A Saturday Picnic of Literature: Bede, Brontë, Clare and Pepys

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:45

Hello and welcome to this episode. I'm going to let you hear the Sherban bells at Saturday lunchtime, which probably means someone is going to have lovely weather for their wedding. And in a minute, I will read to you the next chapter of the net. The butterflies are flittering about as I sit in the garden. And we're off tomorrow to Northumberland. The first night we're staying in Hexham. By Hadrian's Wool. And for the remainder of the week, next week, we're staying in the village of Bamboa. Get in touch if you've got any requests, any questions, any anything you want me to photograph or see. Obviously, I can't promise, but I I'll do my best. I love missions, I love adventures, and um. I'm very much looking forward to going to this magical part of the world. Baby blackbirds and baby baby blue tits, and they've all emerged at the same time. And yesterday I had to rescue a baby blackbird who was out by the road. He or she was hobbling, and I noticed that one one of his or her legs was thicker than the other. So there's some kind of growth, I think, on the leg. Alternatively, the other leg hasn't grown properly, so I'm not sure, but I think it's that one leg had some kind of growth. So we we managed to usher it back into the garden, and I saw it this morning hopping about with its parents. And the baby sparrows are darlings. They've been hopping on and off of our bed table, little fluffy balls of brown. And the blue tits are little darlings too, little mix of blue and yellow. Again, all fluffy and tiny, and a magpie has been hovering. But I I well, the husband thinks that the magpie would struggle to get the baby, but I don't know. The magpie beat looks pretty ferocious to me. What do you think of the bells? Do you like them? The bells just say rejoice, don't they? They say joy, they say celebrate, celebrate life. Enjoy this moment, enjoy being alive. It's such a beautiful, distinct sound, but equally the sound of a tolling bell is a very mournful, moving sound, reminding us that as we live, we die. Chapter thirty two The First Letter Where it becomes time to inquire was Paulina Mary, how fared my intercourse with the sumptuous hotel Cressi? That intercourse had for an interval been suspended by absence. Monsieur and Miss de Bazompierre had been travelling, dividing some weeks between the provinces and the capital of France. Chance apprised me of their apprised me of their return very shortly after it took place. I was walking one mild afternoon on a quiet boulevard, wandering slowly on, enjoying the benign April sun, and some thoughts not unpleasing when I saw before me a group of riders stopping as if they had just encountered, and exchanging greetings in the midst of the broad, smooth, linden bordered path, on one side a middle aged gentleman and young lady, on the other a young and handsome man. Very graceful was the lady's mien, choice her appointments, delicate and stately her whole aspect. Still, as I looked, I felt they were known to me, and drawing a little nearer, I fully recognised them all the Count Holme de Bassompierre, his daughter, and Dr. Graham Breton. How animated was Graham's face, how true, how warm, yet how retiring the joy it expressed. This was the state of things, this was the combination of circumstances, at once to attract and in chain, to subdue and excite Dr. John. The pearl he admired was in itself of great price and truest purity, but he was not the man who, in appreciating the gem, could forget its setting. Had he seen Paulina with the same youth, beauty and grace, but on foot, alone unguarded, and in simple attire, a dependent worker, a demi crazette, he would have thought her a pretty little creature, and would have loved with his eye her movements and her mien, but it required other than this to conquer him, as he was now vanquished, to bring him under s him safe under Dominion, as now without loss, and even with gain to his manly honour. One saw that he was reduced. There was about Dr. John all the man of the world. To satisfy himself did not suffice. Society must approve, the world must admire what he did, or he counted his measures false and futile. In his vitrix he required all that was here visible, the imprint of high cultivation, the consecration of a careful and authoritative protection, the adjuncts that fashion decrees, wealth purchases and taste adjusts. For these conditions his spirit stipulated, ere it surrendered, they were here to the utmost fulfilled, and now proud, impassioned, yet fearing, he did homage to Paulina as his sovereign. As for her, the smile of feeling rather than of conscious power slept soft in her eyes. And in this beautiful piece of writing, if you don't mind me interrupting, and I'm so sorry if you do, Charlotte Bronte reveals the key point of difference between the two men. One might be more beautiful, more charming, more attractive, possibly even a a kinder man, but it's the authenticity that she that appeals to her the most. Who is the truest of the men? Who is the most true to himself? Who who would admire a girl or anyone, whether they were rich or poor, who who who who who himself looks for authenticity as the key gem in somebody else? Which of the two men wins that wins that competition? And it's not Dr. John, is it? They parted. He passed me at speed, hardly feeling the earth he skimmed, and seeing nothing on either hand. He looked very handsome, but metal and purpose were roused him in him fully. Papa, there is Lucy, cried a musical friendly voice. Lucy, dear Lucy, do come here. I hastened to her. She threw back her veil and stooped from her saddle to kiss me. I was coming to see you tomorrow, said she, but now tomorrow you will come and see me. She named the hour and I promised compliance. The morrow's evening found me with her, she and I shut into her own room. I had not seen her since that occasion, when her claims were brought into comparison with those of Genevore Fanshaw, and had so signally prevailed. She had much to tell me of her travels in the interval. A most animated, rapid speaker was she, in such a tete, a most lively describer. Yet with her artless addiction and clear, soft voice, she never seemed to speak too fast or say too much. My own attention, I think, would not soon have flagged, but by and by she herself seemed to need some change of subject. She hastened to wind up her narrative briefly. Yet why she terminated with so concise an abridgment did not immediately appear. Silence followed, a restless silence, not without symptoms of abstraction. Then, turning to me in a diffident, half appealing voice, Lucy Well, I am at your side. Is my cousin Ginevra still at Madame Beck's? Your cousin is still there. You must be longing to see her. No, not much. You want to invite her to spend another evening? No. I suppose she still talks about being married not to anyone you care for. But of course she still thinks of Dr. Bratton. She cannot have changed her mind on that point because it was so fixed two months ago. Why, you know, it does not matter. You saw the terms on which they stood. There was a little misunderstanding that evening, certainly. Does she seem unhappy? Not she. To change the subject, have you heard or seen nothing of or of Graham since your absence? Papa had letters from him once or twice about business, I think. He undertook the management of some affair which required attention while you were away. Dr. Breton seems to respect papa and to have pleasure in obliging him. Yes, you met him yesterday on the boulevard. You were able to judge from his aspect that his friends need not be painfully anxious about his health. Papa seems to have thought with you. I could not help smiling. He is not particularly observant, you know, because he is often thinking of other things than what really pass before his eyes, but he said, as Dr. Breton rode away, really it does a man good to see the spirit and energy of that boy. He called Dr. Breton a boy. I believe he almost thinks him so, just as he thinks me a little girl. He was not speaking to me but dropped that remark to himself. Lucy again fell that appealing accent, and at the same instant she left her chair and came and sat on the stool at my feet. I liked her. It is not a declaration I have made often concerning my acquaintance in the course of this book. The reader will bear with it for once. Intimate intercourse, close inspection, disclosed in Paulina only what was delicate, intelligent and sincere. Therefore my regard for her lay deep. An admiration more superficial might have been more demonstrative. Mine, however, was quiet. What have you to ask of Lucy? said I. As it fell m as it met mine it fell, and there was no coolness on her cheek, not a transient surface blush, but a gathering inward excitement raised its tint and its temperature. Lucy, I do wish to know your thoughts of Dr. Breton. Do do give me your real opinion of his character. His disposition his character stands high and deservedly high. And his disposition? Tell me about his disposition she urged. You know him well. I know him pretty well. You know him homeside. You have seen him with his mother. Speak of him as a son. He is a fine hearted son, his mother's comfort and hope, her pride and pleasure. She held my hand between hers, and at each favourable word, gave it a little caressing stroke. In what other way is he good, dear Lucy? Dr. Breton is benevolent, humanely disposed towards all his race. Dr. Breton would have benignity for the lowest savage or the worst criminal. I heard some gentlemen, some of Papa's friends, who were talking about him, say the same. They say many of the poor patients at the hospitals, who tremble before some pitiless and selfish surgeons welcome him. They are right. I have witnessed as much. He once took me over a hospital, and I saw how he was received. Your father's friends are right. The softest gratitude animated her eye, and she lifted it a moment. She had yet more to say, but seemed hesitating about time and place. Dusk was beginning to rain. Her parlour fire already glowed with twilight ruddiness, but I thought she wished the room dimmer, the hour later. How quiet and secluded we feel here, I remarked, to reassure her. Do we? Yes, it is a still evening, and I shall not be called down to tea. Papa is dining out. Still holding my hand, she played with the fingers unconsciously, dressed them now in her own rings, and now circled them with a twine of her beautiful hair. She patted the palm against her hot cheek, and at last having cleared a voice that was naturally liquid as a lark's, she said you must think it rather strange that I talk so much about Dr. Breton and ask so many questions take with such an interest but not at all strange, but perfectly natural you like him. And if I did, said she, with a slight quickness, is that a reason why I should talk? I suppose you suppose you think me weak, like my cousin Ginevra. If I thought you one whit like Madame Ginevre, I would not sit here waiting for your communications. I would get up, walk at my ease about the room and anticipate all you had to say by a round lecture. Go on. I mean to go on, retorted she. What else do you suppose I mean to do? And she looked and spoke. The little Polly of Breton petulant, sensitive. If, she said emphatically, if I liked Dr. John till I was fit to die for liking him, that alone could not license me to be otherwise than dumb. Dumb as the grave, dumb as you, Lucy Snow. You know it, and you know you would despise me if I failed in self control and whined about some rickety liking that was all on my side. It is true I little respect women or girls who are loquacious either in boasting the triumphs or bemoaning the mortifications of feeling. But as to you, Paulina, speak, for I earnestly wish to hear you. Tell me all it'll give you pleasure or relief to tell. I ask no more. Do you care for me, Lucy? Yes, I do, Paulina. And I love you. I had an odd content in being with you even when I was a little, troublesome, disobedient girl. It was charming f to me then, to lavish on you my naughtiness and whims. Now you are acceptable to me, and I and I like to talk with you and trust you. So listen, Lucy and she settled herself, resting against my arm, resting gently, not with honest mis Mistress Fanshaw's fatiguing and selfish weight. A few minutes since you asked whether or not we'd heard from Graham during our absence, and I said there were two letters for papa on business. That was true, but I did not tell you all. You evaded? I is shuffled and equivocated, you know. However, I'm going to speak the truth now. It is getting darker. One can talk at one's ease. Papa often lets me open the letter bag and give him out the contents. One morning, about three weeks ago, you don't know how surprised I was to find, among a dozen letters from Monsieur de Bazampierre, a note addressed to Mr Bazampierre. I spied it at once amidst the rest. The handwriting was not strange, and it attracted me directly. I was going to say, Papa, here is another letter from Dr. Braton, but the miss struck me mute. I actually never received a letter from a gentleman before. Ought I have showed it to papa and let him open it and read it first? I could not for my life, Lucy. I know so well. Papa's ideas about me. He forgets my age, and he thinks I'm a mere schoolgirl. He is not aware that other people see I am grown up as tall as I shall be. So with a curious mixture of feelings, some of them self reproachful, and some so flattering and strong I cannot describe them, I gave papa his twelve letters, his herd of possessions, and kept back my one, my you lamb. It lay in my lap during breakfast, looking up at me with an inexplicable meaning, making me feel myself a thing double existent, a child. That dear papa, but no more a child to myself. After breakfast I carried my letter upstairs, and having secured myself by turning the key in the door, I began to study the outside of my treasure. It was some minutes before I could get over the direction and penetrate the seal. One does not take a strong place of this kind by instant storm. One sits down awhile before it, as beleaguers say. Graham's hand is like himself, Lucy, and so is his seal, all clear, firm and rounded, no slovenly splash of wax, a full, solid, steady drop, a distinct impress, no pointed turns harshly pricking the optic nerve, but a clean, mellow, pleasant manuscript that soothes you as you read. It is like his face, just like the chiseling of his features. Do you know of his autograph? Oh I have seen it. Go on. The seal was too beautiful to be broken, so I cut it round with my scissors. On the point of reading the letter at last, I once more drew back voluntarily. It was too soon yet to drink that draught. The sparkle in the cup was so beautiful. I would watch it yet a minute. Then I remembered all at once that I had not said my prayers that morning. Having heard papa go down to breakfast a little earlier than usual, I had been afraid of keeping him waiting, and had hastened to join him as soon as dressed, thinking no harm to put off prayers till afterwards. Some people would say I ought to have served God first and then man, but I don't think heaven could be jealous of anything I might do for papa. I believe I'm superstitious. A voice seemed now to say that another feeling than filial affection was in question, to urge me to pray before I dared to read what I so longed to read, to deny myself yet a moment, and remember first a great duty. I have had these impulses ever since I can remember. I put the letter down and said my prayers, adding at the end a strong entreaty that whatever happened, I might not be tempted or lead to cause papa any sorrow, and might never in caring for others neglect him. The very thought of such a possibility so pierced my heart that it made me cry, but still, Lucy, I felt that in time papa would have to would have to be taught the truth, managed and induced to hear reason. I read the letter, Lucy, life is said to be all disappointment. I was not disappointed. Ere I read and while I read, my heart did more than throb, it trembled fast, every quiver seemed like the pant of an animal athirst, laid down at a well and drinking, and the well proved quite full, gloriously clear. It rose up munificently of its own impulse. I saw the sun through its gush, and not a moat Lucy, no moss, no insect, no atom in the thrice refined golden gurgle. Life, she went on, is said to be full of pain to some. I have read biographies where the wayfarer seemed to journey on from suffering to suffering, where hope flew before him fast, never alighting so near or lingering so long as to give his hand a chance of one realizing grasp. I have read of those who sowed in tears, and whose harvest so far from being reaped in joy, perished by untimely blight, or was borne off by sudden whirlwind, and alas, some of these met the winter with empty garners and died of utter want in the darkest and coldest of the year. Was it their fault, Paulina, that they of whom you speak thus died? Not always of their fault, some of them were good endeavouring people. I am not endeavouring, nor actively good, yet God has caused me to grow in the sun, due moisture and safe protection, sheltered, fostered, taught by my dear father, and now another comes. Graham loves me. For some minutes we both paused on this climax. Does your father know? I inquired in a low voice. Graham spoke with deep respect of papa, but implied that he dared not approach that quarter as yet. He must first prove his worth. He added that he must have some light respecting myself and my own feelings ere he ventured to risk a step in the matter elsewhere. How did you reply? I replied briefly, but I did not repulse him. Yet I almost trembled for fear of making the answer too cordial. Graham's tastes are so fastidious. I wrote it three times, chastening and subduing the phrases at every rescript, at last, having confected it till it seemed to me to resemble a morsel of ice flavoured with ever so slight a zest of fruit or sugar, I ventured to seal and dispatch it. Excellent, Paulina, your instinct is fine, you understand, doctor Breton. But how must I manage without papa? There I am still in pain. Do not manage at all. Wait now, only maintain no further correspondence till your father knows all and gives his sanction. Will he ever give it? Time will show. Wait. Dr. Breton wrote one other letter, deeply grateful for my calm, brief note, but I anticipated your advice by saying that while my sentiments continued the same, I could not, without my father's knowledge, write again. You acted as you ought to have done, so doctor Breton will feel it'll increase his pride in you, his love for you, if either be capable of increase. Paulina, that gentle hoarfrost of yours, surrounding so much pure, fine flame, is a priceless privilege of nature. You see, I feel Graham's disposition, said she, I feel that no delicacy can be too exquisite for his treatment. It is perfectly proved that you comprehend him, and then whatever doctor Breton's disposition, were he one who expected to be more nearly met, you would still act truthfully, openly, tenderly with your father. Lucy, I trust I shall always act thus. Oh it will be pain to wake papa from his dream and tell him I am no more a little girl. Be in no hurry to do so, Paulina. Leave the revelation to time and your kind fate. I have also noticed the gentleness of her cares for you. Doubt not she will benignantly order the circumstances and fitly appoint the hour. Yes, I have thought over your life just as you yourself have thought it over. I have made comparisons like those to which you were adverted. We know not the future, but the past has been propitious. As a child I feared for you, nothing that life was ever more susceptible than in your nature in infancy, under harshness or neglect, neither your outward nor your inward self would have ripened to what they are now. Much pain, much fear, much struggle would have troubled the very lines of your features, broken their regularity, and would have harassed your nerves into the fervor of habitual irritation. You would have lost in health and cheerfulness, in grace and sweetness. Providence has protected and cultured you, not only for your own sake, but I believe for Graham's. His star too was fortunate. To develop fully the best of his nature, a companion like you was needed. There you are, ready. You must be united. I knew it the first day I saw you together at La Terras. In all that mutually concerns you and Graham, there seems to me promise, plan and harmony. I do not think the sunny youth of either will prove the forerunner of stormy age. I think it is deemed good that you two should live in peace and be happy, not as angels, but as few are happy amongst mortals. Some lives are thus blessed. It is God's will, it is the attesting trace and lingering evidence of Eden. Other lives run from the first another course. Other travellers encounter weather fitful and gusty, wild and variable. Breast adverse winds are blated and overtaken by the early closing winter night. Neither can this happen without the sanction of God, and I know that, amidst his boundless works, is somewhere stored the secret of this late fate's justice. I know that his treasures contain the proof as the promise of its mercy. And that closes that chapter. And the next chapter begins the next chapter is called Monsieur Poul Keeps His Promise and starts on the first of May. We had all, i.e. the twenty borders and the four teachers, notice to rise at five o'clock of the morning, and I'll leave Villette at that for the moment. A vision by John Clare. I lost the love of heaven above, I spurned the lust of earth below, I felt the sweets of fancied love and hell itself my only foe. I lost earth's joys but felt the glow of heaven's flame abound in me, till loveliness and I did grow the bard of immortality. I loved but woman fell away, I hid me from her faded fame, I snatched the sun's eternal ray, and wrote till earth was but a name. In every language upon earth, on every shore, o' every sea, I gave my name immortal birth, and kept my spirit with the free And sonnet The flagtop quivers in the breeze that sighs among the willow trees, in gentle waves the river heaves that sways like boats the lily leaves, the bent grass trembles as with cold and crow flowers nod their cups of gold, till every dew drop in them found Is gently shook upon the ground, each wild weed by the river side in different motions dignified, boughs to the wind, quakes to the breeze and charms sweet summer's harmonies, the very nettle quakes away to glad the summer's happy day. And finally, summer moods I love at even tide to walk alone down narrow lanes o'er hung with dewy thorn, where from the long grass underneath The snail jet black creeps out and sprouts his timid horn. I love to muse o'er meadows newly moan, where withering grass perfumes the sultry air, Where bees search round with sad and weary drone in vain for flowers that bloomed but newly there, while in the juicy corn the hidden quail cries wet my foot and hid as thoughts unborn, the fairy like, and seldom seen land rail utters great great like voices underground, right glad to meet the evening's dewy vale, and see the light fade into glooms around. And now we resume Samuel Peeps' diary The February February twenty fourth, which is Ash Wednesday sixteen sixty four, up and by the water, it being a very fine morning, to Whitehall and there to speak with Sir Philip Warwick, but he was gone out to chapel, so I spent much of the morning walking in the park and going to the Queen's chapel, where I stayed and saw their mass, till a man came and bid me go out or kneel down, so I did go out, and thence to Somerset House and there into the chapel, where Monsieur Despagne used to preach, but now it is made very fine, and was ten times more crowded than the Queen's chapel at St. James's, which I wonder at. Thence down to the garden at Somerset House and up and down the new building, which in every respect will be mighty magnificent and costly. I stayed a great while talking with the man in the garden that was sawing a piece of marble, and did give him sixpence to drink. He told me much of the nature and labour of that work, how he could not saw above four inches of the stone in a day, and of a greater not above one or two, and after it was sawed then it is rubbed with coarse, and then with finer and finer sand till they come to putty, and so polish it as smooth as glass. Their saws have no teeth, but it is the sand only which the saw rubs up and down that doth the thing, thence by water to the coffee house, and there sat long with Aldman Barker, talking of hemp and that trade, and thence to the change a little, and so home and dined with my wife, and then to the office till the evening, and then walked awhile merrily with my wife in the garden, and so she gone, I to work again till late, and so home to supper and to bed twenty fifth Up unto the office where we sat and thence with Mr Coventry by coach to the glass house, and there dined, and both before and after did my Lord Peterborough's accounts, thence home to the office, and there did business, till called by Creed, and with him by coach, setting my wife at my brother's, to my lords and saw the young ladies, and talked a little with them, and thence to Whitehall awhile, talking but doing no business, but resolved of going to meet my lord tomorrow, having got a horse of Mr Coventry today, so home taking up my wife, and after doing something at my office, home, God forgive me, disturbed in mind out of my jealousy of my wife to morrow when I am out of town, which is a hell to my mind, and yet without all reason. God forgive me for it and mend me. So home and getting my things ready for my journey and to bed twenty sixth. Up and after dressing myself handsomely for riding, I out and by water to Westminster, to Mr Creed's chamber, and after drinking some chocolate and playing on the vial, Mr Mallard being there upon Creed's new vial, which proves methinks much worse than mine, and looking upon his new contrivance of a desk and shelves for books, we set out from an inn hard by, whither Mr Coventry's horse was carried, and around about the bush through bad ways to Highgate, good discourse in the way had between us, and it being all day a most admirable pleasant day, we, upon consultation, had stopped at the cock, a mile at this side of Barnet, being unwilling to put ourselves to the charge of doubtful acceptance of any provision against my lord's coming by, and there got something and dined, setting a boy to look towards Barnet Hill against their coming, and after two or three false alarms they came, and we met the coach very gracefully, and I had a kind receipt from both Lord and Lady as I could wish, and some kind discourse, and then rode by the coach a good way, and so fell to discoursing with several of the people there, being a dozen attending the coach, and another coach for the maids and parson, among others talking with William Howe, he told me how my lord, in his hearing the other day, did largely tell my lord Peterborough and Povey, who went with them down to Hinchingbrook, how and when he discarded Creed and took me to him, and that since the Duke of York hath several times thanked him for me, which did not a little please me, and anon I desiring Mr Howe to tell me upon what occasion this discourse happened, he desired me to say nothing of it now, for he would not have my lord to take notice of our being together, but he would tell me another time, which put me into some trouble to think what he meant by it, but when we came to my lord's house I went in, and whether it was my lord's neglect or general indifference I know not, but he made me no kind of compliment there, and methinks the young ladies looked somewhat highly upon me, so I went away without bidding adieu to anybody, being desirous not to be thought too servile, but I do hope and believe that my lord doth yet value me as high as ever, though he dares not admit me to the freedom he once did, and that my lady is still the same woman. So rode home and there found my uncle White. 'Tis an odd thing as my wife tells me, his caressing her and coming on purpose to give her visits, but I do not trouble myself for him at all, but hope the best and very good effects of it. He being gone I eat something with my wife. I told all this days behave myself to my lord and his family, by slighting everybody but my lord and lady, and not to seem to have the least society or fellowship with them, which I'm resolved to do, knowing that it is my high carriage that must do me good there, and to appear in good clothes and garb, to the office a little, and being weary, early home and to bed. And finally for today we read Bede Book one, chapter one The Situation of Britain and Ireland, their earliest inhabitants. Britain, formerly known as Albion, is an island in the ocean facing between north and west, and lying at a considerable distance from the coasts of Germany, Gaul, and Spain, which together form the greater part of Europe. It extends eight hundred miles northwards and is two hundred in breadth except where a number of promontories stretch further, the coastline round which extends to three thousand six hundred and seventy-six miles. To the south lies Belgique Gaul, from the nearest shore of which travellers can see the city known as Rutubi Portus, which the English have corrupted to Reptachesta, also known as Richborough. The distance from there across to the sea at Gessoriacum, or Boulogne, the nearest coast of the Morini, is fifty miles or as some write it, four hundred and fifty furlongs. On the opposite side of Britain, which lies open to the boundless ocean, lie the Isles of the Orcades or the Orkneys. Britain is rich in grain and timber. It has good pastures for cattle and draught. Animals and vines are cultivated in various localities. There are many land and sea birds of various species, and it is well known for its plentiful springs and rivers abounding in fish. There are salmon and eel fisheries, white seals, dolphins, and sometimes whales are caught. There are also many varieties of shellfish, such as mush mussels, in which are often found excellent pearls of several colours, red, purple, violet and green, but mainly white. Cockles are abundant and a beautiful scarlet dye is extracted from them, which remains unfaded by sunshine or rain. Indeed, the older the cloth, the more beautiful its colour. The country hath both salt and hot springs, and the waters flowing from them provide hot baths in which the people bathe separately according to age and sex. As St. Basil says, water receives its heat when it flows across certain metals and becomes hot and even scalding. The land has rich veins of many metals, including copper, iron, lead and silver. There is also much jet of fine quality, a black jewel which can be set on fire, and when burned drives away snakes, and like amber when it is warmed by friction, it clings to whatever it is applied to. In old times the country had twenty eight noble cities, and innumerable castles, all of which were guarded by walls, towers, and barred gates. Since Britain lies far north towards the pole, the nights are short in summer, and at midnight it is hard to tell whether the evening twilight still lingers or whether dawn is approaching, for in these northern latitudes the sun does not remain long below the horizon at night. Consequently both summer days and winter nights are long, and when the sun withdraws southwards, the winter nights last eighteen hours, whereas the summer nights and winter days are very short and last only six hours. In Armenia, Macedonia and Italy, and other countries of that latitude the longest day lasts only fifteen hours, and the shortest nine. At the present time there are in Britain in harmony with the five books of the divine law, five languages and four nations English, British, Scots, and Picts. Each of these have their own language, but all are united in their study of God's truth by the fifth Latin, which has become a common medium through the study of the scriptures. The original inhabitants of the island were the Britons, from whom it takes its name, and who, according to tradition, crossed into Britain from Armorica, modern brackets or Brittany, and occupied the southern parts. When they had spread northwards and possessed the greater part of the island, it is said that some pits from Scythia, brackets Scandinavia, those modern brackets, put to sea in a few long ships. And were driven by storms around the coasts of Britain, arriving at length on the north coast of Ireland. Here they found the nation of the Scots, from whom they asked permission to settle, but their request was refused. Ireland is the largest island after Britain and lies to the west. It is shorter than Britain to the north, but extends far beyond it to the south, towards the northern coasts of Spain, although a wide sea separates them. These Pictish seafarers, as I have said, asked for a grant of land to make a settlement. The Scots replied that there was not room for them both, but said we can give you good advice. There is another island not far to the east, which we often see in the distance on clear days. Go and settle there if you wish. Should you meet resistance, we will come to your help. So the Picts crossed into Britain and began to settle in the north of that island, since the Britons were in possession of the south. Having no women with them, these Picts asked wives of the Scots, who consented on the condition that when any dispute arose they should choose a king from the female royal line, rather than the male. This custom continues among the Picts to this day. As time went on, Britain received a third nation, that of the Scots, who migrated from Ireland under their chieftain Reuda, and by a combination of force and treaty obtained from the Picts the settlements that they still hold. From the name of this chieftain they are still known as the Dal Reudans, for in their tongue Dal means a division. Ireland is more favoured than Britain by latitude and by its mild and healthy climate. Snow rarely lies longer than three days, so that there is no need to store hay in summer for winter use or to build stables for beasts. There are no reptiles and no snake can exist there, for although often brought over from Britain, as soon as the ship lears land, they breathe its scented air and die. In fact, almost everything in this isle confers immunity to poison, and I have heard that folk suffering from snake bite have drunk water in which scrapings from the leaves of books from Ireland have been steeped, and that this remedy checked the spreading poison and reduced the swelling. The island abounds in milk and honey. And there is no lack of vines, fish and birds, while the deer and goats are widely hunted. It is the original home of the Scots, who as already mentioned, later migrated and joined the Britons and Picts in Britain. There is a very extensive arm of the sea which originally formed this boundary between the Britons and the Picts. This runs inland from the west for a great distance as far as the strongly fortified British city of Alquith or Dumbarton. It was to the northern shores of this firth that the Scots came and established their new homeland. And I wish you a very good Saturday evening, and tomorrow we're off to the first part of our adventures where we where we go and stay very near to Halifax, which is close to the Hadrian's Wall. So I look forward to recording from there tomorrow and bringing you with me, and I hope you'll enjoy the holiday with me and lit listen as we see what we can see. A very good evening and thanks for being my companion and friend, and a very good night. Good night.