Literary Friday: Charlotte Brontë, Anthony Trollope and The Venerable Bede

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:00

Uh I'm starting tonight's podcast. The same day I posted the slightly melancholy one earlier. I'm walking, and it's nearly eleven o'clock at night across the beach towards the sea, and it's just m ahead of me, there's no one. All there is is the sea. Although I think I'm gonna try and protect from the wind. And we've had a lovely evening out. I've had good chats with my daughter. She's feeling more positive, and the sky looks amazing. And I wouldn't say I feel happy, but I feel exhilarated, and it's this atmosphere of being so surrounded and enveloped by the huge skies and the cliffs and the seas and the forces of nature. And as cheesy as that seems uh sounds, it's just that's how it feels. It feels wonderful and I I feel alive and I feel energized and I feel like I can cope. I think it's that, isn't it? Always always the question is do I feel like I can cope with what I'm having to face? And I hope now you'll be able to hear the sound of the sea that's probably 200 yards ahead of me. It's quite scary in a way because it's just me and the sea and it's coming in. And as I look back, I'm quite a long way now for everybody else. But and I look up and the moon is nearly full. It's a blue moon and it looks beautiful. The clouds are passing quite quickly in front of it. And I can see Puppy, and she's looking ahead, thinking, what on earth? She's just standing erect, looking at the sea. She keeps barking at little towers of stones that children or people have made. And uh she's having a wonderful holiday. But uh, I'm missing Mr. Cat, missing Doggo, and I'm glad tomorrow's our last day. And this is the sound of the water coming down the beach from the valleys. So this is fresh water that's heading down towards the sea. And I don't know why, maybe everybody feels this, but I always feel that the point at which fresh water meets salt water and you get the sort of brackish mix, there's almost something, I don't know, just special about that. And knowing the difference in fact, puppy's just gone mad, she's just doing sort of the zoomies around the beach, aren't you?

SPEAKER_00 2:51

You're having a lovely time. Oh I think it's because there are lots of towers of stones. And she thinks they're people. She's running around them. What do you think they are? Puppy, what's this? They do look like little people. I might take some pictures, they look great.

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Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers Chapter sixteen Baby Worship Diddle Diddle, diddle diddle, dum dum dum said or sung Eleanor Bold Diddle Diddle Diddle Diddle Dum Dum Dum, continued Mary Bold, taking up the second part in this concerted piece. The only audience at the concert was the baby, who, however, gave such vociferous applause that the performers, presuming it to amount to an encore, commenced again. Diddle diddle diddle diddle dum dum dum hasn't he got lovely legs? said the rapturous mother. Hm, simmered Mary, burying her lips, I think it was the wrong noise, in the little fellow's fat neck by way of kissing him. Simmered mamma, burying her lips also in his fat, round short legs. He's a daughty little bold darling, so he is, and he has the nicest little pink legs in all the world, so he has. And the simmering and the kissing went on over again, and as though the ladies were very hungry and determined to eat him. Well then he's his own mother's own darling. Well he shall Oh Mary Mary did you ever see? What am I to do? My naughty, naughty, naughty naughty little Johnny. All these energetic exclamations were elicited by the delight of the mother in finding that her son was strong enough and mischievous enough to pull her to pull all her hair out from under her cap. He's been and pulled down all mamma's hair, and he's the naughtyest, naughty, naughtyest little man that ever, ever, ever, ever, ever a regular service of baby worship was going on. Maribold was sitting on a low easy chair, with the boy in her lap, and Eleanor was kneeling before the object of her idolatry. As she tried to cover up for the little fellow's face with her long, glossy, dark brown locks and permitted him to pull them hither and thither as he would, she looked very beautiful in spite of the widow's cap which she still wore. There was a quiet, enduring, grateful sweetness about her face, which grew so strongly upon those who knew her as to make the great praise of her beauty which came from her old friends appear marvellously exaggerated to those who were only slightly acquainted with her. Her loveliness was like that of many landscapes which required to be often seen to be fully enjoyed. There was a depth of dark, clear brightness in her eyes, which was lost upon a quick observer, a character about her mouth which only showed itself to those whom she familiarly conversed, and a glorious form of head, the perfect symmetry of which required the eye of an artist for its appreciation. She had none of that dazzling brilliancy of that voluptuous Rubens beauty, of that pearly whiteness and those vermilion tints which immediately entranced with the power of a basilisk men who came within the reach of Madeline Neroni. It was all but impossible to resist the Signora, but no one was called upon for any resistance towards Eleanor. You might begin to talk to her as though she were your sister, and it would not be till your head was on your pillow that the truth and intensity of her beauty would flash upon you, that the sweetness of her voice would come upon your ear. A sudden half hour with the Naroni was like falling into a pit. An evening spent with Eleanor was like an unexpected ramble in some quiet fields of an asphoto. I just want to say how brilliantly observed that is and how I've observed that in men and women throughout my life, and it doesn't mean that you find them sexually attractive, because as I say, I've I've felt that way about women. Sometimes when I'm talking to my best friend, Vicky, I'm entranced by how beautiful she is, and my other friend, Claire, as well. So I feel that way about my own close friends, and I sometimes think it when I talk to my children and just see how attractive they are, or you it's true about people that you you can really after a while realise just how attractive they are, and often it it is younger people with their fresh skin, but not always, sometimes it can be older people, and you're suddenly entranced by their attractiveness, but you know, as I say, it doesn't mean that it there's a sexual element to it. And one of the great disasters of the modern era is that no one's allowed to comment on the attractiveness of children, I should say, you know, between anyone I would say between the ages of eleven and twenty, say, and you you can't because you're on dodgy ground. But the truth is some of the most attractive of all people are people who are going through adolescence because they've got that lovely freshness about them and the gorgeous plumpness about their faces, whether they're male or female, and that's something that's always been appreciated by artists and sculptors and so on, but it's now seen as uh and uh i if you're if you acknowledge that that attractiveness now, you'll you're seen as you know being odd and perverse and all those things. So it's a shame. Hopefully things will settle down after after a while, and but but I suppose the trouble with social media is that people are so vitriolic the moment you say anything. I remember once there was a huge hu-ha when the independent newspaper was a thing, and they had poem of the day or the week or something every day at the back, and a poet had written a poem about his daughter, who I think was maybe eleven, and in the poem he talked he talked about her petal nipple as she undressed, and it was so this poem was published, and it was there was just a huge reaction against it, with everyone saying it was disgusting and abusive, and you know, and it probably was almost certainly was the wrong thing to do in the sense that you know his daughter was going to grow up and read it and be uncomfortable perhaps with it. But I did feel sorry for him because I I did know what he meant by that, the lovely, attractive, fresh freshness of a young child's skin and their little marks on their bodies, whether it's their freckles or their nipples or their you know, their eyelashes or or whatever. Anyway, sorry to interrupt. We'll cover him up till there shan't be a morsel of his little itel itel itle nose to be seen, said the mother, stretching her streaming locks over the infant's face. The child screamed with delight and kicked, till Maribold was hardly able to hold him. At this moment the door opened, and Mr Slope was announced. Up jumped Eleanor, and with a sudden quick motion of her hands, pushed back her hair over her shoulders. It would have been perhaps better for her that she had not, for she thus showed more of her confusion than she would have done had she remained as she was. Mr Slope, however, immediately recognised her loveliness, and thought to himself that irrespective of her fortune, she would be an inmate that a man might well desire for his house, a partner for his bosom's care very well qualified to make care lie easy. Eleanor hurried out of the room to readjust her cap, muttering something unne some unnecessary apology about her baby, and while she is gone, we will briefly go back and state what had hitherto the results of Mr Slope's meditations on his scheme of matrimony. I think I missed out the word bean then, and state what had been hitherto the results of his meditations. His inquiries as to the widow's income had at any rate been so far successful as to induce him to determine to go on with the speculation. As regarded Mr Harding, he had also resolved to do what he could without injury to himself. To Mrs. Proudie he determined not to speak on the matter, at least not at present. His object was to instigate a little rebellion on the part of the bishop. He thought that such a state of things would be advisable not only in respect to the Messieurs Harding and Quiverful, but also in the affairs of the diocese generally. Mr Slope was by no means of opinion that doctor Proudie was fit to rule, but he conscientiously thought it wrong that his brother clergy should be subjected to petticoat government. He therefore made up his mind to infuse a little bit of his spirit into the bishop, sufficient to induce him to oppose his wife, though not enough to make him altogether insubordinate. That's when he's making his mistake, don't you think? Once you get an angry wife, then you know what next? So watch out, Mr Slope. And just so you know, I do have no idea how it's going to end, so make sure you don't tell me. He had therefore taken an opportunity of again speaking to his lordship about the hospital, and had endeavoured to make it appear that after all it would be unwise to exclude Mr Hardy from the appointment. Mr Slope, however, had a harder task than he had imagined. Mrs Proudie, anxious to assume to herself as much as possible of the merit of patronage, had written to Mrs. Quiverfull, requesting her to call at the palace, and had then explained to that matron with much mystery, condens condensation, condescension, and dignity the good that was in store for her and her progeny. Indeed, Mrs. Proudie had been so engaged at the very time that Mr Slope had been doing the same with her husband at Puddingdale Vicarage, and had thus, in a measure, committed herself. The thanks, the humility, the gratitude, the surprise of Mrs. Quiverfull had been very overpowering. She had all but embraced the knees of her patroness, and had promised that the prayers of fourteen unprovided babes, so Mrs. Quiverful had described her own family, the eldest of which was a stout young woman of three and twenty, should be put up to heaven. Morning and evening for the munificent friend whom God had sent to them. Such incense as this was not unpleasing to Mrs. Proudie, and she made the most of it. She offered her general assistance to the fourteen unprovided babes, if, as she had no doubt, she should find them worthy, expressed a hope that the eldest of them would be fit to undertake tuition in her Sabbath schools, and altogether made herself a very great lady in the estimation of Mrs. Quiverfull. Having done this, she thought it prudent to drop a few words before the bishop, letting him know that she had acquainted the Puddingdale family with their good fortune, so that he might perceive that he stood committed to the appointment. The husband well understood the ruse of his wife, but he did not resent it. He knew that she was taking the patronage out of his hands. He was resolved to put an end to her interference and to reassume his powers, but then he thought this was not the best time to do it. That was always his way, wasn't it? He put off the evil hour as many a man in similar circumstances has done before him. Such having been the case, Mr Slope naturally encountered a difficulty in talking over the bishop, a difficulty indeed which he found could not be overcome except at the cost of a general outbreak at the palace. A general outbreak at the present moment might be good policy, but it also might not. It was at any rate not a step to be lightly taken. He began by whispering to the bishop that he feared that public opinion would be against him if Mr Harding did not reappear at the hospital. The Bishop answered with some warmth that Mr Quiverfull had been promised the appointment on Mr Slope's advice. Not promised, said Mr Slope. Yes, promised, replied the bishop. And Mrs Proudie has seen Mrs. Quiverfull on the subject. This was quite unexpected on the part of Mr Slope, but his presence of mind did not fail him, and he turned the statement to his own account. Ah, my lord, said he, we shall all be in scrapes if the ladies interfere. This was too much in unison with my lord's feelings to be altogether unpalatable, and yet such an allusion to interference demanded a rebuke. My lord was somewhat astounded also, though not altogether made miserable by finding that there was a point of difference between his wife and the chaplain. I don't know what you mean by interference, said the bishop mildly. When Mrs Proudie heard that Mr Quiverfull was to be appointed, it was not unnatural that she would wish to see Mrs. Quiverful about the schools. I really cannot say that I see any interference. I only speak, my lord, for your own comfort, said Mr Slope. For your own comfort and dignity in the diocese. I can have no other motive. As far as personal feelings go, Mrs. Proudie is the best friend I have. I must always remember that, but still, in my present position my first duty is to your lordship. I'm sure of that, Mr Slope, I am quite sure of that, said the Bishop, mollified. And you really think that Mr Harding should have the hospital? Upon my word, I'm inclined to think so. I am quite prepared to take upon myself the blame of first suggesting Mr Quiverfull's name. But since doing so I found that there's so strong a feeling in the diocese in favour of Mr Harding, that I think your lordship should give way. Yes, I also hear that Mr Harding has modified the objections he first felt to your lordship's propositions as to what's passed between Mrs. Proudie and Mrs. Quiverfull. The circumstance may be a little inconvenient, but I really do not think that should weigh in a matter of so much moment. And thus the poor bishop was left in a dreadfully undecided state as to what he should do. His mind, however, slightly inclined itself to the appointment of Mr Harding, seeing that by such a step he should have the assistance of Mr Slope in opposing Mrs. Proudie. Such was the state of affairs at the palace when Mr Slope called at Mrs. Bold's house and found her playing with her baby. When she ran out of the room, Mr Slope began praising the weather to Mary Bold. Then he praised the baby and kissed him, and then he praised the mother, and then he praised Miss Bold herself. Mrs. Bold, however, was not long before she came back. I have to apologize for calling at so very early an hour, began Mr Slope. But I was really so anxious to speak to you that I hope you and Miss Bold will excuse me. Eleanor muttered something in which the words certainly and of course, and not early at all, were just audible and then apologised for her own appearance, declaring with a smile that her baby was becoming such a big boy that he was quite unmanageable. He's a great big naughty boy, said she to the child, and we must send him away to a gr sorry, the puppy keeps jumping on the bed, so I keep having to stop. Right, come on, focus, Gretel. Send him away to a great big rough rumping school where they have great big rods and do terrible things to naughty boys who don't do what their mammas tell them. And then she commenced another course of kissing, being actuated thereto by the terrible idea of sending her child away which her own imagination had depicted. Yes, and where the masters don't have such beautiful long hair to be dishevelled, said Mr Slope, taking up the joke and paying a compliment at the same time. Eleanor thought he might as well have left the compliment alone, but she said nothing and looked nothing, being occupied as she was with the baby. Let me take him, said Mary. His clothes are nearly off his back with the romping. And so saying she left the room with the child. Miss Bold had heard Mr Slope say he had something pressing to say to Eleanor, and thinking that she might be de tolp, took this opportunity of getting herself out of the room. Don't be long, Mary, said Eleanor, as Miss Bold shut the door. I am glad, Mrs. Bold to have the opportunity of having ten minutes conversation with you alone, began Mr Slope. Will you let me openly ask you a plain question? Certainly, said she. And I'm sure you'll give me a give me a plain and open answer. Either that or none at all, said she, laughing. My question is, Mrs. Bold, is your father really anxious to get back to the hospital? Why do you ask me? said she, why don't you ask him himself? My dear Mrs. Bold, I'll tell you why there are wheels within wheels, all of which I would explain to you only I fear that there is not time. It is essentially necessary that I should have an answer to this question, otherwise I cannot know how to advance your father's wishes, and it is quite impossible that I should ask himself no one can esteem your father more than I do, but I doubt if this feeling is reciprocal it certainly was not. I must be candid with you as the only means of avoiding ultimate consequences which may be most injurious to Mr Harding. I fear that there is a feeling I will not even call it a prejudice with regard to myself in Barchester, which is not in my favour. You remember that sermon? Oh, Mr Slope, we need not go back to that, said Eleanor. For one moment, Mrs Bold it is not that I may talk of myself, but because it is so essential that you should have an understanding of how matters stand. That sermon may have been ill judged. It was certainly misunderstood, but I will say nothing about that now. Only this that it did give rise to a feeling against myself which your father shares with others. It may be that he has proper cause, but the result is that he's not inclined to meet me on friendly terms. I put it to you whether you do not know this is to be the case. Eleanor made no answer, and Mr Slope in the eagerness of his address, edged his chair a little nearer to the widow's seat, unperceived by her Such being so, continued Mr Slope, I cannot ask him his this question, as I can ask it of you in spite of my delinquencies since I came to Barchester, you have allowed me to regard you as a friend. Eleanor made a little motion with her head which was hardly confirmatory, but Mr Slope, if he noticed it, did not appear to do so. To you I can speak openly and explain the feelings of my heart. This your father would not allow unfortunately the bishop has thought it right that this matter of the hospital should pass through my hands. There have been some details to get up with which he would not trouble himself, and thus it has come to pass that I was forced to have an interview with your father on the matter. I am aware of that, said Eleanor. Of course, said he in that interview Mr Harding left the impression on my mind that he did not wish to return to the hospital. How could that be? said Eleanor, at last stirred up to forget the cold propriety of demeanour which she had determined to maintain. My dear Mrs Bold, I give you my word that such was the case, said he, again getting a little nearer to her. And what is more than that, before my interview with Mr Harding, certain persons at the palace, I do not mean the bishop, had told me that such was the fact I own I hardly believed it. I own I thought that your father would wish on every account, for conscious sake, for the sake of those dear old men, for old association and the memory of dear days long gone by on every account I thought he would wish to resume his duties, but I was told that such was not his wish and he certainly left me with the impression that I had been told the truth. Well, said Eleanor, now sufficiently roused on the matter I hear Miss Bold's step, said Mr Slope. Would it be asking too great a favour to beg you to I know you can manage anything with Miss Bold. Eleanor did not like the word manage, but she still went out and asked Mary to leave them alone for another quarter of an hour. Oh thank you, Mrs Bold, I am so very grateful for this confidence Well, I left your father with this impression, and indeed I may say that he made me understand that he declined the appointment not the appointment, said Eleanor. I am sure he did not decline the appointment, but he said that he would not agree, that is, that he did not like the scheme about the schools and the services and all that. I am quite sure he never said that he wished to refuse the place. Oh Mrs Bold, said Mr Slope, in a manner almost impassioned I would not for all the world say to so good a daughter a word against so good a father, but you must for his sake let me show you exactly how the matter stands at present. Mr Harding was a little flurried when I told him of the bishop's wishes about the school I did so perhaps with the less caution because you yourself had so perfectly agreed with me on the same subject. He was a little put out and spoke. Tell the bishop, said he, that I quite disagree with him and shall not return to the hospital as such conditions are attached to it. What he said was to that effect indeed his words were, if anything, stronger than those, I had no alternative but to repeat them to his lordship, who said that he could look on them in no other light than a refusal. He also had heard a report that your father did not wish for the appointment and putting all these things together he thought he had no choice but to look for someone else. He has consequently offered the place to Mr Quiverful offered the place to Mr Quiverful repeated Eleanor, her eyes suffused with tears then Mr Slope there is an end of it No, my friend not so said he is to prevent such being the end of it that I am here now. I may at any rate presume that I have got an answer to my question, and that Mr Harding is desirous of returning Desirous of returning of course he is said Eleanor of course he wishes to have his back back his house and his income and his place in the world and to have back what he gave up with such self denying honesty if he can have them back without restraints on his conduct to which at his age it would be impossible that he should submit. How can the bishop ask a man of his age to turn schoolmaster to a pack of children? Oh out of the question, said Mr Slope, laughing slightly of course no demands shall be made on your father I can at any rate promise you that I will not be the medium of any so absurd a requisition. We wished your father to preach in the hospital as the inmates may naturally be too old to leave it, but even that shall not be insisted on. We wished also to attach a Sabbath day school to the hospital thinking that such an establishment could not be but useful under the surveillance of so good a clergyman as Mr Harding and also under your own, but dear Mrs Bold, we won't talk of these things now. One thing is clear we must do what we can to annul this rash offer the bishop has made to Mr Quiverful Your father wouldn't see Quiverful would he? Quiverful is an honourable man and would not for a moment stand in your father's way. What? said Eleanor Ask a man with fourteen children to give up his preferment I am quite sure he will do no such thing I suppose not, said Slope, and again he drew near to Mrs Bold, so that they were now very close to each other I don't like all this shuffling closer it's very Eleanor did not think much about it, but instinctively moved away a little. How greatly would she have increased the distance could she have guessed what had been said about her at Plumstead I suppose not, but it is out of the question that Quiverfalls should supersede your father quite out of the question The Bishop has been too rash. An idea occurs to me which may perhaps with God's blessing put us right my dear Mrs Bold would you object to seeing the bishop yourself? Why should not my father see him, said Eleanor. She had once before in her life interfered in her father's affairs, and then not to much advantage. She was older now and felt that she should take no step in a matter so vital to him without his consent. Why to tell the truth said Mr Slope, with a look of sorrow as though he greatly bewailed the want of charity in his patron the bishop fancies that he is the cause of anger against your father. I fear an interview would lead to further ill will Why said Eleanor my father is the mildest, the gentlest man living I only know, said Slope, that he has the best of daughters so you would not see the bishop as to getting an interview I could manage that for you without the slightest annoyance to yourself I could do nothing, Mr Slope without consulting my father Ah, said he, well that would be useless 'you would then be only your father's messenger. Does anything occur to yourself? Something must be done. Your father shall not be ruined by so ridiculous a misunderstanding. Eleanor said that nothing occurred to her, but that it was very hard, and the tears came to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Mr Slope would have given much to have had the privilege of drying them, but he had tact enough to know that he still had a great deal to do before he could even hope for any such privilege with Mrs Bold. Oh it cuts me to the heart to see you so grieved, said he, but pray let me assure you that your father's interests shall not be sacrificed if it's possible for me to protect them. I will tell the bishop openly what are the facts and I will explain to him that he has hardly the right to appoint any other than your father, and will show him that if he does so he will be guilty of a great injustice, and you, Mrs Bold, you will have the charity at any rate to believe this of me that I am truly anxious for your father's welfare, for his and for your own. The widow hardly knew what answer to make. She was quite aware that her father would not be at all thankful to Mr Slope. She had a strong wish to share her father's feelings, and yet she could not but acknowledge that Mr Slope was very kind. Her father who was generally so charitable to all men, who seldom spoke ill of anyone, had warned her warned her against Mr Slope, and yet she did not know how to abstain from thanking him. What interest could he have in the matter but that which he professed nevertheless there was that in his manner which even she distrusted she felt she did not know why that there was something about him which ought to put her on her guard and we'll leave it there. And now we go to Charlotte Bronte Villette Chapter twenty concert one morning Mrs Breton coming promptly into my room desired me to open my drawers and show her my dresses, which I did without a word That will do, said she, when she had turned them over you must have a new one. She went out she returned presently with a dressmaker. She had measured I mean, said she to follow my own taste and to have my own way in this little matter. Two days after came home a pink dress. That is not for me, I said hurriedly, feeling that I would almost as soon clothe myself in the costume of a Chinese lady of rank. We shall see whether it is or not for you, rejoined my godmother, adding with her resistless decision Mark my words you will wear it this very evening I thought I should not I thought no human force should avail to put me into it a pink dress I knew it not it knew not me. I had not proved it My godmother went on to decree that I was to go with her and Graham to a concert that very same night, which concert she exclaimed was a grand affair to be held in the large sales or hall of the Principal Music Society the most advanced of the pupils of the Conservatoire were to perform and it was to be followed by a lottery au benefist depouvre and to crown it all the king, queen and prince of Labascour were to be present. Graham in sending tickets had enjoined attention to costume as a compliment due to royalty. He also recommended punctual readiness by seven o'clock about six I was ushered upstairs. Without any force at all I found myself led and influenced by another's will, unconsulted, unpersuaded, quietly overruled in short the pink dress went on, softened by some drapery of black lace. I was pronounced to be endeau and requested to look in the glass. I did so with some fear and trembling with more fear and trembling I turned away seven o'clock struck. Dr Breton was come my godmother and I went down she was clad in brown velvet as I walked in her shadow how I envied her those folds of grave dark majesty Graham stood in the drawing room doorway. I do hope he will not think I have been decking myself out to draw attention was my uneasy aspiration. Here, Lucy are some flowers, said he, giving me a bouquet. He took no further notice of my dress than was conveyed in a kind smile and satisfied nod, which calmed at once my sense of shame and fear of ridicule for the rest the dress was made with extreme simplicity, guiltless of flounce or fur below it was but the light fabric and bright tint which scared me, and since Graham found in it nothing absurd, my own eye consented soon to become reconciled. I suppose people who go every night to places of public amusement can hardly enter into the fresh gala feeling with which an opera or concert is enjoyed by those for whom it is a rarity. I am not sure that I expected great pleasure from the concert, having but a very vague notion of its nature, but I liked the drive there well, the snug comfort of the closed carriage on a cold though fine night the pleasure of setting out with companions so cheerful and friendly, the sight of the stars glinting fitfully through the trees as we rolled along the avenue, then the freer burst of the night sky than when we issued forth to the open chausse, the passage through the city gates, the light there burning, the guards there posted, the pretence of inspection to which we there submitted and which amused us so much, all these small matters had for me in their novelty, a peculiar exhilarating charm, how much of it lay in the atmosphere of friendship diffused about me I knew not. Dr John and his mother were both in their finest mood, contending animatedly with each other the whole way and as frankly kind to me as if I had been of their kin. Our way led through some of the best streets of Villette, streets brightly lit and far more lively now than at high noon, how brilliant seemed the shops, how glad, gay and abundant flowed the tide of life along the broad pavement while I looked the thought of the Rue Fawcette came across me, of the walled in garden and schoolhouse and of the dark vast classes, where at this very hour it was my wont to wander all solitary gazing at the stars through the high, blindless windows and listening to the distant voice of the reader in the refectory monotonously exercised upon the lecture peers. Thus must I soon again listen and wonder, and this shadow of the future stole with timely sobriety across the radiant present. By this time we had got into a current of carriages all tending in one direction, and soon the front of a great illuminated building blazed before us. Of what I should see within this building I had, as I before intimated, but an imperfect idea for no place of public entertainment had it ever been my lot to enter yet. We alighted under a portico where there was a great bustle and a great crowd, but I do not distinctly remember further details until I found myself mounting a majestic staircase wide and easy of ascent, deeply and softly carpeted with crimson, leading up to great doors closed solemnly and whose panels were also crimson clothed. I hardly noticed by what magic these doors were made to roll back. Dr John managed these points roll back they did, however, and within was disclosed a hall grand, wide and high, whose sweeping circular walls and domed hollow ceiling seemed to me all dead gold, thus with nice art was it stained, relieved by cornicing, fluting and garlandry, either bright like gold burnished, or snow white like alabaster, or white and gold mingled in wreaths of gilded leaves and spotless lilies. Wherever drapery hung, wherever carpets were spread or cushions placed, the sole colour employed was deep crimson. Pendant from the dome flamed a mass that dazzled me, a mass I thought of rock crystal, sparkling with facets streaming with drops, ablaze with stars and gorgeously tinged with dews of gems dissolved or fragments of rainbows shivered. It was only the chandelier reader, but for me it seemed the work of eastern genii. I almost looked to see if a huge dark cloudy hand, that of a slave of the lamp, were not hovering in the lustrous and perfumed atmosphere of the Capola guarding its wondrous treasure. We moved on, I was not at all conscious whither, but at some turn we suddenly encountered another party approaching from the opposite direction. I just now see that group as it flashed upon me for one moment a handsome middle aged lady in dark velvet, a gentleman who might be her son, the best face, the finest figure I thought I had ever seen, a third person in a pink dress and black lace mantle. I noted them all, the third person as well as the other two, and for the fraction of a moment believed them all strangers, thus receiving an impartial impression of their appearance, but the impression was hardly hardly felt and not fixed before the consciousness that I faced a great mirror, feeling a compartment between two pillars dispelled it. The party was our own party. Thus, for the first and perhaps only time in my life, I enjoyed the gifty of seeing myself as others see me. No need to dwell on the result. It brought a jar of discord, a pang of regret. It was not flattering, yet after all, I ought to be thankful it might have been worse. At last we were seated in places commanding a good general view of that vast and dazzling but warm and cheerful hall. Already it was filled and filled with a splendid assemblage. I do not know that the women were very beautiful, but their dresses were so perfect, and foreigners, even such as are ungraceful in domestic privacy, seem to possess the art of appearing graceful in public. However blunt and boisterous those everyday and home movements connected with peignoir and papillot, there is a slide, a bend, a carriage of the head and arms, a mean of the mouth and eyes kept nicely in reserve for garlic use, always brought out with the grand toilette and duly put on with the par. Some fine forms there were here and there, models of a peculiar style of beauty, a style I think never seen in England, a solid, firm set sculptural style. These shapes have no angles, a carytid in marble is almost as flexible. A Fidian goddess is not more perfect, in a certain still and stately sort. They have such features as the Dutch painters give their Madonnas, low country classic features regular but round, straight but solid, and for their depth of expressionless calm, of passionless peace, a polo snowfield could alone offer a type Women of this order need no ornament and they seldom wear any the smooth hair closely braided supplies a sufficient contrast to the smook smoother cheek and brow. The dress cannot be too simple the rounded arm and perfect neck require neither bracelet nor chain. With one of these beauties I had once the honour and rapture to be perfectly acquainted. The inert force of the deep, settled love she bore herself was wonderful. It could only be surpassed by her proud impotency to care for any other living being of blood her cool veins conducted no flow, placid, limph filled and almost obstructed her arteries. Such a Juno, as I have described, sat full in our view, a sort of mark for all eyes, and quite conscious that she was, but proof to the magnetic influence of gaze or glance, cold, rounded, blonde and beauteous as the white column capitalled with gilding which rose at her side. Observing that Dr John's attention was much drawn towards her, I entreated him in a low voice for the love of heaven to shield well his heart, you need not fall in love with that lady, I said, because I tell you beforehand you might die at her feet and she would not love you again. Very well, said he, and how do you know that the spectacle of her grand insensibility might not with me be the strongest stimulus to homage. The sting of desperation is, I think, a wonderful irritant to my emotions. But shrugging his shoulders, you know nothing about these things. I'll address myself to my mother Mamma, I'm in a dangerous way. As if that interested me, said Mrs Breton. Alas the cruelty of my lot, responded her son, never man had a more unsentimental mother than mine. She never seems to think that such a calamity can befall her as a daughter in law. If I don't it is not for want of having that same calamity held over my head. You have threatened me with it for the last ten years. Mamma I'm going to be married soon was the cry before you were well out of jackets. But mother one of these days it will be realized all of a sudden when you think you're most secure I shall go forth like Jacob or Esau or any other patriarch and take me a wife perhaps of these which are the daughters of the land at your peril, John Graham, that is all Oh this mother of mine means me to be an old bachelor what a jealous old lady it is but now just look at that splendid creature in the pale blue satin dress and hair of paler brown with satine as those of her robe would you not feel proud, mamma if I were to bring that goddess home some day and introduce her to you as Mrs Breton junior You will bring no goddess to La Teas. That little chateau will not contain two mistresses, especially if the second be of the height, bulk and circumference of that mighty doll in wood and wax and kid and satin. Mamma she would fill your blue chair so admirably fill my chair I defy the foreign usurper a rueful chair should it be for her but hush, John Graham, hold your tongue and use your eyes During the above skirmish the hall, which, I had thought, seemed full at our entrance, continued to admit party after party, until the semicircle before the stage presented one dense mass of heads sloping from floor to ceiling. The stage too, or rather the wide temporary platform, larger than any stage, desert half an hour since or desert, was now overflowing with life round two grand pianos placed about the centre, a white flock of young girls, the pupils of the conservatoire had noiselessly poured. I had noticed their gathering while Graham and his mother were engaged in discussing the bell in blue satin, and had watched with interest the process of arraying and marshalling them in. Two gentlemen in each of whom I recognised an acquaintance officered this virgin troupe. One an artistic looking man, bearded and with long hair, was a noted pianist and also the first music teacher in Villette. He had attended twice a week at Madame Beck's pensionat to give lessons to the few pupils whose parents were rich enough to allow their daughters the privilege of his instructions. His name was Monsieur Joseph Emanuel and he was half brother to Monsieur Poul, which potent personage was now visible in the person of the second gentleman. Monsieur Poul amused me. I smiled to myself as I watched him he seemed so thoroughly in his element, standing conspicuous in presence of a wide and grand assemblage, arranging, restraining, overawing about one hundred young ladies. He was too so perfectly in earnest, so energetic, so intent, and above all so absolute, and yet what business had he there? What had he to do with music or the conservatoire, he who could hardly distinguish one note from another I knew that it was his love of display and authority which had brought him there, a love not offensive, only because so naive. It presently became obvious that his brother, Monsieur Joseph, was as much under his control as were the girls themselves. Never was there such a little hawk of a man as that Monsieur Paul. Ere long some noted singers and musicians dawned upon the platform. As these stars rose the comet like professor set. Insufferable to him were all notorieties and celebrities where he could not outshine he fled. And now all was prepared but one compartment of the hall waited to be filled a compartment covered with crimson like the grand staircase and doors furnished with stuffed and cushioned benches, ranging on each side of two red regal chairs placed solemnly under a canopy. A signal was given, the doors rolled back, the assembly stood up, the orchestra burst out unto the welcome of a choral burst, and to the king the queen, the court of La Bassecœur until then I'd never set eyes on living king or queen. It may be consequently conjectured how I strained my powers of vision to take in these specimens of European royalty. By whomsoever Majesty is beheld for the first time, there will always be experienced a vague surprise bordering on disappointment that the same does not appear seated on permanence, on a throne, bonneted with a crown, and furnished as to the hand with a sceptre. Looking out for a king and queen and seeing only a middle aged soldier and a rather young lady, I felt half cheated, half pleased. Well do I recall that king, a man of fifty, a little bowed, a little grey there was no face in that assembly which resembled his I had never read, never been told anything of his nature or his habits, and at first the strong hieroglyphics given as with iron stylet on his brow around his eyes, beside his mouth, puzzled and baffled instinct. Ere long, however, if I did not know, at least I felt the meaning of those characters written without hand. There sat a silent sufferer, a nervous, melancholy man. Those eyes had looked on the visits of a certain ghost, had long waited the comings and goings of that stranger scepter, hypochondria. Perhaps he saw her now on that stage, over against him amidst all that brilliant throng. Hypochondria has that want to rise in the midst of thousands, dark as doom, pale as malady, and well nigh strong as death. Her comrade and victim thinks to be happy one moment not so, says she I come, and she freezes the blood in his heart and beclouds the light in his eye. Some might say it was the foreign crowd pressing the king's brows which bent them to that peculiar and painful fold. Some might quote the effects of early bereavement something there might be of both these things, but these as embittered by that darkest foe of humanity, constitutional melancholy. The queen his wife knew this, it seemed to me. The reflection of her husband's grief lay a subduing shadow on her own benignant face, a mild, thoughtful, graceful woman that princess seemed not beautiful, not at all like the women of solid charms and marble feelings described a page or two since, hers were somewhat slender shape, her features, though distinguished enough, were too suggestive of reigning dynasties and royal lines to give unqualified pleasure. The expression, clothing, that profile was agreeable in the present instance, but she could not avoid connecting it with remembered effigies, where similar lines appeared, and a phase ignoble, feeble or sensual or cunning as the case may be. The Queen's eye, however, was her own, and pity, goodness and sweet sympathy blessed it with divinest light. She moved no sovereign but a lady, kind and loving, elegant. Her little son, the Prince of Labascour, and young Duke de Didorneau accompanied her Dindonau accompanied her. He leaned on his mother's knee, and ever and anon in the course of that evening, I saw her observant of the monarch at her side, conscious of his clouded abstraction and desirous to rouse him from it by drawing his attention to their son. She often bent her head to listen to the boy's remarks, and would then smilingly repeat them to his sire. The moody king started, listened, smiled, but invariably relapsed as soon as his good angel ceased speaking. Full mournful and significant was that spectacle not the less so because both for the aristocracy and the honest bourgeois of La Basicur, its peculiarity seemed to be wholly invisible. I could not discover that one soul present was either struck or touched and we finished today with something that we're not going to be able to finish completely. It's a Bede's account of the poet Caidmon and it's something that I wanted to do more of at some point I have mentioned that. It's too long to do in its entirety now but let's start it and I'm able to read it because it's out of copyright and it's from the Cook and Tinker book translations from Old English poetry so let's read what Cook and Tinker say This account taken from Bede's Ecclesiastical history of the English people chapter twenty four is absolutely everything that we know of Cademan save for the original text of the verses paraphrased below and known as Cadman's hymn. For the name Cadman see Cook's article in publications of the Modern Language Association of America and Vulca's criticism in Anglia Bablat so here we go there was so this is obviously Bede talking there was in the monastery of this abbess a certain brother especially distinguished by the grace of God since he was wont to make poems breathing of piety and religion. Whatever he learned of sacred scripture by the mouth of interpreters, he in a little time gave forth in poetical language composed with the greatest sweetness and depth of feeling in English his native tongue, and the effect of his poems was ever and anon to incite the souls of many to despise the world and long for the heavenly life. Not but there were others after him among the people of the Angles, who sought to compose religious poetry, but none there who could equal him for he did not learn the art of song from men, nor through the means of any man, rather did he receive it as a free gift from God. Hence it came to pass that he never was able to compose poetry of a frivolous or idle sort, none but such as pertained to religion suited a tongue so religious as his. Living always the life of a layman until well advanced in years, he had never learned the least thing about poetry in fact so little did he understand of it that when at a feast it would be ruled that everyone present should, for the entertainment of the others, sing in turn, he would as soon as he saw the harp coming anywhere near him, jump up from the table in the midst of the banqueting, leave the place and make the best of his way home. This he had done at a certain time, and leaving the house where the feast was in progress, had gone out to the stable where the care of the cattle had been assigned to him for that night. There, when it was time to go to sleep he had laid down for that purpose, but while he slept someone stood by him in a dream, greeted him, called him by his name, and said Cademan, sing me something to this he replied I know not how to sing, and that is the very reason why I left a feast and came here because I could not sing, but the one who was talking with him answered No matter you are to sing to me. Well then said he, what is it that I must sing? Sing, said the other, the beginning of created things and we'll leave it there and thank you so much for joining me today. I'll probably do another episode soon, but I return to Sherbourne tomorrow, so I'm not sure whether there'll be any more recordings from Cornwall, but I send you best wishes and lots of love and huge thanks for joining me yet again for one of my random episodes of this random podcast. Thank you and lots of love. Good night