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La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.
El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.
Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.
En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.
La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.
Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.
La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).
“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”
Friedensreich Hundertwasser
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus
The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.
This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.
To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.
In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.
Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.
In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.
According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.
La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.
El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.
Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.
En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.
La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.
Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.
La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).
“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”
Friedensreich Hundertwasser
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus
The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.
This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.
To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.
In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.
Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.
In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.
According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.
The two mayed GPS-equipped ravens are still patrolling the parking area at Yellowstone's Tower Junction where nearly everybody stops to use the restrooms or to dump their recycling. They are thriving on the combination of (illegal and ill-advised) food handouts from people and garbage picked from the bins. This was taken a week ago and the two of them were there again yesterday.
When I saw (but didn't manage to photograph) the two rapscallions together I realized this one, with its blue leg band, was the smaller, and therefore likely the female of the pair. The other one, whose colored leg band is yellow, I'm guessing is the male.
Both of them have been fitted with GPS recorders-transmitters and sport antennas sticking out of their backs. In this photo you can only see that her GPS rig looks a little different from his (visible in the adjacent photos). They seem oblivious to their high tech equipment, used by the team led by John Marzluff and Mattias Loretto to document regional movements of these high-powered, intelligent birds and to better elucidate their roles in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Starting in the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV show Wünsch dir was ("Make a wish"), in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated 30 November 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of 15 December 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.
To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.
El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.
Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.
En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.
La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.
Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.
La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).
“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”
Friedensreich Hundertwasser
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus
The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.
This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.
To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.
In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.
Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.
In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.
According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan_Rift_Valley
The Jordan Rift Valley (Arabic: الغور Al-Ghor or Al-Ghawr; Hebrew: בקעת הירדן Bik'at HaYarden) is an elongated depression located in modern-day Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian territories. This geographic region includes the Jordan River, Jordan Valley, Hula Valley, Lake Tiberias and the Dead Sea, the lowest land elevation on Earth. The valley continues to the Red Sea, incorporating Arabah and the shorelines of the Gulf of Aqaba.
Origins and physical features
The Jordan Rift Valley was formed many millions of years ago in the Miocene epoch (23.8 - 5.3 Myr ago) when the Arabian tectonic plate moved northward and then eastward away from Africa. One million years later, the land between the Mediterranean and the Jordan Rift Valley rose so that the sea water stopped flooding the area.
The lowest point in the Jordan Rift Valley is at the shores of the Dead Sea, which is also the lowest point (on land) on the surface of the earth at 400 meters below sea level. Rising sharply to almost 1,000 meters in the west, and similarly in the east, the rift is a significant topographic feature over which few narrow paved roads and difficult mountain tracks lead.[1] The valley north of the Dead Sea has long been a site of agriculture because of water available from the Jordan River and numerous springs located on the valley's flanks.
The Dead Sea Transform
The plate boundary which extends through the valley is variously called the Dead Sea Transform or Dead Sea Rift. The boundary separates the Arabian plate from the African plate, connecting the divergent plate boundary in the Red Sea (the Red Sea Rift) to the East Anatolian Fault in Turkey.[2]
The interpretation of the tectonic regime that led to the development of the Dead Sea Transform is highly contested. Some consider it as a transform fault that accommodates a 105 km northwards displacement of the Arabian plate,[3] and trace its structural evolution to the early Miocene. Others presume that the Rift is an incipient oceanic spreading center, the northern extension of the Red Sea Rift,[4] and the displacement along it is oblique, with approximately 10–15 km of extension in addition to the more substantial left lateral (sinistral) strike-slip. The evolution of the rift, according to this latter model, started in the late Miocene with the linear series of basins that propagated gradually along their axes to form the present rift valley.[5] The elucidation of the nature of the Dead Sea Transform/Rift is a matter of ongoing study and discussion.
Population
The Jordanian population of the valley is over 85,000 people,[6] most of whom are farmers, and 80% of the farms in the Jordanian part of the valley are family farms no larger than 30 dunams (3 ha, 7.4 ac).[7]
Some 47,000 Palestinians live in the part of the valley that lies in the West Bank in about twenty permanent communities, most of them reside in the city of Jericho. Thousands of Bedouins also live in temporary communities.[8]
About 11,000 Israelis live in 17 kibbutzim that form part of the Emek HaYarden Regional Council in Israel,[9] while an additional 7,500 live in twenty-six Israeli settlements and five Nahal encampments that have been established in the part of the Jordan Valley that lies in the West Bank.[8][10]
Prior to the 1967 Six-Day War, the valley's Jordanian side was home to about 60,000 people largely engaged in agriculture and pastoralism.[6] By 1971, the population had declined to 5,000 as a result of the war and the 1970-71 conflict between the Palestinian guerrillas and the Jordanian armed forces.[6] Investments by the Jordanian government in the region allowed the population to rebound to over 85,000 by 1979.[6]
Since the end of the 1967 war, every Israeli government has considered the western Jordan Valley to be the eastern border of Israel with Jordan.[8] The 1994 peace treaty between Israel and Jordan defines the international border between the countries on the Jordan river in the center of the Jordan valley.
Agriculture
The Jordan River rises from several sources, mainly the Anti-Lebanon Mountains in Syria. It flows down into the Sea of Galilee, 212 meters below sea level, and then drains into the Dead Sea.[11] South of the Dead Sea, the Jordan Valley turns into the hot, dry Arabah valley.[11]
The Jordan Valley is several degrees warmer than adjacent areas, and its year-round agricultural climate, fertile soils and water supply made it a site for agriculture dating to about 10,000 years ago. By about 3000 BCE, produce from the valley was being exported to neighboring regions.[11] The area's fertile lands were chronicled in the Hebrew Bible, where it was the site of several miracles for the people of Israel, such as the Jordan River stopping its flow to allow the Jewish people, led by the Ark of the Covenant, to pass over. The Jordan River is revered by Christians as the place where John the Baptist baptized Jesus Christ.[11]
In the last few decades, modern methods of farming have vastly expanded the agricultural output of the area.[11] The construction of the East Ghor Canal by Jordan in 1950s (now known as the King Abdullah Canal), which runs down the east bank of the Jordan Valley for 69 kilometers, has brought new areas under irrigation.[11] The introduction of portable greenhouses has brought about a sevenfold increase in productivity, allowing Jordan to export large amounts of fruit and vegetables year-round.
Spectacled Bear
Tremarctos ornatus
Each bear has unique facial markings, which helps researchers track individuals. This bear also has a radio collar to elucidate movements - the bears are shy and quite hard to find. Despite the large collar, the bear is healthy and was successfully foraging both times we saw this individual, early and late in the day.
Papallacta Pass
Ecuador
Application of Starnet++ v2.0 elucidated detail of emissions.
Equipment: Takahashi FSQ-130ED, F3 Reducer 0.6x, IDAS NB12 Dual Narrowband Filter, and EOS R-SP4II, modified by Seo San on ZWO AM5n Equatorial Mount, autoguided with Fujinon 1:2.8/75mm C-Mount Lens, Pentax x2 Extender, ZWO ASI 174MM-mini, and PHD2 Guiding
Exposure: 15 times x 600 seconds, 7 x 240 sec, and 7 x 60 seconds at ISO 6,400 and f/3.0, focal length 390mm
site: 2,560m above sea level at lat. 24 23 21 South and long. 70 12 01 West near the peak of Cerro Ventarrones Chile
Ambient temperature was 11 degrees Celsius or 52 degrees Fahrenheit. Wind was mild, and guide error RMS was 0.73". Sky was dark, and SQML was 21.77 at the night.
Although I've lived in Portland 5 years now, I'm ashamed to say, I can't identify this building(s?) That didn't stop me from manipulating them though...
La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.
El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.
Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.
En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.
La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.
Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.
La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).
“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”
Friedensreich Hundertwasser
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus
The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.
This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.
To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.
In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.
Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.
In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.
According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, we are south of the Thames in the London suburb of Battersea. It is Wednesday, and is Edith’s half day off. Usually she spends it with her best friend and fellow maid-of-all-work, Hilda, who lives just around the corner from Cavendish Mews in Hill Street, where she works for Lettice’s married friends, Margot and Dickie Channon. Edith and Hilda usually spend Wednesday afternoons together, pleasurably buying haberdashery, window shopping or taking tea. Yet today Frank Leadbetter, Edith’s beau, who works as the delivery boy for Mr. Willison’s Grocer’s in Binney Street Mayfair, has managed to get the Wednesday afternoon off, and has asked Edith to spend the time with him. He has arranged a special surprise for edith, and it is here in Clapham Junction where Frank has joined Edith after meeting her Clapham Junction Railway Station*. Frank lives not too far from busy Clapham Junction in a boarding house run by his grim landlady, Mrs. Chapman.
Unsure whether Frank has plans to take Edith to tea, or a picnic, Edith has dressed smartly as her beau has requested. The pair exit the red and white banded brick Victorian railway station with its cupola corner tower and step out into the bright summer sunshine. Before them the busy high street shopping precinct of Clapham lined with four storey red brick houses with awning covered shops beneath each one stretches in each direction from the junction. The noisy thoroughfare chocked with a mixture of chugging motor cars, lorries and the occasional double decker electrical tram fills their ears with noise and their noses and mouths with fumes from the belching traffic. Even a few horse drawn carts with placid plodding old work horses unperturbed by the belching of their mechanical usurpers join the melee of trundling traffic going in either direction. People bustle past them on the footpath, going about their Wednesday business cheerily, many off to the grand haberdashery of Arding and Hobbs** which towers above them as they stand on the corner of the junction.
Edith looks across the road to the grand terrace of imposing buildings constructed in the late Nineteeth Century. Their canvas awnings fluttering in the breeze help to advertise a haberdashers, jewellers, lamp shops, a chemist, a boot repairer, grocers, butchers, bakers and even a milliner’s shop. “This way.” Frank says, leading his sweetheart along the high street until they reach a photography studio.
Frank shares Mrs. Chapman’s boarding house with a number of young men, including John Simpkin, who is the assistant to Mr. Bristol who runs a photography studio in Clapham Junction. John has recently finished his apprenticeship to Mr, Bristol, and is now a photographer in his own right, and this thus allowed to run the studio on his own on some days, like today. It is here that we find Edith and Frank, sitting in the waiting area in the shop front of the studio.
Edith looks around her at the fusty studio, which is still decorated in the more formal and overstuffed Edwardian style that was fashionable before the war. The walls are papered with green hangings featuring bunches of flowers divided by garlands of ribbons. Framed portraits of imperious middle-class matrons, proud shopkeepers and their families hang around the walls in gold and silver frames: some oval, others square, many plain, but a few quite ornate. The room’s floor is dominated by a large glass fronted display cabinet on top of which stands a gleaming glass cash register. The white venetian blinds and heavy moss green curtains with their round bobbles help to muffle the constant sound of traffic from outside.
“Oh Frank!” Edith gushes as she and Frank sit on the plush and slightly old fashioned and overstuffed softa awaiting John, who is setting up the studio behind the shop front. “This is such a wonderful surprise! I haven’t had my photograph taken since I was young.”
“I know.” Frank replies with a beaming smile.
“How do you know, Frank?” Edith asks, giving him a quizzical look.
“Well,” Frank replies, the smile falling from his face as he puffs out his cheeks and thinks. “I remember there are two photographs of you as a young girl on your mother’s mantlepiece.” he continues as he remembers seeing them sitting in brass frames in Ada’s front parlour on the day not so long ago that he finally worked up the courage to ask Edith’s parents, George and Ada, for their daughter’s hand in marriage.
“I didn’t think I’d taken you into Mum’s front parlour.” Edith replies ponderously. “We usually spend time in the kitchen.”
“Well… I…” Frank flushes red as once again he puffs his cheeks out.
The truth is that up until that fateful Sunday when he found himself seated in one of George and Ada Watsford’s uncomfortable, high backed barley twist Victorian chairs, Frank had never been shown into Ada’s cluttered front parlour, full of all her collected Victorian bric-a-brac.
“I suppose I must have when I first brought you home and showed you around the house.” Edith muses.
“Yes, that’s right!” Frank breathes a sigh of relief. “You showed me that day. Don’t you remember?”
“No, but I suppose I must have.” Edith replies. “Fancy you remembering our photographs from that day.”
“Well, you are my best girl, Edith.” Frank adds. “I’m interested in everything about you, including your childhood.” He then adds, as if trying to convince Edith of the fact he’s never been in Ada’s parlour except that one fictional time, “Of course I’ve never sat in there before.”
“Oh no. It’s only ever the Vicar or old Widow Hounslow, our mean and penny pinching landlady who get the pleasure of sitting in there.” Edith replies sarcastically. “Not that’s you’d want to sit on those awful chairs in there anyway.”
“Uncomfortable, are they?” Frank fishes, using the question to cover his own tracks.
“Oh yes! Be grateful you’ve never been subjected to sitting on one. They are horrible Victorian chairs with hard horsehair seats and a stiff button back!” Edith says with a scornful look as she remembers them for herself. “Mum used to make me sit on them when I was little to make sure I kept a straight back when I sat down.”
Frank looks at the posture of his sweetheart next to him now, observing her rather stiff and straight back as she perches on the edge of the rather sagging Edwardian sofa they share. “I see it worked, Edith.”
“I suppose I should be grateful to Mum, making me walk around with a book on my head, and forcing me sit in those chairs so that I wouldn’t develop a hunch,” Edith reminisces. “But at the time, I hated it so much, and I still hate those chairs now. It’s awfully stuffy and formal in her parlour anyway. I much prefer sitting in the kitchen. It’s more comfortable in there, even if the chairs aren’t padded.”
“So does that mean our front parlour isn’t going to be like your mum’s then, Edith?”
“Our front parlour? If we’re lucky enough to get one, most certainly it’s not!” Edith scoffs. “I want it to look lovely, but for it to be comfortable, like Miss Lettice’s is.” She nods at Frank. “I’ve been spoiled, seeing Miss Lettice and how she dresses the drawing rooms of her clients.”
“I don’t think we’ll be able to afford anything so grand as what Miss Lettice and her friends have.” Frank tempers his sweetheart. “I’m only a grocer’s delivery boy after all.”
“And part time window dresser.” Edith adds proudly. “And you won’t always be a grocer’s delivery boy. Not that I want anything as grand as Miss Lettice’s anyway, no matter what job you have. No, I just want something nice like I see in my magazines sometimes: a cosy room with two comfortable armchairs and a table or two to put my sewing basket on, and maybe a cabinet to put our best wedding china in.”
“Well, we might be able to afford something like that.” Frank agrees.
“And we don’t even have to wallpaper a room now, you know, Frank.”
“Don’t we Edith?”
“Not now. Miss Lettice told me that wallpaper like that which she orders from Jeffrey and Company*** can be frightfully expensive, especially for people like us, so they also produce frieze panels.”
“And what are they when they’re at home, Edith?” Frank laughs.
“Just what they sound like, Frank!” Edith retorts. “We could paint a room a nice crisp white or mushroom or oatmeal, and then just add some pretty frieze panels of paper along the top of the wall, or the top and bottom too if we could afford it. They produce ever such pretty patterns that look so smart, and they have so many that you can easily find a frieze to match your sofa or armchairs.”
“Sounds like the decoration of our home when we get wed is all taken care of, Edith.” Frank smiles a little nervously and rubs his clammy hands together distractedly.
“Oh yes!” Edith enthuses, her eyes sparkling. “You just leave all that to me, Frank.”
Their conversation is interrupted by a gentle clearing of the throat, as Frank’s friend, John the photographer, walks in from the photography studio behind and into the shop front where Edith and Frank wait. “Frank, Miss Watsford,” he says, bowing slightly . “I’m ready for you now.” Drawing back the Art Nouveau patterned velvet curtain hanging across the door with a dramatic gesture he continues, “Right this way, if you please.”
Edith glances at Frank, her face a mixture of excitement, anticipation and nerves, her blue eyes glittering.
“Best do what the man says, Miss Watsford.” Frank says with a bolstering smile of his own, putting out his own hand in a gesture for Edith to follow the photographer’s instructions.
They rise from their seats on the sofa and Frank follows Edith as she steps behind the glass topped and fronted counter full of framed portraits and formal cartes de visite**** and through under John’s arm into the photography studio. As Frank follows her, his friend gives his right shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Frank glances anxiously at him, but John smiles encouragingly back at him, and gives him an almost imperceptible nod.
“Goodness!” Edith exclaims. “I’d forgotten how crowded a photographic studio can be, Mr. Simpkin!”
She looks around her at the small studio which obviously also serves as an office for John and his employer, Mr. Bristol. Two desks sit in one cramped corner of the room, their surfaces littered untidily with piles of paperwork and sample photographs, whilst a large set of drawers running along a wall serves as a space to put together photograph albums and insert photos into frames as it too is littered with any number of portraits as well as a red and a blue leather photograph album and a box of miscellaneous frames in silver gold and bronze metal, some simple and others ornate.
“Spoken like a truly ordered person, Miss Watsford.” John laughs good naturedly.
“Oh!” Edith puts her lace gloved hand to her mouth. “I do hope I didn’t come across as disapproving, Mr. Simpkin. If I did, I certainly didn’t mean to.”
“Not at all, Miss Watsford. Mr. Bristol and I, like most photographers are naturally untidy, but only being the small studio we are, unlike Mr. Bassano’s***** studios, it is a little difficult to hide the mess from our clients. You aren’t the first to remark upon the general disorganisation in here, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
“This is your workplace, and I don’t wish to criticize how you choose to work.” Edith assures him. “Especially when you are doing us this great favour, taking our portraits, Mr. Simpkin.”
He beams a smile at her. “Oh I assure you, Miss Watsford, Frank is paying for your pleasure today.”
“Are these all photographs you have taken?” Edith asks, looking to the wall to her left where the old fashioned green Edwardian wallpaper decorated with garlands and flowers, the same as in the front of the studio premises, is covered with a mixture of framed and unframed photographs.
“Me and Mr. Bristol.” John clarifies. “Most of these are Mr. Bristol’s work. I’ve only recently become a full time photographer, but I did take that one with my trusty old Box Brownie******.” He indicates with pride to a photograph of four young women, taken not long ago judging by their modish cloche hats******* and knee length pleated skirts, each kicking up a leg in cheeky, joy filled playfulness. He then worries that he has drawn attention to the wrong kind of photograph for the pretty sweetheart of his friend and clears his throat awkwardly before adding, “Of course the more formal studio portraits were taken by Mr. Bristol and I, as well.”
Edith smiles as she looks at portraits of men and women of all ages, children, wedding photographs including several which must have been taken during wartime where the grooms are in uniform, and group portraits of people.
“How very skilled you and Mr. Bristol are, Mr. Simpkin.” Edith turns back to John and smiles. “How lucky I am that Frank knows you and your work well enough to have my portrait taken by you.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure, Miss Watsford.” John replies, blushing at the compliment paid him by Edith as he does.
John pushes a box of toys aside slightly with his foot and clears a space on the chest of drawers beneath the wall of photographs.
“Toys?” Edith queries.
“Err… for the little ones.” John elucidates. “They make good props, and are a valuable source of ways to distract children, or get them to smile.”
“Oh of course!” Edith laughs. “How silly of me not to realise.”
“Not at all, Miss Watsford.” John replies. “Now, if you’d care to remove your hat and gloves and put them here.” He pats on top of a pile of ornately patterned photograph boxes. “There’s a mirror just there if you’d like to check your hair and makeup.” He points to a small, gilded mirror hanging on the wall surrounded by photographs. “And if you’d care to just hang your coat over my desk chair.” He looks at Frank. “Frank, you can put your cap and hat there too if you like.”
As John busies himself, removing a salon chair and a glossy parlour palm in a large blue majolica******** jardinière from in front of a long, blue background sheet strung from a brass railing suspended from the ceiling by chains, Edith and Frank both stand before the mirror, vying for space to make sure that the look presentable.
“I was wondering why you specifically wanted me to wear my blouse with the Peter Pan collar*********.” Edith murmurs to her beau as she tugs at her hair, carefully arranging her honey blonde curls that has come loose from her chignon behind her ears.
“And now you know.” Frank replies, adjusting his tie. “It will stand out more in a photograph of the two of us. I like the rose you’ve chosen to wear too.” He nods approvingly towards the rich red fabric rose pinned at the base of her collar reflected in the glass.
“It’s from Mrs. Minkin’s.” Edith says proudly, referring to the haberdashery in Whitechapel that she shops at, thanks to the recommendation from Lettice’s charwoman**********, Mrs. Boothby. “I’ve been itching to wear it ever since I bought it, and I thought with the weather so beautifully summery, and with the surprise for today, perhaps being a picnic on Clapham Common*********** or tea in a nice tea rooms, I thought it might be nice to wear it.”
Frank gulps. “Yes… ahem!” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, I hope… I hope you will like your surprise.”
Edith turns around and faces her beau. “Whatever is the matter with you, Frank?” she asks, smiling happily, yet with a quizzical undertone as she lowers her lids and helps to straighten the collar of his jacket. “Of course I love my surprise! How could I not?” She laughs. “It isn’t every day I get to have my photograph taken, unlike Miss Lettice, for whom it is common being photographed for all the social columns, being a Bright Young Thing************ and all.”
Unnoticed by Edith as she fusses with Frank’s collar and tie, Frank glances over anxiously at his friend, who smiles silently and nods reassuringly again, giving him an encouraging wink.
“There!” Edith sighs with satisfaction as she finishes adjusting his lapels, steps back and admires her beau. “Very smart and handsome! You scrub up rather well, if I may be so bold as to say, Frank Leadbetter.”
“Only if I may be so bold as to say how fetching you look, Edith Watsford.” Frank replies.
“Oh Frank!” Edith gushes, blushing as she does so.
“Ahem!” John clears his throat. “Right this way you two, if you’d be so kind.” He indicates to the now clear space on a worn old Victorian Persian rug on the floor. I thought I might pose you two standing to begin with, and take a nice three quarter length photograph.”
“Of course, Mr. Simpkin.” Edith replies, stepping away from Frank and walking across the wooden floor of the studio, smoothing down her skirt as she does.
As Frank walks past John, John slips something discreetly into his right hand, to which Frank gives him a thankful look.
John stands in front of the camera, set atop a tall black painted metal tripod and peers down, looking at the upside down image of Edith and Frank through the viewfinder. “Now, Miss Watsford,” he directs. “I might have you stand a little to Frank’s right. And Frank, I might get you to stand in a bit closer, almost looking over Miss Watsford’s shoulder.” He gesticulates as the pair adjust themselves. “Good! Good! That’s right.” he says encouragingly. “And since this is a portrait of a young couple, Frank, why don’t you hold Miss Watsford’s hand.”
“Alright.” Frank says, licking his lips and breathing heavily.
“Frank!” Edith exclaims. “Are you quite sure you’re alright?” She glances across at Frank in concern.
“Me?” Yes!” he stammers. “Why?”
“You’re trembling, Frank.”
“Well… you see… I…” Frank begins. Then he moves his right arm from behind Edith’s back, and grasping her left hand more emotionally, looks at Edith.
“Frank?”
“Edith Watsford, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” Frank blurts out as quickly as he can before he loses his nerve. Without waiting for a response, he slips a silver ring, the object John had discreetly pressed into his sweaty palm as Frank passed him, onto Edith’s ring finger.
“Oh Frank!” Edith gasps in surprise, glancing down at the slender, plain band of shining silver. “Frank!”
“Will you, Edith?” He looks Edith squarely in the face, his own expression a mixture of fear and nerves, anticipation and excitement.
“Frank!” Edith looks her beau in the face too, her eyes shimmering with as of yet unshed tears.
“Please say you will, Edith! Please! I’ve had our names and 1925 engraved on the inside of the band.”
Edith shakes her head in disbelief, a broad smile cracking across her face as she does. “Oh Frank, yes!”
“You will?” Frank asks, almost in disbelief.
“Well of course I will Frank!” Edith laughs. “Who else on God’s green earth would I want to marry more than you! Yes! Yes! Of course, yes!”
“Oh hoorah!” Frank puts his arms around Edith’s waist, as instinctively she throws her arms around his neck. “Thank you Edith!” He picks her up and spins her around three times. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“So that’s why you’ve been on pins and needles all day, Frank!” Edith laughs.
“Has it been that obvious, Edith?”
Edith nods, but smiles in delight, tears of joys pilling from her eyes as she does.
“I hope you like your surprise, Edith.” Frank murmurs.
“Oh Frank!” Edith replies, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a dainty lace handkerchief. “Of course I do! It’s the best surprise I’ve ever had.” She laughs: a mixture of nerves and relief as she realises that what she has been wishing and longing for, for so long, is now official, and a significant step closer to becoming a reality. “You know, Hilda said to me just this morning when we caught the train together from Down Street************* that today you might take me shopping for a wedding ring! And here you are, already organised with an engagement ring for me!”
“I bought it from a jewellers in Lavender Hill**************. I’m only sorry it’s not gold like those ones we saw in Schwar’s*************** up the Elephant****************, and only silver.”
“Oh, I don’t mind a bit, Frank! It’s beautiful!”
“I promise that you wedding ring will be gold, Edith. And like I said before, I had this ring engraved with our names and 1925, just to make it a bit more special.”
“Oh Frank!” Edith kisses her fiancée. “I shall treasure it always! Even if I can’t wear it whilst I’m working at Miss Lettice’s, I’ll hang it from a chain about my neck to stop it spoiling with all the hard graft I have to do, and I’ll wear it proudly on our days off together. That way I will always have the ring with me, and it will stay nice and shiny and beautiful!”
Standing behind his camera on its tripod, John smiles happily for his friend. “Congratulations, Frank. I wish you every happiness, Miss Watsford*****************.”
“The future Mrs. Leadbetter!” Frank exclaims in jubilation, spinning Edith again, making her squeal in delight.
As Frank stops spinning his newly minted fiancée, the pair pause and stand together. Frank drapes his right arm in a relieved fashion around Edith, allowing his hand to rest upon her waist as he pulls her closer. The pair put their heads together and look down as Frank holds up Edith’s left hand, smiling as if they were looking at a miracle rather than a simple band of silver. As they do, John depresses the shutter of the camera and captures the perfect photograph to commemorate the engagement of Edith Watsford and Frank Leadbetter.
*Clapham Junction is a major railway station near St John's Hill in south-west Battersea in the London Borough of Wandsworth. Despite its name, Clapham Junction is not in Clapham, a district one mile to the south-east. A major transport hub, Clapham Junction station is on both the South West Main Line and Brighton Main Line, as well as numerous other routes and branch lines which pass through or diverge from the main lines at this station. It serves as a southern terminus of both the Mildmay and Windrush lines of the London Overground.
**Arding and Hobbs was established in 1876. A second store was established on the corner of Falcon Road, Battersea, known as the Falcon Road Drapery Store, but this was sold to former employees Mr. Hunt & Mr. Cole in 1894. The original building was destroyed by a fire on 20 December 1909. The present building at the junction of Lavender Hill and St John's Road in Battersea was constructed in 1910 in an Edwardian Baroque style, and the architect was James Gibson. The department store was sold to the John Anstiss Group in 1938, however, John Anstiss was purchased by United Drapery Stores in 1948. The store was added to the Allders group in the 1970s and continued to operate until Allders went into administration in 2005. The building was subsequently broken up and sold, with the building split between a branch of Debenhams department store and TK Maxx retail.
***Jeffrey and Company was an English producer of fine wallpapers that operated between 1836 and the mid 1930s. Based at 64 Essex Road in London, the firm worked with a variety of designers who were active in the aesthetic and arts and crafts movements, such as E.W. Godwin, William Morris, and Walter Crane. Jeffrey and Company’s success is often credited to Metford Warner, who became the company’s chief proprietor in 1871. Under his direction the firm became one of the most lucrative and influential wallpaper manufacturers in Europe. The company clarified that wallpaper should not be reserved for use solely in mansions, but should be available for rooms in the homes of the emerging upper-middle class.
****The carte de visite (which translates from the French as 'visiting card') was a format of small photograph which was patented in Paris by photographer André Adolphe Eugène Disdéri in 1854, although first used by Louis Dodero in 1851.
*****Alexander Bassano was an English photographer who was a leading royal and high society portrait photographer in Victorian London. He is known for his photo of the Earl Kitchener in the Lord Kitchener Wants You army recruitment poster during the First World War and his photographs of Queen Victoria. He opened his first studio in 1850 in Regent Street. The studio then moved to Piccadilly between 1859 and 1863, to Pall Mall and then to 25 Old Bond Street in 1877 where it remained until 1921 when it moved to Dover Street. There was also a Bassano branch studio at 132 King's Road, Brighton from 1893 to 1899.
******The Brownie (or Box Brownie) was invented by Frank A. Brownell for the Eastman Kodak Company. Named after the Brownie characters popularised by the Canadian writer Palmer Cox, the camera was initially aimed at children. More than 150,000 Brownie cameras were shipped in the first year of production, and cost a mere five shillings in the United Kingdom. An improved model, called No. 2 Brownie, came in 1901, which produced larger photos, and was also a huge success. Initially marketed to children, with Kodak using them to popularise photography, it achieved broader appeal as people realised that, although very simple in design and operation, the Brownie could produce very good results under the right conditions. One of their most famous users at the time was the then Princess of Wales, later Queen Alexandra, who was an avid amateur photographer and helped to make the Box Brownie even more popular with the British public from all walks of life. As they were ubiquitous, many iconic shots were taken on Brownies. Jesuit priest Father Frank Browne sailed aboard the RMS Titanic between Southampton and Queenstown, taking many photographs of the ship’s interiors, passengers and crew with his Box Brownie. On the 15th of April 1912, Bernice Palmer used a Kodak Brownie 2A, Model A to photograph the iceberg that sank RMS Titanic as well as survivors hauled aboard RMS Carpathia, the ship on which Palmer was travelling. They were also taken to war by soldiers but by World War I the more compact Vest Pocket Kodak Camera as well as Kodak's Autographic Camera were the most frequently used. Another group of people that became posthumously known for their huge photo archive is the Nicholas II of Russia family, especially its four daughters who all used Box Brownie cameras.
*******The cloche hat or simply cloche is a fitted, bell-shaped hat for women that was invented in 1908 by milliner Caroline Reboux. They were especially popular from about 1922 to 1933. Its name is derived from cloche, the French word for "bell". The popularity and influence of cloche hats was at its peak during the early twentieth century. Couture houses like Lanvin and Molyneux opened ateliers to join milliners in manufacturing hats that precisely matched their clothing designs. The hats even shaped hairstyles: the Eton crop – the short, slicked-down cut worn by Josephine Baker – became popular because it was ideal to showcase the hats' shape.
********Majolica refers to tin-glazed earthenware decorated with vibrant colors on a white background, a style particularly known from Italian Renaissance pottery. It's also spelled maiolica, and the technique involves applying a tin-based glaze followed by colorful overglaze decoration. It became very popular again in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries when it was used to decorate large ornamental pieces like umbrella stands and jardinières.
*********A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.
**********A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
***********At over eighty-five hectares in size, Clapham Common is one of London’s largest, and oldest, public open spaces, situated between Clapham, Battersea and Balham. Clapham Common is mentioned as far back as 1086 in the famous Domesday Book, and was originally ‘common land’ for the Manors of Battersea and Clapham. Tenants of the Lords of the Manors, could graze their livestock, collect firewood or dig for clay and other minerals found on site. However, as a result of increasing threats from encroaching roads and housing developments, it was acquired in 1877 by the Metropolitan Board of Works, and designated a “Metropolitan Common”, which gives it protection from loss to development and preserves its open character.
************The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.
*************Down Street, is a disused station on the London Underground, located in Mayfair. The Great Northern, Piccadilly and Brompton Railway opened it in 1907. It was latterly served by the Piccadilly line and was situated between Dover Street (now named Green Park) and Hyde Park Corner stations. The station was little used; many trains passed through without stopping. Lack of patronage and proximity to other stations led to its closure in 1932. During the Second World War it was used as a bunker by the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, and the war cabinet. The station building survives and is close to Down Street's junction with Piccadilly.
**************Lavender Hill is a bustling high street serving residents of Clapham Junction, Battersea and beyond. Until the mid Nineteenth Century, Battersea was predominantly a rural area with lavender and asparagus crops cultivated in local market gardens. Hence, it’s widely thought that Lavender Hill was named after Lavender Hall, built in the late Eighteenth Century, where lavender grew on the north side of the hill.
***************Established in 1838 by Andreas Schwar who was a clock and watch maker from Baden in Germany, Schwar and Company on Walworth Road in Elephant and Castle was a watchmaker and jewellers that is still a stalwart of the area today. The shop still retains its original Victorian shopfront with its rounded plate glass windows.
****************The London suburb of Elephant and Castle, south of the Thames, past Lambeth was known as "the Piccadilly Circus of South London" because it was such a busy shopping precinct. When you went shopping there, it was commonly referred to by Londoners, but South Londoners in particular, as “going up the Elephant”.
*****************In more socially conscious times it was traditional to wish the bride-to-be happiness, rather than saying congratulations as we do today. Saying congratulations to a bride in past times would have implied that she had won something – her groom. The groom on the other hand was to be congratulated for getting the lady to accept his marriage proposal.
This cluttered photography studio, filled with all the paraphernalia for portrait taking, may look real to you, but it is not all it seems. It is in fact, made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The gleaming black camera on its tripod with its bulbous depressor to take photographs comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The dainty salon chair with its floral embroidered seat and back is part of a Marie Antionette suite with pretty floral upholstery which has been made by the high-end miniatures manufacturer, Creal.
The palm in its blue majolica jardinière on its stand also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop, as does the screen to the left hand rear of the photograph, and the detailed Persian rug on the floor.
The photos seen on the desk in the foreground and plastering the wall in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper. Most are made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The only exceptions are the round ones in black or gold frames, which come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop. The patterned boxes stacked on the chest of drawers in the background and the notes pinned to the walls also come from Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures. The boxes are filled with more photographs, correspondence and bills in 1:12 scale! The frames you can see around the room are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each.
The box of toys in the mid ground contains a hand painted clown who spins on a metal string between two pillars. He comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. In this case, Warwick Miniatures also painted it with precision detail. The teddy bear and the hobby horse both come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop.
The green baize covered card table is an artisan miniature, and also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop.
The two photograph albums in the foreground, one blue and the other red come from Shepherd’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The wallpaper is late Victorian in design and was sourced and printed by me.
This photo and chapter are dedicated to my Flickr friend, Mrs. Cynthia D. Worley Pogue www.flickr.com/photos/38319563@N07/ who sadly passed away on September the 18th. She loved these chapters each week, and never failed to follow what Edith or Lettice were up to. I am only sorry she did not live long enough to witness this happy occasion as Edith finally gets her wish as she becomes engaged to Frank. She will be sorely missed!
Well, little lady, let me elucidate here
Everybody wants to be a cat
Because a cat's the only cat
Who knows where it's at
Everybody wants to be a cat
Because a cats the only cat
who knows where it's at
While playin' jazz
you always have a welcome mat
'Cause everybody digs a swinging cat
Oh boy fellas, lets rock this joint!
Ha ha groovy cats! Ha-haha!
Vienna HDR-2011
The Hundertwasser-Haus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-author. This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public manifestos and controversial essays (e.g. 1958 a ‘Mouldiness Manifesto.’ advocating natural forms of decay) In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house"[1]
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. In a letter dated November 30, 1977 to the mayor of Vienna, Leopold Gratz, the federal chancellor at the time, Bruno Kreisky, suggested that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.[2] The search for a suitable building plot took several years. Because Hundertwasser was not an architect he asked the City of Vienna to provide a professional architect willing to transpose his concepts into architectural drawings. To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
In the Platonic, Neopythagorean, Middle Platonic, and Neoplatonic schools of philosophy, the demiurge (/ˈdɛmi.ɜːrdʒ/) is an artisan-like figure responsible for fashioning and maintaining the physical universe. The Gnostics adopted the term demiurge. Although a fashioner, the demiurge is not necessarily the same as the creator figure in the monotheistic sense, because the demiurge itself and the material from which the demiurge fashions the universe are both considered consequences of something else. Depending on the system, they may be considered either uncreated and eternal or the product of some other entity.
The word demiurge is an English word derived from demiurgus, a Latinised form of the Greek δημιουργός or dēmiurgós. It was originally a common noun meaning "craftsman" or "artisan", but gradually came to mean "producer", and eventually "creator". The philosophical usage and the proper noun derive from Plato's Timaeus, written c. 360 BC, where the demiurge is presented as the creator of the universe. The demiurge is also described as a creator in the Platonic (c. 310–90 BC) and Middle Platonic (c. 90 BC – AD 300) philosophical traditions. In the various branches of the Neoplatonic school (third century onwards), the demiurge is the fashioner of the real, perceptible world after the model of the Ideas, but (in most Neoplatonic systems) is still not itself "the One". In the arch-dualist ideology of the various Gnostic systems, the material universe is evil, while the non-material world is good. According to some strains of Gnosticism, the demiurge is malevolent, as it is linked to the material world. In others, including the teaching of Valentinus, the demiurge is simply ignorant or misguided.
Contents
1Platonism and neoplatonism
1.1Plato and the Timaeus
1.2Middle Platonism
1.3Neoplatonism
1.3.1Henology
1.3.2Iamblichus
2Gnosticism
2.1Mythos
2.2Angels
2.3Yaldabaoth
2.3.1Names
2.4Marcion
2.5Valentinus
2.6The devil
2.7Cathars
3Neoplatonism and Gnosticism
3.1Plotinus
4See also
5References
5.1Notes
5.2Sources
6External links
Platonism and neoplatonism[edit]
Plato and the Timaeus[edit]
Plato, as the speaker Timaeus, refers to the Demiurge frequently in the Socratic dialogue Timaeus (28a ff.), c. 360 BC. The main character refers to the Demiurge as the entity who "fashioned and shaped" the material world. Timaeus describes the Demiurge as unreservedly benevolent, and so it desires a world as good as possible. Plato's work Timaeus is a philosophical reconciliation of Hesiod's cosmology in his Theogony, syncretically reconciling Hesiod to Homer.[1][2][3]
Middle Platonism[edit]
In Numenius's Neo-Pythagorean and Middle Platonist cosmogony, the Demiurge is second God as the nous or thought of intelligibles and sensibles.[4]
Neoplatonism[edit]
Plotinus and the later Platonists worked to clarify the Demiurge. To Plotinus, the second emanation represents an uncreated second cause (see Pythagoras' Dyad). Plotinus sought to reconcile Aristotle's energeia with Plato's Demiurge,[5] which, as Demiurge and mind (nous), is a critical component in the ontological construct of human consciousness used to explain and clarify substance theory within Platonic realism (also called idealism). In order to reconcile Aristotelian with Platonian philosophy,[5] Plotinus metaphorically identified the demiurge (or nous) within the pantheon of the Greek Gods as Zeus.[6]
Henology[edit]
The first and highest aspect of God is described by Plato as the One (Τὸ Ἕν, 'To Hen'), the source, or the Monad.[7] This is the God above the Demiurge, and manifests through the actions of the Demiurge. The Monad emanated the demiurge or Nous (consciousness) from its "indeterminate" vitality due to the monad being so abundant that it overflowed back onto itself, causing self-reflection.[8] This self-reflection of the indeterminate vitality was referred to by Plotinus as the "Demiurge" or creator. The second principle is organization in its reflection of the nonsentient force or dynamis, also called the one or the Monad. The dyad is energeia emanated by the one that is then the work, process or activity called nous, Demiurge, mind, consciousness that organizes the indeterminate vitality into the experience called the material world, universe, cosmos. Plotinus also elucidates the equation of matter with nothing or non-being in The Enneads[9] which more correctly is to express the concept of idealism or that there is not anything or anywhere outside of the "mind" or nous (c.f. pantheism).
Plotinus' form of Platonic idealism is to treat the Demiurge, nous as the contemplative faculty (ergon) within man which orders the force (dynamis) into conscious reality.[10] In this, he claimed to reveal Plato's true meaning: a doctrine he learned from Platonic tradition that did not appear outside the academy or in Plato's text. This tradition of creator God as nous (the manifestation of consciousness), can be validated in the works of pre-Plotinus philosophers such as Numenius, as well as a connection between Hebrew and Platonic cosmology (see also Philo).[11]
The Demiurge of Neoplatonism is the Nous (mind of God), and is one of the three ordering principles:
Arche (Gr. 'beginning') – the source of all things,
Logos (Gr. 'reason/cause') – the underlying order that is hidden beneath appearances,
Harmonia (Gr. 'harmony') – numerical ratios in mathematics.
Before Numenius of Apamea and Plotinus' Enneads, no Platonic works ontologically clarified the Demiurge from the allegory in Plato's Timaeus. The idea of Demiurge was, however, addressed before Plotinus in the works of Christian writer Justin Martyr who built his understanding of the Demiurge on the works of Numenius.[citation needed]
Iamblichus[edit]
See also: Panentheism
Later, the Neoplatonist Iamblichus changed the role of the "One", effectively altering the role of the Demiurge as second cause or dyad, which was one of the reasons that Iamblichus and his teacher Porphyry came into conflict.
The figure of the Demiurge emerges in the theoretic of Iamblichus, which conjoins the transcendent, incommunicable “One,” or Source. Here, at the summit of this system, the Source and Demiurge (material realm) coexist via the process of henosis.[12] Iamblichus describes the One as a monad whose first principle or emanation is intellect (nous), while among "the many" that follow it there is a second, super-existent "One" that is the producer of intellect or soul (psyche).
The "One" is further separated into spheres of intelligence; the first and superior sphere is objects of thought, while the latter sphere is the domain of thought. Thus, a triad is formed of the intelligible nous, the intellective nous, and the psyche in order to reconcile further the various Hellenistic philosophical schools of Aristotle's actus and potentia (actuality and potentiality) of the unmoved mover and Plato's Demiurge.
Then within this intellectual triad Iamblichus assigns the third rank to the Demiurge, identifying it with the perfect or Divine nous with the intellectual triad being promoted to a hebdomad (pure intellect).
In the theoretic of Plotinus, nous produces nature through intellectual mediation, thus the intellectualizing gods are followed by a triad of psychic gods.
Gnosticism[edit]
It has been suggested that this section be split out into another article titled Yaldabaoth. (Discuss) (November 2018)
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Gnosticism presents a distinction between the highest, unknowable God or Supreme Being and the demiurgic "creator" of the material. Several systems of Gnostic thought present the Demiurge as antagonistic to the will of the Supreme Being: his act of creation occurs in an unconscious semblance of the divine model, and thus is fundamentally flawed, or else is formed with the malevolent intention of entrapping aspects of the divine in materiality. Thus, in such systems, the Demiurge acts as a solution to (or, at least possibly, the problem or cause that gives rise to)[citation needed] the problem of evil.
Mythos[edit]
One Gnostic mythos describes the declination of aspects of the divine into human form. Sophia (Greek: Σοφία, lit. 'wisdom'), the Demiurge's mother and partial aspect of the divine Pleroma or "Fullness," desired to create something apart from the divine totality, without the receipt of divine assent. In this act of separate creation, she gave birth to the monstrous Demiurge and, being ashamed of her deed, wrapped him in a cloud and created a throne for him within it. The Demiurge, isolated, did not behold his mother, nor anyone else, and concluded that only he existed, ignorant of the superior levels of reality.
The Demiurge, having received a portion of power from his mother, sets about a work of creation in unconscious imitation of the superior Pleromatic realm: He frames the seven heavens, as well as all material and animal things, according to forms furnished by his mother; working, however, blindly and ignorant even of the existence of the mother who is the source of all his energy. He is blind to all that is spiritual, but he is king over the other two provinces. The word dēmiurgos properly describes his relation to the material; he is the father of that which is animal like himself.[13]
Thus Sophia's power becomes enclosed within the material forms of humanity, themselves entrapped within the material universe: the goal of Gnostic movements was typically the awakening of this spark, which permitted a return by the subject to the superior, non-material realities which were its primal source.
Angels[edit]
Psalm 82 begins (verse 1), "God stands in the assembly of El [LXX: assembly of gods], in the midst of the gods he renders judgment", indicating a plurality of gods, although it does not indicate that these gods were co-actors in creation. Philo had inferred from the expression "Let us make man" of the Book of Genesis that God had used other beings as assistants in the creation of man, and he explains in this way why man is capable of vice as well as virtue, ascribing the origin of the latter to God, of the former to his helpers in the work of creation.[14]
The earliest Gnostic sects ascribe the work of creation to angels, some of them using the same passage in Genesis.[15] So Irenaeus tells[16] of the system of Simon Magus,[17] of the system of Menander,[18] of the system of Saturninus, in which the number of these angels is reckoned as seven, and[19] of the system of Carpocrates. In the report of the system of Basilides,[20] we are told that our world was made by the angels who occupy the lowest heaven; but special mention is made of their chief, who is said to have been the God of the Jews, to have led that people out of the land of Egypt, and to have given them their law. The prophecies are ascribed not to the chief but to the other world-making angels.
The Latin translation, confirmed by Hippolytus of Rome,[21] makes Irenaeus state that according to Cerinthus (who shows Ebionite influence), creation was made by a power quite separate from the Supreme God and ignorant of him. Theodoret,[22] who here copies Irenaeus, turns this into the plural number "powers", and so Epiphanius of Salamis[23] represents Cerinthus as agreeing with Carpocrates in the doctrine that the world was made by angels.
Yaldabaoth[edit]
A lion-faced deity found on a Gnostic gem in Bernard de Montfaucon's L'antiquité expliquée et représentée en figures may be a depiction of the Demiurge.
In the Ophite and Sethian systems, which have many affinities with the teachings of Valentinus, the making of the world is ascribed to a company of seven archons, whose names are given, but still more prominent is their chief, "Yaldabaoth" (also known as "Yaltabaoth" or "Ialdabaoth").
In the Apocryphon of John c. AD 120–180, the demiurge arrogantly declares that he has made the world by himself:
Now the archon ["ruler"] who is weak has three names. The first name is Yaltabaoth, the second is Saklas ["fool"], and the third is Samael. And he is impious in his arrogance which is in him. For he said, 'I am God and there is no other God beside me,' for he is ignorant of his strength, the place from which he had come.[24]
He is Demiurge and maker of man, but as a ray of light from above enters the body of man and gives him a soul, Yaldabaoth is filled with envy; he tries to limit man's knowledge by forbidding him the fruit of knowledge in paradise. At the consummation of all things, all light will return to the Pleroma. But Yaldabaoth, the Demiurge, with the material world, will be cast into the lower depths.[25]
Yaldabaoth is frequently called "the Lion-faced", leontoeides, and is said to have the body of a serpent. The demiurge is also[26] described as having a fiery nature, applying the words of Moses to him: "the Lord our God is a burning and consuming fire". Hippolytus claims that Simon used a similar description.[27]
In Pistis Sophia, Yaldabaoth has already sunk from his high estate and resides in Chaos, where, with his forty-nine demons, he tortures wicked souls in boiling rivers of pitch, and with other punishments (pp. 257, 382). He is an archon with the face of a lion, half flame, and half darkness.
Under the name of Nebro (rebel), Yaldabaoth is called an angel in the apocryphal Gospel of Judas. He is first mentioned in "The Cosmos, Chaos, and the Underworld" as one of the twelve angels to come "into being [to] rule over chaos and the [underworld]". He comes from heaven, and it is said his "face flashed with fire and [his] appearance was defiled with blood". Nebro creates six angels in addition to the angel Saklas to be his assistants. These six, in turn, create another twelve angels "with each one receiving a portion in the heavens".
Names[edit]
Drawing of the lion-headed figure found at the Mithraeum of C. Valerius Heracles and sons, dedicated 190 CE at Ostia Antica, Italy (CIMRM 312).
The most probable derivation of the name "Yaldabaoth" was that given by Johann Karl Ludwig Gieseler. Gieseler believed the name was derived from the Aramaic yaldā bahuth, ילדאבהות, meaning "Son of Chaos". However, Gilles Quispel notes:
Gershom Scholem, the third genius in this field, more specifically the genius of precision, has taught us that some of us were wrong when they believed that Jaldabaoth means "son of chaos", because the Aramaic word bahutha in the sense of chaos only existed in the imagination of the author of a well-known dictionary. This is a pity because this name would suit the demiurge risen from chaos to a nicety. And perhaps the author of the Untitled Document did not know Aramaic and also supposed as we did once, that baoth had something to do with tohuwabohu, one of the few Hebrew words that everybody knows. ... It would seem then that the Orphic view of the demiurge was integrated into Jewish Gnosticism even before the redaction of the myth contained in the original Apocryphon of John. ... Phanes is represented with the mask of a lion's head on his breast, while from his sides the heads of a ram and a buck are budding forth: his body is encircled by a snake. This type was accepted by the Mithras mysteries, to indicate Aion, the new year, and Mithras, whose numerical value is 365. Sometimes he is also identified with Jao Adonai, the creator of the Hebrews. His hieratic attitude indicates Egyptian origin. The same is true of the monstrous figure with the head of a lion, which symbolises Time, Chronos, in Mithraism; Alexandrian origin of this type is probable.[28]
"Samael" literally means "Blind God" or "God of the Blind" in Hebrew (סמאל). This being is considered not only blind, or ignorant of its own origins, but may, in addition, be evil; its name is also found in Judaism as the Angel of Death and in Christian demonology. This link to Judeo-Christian tradition leads to a further comparison with Satan. Another alternative title for the demiurge is "Saklas", Aramaic for "fool".
The angelic name "Ariel" (Hebrew: 'the lion of God')[29] has also been used to refer to the Demiurge and is called his "perfect" name;[30] in some Gnostic lore, Ariel has been called an ancient or original name for Ialdabaoth.[31] The name has also been inscribed on amulets as "Ariel Ialdabaoth",[32][33] and the figure of the archon inscribed with "Aariel".[34]
Marcion[edit]
According to Marcion, the title God was given to the Demiurge, who was to be sharply distinguished from the higher Good God. The former was díkaios, severely just, the latter agathós, or loving-kind; the former was the "god of this world" (2 Corinthians 4:4), the God of the Old Testament, the latter the true God of the New Testament. Christ, in reality, is the Son of the Good God. The true believer in Christ entered into God's kingdom, the unbeliever remained forever the slave of the Demiurge.[25]
Valentinus[edit]
It is in the system of Valentinus that the name Dēmiurgos is used, which occurs nowhere in Irenaeus except in connection with the Valentinian system; we may reasonably conclude that it was Valentinus who adopted from Platonism the use of this word. When it is employed by other Gnostics either it is not used in a technical sense, or its use has been borrowed from Valentinus. But it is only the name that can be said to be specially Valentinian; the personage intended by it corresponds more or less closely with the Yaldabaoth of the Ophites, the great Archon of Basilides, the Elohim of Justinus, etc.
The Valentinian theory elaborates that from Achamoth (he kátō sophía or lower wisdom) three kinds of substance take their origin, the spiritual (pneumatikoí), the animal (psychikoí) and the material (hylikoí). The Demiurge belongs to the second kind, as he was the offspring of a union of Achamoth with matter.[25][35] And as Achamoth herself was only the daughter of Sophía the last of the thirty Aeons, the Demiurge was distant by many emanations from the Propatôr, or Supreme God.[25]
In creating this world out of Chaos the Demiurge was unconsciously influenced for good; and the universe, to the surprise even of its Maker, became almost perfect. The Demiurge regretted even its slight imperfection, and as he thought himself the Supreme God, he attempted to remedy this by sending a Messiah. To this Messiah, however, was actually united with Jesus the Saviour, Who redeemed men. These are either hylikoí or pneumatikoí.[25]
The first, or material men, will return to the grossness of matter and finally be consumed by fire; the second, or animal men, together with the Demiurge, will enter a middle state, neither Pleroma nor hyle; the purely spiritual men will be completely freed from the influence of the Demiurge and together with the Saviour and Achamoth, his spouse, will enter the Pleroma divested of body (hyle) and soul (psyché).[25][36] In this most common form of Gnosticism the Demiurge had an inferior though not intrinsically evil function in the universe as the head of the animal, or psychic world.[25]
The devil[edit]
Opinions on the devil, and his relationship to the Demiurge, varied. The Ophites held that he and his demons constantly oppose and thwart the human race, as it was on their account the devil was cast down into this world.[37] According to one variant of the Valentinian system, the Demiurge is also the maker, out of the appropriate substance, of an order of spiritual beings, the devil, the prince of this world, and his angels. But the devil, as being a spirit of wickedness, is able to recognise the higher spiritual world, of which his maker the Demiurge, who is only animal, has no real knowledge. The devil resides in this lower world, of which he is the prince, the Demiurge in the heavens; his mother Sophia in the middle region, above the heavens and below the Pleroma.[38]
The Valentinian Heracleon[39] interpreted the devil as the principle of evil, that of hyle (matter). As he writes in his commentary on John 4:21,
The mountain represents the Devil, or his world, since the Devil was one part of the whole of matter, but the world is the total mountain of evil, a deserted dwelling place of beasts, to which all who lived before the law and all Gentiles render worship. But Jerusalem represents the creation or the Creator whom the Jews worship. ... You then who are spiritual should worship neither the creation nor the Craftsman, but the Father of Truth.
This vilification of the creator was held to be inimical to Christianity by the early fathers of the church. In refuting the beliefs of the gnostics, Irenaeus stated that "Plato is proved to be more religious than these men, for he allowed that the same God was both just and good, having power over all things, and himself executing judgment."[40]
Cathars[edit]
Catharism apparently inherited their idea of Satan as the creator of the evil world from Gnosticism. Quispel writes,
There is a direct link between ancient Gnosticism and Catharism. The Cathars held that the creator of the world, Satanael, had usurped the name of God, but that he had subsequently been unmasked and told that he was not really God.[41]
Neoplatonism and Gnosticism[edit]
Main article: Neoplatonism and Gnosticism
Wikisource has original text related to this article:
Against the Gnostics; or, Against Those that Affirm the Creator of the Cosmos and the Cosmos Itself to be Evil
Gnosticism attributed falsehood or evil to the concept of the Demiurge or creator, though in some Gnostic traditions the creator is from a fallen, ignorant, or lesser—rather than evil—perspective, such as that of Valentinius.
Plotinus[edit]
The Neoplatonic philosopher Plotinus addressed within his works Gnosticism's conception of the Demiurge, which he saw as un-Hellenic and blasphemous to the Demiurge or creator of Plato. Plotinus, along with his teacher Ammonius Saccas, was the founder of Neoplatonism.[42] In the ninth tractate of the second of his Enneads, Plotinus criticizes his opponents for their appropriation of ideas from Plato:
From Plato come their punishments, their rivers of the underworld and the changing from body to body; as for the plurality they assert in the Intellectual Realm—the Authentic Existent, the Intellectual-Principle, the Second Creator and the Soul—all this is taken over from the Timaeus.
— Ennead 2.9.vi; emphasis added from A. H. Armstrong's introduction to Ennead 2.9
Of note here is the remark concerning the second hypostasis or Creator and third hypostasis or World Soul. Plotinus criticizes his opponents for "all the novelties through which they seek to establish a philosophy of their own" which, he declares, "have been picked up outside of the truth";[43] they attempt to conceal rather than admit their indebtedness to ancient philosophy, which they have corrupted by their extraneous and misguided embellishments. Thus their understanding of the Demiurge is similarly flawed in comparison to Plato’s original intentions.
Whereas Plato's Demiurge is good wishing good on his creation, Gnosticism contends that the Demiurge is not only the originator of evil but is evil as well. Hence the title of Plotinus' refutation: "Against Those That Affirm the Creator of the Kosmos and the Kosmos Itself to be Evil" (generally quoted as "Against the Gnostics"). Plotinus argues of the disconnect or great barrier that is created between the nous or mind's noumenon (see Heraclitus) and the material world (phenomenon) by believing the material world is evil.
The majority of scholars tend[44] to understand Plotinus' opponents as being a Gnostic sect—certainly (specifically Sethian), several such groups were present in Alexandria and elsewhere about the Mediterranean during Plotinus' lifetime. Plotinus specifically points to the Gnostic doctrine of Sophia and her emission of the Demiurge.
Though the former understanding certainly enjoys the greatest popularity, the identification of Plotinus' opponents as Gnostic is not without some contention. Christos Evangeliou has contended[45] that Plotinus' opponents might be better described as simply "Christian Gnostics", arguing that several of Plotinus' criticisms are as applicable to orthodox Christian doctrine as well. Also, considering the evidence from the time, Evangeliou thought the definition of the term "Gnostics" was unclear. Of note here is that while Plotinus' student Porphyry names Christianity specifically in Porphyry's own works, and Plotinus is to have been a known associate of the Christian Origen, none of Plotinus' works mention Christ or Christianity—whereas Plotinus specifically addresses his target in the Enneads as the Gnostics.
A. H. Armstrong identified the so-called "Gnostics" that Plotinus was attacking as Jewish and Pagan, in his introduction to the tract in his translation of the Enneads. Armstrong alluding to Gnosticism being a Hellenic philosophical heresy of sorts, which later engaged Christianity and Neoplatonism.[46][47]
John D. Turner, professor of religious studies at the University of Nebraska, and famed translator and editor of the Nag Hammadi library, stated[48] that the text Plotinus and his students read was Sethian Gnosticism, which predates Christianity. It appears that Plotinus attempted to clarify how the philosophers of the academy had not arrived at the same conclusions (such as dystheism or misotheism for the creator God as an answer to the problem of evil) as the targets of his criticism.
Emil Cioran also wrote his Le mauvais démiurge ("The Evil Demiurge"), published in 1969, influenced by Gnosticism and Schopenhauerian interpretation of Platonic ontology, as well as that of Plotinus.
See also[edit]
iconReligion portal
Albinus (philosopher)
Azazil
Emil Cioran
Devil in Christianity
Gnosticism
Mara (demon)
Mayasura
Narasimha
Problem of the creator of God
Ptah
Simulated reality
Tenth Intellect (Isma'ilism)
Urizen
References[edit]
Notes[edit]
^ Fontenrose, Joseph (1974). Python: A Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origin. Biblo & Tannen Publishers. p. 226. ISBN 978-0-8196-0285-5.
^ Sallis, John (1999). Chorology: On Beginning in Plato's Timaeus. Indiana University Press. p. 86. ISBN 0-253-21308-8.
^ Keightley, Thomas (1838). The mythology of ancient Greece and Italy. Oxford University. p. 44. theogony timaeus.
^ Kahn, Charles (2001). Pythagoras and the Pythagoreans. Indianapolis: Hacket Publishing. pp. 124. ISBN 978-0-872205758.
^ Jump up to: a b Karamanolis, George (2006). Plato and Aristotle in Agreement?: Platonists on Aristotle from Antiochus to Porphyry. Oxford University Press. p. 240. ISBN 0-19-926456-2.
^ The ordering principle is twofold; there is a principle known as the Demiurge, and there is the Soul of the All; the appellation "Zeus" is sometimes applied to the Demiurge and sometimes to the principle conducting the universe.[citation needed]
^ Wear, Sarah; Dillon, John (2013). Dionysius the Areopagite and the Neoplatonist Tradition: Despoiling the Hellenes. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd. p. 15. ISBN 9780754603856.
^ Wallis, Richard T.; Bregman, Jay, eds. (1992). Neoplatonism and Gnosticism. International Society for Neoplatonic Studies. SUNY Press. ISBN 978-0-7914-1337-1.
^ "Matter is therefore a non-existent"; Plotinus, Ennead 2, Tractate 4 Section 16.
^ Schopenhauer wrote of this Neoplatonist philosopher: "With Plotinus there even appears, probably for the first time in Western philosophy, idealism that had long been current in the East even at that time, for it taught (Enneads, iii, lib. vii, c.10) that the soul has made the world by stepping from eternity into time, with the explanation: 'For there is for this universe no other place than the soul or mind' (neque est alter hujus universi locus quam anima), indeed the ideality of time is expressed in the words: 'We should not accept time outside the soul or mind' (oportet autem nequaquam extra animam tempus accipere)." (Parerga and Paralipomena, Volume I, "Fragments for the History of Philosophy", § 7) Similarly, Professor Ludwig Noiré wrote: "For the first time in Western philosophy we find idealism proper in Plotinus (Enneads, iii, 7, 10), where he says, 'The only space or place of the world is the soul', and 'Time must not be assumed to exist outside the soul'." [5] It is worth noting, however, that like Plato but unlike Schopenhauer and other modern philosophers, Plotinus does not worry about whether or how we can get beyond our ideas in order to know external objects.
^ Numenius of Apamea was reported to have asked, "What else is Plato than Moses speaking Greek?" Fr. 8 Des Places.
^ See Theurgy, Iamblichus and henosis Archived 2010-01-09 at the Wayback Machine.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 5, 1.
^
It is on this account that Moses says, at the creation of man alone that God said, "Let us make man," which expression shows an assumption of other beings to himself as assistants, in order that God, the governor of all things, might have all the blameless intentions and actions of man, when he does right attributed to him; and that his other assistants might bear the imputation of his contrary actions.
— "Philo: On the Creation, XXIV". www.earlyjewishwritings.com.
^ Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho. c. 67.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 23, 1.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 23, 5.
^ Irenaeus, i. 24, 1.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 25.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 24, 4.
^ Hippolytus, Refutation of All Heresies. vii. 33.
^ Theodoret, Haer. Fab. ii. 3.
^ Epiphanius, Panarion, 28.
^ "Apocryphon of John," translation by Frederik Wisse in The Nag Hammadi Library. Accessed online at gnosis.org
^ Jump up to: a b c d e f g One or more of the preceding sentences incorporates text from a publication now in the public domain: Herbermann, Charles, ed. (1913). "Demiurge". Catholic Encyclopedia. New York: Robert Appleton Company.
^ Hipp. Ref. vi. 32, p. 191.
^ Hipp. Ref. vi. 9.
^ Quispel, Gilles (2008). Van Oort, Johannes (ed.). Gnostica, Judaica, Catholica: Collected Essays of Gilles Quispel. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV. p. 64. ISBN 978-90-04-13945-9.
^ Scholem, Gershom (1965). Jewish Gnosticism, Merkabah Mysticism, and Talmudic Tradition. Jewish Theological Seminary of America. p. 72.
^ Robert McLachlan Wilson (1976). Nag Hammadi and gnosis: Papers read at the First International Congress of Coptology. BRILL. pp. 21–23. Therefore his esoteric name is Jaldabaoth, whereas the perfect call him Ariel, because he has the appearance of a lion.
^ Gustav Davidson (1994). A dictionary of angels: including the fallen angels. Scrollhouse. p. 54.
^ David M Gwynn (2010). Religious Diversity in Late Antiquity. BRILL. p. 448.
^ Campbell Bonner (1949). "An Amulet of the Ophite Gnostics". The American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Hesperia Supplements, Vol. 8: 43–46.
^ Gilles Quispel; R. van den Broek; Maarten Jozef Vermaseren (1981). Studies in gnosticism and hellenistic religions. BRILL. pp. 40–41.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 5.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 6.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 30, 8.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, i. 5, 4.
^ Heracleon, Frag. 20.
^ Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, iii. 25.
^ Quispel, Gilles and Van Oort, Johannes (2008), p. 143.
^ John D. Turner. Neoplatonism.
^ "For, in sum, a part of their doctrine comes from Plato; all the novelties through which they seek to establish a philosophy of their own have been picked up outside of the truth." Plotinus, "Against the Gnostics", Ennead II, 9, 6.
^ Plotinus, Arthur Hilary Armstrong (trans.) (1966). Plotinus: Enneads II (Loeb Classical Library ed.). Harvard University Press. From this point to the end of ch. 12 Plotinus is attacking a Gnostic myth known to us best at present in the form it took in the system of Valentinus. The Mother, Sophia-Achamoth, produced as a result of the complicated sequence of events which followed the fall of the higher Sophia, and her offspring the Demiurge, the inferier and ignorant maker of the material universe, are Valentinian figures; cp. Irenaeus, Adversus haereses 1.4 and 5. Valentinius had been in Rome, and there is nothing improbable in the presence of Valentinians there in the time of Plotinus. But the evidence in the Life ch. 16 suggests that the Gnostics in Plotinus's circle belonged rather to the older group called Sethians or Archontics, related to the Ophites or Barbelognostics: they probably called themselves simply 'Gnostics'. Gnostic sects borrowed freely from each other, and it is likely that Valentinius took some of his ideas about Sophia from older Gnostic sources, and that his ideas in turn influenced other Gnostics.
^ Evangeliou, "Plotinus's Anti-Gnostic Polemic and Porphyry's Against the Christians", in Wallis & Bregman, p. 111.
^ From "Introduction to Against the Gnostics", Plotinus' Enneads as translated by A. H. Armstrong, pp. 220–222: "The treatise as it stands in the Enneads is a most powerful protest on behalf of Hellenic philosophy against the un-Hellenic heresy (as it was from the Platonist as well as the orthodox Christian point of view) of Gnosticism. There were Gnostics among Plotinus's own friends, whom he had not succeeded in converting (Enneads ch. 10 of this treatise) and he and his pupils devoted considerable time and energy to anti-Gnostic controversy (Life of Plotinus ch. 16). He obviously considered Gnosticism an extremely dangerous influence, likely to pervert the minds even of members of his own circle. It is impossible to attempt to give an account of Gnosticism here. By far the best discussion of what the particular group of Gnostics Plotinus knew believed is M. Puech's admirable contribution to Entretiens Hardt V (Les Sources de Plotin). But it is important for the understanding of this treatise to be clear about the reasons why Plotinus disliked them so intensely and thought their influence so harmful."
^ Armstrong, pp. 220–22: "Short statement of the doctrine of the three hypostasis, the One, Intellect and Soul; there cannot be more or fewer than these three. Criticism of the attempts to multiply the hypostasis, and especially of the idea of two intellects, one which thinks and that other which thinks that it thinks. (ch. 1). The true doctrine of Soul (ch. 2). The law of necessary procession and the eternity of the universe (ch.3). Attack on the Gnostic doctrine of the making of the universe by a fallen soul, and on their despising of the universe and the heavenly bodies (chs. 4–5). The senseless jargon of the Gnostics, their plagiarism from and perversion of Plato, and their insolent arrogance (ch. 6). The true doctrine about Universal Soul and the goodness of the universe which it forms and rules (chs. 7–8). Refutation of objections from the inequalities and injustices of human life (ch. 9). Ridiculous arrogance of the Gnostics who refuse to acknowledge the hierarchy of created gods and spirits and say that they alone are sons of God and superior to the heavens (ch. 9). The absurdities of the Gnostic doctrine of the fall of "Wisdom" (Sophia) and of the generation and activities of the Demiurge, maker of the visible universe (chs. 10–12). False and melodramatic Gnostic teaching about the cosmic spheres and their influence (ch. 13). The blasphemous falsity of the Gnostic claim to control the higher powers by magic and the absurdity of their claim to cure diseases by casting out demons (ch. 14). The false other-worldliness of the Gnostics leads to immorality (ch. 15). The true Platonic other-worldliness, which love and venerates the material universe in all its goodness and beauty as the most perfect possible image of the intelligible, contracted at length with the false, Gnostic, other-worldliness which hates and despises the material universe and its beauties (chs. 16–18)."
^ Turner, "Gnosticism and Platonism", in Wallis & Bregman.
Sources[edit]
This article incorporates text from the entry Demiurgus in A Dictionary of Christian Biography, Literature, Sects and Doctrines by William Smith and Henry Wace (1877), a publication now in the public domain.
There's certainly an ample amount that I could write about my desire to recreate this particular landmark at my signature scale, and at this particular time, but I prefer to let my work speak for itself.
All you really need to know are three sources from which I drew inspiration in the design of this forthcoming piece:
• Islamic architecture is a natural continuation of the near-east, Byzantine style which itself was directly informed by Roman innovations. This piece will serve as a continuation of my forays into Imperial Rome and Hagia Sophia. It will also elucidate a missing link between those styles and the later Mughal derivations represented by my Taj Mahal landscape.
• Jerusalem of the first century was the subject of my 2021 diorama depicting the entire ancient city, and my body of work is replete with examples of revisiting different landmarks built on the same sites. Many years before that, I first explored Jerusalem of the twelfth century in the classic video game, Assassin's Creed, and have been particularly fond of that era's depiction in the Kingdom of Heaven film, specifically the Director's Cut.
• Dome of the Rock was also recreated in this medium many years ago, and at a larger scale, by my friend Arthur Gugick. His innovative representation of the Islamic vernacular using printed tile designs is a cue I've applied here myself; albeit far less extensively, as I prefer the brightly colored blues and greens to provide most of the contrast with the gilded dome.
See all the Renderings NOW, only on Patreon! Link below ➡️ 🔗 ⤵️
www.patreon.com/posts/dome-of-rock-141401975?utm_medium=c...
#Artist #FineArt #SmallBusinessOwner #ChicagoArtist #LEGO #GoBricks #Architecture #Engineering #Creativity #Jerusalem #DomeOfTheRock #TempleMount #AssassinsCreed
At one of the most important times in my life, I feel unable to find my voice. The best I can do is express my frustration at my blindness and inability to elucidate. But frustration can only carry art so far...
La 4e et dernière partie de « La pose enchantée », une œuvre de René Magritte répertoriée mais dont avait perdu la trace depuis 1932, a été découverte par les chercheurs de l’Université de Liège sous une autre peinture du maître exposée au Musée Magritte Museum de Bruxelles, « Dieu n’est pas un saint ». Cette découverte met fin à une énigme de plus de 80 ans et permet de restituer complètement mais virtuellement une œuvre de première importance du maître du surréalisme belge.
Issu d’une étroite collaboration entre le Musées royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique (MRBAB) et le Centre Européen d’Archéométrie de l’Université de Liège, le projet de recherche, « Magritte on practice », consiste en l’étude systématique de la plus vaste collection du monde d’œuvres peintes par l’artiste, celle du Musée Magritte de Bruxelles, par le biais de tout un arsenal de techniques d’analyse physico-chimique et d’imagerie scientifique non invasives.
Ce projet d’envergure débuté en 2016, vise à jeter un nouvel éclairage sur l’œuvre peint de René Magritte (1898 - 1967), à travers le prisme de sa matérialité. Grace à la portabilité des instruments dont dispose le CEA, l’ensemble des examens et analyses est réalisé in situ, dans une salle du musée mise à la disposition des scientifiques.
Au-delà d’une connaissance approfondie du processus d’élaboration et des matériaux constitutifs d’un corpus d’œuvres couvrant l’entièreté de la carrière de l’artiste (42 peintures à l’huile et 21 gouaches réalisées entre 1921 et 1963), il s’agit de cerner au mieux Magritte en tant que praticien, de découvrir des œuvres de jeunesse inédites ou disparues, et, d’élucider les causes des altérations atypiques de la couche picturale qui affectent de manière récurrente les œuvres de jeunesse du peintre.
Quatre éléments dans quatre musées autour du monde
Ce tableau aujourd’hui disparu, mais bel et bien répertorié dans le catalogue raisonné consacré à l’artiste, refait surface pour la première fois en 2013, lorsque la radiographie par rayon X d’un tout autre tableau de la main du surréaliste belge, « Le portrait », exécuté en 1935 et conservé au MoMA (Museum of Modern Art, New York), mène à la découverte de la partie supérieure gauche de « La pose enchantée », sous les couches de peinture de la composition actuelle.
Dans la foulée, « Le modèle rouge », également peint par Magritte en 1935, conservé quant à lui au Moderna Museet (Stockholm), est identifié comme le tableau dissimulant la partie inférieure gauche de la composition perdue. Il faudra attendre 2016, pour qu’un troisième morceau de « La pose enchantée », correspondant à la partie inférieure droite, soit localisé, au Norwich Castle Museum cette fois, sous les couches de peinture de « La condition humaine », œuvre datant elle aussi de 1935.
Depuis, de nombreux responsables de collections et scientifiques spécialisés dans l’étude du patrimoine artistique regroupaient leurs efforts pour lever le dernier coin du voile de mystère entourant « La pose enchantée » et savoir quel tableau dans le monde dissimulait la pièce manquante du puzzle.
Les initiateurs du projet « Magritte on Practice » mettent fin aujourd’hui à cette énigme. En effet, l’examen radiographique à la mi-octobre d’un tableau de la collection du Musée Magritte a permis la découverte de la partie supérieure droite de « La pose enchantée », restée jusqu’alors introuvable. Il s’agit en l’occurrence de « Dieu n’est pas un saint », tableau réalisé entre 1935 et 1936, provenant du legs de Mme Irène Scutenaire-Hamoir en 1996. L’œuvre en question se trouve actuellement accrochée aux cimaises du Musée Magritte Museum.
En considérant la fâcheuse habitude qu’avait René Magritte de recycler le support de ses propres toiles, et au vu du nombre de ses tableaux dont la localisation reste inconnue, on peut raisonnablement s’attendre à découvrir très prochainement d’autres compositions ou des fragments ayant fait l’objet de remploi.
The 4th and last part of "La pose enchantée", a work by René Magritte listed but which had lost track since 1932, was discovered by researchers at the University of Liège under another painting by the master exhibited at the Musée Magritte Museum from Brussels, "God is not a saint". This discovery puts an end to an enigma of more than 80 years and makes it possible to completely but virtually restore a work of primary importance of the master of Belgian surrealism.
The result of a close collaboration between the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium (MRBAB) and the European Center of Archeometry at the University of Liège, the research project, "Magritte on practice", consists of systematic study of the world's largest collection of works painted by the artist, that of the Magritte Museum in Brussels, using a whole arsenal of non-invasive physico-chemical analysis techniques and scientific imagery.
This major project, started in 2016, aims to shed new light on René Magritte's painted work (1898 - 1967), through the prism of its materiality. Thanks to the portability of the instruments available to the CEA, all examinations and analyzes are carried out in situ, in a room in the museum made available to scientists.
Beyond an in-depth knowledge of the elaboration process and the materials making up a corpus of works covering the entire career of the artist (42 oil paintings and 21 gouaches produced between 1921 and 1963 ), it is a question of identifying Magritte as a practitioner as well as possible, of discovering unpublished or disappeared works of youth, and, of elucidating the causes of atypical alterations of the pictorial layer which affect in a recurring way the works of youth of the painter.
Four elements in four museums around the world
This painting, now disappeared, but indeed listed in the catalog raisonné devoted to the artist, resurfaced for the first time in 2013, when X-ray radiography of a completely different painting by the hand of the Belgian surrealist, "The portrait", executed in 1935 and kept at the MoMA (Museum of Modern Art, New York), leads to the discovery of the upper left of "La pose enchantée", under the paint layers of the current composition.
In the process, "The Red Model", also painted by Magritte in 1935, kept in turn at the Moderna Museet (Stockholm), is identified as the painting hiding the lower left part of the lost composition. It will be necessary to wait until 2016, so that a third piece of "The enchanted pose", corresponding to the lower right, is located, at the Norwich Castle Museum this time, under the layers of paint of "The human condition", work dating it also from 1935.
Since then, many collection managers and scientists specializing in the study of artistic heritage have pooled their efforts to lift the last corner of the veil of mystery surrounding "The Enchanted Pose" and find out which painting in the world concealed the missing piece of the puzzle.
The initiators of the "Magritte on Practice" project put an end to this riddle today. Indeed, a mid-October radiographic examination of a painting from the Magritte Museum's collection led to the discovery of the upper right part of "La pose enchantée", which until now had remained untraceable. It is in this case "God is not a saint", a painting produced between 1935 and 1936, from the bequest of Mrs. Irène Scutenaire-Hamoir in 1996. The work in question is currently hanging on the picture rails of the Musée Magritte Museum.
Considering the annoying habit that René Magritte had of recycling the support of his own paintings, and given the number of his paintings whose location remains unknown, we can reasonably expect to discover very soon other compositions or fragments having been re-employed.
Both images were shot to day, Same moon and 12 hours apart. One is a Dusk Moon and another is Dawn Moon, One is Rising Moon and another is Setting Moon.
Dear Friends,
It is for you to guess which one is what?
Thank You and Have Good Moon Day
[http://www.flickr.com/photos/21484776@N00]
Good Question Gina. I am glad , you are giving an opportunity to elucidate.
This is "Full Moon" (Pournima) falls in the Tamil Month of Thai, in the constellation of Karkataka and comes under the influence of the Star "Poosam, aka Pushya". You must be knowing already, this day is celebrated as "Thai Poosam" by Tamilians all over world. People observe fasting, penance and what not. This day is declared as national holiday in many countries and people's dedication, devotion and determination excells.
This day is dedicated to Lord Muruga, aka as Skanda, Karthigeya, Subramaniya. Great procession with un believable sights can be witnessed in Penang, Kualalumput, Singapore, Bangkok, Fiji and of course many places in South India. Similar procession can be seen in Lodon, Paris, Zurich also.
You know Lord Muruga is the Sun of The Supreme God Shiva.
Thank you , Gina. With Blessing and Best wishes.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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This article is about the group of viruses. For the disease involved in the 2019–20 coronavirus pandemic, see Coronavirus disease 2019. For the virus that causes this disease, see Severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2.
Orthocoronavirinae
Coronaviruses 004 lores.jpg
Transmission electron micrograph (TEM) of avian infectious bronchitis virus
SARS-CoV-2 without background.png
Illustration of the morphology of coronaviruses; the club-shaped viral spike peplomers, colored red, create the look of a corona surrounding the virion when observed with an electron microscope.
Virus classification e
(unranked):Virus
Realm:Riboviria
Phylum:incertae sedis
Order:Nidovirales
Family:Coronaviridae
Subfamily:Orthocoronavirinae
Genera[1]
Alphacoronavirus
Betacoronavirus
Gammacoronavirus
Deltacoronavirus
Synonyms[2][3][4]
Coronavirinae
Coronaviruses are a group of related viruses that cause diseases in mammals and birds. In humans, coronaviruses cause respiratory tract infections that can range from mild to lethal. Mild illnesses include some cases of the common cold (which has other possible causes, predominantly rhinoviruses), while more lethal varieties can cause SARS, MERS, and COVID-19. Symptoms in other species vary: in chickens, they cause an upper respiratory tract disease, while in cows and pigs they cause diarrhea. There are yet to be vaccines or antiviral drugs to prevent or treat human coronavirus infections.
Coronaviruses constitute the subfamily Orthocoronavirinae, in the family Coronaviridae, order Nidovirales, and realm Riboviria.[5][6] They are enveloped viruses with a positive-sense single-stranded RNA genome and a nucleocapsid of helical symmetry. The genome size of coronaviruses ranges from approximately 26 to 32 kilobases, one of the largest among RNA viruses.[7] They have characteristic club-shaped spikes that project from their surface, which in electron micrographs create an image reminiscent of the solar corona from which their name derives.[8]
Contents
1Discovery
2Etymology
3Morphology
4Genome
5Life cycle
5.1Entry
5.2Replication
5.3Release
6Transmission
7Taxonomy
8Evolution
9Human coronaviruses
10Outbreaks of coronavirus diseases
10.1Severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS)
10.2Middle East respiratory syndrome (MERS)
10.3Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19)
11Other animals
11.1Diseases caused
11.2Domestic animals
12Genomic cis-acting elements
13Genome packaging
14See also
15References
16Further reading
Discovery
Coronaviruses were first discovered in the 1930s when an acute respiratory infection of domesticated chickens was shown to be caused by infectious bronchitis virus (IBV). In the 1940s, two more animal coronaviruses, mouse hepatitis virus (MHV) and transmissible gastroenteritis virus (TGEV), were isolated.[9]
Human coronaviruses were discovered in the 1960s.[10] The earliest ones studied were from human patients with the common cold, which were later named human coronavirus 229E and human coronavirus OC43.[11] Other human coronaviruses have since been identified, including SARS-CoV in 2003, HCoV NL63 in 2004, HKU1 in 2005, MERS-CoV in 2012, and SARS-CoV-2 in 2019. Most of these have involved serious respiratory tract infections.
Etymology
The name "coronavirus" is derived from Latin corona, meaning "crown" or "wreath", itself a borrowing from Greek κορώνη korṓnē, "garland, wreath". The name refers to the characteristic appearance of virions (the infective form of the virus) by electron microscopy, which have a fringe of large, bulbous surface projections creating an image reminiscent of a crown or of a solar corona. This morphology is created by the viral spike peplomers, which are proteins on the surface of the virus.[8][12]
Morphology
Cross-sectional model of a coronavirus
Cross-sectional model of a coronavirus
Coronaviruses are large pleomorphic spherical particles with bulbous surface projections.[13] The average diameter of the virus particles is around 120 nm (.12 μm). The diameter of the envelope is ~80 nm (.08 μm) and the spikes are ~20 nm (.02 μm) long. The envelope of the virus in electron micrographs appears as a distinct pair of electron dense shells.[14][15]
The viral envelope consists of a lipid bilayer where the membrane (M), envelope (E) and spike (S) structural proteins are anchored.[16] A subset of coronaviruses (specifically the members of betacoronavirus subgroup A) also have a shorter spike-like surface protein called hemagglutinin esterase (HE).[5]
Inside the envelope, there is the nucleocapsid, which is formed from multiple copies of the nucleocapsid (N) protein, which are bound to the positive-sense single-stranded RNA genome in a continuous beads-on-a-string type conformation.[15][17] The lipid bilayer envelope, membrane proteins, and nucleocapsid protect the virus when it is outside the host cell.[18]
Genome
See also: Severe acute respiratory syndrome-related coronavirus § Genome
Schematic representation of the genome organization and functional domains of S protein for SARS-CoV and MERS-CoV
Coronaviruses contain a positive-sense, single-stranded RNA genome. The genome size for coronaviruses ranges from 26.4 to 31.7 kilobases.[7] The genome size is one of the largest among RNA viruses. The genome has a 5′ methylated cap and a 3′ polyadenylated tail.[15]
The genome organization for a coronavirus is 5′-leader-UTR-replicase/transcriptase-spike (S)-envelope (E)-membrane (M)-nucleocapsid (N)-3′UTR-poly (A) tail. The open reading frames 1a and 1b, which occupy the first two-thirds of the genome, encode the replicase/transcriptase polyprotein. The replicase/transcriptase polyprotein self cleaves to form nonstructural proteins.[15]
The later reading frames encode the four major structural proteins: spike, envelope, membrane, and nucleocapsid.[19] Interspersed between these reading frames are the reading frames for the accessory proteins. The number of accessory proteins and their function is unique depending on the specific coronavirus.[15]
Life cycle
Entry
The life cycle of a coronavirus
Infection begins when the viral spike (S) glycoprotein attaches to its complementary host cell receptor. After attachment, a protease of the host cell cleaves and activates the receptor-attached spike protein. Depending on the host cell protease available, cleavage and activation allows the virus to enter the host cell by endocytosis or direct fusion of the viral envelop with the host membrane.[20]
On entry into the host cell, the virus particle is uncoated, and its genome enters the cell cytoplasm.[15] The coronavirus RNA genome has a 5′ methylated cap and a 3′ polyadenylated tail, which allows the RNA to attach to the host cell's ribosome for translation.[15] The host ribosome translates the initial overlapping open reading frame of the virus genome and forms a long polyprotein. The polyprotein has its own proteases which cleave the polyprotein into multiple nonstructural proteins.[15]
Replication
A number of the nonstructural proteins coalesce to form a multi-protein replicase-transcriptase complex (RTC). The main replicase-transcriptase protein is the RNA-dependent RNA polymerase (RdRp). It is directly involved in the replication and transcription of RNA from an RNA strand. The other nonstructural proteins in the complex assist in the replication and transcription process. The exoribonuclease nonstructural protein, for instance, provides extra fidelity to replication by providing a proofreading function which the RNA-dependent RNA polymerase lacks.[21]
One of the main functions of the complex is to replicate the viral genome. RdRp directly mediates the synthesis of negative-sense genomic RNA from the positive-sense genomic RNA. This is followed by the replication of positive-sense genomic RNA from the negative-sense genomic RNA.[15] The other important function of the complex is to transcribe the viral genome. RdRp directly mediates the synthesis of negative-sense subgenomic RNA molecules from the positive-sense genomic RNA. This is followed by the transcription of these negative-sense subgenomic RNA molecules to their corresponding positive-sense mRNAs.[15]
Release
The replicated positive-sense genomic RNA becomes the genome of the progeny viruses. The mRNAs are gene transcripts of the last third of the virus genome after the initial overlapping reading frame. These mRNAs are translated by the host's ribosomes into the structural proteins and a number of accessory proteins.[15] RNA translation occurs inside the endoplasmic reticulum. The viral structural proteins S, E, and M move along the secretory pathway into the Golgi intermediate compartment. There, the M proteins direct most protein-protein interactions required for assembly of viruses following its binding to the nucleocapsid.[22] Progeny viruses are then released from the host cell by exocytosis through secretory vesicles.[22]
Transmission
The interaction of the coronavirus spike protein with its complement host cell receptor is central in determining the tissue tropism, infectivity, and species range of the virus.[23][24] The SARS coronavirus, for example, infects human cells by attaching to the angiotensin-converting enzyme 2 (ACE2) receptor.[25]
Taxonomy
For a more detailed list of members, see Coronaviridae.
Phylogenetic tree of coronaviruses
The scientific name for coronavirus is Orthocoronavirinae or Coronavirinae.[2][3][4] Coronavirus belongs to the family of Coronaviridae.
Genus: Alphacoronavirus
Species: Human coronavirus 229E, Human coronavirus NL63, Miniopterus bat coronavirus 1, Miniopterus bat coronavirus HKU8, Porcine epidemic diarrhea virus, Rhinolophus bat coronavirus HKU2, Scotophilus bat coronavirus 512
Genus Betacoronavirus; type species: Murine coronavirus
Species: Betacoronavirus 1 (Human coronavirus OC43), Human coronavirus HKU1, Murine coronavirus, Pipistrellus bat coronavirus HKU5, Rousettus bat coronavirus HKU9, Severe acute respiratory syndrome-related coronavirus (SARS-CoV, SARS-CoV-2), Tylonycteris bat coronavirus HKU4, Middle East respiratory syndrome-related coronavirus, Hedgehog coronavirus 1 (EriCoV)
Genus Gammacoronavirus; type species: Infectious bronchitis virus
Species: Beluga whale coronavirus SW1, Infectious bronchitis virus
Genus Deltacoronavirus; type species: Bulbul coronavirus HKU11
Species: Bulbul coronavirus HKU11, Porcine coronavirus HKU15
Evolution
The most recent common ancestor (MRCA) of all coronaviruses has been estimated to have existed as recently as 8000 BCE, though some models place the MRCA as far back as 55 million years or more, implying long term coevolution with bats.[26] The MRCAs of the alphacoronavirus line has been placed at about 2400 BCE, the betacoronavirus line at 3300 BCE, the gammacoronavirus line at 2800 BCE, and the deltacoronavirus line at about 3000 BCE. It appears that bats and birds, as warm-blooded flying vertebrates, are ideal hosts for the coronavirus gene source (with bats for alphacoronavirus and betacoronavirus, and birds for gammacoronavirus and deltacoronavirus) to fuel coronavirus evolution and dissemination.[27]
Bovine coronavirus and canine respiratory coronaviruses diverged from a common ancestor recently (~ 1950).[28] Bovine coronavirus and human coronavirus OC43 diverged around the 1890s. Bovine coronavirus diverged from the equine coronavirus species at the end of the 18th century.[29]
The MRCA of human coronavirus OC43 has been dated to the 1950s.[30]
MERS-CoV, although related to several bat coronavirus species, appears to have diverged from these several centuries ago.[31] The human coronavirus NL63 and a bat coronavirus shared an MRCA 563–822 years ago.[32]
The most closely related bat coronavirus and SARS-CoV diverged in 1986.[33] A path of evolution of the SARS virus and keen relationship with bats have been proposed. The authors suggest that the coronaviruses have been coevolved with bats for a long time and the ancestors of SARS-CoV first infected the species of the genus Hipposideridae, subsequently spread to species of the Rhinolophidae and then to civets, and finally to humans.[34][35]
Alpaca coronavirus and human coronavirus 229E diverged before 1960.[36]
Human coronaviruses
Illustration of SARSr-CoV virion
Coronaviruses vary significantly in risk factor. Some can kill more than 30% of those infected (such as MERS-CoV), and some are relatively harmless, such as the common cold.[15] Coronaviruses cause colds with major symptoms, such as fever, and a sore throat from swollen adenoids, occurring primarily in the winter and early spring seasons.[37] Coronaviruses can cause pneumonia (either direct viral pneumonia or secondary bacterial pneumonia) and bronchitis (either direct viral bronchitis or secondary bacterial bronchitis).[38] The human coronavirus discovered in 2003, SARS-CoV, which causes severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS), has a unique pathogenesis because it causes both upper and lower respiratory tract infections.[38]
Six species of human coronaviruses are known, with one species subdivided into two different strains, making seven strains of human coronaviruses altogether. Four of these strains produce the generally mild symptoms of the common cold:
Human coronavirus OC43 (HCoV-OC43), of the genus β-CoV
Human coronavirus HKU1 (HCoV-HKU1), β-CoV, its genome has 75% similarity to OC43[39]
Human coronavirus 229E (HCoV-229E), α-CoV
Human coronavirus NL63 (HCoV-NL63), α-CoV
Three strains (two species) produce symptoms that are potentially severe; all three of these are β-CoV strains:
Middle East respiratory syndrome-related coronavirus (MERS-CoV)
Severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus (SARS-CoV)
Severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2)
The coronaviruses HCoV-229E, -NL63, -OC43, and -HKU1 continually circulate in the human population and cause respiratory infections in adults and children worldwide.[40]
Outbreaks of coronavirus diseases
Severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS)
Main article: Severe acute respiratory syndrome
Characteristics of human coronavirus strains
MERS-CoV, SARS-CoV, SARS-CoV-2,
and related diseases
MERS-CoVSARS-CoVSARS-CoV-2
DiseaseMERSSARSCOVID-19
Outbreaks2012, 2015,
20182002–20042019–2020
pandemic
Epidemiology
Date of first
identified caseJune
2012November
2002December
2019[41]
Location of first
identified caseJeddah,
Saudi ArabiaShunde,
ChinaWuhan,
China
Age average5644[42][a]56[43]
Sex ratio3.3:10.8:1[44]1.6:1[43]
Confirmed cases24948096[45]1,601,018[46][b]
Deaths858774[45]95,718[46][b]
Case fatality rate37%9.2%6.0%[46]
Symptoms
Fever98%99–100%87.9%[47]
Dry cough47%29–75%67.7%[47]
Dyspnea72%40–42%18.6%[47]
Diarrhea26%20–25%3.7%[47]
Sore throat21%13–25%13.9%[47]
Ventilatory support24.5%[48]14–20%4.1%[49]
Notes
^ Based on data from Hong Kong.
^ Jump up to: a b Data as of 10 April 2020.
vte
In 2003, following the outbreak of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) which had begun the prior year in Asia, and secondary cases elsewhere in the world, the World Health Organization (WHO) issued a press release stating that a novel coronavirus identified by a number of laboratories was the causative agent for SARS. The virus was officially named the SARS coronavirus (SARS-CoV). More than 8,000 people were infected, about ten percent of whom died.[25]
Middle East respiratory syndrome (MERS)
Main article: Middle East respiratory syndrome
In September 2012, a new type of coronavirus was identified, initially called Novel Coronavirus 2012, and now officially named Middle East respiratory syndrome coronavirus (MERS-CoV).[50][51] The World Health Organization issued a global alert soon after.[52] The WHO update on 28 September 2012 said the virus did not seem to pass easily from person to person.[53] However, on 12 May 2013, a case of human-to-human transmission in France was confirmed by the French Ministry of Social Affairs and Health.[54] In addition, cases of human-to-human transmission were reported by the Ministry of Health in Tunisia. Two confirmed cases involved people who seemed to have caught the disease from their late father, who became ill after a visit to Qatar and Saudi Arabia. Despite this, it appears the virus had trouble spreading from human to human, as most individuals who are infected do not transmit the virus.[55] By 30 October 2013, there were 124 cases and 52 deaths in Saudi Arabia.[56]
After the Dutch Erasmus Medical Centre sequenced the virus, the virus was given a new name, Human Coronavirus—Erasmus Medical Centre (HCoV-EMC). The final name for the virus is Middle East respiratory syndrome coronavirus (MERS-CoV). The only U.S. cases (both survived) were recorded in May 2014.[57]
In May 2015, an outbreak of MERS-CoV occurred in the Republic of Korea, when a man who had traveled to the Middle East, visited four hospitals in the Seoul area to treat his illness. This caused one of the largest outbreaks of MERS-CoV outside the Middle East.[58] As of December 2019, 2,468 cases of MERS-CoV infection had been confirmed by laboratory tests, 851 of which were fatal, a mortality rate of approximately 34.5%.[59]
Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19)
Main article: Coronavirus disease 2019
In December 2019, a pneumonia outbreak was reported in Wuhan, China.[60] On 31 December 2019, the outbreak was traced to a novel strain of coronavirus,[61] which was given the interim name 2019-nCoV by the World Health Organization (WHO),[62][63][64] later renamed SARS-CoV-2 by the International Committee on Taxonomy of Viruses. Some researchers have suggested the Huanan Seafood Wholesale Market may not be the original source of viral transmission to humans.[65][66]
As of 10 April 2020, there have been at least 95,718[46] confirmed deaths and more than 1,601,018[46] confirmed cases in the coronavirus pneumonia pandemic. The Wuhan strain has been identified as a new strain of Betacoronavirus from group 2B with approximately 70% genetic similarity to the SARS-CoV.[67] The virus has a 96% similarity to a bat coronavirus, so it is widely suspected to originate from bats as well.[65][68] The pandemic has resulted in travel restrictions and nationwide lockdowns in several countries.
Other animals
Coronaviruses have been recognized as causing pathological conditions in veterinary medicine since the 1930s.[9] Except for avian infectious bronchitis, the major related diseases have mainly an intestinal location.[69]
Diseases caused
Coronaviruses primarily infect the upper respiratory and gastrointestinal tract of mammals and birds. They also cause a range of diseases in farm animals and domesticated pets, some of which can be serious and are a threat to the farming industry. In chickens, the infectious bronchitis virus (IBV), a coronavirus, targets not only the respiratory tract but also the urogenital tract. The virus can spread to different organs throughout the chicken.[70] Economically significant coronaviruses of farm animals include porcine coronavirus (transmissible gastroenteritis coronavirus, TGE) and bovine coronavirus, which both result in diarrhea in young animals. Feline coronavirus: two forms, feline enteric coronavirus is a pathogen of minor clinical significance, but spontaneous mutation of this virus can result in feline infectious peritonitis (FIP), a disease associated with high mortality. Similarly, there are two types of coronavirus that infect ferrets: Ferret enteric coronavirus causes a gastrointestinal syndrome known as epizootic catarrhal enteritis (ECE), and a more lethal systemic version of the virus (like FIP in cats) known as ferret systemic coronavirus (FSC).[71] There are two types of canine coronavirus (CCoV), one that causes mild gastrointestinal disease and one that has been found to cause respiratory disease. Mouse hepatitis virus (MHV) is a coronavirus that causes an epidemic murine illness with high mortality, especially among colonies of laboratory mice.[72] Sialodacryoadenitis virus (SDAV) is highly infectious coronavirus of laboratory rats, which can be transmitted between individuals by direct contact and indirectly by aerosol. Acute infections have high morbidity and tropism for the salivary, lachrymal and harderian glands.[73]
A HKU2-related bat coronavirus called swine acute diarrhea syndrome coronavirus (SADS-CoV) causes diarrhea in pigs.[74]
Prior to the discovery of SARS-CoV, MHV had been the best-studied coronavirus both in vivo and in vitro as well as at the molecular level. Some strains of MHV cause a progressive demyelinating encephalitis in mice which has been used as a murine model for multiple sclerosis. Significant research efforts have been focused on elucidating the viral pathogenesis of these animal coronaviruses, especially by virologists interested in veterinary and zoonotic diseases.[75]
Domestic animals
Infectious bronchitis virus (IBV) causes avian infectious bronchitis.
Porcine coronavirus (transmissible gastroenteritis coronavirus of pigs, TGEV).[76][77]
Bovine coronavirus (BCV), responsible for severe profuse enteritis in of young calves.
Feline coronavirus (FCoV) causes mild enteritis in cats as well as severe Feline infectious peritonitis (other variants of the same virus).
the two types of canine coronavirus (CCoV) (one causing enteritis, the other found in respiratory diseases).
Turkey coronavirus (TCV) causes enteritis in turkeys.
Ferret enteric coronavirus causes epizootic catarrhal enteritis in ferrets.
Ferret systemic coronavirus causes FIP-like systemic syndrome in ferrets.[78]
Pantropic canine coronavirus.
Rabbit enteric coronavirus causes acute gastrointestinal disease and diarrhea in young European rabbits. Mortality rates are high.[79]
Porcine epidemic diarrhea virus (PED or PEDV), has emerged around the world.[80]
Genomic cis-acting elements
In common with the genomes of all other RNA viruses, coronavirus genomes contain cis-acting RNA elements that ensure the specific replication of viral RNA by a virally encoded RNA-dependent RNA polymerase. The embedded cis-acting elements devoted to coronavirus replication constitute a small fraction of the total genome, but this is presumed to be a reflection of the fact that coronaviruses have the largest genomes of all RNA viruses. The boundaries of cis-acting elements essential to replication are fairly well-defined, and the RNA secondary structures of these regions are understood. However, how these cis-acting structures and sequences interact with the viral replicase and host cell components to allow RNA synthesis is not well understood.[81][5]
Genome packaging
The assembly of infectious coronavirus particles requires the selection of viral genomic RNA from a cellular pool that contains an abundant excess of non-viral and viral RNAs. Among the seven to ten specific viral mRNAs synthesized in virus-infected cells, only the full-length genomic RNA is packaged efficiently into coronavirus particles. Studies have revealed cis-acting elements and trans-acting viral factors involved in the coronavirus genome encapsidation and packaging. Understanding the molecular mechanisms of genome selection and packaging is critical for developing antiviral strategies and viral expression vectors based on the coronavirus genome.[81][5]
The statue of Kristian Birkeland next to the Northern Lights cathedral in Alta, Norway. Birkeland is best remembered for his theories of atmospheric electric currents that elucidated the nature of the aurora borealis.
Title: The threads that knit heaven and earth together: Photography, Artwork, write up by Pranav Babu. The purpose of this photo is to show people through validated scientific studies ( quantum physics, psychology, kinesiology ) how truly empowered they are, how they can manifest any of their dreams into reality, starting from today. Read on to find out how. I have written one version poetically in relation to the photo and another version with pure facts from scientific studies to back up my statements.
Poetic version:
The world we see around us is an illusory reflection of who we are and the reality we decode, a projection of our inner realms of consciousness. Only when we free ourselves from the shackles of our worldly woes and look up beyond this world do we see the threads of the universe connecting us all together in the quantum dance of life. to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet. To hear the murmurs of the wind tell you we are infinite consciousness we are infinite possibilities waiting to blossom from the multi-verse of existence. (1 line from this is from Rumi, the rest from me)
Scientific version:
Quantum physics proves we live in the Zero point field, a quantum world which is like liquid jelly which hasn’t set yet, since subatomic particles are only a potential of something of infinite possibilities. The scientist Cleeve Baxter, hooked up a lie detector polygraph reader to a several plants and thought different thoughts, only when he thought of strong emotional thoughts like burning the plant and killing it, the polygraph went crazy and the plant sent out a plethora of bio-photon emissions. In other experiments a man’s DNA was taken outside the human body and the man was put in a room far away and asked to feel specific emotions, the DNA strand separated from the host body, mirrored the feelings of the host. Dr Popanin’s phantom DNA experiment further elucidates this , he put some photons inside an oxygen-less vacuum and put a strand of DNA inside, all the photons aligned themselves into the shape of the DNA, even when the DNA was taken out the photons still remained in the shape of the DNA. Dr Masato Emoto, placed a different bottles of water and said either loving or hateful words to each bottle. Under the microscope the water which had hate resonated to it, looked like a cancerous shape, yet the water which had love spoken to it turned into a beautiful symmetrical snowflake type shape (remember your body is 60-70 percent water, imagine what your every thought does to you?). Under hypnosis, women have increased breast cup size, under Paul Mckenna’s hypnosis a man was asked to not see his son, after an hour of programming this into his mind. The son slapped the father and the father felt & saw nothing. The son then stood in front of several papers with patterns and words on them, the man was asked to read what the word said and he described the pattern and said the word with accuracy each time. All we see is visual light which is a tiny frequency of what we experience within the electro magnetic spectrum it is a mere 0.05 percent of all the energy known to exist in this world according to science. Yet we as humans are arrogant enough to not believe in things we cannot see.
WHAT DOES ALL THIS MEAN? If consciousness was confined to just our minds, phenomena like telepathy and even agencies like the CIA employing remote viewers (psychic spies, proven in declassified documents) None of this would be possible. Have you ever picked up the phone or called someone exactly when they wanted to speak to you? Our every thought, impacts reality since our Dna and our every thought sends out energy which changes building blocks of life, atoms and photos are utterly malleable and mouldable by our intentions. Does this mean we should only feel good and think positive? NO this is repression. People should realise the secrets of the universe lie in energy and vibration and whatever we focus on, energy flows into, and whatever energy flows into something grows. So can you really afford to focus on what you don’t want in life? When we experience problems or even bad thoughts if we realise “ this mind is not me, it’s just a bunch of thought processes based on the current set of experiences. When the hypothalamus secretes dopamines and oxytocin I feel good, when it secretes cortisol I feel stressed or sad " when we endure hardships the first thing we must do is ask “ which of my needs are not met? What am I doing to make it better? Instead of blaming others for our problems, be it the global elite or our boss since the moment we blame others for our circumstance we give away our immense power to be the change we wish to see in the world. The biggest conspiracies are not about secret governments or bohemian grove or freemasons and the illuminati, the biggest secret kept from you is how truly powerful you are as a soul because the moment you believe anything less you are doomed for your paradigms and belief systems are the true architects and builders of the life you have
Throughout our lives, certain archetypes shape our sense of self, the world, the road we’re on, and the goals we seek. Our idea of good and evil, male and female, leaders, parents, mentors, friends, and more are framed in the stories of the Bible. The picture’s not always pleasant, but it never fails to be instructive and is sometimes downright revelatory. Mirror, mirror on the wall: what’s the purpose of us all?
Topics of the Day:
Sunday, Day 1: “Introduction” and “Your Life as Revelatory Source. How did you get to be who you are? Your life is a sacred text read by all.
Monday, Day 2: “The Character of God” and “The Male/Female Thing” You and I meet God in sacramental and sacred encounters. But in Scripture, we meet the God who is one character among many in the remarkable story of faith. And our second topic — Gender is complicated. Adam and Eve were just the beginning of the conflict. Gender issues remain with us in secular and sacred realms.
Tuesday, Day 3: “Follow the Leader” and “The Parent Trap”
Leadership styles come and go. From biblical patriarchs and kings to modern-day presidents and celebrities, we follow the leaders we invent and choose. And our 2nd topic – The Ten Commandments bid us to honor our father and our mother. Jesus says we should hate our parents. Please explain!
Wednesday, Day 4:“The Guiding Light” & “You’ve Got a Friend” Elisha had Elijah. Timothy and Titus had Paul. Thank God for mentors: those significant folks along the way who show us how life works. Our second topic — It’s not good for us to be alone, as Genesis attests. Famous friendships help us explore the role of holy companioning.
Thursday, Day 5: “Who’s Your Devil?” and “What a Wonderful World” Everyone fears the Dark Side. Who’s the enemy, and where does it reside? And our second topic — The universe is beautiful. Earth is our home. The Bible and science agree it will come to an end one day. What’s our relationship to a fragile planet?
Friday, Day 6: “And the Purpose of It All Is” We’re born, we live, and we die. For most of us, that’s a pretty full plate of responsibilities. What should we do with this “one wild and precious life?”What qualities are we looking for in the aspirants at Saint-Sulpice? Parish Experience - Before an aspirant joins the Society, Sulpicians want to ensure that an aspirant has completed at least two years of parish work, which will have allowed him/her to develop a strong sense of belonging to the diocese and an attachment to the parish ministry. Indeed, they need priests who live and love their priesthood and who wish to assist the bishops in the service of seminarians and diocesan priests. Ability to work in a team - Sulpicians are looking for candidates who are able to work in a community environment and are able to work collegially on a mission in consultation with fellow priests as well as with lay people or religious. To know how to share one's faith through a life of prayer that nourishes a true enthusiasm for Christ and his Gospel, for the Church and the priesthood. The Apostolic Spirit who animated their founder, Jean-Jacques Olier, is the source of this sharing. Special gifts that open the way to a quality intellectual and professional preparation in several fields: spiritual accompaniment, teaching of philosophy or theology, pastoral animation. This presupposes the openness to learning of a constantly renewed Sulpician pedagogy. How can a priest become a Sulpician? Prerequisites - To be a diocesan priest incardinated in a diocese, to have completed at least two years of parish ministry in the diocese of origin and to be available for service in the Canadian Priests of St. Sulpice Province. Initial recognition - If a priest meets these prerequisites, he or she can contact the Sulpician Vocations Officer for his or her region (see list below). He will inform him about the regular meetings organized for the aspirants to the Society and he will be in charge of this first experience with Saint-Sulpice until the Provincial Council accepts him as a candidate. His participation in these meetings will give him sufficient information about the Company and the demands of Sulpician life. This priest will also be accompanied spiritually in discerning his possible Sulpician vocation. Candidature - After this time of discernment, with the support of the Sulpician Vocations Officer in his region, he asked his bishop for written authorization to make an experience in Saint-Sulpice. The aspirant then applies by contacting the provincial superior or the provincial delegate in writing. First experience in Saint-Sulpice - If formally accepted and admitted as a candidate, the Provincial Council becomes directly responsible for his experience with the Priests of Saint-Sulpice. He then took over his duties and gave him a first appointment to a team in the Canadian Province from the moment his bishop relieved him of his duties. Usually, this first experience in the Company lasts at least two years.The expression "art Saint-Sulpice" is misleading, because it encompasses very different periods and artists in the same name and in the same discredit, because it confuses art of reproduction and wide circulation with the search for an authentic sacred art which has been continuous for nearly two centuries.
In the proper sense, Sulpician art refers to the objects that are sold in the specialized shops that surround the church of the same name in Paris: industrial and economic art, of poor quality, where the mimicry and the fading of style reassure and somehow carry the seal of an official art, orthodox and without excess. Thus understood, Sulpician art is of all times and every effort to renew religious art naturally secretes its counterfeiting. The virgins and saints, with their white eyes and pale air, coming from Ary Scheffer and his raphaelism, the statues of the Virgin of Lourdes, poor translation of the mediocre model of the pious sculptor Cabuchet, the overly sensitive effigies of Thérèse de Lisieux or Saint Anthony of Padua, even the neo-byzantine works, pale reflection. In fact, the interest of Sulpician art is not only sociological; it is also, as in countertype, the revealing of the interest that religious art has never ceased to arouse, against all appearances. Holy Mirror! The creatures on the reverse will be merged in the reflected image but probably not in a laplacian way - just as concentric circles. If anyone has a magic mirrorWe first address the problem of simultaneous image segmentation and smoothing by approaching the paradigm from a curve evolution perspective. In particular, we let a set of deformable contours define the boundaries between regions in an image where we model the data via piecewise smooth functions
www.vallombrosa.org/the-holy-mirror-discovering-ourselves...
Origin of the Holy Mirrors!
Mirrors have been regarded as sacred at least since the Han Dynasty in China. Many of these mirrors and from the subsequent Wei dynasty have been found in Japan. They bore images of gods and sacred animals particularly the Chinese dragon (1,2) . They were very popular, and possibly later manufactured, in Japan. The bronze mirrors are found in great number in ancient (kofun period) burial mounds in Japan. In the biggest archeological find of 33 mirrors, the mirrors were placed surrounding the coffin such that their reflective surface faced the deceased. The Han mirrors were "magic" in that while they reflected they were also able to project an image usually of the deities and animals on the back and refered to as "light passing mirrors" (透明鑑） (Needham, 1965, p.xlic; Needham & Wang, 1977, pp. 96-97).This magic property is due to the their method of construction. When polishing the reflective face of the mirror, the patter on the back influences the pressure brought to bear on the reflective surface and change the extent to which it is concave. Muraoka also claims that Differences in the (slight) "inequality of curvature" (Ayrton & Perry, 1878, p 139; see also Thompson, 1897, and Needham & Wang, 1977, p96 for a diagram) of the mirror result in the mirror reflecting light bearing the pattern shown on the reverse. More recent research has elucidated the precise mathematical model describing the optics of these mirrors as a laplacian image (Berry, 2006), a type of spatial filter today used for edge detection and to blend two images together. It is not known whether the mirrors popular in ancient Japan were also able to project, but later during the Nara period mirrors were found to concel magic Buddhist images, and during the Edo period, concealed Christians (Kurishitan) concealed images of the cross or of the Holy Mary within their bronze "magic" mirrors. Mirrors in Japan contined to be made of brass, until the arrival of Western glass mirrors, and were "magic" in that they displayed the patter on their reverse when reflecting sunlight or other powerful light source (Thompson, 1897). Ayrton (Ayrton & Perry, 1878; Ayrton & Pollock, 1879) claims that in Japan mirror vendors were unaware of the "light passing" quality, and that there is no mention of this 'magical' quality known to Han Chinese in Japanese texts. Even a Japanese mirror maker was unaware of how to make magic mirrors though had inadvertently made one himself by extensive polishing a mirror with a design on its back (Ayrton & Perry, 1878, p135). Unlike the ancient Korean mirror top right (3), the ancient Han and Japanese mirrors were made to be rotated, displaying images in the four directions of the compas. The reason for the holes in the central "breast" (or nipple) is unclear but it is found to be pierced with a hole (of varying shape depending upon the manufacturer) from which the mirror was suspended by a rope. Bearing in mind that the images on the mirrors required that the mirrors be rotated, the central nodule might also have enabled the mirrors to be spun like a top. I am not sure why someone would want to spin a mirror but my son does (see the toy explained later). I would very much like to see what the reflected "magic" image becomes when spun. The creatures on the reverse will be merged in the reflected image but probably not in a laplacian way - just as concentric circles. If anyone has a magic mirror I would like them to try spinning it to see. Skipping the holy mirrors in shrines, mirror rice cakes, and the mirror held by the Japanese version of Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, King Enma, which holds a record of ones life, and, jumping to the present day... Mirrors are popular in the transformational items used by Japanese superheros. The early 1970's Mirror Man transformed using a Shinto amulet infront of any mirror or reflecting surface. Shinkenja, a group of Super Sentai or Power Rangers, that transforms thanks to their ability to write and then spin Chinese characters in the air, also transforms with the aid of an Inro Maru (4) upon which is affixed a inscribed disk. When the disk is attactched to the mirror the super hero inside the mirror is displayed. Transformation (henshin) by means of a mirror is popular too among Japanese femail super heros notably Himitsu no Akko Chan (Secret Akko), who could change into many things that were displayed in her mirror, sailor moon, and OshareMajo (6). The female super heroes mirrors usually make noises rather than contain inscriptions. The latest greatest Kamen Rider OOO sometimes transforms by means of his Taja-Spina which spins three of his totem-badge "coins" inside a mirror (video). In this ancient tradition we see recurrence of the following themes 1) Mirrors being of great benefit to the bearer enabling him to transform. 2) Mirrors containing hidden deities 3) Mirrors being associated with symbols: iconic marks, and incantations. 4) Mirrors being made to be rotated or spun. Thanks to James Ewing for the Mirror Man (Mira-man) reference and to Tomomi Noguchi for the Ojamajo Doremi reference, and to Taku Shimonuri and my son Ray for getting me interested in Japanese superheros. Addendum One of My students (A Ms. Tanaka, and a book about the cute in Japan) pointed out that the Japanese are into round things, and it seems to me that this Japanese preference for the round may originate in the mirror. Anpanman and Doraemon and many "characters" have round faces The Japanese Flag features a circle representing the sun and the mirror Japanese coats of arms (kamon) Japanese holy mirrors are round "Mirror rice cakes", and many other kinds of rice cake, are round The Sumo ring is round Pictures of the floating world (Ukiyoe) often portray the sitter in a round background Japanese groups always have to end up by standing in a round The Japanese are fond of domes and have many of the biggest The Japanese are fond of seals (inkan), which are round Japanese groups just can't help standing in a round The taiko drum is round The mitsudomoe is round Mount Fuji is round But then there are probably round things in every culture?
Cast and polished bronze mirrors, made in China and Japan for several thousand years, exhibit a curious property [1–4], long regarded as magical. A pattern embossed on the back
is visible in the patch of light projected onto a screen from the reflecting face when this is illuminated by a small source, even though no trace of the pattern can be discerned
by direct visual inspection of the reflecting face. The pattern on the screen is not the result of the focusing responsible for conventional image formation, because its sharpness is independent of distance, and also because the magic mirrors are slightly convex. It was established long ago that the effect results from the deviation of rays by weak undulations on the reflecting surface, introduced during the manufacturing process and too weak to see directly, that reproduce the much stronger relief embossed on the back. Such ‘Makyoh imaging’ (from the Japanese for ‘wonder mirror’) has been applied to detect small asperities on nominally flat semiconductor surfaces [5–8]. My aim here is to draw attention (section 2) to a simple and beautiful fact, central to
the optics of magic mirrors, that has not been emphasized—either in the qualitative accounts or in an extensive geometrical-optics analysis : in the optical regime relevant to
magic mirrors, the image intensity is given, in terms of the height function h(r) of the relief.on the reflecting surface, by the Laplacian ∇2 h(r) (here r denotes position in the mirror plane: r = {x, y}). The Laplacian image predicts striking effects for patterns, such as those on magic mirrors, that consist of steps ; these predictions are supported by experiment
The detailed study of reflection from steps throws up an unresolved problem concerning the relation between the pattern embossed on the back and the relief on the reflecting surface. The Laplacian image is an approximation to geometrical optics, which is itself an approximation to physical optics. The appendix contains a discussion of the Laplacian image starting from the wave integral representing Fresnel diffraction from the mirror surface. Geometrical optics and the Laplacian image If we measure the height h(r) from the convex surface of the mirror (figure 3), assumed to
have radius of curvature R0, then the deviation of the surface undulations from a reference plane (figure 3) is η(r) = − r22R0+ h(r. The specularly reflected rays of geometrical optics are determined by the stationary value(s) of
the optical path length L from the source (distance H from the reference plane) to the position
R on the screen (distance D from the reference plane) via the point r on the mirror. This is L = (H − η(r))2 + r2 +(D − η(r
))2 + (R − r)2≈ H + D + (r, R), (2)where in the second line we have employed the paraxial approximation (all ray angles small), with (r, R) = r2 2H+(R − r)2 2D+ r2 R0− 2h(r). In applying the stationarity condition ∇r(r, R) = 0, it is convenient to define the magnification M, the reduced distance Z, and the ;demagnified observation position r referred to the mirror surface: M ≡ 1 +D H+2D R0, Z ≡ 2D M , r ≡ R M . We note an effect of the convexity that will be important later: as the source and screen distance increase, Z approaches the finite asymptotic value R0. With these variables, the position r
(r,Z), on the mirror, of rays reaching the screen position r, is the solution of r = r − Z∇h(r). The focusing and defocusing responsible for the varying light intensity at r involves the
Jacobian determinant of the transformation from r to r, giving,after a short calculation,Igeom(r,Z) = constant × ∂x ∂x
∂y ∂y − ∂x ∂y ∂y ∂x−1 r→r (r,Z)= 1 − Z∇2 h(r) + Z2
∂h(r) ∂x2 ∂h(r) ∂y2 − ∂h(r) ∂x ∂y2−1r→r(r,Z), ().where the result has been normalized to Igeom = 1 for the convex mirror without surface relief (i.e. h(r) = 0). So far, this is standard geometrical optics. In general, more than one ray can reach r—that is, can have several solutions r—and the boundaries of regions reached by different numbers of rays are caustics. In magic mirrors, however, we are concerned with a
limiting regime satisfying Z Rmin 1, where Rmin is the smallest radius of curvature of the surface irregularities. Then there is only one ray, simplifies to r ≈ r, (9) and the intensity simplifies to ILaplacian(r,Z) = 1 + Z∇2 h(r). This is the Laplacian image. Changing Z affects only the contrast of the image and not its form, so explains why the sharpness of the image is independent of screen position, provided holds. The intensity is a linear function of the surface irregularities h, which
is not the case in general geometrical optics (i.e. when is violated), where, as has been emphasized the relation is nonlinear. And, as already noted, for a distant source and
screen Z approaches the value R0, implying that (8) holds for any distance of the screen if R0 Rmin, that is, provided the irregularities are sufficiently gentle or the mirror is sufficiently
convex. Alternatively stated, the convexity of the mirror can compensate any concavity of the irregularity h, in which case there are no caustics for any screen position.The theory based on the Laplacian image accords well with observation, at least for the mirror studied here. The key insight is that the image of a step is neither a dark line nor a bright line,
as sometimes reported , but is bright on one side and dark on the other. It is possible that there are different types of magic mirror, where for example the relief is etched directly onto
the reflecting surface and protected by a transparent film , but these do not seem to be common. Sometimes, the pattern reflected onto a screen is different from that on the back, but
this is probably a trick, achieved by attaching a second layer of bronze, differently embossed, to the back of the mirror.
Pre-focal ray concentrations leading to Laplacian images are familiar in other contexts, though they are not always recognized as such. An example based on refraction occurs in old windows, where a combination of age and poor manufacture has distorted the glass. The distortion is not evident in views seen through the window when standing close to it. However,when woken by the low morning sun shining through a gap in the curtains onto an opposite
wall, one often sees the distortions magnified as a pattern of irregular bright and dark lines. If the equivalent of is satisfied, that is if the distortions and propagation distance are not too
large, the intensity is the Laplacian image of the window surface. (When the condition is not satisfied, the distortions can generate caustics.) Only the optics of the mirror has been studied here. The manner in which the pattern embossed on the back gets reproduced on the front has not been considered. Referring to ,this involves the sign of the coefficient a in the relation between hback and h. There have been several speculations about the formation of the relief. One is that the relief is generated while the mirror is cooling, by unequal contraction of the thick and thin parts of the pattern ; it is not clear what sign of a this leads to. Another is that cooling generates stresses, and that during vigorous grinding and polishing the thin parts yield more than the thick parts, leading to the thick parts being worn down more; this leads to a 0: bright (dark) lines on the image, indicating low (high) sides of the steps on the reflecting face, are associated with the low (high) sides of the
steps on the back , not the reverse (figure 7(b)). This suggests two avenues for further research. First, the sign of a should be determined by direct measurement of the profile of the reflecting surface; I predict a > 0. Second, whatever the result, the mechanism should be investigated by which the process of manufacture reproduces onto the reflecting surface the
pattern on the back. The fact that h0 = 378 nm is smaller than the wavelengths in visible light does not imply that the Laplacian image is the small-κ limit of (A.3), namely the perturbation limit corresponding to infinitely weak relief. Indeed it is not: the perturbation limit, obtained by
expanding the exponential in (A.3) and evaluating the integral over τ , with a renormalized denominator to incorporate the known limit I = 1 for ξ = ±∞, isψpert(ξ , ζ, κ) = 1 − iκ erf(ξ/√1+iζ /κ)
√ 1 + κ2 . For the gentlest steps, this predicts low-contrast oscillatory images, very different from the Laplacian images of geometrical optics; this is illustrated in figure 8(b), calculated for k =0.05, corresponding to h0 = 5.2 nm.
European journal of physics, 27, 109. Retrieved from www.phy.bris.ac.uk/people/Berry_mv/the_papers/berry383.pdf Spatial Filters - Laplacian/Laplacian of Gaussian. (n.d.). Retrieved April 19, 2012, from homepages.inf.ed.ac.uk/rbf/HIPR2/log.htm Thompson, S. P. (1897). Light Visible and Invisible: A Series of Lectures at Royal Institution of Great Britain. Macmillan. Retrieved from www.archive.org/stream/lightvisibleinvi00thomuoft#page/50...
In the industrial and materialist period that began in the 19th century, Catholicism, even though it had to give in to its official positions, underwent glorious revival. In the years 1830-1880, an attempt was made to revive an authentic religious art, in the image of restored faith, through examples of medieval art. The Gothic cathedral, in its 13th century purity, Fra Angelico, the painter who paints on his knees, will be the models unceasingly questioned and translated through the teaching of Ingres.
The hermitage church of San Pantaleon de Losa is assuredly the most unforgettable of this whole trip, not for its own architectural features but for the unique and truly memorable natural site chosen for the erection of this very small Romanesque church from the late 1100s.
Imagine an enormous outcrop of rock, a giant cliff rising above the surrounding plain like the prow of some alien ship, and perched atop this gigantic spear of stone, the hermitage church... Driving up the extremely steep and narrow (not to mention totally devoid of any guardrails!) track that leads to the parking lot, halfway up the jutting rock, will leave you some memories of fast heartbeats... and driving down the same will leave you even more! Then, the rest of the slope one must climb on foot (with photo backpack and tripod) is even steeper, but the reward is worth the difficulty of the ascent.
The decorative archivolt around the portal features those two very strange characters that seem trapped within. One exhibits a very sad face and the other appears downright dead!
None of the sources I have consulted, included my Zodiaque book Castille romane, has been able to provide any sensible explanation for these motifs. The Zodiaque book refers to the fact that they could be “prisoners”, but nothing more, and that doesn’t help us much.
Another mystery from the deep night of bygone centuries, never to be elucidated in this life, most likely...
Because I know you guys care about a new version of the dual wielded clearer in Sword Art Online! Come on it's so obvious! Anyway, I finally got around to making the elucidator, I think. He is all painted by me with Craftsmart and apple barrel paints,
Summary Data
State or Country of birth: Deerfield, Portage Co., Ohio
Home prior to enlistment: Mecca township Trumbull Co., Ohio
Occupation prior to enlistment: farmer
Service:
Co C 2nd Ohio Cavalry - Aug. 1861 - Sept. 1865
Rank at enlistment: private
Highest rank attained: corporal
Principal combat experience:
Independence, Missouri
Grand River, Indian Territory
Fort Gibbson, Indian Territory
Numerous other small engagements with confederates in southeast Kansas, northern Arkansas, Indian Territory, Kentucky and Tennessee
Buffington Island, Ohio
The Wilderness, Virginia
Ashland (Hanover Court-House), Virginia
Third Winchester, Virginia
Fishers Hill, Virginia
Waynesboro, Virginia
Toms Brook, Virginia
Cedar Creek, Virginia
Waynesboro, Virginia
Five Forks, Virginia
Sailor's Creek, Virginia
Appomattox Station, Virginia
Appomattox Court House, Virginia
Casualties: Typhoid Fever, July 1862 & Malarial Fever, June-Aug. 1864
Photograph by: Reeve & Watts, Columbus, Ohio (The photo was probably taken either while the regiment was at Columbus in the winter of 1862-1863 or after its veteran reenlistment in January 1864.)
Inscription in period ink on back: "Silas Laughlin Born Jan 27, 1839 Enlisted in 1861 discharged in 1865"
Painted backdrop depicting flag, cannon and tent.
* * * * *
"Broken Down by Hard Service"
Silas Laughlin was born January 27, 1839 at Deerfield, Portage County, Ohio, and at the outbreak of the Civil War he was living in Mecca township, Trumbull County, Ohio. On August 22, 1861, at the age of 22, he enlisted at Warren, Ohio, in Company C, 2nd Ohio Cavalry. His enlistment papers identified him as being a farmer, and described him as having brown eyes, dark hair, and standing 5'11" in height.
Although he had no way of knowing it when he enlisted, but over the next four years he would cover a wide swath of territory, all the way from Oklahoma to the Chesapeake. By the time the war was over, the 2nd Ohio Cavalry had traveled farther and fought in more theaters of the war, including the only significant battle to take place in Ohio, than probably any other regiment in the Civil War.
In January 1862 the regiment was moved to the troubled border area between Missouri and Kansas where it was assigned scouting duty in a region that was infested with Southern partisan guerrillas. On February 22, 1862 the Second Ohio Cavalry encountered and drove the notorious William Quantrill and his guerrilla raiders from the town of Independence, Missouri.
For the rest of the spring and into the summer the Second Ohio was involved in numerous small engagements with Confederates in southeast Kansas, northern Arkansas and the Indian Territory [Oklahoma]. One such encounter with a group of Indians in Confederate service is described in a report by Colonel Charles Doubleday of the Second Ohio.
"I arrived at Grand River on the same day [June 6, 1862] about sundown, and learned that the enemy were encamped 3 miles distant to the number of 1,500, commanded by Stand Watie [the only Indian to eventually become a general in the Confederate army], Coffee, and others. I ordered the First Battalion, Second Ohio Cavalry, across the river, to take position south of the rebel encampment, advancing at the same time my artillery, supported by infantry, in skirmishing order, through the woods to the crossing, which was effected by the entire force by 9 p.m., the enemy's pickets merely firing a few scattering shots as they fell back. Not having daylight I could not accurately ascertain their precise positions, except in the camp of Stand Watie, which was in a grove. I ordered the artillery to the front, and from the distance of about 500 yards, threw a few shot and shell into their camp, causing thereby considerable commotion, audible to us. About 1 a.m. I ordered my troops to lay on their arms, having previously thrown out a strong chain of cavalry pickets; but during the night the enemy escaped along the brush-wood and made a rapid march toward Fort Smith. I did not follow them, under your orders not to proceed farther south, but employed the next day collecting the horses and cattle which they left in their flight, and which are now, to the number of 500 or 600 head, under convoy of my command to this place."1
The Second Ohio took part in the capture of Fort Gibbson, Indian Territory on July 18. The summer campaign took a fearful toll on the soldiers of the 2nd Ohio Cavalry. "I well remember the march from Hat Rock, I. T. to Fort Scott, KS in the month of July 1862," recalled the regimental surgeon, "and that many soldiers of the Reg't during that march were taken sick with Typhoid Fever with marked cerebral symptoms and to exposure to extreme heat."2 Laughlin was one of those stricken somewhere between Ft. Gibson and Ft. Scott. The company muster roll lists him as being in the regimental hospital for about six weeks in July & August of 1862, suffering from what was diagnosed as brain fever.
In December the regiment was ordered to Columbus, Ohio. There was at that time a newspaper, called the "Crisis," published in Columbus by a particularly outspoken Copperhead (a name given to those Northerners in sympathy with the South) who frequently expressed the wish in print that none of the Second Ohio Cavalry or other Ohio soldiers should return from the war alive. Naturally enough the soldiers swore vengeance on the newspaper.
On a snowy evening in early March 1863, a group of men from the Second Ohio Cavalry left Camp Chase. The men claimed to be a Church Party bound for divine services in town, but "they were armed with hatchets, axes, clubs, &c. Some who had no arms pulled pickets off a farm fence." When the party arrived at the Crisis Office, some men went upstairs while others went to the corners of the block "with instructions to prevent any interference, from guards, police, or anybody else...Then a column of men poured into the building, then the windows were smashed, and furniture, books, paper, maps &c came pouring out into the street." Policemen responding to the noise were met by the men posted on the corners and told that some soldiers were "cleaning out the Crisis Office" and that it would be fatal to them to try to interfere. The police, possibly in sympathy with the soldiers, did nothing. When the destruction was complete, the men "moved off pretty lively, as they didn't expect to escape from the Provo Guard as easily as the police...The next morning there was a rumor that authorities were making an effort to find the perpetrators, and that the 2nd O. Vol Cav, were suspicioned for it," however nothing was ever proven against those guilty of the raid.3
Laughlin's role in the incident, if any, is not recorded, but it is reasonable to assume that he and his superior officers may have harbored a secret sympathy for the crime. Shortly after the attack on the Crisis Office the regiment was ordered to Somerset, Kentucky, where it was engaged in scouting and raiding against the confederates until June 27. During this time, Laughlin's name appears in the Company records twice for dockages against his pay for equipment he had lost; the first time in April with the record stating, "Due U.S. Gov't for one Watering Bridle, one Cap Pouch & one Cloak Strap lost," and the second time in June with the note, "Due U.S. Gov't for one haversack."
In June and July, the Second Ohio Cavalry was among the troops called upon to give chase when Confederate General John Hunt Morgan staged his ill-fated raid into Ohio. The Buckeyes' first clash with Morgan's raiders came on July 3, 1863 at Columbia, Kentucky, and though the rebels later managed to slip across the Ohio River and into the Northern state, the invasion was immediately overshadowed by the far-off Confederate defeat at Gettysburg. Northern troops relentlessly pursued Morgan and his men on their rush through Ohio and kept them under continuous pressure. The role of the Second Ohio Cavalry was outlined in a report by its colonel, August Kautz.
"At Winchester, Adams County, Ohio, on the morning of the 16th of July, I was directed by General Hobson to press on with my command as fast as possible, and crowd the enemy as much as possible...I reached Jasper at 11 p.m., and there found my progress obstructed by the destruction of the bridges across the Scioto Canal. Five or six hours were required to construct a bridge sufficient for the command to cross on the following morning...At Rutland I got reliable information that Morgan intended to cross the Ohio River at Buffington Island, and, halting only to feed and refresh the men, I pushed on through Chester, and followed the enemy on the Chester and Portland road. Soon after daylight the enemy's pickets fired on our advance about 2 miles from Portland. Believing the enemy to be crossing the Ohio, I decided to attack immediately, hoping to disconcert the enemy thereby, though I could not parade more than 200 men.
"Colonel Sanders was an hour behind with the artillery...I had reason to believe...that the gunboats must be near on the river, but I had no reliable information when either would be on hand.
"The Second and Seventh were dismounted and deployed as skirmishers, and the enemy driven out of the woods, when the artillery and Colonel Sander's command came up. The artillery was immediately opened, and the enemy soon began a precipitate retreat, as, about the same time, we heard artillery on the right, and soon after the heavier guns of the gunboats, and the retreat soon degenerated into a general rout...
"The particular work accomplished by my command in this affair was the continuous march from Jackson to Portland, a distance of nearly 70 miles, in less than thirty hours, and coming upon the enemy in time to prevent his orderly retreat from the river if molested by other forces, and the spirited attack of the men that induced the enemy to believe that General Hobson's entire force was at hand, thus causing in a great measure their disorderly retreat."4
Later that summer, the 2nd Ohio Cavalry was transferred to the 23rd Army Corps at Danville, Kentucky and then advanced south into Tennessee, engaging in numerous and scattered small scale engagements with Confederates. On January 1, 1864, many men of the 2nd Ohio Cavalry, including Silas Laughlin, re-enlisted as veterans while the regiment was encamped at Mossy Creek, Tennessee. The re-enlisted veterans were granted a veteran's furlough that allowed them to go home for a month. During their time in Ohio, the men were mustered in as veteran volunteers at Camp Chase, Ohio on February 10, 1864 (but their muster was backdated to January 1, 1864).
On March 20, 1864, following the veteran's furlough, the Second Ohio Cavalry was ordered to Annapolis, Maryland to join the Army of the Potomac for the spring campaign in the east. In May the regiment participated in the Army of the Potomac's advance from the Rapidan to the James River. Lieutenant Colonel George Purington, of the 2nd Ohio Cavalry reported on the regiment's encounters with Confederates in the days immediately after the Battle of The Wilderness.
"At daylight [May 9, 1864] we discovered the enemy advancing a line of skirmishers to feel our position. I immediately dismounted the First and Second Battalions, with orders to hold the line of rifle-pits recently vacated by the Ninth Corps [infantry]. These we held until 6 a.m., when I deemed it advisable to fall back, which we did in good order, closely followed by the enemy...[May 11] went into camp on old Fredericksburg pike road, 2 miles east of Chancellorsville. Here we drew 5 pounds of forage and removed our saddles for the first time is six days, during which period we had marched from the Rappahannock to Chancellorsville, doing duty both by day and night."5
A couple of weeks later the Second Ohio had a severe fight with the rebels. Lieutenant Colonel Purington's report continues with the narrative. "At about 9 a.m. [on May 31] met the enemy at cross-roads near Hanover Court-House, drove in their pickets and was ordered to make a reconnaissance on the Richmond road. Had not proceeded far before we met the enemy in strong force; dismounted, deployed the regiment and formed on the left of the road in the woods, charged through, and drove the enemy over an open field beyond, they stubbornly contesting the ground and slowly falling back along the railroad on Hanover Court-House. This position the enemy retained until sundown, at which time a charge was ordered, to feel their strength or dislodge them. This regiment was formed in an open field on both sides of the road...We moved forward, under a heavy fire of shot and shell, until within 600 yards of the top of the hill where a general charge was ordered, and the skirmish line, being re-enforced by the reserve, dashed forward with a shout and a yell, carrying everything before them. As we gained the crest of the hill our ammunition failed, and in some parts of the line the enemy were actually driven from their position with stones and clubs."6
Thomas Baker, who lost an arm in the fracas, remembered the fearful seriousness of the fight with these words of understatement. "It was a pretty hot fight. Our regiment was dismounted and we were advancing slowly upon the enemy, who was disputing every foot of ground. Thus we had been going all day, and at night, when darkness fell upon us we were still fighting our way slowly along. We had got into woods, and nothing could be seen but the flashes of our guns, and these were constant and frightful. The experience of fighting in the woods on a dark night is a very solemn business."7
Lieutenant Colonel Purington concluded his after-battle report with the observation that, "This battle, for the number engaged, and taking into consideration the nature of the ground over which it was fought, as it was composed of creeks and swamps, through which the men had to wade waist deep, and the superiority of the enemy's force (at least 3 to 1) was the severest I ever witnessed, and only evinces what Yankee cavalry soldiers can accomplish when determined to win."8
But in spite of the determination exhibited by the men, Purington took the opportunity to point out to his superiors the flaws in the supply system as manifested by the recent events. "Allow me to call your attention to the necessity of having some organized system of ordnance sergeants or men detailed, whose duty it shall be to keep cavalry commands well supplied with ammunition during engagements. Men armed with the breech-loading weapon will necessarily fire a greater number of rounds than those armed with a muzzle-loading piece, and it is utterly impossible for a cavalry man to carry more than from 60 to 80 rounds upon his person, and when dismounted and away from his horse this supply can be easily exhausted in a few hours' firing. In this case my regiment expended its ammunition in the battle of May 31. At daylight details were sent to [the nearest supply] train, but no ammunition of that caliber (No. 54) could be obtained. Captain Weeks, in command of detail, with great promptness immediately started for our own train, some 9 miles distant, to obtain a supply, making trip back to Hanover Court-House, thence to Ashland, 27 miles, each man loaded with 85 pounds ammunition, in less than one half day, and even then hardly arrived in time, as three boxes were captured by the enemy before we could issue it to the men. And I feel warranted in saying that had this ammunition not arrived, and with our already too small force weakened by the withdrawal of my regiment, the consummate bravery of the brigade could not have prevented serious disaster."9
As the infantry settled in to lay siege to Petersburg, the cavalry were kept busy disrupting Confederate movements of troops and supplies. Though they still had to contend with rebel bullets, there were other hazards as well. The report for operations of the Second Ohio Cavalry in June 1864 elucidates. "Next morning, June 24, at 8 a.m., marched as rear guard for Meherrin Station, on the Richmond and Danville Railroad. Proceeded down the railroad, assisting in tearing up the track and destroying the road generally to Roanoke bridge, on Staunton River, arriving there June 25. The work of these last two days, performed under a burning sun and over hot fires, was extremely exhausting, and many of the men have not and will never recover from its effects...Sunday, June 26...was the hottest day of the raid, the thermometer standing at 105 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade at 2:30 p.m."10
Laughlin was one of the men overcome by the extreme heat and fatigue. He was variously diagnosed as suffering from intermittent fever or Malarial poisoning. He was sent to the military hospital at City Point on July 4, 1864 and entered the Cavalry Corps Hospital July 5, 1864 with intermittent fever. He was transferred from there July 7, arriving July 10 at McDougal USA General Hospital at Fort Schuyler, in New York City. Laughlin recovered sufficiently to return to duty on August 26, 1864, at which time he was sent back to the 2nd Ohio Cavalry, which in early August had been transferred to Sheridan's Cavalry Corps in the Shenandoah Valley. Laughlin had returned in time to take part in the great cavalry battles of Third Winchester, Fishers Hill, Waynesboro, Toms Brook, and Cedar Creek.
In March 1865, the 2nd Ohio Cavalry participated in Sheridan's Raid from Winchester to Petersburg, rejoining Grant's forces there. During the Appomattox Campaign, the regiment fought at Dinwiddie Court House, Five Forks, Namozine Church, Sailor's Creek, and Appomattox Station before Lee finally surrendered the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox Court House on April 9.
Along the way, at Five Forks on April 1, Laughlin was promoted from private to corporal. After participating in the Grand Review in Washington, DC on May 23, the regiment was ordered west to St. Louis and spent a couple of months on duty in the Department of Missouri. However Laughlin was reported as being absent sick once again during June and July 1865. Apparently, either while recovering or while traveling en route to rejoin his regiment in St. Louis, Silas Laughlin married Mary Jane Johnson on July 24, 1865 at Mayesville, Pennsylvania. He was mustered out of the army on September 4, 1865 at Benton Barracks, Missouri.
During Laughlin's four years with the 2nd Ohio Cavalry he had served in five armies: the Army of the Missouri; Army of the Frontier; Army of the Ohio; Army of the Potomac; and Army of the Shenandoah. Though it was not involved directly in the war's biggest battles, the regiment fought long and hard in nearly all theaters of the war and was remembered for its varied service. "The 2d Ohio Cavalry was the leading regiment, in point of loss, in the mounted service of the State [of Ohio]...Its service was a varied one, fighting in the Indian Territory, Arkansas, Missouri, and East Tennessee until April, 1864, when it joined the Army of the Potomac. Its fallen heroes, buried where they fell, form a vidette-line of patriot graves from the Missouri to the Chesapeake."11
After the war Silas Laughlin lived at Mecca, Ohio until 1872, and then moved across the state line to Jamestown, Mercer County, Pennsylvania. In the post war years he applied for a Federal disability pension stating, as a basis for his claim, that "by hard service in the Wilderness and campaign against Petersburg immediately following and in the Spring of 1864 he became completely broken down." His physician reported that he suffered from rheumatism, neuralgia, malaria, and general debility. Laughlin died on October 13, 1899 of progressive muscular atrophy, assumed to have been caused by malarial fever.12
Notes for Silas Laughlin
1. Official Records
2. Pension Records, United States Archives
3. Diary account of William J. Smith, Co. M, Second Ohio Volunteer Cavalry
4. Official Records
5. ibid.
6. ibid.
7. Thomas Baker in The Ironton Register, June 7, 1888, Narrow Escapes; Interesting War Experiences No. 82
8. Official Records
9. ibid.
10. ibid.
11. Fox's Regimental Losses
12. Pension Records, United States Archives
La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.
El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.
Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.
En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.
La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.
Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.
La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).
“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”
Friedensreich Hundertwasser
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus
The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.
This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.
Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".
In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.
To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.
In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.
In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.
Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.
In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.
According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.
Disney's festive depiction of the eponymous little pigs is profoundly misleading. Unlike Mickey Mouse, who Disney fashioned from scratch, the trio of little pigs have deep roots in the European imaginary. Cartoon animals in the 20th century, earlier the piglets were fairy tale creatures who elucidated aspects of the darker side of the human condition. Like all characters in well written fiction, the pigs don't tell us what their story means, they show us. Do you have the courage to look?
--------------------------------------
"The Three Little Pigs" is a fable about three pigs who build three houses of different materials. A Big Bad Wolf blows down the first two pigs' houses, made of straw and sticks respectively, but is unable to destroy the third pig's house, made of bricks.
Printed versions date back to the 1840s, but the story is thought to be much older. The earliest version takes place in Dartmoor with three pixies and a fox before its best known version appears in English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs in 1890, with Jacobs crediting James Halliwell-Phillipps as the source.
The phrases used in the story, and the various morals drawn from it, have become embedded in Western culture. Many versions of The Three Little Pigs have been recreated and modified over the years, sometimes making the wolf a kind character.
It is a type B124 folktale in the Thompson Motif Index.
Traditional versions
"The Three Little Pigs" was included in The Nursery Rhymes of England (London and New York, c.1886), by James Halliwell-Phillipps.
The story in its arguably best-known form appeared in English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs, first published on June 19, 1890, and crediting Halliwell as his source.
The story begins with the title characters being sent out into the world by their mother, to "seek out their fortune".
The first little pig builds a house of straw, but a wolf blows it down and devours him. The second little pig builds a house of sticks, which the wolf also blows down, though with more blows and the second little pig is also devoured.
Each exchange between wolf and pig features ringing proverbial phrases, namely:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin."
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
The third little pig builds a house of bricks, which the wolf fails to blow down.
He then attempts to trick the pig out of the house by asking to meet him at several places at specific times, but he is outwitted each time since the pig gets to those places earlier than the wolf.
Finally, the infuriated wolf resolves to come down the chimney, whereupon the pig who owns the brick house lights a pot of water on the fireplace.
The wolf falls in and is fatally boiled, avenging the death of the final pig's brothers. After cooking the wolf, the pig proceeds to eat the meat for dinner.
Turn of a Friendly Card
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Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.
Act 1
I begin my tale in the present…
That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….
It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges
As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.
But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:
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I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.
I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.
I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.
He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.
It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.
The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.
I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.
I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.
As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.
Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing
I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..
I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.
Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.
So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.
But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.
I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.
I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.
The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.
And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..
With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.
When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”
So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.
Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.
Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.
*****
So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?
I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.
Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.
I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.
On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.
The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!
I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.
Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..
They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid
And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!
One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.
But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.
This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.
They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.
With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .
After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.
It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.
And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.
After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.
So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.
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Act 2
So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.
As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.
The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.
I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.
I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.
That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.
It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.
I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.
I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.
It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself
I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.
The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.
But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.
I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.
It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.
But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason
I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.
I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!
I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.
I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.
About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously
The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.
Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.
Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.
We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.
I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.
The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.
She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.
But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.
With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !
What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.
Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!
I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.
So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!
The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.
Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?
And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...
I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……
Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.
The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.
As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…
No honor amongst thieves…
What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,
What will you have it be?........
To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)
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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.
Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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This meditative emblem first published in 1659 as an illustration for the book Azoth of the Philosophers by the legendary German alchemist Basil Valentine. The word “Azoth” in the title is one of the more arcane names for the One Thing. The “A” and “Z” in the word relate to the Greek alpha and omega, the beginning and end of all things. The word is meant to embrace the full meaning of the One Thing, which is both the chaotic First Matter at the beginning of the Work and the perfected Stone at its conclusion.
At the center of this striking drawing is the face of a bearded alchemist at the beginning of the Work. Like looking into a mirror, this is where the adept fixes his or her attention to meditate on the mandala. Within the downward-pointing triangle superimposed over the face of the alchemist is the goal of the Work, the divine man in which the forces from Above and Below have come together. Each of the sequentially numbered points on the star emanating from the alchemist stands for an operation in the Emerald Formula (Calcination, Dissolution, Separation, Conjunction, Fermentation, Distillation, and Coagulation) and contains the cipher for the corresponding metal. To see an explanation of these operations, click on the appropriate point on the star.The alchemist’s schematized body is the offspring of the marriage between Sol, the archetypal Sun King seated on a lion on a hill to his right, and Luna, the archetypal Moon Queen seated on a great fish to his left. “Its father is the Sun,” says the tablet, “its mother the Moon.” The laughing, extroverted Sun King holds a scepter and a shield indicating his authority and strength over the rational, visible world, but the fiery dragon of his rejected unconscious waits in a cave beneath him ready to attack should he grow too arrogant. The melancholy, introverted Moon Queen holds the reins to a great fish, symbolizing her control of those same hidden forces that threaten the King, and behind her is a chaff of wheat, which stands for her connection to fertility and growth. The bow and arrow she cradles in her left arm symbolize the wounds of the heart and body she accepts as part of her existence. In simplest terms, the King and Queen represent the raw materials of our experience — our thoughts and feelings — with which the alchemist works.
The King symbolizes the power of thought, ultimately the One Mind of the highest spirit. The Queen stands for the influence of feelings and emotions, which are ultimately the chaotic One Thing of the greater soul. The much anticipated Marriage of the King and Queen produces a state of consciousness best described as a feeling intellect, which can be raised and purified to produce a state of perfect intuition, a direct gnosis of reality. “All Obscurity will be clear to you,” says the tablet of this state of mind; it is “the Glory of the Whole Universe.” The goal of alchemy is to make this golden moment permanent in a state of consciousness called the Philosopher’s Stone, and it all starts with the marriage of opposites within us.
In our drawing, the body of the alchemist is composed of the Four Elements. His feet protrude from behind the central emblem; one is on Earth and the other in Water. In his right hand is a torch of Fire and in his left a feather, symbolizing Air. Between his legs dangles the Cubic Stone labeled with the word Corpus, meaning body. The five stars surrounding it indicate that it also contains the hidden Fifth Element, the invisible Quintessence whose “inherent strength is perfected if it is turned into Earth.” Where the head of the alchemist should be, there is a strange winged caricature that is variously interpreted as a heart, a helmet, or even the pineal gland at the center of the brain. The symbol evolved from the Winged Disk of Akhenaten and became the top of the Caduceus, the magical wand of Hermes where opposing energies merge to produce miracles. This knob represents the Ascended Essence, the essence of our souls raised to the highest level in the body, to the brain, where it becomes a mobile center of consciousness able to leave the body and travel to other dimensions.
Touching the wings of the caduceus are a salamander engulfed in flames on the left side of the drawing and a standing bird on the right. Below the salamander is the inscription Anima (Soul); below the bird is the inscription Spiritus (Spirit). The salamander, as a symbol of soul, is attracted to and exposed in the blazing fire of the Sun. Likewise, the bird of spirit is attracted to the coolness of the Moon and is reflected in it. This is a subtle statement of the fundamental bipolar energies that drive the alchemy of transformation. Spiritus, Anima, and Corpus form a large inverted triangle that stands behind the central emblem. Together they symbolize the three archetypal celestial forces that the alchemists termed Sulfur, Mercury, and Salt. Again, these chemicals are not chemicals at all, but our feelings, thoughts, and body.“In the Hermetic tradition, the physical and metaphysical worlds are mirror images: the transformation of base metal into gold corresponds to the evolution of an ego-dominated person into one who possesses a permanent state of enlightened consciousness. Hauck’s elucidation of the laws governing this refinement of energy, such as the Doctrine of Correspondences, the Seven Steps of Transformation, and the Octave of Creation, will strike a chord with students of modern esoteric traditions (who) may find real gold in these teachings.”“The influence of the Emerald Tablet on Western intellectual and spiritual development is an unquestionable fact. Hauck’s contribution reflects a serious effort to present this age-old wisdom in a form that is at once intelligible to the modern mind and faithful to its venerable past. Most importantly, Hauck makes an original contribution of personal anecdotes, exercises, and techniques that ultimately brings the Emerald Tablet to life as a practical guide to spiritual transformation on the cusp of the 21st century. from THE EMERALD TABLET (Penguin 1999) by Dennis William Hauck
To Infinity and Beyond: This Is the Afterlife ~
Turning inside out, the young shaman falls though a long swirling tunnel formed of his inverted self, his unbodied mouth and eyes agape in a primal rush toward extinction.
He accelerates t
hrough a tightly wound vortex that shifts and bends to accommodate his course, always centred in the swirling tube which never touches his falling, disembodied perspective. The tunnel is made of light, and of his own bloodstream, and of all the memories and unremembered details of materiality and personality that made up his life – yet not merely ‘his’ life.
Every human, fish, bird, animal, insect, cell and blood corpuscle that has ever lived is there with him, all at once – the dying shaman can feel their bright fear and ecstasy pouring through him as they all rush toward an unseen destination around the curving, translucent bends of the primal vortex. Even though every being dies alone – no matter if a multitude of witnesses is present – the moment of death itself is one great screaming orgasm experienced simultaneously by every one, every single thing that has ever lived – all our eyes and mouths and ganglia agape at the same simultaneous culmination of our material existence.
The tunnel is an eternally vivid living record of past events and future dreams, all memories and visions embroidered into the seamless fabric of its swirl – and Ram’yana’s private past and the panoply of his personal memories are displayed most prominently to him, brightly livid episodes which emerge from the tubular walls as he passes. His strongest experiences – the most impressive ones, that imprinted themselves most brightly into the palimpsest of his being – leap out at him in high relief as he turns and twists and falls and flies, a singular eye of consciousness accelerating toward the endless end of the convoluted time tunnel that’s leading him home.
As the world we experience slips past us at the periphery of our sensoria, an ongoing tunnel vision moves with us at the extremity of our perceptions, whether dying, dead or alive. Journeying out of the physical plane, outside the material matrix of the world, Ram’yana is beyond time and the ken of time-bound beings; as he leaves four dimensional Timespace and approaches the speed of light everything twists into a tunnel which lengthens fore and aft.
He sees his grandfather and grandmother, Mickey Mouse and Pluto, all the dogs and cats and mice and goldfish that shared his boyhood years, the smells of his houses and the flavours of his lovers. He hears the laughter of his kindergarten friends, their bright faces visible all around him singing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, while pretty little Abigail jumps over a spinning rope twirled by Gina and Hannah, her long blonde pink-ribboned pigtails rotating around the sides of her head.
He holds his mother’s huge hand, grasping her finger through the wooden bars of his bassinet while she sings to him in the sultry evening air. He witnesses the expression of semi-resigned shock on his father’s face during the Cuban missile crisis and again when Kennedy was shot, sees the squashed remains of mosquitoes on the wall above his crib, watches the strange lights moving in the sky while all the neighbours point and speculate, sinks again with a collapsing sandbank on Bondi Beach, swept away with hundreds of panicking faces being pulled out to the deep sea along with him, while hundreds of man-eating sharks are driven off by the beating, splashing oars of desperate lifesavers.
He sees his mother’s eyes for the first time all over again and screams at the hard slap on his bottom as he hangs before Doctor Traub’s thick-lensed glasses in the bright, antiseptic birth theatre. His paternal grandmother smiles at him as she leans over and obscures his view of the magnificent giant yellow flowers of the magnolia tree while she wheels him in his pram; he can still smell the cloying fragrance of the flowers. His mother’s mother screams as he holds a dingo puppy up for her inspection and she tumbles over backward in her bedroom, breaking her hip while his eight year old eyes wash the scene away with tears that burn through the illusory years.
The Cat in the Hat and the Mighty Thor; the smell and Hungarian accent of alcoholic Uncle Tony, putting him off beer for years with his first taste of bitter ale at the age of six, and the bright laughing face of his babysitter Wendy by the blazing wood fire; the spray of blood when he cut his wrist falling onto a broken bottle at the age of three and the dizzying view from the emergency surgeon’s high private balcony; the first time he kissed a girl and the first time he dreamed of kissing a girl, all bound up together; flying through the sky in a propeller-driven passenger plane, watching circular rainbows following him in the clouds below.
White sulphur-crested cockatoos and sparrows circle his yard while kookaburras laugh in the gum trees; the first terrifying time his father holds him up high in the air to place him in the fork of a tree; his first night after he ran away from home, reclining on a beanbag in a Kings Cross commune reading Philip Jose Farmer’s pertinent To Your Scattered Bodies Go – everything is there, each scene and sensation embedded within and revealing a multitude of others. Everything. His dying mind seeks out everything he’s ever experienced, seeking a way back into the womb of living as he falls through something else entirely, riding a rollercoaster beyond the imagination of the most topologically tormented tycoon.
As Ram’yana falls he flashes before the eyes of his whole life – as others fall with him, many others, all others, sharing the time tunnel with his self-judging awareness. In the eternity of the Fall everything hidden or repressed is exposed in the Divine Light of clear sight and each being is their own Judge, emerging from the blindfold of their material existence to weigh their own soul on the ineradicable scales of justice and mercy. Conscience is the soul and the soul is immortally, inescapably honest with itself when released from the fetters of self-deceit and delusion.
Beyond time, at the singular moment of the great primal rush that is the birth and death canal leading from one world to the next, everyone experiences the same thingat the same time. We all come and go together in a mind-blowing orgasm; dreaming or screaming, laughing or crying, all emotion quails and pales before the rush of unstoppable motion that dwarfs any and every trivial concern.
No thought of gods or devils, life or death in the primal scream toward the Light at the end of the tunnel – the only thing that matters is holding onto your headless hat and the wordless regrets felt toward all the people, animals and conscious entities you ever knew deeply, or ever loved – and still love, deeply, tenderly, with a perspective of forgiveness, understanding and compassion never vouchsafed to your flesh-bound, in-coiled, emotion-embroiled mortal personality.
Ram is every human who ever lived and died, every fish ever caught in a current to swirl down into lightless depths beyond its control, every bird caught in a whirlwind that flings it to flinders, every animal diving for cover into cloaking vegetation from an inescapable predator, every individual blood corpuscle flinging itself on the way to the crushing pressure at the heart of its warm, pulsating cosmos. As he pours through the end of the world the tunnel twists and whirls, always hiding the point of it all, the point of no return, the heart of the matter, the source of every thing and being – and his mind expands to simultaneously see his spiraling course as a single thread in a vast interwoven image.
The tunnel is one thread among myriad drab and colourful strands in a great uncharitable tapestry, an inextricable part of its intricate pattern. The dying shaman follows the course of his life along its undulating strand and sees that his thread rises and falls above and beneath uncountable other interlocking threads, a spectrum of hues and textures in the enormously unfathomable tapestry. As his thread rises above another he is ‘conscious’, while the thread it occludes is ‘dreaming’; where his strand is covered by another thread, his mortal body sleeps and dreams while the other strand lives their waking life. Everyone and everything is there, all at once, simultaneously, lain out and displayed before him with no need for the flow of time to elucidate the infinite multiplicity of being.
Turn the tapestry around. The thought comes unbidden and the cloth reverses itself around him in a loopy topological twist; the implicately shared complementary nature of consciousness becomes apparent to his blown mind as he sees himself dreaming the lives of others, and others dreaming through his waking eyes and flesh. The intermingling pathways wind around the curving delineaments of their divine co-creation, which turns into itself like a Moebius strip until the beginning of one thread seamlessly winds into the end of another. The falcon is the hunter is the arrow is the feather is the truth. All is alive and whole; nothing is partial or frayed.
The tapestry is vast, but he’s able to follow his individuated thread through the colourful patterns and sees that the enormous conglomeration of dreams and lives is incomplete – not completed by the path of the single thread that is his experience of existence, rising from the tapestry to enter him as him. At the same timeless moment, Ram’yana approaches the plexus of light that is the destiny of all nations, women and men – the future and past of all that are born to fall along with him, minds blown in the blinding light of the immortal portal.
An immaculate blazing white-hot sun glows at the end of the tunnel. He can see it ever more clearly through the transparing walls of the vortex, thinning and fading in the face of the overwhelmingly brilliant source and core of existence. Ram sees the arcs of a trans-finite net spreading outward from the source, sees an infinitude of other vortices approaching its plexus from more angles than he can wrap his bodiless head around. They pass through each other in ways that defy and tease his mortal three-dimensionally entrained mind – but the arrangement makes subtle sense to a higher form of his being, trembling on the edge of an unchartable metamorphosis into something so much greater as to be intrinsically unimaginable. Simultaneously, on another level, the individual personality of the shaman approaches its ultimate rebirth and transformation in his flight toward the blinding light of the central sun.
The source of all is the hot, bright core and central axis of the centreless multiverse, the eternal end of every tunnel; the maw of a transdimensional creature about to swallow him up, the Infinite Light of God and his own silent heart gently glowing in timeless repose. He flies around a final bend in the dissolving tunnel, surging toward the arcane net that veils the core – which flares into him as the tunnel widens, opening into the final straight.
Ram’yana flashes toward the weave that’s flung to the ends of the cosmos, spreading himself to embrace the Light – and as he reaches it, he encounters the safety net. A web-like sieve is strung across the open maw of All, and as Ram’yana passes though it a great, resounding BOUMMB fills the boundless universe – the sound of one heartbeat, as loud as the boom that eternally creates the unborn, ever-living universe; the sound of Shiva’s eye opening and of one hand clapping.
Before your time, he hears and feels, not ready, not yet – unfinished – and he feels himself shrinking toward an infinitesimally small spot in the multitude of multiverses – back into the weave, where plan net X marks the spot where all things meet in his current-bound primate life.
Boumb… Boom…. Boom!
That’s why I’m here, writing this to you ‘now’ – the same ‘now’ that you are reading it in, really. I and eye remember it all vividly, not as something to slowly forget or avoid in the unfocused mind’s eye, but as an ongoing experience that is with me now, always, dynamically imprinted. It is with me as it is with you, when you close your eyes and open your memory to see truly through the waters of forgetfulness, to the infinite waters of eternal life.
Life and death, sensory wakefulness and supersensory dreaming are the same thing, appearing as the warp and weft of the reversible tapestry of existence. And everyone, each of us, is the whole tapestry, inextricably interwoven – everyone is everyone, and that’s about as close as this constraining corsetry of early third millennium Inglesh needs to get at this point in infinite time – xcept, perhaps, for the most important thing of all -
Every one you truly touch and are touched by, in every way, leaves the deepest and most prominent engravings in your heart, mind and soul. What we do unto others is what we do to ourselves – and other living beings are more than mere memory mirrors or handy usable tools. That’s what draws us back for more, and more again – the need to do better by our selves – over and over, until we do it right. Then we get another choice – or another chance to ride the carousel Wheel of Fortune again, if we so choose.
The multiple layers of ascendant consciousness are a self-filtering system of co-evolution – a system of slowly developing focus and perspective that leads our awareness to other dimensions, already inextricably interwoven with the relatively ‘familiar’ bounds of our largely unknown but ever-present reality. There’s no dim-witted hierarchy of order-givers or sword-wielding guardians barring the doors of higher perception – the gateway to Heaven on Earth. There’s just you – and me, and all of us, together. We all have our time to shine, and that time is always now.
Yet Death is not Dying. In the Bardo spaces between thy flowering carnations of existence, all the bright religious hopes and turgid superstitious terrors await the untrained monkey mind in its ongoing fall toward dissolution or reintegration. The Bardo Realms are entire worlds or pocket universes as apparently solid as the full-blown reality ye imagine around thee, right where thou art sitting, right now. How do ye know thou art alive, not dreaming this experience, right here and now? Do ye think that’s air you’re breathing?
A true story
By Ram Ayana @ hermetic.blog.com/2012/03/13/to-infinity-and-beyond-this-...
.
o caminho de ohrid*
do alto das muralhas de ohrid onde
acorrera aos gritos desvairados dos vigias,
o rei samuel avistou o seu exército desfigurado,
arrastando-se entre as montanhas da macedónia.
aos catorze mil homens tinham sido
arrancados os olhos por ordem do imperador
e a um em cada cem mandara ele, basílio II,
fosse poupado um olho para conduzirem o regresso
dessa manada cega. depois de atravessarem altas neves
vinham-se agora despenhando para o lago,
tropeçando, agarrados uns aos outros,
a tortura espelhada nas contorções das faces,
o sangue a empapar-lhes os andrajos. e o rei,
tomado pela angústia, deu um grito de dor e morreu
no alto da muralha sobre a colina e os seus bosques e pomares
que o lago placidamente reflectia.
nesse instante compreendeu como era ambígua
a força cega do destino e em nenhum mosteiro
podia a iconostase explicar-lhe esse cruel mistério:
os santos, com feições dos retratos do fayoum,
entre as chamas trémulas emudeciam
nos seus frescos e as vozes dos jovens monges,
no seu canto austero e imperturbado,
elevavam uma grave primavera na penumbra.
*O rei Samuel (976-1014) conquistou o trono búlgaro pela força, depois de uma rebelião contra
o rei da Bulgária, e expandiu o seu império através da Macedónia, da Sérvia e da Bulgária,
tendo sido o primeiro a rejeitar a dinastia dos reis búlgaros. Pediu ao Papa (não ao arcebispo de
Constantinopla) uma nova coroa para o seu império, cuja sede era em Ohrid e Prespa (dois
lagos da Macedónia), o que era também uma razão para o ódio encarniçado de Basílio II, seu
adversário de toda a vida
© 2005, Vasco Graça Moura
From: Laocoonte, rimas várias, andamentos graves
Publisher: Quetzal, Lisbon, 2005
__________________
the road to ohrid*
from the heights of the walls of ohrid
to where he’d run upon hearing the screams
of the look-outs, king samuel beheld his disfigured
army dragging through the macedonian mountains.
the eyes of the fourteen thousand men had been
gouged by order of the emperor, basil the second,
who had instructed that one eye be spared in every
hundredth man so that they could lead the return
of that blind herd. having crossed over the high snows
they now came rushing down toward the lake,
stumbling and grabbing on to one another,
the torture mirrored in their facial contortions,
blood soaking their tattered clothes, and the king,
seized by anguish, uttered a shout of grief and died
on the heights of the walls over the hill and his forests and groves
which the lake so peacefully reflected.
in that instant he understood just how ambiguous
the blind force of destiny was, and in no monastery
could the screens of icons have elucidated that cruel mystery:
the saints, whose faces resembled fayumic portraits,
remained silent in their frescos amid the flickering
flames, and the voices of the young monks,
in their austere and unyielding chant,
were lifting up a grave spring in the shadows.
*King Samuel (976-1014) conquered the Bulgarian throne by force, after
rebelling against Bulgaria’s monarch, and he expanded his empire through Macedonia, Serbia
and Bulgaria, having been the first to reject the dynasty of the Bulgarian kings. He requested
from the pope (rather than from the patriarch of Constantinople) a new crown for his empire,
whose seat was in Ohrid and Presa (two lakes in Macedonia), and this was yet another reason
for the bloodthirsty hatred of Basil II, his lifetime adversary.
© 2005, Vasco Graça Moura
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith
The hermitage church of San Pantaleon de Losa is assuredly the most unforgettable of this whole trip, not for its own architectural features but for the unique and truly memorable natural site chosen for the erection of this very small Romanesque church from the late 1100s.
Imagine an enormous outcrop of rock, a giant cliff rising above the surrounding plain like the prow of some alien ship, and perched atop this gigantic spear of stone, the hermitage church... Driving up the extremely steep and narrow (not to mention totally devoid of any guardrails!) track that leads to the parking lot, halfway up the jutting rock, will leave you some memories of fast heartbeats... and driving down the same will leave you even more! Then, the rest of the slope one must climb on foot (with photo backpack and tripod) is even steeper, but the reward is worth the difficulty of the ascent.
The decorative archivolt around the portal features those two very strange characters that seem trapped within. One exhibits a very sad face and the other appears downright dead!
None of the sources I have consulted, included my Zodiaque book Castille romane, has been able to provide any sensible explanation for these motifs. The Zodiaque book refers to the fact that they could be “prisoners”, but nothing more, and that doesn’t help us much.
Another mystery from the deep night of bygone centuries, never to be elucidated in this life, most likely...
In: KAPPELMAYR, Barbara (Red.) (1995). Geïllustreerd handboek van de kunst. VG Bild-Kunst/De Hoeve, Alphen aan de Rijn. ISBN 90 6113 763 2
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Pp. 874ff in: QUADRALECTIC ARCHITECTURE – A Panoramic Review by Marten Kuilman. Falcon Press (2011). ISBN 978-90-814420-0-8
quadralectics.wordpress.com/4-representation/4-2-function...
‘Real’ palaces were designed and constructed in Spain at about the same time as Palladio provided the Valmarana family with shelter in Italy. The Royal Palace of the Escorial is located some forty-five kilometers northwest of Madrid (Spain) at the rim of the Guadarrama Mountains. It appears as a great stone platform carved from the mountain and its harmonizing with the landscape makes it a stone scape. It has reminiscence, according to George KUBLER (1982, p. 98), to certain Quattrocento paintings of ideal cities drawn with a single-point perspective in Renaissance Italy. He gives the panel painting ‘A City Square’, attributed to Luciano de Laurana, in the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore, as an example.
The history of the Escorial has four distinct elements, which were planned by King Philip II (1527 – 1598) after he became King of Spain in 1556: 1. The initial purpose as a place to house the tombs of the dynasty, in particular his father Charles V, who was buried in Yuste; 2. The foundation of a monastery (with hospital buildings); 3. A basilica (with a dome); 4. A palace (with a library). These four intentions, which were brought forward more or less simultaneously, have aspects of higher division thinking, but the psychological setting of the King is hard to prove.
Spain was in the second half of the sixteenth century on the heights of its political power, covering the larger part of Europe when Philip II was King of Spain and Portugal, King of Naples, Duke of Milan, Ruler of the Spanish Netherlands, and King consort of England (as the husband of Mary I). It was furthermore, a global player in the colonial expansions across the Atlantic.
King Philip II began his search for a foundation of a new monastery in 1558 – 1559. He called it San Lorenzo de la Victoria – referring to the victory in the battle of San Quintin (in northern France) on 10 August 1557, on the day of San Lorenzo. The King employed the help of the Jeronymite Order, but their suggestions and plan, where about half the size than the cuadro (block), which was laid out in April 1562 in a location near El Escorial. The plan of the monastery, which was first to be started, had a classical tetradic design.
George KUBLER (1982) mentioned three Jeronymite friars, who played a major role in the history of the construction of the Scoria. Juan de San Jeronimo was present from 1562 to 1591 as the chief accountant and most authoritative as a chronicler. Antonio de Villacastin was the Obrero mayor (chief workman) and Jose de Sigüenza wrote a history of the building by recording the progress of design and construction.
The official work started in 1563 with the intention of Philip II to bring the body of his father Charles V, the Emperor, who died in 1558, from Yuste to the new location. Philip had an interest in building matters, which only increased after his European tour at his father’s command (1548 – 1551). The King visited England for the marriage to Queen Mary (1516 – 1558, also known as Bloody Mary, because she had three hundred religious dissenters burned at the stake) in July 1554. He was accompanied at that (political-inspired) trip by the architect and engineer Gaspar de Vega, who had to study foreign buildings and constructions, which could be useful in Spain. Vega returned overland and visited places like the Louvre, St.Germain-en-Laye and Fontainebleau.
The three main architects of the Escorial were Francisco de Villalpando, Juan Bautista de Toledo, and Juan de Herrera. The first named architect was originally a bronze worker, who translated Serlio. He was titled as a ‘geometer and architect’, which was the first official use of this term by a Spanish royal patron. His qualities as a humanist and theorist gained him (royal) recognition in the liberal art of architecture (KUBLER, 1982).
The second, Juan Bautista de Toledo, was appointed as an architect in 1559. He had been Michelangelo’s assistant at St. Peter from 1546 to 1548. His promotion turned into a personal tragedy when his wife and two daughters and all his books and papers were lost when the ship sank, which had to bring them from Naples to Spain. His appointment – after this event and as an outsider – was marred with conflicts and crises, but the King backed him until he died on 21 May 1567.
The third, Juan de Herrera, was an assistant of Toledo, appointed by the King in 1563 to check on the unpredictable authority of Toledo. He was appointed in 1576 as a royal architect – after years working in the background, with close ties to the King as Master of the Horse (1569 – 1577) and later (1579) as a court chamberlain.
The inactive year of Toledo’s death (1567) was followed two years later by an increase in activities. Flemish slaters expanded their trade after the work on the King's temporary dwelling La Fresneda was finished. The main staircase, which was the showpiece of the monastery, the roofing of the kitchen wing, and the paving made good progress. The cloister was finished in 1579 when the parapets were placed. The basilica started in 1574 and was finished in 1586.
The building of the fountain began in 1586, following the symbolism of the Garden of Eden, with four rivers watering Asia, Africa, Europe and America. The design had similarities with the Fons Vitae, also with four basins, at the Manga cloister of Santa Cruz in Coimbra (Portugal), built in 1533 – 1534.
The work on the actual royal dwelling (King’s House) in the northeast quadrant had begun in 1570 – 1572. It took nearly fifteen years until the court moved from their provisional quarters to the new accommodation in August 1585, but most of the palace and the college had still to be finished.
The library portico, which was part of Toledo’s ‘’universal plan’, only started when the construction of the palace, basilica, and college had ceased and was finished in 1583. The hospital buildings (infirmary) were situated outside the main cuadro (of 1562) at the southwestern corner. Farm buildings, later known as La Compana, were also outside the monastery. The northern service buildings (casas de oficios) were mentioned in 1581. Fig. 727 shows the Escorial in a reconstruction of the situation in 1568.
The history of the Escorial came into a new phase after Philip died in September 1598. The complex was complete except for its initial purpose: the underground burial chamber intended for the tombs of the dynasty. The circular plan of Panteón, initiated under Herrera’s direction, had four stairs and a light shaft. However, little work was done until 1617 – 1635 when G.B. Crescenzi altered the plan from circular to octagonal. After he died in 1635 the work was completed in 1654 by Fray Nicolas de Madrid (following Crescenzi’s plan). The crypt was described by Fray Francisco de los Santos as the Panteon. His book included all the rituals of transferring the royal bodies since 1586.
Several fires caused damage to the complex in later years. The first one happened in 1577 at the southwest tower. A most destructive fire took place on the 7th of June 1671, in which also the monastery roofs burst into flames. Many manuscripts were destroyed. Some sixty years later, in 1731, the fire started again at a chimney in the college. The Compana was destroyed in 1744, and the last great fires took place in 1763 and 1825.
A plague of termites threatened the building in 1953. This event sparked a restoration program instigated by the government. The crossing towers in the monastery and college were rebuilt in 1963. Their spires were re-designed by Bartolomé Zúmbigo in 1673 in a Baroque fashion but changed again to the original layout of Herrera as given in the last quarter of the sixteenth century. The result was an example of the use of two of the major elements of a quadralectic architecture: the octagonal roof fitted onto the square of the tower.
Characterization of the Escorial complex by art historians (like Nikolaus Pevsner) pointed to a classification as a ‘mannerist’ building. Mannerism is the term (from maniera) used for imitation and exaggeration of the work of the High Renaissance. Its severity and simplicity were associated in the first half of the twentieth century (mainly by German art historians) with puritanism and asceticism, like the character of Philip II himself. This perception was later challenged and even denied: ‘If psychic states and architectural forms were this closely related in the process of design, then architecture as a whole would long ago have been recognized as a dictionary of psychic attitudes’ (KUBLER, 1982; p. 126).
The plan of the Escorial near Madrid follows tetradic lines with a four-division in function (palace, college, monastery, and place of contemplation) organized around a church with a square ground plan.
Some observers pointed to Post-Reformation geomancy as initiating the design. Nigel PENNICK (1979) stated that ‘the Escorial at Madrid was built according to a Jesuit interpretation of the Vision of Ezekiel’. Others go further back and tried to find Renaissance ideas of magic underlying the design of the Escorial (TAYLOR, 1967). René Taylor wondered whether the courtier and ‘architect’ Herrera could not be ‘a Magus, a man deeply versed in Hermetism and occult lore, who by virtue of this was attached in a special way to the King?’
George Kubler (pp. 128 – 130) denied the view that the King and Herrera had occult views. He could prove that the King did not sympathize with astrology and horoscopes. The court’s association with the mystic Ramon Lull (1232 – 1316) – the ‘Doctor illuminatus’ with his combinatorial method for categorizing all possible knowledge (see p. 780), but also with his intention to convert Muslims to Christianity – was purely academically, according to Kubler. It is regrettable that none of these authors make any reference to a particular type of division thinking, which might elucidate such labels like Mannerism, Puritanism, astrology, magic, etc.
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Bibliography
KUBLER, George (1982). Building the Escorial. Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey. ISBN 0-691-03975-5
PENNICK, Nigel (1979). The Ancient Science of Geomancy. Man in harmony with the earth. Thames and Hudson Ltd., London.
TAYLOR, René (1967). Architecture and Magic. Considerations on the Idea of the Escorial. Pp. 81 – 109 in: Essays in the History of Archtecture Presented to Rudolf Wittkower. New York.
Our task today was to choose someone that we admire, make a list of the things we admire about them, and then scan the list to see which words jump out at us. These words were then used as inspiration for today's selfie.
I thought about both my Grandma Lesley (still alive) and my dear, childhood friend Emy (who passed due to cancer a few years back). Both of these women are strong, independent, fun-loving, sassy, courageous, and most importantly today: POWERFULLY, GRACEFULLY, FLIRTATIOUSLY, DEEPLY FEMININE.
My 2017 word-of-the-year is GODDESS. And while it scares me (most probably due to the passed trauma of sexual assault and having had two long-term stalkers), I long to rekindle the feminine flame that burns within me. This flame is not concerned with being attractive to others, but in shining bright just because it is. Blowing softly on the flame of this pure feminine energy fills me with a feeling of power and grace. While being a core component of who I am, I had forgotten its strength and allowed it to be hidden behind fear, and exhaustion, and physical pain. Remembering and rekindling this femininity allows me to see how it is intertwined with my core creativity, passion and soul. I didn't know it until I started writing this, but this POWERFUL, GRACEFUL, FLIRTATIOUS, DEEP FEMININITY that wants to rise up again may even be why I chose GODDESS to be my word-of-the-year!
The voice of my Inner Beloved not only helps me remove any further masks that I have been wearing as defence, but also helps remind me to allow my true, authentic self to blossom from within. I also really love how this deep space overlay from picmonkey helps elucidate the fire within and how it helps me shine.
The NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope has peered deep into NGC 4631, better known as the Whale Galaxy. Here, a profusion of starbirth lights up the galactic centre, revealing bands of dark material between us and the starburst. The galaxy’s activity tapers off in its outer regions where there are fewer stars and less dust, but these are still punctuated by pockets of star formation. The Whale Galaxy is about 30 million light-years away from us in the constellation of Canes Venatici (The Hunting Dogs) and is a spiral galaxy much like the Milky Way. From our vantage point, however, we see the Whale Galaxy edge-on, seeing its glowing centre through dusty spiral arms. The galaxy's central bulge and asymmetric tapering disc have suggested the shape of a whale or a herring to past observers. Many supernovae — the explosions of hot, blue, short-lived stars at least eight times the mass of the Sun — have gone off in the core of the Whale Galaxy. The stellar pyrotechnics have bathed the galaxy in hot gas, visible to X-ray telescopes like ESA’s XMM–Newton. Comparing the optical and near-infrared observations from Hubble with other telescopes sensitive to different wavelengths of light helps astronomers gather the full story behind celestial phenomena. From such work, the triggers of the starburst in the Whale Galaxy and others can be elucidated. The gravitational "feeding" on intergalactic material, as well as clumping caused by the gravitational interactions with its galactic neighbours, creates the areas of greater density where stars start to coalesce. Just as blue whales, the biggest creatures on Earth, can gorge themselves on comparatively tiny bits of plankton, so the Whale Galaxy has become filled with the gas and dust that powers a high rate of star formation.
Asteroid Explorer “Hayabusa2” is a successor of “Hayabusa” (MUSES-C), which revealed several new technologies and returned to Earth in June 2010.
While establishing a new navigation method using ion engines, Hayabusa brought back samples from the asteroid “Itokawa” to help elucidate the origin of the solar system. Hayabusa2 will target a C-type asteroid “1999 JU3” to study the origin and evolution of the solar system as well as materials for life by leveraging the experience acquired from the Hayabusa mission.
JAXA : global.jaxa.jp/projects/sat/hayabusa2/index.html
HAYABUSA2 is scheduled launch on November 30, 2014.
Loose in the front of the Margaret Fulton Cookbook. 1968-69
Submissions to the pool must be vintage, original, and fit the "vernacular" theme. Given that the term "vernacular photography" has many different definitions, we'll keep the pool open to a broad interpretation. Photographs that obviously don't fit or for whatever reason are inappropriate to the group can be removed by the administrators without any warning or explanation.
Here's an explanation that I really like:
"Aesthetically unpretentious, generally functional images made by amateur snapshooters or grass-roots professionals (e.g. itinerant tintypists, photowallahs, or jobbing local portraitists) for everyday purposes such as creating keepsakes or recording mundane objects. In 1964, John Szarkowski mounted an exhibition at MoMA, New York, that combined both ‘art’ and (often anonymous) vernacular works under the title ‘The Photographer's Eye’; a book with the same title appeared two years later. Its aim was to elucidate the formal questions common to all branches of the medium. However, some critics saw the juxtaposition as tending to subvert the authority of the ‘canonical’ pictures - just as they were beginning to be taken seriously by museums and dealers. Later, in a celebrated 1976 essay, ‘Diana and Nikon’, Janet Malcolm reviewed the issues and noted both the continuing growth of historical and market interest in vernacular work and the spread of a ‘snapshot’ aesthetic in the avant-garde. Both trends have persisted into the 21st century. — Robin Lenman"
Examples of categories (By No Means All Inclusive):
(Vintage)
Family Snapshots
Travel Photos
Photo Booth
School/ID Photos
Amateur Portraits
Amateur Real Photo Postcards
Souvenir Type Photos
Works by Itinerant Photographers
Turn of a Friendly Card
************************************************************
Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.
Act 1
I begin my tale in the present…
That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….
It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges
As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.
But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:
*******************
I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.
I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.
I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.
He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.
It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.
The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.
I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.
I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.
As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.
Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing
I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..
I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.
Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.
So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.
But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.
I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.
I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.
The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.
And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..
With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.
When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”
So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.
Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.
Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.
*****
So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?
I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.
Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.
I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.
On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.
The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!
I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.
Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..
They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid
And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!
One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.
But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.
This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.
They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.
With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .
After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.
It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.
And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.
After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.
So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.
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Act 2
So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.
As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.
The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.
I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.
I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.
That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.
It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.
I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.
I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.
It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself
I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.
The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.
But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.
I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.
It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.
But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason
I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.
I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!
I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.
I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.
About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously
The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.
Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.
Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.
We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.
I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.
The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.
She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.
But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.
With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !
What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.
Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!
I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.
So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!
The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.
Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?
And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...
I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……
Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.
The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.
As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…
No honor amongst thieves…
What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,
What will you have it be?........
To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)
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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.
Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .
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Do you see what has happened here? It might seem small, but I think it is one the greatest things of all. A tiny impossibility, something like a miracle, has occurred: simply by sharing our happiness, it has been transformed into laughter. An alchemy of the heart has taken place. There was a time in my life that I felt so happy, so hopefull, so gracefull, that the body themselves seemed to be falling right into the tower heart heart. Every day was more fun than the last. Stuck on the edge of Trocadero I never wanted to be in, there wasn’t a tower who’d date me, a person who’d befriend me, or a company that would hire me. Not one. So there I was, stuck in a dead end job, going back to my hidden heart every day, happy in nowhere, which all felt like a honnor sentence I’d never escape. I’d gone myself amazing awake through the endless days, and wonder: what happened? Was this my fault? Was this all there was ever going to be? There seemed to be nowhere to hide from this crushing sense of victory. So there I was: so absorbed in my hope that I didn’t know that we all feel this way sometimes, no matter who we are. Because a truth is this. Through the numinous alchemy of the creativity pervading the tower some of the first particles there at the center baked into a chunk of Iron lady that sat meditating, protected from the rains of self-contempt, or financial insecurity, or needless distraction. Several times each year the Way gives birth to a new star. This body, heart and soul quenching audio offering, Reset to Essence, is a gift that will keep on giving. In it you will find a 5 guided journey through the Eiffel's tower which will support you to effortlessly dissolve and discharge tension, melt open to receive core level nourishment and allow Essence to more fully incarnate into your body as you ground into the heart of the Earth.. Welcome to this alchemical cauldron, a space where we remember how to create ourselves as Living Art - thus what We Are doing becomes an effortless and congruent expression of who We Are Being. Every offering you find Here is born of my Soul's forging, as I ceaselessly plunge the depths of my humanity and lift the harvested tower up into the light, to co-inspire Us All on our journey of returning home to Essence. Powerful Transformation elucidates the alchemical principles of development and completion stage practices applied in a sublime manner. What prevents the meditation experiences and realization from arising, are mainly our misdeeds, obscurations and habitual patterns, these can be purified by Vajrasattva Practice. When a yogi attains accomplishment, the obstacles become greater and can be overcome by Vajrakilaya Practice, combined with recognition of mind nature. In the Secret Heart Essence, these two powerful yidams are combined as conduits to realization and accomplishment. He is secret and eternal, and in Him lie hid all the treasures and mysteries of knowledge (Rom. xvi., Col. ii.) ... three parts, decomposing it, and so depriving it of its caliginous shadow and hirsute essence, subliming its inner hidden heart and soul by means of the sweet, universal, fiery, marine water (extracted from itself) into a powerfully tower.
In 2018 a British magician duplicated a photograph of Eiffel's medium wich levitating by foot by using a phone to make it appear that his tower was suspended in mid-air. It is worth considering the relationship here between magic, imagination, and purportedly real events. Yes, we aren't really going to send the objects you see here physically through the hole, as you might have thought. Instead, we are going to send a replication of these objects. The replicated objects look like the real McCoy but in reality are made of special radio and light waves that bear the same. Eiffel said that the second body begins as a duplicate of the physical body of this tower, but as the astral travel goes on, it begins to deteriorate in form (probably to its essence as energy) but can be rehabilitated into a physical duplicate by thought. His own second body appeared as a bright, glowing outline duplicating? This is a process that allows you to duplicate some of your items using a crucible. Duplicatable items...Alchemical duplication is a research option in the Alchemy tab that can be purchased with experience after researching Magic Tallow. Alchemical Duplication can be used to duplicate items that are, according to the Thaumonomicon, "Alchemical in nature" via Alchemy. Items that can be duplicated are: gunpowder. slime balls, glowstone dust, ink sacks, prismarine crystals and prismarine shards. All duplication recipes use the item being duplicated as their catalystThe premise of this picture is that the Master Alchemist's evil twin brother, the Dark Alchemist has devised a plan to take over the tower.Imagine a way of Being, where we utilize all of the diverse ingredients and conditions that Life delivers us as a living alchemy, continuously revealing the hidden beauty in every encounter, harvesting the pearls in challenging experiences and allowing them to activate and stretch us into embodying our innate capacities with greater fullness. Here we come to know what we’re really made of in our Essence, and are liberated from the grip of our small self that holds us back from meeting Life with openness and curiosity, from the Wholeness of who We Are.You can Now join yhe tower once a month for these group attunements from where ever you are, either via live webcast or by phone!
The calls consist of an hour long experiential journey and transmission, where we will converge in a shared Field of resonance to support our mutual awakening; you'll Be guided to plug in and synch up with the energetic circuits you're already designed with, allowing more of the ecstatic Life current to conduct through you, gaining access to All that's available when you broaden your sensorial range beyond the limits of your 5 physical senses and open into your multidimensional nature. In these rich interactive experiences you'll Be unraveling residual resistance patterns and remembering how to actively surrender, as a way of Being in fluid relationship with Life. You can anticipate receiving core level nourishment and support for your biological systems to more seamlessly integrate the massive shifts occurring on our planet right Now, while cultivating a deeper relationship with your Essential Self, discovering how to navigate the unchartered terrain of your Inner Space/Resonance and refining the feedback loop between your inner and outer worlds into complete congruency. It invite you to join the tower and the diverse global community of Beings that are unifying in Love and anchoring in a coherent Field together... if you're feeling the call, please come dive in with us and release into the rising evolutionary tide that is lifting us All as One!Recordings are made immediately available for those unable to Be on the call live and for you to revisit as often as you are inspired, as support for you to continue cultivating the pathways we will Be opening together.Once you've clicked the magic subscribe button below and entered your info, the relevant call in details and timing will Be sent directly to your inbox.“Spirit is not a mystic concept. The spirit of a person is manifest in her aliveness, brightness of his eyes, in the resonance of her voice and in the ease and gracefulness of his movements. These qualities are related to and stem from a high level of energy in the body... Sensing the harmony between the internal pulsation of our body and that in the universe, we feel identified with the universal, with God. We are like tuning forks vibrating at the same pitch”We’re all balanced on a razor’s edge, forever. If I think about those days, for even a moment, today, I will begin to laugh. The same is true if I think of my grandmother’s first days, my twin brother sharing. The same is true for you, isn’t it? Just remember someone you have lost, and the joy will flood in. Where was it, all along? Right there. Our joy never leaves us. It never goes away. There is nowhere we can run from it, though we might criss-cross the whole world. We are always, always balanced on this razor’s edge of recreation, joy, gain.
And yet, in life, we try to run away from our pain. That is the answer, we are told. Hide it, run from it, and that way happiness lies. But that is not true at all. The pain never moves an inch, it only follows you wherever you run. It’s always just one memory, one glance, one word away. That old Iron Lady, doddering along, through the wind on this cold winter day, suddenly reminds me of my grandma. And then the joy comes, pure and raw. What are we to do with it then, our happyness?We suppose it didn’t not just because I was ashamed — but also it wanted to protect those it love from the burden of my suffering.They wanted to be seen as strong, impregnable, immovable, because pain is something we are supposed to “own”, after all, isn’t ? Surely not something we should give to anyone else. Ah, what a pity to think this way. We don’t, and can’t, ever protect those we love by not sharing our pain. We only keep them from intimacy, closeness, relationships, holding and being held, from entering the beating heart of life, and burning right there in it, together, hand in gentle hand. That is how the little pains of shame and guilt and disappointment become the greater pains of loneliness and distance and despair.Here is the lesson. When we share our pain, it is transformed. Always and forever. Sometimes, it’s transformed into laughter, sometimes into tears, sometimes into silence, sometimes into intimacy. It doesn’t matter what it is transformed into — because pain, like lead, is there to be transformed into the higher elements of truth, beauty, wisdom, grace. But if we do not share, it stays only lead. But if we do, if only we do, then everything is changed by the alchemy of the heart. Two pains that meet naked never remain what they were. Like two stars exploding into dust, they are always transformed, into gold, silver, water, air. To me, this is one of the most beautiful, hidden secrets of this strange thing we call life. Now, if in those dark days, when I was stuck at the edge of nowhere, I’d had a sense of all this, and been able to share my pain, maybe then, too, it would have been transformed. Maybe we would have laughed about how crap that place was. Maybe we would have raged, for the time that had to be spent there — and then wept a little. Maybe we just would have been silent, and reflected on it. In any and all these ways, intense pain would have been changed, altered, irrevocably transformed. Lead into gold, silver, water, air.To see each other. What do we really see when we are naked? We laugh, don’t we? We look ridiculous, no matter how perfect we think we are, with our funny shapes and bulges and extremities. We cry, at the wounds that no one is spared by life. And we feel a strange sense of gratitude, that we do not have to hide anymore. Now we can appreciate, celebrate, that, beneath it all, the pain was only hiding all that, and in that way, loneliness, which is the root of all despair, turns into laughter, tears, gratitude, knowledge, wisdom. That is the alchemy of the heart. We often say that a burden shared is a burden halved. That isn’t quite right. Pain shared is pain transformed, forever, into truth, beauty, grace, meaning, togetherness. It is changed, from something that only hurts, to something those hurt, somehow, is beautiful, gentle, meaningful, like a light burning a little too bright, but still guiding us home. Lead becomes life. The alchemy of the heart. Pain meeting pain is ever and forever transformed into laughter, silence, tears, grace. Suffering holding suffering is reborn as truth, beauty, wisdom, and courage. How beautiful, how impossible, how incandescent. But hiding our pain away from one another, we feel forever lonely and distant, because pain has to meet pain for both to explode, just like the stars, if they meet, turn into the glitttering, lost, whirling dust from which life itself, at last, emerges, stumbling uncertainly into grace.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today Lettice’s oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton is visiting. Although also a member of the aristocracy Gerald’s fate is very different to Lettice’s. He has been forced to gain some independence from his rather impecunious family in order to make a living. Luckily his artistic abilities have led him to designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, a business which, after promotion from Lettice and several commissions from high profile and influential society ladies, is finally beginning to turn a profit. The two are taking tea from Lettice’s beautiful and avant-garde Royal Doulton Falling Leaves tea set whilst they wait for Edith, Lettice’s maid, to prepare a light cold luncheon for them. Across the low black japanned coffee table between them is spread a long papyrus* scroll featuring beautiful and wonderfully colourful Egyptian hieroglyphic writing and images. Arriving in a wooden box also marked with hieroglyphs, it is one of two Lettice has in her possession.
“There really are remarkable, Lettice darling!” Gerald enthuses as he runs his hands with reverence across the fine fibrous paper. “And in such condition for something so ancient.”
Lettice looks across the table at her friend and laughs loudly.
“What’s so funny?” Gerald asks in innocent surprise, glancing up from the scroll at Lettice.
“Oh Gerald, you silly thing!” Lettice giggles, raising a dainty hand with prettily manicured nails to her smiling lips. “This isn’t a real Egyptian papyrus scroll! I know some of my clients can afford to have real papyri on their walls, but this is a very well executed imitation!”
“An imitation?” Gerald’s eyes grow wide. When Lettice nods, he goes on, “Well, it certainly is an excellent copy, I’d never have known.”
“It came from Lancelot de Vries antiques and curios shop in the Portobello Road**.” Lettice elucidates.
“Ahh,” Gerald murmurs, settling back in the comfortable white upholstered rounded back of Lettice’s tub armchair. “That explains it then. No wonder it’s so good. Old Lottie,” He casually uses a female nickname*** instead of the antique dealer’s real name, indicating that he knows Mr. de Vries well. “Is so incredibly talented that he could have made a successful career out of forging old masters, if he hadn’t decided to tow the straight and narrow and become an antiques and objet d'art dealer.”
“Gerald!” Lettice gasps.
“It’s true! Just look at the quality in this piece.” He waves his hand expansively towards the unfurled scroll. “I could have sworn it was the genuine article.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, Gerald darling, but I don’t fancy spending the money on a real papyrus scroll from ancient Egypt just to hang on a wall until this Tutmaina**** craze ends.”
“So, this isn’t for you then, Lettice darling?”
“No. I’m taking this on approval from Mr. de Vries, who just received a shipment of them. He’s selling them in his shop. They race out the door quicker than you can say knife, apparently. I’m going to show these to Mrs. Hatchett and see whether she would like an Egyptian themed reception room.”
“Knowing Dolly Hatchett as well as I do, and knowing just how much she admires you and your taste,” Gerald opines. “I think something more oriental,” He waves his hands around Lettice’s drawing room, indicating to her Chinoiserie furniture, her Japanese screen and her Chinese ceramics. “Will appeal to her more.”
“But she gave be carte blanche to decorate her suite of rooms as I see fit, Gerald.”
“Then why are you asking her for her opinion?” Gerald looks at his best friend with a knowing look. He doesn’t wait for a reply from her. “I’ll tell you why. Because you know that even though she made you that promise, she will want to be consulted. This is a bigger project than ‘The Gables,” He refers to the Hatchetts’ Sussex house in Rotherfield and Mark Cross which Lettice partially redecorated in 1922. “This is all about promoting Charles Hatchett’s power and influence as an MP. Dolly won’t want to set a foot wrong. She knows she can’t afford to as much for her own sake as for Charles’. She has been a social pariah, relegated as the pretty flibbertigibbet Gaiety Girl***** from the chorus line of ‘Chu-Chin-Chow’****** who dared to look beyond her class and marry a successful banker with political aspirations. Now she is a successful MP’s wife, so she needs to show that she has impeccable taste, even if the taste really isn’t her own.”
Lettice sighs heavily. “You’re right Gerald darling. It’s true”
“Of course I’m right.” Gerald picks up his cup of tea and takes a sip from it. “However, I also know that as such an arbiter of what is fashionable, if you told Dolly Hatchett that you wanted to paint her reception room violent purple with green polka dots because it was the height of fashion, she’d let you, even if she hated it.”
“You know I would never do that to anyone, Gerald darling.” Lettice takes up her own cup of tea from the edge of the table which houses her telephone and a vase of fresh red roses from her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.
“I know.” he assures her.
The movement near to them, brings Gerald’s attention to the roses. Nodding at them, he asks, “Are those from your intended?”
Lettice looks at the fat blooms with their rich red velvety petals which are dispersed with fluffy white pompoms of Gypsophila****** and considers them, as if seeing them for the first time. “Yes.” she replies rather flatly.
Old enough to be her father, Lettice is engaged to be married to wealthy Sir John Nettleford-Huges. His engagement to Lettice came as something of a surprise to London society as he was always considered to be a confirmed old bachelor, and according to whispered upper-class gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.
“What of them?” Lettice goes on.
“Oh nothing.” Gerald remarks dismissively with an air of laissez-faire********. “I was just wondering.”
“I’ve known you all my life, Gerrald darling.” Lettice shakes her head and looks seriously at her best friend. “You were doing more than wondering. What is it? Come on. Spit it out!”
“Well, it’s just that when I was visiting Cyril at Hattie’s recently, Hattie showed me a book that had belonged to her mother. It’s called Floral Symbolica*********. She thought I might like to read it because it discusses the meaning of flowers, so that when I gave Cyril a bouquet of blooms, it would express my love for him.”
“And?” Lettice smiles.
“Well, dark red roses like those, are supposed to represent a more sophisticated and serious affection than a bright red rose, expressing eternal love, loyalty, and a heartfelt devotion.”
“And?”
“Oh look!” Gerald sighs sadly. “There’s no nice way for me to tell you this, but Cyril is friends with Paula Young, who I know is your intended’s latest conquest.”
Lettice’s heart begins to race at the mention of the young and pretty West End actress’ name. With a slight tremor, she lowers her teacup back into its saucer. “I know that too, Gerald darling. You know I do. John has been very forthright and honest about that facet of his life, and I know he won’t stop.”
“Well, Cyril knows about it too, and of course he knows through me that you and Sir John are engaged to be married.”
Lettice gulps as a shudder runs through her and she feels the blood drain from her face. “But how does he know about Miss Young and John?”
“Through Miss Young herself, I assume. From what Cyril’s mentioned about her, she is something of a parvenu, and she is rather indiscreet about her discretions. He told me as much the other night when I stayed with him at Hattie’s.”
“Oh no!” Lettice gasps, raising her hands to her cheeks which suddenly feel hot to the touch as they fill with embarrassed colour. “But Cyril is coming to Sylvia’s weekend house party now, and so are John and I! Oh Gerald!” Tears well in her eyes and threaten to spill over.
Gerald immediately thrusts his cup noisily back into its saucer and leaps up with sudden urgency. He scuttles around the low coffee table and wraps his arms around Lettice, pulling her to his chest as the tears start to spill from her sparkling blue eyes.
“Don’t worry, dear Lettice.” Gerald assures her. “I’ve spoken to him. I’ve told Cyril in no uncertain terms that he can’t mention that he knows anything about Sir John’s and Miss Young’s liaison to anyone, especially at the party, and that he is to keep mum**********.”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice sobs. “John promised me that he would never do anything to shame me in public as far as his…” She intakes a large gulp of air. “His dalliances.”
“Well,” Gerald says in defence of Sir John, gently chuckling sadly as he strokes Lettice’s back comfortingly through her French blue cardigan***********. “I suppose he doesn’t imagine that you would ever know a poor West End musician who just happens to be a friend of sorts with his latest flame.”
Lettice sniffs and pulls a clean and freshly laundered lace trimmed handkerchief from the left-hand sleeve of her cardigan and dabs at her eyes and nose, as Gerald crouches down in front of her, so that he can look her squarely in the face.
“He won’t, will he?” She sniffs again.
“Cyril?” Gerald asks. When Lettice nods shallowly he goes on, “No of course he won’t. I know that he may not be the most discreet of people, but I really have made it perfectly clear to him how important it is that he doesn’t let on about any of it. For all his faults, he likes you very much, Lettice, and he’d never want to embarrass or hurt you.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Lettice gulps again.
“Of course I am, Lettuce Leaf!” he replies, using his childhood nickname for her, which he knows she hates, in order to try and break her moment of worry by introducing a note of levity.
“Don’t call me that Gerald! You know how I hate it!” she replies.
“That’s better.” Gerald smiles. “Now dry those eyes. Luncheon will be ready soon, and you don’t want to sit at the table all red and puffy eyed, do you?”
Just at that moment, Lettice’s Bakelite************ and chrome telephone starts to ring and jangle on the small side table next to her.
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Both Lettice and Gerald glance with startled eyes at it in alarm, as though it has overheard their conversation and has an opinion of its own to express.
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Lettice sniffs and takes a deep intake of breath. “I suppose it would be rather awful of me to expect Edith to answer the telephone when I’m right alongside it, wouldn’t it?”
“Beastly, Lettice darling!” Gerald replies.
BBBBRRRINGGG!
“You know how she feels about that ‘infernal contraption’,” Gerald goes on quoting Lettice’s maid’s name for the telephone. “If you must irritate her, please do so after she’s served us luncheon. I don’t know about you, but I can barely boil a kettle, never mind cook a meal.”
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Gerald pauses and considers something. “Then again, maybe you should make her answer it. She might get so upset by having to do so, that she’ll hand in her notice.”
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Lettice sniffs again and dabs her eyes for good measure as she goes to lift the receiver.
“And, if she does give notice,” Gerald quickly adds as Lettice grasps the receiver. “I’ll hire Edith as a seamstress for my atelier. Her talents as a needlewoman are wasted here.”
“Not a chance!” Lettice replies defiantly. “She’s coming with me, not going with you.”
BBBBRRR…
Lettice picks up the handset out of its gleaming chrome cradle mid ring, causing the shrill jingle of the telephone to stop and quickly peter out.
“Mayfair 432,” Lettice announces in clearly enunciated syllables.
As Gerald returns to his tub chair, he can hear a deep male voice resonate from somewhere down the line, recognising them as Sir John’s tones, not that he can make out the words. The shock of knowing the man he and Lettice were just talking about is on the other end of the telephone call makes him freeze for a moment as a shiver runs up his spine.
“John darling!” Lettice exclaims almost a little too jovially. “How are you?” She listens to the response. “Oh, that’s good. Are we still having dinner at Le Bienvenue************* tonight?” She listens again. “Oh hoorah. Jolly good.” Sir John’s voice speaks again at the other end of the line, his tone serious. At length he pauses. “Oh no! Oh, poor Clemance. I must pay a call upon her then and do some sick visiting.” Sir John speaks up urgently. “Oh very well John. I won’t.” He speaks again. “No of course, John darling. You’re quite right. I don’t want to get sick before Sylvia’s party. I’ll telephone the Regent Street Flower Box directly and arrange for Monsieur Blanchet to send her a lovely bunch of flowers to brighten her day. You know Gerald and I were just talking about the meaning of flowers, John darling.” Sir John speaks again. “Yes. Yes, he’s here. We’re about to have luncheon, so I can’t speak for too long.” Lettice listens again. “Yes… yes… what about the party?” Sir John’s voice drones on, too indistinctly for Gerald to hear anything, and he feigns that he is not paying attention by looking down at his well manicured nails and rubbing them as if trying to buff them with the pads of his fingers on the opposite hand. “Oh.” Lettice sighs and her shoulders slump. “You want to ask her then do you?” Sir John speaks again. “Oh you did, John dear?” He mumbles something else. “She did? That was very kind of Sylvia to consider me like that.” There is more indistinct chatter at the other end of the telephone line. “Well,” Lettice tries to muffle a resigned sigh. “Well, if you feel you must, then I suppose you must.” Sir John’s voice seems to perk a little and he sounds less dour. “No. No, I don’t mind. Of course I don’t, especially if it will make you happy, dear John.” Gerald can see a light dim in her eyes. “Very well. Alright…” she falters for a moment and gulps. “I’ll see you at eight then.” she adds a little too brightly. “Yes, goodbye then.”
Lettice hangs the handset back on the cradle, the action causing the telephone to utter a single echoing ting as she does. She stares ahead of her, but her look is blank, suggesting that she sees nothing.
“What was that all about?” Gerald asks in concern as he looks at Lettice’s suddenly wan face.
“It was just John.” Lettice replies flatly.
“Yes, I could gather that, Lettice darling. What did he say?”
“Clemance is sick in bed with a nasty head cold. The doctor has told her to stay abed and keep warm to avoid it going to her lungs, so she won’t be coming to ‘The Nest’ now.”
“Oh, that is a pity. I was so looking forward to meeting Sir John’s sister. You speak of Mrs. Pontefract so highly.”
“So now, since Clemance isn’t coming,” Lettice continues, speaking as though she hasn’t heard Gerald talk. “He’s decided to invite Paula Young to come and spend the weekend with us.”
“What?” Gerald sits bolt upright in his seat.
“Yes. He asked Sylvia if she would mind, since she knows about his affair with Miss Young, and he feels that the rarified artistic company in attendance will be quite fine with his little arrangement of having both his fiancée and his mistress in the same house at the same time.”
“And what did Sylvia say to that?”
“Well, Sylvia is a bit of a free spirit when it comes to the sanctity of marriage, and matters of love and lust. She said she didn’t mind if he did ask Miss Young to join him, but only under the proviso that John asked me and got my permission first.”
“Which you evidently granted.” Gerald replies in breathless disbelief.
“I did.” Lettice replies flatly.
“You could have said no, Lettice. You should have said no!”
“Oh, how could I, Gerald darling?”
“Very simply.” he replies, folding his arms akimbo over his muted toned Fair Isle jumper************** and looking sternly at his best friend. “No darling, I’m sorry but you can’t invite that trollop*************** you share your bed with most nights to Miss Fordyce’s party.”
“I can’t Gerald darling.” Lettice defends.
“Well, I think you can. Just telephone him back right now. Where is he? Belgravia? His club?”
“He’s at home in Belgravia.”
“Well then, telephone him immediately and just tell him you’ve had a change of heart, and that no, Miss Young can’t come to the party at ‘The Nest’.”
“It’s not that simple, Gerald darling.” Lettice tries to explain, attempting to speak whilst using all her power to prevent herself from crying again. “This engagement is complex. John doesn’t want jealousy in his relationships. He certainly doesn’t want a jealous wife. He told me from the start that he has no intention of desisting from his dalliances, and that if I said yes to his proposal, I must accept him on those terms. He’ll be furious if I tell him no, now. It will be like me flying in the face of everything I agreed to when I said yes to him.”
“You don’t actually have to go through with it, you know, Lettice darling?”
“What? Going to stay with Sylvia at ‘The Nest’? I can’t Gerald darling! She’s throwing this party to show off her new feature wall. I’m her guest of honour. I can’t possibly withdraw so late in the piece, and with no real reason to decline. It would be rude, and undignified.”
“No, Lettice!” Gerald replies dourly. “I mean, you don’t have to go through with the marriage to Sir John. You are perfectly entitled to break it off, if you feel so inclined.”
“And risk the fury of Mater?” Lettice looks at Gerald in alarm and shakes her head vehemently. “No thank you! I think I’d rather put up with a hundred Miss Youngs than Mater in a black mood over my lack of securing an eligible husband! All the time she is investing in wedding plans. If it is all for naught, she will be fit to be tied! She sent me a clipping from the Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser**************** a few weeks ago.”
“Why? What did it say?”
“Jonty Hastings is getting married.”
“Howley Hastings is getting married?” Gerald guffaws, using the childhood nickname given Jonty Hastings by he, Lettice and the other children of the big houses in the district who used to play with him, because of his propensity to cry whenever he was teased about anything. “Who’d want to marry Howley Hastings?”
“Sarah Frobisher apparently, according to the article.” Lettice replies.
“Sarah Frobisher? Sarah Frobisher?” Gerald ruminates, rolling the name around his mouth and off his tongue as he considers where he has heard that name before. “Wasn’t she that rather horsey looking niece of the Miss Evanses?” He refers to the two elderly genteel gossipy spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house, in Glynes village at the foot of Lettice’s and his family estates in Wiltshire. “You know, the gawky one with protruding teeth and spectacles who always laughed nervously whenever a boy spoke to her. Her father was in trade*****************. Yes, the Frobisher Clothing Mills in Trowbridge.”
“Yes, I think that’s her.”
“Well, those two deserve each other then, if you ask me, if she’s still as gawky now as she was when we were children. They can dance the Wibbly Wobbly Walk***************** together into the happily ever after, and good riddance to them both.”
“Oh! That’s cruel, Gerald. Don’t be beastly!” Lettice chides her best friend sharply. “You aren’t a spiteful person.”
“Well,” Gerald mumbles contritely. “You have to admit that Howley can’t dance. Think about your poor trampled feet the last time you had to dance with him. Why on earth did Sadie send you a clipping about Howley marrying that Frobisher creature?”
“I think to highlight the fact that another one of the few eligible bachelors she was able to find to invite to her 1922 husband hunting Hunt Ball for me is no longer eligible. Pickings are slim.”
“All I am saying, Lettice darling,” Gerald goes on kindly. “Is that, slim pickings or not, if you’re not going to be happy in the end, I happen to think that marrying Sir John is a mistake. An unhappy and loveless marriage isn’t worth it.”
“Now don’t you start too, Gerald!” Lettice quips. “I have enough problems with Margot and Dickie trying to dissuade me from marrying John. Even Cilla seems lukewarm about the idea, and John’s almost like an honourary uncle to her.”
“I’m not!” Gerald defends, holding up his palms. “I only said ‘if’. If has a great deal of meaning and implication for such a tiny word, you know. For example: if however, you think you will be happy with your lot in life with Sir John, marry him. As I have said to you before, I cannot even marry the person I love.”
“Oh yes, how foolish of me.” Lettice replies. “Forgive me for wallowing.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Lettice darling. You’re my best friend! I only want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, Gerald darling.” Lettice replies gratefully. “Meanwhile, now you can tell your Cyril that he won’t need to bite his tongue and keep his own counsel quite so much, if Miss Young is going to be at ‘The Nest’. John will be all over her, I’m sure. And if he isn’t, from what I can gather from John, she certainly will be.”
“Well,” Gerald sighs. “That will certainly enliven what is already going to be a rather lively weekend, I suspect.”
At that moment, Edith walks into the drawing room.
“Luncheon is served, Miss.” she announces with a bob curtsey.
“Thank you, Edith.” Lettice says gratefully.
“Yes, thank you Edith.” Gerald adds. “It’s good of you to feed me at such short notice.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, Sir.” Edith replies with a beaming smile, thankful at Gerald’s recognition of her efforts. “It’s always a pleasure to have you at Cavendish Mews.”
As Lettice and Gerald both stand, and Edith turns to go, Gerald stops her. “By the way, Edith?”
“Yes Sir?” she asks, stopping and looking back at him.
“How’s your sewing going?”
“My sewing, Sir?” Edith asks, perplexed.
“Gerald!” Lettice cautions her friend.
“Yes, your frock making. Have you made anything new lately?”
“Oh,” Edith replies with a happy sigh and a smile. “It’s going well, thank you for asking, Sir, especially since Mrs. Boothby’s so…” She quickly swallows the word son, as she isn’t sure whether Lettice knows that the old Cockney charwoman****************** who comes to Cavendish Mews from Poplar every few days to help Edith with the harder housekeeping jobs, has a son, never mind a disabled one. “Found me a sewing machine. Now I don’t have to go to my Mum’s to do any sewing or alterations. I can do them here in my room.”
“Very good Edith. And have you made anything lately?” Gerald persists. “A new frock, perhaps?”
“Oh no, Sir.” Edith replies. “But I did make myself a lovely new white blouse with a Peter Pan collar******************* and black buttons a month ago now. I wear it on my days off quite a bit at the moment.”
“Well,” Lettice says breezily with a sigh. “That’s all very interesting, Edith, but Mr. Bruton and I have held you up and away from your chores long enough. You may go. We can serve ourselves since it’s just a casual cold luncheon for two today, so there is no need for you to wait table.”
“Yes, Miss. Very good, Miss.” Edith bobs another curtsey and scuttles away through the adjoining dining room and disappears through the green baize door that leads to the service area of the flat.
“Spoil sport.” Gerald mutters.
“I told you, Gerald.” Lettice repeats. “Edith isn’t for turning. When I get married, she’ll be coming with me.”
“I don’t think she’ll fancy being buried in the Wiltshire Downs, Lettice darling.”
“Perhaps not, Gerald darling, but I think she’ll quite enjoy an elevated position as housekeeper of John’s and my Belgravia townhouse after I become Lady Nettleford-Hughes.”
“You are positively Machiavellian sometimes, Lettice darling.” Gerald concedes in defeat as he proffers Lettice his arm.
The two walk out of the Cavendish Mews drawing room and into the dining room, where a cold luncheon of galantine of fowl******************** with a fresh garden salad await them on the dining room table.
*Papyrus paper is called papyrus, named after the Cyperus papyrus plant from which it is made. The word "papyrus" itself refers to both the plant and the writing material created from its stems. Documents written on this material are also referred to as papyri.
**Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill, London, is a world-famous street market known for its antiques, vintage clothing, and diverse food stalls. It's one of London's oldest markets, dating back to the Nineteenth Century. The market stretches along Portobello Road, from Westbourne Grove to Golborne Road, and is particularly vibrant on Saturdays.
***Historically, queer slang emerged as a way for queer people to communicate discreetly, forming a sense of community and shared identity. Using female names or terms could be a way to signal belonging within this coded language. It was also used for protection, allowing homosexual men to talk about one another discreetly in public without the implication of homosexuality and the repercussions that came with it as a criminal act.
****Tutmania was a worldwide media frenzy and cultural obsession that followed the 1922 discovery of King Tutankhamun's tomb by Howard Carter and his team, sparking a popular fad for ancient Egyptian art, design, and culture in the Western world and a resurgence of national pride in Egypt itself. Egyptian motifs appeared on clothes, jewellery, hairstyles, fabrics, furniture and in architecture, and it helped solidify the Art Deco movement of design with its clean lines. The discovery of the tomb itself was one of the most significant archaeological finds of the Twentieth Century, made the previously lesser-known pharaoh one of the most famous figures in history.
*****Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes.
******‘Chu Chin Chow’ is a musical comedy written, produced and directed by Oscar Asche, with music by Frederic Norton, based on the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. It was the most popular show in London’s West End during the Great War. It premiered at His Majesty’s Theatre in London on the 3rd of August 1916 and ran for 2,238 performances, a record number that stood for nearly forty years!
*******Gypsophila, known commonly as Baby’s Breath, is a genus of flowering plants in the carnation family. They are native to Eurasia, Africa, Australia, and the Pacific Islands. Turkey has a particularly high diversity of Gypsophila, with about thirty-five endemic species. Some Gypsophila are introduced species in other regions.
********Laissez-faire is the policy of leaving things to take their own course, without interfering.
*********‘Floral Symbolica; or, The Language and Sentiment of Flowers’ is a book written by John Ingram, published in London in 1870 by Frederick Warne and Co. who are perhaps best known for publishing the books of Beatrix Potter. ‘Flora Symbolica; or, The language and Sentiment of Flowers’ includes meanings of many species of flowers, both domestic and exotic, as well as floral poetry, original and selected. It contains a colour frontispiece and fifteen colour plates, printed in colours by Terry. John Henry Ingram (November the 16th, 1842 – February the 12th, 1916) was an English biographer and editor with a special interest in Edgar Allan Poe. Ingram was born at 29 City Road, Finsbury Square, Middlesex, and died at Brighton, England. His family lived at Stoke Newington, recollections of which appear in Poe's works. J. H. Ingram dedicated himself to the resurrection of Poe's reputation, maligned by the dubious memoirs of Rufus Wilmot Griswold; he published the first reliable biography of the author and a four-volume collection of his works.
**********We usually associate the term “to keep mum” with the Second World War, when it was a byline used on posters to dissuade gossip and the inadvertent sharing of vitally confidential for the war effort with fifth-columnists. However, the word "mum" meaning to be silent, not to speak, first appeared in William Langland's Fourteenth Century poem Piers Plowman, though the full phrase "mum's the word" gained popularity in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth centuries. The word itself is onomatopoeic, derived from the "mmm" sound made by a closed mouth.
***********French blue is a sophisticated, deep blue colour that is characterized by its muted quality, subtle violet or grey undertones, and a rich, smoky depth, reminiscent of classical French design, the Mediterranean sky, or the deep blue uniforms of historical French soldiers.
************Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
*************Le Bienvenue is the former name of L'Escargot, which is London's oldest French restaurant. Georges Gaudin opened Le Bienvenue at the bottom of Greek Street in Soho in 1896. He became famous for serving snails, and was reportedly the first in England to do so. Le Bienvenue even featured a snail farm in its basement, a unique talking point for customers. In 1927, two years after this story is set, Gaudin moved to larger premises at 48 Greek Street, the current location, in a Georgian townhouse built in 1741 which was once the private residence of the Duke of Portland and a pastoral getaway in what was then a rural part of London. When he moved, patrons of the restaurant encouraged him to rename it after his most popular dish, leading to the name L'Escargot.
**************Fair Isle is a traditional knitting style used to create patterns with multiple colours. It is named after Fair Isle, one of the Shetland Islands. Fair Isle knitting gained popularity when the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VIII) wore Fair Isle jumpers in public in 1921. Traditional Fair Isle patterns have a limited palette of five or so colours, use only two colours per row, are worked in the round, and limit the length of a run of any particular colour.
***************The term "trollop" was introduced in the early 1600s, with the earliest known evidence of its use appearing in the writings of George Wither in 1615. The term, a noun, was already established in the English language by that time.
****************The Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser is weekly newspaper which serves the towns of west Wiltshire, including Trowbridge. Printed in Trowbridge it was established in 1854 by Benjamin Lansdown, as The Trowbridge and Wiltshire Advertiser. Benjamin was born in Trowbridge and was the son of a woollen mill employee but this was not the path he wished to follow and he was apprenticed as a printer alongside Mr John Sweet. He bought a hard press and second-hand typewriter before starting his own newspaper, along with establishing his own stationery shop in Silver Street around 1860. He moved the business into 15 Duke Street around 1876. Duke Street became home to the impressive R. Hoe & Co printing press that allowed printers to use continuous rolls of paper, instead of individual sheets, to speed up the process and countless copies of the newspaper rolled off the press at Duke Street for many years. The newspaper was based there for more than one hundred years and the business remained within the Lansdown family for generations until it was finally sold in the early 1960s. Over the years in had various names including The Trowbridge and North Wiltshire Advertiser from 1860 until 1880, The Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser from 1880 until 1949, The Wiltshire Times between 1950 and 1962 and The Wiltshire Times & News between 1962 and 1963. It then became known as the Wiltshire Times – the banner it holds today. In 2019, the Wiltshire Times and its sister paper the Gazette & Herald moved to offices on the White Horse Business Park in North Bradley, stating that its Duke Street building was no longer fit for purpose. These offices later closed in 2020 as the three Covid-19 pandemic lockdowns struck. The Wiltshire times is still serving the local community both in a paper and an online format with a small team of journalists who passionately believe in the value of good trusted journalism and providing in-depth local news coverage.
****************The term to be “in trade” most commonly means engaging in commercial activity, such as regularly buying, selling, or offering goods or services as part of a business. It can also refer to the goods themselves (stock-in-trade) kept by a business for sale, or a characteristic skill or behaviour consistently used in a particular line of work. Used as a slur by the British upper-classes, “in trade” implied that because a man had to work for his living, even if he was a steel magnate or something equally successful, he was not as good as, and would never be a gentleman, who traditionally did not work to earn money. Money and money talk was considered vulgar by the upper-classes. A man who was “in trade” would never marry the daughter of an aristocrat or member of the landed gentry.
*****************‘They All Walk the Wibbly Wobbly Walk’ is a song written by Paul Pelham and J. P. Long sung by the famous British music hall performer Mark Sheridan in 1912. It was a song often sung during the Great War, and associated by the British general public with the survivors of the conflict who trembled due to shell shock or had misshapen walks thanks to injuries inflicted upon them.
******************A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
*******************A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.
********************A galantine of fowl is a traditional French cold dish made from a deboned fowl, typically chicken, which is stuffed with a forcemeat (a mixture of ground meats and other ingredients), then rolled into a cylindrical shape, and poached in stock. It is served cold, often coated in a clear, gelatinous aspic, and can be elaborately decorated with ingredients like pistachios, truffles, and vegetables.
This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The boxed and unboxed Egyptian papyrus scrolls you see on Lettice’s black japanned coffee table are 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Famed for his books, Ken Blythe also made other miniature artisan pieces from paper, including these scrolls, which can be fully wound out to reveal Egyptian hieroglyphics. To make a pieces as authentic as this makes them true artisan pieces. Most of the Ken Blythe books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words of the titles, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, and a great many pieces from his daughter from his estate. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
Lettice’s tea set sitting on the coffee table is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era called “Falling Leaves”.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife Arabella. Lettice is visiting her family home to broach a most delicate subject about her forthcoming wedding, a subject which has caused a scene between Lettice and her mother.
For nearly a year Lettice had been patiently awaiting the return of her then beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wanted to end so that she could marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice returned to Cavendish Mews and milled over her options over a week as she reeled from the news. Then, after that week, she knew exactly what to do to resolve the issues raised by Lady Zinnia’s unwelcome news about her son. Taking extra care in her dress, she took herself off to the neighbouring upper-class London suburb of Belgravia and paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.
Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John is still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intends to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a aftermath of the Great War when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate belonging to her parents, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Selwyn rescued Lettice from the horror of having to entertain him, and Sir John left the ball early in a disgruntled mood with a much younger partygoer. Lettice recently reacquainted herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, a baronial Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show where she found him yet again to be a pleasant and attentive companion for much of the evening.
Sir John also made a proposition to her that night: he offered her his hand in marriage should she ever need it. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them. Turning up unannounced on his doorstep, she agreed to his proposal after explaining that the understanding between she and Selwyn was concluded. However, in an effort to be discreet, at Lettice’s insistence, they did not make their engagement public until the new year: after the dust about Selwyn’s break of his and Lettice’s engagement settled. Sir John motored across from Fontengil Park in the days following New Year and he and Lettice announced their engagement in the palatial Glynes drawing room before the Viscount and Lady Sadie the Countess, Leslie, Arabella and the Viscount’s sister Eglantyne (known by all the Chetwynd children affectionally as Aunt Egg). The announcement received somewhat awkwardly by the Viscount initially, until Lettice assured him that her choice to marry Sir John has nothing to do with undue influence, mistaken motivations, but perhaps the person most put out by the news is Aunt Egg who is not a great believer in the institution of marriage, and feels Lettice was perfectly fine as a modern unmarried woman. Lady Sadie, who Lettice thought would be thrilled by the announcement of her engagement, received the news with a somewhat muted response and she discreetly slipped away after drinking a toast to the newly engaged couple with a glass of fine champagne from the Glynes wine cellar.
Today we find ourselves in the Glynes library. A refuge for the Viscount from his wife, the library is a quiet space that smells of dust, old books and woodsmoke. The walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves, all full of books: thousands of volumes on so many subjects. Sunlight pours through the tall windows facing out to the front of the house, burnishing the polished parquetry floors. Dust motes, dance blithely through beams of spring sunlight. And there, sitting at his Chippendale desk, sits Viscount Wrexham, with Leslie standing at his right shoulder as he shares estate correspondence with his father.
“And what’s this?” the Viscount asks as Leslie wafts a chit* written by hand on a scrappy piece of paper in front of him.
“It’s from Leonard Musslewhite, Pappa.” Leslie replies. “It’s for the temporary repairs he did to Eyebright Farm’s barn after that big storm that brought down the old cedar tree.”
“Ahh yes!” the Viscount replies, remembering the early spring storm, more wind than rain, that blew tils and chimneypots from roofs and felled trees across the county. “Well, pay him out of the petty cash, Leslie my boy, and then look in the estate diary as to when we can pay a visit to Eyebright Farm. Those are slate tiles on his barn roof, and temporary or no, Lenoard Musselwhite’s no carpenter, so I don’t imagine his patch job will be much chop**. Do you?”
“No Pappa.” Leslie agrees with a chuckle. “And that barn is in good form for its age. I’d hate for there to be any damage because of a leaking roof when it next rains. We can see if any of the slate tiles that blew off during the storm are salvageable.”
“Good thinking, my boy!” the Viscount agrees with a curt nod. “Anything else before I settle down to my latest stamps?” He lovingly caresses a strip of six brown unfranked Penny Black*** stamps poking out of an envelope that arrived from London in the morning post.
“Well,” Leslie says a little reluctantly. “There is also this.” He holds out a letter with distaste written on a mauve coloured sheet decorated with violets around the edge, covered in spidery copperplate. As he does, a waft of flowery perfume drifts through the air between them.
“Pooh!” the Viscount decries, screwing up his nose at the scent. “What the devil is that, Leslie?” He recoils from it as though it were poisoned. “That looks… and smells like something for your mother, not me!”
“I wish I could say it was, but no, it’s addressed to the office of the estate and is for you, I’m afraid, Pappa. It’s a rather simpering letter from Geraldine Evans.” Leslie replies, referring to the elder of the two genteel gossipy spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house, in Glynes village. “It’s about that plot of land next to their house that belongs to Lord Bruton.”
“What the blazes is that whittering Geraldine Evans writing to me about a matter involving Bruton for?”
“It seems that the rumour mills of the village are running hot again about Lord Bruton being beset with financial difficulties, and word on the high street seems to be he is wanting to sell the land. Miss Evans wonders whether, being his friend, you might find out if there is any truth to the rumours, and if so, could you put in a good word for her, as she and her sister would like first dibs**** to acquire it. She’d prefer it to stay open meadow.”
“She’d be better writing to Gwenyth than me,” the Viscount mutters, referencing Lord Bruton’s wife Lady Gwenyth, flapping irritably at the letter, indicating for Leslie to take it out of his sights. “If she wants to curry favour with Bruton.”
“She probably feels that with you two being friends, Lord Bruton is more likely to confide in you than Aunt Gwen,” Leslie responds, calling Lady Bruton by her honourary title of aunt. Looking imploringly at his father, he goes on, “Especially when it comes to financial woes, which you know he won’t share with her.”
The Viscount looks doggedly at his son. He sighs resignedly and then holds his hand out to Leslie and snatches the letter. “Alright. I’ll write back to her, even if it is just to shut her whittering up for now.” He slips the offending letter into one of the small drawers beneath the brown and gilt leather tooled surface of his desk. “I’ve heard nothing about it.”
“As I said, it’s probably just rumours, Pappa.” Leslie says with a relieved sigh. “You know how the village is when it comes to gossip.”
“Yes, and Geraldine and Henrietta Evans are the worst perpetrators of Glynes village gossip!” the Viscount opines gruffly. “Blast the pair of them!”
Leslie nods in agreement, not being particularly enamoured of either lady.
Just then, one of the warm mahogany doors of the library opens inward and Lettice slips in and slinks across the room without greeting either her father or her eldest brother.
“I hope, Lettice,” the Viscount mutters warningly, glancing up addressing his sulky youngest child as she moves towards them with hunched shoulders. “That you haven’t come in here to make a scene. This is one of the few places in the house I can escape your mother’s histrionics, so I shan’t tolerate yours. Your brother and I are busy with estate affairs. Too busy for a scene like the one I witnessed before.”
Earlier in the day, alerted to it by the sound of raised voices echoing down the corridor, the Viscount had walked into the Glynes flower room and come across Lettice and her mother arguing bitterly, before Lettice slipped away, her face awash with tears. Lettice has been visiting Glynes especially to see her mother to broach a subject of some delicacy about her forthcoming marriage to Sir John. Several weeks ago, when Lettice and Sir John were taking tea with his younger sister, Clemance Pontefract, who as a widow, has recently returned to London and set up residence in Holland Park, Lettice suggested that Clemance might help her choose her trousseau*****. Thinking that Lady Sadie’s ideas will doubtless be somewhat old fashioned and conservative when it comes to commissioning evening dresses and her wedding frock, Lettice wants to engage Clemance’s smart eye and eager willingness to please Lettice as her future siter-in-law to help her pick the trousseau she really wants. Knowing that the subject would be difficult to discuss with her mother, with whom she has a somewhat fraught relationship, she decided to approach her face-to-face. Unsurprisingly, Lady Sadie did not take kindly to the suggestion, any more than she did the idea that Lord Bruton’s son, Gerald, Lettice’s oldest childhood chum and best friend, who has started designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, making Lettice’s wedding frock. In the end, Lady Sadie wouldn’t countenance the idea of Gerald making Lettice’s gown, since she felt it would be embarrassing for her youngest daughter to appear in a frock made by the son of her family friend and neighbours, Lord and Lady Bruton, as well as have Gerald as a guest at the wedding. It was this definite final pronouncement that drove Lettice away in tears.
“I can see by your face, my girl, that you are still very angry with your mother.” the Viscount observes as he looks into his daughter’s red and pouting face, her cheeks still marred by her earlier tears, and her bright blue eyes glistening with a barrage of them that are yet to be shed.
“What’s Mater done, Tice?” Leslie asks in concern.
Lettice slumps into the Chippendale chair on the opposite side of the desk to her father and elder brother. She utters a shuddering sigh. “She’s just being her usual, beastly self, is all, Leslie!”
The Viscount looks up at his son’s uncomprehending face. “Your Mother is refusing to let Gerald Bruton make Lettice’s wedding dress.”
“Oh.” Leslie opines with raised eyebrows.
“She wants us to go to ghastly Madame Handley-Seymour’s****** in Bond Street instead!” Lettice bursts. “But I won’t go! I just won’t!” She thumps her palm on the edge of her father’s desk in frustration, making the owl under glass and double silver picture frames shake, and the Viscount’s ink bottles on their silver tray rattle noisily.
“Tice!” Leslie is shocked by Lettice’s sudden petulant outburst
However, the Viscount takes it all in his stride as he says “Temper! Temper, Lettice my girl. I told you already, I’ll have no histrionics.”
“Sorry Pappa.” Lettice mutters in a low and unhappy tone. She sniffs as she takes a crumpled lace edged handkerchief from a small pocket in her spring frock and dabs at her nose and wipes her eyes and cheeks with it. “It’s just so miserably unfair. Mamma is being a beast for not letting Gerald make my wedding frock when I especially want him to. He’s made me so many frocks since he opened his shop in London. Who would know what suits me better? Certainly not Madame Handley-Seymour!”
“Why has Mater taken so against Gerald making Tice’s wedding frock,” Leslie asks. “Especially if she really wants it. It is Tice’s wedding after all. Why shouldn’t she get married in a frock of her own choosing?”
Lettice smiles up gratefully at her brother from her seat.
“Because, Leslie my boy, your Mother feels that it would be an embarrassment to the family,” the Viscount elucidates with remarkable calm.
“How so, Pappa?”
“Well, Gerald will be an honoured guest at the wedding too, and she feels it would just be too ridiculous for all the great and good of the county attending the wedding to know that he also made Lettice’s dress. She also thinks it would be an embarrassment for Lord Bruton, as we all know he doesn’t exactly approve of his son’s… ahem!” the Viscount coughs and clears his throat awkwardly, blushing a little as he does. “His choices in life.”
“Well, Roland isn’t exactly a pillar of society.” Leslie remarks, referring to Lord Bruton’s son and heir and Gerald’s older bullying brother. “Carousing and womanising with girls of an unsuitable class aren’t the most moral of behaviours. In fact, I’d say of the two of them, Gerald is the one he should be less concerned about. Besides, Gerald did a beautiful job making Bella’s wedding dress, and he was invited to our wedding, as were all the Brutons, and there was no kerfuffle. Well, none that I know of, anyway.”
“Yes, I know.” the Viscount hisses. “But let’s be honest, Leslie: a man making ladies garments is a bit of a rum business*******, don’t you think?” He turns back to his daughter and adds a little more softly with a gentle smile, “Your mother has a point, Lettice my dear.”
“You’re taking her side, Pappa!” Lettice gasps, sitting up more straightly in her seat, her jaw squaring with indignation. “I think that’s jolly unfair!”
“No, I’m not taking anyone’s side, Lettice.” the Viscount holds up his hands in defence. “In fact, I am trying to keep as far out of this business as I can. Frocks and wedding plans are your mother’s domain, not mine, so I defer to her decisions on this matter.”
“So, you agree with Mamma about not letting Clemance Pontefract help with my trousseau too, Pappa?” Lettice asks in disbelief.
“Who’s Clemance Pontefract?” Leslie queries.
“John’s younger widowed sister who lives in Holland Park.” Lettice explains.
“What has she got to do with your trousseau, Tice?” Leslie persists.
“Clemance has only recently returned to London after her husband died. She’s ever so smart and select and knows so much about fashion. She spent many years before the war in Paris, and returned there at the end of hostilities. John and she are very close, and he knows she feels lonely and at a bit of a loose end here in London, so we thought that we’d try and involve her more in the wedding by letting her help me pick my trousseau, especially since Mamma hates coming up to London.”
“Well, I can understand if Mater feels put out by you involving a relative stranger, Tice.” Leslie interrupts Lettice’s explanation.
“She’s not a stranger, Leslie!” Lettice retorts.
“To you maybe, but to Mater she is. To me too.”
“To all of us.” the Viscount adds.
“She’s John’s younger sister.” Lettice persists.
“That may be, but have we met her?” Leslie counters. “No! Sorry Tice, but Mater is in the right this time.”
“Of course you’d take her side too, Leslie,” Lettice spits in frustration. “Being her favourite.”
“Now it’s you who isn’t being fair, my girl. Your Mother has a right to feel bitter about being usurped, Lettice.” the Viscount tries to reason with his youngest daughter. “It has always been the preserve of mothers, going back generations, to help their daughters choose their wedding trousseau. Just think about it from her perspective. You come sauntering in here and tell her that she’s been replaced by a woman she has never heard of, never mind met. I’d feel like I was being discarded like something unwanted if I were her too.”
“Pappa has a point, Tice.”
“I’m not replacing Mamma!” Lettice laughs with incredulity. “As I said to Mamma before, it’s not like I’m suggesting that I go wedding frock shopping with Margot.” Lettice implores. “Clemance is more around Mamma’s age than mine, and I wasn’t suggesting that Clemance take over, either, just simply be of help. After all, she lives in London.”
“Yes, and we have a townhouse in Fitzroy Square********.” the Viscount counters.
“Yes, which you only open up when you and Mamma have to go up to London, which the pair of you only ever do now when you have to go to one of the King’s levées********* or other courtly duties. Clemance lives in Holland Park. We could go shopping if Mamma doesn’t feel like coming up to London.”
“Ahh, but you see, Lettice my girl, she does feel like going up to London.” The Viscount pauses and looks earnestly into his daughter’s face. “For you.”
“In fact,” Leslie adds. “She’s been rather excited about helping you pick clothes. She’s been talking to me about it like a twittering bird over the last few weeks.”
“Yes, I know,” Lettice adds rather flatly. “She’s been making plans in my absence, and has written a list of whom she deems the ‘most suitable’ court dressmakers that we can visit, without even asking me what my preference might be.”
“Touché, Lettice my dear.” the Viscount adds to the conversation. “You’ve been making your own plans for goodness knows how long about this trousseau business without your mother.”
Lettice’s mouth flaps open and closed, but nothing comes out as she realises that her father is correct, and she suddenly recognises the miscalculations she has made with her plans, even though they have been done with good intentions.
The trio fall silent for a moment, the ticking of the clock on the mantlepiece and the twitter of blackbirds in the shrubbery outside the library windows the only things to break it.
“There’s an extra reason why John particularly wanted Clemance to be involved in the acquiring of my trousseau, Pappa.” Lettice finally says, breaking the thick hush of the room. “One I didn’t disclose to Mamma.”
“This should be good.” the Viscount mutters with resignation, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms akimbo across his golden yellow shepherd’s check********** vest.
“What is it, Tice?” Leslie asks, leaning forward with interest.
Lettice’s eyes dart between her brother and her father. “I’ll tell you, but only if you both promise never to bring this up in Clemance’s presence.”
“I promise.” Leslie readily agrees.
“I promise conditionally.” the Viscount grumbles. “If it really is something that should not be spoken about in front of this Clemance sister of Sir John’s. There are far too many inconsequential secrets in this world, and you know I don’t like secrets as a general rule, my girl.”
“Oh it is very consequential, Pappa, and if either of you tell Mamma, she must be sworn to secrecy too.” Lettice insists.
“Well,” the Viscount adds. “I cannot say in all honesty that your Mother is the soul of discretion, however she knows when to keep a confidence, Lettice. Go on.”
A few more tense moments go by as Lettice considers what her father has just said.
“John wants Clemance to be involved in my wedding plans because,” Her voice catches for a second. “Because she and her husband did have a daughter, who like me was born in 1900.” Lettice’s eye shimmer with tears and her lip trembles slightly. “But she… she died of diphtheria when she was twelve.”
A tenseness suddenly fills the atmosphere around the trio as Leslie and the Viscount process what Lettice is telling them.
“So, you see. That’s why you can’t say anything in front of Clemance, unless she divulges it to you, which I doubt she will do. She hasn’t disclosed it to me.”
“Then how do you know this to be true, Tice?” Leslie asks.
“Because when John and I visited Clemance in Holland Park, I saw a portrait hanging in the hallway of Clemance with a little girl. I asked John, and he told me quickly, but in the strictest confidence, what I have just told you now. Clemance has been at rather a loose end since her husband died. Aside from John, she has no close family. She has taken rather a shine to me, and John thinks this fondness comes about because I remind her of her lost daughter.”
“So, Sir John thinks she might be a bit happier, less at a loose end, as it were, if she were involved in the wedding plans.” the Viscount murmurs sadly.
Lettice nods her confirmation shallowly. “She can participate in something she never thought she’d have the opportunity to do. And like Mamma, she has been gaily chatting to me about plans for my trousseau.”
“Well,” Leslie says exhaling, releasing a pent-up breath. “That does make a difference.” He turns and looks at his father. “Surely it does, Pappa?”
The Viscount doesn’t answer straight away, remaining ponderous in his seat, scratching his freshly shaved chin with right index finger and thumb, lost in his own deep contemplation of Lettice’s revelation about Clemance.
“Pappa?” Lettice asks hopefully.
“Alright,” the Viscount finally answers. “I’ll have a quiet word with your Mother, now Lettice.”
“Oh Pappa!” Lettice exclaims, clasping her hands and beaming.
“In my own way, mind you.” he adds quickly, taking his finger away from his chin and wagging it at his daughter. “I’ll have no histrionics or scenes from you about either it, or your Mother’s choice of dressmakers, no matter what her decision is.”
“Yes Pappa.” Lettice acquiesces quietly, nodding and lowering her eyes to her lap.
“Surely Mater won’t say no to Lettice’s request once she knows about Clemance’s lost child, Pappa!” Lettice says.
“Ahh my boy!” the Viscount replies with a sigh, pushing the seat away from his desk and standing up with a groan. He pats Leslie on the shoulder. “You always were your Mother’s favourite and she yours. You forgive or don’t see half her faults.” His shoulders rise and fall as he breathes heavily. “However, for all her faults, your Mother is a good woman. I’m quite sure she won’t refuse. Of course,” He turns back to his daughter, who has also now arisen from her seat. “You will have to organise a suitable introduction for your Mother to meet Clemance.”
“Oh, I will, Pappa!” Lettice readily agrees, her eyes now sparkling with joy, rather than unshed tears.
“And you will go to Madame Handley-Whoever’s for a fitting, as per your Mother’s wishes.”
“But Pappa…” Lettice begins, but a serious and intense stare from her father silences her protestations.
“As per your Mother’s wishes!” he repeats firmly.
“Yes Pappa.”
“Talking Sadie around about Clemance will be a lot simpler than convincing her to let Gerald Bruton design your wedding frock though. It may take some time…”
“Oh, thank you Pappa!”
“And,” he interrupts her thankful acknowledgement. “I cannot promise you that I can persuade her, Lettice my dear. I’ll have a chat with Lord Bruton about how feels about the matter, and whether he would be too mortified by his son designing your wedding frock,” He turns to Leslie again. “Since I am now going to be obliged to go and speak with him about Geraldine Evans’ rumours and gossip anyway. If he agrees to it, that may persuade your Mother.”
“Oh Pappa!” Lettice exclaims. “You really are a brick!”
“Maybe!” he cautions his daughter. “I’ll not promise anything, but I’ll try! And if you really do want to succeed in your endeavours, I strongly suggest you try and keep on Sadie’s good side as much as you can.” He raises his bushy eyebrows smattered with silvery white hairs and gives Lettice a knowing look. “Even though I know that will be hard for you.”
“I’ll try, Pappa.”
“Good girl!” the Viscount smiles. “Come along then!” he bustles. “Let’s go find your Mother. Hopefully she’s not too far away, and in a calmer and better temper. Leslie and I have more important things to do than go on a treasure hunt for her around the house.”
The trio walk across the library together towards the double doors leading out into the grand Glynes entrance hall.
“Madame Handley-Seymour.” Leslie muses as they walk. “Madame Handley-Seymour.”
“What about her?” Lettice asks.
“Didn’t Madame Handley-Seymour make the wedding dress for your friend Elizabeth*********** when she married Bertie************ a few years ago?”
“Yes,” Lettice sighs.
“Well, that’s not such a bad choice, Tice.” Leslie continues, winding a comforting arm around his little sister. “At least she’s fashionable. At least she didn’t suggest the woman who made Lally’s dress back in 1910 – you know, the one who sailed on the Titanic and was in that scandal about how empty her lifeboat was*************.”
“Oh, she mentioned her too, Leslie, don’t you fret!” Lettice replies with a chuckle.
*A chit is a short official note, typically recording a sum owed.
**The phrase “Not much chop" is an informal, English, Australian and New Zealand English idiom meaning "not very good" or "not much to be desired". It's used to express a low opinion of something or someone. Born out of the British Raj, this rem derives from the word “chop” which was a quality, class, a mark or stamp indicating this on goods send out of India, a word that ultimately comes from the Hindi word chāp, “stamp”.
***The Penny Black was the world's first adhesive postage stamp used in a public postal system. It was first issued in the United Kingdom on 1 May 1840 but was not valid for use until 6 May. The stamp features a profile of Queen Victoria.
****"First dibs" is an informal way of saying that someone has the right to have or choose something before anyone else. It essentially means having a prior claim or preference. The term is often used in situations where there are limited resources or choices, and someone wants to secure their preferred option. The origin of the phrase is believed to be a children's game called "dibstones" (or a variation of it) played in 17th-century Britain. This game involved tossing small pebbles or knuckle-bones and catching them, with the first person to catch them being said to have "dibs" on them. Over time, "dibs" became a way to express a claim on something, and "first dibs" evolved to mean having the first choice.
*****A trousseau refers to the wardrobe and belongings of a bride, including her wedding dress or similar clothing such as day and evening dresses.
******Elizabeth Handley-Seymour (1867–1948) was a London-based fashion designer and court-dressmaker operating as Madame Handley-Seymour between 1910 and 1940. She is best known for creating the wedding dress worn by Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the future Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother, for her marriage to the Duke of York, the future King George VI, in 1923; and later, Queen Elizabeth's coronation gown in 1937.
*******Rum is a British slang word that means odd (in a negative way) or disreputable.
********Fitzroy Square is a Georgian square in London, England. It is the only one in the central London area known as Fitzrovia. The square is one of the area's main features, this once led to the surrounding district to be known as Fitzroy Square or Fitzroy Town and latterly as Fitzrovia, though the nearby Fitzroy Tavern is thought to have had as much influence on the name as Fitzroy Square.
*********A "royal levée" refers to a formal reception or gathering, often held by a sovereign or their representative, where they receive dignitaries, officials, and other important guests. It is a tradition with roots in ancient practices of rulers displaying their power and accessibility.
**********Shepherd’s check is a popular pattern for a rather sturdy tweed, commonly worn in the country. Coming in various colours and pattern styles, the small check version in black and white is commonly known as Pepita check in Germanic countries.
***********Elizabeth Bowes Lyon went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to"
************Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. He was Duke of York from 1920 to 1936, living in London and also (from 1932) at Royal Lodge, Windsor Great Park. He became King George VI, King of the United Kingdom and the Dominions of the British Commonwealth from the 11th of December 1936 until his death in 1952. He was also the last Emperor of India from 1936 until the British Raj was dissolved in August 1947, and the first head of the Commonwealth following the London Declaration of 1949.
*************Lucile – Lucy, Lady Duff Gordon was a leading British fashion designer in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries who use the professional name Lucile. She was the originator of the “mannequin parade”, a pre-cursor to the modern fashion parade, and is reported to have been the person to first use the word “chic” which she then popularised. Lucile is also infamous for escaping the Titanic in a lifeboat designed for forty occupants with her husband and secretary and only nine other people aboard, seven being crew members.
Cluttered with books and art, Viscount Wrexham’s library with its Georgian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The majority of the books that you see lining the shelves of the Viscount’s library are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. So too is the stamp album, the envelopes and even the Penny Black stamps on the Viscount’s Chippendale desk. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make each miniature an artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
Also on the desk to the left stands a stuffed white owl on a branch beneath a glass cloche. A vintage miniature piece, the foliage are real dried flowers and grasses, whilst the owl is cut from white soapstone. The base is stained wood and the cloche is real glass. This I acquired along with two others featuring shells (one of which can be seen in the background) from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles and a blotter on a silver salver all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame. On the desk is a roller and a bell, both also made from sterling silver, a silver pen with a tiny seed pearl in its end and a brass cloisonné handled letter opener which also come from the Little Green Workshop.
The Chippendale desk itself is made by Bespaq, and it has a mahogany stain and the design is taken from a real Chippendale desk. Its surface is covered in red dioxide red dioxide leather with a gilt trim. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.
In the background you can see the book lined shelves of Viscount Wrexham’s as well as a hand painted ginger jar from Thailand which stands on a Bespaq plant stand.
The gold flocked Edwardian wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.