelight. ¡¡¡¡`I knew how it would be if I sat so close to him!' she cried, with vexation. `I said to myself, they are sure to come and catch us! But I wasn't really sitting on his knee, though it might ha' seemed as if I was almost!' ¡¡¡¡`Well - if so be you hadn't told us, I am sure we shouldn't ha' noticed that ye had been sitting anywhere at all in this light,' replied the dairyman. He continued to his wife, with the stolid mien of a man who understood nothing of the emotions relating to matrimony--'Now, Christianer, that shows that folks should never fancy other folks be supposing things when they bain't. O no, I should never ha' thought a word of where she was a sitting to, if she hadn't told me - not I.' ¡¡¡¡`We are going to be married soon,' said Clare, with improvised phlegm. ¡¡¡¡`Ah - and be ye! Well, I am truly glad to hear it, sir. I've thought you mid do; such a thing for some time. She's too good for a dairymaid - I said so the very first day I zid her - and a prize for any man; and what's more, a wonderful woman for a gentleman-farmer's wife; he won't be at the mercy of his baily wi' her at his side.'

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Somehow Tess disappeared. She had been even more struck with the look of the girls who followed Crick than abashed by Crick's blunt praise. ¡¡¡¡After supper, when she reached her bedroom, they were all present. A light was burning, and each damsel was sitting up whitely in her bed, awaiting Tess, the whole like a row of avenging ghosts. ¡¡¡¡But she saw in a few moments that there was no malice in their mood. They could scarcely feel as a loss what they had never expected to have. Their condition was objective, contemplative. ¡¡¡¡He's going to marry her!' murmured Retty, never taking eyes off Tess. `How her face do show it!' ¡¡¡¡`You be going to marry him?' asked Marian. ¡¡¡¡`Yes,' said Tess. ¡¡¡¡`When?' ¡¡¡¡`Some day.' ¡¡¡¡They thought that this was evasiveness only. ¡¡¡¡`Yes - going to marry him - a gentleman!' repeated Izz Huett.

Nov 22, 2007

the Night Watch

when the other girls came in. She saw them undressing in the orange light of the vanished sun, which flushed their forms with its colour; she dozed again, but she was reawakened by their voices, and quietly turned her eyes towards them. ¡¡¡¡Neither of her three chamber-companions had got into bed. They were standing in a group, in their nightgowns, barefooted, at the window, the last red rays of the west still warming their faces and necks, and the walls around them. All were watching somebody in the garden with deep interest, their three faces close together: a jovial and round one, a pale one with dark hair and a fair one whose tresses were auburn. ¡¡¡¡`Don't push! You can see as well as I,' said Retty, the auburn-haired and youngest girl, without removing her eyes from the window. ¡¡¡¡`'Tis no use for you to be in love with him any more than me, Retty Priddle,' said jolly-faced Marian, the eldest, silly. `His thoughts be of other cheeks than thine!'

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Retty Priddle still looked, and the others looked again. ¡¡¡¡`There he is again!' cried Izz Huett, the pale girl with dark damp hair and keenly cut lips. ¡¡¡¡`You needn't say anything, Izz,' answered Retty. `For I zid you kissing his shade.' ¡¡¡¡`What did you see her doing?' asked Marian. ¡¡¡¡`Why - he was standing over the whey-tub to let off the whey, and the shade of his face came upon the wall behind, close to Izz, who was standing there filling a vat. She put her mouth against the wall and kissed the shade of his mouth; I zid her, though he didn't.' ¡¡¡¡`O Izz Huett!' said Marian. ¡¡¡¡A rosy spot came into the middle of Izz Huett's cheek. ¡¡¡¡`Well, there was no harm in it,' she declared, with attempted coolness. `And if I be in love wi'en, so is Retty, too; and so be you, Marian, come to that.' ¡¡¡¡Marian's full face could not blush past its chronic pinkness. ¡¡¡¡`I!' she said. `What a tale! Ah, there he is again! Dear eyes - dear face - dear Mr Clare!'

The Water lily Pond

¡¡¡¡`There - you've owned it!' ¡¡¡¡`So have you - so have we all,' said Marian, with the dry frankness of complete indifference to opinion. `It is silly to pretend otherwise amongst ourselves, though we need not own it to other folks. I would just marry 'n to-morrow!' ¡¡¡¡`So would I - and more,' murmured Izz Huett. ¡¡¡¡`And I too,' whispered the more timid Retty. ¡¡¡¡The listener grew warm. ¡¡¡¡`We can't all marry him,' said Izz. ¡¡¡¡`We shan't, either of us; which is worse still,' said the eldest. `There he is again!' ¡¡¡¡They all three blew him a silent kiss. ¡¡¡¡`Why?' asked Retty quickly. ¡¡¡¡`Because he likes Tess Durbeyfield best,' said Marian, lowering her voice. `I have watched him every day, and have found it out.' ¡¡¡¡There was a reflective silence. ¡¡¡¡`But she don't care anything for 'n?' at length breathed Retty. ¡¡¡¡`Well - I sometimes think that too.'

Woman with a Parasol

But how silly all this is!' said Izz Huett impatiently. `Of course he won't marry any one of us, or Tess either - a gentleman's son, who's going to be a great landowner and farmer abroad! More likely to ask us to come wi'en as farm-hands at so much a year!' ¡¡¡¡One sighed, and another sighed, and Marian's plump figure sighed biggest of all. Somebody in bed hard by sighed too. Tears came into the eyes of Retty Priddle, the pretty red-haired youngest - the last bud of the Paridelles, so important in the county annals. They watched silently a little longer, their three faces still close together as before, and the triple hues of their hair mingling. But the unconscious Mr Clare had gone indoors, and they saw him no more; and, the shades beginning to deepen, they crept into their beds. In a few minutes they heard him ascend the ladder to his own room. Marian was soon snoring, but Izz did not drop into forgetfulness for a long time. Retty Priddle cried herself to sleep.

American Day Dream

The deeper-passioned Tess was very far from sleeping even then. This conversation was another of the bitter pills she had been obliged to swallow that day. Scarce the least feeling of jealousy arose in her breast. For that matter she knew herself to have the preference. Being more finely formed, better educated, and, though the youngest except Retty, more woman than either, she perceived that only the slightest ordinary care was necessary for holding her own in Angel Clare's heart against these her candid friends. But the grave question was, ought she to do this? There was, to be sure, hardly a ghost of a chance for either of them, in a serious sense; but there was, or had been, a chance of one or the other inspiring him with a passing fancy for her, and enjoying the pleasure of his attentions while he stayed here. Such unequal attachments had led to marriage; and she had heard from Mrs Crick that Mr Clare had one day asked, in a laughing way, what would be the

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He observed her dejection one day, when he had casually mentioned something to her about pastoral life in ancient Greece. She was gathering the buds called `lords and ladies' from the bank while he spoke. ¡¡¡¡`Why do you look so woebegone all of a sudden?' he asked. ¡¡¡¡`Oh, 'tis only - about my own self,' she said, with a frail laugh of sadness, fitfully beginning to peel `a lady' meanwhile. `Just a sense of what might have been with me! My life looks as if it had been wasted for want of chances! When I see what you know, what you have read, and seen, and thought, I feel what a nothing I am! I'm like the poor Queen of Sheba who lived in the Bible. There is no more spirit in me.' ¡¡¡¡`Bless my soul, don't go troubling about that! Why,' he said with some enthusiasm, `I should be only too glad, my dear Tess, to help you to anything in the way of history, or any line of reading you would like to take up--'

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It is a lady again,' interrupted she, holding out the bud she had peeled. ¡¡¡¡`What?' ¡¡¡¡`I meant that there are always more ladies than lords when you come to peel them.' ¡¡¡¡`Never mind about the lords and ladies. Would you like to take up any course of study - history, for example?' ¡¡¡¡`Sometimes I feel I don't want to know anything more about it than I know already.' ¡¡¡¡`Why not?' ¡¡¡¡`Because what's the use of learning that I am one of a long row only - finding out that there is set down in some old book somebody just like me, and to know that I shall only act her part; making me sad, that's all. The best is not to remember that your nature and your past doings have been just like thousands' and thousands', and that your coming life and doings `I'll be like thousands' and thousands'.' ¡¡¡¡`What, really, then, you don't want to learn anything?'

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How stupid he must think her! In an access of hunger for his good opinion she bethought herself of what she had latterly endeavoured to forget, so unpleasant had been its issues - the identity of her family with that of the knightly d'Urbervilles. Barren attribute as it was, disastrous as its discovery had been in many ways to her, perhaps Mr Clare, as a gentleman and a student of history, would respect her sufficiently to forget her childish conduct with the lords and ladies if he knew that those Purbeck-marble and alabaster people in Kingsbere Church really represented her own lineal forefathers; that she was no spurious d'Urberville, compounded of money and ambition like those at Trantridge, but true d'Urberville to the bone. ¡¡¡¡But, before venturing to make the revelation, dubious Tess indirectly sounded the dairyman as to its possible effect upon Mr Clare, by asking the former if Mr Clare had any great respect for old county families when they had lost all their money and land.

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¡¡¡¡`Mr Clare,' said the dairyman emphatically, `is one of the most rebellest rozums you ever knowed - not a bit like the rest of his family; and if there's one thing that he do hate more than another 'tis the notion of what's called a' old family. He says that it stands to reason that old families have done their spurt of work in past days, and can't have anything left in `em now. There's the Billetts and the Drenkhards and the Greys and the St Quintins and the Hardys and the Goulds, who used to own the lands for miles down this valley; you could buy 'em all up now for an old song a'most. Why, our little Retty Priddle here, you know, is one of the Paridelles - the old family that used to own lots o' the lands out by King's-Hintock now owned by the Earl o' Wessex, afore even he or his was heard of. Well, Mr Clare found this out, and spoke quite scornful to the poor girl for days. `Ah!' he says to her, `you'll never make a good dairymaid! All your skill was used up ages ago in Palestine, and you

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¡¡¡¡`I shouldn't mind learning why - why the sun do shine on the just and the unjust alike,' she answered, with a slight quaver in her voice. `But that's what books will not tell me.' ¡¡¡¡`Tess, fie for such bitterness!' Of course he spoke with a conventional sense of duty only, for that sort of wondering had not been unknown to himself in bygone days. And as he looked at the unpractised mouth and lips, he thought that such a daughter of the soil could only have caught up the sentiment by rote. She went on peeling the lords and ladies till Clare, regarding for a moment the wave-like curl of her lashes as they drooped with her bent gaze on her soft cheek, lingeringly went away. When he was gone she stood awhile, thoughtfully peeling the last bud; and then, awakening from her reverie, flung it and all the crowd of floral nobility impatiently on the ground, in an ebullition of displeasure with herself for her niaiseries, and with a quickening warmth in her heart of hearts.

Nov 21, 2007

Madonna Litta

¡¡¡¡Tess Durbeyfield had been one of the last to suspend her labours. She sat down at the end of the shock, her face turned somewhat away from her companions. When she had deposited herself a man in a rabbit-skin cap and with a red handkerchief tucked into his belt, held the cup of ale over the top of the shock for her to drink. But she did not accept his offer. As soon as her lunch was spread she called up the big girl her sister, and took the baby of her, who, glad to be relieved of the burden, went away to the next shock and joined the other children playing there. Tess, with a curiously stealthy yet courageous movement, and with a still rising colour, unfastened her frock and began suckling the child. The men who sat nearest considerately turned their faces towards the other end of the field, some of them beginning to smoke; one, with absent-minded fondness, regretfully stroking the jar that would no longer yield a stream. All the women but Tess fell into animated talk, and adjusted the disarranged knots of their hair

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When the infant had taken its fill the young mother sat it upright in her lap, and looking into the far distance dandled it with a gloomy indifference that was almost dislike; then all of a sudden she fell to violently kissing it some dozens of times, as if she could never leave off, the child crying at the vehemence of an onset which strangely combined passionateness with contempt. ¡¡¡¡`She's fond of that there child, though she mid pretend to hate en, and say she wishes the baby and her too were in the church-yard,' observed the woman in the red petticoat. ¡¡¡¡`She'll soon leave off saying that,' replied the one in buff. `Lord, 'tis wonderful what a body can get used to o' that sort in time!' ¡¡¡¡`A little more than persuading had to do wi' the coming o't, I reckon. There were they that heard a sobbing one night last year in The Chase; and it mid ha' gone hard wi' a certain party if folks had come along.'

precious time

Well, a little more or a little less, 'twas a thousand pities that it should have happened to she, of all others. But 'tis always the comeliest! The plain ones be as safe as churches - hey, Jenny?' The speaker turned to one of the group who certainly was not ill-defined as plain. ¡¡¡¡It was a thousand pities, indeed; it was impossible for even an enemy to feel otherwise on looking at Tess as she sat there, with her flower-like mouth and large tender eyes, neither black nor blue nor gray nor violet; rather all those shades together, and a hundred others, which could be seen if one looked into their irises - shade behind shade - tint beyond tint - around pupils that had no bottom; an almost standard woman, but for the slight incautiousness of character inherited from her race.

Rembrandt Biblical Scene

A resolution which had surprised herself had brought her into the fields this week for the first time during many months. After wearing and wasting her palpitating heart with every engine of regret that lonely inexperience could devise, common-sense had illumined her. She felt that she would do well to be useful again - to taste anew sweet independence at any price. The past was past; whatever it had been it was no more at hand. Whatever its consequences, time would close over them; they would all in a few years be as if they had never been, and she herself grassed down and forgotten. Meanwhile the trees were just as green as before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened because of her grief, nor sickened because of her pain.

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She might have seen that what had bowed her head so profoundly - the thought of the world's concern at her situation was founded on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself. To all humankind besides Tess was only a passing thought. Even to friends she was no more than a frequently passing thought. If she made herself miserable the livelong night and day it was only this much to them--'Ah, she makes herself unhappy.' If she tried to be cheerful, to dismiss all care, to take pleasure in the daylight, the flowers, the baby, she could only be this idea to them - `Ah, she bears it very well.' Moreover, alone in a desert island would she have been wretched at what had happened to her? Not greatly. If she could have been but just created to discover herself as a spouseless mother, with no experience of life except as the parent of a nameless child, would the position have caused her to despair? No, she would have taken it calmly, and found pleasures therein. Most of the misery had been generated by her conventional aspect, and not by her innate sensations.

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¡¡¡¡Having finished his text he picked up her basket, and she mechanically resumed her walk beside him. ¡¡¡¡`Do you believe what you paint?' she asked in low tones. ¡¡¡¡`Believe that tex? Do I believe in my own existence!' ¡¡¡¡`But,' said she tremulously, `suppose your sin was not of your seeking?' ¡¡¡¡He shook his head. ¡¡¡¡`I cannot split hairs on that burning query,' he said. `I have walked hundreds of miles this past summer, painting these texes on every wall, gate, and stile in the length and breadth of this district. I leave their application to the hearts of the people who read 'em.' think they are horrible,' said Tess. `Crushing! killing!' ¡¡¡¡`That's what they are meant to be!' he replied in a trade voice. `But you should read my hottest ones - them I kips for slums and seaports. They'd make ye wriggle! Not but what this is a very good tex for rural districts... Ah - there's a nice bit of blank wall up by that barn standing to waste. I must put one there - one that it will be good for dangerous young females like yerself to heed. Will ye wait, missy?'

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No,' said she; and taking her basket Tess trudged on. A little way forward she turned her head. The old gray wall began to advertise a similar fiery lettering to the first, with a strange and unwonted mien, as if distressed at duties it had never before been called upon to perform. It was with a sudden flush that she read and realized what was to be the inscription he was now half-way through--
THOU, SHALT, NOT, COMMIT -Her cheerful friend saw her looking, stopped his brush, and shouted-- ¡¡¡¡`If you want to ask for edification on these things of moment, there's a very earnest good man going to preach a charity-sermon to-day in the parish you are going to - Mr Clare of Emminster. I'm not of his persuasion now, but he's a good man, and he'll expound as well as any parson I know. 'Twas he began the work in me.'

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But Tess did not answer; she throbbingly resumed her walk, her eyes fixed on the ground. `Pooh - I don't believe God said such things!' she murmured contemptuously when her flush had died away. ¡¡¡¡A plume of smoke soared up suddenly from her father's chimney, the sight of which made her heart ache. The aspect of the interior, when she reached it, made her heart ache more. Her mother, who had just come down stairs, turned to greet her from the fireplace, where she was kindling barked-oak twigs under the breakfast kettle. The young children were still above, as was also her father, it being Sunday morning, when he felt justified in lying an additional half-hour. ¡¡¡¡`Well! - my dear Tess!' exclaimed her surprised mother, jumping up and kissing the girl. `How be ye? I didn't see you till you was in upon me! Have you come home to be married?' ¡¡¡¡`No, I have not come for that, mother.'

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Then for a holiday?' ¡¡¡¡`Yes - for a holiday; for a long holiday,' said Tess. ¡¡¡¡`What, isn't your cousin going to do the handsome thing?' ¡¡¡¡`He's not my cousin and he's not going to marry me.' ¡¡¡¡Her mother eyed her narrowly. ¡¡¡¡`Come, you have not told me all,' she said. ¡¡¡¡Then Tess went up to her mother, put her face upon Joan's neck, and told. ¡¡¡¡`And yet th'st not got him to marry 'ee!' reiterated her mother. `Any woman would have done it but you, after that!' ¡¡¡¡`Perhaps any woman would except me.' ¡¡¡¡`It would have been something like a story to come back with, if you had!' continued Mrs Durbeyfield, ready to burst into tears of vexation. `After all the talk about you and him which has reached us here, who would have expected it to end like this! Why didn't ye think of doing some good for your family instead o' thinking only of yourself? See how I've got to teave and slave, and your poor weak father with his heart clogged like a dripping-pan. I did hope for something to come out o'this! To see what a pretty pair you and he made that day when you drove away together four months ago! See what he has given us - all, as we thought, because we were his kin. But if he's not, it must have been done because of his love for 'ee. And yet you've not got him to marry!'

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Get Alec d'Urberville in the mind to marry her! He marry her! On matrimony he had never once said a word. And what if he had? How a convulsive snatching at social salvation might have impelled her to answer him she could not say. But her poor foolish mother little knew her present feeling towards this man. Perhaps it was unusual in the circumstances, unlucky, unaccountable; but there it was; and this, as she had said, was what made her detest herself. She had never wholly cared for him, she did not at all care for him now. She had dreaded him, winced before him, succumbed to adroit advantages he took of her helplessness; then, temporarily blinded by his ardent manners, had been stirred to confused surrender awhile: had suddenly despised and disliked him, and had run away. That was all. Hate him she did not quite; but he was dust and ashes to her, and even for her name's sake she scarcely wished to marry him. ¡¡¡¡`You ought to have been more careful if you didn't mean to get him to make you his wife!'

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mother, my mother!' cried the agonized girl, turning passionately upon her parent as if her poor heart would break. `How could I be expected to know? I was a child when I left this house four months ago. Why didn't you tell me there was danger in men-folk? Why didn't you warn me? Ladies know what to fend hands against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance o' learning in that way, and you did not help me!' ¡¡¡¡Her mother was subdued. ¡¡¡¡`I thought if I spoke of his fond feelings and what they might lead to, you would be hontish wi' him and lose your chance,' she murmured, wiping her eyes with her apron. `Well, we must make the best of it, I suppose. 'Tis nater, after all, and what do please God!'

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At first she could not find them, and she was informed that most of them had gone to what they called a private little jig at the house of a hay-trusser and peat-dealer who had transactions with their farm. He lived in an out-of-the-way nook of the townlet, and in trying to find her course thither her eyes fell upon Mr d'Urberville standing at a street corner. ¡¡¡¡`What - my Beauty? You here so late?' he said. ¡¡¡¡She told him that she was simply waiting for company homeward. ¡¡¡¡`I'll see you again,' said he over her shoulder as she went on down the back lane. ¡¡¡¡Approaching the hay-trussers she could hear the fiddled notes of a reel proceeding from some building in the rear; but no sound of dancing was audible - an exceptional state of things for these parts, where as a rule the stamping drowned the music. The front door being open she could see straight through the house into the garden at the back as far as the shades of night would allow; and nobody appearing to her knock she traversed the dwelling and went up the path to the outhouse whence the sound had attracted her.

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It was a windowless erection used for storage, and from the open door there floated into the obscurity a mist of yellow radiance, which at first Tess thought to be illuminated smoke. But on drawing nearer she perceived that it was a cloud of dust, lit by candies within the outhouse, whose beams upon the haze carried forward the outline of the doorway into the wide night of the garden. ¡¡¡¡When she came close and looked in she beheld indistinct forms racing up and down to the figure of the dance, the silence of their footfalls arising from their being overshoe in `scroff' - that is to say, the powdery residuum from the storage of peat and other products, the stirring of which by their turbulent feet created the nebulosity that involved the scene. Through this floating, fusty débris of peat and hay, mixed with the perspirations and warmth of the dancers, and forming together a sort of vegeto-human pollen, the muted fiddles feebly pushed their notes, in marked contrast to the spirit with which the measure was trodden out. They coughed as they danced, and laughed as they coughed. Of the rushing couples there could barely be discerned more than the high lights - the indistinctness shaping them to satyrs clasping nymphs - a multiplicity of Pans whirling a multiplicity of Syrinxes; Lotis attempting to elude Priapus, and always failing.

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At intervals a couple would approach the doorway for air, and the haze no longer veiling their features, the demigods resolved themselves into the homely personalities of her own next door neighbours. Could Trantridge in two or three short hours have metamorphosed itself thus madly! ¡¡¡¡Some Sileni of the throng sat on benches and hay-trusses by the wall; and one of them recognized her. ¡¡¡¡`The maids don't think it respectable to dance at "The Flower-de-Luce",' he explained. `They don't like to let everybody see which be their fancy-men. Besides, the house sometimes shuts up just when their lints begin to get greased. So we come here and send out for liquor.' ¡¡¡¡`But when be any of you going home?' asked Tess with some anxiety. ¡¡¡¡`Now - almost directly. This is all but the last jig.'

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She waited. The reel drew to a close, and some of the party were in the mind for starting. But others would not, and another dance was formed. This surely would end it, thought Tess. But it merged in yet another. She became restless and uneasy; yet, having waited so long, it was necessary to wait longer; on account of the fair the roads were dotted with roving characters of possibly ill intent; and, though not fearful of measurable dangers, she feared the unknown. Had she been near Marlott she would have had less dread. ¡¡¡¡`Don't ye be nervous, my dear good soul,'expostulated, between his coughs, a young man with a wet face, and his straw hat so far back upon his head that the brim encircled it like the nimbus of a saint. `What's yer hurry? Tomorrow is Sunday, thank God, and we can sleep it off in church time. Now, have a turn with me?' She did not abhor dancing, but she was not going to dance here. The movement grew more passionate: the fiddlers behind the luminous pillar of cloud now and then varied the air by playing on the wrong side of the bridge or with the back of the bow. But it did not matter; the panting shapes spun onwards.

famous flower painting

ir partners if their inclination were to stick to previous ones. Changing partners simply meant that a satisfactory choice had not as yet been arrived at by one or other of the pair, and by this time every couple had been suitably matched. It was then that the ecstasy and the dream began, in which emotion was the matter of the universe, and matter but an adventitious intrusion likely to hinder you from spinning where you wanted to spin. ¡¡¡¡Suddenly there was a dull thump on the ground: a couple had fallen, and lay in a mixed heap. The next couple, unable to check its progress, came toppling over the obstacle. An inner cloud of dust rose around the prostrate figures amid the general one of the room, in which a twitching entanglement of arms and legs was discernible.

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The wind blew through Tess's white muslin to her very skin, and her washed hair flew out behind. She was determined to show no open fear, but she clutched d'Urberville's rein-arm. ¡¡¡¡`Don't touch my arm! We shall be thrown out if you do! Hold on round my waist!' ¡¡¡¡She grasped his waist, and so they reached the bottom. ¡¡¡¡`Safe, thank God, in spite of your fooling!' said she, her face on fire. ¡¡¡¡`Tess - fie! that's temper!' said d'Urberville. ¡¡¡¡`Tis truth.' ¡¡¡¡`Well, you need not let go your hold of me so thanklessly the moment you feel yourself out of danger.' ¡¡¡¡She had not considered what she had been doing; whether he were man or woman, stick or stone, in her involuntary hold on him. Recovering her reserve she sat without replying, and thus they reached the summit of another declivity. Now then, again!' said d'Urberville. ¡¡¡¡`No, no!' said Tess. `Show more sense, do, please.' ¡¡¡¡`But when people find themselves on one of the highest points in the county, they must get down again,' he retorted. ¡¡¡¡He loosened rein, and away they went a second time. D'Urberville turned his face to her as they rocked, and said, in playful raillery: `Now then, put your arms round my waist again, as you did before, my Beauty.'

precious time

Never!' said Tess independently, holding on as well as she could without touching him. ¡¡¡¡`Let me put one little kiss on those holmberry lips, Tess, or even on that warmed cheek, and I'll stop - on my honour, I will!' ¡¡¡¡Tess, surprised beyond measure, slid farther back still on her seat, at which he urged the horse anew, and rocked her the more. ¡¡¡¡`Will nothing else do?' she cried at length, in desperation, her large eyes staring at him like those of a wild animal. This dressing her up so prettily by her mother hid apparently been to lamentable purpose. ¡¡¡¡`Nothing, dear Tess,' he replied. ¡¡¡¡`Oh, I don't know - very well; I don't mind!' she panted miserably. ¡¡¡¡He drew rein, and as they slowed he was on the point of imprinting the desired salute, when, as if hardly yet aware of her own modesty, she dodged aside. His arms being occupied with the reins there was left him no power to prevent her manoeuvre.

Rembrandt Biblical Scene

Now, damn it - I'll break both our necks!' swore her capriciously passionate companion. `So you can go from your word like that, you young witch, can you?' ¡¡¡¡`Very well,'said Tess, `I'll not move since you be so determined! But I - thought you would be kind to me, and protect me, as my kinsman!' ¡¡¡¡`Kinsman be hanged! Now!' ¡¡¡¡`But I don't want anybody to kiss me, sir!' she implored, a big tear beginning to roll down her face, and the corners of her mouth trembling in her attempts not to cry. `And I wouldn't ha'come if I had known!' ¡¡¡¡He was inexorable, and she sat still, and d'Urberville gave her the kiss of mastery. No sooner had he done so than she flushed with shame, took out her handkerchief, and wiped the spot on her cheek that had been touched by his lips. His ardour was nettled at the sight, for the act on her part had been unconsciously done. ¡¡¡¡`You are mighty sensitive for a cottage girl!' said the young man. ¡¡¡¡Tess made no reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she did not quite comprehend the drift, unheeding the snub she had administered by her instinctive rub upon her cheek. She had, in fact, undone the kiss, as far as such a thing was physically possible. With a dim sense that he was vexed she looked steadily ahead as they trotted on near Melbury Down and Wingreen, till she saw, to her consternation, that there was yet another descent to be undergone.