Thornton the Witness

     "A police inspector came and taxed me with having been the companion of the young man, whose push or blow had occasioned Leonards' death; that was a false accusation, you know, but we had not heard that Fred had sailed, he might still be in London and liable to be arrested on this false charge, and his identity with the Lieutenant Hale, accused of causing mutiny, discovered, he might be shot; all this flashed through my mind, and I said it was not me. I was not at the railway station that night. I knew nothing about it. I had no conscience or thought but to save Fredrick."
     "I say it was right. I should have done the same. You forget yourself in thought for another. I hope I should have done the same."
     "No, you would not. It was wrong, disobedient, faithless. At that very time Fred was safely out of England, and in my blindness I forgot that there was another witness who could testify to my being there."
     "Who?"
     "Mr. Thornton."

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Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, ch. 46 pg. 387

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     And the truth comes out. I waited the whole book through for this moment to happen. Oh how I wanted Mr. Bell to tell Thornton the truth about Margaret. I wanted him to know that Fred was her brother. That she had lied in loyalty to her family, not been being disrespectful and having an affair. Oh how I wanted his broken lover's heart to be mended. This honest confession between the two meant so much for me, and when Bell wouldn't let her speak at first, I was like one of those people watching a movie and shouting at the characters to do a certain thing, only in this case, it was a book character. That's how into the book I was.
     Spoilers. The fact that Mr. Bell is of no help and never tells Thornton kills me! Some friend. What a jerk. This old guy wants to marry the heroine and here he has a chance to save her butt and he doesn't do anything about it. AH!!! Man books tear your heart out.
    The irony though that of all the people to see, Thornton was the witness. AH!! The agony!

Miss King

     "She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her."
     "But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather's death made her mistress of this fortune."
     "No- why should he? If it was not allowable for him to gain my affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be for making love to a girl whom he did care about and who was equally poor?"
     "But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions toward her, so soon after this event."
     "A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant decorums which other people may observe. If she does not object to it, why should we?"
     "Her not objecting does not justify him."

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Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, ch. 27 pg. 151

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     I love it when authors give ironic names to their characters, like Hawthorne's Chillingsworth, or now Austen's Miss King. Here she just got a fortune, and she has power over the Bennets like a ruler, stealing certain people from their company. She is not loved because of any virtue except that of money. Poor girl. She reminds me of other Jane Austen characters or like a Jane Eyer character, poor and rejected by family, but when her family dies, suddenly she has friends.
    I have to say I love how Austen makes her heroine so judgmental. I suppose because I am a judger and not a perceiver that I enjoy a character more when we have that in common. It is also nice -going back to Austen's writing style- how she does not say "said Elizabeth... spoke Jane... shouted Lydia... scoffed Mrs. Bennet," but she usually lets you know who is talking by what they say. I wish she had published more books before she died.

Oh Noble Fredrick, How I Hate You

   Frederick turned round, right facing the lamp, where the gas darted up in vivid anticipation of the train. A man in the dress of a railway porter started forward; a bad-looking man, who seemed to have drunk himself into a state of brutality, although his senses were in perfect order.
   "By your leave, miss!" said he, pushing Margaret rudely on one side, and seizing Frederick by the collar.
   "Your name is Hale, I believe?"
   In an instant- Margaret did not see, for everything danced before her eyes - but by some sleight wrestling, Fredrick had tripped him up, and he fell from the height of three or four feet, which the platform was elevated above the space of soft ground, by the side of the railroad. There he lay.
   "Run, run!" gasped Margaret.

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, ch. 32 pg. 259

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     Elizabeth Gaskell just makes me love books. Her descriptions are perfect in every way, from the personified gas to the excitement of death messing up life. She has the perfect balance of dialog with description and her adjectives are always so colorful and imaginative, with scenes dancing in character's heads.
    She makes her characters round in strange ways, like Fredrick. He is complex even though he is only in the book for a short period. He is talked about by others nearly longer than he is present with Margaret. I love him because he's Margaret's brother, and she loves him, but oh how I hate how the disconnect between them abuses Margaret. Her mother never loved her because of Fredrick. Her maid is better friends with her mother than she is because of Fredrick. She has never been free to travel and her family has never been a full family because of Fredrick. Yet Fredrick is a noble character who stood for what was right and will never stop reaping the consequences for it. You pity him, the innocent, noble causer of so much pain to the heroine. Before he is in the book, he separates Margaret from her parents, because they feel they must keep secrets from her to keep Fredrick safe which then makes them more reserved toward Margaret altogether. While he is staying with Margaret, his presence forced Margaret to push away Thornton and breaks her lover's heart, and even after her brother has left, she has to deal with the murder he committed and the other burdens his coming left on her. What a beautiful, sick mess. I love Elizabeth Gaskell.

Aeneid

When Publius Vergilius Maro- Virgil in common usage -was born in 70 B.C., the Roman Republic was in its last days. In 71 it had just finished suppressing the three-year-long revolt of the slave in Italy, who, organized by Spartacus, a gladiator, had defeated four Roman armies but were finally crushed by Marcus Craassus. Crassus celebrated his victory by crucifying six thousand captured slaves along the Appain Way, the road that ran south from Rome to the Bay of Naples and from there on to Brundisium.

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Aeneid Introduction

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     Why is Virgil is his known name when his real name, Vergilius is spelled with and "e"? That was random, but still think it strange. Virgil was born at the end of the Roman Republic, so it would make sense why he would want to write a book about how great his people were. He wanted a legacy to be left. Something to represent his culture like Homer had done. Virgil lived in a far from perfect world, which is why he could write well about problems in his character's lives. This information about Virgil really gives insight to where he was coming from.

Metaphors

  I’m a riddle in nine syllables,

An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.
Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.
I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there’s no getting off.

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 Sylvia Plath's Metaphors

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     How clever. Writing about metaphors by using metaphors. This is even better. It has a little riddle. A riddle that seems very complex until the answer is revealed. All the metaphors seem unrelated, until the answer is known and then it hits the reader how obvious it is and how the answer could clearly not be anything else. It is the kind of poem that after solving the short problem, everything makes sense. You are probably wondering at this point if I am going to tell you the answer. Well, okay. Spoilers. Plath is talking about being pregnant, but still, the idea of writing about something by doing the something makes me want to get to work on some piece of explanation and example. I think I shall. Thank you Plath for your inspiration, until next time.

Elizabeth and her Come Backs

    "Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no stranger to your younger sister's infamous elopement.... And such a girl to be my nephew's sister?.. Heaven and earth!- of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?""
    "You can now have nothing farther to say," she resentfully answered. "You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house...."
     Her ladyship was highly incensed.
     "You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you, must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?"
     "Lady Catherine, I have nothing farther to say. You know my sentiments."
     "You are then resolved to have him?"
     "I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected to me."

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 Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Volume 3 ch. 56 pg. 338

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     Elizabeth is never in the wrong in this scene. It is the powerful moment when she regrets the mistakes she made with Darcy, so to make up for that, she stands firm to what she feels. She really is not that rude compared to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but she says just enough that to Darcy's aunt, who is use to getting everything just the way she wants it, Elizabeth is revolting. She says just enough to get rid of the person who seeks to prevent Elizabeth's happiness. She says just enough to keep herself from confessing the vulnerable fact that she turned down the man she loves, whom she knows she is unworthy of.
     The character Mr. Collins adds so much more to this scene even though he is not present. The way he always did exactly what Lady Catherine asked of him and begged apologies for doing anything near questionable in her ladyships eyes adds so much more the Elizabeth's reaction. She say how Collins treated Lady de Bourgh, and she, in this moment, refuses to please her. It is not pride. It is not prejudice. It is simply Elizabeth's way of not letting Lady Catherine get away with treating everyone like a doormat.

The Engine

Into the gloom of the deep, dark night,
     With panting breath and a startled scream,
Swift as a bird in sudden flight
     Darts this creature of steel and steam.

Awful dangers are lurking nigh,
     Rocks and chasms are near the track,
But straight by the light of its great white eye
     It speeds through the shadows, dense and black.

Terrible thoughts and fierce desires
     Trouble its mad heart many an hour,
Where burn and smoulder the hidden fires,
     Coupled ever with might and power.

It hates, as a wild horse hates the rein,
     The narrow track by vale and hill;
And shrieks with a cry of startled pain,
     And longs to follow its own wild will.

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 Ella Wheeler Wilcox's The Engine

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     The cinematography in this poem is overwhelming. From the moment the word "deep" is read, the reader is in the moment. He rides on the engine or jumps back as it darts by. The personification of the train, "panting breath and startled scream,""Terrible thoughts and fierce desires," make the engine a real character, one a person could sympathize with. The similes also deepen that picture of what the engine is like: "swift as a bid in sudden flight," "It hates, as a wild horse hates the rein." The engine has personality and feelings as it moves quickly like an animal. Only once does Wilcox use a three syllable word (Terrible), and never is there a four or higher syllable word, which keeps the pace of the reader fast like the train, making the movements of the engine one with that of the readers' eyes. The poem The Engine is largely interactive with the audience, making it a highly enjoyable experience.

The Ides of March

    "Return, Marcus, return to the city which is bending all its eyes upon you.
     The hero whose name you bear live in you, by spirit if not by blood, and his task is on your shoulders.
     Return to the city whose health is your own health and whose freedom is your own freedom. Romans are calling on the name of Brutus and all eyes are bent on you.
     The man against whom Rome's rage is directed is no little man.... The murderer must be equal in stature with the murdered or Rome is twice enslaved.... The hand that strikes him down must be passionless as justice."

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 Thornton Wilder's The Ides of March, Book 4 LVII (pg) 201

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     The women in this book! They are so manipulative! She builds her son up with flattery while putting a huge, ruthless task on his back. She wants him to murder Caesar, and she says he is one of the one men fit for such a "honorable" task. "All eyes are on him." Why? Why does it have to be him? If she wants Caesar dead, she should kill him. If someone else wants Caesar dead, they should kill him. You don't go around convincing other people to kill the people you don't like. Sure Caesar has lots of power, and perhaps a man like Brutus would not reap as much trouble from killing Caesar as someone else would, but in Shakespeare's play, Brutus doesn't turn out so well. His own mother.... His own mother trying to convince him to murder through flattery. How insulting that she would think she could be successful on such an endeavor.

Mr. Collins' Begins

     On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words,
``May I hope, Madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?''
Before Elizabeth had time for any thing but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet instantly answered,
``Oh dear! -- Yes -- certainly. -- I am sure Lizzy will be very happy -- I am sure she can have no objection. -- Come, Kitty, I want you up stairs.'' And gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out,
``Dear Ma'am, do not go. -- I beg you will not go. -- Mr. Collins must excuse me. -- He can have nothing to say to me that any body need not hear. I am going away myself.''
``No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. -- I desire you will stay where you are.''

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 Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Volume 1 ch. 19

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     Jane Austen's tone is so humorous. She catches the reader by surprise, as she does her character Elizabeth, with the unwanted interruption of Mr. Collins. That surprise, and the dragging on of the guessed proposal, makes the situation ironically awkward and entertaining. Mrs. Bennet... she's one of those characters that the reader simply has a love/hate relationship with, for she is forceful and does her best to embarrass Elizabeth continually, but at the same time, she is naive and truly wants her daughter to be married and taken care of. She's so funny in her rushed, bustling manner, another reason why one cannot remain cross with her.
     The additional body in the room, Kitty, one of the younger sisters who does not like Mr. Collins either (so she must feel for Elizabeth), makes for a more tense tone. Elizabeth undoubtedly wants Kitty to stay with her so she does not have to remain alone with Mr. Collins, but Kitty is helplessly dragged out by her mother. Oh the embarrassment! Oh the awkward feels! Oh, so goes the magical world of Jane Austen!

Poetry

But work grew scarce, while bread grew dear,

And wages lessened, too;

For Irish hordes were bidders here,

Our half-paid work to do.

~Corn Law Rhymes                                  

    This poem fits so well into the story or North and South. It gives depth to how the peasants would have felt in such times. It explains how they would go mad: from starvation.
     It's lovely how Gaskell has a poem, even if it is merely a line, starting each of her chapters. I too write poetry every once in a while, mostly thoughts and questions on what to do in this life.

Lost for words. Lost for a sound.

What to do when on the bottom rung?

Is there hope when this low on the ground?

Here where a cursed world left me strung.

If I should die today,

Die, die, die and decay,

Would you turn to my body and say,

Now there someone important lay?

How does one leave a mark on the world?

That is, one worth being reheard.

A story, a gift to the world re-herald,

So it's noticed, and hearts are stirred.

Being the worst you seems to make a mark.

People remember you as "the one with a blackened heart."

But is that where my story must end... or start?

What to do? What to do? But suffer silent in the dark.

 ~Alayna Michelle                                

We Wear the Mask

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,-
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myraid subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!



Need anything be said?
This poem is grand.
Almost as much as the poet.

But to where has it led?
This story doth stand
On more than just one moment.

Truth be told
These words like gold
Created by Paul Dunbar,

Are more than just cold
Truths randomly pulled
That shine like a sky with no star.

Our culture hath made
Us hide all emotion
As though we should be ashamed,

So silently we stayed
Not to make a commotion
But box ourselves to be tamed.

But what is the use
Of standing this abuse
When it only makes us ill?

We must let them loose
There is no excuse
Our feeling must no longer be stilled.

My Misstress' eyes

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
     And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
     As any she belied with false compare.




    Oh William Shakespeare, is there any sort of sonnet you cannot compose? Well, none now because you are dead, but in your lifetime you made ones with beauty and ones with insult. This is of course my favorite. It reminds me a bit of the Taming of the Shrew, one of your plays. Here the lady is harsh and not so beautiful, but there is respect and love found between the husband and wife. I wish I could mimic your poem, but it would only appear as though I mocked, when in fact, I am in love. What can I compare this to, a summer's day? Thank you. Thank you Shakespeare for this piece of priceless humor and depth.