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#bernard: aw he drew us ^^

keelywolfe · 4 years

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Drabble: No Hard Felines (baon)

Summary: Sans knew living with Red wasn't going to be all shits and giggles, but he wasn't expecting this flavor of bullshit on the menu.

Tags: Kustard, Fluff (as fluffy as these two get), Some Sexy Teasing

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Despite his bro’s reassurances that Sans was making the right move, (and he still wasn’t convinced, leaving Paps while he was still wobbly on wheels after that attack was sticking in his craw like a fishbone on steroids) Sans still knew there were gonna be, eh, challenges was a good a word as any and sounded better than bitchfest.

What he hadn’t figured on was an ongoing war with a fucking cat over a sofa.

Sans didn’t know a whole lot about cats. His experience was limited to Cat Monsters and Temmies, all of whom could be expected to act reasonably decent and not shred a t-shirt just as it was getting into the comfortably overworn stage where even washing with Tide didn’t get out all the stink.

Damn cat, Sans really liked that shirt and if he wore in now, all he’d need was leather pants and some glitter eyeshadow and he could join a punk band.

Socks vanished wholesale before anyone even had a chance to put down a sticky note. Someday, somewhere, a sock graveyard would be found, and the haunting stench would follow whoeverso discovered it to the end of their days.

Anyway.

Sans didn’t know shit about cats, but what he did know was that he was already sick of living with the cat and hadn’t even properly moved in yet.

Dogs at least could be put on a chain and sent outside to sleep for a while. Red didn’t let Ozzy out, said he was all indoor cat, all the time, which was probably for the best because the little shit would probably decimate the local bird population overnight. Red said he was probably a mixed breed and Sans agreed with that assessment; half cougar, half pain in his tailbone. That little kitten grew to the size of a small Saint Bernard and didn’t even have the grace to wear that little collar with booze barrel on it. Being able to take a slug or two anytime he was around the little shit would be about the only thing to endear Sans to it.

What did not endear him was the fucking brat stalking him every time he walked around the house. It would wait, staring out from the shadows until Sans let his guard down by some minuscule fraction and then it would lunge out and try to take a chunk out of his ankle before scrambling off to the next stalking checkpoint. It was a good thing his HP took an upward hike when they came to the surface because dusting by ankle attack was exactly the kind of humiliating death Sans would expect the universe to have out for him.

If it wasn’t hiding, it was on the sofa, busy taking up as much sitting room as possible and that left them here, the two of them staring at each other like gunslingers in the old west, waiting to see who drew first and all Sans was armed with was a pillow.

Sure, Sans could go sleep upstairs in the bed. Hell, he could sleep on the floor if he wasn’t worried about not being able to peel himself off of the carpet later. But it was the principle of the thing. He was moving in, you gotta start as you intend to go on, and Sans intended to go on sleeping on the sofa whenever it took his fancy. Starting now.

“okay, look, cat,” Sans said. He held up his pillow, his only line of defense. “i’m gonna lay down on this side of the sofa. you stay on that side and things’ll go fine, you get me?”

The cat didn’t say anything, which was fine because if he’d started singing ‘hello my baby’, Sans was moving back in with Paps. Instead, it stared at him with those all-seeing eyes, ugh, no wonder Stretch hated cats. Sans was more used to being on the other side of that look and that’s where he preferred to stay, thanks.

If Ozzy was waiting for him to blink first, he was going to be sitting there until reveille because if there was one thing that skeletons didn’t technically have to do, it was blink. Sans moved slowly, first setting his pillow against the sofa arm and then easing onto the seat cushion. He lay back, still meeting that unblinking stare, waiting to see if his socks were gonna take the punishment for his hubris.

Ozzy yawned, showing a row of teeth that were remarkably similar to their owner. He blinked slowly, once, twice, and didn’t move an inch.

Sans relaxed, leaning back into the pillow and muttered, “just don’t murder me in my sleep.”

He was about halfway down the path into the land of nod when an unexpected weight in his lap jostled him back awake. Sans opened his sockets and looked down in disbelief at the cat loaf settled right on top of his femurs. Loaf, hell, the damn thing was the size of a furry watermelon, eyes closed and rustling up what Sans guessed might qualify as a rusty purr. Or an electronic can opener freshly liberated from the dump, either worked.

“okay, i know it looks like i’m melding into the sofa, but i’m not actually part of it. get off.” Ozzy didn’t move, still purring along. “c’mon, move, you furry brick!”

That purr rose threateningly in volume to something right below a chainsaw and Sans was trying to decide what finger he was willing to lose to push the damn thing off of him when from behind came. “see, you two are getting along just swell.”

He craned his neck enough to see Red leaning against the doorjamb leading to the would-be kitchen, if it ever got anything resembling appliances. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, whatever, Paps and Edge always had plenty of goods in the fridge and it tasted a lot better than whatever concoction either of them tried to rustle up.

“oh, yeah, we’re old pals,” Sans drawled irritably, “don’t worry, pretty sure all the scratches’ll heal over eventually and probably won’t leave too many scars.”

“good, i hate to mess up that pretty face. g’wan, oz, you’re in my seat.” Red wandered over to shove the cat off and instead of taking off a limb, it only let out an offended meow and went to loom like a resentful gargoyle on the recliner. Red took his spot and he was only a little lighter but a helluva lot more welcome to be straddling Sans’s femurs. Red squirmed, grinding their pelvises together until Sans grabbed his hips and stilled him, clenching his teeth together around a groan.

“wellie well well,” Red murmured. His crimson eye lights gleamed mellowly, his grin wide, and the way he ran his thumb lightly along the line of Sans's collar dragged a shiver up from the depths of his soul. Somebody was in a good mood. How kind of him to share it. “feels like you might be a lil’ happy ta see me.”

“it’s a pencil in my pocket.”

“yeah, feels about the right size for it.”

Whatever retort Sans might’ve come up for that was muffled under Red’s mouth against his own and those razor teeth of Red’s never left behind too many scars, either.

Welp, so much for the nap. Sans did crack open one socket to look around even as Red’s hands were starting to test the theory of just what kind of pencil Sans was smuggling. The cat was pointedly not looking at them and Sans smirked against Red’s mouth.

Take that, you furry little interloper, put a point on Sans’s side of the scoreboard.

Then he bit off a yelp as a clawed finger ran deliberately down his femur, hard enough to draw a beaded line of marrow. He shifted his glare to Red, who cooed out, “aw, do i have your attention now?”

“undivided and multiplied, if you wanna do the math.”

“i leave the math to stretch, now are you gonna get in the game?”

“yeah, let me get the ball.” It was Red’s turn to yelp as Sans cupped a hand firmly between his legs. Pretty soon Sans was forgetting all about the cat, because this, yeah, hell yeah, this was why moving in was the right idea.

Besides, the battle for the sofa always worked better when it was two against one, and Sans wanted Red against him for a long damn time.

-finis-

#kustard #spicyhoney #sancest #keelywolfe #underfell #underfell sans #by any other name

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angerinthenation · 3 years

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Black Massacres: America’s Shameful Past

A commentary by Idris Salaam

- 1863 New York: New York City Draft riots. - 1866 Memphis - 1866 New Orleans - 1868 St. Bernard Parrish - 1868 Camila, GA - 1868 Opelousas, LA: In 1868, Republicans won the overall election. This was due to the votes of recently freed black men. With this, the Democratic Party was losing its power in politics whether they be at the local or state level. The anger of the Knights of the White Camellia, a group formed to stop the Republican Party, began to show violent force against any black person they came into contact with. Although the Knights were not the Ku Klux Klan, they stood by the same values of their white-hooded counterparts. They were seen as a heavily grouped organization in which it was written that one in four whites were members. As Election time drew close, The Knights went on a rampage. This began with a newspaper editor being beaten. When black came to his aid, they were immediately arrested. But before a trial, they were lynched. During the evening, any black person found was murdered right away. When the carnage ended, 200-300 blacks were killed. Even with the murders, Ulysses Grant (R) won the election against Horatio Seymour and Francis Blair, both anti-black contenders.

- 1868 Wilmington Insurrection: Wilmington, North Carolina aw close to 2,000 white men on a rampage when they burned The Daily Record newspaper company. This didn’t stop as the very next day they took their rampage through the city telling Blacks to leave. If they didn’t leave they were subsequently murdered. After the deaths of up to 60 Black People, the mob proceeded to force a Government official to resign... at gun point, mind you. Days before going on a rampage and putting their own leadership in place, the Leader stated he would “Choke The Current of Cape Fear with Black Bodies.” This was the only coup d’état on American soil. It was done because the city council of Wilmington was interracial. Some of the tactics used to form this mob was claiming that back men were preying on white women. - 1873 Colfax, LA: 7 Years after the Civil War, a period where they said was a “Great Period For Blacks”, 150 Black Men and Women were murdered with guns and cannons for trying to assemble at the courthouse. Many of the uncounted bodies were thrown into the Red River. - 1874 Eufsula, AL - 1874 Vicksburg, AK - 1875 Clinton, AK - 1887 Thibodaux, LA - 1896 Jim Crow Laws begins - 1898 Wilmington, Delaware: Whites marched through the city, exiling Black citizens and killing those unwilling to leave. - 1906 Atlanta - 1908 Springfield - 1910 Slocum, LA - 1917 East St. Louis - 1919 Elaine, AK: Seen as “Red Summer”, black soldiers were adjusting to living the life as civilians upon returning from the first World War. Civil Rights Activist W.E.B. DuBois stated: “We are cowards and jackasses if now that the war is over, we do not marshal every ounce of our brain and brawn to fight a sterner, longer, more unbending battle against the forces of hell in our own land.” With that, many black men returning from war were no longer wiling to live under Jim Crows Laws. This infuriated whites, causing them to prey upon blacks with violence, especially those who served time during the war. With demographics changing in part because of the Great Migration, violence became a huge problem in small towns such as Elaine, Arkansas... which was the largest instance of violence. Veterans fought back, with the help of non-veterans. Those who weren’t killed were captured, forced to do false confessions and then murdered. They would later known as the Elaine 12. Over a span of 72 hours, Black sharecroppers, who were trying to improve their conditions were beaten and lynched. In the end of it all, over 200 black men, women and children were murdered. - 1919 Chicago: 200+ Black people were killed and thousands of Black homes were looted and damaged. - 1919 Washington – 1920 Ocoee: A relatively wealthy African-American man named Mose Norman tried to vote but was turned away. Members of the KKK even took a gun away from him, a weapon he had brought to protect himself, and ordered him to go home. Later that day, a mob of whites, many of them KKK members, traversed the black neighborhoods looking for Norman before eventually deciding to head to the home of another prominent black man: July Perry. Eventually, they captured him, lynched him and burned his neighborhood down. The terror wrought by the mob was so great that Ocoee turned into an all-white town for decades. During the 1920 census, around 500 black people called Ocoee home; in 1940, 1950, 1960 and 1970, every census taken revealed there to be no black citizens at all. .– 1921Tulsa’s Greenwood neighborhood was once the wealthiest Black community in the country, earning it the moniker of “Black Wall Street.” In 1921, it was bombed, burning it to the ground and leaving up to 300 dead. It all began when a 17 year old white girl accused a Black teen of assault. Estimated total: 10,000 whites - 1923 Rosewood: Like Tulsa, an entire community was burned to the ground. This also began with a white woman accusing Sam carter, a black locksmith of assault. He was executed and his body, mutilated, was hung from a tree for all to see. He was one of an estimated 150 that were killed. - 1935 Redlining begins - 1943 Detroit- 1963 Alabama - 1963 The Southern Strategy begins - 1965 Jim Crow Laws ends - 1968 Redlining ends with the Fair Housing Act - 1972 The Southern Strategy Ends - 1985 Philadelphia – In 2015, a lone white supremacist in Charleston entered one of the country’s oldest Black churches and shot 10 worshipers in cold blood. With all of these massacres, show me in history where Black People have burned down an entire white community. When was America Great?

#Amerikkka #amerikkkan korruption #Amerikkka the land of racist #Black massacres #make america great again #Trump #donald trump #racism #bigotry in America #black lives matter #white supremacy #white fragility #Amerikkan Corruption #Amerikka's corruption #Amerikkan history #american hostory

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charlottecollerson · 5 years

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World War I and Australian Art: Fighting for art in Australia

World War I had a significant impact on Australian society, being the first international war Australia would engage in on its’ own accord. The way in which this affected society’s function and Australia’s relationship with the world was profound. The art world, so inherently intertwined, held a mirror up to society during this time, reflecting this change. Socially, culturally, and economically, Australia had changed and many of these artists at the time were embracing this change, as well as the new influence of Modernism coming from across the world. However, some artists and art critics were hesitant to accept this change due to the nature of the works and the artists creating them. Within this essay, social, cultural, political, and economic influences within the interwar period will be examined to understand how Australian Modernism was shaped during this time.

Post World War I, women had been brought into the forefront of society, entering the workforce and other roles in greater numbers than ever before. With many male artists fighting overseas, women also documented the war from home, painting the strange world that was Australia during WWI. During the period of early modernism in Australian art, women were largely pioneering the movement (Hoorn 1992). The movement was dismissed as frivolous and lacking in talent due to this fact and many male artists neglected to engage in modernist techniques until the mid 1930s. In the words of art historian, Bernard Smith, ‘women played a greater part in forming contemporary taste in Australia than they have before or since’ (Williams 1995). Grace Cossington’s works examine women’s existence within the domestic sphere from a female perspective (Hoorn 1992) Women were central to Australian Modernism and the lack of appreciation of women as artists and proponents of a central art movement somewhat allowed female Modernists to develop in a way male artists could not (Hoorn 1992). Grace Cossington honed her skills in Post-Impressionism during the early 1900s, painting images of Australian life at the time. She gave scenes life, movement, stillness, and emotion, but neglected depth and instead opted for a flat plane existence for the image. The prince (1920) (Figure 1) shows what would be imagined as an extravagant scene, instead opting for the focus to be on the fact is a perspective, a little person in the crowd looking on, out of focus. Cossington did this in stark contrast to the way Australians had painted these scenes prior to Modernism. Cossington’s paintings, along with many other women’s, identified themselves as Modernist while straying from the masculine narrative Modernism is so often imagined as (Hoorn 1992).

Following WWI, Australia and the world’s economy was thriving. Companies had many new inventions and plenty of public interest to back them. Australians were thrilled about the modernisation of domestic life. The new technology and opportunity changed lives and created a sense of excitement. Artists depicted this in their works, this new economic climate, along with development that came with it (Coppel 1995). Many artists had moved to Sydney from Melbourne, the former hub of artistic expression within Australia, and others moved overseas to experience the works of other Modernist painters in Europe (Speck 2014). The development in Sydney became a focus for a lot of artists and The Sydney Harbour Bridge was one of these developments. Dorrit Black’s painting The Bridge (1930) (Figure 2) drew controversy over its unconventional nature. Her somewhat Cubist approach to perspective was unlike any depiction of Australian landscape or cityscape before it. Having moved to London in the 1920s, she had witnessed new ways of depicting landscape and colour (Speck 2014). Another symbol of the new technology emerging was the linocut. Claude Flight, a pioneer of the linocut print, believed modern art should ‘reflect the energy of the modern age’ (Leaper 2016). Those influenced by him included Margaret Preston who famously produced works of Australian flora in linocut print (Figure 3). She was a proponent of the Modernist idea of art for the ‘everyman’, promoting the accessibility of art. Her linocuts were easily printed and reproduced, making them able to be put in homes and used on textiles. She wrote in Art in Australia, ‘The easiest way to understand modern art is to buy an example and live with it. Custom makes consciousness’ (Preston 1929, quoted by AGNSW). The techniques used and the images depicted showed an economic shift in Australian society, changing the way art progressed in the early 1920s.

Modern art had begun flowing into Australia by the 1920s but the climate it entered was not so welcoming. After the horrors of World War I, anything considered too heavily European-influenced was regularly looked upon in a negative light. Modernism proved to be polarising in its nature and had garnered many critics, along with its fans. The warfare between Modernism and Conservative values went on relentlessly. A renewed sense of nationalism could be felt post World War I and this idea of the ‘stoic, hard-working Australian’ was seen to be under threat from Modernism (Underhill 1991). Those that opposed the movement regularly cited the ‘deviant’ nature the works and artists as their reasoning for opposition (Snell 1987). Norman Lindsay was a key proponent of Modernism in Australia and sought to have his works exhibited by the South Australian Society of Artists in 1924 (Snell 1987). However, three of his eleven submissions were rejected for obscenity and he subsequently withdrew his submission entirely, then hiring the gallery next door (Lindsay & Wingrove 1990). Lindsay’s exhibition was highly successful and was a direct rejection of the reactionary Conservative movement at the time. In particular, his works including powerful images of female nudity drew controversy (Figure 3). Sydney Ure Smith, an art publisher and promoter at the time, was quoted to have said ‘it’s not so much what he does, it’s the awful ideas he puts into your head’ (Underhill 1991). From that point onwards, the war between Conservatives and Modernism continued, becoming a political pawn. Robert Menzies supported the opening of the Australian Academy of Art in 1937, run by the conservatives of the art world, while, H.V. Evatt, on the other side, supporting the Contemporary Art Society (Snell 1987). This scandalisation of Modernist art had created a split in the art world and, beyond this, fuel for cultural and political fire in Australia. The works, however, would become integral in the history of Australian art, regardless of the reviews it received from critics at the time.

The Modernist movement within Australia continues to be important in Australian history today. The artists and their works tell a story of a young society and its development in the early 20th century. A number of factors impacted the growth and prevalence of Modernist art in Australia at the time. These included the bringing of women to the forefront as artists, consumers and workers, the new technology being rapidly developed at the time, and the scandalisation of art and modernism, garnering the interest of the public. Modernism thrived in a difficult environment during both wars, but within Australia, the inter-war period created a climate in which it would become a focus of both artists and the public, fixing itself firmly within the history of Australian Art.

REFERENCES

Coppel, Stephen. 1995. Linocuts Of The Machine Age. [Aldershot]: Scolar Press.

Hoorn, Jeanette. 1992. "Misogyny And Modernist Painting In Australia: How Male Critics Made Modernism Their Own". Journal Of Australian Studies 16 (32): 7-18. doi:10.1080/14443059209387082.

Leaper, Hana. 2016. "‘Old-Fashioned Modern’: Claude Flight's Lino-Cuts And Public Taste In The Interwar Period". Modernist Cultures 11 (3): 389-408. doi:10.3366/mod.2016.0147.

Lindsay, Norman, and Keith Wingrove. 1990. Norman Lindsay On Art, Life, And Literature. Lucia, Qld., Australia: University of Queensland Press.

Preston, Margaret, Art in Australia, 1929, quoted in Art Gallery New South Wales, “Margaret Preston, art and life,” http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/sub/preston/artist_1920.html

Snell, T and Curtin University of Technology for the Dept. of Visual Arts (1987). Scandalized : public perceptions of the arrival and emergence of modernism in Australian art. [video] Available at: https://echo360.org.au/media/1b8add4f-f17e-4788-ab71-e2b63454fcc1/public [Accessed 8 Mar. 2019].

Speck, Catherine. 2014. "Dorrit Black: Unseen Forces, Art Gallery Of South Australia, 14 June – 7 September 2014". Australian And New Zealand Journal Of Art 14 (2): 214-216. doi:10.1080/14434318.2014.973009.

Underhill, Nancy D. H. 1991. Making Australian Art 1916-49. Melbourne: Oxford University Press.

Williams, John F. 1995. The Quarantined Culture: Australian Reactions To Modernism, 1913-1939. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

#ww1 #australian art #art writing #art research #writing

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alexconkleton · 5 years

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Memories & Inspirations of Templarism: Lisieux

One of the finest representations of the crucifix that I’ve seen resides in the cathedral at Lisieux in France.

It towers high, shaped and detailed to replica real wood. The most interesting feature is the snake twined around the vertical. Throughout Christianity the symbol of a snake has represented temptation and evil but it’s pre-Christian symbolism has been hidden and is the most relevant in its representation of rebirth and new life, through how the snake sheds its skin. This powerful symbology correlates to the rebirth of Jesus, as he shed his Earthly, humanoid body and ascended into spiritual form.

When exploring spirituality and faith you must be prepared to research patterns and symbols of mystic that most would not consider. At Lisieux there is an intriguing mysticism to the storytelling of the life of Saint Theresa who founded the mission.

In the story below I was interested in the statement that they required a trinity of poses and that of all the possible witnesses it is that of the gardener who is referenced. This is significant in that when Jesus is reported as having appeared to Mary in the garden of his burial, Mary mistook him for the gardener. Was her comment intended for his ears because it was only a murmur but he heard the words and it could be understood as a a comment directed at him, encouraging him to take her spirit through death.

There is also the comment of Therese’s naming being sounding a though she is a child of Jesus, a theme of a number of the stories recounted throughout the church. It was on 10 January 1889 when Saint Therese was given the habit that she received the formal name of Thérèse of the Child Jesus.

It is this that intrigued me to look further and exploring this suggestion further finds some other interesting contributions such as Saint Therese being popularly known as "The Little Flower of Jesus" and she is regarded as one of the most popular saints in the history of the church.

Saint Therese is regarded as a highly influential model of sanctity for many catholics. Together with Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Thérèse is one of the most popular Roman Catholic saints since apostolic times. Pope Saint Pius X called her "the greatest saint of modern times".

Saint Therese’s parents remain the first and only married couple to be canonized.

Louis Martin, Thérèse’s father gave pet names to his children and Therese was his petite reine, little queen, to whom all treasures belonged.

It was Christmas Eve of 1886 that Thérèse her "complete conversion." Years later she stated that on that night she overcame the pressures she had faced since the death of her mother and said that "God worked a little miracle to make me grow up in an instant ... On that blessed night … Jesus, who saw fit to make Himself a child out of love for me, saw fit to have me come forth from the swaddling clothes and imperfections of childhood"

After her death Therese’s body was exhumed in September 1910 and the remains placed in a lead coffin and transferred to another tomb.

Saint Therese was recognised as a Doctor of the Church, a title given by the Catholic Church to saints whom they recognize as having made significant contribution to theology or doctrine through their research study, or writing. This title is an English interpretation of the original Latin title in which Doctor means Teacher, a title be which Jesus was commonly known.

Other Doctor’s of the Church include Saint Bernard of Clairvaux (1090 – 20 August 1153), a French abbot and a major leader in the reform of Benedictine monasticism that caused the formation of the Cistercian order. In the year 1128, Bernard attended the Council of Troyes and created the Rule of the Knights Templar, which soon became the ideal of Christian nobility.

In 1895 Saint Theresa composed the poem "My Heaven down here", was this in reference to Theresa having knowledge of heaven and how it could be transposed on Earth? In the poem Therese expresses the notion that by the divine union of love, the soul takes on the semblance of Christ. By contemplating the sufferings associated with the Holy Face of Jesus, she felt she could become closer to Christ. She wrote the words "Make me resemble you, Jesus!" on a small card and attached a stamp with an image of the Holy Face. She pinned the prayer in a small container over her heart.

On her death-bed Saint Therese said, "I only love simplicity. I have a horror of pretence", was this perhaps a reference to her own pretence of her own relationship with Jesus?

Pope Benedict XV dispensed with the usual fifty-year delay required between death and beatification and on 14th August 1921, he promulgated the decree on the heroic virtues of Thérèse declaring her "Venerable". She was beatified on 29th April 1923. Therese was canonized on 17th May 1925 by Pope Pius XI, only 28 years after her death.

It is interesting that Thérèse was declared a saint five years and a day after Joan of Arc. As yet the reason for the exactness for this timing is not clear.

However, the 1925 celebration for Thérèse "far outshone" that for the legendary heroine of France. Pope Pius XI revived the old custom of covering St. Peter's with torches and tallow lamps. According to one account, "Ropes, lamps and tallows were pulled from the dusty storerooms where they had been packed away for 55 years. A few old workmen who remembered how it was done the last time, in 1870, directed 300 men for two weeks as they climbed about fastening lamps to St. Peter's dome." The New York Times ran a front-page story about the occasion titled, "All Rome Admires St. Peter's Aglow for a New Saint".

According to the Times, over 60,000 people, estimated to be the largest crowd inside St. Peter's Basilica since the coronation of Pope Saint Pius X, 22 years before, witnessed the canonization ceremonies. In the evening, 500,000 pilgrims pressed into the lit square.

She rapidly became one of the most popular saints of the twentieth century. Her feast day was added to the General Roman Calendar in for celebration on October 3rd. In 1969, 42 years later, Pope Paul VI moved it to October 1st, the day after her dies natalis (birthday to heaven).

In 1944 Pope Pius XII decreed her a co-patron of France with Saint Joan of Arc. The principal patron of France is the Blessed Virgin Mary.

By the Apostolic Letter Divini Amoris Scientia (The Science of Divine Love) of 19th October 1997, Pope Saint John Paul II declared her the thirty-third Doctor of the Church, the youngest person, and one of only four women so named, the others being Teresa of Ávila (Saint Teresa of Jesus), Hildegard of Bingen and Catherine of Siena.

This small group of women becomes of great interest to focus the research on Saint Theresa’s peer group to further explore the understanding of the importance and relevance of her being made a Doctor of the Church and associated with them.

Teresa of Avila is a particularly interesting individual with whom to start. Teresa is also known as Saint Teresa of Jesus who lived 28th March 1515 – 4th October 1582 was known as a prominent Spainish mystic; mysticism being in strong association with pre-Christian faiths.

Her paternal grandfather, Juan Sánchez de Toledo, was a marrano (a Jewish man who was forcibly converted to Christianity). When Teresa's father was a child, Juan was condemned by the Spanish Inquisition for allegedly returning to the Jewish faith, but he was able to convince them otherwise and re-assume a Christian identity. A Jewish family legacy brings Teresa’s lineage closer to a possible connection with the blood line of Jesus.

When her mother died, Teresa found comfort in a deep devotion to the Virgin Mary as her spiritual mother, perhaps a natural calling.

Teresa’s connection to an older religious faith manifested in her widening learning of spiritualism. As the Catholic distinction between mortal and venial sin became clear to her, she says she came to understand the awful terror of sin and the inherent nature of original sin. She also became conscious of her own natural impotence in confronting sin and the necessity of absolute subjection to God.

Around 1556, various friends suggested that her newfound knowledge was diabolical, not divine. This knowledge could have been an indicator of Teresa’s learning of a secret or hidden knowledge shared through her lineage, through the relationship of her blood line.

She began to inflict various tortures and mortifications of the flesh upon herself. But her confessor, the Jesuit Saint Francis Borgia, reassured her of the divine inspiration of her thoughts. On St. Peter's Day in 1559, Teresa became firmly convinced that Jesus Christ presented himself to her in bodily form, though invisible. These visions lasted almost uninterrupted for more than two years. In another vision, a seraph drove the fiery point of a golden lance repeatedly through her heart, causing an ineffable spiritual and bodily pain:

“I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it...”

This vision was the inspiration for one of Bernini's most famous works, the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa at Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome.

By Alvesgaspar - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=43527951

This iconic work of art which was used as an inspiration for Robert Langdon investigation of the path to Illumination in Angels and Demons. As in the movie is this a hidden message that directs your attention to the truth of a connection of the illuminati to Teresa and her pre-Christian heritage, which carries the power of knowledge that could threaten to bring down the mysticism and power of the church.

Another of the earlier female Doctors of the Church was Hildegard of Bingen 1098 – 17 September 1179 a German Benedictine abbess, writer, composer, philosopher, Christian mystic, visionary, and polymath.

Saint Hildegard wrote Liber Divinorum Operum "Universal Man" about 400 years before the image and interpretation of the mystery of man was immortalised in Leonardo Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

This was Saint Hildegard's last and grandest visionary work had its genesis in one of the few times she experienced something like an ecstatic loss of consciousness. As she described it in an autobiographical passage included in her Vita, sometime in about 1163, she received "an extraordinary mystical vision" in which was revealed the "sprinkling drops of sweet rain" that John the Evangelist experienced when he wrote, "In the beginning was the Word..." (John 1:1). Hildegard perceived that this Word was the key to the "Work of God", of which humankind is the pinnacle.

The Book of Divine Works, therefore, became in many ways an extended explication of the Prologue to John's Gospel.The ten visions of this work's three parts are cosmic in scale, to illustrate various ways of understanding the relationship between God and his creation. Often, that relationship is established by grand allegorical female figures representing Divine Love (Caritas) or Wisdom (Sapientia). The true, overwhelming influence and power of femininity is divine in many aspects.

The first vision opens the work with a salvo of poetic and visionary images, swirling about to characterize God's dynamic activity within the scope of his work within the history of salvation.

The remaining three visions of the first part introduce the famous image of a human being standing astride the spheres that make up the universe, and detail the intricate relationships between the human as microcosm and the universe as macrocosm. This culminates in the final chapter of Part One, Vision Four with Hildegard's commentary on the Prologue to John's Gospel (John 1:1-14), a direct rumination on the meaning of "In the beginning was the Word..." The single vision that comprises the whole of Part Two stretches that rumination back to the opening of Genesis, and forms an extended commentary on the seven days of the creation of the world told in Genesis 1-2:3. This commentary interprets each day of creation in three ways: literal or cosmological; allegorical or ecclesiological (i.e. related to the Church's history); and moral or tropological (i.e. related to the soul's growth in virtue).

Finally, the five visions of the third part take up again the building imagery of Scivias to describe the course of salvation history. The final vision (3.5) contains Hildegard's longest and most detailed prophetic program of the life of the Church from her own days of "womanish weakness" through to the coming and ultimate downfall of the Antichrist.

This incredible work of vision and divine inspiration could be some of the greatest wisdom ever bestowed upon humanity. Imagine for a moment if just one of these visions were real and a true message from God through Hildegard. This and her other works of vision interpretation reveal the meaning behind creation, our relationship to divinity and the universe pre-Bible scripture.

Saint Hildegard’s inspired knowledge and wisdom are clearly expressed through her medicinal and scientific writings, though thematically complementary to her ideas about nature expressed in her visionary works, they are different in focus and scope. Neither claim to be rooted in her visionary experience and its divine authority. Rather, they spring from her experience helping in and then leading the monastery's herbal garden and infirmary, as well as the theoretical information she likely gained through her wide-ranging reading in the monastery's library, a library no doubt of great wealth in ancient, pre-Christian knowledge. As she gained practical skills in diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment, she combined physical treatment of physical diseases with holistic methods centered on "spiritual healing." She became well known for her healing powers involving practical application of tinctures, herbs, and precious stones. She combined these elements with a theological notion ultimately derived from Genesis: all things put on earth are for the use of humans. In addition to her hands-on experience, she also gained medical knowledge, including elements of her humoral theory, from traditional Latin texts.

Hildegard cataloged both her theory and practice in two works. The first, Physica, containg nine books that describe the scientific and medicinal properties of various plants, stones, fish, reptiles, and animals. The second, Causae et Curae, is an exploration of the human body, its connections to the rest of the natural world, and the causes and cures of various diseases.

In the first part of Causae et Curae there is the context of the creation of the cosmos and then humanity as its summit, and the constant interplay of the human person as microcosm both physically and spiritually with the macrocosm of the universe informs all of Hildegard's approach. Her hallmark is to emphasize the vital connection between the "green" health of the natural world and the holistic health of the human person. Viriditas, or greening power, was thought to sustain human beings and could be manipulated by adjusting the balance of elements within a person. Thus, when she approached medicine as a type of gardening, it was not just as an analogy. Rather, Hildegard understood the plants and elements of the garden as direct counterparts to the humors and elements within the human body, whose imbalance led to illness and disease.

Thus, the nearly three hundred chapters of the second book of Causae et Curae "explore the etiology, or causes, of disease as well as human sexuality, psychology, and physiology." In this section, she give specific instructions for bleeding based on various factors, including gender, the phase of the moon (bleeding is best done when moon is waning), the place of disease (use veins near diseased organ of body part) or prevention (big veins in arms), and how much blood to take (described in imprecise measurements, like "the amount that a thirsty person can swallow in one gulp").

In the third and fourth sections, Hildegard describes treatments for malignant and minor problems and diseases according to the humoral theory, again including information on animal health.

The fifth section is about diagnosis and prognosis, which includes instructions to check the patient's blood, pulse, urine and stool. Finally, the sixth section documents a lunar horoscope to provide an additional means of prognosis for both disease and other medical conditions, such as conception and the outcome of pregnancy. For example, she indicates that a waxing moon is good for human conception and is also good for sowing seeds for plants (sowing seeds is the plant equivalent of conception). Elsewhere, Hildegard is even said to have stressed the value of boiling drinking water in an attempt to prevent infection.

As Hildegard elaborates the medical and scientific relationship between the human microcosm and the macrocosm of the universe, she often focuses on interrelated patterns of four: "the four elements (fire, air, water, and earth), the four seasons, the four humors, the four zones of the earth, and the four major winds."

Although she inherited the basic framework of humoral theory from ancient medicine, Hildegard's conception of the hierarchical inter-balance of the four humors (blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile) was unique, based on their correspondence to "superior" and "inferior" elements, blood and phlegm corresponding to the "celestial" elements of fire and air, and the two biles corresponding to the "terrestrial" elements of water and earth. Hildegard understood the disease-causing imbalance of these humors to result from the improper dominance of the subordinate humors. This disharmony reflects that introduced by Adam and Eve in the Fall, which for Hildegard marked the indelible entrance of disease and humoral imbalance into humankind. As she writes in Causae et Curae c. 42:

“It happens that certain men suffer diverse illnesses. This comes from the phlegm which is superabundant within them. For if man had remained in paradise, he would not have had the flegmata within his body, from which many evils proceed, but his flesh would have been whole and without dark humor [livor]. However, because he consented to evil and relinquished good, he was made into a likeness of the earth, which produces good and useful herbs, as well as bad and useless ones, and which has in itself both good and evil moistures. From tasting evil, the blood of the sons of Adam was turned into the poison of semen, out of which the sons of man are begotten. And therefore their flesh is ulcerated and permeable [to disease]. These sores and openings create a certain storm and smoky moisture in men, from which the flegmata arise and coagulate, which then introduce diverse infirmities to the human body. All this arose from the first evil, which man began at the start, because if Adam had remained in paradise, he would have had the sweetest health, and the best dwelling-place, just as the strongest balsam emits the best odor; but on the contrary, man now has within himself poison and phlegm and diverse illnesses.”

Saint Hildegard is the first recorded female Doctor of the Church, a record of spiritually inspired, women who are revered, even officially by the church, for their expansion and exploration of spiritualism, even though this challenged doctrine and sanctioned Christian belief or was this acceptance how the church continued its millenia of the assimilation of the truth of the bloodline of Jesus and the truth of the nature of the divine symbiotic relationship and harmony between all life.

#saint therese #sainthildegard #doctor of the church #christianity #saint teresa of avila

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the-blind-geisha · 6 years

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12 Random Questions tag:

Rules:

You have to post ALL the rules.

Answer 12 questions you have been asked and then create 12 questions for people you tagged.

Choose 12 people.

Actually tag these people.

Can't say you don't do tags.

I am awful at tagging people, so it’s free to anybody who reads this and is interested.

1. Who is your oldest OC?

Oreana Galena. I made her the moment I first ever wrote fanfiction in elementary school in the early 90s or so.

2. Who is your most recent OC?

Ignealia Scientia and Aurdis Scientia—the mother and father idea for Ignis’ parents for a story I am writing. I have the most fun plotting them when daydreaming at work.

3. Do you have any failed OCs, and why didn't they work out for you?

There was some blind vampire chick I know I made forever ago who used a floating orb to see, but I decided to dump her for personally reasons. I honestly didn’t feel too attached to her anywho.

4. Is there an OC you've never gotten to use?

Some that don’t really have names in my FFXV ideas that I keep plotting and then dumping, because they don’t feel right to me.

5. What is your creative process for coming up with characters?

Work daydreaming. xD;; Honestly, my favorite thing to do is think up an idea, draw them down and then put the picture off to the side and look at it while writing their bio. Sometimes the look I drew makes me realize they have a personality in there somewhere in contrast to what I previously plotted.

6. What is the gender ratio of your characters? 'Other' counts!

Oh geez, I think it’s the same, really—pretty evenly balanced if you count my novel men and women, but the men number might outrank the women as I love writing men more over women sometimes. (Especially in RPs lol)

7. What is the age range of your OCs?

20-40 roughly.

8. Do you have a self-insert?

Yup, myself and Ignis way too much but I use Oreana as a means to fill that gap well enough. I have my dream journals for the more personal inserts I don’t control. lol

9. When shipping, do you go 'clean slate' when opening a new RP or fic, or are your OCs permanently with someone?

There was even a time I was free to let my married couple Layla’Ne and Wildfire be not married in some RPs because people wanted them for their characters. I am pretty fine with singling my dudes and ladies for people interested in an AU type of RP or story. I guess it’s my canon vs. someone else’s fancanon. X”D As long as it’s not harmful, I am okay with it.

10. Which of your OCs do you most wish were real? (or, if you'd like this one better, which would you least want to be real? Do both if you feel like it!)

Bernard, for sure. I feel with his calm demeanor and love of painting I could get along with him easily. I used to draw him a lot for comfort back in the day. Though I would love Emuntin to be real too just so I could have someone to hug and cry on the shoulder of.

11. Which of your OCs do you have the most trouble drawing/writing and why?

Zexis Graymane—he keeps changing in appearance every time I try to draw the bastard… lol I also thought he was just going to be this straight shooter who knew when business was such and when to lighten up and have a good time till I wrote to his part in my novel and even drew a second picture of him where I felt he was more troubled by his past and battle warn to the point his lighthearted partner, Blaine, had to bring out his more good-natured and softer side.

12.Were any of your OCs inspired entirely by a song?

The Clockwork Soldier’s renegade brother who has a harem of female soldiers on his airship in my steampunk novel got inspired by ‘Airship Pirate’ by Abney Park. I have yet to give him a name.

Anybody can answer these if they wanna! I’d be happy to hear what you have to say!

1. Ever thought of making your OCs into your own novel/ video game idea/ comic?

2. Which do you find is easier—OC creating or playing in someone else’s sandbox (IE: fandom stuff)

3. Do you give your characters the briefest of ideas or do you go as far as to give them ‘favorite foods’ and such?

4. Let’s be bias—Who is your favorite OC and why?

5. Has anybody else inspired you to create an OC?

6. Are there certain songs that just make you go ‘yeah, this is (X) character for sure’?

7. What duo is your personal OTP in your world? (OC/OC or even OC/Canon or Canon/Canon—don’t care what you put here.)

8. Do you love making OC villains? If so, who is your favorite as of lately?

9. Favorite AU or idea you’ve ever RPed?

10. RPed or no? Ever considered it?

11. Would you like paper or plastic? (I couldn’t help myself, because I am running out of ideas)

12. Does writer’s block ever become a little monster to you? How do you handle it?

#enjoy #ffxv #oc #original characters #original character #questions #tagged #roleplaying #role-play

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plungermusic · 5 years

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Lawmakers seek power to tighten labelling rules

Following the runaway success of their ‘vegeburgers aren’t burgers’ directive, [https://www.theguardian.com/food/2019/apr/04/eu-to-ban-non-meat-product-labels-veggie-burgers-and-vegan-steaks] European lawmakers are pushing ahead with plans to enforce similarly strict designations on the blues scene, as the parliament’s culture committee approved a ban on producers of any other music using nomenclature usually deployed to describe blues.

Committee chairman M. Bernard Bertrand LeRoi said the prohibition was merely common sense. “The EBU is not involved in this:” he said. “following considerable debate among musical groups a large majority wanted to clarify things. You can have ‘blues’ or ‘not-blues', you can’t call it something else. We felt that blues should be kept for real blues with no more than three chords or guitar strings, and let others come up with new names for all these new products.” he said. “People need to know what they are hearing, now people can know what is on their CD player.”

In order to assist with this process, Monsieur B.B. LeRoi added, “A lot of creativity will be needed,” before listing several alternative labels suggested by the committee, “Plodding pub-fare slab; heavy stodge disc; reconstituted recycled Plant byproduct, mushroom-derived waffle; and the old favourite emulsified high-volume awful tune.”

Coming so soon after Britain’s victory at the latest European Blues Challenge, the announcement drew sharp criticism from British blues circles, “The suspicion is that this has come out of panic at the fact that young people are moving away from blues,” she said. “It is a clear indication that they are worried about their market being undercut – and that’s quite a good sign. There certainly didn’t seem to be a lot of consumer demand for it. It wasn’t as if people were buying Joe Bonamassa albums and asking: ‘Where’s my blues?’”

Government spokesman for Blues Privatisation, Jim Hacker MP, said in a written statement, “From Sheffield in the north to Birmingham in the south an Iron Maiden has descended across the country: I can only offer you Blood, Sweat & Tears, and my pledge to keep this island Free. They cannot and will not deprive us of our Great British bangers.”

#webarelymadeanyofthisup

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endquire · 4 years

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DON JUAN in Hell Man and Superman - Act IIIBy George Bernard Shaw

Ana comes indignantly to light.Vivan le femmine! Viva il buon vino!Sostegno e gloria D'umanita.

Stillness settles on the Sierra; and the darkness deepens. The fire has again buried itself in white ash and ceased to glow. The peaks show unfathomably dark against the starry firmament; but now the stars dim and vanish; and the sky seems to steal away out of the universe. Instead of the Sierra there is nothing: omnipresent nothing. No sky, no peaks, no light, no sound, no time nor space, utter void. Then somewhere the beginning of a pallor, and with it a faint throbbing buzz as of a ghostly violoncello palpitating on the same note endlessly. A couple of ghostly violins presently take advantage of this bass . . .

. . . and therewith the pallor reveals a man in the void, an incorporeal but visible man, seated, absurdly enough, on nothing. For a moment he raises his head as the music passes him by. Then, with a heavy sigh, he droops in utter dejection; and the violins, discouraged, retrace their melody in despair and at last give it up, extinguished by wailings from uncanny wind instruments. . .

It is all very odd. One recognizes the Mozartian strain; and on this hint, and by the aid of certain sparkles of violet light in the pallor, the man's costume explains itself as that of a Spanish nobleman of the XV-XVI century. DON JUAN, of course; but where? why? how? Besides, in the brief lifting of his face, now hidden by his hat brim, there was a curious suggestion of Tanner. A more critical, fastidious, handsome face, paler and colder, without Tanner's impetuous credulity and enthusiasm, and without a touch of his modern plutocratic vulgarity, but still a resemblance, even an identity. The name too: DON JUAN Tenorio, John Tanner. Where on earth - or elsewhere - have we got to from the XX century and the Sierra?

Another pallor in the void, this time not violet, but a disagreeable smoky yellow. With it, the whisper of a ghostly clarinet turning this tune into infinite sadness . . .

The yellowish pallor moves: there is an old crone wandering in the void, bent and toothless; draped, as well as one can guess, in the coarse brown frock of some religious order. She wanders and wanders in her slow hopeless way, much as a wasp flies in its rapid busy way, until she blunders against the thing she seeks: companionship. With a sob of relief the poor old creature clutches at the presence of the man and addresses him in her dry unlovely voice, which can still express pride and resolution as well as suffering.

THE OLD WOMAN Excuse me; but I am so lonely; and this place is so awful.

DON JUAN A new comer?

THE OLD WOMAN Yes: I suppose I died this morning. I confessed; I had extreme unction; I was in bed with my family about me and my eyes fixed on the cross. Then it grew dark; and when the light came back it was this light by which I walk seeing nothing. I have wandered for hours in horrible loneliness.

DON JUAN [sighing] Ah! you have not yet lost the sense of time. One soon does, in eternity.

THE OLD WOMAN Where are we?

DON JUAN In hell.

THE OLD WOMAN [proudly] Hell! I in hell! How dare you?

DON JUAN [unimpressed] Why not, senora!

THE OLD WOMAN You do not know to whom you are speaking. I am a lady, and a faithful daughter of the Church.

DON JUAN I do not doubt it.

THE OLD WOMAN But how then can I be in hell? Purgatory, perhaps: I have not been perfect: who has? But hell! oh, you are lying.

DON JUAN Hell, senora, I assure you; hell at its best: that is, its most solitary - though perhaps you would prefer company.

THE OLD WOMAN But I have sincerely repented; I have confessed-

DON JUAN How much?

THE OLD WOMAN More sins than I really committed. I loved confession.

DON JUAN Ah, that is perhaps as bad as confessing too little. At all events, senora, whether by oversight or intention, you are certainly damned, like myself; and there is nothing for it now but to make the best of it.

THE OLD WOMAN [indignantly] Oh! and I might have been so much wickeder! All my good deeds wasted! It is unjust.

DON JUAN No: you were fully and clearly warned. For your bad deeds, vicarious atonement, mercy without justice. For your good deeds, justice without mercy. We have many good people here.

THE OLD WOMAN Were you a good man?

DON JUAN I was a murderer.

THE OLD WOMAN A murderer! Oh, how dare they send me to herd with murderers! I was not as bad as that: I was a good woman. There is some mistake: where can I have it set right?

DON JUAN I do not know whether mistakes can be corrected here. Probably they will not admit a mistake even if they have made one.

THE OLD WOMAN But whom can I ask?

DON JUAN I should ask the Devil, senora: he understands the ways of this place, which is more than I ever could.

THE OLD WOMAN The Devil! I speak to the Devil!

DON JUAN In hell, senora, the Devil is the leader of the best society.

THE OLD WOMAN I tell you, wretch, I know I am not in hell.

DON JUAN How do you know?

THE OLD WOMAN Because I feel no pain.

DON JUAN Oh, then there is no mistake: you are intentionally damned.

THE OLD WOMAN Why do you say that?

DON JUAN Because hell, senora, is a place for the wicked. The wicked are quite comfortable in it: it was made for them. You tell me you feel no pain. I conclude you are one of those for whom hell exists.

THE OLD WOMAN Do you feel no pain?

DON JUAN I am not one of the wicked, senora; therefore it bores me, bores me beyond description, beyond belief.

THE OLD WOMAN Not one of the wicked! You said you were a murderer.

DON JUAN Only a duel. I ran my sword through an old man who was trying to run his through me.

THE OLD WOMAN If you were a gentleman, that was not a murder.

DON JUAN The old man called it murder, because he was, he said, defending his daughter's honor. By this he meant that because I foolishly fell in love with her and told her so, she screamed; and he tried to assassinate me after calling me insulting names.

THE OLD WOMAN You were like all men. Libertines and murderers all, all, all!

DON JUAN And yet we meet here, dear lady.

THE OLD WOMAN Listen to me. My father was slain by just such a wretch as you, in just such a duel, for just such a cause. I screamed: it was my duty. My father drew on my assailant: his honor demanded it. He fell: that was the reward of honor. I am here: in hell, you tell me: that is the reward of duty. Is there justice in heaven?

DON JUAN No; but there is justice in hell: heaven is far above such idle human personalities. You will be welcome in hell, senora. Hell is the home of honor, duty, justice, and the rest of the seven deadly virtues. All the wickedness on earth is done in their name: where else but in hell should they have their reward? Have I not told you that the truly damned are those who are happy in hell?

THE OLD WOMAN And are you happy here?

DON JUAN [springing to his feet] No; and that is the enigma on which I ponder in darkness. Why am I here? I, who repudiated all duty, trampled honor underfoot, and laughed at justice!

THE OLD WOMAN Oh, what do I care why you are here? Why am I here? I, who sacrificed all my inclinations to womanly virtue and propriety!

DON JUAN Patience, lady: you will be perfectly happy and at home here. As saith the poet, "Hell is a city much like Seville."

THE OLD WOMAN Happy! here! where I am nothing! where I am nobody!

DON JUAN Not at all: you are a lady; and wherever ladies are is hell. Do not be surprised or terrified: you will find everything here that a lady can desire, including devils who will serve you from sheer love of servitude, and magnify your importance for the sake of dignifying their service - the best of servants.

THE OLD WOMAN My servants will be devils!

DON JUAN Have you ever had servants who were not devils?

THE OLD WOMAN Never: they were devils, perfect devils, all of them. But that is only a manner of speaking. I thought you meant that my servants here would be real devils.

DON JUAN No more real devils than you will be a real lady. Nothing is real here. That is the horror of damnation.

THE OLD WOMAN Oh, this is all madness. This is worse than fire and the worm.

DON JUAN For you, perhaps, there are consolations. For instance: how old were you when you changed from time to eternity?

THE OLD WOMAN Do not ask me how old I was - as if I were a thing of the past. I am 77.

DON JUAN A ripe age, senora. But in hell old age is not tolerated. It is too real. Here we worship Love and Beauty. Our souls being entirely damned, we cultivate our hearts. As a lady of 77, you would not have a single acquaintance in hell.

THE OLD WOMAN How can I help my age, man?

DON JUAN You forget that you have left your age behind you in the realm of time. You are no more 77 than you are 7 or 17 or 27.

THE OLD WOMAN Nonsense!

DON JUAN Consider, senora: was not this true even when you lived on earth? When you were 70, were you really older underneath your wrinkles and your grey hairs than when you were 30?

THE OLD WOMAN No, younger: at 30 I was a fool. But of what use is it to feel younger and look older?

DON JUAN You see, senora, the look was only an illusion. Your wrinkles lied, just as the plump smooth skin of many a stupid girl of 17, with heavy spirits and decrepit ideas, lies about her age. Well, here we have no bodies: we see each other as bodies only because we learnt to think about one another under that aspect when we were alive; and we still think in that way; knowing no other. But we can appear to one another at what age we choose. You have but to will any of your old looks back, and back they will come.

THE OLD WOMAN It cannot be true.

DON JUAN Try.

THE OLD WOMAN Seventeen!

DON JUAN Stop. Before you decide, I had better tell you that these things are a matter of fashion. Occasionally we have a rage for 17; but it does not last long. Just at present the fashionable age is 40 - or say 37; but there are signs of a change. If you were at all good-looking at 27, I should suggest your trying that, and setting a new fashion.

THE OLD WOMAN I do not believe a word you are saying. However, 27 be it. [Whisk! the old woman becomes a young one, magnificently attired, and so handsome that in the radiance into which her dull yellow halo has suddenly lightened one might almost mistake her for Ann Whitefield].

DON JUAN Dona Ana de Ulloa!

ANA What? You know me!

DON JUAN And you forget me!

ANA I cannot see your face. [He raises his hat]. DON JUAN Tenorio! Monster! You who slew my father! even here you pursue me.

DON JUAN I protest I do not pursue you. Allow me to withdraw [going].

ANA [seizing his arm] You shall not leave me alone in this dreadful place.

DON JUAN Provided my staying be not interpreted as pursuit.

ANA [releasing him] You may well wonder how I can endure your presence. My dear, dear father!

DON JUAN Would you like to see him?

ANA My father here!!!

DON JUAN No: he is in heaven.

ANA I knew it. My noble father! He is looking down on us now. What must he feel to see his daughter in this place, and in conversation with his murderer!

DON JUAN By the way, if we should meet him -

ANA How can we meet him? He is in heaven.

DON JUAN He condescends to look in upon us here from time to time. Heaven bores him. So let me warn you that if you meet him he will be mortally offended if you speak of me as his murderer! He maintains that he was a much better swordsman than I, and that if his foot had not slipped he would have killed me. No doubt he is right: I was not a good fencer. I never dispute the point; so we are excellent friends.

ANA It is no dishonor to a soldier to be proud of his skill in arms.

DON JUAN You would rather not meet him, probably.

ANA How dare you say that?

DON JUAN Oh, that is the usual feeling here. You may remember that on earth - though of course we never confessed it - the death of anyone we knew, even those we liked best, was always mingled with a certain satisfaction at being finally done with them.

ANA Monster! Never, never.

DON JUAN [placidly] I see you recognize the feeling. Yes: a funeral was always a festivity in black, especially the funeral of a relative. At all events, family ties are rarely kept up here. Your father is quite accustomed to this: he will not expect any devotion from you.

ANA Wretch: I wore mourning for him all my life.

DON JUAN Yes: it became you. But a life of mourning is one thing: an eternity of it quite another. Besides, here you are as dead as he. Can anything be more ridiculous than one dead person mourning for another? Do not look shocked, my dear Ana; and do not be alarmed: there is plenty of humbug in hell (indeed there is hardly anything else); but the humbug of death and age and change is dropped because here we are all dead and all eternal. You will pick up our ways soon.

ANA And will all the men call me their dear Ana?

DON JUAN No. That was a slip of the tongue. I beg your pardon.

ANA [almost tenderly] Juan: did you really love me when you behaved so disgracefully to me?

DON JUAN [impatiently] Oh, I beg you not to begin talking about love. Here they talk of nothing else but love: its beauty, its holiness, its spirituality, its devil knows what! - excuse me; but it does so bore me. They don't know what they are talking about; I do. They think they have achieved the perfection of love because they have no bodies. Sheer imaginative debauchery! Faugh!

ANA Has even death failed to refine your soul, Juan? Has the terrible judgment of which my father's statue was the minister taught you no reverence?

DON JUAN How is that very flattering statue, by the way? Does it still come to supper with naughty people and cast them into this bottomless pit?

ANA It has been a great expense to me. The boys in the monastery school would not let it alone: the mischievous ones broke it; and the studious ones wrote their names on it. Three new noses in two years, and fingers without end. I had to leave it to its fate at last; and now I fear it is shockingly mutilated. My poor father!

DON JUAN Hush! Listen! [Two great chords rolling on syncopated waves of sound break forth: D minor and its dominant: a sound of dreadful joy to all musicians]. Ha! Mozart's statue music. It is your father. You had better disappear until I prepare him. [She vanishes].

From the void comes a living statue of white marble, designed to represent a majestic old man. But he waives his majesty with infinite grace; walks with a feather-like step; and makes every wrinkle in his war worn visage brim over with holiday joyousness. To his sculptor he owes a perfectly trained figure, which he carries erect and trim; and the ends of his moustache curl up, elastic as watchsprings, giving him an air which, but for its Spanish dignity, would be called jaunty. He is on the pleasantest terms with Don Juan. His voice, save for a much more distinguished intonation, is so like the voice of Roebuck Ramsden that it calls attention to the fact that they are not unlike one another in spite of their very different fashions of shaving.

DON JUAN Ah, here you are, my friend. Why don't you learn to sing the splendid music Mozart has written for you?

THE STATUE Unluckily he has written it for a bass voice. Mine is a counter tenor. Well: have you repented yet?

DON JUAN I have too much consideration for you to repent, Don Gonzalo. If I did, you would have no excuse for coming from Heaven to argue with me.

THE STATUE True. Remain obdurate, my boy. I wish I had killed you, as I should have done but for an accident. Then I should have come here; and you would have had a statue and a reputation for piety to live up to. Any news?

DON JUAN Yes: your daughter is dead.

THE STATUE [puzzled] My daughter? [Recollecting] Oh! the one you were taken with. Let me see: what was her name?

DON JUAN Ana.

THE STATUE To be sure: Ana. A good-looking girl, if I recollect aright. Have you warned Whatshisname? her husband.

DON JUAN My friend Ottavio? No: I have not seen him since Ana arrived.

ANA What does this mean? Ottavio here and your friend! And you, father, have forgotten my name. You are indeed turned to stone.

THE STATUE My dear: I am so much more admired in marble than I ever was in my own person that I have retained the shape the sculptor gave me. He was one of the first men of his day: you must acknowledge that.

ANA Father! Vanity! personal vanity! from you!

THE STATUE Ah, you outlived that weakness, my daughter: you must be nearly eighty by this time. I was cut off (by an accident) in my 64th year, and am considerably your junior in consequence. Besides, my child, in this place, what our libertine friend here would call the farce of parental wisdom is dropped. Regard me, I beg, as a fellow creature, not as a father.

ANA You speak as this villain speaks.

THE STATUE Juan is a sound thinker, Ana. A bad fencer, but a sound thinker.

ANA [horror creeping upon her] I begin to understand. These are devils, mocking me. I had better pray.

THE STATUE [consoling her] No, no, no, my child: do not pray. If you do, you will throw away the main advantage of this place. Written over the gate here are the words "Leave every hope behind, ye who enter." Only think what a relief that is! For what is hope? A form of moral responsibility. Here there is no hope, and consequently no duty, no work, nothing to be gained by praying, nothing to be lost by doing what you like. Hell, in short, is a place where you have nothing to do but amuse yourself. [DON JUAN sighs deeply]. You sigh, friend Juan; but if you dwelt in heaven, as I do, you would realize your advantages.

DON JUAN You are in good spirits today, Commander. You are positively brilliant. What is the matter?

THE STATUE I have come to a momentous decision, my boy. But first, where is our friend the Devil? I must consult him in the matter. And Ana would like to make his acquaintance, no doubt.

ANA You are preparing some torment for me.

DON JUAN All that is superstition, Ana. Reassure yourself. Remember: the Devil is not so black as he is painted.

THE STATUE Let us give him a call.

At the wave of the statue's hand the great chords roll out again: but this time Mozart's music gets grotesquely adulterated with Gounod's. A scarlet halo begins to glow; and into it the Devil rises, very Mephistophelean, and not at all unlike Mendoza, though not so interesting. He looks older; is getting prematurely bald; and, in spite of an effusion of good nature and friendliness, is peevish and sensitive when his advances are not reciprocated. He does not inspire much confidence in his powers of hard work or endurance, and is, on the whole, a disagreeably self-indulgent looking person; but he is clever and plausible, though perceptibly less well bred than the two other men, and enormously less vital than the woman.

THE DEVIL [heartily] Have I the pleasure of again receiving a visit from the illustrious Commander of Calatrava? [Coldly] DON JUAN, your servant. [Politely] And a strange lady? My respects, senora.

ANA Are you-

THE DEVIL [bowing] Lucifer, at your service.

ANA I shall go mad.

THE DEVIL [gallantly] Ah, senora, do not be anxious. You come to us from earth, full of the prejudices and terrors of that priest-ridden place. You have heard me ill spoken of; and yet, believe me, I have hosts of friends there.

ANA Yes: you reign in their hearts.

THE DEVIL [shaking his head] You flatter me, senora; but you are mistaken. It is true that the world cannot get on without me; but it never gives me credit for that: in its heart it mistrusts and hates me. Its sympathies are all with misery, with poverty, with starvation of the body and of the heart. I call on it to sympathize with joy, with love, with happiness, with beauty -

DON JUAN [nauseated] Excuse me: I am going. You know I cannot stand this.

THE DEVIL [angrily] Yes: I know that you are no friend of mine.

THE STATUE What harm is he doing you, Juan? It seems to me that he was talking excellent sense when you interrupted him.

THE DEVIL [warmly patting the statue's hand] Thank you, my friend: thank you. You have always understood me: he has always disparaged and avoided me.

DON JUAN I have treated you with perfect courtesy.

THE DEVIL Courtesy! What is courtesy? I care nothing for mere courtesy. Give me warmth of heart, true sincerity, the bond of sympathy with love and joy -

DON JUAN You are making me ill.

THE DEVIL There! [Appealing to the statue] You hear, sir! Oh, by what irony of fate was this cold selfish egotist sent to my kingdom, and you taken to the icy mansions of the sky!

THE STATUE I can't complain. I was a hypocrite; and it served me right to be sent to heaven.

THE DEVIL Why, sir, do you not join us, and leave a sphere for which your temperament is too sympathetic, your heart too warm, your capacity for enjoyment too generous?

THE STATUE I have this day resolved to do so. In future, excellent Son of the Morning, I am yours. I have left heaven for ever.

THE DEVIL [again touching the marble hand] Ah, what an honor! what a triumph for our cause! Thank you, thank you. And now, my friend - I may call you so at last - could you not persuade him to take the place you have left vacant above?

THE STATUE [shaking his head] I cannot conscientiously recommend anybody with whom I am on friendly terms to deliberately make himself dull and uncomfortable.

THE DEVIL Of course not; but are you sure he would be uncomfortable? Of course you know best: you brought him here originally; and we had the greatest hopes of him. His sentiments were in the best taste of our best people. You remember how he sang? [He begins to sing in a nasal operatic baritone, tremulous from an eternity of misuse in the French manner]

THE STATUE [taking up the tune an octave higher in his counter tenor]

THE DEVIL Precisely. Well, he never sings for us now.

DON JUAN Do you complain of that? Hell is full of musical amateurs: music is the brandy of the damned. May not one lost soul be permitted to abstain?

THE DEVIL You dare blaspheme against the sublimest of the arts!

DON JUAN [with cold disgust] You talk like a hysterical woman fawning on a fiddler.

THE DEVIL I am not angry. I merely pity you. You have no soul; and you are unconscious of all that you lose. Now you, senor Commander, are a born musician. How well you sing! Mozart would be delighted if he were still here; but he moped and went to heaven. Curious how these clever men, whom you would have supposed born to be popular here, have turned out social failures, like DON JUAN!

DON JUAN I am really very sorry to be a social failure.

THE DEVIL Not that we don't admire your intellect, you know. We do. But I look at the matter from your own point of view. You don't get on with us. The place doesnt suit you. The truth is, you have - I wont say no heart; for we know that beneath all your affected cynicism you have a warm one -

DON JUAN [shrinking] Don't, please don't.

THE DEVIL [nettled] Well, you've no capacity for enjoyment. Will that satisfy you?

DON JUAN It is a somewhat less insufferable form of cant than the other. But if you'll allow me, I'll take refuge, as usual, in solitude.

THE DEVIL Why not take refuge in Heaven? Thats the proper place for you. [To Ana] Come, senora! could you not persuade him for his own good to try change of air?

ANA But can he go to heaven if he wants to?

THE DEVIL Whats to prevent him?

ANA Can anybody - can I go to heaven if I want to?

THE DEVIL [rather contemptuously] Certainly, if your taste lies that way.

ANA But why doesnt everybody go to heaven, then?

THE STATUE [chuckling] I can tell you that, my dear. It's because heaven is the most angelically dull place in all creation: thats why.

THE DEVIL His excellency the Commander puts it with military bluntness; but the strain of living in heaven is intolerable. There is a notion that I was turned out of it; but as a matter of fact nothing could have induced me to stay there. I simply left it and organized this place.

THE STATUE I don't wonder at it. Nobody could stand an eternity of heaven.

THE DEVIL Oh, it suits some people. Let us be just, Commander: it is a question of temperament. I don't admire the heavenly temperament: I don't understand it: I don't know that I particularly want to understand it; but it takes all sorts to make a universe. There is no accounting for tastes: there are people who like it. I think DON JUAN would like it.

DON JUAN But - pardon my frankness - could you really go back there if you desired to; or are the grapes sour?

THE DEVIL Back there! I often go back there. Have you never read the book of Job? Have you any canonical authority for assuming that there is any barrier between our circle and the other one?

ANA But surely there is a great gulf fixed.

THE DEVIL Dear lady: a parable must not be taken literally. The gulf is the difference between the angelic and the diabolic temperament. What more impassable gulf could you have? Think of what you have seen on earth. There is no physical gulf between the philosopher's class room and the bull ring; but the bull fighters do not come to the class room for all that. Have you ever been in the country where I have the largest following? England. There they have great racecourses, and also concert rooms where they play the classical compositions of his Excellency's friend Mozart. Those who go to the racecourses can stay away from them and go to the classical concerts instead if they like: there is no law against it; for Englishmen never will be slaves: they are free to do whatever the Government and public opinion allow them to do. And the classical concert is admitted to be a higher, more cultivated, poetic, intellectual, ennobling place than the racecourse. But do the lovers of racing desert their sport and flock to the concert room? Not they. They would suffer there all the weariness the Commander has suffered in heaven. There is the great gulf of the parable between the two places. A mere physical gulf they could bridge; or at least I could bridge it for them (the earth is full of Devil's Bridges); but the gulf of dislike is impassable and eternal. And that is the only gulf that separates my friends here from those who are invidiously called the blest.

ANA I shall go to heaven at once.

THE STATUE My child: one word of warning first. Let me complete my friend Lucifer's similitude of the classical concert. At every one of these concerts in England you will find rows of weary people who are there, not because they really like classical music, but because they think they ought to like it. Well, there is the same thing in heaven. A number of people sit there in glory, not because they are happy, but because they think they owe it to their position to be in heaven. They are almost all English.

THE DEVIL Yes: the Southerners give it up and join me just as you have done. But the English really do not seem to know when they are thoroughly miserable. An Englishman thinks he is moral when he is only uncomfortable.

THE STATUE In short, my daughter, if you go to heaven without being naturally qualified for it, you will not enjoy yourself there.

ANA And who dares say that I am not naturally qualified for it? The most distinguished princes of the Church have never questioned it. I owe it to myself to leave this place at once.

THE DEVIL [offended] As you please, senora. I should have expected better taste from you.

ANA Father: I shall expect you to come with me. You cannot stay here. What will people say?

THE STATUE People! Why, the best people are here - princes of the church and all. So few go to heaven, and so many come here, that the blest, once called a heavenly host, are a continually dwindling minority. The saints, the fathers, the elect of long ago are the cranks, the faddists, the outsiders of today.

THE DEVIL It is true. From the beginning of my career I knew that I should win in the long run by sheer weight of public opinion, in spite of the long campaign of misrepresentation and calumny against me. At bottom the universe is a constitutional one; and with such a majority as mine I cannot be kept permanently out of office.

DON JUAN I think, Ana, you had better stay here.

ANA [jealously] You do not want me to go with you.

DON JUAN Surely you do not want to enter heaven in the company of a reprobate like me.

ANA All souls are equally precious. You repent, do you not?

DON JUAN My dear Ana, you are silly. Do you suppose heaven is like earth, where people persuade themselves that what is done can be undone by repentance; that what is spoken can be unspoken by withdrawing it; that what is true can be annihilated by a general agreement to give it the lie? No: heaven is the home of the masters of reality: that is why I am going thither.

ANA Thank you: I am going to heaven for happiness. I have had quite enough of reality on earth.

DON JUAN Then you must stay here; for hell is the home of the unreal and of the seekers for happiness. It is the only refuge from heaven, which is, as I tell you, the home of the masters of reality, and from earth, which is the home of the slaves of reality. The earth is a nursery in which men and women play at being heroes and heroines, saints and sinners; but they are dragged down from their fool's paradise by their bodies: hunger and cold and thirst, age and decay and disease, death above all, make them slaves of reality: thrice a day meals must be eaten and digested: thrice a century a new generation must be engendered: ages of faith, of romance, and of science are all driven at last to have but one prayer, "Make me a healthy animal." But here you escape this tyranny of the flesh; for here you are not an animal at all: you are a ghost, an appearance, an illusion, a convention, deathless, ageless: in a word, bodiless. There are no social questions here, no political questions, no religious questions, best of all, perhaps, no sanitary questions. Here you call your appearance beauty, your emotions love, your sentiments heroism, your aspirations virtue, just as you did on earth; but here there are no hard facts to contradict you, no ironic contrast of your needs with your pretensions, no human comedy, nothing but a perpetual romance, a universal melodrama. As our German friend put it in his poem, "the poetically nonsensical here is good sense; and the Eternal Feminine draws us ever upward and on" - without getting us a step farther. And yet you want to leave this paradise!

ANA But if hell be so beautiful as this, how glorious must heaven be!

[The Devil, the Statue, and DON JUAN all begin to speak at once in violent protest; then stop, abashed.]

DON JUAN I beg your pardon.

THE DEVIL Not at all. I interrupted you.

THE STATUE You were going to say something.

DON JUAN After you, gentlemen.

THE DEVIL [to DON JUAN] You have been so eloquent on the advantages of my dominions that I leave you to do equal justice to the drawbacks of the alternative establishment.

DON JUAN In heaven, as I picture it, dear lady, you live and work instead of playing and pretending. You face things as they are; you escape nothing but glamor; and your steadfastness and your peril are your glory. If the play still goes on here and on earth, and all the world is a stage, Heaven is at least behind the scenes. But Heaven cannot be described by metaphor. Thither I shall go presently, because there I hope to escape at last from lies and from the tedious, vulgar pursuit of happiness, to spend my eons in contemplation -

THE STATUE Ugh!

DON JUAN senor Commander: I do not blame your disgust: a picture gallery is a dull place for a blind man. But even as you enjoy the contemplation of such romantic mirages as beauty and pleasure; so would I enjoy the contemplation of that which interests me above all things: namely, Life: the force that ever strives to attain greater power of contemplating itself. What made this brain of mine, do you think? Not the need to move my limbs; for a rat with half my brains moves as well as I. Not merely the need to do, but the need to know what I do, lest in my blind efforts to live I should be slaying myself.

THE STATUE You would have slain yourself in your blind efforts to fence but for my foot slipping, my friend.

DON JUAN Audacious ribald: your laughter will finish in hideous boredom before morning.

THE STATUE Ha ha! Do you remember how I frightened you when I said something like that to you from my pedestal in Seville? It sounds rather flat without my trombones.

DON JUAN They tell me it generally sounds flat with them, Commander.

ANA Oh, do not interrupt with these frivolities, father. Is there nothing in Heaven but contemplation, Juan?

DON JUAN In the Heaven I seek, no other joy. But there is the work of helping Life in its struggle upward. Think of how it wastes and scatters itself, how it raises up obstacles to itself and destroys itself in its ignorance and blindness. It needs a brain, this irresistible force, lest in its ignorance it should resist itself. What a piece of work is man! says the poet. Yes; but what a blunderer! Here is the highest miracle of organization yet attained by life, the most intensely alive thing that exists, the most conscious of all the organisms; and yet, how wretched are his brains! Stupidity made sordid and cruel by the realities learnt from toll and poverty: Imagination resolved to starve sooner than face these realities, piling up illusions to hide them, and calling itself cleverness, genius! And each accusing the other of its own defect: Stupidity accusing Imagination of folly, and Imagination accusing Stupidity of ignorance: whereas, alas! Stupidity has all the knowledge, and Imagination all the intelligence.

THE DEVIL And a pretty kettle of fish they make of it between them. Did I not say, when I was arranging that affair of Faust's, that all Man's reason has done for him is to make him beastlier than any beast. One splendid body is worth the brains of a hundred dyspeptic, flatulent philosophers.

DON JUAN You forget that brainless magnificence of body has been tried. Things immeasurably greater than man in every respect but brain have existed and perished. The megatherium, the icthyosaurus have paced the earth with seven-league steps and hidden the day with cloud vast wings. Where are they now? Fossils in museums, and so few and imperfect at that, that a knuckle bone or a tooth of one of them is prized beyond the lives of a thousand soldiers. These things lived and wanted to live; but for lack of brains they did not know how to carry out their purpose, and so destroyed themselves.

THE DEVIL And is Man any the less destroying himself for all this boasted brain of his? Have you walked up and down upon the earth lately? I have; and I have examined Man's wonderful inventions. And I tell you that in the arts of life man invents nothing; but in the arts of death he outdoes Nature herself, and produces by chemistry and machinery all the slaughter of plague, pestilence, and famine. The peasant I tempt today eats and drinks what was eaten and drunk by the peasants of ten thousand years ago; and the house he lives in has not altered as much in a thousand centuries as the fashion of a lady's bonnet in a score of weeks. But when he goes out to slay, he carries a marvel of mechanism that lets loose at the touch of his finger all the hidden molecular energies, and leaves the javelin, the arrow, the blowpipe of his fathers far behind. In the arts of peace Man is a bungler. I have seen his cotton factories and the like, with machinery that a greedy dog could have invented if it had wanted money instead of food. I know his clumsy typewriters and bungling locomotives and tedious bicycles: they are toys compared to the Maxim gun, the submarine torpedo boat. There is nothing in Man's industrial machinery but his greed and sloth: his heart is in his weapons. This marvellous force of Life of which you boast is a force of Death: Man measures his strength by his destructiveness. What is his religion? An excuse for hating me. What is his law? An excuse for hanging you. What is his morality? Gentility! An excuse for consuming without producing. What is his art? An excuse for gloating over pictures of slaughter. What are his politics? Either the worship of a despot because a despot can kill, or parliamentary cockfighting. I spent an evening lately in a certain celebrated legislature, and heard the pot lecturing the kettle for its blackness, and ministers answering questions. When I left I chalked up on the door the old nursery saying "Ask no questions and you will be told no lies." I bought a sixpenny family magazine, and found it full of pictures of young men shooting and stabbing one another. I saw a man die: he was a London bricklayer's laborer with seven children. He left seventeen pounds club money; and his wife spent it all on his funeral and went into the workhouse with the children next day. She would not have spent sevenpence on her children's schooling: the law had to force her to let them be taught gratuitously; but on death she spent all she had. Their imagination glows, their energies rise up at the idea of death, these people: they love it; and the more horrible it is the more they enjoy it. Hell is a place far above their comprehension: they derive their notion of it from two of the greatest fools that ever lived, an Italian and an Englishman. The Italian described it as a place of mud, frost, filth, fire, and venomous serpents: all torture. This ass, when he was not lying about me, was maundering about some woman whom he saw once in the street. The Englishman described me as being expelled from Heaven by cannons and gunpowder; and to this day every Briton believes that the whole of his silly story is in the Bible. What else he says I do not know; for it is all in a long poem which neither I nor anyone else ever succeeded in wading through. It is the same in everything. The highest form of literature is the tragedy, a play in which everybody is murdered at the end. In the old chronicles you read of earthquakes and pestilences, and are told that these shewed the power and majesty of God and the littleness of Man. Nowadays the chronicles describe battles. In a battle two bodies of men shoot at one another with bullets and explosive shells until one body runs away, when the others chase the fugitives on horseback and cut them to pieces as they fly. And this, the chronicle concludes, shews the greatness and majesty of empires, and the littleness of the vanquished. Over such battles the people run about the streets yelling with delight, and egg their Government on to spend hundreds of millions of money in the slaughter, whilst the strongest Ministers dare not spend an extra penny in the pound against the poverty and pestilence through which they themselves daily walk. I could give you a thousand instances; but they all come to the same thing: the power that governs the earth is not the power of Life but of Death; and the inner need that has served Life to the effort of organising itself into the human being is not the need for higher life but for a more efficient engine of destruction. The plague, the famine, the earthquake, the tempest were too spasmodic in their action; the tiger and crocodile were too easily satiated and not cruel enough: something more constantly, more ruthlessly, more ingeniously destructive was needed; and that something was Man, the inventor of the rack, the stake, the gallows, the electric chair; of sword and gun and poison gas: above all, of justice, duty, patriotism, and all the other isms by which even those who are clever enough to be humanely disposed are persuaded to become the most destructive of all the destroyers.

DON JUAN Pshaw! all this is old. Your weak side, my diabolic friend, is that you have always been a gull: you take Man at his own valuation. Nothing would flatter him more than your opinion of him. He loves to think of himself as bold and bad. He is neither one nor the other: he is only a coward. Call him tyrant, murderer, pirate, bully; and he will adore you, and swagger about with the consciousness of having the blood of the old sea kings in his veins. Call him liar and thief; and he will only take an action against you for libel. But call him coward; and he will go mad with rage: he will face death to outface that stinging truth. Man gives every reason for his conduct save one, every excuse for his crimes save one, every plea for his safety save one; and that one is his cowardice. Yet all his civilization is founded on his cowardice, on his abject tameness, which he calls his respectability. There are limits to what a mule or an ass will stand; but Man will suffer himself to be degraded until his vileness becomes so loathsome to his oppressors that they themselves are forced to reform it.

THE DEVIL Precisely. And these are the creatures in whom you discover what you call a Life Force!

DON JUAN Yes; for now comes the most surprising part of the whole business.

THE STATUE Whats that?

DON JUAN Why, that you can make any of these cowards brave by simply putting an idea into his head.

THE STATUE Stuff! As an old soldier I admit the cowardice: it's as universal as sea sickness, and matters just as little. But that about putting an idea into a man's head is stuff and nonsense. In a battle all you need to make you fight is a little hot blood and the knowledge that it's more dangerous to lose than to win.

DON JUAN That is perhaps why battles are so useless. But men never really overcome fear until they imagine they are fighting to further a universal purpose - fighting for an idea, as they call it. Why was the Crusader braver than the pirate? Because he fought, not for himself, but for the Cross. What force was it that met him with a valor as reckless as his own? The force of men who fought, not for themselves, but for Islam. They took Spain from us though we were fighting for our very hearths and homes; but when we, too, fought for that mighty idea, a Catholic Church, we swept them back to Africa.

THE DEVIL [ironically] What! you a Catholic, senor DON JUAN! A devotee! My congratulations.

THE STATUE [seriously] Come, come! as a soldier, I can listen to nothing against the Church.

DON JUAN Have no fear, Commander: this idea of a Catholic Church will survive Islam, will survive the Cross, will survive even that vulgar pageant of incompetent schoolboyish gladiators which you call the Army.

THE STATUE Juan: you will force me to call you to account for this.

DON JUAN Useless: I cannot fence. Every idea for which Man will die will be a Catholic idea. When the Spaniard learns at last that he is no better than the Saracen, and his prophet no better than Mahomet, he will arise, more Catholic than ever, and die on a barricade across the filthy slum he starves in, for universal liberty and equality.

THE STATUE Bosh!

DON JUAN What you call bosh is the only thing men dare die for. Later on, Liberty will not be Catholic enough: men will die for human perfection, to which they will sacrifice all their liberty gladly.

THE DEVIL Ay: they will never be at a loss for an excuse for killing one another.

DON JUAN What of that? It is not death that matters, but the fear of death. It is not killing and dying that degrades us, but base living, and accepting the wages and profits of degradation. Better ten dead men than one live slave or his master. Men shall yet rise up, father against son and brother against brother, and kill one another for the great Catholic idea of abolishing slavery.

THE DEVIL Yes, when the Liberty and Equality of which you prate shall have made free white Christians cheaper in the labor market than black heathen slaves sold by auction at the block.

DON JUAN Never fear! the white laborer shall have his turn too. But I am not now defending the illusory forms the great ideas take. I am giving you examples of the fact that this creature Man, who in his own selfish affairs is a coward to the backbone, will fight for an idea like a hero. He may be abject as a citizen; but he is dangerous as a fanatic. He can only be enslaved whilst he is spiritually weak enough to listen to reason. I tell you, gentlemen, if you can shew a man a piece of what he now calls God's work to do, and what he will later on call by many new names, you can make him entirely reckless of the consequences to himself personally.

ANA Yes: he shirks all his responsibilities, and leaves his wife to grapple with them.

THE STATUE Well said, Daughter. Do not let him talk you out of your common sense.

THE DEVIL Alas! senor Commander, now that we have got on to the subject of Woman, he will talk more than ever. However, I confess it is for me the one supremely interesting subject.

DON JUAN To a woman, senora, man's duties and responsibilities begin and end with the task of getting bread for her children. To her, Man is only a means to the end of getting children and rearing them.

ANA Is that your idea of a woman's mind? I call it cynical and disgusting animalism.

DON JUAN Pardon me, Ana: I said nothing about a woman's whole mind. I spoke of her view of Man as a separate sex. It is no more cynical than her view of herself as above all things a Mother. Sexually, Woman is Nature's contrivance for perpetuating its highest achievement. Sexually, Man is Woman's contrivance for fulfilling Nature's behest in the most economical way. She knows by instinct that far back in the evolutional process she invented him, differentiated him, created him in order to produce something better than the single-sexed process can produce. Whilst he fulfils the purpose for which she made him, he is welcome to his dreams, his follies, his ideals, his heroisms, provided that the keystone of them all is the worship of woman, of motherhood, of the family, of the hearth. But how rash and dangerous it was to invent a separate creature whose sole function was her own impregnation! For mark what has happened. First, Man has multiplied on her hands until there are as many men as women; so that she has been unable to employ for her purposes more than a fraction of the immense energy she has left at his disposal by saving him the exhausting labor of gestation. This superfluous energy has gone to his brain and to his muscle. He has become too strong to be controlled by her bodily, and too imaginative and mentally vigorous to be content with mere self-reproduction. He has created civilization without consulting her, taking her domestic labor for granted as the foundation of it.

ANA That is true, at all events.

THE DEVIL Yes; and this civilization! what is it, after all?

DON JUAN After all, an excellent peg to hang your cynical commonplaces on; but before all, it is an attempt on Man's part to make himself something more than the mere instrument of Woman's purpose. So far, the result of Life's continual effort not only to maintain itself, but to achieve higher and higher organization and completer self-consciousness, is only, at best, a doubtful campaign between its forces and those of Death and Degeneration. The battles in this campaign are mere blunders, mostly won, like actual military battles, in spite of the commanders.

THE STATUE That is a dig at me. No matter: go on, go on.

DON JUAN It is a dig at a much higher power than you, Commander. Still, you must have noticed in your profession that even a stupid general can win battles when the enemy's general is a little stupider.

THE STATUE [very seriously] Most true, Juan, most true. Some donkeys have amazing luck.

DON JUAN Well, the Life Force is stupid; but it is not so stupid as the forces of Death and Degeneration. Besides, these are in its pay all the time. And so Life wins, after a fashion. What mere copiousness of fecundity can supply and mere greed preserve, we possess. The survival of whatever form of civilization can produce the best rifle and the best fed riflemen is assured.

THE DEVIL Exactly! the survival, not of the most effective means of Life but of the most effective means of Death. You always come back to my point, in spite of your wrigglings and evasions and sophistries, not to mention the intolerable length of your speeches.

DON JUAN Oh, come! who began making long speeches? However, if I overtax your intellect, you can leave us and seek the society of love and beauty and the rest of your favorite boredoms.

THE DEVIL [much offended] This is not fair, DON JUAN, and not civil. I am also on the intellectual plane. Nobody can appreciate it more than I do. I am arguing fairly with you, and, I think, successfully refuting you. Let us go on for another hour if you like.

DON JUAN Good: let us.

THE STATUE Not that I see any prospect of your coming to any point in particular, Juan. Still, since in this place, instead of merely killing time we have to kill eternity, go ahead by all means.

DON JUAN [somewhat impatiently] My point, you marble-headed old masterpiece, is only a step ahead of you. Are we agreed that Life is a force which has made innumerable experiments in organizing itself; that the mammoth and the man, the mouse and the megatherium, the flies and the fleas and the Fathers of the Church, are all more or less successful attempts to build up that raw force into higher and higher individuals, the ideal individual being omnipotent, omniscient, infallible, and withal completely, unilludedly self-conscious: in short, a god?

THE DEVIL I agree, for the sake of argument.

THE STATUE I agree, for the sake of avoiding argument.

ANA I most emphatically disagree as regards the Fathers of the Church; and I must beg you not to drag them into the argument.

DON JUAN I did so purely for the sake of alliteration, Ana; and I shall make no further allusion to them. And now, since we are, with that exception, agreed so far, will you not agree with me further that Life has not measured the success of its attempts at godhead by the beauty or bodily perfection of the result, since in both these respects the birds, as our friend Aristophanes long ago pointed out, are so extraordinarily superior, with their power of flight and their lovely plumage, and, may I add, the touching poetry of their loves and nestings, that it is inconceivable that Life, having once produced them, should, if love and beauty were her object, start off on another line and labor at the clumsy elephant and the hideous ape, whose grandchildren we are?

ANA Aristophanes was a heathen; and you, Juan, I am afraid, are very little better.

THE DEVIL You conclude, then, that Life was driving at clumsiness and ugliness?

DON JUAN No, perverse devil that you are, a thousand times no. Life was driving at brains - at its darling object: an organ by which it can attain not only self-consciousness but self-understanding.

THE STATUE This is metaphysics, Juan. Why the devil should - [to the Devil] I beg your pardon.

THE DEVIL Pray don't mention it. I have always regarded the use of my name to secure additional emphasis as a high compliment to me. It is quite at your service, Commander.

THE STATUE Thank you: thats very good of you. Even in heaven, I never quite got out of my old military habits of speech. What I was going to ask Juan was why Life should bother itself about getting a brain. Why should it want to understand itself? Why not be content to enjoy itself?

DON JUAN Without a brain, Commander, you would enjoy yourself without knowing it, and so lose all the fun.

THE STATUE True, most true. But I am quite content with brain enough to know that I'm enjoying myself. I don't want to understand why. In fact, I'd rather not. My experience is that one's pleasures don't bear thinking about.

DON JUAN That is why intellect is so unpopular. But to Life, the force behind the Man, intellect is a necessity, because without it he blunders into death. Just as Life, after ages of struggle, evolved that wonderful bodily organ the eye, so that the living organism could see where it was going and what was coming to help or threaten it, and thus avoid a thousand dangers that formerly slew it, so it is evolving today a mind's eye that shall see, not the physical world, but the purpose of Life, and thereby enable the individual to work for that purpose instead of thwarting and baffling it by setting up shortsighted personal aims as at present. Even as it is, only one sort of man has ever been happy, has ever been universally respected among all the conflicts of interests and illusions.

THE STATUE You mean the military man.

DON JUAN Commander: I do not mean the military man. When the military man approaches, the world locks up its spoons and packs off its womankind. No: I sing, not arms and the hero, but the philosophic man: he who seeks in contemplation to discover the inner will of the world, in invention to discover the means of fulfilling that will, and in action to do that will by the so-discovered means. Of all other sorts of men I declare myself tired. They are tedious failures. When I was on earth, professors of all sorts prowled round me feeling for an unhealthy spot in me on which they could fasten. The doctors of medicine bade me consider what I must do to save my body, and offered me quack cures for imaginary diseases. I replied that I was not a hypochondriac; so they called me Ignoramus and went their way. The doctors of divinity bade me consider what I must do to save my soul; but I was not a spiritual hypochondriac any more than a bodily one, and would not trouble myself about that either; so they called me Atheist and went their way. After them came the politician, who said there was only one purpose in nature, and that was to get him into parliament. I told him I did not care whether he got into parliament or not; so he called me Mugwump and went his way. Then came the romantic man, the Artist, with his love songs and his paintings and his poems; and with him I had great delight for many years, and some profit; for I cultivated my senses for his sake; and his songs taught me to hear better, his paintings to see better, and his poems to feel more deeply. But he led me at last into the worship of Woman.

ANA Juan!

DON JUAN Yes: I came to believe that in her voice was all the music of the song, in her face all the beauty of the painting, and in her soul all the emotion of the poem.

ANA And you were disappointed, I suppose. Well, was it her fault that you attributed all these perfections to her?

DON JUAN Yes, partly. For with a wonderful instinctive cunning, she kept silent and allowed me to glorify her: to mistake my own visions, thoughts, and feelings for hers. Now my friend the romantic man was often too poor or too timid to approach those women who were beautiful or refined enough to seem to realize his ideal; and so he went to his grave believing in his dream. But I was more favored by nature and circumstance. I was of noble birth and rich; and when my person did not please, my conversation flattered, though I generally found myself fortunate in both.

THE STATUE Coxcomb!

DON JUAN Yes; but even my coxcombry pleased. Well, I found that when I had touched a woman's imagination, she would allow me to persuade myself that she loved me; but when my suit was granted she never said "I am happy: my love is satisfied": she always said, first, "At last, the barriers are down," and second, "When will you come again?"

ANA That is exactly what men say.

DON JUAN I protest I never said it. But all women say it. Well, these two speeches always alarmed me; for the first meant that the lady's impulse had been solely to throw down my fortifications and gain my citadel; and the second openly announced that henceforth she regarded me as her property, and counted my time as already wholly at her disposal.

THE DEVIL That is where your want of heart came in.

THE STATUE [shaking his head] You shouldnt repeat what a woman says, Juan.

ANA [severely] It should be sacred to you.

THE STATUE Still, they certainly do say it. I never minded the barriers; but there was always a slight shock about the other, unless one was very hard hit indeed.

DON JUAN Then the lady, who had been happy and idle enough before, became anxious, preoccupied with me, always intriguing, conspiring, pursuing, watching, waiting, bent wholly on making sure of her prey: I being the prey, you understand. Now this was not what I had bargained for. It may have been very proper and very natural; but it was not music, painting, poetry, and joy incarnated in a beautiful woman. I ran away from it. I ran away from it very often: in fact I became famous for running away from it.

ANA Infamous, you mean.

DON JUAN I did not run away from you. Do you blame me for running away from the others?

ANA Nonsense, man. You are talking to a woman of 77 now. If you had had the chance, you would have run away from me too - if I had let you. You would not have found it so easy with me as with some of the others. If men will not be faithful to their home and their duties, they must be made to be. I daresay you all want to marry lovely incarnations of music and painting and poetry. Well, you can't have them, because they don't exist. If flesh and blood is not good enough for you you must go without: thats all. Women have to put up with flesh-and-blood husbands - and little enough of that too, sometimes; and you will have to put up with flesh-and-blood wives. [The Devil looks dubious. The Statue makes a wry face]. I see you don't like that, any of you; but it's true, for all that; so if you don't like it you can lump it.

DON JUAN My dear lady, you have put my whole case against romance into a few sentences. That is just why I turned my back on the romantic man with the artist nature, as he called his infatuation. I thanked him for teaching me to use my eyes and ears; but I told him that his beauty worshipping and happiness hunting and woman idealizing was not worth a dump as a philosophy of life; so he called me Philistine and went his way.

ANA It seems that Woman taught you something, too, with all her defects.

DON JUAN She did more: she interpreted all the other teaching for me. Ah, my friends, when the barriers were down for the first time, what an astounding illumination! I had been prepared for infatuation, for intoxication, for all the illusions of love's young dream; and lo! never was my perception clearer, nor my criticism more ruthless. The most jealous rival of my mistress never saw every blemish in her more keenly than I. I was not duped: I took her without chloroform.

ANA But you did take her.

DON JUAN That was the revelation. Up to that moment I had never lost the sense of being my own master; never consciously taken a single step until my reason had examined and approved it. I had come to believe that I was a purely rational creature: a thinker! I said, with the foolish philosopher, "I think; therefore I am." It was Woman who taught me to say "I am; therefore I think." And also "I would think more; therefore I must be more."

THE STATUE This is extremely abstract and metaphysical, Juan. If you would stick to the concrete, and put your discoveries in the form of entertaining anecdotes about your adventures with women, your conversation would be easier to follow.

DON JUAN Bah! what need I add? Do you not understand that when I stood face to face with Woman, every fibre in my clear critical brain warned me to spare her and save myself. My morals said No. My conscience said No. My chivalry and pity for her said No. My prudent regard for myself said No. My ear, practised on a thousand songs and symphonies; my eye, exercised on a thousand paintings; tore her voice, her features, her color to shreds. I caught all those tell-tale resemblances to her father and mother by which I knew what she would be like in thirty years' time. I noted the gleam of gold from a dead tooth in the laughing mouth: I made curious observations of the strange odors of the chemistry of the nerves. The visions of my romantic reveries, in which I had trod the plains of heaven with a deathless, ageless creature of coral and ivory, deserted me in that supreme hour. I remembered them and desperately strove to recover their illusion; but they now seemed the emptiest of inventions: my judgment was not to be corrupted: my brain still said No on every issue. And whilst I was in the act of framing my excuse to the lady, Life seized me and threw me into her arms as a sailor throws a scrap of fish into the mouth of a seabird.

THE STATUE You might as well have gone without thinking such a lot about it, Juan. You are like all the clever men; you have more brains than is good for you.

THE DEVIL And were you not the happier for the experience, senor DON JUAN?

DON JUAN The happier, no: the wiser, yes. That moment introduced me for the first time to myself, and, through myself, to the world. I saw then how useless it is to attempt to impose conditions on the irresistible force of Life; to preach prudence, careful selection, virtue, honor, chastity-

ANA DON JUAN: a word against chastity is an insult to me.

DON JUAN I say nothing against your chastity, senora, since it took the form of a husband and twelve children. What more could you have done had you been the most abandoned of women?

ANA I could have had twelve husbands and no children: thats what I could have done, Juan. And let me tell you that that would have made all the difference to the earth which I replenished.

THE STATUE Bravo Ana! Juan: you are floored, quelled, annihilated.

DON JUAN No: for though that difference is the true essential difference - Dona Ana has, I admit, gone straight to the real point - yet it is not a difference of love or chastity, or even constancy; for twelve children by twelve different husbands would have replenished the earth perhaps more effectively. Suppose my friend Ottavio had died when you were thirty, you would never have remained a widow: you were too beautiful. Suppose the successor of Ottavio had died when you were forty, you would still have been irresistible; and a woman who marries twice marries three times if she becomes free to do so. Twelve lawful children borne by one highly respectable lady to three different fathers is not impossible nor condemned by public opinion. That such a lady may be more law abiding than the poor girl whom we used to spurn into the gutter for bearing one unlawful infant is no doubt true; but dare you say she is less self-indulgent?

ANA She is more virtuous: that is enough for me.

DON JUAN In that case, what is virtue but the Trade Unionism of the married? Let us face the facts, dear Ana. The Life Force respects marriage only because marriage is a contrivance of its own to secure the greatest number of children and the closest care of them. For honor, chastity, and all the rest of your moral figments it cares not a rap. Marriage is the most licentious of human institutions -

ANA Juan!

THE STATUE [protesting] Really!-

DON JUAN [determinedly] I say the most licentious of human institutions: that is the secret of its popularity. And a woman seeking a husband is the most unscrupulous of all the beasts of prey. The confusion of marriage with morality has done more to destroy the conscience of the human race than any other single error. Come, Ana! do not look shocked: you know better than any of us that marriage is a mantrap baited with simulated accomplishments and delusive idealizations. When your sainted mother, by dint of scoldings and punishments, forced you to learn how to play half a dozen pieces on the spinet - which she hated as much as you did - had she any other purpose than to delude your suitors into the belief that your husband would have in his home an angel who would fill it with melody, or at least play him to sleep after dinner? You married my friend Ottavio: well, did you ever open the spinet from the hour when the Church united him to you?

ANA You are a fool, Juan. A young married woman has something else to do than sit at the spinet without any support for her back; so she gets out of the habit of playing.

DON JUAN Not if she loves music. No: believe me, she only throws away the bait when the bird is in the net.

ANA [bitterly] And men, I suppose, never throw off the mask when their bird is in the net. The husband never becomes negligent, selfish, brutal - oh, never!

DON JUAN What do these recriminations prove, Ana? Only that the hero is as gross an imposture as the heroine.

ANA It is all nonsense: most marriages are perfectly comfortable.

DON JUAN "Perfectly" is a strong expression, Ana. What you mean is that sensible people make the best of one another. Send me to the galleys and chain me to the felon whose number happens to be next before mine; and I must accept the inevitable and make the best of the companionship. Many such companionships, they tell me, are touchingly affectionate; and most are at least tolerably friendly. But that does not make a chain a desirable ornament nor the galleys an abode of bliss. Those who talk most about the blessings of marriage and the constancy of its vows are the very people who declare that if the chain were broken and the prisoners left free to choose, the whole social fabric would fly asunder. You cannot have the argument both ways. If the prisoner is happy, why lock him in? If he is not, why pretend that he is?

ANA At all events, let me take an old woman's privilege again, and tell you flatly that marriage peoples the world and debauchery does not.

DON JUAN How if a time come when this shall cease to be true? Do you not know that where there is a will there is a way? that whatever Man really wishes to do he will finally discover a means of doing? Well, you have done your best, you virtuous ladies, and others of your way of thinking, to bend Man's mind wholly towards honorable love as the highest good, and to understand by honorable love, romance and beauty and happiness in the possession of beautiful, refined, delicate, affectionate women. You have taught women to value their own youth, health, shapeliness, and refinement above all things. Well, what place have squalling babies and household cares in this exquisite paradise of the senses and emotions? Is it not the inevitable end of it all that the human will shall say to the human brain: Invent me a means by which I can have love, beauty, romance, emotion, passion, without their wretched penalties, their expenses, their worries, their trials, their illnesses and agonies and risks of death, their retinue of servants and nurses and doctors and schoolmasters.

THE DEVIL All this, senor DON JUAN, is realized here in my realm.

DON JUAN Yes, at the cost of death. Man will not take it at that price: he demands the romantic delights of your hell whilst he is still on earth. Well, the means will be found: the brain will not fail when the will is in earnest. The day is coming when great nations will find their numbers dwindling from census to census; when the six roomed villa will rise in price above the family mansion; when the viciously reckless poor and the stupidly pious rich will delay the extinction of the race only by degrading it; whilst the boldly prudent, the thriftily selfish and ambitious, the imaginative and poetic, the lovers of money and solid comfort, the worshippers of success, of art, and of love, will all oppose to the Force of Life the device of sterility.

THE STATUE That is all very eloquent, my young friend; but if you had lived to Ana's age, or even to mine, you would have learned that the people who get rid of the fear of poverty and children and all the other family troubles, and devote themselves to having a good time of it, only leave their minds free for the fear of old age and ugliness and impotence and death. The childless laborer is more tormented by his wife's idleness and her constant demands for amusement and distraction than he could be by twenty children; and his wife is more wretched than he. I have had my share of vanity; for as a young man I was admired by women; and as a statue I am praised by art critics. But I confess that had I found nothing to do in the world but wallow in these delights I should have cut my throat. When I married Ana's mother - or perhaps, to be strictly correct, I should rather say when I at last gave in and allowed Ana's mother to marry me - I knew that I was planting thorns in my pillow, and that marriage for me, a swaggering young officer thitherto unvanquished, meant defeat and capture.

ANA [scandalized] Father!

THE STATUE I am sorry to shock you, my love; but since Juan has stripped every rag of decency from the discussion I may as well tell the frozen truth.

ANA Hmf! I suppose I was one of the thorns.

THE STATUE By no means: you were often a rose. You see, your mother had most of the trouble you gave.

DON JUAN Then may I ask, Commander, why you have left Heaven to come here and wallow, as you express it, in sentimental beatitudes which you confess would once have driven you to cut your throat?

THE STATUE [struck by this] Egad, thats true.

THE DEVIL [alarmed] What! You are going back from your word! [To Don Juan] And all your philosophizing has been nothing but a mask for proselytizing! [To the Statue] Have you forgotten already the hideous dulness from which I am offering you a refuge here? [To DON JUAN] And does your demonstration of the approaching sterilization and extinction of mankind lead to anything better than making the most of those pleasures of art and love which you yourself admit refined you, elevated you, developed you?

DON JUAN I never demonstrated the extinction of mankind. Life cannot will its own extinction either in its blind amorphous state or in any of the forms into which it has organized itself. I had not finished when His Excellency interrupted me.

THE STATUE I begin to doubt whether you ever will finish, my friend. You are extremely fond of hearing yourself talk.

DON JUAN True; but since you have endured so much, you may as well endure to the end. Long before this sterilization which I described becomes more than a clearly foreseen possibility, the reaction will begin. The great central purpose of breeding the race: ay, breeding it to heights now deemed superhuman: that purpose which is now hidden in a mephitic cloud of love and romance and prudery and fastidiousness, will break through into clear sunlight as a purpose no longer to be confused with the gratification of personal fancies, the impossible realization of boys' and girls' dreams of bliss, or the need of older people for companionship or money. The plain-spoken marriage services of the vernacular Churches will no longer be abbreviated and half suppressed as indelicate. The sober decency, earnestness, and authority of their declaration of the real purpose of marriage will be honored and accepted, whilst their romantic vowings and pledgings and until-death-do-us-partings and the like will be expunged as unbearable frivolities. Do my sex the justice to admit, senora, that we have always recognized that the sex relation is not a personal or friendly relation at all.

ANA Not a personal or friendly relation! What relation is more personal? more sacred? more holy?

DON JUAN Sacred and holy, if you like, Ana, but not personally friendly. Your relation to God is sacred and holy: dare you call it personally friendly? In the sex relation the universal creative energy, of which the parties are both the helpless agents, over-rides and sweeps away all personal considerations, and dispenses with all personal relations. The pair may be utter strangers to one another, speaking different languages, differing in race and color, in age and disposition, with no bond between them but a possibility of that fecundity for the sake of which the Life Force throws them into one another's arms at the exchange of a glance. Do we not recognize this by allowing marriages to be made by parents without consulting the woman? Have you not often expressed your disgust at the immorality of the English nation, in which women and men of noble birth become acquainted and court each other like peasants? And how much does even the peasant know of his bride or she of him before he engages himself? Why, you would not make a man your lawyer or your family doctor on so slight an acquaintance as you would fall in love with and marry him!

ANA Yes, Juan: we know the libertine's philosophy. Always ignore the consequences to the woman.

DON JUAN The consequences, yes: they justify her fierce grip of the man. But surely you do not call that attachment a sentimental one. As well call the policeman's attachment to his prisoner a love relation.

ANA You see you have to confess that marriage is necessary, though, according to you, love is the slightest of all human relations.

DON JUAN How do you know that it is not the greatest of all human relations? far too great to be a personal matter. Could your father have served his country if he had refused to kill any enemy of Spain unless he personally hated him? Can a woman serve her country if she refuses to marry any man she does not personally love? You know it is not so: the woman of noble birth marries as the man of noble birth fights, on political and family grounds, not on personal ones.

THE STATUE [impressed] A very clever point that, Juan: I must think it over. You are really full of ideas. How did you come to think of this one?

DON JUAN I learnt it by experience. When I was on earth, and made those proposals to ladies which, though universally condemned, have made me so interesting a hero of legend, I was not infrequently met in some such way as this. The lady would say that she would countenance my advances, provided they were honorable. On inquiring what that proviso meant, I found that it meant that I proposed to get possession of her property if she had any, or to undertake her support for life if she had not; that I desired her continual companionship, counsel, and conversation to the end of my days, and would take a most solemn oath to be always enraptured by them above all, that I would turn my back on all other women for ever for her sake. I did not object to these conditions because they were exorbitant and inhuman: it was their extraordinary irrelevance that prostrated me. I invariably replied with perfect frankness that I had never dreamt of any of these things; that unless the lady's character and intellect were equal or superior to my own, her conversation must degrade and her counsel mislead me; that her constant companionship might, for all I knew, become intolerably tedious to me; that I could not answer for my feelings for a week in advance, much less to the end of my life; that to cut me off from all natural and unconstrained intercourse with half my fellow creatures would narrow and warp me if I submitted to it, and, if not, would bring me under the curse of clandestinity; that, finally, my proposals to her were wholly unconnected with any of these matters, and were the outcome of a perfectly simple impulse of my manhood towards her womanhood.

ANA You mean that it was an immoral impulse.

DON JUAN Nature, my dear lady, is what you call immoral. I blush for it; but I cannot help it. Nature is a pandar, Time a wrecker, and Death a murderer. I have always preferred to stand up to those facts and build institutions on their recognition. You prefer to propitiate the three devils by proclaiming their chastity, their thrift, and their loving kindness; and to base your institutions on these flatteries. Is it any wonder that the institutions do not work smoothly?

THE STATUE What used the ladies to say, Juan?

DON JUAN Oh, come! Confidence for confidence. First tell me what you used to say to the ladies.

THE STATUE I! Oh, I swore that I would be faithful to the death; that I should die if they refused me; that no woman could ever be to me what she was -

ANA She! Who?

THE STATUE Whoever it happened to be at the time, my dear. I had certain things I always said. One of them was that even when I was eighty, one white hair of the woman I loved would make me tremble more than the thickest gold tress from the most beautiful young head. Another was that I could not bear the thought of anyone else being the mother of my children.

DON JUAN [revolted] You old rascal!

THE STATUE [stoutly] Not a bit; for I really believed it with all my soul at the moment. I had a heart: not like you. And it was this sincerity that made me successful.

DON JUAN Sincerity! To be fool enough to believe a ramping, stamping, thumping lie: that is what you call sincerity! To be so greedy for a woman that you deceive yourself in your eagerness to deceive her: sincerity, you call it!

THE STATUE Oh damn your sophistries! I was a man in love, not a lawyer. And the women loved me for it, bless them!

DON JUAN They made you think so. What will you say when I tell you that though I played the lawyer so callously, they made me think so too? I also had my moments of infatuation in which I gushed nonsense and believed it. Sometimes the desire to give pleasure by saying beautiful things so rose in me on the flood of emotion that I said them recklessly. At other times I argued against myself with a devilish coldness that drew tears. But I found it just as hard to escape when I was cruel as when I was kind. When the lady's instinct was set on me, there was nothing for it but lifelong servitude or flight.

ANA You dare boast, before me and my father, that every woman found you irresistible.

DON JUAN Am I boasting? It seems to me that I cut the most pitiable of figures. Besides, I said "when the lady's instinct was set on me." It was not always so; and then, heavens! what transports of virtuous indignation! what overwhelming defiance to the dastardly seducer! what scenes of Imogen and Iachimo!

ANA I made no scenes. I simply called my father.

DON JUAN And he came, sword in hand, to vindicate outraged honor and morality by murdering me.

THE STATUE Murdering! What do you mean? Did I kill you or did you kill me?

DON JUAN Which of us was the better fencer?

THE STATUE I was.

DON JUAN Of course you were. And yet you, the hero of those scandalous adventures you have just been relating to us, you had the effrontery to pose as the avenger of outraged morality and condemn me to death! You would have slain me but for an accident.

THE STATUE I was expected to, Juan. That is how things were arranged on earth. I was not a social reformer; and I always did what it was customary for a gentleman to do.

DON JUAN That may account for your attacking me, but not for the revolting hypocrisy of your subsequent proceedings as a statue.

THE STATUE That all came of my going to heaven.

THE DEVIL I still fail to see, senor DON JUAN, that these episodes in your earthly career and in that of the senor Commander in any way discredit my view of life. Here, I repeat, you have all that you sought without anything that you shrank from.

DON JUAN On the contrary, here I have everything that disappointed me without anything that I have not already tried and found wanting. I tell you that as long as I can conceive something better than myself I cannot be easy unless I am striving to bring it into existence or clearing the way for it. That is the law of my life. That is the working within me of Life's incessant aspiration to higher organization, wider, deeper, intenser self-consciousness, and clearer self-understanding. It was the supremacy of this purpose that reduced love for me to the mere pleasure of a moment, art for me to the mere schooling of my faculties, religion for me to a mere excuse for laziness, since it had set up a God who looked at the world and saw it was good, against the instinct in me that looked through my eyes at the world and saw that it could be improved. I tell you that in the pursuit of my own pleasure, my own health, my own fortune, I have never known happiness. It was not love for Woman that delivered me into her hands: it was fatigue, exhaustion. When I was a child, and bruised my head against a stone, I ran to the nearest woman and cried away my pain against her apron. When I grew up, and bruised my soul against the brutalities and stupidities with which I had to strive, I did again just what I had done as a child. I have enjoyed, too, my rests, my recuperations, my breathing times, my very prostrations after strife; but rather would I be dragged through all the circles of the foolish Italian's Inferno than through the pleasures of Europe. That is what has made this place of eternal pleasures so deadly to me. It is the absence of this instinct in you that makes you that strange monster called a Devil. It is the success with which you have diverted the attention of men from their real purpose, which in one degree or another is the same as mine, to yours, that has earned you the name of The Tempter. It is the fact that they are doing your will, or rather drifting with your want of will, instead of doing their own, that makes them the uncomfortable, false, restless, artificial, petulant, wretched creatures they are.

THE DEVIL [mortified] senor DON JUAN: you are uncivil to my friends.

DON JUAN Pooh! why should I be civil to them or to you? In this Palace of Lies a truth or two will not hurt you. Your friends are all the dullest dogs I know. They are not beautiful: they are only decorated. They are not clean: they are only shaved and starched. They are not dignified: they are only fashionably dressed. They are not educated: they are only college passmen. They are not religious: they are only pewrenters. They are not moral: they are only conventional. They are not virtuous: they are only cowardly. They are not even vicious: they are only "frail." They are not artistic: they are only lascivious. They are not prosperous: they are only rich. They are not loyal, they are only servile; not dutiful, only sheepish; not public spirited, only patriotic; not courageous, only quarrelsome; not determined, only obstinate; not masterful, only domineering; not self-controlled, only obtuse; not self-respecting, only vain; not kind, only sentimental; not social, only gregarious; not considerate, only polite; not intelligent, only opinionated; not progressive, only factious; not imaginative, only superstitious; not just, only vindictive; not generous, only propitiatory; not disciplined, only cowed; and not truthful at all: liars every one of them, to the very backbone of their souls.

THE STATUE Your flow of words is simply amazing, Juan. How I wish I could have talked like that to my soldiers.

THE DEVIL It is mere talk, though. It has all been said before; but what change has it ever made? What notice has the world ever taken of it?

DON JUAN Yes, it is mere talk. But why is it mere talk? Because, my friend, beauty, purity, respectability, religion, morality, art, patriotism, bravery, and the rest are nothing but words which I or anyone else can turn inside out like a glove. Were they realities, you would have to plead guilty to my indictment; but fortunately for your self-respect, my diabolical friend, they are not realities. As you say, they are mere words, useful for duping barbarians into adopting civilization, or the civilized poor into submitting to be robbed and enslaved. That is the family secret of the governing caste; and if we who are of that caste aimed at more Life for the world instead of at more power and luxury for our miserable selves, that secret would make us great. Now, since I, being a nobleman, am in the secret too, think how tedious to me must be your unending cant about all these moralistic figments, and how squalidly disastrous your sacrifice of your lives to them! If you even believed in your moral game enough to play it fairly, it would be interesting to watch; but you don't: you cheat at every trick; and if your opponent outcheats you, you upset the table and try to murder him.

THE DEVIL On earth there may be some truth in this, because the people are uneducated and cannot appreciate my religion of love and beauty; but here -

DON JUAN Oh yes: I know. Here there is nothing but love and beauty. Ugh! it is like sitting for all eternity at the first act of a fashionable play, before the complications begin. Never in my worst moments of superstitious terror on earth did I dream that hell was so horrible. I live, like a hair-dresser, in the continual contemplation of beauty, toying with silken tresses. I breathe an atmosphere of sweetness, like a confectioner's shopboy. Commander: are there any beautiful women in Heaven?

THE STATUE None. Absolutely none. All dowdies. Not two pennorth of jewellery among a dozen of them. They might be men of fifty.

DON JUAN I am impatient to get there. Is the word beauty ever mentioned; and are there any artistic people?

THE STATUE I give you my word they wont admire a fine statue even when it walks past them.

DON JUAN I go.

THE DEVIL DON JUAN: shall I be frank with you?

DON JUAN Were you not so before?

THE DEVIL As far as I went, yes. But I will now go further, and confess to you that men get tired of everything, of heaven no less than of hell; and that all history is nothing but a record of the oscillations of the world between these two extremes. An epoch is but a swing of the pendulum; and each generation thinks the world is progressing because it is always moving. But when you are as old as I am; when you have a thousand times wearied of heaven, like myself and the Commander, and a thousand times wearied of hell, as you are wearied now, you will no longer imagine that every swing from heaven to hell is an emancipation, every swing from hell to heaven an evolution. Where you now see reform, progress, fulfilment of upward tendency, continual ascent by Man on the stepping stones of his dead selves to higher things, you will see nothing but an infinite comedy of illusion. You will discover the profound truth of the saying of my friend Koheleth, that there is nothing new under the sun. Vanitas vanitatum -

DON JUAN [out of all patience] By Heaven, this is worse than your cant about love and beauty. Clever dolt that you are, is a man no better than a worm, or a dog than a wolf, because he gets tired of everything? Shall he give up eating because he destroys his appetite in the act of gratifying it? Is a field idle when it is fallow? Can the Commander expend his hellish energy here without accumulating heavenly energy for his next term of blessedness? Granted that the great Life Force has hit on the device of the clockmaker's pendulum, and uses the earth for its bob; that the history of each oscillation, which seems so novel to us the actors, is but the history of the last oscillation repeated; nay more, that in the unthinkable infinitude of time the sun throws off the earth and catches it again a thousand times as a circus rider throws up a ball, and that our agelong epochs are but the moments between the toss and the catch, has the colossal mechanism no purpose?

THE DEVIL None, my friend. You think, because you have a purpose, Nature must have one. You might as well expect it to have fingers and toes because you have them.

DON JUAN But I should not have them if they served no purpose. And I, my friend am as much a part of Nature as my own finger is a part of me. If my finger is the organ by which I grasp the sword and the mandoline, my brain is the organ by which Nature strives to understand itself. My dog's brain serves only my dog's purposes; but my own brain labors at a knowledge which does nothing for me personally but make my body bitter to me and my decay and death a calamity. Were I not possessed with a purpose beyond my own I had better be a ploughman than a philosopher; for the ploughman lives as long as the philosopher, eats more, sleeps better, and rejoices in the wife of his bosom with less misgiving. This is because the philosopher is in the grip of the Life Force. This Life Force says to him "I have done a thousand wonderful things unconsciously by merely willing to live and following the line of least resistance: now I want to know myself and my destination, and choose my path; so I have made a special brain - a philosopher's brain - to grasp this knowledge for me as the husbandman's hand grasps the plough for me. And this" says the Life Force to the philosopher "must thou strive to do for me until thou diest, when I will make another brain and another philosopher to carry on the work."

THE DEVIL What is the use of knowing?

DON JUAN Why, to be able to choose the line of greatest advantage instead of yielding in the direction of the least resistance. Does a ship sail to its destination no better than a log drifts nowhither? The philosopher is Nature's pilot. And there you have our difference: to be in hell is to drift: to be in heaven is to steer.

THE DEVIL On the rocks, most likely.

DON JUAN Pooh! which ship goes oftenest on the rocks or to the bottom? the drifting ship or the ship with a pilot on board?

THE DEVIL Well, well, go your way, senor DON JUAN. I prefer to be my own master and not the tool of any blundering universal force. I know that beauty is good to look at; that music is good to hear; that love is good to feel; and that they are all good to think about and talk about. I know that to be well exercised in these sensations, emotions, and studies is to be a refined and cultivated being. Whatever they may say of me in churches on earth, I know that it is universally admitted in good society that the Prince of Darkness is a gentleman; and that is enough for me. As to your Life Force, which you think irresistible, it is the most resistible thing in the world for a person of any character. But if you are naturally vulgar and credulous, as all reformers are, it will thrust you first into religion, where you will sprinkle water on babies to save their souls from me; then it will drive you from religion into science, where you will snatch the babies from the water sprinkling and inoculate them with disease to save them from catching it accidentally; then you will take to politics, where you will become the catspaw of corrupt functionaries and the henchman of ambitious humbugs; and the end will be despair and decrepitude, broken nerve and shattered hopes, vain regrets for that worst and silliest of wastes and sacrifices, the waste and sacrifice of the power of enjoyment: in a word, the punishment of the fool who pursues the better before he has secured the good.

DON JUAN But at least I shall not be bored. The service of the Life Force has that advantage, at all events. So fare you well, senor Satan.

THE DEVIL [amiably] Fare you well, DON JUAN. I shall often think of our interesting chats about things in general. I wish you every happiness: Heaven, as I said before, suits some people. But if you should change your mind, do not forget that the gates are always open here to the repentant prodigal. If you feel at any time that warmth of heart, sincere unforced affection, innocent enjoyment, and warm, breathing, palpitating reality -

DON JUAN Why not say flesh and blood at once, though we have left those two greasy commonplaces behind us?

THE DEVIL [angrily] You throw my friendly farewell back in my teeth, then, DON JUAN?

DON JUAN By no means. But though there is much to be learnt from a cynical devil, I really cannot stand a sentimental one. senor Commander: you know the way to the frontier of hell and heaven. Be good enough to direct me.

THE STATUE Oh, the frontier is only the difference between two ways of looking at things. Any road will take you across it if you really want to get there.

DON JUAN Good. [Saluting Dona Ana] senora: your servant.

ANA But I am going with you.

DON JUAN I can find my own way to heaven, Ana; not yours [he vanishes].

ANA How annoying!

THE STATUE [calling after him] Bon voyage, Juan! [He wafts a final blast of his great rolling chords after him as a parting salute. A faint echo of the first ghostly melody comes back in acknowledgment]. Ah! there he goes. [Puffing a long breath out through his lips] Whew! How he does talk! They'll never stand it in heaven.

THE DEVIL [gloomily] His going is a political defeat. I cannot keep these Life Worshippers: they all go. This is the greatest loss I have had since that Dutch painter went: a fellow who would paint a hag of 70 with as much enjoyment as a Venus of 20.

THE STATUE I remember: he came to heaven. Rembrandt.

THE DEVIL Ay, Rembrandt. There is something unnatural about these fellows. Do not listen to their gospel, senor Commander: it is dangerous. Beware of the pursuit of the Superhuman: it leads to an indiscriminate contempt for the Human. To a man, horses and dogs and cats are mere species, outside the moral world. Well, to the Superman, men and women are a mere species too, also outside the moral world. This DON JUAN was kind to women and courteous to men as your daughter here was kind to her pet cats and dogs; but such kindness is a denial of the exclusively human character of the soul.

THE STATUE And who the deuce is the Superman?

THE DEVIL Oh, the latest fashion among the Life Force fanatics. Did you not meet in Heaven, among the new arrivals, that German Polish madman? what was his name? Nietzsche?

THE STATUE Never heard of him.

THE DEVIL Well, he came here first, before he recovered his wits. I had some hopes of him; but he was a confirmed Life Force worshipper. It was he who raked up the Superman, who is as old as Prometheus; and the 20th century will run after this newest of the old crazes when it gets tired of the world, the flesh, and your humble servant.

THE STATUE Superman is a good cry; and a good cry is half the battle. I should like to see this Nietzsche.

THE DEVIL Unfortunately he met Wagner here, and had a quarrel with him.

THE STATUE Quite right, too. Mozart for me!

THE DEVIL Oh, it was not about music. Wagner once drifted into Life Force worship, and invented a Superman called Siegfried. But he came to his senses afterwards. So when they met here, Nietzsche denounced him as a renegade; and Wagner wrote a pamphlet to prove that Nietzsche was a Jew; and it ended in Nietzsche's going to heaven in a huff. And a good riddance too. And now, my friend, let us hasten to my palace and celebrate your arrival with a grand musical service.

THE STATUE With pleasure: you're most kind.

THE DEVIL This way, Commander. We go down the old trap [he places himself on the grave trap].

THE STATUE Good. [Reflectively] All the same, the Superman is a fine conception. There is something statuesque about it. [He places himself on the grave trap beside The Devil. It begins to descend slowly. Red glow from the abysss]. Ah, this reminds me of old times.

THE DEVIL And me also.

ANA Stop! [The trap stops].

THE DEVIL You, senora, cannot come this way. You will have an apotheosis. But you will be at the palace before us.

ANA That is not what I stopped you for. Tell me: where can I find the Superman?

THE DEVIL He is not yet created, senora.

THE STATUE And never will be, probably. Let us proceed: the red fire will make me sneeze. [They descend].

ANA Not yet created! Then my work is not yet done. [Crossing herself devoutly] I believe in the Life to Come. [Crying to the universe] A father! a father for the Superman!

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hello-news-fan · 5 years

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Elijah cummings, esteemed longtime Baltimore congressman, has died at sixty-eight Elijah cummings representative Elijah cummings, of Baltimore, died early Thursday at the age of 68, his workplace said. cummings exceeded away at Johns Hopkins medical institution at 2:forty five a.m. from "headaches regarding longstanding fitness challenges," his workplace stated. he hadn't returned to paintings after having a scientific manner that he said could simplest preserve him away for approximately per week, the Baltimore Sun noted. Maya Ockeymoore cummings, the chairwoman of the Maryland democratic birthday celebration and cummings' spouse, stated in an assertion that cummings become "an honorable guy who proudly served his district and the nation with dignity, integrity, compassion, and humility." "he labored until his last breath due to the fact he believed our democracy turned into the very best and exceptional expression of our collective humanity and that our nation's variety turned into our promise, no longer our problem," Rockeymoore cummings stated. "I cherished him deeply and will leave out him dearly." residence speaker nancy Pelosi ordered the flags on the capitol to be flown at 1/2 group of workers in his memory. the white residence, too, lowered its flag. in her weekly press conference on Thursday, Pelosi stated she changed into "devastated by way of the loss" of cummings, who she referred to as "the north superstar" of the residence. she stated she may also rename a bill to lower prescription drug expenses in his honor. "he changed into no longer just a terrific congressman, he become a fantastic man," residence minority leader chuck Schumer stated on Msnbc Thursday morning. Baltimore mayor bernard c. young stated in an announcement that "humans at some stage in the world have lost an effective voice and one of the most powerful and maximum proficient crusaders for social justice." Maryland Governor Larry Hogan, a Republican, stated in an assertion that "congressman cummings leaves at the back of an awesome legacy of fighting for Baltimore metropolis and operating to enhance people's lives. he turned into a passionate and committed public servant whose countless contributions made our state and our country better." president trump praised cummings' "electricity, passion, and wisdom" in a tweet, despite the insults he hurled at cummings this summertime. "my warmest condolences to the family and plenty of pals of congressman Elijah cummings. I was given to look first hand the energy, passion, and expertise of this relatively respected political leader. his paintings and voice on so many fronts might be very difficult, if no longer not possible, to replace!" the president tweeted shortly earlier than nine a.m. the house oversight and reform committee chairman, a Democrat and 23-year residence veteran, changed into a key determine in the impeachment inquiry into Mr. trump and the latest goal of severe criticism from the president. cummings neglected two roll call votes Thursday, the first day lower back following a -week residence recess. he formerly released a statement pronouncing he'd be returned by the time the session resumed. he hadn't taken part in a roll call vote in view that 9/11. the procedure already caused cummings to overlook a September listening to on Washington, d.c., statehood. the announcement didn't detail the method. he previously became handled for coronary heart and knee issues. humble beginnings a sharecropper's son, cummings turned into an impressive orator who passionately encouraged for the bad in his black-majority district, which incorporates a massive portion of Baltimore as well as extra well-to-do suburbs. as chairman of the house oversight and reform committee, cummings led a couple of investigations of Mr. trump's dealings, together with probes in 2019 regarding the president's family members serving in the white house. the president replied via criticizing cummings' district as a "rodent-infested mess" wherein "no man or women would want to live." the feedback came weeks after Mr. Trump drew bipartisan condemnation following his calls for democratic congresswomen of color to get out of the u.s. "proper now" and cross returned to their "damaged and crime-infested countries." cummings answered that administration authorities need to avoid making "contemptuous, flammable criticism" that handiest serve to isolate and divert the nation from its genuine issues, including mass shootings and racial domination. "those within the highest stages of the government have to prevent invoking worry, using racist language and inspiring reprehensible conduct," cummings said in a speech at the countrywide press club. cummings told the Baltimore solar that he had handiest spoken to Mr. trump one-on-one once, in 2017. cummings recalled saying: "Mr. President, you're now 70-some thing, I am 60-some thing. very quickly you and that I could be dancing with the angels. the thing which you and that I need to do is figure out what we can do — what present are we able to carry to generations unborn?" operating way up cummings' career spanned many years in Maryland politics.he rose through the positions of the Maryland living arrangement of agents sooner than winning his congressional seat in a one of a kind political decision in 1996 to supplant previous delegate Kwesi Mfume, who left the seat to steer the NAACP. cummings persevered his rise in Congress. in 2016, he became the senior democrat at the house Benghazi committee, which he said become "not anything more than a taxpayer-funded effort to deliver damage to Hillary Clinton's marketing campaign" for president. cummings become an early supporter of Barack Obama's presidential bid in 2008. throughout his profession, cummings used his fiery voice to focus on the struggles and needs of internal-city citizens. he became a company believer in a few awful lot-debated approaches to help the terrible and addicted, which include needle trade programs as a way to lessen the spread of aids. cummings become very famous in his district, where he become a key member of the community. cummings stated in an interview with "60 minutes" in January that he changed into one of the few members of congress who lived in an inner town environment. "I love to be among my parts. allow me to tell you, something guy if I do not do properly in this block I'm in problem. I imply, in case you wanna take a ballot, if I lost on this block I would as well pass-- I would as nicely stay home," cummings said in the interview. cummings turned into born on Jan. 18, 1951. in grade faculty, a counselor told cummings he become too sluggish to research and spoke poorly and he could in no way fulfill his dream of turning into a legal professional. "I used to be crushed," cummings told the related press in 1996, quickly before he got his seat in congress. "my entire existence changed. I have become very determined." it steeled cummings to show that counselor incorrect. he became no longer only a legal professional, but one of the maximum effective orators inside the Maryland residence of delegates, wherein he entered the workplace in 1983. he rose to become house speaker seasoned team, the first black delegate to hold the position. he might start his remarks slowly, growing his subject matter and raising the emotional warmth until it has become like a sermon from the pulpit. cummings was short to notice the variations between congress and the Maryland fashionable meeting, which has long been controlled through democrats. "after coming from the state wherein, essentially, you had several people running collectively, it is clear that the traces are drawn here," cummings stated approximately a month after coming into office in Washington in 1996. cummings chaired the congressional black caucus from 2003 to 2004, employing a difficult-charging, discover-every-alternative style to position the group inside the countrywide highlight. he cruised to huge victories in the overwhelmingly Democratic district, which had given Maryland its first black congressman in 1970 whilst Parren Mitchell changed into elected. cummings addressed his current health troubles within the January interview with "60 mins." "like I inform my elements, "do not get it twisted. you know, I can also-- my knee may be hurtin' a bit bit, however, my mind is apparent. my undertaking is apparent." and I'm prepared and capable of doing what I have to do. and I'm able to do it to the very high-quality of my capacity, so help me god," cummings said. what occurs now? according to the Baltimore solar, cummings' seat will stay vacant till a unique election is held. hogan, the kingdom's Republican governor, has 10 days to formally call for the unique election, for you to take place no in advance than 65 days after that, which might be late February. hogan's spokesman, mike Ricci, expressed uncertainty to the sun on Thursday morning approximately when the special election might happen. as for cummings' role at the house oversight committee, representative Carolyn Maloney of recent york will fill in as acting chair until democrats select a permanent chief. the timing for whilst to manifest is unclear, in keeping with a senior Democratic leadership aide who spoke to the sun on condition of anonymity. Week News

http://weeeknewss.blogspot.com/2019/10/elijah-cummings-esteemed-longtime.html

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thelostcatpodcast · 5 years

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THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 4: THE HOLLOW CITY: EPISODE 04

SEASON 4: THE HOLLOW CITY: EPISODE 04

Episode released 2nd November 2018

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-4-the-hollow-city-episode-4

Let us get right to the point:

Yes, they were vampires. They were Hollows too, of course. There was nothing at all inside them, just like there wasn’t anything inside at all Benjamin, or the Ghost. But they were very different from the other Hollows. Very different indeed.

THE LOST CAT PODCAST SEASON 4, BY A P CLARKE: THE HOLLOW CITY: EPISODE 4

They were obsessed by what they lacked, which was any insides, and they looked upon those who had insides with a kind of hatred, and also a kind of envy.

They had discovered an elegant solution to this problem though: They had become vampires, and their prey were the humans above ground.

They would creep out at night and attack some solitary human. They would bite them with their sharpened teeth and they would suck out their blood, and tear right through their skin with razor-edged nails and pluck all the insides out. They used files to sharpen their teeth, and they used gathering bags of an indeterminate leather to keep all the insides in.

None of it went to waste, not the blood or the bones, nor the organs, nor the muscles. Back in their lair, hidden from the world and quite impregnable to anyone without an invitation, they ground up all these insides into pastes and ointments and powders and unguents and they turned all of it into make-up. Blood red lipstick, bone white foundation, every kind of pink, green, brown and blue pigment you could think of.

Did you wonder how they came up with such perfect mascara? They scooped out the corneas from Wholes’ eyes and mushed them up.

It is spectacularly effective too. It is a more perfect make-up than any model or movie star has ever worn. They seem to be from a different universe than our own, a universe more real, more colourful, and so much more glamorous than our drab world could ever be.

In this way, they have worked to become more than Hollow, looking with disdain or outright loathing on the rest, maintaining an isolated independence and an absolute refusal to help anyone but themselves.

But Hollows they are, and their make-up has reacted with their thin skin. The insides of these Wholes has bleached out their bodies and made them brittle. The vampires can no longer do without their beautiful masks of human remains and so have to keep a steady supply of fresh insides to turn into their make-up.

Whether you knew it or not, you reacted differently to these creatures: deference, or fear, perhaps awe. You just instinctively reacted to the extremity of their condition.

Lisica had her reaction too:

“So... do you know where they live?”

The Ghost gave her a rather sharp look. They all were carrying Bernard down the street. In his half-filled state he could not slip. The vile muck oozed from his scarred mouth, from his fingertips. His feet had lost their shape entirely and dragged, bloated behind his=m.

“The vampires, I mean. Do you know where they live?” repeated Lisica.

“I do not know,” said the Ghost.

“How many of them there are?”

“No-one knows.”

“What is her name?”

“I have never cared to ask. Come on, we are here.” They were stood a little back from a quiet street, in front of a small copse of trees. “Hold him for me.”

And Lisica took Bernard’s full weight, careful to let his head rest upon her shoulder.

Yes, They are dangerous creatures, these vampires, and not to be trusted. You’ve seen them: their bodies are so thin they can glide and flit like shadows, faster than you can think. You can not hide from them. And you can not stand in the way of their endless hunger. They are selfish and vain. They are ruthless and ravenous. They are dangerous creatures, these vampires.

“Dangerous,” said Lisica, mostly to herself.

The Ghost stopped at a bare patch of ground, seemed to incant some spell Lisica could not hear, and the ground gave way revealing steps leading down.

“Let us go. The hospital is down here.”

The steps led to little more than an earthen tunnel. Bernard was in a bad way. His eyes rolled, he was barely conscious. The stench was overpowering.

“We’ll not let you down, friend,” said Lisica, comfortingly.

“Here!” said the ghost. “Right here. We made it.”

“You made it, soldier boy.”

She was stood by a rough statue made of much the same earth as the tunnel, crudely moulded into the form of a stout man, standing proudly, painted in peeling shades of green. The Ghost reached behind it, rang a hidden bell and a door opened seemingly from the earth itself.

Two figures in clean overalls emerged, took a quick look at Bernard and took him swiftly from their hands.

“You will be safe, Bernard Baxter,” said the Ghost.

They followed the figures through the grubby earthen door and entered in to a bright white corridor, wide and long, lit by fiercely strong lights, walled in shining tile and lined with beds and curtains.

Lisica saw the nurses laying Bernard on to a bed surrounded by machinery, tubes and pumps, and then they swung the curtains shut.

“This is the Barnaban Hospital,” said the lead nurse. “And he will get the best care we have for these injuries. Don’t you worry.”

And as the nurse walked away, the Ghost said “we do not save them all.”

“We can not save the world entire,” said Lisica. “But you have acted, and in acting you have saved.”

“Have I done enough?” said the Ghost. And she looked far passed Lisica then, at a nothing deep inside herself, and her tiny face creased, and a drop of blood ran from the red of her eye, down her cheek.

Then: her face brightened. A commotion from the other side of the ward drew her attention as Bowen walked in, surrounded by a gaggle of playful, if feral-looking, children, and carrying a small girl in his arms. The girl was weeping, and her entire right arm was an angry purple colour, and lying loose, limp and shapeless in her lap.

“A slipping accident. Do not worry, she will be fine. Just stay here a moment.”

And with that the Ghost ran over to Bowen with such simple joy you could forgive yourself for thinking she was just an ordinary girl.

Lisica let them get on with it.

She looked around the ward. So many of the beds were full already. She saw doors led off from the main corridor too, some closed, some locked. She noticed several people were constantly mopping the floor. And she noticed that they decorated this hospital with statues too.

Lisica walked over to them.

Three of them stood by the doors, in positions of surprise, fear and anger. Carved in a much more life-like fashion than the one outside, they were life-size adult figures standing facing a wall. The figures were bizarre to the point of being grotesque. One had its mouth wide open in a scream with its teeth showing. Another was cramped down to a squatting position, looking up with its hands above it, over its face, as if trying to fend something off. Its eyes were so wide. Lisica walked right up to it.

Then the eyes blinked.

Lisica leapt back in surprise bumping into a bed with high sides. There was a sloshing sound and a gurgling cry.

“Be careful!” said a tall, approaching figure. “Don’t disturb them!”

Lisica took a look into the bed and she wasn’t sure what it was she saw: it looked like a puddle with a face.

The figure motioned her to the side. The figure was hooded and robed in some high quality but rather worn material patterned in green and yellow, one colour each side.

“Filled with salt water,” said the figure very quietly, kindly. “They start to lose their shape. We don’t know what to do with them yet. Well, except to make sure we don’t spill any,” he said with a mischievous giggle. And he put his hand out. “Dr Uremides. How do you do?”

“My name is Lisica,” she shook his thin, outstretched hand.

They walked over to the statues.

“We move these ones around every so often so they have a different view at least. They quite like the painting on that wall I am told.”

Lisica looked at the three twisted figures.

“Filled with quick drying cement. Do forgive the hood, I am afraid I have a condition makes the bright lights of the hospital rather difficult.”

Lisica peered in as she could but could see nothing in the darkness of the hood but two mis-matched eyes endlessly darting about.

“Good doughty Bowen has already told me about you, and the things you have done tonight. And I must thank you, by the light of the leaders, for your aid.”

“I did what I did.”

“Come, let me give you a little tour of our humble refuge.”

They walked past the bed where the little girl Bowen had brought in was resting.

“You have seen us slipping, have you not? Yes. Quite a useful little hack for creatures such as us, but if you over do it, as this young girl did, and your insides touch, it causes quite the most intense pain, and a complete paralysis of the affected area.”

Lisica saw the girl’s limp arm being gently massaged with a salve.

“She’ll be fine soon enough. Do not worry about her. But these new weapons they are using,” and he pointed towards the cubicle where they were treating Bernard. “They fill them with…this muck. It is rotten and it gets you through and through. There’s no cure yet for these ones. Come on.”

Dr Uremides led Lisica to the back of the ward, and a very heavy door. The doctor pulled out an extremely ornate key and opened the lock. Lisica, almost by instinct, weighed up the key, the lock and the mechanism. It was solid.

Inside was dark. Pumps and spinneys moved inside contraptions far too complicated to discern the function of, shelves bent with the weight of books and random parts of machines.

Dr Uremides sighed, walking deeper in to the room as his eyes accustomed to the dimness.

“My own little refuge. The bright lights and hubbub can sometimes get to me.”

A great central table stood on old, heavily marked and scratched stone, both stained with all manner of liquids and piled high with half-finished or simply discarded experiments and projects, prizes and curiosities gathered from all over: masks, knives, tubes as thick as bayonets, a bag of an indeterminate leather, this one almost like bone in its whiteness.

“I like to take everything I can. You never know what will be useful,” he said, with a grin.

Deep in the shadows, he lit a gas lamp, and turned the flame to its lowest setting.

“There, that is better. Now please, Lisica, do not be alarmed.”

He gently lowered his hood and Lisica saw that one half of his skull was completely gone. Above his right eye there was simply nothing of him there, from the centre of his forehead down to his ear. The naked orb of his eye rolled completely around and Lisica could see the inside of the back of his head. All along the wound was jagged and half-healed scar tissue.

“My apologies,” he said, with his wild eye spinning.

“None needed.”

“This is a war being waged upon us. You have seen but a skirmish of it. And I apologise that you have become involved. But this is a war. Not control, not containment: destruction. Do you see? These Fillers as they are known are but the foot soldiers. The cruelty, the debasement, of them, speaks to the malignancy of intent in the organisation entire. A hatred. Do you see?”

His eyeball rolled in in his head.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Now, someone of your talents, perhaps we might call upon your skills against these devils at some point?”

“Perhaps you might.”

“Excellent! But first is there anything we can offer as thanks for the aid you have brought to our people this night?”

And Lisica looked straight in to the doctor’s wild eye and said “where are the Vampires?”

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

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mrmichaelchadler · 5 years

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Home Entertainment Consumer Guide: April 11, 2019

10 NEW TO NETFLIX

"All the President's Men" "Bonnie and Clyde" "Deliverance" "The Fifth Element" "King Kong" "Monster House" "Observe and Report" "Pineapple Express" "Sherlock Holmes" "Snatch"

5 NEW TO BLU-RAY/DVD

"Bumblebee"

While I enjoyed the first "Transformers" film for what it was, the sequels that followed ranged from awful to something that could be used to torture me. I hated them all with varying degrees of vitriol. And yet somehow "Bumblebee" made me hate them more because it reminded me of what this series should have been all along: FUN. Discarding most of the nonsense mythology of the Bay sequels, Travis Knight has made a film that wears its '80s influence on its sleeve like a badge of honor. This is an old-fashioned Amblin film that never got made, or almost even a reboot of "The Iron Giant." The point is that it recalls movies with young heroes who become friends with something completely out of this world. It's not perfect, but Hailee Steinfeld's ability to do literally anything at such a young age continues to impress. She's legitimately great here, finding just the right emotional notes and selling her character in a ridiculous situation. I never thought I'd say this again, but I'll be there for the next Transformers movie as long as it's like "Bumblebee."

Buy it here Special Features Sector 7 Archive Deleted and Extended Scenes Outtakes Bee Vision: The Transformers robots of Cybertron Bringing Bumblebee to the Big Screen

"The Man Who Killed Hitler and then the Bigfoot"

This column typically consists only of films that I can wholeheartedly recommend, but I'm closer to Glenn Kenny's opinion of this unusual flick than our own Nick Allen's out of last year's Fantasia Festival. However, it is such a curiosity that I wanted to include it. It's one of those odd movies about which I would personally be a "Rotten Tomato" but feel like maybe you should see and decide for yourself? The reason for that is that it's the definition of a "Your Mileage May Vary" piece of storytelling. If you buy into the remarkably somber and self-serious tone of a film about Sam Elliott's veteran who killed Hitler and now has to kill Bigfoot (no, the title is not a joke) then the movie is likely to work for you. It also feels like the summation of the last couple decades of Elliott's work, and he's always interesting. I just wish the movie didn't think that it needed to balance the inherent ridiculousness of its narrative with such a deadly serious tone.

Buy it here

Special Features Audio Commentary featuring writer-director Robert. D Krzykowski The Making of The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then The Big Foot Deleted Scenes Joe Kraemer Interview Elsie Hooper Short Film Art Gallery

"The Mule"

Warner Brothers really hid Clint Eastwood's latest film from critics in ways that make no sense to me. Sure, Eastwood's conservative leanings and the film's racially-charged plot were bound to lead some critcisms, but the film works overall. In fact, the first hour is some of Clint's best filmmaking in years. It's tightly made, well-acted, and consistently interesting. No one can deny Clint's skill as a filmmaker and that craftsmanship carries the film, even as it gets a bit maudlin and manipulative in the second half. Overall, Eastwood doesn't seem to get the attention he deserves as a major American filmmaker. And he's one of the very few who's still able to produce quality work like this one even near the end of his career.

Buy it here

Special Features Nobody Runs Forever: The Making of The Mule Toby Keith "Don't Let the Old Man In" Music Video

"Night on Earth"/""Stranger Than Paradise" (Criterion)

Film Twitter has just about lost its mind over the news that Jim Jarmusch's "The Dead Don't Die" will open Cannes 2019. Almost as if they had insider information, Criterion released Blu-ray upgrades of two of his best films at practically the same time that announcement was being made. Of course, it's just a coincidence, just another example of how much this company feels like it's on top of what people are talking about in the world of film. (Speaking of that, go sign up for The Criterion Channel now. You won't regret it.) As for these upgrades, Jarmusch isn't exactly a director to use to show off your HD TV, but it's nice to have his films in the best possible quality nonetheless. If you haven't seen it, you really need to catch up with "Stranger," an early pioneer in DIY filmmaking that feels more influential with every generation of directors that sees it.

Buy it here

Special Features - "Night on Earth" High-definition digital restoration, supervised and approved by director Jim Jarmusch, with 2.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray Selected-scene commentary from 2007 featuring director of photography Frederick Elmes and location sound mixer Drew Kunin Q&A with Jarmusch from 2007, in which he responds to questions sent in by fans Belgian television interview with Jarmusch from 1992 PLUS: A booklet featuring essays by filmmakers, authors, and critics Thom Andersen, Paul Auster, Bernard Eisenschitz, Goffredo Fofi, and Peter von Bagh, and the lyrics to Tom Waits’s original songs from the film

Buy it here

Special Features - "Stranger Than Paradise" High-definition digital restoration, supervised and approved by director Jim Jarmusch, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray Audio commentary from 1996 featuring Jarmusch and actor Richard Edson Permanent Vacation (1980), Jarmusch’s seventy-five-minute, color feature debut, presented in a high-definition digital restoration supervised by the director Kino ’84: Jim Jarmusch, a 1984 German television program featuring interviews with cast and crew members from Stranger Than Paradise and Permanent Vacation Some Days in January 1984, a behind-the-scenes Super 8 film by Tom Jarmusch U.S. and Japanese trailers PLUS: A booklet featuring Jarmusch’s 1984 “Some Notes on Stranger Than Paradise,” critics Geoff Andrew and J. Hoberman on Stranger Than Paradise, and author and critic Luc Sante on Permanent Vacation

"On the Basis of Sex"

It feels like someone dropped the ball with this sturdy period piece about the life of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. It's the kind of movie that should have played TIFF and gotten some decent buzz on its way through awards season. (It's certainly better than a trio of biopics nominated for Best Picture that will remain unnamed.) But it didn't premiere until AFI and then was relatively quietly released in theaters without much fanfare. I have some issues with the bland first half of this movie that hits too many of the "then this happened" tropes of the biopic, but it gets interesting when it essentially becomes a courtroom drama in the second half, and Felicity Jones and Armie Hammer are solid throughout. It's a decent rental that feels like it would have been a major movie even just a few years ago or if it had been handled differently.

Buy it here

Special Features A Supreme Team: Making On the Basis of Sex – Pull back the curtain and see how this incredible team of collaborators brought this true story to the big screen. Legacy of Justice – A deeper look at how Ruth Bader Ginsburg pioneered gender equality in America and gained her seat on the Supreme Court. Martin and Ruth: A Loving Partnership – An intimate look at the symbiotic marriage between Martin and Ruth Ginsburg, and how it helped shape Ruth's perspective as a judge.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2Z5gBGh

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