text stringlengths 14 5.77M | meta dict | __index_level_0__ int64 0 9.97k ⌀ |
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{"url":"https:\/\/artofproblemsolving.com\/wiki\/index.php?title=Dedekind_domain&oldid=20925","text":"# Dedekind domain\n\nA Dedekind domain is a commutative integral domain $R$ satisfying the following properties:\n\nDedekind domains are very important in abstract algebra and number theory. For example, the ring of integers of any number field is a Dedekind domain.\n\nThere are several very nice properties of Dedekind domains:\n\n\u2022 Dedekind domains have unique prime factorizations of ideals (but not necessarily of elements).\n\u2022 Ideals are invertible if we extend to fractional ideals. Let $R$ be a Dedekind domain with field of fractions $K$, and let $I$ be any nonzero ideal of $R$. Then set $I^{-1}=\\{a\\in K\\mid aI\\subseteq R\\}$. We call an ideal $I$ invertible if $II^{-1}=R$. (Note that this is always a subset, but it is not always equal unless we are in a Dedekind domain.) In fact, the converse is true as well: if all nonzero ideals are invertible, then $R$ is a Dedekind domain. This is sometimes used as a definition.\n\nThere are also various properties of homological importance that Dedekind domains satisfy.","date":"2021-01-23 02:08:32","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 12, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.862460196018219, \"perplexity\": 110.85581284549367}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2021-04\/segments\/1610703531702.36\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20210123001629-20210123031629-00376.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
#ifndef DIRECT_SHORTEST_PATH_HPP
#define DIRECT_SHORTEST_PATH_HPP
#include "engine/algorithm.hpp"
#include "engine/datafacade.hpp"
#include "engine/internal_route_result.hpp"
#include "engine/search_engine_data.hpp"
#include "util/typedefs.hpp"
namespace osrm
{
namespace engine
{
namespace routing_algorithms
{
/// This is a stripped down version of the general shortest path algorithm.
/// The general algorithm always computes two queries for each leg. This is only
/// necessary in case of vias, where the directions of the start node is constrained
/// by the previous route.
/// This variation is only an optimization for graphs with slow queries, for example
/// not fully contracted graphs.
template <typename Algorithm>
InternalRouteResult directShortestPathSearch(SearchEngineData<Algorithm> &engine_working_data,
const DataFacade<Algorithm> &facade,
const PhantomEndpointCandidates &endpoint_candidates);
} // namespace routing_algorithms
} // namespace engine
} // namespace osrm
#endif /* DIRECT_SHORTEST_PATH_HPP */
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 2,760 |
Charlot Salwai, né le , est un homme d'État vanuatais, Premier ministre de Vanuatu de février 2016 à avril 2020.
Biographie
Originaire de l'île de Pentecôte, Charlot Salwai fait partie de la minorité francophone du pays.
Études
Il effectue sa scolarité dans un collège technique en Nouvelle-Calédonie, puis au lycée Blaise Pascal de ce même pays, dans les années 1980. À l'issue du secondaire, il ne poursuit pas d'études supérieures et entre directement dans la vie active.
Haut-fonctionnaire et député
Charlot Salwai est employé comme comptable par plusieurs institutions de son pays, dont la banque de développement entre 1987 et 1991. De 1991 à 1995, il est secrétaire privé du Premier ministre Maxime Carlot Korman. Il occupe ensuite une série de postes administratifs ou de conseiller dans divers ministères de 1996 à 2002. En 2002, il est élu député de l'île de Pentecôte au Parlement national, sous l'étiquette de l'Union des partis modérés (parti francophone de centre-droit). Il conserve son siège lors des élections législatives de 2004, 2008, 2012 et 2016. En 2012, il quitte l'UPM, et participe à la fondation du parti Mouvement de réunification pour le changement, composé d'autres transfuges de l'UPM.
Le Premier ministre Serge Vohor (UPM) le nomme ministre du Commerce en juillet 2004, puis ministre des Terres et des ressources naturelles d'août à décembre 2004. À la suite de la chute du gouvernement Vohor en décembre, Charlot Salwai est élu vice-chef de l'opposition parlementaire, face au gouvernement de Ham Lini (issue de la gauche anglophone). En septembre 2008, Edward Natapei, du Vanua'aku Pati, est élu Premier ministre à la tête d'un large gouvernement de coalition et nomme Salwai ministre de l'Éducation. En novembre 2012, le Premier ministre Sato Kilman le nomme ministre des Finances. En mars 2013, le gouvernement Kilman perd le pouvoir et Charlot Salwai devient chief whip de l'opposition parlementaire. En mai 2014, le nouveau Premier ministre Joe Natuman le nomme ministre de l'Intérieur. Il conserve ce poste jusqu'à la chute du gouvernement Natuman en juin 2015.
Fonctions de chef gouvernemental
Le 11 février 2016, à la suite d'élections législatives, les députés le portent à la tête d'un large gouvernement de coalition, bien que son parti (RMC) n'ait que trois sièges au Parlement. Il est perçu comme un candidat de compromis entre les partis nationalistes, principalement anglophones, et les partis francophones de centre-droit.
Le 3 février 2021, Charlot Salwai est condamné à deux ans et trois mois de prison avec sursis pour parjure, et perd de ce fait son siège de député au Parlement. Le président de la République Tallis Obed Moses lui accorde en septembre la grâce présidentielle, en même temps qu'à deux autres anciens Premiers ministres : Joe Natuman, condamné en 2018 pour entrave à la justice, et Serge Vohor, condamné en 2015 pour corruption et entrave à la justice, emprisonné durant dix-huit mois et que le précédent président, Baldwin Lonsdale, avait refusé par principe de gracier.
Références
Personnalité politique vanuatuane
Naissance en avril 1963
Premier ministre du Vanuatu
Ministre vanuatais des Finances
Ministre vanuatais de l'Intérieur | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 2,260 |
package org.jruby.rack;
import org.jruby.Ruby;
import org.jruby.RubyInstanceConfig;
import org.jruby.exceptions.RaiseException;
import org.jruby.javasupport.JavaUtil;
import org.jruby.rack.servlet.ServletRackContext;
import org.jruby.runtime.ThreadContext;
import org.jruby.runtime.builtin.IRubyObject;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.io.InputStream;
import java.io.InputStreamReader;
import java.io.Reader;
import java.io.File;
import java.net.URISyntaxException;
import java.net.URL;
import java.util.*;
import java.util.regex.Matcher;
import java.util.regex.Pattern;
/**
*
* @author nicksieger
*/
public class DefaultRackApplicationFactory implements RackApplicationFactory {
private String rackupScript, rackupLocation;
private ServletRackContext rackContext;
private RubyInstanceConfig defaultConfig;
private RackApplication errorApplication;
public void init(RackContext rackContext) {
this.rackContext = (ServletRackContext) rackContext;
this.rackupScript = findRackupScript();
this.defaultConfig = createDefaultConfig();
rackContext.log(defaultConfig.getVersionString());
}
public RackApplication newApplication() throws RackInitializationException {
return createApplication(new ApplicationObjectFactory() {
public IRubyObject create(Ruby runtime) {
return createApplicationObject(runtime);
}
});
}
public RackApplication getApplication() throws RackInitializationException {
RackApplication app = newApplication();
app.init();
return app;
}
public void finishedWithApplication(RackApplication app) {
app.destroy();
}
public synchronized RackApplication getErrorApplication() {
if (errorApplication == null) {
errorApplication = newErrorApplication();
}
return errorApplication;
}
public void destroy() {
if (errorApplication != null) {
errorApplication.destroy();
errorApplication = null;
}
}
public RackContext getRackContext() {
return rackContext;
}
public IRubyObject createApplicationObject(Ruby runtime) {
if (rackupScript == null) {
rackContext.log("WARNING: no rackup script found. Starting empty Rack application.");
rackupScript = "";
}
return createRackServletWrapper(runtime, rackupScript);
}
public IRubyObject createErrorApplicationObject(Ruby runtime) {
return createRackServletWrapper(runtime, "run JRuby::Rack::ErrorsApp.new");
}
public RackApplication newErrorApplication() {
try {
RackApplication app =
createApplication(new ApplicationObjectFactory() {
public IRubyObject create(Ruby runtime) {
return createErrorApplicationObject(runtime);
}
});
app.init();
return app;
} catch (final Exception e) {
rackContext.log(
"Warning: error application could not be initialized", e);
return new RackApplication() {
public void init() throws RackInitializationException { }
public RackResponse call(RackEnvironment env) {
return new RackResponse() {
public int getStatus() { return 500; }
public Map getHeaders() { return Collections.EMPTY_MAP; }
public String getBody() {
return "Application initialization failed: "
+ e.getMessage();
}
public void respond(RackResponseEnvironment response) {
try {
response.defaultRespond(this);
} catch (IOException ex) {
rackContext.log("Error writing body", ex);
}
}
};
}
public void destroy() { }
public Ruby getRuntime() { throw new UnsupportedOperationException("not supported"); }
};
}
}
protected IRubyObject createRackServletWrapper(Ruby runtime, String rackup) {
return runtime.executeScript("load 'jruby/rack/boot/rack.rb';"
+"Rack::Handler::Servlet.new(Rack::Builder.new {( "
+ rackup + "\n )}.to_app)",
rackupLocation);
}
private interface ApplicationObjectFactory {
IRubyObject create(Ruby runtime);
}
private RubyInstanceConfig createDefaultConfig() {
setupJRubyManagement();
final RubyInstanceConfig config = new RubyInstanceConfig();
config.setLoader(Thread.currentThread().getContextClassLoader());
// Process arguments, namely any that might be in RUBYOPT
config.processArguments(rackContext.getConfig().getRuntimeArguments());
if (rackContext.getConfig().getCompatVersion() != null) {
config.setCompatVersion(rackContext.getConfig().getCompatVersion());
}
try { // try to set jruby home to jar file path
URL resource = RubyInstanceConfig.class.getResource("/META-INF/jruby.home");
if (resource.getProtocol().equals("jar")) {
String home;
try { // http://weblogs.java.net/blog/2007/04/25/how-convert-javaneturl-javaiofile
home = resource.toURI().getSchemeSpecificPart();
} catch (URISyntaxException urise) {
home = resource.getPath();
}
// Trim trailing slash. It confuses OSGi containers...
if (home.endsWith("/")) {
home = home.substring(0, home.length() - 1);
}
config.setJRubyHome(home);
}
} catch (Exception e) { }
return config;
}
private void initializeRuntime(Ruby runtime) throws RackInitializationException {
try {
IRubyObject context = JavaUtil.convertJavaToRuby(runtime, rackContext);
runtime.getGlobalVariables().set("$servlet_context", context);
if (rackContext.getConfig().isIgnoreEnvironment()) {
runtime.evalScriptlet("ENV.clear");
}
runtime.evalScriptlet("require 'rack/handler/servlet'");
} catch (RaiseException re) {
throw new RackInitializationException(re);
}
}
/** This method is only public for unit tests */
public Ruby newRuntime() throws RackInitializationException {
Ruby runtime = Ruby.newInstance(defaultConfig);
initializeRuntime(runtime);
return runtime;
}
private RackApplication createApplication(final ApplicationObjectFactory appfact)
throws RackInitializationException {
try {
final Ruby runtime = newRuntime();
return new DefaultRackApplication() {
@Override
public void init() throws RackInitializationException {
try {
setApplication(appfact.create(runtime));
} catch (RaiseException re) {
captureMessage(re);
throw new RackInitializationException(re);
}
}
@Override
public void destroy() {
runtime.tearDown(false);
}
};
} catch (RackInitializationException rie) {
throw rie;
} catch (RaiseException re) {
throw new RackInitializationException(re);
}
}
private void captureMessage(RaiseException rex) {
try {
IRubyObject rubyException = rex.getException();
ThreadContext context = rubyException.getRuntime().getCurrentContext();
rubyException.callMethod(context, "capture");
rubyException.callMethod(context, "store");
} catch (Exception e) {
// won't be able to capture anything
}
}
private String findConfigRuPathInSubDirectories(String path, int level) {
Set entries = rackContext.getResourcePaths(path);
if (entries != null) {
if (entries.contains(path + "config.ru")) {
return path + "config.ru";
}
if (level > 0) {
level--;
for (Iterator i = entries.iterator(); i.hasNext(); ) {
String subpath = (String) i.next();
if (subpath.endsWith("/")) {
subpath = findConfigRuPathInSubDirectories(subpath, level);
if (subpath != null) {
return subpath;
}
}
}
}
}
return null;
}
private static final Pattern CODING = Pattern.compile("coding:\\s*(\\S+)");
private String inputStreamToString(InputStream stream) {
if (stream == null) {
return null;
}
try {
StringBuilder str = new StringBuilder();
int c = stream.read();
Reader reader;
String coding = "UTF-8";
if (c == '#') { // look for a coding: pragma
str.append((char) c);
while ((c = stream.read()) != -1 && c != 10) {
str.append((char) c);
}
Matcher m = CODING.matcher(str.toString());
if (m.find()) {
coding = m.group(1);
}
}
str.append((char) c);
reader = new InputStreamReader(stream, coding);
while ((c = reader.read()) != -1) {
str.append((char) c);
}
return str.toString();
} catch (Exception e) {
rackContext.log("Error reading rackup input", e);
return null;
}
}
private String findRackupScript() {
rackupLocation = "<web.xml>";
String rackup = rackContext.getConfig().getRackup();
if (rackup != null) {
return rackup;
}
rackup = rackContext.getConfig().getRackupPath();
if (rackup == null) {
rackup = findConfigRuPathInSubDirectories("/WEB-INF/", 1);
}
if (rackup == null) { // google-appengine gem prefers it at /config.ru
// appengine misses "/" resources. Search for it directly.
File f = new File(rackContext.getRealPath("/config.ru"));
if (f.exists()){
rackup = "/config.ru";
}
}
if (rackup != null) {
rackupLocation = rackContext.getRealPath(rackup);
rackup = inputStreamToString(rackContext.getResourceAsStream(rackup));
}
return rackup;
}
private void setupJRubyManagement() {
if (!"false".equalsIgnoreCase(System.getProperty("jruby.management.enabled"))) {
System.setProperty("jruby.management.enabled", "true");
}
}
/** Used only by unit tests */
public void setErrorApplication(RackApplication app) {
this.errorApplication = app;
}
/** Used only by unit tests */
public String getRackupScript() {
return rackupScript;
}
}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 2,189 |
<html>
<body>
This package exists to contain snippets for documentation.
</body>
</html> | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 4,077 |
{"url":"http:\/\/experiment-ufa.ru\/(3.2-b)*b=2.56","text":"# (3.2-b)*b=2.56\n\n## Simple and best practice solution for (3.2-b)*b=2.56 equation. Check how easy it is, and learn it for the future. Our solution is simple, and easy to understand, so dont hesitate to use it as a solution of your homework.\n\nIf it's not what You are looking for type in the equation solver your own equation and let us solve it.\n\n## Solution for (3.2-b)*b=2.56 equation:\n\nSimplifying\n(3.2 + -1b) * b = 2.56\nReorder the terms for easier multiplication:\nb(3.2 + -1b) = 2.56\n(3.2 * b + -1b * b) = 2.56\n(3.2b + -1b2) = 2.56\nSolving\n3.2b + -1b2 = 2.56\nSolving for variable 'b'.\nReorder the terms:\n-2.56 + 3.2b + -1b2 = 2.56 + -2.56\nCombine like terms: 2.56 + -2.56 = 0.00\n-2.56 + 3.2b + -1b2 = 0.00\nBegin completing the square. Divide all terms by\n-1 the coefficient of the squared term:\nDivide each side by '-1'.\n2.56 + -3.2b + b2 = 0.00\nMove the constant term to the right:\nAdd '-2.56' to each side of the equation.\n2.56 + -3.2b + -2.56 + b2 = 0.00 + -2.56\nReorder the terms:\n2.56 + -2.56 + -3.2b + b2 = 0.00 + -2.56\nCombine like terms: 2.56 + -2.56 = 0.00\n0.00 + -3.2b + b2 = 0.00 + -2.56\n-3.2b + b2 = 0.00 + -2.56\nCombine like terms: 0.00 + -2.56 = -2.56\n-3.2b + b2 = -2.56\nThe b term is -3.2b. Take half its coefficient (-1.6).\nSquare it (2.56) and add it to both sides.\nAdd '2.56' to each side of the equation.\n-3.2b + 2.56 + b2 = -2.56 + 2.56\nReorder the terms:\n2.56 + -3.2b + b2 = -2.56 + 2.56\nCombine like terms: -2.56 + 2.56 = 0.00\n2.56 + -3.2b + b2 = 0.00\nFactor a perfect square on the left side:\n(b + -1.6)(b + -1.6) = 0.00\nCalculate the square root of the right side: 0.00\nBreak this problem into two subproblems by setting\n(b + -1.6) equal to 0.00 and 0.00.\nSubproblem 1b + -1.6 = 0.00\nSimplifying\nb + -1.6 = 0.00\nReorder the terms:\n-1.6 + b = 0.00\nSolving\n-1.6 + b = 0.00\nSolving for variable 'b'.\nMove all terms containing b to the left, all other terms to the right.\nAdd '1.6' to each side of the equation.\n-1.6 + 1.6 + b = 0.00 + 1.6\nCombine like terms: -1.6 + 1.6 = 0.0\n0.0 + b = 0.00 + 1.6\nb = 0.00 + 1.6\nCombine like terms: 0.00 + 1.6 = 1.6\nb = 1.6\nSimplifying\nb = 1.6\nSubproblem 2b + -1.6 = 0.00\nSimplifying\nb + -1.6 = 0.00\nReorder the terms:\n-1.6 + b = 0.00\nSolving\n-1.6 + b = 0.00\nSolving for variable 'b'.\nMove all terms containing b to the left, all other terms to the right.\nAdd '1.6' to each side of the equation.\n-1.6 + 1.6 + b = 0.00 + 1.6\nCombine like terms: -1.6 + 1.6 = 0.0\n0.0 + b = 0.00 + 1.6\nb = 0.00 + 1.6\nCombine like terms: 0.00 + 1.6 = 1.6\nb = 1.6\nSimplifying\nb = 1.6\nSolutionThe solution to the problem is based on the solutions\nfrom the subproblems.\nb = {1.6, 1.6}`","date":"2018-01-22 04:07:39","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.28932681679725647, \"perplexity\": 3201.133981315129}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2018-05\/segments\/1516084890991.69\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20180122034327-20180122054327-00300.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
{"url":"http:\/\/www.ibsurvival.com\/topic\/30281-hypergeometric-distribution-question\/","text":"#### Archived\n\nThis topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.\n\n# Hypergeometric distribution question\n\nI am just wondering if i can use hypergeometric distribution in a certain way. Lets say there are 10 balls in a basket: 5 blue, 3 green, 2 red. I am going to pick out 4, and i want to find the probability of picking out 2 reds, 1 green and 1 blue, in any order. So it could be RGRB, or BRRG, etc.\n\nCould i find the probability by first finding the probability of getting 2 reds out of 4 picks using hypergeometric distribution, then 1 green out of 4, and then 1 blue out of 4. Then i would add the probabilities together?\n\nIt would be great if anyone could help me out, thanks!\n\n##### Share on other sites\n\nThe hypergeometric distribution isn't even in the syllabus, but for the multivariate hypergeometric distribution, given a population of $N$, a sample size of $n$, a number of \"types\" of objects of $k$, the types denotes $y_i$, with $M_i$ objects for each type,\n$P(y_1=x_1, y_2=x_2,... y_k=x_k)=\\frac{{M_1 \\choose x_1}{M_2 \\choose x_2}...{M_k \\choose x_k}}{{N \\choose n}}$\n\nwhere $\\Sigma x_i =n,$ and $\\Sigma M_i =N.$\n$N=10, n=4, M_b=5, M_g=3, M_r=2, x_b=1, x_g=1, x_r=2$\n$P(b=1, g=1, r=2)=\\frac{{5 \\choose 1}{3 \\choose 1}{2 \\choose 2}}{{10 \\choose 4}}$\n$=\\frac{15}{210}$\n$=7.143\\%.$\nYou can't add the probabilities because they are not mutually exclusive events, so if you add them together given another case (for your case the result is less than 1) the probability would be greater than 1.\nYou can't directly multiply the probabilities because that way you would be counting each of the cases multiple times. For example for calculating P(r=2) you get $\\frac{{2 \\choose 2}{ 8 \\choose 2}}{{10 \\choose 4}}$, where $8 \\choose 2$ should actually be $5\\choose 1$ and $3 \\choose 1$ which will be counted later when calculating P(b=1) and P(g=1).\n\nAlso: Checked the Pearson option 7 book (which features the hypergeometric distribution although it's not in the syllabus) to be sure, apparently their answer to 2.3-7a ii(a very similar question) is wrong as it applies for r1g1b2 instead of r1g2b1 as the question requests.\n\nEDIT:\n\nFor LaTeX tags, you don't need to have a $sign. You're also using the wrong slash sign, \\tex is what you're looking for. $Example$ So THAT's why... haven't been using \/tex on html for a loooong time and I totally forgot how to use it. #### Share this post ##### Link to post ##### Share on other sites -snip- For LaTeX tags, you don't need to have a$ sign. You're also using the wrong slash sign, \\tex is what you're looking for.\n\n$Example$","date":"2016-10-28 15:56:25","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 18, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.8438813090324402, \"perplexity\": 418.6051462384013}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2016-44\/segments\/1476988722951.82\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20161020183842-00382-ip-10-171-6-4.ec2.internal.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
Without patients or staff, Madrid opens new $119M hospital
by: IAIN SULLIVAN and ARITZ PARRA, Associated Press
Posted: Dec 1, 2020 / 07:42 AM CST / Updated: Dec 1, 2020 / 09:24 AM CST
A security guard walks in the empty Isabel Zendal new hospital during the official opening in Madrid, Spain, Tuesday, Dec. 1, 2020. Authorities in Madrid are holding a ceremony to open part of a 1,000-bed hospital for emergencies that critics say is no more than a vanity project, a building with beds not ready to receive patients and unnecessary now that contagion and hospitalizations are waning. Spain has officially logged 1.6 million infections and over 45,000 deaths confirmed for COVID-19 since the beginning of the year. (AP Photo/Paul White)
MADRID (AP) — Authorities in Spain's capital on Tuesday held a ceremony to open part of a 1,000-bed emergency hospital for COVID-19 patients that critics say is no more than a vanity project, a building with beds not ready to receive patients and unnecessary now that the virus resurgence and hospitalizations are waning.
Around 200 health professionals gathered Tuesday at the entrance of the Nurse Isabel Zendal Hospital in Madrid as officials entered the state-of-the-art facility, built in 100 days at a cost of 100 million euros ($119 million), twice the original budget.
Health workers' unions criticized the project, saying the investment should have gone instead to shoring up an existing public health system run down by years of spending cuts.
Only one of four wings of the 80,000-square-meter (nearly 20-acre) hospital — equivalent to around 10 soccer fields — is set to open initially with 240 beds, although the regional government so far has only enlisted as volunteers about one-sixth of the workers needed.
Madrid's regional president, Isabel Díaz Ayuso, said the hospital is the first of its kind in Europe and that it will help alleviate pressure in other public hospitals by focusing on COVID-19 patients.
"I'm sorry for the criticism. We are saving lives," Díaz Ayuso said, adding that its location, near the Spanish capital's international airport, will also be an advantage in assuring visitors that the city is safe. "A great public hospital cannot be bad news for anyone."
The conservative regional leader has been the fiercest critic of how the leftist national government, led by Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, has handled the pandemic, constantly objecting to preventative measures and advocating restrictions that try to preserve economic activity.
Although scientists say that heightened caution and the fear factor might have played a major role, the region's 14-day infection rate has dropped from 500-plus cases per 100,000 inhabitants in October to 236 on Monday, below the national average of 275.
While Díaz Ayuso was accompanied Tuesday by Popular Party leader and head of the opposition, Pablo Casado, the health minister, Salvador Illa, had declined an invitation to attend saying he was already busy. No left-wing national or regional politician attended Tuesday's ceremony.
The new facility is inspired by Madrid's experience with a makeshift hospital set up in an exhibition center back in the spring, when hospitals in the region of 6.6 million were overwhelmed. That move also brought both criticism and praise.
Governments across Europe launched similar projects with different results. In Britain, seven temporary hospitals in convention centers and other venues were named the "Nightingale" hospitals after nursing pioneer Florence Nightingale — similar to Madrid's Isabel Zendal. But they ended up treating only a handful of patients. They were kept on standby, and the Nightingale hospital in Manchester recently began admitting patients again. The government is considering using the others as coronavirus vaccination centers.
In Spain, Díaz Ayuso hopes personnel from other hospitals will come to her new hospital voluntarily, but she hasn't explained what the already strained centers they come from will do with fewer staff.
"This is nothing different to the construction of the pyramids of Egypt," Rosa López, a spokeswoman with the SummAT emergency health workers' union, told Spanish public television TVE. Referring to the regional chief, she said: "The only thing that is intended here is glory for a woman who has had no capacity for empathy with citizens, much less with health workers."
Spain has officially logged 1.6 million infections and over 45,000 deaths confirmed for COVID-19 since the beginning of the year.
AP reporter Jill Lawless in London contributed to this report.
Follow AP's coverage at https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic and https://apnews.com/UnderstandingtheOutbreak
More For Your Health Stories
BEIRUT (AP) — Authorities in Lebanon on Thursday extended a nationwide lockdown by a week, to Feb. 8, amid a steep rise in coronavirus deaths and infections that has overwhelmed the health care system.
Despite increasing the number of hospital beds in the country of nearly 6 million, doctors and nurses have struggled to keep pace with patients flooding their facilities. Intensive care unit bed occupancy has been rising, hitting 91% late Wednesday, according to the World Health Organization.
Germany's Merkel points to variant risk as infections drop
BERLIN (AP) — Germany is seeing a promising decline in new coronavirus infections, but must take "very seriously" the risk posed by a more contagious variant and will have to be cautious whenever it starts easing its lockdown, Chancellor Angela Merkel said Thursday.
Merkel and Germany's 16 state governors on Tuesday decided to extend the country's lockdown by two weeks until Feb. 14 and tighten some measures, for example requiring surgical masks — rather than just fabric face coverings — in shops and on public transportation.
Weather / 1 hour ago | {
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@interface ViewController ()
{
BOOL isOne;
BOOL isTwo;
BOOL isThree;
BOOL isFour;
}
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIView *alertView;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIView *view1;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIView *view2;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIView *view3;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIView *view4;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIButton *btn1;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIButton *btn2;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIButton *btn3;
@property (weak, nonatomic) IBOutlet UIButton *btn4;
@end
@implementation ViewController
- (void)viewDidLoad {
[super viewDidLoad];
[self.view setFrame:[UIScreen mainScreen].bounds];
self.view.backgroundColor = [UIColor clearColor];
[self.view1 setHidden:YES];
[self.view2 setHidden:YES];
[self.view3 setHidden:YES];
[self.view4 setHidden:YES];
self.alertView.layer.masksToBounds = YES;
[self.btn1 addTarget:self action:@selector(btn1Touch) forControlEvents:UIControlEventTouchUpInside];
[self.btn2 addTarget:self action:@selector(btn2Touch) forControlEvents:UIControlEventTouchUpInside];
[self.btn3 addTarget:self action:@selector(btn3Touch) forControlEvents:UIControlEventTouchUpInside];
[self.btn4 addTarget:self action:@selector(btn4Touch) forControlEvents:UIControlEventTouchUpInside];
[self animatedIn];
}
- (void)animatedIn {
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformMakeScale(0.6, 0.6);
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.2 animations:^{
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformMakeScale(1.1, 1.1);
}
completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:1.0 / 15.0 animations:^{
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformMakeScale(0.9, 0.9);
}
completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:1.0 / 7.5 animations:^{
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformIdentity;
}];
}];
}];
}
- (void)btn1Touch {
for (NSLayoutConstraint *constraint in self.view1.superview.constraints) {
if (constraint.firstItem == self.view1 && constraint.firstAttribute == NSLayoutAttributeTop) {
if (isOne) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant - (self.view1.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view1 setHidden:YES];
isOne = !isOne;
}];
}
else {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant + (self.view1.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view1 setHidden:NO];
isOne = !isOne;
}];
}
}
}
}
- (void)btn2Touch {
for (NSLayoutConstraint *constraint in self.view2.superview.constraints) {
if (constraint.firstItem == self.view2 && constraint.firstAttribute == NSLayoutAttributeTop) {
if (isTwo) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant - (self.view2.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view2 setHidden:YES];
isTwo = !isTwo;
}];
}
else {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant + (self.view2.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view2 setHidden:NO];
isTwo = !isTwo;
}];
}
}
}
}
- (void)btn3Touch {
for (NSLayoutConstraint *constraint in self.view3.superview.constraints) {
if (constraint.firstItem == self.view3 && constraint.firstAttribute == NSLayoutAttributeTop) {
if (isThree) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant - (self.view3.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view3 setHidden:YES];
isThree = !isThree;
}];
}
else {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant + (self.view3.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view3 setHidden:NO];
isThree = !isThree;
}];
}
}
}
}
- (void)btn4Touch {
for (NSLayoutConstraint *constraint in self.view4.superview.constraints) {
if (constraint.firstItem == self.view4 && constraint.firstAttribute == NSLayoutAttributeTop) {
if (isFour) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant - (self.view4.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view4 setHidden:YES];
isFour = !isFour;
}];
}
else {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
constraint.constant = constraint.constant + (self.view4.frame.size.height);
[self.view layoutIfNeeded];
} completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view4 setHidden:NO];
isFour = !isFour;
}];
}
}
}
}
- (void)animatedOut {
[UIView animateWithDuration:1.0 / 7.5 animations:^{
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformMakeScale(0.9, 0.9);
}
completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:1.0 / 15.0 animations:^{
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformMakeScale(1.1, 1.1);
}
completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[UIView animateWithDuration:0.3 animations:^{
self.view.transform = CGAffineTransformMakeScale(0.01, 0.01);
self.view.alpha = 0.3;
}
completion:^(BOOL finished) {
[self.view removeFromSuperview];
}];
}];
}];
}
- (void)touchesBegan:(NSSet *)touches withEvent:(UIEvent *)event
{
[self animatedOut];
}
@end
| {
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} | 8,001 |
Help kids heal from life's hurts!
In the mid-1950s, medical professionals began noticing the therapeutic benefits of working with horses. Today, studies show that equine assisted activities help kids develop physical strength, self-awareness, trust, confidence, verbal and nonverbal communication skills, and tools for working through anxiety.
In 2018, we paused and evaluated our equine program. Well, we are ready to get this program running again. The levels of depth and introspection our kids develop in Equine Programs will last far beyond their chapter at Cookson Hills. We have watched kids transform from timid and fearful children to mindful and brave young adults. We have witnessed kids who were disconnected build strong connections with "their" horse and strengthen their own identity.
In order for us to restart and run this program, we need $40,000. This will help us cover horse care, equipment, upkeep of the facilities, and a new staff member who will bring this program back to life!
If you've never given directly to Cookson Hills before, a generous donor has agreed to match your gift- dollar for dollar- up to $20,000!
So join us! Together, we can guide these kids to become healthy individuals who are empowered to positively impact future generations. Will you help us reach our goal of raising $40,000? | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
} | 2,870 |
Q: No animation when using CSSTransition and Group Transition in Reactjs In REACTJS, I am working with creating a simple App that contains Transitions. I have imported CSSTransitions and Group Transition in my file but when I am trying to apply CSSTransition for some of my news item but I am not getting the animation. It is as if it doesn't even exist.
I can see that my items are wrapped inside the component, but I cannot get them to animate.
Could someone please help me figure out what I'm doing wrong?
import React, { Component } from 'react';
import {CSSTransition, TransitionGroup} from 'react-transition-group';
import {Link} from 'react-router-dom';
import Axios from 'axios';
import {URL} from '../../../Config';
import styles from './NewsList.module.css';
export default class NewsList extends Component {
state={
items:[],
start: this.props.start,
end: this.props.start+this.props.amount,
amount: this.props.amount
}
componentWillMount(){
this.request(this.state.start,this.state.end)
}
request=(start,end)=>{
Axios.get(`${URL}/articles?_start=${start}&_end=${end}`)
.then(response=>{
this.setState({
items:[...this.state.items,...response.data]
})
})
}
loadMore=()=>{
let end = this.state.end + this.state.amount
this.request(this.state.end, end)
}
renderNews=(type)=>{
let template= null;
switch(type){
case('Card'):
template= this.state.items.map((item, i)=>(
<CSSTransition
classNames={{
enter: styles.newList_wrapper,
enterActive: styles.newList_wrapper_enter
}}
timeout= {500}
key={i}
>
<div>
<div className={styles.newslist_item}>
<Link to={`/articles/${item.id}`}>
<h2>{item.title}</h2>
</Link>
</div>
</div>
</CSSTransition>
)
);
break;
default:
template = null;
}
return template;
}
render() {
return (
<div>
<TransitionGroup
component="div"
className="list"
>
{this.renderNews(this.props.type)}
</TransitionGroup>
<div onClick={this.loadMore}>
Load More
</div>
</div>
);
}
}
.newslist_item{
border: 1px solid #f2f2f2;
background: #ffffff;
margin-top: 0px;
padding: 8px 5px 0 5px;
}
.newslist_item h2{
font-size: 13px;
line-height: 21px;
margin: 5px 0;
color: #525252
}
.newslist_item a {
text-decoration:none;
}
.newsList_wrapper{
box-sizing: border-box;
opacity: 0;
transform: translateX(-100%);
transition: all .5s ease-in;
}
.newsList_wrapper_enter{
opacity: 1;
transform: translateX(0%);
}
<script src="https://cdnjs.cloudflare.com/ajax/libs/react/16.6.3/umd/react.production.min.js"></script>
<script src="https://cdnjs.cloudflare.com/ajax/libs/react-dom/16.6.3/umd/react-dom.production.min.js"></script>
A: classNames={{
enter: **styles.newsList_wrapper**,
enterActive: **styles.newsList_wrapper_enter**
There was a typo with the classnames. An S was missing.
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
} | 9,785 |
Q: Specify knitr chunk options from external R script I currently render Rmarkdown documents in an external .R file using rmarkdown::render(). This allows me to dynamically specify YAML params as well as allow me to take advantage of knitr caching options by calling render repeatedly as needed. What I can't seem to figure out is how to specify knitr chunk options, both global and specific, from within the same external R script. Any advice on how to do this would be very helpful! Thanks in advance.
I tried specifying knitr options using render(params = myParamsList); however, this only works for YAML front matter.
A: You can use R variables in chunk options, so this would work:
---
title: "Untitled"
date: "2022-12-31"
output: html_document
params:
default.fig.width: 5
special.fig.width: 4
---
```{r setup, include=FALSE}
knitr::opts_chunk$set(echo = TRUE, fig.width = params$default.fig.width)
```
This one gets the default width from `params$default.fig.width`:
```{r}
plot(1)
```
This one gets the special width from `params$special.fig.width`:
```{r fig.width = params$special.fig.width}
plot(2)
```
This one ignores the parameters:
```{r fig.width = 3}
plot(3)
```
Use rmarkdown::render("Untitled.Rmd", params = list(default.fig.width = 3)) to set the default plot width to a smaller width, but leave the special one alone.
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
} | 6,587 |
Daniel Kaluuya (* 24. února 1989 Londýn, Anglie, Spojené království) je britský herec a scenárista, který získal nominace na Oscara, Zlatý glóbus, Cenu Sdružení filmových a televizních herců a Filmovou cenu Britské akademie v kategoriích nejlepší mužský herecký výkon za roli Chrise Washingtona ve filmu Uteč (2017). V roce 2018 vyhrál cenu BAFTA v kategorii objev roku. V roce 2021 získal Oscara za nejlepší mužský výkon ve vedlejší roli.
Svojí kariéru však zahájil v divadle. Za roli v divadelní hře Sucker Punch získal ceny Evening Standard Award a Critics' Circle Theatre Award. Proslavil se však až díky výkonu v jednom z dílů seriálu Černé zrcadlo. Poté hrál Michaela Fryho v komediálním seriálu stanice BBC Psychoville a roli Michaela Armstronga v hororovém dramatickém seriálu stanice BBC Three The Fades. V roce 2011 se objevil v roli agenta Colina Tuckera ve filmu Johnny English se vrací a v roce 2013 v roli Blacka Deatha ve filmu Kick-Ass 2. V roce 2015 získal vedlejší roli ve filmu Denise Villeneuveho Sicario: Nájemný vrah. V roce 2018 představoval W'Kabiho v úspěšném filmu Ryana Cooglera Black Panther a objevil se ve filmu režiséra Steveho McQueena Vdovy. V roce 2021 ztvárnil Freda Hamptona, Černého pantera, ve snímku Judas and the Black Messiah. Za svůj výkon vyhrál Oscara, Zlatý glóbus a například cenu BAFTA.
Životopis a kariéra
Kaluuya se narodil v roce 1989 v Londýně, je synem ugandských imigrantů. Navštěvoval chlapeckou školu St Aloysius College v Londýně.
V roce 006 se poprvé objevil v roli Reece v dramatickém filmu Shoot the Messenger. Připojil se k obsazení seriálu Skins. Pro seriál také pracoval jako pomocný scenárista a napsal scénář k jednomu dílu druhé řady "Jal" a ve třetí řadě napsal scénář k dílu "Thomas". Po seriálu Skins se objevil v několika hostujících rolích v seriálech jako Tichý svědek, ve speciálu Pána času: Planeta mrtvých a nebo Lewis. Dvakrát vystoupil ve sketchové show Mitchell and Webb Look a v show Harry and Paul. Svůj hlas propůjčil do rádiového sitcomu Sneakiepeeks.
V roce 2009 získal jednu z hlavních rolí v komedii stanice ITV FM a roli v komedii stanice BBC Psychoville. Na konci roku 2009 by jmenován magazínem Screen International jedním z budoucích hvězd Spojeného království. V roce 2010 si zahrál hlavní roli ve produkci Roye Williamse Sucker Punch v Divadle Royal Court v Londýně. Za roli získal cenu Evening Standard Award a Critics' Circle Theatre Award v kategoriích Nejlepší nováčkovský výkon.
V roce 2011 si zahrál hlavní roli v krátkometrážním filmu Daniela Mulloye Dítě, který získal cenu v kategorii nejlepší krátkometrážní film na Filmovém festivalu v Edinburghu a ceenu British Independent Film Award. V roce 2011 si zahrál v divadelní hře Chatroom. Zahrál si agenta Tuckera ve filmu Johnny English se vrací a roli Maca Armstronga v dramatu The Fades. Jednu z hlavních postav si zahrál v epizodě seriálu Černé zrcadlo. V září 2015 si zahrál FBI agenta Reggieho Wayne ve filmu Sicario: Nájemný vrah. 24. února 2017 měl premiéru hororový snímek Uteč, ve kterém hraje hlavní roli Chrise Washingtona. V prosinci 2016 byl obsazen do marvelovského filmu Black Panther, který měl premiéru v únoru 2018.
Filmografie
Film
Televize
Divadlo
Odkazy
Reference
Externí odkazy
Angličtí televizní herci
Angličtí filmoví herci
Angličtí divadelní herci
Angličtí scenáristé
Narození v roce 1989
Narození 24. února
Narození v Londýně
Žijící lidé
Muži
Držitelé ceny BAFTA za nejlepší vycházející hvězdu
Držitelé ceny Black Reel Awards
Držitelé Filmové a televizní ceny MTV
Držitelé ceny NAACP Image Awards
Držitelé Ceny Sdružení filmových a televizních herců v kategorii nejlepší filmové obsazení
Držitelé ceny Zlatý glóbus za nejlepší mužský herecký výkon ve vedlejší roli
Držitelé ceny Critics' Choice Movie Awards za nejlepší mužský herecký výkon ve vedlejší roli
Držitelé Ceny Sdružení filmových a televizních herců za nejlepší mužský herecký výkon ve vedlejší roli
Držitelé ceny BAFTA za nejlepšího herce ve vedlejší roli | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 590 |
\section{Introduction}
The question how local properties determine global order of spatial structures
arises naturally in many different contexts. If the structures under
consideration are crystallographic structures, for instance,
tilings are used frequently as models for these structures. In this context,
one studies how local properties of a tiling determine its global properties.
To mention just a few results in this context for tilings: A tiling is
called {\em monohedral} if all tiles are congruent. A tiling is called
{\em isohedral} if its symmetry group acts transitively on the tiles.
Hilbert's 18th problem asked whether there is a tile admitting a monohedral
tiling, but no isohedral tiling. (In fact, Hilbert asked the question
for tilings in three dimensions.) Heesch gave an affirmative answer in
1935 by proposing a planar non-convex tile with this property
\cite{heesch}, \cite{gs}. A classification of all isohedral tilings by
convex polygons was obtained by Reinhardt \cite{reinh}, see also
Section 9 of the wonderful book by Gr\"unbaum and Shephard \cite{gs}.
In contrast, a classification of all monohedral
tilings by convex polygons has not been obtained yet. For instance,
it is still unknown which types of convex pentagons admit monohedral
tilings of the Euclidean plane \cite[Section 9]{gs}.
In a similar manner, a {\em monogonal} tiling is one in which each
vertex star --- i.e., a vertex together with its incident edges ---
is congruent to any other vertex star. A tiling is called {\em isogonal},
if its symmetry group acts transitively on the vertex stars. A
classification of isogonal tilings is contained in \cite[Section 6]{gs}.
There are 11 combinatorial types of isogonal tilings and 91 types
of (unmarked, normal) isogonal tilings altogether.
Each of the 11 combinatorial types of isogonal tilings can be realised
by an {\em Archimedean} (aka {\em uniform}) tiling, that is a vertex
transitive tiling by regular polygons (which then is automatically isogonal)
\cite[Section 2]{gs}.
The Local Theorem for tilings yields a necessary and sufficient criterion for
a tiling to be crystallographic in terms of the number and the symmetries
of $k$-th tile coronae in the tiling \cite{dol-sch1}. (The $0$th tile corona
of a tile $T$ is $T$ itself. The $k$-th tile corona of $T$ is the set of
all tiles sharing a facet with some tile of the $k-1$-th tile corona of $T$.)
As a consequence of this result, a monohedral tiling is isohedral if and only
if all first tile coronae in $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ are congruent \cite{dol-sch2}.
In light of the facts above it seems natural to explore tilings in which all
vertex coronae are congruent. We will call these tilings {\em monocoronal}.
The {\em vertex corona} of a vertex $x$ in a tiling is $x$ together with the
tiles incident to $x$. Thus, monocoronal is a stronger property than
monogonal.
The main results of this paper are obtained for tilings in the Euclidean
plane $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^2$ (Section \ref{sec:plane}). It turns out that
a tiling in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^2$ is necessarily isogonal (hence crystallographic) if
all vertex corona are directly congruent (i.e., mirror images forbidden).
This is stated in Theorem \ref{thm:e2-dir}.
In contrast, if all vertex corona of some tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ are congruent, but
not necessarily directly congruent (i.e., mirror images allowed), then
the translation subgroup of the symmetry group of $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ can
be one-dimensional. In particular, $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ may be neither crystallographic
nor isogonal. This is Theorem \ref{thm:e2-cong}. These results are obtained
using a complete classification of monocoronal tilings.
This classification is contained in Appendices \ref{class-facetoface}
and \ref{class-nonfacetoface}.
In Section \ref{sec:highdim} the results of Section \ref{sec:plane} are
used to obtain some monocoronal tilings in higher dimensional
Euclidean space with small translation groups. Section \ref{sec:concl}
briefly illustrates the situation in hyperbolic spaces and states some
suggestions for further work.
\subsection{Definitions and Notations}
Let $\ensuremath{\mathbb X}$ be a Euclidean space $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ or a hyperbolic space $\ensuremath{\mathbb H}^d$.
A {\em tiling} is a countable collection $\{T_1, T_2, \ldots\}$ of compact
sets $T_i$ (the {\em tiles}) that is a covering (i.e., $\bigcup_i T_i = \ensuremath{\mathbb X}$)
as well as a packing (i.e. $\mathring{T_i} \cap \mathring{T_j}=\varnothing$
if $i \ne j$, where $\mathring{T}$ denotes the interior of $T$). Here the tiles
will almost always be convex polytopes; if not, it is mentioned explicitly.
A {\em vertex} of a tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is a point $x$ such that $x$ is a vertex of
at least one tile in $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$. Note that in general (higher dimensions,
non-convex tiles) a proper definition of a vertex of a tiling can be
problematic, compare \cite{gs} or \cite{FG}. Our definition is tailored to
monocoronal tilings. It agrees with the usual definitions and properties
of a vertex of a tiling if one considers only planar tilings by convex
polygons. For instance, $x$ is a vertex of a tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ if and only if $x$ is
an isolated point of the intersection of some tiles in $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$; or: every
vertex of a tile (in the usual sense: vertex of a polygon) is a vertex of the
tiling, compare \cite{FG}.
A tiling is called {\em face-to-face} if the intersection of two tiles is
always an entire face (possibly of dimension less
than $d$, possibly empty) of both of the tiles. In particular, planar
tilings by convex polygons are face-to-face if the intersection of two tiles is either an
entire edge of both of the tiles, or a vertex of both of the tiles, or empty.
\begin{defi}
Let $x$ be a vertex in some tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$. The {\em vertex-corona} of $x$
is the set of all tiles $T \in \ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ such that $x \in T$, together with $x$.
\end{defi}
In tilings by non-convex tiles, two different vertices may have the same set
of adjacent tiles. Thus it is necessary to keep track of the defining vertex $x$
in the definition of the vertex corona.
\begin{defi}
If all vertex-coronae in a tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ are directly congruent (mirror images
forbidden), then we say that $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is a {\em monocoronal tiling up
to rigid motions}. If all vertex-coronae in a tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ are congruent
(mirror images allowed), then we say that $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is a {\em monocoronal
tiling up to congruence}. If it is clear from the context which
of the both terms is meant then we will say briefly that $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is a
{\em monocoronal tiling}.
\end{defi}
The {\em symmetry group} of a tiling $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is the set of all isometries
$\varphi: \ensuremath{\mathbb X} \to \ensuremath{\mathbb X}$ such that $\varphi(\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}})=\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$.
In the sequel we are interested in possible symmetry groups of
monocoronal tilings. In particular we ask whether only
crystallographic groups can occur.
\begin{defi}
A tiling in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ is called {\em $k$-periodic} if the symmetry group contains
exactly $k$ linearly independent translations. A $0$-periodic tiling is
called {\em non-periodic}.
\end{defi}
\begin{defi}
The tiling $\mathcal{T}$ is called {\em crystallographic} if its symmetry group
has compact fundamental domain. Otherwise it is called {\em non-crystallographic}.
\end{defi}
In Euclidean space $\mathbb{R}^d$ the two notions ``crystallographic''
and ``$d$-periodic" are equivalent.
\begin{thm}[Bieberbach, 1911-1912, \cite{Bieb1, Bieb2}]
A tiling $\mathcal{T}$ of $\mathbb{R}^d$ is crystallographic iff it is
$d$-periodic.
\end{thm}
Since in hyperbolic spaces there is no natural meaning of ``translation''
it does not make sense to speak of ``periodic'' or ``non-periodic''
tilings in $\ensuremath{\mathbb H}^d$. Nevertheless we can ask whether a hyperbolic
monocoronal tiling is necessarily crystallographic. This is answered
in Section \ref{sec:concl}.
We will use orbifold notation to denote planar symmetry groups in the sequel,
compare \cite{BCG}. For instance, $\ast442$ denotes the symmetry group of the
canonical face-to-face tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^2$ by unit squares. For a translation of
orbifold notation into other notations see \cite{BCG} or \cite{wik-orb}.
In orbifold notation the 17 crystallographic groups in the Euclidean plane
(``wallpaper groups'') are
\[ \ast632, \, \ast442, \, \ast333, \, \ast2222, \, \ast \ast, \, \ast
\times, \, \times \times, \quad 632, \, 442, \, 333, \, 2222, \, \circ,
\quad 4\ast 2, \, 3 \ast 3, \, 2 \ast 22, \, 22 \ast, 22 \times; \]
and the seven frieze groups are
\[ \infty \infty, \, \ast \infty \infty, \, \infty \ast, \, \infty \times,
\, 22 \infty, \, 2 \ast \infty, \, \ast 22 \infty. \]
\section{Euclidean plane}\label{sec:plane}
This section is dedicated to the question: What are possible symmetry
groups of monocoronal tilings in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^2$?
It turns out that the answer is rather different depending on whether we
consider monocoronal tiling up to rigid motions, or
up to congruence. In the sequel the main results are stated first. It
follows a subsection containing an outline of the classification of all
monocoronal tilings that are face to face, then a subsection sketching the
classification of monocoronal tilings that that are not face-to-face,
and finally the proofs of Theorems \ref{thm:e2-dir} and \ref{thm:e2-cong}
are given.
\begin{thm} \label{thm:e2-dir}
Every monocoronal tiling up to rigid motions has one of the
following 12 symmetry groups:
\[ \ast632, \, \ast442, \, \ast333, \, \ast2222, \, \quad 632, \, 442, \, 333,
\, 2222, \quad 4\ast2, \, 3 \ast 3, \, 2 \ast 22, \, 22 \ast. \]
In particular, every such tiling is crystallographic, every such tiling
has a center of rotational symmetry of order at least 2, and its symmetry
group acts transitively on the vertices.
\end{thm}
\begin{thm} \label{thm:e2-cong}
Every monocoronal tiling up to congruence is either
1-periodic, or its symmetry is one out of 16 wallpaper groups:
any except $\ast \times$. If such tiling is 1-periodic then its symmetry
group is one of four frieze groups: $\infty\infty$, $\infty \times$,
$\infty \ast$, or $22\infty$.
In particular, every such tiling is crystallographic or 1-periodic.
\end{thm}
\begin{rem}
It turns out that the 1-periodic tilings in Theorem \ref{thm:e2-cong}
consist of 1-periodic layers that are stacked according to a non-periodic
one-dimensional sequence (see for instance Figure \ref{pict:3dim-block},
page \pageref{pict:3dim-block}).
Such a sequence may look simply like
$\ldots 1,1,1,0,1,1,1, \ldots$ (all 1s, one 0) or, more
interestingly, like a non-periodic Fibonacci
sequence $\ldots0,1,1,0,1,0,1,1,0,1,1,0,1,0 \ldots$, where each finite
sub-sequence occurs infinitely often with bounded gaps. The study
of nonperiodic symbolic sequences is an interesting field of study
on its own, compare for instance \cite{fogg} or \cite{baa-grim}.
\end{rem}
\subsection{Face-to-face tilings}\label{subsec:ftf}
We start with determining the possible combinatorial types of vertex coronae
in a monocoronal tiling; that is, in which way can every vertex
be surrounded by $n$-gons. This first part is already contained in
\cite{gs}: Our Lemma \ref{lem:combtype}
corresponds to Equation (3.5.5) in \cite{gs}, our Table \ref{tab:list}
corresponds to Table 2.1.1 in \cite{gs} (which is also applicable to
the more general case considered here). For the sake of completeness
we include the line of reasoning in the sequel.
\begin{lem} \label{lem:combtype}
Let $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ be a monocoronal tiling such that every vertex is
incident to $n$ polygons with $a_1,\ldots, a_n$ many edges, respectively. Then
\[ \sum_{i=1}^n \frac{1}{a_i}=\frac{n}{2}-1.\]
\end{lem}
\begin{proof}
Let $k_i$ denote the number of $i$-gons in the corona of a vertex in a
monocoronal tiling $\mathcal{T}$.
Consider the average sum of angles at every vertex. On one hand, it
is equal to $2\pi$ since $\mathcal{T}$ is a tiling. On the other hand, every
$i$-gon adds an angle $\frac{i-2}{i}\pi$ in average. By summing up
contributions of all polygons and dividing by $\pi$ we obtain
${\displaystyle \sum\limits_{i\geq 3} \frac{k_i(i-2)}{i}=2}$.
Let $n$ denote the total number of polygons incident to a vertex $x$ in
$\mathcal{T}$ (i.e. $n=\sum k_i$) then this identity becomes
\[\sum\limits_{i\geq 3}\frac{k_i}{i}=\frac{n}{2}-1.\]
Reformulating this with respect to $a_i$ yields the claim.
\end{proof}
One can easily check that the equation in Lemma \ref{lem:combtype} is possible
only in the cases listed in Table \ref{tab:list} (where only non-zero $k_i$'s are
listed).
\begin{table}
\begin{tabular}{|l|l|c|}
\hline
$n=6$ & $k_3=6$ & \\
\hline
$n=5$ & $k_3=4$, $k_6=1$ & \\
& $k_3=3$, $k_4=2$ & \\
\hline
$n=4$ & $k_3=2$, $k_4=1$, $k_{12}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_3=2$, $k_6=2$ & \\
& $k_3=1$, $k_4=2$, $k_6=1$ & \\
& $k_4=4$ & \\
\hline
$n=3$ & $k_3=1$, $k_7=1$, $k_{42}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_3=1$, $k_8=1$, $k_{24}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_3=1$, $k_9=1$, $k_{18}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_3=1$, $k_{10}=1$, $k_{15}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_3=1$, $k_{12}=2$ & (i)\\
& $k_4=1$, $k_5=1$, $k_{20}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_4=1$, $k_6=1$, $k_{12}=1$ & \\
& $k_4=1$, $k_8=2$ & \\
& $k_5=2$, $k_{10}=1$ & (i)\\
& $k_6=3$ & \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\caption{Possible combinatorial types of vertex coronae following from
Lemma \ref{lem:combtype}. Cases that are impossible for further reasons
are marked with (i). \label{tab:list}}
\end{table}
Not all cases with $n=3$ and $n=4$ can be realized by a tiling in the
Euclidean plane. Impossible cases are marked by (i) in Table \ref{tab:list}.
For example, there is no tiling in the Euclidean plane such that every vertex
is incident to one triangle, one $7$-gon and one $42$-gon.
Indeed, the edges of any triangle in such a tiling in cyclic
order would belong alternately to 7-gons and to 42-gons. Since a triangle
has an odd number of edges this is impossible.
In the same way one can prove that if $n=3$ then only four cases can be
realized: one triangle and two $12$-gons, or three hexagons, or one quadrilateral
and two octagons, or one quadrilateral, hexagon and one $12$-gon. If $n=4$ then
the case with two triangles, one quadrilateral and one $12$-gon cannot be realized.
The full list of all possible monocoronal face-to-face tilings presented in Appendix
\ref{class-facetoface}. In the sequel the general line of reasoning is illustrated
by a detailed discussion of a typical example, namely the case where the vertex
corona consists of one triangle, two quadrilaterals, and one hexagon.
First we consider the topological structure of a tiling $\mathcal{T}$
with prescribed (combinatorial) polygons in the corona of every vertex. For
example, if $n=6$ then the tiling $\mathcal{T}$ will be combinatorially
equivalent to the tiling with regular triangles.
The example under consideration --- one triangle, two quadrilaterals,
one hexagon --- is less trivial. In this case with there are two possible
combinatorial coronas. They are shown in Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex}.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-0.pdf}
\hskip 2cm
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-1.pdf}
\caption{Two theoretical cases of local structure with triangle, two quadrilaterals and hexagon.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
The constellation in the left part of the figure can not be realized in
any tiling of the plane. The reason is the same as above: quadrilaterals
and hexagons need to alternate in a cyclic way along the edges of some triangle,
yielding a contradiction.
So the topological structure of the tiling that we are looking for will
be the same as in Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:top}.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[scale=1]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-2.pdf}
\caption{Topological structure of a tiling with unique vertex corona consisting of
a triangle, two quadrilaterals and a hexagon.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex:top}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
The next step is to mark equal edges or predefined angles. (This is the
point where we go beyond \cite{gs}.) For example, in
the unique topologically possible corona with triangle, two quadrilaterals and
hexagon there is only one angle of triangle in every vertex, therefore all
angles of all triangles in our tiling are equal to $\frac{\pi}3$. By the same
reason all angles of all hexagons are equal to $\frac{2\pi}{3}$.
We use the same strategy to mark edges of equal length. It is easy
to see that all edges of all triangles are equal, since every corona
contains only one equilateral triangle. Hence we mark all edges of all
triangles with red color. The two edges of a hexagon that are incident to a given
vertex $x$ may be of different lengths. Thus we mark them with blue and
green, respectively. Then the edges of all hexagons are colored alternating
with blue and green since every vertex must be incident to one blue and one
green edge of a hexagon. Hence we have colored all edges in the corona except
two of them (see Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:precolor}).
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-3.pdf}
\caption{Intermediate coloring of corona.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex:precolor}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
Both uncolored edges belong to some hexagons so they can be blue or green.
First we will consider the case when green and blue are equal. Then both
quadrilaterals in every corona are parallelograms. There are no more than
two different angles in total in these quadrilaterals since in one corona
there are only two angles of quadrilaterals. So metrically the corona of an
arbitrary vertex $x$ looks as follows
(see Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:nogreen}): a regular hexagon, two equal
parallelograms that touch $x$ with different angles (or equal iff they
are rectangles), and a regular triangle.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-4.pdf}
\caption{First possible case of a corona with one triangle, two quadrilaterals, and one hexagon.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex:nogreen}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
If the blue and the green edges are of different length then one of the
uncolored edges in Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:precolor} is green and the
other one is blue. There are two arguments for that. The first one which works
in this particular case is the following: if both edges are of the same
color, say blue, then every corona does not have a green edge on the outer
part of incident quadrilaterals, which is impossible. The second argument is
general for all monocoronal tilings: in any corona with center
$x$, the portion of green edges of quadrilaterals containing $x$ is the
same as the portion of green edges of quadrilaterals not containing $x$.
This means in this example: one quarter of all edges of quadrilaterals must
be green.
So there are two possibilities of coloring all edges of the vertex corona
under consideration. These are shown in Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:color}.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-5.pdf}
\hskip 1cm
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-6.pdf}
\caption{Possible colorings of corona.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex:color}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
In the left image both quadrilaterals are parallelograms. Moreover, every
corona contains only one angle between red and blue edges, hence all
these angles are equal. But four such angles are angles of one quadrilateral,
so this quadrilateral is a rectangle. By the same reason the second
quadrilateral is a rectangle, too. Now if we consider an arbitrary
triangle then it is surrounded by rectangles that alternate cyclically
along its edges: a rectangle with two red and two green edges is followed
by a rectangle with two red and two blue edges. Again, since the
triangle has an odd number of edges, this yields a contradiction.
By the same reason, in the right image all angles between red and blue
edges are equal, and all angles between red and green edges are equal.
So both quadrilaterals are equal isosceles trapezoids. Hence the metrical
picture looks like shown in Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:metr}.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[scale=2.5]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-7.pdf}
\caption{The second possible corona with triangle, two quadrilaterals, and hexagon.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex:metr}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
Putting everything together we obtain that there are two families of different
monocoronal tilings whose vertex corona consists of one triangle, two quadrilaterals,
and one hexagon. Both families are shown in Figure \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:final}.
Both families admit only crystallographic tilings since the metrical structure is
uniquely defined by the structure of an arbitrary corona satisfying
Figures \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:nogreen} or \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:metr}.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.45\textwidth]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-8.pdf}
\hfill
\includegraphics[width=0.45\textwidth]{pictures/tr-2q-hex-9.pdf}
\caption{Families of monocoronal tilings with one triangle, two quadrilaterals, and one hexagon.}\label{pict:tr-2q-hex:final}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
Proceeding in this manner for all possible cases yields the list of
tilings in Appendix \ref{class-facetoface}.
\subsection{Non face-to-face tilings}
In the case of non-face-to-face tilings we can prove a lemma similar to Lemma
\ref{lem:combtype-nonftf}. We assume that each vertex $x$ is contained in the
relative interior of the edge of some polygon $P_x$. It is clear that there is
exactly one such polygon.
\begin{lem} \label{lem:combtype-nonftf}
If there is a monocoronal tiling $\mathcal{T}$ such that every vertex is a vertex of polygons with number of edges $\{a_1,\ldots, a_n\}$ and lies in a side of one more polygon then \[\sum \frac{1}{a_i}=\frac{n-1}{2}.\]
\end{lem}
\begin{proof}
Let $k_i$ denote the number of $i$-gons (not including $P_x$) in the corona of the vertex $x$ in a monocoronal tiling $\mathcal{T}$.
Consider the average sum of angles at every vertex, excluding the contribution of $P_x$. On one hand, it is equal to $\pi$ since $\mathcal{T}$ is a tiling and $P_x$ contributes an angle equal to $\pi$. On the other hand, every $i$-gon adds an angle $\frac{i-2}{i}\pi$ in average. After summing up contributions of all polygons and dividing by $\pi$ we
obtain
\[ \sum\limits_{i\geq 3} \frac{k_i(i-2)}{i}=1.\]
Reformulating this with respect to $a_i$ yields the claim.
\end{proof}
One can easily check that the equation in Lemma \ref{lem:combtype-nonftf} is
possible only in the following cases (we will list only non-zero $k_i$'s):
\[ n=3: \; k_3=3, \quad \quad n=2: \; k_3=1, k_6=1, \quad \mbox{or} \quad n-2: \; k_4=2. \]
Now we can use the same technique as in \ref{subsec:ftf} for obtaining the full list of all possible monocoronal non face-to-face tilings, see Appendix \ref{class-nonfacetoface}.
\subsection{Proofs of the main theorems}
The full list of tilings in Appendices \ref{class-facetoface} and
\ref{class-nonfacetoface} allows us to
complete the proofs of Theorems \ref{thm:e2-dir} and \ref{thm:e2-cong}.
\begin{proof}[Proof (of Theorem \ref{thm:e2-dir})]
The first assertion can be checked by going through the list in Appendix
\ref{class-facetoface}, omitting those tilings that require reflected coronae
(i.e., consider only those figures with (D) in the caption).
We cannot find each group directly depicted in the figures. But
many figures cover an entire class of special cases. For instance, Figure
\ref{pict:6tr-5seg} --- showing a triangle tiling with five different
edge lengths --- covers also the special cases of four, three, two and
one different edge lengths. In particular, the tiling in Figure
\ref{pict:6tr-5seg} with all edge lengths equal shows the regular
triangle tiling by equilateral triangles with symmetry group $\ast632$.
In this flavor, the following table shows the number of a figure in which
the corresponding symmetry group occurs, together with some additional
constraint if necessary.
\begin{table}[!ht]
\begin{tabular}{|l|l|}
\hline
$\ast$632 & \ref{pict:6tr-5seg}, all edge lengths equal\\
$\ast$442 & \ref{pict:4quad-rectangles}, all edge lengths equal\\
$\ast$333 & \ref{pict:2tr-2hex}, all interior angles of the hexagons equal\\
$\ast$2222 & \ref{pict:4quad-rectangles}, all rectangles congruent\\
632 & \ref{pict:4tr-hex}\\
442 & \ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-cons1}\\
333 & \ref{pict:6tr:3seg-3pairs}\\
2222 & \ref{pict:6tr-5seg}\\
4 $\ast$ 2 & \ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-cons2}, with squares and half-squares\\
3 $\ast$ 3 & \ref{pict:6tr:3seg-3pairs}, all triangles isosceles (red=blue)\\
2 $\ast$ 22 & \ref{pict:3tr-2q-per}, with squares and equilateral triangles\\
22 $\ast$ & \ref{pict:6tr-5seg}, with red=violet, green=yellow.\\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\caption{Symmetry groups with the number of their corresponding figures and
further specifications.}
\end{table}
To see that this table is complete, one has to verify that the groups
$22\times$, $\ast \ast$, $\ast \times$, $\times \times$ and $\circ$
are not symmetry groups of the tilings in the list (again only considering
figures with (D) in the caption). The simplest way is to check
that all these tilings do have a centre of 2-fold or 3-fold rotation.
This rules out $\ast \ast$, $\ast \times$, $\times \times$ and $\circ$.
Then one may check which figures show glide reflections, but no reflections:
this is true for none of the figures considered here.
This rules out $22\times$ and shows all assertions except the last claim.
It remains to check the figures (again only the ones with (D) in the
caption) for vertex transitivity.
This is done easily since all tilings considered are crystallographic:
only the vertices in a fundamental domain of the translation group have
to be checked for equivalence with respect to the symmetry group. In most cases an
appropriate rotation will suffice. To give an example, consider
Figure \ref{pict:6tr:3seg-3pairs}: The translations in the symmetry group
of the depicted tiling act transitively on the small triangles. A
3-fold rotation about the centre of a small triangle permutes the vertices
of this small triangle cyclically. Any vertex in the tiling is the
vertex of some small triangle. Thus a composition of some translation and
some rotation --- which is again a rotation --- maps any given vertex to
any different vertex.
\end{proof}
\begin{proof}[Proof (of Theorem \ref{thm:e2-cong})]
The assertion can be checked by going through the full list in Appendix
\ref{class-facetoface}. In the figures one finds 13 crystallographic groups
as symmetry groups of the depicted tilings (the 12 groups from the last
proof together with $22 \times$).
The following short list gives for each group $G$ occurring
the number of one or two figures in the appendix such that $G$
is the symmetry group of the corresponding tiling.
\begin{table}[!ht]
\begin{tabular}{|ccccccccccccc|}
\hline
$\ast$632 & $\ast$442 & $\ast$333 & $\ast$2222 & 632 & 442 & 333 &
2222 & 4 $\ast$ 2 & 3 $\ast$ 3 & 2 $\ast$ 22 & 22 $\ast$ & 22$\times$\\
\hline
\ref{pict:quad-hex-tw} &
\ref{pict:quad-2oct-alldiff2} &
\ref{pict:3hex-alldiffalt} &
\ref{pict:4quad-rectangles} &
\ref{pict:4tr-hex}, \ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:equal} &
\ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-cons1}, \ref{pict:4quad:2sq-2par} &
\ref{pict:6tr:3seg-3pairs}, \ref{pict:2tr-2hex} &
\ref{pict:6tr-5seg}, \ref{pict:6tr:4seg-2pairs1} &
\ref{pict:4quad:sq-rect-2trap}, \ref{pict:quad-2oct-egnonalt} &
\ref{pict:tr-2q-hex:notequal}, \ref{pict:tr-2tw-nonalt} &
\ref{pict:4quad:2rect-2trap}, \ref{pict:non-f2f-4q-two-rect} &
\ref{pict:4quad:2trap}, \ref{pict:3hex-alldiffother} &
\ref{pict:6tr:4seg-2pairs1}, \ref{pict:4quad-singletile reflected}\\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\caption{Symmetry groups with the number of their corresponding figures}
\end{table}
Note that all symmetry groups can be realized with face-to-face tilings.
The remaining three crystallographic groups $\ast \ast$, $\times \times$
and $\circ$ are realised by families of tilings that allow also
non-crystallographic tilings. This is true for the tilings
depicted in Figures \ref{pict:6tr:4seg-2pairs2}, \ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-per1},
\ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-per2}, \ref{pict:4quad-nonperiodic},
\ref{pict:non-f2f-4q-one-rect}, and \ref{pict:non-f2f-3tr-isosceles}.
In the four cases where the tilings are face-to-face, non-crystallographic
symmetry groups can occur since
the tilings consist of alternating layers such that each second layer
is mirror symmetric. The symmetric layers consist either of isosceles
triangles ($I$) or of rectangles ($R$), as depicted in Figure \ref{pict:nc-layers}.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\includegraphics[width=0.7\textwidth]{pictures/layers.pdf}
\caption{Layers of isosceles triangles ($I$), layers of rectangles ($R$),
layers of parallelograms ($P_i$) and layers of non-isosceles
triangles ($T_i$). \label{pict:nc-layers}}
\end{figure}
The other layers come in two chiral versions and consist either of
parallelograms ($P_0$ and $P_1$) or of triangles ($T_0$ and $T_1$), see
Figure \ref{pict:nc-layers}. The tilings corresponding to Figure
\ref{pict:6tr:4seg-2pairs2} consist of alternating layers of the form
\[\ldots I,T_{i_{-1}},I,T_{i_0}, I,T_{i_1},I,T_{i_2},\ldots, \quad (i_k \in \{0,1\}), \]
the tilings corresponding to Figure \ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-per1} consist of
alternating layers of the form
\[\ldots I,P_{i_{-1}},I,P_{i_0}, I,P_{i_1},I,P_{i_2},\ldots, \quad (i_k \in \{0,1\}), \]
the tilings corresponding to Figure \ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-per2} consist of
alternating layers of the form
\[\ldots R,T_{i_{-1}},R,T_{i_0},I,P_{i_1},I,P_{i_2},\ldots, \quad (i_k \in \{0,1\}), \]
and the tilings corresponding to Figure \ref{pict:4quad-nonperiodic} consist
of alternating layers of the form
\[\ldots R,P_{i_{-1}},R,P_{i_0},R,P_{i_1},R,P_{i_2},\ldots, \quad (i_k \in \{0,1\}).\]
In all cases the sequence $i:=(i_k)_{k \in \ensuremath{\mathbb Z}}$
can be chosen arbitrarily in $\{0,1\}^{\ensuremath{\mathbb Z}}$. The symmetry group
of the corresponding tilings depend on the sequence $i$. In particular,
if $i$ is a non-periodic symbolic sequence, the symmetry group of the
corresponding tiling has translations only parallel to the layers.
(The symbolic sequence $i=(i_k)_{k \in \ensuremath{\mathbb Z}}$ is called {\em non-periodic},
if $i_k=i_{k+m}$ for all $k \in \ensuremath{\mathbb Z}$ implies $m=0$.)
By choosing a periodic sequence $i$ appropriately tilings with symmetry
groups $\ast \ast$, $\times \times$ and $\circ$ can be realised.
To construct concrete examples we use tilings by parallelograms
and rectangles.
These tilings are depicted in Appendix \ref{no-rotations}. For instance,
$i= \ldots 101100 \; 101100 \; 101100 \ldots$ yields tilings with symmetry
group $\ast \ast$ (no rotations, two reflections in mirror axes parallel
to the layers, see Figure \ref{pict:star-star}). Choosing
$i= \ldots 111011000100 \; 111011000100 \; 111011000100 \ldots$
yields tilings with symmetry group $\times \times$ (no rotations,
glide reflections with mirror axes orthogonal
to the layers, no reflections, see Figure \ref{pict:norefl-norot}).
With $i= \ldots 0001011 \; 0001011 \; 0001011 \ldots$
we obtain tilings with symmetry group $\circ$
(translations only, see Figure \ref{pict:only-transl}).
In order to see that these examples do actually have the claimed
symmetry groups, it is instructive to consider how certain isometries
act on the symbolic sequence $i$. Here $i$ denotes the sequence of the
original tiling, then $i'$ is the sequence of the tiling after applying
the isometry.
\begin{itemize}
\item Reflection in a line orthogonal to the layers switches the symbols
1 and 2: $i'_{k} \equiv i_{k} +1 \mod 2$.
\item Reflection in a line parallel to the layers switches the symbols
1 and 2 and reverses the order: $i'_{k} \equiv i_{-k} +1 \mod 2$.
\item Rotation by $\pi$ (around the mid-point of a short edge of some tile
in layer $0$) reverses the order: $i'_k = i_{-k}$.
\item Translation orthogonal to the layers by $2m$ layers shifts by $m$:
$i'_{k}=i_{k+m}$.
\end{itemize}
In particular, if the sequence $i$ is not invariant under any operation
mentioned above then the corresponding tiling is not invariant under
the corresponding isometry. Keeping this in mind it is easy to check that
the tilings in Figures \ref{pict:star-star}, \ref{pict:norefl-norot} and
\ref{pict:only-transl} have the claimed symmetry groups.
It remains to rule out tilings with symmetry groups $\ast \times$ in
the cases considered here, i.e., in the six families of tilings that
may have non-crystallographic symmetry groups. Since these tilings
consist of the layers discussed above, any possible reflection mapping
the tiling to itself has to map the layers to themselves. Thus its mirror
axis is either parallel to the layers, or orthogonal to the layers. A
reflection orthogonal to the layers maps a layer $P_1$ to a layer $P_2$,
resp. a layer $T_1$ to a layer $T_2$, thus it cannot be a symmetry
of the tiling. Hence any possible reflection must have a mirror axis
parallel to the layers.
Since the reflection maps entire layers to entire layers, the mirror
axis lies either on the boundary of some layer, or in the central axis
of some layer. In the first case, the reflection would switch a
symmetric layer ($I$ or $R$) with a non-symmetric layer ($P_i$ or $T_i$),
hence it is not a symmetry of the tiling. In the second case, it cannot
be the central axis of a layer $P_i$, or $T_i$, or $I$, since these are not
mirror symmetric with respect to reflection about their central axis. Thus the
mirror axis of a possible reflection is the central axis of a layer
$R$.
From the list of the 17 wallpaper groups we
obtain that the mirror axis of a possible glide reflection is
parallel to the axis of the mirror reflection in the symmetry group
$\times \ast$. Hence the axis of any glide reflection is parallel to the layers.
By the same reasoning as above, it must be the central axis of
a layer $R$ consisting of rectangles. It remains to show that there
is no ``original'' such glide reflection, in terms of group generators.
I.e., we have to show that any such glide reflection is a combination
of a reflection $r$ and a translation $t$ that are already symmetries
of the tiling.
The translational part of any glide reflection as above maps rectangles
to rectangles. Thus its length is an integer multiple of the length of one edge
of the rectangles in layer $R$. But a translation by just one edge length
of the rectangles already maps the tiling to itself. Thus for any possible
glide reflection $g$ which translational part shifts by $k$ rectangles,
there is a translation $t$ --- shifting by $-k$ rectangles --- such that
$t \circ g$ is a proper reflection that maps the tiling to itself.
Hence a group $\ast \times$ cannot occur as symmetry group of a
monocoronal tiling.
Now we will establish all possible symmetry groups of
1-periodic monocoronal tilings. First we will give examples as sequences
of layers of rectangles and parallelograms as before (sequences of 0's
and 1's). For the group $\infty\infty$ we can use the sequence $\ldots 0001101000\ldots$
with only three 1's. For the group $\infty\ast$ we can use the sequence
$\ldots 00001111 \ldots$ which is infinity with 0's in one direction and 1's in the other.
And for the group $22\infty$ we can use the sequence $\ldots000010000\ldots$ with only one 1.
The group $\infty\times$ can occur as a symmetry group
of tiling with layers of isosceles triangles and parallelograms with
sequence $\ldots 00001111 \ldots$ which is infinity with 0's in one
direction and 1's in the other. Here the axis of the glide reflection
is in the middle line of layers of triangles between 0 and 1.
All other three frieze groups $\ast\infty\infty$,
$2\ast\infty$, and $\ast 22\infty$ can not be realized as symmetry group
of $1$-periodic monocoronal tiling because they contain a mirror symmetry
in the direction orthogonal to layers which is impossible for both types
of non-symmetric layers.
\end{proof}
\section{Euclidean space of dimension 3 and higher} \label{sec:highdim}
In the last section we have seen that monocoronal tilings up
to rigid motions are always 2-periodic, whereas monocoronal tilings
in general are either 1-periodic or 2-periodic.
Thus one may ask for the possible dimensions of the translation group
of a monocoronal tiling in higher dimension $d \ge 3$.
Trivially, the maximal dimension is always $d$, realised for instance
by the canonical face-to-face tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ by unit hypercubes.
Thus this section gives upper bounds for the minimal possible dimension
of translation groups of monocoronal tilings in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ for $d \ge 3$,
distinguishing the cases of face-to-face (Theorem \ref{thm:f2f-minper}) vs
non face-to-face (Theorem \ref{thm:nonf2f-minper}). Both case split
further with respect to direct congruence vs congruence. In analogy to the plane
case, two sets $A,B \subset \ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ are called {\em congruent},
if there is $t \in \ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ such that $A = t+RB$ for some $R \in O(d)$.
$A$ and $B$ are called {\em directly congruent},
if there is $t \in \ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ such that $A = t+RB$ for some $R \in SO(d)$.
The latter corresponds to the existence of a rigid motion of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ moving $A$ to
$B$.
\begin{thm}\label{thm:f2f-minper}
There are face-to-face tilings of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ that are $\lceil \frac{d}{2}\rceil$-periodic
and monocoronal.\\
There are face-to-face tilings of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ that are $\lceil \frac{d+1}{2}\rceil$-periodic
and monocoronal up to rigid motions.
\end{thm}
\begin{proof}
For the first claim,
consider a 1-periodic monocoronal tiling $\mathcal{T}$ of the Euclidean plane
(e.g. Figure \ref{pict:3dim-block}. Consider the direct
product $\mathcal{T}\times\ldots
\times \mathcal{T}$ of $\lfloor \frac{d}{2}\rfloor$ copies of $\mathcal{T}$.
This yields a $\lfloor \frac{d}{2}\rfloor$-periodic monocoronal tiling.
If $d$ is odd then we need to take
one additional direct product with some 1-periodic tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^1$ (for example
a tiling of the line by unit intervals).
For the second claim, note that the Cartesian product $A \times B$ is directly
congruent if either $A$ or $B$ is directly congruent.
Let $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ be the direct product of a 1-periodic tiling
from Figure \ref{pict:4quad-nonperiodic} with a tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^1$ by unit
intervals. Then $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is a monocoronal tiling up to rigid motions
of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^3$. The product of $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ with $k$ copies of any 1-periodic monocoronal
tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^2$ is a monocoronal tiling up to
rigid motions of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^{3+2k}$ that is $2+k$-periodic.
If $d$ is odd, then $d=3+2k$ for some $k$, and $\ensuremath{{\mathcal T}}$ is $\lceil \frac{d+1}{2} \rceil$-periodic.
If $d$ is even then consider the additional direct product
with a further tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^1$ by unit intervals.
This yields a $\lceil \frac{d+1}{2}\rceil$-periodic monocoronal
tiling up to rigid motions of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$ for all $d \ge 3$.
\end{proof}
For the non face-to-face case one can even push it further: one can construct
non-periodic tilings in $\mathbb{R}^d$ for $d \ge 3$.
\begin{thm}\label{thm:nonf2f-minper}
For any $d\geq 3$ there are non-periodic non face-to-face tilings of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$
that are monocoronal.\\
For any $d\geq 4$ there are non-periodic non face-to-face tilings of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^d$
that are monocoronal up to rigid motions .\\
\end{thm}
\begin{proof}
We will start with the first claim. We will show the construction of such an
example in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^3$. It can easily be generalised to higher dimensions.
We start with a 1-periodic tiling from Figure \ref{pict:3tr-2q:non-per2}
where all rectangles are unit squares and all triangles are isosceles
right triangles with edges $1,1,\sqrt2$ (see Figure \ref{pict:3dim-block}).
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.7\textwidth]{pictures/3dim-0.pdf}
\caption{Building block for an non-periodic tiling.}
\label{pict:3dim-block}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
Using this tiling we can create a {\it layer} $L$ by taking its direct
product with an orthogonal unit interval (see Figure \ref{pict:3dim-1layer}).
This layer is 1-periodic.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.7\textwidth]{pictures/3dim-1.pdf}
\caption{Layer of unit cubes and triangular prisms.}
\label{pict:3dim-1layer}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
In the next step we add a layer of unit cubes below the layer $L$ (see Figure
\ref{pict:3dim-2layers}). This is the point where our tiling starts to be
non face-to-face.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.7\textwidth]{pictures/3dim-2.pdf}
\caption{Layer $L$ and layer of unit cubes.}
\label{pict:3dim-2layers}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
In the next step (see Figure \ref{pict:3dim-3layers}) we add one more layer
congruent to $L$ below that is rotated by $\frac{\pi}{2}$ with respect to $L$. This latter
layer is 1-periodic, but in a direction orthogonal to the period of
the first layer. Hence the union of all three layers is non-periodic.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.8\textwidth]{pictures/3dim-3.pdf}
\caption{Three layers of unit cubes, two of them contains cubes cut into prisms.}
\label{pict:3dim-3layers}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
Proceeding in this manner yields a tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^3$ such that even layers
consist of unit cubes, odd layers consist of unit cubes and triangular
prisms. It is clear that any vertex corona consists of four unit cubes
from some even layer, two unit cubes from an adjacent odd layer, and
three prisms. Hence the tiling is a monocoronal tiling.
In each step of the construction one may choose a layer that is a
translate of $L$, or a copy of $L$ rotated by $\frac{\pi}{2}$.
If the sequence of choices is non-periodic then the tiling has no
period in the vertical direction. Hence we obtain a non-periodic tiling.
The constructed tiling is not a monocoronal tiling up to
rigid motions, so for the second claim of the theorem we need to modify the
construction a little bit. As for the first claim, we will present a construction
for $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^4$ that can be easily generalised to higher dimensions.
Again, we start from the tiling by unit squares and right isosceles triangles
in Figure \ref{pict:3dim-block}. In a preliminary step we take the
direct product of this tiling with a tiling of the orthogonal line by unit intervals.
This yields a $2$-periodic tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^3$ where each vertex corona consists
of unit cubes and triangular prisms, and each vertex corona is mirror-symmetric.
Taking the direct product of this tiling with an orthogonal unit interval yields
a layer $L'$ in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^4$ consisting of unit $4$-cubes and prisms over triangular
prisms. Now we can repeat the steps from the proof of the first claim of Theorem
\ref{thm:f2f-minper}.
Every even layer of the tiling consists of unit $4$-cubes, and every odd layer is
a directly congruent copy of the layer $L'$, preserving the ``almost'' cubical
structure on its boundary.
The initial 3-dimensional tiling was monocoronal, with mirror-symmetric corona.
Thus the resulting tiling is also monocoronal with mirror-symmetric corona,
hence it is a monocoronal tiling up to rigid motion. We can force this
tiling to be non-periodic by taking some non-periodic sequence of
rotations of $L'$ for odd layers.
$L'$ is $2$-periodic so in every step we can choose one direction in which
the copy of $L'$ is non-periodic. It suffices to choose each of three
directions at least once to destroy any period parallel to the layers.
\end{proof}
\section{Conclusion} \label{sec:concl}
This short conclusion mentions some open problems in the context of this
paper that are still open and may suggest further work.
The smallest possible
dimension of the translation group of monocoronal face-to-face tilings of
Euclidean spaces of dimension at least $3$ is still unknown: it is
0, 1 or 2. In particular, the question ``Does there exist a non-periodic
monocoronal face-to-face tiling in $\ensuremath{\mathbb R}^3$'' is still open.
Throughout this paper we restrict our study only to convex tiles, but the
same question could be asked for tilings with non-convex polygons
(resp.\ polytopes) as well. Allowing non-convex polygons does not change the
classification of two-dimensional face-to-face monocoronal tiling in
Appendix~\ref{class-facetoface}: every possible monocoronal tiling
using non-convex polygons is already covered by the classification.
For non face-to-face tiling it is even easier, because in this case
no angle of any polygon can be greater than $\pi$, hence no monocoronal
non-face-to-face tiling with non-convex polygons is possible at all.
One may also ask for classifications of monocoronal tilings in other
spaces of constant curvature, in particular in hyperbolic space.
For instance we might ask:
Is it true that every monocoronal tiling of $\mathbb{H}^d$ is crystallographic?
It is easier to answer this question for hyperbolic spaces than for Euclidean
spaces since there is a family of non-crystallographic tilings of $\mathbb{H}^d$
with unique tile corona. This tiling can be used to construct tilings with
unique vertex corona, that is, monocoronal tilings.
\begin{thm} \label{thm:hyp}
There is a non-crystallographic face-to-face tiling of $\mathbb{H}^d$ that
is monocoronal up to congruence.
\end{thm}
\begin{proof}
Here we show the construction for $\mathbb{H}^2$. An analogous construction
works for arbitrary dimension.
We start from (one of) B\"or\"oczky tiling $\mathcal{B}$ \cite{Bor}. It is a
non-crystallographic tiling of hyperbolic plane \cite[Theorem. 4.4]{DF} by equal
pentagons. Figure \ref{pict:hyper-1} shows a schematic view of this
tiling as a tiling of the representation of $\mathbb{H}^2$ as lower half plane.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.7\textwidth]{pictures/boroczky-0.pdf}
\caption{Example of B\"or\"oczky tiling.}
\label{pict:hyper-1}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
It is easy to see that this tiling $\mathcal{B}$ is not monocoronal. But
every tile is surrounded by other tiles ``in the same way'',
so we can use it to construct a monocoronal tiling. We construct the
{\it dual tiling} by taking barycenters of the initial tiles as vertices
of a new tiling and new tiles are convex hulls of vertices corresponding
to ``old'' tiles incident to one ``old'' vertex.
\begin{figure}[!ht]
\begin{center}
\includegraphics[width=0.7\textwidth]{pictures/boroczky-1.pdf}
\caption{Dual to B\"or\"oczky tiling.}
\label{pict:hyper-2}
\end{center}
\end{figure}
For arbitrary tilings this construction does not necessary yield a (face-to-face)
tiling, but in the case of B\"or\"oczky tiling it works. Barycenters
of tiles of one ``horizontal layer'' lie on one horocycle (horosphere
in $\mathbb{H}^d$). Thus tiles of the dual tiling form a layer
structure between neighboring horocycles. Moreover, this tiling
is a monocoronal tiling, since in the original tiling all first tile-coronae
are congruent. The dual tiling is non-crystallographic, since the initial
B\"or\"oczky tiling was non-crystallographic.
\end{proof}
Theorem \ref{thm:hyp} shows that face-to-face tilings in $\ensuremath{\mathbb H}^d$ that are
monocoronal up to congruence can be non-crystallographic (in a pretty
strict sense: their symmetry group being finite, see \cite{DF}). They can
also be crystallographic for small $d$, any regular tiling of $\ensuremath{\mathbb H}^d$
yields an example.
The same question with respect to monocoronal tilings up to rigid motions
is still open: The vertex coronae of the tilings in Figure \ref{pict:hyper-2}
are congruent, but not directly congruent. It might also be interesting to
study the situation in the higher dimensional analogues of the B\"or\"oczky
tilings.
\section*{Acknowledgements}
The research of the second author is partially supported by a grant of the
Dynasty Foundation and by the grant ``Leading Scientific Schools'' NSh-4833.2014.1.
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 4,110 |
The Universe Is Laughing is the third full-length album from Mayo and Wexford, Ireland folk-pop band The Guggenheim Grotto. It was originally released on June 15, 2010, by the New York-based indie label United For Opportunity.
Track listing
"Trust Me I'm A Thief" - 3:56
"Map Of The Human Heart" - 3:54
"Wings And Feathers" - 3:53
"Never Before" - 2:54
"Concentrate" - 5:09
"Wisdom" - 3:35
"Ruby Heart" - 3:33
"Spiegel Song" - 3:25
"The Universe Is Laughing" - 3:07
"Diamond" - 3:00
External links
Official Website
2010 albums
The Guggenheim Grotto albums | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 2,406 |
"Fields of Gold" is a song written and performed by English musician Sting. It first appeared on his fourth studio album, Ten Summoner's Tales (1993). The song was released as a single on 7 June 1993, reaching 16 on the UK Singles Chart and No. 23 on the US Billboard Hot 100. The song also reached No. 2 in Canada and No. 6 in Iceland. In 1994, it was awarded one of BMI's Pop Songs Awards.
Background
"Fields of Gold" and all the other tracks on the album were recorded at Lake House, Wiltshire, mixed at The Townhouse Studio, London, England and mastered at Masterdisk, New York City. The harmonica solo is played by Brendan Power, and the Northumbrian smallpipes are played by Kathryn Tickell. The music video was directed by Kevin Godley. The cover of the single was photographed at Wardour Old Castle in Wiltshire, as was the cover for the album Ten Summoner's Tales.
In Lyrics By Sting, the singer described the view from his 16th-century Wiltshire manor house:
Critical reception
In a retrospective review, Stephen Thomas Erlewine from AllMusic called "Fields of Gold" a "peaceful ballad", noting that it ranks as a classic. Larry Flick from Billboard described it as a "deeply alluring ballad with atmosphere to burn." He added, "Impeccably produced, it features a strong seductive vocal (and nice harmonica strains) from Sting, as well as lovely harplike acoustic guitar figures from band mate Dominic Miller. Among the most distinctive and beguiling songs the man has written, it's sure to earn a powerful multiformat reception, and thereby steal a few million hearts." Irish Bray People viewed it as "moody but ultimately likeable". The Daily Vault's David Bowling felt that it is one of the "brilliant pop songs of the 1990s." He stated that it remains "the perfect ballad. It is a wistful love song looking back on love gained." In his weekly UK chart commentary, James Masterton wrote, "For a man who is normally considered an albums artist this is an achievement indeed, a third hit in a row from his latest album, and all of them Top 20 hits." Alan Jones from Music Week gave "Fields of Gold" four out of five and named it Pick of the Week, calling it a "lilting, haunting, soothing, almost folky song". He added that "the uncluttered arrangement and intimate vocals are excellent". In an 2015 review, Pop Rescue commented, "This song is so wonderfully mellow, and flows so perfectly, that it's near impossible to find fault with it."
In an interview at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts, Paul McCartney stated that "Fields of Gold" was a song he wished he'd written himself.
Music video
The accompanying music video for "Fields of Gold", directed by Kevin Godley, features a gold silhouette of Sting singing the song while walking through a dark village at night containing common features seen throughout the UK such as a red telephone box and a red pillar box. Scenes also feature Sting singing the song while bathed in blue and gold light. The silhouette of Sting is shown as such that the background inside him exactly matches the background of the surrounding village, only the version inside of him is bright and bustling with people, while the version outside is dark and dead. The video ends with the camera going into the silhouette and Sting's clothing disappearing, showing a final shot of the village at daylight and with various people. It was published on YouTube in September 2011. The video has amassed more than 80 million views as of October 2022.
Release
"Fields of Gold" was the second single released from the album after "If I Ever Lose My Faith in You". The single reached No. 16 on the UK Singles Chart, No. 23 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 2 on the Canadian RPM Top Singles chart. It was also a hit in Germany, Iceland, Ireland, the Netherlands, Switzerland and many other countries. "Fields of Gold" was awarded one of BMI's Pop Songs Awards in 1994, honoring the songwriters, composers and music publishers of the song.
The song was included in Sting's first compilations album issued under the title Fields of Gold: The Best of Sting 1984–1994 and released in 1994 and in a later compilation The Very Best of Sting & The Police in 1997. It was re-recorded by Sting in 2006 as a bonus track for his classical album Songs from the Labyrinth, in which the song was accompanied entirely by a lute.
Cover versions
Many musical artists have covered the song. American singer and guitarist Eva Cassidy recorded a version that first appeared on her 1996 live album Live at Blues Alley, then later on her albums Songbird (1998) and The Best of Eva Cassidy (2012). Cassidy's version charted in Sweden and the Netherlands in 2008 and 2013, respectively. British-Georgian singer Katie Melua, a fan of Cassidy, recorded a version that was released as the BBC Children in Need single for 2017; her version peaked at No. 29 on the UK Singles Chart. In 2022, Drew and Ellie Holcomb recorded a version for their album Coming Home: A Collection of Songs. Megan McKenna released a cover in November 2022.
Track listings
UK 4-track CD single
"Fields of Gold"
"King of Pain" (live)
"Fragile" (live)
"Purple Haze" (live)
UK limited edition 4-track gatefold CD single
"Fields of Gold"
"Message in a Bottle" (live)
"Fortress Around Your Heart" (live)
"Roxanne" (live)
Charts
Weekly charts
Sting version
Eva Cassidy version
Katie Melua version
Year-end charts
Sting version
Certifications
References
External links
Second Hand Songs: "Fields of gold" song page
1993 songs
1993 singles
2001 singles
2017 singles
A&M Records singles
Children in Need singles
Cliff Richard songs
Eva Cassidy songs
Katie Melua songs
Michael Bolton songs
Rock ballads
Sting (musician) songs
Song recordings produced by Hugh Padgham
Songs written by Sting (musician)
1990s ballads | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 7,402 |
{"url":"https:\/\/www.physicsforums.com\/threads\/strain-pressure.132545\/","text":"# Strain & pressure\n\n1. Sep 17, 2006\n\n### asdf1\n\nWhat's the difference between strain & pressure? The formulas look the same...\n\n2. Sep 18, 2006\n\n### Staff: Mentor\n\n3. Sep 18, 2006\n\n### Staff: Mentor\n\nStrain and pressure do not have the same units.\n\nPressure and stress do have the same units (Force\/(unit area).\n\nStrain is a dimensionless quantity which is the (change in length)\/(unit length) and has units like in\/in, ft\/ft, m\/m, and is often expressed in terms of percentage.\n\nStrain is (L-Lo)\/Lo,\n\nPressure = F\/A and units are N\/m2, psi (lbf\/in2), . . . .\n\n4. Sep 19, 2006\n\n### asdf1\n\nAhhh!!! I must be going bonkers... Sorry! I mean stress and pressure...\n\nStress= Force\/Cross-sectional Area\nPressure=Force\/Area\n\n5. Sep 21, 2006\n\n### PerennialII\n\n.... are you looking for the difference between \"pressure stress\" (hydrostatic stress, or well, pressure) and stress (a single component of stress) in general? The former being the average of the 11, 22 and 33 components.\n\n6. Sep 21, 2006\n\nStress in a point placed inside the differential area $$\\Delta A$$ is defined as $$\\vec{\\rho}=\\lim_{\\Delta A \\rightarrow 0} \\frac{\\Delta \\vec{F}}{\\Delta A}$$. It can have any direction, while the direction of pressure is predefined mostly; air pressure, wind pressure, hydrostatic pressure, saturation pressure, etc. So, I would say that stress is a more general term.","date":"2017-07-21 20:48:13","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.6702324748039246, \"perplexity\": 3796.600623437846}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 20, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2017-30\/segments\/1500549423809.62\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20170721202430-20170721222430-00616.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
Q: Encryption Program That Works With NodeJs and mbedtls First, let me start by stating that I am not a cryptographer by any means, and I am not very good at writing c code either, so please excuse me if the answer to this question is obvious or answered. I am developing a messaging program and cannot use TLS on the target platform. As a result, I need to find a way to encrypt each message using a symmetric pre shared key cipher, like AES.
I am seeking a method to encrypt and decrypt data between an mbedtls program (such as aescrypt2) on one end, and a nodejs program on the other. Mbedtls, formerly polarssl, is a library which provides encryption for embedded devices. Included with the source code are some sample programs, like aescrypt2, rsaencrypt, ecdsa and crypt_and_hash.
Aescrypt2 works fine when the resulting encrypted data is also decrypted using aescrypt2, but I cannot seem to get data encrypted with aescrypt to decrypt using nodejs crypto or any other program for that matter, including openssl. For example:
echo 'this is a test message' >test.txt
aescrypt 0 test.txt test.out hex:E76B2413958B00E193
aescrypt 1 test.out test.denc hex:E76B2413958B00E193
cat test.denc
this is a test message
With openssl:
openssl enc -in out.test -out outfile.txt -d -aes256 -k E76B2413958B00E193
bad magic number
Some sample node code that doesn't currently work
var crypto = require('crypto');
var AESCrypt = {};
AESCrypt.decrypt = function(cryptkey, iv, encryptdata) {
encryptdata = new Buffer(encryptdata, 'base64').toString('binary');
var decipher = crypto.createDecipheriv('aes-256-cbc', cryptkey, iv),
decoded = decipher.update(encryptdata, 'binary', 'utf8');
decoded += decipher.final('utf8');
return decoded;
}
AESCrypt.encrypt = function(cryptkey, iv, cleardata) {
var encipher = crypto.createCipheriv('aes-256-cbc', cryptkey, iv),
encryptdata = encipher.update(cleardata, 'utf8', 'binary');
encryptdata += encipher.final('binary');
encode_encryptdata = new Buffer(encryptdata, 'binary').toString('base64');
return encode_encryptdata;
}
var cryptkey = crypto.createHash('sha256').update('Nixnogen').digest(),
iv = 'a2xhcgAAAAAAAAAA',
buf = "Here is some data for the encrypt", // 32 chars
enc = AESCrypt.encrypt(cryptkey, iv, buf);
var dec = AESCrypt.decrypt(cryptkey, iv, enc);
console.warn("encrypt length: ", enc.length);
console.warn("encrypt in Base64:", enc);
console.warn("decrypt all: " + dec);
This results in either errors or garbage text every time. I have tried tweaking a variety of things as well.
I've tried this a hundred different ways, including using the -pass pass:password arg to no avail. Using nodejs, I have either gotten bad decrypt errors, or garbled nonsense back upon decryption. I have tried following many tutorials on the net, such as this one, and suggestions from this thread, and everything else I can find. I have read that different encryption programs use different standards, so compatibility across platforms/programs/languages is not always guaranteed, but I imagine somebody has been in this predicement before and knows a solution?
How would I, using nodejs, decrypt data encrypted by aescrypt2 (or a program like it)? I have only been able to make it work using a system exec call and having node execute aescrypt2 to decrypt/encrypt the data, which is not ideal, as it slows things down considerably. I am open to using a different program than aescrypt2. The only requirements are that it must run on Linux, cannot use openssl libs (because they are not supported on the target system), the program should be small and simple, due to space limitations, and foremost, the encryption/decryption needs to be compatible with nodejs. Any help would be much appreciated.
A:
How would I, using nodejs, decrypt data encrypted by aescrypt2 (or a program like it)?
Sorry to say, but there's no better answer than: by doing the exact same thing that aescrypt2 does when decrypting a file. You've linked to the source by yourself, so just perform the same steps in node.js as they do in C in the decrypt branch.
First of all, get familiar with the layout of the file containing the encrypted data:
/*
* The encrypted file must be structured as follows:
*
* 00 .. 15 Initialization Vector
* 16 .. 31 AES Encrypted Block #1
* ..
* N*16 .. (N+1)*16 - 1 AES Encrypted Block #N
* (N+1)*16 .. (N+1)*16 + 32 HMAC-SHA-256(ciphertext)
*/
So you need to extract the IV, the encrypted blocks and the HMAC from the file, not try to decrypt the whole thing as you try with openssl (your openssl example also does not use the right IV but rather tries to derive it from the key provided - read the man page).
Next, get the key right. The actual key used to encrypt/decrypt is not the one provided on the command line, but rather 8192 iterations of hashing the IV with the key passed on the command line, using SHA256.
Finally, they decrypt, using AES-256-ECB (your openssl and node.js examples use CBC!), every 16 bytes and XOR the result with the pervious 16 bytes (the IV is used for the first 16 bytes).
There's maybe more to it, I just listed the most obvious things I saw when reading through the aescrypt2.c code.
So my advise is: try to write the same logic in node.js and try to find node.js crypto calls for the respective mbedtls counterparts.
I'm not a crypto expert, but I bet that the aescrypt implementation has so many steps that feel complicated (like generating the actual key used), because they know how to do crypto and are just doing it the right way.
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Real Madrid and Barcelona Meet in the Spanish Super Cup
Published August 13, 2017 by Florin P
The first El Clasico of this season has Real Madrid and Barcelona playing for the Super Cup (9:00 p.m UK Time).
Real Madrid won the domestic championship last season and also prevailed in the Champions League. It was a major victory for the club and a direct triumph against Barcelona, who had to settle for the Copa del Rey. Now the two teams lock horns for the first time this season as they play for the Super Cup at Camp Nou in Barcelona.
Home Pitch Advantage for the Catalans
Real Madrid and Barcelona have traditionally won more points when they had to advantage and this gives the Catalans the edge tonight. The fact that the Super Cup will be decided at the end of a two legged matched means that both teams will think about the second fixture. Barcelona will try to win the opening round and that's why the starting formation looks more offensive.
The friendly games campaign has pitted them against some of the best teams in the world and they won all three matches. Manchester United, Juventus and Real Madrid were all powerless to stop them and conceded plenty of goals. This gives Barcelona an edge over their archrivals and bolsters their morale.
Terrible Campaign of Friendly Games for Real Madrid
The reigning Champions League and La Liga champions are still reeling after the ICC matches played last month. They lost all three of them and were outplayed in every single match, which doesn't look too promising ahead of this fixture. Avoiding defeat in the first official match is something that Real Madrid will prioritize, so the starting formation doesn't look to offensive.
Even odds on Barcelona to win at home are always good value, even when they play against Real Madrid. bet365 Sports is generous enough as to double the investment of those who bet on the Catalans to prevail and make an accurate prediction. A bet on at least three goals to be scored is an option worth considering.
bet365 Sports
A New Season of Spanish La Liga Starts Today
Effective and Compliant Competition: More Players, not More Pay | {
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Complete puzzles to restore the fabric of time!
The fabric of time has ruptured, causing precious artifacts throughout history to disappear! You must find the Object Tiles scattered across time to restore the creatures, objects, and people of our past… and our future. Complete puzzles in over 70 levels, from prehistoric times to the distant future. Use new power-ups like the Supernova Tile, as well as old favorites like Gem Tiles and Freeze Tiles. Try to beat the clock, or relax with Untimed Mode. Play the anticipated sequel to the original Mahjongg Dimensions Deluxe today! | {
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} | 4,822 |
Home G Style Gaming G Style's Top Game Picks This Holiday Season
Gaming Hardware & Accessories
G Style's Top Game Picks This Holiday Season [2019]
Mike Bitter
It's the month of November and as we begin to inch closer and closer to the winter (At least here on the East Coast) we are also getting closer and to not just Black Friday but the Xmas shopping season.
Each year you can expect a constant. People are going to buy a new TV, game console and most definitely, games. Since I'm the gaming nerd here at G Style, i'll be focusing only on the games. I won't bother with consoles since there are only three and buying a console is kind of a default choice for the holidays. These are the games that I think are the best holiday pickups. These are games I've also actually played and put more time into than most of the other games I played and I play A LOT of games. These are also games that focus on value per dollar, not necessarily the "BEST" game.
MOST REPLAY VALUE AND BANG FOR THE BUCK: NBA 2k20
There is no game in my opinion that has more replay value than NBA 2k20. Kids and grown men (women too) wait for this game every year and it's a frenzy when it comes out. It's overtaken Madden as I see it. Everybody loves the NBA and with it's popularity rising it's not hard to figure out why this game is THE game to get this holiday season. It's constantly being updated with new content and roster updates. The competitive multiplayer is a ton of fun and it leads to hours of play and chat online with your friends anywhere. The MyPlayer, MyCareer and a plethora of other game modes in this game add to its replay value. Even novice players such as myself can't help but hooked into this game because its incredibly detailed, the players look as close as you can get as you see them on TV, the courts are exactly as you see them on TV, the AI while frustrating at times does force you to adjust your game and try new things to improve your game. You'll appreciate the learning curve. Every aspect of this game can be tailored to your liking for the best NBA experience. It's one of the most customizable and feature packed games there is and therefore my recommendation for the best bang for your buck game BY FAR.
BEST GAME TO TRY FOR THE FIRST TIME: DESTINY 2 – NEW LIGHT
Many people if not most will disagree with me on this but right now, as a game you should try for the first time if you haven't before is Destiny 2. Honestly, this does come with a little bit of favoritism considering that I'm an avid Destiny 2 player BUT this time around it's not about loyalty but in fact about value. Prior to the newest update to the game I would have never said this. Since, Bungie has now become independent from Activision, Bungie has been able to put forth the game they always intended to and the result has been a vastly improved experience and more of what the original beta players of the game had hoped for. Great for those players.
What about if you've never played before but you're considering it? Now is the best time to play because Bungie is offering Destiny: New Light which is a free version of the game that allows you to experience the combat and worlds of Destiny 2. You can play through the game, do the beginning campaign and then decide later on if you want to progress buy a season and play the game as you see fit. You can play PvP, do strikes, public events and most of what the core game offers and you can do this as long as you have an active PS+ account or an Xbox Live account which you probably have if you're on either console already. PC players just need to have a steam account to download the game and the same rules apply. This is the best game to play for free right now and buy into later. Destiny 2: New Light
BEST LOOKING GAME THAT HAPPENS TO BE FUN: BORDERLANDS 3
Some games can be fun but not look that great and some games can look great and not be fun at all. Borderlands is not that game. This game is visually stunning, plays well and it's so much fun with the sheer amount of weapons, baddies and customization that you can do in this game. The third installment of this game further cements that it's a series that will not be going away anytime soon. Just watch the trailer. It's available on PC now as well for the master race folk.
BEST STRATEGY / CITY BUILDING GAME FOR ANYONE TO PLAY: CIVILIZATION VI
Playing a strategy game in itself sounds boring and usually it takes a certain type of person to want to play it. A lot of the time we stray away from these types of games because they can be mundane and repetitive and the degree of difficulty it requires can be overwhelming. This is what its been for me and I imagine others feel the same way. Until I found the perfect game. Sid Meier's Civilization. I started with Civ 3 and I have been hooked since. It was such an interesting take on empire building that didn't require a college degree. It just required some knowledge of your environment, preference for victory and your favorite world leader in history and you can start playing right away. There is a learning curve but it's not going to drive you crazy. I guarantee you that one you start playing you'll be hooked. 2K games constantly updates this game and tries to make it better. The layout of the game is well designed and it's pretty to look at especially once you build out your cities and you watch them take shape over time. If there's an interest in a good strategy game to play. Civilization VI is the one. In my opinion of course. Anno 1800 is another great option if you favor this type of game although Anno 1800 is a bit more difficult in terms of the learning curve but still tons of fun.
NINTENDO SWITCH GAME YOU MUST PLAY: LINK'S AWAKENING
Everybody loves the Legend of Zelda. No matter the type of game or whatever way Nintendo tries to spin it, The Legend of Zelda or anything related to it will always pique your interest. Earlier this year when it was said that Nintendo will be recreating the LoZ: Link's Awakening for the Nintendo Switch you can imagine the excitement from the Nintendo heads and gamers. The original was a Gameboy Color game and if you can remember or you have any idea what those games were like then you know that they weren't very good in comparison to what we have now. This is why Nintendo thought it best to take this opportunity to recreate Link's Awakening considering that it wasn't one of their more popular games in the franchise. What we got when Nintendo finished was an incredible recreation that is beautifully made, sticks to the core of what makes LoZ games what they are, dungeons, story, quests, hearts, everything you can think of. This is probably the most fun I've had on my Switch this year and I strongly recommend this game. Also look into Luigi's Mansion 3, Mario Maker 2 and Astral Chain as solid pickups as I see it.
BEST PC GAME
Pick one. There are so many, too many, I couldn't possibly pick. Sorry
BEST WEIRD GAME: OUTER WORLDS
When I first saw this game it gave me PTSD flashbacks of No Man's Sky (Which is NOT a good thing) because of it's similar look. Once, I got to playing it, I realize how good a game this is albeit kind of weird. Weird to me at least. I haven't quite figured out what this game is about and I've been playing it for a few days. I do know that the visuals are stunning, there's a lot to do, there's weapons, bosses, character building and all of the things that make up a good action RPG.
BEST REMAKE GAME: RESIDENT EVIL 2
Capcom's Resident Evil 2 remake is exactly what you want to see from a popular game from the 90's that's being re-done. No, Capcom didn't decide to clean up RE:2. They made it brand new in terms of up to today's standards. Resident Evil 2 was coincidentally my favorite game of the series and when I found out that Capcom did it over, I was all over it and I was NOT disappointed. This game is so well made. It's smooth, unlike the original you can really feel the sense of urgency in the game. The lighting, the scenery, the puzzle solving and of course Mr.X. This game is available on PS4 and Xbox but if you have the PC that can support it, I highly recommend you get in on PC, play in 1440p or 4K and you'll see what I mean. Oh, and play it in the dark if you got the heart. This game is a MUST have and MUST play and it's probably the cheapest game here at just $30 bucks.
These are the games that I personally feel are the best games to buy because of their replay value and bang for the buck. Yes, there are a ton of other games that I could have chosen, this list isn't perfect but I based this on games that I play often and my friends do as well. These games are all great games. Some may be for you and some may not be. There are so many games to play now so any list that you look at will be subjective and this is no different.
Any one of these games you pick will have you in front of your screen for hours on end and you won't feel as if you spent money for nothing. These games also have huge communities so if ever you get stumped on one of these games you can always refer to a Reddit thread or YouTube to get some info. That's invaluable as well. If you think I missed some games or you have some suggestions, hit us in the comments and let us know what you think.
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Mike Bitter is a born gadget head and true lover of technology. It all started with computer classes at age 10 and his first PC the Tandy 1000. From then on he found his love and he became a gamer and a PC builder and has not stopped since. He specializes in hardware, troubleshooting and custom PC building. He's known as the "fixer" amongst his friends whenever there is a problem with a PC or a Mac. He's also fully immersed in all things that pertain to the world of computers and gaming. He's an 80's baby and he grew up watching technology evolve from the NES to PS4 and from the Commodore 64 to the iMac. He has a unique and minimalist perspective on technology and is here to help the average person to understand technology today.
myCharge Camping Lantern Power Bank Review
iFrogz Airtime Vibe ANC Headphones Review
Building a budget PC? Go AMD Ryzen | {
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Vozrozhdeniye Island is a Russian island located in the Aral Sea approximately 1,300 miles to the east of Moscow that was used as a bioweapons test facility for the former Soviet Union. Since being decommissioned in the early 1990s the island has been left virtually unpatrolled. The island has served for decades as the repository of a large quantity of spores of Bacillus anthracis , the bacterial agent of anthrax, and other disease-causing bacteria and viruses. As the surrounding water has receded over the decades, direct access from the mainland to the island, and to the stocks of bioweapons that were disposed of by being buried on the island, will soon be possible. Concern is growing in the international community that the island will become a source of a new generation of bioweapons.
During its operation, the bioweapons facility on Vozrozhdeniye Island was regarded as an important strategy of the former Soviet Union in the tensions between the East and the West during the Cold War of the 1950s. Indeed, the word Vozrozhdeniye translates in Russian as "renaissance."
The island was used for open-air testing of bioweapons. The island was selected for its remote location and harsh conditions. The sparse vegetation and summer temperatures that reached 140 degrees Fahrenheit created inhospitable conditions that lessened the chances of survival for microorganisms that escaped. Records obtained following the island's decommissioning confirm that anthrax weapons were tested. As well, other microorganisms that were tested for their potential in biological warfare include the microbial agents of tularemia, plague, typhoid, and possibly smallpox.
The anthrax buried on the island was designed especially for the lethal use on humans in the time of war. The powder is a freeze-dried form of Bacillus anthracis called a spore. A spore is a form of the some species of Bacillus and Clostridium that protects the organism's genetic material during times when conditions are not favorable for the survival of the actively growing form of the bacterium. Bacterial spores that are capable of resuscitation and growth have been recovered from samples over 100 years old. Resuscitation of the spore requires only suspension in growth media having the appropriate nutrients and incubation of the suspension at a temperature that is hospitable for the bacterial growth.
Following the banning of offensive biological weapons programs in the United States and Russia, the biological warfare agents on Vozrozhdeniye Island were buried on the island in 1988. The island was abandoned in 1991.
Vozrozhdeniye island has remained unguarded since 1991. Then, it was thought that the island's location in the middle of the large and geographically isolated Aral Sea made the island secure from entry. However, in the intervening decades the demands for irrigation water have caused the Aral Sea—the largest freshwater lake in the world—to be used as a source of irrigation water. Water has consistently been withdrawn faster than it can be replenished. As a result, the water level of the Aral Sea has declined drastically, so much so that many scientists now fear that Vozrozhdeniye Island might soon be directly connected to the mainland. If so, and if the island remains unguarded, the buried stockpiled weapons could be vulnerable to theft.
Additionally, some surveys of the island have indicated that migration of some of the buried material towards the surface is occurring. Upon surface exposure, the bacteria and viruses, which may still be capable of infection, could be spread in the wind or transported elsewhere by birds.
Choffnes, E. "Germs on the Loose." Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists no. 57 (2001): 57–61.
Monterey Institute of International Studies. "Former Soviet Biological Weapons Facilities in Kazakhstan: Past, Present, and Future." CNS Occasional Papers. 2002. < http://cns.miis.edu/pubs/opapers/opl/opl.htm#island >(28 December 2002).
National Aeronautics and Space Administration. "Rebirth Island Joins the Mainland." Earth Observatory. < http://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/Newsroom/NewImages/images.php3?img_id=5 08 >(27 December 2002).
The Aral Sea is not fresh water, it is in fact extremely salty. | {
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Q: How to redirect HTTP pages without www to HTTPS in ASP.NET MVC 4 I have the following ASP.NET rewrite rule in Web.config file:
<rule name="Redirect to HTTPS" stopProcessing="true">
<match url="(.*)" />
<conditions>
<add input="{HTTPS}" pattern="^OFF$" />
</conditions>
<action type="Redirect" url="https://{HTTP_HOST}/{R:1}" />
</rule>
While this redirects www.mysite.com and http://www.mysite.com to https://www.mysite.com, it won't redirect if the www part is omitted. I also tried doing the redirection inside a custom action filter attribute, but that didn't work either. What do I need to do to fix this?
P.S. I'm using a self-signed certificate for development purposes.
| {
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Tag: India-US defence relations
2+2 = 4-5-6 of India-US relations
September 6, 2018 September 10, 2018 - by Manish Chand
Get your maths right. In the evolving arithmetic and calculus of India-US relations, 2+2 could add up to more than just 4. The 123 moment, crystallised in the transformational civil …
Amid China spat, US upgrades India's trade & strategic status
July 31, 2018 - by Manish Chand
In a transformative step to fructify the designation of New Delhi as its Major Defence Partner amid a changing strategic environment, the US has upgraded India's status as a trading …
The Trump Anxiety Index: Why India needn't worry
January 20, 2017 January 21, 2017 - by Manish Chand
The spectacular headline-hogging victory of billionaire tycoon and reality TV star Donald Trump, who took charge as the 45th president of the US on January 20, has unsettled the global consensus about America's leadership and position in a conflicted and mutating world order.
Nearly all parts of the world, impacted by the US' policies directly or indirectly, are speculating feverishly about the ramifications of the Trump presidency. The dominant sentiments are that of anxiety, befuddlement, uncertainty and unpredictability. These disparate worries and apprehensions can be coalesced and crystallised in the Trump Anxiety Index (TIA), which will rise and decrease in proportion to the policy and postures his presidency will adopt towards major cross-cutting issues.
The questions are proliferating by the day, but the Trump anxiety is more pronounced in some countries and regions of the world. On a scale of 1 to 10 on Trump Anxiety Index, China, Mexico and Pakistan will score high, maybe 7-8. By contrast, India scores low, maybe 3-4.
Why India is not so much worried about the Trump presidency? The answer to this all-important question is not all that esoteric. While there is some speculation about a possible reset in India-US relations in some areas, the picture is largely positive and optimistic, and it won't be an exaggeration to say that there will be more continuity than disruption and potential subversion.
Looking ahead, the picture for India-US relations is largely optimistic, albeit the road ahead is fraught with some challenges and imponderables. Both George Bush Junior and President Obama had raised the bar for what the latter has called "the defining partnership of the 21st century," and it is now up to President Trump to seize the initiative and leave his indelible imprimatur on this important relationship. Trump's dream of Making America Again should blend with continued support for India's rise, the ongoing project of making India great again. The hesitations of history, as PM Modi famously said, are well behind us, and it's time for the world's largest democracies to compose a new symphony amid challenges, uncertainty and free-floating anxiety. Read more…
Indo-US Defence Cooperation: Harvesting Defence Technologies
October 15, 2015 October 15, 2015 - by India Writes Network
It is raining defence technologies these days. On top of as many as 17 technologies offered by the United States for transfer to India, another 24 are believed to be …
Mapping next big steps in India-US Defence Partnership
September 28, 2015 September 28, 2015 - by India Writes Network
Ahead of Prime Minister Narendra Modi's visit to the United States, the Cabinet Committee on Security approved the purchase of Boeing's Apache and Chinook helicopters for the Indian Air Force. In a major impetus to defence ties, this deal worth $2.5 billion is the biggest defence contract signed by the NDA government after coming to power in May 2014.
Why PM Modi's visit to US matters: Making Big Ideas Work
All eyes are now on Prime Minister Narendra Modi's second trip to US after assuming charge last year and his third Summit with President Barack Obama in one year's time.
India-US defence ties: Pentagon touts India opportunity
At a time when India and the US are looking to take their defence ties to the next level, India has received a ringing endorsement from a senior Pentagon official. …
India-US defence ties flying high: Maritime patrol aircraft on way
July 13, 2015 July 13, 2015 - by India Writes Network
In an increasingly fragile and volatile neighbourhood, India is all set to upgrade its arsenal with a host of new high-tech acquisitions. This also comes at a time when the United States is all set to overtake Russia, Israel and France as India's largest arms supplier with deals worth $10 billion inked since 2007. With Pakistan and China inking some major deals in the recent past, this acceleration in defence relationship with the US is set to boost the modernization of India's armed forces. It would also help India strengthen its position with volatility increasing in the neighbourhood.
China Factor
One of the major acquisitions is going to be the deal of $1 billion for four P 8I planes that would be used for maritime patrol. This comes in the backdrop of China strengthening its presence in the Indian Ocean Region (IOR) as a part of its Maritime Silk Road strategy. With recent reports of Chinese submarines docking in Karachi lurking past Indian waters, it has raised alarm bells in the security establishment at New Delhi.
Pentagon and South Block are also set to begin negotiations in the next few days over the proposed $770 million deal for M-777 ultra-light howitzers under which the bulk of 145 artillery guns to be acquired in a government to government deal, will be made in India. This is also in sync with Prime Minister Narendra Modi's 'Make in India' initiative, which is expected to spur indigenization of the country's defence sector.
Modi-Obama bonding: The new normal high in India-US relations
First-name bonding, "Barack and I." Tete-a-tete over tea, "chai pe charcha." Bear hugs, hand-holding and a walk around the rose garden, "chalein saath saath". Footfalls echo in the memory… Well, one is not talking about puppy love of besotted lovers, but a tightening embrace of the world's two largest, engaged democracies in an all-embracing agenda whose reverberations are going to be felt in the years to come.
In Delhi's deepening chill, sparks flew and lit up a moribund nuclear deal and shone a new path of "shared effort, progress for all," as India's Prime Minister Narendra Modi and US President Barack Obama firmed up an ambitious template for re-igniting the defining partnership of the 21st century and walked the talk to deliver substantive outcomes. The new normal in India-US relations, which was construed to mean habituation to sub-optimal engagement, has morphed into the "new normal high." The big-ticket outcome of the Modi-Obama summit talks on January 25 was not just the nuclear deal, but the decisive shedding of ambivalence and diffidence, which will lead to the interlocking and intermeshing of the two engaged democracies across the full spectrum of economics and geopolitics.
Talking openly, resolving differences, joking with each other, and smiling naturally. This is the way to go for natural partners, and this hopefully should be the new normal high in the India-US relationship. No time for Mr Modi to lose sleep, the deal is done.
Pathfinder projects to transform India-US defence ties
India's burgeoning defence relations with the US are poised for a decisive transformation, with the two countries renewing their defence framework agreement and identifying four "pathfinder projects" for co-production and … | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 8,500 |
require 'choice'
Choice.options do
header ""
header "Specific options:"
option :source_dir, :required => true do
short '-s'
long '--source DIR'
desc 'Ganglia rrd directory'
end
option :dest_dir, :required => true do
short '-d'
long '--dest DIR'
desc 'Dir to create formatted symlinks in for graphite'
end
end
source_dir = Choice.choices[:source_dir]
dest_dir = Choice.choices[:dest_dir]
Dir.chdir(source_dir)
listing = Dir.glob('*').select {|f| File.directory? f}
listing.each do |l|
Dir.chdir(source_dir)
puts l
puts "Making top level dir #{dest_dir}/#{l} if it doesn't exist"
Dir.mkdir(File.join(dest_dir, l), 0777) unless File.exist?(File.join(dest_dir, l))
puts "Creating symlinks under #{dest_dir}/#{l}"
Dir.chdir("#{source_dir}/#{l}")
sub_listing = Dir.glob('*').select {|f| File.directory? f}
sub_listing.each do |sl|
source_path = "#{source_dir}/#{l}/#{sl}"
formatted_listing = sl.gsub(".","_")
dest_link = "#{dest_dir}/#{l}/#{formatted_listing}"
puts "Symlinking #{source_path} to #{dest_link} if it doesn't exist"
File.symlink(source_path, dest_link) unless File.exist?(dest_link)
end
end | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 7,719 |
**EARLY BIRD BOOKS**
**FRESH EBOOK DEALS, DELIVERED DAILY**
BE THE FIRST TO KNOW—
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_Also by Katherine Kurtz_
The Deryni Novels
The Chronicles of the Deryni
Deryni Rising
Deryni Checkmate
High Deryni
The Legends of Camber of Culdi
Camber of Culdi
Saint Camber
Camber the Heretic
The Histories of King Kelson
The Bishop's Heir
The King's Justice
The Quest for Saint Camber
The Heirs of Saint Camber
The Harrowing of Gwynedd
King Javan's Year
The Bastard Prince
The Childe Morgan Trilogy
In the King's Service
Childe Morgan
The King's Deryni
Other novels
King Kelson's Bride
The Bastard Prince
The Heirs of Saint Camber, Volume Three
Katherine Kurtz
For
my very dear friend,
DENIS O'CONOR DON,
Prince of Connacht.
If Ireland were still a monarchy,
he would be High King.
Contents
Prologue He hath put forth his hands against such as be at peace with him; he hath broken his covenant.
— _Psalms 55:20_
I Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.
— _Psalms 73:6_
II Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners.
— _I Corinthians 15:34_
III And if it be meet that I go also, they shall go with me.
— _I Corinthians 16:4_
IV Miss not the discourse of the elders: for they also learned of their fathers, and of them thou shalt learn understanding, and to give answer as need requireth.
— _Ecclesiasticus 8:9_
V There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.
— _I John 4:18_
VI Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice.
— _Job 4:15–16_
VII Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
— _II Corinthians 9:15_
VIII Who causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way, he shall fall himself into his own pit.
— _Proverbs 28:10_
IX Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.
— _Micah 7:8_
X Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward.
— _II John 1:8_
XI Keep thee far from the man who hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
— _Ecclesiasticus 9:13_
XII Whereas thy servant worketh truly, entreat him not evil, nor the hireling that bestoweth himself wholly for thee.
— _Ecclesiasticus 7:20_
XIII Rejoice not over thy greatest enemy being dead, but remember that we die all.
— _Ecclesiasticus 8:7_
XIV I have seen the foolish taking root.
— _Job 5:3_
XV And that we may be delivered from unreasonable men.
— _II Thessalonians 3:2_
XVI With arrows and with bows shall men come thither.
— _Isaiah 7:24_
XVII Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
— _Psalms 144:1_
XVIII For gold is tried in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity.
— _Ecclesiasticus 2:5_
XIX Who will bring me into the strong city?
— _Psalms 60:9_
XX Righteous lips are the delight of kings; and they love him that speaketh right.
— _Proverbs 16:13_
XXI And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie.
— _II Thessalonians 2:11_
XXII They gather themselves together against the soul of the righteous, and condemn the innocent blood.
— _Psalms 94:21_
XXIII Keep thee far from the man that hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
— _Ecclesiasticus 9:13_
XXIV Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.
— _II Timothy 3:4_
XXV And as troops of robbers wait for a man, so the company of priests murder in the way by consent.
— _Hosea 6:9_
XXVI For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
— _II Timothy 4:6_
XXVII I have seen the wicked in great power.
— _Psalms 37:35_
XXVIII A wicked messenger falleth into mischief; but a faithful ambassador is health.
— _Proverbs 13:17_
XXIX For she is privy to the mysteries of the knowledge of God, and a lover of his works.
— _Wisdom of Solomon 8:4_
XXX And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you.
— _II Peter 2:3_
XXXI His sons come to honour, and he knoweth it not.
— _Job 14:21_
XXXII Then the chief captain came near, and took him, and commanded him to be bound with two chains.
— _Acts 21:33_
XXXIII I speak of the things which I have made touching the king.
— _Psalms 45:1_
XXXIV Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore.
— _Ecclesiasticus 44:14_
XXXV But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.
— _Galatians 5:15_
XXXVI And those which remain shall hear, and fear, and shall henceforth commit no more any such evil among you.
— _Deuteronomy 19:20_
Appendix I: Index of Characters
Appendix II: Index of Places
Appendix III: Partial Lineage of the Haldane Kings
Appendix IV: The Festillic Kings of Gwynedd and Their Descendants
Appendix V: Partial Lineage of the MacRories
About the Author
PROLOGUE
He hath put forth his hands against such as be at peace with him; he hath broken his covenant.
—Psalms 55:20
The nagging drizzle of the night before had yielded to clearing skies at dawn, but a persistent overcast remained even at noontime on this chill day in early June of the Year of Our Lord 928, now seventh in the reign of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd. Climbing to the castle's highest rooftop walk, two women had braved a cutting wind to seek out a sheltered angle between cap-house and rampart wall, a natural sun trap that was warm enough to shrug off fur-lined cloaks and begin to thaw chilled bones while they resumed their watch of the day before.
It was a better place than most to await the return of their men, now several days overdue. To the south they could see for miles across the vast plain of Iomaire—and a lesser distance eastward, to where the mists of the Rhelljan foothills obscured the approach to the vital Coldoire Pass. It was toward this pass that their men had ridden, more than a week ago, and it was toward Coldoire that the elder of the pair now turned her gaze yet again, shading her dark eyes against the glare of sunlight on persisting tatters of fog.
She had kept this kind of vigil all too many times before. Sudrey of Eastmarch had been chatelaine of this castle for fully twenty years. She was hardly more than a child herself when she first came to Lochalyn as a bride and, within the year, bore the daughter who would become the taller, redheaded young woman fretting at her side. Apart from the death of a beloved brother, a decade ago, the intervening years had been mostly kind, though she and Hrorik had never been blessed with any more children. Stacia was their only child and sole heir, herself now a mother, suckling an infant son but hours old when his father and grandfather had spurred urgently toward the Coldoire Pass to investigate reports of Torenthi troop incursions.
"D'ye think it's only yesterday's storm that's delayed them?" Stacia suddenly blurted, startling one of the wolfhounds basking at her feet as she rose to peer out over the rampart again, clasping her son closer. "Dear God, what if sommat's happened to Corban? They should hae been back days ago. Oh, sommat's happened—I know it has!"
"Hush, child. We don't _know_ anything yet."
But as Sudrey of Eastmarch gazed out at the Coldoire mists, her lips compressing in a tight, expectant line, she very much feared that she did know more than she cared to admit. Not of Stacia's beloved Corban, but of her own dear Hrorik.
The dread confirmation would come soon; she could feel it. She carried but little of the blood of the magical race that once had ruled this land, and she had denied what she had for more than half her life, but it was enough to give her sudden, blinding flashes of unsought knowledge when she least expected or wanted it. Nor had she ever received but rudimentary training in the use of the powers that might have been hers to command, for she and her brother had been orphaned young and brought up by their uncle, a Deryni lordling whose abuse of _his_ power and privilege eventually had led his tenants to turn on him and kill him.
That had been just on the eve of the overthrow of King Imre of Festil and the Haldane Restoration. After that had come the turmoil and wars that left her and her brother hostages of Hrorik's father, the fierce but kindhearted Duke Sighere of Claibourne, for she and Kennet were both of them distant kin to the royal House of Torenth. In those days, she had deemed it the better part of prudence to pretend that she had no powers at all; and after a time, she had almost forgotten that she ever did. She had never expected to fall in love with one of her jailer's sons...
Her wistful recollections had distracted her from her watch across the castle ramparts, so that it was Stacia who first saw the riders, first only a handful and then dozens of them, picking their way slowly and painfully along the muddy, winding track that led down from the mist of the Rhelljans to approach the castle gates.
"They're comin'!" Stacia breathed, pressing hard against the rampart edge as she squinted against the glare. "Look ye, there's Da's banner!"
Sudrey's breath caught in her throat as she, too, began to make out the battle standard borne by one of the lead riders—a silver saltire and two golden suns against an azure field.
"Mother—I dinnae see Corban's banner," Stacia cried. "Mother, where is't? Corban—"
She was turning to careen down the turnpike stair before Sudrey could stop her, moaning and clutching her son fearfully to her shoulder, the wolfhounds lumbering after. Behind her, Sudrey cast her own anxious gaze over the approaching riders again, now seeing what her daughter had failed to notice: the dark, irregular shape bound across the saddle of one of the horses nearer the banner, wrapped round in a greeny tweed cloak that she herself had mended before her husband rode out, what seemed like an eternity ago.
Later, she would not remember her own numbed descent of the narrow, winding stair; only that, all at once, she was down in the castle yard with men and horses churning all around her, the din and the stench of blood and death almost beyond imagining. Across the yard, her son-in-law all but tumbled from his spent mount to stagger toward her, one bandaged and bloodstained arm braced around the shoulders of his weeping but relieved young wife.
He was grimy and exhausted, young Corban, his helmet gone, his sweat-matted black hair mostly pulled free of its border clout, his leather brigandine showing the signs of heavy battle survived. As he reached Sudrey, he collapsed to armored knees at her feet, his broad, leather-clad shoulders heaving with a dry sob as he crushed her to him with his free hand, burying his bearded face against her skirts.
"Forgive me, I couldnae save him!" he gasped. "They've ta'en Culliecairn—God knows why! We lost dozens, an' most of those returnin' carry wounds. They lured us wi' a flag o' truce, then o'erran us. We must get word tae Sighere an' Graham an' beg reinforcements—an' from the king!"
"Is it invasion?" Sudrey heard herself calmly asking.
"I cannae say." Corban raised his head and drew back a little, dark eyes as bleak and empty as her heart. "They wore the livery o' Prince Miklos of Torenth. It _could_ be one prong of an all-out invasion. We must see if Sighere's outposts hae seen activity in the Arranal region or along the coast."
Her mind flicked back at once to a private meeting several months before at Lochalyn: herself, Hrorik, and the strikingly handsome Prince Miklos—who was technically a distant cousin—and another, slightly younger man, as dark as Miklos was fair, then presumed merely to be the prince's aide. Hrorik had reluctantly encouraged the meeting, not out of any love for Torenth but in hopes of putting to rest nearly seven years' worth of letters sent periodically from the Court at Beldour, the Torenthi capital, badgering his wife about her hostage status.
She had answered _that_ question quite firmly: that she was no longer hostage or Torenthi, but gave her loyalty to her husband's liege lord in Rhemuth. The Torenthi prince had been quietly furious. Hence, this present conflict probably was not really about border disputes; it was Miklos' response to her refusal to espouse the cause of his companion, finally revealed as Prince Marek of Festil, Pretender to the Crown of Gwynedd. And now Sudrey's refusal had cost her her beloved Hrorik and the lives of many other loyal Eastmarch men.
"I do not think there will be activity farther north," she whispered, raising her gaze above Corban's head to where Eastmarch squires and men-at-arms were loosing the lashings that held a sad, tweed-wrapped shape across the saddle of a spent bay mare. "This is not the true invasion—though eventually, that will come. Hrorik and I had feared that such might happen, but not so soon. Prince Miklos tried to win me to his cause some months ago, appealing to my Torenthi blood. I refused, and this is the result. It has to do with the Festillic Pretender."
"A feint, then, for testin' the waters?" Corban asked, leaning heavily on Stacia to get to his feet.
"Aye—and perhaps a deliberate provocation, to lure the young king out of Rhemuth. They will know, or at least suspect, that he is not a free agent. I pray that, in meeting this new threat, he is also able to come into his own."
"God grant it!" Corban said fervently. "But meanwhile, I must see that Eastmarch doesnae become the Pretender's own." He bent to press his lips to his son's forehead, then thrust his bewildered wife from him as he called to several of the Eastmarch captains.
"Attend me, men of Eastmarch. We must ride for Marley, to seek Sighere's aid. Elgin, I need those fresh horses _now_. Nicholas, have ye seen to those provisions? Murray, I give ye command o' the garrison here at Lochalyn. I'm takin' half a dozen men, in addition to Elgin. Will that leave ye enou' tae hold the castle?"
Stacia looked thunderstruck, though Sudrey knew that Corban was only doing what he must, under the circumstances. He was a good commander, the son she had never borne. Behind him, some of the fittest-looking men were already mounting up again, others shouting answers to his questions.
"But, ye cannae just leave!" Stacia wailed. "What about my da? What about our bairn? What about _me_?"
" _Mo rùn_ , my heart, your da is dead. I share yer grief, but I cannae change fate." He turned aside to nod gruff thanks as a man brought up a fresh horse, setting foot to stirrup and springing up into the saddle. The animal was fractious, and nearly unseated him as another man offered him the flapping Eastmarch banner.
"But—that's my father's banner!" Stacia gasped, clutching her son closer and barely avoiding the horse's hooves as her husband fought his mount and deftly footed the banner's staff at his stirrup.
"Stacia, my daurlin', have ye no been listenin'?" Corban said. "This is _your_ banner, now that yer father is dead. 'Tis you who are Countess of Eastmarch. An' that makes me _Earl_ of Eastmarch, so 'tis also _my_ banner. An' one day, if we all live through this, it will be _his_ banner." He jerked his bearded chin toward their now squalling son, then cast a beseeching look at his wife's mother.
"My lady, I beg ye to make her understand. I cannae delay more. See to the wounded. Bury Hrorik. Hold this castle, howe'er best ye can. I'll bring ye help as soon as I may. Murray's sendin' messengers on to Rhemuth to inform the king. God keep ye."
He was spurring back out the castle gates at the head of his tiny escort before either woman could gainsay him, the bright blue and gold and silver of the Eastmarch banner fluttering boldly above his head. Watching him go, Sudrey of Eastmarch, née of Rhorau, found herself already shifting into that calm, passionless efficiency that must be her bulwark for the next little while, setting aside the grief that would render her useless if she let it take over.
"Jervis, please start bringing the wounded into the great hall," she said to her household steward, turning her back on the men now carrying the long, tweed-wrapped bundle toward the castle's chapel. "That will serve the best as infirmary, until we can get everyone taken care of. Have the kitchen start boiling water and tell the women to gather bandages. And summon Father Collumcille and Father Derfel and that midwife from down in the village. She may be some help. And Murray—"
"Aye, my lady?"
"Did my husband's battle surgeon come back from Culliecairn?"
"He did, my lady." Murray was instructing the two messengers about to leave for Rhemuth, and looked like he, too, could use the surgeon's services—or at least a woman's hands—to clean and bind his wounds. "He's already working on some men o'er in the stable entrance."
"Well, have him move everything and everybody into the great hall as soon as he can. I want some order to this."
"Right away, my lady."
As she turned to deal with her daughter, she saw that Stacia, too, had rallied to necessity and training and was tearfully entrusting her baby to Murray's eldest daughter, with instructions to take the bairn upstairs to her bower and stay out of the way.
"I have to be strong now, for my da," Stacia told her mother tremulously, lifting her chin and wiping away her tears on the edge of a sleeve. "He raised me tae be his heir. He'd be shamed if he thought I couldnae take care o' his men—of _my_ men."
In the din of milling horses and clanking armor and shouting and moaning men, the two made a tiny island of calm as, arms around one another's waists, they began to head purposefully toward the great hall. Behind them, the messengers chosen to carry word to Rhemuth swung up on fresh mounts and galloped out the castle gates.
CHAPTER ONE
Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.
—Psalms 73:6
The Eastmarch messengers exhausted a succession of mounts in the days that followed, galloping into Gwynedd's capital less than a week after the taking of Culliecairn. Almost incoherent with exhaustion, the pair made their initial report to a hastily gathered handful of Gwynedd's royal ministers, then were whisked away for further interrogation in private by Lord Albertus, the Earl Marshal, and certain members of his staff. The king was told of their news, but was not invited to join the impromptu meeting now in progress in Gwynedd's council chamber.
"Aside from the military implications, this is going to raise certain practical complications," Rhun of Sheele said, sour and suspicious as he sat back in his chair. "For one thing, the king is going to want to go."
Lord Tammaron Fitz-Arthur nodded patiently. As Chancellor of Gwynedd, it was his duty to preside over meetings of the king's council when the king was not present—and in fact, he presided even when the king _was_ present—but formalities hardly seemed necessary with only four of them seated around the long table.
"Of course he'll want to go," Tammaron said. "It's only natural that he should wish to do so—and were the decision up to him, there would be no question. There's a risk involved, of course. Not only might he be killed, but he might be tempted to assert his independence. However, I believe that both possibilities pale beside the very real prospect that this is the challenge we've been hoping to postpone."
At Tammaron's right, quietly imposing in his robes of episcopal purple, Archbishop Hubert MacInnis nodded his agreement, one pudgy hand caressing the jeweled cross on his ample breast. Those who did not know him well saw what he wanted them to see: an affable if oversized cherub, ostensibly godly and devout, rosy face framed by fine blond hair cut short and tonsured in the clerical manner, tiny rosebud lips pursed in a languid pout.
But the apparent innocence of the wide blue eyes was deceptive, and the cunning mind behind them had contrived the death of more than one person who stood in his way. In the last decade, the Primate of All Gwynedd had become the single most powerful man in the kingdom.
"This is damnably inconvenient, if it _is_ the challenge," Hubert muttered sullenly. " _Damn_ , why couldn't they have waited even another year? A second son would make all the difference."
"You're assuming that the queen carries another son and not a daughter," said the archbishop's elder brother, Lord Manfred MacInnis, seated across from Hubert. He was a beefy, red-faced man in his mid-fifties, muscled where Hubert was merely fat, his sunburned hands scarred and callused from years of wielding a sword. "I wouldn't worry so much about potential heirs as I would about the man who wears the crown right now. If this _is_ the challenge we've been dreading, 'tis we and the present king who will have to meet it. And if he can't do that, not even another prince will be enough to ensure the continuance of the Haldane line in power—and us as the power behind the throne."
It was no more than a simple statement of fact. The men seated around the table, the core of the Royal Council of Gwynedd, had been virtual rulers of Gwynedd for six years now, since plotting the slaying of the sixteen-year-old King Javan Haldane in an "ambush" far to the north—blamed on Deryni dissidents—and simultaneously masterminding the coup that put his brother, Rhys Michael, on Gwynedd's throne, though king only in name.
The cost had come high, for the hollow crown this youngest Haldane prince had never sought. Not alone had he lost a beloved brother and king, but the shock of the sudden and brutal slayings surrounding the coup at Rhemuth had caused his young wife to miscarry of their first child—a supreme irony, for eventual control of an underage Haldane heir had been a large part of the ultimate purpose behind the coup.
The new king had not truly comprehended the scope of his captors' ambitions in the beginning. It was horror enough that _he_ must fall under their control. Drugged nearly to senselessness during the coup itself, he had been kept drug-blurred for some months thereafter, all through the public spectacle of his brother's burial and then the sham of his own coronation.
Only when he had been safely crowned did they make their intentions clear—and underlined their demands with threats of the most abhorrent nature concerning the fate of his queen if he did not comply. He had been spared to be a puppet king and to breed Haldane princes who, in due course, would fall totally under the sway of the great lords—and under the sway of regents, if their father made himself sufficiently troublesome that he must be eliminated before a tame heir came of age.
Fortunately for all concerned, especially the king, the prospect of another regicide became less and less likely as the first few months passed. Though dispirited at first, the new king gradually seemed to become reconciled to the inevitability of his situation, allowing himself to be shaped as the docile and biddable figurehead they required.
Compliance slowly bought small indulgences. Once the king ceased to be argumentative or to display stubborn flashes of independent thinking, permission was granted for him to attend routine meetings of the council. A satisfactory history of behavior at council meetings earned him the privilege of presiding over formal courts, though always closely attended and working from a carefully rehearsed script. Very occasionally, the queen and later their young son were allowed to appear at his side on state occasions. After the first year or so, when it appeared that he had accepted the restrictions placed upon him and decided to make the most of royal privilege, they had even allowed him to resume his training in arms, against just such a threat as now seemed to be materializing. The queen's new pregnancy seemed to confirm Rhys Michael's capitulation, though there were some seated around this table who still had reservations.
"Let's get down to specifics," Tammaron said. "This hardly comes as any great surprise, after all. We've been aware of increased Torenthi troop movements up along the Eastmarch border since last fall."
Several of the others nodded their agreement, and Rhun muttered something about having warned them long before that.
"It's just the sort of beginning we might have expected," Tammaron went on. "A test incursion into—"
The door to the council chamber slammed back without preamble to admit Paulin of Ramos, black-clad and predatory looking as he stalked into the room. The mere presence of the Vicar-General of the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ produced no dismay, for he was as heavily involved in intrigue as the rest of them, and one of the architects of their rise to power, but he had been expected to remain with his brother Albertus, questioning the messengers.
"A Torenthi herald has just arrived under a flag of truce," Paulin announced, flouncing angrily into his usual place to Hubert's right. "The man demands an immediate audience of the king and declines to reveal his business except in the king's presence."
"Do you think he comes from King Arion?" Manfred asked.
"No, I do not. I thought so at first, but the Torenthi arms on his tabard are differenced. The black hart is gorged of a coronet. That's Arion's brother."
" _Miklos!_ " Rhun muttered.
"And the Eastmarch messengers claim that Miklos was behind the taking of Culliecairn," Tammaron said, enlightenment dawning on the angular face.
"Precisely," Paulin agreed. "I'd say that the timely arrival of Miklos' herald tends to confirm their story. The question now becomes, is Miklos acting alone, or for King Arion, or for Marek of Festil, as he has in the past?"
Uneasiness murmured around the table at that, for the prospect of an eventual Festillic bid to take back the throne of Gwynedd had loomed with increasing probability since 904, when Cinhil Haldane, the present king's father, had ended a Festillic Interregnum of more than eighty years by ousting and killing the unmarried King Imre. There it might have ended, except that Imre's sister, the Princess Ariella, had been carrying his child when she fled. Later legalists had tried to claim that the royal pregnancy derived from a dalliance with one of her brother's courtiers, by then conveniently dead, for mere illegitimacy was not necessarily a bar to inheritance in Torenth, but everyone knew that Imre was the father.
The child born of this incestuous union the following year had been christened Mark Imre of Festil, though he now went by Marek, the Torenthi form of his name, and was accorded the title of prince among his Torenthi kinsmen. The House of Festil was descended from a cadet branch of the Torenthi royal line—Deryni, all—and Torenth had provided troops for Ariella's unsuccessful attempt to take back the throne lost by her brother. Following her death in that endeavor, her son and heir had been brought up among the Deryni princes of Torenth, biding his time until conditions were right to make his own try for his parents' throne. Prince Marek now was twenty-three, a year older than his Haldane rival in Rhemuth, recently married to a sister of the King of Torenth and lately the father of a son by her.
"I would think it very likely that Marek is, indeed, behind this," Tammaron said thoughtfully. "Having said that, however, I am not altogether certain we can assume that this is a serious bid to take back the crown. Marek is yet unblooded. He has an heir, but just the one; and many's the infant that dies young."
"Yet Culliecairn _has_ been taken," Manfred pointed out.
"Yes, but I suspect Miklos has done it on Marek's behalf," Tammaron countered. "And I seriously doubt that King Arion supports it. _He_ certainly doesn't want a war with us right now, because he hasn't got adult heirs yet either.
"No, I would guess this to be a drawing action, almost a field exercise, to see what we'll do. Marek hasn't the support to make a full-scale invasion and won't until his heir is of age. I think he wants to flex his muscles and size up his enemy—and perhaps test to see whether it's true, that the King of Gwynedd is not his own man."
"Which means," Hubert said, "that the king must be seen to be his own man, and a competent one, by riding with an expeditionary force to free Culliecairn. I'll grant that there is some small risk, if he should take it in his head to actually try to lead," he added, at the looks of objection forming on several faces. "On the other hand, he knows full well that if he should meet his death in such a campaign— _for whatever reason_ —young Owain would become the next king, with the certainty of an actual and open regency until the boy reaches his majority."
"I can't say I'd mind a ten-year regency," Manfred said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair.
"No, but the queen would," Tammaron said. "And she'd sit on the regency council by right. Would her brother sit as well, Hubert? He's the boy's uncle; it's customary."
"The king, ah, has been persuaded _not_ to name his brother-in-law to the regency council," Hubert said, pretending to study a well-manicured thumbnail. "Something about concern for the young man's health, I believe—the strain of the office, and so forth."
"And it won't be a strain to keep him on at court?" Rhun said archly. "If I'd had my way, he would have been killed six years ago."
Hubert favored the younger man with a droll smile. "Fortunately for him, dear Rhun, you were away supervising another killing at the time. But rest assured that Sir Cathan understands the precarious nature of his position and will do nothing to jeopardize his access to his sister. Nor will she do anything that might endanger his life—or even worse, from her perspective, force us to forbid her access to her son. So long as both of them maintain the utmost discretion and circumspection, I am content that Cathan Drummond should remain in the royal household, if only for the sake of appearances. Besides that, his presence reassures the queen, who will bear stronger princes if her mind is at ease. 'Tis a small enough inconvenience, I think—and one that is open to immediate reassessment, if either of them should abuse the privilege."
Rhun snorted and shook his head. "I'd still rather he were dead."
"That's as may be, but at very least, nothing must happen to him during the queen's pregnancy. Do I make myself quite clear?"
"You do."
"Good. Because whatever else happens, she carries the second Haldane heir, our backup for Prince Owain. Worry about that, if you insist upon worrying about something. Whether or not the king survives this current crisis, Michaela could die in childbed—or worse, the child might die. And if the king should die, whether on a campaign into Eastmarch or as a result of his own folly, the shock could cause her to miscarry again; it happened before."
"Aye," Tammaron breathed. "So all Haldane hopes ultimately hang on one small four-year-old."
"Precisely. For that reason, and to prevent the boy being brought untimely to the crown, I rather think that the king, his lady wife, and her brother will continue to do whatever we require of them."
Hubert's words brought nods of agreement. That the king was a devoted father was hardly any secret, but of the five men seated around the council table, the archbishop perhaps knew the king best of any of them. Though Tammaron and Rhun had been among the original regents appointed to rule Gwynedd during the minority of King Alroy, Rhys Michael's sickly eldest brother, it was Hubert who, because of his office, had been in a unique position both to interact with the three Haldane princes himself and to require detailed reporting from the priests who were the princes' teachers and confessors.
Nor had his influence ended with the end of the regency. For it was also Hubert who, with Paulin of Ramos, had been responsible for the plot that eventually put Rhys Michael on the throne. Accordingly, Hubert's opinion held weight in proportion to his physical size, among these men who shared with him the governing of Gwynedd.
"Well, then," Manfred said, "I suppose we'd better let the king receive Prince Miklos' herald."
"Indeed, yes," Hubert replied. "I'd already informed him of the news from Eastmarch. Before court is convened, I shall be certain that he understands both the political and personal implications of any independent action he might contemplate and that he knows precisely what is expected of him."
CHAPTER TWO
Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners.
—I Corinthians 15:34
Following Hubert's second briefing, the king could harbour no illusions regarding what was expected of him. As he dressed for Court, however, he reflected that he probably understood the implications of the coming audience far better than any of his great lords supposed.
Still a little stunned, nonetheless, he considered his situation as he crossed the fronts of a clean white shirt his body squire had just put on him, stuffing the tails into the waist of close-fitting black breeches and then holding out his arms for the sleeves to be fastened at the wrists.
At least the afternoon was mild, not at all like that other June, when his brother Alroy lay dying and his brother Javan had come back to Court, forever changing the destiny of the fourteen-year-old Prince Rhys Michael Alister Haldane. Seven years had passed since then, and Rhys Michael had been king for six of them—king in name, at least.
For now he knew, though he had not wanted to believe it at the time, that Javan's own great lords had conspired to be rid of him, the king they could not control, and to set Rhys Michael in his place. It had cost the youngest of the Haldane princes his innocence and the lives of his brother and the child who would have been his own firstborn son. It had also cost him his freedom for the future and sentenced whatever further progeny he might engender to a life dictated by the great lords. As King Rhys, he now came and went at their behest, all but worn down by the intervening years of subjugation, both physical and mental, with even the thought of further resistance almost battered into resignation and acceptance of what they required, if he wished to survive.
This latest development might not set too well with their long-range plans, though. Already, a faint pang of hope had flared in his breast, where he had thought all chance of deliverance nearly stifled.
He had a fair idea what the waiting Torenthi herald would say, based on Hubert's briefing and the news brought earlier by the Eastmarch messengers. The seizure of Culliecairn, with its castle and garrison and town, could not be tolerated. Culliecairn guarded the Torenth-side entrance to the Coldoire Pass, the most direct route through the northern Rhelljan Mountains between Eastmarch and the Torenthi Duchy of Tolan. Hubert had already mentioned the likelihood of an immediate campaign to free Culliecairn, even conceding that it probably would be necessary for Rhys Michael to go along. The king had been forbidden to make any official commitment without first clearing it with his advisors—which rankled, as such constraints always did; but the developing scenario also reminded Rhys Michael most pointedly that he was still an anointed king.
At least they had never forbidden him to _look_ like a king. Indeed, they demanded it, whenever they trotted him out for some state occasion that required his official presence. The great lords approved of keeping up appearances. The body squire kneeling at his feet had given his boots a final buff with a soft cloth and now was buckling golden spurs to his heels.
"Beg pardon, Sire," his senior aide murmured, easing past the squire with a plain white belt in his hands.
Faintly bemused, the king lifted both arms away from his sides to allow it. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Sir Fulk Fitz-Arthur was several years his junior, obliging and loyal enough in most things, but loyal first to his father, Lord Tammaron, if pushed to a choice. Rhys Michael tried to avoid forcing that choice whenever possible, for he honestly liked Fulk and sensed that the liking was mutual; but not for an instant did he believe that mere fondness might make Fulk overlook forbidden deviations from what the great lords permitted.
Far more certain was the loyalty of his other aide, who was shaking out a scarlet over-robe over in the better light of an open window. A year younger than Fulk, and brother to Rhys Michael's beloved Michaela, Sir Cathan Drummond had been a towheaded squire of twelve on that awful day of the coup, witness to much of the slaughter, nearly a victim himself, and as helpless as Rhys Michael to prevent any of it.
Fortunately, the great lords had stopped short of killing the queen's brother the way they had so many others of those loyal to the Haldanes. After several months' confinement following the coup, upon giving his solemn oath never to speak of what he had witnessed that day, Cathan had been permitted to return to the royal household, the token member actually to be chosen by the new king and queen and the only person, other than themselves, on whom they could always and utterly rely.
It had not taken Cathan long to discover what he must do in order to stay alive, even if he _was_ the queen's brother. Grudgingly permitted to resume his training in arms, as well as the gentler accomplishments expected of noble young men headed toward knighthood, he had quickly learned not to do _too_ well at anything that might suggest a threat to those who were the true masters at Rhemuth Castle. His eventual knighting, the previous Twelfth Night, had been one of the few acts as king that Rhys Michael had performed gladly, of his own volition. Permission to appoint Cathan as a second aide had been an unexpected dividend of the evening, though the king suspected expediency rather than charity to have been Hubert's motive. Now a belted knight as well as brother to the queen, Cathan was least apt to cause trouble if he continued directly in the royal household, where he could be watched. It kept Cathan himself under scrutiny, but at least it allowed Rhys Michael an adult confidant and ally besides his wife.
As if sensing the king's fond gaze upon him, Cathan came smiling now to lay the scarlet over-robe around his sovereign's shoulders. The fronts were stiff with gold embroidery, as were the wide cuffs of the sleeves, and the broad clasp Cathan snapped closed across the chest resembled the morse of a bishop's cope. He had pinned to the robe's left shoulder a large, fist-sized brooch with the golden lion of Gwynedd embossed upon it, the background inlaid in crimson enamel—Michaela's gift to the king on the birth of little Prince Owain. For the three of them, it had come to symbolize their hopes of a House of Haldane no longer fettered by the great lords.
Blessing Cathan for having thought of it, especially today, Rhys Michael let his fingertips brash the brooch in passing as he adjusted the hang of a flowing sleeve, knowing Cathan would catch the significance. Fulk had turned away briefly to fetch a burnished metal mirror, so missed the gesture entirely.
"A good choice, Sire," Fulk declared, as he angled the mirror to reflect the royal image.
"Yes, I thought so."
Critically the king studied the overall effect, nervously ruffling one hand through the short-cropped black cap of his hair as he turned to view himself from several angles. He would have preferred to wear his hair longer, perhaps pulled back in a queue or braid, but for some reason the great lords insisted that he keep it short—almost clerical in its severity, though without the shaved tonsure. He had often wondered why—further assertion of their control over every aspect of his life, he suspected. But it sometimes had occurred to him to wonder whether they thought that, as with Samson, they could keep him from gaining strength by cutting his hair.
At least the stark barbering let the Eye of Rom be seen. The great ruby glowering in his right earlobe had belonged to his father and both his brothers before him and was regarded as part of the official regalia of Gwynedd. King Cinhil had been the first Haldane to wear the stone, but the men who eventually became the great lords of Gwynedd remained unaware that it had been given to Cinhil by the Deryni mage later to be known as Saint Camber. Ancient tradition, likewise unknown to the great lords, identified the stone as one of the gifts of the Magi to the Christ Child, later sold to finance the flight to Egypt. Whether or not that was true, Rhys Michael regarded it as one of his few true links with the kingship he feared he might never wield in fact.
"This will do nicely," he said, turning back to Cathan. "Let's have the crown, then."
From a handsome wooden casket studded with brass nail heads, Cathan carefully lifted out the gold and silver State Crown of Gwynedd, with its leaves and crosses intertwined. Cabochon rubies the size of a man's thumbnail had been added to the crown since the coronation six years before, with lesser gems also gleaming among the crown's interstices. Against the sable Haldane hair, as Rhys Michael ducked his head to receive it, the effect was truly majestic.
"Yes, indeed," Fulk murmured approvingly, as he surveyed the king over the top of the mirror, and Cathan also grinned his agreement. "That should make the Torenthi herald sit up and take notice."
"Let's see, shall we?" the king replied, smiling.
Before that question could be answered, though, he must first submit to a final briefing, back in the little withdrawing room behind the dais of the great hall. Afterward, he was told to delay his entrance while the great lords took their own places and the hall had a chance to settle—which also gave him opportunity to survey his audience before he went out. He reviewed his instructions and prayed for courage as he cautiously twitched aside a fold of the heavy velvet that curtained the opening through the screens to the dais beyond.
The high-beamed hall was not as crowded as it might have been—which was just as well, since he expected this would be a rather less congenial court than most, based on the news from Eastmarch and that assumed to be borne by the Torenthi herald. Accordingly, he was a little surprised to see a fair number of ladies present—mostly the wives and daughters of the great lords or ladies from the queen's household, twittering anxiously among themselves as they settled on benches in the window embrasures that overlooked the castle gardens. A few were even carrying baskets of embroidery.
He supposed this did concern them, if Gwynedd went to war. Michaela had wanted to attend, but Hubert had forbidden it. He and Paulin were standing along the right side of the dais, Paulin apparently briefing the seated Archbishop Oriss, who had been specially summoned from his sickbed for the occasion and who looked as if he might not make it through the court Behind them, Tammaron was instructing a captain of archers, surreptitiously indicating the long gallery that overlooked the right side of the hall. Farther to the left, just off the dais, Rhun and Manfred appeared to be lecturing an angry looking Lord Richard Murdoch. Albertus was not in evidence. Out in the hall itself, scores of knights and lesser courtiers were also drifting toward the dais where the king shortly would emerge.
And far at the back of the hall, carefully watched by guards in Haldane livery, the legation from Torenth was waiting: half a dozen men-at-arms in eastern-style armor, cloaked in the tawny orange of the Torenthi House of Furstan. One of them bore a flagstaff trailing a banner of white silk. Beneath that banner stood a short, dark man who must be the Torenthi herald. As expected, his tabard bore the springing black hart of Furstan on a silver roundel, differenced of a golden coronet around its proud neck.
"I think they're about ready for us, Sire," Fulk murmured close by his right ear.
With a grunt for answer, Rhys Michael let fall the curtain and held out his hand to Cathan for the sheathed Haldane sword, laying it in the cradle of his left arm with the hilt like a cross at his elbow. At his nod, Fulk grasped an edge of the heavy curtain and drew it aside, following when the king and then Cathan had gone through.
Those first to notice his entrance stirred and then grew silent as he crossed the dais, turning to follow his progress and bowing when he passed, but not giving his arrival the formality of a state entry, lest too much ceremony acknowledge the importance of the men waiting. Rhys Michael acknowledged their bows with an air of preoccupation, settling stiffly into the throne-chair set under the Haldane canopy, and then handing off the Haldane sword to Cathan again. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing it were Javan still alive to sit here in his place, but he made himself dismiss the thought as futile. Javan was dead, and he was alive; and if he hoped to stay alive, he must be very, very careful how he handled this.
And as Constable Udaut came forward to inquire about the visitors seeking audience at the back of the hall, another reason for caution suddenly became clear. Lord Albertus was entering through the screen entrance at the other side of the dais, accompanied by the two haggard-looking Eastmarch messengers and a handful of his staff, mostly black-robed _Custodes_ knights. Among the latter, similarly garbed in black, was a small, dark man known only as Dimitri, said to be Deryni, though few at court were aware of that. Though ostensibly employed by Paulin and the _Custodes Fidei_ , his exact allegiance was unknown, the last time Rhys Michael heard—and it had been Javan who had told him that, in one of their last conversations before Javan rode off to what was to be his death. In the back of his mind, Rhys Michael had always wondered whether the mysterious Dimitri was at least partially responsible for the treachery.
It was certain that Javan's Deryni allies had not counted Dimitri an ally; and whether he was working _only_ for Paulin and his _Custodes_ remained an unanswered question. Not for the first time, Rhys Michael lamented the fact that not one of Javan's Deryni allies had managed to make contact with him since Javan's death, though reason reminded him of their small numbers even then; and the few that he knew of personally had died by the same treachery that took Javan.
The one ray of hope that made him keep believing that there had ever been Deryni backing for the House of Haldane was the fact that, as Javan had predicted, Rhys Michael gradually had learned to discern whether a man was telling the truth. This usually was a Deryni talent, he knew, and ordinary humans could not detect or prevent its use against them—a decided advantage in his present circumstances, except that even if Dimitri had not been present, the Torenthi herald and at least some of his escort undoubtedly were Deryni.
This rather canceled out any advantage his meager talent might have given him; for Deryni, though they could not prevent being Truth-Read, sometimes could detect it. It would not do for the Torenthi herald to know what Rhys Michael could do, even if he could keep it from Dimitri.
He dared not Truth-Read during court today, then—and he must guard his own words, for both the herald and Dimitri undoubtedly would seek to Truth-Read _him_. As Albertus and his party came to stand just behind Rhun and Manfred and Richard, the king shifted his attention back to Udaut, who had started purposefully toward the back of the hall.
Udaut did not announce the visitors waiting there; merely gave them leave with a gesture to approach, turning then to proceed back up the hall in the assumption that they would follow. They did, but the men-at-arms made their own statement of their presence, drawing to attention with much stamping and clashing of arms in martial drill, then pacing behind Udaut with heavy tread, the banner bearer and a bemused herald following almost indolently behind.
When the six guardsmen reached the dais before the throne, they came to a halt with another stamping of steel-shod feet and clashing of mailed fists on ornate breastplates, then parted to make an aisle through which their leader might proceed. The man with the banner footed his staff with a clash of metal against the wooden floor, dipping the white silk in salute as the herald gave a restrained, formal bow.
"Rhys Haldane of Gwynedd," the herald said, the clear voice lightly accented as he drew himself erect from his bow. The man's dark hair was cut short around his long face, the severity emphasizing high cheekbones and slightly canted dark eyes above a thin moustache and a small, close-clipped beard. "Hear the words of my master, the Prince Miklos of Torenth, who acts in behalf of his kinsman, the royal Marek of Festil, rightful king of this realm."
"Sir, you stand before the rightful king of this realm!" Richard Murdoch said, hotheaded and belligerent as he took a step forward, one gloved hand wrapped taut over the pommel of his sword. "You will observe appropriate courtesy."
The herald inclined his head indulgently toward the younger man. "My master has not sent me to debate titles, my lord. His message is for the Haldane."
"Then, speak," Rhys Michael said, before Richard could reply. "The Haldane is listening."
"My lord." The herald inclined his head again. "My gracious prince bids me instruct this court on the antiquity of the noble House of Festil, which sprang from the royal line of Torenth and ruled in Gwynedd for nearly a century. Prince Marek of Festil is the current representer of that noble house. Through his marriage last year to the Princess Charis, Duchess of Tolan and sister to my lord Prince Miklos and King Arion of Torenth, Prince Marek has confirmed, ratified, and strengthened his royal heritage. Already, the royal and ducal line is renewed and secured in the person of his firstborn son, the future Duke of Tolan, who also will rule one day in Gwynedd as King Imre the Second."
A low mutter escaped Rhun's lips, but Hubert slightly raised a pudgy hand in forbearance. Rhys Michael felt a cold chill of dread churning in his gut, spiced by anger, but the herald was not yet finished.
"To that end," the man went on, "and in celebration of the birth of the young prince, my lord Prince Miklos would invite the Haldane court to attend his nephew's christening at Culliecairn, which castle and town my lord Miklos means to present to the royal child as a christening gift."
A murmur of outrage began to ruffle through the hall, but the herald's voice rose above it as he continued.
"If the Haldane would dispute the giving of Culliecairn to this heir of Prince Marek, let him present himself before the city gates within ten days, no later than Saint John's Eve, prepared to show legal proofs why Culliecairn should not become the birthright of Prince Imre of Festil."
"By God, he goes too far!" Manfred muttered dangerously.
"He has some cheek!" Tammaron declared.
"This is an outrage not to be borne!" Rhun roared.
Though in total agreement for once, Rhys Michael kept his anger in check, staying further uproar of his great lords with an upraised hand which, somewhat to his surprise, was heeded.
"Peace, gentlemen. We must not confuse the messenger with the message. What is your name, sir herald?"
"Eugen von Rostov, my lord," the man replied, with a curt inclination of his head.
"Eugen von Rostov." Rhys Michael repeated the name, giving its pronunciation the same accent as its owner did. "Pray, forgive me if I appear to have missed something, but is it Prince Miklos or Prince Marek who affronts my sovereignty by laying claim to my property?"
Smiling faintly, the herald favored Rhys Michael with a graceful inclination of his dark head. "Why, 'tis not intended to affront Gwynedd's sovereignty, my lord, but to ameliorate a slight, no doubt unintentional, incurred when Gwynedd neglected to invite a representative of Torenth to your Highness' coronation. No doubt the precipitous timing of that event contributed to the oversight, following hardly a year after your predecessor's coronation. Nonetheless, my lord's advisors felt certain that your Highness would wish to make amends by attending a similarly auspicious royal event in Torenth."
"The christening of my rival's heir in Culliecairn, sir herald?" Rhys Michael replied. "Surely you jest. Not only that, your geography is faulty. Culliecairn is in Gwynedd."
The herald spread his hands in a dismissive gesture. "No longer, my lord. Furthermore, its giving to my Lord Marek's heir satisfies the social obligation of presenting suitable gifts at the christening of a royal heir. Having designated the castle and town of Culliecairn as a sufficiently princely endowment for his royal nephew, my lord Prince Miklos took possession last week, thus sparing you the effort of bringing a gift along."
"I prefer to make my own decisions regarding the giving of gifts," Rhys Michael said quietly, "and while I understand a father's pride in the birth of a son, you will excuse me, I hope, if I do not share your enthusiasm regarding a further pretender to my throne.
"Furthermore"—he gestured toward the messengers—"I am informed by these good gentlemen that your master's seizure of my property has cost the lives of many good men, including my loyal Earl of Eastmarch, to whom Culliecairn's security had been entrusted."
"No loss of life was intended," the herald said smoothly, "but alas, some men did die."
"Indeed, the death of the Earl of Eastmarch is the only thing that would have permitted your master's entry into Culliecairn," Rhys Michael retorted. He drew a deep breath before going on.
"I therefore must regard the action of your master as an act of unwarranted hostility on the part of a foreign prince. If Miklos does this as a private individual, then I shall appeal to his brother the King of Torenth, who is his overlord, for King Arion surely will not wish his vassal to threaten the borders of a neighbor with whom Arion himself is at peace. If it is done as a prince of Torenth, with King Arion's knowledge, then Miklos risks war between our two kingdoms. And if he does it in behalf of Marek of Festil, then he supports a rebellious and illegitimate claimant against my throne—which, again, could be construed as a formal declaration of hostilities between our two kingdoms. Pray, what is his intention, sir herald?"
The herald inclined his head. "My master has not confided his deeper motivations regarding such matters, my lord. I am instructed merely to convey his intentions regarding Culliecairn."
So saying, he reached casually to the small of his back, up under his tabard, and slowly withdrew a brown leather gauntlet, which he tossed almost offhandedly on the carpet at Rhys Michael's feet.
"If you wish a more formal declaration," the herald went on, "there is a gage in token of my master's claim. You may take it up or not, as pleases you, but to take back Culliecairn, you will have to discuss the terms with my master."
The gage lay a handspan from Rhys Michael's left boot. The challenge was not unexpected, and he had in mind what he must say, once he picked it up, but he knew he must confirm the terms with the great lords before he acted. He must also make himself calm down.
"Let my ministers attend me," he said, getting smoothly to his feet and glancing at Hubert, who nodded minutely. "The Lord Constable will see to our guests while we confer. Let refreshment be brought if they desire it. My lords, attend."
Within minutes, he was facing the agitated handful of them in the little withdrawing room behind the dais, one forefinger punching the air for emphasis as he argued his point.
"This news changes the entire focus of what was told me before court," he was saying. "It's a direct challenge to the sovereignty of this kingdom. You must let me answer it. If I don't, I lose all credibility; _Gwynedd_ loses all credibility."
"Sire, we aren't prepared to go to war with Torenth," Tammaron began.
"That's fine, since this isn't about a war with Torenth. Arion isn't behind this. It's Miklos, on behalf of Marek of Festil, and it isn't even a war with Marek. Do you really think _he'd_ make a true bid to take back the throne? Not now. Not with only one infant son between him and the obliteration of his house."
"Has it occurred to you," Paulin said, "that this could be a ruse to lure _you_ from safety? You aren't that much more secure than Marek, with only one heir living and hope of another. The man is Deryni, Sire. So is Miklos. So is Arion. What if they mean to use their accursed magic against you?"
Rhys Michael turned away with a faintly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, for he had no answer for that argument.
"I can't worry about that just now," he said softly. "As an anointed king, I believe and hope that divine grace will be granted me to withstand even their magic. It may also be that, against an army, magic is not so effective as it is against an individual man. 'Tis said that an arrow or a sword can be faster and more deadly than a spell—I don't know.
"But this I do know: If you allow any foreign prince to take and keep Culliecairn, which belongs to Gwynedd, then the very sovereignty of the Crown of Gwynedd is a sham, never mind the man who wears that crown. I've learned to accept my own impotence as a man, but I beg you not to further hollow away the crown you hope someday to put upon my son's head. What kind of a kingdom would you leave to _your_ sons?"
The question took Richard sufficiently off guard to silence him. Rhun and Tammaron were also at a loss for words, for all three had sons who stood to inherit the power wielded by their fathers. Manfred exchanged a glance with Hubert, for his sons, too—Hubert's nephews—had also benefited from the power wielded by their kin at court. Even Albertus became more subdued, for in order to become Grand Master of the _Custodes_ knights, he had resigned his title early to a son already at court—Bonner Sinclair, the young Earl of Tarleton, who was also nephew to Paulin.
Of all the men in that room, only Robert Oriss had attained his position of influence without the connivance of the former regents and had been uninvolved in the coup. Unlike Hubert, Rhemuth's archbishop had no relatives who stood to benefit from his high office; but seeing the royal house purified of its Deryni taints was an aspiration all of them shared.
"No one wishes to impugn the sovereignty of the crown, Sire," the old archbishop said slowly. "But perhaps Culliecairn does not represent an erosion of royal authority so much as an erosion of royal loyalties—in this case, loyalties _to_ the Crown. What of the Earl of Eastmarch, who should have protected and held Culliecairn for you? He has a Torenthi wife. It is even said she comes of Deryni stock. Who is to say that it was not Eastmarch's connivance that helped betray Culliecairn to its captors?"
"If so, he has already paid with his life," Rhys Michael said quietly. "But Hrorik would never betray me. I trust my northern vassals, and especially the Earl of Eastmarch and his kin. However, I betray _him_ , if I do not ride to the aid of his widow."
"Perhaps we ought to send a viceroy," Manfred said, clearly with himself in mind for such an appointment. "I like not the thought of putting your Highness at risk."
"If it were Culdi taken," the king replied, "and a taunting challenge came, would _you_ send a mere deputy? No, you would go. And this is the theft of a fortress at the northern gateway to my kingdom, to be handed over to the heir of my arch-rival, a man who would seize my throne. I will abide by your guidance, gentlemen, as needs I must, but surely you see why I must go."
They disputed the prospect for several minutes more, Tammaron and then Hubert sketching out the details of what he might say in his reply. Before they went back in, he slid the Haldane sword into its holders on his belt, setting his hand on its pommel as he returned through the curtained doorway that Fulk and Cathan parted for him. Up in the gallery, the watching archers lowered their bows and stepped back from sight, though their arrows remained nocked.
"I trust you will pardon the brief interruption," Rhys Michael said mildly, remaining standing as he faced the Torenthi herald once more. "I further note that the gage of your master's challenge yet lies before my throne. I find his belligerence most distressing, for I have never wished him ill, but I am prepared to respond in the way that I must, if he persists in this folly. Is he determined to press this futile attempt to give my castle of Culliecairn to the pretender's heir?"
"Not futile, my lord, since he does possess it," the herald replied. "What answer shall I give him?"
"Why, that I refute his claim and have taken up his gage," Rhys Michael said quietly, "for it is certain that neither your master, the Festillic Pretender, nor any other person outside Gwynedd shall keep Culliecairn." He bent and scooped up the gauntlet almost before anyone could react, hefting it briefly in one hand before tossing it deftly back to the herald, who caught it against his chest.
"Tell your master that I shall meet him at Culliecairn no later than the Eve of Saint John, at which time he shall render up my property," Rhys Michael said. "Tell him that I regret he has forced us to meet under arms, for I remember him kindly from my brother's coronation and would rather have counted him as a friend."
"When friendship would diminish a king's crown, he needs must discount it, my lord," the herald replied.
"Aye, that is true. I cannot count as friends those who befriend my enemies. If your royal master would assist the Festillic Pretender, who seeks to wrest back the crown my father restored after seventy years of usurpation, then he declares himself my enemy as well. Tell him what I have said and warn Marek of Festil that I shall ask and give no quarter where he and his are concerned. You may go in safety."
Without further comment, he turned on his heel and strode from the dais to disappear through the curtained doorway in the screen behind. Cathan and Fulk followed, nearly colliding with the king, who had stopped just inside to draw a deep breath, shivering in after-reaction.
"Well said, Sire!" Fulk whispered fiercely, as Cathan urged the king farther from the screen so other of the great lords could come through. Glancing back a little dazedly, Rhys Michael saw the Torenthi contingent making an uncertain withdrawal, for their audience had suddenly evaporated.
"You handled that very well, your Highness," Hubert said, suddenly beside him, his touch bringing back the king's focus in a flash. "Why don't you rest for half an hour or so? Be assured that Lord Albertus will see our visitors safely out of Rhemuth. Meanwhile, I'll have Lord Tammaron convene the council. You'll be called when we're ready for you again. Having made our decision, I would hope that the royal party could leave first thing in the morning. You'd best advise the queen. Fulk, Cathan, would you please accompany his Royal Highness back to his quarters?"
If the king objected to this cavalier treatment, he gave no outward sign of it, merely drawing deep breath and setting his hand resolutely on the hilt of the Haldane sword before mounting the turnpike stair that led back to the royal apartments. Hubert watched him go, joined a moment later by his brother, who also had been watching the exchange.
"He did that far better than I expected," Manfred said.
"Aye, there's a great deal to be said for Haldane blood," Hubert replied, "even when it's been suppressed. Imagine what the sons will be like, who will never have been exposed to corruption from outside."
Manfred nodded thoughtfully. "It's just possible that we may have gotten to him in time. I wouldn't have predicted it, after our rocky beginning." He snorted, with an ironic little smile. "Not that he has any choice but to follow our guidance, does he? Still, it's for his own good."
"And ours," Hubert reminded him.
"And ours, granted," Manfred agreed. "But it's for the good of Gwynedd, too, if we're to keep the Deryni taint out of Court. And isn't that what keeping the Festils at bay is all about?—besides preserving the Haldane line, of course."
Hubert nodded grimly. "Never the Festils again, no matter _what_ else we have to do to ensure it," he said emphatically. "But, go ahead and help Tammaron begin summoning the council. Take Archbishop Oriss with you. I want to have a word with Paulin. I'll join you directly."
Paulin was waiting for him in the little withdrawing room behind the dais screen, with several of his _Custodes_ brethren and the wiry little man known to them as Dimitri. The latter was cloaked and cowled in black, so that he looked almost like one of them, but he was not—not of their Order, not strictly of their faith, and not even fully human, by their reckoning, for he was Deryni.
Especially for this last reason, Paulin's _Custodes_ companions were giving him wide berth, bunched a little uneasily to one side of the fireplace while Dimitri stood before it, hands folded in the sleeves of his robe, gazing into the flames. He glanced around slowly, almost as if awakened from a sleep, as Paulin pulled two chairs closer for himself and Hubert and they sat.
"Tell us about the herald and his party," Paulin said without preamble. "All Deryni?"
"Aye, my lord, but very well behaved." Dimitri made them a profound bow, then folded to his knees before them to sink back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs. "It was almost as if they—sensed another Deryni presence in the hall besides themselves. Not I, my lord," he added, before Paulin could ask. "I kept my shields damped; they cannot have known. This meant that I dared not essay beyond the simplest Truth-Reading—but nor did they. That is what I meant by 'well behaved.' In fact, none but the herald even sought to Truth-Read. I would have expected more—some attempt to Read beyond the mere words of the king's responses, to catch any hint of bravado or bluff."
"Is it possible _he_ was bluffing?" one of the black-clad monks asked. "The herald, I mean."
Dimitri slowly shook his head. "I think not," he said thoughtfully. "The herald at least _believes_ that Prince Miklos holds Culliecairn for the Pretender's son and that the challenge has only to do with the future ownership of the castle."
"Then, could this be an excuse to draw our strength up to Coldoire while Torenthi forces make more serious encroachments elsewhere?" The speaker was a dark-haired _Custodes_ knight called Cloyce, who was one of Albertus' aides.
Dimitri inclined his head.
"I cannot rule out such motivations, my lord, based on what I perceived," he allowed. "You must rely upon more conventional information to confirm or deny such possibilities. All I can say for certain is that the herald spoke no direct lie in what he told the king—and that, beyond confirming that the king also did not lie, he did not press whatever advantage his blood might have given him, by attempting to probe beyond simple truth."
Hubert grimaced. "What about the king, then? Is it possible," he asked slowly, "that something in the king himself deterred closer scrutiny? You did mention another possibly Deryni presence in the hall. We've always believed Rhys Michael was untainted in that regard, but Javan or someone close to him was skilled enough to manipulate me briefly, all those years ago."
Looking almost perplexed, Dimitri shook his head. "Why do you persist in this questioning, my lord? You have never permitted me to examine his Highness—and I accept that it is because you fear I might somehow seize control and then manipulate him for my own ends, whatever you can think those might be, after so many years of loyal service—but some ability to shield is not that uncommon in humans, especially if the subject has been exposed to Deryni. Since all three Haldane brothers were in the care of Deryni tutors and Healers in their early childhood, it may be that the king retained some residual benefit from that time."
"I would hardly call it a benefit," Paulin muttered.
Dimitri shrugged. "If the herald was deterred from employing advantages he _might_ have utilized, then I should count it as a benefit, my lord," he replied. "But be advised that such shielding ability as is sometimes encountered in humans usually yields readily to physical contact. Had the herald had occasion to touch the king, the outcome might have been quite different—though, of course, any serious encroachment would take time, especially if one wished one's efforts to go undetected."
The Deryni agent's attempt to defuse any threat that might be perceived from himself did little to reassure most of the men listening, though Hubert, at least, did not seem alarmed.
"The king knows better than to let a Deryni touch him," the archbishop said flatly. "He fears those of Torenth far more than he fears us."
"So long as he fears us both," Paulin murmured, casting Hubert a sour look. "Shall we adjourn to the council chamber? They'll be mostly gathered by now, and we should agree on a plan of action before we summon the king to join us."
"Quite true," Hubert agreed, lumbering to his feet with difficulty. "Dimitri, you will hold yourself in readiness for the afternoon, but for now, you may go."
As he and Paulin headed out of the room, the two _Custodes_ men falling in behind them, Dimitri bowed low to touch his forehead to the floor, remaining thus until they had gone.
CHAPTER THREE
And if it be meet that I go also, they shall go with me.
—I Corinthians 16:4
In the royal apartments, meanwhile, the king was stealing a few minutes with his wife before duty called him back to the great lords' business. When he came striding into the solar that linked their respective sections of the royal apartments, he found her sitting in a pool of sunshine near the window while the youngest and prettiest of her maids combed out her freshly washed hair.
"My lord!" she cried, her face alight with the joy of him as she sprang to her feet. The royal blue of her overgown was a shade darker than her eyes, and the damp mane of her hair fell like a wheaten curtain nearly to her hips, shifting heavily as she handed off a towel to the maid.
Beyond her in the wide bay of the window, interrupted in their needlework and gossip, three of her ladies-in-waiting also rose—all of them chosen by the great lords, wives and daughters mostly, and also their agents and spies, not really friends. They fell silent and dipped in formal curtsies as he entered, civil enough after six years, and the little maid also bowed and backed away from the queen, her comb clutched to her breast and eyes downcast.
"Ladies," the king murmured.
He allowed himself a slight smile, but he ventured no further comment as he crossed the room and led Michaela into the privacy of their bedchamber. He had left the State Crown with Cathan when he came through his own quarters, but he still wore the crimson over-robe with the Haldane brooch.
"I'm to go," he said, the words falling with the threat of unknown peril as he drew her to sit beside him on the edge of the great state bed.
Like all the Court, she had known of the Eastmarch messengers who arrived earlier that morning, and her troubled gaze never left his face as he related the gist of what had just transpired in the great hall and the room beyond. She said nothing as he spoke, but he could sense her growing fear.
"So that's as much as I know, for now," he concluded, when he had outlined his intentions. "I don't _think_ this is the full-blown challenge we've been fearing—Marek of Festil wouldn't chance it, with only the one heir—but on the faint chance that it is, it's essential that I go in person. Not even the great lords could disagree. Shall you be very brave while I'm gone? If—anything should happen, you must be a strong regent for Owain and—"
His voice broke off as his gaze and one suddenly trembling hand dropped to caress the gently rounded curve of her abdomen. Shuddering, she stifled a sob and drew him to her, pulling him down on the bed atop her, seeking reassurance in his embrace. The faint perfume of her damp hair invited him to bury his face and hands in it, to drown his own apprehensions in loving her, but the knowledge that a summons from the great lords was imminent made him push such temptations to the back of his mind and draw apart a little. Raising up on his elbows, he took one pale hand to press a tender kiss to its palm.
"God, how I adore you, Mika," he whispered, searching her blue eyes. "I can hardly breathe for wanting you, but Cathan or Fulk will be knocking on the door any second. It's what I've been longing for—a council meeting where they may actually credit what I have to say—but it also means parting from you. Maybe forever, when I go tomorrow."
She summoned a brave smile and brushed trembling fingertips along the line of his jaw, letting them linger then on the Haldane brooch pinned to his shoulder.
"Have we not prayed for this day to come, my lord?" she whispered. "Not the parting, but the chance to assert your kingship. 'Tis so sudden, though—but a night away. Must you really leave so soon?"
He closed his eyes briefly, desperate fear churning at his gut, then sighed and sat up, turning slightly from her gaze.
"If I let them delay, they may find some new reason not to let me go," he said bleakly. "Besides that, if Culliecairn really is taken, as seems certain, then best to resolve the situation before Torenthi forces get too strongly entrenched there."
"I know you must go," she whispered, brushing her hand down his arm. "I would ride with you if I could. You know I would."
"Aye, my love, and I would take you with me," he replied. He dropped his gaze briefly, then held her close again.
"Oh, God, Mika, what if I don't come back?" he whispered. "What will become of you? What will become of our sons?"
"I will—try to be strong for them and for you," she said softly, tears welling in her eyes. "I will give my life, if need be, to see that they survive—and that they do not forget their Haldane legacy. The crown _will_ be free again, someday, my love—I swear it!"
"Ah, my fierce, proud queen," he murmured. "Now I _really_ don't want to go. And I especially don't want to go tomorrow, even though I've lived for this day for six long years now—the chance to actually be a king. I wish you could have seen me at court, Mika."
"I wish I could have been there," she countered softly. "Would that I could be at your side now—and tomorrow. We must—make tonight suffice for all our tomorrows."
She would have said more, but an enormous yawn caught her by surprise. After indulging it, she stretched and drew him to her for a quick, hard kiss, then flashed him a sheepish and apologetic smile.
"I must be certain to have a nap this afternoon," she said. "'Tis no reflection on the company, I assure you, but growing this baby seems to take such a great deal more energy than Owain—"
A knock at the door made them both freeze, and Rhys Michael reluctantly turned his gaze in that direction, though he kept his arms around her.
"Come."
Cathan poked his head into the doorway, tentative and immediately apologetic as he saw them. One of his hands clutched the sheathed Haldane sword, the other a thin gold circlet chased with Celtic interlace.
"Sorry, Mika," he said, glancing at his sister. "Rhysem, they're ready for us."
Closing his eyes briefly, the king heaved a heavy sigh and got to his feet, drawing Michaela with him.
"I don't want to go," he whispered.
"You must, my love," she replied, lifting her face to his. "Go with my love and my prayers."
With only her brother as witness, Rhys Michael felt no need to forgo a proper kiss of leave-taking. Pressing his lips to hers, he let himself drown for a few seconds in the bliss of their joining, more than usually aware that any parting might be their last, if that proved most expedient for the men who held their fate. When, at length, he finally raised his head from hers, his body ached from wanting her. He held her close a moment more, feeling her heart pounding beneath his, then resolutely kissed first the tip of her nose, then her forehead.
"Right, then. I'm off." His voice was a little hoarse. "We'll dine privately, I think. Cathan can join us for supper, because I know you'll want to say good-bye, but he goes to bed early." He grinned. "Make sure you get that nap. I should be back in a few hours."
Bravely blinking back her tears, Michaela followed him into the solar and watched him continue on into his own apartments with Cathan, ruffling one hand through his hair with a familiar gesture that made her throat constrict with the loving of him. She caught a sob as she turned away from the closing door, determined not to let her ladies see her distress.
Over in the window bay, her ladies had risen as the king passed through the room, but they settled back to their needlework at a gesture from the queen. As one of them held a hank of silk to the light, drawing out another long strand, the queen's young maid emerged from among them. After casting a questioning look at her mistress, she picked up an ivory-backed brush and came back to the sunlit stool where the queen had been sitting, testing a damp strand of hair as the queen sat down again.
"It's very nearly dry, my lady," she said. "Shall I brush it a little?"
"Yes, thank you, Liesel," the queen replied. And as the girl began to brush, her mistress closed her eyes and gave a contented sigh.
"That feels wonderful," she murmured after a few seconds, eyes still closed. "I could sit here and let you do that all afternoon."
A faint smile tugged at the rosy lips of the girl addressed as Liesel. Pert and pretty, she was a little younger than the queen and shorter by a head, with hair a slightly paler shade of gold braided and pinned close under the white kerchief that bound it. The pale oatmeal color of her close-sleeved gown was not flattering to most women—which was precisely the intention of the great lords, in choosing it for the castle's female servants—but Liesel's high color made it a perfect foil for beauty yet to ripen fully. Her eyes went golden in the sunlight, lit against the pale raiment—eyes that shone with genuine affection for the woman whose hair she continued to brush.
"My lady has beautiful hair," she said quietly. "Caring for it gives me pleasure as well."
"Does it?" Michaela smiled dreamily but did not open her eyes. "Aye, it must be something like stroking a cat. It pleasures the cat, but the stroking is also pleasing to the one who does it."
"'Tis like heavy silk that catches the shimmer of the sunlight, my lady," Liesel replied. "Small wonder that the king prefers it unbound."
"Aye, he does."
Michaela's smile evaporated as she opened her eyes to glance sidelong at her maid, a haunted look flashing briefly in her gaze.
"Liesel, you must help me do something special with it tonight," she murmured. "The king dines with me, and tomorrow he rides for Eastmarch. God alone knows if I shall see him again in this life."
Liesel had stopped brushing and stared at her mistress with pity in her golden eyes.
"Oh, my lady," she breathed.
Reaching back to pat the girl's hand, Michaela conjured up a brave smile, suddenly very weary.
"Now, don't _you_ get weepy, or you'll make me cry as well," she whispered. "He must not know how much I fear for him." She looked about to say more, but then she sighed heavily and felt at her hair again. "I think I'm dry enough now. I really do need a nap."
"Yes, my lady," Liesel murmured, eyes downcast.
Covering a yawn with one graceful hand, Miehaela bestirred herself to glance over at the women in the window bay as she rose.
"Dear Lady Estellan, why don't you and Lirin and Adelicia enjoy the gardens for an hour or two? I'm going to have a nap, so I shan't need you for a while. Liesel will help me undress."
She did not linger to see that they went. She did not much care for them anyway, but she had to maintain a facade of geniality. As she made her way back into the bedchamber and watched Liesel turn back the coverlet on the high, canopied bed, with its hangings of crimson damask and gold-shot yellow silk, another heavy yawn claimed her.
"I don't know why I get so sleepy carrying this baby," she murmured, as the maid helped her shed the blue over-robe. "Owain didn't make me this tired."
"Perhaps this time my lady is more preoccupied," the maid replied, as her mistress climbed up onto the bed. "But lay you down and rest awhile, your Grace. Sleep is a remedy for many ills."
Yawning again, Michaela did as she was bade, her eyes closing even as she lay down in her undergown. A deep sigh soon told of her shift into sleep, and the maid, after laying the blue over-robe across the back of a chair, came treading softly back to the bed to lean close to her sleeping mistress.
"Sleep deeper now," she whispered, as she laid one hand lightly across the royal forehead.
Her own eyes closed briefly, and after a moment a faint gasp escaped her lips. She was shaking her head as she gazed at her mistress once more, concern in her golden gaze.
"God give you gentle rest now, sweet queen," she whispered, as she withdrew her hand. "Sleep well and wake refreshed. You gave me leave to go and fetch a book of poetry from the library. If you should wake before I return, you also bade me fetch fresh flowers for your hair tonight."
The ladies in the solar had gone when Liesel came quietly out of the royal bedchamber, though another maid called Elspeth lay napping in the sunshine of the deserted bay, not stirring as Liesel passed through. The usual guards were at their posts in the corridor outside.
"Merry greetings, Mistress Liesel," their captain said, sauntering over to smile down at her.
She had to tip her head back to look up at him, for she came only to his shoulder, but she had the measure of the man and knew this one could be manipulated.
"God give you grace, Captain," she said boldly. "My lady is sleeping. Pray you, see she is not disturbed."
He stepped aside with a courteous salute and let her pass without a word. He had been one of the more brutish of the regular guards when first she came to royal service a few months earlier, but now he was as tame as a fireside tabby in the presence of this bold-eyed slip of a girl.
For the name of the queen's favorite maid was not Liesel at all, nor was she only a maid. Just now, this golden-eyed daughter of the Healer Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie was also the sole interface between the royal couple and certain Deryni working behind the scenes to extricate them from their indenture to the lords of state.
Not that either Rhys Michael or his queen were yet aware of "Liesel" 's true identity or her mission—though she knew, as she headed briskly down the corridor toward a turnpike stair, that this would have to change, and soon.
The eventual plan had been to gain access to the king and awaken his Haldane powers—a task for which Rhysel Thuryn was one of the pivotal players—then stage a sudden coup such as put the king's father on the throne nearly a quarter century before, spearheaded by Deryni-backed pro-Haldane forces who even now were beginning to gather in remote parts of Gwynedd. The target date had been some five or six months hence, when the queen's new pregnancy would have progressed to the point that safe delivery of a second heir was likely—as was the increased danger that the king would be eliminated by his captors, once his dynastic duty had been done. That danger was dire enough to hazard making their move despite its attendant perils—for the king could perish in any attempted coup—but his impending departure for Eastmarch on the morrow suddenly placed him in far more immediate danger, if he must face Torenthi magic without a way to counter it.
Fighting down a wave of sick fear, Rhysel gained the welcome dimness of the turnpike stair and started down, left hand trailing along the newel post for balance. Not for the first time, she found herself regretting the circumstances that had kept her mentors from moving in the king's behalf long ago.
But it simply had not been possible to establish contact with the new king during those precarious days and months immediately following the death of King Javan. Not only was Rhys Michael closely guarded, but no one was sure what reception a Deryni contact might receive, for no one knew how much Javan had confided to his brother before riding out on his final journey north.
Furthermore, the reshuffling of power that had put Rhys Michael on his brother's throne had also cost his would-be supporters dearly. Though several well-placed Deryni had established a precarious foothold in Javan's court, keeping their true identities secret and slowly beginning to erode the great lords' influence, Javan's fall had brought their deaths as well. It was believed that the great lords had not suspected the Deryni presence; and, indeed, they must never learn of it, else Rhys Michael himself must fall under closer scrutiny—if that were possible.
It also had become clear, once those critical first months were past, that the new king probably was relatively safe where he was, for the time being—at least until he produced an heir or two, and so long as he did not take too long about it. Even the great lords did not desire the extinction of the Haldane line. They wanted another long regency, heralding a succession of grateful and biddable monarchs who would support the dispersal of royal power among the great lords who had engineered their very existence.
But here, theory and expediency might well diverge. Preserving the legitimate succession was most desirable; but if Rhys Michael had declined to cooperate, the great lords had decided very early that it was sufficient for their purposes merely to keep the king alive until some willing surrogate ensured that the queen did, indeed, bear offspring that would be taken for Haldane. What the great lords most desired was a puppet Haldane king; but a puppet bastard carrying the Haldane name would suit them well enough, if it came to that.
Rhysel guessed that the king would have come to understand this all too well, as the months spun on into years. From clandestine probes of Queen Michaela, she knew that the royal couple had delayed conceiving an heir as long as they dared, but the birth of a son in the second year of the king's reign had made Rhys Michael's continued survival that much more precarious. He now was no longer the only Haldane. The birth of a second heir, especially another prince, might well push the great lords to a second regicide, once they were certain the second child thrived; for a regency for a four-year-old heir, with a spare in the royal nursery, would require far less effort than maintaining the illusion that a grown king actually ruled his kingdom. Whenever it suited the great lords, whether sparked by actual transgression or mere pique, Rhysel had no doubt that the king would meet a convenient "accident," as many had done before him.
Thus had it become urgent that the king be brought to his full Haldane powers before the birth of his next child—and now it became essential that he be awakened before he left for Eastmarch, lest he perish at the hands of a Deryni enemy before he had a chance to clean his own house. The prospect would have been daunting enough with time for preparation, months from now, as they had planned. But if they were even to try, on such short notice, the king must be willing to cooperate without reservation, to give himself totally into the guidance of his Deryni allies with little time for wariness or explanations, for there _was_ no time except for trust and the doing of what must be done.
From what Rhysel had learned of the king by her own meager observations, securing that trust would be no easy thing. He had little reason to trust anyone besides his wife and her brother, and certainly not the Deryni who seemed to have abandoned him these past years. What Rhysel thought might swing the balance was a factor she did not believe even her mentors had considered. Both Queen Michaela and her brother possessed Deryni blood of their own; it was diluted and had been rendered impotent in early childhood, but what potential they once had possessed could be restored— _if_ the blocking process could be reversed.
So far as Rhysel knew, only one person now alive could do that—her own brother Tieg, not yet fourteen. She did not want to think about the danger of bringing him here to Rhemuth—for Michaela and Cathan certainly could not go to him—but she and Tieg had already discussed the possibility. She found herself wondering whether Tieg's unique powers could also catalyze a Haldane's powers. She knew from reading Michaela that the king had shields and perhaps could Truth-Read—which had kept Rhysel herself from probing more directly—but he would need far greater skills than those to keep him safe from a trained Festillic adversary.
Pale skirts gathered close about her ankles, Rhysel glanced left and right as she emerged from the spiral stair that led down to the library floor. The corridor was deserted, as she had hoped it would be at this time of day, and her slippered feet made no sound as she moved quickly along the expanse of diagonally set black and white tiles. Her true destination was a disused chamber just beyond the library, but to be seen entering it might arouse unwelcome curiosity. So she would go into the library first, fulfilling the errand she had set herself from the queen and also disarming whatever potential betrayal might be lurking there.
The precaution proved to be well taken, for she sensed a presence in the room even before her hand touched the door latch. Forewarned, she opened it boldly and entered. Over at the far left end of the room, glaringly lit by a wash of sunlight from one of the bay windows, a black-clad back was hunched anonymously over one of the writing desks, intent on his scribing. He glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the door, then scrambled awkwardly to his feet, the sunlight casting rusty highlights on a familiar black scholar's robe, worn and much-patched.
Thank God. She had been expecting one of the sour _Custodes_ scribes. She could deal with this young man.
"Why, Master Donal. God give you grace," she said lightly, as she closed the library door behind her. "Hard at work, I see."
He bobbed his head and blushed to the roots of his short-cropped dark hair. The gangly lay scholar adored her and usually became tongue-tied in her presence—a reaction that Rhysel did not try too hard to discourage, since a smitten suitor was far more malleable than a rejected one. Simple courtesy cost nothing, and she did not _dis_ like Donal, for all that he seemed to work willingly for those who were her enemies.
"M-mistress Liesel," Donal stammered. "Your unexpected p-presence fulfills the promised fairness of a glorious day."
She favored him with an inclination of her head and an appreciative smile that made him blush even more, then turned her attention to a casual inspection of the room, her gaze brushing lovingly over the manuscripts and bound volumes scattered across another library table. There were more stored in the ceiling-high range of shelves and pigeonholes that occupied the right-hand wall of the room, and the familiar scent of leather and ink was like a heady perfume.
Masking her pleasure, she moved a little closer to the table stacked with books and ran a finger along a spine stamped with gold. Donal knew she could read and write, but he had no notion that her passion for learning probably surpassed his own—one of the many legacies of her beloved parents. That she had put it aside in a greater cause, he probably would never know. All her recent years had been spent trying to absorb the practical knowledge and training to enable her to function as she did now.
"Pretty words, Master Donal," she said softly, a smile still playing at her lips as she glanced up at him. "But if you think to deter me from my errand with compliments, I must warn you that I will not be swayed. I come at the queen's behest. My lady bids me bring her the book of Lady Kyla's poetry, whose binding was to be repaired. Is it ready?"
Ducking his head in happy affirmation, Donal scurried over to the wide library table and sorted quickly through several stacks, finally selecting a vermilion-bound volume from among the rich jewel-tones of leather bindings.
"Aye, here it is." He burnished the book's spine against a sleeve, then held it out for her inspection as she came nearer. "Brother Lorenzo brought it back only yesterday."
As she took the book from him, it was no difficult thing to brush his hand with hers. The instant of contact reinstated controls used several times before, sufficient to forestall any possible interference.
"Thank you, Donal," she whispered. "The queen will be pleased. Now go back to work and have a lovely dream." She briefly closed her hand around his slack one, still poised from having given over the book. "Remember only that I came to fetch this. Go now."
He turned without a word and went back to his desk, settling on his stool to gaze dreamily out the window, his chin propped on one hand, a grey-mottled quill slack in his other. As she opened the library door to slip back out, he was already sinking into the pleasant memory of an old daydream—a gentle fantasy just wishful enough to ensure that the fastidious Donal would never dream of mentioning it to anyone, even a prying _Custodes_ confessor. Pleasant enough for Donal, harmless enough for both of them, and far less intrusive than other measures she might have employed to divert his notice of whatever he might hear from the room next door.
The corridor outside was still deserted as she closed the door quietly behind her. She cast with her powers in both directions, but no one was about. Hugging close the volume of poetry that was her ostensible reason for being in this part of the castle at all, she moved silently to the next door to the left. She already knew the room beyond was unoccupied, but as she gently turned the latch and slipped inside, she wondered what she would do if someone were assigned permanent quarters here. The location would be ideal for some avid scholar.
As she always did, she breathed a faint sigh when she had eased the door closed behind her, her visual inspection confirming that the small, lime-washed chamber remained disused. A sheen of dust blurred the surfaces of the table and chairs set before the cold hearth in one corner, and the mattress on the simple bed remained folded up against the head, hard against the wall to the right of the door. Despite the austerity of the room thus stripped, she could almost imagine the man who briefly had occupied this room and guarded what it contained, even though she had never met him.
His name had been Etienne de Courcy, and only a handful of men and women knew, or would ever know, how he had aided the Haldane cause. Because he had been loyal to King Javan, the great lords had executed him following the coup that put Rhys Michael on the throne, but they had never guessed that he was Deryni; never guessed that it was he who had spirited away the Deryni wife and daughter of a slain Healer during those first hours of confusion.
And though he might have stayed with them in safety, it had been Etienne's own choice to return, his powers and memories blocked, to let himself be captured, tortured, and eventually killed rather than risk that the great lords might discover how Deryni had been inserted into the midst of Javan's court. For that, and to keep this avenue open, Etienne de Courcy had given his life. Guiscard, his elder son, had also died in the Haldane cause, fighting at the side of King Javan.
Breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the lives of both de Courcys, two more martyrs for the survival of her race, Rhysel moved quietly into the center of the room, trying to disturb the dust as little as possible. Stepping onto the only square flagstone for a full arm's length all around, she braced her feet and bowed her head over the book clasped against her breast. As she let fall her shields, she felt the powerful tingle of a Transfer Portal under her feet, and she drew on the Portal's power as she warped the energies.
CHAPTER FOUR
Miss not the discourse of the elders: for they also learned of their fathers, and of them thou shalt learn understanding, and to give answer as need requireth.
—Ecclesiasticus 8:9
Many miles north and east, a fair-haired youth assigned to keep watch beside another Portal leaned back in his chair and chewed thoughtfully at the feathered end of his quill. As he glanced casually in the direction of the Portal, briefly probing, the hazel eyes went a little unfocused. Though baptized Camber Allin MacLean, he had been known as Camlin since childhood, to distinguish him from the illustrious and now sainted MacRorie kinsman in whose honor he had been named. At twenty-two, exactly the age of the king, he somewhat resembled Camber's son Joram, in whose exile household he now resided—except for the tough white scars scribing both wrists, front and back.
He could remember a time before the scars, half a lifetime ago. Memory of the scarring itself was mercifully blurred, though he knew, from later conversations with those who found him, that he had been nailed to the timber portcullis of his father's burning castle. Within the range of atrocities committed that day at Trurill, crucifixion had been one of the milder examples; at least Camlin had survived.
Most at Trurill had not, including his father. Appallingly tortured and maimed by his captors, the dying Lord Adrian MacLean had even been compelled to watch while they impaled the boy they had mistaken for his son and heir—young Aidan Thuryn, cousin and fosterling of his house, beloved elder brother of the same Rhysel whose arrival was expected later today.
Dazed with shock and disbelief, the eleven-year-old Camlin had been witness to all of it, shivering with terror in a pitifully inadequate hiding place beneath the kitchen stairs. The raiders, when they finally found him, had assumed him to be a mere squire, and had settled for stripping and scourging him before dragging him out to the castle gate to crucify him, just before they set fire to the castle and rode away. A snowstorm had saved him from the fire; and the slain Aidan's mother and younger brother had arrived in time to save Camlin his life and at least the limited use of his hands.
He grimaced as he laid down his pen and massaged gently at the knotted scars on his right wrist, gazing unseeing at the empty Portal square as he fondly remembered "Aunt" Evaine and little Tieg. He still wondered how they had done it, for a Healer's gifts normally did not begin to manifest until age ten or so. Tieg had been only three at the time and totally untrained; and his mother, though a powerful Deryni, had been no Healer at all. How had _she_ managed to harness and channel her young son's healing potential and effect even a clumsy healing of injuries that should have left Camlin crippled, if he survived them at all?
Of course, she had been Saint Camber's daughter. And perhaps her years of working with her Healer husband, the unsurpassed Rhys Thuryn, had given her some special insight; though so far as Camlin knew, no other Deryni had ever duplicated her feat—or Tieg's.
He couldn't even bring himself to resent that the result had, not been perfect; it should not have been possible at all. Because of the scarring, he would never again possess sufficient wrist strength to wield the sword that should have been his birthright; but since his father's murderers believed him dead as well, and one of the great lords now possessed the lands that should have passed to Camlin, that question was moot at best.
What he _could_ still wield with fair panache was a pen—so long as he did not wax too wordy. Even here, in the underground sameness of the sanctuary, changes of weather outside made his wrists ache, and writing for too long almost always had its price. Some days, even the effort of lifting a cup to his lips produced such excruciating pain that he must seek a Healer's easing.
Such physical limitations encouraged an economy of words that, of necessity, must cut to the heart of any question. His growing proficiency in this regard had impressed even the most demanding of his very exacting teachers here in the haven. In a rare flash of old rivalries among the Deryni religious orders, the Gabrilite-trained Dom Rickart and Dom Queron avowed that Camlin was acquiring an almost Michaeline militancy in his sharpness of reasoning; Joram and Bishop Niallan, who had been Michaelines, professed that this was no bad thing. Whatever the middle ground might be, Camlin was building a useful niche for himself, here in the close-knit environment of the sanctuary, at last able to begin giving back something to those who had given him so much.
Smiling wistfully, he picked up his pen again and returned to his work. For something to do while he took his turn at monitoring the Portal, he had been annotating Bishop Niallan's history of the Haldanes since the Restoration, begun shortly after the death of King Alroy.
The piece in progress dated from just after King Javan's death—Tieg Thuryn's transcription of the eyewitness memories he had read from Etienne de Courcy before blurring other memories and blocking Etienne's powers. It was one of the few inside accounts they had of the events surrounding the great lords' seizure of power and the person of the then-Prince Rhys Michael Haldane, and it still chilled Camlin to read it: the cold-blooded treason, masterminded by trusted ministers and so-called men of God, that had seen the prince's aide brutally murdered before his eyes, another loyal lord slain while trying to escape, and a third so gravely wounded that he later would die of his wounds, though it took him several pain-racked months.
Etienne himself would never know that, of course. Not for the first time, Camlin found himself wondering what kind of loyalty would make a man like Etienne choose to go back to certain capture, probable torture, and almost inevitable death. Camlin was sworn to the Haldane cause, and to a prince he had never met, but he doubted he would have had the courage to do what Etienne had done...
Shaking his head, Camlin made a note to inquire further on a reference to a particular _Custodes_ knight, then skipped over Etienne's rationale for returning. An indecipherable word jumped out at him, and he bent closer to puzzle it out. Tieg's handwriting was clear enough, but his spelling sometimes bordered on the whimsical. Camlin put it down to laziness; Tieg maintained that a Healer had better things to do with his time than worry about exact spellings, so long as his meaning was clear. Camlin countered that proper spelling helped convey proper meaning, and so the debate continued. It was an ongoing but good-natured dispute that had occupied the pair of them increasingly as Tieg grew into young manhood. Camlin had just set his pen to another correction when the door to the outer corridor eased open.
"'Lo, Camlin," came a low-voiced greeting, as Tieg himself slipped inside. "Uncle Joram said I should relieve you, if you're ready for a break."
Camlin smiled and laid his pen aside as he turned around. Tieg's voice had broken only a few months ago, and though the change had not been unexpected, Camlin still found himself listening for a familiar boyish treble, not this deep-voiced young man.
Tieg seemed to grow visibly from week to week. Yet a few months short of his fourteenth birthday, he already stood half a head taller than Camlin, who was not short, and his hands looked to belong to a far larger individual. A spattering of freckles across his nose still reinforced a first impression of boyish innocence, but the hazel eyes were wise far beyond his years.
His attire likewise proclaimed his emerging adult standing. Though Healers usually did not qualify until about the age of eighteen, Tieg had already earned the right to wear full Healer's green—at least here in sanctuary. Recently, in imitation of Dom Queron and Dom Rickart, he had also begun pulling back his wavy reddish hair in a four-stranded Gabrilite braid—a capital offense outside these walls, if the wearer was Deryni, and even humans sporting such a braid risked having their heads shaved. The law also allowed for human transgressors to be flogged to unconsciousness, if circumstances suggested that the offense had been meant to show support for Deryni. Fortunately Tieg rarely ventured outside the sanctuary, and never in green or wearing a braid.
"Well, you're looking very official today," Camlin said, restraining a grin. "Did Joram really send you, or did you just get bored?"
Tieg chuckled and shook his head, looking down sheepishly. "He didn't exactly _send_ me—but I guess I did get bored. They're busy talking about levies and supply lines and the strategic weaknesses of Rhemuth Castle. I don't mind relieving you, though."
"Well, it's very kind of you to offer, but I think I'd just as soon stay a while longer and finish what I'm doing. I'm not that tired."
"No, but your hands are," Tieg replied. Looking faintly smug, he came over to catch up Camlin's two wrists in his big Healer's hands. "When are you going to stop trying to mask your pain, when you know I can do something about it?"
Camlin caught his breath as Tieg probed gently at the scarring on one of his wrists, then exhaled softly and closed his eyes, almost going boneless as blessed healing poured into swollen tissues and dissolved away his discomfort. He had never felt a Healer's touch like Tieg's, and he wondered whether it had anything to do with his blocking talent.
"I don't think so," Tieg said aloud, answering the unasked question. "Dom Rickart told me one time that, back when he first started his training, one of the oldest brothers at Saint Neot's had something of the same feel, but Dom Queron says he detects a little of my father's flavor."
He shrugged as he shifted his attention to the other wrist. "I haven't had contact with that many other Healers, so I really couldn't say. And unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't remember very much about my father."
Only half listening, Camlin let the bliss of Tieg's healing wash all around him as the second wrist was eased. He wondered how Tieg did it. He could only compare it to the feeling he sometimes got when meditating, when he thought he had made a better than usual connection with the rhythm of the Spheres. Bishop Niallan had suggested that perhaps Camlin was tapping into the energies that sometimes called one to a life of contemplation and prayer. Camlin was not certain he had such a calling, but many aspects of such a life were definitely appealing—and suited to his physical limitations.
"I remember your father fairly well," he said, reluctantly dragging his focus back to the here and now. "Of course, I was only eleven when he died." He sat back in his chair and let his healed hands rest easily in his lap. "I really liked Lord Rhys; everyone did. I wish I'd had the chance to know him as a man."
"So do I," Tieg said softly.
The very tone of his words conveyed several shades of meaning, but before their conversation could digress into useless conjecture on what might have been, a faintly discordant surge in the local energies rippled at the edges of consciousness.
"Rhysel's coming," Tieg said, instantly refocused as he turned away to move closer to the Portal.
Catching a little of Tieg's sudden tension, Camlin also got to his feet. The permanent Wards built into the sanctuary Portal were supposed to prevent unauthorized access, but solo Portal duty always put him a little on edge, on the chance that magical protections must be augmented with physical force. It was not likely—the Portal's defenses probably would hold against any psychic trickery most intruders might try, at least until help could be summoned—but Camlin's Deryni abilities were not particularly strong, never mind that his hands would be all but useless in any physical altercation. Still, that first instant of temporary disorientation upon arrival would render any newcomer vulnerable as well.
She was there even as he thought it, not looking vulnerable at all, the sheer psychic impact of her sudden presence making Camlin recoil a step even as he drew a startled breath. For all that both he and Tieg towered over her, she was cool and self-possessed, golden eyes scanning and assessing over the book she clasped to her breast. Even in the drab, colorless gown worn by the queen's maids, with her spun-gold hair mostly covered by a white kerchief, Camlin thought her quite one of the loveliest creatures he had ever seen—though here, in the cloistered seclusion of the sanctuary, he had to admit that his experience was somewhat limited.
"What's happened?" Tieg demanded, as her look of concentration shifted to a worried smile. "You weren't expected for hours. Does this mean there's news?"
Sighing, she stepped from the Portal niche to deposit her book on the table where Camlin had been working.
"More like intimations of disaster, I'm afraid. Hello, Camlin. I don't know whether we can move fast enough or not Messengers from Eastmarch arrived at Court this morning with news that Torenthi forces have taken Culliecairn, up by the Eastmarch-Tolan border. Then a Torenthi herald arrived. It seems that Miklos of Torenth intends Culliecairn as a christening present for Marek of Festil's new son. The king leaves for Eastmarch in the morning. This could be Marek's bid for the throne."
Camlin could only stare at her, openmouthed. Tieg had gone a little pale beneath his freckles, obviously fathoming far better than his elder cousin what the news meant in more immediate terms.
"It's too soon," Tieg muttered. "Dear God, we'd better tell Uncle Joram. He's with Ansel and Jesse. They've only just begun compiling troop commitments for six months from now."
"Well, I think it's going to take more than that and far sooner than six months from now," Rhysel replied. "Are they in the staff room? I need to get back as soon as possible, but if we're to salvage anything from this, we'll need to move quickly."
"I'll take you," Tieg agreed. "Camlin, I'll have to back out on that offer to relieve you."
Rhysel gave her brother the gist of her plan en route, in quick rapport that spared nothing of the dangers inherent in what she proposed. She and Tieg had always been close, and they had discussed a similar scenario before, unbeknownst to their elders.
A few minutes later, she had conveyed just her news to her uncle and the other four men gathered with him around a table strewn with maps and papers. She had not expected Niallan and Queron, but she knew them all very well, and the arguments they were likely to raise—and that any argument could come to only one conclusion, once she told them what she proposed. But she still had to convince them.
Her Uncle Joram would have the final say, of course, even though Bishop Niallan was his senior in years and ecclesiastical rank. Joram was the only one of them to have been there from the beginning, back when his father, the sainted Camber, had orchestrated the Haldane Restoration. Only Joram had firsthand knowledge of how it had been done, and only Joram could shoulder that ultimate responsibility for deciding what must follow.
He had paid a price for the weight of such authority. The silver-gilt hair grew a little more tarnished with each passing year, even receding a little at the temples of late, cool silver now against the plain black cassock that was his usual working attire instead of the Michaeline blue he once had worn. The planes of the handsome face, once merely lean, had been honed to something more akin to ascetic.
But the Michaeline knight remained. Though the distinctive blue cassock of his former order had been abandoned some years ago, save for ceremonial occasions, he had taken to wearing the white sash of his knighthood at all times, in unspoken declaration of his self-assumed role as inheritor of the trust his order had borne before their suppression. Had the Order still existed in Gwynedd, he might have been their vicar-general by now. At forty-three, though no longer battle-fit because of the forced exile of the last decade, he was only now approaching his intellectual prime.
Nor were his companions any less formidable. Close by Joram's right hand sat Niallan Trey, the exiled former Bishop of Dhassa. Before his elevation to the episcopate, Niallan had been a Michaeline like Joram. Even now, though in his early sixties, something of the former warrior remained in the way he carried himself, in the cant of the proud grey head, in the military precision of the close-clipped grey beard. He, too, wore the white sash of Michaeline knighthood.
Dom Queron was one of their two resident Healers besides Tieg, steel-slender and intense, his wiry hair gone nearly white and once again grown long enough to display the four-stranded braid of his original religious order, though he had been a Servant of Saint Camber and a disciple of the preacher Revan since. A priest and Healer he remained, and always at heart a Gabrilite, though he wore the grey robe of the Camberians under a green Healer's mantle rather than the white of the Gabrilites; either would have meant his death outside these walls.
Then there were Ansel and Jesse, only in their mid-twenties, Ansel looking much as his famous uncle must have looked at that age, light-eyed like Joram, but fairer than Joram had ever been. He wore his hair close-cropped to make it less memorable, for the sun had bleached it almost to white. His riding leathers were well cut, but plain and patched in several places, molded to his lean frame by years of wear in all kinds of weather. His homespun shirt could have done with a wash.
Jesse, shorter and stockier than Ansel, was dressed much the same, with brassy highlights streaking the brown hair queued back with a rawhide thong. Both men had unbuckled their swords and laid them across one end of the trestle table—serviceable-enough weapons by mere appearance, unremarkable by their mountings and well-worn scabbards, but bladed with the finest R'Kassan steel. The pair had spent most of the last six years looking like what they were not, ferreting out the information and contacts that would eventually enable them to assist a Haldane coup in Rhemuth.
When Rhysel had finished her initial report, Ansel scowled and moved around to the far end of the table to consult one of the lists he had brought to Joram, glancing at his uncle in speculation. Jesse was silently turning a map marker in suntanned, callused fingers, emotion stirring golden flecks in the depths of his brown eyes.
"I wonder why they're letting the king go to Eastmarch," Jesse said quietly. "They've never even let him go on a progress before, much less a military campaign. It's too dangerous—aside from the question of his physical safety. What if he tried to take the bit in his teeth and break free, in front of witnesses?"
"Maybe they don't mean for him to come back," Ansel retorted. "With another heir in the offing, maybe they'd just as soon he died in glorious combat with the enemy, the way his brother did. They might even find a way to blame it on us again."
"It doesn't matter _why_ they're letting him go, don't you see?" Rhysel said, leaning both hands on the table in front of where she stood. "The point is, he's going—and he's going to be in grave danger. Now, what are we going to do about it?"
"A bit more warning would have been useful," Niallan said quietly, bestirring himself to turn one of the maps for a better look at the area of Eastmarch. "But whatever the great lords' long-term plans may be, we'd better have a presence there secretly, at least. If we're lucky, maybe we can help counter dirty tricks, if Marek decides to try any arcane unpleasantness."
Ansel swept aside a stack of papers and flounced into his chair. "A lot of good that's going to do," he muttered. "Uncle Joram, are you going to say something?"
Sighing, Joram tossed aside the remains of the quill pen he had been shredding while the others argued, avoiding Queron's gaze.
"Our original scenario is impossible," he said. "It would mean moving our timetable forward a full six months. It can't be done."
"Not all of it—no," Rhysel said.
To the man, other than Tieg, those present turned to stare at her aghast.
"I hope you aren't suggesting what I think you're suggesting," Queron murmured.
Rhysel pursed her lips, bracing for their objections. "There's only one option open to us, if we hope to have a king six months from now," she said quietly. "We must try to bring the king's powers through. Tonight."
Joram closed his eyes, drawing a slow, deep breath. Queron was shaking his head. Ansel and Jesse glanced at one another uneasily. Tieg sat forward eagerly in his chair on Joram's other side. Niallan watched and said nothing, only his nervous turning of his bishop's ring betraying his tension.
"It's out of the question," Joram finally said, not looking at her.
"No, that _is_ the question. Hear me out. We know that he can Truth-Read; we also know he has shields. That's as much as Javan had, when you brought him to power. He's got to have access to his powers before he heads off for a war in which his enemy might use magic against him. Whether it's Marek himself or only Miklos he has to face, neither of them will stop at anything to kill him, if they get the chance. Aside from the fact that we don't want it known that he has Deryni backing, he may need more protection than Ansel and Jesse are able to provide."
"The need is not at issue!" Joram replied. "The means is another matter entirely. Just whom did you have in mind to accomplish what you're asking?"
"You. Me. Tieg. Michaela."
" _Michaela?_ " Joram said.
"What _about_ Michaela?" Ansel asked, almost simultaneously.
"Oh, Ansel, she's your half sister; you needn't sound so shocked," Rhysel replied. "We've all tended to forget, because she's been blocked, but she _is_ Deryni. Not a very powerful one, even if she weren't blocked, and without any training—but that could be remedied."
"By Tieg," Ansel said disbelievingly. "You'd have him unblock her, and she's suddenly the equivalent of a fully trained, experienced Deryni."
"Of course not. But the king trusts her more than any other living person. She might be able to help us catalyze him."
"I can't even consider such a notion," Joram said, not looking at Tieg, whose expression had a hopeful look. "We daren't risk Tieg on something so uncertain."
"You'll need a Healer," Rhysel countered.
"Queron. Rickart," Joram replied.
"But they can't unblock Michaela."
"But they _are_ trained Deryni and experienced ritualists," Joram pointed out. "Besides, what makes you think Michaela could be useful, if she did have her powers?"
"I know that she'd do anything to help her husband," Rhysel said simply. "Incidentally, she's carrying another boy; Tieg showed me what to look for, and I finally was able to read it."
Queron groaned, and Joram merely shook his head.
"That gives the great lords their 'heir and a spare,'" Ansel murmured, looking stricken.
"True enough," Jesse agreed, "but they don't know that yet—and won't, until the child is born. A lot could happen between now and then."
Niallan turned him a droll look. "I don't think we can count on another miscarriage to save us this time, Jesse."
"It won't matter much anyway, if Marek launches magic at the king and he has no protection," Ansel said.
"Which is why he must have power," Rhysel replied. "Surely you see that. Joram, I haven't got time to argue with you. We've got to try. It's his only hope."
Joram only closed his eyes for a long moment, turning his head aside to bury his face in one pale hand briefly.
"I confess to being very nearly daunted," he said quietly, as he raised his head and forced himself to draw a deep breath. "All our planning has been geared to a schedule six months away—first an attempt to bring the king's power through, and then the follow-up with loyal troops shifted into the castle by Portal, the way we did for Cinhil. There's no way we can move our men that fast even if the first could be done. I'd be throwing away lives for nothing."
"Then, we won't worry about that part until _after_ Eastmarch is resolved," Rhysel replied. "I agree that there's no way we can move the full operation forward so quickly. But meanwhile, we do what we can to bring the king's power through _tonight_. If it isn't tonight, it may not happen at all. And if it doesn't and Marek of Festil brings magic to the meeting in Eastmarch, we may lose another Haldane. I thought that's what all our sacrifices have been for—to keep the rightful Haldane kings on the throne of Gwynedd and give them every possible chance to reign independent of great lords or regents. If Rhys Michael is killed, it's _ten years_ before his son is of age."
"I _have_ dealt with a regency before, you know!" Joram snapped. "I do have some idea what would be involved."
"Then give the king the best possible chance to survive this," she replied. "We can't let him ride off to Eastmarch without at least _trying_ to bring through his powers. We've discussed the theory often enough, and you've personally helped bring other Haldane kings to power."
"With _preparation_ ," Joram agreed. "With an experienced team who knew precisely what they were doing. And it didn't work for Alroy."
"Only because you never got a chance to finish what Cinhil started," Rhysel retorted. "It worked for Cinhil, and it worked for Javan. As for an experienced team—well, none of you were experienced when Cinhil came to power. You learned as you went along. This time, at least _you_ have experience."
Joram sighed heavily and looked away from her, shaking his head, clearly preparing another objection, but she set a hand on his wrist and drew his gaze back.
"Joram, we can't hope to succeed without you," she said. "Tieg and I are as ready as we _can_ be, under the circumstances, but we need you to direct us. And Michaela can be drafted to help, once Tieg reinstates her powers—and Cathan, too."
Ansel snorted, a short bark of mirthless laughter. "Rhysel, they were only children when they lost what scant powers they had; it was I who had it done, to protect them. And before that, they'd had no training. My dear mother forbade it."
"I know that," Rhysel replied. "But I've taken the liberty of laying some groundwork, at least with the queen. I've blocked all memory of what I've done, but she has the full background of what she is and was, and what she must let be done to help her husband survive. I can release that in an instant. Cathan is less certain, because I haven't had opportunity to probe him or work with him, but I know that he's utterly devoted to his sister and the king. There's absolutely no question of that. I'm sure he'd cooperate as best he's able."
"And what about the king?" Joram asked.
Rhysel glanced down at her hands, surprised to find them nervously pleating a section of her skirt.
"I haven't dared to try touching him yet, for obvious reasons. The shields are going to be his biggest obstacle—and ours. He'll be suspicious, as well he should be. That's why I think that Michaela will be the key to gaining his cooperation, especially with so little time to prepare and explain. I know there are excruciating risks, just to confront him with the possibility, but it can work, Joram. It _has_ to work."
"And if it doesn't?" he asked.
She drew a deep, fortifying breath and met his gaze unflinchingly.
"If it doesn't work," she said softly, "you and I and whoever else is involved probably will not survive to worry. We've waited for my generation to be ready for this day; perhaps it will be for the next generation to try again."
"If we do it right," Tieg said, speaking for the first time, "it won't be necessary for the next generation to try again. I know we can do it, Uncle Joram."
"Ah, the optimism of youth," Joram murmured. He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded.
"Very well. We're left with no choice. Queron, the rest of you, am I going to have your full support in this? We'll have a lot to do in the next few hours."
The two younger men nodded, wide-eyed, and Niallan sighed and whispered, "Aye," as Queron lifted a hand in reluctant agreement.
"All right, then. Rhysel, go back to the queen and make the basic preparations you outlined. You daren't tarry here any longer, or you'll be missed. I'll work out a format with Tieg and Queron in the meantime. Be alert for a contact late in the evening. And be very, very careful."
CHAPTER FIVE
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.
—I John 4:18
Rhysel returned to the royal apartments to find the queen in the solar, reading to young Prince Owain, while the boy's nurse visited with some of the queen's ladies in the window bay. Mother and son were cozily ensconced in a large wooden chair well cushioned by embroidered pillows, and both looked up as Rhysel came in. Grey-eyed Owain was the image of his Haldane father, with a shining cap of jet-black hair cut close around his face.
"Ah, there you are, Liesel," the queen said, closing her book. "What have you brought?"
The sweet fragrance of the garden accompanied Rhysel as she came to let the queen see into the flat basket over her arm.
"Fresh-cut blossoms to grace the Queen's Grace," Rhysel said, smiling, as she held a golden jonquil close to the queen's wheaten hair. "Your Highness asked if I could do something special with your hair for tonight. I thought I might pull the sides back into a loose braid down the back and weave in a cascade of flowers."
"Hmmm, the king would like that, I think," Michaela replied, selecting a pale yellow rose and inhaling deeply of its perfume. "Owain, do you think your papa would like some of these braided into Mummy's hair?"
The four-year-old sniffed critically at the bloom, then shook his head and pushed it away.
"Papa likes red ones best," he declared, reaching for a smaller, more delicate tea rose of vibrant crimson. "Put red ones in Mummy's hair, Liesel." He gave it an appreciative sniff and smiled wide. "Mmmm, smells nice."
Both Michaela and Rhysel grinned at that, and the queen gave an accommodating shrug as she took the flower from her son.
"Well, that would appear to settle the question," she said. "Apparently the men in my life prefer red roses to any other color. Perhaps it comes of being Haldanes." She allowed herself a resigned sigh. "Ah, well. I prefer pastels, but have Agatha choose something suitable to go with _red_ roses, would you? Come back when Owain's had his supper and gone to bed."
Later, while Rhysel dressed the queen's hair, she had ample time to set her instructions in place for later in the evening. It would hardly be the leisurely and romantic leave-taking that Michaela was anticipating, but Rhysel saw no remedy for that—not if they continued to hold any hope that the king might be brought to full access of his Haldane powers on such short notice. She wished there had been opportunity to prepare Cathan as well, but he and Fulk had been closeted with the king all afternoon, down in the council chamber. At least Fulk was dining with his parents this evening, since he, too, would be riding out with the king on the morrow.
She made a last adjustment to the queen's coiffure, teasing loose two wispy tendrils at the temples, then laid aside her comb and picked up a mirror to hold for Michaela's inspection. The queen had dressed with care, in a loose-fitting night shift of ivory silk with a rose damask over-robe. She had clasped it at the throat with the Haldane brooch, borrowed back from Rhys Michael when he returned from his meetings to bathe and change. The color complemented the claret-colored roses twined in her hair and gave her a rosy glow of her own.
"It's perfect," she said softly, smiling as she glanced at Rhysel above the mirror. "Thank you, Liesel. Now hand me those pearl drops for my ears, and I'll be ready."
A little later, having overseen arrangements for dining in the solar, Michaela welcomed husband and brother to the rare experience of a truly private meal. Ample candlelight made of their table an island of cozy reassurance, set apart from the uncertainties of the morrow. During a simple and leisurely meal that Cathan both served and shared, the three of them were able to discuss the day's implications with far more candor than was usually possible, none of them yet aware of the measures set in motion by the queen's maid.
"Oh, my dearest darlings, this is almost like being a real family," Michaela said softly, setting one hand on her husband's hand and the other on her brother's. "Do you know how I treasure nights like this? I can hardly remember the last time when just the three of us were able to sit down to a meal together, without Fulk or somebody else lurking about, hanging on our every word."
Cathan snorted softly, permitting himself a wan smile. "Fulk isn't _that_ bad. We could do far worse."
Sighing, Michaela squeezed his hand and managed a brave smile. "Aye, we could—and have done, in the past, haven't we? I wish him well on the campaign. The potential replacements are all far worse."
"Well, I'm still glad he had somewhere else to go tonight," Rhys Michael replied, idly picking up a wine bottle and rejecting it when he saw that it was empty. "He would have wanted to serve table, if he'd been here."
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Cathan leaned back in his chair and indulged in a heavy sigh, briefly affecting the jaded court drawl becoming common among his peers.
"The man can be _so_ tiresome. But it's mainly his father's fault, of course. You'd think the council would have given up by now. We're not about to discuss plans for an insurrection when Fulk is around, even if there were any hope of _staging_ an insurrection."
"And we're not about to plot an insurrection tonight, in any case," Rhys Michael agreed, turning his gaze on Michaela and quirking a wicked smile at her. "Actually, my dear, my intentions for this evening were of a more—personal nature."
As he lifted her hand to nibble on her fingertips, Michaela broke into delighted giggles of mock scandal.
"What, with my brother present, sir?"
"Well, you _did_ say it was a family evening," Cathan retorted, grinning roguishly as he brought her other hand to his lips.
Where this might have led, Michaela was never to know, for any further development was curtailed by a knock at the door. As she burst into giggles anew, Rhys Michael rolled his eyes and glanced toward the door.
"Please go away," he called.
"Sire, 'tis Liesel," a low female voice came. "Her Grace did bid me bring her a book of poetry. Shall I simply leave it?"
Smothering a laugh, Michaela pulled her hands away and shook her head, getting to her feet.
"You two are incorrigible!" she whispered sotto voce as she headed for the door. "I _did_ want to show you this book, though. The binding is a work of art. Don't worry, though. I'll send her away."
She smoothed her skirts in an automatic gesture as she made her way across the room, glancing back at her husband and brother to blow them a kiss just before she set her hand on the latch. Liesel was waiting a little anxiously outside the door, arms clasped around a large leather-bound volume.
"Pardon the intrusion, my lady," the girl murmured, eyes averted as she dipped in a nervous curtsey.
"Nonsense. I asked you to come."
Neither Cathan nor the king could see how the girl brushed her mistress' hand as she straightened from her curtsey, but the touch seemed to freeze Michaela's thoughts in her head.
_You cannot resist me, but you have nothing to fear_ , came a voice in her mind, though Liesel's lips did not move.
Michaela blinked, a part of her aware that this was familiar, that Liesel was a friend, an even more deeply buried part of her remembering what was about to be set in motion.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly. "But, come in and show the king and my brother. Cathan, I want you to see how beautifully Brother Lorenzo replaced this binding."
Cathan looked at her a little oddly, but Liesel was already heading across the room to show off the book, diverting the men's attention from the fact that Michaela locked the door before following. The queen reached her chair between husband and brother just as Liesel proffered the book for Cathan's inspection—and took control of him as her hand touched his.
"Rhysem, Liesel is a friend," Michaela found herself whispering urgently, as Cathan breathed out with a faint sigh and his eyelids fluttered closed. "She's come to help us. Please don't raise an alarm until you've heard what she has to say."
"Hear me, Sire," Rhysel joined in urgently, not breaking gaze with the king, keeping one hand on Cathan's wrist as she set her book aside. "Read the truth of what I say. I promise you that I am not an enemy. What I am, I think you know."
The stunned Rhys Michael had half risen from his chair, instantly on guard, but at Michaela's nod of reassurance, sitting calmly in her chair between them, he partially subsided. Still watching him, Rhysel came around to stand between Cathan and Michaela, relaxing their controls. Cathan blinked, then turned to look up at her in awe. Michaela swallowed nervously, but could not seem to summon up any fear.
"I apologize to all of you," Rhysel said softly. "It isn't usually done, to take control of friends without their permission. But I had to be certain you wouldn't raise an alarm before you realized I wasn't a threat. And I am _not_ a threat—not to the three of you, at any rate. The great lords are another matter, entirely."
"You're Deryni," Rhys Michael breathed, wide-eyed. "Someone's come at last. Javan promised me you would, but it's been so long—"
Rhysel let herself relax just a little, briefly turning away to pull a stool closer.
"They hurt us badly when they killed your brother, Sire," she said quietly, sinking down on the stool. "Those few Deryni who had successfully infiltrated the Court were killed—though at least no one ever knew for certain what they were. After that—well, we have never been very many, Sire, who could work at the levels necessary to do you any serious good—which is partially why we had to wait for my generation to grow up a bit. My mother was Evaine MacRorie, and my father was the Healer Rhys Thuryn, for whom you are partially named."
"Rhys and Evaine's daughter," Rhys Michael murmured, taking it all in. "I remember both of them. That makes you—some kind of a distant cousin to Mika and Cathan." He looked at her uncertainly. "Are you a—a Healer, then?"
Rhysel smiled and shook her head. "Alas, no, though my brother and sister both have that gift."
"And what gift do _you_ have, Mistress Liesel?" Michaela found herself asking, not by compulsion this time, but out of genuine curiosity.
Their fair captor smiled. "Actually, my name is Rhysel—though I've made, ah, certain 'adjustments' to ensure that you and your brother won't slip and call me that. That's part of my gift." She shifted her gaze back to the king. "I must ask that you guard your own tongue in that regard, Sire."
"Then, you—haven't tried to influence me," Rhys Michael whispered.
She shook her head. "Almost certainly, you would have felt my touch. But if you hope to survive what may wait for you in Eastmarch, you must allow my touch tonight. Do you know of the power that your brother bore?"
"What good did it do _him_?" the king replied, looking down at his clasped hands. "The great lords still killed him, in the end."
"King Javan had some appalling luck and made some unfortunate decisions that had nothing to do with whether or not he had that power," Rhysel retorted. "But if you aren't prepared to meet Prince Miklos or Marek of Festil on their own terms, it's quite possible that your son will never even get to be a puppet king!"
Rhys Michael looked up sharply at that, and Michaela gasped and set a hand of entreaty on Rhysel's forearm.
"Can you really help us?"
"I can try." Rhysel turned her golden gaze directly on the king's. "But everything hinges on your willingness not to resist what is asked of you tonight, Sire—and even that may not be sufficient."
Rhys Michael breathed out a heavy sigh.
"If you're asking me to open my mind to you, I don't think I can," he whispered. "I have shields. Javan tried to get past them, but he couldn't."
"Because you were trying to prevent it," Rhysel breathed. "But you _can_ learn to lower them. We'll show you how."
" _We!_ "
Rhysel nodded. "Joram and my brother Tieg. There's a way to smuggle them into the castle in disguise. If they should be caught and found out, it's death for both of them—and probably death for the rest of us as well, if anyone draws the correct conclusions—but we're willing to take the risk, if you agree to do your part."
"And what—what would I have to do?" Rhys Michael whispered.
"Whatever they ask you to do— _whatever_ they ask, no matter how strange it may sound or how much it might frighten you. That goes for all three of you," she added, including Michaela and Cathan in her glance.
Michaela swallowed, not taking her eyes from Rhysel's. "I'll do it," she whispered. "You have my word."
"And mine," Cathan agreed.
"And what about you, Sire?" Rhysel murmured.
Hardly even breathing for a few seconds, Rhys Michael stared at her searchingly—he had been Truth-Reading her for some thro—then turned his gaze neutrally to his wife.
"Mika, give me the Haldane brooch, please," he said.
As she slowly unclasped the brooch with trembling hands, the king got to his feet, the grey Haldane gaze meeting Rhysel's unflinchingly.
"You shall have my word as well," he said, as Michaela handed him the brooch. "But for a pledge as important as this, I wish to make it on something more important than even a holy relic." He cupped his two hands around it and held it slightly toward Rhysel, who also stood.
"My lady, are you aware what this means to us?" he asked softly.
Rhysel nodded. "Your aspirations for a Haldane throne that's free."
"Then, believe me when I say to you that this is my most sacred oath," the king said, shifting his right hand to cup over the top of it. "By the life of my son who is and the child who shall be"—his glance darted briefly to Michaela—"I pledge you my word as an anointed king that I shall do everything in my power to assist you and those who shall come."
"I swear it also," Michaela whispered, laying her hand atop his.
Cathan also had risen as he saw what his brother-in-law intended, and as the brooch was extended to him in turn, he kissed the fingertips of his right hand, then laid them over the brooch now cupped again in the king's hands.
"My faith as well," he said, glancing aside at Rhysel. "There is no holier oath I can swear to my liege and king."
Tears were glittering in Rhysel's eyes as Cathan's hand fell away, and she nodded tentatively toward the brooch.
"May I, Sire?" she whispered.
Nodding, he held it out to her, still cupped in the hollow of his hands, locking his gaze with hers as she laid both her hands lightly atop it, one overlapping the other.
"I pledge you my word that I am your true servant, Sire," she said, "and that I and mine shall never play you false. What we shall do, we shall do only for good and for the good of this kingdom. So help me God." She swallowed at his nod and withdrew her hands.
"I'll go now, to bring the others. Cathan, if Fulk should return before I do, be certain to leave the door ajar to warn me."
"That I will, my lady," Cathan murmured. "But, is there anything else we should do while you're gone? Any preparations we should make?"
She quirked him a wry smile and picked up her book. "Your prayers would not be amiss."
The bored guards outside the royal apartments did not question her departure and would not cause problems when she returned. Soon, a torch in one hand and book hugged close in the other, she was cautiously exiting the turnpike stair on the library floor—sent by the queen to exchange the book for another, should anyone inquire.
The Haldane man-at-arms and gangly squire waiting in the room adjacent to the library wore the faces of Joram and Tieg, though no one in the castle was likely to recognize either. Joram had never spent much time at Court, and he had covered his distinctive silver-gilt hair with a quilted arming cap and mail coif. In addition, the Haldane crimson of the surcoat over his leather jazerant was very different from the Michaeline blue that had always been associated with him.
As for Tieg, he had been a child of two or three on his last visit to the castle, a far cry from this lean, long-limbed youngster kitted out in the livery of a Haldane squire. Since midafternoon, someone had barbered his reddish hair in the stark pudding-bowl style expected of young gentlemen in squire's training, reinforcing a disguise that would enable him to move about the castle almost invisibly. As a final touch, Tieg was cradling two dusty, grey-glazed bottles of wine, ostensibly brought up from the royal cellars, and the thoroughly bored-looking Joram raised a laconic eyebrow as he held up a third.
It was a scenario not likely to be questioned, for one of the illusions that Rhys Michael had taken pains to maintain during the years of his incarceration was that of a prodigious capacity for alcohol. In fact, far more wine had gone down the royal garderobes than had passed the royal lips, but he had quickly learned that when the great lords thought him less than sober, they sometimes tended to talk more freely in front of him. Sending down to the royal cellars on the eve of separation from his wife and son was not at all out of character.
Nodding silent approval, Rhysel sent both of them a quick assessment of her progress with her royal charges. Then, after scanning the corridor outside, she scurried back the way she had come, so that she might arrive back at the royal apartments before them. The guards took only bored note of her return, and a brief word with each ensured that the two men soon to arrive would not be challenged. She left her torch in a wall cresset before going inside.
She found the door ajar between the outer anteroom and the solar, as she had feared—though at least that meant that Fulk had returned now instead of later, to interrupt important work. As she slipped into the solar and saw Fulk sitting with Cathan at the table, Fulk in the chair the king had occupied, she reflected that she had been looking forward to what she was about to do for nearly as long as she had been resident at the castle.
"Oh, good evening, Sir Fulk. The queen bade me fetch her a book."
Fulk came to his feet and bowed, casual and smiling, and Cathan glanced around with a silly grin. The table had been mostly cleared in her absence, but a silver goblet stood before Fulk, and another was in Cathan's hand. The latter had his feet propped up on the near arm of the queen's empty chair.
"Too late," Cathan said cheerily, raising his cup in salute. "The King's Grace has already changed his plans for the evening. I don't suppose you'd care to change yours as well?"
Rhysel smiled and arched an eyebrow as she came closer, a little surprised—and flattered—at his choice of a ruse, but playing along. Despite his slightly slurred speech, Cathan was not drunk.
"Indeed," she replied, "the thought _is_ tempting—and 'tis a passing fine book of love poetry that's set to go to waste. But with _two_ handsome gentlemen to choose from—"
Chuckling good-naturedly, Fulk came over to pluck the book from her hands.
"Here, now. Let's see what—"
One of her hands closed over one of his, and she had him. As his eyes fluttered closed, and he started to sway, she steadied him and glanced at Cathan, indicating the outer door with her chin. At the same time she tightened her controls and guided the oblivious Fulk to a seat back at the table—but _not_ the king's chair.
In a matter of seconds, while Cathan went into the outer chamber to await the others' arrival, she had made the necessary adjustments to ensure that Fulk Fitz-Arthur henceforth would be the king's man first, and not his father's. Other than that, he was no worse than most young men of his class, and far better than most. And now that he would be unable to remember or tell of anything unusual that he might see or hear...
She got him back on his feet just as the connecting door from the outer chamber gently opened, and Cathan glanced in, standing aside then to admit Joram and Tieg. Rhysel shot them a relieved smile as she ushered Fulk past them, and Cathan came in and closed the door behind them.
"Come and sit down, Cathan," Joram said quietly, sweeping off his mail coif and arming cap and tossing them onto the table.
Cathan looked around at the sound of his name, his breath catching in his throat as Joram's grey eyes caught and held his.
"Sit, please," Joram repeated.
A little stiffly, Cathan came to sit in the chair that Joram pulled out from the table. Behind him, the door to the royal bedchamber slowly opened to reveal the king and queen. Rhys Michael had changed from his more relaxed attire of supper and now wore a scarlet Haldane tunic, secured at the throat with the Haldane brooch. And of course he wore the Eye of Rom.
"Come in, please," Joram said softly. "I hope you won't mind if we don't stand on ceremony, but we have a great deal of work to do in a very short time, if we're to minimize the danger of interruption. Cathan, Michaela, I don't know whether you remember that you were born Deryni."
Cathan could react but little, still caught in Joram's control, but Michaela paled and gave a faint gasp.
"I see that Tavis was very efficient," Joram said, flicking a glance at her, then back to Cathan as he sat easily on the edge of the table. "It's going to be a bit tricky putting _back_ the memories that were taken away, so we'll do Cathan first, since there's less to do; he was younger when it happened. The two of you may come closer and watch, if you wish. I'll try to explain as I go, so it won't seem so frightening. Cathan, look at me, please. There's nothing to fear."
Cathan obeyed without hesitation.
"Now. We haven't the time to go into great detail, but believe me when I tell you that both you and your sister used to have some Deryni powers, or at least the potential to be developed. To protect you both, when you were still very young, it became necessary to block those powers and to bury the memory that you ever had them. I apologize for that, because it cut you off from your heritage, but it also made you immune to the Deryni-specific effects of _merasha_ , which probably saved your lives. We would have restored you sooner, but not just anyone can do it. Tavis had the ability, and another man you never knew, but they're both dead. Tieg is the only one left that we know of.
"He's going to unblock those powers now. You needn't be anxious. I think you'll have shields and a bit more, but Tieg is going to turn control over to me after he's put things back. Then I'll come in with a deep briefing to catch you up on what you need to know now, as an adult."
As he glanced at Tieg and gave a slight nod, the young Healer moved into place behind Cathan's chair, big Healer's hands cupping gently atop Cathan's sandy head. Cathan's eyes closed of their own weight, and Tieg's went dreamy and unfocused.
"Good natural shields," Tieg said softly, after a moment, "a bit more that can be developed, though not instantly. No training at all, though. Over to you, Uncle Joram."
As he lifted his hands, flexing his fingers several times, Joram bestirred himself from his perch on the table edge and moved in. Cathan had not moved under Tieg's touch, but the closed eyelids flickered as Joram set his hands to the younger man's head. After a moment, as Joram drew back, Cathan gave a long sigh and opened his eyes.
"C-Cathan?" Michaela asked, flinching as he raised his eyes to hers.
"I'm all right," he said softly, searching first her face and then Rhys Michael's with his blue gaze. "It's as if—as if someone has lit a lamp inside my mind."
He got to his feet as, with a sob, she came to him, burying her face against his chest while he made awkward little stroking motions on her hair, dislodging several of the roses. Apart, Rhys Michael watched helplessly, not daring to move closer or to say a word as Joram came to take her from her brother. She looked up at the Deryni as he put his hands on her shoulders to draw her away, not taking her eyes from his as he urged her to sit where Cathan had sat.
"I promise, there's nothing to fear," he whispered. "Your husband will need your help. Just close your eyes now, and relax."
Her eyes seemed to close of their own accord. She felt Joram's hands fall away, and then the hands she knew must be the boy's were resting gently on her head, the fingertips pressing lightly against her temples. She could feel all resistance draining out of her, and then a deep, throbbing silence punctuated by a single, crystalline resonance and the flare of warmth and light behind her eyelids.
"Good shields here, too," she heard the boy's voice say, as if through layers of cotton wool, as his hands lifted and others took their place. "See what you can do."
The next thing she knew, she simply _knew_ a great deal about them and what they planned. As she opened her eyes, she found herself already considering how best to help Rhysem. Her first thought was to reach out her hand to him, smiling as she bade him come to her. There were tears in the grey Haldane eyes as he knelt at her side, taking her hand to cradle it to his lips.
"Mika?" he managed to murmur.
"I'm fine," she whispered, fighting back her own tears. "Rhysem, what do you see, when you look at me now?"
"I see—a sort of brightness. It's shields, isn't it?" His face fell. "But, if _I_ can see them, what about other Deryni? What if Dimitri sees them?"
Smiling, she damped the shields, watching the look of awe come over his face.
"I know how to do that much, at least," she said. "I'm not sure what else, but—I'll figure that out some other time. Maybe while you're gone. As for Dimitri, I suspect he'll be going along with you, so we'd better see about getting _you_ some protection. Father Joram?"
Joram had drawn Cathan with him to the door to confer with Rhysel as the royal couple spoke, and now he motioned them toward the royal bedchamber.
"We'll move in there now, where there's a better chance of privacy," he said. "I've pared the formalities to the bone, but the rest of our work will require a bit more intensity. An interruption could be literally fatal. Cathan will keep Fulk occupied and make certain no one else gets past them."
As Cathan passed on into the anteroom, Tieg was already moving into the bedchamber, taking something out of the small pouch at his belt. Rhysel fetched a ball of white wool from one of the sewing baskets in the solar window and followed as Rhys Michael got up from his knees and helped his wife to her feet. Joram briefly withdrew to confirm that Cathan knew his part. When he shortly joined the four of them, Rhysel was unwinding the ball of white wool, laying it down to mark out the circumference of a large circle centered on the Kheldish carpet at the foot of the royal bed.
"Sire, could you come over here, please?" Tieg called softly, from where he was pouring water into a cup on the little table beside the bed.
Though the king complied, he cast a wary glance at the small blue glass vial in one of Tieg's hands. It seemed almost to glow in the light of the single candle lit there.
"What's that?"
"Just something to relax you a little, to take the edge off your nervousness. It's perfectly harmless. You aren't going to lose consciousness or anything like that."
Rhys Michael swallowed with an audible gulp, looking at Joram in appeal as the older man came to join them.
"Joram, I don't think I can do this," he whispered, watching as Tieg unstoppered the little blue vial and began counting drops into the cup.
"I don't think you can _not_ do it," Joram said quietly. "You've got very rigid shields and very little control, and we haven't a great deal of time to take things gently. This should make our work a lot easier—and yours."
Rhys Michael had gone a little pale as Joram spoke, and he glanced with growing horror at the cup Tieg now extended.
"Joram, I can't," he whispered. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's been like. They kept me drugged for months after Javan was killed."
"This won't be like that," Joram replied, taking the cup from Tieg and holding it out to the king. "We want to enhance your perceptions, not dull them. This is similar to what was given to you and your brothers the night your father died. I assure you, there's nothing to fear."
As the king turned away, trembling, Michaela came to him, gently laying a hand on one taut shoulder.
"Rhysem, you must trust them," she said softly. "Joram is right; we haven't a great deal of time. If he says this will help, we have to believe him. Drink it, my love. Do it for me, for Owain—"
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Please, don't ask this of me. I can do it without."
"I _am_ asking, Rhysem," she went on. "I'm asking the same way _you_ asked, many years ago, when Cathan and I had to do something similar. Do you remember?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her in question.
"I know _I'd_ forgotten, until Joram gave me back my memories," she went on. "I was ten. It was the morning after Cousin Giesele died in her sleep, and the regents wanted to find out if Cathan and I knew anything. We didn't, of course. But then Archbishop Hubert said we couldn't see our parents until after we'd drunk a sleeping potion. We didn't want to; we were afraid. But then you came over and took the cups from Hubert, and you said, 'Mika, don't be silly. It's for your own good. It will only make you sleep for a while.'"
She could see by his expression that he remembered, and she quietly took the cup from Joram, to hold near her husband's hand.
"I have to say the same sort of thing to you now, Rhysem," she whispered. "Don't be silly. It's for your own good. And it won't even make you sleep; it will only help you relax a little. Isn't that right, Tieg?"
As the young Healer nodded, Rhys Michael glanced at him, at the cup, then back at Michaela. He said nothing as he took the cup from her, and his hand was trembling, but he drained it in one long draught, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand before setting the cup back on the little table.
"Good man," Joram murmured, as Tieg grinned and touched the king's hand in thanks and reassurance, then moved past him to join Rhysel in the circle. "Now, try to relax for a few minutes, until we're ready for you. Try gazing into the candle flame—or lie down, if you wish."
As Joram likewise led Michaela to join Tieg and Rhysel in the circle, Rhys Michael drew a deep, shuddering breath and did his best to follow Joram's instructions. He knew he had made a fuss over something that should have been very minor, but he could not summon up any guilt about it. Even though he believed he trusted these Deryni who had risked so much to come to him, the incident had smacked far too much of the sort of treatment he had had at the hands of the great lords in those early days, and the threat of more such treatment if he ever crossed them.
He sat himself down on the edge of the great bed and made himself draw another deep breath, gazing into the candle flame. He thought he could begin to feel Tieg's drug working in him, but he wasn't sure. He did seem to feel a bit less anxious now, and he found his heart rate had slowed when he pressed his fingers to the pulse in his neck.
He closed his eyes, letting the slow, steady pulse beat take him deeper, trying to put his fear aside, and gradually became aware that the edge of his hand was touching the Haldane brooch at his throat. Covering it with his hand, he bowed his head and dared to breathe a prayer that what they were planning would work.
After a while, the prayer drifted into stillness, and remaining upright seemed to require too much effort. It was pleasant and floaty behind his closed eyelids, so he drew another deep breath and let himself lie back on the bed, legs still dangling off the edge. As he outflung his arms to either side to stretch, a more fearful and cynical part of him marked the symbolism as acknowledgment that he, like his brothers, was very likely to become another sacrifice for the great lords' ambitions, just as the Christ had stretched out His arms upon the Cross; but a sterner part of him rejected such defeatist notions and brought his hand back to the brooch, like a talisman against the great lords' power over him—the Haldane lion, bold and fierce and proud. He could feel the cool of the metal and enamel under his hand as he made his resolve, and he hardly even flinched when someone lightly touched his other wrist.
"Sire, we're ready for you," Joram said quietly.
CHAPTER SIX
Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice.
—Job 4:15–16
Rhys Michael felt a momentary rush of light-headedness as he sat up a bit too quickly, and he gratefully accepted Joram's steadying hand as he stood down beside the bed. It took a few seconds for his vision to settle. He was not exactly dizzy, but he surmised that Tieg's drug probably was responsible for the faint distancing he seemed to be experiencing as he glanced around the room.
The very silence was imbued with a clarity, a sense of expectation, that he had never experienced before. Beyond the foot of the bed, he could just make out the others gathered in the circle marked out by Rhysel's wool—Rhysel closest, Mika to her right, between him and the door, and Tieg opposite Rhysel, with his back to the curtained window bay. The arrangement seemed to strike a familiar chord in Rhys Michael's memory, but he could not quite remember why. It occurred to him that the window faced east, and that this was significant.
The light seemed odd, too, not so much bright as—different. Only two other candles were burning in the room besides the one on the bedside table: one by the door and one on the floor in the center of the circle, next to what looked like a small glazed cup. The latter was hard to make out, as were the occupants, but if Rhys Michael squinted his eyes just so, he thought he seemed to detect a faint silvery sheen wrapping itself over and around the circle, like a huge, almost invisible bowl upturned over it. The hazy glow obscured his vision almost like looking through a fine veil, cobweb-fragile, and he shook his head slightly to try to clear it as Joram led him forward, heading them between the circle and the foot of the bed.
Instinct warned him not to try to touch it. Even passing close to it, he felt his skin seem to crawl. Just past the bed, he noted that the circle was incomplete. The two ends of white wool that should have closed it had been folded back to either side to leave a gap wide enough for a person to pass. The Haldane sword lay on the floor just outside, with its point just touching the more easterly side of the gap and angled to suggest an open door. Peering more closely at the opening, Rhys Michael thought the air seemed slightly clearer there, as if there really was a door through something just beyond his ability to see.
"Go into the circle and wait in the center, Sire," Joram said quietly, as he indicated the opening. "I'll join you when I've let Cathan know we're starting."
Rhys Michael could feel the hackles rising at the back of his neck as he passed uneasily into the circle. Mika came to him as he entered, gathering him to the center in a silent embrace that needed no words. He kissed her gently, and as they drew apart, she kissed her fingertips and pressed them lightly to the Haldane brooch at his throat, tears in her eyes. Smiling, he did the same, the wonder of her loyalty and love lending him courage and determination as Joram returned, passing again between the circle and the foot of the bed. As Joram bent to pick up the Haldane sword, Rhys Michael noticed a small silver cross now hanging outside his crimson surcoat, a tangible reminder of the Deryni's priestly calling.
Somehow reassured by that, the king let his wife withdraw to her former place and turned back to the opening. As soon as Joram had entered, Tieg crouched down briefly to bring the ends of white wool together and loosely knot them, symbolically completing the circle.
But it was Joram's action that actually completed it, Rhys Michael knew. Setting the point of the sword to the floor at the left side of where the doorway had been, Joram drew the blade smartly across the former threshold three times. Each stroke seemed to make the fog intensify in the opening, so that when he finished, bending briefly to lay the sword just along that part of the circle's arc, only the weapon's position remained to indicate where the opening had been.
"You stand now in a warded circle, Sire," Joram said softly, coming to turn him toward Tieg now, but well back from the candle. "I believe you sensed something of its power when you passed through its gate, which now is closed. The circle is guarded by the holy archangels, upon whom we shall call again shortly. A few small preparations are required first, however. Give me your right thumb, please."
Heartbeat quickening despite his determination not to be afraid, Rhys Michael gave Joram his right hand. As he did so, young Tieg produced a small piece of parchment from his belt pouch and, surprisingly, the Haldane Ring of Fire. Joram, meanwhile, had drawn a small silver dagger from a sheath at his belt. Somehow, Rhys Michael had the feeling he had seen it before, but he could not quite remember where.
"You've gone through part of this before," Joram said, compressing Rhys Michael's thumb beside the dagger's blade. "The sacrifice of blood and at least a token test of courage have been elements of all the empowering rituals in which I've assisted. The form we have used has differed, according to the circumstances, but the blood baptism of the Ring of Fire seems to be a constant, as is the formal naming of the king. The words you are about to hear were chosen by your father. Tieg?"
With a casual gesture of one Healer's hand, Tieg conjured a fist-sized sphere of greenish handfire and set it hanging in the air slightly above their heads. The suddenness of it startled Rhys Michael, especially so close, but he knew what it was; he had seen Javan conjure handfire once. But even had he wished it, he could not have pulled back, for Joram's hand held him fast, his thumb imprisoned close by the shining blade. He forced himself to lower his eyes from the handfire as Tieg tilted the square of parchment toward its light and read.
" _I will declare the decree. The Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son: This day have I begotten thee. Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession._ "
Rhys Michael blinked at the words. He had heard them before, he was sure, at a time just beyond the range of recall. He was still trying to remember where, when Joram drew his captive thumb sharply across the dagger's razor edge, to the accompaniment of other words that struck a chord somewhere deep inside him.
"Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd, be thou consecrated to the service of thy people."
He could not move. He seemed frozen in this instant of time: Into the thrumming silence that followed came the faintly rasping sound of Joram twice drawing the flat of the blade across the thigh of his breeches to clean it, then the cool, metallic snick of it being sheathed. The blade had been sharp enough to cause no immediate pain or much bleeding, but Rhys Michael's jaws clenched as Joram compressed the cut from the ends and it gaped open, welling with blood in which Tieg carefully rolled the dark red stones of the Ring of Fire. The touch of the stones against raw flesh made the king bite back a gasp of real pain, all his body tensing, but then the wounded thumb was being pressed to the parchment Tieg handed to the elder Deryni, mere pressure that allowed the cut to close.
The action gave the young Healer brief respite to pull a bit of clean linen from his pouch and wipe the thumb clean, then clasp it in one hand for a few blurred seconds. The pain ceased; and when Tieg opened his hand a moment later, releasing the king's thumb, the wound was completely healed.
Joram, meanwhile, had bent briefly to retrieve the cup at their feet. Rhys Michael guessed that the liquid half filling it was water, but by the greenish light of the handfire above, he could not be sure. Joram looked very focused as he slightly lifted the cup between them in his left hand, the parchment held over it on his open right palm. He did not even blink as the parchment burst into flames and, within a few heartbeats, was reduced to a mere snippet of ash. This he tipped into the cup, watching the ash disintegrate as he spoke again.
" _Give the king Thy judgments, O God, and Thy righteousness unto the king's son._ "
Rhys Michael breathed a fervent "Amen," and let the words sink into his soul as Joram held the cup closer to Tieg. The Healer carefully slipped the bloodstained Ring of Fire into the cup, then summoned the handfire down beside the cup while Joram gently swirled the ring around the bottom to stir the contents. When it was done to both their satisfaction, Tieg drew the handfire back into his hand and quenched it, leaving the circle lit only by the candle near their feet and the two elsewhere in the room.
"You drank of a similar cup once before, Sire," Joram said quietly. "As we proceed, I expect you'll begin to remember. We shall now reiterate the blessings that made it potent by more than blood, calling upon our archangelic guardians to witness our intent. Stand where you are and attend. It's customary to turn as we invoke the various Quarters, beginning in the East."
So saying, he passed the cup to Tieg, then stepped back to the edge of the circle closest to the foot of the bed as Tieg likewise retreated to the easternmost limit of the circle. Clasping the cup between his Healer's hands, Tieg briefly bowed his head over it, then lifted his face heavenward, eyes closed. His deep voice was low and musical, almost singing words Rhys Michael had heard before—he could almost remember when.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In trembling and humility we come before Thee with our supplications, asking Thy blessing and protection on what we must do this night."
Slightly elevating the cup, he shifted his right hand to extend the palm flat above it, lifting his eyes to a Presence that only he seemed able to see.
"Send now Thy holy Archangel Raphael, O Lord, to breathe upon this water and make it holy, that he who shall drink it may justly command the element of Air. Amen."
Shifting the summoning hand to support the foot of the cup, he raised it just above eye level and threw back his head, eyes closing as a faint breeze stirred his reddish hair, swirling once around the circle's confines and then subsiding. Rhys Michael, standing at the circle's center, felt the ghost-breath of the stirring as a crawling of the fine hairs on his forearms and a chill along his spine. As Tieg lowered the cup, the king found himself joining his hands in an attitude of prayer, fingers pressed to his lips, only now beginning to realize the magnitude of what they Called.
The young Healer smiled faintly, bowing slightly to the king before moving slightly to his left to hand the cup to Michaela. Rhys Michael turned to face her, but she did not seem really to see him, so intent was she upon young Tieg. She received the cup as if it bore the Blessed Sacrament, reverently bowing her head over it before lifting it as he had, with palm extended flat above it, drawing upon the knowledge they had given her of her heritage.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. We pray Thee now to send Thy holy Archangel of Fire, the Blessed Michael, to instill this water with the fire of Thy love and make it holy. So may he who drinks of it justly command the element of Fire. Amen."
Rhys Michael fancied he could see blue flames flickering above the rim as she lifted it in further offering, though he could not imagine that she had the power to craft such fire herself. Whatever its source, her face seemed aglow as she carefully passed the cup to Rhysel. Only reluctantly did he take his eyes from her as she backed into her place and the younger woman bowed briefly over the cup, then lifted it in supplication.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. Let now Thine Archangel Gabriel, who rules the stormy waters, instill this cup with the rain of Thy wisdom, that he who shall drink hereof may justly command the element of Water. Amen."
Rhys Michael flinched as thunder seemed to rumble softly all around him, glancing instinctively at the door beyond Michaela, for surely they must be able to hear it in the next room. A glittering mist seemed to gather above the cup as Rhysel spread her hand higher above the cup, almost-lightnings crackling and spitting from hand to contents.
A whiff of the sharp, clean scent of summer thundershowers prickled briefly at his nostrils, and when she lowered the cup, beads of moisture were streaming down the outside, dripping on the carpet as she took it to Joram. The priest appeared nonplussed, as did Rhysel, only wiping his right hand against the tail of his surcoat before extending it over the cup he raised. Despite their apparent nonchalance, the king felt a shudder of fear tighten along his spine, and he had to clasp his hands tightly together to stop their trembling as Joram spoke.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. Let Uriel, Thy messenger of darkness and of death, instill this cup with all the strength and secrets of the earth, that he who shall drink hereof may justly command the element of Earth. Amen."
Very suddenly, in an instant of unexpected vertigo, Rhys Michael seemed to feel the floor lurch under his feet. Though it ended almost as soon as begun, he had to scramble to regain his balance, arms briefly outflung in mindless dismay until the room stabilized. He could hear the hollow, tinkling sound of the Ring of Fire rattling against the inside of the cup as Joram lowered it, and his heart was still pounding as the Deryni bade him turn to face Tieg again.
The young Healer had come forward to take up the candle, remaining deeper in the circle as Joram moved in beside him with the cup, and Rhys Michael found himself sinking to his knees before them. The candlelight lit their faces eerily from below, also lighting the cup with merciless clarity, and he knew he was trembling again.
"I can't tell you exactly what to expect next," Joram said quietly, studying the taut, upturned face of the young man kneeling before him. "I think you realize that this cup is now potent with far more than water and Haldane blood. Drinking it should be sufficient to take you past whatever has prevented your assumption of your father's power—but if it isn't, I'll step in. Possibly Tieg, as well. Try not to resist whatever happens. You probably _can_ , if you're determined not to let anything past your shields, but it won't be in your best interests."
Rhys Michael nodded dimly. He was very much aware of the power in the cup Joram now held out to him, a power whose promise he knew he had tasted before, at his father's hands. But as his own hands clasped around it and brought it to his heart, a flash of the futility of it all nearly made him drop it.
"Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, you are the true King of Gwynedd, God's anointed," he heard Joram saying softly, as if through a fog. "Drink. By this mystery shall you come to the power that is your Divine Right, as king of this realm; and even so shall you instruct your own sons, in due time."
Rhys Michael raised the cup in shaking hands and drank it to the dregs, wanting it to be true, praying that it _was_ true. The draught was bitter with ash and despair, flat with the faint salt-taste of his blood and his mortality. All too briefly, he thought he sensed _something_ vaguely stirring deep within him, the ghost flickers of unfamiliar images teasing behind his closed eyelids, but he could not seem to bring it to focus.
Choking back a sob of frustration, frantic to catch and hold the Sight, he sank back on his hunkers and blindly scrabbled the Ring of Fire out of the bottom of the empty cup, shoving the ash-smeared band of it hard onto his left hand. The momentary discomfort as it grazed across his knuckles flared as a fleeting glimpse of psychic clarity that made him gasp, came and was gone almost before it could register.
_No! Come back!_ a forlorn part of him pleaded, sightless eyes straining at the darkness.
Hands huddled to his breast half in prayer, he found himself rubbing at the knuckle he had scraped in donning the ring. In that instant he became acutely aware of another presence in the circle, both familiar and strange—not Joram or Tieg or either of the women—One who had the power to give him his Sight, if only he could focus, could bring the vision through. But how?
"Please, help me," he whispered, slowly collapsing over his clasped hands. "Help me, whoever you are. Help me to See, for the sake of my Crown and my kingdom!"
As he huddled there in a miserable ball of hopelessness, shaking his head in denial at his seeming impotence, he felt the cool sleekness of the Haldane brooch hard at his throat. Suddenly something Joram had said earlier came clear as crystal in his mind: _The sacrifice of blood... the test of courage..._
In that instant he knew what he must do. Reason shrank from the performing of it, but his fingers were already fumbling at the clasp of the brooch, easing the sleek length of shining metal pin from the throat of his tunic, testing the sharpness of it against a questing thumb.
"Sire?" came Joram's tentative query from somewhere far away.
He shook his head emphatically, shrinking away from the other's touch, opening the clasp wide so he could get a firm grip around the brooch itself as he poised the point of the sharp metal pin against the palm of his left hand.
"Don't touch me!" he whispered. " _I have to do this!_ "
He felt the pulse pounding in his ears and the surge of hopefulness welling up within him. Merely mortal flesh shrank from the certainty of the pain to come, but he offered up his fear in a heartfelt entreaty to Those who watched, of whose presence he had no doubt; to that Other who he prayed would be his salvation; and to Him in Whose service he had been anointed as king. Unlike his father or his brother Javan, he had never considered himself particularly religious, but he sensed the fitness of some formal seal on what he now did.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," he whispered, pouring all his will and longing into the invocation. "Not my will but Thine be— _done_!"
He jammed the clasp home on the final word, a part of him detached and almost surprised at how hard it was to force such a slender sliver of metal between bones and sinews.
And the pain of it—a blinding, burning agony centered in his palm but racing up his arm to lance into his brain in an explosion of white-hot light. The mass of the brooch itself was like molten metal in his hand, but far worse was the raging inferno that kindled in his head.
The fire illuminated old, long-buried memories—standing fearlessly before his father and draining another cup, his father's hands laid upon his head as power came surging through in a fountaining of light and heat, stirring the power and setting its access in place, then reimposing Blindness, setting constraints that should have loosed six years ago and more, when Javan died...
But besides his father's hands in memory, other hands suddenly were on his head here and now, and they were not Joram's hands, or Tieg's. He could feel the presence behind the hands pushing, probing, insisting, entreating, but his own defenses surged up in rebellion. He sensed the benign intent of that Other and knew he must not resist, but he could not seem to summon up the will to yield. In desperation, he jammed the brooch harder against his palm and gave a twist, shifting the impaling shaft of gold between the bones of his hand.
The new pain brought his intention abruptly and sharply to a focus, blossoming out like a flower of light, pushing back his shields, baring his soul to that Other who waited. As he felt the weight of ghost-hands upon his head, light exploded behind his eyelids with a white-hot brilliance, and his brief awareness of illumination faded smoothly into oblivion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
—II Corinthians 9:15
Joram briefly had glimpsed that other presence in their circle and knew that Tieg had seen it, too, by the startled look on his face. But as the king gave a little moan and collapsed onto his side, twitching alarmingly, Joram relegated any personal dismay to that deeply guarded inner place reserved for things he did not understand or entirely approve of. He doubted whether Tieg had recognized the figure as his Grandfather Camber, Joram's father, but the boy would surely ask about it later. Much to Joram's dismay, "Saint" Camber had acquired a disconcerting tendency to make unexpected appearances during magical workings, at least for Haldanes. Whether this betokened merely an ongoing interest in that royal House's well-being or was sign of more far-reaching intent, Joram had no idea; but with the king's life hanging in the balance, this was not the time or place to debate the issue, even with himself.
"Don't touch him!" he ordered, as Tieg started to go to the stricken king. "Let it run its course!"
Tieg drew back, though obedience clearly was at odds with the Healer's instincts urging him forward. Rhysel had gone to the queen as Rhys Michael collapsed, preventing her intervention, and glanced at her uncle in query as the king's movement ceased and Joram finally dropped to his knees beside him.
"All right, it's done," he murmured, darting a glance of summons at Tieg as he rolled the king onto his back. "I think he'll be all right. This follows the same pattern as other Haldane empowerings. Rhysel, please close down the circle while we see how he is. Your Highness, you'll help most if you don't interfere."
White-faced, Michaela nodded and sank to her knees where she stood, treeing Rhysel to take up the sword and set about closing the circle. Tieg had already come to crouch at the king's head, setting his candle aside to lay both hands across the pale forehead.
After a moment, he turned his attention to Rhys Michael's left hand, grimacing as the length of gold protruding from its back briefly snagged against a fold of scarlet tunic. Turning the hand palm-up, he gently unbent the fingers still clasped around the heavy enameled brooch, then carefully drew it free. Two small, almost bloodless puncture wounds remained, in the palm and on the back of the hand.
"That can't have been easy, on several counts," Tieg said as he handed off the brooch to Joram. "Hands are tough, and very sensitive to pain. At least what he did seems to have accomplished what was necessary. Were you expecting this?"
Joram shook his head. "Not this, precisely," he said, "but it was clear very quickly that something more was going to be necessary to focus him. He obviously figured out what it was."
Shaking his head, Tieg clasped the wounded hand in one of his own, fingers covering the two small punctures. When he released it, after a few seconds of concentration, both wounds had disappeared.
"How long will he be unconscious?" Joram asked, as the young Healer shifted his attention back to the king's head.
"Hard to tell. And when he does come around, all he's going to want to do is sleep. We'd better get him into bed. I do want to see him stirring before we leave, though."
"But he does have full powers?" Joram asked, as Tieg slid an arm under the royal shoulders to hit him to a sitting position.
"Well, I don't know how full is full, in the case of a Haldane, but there's certainly a lot more there than there was before."
"And could you block it, if you had to?" Joram persisted.
Tieg shot him an incredulous look. "If you're asking whether he feels like one of us, the answer is yes. And I can sense the triggerpoint. You don't really want me to touch it, though, do you?"
"Good God, no. I'm just trying to figure out how this all works. Let me give you a hand with him."
Together they pulled the unconscious king to his feet, an anxious Michaela also rising, though she did not try to interfere. Behind them, Rhysel had closed the circle and was briskly winding up the length of white wool that had delineated its boundaries. Rhys Michael began to revive as they manhandled him toward the bed, legs moving jerkily at first, then starting to support a little of his weight as he tried to lift his head and look around.
"You're going to be fine, Sire," Tieg reassured him. "Don't try to exert yourself. We're going to put you to bed now."
They braced him against the edge of the bed so they could begin undressing him, letting Michaela help. He was an almost dead-weight at first, but he seemed to be aware of his surroundings by the time they drew the sleeping furs up around his chest. Michaela had crawled up onto the other side of the bed and was sitting cross-legged beside him, watching fearfully as her husband's eyes scanned around him and gradually began to register reason.
"I know you must be very tired, Sire," Joram said, as the king's bleary gaze met his. "That's completely to be expected. The best thing you can do now is sleep. There will be a lot of demands on you tomorrow and in the days to come, and you'll want to tread slowly and cautiously as you explore the limits of your power."
Rhys Michael managed a weak nod and reached out to take Michaela's hand. She was smiling and crying, both at the same time.
"Mika, it worked," he whispered.
"Yes, my darling."
"Why did I fight this? How could anyone _not_ want it?"
"What you do _not_ want," Joram said grimly, "is any extra scrutiny. Unfortunately, I can't stay around to help you ease into wisdom on how to use your powers. I can only beg you to go slowly and be very, very careful, until you can find ways to shift the balance safely. The great lords did not achieve their positions of influence overnight, and you aren't going to get rid of them instantly, either. If all of them were to disappear right now, you wouldn't have the experienced support you'll need to reign effectively—especially if Eastmarch should turn into a full-blown war, God forbid. That support can be gathered, but not all at once.
"For now, your primary concern is to meet the challenge of Miklos of Torenth and stay alive. Remember that you're still mortal. Magic you may have, but swords and arrows, poison—they can all still kill you, if you aren't careful."
"I'll remember," Rhys Michael murmured, earnest resolution in his eyes. "Thank you, Father Joram—and Tieg. And please—thank that other man who was in the circle with us, there at the end. I'm not sure I could have done it, if it hadn't been for him."
Joram closed his eyes briefly, knowing he had not heard the last of this, then nodded. "We'd better go," he murmured, glancing at Tieg. "We don't want to press our luck—or yours. I wish there were time to establish a contact link for future communication, but you're in no condition right now. Later, perhaps, after you've returned. Meanwhile, Rhysel will continue to be your go-between. God keep you, Sire—and your Highness. You'd both best sleep now."
As he and Tieg slipped out of the room, Rhysel following, Michaela snuggled down to lay her head against her husband's shoulder. He smiled as he let his arm encircle her, reaching out drowsily with a tendril of thought to gently brush her mind. To his pleased surprise, he felt the feather-brush of her response in kind, fragile but exquisite. It was thus that he allowed himself to drift into sleep, enwrapped in her love and secure in the expectation that, at last, he had a weapon to use against his enemies.
One of those enemies even then was prowling the darkness not far away, bound on an errand for other masters besides those to whom he answered in the castle. Unseen, the Deryni Dimitri made his way along a dim-lit range of vaulted cellars, silent as a wisp of fog. Torches burned here and there along the stone-flagged corridor, but the pools of light they cast were far apart, leaving wide areas of darkness between.
The alcove Dimitri sought was well screened by one of these patches of darkness, and here he hid himself to wait. Very shortly his intended victim came sauntering along the corridor as expected—a bored and gullible young guard named Iosif, who had served Dimitri's purposes before.
He was bigger than Dimitri, and much younger, full-featured and powerfully built, with a mop of curly black hair above the scarlet surcoat that covered body armor of boiled leather. He was armed with short sword and dagger. One big hand bore a torch aloft, and the other swung a large ring of keys. Though his mere size would have made him a formidable opponent, Dimitri had no intention of ever letting their relationship become adversarial on any level.
Poised to make his move, he waited until the young man had come just abreast of the alcove, then reached out one hand to seize the man's nearer wrist, at once securing control and drawing him into the alcove, his free hand catching up the ring of keys before they could fall. His victim's eyes had closed at Dimitri's touch, and he offered no resistance as his torch hand slowly sank.
"Good evening, Iosif," Dimitri whispered, smiling slightly as he rescued the torch and snuffed it against the wall. "You do not remember me, but I promise you shall remember your reward, if you survive this night's work. Sit and be at ease now. I must reach very far tonight."
Oblivious to his mortal danger, the younger man sank at once to a sitting position against the wall, booted legs splayed wide to brace himself, head lolling against the rough stone at his back, big hands lying open and motionless beside his leather-clad thighs. His captor bent to set keys and torch within easy reach to either side, then folded to sit cross-legged between the younger man's knees. Drawing a deep breath then, Dimitri leaned slightly forward and reached up to lay hands on either side of the curly head, fingers slipping through the thick hair and thumbs coming to rest on the temples.
"You cannot resist me," he whispered, dark gaze fixing on the blur of his victim's closed eyes. "I regret that it may be necessary to hurt you, but I shall try to be brief. Look at me, Iosif. Open your eyes... and now open your soul..."
The young man's breath caught in a little gasp, but he obeyed. The Deryni's thumbs tightened. Ignoring the brief flash of dread in his subject's eyes, Dimitri at once breached the puny human defenses, quelling the stifled moan that passed the other's lips as he forced the pathways open wide and pushed deep into the other's mind, to the very core of life-force. He could taste the pain he caused as he began to pull the power to drive his intent, but he balanced his speed to a level that was safe enough, if less than comfortable. If he had to draw too deeply or for too long, true damage would be done, but that was a calculated part of the risk—Iosif's risk.
Steely-willed, Dimitri drove his call outward then, tight-focused toward the mind that should be waiting for his contact. Finding the connection he sought took longer than he would have liked—Iosif was tiring quickly—but once the link was secured, the communication itself was quick and smooth, briefly giddying as the other probed deep and then withdrew enough to pass on further instructions before dismantling the contact.
In the space of a heartbeat, Dimitri was alone in his subject's mind once again, blinking dazedly back to normal awareness. The pounding of his own heart indicated that the operation just completed had taken far more out of him than it usually did, so he drew a long, slow breath and pulled a bit more energy from Iosif to stabilize himself, breathing out men with a relieved sigh. The young guard looked pasty-faced and almost feverish as Dimitri assessed the cost, and the pulse in the side of Iosif's neck fluttered weak and thready under his captor's fingers.
"A near-run thing, eh, my hapless young friend?" Dimitri whispered, shifting a little energy back to better balance the younger man. "Now you shall have what you desire, but consider carefully what dream you shall wish for in the future. Succubi are passing fickle, and sometimes cruel. Pleasure they may give, but not always do they reckon well a mortal mount's endurance."
A sly smile curved at his lips as he set the old scenario in motion, for well he knew what men like Iosif desired, in the loneliness of the long night watch. The erotic fantasy starting to stir at the edges of the younger man's awareness was tailored to fuel the most profound of carnal longings.
The dream would be brief but vivid, after which a shaken and exhausted Iosif would be off on his rounds again. If he did not actually ascribe his condition to a literal visitation by the delectable succubus of nocturnal memory, he certainly would be convinced that his exhaustion came of an exquisitely satisfying dream—clandestine bliss stolen while he sought a catnap in one of the several hiding places he had discovered were safe from his sergeant's prying. And it was something he would never report to his superiors or even a confessor.
So Iosif would keep his secret—and Dimitri's—and the odd partnership would continue as long as Dimitri had need of him—or until the night came, as it could at any time, when Dimitri must drain his subject past recovery. A less skilled mage might simply have killed his subjects after each night's work—supplying such an illusion as Dimitri's required extra effort and a bit of imagination—but Dimitri was savvy enough to realize that a series of mysterious deaths would have aroused suspicion.
No, far better to use the same subject again and again, and give the workman generous compensation for his labors. As Dimitri got to his feet, the younger man already was beginning to breathe more heavily, face flushing with anticipated ecstasy.
Smiling slightly as he shook his head, Dimitri put the man from his mind and glanced out into the main corridor, scanning left and right. He had his orders; time enough to begin implementing them tomorrow, as opportunities presented themselves. Several ideas had occurred to him already...
His master, meanwhile, had also paid a price for the night's work. Far away, in the cool darkness of a sparsely furnished tower room of a castle called Culliecairn, Prince Miklos of Torenth lay still as death and set himself the welcome discipline of running slowly through a spell to banish fatigue. These far contacts necessary to maintain input from his agent in Rhemuth always left him drained, even when he augmented his energies, and it was hard on the subjects from whom he borrowed those energies. The sturdy captain sprawled unconscious in the chair beside the camp bed was accustomed to serving his prince in this wise, but even with a Healer's ministrations, he was apt to require a day abed to fully recover. But the extra power had to come from somewhere, and a subordinate could spare it far more easily than Miklos.
Stirring a little stiffly, the prince opened his eyes and carefully stretched each long limb before sitting up with a sigh. Long blond hair tumbled loose around his shoulders as he bent his head to press the heels of both hands hard against his forehead. At this sign of life, a shorter, darker young man of a similar age came over to pour wine into a pair of silver goblets, handing one to the man just awakened before flouncing down in another chair beside the narrow camp bed.
"Well?"
"It proceeds according to plan," the fairer man replied, lifting his cup in salute and then drinking it down. "The Haldane has taken the bait and will be here within a fortnight."
The younger man laughed aloud and lifted his own cup in answer. "Well done, Dimitri! I really didn't think they'd let him come out. I thought they'd simply send an army."
"They are sending that, too," Miklos said mildly. "And it remains to be seen whether he can be lured into a confrontation of the sort you seek, once he arrives."
Marek of Festil snorted and set his cup beside his chair.
"I don't see why not. If he thinks he can get Culliecairn back by negotiation, why should he wish to risk men's lives in battle?"
"True enough. However, he seems rightly to have deduced that we have not my brother's support in this venture, and that you are as yet in no position to make him a serious military challenge. These insights show a far keener understanding of political realities than we had been led to expect. We may have been mistaken in assuming that he is controlled by his great lords."
"Dimitri swears that he is," Marek said.
"I prefer to judge that for myself, I think. We can afford to go slowly."
"Miklos, I've been going slowly for twenty-three years," Marek said, exasperation in his voice. "I'm the same age my father was when the Haldane's father killed him. It's time I found out whether the Haldane magic that killed my father passed to his son. I don't think it did, or he would have used it by now to free himself from his great lords."
"I am inclined to agree; and if you are correct, I shall kill him for you."
"I can kill him myself."
"You probably could. However, if we both are wrong, and the Haldane magic is his, it is best that I be the one to find this out. The House of Festil can ill afford the loss of its head at this time. Your heir is less than a year old, Marek."
"And you _have_ no heir," Marek pointed out.
Miklos shrugged and smiled. "The gamble of a younger son, cousin. I have yet to establish _my_ dynasty, but if it's to be done, better on the basis of lands won than lands merely given, however generous one's benefactor."
"When I am king," Marek murmured, reaching across to clasp his cousin's arm, "when we have won back my lands, I shall make you Duke of Mooryn, holding all of southern Gwynedd. And it will be because you have won it, not because anyone deigned to give it."
"Which is precisely why I am willing to be a little reckless in your cause," Miklos replied with a sly smile. "Now, here is what I have asked Dimitri to do."
At that moment, what Dimitri had been asked to do was of far less concern to him than making his way back to the privacy of his own quarters for some much-needed sleep. Soul-weary from his work of the past hour, and grown at once arrogant and complacent through several years' supposition that he was the only Deryni at large in Rhemuth Castle, he hardly noticed or cared that his shields were sloppy as he began to climb a turnpike stair leading upward. What mere human would notice his vulnerability, should he chance to meet anyone?
But others noticed. Nor were they merely human. En route back to the Portal room beside the library, just emerging from the turnpike stair that had led them down from the level of the royal apartments, Joram and Tieg paused to glance quickly along the corridor and then back down the stairwell as they sensed the flare of undisciplined shields somewhere nearby. Simultaneously came the faint, padding whisper of soft-shod footsteps ascending the turnpike stair from farther below, confirming the source of the flare. But there should be no other Deryni here!
Hardly breathing, Joram set a hand on Tieg's forearm, tight-shuttered communication passing between them. By keeping their own shields locked down, they should be able to avoid betraying their identity as Deryni; but they stood little chance of going unnoticed, for Tieg carried a torch. Nor dared they risk being seen entering the little room beside the library.
But their mere appearance should arouse no suspicion, dressed as man-at-arms and squire. As such, they had every right to be about the castle at this hour. Could the intruder say as much? Who was he?
The only way to find out was to brazen it out. Shields pulled close, they turned back onto the landing to await whoever was coming, Tieg holding his torch aloft in simple courtesy. The footsteps continued up the stairwell, torchlight now breaking around the newel post, preceding the one who bore it.
Against the glare of the other man's torch, Joram could make out but little of his features, but his raiment was black and monkish. Joram felt the other's flare of interest as he became aware of them, but no suspicion. And before simple interest could shift to suspicion, Tieg boldly reached out to grasp the hand holding the torch, at the same time plunging deep for the triggerpoint, stripping the other's powers bare and plummeting him into oblivion.
The man had no time to cry out, even in his mind. Consciousness simply ceased. He went rigid rather than buckling at the knees, for Tieg's controls held him immobile. After a taut instant to confirm his work, the young Healer handed off first one torch and then the other to Joram, shifting his hands then to either side of the man's head to Read him. Within seconds he glanced back at Joram in consternation.
"Good God, Joram, this is Dimitri!"
Joram moved in beside him immediately, glancing around surreptitiously as he stubbed out one torch against the wall and then conducted his own quick probe of their captive's mind. The breadth and depth of Dimitri's ongoing deception was so vast as to be almost unbelievable, except that Joram had seen the results all too clearly. That the Deryni double agent was no longer capable of any deception or subterfuge hardly mattered, for his work for the great lords had cost the lives of scores of innocent men and women, over the years. His work for Prince Miklos of Torenth and the Festillic Pretender, Prince Marek, bespoke even more convoluted plots and betrayals.
_We'll take him back to the haven_ , Joram said in Tieg's mind. _I plan to strip him dry before I kill him_.
_That's risky_ , Tieg returned. _If he just disappears, awkward questions are likely to be asked, maybe even of the king_.
_If no body is ever found, his disappearance will remain a mystery_ , Joram replied. _They have no other Deryni to investigate it, and Fulk will verify that Dimitri never came near the royal apartments and the king never left them_ — _which is all quite true. Help me get him up_.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Who causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way, he shall fall himself into his own pit.
—Proverbs 28:10
With but a few hours remaining before dawn, Joram finally decided _not_ to kill Dimitri.
"The temptation is almost irresistible," he said to his closest advisors. "God knows he deserves to die. But considering what we've learned, I think he can serve our purposes far better if we return him precisely where Paulin and Hubert think he ought to be—with his orders suitably redirected, of course."
Bishop Niallan sat back wearily in his chair, absently rubbing one hand over his short-clipped grey beard.
"I just don't know, Joram. Granted, he'd be in a position to do us several very large favors, but this does complicate an already precarious situation."
The subject of their discussion still lay where he had been deposited some hours before, oblivious even to their presence, stretched out motionless on the long table previously taken up by maps and strategy papers. Still stripped of his powers and, therefore, quite humanly vulnerable, Dimitri had been subjected to the most thorough and rigorous examination of which the very proficient Deryni ranged around this table were capable. The full extent of his service to the great lords now was known, as well as the superior allegiance he owed to Miklos of Torenth—and had owed, from long before he allowed himself to be recruited by Paulin of Ramos.
"Well, it was an incredible double deception," Dom Rickart said, glancing toward the head of the table, where Jesse MacGregor was still immersed in trance, fine-tuning Dimitri's new orders while Queron and Tieg observed. "And what incredible luck, that he should just walk into your hands like that."
"What incredible luck, that one of _our_ people hasn't just walked into _his_ hands, over the last few years," Joram countered. "And if he'd ever gotten his hands on the king, it would have been the end of him. We've all seen what suspicions he already had."
"Which is all the more reason to simply kill him and be done with it," Ansel said. "The very thought of letting him go back alive, even controlled—"
"Ansel, the idea doesn't exactly thrill me either," Joram said sharply. He was still wearing his Haldane harness and looked taut and irritated. "I'm quite aware of the risks. But his disappearance just now, on the eve of departure for a major military expedition, would raise far too many questions—as would his death by 'natural causes.'"
"Didn't we eliminate some _Custodes_ priest just before Javan's coronation and make it look like natural causes?" Dom Rickart said thoughtfully.
"Yes, and Paulin was suspicious at the time, even though he was never able to put a finger on anything," Joram replied. "I don't think we dare use that ruse again, at least not in this instance. A convenient and fatal 'accident' would be useful, but that's far more difficult to arrange so that it's convincing, especially on short notice. And needless to say, we daren't even consider any form of killing that would be recognizable as murder."
Niallan gave a resigned sigh and bowed his head on one hand, rubbing at his eyes.
"So, if we do send him back controlled, how effective do you think he'll be?"
"Not very, and not for long, but he might have time and opportunity to eliminate at least a few of the opposition," Joram said. "Miklos will be the biggest limiting factor in that regard. The nature of the contact link he's forged with Dimitri ensures that he'll spot our tampering, if Dimitri makes the expected contact. So we can't allow that. And if Dimitri _doesn't_ make the contact, Miklos eventually will become suspicious and try to force it—which he's quite capable of doing. Either way, Dimitri's a dead man."
"What if the great lords get suspicious first?" Ansel asked.
Joram shrugged. "A lot depends on the circumstances, but the end result is pretty much the same. Since they know what he is, they're sure to dose him with _merasha_ before the questioning goes very far. Given the zeal of _Custodes_ inquisitors, they'll probably employ torture if he doesn't break fairly quickly—which he won't. His final defense is set beyond a very high pain threshold. I don't much care whether he tells about working for Torenth, so long as he dies before revealing that he's also become a triple agent."
"I gather he has a death-trigger set," Dom Rickart said.
Joram nodded. "Quite a powerful one. It's a mark of his devotion to Miklos that he willingly allowed it to be set, so there could be no possibility of him betraying Miklos under pressure. Fortunately, with his powers temporarily suspended, it's possible for Jesse to—adjust it."
"Just like that?" Ansel said indignantly. "A nice, clean death-trigger? You mean that after all the deaths he's caused, he just gets to suicide out?"
"He'll still be dead," Dom Rickart pointed out, faintly disapproving. "And suicide is hardly a clean way out, if you accept the teachings of the Church on taking one's own life."
Bishop Niallan waggled a hand in a yes-and-no gesture. "Actually, we may be saving him from that, Rickart. It can be argued that since he didn't agree to the changed terms we're imposing, his death won't technically be suicide anymore. Call it an indirect execution, if you prefer. Personally, I would as soon send his unrepentant soul straight to hell, but my office as a priest forbids indulgence in vengeance. I salve my conscience with the knowledge that at least he's going to have a chance to make some restitution before he dies—even if he's forced to do it."
A little taken aback at the vehemence of Niallan's response, Ansel sat back in his chair as Rickart raised an eyebrow and asked Joram, "How long are we talking about, then? How long do you think he'll have?"
Joram folded his arms across his chest with weary resignation.
"He's to contact Miklos again when the Haldane levies are about two days' ride out of Culliecairn—say, in about a week. That's assuming, of course, that Miklos doesn't decide he needs to initiate a contact sooner, for some reason. Keep in mind, though, that it takes a great deal more energy if the contact isn't expected and assisted, especially across such a distance. Naturally, such a contact becomes increasingly feasible, the closer together they get."
"Having said that," Queron interjected, speaking up for the first time, "the chances are that Miklos _won't_ attempt a contact for the first four or five days. With the kind of power outlay that's required, why bother, when the royal forces can't have done anything to threaten Miklos anyway? And if Dimitri tries to carry out his orders from Miklos and fails, what could Miklos do about it? Meanwhile, Dimitri can do a lot for _us._ "
Niallan nodded reluctantly. "I agree with your logic. You may well be right. But I'm still not happy about turning him loose totally without supervision and without the king knowing. So much could go wrong."
"Nothing can be done about the lack of supervision, if we're going to try this," Joram said, "but we'll see what we can do about alerting the king. It will have to be through Rhysel, and she may not have an opportunity to pass on the information, but it's worth a try."
"I'll see to it," Tieg said, rising.
Joram nodded. "Be as quick as you can, then. The longer we keep Dimitri here, the greater the danger that he'll have been missed."
The dawning light that morning was fitful, for rain had moved in over Rhemuth during the night. The steady drumming of it against the leaded window glass woke Rhys Michael just as Cathan was pushing back the heavy curtains covering the window bay, but the absence of proper daylight made him burrow back under the sleeping furs for a few seconds, seeking warmth nearer Michaela, before he remembered what had happened the night before.
He sat up with a start, causing Cathan to turn to him in question and Michaela to sigh sleepily in protest. Instinctively he reached out a tendril of thought to brush her mind, though he kept his shields close. Her startled query shifted almost immediately to a tender feather-brush of response that felt almost like butterflies in his mind, so intimate as to be almost physical, echoed by her hands as she snuggled closer under the sleeping furs. Glancing back at Cathan, Rhys Michael could only manage a sheepish grin.
"Oh, it's you," he murmured, affecting nonchalance as he partially reclined back onto the pillows. "Aren't you a bit early?"
"The rain makes it darker than it should be," Cathan said cheerily, coming closer to lay a robe across the foot of the royal bed. "Your squires are drawing a bath in your dressing room—and I'll remind you that you aren't likely to get another while we're on the march—but I think I can stall them for a little while, if you—ah—aren't quite ready to get up yet. I should point out, however, that you're both expected at Mass in about an hour, and Archbishop Hubert will be very cross if you're late."
He grinned as he handed over a cup of morning ale, deliberately touching his hand to the king's, and the brief contact enabled Rhys Michael to confirm from Cathan that, indeed, he had not dreamed the night before.
Laughing delightedly, Rhys Michael waved Cathan out of the room with a shooing motion and set the ale aside, then turned to take Michaela in his arms, soon losing himself in the sweet bliss of their joining. Almost from the beginning, there had been an urgency to their lovemaking that went beyond the mere physical, knowing that each time might be the last.
Now that urgency was heightened by the knowledge that he soon would be riding into a much more tangible and immediate danger than had been their constant companion for the last six years. Though they pleasured one another gently this morning, lest her pregnancy be endangered, their passion carried a new poignancy that left Michaela softly weeping in his arms when they were spent. Only a determination not to let him leave with this impression enabled her to summon up a tremulous smile as he drew apart from her at last, in response to Fulk's knock at the door, to shrug into the robe Cathan had left him and pad off to his bath.
Somehow, Michaela managed to keep further tears at bay as she set about her own ablutions and allowed her ladies to help her dress. She found their fussing and endless chatter even more irritating than usual, although Lirin, the youngest of them, was also a trifle subdued this morning, perhaps because her Richard also was set to ride out with the king. Lady Estellan's husband was going, too, but they had been married for more than thirty years and had not shared a bed for decades.
"Your Highness, you're very pale this morning," Estellan said, holding first one gown, then another near her face, though trying to judge color by the grey morning light and candles was difficult. "I thought you were through with the morning sickness."
"I'm fine, Estellan. Just a little tired."
"And missing the king already, I'll warrant. Well, you just concentrate on bringing that bairn to term. The king will do what he must, and God willing, they'll all come home safe."
To counter the grey of the morning and offset her pallor, Estellan brought her a loose-fitting gown of deep rose silk, with a wide border of interlaced golden lions chasing one another around the hem and trailing sleeves. It pleased Michaela well enough as she pulled it on over her shift—the gown was one of her favorites, and Rhysem's—but not until Rhysel came to do her hair could she begin to feel the grey lethargy lift from her mood.
"Oh, _there_ you are," Estellan said, as Rhysel approached with her basket of combs and brushes and pins and bobbed a quick curtsey. "She's looking a little peaked this morning, but the hair must be formal. The right veil will give her some color, I think. She's to wear her State Gown."
"Yes, my lady."
Making a deeper reverence to the queen, Rhysel set her basket on the dressing table and began brushing the tangles from the long, wheaten hair. After seeing Joram and Tieg safely on their way the night before, she had come back to Michaela to check on the king. Dead asleep, the newly empowered Rhys Michael had not stirred, but Michaela had greeted her like a sister, clinging to her for a long moment while she simply shook in after-reaction.
After, Rhysel had helped the queen ready for bed, then soothed her into dreamless sleep before returning to the sparse garret chamber she shared with another maid. She, too, had slept for a while after that—until Tieg's message roused her out of sleep and left her staring at the ceiling for what remained of the night.
"Pretend to be preoccupied while I braid up your hair," Rhysel whispered, as she divided off three thick sections with an ivory comb. "Whatever you do, don't react."
The officious Lady Estellan had disappeared momentarily, presumably to fetch the crown and a suitable veil, and Lirin and Lady Nieve were out of earshot, brushing up a drab-colored cloak by the wan light of day, over in the window bay, but Rhysel still shifted to mind-speech.
_There's been a new development—potentially, a very good one. You must pass this on to the king, if you possibly can_.
As her nimble fingers quickly plaited a thick braid to pin at the back of the queen's head, she silently imparted what portion of the news Tieg had instructed her to pass on. Rhysel had the whole of it, but too many details could only alarm Michaela and make her role that much more difficult to play, at least until she settled into her newly regained powers, such as they were. Michaela received the news of Dimitri's capture with amazement and a growing flare of hope, a little of it lending a new light to her eyes, though no sign of it showed in her expression.
_Now make some critical comment about the way I've done your hair_ , Rhysel sent silently, as Estellan returned with the crown and a rosy handful of gossamer veil. _We don't want the dragon lady wondering why you suddenly look much perkier than when I first came in_.
Michaela sighed and picked up a hand mirror to inspect Rhysel's work.
"I wish we could leave at least part of it down," she said, smoothing a side strand for Rhysel to pin. "The king likes to see it loose."
"Queens do _not_ wear their hair loose in public," Estellan said, handing Rhysel the veil with a sniff of disapproval. "Here, cover her Grace's hair with this before we put on the crown. It will give her some decent color."
"Yes, my lady," Rhysel murmured dutifully. The veil was a rose silk shot with gold, and actually did suit Michaela's coloring very well, but as Estellan momentarily turned her back to check on progress in the window bay, the queen stuck out her tongue, in a rare show of pent-up exasperation.
_The old cow!_ came her spirited expletive, fortunately only caught by Rhysel.
Biting back a smile, Rhysel arranged the veil close around Michaela's face, with part of it cascading back from the crown of her head, then set the crown in place—leaves and crosses intertwined and set with rubies like the king's. As Rhysel held up the mirror so the queen could get a better view, Estellan returned with Lady Nieve, bearing a grey wool cloak lined and hooded with grey rabbit.
"I'm afraid it's still raining, your Highness," Nieve said, as the queen rose and let herself be helped on with the cloak. "A pity to cover that lovely gown, but on a day like this—Never mind, though. You look beautiful. We'd best go now. Mustn't keep the archbishop waiting."
"Thank you, Liesel," Michaela murmured, as she turned to go, knowing Rhysel would understand that her thanks were not only for the service just performed with the royal tresses. She wished she could send her thanks directly into Rhysel's mind, but she seemed to require physical contact for that. Perhaps, in time, she would learn how to extend her strength.
But meanwhile, what she _could_ do had enabled Rhysel to pass on the news about Dimitri in safety, and she knew that she could pass it on to Rhysem in the same way, without anyone else being aware. That knowledge gave her hope that her husband's plight might not be nearly as desperate as they both had feared, for Dimitri's intended presence on the expedition to Eastmarch had been a source of some anxiety the previous afternoon. She hoped he would be greatly relieved to learn that Dimitri had been neutralized.
The bells were ringing for Terce as she went into the solar, where Rhys Michael also had just emerged. He was accoutred for his journey, in supple scarlet riding leathers under a tough, metal-studded scarlet jazerant, with scarlet gauntlets stuck into his white belt and the Haldane sword hanging at his side. The State Crown was on his head, and golden spurs were on his heels. He had left the Ring of Fire in Michaela's keeping earlier, for it was state regalia not suitable for the field, but the Eye of Rom was in his ear and his Haldane signet on his hand. He came to kiss her when she came out, then led her from the solar preceded by Cathan and Fulk, both clad in grey but armored much the same as he, with the badge of his service bold on their sleeves.
A squire bore a torch before them as they carefully descended the dim newel stair, and Michaela's ladies followed with another torch. The sounds of voices drifted up on the damp air to meet them as they approached the screens passage, whence they would enter the dais end of the great hall. Just as they reached the landing, little Owain broke away from an indulgent nurse and came running to join them, crimson-clad and joyous, miniature Haldane lions emblazoned bold across breast and back, though differenced by a label of the eldest son. He shrieked with delight as his father scooped him up to ride on his shoulders.
Thus did King Rhys Michael Alister Haldane make his way through the great hall and on to the Chapel Royal, with his queen on one arm and his laughing young son overseeing all from his superior height. Those gathered in the hall gave them reverence as they passed—courtiers and officers and a few of their ladies, some of the latter sniffing back tears to see the young prince thus. Those set to accompany the king on his expedition fell in behind, to join him for the Mass of Dedication that would send them blessed on their way.
Not until Mass was well in progress did Michaela find the opportunity to pass on Rhysel's news. Owain had gotten fidgety very quickly, once the Mass began, so Lirin had taken him out to be handed back to his nurse. Hubert was intoning a seemingly endless Gospel.
"... The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest. Go your ways: behold, I send you forth as lambs among wolves..."
_Close your eyes and don't react to this_ , Michaela sent to Rhysem, as they stood with hands clasped between them in the folds of her cloak, and Hubert's voice droned on and on. She wanted to bow her head, to retreat further into the hood of her cloak, but one could not incline one's head too far forward while wearing a crown.
_Rhysel had more news this morning_ , she went on, hoping her concentration would be taken for attention to the reading. _Joram and Tieg ran into Dimitri after they left us last night. They took him prisoner and_ — _did things to him. It wasn't only the great lords he was working for—but he serves our purposes now. Rhysel says he won't be useful for very long_ — _his conflicting loyalties are going to catch up with him, probably before you reach Eastmarch_ — _but meanwhile, don't be surprised if things happen_.
He had managed not to react as she passed the message, but he did dare a glance at her before averting his eyes again and pretending to be caught up in the service.
_What do you mean, if things happen?_
She squeezed his hand more tightly and swallowed.
_He was supposed to kill people. He still will. Except that Joram has changed some of the targets_.
_Who chose the original targets?_ Rhys Michael demanded.
_Miklos of Torenth, acting for Marek. That's all I know_.
He withdrew from her then. He still kept hold of her hand, but she sensed he had retreated to some intensely private place deep inside his mind where, at least for now, she was not welcome. He remained tightly shuttered until, at the offertory, he squeezed her hand, with a whisper bade her stay in her place, and went forward to remove his crown and lay it on the altar before the startled Archbishop Hubert.
"Your Grace, as I prepare to embark upon this journey, I offer up this endeavor to the greater glory of God and for the continued freedom of this kingdom from those who would usurp her sovereignty," he said quietly, hoping Hubert would not guess the double meaning in his words. "May Culliecairn be freed, and may God give us victory."
With that he retreated to the lowest altar step and knelt there for the remainder of the Mass, head humbly bowed over clasped hands. Later, he could not have said he exactly spent the time in prayer, but he certainly found much food for contemplation in the news Michaela had brought him. To his surprise, when the time came for Communion, Hubert gave him the Cup as well as the Host.
It was meant as an honor and sign of approval from Hubert, he knew, but for some reason he found it profoundly disturbing. It had nothing to do with religion. Drinking of the Sacred Blood brought more personal images of blood flashing through his mind—his own blood of the night before, shed by Joram and then by his own hand; the blood of friends slain on the day of the coup, six years before; Javan's bloodless body when they had brought it home, _his_ royal blood soaking a field Rhys Michael had never seen, by a river ford north of Valoret, where his slayers had cut him down untimely; and more blood on Rhys Michael's hands—a great deal of it—whether his own or that of others, he could not tell. At one point, the sensation of wetness was so intense that he even wiped his palms surreptitiously on his thighs. Then he had to clasp his hands again to keep from shaking.
Hubert must have taken his trembling for fervor, for after the Mass was concluded, with Michaela called to kneel beside him, he blessed Rhys Michael with a special benediction and put the crown back on his head, leaving them then for a final moment alone before they must make a public parting. Speaking briefly with Paulin afterward, while they waited for the king and queen to appear on the great hall steps, Hubert remarked that he thought it boded well for the expedition that the king voluntarily should offer up his crown upon the altar of God.
"It bespeaks a dedication I had not expected," Hubert said. "I am also forced to wonder whether receiving the Cup sparked some sort of religious conversion. Hitherto, I would have described the king's attitude toward religion as indifferent. Oh, he goes through the motions readily enough—but you know what I mean."
Paulin was noncommittal, but assured Hubert of his ongoing concern for the king's spiritual welfare—so long as that did not compromise the great lords' intentions for Gwynedd.
"A tame king is an altogether useful thing," Paulin said, "but this particular one occasionally shows disturbing flashes of independence. I begin to think that he may well become expendable, once the new heir is born."
"Has something happened to make you more wary?" Hubert asked.
Paulin shook his head. "Nothing specific that I can point out to you. But guard the young prince well, Hubert, and pray that his mother is granted safe delivery of another healthy son. I do not trust his father. I shall have Dimitri keep a close watch on him."
CHAPTER NINE
Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.
—Micah 7:8
Rhys Michael had not expected even the ragged cheer that went up as he and Michaela came out onto the great hall steps. The castle yard was packed with rows of bright-clad men on horses, from heavy cavalry and lancers to mounted archers and scouts—but no infantry, for the great lords had decided that men on foot would slow the army's pace too much. For like reason, only a modest baggage train waited outside the open gates to accompany the campaign; provisioning and additional men would come from the estates through which they passed en route north.
The cheer receded into the general din as king and queen slowly descended the steps. Cathan was waiting to lay a thick woolen cloak around the king's shoulders—Haldane crimson, with the Haldane brooch to clasp it at the throat. Rhys Michael drew it gratefully around him, for a fine mist still hung on the air and a pewter-colored sky promised more rain to come. As Michaela fastened the clasp, Rhys Michael cast his gaze over the waiting men, trying to read their mood.
His commanders were waiting for him at the foot of the steps, mounted and ready. He had chosen none of them. Albertus, the earl marshal, had several of his _Custodes_ officers around him, and Rhun sat his horse beside Fulk Fitz-Arthur, who had the Haldane battle standard footed in his stirrup. Fulk's younger brother Quiric held the reins of the reliable grey destrier Rhys Michael was to ride, and other squires tended Cathan's bay and an ill-tempered roan that belonged to Earl Udaut, the castle's constable, who was consulting with Earl Tammaron off to one side.
Others of the great lords who would be going along were also gathered in the yard behind Albertus and Rhun: Hubert's brother Manfred, instructing the captain of a smart-looking contingent of lancers in Culdi livery; Richard Murdoch, husband to Michaela's Lady Lirin, with a company of archers in the colors of Carthane, perhaps a score of them.
Farther back, Paulin had joined a handful of black-clad men whose red-and-gold cinctures marked them as _Custodes Fidei_. Rhys Michael recognized a few of the faces, but he did not spot Dimitri—though he had no time to really look for him. Behind Paulin were ranged at least thirty black-clad _Custodes_ knights in their red-fringed white sashes. Other lesser lords also sat beneath their banners at the head of more modest contingents—Lord Ainslie, Richard's brother Cashel, and others Rhys Michael did not recognize. He guessed their total number at about a hundred, not counting servants and support personnel—not many, to defy a Torenthi prince and a bastard pretender. But several hundred more would join them as they passed close to Valoret and Caerrorie and Sheele, in addition to whatever men were already massing from Eastmarch and points north.
Quiet began settling on the company as old Archbishop Oriss tottered out onto the great hall steps in cope and mitre, supported by Hubert and leaning on his crozier, for as Archbishop of Rhemuth, it was he who had the honor of blessing the troops. Tammaron approached Rhys Michael, ready to summon him before Oriss, but the king was already removing his crown, giving it into Michaela's keeping. Owain's nurse had brought the boy back to rejoin his parents, bundled in a miniature scarlet cloak against the damp, and Rhys Michael bent to pick up the boy and kiss him.
He turned to face the archbishops then, kneeling with the boy in his arms. A hush fell over the assembled men as they realized he intended so to receive Oriss' benediction.
Into the settling silence came the rustle of pennoned lances being lowered in salute, the mounted archers saluting with their unstrung bows, cased in oilskin to keep away the damp. Helmeted heads bowed as Oriss lifted a palsied right hand, and the Haldane standard dipped.
" _Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus: Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus._ "
" _Amen_ ," Rhys Michael responded, with a hundred other voices, as he crossed himself in blessing, repeating the sign over his young son, then got slowly to his feet. Out of the silence behind him arose a cheer from a hundred throats, as lances again were lifted and bows were brandished. After kissing his son on both cheeks, Rhys Michael gave the boy back into his mother's care, then chastely took her hand and kissed it, meeting her eyes only briefly in final, wordless farewell.
Then he was turning to descend the steps, pulling on his gauntlets, and mounting up on the big grey stallion that Cathan now held for him. He dared not look back at the pair standing on the steps. Quiric handed up the open-faced helm circled by its coronet of gold, and as Rhys Michael settled it on his head, he became suddenly aware of the Haldane standard close by in Fulk's hand—and that only once before had he ridden under that banner in his own right, as king, on that murky and best-forgotten day of his coronation, with his brain dulled by the great lords' drugs and his heart still aching for his slain brother, who should have been king instead of him.
The old grief caught at his throat, and he longed to take the standard in his own hand, the way he often had seen Javan do, but he knew such an act of independence would only earn him a sharp dressing-down when they camped for the night—if Albertus could restrain himself from making a public reprimand for that long. Still, the banner that symbolized Gwynedd's sovereignty now was his to guard and defend, and now, at last, perhaps Rhys Michael would have a chance to assert the freedom for which Javan had died.
Not immediately, of course; but soon. At least in the field, a king might win by valor what caution and timidity had not been able to secure under the close confinement he had endured these six years. There was much to lose, not least of which was the grey-cloaked woman clutching the hand of a very small boy cloaked in crimson, the pair of them watching him from the great hall steps—but there was also much to win, including their freedom as well as his own.
Behind him, Cathan and Udaut were both mounting up, Udaut fighting his mount for a moment before he could force it ahead to join the eight castle guards detailed to escort the royal party as far as the city gates. Balanced between excitement and melancholy, Rhys Michael lifted a gauntleted hand in farewell to those waiting on the great hall steps, imprinting his final glimpse of them in memory, then turned his steed's head toward the castle gate to follow Albertus and Rhun, not looking back.
The cavalcade moved out at a smart pace, for the mist had turned to drizzle, and the horses were eager to be off. Several ranks ahead of him, Udaut's roan was still being fractious, even crow-hopping a few times until Udaut slugged it hard in the neck and forced its obedience. Fulk commented airily that had the animal been his, he would have put the horse down long ago, or at least turned him out to stud. Cathan avowed that this would only perpetuate a bad bloodline.
Leaving the two to debate the issue, Rhys Michael gigged his own mount a few paces ahead of them, then settled in half a length before, happily putting Udaut and his misbegotten horse out of mind. Despite the desperate prospects he might face in the days to come, he already felt freer. He had ridden regularly for years, to keep fit, but not in all that time had he been allowed more than a few leagues from the city. Despite the rain, cheering crowds lined the streets, cheering for _him_ , the way they had done in the old days even before Javan, when Alroy had been king.
He was rejoicing in his growing freedom as they approached the city gates, beginning to relax a little, refusing to think too much about what might lie ahead in Eastmarch—for that was nearly a week away. He had even begun tentatively casting about with his powers to start getting a feel for what he might perceive with them, somehow knowing that the crowd was large enough to hide him, if some other Deryni chanced to catch a psychic glimpse of a probe.
Afterward, he realized that the odd shimmer around Udaut's stallion should have warned him; he had thought it a fluke of errant sunbeam on raindrops at the time. But when it first began, he doubted anyone had considered the animal's behavior that surprising. The big roan had an evil reputation and had been acting up from the moment its groom led it into the yard.
Now, spooking at God knew what, the animal suddenly exploded in a screaming, spine-wrenching series of bucks that hurled the startled Udaut over its shoulder to slam into one of the gate pylons with bone-breaking force. Apparently not satisfied with merely ridding itself of its rider, the squealing beast then proceeded to trample the unfortunate Udaut and several screaming bystanders who could not retreat fast enough, biting and kicking in a killing frenzy, until a crusty guardsman with more courage than good sense managed to force his own mount close enough to fling himself across, wrench the stallion's head around by an ear, and cut its throat.
The animal screamed once more and collapsed. Blood sprayed wide in its death-throes, spattering onlookers and running red on the rain-slick cobblestones, and the guard sustained a bone-bruising kick before the thrashing subsided. The sharp smell of the blood sent several more horses into momentary fits of nervous jigging and snorting until their riders could regain control; but by the time anyone could get near the now motionless Udaut, nothing could be done.
Rhun and Cathan were the first to reach the constable's side besides the now limping guardsman, but Cathan's grim glance back told of the futility of it, even as Rhys Michael calmed his own wild-eyed steed. Around Udaut, his men were moving the crowd back with practiced ease, making room for Albertus to dismount and run to Udaut's side as Paulin and a grey-haired battle surgeon called Stevanus began pushing their way forward from behind the king.
"Let the surgeon through!" Paulin ordered, as Stevanus elbowed his way past several more riders and dashed ahead to crouch beside the victim.
But Stevanus' brisk examination could only confirm that death had been a mercy for Rhemuth's hapless constable, for Udaut's back was broken, one arm was mangled almost beyond recognition, and one leg lay twisted under him at a sickening angle. The head was mostly unmarked, other than for a small trickle of blood that ran from the gaping mouth. The staring eyes looked almost more surprised than pained. Paulin caught up with his surgeon as Stevanus was closing the dead man's eyes and crossed himself with every evidence of genuine sorrow as the battle surgeon gently straightened out the twisted leg, then moved on to see to the injured spectators.
"I've never seen a horse go berserk like that," Paulin muttered, almost a little awed.
"I have," Albertus said, going back to prod the stallion's steaming carcass with a booted toe. "Never quite like this, though."
As he bent down to begin uncinching the animal's saddle, motioning one of the guardsmen to help him, Paulin remembered himself and crouched down beside the dead man's head to trace the sign of the Cross on his forehead. Cathan had come back to stand beside Rhys Michael's grey, catching hold of the reins and stroking the animal's neck to gentle it, and though they pretended attention to Paulin's prayers, both watched surreptitiously as Albertus pulled the saddle free.
" _In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti_ ," Paulin murmured. " _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei._ "
" _Offerentes earn in conspectu Altissimi_ ," came scattered responses from around him, though most everyone else within sight was watching Albertus curiously. The earl marshal was running his hands along the sheepskin lining of the saddle, sniffing at his fingers, his assistant removing the stallion's bridle to inspect the bit, shaking his head, mystified.
" _Kyrie, eleison_ ," Paulin intoned.
" _Kyrie, eleison. Christe, eleison_ ," the response came.
As Albertus finally ran his hands across the sweat-matted hide on the stallion's back, tight-lipped as he, too, shook his head, Paulin again signed Udaut's forehead with the sign of the Cross.
" _Tibi, Domine, commendamus animam famuli tuae, Udauti, ut defunctus saeculo tibi vivat._ " To Thee, Lord, we commend the soul of this Thy servant, Udaut, that when he departs from this world he may live with Thee. By the grace of Thy merciful love, wash away the sins that in human frailty he has committed in the conduct of his life. "... _Per Christum, Dominum nostrum._ "
" _Amen_ ," came the murmured reply.
Paulin sighed then, and gestured for one of the guardsmen to cover the body with his cloak as he and the others got to their feet. As the man obeyed, a slight commotion from farther back in the now stalled cavalcade heralded the agitated approach of Richard Murdoch, who was married to Udaut's daughter. Recognizing the big roan sprawled with legs akimbo at Albertus' feet, and not immediately seeing Udaut, Richard hastily dismounted and started forward, concern writ large on his handsome face. Albertus now was inspecting the roan's bloodied hooves, using one of the quillons of his dagger to pick out the mud from around each vulnerable frog.
"It's too late, Richard," Rhun said, catching him by the shoulders to stay him. "His horse threw him and then he was trampled. He's there." He indicated the cloak-shrouded form with his chin. "There's nothing you can do."
Richard sagged against Rhun's hand for just an instant, catching up a moan, then pulled away, shaking his head slowly as he came to lift an edge of the cloak. Stevanus had seen him approaching and came to crouch beside him.
"I'm sorry, my lord," Stevanus said quietly. "I—believe he felt very little after the first impact. And had he survived, any one of his injuries would have left him a hopeless cripple."
Richard swallowed and let fall the edge of the cloak, then glanced back dully at Albertus, who was wiping his hands on the corner of his cloak.
"Do you know what caused it?" he said. "What were you looking for?"
Albertus shook his head and shrugged. "A burr, some trace of an irritant—I don't know. But there's nothing. It just—happened."
He came to stand awkwardly beside the younger man as another guardsman joined the first and, together, they wrapped the cloak more closely around the body and picked it up. One of the _Custodes_ clerics had brought up another horse, and the two laid the cloak-wrapped body across its saddle and began tying it in place.
"This, ah, does leave us with an awkward logistic problem," Albertus said to Paulin in a low voice, almost as if he hated even to mention it. "Rhemuth now has no constable."
"Well, we can't delay our departure, and we can't leave Rhemuth undefended," Rhun said.
His gaze flicked appraisingly to the still dazed-looking Richard, then back at Albertus and Paulin, both of whom gave slight nods of assent. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Rhys Michael realized what they were about to do.
"So I suppose it's fitting that we appoint a new constable and get on with things," Rhun went on quietly, setting a hand on Richard's forearm, which made the younger man look up with a start. "Do you think you're ready for this, Richard? It isn't a hasty offer. We've been watching you for some time—since your own father's death, in fact. We need someone loyal and reliable to hold Rhemuth in our absence and to guard the safety of the queen and the king's heir. Also," he added, in a milder tone, "your wife will need you to help bury her father. We could hardly ask you to come with us as planned, under the circumstances. If you wish, I'll take personal command of your archers."
Richard swallowed, then nodded tentatively. "Yes, I—thank you. You do me great honor. I shall try to prove worthy of your trust. But—dear God, what am I going to say to Lirin?"
Gravely Paulin came to lay a sympathetic arm around Richard's shoulders. "I am so sorry, Richard. If it will give your dear wife comfort, remind her that her father will have gone straight to Heaven. He came from Holy Communion not an hour ago."
As Richard gave a choked nod, turning to take the reins of his horse and remount, Rhys Michael thought the remark might have been one of the more hypocritical ones he had ever heard. Nor had he even been consulted about Udaut's replacement—not that they had ever consulted him before.
Cathan must have sensed his resentment, or at least shared it, for he cast the king a wry glance before catching up his bay and remounting. Watching him, Rhys Michael paid scant attention to the mounted _Custodes_ man who was leading up Paulin's mount and the dun gelding that Master Stevanus rode. But as the two came back to claim their steeds, Rhys Michael could not miss recognizing the man. Dressed like Stevanus in the red and black tunic of a battle surgeon, the dark, slightly built man with downcast eyes looked like any of a number of others riding among the _Custodes Fidei_ , but the king had no doubt that it was Dimitri. He had not expected that the Deryni would be riding so close.
The little man apparently sensed the royal scrutiny, for when he had handed over his charges, he turned slightly in the saddle, made what might have been a slight bow in the king's direction, then turned deliberately to go back to his place.
In that instant, Rhys Michael knew that the first "thing" had happened through Dimitri's instigation. It had looked entirely like an accident, and he could not regret the death of Udaut, who had turned on him so traitorously the day of the coup. But to replace Udaut with Richard Murdoch, whose betrayal had been at least as treacherous—
Then he saw the logic of the move, which surely had been orchestrated by Joram. If anything, Richard was an even less acceptable constable than Udaut, but appointing him to that post just now would keep him from accompanying the army to Eastmarch. And that meant one less powerful enemy for Rhys Michael to worry about in his immediate vicinity.
"My condolences to your lady," the king murmured, as a tight-jawed Richard took his leave of Albertus and Rhun and passed nearby, starting to lead the squires back toward the castle with their grim burden.
As the cavalcade began to move out again, Rhys Michael reflected that this was likely to prove an even more interesting journey than he had anticipated.
CHAPTER TEN
Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward.
—II John 1:8
In the days immediately following the king's departure for Eastmarch, Joram and his colleagues in sanctuary began setting in place such measures as might give their fledgling Haldane additional support when he reached his destination. From Joram's own agents in Torenth and the Forcinn came repeated opinions that Marek himself was not capable of a serious incursion into Gwynedd this season and that Miklos had fewer than three hundred men backing him. If the taking of Culliecairn was but a feint to draw the king out of Rhemuth, as it appeared to be, it was not to test his military strength.
Logic and the agents' past reliability suggested that their assessments were correct. Though a full-scale armed encounter seemed increasingly unlikely, when viewed in light of the reports, it was Bishop Niallan who pointed out that Miklos could have offered few greater provocations than to have the Festillic Pretender's heir christened on Gwynedd soil. That he had informed Gwynedd's king of his intentions in advance only served to reinforce suspicions that the true object of the exercise was to lure the king onto ground of Miklos' choosing where, presumably, he would have no protection from more subtle testing that Deryni might employ against an enemy.
Against that possibility, as well as to augment the physical force available to the king when he confronted the intruders, Ansel and Jesse quickly gathered a troop of nearly forty former Michaelines and other loyal men, some of them Deryni. Though none dared flaunt that lineage these days, many of the men had built themselves admirable reputations in the last decade for helping keep the peace in the borders and were somewhat known in Eastmarch as men to be trusted. With these men in the forefront, and Ansel and Jesse disguised among them—and Tieg riding as squire, for they must have a Healer among them—the troop set out for Lochalyn to offer their services to Sudrey of Eastmarch, who was herself of Deryni lineage.
Not that shared blood was any guarantee of a warm reception. Though Sudrey might have been born Deryni, distant kin both to Miklos and Marek, she had never been known to evidence the slightest hint of possessing any powers—whether because they were minuscule or because she simply declined to use them, out of respect for the human sensibilities of her husband and his people, no one knew. But the killing of her husband by forces under a prince of her own Deryni kindred could have done nothing to revive her Torenthi connections in any positive way. It was hoped she would turn a blind eye to the fact that some of the benefactors come to help avenge her husband's death might be Deryni like herself.
In fact, the composition of Ansel's band never became an issue, for he and Jesse were able to present themselves and their men to one of Sudrey's captains, who was happy to accept the offer of an extra forty mounted men with no questions asked Casual inquiry around the camp that night disclosed that with the slain Earl Hrorik now in his grave, the Lady Sudrey had called her husband's captains to her and personally taken there vows of allegiance, never mind that Corban, her daughter's husband, now was technically Earl of Eastmarch.
Nor was she solely dependent upon the men remaining from her husband's disastrous foray up to Culliecairn, where Miklos' forces showed no signs of withdrawing. Hrorik's nephew, the twenty-year-old Duke Graham of Claibourne, had rushed to her assistance as soon as he heard the news, with two hundred men now encamped round about Castle Lochalyn. Sighere, Hrorik's brother, had brought another hundred from Marley to add to the scores who were continuing to pour in from the farther reaches of Eastmarch itself. Rumor had it that the king was bringing another two to three hundred and would arrive within a few days—news brought by fast messengers from along the line of the king's march, not by magic.
In Rhemuth, meanwhile, Queen Michaela could gain little news of what went on beyond the walls of the royal apartments. The sparse reports she had from Rhysel from time to time assured her of Joram's ongoing efforts to place agents among the forces massing in Eastmarch; but as she had no real knowledge of military thinking and what was appropriate preparation for war, such reports meant little. She received the odd, brief letter from the king as he made his way north and east by stages, but she knew the letters were read before they left his encampments, and again before being placed in her hands. Accordingly, the letters spoke only of missing her and Owain and concerns for her health and that of the child she carried.
Nor did her domestic situation alter much, other than to accommodate the brief upheaval of Court routine caused by Udaut's death. Because it was expected, she made herself put on mourning and attend Udaut's semi-state funeral in Saint Hilary's Basilica, at the foot of the castle, but she hardened her heart to the prayers offered for the dead man's repose. Let God forgive the man who had been part of the conspiracy that murdered King Javan and put her husband on the throne; she would not. Kindness toward the grieving Lirin came more easily, for she well remembered grieving her own father, and she readily granted Udaut's only daughter leave from royal service to mourn.
Other than this brief deviation from normal court routine, the days that followed passed with little variation, each one much like the one before. Especially with the king absent, Michaela chafed increasingly under the emptiness of the life imposed on a captive queen. Only at day's end did joy touch her heart, when a bathed and fed but inevitably sleepy little Prince Owain was brought by his nurse for an all too brief visit.
But never in private. The nurse had orders to remain always in attendance, and usually at least a few of her ladies-in-waiting also remained. Nor were visits to the nursery permitted, being thought disruptive to the young prince's routine. Even discussion of her unhappiness with the situation could result in the loss of any visiting privileges at all.
Thus denied even the pretense of mothering her child, Michaela was expected to join her ladies in "suitable" pastimes during the remainder of the daylight hours—listening to one or another of them read or sing, plying her hand at needlework, which she was growing to detest, and pretending to find diversion in the idle gossip that passed for intellectual stimulation in this stifling environment. Occasionally, when the weather was fine, she was allowed to escape to the gardens for an hour's stroll, for walking was deemed beneficial for an expectant mother, but usually the incessant chatter followed her even there.
At least one of her ladies must accompany her to Mass, as well—though at least they must keep silent during the service. With concentration, Michaela could use the murmur of the Latin to foster an illusion of silence, provided she put from mind that most of the celebrants were priests of the detested _Custodes Fidei_ —and if not a _Custodes_ man, Hubert himself was apt to be presiding. Michaela had no idea whether she derived any spiritual benefit from so shifting the focus of the Mass, using the silence to dream dire fates for her oppressors, but at least it offered respite from mindless chatter; and in that semi-privacy, when she did turn her thoughts to prayers for Rhysem's safety and deliverance, she sometimes thought she caught a glimmer of what might have driven Javan to seek out refuge in the monastery, when it was he who was plotting how to free Gwynedd's crown.
Rhysel was able to provide more active encouragement in this regard. Though her place as maid within the royal household did not permit her unlimited access to the queen, at least it was regular, morning and night. The queen's increasing propensity for afternoon naps gave added excuse for Rhysel to be much about the royal apartments, there to take down the queen's hair and brush it after lunch, in preparation for the royal nap, and then to arrange it again for the evening, especially if the queen was expected to preside at table in the great hall.
Michaela came to treasure the time when Rhysel was working on her hair, for the physical contact permitted the two of them to hold silent converse under the very noses of Estellan and the others who vied for the honor of serving in the queen's entourage. In more private moments, when Rhysel helped the queen retire for her naps, occasional instruction could be imparted in further refinement of such powers as she had.
"We must be very, very careful in this," Rhysel whispered, one afternoon when the other ladies all happened to be out of the room momentarily. "I know this is heady business, but just remember that if we're ever discovered, it can mean both our deaths."
Michaela tossed her tawny mane. "Do you think I haven't been living with that threat for the last six years?" she said. "Not yours, of course, but Rhysem and I have always been that close to the edge."
As she indicated a hair's breadth between thumb and forefinger, Rhysel nodded.
"I know that, and you're both incredibly brave. Just remember that even Deryni are vulnerable. You can't help anyone if you're dead."
Lady Estellan returned at that with a cup of cool wine, ending their verbal exchange, but the stark truth of Rhysel's warning tempered Michaela's enthusiasm thereafter, though at least this turn of events had given her a new glimmering of hope.
En route to Eastmarch, meanwhile, Rhys Michael was concerned with his own stark truths. Udaut's death had left a breath of uneasy speculation within the royal entourage that never really died down. Though not even Albertus could point to foul play, some whispered that such a freakish accident was a portent of ill luck to come. Cathan noted that the chaplains seemed to be doing a brisk business in confessions and the blessing of arms and steeds and holy medals, and at least for the first few days, Fulk reported that the men talked of little else around the campfires at night.
Rhys Michael's own observations tended to confirm the sense of ill ease. In the sparse leisure time that remained to the great lords between the end of each day's march and finally seeking out their beds—the ongoing chores of regular inspection of the men and dealing with the dispatches that caught up with them daily, both from behind and ahead of march—the king knew that Rhun and Manfred, at least, continued to expend a fair amount of time and energy rehashing the circumstances of Udaut's death. Dimitri seemed somewhat more in evidence than usual, but he never approached the king; fortunately for him, it did not seem to have occurred to his masters that he could have had any part in the death. Rhys Michael continued warily to test his powers as they rode along, but nothing occurred to necessitate even thinking about action that might uncloak his newfound abilities prematurely.
Thus did the first few days pass uneventfully, as the expedition sped north and eastward, skirting the southerly bank of the Eirian, overnighting under the stars or sometimes at establishments of the _Custodes Fidei_ , where the king and at least his great lords found proper lodging and the troops encamped in the fields round about. They made good time, and only one other incident marred their progress, again having to do with horses. What made it stand out particularly in Rhys Michael's mind was that it involved another of the great lords.
It had happened three days out, while they were riding along an embankment that skirted the Eirian. Albertus had been riding at the front with some of his _Custodes_ knights when a swarm of bees suddenly attacked the lead riders, stinging men and beasts and scattering that end of the march. Though both Albertus and his mount avoided being stung, one of his companion's efforts to escape sent him careening into Albertus' mount, and both animals went sliding and scrambling down the embankment and into fairly deep water.
Albertus managed to keep his seat, sputtering and swearing as he swam his horse toward shallower water, but his companion was not so fortunate. Still swatting at bees, the man flailed for balance but lost it as his horse scrambled for footing, dragged under by his armor and sinking from sight even as Albertus turned to try to aid him. By the time Albertus and others could find him and drag him out, he could not be revived.
This second freak accident of the campaign put a further damper on spirits as the column re-formed and continued on, the body of the dead _Custodes_ man tied across his horse's saddle for delivery to his brethren at the next _Custodes_ House they passed. Quickly supplied with a dry cloak by one of his squires, Albertus seemed shaken but none the worse for wear as he gigged his horse with his spurs and headed farther back along the line of march to bully stragglers, keeping a wary eye out for further swarms of bees, but the oddness of the incident was sufficient to make the king wonder whether Dimitri had attempted to strike again and gotten the wrong man. The accident was totally unlike the one that had claimed Udaut and would have been entirely plausible, had it been Albertus who drowned, but who could say? He certainly was not going to seek out Dimitri to ask.
They passed near Valoret later that day, pausing only long enough to dispatch two men to Ramos with the body of the drowned man and to pick up the troops promised by Hubert from the _Custodes Fidei_ garrison there: eighty _Custodes_ knights and men-at-arms under Lord Joshua Delacroix, Hubert's commander-general. They camped under the stars that night, but very near Rhun's seat at Sheele. When Rhun's levy of twenty knights joined them that evening, they were accompanied by his castellan, Sir Drogo de Palance, who brought several wagonloads of roasted meats, cheeses, fresh bread, and wine for the enjoyment of his lord, the king, and their staff.
A festive mood prevailed in the camp that night, at least among the officers, who were invited to dine in Rhun's command tent, but Rhys Michael was sober as he retired to write his daily letter to Michaela. He dared not voice his suspicions regarding Albertus' mishap, just as he had not dared to commit his suspicions about Udaut's death to writing, but he did relate the incident in as straightforward a manner as he could manage, in a tone that almost applauded the earl marshal's unfortunate luck—a reaction that would arouse no suspicion at all from those who read his correspondence before he sent it or Michaela received it. Perhaps Rhysel would be able to read between the lines and draw more discerning conclusions.
The growing royal cavalcade headed slightly easterly with the dawn, picking up Manfred's levy of fifty lancers at a rendezvous point near Ebor and passing well onto the plain of Iomaire, where they camped under the stars once again. Commanding Manfred's levies was his son Iver, the Earl of Kierney, who had gained his title by marrying well. Now in his thirties, Iver MacInnis had become his father's hand in the north, dividing his time between his wife's estates in Kierney and his father's lands in Culdi, for Iver would own both, once his father died. His addition to the growing royal party only underlined Rhys Michael's despair that he would never break free.
The last day but one saw them pressing north and east at speed across the vast heartland of Iomaire. They were more than two hundred strong by the time they encamped that evening in the fields around Saint Cassian's Abbey, another _Custodes_ House. As was customary, the king and his great lords and officers were given accommodations in the abbey guesthouse. Messengers were awaiting the king's arrival with new maps and dispatches from Lady Sudrey, who promised a full four hundred men when the royal forces joined them on the plain before the Coldoire Pass.
Following a quick perusal of the messages waiting, clerks were set to work drafting responses, and shortly the king and his officers went in to a frugal supper in the abbey refectory, hosted by the abbot and his obedientiaries. Attendance at Compline followed, obligatory in return for the hospitality shown, and thereafter, Rhys Michael retired to the single room assigned him and his aides at one end of the guesthouse.
The accommodations were as sparse as the meal. Two pallets had been added to the usual stark configuration of one narrow bed and a functional washstand with earthen pitcher, wooden bowl, and rough grey towels. Out of deference to the special needs a king might have for dealing with dispatches and the like, a round table and three mismatched chairs had been provided nearer the room's single high window, feebly lit by rushlights in a standing rack beside it. More general illumination came from several iron lanterns hung from metal hooks set into two of the walls. The place smelled faintly of sweet herbs and the new straw that had been strewn on the flag-stoned floor.
"We've slept in far worse," Fulk said good-naturedly, as he slung his saddlebags onto one of the pallets.
"Aye, and eaten far better," Cathan replied. "I can't say I envy the abbot his cook."
"Well, it was better than camp fare," Rhys Michael said.
It was early yet for sleeping, so the king sent Cathan for a bottle of wine while he and Fulk spread out the maps he had brought from their pre-supper briefing, intending to review the terrain of the Coldoire Pass and the fortress of Culliecairn, perched on its rocky crag. A knock at the door summoned Fulk to answer it, expecting Cathan, and he fell back in some dismay as Albertus swept into the room, followed by a second man bearing a torch to light their way.
"Sire, it's Lord Albertus," Fulk announced, though a pinched tone in his voice made Rhys Michael look around and then get slowly to his feet.
"My Lord Marshal," he murmured, his blood running cold, for Albertus' torch-bearer was none other than Dimitri.
Albertus made him a curt bow, hands clasped behind his back, hidden in his scarlet-faced black mantle.
"Your Highness. I wished to inquire whether you had any questions regarding the maps you took away with you. From some of your comments at supper, I was not altogether certain you approved of our plans."
The statement was a blatant lie. Rhys Michael knew it at once, without any benefit of Truth-Reading—which he dared not employ in Dimitri's presence, even though he knew the Deryni supposedly was neutralized. Affecting an expression of wide-eyed mystification, he gestured to one of the other chairs as he took his own seat.
"I can't imagine why you would think that," he said easily. "But please, be seated. Perhaps you would care to go over the plans again and question me on my understanding. I am the first to admit that my knowledge of strategy, alas, is totally theoretical. Pray, be seated, my lord."
"I prefer to stand, thank you," Albertus said coolly. "And do not presume to patronize me. Don't think I am not aware how you mouth the platitudes you know are expected of you, while secretly you plot to overturn the established order. Did you have anything to do with Udaut's death?"
The sudden question stunned him. Carefully setting both hands on the arms of his chair, Rhys Michael sat back and slowly shook his head. He was too new to his powers to know whether Dimitri was Truth-Reading him, but there could be no other reason for the Deryni agent's presence. This question he could answer without danger of being caught in a lie, but what about the next, and the next? Dimitri supposedly had been "neutralized," but what did that really mean? How far could he actually be trusted?
"Of course I had nothing to do with Udaut's death. Why would you even ask such a question?"
"Perhaps because there has always been rumor about the Haldanes," Albertus murmured. "Your father was friendly with Deryni and was said to have borrowed their magic from time to time, in the early days of his reign. Your brother Alroy was free of the taint, but Javan—well, we were never able to prove anything, but I have always had my suspicions. I would like to believe that we intervened in time to spare you such contamination, but recent events make me wonder."
"What recent events?" Rhys Michael said boldly. "Udaut's accident? Your own? I assure you, I had nothing to do with either. How could I? Ask _him_ , if you don't believe _me_."
He gestured toward the impassive Dimitri, taking a big risk if Dimitri had _not_ been neutralized. The Deryni's dark eyes caught the light of the torch in his hand and almost seemed to glow. Rhys Michael all but held his breath as Albertus glanced at Dimitri, who shrugged and shook his head—but whether from knowledge confirmed by Truth-Reading or a shift in his loyalties, Rhys Michael could not tell.
"He speaks the truth, my lord," Dimitri said quietly.
Albertus stared at him for a long moment, considering, glanced at the king, then took the torch from Dimitri's hand and turned partway toward the door, where Fulk was waiting nervously.
"Fulk, bar the door and then come and assist Master Dimitri. I should have had this done long ago."
"Sir Cathan will be returning any moment, my lord," Fulk said in a low voice, not moving. "If you intend what I think, and you wish to keep this private, you'd best wait until he's come back, or an alarm will be raised."
Fulk's logic was inescapable and wholly in keeping with his original obligation of loyalty to the great lords, but it was also a welcome delaying tactic. Quite clearly, Albertus had not sought permission of his fellows to do what he obviously intended, which was to have Dimitri probe him at last; but just as clearly, Rhys Michael himself could not raise the alarm, protesting _too_ much that he did not want to be probed, lest the ensuing commotion convince the other great lords that perhaps the king had good reasons of his own to avoid Dimitri's touch.
"Go and find Sir Cathan and bring him back here," Albertus said, jamming his torch into an empty wall cresset. "And say nothing of this to anyone."
Fulk gave a nod and turned to go, but before he could even get out the door, Cathan returned on his own, a dusty wine bottle tucked in the crook of one arm and several wooden cups balanced atop it. His cheery whistling ceased abruptly as Fulk drew him inside and he saw the king's visitors.
"Sir Cathan, you will remain there by the door and see that we are not interrupted," Albertus said, as Fulk relieved Cathan of his bottle and cups and set them on the floor. "Bar the door. Fulk, come and be ready to assist Master Dimitri."
"I won't be held!" Rhys Michael blurted, half coming to his feet as Fulk headed toward him.
Albertus whirled and stabbed a forefinger at the king. "Sit down!" Rhys Michael sat. "You will do what you are told. Whether or not you are physically restrained depends entirely upon your cooperation."
Rhys Michael swallowed and made himself take a deep breath, trying not to shake. He had almost let pride and bund panic stampede him into open defiance of Albertus, which would never be tolerated. Cathan was standing taut and anxious by the door, poised to move on command, but Rhys Michael shot him a restraining glance. He was going to have to allow Dimitri's touch. Whether that would prove his betrayal remained to be seen. He could only pray that the information he had received about the Deryni was correct.
"I didn't say I wouldn't cooperate," he murmured. He kept his eyes downcast as he clasped his hands in his lap, aware of Fulk moving in to stand behind his chair. "It wasn't my intention to defy you."
"I am very glad to hear that," Albertus said, raising a dark eyebrow. "May I take it, then, that you do not object to letting Master Dimitri resolve the question of your innocence, once and for all?"
"My objections obviously have no bearing," Rhys Michael said quietly. "I think that what you're proposing is extremely ill-advised, but I'll do what's required of me, as I've always done. I know my place, and I know my vulnerability. I don't have to _like_ some of the things I'm obliged to do, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to throw everything away in a childish show of pique."
A smile quirked at a corner of the earl marshal's long, cruel mouth, and he signaled Fulk back from the king's chair with a negligent wave.
"Gracefully spoken—Sire," he said, though disdain tinged the honorific title. "Sir Fulk, I doubt your services will be required. Master Dimitri, I would know whether our brash young king bears any traces of the kind of power you wield. You know the rumors concerning the Haldanes. I would have them confirmed or denied."
Rhys Michael drew a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes.
"Albertus, I beg you not to do this," he whispered, averting his gaze from the compulsion of Dimitri's dark eyes as the Deryni started to move toward him. "You know why he hasn't been permitted to touch me in all these years. What if he works his own mischief? Does Rhun know what you're doing?"
"That is not your concern," Albertus said, and gestured with a curt nod for Dimitri to proceed.
With a slight bow, Dimitri came to perch casually on the right-hand arm of Rhys Michael's chair, flexing his fingers once as he lifted them toward the king's head.
"It will be easier for both of us if you do not resist this, Sire," Dimitri murmured, as he laid his hands across Rhys Michael's eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Keep thee far from the man who hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
—Ecclesiasticus 9:13
"It will be easier for both of us if you do not resist this. Sire," Dimitri murmured.
At the same instant that his hands covered his subject's eyes, curving around the temples, more specific instruction came slamming against the edges of Rhys Michael's rigid shields.
_Give a human reaction, or I cannot help you, Haldane! Appear to lose consciousness. Read the truth of what I tell you. I am ordered to protect you, regardless of the cost to myself_.
Knowing it to be so, Rhys Michael did his best to convey the desired impression, eyes closing and taut limbs twitching as he made them relax, even allowing himself to slump forward so that the top of his head rested against Dimitri's chest—for it also shielded any telltale expressions from Albertus' view. He could feel the Deryni's hands slipping around to cradle the back of his head and the sly insinuation of the other's thoughts settling into a more stable link, and he focused his intent on a reply.
_How can you help me?_
_That remains to be seen. Albertus has been gathering his suspicions for some time, but something has persuaded him to demand this confrontation just now. I shall know what it was before he leaves this room. We have not time for extensive alterations to his memories, but if his suspicions hang upon only a few points, I may be able to make adjustments that will spare his life for now. I am ordered to kill him, but his death must not be traceable to you_.
So saying, Dimitri pushed Rhys Michael back into an upright position, though he kept a hand set on one shoulder so that his fingers remained curled around the back of the king's neck.
_Slowly begin to show signs of regaining consciousness_ , he sent. _Pretend still to be lightly controlled._
"Well?" Albertus demanded, moving closer as the king stirred and softly moaned, and Dimitri turned his head to glance at the earl marshal.
"I do not know what you expected me to find, my lord, but he is simply—a Haldane. He does not wear the yoke of his submission lightly, but surely you did not expect that he would."
"I know all that," Albertus muttered. "What about Udaut?"
"He was as surprised and mystified as you, my lord."
"Well, what about the bees?"
"Do you truly think he can command bees?"
"But the Haldanes _do_ have—can he Truth-Read?"
"Can a _human_ Truth-Read, my lord?" Dimitri asked, scorn touching his tone of voice.
"Don't provoke me, Deryni!" Albertus snapped. "His father knew how to do it, and so did Javan. Now, _there_ was a _human_ for you! Jesus Christ, _you_ were the one to confirm that someone had managed to tamper with Hubert's memory, and that Javan prob—"
Without warning, Dimitri seized Albertus' wrist and jerked him off balance, surging into the other's mind even as he released Rhys Michael, rising to guide the earl marshal's collapse as his knees buckled. Fulk had started forward in alarm, not certain what was happening, but Cathan was already hurtling across the room to wrestle him away from the king, taking him into control as Rhys Michael scrambled from his chair.
Meanwhile, Albertus swayed on his knees and then toppled onto his side, while Dimitri still maintained dogged contact. As the king crouched down beside the kneeling Dimitri, the Deryni was already forcing his mind deep into that of the unconscious Albertus, less and less mindful whether he ripped it as he searched out what he must know.
"It is as I feared," the Deryni murmured, as he withdrew enough to speak, the black eyes almost glowing as he glanced at Rhys Michael. "He suspects too much, and the threads run too deep. His life was already forfeit, but I had hoped for better cover for the deed. Still, _you_ will not be suspect."
"Wait!" Rhys Michael whispered. "What are you going to do?"
"Merely stop his heart. It will be an easier death than he gave most of his victims. Easier than your brother's death."
Chilled, Rhys Michael grabbed Dimitri's sleeve.
"Did _he_ kill my brother?"
"His was the direct order that permitted it. He watched him die. See for yourself, if you wish, but be brief."
Rhys Michael could not turn away from that invitation. Trembling, he laid his hand on the earl marshal's forehead and let Dimitri guide him to the specific memory that lay bare beneath their scrutiny. With a tiny mental wrench, he was _in_ Albertus' memory, reliving those final moments of treacherous battle lust on a killing field beside a river ford, when a king had fallen to well-planned treason by his own lords of state.
From Albertus' vantage point astride a great black brute of a battle charger, he saw a hail of arrows rain down on the red-clad figure farther across the field. Beyond the king, the Haldane standard faltered as the valiant Guiscard de Courcy went down at last. Though Javan himself appeared to escape unscathed, his horse went down with half a dozen wounds, bright blood blossoming against the animal's creamy coat.
Somehow the king managed to throw himself clear, landing on his feet. Bareheaded, he laid about him with the Haldane sword like a man possessed, but not so nimble afoot as he had been mounted. Sir Charlan, the king's favorite aide, tried to ride alongside and pull the king into the saddle behind him, but more of Albertus' _Custodes_ knights cut down that horse as well. King and aide fought together as a team then, and with Charlan now guarding the king's back and Javan himself maintaining a deadly net of steel before him, no one seemed able to breach their defenses—until more arrows began to find their marks.
"Take him!" Albertus screamed, thrusting his bloody sword toward the distant figure and trying to fight closer.
Another flight of arrows whispered off in the king's direction, and this time the king fell. The arrow he took in the chest probably was fatal, even if lesser wounds had not already delivered enough _merasha_ to kill him within minutes. Sir Charlan caught him as he fell, himself now wounded, and Albertus spurred his horse toward the spot where he had seen them go down, several of his _Custodes_ knights clearing a path.
It was all but accomplished. His sword running with the blood of good Haldane men, Albertus dismounted and strode exultantly through the carnage of dead and dying men. The wounded Charlan was cradling the dying king against his chest and weeping. In that sudden stillness amid the continuing battle around them, Albertus was not even certain they were aware of his presence.
Prolonging the moment served no purpose. As Albertus gazed down at them pitilessly, one of his men moved in behind Charlan with sword poised to finish the young knight. At Albertus' nod, the sword plunged downward to pierce Charlan through the lungs. Blood gushed from his mouth as he collapsed across the king with a mortal gasp, still trying to protect his prince, even in death. But Javan, too, was dead by the time they could shift Charlan's body aside...
_If you desire his life for this, take it_ , Dimitri's thought came. _You are his king. He killed your brother. You have the right_.
_Show me how!_
_I will do it, then. There is no time. Learn by observing, even_ — _so_.
Before Rhys Michael could object, the spell was welling up in Dimitri's mind, spilling over into Rhys Michael's consciousness but forbidding interference. He flinched from the power now uncoiling from reserves deep inside Dimitri, surging down a muscled arm as Dimitri lifted a cupped right hand above Albertus' chest. He could sense the energy filling Dimitri's palm, spreading out to his fingertips; and as that puissant hand turned toward Albertus, he could almost see a ghost-hand of fire plunge downward from the physical one to penetrate the earl marshal's chest, fiery fingers curving around the pulsing heart and squeezing.
Though unconscious, Albertus fought it. Pain contorted the angular face, and his body arched against it, one booted foot agitating the straw as his limbs went into spasms. He seemed to take a long time to die, though when Rhys Michael blinked himself back to normal consciousness, now shaking in after-reaction, he realized that the entire thing, both the killing and the Reading before it, had taken less than a minute.
"I will deal with this now," Dimitri said, glancing up at Cathan, who immediately brought Fulk closer. He reached up and touched Fulk's hand, closing his eyes briefly, then returned his attention to the still form before him.
"Sir Fulk, you had best summon another surgeon," he said quietly, beginning to loosen the neck of Albertus' garments and perform the other tasks one would expect of a physician. "He has suffered a seizure of some kind. I think it was his heart."
As Fulk raced off to obey, Cathan following as far as the doorway, Rhys Michael glanced at the Deryni.
"I know you had no choice in what you did, but I want to thank you," he said in a low voice.
Dimitri shrugged. "I have worked in the cause of my prince; you are struggling to retain your Haldane crown. I cannot resent you for that, and I hope you do not begrudge me my loyalty to _my_ prince. I thought I knew the risks I ran. I still do not comprehend how I was taken, or how I am compelled now to serve your interests above my own. But rest assured that I will not betray you, for I cannot. I will die before I allow you to come to harm."
The pounding of footsteps in the corridor outside forestalled any further discussion, and he set a hand urgently on Rhys Michael's sleeve.
_Stand up. You should not be seen kneeling here beside him or me. Remember that you are meant to fear Deryni. When you are questioned, keep your answers vague but tell as much of the truth as possible_ — _that Albertus brought me here to Truth-Read you regarding Udaut's death; that he bade me probe you as well, which you protested. You remember nothing of that experience, save that only a short time elapsed. Of Albertus' death, you know only that he appeared to suffer a seizure, and I tried to aid him. If pressed, wonder whether I might have had a hand in his death. Go now!_
The instructions were conveyed in the blink of an eye. The approaching footsteps still had not yet reached the door as Rhys Michael lurched to his feet and staggered far enough away to flatten himself against a wall, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He had to keep reminding himself that Dimitri was an enemy, only doing what he did because he had no choice. That did not alter the fact that the Deryni was about to sacrifice himself to divert suspicion from Rhys Michael.
Rhun was the first to arrive, closely followed by Paulin and Master Stevanus, but the second battle surgeon could do no more than Dimitri apparently had been able to do. Manfred brought the abbey's infirmarian as well, but by then the room was getting far too crowded. Paulin confessed himself too shaken to give his brother the Last Rites and had to summon another of his _Custodes_ priests to come and administer that Sacrament.
"How can this have happened?" Paulin murmured, trembling as Rhun drew him into the corridor, where the king and his aides had withdrawn with Manfred. "What was he even doing here, Sire?"
Affecting to be dazed and a little confused himself, Rhys Michael gestured vaguely toward the maps still spread on the table, aware that every word he uttered was likely to make Dimitri's death more certain.
"He—said something about wanting to make sure I understood the strategy planned for Culliecairn," he said. "I suppose he noticed that I brought the maps with me after supper."
"And then he just—collapsed?" Paulin asked, disbelief still mixed with shock.
Rhys Michael let his gaze go a little unfocused, hoping his questioners would read the reaction as uncertainty, something not quite right.
"I—can't quite remember clearly," he murmured. "We'd been talking, and suddenly he—was on the floor, going into convulsions of some kind. He clutched at his chest and—started gasping for breath. Dimitri tried to help him, but—"
"Why was Dimitri here?" Rhun demanded, picking up on the cue.
Rhys Michael swallowed audibly, all too aware how very vulnerable he was. "He—Lord Albertus wanted him to T-Truth-Read me."
"What about?"
"Udaut's death."
Manfred snorted and glanced back into the room, where a priest called Ascelin was bent over Albertus' body, signing the forehead with holy oil.
"He wouldn't let it go," he muttered. "He just didn't want to accept that Udaut's death was an accident."
"So, he had Dimitri Truth-Read you," Paulin said.
Rhys Michael nodded.
"And what else did he have Dimitri do?" Paulin suddenly looked at Rhys Michael in more avid speculation. "Dear God, he's been wanting to have Dimitri probe you for some time. Did he?"
Swallowing, Rhys Michael looked away, knowing that the truth—the only answer that would turn suspicion from himself—would probably seal Dimitri's fate.
"I—think so," he whispered.
"What do you mean, you _think_ so?" Rhun demanded. "Did he touch you?"
"I—don't—I can't—"
"He did, my lord," Fulk offered. "Only for a few seconds, but he definitely touched him."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly and swayed a little on his feet. He had hoped to avoid so direct an accusation, but Fulk had taken the decision out of his hands—perhaps on Dimitri's own orders, he suddenly realized. The Deryni had controlled Fulk briefly before sending him for help and must have set the instructions he knew were needed to carry out his own priority—that of protecting the king at whatever cost.
"Sweet _Jesu_ , Albertus, how could you be so _stupid_?" Paulin murmured, his gaze shifting disbelievingly to the still form of his brother. "On the eve of a confrontation with Torenth, you allow—nay, you _invite_ —a Torenthi Deryni to probe the king, with no way for us to check and see what he's done _besides_ probe—"
"What are you saying?" Rhys Michael whispered. "He can't have done more than that. It was only a few seconds, I'm sure. Wouldn't I know?"
"You weren't even sure he touched you," Rhun said coldly, keeping his voice very low. "We'll hope no serious harm was done in so short a time, but I suggest we try to find out before he realizes we're suspicious. It's even possible he had a hand in Albertus' death. Paulin, have a word with Master Stevanus, would you?"
His subtle gesture with the first two fingers of his right hand sent a chill up Rhys Michael's spine, for he knew Rhun was referring to a Deryni pricker, which would administer a debilitating dose of _merasha_. Though it was intended for Dimitri, not himself, the thought of helping deliver any Deryni to the great lords' ministrations made him almost physically ill.
Back in the deathroom, Dimitri was quietly conversing with Stevanus and the abbey's infirmarian, away from where Father Ascelin was reciting prayers over Albertus' body. As Paulin briefly diverted to kneel with the priest and join in a prayer for his brother, Rhun stepped into the doorway and raised a beckoning hand in Dimitri's direction.
"Master Dimitri, would you come over here, please?"
With a nod to Stevanus, Dimitri came to join Rhun and Manfred and the king, making them a deferential bow. "My lords, Sire."
"Tell me, Master Dimitri, why did Lord Albertus ask you to accompany him tonight?" Rhun asked.
Dimitri's glance flicked to Manfred, then to Rhys Michael, carefully neutral, but the brief thought that brushed the king's mind confirmed that Dimitri was prepared to play out what now appeared to be inevitable.
"Am I to speak freely before Lord Manfred, my lord?" Dimitri asked in a low voice.
"I would not have asked you in front of him if I did not expect you to speak in front of him," Rhun said sharply. "Why did Lord Albertus bring you here?"
"He wished me to be present while he questioned the king concerning Lord Udaut's death."
"To Truth-Read his answers?" Rhun asked.
"Yes, my lord."
"Why should that be necessary?" Manfred interjected. "Did Lord Albertus have any reason to suppose that the king knew something about Udaut's death?"
"Not to my knowledge, my lord."
"Very well," Rhun said. "And did you Truth-Read the king?"
"I did."
"With what result?"
"Why, the king was telling the truth, of course. How could it be otherwise? Lord Udaut's death was an accident."
"Was it?" Rhun asked.
Dimitri did not even blink. "I have said that the king had nothing to do with it, my lord. Why do you question me this way? Have I not served you faithfully these many years and never given you cause to doubt my word?"
"Perhaps we were led to overlook such cause," Paulin said, slipping back into the conversation beside the Deryni. "What else did you do to the king besides Truth-Read him, Dimitri? Did you perhaps probe him, as you've been wanting to do for some time? And what did you do to my brother?"
Dimitri had led the questioning in this direction. It was the only possible scenario that would satisfy the great lords' questioning and totally divert suspicion from the king, and Rhys Michael knew it—and knew that Dimitri knew it.
"To your _brother_?" Dimitri asked, scorn in his tone. "Surely your grief has made you mad."
"Dear God, did you kill him?" Paulin whispered, now convinced that he had stumbled onto the truth. "Brother Serafin died of 'heart failure' a few days before Javan's coronation, and we always wondered about that. You weren't around then, but there were other Deryni who were capable. That's one of the more insidious Deryni spells, isn't it? You can kill a man without even touching him. We'll never know if Udaut actually died of 'heart failure,' but you could have reached out with your mind and done that—and also made his horse go mad and trample him, to cover your tracks. Did you summon up that swarm of bees, too? Was it my brother who was meant to drown?"
Dimitri shook his head disdainfully, turning to Rhun in appeal. "My lord, I am given far more credit than I deserve. If such conjectures seem plausible to you, small wonder that your people fear mine. Regardless of what answers I may give you, I am damned merely for being what I am. For what good it will do, I remind you that my kind have limitations, just as all men do. Physical contact is almost always required. We—"
In that instant, at a nod from Paulin, Master Stevanus made physical contact with Dimitri via a Deryni pricker, jamming its double needles into the taut muscles at the base of the Deryni's neck. Dimitri gasped and clapped a hand to the pain, dislodging the device as he whirled in dismay to throw off the hands already trying to restrain him, but his eyes told Rhys Michael that the Deryni was well aware of his plight.
In the seconds remaining before the _merasha_ rendered him powerless, Dimitri might carry out one more order besides the very last—and over _that_ one, he had no control, for it must wait until the very end. Before the drug could begin to diffuse his powers, even as Rhun and Manfred were grabbing at his arms to take him prisoner, he turned the full strength of his magic on Paulin, twining his hands in a death-grip in the neck of the prelate's black robes to pull him closer and will invisible hands of fire to clutch not at Paulin's heart but at his mind.
Paulin screamed and kept on screaming, a bloodcurdling wail of mortal agony that rose on a higher and ever higher pitch, until Rhys Michael thought that vocal cords of mere human flesh could not sustain such a sound. Yet even that was but a poor reflection of the true anguish of a mind being ripped. Surely Cathan must have felt some of the spillover, but he and Fulk boldly dragged Rhys Michael back from the physical struggle to shield him with their bodies, lest Dimitri attempt some attack on the king.
And all the while, unaware of the true magnitude of Dimitri's attack, the others were wrenching at his arms and shouting conflicting orders, Manfred bellowing for them to kill him, Rhun screaming that, no, they must take him alive. Cringing behind Cathan and Fulk, helpless to prevent any of what was unfolding so rapidly, Rhys Michael sensed a faltering in the energies and guessed that the _merasha_ must be starting to erode Dimitri's control. Just then, Rhun managed to place a precise blow behind Dimitri's left ear with the pommel of his dagger.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Whereas thy servant worketh truly, entreat him not evil, nor the hireling that bestoweth himself wholly for thee.
—Ecclesiasticus 7:20
The flow of power ceased utterly as Dimitri crumpled like an ox felled with a poleax, arms trailing limply down Paulin's chest as he sagged to his knees and was dragged apart by ready hands.
But merely subduing Dimitri did not end Paulin's agony. Though his shrieking choked off in midscream, his body arched in a strangled convulsion, still flailing as it pitched to the floor.
"Stevanus, see to him!" Rhun shouted, as he and Manfred stripped the belt from Dimitri's own waist and began to lash his wrists together.
Stevanus was already scrambling to Paulin's side. The convulsions were weakening, but Paulin's eyes were vacant and staring. His rigid chest kept heaving with the effort to draw breath, but clearly no air was reaching his lungs.
"He's dying! He can't breathe!" Stevanus gasped, rolling Paulin onto his side and prying the rigid jaws apart.
In the corridor, Rhys Michael clung to the door frame and craned his neck to see what was happening. Blood gushed from Paulin's mouth as Stevanus thrust his fingers inside, apparently probing for whatever was obstructing the airway.
"Jesus, he's swallowed his tongue!" the king heard him gasp.
As Stevanus forced his fingers deeper to dislodge the obstruction, the abbey's infirmarian came creeping timidly from under the table where he had taken refuge. Together, the two of them quickly managed to get Paulin breathing again, albeit shallowly, but Paulin had bitten his tongue nearly through as he convulsed. The bloody lump of it lay in the blood-soaked straw beside his head as Stevanus cast his knife aside and shakily shifted a gory hand to the pulse point in his patient's neck. The infirmarian was pressing a wadded edge of his scapular to the stump of Paulin's tongue to staunch the bleeding, keeping the head turned so he would not choke on his own blood.
"Dear God," Rhys Michael murmured, slumping weakly against the door frame. He had not expected anything of this magnitude.
Meanwhile, Paulin's spine-chilling screams had brought men running from either end of the corridor, wide-eyed monks and soldiers with swords in their hands. Crowding anxiously around the doorway, trying to peer in, most hardly noticed how they jostled the shaken king and his aides, pressing them back into the room. The priest Ascelin was cowering in shock beside the body of Albertus, farther toward the shuttered window, and both Stevanus and his erstwhile assistant looked white-faced and shaken.
"Is he still alive?" Rhun demanded, glancing around from the still unconscious Dimitri as Manfred tightened a belt around their captive's ankles.
"Yes." Stevanus grimaced as Paulin's pulse fluttered beneath his bloody fingers.
"Jesus, where did all the blood come from?" Rhun said, rising to come closer.
"His tongue." Stevanus gestured toward the bit of bloody flesh in the straw. "Even if he survives whatever else Dimitri did to him, he'll never speak again."
"God in heaven," Rhun murmured. "Then, he may still die?"
"I don't know. Since I have no idea what the Deryni did to him, I can't even tell you which to hope for."
"Damn the Deryni and their powers!" Rhun said, uneasily glancing back at Dimitri. "I _told_ Paulin something like this would happen one of these days, if he insisted on continuing to use Deryni."
Brother Polidorus, the infirmarian, glanced toward Dimitri and fought down a shudder.
"'Tis black magic," he muttered. "Woe be unto all of us, if the Deryni has summoned evil spirits under this roof."
Rhun rolled his eyes heavenward, though he, too, darted another nervous glance back at Dimitri. Manfred had shifted nearer the Deryni's head, his dagger pressed to the upturned throat. He flinched at the monk's words and blanched even paler, his free hand fumbling at the open neck of his tunic until it could close around a substantial gold crucifix.
"Good God, you don't really think—"
"I think," Rhun said, "that Brother Polidorus ought to see about getting Father Paulin to the infirmary. Stevanus, I need you here with me. Let the priests deal with Paulin and make sure _he_ can't do anything when he comes around." As he prodded Dimitri's bound form roughly with a booted toe, he finally noticed the men crowded into the doorway behind the king and stabbed a forefinger at the soldiers in the front.
"You, you, and the two of you, come and help get Father Paulin to the infirmary. What are the rest of you gawking at? Go back to your quarters, all of you. Everything is under control."
As the four selected edged warily into the room, giving distance to the dark-clad form Manfred guarded, the others reluctantly began to disperse. Directed by Brother Polidorus, the four briskly lifted the unconscious Paulin onto their shoulders and carried him out. Stevanus was bending over Dimitri.
"Now, Fulk," Rhun went on, spotting Fulk beside the king and beckoning him nearer. "Inform the abbot what's happened, then fetch me Father Lior, Father Magan—and Gallard de Breffni. Tell Gallard to bring his tools. Go!"
As Fulk threw a salute and ducked out the door, Rhun turned next to Cathan.
"You, help Father Ascelin see about taking Lord Albertus' body to wherever the mortuary chapel is, then find Lord Joshua Delacroix and tell him what's happened. Tell him he's acting Grand Master of the _Custodes_ knights until the Order can make an official appointment of Albertus' replacement—or is there someone more senior, Stevanus?"
"No, he's suitable," the battle surgeon said. He had come away from Dimitri momentarily to wash the gore from his hands, over at the washstand beside the single bed.
"Right, then. Delacroix is acting Grand Master. Acting vicar-general, too, for that matter, unless it has to be a priest. You _Custodes_ will have to sort that out. Go, Cathan. Meanwhile, as Albertus' designated second-in-command, I take the office of earl marshal to myself and hereby assume command of this campaign—unless you want it back, Manfred. You were earl marshal before Albertus."
"And I resigned," Manfred said. "But I'll serve under you as vice-marshal, if you wish."
"Thank you. I'll welcome your experience. Now, let's get this Deryni secured before he regains consciousness. We've got a long night ahead of us, but I intend to break him before dawn."
Neither Rhun nor Manfred seemed to have any particular instructions for Rhys Michael, as they now proceeded to turn the room into an impromptu interrogation chamber. The king had no desire to stay and watch what was going to happen, but since they had commandeered his room, he really had nowhere else to go. Nor did he think he ought to go very far, at least until one of his aides returned. And the question remained of whether Dimitri would reveal anything that might endanger Rhys Michael, even though the Deryni had _claimed_ that he was ordered to protect him.
Apparently all but forgotten by the two, as men came and went to do Rhun's bidding, the king soon found himself eddied into a dim corner of the room where the torchlight did not really reach—which at least was a vantage point from which he might watch and not himself be noticed. Now, if he could just avoid doing anything that might shift attention back onto himself...
After a few minutes, _Custodes_ monks came to carry Albertus' body away. Soon after they had departed, Fulk returned with Father Lior, the _Custodes_ inquisitor-general, who was accompanied by a younger man in priest's garb and a greying, blondish man wearing the black jazerant and red-fringed white sash of a _Custodes_ knight.
As Fulk came over to join him, Rhys Michael found himself staring at the knight, squinting against the dimness and trying to recall where he had seen the man before. The context had not been good; he was sure of that. Not that he held any _Custodes_ knight in high regard.
"What's happened?" Lior demanded, as his companions came in and set down leather satchels on the table, the knight clearing the maps from it with a sweep of his arm.
At Rhun's direction, Manfred had stripped the bedclothes and thin mattress off the narrow bed and dragged it out from the wall. As he turned it upside down, Rhun said, "It appears the good Dimitri has turned on his masters. Or perhaps he's been serving different masters all along. He killed Albertus, and he's half killed Paulin. I want him broken. I want to know what he did to the king, and I want to know who he's been working for."
Lior was already crouching beside Dimitri, peering under an eyelid, then feeling at the pulse in the captive's neck. Kneeling on Dimitri's other side, Stevanus had a Deryni pricker in his hands again, nervously twisting the cap as he awaited further instructions.
"How much has he already had?" Lior asked.
"Just a single dose, Father. Rhun managed to tap him behind the ear before it could take effect, but I think he's going to need more when he comes around."
"Which is going to be soon," Lior said, wiping his hands on his thighs and glancing around behind him. "Gallard, let's get another of these beds in here. One is too narrow to be effective. Sir Fulk?" He summoned the aide with a beckoning gesture. "Come and help the surgeon strip him."
With Lior standing back to supervise, the men went about their preparations with an efficiency that spoke of ready acquaintance with what the inquisitor-general intended. Very shortly the abbot showed up with one of his subpriors and a _Custodes_ captain-general and briefly drew Rhun aside for an update on the situation. Watching from his shadowed corner, Rhys Michael tried not to think about the tortures they were preparing, glad he could not get a clear look at the instruments and vials the younger priest was taking from one of the leather satchels, laying them out in neat rows on the table.
Fulk and Stevanus had Dimitri stripped by the time the knight named Gallard dragged another wooden bedstead into the room, Manfred helping him upturn it beside the first and lash the inside legs together. Though Dimitri had served an enemy prince, Rhys Michael felt the gorge rise in his throat as he watched them shift the helpless Deryni onto this improvised bed of torture and begin tying him spread-eagled to the bedposts, stretching the flaccid limbs taut.
In that instant, as he watched the knight named Gallard securing one of the bonds, he suddenly remembered where he had seen the man before. He had never learned the man's name, and he had never again seen the man at Court in the six years since, but certain it was that Gallard de Breffni had been the cold-eyed _Custodes_ knight at Hubert's side when the great lords turned on him in council and seized control of the castle, the same day that others of their number had treacherously slain an anointed king. It was Gallard who had murdered the loyal Sir Tomais d'Edergoll before his very eyes, Gallard who had dared to lay traitorous hands on Rhys Michael's own person when they marched him up to see Sir Sorle and the Healer Oriel slain, and to take Michaela into custody.
And that had been but an extension of earlier treason, for the man whose name he only tonight had learned also had been his principal keeper while, months before those other murders, he lay abducted by the great lords' agents. They had been _Custodes_ , all of them, though Rhys Michael had been induced to think them Ansel's men at the time—that it was Deryni who had turned against him and the great lords who had rescued him. And all the while, the great lords had been working toward that moment when Javan must be slain and Rhys Michael set in his place, but as a puppet king; and in his youthful arrogance and blindness, Rhys Michael had never even suspected until it was much, much too late.
Long-banked anger smouldered into flame. In this one man was embodied much of the treachery and betrayal of a lifetime, finally given name and form. Gallard de Breffni's life was forfeit in that instant, just as Albertus' had been. Rhys Michael Haldane was an anointed king, entitled to dispense justice. He had the right and the means to take de Breffni's life. Dimitri had shown him how. He could feel his newfound power starting to stir within him, tendrils of energy uncoiling down his arms as his hands clenched into fists and the spell began to take shape. Even from here, all he had to do was reach out and—
"Sit down and have a front-row seat, Sire," Rhun said in a low voice, suddenly beside Rhys Michael.
Taken totally by surprise, Rhys Michael started back violently and went into a crouch, one hand going instinctively to the dagger at his belt, even as he recognized Rhun's voice. He frantically pushed the power back down. In the concentration of his anger, he had not even noticed Rhun's approach.
Weak-kneed with relief, he made himself stay his hand and straighten up, trembling in after-reaction as he cast a shaken glance at Rhun. What had he been thinking? Tempting though it might be to slay de Breffni, to slay Rhun—to slay everyone in this room, for that matter—he knew he dared not.
Not with _merasha_ in so many hands. Not on the eve of a confrontation with a Deryni pretender. Not without a man to call his own, save Cathan, who was not even here.
"Good reflexes," Rhun commented, totally unaware how close he had come to death. "He must have given you a good scare. Here." He pulled the nearest chair closer and shoved it against the wall. "You're entitled. I suppose you're as anxious as we are, to find out whether he got into your mind. But don't worry; we'll break him. His days of playing both sides have just come to an end."
He did not wait to see whether the king sat, for Dimitri was starting to come around. A moan escaped the Deryni's lips as Manfred tightened down one of the wrist restraints, trailing off as the dark eyes opened and the bleary gaze slowly found focus. Pain was in that gaze, but also resignation. As Stevanus moved the standing rack of rushlights nearer his head, their sickly glow gave Dimitri's dark visage an oddly jaundiced pallor. The torchlight from the walls cast a paler, flickering light over his naked form and on the faces of the hard-eyed men looking down at him. The abbot, a round little man with beady eyes and not a hair on his head, crossed himself and drew back into the corridor with his two attendants.
"Dear, _dear_ Dimitri," Lior said softly. Flanked by the younger priest and Gallant de Breffni, he shook his head and made a soft _tsk_ ing sound with his tongue as he folded his arms across his chest. "I had so hoped never to meet you this way."
Just visible in one of his hands was the cap end of a Deryni pricker—an unusual one, cased in ebony and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. His knuckles showed white upon it as he gazed down at his captive, betraying his tension. Though sick anticipation churned in Rhys Michael's gut, he could not but watch. Every muscle taut, he made himself ease down on the edge of his chair as Fulk came to stand beside him.
"You have broken faith, Dimitri," Lior said more coldly. "In times past, you have _seemed_ to serve, but now I worry that deception drove you from the start. In asking myself what seeds of treachery you might have sown in _my_ mind, I have asked Father Magan to assist me tonight." He fingered the Deryni pricker as he glanced at the younger priest beside him. "You have never met him, so you cannot have tainted him with your foul magic. But rest assured that he knows how to deal with your kind."
Dimitri flicked a glance of utter disdain at both men, then turned his face away, his wrists testing at his bonds.
"No good, Deryni," Lior said sharply. "You have killed one of your masters and probably a second. Before you are paid in kind, as you surely knew must be your fate, we require information regarding your _other_ masters." He smiled without a trace of mirth. "Naturally, you will not wish to give us this information. Just as naturally, we must insist."
Dimitri closed his eyes briefly, a faint grimace twitching at the sensuous mouth as he swallowed with difficulty. Though he still seemed determined to put up a defiant front, Rhys Michael guessed that it was becoming more and more difficult, with the _merasha_ in his blood. Sweat sheened on the lean torso, and muscles corded in his outstretched arms and legs flexed as he continued to test at his bonds.
"A ridiculous game, isn't it?" Lior said. "You are required by your masters to resist unto death, and I am required by mine to press you as hard as I can, your mind addled by my drugs and your body pushed by most exquisite pain to the very brink of death, but not beyond—until you have told me what I want to know."
His expression hardened as his words seemed to have no effect on his prisoner.
"Very well. I know that we are not nearly to that point just yet. While Master Stevanus' sting denied you access to your powers, you still have most of your faculties of reason and the will to resist. Regrettably, Lord Rhun's method of rendering you senseless spared you from what I understand is a unique sensation, as the drug disrupted your control and stripped away access to your powers. Rest assured that such respite will not be granted again. I intend that you should experience the further erosion of your senses to the fullest."
So saying, Lior handed the Deryni pricker to Father Magan, who unscrewed the cap and carefully withdrew the twin needles embedded in its underside. A tawny drop of liquid quivered in the torchlight, suspended between the needles, as Magan raised an eyebrow and calmly bent closer to their captive's lean torso.
Expecting the usual quick jab of the needles, Rhys Michael stifled a gasp and nearly came to his feet as Magan instead touched the needles lightly to the shadowed hollow of Dimitri's navel. In the same instant, as the act registered, Dimitri groaned and threw himself against his bonds in a frenzy, trying to roll away, rocking the wooden bedsteads to which he was bound and nearly breaking free.
"Hold him!" Lior ordered, even as Manfred and Gallard were throwing their weight across the ends to keep him fast, and Rhun was pinning his shoulders back against the wooden slats.
Rhys Michael forced himself to sink back into his chair, though his own heart must be pounding nearly as wildly as Dimitri's was. He could see the hard muscles of the Deryni's belly rippling in spasm as he made another halfhearted attempt to twist free, but clearly the drug so oddly administered was having its effect. He was panting as he ceased struggling, his body now running with sweat, and his eyes were glazing, the pupils wide and dilated as Rhun roughly turned the face toward the rushlights.
"Is that a new way of administering _merasha_ , Lior?" he asked, as he released the captive's head and stepped back, looking at the inquisitor-general.
"Absorption of the drug through the skin is slower but steady," Lior said, drawing a deep breath and exhaling. "The umbilicus provides a handy receptacle, and the skin lining it is very thin. A somewhat limited method of delivery, but it has its uses. Father Magan discovered it. Obviously, it had not occurred to Dimitri." He glanced at the faintly twitching captive, whose eyes had closed.
"I know you're still conscious, Deryni," Lior said, in a slightly louder voice. "Nor need you bother to hope that your ordeal will be cut short by a miscalculation of the drug's dose. We know precisely how much _merasha_ a Deryni can tolerate before the dose becomes lethal, or even before sleep gives temporary respite.
"But before that comes the pain. Just as Father Magan is conversant with the drugs we can use to help break you, so Sir Gallard is well versed in the various methods of causing pain. Do not look for your other masters to save you from either."
Dimitri's other masters even then were debating the numerous possible reasons why their agent had not yet made contact. In the tower chamber at Culliecairn, Prince Miklos of Torenth was sitting on the edge of a narrow camp bed with his head in his hands. In a chair opposite sat Marek of Festil, wide-eyed and impatient-looking.
"But we know they're close," Marek said. "We've had conventional dispatches since they left Rhemuth. Besides the death of Udaut, there's been no hint that anything odd has happened—certainly nothing to indicate that Dimitri's been found out. Believe me, if a Deryni spy had been discovered in the bosom of the _Custodes Fidei_ , we would have heard."
"We _should_ have heard from _him_ ," Miklos said, raising his head. "I like it not. In more than six years of service, he has never been more than a few hours off, if a contact was prearranged. Given the uncertainties attendant upon forced march, I could understand a delay of a day or two. Privacy could be hard to come by. But the scouts predict arrival at Lochalyn tomorrow. That means they shall be _here_ the day after. And we have not the foggiest notion where we stand, what other key men he has been able to eliminate or subvert, what he has found out about the Haldane—"
"Then, let's go ahead and force the contact," Marek said. "If he's that close, it won't take that much more energy to initiate the contact, instead of just standing by to receive. It's late enough now that he's probably asleep. We'll go in tandem, with a human backup. If everything's all right, we can find out what we need to know. If he's captured, or he's turned, we can kill him. And of course, if he's dead, we'll know that, too."
Miklos, Prince of Torenth, rubbed his hands over his face, then nodded with a heavy sigh.
"Very well." He stood. "I shall go and fetch someone for backup. I don't wish to use one of my regular sources; this may kill whomever we use, if the power drain is too heavy."
With that he went out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Marek rose and paced the length of the room a few times, then went to the window and looked out over the valley below the castle.
Beyond the valley lay the Coldoire Pass; and between the pass and the castle, the watchfires of Miklos' Torenthi levies sparkled in the cool night air like jewels flung across a bolt of velvet. It was the gateway to Marek's kingdom, stolen from his parents by the father of the king riding to meet him out there in two days' time. It was close enough that he could almost smell it.
He turned as the door opened behind him and Miklos returned, now accompanied by a short, stocky guard wearing Miklos' livery.
"Sit there," Miklos said, pointing to the floor beside the narrow camp bed. "Lean your back against the bed."
The man obeyed the odd command without hesitation, obviously already controlled. Wearily Miklos went around to the other side of the bed and sat down, drawing a deep breath, then totally emptying his lungs before reclining and swinging his booted legs up onto the thin mattress.
As he briefly laid an arm over his eyes, Marek came to join him, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed from the guard and performing the same deep-breathing exercise that Miklos had done. After a moment Miklos raised his arm to tip the guard's curly head back against the bed, his hand briefly cupping over the eyes. Then he shifted it down to let his wrist lie against the man's shoulder, the V of his thumb and fingers lightly clasped around the man's throat.
"All right, he's ready," Miklos murmured, upturning his other arm along his side. "Whenever you are."
Marek had been disciplining his own trance already and linked in easily with the Torenthi prince, as he clasped his hand around the other's wrist. Marek was powerful and very well trained, perhaps the match of his older cousin, but this was Miklos' working, so he let himself take a subordinate role as Miklos wove the spell. In the background, he could feel the vibrant life-force of the guard pulsing in synch with the power Miklos was coiling to unleash, not even accessible to its owner but now set in potential and ready to be drawn upon.
Powerful and focused, their call went forth, fine-focused only to the mind of the agent they sought, sweeping a far smaller area and lesser distance than Dimitri had spanned, a week before, when last he communicated. It took some time to locate him, because his trace, when they finally picked it up, was odd.
_Merasha!_ came Miklos' stark pronouncement. _Someone has found him out!_
Bracing himself for even the secondhand taste of _merasha_ disruption, Miklos thrust the contact home, seeking no permission and needing none, for Dimitri's shields were in tatters, no impediment at all. Stark on the very surface of his mind lay drug-addled snatches of the event that had precipitated his undoing: Lord Albertus killed, as ordered, but under circumstances that inadvertently had betrayed Dimitri as well... and the despicable Paulin mind-ripped even as Dimitri succumbed to his captors' power.
Dimitri was not unconscious; indeed, he was in a great deal of pain. But not yet near the breaking point; not yet near the trigger Miklos had set against just such a contingency.
Yet something was wrong here—something about the trigger. To Miklos' consternation, other minds had been deep in Dimitri's. Alien traces showed like faintly wrong-colored threads against the subtle, complex pattern Miklos had laid down. He could not quite make out their source, but he could see glimpses of the work—and where at least a few of the threads seemed to lead.
_Trigger alterations_ , Miklos noted. _Let us see if we can discover who has done this. Could it possibly have been the Haldane...?_
He drove his probe closer toward the source of the alteration, himself causing pain; drawing heavily on his backup now, ignoring _his_ pain, starting to catch a glimpse, a glimmering—
In that instant, more powerful and more recent compulsions slammed into force, tripping the death-trigger that Miklos himself had set. Though aware what it would cost to delay the effect, Miklos locked Marek into the link and drove all their considerable power and all the last reserves of their backup into one final, desperate attempt to force the trigger back and keep the channel open just a little longer, relentlessly seeking explanation, _willing_ the linked mind to yield its information.
_Who? Tell me who!_
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rejoice not over thy greatest enemy being dead, but remember that we die all.
—Ecclesiasticus 8:7
Dimitri had yielded nothing to his interrogators, despite a diverse range of tortures applied to shrinking flesh over the space of several hours. Efficient and apparently unaffected by the pain he caused, the inventive Gallard de Breffni had presented nun with varied inducements calculated to push him to the very brink of what he thought he could bear and then beyond—though never to the point that he might escape into unconsciousness. Diverse stimulants kept him alert, periodically reviving sensations pushed to overload and countering the sedative effect of the _merasha_ , but these did nothing to ease the disruption of his mind and powers.
Nor could Dimitri choose either to surrender the information they demanded or to end his agony, for he had given that choice into another's hands when first he offered himself as Miklos' agent. Though the decision of when to activate a death-trigger usually was reserved to the subject, the protection of extremely sensitive information sometimes required that absolute levels be set, over which the subject no longer retained control. With Dimitri's own concurrence, Miklos had set the triggerpoint against an almost unimaginably high pain threshold; for the longer Dimitri could keep from breaking, against the worse coercion, the greater the chance his interrogators would doubt their findings, even if bits of the truth should manage to slip through.
But now new pain probed into the very depths of Dimitri's awareness, totally apart from what Gallard de Breffni was doing to his body. Vaguely he recognized the touch; weakly he strained to reach toward it—or at least toward the triggerpoint, to give him blessed release. As the probe drove ever deeper, either the pain or his yearning finally tripped the long-sought trigger. An instant of relief immediately gave way to a rainbow brightness erupting in his mind, obliterating all else, hurtling him toward oblivion at last.
Dimitri's bloodied torso suddenly arched in spasm, his breath catching in his throat and his whole body going rigid.
"What's happening?" Rhun demanded, as Stevanus laid an ear against the bloody, straining chest and Magan tried to get a look at the prisoner's pupils. The others were throwing themselves across arms and legs to restrain the convulsion. Rhys Michael had retreated as far as the corridor some time before, unable to bear the Deryni's screams and the stench of blood and urine and burnt flesh, but now he anxiously pressed back into the doorway with Cathan and Fulk. The abbot and his two attendants were watching with undisguised horror.
"We may have hit a death-trigger," Magan murmured, hunting in vain for a carotid pulse. "They can make themselves die, you know."
"Give him more _merasha_!" Lior ordered, fumbling to open his Deryni pricker. "If he's doing this himself, it may break his concentration."
"I don't want him killed yet!" Rhun barked.
"It won't kill him. He hasn't had that much. We're nowhere near a lethal dose."
"We're going to lose him if we don't do _something_ ," Magan said, snatching the Deryni pricker from Lior's hands and plunging it into Dimitri's neck.
Whether or not this new outrage was the cause, the fragile balance shifted enough in that instant to let Dimitri's death-trigger snap closed at last. His back arched once more, then relaxed utterly, his limbs going limp as the dark eyes rolled upward until all but the whites disappeared. The final breath sighed gently from between slack lips.
"He's dead," Stevanus whispered, hollow-eyed and grey as he lifted bloody hands from Dimitri's chest to stare at them in the torchlight.
Another was passing into death in a darkened tower room in Culliecairn. In the same instant that the death-trigger released Dimitri, Marek tumbled out of the disintegrating link with a gasp, hands clapped to his temples, and Miklos of Torenth lost the pulse in the throat of the man under his hand.
Unperturbed, Miklos shifted a portion of his focus to deal with the suddenly dwindling flow of backup energy, the while riding out the psychic backlash generated by Dimitri's death-trigger. That the backup was dying was regrettable but not unexpected, for no human could have survived the drain Miklos demanded, once he had determined to seek out the source of the alien threads. While a part of him sealed off the last of the aborted connection, Miklos relentlessly stripped out the final increments of energy the dying man could give, using it like oil to still the last reverberations of psychic storm. He only wished the effort had borne better fruit. Sending men to their deaths was a part of command, but he disliked sacrificing them for so little return.
Meanwhile, the infusion of energy was having the desired effect. With heart rate already slowing to more normal levels, Miklos laid an arm across his eyes and made himself run through the usual set of checklists employed by Deryni after an arduous working. Remaining in another's mind at the time a death-trigger tripped was never pleasant and often profoundly unsettling—far different from easing a soul's passing when death came more gently.
He felt groggy and a little light-headed as he opened his eyes, but at least he knew that a few hours' sleep would finish restoring him. Drawing a deep breath, he shifted his arm to glance aside at where Marek sat, head bowed in his hands and breathing a little shakily.
"Are you all right?"
Marek raised his head and took a deep breath before he turned his face to Miklos.
"I will be. What the devil did they do to Dimitri?"
"Physically? The sorts of things one might expect. He knew the risks."
"That isn't what I meant."
"I know. And I have no answer for you."
Sitting up, Miklos swung his feet to the floor next to Marek, pausing with hands set to the edges of the bed on either side before he pushed himself to his feet and staggered to the table and two chairs set under the window. Wood screeched against stone as he pulled out one of the chairs, and he had to catch his balance against its back before passing a hand over a rack of candles to produce light.
He sat down heavily, pulling a tray nearer to pour himself a cup of wine. He managed not to spill any, but he had to use both hands to lift the cup and drain it. While he drank, Marek came to join him, pouring a cup for himself, then refilling the other's.
"Who do _you_ think got to him?" Marek asked. "Was it the Haldane?"
Miklos shook his head, then took another quaff of his wine. "I cannot say. He should not be capable of such a thing, but if not he, then who? Camber's kin again? Dimitri had seen no evidence of Deryni infiltration at the Court in recent years, but remember that he has never been allowed direct contact with the Haldane himself."
"Who else might have done it, then?" Marek asked.
Shrugging, Miklos set his cup aside. "We know that some of those Deryni who had aided King Cinhil were still in evidence when Javan came to the throne, even though they dared not show their faces in Rhemuth. Paulin and Albertus even had their suspicions about Javan." He raised an eyebrow and shook his head almost regretfully. "I shall almost miss them, I think. They have done us many favors, over the years—they and their _Custodes Fidei_."
Marek suppressed a shiver, then took a deep draught of his wine. "I mistrust religious fanatics, no matter what the religion. I'm just as glad they're gone."
Miklos' pale gaze flicked away momentarily, even as memory shied from the echo of Paulin's anguish he had read from Dimitri. Paulin, at least, was _not_ gone; indeed, he might linger in a living death for many days or weeks or even months. He would know nothing more of pain, but that was small recompense for the unspeakable agony of having his mind ripped while still conscious. After such an experience, what mortal flesh could possibly ever register mere pain again?
"You don't look particularly pleased," Marek noted, breaking in on Miklos' distraction. "They stood in our way."
"So they did," Miklos said, recovering himself. "Still, they have served our purposes, though they knew it not. Not only did they rid us of Javan Haldane, who would have made you a formidable adversary, but now I begin to wonder about his replacement. Perhaps they did us no favor at all."
"What are you saying?"
"Only that we should not underestimate this son of Haldane," Miklos said quietly. "We have believed him to be a puppet in the hands of his great lords, these six years. We have assumed that he is not the man his brother Javan was shaping to be—or his father was."
"You think he has the Haldane power?"
Miklos shrugged. "I know not. But _someone_ exposed Dimitri. _Someone_ guessed his dual loyalties. You saw the traces of their work. I find it a curious coincidence that Dimitri should be unmasked on the very eve of this Haldane's first public venture in nearly six years."
When Marek did not speak, Miklos went on more tentatively.
"Perhaps we should consider whether this may not be a timely warning, a sign that we should draw back somewhat from our original plan and rethink our strategy until we have learned more of this Haldane. It is just possible that he may have come into the same powers his father wielded. If so, and if he reveals them, his own great lords may kill him—nay, _will_ kill him, if he has not supporters to protect him."
"That may take time."
"True enough. But time we have. What we do not have—what _you_ do not have—is a sufficiently secure succession, if we were to take him on now, and you should fall. This is further reason for waiting, for biding our time."
"I'm tired of waiting! We can take him now; I know we can."
"Perhaps. But perhaps not. Consider the risks. My sister Charts has given you a son and heir in whom the blood of Festil is rejoined to Torenth—a magnificent birthright!—but the child is yet young."
"He is strong!" Marek blurted. "He will make a noble king one day."
"He is an infant," Miklos said calmly. "Infants sometimes sicken and die, for no apparent reason. Do you truly wish to risk all just now, with but one puny princeling to carry on the line of Festil, if you should fall?"
Anger flared in Marek's dark eyes as he turned to look at his elder cousin, but then, after a taut pause, he shook his head.
"I thought not," Miklos said. "Nor do I."
"What is it you propose?" Marek asked, after another silence.
"Simply this," Miklos said. "We tread softly. Let us see how this Haldane is minded to respond to our challenge, besides bestirring himself to come to us. We must lure him to a face-to-face meeting. Perhaps the Lady Sudrey may be useful in this matter. I am stricken with remorse over the accidental killing of her husband and desire to make amends. I might even be induced to withdraw from Culliecairn without further loss of life, as a sign of my contrition."
"Pull out of Culliecairn?" Marek began indignantly.
"We shall _talk_ about pulling out of Culliecairn," Miklos amended. "If opportunity presents, and he does not display the defenses we fear, we can still try for the kill, but I think it best we devise several contingency plans. Perhaps the young prince your son has taken cold, and the christening must be postponed. That justification will speak to the Haldane, since he, too, is father of a young son. If he can be induced to bring Sudrey to the meeting, additional possibilities become feasible. _That_ situation has been maturing quite long enough."
Marek nodded, beginning to become caught up in his cousin's reasoning.
"But our ultimate aim must be to assess the Haldane's strength," Miklos went on. "Hence, we must be prepared to negotiate, to back down with at least some grace. Culliecairn was a convenient ruse to get the Haldane to show his face, but I think it is not worth the cost of a kingdom. There will be other days, other battles. If expediency requires, we have lost nothing by giving it back."
"I suppose not," Marek said sullenly. "I want him, though, Miklos. I want him dead. I want my father's throne back."
Miklos grinned and shook his blond head, looking suddenly years younger.
"And you shall have it, cousin—all of it, I promise you—but all in good time. For now, let us merely expect to lay more groundwork—and be ready, if fate should offer some unanticipated opportunity."
Elsewhere, other Deryni were reacting to the implications of Dimitri's passing. Assigned to monitor the death-trigger they had altered, Dom Queron Kinevan stirred groggily from trance and ran through a brief spell to settle his nerves, then turned his gaze to the crystal sphere suspended above the table in the Camberian Council chamber, using it as a focus to amplify his Call to Joram.
There could be no mistaking what he had picked up. They had kept no actual link established with Dimitri since returning him to Rhemuth with his new compulsions, but a constant watch had been set to scan for any major working he might attempt. Niallan had caught the ripples from Udaut's "accident," and Joram himself had intercepted the lesser ripples that should have resulted in Albertus' death. Thereafter, Dimitri apparently had been lying low—until a few hours ago.
Alerted by the deviant burst of energy that had killed Albertus and then the second that had ripped Paulin's mind, Queron had dipped briefly into Dimitri's _merasha_ disruption and then pulled back to a more bearable level to observe, well aware what the final outcome must be, with Dimitri having provoked sufficient mistrust to warrant dosing him with _merasha_.
Only after several hours of physical torture did Dimitri finally escape, released by the death-trigger that Miklos had set and Jesse had adjusted. The reverberations of Dimitri's suffering had been bad enough, especially for a Healer of Queron's sensitivity; but worse by far had been the intimation, shortly before Dimitri died, that Miklos himself somehow had forced a link while the torture was underway, his alarmed query adding to Dimitri's agony—until the death-trigger snapped shut. Queron's one consolation, aside from knowing that Dimitri now was beyond pain, was that he did not think Miklos had been able to identify the traces left behind, to know who had tampered with Dimitri since Miklos had set his initial imperatives.
"What's happened?" Joram's voice asked.
Bestirring himself, Queron turned around in his chair to glance back at the great, ceiling-high bronze doors that Joram was closing. By the light of the single candle burning in the center of the table, Joram looked almost spectral. Obviously rousted from sleep, he had paused only to draw on a mantle over his white nightshirt. His feet were bare; the silver-gilt hair was tousled, sticking up in back where he had slept on it oddly, and the eyes were darkly hollowed.
"You got here quickly," Queron observed.
"You did indicate that it was urgent."
Queron nodded. "Dimitri's dead. So is Albertus, and Paulin's mind-ripped. And Miklos forced a link through, just at the end. That's probably what snapped the death-trigger."
"Is the king safe?"
"He was when the link was severed. Dimitri did everything he could to protect him."
"You'd better give me all the details you have," Joram said, pulling one of the heavy chairs closer to Queron's and sitting.
Not waiting for further invitation, the Healer reached out to lay his hand on the one upturned on Joram's nearer chair arm, closing his eyes then and slipping into rapport with the ease of long practice. The requested information was conveyed within seconds, in a powerful and steady flow of psychic impression. As Queron dismantled the contact, Joram sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I find myself feeling sorry for Paulin," he said.
Queron turned his face toward the hanging crystal. "It isn't one of the more pleasant ways to go," he agreed.
"I suppose that's what's bothering me," Joram replied. "He _isn't_ really gone."
"Isn't he?" Queron said. "When a mind has been ripped the way Paulin's was, what's left? The body could keep on going for quite a while—but is the soul still there?"
"Are you equating soul with mind?" Joram said with a faint smile.
Queron shrugged, returning the smile. "It's a question I've long considered—and never answered." He sighed. "I wonder why Dimitri did it."
"What, attack Paulin? Paulin was on his hit list, just like Albertus."
"Yes, but why rip his mind? He could have stopped his heart, the way he did with Albertus. Mind-ripping is hardly subtle. He must have realized that such an act would only reinforce anti-Deryni feeling—regardless of who ends up on the throne."
Joram raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that ever crossed his mind. When every other power has been taken away from you, or is about to be, I suppose it makes a kind of sense to lash out with as much destruction as you can."
"Then, why just Paulin? Why not Rhun and Manfred, Stevanus? Why not the whole roomful?"
"The king, for one thing," Joram replied. "He was forbidden to harm Rhys Michael or Cathan. The more practical reason probably is that he couldn't be sure of having enough power long enough to wreak destruction on a larger scale. Better to accomplish one definite kill than to attempt several and accomplish none of them."
"I suppose you're right." Queron sighed and rubbed wearily at his eyes. "So, shall I contact Ansel and let him know what's happened, or do you want to do it?"
"I'll do it," Joram replied. "You've been through enough tonight. Send Rickart to relieve me, and then go to bed."
Even an hour later, the king had not yet been given leave to seek out his bed. As soon as Dimitri's body had been taken away, all the principals had been obliged to adjourn to the abbot's lodgings, there to endure the inevitable debriefing that the abbot required. Fortunately, any ambiguity in Rhys Michael's statements before the attack on Paulin seemed to have been lost in the drama of the attack itself, so no question of the king's willing involvement ever arose.
"I've never heard anyone scream like that," Stevanus murmured, still badly shaken as they huddled around the abbot's table and a servant poured wine.
Manfred shuddered, his hand again closing around the crucifix at his throat. "You would have thought demons were rending his soul," he whispered. "God help him."
The comment elicited a flurry of self-conscious signs of the Cross and an order for more light. As servants brought candles for the table and set several torches in wall cressets, Rhun steered the discussion in less hysterical directions.
"I think it's fair to conclude that Dimitri probably has been working for Miklos all along," he said, after he had given the abbot a more objective account of the attack on Paulin. "I can't tell you what made Paulin recruit him. Personally, I've never been comfortable with the idea of using Deryni, even when we had them bound by hostages, and I misliked this arrangement from the first time I heard about it. By then, it was too late. You _Custodes_ were convinced that Dimitri was reliable, and you'd come to depend on him."
"Father Paulin assured us—" Lior began.
"Yes, I know. So did Albertus." Rhun sighed and rubbed both hands across his face, then set both elbows on the table.
"All right, forget about what Dimitri may have done in the past," he said. "Let's consider what he's probably done recently and how that may affect us. Aside from any subtle influence he may have had on those with whom he had direct contact over the years, he'll have been reporting regularly to Miklos, almost certainly by means of a magical link of some kind. That means that Miklos knew precisely what had been said at Court when his herald came, long before the herald could return."
Gallard de Breffni pushed his cup away, a scowl creasing his blond brows. "Conventional spies could have done the same, sending messages by relays. Even so, it doesn't give Miklos any particular edge, just to know that we're on our way."
"Perhaps not. But what new orders did Dimitri receive, once he'd reported?"
"To begin killing off key figures in Gwynedd?" the abbot guessed. "You all seem fairly certain that this Udaut was not the victim of an accident."
"But, why would Miklos of Torenth want Udaut dead?" Stevanus asked. "It isn't as if Udaut was a brilliant commander whose loss would cripple our military strength. He wasn't even coming along on this venture."
"No, but I replaced him with Richard Murdoch," Rhun said, "so we lost _his_ services on this campaign. And now I feel certain that Albertus was meant to drown at that ford."
"Dimitri still got him," Manfred pointed out. "It just took a few more days. He got Paulin, too. I wouldn't necessarily regard those as crippling losses for the campaign—losing _you_ and Albertus would have been far worse—but the _Custodes_ have been badly damaged."
Abbot Kimball nodded dismally. "Father Paulin was our founder and a man of great faith. Replacing him will not be easy."
Thereafter, the discussion digressed to concerns mainly of interest to the _Custodes_ , though the hint of hysteria kept intruding. The king's part in all of it became less and less an issue, and he gradually concluded that he probably had gotten through the incident relatively unscathed. As Lior and Magan launched into a brief but heated philosophical debate on the relative wickedness of merely being Deryni, Rhys Michael found himself starting to drift off and even yawn. The abbot eventually noticed and spoke up as soon as a lull in the conversation allowed.
"I think we might allow the king to retire now," he said, himself covering a yawn. "Our remaining business mainly concerns the Order. Sir Gallard, perhaps you would be so good as to show his Highness and his aides to the guest chamber here in my lodgings. Sire, I doubted you would wish to return to the scene of tonight's—ah—unfortunate occurrence, so I took the liberty of having your things brought up."
Indeed, Rhys Michael had never intended to return to the room where two men had died and a third should have done, and was able to offer the abbot gracious thanks for the courtesy. The choice of escorts was unfortunate, but he firmly squelched his distaste and allowed Sir Gallard de Breffni to escort him and his aides out of the abbot's parlour and down a short corridor to a well-appointed chamber half again the size of the one they had vacated.
"They could have given us this room at the start," Fulk said, when the door had closed behind the retreating Gallard. "That other wasn't proper accommodation for a king."
"Just lead me to the nearest bed," Rhys Michael murmured. "As long as we aren't sleeping in a torture chamber, I don't really much care."
He let Cathan pull his boots and managed to stay on his feet long enough to get out of his riding leathers, but he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows.
Except that he dreamed, fitful and restless, for all that was left of the night. Vivid images of Dimitri's tortured body intermingled with others older but no less potent: Gallard de Breffni coldly running his sword into the gut of the astonished Sir Tomais, that day of the coup... and Sir Sorle and Master Oriel, cut down by arrows a while later...
And more arrows slamming into his brother's body... and Javan sinking back into the arms of the loyal Sir Charlan, who died at Albertus' order, as one of his _Custodes_ knights stabbed him in the back, and blood gushed from his mouth...
And blood pouring from Paulin's mouth as Stevanus probed deep with his fingers and pulled loose the tongue, bitten almost through... Stevanus' knife flashing as he finished the job, lest Paulin choke... and Paulin screaming, shrieking mindlessly, as Dimitri ripped his mind, and ripped...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I have seen the foolish taking root.
—Job 5:3
The dawn tolling of a single, deep-throated bell finally intruded enough to drag Rhys Michael from restless sleep. The cheerless cadence would have rendered further sleep impossible, even if memory of the previous night had not come tumbling back into consciousness.
He sat up with a start. At the foot of the bed, Cathan was laying out a clean tunic for him to put on before donning riding leathers and armor, himself already armed and dressed for departure.
"Lord Manfred has been asking for you," Cathan said, as Fulk brought in hot water and a basin and towels. "They're burying Albertus here, this morning, before we leave. Mass will be as soon as they can get everyone organized."
Groaning, Rhys Michael fell back on his pillows and rubbed at his eyes, then blearily rolled over and staggered to his feet, well aware that it was useless to hope for any reprieve.
"What's the word on Paulin?" he asked, as he padded over to the garderobe. "Did he make it through the night?"
"Well, he's still alive," Fulk's terse reply came. "Whether that's a blessing remains to be seen. We'll have to leave him here with the brothers, of course. He hasn't stirred, hasn't regained consciousness. Father Lior says it's by no means certain that he ever will."
Emerging from the garderobe, Rhys Michael stripped off his stale tunic of the day before and tossed it to Cathan on his way to the basin and pitcher. From what had spilled over during Dimitri's attack on Paulin, he suspected that, if anything, Lior was being overly optimistic. His newly acquired Haldane wisdom suggested that those few who survived mind-ripping on the scale he had witnessed the night before sometimes lingered for weeks or even months, but usually as little more than vegetables. He was not certain even Paulin deserved that—though after what had been done to Dimitri, he could not imagine that the scales were much out of balance. Death would be a mercy for Paulin, as it had been for the Deryni.
The funeral bell continued to toll as Rhys Michael quickly washed and dressed and his aides packed up the few personal items that had emerged from saddlebags for morning use. He questioned whether it was necessary to don armor until after they had heard Mass, but Fulk informed him that the new earl marshal wanted to be ready to ride out as soon as they had buried Albertus.
"They _are_ going to let us eat before we go, I hope," Rhys Michael said, letting them help him buckle on the red brigandine over his riding leathers.
"Only travel fare, in the saddle," Cathan replied. "We're already going to be several hours later riding out than was planned."
The king finished arming in silence, belting on the Haldane sword while Cathan knelt to adjust one of his spurs. He pulled on his cloak before following Cathan down the stairs and into the abbot's yard. Fulk brought up the rear, with the saddlebags slung over one shoulder. Waiting in the yard were Lord Joshua Delacroix and six _Custodes_ knights. The new acting Master of the _Custodes_ looked underslept and a trifle uneasy, which probably described the condition of just about everyone at Saint Cassian's this morning. Rhys Michael was certainly on edge.
"Be pleased to come with me, Sire," Lord Joshua said, snapping to brisk attention. "I have orders to escort the three of you to Lord Rhun."
Something in the tone made Rhys Michael wonder briefly whether some new suspicion had surfaced in Rhun's mind after they parted the night before—but then, courtly courtesies had never been a particular attribute of either the _Custodes_ or Rhun. That Cathan and Fulk were included in the bidding suggested that this probably was just a guard of honor to convey them to the abbey church, Rhun flexing his muscles as earl marshal. Still, Rhys Michael set his hand on the hilt of his sword as he gave Joshua a sparse nod of assent and fell in with him and his men, Cathan and Fulk flanking him a half a pace behind.
Passing through a narrow slype passageway, they emerged into bright sunshine and the not unexpected bustle of men and horses beginning to assemble in the open yard before the abbey church, which loomed grey and squat on their left. The tolling of the bell was louder here and damped the usual banter that would have accompanied mere preparations to be off. Alerted to the king's presence by his crimson brigandine amid all the black of his _Custodes_ escort, men gave way with grave deference, a pinch-faced squire coming immediately to relieve Fulk of the saddlebags. Many of them were heading up the steps and into the church, mostly _Custodes_ knights, but to the king's surprise, Lord Joshua continued to lead them straight across the yard.
"I thought we were going to Mass," Rhys Michael said, holding back a little. "Isn't that the church?"
"It is, Sire, but Lord Rhun desires you to join him in the infirmary first."
"To see Father Paulin?"
"So I would assume, sir."
Rhys Michael let himself relax just a little. Joshua Delacroix was a man of maddeningly few words, but it made sense that the king should be brought to pay a courtesy call on Paulin's sickroom, since the expedition would be riding out directly after Mass. Seeing the stricken vicar-general was not a duty Rhys Michael particularly relished, but he supposed it was the least he could do. Paulin was not likely to give him trouble ever again.
They crossed the remainder of the abbey yard without further exchange, accompanied only by the solemn tolling of the bell and the quiet milling of the gathering _Custodes_ men. Above the arched entrance gate to the cellarer's yard, which would admit them through the stores range to the inner cloister, he could see the dense black smoke of something burning in the yard beyond. They had come back this way the night before, from the refectory, and Rhys Michael assumed that the infirmary must he somewhere beyond. Because of the tolling of the bell, he could not hear the crackle of the flames as they passed under the arched gateway, but he caught a whiff of the smoke just as they emerged into the sunlight again.
He stopped dead, left hand clenching tightly around the pommel of the Haldane sword, abruptly thankful he had not yet broken his fast. Over near the yard's outer wall, the source of the greasy black smoke now became all too obvious. The sight sickened him, never mind that Dimitri would have been dead for hours by the time they chained him to the stake and lit the pyre. Kindling and bundles of fagots were mounded waist-high all around, well ablaze, and the body itself was engulfed in flames.
The _Custodes_ were responsible for this, without doubt, exacting the last measure of petty vengeance on an enemy now beyond their reach. Several were standing close by, prodding at the pyre with long poles to encourage the flames. Forcing down the gorge rising in his throat, for he knew this fate also was meted out to living men, Rhys Michael crossed himself and averted his eyes.
"They didn't have to do this," he muttered, well under his breath.
Ahead of him, Lord Joshua suddenly had realized that he no longer had an entourage and turned to glance back at the king. Seeing the king's expression, he returned immediately, hand set on the hilt of his sword.
"Please come along, Sire. They're waiting for you."
"Why are they doing this?" Rhys Michael demanded. As he gestured toward the pyre, Lord Joshua moved a little closer, reluctant to meet the royal gaze.
"Sire, they say he loosed black magic in the abbey last night," he murmured, keeping his voice low so that only Rhys Michael could hear. "The abbot feared contamination, if the body was not burned."
"That's superstitious nonsense," the king retorted. "The man was dead."
"Fortunate for him, Sire. If he'd survived his interrogation, he would have been burned alive."
"I thought spies were hanged, drawn, and quartered."
"Aye, sir, but burning is the penalty for sacrilege. The Deryni killed a professed Christian knight with magic and also used it to attack a mitred abbot. That gives the Order precedence in dealing with the crime."
It was useless to argue with the single-minded Joshua, who was only a tool. Biting back a number of highly satisfying retorts, none of which would endear him to his _Custodes_ keepers, the king glanced reluctantly at the fire again. Though the face was no longer recognizable, for which Rhys Michael was thankful, the limbs were starting to contract in the heat, moving eerily. With a shudder, he turned his back on the blaze.
"We were on our way to see Father Paulin, I believe," he said quietly.
With a smart salute, Lord Joshua turned to lead the way, taking them through the cellarer's stores and on into the cloister garth, along the south range, past kitchens and refectory and thence through another arcaded passage that led to the very steps of the infirmary hall. Still a little numbed by the scene in the cellarer's yard, the king paid no special note to the chanting he could hear as he entered and followed Lord Joshua down a long central corridor.
To his consternation, the scene in Paulin's sickroom was perhaps even more grotesque than what they had just witnessed. They had shed their escort knights at the door, but Cathan and Fulk were at his heels and nearly ran him down when, just at the open doorway, he stopped dead.
Because so many men were crowded inside, the room seemed far smaller than it actually was. Two beds occupied the center of the chamber, on the nearer of which lay the still, deathly pale form of Paulin. To the king's astonishment, Albertus' body lay on the other, decked out in the full ceremonial robes of his former office. Two monks with thuribles were censing the beds from either side, and six more were ranged along the side toward Albertus, chanting the responses to an antiphon being sung by the abbot. Aspergillum in hand, the abbot was punctuating his verses with sprinkles of holy water over the two beds.
" _Pax huic domui_..."
" _Et omnibus habitantibus in ea._ "
" _Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo, et mundabor_..."
" _Lavabis me, et super nivem dealababor._ "
" _Miserere me, Deus_..."
" _Secundum misericordiam tuam._ "
With incense smoke filling the room and the aural onslaught of chanting, Rhys Michael noticed only as afterthought that all the principals of the previous night's debacle also were present, kneeling hard against the wall toward the foot of the beds: the four _Custodes_ men who had conducted the interrogation—Lior, Magan, Stevanus, and Gallard—and Manfred and Rhun, nearest the door. Brother Polidorus, the infirmarian, was huddled against Paulin's bedside with his back to the king, mostly kneeling with his head jammed down over folded hands, but occasionally rising up to check his patient's pulse or peer hopefully under a slack eyelid.
" _Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domine_..."
" _Qui fecit caelum et terram._ "
" _Deus huic domui_..."
" _Et omnibus habitantibus in ea._ "
" _Exorcizo te, immunde spiritus_..."
Rhun noticed the king's arrival just as Rhys Michael started to whisper a horrified comment to Cathan and shot him a sharp look. The abbot had turned to sprinkle holy water on the kneeling observers, but as soon as he turned his chanting back in Paulin's direction, Rhun crossed himself and quietly rose to come over to the doorway, drawing the king and his aides a few steps outside the room.
"I do not wish to hear your opinion of what is being done here," he said very quietly, keeping his eyes on the abbot but with his voice directed to the king. "Please accept that Abbot Kimball and Father Lior believe it prudent and efficacious."
"Are they _exorcising_ Paulin and Albertus?" Rhys Michael whispered, incredulous.
"You will refrain from any comment or expression that might detract from the dignity of this occasion," Rhun murmured. "You heard Brother Polidorus' comment last night—wondering whether Dimitri's black magic had summoned evil spirits under this roof. They decided it was best to be safe, in case he did bring evil into the house."
"And that's why they're burning Dimitri's body," Rhys Michael said. "Just to be safe."
"To be safe, and to keep _us_ safe," Rhun murmured. "That is why you and your aides will also submit yourselves for exorcism before we go to Mass." Rhys Michael looked up at him in quick rebellion. "Defiance in this matter would be most unwise, Sire, regardless of whatever personal distaste you might feel. This gesture costs little and retains the goodwill of the _Custodes_. You might even derive some benefit. We still do not know what the Deryni might have done to _you_ , that you say you cannot remember."
All Rhys Michael's protests died in his throat. Dimitri had done nothing to him, of course—except to save his life—but if he hoped to maintain the illusion that something _might_ have happened, and thereby reinforce his own innocence, then submitting to the abbot's ministrations must be a part of that illusion.
"They've begun the individual exorcisms," Rhun murmured, touching his elbow. "Come in and kneel with me and Manfred. Cathan, Fulk—go on in."
All wide-eyed obedience now, Rhys Michael went where he was bidden, dutifully kneeling beside Manfred and bowing his head over folded hands as the abbot came to stand before Father Magan. He had already done Lior, who was closest to the wall.
" _Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicus nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut discedas ab hoc famulo Dei, Maganus_..." I exorcise you, every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father almighty, and in the name of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Judge, and in the strength of the Holy Spirit, that you may depart from this servant of God, Magan...
Rhys Michael had never seen an exorcism before, much less been the object of one. In common with most laymen, who rarely delved beyond the externals of their religion, his performance of the obligations expected of him usually came more from a sense of duty than from devotion. Merely dutiful practice of one's faith generally did not require attendance at the casting out of demons. Certainly, his outward religious fervor in no way approached that of his father or his brother Javan; and in that, Rhun had been entirely correct in assuming that he might view the present circumstances with scepticism.
" _Et hoc signum sanctae Crucis, quod nos fronti ejus damus, tu, maledicte diabole, numquam audeas violare_..."
Cautiously Rhys Michael dared a glance at Abbot Kimball, who was tracing a cross on Magan's forehead with holy oil, forbidding accursed devils to violate that sign. The king's sparse liturgical Latin was not good enough to follow all that the abbot was saying, but to his surprise, he thought he could sense the faint stirrings of power being raised—which was somewhat startling, because he had not thought that religious ritual could do that, at least not when performed by mere humans.
As for casting out evil with it, the only evil possibly present in this room resided in the hearts of some of its occupants and was not likely to yield to any ritual motivated by hatred and fear. He felt certain that whatever taint of evil might linger with Paulin or Albertus had nothing to do with having been touched by Deryni magic.
" _Per eundem Christum, Dominion nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et saeculum per ignem. Amen._ "
As Abbot Kimball moved on to Stevanus, the king could not deny that there was power in the words, even on the lips of a _Custodes_ abbot whose blind intolerance surely prevented any understanding of what he did. Lacking the keener focus a Deryni might have given it, the power was merely brooding sluggishly in the room, as random and diffused as the incense smoke drifting over the heads of the men being exorcised. It did no harm, but Rhys Michael wondered whether Kimball could have put it to effective use even if there _had_ been something evil in the room. Meanwhile, he would have found the present ritual almost ludicrous, were the abbot not so deadly serious in what he did.
Lest his misgivings show in his expression, Rhys Michael buried his face in his hands and affected to be moved by the ceremony, as Kimball moved on along the line of kneeling men and repeated his words, sprinkling each one with holy water, anointing each with oil. The ambient power level never rose above a certain level and never focused. Nor did anyone else in the room seem to be aware of it, even Cathan.
" _Exorcizo te, immunde spiritus... et decedas ab hoc famulo Dei, Rhys Michaelis_..."
He kept his head bowed as the abbot's words rolled over him, expecting to feel nothing, but he found that the focus of the anointing enabled him to draw a little of the random power to himself—very little, but enough that by the time the abbot moved on to minister to Fulk, he had managed to replenish at least a little of the energy depleted by last night's emotional workout and his lost sleep. He was considering the implications of this achievement as the abbot concluded the ritual with a general blessing.
"... _Per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum Filium Tuum: Qui Tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti Deus, per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen._ "
Immediately, the solemnity of the ceremony shifted to the bustle of the room clearing, the choir monks filing out, Lord Joshua's _Custodes_ knights entering to convey Albertus' body to the church. Pressing back against the wall with Cathan and Fulk, Rhys Michael did his best to stay out of the way, resolving to pay closer attention to religious ritual in the future. He had no idea whether the others or Paulin or the dead Albertus had benefited, but he had to admit that _he_ had derived something from it. He wondered whether power was raised every time and he simply had not noticed before.
He was feeling somewhat reassured as he fell into the procession to accompany the body back to the abbey church. They returned by a different route, along the east range of the cloister garth and into the church through a processional door in the south transept. He did not look toward the smoke still spiraling upward from the cellarer's yard.
Inside, he took the place reserved for him in choir and did what was expected of him, making all the appropriate responses and paying outward respect to the man laid before the altar, as he must.
But the prayers he offered up in his heart were for another, who went unshriven and unmourned to no grave at all, whose ashes would be scattered on the wind without ceremony or blessing when the flames died down.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
And that we may be delivered from unreasonable men.
—II Thessalonians 3:2
It was nearing noon by the time they rode out of Saint Cassian's, after laying Albertus to rest in the crypt beneath the abbey church. In the absence of any higher-ranking _Custodes_ priest, Father Lior had assumed leadership of the _Custodes_ religious accompanying the royal forces, with Sir Joshua commanding the _Custodes_ knights. Messengers had ridden out at dawn to notify the other _Custodes_ Houses of the incapacitation of their vicar-general, so that an election could be held in due course. Further dispatches went to Rhemuth, to inform Hubert and the remaining great lords there.
Meanwhile Rhun of Horthness took up his duties as the new Earl Marshal of Gwynedd, riding at the king's right hand and directly under the Haldane banner as the cavalcade headed north out of Saint Cassian's at a brisk clip. The pace allowed no leisure for conversation or even serious cogitation, but it was not sufficient to divert Rhys Michael from the rumblings in his stomach. The promised travel fare had turned out to be a chunk of bread and a few sips of ale snatched before mounting up in the abbey yard, though at least the bread was fresh, direct from the abbey's bakehouse. Fulk's saddlebag produced some dubious-looking cheese during a brief rest stop at midafternoon, but Rhys Michael was ravenous by the time they began meeting outriders from Lochalyn Castle.
They approached Lochalyn just as dusk began settling over the foothills. The castle itself glowed golden in the failing light, just catching the last rays of the setting sun. The camps of the investing troops were sprawled tidily all around the base of the bluff on which it perched, slowly coming alight with scattered campfires. As Rhys Michael rode through the outskirts with his officers, under the dour inspection of rough-looking men in border tweeds and leathers, the delectable aroma of food in preparation mingled with the more earthy smells of wood smoke and damp earth and horse manure.
An informal guard of honor rode out to meet the king and his party as they approached the castle gates, bearing torches and led by Sighere of Marley, brother of the slain Hrorik. There was more grey in Sighere's red beard than when Rhys Michael last had seen him, but that had been nearly seven years ago, at Javan's coronation. Rhys Michael had plucked a grey hair from his own head only a few months ago and had remarked to Michaela that he was surprised that all his hair had not turned white, if worry was a cause.
"Well met, King o' Gwynedd," Sighere called, as he and his companions drew rein before the royal standard. "I bid ye welcome, in the name o' Sudrey of Eastmarch an' Stacia, her daughter." He gestured toward the senior of the two men flanking him, a darkly handsome young man with a close-clipped black beard and kind eyes. "This is Corban Howell, m'niece's husband. We pray that ye will acknowledge him as Earl of Eastmarch, alongside our beloved Stacia. This young sprat wi' the outrageous moustaches is m'son, Sean Coris," he added, indicating the redheaded youth at his other knee with a proud jut of his chin and a twinkle in his dark eyes.
Rhys Michael suppressed a smile, for young Sean's moustaches _were_ impressive—as was the lad himself, sturdy as a young oak, though he could not be more than twenty.
"Lord Corban, Sir Sean," he acknowledged, and lifted a gloved hand toward Rhun, sitting beneath the Haldane banner at his right. "I believe the Earl of Marley will remember Lord Rhun, the Earl of Sheele," he went on carefully, for there was no love lost between Sighere and Rhun. "I am obliged to inform you that Lord Albertus has died, and Lord Rhun now serves as earl marshal."
"Albertus dead?" Sighere said, before the king could go on. "When? How?"
Rhun kneed his horse a few paces ahead. "I believe that would best be discussed in greater privacy, my lord," he said coolly. "Lord Manfred serves as my deputy, and Sir Joshua Delacroix has assumed interim command of the _Custodes Fidei_ forces. Perhaps you would be so good as to indicate the billeting arrangements, so our officers may see the men settled. We have ridden from as far as Saint Cassian's since noon, and men and horses are in need of rest and refreshment."
Watching and listening from the sidelines, swathed in border tweeds like most of the men around them, Ansel MacRorie and Jesse MacGregor exchanged glances, melting back from the cavalcade when the immediate royal party of about a score began to follow Sighere on toward the castle gates.
_Well, that confirms the news from Joram_ , Ansel sent to Jesse, as Corban and Sean joined Joshua and several of his captains to confer briefly, and the new arrivals began dispersing to their designated campsites.
Jesse's eyes narrowed as he watched a party of _Custodes_ clergy trot by, several of them following after the king and his officers.
_Interesting, how the command structure seems to have shifted_ , he responded. _Quite a shake-up in the_ Custodes, _that's for sure_.
Ansel glanced around, judged them sufficiently removed not to be overheard, and shifted to whispered speech.
"Not enough of a shake-up to suit me. That older priest who joined the royal party was Lior, the Inquisitor-General; I don't recognize the younger one. I think the battle surgeon with them was Stevanus—the one who patched up Rhys Michael after he was 'kidnapped,' six years ago."
"A thoroughly disreputable lot," Jesse agreed. "Methinks we shall have to make some discreet inquiries, once the camp starts settling down for the night."
"Aye. Meanwhile, this has to be a major topic of gossip among the men, to lose their earl marshal this close to a potential battle. They must know something about it. I'll have our folk see what they can pick up by more conventional means."
Lady Sudrey received the king's party in the castle's great hall, gowned and coifed in black, attended by her daughter, Stacia, and Graham, the twenty-year-old Duke of Claibourne, who was her nephew. Graham had grown from gangling boy to comely young man since Rhys Michael last had seen him—not so burly as Sighere or his cousin Sean; clean-shaven, but sporting a wiry border clout a good deal lighter than the rich shades of auburn that marked all the other male descendants of the first Sighere. Stacia's hair was a much darker red, full and wild where it escaped from the shawl of fine tweed over her head but otherwise confined only by a band of braided gold across the brow. She had her mother's dark eyes.
Sudrey gave the king profound obeisance as he entered the hall, sinking to both knees and kissing both his hands when he came to raise her up and express his condolences. Even in her grief, she was still a handsome woman—and with the air of brisk competence Rhys Michael would have expected of Hrorik's wife. She had several of her dead husband's senior captains ready to brief the king and his officers as soon as they had settled at table. The latest communication from Prince Miklos, received at midday, indicated a willingness to parley the next morning, but only with the king himself.
"That's out of the question," Rhun said, as they tucked into simple but hearty fare spread out on one of the hall's long trestle tables. "We've told you what happened last night. I couldn't possibly allow the king to be exposed to further Deryni treachery."
"How kin ye know what Miklos might be wantin' tae offer if ye dinnae at least receive his emissary?" Sighere wanted to know.
"Why should he be wanting to offer anything?" Manfred countered, around a mouthful of venison. "If your estimates of his strength are correct, we can push him out of Culliecairn in any military encounter. It might take a while, but we have the time. Does _he_ have the time to spend the next months holed up in Culliecairn?"
"We dinnae want him holed up in Culliecairn, m'lord," young Graham replied. "We want him oot. But he certainly willnae go if ye willnae even treat with him."
Rhun scowled. "I thought I made it clear that I am not willing to deal with more Deryni treachery, especially not where the king is involved."
"Do you fear that the messenger might be Deryni?" Sudrey asked. "If so, simply specify that only a human is an acceptable courier. Tell Miklos that you'll test his man with _merasha_ , and then do it."
"'Tis common practice, here in Eastmarch," a captain named Murray volunteered. "Gi'e him a stirrup cup laced wi' _merasha_. It will only mak a human drowsy, but a Deryni cannae possibly hide the effects."
"We hae found it a safe way o' dealing with them," Graham added, "an" far more civil than keepin' archers trained on them, the minute they approach. If ye agree, we can send a messenger tonight an' set up tomorrow's meeting."
"I suppose it does make sense to hear what they've got to say," Rhun agreed reluctantly. "Tell me more of how you go about this."
The discussion digressed into specifics, shifting to map briefings on the area where a meeting might take place, during which Corban and Sean Cons returned from the camp below to report that the royal troops were settled. After a little while, as Rhun and Manfred coordinated their plans with Sighere, Graham, and the others, Sudrey came to stand unobtrusively beside the king, who had joined little in the discussion.
"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have you here, Sire," she said quietly. "My husband used to speak fondly of your brother Javan. He was a noble and honest liege. We were all shocked to hear of his death."
Rhys Michael glanced at her sidelong, wondering how much she knew of the true circumstances of Javan's death.
"I hope I may prove half so faithful a lord as Lord Hrorik was a subject, my lady," he murmured. "I was greatly saddened to hear of your husband's death."
She ducked her head. "That it came at the hands of my own kin made the anguish double, Sire. I—" She broke off and looked up at him hopefully. "Sire, might I beg a small favor of you this evening, while the others are occupied? I know your mind must be awhirl with weightier matters, but might I presume to ask that you accompany me to the chapel for a few minutes, to offer up a prayer for my husband's soul?"
He started to decline, knowing that Rhun would not approve of a solo foray, but she added, "Please, Sire. It would ease my grief greatly, to have my king come to pay respect to my dear husband. I ask only a few minutes of your time."
Though he could detect no menace in the request, neither did he think it motivated by simple piety. Sudrey had something on her mind that she did not wish to say in front of the others. Curious to see what it might be, he glanced aside at Fulk.
"Tell Cathan, very quietly, that I'm going to the chapel for a few minutes to pay my respects to the late Earl of Eastmarch," he murmured. "I shan't be long. We'll wait for you outside the door."
Not waiting to see the effect, as Fulk passed on the message and then rose to follow, Rhys Michael offered the Lady Sudrey his arm and escorted her from the hall. Since Fulk offered no comment when he shortly joined them, the king gathered that his explanation had been accepted. Bringing Fulk instead of Cathan probably had reassured Rhun as well, for the great lords believed Fulk's loyalty to be more certain than that of the king's brother-in-law. Now, so long as he did not linger too long out of Rhun's sight...
Sudrey said nothing as she led them out across the castle yard and up the chapel steps, but as she held back to let Fulk open the door, she briefly rested her free hand on one of his.
"Good Sir Fulk, please keep watch and see that our prayers are not disturbed," she murmured.
Somewhat to Rhys Michael's surprise, Fulk ducked his head in mute agreement, remaining outside the door as he closed it after them. Sudrey gave him a bleak glance as she led him through the tiny, dim-lit nave, directing his attention forward as they came to a halt before the altar rail.
"My Hrorik lies here, in the holy place before the altar," she murmured, crossing herself ponderously. "He would have scorned the presumption, but his chieftains insisted. When I die, I hope to lie there beside him. 'Tis no claim of sanctity on my part, I assure you, but my place is at his side. He was a bonnie man."
Choking back a sob, she buried her face in her hands and sank to her knees on the tapestried kneeler before the rail. Rhys Michael knelt down beside her a little awkwardly and dutifully crossed himself, intending to offer up at least a token _Pater Noster_ in Hrorik's behalf, but something had struck him as odd about the exchange by the door. He found his gaze wandering across the carved stone of the screen behind the altar, lifting to the crimson gleam of the Presence Lamp suspended to one side. He would have expected some comment from Fulk, but there had been none.
"Do not react, in case we are observed," Sudrey's voice murmured low, close at his left side. "Are you aware that someone has been tampering with Sir Fulk's mind?"
The question startled him, though he managed not to make any physical reaction. He closed his eyes briefly, bowing his head over his folded hands, then dared to glance at her sidelong, ready to Truth-Read.
"What makes you say that?" he whispered. "If it were true, how could you know such a thing?"
She raised her face to the altar, but her glance darted sideways as she folded her hands piously before her.
"Now, that is a reaction I had not expected," she murmured. "You seem surprised that I know of this, but not surprised that the thing was done."
As she glanced at him again, he felt the faint quest of a probe against his shields, and he stiffened them in automatic reflex, brief panic surging up then as he realized she could sense it.
"Oh, my," she whispered. "Forgive me, Sire, but I had no idea. Or rather, I had heard rumors—about the Haldanes, not you in particular—but I paid them little mind. Sire, I swear to you that I would never do you harm. Can you Truth-Read that oath?"
He could only stare at her speechlessly, his mind whirling with the implications, still uncertain whether he dared trust her, even though he knew she spoke the truth.
"You do have the power of the Haldanes, don't you. Sire?" she whispered. "Dear God, this changes everything. I begin to have a little hope. Sire, though I share Miklos' bloodline, I have little power and am little trained. My allegiance I gave to my husband and his people many years ago, and that will always remain. I have not much to offer, but what I have is yours to command. Read me, I beseech you. We have little time, and there is so much I would have you know."
Trembling, she bowed her head and folded her arms along the altar rail, the left arm underneath, and turned that palm upward, her open fingers inviting his contact but hidden from sight from the door behind them.
"Read me, I beg you," she urged, pressing a little closer. "I will make you no resistance. God willing, I may be able to assist you in ways neither of us dreamed."
Her words were truth. He could sense no danger in what she asked. Adopting the mirror image of her pose, he laid the fingers of his right hand atop hers and used the link of flesh to forge a link of mind, extending cautious probes against erratic shields that wavered and rolled back immediately at the pressure. She had neither the strength nor the control of the other Deryni with whom he had had contact—except, perhaps, Mika and Cathan—but such support as she could give was there, and his for the asking.
Quickly he skimmed the bare details, as yet offering nothing of his own confidence. The question of Sudrey's fate had been the spark that reignited the old feud between Murdoch and the Kheldour lords at Javan's coronation festivities. Rhys Michael had been present, but paid less attention than he should have done, being young and never dreaming he would have to deal with the aftermath himself one day. Miklos himself had raised the question, claiming Sudrey of Rhorau as distant kin to the Torenthi Royal House, captured in the taking of Kheldour by Hrorik's father, Duke Sighere, and given as hostage with her brother into the keeping of Ewan, Sighere's eldest son.
The brother, Kennet, had become a squire and then a knight in Ewan's service, eventually dying with his lord at Murdoch's hands; Sudrey had married Hrorik, the middle of Sighere's sons, and set aside her powers and her links with Torenth out of love for him. When Hrorik finally had achieved his vengeance against Murdoch, for the murder of his brother Ewan, Sudrey had rejoiced with her lord and drunk the health of the king who had permitted justice to be done. And now, she was prepared to offer her loyalty and her powers, such as they were, to the brother of the man who had given justice to Eastmarch.
A rattling of the door latch behind brought Rhys Michael partially to awareness, ready to dismantle the contact.
"Nay, my lord, see for yourself," Fulk was saying, as the door creaked open. "He's only praying with the Lady Sudrey. She asked him to pay his respects at her husband's grave. It would have been an insult not to agree. There's no harm in it."
Rhys Michael all but stopped breathing, holding Sudrey passive in the link, straining to hear whether the would-be intruder would overrule Fulk, but then someone muttered a reply and the door closed again. Keeping the link suspended, Rhys Michael glanced back across the rear of the little chapel to confirm that no one had entered, then closed his fingers around Sudrey's and gave her a fuller account of Dimitri's capture and death, saving only such details of his own participation as might give clue to the identity of his other Deryni allies.
"What plan do you suppose Miklos had in mind?" he murmured, again reverting to whispered speech, lest he tire her. "Obviously, Dimitri had orders to eliminate certain individuals—and the ones he got rid of helped me as well. But what was he to have done, once we reached Culliecairn, if he'd still been alive? Given what I've just told you, does anything of Miklos' communications of the past week suggest anything? What do you advise?"
When she had given him her plan, again urging a mental link to speed the process, he let it settle for a few seconds, then slowly disengaged, releasing her hand as he rubbed his hands across his face and then looked up at the carved saints adorning the screen behind the altar. The light from the Presence Lamp was gilding them all with a ruddy, red-gold glow, all too reminiscent of blood.
"I grant that no one will question the motives you offer, but you put yourself at grave risk, if you do this for me," he said. "It will reawaken memories forgotten these twenty years and more. It may turn your own people against you."
"If other than military action is required against Miklos, they must not know it is you who have the powers, my liege," she whispered. "If they do gain some inkling, you must convince them it is a reflection of your sacred anointing as king. If I can divert even a portion of scrutiny, then it is worth being seen for what I am. And a widow can always retire to a convent and adopt a life of penance. Your _Custodes_ would like that."
Rhys Michael snorted. "More likely, they'd think you'd contaminated the place. This morning, before we left Saint Cassian's, the abbot _exorcised_ everyone who'd had contact with Dimitri last night—even Albertus' dead body. And they burned Dimitri's body."
"Sad men, indeed, so to fear us," she murmured. "But we shall try to ensure that they do not fear _you_ for such reasons. Dimitri told you last night that he would die to protect you; well, I make you that same offer."
"I very much hope that it won't be necessary for anyone else to die for me," he said quietly, taking her hand again. "That's aside from a few more of my great lords, who are long overdue to pay for their crimes. But I thank you for your loyalty, more than words can say. Other than Cathan, I have none about me in whom I can place unqualified trust."
He raised her hand to his lips, then kept it in his and tucked it under his arm as he rose and helped her to her feet.
"We'd best go back now. That will have been Lord Rhun or one of my other keepers at the door."
"It's true, then—what they say," she murmured, looking into his eyes.
"And what do they say?" he asked.
"That the king is not wholly his own master, that the great lords rule Gwynedd."
"I intend to change that," he replied. "There's been nothing I could do, up until now; but they've finally made their big mistake, in letting me come here. I'm having my first taste of freedom in my entire life, and I don't intend to give it up again."
"They may kill you," she said, "especially if they find out what you are."
He inclined his head in agreement. "They may. But maybe they won't. And if my own people don't kill me, maybe Miklos will—or Marek. God knows they'll try. At least I'll have had a try at being a real king. And with support like yours, I might even come out of it alive _and_ king."
She smiled and bent to kiss the back of his hand in homage, then turned her face toward the church door as they began walking in that direction.
So disarming was Sudrey's effusiveness over the king's kindness in joining her to pray beside her husband's grave that even Rhun could not take serious exception, at least in front of the lady. But after Manfred had briefed Rhys Michael on what had been discussed in his absence, Rhun drew him into an alcove of the castle hall to confront him. Manfred waited in the opening with his back to them, to ensure that they were not disturbed.
"Sire, I must insist that there be no repeat of tonight's little diversion," Rhun said quietly, though his eyes were blazing with anger. "What can you have been thinking? She's Deryni. I would think, after last night's events, that you would be well aware of the danger of such a contact."
Rhys Michael put on a look of injured innocence. "My lord, the lady is recently widowed, and in my behalf. It seemed a small enough courtesy, to offer up a prayer at her husband's grave."
"The sentiment is admirable, but the danger remains," Rhun said. "What if she had tried to take you over?"
"And why would she want to do that?"
"She is kin to Miklos."
"Rhun, he killed her husband. I hardly think—"
" _I_ will tell you what to think!" Rhun muttered. "Do not presume to test your bonds, simply because you are temporarily free of the strictures at Court. Your heir is in our control, as are you. Must I elaborate on threats to keep you prudent?"
Rhys Michael felt himself blanch and had to remind himself that he was not yet free. "I'm sorry, my lord," he made himself whisper. "I didn't mean to question. It's just that the Lady Sudrey—"
"I don't object to your concern for the lady," Rhun said. "What I do mind is that you went off on your own, without so much as a 'by your leave.'"
"I did have Fulk tell Cathan were I was going," Rhys Michael objected. "It was only to the chapel to pray."
"You're very fortunate that it didn't turn out to be anything else," Rhun said. "But it's done now. I trust that you now understand your error."
Rhys Michael's nod of meek contrition apparently satisfied Rhun at last, for he grunted acknowledgment and glanced out into the hall, where Fulk and Cathan were watching the royal knights bed down for the night alongside Eastmarch men. The castle had already been crowded when they arrived, but Lochalyn was prepared to offer what accommodation was possible—and it was preferable to the camp below.
"Very well, then. You'd best go and get some sleep," Rhun muttered. "We'll want to be out at our field headquarters early."
To Rhys Michael's astonishment, he was permitted to retire to the unexpected luxury of a room all to himself. Tucked into the thickness of the same wall that carried a straight stair behind the great hall, it was too small for more than a narrow bed, a washstand, and a chest at the foot of the bed, boasting neither fireplace nor garderobe, but it was the first true privacy he had been granted since leaving Rhemuth. Able to dismiss Fulk without suspicion, due to the size of the room, he let Cathan assist him out of his armor and took the opportunity to warn his brother-in-law about Rhun's reaction and pass on what he had learned of Sudrey. Cathan was amazed.
_I remember now that there was talk about her being Deryni, years ago, but who would have thought she'd offer you her assistance?_ Cathan sent, as they piled the king's armor across the trunk at the foot of the bed. _I wish there were some way to let Joram and the others know_.
_So do I, but there isn't. But maybe we can do this ourselves. We're just going to have to be alert_.
Able to offer no further comment, Cathan sighed and turned away to unroll a pallet across the door to the little room while Rhys Michael finished shedding his riding leathers and climbed into bed. After pulling off his own armor and leathers, Cathan laid his sword on the floor beside the pallet and stretched out, pulling his cloak over him for cover.
"'Night, Rhysem," he murmured.
When the king did not reply, Cathan turned on his side with a contented sigh and gazed drowsily at the rushlight on the stand beside the bed, until the flame swam before his vision and he drifted into sleep.
Around another rushlight, in a tent in the encampment below Lochalyn Castle, three Deryni huddled together for whispered counsel, having exchanged the detailed results of their night's investigations by more arcane means.
"I'd love to get my hands on Lior or one of the others who was actually present," Ansel muttered. "It's clear that Dimitri was responsible, but it seems to have gone a bit beyond what _we_ had in mind, at least."
Tieg nodded. "I'd rather both kills had been clean, though. From what I've been able to gather of Paulin's condition, it's clear that he managed to survive mind-ripping—which is either a testimony to Paulin's bullheaded stubbornness or an indicator that Dimitri wasn't as good as we thought."
"Or that Dimitri got interrupted before he could finish the job," Jesse replied. "My guess is that they found him out after he killed Albertus, they tried to take him, and Dimitri made a last-ditch attempt to take Paulin with him, knowing he wasn't going to get out of it alive anyway."
"For Paulin's sake, I wish he'd succeeded," Tieg said. "God knows how long he'll linger, with no hope of recovery—though I don't suppose he's aware what's happening to him."
"Well, at least _Custodes_ influence is going to be at an ebb for a while, with both Paulin and Albertus out of the picture," Ansel observed. "More important right now is whether the king managed to come out of it without arousing suspicion. He didn't look particularly uneasy as he rode in this evening. It will be very interesting to see how balances shift, now that Rhun is in command."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With arrows and with bows shall men come thither.
—Isaiah 7:24
A royal messenger was sent to Culliecairn with the dawn, bearing a white flag of truce and the demand that Miklos should send back his proposal with a human envoy prepared to be tested with _merasha_ before he would be admitted to the king's presence. While the messenger was gone, the royal party and their Eastmarch allies moved down to the camp and established their joint headquarters in a command tent.
Two hours later the messenger returned with a second rider at his side: a tough-looking man of middle years clad in riding leathers with Miklos' badge on the shoulder, wearing a steel cap but no weapons of any kind. Archers covered his progress as soon as he and his escort came within bowshot, accompanying him into the heart of the Gwynedd camp and halting him some distance from where Rhun, Sighere, and Lior waited before the command tent with Stevanus and Gallard de Breffni.
The messenger was hurried off into custody, against the chance he might have suffered tampering at the hands of his Deryni hosts in Culliecairn; the envoy was ordered to stand fast and make no sudden moves. Rhys Michael watched from the shaded anonymity of the command tent as Stevanus and Gallard went out to meet the man. Stevanus had a cased Deryni pricker in his hand, but he kept it shielded.
"You are?" Gallard demanded.
The man's gaze flicked from him to Stevanus, noting the badge of a battle surgeon on Stevanus' shoulder.
"Hombard of Tarkent, special envoy of his Serene Highness, Prince Miklos of Torenth," he said. "And this is the surgeon charged to ensure that I am not Deryni?"
"Please remove your glove and give me your hand," Stevanus replied, unlimbering the Deryni pricker.
Hombard looked a little startled, but he complied, not resisting as Gallard seized the hand and held it steady so that Stevanus could jab the twin needles into the back of the wrist. A muscle ticked in one cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly, but he made no sound, only rubbing at the tiny punctures when Gallard released him.
"I had expected a cup," he said almost reproachfully, removing his other glove as well and tucking both into the front of his belt. "That must be one of the Deryni prickers we hear of occasionally."
"Do you not use them in Torenth?" Stevanus replied, closing the instrument but not putting it away, watching the man's eyes.
Hombard smiled without humor. "We know who our Deryni are, Master Surgeon, so _merasha_ is little used. But I am quite human. May I be taken to the Haldane now, before I become too drowsy to convey my message?"
"When we are satisfied, you may be taken to the _king_ ," Gallard said coldly. "Even a human messenger should be careful to observe the courtesies due one prince to another."
The man shrugged and yawned.
"Then, may I be taken before your _lord_?" he amended.
Stevanus noted the dilated pupils and nodded to Gallard.
"Bring him."
Briskly the _Custodes_ knight set a gauntleted hand under Hombard's arm and followed back toward Rhun and Lior, steadying his charge when he stumbled once or twice. Hombard yawned again as Stevanus brought him before Rhun, not objecting as Lior moved in to grasp his wrist, monitoring his pulse as he inspected the wide-dilated eyes.
"Your name, sir?" Rhun asked, while Lior made his own assessment.
"Hombard of Tarkent, special envoy of his Serene Highness, Prince Miklos of Torenth."
At Lior's nod, Rhun jutted his chin in the direction of the command tent.
"Come with me," he said, leaving Hombard to follow as he went inside, hands clasped behind his back.
Inside, they had made the command tent as imposing as possible. Rhys Michael had taken a seat in a camp chair with his shield hung behind it, the Haldane sword across his knees, and his commanders and aides ranged to either side of him, with Kheldish carpets underfoot. Like the rest of them, he wore full war harness, save for helmet and gauntlets and the Haldane lion bold on his scarlet surcoat. Manfred stood at his right hand, with Cathan and Fulk behind the chair. Sighere and Graham represented the Eastmarch alliance on his left. Gallard and Stevanus remained by the entrance with Lior, Gallard pulling the flap closed behind them when all had entered.
"Sire, this is Hombard of Tarkent," Rhun said.
Hombard inclined his head—a careful movement not intended to give offense, Rhys Michael sensed, but also indicative that he did not entirely trust his balance for a proper bow. Gesturing for a stool to be set behind the Torenthi messenger, the king returned the nod.
"Please be seated, my lord."
Hombard fought back a yawn as he settled on the stool, bracing his feet wide for better stability. The eyes that he turned to the king were all pupil.
"My lord, I bring certain propositions from my lord Prince Miklos of Torenth, under terms specified by yourself. Will you hear these propositions?"
"That's why you're here," Rhun said impatiently, coming to stand beside Manfred. "Out with it, man. We didn't bring you here to play games."
"Indeed not," the man agreed, setting his hands on his knees and drawing a steadying breath. "I am quite aware that this is no game. Sir, my lord desires you to know that he is graciously minded to reconsider his earlier plans for the castle and town of Culliecairn. Given certain assurances, he is minded to quit Culliecairn without further danger to lives—those of his men or yours. However, he requires that you treat with him directly, face-to-face, to resolve the terms."
"Prince Miklos expects me to agree to this?" Rhys Michael said, before Rhun could reply.
"Prince Miklos expects that you will wish to prevent further loss of life, my lord," Hombard said. "He deeply regrets the death of Lord Hrorik, for he was husband to the Lady Sudrey, who is distant kin to my lord. He suggests that the two of you approach a central, agreed meeting place under a flag of truce, within sight of both armies, each of you unarmed and accompanied by only one attendant. If you wish, he will stipulate that I shall be his, since you already have verified that I am but human."
As he paused to stifle another yawn, giving his head a slight shake, Sighere said stiffly, "Hrorik agreed tae parley under a flag o' truce, an' it cost him his life an' the lives o' many other braw men. An' the takin' o' Culliecairn was entirely unprovoked."
"An error was made," Hombard conceded. "Lord Hrorik was not to be touched, for the sake of the Lady Sudrey. My lord therefore proposes to quit Culliecairn."
"He was not proposing to quit Culliecairn when his herald delivered his demands in Rhemuth, a fortnight ago," Rhys Michael said. "Nor did he express any particular remorse over the death of the Earl Hrorik. Then, his talk was all bluster over the christening of his nephew, the son of a man who makes claim to my throne."
"It had the desired effect, did it not?" Hombard said.
"And what was that?" Rhun demanded.
"Why, attaining the homage of the Haldane, by his attendance at Culliecairn in honor of Prince Marek's son," Hombard replied, to a rumble of indignation from Rhys Michael's officers. "No further tribute is required at this time."
"No tribute has been given, nor shall be," Manfred said through clenched teeth. "Nor do I think Miklos ever intended that the King of Gwynedd should attend the christening of the Bastard's heir."
Hombard shrugged, not batting an eye at the insult. "It is not for me to speculate on my lord's intentions, sir. I can only tell you that my lord bade me say that his plans have changed. The young prince his nephew has taken ill. He was privately christened last night. He and his parents have already left to take him back to Tolan."
Rhys Michael sat back at that, wondering if it could be true. Hombard believed it to be true, but so would any messenger, repeating what he had been told to say.
"Why should we believe this?" Manfred demanded. "The fact remains that Prince Miklos is Deryni and has long and openly supported a pretender to the throne of Gwynedd. I do not think he would submit to _merasha_ the way you have done, to ensure that we can treat with him without fear of treachery."
"I cannot refute that last, my lord," Hombard conceded. "I would point out, however, that even my lord Miklos can be Truth-Read. My lord suggests that the Lady Sudrey might provide this service to your king, by accompanying him to the parley my lord requests. My lord reminds you that, as kin to the Torenthi Royal House, the lady bears Deryni blood—not sufficient to pose you any threat, but certainly sufficient to verify the truth of my lord's proposals from his own lips, as Gwynedd and Torenth discuss terms of a withdrawal."
"As Gwynedd and _Miklos_ discuss such terms," Rhun said pointedly. "Unless, of course, it's King Arion who authorized this bit of mischief."
Hombard shrugged and yawned again. "I speak for Prince Miklos, my lord. I can tell you nothing more. I am sent only to treat for terms of a meeting."
After an instant's taut consideration, Rhun jerked his chin at Stevanus.
"Take the messenger somewhere and let him lie down while we sort this out," he said. "And stay with him."
When the two had gone out, Gallard accompanying them, Rhun came to sink down on the stool the messenger had vacated. Lior also approached, to stand with Manfred. Sighere looked uneasy, Graham dismayed. As Rhys Michael handed his sword back to Cathan to hold, he found himself wondering whether he could have misjudged Sudrey.
"This makes no sense," Rhun muttered. "Why this sudden change? Why would Miklos offer to withdraw? Unless, of course, he is aware of what happened to Dimitri."
As he cast an appraising look at those who had been present, Manfred glanced uneasily at the king.
"You think he was counting on Dimitri to shift the balance once he had lured the king here?" he asked.
As both he and Rhun looked at Lior, the _Custodes_ priest shrugged. "'Tis possible, my lord. With Deryni, anything is possible."
Rhun drummed his fingers on his knee, then turned his attention back to the king.
"Meeting Miklos under his terms is still out of the question, Sire. I can't allow you to see Miklos alone."
"I wouldn't be alone if Lady Sudrey accompanies me," Rhys Michael pointed out.
Manfred snorted. "That's hardly any more reassuring. If she's as little endowed with Deryni power as everyone has always insisted, then she'd be of little use to you against any tricks Miklos might try to pull. And if she's powerful enough to protect you against _him_ , then she's powerful enough to be dangerous in her own right—especially if she should turn her ultimate loyalties back to her own blood."
Sighere folded his burly arms across his chest, anger smouldering in the dark eyes.
"If, by that, ye mean her Torenthi kin—have ye forgotten that those he calls her 'kin' are responsible for Hrorik's death? I assure ye, _she_ hasnae forgotten."
"And _I_ have not forgotten Hrorik's loyalty," Rhys Michael said, "or that of _his_ kin. I certainly have no reason to doubt the Lady Sudrey's loyalty. It was Miklos who stirred this pot seven years ago, when he first inquired of my brother Javan concerning her fate. Her Torenthi kin don't seem to have cared much about her before that. She declined contact with them then, and I do not believe that recent events are likely to have produced a change of heart."
Manfred scowled. "Perhaps he hopes to change her mind, if he can contrive to meet her in person."
"I have no doubts about Lady Sudrey's loyalty," Rhys Michael repeated, hoping his faith was not misplaced.
"It still could be a trick," Rhun muttered.
"Well, if it is, it's one that's been hatching for about twenty years, which I doubt," the king replied. "Look. I'm not keen on the idea either. It's possible Miklos _will_ try something, but he'll do more than try, if we have to fight it out in the field. Granted, we'd win eventually—but at what cost? And you can bet that Miklos and Marek will slip through our fingers before we can reach them. Marek already has, if you can believe what the messenger said. That only postpones the day of reckoning."
"If we simply let Miklos withdraw, it still postpones the day of reckoning," Rhun said. "And if he plans treachery, and you fall, it brings another day of reckoning immediately. Are you that eager for another regency?"
"Of course not. I'm no more eager to die than the next man. But we'd be gambling possible treachery against the certainty of many lives being lost, if we have to fight this out." Sighere was nodding as the king went on.
"I've been asking myself why Miklos would even offer to parley, much less withdraw," Rhys Michael said. "Up until this morning, he'd given no indication that he planned to make this anything other than a mortal insult, by taking my fortress and giving it to the heir of my chief rival—and a bloody confrontation, if I tried to make him back down."
"But now he's _offerin'_ tae back down," Graham said. "Why?"
"A good question," Rhys Michael replied. "I can only suppose it's come of what happened the other night. Marek's son may well be ill, but I doubt it; I wonder if he was ever even in Culliecairn. No, I think that having Dimitri unmasked took Miklos totally by surprise—as it certainly did us. I don't delude myself by supposing that we came out of it as well as we did by anything other than blind luck—but he doesn't know that. And until he figures out what happened to Dimitri, he doesn't dare push us too far.
"That means at least talking about withdrawing from Culliecairn—and offering to let us bring the only other Deryni we've got is the best he can do to reassure us that he intends to operate in good faith."
"Sire, these are all well-reasoned arguments," Lior said thoughtfully, studying a thumbnail, "but has it occurred to you that we might not have come out of the Dimitri affair as well as we thought, and _that's_ why Miklos wants this meeting?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we've been worrying about whether Lady Sudrey might betray you, if we allowed her to go with you to parley with Miklos. But another, even more insidious possibility is that Dimitri could have gotten to you after all—in which case, you could betray _yourself_ into Miklos' hands."
While consternation whispered among them, Rhys Michael reflected that the possibility of betraying himself was not altogether farfetched—though not at all in the way Lior imagined. It occurred to him, however, that he might confirm that he had not misjudged Sudrey while simultaneously reassuring the great lords that Dimitri had not tampered with his mind.
"There _is_ a way we could find out about that," he said tentatively.
"Find out about what?" Rhun said.
"The prospect is not personally reassuring," Rhys Michael went on, "and I don't even know whether she's capable of doing it, but you could ask Lady Sudrey to probe me, to find out whether or not Dimitri did any tampering."
"You suggest we _let_ a Deryni touch you?" Rhun whispered.
"She isn't just any Deryni," Rhys Michael said carefully, "and I think we could stipulate safeguards to ensure that she didn't go beyond what was asked. Not that she would," he added, with a pleading glance at Sighere and Graham. "She has good reasons for remaining loyal to the House of Haldane, which has upheld her husband's family for many years—and even better reasons for hating Miklos, who killed her husband and whose line abandoned her when she was a young, frightened, forgotten hostage in a suddenly hostile land. Why should she turn against me, when Miklos is the enemy?"
Lior was nodding slowly as Rhys Michael finished. "If she is of such meager power as everyone insists, I would question whether she is capable of what is needed, but the idea does have merits," he said. "Father Magan could help me monitor the procedure. He's familiar with the outward characteristics of different kinds of workings."
Rhun snorted. "Both of you are familiar with what Dimitri wanted you to _think_ were the usual characteristics, over the years."
"I fancy I do have some expertise in this area, my lord," Lior murmured, his pride now affronted. "If she tried anything, a Deryni pricker would put a stop to it very quickly."
"She wouldn't try anything," Rhys Michael said. "And don't drug her, or she can't go along to Truth-Read Miklos for me."
After some further discussion, Rhun sent Lior to fetch Sudrey, instructing him to bring Father Magan as well. Rhys Michael paced and fretted while they waited, sitting back down a little uncertainly as Lior and Magan brought Sudrey in. Both priests had Deryni prickers in their hands, though the instruments were not uncapped. Sudrey looked frightened, pale, almost betrayed.
"I apologize if these trappings cause you alarm, my lady," Rhys Michael said quietly. "I believe you are able to Truth-Read. Please do so, if you wish, and be assured that I bear you nothing but goodwill. You have been brought before me, but it is I who should be kneeling at your feet as a supplicant."
"Sire, I do not understand," she said carefully.
He nodded. "I hope to make everything plain. What was not revealed last night, when we told you of apprehending Prince Miklos' agent in our midst the night before, is that there is some chance he may have—interfered with me in some way. I have no memory of this—and, indeed, would have none, if he was as skilled as we believe. Nor does there seem to have been time for extensive tampering to have occurred—but again, his adjustments could account for my perception of the time involved. He could have had the opportunity for some degree of tampering, whether or not he used it."
Comprehension gradually had lit Sudrey's face as the story unfolded, and now she nodded, speaking up before the king could continue.
"Are you proposing that I probe you, Sire, to ascertain whether tampering occurred?"
"I am," he said. "If it did, it could affect my ability to treat with Miklos, if I agree to this parley he proposes. Father Lior and his colleagues are cognizant that, as a good daughter of the Church, you will have put aside your Deryni powers many years ago, but circumstances are such that we must know whether I have been compromised. Will you help me?"
She glanced aside at Lior, who was making no attempt to conceal the Deryni pricker in his hands.
"The law forbids me to use my powers, Sire, and the Church condemns them. These good fathers seem ready to intervene, in ways not at all pleasant to my kind. I have but little power, but either you wish me to try my meager abilities in your behalf, or you do not. If you do, I cannot help you with the threat of _merasha_ hanging over my head."
"We are here to protect the king," Lior said under his breath. "There has been enough treachery from Deryni, over the years, that you cannot expect total trust on our part, while you lay the king helpless with your powers."
"What would reassure you that I act only in his interests. Father?" she said quietly. "I will swear on any holy relic you like, I will comply with any reasonable condition you wish to impose—but I cannot work with you hovering over me, threatening to stick me with _merasha_ the first time your nervousness gets the better of you. What is it you fear? I have not much power, as such is reckoned among my people. With his consent, I can probe the king to look for alien traces, as you request, but subtle or powerful workings of my own, without my subject's knowledge, are quite beyond me."
"How can we believe that?" Magan asked.
She shrugged and allowed herself a wry smile. "It is for you to discover how you may believe anything, Father. Some folk call it faith. I can only give you my most solemn and sacred word—on the life of my daughter, on the soul of my beloved husband, who is dead because of Miklos of Torenth, on my hopes for my own salvation—that I am the king's loyal vassal and would do nothing to cause him harm, though it cost me mine own life."
She raised her right hand, touched her fingertips to her lips, then crossed herself slowly. Rhys Michael, glancing at the others, signed for her to come closer.
"I take you at your word, my lady," he said. "What must I do? How can I best aid you in your task?"
"He must not lose consciousness!" Lior said, seizing her shoulder and turning her before she could move from between him and Magan. "We must retain that control, to judge what you are doing."
Sudrey turned her gaze back to the king. "Can you rest easy under my touch, Sire?" she asked. "Conscious, you could be aware of my probe, which is apt to be clumsy, and your natural instinct will be to pull back, to deny me access. If I am to help you, you must not do that."
"I can only promise to try," Rhys Michael replied, watching her. "We had a Healer when I was a boy. I had learned to endure his touch."
"We shall do the best we can, then," she said, smiling slightly as she came around to stand behind him. "I shall work from here, so that the good fathers can see your face and reassure themselves that you are coming to no harm."
As she set her hands on his shoulders, drawing him back to lean against her waist, her thought flicked into his mind.
_What is it you wish me to do, besides pretend to probe you?_
Breathing out with a sigh, he made himself relax against her.
_Set up this scenario first. I'll pretend to resist a little at first. Once we've convinced them Dimitri didn't tamper, I hope they'll let you go with me to treat with Miklos_.
"That's fine," she murmured, thumbs moving up to massage at the base of his skull. "Try to relax. Look up at that spot on the ceiling, just above your head. Keep looking at it and let yourself float. Look only at that spot and let everything else drift out of focus... and drift..."
Making a show of compliance, he flexed his hands and consciously made them relax against the chair arms, allowing himself a heavy sigh then, as he let himself drift into trance of his own controlling. It was hard to keep his eyes open, but he knew it would alarm Lior and Magan if he appeared to lose consciousness, so he let his eyelids flutter but only close partway.
"That's very good," she murmured. "Just keep floating. You needn't be afraid... Now, let yourself return to the night before last. It was frightening, I know, but the fear cannot touch you now. Picture the man called Dimitri. He Truth-Read you while questions were asked... Did he do anything else...?"
As he felt her chin come to rest on the top of his head, he let the link form fully and himself took control of the working, apologetically sending forth his own probe, deeper than he had in the chapel, to confirm what he had read before—that Sudrey had long ago turned her back on her Torenthi kin and offered him her unqualified loyalty and service.
_Forgive me_ , he set in her mind, _but Miklos wishes to parley, and has suggested that I bring you along to Truth-Read for me. I had to be absolutely certain you had no hidden agenda_.
More gently then, and all in the space of a few heartbeats, he sent her the essence of what Miklos proposed and the arguments Rhun and the others had raised against it. Acknowledging, she pulled back a little, again massaging at the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders.
"Well done, Sire," she breathed. "You can stretch now. You're perfectly fine—and so far as I can tell, this Dimitri did naught but Truth-Read you."
As Rhys Michael blinked and sighed, flexing his fingers and stretching his neck, flicking his gaze around the tent to reorient, Lior and Magan exchanged whispered counsel. Sighere and Graham looked noncommittal. Rhun was nodding reluctantly in response to something Manfred had muttered to him.
"You're sure," Lior said, "that Dimitri didn't tamper with him?"
She shook her head and came around to kneel before the king, taking one of his hands in hers to kiss it.
"He did not, Father. Nor shall his lord tamper with mine. Sire, I beg you, let me come with you to treat with Miklos. I have not much power compared to him, but he does not know that. Perhaps my mere presence will keep him on his best behavior. And if not, perhaps I can protect you at least well enough to get out of any trap."
To Rhys Michael's surprise, Manfred was nodding, and Lior, though he was scowling, offered no word of protest.
"Well, at least it appears Dimitri did no damage in this particular instance," Rhun said grudgingly. "I confess, I like not the idea of letting you treat directly with Miklos, Sire, but if you are willing to take the risk, it may well be our best option. Shall I send the messenger back to arrange the meeting?"
Raising Sudrey to her feet, Rhys Michael tucked her hand in the curve of his arm.
"Please do so, my lord marshal," he said. "My vassal and I are eager to end this confrontation, to ensure that no more good men fall to a folly that need not be. I shall treat with Miklos of Torenth and a single human companion at midafternoon, accompanied by this brave lady."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
—Psalms 144:1
"Tell me about the Haldane," Miklos said to the man sitting before him and Marek in a guardroom off the gate tower of Culliecairn. "I wish your frank impressions."
Hombard of Tarkent contained a yawn and made himself sit up a little straighter. The soporific effect of the _merasha_ they had given him in the Gwynedd camp had abated somewhat, but he still would rather have been left alone to sleep it off.
"He is comely, fit, apparently competent," Hombard said, delving back into memory. "He conveys an air of authority, yet seems somewhat reluctantly dependent upon his lords—in particular, a man who, I believe, is his earl marshal. I would guess there is some friction between the two, or at least an irritation."
"Most perceptive," Miklos murmured. "Who else was present?"
"Earl Sighere and the young Duke of Claibourne, as was expected; another senior military officer—by the device on his brigandine, the Earl of Culdi, I believe. Also several men of the _Custodes Fidei_ —a knight, a battle surgeon, a priest—no names were ever mentioned. And two aides."
"I see." Miklos glanced thoughtfully at the document Hombard had brought back, then returned his attention to its bearer. "Please continue. Perhaps you would summarize their reaction to the proposal you presented, point by point."
"Aye, my lord. They doubt your promise to observe a truce while you parley, knowing of Lord Hrorik's fate, and they question your possible motives for seeking this parley. Knowing you are Deryni, they naturally fear your power. They resent that you have given aid to Prince Marek and seem aware that you act on your own in this matter—that the king your brother has not sanctioned your actions."
"Succinct and perceptive," Miklos murmured, nodding. "Anything else?"
"Very little, my lord. I was treated with civility and even kindness by the Haldane, who bade me sit when he observed that the _merasha_ had made me unsteady on my feet. Incidentally, the drug was administered with one of their Deryni prickers, not by mouth; this made the onset much faster and more profound. When I had presented your proposals, I was taken to another place where, I confess, I dozed."
As he yawned again, Miklos glanced at Marek, who had been lounging against the sill of a window overlooking the yard below, wrapped in a dark cloak. Marek's most senior captain was with him, a seasoned veteran named Valentin who had taught both young men swordplay as boys. Also present was Miklos' personal physician, Cosim, a striking-looking man with piercing eyes and silver at his temples, wearing the high-collared dark green tunic of a military Healer.
"Do you still wish to try it?" Miklos asked quietly.
Marek nodded toward Hombard. "I think we ought to Read him first, despite the _merasha._ "
Hombard looked neither surprised nor dismayed as Miklos bestirred himself to come and lay a hand across the man's forehead. The drooping eyelids closed and he exhaled with a sigh, his head lolling more heavily against Miklos' hand. After a few seconds, Miklos flicked a glance of summons in the direction of the Healer, who moved in behind Hombard to take control as his master stepped away.
"They did not permit him to see a great deal," Miklos said quietly, as he joined Marek. "He did gain a glimpse of our dear cousin, just before they released him to return, but it does not seem to have occurred to them that they could enlist her assistance. They even failed to use her to Truth-Read while they interviewed him."
"But they've apparently decided that she's sufficient balance to keep _you_ honest," Marek said with a smirk. "Well, let's see what can be done. Cosim, is he ready?"
The Healer looked up, dark eyes veiled by his power. "Ready, my lord. Valentin, bring another chair for his Highness."
As the captain brought the requested chair, setting it beside Hombard's, Marek threw off his cloak and came to sit. Underneath, he was wearing leathers and harness identical to Hombard's. In common with all the other men in the room, his long, dark hair was pulled back and braided and clouted in a soldier's knot. He grinned as he handed Miklos his signet ring.
"I'll ask you to take care of that for me," he said. "Have we candles?"
"Here, my lord," Valentin said, putting a slender, honey-colored taper into Marek's hands. "Blessed by the Patriarch."
"You don't approve, do you, Valentin?" Marek replied. "It isn't black magic, my old friend; just a simple deception. I have to be able to get to the Haldane if I'm going to kill him."
"It's too soon," Valentin muttered, handing a second candle to the Healer. "You should wait a few years, until you have more heirs."
"But the longer I wait, the more heirs _he'll_ have," Marek pointed out. "Don't worry; if it isn't safe, I won't do anything."
"So you say," the old captain muttered.
Smiling indulgently, Marek patted his shoulder for the older man to come closer, then leaned back against him and settled with the candle clasped between his hands as Valentin rested both hands on his shoulders. The Healer had set the second candle between Hombard's hands and now came around to crouch between the two chairs, his left hand clasped around Hombard's. After passing his right hand over the candle to conjure flame, he clasped it around Marek's.
"Have you any questions, my lord, before I take you down?" the Healer asked, himself now the bridge between the two men.
Marek drew a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the candle flame in Hombard's hands, visibly relaxing as he exhaled.
"I'm ready," he murmured.
Standing before them, Miklos watched with detached interest as his cousin sank deep into trance at the Healer's bidding, noting as the signs of control deepened, the eyelids fluttered over the dark eyes, and Valentin eventually stepped back.
"Hand... to mind," Cosim breathed, himself very deep in trancing as he called forth the spell. "Mind... to flame. Bring forth the light... and then bring forth the glamour..."
Almost immediately, fire flared on Marek's candle, its light gilding the placid planes of his face—which then began to waver and change. Lines sank across the youthful brow, along jowls suddenly less firm; grey began to thread through hair no longer so dark or so glossy. Within seconds, two Hombards sat entranced before Miklos and the Healer Cosim.
A moment to orient himself, and Cosim raised his head to glance back at Miklos.
"Sufficient, my lord?" he murmured.
Miklos surveyed the two now-identical men seated before him and slowly nodded, smiling. "Well done, Master Cosim. Do release him now."
A flick of power, and Marek was stirring, drawing a deep breath and blinking several times as control was restored. His eyes, now gone from dark to blue, darted to the candle still burning between his clasped hands, and he blew it out with a grin as he glanced up at Miklos, also reaching across to pinch out Hombard's.
"Satisfactory?" he asked. The voice was several tones lower than Marek's usual light tenor.
Miklos chuckled and touched the Healer on the shoulder in congratulation. " _Very_ well done, Master Cosim. Perhaps you and Valentin would take the real Lord Hombard off to a well-earned bed. Put Marek's cloak on him and pull up the hood. I would as soon it not become general knowledge what we do. We shall join you in the yard directly."
An hour later, two riders emerged from the line of Torenthi troops ranged across the mouth of the Cardosa Pass, heading slowly across the plain toward the Gwynedd line under a white flag of truce. Rhys Michael Haldane watched them from horseback atop a grassy knoll overlooking the plain, Sudrey at his side and Rhun and Manfred flanking them. He was armored but unarmed—as, presumably, were the men coming to meet him. Others of his officers and aides were also gathered round, with the forces of Gwynedd drawn up in orderly lines to either side and back, both Kheldour men and the ones he had brought.
"I still don't like this," Rhun muttered, his eyes never leaving the approaching pair. "Why does Miklos insist upon a face-to-face meeting?"
Sudrey, astride a bay palfrey at the king's left hand, turned her face toward the earl marshal. She had changed her widow's weeds for the divided skirts and tweeds worn by most noble ladies in these border highlands when they ventured forth on horseback, though a black coif still bound her dark hair.
"Because you found out his agent and broke him," she said. "He will have attributed at least a part of the credit to his Highness, whether or not this is true. And there _are_ the persistent rumors that the Haldanes are divinely favored."
"What do you mean, 'divinely favored'?" Manfred rumbled.
"Why, that God protects the Haldanes," she replied. "Did He not vanquish Imre, when Cinhil came to claim back his throne? 'Tis the power of God that has ordained the survival of Haldane's Royal House."
Rhun snorted. "Consorting with Deryni sorcerers hardly constitutes divine aid, I think. Satanic, perhaps."
"Oh, do you still think that Deryni magic was responsible for the Haldane restoration?" Sudrey asked, ignoring the jibe. "Granted, Camber MacRorie and his kin convinced the Michaelines to provide military backing—but that was hardly magic. I was only a girl when it happened, and far from Valoret, but I remember that my uncle Termod was quite convinced that Cinhil Haldane had called up something far outside _our_ ability, to defeat Cousin Imre. 'Tis God who protects the Haldanes, my lord, and He will not allow His anointed to come to harm at the hands of a Deryni sorcerer."
As she rode down the knoll at Rhys Michael's side, heading out across the plain, he glanced at her in some amazement, adjusting the golden circlet on his head with one gloved hand.
"Why did you tell them that? Do you want to get me killed?"
She chuckled. "They have forgotten, Sire, but you are king by Divine Right. I do not pretend to understand where your powers have come from, but it is important that _they_ believe them come of God. Now, if it _should_ become necessary to use those powers against my kinsman, you have your own justification, even if, for some reason, I cannot cover for you."
"You expect treachery, then?" he asked.
"I do not expect it, no. But 'tis best to be prepared for such things."
Nodding thoughtful agreement, he directed his gaze ahead again, studying his adversary as he and Sudrey continued to approach. Now halted in the central area designated for the meeting, beneath the floating banner of white silk borne by Hombard of Tarkent, Prince Miklos of Torenth waited astride a fleet, desert-bred steed the color of a fox. The animal's flaxen mane and tail exactly echoed the shade of its rider's blond hair, which was braided and clubbed at the back of his head in a soldier's knot and bound across the forehead with a fillet of ruddy gold.
Other than some new lines around the dark eyes, Miklos looked scarcely older than when Rhys Michael last had seen him. Instead of the tawny, flowing silks he had worn at Javan's coronation, nearly seven years before, a close-fitting brigandine of russet leather encased his body, studded with roundels of polished brass that caught the sunlight like a galaxy of suns. Matching vambraces clasped his forearms above gauntleted gloves that flared at the wrists, and the thigh-high boots were cut and studded to incorporate greaves in their design. From what Rhys Michael could see, the prince bore no weapons.
Hombard bowed in the saddle as Rhys Michael and Sudrey drew rein, a proper courtier, but neither Miklos nor the king so much as flicked an eyelid downward.
"Well met, Haldane," Miklos said pleasantly enough. "You were but a lad when last we met. I see that time has at least enabled you to look like what you claim to be."
"I make no claim," Rhys Michael said carefully. "I am what I am—King of Gwynedd—and that is something that your kinsman, who calls himself Marek of Festil, can never hope to be."
"Indeed?" Smiling, Miklos leaned his crossed forearms casually against his saddle's high pommel. "That does remain to be seen, does it not?"
"Some other day, perhaps," Rhys Michael replied. "I believe possession of Culliecairn is the issue here. Your envoy indicated that you now intend to withdraw."
"In due course." Miklos nodded toward Sudrey. "Actually, I wished first to speak with my cousin. Thank you for obliging me by bringing her along."
Rhys Michael glanced at Sudrey, who had stiffened in the saddle.
"I have nothing to say to my husband's murderer," she said coldly. "I would not have come, except that my liege lord requested it. I am here to assist the King of Gwynedd, whose vassal I am."
"And that," Miklos said, "is precisely what I wished to discuss with you. Cousin, I have been trying for seven years to ascertain what became of you. I did not wish to believe that you would so far betray your blood as to marry against the interests of Torenth."
"And what is Torenth to me, except that a scion of Torenth has slain my lord?" she retorted. "Where was Torenth when my brother and I were abandoned, after the Festillic collapse? That I found kindness and love amidst my captors I count as one of God's great mercies."
"A dubious mercy, if it led you to betray your country, your race, and your kin," Miklos said mildly. "The royal blood of Torenth runs in your veins, Sudrey of Rhorau. Do you recall how we treat with traitors in Torenth?"
Without further preamble, he raised his right fist and thrust it toward her with a muttered Word, opening out his fingers with a snap. The gesture launched a fist-sized ball of fire that roared toward her like an inferno, growing as it came. Even as her shields went up, dismay and outrage flaring with her aura, Rhys Michael was interposing himself, his own shields blazing into being.
In a shower of sparks that scattered and fell like shooting stars, the sphere struck Rhys Michael's shields and dissipated harmlessly, much to the astonishment of both Miklos and Hombard.
What had begun as a casual, almost offhand accompaniment to Miklos' denunciation now shifted to more focused intent directed not only at Sudrey but also at Rhys Michael, who somehow had managed to avert Sudrey's just fate. As Hombard glanced uncertainly at his prince, increasingly fighting a now skittish mount, Miklos stabbed a gloved forefinger at the ground behind Rhys Michael. Sudrey screamed as flame leaped up from the very ground and began to trace a curved, fiery line around to the side and then behind Miklos, laying down a containing circle.
"No!"
Even as it began, Rhys Michael saw the danger—that if the circle closed, their escape was cut off. Instinctively he raised one hand in a gesture of forbidding. A Word of command conjured heavy cloud above the flames, weeping moisture that changed to steam as the fire below was quenched—to the dismay of the horses, who were growing increasingly difficult to control. The result was a smoking black line of burned turf outlining just over half of the circle Miklos had intended—now rendered impotent—and to underline his point, Rhys Michael sent a warning burst of energy against Miklos himself.
The Torenthi prince countered it easily, but his expression showed his shock. His horse began fighting the bit, white-eyed and on the verge of panic, and he had to turn some of his attention to bringing it back under control. Hombard was backing his horse away from Miklos, looking very alarmed, and Sudrey had turned her nervous steed, ready to flee at a word from the king.
"Don't try to interfere, Haldane!" Miklos shouted, again flinging fire behind them to prevent their escape. "'Tis only Sudrey I want."
"Well, you shan't have her," Rhys Michael replied, as his own mount reared and fought him.
"No?"
For answer, Rhys Michael turned another, stronger burst of power at Miklos like a crimson wave of light, defense shifting to attack. The Torenthi prince repelled the attack and struck again, but at Sudrey—forked lightning that leaped from his hand to spear her horse through the chest and out one side. The animal squealed and went down under her, dead before it hit the ground, even as Rhys Michael spurred closer to snatch her from the saddle before she could be crushed. He had dragged her to a precarious perch before him and was wheeling his stallion back on its haunches, preparing to disengage, when Hombard's mount slammed into his and sent it and him and Sudrey tumbling.
He ended up flat on his back, wheezing for breath, but somehow he managed to keep hold of the reins. An exultant Hombard was pulling up his stallion a few paces beyond and yanking it around for another pass, gigging the animal into another charge. As Rhys Michael hauled himself around by the reins, scrambling on hands and knees to regain his footing, he managed to avoid being trampled, but one murderous, steel-shod hoof came slamming down on his right hand with crushing force.
He screamed and let go of the reins in reflex. The pain wrenched at his concentration, and he only just managed to deflect another blast of Miklos' magic as he rolled clear and finally staggered to his feet, the injured hand hugged to his breast.
Sudrey had caught his horse and was hanging on to the reins and one stirrup, trying to get back up. To Rhys Michael's shocked horror and surprise, a blast of magic from the "human" Hombard sent her reeling to her knees, with a little cry. The horse bolted and took off for the Gwynedd line, where riders were already starting to thunder down the slope.
But Miklos was joining his attack to Hombard's, a clenched fist raised toward Sudrey, who was clutching at her chest. Through his own pain, Rhys Michael caught a wave of hers and dashed to her side, catching his arms around her from behind and launching another counterattack through the focus of his uninjured hand. The first bolt stopped Miklos' assault and nearly made him pull his mount over backward; the second all but bowled Hombard out of the saddle.
And how could Hombard be Deryni? They had tested him with _merasha_!
The air was atremble with lightning and the acrid smell of power gone rogue. Hombard was backing off, looking shaken and alarmed, but fury turned Miklos' face into a mask. As he readied another attack, this time against Rhys Michael, the king gathered up the power of the spell Dimitri had taught him—that Miklos had tried to use against Sudrey—thrusting outward through the focus of his good hand to punch his power through Miklos' shields and close a fiery hand around the Deryni prince's heart.
Rhys Michael had shaken Miklos' spell from Sudrey, but Miklos could not shake free of Rhys Michael's. And even as he clutched at his chest, doubling over with the pain, his horse betrayed him again, this time bucking him almost clear of the saddle—except for one spurred heel that caught in the stirrup and flipped him upside down to dangle amid the flashing, steel-shod hooves.
The beast bolted at this new outrage, continuing to buck and twist as it ran. Miklos' power flared erratically as he tried gamely to twist free, arms vainly upflung to protect his head, but he went limp after only a few strides. The power died away even as Hombard galloped in to seize the animal's reins and wrench it to a halt.
Except that Hombard no longer looked like Hombard. The pale eyes now were dark, the face of an age with Miklos, the hair escaping from its soldier's knot a rich chestnut, untouched by grey. Fury animated every line of the young man's body as he leaned down far enough to hook a gloved hand in Miklos' belt and drag him up across his saddle, and the look he cast Rhys Michael was murderous.
Sudrey caught Rhys Michael's good arm and raised it toward Miklos' rescuer with one of hers, power still bright around her.
"Help me warn him off, Sire," she gasped, summoning the spell and desperately willing him to augment her failing strength. "Quick, before your men reach us."
Obedient, Rhys Michael channeled a surge of energy into her directing. Fire lanced forth to score the earth before the burdened rider, and with a look of fury he turned and galloped off toward his own lines, Miklos' limp form before him. Rhun and Manfred and a party of mounted archers were approaching fast, galloping down the slope with arrows nocked to the archers' bows, and Sudrey fell back exhausted against the king's breast, encircled by his arms.
"We have not much time," she murmured. "Listen carefully. Say that it was my power that thwarted Miklos, but I drew upon your life-force to fuel it. I was able to do this because you are a Haldane, divinely appointed to rule Gwynedd. Find a way to suggest that the power within you has nothing to do with Deryni; it comes of God. Do not let my death be in vain."
"No! You aren't going to die!"
"Sire, I am wounded in ways you cannot see," she replied, grimacing. "Far better that I die now, in the manner of my own choosing, rather than face what your great lords might inflict upon me, for having sufficient power to defeat a mage of Miklos' stature. Promise you will not let them burn me."
"I promise," Rhys Michael whispered, putting from mind the image of Dimitri's dead body burning in the yard at Saint Cassian's. "But don't go. Don't give up. I can protect you."
She closed her eyes against a twinge of pain, then looked up at him again, as the hoofbeats thundered nearer.
"I make no judgment, Sire, but you will be fortunate if you can protect yourself. God be with you. Pray for me."
This time, when she closed her eyes, she did not open them again. There was one further, fluttering breath—and then, no more. As he laid his head against her still breast, knowing he would hear no heartbeat, his own men reached him.
"What the devil happened?" Rhun demanded, pulling up beside him and jumping down from his horse, as the mounted archers swept past and formed a line between them and the Torenthi line, where a party of rangers had broken and were spurring to meet Hombard.
Rhys Michael looked up dully, Sudrey's body still hugged to his chest.
"I think they were after Sudrey from the start," he murmured. "Miklos said she had betrayed her country and her race—and then he and the other man attacked her with magic."
"Are you saying that Hombard was Deryni, too?" Manfred said, jumping down to join Rhun. "But that's impossible. We tested him."
"I don't think it was the same man," Rhys Michael said uncertainly, as he started to ease her body to the ground. "His face changed, right at the end. He somehow looked familiar. She stood up to both of them, though, and I think she killed Miklos. The other man—aiie!"
He gasped as he jostled his injured hand while trying to put her down. He had managed not to move it much during the last little while, but now, as the rush of combat slowly faded, the pain set up a throbbing that coursed all the way to his elbow.
"Where are you hurt?" Rhun asked, as Manfred seized the injured right arm and turned it from the elbow, searching for signs of injury.
Rhys Michael sucked in his breath as Manfred prodded around a jagged gash in the leather gauntlet.
"Careful!" he snapped. "One of the horses stamped his great, bloody hoof down on the back of my hand, when I was on the ground. I'm sure there must be bones broken."
"Try to move your fingers," Manfred ordered.
Rhys Michael tried, but even the effort of trying made him nauseated from the pain. Lifting the trembling hand for closer inspection, he could see that blood and dirt crusted the gash in the glove and the wound inside, which looked to go well into sinews and bone. He fought down a wave of light-headedness as he whispered, "Damn!"
"Borg, come and take a look at this," Manfred called over his shoulder to one of the archers.
But Rhun was already pulling his horse around to mount again, glancing apprehensively toward the Torenthi line, which had opened to receive the fleeing Hombard and his burden.
"No time for that now," he said. "Mount up! We may have company very shortly, if we don't get out of here. Borg, give the king your horse, then lift Lady Sudrey's body up to Lord Manfred. Move!"
As Manfred helped Rhys Michael to his feet, the archer called Borg brought his horse over and gave Rhys Michael a leg up. Vaulting up into the saddle without using his right hand was difficult, and the hand throbbed with renewed pain when the archer jarred it in passing the reins to his good hand. He tried not to think about the hand as they moved out, instead fixing his gaze on the body of Sudrey, now cradled in Manfred's arms in the saddle before him. The pain accompanied him all the way back to the Gwynedd line and beyond.
Back in Culliecairn, Marek of Festil watched without expression as three of the patriarch's bearded and black-robed priests gently removed the last of Miklos' harness, starting to wash his body and prepare it for a lying-in-state later that night in the castle's chapel. The Healer Cosim stood at his elbow, but there had been nothing he could do for Miklos; it was not alone the injuries inflicted by his horse that had killed the Torenthi prince.
Marek had not wanted to believe that. Assisted by Cosim, he himself had conducted a Death-Reading on his dead cousin, before allowing the priests to take charge of the body. Afterward, he had erased what he read. Both he and the Healer now knew that magic had been the principal cause of Miklos' death—and that the power for the spell had come not from the Deryni Sudrey but from Rhys Michael Haldane.
"My worst nightmare, Cosim," Marek murmured, when he had drawn the Healer out of the little room where Miklos lay. "No, the very worst would be to fall to the Haldane myself—or even worse than that, for my son to perish as well. But for Miklos to fall—how could the Haldane do this? How is this possible?"
Cosim cocked a cynical eyebrow. "The allegations of Haldane power are hardly new, my lord—though, I confess, I thought them unlikely to be true, given the other tales we have heard these past six years of the impotence of this Haldane before his ministers of state."
"Well, it wasn't Cousin Sudrey who did that to Miklos," Marek muttered. "I'm still not certain how it happened. I _know_ Miklos could have taken the Haldane in a proper duel arcane—or _I_ could have done. This was meant to be a testing of the waters—though we were prepared to ambush him if that opportunity presented itself. Sudrey was the real target. Miklos had been obsessed with her defection since he found out about it at Javan Haldane's coronation. And I'd _swear_ that this Rhys Haldane had no powers at that time—not even shields—though there was certainly something going on with his brother."
"Perhaps this odd Haldane power is somehow vested in Gwynedd's crown," Cosim ventured, after a short pause. "Perhaps that is why you detected nothing at the coronation, save in Javan."
Marek shrugged. "I was but young then, and we never managed to make physical contact with either Haldane brother. But how can the Haldane power be that strong? It did not save Javan Haldane from his great lords' treachery, and it has not enabled Rhys Haldane to be his own man, these six years of his reign."
"Yet it enabled him to kill my prince today," Cosim murmured.
Marek hung his head. "I must ask you not to reveal that, Cosim."
"I do not know how you can keep it a secret," the Healer replied, "or why you would wish to do so. Deryni who witnessed what took place, even from afar, are well aware that magic was afoot."
"Magic—aye. But they must believe it was Sudrey's magic that killed Miklos—an unfortunate accident. Surely his injuries would have killed him, if magic had not."
"Perhaps. But why should you wish them to believe this? Why perpetuate this uncertainty?"
"Because I do not wish his men to seek vengeance for his death at this time, riding out to fight a battle that was never intended to take place and that cannot be won under the present circumstances." Marek glanced down at his hands, then back at the Healer.
"Cosim, I hesitate to ask, but I find myself obliged to seek your further assistance. Those who can, will Truth-Read me as I speak to them."
Cosim turned his dark gaze on the younger man, searching the dark eyes. "Are you asking me to adjust your memory, my lord, so that your lies go undetected?"
"I am asking you to adjust my memory so that I can present a half truth without danger of contradiction—that it was not magic that killed Miklos. I would never attempt to claim that magic was not used. But left with the sad yet unprovocative conclusion that his death was largely due to misadventure, his men hopefully will withdraw in good order to fight another day—and for me."
Slowly Cosim nodded "I understand what you are saying, my lord," he murmured "Further, I believe my lord Miklos would have agreed." He glanced around to ensure that they were alone, then returned his gaze to Marek.
"I will set a fatigue-banishing spell as well, my lord," he murmured, lifting one hand to Marek's forehead. "Open to me..."
A quarter hour later, his energies somewhat restored by the Healer's ministrations, Marek was facing the decidedly uncomfortable duty of confirming the details of Miklos' death to his officers. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that Cosim wished to see him again after the court—the reason escaped him for the moment—but for now, Marek was content to leave the Healer alone with his grief, standing down among Miklos' other men.
He had summoned them to gather in the castle's great hall, but he did not presume to sit in the chair of state that stood at the center of the dais. Miklos had held court from there in the more carefree days while they waited for the Haldane response, and now the patriarch himself stood beside the chair, glaring at Marek from beneath his black stovepipe headdress and veil.
Summoning Valentin to his side—who grieved, too, for the death of the young man he had loved like a son—Marek moved in front of the chair, though far enough in front to make it clear he had no intention of usurping the dead man's place. Not for the first time, he was glad he had sent Charis and the baby back to Tolan some days earlier; he did not relish telling his wife of her brother's death.
And telling King Arion was an even more daunting prospect. Though the late King Nimur, Arion's father, had given sanctuary to the infant son of Imre and Ariella of Festil following the Haldane Restoration, Arion's support for his exiled cousin's cause had never been more than lukewarm, especially since his becoming king ten years ago. Indeed, without Prince Miklos' friendship and patronage, Marek might never have survived to adulthood. Much less could he have mounted this expedition—which, unfortunately, had gone so badly awry.
Marek suspected that his sufferance by the Torenthi Royal House was about to become even more precarious than it had been all his young life. While neither illegitimacy nor incest were Marek's fault, the taint might only be truly removed by success—by taking back the crown his parents had borne. With Miklos gone, that now was not likely to occur for some time. And it would never occur if Marek allowed himself to be stampeded into action prematurely.
"Gentlemen, you will have heard many rumors regarding the circumstances of the prince's death," Marek said to the assembled men, hardly daring to lift his eyes to them. "That incidental mishap should have cost my cousin his life is the supreme irony, when so much was at stake. It was not magic that killed him."
"Yet magic was used," one of the captains pointed out. "And it was you who instigated it, my lord."
"Prince Miklos instigated it against the traitor, Sudrey of Rhorau," Marek said. "And though she responded in kind, this was not unexpected. What _was_ unexpected was the Haldane's response—though we have long believed that the Haldanes do have access to a kind of power akin to our Deryni powers. Unfortunately, I still am not certain how much of the power was Sudrey's and how much was the Haldane's. The question is academic, since ultimately it was my cousin's physical injuries that killed him, but the Haldane factor will bear further investigation."
"Not in conjunction with _this_ campaign," another of the captains said. "It has already cost us our prince."
"I greatly regret that," Marek began.
"As we do, my lord," another said. "But we are not now prepared to follow you farther into Gwynedd. While our prince lived, we were obliged to go where he commanded. Our fealty returns now to the king his brother, who may not agree that Torenthi troops should lend their aid to your cause."
Marek bowed his head.
"I accept the reprimand you have not spoken, my lord," he murmured. "I count myself at least partially to blame for the death of Prince Miklos and remind you that he was my cousin and brother to my wife, as well as being brother to King Arion. I do not look forward to answering to either of these worthies when I must tell them of his death.
"As for venturing farther into Gwynedd at this time, I assure you that it was never Prince Miklos' intention, this time around, to commit Torenthi troops to any major incursion into Gwynedd. I will respect that intention and will not even suggest that you should go against it."
He waited for their sullen rumble of agreement to die down, sensing that the critical decision was past.
"Practicalities yet remain," he said, when he again had their attention. "With the concurrence of his Highness' senior officers, I intend that we shall begin withdrawal from Culliecairn at dawn, banners flying and drums beating. I shall have the appropriate notifications drawn up and sent to the Gwynedd camp within the hour. Meanwhile, I shall personally keep vigil beside my cousin's body through the night. Those who wish to do the same are invited to join me."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For gold is tried in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity.
—Ecclesiasticus 2:5
The Kheldour commanders met the king's party as they rejoined the Gwynedd line, anxious and agitated to learn of Sudrey's death. Corban was detailed to take her body back to Lochalyn and her daughter; Sighere and Graham remained. It was clear they did not blame Rhys Michael for what had happened—Sudrey had known at least some of the danger—but the king felt a grief akin to their own as he continued numbly on toward the Gwynedd camp.
"Exactly what happened out there?" Rhun demanded, riding at his knee. He kept glancing back over his shoulder at the distant Torenth line, now in obvious agitation, anxious lest the fall of Miklos provoke a Torenthi attack. Manfred was on the king's other side, Cathan and Fulk now following with Sighere and Graham. A score of _Custodes_ knights had replaced the archers and rode close all around them.
"Miklos broke the trace, just as you said he would, but for different reasons than we feared," Rhys Michael said. "I don't think it's appropriate that I go into details right now. Let's see if his men are going to respect the truce or attack us."
The reasoning seemed to satisfy Rhun for the moment—and gave Rhys Michael a chance to think about what he was going to tell the earl marshal when the inevitable reckoning came. He cradled his injured hand to his breast as they rode, for the initial shock of the injury was wearing off, and the hand had begun to throb.
They drew up on a rise just outside the Gwynedd camp to await a Torenthi response. None came. After nearly an hour of watching and waiting and weighing the military factors, Rhun and his commanders decided that, with darkness coming on, an immediate attack was not likely. Leaving Joshua Delacroix in command at the perimeter, Rhun men escorted the king back to the command tent, accompanied by Manfred, Sighere, Graham, and the king's aides. Master Stevanus had been pacing back and forth before the tent, having been informed of the king's injury, and now came to take his royal patient in charge.
"Let's go inside and have a look at that," he said, as the king swung a leg over his horse and gently eased to the ground, trying not to jar his hand.
The king followed meekly into the command tent and sat where he was directed, on the edge of a camp bed. Father Lior was already there and waiting. As Stevanus came to crouch beside the king and began prodding at the gash in the red leather gauntlet, bidding Fulk to bring a rack of candles nearer, Rhun and Lior came to hover like two predatory vultures. Cathan knelt unobtrusively to unbuckle the king's spurs—and also stay close in case of need. Manfred remained near the entrance with Sighere and Graham, now anticipating a message instead of an attack from the Torenthi.
"Now, what the devil happened out there?" Rhun demanded. "You said Miklos broke the truce."
"He seemed ready to pull out—though we hadn't yet gotten to his terms," Rhys Michael said, wincing at Stevanus' ministrations. "Then he attacked Lady Sudrey with magic. In retrospect, I'm sure that's why he was so keen to have her come along. He felt she'd betrayed her family and her race by marrying Eastmarch. When some of the magic started spilling over to me, she interposed herself to protect me. She gave her life in my defense."
"I shouldn't have thought she was strong enough to stand against a Deryni like Miklos," Lior said. "You almost looked as if you were involved in it, too."
Rhys Michael gasped and tried to pull away as Stevanus attempted to straighten out his shattered fingers.
"I—don't remember that part very clearly," he managed to whisper. "I—think she somehow—pulled energy from me, to give her more power against him. He was still too much for her, though. If his horse hadn't exploded, he might well have—aiie!"
"Sorry," Stevanus murmured. "Lord Rhun, I'm going to have to ask you to continue this conversation after I've dealt with his hand. There's already a great deal of swelling. I'm going to have to cut away the gauntlet before I can even begin to assess the damage. Cathan, pour his Highness a double dose of syrup of poppies, would you? This isn't going to be pleasant."
Clearly unsatisfied, Rhun withdrew to the entrance of the command tent as Stevanus set to work, consulting in low tones with Manfred, Sighere, and Graham, though Lior remained to watch. Rhys Michael's first glimpse of the purpling flesh and the blood and dirt-caked laceration convinced him that he would rather have been almost anywhere than where he was, though he drank down only half the painkiller Cathan brought him.
"I'd rather not take too much of this until we know how Torenth is going to react," he said to Stevanus, as he handed back the cup, sucking in breath through clenched teeth as the surgeon's probing shifted broken bones.
"Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you. Once we get this clean, it's going to want suturing before I try to set it. How well it will ever hold a sword again remains to be seen."
"If I must, I'll learn to fight left-handed. Just get on with it."
Fulk went to fetch towels and a basin of warm water, and Stevanus set about assembling splints and bandages and other necessaries. Cathan helped the king shed his brigandine and the close-fitting leather tunic underneath, for it became clear that the narrow sleeves would not allow removal once the hand was bandaged. Even without bandages, the movement necessary to ease the hand through the sleeve was excruciating. Rhys Michael was shivering in after-reaction as he eased back against a stack of pillows and gladly let Cathan help shift his booted feet up onto the bed. Baring his torso had also revealed several substantial bruises forming, though he had not been aware of being struck at the time.
Very shortly, Fulk brought the warm water, setting the basin on a low table at Rhys Michael's side so he could immerse his hand. The warmth was somewhat soothing initially—but only until Stevanus began cleaning away the blood and dirt from his wound.
He tried to distance himself from the discomfort. Laying his good arm across his closed eyes, he attempted to set the pain aside and let himself float. As he gradually began to feel the effects of the painkiller and relax a little, he let his thoughts rove back over the events of the past several hours—and suddenly recalled where he had seen the face that replaced that of Hombard, out on the field. He wondered whether Rhun and the others had noticed the change.
"Rhun, the man we thought was Hombard was Deryni," he said, opening his eyes to search for the earl marshal, who turned at his words. "He may even have been Marek of Festil."
"That's impossible," Rhun said, coming over to him. "He was far too old. Besides, we tested him with _merasha._ "
"No, we tested the _first_ man," Rhys Michael pointed out. "The man who rode out with Miklos _looked_ like the man we tested—and I had no reason, at the time, to doubt it—but his face changed while Miklos and Sudrey were throwing around all that magic, and he tried to join in. Things were happening very quickly, but I'd swear he was the same man who came to Javan's coronation as Miklos' aide. Is it possible that could have been Marek, in both instances?"
Rhun pulled a camp stool to the left side of the bed and sat, as the others also drew closer to listen.
"It can't have been Marek," Rhun murmured. "Not even Miklos would have had the audacity to bring the Festillic Pretender to the coronation of his chief rival."
"So one would think," Rhys Michael said, glad for the distraction as Stevanus removed his hand from the basin and laid it dripping on a clean towel. "But, how better to evaluate the opposition? And how would _we_ have known? I should think that by now it's clear that Miklos had the audacity to try just about anything he chose. Has anyone ever _seen_ Marek of Festil?"
"I once saw a portrait of his father, King Imre, at one of the Order's abbeys," Father Lior ventured. "One would expect at least a family resemblance, especially given the mother."
"Describe the man in the portrait," Rhun ordered, turning to look at the priest.
Lior frowned, casting back in memory. "Slender—not a very large man, I shouldn't think. Very fair skin, but dark hair to his shoulders. Fine features: a thin face, a straight, elegant nose, slightly protruding eyes—dark brown, they were. I would have to say that the expression was a bit insipid-looking, though."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes, trying to ignore the bite of Stevanus' needle as the surgeon began setting sutures, for the image Lior had conjured coincided very closely with the face he had glimpsed on the field—and the face of Miklos' aide at the coronation, neither of which Lior had ever seen. Could he really have come face-to-face with Marek of Festil and not known it—and not once but twice?
"You've certainly described the man who came to the coronation with Miklos," Rhun said to the priest, confirming at least that part of Rhys Michael's impression. "By God, I suppose he _could_ have been Imre's son."
"He has also described the man I saw today," Rhys Michael said. He winced as Stevanus' needle bit again. "With both Marek and Miklos ranged against her, Lady Sudrey's defense is all the more remarkable. And we have Divine Providence to thank for—"
He broke off as Lord Joshua Delacroix came into the tent and handed a wax-sealed packet to Rhun.
"This just came in, my lord," Joshua said. "A herald brought it I suspect they didn't think we'd believe a white flag."
Manfred came to look over Rhun's shoulder as the earl marshal hurriedly broke the seals and unfolded the single sheet of parchment.
"'Prince Marek of Festil, rightful King of Gwynedd, unto the Haldane usurper,'" Rhun read aloud. "'Know that I hold you personally responsible for the death of my well-beloved cousin and brother-in-law, the Prince Miklos of Torenth. Be assured that further communication will be forthcoming from the king his brother.
"'In order to provide a fitting escort for my cousin's body, I shall begin an immediate withdrawal of the troops formerly under his command, commencing at dawn. No interference in this withdrawal will be tolerated. While the present circumstances have obliged me to decline further confrontation at this time, be assured that I shall continue to press my claim to what is mine. I now know your measure and will take appropriate steps to utterly destroy you.' Signed Marek _Princeps_."
"Insolent puppy," Manfred growled, reaching for the missive. "Let me see that letter."
Rhun shrugged and handed it over. "Yes, well. If he's pulling out of Culliecairn, slinking home with his tail between his legs, we've at least won this round. Later on, Arion may try to make life difficult, but we'll worry about that if it happens. At least we seem to have averted this particular battle. Joshua, we'd better set patrols to keep an eye on things through the night and to monitor the withdrawal. I'm sure my lords of Claibourne and Marley will oblige by providing scouts with local expertise." Sighere and Graham nodded. "Manfred, what do you think about pickets?"
As they withdrew to the other side of the tent to discuss logistic considerations, Stevanus finished his suturing and set about the more delicate and painful task of easing shattered bones back into place. Even with the thick piece of leather Cathan gave him to bite down on, and Cathan himself to help hold the arm steady for the surgeon's work, it was all Rhys Michael could do to stay still and not cry out. He was exhausted and drenched with perspiration by the time Stevanus finished, with bandages immobilizing his wrist along a flat length of wood that extended down the forearm and into the palm, curving the shattered fingers around its end and closing the hand in an approximation of gripping a sword.
"I wish I could tell you that there won't be any impairment of movement," Stevanus said, plucking the bit of leather from between the king's teeth. "The hand has a lot of bones, most of them fairly fragile, none of which are improved by having a horse step on them. Don't be surprised if some bone splinters work their way to the surface during the healing process. I've done my best for you, but I'm not a Deryni Healer."
As the battle surgeon set about rigging a sling to support the arm, Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly and considered his next move. He had not reckoned on becoming injured; it put him far more at the mercy of the great lords and those who served them. What he was contemplating carried some risks, but there probably was not going to be a better time. The great lords had left the tent during the process of setting the hand, unsettled by his silent endurance, and only Cathan and Fulk remained in attendance with Stevanus.
"Maybe we'd be better off if we still had Healers around," the king murmured. "I'd certainly welcome one, right about now."
Stevanus gave him a fleeting, uncomfortable smile as he tucked the end of a bandage in place. "If we could trust one not to do other things besides heal, so would I," he replied. "But you saw today how the Deryni keep their word."
As Stevanus turned away to top up the dose of painkiller the king had not finished earlier, Rhys Michael sent a quick summons to Cathan, who came to help him as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. At the same time, he advised Cathan of what he intended. Nodding, Cathan laid a mantle around his bare shoulders, then casually rejoined Fulk as Stevanus turned back, the little metal cup in his hand again.
"This should help you sleep through the night," Stevanus said. "The hand is going to throb for the first few days—maybe longer—but you should feel better after a good night's sleep. You look totally knackered right now, and small wonder."
Declining to take the cup himself, for even his good hand was none too steady, Rhys Michael nodded and set his hand on Stevanus', helping guide the cup to his lips. He drank deeply, but then he used the bond of flesh to seize control. The surgeon shuddered but could not resist, his eyes closing. Cathan had touched Fulk at the same moment and the aide stood likewise entranced.
"Stevanus, listen very carefully," Rhys Michael murmured, closing his good hand more securely around Stevanus' and drawing the surgeon nearer to crouch at his feet. "From this point on, regardless of what other orders you may receive, and from whom, my orders will take precedence. You will never reveal that I have given you these orders, but all your actions will be focused toward preserving me in life and health. Under no circumstances will you ever give me _merasha_ ; if you are ordered to do so by one of the great lords, you will pretend to comply, but will give me some other drug with a similar effect. Nod your head if you understand."
Stevanus' head nodded once in agreement.
"Good. Now, how long will the effects of this last, if I drink it all?"
"Only through the night, Sire, though it will be a heavy sleep."
Nodding, Rhys Michael drained the remainder of the cup, then brought the surgeon back to his feet and released his hand.
"That sounds just about right," he said, easing out of the link. "I don't know what will have happened by morning, but I need to be able to ride at the head of my troops, if necessary. It's important that the men see that I'm still alive and unharmed. Well, relatively unharmed." He jutted his chin toward his bandaged hand as he got shakily to his feet, leaning heavily on Stevanus' arm.
"Sometime tomorrow, I'll also need to pay a courtesy call on Lady Stacia. She's now given both her parents in my service, and I owe her the respect of my presence at her mother's funeral; I expect it will be the day after tomorrow. Before I leave, I'll also confirm her and her husband in the Eastmarch titles, since I'm here. It makes no sense for them to come all the way back to Rhemuth, especially if this border area is apt to stay a bit unstable for a while."
"You'll have to take up the scheduling with Lord Rhun, Sire, but the physical demands don't sound too difficult," Stevanus agreed. "Jostling that hand won't be comfortable, but you'll find that out the first time you do it."
Rhys Michael stifled a yawn as he hugged the hand closer to his chest. "I'm already well aware of that, Stevanus. It is hardly one of the great mysteries of life."
Stevanus chuckled. "I'll come along to help see you settled in your own bed, Sire. It wouldn't do to have you fall on the way back to your tent and have the men think you're hurt worse than you are—or drunk."
In the gathering darkness outside the command tent, three men in the rough tweeds of the Eastmarch borders watched from the shadows as the king emerged on the arm of the battle surgeon called Stevanus, also accompanied by his aides. Though a mantle was thrown around the royal shoulders, mostly covering his naked torso, the right hand and forearm were bandaged almost to the elbow and supported by a sling. He kept the arm close to his body as he walked, his balance steadied against the surgeon's arm, face taut and pale in the torchlight brought by the pair of guards who fell into step around him.
That they were bound for the king's tent was almost certain. He did not appear to be in custody. Exchanging silent agreement, the watching three separated to skirt ahead along the route they expected the royal party to take, observing the royal progress, keeping their passage as unobtrusive as possible. As king, surgeon, and aides disappeared inside the tent that served as royal residence in the field, with the Haldane standard stirring lazily in the evening breeze before it, the three joined up again, staying well back from the clear area in front of the royal tent and the sentries guarding it.
The tent itself was altogether too well guarded, as it had been since the arrival of the royal troops, with torches set around it and _Custodes_ knights detailed to walk its perimeter, always within sight of one another. When the surgeon alone emerged, a few minutes later, the three watched in silence until he had disappeared in the direction of the command tent with the soldiers who had escorted him, then melted away into the darkness themselves.
Later, in their own tent, where loyal retainers could ensure their privacy, the three huddled together to compare impressions regarding the events of the afternoon and evening.
"His injury may or may not be serious," Ansel murmured, as the other two bent to listen. "He didn't look too bad when he rode in."
"Speaking from a Healer's perspective, he looked shocky to me," Tieg whispered. "I don't know what happened to his hand, but Stevanus was a long time about whatever he had to do to it, even allowing for being human."
"I questioned one of the archers on that point, after I'd Read his account of all the magic flying around," Jesse said. "He thought a horse might have stepped on the hand. How seriously remains to be seen. The man didn't see much sign of bleeding, but that isn't necessarily good."
"True enough," Ansel agreed. "If he did get stepped on, then it could be anything from a bad bruise to badly broken bones. That's his sword hand, too."
Tieg snorted. "It doesn't much matter which hand it is, pain-wise. It's going to slow him down."
"Don't even think about trying to sneak in and help him," Ansel said, looking at him sharply. "At least right now, until we know more, we can't afford to risk losing you."
Tieg looked a little sullen, but could not disagree with the logic.
"Right, then," Ansel murmured. "I think we'd better let Joram know what's happened. This has all taken a turn that I don't think anyone expected—least of all, the king. I don't know how much of what went on out there was his doing, but Sudrey ended up dead, and probably Miklos as well. I also don't know what kinds of questions Rhun has already asked, but I hope to God that the king has answers."
Jesse nodded. "Well, I don't think he's going to be having answers to much of anything else tonight. If Stevanus had to set broken bones, he's probably given him a stiff sedative and painkiller—which would account for his somewhat unsteady movements. Do you want to notify Joram, or shall I?"
"I'll do it," Ansel said. "And let's do put a watch on his tent through the night, just in case. After that, you'd better turn in—both of you. I think we've learned about all we can without interviewing some of the principals—which isn't going to be possible—and it's getting too late to be out and about in the camp without arousing suspicion."
"Agreed," Jesse murmured, and took his leave to go and set up the desired surveillance. Tieg, though none too happy with the arrangement, retired to the doorway of the tent to sit as guardian while Ansel shifted over to his bedroll and stretched out, starting to compose himself to reach out for the contact with Joram.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Who will bring me into the strong city?
—Psalms 60:9
Rhys Michael Haldane knew nothing of the efforts expended in his behalf that night. Soon oblivious, thanks to Stevanus' drug, he dreamed deep, disturbing dreams that he could not remember upon awakening—though at least he did sleep pain-free through the night, as the surgeon had promised.
The sounds of the awakening camp and the throb of his hand woke him a little after dawn, with a dull headache behind his eyes, a foul-tasting mouth, and a ferocious thirst Cathan was asleep in a chair beside his camp bed, and Fulk had brought hot water for morning ablutions—and ale to quell the thirst. He felt a little better once he had drunk it down, but his whole body ached.
He was appalled to discover how helpless he was, with the use of only one hand, and found himself obliged to suffer the ministrations of both his aides to help him wash and dress. Since no one had come to tell him otherwise, he decided that armor might not be necessary, at least for the moment, and bade them help him don a full-sleeved linen tunic over leather breeches and boots. Stevanus came in just as Cathan was attempting to readjust the sling that supported his right arm, so the king enlisted his assistance. The hand was throbbing in time with his pulse beat, but Stevanus advised against another dose of the syrup of poppies until after he had eaten. The king had Cathan put a light cloak on him, fastening it at the shoulder with the Haldane brooch, and drew part of it over the sling before heading over to the command tent for the morning briefing.
Welcome news greeted him when he met his great lords over a substantial breakfast. No incidents had marred the night's peace, and true to Marek's missive of the night before, Torenthi troops had begun to ride out of Culliecairn at first light. The long column of them now stretched far up the Coldoire Pass to disappear into the steppes of Tolan. There had been no further Torenthi communication.
"Some of Sighere's scouts saw what they believed to have been Prince Miklos' funeral cortege leaving with the first outriders, just at dawn," Manfred told him. "There were several horse litters and an ecclesiastical contingent that probably was the patriarch's party. The last of the troops should clear by midafternoon, so that we can go and inspect the city."
Meanwhile, Marley and Eastmarch skirmish parties were observing the Torenthi line of retreat, dogging their heels, prepared to encourage stragglers. After breakfast, Rhun and Manfred rode out with Corban and another of the Eastmarch commanders to oversee, along with Lord Joshua and the principal _Custodes_ captains. The king was left in the charge of Father Lior and Master Stevanus, with reluctant permission to ride to Lochalyn and pay his respects to the castle's new mistress. To his disgust, Lior insisted upon bringing along a _Custodes_ escort, including the detested Gallard de Breffni.
On the short ride up to Lochalyn, with the pain of his hand throbbing up his arm with every jolting step, Rhys Michael racked his brain for an excuse to shake his keepers and speak privately with Stacia. A ghost of a plan was taking shape in his mind, but it would come to naught without the support of the Kheldour lords.
To his surprise and relief, he found the Duke of Claibourne's banner flying alongside that of Eastmarch as they rode beneath the gatehouse arch, with at least a dozen dour Claibourne men drawn up in a guard of honor outside the castle's chapel. Gallard de Breffni's brusque condescension proved to be his undoing—and Rhys Michael's salvation—for when Gallard attempted to send his _Custodes_ in to supplant the duke's men, ordering the borderers aside for the king to pass, Rhys Michael had to intervene before indignation and verbal resistance escalated into armed conflict. Following on the heels of such evenhanded mediation, his courteous request to present his condolences privately to the bereaved countess enlisted the immediate support of the duke's men, who made it abundantly clear to Gallard, Lior, and their _Custodes_ companions that the king might enter, but none other.
"I think it might be politic if you took your men up to the hall for some refreshment, my lord," he told the angry Gallard. "Perhaps some wine will cool hot tempers. I should hate to see our Kheldish hosts offended over so trifling an issue."
When Lior would have tried to stay behind, Rhys Michael put him in his place as well.
"Please go with Lord Gallard, Father. I may be some little while. Cathan and Fulk will wait here for me—and Master Stevanus, if you wish. Lady Stacia's mother gave her life in my service yesterday. The least I can do is to offer my condolences and spend a time in prayer with her."
It was the sort of pious justification to which even Lior could hardly take exception. Not giving the _Custodes_ priest a chance to find one, Rhys Michael turned and went into the chapel.
The faint scent of incense and beeswax hung on the air as he quietly closed the door behind him and moved down the center of the tiny nave, accompanied by the faint jingle of his spurs. The open coffin was set on hurdles on a rich Kheldish carpet just before the altar, guarded by six thick, honey-colored candles on tall candlesticks. A proud, straight-backed figure gowned and coiffed in black sat at the coffin's head, her back to the door. Young Claibourne was kneeling at the altar rail directly left of the coffin, face in his hands and huddled down in a mantle of grey border tweed. He glanced back at the sound of the king's approach and would have risen in surprised respect, but Rhys Michael waved him back to his knees as he paused to bow to the altar and then passed to the coffin's right.
His unexpected presence elicited a tiny gasp from Stacia, who had her infant son on her lap. Her pretty face was pinched and pale against the black veil binding the fiery hair, all her vitality drained away in the wake of this new grief. Beyond her in the open coffin, her mother lay wrapped in a cocoon of fine blue border tweed, face lightly shrouded by a veil of white lawn.
Rhys Michael crossed himself awkwardly with his bandaged hand and sank to his knees beside the coffin, steadying himself against its edge with his good hand as he bowed his head. It was he who was responsible for Stacia's bereavement—both father and mother lost in the space of less than a fortnight, and in his service. When he had knelt here with Sudrey, not three days before, he had never dreamed that he would cause her so soon to lie at the side of the loyal Hrorik, whose body lay beneath the very floor where her coffin rested.
As he had on his ride from the Gwynedd encampment, he found himself reliving the events of the day before, well aware that he might not have survived without her help—and that _she_ might still be alive, had it not been for him. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, whether she really would have died from her injuries, had she not chosen to hasten the process with her own magic—and whether he dared ask the help of her kin.
After offering a prayer for the soul of Sudrey of Eastmarch, and for divine mercy on Deryni in general, he got awkwardly to his feet and gently drew aside the veil of white lawn to press a respectful kiss to her forehead. He made himself draw a deep, steadying breath as he let the veil fall back in place and turned to face her daughter and her nephew. Young Claibourne had gotten to his feet as the king rose, and both his face and Stacia's were unreadable.
"Sudrey of Eastmarch was a very great lady," the king said softly. "Would that I had had the opportunity to know her better."
Claibourne glanced at his cousin a little uncertainly, then back at the king.
"If the King's Grace were more inclined to visit his northern provinces, he would hae had such opportunity," the duke said, though his tone conveyed no hint of disapproval. "E'en so, she kept faith with yer Royal House."
Rhys Michael cradled his aching arm in his good one, absently kneading at the stiff muscles along the forearm.
"Had it been wholly in my choice," he said quietly, "I would have come. Of all the great lords of Gwynedd, none have served my House half so well as the sons and grandsons of Sighere of Kheldour—and this daughter by marriage," he added, nodding toward Sudrey's coffin. "Claibourne, Eastmarch, and Marley—these are the brightest jewels in my crown."
"If they be yer brightest jewels, then why did ye no come?" Stacia asked. "Are ye no the king? Whose choice was't, if not yours?"
Rhys Michael glanced at her bleakly, wondering how much of the truth he dared to tell them—and set to Truth-Read them. With Rhun and the others off on other business, this might be a unique opportunity to sound out the loyalties of Kheldour. Graham and Stacia were of an age with himself, of a younger generation than had spawned the great lords who ruled in Gwynedd, and Graham's father had been murdered through the great lords' treachery. Perhaps Kheldour could become the source of military strength Rhys Michael would need to take back control of his crown. But he would never know, if he did not ask.
He glanced back at the church door, still closed, then moved closer to the pair, drawing Graham with him to kneel at Stacia's feet.
"Please listen closely, because I may not have much time," he murmured. "If any of my men should enter besides my light-haired aide, we are praying together for Sudrey's soul. The great lords have gone to elaborate lengths to conceal it, but believe me when I tell you that I have been a prisoner for these six years of my reign, ever since they arranged for the murder of my brother and seized control of Rhemuth."
"The murder—" Graham began. "Ye mean, King Javan?"
Rhys Michael nodded.
"But, they said that renegade Michaelines—"
"It wasn't renegade Michaelines," Rhys Michael said softly. "His own great lords betrayed him. And that same day that Javan was killed, probably at the very same hour, Archbishop Hubert and others took me prisoner in Rhemuth Castle. They drugged me and forced me to watch while they slaughtered the few men still loyal to Javan. The shock made my wife miscarry of what would have been our firstborn son."
"Dear holy Mother," Stacia whispered, wide-eyed, clutching her own son more closely to her breast "But, _why_?"
"To retain their power, of course. Javan was proving to be too powerful a king. They'd meant to pass over him in my favor. They'd hoped to keep him in the monastery and shunt him off into a harmless religious vocation. They didn't realize that he himself had sought out the monastery as a place to grow to manhood in safety, while he also gained the education he would need to rule. He never intended to be a monk. Weren't you surprised when you heard that Alroy was dead, and it was Javan to be crowned, not me?"
"Well, aye," Graham admitted. "But you didnae seem upset by it, when we came tae Rhemuth fer his coronation."
"Of course I wasn't. Javan was always supposed to be king after Alroy. Knowing what befell your father, Graham, believe me when I tell you that the great lords have stopped at nothing to retain the power they seized after my father's death. All during my brother Alroy's reign, even once the legitimate regency had ended, he was kept drugged to ensure his compliance, and the great lords actually ruled."
"D'ye think my father found out, an' that's why they killed him?" Graham asked, horrified.
"If he didn't know, he would have found out, if he'd spent much time at Court," Rhys Michael replied. "And I'm convinced that the only reason you remained safe was because your uncles were quick enough to uphold your rights and then smart enough to pull back to the fastness of the borders and the Kheldour highlands, where the regents dared not come. As long as none of you tried to interfere in Rhemuth, they were content to let you remain unmolested in the north; but you saw how savagely Murdoch went after Hrorik, when you came to Javan's coronation."
"But, they all swore Javan allegiance, before God an' on holy relics," Graham murmured. "I was there; I heard them do it!"
"Aye, and they were forsworn within the year," Rhys Michael replied. "Javan saw the danger from the beginning and tried to warn me, but I didn't want to see. As he began gaining strength, they began trying to undermine him. They were very good at it. Both Hubert and Manfred secretly encouraged me to marry, even though Javan warned me of the danger, if there were minor heirs while the great lords still had such power. I didn't believe him—I didn't _want_ to believe him, because I really do love Michaela—but I agreed to back off.
"When it became clear that I wasn't going to go against my brother, they had me kidnapped by 'Ansel MacRorie' and 'renegade Michaelines,' then had me 'rescued' by Manfred's men. They even arranged some convincing injuries in the process—and there I was, 'safe' in Manfred's castle to recover, and with Michaela conveniently there to nurse me back to health. She didn't know they were using her, of course. We both believed it was all real at the time, and we let the circumstances carry us right into marriage. Once Michaela was pregnant, it was only a matter of time before they set up Javan's murder."
Graham was still shaking his head slightly. "I cannae believe they would murder an anointed king," he whispered. "I mean, I dinnae doubt yer word, Sire, but—"
Rhys Michael glanced back at the door, then returned his gaze to Graham. "I understand," he said. "I didn't want to believe it either, at first. There's worse, too. Once Javan was dead, they kept me drugged until after my coronation, the way they'd done with Alroy. And once Michaela had recovered from her miscarriage, they—ordered us to start producing Haldane heirs."
"They ordered—" Stacia began. "But, ye cannae _order_ someone tae do that."
Rhys Michael allowed himself a bitter smile. "To survive, and to ensure the survival of one's line, one learns to be far more flexible than you can possibly imagine, my lady," he said softly. "We delayed as long as we dared, but the ultimate threat was that if _I_ didn't impregnate my wife, there were willing volunteers waiting in the wings to ensure that the job got done—and who would have known? Neither of us were ever allowed unsupervised contact with the outside world. From the time Alroy died, the eventual aim has been to secure the succession and then eliminate both Javan and me—which would give them another long regency in which to further entrench their power.
"They've got one heir now, and they'll have another after the first of the year. I expect I'm living on borrowed time. By the time my sons come of age, the authority of the crown will be so thoroughly bound up in the hands of Gwynedd's great lords that they won't even know it could be any other way. Unless... listen carefully," Rhys Michael said, drawing the two close. "I have a plan."
Stacia dared to lay a hand on his—cautious, tentative, sympathetic.
"Ye—dinnae sound like ye expect to get back to Rhemuth alive, Sire."
He shrugged. "Rhun probably would just as soon I'd died yesterday with Sudrey. It would have made life a great deal less complicated for him and the other great lords—though at least there're three fewer of them than when we rode out of Rhemuth."
Graham nodded, tight-jawed. "We'll no miss the likes o' Paulin an' Albertus," he muttered. " _Custodes_ bastards! But—how can we help? Wha' can we do fer ye?"
Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly in relief. "Do you mean that?" he whispered.
"Of course I do," Graham replied. "The Haldanes have always been friends o' my House. It wasnae Haldane treachery that slew my father. I know my uncle Sighere would agree, too. How can we help?"
Rhys Michael swallowed with difficulty and touched his good hand to Graham's. "Now that you've offered, I'm—not sure. I'd hoped for your support, but I haven't had much time to work through the details. Eventually, I may need military support, but for now—" He raised an eyebrow in sudden inspiration. "Would you and Sighere agree to be appointed regents for my son, if anything should happen to me before he comes of age?"
"Regents? Aye, whate'er ye wish, Sire." Graham paused a beat. "Are ye sure?"
"Oh, I am. The more I think about it, the surer I am. I know that neither of you could afford to neglect your own duties to be at Court all the time, but maybe you could take turns in Rhemuth. A regency council is already specified in my will; they made me sign what they wanted, years ago. But now that Paulin and Albertus are out of the running, they'll at least have to draw up a codicil. Maybe I could draft a codicil of my own before I leave; could you get me a local priest to witness it? And I'd try to set it up so that the other regents couldn't boot out either of you, the way they did with Duke Ewan and with Bishop Alister. If both of them had remained regents, the way my father wanted, Javan probably would still be alive and—"
He broke off as the door rattled behind them—Cathan's warning that they might be about to lose their privacy—and got to his feet.
"All right, we've got to make this quick," he murmured. "I don't know how long Cathan can hold off whoever's out there. Now, Rhun already knows I won't leave until after Lady Sudrey's funeral; try to delay that as late in the day as possible, so that by the time we've held court, he can't possibly try to leave before the next morning. I'd also like to move back to quarters here in the castle—tonight. There's no privacy at all in the camp, and it's going to take Cathan most of a night to draw up the document and make the necessary copies. Graham, I'll ask you to brief your uncle and line up that priest." He drew a breath and shifted his gaze to Stacia, who was hanging on his every word.
"My lady, I haven't forgotten you. By statute, I can't appoint a woman as regent who isn't of the Royal Family, but I'll be making a formal acknowledgment of you and your husband as the new Earl and Countess of Eastmarch, and taking your oaths of fealty. It will fall upon the two of you to help keep the peace here in the north, when Graham or Sighere or both are needed for extended duty in the capital."
"I understand, Sire. Ye have my support nonetheless—an' that o' my lord."
"Thank you. One last thing. Graham, it won't be possible for all of us actually to sign the documents in one another's presence—that's why it's essential that we have a good man as witness. However, as a sign of your approval and support of Stacia and Corban here in Kheldour, it wouldn't be inappropriate for you and Sighere to offer me reaffirmation of the oaths you swore at my coronation, once they're invested. We could agree among us privately that this also serves as a public affirmation of taking on potential regents' duty, and so specify in the document."
Graham nodded, wide-eyed.
"And that," Rhys Michael said, kneeling down at the altar rail on her other side, "is about all we have time for today. I suggest we all pray."
He had time to bow his head into his good hand before the door rattled behind him again and then opened. It was the Earl of Kierney who had come to fetch him—Iver MacInnis, Manfred's son, fully harnessed and armed for the field as he came striding down the little nave.
"Culliecairn's vacant, Sire," he said, including Graham and Stacia in his nod of address, as Cathan also appeared in the doorway. "The last of the Torenthi troops disappeared up the Coldoire Pass about an hour ago. My father says that if your hand isn't giving you too much discomfort, you might want to ride up and have a look. Lord Corban has already begun investing the castle with Eastmarch troops. You could even stay in Culliecairn tonight, if you wish."
Relieved that Iver seemed to be offering a choice, Rhys Michael got to his feet. His hand was throbbing again, but he knew he must not let that slow him down.
"I'll concede that the thought of a proper bed is appealing, after camp last night," he said, "but I've already accepted Lady Stacia's kind invitation to stay here, as a mark of respect for her mother. It's also occurred to me that we'll need to arrange for a formal court tomorrow; immediately after the funeral would probably be best. I'll want to invest the new Earl and Countess of Eastmarch and take their oaths of fealty."
To his surprise, Iver agreed. "I believe Lord Rhun had already intended something of the sort, Sire. Did you wish to ride up anyway? We can be back before dusk."
Rhys Michael nodded, cradling the arm again. "The hand hurts, but I expected that it would. It's about time for more of Master Stevanus' painkiller. He tells me that tomorrow is apt to be the worst."
"My sympathies," Iver said, and actually meant it. "If you're ready, then, we ought to go."
After taking his leave of Stacia and Graham, Rhys Michael rode back to the Gwynedd camp with Iver and Lior and his _Custodes_ escort. While Cathan and Fulk helped him arm—for he must look fit, even if he felt as if his whole body had been trampled, not just his hand—he managed to pass on to Cathan what was required in the way of documents. Since they had known of Hrorik's death before leaving Rhemuth, Cathan had been working en route to draw up the letters patent confirming Stacia and her husband as Earl and Countess of Eastmarch. Sudrey's death necessitated slight changes to the document—which provided perfect cover for Cathan to remain behind and also draft the codicil naming Graham and his uncle to any future regency.
"Consider the wording carefully," he murmured, as Cathan tightened down the buckles on the red brigandine. "It has to be unbreakable, and it has to stand up to the new will that I'll be forced to sign when we return. This may be the best hope yet, to at least help safeguard my sons, if anything happens to me."
He let Stevanus give him another half dose of the syrup of poppies before they rode out, and tried to set his mind against the pain that the drug could not control as he, Fulk, and Iver rode up to Culliecairn with a small escort to inspect the fruits of their past day's work.
In Rhemuth, while Rhys Michael rode toward Culliecairn, Queen Michaela gained her first inkling of some of those fruits as she strolled in the castle gardens with Rhysel. Earlier, they had taken advantage of the fine, sunny day to wash the queen's hair. Rather than remain cooped up in the solar with too many chattering ladies, Michaela decided to let it dry while she walked in the perfumed open air of the garden. She hummed snatches of a court tune as she paused to cut red roses climbing up a white-painted trellis, laying the blooms in a flat basket that Rhysel carried on her arm. The sun had kissed her face and hands with color, also lending highlights to her hair, which spilled past her hips in a fragrant cloud of wheaten glory.
After glancing around the garden with apparent indifference, Rhysel briefly closed her fingers round a handful of the tawny hair, then gestured toward a garden seat under the trellising.
"You're getting dry. Why don't you let me comb this again?"
Not thinking anything of the request, Michaela moved obediently under the trellising and sat down, closing her eyes as Rhysel set aside the basket and began gently combing through the damp tresses.
"Don't react, in case we're watched, but I heard from Joram last night," Rhysel murmured. "Culliecairn is resolved, and Prince Miklos is dead. So, unfortunately, is Sudrey of Eastmarch. She was Deryni, you know."
Michaela felt a cold claw clench at her insides, for Rhysel had not mentioned Rhysem, but she forced herself to keep her eyes closed as Rhysel kept combing, hoping nothing showed on her face.
"What about Rhysem?" she whispered.
"He's safe for the moment," Rhysel replied. "He had some kind of injury to his hand, but it doesn't appear to be too serious. What's potentially far more dangerous is that apparently there was a good deal of magic afoot when the king met Miklos. He'd taken Lady Sudrey with him, and most witnesses seem to think it was her magic that clashed with Miklos', but she wasn't thought to have that much power. Of course, no one really knew, because she put aside whatever she had when she took a human husband, and that's been twenty years ago."
"How—" Michaela had to pause to swallow before she could go on. "How did this meeting come to pass? I shouldn't have thought Rhun would let Rhysem meet Miklos face-to-face."
Rhysel shrugged and kept combing. "I can't tell you that Joram had his information from Ansel, who isn't exactly in a position to ask the principals involved. All he's able to do right now is to observe—and be ready to step in, if that's possible and advisable. I hope to have more information after tonight. It's likely, though, that the army will be heading home in a few days. With any luck, you should have your Rhysem back within a fortnight."
Plucking one of the roses from the basket, Michaela brought it to her face and inhaled deeply of its perfume.
"Dear God, let it be so," she whispered.
She returned to her quarters to try to sleep after that, both heartened and uneasy about Rhysel's news—and obliged not to reveal, in any way, that her information was more current than what was in the letters she received almost daily from her husband.
The most recent had told of Albertus and the odd attack by bees, though she knew from Rhysel that Albertus now was dead, and Paulin as good as dead, and that the spy Dimitri had perished as well—and Rhysem had come through it all safely. She expected official confirmation of that news to arrive at any time. It would shake the despicable Archbishop Hubert to the very core of his substantial and sanctimonious self and leave the remaining great lords similarly discomfited, for it totally shifted the balance of power among those who continued to presume that they, and not the king, should govern Gwynedd.
Later that evening, as she paid her permitted visit to her young son, she hugged him close and kissed him before tucking him into bed, ruffling the thick, dark hair and reflecting that perhaps, if fate continued to smile on his father, young Owain might inherit a free kingdom after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Righteous lips are the delight of kings; and they love him that speaketh right.
—Proverbs 16:13
It was not yet dark when the king's party returned to Lochalyn, satisfied with the arrangements at Culliecairn, but Rhys Michael was exhausted. His hand had not ceased throbbing, and he feared he was beginning to run a fever. After picking halfheartedly at supper in the castle's hall, he asked Stevanus to have a look.
"Maybe the bandages just need loosening," he said. "I expect it's more swollen than it was, but that's normal, isn't it?"
At Stacia's invitation, they retired to the lord's solar formerly shared by her parents, where his belongings had been moved up from camp during his absence of the afternoon. Though the new accommodation afforded greater comfort and privacy, and a woman's touch gentled the process of baring the hand for inspection, neither Stacia nor Stevanus looked particularly pleased. Most of the back of the hand was now a livid purple, and the skin around the sutures in the laceration was tight and shiny.
"There's certainly a good deal of swelling," Stevanus murmured, prodding at it gently, "but that isn't unexpected. I _am_ concerned about your fever. It could mean that an infection is developing. I think I need not tell you that a horse's hoof makes an incredibly filthy wound."
"But we cleaned it," Rhys Michael protested. He winced as Stacia began applying a fresh dressing of sphagnum moss.
"'Tis difficult tae clean sicht wounds properly," she murmured. "Ye shattered bones, too. That makes an injury like this especially dangerous."
"How dangerous?" Rhys Michael asked, turning his gaze on Stevanus.
The battle surgeon shrugged and began winding the bandages back over the splints. "I will not lie to you, Sire. Whenever bone is exposed to the air, there is danger. It could become necessary to take the hand. God knows, that would be a measure of last resort, for amputation carries its own dangers, but—"
"No," Rhys Michael whispered, hugging the wounded hand closer to his chest, remembering the Healer Tavis, who also had lost a hand. "Stevanus, I won't lose my hand. I won't!"
"We'll hope it doesn't come to that," Stevanus reassured him. "It's early on. A certain amount of fever is normal, with any wound. With luck, it will pass."
After Stacia had gone out, the surgeon prepared another draught of the syrup of poppies, watching the king drink it down before he left him to the ministrations of Cathan and Fulk for the night. When the drug had taken the edge from the pain but not yet made him too drowsy, Rhys Michael asked Cathan to show him the codicil he had drafted. Fulk had bedded down on a pallet near the door and, with a little encouragement from Cathan, was already fast asleep.
"I hope this is what you had in mind," Cathan said, perching on the edge of the bed beside the king. "If you approve, I'll make five copies during the night. I'm not sure exactly when we can arrange to get everybody to sign, but we'll manage something. At least Rhun has definitely agreed to stay through tomorrow night Corban intends to host a supper after the funeral and court. I expect that will be our best opportunity, once the wine starts flowing."
He held a rushlight closer so that Rhys Michael could read through the text. It named Graham MacEwan, Duke of Claibourne, and Sighere of Marley as regents during any minority of the king's heir, to serve regardless of whatever other regents might be named in any present or future decretal or last will and testament of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane. The appointments could not be reversed save by the king himself or the resignation of the men themselves. In case Sighere died before a Haldane heir came of age, the document designated the twenty-year-old Sean Coris, Master of Marley, to serve as Sighere's replacement.
"You're sure you want to make this an irrevocable appointment?" Cathan said, when the king had read it through. "Rhysem, I know you trust Claibourne, because you had a chance to talk with him and Truth-Read him, but you hardly know Marley. You have only Claibourne's word that he'll even accept, under these terms and conditions, and you have no idea about Marley's son."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes. His medication was making him drowsy. "Sighere and his brothers have always been loyal to my line," he whispered. "Their father gave my father his unqualified loyalty and bound his three sons to my father as well. The blood runs true in the brothers' offspring; I must trust that it runs true in Sighere as well. Both Graham and Stacia trust him."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to appoint Stacia, then?" Cathan asked. "At least you know _she's_ loyal. And she's got a few drops of Deryni blood, if that makes a difference."
"And I will cherish her for that, as well as for her loyalty today," he said, smiling as he glanced up at Cathan. "But I daren't appoint a woman as regent. The law forbids it and always has, except for members of the Royal Family. Besides that, I'm already treading on thin ice by trying to make this appointment at all. God alone knows whether it will stand up, if Graham has to exercise it. But at least he's a duke, so there's no one to outrank him."
Cathan allowed himself a sigh of exasperation, but he clearly could not argue his brother-in-law's point.
"I have to agree," he murmured. "Shall I make those copies, men? This is how you want it to read?"
Rhys Michael nodded, rubbing his upper arm above his bandages.
"I'd prefer to run it past more experienced legal minds, but we don't have that luxury. Make the five copies. Tomorrow we'll worry about how we're going to get them signed without Rhun or Manfred interfering."
Through the rest of the night he drifted fitfully in and out of sleep, unable to get comfortable, periodically aware of Cathan scratching away on his copies at a small table on the other side of the room, and that the rushlights burned nearly until dawn. On the occasions when he did dip deeper into sleep, his rest was marred by disturbing dreams that he could not remember on waking.
It was Fulk who came to rouse him, a few hours after dawn, looking by far the freshest of the three of them for having had a full night's sleep. Rhys Michael himself was hardly more rested than when he had gone to bed. He suspected that his fever had worsened during the night—his whole right arm was hot, from shoulder to fingertips—but he made himself get up and wash and dress, for he _must_ put in an appearance at Sudrey's funeral and the court and meal to follow.
Before the funeral, Rhun held an impromptu staff meeting in the castle's hall, to receive reports on the continued Torenthi withdrawal during the night and finalize plans for a departure on the morrow. Rhys Michael listened dutifully enough, brushing off Stevanus' attentions, for he did not want the surgeon to order him back to bed, but after drinking some ale he really did not want and eating a few mouthfuls of bread, he did accept another dose of painkiller.
The Requiem Mass for Sudrey of Eastmarch seemed to last forever, as he had feared. Being feverish, he bundled up in his crimson cloak with the Haldane brooch at the shoulder and alternated between shaking with chills and wanting to throw off all his clothes. The little chapel was packed, with people standing shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, and even in the open doorway. Rhys Michael was feeling light-headed by the time it finished, but he could not even make an immediate escape, for Duke Graham had contrived to tell him, on the way into the chapel, that the priest, a Father Derfel, was utterly trustworthy and had agreed to witness the documents. But the king must make the final arrangements.
The priest disappeared into the little sacristy with his fresh-scrubbed altar servers, one of whom remained to extinguish the altar candles. The chapel quickly began to empty. Though Rhun and Manfred went out with the family, Graham gravely shepherding them as they headed toward the hall, where the court would follow, Rhys Michael kept back Cathan and Fulk—and Stevanus, lest there be any question, later on—and knelt near the front of the chapel in pretended prayer, waiting for the priest's servers to come out. Sudrey's closed coffin still lay before the altar, with four strong Eastmarch men waiting to lower it into its final resting place in the crypt once the mourners had gone.
Very shortly, the boys burst from the sacristy like exuberant puppies, their high spirits damping only momentarily as they saw him and made hurried bows before dashing on out the chapel door to the freedom of outdoors. Faintly smiling, Rhys Michael glanced at his companions and got to his feet. He had liked what he Read of Father Derfel during the Mass. The man exuded an air of kindness—a quality he did not often see in the sour _Custodes_ priests to whom he was accustomed.
"Wait here while I thank the good father for the Mass," he said "I won't be but a few minutes. I know court will be waiting."
His smile dimmed as he passed close to Sudrey's coffin, where the Eastmarch men were starting to move the slabs away, opening the vault to receive her. Drawing a deep breath, he set his hand on the latch of the sacristy door and went in.
The priest was still in alb and stole, his back to the door, diligently shaking out the black chasuble he had worn. Ginger-haired and bearded, of indeterminate middle years, he looked around in some surprise as the king closed the door behind him.
"I hope I didn't startle you, Father," Rhys Michael said in a low voice. "I believe his Grace of Claibourne spoke to you earlier this morning—or perhaps last night."
The priest gave him a careful nod and laid the chasuble aside.
"He did that, Sire. If what he has told me is correct, ye tak a grave risk."
Rhys Michael allowed him a fleeting smile and rubbed at his aching arm. "I do, if my great lords find out what I've done while I'm still alive. For that reason, I must ask that you keep all knowledge of this under the Seal of the Confessional. Once I'm gone, of course, you're released from that Seal. Then I'll _want_ the document to be broadcast as widely as possible."
"Ye have my word, Sire," the priest said, bowing slightly as he touched his right hand to the stole he still wore.
"Thank you." Rhys Michael pulled a much-folded copy of the draft of the text from inside his sling and passed it to the priest. "This is the draft version of the document I intend you to witness. Five copies have been drawn up in proper form. They'll need to be signed and sealed by the other principals before I sign. Do you mind if I sit while you read over it, Father? I'm feeling a bit light-headed. I fear my wound may be festering."
Quickly the priest procured a stool and shoved it under Rhys Michael as he sat, moving then to tilt the document by the better light from a lancet window beside the little vesting altar. He moved his lips as he read, his florid face going more and more pale, so that freckles stood out all across his tonsure and cheeks by the time he had finished.
"Sir, ye repose great trust in m'lords of Claibourne and Marley," he murmured. "Knowing both men, I believe such trust to be well placed, but ye _are_ aware that if the document stands in law—that ye may appoint such regents—they cannae then be ousted?"
Rhys Michael sighed wearily and shook his head. "Father, if you're counseling caution, know that I must seize this opportunity while I may and trust that I have judged these men correctly. Once my great lords have me back in Rhemuth, there will be no further opportunity to adjust the terms of a future regency more to my liking—and I cannot refuse to go back, or let my friends keep me here, for my wife and son and my unborn next heir lie totally in the great lords' power.
"As to whether the document will stand in law—that must be for others to determine, when and if it comes to that," he went on. "I can only do what best I may, while I yet live, to ensure that my sons have better regents than those with whom my brothers and I had to contend—if regents they must have. I pray, of course, that I shall live to see my sons' sons playing at my knee, serene in my old age, and free at last of the fetters of this past decade. But I harbour no illusions about my personal safety, once my queen is delivered of the child she now carries—especially if it is another prince, as I believe it to be."
He did not tell the priest that he already knew the child was another boy, for not even to a holy man dared he reveal that the Crown of Gwynedd again had Deryni connections. Even so, Father Derfel stared at him, mouth agape, then dropped to his knees at the king's feet.
"I am yer man, Sire," he whispered. "Earl Hrorik, God rest 'im, ever said yer line were brave and honorable, an' now I know it tae be true. But, how do ye mean to accomplish e'en this, if yer great lords watch ye so carefully?"
Rhys Michael rubbed his good hand over his face, trying to think. He was shivering with fever again, and even his good hand shook as he clasped it closer around the injured arm.
"After court, Sir Cathan will bring you the copies of the document. There are five: one each for Claibourne, Marley, and Lady Stacia, one for yourself, and one for me. The other principals will come to you individually during supper, in the place Lady Stacia shall designate, to sign and seal them in your presence. At some point I shall contrive to join you and add my own signature, such as it is." He slightly raised his bandaged hand. "That's another reason it's essential that I sign in your presence. I shall leave you my signet to seal the documents while I return to the hall, but you must get it back to me or to Sir Cathan as soon as possible, lest someone notice. I must also have my copy of the document before I leave tomorrow."
"I understand," the priest agreed. "But—Sire, are ye well enough to see this through? Ye look sommat feverish."
Rhys Michael touched the back of his good hand to his forehead and suppressed a shudder. "I _have_ to be well enough, Father," he whispered. "I'm sure I'll be all right. Master Stevanus said I might expect a fever for the first few days." He indicated his bandaged hand and gave an ironic smile. "Did they tell you what happened? Somebody's damned horse _stepped_ on me!"
Without invitation, the priest touched his hand to Rhys Michael's forehead and grimaced at the heat he felt. "'Tis no matter fer jest, Sire," he murmured. "Are they giving ye sommat for the fever?"
The king shook his head. "Not that I know of. Just syrup of poppies for the pain. To be fair, the fever's only gotten bad in the last little while. But I have to make it through court."
"God willin', ye shall do, Sire," the priest replied. "May I tell Lady Stacia? Her dear mother taught her much o' the healing arts that is not widely known."
"She helped Stevanus change my dressing last night," Rhys Michael murmured. "I expect she's done all she can. But go ahead and tell her, if you think it might help."
A cautious rap at the door returned their attention to more immediate concerns.
"I'd better go," the king said, getting to his feet. "That will be Sir Cathan, warning me I'll be missed soon."
"Aye, Sire. May I offer ye t'drink before ye go? Ye should be havin' lots o' fluids, with that fever."
"If it isn't too much trouble, that would be very kind," the king replied.
Fetching a silver ewer from a credence table near the vesting altar, the priest set it beside the communion vessels he had brought in from Mass and swept the burse and pall and veil off the chalice.
"I noticed, by the way, that ye didnae come up for Communion," he said, as he poured wine into the chalice. "Was there a reason for that? Should ye be seeking me out for shriving?"
Rhys Michael snorted. "My great lords would never allow me to confess to a priest who isn't of the _Custodes_ Order," he murmured. "Besides, I'd already eaten this morning. Master Stevanus wouldn't give me any more painkiller until I'd eaten something, and I thought that was more important than to keep the fast so that I could receive." He raised an eyebrow as the priest handed him the chalice, and asked, "Should I be drinking from this? I thought that holy vessels were reserved for holy things."
"What thing more holy than ministerin' tae one o' God's children who is ill?" Derfel replied with an arch smile. "Especially if that child be my anointed king. Would ye still be desirous o' receivin' Communion, Sire?"
Rhys Michael paused with the chalice halfway to his lips, suddenly aware that he did wish it. Somehow, the offer from this rustic priest meant more to him than all the bishops and other high-ranking clerics with whom he had ever come into contact.
"Yes, I would, Father. But only if you're sure it doesn't violate any rules."
"I keep the rules that serve His pleasure," Derfel said, gesturing toward the Presence Light burning atop the tabernacle on the little altar. "An' His pleasure is tae see His children come to Hun in love an' prayerfulness. I dinnae think He cares o'ermuch for some o' the legalities imposed by the men who govern His Church on earth—not when those legalities would deny His solace to His children who are in need. Ye took food as part o' medicine." He gestured toward the chalice. "That's medicine as well. Drink up, Sire, an' then kneel in thanksgiving, while I bring ye the Body of our Lord."
Somehow imbued with new energy, just by the words, Rhys Michael drained the chalice to the dregs, welcoming the cool wine sliding down his dry throat, then eased to his knees, clutching the chalice to his breast. Father Derfel had turned to reverence the tabernacle on the little altar, and now swung wide its golden door to part a veil of green silk and take out a ciborium of hammered gold. Removing the cover, he set it aside and turned to face the king, carefully taking out a small Host, which he held above the cup.
" _Ecce Agnus Dei: ecce qui tollit peccata mundi_ ," he said. Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him Who taketh away the sins of the world.
Bowing his head, Rhys Michael murmured, " _Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo et sanabitur anima mea._ " Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof; speak but the word and my soul shall be healed...
He found himself gazing into the empty chalice as he recited the words, somehow visualizing light collecting in the golden bowl, and for the first time in many days he felt a sense of inner peace moving in his soul as he looked up again at Father Derfel, who now raised the Host a little higher.
" _Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodial animam tuam in vitam aeternam._ " The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto everlasting life.
"Amen," Rhys Michael murmured, closing his eyes then as Father Derfel put the Host on his tongue.
He could not have said, later, that it tasted any different from Communion he had received a hundred times before, but it somehow meant more to him. He knew he dared not linger to savor the feeling, but when Father Derfel had covered the ciborium again and put it back into the tabernacle, he felt a greater sense of his own sacral station than he had ever felt before, even at his anointing as king. Despite the fever still mounting in his body, he felt profoundly at peace as he handed the chalice back to Father Derfel, and when the priest offered a hand to help him up, Rhys Michael bent instead to kiss it.
"Sire, ye shouldnae do that," Derfel murmured, gently shifting his other hand to caress the king's sable hair in blessing.
"But I wanted to," Rhys Michael murmured, looking up at him. "I give you this salute as a token of my gratitude. You've given me back my balance, so that I can go out and do what I must, as an anointed king. I'd almost lost that, after years of going through the motions with priests I detest, whose sins are in their hearts and on their lips, and whose hands are stained with innocent blood. Thank you for reminding me that it doesn't have to be that way."
"My dear, dear boy," Derfel murmured.
Another, more insistent rap at the door impelled him to draw the king to his feet again, this time urging him to go.
"Be off wi' ye now, Sire. I'll see to the arrangements. God be with ye."
Rhys Michael was blinking back tears as he made his way back to the door, and he had to pause for a few seconds to compose himself. Stevanus said nothing as he came out, obviously reassured by Cathan, but the king decided it was probably best to offer at least a partial explanation for his long absence. As soon as they had gotten clear of the chapel, where men were already closing the slabs above Sudrey's grave, he glanced at the surgeon.
"I was only going to thank him for the Mass, but he'd noticed that I didn't go forward for Communion," he told Stevanus, as they went into the courtyard to cross to the great hall steps. "I told him I'd already broken my fast, so I could take my painkiller, but he said that was medicinal, under the circumstances, so it didn't count. I didn't think you'd mind the short delay."
"That was very kind of him," Stevanus said. "I shouldn't think even Rhun will mind—but we do need to hurry." He reached out to touch the king's hand, then his forehead. "That fever doesn't seem to be abating, though. Are you up to this court? I could have Lord Rhun deputize for you."
"No, I want to do it," the king said. "After coming all this way and costing them their lord and lady, it's the least I can do for Eastmarch. I'm also very hungry, so don't try to send me off to bed until I've had a crack at the food they've been cooking for two days."
He was _not_ hungry, but he knew he must establish from the start that he intended to perform his duties. He was feeling more and more light-headed, perhaps partially from the wine, but it was essential that he get through this, both for the reasons he had outlined to Stevanus and for the ones Stevanus must never know. He hoped he would feel better, once he had eaten. As it was, the smell of the food made him faintly nauseated as they approached the steps to the castle's hall.
The party to be invested were already assembled in the yard outside, Stacia and her husband waiting with half a dozen of their retainers. An adolescent girl in border tweeds held the infant Kennet, and two younger girls carried cushions bearing hammered silver circlets. Earl Sighere was husbanding a banner of the arms of Eastmarch in the crook of his arm, looking impatient, and his son Sean bore a sheathed broadsword with the sword belt wrapped around the scabbard—presumably the former property of Hrorik.
When Sighere saw the king approaching, he handed off the banner to his son and came over to greet the king.
"'Tis glad I am tae see ye here, Sire," he murmured, inclining his head slightly. "Ye didnae look too well during Mass."
Rhys Michael gave him a wan smile. "I have some fever," he acknowledged, "but I could hardly allow it to interfere with so important an event. I tarried to thank Father Derfel for offering Mass in Lady Sudrey's behalf. Would that I had more such priests in my service."
Sighere nodded carefully. "Father Derfel is a braw priest, an' a credit to his callin'."
"That was my thought as well," Rhys Michael agreed.
"Aye." Sighere's glance flicked to Stevanus, to Cathan, then back to the king, betraying nothing. Fulk had gone ahead into the hall.
"They'll be waitin' fer ye, Sire. Ye'd best go ahead in. I do thank ye for coming to our aid, if ye were not thankit before. Kheldour stands ready tae serve, as we hae served yer Highness these past days. By yer leave, Sire."
So saying, he gave the king another nod of his head and withdrew to retrieve his banner. Stevanus watched him go, men turned to glance at the king, apparently suspecting nothing.
"You _are_ looking peaked, Sire. Are you sure you're up to this?"
"I'm fine," Rhys Michael said.
They went on into the hall, which was already crowded. Rhys Michael had not thought about it before, but it was hardly half the size of the hall at Rhemuth. Mostly empty before, it had seemed larger.
With a supper to follow, the high table was set up across the dais as usual, with trestle tables and benches along both long sides of the hall. In the open space between the arms of the U thus formed, almost against the high table, they had positioned a high-backed chair to serve as a throne. Up to the right of it, an intense-looking Duke Graham was listening to instructions from Rhun and Manfred, looking none too happy, while Lord Joshua and Father Lior looked on.
The group dispersed as Rhys Michael approached, Rhun drawing Manfred aside in some private converse and Graham starting to marshal the retainers milling in the hall, urging them to approach the dais and leave a center aisle. Father Derfel had come in while the king spoke with Sighere, carrying a silver-cased Gospel book and wearing a white cope over his alb and stole. Father Lior looked none too pleased that the priest obviously expected to participate in the ceremony.
"Your offer of assistance is most generous, Father, but I believe we have things under control," Lior said.
"I've nae doubt that ye do, Father," Derfel said smoothly, as Rhys Michael passed, "but I am confessor tae Lady Stacia and Lord Corban. They hae begged leave tae swear their oaths on the Gospel book from which they hear the word o' God each day; an' who but their confessor can better remind them o' those oaths, when the king is far from Eastmarch?"
Even Lior could not gainsay that argument; and if he had tried, Rhys Michael was prepared to put in his own arguments for Derfel's presence. Fortunately, Rhun was approaching, gesturing for Fulk to bring the king's crown and sword.
"I think we should begin, Sire," he said, as Cathan took the crown from Fulk and put it on Rhys Michael's head.
_You're burning up_ , Cathan sent, adjusting the crown on the king's clammy brow.
Rhys Michael could only shrug as he sat in the chair provided and Fulk laid the sheathed Haldane sword across its arms. As the others took their places around them and the retainers of Eastmarch and Claibourne and Marley crowded into the hall, he tried to summon up the strength to get through this ceremony. He was feeling worse and worse.
A muffled roll of drums demanded the attention of all present, then began beating out a slow cadence suitable for a stately procession. In happier times, border pipes would have accompanied the new earl and countess down the length of the crowded hall, but not with Sudrey buried hardly an hour before, and not with the late earl but a fortnight before her.
The two came before him and made their reverences, Stacia still garbed in the unremitting black she had worn to her mother's funeral, Corban in drab border tweeds. Sighere had unfurled the Eastmarch banner and footed it on the step of the dais, and Graham stood beside Rhys Michael's chair, bearing the letters patent. Father Derfel waited at the young duke's elbow, the Gospel book hugged to his breast.
Rhys Michael glanced at Rhun and Manfred, keeping attendance from the other side, then turned his gaze to his Eastmarch retainers and their new earl and countess.
"My lords and ladies, people of Eastmarch," he said, speaking quietly, but in a voice that carried to the far end of the hall. "Mere words cannot express the honor I feel to be here among you, and to know the loyalty that has surrounded me these past days, as we stood together against would-be invaders. You have paid a high price, for you have lost both your earl and his lady in my service. It is a price they were prepared to pay, but I cannot but wish that payment could have been made in some other coin. I knew Lord Hrorik but slightly, from my boyhood days, and only met the Lady Sudrey on the night before she laid down her life in my defense, but both were brave and honorable. I can only hope and pray that our Lord in Heaven will richly reward those who, in life, served their earthly lord so well and so faithfully."
The hall had grown hushed and expectant as he went on, a murmur of approval whispering among his listeners. Rhun had an increasingly sour look on his face.
"But we have not come here today to speak more of Lord Hrorik and his lady, who are with us no more, but to acknowledge their daughter and heir, who comes before us to be invested as Countess of Eastmarch, and also her husband, Lord Corban Howell, who will rule as earl at her side. It is not often that so noble a title passes through the female line, but knowing what I do of the Lady Sudrey, I cannot think that her daughter will be any less noble as she assumes the office borne so faithfully by her late father. My lady? Lord Corban?"
At his gesture, the two came to kneel before him, Stacia directly at his knees, Corban a handspan back, for the two would give their oaths separately. As Stacia offered him her joined hands, he slipped his bandaged hand out of its sling to clasp her hands lightly against it with his good hand. Father Derfel had come forward with the Gospel and held it down beside their joined hands.
"Stacia, Countess of Eastmarch, I am prepared to hear your oath," the king said quietly.
Her dark eyes did not leave his as she spoke.
"I, Stacia, Countess of Eastmarch, do become yer vassal of life an' limb, an' enter yer fealty, an' do homage for all the lands of Eastmarch, formerly held by my father Hrorik, an' before him by my grandfather, Sighere, Warlord o' Kheldour an' first Duke o' Claibourne. Faith and truth will I bear unto ye, tae live an' tae die, against all manner o' folk, sae help me God."
Her hands were trembling between his, his injured hand throbbing to be so pressed, but he would not alter the symbolism merely for his own comfort. It struck him that this was the first time he had ever exchanged such oaths with any of his vassals with any sense that he actually had control over how the relationship was conducted. In truth, he had never been allowed an opportunity to interact with any of his vassals as king. The exhilaration made his blood sing through his veins and brought a faint flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with fever.
"This do I hear, Stacia of Eastmarch, and I, for my part, pledge the protection of Gwynedd to you and all your people, to defend you from every creature with all my power, giving loyalty for loyalty and justice for honor. This is the word of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd, Lord of Meara and Mooryn and the Purple March, and Overlord of Eastmarch. So help me God."
When both he and Stacia had laid their hands on the Gospel and kissed its silver-chased cover, Corban Howell likewise set his hands briefly between the king's and then kissed the book, though he was not required to repeat the oath—only to affirm it. Rhys Michael liked what he could Read of Corban and had no doubt that the new earl was well content. In all practical aspects, this younger son of an impoverished family of gentry was now Earl of Eastmarch for Stacia's lifetime, the title to pass to their son upon her death. If one could not himself be born to such titles, attaining such a title by marriage was an entirely honorable and satisfactory way to establish his own noble succession. Young Corban had done well for himself.
There followed the investiture with the emblems of rank, each with its own symbolism. Handing off the Haldane sword, the king stood to place the silver circlets upon their heads, first Stacia and then Corban. He was awkward with only one hand—he had slipped his injured one back into its sling—but Father Derfel assisted him.
The banner that Sighere brought forward was easier to manage one-handed. Declaring it a token of Stacia's authority to govern Eastmarch in his name, the king delivered it into Stacia's hands. She, in turn, passed it into the keeping of Murray, one of her captains, as Sighere's son Sean brought forward the sword that had belonged to Hrorik.
This the king also gave to Stacia, in token of her duty to defend her people. After kissing the holy relic on its hilt, Stacia presented it to Corban, who followed suit and then enlisted the assistance of Duke Graham to belt the weapon around his waist. When that was done, the new earl stood to draw it and salute the king before sheathing it again.
Finally Rhys Michael presented Stacia with a cauldron, symbolic of her duty to provide for her people. Stacia herself took charge of this, laying her hand upon it in acceptance before another of her captains took it aside. The ceremony completed, Rhys Michael at last raised her up and turned her to face those gathered in the crowded hall, also gathering Corban to her side.
"People of Eastmarch, I give you your new Earl and Countess of Eastmarch. Be ye loyal and true, as they shall be to you."
A lone piper struck up a jaunty march at that, as the men cheered and brandished their swords in support and a few of Stacia's men took her and Corban onto their shoulders and paraded them the length of the hall and back. Rhun and Manfred and some of the Gwynedd men looked a little dismayed at first, but it soon became clear that pride and high spirits prevailed, rather than any danger. While the demonstration continued, Rhys Michael sank back down on his chair, conserving his strength, trying not to look as if he were anticipating what, for him, would be the most important part of the afternoon's ceremony.
When the impromptu parade had returned, young Graham held up his hands for silence, men turned to face the king and bowed. Sighere also had moved closer.
"Sire, ane boon I would ask, before we adjourn tae tak refreshment," Graham said. "I assure ye that it is within yer power tae give, an' that it isnae to the detriment o' yer crown."
Rhun and Manfred drew closer, wary and suspicious, but Rhys Michael feigned ignorance of what Graham intended.
"Speak, my Lord Duke," he said. "The king listens."
Graham inclined his head, partially turning to address the court as well.
"Sire, as was my duty, I gave ye my homage and fealty at yer coronation. Neither of us were long come into our manhood at that time, an' it was said that yer Highness' health had suffered temporarily from the shock of yer brother's untimely death, both o' which perhaps lessened yer Highness' appreciation o' the oaths we then exchanged.
"Circumstances havenae brought me back tae Rhemuth since then, an' they didnae bring yer Highness tae Kheldour until a few days ago. But in these past days, I and mine hae seen ample evidence that the king to whom I swore allegiance out o' duty is also worthy o' that allegiance on his own merits. Accordingly, an' it please yer Highness, I beg yer leave tae renew my oath o' fealty at this time."
Even having known that Graham was going to do this, Rhys Michael felt his pulse soar in excitement and pride and quickly swept his good hand before him in invitation for Graham to approach, before Rhun or Manfred could object. Paulin or Albertus would have forbidden it straightaway, as too public a display of personal support for the king, but Rhys Michael was gambling that neither Rhun nor Manfred was yet secure enough in his new office to make a public scene this far from home and on a point to which only those openly opposed to the king could possibly object.
As Graham came to kneel close before his chair, Rhys Michael sat forward and slipped his injured hand out of his sling again so he could clasp the young duke's joined hands between his own. As Graham's lips parted to speak the ritual words, Rhys Michael allowed himself to slip into the surface levels of the other's mind, reading the additional meanings already promised in their earlier conversation of the day before.
"Before God an' these assembled witnesses, I, Graham, Duke o' Claibourne, do affirm that I am yer man o' life and limb an' earthly worship. Faith and truth will I bear unto ye, tae live an' tae die, against all manner o' folk, sae help me God."
As he finished the oath, he dipped to press his forehead to their joined hands, first briefly touching his lips to the king's fingertips. Rhys Michael did not think Rhun or Manfred noticed, but he felt the fierce surge of the younger man's devotion, and held the joined hands more closely as Graham lifted his head, even though the pressure made his injured hand throb worse.
"Graham of Claibourne, this do I hear," he said, trying to keep his joy from showing but still convey his gratitude to the young duke. "As I swore at my sacring, so I pledge you anew—the protection of Gwynedd to defend you and all your people from every creature with all my power, giving loyalty for loyalty and justice for honor. This is the oath of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd, Lord of Meara and Mooryn and the Purple March, and Overlord of Claibourne. So help me God."
As he released Graham's hands, the younger man crossed himself in affirmation of the oath and then got to his feet. Earl Sighere was already moving in to take his place, thumping to his knees to offer up his joined hands.
"Ye hae my pledge as well, Sire," he murmured, as Rhys Michael's hands enfolded his. "I am yer man—and do ye merely say _Amen_ to affirm it, for there be many more who desire tae swear ye the same."
As he, too, ducked his head to kiss the royal hand and then press his forehead to their joined ones in homage, Rhys Michael whispered, "Amen." Several dozen more came forward after that, to his growing amazement and gratitude and to the consternation of Rhun and Manfred, who quickly figured out what the men were doing when they bent to touch their foreheads to the hands.
The two drew apart a little to murmur between themselves, and Rhys Michael knew he would have questions to answer when it was all over, but he hardly cared, in the soul-soaring exuberance of learning what support he actually had. He Truth-Read them as they came, knowing there was none to detect it and betray him, and plumbed the depth of loyalty that lay behind each murmured "I am yer man"—loyalty that was his to command, could he ever find a way to tap it to free his crown.
His hand was aching worse than ever by the time they finished, for he could not help but jostle it in performing the ritual gesture—but he would not have omitted it for all the world and disappoint such fervent devotion.
But other reckoning came almost immediately, as the court broke up and folk dispersed for the feast to be set up—and Rhun and Manfred shuffled him apart, into the relative privacy of a deep window embrasure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie.
—II Thessalonians 2:11
"What the devil was that all about?" Rhun demanded, drawing the king deeper into the window embrasure as Manfred took up a stance to block further entrance or departure. "They were kissing your hand—every single man jack of them."
"I suppose it's local custom," Rhys Michael murmured, cradling his aching arm. "They're a passionate people, these borderers. You've seen them in action."
"Yes, and I know what it means, when they seal an oath that way," Rhun said. "It makes the oath a personal one—to the man, not just to the crown."
"Does it?"
"It bloody well does, and you know it!" Rhun snapped, though he kept his voice low. "Don't play the innocent with me. Did you know Claibourne was going to do that?"
"Of course not," Rhys Michael lied. "If I had, I would have told you. But once they'd started doing it, what was I supposed to do? Jerk my hands away and insult them? Spurn the loyalty of a quarter of the kingdom? It may have escaped your notice, Rhun, but without the Kheldour lords—and in particular, without that lady we buried a few hours ago—we might not be having this discussion. And I might not be the only one dead."
Rhun breathed out in a perplexed sigh, obviously keeping his temper in check only with the greatest of effort.
"Well, it doesn't matter now; it's done," he muttered. "Just don't get any ideas in your head."
"Ideas? What ideas?" Rhys Michael retorted, as all the despair of the past six years came welling up, pulsing with the ache in his arm. "What the hell do you think I might do? What _could_ I do?"
"I don't know!" Rhun retorted, then glanced around and lowered his voice as he continued in a more conciliatory tone. "Just don't push me, Sire. As you may have gathered, I'm still uneasy over this whole Eastmarch affair—the deaths en route, the resolution with Miklos, and now this little demonstration by Claibourne and Marley. And with Albertus and Paulin gone, the entire balance in Rhemuth will be shifting as well. If you were to become too inconvenient—well, I don't think I need to spell it out, do I?"
Rhys Michael blinked and swallowed with difficulty, tight-jawed, then shook his head.
"I thought not," Rhun murmured, glancing out into the hall again. "Now, I think no one would take it amiss if you were to retire early this evening. I'm a little concerned about your hand. You don't look at all well."
Rhys Michael looked away, hugging the injured arm to his chest. "I'll be all right," he muttered. "Why should you care? I should think it would be the ultimate 'convenience' if I died from it."
"Not really," Rhun said. "Actually, I should prefer to choose the time and place for _my_ convenience." He gave the king a quick grimace that might have passed for a smile, though without a trace of mirth, then set his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"But I think we need not speak further of such things tonight, Sire. Shall I have Stevanus escort you to your quarters?"
Rhys Michael made himself stand more erect, setting his good hand on his belt and trying to strike the right balance between assertion and compliance. Were it only for his own comfort, he would have sought his bed some time ago, but one last duty remained to be done before he dared seek that comfort, and he must not allow Rhun to interfere.
"Not quite yet, if you don't mind," he said. "I really am feeling better than I probably look, and it would be insulting to our hosts not to make an appearance at least. Besides, I have to eat. If you prefer, though, I won't stay too late. I'll confess that bed sounds like an altogether tempting proposition."
"Very well," Rhun said, "if you're sure."
Rhys Michael could feel the earl marshal's gaze following him as he pressed past him and Manfred and went back into the hall. To his relief, neither man pressed the issue, though he knew, as he rejoined Cathan and Fulk, that they and probably Stevanus would be told to watch him. So long as it was just those three, the situation probably was surmountable. He prayed that it was, because the very future of the Haldane Crown perhaps depended upon it.
They were summoned to table very shortly. Rhys Michael was glad to escape to the less demanding small talk of a feast beginning, subdued though it was because of the castle's recent bereavement. He had Stacia seated on his right, in the place of honor, with her husband beyond and Graham and Sighere at that end of the table, though he could not speak freely because Lior was on his immediate left, followed by Joshua Delacroix. Rhun and Manfred sat beyond with several of their aides, where they might be free to observe and comment to one another in relative privacy.
Cathan and Fulk took turns serving the king, also giving instructions to the local squires assigned to wait table. Rhun had drawn the two aside early on, one at a time—to order them to accompany the king, if he even went out to use the privy—but later in the meal, Cathan was able to confirm that he had gotten the necessary documents to Father Derfel, who was waiting in a tiny chamber just beyond one of the garderobes.
After the pace of the previous few days, the meal seemed to drag, with the courses interspersed with interludes of sad harping and singing, some of it in a dialect Rhys Michael did not understand. He only picked at his food, but he managed to drink enough wine to further blunt the throbbing of his arm—though he took care lest it also blunt the edge of his wits for survival. Both Graham and Stacia had already disappeared briefly during the course of the meal, and Sighere had been in and out of the hall several times, ostensibly stewarding the flow of wine.
"All the others have signed," Cathan finally reported, as he bent close to refill the king's cup, "but it's worthless without your signature and seal. The way Rhun is watching you, though, it's going to be a near-run thing. You'll only get one chance."
The chance came a short time later, when Manfred had just returned from a trip to the privies and settled in beside Rhun again, in time for the serving of a new course; Rhun had disappeared briefly a short time before, so probably would not be inclined to disappear again for a while. Stevanus was talking to one of the men who had been wounded with Hrorik the week before.
Quietly excusing himself from the company of Stacia and Corban—Lior was deep in conversation with Joshua and one of Manfred's aides—Rhys Michael rose a trifle shakily on Cathan's arm and staggered from the hall, Fulk following a few seconds later. Sighere passed them en route to the exit, none too steady on his feet and with a goblet in his hand, but Rhys Michael suspected he was far more sober than he looked. The priest's chamber lay a few steps farther up the stairwell from which the curtained garderobe opened, just off the landing outside the hall. With a quick glance around, Rhys Michael simply continued up the stair to slip inside while Cathan took up a more leisurely stance outside the garderobe entrance, just as Fulk came out of the hall.
"Any problem?" he heard Fulk ask.
"No, but he may be a few minutes," Cathan replied. "Say, did you notice that pretty dark-haired lass who was sitting way at the end of the table on the left? She was watching you."
"Yes? Which one was that?"
Trusting Cathan to keep Fulk occupied and divert any suspicion, Rhys Michael closed the door the rest of the way and turned to the table where Father Derfel waited behind a rack of candles, a quill already in hand and extended to him. The faint perfume of melted sealing wax tickled at his nostrils as he removed his signet ring and gave it to the priest, then took the quill awkwardly in his left hand and bent to sign. It was difficult, but he did the best he could, scrawling a reasonably legible _Rhys R._ on each of the five copies. Derfel began sealing them as soon as Rhys Michael had finished the first one.
"Get the seal back to Sir Cathan as soon as you can," he whispered, after finishing the last one with a shaky flourish and then sticking the quill back in the inkwell. "They're really watching me. If anyone notices that I'm suddenly not wearing it, there could be questions."
"Gie me half a minute, an' ye can tak it now," Derfel replied, already applying wax to the third of the copies as the king moved to the door.
Nodding agreement, the king quietly eased the door open far enough to set his eye to the crack. To his horror, Rhun had just stepped into the landing and was looking either at Cathan and Fulk or at the garderobe entrance, a frown furrowing his narrow brow.
Rhys Michael drew back in momentary panic, heart pounding, then carefully set his eye to the crack again. Rhun did not look particularly suspicious or upset; but he was there. Fulk was nodding amiably to the earl marshal. Carefully Rhys Michael sent out a tendril of thought to Cathan, hoping he could reach him without physical contact.
_Cathan?_
Startlement came through, though Cathan showed no outward sign of it. Dismayed, Rhys Michael realized that his kinsman did not seem to have the power to send back more than impressions.
_Don't waste energy trying to send back. Just do what I tell you. I know you can handle Fulk. I also want you to maneuver Rhun around so his back is to me_.
From Cathan came a sense of query.
_The only thing I can do; blank him for about five seconds, long enough for me to get into the garderobe. But you've got to get him up a few steps so I can reach him before he sees or hears me_.
Agreement came through the link, even as Cathan turned toward Rhun. He was just opening his mouth to speak when Sighere came careening into the landing from the great hall, wine sloshing from a goblet in one big hand as he caught his balance against the door jamb.
"Weel, if it isnae Rhun the Ruthless," he said amiably, the words slurred and a little too loud, his gaze unfocused. "I rememmer you. What're ye doin' in Marley, Ruthless?"
As he lurched closer to Rhun and peered at him blearily, and Rhun drew back in distaste, Rhys Michael hoped desperately that Sighere was only trying to divert Rhun, not pick a serious fight. Of one thing he was certain; Rhun was not drunk. He was fairly certain Sighere was not really drunk either. There was bad blood between the two, though. If it came to blows, real blood might be shed—and at least one of the men was apt to die.
Not that he would mourn Rhun's loss. But if Sighere died, that would nullify half the document Rhys Michael had just gone to such pains to get signed—and sealed, he remembered, as the priest slipped in beside him to slide the signet ring back on his hand. And if it was Rhun who was killed, he would hate to have to bring Sighere up on charges of murder.
"You're drunk," Rhun said in disgust. "Why don't you go sleep it off?"
Sighere drew back in a theatrical posture of mock affront—staggering a few steps away from Rhun and the garderobe entrance—and managed an exaggerated pout.
"Tha's no verra friendly. I hae sworn tae yer Haldane king. That makes us allies. Will ye no share a drink?" he asked.
As he held out his goblet, still weaving on his feet, Rhun was already summoning Fulk and Cathan—who would just about provide a convenient screen between Rhun and the garderobe, provided Sighere kept up the diversion. Already, Rhun had his back to the stairs.
"Fulk, get him out of here before I do something we'll both regret," Rhun muttered. "God, these borderers are all alike—"
"Wha's wrong wi' m'drink?" Sighere was muttering, looking into his goblet quizzically and sloshing a little as Fulk and Cathan swept in to take him in charge, also sweeping Rhun along. "Ish good wine. Ah, yer spillin' it. Careful!"
In those few seconds of confusion, as Sighere juggled his wine and the others tried to jolly him along, Rhys Michael was able to dash down the few steps and gain the shelter of the garderobe entrance, pushing the curtain aside even as he pivoted in the doorway, as if he had just come out.
"What the devil is going on out here?" he demanded, twitching the curtain closed behind him.
"Oh, _there_ you are," Rhun said, straightening his tunic as Cathan and Fulk propelled Sighere back into the hall with a good-natured shove. "I wondered where you'd gotten to. Sorry, Sire, but your precious Earl of Marley is a sloppy drunk. The fool accosted me."
"What, outside the privy?" Rhys Michael said with a snort, unable to resist the gibe. "I shouldn't think he was serious."
Rhun stiffened and moved closer. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, never mind. If you're determined to take offense at some simple high spirits from men to whom we owe a great deal—Why were you lurking out here, anyway? You know Sighere doesn't bear you a great deal of goodwill."
"Actually, I was looking for you," Rhun said.
"Looking for me?"
"Yes."
"Whatever for? Can't I even go to the privy without you following me around? Isn't it bad enough that Fulk and Cathan are my faithful shadows?"
Rhun managed to look almost a little embarrassed. "You were in there for quite a while."
"What, having secret conferences?" Rhys Michael said, suddenly realizing that he had Rhun on the defensive and could skirt very close to the truth and make it seem outrageous. He gestured toward his injured arm.
"I don't suppose it occurred to you that this might have slowed me down just a little," he went on, letting the sarcasm bite with his words. "Or did you think I might have invited some secret supporter into the garderobe with me, so we could plot intrigues while he helped me take a piss? Your suspicion is getting out of hand, Rhun. Do you want to have a look and see if he's still in there?"
As he gestured scornfully toward the garderobe curtain, Rhun turned on his heel and stalked back into the hall. As soon as he had disappeared, Rhys Michael had to turn away briefly as he nearly convulsed in silent laughter, Cathan and Fulk also fighting to control wide grins as a bewildered-looking Claibourne retainer poked his head onto the landing, took one look at them, and went back into the great hall.
After a few seconds, Rhys Michael drew himself up more soberly, going nearly white as the throbbing in his arm recalled him to more immediate concerns.
"Well done, gentlemen," he said with a tight grimace. "And on that note, I believe I shall take my leave and retire. Fulk, would you please give my regrets to Lady Stacia and then ask Master Stevanus to attend me?"
He was shivering with fever again by the time he climbed into bed, and he curled onto his side under the sleeping furs until Stevanus came to him. With the surgeon were Stacia and an ample old woman dressed in the simple homespun and tweeds of the local folk, carrying a reed basket over her arm.
"Sire, I hae brought ye Mother Angelica," Stacia said, as Stevanus laid a hand across his forehead to gauge his fever, tight-lipped and grim as he then gave way to the woman. "She is midwife in the village, but her mother used to work wi' the Healer we had in those days. There is a remedy she uses fer childbed fevers. It might help this one."
Rhys Michael's hopes leaped, that the old woman might be a Healer herself, but as she, too, set a hand to his forehead, clucking her tongue and shaking her grizzled head, he knew she was not even Deryni.
"I would look a' the wound," she murmured, shifting her hands to feel the strength of the pulse in the sides of his neck. The gnarled old hands were gentle; the nails were cut short and scrupulously clean.
He winced as Stacia began unwrapping his hand, keeping his gaze on Mother Angelica and seeking to Read her surface thoughts, though he did not probe lest she sense the touch, from working with the Healer long ago. When re-dressing his hand the night before, Stacia had positioned the bandages so that the dressing could be changed on the actual wound without loosing all the support that bound the broken bones into place. As the wound was bared, Mother Angelica peered at it critically, prodding around it and up his forearm, sniffed disapprovingly, then directed Lochalyn's chatelaine to clean it and bind it up again with fresh sphagnum moss. Rhys Michael thought it looked much the same as it had the night before.
"The wound is inflamed, but I dinnae see sign that the poison is spreading up his arm," the old woman said, rummaging in her basket. "This should help the fever."
She pulled out a small earthen jar corked with a wooden plug, opened it to insert a little finger and taste the contents, then nodded and turned to Stevanus.
"He should have as much o' this as will cover the bottom of a small cup, dissolved in water or wine, four times a day."
"What is it?" Stevanus asked.
"My mam called it tacil," the old woman replied. "This is the last of it. The Healer used to make it, but he died."
"A Deryni drug?" Stevanus said, frowning.
"A drug fer easin' fever," Stacia said briskly, taking a cup from the stand beside the bed and shaking in a layer of white, crystalline powder. "Do ye wish tae ease the king's fever or no?"
"The _king_ wants to ease his fever," Rhys Michael said, sitting up and reaching for the cup. "And if there were a Healer available, I'd welcome his services, regardless of what Master Stevanus thinks of Deryni. I don't suppose there is one, though."
"Alas, not since I was a wee girl," Stacia said, and gave him an odd look. Cathan had come with a flask of wine, and she filled the cup halfway and gave it a quick swirl before handing it to the king. "Drink it doon, Sire."
He obeyed before Stevanus could decide whether or not to interfere, though he had to swallow three or four times to get it all down. The dregs were bitter, and he made a face as he handed back the cup and lay back on his pillows. The effort had exhausted him, though his hand seemed to be settling down to a lesser throb after the pain of being examined and rebandaged.
"Am I allowed to have more syrup of poppies, or will the tacil help with the pain, too?" he asked. "I need to get some sleep, if we're to ride out tomorrow."
"The poppy willnae interfere," Mother Angelica said, "but the hand doesnae want jostlin'. At best, ye will be sair uncomfortable."
"The earl marshal wants to get back to Rhemuth as soon as possible," Stevanus said, before the king could reply. "I don't think there's any appeal from that, Sire. We have surgeons aplenty in our train, and there are suitable halting sites all along the way."
"Well, we can discuss it with Rhun in the morning," Rhys Michael said. "If my fever is down, we should move out. The hospitality here at Lochalyn is impeccable, Lady Stacia, but I must get back to my wife and son. She's with child, you know, and she'll already be anxious when she hears I've been injured."
Stacia could not argue with that, and Mother Angelica merely shrugged. When Cathan had shown them out, Stevanus measured out another dose of syrup of poppies—and left convinced that Rhys Michael had drunk it down. In fact, as soon as he had gone, the king set Fulk to bedding down in the anteroom adjacent to the lord's solar and called Cathan to him.
"I do want to get home as quickly as possible, but I think it might be wise if we sent a copy of the codicil ahead to Mika, just in case."
"Just in case what?" Cathan murmured, leaning close as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm not sure." Rhys Michael hugged his injured hand closer and rubbed at the arm above it. "It's a good week's ride back to Rhemuth with troops on the march, and a lot of things could happen. You don't die from having your hand stepped on by a horse, but I—I'd feel better if one of the copies was in her hands."
"Fair enough," Cathan agreed. "Do you have a messenger in mind, or would you like me to go?"
"Not you," Rhys Michael replied. "Trust-wise, I couldn't ask for better, but you'd be missed. Besides, I don't know that I could make it without you.
"But it's important that the copies be dispersed as quickly as possible. I don't think I've yet become too 'inconvenient' for Rhun to keep putting up with me, but if it looks as if he's losing patience, I intend to reveal that the codicil exists and that the only way to keep Graham and Sighere out of government is to keep me alive. I don't dare make that threat unless I'm sure he can't get at all of the copies."
"Sound reasoning. That doesn't answer the question of who goes, though."
"Who're our choices?" Rhys Michael said. "I'll want to set compulsions, in any case, but it's always better if I can start with someone who's loyal."
"How about one of the local men? Sighere's son, perhaps. He struck me as being levelheaded."
Rhys Michael shook his head. "Whoever goes, he has to be able to gain access to the queen; a borderer couldn't. One of our men—but he can't be someone who'd be readily missed."
"None of the _Custodes_ , none of Rhun's men, or Manfred's," Cathan murmured, musing aloud. "That means someone in the service of one of the lesser lords, or—Yes. I know just the man. Lord Ainslie's son Robert—and I saw him in the hall earlier this evening. Do you remember him?"
"Of course. And he's perfect."
"I'll see if I can find him, then. I doubt he's gone down to the camp yet. I assume you'll want him to leave tonight?"
"Absolutely. And send Fulk in on your way out. I want to dictate another short document—something to provide for you, in case the other should need to be enforced. I'll want you to get it to Graham in the morning, before we leave."
Cathan looked at him sharply. "Rhysem, are you _sure_ you're not keeping something from me? You're not going to die!"
"I'm certainly not planning on it," Rhys Michael said, forcing a grin as he tried again to ease his hand. "Just covering my options. Now, back to the codicils—have we got a copy, or does Father Derfel still have them?"
"Derfel's got them," Cathan replied, "but I'll fetch one before I bring young Ainslie. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Fulk came to him within a few minutes, moving the little writing table closer to the bed with a rack of candles and settling on a stool behind it Reaching out with his mind, Rhys Michael confirmed that he was already controlled.
"You will take this down," Rhys Michael murmured, "but afterward, you will not remember that you have written it. Head it with today's date and place.
"'Unto Graham, Duke of Claibourne, and Sighere, Earl of Marley: In the event that you are successful in asserting your authority as regents after my death, as is my will and intention, I command and authorize you to confirm the appointment of Sir Cathan Cinhil Drummond as a fellow regent, as your first legal act following the assumption of your duties as regents...'"
When Fulk had finished taking the dictation, Rhys Michael read it over once, scrawled a reasonably legible signature at the foot, and had Fulk seal it. Fulk was just moving the table back from the bed when Cathan returned alone.
"Didn't you find him?" the king asked.
Cathan shook his head, coming to lay a hand on Fulk's shoulder.
"Go ahead to bed, Fulk. I'll take the first watch."
When Fulk had gone, closing the door behind him, Cathan came to crouch at the king's bedside.
"He's still drinking downstairs with the others, and I got the copy of the codicil, but it's going to be impossible to get him up here without anyone noticing. There are just too many people still about. If you want him to go tonight, the only thing I can suggest is to let me send him."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly, hugging his injured hand and suppressing a shiver. "I really wanted to send him myself."
"I know that. What if we were to delay until tomorrow, catch him sometime during the day, and let him slip away?"
Rhys Michael shook his head. "Too chancy. Once we leave here, I'll have even less privacy. Besides that, we don't know what condition I'll be in. I could get worse instead of better, though the tacil does seem to be lessening my fever." A giant yawn took him, sufficient to make his jaws ache when he had finished.
"All right. I know you can't set the same kinds of compulsions I was going to use, but do the best you can. Come closer, and I'll give you some direction. I'm giving you my signet to give to him as well; that will be Mika's guarantee that it really does come from me."
He set his instructions in Cathan's mind, gave him the signet for Robert and the new document to deliver to Graham MacEwan, then bade him Godspeed and sent him on his way. When Cathan had gone, he took up the cup with the syrup of poppies that Stevanus had left, drank it down, rinsed the cup with a little water, and drank that down, too. His arm seemed to be throbbing worse than ever, even though the fever did seem to be diminishing. He was heavily asleep by the time Cathan returned, some hours later, and slept without moving until a bell ringing Prime roused him to the now familiar throbbing of his arm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They gather themselves together against the soul of the righteous, and condemn the innocent blood.
—Psalms 94:21
At least his fever seemed to have lessened. His head ached almost as much as his arm, from the aftereffects of the syrup of poppies, and he knew he would have to take more to endure the jolting of a day's ride, but neither his brow nor his arm felt as hot as they had the night before. Stacia had left the tacil with them, and Cathan handed the king another dose of it before letting him even stir from bed.
Rhys Michael made a face at the bitter taste but drank it down. He groaned as he got out of bed and let Cathan help him set about washing and dressing. His whole body ached, and every movement was stiff.
"A lot of that is normal, considering what else you went through, in the process of getting stepped on," Fulk said cheerily, as he packed up their belongings in saddlebags. "Do you want Stevanus to see you before you go downstairs?"
"No, he won't give me any painkiller until I've eaten anyway. I'll see him in the hall after Mass."
"Very well. I'll take some of these down to the yard while you finish, then, and meet you both in the chapel."
As soon as he was gone, Rhys Michael glanced at Cathan, who was bringing the red brigandine to put on him. As on the day before, he wore leather breeches and boots and a loose-sleeved tunic, for he could not get the tunic of his riding leathers over his bandaged hand.
"I take it you got our friend away safely last night," he murmured.
Cathan settled the brigandine over the royal head and started doing up the side buckles. "Why don't you Read it direct while I do this? It's safer if we don't speak."
Closing his eyes, Rhys Michael set his good hand on Cathan's forearm and scanned for the memory, fetching out images of a slim but well-built young man with curly brown hair standing with his right hand clasped in Cathan's, the blue eyes all but veiled by long lashes, lightly entranced. Sir Robert Ainslie had fearlessly accepted the king's commission from Cathan, and offered no resistance when Cathan set such compulsions as he could.
"He was away before midnight," Cathan murmured, as Rhys Michael emerged from the probe. "Changing horses, and with minimal stops for rest, he should be in Rhemuth in about four days."
The king himself rode out of Lochalyn at midmorning, after hearing Mass with Lady Stacia, her family, and officers and eating rather more than he really wanted while standing in the castle's hall, after which Stevanus allowed him his pain medication. They were in the saddle soon after, with Graham, Sighere, and Corban riding with them for the first few miles as escort, accompanied by a score of fierce borderers. The men they had brought from Rhemuth went with them, but the levies from Caerrorie, Sheele, and Valoret would stay for another week or so, under the joint command of Joshua Delacroix and Iver MacInnis, in case the Torenthi withdrawal had been but a feint.
All too soon, time came for the three Kheldour lords to take personal leave of him, drawing rein to briefly touch gauntleted fists to armored breasts, proud heads inclining in wordless homage. Flanked by Rhun and Manfred, Rhys Michael could not go to them, but he read their fierce devotion as he bade them a formal farewell, wishing he could tell them what their loyalty meant to him, wishing he could stay.
As the mounted forms receded in a cloud of dust, heading back toward Lochalyn, Rhun and Manfred drew him on. The syrup of poppies was gradually lulling his pain to a dull ache, and soon his thoughts were less for regret of what he was leaving than minding that he did not doze and fall off his horse.
Meanwhile, from the slight disruption of the depleted Gwynedd camp, Ansel, Jesse, and Tieg had watched from the shade of a sprawling oak as the king rode past, noting the bandaged hand supported in a sling over his armor. He looked thinner than when he had arrived, pale and drawn. Tieg shook his head as the royal cavalcade receded, heading out across the plain of Iomaire.
"I certainly would like to have gotten a look at that hand," he murmured. "He looked as if he was in quite a bit of pain."
"I think you and I will pay a quick visit to Lady Stacia," Jesse said. "This may be our best chance, while the men are riding out with the king."
A quarter hour later, a servant was showing the two into the laird's solar at Lochalyn, where a slight, energetic girl-woman with a mane of dark red hair was sorting the contents of a pair of large chests. Several more women were sweeping and scrubbing, stripping the great bed, shaking out sleeping furs, bustling at the domestic chores involved in running a large household. A baby cooed contentedly in a nicely carved cradle, and a pair of shaggy grey wolfhounds lolled lethargically around it—ample reason why the servant had no qualms about bringing two strange young men to his lady's bower.
"These two men tae see ye, Lady Stacia."
The redheaded woman glanced at the two newcomers but continued folding a dull green tunic.
"Aye?"
Jesse inclined his head, reaching out to probe, but she was lightly shielded so he withdrew.
"We are friends of the king, my lady. May we speak with you in private?"
She flicked her gaze over them appraisingly.
"The king rode out an hour ago," she said.
"Aye, he did," Jesse replied.
The dark eyes flicked over them again; then she gestured toward a doorway in the corner of the room that led into a turret stair.
"Come ye this way," she said.
As they followed her, one of the wolfhounds bestirred itself to press past her up the spiral stair, waiting with tail-wagging impatience until she had opened the small door to the roof parapet and it could crowd through. The sun was warm and steady, gentled by a faint breeze. She dropped her hand to the wolfhound's head as she turned to face the two of them.
"Despite yer tweeds, I dinnae think ye be Kheldour men," she said. "I receive ye fer the sake o' the king, who is my liege. What is it ye wished tae say tae me?"
For answer, Jesse held out one cupped hand and conjured silvery handfire in it. The fire was pale in the direct sunlight, but she saw it, and her dark eyes widened. The wolfhound yawned.
"We came in hopes of helping the king, my lady," Jesse murmured, as he extinguished the fire. "Unfortunately, we were never able to get close enough to him to offer our assistance. My companion is a Healer. We hoped you might be able to tell us of the king's injury. It may be possible to gain access to him later, on the road."
Her gaze shifted over Tieg's lanky, gangling frame, then back to Jesse.
"He didnae mention that he had Deryni helpin' him," she said.
"The great lords must not know," Jesse replied. "Friendship with Deryni has already been the death of one Haldane king."
"It's true, then," she murmured. "He said they had killed his brother Javan an' others, that he has been spared only tae breed heirs."
"If he told you that, then it's clear he trusts you," Tieg said. "Will you trust us? We need to know about his injury."
Stacia bit at her lip, fondling at the dog's ears.
"Ye need tae know more'n that," she murmured. "The hand isnae good—a horse trod on it, an' bones were crushed—but I dinnae think 'tis only that wha' worries him. He had a document drawn, appointin' Uncle Sighere an' my cousin Graham as regents."
"A document?" Jesse breathed, exchanging a glance with Tieg.
Drawing careful breath, the young Healer moved a step closer to Stacia, the hazel eyes dark and serious in the boyish face.
"My lady, we have many questions and not much time. I think you know as well as we, how desperate is the king's plight. We know your mother was Deryni. Will you allow me to Read the details we need? I give you my word, on my Healer's oath, that I will do you no harm, nor Read past what concerns the king."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Yer voice is a man's, but can ye be old enou' tae have sworn the Healer's oath?" she said.
He grinned in return, looking a little sheepish. "My teachers tell me I am something of a prodigy. My father was a Healer called Rhys Thuryn. Perhaps you've heard of him."
"Och, aye." Her smile turned to a grin to match his own. "An' Rhys Thuryn an' his kin were e'er friends o' the Haldane line. Wha' will ye have me do?"
"Crouch down here beside me," he said, flicking a wary eye toward the wolfhound as he dropped to his knees, "and please reassure your friend that I mean you no harm."
"Conn? Och, he's but a big baby. He willnae hurt ye."
As she slipped to a sitting position with her back to the parapet wall, the wolfhound merely settled and laid its great head in her lap. Jesse had turned his gaze out over the wall, watching for the return of Stacia's kin, and glanced down at them as Stacia settled.
"Try to make this quick," he murmured.
"As quick as I can."
She closed her eyes before Tieg could even clasp her head between his hands. The shielding both he and Jesse had sensed melted away at the first touch of his probe, and she breathed out a tiny sigh as he gently took control. After blocking what little power she had, he drove deep, assimilating all her memories since Rhys Michael's arrival. The king's plan was brilliant, if it worked—and a dangerous gamble. But knowing of it, they perhaps could help facilitate its success, if the great lords called his bluff.
The condition of the king's injured hand was less encouraging, though Tieg decided that the "tacil" Stacia's midwife had given the king for fever probably was talicil, a mainstay of the Healer's pharmacopoeia; it would have been his choice as well. He regretted that he had none with him to give her, to replace what had been sent with the king, for with the village Healer long dead, there would be no more until Deryni once more could walk freely in Gwynedd.
But he had learned what he needed to know. He restored Stacia's meager powers—a smattering of shields only, with perhaps a hint of Truth-Reading ability that would never come through as more than hunches—then gave her a brief assurance of the support that others of the king's friends might be expected to give in assisting the Kheldour regency, if it came to that. She blinked and peered at him as he brought her out of trance.
"My mother was better a' this than I am," she murmured, one hand shifting to caress the wolfhound's ears. "I dinnae know what help I can be to the king."
"You can be his eyes and ears here in Eastmarch," Jesse replied. He had crouched down beside them, to read the spillover from Tieg while the Healer worked. "If Graham and Sighere can achieve the regency, if anything should happen to the king, at least there's a chance of eventually breaking the power of the great lords. With Albertus and Paulin already out of the picture, the process may already have started, if we can keep up the momentum."
"If the king dies," Stacia said, lifting her chin determinedly, "Graham an' Sighere will be at the gates o' Rhemuth with armed men at their backs, demandin' their rights, an' the rights o' the young prince. We willnae fail him, Master Healer. Tell him that, if ye can see him. An' tell the rest o' his Deryni friends."
"I will that, my lady," Tieg replied.
Since the king's arrival in Lochalyn, Joram had ordered that someone be on duty at all times in the domed chamber where the Camberian Council met, with a monitoring link ready for activation at any time Ansel or one of his party should attempt to open communication. When Tieg sought contact after his and Jesse's return from Lochalyn, it was Queron Kinevan on duty. Within half an hour of receiving Tieg's report, he had the other available members of the rebels' leadership gathered around the octagonal table and had shared Tieg's intelligence.
"The codicil idea is brilliant," Joram acknowledged, "but can he pull it off?"
Queron shrugged. "I certainly have the impression that Stacia and her menfolk will do whatever _they_ can to enforce the decree, should that become necessary. Fortunately, their loyalty totally outweighs the fact that they'd stand to benefit if the king did die, so we don't need to worry about them helping him along."
"True enough," Niallan agreed, "and the very threat that the codicil exists should be sufficient to keep Rhun and Manfred in line, because they no longer stand to benefit from his death, if they have to share a regency with Kheldour. Once they know about it, I should think they'd do everything in their power to keep the king alive. It's a pity he couldn't have promulgated a second document as well, denouncing his great lords and calling upon his loyal Kheldour lords to free him and his family from their tyranny. They would have helped him, if he'd elected to stay; he's going home because of Michaela and the young prince."
"You're assuming," Dom Rickart said, "that the king will survive his injuries." He folded his pale Healer's hands before him as if in prayer, tapping his fingertips against his lips. "All our impressions are several times removed, of course, but the fever is worrisome. While we must bless that unknown Healer who left a legacy of talicil to the goodwoman Lady Stacia brought to the king, talicil may not be enough."
"Are you saying this injury may be life-threatening?" Joram asked.
Rickart shrugged. "That's impossible to say, without actually examining him. He has fever; he's in considerable pain. Quite aside from the fact that I mistrust the motives of any _Custodes_ surgeon, I very much doubt that the good Master Stevanus was able to set the shattered bones correctly. If the hand heals that way, even if there are no other complications, movement is almost certain to be impaired. And as Queron will tell you—or Camlin, whose wrists will never be quite right—it is not always possible to effect full corrective Healing after the fact."
Camlin rubbed at one of his wrists, nodding, feeling for the king. "Couldn't we send a Healer to intercept the king's party?" he asked. "Perhaps in disguise—"
Joram shook his head. "The only likely outcome of that is of losing another good man—if not the Healer himself, apprehended before he could even reach the king, then perhaps the king himself, once it was discovered that he had been Healed."
"I thought we'd already agreed that the codicil would protect him," Niallan said.
"It _could_ protect _him, if_ they believe he's actually executed it and managed to get the copies dispersed; it wouldn't necessarily protect the Healer."
"There's some danger, I agree," Queron muttered. "I still feel that a Healer ought to see him."
Niallan raised a grey eyebrow. "You surely don't propose that we risk Tieg?"
"No, no, I had myself in mind," Queron replied. He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Now, don't all of you jump on me; I know what I'm proposing. I was looking at the map while I waited for all of you to arrive. They'll certainly overnight at Saint Cassian's tonight, but they're headed back the same way they came, toward Ebor and Sheele and Valoret. I'm the first to admit that using the Portals at any of those locations is too dangerous, but there's the secondary Portal at Caerrorie, which isn't that far off the line of march. I could disguise myself as an itinerant monk, a hospitaller of some sort, make my way from Caerrorie to Valoret, and then head north on the King's Road until I meet with the returning army."
"And then what?" Joram demanded. "Walk right up to Rhun and introduce yourself and demand to see the king?"
Queron rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, drumming his fingertips on his chair arm.
"Of course not. But I can find out what the king's condition is by then. If it proves impossible for _me_ to see him without subjecting myself to unreasonable risk, perhaps I can at least influence someone who does have access to him, if things can be done for him via conventional medicine that aren't being done."
"Those risks are acceptable," Rickart said, before Joram could disagree. "For that matter, it might be possible for Tieg to do much the same sort of thing, until Queron can get there to take over. We could ask him and Ansel and Jesse to shadow the army as they head south and watch for opportunities to find out more."
The creases in Niallan's brow had been deepening as Rickart spoke, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I—ah—believe we may be losing sight of the fact that Tieg is not yet fourteen. I know he looks older, with all that gangly height and those big hands, but I'd be very surprised if he yet has the conventional training to do that kind of infiltration. Correct me if I'm wrong, but so far as I was aware, the bulk of his preparation to date has been centered around his vocation as a Healer."
"That's quite true," Queron replied, "and I'm not prepared to risk him, under any circumstances. But Ansel and Jesse do have the necessary skills to ferret out the kind of information Rickart was talking about. They could have collected a great deal of valuable information by the time I meet up with them. And if Tieg's assessments as a Healer are necessary, those can be done indirectly, without risking him overmuch.
"I really think this is the only reasonable approach we can take, just now," he went on. "The twin factors of the codicil and the king's injury make this both a more and less stable situation than it has been for the past six years. It may totally change what we were planning for year's end. I think we're going to have to be both flexible and conservative in our approach until we see how the current situation resolves."
They continued to discuss practicalities of the coming exercise for another hour, also agreeing that while Rhysel ought be alerted to what was happening, the queen should not be told.
"I fear for the poor lass, if the king doesn't make it through this," Queron told Joram, after the others had returned to the sanctuary. "This pregnancy still has a long way to go. If she should lose the king _and_ this new baby, the way she lost the first one, I don't know that we'll ever be able to salvage the Haldane line—or if it's worth even trying anymore. One four-year-old prince isn't much on which to base a strong dynasty."
Joram only shook his head and dropped it to one hand. "Queron, I don't even want to _think_ about that possibility," he murmured. "And I don't want to think about what I'll do if anything happens to _you_. Since we found out about the queen's new pregnancy, we've been focusing our preparations to make a major attempt at shifting the balance back in Rhys Michael's favor later in the year; but don't lose sight of what you and I have been doing for the last six years, in addition to monitoring the Haldane situation."
Queron smiled and reached out to pat Joram's hand. "You're a dutiful son and brother, Joram," he murmured. "For a man who didn't want to have anything to do with his father's sainthood, you keep displaying startling evidence of belief. I don't intend to do anything stupid, though. I'm well aware that, whether we succeed or fail with the Haldanes, Deryni fortunes will not be restored easily or quickly. Reestablishing a viable cult of Saint Camber may give our people hope for the long term, so that eventually we _can_ resume a place of equal partnership again."
"I'd certainly appreciate a little assistance from Saint Camber in the present venture," Joram murmured. "Unfortunately, he seems to have a mind of his own regarding when and where he makes an appearance." He cocked an eyebrow. "Father always did have a mind of his own."
"As do you," Queron said, smiling. "As did your sister. We shall hope that her son has not inherited that aspect of his mother's stubbornness, when I give him his instructions. Perhaps I'll be able to reach Jesse or Ansel instead and urge them to keep a tight rein on young Tieg."
Joram finally allowed himself a hint of a grin. "I'll leave you to it, then, and start making what arrangements I can from sanctuary. Camlin will come to relieve you when you're ready."
Meanwhile, many miles south, Archbishop Hubert MacInnis was receiving news long known to Joram and his kin but just come to Rhemuth. A _Custodes_ monk called Brother Fabius had arrived at the Gwynedd capital just at dusk, with news so dire that Hubert could barely believe what he was hearing. He and Father Secorim, who was _Custodes_ abbot at the cathedral, had been visiting the ailing Archbishop Oriss when the exhausted monk was shown into the parlour near Oriss' sickroom.
"Dimitri killed Albertus?" Hubert murmured, when the man had gasped out the gist of his news. "And Paulin is not expected to survive?"
While Secorim questioned the man further, for he and Paulin had been friends since seminary days, Hubert quickly scanned over the written confirmations the man had brought—assessments from both Rhun and Lior—still unable to believe what he was reading.
"I must summon the council," Hubert said, folding the parchment pages and slipping them under his cincture. "Secorim, do you wish to come? I'd guess you're as likely as anyone to replace Paulin, if he doesn't recover. At very least, you can deputize for him for the present."
"I'll come," Secorim said. "Brother Fabius, please come along as well. The council may wish to question you further."
Half an hour later, they were seated around one end of the long table in the council chamber, now joined by Tammaron, Richard Murdoch, and the young Earl of Tarleton Bonner Sinclair, whose father had been Earl of Tarleton before he became Lord Albertus of the _Custodes Fidei_. Though Albertus and his eldest son had not been especially close, young Tarleton still looked stunned, as did the rest of them.
"I blame myself," Hubert murmured, when the messenger again had related the gist of his news and then Secorim had read aloud the texts sent by Rhun and Lior. "It was I who recruited Dimitri. And all these years—Dear God, have I sent them all into a trap? Was Dimitri working for Torenth all along and this all was a ruse to lure the king to a meeting on Torenth's terms?"
"If it was," Richard said coldly, "their strategy did not think far enough ahead. Even if the king perishes, we still have the heir and another on the way. Do you really think Marek of Festil is strong enough to assault the gates of Rhemuth to press his claim? No. We still hold the important cards."
"You're probably right," Tammaron said. "Nonetheless, I think it might be best if we pull additional troops from elsewhere to defend the city—just in case we've underestimated Marek. Richard, your lands are closest. How many men can you call up from Carthane?"
"How many would you like?" Richard replied. "A hundred? More than that? I should think we can also draw upon _Custodes_ troops," he added, glancing at Secorim.
Secorim nodded. "I can secure perhaps a hundred overnight, from the garrison outside _Arx Fidei_ Abbey. More, if I summon from farther afield, but a lot went north with the king."
Richard shook his head, busy jotting figures on a scrap of parchment. "No, an additional two hundred should be sufficient for now. If a messenger leaves at once, my men can be here within two days. Practically speaking, I don't think it's necessary to fortify any more than that until we hear further from Rhun. We do have to feed all those extra men if we bring them in, after all."
Hubert had begun to recover his equilibrium and nodded agreement.
"I quite agree. We should wait for further clarification of the situation before we let ourselves be stampeded into any sort of panic. Richard is perfectly correct in pointing out that we still hold the controlling factor, in young Prince Owain. To that end, however"—he glanced at Tammaron—"I believe it would be wise if we keep any knowledge of this latest development from the queen. It also may become necessary to confiscate future missives from the king, if he mentions anything to do with this latest development."
"Are you concerned about another miscarriage, if anything should happen to the king?" Richard asked.
Hubert nodded. "It may become necessary to confine the queen to her bed for the remainder of her pregnancy. Tammaron, I rely upon you to instruct the court physicians accordingly. No action is to be taken yet—I do not think mere news and rumors of news would be sufficient to match the shock that brought on the first miscarriage—but we must hold ourselves in readiness. And it goes without saying that the safety of Prince Owain now becomes even more important than it long has been."
"I'll see about streamlining the running of the royal household," Tammaron said. "With reasonable care, things should be able to drift along as they have done, for at least another week or two, but appropriate precautions will be taken."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Keep thee far from the man that hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
—Ecclesiasticus 9:13
While the great lords in Rhemuth pondered what had occurred at Saint Cassian's nearly a week before, the royal party was returning there en route home. For Rhys Michael, most of the day had passed in a merciful narcotic blur, though that had mostly worn off by the time they rode into the abbey yard, just at dusk. The first news to greet them was that Paulin of Ramos had died the night before and been buried that morning in the abbey crypt beside his brother.
Though hardly unexpected, the news elicited a wave of pious lamentation among the _Custodes_ members of the king's party, with appropriate mouthings of regret from Rhun and Manfred and the junior officers in their immediate vicinity. Before quarters could even be assigned for those lodging within the abbey precincts, a joint summons came from Father Lior and the abbot for the king and his principal officers to join the _Custodes_ clergy in the crypt beneath the church for special prayers beside Paulin's tomb. Rhys Michael tried to plead exhaustion to get out of it, for he could think of few actions more hypocritical on his part than pretending to pray for Paulin's soul, but Rhun made it clear that he must at least affect the appearance of regret.
Accordingly, the king knelt in the crypt with the rest of them and mouthed the prescribed prayers and tried not to think about his throbbing hand or the fever still simmering in his brow. He emerged into the evening coolness to find that gossip was spreading to the camp about Deryni involvement in Paulin's death. Clearly, the circumstances of his illness had not been forgotten by a week's absence. A little later, at table in the abbot's refectory, conversation inevitably turned to Paulin's death.
"In retrospect, I suppose it was folly to expect the outcome could have been any different," the abbot said, responding to a question by Manfred. "What chance had he against Deryni sorcery?"
"Surely you continued the exorcisms, the purifications," Lior murmured.
"And the prayers of the entire community," the abbot said, staring into his cup. "The taint remains, though, Father. I fear it shall take a prolonged period of fasting and prayer and mortification to cleanse this House of it."
Shaking his head, Manfred glanced at Rhun, who seemed to be biting back a caustic comment, then at Brother Polidorus, the abbey's infirmarian, who was sitting farther down the table next to Master Stevanus.
"I am no churchman," he said uneasily, "but it seems obvious to me that all was done that _could_ be done, for his spiritual well-being. A pity nothing availed for his physical recovery."
Brother Polidorus raised an eyebrow and pushed his goblet away a little.
"We did try, my lord, but as Father Abbot has said, the prognosis was poor from the start. He could not eat. He could not control his bodily functions. His heart remained strong and he continued to breathe, but my helpers and I were never able to elicit any kind of response.
"Except when he was bled," he amended, almost as an afterthought. "Several times, he seemed on the verge of stirring, and we hoped this might be evidence that the taint was leaving him." He shook his head. "But he never regained consciousness. At least I do not think he felt anything, there at the end. God grant him peace," he concluded, crossing himself piously.
Rhys Michael echoed the gesture along with the rest at table, but he could not find it in his heart to regret Paulin's fate. As he stifled a yawn and tried to find a more comfortable posture, he found himself wondering whether the bleeding that Polidorus had mentioned might have hastened Paulin to his reward, for the _Custodes_ were known to use—and misuse—bloodletting as part of their internal discipline within the Order. He wondered whether they might view it as an alternative coup de grâce for one of their own with no hope of recovery, though the coup generally was limited to fatal battle injuries in the field, and the Church maintained only a precarious peace with the practice. He remembered hearing how a _Custodes_ battle surgeon had given the coup thus to Murdoch of Carthane, the day after Javan's coronation—or rather, Rhun had done it under _Custodes_ direction. More normally, the _Custodes_ used bleeding as a means of discipline and intimidation, sometimes unto death. If Paulin had succumbed to loss of blood, Rhys Michael could not but think it fitting, to taste the fate he had inflicted on many others.
But his own fate was far more on his mind just now. After a while longer of listening to the _Custodes_ mouth platitudes and make noises of regret, he excused himself and retired with Cathan and Fulk to the quarters the abbot had allocated him on his previous visit. He was dragging with exhaustion as they helped him out of his armor and into bed, and he lay there shivering under several sleeping furs until Cathan brought him another dose of the tacil. Though no one had summoned him, Stevanus came in very shortly with Brother Polidorus and another, younger monk carrying a small wooden chest and a two-branched candlestick for more light. Cathan had just set the empty cup and the little earthen flask of tacil on a small table beside the bed and tried to push them farther into shadow before the monk set the candlestick on the table.
"I want to change your dressing and see how you're faring after a day in the saddle, Sire," Stevanus said, setting down his medical satchel on the foot of the bed. "Brother Polidorus also thought to have a look at you. Brother Deiniol, could you fetch us a basin and some hot water, please?"
As the younger monk disappeared to obey, Rhys Michael reluctantly pulled his bandaged hand out from under the furs and let Stevanus begin unwrapping it, while Polidorus felt his forehead and made _tsk_ ing sounds.
"Dear, dear me. These things are always so tiresome when broken bones _and_ wounds are involved. The forearm looks clean enough. I see no red streaks."
"Aye, but there's fever in it," Stevanus said.
"Yes, I can feel that."
"And the laceration shows more inflammation than I would like. I also don't know what may be going on around the bones that were crushed. There's still too much swelling and bruising to see or feel much."
As he exposed the hand and the two started poking and prodding, Rhys Michael gasped and even cried out, trying not to squirm with the pain. At Stevanus' summons, Cathan and Fulk came to help hold the arm steady while the examination continued, and Brother Deiniol returned with towels, a basin, and a steaming pitcher, which he set beside the fireplace.
"I think perhaps those sutures should come out," Polidorus said, drawing back to wipe his hands on a clean towel. "The flesh is very swollen, the skin taut and shiny. I would say that the wound wants cautery to burn out the impurities. Have you bled him yet?"
"I didn't want to weaken him," Stevanus began.
"No! I won't be bled!" Rhys Michael whispered, sitting up in alarm. "And I don't want cautery. I'm making good progress. Just give me time."
"If you hope to keep the hand," Polidorus said coldly, "then you must allow us to do what we think best." He gave a curt nod to his assistant, who turned back to the fireplace and began taking things out of the chest he had brought. "The crushed bones may yet necessitate more aggressive treatment," he went on, returning his attention to Stevanus, "but we can postpone that for now, see how he looks in a day or two. What are you giving him for the pain, syrup of poppies?"
"Aye."
"But I can't stay here!" Rhys Michael protested. "I have to ride tomorrow—"
"Well, give him half again the dose you've been giving," Polidorus continued, paying the king no mind at all. "And you, sir—" He nodded to Fulk. "Fill that basin with very hot water, and we'll get his hand soaking. The heat will draw out some of the inflammation and also ease the removal of the sutures."
"I've told you, no," Rhys Michael said again. "Leave the sutures. I don't want cautery, and I won't be bled."
"Don't be foolish. You're in no condition to know what you want, or what's best for you," Polidorus muttered, turning away to supervise his assistant.
As Stevanus also withdrew, pulling his satchel from the end of the bed to measure out the painkiller Polidorus had ordered, Rhys Michael pulled Cathan closer with his good hand.
"Go and tell Rhun what they're doing," he whispered. And added, in Cathan's mind, _Tell him I refuse to stay here and that if I die, they're going to have a different regency than they bargained on. Tell him about the codicil_ — _but you haven't got an original copy, and I've ordered you not to tell who does_. "Hurry."
Stevanus looked annoyed as Cathan nodded and turned away to dash out the door, and he was shaking his head as he brought a small metal medicine cup filled with syrup of poppies.
"Sire, Rhun isn't going to interfere in this," he said, holding out the cup. "Drink this down now. You needn't make this any more difficult than it has to be."
"I don't want the cautery," Rhys Michael said stubbornly, ignoring the cup. "You can soak the hand if you want—I can see how that might help—but the wound isn't bleeding. And I won't be bled; I might be too weak to ride. I can't stay here. I have to be able to keep traveling. I have to get back to Michaela."
"Sire, are you trained as a surgeon?" Polidorus said pointedly.
"No, of course not."
"Then do not presume to tell me my business. Take this and drink it. What must be done will be done, with or without this help. Don't force me to have you held."
As he pressed the cup into Rhys Michael's good hand, Fulk brought a steaming basin to the right side of the bed, looking uneasy as Polidorus came to move the bedside table closer. The earthen flask of tacil and the empty cup were still sitting on the little table, and the monk had to move them before he could spread the towel hung over Fulk's arm. He sniffed curiously at the cup as Fulk set the basin down.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It's something for the fever," Rhys Michael said, before Fulk or Stevanus could reply. "It seems to be helping. The chatelaine at Lochalyn Castle gave it to me."
"Some folk remedy, eh? What is it called?" The monk glanced at Stevanus as he opened the flask and then peered inside and sniffed again.
"The old midwife with her called it tacil," Stevanus replied. "Lady Stacia said her mother used to get it from a Healer who's since died."
"From a Healer? Then it's a Deryni drug!" Polidorus said, holding it away from him with a grimace of distaste. "I'll have none of that under _this_ roof!"
"No, it's helping me!" Rhys Michael cried. Still encumbered with the cup in his good hand, he made an inadvertent grab for the monk with his injured one—and jarred it against the edge of the basin with enough force to bring tears to his eyes, just as Stevanus rescued the cup of painkiller.
"Don't be impertinent, Sire," Polidorus muttered, as Rhys Michael curled defensively over the injured hand, gasping, and Fulk moved in protectively. "Brother Deiniol, get rid of this. Burn it or something."
"But, it _does_ seem to be helping," Stevanus said uncertainly, though he blocked Fulk from interfering with the younger monk, who came and took the flask from Polidorus.
"Nonsense." Polidorus shook out another towel with a snap and spread it on the bed beside the table. "If it's Deryni, it can't possibly be helpful. Now, give me that hand, Sire, and let's get it to soaking before the water gets cold. Stevanus, either persuade him to drink that or get some strong men in here to hold him down."
As Rhys Michael heard the smash of pottery down the garderobe shaft, he sank back against his pillows in dismay, gasping but no longer resisting as Polidorus took his injured hand and plunged it into the steaming water. The tacil _had_ helped—he was sure of it—but now there would be no more relief from that quarter. And all because a Deryni had made it...
Queasy and disheartened, jaws clenched against the heat coiled around his hand, Rhys Michael anxiously watched the younger monk return to the fireplace, where Polidorus had gone to check the cautery instruments heating in the fire. As Stevanus put the little cup of painkiller back in his good hand, he reflected that his only hope was for Cathan to get Rhun here before these _Custodes_ butchers started doing really horrible things to him.
It was not just the threat of pain that set terror in his heart. He could have submitted to cautery with hardly a whimper if convinced that it would be beneficial, but the thought of being bled sent a cold chill of dread down his spine, especially since he had heard of Paulin's treatment. He turned the little cup nervously in his fingers as his mind flashed back over his own reluctant acquaintance with the practice.
The first time, though he could not remember it, had been after his "rescue" from his kidnappers, to make him think he had lost more blood from his "wounds" than he actually had. Stevanus himself probably had been responsible for that one. They had bled him occasionally during those awful months after Javan's murder, to keep him weak; and he had been bled several times just before his coronation, so that he would display a paleness and lethargy appropriate to long illness.
There were legitimate medical reasons for bloodletting, of course. And he knew it was a common enough monastic discipline in some religious houses, sometimes permitted as a voluntary aid to preserving chastity, since lowering the blood also lowered inclinations to "passions of the flesh." _Minution_ , they called it, from the Latin _minuere_ , to lessen or diminish.
But the _Custodes_ had a less benign use for it—not only a required test of the vow of obedience but also, in some cases, a vehicle of intimidation. Javan had told him how they bled an innocent priest called Faelan, trying to force him to reveal why Javan had requested his services as a confessor; they had even bled Javan himself, during his stay in the monastery, to demonstrate their absolute power over him.
_Believe me_ , Javan had told him one night, _there are few more helpless feelings in the world than watching your lifeblood pump out of your veins and knowing that if it suits them, those in authority over you have the power to forbid a halt_...
Polidorus' return with a new pitcher of hot water brought an abrupt release from _that_ image, though the monk's intent was hardly more reassuring as he bent to check the temperature of the water. Blessedly, and somewhat to Rhys Michael's surprise, the hot water actually was starting to ease the ache in his hand, after the initial shock. But when Polidorus began slowly pouring more hot water into the basin around the hand, increasing the temperature, the king remembered the cup in his good hand and gulped down about half the contents before handing it off to Stevanus.
"You ought to drink it all," the battle surgeon murmured, glancing into the cup. "That isn't enough to put you under."
"I don't _want_ to be put under," Rhys Michael said stubbornly. "I have to be coherent when I talk to Rhun."
"That won't change anything," Stevanus replied. "At least lie back and let what you've drunk take effect. This first part won't be too bad."
"Sire, shall I go and see what's keeping Cathan?" Fulk asked a little nervously, from over nearer the door.
Rhys Michael shook his head and closed his eyes briefly, heartened that Fulk had offered that assistance on his own, belatedly wishing he had dared to set stronger compulsions in the young knight, who could not help the fact that his father was one of the men responsible for the king's servitude.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," he whispered. "Just don't leave me alone."
"Just don't _interfere_ ," Brother Polidorus amended sharply, bending to peer more closely at his reluctant patient's hand.
For the moment, neither Rhys Michael nor Fulk had any choice but to comply. At least for now, in just the short time the king's hand had been submerged, either the heat or the drug or a combination of the two had eased the pain substantially. Some of that relief was canceled out when Polidorus began cleaning around the laceration, though it did not hurt as much as he had feared. At least the monk's touch was gentle.
What did hurt was when Stevanus started probing out the first of the sutures to be removed, for the stitches were deeply embedded. Resistance only made the surgeon's task more difficult and brought further sharp threats of physical restraint from Polidorus, who was steadying the hand, so Rhys Michael gave it up and lay back, turning his face away so he would not have to see his blood reddening the water in the bowl. Closing his eyes was not an option, because if he did, he could feel himself starting to float with the lethargy brought by the syrup of poppies. That was dangerous until after he had talked to Rhun. So long as he kept his eyes open—
"What the devil is going on?" an angry voice intruded suddenly—Rhun's—as Rhys Michael came alert with a start. "Stevanus, what are you doing?"
"It was my opinion," Brother Polidorus said, "that his Highness' wound should be cauterized to burn out the impurities. I believe he should be bled as well. For now, the hot water is drawing out the inflammation."
Rhun stalked over to look at the hand in its basin, flicked a glance to Rhys Michael's face—taut with discomfort and defiance, the grey eyes dilated from the painkiller—then swept a hand around the room.
"All right, everyone out of here. I'll speak to his Highness in private. Cathan, you may stay."
Stevanus set aside his instruments and hurriedly dried his hands, sketching Rhun a nervous bow before heading for the door, Fulk accompanying him. Polidorus let Cathan escort him and his assistant after them, but paused to murmur something to Cathan before the younger man closed him out of the room. Cathan latched the door, then came to take the king's hand from the basin and set it on a clean towel.
"What are you doing?" Rhun demanded, as Cathan took the basin to dump it down the garderobe.
"Brother Polidorus said I should put the king's hand to soak in clean water while we talk," Cathan replied, returning to the fireplace to refill the basin with hot water. "That will prevent further contamination and continue drawing out the inflammation. I don't agree with the cautery, if the king doesn't want it, but I do agree with this."
As he brought the basin back to the king's bedside and eased the hand into the fresh water, watched suspiciously by Rhun, Rhys Michael allowed himself a tiny sigh and murmured his thanks, then turned his gaze to the earl marshal, who was staring at him from the foot of the bed.
"Thank you for coming," the king murmured, concerned that he had to concentrate to keep Rhun in focus.
"It doesn't appear that I had much choice," Rhun said. "What's this ridiculous story Cathan has been telling me about some codicil to your will that you had drawn up in Eastmarch?"
"It isn't a story, and it isn't ridiculous," the king said quietly. "If I die before an heir of mine comes of age, the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley are irrevocably appointed as regents, regardless of whoever else you ramrod through the council. And before you even have a chance to kill them, they'll have appointed their own successors—and their successors will appoint successors. Kheldour will have a say in the next regency."
"Kheldour will be running the kingdom," Rhun said testily, "and the next thing you know, Kheldour will be providing the next king."
"I don't think so," Rhys Michael replied. "And if they did, they couldn't do much worse than your lot have done. You never gave Alroy a chance to be a real king, and you killed Javan when it looked as if he might be one. And you've only been keeping me alive until you were sure you had an heir and a spare to mold in exactly the image you wanted. If it isn't to be a free Haldane king on the throne of Gwynedd, Rhun, I think I might prefer one from Kheldour. The Duke of Claibourne would make an excellent king. Or maybe Kheldour can give my sons a free crown."
"I don't believe a word of this," Rhun said. "You're bluffing."
Rhys Michael laid his head back on his pillows and glanced at the ceiling.
"Show him the draft copy, Cathan." And as Cathan went to the king's saddlebag to get it, Rhys Michael added, "And don't think that you can simply destroy all the copies and pretend they never existed. There are a number of them—I won't tell you how many—and at least one is bound to reach the hands of those best equipped to make proper use of it. I'll tell you right now that none of them are in my hands anymore."
As Cathan brought the draft copy over to Rhun, the earl marshal snatched it out of his hand and took it over by the fire to read it. His face was white as he looked up at the king, and he slowly refolded the piece of parchment as he returned to the foot of the bed. Cathan had gone to stand with his back against the door.
"What is it you want?" Rhun asked, creasing the parchment between nervous fingers as he stared appraisingly at the king.
Closing his eyes briefly, Rhys Michael allowed himself to breathe a faint sigh of relief, trying not to drift as he sank deeper into the thrall of the syrup of poppies.
"First of all, I want to get home," he whispered. "I want to see my wife and son. I don't want cautery, I don't want to be bled, and I don't want anyone to cut off my hand. If we still had Healers—if your colleagues hadn't shot Oriel down like an animal, six years ago—he would have been with me at Culliecairn, and this probably never would have gotten to this state. Without one—well, I simply have to hope I'll be lucky. If I'm not, you can blame it on your precious _Custodes_. The ever-pious Brother Polidorus threw out the 'Deryni' drug that Lady Stacia gave me to take my fever down. It was helping, but that didn't matter; a Healer had made it. Therefore, it was evil."
Whatever Rhun was thinking, his lean face revealed none of it. After a taut pause, he said, "I somehow expected the Deryni sympathy."
"It isn't Deryni sympathy; it's acknowledgment that Healers were a good thing," Rhys Michael said. "I'd give a great deal to have one here right now. But that isn't going to happen, because by going after the Deryni, you've lost us the Healers as well."
Rhun shrugged, still toying with the folded piece of parchment, but his eyes had gone hooded and dangerous. "It's pointless to argue about this. You've given me a list of things you _don't_ want done to your hand, and you've said you want to go home. What happens then?"
"Once I'm home and well?" Rhys Michael allowed himself a faint smile. "You'd like to know that, wouldn't you? For now, if I were you, I'd worry about keeping me alive. And it's also in your best interests to keep Cathan alive," he added, improvising to protect his brother-in-law but not revealing the conditional appointment as regent, which would spell his death. "If anything happens to him, you are personally named as the one responsible, Rhun. If you kill the queen's brother, you'll hang. I drew documents to protect him, too."
Rhun nodded, anger now smouldering openly in the pale eyes. "That's what all that little dance outside the privies was about, isn't it?" he said. "You _told_ me to look inside, and I didn't."
Rhys Michael chuckled weakly. "I didn't sign the documents in the privy, Rhun. There was a tiny room off the stair, just a few steps up. Sighere helped create the diversion so I could dart back down and make you think I'd come out of the garderobe."
"I suppose Fulk was a part of it, too? Cathan I can understand—he's kin. But Fulk—"
"No, he was a dupe," Rhys Michael replied. "He hadn't a clue what was going on. He'd have gone straight to his father."
"Tammaron will still kill him," Rhun muttered.
"I hope not. He's a good man, and he'll be as appalled as you to learn how he was used."
Rhun let out an explosive snort and set his hands on his hips, glancing at the floor, then cocked his head at the king.
"All right. I'm a practical man, Sire, so let's get down to practicalities. What shall we do about your hand? If you should die from it because you won't accept sound medical advice, that isn't _my_ fault."
"You'd better hope I _don't_ die from it," Rhys Michael replied. "Have a look. You've ample field experience. What do you think?"
He lifted it slightly from the basin, to the sound of dripping water, glanced at it, men looked away queasily as he let it back down. As he had hoped, Rhun came over to inspect it more dispassionately, lifting it slightly out of the water with two fingers from under the palm and then shifting his gaze to the grey Haldane eyes—and was snared in them, as Rhys Michael had intended, though the king drew in his controls gently, so Rhun would not realize what was happening.
"It looks as if Stevanus started removing the sutures," Rhun said.
Rhys Michael nodded. "I couldn't stop him."
Rhun blinked. "It will let the wound drain, if you won't let him cauterize."
"If it were your hand, would you let him cauterize it?" Rhys Michael asked. "Tell me truly."
Rhun looked at him and blinked again, sinking deeper into the spell. "I—don't know. There's fever here and local infection, but no sign of poisoning going up the arm. Still, if you really intend to keep traveling with this—"
"I _must_ be able to travel, Rhun," he said softly. "I want to get home. I'll do it flat on my back in a horse-litter, if I must, but I have to keep moving. I don't know what's going to happen with this, but I—want to see my wife and son."
He set his good hand on Rhun's wrist at that, clasping his fingers around and using the closer contact to press deeper. Rhun's eyes closed, and he started to sway on his feet, but Cathan came to support him from behind, though he held back from any further involvement as Rhys Michael drove deeper still.
It was difficult to stay focused, with the syrup of poppies dulling his concentration, but he feared he might never have another chance like this. Skimming over the filth and guilt and hatred he knew was there, not touching their earlier conversation about the documents, he set a succession of irresistible commands—some of which he would probably regret, when called to final judgment, but which would serve what must be done, to secure a Haldane future. It took a while, but he had been thinking about what he needed to do while he waited for Rhun to show up.
When he was finished, he blocked all memory or access to what he had done, released Rhun's wrist, then released Rhun himself to the new instructions set deep in his mind. Cathan very quietly returned to his place against the door.
"I'm very tired now," Rhys Michael murmured, as Rhun blinked. Rhys Michael let the injured hand back into the water—cooler now than when they had begun—then looked up at Rhun again. "Could we please ask Master Stevanus to come back and rebandage my hand? And it's understood that there isn't going to be any cautery or bleeding?"
Straightening, Rhun picked up one of the towels and dried his hands, his jaw set, the anger back in his eyes.
"You're a very stubborn man, Sire. You always have been. If you're determined to continue on tomorrow, thought—"
The king allowed himself a yawn that was not at all feigned. "I really don't care to discuss this further, my lord. I've had a fairly stiff dose of painkiller, so I'm afraid I'm starting to drift. Please fetch Master Stevanus."
"I'll call him, Sire," Cathan said.
Rhun left as Stevanus came in with Fulk, but Polidorus was not allowed to enter. Rhys Michael could hear voices raised in anger receding down the corridor as Stevanus came over to him.
"No cautery and no bleeding," Rhys Michael told him, extending his dripping hand. "Just dry it and dress it and wrap it up again. I want to be out of here early in the morning."
He had drifted into sleep by the time Stevanus finished wrapping up his hand, as certain as he could be that Cathan and Fulk would ensure that his wishes were respected, and slept deep and dreamlessly for what remained of the night. He would have been heartened to know that the Healer Queron once more was on the move, riding to rendezvous with him, bringing hope of relief from his pain; but he did not know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.
—II Timothy 3:4
The news of the king's injury and the outcome in Eastmarch reached Rhemuth in the early morning hours as Rhys Michael slept uneasily at Saint Cassian's. Though troops were already on the way to the capital from _Arx Fidei_ and Carthane, the former expected to arrive by midmorning, the great lords resident in the capital breathed a collective sigh of relief as they gathered in the council chamber by torch and candlelight to hear one of Hubert's scribes read out Rhun's account of the resolution at Culliecairn. That the king had survived, apparently by the grace of Sudrey of Eastmarch, was received as almost miraculous, especially when they learned that Sudrey had stood against not only Prince Miklos, but almost certainly the disguised Marek of Festil.
"What do you suppose they were trying to accomplish?" Father Secorim asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, for like the rest of them, he had been summoned from his bed when the messenger arrived—a knight called Henry of Rutherford.
Hubert rolled his eyes heavenward, trusting the candlelit darkness to cloak his impatience; Secorim had much to learn before he could hope to be Paulin's match.
"If they could have done it, I'm sure they would have slain the king then and there," he replied. "However, I very much doubt that was their expectation. What they apparently intended in the short term was the slaying of Sudrey of Eastmarch, née Rhorau, whom they considered to have betrayed her House and her race by marrying Eastmarch. In truth, _I_ would have said that _Eastmarch_ betrayed his lineage and his race by marrying Deryni." He sighed. "But we were hardly in a position to pursue the point, when we only learned of it fifteen years after the fact. At least the bitch is dead now."
Tammaron raised an eyebrow at that, but Richard only smiled, cunning as his father had been, and even more pitiless.
"So Miklos is dead, and Marek has gone slinking home to lick his wounds and answer to Miklos' brother," Richard said. His smile became wolfish. "That means the king will be coming home after all."
"Until the queen is safely delivered," Tammaron said archly, "you'd best hope the king does come home. And best not to count on _that_ until we see him riding through the gates. Personally, I shall not even begin to rest easily until we are certain that Marek has, indeed, gone home, and that Culliecairn is well and truly in the hands of Eastmarch again."
Richard yawned and stood, affecting the uttermost bored indifference. "Gentlemen, you may continue this discussion until dawn, if you wish, but I'm going back to bed for what few hours remain of the night. Until the king does return, I still have a city to protect and troops arriving in the morning."
As Richard left and the others began to disperse, Hubert took Rhun's letter and read over it again for himself, weighing each turn of phrase, for Rhun was not given to choosing his words lightly. The apparent treachery of Miklos of Torenth, while amply repaid, underlined the complexity of the deception in which Dimitri must have been involved and made Hubert worry about how much farther the tendrils of deceit might extend.
That Marek himself had managed to gain access to the king was particularly disturbing, though it was Rhun's opinion that the bulk of his and Miklos' effort seemed to have been focused on eliminating the Lady Sudrey. But given the past history of the Haldanes, Hubert had to wonder whether it had been only Sudrey's resistance that had prevented Marek from launching an attack to utterly crush his Haldane rival. It did not occur to him to worry about the injury Rhun had reported to the king's hand.
Marek himself was about to face the wrath of his brother-in-law, the King of Torenth, in whose torchlit audience chamber he and his two companions nervously waited; he had already weathered his wife's tearful anger in Tolan. Cosim had warned him to send a written message first, knowing King Arion's temper, and Valentin had been reluctant to go at all, but Marek had insisted he must bring the news in person. After they arrived at the Royal Portal in Beldour, the gist of their mission evident by their stark attire and the absence of Miklos, a stony-faced chamberlain had whisked them to the most austere of Arion's private reception rooms, there to languish without refreshment or even seating as the taut minutes gradually stretched nearly to an hour.
The door opened at last. Unattended, looking recently roused from sleep, King Arion swept into the room in a dark shimmer of black silk robe, his feet unshod, the long hair loose around his shoulders, fairer than Miklos' had been. Cosim, who had long been King Arion's vassal, took one look at the rage seething in his sovereign's eyes and sank to his knees, bowing his forehead to the floor and not daring to rise from that position. Old Valentin gave the young king a precise and respectful military salute but kept his gaze averted, staying well behind Marek. Marek himself, well aware of his potential danger, ventured close enough to kneel humbly at the king's feet and reached for the hem of his robe to kiss it.
"How dare you show your face here?" Arion whispered, yanking the silk from Marek's grasp and moving back a pace, the nimbus of his power crackling around his head, his eyes almost colorless in the torchlight. "Did I not warn you that the time was not yet right to pursue this mad cause of yours?"
"Sire, it was not entirely Prince Marek's fault," old Valentin began.
" _Silence!_ " Arion commanded. " _I_ will decide what is and is not Marek's fault!"
In the stunned hush that followed, Marek cautiously dared to lift his eyes about to the level of Arion's belt, though he stayed on his knees, his hands crossed tight under his chin in an attitude of deference. The king was only five years older than Marek, but he had the presence of a man of far more years—and had far more mastery of his power than Marek expected he would ever wield. Miklos had been powerful, but casual in his use of his magic; Arion was all focus and steely will. Though Arion terrified Marek when he was in such a mood, the younger man knew he had but one hope of winning back even a chance at the other's goodwill or even tolerance.
"Sire, I throw myself on your mercy," he whispered, cautiously lifting his gaze to the king's. "If the negligence is entirely mine, I will accept whatever discipline you choose to impose, whatever penalty—even my death, if you deem it fitting. I loved Miklos as the brother I never had and never shall have again. We encouraged one another in the dream we pursued, but our miscalculation was mutual. Though we sought to test the Haldane for the future, our true objective was to put an end to the traitor Sudrey of Rhorau. Neither she nor the Haldane responded as we expected. She—"
"Do you dare to tell me that _Sudrey_ bested my brother?" the king demanded. "That cannot be."
"I _know_ that," Marek said miserably. "Yet her power played a part. She seemed to lend power, or knowledge, or focus, or _something_ to whatever the Haldane has. Read the truth of what I say, Arion! I don't _know_ how it happened! You know I cannot lie to you!"
Arion's eyes seemed to glow like pools of quicksilver, impaling Marek's will, the tall, lean form towering above him like an avenging angel. Not bothering with mere words, the king flicked a silent command at Cosim, who had fearfully lifted his head to observe the exchange between the two. Quickly the Healer moved to do the king's bidding, coming to kneel behind Marek and brace him for the king's touch, ready to assist when Arion took up Marek's offer.
"I give you fair warning, Marek. If you resist at all, I am apt to cause permanent damage," Arion said, the strong fingers sliding into Marek's dark hair as the thumbs pressed to his temples. "This angry, I cannot promise to go softly."
Numbly resigned to accept what he had invited, whatever might be the cost, Marek closed his eyes and eased back on his hunkers, leaning into Cosim's enfolding, letting his hands fall loosely to his sides in token of utter submission. As he yielded up his shields, he felt the deft soothing of the Healer's touch first, relaxing his body and taking his consciousness gently enough down the first few levels into passive readiness. But then Arion's cold probe was knifing into his mind and soul with surgical precision, laying bare every particle of memory that had to do with Miklos over the last two weeks, every perception and intuition about Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, about Sudrey of Eastmarch, née Rhorau, who had betrayed her kind and helped bring about Miklos' death—and all the dark memory and anguish of Miklos' passing and its aftermath.
As Arion thrust ever deeper, touching now on Dimitri and his mysterious demise, Marek's growing discomfort began verging into real pain; but having given over control to Cosim, he could only let the Healer take him through and beyond the pain to unconsciousness rather than the oblivion of mind-ripping, for Arion would not relent until satisfied that his subject had yielded everything of consequence.
When next Marek became aware of anything besides a dull throbbing behind his eyes, he was lying in Valentin's arms and struggling to breathe. Cosim was kneeling beside them, one hand still touching Marek but himself still reverberating to the memory of the Death-Reading the two of them had done on Miklos, also given over for the angry examination of Miklos' bereaved brother. Marek heard Arion before he saw him—a stifled sobbing that he soon tracked to the dim recess of a nearby window embrasure, where a darker shadow hunched amid the flickering shadow play from the torches in the room.
"Arion?" he whispered, struggling to sit up despite the warning murmur from Valentin.
The sudden movement caused a lancing pain behind his eyes, which abated not at all as the king turned to glare at him, the swollen eyes still angry.
_Say nothing_ , Cosim warned, stirring enough to try to wrap his healing around the pain in Marek's head. _He knows it was not entirely your fault, but that does not cancel out the loss_.
"We shall not discuss this further at this time," Arion said quietly, without any inflection whatsoever. The temperate tone was far more frightening than any outburst of further anger might have been. "Go back to my sister's capital in Torenth. Give her what comfort you may. Bring my brother's body back here for burial, but do _not_ come by Portal. By land, with a fitting escort, the journey should take at least a week. Perhaps by then I shall be able to speak to you civilly."
With that he was gone, out the door in a swirl of black silk and blacker mood. Not for several seconds did Marek dare to stir, only then turning his gaze uncertainly to the men the king had left him.
"Cosim, will he ever forgive me?" he asked.
The Healer bowed his silver head.
"Do not count on his support for a very long time, my friend," he said softly. "I have never seen him so angry. Just now, he is angry with you. When his anger turns to Miklos and the Haldane as well, perhaps he will be able to at least accept what has happened. I think it now clear that the Haldane is something we had not anticipated, even if he did not directly kill Miklos."
"One day I will take him, Cosim," Marek said. "But even though I best him with magic, I will need troops to secure what I have won. And I can only get them through Arion's good graces."
"In time, you may regain Arion's favor," the Healer replied. "But for now, be thankful that he has spared your life and sanity. Are you able to stand?"
"I think so," Marek said, letting Valentin help him shakily to his feet.
"Then let us obey the king's command, and go back to the Princess Charis."
"Aye," Marek whispered, passing a trembling hand across his eyes. "And pray a curse upon the man who calls himself King of Gwynedd."
The bells of Prime startled the king awake as they had on his previous visit to Saint Cassian's, and he dragged himself from bed to ready for the day's journey, not looking forward to the jarring of the ride, but eager to be quit of the place. His hand seemed marginally less swollen, perhaps because of its hot soak the night before, but all his body still ached. He could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders and the warmth of fever in his brow.
He skipped Mass that morning, for he could not bear the thought of having a _Custodes_ priest minister to him, after the simple sanctity of Father Derfel. Deliberately ignoring Stevanus' advice, for the battle surgeon was a lay member of the _Custodes Fidei_ , he took his morning dose of painkiller before going into the refectory to break his fast. It made him slightly nauseated on an empty stomach, as Stevanus had warned; but again, eating seemed entirely too much effort, and he only managed to get down some ale and a little bread before pushing away from the table and heading out to the yard, where Rhun and Manfred sullenly awaited orders. He gathered Rhun had shared the previous night's revelation about the codicil with the older man, for Manfred gave him a hard, cold look before mounting up. Father Lior's sour countenance suggested that he knew, too; and Brother Polidorus now had joined the other _Custodes_ men riding at the Inquisitor-General's side.
The second day's travel was much like the first, except that Rhys Michael felt worse as the day wore on. As they forged on across the rest of the Iomaire plain, he tried to make himself eat a little whenever they stopped to rest—or at least drink some wine to fortify himself, for he knew he must keep up his strength—but he could feel his fever mounting without the tacil to control it. Rhun and Manfred were never far from his side, and the _Custodes_ bodyguards who rode before and behind him seemed unusually attentive. Gallard de Breffni was prominent among them. When they camped for the night, Cathan reported that there seemed to be more guards around the royal tent than usual, no doubt to prevent the export of any more unauthorized codicils.
He ate sparingly in his tent with Cathan and Fulk, for he could not stomach the prospect of his enemies' cold-eyed speculation if he dined in the command tent. After supper, despite his exhaustion, he had Cathan take down a letter to Michaela, for there had been no opportunity to write to her the night before. Writing was less than satisfactory, for other eyes would read his words before they reached the queen, but he knew that having the letters would bring her some comfort. Before they were finished, Stevanus came to dress his hand, accompanied by Brother Polidorus, Father Lior, and even Rhun and Manfred, but no one said much, Stevanus only commenting that his fever seemed to have worsened since morning. Rhys Michael decided it was pointless to remind them that the drug Polidorus had taken away from him might have prevented that.
When they had gone out, he lay back on his camp bed and brooded on developments as Cathan finished the letter by lantern-light, and Fulk spread his pallet before the tent entrance, preparing for sleep. Stevanus had left the usual dose of painkiller, but Rhys Michael had not yet touched it.
Outside, the bustle of the camp gradually settled down to the usual night sounds, with Fulk's gentle snoring soon providing a reassuring background drone. By the time Cathan had brought ink and quill for the king to sign Mika's letter, Rhys Michael had conceived a further measure he might take, to the comfort of his family, for he was coming to worry that either his weakening condition or the growing enmity of Rhun and Manfred might conspire to prevent him from ever reaching home.
"Before you take that to Rhun for dispatch, I need you to fetch me the Haldane brooch from my cloak," he murmured to Cathan, as he scrawled his awkward signature. "And when you come back, please don't disturb me until I indicate that it's all right. I'll tell you then, what this is all about."
"Very well."
When Cathan had gone, Rhys Michael lay back with the Haldane brooch cupped under his good hand, resting on his chest, his thumb lightly caressing the sleek gold of the clasp as he set the Haldane lion in his inner sight like a battle banner. He gathered his intent as he drove himself deep into trance then, shutting out the pain, shutting out the fever coursing through his body, coiling his design around the core of his Haldane potential, knowing exactly what must be done. He could not and would not impose the full weight of the Haldane legacy on his son at so young an age, but he knew beyond questioning that the potential must be set, both in Owain and in the second son Rhysel claimed Michaela carried. And it might be that Michaela herself would have to do it, if he could not.
Using the brooch as a focus for this new purpose, as he and Michaela had long used it as a focus for their aspirations to free his crown, he set the requisite spells and bound them with his power, also setting instructions for Michaela on a more superficial level. It took a great deal of energy.
He was sweating and trembling with chills by the time he had finished. To seal the intent and bind it to his will, he turned the brooch over and braced it against his chest, the clasp now pointed upward, gleaming in the lantern-light. Even his good hand was shaking, and he had to steady the body of the brooch against his bandaged hand so that he could rest the other atop the clasp.
For strongest binding, he would have preferred to thrust it through his palm, as he had at his empowering; but he knew he did not have the strength, and also dared not risk debilitating injury to his one good hand, with no Healer to attend to it. Considering, he lightly tried the point against the join of thumb and forefinger, then shifted it to the web of skin and muscle and sinew between his middle and ring fingers and closed his eyes—and shoved hard.
The pain was sharp but brief, and as nothing beside the pulsing throb of his other hand. He drew a deep breath, and another, to disengage from the spell. When he opened his eyes, Cathan was sitting quietly on the edge of the bed beside him, eyes wide. The king managed a shaky smile as he glanced down at the sliver of gold protruding from between his fingers.
"You can pull that out now, if you will," he whispered, wincing as he turned his hand slightly to accommodate Cathan. "It's done. Just make certain that Michaela gets the brooch, if anything happens to me. And the Eye of Rom."
Cathan had picked up the hand and was poised to pull out the clasp, but he faltered at the king's words, blue eyes flicking first to the great ruby in the king's right earlobe, then to the grey Haldane eyes.
"Do you know something I don't?"
Rhys Michael swallowed audibly and glanced at the brooch, jutting his chin at it for Cathan to proceed, breathing a little sigh of relief as the clasp slid free.
"Thank you," he whispered. "No, I don't have any particular prescience of disaster; I'm just taking precautions. I'm mostly worried about the hand." He swallowed again as Cathan laid the brooch aside and then inspected the two small puncture wounds. There was very little blood, and Cathan squeezed the hand to make them bleed.
"You'd better let me clean that for you," he murmured, going to dampen a clean towel in the pitcher left from Stevanus' earlier ministrations.
When he had done that, also wiping the damp towel over the king's perspiring forehead and neck, he knelt down and took the newly wounded hand again, pressing it to his forehead, tears in his eyes.
"You don't think you're going to make it, do you, Rhysem?" he whispered. "Dear God, what's to become of us?"
"I don't know," Rhys Michael murmured. "Humour me, though, and put the brooch in your saddlebag right now. I hope it's my fever that's making me fearful, but I want to be sure you have it, if anything does happen."
When Cathan had obeyed, he came back to the king, who nodded his thanks and managed a faint smile.
"Thank you. Now, there's one more thing I want to do tonight. If I shouldn't make it through this, I want Michaela to know that my last thoughts were and are of her and our sons. I don't want to write it, because I can't be sure she'd get it, but I _can_ set the message in you, to deliver if—if that becomes appropriate. Will you let me do that?"
"Of course. What do you want me to do?"
"First give me the painkiller Stevanus left, so I can drift off to sleep when I'm done, then sit here beside the bed so that I can rest my hand on your head. You won't even remember unless it becomes necessary. I'm taking precautions, because it's wise to have contingency plans, but it isn't my intention to die."
Other contingency plans were also being set into place, though the king did not know it. In the very campsite where he shortly slipped into drugged, exhausted sleep, Ansel, Jesse, Tieg, and a much depleted band of quondam "borderers" gathered by turns in Ansel's tent, there to compare what they had learned since joining the royal party late in the afternoon.
What little information could be had suggested that the king's fever was giving cause for alarm. Further, he had quarreled with his commanders, and the _Custodes_ clergy were even more out of favor than previously. No one seemed to know specific causes, but some put it down to differences of opinion over the king's medical treatment. A _Custodes_ battle surgeon called Master Stevanus was still the king's principal physician, but another man, the infirmarian from Saint Cassian's, had been added to the king's household when they left the _Custodes_ establishment that morning. Brother Polidorus seemed an officious individual, and even other _Custodes_ seemed not to have much complimentary to say about him. The medical implications troubled Tieg, in particular, and made him glad to know that Dom Queron was on his way at all speed to try to intervene.
That same Queron even then was emerging from an underground passage in a village at the foot of Caerrorie Castle, some miles eastward, disguised as a common monk, his Gabrilite braid once again sacrificed in the interests of less distinctive tonsuring. Skirting past the village church, he slipped silently into a neatly kept barn where he saddled a quiet brown mare and led her outside, leaving behind a gold coin and a slip of parchment sealed with the arms of old Culdi. Its finder would take the latter to the village priest in the morning, who would read, _A friend of Father Joram had need of this horse and will return it if at all possible_.
Queron pushed the mare hard, all through the night. Approaching dawn found him far along the road to Valoret and striking off northward and overland toward the King's Road, to gain a few more hours' progress before daylight forced him into hiding. His brown robes marked him as a brother of the Order of Saint Jarlath, whose House lay in the direction he was riding, but his blooded steed was no monk's mount.
Not that both he and the mare would not benefit from a few hours' rest, but he resented the delay, when every hour might make the difference for the king's survival. At least they were headed toward one another. According to Ansel, whose report had been relayed via Camlin before he left sanctuary, Queron could expect the king's party to reach as far south as Ebor or even Sheele by the end of this third day out of Lochalyn; but Queron still had many miles to cover.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
And as troops of robbers wait for a man, so the company of priests murder in the way by consent.
—Hosea 6:9
Rhys Michael's condition had not improved by morning, but at least it seemed no worse. Though still feverish, he insisted upon pushing on. He still had little appetite and had to force himself to eat what little he did.
Despite increasing doses of his pain medication, his hand throbbed almost unbearably, and he continued to shiver and burn by turns as the morning wore on. Just past midday, not long after the column had passed a tiny convent perched jewel-like on a distant hill, his condition took a dramatic turn for the worse.
He had been riding along in a sort of stupor for several hours, head bowed over his injured hand and his hood pulled up to shield him from the sun, when a bout of shivering shifted into something very like a mild convulsion. Already hunched down in cloak and hood, his good hand clinging to the pommel of his saddle, he managed to weather the first attack without anyone noticing. But an hour later it happened again, more violently, and he had to pull up, teeth tightly clenched as the spasms bowed his spine and threw his head back, nearly wrenching him out of the saddle.
"Rhysem, what's wrong!" Cathan cried, pulling up beside him and catching at his reins as Fulk set a steadying hand on his good shoulder.
The spasms eased but little as Stevanus crowded close alongside to take Fulk's place, reaching out to clasp his wrist, and Rhun and Manfred halted the column, trotting back to find out what was happening.
"Jesus, he's burning up!" Stevanus muttered.
"What's wrong with him?" Rhun demanded. "Sire, can you speak?"
Rhys Michael could hear them, but he could not seem to get any words out. The spasms were easing, but his vision was blurred, and his ears were ringing, and it took all his strength of will to keep from falling off.
"We've got to get him to shelter and knock down this fever," Stevanus said, glancing around urgently. "What's in the vicinity?"
"We're still about an hour's ride from Ebor," Manfred said, consulting a sergeant at his stirrup. "Can he stay on a horse that long?"
"I doubt it," Stevanus said. "Wasn't there a convent a mile or two back?" Releasing the king's wrist, he pulled his medical satchel over his shoulder and started rummaging in it. "Cathan, get up behind him and make sure he doesn't fall off, or we may not get him back up. Fulk or somebody—fetch me something liquid in a cup—water, wine—it doesn't matter. Just something to dissolve a sedative. No, that's not it," he muttered, discarding several small parchment packets.
"C-cold," Rhys Michael managed to whisper through clenched teeth, eyes tightly closed, using almost all his strength to get the word out. "B-burning up." But Cathan was scrambling to a seat behind him, bracing him with his arms around him, and no one heard.
While Stevanus continued to search his satchel, hampered by the restless shuffling of his mount, Fulk had swung down and dashed back along the column. Very shortly he returned with a small horn cup.
"I've got wine!" he shouted, as he made his way back toward Stevanus.
Two _Custodes_ knights meanwhile had dismounted and come to stand on either side of the king's horse, holding his legs steady in the stirrups and keeping the animal quiet, casting alarmed glances at Rhun and Manfred as the king started shaking again. Father Lior and Father Magan were urging their horses forward from farther back to see what was wrong, followed by Brother Polidorus. As Fulk presented his cup, Stevanus passed down two of the parchment packets.
"Dump those in the wine and swirl it round," he ordered, returning his attention to the king as he set a steadying hand on the royal shoulder. "Sire, I want you to drink this sedative. It will put you to sleep, but it will help control the spasms. Cathan, help him!"
As Fulk held the cup up, Rhys Michael managed to take it, assisted by Cathan, but a new spasm closed his hand around the cup with such force that it shattered, spattering him with wine as his head jerked back. They got him onto the ground before he could fall, amid a milling confusion of grasping hands and anxious voices shouting conflicting orders, and the next thing he knew was a sharp jab of pain in the side of his neck, a second, and then waves of nausea and psychic disruption joining with the spasms and the unrelenting throb of his injured hand.
"Goddammit, Lior, I didn't want to give him _merasha_ ," he dimly heard Stevanus muttering, as the wave of darkness came welling up. "I don't know how it will react with what's already in him!"
Just before he passed out, he found himself wondering whether they would figure out that he was reacting like a Deryni. But the spasms already racking his body prevented that, and the double dose of _merasha_ added to his earlier medication took him quickly beyond being able to care.
How long he remained unconscious he did not know; only that the room in which he briefly surfaced was dim and cool and presided over by several dark-clad women of indeterminate age, with gentle hands and kindly faces. Two of them were sponging his naked body with cool water while a third, younger one applied cold compresses to his burning forehead. At chest and hips, wide bands of cloth bound him to the bed. Dimly he realized that his arms and legs were likewise restrained. Every muscle and joint in his entire body seemed to ache.
He managed a painful croak, yearning for something cool to drink, something to still the pounding pain behind his eyes.
"So, you've come back among the living," a cheery female voice said, owned by a fourth black-clad figure who joined the others at this sign of life and bent to feel his forehead under the compress. "Don't try to move. Your physicians had you restrained because of the convulsions. Now that you're conscious, though, we must do something more about that fever besides just sponging you down. Sister Regina, release that chest band, please, so we can raise him up. We don't want him to choke on this."
Another woman came and put a wooden cup in the speaker's hand. The women sponging him set aside their basins and drew a sheet up to his waist, then released the band that bound his chest. Through the dull lethargy and pounding in his head, a muzzy part of Rhys Michael's brain dimly registered that his ministering angels must be religious of some sort. The disjointedness of this conclusion reminded him that at least part of the cause for his wretchedness was _merasha_ , never mind the fever and the hand.
"Where's Cathan?" he managed to whisper, letting out an inadvertent groan as one of the sisters raised him up with a gentle arm behind his shoulders. "Cathan?"
"That's one of your men, isn't it, Sire?" the cup-bearer murmured. "Drink this first, and I'll call him."
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's a tea we brew from white willow bark, very good for fever. Believe me, it will help."
"My head hurts," he protested weakly, as the cup pressed to his lips.
"That's from the fever. Just drink this down. It will help that, too."
He had little choice but to obey, though he could only get it down in tiny sips, almost a trickle past dry lips. The effort exhausted him enough to slide him back into darkness.
His head was a little clearer when he woke again, but his body still ached, as did his hand. He could feel the chest restraint back in place with the others, and someone was prodding none too gently at his abdomen.
A tentative try at reading the prodder's identity with his powers produced a stabbing pain behind his eyes and a new wave of nausea and vertigo, confirming that _merasha_ aftereffects continued to disrupt his abilities. A poke in the bladder made him gasp and open his eyes, to discover that his tormentor was a sour-faced Brother Polidorus. Stevanus stood beside him, looking underslept and far too anxious.
"Did that hurt?" the battle surgeon asked, almost hopefully, as Polidorus continued to poke and prod.
Rhys Michael had to swallow before he could summon the energy to shake his head. "Bladder's full."
When the appropriate receptacle had been brought, utilized, and taken away, Stevanus took Polidorus' place, still looking grim as he laid his hand across his patient's forehead. Cathan and Fulk had come into the room, accompanied by Manfred and Rhun. The latter two looked angry. The room was dim, as before, but now Rhys Michael sensed light beyond the heavy curtains to his right. He wondered what day it was.
"How do you feel?" Stevanus asked, very quietly.
"Am I supposed to feel better?" the king replied.
Stevanus quirked him a faint smile as he took his hand away.
"One keeps hoping. Your fever is a bit diminished, but you've had convulsions off and on, all through the night and morning. The hand is draining, but that's to be expected."
Rhys Michael flexed at his bonds and closed his eyes briefly. "Do I have to be restrained?"
"When you go into convulsions, you're pretty spectacular. You could break bones. I'm afraid the restraints have to stay."
"How long?"
"Until the convulsions ease up."
"No, how long until _that_ happens? Stevanus, could I die from this?" he asked, trying to catch the battle surgeon's gaze.
Stevanus glanced away. "I—don't think you're going to die from this, Sire," he whispered. "But here, I've got some more of the sisters' willow-bark tea for you. And a bit of sedative. It seems to help the spasms a bit. Cathan, just lift his head a little."
Whether the sedative would have helped was a moot point, because the draught had not been in his stomach long enough to take effect before his body was again racked by wave upon wave of violent, cramping convulsions that arched his spine and choked off his breath and eventually left him unconscious. When he came around, he knew not how much later, angry voices were being raised in argument all around his bed, and he could feel his body tensing for another set of convulsions even as he opened his eyes to look around him.
"Medically, that's precisely what is called for!" Brother Polidorus was saying, as Lior laid a restraining hand on an angry Stevanus' shoulder. "I wanted it done days ago and look what's happened."
Manfred was standing in the background, looking determined, and Sir Rondel, his aide, had the furiously struggling Rhun in a hammerlock, two _Custodes_ knights pulling his arms outstretched while Father Magan bared one burly forearm and angled for a clean jab with a Deryni pricker. Cathan was nearby, but Gallard de Breffni had _him_ in custody, with a dagger held to his throat rather than a Deryni pricker. Fulk was over by the door flanked by two more _Custodes_ knights, not actively in custody but looking defeated and sick at heart.
"But he's too weak already!" Stevanus was protesting. "If you bleed him, he may not even survive _that_ , much less the longer-term effects."
Through the red haze that was creeping over the king's vision as convulsions claimed him again, wrenching him once more toward oblivion, the sense of Stevanus' words sent cold dread flooding through his mind. They meant to bleed him after all! He had forbidden Stevanus or Rhun to allow it, but Lior and Polidorus apparently had prevailed against even Rhun's orders. By an exhausting act of will, for the residual effects of the _merasha_ continued to cloud his access to his powers, Rhys Michael managed not to succumb to this latest set of convulsions, but as they receded and he could again turn his perceptions outward, he was not certain he would not have been happier not to know.
For they were not arguing over him anymore. Cathan was kneeling at the right side of the bed, one hand gently stroking his forehead, weeping bitterly into his other hand. And on the left, as a sudden, burning pain in his arm made him flinch and turn his head in dismay, he saw Polidorus lifting a bloody lancet.
"No!" he cried weakly, instinctively trying to jerk away, even as Polidorus released the ligature that had kept his blood from flowing. "Noooooo!" he groaned, as the hot blood began to stream around his arm and collect in a basin set beneath his elbow.
But a _Custodes_ knight had one hand set firmly against his shoulder and the other on his upper arm, and Father Magan had that forearm in an unrelenting grip, to ensure that their unwilling patient did not twist against the padded wrist restraint that held the arm outstretched. Another _Custodes_ knight had moved in beside Cathan at the king's first sign of movement and restrained his right arm and shoulder. Stevanus was nowhere to be seen.
The horror and the helplessness of it all swept through him in less than a blink of an eye, along with the anger and betrayal and the utter futility of continuing to resist. Even so, he did try, wrenching at his bonds with a moan of outrage but then forced to succumb as Gallard de Breffni pressed across his body to pin him helpless, crushing the breath from his lungs, and his other captors tightened their holds on his twitching limbs. The exertion made the blood flow even faster, a still-rational part of him dimly realized, briefly spilling over the edge of the bowl until Polidorus could steady it. As the king gave up his struggling, Gallard eased off on crushing his chest, and the _Custodes_ men pinning his shoulders let up slightly.
"Rhysem, forgive me, I couldn't stop them," Cathan whispered, urgently turning his kinsman's face from what was being done. "They won't kill me, for Mika's sake, but they would have made me leave you, if I hadn't stopped fighting them. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering this alone."
"But, why?" Rhys Michael managed to croak, his voice quavering. "Is this how they're going to kill me?"
"Now, Sire, you mustn't get such ideas in your head," Polidorus purred, calmly milking at his upper arm to keep the blood flowing, the bloody lancet still in his hand. "You're a very stubborn patient. You don't know what's best for you. Bleeding will let out the evil humours that are causing your illness. Believe me, we know what we're doing."
Unable to argue such illogic, Rhys Michael cast his gaze helplessly around the room and saw that Rhun had subsided onto a stool over nearer the door, eyes closed, his head leaned back against the wall. Manfred was standing beside him, one hand on his shoulder, glancing down at him occasionally. Lior was on his other side. And Rhys Michael's blood continued to run around his elbow and into the basin, more and more of it, just as Javan had described when the _Custodes_ bled him, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Rhun, listen to me," Rhys Michael called, with as much strength as he could muster. "Rhun, if they kill me, I've told you what will happen. Don't let them do this—for your own sake, if not for mine."
Manfred's hand tightened on Rhun's shoulder, and he quirked an uneasy smile at the king. "I'm not certain he can hear you, Sire. In any case, I am not as gullible as Lord Rhun. I don't believe you."
"Shall I have Cathan show you the document?" the king asked.
"Anyone can draw up any document in their fantasies," Manfred replied. "I think you're bluffing."
"And if I'm not?"
Manfred shrugged. "Sire, it is regrettable that sometimes, despite the best of medical care, even the most illustrious patients do not survive illnesses as serious as yours. There will be ample witness that all was done that could be done and that your Highness refused sound medical advice on more than one occasion, until it was too late to save you."
"But, it's murder," Rhys Michael murmured, despair curling in his gut like a slithering snake. "What's more, it's sacrilege. But then, you've killed a king before, haven't you? At least Javan was able to die in the field, with his sword in his hand!"
Smiling a terrible little smile, Manfred walked over to the bed and glanced dispassionately at the basin collecting the king's blood, now nearly filled.
"I am not a vindictive man, Sire. I give you my faithful promise that when the time comes, you may die with your sword in your hand, if you wish—with the very sword that Javan held in _his_ hand, in _his_ last moments. But it will not be today."
At his nod, Brother Polidorus set aside his lancet and pressed a pad of clean towel to the wound in the king's arm, lifting it clear so that Father Magan could remove the bowl of royal blood. When they had washed the arm clean, Polidorus applied a new dressing and bound it up, then directed Cathan to press his fingers against the dressing to be sure the wound was stanched, for they did not loose the restraints.
"Thank you, Brother Polidorus," Manfred murmured. "Your services may be required again during the night, if our patient shows no sign of improvement, but for now, you may go. Sire, I'll send Master Stevanus and Lord Fulk back to you after Father Lior has had a word with you."
Polidorus made Manfred a slight bow and retreated with him, the _Custodes_ knights following with the groggy Rhun stumbling between them. When they had gone, Lior came over to the bed to sniff disdainfully at the bowl of blood still set on the table beside it. Father Magan was quietly gathering up the bloodied towels and instruments, collecting them on a wooden tray.
"A pity your Deryni friends could not be here, Sire," Lior said softly. "No doubt they would find royal blood highly desirable for their rites of abomination. As it is, the custom in religious houses is to fertilize the gardens with the products of bloodletting. Perhaps in a year or two, the good sisters will be able to tell us whether royal blood is superior to merely mortal blood for that purpose."
Increasingly light-headed, either from the loss of blood or the sedative earlier, Rhys Michael could hardly believe what he had just heard. But it was Cathan who challenged the _Custodes_ priest, blue eyes wide with horror and indignation.
"Just what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. "That's a lie, about the Deryni!"
"Oh, had you not heard of their blood rites?" Lior asked. "Of course, you mostly escaped their taint. I remember testing you. But 'tis well known that the Deryni consort with demons, who demand blood of their devotees. My sources inform me that royal blood is considered to be only slightly less efficacious than that of virgins or infants. In some cases, it is more useful. Be thankful that they do not have access to your body, Sire, much less to your soul."
Cathan had blanched, unable to reply, and Rhys Michael could only turn his face away in loathing. His breathing had become more labored, and his thinking was not as clear as it had been.
"Speaking of which," Lior went on, "I shall have a priest come to you in a little while. I am sure you will wish to make confession and receive Extreme Unction, being in mortal peril. I would offer my services, but somehow I doubt you would find me acceptable. Or Father Magan, I expect." Rhys Michael could only shake his head numbly. "Well, I shall find someone. Good evening, Sire."
When he and Magan had gone out, taking the tray and the blood with them, Stevanus was allowed to return, Fulk also coming to stand uneasily by the king's bed.
"I am truly sorry, Sire," the battle surgeon murmured, looking distraught. "I tried to stop them. Sir Fulk tried as well, but we could only insist so far."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes, tensing for a new set of convulsions he could feel coming on.
"I know," he whispered. "You're none of you to blame. Cathan—"
Cathan's hand closed around his good one, and he hung on for his life as the spasms racked him again and Stevanus and Fulk tried to still his thrashing. Thereafter he slipped into troubled sleep, given respite at last by his sedation, his three guardians keeping watch by turns, as day slipped into evening and to night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
—II Timothy 4:6
Queron caught up with the Gwynedd army late in the morning of the next day. He had expected to find them much farther south, and caught intimations of a royal pause only a little after dawn, when he paused at a farmer's steading to beg food and drink.
"Aye, Father, they're camped round about the convent up the road," the goodwife told him, as she poured him fresh milk from a crockery jar. "They say the king fell ill, an' they took him there for the good sisters to care for him."
Queron soon found opportunity to probe the woman more closely, but she had already told all she knew. Begging a slab of cheese and a hunk of bread, he left the brown mare in exchange for the farmer's more suitable grey donkey and set off up the road, wolfing down the food for sustenance and planning how he might gain access to the king.
The cover he had chosen was an excellent start. Not only did his obviously advanced years present no physical threat to whatever laymen might be responsible for the king's safety, but his monastic habit virtually guaranteed the hospitality of just about any religious house. An itinerant cleric could always be prevailed upon to share the latest news of the outside world in exchange for his supper and a bed, while also enabling his hosts to exercise Christian charity. A visiting priest also might be asked to hear the odd confession and perhaps celebrate Mass, if the community did not have its own resident chaplain. Begging a noonday meal was perhaps not as satisfactory an entrée as requesting travelers' fare and lodgings at day's end, but Queron reflected that he could always make the donkey limp temporarily, if no other ruse seemed likely to gain him entrance.
He did not have to resort to such tactics. Though he could see the vast sprawl of the army's encampment across the fields as he approached, and there was much evidence of horsemen riding to and fro on the road as he neared the convent gates, no one gave him a second glance as he guided the little donkey under the entrance arch. Across the cobbled courtyard, several armed men were tending horses outside what he presumed must be the guesthouse, and more horses stood tied beside what appeared to be the entrance to the stable yard. As he drew rein, a smiling young sister in a black wimple and habit came to greet him, setting work-roughened hands on the donkey's bridle as he slid to the ground.
"God's greeting to you, good brother. Welcome to Saint Ostrythe's. How may we serve you?"
"God's greeting to you, Sister. Might I trouble you for a bite to eat and fodder for my four-legged friend? 'Tis a long ride yet to Saint Jarlath's, and I do not know where the evening will find me. My name is Father Donatus."
"And I am Sister Winifred," she said, bobbing him a curtsey. "Of course you may find hospitality in this house, Father. I fear the fare may be less ample than our usual wont, for we guest the king and his party, but you are welcome to share what we have. Come and I'll show you where to put your beast."
Following her into the stable yard, Queron took in as much as he could of the layout of the place, alert for any sign of the king's presence nearby; but he could find no trace.
"Tell me, what brings the king to these parts?" he asked, as she led him past several soldiers into a well-built barn.
The little nun gave a sad shrug, stroking the donkey's neck as she guided it into a spacious box stall strewn with sweet-smelling hay.
"I fear he is very ill, Father. They brought him here yesterday, all but unconscious, and 'tis said that even bleeding has not eased him. Mother Prioress instructed us to pray for him, both last night and this morning."
Stunned, Queron laid a hand on her shoulder, gently taking control as he turned her to face him and then probed deep. Sister Winifred's discretion was what might be expected of a religious, but her knowledge of the king's condition was not confined to a mere glimpse or convent gossip. She was only a very junior member of the community, but she had been one of several sisters to tend the king immediately after his arrival.
From her he read the king's condition at that time and what had been done for him in her presence. The injured hand had not been dealt with, for it was fever and convulsions that had interrupted his journey. Queron would have preferred talicil for the fever and could have prescribed several specific Deryni drugs that might have eased the very alarming spasms, but the tea brewed from white willow bark conveyed some of the same benefits as talicil, and sedation, in general, usually helped to ease convulsions.
Unfortunately, Sister Winifred had no direct knowledge about the bloodletting, though it was understood that the king almost certainly had been bled more than once since his arrival and possibly as many as three or four times. That was alarming enough, but earlier this morning, one of the king's officers had made inquiries concerning the availability of the convent's chaplain—which seemed odd to young Winifred, since the king's immediate party certainly had several priests among their number. One had celebrated Mass for them this morning, for the convent's resident priest was away.
This additional piece of information struck a dread chill in Queron's heart. That a priest was being sought was ill news, indeed, for it bespoke the very real possibility that the king was in danger of death. And how like Rhys Michael to refuse the services of his _Custodes_ priests. Queron recalled being told that the dying Alroy had done precisely the same thing, only finally receiving his last Communion from his brother Javan's hands.
But herein lay a possible way to gain access to the king, not as an itinerant hospitaller but as a disinterested and neutral priest who might be acceptable to a man who knew the failings of his own priests far too well to entrust his soul to them as he approached death. It was not what Queron had hoped to accomplish, and he tried not to let himself expect that he was in time to make a difference as a Healer; but at least if Queron was too late to save the king's life, perhaps he might help ease that life to a more peaceful close, with the solace of a friend beside him, even in the midst of his enemies...
"It grieves me to hear that the king is so ill, Sister," Queron murmured, shaking his head, smoothly releasing her without memory of any passage of time. "Far from home and kin, it must give him comfort to receive the loving care of this House. And for his soul's cure, I should imagine he has the ministrations of many good priests."
She dropped her gaze and folded her hands in the wide sleeves of her habit, biting at her lower lip. "I—am not certain he has yet received the sacraments, Father. Earlier this morning, one of his young officers was inquiring for a priest; alas, ours is away. Later, the senior of the king's priests said Mass for us—a Father Lior—but he seemed preoccupied and almost angry. I—wonder whether he and his brother priests may be out of favor with the king. I can think of no other reason to ask for ours."
Queron raised an eyebrow. "You think he would not see his own priests? But—oh, dear. Sister, I can hardly claim to be the sort of courtly, sophisticated priest to which the king must be accustomed, but do you suppose he still needs one? I would be honored to offer what solace I may, if he would think it no impertinence from a humble country cleric."
Sister Winifred smiled hopefully.
"You're very generous, Father. I can take you to the king's men. It may be that his Highness would be well content to confess himself to a priest who knows him not at all. Perhaps there lies the problem."
"Perhaps," Queron agreed.
Leaving the stable with Sister Winifred, Queron followed her back across the central courtyard and through into the cloister garth, heading for the Chapter House. It appeared the king's officers had appropriated the building for a temporary command headquarters. Several _Custodes_ guards were posted outside the open doorway, some of them looking grim, indeed, but they gave only casual interest to the aged, brown-robed cleric who followed silently at the heels of the pretty Sister Winifred, hands folded piously in the sleeves of his habit and head ducked down in his cowl. Fortunately, Queron had never had a face-to-face meeting with any of the men likely to be inside, though he knew most of them by others' mental recall and description.
"Beg pardon, my lords," Sister Winifred said, peering timidly into the open doorway and bobbing a nervous curtsey as several of the men looked up. "One of the young officers was inquiring earlier this morning about a priest. This is Father Donatus, on his way to Saint Jarlath's. Could he be of any assistance?"
An intense, black-eyed priest in _Custodes_ habit detached himself from a knot of _Custodes_ officers and came over to the doorway—Father Lior, Queron realized.
"What was that name again, Father?" Lior asked.
"Donatus," Queron said, making the obviously grander Lior a deferential bow, eyes averted. "I do beg your pardon, Father, but perhaps Sister was mistaken. I was told a priest was required, but I see several priests among you."
Behind Lior, Manfred gave a snort. Rhun of Horthness stood beside him, sullenly nursing a large goblet.
"Well, Lior, your prayers are answered," Manfred said. "I doubt it will make much difference to _him_ , but I'm sure you priestly types will feel better about all of this if the proprieties are observed."
Biting back whatever retort had come to mind, Lior merely folded his hands behind his back and curtly gestured to Queron with his chin as he headed out the door.
"Come with me, please, Father. Thank you, Sister."
A few minutes later, Lior was leading Queron past a pair of _Custodes_ guards and into a dim, close room tinged with the sweetness of incense and beeswax and the underscent of blood. Two motionless figures in leather and shirtsleeves knelt to either side of a white-covered bed, and a third in the black tunic of a _Custodes_ battle surgeon turned a compress on the forehead of the bed's occupant. Though Queron had never met any of the three, he recognized all of them as they looked up—Cathan, Fulk, and Stevanus—and he sent a quick burst of thought to Cathan, who alone might guess what he was.
_Say nothing. I am sent by Joram_.
"This is Father Donatus," Lior said, gesturing toward Queron. "How is his Highness?"
"Quiet," Stevanus said, setting his compress aside, not meeting Lior's eyes as he got to his feet. "It—cannot be much longer."
Lior's lips tightened, and he shook his head, piously folding his hands at his waist. "These are sad times, indeed, Father. I gave his Highness holy anointing early this morning, when his condition became grave, but he would not speak to me, he would not make last confession, nor would he receive Viaticum. If you can reach him, if you can persuade him to make his peace with God, I would count it a personal favor."
"I am honored to offer that comfort to any soul in need, Father," Queron said quietly, somewhat surprised to find that Lior's regret seemed genuine—though he was also aware that Lior took little personal risk by asking another priest to hear the king's last confession, since any accusations against Lior or the others would be sealed by the confidentiality of that sacrament. "If we may have some privacy, please?"
"Of course."
With a pointed glance at the others, Lior began making shooing motions to urge them out of the room. Cathan rose obediently enough, though clearly on the brink of tears, but he lingered near the foot of the bed as Fulk, Stevanus, and then Lior passed outside.
"Might I stay in the room, please, Father?" he whispered. "Maybe over in the corner? He has been like a brother to me. The queen is my sister."
"Not just now, son," Queron said, setting his hands on Cathan's shoulders to guide him to the door—and in those seconds Reading all he could of what had been done to the king. "Why don't you wait outside with the others? I promise I'll call you before the end."
Cathan choked back a sob but gave a nod as well, for Queron had sent explicit instructions during the brief contact. When he had passed outside, Queron gently closed the door and then came back to gaze down at the king.
Rhys Michael's eyes were closed, and his labored breathing barely stirred the stark white sheet pulled up to midchest. He was no longer restrained. Both arms lay outside the sheeting, the right hand heavily bandaged and splinted and lesser bandages binding both arms at the elbows, evidence of the repeated bleedings. Cathan had witnessed four, though the king probably had not been aware of the last of these. He still had lucid moments, but they were becoming fewer and shorter.
Crossing himself with weary resignation, Queron knelt at the king's left and took the slack hand in one of his, chafing it gently as his other hand came to rest on Rhys Michael's forehead, Reading deep as a Healer Reads and knowing, as only a Healer can know, that all his powers could not reverse what had been set in motion. The physical damage to the hand could still be Healed—and Queron would have been willing to risk personal discovery, if such Healing might save the king's life—but nothing could be done to replace the vast quantities of blood the king had lost, or to quell the fever burning away what little strength remained to him.
The pain Queron blocked, for that, at least, he could do; but nothing more for the body that housed Rhys Michael Haldane's soul. The king stirred slightly at this respite, though his breathing still was labored, and he did not open his eyes.
"Rhysem, I know you can hear me," Queron whispered softly, very near the king's ear. "It's Dom Queron. Joram has sent me. I deeply regret that I cannot Heal you, but is there anything else I can offer you? Don't try to speak aloud; just give me your thoughts. Rest in the Mercy and let me help you find your peace."
The hope that had stirred faintly in Rhys Michael's soul fluttered back and was stilled, yielding once more to resigned acceptance, for he had given up any real hope of surviving this when they bled him the second time. Before the third time, Manfred had even laid the Haldane sword under his hand, in confirmation of their intentions, though he already had been too weak to hold it. Still, this final acceptance of what soon must be his fate enabled him to send his thought to Queron strong and focused.
_Dom Queron... sweet comfort come at last... Please hear my confession, Father. I would not go to God unshriven, but I could not confess to Lior..._
_Dear son_...
Their thoughts merged and blended then, beyond all need for mere words as the king offered up all his fears and failings for the examination of his spiritual physician, humbly acknowledging the Healer's assessments, letting Queron guide him in making his contrition. Withholding nothing, he also revealed to Queron how he had made provision for passing the Haldane potential to his son—not the full empowering, for Owain was only four, but the means for the ground to be prepared and the seeds sown.
And Cathan must be his agent in this and cautioned not to do or say anything after the king's death that might prevent his return to Michaela, for whom he also bore a last, loving farewell from her Rhysem. It was all the king could offer, in the end—one final bequest to the kingdom he had never really ruled. Having discharged this ultimate obligation, he was content to rest, mind intertwined to mind as hand to hand, even as Queron softly pronounced the ritual words of absolution and signed him in blessing.
" _Ego te absolvo, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen._ "
"Amen," Rhys Michael whispered, opening his eyes at last, the light blazing in them, fierce and strong and nearly burned out.
"Rhysem, I have brought you the Blessed Sacrament," Queron murmured, touching a hand to his breast, where the little pyx rested under his habit in its soft leather pouch, suspended from a cord. "Will you receive Viaticum now? It is heavenly bread, the Body of our Lord, to speed you on your way."
Almost too weak to speak, Rhys Michael nodded, tears welling in his eyes as he remembered the passing of his brother Alroy and how Javan had called him to the dying Alroy's side to share Communion together one last time.
"Call Cathan?" he managed to whisper. "And Fulk and Stevanus, if they wish. They have served—as best they could. In another little while, I think I could have won them truly... but no time."
"Perhaps you have won them better than you knew," Queron murmured. "I'll call them."
He did. Cathan slipped past him anxiously, almost as soon as Queron opened the door, Fulk and then Stevanus following gratefully at the priest's beckoning gesture. Lior had been joined by Manfred, Rhun, and several more _Custodes_ clerics, and would have followed the three the king had asked for, but Queron laid a hand on his wrist to stay him, his stern glance also halting the others.
"He wishes only these three, my lords."
"But I should be there," Lior protested, looking quite ashen-faced in his _Custodes_ black, for he knew that Queron must be aware of his duplicity. "I have offended him, and I would seek his forgiveness."
"I think it best if you remain here and pray for him, Father—and for yourself," Queron said, neutral of tone but with the force of compulsion behind his words. "He forgives, but he does not wish your presence."
Queron did not wait to see the effect of his order, only closing the door and returning to Rhys Michael's bed. Cathan and Fulk had gone to the other side, Cathan kneeling nearest the king's head to pull the Haldane sword quietly from underneath the bed and lay its shining length atop its owner's body with the cross-hilt at the breast, gently bringing the king's good hand to rest upon it, sign both of faith and of kingship. Queron bade Stevanus come beside him, on the king's left, pulling the leather pouch from inside the neck of his habit as he knelt.
The little pyx inside the pouch was silver-gilt, plain, but it blazed like a sun in Queron's psychic sight as he opened it and took out a small consecrated Host. Holding it before the king's burning gaze, the Healer-priest spoke the words that proclaimed their faith, speaking them in the common tongue, that none might mistake his meaning:
"Beloved son, behold the Lamb of God, Who taketh away the sins of the world. Receive this food for thy journey: the Bread of Heaven, containing in itself all delight; the Body of Christ, to keep thee in life everlasting."
Rhys Michael's breathless "Amen" barely stirred his lips, and tears were trembling on the closing lashes like jewels as Queron laid the Host on his tongue. Leaving the king to commune with his God, the priest returned his gaze to the vessel of sunlight glowing in his hand and carefully took out another Host, breaking it in quarters and giving one to Cathan, another to Fulk, the third to Stevanus. The fourth he himself reverently consumed after murmuring the accompanying words in Latin:
" _Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam meam in vitam aeternam. Amen._ "
But he had gently caught the minds of all the others as he touched them, and when he had given thanks for his own Communion, he gathered together their several strands of focused meditation to weave another, silent exhortation, this time calling unseen Powers to witness the passage of the one who shortly would enter their realms. Those Powers were the same Rhys Michael had seen come to speed Alroy on his way, who had witnessed Rhys Michael's coming into his heritage, the same whose presence Queron himself had sought so many times, to bless so many purposes—Guardians and Protectors and Teachers.
And now, Conveyers at last of the soul's passage into—Other. Queron's sorrow was tempered with joy as he bade them welcome, lifting up his heart in glad summoning, offering up wordless greeting by names that caught but a hint of their bearers' puissance and beauty.
Raphael of the winds, serene and gentle, ethereal as a dawn mist but powerful as a raging storm, transparent wings trailing beams of golden sunlight.
Michael of the flames—better known to Joram and his warrior kin than to a Healer like Queron, but a steady and faithful protector of those who must live by the sword—or by the fire of their wits.
Gabriel, Queron's own especial patron, glad herald of the Blessed Virgin, powerful but compassionate, quicksilver-subtle, changing as the tides and as deep as the sea.
And finally Uriel, whose specific commission it was to usher souls across the Great Abyss; Uriel, rock-steady, whose earth would claim the earthly bodies of all, in time, but who now waited to receive a soul. The rainbow shiver of unseen wings rustled the very air around Queron as he gave the Four thanks for their coming and brought the king into their presence.
Rhys Michael did not rouse, but his hand contracted slightly on the hilt of the Haldane sword. As he gave a little shudder, his breath rasping in his chest, Queron used his thumb to sign a cross on the king's forehead in blessing, then gently laid his hand over the king's, with the sword beneath, bowing his head in homage both to him and to the Ones who waited.
_Dearest son, be free to go_ , he whispered in the king's mind. _Your body can no longer serve you. You have fought a noble fight against powerful adversaries, and you have won a chance for your sons. Others will take up the fight now. Be at peace, and go when you are ready_.
The king did not go immediately. A little while longer he lingered, inward-focused and scarcely breathing, perhaps gathering his resolve for that final leap into the Unknown. But Queron sensed that moment when Rhys Michael Alister Haldane finally cast loose the last of the ties binding him to earthly life.
The labored breathing faltered once and then ceased. The hand under Queron's went slack. Lifting his gaze to search the too-pale face, at peace now, Queron fancied he saw the king restored, the king Rhys Michael should have been, crimsonmantled and crowned with the great state crown, clear-eyed and brimming with health, his grey gaze fixed steadfastly on something beyond Queron's head as he rose up out of his abandoned body to join another young man who looked very much like him, with the same grey eyes and jet black hair and a crown of running lions on his head, who also pointed where Rhys Michael was looking.
Queron turned his gaze to follow and beheld another figure cloaked and hooded in grey, extending something in both its hands toward the raptly staring Cathan. Neither Fulk nor Stevanus seemed aware, both with their faces buried in their hands. And as the greyling figured turned, lowering the hands _almost_ enough to reveal what he held, Queron caught just a glimpse of the face deep inside the hood—a face he had sought to know for many years.
_Camber!_
He almost spoke the name aloud, but even as his lips parted, that portion of the vision was gone—and all the spirit hosts that had surrounded it, receding at dizzying speed to a single point of brilliant light directly above Rhys Michael's head, that suddenly was not! Queron gasped as it winked away, the spell broken, then let out a slow sigh, for he had not remembered to breathe for many seconds. Cathan was staring at the king's face, blinded by tears, slowly nodding. The others remained unmoving, with heads bowed.
"May Christ—Who has called thee—now receive thee, beloved son," Queron managed to whisper, almost by rote, slowly crossing himself, willing the pounding of his heart to slow. " _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine_ —"
" _Et lux perpetua luceat ei_ ," Cathan murmured, the other two joining in raggedly.
" _Kyrie eleison._ "
" _Christe eleison, kyrie eleison_..."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I have seen the wicked in great power.
—Psalms 37:35
A short while later, kneeling at the back of the convent church, Queron did his best to help Cathan regain some measure of equilibrium before leaving him. The younger man had done with weeping for the moment and now knelt merely trembling beside the brown-robed old priest, though his face remained buried in his hands.
Queron still did not know what Camber had shown to the boy, though he suspected it might have had something to do with Cathan's final commission from the king. There had been no time to ask at the king's bedside. Further prayers beyond the _Kyrie_ seemed superfluous after the holy simplicity of Rhys Michael's passing, and Queron knew he must be away from here as soon as possible.
So after Cathan had tearfully slipped the Haldane sword back under the bed and removed the Eye of Rom, secreting it in his belt pouch for Michaela, Queron had left Fulk and Stevanus to grieve at the king's bedside and silently instructed Cathan to indulge his own grief in as dramatic a fashion as he could, as cover to get the two of them out of the death chamber.
"The king is at peace," Queron informed Lior and the others waiting outside, as he led the sobbing Cathan out of the room. "His passing was very gentle. I shall take this young man outside to compose himself now. Father, perhaps you would lead the appropriate litanies here at the king's bedside."
Lior and the others had surged into the room to see for themselves with hardly a second look at Queron and Cathan, each with his own priorities, now that the king was dead—Lior coldly practical, Polidorus sharp-eyed and intent, Manfred apparently unable to believe they had actually done it, Rhun all too well aware what they had done. Cathan had been reluctant to leave his beloved Rhysem in such hands, but knew with his reason that the king was no longer there to be hurt by them.
"I've given you what guidance I can, as quickly as I can," Queron murmured, shifting back to speech as he prepared to leave Cathan in the chapel. "I have to ask, though, before I go, just what you saw, there at the end. I shan't intrude, but I have to ask."
Cathan lifted his head, not looking at Queron, still a little caught up in what he had witnessed, both sacred and profane.
"It was a reminder of something I have to do for Owain," he whispered. "Rhysem wanted me to see that he gets the Haldane brooch. I know the earring is somehow important—the Eye of Rom—but there's something about the brooch as well." He shook his head. "I can't tell you any more."
"There's no need," Queron said gently, for Rhys Michael had told him of Cathan's mission.
Cathan swallowed, then looked up at Queron searchingly. "Can you see that Mika knows Owain is meant to have it, Father? It isn't a state jewel, so no one may think of it. If—something happens to me, before I can get back to her, they'll still give her Rhysem's things, won't they? They've killed him; surely they wouldn't deny her a few keepsakes." He swallowed hard and looked away, shaking his head. "God, widowed at twenty!"
"Steady, son. I'll see that she knows. But you must do your part to see that you get back. Don't give them any excuse to kill you."
Cathan nodded, sniffling back the last of his tears, and stiffened as Fulk came into the church, looked around, and headed right for them.
"Father, they're looking for you," he whispered, leaning between them. "You'd best go while you can. You know too much about the king's death."
Nodding, Queron murmured, "Thank you," and sent the young man to kneel at the back of the church in the shadow of a clerestory pillar.
"At least we've won that one," he murmured, as he set his hand on Cathan's arm and prepared to leave. "If he survives this, keep track of him and don't underestimate his usefulness."
"What do you mean, 'if he survives this'?"
"Well, being Tammaron's son may save him, but he still knows too much. So does Stevanus. So do you. Be very careful."
"I plan to be," Cathan agreed. "And you?"
Queron gave him a grim smile. "Your Rhysem really did strike the regents what could be a deathblow, son, by issuing that codicil. But it will all be for naught if it can't be implemented. I'll inform our people as soon as I've left here, and they'll notify the Kheldour lords. From here out, we've all got to play our parts, to make certain all our sacrifices haven't been in vain."
Nodding bleakly, Cathan looked up again at the Deryni priest. "I'll do the best I can, Father. And thank you for coming. I know what you risked."
Queron smiled gently. "I only wish I could have reached him in time to bring healing to his body as well as his soul. The Haldanes have not been lucky in this generation. God grant that his sons will fare better."
As Cathan nodded again, wistful, dispirited, Queron gently laid his right hand on his head in blessing, sending across a burst of further information Cathan might need, even as his lips moved in the traditional words.
" _Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus. Amen._ "
Cathan managed to repeat the _Amen_ , reeling a little on his knees, unable to see for a few seconds for the emotion whirling through his mind; but even as he recovered his senses, Queron was gone. Cathan remained where he was for a few minutes, head bowed in his hands, gathering his composure, then rose to follow, pausing to lay a hand lightly on Fulk's shoulder.
"Come, we have duties to the king," he said softly. "If it's permitted, I intend to keep watch by him tonight. Will you join me?"
Fulk nodded slowly and got to his feet, a kindred spirit in his grief, his face a mask of stunned disbelief and loss.
"It will be my honor," he said quietly.
Still shaking off the numbness of his sorrow, Cathan tried to make his mind turn toward practicalities of survival as he and Fulk crossed the courtyard, heading for the cloister garth. He saw no sign of Queron, but there seemed to be a great deal of activity over by the stables. He hoped it was not an indication that Queron had been taken, but as he watched several mounted patrols ride out, he guessed that the elusive Father Donatus was still being sought. He thought the wily old Deryni would be hard to corner.
Thankful for that, at least, he continued on into the cloister garth and headed toward the infirmary and the room where the king's body lay. Somewhat to his surprise, he saw no outward sign that anything had changed within. When he and Fulk entered the room, he found out why.
It apparently had not occurred to the guards outside that the king's aides should not be admitted. Close beside the deathbed, their faces starkly lit by the torches held by two _Custodes_ monks, Manfred and a tight-jawed Rhun looked on while Polidorus stitched at the bloody stump of the king's right hand, assisted by Father Magan. Master Stevanus was present but not participating in this desecration of the royal corpse, head bowed where he stood between Lior and Gallard de Breffni. The king's severed hand lay in a bloodied basin, purpled and almost obscene, hardly recognizable for what it was.
All eyes shifted toward the door as Cathan and Fulk came into the room, and Lior was gesturing urgently to Gallard even as Cathan gasped, "What are you doing?" and started forward, and Fulk tried to hold him back.
"Lord Cathan, I must ask you not to make this any more difficult than it already is," Lior said mildly, as Gallard restrained the younger man, then controlled him with a choke hold when he tried to twist free. "Your loyalty to the king cannot be faulted, but it won't help him now. I shall tell you the official story just once. If you forget it, it could cost you your life. Lord Fulk, I advise you to listen carefully as well. I don't intend to repeat myself."
Fulk had started to go to Cathan's aid, but halted at Lior's warning, stiffening as Manfred came around to lay a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Remember who you are, son," Manfred murmured. "None of this is your affair."
Fulk darted an affronted, helpless look at Cathan but subsided, as had Cathan. Physical resistance clearly was useless. As Cathan carefully shuffled to get his feet back under him, bracing against Gallard's leather-clad arm, the pressure eased across his throat, but the _Custodes_ knight did not release him even then.
"That's much more sensible," Lior purred, casting his glance back to where Polidorus and Magan continued to work, ignoring Stevanus. "Now, as you know, the king has had the very best of medical attention, but his illness became far more serious than initially supposed. Despite the most zealous of care, his hand became gangrenous and had to be amputated. Most unfortunately, his Highness did not survive the shock of the procedure."
"It isn't true," Cathan whispered. "You bled him to death!"
"Not at all," Polidorus interjected, blithely continuing to suture the dead flesh. "While it's true that his Highness was bled several times, to relieve the evil humours causing his fever, numerous witnesses saw him alive this morning after the last of the bloodlettings."
"That's still what killed him," Cathan said stubbornly.
Scowling, Rhun bestirred himself to come and stand directly in front of Cathan, his pale eyes cold and even more pitiless than usual. Whatever differences had existed between him and Manfred earlier, the two apparently had resolved them and now were in one accord.
"If you say that outside this room, you may well suffer the same fate, brother of the queen or no," he said quietly. "The king's injured hand had become badly infected and had to be amputated. Weakened by his fever, he sadly did not survive the surgery. Anyone who says otherwise will be dealt with most unpleasantly. _Anyone_."
Cathan could only close his eyes briefly in dismay, swallowing with difficulty. Fulk had gone pale with disbelief, shrinking back a little under Manfred's hand. Stevanus only shook his head, eyes closed, swaying so alarmingly that Lior caught a hand under his elbow.
"I trust that everyone now understands the rules of engagement," the _Custodes_ priest said quietly. "Lord Fulk, I believe that neither you nor Lord Cathan got very much sleep last night. Perhaps Master Stevanus would be so good as to provide a suitable sleeping potion for each of you—and for himself as well. A rather strong one, I should think. See to it, Stevanus," he said sharply, releasing the battle surgeon's arm. "None of you will be required until tomorrow, when we leave for Rhemuth, and I do not wish to see any of you stirring before that time."
Outraged, Cathan started struggling again, hardly caring when Gallard's choke hold took him swooping into unconsciousness. As he started to come around, gasping for breath and with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he found himself flat on his back on the floor, with Stevanus lifting his head and setting a little metal cup to his lips.
"Just drink it," the battle surgeon murmured urgently, as Cathan pressed his lips together stubbornly and tried to shake his head. "If you won't, I'll have to stick you with _merasha_. I'll have no choice."
Cathan made himself gag it down, tears of impotence welling in his eyes, laying back then to catch his breath as the queasy disorientation of returning consciousness began to give way to the drifting, woolly-headed sensation of the sedative taking hold. After a minute or two, Gallard and another _Custodes_ knight came and took him and Fulk into custody, escorting them civilly enough to another room; but Cathan never remembered his head hitting the pillow.
Meanwhile, Queron had made good his escape from Saint Ostrythe's, blocking memories of his passage and slipping through the convent gate on his little donkey before any serious effort could be organized to detain him. As soon as he could gain shelter in the next village, hiding the donkey in a farmer's barn while he secreted himself in the hayloft, he put himself in trance and sent out an urgent call to Jesse or Ansel or Tieg, all of whom should be nearby.
It was Jesse who caught the summons, though full contact was delayed until he also found a safe place in which to open to rapport. That done, Queron passed on a full account of what he had learned and witnessed at Saint Ostrythe's, saving only the content of Rhys Michael's final confession. Jesse was stunned, but agreed to make certain the news was passed on to the Kheldour lords.
_They must not come until they've received the news by conventional means_ , Queron reiterated, _but this time can be used to plan their strategy. None of us thought it would be this soon_.
_Shall we send them to Rhemuth, then?_ Jesse asked.
_Aye, as quickly as possible. I have no doubt the regents will wish to crown the young king as soon as possible_ — _they may even try to do it privately—but it will take a little while to sort out the new regency, with Albertus and Paulin out of the picture. I'm also not sure how long Cathan will be safe there. It's essential that he go back, for reasons I'll convey to Joram in detail, but his position will become more and more precarious as the queen's pregnancy progresses. Be thinking on this. Meanwhile, I shall be heading back to Sanctuary_.
When he had ended the contact, he lay there in the straw for perhaps a quarter hour more, first running through a fatigue-banishing spell and then considering whether he ought to attempt a second contact now with Joram or whoever was on duty in the council chamber. After reflection, sensing that he was not yet fully restored, he decided that it was wisest first to put more distance between himself and whatever soldiers might be out looking for an aged priest named Donatus, who had heard the king's last confession.
Descending from the hayloft, he retrieved the little donkey and made his way without incident back to the farmer's barn where he had left the brown mare. This time, besides exchanging mounts again, he left a gold coin in compensation for a set of the farmer's clothes and another quick meal, and by dusk was riding at speed through the forest tracts that would lead him back to Caerrorie in a few days' time.
He would stop again in a few hours, to attempt the call to Joram, but for now he could only ride, focused on his intent that the day's events should bring success in the end, praying that their efforts would be enough, praying for the young king who lay dead at Saint Ostrythe's, and praying for the far younger little king who lay somewhere in Rhemuth, as yet oblivious to the weight of the crown which this day had passed to him all unknowing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A wicked messenger falleth into mischief; but a faithful ambassador is health.
—Proverbs 13:17
While the new king of Gwynedd slept in Rhemuth Castle, as unaware as those around him that his destiny was upon him—and in four-year-old innocence, unlikely to comprehend his new estate, even had he known—one set as a guardian of his welfare moved unobtrusively among the men dining noisily in the castle's great hall, filling wine goblets when needed and looking for a young knight she had never seen before.
Rhysel had received word that he was coming two days before, passed from Jesse to Joram and then to her. His name was Sir Robert Ainslie, and what he carried was of inestimable value to the future of the Haldane line. That the king had managed not only to draw up a codicil to his will, naming regents of his own choosing, but also to smuggle it out from under the great lords' noses, was no mean feat. It was already common gossip around the castle that Lord Albertus had been killed while on the campaign in Eastmarch, with Father Paulin so badly injured that he was not expected to live.
What was not common gossip was the way Albertus and Paulin had met their fates. Rhysel knew, because Joram had passed on what was picked up from the link they had set in Dimitri. She was sure that Hubert and the other great lords also knew—or thought they did. Rhysel still could hardly believe that the king really had emerged unscathed and unsuspected from the incident. She had told the queen of none of this, just as she had kept back the extent of the king's recent injury, though she now feared the latter to be rather more severe than first thought.
Neither had she yet told the queen of the messenger she now awaited, nor of what the man carried. There was time enough for that, once Rhysel had it in her hands. As she had last night and the previous one, as the officers protecting Rhemuth gathered at the long trestle tables for the evening meal, she lightly scanned each new man who came into the hall whose face was not already familiar to her. Though she knew the messenger's name and that he must be reasonably young, her sources had been able to tell her nothing of his physical appearance. She hoped his arrival would not cause someone to wonder why he had returned prematurely from the campaign with the king.
When she finally caught his trace, she realized she need not have worried. His appearance would never turn heads, even in court attire. He was not unattractive; simply not memorable. He was stocky and nearly a head shorter than most of the other men in the hall, soberly clad in nondescript brown riding leathers, and only his gilded spurs and the dingy white belt supporting a good but plain sword declared his knightly rank—yet another anonymous young knight perhaps come to Court to seek royal service. He had halted uncertainly just inside the doorway, looking tired and a little irritable as he pulled off a leather cap and swept a watery blue gaze across the hall, obviously looking for someone, one hand riffling idly through curly brown hair that was starting to thin on top.
Changing her pitcher for a fuller one, Rhysel took up an empty goblet and began casually working her way toward him, changing direction as he started to make his way slowly along the row of window embrasures that overlooked the gardens. By the time she drew near to him, he had found a place at the end of one of the long tables and had sunk down wearily on one of the benches. She gave him a friendly smile as she filled the goblet and set it before him with a curtsey and managed to brush his hand with hers as she withdrew, confirming that he was, indeed, Sir Robert Ainslie.
"You look thirsty, my lord," she said coyly, refilling the cups of several of the other men seated around him. "Have you ridden far today?"
"Not so far as I would ride tonight," he said with a grin, taking appreciative measure of her with his eyes as he lifted his cup in salute and then took a healthy quaff.
Ribald hoots of approval surrounded them as he set it down, still grinning, and swept her onto his knee to bend her in a lusty kiss. Giving only token struggle, she let him enjoy it—for she had put the notion in his mind—and used the opportunity to probe him. The missive was inside his tunic. That confirmed, she set instructions for a later rendezvous and a present withdrawal. Young Robert surfaced from the kiss flushed and ardent, blue eyes smouldering, but he let her go without protest as she disentangled herself good-naturedly from his embrace and reclaimed her pitcher.
"A notable introduction, sir knight, but you needs must feed your weary body before indulging other appetites," she said, lightly laughing as she beckoned to a serving squire with a full platter of roast pork. "At least Rhemuth can sleep easy, knowing she has such lusty knights defending her."
He grinned and made another grab in her direction, kissing his hand to her when she deftly avoided him, and was grinning still as he helped himself to food and began wolfing it down, interspersed with banter with his fellows.
She slipped out of the hall as soon after that as she could and made her way to the chapel royal to wait for him. It was one of the few public places in the castle where both of them might be seen without causing comment and where some degree of privacy might be hoped for or at least arranged. An old soldier and one of the elderly laundresses were praying in the chapel, so after lighting a votive candle and kneeling for a brief prayer of her own, Rhysel went back outside to lurk in the shadows.
He came half an hour later, a trifle less steady on his feet than he had been, but alert and purposeful as he spotted her beckoning gesture and came to join her in the little vestibule past the chapel doors. His blue eyes were boyish-wide and mystified, and she decided he was somewhat younger than she had first supposed, perhaps hardly older than herself.
"You have something for me?" she whispered, as he took her hands.
"Aye, for the queen," he replied. "But how came it that you spoke to me so openly in the hall? I was told to be most wary."
_It was not open at all_ , she whispered in his mind, catching control before he could tense and start to draw back in alarm. _I am Deryni in service to the king. You're in no danger. Give me what you carry_.
Without will to resist, he reached into the front of his tunic and produced the document, folded to palm size and sealed on the outside with the king's seal. Even as her fingers touched it, the door to the chapel opened from the inside.
By the time the old soldier had emerged, limping and leaning heavily on a stick, Rhysel had drawn her dazed accomplice into an embrace to rival the one in the hall, the incriminating document pressed between their bodies as their lips pressed together, his body shielding her face from the soldier's gaze as she again linked her mind deeply with his and bade him assist in the illusion they were creating for the old man's benefit. Robert was only human, but he adapted to her instruction without hesitation or question, bending her back in the curve of one arm in a passionate kiss while the other hand probed deep into her bodice—and also secreted his document there.
A part of her mind remained detached, keeping track of the bemused soldier who limped past smiling, but she found her body responding to the young knight's kiss, as he to hers, and a part of her mind as well. Her heart was pounding as she withdrew from him, the danger now past, and she relaxed her controls as she glanced up at him.
"Forgive me for that," she whispered. "I hope you understand why I had to let it happen."
He took a deep breath and suppressed a little shudder as he nodded and reached into a pouch at his belt, producing the king's signet ring, which he pressed into her hand with a lopsided grin.
"I would give a great deal to be the man you really love," he murmured. "You were in my mind, weren't you?"
As she arched an eyebrow at him, supping the king's ring onto her finger with the seal turned inward, he ventured a cautious nod.
"I'm not afraid," he whispered. "Lord Cathan taught me that there's nothing to fear. Did you Read all that you need to know?"
"There wasn't time or focus," she admitted. "May I do it now?"
He smiled with just a touch of irony. "Have I a choice?"
"I prefer to have permission," she replied. "I'm sorry I had to use you the way I did, but I would do far more than that to serve the king and his House. If it's any consolation to your manhood, I rather enjoyed it, despite the sheer terror that the man was going to interfere."
The irony of his smile turned slightly more wistful. "That's something, then. I—suppose you must block my memory when you're done. I know you have to protect yourself."
"I do," she said softly, taking his face between her hands. "But I can leave you the pleasure—and keep my own."
Her kiss took him gently into the promised forgetfulness, as she delved deep and Read as much as she could of Cathan's briefing when he handed over the document and of Robert's own observations throughout the campaign. She found him an honorable young man, both clever and kind, loyal to his pledged word and faithful to his friends. Regarding his possible continuing usefulness to the king's cause, she noted that his loyalty had been freely given, even before Cathan set the mild compulsions of which he was capable.
She had no right to recruit him to active conspiracy when in this vulnerable state, but further probing confirmed that he gladly would choose to serve, if given the chance. She resolved to give him that chance, well aware that she made her decision on personal grounds, as well as those of expediency for the Haldane cause, trusting her instincts. Leaving intact his memories of what he had done, both by choice and by constraint, she forbade him only the forced disclosure of information that might be harmful to the king; no torture might wrest it out of him.
She gave him then some knowledge of herself and her mission, though of that he could not speak or even write—the protection he himself had expected. But concerning what had passed between the two of them, she made no adjustments at all—and allowed herself to drink deeply of his pleasure as she withdrew from control but not from the kiss, letting him slowly bring it to an end in his own good time and pull back, gazing wonderingly into her hazel eyes.
"I have a thousand questions that I know there isn't time to ask or answer now," he whispered, stroking trembling fingertips down her cheek and across her lips. "When may I see you again?"
She swallowed noisily, her head tipped back to meet his gaze.
"You should return to the king when you've slept," she whispered. "He needs friends nearby, and 'tis best the great lords never learn that you were the bearer of this document." She lightly touched her hand to her bodice, under which it rested. "The sooner you go, the less chance of being missed by those with the king."
"For _his_ sake, I will do it," Robert agreed. "But may I not see you again before I go, even briefly?"
"Arrange to be walking in the garden tomorrow at mid-morning," she replied. "Over near the rose arbors. I often walk there with the queen in the afternoons, but I will try to contrive a reason for an earlier walk tomorrow. I will say that her Highness wishes some roses for her hair. But if, by some chance, I have not come by noon, you must go anyway."
He nodded, lifting her hands to his lips. "I will be there. God keep you."
"And you," she whispered.
He kissed her palms, then her lips, briefly and gently, then turned away and set out along the corridor toward the great hall, too prudent to risk further danger, now that their farewells had been said. She watched until he had disappeared around a turn in the corridor, not once looking back, then retreated to the little cubby she shared with one of the other maids.
Elspeth was already asleep, but Rhysel deepened that sleep before striking a light to the little rushlight set on the tiny table on her side of the bed. It was too late to go to the queen without arousing suspicion, but she could at least confirm what the packet was alleged to contain, before hiding it away. The signet she would give to the queen in the morning, as confirmation that the document had arrived.
Taking the packet from her bodice, she undressed down to her shift, extinguished the rushlight, then lay down beside Elspeth and clasped the packet between her two hands, closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath to begin settling into trance. As she exhaled, she visualized the staring pattern known as _An Suil-Dia_ , the Eye of God, and let her consciousness be drawn toward the center of its mazelike convolutions, deepening her trance. When the centering was focused, she reached out a tendril of questing to the message between her two hands and slowly read the words.
_We, Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, by the Grace of God King of Gwynedd, Lord of Meara, Mooryn, and the Purple March, and Overlord of all the lands of Kheldour, being of sound mind and body, do declare this to be an irrevocable Codicil to Our Last Will and Testament, and hereby renounce all previous arrangements that may conflict with this Codicil, and hereby set in place the following Provisions, which may not be changed or set aside save by unanimous assent of the parties herein named or their legal heirs, they being of age and legal majority_.
_In the event of Our death before the coming of age of Our Son and Heir, the Prince Owain Javan Cinhil, or the coming of age of the Child now carried by Our Queen, should the said Owain die before Our second Child's majority, We do hereby appoint as Regents for the Kingdom of Gwynedd His Grace the Duke of Claibourne, also known as Graham MacEwan, and the Right Honourable the Earl of Marley, Sighere son of Sighere, to serve jointly or separately, as may seem to them most expedient for the welfare of Our Kingdom, regardless of whatever other Regents may be appointed by Instruments signed by Us or said to be signed by Us. These appointments shall be effective until such time as our Heirs shall come of age or until said Lords are replaced by their heirs of legal age, whether by resignation or death_.
_In that We repose full and unequivocal trust in the said Lords of Claibourne and Marley, We hereby authorize and pardon any military action deemed necessary by the said Lords to secure and exercise their lawful authority as Regents for Our Heirs_.
_Given under Our Hand and Seal this twenty-fourth day of June, being the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, in the Year of Our Lord Nine Hundred Twenty-Eight at our Castle of Lochalyn in the Earldom of Eastmarch, Kheldour Province, wherefore the undersigned have this day publicly reaffirmed their Oaths of Fealty to Us, in further witness of their Fidelity to this Our Solemn Decree_.
(signed) Rhys R. (his seal)
Agreed: Claibourne (his seal)
Agreed: Marley (his seal)
Attest: Stacia, Countess of Eastmarch (her seal)
Attest: Fr. Derfel (+).
Rhysel let herself drift for a moment when she had finished scanning, allowing the import to sink in. As Joram had told her, it was a brilliant document—no guarantee that the great lords would not try to kill off Claibourne and Marley and thus eliminate the opposition, but certainly a good incentive for them to keep the king alive as long as possible, to avoid having to deal with the problem.
For to deny the Kheldour lords their just due was to risk civil war—a thing she did not think the great lords would dare, given that their ranks had recently been reduced by the loss of Udaut, Albertus, and Paulin. The great lords probably would allow Richard Murdoch to continue in the constable's post left vacant by Udaut's death, since Richard had married Udaut's daughter; but until the _Custodes_ question was sorted out and stabilized and replacements for Albertus and Paulin had been confirmed on the royal council, she suspected the great lords would tread very carefully, indeed. And the document in her hands was a way of ensuring that they did.
Still hovering between trance and wakefulness, Rhysel cupped her hands over it on her breast, considering the hiding place she had already devised for it, then decided that before surfacing she would first send through confirmation to Joram that the document had arrived. It was the hour when they might expect her sending, but to her surprise, a link not only was open but seeking, with Joram himself pushing at the other end.
With both parties stretching for the contact, Joram's amplified probe swept into her mind like an avalanche, imparting his grim news with a force that nearly made her cry out. Her confirmation of the codicil's arrival was overwhelmed by the devastating news that it was already in effect, that young Prince Owain had already been king for nearly half a day. The king had died at an obscure convent called Saint Ostrythe's, somewhere between Sheele and Ebor, already weakened from his hand injury and then bled unto death by order of the _Custodes Fidei_ , despite the fact that Rhun, at least, had known of the codicil's existence and of the crisis that would loom for him and his fellow regents as soon as the king's death became known.
It changed everything. Despite Rhys Michael's heroic effort to safeguard what he could for his sons, his effort now would be tested in the forge of internal strife and possible civil war; and if the shock of his death cost the queen the child she carried, young King Owain Haldane might well be the last Haldane king.
Rhysel kept herself focused for Joram's instructions, but her mind was numb, the fragile delight of her brief flirtation with Robert Ainslie all but blotted out in the greater urgency of what she must do for the queen. When Joram had withdrawn from his contact, leaving her stunned and bereft, she lay there for nearly an hour with tears running silently from her eyes and into her hair, hugging the now priceless codicil for comfort and caressing the king's signet between her fingers, mourning this new failure of their hopes and dreams.
Eventually she rose by the light of cautious handfire to secrete the document and the king's signet underneath one of the floorboards, with a charm set to dispel any curiosity about the possible hiding place. She lay back down in darkness then, though it was a long time before she drifted into troubled sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
For she is privy to the mysteries of the knowledge of God, and a lover of his works.
—Wisdom of Solomon 8:4
Rhysel went to the queen the next morning with some reluctance, for she did not relish the charade she must play, the deception she must maintain. She had awakened to the leaden knell of the cathedral bells tolling down in the city, soon picked up and carried by the closer bells of Saint Hilary's-Within-the-Walls and other lesser bells throughout the city. Though she knew that news of the king's death could not have reached Rhemuth yet, apprehension was a choking lump in her throat until she could make inquiries.
She was somewhat dismayed to learn that it was Archbishop Oriss who had died, sometime during the early morning hours, for he had been the sole moderate sitting on the Royal Council and the only one of its members not to have been actively involved in the murder of King Javan six years before. In theory, he would be replaced by a formal vote of the assembled bishops, but in fact it was Hubert, the Archbishop-Primate, who would determine Oriss' successor—and to Hubert's advantage, rather than the advantage of the House of Haldane. The one positive aspect to the entire matter was that the mere turnover of the office would further destabilize the existing Council, already weakened by the loss of Udaut, Albertus, and Paulin.
But for now, as a dutiful member of the queen's household, she must feign respectful regret for the archbishop's passing, just as she must pretend that she did not know of a far more devastating loss farther north of here. She presented herself in the royal boudoir to find Michaela oddly pensive, wistfully fingering a little gold cross around her neck while Eithne, one of her maids, laced her into a gown of dull purple. Lady Estellan had chosen the gown as a mark of respect for Archbishop Oriss, also laying out a seemly black veil and the simplest of the queen's gold circlets; but as Rhysel set about the usual morning ritual of brushing and arranging the royal tresses, she realized that the queen's subdued mood was caused not by regret over an archbishop's passing but by growing concern for her husband's safety.
And Rhysel dared do nothing to reassure her on that account, for the truth must be avoided for yet a little while, and offering any false hope would be cruel. To lighten the immediate atmosphere, and also to set the stage for covering any outward reaction to the more welcome news she brought, Rhysel gradually shifted their casual chitchat to a shyly offered description of the young knight who had paid her court in the great hall the night before. It soon focused the attention of all the ladies in the room, eager for the gossip of little Liesel's new romance, but it also provided ready cover for the queen's real relief when Rhysel silently confirmed that the knight had delivered the codicil as well as a kiss. Supposed shyness about imparting too much detail about so delicate and new a flirtation also saved Rhysel from possibly letting slip hints of the more dread news that had arrived later in the night.
Protocol demanded the attendance of the entire household at Mass that morning, out of respect for the archbishop. En route to the Chapel Royal, Rhysel contrived to press the king's ring into Michaela's hand, biting her lip at the glad surge of happiness that swelled the queen's breast as she slipped it on her hand with the seal turned inward and clasped her hands prayerfully around it.
The Mass itself provided focus for Rhysel to set about the next of the tasks Joram had set her the night before. Kneeling beside the queen, who soon lost herself in renewed prayers for her husband's safe return, his ring clasped between her hands, Rhysel offered up her own prayer for the repose of the king's soul, then used the remainder of the service to gently insinuate new controls in Michaela's mind, set to damp her grief when the inevitable word came that her beloved Rhysem was dead—for nothing must interfere with the child she carried, now become Heir Presumptive of Gwynedd, even before his birth.
Afterward, when the queen returned to her solar for the morning's unvarying session of needlework with her ladies, all unaware what her Deryni confidante had done, Rhysel betook herself to the castle gardens, far toward the end by the great hall. There she set herself to cutting flowers for the queen's bower, taking her time, laying them one by one in a flat basket, being careful to move slowly and openly among the garden's wide paths. She had carried her basket into a rose arbor and was admiring a perfect bloom of blood-crimson when Robert joined her, slipping his arms around her waist from behind and leaning down to nuzzle the side of her neck.
She stiffened and averted her face, ready to muffle his reaction if he could not, as she whispered, "Please, you mustn't. I have ill news. The king is dead."
She felt him go rigid as well and sensed the dull grief welling from deep inside him even as he held her more tightly, burying his face against her neck for comfort now rather than passion.
"His hand?" he asked.
"His physicians," she replied, turning in the circle of his arms to face him. "Or rather, I should say his _Custodes_ physicians. They bled him, Robert. Four times in less than a day and a night, and far too much. Even once or twice would have been perilous, as weak as he had become. One of our people got to him before the end—a Healer, even—but it was too late. He died yesterday afternoon."
Robert swallowed hard and held her to him. She could feel his heart beating next to hers, but she steeled her own will and made herself extend light controls as she slid her arms around his waist.
"You must go back as quickly as you can," she whispered. "The little king is safe enough for now, but Lord Cathan must be protected. He will be one of the queen's few sources of comfort when she learns of the king's death—but only if he can stay alive to do it. He knows this, but his grief could make him rash. It also may not have occurred to him how important his help will be in aiding the Kheldour lords to assert their rights as regents. You must go to him and be his voice of reason, if you can. I'll set a message for him. You will not know what you carry until he Reads it from you. Are you bold enough to invite his touch?"
"To use his powers on me?" Robert asked. "He did before, and you have done. If I was going to be afraid of _that_ , it's a little late, isn't it?"
She drew back and smiled sadly, setting her fingertips lightly on his cheeks. "My bold, brave knight," she whispered. "How I wish we had met in less dangerous times. I like it not, to impose my will on one I would liefer have offer his aid."
"Dear lady, I gladly offer all I have and am," he breathed, "whether you are Deryni or no, whether or not you must impose your will to help me do what will help our new young king. Do you think I would scorn such assistance, knowing it will make me stronger in his service? I am not so proud as to think I cannot be the more effective tool, simply because the aid you give me is beyond my ability to do alone. If it is humanly possible, I will bring Lord Cathan back safely to the queen. Tell her she may depend upon it." He frowned. "She doesn't know yet, does she?"
Rhysel shook her head. "No, and she must not, until official word comes, lest I be discovered. It will also give me time to prepare her. I've begun that already. Nothing must be allowed to endanger the child she carries."
"Aye, God forbid," he murmured, bending to gently kiss her forehead.
She used the contact to implant the message for Cathan, sent and set in the blink of an eye, even as Robert pulled back to look at her in question.
"You must get to him somehow and give him opportunity to Read you," she murmured. "I hope he will know to attempt it when he sees you have returned. There will be at least one other among that company who can help you; he will make himself known to you. Once Cathan has my instructions, simply do as he and the other bid you and try to bring both of you back safely. Both the queen and I shall be waiting."
She kissed him then, this time with no subterfuge or mental augmentation, simply letting herself melt into his arms, feeling the sweet pleasure flooding through her body and his. It was he who pulled back at last, trembling with passion yet unleashed, to draw apart and only hold her hands, looking searchingly into the golden eyes and drawing shaky breath.
"When I come back, Rhysel Thuryn, I intend to ask for your hand in marriage," he whispered. "Don't answer now; just think on it until I return. I don't care what you are; perhaps I love you more because of it. I do know that I love you, as God is my witness. May He keep you safe."
With that, he was bending to kiss both her hands, then catching up the perfect red rose she had laid in her basket just when he arrived. He took it with him as he receded down the path, not looking back, and Rhysel sank to her knees to weep over her basket of roses, unable to watch him go, wondering whether all their efforts would come to naught. The codicil was even now in force, but could the Kheldour lords execute it?
The codicil to the king's will was about to become of great interest to others in Rhemuth, though they would not learn for some days that it was already in force. As Sir Robert Ainslie galloped northward out of the city, a sedate ecclesiastical procession under _Custodes_ escort was winding its way back up to the castle after a noon Requiem Mass for the departed Archbishop Oriss, whose body now would lie beneath the cathedral transept until his state funeral, two days hence. Archbishop Hubert had presided alongside Rhemuth's Auxiliary Bishop, Alfred of Woodbourne, and now gave blessings from the scarlet-upholstered sedan chair that had become his habitual mode of transport in the last few years, as his bulk increased beyond the ability of any single horse to carry him securely.
Six burly gentlemen bore him this afternoon, all but engulfed by the vast black cope that swept from beneath a jeweled golden mitre. His crozier was in his left hand, set in a socket along the side of the sedan chair. A crucifer and two priests swinging thuribles walked before him, and Lord Tammaron and Richard Murdoch rode to either side, both soberly clad in mourning like the rest. The two pressed on ahead as the litter negotiated the last ascent through the castle gate, and as Hubert alighted from the chair before the steps of the castle's great hall, he was surprised to see Tammaron already reading a missive just handed over by a weary-looking courier in Rhun's livery.
"I think we'd better go inside to discuss this," Tammaron said, giving Hubert an odd, strained look as he folded the letter and slipped it into his gown. "It's from Rhun. It appears the king may have taken the bit in his teeth in a totally different manner than we feared. Oh, and Paulin has died."
When they were closeted in Tammaron's private study and Hubert had read the letter for the third time, he tossed it onto the table and shook his head, anger lighting the china-blue eyes. He had shed his mitre and cope and loomed in the sober purple of his episcopal robes.
"It has to be a bluff," he said. "There's no way he could have executed a codicil to his will. And even if he did, it wouldn't stand up in court. Not one of _our_ courts."
"You've read Rhun's letter," Tammaron said blandly. "He saw the draft copy. If it isn't a bluff—if enough originals were executed and witnessed by enough people—even one of our courts would at least have to give the matter consideration. And there's no doubt that the Kheldour lords would certainly push it as hard as they could. I've always said it was a mistake to eliminate Duke Ewan from the last regency, and now it's come back to haunt us. Sorry, Richard, but your father was occasionally overzealous."
Richard picked up the letter and scanned it again, ignoring the reference to his father.
"We can force him to write a new will when he gets back," he said. "We'd already begun drafting the provisions to replace Albertus and Paulin in the list of future regents. We'll simply make certain the wording is ironclad, superseding anything else he's ever signed."
Tammaron waved a hand dismissively. "That's understood. It still won't stop Claibourne and Marley from producing their documents and trying to assert their rights."
As he sighed, Hubert was pulling a fresh piece of parchment toward him and taking pen in hand.
"I'm sending for Father Secorim," he said, over the scratching of the pen on parchment. "Oriss' death leaves another gap on the Council that I want to fill as quickly as possible, certainly before the king returns. I trust neither of you will object if I name Secorim as archbishop-designate? He'll have to be ratified by the bishops, of course, but they'll do as I command. That will put another man I can trust back on the Council right away."
Tammaron cocked his head quizzically. "Didn't you have him in mind for Paulin's replacement?"
"Yes, but if he were only vicar-general of the _Custodes_ , he could be ousted; the Archbishop of Rhemuth can't. I'll find another vicar-general: Lior, perhaps, or maybe Hallex, out at _Arx Fidei_. Meanwhile, this will give us another strong voice on the Council, to put pressure on the king when he returns. Richard, give this to a courier, please."
As Richard disappeared with the summons, Tammaron gave Hubert an uneasy glance.
"He's pulled a very shrewd move, has our clever young king," he murmured. "Even the threat of such a document's existence ensures that we'll do our utmost to keep him alive. It cancels out all our old threats until Owain comes of age."
Hubert picked up the offending letter once again and hefted it in his hand, the rosebud lips pursed in sour indignation.
"It's a clever enough challenge, I'll grant you. But I think he'll find it isn't clever enough by half. He thinks he's found the ideal threat, but it's worthless, so long as he's alive. And while he's alive, he _can_ be manipulated. There are worse threats than death, for a king."
But the king had already passed beyond the threat of death. The military cavalcade that had borne him ailing to Saint Ostrythe's Convent two days before left it that morning as a funeral cortege, silent save for the creak of leather and the jingle of harness and the quiet whuffling of fresh steeds eager for the day's journey. _Custodes_ monks mounted on black horses led the procession, one bearing a processional cross and the other the king's banner, the latter drabbed by black streamers drooping from its staff.
The king's body, now coffined in oak and covered with a rich funeral pall, traveled in a litter borne by two black horses and escorted by a score of black-clad _Custodes_ knights. Atop the black damask and velvet of the pall had been fastened the king's sword and the golden circlet he had worn upon his helmet. The king's earl marshal and vice-marshal rode to either side of the coffin as a particular guard of honor, both in borrowed black _Custodes_ mantles despite the rising heat of the day.
Sir Cathan Drummond, the dead king's brother-in-law, rode farther back in the cortege, hollow-eyed and looking very pale. There was reason for that besides his grief, for he had clawed his way from drugged sleep that morning to find that he had been bled during the night—probably not enough to endanger health, for they preferred to keep him alive for Mika's sake, but certainly enough to weaken him appreciably. The other bed in the tiny room had been slept in—by Fulk, he supposed—and a dried smear of blood on the sheet suggested that he, too, had been bled.
The threat did not need further elucidation. Clearly, even the possibility of resistance was not to be allowed. Even as Cathan had considered this grim development, fingering the bandage on his bare arm and trying to shake off a beastly headache, Stevanus had come into the little room with a monk Cathan did not recognize, who silently examined the arm and then remained until the patient had drank down every drop of the cup he had brought. It looked and smelled like ordinary morning ale, perhaps a bit better than most, but there was an undertaste to it that Cathan did not dare to question. Once the monk had left, he rounded on Stevanus in near panic.
"What was that?" he demanded. "What does this mean?" He indicated his bandaged arm. "And where is Fulk?"
"You'd better dress while we talk," Stevanus said quietly, drawing the pile of Cathan's discarded clothes to him and sitting on the edge of the bed.
Wearily he related how Fulk had already been removed from the temptation to speak of what he had witnessed in the king's death chamber—rousted from bed at daybreak and posted off to Cassan without so much as a by-your-leave, in custody of two _Custodes_ officers and half a dozen Culdi archers, to enter house arrest at his brother's court until it was certain he could hold his tongue.
"As for you," he went on, "that was your new physician, Brother Embert. The ale he gave you was laced with rather a stronger dose of what the regents used to give Alroy to keep him tractable. I'm afraid you can expect the same every morning. Embert's also the one who bled you, on Manfred's orders. I don't think they'll do it again soon—they've made their point abundantly clear—but you'd better be very, very careful. Rhun didn't try to stop it. I hardly need remind you that he's wanted to see you dead for a very long time. The only thing saving you for now is that he and Manfred both know they'll have to answer to Archbishop Hubert if you die and then the queen loses the new baby. If Hubert had been along on this expedition, things might have gone very differently. He's a very pragmatic individual."
"He's a murderer like the rest of them," Cathan murmured, pulling on his boots, though he kept his voice low.
Stevanus heaved a disconsolate sigh. "I've come to see that. I can't but think the entire _Custodes_ Order must be tainted as well, though I didn't want to believe it at first. I thought I had a true vocation, that the Order had important work to do. I even thought I was doing the right thing when I helped stage the king's 'abduction' while he was still prince. And I was very good at what I did.
"But it was all a lie," he continued, handing Cathan the tunic to his riding leathers. "The entire focus of the _Custodes Fidei_ is and always has been a cover for gaining secular power. I lay most of the blame for that on Paulin and Albertus, but I have little hope that their successors will be any better."
Cathan pulled on the leather tunic over his head, wincing at the twinge on his sore arm, and began doing up the front laces.
"You said this Brother Embert is to be my new physician. Does that mean you're being sent away, too, like Fulk?"
Stevanus glanced at his feet, nodding dismally. "Would that it were so benign. No one will dare to slay Earl Tammaron's son. I'm—ordered to go to the abbey at Ramos tomorrow, when we pass nearby. Father Lior has called it a 'retreat,' to refocus myself after the strain of what I've been through. He's my superior in the Order, so I have no choice but to go. But it's the harshest of the _Custodes_ houses. God alone knows whether I shall ever leave there, save in a coffin like the king." He looked up uncertainly. "Can you forgive me for what they made me do to him?"
"You were never like them," Cathan assured him, bending uncomfortably to buckle on his spurs. "And you tried to serve him faithfully, in the end."
"Aye, but too little and too late."
"For him, perhaps, but not for the Haldane line, pray God."
"I do—and shall," Stevanus whispered. "And for you, my lord."
Saying nothing, Cathan tried to put on a brave face for Stevanus as he stood to buckle on his sword, a little surprised that he had been allowed to retain his weapons—though what harm he could do with them now, with the king already dead, God alone knew. To his dismay, his knees went weak and his vision blurred, and he had to catch his balance on the battle surgeon's arm until a wave of vertigo had passed.
"Light-headed," he murmured. "Is that from the drug or the bloodletting?"
"A little of both, I expect. If you can exaggerate the effects, pretend to be more affected than you are, there's a chance they'll decrease the medication after a day or two. I wish there were something I could do to help, but—" He shrugged and sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. "Do you think you'll be able to manage a horse?"
Cathan gave a weak snort. "I'm sure I'll have minders to keep an eye on me. You don't really think they'd let me fall off, do you?" His tone made it no question at all.
One of his minders turned out to be Gallard de Breffni, though he hardly cared who rode to either side of him that first morning. Merely staying on his horse occupied the greater part of his conscious effort until well past noon, and he had no need to exaggerate anything. It was not until late afternoon that his brain had cleared sufficiently for him to string together more than two thoughts without getting lost in his own chains of logic, and by then he was too physically exhausted to do more than fall into bed after picking wearily at an ill-cooked meal.
His observations over the next few days were not reassuring. Though his minders became less attentive, once convinced of his disinclination to do anything besides try to stay mounted, Gallard de Breffni's presence at his side was a constant reminder of the story Rhysem had told him of his kidnapping, a few months before Javan's murder, when the treacherous Gallard had posed as one of the prince's captors and Rhysem himself had been swept along similarly helpless and drug-blurred and weakened. He thought they did ease back on his medication after the first day, but he continued to feign greater weakness than he actually felt, in hopes that he might begin to regain some degree of control.
But always with him was the awareness that any untoward initiative on his part might bring a dose of _merasha_ with a Deryni pricker rather than the gentler sedative Embert had been giving him. He nearly wept that second morning when, just before midday, he saw Stevanus and half a dozen _Custodes_ set off on another road, headed eastward toward Ramos. He found himself hating the _Custodes Fidei_ more with every passing hour.
And ever before him was the fear, the uncertainty, both for his personal safety and for the greater goal. He wondered whether Robert Ainslie had made it safely to Rhemuth and prayed that Mika's copy of the codicil was now in safe hands.
For that matter, what of the even more important copies in Kheldour? Did the holders even know yet that the document must already be exercised? Dom Queron had promised to get word to their allies at Lochalyn Castle, but could Claibourne and Marley act quickly enough?
Even as Cathan pondered these questions, Ansel and Tieg and an escort of four armed men rode under the gate arch of Lochalyn Castle and asked for urgent audience with the highest-ranking person in charge. It was just on noon, and the castle yard seemed mostly deserted, though a blacksmith was hammering away in his forge, over by the stable yard, alongside several armorers repairing weapons. Stacia came down to see them presently, a wolfhound pressing against her apron and tweed skirts, the glorious red hair bound under a linen kerchief. She blanched as she recognized young Tieg.
"May we speak with you in private, lady?" Ansel murmured.
She summoned Father Derfel as soon as she heard the bare gist of their news, and by midafternoon they had been joined in the solar by Graham, Sighere, and Corban, recalled from their patrolling of the surrounding area.
"Damn the bluidy lot o' them!" Sighere blurted, slamming a beefy hand against the table when Ansel had given them a sketchy account of the king's death and touched anew on the implications. "That puir lad. An' they're apt tae cut us right out if we dinnae act quickly."
" _Can_ you act this quickly?" Ansel asked. "Is the border secure enough to pull troops just now?"
"Och, aye," Graham replied. "There hasnae been a peep fra Torenth this week gone, nae sign o' Marek. Besides, we willnae need ta tak many. No more'n a score, or we cannae travel fast enou'. Corban, kin ye spare us those?"
Corban nodded. "Aye, the fewer gone, the fewer missed. It's coverin' yer and Sighere's absence I'm thinking will be chancy. Ye dinnae want the bluidy _Custodes_ houndin' ye back tae Rhemuth tae mak life more difficult."
"God forbid!" Tieg breathed. "Can you create some kind of diversion?"
"Aye, it can be done," Sighere said. "We'll send the _Custodes_ north wi' Delacroix, tae check out the pass through the Arranal, an' the levies fra Caerrorie an' Sheele can be dispersed locally tae guard the pass here."
Corban nodded his agreement. "Just ane favor I'd ask: Could ye mebbe figure a way tae clap the Caerrorie commander in irons? He's Manfred MacInnis' son, ye know. I wouldnae feel safe wi' one o' _that_ tribe left in any position of authority while ye hare off tae Rhemuth."
"I think something can be arranged," Ansel said grimly. "I'd also suggest that you try to keep news of the king's death from leaking out until we're well away. I suspect that official notification will be delayed for some time, since Rhun and Manfred know about the codicil, but it _will_ reach here eventually. What are MacInnis' officers like? Anyone who can be trusted?"
Sighere shrugged. "I couldnae say. He's keen on discipline, though. 'Tis probably best tae pretend he's goin' with us, an' mebbe forge some orders tae cover his absence."
Tieg chuckled. "No need to forge anything, my lord. If you'll get him here, I believe I can safely assure you that Lord Iver MacInnis will write a brilliant set of orders to cover whatever we'd like. I don't ordinarily condone tampering with a person's free will, but in this case, I'll be pleased to make an exception."
"I think I can improve on that idea," Ansel said. "We'll send Iver MacInnis _and_ the _Custodes_ commander north to do some reconnoitering—after both commanders have written impeccable orders to cover their maneuvers. That will also delay them finding out about the king, and give us a few more days' lead time. If we succeed in Rhemuth, it will be right away or not at all."
"About Rhemuth," Graham ventured. "D'ye really think we can pull this off wi' only twenty men?"
Ansel smiled. "We'll be more than twenty by the time we reach Rhemuth."
As he outlined the rest of their plan, hastily reworked from the original scenario for year's end, Sighere laughed aloud in sheer delight, his bristling red hair and beard giving him a look of vulpine cunning. Stacia, too, was smiling and nodding, as Ansel started drafting the brief sets of orders that would be necessary to get Iver and Joshua out of Lochalyn.
By nightfall, following a flurry of activity in the several hours preceding, Lord Iver MacInnis and Lord Joshua Delacroix led out fully half the royal troops still based at Lochalyn, heading northward on a special recce to scout the next pass northward. The remaining royal troops were left in Corban Howell's capable hands.
Shortly after their departure, a rather smaller, more lightly mounted band headed south, led by the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley and including two new-come borderers and a middle-aged priest mounted somewhat precariously on a smooth-gaited rouncy. The new Earl of Eastmarch rode with them as far as the camp, his lady watching from the castle ramparts. When the riders had disappeared into the dusk, the countess retired to the castle chapel to offer prayers for the success of their mission, and a special mother's prayer for the little boy in Rhemuth who now was king.
CHAPTER THIRTY
And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you.
—II Peter 2:3
It was on the morning of the next day, the royal party's third day out from Saint Ostrythe's and the fourth since the king's death, that Cathan Drummond at last was able to seize some small hope concerning his situation. The army had camped the previous night in a field half a day's ride south and west of Ramos, close along the banks of the Eirian. Wispy fog still clung to the ground, risen up from the river during the night, as his minders escorted him to his mount. Just as Gallard was giving him a leg up, Cathan spotted Robert Ainslie not far away, leading up a saddled horse for his father.
The exertion required to mount made Cathan light-headed, so that he had to hold tight to his horse's mane for a few seconds until his vision steadied. When he could look around again, Robert was gone.
Though he knew his mind was at its muzziest early in the morning, right after taking Brother Embert's potion, he was sure it was Robert he had seen. But Embert's drug also made him uncertain whether the young knight had returned from his mission or simply had betrayed Cathan and the king and never gone. He put but little stock in the compulsions he had tried to set, for he knew his own shortcomings as a Deryni, but he hoped he had not misjudged Robert that badly. Beyond thinking was the possibility that Robert had gone right to Rhun and Manfred and given them the codicil—though he could not imagine his own life would have been spared, if that had been the case.
All day, as they rode along, he tried to figure out a way to speak with Robert. The prospects seemed slim, for Gallard or the other man, a knight named Cloyce de Clarendon, were always beside him, maintaining the illusion of benign regard but ready to intervene if he put one foot wrong.
It must be something subtle, then—or as subtle as Cathan could manage, with his thinking fogged and his physical reflexes slowed, though at least they had not bled him again. He decided that if Robert _had_ been to Rhemuth and returned—as was most likely, when Cathan was not feeling paranoid—he probably had delivered the missive through Rhysel. And if the Deryni Rhysel had been the contact, there was a fair chance that she had set some return message in Robert's mind for Cathan's reading—perhaps instructions and guidance, though she probably would not have known yet of Rhysem's death.
But how to gain access to the young knight? Since Robert was not Deryni, and Cathan only a very weak one, even when in full command of his faculties, he could only Read such a message through physical contact. But how was Robert going to get past Cathan's ever-vigilant minders?
Cathan decided he was going to have to create his own opportunity and trust that Robert would recognize it and follow through. He watched for his chance all through the afternoon, the while continuing to feign listlessness and fatigue and even nodding off in the saddle, but he did not once even see Robert again. Not until they were splashing through the sandy shallows of a wide ford across the Eirian, approaching the _Custodes_ House that was their destination for the night, did a ghost of a chance present itself.
It was not much of an opportunity, and if Robert was not trying to get to _him_ , it was not going to work, but it was worth a try. The day was warm; a dunking would do no harm.
For Robert and another young knight were spurring casually forward along the line to make some inquiry of an officer just beyond Cathan, who was already turning in his saddle in response to Robert's hail. Cathan waited until the two were nearly abreast of him and his minders, slumped heavy-lidded in his saddle—and let himself topple soundlessly over the side closer to the pair, which was also the side away from Gallard, who was more likely to be alert than Cloyce.
Gallard gave a shout as Cathan tumbled, but it was too late for Cloyce de Clarendon to catch him. The startled _Custodes_ knight caught enough of a handful of tunic to slow his charge's fall, but keeping hold would have dragged him off, too, and Cathan was already hitting the water.
Cathan started flailing weakly as he briefly sank beneath the surface, glad he was only wearing riding leathers and the water was only knee-deep on the horses. To his relief, Robert Ainslie was off his horse and dragging his head above the water before he could even worry about being stepped on or kicked or possibly drowned.
"Easy, my lord," Robert murmured, as Cathan struggled to a sitting position with his help and started coughing, affecting grogginess and disorientation. In that same instant, Cathan had almost the impression that Robert himself, who was not Deryni, had willed him to Read. The message came through in a burst of crystal clarity—reassurance from Rhysel and tight-focused instructions that he would have to examine later, when Gallard de Breffni stopped yanking him out of Robert's grasp.
"I've got him!" Gallard snapped, as Cathan murmured, "Sorry, I nodded off." "Leave him to me. He hasn't been sleeping well since the king's death. Just help get him back on his horse."
Apparently taking Gallard at his word, as Cathan continued to murmur embarrassed protestations of apology, Robert gave a hand getting the queen's brother back up onto his mount. The further contact gave Cathan opportunity to send the gist of what had been done to him while Robert was away. Both compassion and determination showed on the young knight's face as he handed up the reins, but he turned away and sprang back onto his own horse without a word as Gallard also remounted.
Despite the mildness of the summer evening, Cathan could feel himself starting to shiver, as much from after-reaction as from any real chill, and he gratefully drew close the dry cloak Cloyce laid around his shoulders. His leathers were already getting clammy. As they carried on toward the abbey gates ahead, he wondered whether he could get out of the usual vigil beside Rhysem's coffin that night. He thought Rhysem would not mind; and with his medication mostly worn off, he was not certain he could contain his relief at the news Robert had given him.
That the codicil was delivered was greatly reassuring; that the Kheldour lords were on their way was news more welcome yet. And that at least one further ally was already with the royal party was most personally reassuring of all.
Later that evening, when duties at last released him, Sir Robert Ainslie casually made his way to the tent of a handful of borderers who had joined his father's party a few days before his arrival. Their leader had sought him out that morning and given him new instructions.
"I was wondering when you'd get here," Jesse MacGregor said, beckoning Robert across the bodies of several sleeping men to a space beside the stool where he was sitting, cleaning a boot by lantern-light. "I'm glad it wasn't cold. I take it you did make contact?"
"Aye."
"All right, sit yourself down and let's see whether he was able to send anything back. The others won't stir."
He set the boot aside as Robert settled gingerly, patting his knee to invite the younger man to lean against it. As strong hands drew Robert back, thumbs slipping upward into the curly brown hair, time seemed to pause. When Robert next became aware of anything, the Deryni was breathing out a long sigh, his hands kneading gently once at his tight shoulder muscles and then releasing him. Robert felt revitalized, though he knew he would sleep heavily when he shortly sought his bedroll.
"You did that very well," Jesse murmured. "He did _his_ part very well, despite what he's been through."
Robert nodded. "I was surprised at that myself."
"He's alive, though, and that's what's most important for now," Jesse whispered, shifting his gaze into the lantern flame. "We'll be in Rhemuth in a few more days, and God willing, the Kheldour lords will be there shortly after that. Once that happens, I have a feeling things are going to move very quickly indeed, for better or for worse." He glanced at Robert. "Are you afraid?"
"I'd be mad not to be," Robert admitted, nodding. "But that isn't going to stop me from doing what must be done."
Jesse smiled. "Good man. You've been more help man you know. For now, stay close and watch for any chance to gain some kind of regular access to Cathan. I'll let you know what happens next. You'd better go and sleep now, though."
When the younger man had gone, Jesse extinguished the lantern and lay back on his pallet, soon imparting his night's report to Joram, who was waiting to add this most current piece of the puzzle to the master picture building in a Michaeline war room, deep within the stronghold that had housed him and his renegade band of Deryni for nearly a decade now.
_You can't get to Cathan yourself?_ Joram asked.
_I don't see how. But at least I think we'll get him to Rhemuth alive. What's the word on the Kheldour lords?_
_On their way_ , came the answer. _They shouldn't be more than two or three days behind you_.
In Rhemuth, at that same hour, what remained of Gwynedd's royal council was about to receive the latest news to arrive from the returning expeditionary force. Archbishop Hubert had been dining privately with Tammaron, Richard, and Secorim in the withdrawing room behind the dais of the great hall. Earlier, Hubert had presided at Archbishop Oriss' funeral rites, with all the Court in attendance—an affair that stretched well into the afternoon, by the time they laid Oriss' body to rest with his predecessors' in the episcopal crypt beneath the high altar.
As they lingered over wine and sweetmeats, rehashing the significance of the day's events, Tammaron and Richard still wore the deep mourning of earlier in the day; Secorim was always clad in funereal _Custodes_ black, and Hubert had put aside the usual robes of his rank in favor of a plain black cassock, retaining episcopal purple only in the broad cincture bound around his ample girth—and in the episcopal ring and the amethysts studding the jeweled pectoral cross suspended at his breast.
One pudgy hand darted to that cross as a guard admitted a haggard-looking messenger wearing Culdi livery—Sir Rondel, Lord Manfred's own principal aide. Rondel pulled off his gloves as he came to kneel and kiss Hubert's ring and remained kneeling and with head bowed until the door had closed behind him. Hubert saw that his hands were shaking.
"Is my brother dead?" Hubert asked quietly.
Rondel shook his head, only then daring to look up.
"No, your Grace. Lord Manfred is well. I—regret to inform you that the king has died—"
"What?"
"When? Where?"
"Let him finish!" Hubert snapped, holding up a hand for their silence. "Out with it, man. How came this to be?"
"At—at Saint Ostrythe's Convent, near Ebor, some three days ago," Rondel stammered, daring to look up. "He took a raging fever. His—hand became badly infected and had to be amputated. Unfortunately, he did not survive the surgery."
The stunned buzz of their comment died away as Hubert slowly crossed himself, his rosy face gone ashen, the tiny lips trembling.
"You—have further details of this?" he whispered, after a few seconds.
"I do, your Grace." He got to his feet, his composure returning. "Might I suggest, however, that this company first retire to the council chamber?" He touched a hand to his breast. "I have further information to convey to your Lordships, but my Lord Manfred suggested that its sensitive nature recommends the utmost in discretion."
Stunned to silence by his implications and the stark unexpectedness of his news, they retired immediately to the more secure council chamber, ordered by Hubert to say nothing en route. Secorim set _Custodes_ guards outside the double doors as servants lit candles and torches in the room and then departed. As they took their customary places around the long table, Hubert and Secorim on one side, Tammaron and Richard on the other, Hubert reflected that there were not nearly enough of them—especially not if, as the king had threatened, there really was a codicil that broke his most recent will and named Kheldour appointees to what had just become a council of regency.
But not everyone at the table knew about the codicil—Secorim did not—and until Hubert knew the circumstances of the king's death, he was not going to raise the issue. By the light of a candelabrum set at the end of the table where they huddled, he held out his hand to Sir Rondel, seated in Manfred's customary spot three places to the right. Impassive and silent, Rondel passed a sealed packet across Father Secorim, directly to Hubert. Hubert broke the seals and scanned over the text—written in Manfred's crabbed hand but also signed and sealed by Rhun—then passed it over to Tammaron, who pulled the candelabrum closer and began to read aloud.
"'Manfred MacInnis unto his brother and Father in God, Hubert, Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd; and also unto Earl Tammaron Fitz-Arthur, Chancellor of Gwynedd, and Richard Murdoch, Acting Constable, Greetings.'"
Not having read Secorim's name among the addressees, Tammaron glanced at Hubert, who gestured with a hand for him to continue.
"'I regret to report the death this afternoon of our sovereign lord, King Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, who succumbed to his injuries at about the hour of three after an illness bravely fought. His Highness had received the final sacraments and died peacefully, his weakened body being unable to survive necessary surgery.
"'His Highness' body will be brought back to Rhemuth by stages, departing Saint Ostrythe's Convent tomorrow morning. We estimate arrival in Rhemuth on or about the third of July. Owing to the season, I recommend a short lying-in-state, with funeral to follow on the fifth of July.
"'Given at Saint Ostrythe's Convent, this twenty-eighth day of June, in the Year of Our Lord Nine Hundred Twenty-Eight, under our hands and seals: Manfred, Vice-Marshal and Regent; Rhun, Earl Marshal and Regent.'"
Tammaron looked up when he had finished reading, glancing at Hubert and then back at Rondel.
"I had hoped for more detail," he said a little pettishly. "Sir Rondel, would you be so good as to elucidate?"
Rondel lowered his eyes. "I have been told to be brutally frank, my lords. You are aware of the alleged codicil to the king's will?"
As Tammaron and Richard nodded, Hubert said to Secorim, "The king claims to have written a codicil to his will while in Eastmarch, appointing the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley as regents in the event of his death. Several copies, duly signed and witnessed, are said to exist. Sir Rondel, am I to take it from your comment that you do not believe there ever was a codicil?"
Rondel met Hubert's gaze coolly, not flinching.
"I do not, your Grace. What is more, my Lord Manfred does not believe it exists."
"But Rhun believes it exists," Tammaron said.
"That's as may be." Rondel looked decidedly uncomfortable. "My lord, I am bound to tell you this, because my Lord Rhun will tell you anyway, when he and Lord Manfred reach Rhemuth. There was a—difference of opinion in the choice of treatment for the king's injury. Before even leaving Lochalyn Castle, he developed a heavy fever. Master Stevanus, the battle surgeon attending the king, had allowed the use of a Deryni drug to reduce it, given by the chatelaine of Lochalyn, but the infirmarian at Saint Cassian's withdrew the Deryni drug and recommended cautery and bleeding to release the evil humours, both of which the king refused. That was when he informed Lord Rhun of the existence of the so-called codicil."
"Are you suggesting that the king invented this story to avoid receiving unpleasant but necessary treatment?" Hubert asked.
Rondel inclined his head. "So your brother believed, your Grace. He was also furious that the king would dare to use the threat of a codicil to defy himself and Lord Rhun. When the king's condition continued to deteriorate, Lord Manfred decided to allow the bloodletting recommended by Brother Polidorus. The official story—which will be borne out by the condition of the body—is that the king's hand had to be amputated, and he did not survive this surgery."
"And what is the _true_ story?" Tammaron whispered, suddenly gone white.
Rondel swallowed and looked very uneasy. "If you later confront me on this, my lord, I will deny I ever said it. The king's fever had worsened to the point that convulsions halted our journey. Brother Polidorus again recommended bleeding to release the ill humours, and this time Lord Manfred allowed it."
"And did the king agree to this kind of treatment?" Hubert asked sharply.
"It was for his own good—"
" _Did he agree?_ " Hubert repeated. "More specifically, was force employed?"
Rondel flicked his gaze to his hands, clasped rigid on the table before him.
"It was only really necessary the first time," he whispered. "The _Custodes_ men held him."
"I see." Hubert studied the knight without blinking, glanced casually at the ashen-faced Secorim, then returned his gaze to Rondel.
"Father Secorim is a priest of the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ , Sir Rondel. Are you aware of a _Custodes_ discipline called minution?"
Rondel swallowed. "I am, your Grace."
"Then you are also aware that it is a very specialized form of bloodletting, with both physical and spiritual benefits. Occasionally, in very special cases, a form of minution is administered in lieu of the coup de grâce. Isn't that right, Richard? Please tell Sir Rondel how your father received the coup."
"Lord Rhun and a _Custodes_ surgeon opened his veins," Richard whispered, his eyes wide and frightened.
"Rondel, is that what happened to the king?" Hubert asked.
"It wasn't the coup," Rondel whispered. "They meant to release the ill humours causing the fever."
"And how many times was the king bled?" Hubert persisted. "Do you know?"
"I was only present the first time, your Grace."
" _How many times?_ "
"F-four, I think."
"And over what period of time?" Hubert said more gently.
"Less than a day."
"I see. And after he eventually succumbed to this entirely benevolent treatment, his hand was cut off to support a more acceptable medical explanation."
"He was already very weak!" Rondel blurted. "Even if he hadn't been bled, he might not have survived the surgery. It little matters now."
"It matters if the story of the codicil is true!" Hubert snapped. "And my dear, impulsive brother dared to wager that it is not! Dear God, Manfred, you always were pigheaded!"
"Your Grace, the king's defiance could not be tolerated!" Rondel said. "What matters it if a fatal blood loss came _before_ the amputation of his hand rather than because of it? 'Twill be a new regency now."
"Pray God it will not be far newer than any of us bargained for," Tammaron muttered. "Why did Rhun do nothing to stop this? He surely realized what Manfred really intended. From his earlier letter, I'd have sworn he was convinced the codicil was real."
Rondel drew a deep breath and let it out. "The—ah—two gentlemen quarreled on this point, my lord. After the king's collapse, the _Custodes_ physician again pressed for bleeding as the best course of treatment, and Lord Manfred finally agreed. Lord Rhun was—under the influence of _merasha_ when the order was given to proceed. I believe he later conceded that Manfred had acted correctly."
"For all our sakes, I hope he did," Hubert said, folding his hands before him to tap his thumbs against rosebud lips. "In this case, however, I would have been inclined to let nature take its course. But it's done now. How many know the particulars in this matter?"
Rondel's gaze flicked nervously to the table. "Other than those in this room—Lords Manfred and Rhun, Sir Cathan, Sir Fulk. The rest were _Custodes_ men, lay and vowed, including Brother Polidorus, the physician who carried out the treatment, and the battle surgeon Stevanus, who refused to have any part of it. Those considered to be risks have been dealt with."
"Where is my son?" Tammaron said evenly.
"Oh, safe, my lord, never fear," Rondel assured him. "He was sent next morning to Cassan, under heavy guard. Lord Manfred trusts you'll put in a word to make certain he holds his tongue. The battle surgeon Stevanus and those _Custodes_ men deemed less than trustworthy in this regard were to be sent on to the _Custodes_ abbey at Ramos, whence I believe it's intended they shall not depart. Out of deference to your Grace's regard for Lord Cathan and his calming influence on the queen, he travels well sedated with the king's funeral cortege, having himself been weakened by bleeding, to make it clear what must be his fate if he does not cooperate. I trust these arrangements meet with your satisfaction, your Grace? My lords?"
Hubert nodded slowly, already adjusting to the new parameters his brother had placed on the situation by his rash action.
"Yes, they do," he murmured. "If, indeed, the codicil does not exist, Manfred has done what probably ought to have been done some time ago. The story will hold, I think." He glanced at Secorim, who was the newest member of their conspiracy. "Are you able to deal with this, Secorim? If not, just say the word, and I shall post you off to some remote abbey where you can live out your life in peace, so long as you keep _your_ peace."
It was a lie, of course, for he would have Secorim killed here and now if he showed any sign of wavering; but though obviously shaken by what he had just heard, the _Custodes_ archbishop-designate did not flicker an eyelash as he gravely nodded.
"I have given you my vow of obedience, your Grace," he murmured. "I am greatly saddened to hear of the king's unfortunate demise. Clearly, he had the best of care."
Hubert allowed himself a faint, sly smile. "I think my new Archbishop of Rhemuth and I shall get on very well," he said. "But enough of this. We now are regents for a very young new king. It's late to roust him from his bed, but the mother should be told, I think—gently, lest her grief dislodge the babe she carries—and with a physician there to give her a soothing potion. After a night's sleep, she should be past the worst of the shock and reasonably able to accompany us to the boy's chamber in the morning. Meanwhile, I shall post extra guards outside his apartments, but the news of the king's death is to be suppressed until tomorrow. Are we all agreed?"
At their nods, he rose.
"Very well, then. Tammaron, please fetch Master James and have him prepare a sleeping draught for her Highness."
A short while later, as Rhysel brushed out the queen's hair in preparation for retiring, Archbishop Hubert came with one of the Court physicians to inform the queen that her husband was dead. Rhysel guessed their mission as they came into the room and held tightly to the queen's hand as she rose to receive them—and knew that the queen guessed, even before Hubert opened his mouth. Michaela blanched and sat back down again, covering her face with the hand Rhysel was not holding, and Rhysel damped the pain as the inexorable words conveyed their dread message.
"It is not believed that he suffered greatly, my lady," Hubert said quietly. "He simply was not strong enough to survive the surgery. I am very sorry. I've had Master James prepare you a sleeping draught. I strongly recommend that you drink it—for the sake of the child you carry, if not for your own. In the morning, if you wish, I—shall allow you to inform young Owain. He is king now, of course, and there are proclamations to be drafted, ceremonies to be performed, but I believe there is no need to wake him at this hour."
As Michaela managed a jerky nod, saying nothing, Rhysel took the cup from the court physician and set it in the queen's hand, urging her to drink. The queen obeyed without demur and numbly allowed herself to be put to bed. A quarter hour later she had escaped into sleep. The tears would come with the morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
His sons come to honour, and he knoweth it not.
—Job 14:21
Michaela woke to the slow, leaden tolling of church bells and a dull ache of heart that knew for whom they tolled. Rhysel lay beside her, fully clothed, faithful guardian through the night. The younger woman sat up as Michaela stirred, gently setting a hand on her wrist.
"Mika, you must be strong," she whispered.
Michaela drew a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, grateful for the human intimacy of the other's mere presence at such a time.
"I feel numb inside," she replied. "I know he's gone, but I can hardly feel it. Is that your doing?"
Gravely Rhysel nodded.
"You have a child on the way and another who will need you today, especially. I have never lost a husband, but I was seven when my father died." She gave a wan smile. "When I learned of it, I had only my grief to contend with, devastating though that was. I did not become a king as well."
Michaela could feel tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them back and sniffled resolutely, wiping her free hand across her eyes as she sat up.
"I'll be all right," she whispered. "You'd better help me dress. I want to be ready when they let me go to Owain. You don't think he'll have guessed, from the bells?"
Rhysel shook her head. "He's very young, and there have been ample bells these past few days."
Half an hour later, dressed in deepest mourning, Michaela sat waiting among her black-clad ladies in the shade of the solar, eyes downcast, turning Rhysem's marriage ring on her finger. She would have preferred to go to her son informally, with her hair tumbled loose and free the way he liked it, but protocol required otherwise of queens, especially on such a day. Under Lady Estellan's tight-lipped direction, Rhysel had been obliged to scrape back the queen's wheaten mane in a tight knot before covering it with the mandatory widow's coif and veil. Michaela made no protest to this, but stubbornly declined the prescribed jeweled diadem in favor of a light circlet of gold and silver roses—because that was Owain's favorite.
The waiting now began. While Michaela's women sat murmuring prayers all around her, Rhysel settled quietly at her feet, her head resting lightly against the queen's knee as she continued to urge calm and serenity—for she would not be allowed to accompany the queen to the new little king's apartments.
A knock at an outer door brought Rhysel to her feet and set Lady Estellan hurrying to answer it. Shortly she returned with the queen's two visitors of the night before, plus Tammaron, Richard Murdoch, and Father Secorim. As the archbishop and Secorim bowed, somber and correct in their ecclesiastical robes, the physician hung back to study his royal patient. Tammaron and Richard came to kneel and kiss the queen's hand.
"Your Highness, our condolences this morning come on behalf of the Regency Council," Hubert said. "Did your Highness spend a quiet night?"
"I am well enough, your Grace," she said, not meeting his gaze. "May I see my son now?"
"If Master James feels you are strong enough."
Michaela sighed as the physician silently came to clasp her wrist. After a moment he released her and lightly felt her forehead.
"Her pulse is steady, your Grace. She seems composed enough, but this will be a difficult day. Your Highness, may I recommend something to ease you? Nothing as strong as last night. I know you would have your wits about you when you speak to the King's Grace."
"I thank you, no, Master James," she said, rising purposefully. "Your Grace, I would go now to my son."
Only Tammaron's wife, Lady Nieve, was allowed to accompany her as the regents escorted her to the nursery apartments occupied by the young prince. All of them remained in an adjoining anteroom as the queen went on into the prince's solar, where he had been lining up toy knights on the floor of a window embrasure. His little tunic of Haldane crimson was a bright splash of color against the whitewashed stone. A sad-eyed governess had been supervising his play, but withdrew immediately at Michaela's appearance, only pausing to bob her a sympathetic curtsey.
"Good morning, my love," Michaela called, smiling and holding her arms out to Owain as he scrambled to his feet with a crow of delight and ran to embrace her around the knees.
"Mummy! Come and see my knights! There's one that looks like Papa. He's going to fight the bad prince who wants to take away his crown."
Fighting back her grief, smiling despite it as she bent to kiss him, she let him lead her back to the window embrasure, where she sank down on the step to let him point out his favorites. There was, indeed, a knight on a white horse that looked something like Rhysem, with a tiny gold lion painted on his crimson shield and a little crown on his helm. Cathan had made them for Owain the previous winter, and they were rather larger than the usual sort, standing halfway to the boy's knees. Another knight on a grey carried a miniature Haldane banner.
"That's Uncle Cathan," Owain said, pointing him out, "and there's the bad prince. He keeps falling down."
She looked beyond the royal forces at a motley array of smaller figures painted in the tawny and black and white of Torenth, one of which had fallen over. Stiffening her resolve, Michaela held out her arms to Owain again.
"Darling, come and sit on Mummy's lap, would you? I have something to tell you."
Owain looked at her curiously and picked up the figures of his father and Cathan before coming to climb down a step and then ease onto her lap, settling a little uneasily as he twisted around to watch her. She hugged him close for a moment, pressing a kiss to the tousle of black, sweet-smelling hair, then reached around him to gently stroke a fingertip across the crown on the figure of the king.
"Darling, something very sad has happened to your papa. He hurt his hand, and it made him very sick. His doctors tried very hard to make him better, but he—"
"Papa's sick?" Owain whispered, his little face going still and anxious.
Michaela shook her head, blinking back tears. "Not anymore, my darling," she whispered. "Your papa is with the angels now. His hurt hand made him very, very, ill, so—the angels have taken him to be with God."
"With—God?" the boy repeated, bewildered.
"Your papa has died, my love. He's gone to Heaven, to be with God."
"No!" Owain said flatly. "My papa can't be dead."
"Oh, darling, I wish it weren't true—you know I do. But it is. It's very, very sad, but—"
"Who hurted my papa's hand?" Owain demanded, anger flashing in the grey Haldane eyes as tears began to well. "Did the bad prince hurt my papa?"
"I—don't know exactly, darling," she heard herself saying. "We'll know more when..."
She let her voice trail away as he collapsed weeping in her arms, sobbing his little heart out, the toy knights still clutched in both hands. She wept with him, letting fall the tears she had denied herself the night before but aware, in some deep recess of dispassionate logic, that her grief was tempered still by the discipline Rhysel had imposed, lest the shock do harm to the other life she carried. She felt it as a profound sadness that might well persist until her dying day, but not a life-shattering sorrow that might keep her from her duty.
As Owain gradually subsided to hiccoughs and moist sniffling, huddled down in her lap, Michaela also mastered her tears. Pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, she wiped her eyes and composed herself, then produced another one to blot away her son's tears.
"Can you blow for me?" she whispered.
He complied, but he would not let go of the toy knights in his hands. Still sniffling, he squirmed around to turn tear-reddened eyes to hers.
"Mummy, I have a question," he said tremulously.
"Yes, darling?"
"Did the bad prince take away my papa's crown?"
She smiled gently and brushed the hair off his forehead as she shook her head. "No, my darling, he did not. Your papa left his crown for you. And no one shall ever, _ever_ take it away from you—I promise."
Owain looked doubtful. "But I'm only little, Mummy. What if the bad prince comes?"
"The bad prince is dead, my love," she whispered, wishing the other "bad prince" were dead as well. "He can't come and take your crown. And you shall grow up to be a very brave and wise and powerful king, the way your papa wanted."
"I'll be king like Papa?"
"You will, my darling. And until you're big like Papa, there will be wise men to help you learn how to be a king."
Owain sighed. "More lessons."
"I'm afraid so," Michaela said with an amused chuckle. "For many, many years. But for now, I think you should have your first lesson today in being a proper king. The archbishop and some of the other great lords are waiting outside to see you. Now that you're king, there are some things they have to do and some words they have to say. Do you think you could be a very brave boy for me and make Papa proud in Heaven?"
"What I have to do?" he asked suspiciously.
"Just be very polite and answer when you're spoken to. There will be quite a lot of bowing, and after they've said some words, they'll want to come and kiss your hand, the way you've seen them do for me and for Papa. That's their way of showing you that they know you're the king now. Would that be all right?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Can I take my knights?"
"Well—how about just the one of Papa? And you must hold him like this, with your left hand, so they can kiss the other one. We'll let Uncle Cathan stay here to see that the other ones behave—all right?"
"All right."
"Now, hold out your hand the way you've seen Papa do, so that I can rest my hand on yours while we go into the next room. That's right." She rose and laid her left hand on his right: "Now, you are the king, and I am your lady, and we must be very dignified as we go to meet your great lords."
She could tell that Hubert was pleased, when it was over. Little Owain escorted her into the next room with four-year-old dignity, accepting their bows as his due, and waited for another chair to be brought for his mother before he would sit on the one they had provided for him. After that, while Earl Tammaron read out the proclamation of accession, Owain sat quietly, tightly hugging his toy knight, then gravely allowed each of them to kiss his hand. He came close to tears when Hubert briefly slipped his father's Ring of Fire on his left hand, bewildered and a bit distressed because it was far too big, but he brightened when Lady Nieve produced a sturdy gold chain from which to suspend it around his neck.
His exemplary behavior earned his mother the privilege of taking him back to her own apartments for the rest of the day. Secorim was dubious at first, being but recently apprised of the nature of the late king's tense relationship with his great lords, but Tammaron argued as the father of four sons that a child's place at a time like this was with his mother, king or no king. Even the usually hard-hearted Richard, whose son was a year older than Owain, had to agree that the young king ought not to be kept from his mother, at least until after the two very emotion-laden events still to come—the return of the late king's body to Rhemuth, with its reception on the cathedral steps, and the state funeral to follow. Hubert concurred.
Thanking God for this small mercy, Michaela let them escort her and Owain back to the royal apartments, herself bringing the Uncle Cathan knight so that Owain could carry the Papa knight and still cling tightly to her hand. As soon as she and Owain had reached the sanctuary of her solar, she divested herself of coronet and veils and bade Rhysel loose her hair, letting it tumble around her shoulders the way Owain liked it as she bent to give him another hug.
As they retreated to the bedchamber beyond, she found that Lady Estellan and the other ladies had set out a light lunch—much appreciated, for Michaela had not had the stomach to eat anything earlier. She still could not bring herself to eat very much, but young Owain tucked in with surprisingly good appetite, making sure that Papa, Uncle Cathan, and their horses all had portions of bread and cheese set before them. After he had eaten his fill, Rhysel helped his mother pull off the crimson tunic and shoes and bed down the little king for an afternoon nap. When the other ladies had gone out, all solicitude and sympathetic tongue-cluckings for the brave little prince, Rhysel bade the queen lie down, too.
"You need the rest as much as he does," she whispered, as she helped the queen remove her outer robe and lie down in her shift. "And don't worry about telling me anything; I'll Read it while you sleep and then see how the king fares as well, underneath his show of bravery."
The respite into sleep was welcome and left several fewer hours of the afternoon to be endured, when she awoke. Owain's governess and a page had brought the rest of his beloved knights and a very small black tunic while they napped, and Michaela sat silently watching him until suppertime, as he took the knights out of their wicker basket and improvised an ambush for the bad prince from behind a hillock made of her shoes. Both his concentration and the black tunic were all too sober for so young a child, but she knew they were but the least of things he would have to bear all too young.
A bath was brought after supper, and Michaela gladly bent to the task of bathing him herself—something she had not been allowed to do for some time. Afterward, when he was asleep, tucked clean and sweet-smelling into the bed she lately had shared with his father, she knelt beside him and stroked the raven hair and prayed for his life. There was another child beneath her heart, but this one was the one who would have to bear up under whatever the regents tried in the days and weeks and years to come. Far too soon, he would be asked to follow in his father's footsteps and take up at least the promise of his Haldane heritage.
And tomorrow, he must watch his father's body brought back to Rhemuth in a coffin. Hubert had come after supper to tell her that the cortege would arrive sometime after noon. The news set a further blight on what remained of the evening, and she was glad to retire early and let Rhysel take her deep into undreaming sleep.
An update the next morning, after breakfast, indicated that the procession probably would not reach the cathedral much before three. Already dressed in her widow's weeds but with hair still flowing loose for Owain's sake, Michaela spent the morning gazing out the window at the gardens below, while Owain played at her feet with his knights, the Ring of Fire and its golden chain a bright contrast against his funereal black. After lunch, she let Rhysel do up her hair and donned her widow's veil and the State Crown, with its crosses and leaves intertwined.
Tammaron and Richard came to fetch them at two—an easy enough escort as far as the great hall, for Owain knew both of them. But as the royal party emerged on the great hall steps, great lords and bereaved queen and wide-eyed boy clutching a toy knight under one arm, a _Custodes_ guard of honor came to attention with such clashing of weapons and stamping of feet that young Owain faltered, burying his face in his mother's skirts.
"There, now, my darling," Michaela whispered, bending down to comfort him as Earl Tammaron indicated they should proceed to the canopied sedan-chair waiting at the bottom of the steps. "Those men are doing you honor. Many men will do you honor today. Do you remember how the great lords kissed your hand yesterday?"
He nodded tremulously.
"Well, soldiers show their respect by clashing their weapons like that, because that is how they serve you—with their strength of arms. Now, hold your head up and take Mummy's hand the way you did yesterday. Why, I do believe we're meant to ride in one of the archbishop's rather splendid sedan-chairs. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to travel in one of those? I know I have."
Thus reassured, he did as she bade, gravely taking her down the steps and handing her into the sedan-chair with the aplomb of a courtier many times his age. He was rather less dignified as Tammaron lifted him up beside her, once she had settled her skirts and made space for him.
"It's high," he whispered, as he settled the Papa knight more securely under his arm and held on with his other hand.
"A little," she conceded. "But think how well you'll be able to see."
The ride down to the cathedral started out bumpy, but it gradually settled to a gentle side-to-side motion as the horses fell into step. As constable of the castle, Richard rode before them with a mounted guard of his own men in Carthane livery. Tammaron rode on Owain's side, with Sir Rondel on Michaela's; _Custodes_ knights followed behind. All along the way, silent crowds had gathered to watch their passage, the men doffing their hats as the little king passed by, many of the women weeping to see him come so young to his throne.
When they alighted at the cathedral steps, Archbishop Hubert was there to receive them, along with Bishop Alfred, who should have been the next Archbishop of Rhemuth, and Abbot Secorim, who would actually have the position. A bevy of additional clergy and choristers also waited with torches and incense and a huge, jeweled processional cross, but Hubert came and led the two of them inside, out of the sun, to wait in the cool of the baptistery near the rear doors until the expected cortege should actually come into sight. The cathedral was well filled with richly dressed men and women, and Owain peered out at them with interest through the brass-latticed baptistery gate when Hubert had gone back out.
"Mummy, have all these people come to honor Papa?" he whispered.
"I do believe they have," she replied. _And also to see this child who will be their new king_ , she thought to herself, pitying him anew—and herself. "Why don't you sit here very quietly beside me while we wait for the archbishop to come back? Shall we say a prayer for Papa?"
They had finished several prayers, and Owain had taken to prancing his knight along the edge of the fount, when Lord Tammaron came to fetch them.
"It's time, your Highness," he murmured, as the _Custodes_ guards outside the gate clashed to attention. "Sire, will you come this way, please?"
A little stiffly, Owain lifted his chin and held out his arm for his mother's hand, gravely conveying her after Tammaron, who had to bite at his lip to keep from showing his emotion. The choristers had begun intoning a Latin hymn, and as Michaela and her son emerged into the sunlight, she could see the procession approaching the cathedral steps. Her brother Cathan was among the lead riders, Rhun and Manfred to either side; and beyond them, escorted by _Custodes_ knights and preceded by a processional cross and Rhysem's banner, was the horse-borne bier that bore his black-draped coffin. She could see the sunlight glinting off the sword and crown fastened atop it, and tears blurred her vision as she held tightly to her son's hand and watched it draw near.
The lead riders were dismounting, Rhun and Manfred coming up the steps with Cathan and a pair of _Custodes_ knights behind them. Her brother looked dreadful, pale and much thinner than when he had left, but at least he had come back.
She shifted her gaze to Rhun and Manfred, armored and full of their own self-importance as they came to kneel at Owain's feet and kiss his small hand, rising then to give Tammaron quiet greeting before withdrawing to either side for Cathan to make his salute. Cathan managed a reassuring smile for his young nephew as he bent over the boy's hand, but as he rose to embrace his sister lightly and kiss her on both cheeks, she saw that his eyes were dilated even in the bright sunlight.
Drugged, then; that explained his appearance and the lethargy that blurred his grace as he moved around to her other side, one hand lightly keeping balance against Owain's shoulder. She knew the signs well, from those years ago with Rhysem. She slipped her arm into his for reassurance and comfort, but he did not admit her to his thoughts, only gazing numbly at Rhysem's coffin as the horse-litter came to a halt and strong men began lifting it down.
Tears welling in her eyes, Michaela watched the priests begin to cense her husband's coffin and sprinkle it with holy water and heard the words that Hubert sang as he invoked the saints of God and the angels of the Lord to come to Rhysem's aid, presenting his soul before the sight of the Most High.
" _Suscipiat te Christus, qui vocavit te..._ " Hubert sang. May you be received by Christ, Who has called you: and may the angels bring you into the bosom of Abraham.
_They did, you know_ , came Cathan's thought in her mind, as he shifted her hand into his hand for comfort. _The angels came_ — _archangels, actually_ — _the same as came the night he received his power. Dom Queron called them. I know he's at peace, Mika_.
" _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine_ ," Hubert sang, " _et lux perpetua luceat ei._ "
" _Offerentes earn in conspectu Altissimi_..."
Both stunned and cheered by his message, her vision blurred by tears, Michaela somehow managed to get through the rest of the ceremony, numbly following her husband's coffin into the hushed cathedral, Owain clinging to her left hand and Cathan supporting her on her right. The great lords served as his pallbearers: Tammaron, Manfred, Rhun, Richard—and Lord Ainslie and Sir Rondel to round out the numbers, since Hubert and Secorim were otherwise occupied. Clouds of incense followed them down an aisle that seemed far, far longer than it had the many other times Michaela had walked it. The most joyful had been to repeat her marriage vows to the man whose coffin she now followed; the most difficult before now, to follow him to his coronation, knowing that he must make vows before God that they would never allow him to keep.
The choir offered up a hymn promising resurrection and salvation as the great lords gently set the coffin on the catafalque prepared for it and then moved the funeral candles into place: thick, bright-burning yellow brands set in six tall silver candlesticks, three on a side. Hubert offered more prayers as the pallbearers came to kneel behind the queen and the little king, and he sprinkled and censed the coffin again, sending up more clouds of sweet-smelling smoke that made Owain sneeze. At some point, Tammaron and Rhun brought the State Crown and sceptre from the altar, Rhun laying the wand of gold-embellished ivory close beside the Haldane sword and Tammaron exchanging the state crown for the simpler circlet that had traveled with the king from Eastmarch. The latter he brought to the queen, presenting it on bended knee.
She thanked him softly as she clasped it to her breast, kneeling dutifully with Owain and Cathan at the head of the coffin while the prayers droned on and on, the pious responses murmuring from the congregation kneeling behind them. Only with Rhysem's circlet in her hands, the one she once had set in place on his helm, did she truly begin to accept that he was dead. Not the eternal part of him, of course, which Cathan assured her had been taken up to God by archangels; but she still could mourn the human part of him, that lay in that oaken box, that nevermore would take her in his arms—and that other part, so recently glimpsed, that might have made of him so truly magnificent a king.
She was weeping quietly by the time it was over at last, but it was a sadness rather than an anguish. Tammaron approached her as the procession was forming up to go out, accompanied by a concerned Master James, but she assured both that she would be fine and let Cathan escort her and her son back up the aisle with the rest of the royal household. Blessedly, the curtains had been let down on the sedan-chair, so she and Owain were screened from prying eyes for the return to the castle. The curtains also muffled the sounds from outside, the hollow clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones and the faint murmur of the crowds still lining the streets.
"Mummy," Owain whispered a little later, as they lurched along and he snuggled close in the circle of her arms, hugging the Papa knight close. "Mummy, Papa wasn't really in that box—was he?"
She bit back a smile, wondering whether he could have caught some hint of her own soul-searching, back in the cathedral.
"No, my darling. His body was in there, but it's only an empty house now. His soul, the most important part of him, has gone to God."
He pulled back to glance down at his chest, then looked back up at her. "Is this my house, Mummy?"
"Yes."
"When—when I go to sleep, does my soul come out of my house?"
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to think of imagery that a four-year-old could understand and that would not frighten him.
"Some people say it can—but you mustn't be afraid of sleeping, darling. We always come back to our bodies until it's time for God to call us home. Some people think every person has a silver cord connecting the soul to the body. It's a magical cord that can stretch to the very ends of the earth—but it always brings us back when we're ready. When people get old, the cord starts to wear out, it starts to ravel. And eventually it goes all unraveled and lets the person go back to God."
"Papa wasn't old. What happened to his silver cord?"
"Well, sometimes, when we're very sick, or very badly hurt, the cord breaks. When that happens, angels come to carry the person to God. That's what happened to Papa. You can ask Uncle Cathan. He says he saw the angels."
"He did?" Owain's eyes got very wide and round. "He saw angels take away my papa?"
"You mustn't think they did it to be mean," she said hastily. 'It's the angels' job to guard us and keep us safe. But Papa's cord was already broken. His body had been very sick. That's why the angels came to take him to God."
"Oh."
Owain's momentary anger at marauding angels died away at that reassurance, and he subsided against her arm, apparently satisfied with the explanation, cradling the Papa knight close. He was asleep by the time the sedan-chair drew up before the great hall steps, and it was Cathan who drew back the curtains to gather the sleeping boy into his arms.
"Let him sleep," Cathan murmured, when Michaela would have protested that he himself was too weak for the exertion. "I can carry him. He isn't very heavy."
He was allowed this privilege, though clearly no privacy would accompany it. Manfred followed them up to the royal apartments, Tammaron trailing after. As soon as Cathan had deposited the boy in his mother's bed, Manfred crooked his finger at him from the doorway.
"May I have just a moment with my sister—please?" Cathan begged.
"That will have to wait. We're expected downstairs."
"Just a few seconds. I only want to give her a few of her husband's keepsakes."
"What keepsakes?" Manfred demanded, barging into the room with an uncomfortable-looking Tammaron following.
Trembling, for he feared he might not have another chance at this, Cathan hastily pulled a folded handkerchief from the pouch at his belt and fumbled out the Eye of Rom.
"This is part of the regalia of Gwynedd," he said, placing it in her hand. "You'll have to pierce his ear so he can wear it." _And do it, as soon as possible_ , he managed to send, while he briefly had contact with her.
She nodded numb agreement as she closed it in her hand and Manfred set a heavy hand on Cathan's sleeve.
"The Council requires your presence, Sir Cathan. Don't make me ask again."
Shrinking from the thought of what they might want him for, he pressed the Haldane brooch into his sister's hand, still partially wrapped in the handkerchief.
"He also wanted you to have—my lord, this is a private piece!" he added sharply, his hand blocking when Manfred would have reached for it. "It's only his cloak clasp. She had it made for him after the birth of Prince Owain! May she not keep this one remembrance of their love?"
"Manfred, leave it be," Tammaron said wearily. "Your Highness, I apologize for Lord Manfred. His manners obviously have worn thin from his journey. Manfred, the Council has certain questions it would like to put to you, as well as to Sir Cathan. Will you both please come with me, or must I call a guard?"
"Don't _you_ push me," Manfred muttered, as he turned on his heel to go. "Drummond, come along, or you haven't heard the last of this."
Head meekly dipping, Cathan let himself be herded toward the door. "If they'll let me, I'll try to come and have supper with you, Mika. God keep you, sweet sister."
"And you, dear brother," she whispered, as the door closed behind all three of them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Then the chief captain came near, and took him, and commanded him to be bound with two chains.
—Acts 21:33
The reckoning that awaited Cathan in the council chamber was both more and less than he had feared. Not unexpectedly, Richard was waiting just inside the door to demand his sword. Cathan could feel the hostile eyes upon him from the table beyond as he slowly unbuckled the belt and wrapped it around the scabbard before handing it over, using the time to assess his chances, wishing his head were a little clearer, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
Hubert was already seated in his customary place at the left side of the table, nearest the king's empty chair, with Lior to his right and Rhun next. After indicating that Cathan should sit at the foot of the table, where the queen normally would sit, Richard escorted Tammaron to the chair opposite Hubert and sat beside him, casually laying Cathan's sword on the table before him. Abbot Secorim was directly to Cathan's right, and Manfred huffed himself down in the empty place between Lior and Rhun.
"Manfred, we shall speak with you privately later about certain aspects of your actions during your absence," Hubert said without further preamble, shuffling a stack of papers in front of him, the amethyst on his hand glinting in the sunlight. "For now, I am far more concerned with the report that Lord Rhun sent us some days ago, staring that the late king claimed to have written an unauthorized codicil to his will, naming additional regents not sanctioned by this council. Father Lior believes this to be the draft of the codicil that the king showed to Rhun to substantiate his claim." He indicated the page before him. "Sir Cathan, I believe the hand is yours. Perhaps you would be so good as to shed some light on this subject."
Cathan bowed his head, aware that every word he said from here was likely to bring him that much closer to a death sentence. He supposed Lior had found the draft copy in the king's saddlebags, to which Cathan himself had not had access since the king's death.
Denying anything was pointless. The draft _was_ in his hand, as were all the executed copies—as they would discover, when the Kheldour lords arrived to try to enforce the codicil. He could not and would not change the truth about his part in helping the king produce and execute it; but if the great lords became too angry with him, too soon, he was a dead man.
"The codicil exists," he said quietly. "It was executed at Lochalyn Castle, before valid witnesses. The king was unable to write out the text with his injured hand, so he dictated it to me, and I made copies, as was my duty to him—to do as he commanded."
"And what about your duty to this council?" Hubert said sharply. "I seem to recall that the terms of your appointment to the king's household were such that your first loyalty was to your superiors on this council. You swore an oath on holy relics."
"And I swore another, more binding oath to my king," Cathan said boldly. "With my hands between his sacred hands, made holy at his anointing, I swore him faith and truth before all men, saving only my allegiance to God. In obeying his command, I kept that faith. I am not sorry."
"That has been clear for some time now," Manfred said. "How many copies of the codicil were executed?"
"Enough," Cathan dared to retort.
"Don't you play cheeky with me!" Manfred said. "How many?"
"One each for those named in the codicil, one for Lady Stacia, one for the priest who witnessed it, and one for the king," Cathan said evenly, for it could make no difference now whether they knew or not—and they would torture it out of him anyway, if he did not tell.
Lior cleared his throat. "Your Grace, we found no copy among the king's effects, other than the draft."
"What happened to the king's copy, Cathan?" Tammaron asked.
Cathan looked him in the eye. He was the most decent of the men seated at this table, but he was still one of them.
"The king had it sent ahead to Rhemuth, I don't know by whom or to whom." The first part was true, the rest a blatant lie—but plausible enough that they probably would not torture him to get another answer.
"That's impossible," Rhun muttered. "You must have known. _We_ would have known. Not that many of our men moved freely about the castle."
"With all due respect, my lord, it was not _your_ castle," Cathan said quietly, seizing on an ironclad explanation that would not implicate him. "Having just entrusted the regency of his young son to the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley, do you not think he could have enlisted their aid to smuggle out his copy of the document?"
As Rhun and Manfred stared at him dumbfounded, Hubert snorted and pulled the draft codicil back into his stack of papers, jogging the edges self-importantly as his hard blue gaze flitted briefly among the others—resentful and agitated, but willing to let him take responsibility.
"Cathan, I have no more time for playing games with you," Hubert said. His voice had the exasperated tone of a parent finally pushed too far by a wayward child. "Your sister carries the next heir. Clearly, I cannot risk killing you until after she is safely delivered. I promise you, however, that you shall not enjoy these last months of your life."
Cathan kept his eyes averted, hands clasped tightly in his lap.
"I'm sure you are aware of the constraints that were placed on the late king in the months following the death of King Javan," Hubert went on blandly. "Well, your constraints shall be far more rigid, and the worse for knowing, beyond hope of reprieve, that the day the queen is delivered, you shall die—with merciful quickness, if the child lives.
"But if she loses the child—well, you cannot begin to imagine the pain that the human body can endure before death finally releases it. Or perhaps you can—but no, you did not witness the fate of one Declan Carmody, who betrayed our trust some years ago. You were too young. It happened the same day that Richard's father rid us of an earlier Kheldour lord—the father of the present Duke of Claibourne, if I'm not mistaken. Did Murdoch tell you of it, Richard?"
Rhysem had told Cathan of it; and obviously Murdoch had told, too, for Richard went very pale as he gave the archbishop a curt nod.
"I thought he might have done," Hubert said with a cold smile. He drew a deep breath and let it out before going on.
"But, enough of these pleasant digressions. As for the immediate future, dear Cathan, your docile presence will be required at the king's funeral two days hence. You will make one more public appearance at the young king's coronation in a few months' time. Father Lior, if I entrust him to the _Custodes'_ tender care, can I be assured that he will be sufficiently biddable to meet his remaining obligations?"
Lior inclined his head. "You have my word on it, your Grace, by the obedience I owe you."
"Then take him out of here," Hubert said coldly. "I don't wish to look at him any more."
As Lior summoned guards, and Cathan suffered himself to be bound and hustled from the council chamber, he thanked God for his temporary reprieve and resigned himself to at least his immediate fate—though he allowed himself a breath of hope that the Kheldour lords might arrive in time to save him from everything that Hubert had planned. He could endure the next few days, unpleasant though they would be.
And after that—after that, if the Kheldour lords were not successful, it really hardly mattered...
When supper time had come and gone and Cathan still had not appeared or sent word, Michaela's anxiety began to mount. Increasingly worried inquiries to the guards outside her door revealed nothing until a sympathetic captain finally informed her that Sir Cathan was indisposed and would not be able to join her that evening. Her tearful persistence eventually elicited the opinion that the queen's brother was exhausted from his journey and was expected to catch up on his sleep in the next day or two.
Rhysel fared little better in her efforts to gain information. She found excuse to go abroad several times during the early evening hours, first to fetch her belongings from her former room and then making foray to the kitchen for a cup of warm milk for Owain, the while trying to pick up some hint of what had happened behind the Council's closed doors. She learned only that the Council was still in session, supper having been sent in. No one seemed to know if Cathan was still among them.
She returned to the royal apartments with Owain's milk to find the queen just finishing his bath, pulling a clean white nightshirt over the tousled raven head. Later, when they had tucked the boy into the big state bed, his Papa and Uncle Cathan knights propped against the lion headboard to guard him while he slept, she and the queen withdrew to sit in the window embrasure. With Rhysel's promotion to the queen's household, she now slept on a pallet at the foot of her mistress' bed, but with both women in their night shifts, and fair hair caught in fat braids down their backs, they looked like sisters or two errant schoolgirls rather than queen and maid.
"What did you find out?" Michaela asked, huddling over the rushlight set between them. "Is he all right?"
Rhysel shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. The Council was still in session. That first story we got, of him being 'indisposed,' suggests that he isn't going to be able to see you for a while."
"Maybe he _is_ catching up on his sleep," Michaela said hopefully. "He did look awfully tired."
"He also said he'd try to come back for supper—if they'd let him," Rhysel replied. "But I don't think they'll dare to do anything to him at least until after the funeral," she added at the queen's look of panic. "By then, the Kheldour lords should be here, and I hope everything will be all right."
"What if it isn't?" Michaela whispered.
"We aren't going to think about that right now," Rhysel said sternly. "In the meanwhile, the great lords think you're in far more precarious health than you are, and they're terrified you'll lose the child. You don't want to push that fear to the point that Master James comes poking around wanting to keep you in bed or sedated, but it wouldn't hurt to keep asking about Cathan and demand to be allowed to see him and make it clear that you're pining for your brother, especially now that—the king is gone."
Michaela bowed her head, fighting back her grief—for both men—then remembered the brooch Cathan had been at such pains to get to her. Returning to her dressing table, as Rhysel leaned out to watch in some curiosity, Michaela picked up the Eye of Rom and the Haldane brooch and brought them back to the window embrasure.
"I wonder why he made such a point of giving this back to me," she said, laying the great ruby aside and taking the brooch between the fingers of both hands. "I can understand about the Eye of Rom; it's part of the Haldane regalia. And certainly, the brooch was important to the two of us, as a symbol of—"
She broke off as Rhysel laid a hand on hers.
"May I see that?"
Wordlessly Michaela gave it to her, watching as the Deryni woman closed her hands around it briefly, then laid the enameled side of it against her forehead, eyes closed. After a moment she took the brooch away and looked up, grinning a little as she fingered the red-enameled gold.
"You have a very brave man for a brother, and your Rhysem was far wiser than I ever gave him credit for. I can't Read it, because it isn't meant for me, but there's something locked into this brooch, Mika—something your Rhysem set there, just beginning to learn to use the powers we loosed in him, here in this very room. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he's left you the key to setting the Haldane potential in his son."
"In Owain?" Michaela breathed. "Rhysel, he's too young!"
"Too young to wield the power, but not too young to have it set upon him, so he can grow into it, guided by wise men who'll gladly come to teach him, if we can ever get him truly crowned. That's why Cathan brought you the Eye of Rom as well. You know it's always been more than just a physical part of the Haldane legacy. What did Cathan say When he gave it to you?"
"Why, only that I'd have to pierce Owain's ear so he could wear it— _and that I should do it, as soon as possible_ ," she added, suddenly remembering that silent exhortation he had sent her, temporarily forgotten in her concern for his safety.
She picked up the Eye of Rom and looked at it, the great cabochon ruby the size of a man's thumbnail, set in gold as an earring, with a golden wire to secure it.
"Rhysel, I don't know how to do this," she whispered, her eyes going round. "Oh, not how to pierce his ear—I remember when my mother did mine. But the rest—the ritual. I can only vaguely remember what we did for Rhysem, and _I_ didn't really do it; I only said and did as I was told."
Smiling, Rhysel took away the Eye of Rom and replaced it with the brooch, closing the queen's fingers around it.
"See what he's left you, Mika," she whispered. "Close your eyes and let yourself relax. Draw a deep breath and let it out... and now think of Rhysem, lying in some darkened room, not very long ago, with the brooch clasped in his hand, thinking of you and of Owain... And when you're ready, press the brooch to your forehead, the way you saw me do... and open to Rhysem's message... an ultimate message of love and strength that can sustain you and Owain and even the other son you carry, even beyond Rhysem's mortality... When you're ready..."
Michaela could feel the lethargy stealing over her, the power of Rhysel's magic taking her deep and centered, and gradually she came to know that she could do as Rhysel asked. She could feel all her concentration focusing on the brooch in her hand, the resolve that she and Rhysem together had forged in this symbol of Haldane freedom. And as the other woman's hand fell away from hers, she was aware of her own hand slowly lifting, seemingly of its own volition, the brooch cupped in its palm; and her head nodding lower and lower until it touched the cool enamel.
Knowledge came complete and crystal-clear, of how he had wanted it done. He had simplified and refined what had been done for him, both the night she had been witness and another night, when his own father had done secret things to his own three sons. It was the nature of the Haldane power that a father might not see his son fully empowered, but it was also its nature that each holder of the power sensed, by instinct, how its potential was to be transmitted. Owain _was_ young for what was asked; but Rhysem had trusted in the wisdom of the new regency he had tried to create. And if Michaela trusted in _him_ , subjecting their son to what was required, and Rhysem had, indeed, judged the Kheldour lords with wisdom, the Haldane crown might yet be free.
Tears were spilling from her lashes when she at last looked up, but she also was smiting. Still lightly in trance, she offered Rhysel her hand, to share what she had learned. Rhysel, too, was crying after she had Read it and moved closer to hug the queen in comfort until they both had spent their tears.
"Should we try to do it tonight," Michaela whispered, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her shift, "or do you think we ought to wait until tomorrow night? Cathan might be able to help, if we wait."
"We maybe ought to do it while we have the chance," Rhysel replied. "The situation could get worse. For one thing, the new regents could decide that you need closer observation, what with fears about your pregnancy and the threat of the Kheldour lords coming to challenge them." She raised an eyebrow in faint amusement. "This is going to be interesting: no medication, no Healer, no priest—"
"And nobody who really knows what she's doing," Michaela said, returning a brave smile. "But Rhysem thought we could do it; he thought _I_ could do it, just in case you weren't available to help me out. With both of us, how far wrong could we go?"
"Now _that_ ," Rhysel said with a grin, "is a question you must never ask."
It took them most of an hour to prepare, assembling and improvising materials and waiting for activity to settle down in the outer rooms of the apartments and in the corridors outside. After they heard the guards change, Rhysel slipped into the solar where Nieve and Lirin were sleeping on daybeds—the ladies on duty, should the queen need them during the night—and deepened their sleep so that only a commotion in the corridor outside would rouse them. She could do nothing about the guards, but intrusion was unlikely at this hour, given the queen's delicate condition.
She tiptoed back into the bedchamber to find Michaela sitting cross-legged in the middle of the great bed with a sewing basket on her lap, the sleeping Owain close beside her. In Rhysel's absence, she had unreeled a skein of silken thread to define a circle around the bed—Haldane crimson, almost invisible against the dark floorboards. Included in the circle was the small nightstand hard by the left-hand side of the bed, which held a towel and basin and a single rushlight. As instructed, she had left a gap in the northeast quadrant, as had been done in another circle in that room only a few weeks before.
"I'll confess before we start that this is as primitive as _I've_ ever worked," Rhysel whispered, as she came through the gap in the circle, closed and loosely tied the ends of silk behind her, and climbed up onto the bed beside the queen. "My mother would have loved it—experimental ritual. My father would have been appalled. But then, Healers are often quite conservative. Look at my brother: you'd think he was thirty, not thirteen." She smiled and glanced down at the sleeping Owain.
"On the very positive side of things, if anyone walks in on us, unless they catch us at _exactly_ the wrong moment, there isn't any physical evidence to get us into trouble. I'll try to keep the necessary formality to a minimum. Are you ready to begin?"
"I am."
And she was. As Rhysel smiled and held out her hands, Michaela took them and bowed her head, closing her eyes as they lowered the circle of their arms around the sleeping Owain.
"Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, O Lord, and I shall be clean," Rhysel murmured, taking this simple verse as symbol of the more formal purification they dared not enact, with incense and aspergillum. "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures."
"He leadeth me beside the still waters, He restoreth my soul," Michaela continued softly, whispering the words, with Rhysel until they had finished the Psalm. After repeating the Lord's Prayer, she crossed herself in the protection of the Holy Trinity, also signing Owain's forehead with the sacred symbol, then watched as Rhysel slowly stood in the center of the bed and faced the east.
Her head nearly touched the canopy above them, pale yellow Forcinn silk shot with gold, nearly the color of her hair. After clasping her hands before her for a moment, lips pressed against her fingertips, Rhysel lifted her arms in a silent gesture of orison, sweeping them up and wide to either side and back to cross on her breast, after which she bowed. Then, with left hand still pressed lightly to her breast, she pointed the first two fingers of her right hand at the floor in a gesture of command, just where the silk thread lay. Michaela could almost see the ghostly, steel-bright blade of her focused will shoot out to touch and ignite the silk with an unseen fire that did not burn.
Rhysel spoke no words aloud as she began turning slowly to her right, her two fingers following the line of the silken thread, but Michaela could feel the power pouring through the focus of that hand and sensed the invisible light that followed the hand like snagged silk caught and dragged behind it, a gossamer veil that billowed wider as she turned, rising up and over the canopy of the bed in a softly shimmering dome of not-light by the time Rhysel had come full-turn to her starting point.
She clasped her hands before her again at that, bowing slightly to the east, then cocked her head to listen to the outside sounds before turning her palms upward, just at her breast, and beginning a whispered invocation.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light arising do we summon Thy holy Raphael, Heavenly Physician, Guardian of Air, to witness this rite and bring healing of minds and souls and bodies."
She brought her hands together and bowed, then turned a quarter circle to lift her palms southward.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light increasing do we summon Thy holy Michael, Protector, Wielder of the Fiery Sword, to witness this rite and protect us in our hour of need."
Again the bow, the turning, the lifting up.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light descending do we summon Thy holy Gabriel, Thy Herald of the Heavens and Lord of Water, to witness this rite and carry our supplications to Our Merciful Lady."
And finally to the north.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light returning do we summon Thy holy Uriel, Lord of the Earth and Conveyer of Souls, to witness this rite but to take only fear from this place. All this, if it be Thy will."
When she had turned back to the east, she bowed again, then spread her arms again, throwing back her head to whisper, "Now do we stand outside time, in a place not of earth. As our ancestors before us bade, we join together and are one. Amen. Selah. So be it."
"So be it," Michaela repeated, bowing her head to cross herself again.
In the silence that followed, as Rhysel turned with a soft sigh to sink to her knees opposite the queen, the sleeping Owain between them, Michaela pulled her sewing basket closer and took out a needle threaded with scarlet silk, bidding Rhysel bring the rushlight closer.
"Your father had a distinct advantage when he did this to Rhysem and his brothers," Michaela said softly, holding the needle in the flame, glancing at the sleeping Owain. "Deryni potions to cleanse the wounds, and Deryni talent to heal them."
Smiling, Rhysel handed Michaela the rushlight and leaned over to fetch the basin, which was partially filled with water.
"I can't help you on the healing, but it doesn't take Deryni talent to know that boiling things helps to clean them." She plucked the Haldane brooch and the Eye of Rom from the sewing basket and slipped them into the basin. "Put your needle in, too, but leave a bit of the thread hanging out. Now draw back a little. It _does_ take Deryni talents to boil water this way."
Wide-eyed, Michaela watched as Rhysel held her hand close above the water's surface and closed her eyes. After a moment, tiny bubbles began to form along the surface of the water, deeper; then steam began to rise.
"My father taught me how to do this shortly before he died," Rhysel finally murmured, as she took her hand away and the bubbling stopped. "It's an old Healer's trick, but it doesn't take a Healer to do it; just Deryni concentration. I later learned a variation for cleaning off magical residues, but this was just for physical cleansing. We wouldn't want to cancel out whatever the king left on these. Hand me that towel, and we'll give our young man's earlobe a good wipe before you go poking your hole."
In the flat silence while they waited for the water to cool a little, Michaela listened to the sound of her own heart beating and the occasional, muffled sound of a guard stirring far outside. At length, Rhysel dipped a corner of the towel in the hot water and used it to clean Owain's ear, also bidding the queen to wipe off her hands. Then, while Rhysel held the boy's head steady, also keeping him asleep and free from pain, Michaela used her sterile needle to pierce her son's right earlobe. He did not stir, and there was very little blood.
"I have another earring of twisted gold wire in my jewel casket, that Rhysem used to wear before he became king," she whispered, as she inserted the Eye of Rom in Owain's ear. "It's lighter and will be more comfortable while the ear is healing, but he's supposed to wear this one for what we're doing now."
Rhysel nodded. "It's heavy for such a wee lad. Special occasions, until he comes of age. It's the power that's important."
"Aye. Now we'll see about _that_."
Together she and Rhysel shifted the sleeping Owain round so that his shoulders lay in her lap, head cradled against her stomach. Rhysel let him stir as Michaela began washing his left hand, though she kept loose controls with a hand on one bare foot.
"Mummy—why you washing my hand? Is it morning already?"
"Not yet, darling. There's something Papa asked us to do, but you must be very, very quiet. It might be a little scary, but you'll be very brave, won't you?"
"For Papa?" Owain murmured, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, which he then offered her. "Wash other hand, too?"
"All right, we'll wash both hands," Michaela murmured, glancing at Rhysel, who was only barely containing a smile. "Can you sit up a little better for me now? That's right. Let me put my arms around you and hug you. Mmmmm, I do love you!" she declared, kissing the top of his head.
He grinned and wriggled contentedly in her arms. "An' I love you, Mummy. What we do for Papa?"
"Well, Uncle Cathan brought us something that Papa very much wanted you to have. It's a very special present."
"Papa's Lion," Owain breathed, as she took it out of the ba sin, not touching the clasp, and shook off the excess water.
"It is, indeed. Soon after you were born, I asked a man to make this for your papa, to remind us of the crown Papa wore—the crown that you're going to wear." She set the curved body of the brooch in Owain's small right hand with the gold clasp opened at right angles, cupping her own hand around his to steady brooch and clasp, glancing at Rhysel.
"Now, here's the part that's very special. You can't see the lion right now, can you?"
"No."
"Well, something else that you can't see is a special kind of magic that Papa left you, that will help you be a proper king some day, like him." She gently sought his left hand with hers and opened the little fingers. "I can't explain how or why right now—you'll find out when you're bigger—but I promise you that Papa wanted us to do this. You might think it's a little scary, so you must be brave, but I promise I won't hurt you. Will you be brave for Papa?"
Frowning a little, he twisted his face around slightly to look at her, grey Haldane eyes searching hers.
"Brave for Papa?" he murmured.
Before he could change his mind—or she could change hers—she braced his hand against hers and set the point of the brooch's clasp lightly against his flesh—flesh of _her_ flesh. Not against the palm, as his father had done the night of his empowering, but just against the tender web of skin stretched between thumb and forefinger—and thrust the sliver of gold home.
With Rhysel controlling, _he_ felt no pain, though he gasped with surprise, but the passage of the gold through her own flesh as well sent a hot chill up her entire arm as the power began to flow.
_That_ he felt, though Rhysel damped his ability to make any sound as energy began to shift within the circle, swirling and then focusing through the Haldane brooch transfixing the hands of mother and son. Most of it flowed into Owain, sending tendrils of potential power probing into the deepest recesses of his being, long after he ceased to be aware of any of it; but some of it cycled through the mother and then back into Owain.
And some of it, and then more of it, flowed into the mother and, finding Haldane flesh, flowed into the child she carried, beginning to quicken the heritage of his blood before ever his tiny body quickened, stirring the Haldane potential in him as well.
She felt it in herself as the power channeled through her and stirred her own Deryni blood to new potency—a tingling and a quickening—and as its wonder registered, she dared to raise her eyes to the glorious light all around her and Owain, to the gossamer forms of winged Others who moved within that light and lifted exquisite, transparent hands to touch their faces in benison.
Tears of gladness welled in her eyes as she held her son close, their hands joined by love as well as gold, and just as she thought her heart could contain no more wonder, she caught just a scarlet glimpse of another among those glorious creatures—surely her own Rhysem, come back to her for just this instant, his form radiant with the perfection of health restored and the beauty of eternity, his face shining beneath a golden crown as he pressed his fingertips lightly, tenderly to his lips, smiling as he offered her his kiss on outstretched hands.
And behind him was another, with quicksilver eyes and quicksilver hair, and a wise, knowing face that smiled, just as the light and the love overwhelmed her.
When Michaela awoke, perhaps an hour later, she wondered a little fuzzily whether she had dreamed it all. The rushlight still was burning on the little table beside the bed, and Owain was snuggled down beside her, his Papa knight loosely clasped under one arm and one thumb but recently slipped from his perfect rosy lips. She smiled and eased the toy from his grasp, leaning it against the headboard beside its companion to take up watch again, then absently smoothed a lock of black hair back from her son's face—and brushed the little hoop of twisted gold wire in his right earlobe.
"He'll be fine," Rhysel's voice said softly from behind her, at the same time setting a hand on her shoulder to soothe her startled response as she rolled onto her back to stare. "I changed the earring—blooded the Eye of Rom and the Ring of Fire before I put them away in your jewel chest—then I cleaned up the two of you and put everything back the way it was supposed to be. It's a good thing you didn't try this on your own."
Michaela swallowed and bunked at the Deryni woman, amazed that she could be so calm and matter-of-fact after what had happened.
"Did you— _see_ anything?" she asked.
Rhysel nodded slowly. "I felt quite a lot, too. Now I know why no one's supposed to touch the subject during such a working. No harm done to any of the parties involved"—she held up a hand to stay Michaela's concern—"I was prepared. But it was—intense." She cocked her head. "I never met Cinhil or Javan, but I'd have to say that your Rhysem probably was the finest Haldane to date, when it comes to figuring out how the Haldane power is supposed to be used. If his sons are half as good, they'll be something very special."
"Did you—see Rhysem?" Michaela asked.
"Aye. And my grandfather, I think." She sighed. "I wish I'd known him. Uncle Joram says he really is a saint—or at least he seems to do a lot of things that saints do. One thing is certain: he didn't just die, all those years ago."
Michaela nodded slowly, fighting back a heavy yawn, men went ahead and indulged it.
"You'd better get some sleep," Rhysel said softly, laying her hand gently on the queen's. "I can't explain it, but I think your own power may have increased from the spillover. I do advise rest, though. The next few days are apt to be rough. Please don't fight me."
Fighting sleep was the last thing on Michaela's mind as she let her eyelids close. And the last thing she thought, as she drifted into sleep, was to wonder what Rhysem had done to her, from beyond the grave—or from the cathedral, it occurred to her, as she yawned again and then sank. Because Rhysem wasn't even buried yet...
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I speak of the things which I have made touching the king.
—Psalms 45:1
When Rhysel reported the results of the queen's work to Joram, a short while later, his elation could scarcely be contained. Almost, she fancied she could hear him laughing aloud in the room with her, as she had not heard him laugh in years.
_The new king confirmed in his potential_ and _Michaela somehow boosted to higher ability? This_ is _welcome news. I begin to think we may actually pull this off. I've never heard of such a secondary effect, but who really knows anything about the Haldane potential? Ansel and Queron and the others will be delighted_.
After giving her an update on their progress and estimated arrival time, he offered further instructions.
_Just be certain that nothing prevents the queen from making the usual appearances in the next few days, and the young king with her. We wouldn't want the regents to decide, for example, that attending the funeral would be too much strain on her and the baby. On the other hand, if she seems too strong, they may decide that they don't need Cathan any longer. You've not been able to discover a clue as to what's become of him?_
_The official word is that he's "indisposed" Someone tried to tell us that he was simply catching up on his sleep, but I didn't like the tone when Tammaron and Manfred took him off to the first meeting of the Regency Council. I'll try to find out more in the course of tomorrow_.
_Do that_ , he responded. _And in the meantime, if it can be managed at all, try to give Michaela an intensive course in using what she's acquired. You know the specific skills to concentrate on_.
_I'll do the best I can_ , she agreed. _Tomorrow is the lying-in-state, but I don't expect they'll allow her to go to that, since they let her be there to receive the body this afternoon. Even if they did, they wouldn't let Owain go—and she wouldn't leave him. Nor would I wish her to. But the great lords will go_ — _or else remain closeted in the council chamber, trying to decide what to do about Kheldour. In either case, I'll try to find out more about Cathan. It would be bitter irony if he got this far, only to perish before we can bring our plan to fruition_.
Cathan had not yet perished, though he could almost wish he had. He had guessed they might bleed him again, so was not surprised when Lior and his _Custodes_ guards took him to a bleak cell in the bowels of the castle where Brother Polidorus soon appeared, armed with basin, ligature, and lancet. The guards had held him while Polidorus performed the operation, and Cathan had fought it despite the futility, sickeningly aware how his strength ebbed as the volume of his blood in the china basin grew.
Lior had stopped it short of seriously endangering him, of course, for they still needed him for a few more days at least. It was done purely to intimidate him further; their drugs would have been sufficient to keep him docile. But the medication Polidorus gave him afterward, though enough to blur his vision and render him incapable of standing unassisted, was not enough to force him into the mercy of sleep, where he could forget his plight for a few hours; and merely dozing brought nightmares. At midnight, left alone in only shirt and breeches, his bandaged arm still smarting, he lay awake by choice in his close prison cell, staring at the barrel-vaulted ceiling and praying for deliverance, one bare ankle shackled to an iron ring in the wall at the foot of the wooden bedstead.
And at midnight, the torches and candles were still burning in the council chamber, as the newly reunited Regency Council continued to consider strategies to protect what they had stolen.
"It doesn't seem likely, then, that any serious force from Eastmarch can reach here in less than two or three days," Tammaron was saying, as he rubbed wearily at his eyes. "We're probably safe until after the funeral. By then, we'll have our troops in place and the city secure. Also, the more men they try to bring, the slower they'll be. What's the earliest that a messenger could have reached them with the news?"
"Well, it would have been a solid two days' ride to Lochalyn Castle," Manfred said. "Obviously, we made no attempt to send word north, but it's possible, I suppose, that they might have had agents among our returning forces, who could have carried the news. But our own men didn't know of the king's death until the next morning, other than the officers billeted at the convent. The sisters at the convent knew, of course, but we closed it down for the night, and no one left."
"Except that priest who heard the king's final confession," Rhun murmured. "You wouldn't have thought such an old man could disappear that quickly, without someone seeing him."
"What priest was that?" Hubert inquired, looking sharply at Lior.
"Just—an itinerant father who showed up at the convent, your Grace," Lior answered uncomfortably. "Some priest of Saint Jarlath—a Father Donatus. I'd given the king the last anointing during the night, but he'd refused confession and Holy Communion. By then, he was—not kindly disposed toward _Custodes_ clergy." He blanched as he caught Hubert's simmering look of resentment, only then remembering how the king's brother, King Alroy, had similarly refused Hubert's ministrations when _he_ lay dying.
"I'd been trying to locate someone not of my Order," Lior offered. "I couldn't let him die without full benefit of the Sacraments."
"A salve to your conscience, after you'd set about his death," Rhun muttered, subsiding at Manfred's sharp glance.
"The convent's own priest was away, but one of the sisters produced this Father Donatus just after noon," Lior went on cautiously. "He looked harmless enough—he was quite old—and he wasn't in _Custodes_ habit. I took him to the king immediately. Apparently his Highness found him acceptable. The priest was with him when he died, and he comforted Sir Cathan afterward."
"And disappeared before he could be interrogated," Hubert said coldly, "being well aware of the circumstances of the king's death, having heard his last confession."
Secorim frowned, daring to come to Lior's defense. "With all due respect, your Grace, the priest is bound by the seal of—"
"You apparently assume far more conscience in the Order of Saint Jarlath than exists in your own Order, Secorim," Hubert said coldly. "How many times have you and I—and Paulin, in his time—broken the seal when it suited our convenience? Donatus, Donatus—the name means 'a gift,' doesn't it? Lior, what did he look like?"
"Just an aging country priest, your Grace. Not a large man," he elaborated, at Hubert's sharp look. "Sparse of flesh—wiry, I would say—dark eyes, white hair, neatly tonsured."
"And wearing the robes of the Order of Saint Jarlath." Hubert shook his head, still looking annoyed. "Secorim, send to the Abbot of Saint Jarlath's and find out whether he has a priest meeting that description. I know it will take some time, but I want to know. In the meantime—" He leaned back in his chair, smiling dangerously. "I wonder what else Sir Cathan can tell us about the man."
A quarter hour later, Cathan was again seated in the chair at the end of the council table, barefooted and restrained by manacles and fetters, his prisoner status now undeniable. Again he wished they had given him the mercy of heavier medication, so he could have escaped this interrogation. Instead, he fought to keep his head up and follow the line of Hubert's questioning.
"I've told you, I never saw the man before that day," he said, which was true enough. "Surely you don't expect me to recognize every priest in every little religious order in Gwynedd. Besides, I was hardly in any condition to notice details. He was a priest that the king was willing to see. That was the only thing on my mind."
"And what did he say to you, after he took you out of the death chamber? Where did you go? Where did _he_ go?"
"I don't remember exactly what he said. Words intended to comfort, I'm sure. I'm afraid I wasn't in any condition to appreciate them."
"And you went—where?" Hubert repeated.
"To—to the chapel." Cathan shook his head bleakly. "We prayed, I think. Yes, I'm sure we must have done. And then he—left. And Fulk and I went back to the king."
"Did you see him leave? Did he take a horse?"
"I don't remember seeing either," Cathan whispered, which was true. "I wanted to get back to Rhysem's body. I wanted to—attend him, to serve him one last time. But they were—cutting off his hand..."
The memory was suddenly before him again, far too vividly, loosed and intensified by the drugs in his body. He felt the bleak horror rising in his throat as he buried his face in manacled hands and started sobbing, a still coherent and logical part of him daring to hope that his interrogators would find it difficult to cope with emotions loosed by the medication they themselves had given him.
Even drug-fuzzed, his logic turned out to be correct. When they concluded that he could tell them nothing more, they let the guards take him back to his cell.
This time, he did sleep from sheer exhaustion; but in his dreams, stirred by emotion and unfettered by his medication, he relived those terrible last hours over and over again.
He saw no one but his _Custodes_ jailers the next day. He dozed uneasily through most of it. The meal they brought him at midday was drugged, but he ate it anyway, for starving himself would only make him weaker, and they would only drug him some other way if he refused to eat; the sting of a Deryni pricker would utterly betray him. His only consolation was that they would have to bring him out for the funeral the next day, for they dared not risk his sister's hysteria, if he was not at her side to help her through the emotions of the day.
Michaela, too, dozed through much of the day, though her sleep was that of deep trance, interspersed by the usual constraints imposed on a captive queen. Archbishop Hubert invited her to attend Mass that morning in the chapel royal, but she did not wish to subject Owain to the strain of another public appearance and would not leave him while she went. In any case, she could not bear the thought of receiving the Sacrament from Hubert when it was not required. Tomorrow would be more than sufficient for that.
At least Owain seemed fine when he woke, chirpy and eager for breakfast, apparently unaffected by what had happened the night before, if he even remembered any of it. Rhysel assured the queen that he would not.
"He Reads very much like a Deryni child," Rhysel told her, as she braided her hair after their leisurely breakfast, still cloistered in the queen's bedchamber. Owain had retreated to the window embrasure with the Papa knight and the Uncle Cathan knight and was setting up the others his governess had brought the day before, taking them out of their wicker basket and lining them up for royal inspection.
"If he grows into his powers in a similar way," Rhysel continued, "he won't have much access until he approaches puberty—but that's as it should be, because you wouldn't want a child wielding the kind of power he'll have until some discretion is acquired. After all, he still has to survive among humans who are basically afraid of us."
"Which means a benign regency, to protect him until he's grown," Michaela murmured. "Oh, Rhysel, do you think they'll be able to do it? Will the Kheldour lords reach here in time?"
"God willing," Rhysel whispered. "God knows they will try."
The Kheldour lords, meanwhile, were galloping southward from Valoret on blooded horses from the archbishop's stables, striking out across country rather than sticking to the better-traveled route that skirted the Eirian. The going was harder, but the distance was considerably shorter—and the only way they had a chance of reaching Rhemuth before the king's funeral on the morrow. The great lords would not be expecting them so soon, certain they could not have received the news and responded so quickly.
They would stop at Mollingford in a few hours to change horses again. They had made the three-day ride to Valoret in two, where Queron had already paved the way with Bishop Ailin MacGregor, Valoret's long-suffering auxiliary bishop.
Ailin was and long had been one of the keys to their plan. Singled out early in his career by no less a churchman than the saintly Archbishop Jaffray, to whom he had been devoted, Ailin had been hardly a year in his incumbency as Jaffray's auxiliary when the archbishop's death necessitated the election of a new successor—and Ailin had not supported the man who eventually won and held the See of Valoret. Not only had he supported the candidacy of Alister Cullen over Hubert as Primate of Gwynedd, but he dared to abstain in the election that made Hubert the ousted Alister's replacement, a few days later.
It was not an offense for which Hubert could remove him from office—and Ailin dutifully gave his new superior the vow of obedience demanded at his enthronement—but Hubert soon had made it clear that Ailin might forget about ever being promoted to a see of his own, so long as Hubert lived. Nor might he even expect escape as an itinerant bishop, for they enjoyed too much freedom. In Valoret, as a functionary in Hubert's episcopal machine, Ailin would remain closeted away where he could do no harm, under close observation by Hubert's spies—who increasingly wore the habit of the _Custodes Fidei_ , whose Mother House was nearby. Resigned to his fate, Ailin continued to honor his vow to his office, for he was a conscientious man and a dutiful son of the Church, but he harboured a smouldering resentment against the man who had stymied his career out of spite and now proceeded to abuse the office of primate and archbishop to extend his secular power.
This resentment did not go unmarked, though Ailin had kept it carefully private in Valoret. The exiled Bishop Dermot—and through him, the coalition led by Joram and the Deryni Bishop Niallan—had been courting Ailin for several years, against the eventual military ouster of the great lords. Ailin had been hesitant about supporting an armed undertaking that could be construed as rebellion against the king he had sworn to uphold; but supplanting Hubert and his cronies in favor of the king's duly chosen and appointed regency appealed to Ailin. He had inspected the codicils produced by the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley, duly witnessed by the queen's brother and a priest who was _not_ a member of the despicable _Custodes Fidei_ , and he had smiled as he lodged one of the copies in the archives of Valoret Cathedral. And he was ready to back up his approval with horses, men, and his own person.
Now, as they pressed on toward Mollingford, pulling back to a walk after a long stretch of cantering, Bishop Ailin drew rein alongside Ansel. Like the rest of them, he wore riding leathers and a leather brigandine, his tonsure covered by a leather cap and with no other sign of his calling visible. Unlike the rest of them, he was unaccustomed to such long hours in the saddle—fit enough, for a man in his mid-fifties, but they had ridden through the night, with only brief stops to water the horses and snatch rations on the go.
"Could we stop for a few minutes?" he said breathlessly.
"Legs still bothering you?" Ansel replied.
At Ailin's pained nod, Ansel surveyed ahead and behind, catching Sighere's glance backward, and signaled a halt. They were passing through a broad meadow studded with tiny lake-lets, with a clear view for miles in either direction.
"A quarter hour to rest the horses," he called, as he pulled up. "Tieg, see if anyone has a problem. Dom Queron, could you join us, please?"
As he swung down, giving his horse to one of the Kheldour men and then going to help Ailin dismount, Queron kneed his mount closer and also slid from his saddle. He was at least a decade older than Ailin, but the past week in the pursuit of the king had reaccustomed him to the rigors of long-distance riding, and he knew exactly what the bishop must be feeling.
"I thoroughly sympathize, your Grace," the Healer said easily, as Ansel helped Ailin ease down on a rotten log. "From very recent experience, I can imagine that your legs must feel like jelly. I can give you something to dull the pain, or I can do something more direct. It's your decision."
Ailin grimaced and stretched out first one leg, then the other, leaning against Ansel for support, his face grey with fatigue and discomfort.
"Well, I don't suppose I ought to take anything, as tired as I am," he said, massaging at his inner thighs, "so that leaves something more direct. I won't deny I'm a little apprehensive, but I've trusted you with my life and office and maybe my soul; I might as well trust you with my body."
Smiling, Queron knelt down in front of Ailin, glancing up at Ansel in quick instruction. "My Healer's vows are as holy as my priestly ones, to do no harm," he said gently. "Your Grace may rest easy."
So saying, he set his hands on Ailin's knees, even as Ansel took control from behind Ailin, pulling his head back to rest against his waist. Ailin's pale eyes closed, his whole body going limp against Ansel's. In Healing trance, Queron worked his magic very quickly, easing the cramped muscles in knees and thighs as best he could, then setting a fatigue-banishing spell on the human bishop. It would need renewal before they rode into Rhemuth, but the rest of the journey would be easier for it.
He left Ailin sleeping for a few minutes while he moved among the others, but everyone seemed reasonably fit. The Kheldour men had slept for a few hours in Valoret, while Graham and Sighere and their Deryni allies talked to the bishop, and the Valoret troops, some thirty of them, were still reasonably fresh. They watched him curiously as he moved among them, for most were young enough never to have known a time when Healers were regarded for their worth and not for their "tainted" blood, but Ailin had chosen his men well. He sensed no hostility or fear.
Tieg was talking to one now, his hands clasped around the fetlock of the man's mount in healing concentration and carrying on a conversation at the same time, with the young Duke Graham crouching to look on. The lad was good. Queron gave him an appreciative nod before heading back to Ailin and Ansel. Sighere had come over to look at the bishop while he slept, taking a swig from a leather flask, but he stoppered it and hung it back on his saddle as Queron approached.
"Is he going to make it?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, yes—especially now that he's let me give him a hand. I wasn't sure about that, but I didn't want to force anything. He's got to be a totally willing ally, or it won't work."
"Well, it willnae work if we dinnae get there, either," Sighere muttered, glancing over where Graham was talking to Tieg and the Valoret man. "Mebbe when we change horses at Mollingford, I'll ask ye fer a jolt o' whate'er ye gave him. Graham, let's awa!"
The order brought an immediate flurry of activity, as men and horses reunited and began falling into place. As Queron knelt by Ailin again, Ansel brought him out of sleep, himself abandoning the light trance he had entered to refocus his own energies.
"Better?" Queron asked, as Ailin's eyes fluttered open with a start.
Ansel's hands helped him straighten more upright, and the bishop rubbed tentative hands along his thighs, letting out a sigh as he looked up at Queron.
"That's miraculous," he murmured. "How can anyone say that's evil?"
Queron cocked his head and shrugged. "I'm sure _I_ don't know. Something to think about, when you get back up on that horse."
A few minutes later, they were on their way again, settling into the ground-eating pace that would take them to their next stop, that much closer to Rhemuth.
And in Rhemuth, as dusk began to settle over the city, the self-proclaimed regents of Gwynedd met once more in the castle's council chamber—Hubert and Rhun and Manfred and Tammaron.
"So we simply shut the gates to Claibourne and Marley," Tammaron said. "We don't let them into the city. It isn't as if they won't be recognized."
"True enough," Manfred agreed, "but a great deal depends on how many men they bring. We can shut the gates, but eventually we'll have to answer them. And once word gets out of this codicil, it's going to be difficult to deny them entrance."
"Richard has a force ready to take north to intercept them," Rhun said. "Do you want them dispatched tonight?"
"How many?" Hubert said, drumming his pudgy fingers on the chair arm.
"About two hundred," Rhun said. "A joint command of Carthane lancers and _Custodes_ knights. I should think that more than adequate to deal with however many Claibourne and Marley have been able to scare up. Borderers!" He sneered. "Richard will chase them right into the river."
"Manfred, do you agree?" Hubert said.
Manfred nodded. "I've briefed Richard. We can depend on him."
"Let's dispatch him, then," Hubert said, nodding. "What about the eastern approach to the city? Is it possible they could come that way?"
"Unlikely," Manfred said. "It's slightly shorter, but not a route for moving lots of men in a hurry. The roads are poor, with very rough going in some spots. For speed, I think they'll come along the river—and Richard will be ready for them. And if they should come from the east—well, no one is going to let border levies into the city. In any case, I can't imagine anything will happen tomorrow."
"Very well," Hubert said. "In that instance, I suggest we all get some sleep."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore.
—Ecclesiasticus 44:14
The morning of the king's funeral, Great George was slowly tolling in the cathedral tower below the castle as Gallard de Breffni came with _Custodes_ guards to take Cathan from his prison cell. An hour later, bathed, shaved, and dressed in unrelieved black, still under guard, Cathan received a not-unexpected visit from Manfred MacInnis, accompanied by the _Custodes_ monk called Brother Embert.
"I hear that it's a fine day for a funeral," Manfred said coldly, as Gallard set heavy hands on Cathan's shoulders to prevent him rising. The earl was carrying Cathan's sword, its white belt wrapped around the scabbard, and Embert had a cup in his hand. "I trust you aren't going to cause any problems for us today. I shouldn't want the queen to be upset."
Cathan shook his head, tight-lipped, well aware what Embert had in the cup.
"Good. I'm glad that's understood. You will now be so good as to drink down the little potion that Brother Embert has brought you. You know the drill."
Cathan took the cup that Embert put into his hand, but his eyes flashed his hatred as he glanced up at Manfred, his hand tightening around it.
"What would you do," he said softly, "if I tipped this onto the floor?"
Manfred's face went even colder, the light eyes narrowing. "I would make you lap it up like a dog, and then I would have Brother Embert bleed you again, to compensate for what had been lost."
Raising an eyebrow, Cathan lifted the cup slightly in salute—he could feel Gallard's hands tensing—then tossed off the contents in a single draught, grimacing as he swallowed and handed the cup back to Embert.
"Bad ale but a good threat, Manfred. It's far more original than I expected. Come now, you didn't really think I'd be stupid enough to deny my sister what little comfort I can, today of all days, just to spite you? Gallard, take your hands off me. I'm hardly in any position to defy anyone. I've taken my medicine; I'll be lucky to stay on my feet today."
"You'll be lucky to stay alive, if you keep that up," Manfred muttered, thrusting Cathan's sword into his hands. "Put that on."
"Of course."
With Gallard's hands still on him he stood, unwrapping the sword belt and passing it around his waist, noting that someone had cleaned the white leather. In addition, though this hardly surprised him, a thin piece of wire had been bound around the quillons and through the rings of the scabbard, to prevent the weapon being drawn. They were taking no chances with him.
When he had finished buckling the belt, passing the tongue behind and through the loop and pulling it taut, he reached aside for the black cap they had provided, setting it squarely on his fair head as he looked back at Manfred.
"I am yours to command, my lord."
"Yes, you are," Manfred said, the pale eyes dangerous. "And still shall be, when this day is over. I suggest you remember that, before taking any action that I might find objectionable. Bring him," he added to Gallard.
They took him downstairs then, to await the arrival of his sister and the young king. The drug started to hit him on the way, the familiar fogging of his senses and faint dizziness, and he had to catch his balance on Gallard's arm as he came out of the stairwell.
By the time he reached the yard and mounted up on the white charger they had provided—for the little king would ride with his uncle on the way to and from the cathedral—he knew it would take all his concentration to keep him and Owain on the horse and not disgrace them both. It was hot in the sun, especially dressed all in black, and he let himself doze in the saddle as they waited for the royal party to come out.
The royal party, meanwhile, was making final preparations for departure. While the queen's ladies fluttered nervously in the solar like so many blackbirds, waiting for their mistress, the queen and Rhysel were nearly finished dressing Owain. The process was being overseen by both the Papa knight and the Uncle Cathan knight, whom the boy had set on his mother's dressing table beside the jewel casket.
"Just hold still," Michaela murmured, fumbling at his ear, "and then Liesel will hold a mirror so you can see."
She finished fastening the Eye of Rom in place, setting the other earring of twisted gold back into her jewel box, then gave the black hair a quick swipe with an ivory comb. She wore the Haldane brooch at the throat of her gown, her only adornment save for the State Crown and her marriage ring.
"That's fine," she said, turning him to where the black-clad Rhysel stood with the mirror. "It doesn't pull too much, does it? It's a little heavier than the other one."
He fingered at it uncertainly as he turned, his little face screwed up in concentration—and froze as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, his mouth gaping in wonder. After two days of wearing plain black tunics, he had paid little attention when she pulled this one over his head a little earlier, but now he smoothed an almost reverent hand over the crimson and gold of the Haldane shield embroidered full across the chest of the black velvet. The Ring of Fire hung almost to his waist on a substantial gold chain, but he ignored that to stroke the embroidered lion again.
"Oh, Mummy, it's beautiful!" he whispered.
"Yes, it is, darling. I thought you'd like it," she heard herself saying, as she took up the small black velvet cap of maintenance, with its gold coronet nestled behind the ermine of the turn-up. His rosy lips made an awed O as she set it on his head, and Michaela felt her own breath catch in a pang of memory almost too dear to be borne.
"Mummy, I almost look like Papa," he whispered, reaching up to touch the coronet. "Mummy, do you think Papa looked like this when he was a little boy?"
Most assuredly, Rhysem had never looked like this at this age, as the third son of the king, but Michaela recalled that he had looked a great deal like this at Javan's funeral, the only time she had ever seen him in mourning. She blinked back the tears and forced herself to put the image from her mind as she dropped to her knees to hug him to her.
"Oh, my darling, you look very much like Papa," she murmured against his shoulder, choking back the tears. "Your papa would be so proud..."
"Don't cry, Mummy," he whispered, patting her cheeks with his little hands. "You said we must be brave for Papa."
"Yes, darling, I know."
"Mummy smile, then? Mummy be brave?"
"Yes, darling, Mummy will be brave," she said, and pressed firm kisses to both his hands before getting shakily back to her feet.
_Help me, Rhysel_ , she sent, as the younger woman steadied her. _I don't know if I can get through this_.
"Your Highness must be strong," Rhysel murmured, for the benefit of the other ladies now beginning to peer in from the solar, impatient to depart. "Let me fix your veil." And with her mind she reached out for the soothing controls, blurring the grief, instilling calm, urging courage and hope.
Michaela had recovered her composure by the time she must pass through the solar to where Tammaron was waiting to escort her and Owain. Obliged by protocol to take his arm, she had Rhysel walk before her with Owain, the other ladies going ahead and behind, fluttering sympathetically and making much of their privilege of being in the queen's entourage. At the last minute, Owain again had insisted on bringing the Papa knight, but Rhysel was carrying it and had gotten him to agree that it might ride to the cathedral in the sedan-chair with his mother, for he was to go on horseback with his Uncle Cathan.
As they came out onto the great hall steps, foot soldiers lined up along either side clashed to attention and an honor guard of twenty mounted _Custodes_ knights dipped their lances in salute, already dressed in mourning in the sweeping black mantles over their black armor. This time understanding the honor they did him, Owain did not flinch, holding his little head high as he followed Tammaron and his mother to the waiting sedan-chair and watched her handed into it, checking to see that Rhysel installed the Papa knight safely at her feet. He waved good-bye to Rhysel as she followed the other ladies to the palfreys provided for them, only then allowing Tammaron to lead him down into the yard, where Cathan sat watching him on a white horse with red leather harness. Rhun and Manfred waited behind Cathan, mounted on black horses, and Gallard de Breffni was on his left.
"Uncle Cathan!" the boy cried, breaking free of Tammaron to dart between Cathan's horse and a sorrel waiting for Tammaron, catching at Cathan's off-side stirrup.
Bending carefully, for sudden movements made him dizzy, Cathan leaned down to take the boy's hand and press it to his lips.
"Good morning, my prince," he murmured, as Tammaron caught up with the boy and picked him up, boosting him to sit in the saddle in front of Cathan.
"Just mind your manners, Drummond," the earl murmured, as they helped the boy settle.
The look he gave Cathan before backing off to bow gave similar warning, but Cathan only held the boy close in his arms, gathering up the red leather reins as the groom released them, and Tammaron mounted his own horse. He was somewhat heartened to see that Owain wore the Eye of Rom and hoped that meant that Mika had followed his instructions; he thought he had caught a glimpse of the Haldane brooch at her throat as she got into the sedan-chair.
"It's good to see you, Owain," he murmured, desperately wishing his head was clearer, wondering whether help would come today. "You look very fine this morning. Your papa would be proud."
"Mummy said we must be brave for Papa," Owain whispered. "You be brave, too, Uncle Cathan?"
Cathan nodded, bending to kiss the boy's neck. "We'll all be very brave, my prince. God help us, we all must be very brave."
The royal procession rode slowly out the castle gates and through the streets of Rhemuth—no true funeral cortege, since the late king's body had been taken directly to the cathedral on arrival in the city. Still the crowds lined the streets to glimpse their new young king and his brave, widowed mother, many remarking how fine the boy looked, sitting there straight and proper with his handsome uncle, many bowing as he passed, some of them weeping.
Again Archbishop Hubert was waiting on the cathedral steps with his clergy, ready to follow the royal party inside for the Requiem Mass that would lay Rhys Michael Alister Haldane to rest with his father and brothers. When Cathan had let Owain down into Tammaron's arms, he carefully swung down himself, forced to steady himself for a moment against the earl's shoulder, for his medication was at its peak.
"You'd better pull yourself together," Tammaron whispered sharply.
The moment of dizziness had already passed, but Cathan kept his voice carefully low as he whispered back, "If I fall flat on my face, blame your blessed archbishop. It won't be because _I_ wished it."
So saying, he drew himself carefully erect and took Owain's hand, leading him over to the sedan-chair where Michaela was alighting with the assistance of Manfred and Rhun—obviously with little enthusiasm. But when Owain made to retrieve the Papa knight, Manfred tried to keep him from it.
"Papa—" Owain whimpered, reaching for it.
"You can't take it into the cathedral," Manfred said, lifting it away, as Owain trembled on the brink of tears. "It isn't fitting."
"For God's sake, my lord, let him have it!" Michaela begged. "It gives him comfort. He's only a baby."
"He's the king."
"He's four years old," Cathan said softly, locking his hand around Manfred's wrist.
"Drummond, you push too far," Manfred whispered, his face but a handspan from Cathan's, though his hand began to lower.
"Just give the boy his toy."
Snorting, Manfred jerked his hand away, but he did thrust the wooden knight into Owain's hands before stalking over to Rhun, muttering under his breath. Cathan saw Rhun glance at him murderously, but he put it out of mind as he bent to comfort Owain, who was hugging the Papa knight and tightly clutching his mother's hand, lower lip still trembling.
"Here now, what's this?" he murmured, chucking the boy lightly under the chin. "I promised your papa we'd all be brave. Can you hold your head up like a king while we go inside? It would make your papa very proud."
Sniffling away the last of his tears, Owain lifted his head and nodded, almost managing a smile. At that, Cathan adjusted the boy's cap and coronet, then carefully straightened to join Michaela on her other side.
"Thank you," she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes as he slipped his arm through hers—and had to steady his weight against her until he caught his balance. "Cathan, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing," he whispered. "Just a little dizzy." _I'll tell you later_ , he added in her mind.
He had to wait until the procession began moving into the cathedral, to clouds of incense and the chant of monkish voices and the distraction of Hubert's ecclesiastical splendor, before he dared the concentration to answer her.
_Remember what they did to Rhysem, right after Javan died? Well, they haven't forgotten how, in six years. Since Rhysem died, I've been bled twice and kept drugged almost continuously. I'm all right for now_ , he added, at her start of fear. _Just weak and a bit groggy. But I don't give myself very good chances if the Kheldour lords don't get here fairly quickly_.
_Might they reach here today?_ she dared to ask.
_It's possible_ , he replied. _I pray God they do_.
The Kheldour lords even then were approaching the city, though they had taken pains at their last stop to disguise their origins. Bishop Ailin now led the company, a scarlet cope sweeping from his shoulders and his pectoral cross hanging outside his black leather brigandine where it might be seen. A steel cap covered with purple leather also proclaimed his rank.
The episcopal knights he had brought from Valoret backed him, wearing blue and gold surcoats with the device of the See of Valoret on their chests. Tieg rode at his knee dressed as a squire, bearing the banner of Ailin's episcopal arms; Queron had resumed the brown Saint Jarlath's habit he wore at Saint Ostrythe's and rode as Ailin's chaplain. Graham and Sighere and their twenty bordermen rode after the episcopal knights in plain harness, telltale tweeds now hidden away in saddlebags and bedrolls, with Father Derfel and Ansel and his few ex-Michaelines interspersed among them. In all they were perhaps fifty strong; not a great many, but with a bishop at their head and Deryni power to back him—though magic must remain a last resort.
Ailin's authority got them into the city by the east gate.
"I'm Ailin MacGregor, Auxiliary Bishop of Valoret," he told the sergeant who challenged them at the gate. "Why is this gate closed? I've been summoned for the conclave to elect the new Archbishop of Rhemuth, and we heard en route that the king has died."
"Aye, that's true, your Grace. They're burying him right about now," the man replied, giving smart salute and signaling for the gates to be opened. "What you maybe hadn't heard is that some kind of rebellion has broken out in Kheldour; that's where the king died. There's some talk that the Kheldour lords had a hand in his death, and that now they're heading south."
"You don't say!" Ailin gasped.
"Oh, I doubt they'll get this far. The Earl of Carthane has taken a couple of hundred crack troops north along the main road to head them off, if they do come. And even if they did, it wouldn't be for several days."
"It sounds as if we're just in time to be useful," Ailin said aside to his "chaplain." "Thank you, Sergeant. _Dominus vobiscum._ "
He lifted his hand in blessing, then kneed his horse forward through the gate as he signaled his men to follow. At his nod, his "chaplain" fell back to pass the word among the men, remaining at the rear as they penetrated deeper into the city.
The city streets were mostly deserted, approaching the cathedral from this direction, for many folk had gone to the cathedral square to catch a glimpse of their new young king. As the bishop's troops clattered over the cobblestones, nearing the square, Ansel broke off his ex-Michaelines and most of the Kheldour contingent to circle around the side while Ailin continued on to meet any official resistance in the square itself. Graham and Sighere remained with Queron and Father Derfel at the rear and kept their heads down, for Sighere's red hair was distinctive, even under a steel cap, though he had sacrificed his bushy red beard and moustache in the interests of passing unremarked.
The square before the cathedral was crowded, but mostly gathered along the side where the royal procession would leave. The great bell in the cathedral tower had begun tolling, signaling that the service inside was coming to a close, and Ailin had his men rein back to a walk as they entered the square.
The twenty _Custodes_ knights who had escorted the royal party from the castle were formed up ready to return, their heads turning with interest at this unexpected arrival, several pointing at the banner Tieg bore. Men in the livery of Lord Ainslie were holding the horses of those inside. Ailin called his captain to his side and muttered something to him, keeping to a walk, then glanced obliquely at Tieg.
"Son, we're going to ride right up to that _Custodes_ captain and brazen this out," he said. "Just stay by my side and don't look surprised at anything I say."
"Aye, sir," Tieg murmured, and silently sent the warning back to Queron as a _Custodes_ officer broke off from his men and trotted out to meet them. He had already spotted Jesse among Ainslie's men.
"MacGregor of Valoret, Captain," Ailin said, before the man could speak. "We're here to relieve you. We met a galloper on the way in, and you're needed up the north road. You can pick up more men at _Arx Fidei_. Apparently the Kheldour lords are, indeed, headed toward Rhemuth."
"You've come from Valoret?" the man said. "But how—"
"We came by the east road, man," Ailin said. "I was summoned for the conclave to elect the new archbishop. We've been on forced march for nearly three days; you know the terrain on the central route. I can't ask these men to turn right around and ride north again. We'll take over your escort duties, and you can go ahead. I'll explain to the great lords."
The captain nodded, clearly reluctant, but not one to question the orders of his superiors.
"The command is yours, then, your Grace. You can move in right behind us. They should only be another quarter hour, at the most. I think they're just now taking the coffin down into the crypt."
Ailin saluted with his riding crop. "Thank you, Captain."
As the _Custodes_ troop rode out, Ailin led the Valoret knights in right behind them, dispersing twenty of them along a long line facing the cathedral steps as soon as the _Custodes_ men had disappeared. Lord Ainslie appeared in a wicket doorway as Ailin and his remaining ten knights dismounted and bade his men take the extra horses out of the way as he saw Sighere and Graham also dismounting, coming to meet them on the steps.
"Is it true?" he asked Sighere, also flicking a glance at Graham but ignoring the others.
For answer, Sighere pulled out his copy of the codicil and handed it to Ainslie, who made one quick scan and handed it back, grinning.
"Your other men are already in position, my lord. God, but it'll be good to have honest regents in this kingdom! Hubert and the royal party just went into the crypt. We've got maybe ten minutes to secure the area before they come out."
"Aye, guid, let's get started," Sighere murmured, already moving them back inside. "Exactly who is in the royal party? By th' by, this is Bishop Ailin MacGregor. Wi'out his help, this wouldnae be possible. Obey his orders as ye would my own; he knows what he's doin'."
Nodding distracted acknowledgment, Ainslie continued on with Sighere and Graham, Queron and Father Derfel also falling in behind them as Ailin began dispersing his knights inside.
"In the royal party," Ainslie said, ticking them off on his fingers: "The queen and the young king, of course; Hubert, Rhun, Manfred, Tammaron, Abbot Secorim—who's been designated as the next Archbishop of Rhemuth, by the way. Cathan and the _Custodes_ knight who guards him—they've done terrible things to him, Sighere. Oh, and four _Custodes_ monks, who carried the coffin into the crypt. I don't think they'll give you much trouble."
"I dinnae think any o' them'll gie us _much_ trouble," Sighere murmured, loosening his sword in its scabbard. "Let's clear th' cathedral an' get a welcoming committee ready, fer when they come oot."
In the cool and quiet of the crypt below, lit by torches and candles, the rite of interment moved toward its conclusion. As the _Custodes_ monks lowered the king's coffin into the sarcophagus prepared for it, Hubert having blessed the place with holy water, Secorim began censing it, the sweet perfume of the incense smoke only slightly masking the charnel smell of the damp crypt, which eventually stretched nearly the length of the cathedral in a series of interlinked chambers.
" _Ego sum resurrectio et vita_ ," Hubert intoned. I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, even if he die, shall live; and whoever lives and believes in me, shall never die...
As Hubert continued with the Canticle of Zachariah, the monks answering him with the antiphon he had begun, Michaela let her thoughts wander—anything to keep from thinking about the slab of marble that Rhun and Manfred and Tammaron and the monks were slowly closing over the sarcophagus, sliding it into place; anything to keep from thinking about the man who lay in the coffin beneath it, whose lifeless body she had never even seen after it came home—
No. She did not want to remember him like that. Not bloodless and forever stilled, the grey eyes forever darkened, wrapped in his winding sheet and sealed in lead inside that coffin, for the long, hot journey back to Rhemuth from the place where he had died. Not with his hand cut from his body—the strong, graceful hand that should have been free to wield his kingship, the hand that often had pleasured—
She closed her eyes and made herself stop _that_ line of remembering at once, briefly lifting one hand from Owain's shoulder to wipe at the tears from under her widow's veil. Owain stood directly before her, comforted within the circle of her arms, tears runneling down his face as he hugged the Papa knight to his breast. Cathan stood on her right, swaying slightly on his feet, the despicable Gallard de Breffni on his other side.
Beyond Rhysem's tomb were the tombs of three other recent Haldane kings: King Cinhil and now all three of his ill-fated sons. The carved effigies atop the tombs showed the occupants at their best, even the sickly Alroy depicted as a hale, handsome youth, cut off in the flower of his young manhood. She wondered how the artists would show Rhysem, who perhaps had been the bravest of them all...
"Dearest brothers and sisters," Hubert murmured, "let us faithfully and lovingly remember our brother Rhys Michael Alister, whom God has taken to Himself from the trials of this world..."
As all of them knelt for the final prayers, Cathan steadied his hand against the edge of Javan's sarcophagus, leaning his forehead against the cool stone.
That Rhysem, too, should have come to this, and so soon, still seemed so very unfair. Such courage should have enabled him to persevere. Would _nothing_ ever break the stranglehold of the old regents? He blamed it partially on old King Cinhil, for having chosen so unwisely. After Cinhil's death, the fortunes of the Haldanes seemed to have sunk in ever-deepening spirals. He had hoped desperately that Rhysem might be the one to restore the Haldanes to their rightful prominence, after seeing Javan's fate; but even in the very best of circumstances, it would be many years before Rhysem's heir, the young Owain, would be ready to take up his father's dream.
" _Kyrie eleison_... _kyrie eleison... Christe eleison... Pater noster_..."
He could feel the leaden weight of his grief pressing on his chest, heightened by his physical weakness and the drugs they had given him, and a part of him tried to yield to blind, disconsolate weeping; but he used the words of the familiar prayers to force himself back to better balance.
Surely all was not yet lost. Friends were coming. Whether they would get here in time to make any difference remained to be seen; and whether Rhysem's last will could be enforced...
" _A porti inferi._ "
" _Erue, Domine, animam eius._ "
From the gate of hell—deliver his soul, O Lord. May he rest in peace... Amen.
" _Domine, exaudi orationem meam_..." Hubert prayed.
And Cathan echoed the prayer in his own intentions. _O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come unto Thee. Avenge him, Lord. His enemies sacrificed him for their own ungodly ambitions, working their evil in Thy name. Strike them down, Lord. Give strength to those who would uphold his will and see his crown freed. Make me Thine instrument, Lord. Use my hands to right the wrongs done here. Please, Lord..._
"O Lord, we implore Thee to grant Thy mercy to this, Thy servant, Rhys Michael Alister, which Thou hast commanded to leave this world," Hubert prayed, in words that shortly made Cathan wonder whether the archbishop realized what he was asking for. "May he who held fast to Thy will by his intentions receive no punishment in return for his deeds, but a place in the land of light and peace, in union with the company of angels in Heaven. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," came the response.
"Thou great and omnipotent Judge of the living and the dead, before Whom we are all to appear after this short life, to render an account of our works. Let our hearts, we pray Thee, be deeply moved at this sight of death, and while we consign the body of Thy servant Rhys Michael Alister to the earth, let us be mindful of our own frailty and mortality, that walking always in Thy fear and in the ways of Thy Commandments, we may, after our departure from this world, experience a merciful judgment and rejoice in everlasting happiness. Amen."
"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord," Secorim said, taking over from Hubert.
"And let perpetual light shine upon him."
"May he rest in peace."
"Amen."
"May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace."
"Amen."
The prayers completed, Hubert crossed himself and lumbered to his feet, pulling himself up against the king's tomb as the others rose. Great George continued tolling in the background. Secorim brought an unlit three-branched candelabrum from a side niche and set it on the tomb slab, and Hubert took up a taper and lit it from one of the torches, beckoning Michaela and Cathan to approach with little Owain.
"You may each light one of the candles, your Highness," he murmured, holding out the taper, "adding your prayers to ours."
Composing herself, Michaela folded her veil back over her crown, then bent to pick up Owain, settling him on her hip as she took the taper from Hubert and lit one of the end candles, then put the taper in his hand and guided him to light the center one.
"God bless Papa," she prompted softly. "Keep him safe with the angels. Amen."
"God bless Papa," Owain repeated dutifully, as she passed the taper to Cathan. "Mummy, angels all around here. They come to bring Papa back?"
The innocent words nearly made Cathan drop the taper, but Michaela only went a little paler and shook her head, not daring to acknowledge the flutter of unseen wings but silently thanking them for their presence—and praying that Hubert would not press the point of whether Owain could actually see angels.
"I don't think angels do that, darling," she whispered, under the murmur of Cathan hastily offering up a prayer of his own to cover for her, his hand shaking as he lit his candle. "Sometimes angels come to comfort us when we're very sad—and your guardian angel is always around when you need him. Maybe Papa's guardian angel came to say good-bye."
Owain frowned, but he had caught the mental warning from his mother not to pursue the subject and instead turned his eyes to the other sarcophagi in the tomb chamber as his mother started to set him down.
"We can go back upstairs now," Hubert said, gesturing toward the stair that led back up to the rear of the nave. "I don't know why the bell hasn't paused, so the years can be tolled."
"Mummy, wait," Owain said, holding back as his mother started to lead him toward the stairs. "Why Papa's place doesn't have a king on it?"
"What?"
He pointed at the other tombs. "Grandpapa Cinhil has a king on his place, an' Uncle Javan, an'—"
"I think he means an effigy," Hubert murmured indulgently, almost smiling as he glanced at the others. "Your Highness, the stonecutters must make one for your papa. They haven't had time yet."
Owain's rosy lips compressed in a pout. "My papa should have a king."
"He shall, I promise you—"
"Should have one _now_!"
"Your Highness, that isn't poss—"
"Mummy—"
"I may be able to solve this," Cathan murmured, coming over to scoop Owain into his arms. "Owain, Owain, listen to me, my brave little man. You mustn't cry. Listen to me."
He whispered in the boy's ear for several minutes, Owain's tears gradually subsiding as he listened, shortly beginning to nod his head.
"So, what do you think?" Cathan finally whispered, drawing back a little. "Would that be all right?"
Gravely Owain nodded. "Papa like that."
"All right. Shall I help you?"
At Owain's nod, Cathan carried him the few steps over to the empty tomb slab, where Owain gravely set his Papa knight in front of the candelabrum, facing the candles.
"My Papa knight is a king," he explained, as Hubert looked at him in question. "See his crown? He stay here until Papa gets a big king."
"But darling, won't you miss the Papa knight?" Michaela asked, taking one of his hands in hers and glancing at Cathan. "If you leave him here, he'll have to stay for quite a white—maybe months. If you miss him in the middle of the night, we can't just come down and get him."
"I still have the Uncle Cathan knight at home," Owain reminded her. "Uncle Cathan take care of me now."
"'Uncle Cathan' may have other things to do," Manfred said under his breath, gesturing for Cathan to put the boy down. "Let's go, Drummond. We've been down here long enough. Gallard, take him upstairs."
Sick at heart, Cathan obeyed. He had eased his young nephew's immediate distress, but how long the regents would let him live to take further care of him remained to be seen. He gave his sister a forlorn glance as she took Owain's hand, but he turned dutifully to accompany Gallard up the stairs as the others fell in behind.
He could see the guard of honor drawn up to attention on either side of the stairwell as they ascended, though he did not remember that Hubert had assigned that many knights of his Valoret garrison. It was only as his shoulders came above the level of the top step and strong hands roughly jerked him and Gallard out of the stairwell, hands clapped over their mouths to stifle outcries, that he saw the longed-for faces among the Valoret men—and knew that the next hour would either see the House of Haldane dead or delivered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.
—Galatians 5:15
Manfred drew back with a shout as Cathan and Gallard were snatched from right in front of him. Cursing, he shrank back from a sword thrust and started pushing back down the stairs as men in Valoret livery swarmed into the stairwell with drawn swords. Rhun had been following directly behind and spun to shoulder past Lior with a shove that nearly sent him tumbling backward, sweeping the queen and Owain back into the crypt and shouting for Tammaron.
Neither he nor Manfred could get their swords clear in the close confines of the stairwell, but the swords came out as soon as they had gained the open space of the crypt floor, whirling to confront the unexpected intruders. Tammaron was waiting to back them, sword also drawn, helping Lior hustle the queen and the young king into the hands of Hubert and Secorim, who drew them roughly behind the screen of the six unarmed _Custodes_ monks.
There Hubert restrained the queen with a hand on her arm and Lior presumed to pick up and hold the frightened Owain. As knights in the surcoats of Valoret began pouring down into the crypt with drawn swords, the _Custodes_ men and their hostages eased farther into the open arch of the next chamber, their three "protectors" on guard before them.
"Throw down your weapons!" shouted one of the Valoret knights, of which there were six. Emerging from the stair behind them came an armored, grey-haired man in a scarlet bishop's cope and purple cap, accompanied by Lord Ainslie and two knights in Ainslie's livery.
"MacGregor!" Hubert thundered, as he recognized his subordinate. "What the _devil_ are you doing? Order those men to put away their swords immediately!"
"I can't do that, your Grace," Ailin said, as his knights fanned across the opening to the stair, interspersing themselves among the tombs. Sighere and Graham quietly joined Ainslie behind him, along with two men in priest's attire. "I am acting under the orders of lawful regents of Gwynedd."
" _I_ am a lawful regent of Gwynedd," Hubert said haughtily. "Furthermore, I am your religious superior. You swore me a vow of obedience."
"I also swore to uphold the king and his laws—which includes lawfully executed decrees issued in his name." In his hand that wore the bishop's ring he held up an unfolded parchment document bearing a splotch of crimson sealing wax. "I believe that at least Lord Rhun has seen this in draft. This copy was duly signed and witnessed; I can produce the witness. Another like it has already been recorded in the cathedral archives at Valoret. It appoints Graham of Claibourne and Sighere of Marley as regents of Gwynedd. They have some questions to ask the _other_ regents of Gwynedd, who were directly responsible for the death of the late king."
"That's a lie!" Manfred blustered, gesturing with his sword. "Who dares to say that?"
"I do, my lord." Queron stepped from behind Ailin, hands folded in the sleeves of his brown habit. "And the king himself said it, in his deathbed confession—after having been bled _four times_ in less than a day. The operations were carried out by a _Custodes_ monk called Brother Polidorus, but the king was quite clear that one Manfred MacInnis gave the order. And Rhun of Horthness acquiesced."
"I didn't!" Rhun blurted. "It was Polidorus who wanted it, and Lior—and they had me drugged when I tried to stop them. Ask anyone who was there. The king himself would tell you that, if he were here."
"It is precisely because he is _not_ here that we are having this conversation, my lord!" Ailin said sharply. "These are extremely serious allegations—"
"Serious _lies_!" Lior said breathlessly, as Owain started to squirm in his arms. "Certainly, the king was bled—in accordance with accepted medical practice. His hand was festering; he was racked with fever. When the bleeding did not relieve him, it became clear that the hand would have to come off. Unfortunately, he did not survive the shock of the surgery."
"The king had both his hands when he died," Queron said quietly. "Shall I lay _my_ hand on his grave and swear it?"
"Who is that man?" Secorim demanded of Lior.
"Tell him, Father," Ailin said, before Lior could answer. "Tell him how you brought in Father Donatus to hear the king's last confession, because you and your clergy had placed yourselves in such ill repute that the king would rather risk his immortal soul by dying unshriven than receive the last sacraments from any _Custodes_ priest."
"And is this priest any better?" Manfred said, pointing with his sword. "Can we trust any part of his testimony? What good is the word of a priest who breaks the seal of the confessional?"
"What good, indeed?" Ailin said softly. "Except that the king gave Father Donatus leave to reveal what he had been told, to bring his murderers to justice. Therefore, the seal has not been broken."
"That is not for you to decide!" Hubert said angrily, thrusting the queen into Secorim's grasp as he moved a few steps forward. "You have no authority here—or in any other place!" He stabbed a trembling forefinger at his subordinate.
"Ailin MacGregor, I hereby suspend you from your office and command you, on pain of excommunication, to withdraw these hostile forces from this place and submit yourself to canonical discipline. How _dare_ you presume to judge these men?"
"'Tis _I_ who presume tae judge them, Archbishop," Duke Graham said mildly, setting his hands on his sword belt as he moved beside Ailin. Sighere also stepped forward on Ailin's other side, burly arms crossed on his chest. "As both regent an' duke in this kingdom, I hae the power o' high an' low justice, an' authority tae hear evidence an' render judgment. I charge you, Manfred MacInnis, Earl o' Culdi, an' you, Rhun o' Horthness, Earl o' Sheele, with high treason an' sacrilegious murder—"
"I don't recognize your authority to try me!" Manfred said contemptuously.
"I further find ye guilty o' these crimes an' declare yer lives forfeit," Graham continued. "Throw doon yer arms. Ye cannae escape. An' I wouldnae profane this holy place with yer blood—though 'twould be a fittin' end, here before the tomb o' the king whose sacred blood ye spilled."
" _Several_ kings," Sighere added softly. "King Javan also died beneath the blades o' traitors."
Not a soul dared to move. Into the taut, expectant silence that settled after Sighere's words, not a sound intruded save the harsh breathing of the cornered men, Owain's muted protests as he struggled again in Lior's arms, and a single, stifled sob from Michaela. Then, to everyone's surprise, Rhun contemptuously tossed his sword to the floor, where its clangor reverberated through the stone chamber. He reached next to the dagger at his belt.
"Rhun, what are you doing?" Manfred demanded, gaping at him in astonishment, his sword slowly sinking at his side.
Even as he asked it, Rhun spun to plunge his dagger into Manfred's chest, ripping upward as he wrenched it out. Blood gushed from Manfred's mouth even as Michaela screamed and one of the Valoret knights started forward, but Rhun was already elbowing his way through the line of _Custodes_ monks and grappling Owain from Lior's arms. He slashed the blade across the side of Lior's neck when the priest tried to stop him, bundling the struggling Owain under his arm and sprinting back along the vaulted chambers of the crypt. At the same time, a wild-eyed Tammaron roughly seized the queen by one arm and whirled her in front of him like a shield, laying his sword across her throat from behind.
When Cathan was snatched from the steps to the crypt, his immediate impulse to fight for his life died at once as he recognized Sir Robert Ainslie as his "captor," with other familiar faces of Lord Ainslie's levy pouring into the stairwell to back up those who had followed Bishop Ailin and his men into the crypt. And as Robert released him, though supporting him when his weakness would have made him collapse, he saw that no less a benefactor than his cousin Ansel had Gallard de Breffni in protesting custody, straddling his bent form and twisting one arm up behind him while his other hand clamped over his mouth to prevent him crying out.
"Kill him _now_!" Cathan gasped, eyes wide as he clung to Robert.
"You're sure?" Ansel said, very matter-of-factly.
"He helped hold Rhysem while they bled him," Cathan said, numbly shaking his head to force back the memory. "He's killed many others, over the years. And he would have killed me. Kill him."
Gallard had heard his death sentence and tried anew to struggle free, but the end was quick. Ansel's hands moved almost too quickly to see, twisting the man's head to one side and back with a sharp wrench and a soft, sickening crack. Then Ansel was letting the limp body sag to the floor, wiping his hands across his thighs, already turning to peer urgently down the stairwell. Cathan fought the gorge rising in his throat as another man calmly began dragging Gallard's body out of the way, and looked around gratefully as young Tieg was suddenly at his side, helping Robert ease him to a sitting position against the support of a thick stone pillar.
"I was warned you'd be in pretty bad shape," the young Healer murmured, slipping his hands to either side of Cathan's head. "Let me see you. I think I can help."
It was an order, not a request. A sudden sensation of vertigo made Cathan gasp and close his eyes, perception briefly blurred. Then someone was tipping his head back, pressing something against his lips.
"I want you to swallow this for me," Tieg's voice said softly, as a cool, minty liquid slid down his throat. "That's it. Again. I came prepared for several things they might have given you; this should clear your head and give you a jolt of energy in a minute or two. Your blood loss isn't serious, but the fatigue is. I can counter that temporarily. Just relax."
Cathan was somewhat aware of Tieg's mental touch this time, just before a wave of utter lethargy overcame him, but when he opened his eyes, he could almost imagine that the events of the past few days had never happened, at least so far as his body was concerned. He could feel his head clearing even as Robert helped him sit up, though Tieg was still monitoring with a hand clasped around one wrist.
"Cathan, come over here," Ansel called to him softly, from over nearer the stairwell. Around them and farther back in the cathedral, men in plain brigandines were helping Lord Ainslie's men clear the building. There were a few _Custodes_ bodies here and there, but mostly people were more than willing to leave a place that suddenly had become an unknown battle zone. As Cathan scrambled over to join his half-brother, the great cathedral bell suddenly stopped ringing.
"Good," Ansel whispered. "Someone finally got to the bell platform. Now, who, exactly, is down there besides Mika and the boy?"
Cathan peered down the stairwell. He could only see the backs of Graham and Sighere and Father Derfel, but he pictured the others in his mind's eye, as they had stood during the prayers beside Rhysem's grave.
"Manfred, Rhun, and Tammaron are armed," he replied. "There are six _Custodes_ monks who might have weapons under their robes—knives, maybe. And Hubert and Secorim and Lior. What are they doing?"
"Talking. Arguing." Ansel motioned for one of Lord Ainslie's captains, who came to crouch beside him. "Is there another exit from the crypt?"
"Aye, m'lord. Up to the left of the high altar."
"Any other ways out of the cathedral, besides the main doors and the way I came in?"
"A side door in the south transept, leading into the cathedral close—to the Chapter House, and the archbishop's residence and such. Another door from the sacristy, that also goes—"
From the crypt below came a clang of steel against stone, then the sounds of scuffling and a chorus of exclamations and shouts.
"Rhun has the king!" an anguished shout came from the bowels of the crypt. "He's headed toward the other end! Don't let him get away!"
Cathan was already taking off down the nave, his useless sword hanging against his legs until he steadied it with a hand, praying he would be in time—for Rhun, with his deeds now known and his life already forfeit, had no reason to spare any Haldane, even a four-year-old one.
In the crypt, Michaela trembled against her captor, trying only weakly to twist around to see where Rhun had taken her child, for Tammaron's fingers dug into her shoulder like iron, and the steel of his sword was pressed hard against her throat. Manfred was dead in a smear of his own blood on the floor before them, an expression of astonishment etched indelibly on his bloodless face, and two of the _Custodes_ monks were trying in vain to stanch Lior's wound. The Valoret knights had started forward the instant Rhun stabbed Manfred, but Sighere had called them back sharply as soon as Tammaron seized the queen.
They stood well back now, swords lowered, glancing uneasily at Sighere for direction as he raised both hands toward Tammaron in a placating gesture. Graham had immediately yielded command to his more experienced uncle, shoving Father Derfel back up the stairs to safety, and Ailin was urgently waving back men who would have come down in Derfel's place, frantic not to do anything to trigger further violence on Tammaron's part. Queron had ducked down behind one of the tombs, now hidden from Tammaron's sight and hopefully forgotten in the confusion.
Tammaron looked around wildly at the force arrayed against him, slowly retreating with the queen toward the arch where Rhun had disappeared with the king.
"Just stay back! All of you, stay back!"
"Tammaron, are you mad?" Hubert gasped, backed up against one of the tombs, the china blue eyes wide and horrified. "She carries the next heir!"
"She carries the last Haldane king!" Tammaron replied, hysteria in his voice. "And I'll kill her and the child in her womb before I'll let myself be given over to a traitor's death."
"Tammaron, ye cannae mean tae do this," Sighere murmured, inching closer. "Killin' a pregnant woman is no in yer nature. An' what guid would it do ye, if ye did sich a deed? They'll tak the young king fra' Rhun. Ye cannae escape. It's o'er."
Nodding, wild-eyed, Tammaron inched that much closer to the arch. "Oh, it will be over, all right. I've finally figured it out. The lad is no true prince and therefore no true king—unless a MacInnis dynasty is to replace the Haldane one. Hubert, did your brother ever tell you about that?"
"Wha' d'ye mean?" Graham demanded, as Hubert's jaw gaped.
"Ask the queen," Tammaron said, leaning closer to her ear as the flat of his blade caressed her throat. "What was the threat we made to the king after his coronation, your Highness, to ensure that you and he started producing Haldane heirs?"
"Sweet _Jesu_ , no," she whispered, for she knew full well to what he was referring and that it could not possibly be true.
"It was only known among the Five," Tammaron confided, "that if he did not do his duty, there were ample volunteers to deputize for him."
"No!" she sobbed.
"But the king was stubborn, and Manfred must have gotten tired of waiting. He would have drugged the wine one night. I trust I can leave further details to your imagination?"
Deep in trance, behind the tomb where he hid, Queron Read Tammaron's truth and knew he lied.
"It isn't true!" Michaela sobbed.
"She isn't to blame," Tammaron went on. "She never knew. None of us knew until Manfred came back with the king's body. But why else do you think he let the king be killed, when he knew the codicil existed? Because he knew that the king's death would put his own bastard on the throne! It's Owain MacInnis that Rhun's taken out of here."
_It isn't, Mika_ , Queron's mind spoke in Michaela's. _It's Owain Haldane, and you know it. Could Manfred's bastard have assumed the Haldane potential? Tammaron's every word is a lie, the fabrication of a madman, and you're the only one who can stop him, and refute the lie_.
_How?_
Under cover of the mutterings and shiftings of feet that accompanied Tammaron's incredible revelation, Queron eased closer to the appalled Bishop Ailin, a part of his mind reaching out to controls he had set before, seeing through Ailin's eyes as his dialog continued with Michaela.
_Kill him, Mika. You're the only one who can, before he kills you_ — _and destroys your other son by killing his good name_.
_I don't know how_ , came her numb reply. _Queron, can't you_ — _?_
_I can't touch him, because I never_ have _touched him_ , Queron sent back sharply. _But you're right there, with his arms around you and his sword at your throat, as close as a lover's kiss. You have the power. All you have to do is reach out with your mind..._
_I can't_ —
_I'm going to set a scenario through Bishop Ailin. No one will suspect there's been magic. Just follow his lead_.
"Tammaron, you're a liar," Ailin said coldly. "That's the most ridiculous accusation I've ever heard. One only has to look at the boy to see that he's true Haldane."
"He's a bastard," Tammaron repeated. "He's Manfred's bastard, and he'll never sit on the throne. Rhun will see to that—and _I'll_ kill the true heir before he can ever be born, if you don't give me safe conduct out of here with the queen."
"An' what then?" Sighere demanded. "D'ye think ye could rule as regent, after this? Ye might have possession o' the bairn, but that's no all that makes a king."
"I'll be regent, or there'll be no one to be regent _for_ ," Tammaron muttered, shifting back another step with the queen, his blade still pressed hard against her throat. "I'll kill her—I swear I will."
"That you will not," Ailin said quietly. "God will not suffer this to happen."
"Will He not?"
"His wrath will fall upon you, Tammaron. The Haldanes are beloved of the Lord, divinely appointed."
"Pious propaganda, Bishop."
"If you harm one hair on the head of the queen, who carries one of His chosen kings, you will die."
"You can't know that!" Hysteria tinged the voice again, and the eyes had gone wide with fear.
"You will die!" Ailin repeated, stabbing an index finger at the quaking earl. "You commit sacrilege by even laying hand on the queen, especially in this place. God will strike you down, Tammaron! You will die!"
_Now, Mika!_ Queron sent. _Reach your mind into his chest, and clasp his heart_.
Suddenly her focus came. She knew how to do it. But to take a life—
_Do it, Mika—for Owain, for Rhysem, for Javan, for the child you carry. He deserves to die. It's an execution_.
_An execution_...
Closing her eyes, as if she grew faint, she turned her mind to what must be done, reaching out, feeling the tendrils of thought curl around his heart.
"You will die, Tammaron!" she heard Ailin repeat.
And as she closed the fist of her thought, he did.
Cathan pounded down the nave, his sword banging against his legs, Ansel and half a dozen of his men right on his heels. Tieg's drug and his spell permitted the exertion, but Cathan knew he would pay, if he survived whatever he must do to stop Rhun. He and his pursuing band approached the transept crossing just in time to see Rhun burst from the other entrance to the crypt and dash toward the north transept, an indignantly struggling Owain under one arm and a bloody dagger in his free hand. Rhun cursed as he saw the would-be rescuers and disappeared into the transept, but when Cathan reached the spot, Rhun was nowhere to be seen.
"God damn, where did he go?" Ansel gasped, looking around wildly as his men fanned into the transept to begin searching in side chapels and behind pillars and piers, and Cathan stared mutely at the deserted transept.
From back up the nave, Robert came bounding breathlessly to a halt beside Cathan, also casting a glance around.
"He killed Manfred and wounded Lior, and Tammaron's got the queen."
"And Rhun's got the king," Cathan murmured. "But _where_?"
"Not here, m'lord," one of Ansel's men called, as Ansel himself poked under altar cloths with his sword, more and more frantic, and others also called out, "Nothing here."
But Cathan's attention had been suddenly diverted to a burly man investigating a little door standing ajar in the main support pier, at the northwest corner of the crossing. He was already trotting toward it with Robert, tugging at his sword belt, his eyes searching the arched colonnade of the triforium level high above, whose narrow access walk looked to run all around the transept and back along the length of the nave.
"Up there?" Robert asked, following his gaze, accepting the sheathed sword that Cathan thrust into his hands and surrendering his dagger—for Cathan had none of his own. The man investigating the doorway backed out at Cathan's approach, for his bulk had already prevented him from going any farther.
"He's mine," Cathan murmured, peering upward, hefting the dagger as he pressed past the fellow and set his foot on the first of the narrow treads.
The little spiral stair was very steep and very narrow, only dimly lit by occasional slits that looked down into the cathedral, invisible amid the carving that adorned the vast supporting pier. From somewhere above him, Cathan could hear the scrabble of booted feet and an occasional whimper, magnified by the sounding column of the tunnel of stone he climbed.
He was breathing hard by the time he reached the level of the triforium walk and cautiously poked his head out of the little stair to look left and right. There was no one in the long stretch of narrow colonnade that extended west along the nave, but just where the transept walk turned to cross the north transept end, he caught just a glimpse of moving black shadow. He launched himself in that direction, scrabbling half-sideways in the narrow passage, his dagger held along his thigh, straining for some further glimpse of Rhun and Owain.
He reached the northwest corner; they were waiting for him in the northeast corner, Owain sitting in one of the arched openings of the colonnade with his legs dangling over the edge, his back against Rhun's chest, Rhun's blade at his throat. He had lost his cap and coronet in the scuffle. He looked more affronted than afraid, but Cathan's heart sank at the thought of the forty- or fifty-foot drop below him, onto the unyielding marble mosaic of the floor below.
"You're very troublesome, Drummond," Rhun said, as Cathan began cautiously moving across the north end of the transept. "I should have killed you years ago, when I had the chance."
"Aye, you should've done," Cathan replied, trying to catch his breath, hoping he could keep Rhun talking while he figured out what he was going to do.
Something was not right about this scene, not right about how Rhun had acted down in the crypt. Manfred and Rhun had been close friends, despite their difference over whether to kill Rhysem. Part of that difference undoubtedly had been caused by Rhysem himself, as a result of the compulsions he finally had dared to set—subtle compulsions, that would not require Rhun to act too far out of character, lest someone suspect Deryni interference.
Until today. What happened in the crypt had been totally out of character. And it was not the first time, though it was the most blatant. The old Rhun would have had no qualms about having Rhysem bled to death, if it would further his power as a regent—but Rhun had tried to prevent it.
And then Cathan began to make the connection. It had to stem from that night when Rhysem had told Rhun of the codicil, to keep from being bled; and afterward, seizing the opportunity to take control of Rhun at last, he had spent quite a long time working deep in Rhun's mind. He had never revealed to Cathan precisely what he had done; but nothing he had ordered could possibly have permitted killing Owain.
"Rhun, you can't kill the boy," Cathan whispered, now certain he was on the right track. "You can't kill him. The king forbade you to let _him_ come to harm, and you know he meant that for his son as well."
Rhun's eyes darted to the boy's black hair, just under his chin, at the little legs dangling over the parapet, at the blade along the boy's throat.
"Pull him in and let him go, Rhun," Cathan whispered "What was it the king ordered you to do? Did he tell you to kill the other regents when you got the chance?"
Rhun looked at him sharply, bewilderment suddenly in his eyes.
"I—killed Manfred. I didn't want to, but—I had to."
"But, didn't he deserve to die? He kept you from saving the king, when the _Custodes_ decided to bleed him to death."
"I—I tried to stop them," Rhun whispered.
"I know. I was there. I couldn't stop them either."
Rhun swallowed, nervously turning the dagger against Owain's throat. Somehow the boy knew to keep very still and very quiet. Cathan wondered how much he understood of what he was hearing. Far below, a crowd was gathering, upturned faces white and anxious—Ansel, Robert, Lord Ainslie, Sighere, and Graham—all of them very quiet, bunching together beneath where Owain dangled, to try to break his fall if Rhun let go.
"You can stop _this_ , Rhun, even though we couldn't stop the other," Cathan went on softly. "The boy doesn't have to die. If you let him live, God will not forget."
"I'll be already damned," Rhun whispered, turning his face away, knuckles whitening on the hilt of the dagger. And suddenly Cathan guessed what Rhysem's last instruction had been to Rhun.
"Rhun, did the king order you to kill yourself, after you'd killed as many of the other regents as you could?"
Rhun hugged the boy closer, burying his face in the black hair, the knife hand going farther around his neck, the blade no longer touching flesh.
"My own boy is ten," Rhun whispered. "I would have liked to see him grown up."
_So would Rhysem_ , Cathan thought to himself, though he only said, "It's difficult for a boy without a father. I—hope to be a father to Owain. If you'll let me."
Slowly Rhun lifted his head to look at Cathan, a flash of the old cunning rekindling in his gaze.
"I might just give you that chance," he said softly. "There would be a price, of course."
"Name it."
Rhun compressed his lips, considering, then pulled the boy back in from the parapet and set him on the floor in front of him, though the dagger remained near his throat, his other hand firmly on the boy's shoulder.
"You claim to serve the king's justice, do you not?"
Cathan nodded, wondering whether he dared try to grab Owain and yank him to safety before Rhun could cut his throat.
"And the king's justice demands my death, doesn't it, even though I've saved you having to execute Manfred and Lior?"
Again Cathan nodded.
"Well, I won't kneel down at the block or put my neck through a noose. I won't be taken, but I _will_ try to take you with me. That's my price, if I let the boy go."
Cathan drew a deep breath, knowing he must accept but wondering whether he had any chance at all. Tieg's drag and spell were still working strongly in him, and he was half Rhun's age—which should make him quicker—but Rhun's extra years were years of experience, and Rhun outweighed him considerably, none of it flab.
"Let him go," he said evenly.
Smiling the old Rhun smile, the earl pulled Owain around behind him and gave him a shove.
"Get back out of the way, son," he said. "Uncle Cathan and Uncle Rhun are going to fight."
Cathan knew he was outclassed as soon as they closed. After Rhun blooded him the second time, he knew he was going to lose. He fought gamely on, though, because he had no choice; because there was always a chance that Rhun might make a mistake. But he never did.
Ducking to avoid a particularly vicious thrust, Cathan recoiled so hard that part of the stone colonnade gave way, opening a gap nearly as long as a man and sending debris raining over the edge to shatter on the marble below, scattering the onlookers. Cathan nearly followed it, but Rhun caught his sleeve and yanked him around to face another vicious upthrust, only just parried.
An immediate counterattack drew his blood again, more seriously than the previous two times. He tripped and went down, sprawled on his back and precariously near the edge—and Rhun was suddenly on top of him, driving his dagger toward Cathan's throat as Cathan tried desperately to block it, to slow it, his own knife hand pinned by Rhun's.
Except that suddenly Rhun's hand was releasing his knife hand, shifting to grab a handful of his hair and jerk his head back to expose his throat. Most incredibly, it left Cathan's knife free to thrust upward unimpeded, directly under the arm, full to the hilt.
Somehow Rhun did not even seem surprised. He made no sound save a faint, bubbling gasp. His whole body tensed, as if trying to arch away from the blade, but a faint smile curved at his lips as the blade poised at Cathan's throat fell from nerveless fingers, and his other hand relaxed its grip on Cathan's hair, the light dying in his eyes as his full weight collapsed across Cathan's chest.
For a few heart-pounding seconds Cathan merely lay there, hardly daring to breathe, astonished both at what Rhun had done and that he himself was still alive. When, at length, he summoned the strength to try to shift free from under Rhun's weight, he had to push the body toward the edge, for the wall was close along his right side. The shift of weight pulled the body over—one leg was already over the edge—to fall like a sack of feed to the floor far below.
As Cathan rolled breathlessly onto his side to look down at the men crowding around the body, Owain came running to him with a squeal of relief, to fling his arms around his neck and bury his little face against Cathan's chest without regard to Rhun's blood.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
And those which remain shall hear, and fear, and shall henceforth commit no more any such evil among you.
—Deuteronomy 19:20
With only Hubert left alive of the original regents who had set out to make puppets of Gwynedd's kings more than a decade before, the two regents appointed at such cost by the late king immediately set about consolidating a new regency that would provide responsible guidance for the king's young heir as he grew into manhood. They chose to ignore any element of magic that might have contributed to Tammaron's sudden death—or if they did not precisely ignore it, they imputed such intervention to the priest calling himself Donatus, who melted away into the confusion even as Bishop Ailin exhorted thanksgiving for God's mercy—and simultaneously secured his own place in Gwynedd's future. Obedient to the late king's instruction, Graham of Claibourne and Sighere of Marley summoned Sir Cathan Drummond back to the crypt and took his oath as regent on the very tomb of his late brother-in-law. His sister looked on in joy and relief, and his young nephew held the Papa knight in witness—though he left it on the tomb when they headed back to the castle, for he still thought it proper that his father should have a king on his tomb like his grandfather and his uncles.
Archbishop Hubert MacInnis was taken into custody and eventually tried before the same council of bishops that soon suspended him from office and eventually confirmed Ailin MacGregor as his successor. As Archbishop and Primate, Ailin gained an immediate seat on the new Regency Council, to the great satisfaction of his fellow regents. One of his first acts as archbishop was to quietly bring back Bishop Dermot O'Beirne as his auxiliary in Valoret—for it was Dermot who had kept the lines of communication open during those years of planning for the crown's liberation from the great lords. Ailin dared not restore the Deryni Niallan, but those Deryni aware of Ailin's courage in even bringing back Dermot slept a little easier in their beds in the years that followed.
The outcome of Hubert's trial was rather less satisfying. Though most of his fellow bishops quickly became convinced of his treason, as the evidence mounted, they were loath to sully the titles and office he had borne by turning him over to secular authorities for certain execution—though several felt execution far too lenient. In the end, he was banished to close confinement in a distant religious house whose name and location were never made public, there to submit himself to a regimen of fasting and penance from which there was no earthly appeal, allowed no human contact save with a confessor and certain spiritual directors. He died in his bed within the year—peacefully, it was said, nearly half his former weight and bulk—never having repented any of his deeds.
Of the _Custodes Fidei_ implicated by Cathan in the king's murder, only two came to trial. After a hearing before the bishops, Brother Polidorus and Father Magan were handed over to a secular court, tried, convicted, and eventually hanged; Lior had escaped trial by dying of the wound dealt him by Rhun.
Master Stevanus would have been pardoned, but was found to have died while in retreat at the Order's Mother House in Ramos, the result of overzealous indulgence in certain privations and disciplines customary within the Order—voluntary, of course, or so the abbot said. Four _Custodes_ knights who had gone into retreat at about the same time also died under curious circumstances, but the abbot similarly declined to discuss the causes, invoking the confidentiality of the confessional to justify his silence. The abbey at Ramos was dissolved, its abbot given into the custody of the spiritually sound _Ordo Verbi Dei_ for rehabilitation; the rest of the Ramos brethren were dispersed to the remaining houses of the Order.
The _Custodes_ abbey at Rhemuth suffered a similar fate. Its former abbot, Father Secorim, expecting momentary confirmation as archbishop, was happy to settle for the auxiliary bishop's post under the circumstances, gladly giving his obedience to Alfred of Woodbourne, who had always been the previous archbishop's choice as successor. Cathan was dubious about letting Secorim remain at all, but nothing could be proven against him other than ill judgment in his choice of associates; and Secorim argued fairly eloquently that he could hardly be held responsible for being singled out by his previous superior for favor.
With the bishops' promotion of Secorim came their farthest-reaching decisions about the _Ondo Custodum Fidei_. Though they did not demand its total dissolution, the Order's ecclesiastical knights were disbanded and forbidden to re-form. To replace Paulin, the bishops designated the office of chancellor-general henceforth to hold the governing of the Order and confirmed Father Marcus Concannon in that office, charging him to refocus the Order to more accurately reflect their original purpose as guardians of the Faith.
To that end the Order would be permitted to retain its schools and other institutions of education. More particularly, _Arx Fidei_ and the several other seminaries under its aegis were to continue; for on sober reflection, the current generation of the Church's hierarchy remained unconvinced that Deryni should be permitted priestly or episcopal authority, notwithstanding the more moderate opinions of Ailin and Dermot. Though many other of the Statutes of Ramos were rescinded in the months and years to follow, those laws forbidding the priesthood to Deryni were to remain in force for another two centuries, even when other excessively restrictive statutes against the Deryni eventually began to be ignored.
In the secular realm, the new Regency Council of Gwynedd likewise set about the necessary housecleaning. Lord Ainslie and his son Robert were appointed to the council by summer's end. Robert also married his "Liesel," thereby ensuring a quiet Deryni presence at Court for the foreseeable future. Sir Fulk Fitz-Arthur was recalled from his brother's court at Cassan, testified at the trials of the king's murderers, and was appointed a royal equerry in time to attend on the young king at his coronation in September. None of the other heirs of the former great lords were retained in royal service, but neither did they suffer the attainder and confiscation of their estates that might have followed on the crimes of their fathers. Harsher reprisals might have been more prudent.
Young Owain Haldane was crowned on Michaelmas, the sixth anniversary of his father's coronation and what would have been his father's twenty-second birthday, on the first day of a weeklong celebration the likes of which had not been seen since the coronation of his Uncle Alroy, more than a decade before. Neither Torenth nor Tolan sent an envoy, but the ten-year-old Duke of Cassan came with his parents to pledge his fealty to the new king, embarking upon a friendship with his new liege lord that would become both famous and tragic in years to come.
Richard Murdoch declined to attend, pleading indisposition, but most of the other heirs of the former great lords came and at least paid lip service to the new king and his regents. The coronation was also witnessed by many of the remaining heirs of Saint Camber, though none came openly, for the laws of Ramos were still in force. Not for nearly two centuries would so many Deryni again set foot in Rhemuth Cathedral.
Almost three months after Owain's coronation, on a snowy Saint Stephen's Day morn—seventh anniversary of the day a Haldane prince had led his new bride before the high altar to have their wedding vows made public—Gwynedd's widowed queen came privately to Rhemuth Cathedral, gowned and cloaked in black, heavily pregnant with the child her dead husband would never see. Atop her widow's veil she wore the silver coronet her husband had placed on her head on that long-ago day, and her hands bore a circlet of holly and ivy like her wedding wreath. Only her brother, her young son, and Archbishop Ailin accompanied her as she made her way into the crypt where half a year before they had laid her husband to rest in a featureless tomb.
"Mummy, look, there's a king in Papa's place!" Owain cried, as they reached the bottom of the steps.
She smiled as her son raced over to the tomb, which now bore a recumbent, life-sized figure carved out of warm alabaster, the raiment painted in bold heraldic colors—crimson and gold and sable. Owain had grown a hand-span in the last six months, but he still had to crane to see, stretching determinedly on tiptoes and trying to pull himself up until Cathan came to his rescue. He laughed with delight to see his Papa knight standing guard just at the figure's shoulder, and he retrieved it from its lonely vigil and clutched it to his breast as he gazed with satisfaction at the alabaster face, feasting his eyes on the crown, the sweep of crimson robe with the Haldane lion painted on the breast, and the carved sword lying quiet and potent under the folded hands.
"It looks like Papa," Owain whispered, his grey eyes shining. "Papa has a proper king now, just like Grandpapa Cinhil and Uncle Javan and Uncle Alroy. Take me to see them, too, Uncle Cathan. I want to see if they're as fine as my papa's."
Nodding his agreement, Cathan took him over to look at his grandfather's effigy, urging him to bow his head and say a prayer as his mother moved closer to her husband's tomb and Archbishop Ailin hung back to give her privacy. There was a _prie-dieu_ on the other side, and she went to it and eased her ponderous body onto its cushioned kneeler, bowing her head over the bridal wreath for a moment before reaching out a hand to rest on his.
It was a good likeness. His face had never been so still or stern in life, but the black hair beneath the carved crown framed a visage undoubtedly Haldane. A glint of red and gold peeped from the hair at his right ear, and the sculptor had carved the Haldane brooch at his throat as well. She let her fingers feel the sleek coolness of it, shifting then to lightly brush an alabaster cheek.
_My Rhysem_ , she spoke to him in her heart. _It's a fitting tribute. I wish they'd let you be the king you wanted to be. I wish_ —
But it did no good to wish. All the wishing in the world could not bring him back. Rhys Michael Alister Haldane was dead, but his hopes and dreams must live on in the boy leaning down to pat the carved hand of another King of Gwynedd, the martyred Javan. Perhaps they would live as well in the other son she carried beneath her heart.
She smiled and laid a hand protectively on her abdomen, then set the wreath of holly and ivy on the folded hands of the effigy.
_Sleep in peace, my darling_ , she whispered in her mind, as she touched her fingertips to her lips and then to his, in gentler farewell than circumstances had allowed the last time she left him here. _You gave me your love and your Haldane princes to mold into kings. With God's grace, the Haldane crown that you died to free will remain free upon Haldane brows for as long as there is a Gwynedd. God keep you, my love_.
She smiled as her son came running back to hug her, and had a smile, too, for Cathan and the archbishop as they gave ready hands to lead her out of that place of death and into a more hopeful future.
APPENDIX I
INDEX OF CHARACTERS*
AGATHA—a maid at Rhemuth Castle.
AGNES Murdoch, Lady—wife of Rhun of Horthness, Earl of Sheele, and daughter of Murdoch of Carthane.
AILIN MacGregor, Bishop—Hubert's Auxiliary Bishop at Valoret.
AINSLIE, Lord—a royal commissioner.
AINSLIE, Sir Robert—son of Lord Ainslie.
ALBERTUS, Lord—Grand Master of the _Equites Custodum Fidei_ ; formerly Peter Sinclair, Earl of Tarleton; brother of Paulin of Ramos and father of Bonner Sinclair, the present earl; Earl Marshal of Gwynedd.
ALFRED of Woodbourne, Bishop—Auxiliary Bishop of Rhemuth; onetime confessor to King Cinhil.
ALISTER Cullen, Bishop—Deryni former Vicar-General of the Order of Saint Michael; Bishop of Grecotha and Chancellor of Gwynedd under King Cinhil; briefly, Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd; alternate identity of Camber MacRorie.*
ALROY Bearand Brion Haldane, King—King of Gwynedd 917–921; elder twin of King Javan.*
ANGELICA, Mother—a midwife at Lochalyn.
ANSEL Irial MacRorie, Lord—grandson of Camber and a prime mover in the resistance against the former regents.
ARIELLA of Festil, Princess—slain (905) elder sister of the late King Imre and mother of his son, Mark or Marek.*
ARION of Torenth, King—Deryni King of Torenth and elder brother of Prince Miklos and Princess Charis.
ASCELIN, Father—a _Custodes_ priest.
BONNER Sinclair, Lord—Earl of Tarleton; son of Lord Albertus and nephew of the Abbot-Bishop Paulin.
BORG—an archer in service of Manfred.
CAMBER Kyriell MacRorie, Saint—Deryni former Earl of Culdi; father of Joram and Evaine, grandfather of Rhysel and Tieg; canonized as Saint Camber in 906; sainthood rescinded by Council of Ramos in 917.
CAMLIN (Camber Allin) MacLean—young kinsman of Camber who survived crucifixion at Trurill now part of Joram's underground.
CASHEL Murdoch, Sir—younger son of Murdoch of Carthane.
CATHAN Drummond, Sir—brother of Michaela and half-brother to Ansel; junior aide to Rhys Michael.
CHARIS, Princess—wife of Marek of Festil and mother of his son and heir.*
CHARLAN Kai Morgan, Sir—former squire and principal aide to King Javan, slain at his side in 922.*
CINHIL Donal Ifor Haldane, King—late King of Gwynedd (904–917); father of Alroy, Javan, and Rhys Michael.*
CLOYCE de Clarendon, Sir—a _Custodes_ knight.
COLUMCILLE, Father—a priest at Lochalyn.*
CONCANNON, Father Marcus— _Custodes_ chancellor-general in charge of seminary training for Gwynedd.*
CORBAN Howell, Lord—husband of Stacia of Eastmarch.
CORIS, Sir Sean—see _Sean Coris, Sir_.
COSIM—Miklos' personal physician/Healer.
CULLEN, Bishop Alister—see _Alister Cullen_.
CUSTODES FIDEI— _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ , the Guardians of the Faith; religious Order founded by Paulin of Ramos to replace the Michaelines and reform ecclesiastical education in Gwynedd for the exclusion of Deryni. Mandate later extended to ferret out and eliminate Deryni by whatever means.
DAITHI, Father—a _Custodes_ priest at Rhemuth; official King's Chaplain after Father Faelan.
DECLAN Carmody—a slain Deryni.*
DE COURCY—see _Etienne_ and _Guiscard de Courcy_.
DEINIOL, Brother—assistant to Brother Polidorus.
DERFEL, Father—chaplain at Lochalyn Castle.
DERYNI (Der-ín-ee)—racial group gifted with paranormal/supernatural powers and abilities feared by many humans.
DIMITRI, Master—Deryni agent in Paulin's service.
DONAL, Master—a scribe at Rhemuth Castle.
DONATUS, Father—an alias of Dom Queron Kinevan.
DROGO de Palance, Sir—Rhun's castellan at Sheele.*
DRUMMOND—see _Cathan, Elinor, James_ , and _Michaela Drummond_.
EDWARD MacInnis, Bishop—young Bishop of Grecotha; son of Earl Manfred and nephew to Archbishop Hubert.
EITHNE—a maid at Rhemuth Castle.
ELGIN—an Eastmarch captain.
ELINOR MacRorie Drummond—widow of Cathan MacRorie and mother of Ansel and Davin by him; mother of Michaela and Cathan by second marriage to James Drummond.*
ELSPETH—a maid at Rhemuth Castle.
EMBERT, Brother—a _Custodes_ monk-physician.
EQUTTES CUSTODUM FIDEI—Knights of the Guardians of the Faith; military arm of the _Custodes Fidei_ , intended to replace the Michaelines.
ESTELLAN MacInnis, Lady—Manfred's wife and Countess of Culdi.
ETIENNE de Courcy, Baron—a southern lord, secretly Deryni, sent by Joram to infiltrate the Haldane Court in preparation for Javan's accession.*
EUGEN von Rostov—a herald in service of Prince Miklos of Torenth.
EVAINE MacRorie Thuryn, Lady—Deryni adept daughter of Camber, sister of Joram; widow of the Healer Rhys Thuryn; mother of Rhysel and Tleg.*
EWAN, Duke—Second Duke of Claibourne, treacherously deposed as one of original five regents of young King Alroy and slain; brother of Sighere and Hrorik, father of Graham.*
FABIUS, Brother—a _Custodes_ monk at Saint Cassian's.
FAELAN, Father—murdered former confessor to King Javan.*
FANE Fitz-Arthur, Lord—eldest son of Earl Tammaron and husband of Richeldis, Heiress of Kierney.*
FITZ-ARTHUR—see _Fane, Fulk, Nieve, Quiric_ , and _Tammaron Fitz-Arthur_.
FULK Fitz-Arthur, Sir—Rhys Michael's senior aide, son of Earl Tammaron.
FURSTAN—dynastic name of the ruling House of Torenth.
GABRILITES—priests and Healers of the Order of Saint Gabriel, an all-Deryni esoteric brotherhood founded in 745 and based at Saint Neot's Abbey until 917, when the Order was suppressed and many of its brethren slain; especially noted for the training of Healers.*
GALLARD de Breffni, Sir—a _Custodes_ knight.
GIESELE MacLean, Lady—Co-Heiress of Kierney, sister of Richeldis; smothered to death at age 12.*
GRAHAM MacEwan, Duke—Third Duke of Claibourne; son of Ewan and nephew of Earls Hrorik and Sighere.
GUISCARD de Courcy, Sir—Deryni son of Baron Etienne, sent by Joram to infiltrate the Haldane Court in preparation for accession of Javan; aide to Javan and slain with him in 922.*
HALDANE—surname of the royal House of Gwynedd.
HALEX, Father—Abbot of _Arx Fidei_ Abbey, a _Custodes_ House.
HENRY of Rutherford, Sir—a knight in Rhun's service.
HOMBARD of Tarkent—Torenthi envoy in service of Prince Miklos.
HRORIK of Eastmarch, Lord—Earl of Eastmarch; middle son of Duke Sighere, uncle of Duke Graham, husband of Sudrey, father of Stacia.*
HUBERT MacInnis, Archbishop—Primate of Gwynedd and Archbishop of Valoret, one of Alroy's former regents; younger brother of Earl Manfred and uncle of Bishop Edward.
IMRE, King—fifth and last Festillic King of Gwynedd (900–904); father of Marek of Festil by his sister Ariella.*
IMRE of Festil, Prince—infant son of Marek and Princess Charis of Torenth.*
IOSIF—a guard at Rhemuth Castle.
IVER MacInnis—son of Manfred; Earl of Kierney by right of his wife, Lady Richeldis MacLean.
JAMES, Master—a Court physician.
JAMES Drummond, Lord—deceased father of Michaela and Cathan Drummond.*
JAVAN Jashan Urien Haldane, King—clubfooted younger twin of King Alroy, whom he succeeded; reigned 921–922. Treasonously slain in battle and succeeded by his younger brother, Prince Rhys Michael.*
JERVIS—household steward at Lochalyn Castle.
JESSE MacGregor, Sir—Deryni adept, eldest son and heir of Gregory of Ebor; part of Joram's underground.
JORAM MacRorie, Father—Deryni adept and youngest son of Camber; brother of Evaine; priest and Knight of the Order of Saint Michael; now coordinating resistance to the former regents and plotting to restore independence of the Haldane crown.
JOSHUA Delacroix, Lord— _Custodes_ captain-general at Ramos.
KENNET of Rhorau, Sir—nephew of Termod of Rhorau and brother of Sudrey; killed with Duke Ewan's party in 918.*
KENNET Howell—infant son of Stacia of Eastmarch and Corban Howell.
KIMBALL, Father— _Custodes_ Abbot of Saint Cassian's.
KINEVAN, Dom Queron—see _Queron Kinevan, Dom_.
KYLA, Lady—a poet.*
LIESEL—alias used by Rhysel Thuryn.
LIOR, Father—Inquisitor-General of the _Custodes Fidei_.
LIRIN Udaut, Lady—daughter of Constable Udaut; wife of Richard Murdoch, Earl of Carthane.
LORENZO, Brother—a bookbinder.*
MACGREGOR—surname adopted by Jesse, son of Gregory of Ebor.
MACGREGOR, Bishop Ailin—see _Ailin MacGregor_.
MACINNIS—see _Edward, Hubert, Iver_ , and _Manfred MacInnis_.
MACLEAN—see _Camlin, Giesele_ , and _Richeldis MacLean_.
MACRORIE—surname of Camber's family. See _Ansel, Camber, Evaine_ , and _Joram_.
MAGAN, Father—a young _Custodes_ priest, assistant to Lior.
MANFRED MacInnis, Lord—Earl of Culdi of second creation; a former regent; elder brother of Archbishop Hubert and father of Iver and Bishop Edward.
MARCUS Concannon, Father—Chancellor-General of the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ , in charge of all seminaries and other institutions of education in Gwynedd.
MAREK of Festil, Prince—Deryni posthumous son of Imre and his sister Ariella, and carrier of the Festillic line after his parents' deaths.
MICHAELA Drummond, Queen—daughter of Elinor and James, sister of Cathan; wife and queen of Rhys Michael Haldane; mother of Prince Owain Haldane.
MICHAELINES—priests, knights, and lay brothers of the Order of Saint Michael, a militant fighting and teaching Order, predominantly Deryni, formed during the reign of King Bearand Haldane to hold the Anvil of the Lord against Moorish incursions and defend the sea-lanes; suppressed under the Regency of King Alroy and outlawed thereafter.
MIKLOS von Furstan, Prince—Deryni younger brother of King Arion of Torenth, ally of Marek of Festil.
MURDOCH of Carthane, Lord—slain father of Richard Murdoch, Earl of Carthane; formerly a regent of King Alroy.*
MURRAY—an Eastmarch captain.
NIALLAN Trey, Bishop—outlawed Deryni Bishop of Dhassa; a confidant of Father Joram MacRorie.
NICHOLAS—a retainer at Lochalyn Castle.
NIEVE Fitz-Arthur, Lady—Tammaron's countess and mother of four sons by him; widow of the late Earl of Tarleton, by whom she bore Peter (later known as Lord Albertus) and Paulin (of Ramos).
O'NEILL, Lord Tavis—see _Tavis O'Neill, Lord_.
ORDO CUSTODUM FIDEI—see _Custodes Fidei_.
ORDO VERBI DEI—Order of the Word of God.
ORIEL, Master—a Healer in the forced service of the great lords, slain during palace coup of 922.*
ORISS, Archbishop Robert—Archbishop of Rhemuth and member of royal council.
OWAIN Javan Cinhil Haldane, Prince—four-year-old Crown Prince of Gwynedd, son of Rhys Michael and Michaela.
PAULIN (Sinclair) of Ramos—younger son of the Earl of Tarleton and stepson of Earl Tammaron; briefly Bishop of Stavenham before his resignation to head the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ ; brother of Albertus (Peter Sinclair), the Order's first Grand Master.
POLIDORUS, Brother— _Custodes_ infirmarian at Saint Cassian's Abbey.
QUERON Kinevan, Dom—former Gabrilite Healer-priest and founder of the Servants of Saint Camber; confidant of Joram.
QUIRIC Fitz-Arthur—a squire at Court, son of Tammaron.
REGINA, Sister—a nun at Saint Ostrythe's.
REVAN, Master—human charismatic preacher working with a Deryni faction to save Deryni by blocking their powers via a kind of "baptism." Slain in 922 by his own former followers.*
RHUN of Horthness, Lord—called the Ruthless; Earl of Sheele of second creation and a former regent for King Alroy; husband of Agnes Murdoch; Vice-Marshal of Gwynedd.
RHYSEL Thuryn, Lady—daughter of Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie; as "Liesel," sent secretly to infiltrate Court as a maid to Queen Michaela.
RHYS MICHAEL Alister Haldane, King—youngest of King Cinhil's three sons; succeeded his brother Javan as King Rhys (reigned 922–928); husband of Michaela Drummond and father of Prince Owain.
RICHARD Murdoch, Lord—Earl of Carthane, eldest son of Murdoch.
RICHELDIS MacLean, Lady—Countess of Kierney in her own right, wife of Iver MacInnis.*
RICKART, Dom—Healer to Bishop Niallan and part of Joram's staff.
RONDEL, Sir—aide to Manfred.
SECORIM, Father—abbot of the _Custodes_ chapter at Rhemuth.
SEAN Coris, Sir—son of Sighere, Earl of Marley.
SIGHERE, Lord—Earl of Marley; brother of Hrorik and uncle of Duke Graham; father of Sir Sean Coris.
SINCLAIR—surname of the Earls of Tarleton.
STACIA, Lady—daughter of Hrorik and Sudrey; Heiress of Eastmarch; wife of Corban and mother of Kennet.
STEVANUS, Master—a _Custodes_ battle surgeon.
SUDREY of Rhorau, Lady—widow of Hrorik of Eastmarch; niece of Termod of Rhorau and therefore a distant cousin of Marek of Festil; mother of Stacia.
TAMBERT Fitz-Arthur-Quinnell, Duke—First Duke of Cassan, now ten; son of Fane Fitz-Arthur and Princess Anne Quinnell.*
TAMMARON Fitz-Arthur, Earl—Chancellor of Gwynedd and a former regent for King Alroy; father of Fane, Fulk, and Quiric and grandfather of Duke Tambert.
TAVIS O'Neill—former Healer to Prince Javan and one of the few Healers able to block Deryni powers.*
TIEG Thuryn—Healer son of Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie.
TOMAIS d'Edergoll, Sir—former aide to Prince Rhys Michael, slain during coup of 922.
UDAUT, Lord—Constable of Gwynedd; father of Lirin.
VALENTIN—Marek's most senior captain.
WINIFRED, Sister—a nun at Saint Ostrythe's Convent.
* An asterisk indicates a character mentioned only in passing, possibly deceased.
APPENDIX II
INDEX OF PLACES
ALL SAINTS' CATHEDRAL—seat of the Archbishop of Valoret, Primate of All Gwynedd.
BELDOUR—capital of Torenth.
CAERRORIE—formerly Camber's principal residence as Earl of Culdi, a few hours' ride northeast of Valoret; now the seat of Manfred MacInnis, Earl of Culdi of the second creation.
CARTHANE—Richard Murdoch's earldom, south of Rhemuth, whose capital is Nyford.
CASHIEN—episcopal see to the west of Rhemuth.
CASSAN—former petty princedom ruled by Prince Ambert Quinnell; now a duchy of Gwynedd under its first duke, Tambert Fitz-Arthur-Quinnell.
CLAIBOURNE—principal city of Old Kheldour and first duchy of Gwynedd; seat of Graham, Third Duke of Claibourne.
CONNAIT, The—barbarian kingdom to the west, famous for its mercenaries.
COR CULDI—hereditary ancestral seat of the Earls of Culdi, near the city of Culdi, on the Gwynedd-Meara border.
CULLIECAIRN—Haldane stronghold—castle, town, and garrison—guarding the Coldoire Pass between Eastmarch and Tolan.
DESSE—port town south of Rhemuth.
DHASSA—traditionally neutral episcopal see east of Rhemuth, in the Lendour Mountains.
EASTMARCH—earldom held by Hrorik, middle son of Duke Sighere of Kheldour.
EBOR—earldom north of Valoret, now in abeyance, formerly held by Gregory, Jesse's father.
GRECOTHA—university city, former site of the Varnarite School; seat of the Bishop of Grecotha.
GWYNEDD—central of the Eleven Kingdoms and hub of Haldane power since 645, when the first Haldane High King began to unify the area; seat of the Festillic Dynasty, 822–904; restored to the Haldane line in 904 with the accession of Cinhil Haldane.
HORTHNESS—Barony of Rhun the Ruthless.
HOWICCE—kingdom to the southwest of Gwynedd; loosely allied with Llannedd.
KHELDISH RIDING—viceregality broken off Kheldour after its annexation by Duke Sighere and King Cinhil in 906.
KHELDOUR—small kingdom north of Gwynedd, now comprising the Duchy of Claibourne and the Earldoms of Marley and Eastmarch.
KIERNEY—earldom north of Culdi.
LLANNEDD—kingdom southwest of Gwynedd; loosely allied with Howicce.
LOCHALYN CASTLE—seat of Hrorik, Earl of Eastmarch.
MARBURY—episcopal see in the earldom of Marley.
MARLEY—small earldom carved out of Eastmarch for Sighere, youngest son of Duke Sighere.
MARLOR—barony of Manfred MacInnis.
MEARA—kingdom/princedom northwest of Gwynedd; nominally a vassal state of Gwynedd.
MOORYN—province at the far south of Gwynedd, including Carthmoor and Corwyn.
NYFORD—port city south of Rhemuth, seat of the Earls of Carthane; episcopal see for Carthane.
RAMOS—abbey town southwest of Valoret, where the Council of Ramos convened, winter of 917/918.
RHEMUTH—ancient capital of Gwynedd under the Haldanes; abandoned during Festillic Interregnum; restored under Cinhil and Alroy; secondary archbishopric for Gwynedd, junior to Valoret.
RHENDALL—lake region north of Gwynedd; territorial title given to the heir of the Duke of Claibourne.
SAINT CASSIAN'S ABBEY—a _Custodes_ House on the Plain of Iomaire.
SAINT JARLATH'S ABBEY—Mother House of the Order of Saint Jarlath, on the southwestern edge of the Plain of Iomaire.
SAINT MARK'S ABBEY—monastery near Valoret.
SAINT NEOT'S ABBEY—stronghold of the Order of Saint Gabriel the Archangel, an all-Deryni esoteric Order specializing in the training of Healers; located in the Lendour highlands; destroyed by troops led by the Regent Rhun on Christmas Eve, 917.
SAINT OSTRYTHE'S CONVENT—small religious house lying between Ebor and Sheele.
SHEELE—seat of the Earldom of Sheele, north of Valoret.
STAVENHAM—episcopal see in the far north of Kheldour.
TOLAN—marriage portion of Princess Chans of Torenth, who married Marek of Festil; now a duchy.
TORENTH—powerful kingdom to the east of Gwynedd; origin of the Festillic line, who were rulers of Gwynedd 822–904; currently ruled by King Arion.
VALORET—Festillic capital of Gwynedd, 822–904, from which springs the primacy of its archbishop.
About the Author
Katherine Kurtz was born in Coral Gables, Florida, during a hurricane. She received a four-year science scholarship to the University of Miami and graduated with a bachelor of science degree in chemistry. Medical school followed, but after a year she decided she would rather write about medicine than practice it. A vivid dream inspired Kurtz's Deryni novels, and she sold the first three books in the series on her first submission attempt. She soon defined and established her own sub-genre of "historical fantasy" set in close parallels to our own medieval period featuring "magic" that much resembles extrasensory perception.
While working on the Deryni series, Kurtz further utilized her historical training to develop another sub-genre she calls "crypto-history," in which the "history behind the history" intertwines with the "official" histories of such diverse periods as the Battle of Britain ( _Lammas Night_ ), the American War for Independence ( _Two Crowns for America_ ), contemporary Scotland (The Adept Series, with coauthor Deborah Turner Harris), and the Knights Templar (also with Harris).
In 1983, Kurtz married the dashing Scott MacMillan; they have a son, Cameron. Until 2007, they made their home in Ireland, in Holybrooke Hall, a mildly haunted gothic revival house, They have recently returned to the United States and taken up residence in a historic house in Virginia, with their five Irish cats and one silly dog. (The ghosts of Holybrooke appear to have remained behind.)
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1994 by Katherine Kurtz
Map copyright © 1994 by Shelly Shapiro
Cover design by Michel Vrana
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3128-8
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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That location will make for a nice drive. I like the idea!
Never heard of Ski Shores, but I don't get out much :)Me neither, but I heard it has a nice view. Like William said, the drive to get there is nice, too.
As a heads up, we hope to have a "Soft Opening" at our new MADNESS Autoworks Austin (Spicewood) location in the next few weeks! I'll also post details about the official grand opening event in January and would love to have you guys out there!
Thanks for the update on your progress. I am sure setting up a new shop is a huge undertaking and I wish you the best in getting the new place open. Looking forward to doing business with you in person.
Thanks for the kind words and yes, I'll definitely keep you guys posted! We look forward to seeing you both at the new shop! | {
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} | 3,353 |
Liverpool pilot events will not include vaccine passports – council
A series of trial events are planned as officials look to find a way for venues to reopen without the need for social distancing.
Trial events taking place in Liverpool will not require people to show Covid-19 vaccine passports (PA)
By Catherine Wylie, PA
April 04 2021 10:04 AM
Events taking place in Liverpool to trial how venues will operate safely this summer will not require people to show Covid-19 vaccine passports, the council has confirmed.
Boris Johnson is expected to set out plans for a "Covid status certification" scheme to enable the safe return of mass gatherings and indoor events as lockdown restrictions ease in England.
A series of trial events are planned for the coming months as officials look to find a way for venues such as football grounds and nightclubs to reopen without the need for social distancing.
The pilots will explore how different approaches to social distancing, ventilation and test-on-entry protocols could ease opening and maximise participation, including the use of lateral flow tests - but there will be no use of so-called 'vaccine passports' Liverpool City Council
The Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport included a number of Liverpool events on an initial list of pilots, and said: "The pilots will explore how different approaches to social distancing, ventilation and test-on-entry protocols could ease opening and maximise participation.
"Covid-status certification will also be trialled as part of the pilot programme."
But a spokesman for Liverpool City Council said on Sunday: "The line which was briefed out yesterday by the Government about Liverpool's events being included in the vaccine passports trials is incorrect – none of our events in Liverpool will involve them."
The council said the Events Research Programme (ERP) will be used to provide key scientific data on how events for a range of audiences could be permitted to safely reopen as part of Step 4 of the road map out of lockdown.
The Liverpool pilots – a comedy gig, an outdoor cinema, a club night and a business event – will "gather evidence associated with different settings and approaches to managing and mitigating transmission risk".
The council said: "The pilots will explore how different approaches to social distancing, ventilation and test-on-entry protocols could ease opening and maximise participation, including the use of lateral flow tests – but there will be no use of so-called 'vaccine passports'."
VIDEO | Director of @CultureLPool, Claire McColgan, explains more about the four events science-led research events which will take place in Liverpool in the near future, in a drive to reopen the cultural and business sectors of the economy. pic.twitter.com/YFf8ywn7sz
— Liverpool City Council (@lpoolcouncil) April 4, 2021
The Liverpool pilots are the Hot Water Comedy Club at M&S Bank Arena Auditorium, the Luna Cinema on the Waterfront (three shows), The Good Business Festival Presents: Change Business for Good at ACC Liverpool, and the Circus Club.
The council said the aim of the programme is to develop and pilot the logistics of event ticketing and testing, venue admittance and post-event follow-up.
It also aims to assess the adequacy of data collected around events and venues for responding to potential outbreaks, and for adapting protection measures according to the background levels and patterns of spread of the virus.
The programme will also measure the uptake of tickets and explore attitudes to, and acceptability of the overall ticketing, questioning and testing regime.
Matthew Ashton, Liverpool's director of public health, said: "Our experience as the pilot city for mass symptom-free testing means we have the knowledge and infrastructure in place to deliver complicated projects safely.
"We really hope we can help provide the scientific evidence needed to ensure the wider sector is able to open across the country in the coming months.
"This is a continuation of the city's long-standing tradition of carrying out pioneering public health work that not only has an impact here, but also across the rest of the country and the wider world." | {
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Our resemblance strengthens each day.
Filling space becomes the end.
What do you learn when you look through the glass?
Knowing my fate, I say fallen. I say earth.
Ah, simplicity! When I was a child my mother would occasionally serve rice balls in which a single mouth-puckering umeboshi rested at the center. These have long been a favorite, but I admit that umeboshi might be an acquired taste. Commonly called "pickled plums," ume aren't really plums but are more closely related to apricots. I cherish them.
"Self-Portrait with Umeboshi" first appeared in the Silver Birch Press Self-Portrait Series (August 2014), was included in the subsequent print anthology, Self-Portrait Poetry Collection, and also appears in my chapbook, If Your Matter Could Reform.
This entry was posted in Poetry, recording and tagged Asian-American, creative writing, food, language, life, memory, poem, poems, poetry, recording, writing by robert okaji. Bookmark the permalink.
'separated by distances / too subtle to see' brings me to the edge of memories… a land always beginning and ending.
Thanks, Jan. And it's always a bit hazy, for me.
A flash of reality bitter, sour, yet sweet in your assessment of lovers – separated by distances too subtle to see. Such distances exist also between an individual's inner family members (personality parts).
Oh, yes. They exist everywhere.
Damn I clicked so fast when I saw it was a recording! I really loved this, and the lines that led up to and: "like lovers separated by distances too subtle to see" are so beautiful but also made me feel sadness. So good.
I'm so pleased you liked this. Those subtle spaces can overwhelm us. | {
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{"url":"https:\/\/openreview.net\/forum?id=msCiI5dejr","text":"## Generalization of the Change of Variables Formula with Applications to Residual Flows\n\nJun 02, 2021 (edited Jul 09, 2021)INNF+ 2021 posterReaders: Everyone\n\u2022 Keywords: Machine Learning, ICML, Change of Variables, Generalization of Flows, Residual Flows, Measure Theory\n\u2022 Abstract: Normalizing flows leverage the Change of Variables Formula (CVF) to define flexible density models. Yet, the requirement of smooth transformations (diffeomorphisms) in the CVF poses a significant challenge in the construction of these models. To enlarge the design space of flows, we introduce $\\mathcal{L}$-diffeomorphisms as generalized transformations which may violate these requirements on zero Lebesgue-measure sets. This relaxation allows e.g. the use of non-smooth activation functions such as ReLU. Finally, we apply the obtained results to planar, radial, and contractive residual flows.\n3 Replies","date":"2022-01-17 10:07:32","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.8863049745559692, \"perplexity\": 2366.2884722041035}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 5, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-05\/segments\/1642320300533.72\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20220117091246-20220117121246-00263.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
Uhtjärve is a village in Antsla Parish, Võru County in Estonia. As of the 2021 census, the population was 71.
Uhtjärve has an area of 8.559 km² and a Population Density [2021] of 8.295/km².
References
Villages in Võru County | {
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Hubert Moses Medland (1 July 1881 – 11 December 1964) was a British Labour Party politician.
Born in Okehampton, Medland was educated at Tavistock Grammar School before becoming a civil servant. He also joined the Labour Party, and served on Plymouth City Council from 1923, including a term as Lord Mayor of Plymouth in 1935. He stood unsuccessfully in Torquay at both the 1929 and 1931 United Kingdom general elections. In 1938, he became the president of the British Waterworks Association, and during World War II he was the civil defence regional commissioner for the south west.
Medland was elected as Member of Parliament (MP) for the Plymouth Drake constituency at the 1945 general election and held the seat until the constituency was abolished for the 1950 general election. He then served on the South West Electricity Board and the South West Regional Hospital Board.
Medland was known locally as "Stormy Medland" for his direct manner. Medland Crescent in Southway Ward in Plymouth is named after Hubert Medland. This is close to Moses Court named after Jimmy Moses, the first Labour Party Member of Parliament for Plymouth.
References
External links
1881 births
1964 deaths
Labour Party (UK) MPs for English constituencies
UK MPs 1945–1950 | {
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Bryden Wood worked with Schneider Electric to design compute cells to house Cap Gemini server units. The compute cells and associated parts were to be deployed within large sheds. The design requirement was to cool the server units and exhaust hot air. The cells were designed to be fabricated off site and coupled together on site forming linear segments which in turn would be joined by spine corridors. A high degree of precision was required in order to ensure a tight connecting air seal. The roof system was designed to support cooling and ductwork units. | {
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A WOMAN'S LIFE IN ANCIENT MACEDONIA
At the time of Alexander, women were expected to be stay-at-home moms, spending time at the loom and tending their children. Marriage was a social transaction aimed at creating relationships between families and the bride was seen as a valuable commodity. The wife of the king was mistress of his household and responsible for managing his residence, attend to the hospitality of guests and was sometimes present at the drinking parties for the men but mostly spent time in the women's quarters ((gynaikonites) spinning and weaving in the company of her handmaidens.rtisnab
Because legitimate offspring were essential to ensure the inheritance of property and status, women were devoted to managing domestic affairs and bringing up children and were excluded from political life. Women did not take part in symposiums even when they were held at her home. If a woman lived in a rural area she often shared arduous tasks with the men and enjoyed a greater independence. But city women lived a fairly pampered and sheltered life. Intellectual pursuits were exceptional and girls did not go to school. Women of the more common folk enjoyed greater independent, frequenting the marketplace (agora) and some women worked as midwives and nursemaids. The only truly independent women were the courtesans (Hetairai). They circulated freely, attended symposia, entertained whomsoever they pleased and managed their own property. Many of them worked as temple maidens and entertainers.
In the Classical period of Macedonia the lives of the women of the royal house were well documented. Marriages of princesses were celebrated with great pomp which included state banquets and games. These marriages were arranged by the king for military and political reasons. Polygamy was customary for the Macedonian kings, serving their military and political purposes as well as ensuring large numbers of male offspring.
The everyday life of the women of the royal house was simple. they helped in preparation of the daily meals, wove cloth, and participated in formal banquets. Macedonian women seem to have been fascinated by magic as indicated by the wishes and curses they inscribed on lead strips (katadesmoi) placed in te tombs of the deceased. Plutarch refers to the surreptitiousness of Olympias who took part in licentious rites with large tame snakes coiled around the thrysoi and wreaths.
However, they also played an important role in state affairs. Women such as Eurydike and Olympias – mother and wife of Philip II – had their statues set up in the Philippeion at Olympia . These women enjoyed special treatment and were permitted to be the regents of kings who were still to young to rule and were actively involved in matters of state. Often they were the target of scandal-mongering as in the many tales told about Alexander's mother, Olympias. When Alexander was away in Asia, she had general supervision of his kingdom and represented the Macedonian state. After Alexander's death she issued decrees on behalf of the joint-kings and herself as well as 'in the name of the house of Philip and his son Alexander'. Even so she failed to unite the royal house and her life story has been embellished with many scandals, most likely to be untrue as they express the defamation and hostilely that had broke out between her supporters and her opponents who were supported by Kassander.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged hetairas, marriage, princesses, queens, women | Leave a reply
INTRODUCING ROXANE
Posted on May 19, 2015 by Ruth Kozak
ir-leasing.ru
Author's note: I'm going to present a series of introductions to the main characters in SHADOW OF THE LION, first those in "Blood on the Moon" and later those who appear in volume 2 "The Fields of Hades".
Roxana (also spelled Roxane): Her Sogdian name was ROSHANAK which meant "Little Star". Her father was a Sogdian nobleman and warlord named Oxyartes. His fortress was atop the formidable Rock of Ariamazes in Sogdiana near the Oxus River, known as "The Sogdian Rock" in the Hindu Kush mountains, today's northern Afghanistan. Roxana was about fifteen years old when Alexander's elite troop of mountaineers scaled the heights of the Rock and stormed the fortress.
It is said that Alexander fell in love at first sight when he met this spirited Soghdian girl who was described as "the most beautiful lady in all Asia". All agreed that Alexander was entranced by her. He was 29 and had never been married. An obvious candidate had been Barsine, widow of Memnon of Rhodes, who had been his concubine since the Battle of Issus, but instead he chose Roxana. They had a lavish wedding and symbolized their union before the guests with the Persian custom of cutting a loaf of bread with a sword and each eating half as bride and groom. Of course his marriage was political move as Oxyartes was one of the most powerful chieftains in Sogdiana. Roxana was a fierce-tempered mountain woman. Her three brothers were warriors and were later conscripted into Alexander's army. One of them, Itanes, became the commander of a special squadron.
Alexander's marriage to Roxana was a noble step, his first marriage was meant to secure Soghdiana as part of his empire, so perhaps this was more of a reality and not romance when he married her. His father, Philip II always took wives from the tribes he conquered. And to maintain the Soghdians' loyalty marrying a local princess was a logical step. The marriage provoked his generals. Alexander had begun to adopt Persian customs, including the proskynesis (bowing in obeisance to the king), and the men were outraged and bitter toward Persian royalty.
After the marriage, Roxana followed Alexander to India where she gave birth to a child that died soon after. She accompanied Alexander to Babylon and when he died on June 10, 323 BC she was again pregnant. So was Alexander's second wife, Stateira, the daughter of Shah Darius. In a fit of jealousy, and with General Perdikkas' help, Roxana allegedly murdered her female rival.
Unlike most of the other Persian noblewomen who were quickly swept from sight after the Macedonians repudiated the marriages that had been arranged for them by Alexander, Roxana managed to survive, but she and her newborn son were never truly accepted. The child, Alexander IV (in the novel named Iskander) born a month after Alexander's death, was of Soghdian blood, not a true-born Macedonian. Because the generals insisted there should be a Macedonian on the throne, they made Alexander's mentally challenged half-brother Arridaios, joint kings with Alexander's infant heir.
Roxana's life after Alexander's death was not an easy one. Despised by most of the generals and known for her angry outbursts, she was isolated and mostly friendless. In the novel, I created a fictional character, Nabarzanes the Persian Court Advisor, as a sympathetic character who she could rely on. Her life became a struggle as she tried to survive the maelstrom of Macedonian politics and intrigues of the Macedonian court. She could trace her bloodlines to an Assyrian queen and was used to a rich, indulged lifestyle, known for her temper, selfishness and arrogance. Alexander's generals considered her a mere campaign wife. After the death of General Perdikkas who manipulated the joint-kings in hopes of gaining his own hold on the throne, Roxana and her child were placed in the guardianship of Polyperchon, one of the officers who had served Alexander in Soghdiana.
For a woman who had grown up in the mountains of the Hindu Kush, traveled to exotic India and lived in the posh palaces of Persia and Babylonia, it must have been a strange experience for Roxana when she and her child were finally transported to Macedon to be placed in the care of the aging regent, Antipater.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Asia, campaigns, marriage, Soghdiana | Leave a reply | {
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Q: Android: How can I load more data in the background in recyclerView I am creating a new android app, I have nearly completed the first screen. However, as soon as I reach the bottom of the screen, instead of loading new data, the app throws me right to the beginning of the page.
The API that I'm using will send the next page when I send a request for the second page. Can you please tell me how can I make the app such that, it automatically sends the request for the second page, before the user reaches the end of the first page.
I'm using volley library along with recyclerView and cardView. Can you please explain clearly as to where am I supposed to make changes, I am new to app development.
Here is the volley request:
private void discoverMovies() {
final ProgressDialog progressDialog = new ProgressDialog(getContext());
progressDialog.setMessage("Fetching Data From DB");
progressDialog.show();
//Requesting the data.....
StringRequest stringRequest = new StringRequest(Request.Method.GET, tempURL,
new Response.Listener<String>() {
@Override
public void onResponse(String response) {
try {
progressDialog.dismiss();
JSONObject parentObject = new JSONObject(response);
JSONArray parentArray = parentObject.getJSONArray("results");
for (int i = 0; i < parentArray.length(); i++) {
JSONObject object = parentArray.getJSONObject(i);
movieModel model = new movieModel(
object.getString("title"),
object.getString("overview"),
object.getString("release_date"),
object.getString("poster_path"),
object.getInt("id"),
object.getBoolean("adult"),
object.getInt("vote_count"),
object.getDouble("vote_average"),
object.getString("original_language"),
object.getString("backdrop_path")
);
movieModels.add(model);
adapter = new cardViewAdapter(getContext(), movieModels);
recyclerView.setAdapter(adapter);
}
} catch (JSONException e) {
e.printStackTrace();
}
}
},
new Response.ErrorListener() {
@Override
public void onErrorResponse(VolleyError error) {
progressDialog.dismiss();
Toast.makeText(getActivity(), error.getLocalizedMessage(), Toast.LENGTH_LONG).show();
}
});
RequestQueue requestQueue = Volley.newRequestQueue(getContext());
requestQueue.add(stringRequest);
}
A: Refer this. Its explained in a cool fashion here.
Basically you need an onScrollChangeListener to detect scroll changes in your recyclerview but that alone wont help. So you need a way to check whether you are currently reaching the bottom of your recyclerview. so here's how you do it:
Check this line in the above link
// If it isn't currently loading, we check to see if we have breached
// the visibleThreshold and need to reload more data.
// If we do need to reload some more data, we execute onLoadMore to fetch the data.
if (!loading && (firstVisibleItem + visibleItemCount + visibleThreshold) >= totalItemCount ) {
loading = onLoadMore(currentPage + 1, totalItemCount);
}
See the variable visibleThreshold that is where you modify and apply you own custom value to make the second call.
lets check that with values:
if visibleThreshold is 0 and you have 10 items in your list and you`re on the 6 item and the first item is the 0th item:
the this line
if (!loading && (firstVisibleItem + visibleItemCount + visibleThreshold) >= totalItemCount )
interprets as -> if (true && (0+6+0)>=10) which interprets as false!
thus the second call wont be made now. it will be made when you lastitem is the 10th item (as your threshold is 0)
But now if you add a threshold of 4, the next call is made as the condition now is satisfied:
interprets as -> if (true && (0+6+4)>=10) which interprets as true!
Summarizing, the visibleThreshold is where you add your logic, rest you can implement the boiler plate code from the link!
A: For pagination I use following code
recyclerView.addOnScrollListener(new RecyclerView.OnScrollListener() {
@Override
public void onScrolled(RecyclerView recyclerView, int dx, int dy) {
super.onScrolled(recyclerView, dx, dy);
if (hasMoreRequest) {
if (dy > 0) { //check for scroll down
checkForMoreLoad();
}
}
}
});
private void checkForMoreLoad() {
final Handler handler = new Handler();
Runnable checkForMoreData = new Runnable() {
@Override
public void run() {
if (null != recyclerView) {
int visibleItemCount = recyclerView.getLayoutManager().getChildCount();
int totalItemCount = recyclerView.getLayoutManager().getItemCount();
int pastVisibleItems = ((LinearLayoutManager) recyclerView.getLayoutManager()).findFirstVisibleItemPosition();
onScrollToLoad(visibleItemCount, pastVisibleItems, totalItemCount);
}
}
};
handler.postDelayed(checkForMoreData, 100);
}
private void onScrollToLoad(int visibleItemCount, int pastVisibleItems, int totalItemCount) {
if ((visibleItemCount + pastVisibleItems) >= totalItemCount && hasMoreRequest) {
if (BuildConfig.DEBUG)
Log.d(TAG, "onScroll lastInScreen - so load more");
startApi(page + 1);
}
}
This code will call API for next page, whenever scroll reaches to bottom of the scroll.
Also after each API, I call checkForMoreLoad() method again to check whether more data is required or not. And yes don't forget to add adapter.notifyItemRangeChanged() after adding new elements to adapter
| {
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Q: Gnome fractional scaling below 100% I am running Ubuntu 19.10 on an old laptop with max resolution of 1366x768.
Is there a way to scale down gnome below 100%?
I have already set text scaling to .90 and reduced the dock icon size to 36.
Is this feature available in other window managers?
A: try with xrandr --output HDMI --scale 0.75x0.75 being HDMI your output from the list xrandr --listmonitors and 0.75 the wanted factor.
A: I'm running Debian 11. I tested this in RockyLinux - which is a CentOS splinter - and it worked.
At a terminal prompt enter:
xrandr --listmonitors
The output will look something like this:
Monitors: 1
0: +*LVDS-1 3620/309x2036/174+0+0 LVDS-1
In the output the end bit is your video output. In my case it's "LVDS-1"
In a terminal enter:
sudo nano /etc/xdg/autostart/.desktop
Enter the below bit of info changing the LVDS-1 to what ever the output was from your system.
[Desktop Entry]
Type=Application
Name=xrandr
Exec=xrandr --output LVDS-1 --scale 2.65x2.65
OnlyShowIn=GNOME;
Reboot your system and you should be set.
A: There is a bug for this on the Gnome launchpad site, I hope a few more people will go over there and raise it's profile:-
https://bugs.launchpad.net/ubuntu/+source/mutter/+bug/1724037
| {
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\section{Introduction}
Novel-view synthesis is a vital research topic in computer vision, playing a key role in augmented reality, creative interaction, 3D reconstruction, etc. However, the most popular novel-view synthesis methods represented by NeRF \cite{mildenhall2020nerf} are still facing many challenges, especially the efficiency and generalizability of both rendering and geometry estimation. Therefore, designing a geometry-aware generalized neural radiance field is meaningful.
The efficiency of neural radiance field mainly depends on its sampling rule and training strategy. For the sampling process, the original NeRF and many follow-up work \cite{meng2021gnerf,yu2021pixelnerf,wang2021ibrnet} query points along camera rays in whole volume. A series of methods \cite{NSVF,PLENOCTRREE} combine radiance field with volumetric representation and prune redundant parts of pre-trained neural radiation field to speed up rendering, taking huge memory during training. More importantly, consumption of time and computing resources in training cannot be ignored. Therefore, a scene-adaptive importance sampling scheme needs to be designed to help speed up training and rendering. It is therefore plausible to make NeRF generalize to unseen scenes, and generate novel-view images based on only a limited number of input views and images. Recent work has explored using feature learning to make neural radiance field generalized, i.e., PixelNeRF \cite{yu2021pixelnerf}, which takes spatial image feature aligned to each pixel. But learning of common features unavoidably compromises rendering quality and geometry estimation accuracy. \textbf{Hence, a framework for learning commonalities while preserving scene uniqueness is urgently needed.}
To improve accuracy while maintaining generalization, previous attempt is to combine pixel colors with image features before learning, which has been proven useful in MVSNeRf \cite{chen2021mvsnerf} and IBRNet \cite{wang2021ibrnet}. Besides, MVSNeRF \cite{chen2021mvsnerf} and SRF \cite{srf} introduce the block matching inspired by MVS \cite{MVSNET}. However, experiments show that generalized NeRFs \cite{yu2021pixelnerf, wang2021ibrnet,srf} perform poorly on the geometry, which prevents them from further improving rendering quality. \textbf{Therefore, it is essential to address rendering and geometry estimation tasks in a simultaneous and integrated way, instead of tackling them separately. Besides, using the pixel-level optimization objective way also hinders the NeRF networks from learning more representative features.}
To address these issues, we propose a geometry-aware generalized radiance field (GARF) with a geometry-aware dynamic sampling (GADS) strategy, which is capable of fast recovering the unseen scene in both pixel-level and geometry-level, depending on only a few input images. The model learns common attributes of novel-view synthesis in different scenes to acquire generalization to unseen scenes and keeps specific to each scene based on the prior of its estimated geometry. The proposed framework is shown in Fig.~\ref{framework}, which contains a depth estimation module, a feature extraction and fusion module, a geometry-aware dynamic sampling module and a volumetric rendering module. First, we train a self-supervised depth estimation network to get depth maps for scenes. Based on the initial depth estimation, we narrow the ray sampling interval down to proximity space of the estimated surface. In the sampling interval, we propose a predict-then-refine strategy to progressively approach the most likely location of surface point. For each sampling point, we derive its feature by fusing corresponding multi-view feature vectors learned by a feature extraction network with a set of learnable weights. Finally, we decode the feature of per point into density and color, which are used for volumetric rendering. In order to make the network learn more comprehensive representation, we introduce a Multi-level Semantic Consistency loss (MSC), which integrates both pixel-level loss and semantic feature matching loss to constrain the global similarity of predicted images and the ground truth with limited computational cost. Extensive experiments on indoor and outdoor datasets show that comparing with existing generalized NeRF methods, GARF reduces sampling points by more than 25\%, while improving rendering quality and 3D geometry estimation without per-scene optimization.
\section{Related Work}
\subsubsection{Novel View Synthesis.}
Novel view synthesis is to generate the image of the target view from the inputted images. Historically, synthesizing novel views from a set of reference images is conducted by a weighted blending of reference pixels \cite{debevec1996modeling,gortler1996lumigraph,levoy1996light}. Blending weights are computed based on ray-space proximity \cite{levoy1996light} or approximate proxy geometry \cite{buehler2001unstructured,heigl1999plenoptic}. In recent works, researchers have proposed improved methods for computing proxy geometry \cite{chaurasia2013depth,hedman2016scalable}, optical flow correction \cite{casas20154d,eisemann2008floating}, and soft blending \cite{penner2017soft}. While these methods can handle sparser views than other approaches, they are limited by the performance of 3D reconstruction algorithms and have difficulties in low-textured regions or reflective regions. Multi-plane images (MPIs) approaches \cite{flynn2019deepview,flynn2016deepstereo,mildenhall2019local} have shown remarkable results on continuous view synthesis, but the large number of inputs and samples results in extensive memory overhead, limits the resolution of their outputs.
\subsubsection{NeRF.} Neural radiance field (NeRF) \cite{mildenhall2020nerf} revolutionized the novel-view synthesis by introducing implicit function to volumetric rendering, bringing out impressive results in complex scenes. To gain more controllable created content, Niemeyer et. al. \cite{meng2021gnerf, niemeyer2021giraffe} incorporate a compositional 3D scene representation into the generative model. GNeRF combines Generative Adversarial Networks (GAN) with NeRF for complex scenarios with unknown and even randomly initialized camera poses.
While NeRF and its follow-up works have achieved impressive results, they must be optimized for each new scene, requiring a large number of input images and taking days to converge. Though several methods have proposed to train on fewer views or render faster \cite{DBLP:journals/corr/abs-2112-05131,PLENOCTRREE,NSVF,nerfid}, non-generalizability of the models still hinders real-time inference.
\subsubsection{Generalized NeRF.} A pioneer generalized NeRF framework is proposed by pixelNeRF \cite{yu2021pixelnerf}. By introducing image features, pixelNeRF can be trained across multiple scenes. To improve image quality when generalized to novel scenes, IBRNet \cite{wang2021ibrnet} designs a ray transformer to take advantage of the contextual information on the ray. Similar ray transformer structure is also used by GRF \cite{trevithick2021grf}. GRF learns local features for each pixel in images and integrates an attention mechanism\cite{trevithick2021grf}. Stereo Radiance Fields (SRF) \cite{srf} introduces patch matching into neural view synthesis to realize sparse inputs. MVSNeRF \cite{chen2021mvsnerf} leverages cost volumes to improve the performance of the generalized nerf. However, above generalized methods inherit the sampling strategy of the original NeRF \cite{mildenhall2020nerf}, which samples in the whole space inefficiently. Besides, generalized learning makes the network learn only the interpolation of images in pixel scale, without geometry learning. The lack of geometric information leads to constraints on generalization capabilities, inefficient rendering, and blurring of novel-view synthesis, especially when the input views are sparse. DS-NeRF \cite{deng2021depth} proposes a loss to take advantage of depth, exploiting the insight that sparse depth supervision can be used to regularize the learned geometry. But the constraint in \cite{deng2021depth} is sparse and the depth prior limits the prediction. We propose GARF framework and GADS scheme to realize geometry-aware sampling and learning.
\section{Methodology}
The original NeRF \cite{mildenhall2020nerf} optimizes each scene independently, hindering real-time scene reconstruction and rendering application. Though some generalized NeRF-based methods \cite{yu2021pixelnerf,wang2021ibrnet,chen2021mvsnerf} attempt to learn common attributes of novel-view synthesis in varying scenes, they are still far from achieving realistic rendering quality or handling large scene and view-angle changes, since these methods lack a principled way to encode sufficient inherent geometric information among multi-view images. Besides, sampling in an unconstrained high-dimensional space makes these NeRFs computationally expensive, hindering their potential application in portable platform. Focusing on above problems, we design a Geometry-Aware Generalized Neural Radiance Field (GARF) model to realize more efficient and higher-fidelity novel scene rendering and depth estimation based on learnable geometry priors. The overall framework is shown in Fig.~\ref{framework}, which consists of two novel components, i.e., a geometry representation learning module along with position and orientation encodings to achieve both generalization and scene-specific details, as well as a Geometry-Aware Dynamic Sampling Strategy (GADS) to realize more accurate and efficient sampling via coarsely inferred geometry (i.e., depth estimation) guidance. In addition, we propose a Multi-level Semantic Consistency Loss (MSC) to facilitate learning more informative representation.
\begin{figure*}[h]
\centering
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\includegraphics[width=17.5cm, height=8.5cm]{fig13.pdf}
\setlength{\belowcaptionskip}{-0.5cm}
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\caption{Our framework. The proposed Geometry-Aware Generalized Neural Radiance Field (GARF) consists of three parts. First, deep convolutional features are extracted from input images to form learnable geometry priors of the scene. Second, a dynamic sampling strategy is derived, based on coarsely estimated geometry prior. Finally, a decoder module is designed to predict color and density to render novel-view image along with fine depth map inference in a joint manner.}
\label{framework}
\end{figure*}
\subsection{Generalized Neural Radiance Field}
\label{section1}
The goal is to predict color and density at point with coordinate $x$ in 3D space, given $ \mathcal{I} = \left\{ I_{i}, P_{i}\right\}_{i=1}^{N}$, a set of $N$ input reference images, with camera parameters. Neural radiance fields were initially proposed in NeRF \cite{mildenhall2020nerf} and become popular recently for their geometric superiority in processing multi-view images. The main idea of NeRF is utilizing implicit deep model to fit the distribution of color and density of points, which are parameterized by real-valued coordinates and viewing directions of the considered 3D volume, supervised by images captured from multiple view angles. However, NeRF has no cross-scene generalization capability, due to the large semantic gap between input coordinates and output image pixel values, i.e., no semantic features that can encode geometric commonalities. Therefore, in order to cope with unseen scenes, we design a geometric structure representation learnable NeRF by a deep encoder-decoder framework. Specifically, we extract deep convolution features representing the geometry, shape, texture, etc. of input images by an encoder module and fuse multi-view features for representing each point in the 3D space semantically. Then, this novelly introduced scene representation combined with the original coordinate query eliminates the semantic gap of implicit mapping and enhances generalization via commonality learning. In this sense, our goal is to learn a function $f_{GARF}$ which maps the point $x_{j}$, feature $F(x_{j})$ and view direction $r$ of the point to color $c$ and opacity $\sigma$, described as follows:
\begin{align}
f_{GARF}:\left ( F(x_{j}),x_{j},r \right )\mapsto \left ( c,\sigma \right ),
\end{align}
In the following, we will introduce the proposed encoder-decoder structure in detail.
\begin{figure*}[h]
\centering
\hspace{-0.2cm}
\includegraphics[width=18cm]{fig/sampling814.pdf}
\setlength{\belowcaptionskip}{-0.5cm}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\caption{Illustration of the geometry-aware dynamic sampling.}
\label{sampling illu}
\end{figure*}
\subsubsection{Encoder and Feature Fusion.} In contrast to NeRF, where the inputs are point coordinates without scene-specific information, we condition our prediction on the reference images. Specifically, we first use a U-ResNet to extract the feature ${M_{i}\in\mathcal{R}^{H\times W\times z} }$ of the image $I_{i}\in \left [0,1\right]^{H\times W\times 3}$. The skip connection module of U-ResNet better reveals low-level information of the images while preserving global scene structure, which helps generalize to realistic novel-view images. In addition, to check the consistency among the features ${M_{i}}$, we concatenate the image feature with its mean and variance map. The concatenated feature is fed in a PointNet-like MLP to integrate local and global information and generate multi-view aware features $W_{n}$, along with a set of learnable weights $\omega_{n}$.
Then, we fuse the features of different $N$ views together. Previous feature fusing methods in multi-view synthesis use average weighting or weighting based on the distance between the reference view and target view. Actually, the correlation between each 3D point and the multi-view images is different, which cannot be described by the same weight. SRF \cite{srf} proposes using patch matching to set reasonable weights, depending on huge memory. We achieve feature fusion in point-wise, projecting every 3D point into each reference view, extracting the corresponding local features of each view and fusing them together. We use a set of learnable weights for every point to fuse multi-view features. For a target view, a camera ray can be parameterized as $\mathbf{r}(t)= \mathbf{o} + t\mathbf{d}$, with the ray origin (camera center) $\mathbf{o}\in R^{3}$ and ray unit direction vector $\mathbf{d}$. Taking point $x_{j}$ in Fig.~\ref{framework} as an example, we get its feature by reflecting it to feature maps of $N$ input images along corresponding viewing direction $r_{i}$ as Eq.(\ref{r_{i}}). Consequently, we get the feature $V_{j}^{i}$ from view $i$ as Eq.(\ref{V_{j}^{i}}), where $proj(\cdot)$ represents the coordinate obtained by the projection of point $x_{j}$ onto feature cube $W_{i}$ along the ray $r_{i}$. $\mathbf{x}_{j}$ is the coordinate of point ${x}_{j}$.
\begin{align}
\label{r_{i}}
\mathbf{r}_{i}= \mathbf{o}_{i} + t\left ( \mathbf{x}_{j}- \mathbf{o}_{i}\right).
\end{align}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\begin{align}
\label{V_{j}^{i}}
V_{j}^{i}=W_{i}\left[\ proj(\mathbf{x}_{j}, \mathbf{r}_{i})\,\right]
\end{align}
Because of the occlusion and illumination, different perspectives contribute differently to the same point. Therefore, to realize more accurate and view-dependent results, we utilize a set of learnable parameter $w_{i}$ to weighting $N$ different views. The fused feature $F(x_{j})$ for point $x_{j}$ is:
\begin{align}
F(x_{j})=\sum_{i=1}^{N}w_{i}V_{j}^{i}.
\end{align}
\subsubsection{Decoder and Volumetric Rendering.} We have already introduced how to represent a volumetric radiance field conditioned on deeply learned scene features. Here, we introduce how the decoder maps the feature representation into color and density for every sample point. In contrast to most NeRF models which utilize MLP as the decoding structure, in this work we adopt the transformer structure in \cite{wang2021ibrnet} to perform feature decoding of sample sequences on the viewing ray in a context-aware manner. Namely, spatially nearby samples present correlated characteristics; however, MLP independently processes each 3D point without considering the geometry correlations among adjacent samples. On the contrary, transformer-based structures perform self-attention operations, so that contextual dependencies are well modeled and all samples are inferred in a joint way. Based on this decoder structure, for color, we predict the blending weights for the image colors for variation reduction and improve the visual quality of the synthesized results. After getting the color and density value at continuous 5D location, we use volumetric rendering method \cite{volumetric1996, DVR_2020_CVPR, Vol_2020_CVPR} to calculate the color value for every pixel. More concretely, we first query the colors and densities of $M$ samples on the viewing ray, and then we accumulate colors along the ray $\mathbf{r}$ to derive the pixel color $\hat{C_{r}}$ value as:
\begin{align}
\hat{C_{r}}=\sum_{j=1}^{M}T_{j}\left ( 1-exp(-\sigma _{j}\delta_{j}) \right )c_{j},
\end{align}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\begin{align}
T_{j}= exp(-\sum_{k=1}^{j-1}\sigma _{k}\delta_{k}),
\end{align}
where samples from $1$ to $M$ are sorted according to ascending depth values. $c_{j}$ and $\sigma_{j}$ denote the color and density of the $jth$ sample on the ray, respectively. $\delta_{j}$ is the distance between $jth$ sample and $(j-1)th$ sample. In the following section, we will show our innovation on how to accelerate this sampling process.
\subsection{Geometry-Aware Dynamic Sampling}
\label{GADS}
Sampling and integrating along the ray is the most computationally expensive stage in neural rendering. Vanilla sampling strategy in NeRF, which explores the entire 3D volume, not only wastes a lot of computation in empty space but also brings redundant points far away from the real surface, leading to blurry and wrong geometry. To this end, we propose a Geometry-Aware Dynamic Sampling Scheme (GADS) to realize more accurate and efficient sampling. We show the samples of GADS and NeRF in Fig.~\ref{sampling illu} (b) and (c). The main idea of GADS is two-fold: 1) leveraging the coarse geometry estimated from input images to get a geometry-aware sampling interval, and 2) a dynamic \emph{\emph{\emph{Predict-then-Refine}}} sampling strategy to adaptively sample points that are most likely to be close to the geometry surface. Note that GADS realizes both high efficiency and geometry accuracy.
\subsubsection{Geometry-aware Sampling Interval.} To narrow down the sampling space, we estimate the geometry surface of the scene and sample in the nearby region. As the coarse depth estimation shown in Fig.~\ref{framework}, we follow MVSNet \cite{MVSNET} to build a plane-swept cost volume by warping 2D image features from neighboring viewpoints using differentiable homography and then regress depth probability volume using deep 3D CNNs. The depth map is computed by linearly combining per-plane depth values weighted by the probabilities, i.e. the transparency in NeRF. The coarse depth estimation is unsupervised and is optimized by minimizing the distance between predicted depth and the point clouds derived by COLMAP. After rescaling the depth to the GARF space, we exploit it as a geometry prior for sampling.
Then, based on the coarse depth $d_{c}$, we restrict the sampling operation in an interval $I$ that encloses the space where the surface is most likely to appear, denoted by
\begin{align}
\label{range}
I= \left [ d_{c}-\Delta d, d_{c}+\Delta d \right ].
\end{align}
In this way, we adapt the sampling process to scene geometries. Moreover, because of the adjustable interval $\Delta d$, inaccurate depth estimation has the opportunity to be corrected in the subsequent optimization of the neural radiance field.
\subsubsection{Dynamic Sampling Strategy} When the sampling interval is determined, we propose a dynamic sampling strategy (i.e., a new importance sampling scheme), which is shown in Fig.~\ref{sampling illu} (a). Comparing with stratified sampling in \cite{mildenhall2020nerf, wang2021ibrnet, chen2021mvsnerf}, dynamic sampling realizes accurate geometry-aware sampling by iteratively modifying the target sampling position according to the current position, i.e., in the sense of Markov Chain Monte Carlo (MCMC) \cite{MonteCarlo}. Leveraging the idea of MCMC, dynamic sampling progressively approaches the scene surface with just a few samples. To initialize, we randomly sample three points $s_{0}$, $s_{1}$ and $s_{2}$ in the interval, predict their density and derive their accumulated transmittances, as shown in Fig.~\ref{sampling illu} (a)(1). Supposing that the distribution of the monotonically decreasing $T$ on the ray $\mathbf{r}(t)= \mathbf{o} + t\mathbf{d}$ is linear in a small sampling interval $I$,
we derive the distribution $\mathcal{U}_{1}$ of $T$ based on the $T(s_{1})$ and $T(s_{2})$. Then we sample the next point $s_{3}$ at the position where the expectation of $T$ is 0.5.
The iso-surface with $T$ equal to 0.5 is the implicit surface of NeRF and is usually used to obtain point clouds or meshes from NeRF. In this way, the sample is most likely to be the intersection of the surface and the ray. Then we predict the density of $s_3$, calculate $T(s_{3})$, and use it to update the distribution of the $T$ to $\mathcal{U}_{2}$ in the sampling interval. According to this rule, the position of the sampling point $x_{n}$ is decided by $t_{n}$ which satisfies:
\begin{align}
\label{range}
t_{n}=\left \{ t\mid E(T(s_{n}))=0.5, T\sim _{}\mathcal{U}_{n-1} \right \}.
\end{align}
We repeat this \emph{Predict-then-Refine} operation cyclically until reaching the number of samples we set. To reduce the interference caused by background and depth estimation error, we also take coarse uniform sampling in the interval before dynamic sampling. Note that GADS introduces no extra overhead since the total number of summations in progressive sampling is approximately equal to the number of summations in traditional NeRF with the same sample points.
With the cooperation of geometry-aware sampling interval and dynamic sampling strategy, we find that the points approach the real surface very closely with a limited amount of computation, which means that our model is also capable of performing depth estimation in an unsupervised and generalized way, in addition to the novel view rendering task. In the inference stage, we estimate a fine depth map from neural radiance field by weighting and summing the depth values of the sampled points on marched rays (as is done in \cite{meng2021gnerf}). The most related work in depth estimation is NerfingMVS \cite{nerfing_2021_ICCV}, which is not generalizable. As for generalized NeRF methods \cite{yu2021pixelnerf, wang2021ibrnet}, they have no access to accurate depth map, diluting the geometric information during generalization for the pixel-scale optimization goal, as shown in Fig.~\ref{depthmap}. But in our GARF, we introduce geometry prior for every scene by GADS scheme, which helps GARF learn to infer the geometric layout of the scene.
\begin{figure*}[h]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=18cm,height=8cm]{fig/fig_all.pdf}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\caption{Rendering quality comparison. We show rendering results of our method and concurrent neural rendering methods. The results of PixelNeRF is blurry. IBRNet has some deletions in details and marginal areas. MVSNeRF is not realistic in color and blurred on geometric edges. Our results are more realistic in both geometry-scale and appearance-scale.}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\label{renderresult}
\end{figure*}
\subsection{Optimization Objectives}
We train the GARF framework based on the pixel value similarity between the rendered novel view image and its corresponding ground truth. In most NeRF methods, the rendering error is evaluated using only the squared error loss between the rendered and true pixel colors:
\begin{align}
\mathcal{L}_{s}=\sum_{r\in\mathcal{R}}^{}\left\|\hat{C_{r}}-C_{r}\right\|_{2}^{2},
\end{align}
where $\mathcal{R}$ is the set of rays in each batch. $\mathcal{L}_{s}$ can only constrain the similarity in pixel-level and does not measure the overall semantic similarity of images. Thus, in order to learn more informative representation, we take the image content and the scene structure into account and propose a Multi-level Semantic Consistency Loss (MSC):
\begin{align}
\mathcal{L}_{MSC}=\sum_{i=1}^{m}\left\|Encoder(\hat{I})-Encoder(I)\right\|_{2}^{2},
\end{align}
where $m$ is the number of the encoder output layers of different depths, helping to capture multi-scale semantic information. We take VGG-16 as the encoder $Encoder(\cdot)$ and set $m$ equal to 3 empirically in our experiments. $\hat{I}$ and $I$ are the predicted image and the ground truth image correspondingly. $\mathcal{L}_{MSC}$ makes the network learn semantic-level representation of scenes and take semantic coherence as contextual information to render more realistic novel-view images. In practice, we utilize random samples on the image to participate in the calculation. The Geometry-Aware Dynamic Sampling Scheme (GADS) mentioned above also provides efficiency guarantee for the computing cost of $\mathcal{L}_{MSC}$.
Finally, the optimization objective of the GARF network is summarized as:
\begin{align}
\mathcal{L}=\alpha\mathcal{L}_{s}+\beta\mathcal{L}_{MSC},
\end{align}
where $\alpha$, $\beta$ are coefficients of the corresponding objectives.
\section{Experiments}
\subsection{Settings}
\subsubsection{Datasets.}
We conduct experiments on DTU MVS Dataset (DTU) and Local Lightfield Fusion Dataset (LLFF), containing both indoor and outdoor scenes. We use camera parameters provided by the two datasets. In our experiment, we down-sample DTU to a resolution of $300\times400$ for training and evaluation. Images of LLFF are down-sampled to $640\times960$. For dividing training and test set, and we follow the partition of IBRNet \cite{wang2021ibrnet}. There is no intersection between training and test sets, ensuring the validity of generalization tests. For each target view, we randomly select 5 reference views as the input. We keep the sparsity of input views the same as the \cite{wang2021ibrnet}.
\subsubsection{Evaluation Metrics.}
We evaluate image quality by PSNR, SSIM, and LPIPS \cite{lpips_2018_CVPR} which better reflects human perception. To explicitly demonstrate that GARF is able to infer scenes in the geometry domain, e.g., depth value, we derive depth maps and utilize the metrics Abs Rel, Sq Rel, RMSE and $\delta$ in \cite{nerfing_2021_ICCV} to quantitatively evaluate the accuracy of depth maps.
\subsubsection{Implementation Details.}
For the image encoder, we extract features by U-ResNet34. For the sample point feature decoder, we adopt the ray transformer structure with four heads from \cite{wang2021ibrnet}. We train every model using the training scenes and test it on unseen test scenes. We use Adam \cite{kingma2017adam} optimizer with an initial learning rate of $5\times {10}^{-4}$, which decays exponentially along with the optimization. We train our network using two RTX 2080 Ti GPUs, spending 30 hours with 128 samples and 10 hours with 40 samples. The values of hyper-parameters mentioned above are set as $\alpha=1, \beta=1$.
\subsection{Results}
\label{results}
We compare with the state-of-the-art methods, including PixelNeRF \cite{yu2021pixelnerf}, IBRNet \cite{wang2021ibrnet} and MVSNeRF \cite{chen2021mvsnerf} in three aspects: 1) The visual quality of the novel-view rendering; 2) the geometry learning ability measured by depth estimation accuracy; and 3) the computational efficiency of each method. All of the results are inferred without per-scene fine tuning.
\begin{table}[t]
\centering
\resizebox{.47\textwidth}{!}{
\setlength\tabcolsep{1.2pt}{\begin{tabular}{p{2.6cm}<{\centering}|p{1.3cm}<{\centering}p{1.3cm}<{\centering}p{1.3cm}<{\centering}|p{1.3cm}<{\centering}p{1.3cm}<{\centering}p{1.3cm}<{\centering}}
\toprule
Dataset & \multicolumn{3}{c|}{DTU} & \multicolumn{3}{c}{LLFF} \\
Method & PSNR$\uparrow$ & SSIM$\uparrow$ & LPIPS$\downarrow$ & PSNR$\uparrow$ & SSIM$\uparrow$ & LPIPS$\downarrow$ \\
\midrule
PixelNeRF & $20.62$ & $0.752$ & $0.392$ & $12.31$ & $0.416$ & $0.715$ \\
IBRNet & $28.71$ & $0.906$ & $0.095$ & $21.68$ & $0.727$ & $0.286$ \\
MVSNeRF & $26.84$ & $0.946$ & $0.195$ & $21.74$ & $0.764$ & $0.261$ \\
Ours(w/o MSC) & $34.27$ & $0.983$ & $0.033$ & $22.99$ & $0.775$ & $0.202$ \\
Ours & $\mathbf{36.13}$ & $\mathbf{0.992}$ & $\mathbf{0.016}$ & $\mathbf{23.68}$ & $\mathbf{0.795}$ & $\mathbf{0.181}$ \\
\bottomrule
\end{tabular}
}
}
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\caption{Quantitative comparison of rendering. The evaluation metrics are PSNR (higher is better), SSIM (higher is better) and LPIPS (lower is better).}
\vspace{-0.6cm}
\label{table1}
\end{table}
\subsubsection{Novel-view rendering.}
We qualitatively compare performance of our model with state-of-the-art methods in Fig.~\ref{renderresult}. We recover fine details more accurately and achieve the most realistic results in both geometry-domain and appearance-scale. For simple scene like box, we achieve sharper textures, such as the lines on the first row of images. For complicated scene like orchid, prior methods have ambiguity in some positions of the petals, which is probably due to the loss of local information caused by occlusion. Our method fully recovers the geometric structures of scenes, illustrating that by introducing a geometry-aware sampling, GARF is able to better cope with occlusion through geometric priors. More results are provided in supplementary materials.
The quantitative results are shown in Tab.~\ref{table1}. Our model outperforms the other methods on all metrics and datasets. We achieve significant improvement on DTU dataset, outperforming previous works over 20\% on PSNR. Our method also realizes 5\% improvement on SSIM and 83\% improvement on LPIPS. Although the scenes in LLFF are more complicated than DTU and the LLFF dataset is smaller, we still improve 1.94 on PSNR, 4\% on SSIM and 31\% on LPIPS than the best method before. The results validate that by narrowing down sampling space and using geometry-aware sampling, GARF is excellent in realistic novel-view rendering while preserving generalization to unseen scenes.
\subsubsection{Depth Estimation.}
Rendering quality is closely related to the correct estimation of the scene geometry. GARF has greater awareness of scene geometry, which is proved by its better depth estimation. We show the results in Fig.~\ref{depthmap}. Even though PixelNeRF has the ability in novel-view rendering, the geometric learning effect of the scene is unsatisfactory. We achieve the best depth estimation which helps improve novel-view rendering, and robustly handle occluded and magnified views. We use the metrics in \cite{nerfing_2021_ICCV, teed2018deepv2d} to evaluate the accuracy of depth estimation in Tab.~\ref{depthmetric}. The results are tested using the depth ground truth in DTU. We are the best in all metrics, showing advantage in geometry estimation. Our advantage on depth estimation illustrates that GARF is capable of deriving unseen scenes in geometry-scale, which helps the model perform better in the appearance-scale.
\begin{figure}
\centering
\includegraphics[width=8cm]{fig/depth.pdf}
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\caption{Depth maps derived from four methods on DTU. Our method achieves significantly more accurate depth than the others, illustrating the effectiveness of the geometry-aware sampling strategy. The results also explain the advantage of our method in rendering new perspectives.}
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\label{depthmap}
\end{figure}
\begin{table}[t]
\centering
\resizebox{.47\textwidth}{!}{
\setlength\tabcolsep{1.2pt}{
\begin{tabular}{p{1.9cm}<{\centering}|p{1.5cm}<{\centering}p{1.5cm}<{\centering}p{1.5cm}<{\centering}p{1.9cm}<{\centering}p{1.9cm}<{\centering}p{1.9cm}<{\centering}}
\toprule
Method & Abs Rel$\downarrow$ & Sq Rel$\downarrow$ & RMSE$\downarrow$ & $\delta<1.25\uparrow$ & $\delta<1.25^{2}\uparrow$ & $\delta<1.25^{3}\uparrow$ \\
\midrule
PixelNeRF & $0.3943$ & $0.3127$ & $0.5329$ & $0.3673$ & $0.6212$ & $0.7843$ \\
IBRNet & $0.0712$ & $0.0108$ & $0.0961$ & $0.9457$ & $0.9965$ & $0.9999$ \\
MVSNeRF & $0.1698$ & $0.0701$ & $0.2286$ & $0.7584$ & $0.9249$ & $0.9626$ \\
Ours & $\mathbf{0.0534}$ & $\mathbf{0.0099}$ & $\mathbf{0.0823}$ & $\mathbf{0.9505}$ & $\mathbf{0.9986}$ & $\mathbf{0.9999}$ \\
\bottomrule
\end{tabular}}}
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\caption{Quantitative comparison of the depth estimation on DTU. The metrics are accuracy calculated by $l_{2}$ distance.}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\label{depthmetric}
\end{table}
\begin{table}[t]
\centering
\resizebox{.47\textwidth}{!}{
\setlength\tabcolsep{1.2pt}{
\begin{tabular}{p{1.8cm}<{\centering}|p{1.3cm}<{\centering}p{1.1cm}<{\centering}p{1.1cm}<{\centering}p{1.1cm}<{\centering}|p{1.3cm}<{\centering}p{1.1cm}<{\centering}p{1.1cm}<{\centering}p{1.1cm}<{\centering}}
\toprule
Dataset & \multicolumn{4}{c|}{DTU} & \multicolumn{4}{c}{LLFF} \\
Method & Samples & PSNR$\uparrow$ & SSIM$\uparrow$ & LPIPS$\downarrow$ & Samples & PSNR$\uparrow$ & SSIM$\uparrow$ & LPIPS$\downarrow$ \\
\midrule
PixelNeRF & $128+64$ & $20.62$ & $0.752$ & $0.392$ & $128+64$ & $12.31$ & $0.416$ & $0.715$ \\
IBRNet & $64+64$ & $28.71$ & $0.906$ & $0.095$& $64+64$ & $21.68$ & $0.727$ & $0.286$ \\
MVSNet & $128$ & $26.84$ & $0.946$ & $0.195$ & $128$ & $21.74$ & $0.764$ & $0.261$ \\
Ours & $48+48$ & $\mathbf{28.80}$ & $\mathbf{0.968}$ & $\mathbf{0.054}$ & $32+32$ & $\mathbf{22.32}$ & $\mathbf{0.769}$ & $\mathbf{0.230}$\\
\bottomrule
\end{tabular}
}
}
\vspace{-0.2cm}
\caption{
Efficiency comparison. We compare the efficiency of different methods by the samples. The number of samples is the sum of sample points in two sampling stages. Our method reduces samples at least 25\% with higher PSNR.
}
\vspace{-2mm}
\label{efficiency}
\end{table}
\subsubsection{Efficiency.}
We compare the efficiency of different methods on the number of sampling points in Tab.~\ref{efficiency}. The number of samples is the sum of sample points in two sampling stages. On DTU dataset, we achieve better PSNR than the state-of-the-art methods when the number of sampling points reduces 25\%. On LLFF, we reduce 50\% sampling points while achieving 6\% improvement on PSNR. Comparing with others, we sample fewer points on the ray, which reduces the time of forward pass, calculation and summation of volume rendering during training and inference. More metrics are provided in the supplementary materials.
\begin{table}[t]
\centering
\resizebox{.47\textwidth}{!}{
\setlength\tabcolsep{1.4pt}{
\begin{tabular}{p{1.8cm}<{\centering}|p{1.5cm}<{\centering}p{1.5cm}<{\centering}p{1.5cm}<{\centering}|p{1.8cm}<{\centering}p{1.8cm}<{\centering}p{1.8cm}<{\centering}}
\toprule
Tasks & \multicolumn{3}{c|}{View Synthesis} & \multicolumn{3}{c}{Depth Estimation} \\
\midrule
Metrics & PSNR$\uparrow$ & SSIM$\uparrow$ & LPIPS$\downarrow$ & Abs Rel$\downarrow$ & Sq Rel$\downarrow$ & RMSE$\downarrow$ \\
\midrule
NeRF & $33.96$ & $0.979$ & $0.052$ & $0.0682$ & $0.0102$ & $0.0914$ \\
Ours & $\mathbf{36.13}$ & $\mathbf{0.992}$ & $\mathbf{0.016}$ & $\mathbf{0.0534}$ & $\mathbf{0.0099}$ & $\mathbf{0.0823}$ \\
\bottomrule
\end{tabular}
}
}
\vspace{-3mm}
\caption{Ablation study of the sampling strategy.}
\vspace{-0.3cm}
\label{table1}
\end{table}
\subsection{Ablation Study}
\subsubsection{Component Analysis.}
We first discuss how much our method benefits from the Multi-level Semantic Consistency loss (MSC). To this end, we conduct experiments without MSC while keeping other settings.
We present quantitative results in Tab.~\ref{table1} and visual result in Fig.~\ref{renderresult}. Though we still achieve better results than the state-of-the-art methods when MSC is removed, the PSNR decreases. In terms of visualization results, the realism of the color and the coherence of the image appearance are decreased, introducing detailed broken textures, especially in areas with thin lines and edges. The utilization of MSC helps the model learn an informative representation and achieve results in high-fidelity.
Then, we verify the validity of GADS strategy. We respectively apply the sampling strategy of NeRF and the GADS to our model on DTU. The results are in Tab.~\ref{table1}. For view synthesis, our sampling strategy has over 6\% improvement on PSNR. For depth estimation, our strategy has 11.5\% improvement averagely, proving the effectiveness of GADS.
\begin{figure}[!h]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=8.1cm, height=2cm]{fig/fig5.pdf}
\vspace{-0.25cm}
\caption{Results of parameter analysis. We show the change in rendering quality, with the size of the sampling interval, the decrease of samples, and the number of input images.}
\vspace{-0.5cm}
\label{fig_ablation}
\end{figure}
\subsubsection{Parameter Analysis.} Three important parameters introduced by our method are analyzed in this section. All experiments in this section are performed on LLFF Dataset. The first is the size of the sampling interval $\Delta d$, which is used to control the sampling range. As Fig.~\ref{fig_ablation} (a) shows, we derive the best results at $\Delta d=0.8$. As $\Delta d$ decreases, the quality of rendered images decreases, as there is less opportunity to fix depth estimation errors. When the sample interval $\Delta d$ increases, the awareness of geometry decreases, leading to worse results.
The second parameter is the number of sampling points. We show the results in Fig.~\ref{fig_ablation} (b). Before the sampling points drop to 20, image quality is comparable to other methods with 128 sample points, demonstrating the fast rendering capabilities of GARF. But when samples is further reduced, the image quality is noticeably degraded. The reason is that the coarse depth estimation is not very accurate and needs to be further corrected during sampling.
The last parameter is the number of input views. The analysis results are shown in Fig.~\ref{fig_ablation} (c). With the increasing of input image number, the quality of the novel view rendering is gradually improved, enabling high quality visual results.
\section{Conclusions}
In this paper, we present a geometry-aware generalized neural radiance field GARF with a geometry-aware dynamic sampling (GADS) strategy and a Multi-level Semantic Consistency (MSC) constraint. Extensive experiments have demonstrated that GARF is capable of synthesizing realistic free-viewpoint images and estimating accurate depth map, which proves that GARF preserves the characteristics of each scene while keeping generalization. Besides, the training and inference times of GARF are significantly less than previous generalized NeRFs thanks to its efficient sampling strategy GADS. In the future work, we will explore learning more geometry information to infer accurate geometry surface of scenes and objects.
| {
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Abraham Scultetus (Schultetus) (ur. 24 sierpnia 1566 w Zielonej Górze, zm. 24 października 1624 w Emden) – profesor teologii kalwińskiej, kapelan króla Czech, Fryderyka I.
Urodził się w rodzinie luterańskiej. Nauki pobierał w rodzinnej Zielonej Górze, a potem we Wrocławiu, skąd jednak musiał powrócić, gdyż jego ojciec stracił cały majątek w pożarze Zielonej Góry. Dzięki wsparciu rodziny burmistrza Freistadt kontynuował naukę w Görlitz (Zgorzelec). W 1584 odbył podróż po Polsce. Studiował w Wittenberdze i Heidelbergu, gdzie w 1618 został profesorem teologii.
Od 1619 przebywał w Pradze, gdzie był kaznodzieją króla Czech, Fryderyka I. Po klęsce protestanckich wojsk czeskich w bitwie na Białej Górze w 1620 przeciwko katolickim Habsburgom udał się do Wschodniej Fryzji, gdzie zmarł w Emden w 1624.
Zbiór z jego kazań z 1625 przetłumaczył na polski i wydał w 1657 roku razem z własnym komentarzem małopolski kalwinista Jan Teodoryk Potocki.
Dzieła
"Confutatio disputationis Baronii de baptismo Constantini" 1607
"Annales Evangelii per Europara 15 Seculi renovati, Decad. 1 et 2" Heidelberg, 1618
"Axiomata concionancii" 1619
Abrahami Scvlteti Kirchen-Postill : Das ist: Außlegung der Sontäglichen Evangelischen Texten durch das gantze Jahr 1625.
Zobacz też
Bartłomiej Scultetus
Jonas Scultetus
Przypisy
Bibliografia
Abraham Scultetus. Biography
Bibliotheca Britannica. Abraham Scultetus
Duchowni kalwińscy
Ludzie związani z Zieloną Górą przed 1945
Urodzeni w 1566
Zmarli w 1624
Ludzie urodzeni w Zielonej Górze | {
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Physical Appearance of Prosthesis after Syme/Boyd Amputation versus Van Nes Rotationplasty in Adults with Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency (PFFD)
Olga V. Vigna, M.S., Prosthetist, Boston, MA
Largely due to the abnormal appearance, the birth of a child with PFFD often engenders feelings of guilt, disappointment, fear and anxiety in parents and physicians alike. This negative reaction to the child's abnormal appearance continues through adolescence and into adulthood. A child affected by such a negative reaction to his appearance will find it much harder to experience the joys of childhood. Thus, as the child grows, he lacks the social skills and confidence that his peers have. This, coupled with the abnormal appearance, may affect future social successes in such varied areas as romance and career advancement. As a result, physical appearance must be taken into account when determining whether a patient should get a Syme/Boyd Amputation versus a Van Nes Rotationplasty procedure.
Three PFFD amputees were recruited for the study: 1) after Van Nes Rotationplasty; 2) after Boyd Amputation; 3) initially, Van Nes Rotationplasty, then 2 years later - Syme Amputation. Photographs of amputees from waist down were taken from 3 angles: front, prosthesis side of the body, back. Two different Questionnaires were composed: for amputees and for the independent viewers.
One hundred and seven (107) adult subjects were recruited. The Independent Viewers were shown photographs of PFFD patients, first, with prosthesis after Van Nes Rotationplasty amputation, and second, with prosthesis after Boyd amputation. The subjects had been asked to complete a questionnaire giving their opinion of the physical characteristics of the prosthesis and physical appearance of the people in the photographs. The amputees were asked to fill out the Amputee Survey over the phone interview.
The result of this research indicates that superior physical appearance of the prosthesis after Boyd/Syme Amputation has a positive impact on the social, professional, and private life of a patient. The purpose of this research paper is to aid orthopaedic surgeons and all who are involved to make the best surgical and prosthetic management decision for patients with PFFD, to improve their social acceptance and to make their life easier.
Introduction and Background
Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency (PFFD) is a congenital limb deficiency involving the proximal end of the femur and the hip joint, resulting in limb shortening and articular dysfunction Functional limitations vary greatly and optimal treatment planning demands accurate and early (e.g., childhood) classification into prognostic groups. Depending on the disease severity, management ranges from supportive prostheses to lower extremity amputation with complex partial surgical reconstruction.
Numerous classification systems have been devised to categorize PFFD. The most commonly used system is the Aitken classification. In this system, PFFD is classified into four types by radiographic appearance of the proximal femur and acetabulum ( Fig. 1A , Fig. 1B , and Fig. 2 ).
In category A all proximal components of the femur eventually ossify with severe subtrochanteric varus, often with pseudarthrosis. In category B the head of the femur is in a competent acetabulum, but there is never bony or cartilaginous continuity between the shaft and head. In category C there is no head of the femur, no acetabulum, and no apophysis at the proximal end of the femur. In category D there is no acetabulum and no head of the femur; the femoral segment is abnormally short and severely flexed with no proximal femoral apophysis (D is the group in which the major number of bilateral cases is seen).
Treatment options for PFFD are even more numerous than classification systems. Several important orthopaedic issues should be considered when formulating a treatment plan. These include ultimate limb-length discrepancy, joint instability, inadequacy of musculature, and malrotation.
Fig. 3 | Fig. 4 | Fig. 5 | Fig. 6 | Fig. 7 | Fig. 8 | Fig. 9 | Fig. 10
One treatment option is Van Nes Rotationplasty, enabling the use of a below-the-knee prosthesis. Rotationplasty was first described in 1930 by Borggreve, who performed a rotation through the femur. Van Nes described his technique in 1950, rotating the foot 180° through the tibia so that the toes point posteriorly and the ankle functions as a knee. The ankle must have at least a 60° arc of motion and should be at the same level as the opposite knee. The gastrocnemiussoleus complex acts as an extensor of the new knee and can help to limit heel rise of the prosthetic lower segment. The Rotationplasty may gradually derotate with growth, making repeated surgeries necessary. Several modifications have been described later by Torode and Gillespie, Kritter and Krajbich.
Another treatment option is a Syme procedure – through-ankle disarticulation that maintains the heel pad with or without knee arthrodesis, creating a functional transfemoral amputation. A Boyd amputation retains the calcaneus, which is fused to the tibia. A modified Syme disarticulation or Boyd amputation will create a residual limb suited for prosthetic fitting and weight bearing.
Intuitively, one would expect that foot preservation with below-knee function in PFFD would yield a better result compared with the more widely used knee fusion and foot ablation that results in above-knee function. However, because patients with PFFD, in contrast to other amputees, exhibit associated defects in hip musculature, external rotation contractures, and leg and foot anomalies, the situation is often more complex.
To aid with prosthetic fitting, when the knee is situated close to the hip and surgical treatment beyond simple leg lengthening is entertained, a knee fusion with or without ablation of the foot by Syme/Boyd amputation has become the most widely used procedure.
However, prosthetic fitting ease should not be the only factor to be considered when choosing between Syme or Boyd amputation and Van Nes Rotationplasty. After all, a PFFD patient – like every other human being – seeks to improve his or her quality of life. Quality of life includes both physical comfort and social acceptance.
Social acceptance is often linked to physical appearance, especially in children. Children who have the misfortune of being deformed in some way often find it hard to be accepted by their peers. Thus, as the child grows older he or she lacks the social skills and confidence that his peers have. This lack of social skills, coupled with the abnormal appearance, may affect future social success in such varied areas as romance and career advancement. As a result, physical appearance must be taken into account when determining whether a patient should get a Syme Amputation versus a Van Nes Rotationplasty operation.
The purpose of this research paper is to aid both orthopaedic surgeons and patients with the decision-making process by providing them with an unsearched, yet important, variable: a lay person's opinion of which surgery results in the most physically pleasing outcome.
It is hypothesized that in relation to overall physical appearance the results of the Syme/Boyd Amputation are better than those of the Van Nes Rotationplasty, because the Syme/Boyd Amputation outcome is more aesthetically pleasing and less noticeable than that of the Van Nes Rotationplasty, and therefore, the patient is less likely to suffer socially.
Previous Investigators
Research in the field of physical appearance for people with prosthetics has not been extensive. There have been studies, however, that touch on related issues such as physical self-image, self-perceived social acceptance, a comparison between amputee gait and non-amputee gait, and a comparison of energy expenditure for Symes Amputation versus a Van Nes Rotationplasty.
Setoguchi Y. and Varni J.W. (1991) investigated the self-perceived physical appearance in children and adolescents with congenital or acquired limb deficiencies. As part of the overall Child and Adolescent Needs Project at the UCLA Child Amputee Prosthetics Project, the authors developed the Degree of Limb Loss Scale (DLLS). The children's' and adolescents' age and sex were not significantly correlated with their self-perceived physical appearance. There was a statistical trend (r = -.21, p = .07) for the children's group to have a lower score of self-perceived physical appearance as they grew towards adolescence. Also, total degree of limb loss was not significantly correlated with self-perceived physical appearance. The major limitation of this study is that it does not address whether specific types of limb deficiencies and specific prosthetic design characteristics affect self-perceived physical appearance in children and adolescents with limb deficiencies.
Fig. 11 | Fig. 12
Wallander and Varni (1998) touched upon the psychological problems faced by children with chronic physical disorders. The goal of the study was to analyze a wide sample of research conducted on the psychosocial effects of pediatric chronic physical disorders on children and their families. This paper shows the importance of the proposed study by recognizing "the negative values physically healthy children hold about visible handicaps, which may influence their behavior and projected attitude toward children with limb deficiencies." Thus, it is of major importance for a child's social well-being to choose a surgery that healthy children will find most physically pleasing. The major conclusions of this paper are that many children and families suffering from chronic illnesses share the same adjustment issues. The major shortcoming, one which the authors recognize, is that there is not enough research on this area to conduct a thorough analysis on the effects of pediatric chronic physical disorder on child and family adjustments.
Alman et al (1995) sought to objectively: 1) evaluate the perceived physical appearance, gross motor function, and metabolic energy expended in walking after Symes Amputation and after Van Nes Rotationplasty for the treatment of proximal femoral focal deficiency, and 2) to determine whether either reconstructive procedure had any specific advantages or disadvantages. The authors found no significant differences with respect to the Rand Health Insurance Study scores, the Denver profile, or the metabolic energy cost. The operative procedure is probably less of a factor in the perception of physical appearance than is the home and school environment. The parents' active role in choosing the treatment may help to foster a more supportive home environment. The authors believe that many patients who have had a Rotationplasty do not consider themselves as amputees, as they have retained the foot, in contrast to those who have had a Syme amputation, and have lost the foot. This may also play a role in the findings with respect to perceived body image. Understandably, the researchers found it difficult to assemble a large group of patients with this rare disorder in order to compare the different types of treatment.
Another researcher (Fowler et al, 1996) reported on a more in-depth comparison of energy expenditures between the different surgeries available to PFFD patients. The goal of this paper was to relate the subject's age and the type of operation to the oxygen cost during walking. Dependent variables (the speed of the treadmill, the oxygen uptake rate, and the heart rate) were also evaluated. This paper relates to my research in that the more energy one spends walking, the sweatier and more tired one becomes. Exhaustion, obviously, affects physical appearance. The paper concluded that when the subjects walked at their preferred speed, the energy expended for a given distance was significantly greater for those who had received a Syme amputation versus those who had received a Van Nes Rotationplasty. In addition, the advantage of a lower metabolic cost associated the Van Nes procedure was apparently maintained even when postoperative rotation had occurred and the patient used the subtalar joint rather than the ankle joint to actuate the knee of the prosthetic limb.
Three PFFD amputees (all are female and living in Russia at the time of data collection) with only unilateral amputation, without multiple anomalies were recruited for the study:
modified Van Nes Rotationplasty (category B by Aitken);
Boyd's Amputation (category C by Aitken);
initially, Van Nes Rotationplasty, then 2 years later - Syme Amputation (category B by Aitken).
Two different Questionnaires were composed and translated from English into Russian language by the principal investigator, whose native language is Russian:
for amputees;
for the independent viewers.
Self-assessment of physical appearance questionnaire will be written using the Orthotics and Prosthetics Users' Survey (OPUS), the Prosthetics Evaluation Questionnaire (PEQ), and a Survey of Amputees: Functional level and Life Satisfaction (see Fig. 13A , Fig. 13B , Fig. 14A , and Fig. 14B ). Each amputee was asked to fill out the entire Survey, however only the section assessing the 'prosthesis appearance' is of principle interest to this study. Subjects were consented and interviewed by phone.
Photographs of amputees #1 and #2 from waist down wearing similar clothing were taken from 3 angles:
front;
prosthesis side of the body;
One hundred and seven (107) adult subjects who had no prior contact or experience with amputees were asked to participate in this research project. They were recruited from several different public places and cities in Russia. Pictures with and without prosthesis were done only for Patients #1 and #2. Only the pictures with the prosthesis were shown to the Independent Viewers in order to avoid any possible negative bias a lay observer might have from viewing a residual limb without the prosthesis: first, with prosthesis after Van Nes Rotationplasty amputation, and second, with prosthesis after Boyd amputation. The subjects had been asked to complete a questionnaire giving their opinion of the physical characteristics of the prosthesis and physical appearance of the people in the photograph.
The investigators were careful not to bias the subjects by phrasing of the questions. Thus, the first half of the Questionnaire dealt with their opinion of the patients' physical appearance. The second half of the Questionnaire focused on the subjects' characteristics, such as age, gender, marital and social status and educational background. This separation between the first and second halves was intended to keep the subjects from being self-conscious about these qualities when deciding on physical appearance of the person in the photograph.
The data was collected, reviewed and analyzed. All research was done according to the Rules of Health Department for Research in Prosthetics and Orthotics in the Russian Federation.
Amputees
Patient #1 has a child but is currently single, never been married and is living in her parents' apartment with her child. Patients #2 and #3 are married, have children (2 and 1), and live independently in their own homes. In addition, Patient #2 has higher educational credentials.
Patient #1 reported that the physical appearance of her prosthesis had negative impact on her professional position. Specifically, she was ever given jobs where she could meet the public, and sometimes she was not given a job at all or was denied raises and promotions. In addition, Patient #1 stated that her prosthesis sometimes negatively affected her social and private life, and that she is somewhat satisfied with Physical Appearance and function of her prosthesis, but will go thru same procedure again.
Patient #3 (when she had Rotationplasty) was not satisfied with cosmesis and function of her prosthesis. And at that time Physical Appearance of her prosthesis somewhat affected her professional and private life. But after she went through Syme amputation, she is overall satisfied with all aspects of her life, as well as with cosmesis and function of her prosthesis.
Patient #2 (Boyd Amputation) is extremely satisfied with cosmesis, satisfied with function of her prosthesis, never had negative impact on her professional, social and private life.
Both, Patient #2 and #3 stated if they knew then, what they know now they would choose Boyd/Syme Amputation.
The Independent Viewers
Table #1. Independent Viewers Survey (see Table )
The total number of Independent Viewers who participated in this study was 107 (Table 1). Most of them were young adults (under 25) - 57%, never been married - 54%, 70% of responders were male, 30% - female, had a Masters Degree - 36%.
71% of the viewers liked the physical appearance of the prosthesis after Boyd/Syme Amputation and 55% said they would choose Boyd/Syme Amputation for themselves. 51% of the viewers thought that physical appearance of the prosthesis after Van Nes Rotationplasty would have a negative impact on person's chance to get a job, 41% - person's chance to get raises or promotions.
Our research indicates that superior physical appearance of the prosthesis after Boyd/Syme Amputation has a positive impact on the social, professional, and private life of a patient.
The goal of this study was to evaluate how the specific types of procedures and the specific prosthetic design characteristics, like cosmesis, affect the physical appearance in children and adolescents who are PFFD patients.
Some difficulties encountered in the process of this research project included the following three. First, as with any study in the prosthetics field, amputee recruitment presented a challenge, especially because we focused on such a rare disease as PFFD. Second, Patient #3 did not agree to have her photograph taken (for personal reasons). Third, we were uncertain of the honesty of the Independent Viewers. As shown in the Results section, some inconsistencies were found in Independent Viewers Survey answers, and these can be explained by several different factors:
1st patient's photos are of higher resolution and therefore look better;
Appearance of the sound side leg of Patient #1 is better than Patient #2;
It is possible that some Independent Viewers were hasty and did not pay careful attention to the questions asked.
These are reasons for why we think some people (about 9%) checked answer "2 Photo" for the question: "Which prosthesis has better physical appearance?" but same people chose "1 Photo" for the question "Who would you feel more comfortable with in the public place?" Surprisingly, a high level of superstition was detected among the Independent Viewers. About 12% of all Subjects absolutely refused to answer which procedure/prosthesis they would choose for themselves, explaining their decision that if they acknowledge this possibility it might happen someday. Even though we were careful not to bias the subjects in the composed Surveys, some people felt uncomfortable to think, that their leg can be amputated. In future investigations this need to be addressed.
Even Patient #3 did not agree to do pictures (for personal reasons), but was willing to participate in our "Amputee Survey". We decided not only to collect this data, but to do it twice due to such unique consequences: initially she had Van Nes Rotationplasty, and a couple of years later underwent true Symes Amputation due to complications and dissatisfaction with initial results. Both procedures were done when patient was an Adult (21y.o. and 23y.o.), and she was able to clearly identify all positive and negative outcomes after both procedures. Therefore, Patient #3 filled out the Amputee Survey 1st time as an Amputee after Van Nes Rotationplasty, 2nd time as an Amputee after Syme Amputation. During the phone interview patient mentioned that she chose Van Nes Rotationplasty for higher function results, but was surprised to find the opposite (for example, kneeling was not an option for her). It is why after a prolonged rehabilitation, a lot of complications in fitting of the socket, poor and nondurable cosmesis of her prosthesis, she made the decision to do a Symes Amputation.
Our data shows that the prosthesis physical appearance and its appraisal, both by the patients themselves and by the society, is an important factor in patients' success in social, professional and private spheres of their lives. Our research shows that superior physical appearance of the prosthesis after Boyd/Syme Amputation is in turn statistically predictive of greater success in patients' social, professional and private lives.
These findings are important because they can help patients make a better and a more informed decision regarding the best procedure given their situation. The findings of our study help advance our overall goal of using empirical findings to enhance the quality of life of children and adolescents with PFFD.
The authors thank individuals who acted as expert consultants: Steve Gard, PhD, Northwestern University, Chicago, U.S.A. and Boris G. Spivak, M.D., PhD, Institute of Prosthetic Design, Moscow, Russia.
Our sincere thanks also is extended to Vladimir A. Kholopov, PhD, Moscow State Academy, Moscow, Russia and Liudmila V. Pereverzeva, M.S., Oryel, Russia for their contributions in assisting with data collection.
We also are extremely grateful to Lubov Romantseva, M.D., University of Chicago Hospitals, U.S.A., for reviewing and editing this document.
We would like to thank Bert Voskuil, CPO, Utrecht, Nederland for allowing to reprint pictures of prostheses, made by him.
We are very thankful to the individuals with PFFD who took the time to do pictures, complete the survey and share with us their personal experiences, as well as to the independent viewers for participating in this research.
The Author wishes to thank Bert Voskuil, CPO and Robert Lipshutz, BSME, CP for the reproduction of the images.
Aitken G.T., M.D. The Child Amputee an Overview. Journal of the Association of Children's Prosthetic-Orthotic Clinics 1984; 19(2).
Varni J.W., Setoguchi Y. Self-Perceived Physical Appearance in Children and Adolescents with Congenital/Acquired Limb Deficiencies. Journal of the Association of Children's Prosthetic-Orthotic Clinics 1991; 26(2):56.
Alman B.A. M.D.; Krajbich I.J. M.D., F.R.C.S.; Hubbard S. O.T.R., R.P.T. Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency: Results of Rotationplasty and Syme Amputation. The Journal of Bone & Joint Surgery 1995; 77-A(12):1876 1882.
Fowler E, Zernicke R., Setoguchi Y., Oppenheim W. Energy Expenditure during Walking by Children Who Have Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency. The Journal of Bone & Joint Surgery 1996; 78:1857-62.
Wallander J.L., Varni J.W. Effects of Pediatric Chronic Physical Disorders on Child and family Adjustments. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 1998; 39(1): 29-46.
Heineman A.W., Bode R.K., O'Reilly C. Development and measurement properties of the Orthotics and Prosthetics Users' Survey (OPUS): a comprehensive set of clinical outcome instruments. Prosthetics and Orthotics International, 2003; 27:191-206.
Legro M.W., PhD, Reiber G.D., PhD, Smith D.G., MD, del Aguila, M., MSc, Larsen J, RN, Boone D., MPH, CP. Prosthesis Evaluation Questionnaire for Persons with Lower Limb Amputations: Assessing Prosthesis-Related Quality of Life. Archive Physical Medical Rehabilitation, 1998; 79(8): 931-8.
Legro M.W., PhD, Reiber G.D., PhD, Smith D.G., MD, del Aguila, M., MSc, Larsen J, RN, Boone D., MPH, CP, Ajax M.J., Sangeorzan B. Issues of importance reported by persons with lower limb amputations and prosthesis. J Rehab Res Dev. 1999; 36(3): 155-63.Nielsen C.C., PhD. A Survey of Amputees: Functional level and Life Satisfaction, Information Needs, and the Prosthetist's Role. Journal of Prosthetics and Orthotics, 1991; 3(3):125. | {
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Kudoa quadricornis is een microscopische parasiet uit de familie Kudoidae. Kudoa quadricornis werd in 2003 beschreven door Whipps, Adlard, Bryant & Kent.
Myxozoa | {
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Q: Replace excess text with elipses (...) The snippet pretty much explains what I want. How do I do this with html5/css/js?
body {
background-color: teal;
color: orange;
font-family: verdana;
text-transform: uppercase;
word-wrap: break-word;
}
#song {
background-color: turquoise;
border-radius: 15px;
padding: 10px;
margin-bottom: 15px;
box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px black;
}
.button {
border-radius: 5px;
border: solid orange 1px;
box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px pink;
background-color: cyan;
color: white;
cursor: hand;
opacity: 0.75;
}
.button:hover {
opacity: 1.0;
}
#play {
width: 100px;
height: 100px;
}
#play img {
height: 100%;
width: 100%;
position: relative;
}
.title {
text-transform: uppercase;
display: inline;
position: relative;
top: -30px;
left: 10px;
}
<h1>REPLACE THIS:</h1>
<!--original code-->
<div id="song">
<button class="button" id="play">
<img src="http://lizkhoo.com/content/play-icon.png">
</button>
<h1 class="title">I am a really really really long song title</h1>
</div>
<!--end original code-->
<h1>WITH THIS:</h1>
<div id="song">
<button class="button" id="play">
<img src="http://lizkhoo.com/content/play-icon.png">
</button>
<h1 class="title">I am a really...</h1>
</div>
A: JSFIDDLE
http://jsfiddle.net/4kayztrs/
I think I know what you are talking about but not really clear. Try this out.
.title {
text-overflow: ellipsis;
width: 210px;
white-space: nowrap;
overflow: hidden;
}
You can change the width until you get the right styling you want.
A: I believe this might work.
function shorten(text, maxLength) {
var ret = text;
if (ret.length > maxLength) {
ret = ret.substr(0,maxLength-3) + "...";
}
return ret;
}
OR:
textoverflow:ellipsis
in CSS will accomplish this also. sometimes it is better to use CSS because it will automatically do it. But its your choice.
A: If I understand your question correctly, this should do the trick :
var nbCharMax = 12 // Max number of char you want after text shortening
var longText = document.getElementById("longText");
longText.innerHTML = longText.innerHTML.substring(0, nbCharMax) + "...";
<div id="longText">I'm a really really long text</div>
| {
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Calabar – miasto w Nigerii, położone nad rzekami Calabar i Great Qua, stolica stanu Cross River. Według danych z 2005 roku miasto liczyło 461 832 mieszkańców.
Historia
Istnieje od blisko dwóch tysięcy lat. Europejczycy znają je od XV stulecia.
Miasto zostało założone na początku XVII wieku przez lud Efików. Centrum handlu niewolnikami w XVII-XIX w. Przypuszcza się, że kilkanaście procent ludzi wywiezionych do Nowego Świata przeszło przez port Calabar. Od roku 1884 miasto znalazło się w protektoracie brytyjskim. W mieście miały siedziby władze Protektoratu Wybrzeża Nigru, Protektoratu Południowego i Protektoratu Oil River. Wraz z rozwijającym się handlem i rosnącą obecnością Europejczyków powstawały nowe budowle - koszary wojskowe, pierwszy kościół prezbiteriański (szkocki) w 1846, pierwsza linia kolejowa w kraju, pierwsza nowoczesna sieć drogowa, pierwszy publiczny szpital (pw. św. Małgorzaty), najstarszy urząd pocztowy i jeden z dwu najstarszych ogrodów botanicznych w Nigerii. Na początku XIX wieku kwitło życie kulturalne - powstawały stowarzyszenia i szkoły.
W Calabar mieści się uniwersytet założony w 1975 r., muzeum, park botaniczny, kompleks sportowy i park edukacyjny dotyczący historii niewolnictwa.
Gospodarka
Calabar jest portem morskim i handlowym; wywóz kauczuku, drewna, oleju palmowego; przemysł drzewny, spożywczy, gumowy. Ośrodek tradycyjnego rzemiosła (wyroby z drewna).
Linki zewnętrzne
Oficjalna strona uniwersytetu Calabar
Miasta w stanie Cross River
Calabar (miasto) | {
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The Edinburgh and Dalkeith Railway opened Portobello railway station in July 1832. It remained in use until 1846 when a replacement station was opened nearby on the NBR Main Line.
History
References
Notes
Sources
Disused railway stations in Edinburgh
Railway stations in Great Britain opened in 1832
Railway stations in Great Britain closed in 1846
Former North British Railway stations | {
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Category: Live-Plays
Back by popular demand! Ronnie Burkett's holiday hit Little Dickens: The Daisy Theatre returns to The Cultch this December!
In Ronnie Burkett's Little Dickens, the cast of The Daisy Theatre take on the beloved holiday classic, A Christmas Carol, in the merriest marionette mash-up ever.
Pi Theatre Turns Patriarchy Upside Down in Raucous Canadian Premiere of Taylor Mac's Hir
Subversive Black Comedy Presents Scorched Earth Portrait of the Ultimate Dysfunctional Family
Akram Khan Co. presents exquisite gem of dance theatre with solo 'Chotto Desh'
Review: Backbone astounds audiences with incredible circus stunts
In Backbone, ten world-class acrobats take the stage in ever more astonishing stunts. Literally thrown back and forth—and in every direction—they toss themselves headfirst into unthinkable configurations; their bodies unimaginable building blocks as they challenge the various perceptions of what strength is, where it comes from and how it is measured. This frenetic celebration of human interconnectedness will test the limits of strength: physical, emotional, individual, and collective.
Dumb Instrument Dance presents the premiere of Ziyian Kwan's newest creation, Public and Private
To move forward is predictable. I want to move sideways, upside down, to slide backwards into things that don't yet exist. I invite a team of remarkable artists into this work, so that we can mine our autonomy and in so doing, invent a microcosm of community
This Duet We've Already Done (so many times) brings Montreal dance virtuoso, Frédérick Gravel back to Vancouver
This Duet We've Already Done (so many times) explores the intimacy of human relationship, relying on our knowledge of the familiar form of duet, while leaving room for creative decisions made in the moment by two world class dancers.
'VTS Channel' Presents the Heartwarming Holiday Special Merry Kiss-mas
A new holiday tradition from Vancouver TheatreSports™ Merry Kiss-mas is a celebration of these sappy, warm-hearted and cheesy (but kind of fun) movies we all love to watch during the holiday season.
The Chan Centre Presents Riveting Evening of Spontaneity, Bridging Jazz Eras with Joshua Redman's Still Dreaming
Back in 2015 I had the pleasure of seeing Still Dreaming at the legendary Jazz Standard in New York City. I was struck not only by the talent and artistry of these performers, but also by how they were able to connect and communicate with the audience through this beautiful and time-honoured music — music that is wonderfully approachable in spite of its nuance and complexity. Truly, it is the kind of show that engages both the heart and the mind
Carousel Theatre kicks off the holiday spirit with A Charlie Brown Holiday Double-Bill!
Then join Charlie Brown in A Charlie Brown Christmas as he tries to direct his friends in the school Christmas pageant. With help from his friends and a ragged little tree, Charlie Brown discovers what the season is really all about.
Contemporary rendition of all-time classic A Christmas Story refreshes the festive season with heartfelt, coming-of-age story of Christmas wishes
Align Entertainment presents the hilarious holiday classic A Christmas Story: The Musical from November 2–17, 2018, at the Michael J. Fox Theatre in Burnaby. The multi-Ovation Award-winning producers have assembled a talented cast… Read more "Contemporary rendition of all-time classic A Christmas Story refreshes the festive season with heartfelt, coming-of-age story of Christmas wishes" | {
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wp-widget-template
==================
Template to create Wordpress widget plug-ins.
By: [@AlexWhedbee](https://github.com/alexwhedbee)
| {
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Q: Easy Scroll-Based Animations using CSS Custom Properties Now that support for custom css properties is becoming widespread, I had in mind to use them to simplify the creation of scroll-based animations. In Javascript, I'm using style.setProperty('--customProperty', value) to adjust the custom properties on specific elements as the user scrolls.
It works beautifully in Chrome, Firefox, and Safari 10.
But, in Safari 9.1 (which does support custom properties), I can only set the property once. After having been set, it will not update to a new value.
I've got it all in CodePen: https://codepen.io/kirkhadden/pen/JJbXmE/
// Have we scrolled since the last frame?
if (position != wrapper[0].scrollpos) {
// Keeps updating accurately every frame:
window.log.text(position);
// Only happens on the first frame:
wrapper[0].style.setProperty('--scrollpos', position+'px', '');
wrapper[0].scrollpos = position;
} else { // No Change
return false;
}
I can't find any information or even mention of this behavior. I've tested other, simpler uses of style.setProperty() in Safari, and I continue to find that once a property is set, Safari won't update the same property, even if I try to remove the property first.
Is this a bug in Safari 9.1? Is there a work-around? Is there another way to use javascript to set css variables?
Update
So, instead of style.setProperty, I could instead use jQuery's .attr() method to set the property. It's not ideal, since that will overwrite any other style properties, but it works for this.
The bigger problem is that this whole solution is based on the idea of setting ordinary css animations on all my animated elements, but setting the play-state to 'paused', and then using javascript to manipulate the animation-delay according to the scroll position. This allows me to take advantage of inheritance to animate lots of things with minimal DOM manipulation.
Once again, Safari 9.1 is the road block, since it appears that unlike Chrome or Firefox, if the play-state is 'paused', Safari does not start the animation at all, and ignores the animation-delay.
A: You can try to polyfill CSS variables via JavaScript
For example:
let variables =
{
color: "red",
border: "2px solid blue"
}
// Get STYLE tag
let style = document.getElementById('custom');
// Save its original text
style.dataset.source = style.innerHTML;
function updateStyle()
{
// Replace variables names with their values
style.innerHTML = style.dataset.source.replace(/@(\w+)/g, function(match, name)
{
return variables[name];
});
}
updateStyle();
Now you can use @variableName in your CSS and it'll be replaced with value of variables.variableName
Fiddle: https://jsfiddle.net/JacobDesight/v7mqps84/
@EDIT
You can even create a function for settings variables:
function setProperty(name, value)
{
variables[name] = value;
updateStyle();
}
Now you just simply do something like:
setProperty('color', 'green');
And it will automatically update styles.
Fiddle: https://jsfiddle.net/JacobDesight/v7mqps84/1/
| {
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1719 Grey 1 beds one baths, Evanston,IL 1 beds apartment located in Evanston. Very peaceful Neighborhood Section eight welcomeAccepting 1 beds county voucher For more properties like this visit GoSection8.com.
1719 Grey Ave 2E is a One Bedroom One Bath Apartments for Rent at 1719 Grey Avenue 2e in Evanston IL. Find other listings like 1719 Grey Ave 2E and listings near 1719 Grey Avenue 2e by searching Oodle Classifieds for One Bedroom One Bath Apartments for Rent in Evanston IL. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
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Though I work by day developing the AP Physics Exam for an internationally renowned testing firm in Princeton, I'm available to tutor on weekday evenings (in-person near Princeton, but online anywhere) and weekends (in-person throughout central and northern NJ, but online anywhere).
EDUCATIONAL RESEARCH, CONFIRMED BY MY OWN EXPERIENCE AS A STUDENT (I HAVE 2 MASTER'S DEGREES), HAS FOUND THAT STUDENTS LEARN BEST IN GROUP STUDY. MY TUTORING THUS SIMULATES GROUP STUDY, BUT WITH AN ADVANTAGE: MY CONTENT EXPERTISE & TEACHING EXPERIENCE ENABLE ME TO ASK STUDENTS CRITICAL CONCEPT-REVEALING QUESTIONS. I THEN SUBTLY GUIDE THE STUDENTS IN THEIR ANSWERS.
Note: To obtain a rate not posted, the associated tutoring rates listed below are available only if you EXPLICITLY agree (via e-mail) to the conditions listed below for the associated rates.
Restrictions: 1) Student must have attempted his/her HW problems & e-mailed me the ones that he/she needs to review. 2) Student must also coordinate w/ a schoolmate who has same HW. 3) Schoolmate must take the tutoring session immediately after (or before) the student's. Both of these sessions must take place in the same location, either the student's or the schoolmate's home.
Restrictions: 1) Students must have attempted their HW problems & e-mailed me the ones that they need to review. 2) Students must also coordinate w/ one another. They must both have the same HW.
I have a Masters in Education, and I teach STEM study skills in the context of problem solving in Science & Math. I developed these study methods for myself when I was a college student studying Math & Science (Pre-Engineering). These methods proved very successful when combined with study partnering. My tutoring, thus, is essentially a support of these independent study methods, combined with my study partnering with the student.
ACT English is composed mainly of 2 types of multiple choice questions: Grammar questions and Style questions. Accordingly, my tutoring is broken up into these 2 separate components. Whether you need both depends upon an OBJECTIVE assessment of your performance on a relatively brief pre-test that I request you take prior to this ACT Prep course. Problem-solving strategies for both types of questions are developed via an ACT Prep text, but practiced - and augmented - under my expert guidance in a workbook during our sessions.
As the Senior Developer of SAT Prep for a Shenzhen (China) firm that guides high school students through the process of selecting and applying to US colleges, my SAT Prep Reading focus is on problem-solving strategies. Most of my SAT Prep methods, including my Reading Prep method, are based upon students solving problems in such a way that they methodically learn from their mistakes. Though I've since earned a Master's in Education, I initially developed this learn-from-your-mistakes Method myself as a Physics student in college. I've since found that other successful college students developed this method for themselves, as well. The Method: Students 1st take a diagnostic test, identifying their Reading weaknesses. Accordingly they study and practice in a Reading workbook. Initially this is done in tutoring sessions, in which I serve as an academic coach. (In the education biz, this is called "scaffolding".) Soon, however, students also do this study/practice themselves during independent study between sessions. During the session that follows an independent study, I review only the problems with which the student had difficulty. Our time is thus used most efficiently. Moreover, during these sessions, in the context of reviewing these difficult problems, I also introduce test-taking strategies. Next, this learn-from-your-mistakes process, which I merely coach, is applied beyond the workbook. It is applied to the Reading sections of Practice Tests. RE the new SAT: I've learned to take my lead from Princeton Review's SAT Prep books. These books have now integrated changes for the new SAT. I have thus updated my course accordingly.
I helped a recent SAT Writing student get a perfect Writing score. (On a previous SAT, for which I had been hired to prep her in Math only, the student had raised her Math score by 100 points, but she was unsatisfied w/ her Writing score. Unfortunately, since her tutoring was not through WyzAnt, none of her feedback is posted below.) SAT Writing is composed of Grammar (i.e., multiple-choice questions) and the Essay. Accordingly, my tutoring is broken up into these 2 separate components. Whether you need both depends upon an OBJECTIVE assessment of your performance on a relatively brief pre-test that I request you take prior to this SAT Prep course. Grammar Tutoring: Problem-solving strategies are developed via an SAT Prep text, but practiced - and augmented - under my expert guidance in a workbook during our sessions. Essay Tutoring: A high-scoring SAT Essay is not simply like a well-written standard essay. Hence, strategies for writing SAT Essays are not the same as methods for writing standard essays. Again, using an SAT Prep text, strategies for writing the SAT Essay are developed. Between sessions & during sessions (i.e. under my DIRECT guidance & review), the student will practice these strategies. RE the new SAT: I've learned to take my lead from Princeton Review's SAT Prep books. These books have now integrated changes for the new SAT. I have thus updated my course accordingly.
My tutoring preps students for all components of TOEFL: Reading, Listening, Speaking, and Writing. I have been trained & certified to score the Speaking component of TOEFL, so I tutor Speaking. Since I'm an experienced (approx. 800 hours) SAT Prep tutor, I also tutor the Reading & Writing components of TOEFL. And of course, I also tutor the Listening component - I'm a native-born American, so I have listened to American English for over 50 years. FYI: For the education consulting firm at which I tutor SAT Prep in Shenzhen (near Hong Kong), I also teach a TOEFL Prep (Speaking) course I developed.
I have a Master's Degree in Science Teaching (Biology specialty) & scored 100% on the Science exam for Science teachers in NJ. I teach all levels of Biology, including AP Biology (i.e. college Bio taught in high school). For AP Biology sessions prior to Spring Break, I concentrate on concepts, using 2 modes of study: 1. acquisition (mostly through reading of the AP text while I pose strategic questions) AND 2. quality-check of study (mostly through answering multiple choice questions using my "honesty method" and answering interactive questions in a study guide) During Spring Break, and until the AP Exam, I concentrate on the Essay and practicing strategies for answering Multiple Choice questions.
As a student and tutor of Physics, I've long used Calculus as a tool. The methods that I use to tutor Calculus are similar to those I use to tutor Physics. My Calculus tutoring is tailored to students who wish to study Calculus (and perhaps also Chem, Physics, and/or Biology) themselves, but sometimes want discreet hints or conceptual clarification in their independent study. In the context of guiding students through their solving of quantitative problems, I provide such backup strategically. Moreover, thanks to my knowledge of Chemistry, Physics, Biology, and Calculus (I similarly "StudyPartner" with students in all these subjects, as well as tutoring MCAT Prep), I can also show students connections to these other subjects. For AP Calculus sessions prior to Spring Break, I concentrate on concepts, using problem-solving as the context for deeper study. Through the solving of problems, and the associated study required, students simultaneously -apply concepts -assess their understanding of concepts -review concepts as necessary During Spring Break, through until the AP Exam, I concentrate on test-taking strategies and practice for the Multiple Choice (MC) section of the AP Exam.
I have a Master's Degree in Science Teaching & scored 100% on the Science exam for Science teachers in NJ. I teach all levels of Chemistry, including college Chemistry & AP Chemistry (i.e. college Chem taught in high school). For AP Chem sessions prior to Spring Break, I concentrate on concepts, using problem-solving as the context for deeper study. Through the solving of problems, and the associated study required, students simultaneously -apply concepts -assess their understanding of concepts -review concepts as necessary During Spring Break, through until the AP Exam, I concentrate on test-taking strategies and practice for the Multiple Choice section of the AP Exam.
I have a Master's Degree in Science Teaching & scored 100% on the Science exam for Science teachers in NJ. I teach all levels of Physics, including college Physics & AP Physics (i.e., college Physics taught in high school). The methods and schedule that I use to tutor Physics are similar to those used for the other Science I tutor that is based on quantitative HW problems: Chemistry. Hence, for AP Physics sessions prior to Spring Break, I concentrate on concepts, using problem-solving as the context for deeper study. Through the solving of problems, and the associated study required, students simultaneously -apply concepts -assess their understanding of concepts -review concepts as necessary During Spring Break, through until the AP Exam, I concentrate on test-taking strategies & practice for the Multiple Choice (MC) section of the AP Exam. For Physics, the calculator ban for the MC section limits the types of questions that can be asked. These types of questions have inherent weaknesses that the student can exploit.
I helped a recent SAT Math student raise her Math score by 100 points. (Unfortunately, since her tutoring was not through WyzAnt, her feedback is not posted below.) Thanks to my Physics background, I regularly use Math as a tool. My SAT Math method is based upon students solving problems in such a way that they methodically learn from their mistakes. Though I've since earned a Master's in Education, I initially developed this learn-from-your-mistakes Method myself as a Physics student in college. I've since found that other successful college students developed this method for themselves, as well. The Method: Students 1st take a diagnostic test, identifying their Math weaknesses. Accordingly they study and practice in a Math workbook. Initially this is done in tutoring sessions, in which I serve as an academic coach. (In the education biz, this is called "scaffolding".) Soon, however, students also do this study/practice themselves during independent study between sessions. During the session that follows an independent study, I review only the problems with which the student had difficulty. Our time is thus used most efficiently. Moreover, during these sessions, in the context of reviewing these difficult problems, I also introduce test-taking strategies. Next, this learn-from-your-mistakes process, which I merely coach, is applied beyond the workbook. It is applied to the Math sections of Practice Tests. RE the new SAT: I've learned to take my lead from Princeton Review's SAT Prep books. These books have now integrated changes for the new SAT. I've thus updated my course accordingly.
ACT Math is similar to SAT Math. I helped a recent SAT Math student raise her Math score by 100 points. (Unfortunately, since her tutoring was not through WyzAnt, her feedback is not posted below.) Thanks to my Physics background, I regularly use Math as a tool. My ACT Math method is based upon students solving problems in such a way that they methodically learn from their mistakes. Though I've since earned a Master's in Education, I initially developed this learn-from-your-mistakes method myself as a Physics student in college. I've since found that other successful college students developed this method for themselves, as well. The Method: Students 1st take a diagnostic test, identifying their Math weaknesses. Accordingly they study and practice in a Math workbook. Initially this is done in tutoring sessions, in which I serve as an academic coach. (In the education biz, this is called "scaffolding".) Soon, however, students also do this study/practice themselves during independent study between sessions. During the session that follows an independent study, I review only the problems with which the student had difficulty. Our time is thus used most efficiently. Moreover, during these sessions, in the context of reviewing these difficult problems, I also introduce test-taking strategies. Next, this learn-from-your-mistakes process, which I merely coach, is applied beyond the workbook. It is applied to the Math sections of Practice Tests.
Though I also tutor Sciences at all levels (including college), the ACT Science test does not test the student's knowledge of Science. Rather, it combines Reading Comprehension, Reasoning, & Analysis of Graphs. Most of my ACT Prep methods, including my ACT Science Prep method, are based upon students solving problems in such a way that they methodically learn from their mistakes. Though I've since earned a Master's in Education, I initially developed this learn-from-your-mistakes method myself as a Physics student in college. I've since found that other successful college students developed this method for themselves, as well. The Method: Students first take a diagnostic test, identifying their Reading weaknesses. Afterward they study and practice in an ACT Science workbook. Initially this is done in tutoring sessions, in which I serve as an academic coach. (In the education biz, this is called "scaffolding.") Soon, however, students also do this study/practice themselves during independent study between sessions. During the session that follows an independent study, I review only the problems with which the student had difficulty. Our time is thus used most efficiently. Moreover, during these sessions, in the context of reviewing these difficult problems, I also introduce test-taking strategies. Next, this learn-from-your-mistakes process, which I merely coach, is applied beyond the workbook. It is applied to the Science sections of ACT Practice Tests.
Since 2007, I've worked as a private tutor of college General Physics, General Chemistry, & General Biology. Before this I taught Biology in NYC. Before that I was a Biomedical Researcher. (I ran experiments in the early development of an antibiotic.) Before that I worked for an engineering firm. In 2007, I earned an Master's in Science Education from Hunter College (New York, NY). In 2004 & 2006, a national test prep firm trained me to teach MCAT Physics & Chem. In 1998, I earned a Master's in Environmental Health from University of Medicine & Dentistry of NJ / Rutgers (Piscataway, NJ). In 1986, I earned a Bachelor's in Mechanical Engineering Foundations from The Evergreen State College (Olympia, WA).
Daniel is a top-tier testing advisor, tutor and coach. My son saw a meaningful increase in his performance due to these three very different roles that Daniel seems to embody effortlessly. As an advisor, his strategic guidance brought efficiencies to the way my son approached the test. As a tutor, Daniel's command of the subject matter was superlative. As a coach, his emotional support was like that of a professional sports coach helping a star athlete improve their 'psychological' game. My son is a more confident test-taker for having learned Daniel's methods.
Daniel covers test taking strategies not previously learned in other SAT preparation courses. He has a good rapport with his students and good follow-up with parents. He is reliable in scheduling sessions and communicates in a timely fashion.
Daniel helped me understand what problems I need to fix in tutoring and I hope we can do more tutoring.
We thank Dan, he helped our son to increase his ACT score from 26 to 30 and he is accepted to all the colleges he applied. Dan always know how to analyze the needs our son and how he can teach him.
Dan is preparing my 17 years old son for the SAT2 subjects tests in math/physics. Their sessions seem very productive and helpful. Danny gets the explanation provided and seem to.undetstand the materials.
Daniel systematically plugged holes in my son's knowledge in math and science. He does not teach you how to do tests; he teaches you the fundamentals of the subject. You will do better in the tests as a result, but more importantly you will have a better understanding of how the world works.
Dan is very understanding of the problems my son has with Math. He is very patient his teaching methodologies are very unique and are helping my son improve his math skills. | {
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Downloadnewapp is a platform which lets you discover the best products across the categories Yoga, Baby Names, Funny Jokes, Hindi Shayri, Aloe Vera Benefits, Best Apps, Best Mobiles, Best Tablets, Best Laptops, Best Electronics, Best Computers, Best Lifestyle, Best Cameras, Best Books, Best Appliances, Best Personal Care. Here you can also find all Useful Topics like Yoga for Health and Beauty, Aloe Vera Benefits, Beauty Tips, Health Tips and Baby Names with Meanings etc.
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Q: Failing to import a module from a different folder in VSCode I am trying to run a python file with VSCode. I opened VSCode in the Project directory and this is the directory structure.
Project/
src/
a/
b.py
C/
d.py
__init__.py
The problem I have is similar to this one, however, the reported error is different. Therefor, I don't know what to do.
Inside b.py there is the following line
form C import d
but when I run this I get the following error:
[Running] /usr/bin/python3 "... /b.py"
Traceback (most recent call last):
File "... /b.py", line 8, in <module>
import C.d
ModuleNotFoundError: No module named 'C'
What should I do?
Thank You.
A: Inside b.py
Add the following
import sys
sys.path.append("/../Project/src/C") #here /../ denotes the full path
import d
A: a working example for similar structure. program should runover from main.py
project
│
├── a
│ └── b.py
├── c
│ └── d.py
└── main.py
d.py
print('d imported')
b.py
from c import d
main.py
from a import b
python main.py
output
d imported
A: Reason:
The path of folder src does not in the sys.path(PYTHONPATH).
Solution:
You can do this to modify the PYTHONPATH:
*
*Add these in the settings.json file to Modify the PYTHONPATH in the terminal:
"terminal.integrated.env.windows": {
"PYTHONPATH": "xxx/site-packages"
}
*Create a .env file under your workspace, and add these settings in it to modify the PYTHONPATH for the extension and debugger:
PYTHONPATH=xxx/site-packages
You can refer to here to understand the effects of these two configurations.
*Modify it directly in the python file. Add these codes in the b.py file.
import sys; sys.path.append("xxx/Project/src")
| {
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\section{Introduction}
Since the organic-inorganic hybrid perovskite was first proposed in 2009, the photovoltaic efficiency has been significantly jumped to over 23\% that is close to the maximum efficiency of crystalline silicon solar cell\cite{1, 2, 3}. The hybrid perovskite has a chemical formula ABX$_{3}$, where A$^{+}$ is organic cation (e.g., CH$_{3}$NH$_{3}^{+}$, CH(NH$_{2}$)$_{2}^{+}$), B$^{2+}$ is the post-transition metal with ns$^{2}$ electronic configurations (Pb$^{2+}$, Sn$^{2+}$, Ge$^{2+}$, Sb$^{3+}$, Bi$^{3+}$), and X$^{-}$ is the halide anion (Cl$^{-}$, Br$^{-}$, I$^{-}$). The unique traits, including the ideal direct band gaps, high dielectric constants, shallow defect levels, low electron-hole recombination rates, and long carrier lifetime contribute to the prominent optoelectronic performances of organic-inorganic hybrid perovskites \cite{4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10}. Despite the remarkable efficiencies of the hybrid lead-based perovskites, as seen in CH$_{3}$NH$_{3}$PbI$_{3}$ (MAPbI$_{3}$) \cite{2, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16}, the poor long-term stability against temperature, oxygen, moisture and exposure to light causes chemical and optical degradation that hinder their wide use \cite{17, 18, 19, 20}. This poor stability is associated with the volatilization and disordered vibrations of small organic cations \cite{18, 19, 21}. Moreover, the toxicity of water-soluble lead compounds drives the exploitation of alternative inorganic lead-free halide perovskite materials with improved stability \cite{22}.
Recently, the inorganic DPs (A$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral1})B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral3})X$_{6}$, A$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral4})X$_{6}$) have been proposed as environmentally friendly and promising alternatives for lead-free hybrid perovskites \cite{23}. However, the light-absorbing materials with suitable and direct band gaps are extremely scarce. For A$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral1})B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral3})X$_{6}$ type, Volonakis et al. have performed a theoretical screening on Cs$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral1})B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral3})X$_{6}$, B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral1}) = Cu, Ag, Au, B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral3}) = Bi, Sb, some of which a portion of materials with appropriate but indirect band gap are predicted \cite{24}. Zhao et al. also screened 64 compounds and only 5 potential direct-band-gap light absorbing materials were obtained\cite{25}. The same type of Cs$_{2}$AgBiBr$_{6}$ has been synthesized experimentally and achieved 2.43\% PCE \cite{26}, the low efficiency may be associated with the large indirect band gap of about 2 eV \cite{27}. For A$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral4})X$_{6}$ type, there are several materials with suitable band gaps known in theory and experiment, such as Cs$_{2}$TeI$_{6}$, Cs$_{2}$SnI$_{6}$ and Cs$_{2}$TiI$_{6}$ \cite{28, 29, 30}, but only Cs$_{2}$SnI$_{6}$ possesses direct band gap. Therefore, the exploration of inorganic DPs with direct and appropriate band gaps are highly desired. In addition, the fact that crystalline Si solar cells are widely commercialized but more costly in production has inspired us to explore the properties of Si-based DPs compounds in theory.
In this paper, we initially calculated the structure and band gap for a series of earth-abundant Si-based DPs A$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ (A = K, Rb, Cs, X = Cl, Br, I ) based on the first-principles calculations. Three iodides A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ (A = K, Rb, Cs) are found to have suitable direct band gaps of 0.84-1.15 eV. The electronic, optical properties of the three candidates are systemically investigated. The results indicate that the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ are more suitable for n-type semiconductors and can be utilized as high efficiency optical absorbers. Importantly, K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ exhibit high thermal stability and thus hold great promise for future optoelectronic devices.
\section{Computational details}
Density hybridized functional theory calculations were performed by the Vienna ab initio simulation package with the projected augmented-wave pseudopotential\cite{31, 32}. The generalized gradient approximation (GGA) with the Perdew-Burke-Ernzerhof (PBE) and that revised for solids (PBEsol) exchange-correlation functional was employed for the structural relaxation\cite{33, 34, 35}. The convergence criteria of the total energy and Hellmann-Feynman force on atom were set to 1$\times$10$^{-5}$ eV and 0.001 eV/{\AA} and the cut-off energy for the plane-wave basis was set to be 400 eV. In order to avoid the underestimates of the band gaps of semiconductors, the Heyd-Scuseria-Ernzerhof (HSE06) functional, which incorporates 25\% Hartree-Fock exchange with a screening parameter of $\omega$= 0.11 bohr$^{-1}$ in addition to 75\% exchange-correlation from the PBE hybrid functional, was adopted to correct the electronic and optical properties \cite{36}. Three-dimensional k-meshes were generated using the Gamma 5$\times$5$\times$5 scheme on electronic and optical calculations \cite{37}. For more accuracy, NBANDS is set to three times the number of valence bands in optical property calculations. For transition dipole moment in optical property calculations, the data were post-processed by VASPKIT code \cite{38}. For chemical bonding interaction analysis, the LOBSTER package was used and the ``pbevaspfit2015'' basis sets including 3\emph{s} and 3\emph{p} orbitals for silicon, and the 5\emph{s} and 5\emph{p} orbitals for iodine and carbon, and the 3\emph{s}, 3\emph{p}, 4\emph{s}, 4\emph{p}, 5\emph{s}, 5\emph{p}, 6\emph{s} orbitals for the metals were taken \cite{39}.
\section{Main results and Discussions}
DP is a defect variant for typical perovskite ABX$_{3}$ structure such as MAPbI$_{3}$\cite{40}. In contrast, for the DP with the general formula A$_{2}$BX$_{6}$, half of the octahedral B-sites atoms are missing, generating nearly isolated octahedral [BX$_{6}^{2-}$] units and presenting as the cubic Fm$\overline{3}$m phases\cite{28}. Represented by Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, the DP structure is shown in Fig. \ref{1}(a). We can see that the vacancy-ordered DPs formed by face-centered [SiI$_{6}^{2-}$] units and A-site Cs cations uniformly occupy the voids outer the octahedrons. In our calculations, structural parameters of a series of optimized A$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ DPs (A=K, Rb, Cs; X=Cl, Br, I) are provided in Table S1 (see Ref. \cite{56}). It is found that the lattice constants and Si-X bond lengths gradually increase along with the atomic number of A-site cation and X-site anion severally.
\begin{figure*}[htbp]
\centering
\scalebox{0.60}{\includegraphics{1.pdf}}
\caption{\label{1}The crystal structure of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ with space group Fm$\overline{3}$m. (b) The band gaps of A$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ (A=K, Rb, Cs; X=Cl ,Br ,I) based on HSE06 functional. (c) The total electronic charge density of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ that are viewed from (1 0 0) planar. The isosurface level is 0.5 eV {\AA}$^{-3}$. (d) ELF map sliced of (1 0 0) planar of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$.}
\end{figure*}
Because there are no related studies on Si-based DPs, and HSE06 hybridized functional predicting band gaps of A$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral4})X$_{6}$ type compounds are in good agreement with their experimental values, such as Cs$_{2}$SnI$_{6}$, Cs$_{2}$TiI$_{6}$\cite{30, 41}. Therefore, HSE06 functional is adopted for subsequent electronics and optics investigations.
The band gaps of A$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ (A=K, Rb ,Cs; X=Cl ,Br ,I) DPs are all direct types. Figure \ref{1}(b) displays their band gap values, range from 4.71 to 0.84 eV, including three small gaps with I-containing compounds, namely, K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, which are 0.84 eV, 0.96 eV and 1.15 eV, respectively. For compounds that have the same A-site cation, the gaps follow a tendency of A$_{2}$SiCl$_{6}$ $>$ A$_{2}$SiBr$_{6}$ $>$ A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ that is consistent with the trend of MAPbI$_{3}$ (X = Cl, Br ,I) \cite{42}. This trend can be analyzed by the electronegativity and density of electronic states (DOS). We present the charge density of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ in Fig. \ref{1}(c). As shown, the charge density mainly distribute over I atoms, while Si atoms has few, indicating charges transfer from the less electronegative Si to the more electronegative I. The overlap of the orbitals along the bonding axis reveals its $\sigma$ bonding type. And taking the DOS of Cs$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ as an example (see Ref. \cite{56}), valence band edges mainly origin from X atoms, while both X and Si atoms contribute to conduction band edges in three cases. According to Pauling electronegativity\cite{43}, halogen atoms have the strength order of I (2.66) $<$ Br (2.96) $<$ Cl (3.16). The higher electronegativity of X element, the stronger bond interaction between X and Si atoms, thus raising the conduction band and generating larger band gap. Whereas in the same X-site anion situation, the gaps form a tendency of Cs$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ $>$ Rb$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ $>$ K$_{2}$SiX$_{6}$ and the reason will be explored later in detail.
To achieve deeper insight into the bonding nature, we analysed the electron localization function (ELF). The ELF renormalizes the values range from 0.00 to 1.00. And the values of 1.00 and 0.50 characterize fully localized and delocalized electrons, respectively, while 0.00 denotes a very low charge density\cite{44}. As displayed in Fig. \ref{1}(d), the large red region around I, corresponding to values about 0.90, implies the dominated localized features of valence electrons. Although limbic region of the Si-I bond is in green, it demonstrates weakly delocalized behavior of their high-energy orbital valence electrons.
According to the Shockley-Queisser limit\cite{45}, which is utilized to evaluate the theoretical photovoltaic conversion efficiency (PCE) in a single junction solar cell, a superior light absorber should possess a band gap ranging from 1.0 to 1.5 eV so as to idealize the efficiency\cite{35}. In tandem devices, the maximum PCE requires a rear cell with a gap of 0.9 to1.2 eV\cite{46}. Therefore, we unify the ideal band gap to be in the range of 0.9-1.5 eV. Considering the slight deviation of the band gap of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ (0.84eV), we here have screened three candidates, K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ (A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$) DPs that can be applied in single or tandem solar cells. Moreover, the spin-orbit coupling (SOC) effect is further considered to correct the band. The corrected values are 0.71 eV, 0.82 eV, and 0.99 eV for K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, and Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, respectively. These effects on band gaps are much smaller than that of Cs$_{2}$SnI$_{6}$ or Cs$_{2}$TeI$_{6}$ due to the quite lighter B-site element\cite{41}.
\begin{figure*}[htbp]
\centering
\scalebox{0.20}{ \includegraphics{2.pdf}}
\caption{\label{2}(a)-(c) The projected energy band structures of A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ (A=K, Rb, Cs) DPs calculated by HSE06 functional. Fermi-level is set as zero. (d)-(f) PDOS for Si and I atoms of A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs. }
\end{figure*}
Figure \ref{2}(a)-\ref{2}(c) show the projected band structures of the three promising I-based DPs. We can see that in all three cases, the main components of the band edges are analogous to the situation when the anion are Cl$^{-}$ and Br$^{-}$. With the A-site elements barely involve in the formation of band edges, the lower conduction bands are dominated by the Si and I elements, and the upper valence bands mostly come from the I elements. Both conduction band minimum (CBM) and valence band maximum (VBM) locate in the $\Gamma$ points, proving direct band gaps in these A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs. To visualize the occupied states, Fig. S2(a)-S2(b)\cite{56} provide the wave function distribution plots of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ at VBM and CBM in real space, which can further support our results.
To acquire more band information, we analyze the projected density of electronic states (PDOS) of Si and I atoms near Fermi-level. As shown in Fig. \ref{2}(d)-\ref{2}(f), I-5\emph{p} and hybridized Si-3\emph{s} and I-5\emph{p} orbitals separately constitute the majority of valence and conduction band edges in all three cases. The DOS peaks near the Fermi-level of the three I-based DPs have a significant trend of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $<$ Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $<$ Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, indicating the increasing tendency of I-5\emph{p} bonding states and anti-bonding states between Si-3\emph{s} and I-5\emph{p} orbitals, resulting in the band gap trend of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $<$ Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $<$ Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$.
\begin{figure*}[htbp]
\centering
\scalebox{0.65}{ \includegraphics{3.pdf}}
\caption{\label{3}(a) Wave fuction distributions of VBM related to Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$. (b) and (c) are the wave function maps sliced from [1 0 0] direction of VBM and CBM for Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, respectively. Both slices renormalize the value range from -6.0e$^{-7}$ to 6.0e$^{-7}$, and the common value bar are displayed in the right side. }
\end{figure*}
It is noticed that above the Fermi level, there exists a well dispersive and isolated band with a bandwidth of 1.32 eV, 1.20 eV and 1.03 eV for K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, and Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, respectively [Fig. \ref{2}(a)-\ref{2}(c)]. The wide band dispersion indicates the potential favorable electron mobility. Whereas the dispersion of valence bands is weaker than that above conduction bands, which can be typically illustrated by the wave function distributions at VBM and CBM. Taking Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ as an example, as shown in Fig. \ref{3}(a)-\ref{3}(c), the states of VBM are distributed over partial I atoms, since there are no wave fuction distributions over one third I atoms [Fig. \ref{3}(a)]. But the wave fuction of CBM significantly spreads over all Si and I atoms in our observations. Owing to the smaller absolute value of wave function about CBM [Fig. \ref{3}(b)-\ref{3}(c)], the large delocalized traits related to hybrid Si-3\emph{s} and I-5\emph{p} states are also observed, producing the more dispersive conduction bands than the upper valence bands near the Fermi level.
The well dispersive band directly reflects the small carrier effective mass. By using Equation\ref{eq1}, the carrier effective masses for the K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ were calculated around $\Gamma$ points.
\begin{eqnarray}\frac{1}{m^{\ast }}=\frac{1}{h^{2}}\cdot \frac{\partial^{2}E\left ( k \right )}{\partial k^{2}}
\label{eq1}
\end{eqnarray}
\begin{table}
\caption{The calculated carrier effective masses for the K$_2$SiI$_6$, Rb$_2$SiI$_6$ and Cs$_2$SiI$_6$ based on HSE06+SOC method. $m_e^*$ $=$ electron effective mass; $m_h^*$ $=$ effective mass of a hole.}
\label{table1}
\setlength{\tabcolsep}{9mm}
\begin{tabular}{lcc}
\hline
Compounds & {$m_e^*/m_0$} & {$m_h^*/m_0$}\\
& $\Gamma-X$ & $\Gamma-Y$\\
\hline
K$_2$SiI$_6$ & 0.17 & -0.53 \\
Rb$_2$SiI$_6$ & 0.18 & -0.56 \\
Cs$_2$SiI$_6$ & 0.23 & -0.63 \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\end{table}
As their dispersive conduction bands states revealed, all three DPs possess small effective electron masses [Table \ref{table1}], indicating benign conductivity. The heavier hole masses are also in consistence with the prior wave function analysis, reflecting that A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs are more suitable for n-type semiconductors. The effective masses of all the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs are slightly larger than MAPbI$_{3}$\cite{47}, but smaller than other A$_{2}$B(\uppercase\expandafter{\romannumeral4})X$_{6}$ type compounds, such as Rb$_{2}$PtI$_{6}$ and Cs$_{2}$SnI$_{6}$\cite{41}. The electron effective masses of these three DPs have an increasing tendency: K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $<$ Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $<$ Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, which accords with the dispersion degree of their first conduction bands [Fig. \ref{2}(a)-\ref{2}(c)].
The band structure can directly determine the performance of photon absorption. Then the optical properties of the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs were investigated by calculating the frequency dependent dielectric tensor $\varepsilon \left ( \omega \right ),\varepsilon \left ( \omega \right )=\varepsilon _{1}\left ( \omega \right )+i\varepsilon _{2}\left ( \omega \right )$, where $\varepsilon _{1}\left ( \omega \right )$ and $\varepsilon _{2}\left ( \omega \right )$ are the real and imaginary parts in several, and $\omega$ is the photon frequency\cite{48}. Utilizing dielectric tensor, the optical absorption coefficient $\alpha \left ( \omega \right )$ can be obtained by the following Equation\ref{eq2}.
\begin{eqnarray}\alpha \left ( \omega \right )=\frac{\sqrt{2}\omega }{c}\cdot \left [ \sqrt{\varepsilon _{1}\left ( \omega \right )^{2}+\varepsilon _{2}\left ( \omega \right )^{2}}-\varepsilon _{1}\left ( \omega \right ) \right ]^{/2}
\label{eq2}
\end{eqnarray}
\begin{figure}[htbp]
\centering
\scalebox{0.095} { \includegraphics{4.pdf}}
\caption{\label{4}The optical absorption spectra of the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs calculated by HSE06 functional.}
\end{figure}
As shown in Fig. \ref{4}, the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs happen to exhibit an absorption peak in the visible region. With the increase of band gap, the edges of absorption spectra show a blue shift trend. The absorption ability of these three DPs in visible region follows the trend of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $>$ Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ $>$ Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ based on absorption peak and band width. The wide absorptions in visible region are associated to their dispersive lower conduction band and band gap. To evaluate the optical absorption capacity of the three DPs, we have calculated as well the photon absorption coefficients of monocrystalline silicon for the sake of comparison. As shown in Fig. S3\cite{56}, the indirect band gap value of 1.19 eV is consistent with the experimental value of 1.12 eV\cite{3}. The absorption peak of A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ in the visible region is lower than that of Si, but the absorption width is significantly wider. Considering crystalline silicon solar cells have achieved efficiency exceeding 25\%\cite{3}, the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs seem to be promising lead-free perovskite optical absorption layers.
\begin{figure}[htbp]
\centering
\scalebox{0.11}{ \includegraphics{5.pdf}}
\caption{\label{5}(a) Band structure and parity at $\Gamma$ of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, the cyan lines represent the valence bands corresponding to VBM-4. (b) The cyan line represents the sum of transition matrix elements from the valence band where VBM-4 is located to the conduction band located by CBM, and the black line represents the sum of transition dipole moment from the valence band where VBM is located to the conduction band located by CBM.}
\end{figure}
To probe the origin of the strong light-harvesting capability of the above three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs, we have analyzed the parity-forbidden transitions via calculating the parity and transition dipole moment between valence bands and the conduction bands of interest. Taking Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ as an example, the VBM at the $\Gamma$ point exhibits the even parity, possessing a triple degeneracy and the CBM has also even parity [Fig. \ref{5}(a)]. Therefore, the transition from VBM to CBM would not occur and finally produces the zero transition matrix elements. The lower three valence bands below the degenerately top three valence bands are also threefold degenerate and thus are denoted as VBM-4. VBM-4 owns the odd parity, indicating the transition from VBM-4 to CBM is allowed. As a result, there is transition dipole moment from VBM-4 to CBM. Our result reveals that the direct transition from VBM to CBM is forbidden and the transition matrix elements are mainly originated from transition between VBM-4 and CBM. The dipole-moment-allowed direct optical transitions of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ are 1.73 eV, 1.57 eV and 1.63 eV, respectively. In general, according to the distributions of transition matrix elements in Fig. \ref{5}(b), the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs maintain their absorption characteristics in a wide visible region, suggesting the potential optical absorbers for solar cells. It is worthy to note that K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ would achieve the best optical performance among the three DPs due to the best optical transition gap of 1.57 eV according to the Shockley-Queisser standard \cite{45} and the optimum optical absorption in the visible region.
Stability is one of the most important part of judging the application potential of materials. Therefore, we calculated the elastic constants to evaluate mechanical stability of the three I-based DPs. For cubic crystal system, the elastic constants satisfy the Born stability criterion $C_{11}-C_{12}> 0$, $C_{44}> 0$ and $C_{11}+2C_{12}> 0$, manifesting mechanical stability\cite{49}. These elastic constants are defined as
\begin{eqnarray}C_{ij}=\frac{1}{V_{0}}\cdot \left ( \frac{\partial _{2}E}{\partial\varepsilon _{i}\partial \varepsilon _{j}} \right )
\end{eqnarray}
Here E is the energy of the crystal, $V_{0}$ denotes equilibrium volume, and $\varepsilon$ gives a strain. Table \ref{table2} lists the elastic constants of the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs. Our results reveal the mechanical stability of the three A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs, since the Born stability criterion are well matched.
\begin{table}
\caption{Computed elastic constants C$_{11}$, C$_{12}$ and C$_{44}$ of three A$_2$SiI$_6$ DPs}
\label{table2}
\begin{tabular}{lcccc}
\hline
Compounds & C$_{11}$(GPa) & C$_{12}$(GPa) & C$_{44}$(GPa) & stability \\
\hline
K$_2$SiI$_6$ & 13.12 & 3.79 & 5.58 & stable \\
Rb$_2$SiI$_6$ & 12.94 & 8.09 & 8.59 & stable \\
Cs$_2$SiI$_6$ & 10.22 & 5.25 & 5.95 & stable \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\end{table}
We also calculated the decomposition enthalpy ($\Delta H$) to evaluate the thermodynamical stability. The $\Delta H$ is defined as
\begin{eqnarray}\Delta H=E\left ( ASiI_{3} \right )+E\left ( AI_{3} \right )-E\left ( A_{2}SiI_{6} \right )
\end{eqnarray}
\begin{table*}[htb]
\caption{The calculated decomposition enthalpy ($\Delta{H}$ in meV/atom) for three A$_2$SiI$_6$ DPs based on PBEsol functional and Bader and Mulliken (in e) Charges in three A$_2$SiI$_6$ DPs using HSE06 functional..}
\label{table3}
\setlength{\tabcolsep}{5mm}
\begin{tabular}{lccccccc}
\hline
Compounds & $\Delta{H}$ & \multicolumn{3}{c}{Bader Charge} & \multicolumn{3}{c}{Mulliken Charge}\\
& & mental & Si & I & mental & Si & I \\
\hline
K$_2$SiI$_6$ & 41.11 & 0.89 & 1.26 & -0.508 & 0.89 & 0.20 & -0.330 \\
Rb$_2$SiI$_6$ & 75.55 & 0.87 & 1.35 & -0.515 & 0.89 & 0.21 & -0.332 \\
Cs$_2$SiI$_6$ & 68.89 & 0.85 & 1.37 & -0.513 & 0.88 & 0.21 & -0.328 \\
\hline
\end{tabular}
\end{table*}
The detailed $\Delta H$ are listed in Table \ref{table3}. The positive values of the three compounds indicate their thermodynamics stability, of which Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ owns the maximum decomposition energy. The compositional stability can be also demonstrated by the charge transfer between atoms upon its formation. We analyzed the Bader charge and the Mulliken charge\cite{50, 51} and Table \ref{table3} lists the charge transfer of each atom in A$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$. It shows that the metal and Si atoms are positively charged and thus can be regarded as electron donors, while iodine is the only electron acceptor upon the formation of system. Focusing on the amount of charge obtained by iodine in all three cases, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ gains the most electrons in the two cases, indicating the optimum combination stability in the three DPs, which is consistent with the result of decomposition energy. In addition, considering the facts that the Pauling electronegativity of Sn (1.96) is stronger than that of Si (1.90)\cite{43} and Cs$_{2}$SnI$_{6}$ has been extensively synthesized in experiments\cite{28, 29, 52, 53}, so it is believed that the three Si-based DPs have the great feasibility of experimental fabrications.
\begin{figure}[htbp]
\centering
\scalebox{0.20}{ \includegraphics{6.pdf}}
\caption{\label{6}(a) and (b) are the simulated MD potential energy and final structure of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs at the temperature of 400 K. }
\end{figure}
According to international standard (IEC 61646 climatic chamber test), the long-term stability of the 85$^{\circ}$C is required for PSCs. Hence, the molecular dynamics (MD) of the three I-based DPs at the temperature of 400K were simulated. Figure \ref{6} shows the potential energy per formula (f.u.) and the final structures of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, which can be seen that the both potential energy finally converges to a range less than 50 meV/atom, indicating outstanding dynamic stability. The well maintained structures of K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ also prove their stabilities. However, Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ was found to be dynamically unstable at 400 K [Fig. S4\cite{56}] or at room temperature 300 K, which is similar to Cs$_{2}$AgBiI$_{6}$\cite{54}. So we calculated the integrated crystal orbital Hamilton population (ICOHP) to quantitative description the Si-I bond strength\cite{55}. As demonstrated by Table S2\cite{56}, K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ has the maximum value of 1.24, meaning the maximum bonding interactions in Si-X bonds within three DPs. While, Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ has the minimum value of 1.21. Therefore, the stability problem of Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ stems from the longer Si-I bonding and the weaker Si-I covalency.
\section{Conclusion}
Using first-principles calculation, we explored and predicted a new kind of Si-based DPs for photovoltaic applications. The results show K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ and Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ DPs exhibit excellent electronic, optical and stable properties, such as reasonable band gaps, small carrier effective masses, wide photon absorption in visible range, providing more options for the development of lead-free perovskite optical absorbers. These three DPs are more suitable for n-type semiconductors due to their well dispersive lower conduction bands and smaller electron effective masses. K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ could achieve the best optical performance in the three DPS due to its best optical transition gap of 1.57 eV and optimum optical absorption in the visible region. According to the comprehensive stability results, Rb$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ has the best stability, followed by K$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$. Although Cs$_{2}$SiI$_{6}$ has dynamic stability problems, the prospects of the new family of DPs for PCSs are promising.
\begin{acknowledgments}
This work was supported by National Natural Science Foundation of China (No.11904312 and 11904313),the Project of Hebei Educational Department, China(No.ZD2018015 and QN2018012) and the Natural Science Foundation of Hebei Province (No. A2019203507). Thanks to the High Performance Computing Center of Yanshan University.
\end{acknowledgments}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 4,918 |
using namespace std;
using namespace boost;
#ifdef GetMessage
#undef GetMessage
#endif
namespace apl
{
LogTerminalExtension::LogTerminalExtension(EventLog* apLog) :
mpLog(apLog),
mpFileLogger(NULL)
{
this->ResetActiveColumns();
mpLog->AddLogSubscriber(&mBuffer);
mpLog->AddLogSubscriber(&mMetrics);
mBuffer.AddIgnoreCode(ITerminal::TERMINAL_CODE);
}
LogTerminalExtension::~LogTerminalExtension()
{
mpLog->RemoveLogSubscriber(&mMetrics);
mpLog->RemoveLogSubscriber(&mBuffer);
StopLoggingToFile();
}
void LogTerminalExtension::Notify()
{
this->Post(boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleLogTimer, this));
}
void LogTerminalExtension::RedirectedLine(const std::string&)
{
mBuffer.RemoveObserver(this);
this->ClearRedirect();
}
void LogTerminalExtension::HandleLogTimer()
{
this->PrintLog();
}
void LogTerminalExtension::_BindToTerminal(ITerminal* apTerminal)
{
////////////////////////
// Print routines
////////////////////////
CommandNode cmd;
// PRINT LOG
cmd.mName = "log";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandlePrintLog, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "log";
cmd.mDesc = "Flushes the log buffer to the screen";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "log");
// PRINT LOGGERS
cmd.mName = "loggers";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandlePrintLoggers, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "loggers";
cmd.mDesc = "Lists all of the loggers and the current filter settings";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "loggers");
////////////////////////
// run
////////////////////////
cmd.mName = "log run";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleRunLog, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "log run";
cmd.mDesc = "Continuously outputs log entries as they occur.";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "log run");
////////////////////////
// set
////////////////////////
std::string levels("a=ALL, d=DEBUG, i=INFO, c=COMM, p=Interpret, w=WARNING, e=ERROR, v=EVENT, n=NONE");
std::string usage("[a|d|i|c|p|w|e|v|n] <loggername1> <loggername2> ...");
cmd.mName = "filter";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleSetFilterOrLevel, this, _1, false);
cmd.mUsage = "filter " + usage + "\r\n";
cmd.mUsage += levels;
cmd.mDesc = "Set the log filters indivdually, more than one filter can be set\n";
cmd.mDesc += "at a time (ex. wev). If no devices are specified, all devices are\n";
cmd.mDesc += "affected.";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "filter");
cmd.mName = "level";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleSetFilterOrLevel, this, _1, true);
cmd.mUsage = "level " + usage + "\r\n";
cmd.mUsage += levels;
cmd.mDesc = "Set log level, all \"higher\" filters are also set (Ex: \"set level w\"\n";
cmd.mDesc += "is equivilant to \"set filter wev\"). If no devices are specified,\n";
cmd.mDesc += "all devices are affected.";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "level");
cmd.mName = "logcol";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleSetLogCol, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "logcol [t|f|d|l|m] \r\n";
cmd.mUsage += "t=Time, f=Filter, d=Device, l=Location, m=Message";
cmd.mDesc = "Sets the column order for displaying log entries";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "logcol");
////////////////////////
// clear
////////////////////////
cmd.mName = "start";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleStartToFileLogging, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "dump start [filename]";
cmd.mDesc = "Starts a log file with the given file name";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "dump start");
cmd.mName = "stop";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandleStopToFileLogging, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "dump stop";
cmd.mDesc = "Stops logging to file (assuming it is currently logging to a file)";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "dump stop");
cmd.mName = "vars";
cmd.mHandler = boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::HandlePrintVars, this, _1);
cmd.mUsage = "print vars";
cmd.mDesc = "Prints non-operational information to the console";
apTerminal->BindCommand(cmd, "vars");
}
void LogTerminalExtension::ResetActiveColumns()
{
this->mActiveColumns.clear();
this->mActiveColumns.push_back(COL_TIME);
this->mActiveColumns.push_back(COL_FILTER);
this->mActiveColumns.push_back(COL_DEVICE);
this->mActiveColumns.push_back(COL_MESSAGE);
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandlePrintLoggers(std::vector<std::string>& arTokens)
{
if(arTokens.size() > 0) return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
vector<Logger*> loggers;
mpLog->GetAllLoggers(loggers);
ostringstream oss;
for(size_t i = 0; i < loggers.size(); i++) {
oss << LogTypes::GetFilterString(loggers[i]->GetFilters()) << " - " << loggers[i]->GetName() << "\r\n";
}
this->Send(oss.str());
return SUCCESS;
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandlePrintVars(std::vector<std::string>& arTokens)
{
if(arTokens.size() > 0) return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
std::vector<MetricBuffer::Var> v;
mMetrics.Read(v);
ostringstream oss;
for(size_t i = 0; i < v.size(); i++) {
oss << "Source: " << v[i].source << " Name: " << v[i].name << " Value: " << v[i].value << "\r\n";
}
this->Send(oss.str());
return SUCCESS;
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandleRunLog(vector<string>& arTokens)
{
mBuffer.AddObserver(this);
this->SetRedirect(boost::bind(&LogTerminalExtension::RedirectedLine, this, _1));
this->PrintLog();
return SUCCESS;
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandlePrintLog(vector<string>&)
{
this->PrintLog();
return SUCCESS;
}
void LogTerminalExtension::PrintLog()
{
LogEntry entry;
while(mBuffer.ReadLog(entry)) {
string logstr = this->GetLogString(entry).append("\r\n");
this->Send(logstr, false);
}
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandleSetLogCol(std::vector<std::string>& arTokens)
{
if(arTokens.size() != 1) return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
std::set<LogColumns> columns;
std::vector<LogColumns> add_columns;
string code = arTokens[0];
toLowerCase(code);
for(size_t i = 0; i < code.size(); i++) {
LogColumns col;
switch(code[i]) {
case('t'):
col = COL_TIME;
break;
case('f'):
col = COL_FILTER;
break;
case('d'):
col = COL_DEVICE;
break;
case('l'):
col = COL_LOCATION;
break;
case('m'):
col = COL_MESSAGE;
break;
default: { //unrecognized character
ostringstream oss;
oss << "Unrecognized log column character: " << code[i] << "\r\n";
this->Send(oss.str());
return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
}
}
if(columns.find(col) != columns.end()) {
ostringstream oss;
oss << "Log column character specified more than once: " << code[i] << "\r\n";
this->Send(oss.str());
return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
}
else {
add_columns.push_back(col);
columns.insert(col);
}
}
//if we made it this far, clear the active map and set the columns
this->mActiveColumns.clear();
for(size_t i = 0; i < add_columns.size(); i++) mActiveColumns.push_back(add_columns[i]);
return SUCCESS;
}
std::string LogTerminalExtension::GetLogString(LogEntry& arEntry)
{
ostringstream oss;
for(size_t i = 0; i < mActiveColumns.size(); i++) {
switch(mActiveColumns[i]) {
case(COL_TIME):
oss << arEntry.GetTimeString();
break;
case(COL_DEVICE):
oss << arEntry.GetDeviceName();
break;
case(COL_FILTER):
oss << LogTypes::GetLevelString(arEntry.GetFilterLevel());
break;
case(COL_LOCATION):
oss << arEntry.GetLocation();
break;
case(COL_MESSAGE):
oss << arEntry.GetMessage();
break;
}
if(i != (mActiveColumns.size() - 1)) oss << " - ";
}
return oss.str();
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandleSetFilterOrLevel(std::vector<std::string>& arTokens, bool aSetLevel)
{
//need at least one token
if(arTokens.size() == 0) return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
//first token is the level flags
int level = LogTypes::GetFilterMask(arTokens[0]);
if(level < 0) {
this->Send("Couldn't parse level argument: " + arTokens[0] + "\r\n");
return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
}
if(aSetLevel && level > 0) {
if (arTokens[0].size() != 1) {
this->Send("The \'set level\' command needs a single filter level, use the lowest filter only or use \'set filter\' to specify more than one level.\r\n");
return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
}
// bit trick to set all bits below the highest one.
level = (level - 1) | level;
}
arTokens.erase(arTokens.begin());
std::vector<Logger*> loggers;
if(arTokens.size() == 0) { //if no device specified, set all of them
mpLog->GetAllLoggers(loggers);
}
else { //otherwise loop over the remaining arguments
for(size_t i = 0; i < arTokens.size(); i++) {
Logger* pLogger = mpLog->GetExistingLogger(arTokens[i]);
if(pLogger == NULL) { //device name not found
this->Send("Unrecognized device name: " + arTokens[i] + "\r\n");
return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
}
else {
loggers.push_back(pLogger);
}
}
}
//set the log levels
for(size_t i = 0; i < loggers.size(); i++) {
loggers[i]->SetFilters(level);
}
return SUCCESS;
}
void LogTerminalExtension::StopLoggingToFile()
{
delete mpFileLogger;
mpFileLogger = NULL;
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandleStartToFileLogging(std::vector<std::string>& arTokens)
{
if(arTokens.size() != 1) return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
StopLoggingToFile();
std::string fileName;
mpFileLogger = new LogToFile(mpLog, arTokens[0]);
return SUCCESS;
}
retcode LogTerminalExtension::HandleStopToFileLogging(std::vector<std::string>& arTokens)
{
if(arTokens.size() != 0) return BAD_ARGUMENTS;
StopLoggingToFile();
return SUCCESS;
}
}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 8,343 |
Французько-монегаські договори 1861 р. 1918 р. і 2002 р. є основою відносин між Францією та Князівством Монако. Визначають незалежний статус і суверенітет Монако, а також права успадкування престолу Князівства родиною Грімальді.
1-й Французько-монегаський договір 1861 р.
15 лютого 1793 р. князівство Монако було приєднано до Франції. Після розгрому імперії Наполеона князівство ненадовго знову здобула незалежність, але 20 листопада 1815 р. князівство Монако було поставлено під протекторат Сардинського королівства. У березні 1860 р. Сардинске королівство поступилося Франції Савойєю і графством Ніцци, включаючи Ментон і Рокебрюн. 18 липня 1860 р. королівство Сардинія вивела свої війська з Монако, поклавши тим самим кінець протекторату. Монако знову стало незалежною державою, але зіткнулося з тим, що частина території вже входила до складу Франції. Між країнами почалися переговори, які привели до підписання першого Франко-монегаського договору 2 лютого 1861 р. Згідно з договором, Франція визнала незалежність князівства Монако. Монако відмовлялося від будь-яких прав на Ментон і Рокебрюн в обмін на грошову компенсацію в розмірі чотирьох мільйонів франків. В результаті цього територія князівства зменшилася в двадцять разів. Також князь Карл III давав зобов'язання не продавати території князівства нікому, крім Франції . .
2-й Французько-монегаський договір 1918 р.
17 липня 1918 р. між Францією і Князівством Монако був підписаний новий Договір «Про дружбу і захист». За умовами договору Франція визнавала і гарантувала незалежність, суверенітет і територіальну цілісність Князівства Монако. Уряд князівства зобов'язувалося діяти «відповідно до політичних, військових, морських і економічних інтересів Франції» і погоджувати з нею свою зовнішню політику. У разі припинення династії престол міг посісти монегаск або француз. Французькі армія і флот отримували право входити на територію Монако без згоди князя. Договір набув чинності 23 червня 1919 р. Положення Другого французько-монегаський договору 1918 р. були підтверджені ст. 436 Версальського договору, укладеного 28 червня 1919 р.
3-й Французько-монегаський договір 2002 р.
У 2002 році в Конституцію Монако були внесені зміни. Вони передбачали, що тільки член родини Грімальді може зійти на престол. З цієї причини 24 жовтня 2002 року був підписаний новий договір, що враховує зазначені зміни. Відповідно до конституційних змін тільки член родини Грімальді може зійти на престол Князівства. Таким чином більшість пунктів 2-го Французько-монегаського договору від 17 липня 1918 р. були скасовані .
Примітки
Література
Duursma, Jorri C. Fragmentation and the International Relations of Micro-states: Self-determination and Statehood. Cambridge University Press, 1996. ISBN 0-521-56360-7
Кривонос Р.А. Князівство Монако в європейській системі міжнародних відносин [Електронний ресурс] // Міжнародні відносини. Серія «Політичні науки». – № 14. – 2017. – Режим доступу: http://journals.iir.kiev.ua/index.php/pol_n/article/view/3074.
Міжнародні договори Монако
Міжнародні договори Франції | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 9,381 |
2. الممارسة\تعريف القوات المسلحة
Practice Relating to Rule 4. Definition of Armed Forces
Section A. General definition
Belgium's Law of War Manual (1983) defines armed forces as comprising
all members of organized armed forces, under a responsible command and an internal disciplinary system which ensures compliance with the laws and customs of war. Members of organized resistance movements are also considered to be combatants provided they:
a) are subject to internal discipline;
b) wear a fixed distinctive sign recognisable from a distance;
c) carry arms openly;
d) comply with the laws and customs of war.
Belgium, Droit Pénal et Disciplinaire Militaire et Droit de la Guerre, Deuxième Partie, Droit de la Guerre, Ecole Royale Militaire, par J. Maes, Chargé de cours, Avocat-général près la Cour Militaire, D/1983/1187/029, 1983, p. 20.
A report submitted to the Belgian Senate in 1991 noted that two elements were essential in the definition of armed forces: first, they must be integrated into a military organization (that is, a hierarchical structure) subject to an internal disciplinary system; second, this organization must operate under a command structure responsible to a party for the conduct of its subordinates. If these two conditions were fulfilled, the concept of armed forces could be extended to groups of combatants who were left behind in an occupied territory to perform acts of sabotage, to gather intelligence or to take part in guerrilla warfare. The report recalled that this was the position of the Belgian government in exile during the Second World War. From its base in London, the government adopted legislation authorizing the executive power to nominate agents in charge of action or intelligence missions in a foreign country, occupied area or zone evacuated by the enemy. These agents had the status of combatants and were allowed to carry arms. The government in exile, however, was very reticent about resistance cells or individuals over whom it had no direct control.
Belgium, Senate, Report, Enquête parlementaire sur l'existence en Belgique d'un réseau de renseignements clandestin international, 1990–1991 Session, Doc. 1117-4, 1 October 1991, §§ 19 and 20.
Resistance networks operating behind enemy lines would not be protected, according to the report, if composed of civilians that were neither part of a hierarchical structure nor subject to an internal disciplinary system.
Belgium, Senate, Report, Enquête parlementaire sur l'existence en Belgique d'un réseau de renseignements clandestin international, 1990–1991 Session, Doc. 1117-4, 1 October 1991, § 25.
On the basis of the report, the Report on the Practice of Belgium concludes that the definition given in Article 43 of the 1977 Additional Protocol I is recognized by Belgium and that the central criterion is State control over the combatants.
Report on the Practice of Belgium, 1997, Chapter 1.1.
Section B. Incorporation of paramilitary or armed law enforcement agencies into armed forces
Upon ratification of the 1977 Additional Protocol I, Belgium notified the High Contracting Parties of the duties assigned to the Belgian Gendarmerie (constabulary) in time of armed conflict. Belgium considered that this notification fully satisfied any and all requirements of Article 43 pertaining to the Gendarmerie. It informed the High Contracting Parties that the Gendarmerie was formed to maintain law and order and was, according to national legislation, a police force which was part of the armed forces within the meaning of Article 43 of the 1977 Additional Protocol I. Consequently, members of the Gendarmerie had the status of combatant in time of international armed conflict.
Belgium, Interpretative declarations made upon ratification of the 1977 Additional Protocol I, 20 May 1986, § 2.
An Act of Parliament of 18 July 1991 has, however, put an end to this situation as it has disconnected the Gendarmerie from the armed forces.
Belgium, Law on Demilitarization of the Gendarmerie, 1991. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 1,886 |
A Regular Frankie Fan is a 2000 documentary film on the fans of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was narrated by Paul Williams and written and directed by Scott Mabbutt. The majority of the documentary was filmed at theaters screening The Rocky Horror Picture Show in and around Southern California. It was released on DVD by Liberty International Entertainment in 2001.
External links
2000 documentary films
2000 films
Documentary films about fandom
Rocky Horror
Films shot in California
Films set in California | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 9,020 |
/*jshint multistr:true */
// Standard JS module setup
this.recline = this.recline || {};
this.recline.View = this.recline.View || {};
(function($, my) {
// ## MultiView
//
// Manage multiple views together along with query editor etc. Usage:
//
// <pre>
// var myExplorer = new model.recline.MultiView({
// model: {{recline.Model.Dataset instance}}
// el: {{an existing dom element}}
// views: {{dataset views}}
// state: {{state configuration -- see below}}
// });
// </pre>
//
// ### Parameters
//
// **model**: (required) recline.model.Dataset instance.
//
// **el**: (required) DOM element to bind to. NB: the element already
// being in the DOM is important for rendering of some subviews (e.g.
// Graph).
//
// **views**: (optional) the dataset views (Grid, Graph etc) for
// MultiView to show. This is an array of view hashes. If not provided
// initialize with (recline.View.)Grid, Graph, and Map views (with obvious id
// and labels!).
//
// <pre>
// var views = [
// {
// id: 'grid', // used for routing
// label: 'Grid', // used for view switcher
// view: new recline.View.Grid({
// model: dataset
// })
// },
// {
// id: 'graph',
// label: 'Graph',
// view: new recline.View.Graph({
// model: dataset
// })
// }
// ];
// </pre>
//
// **state**: standard state config for this view. This state is slightly
// special as it includes config of many of the subviews.
//
// <pre>
// state = {
// query: {dataset query state - see dataset.queryState object}
// view-{id1}: {view-state for this view}
// view-{id2}: {view-state for }
// ...
// // Explorer
// currentView: id of current view (defaults to first view if not specified)
// readOnly: (default: false) run in read-only mode
// }
// </pre>
//
// Note that at present we do *not* serialize information about the actual set
// of views in use -- e.g. those specified by the views argument -- but instead
// expect either that the default views are fine or that the client to have
// initialized the MultiView with the relevant views themselves.
my.MultiView = Backbone.View.extend({
template: ' \
<div class="recline-data-explorer"> \
<div class="alert-messages"></div> \
\
<div class="header"> \
<div class="navigation"> \
<div class="btn-group" data-toggle="buttons-radio"> \
{{#views}} \
<a href="#{{id}}" data-view="{{id}}" class="btn">{{label}}</a> \
{{/views}} \
</div> \
</div> \
<div class="recline-results-info"> \
Results found <span class="doc-count">{{docCount}}</span> \
</div> \
<div class="menu-right"> \
<div class="btn-group" data-toggle="buttons-checkbox"> \
<a href="#" class="btn active" data-action="filters">Filters</a> \
<a href="#" class="btn active" data-action="fields">Fields</a> \
</div> \
</div> \
<div class="query-editor-here" style="display:inline;"></div> \
<div class="clearfix"></div> \
</div> \
<div class="data-view-sidebar"></div> \
<div class="data-view-container"></div> \
</div> \
',
events: {
'click .menu-right a': '_onMenuClick',
'click .navigation a': '_onSwitchView'
},
initialize: function(options) {
var self = this;
this.el = $(this.el);
this._setupState(options.state);
// Hash of 'page' views (i.e. those for whole page) keyed by page name
if (options.views) {
this.pageViews = options.views;
} else {
this.pageViews = [{
id: 'grid',
label: 'Grid',
view: new my.Grid({
model: this.model,
state: this.state.get('view-grid')
}),
}, {
id: 'graph',
label: 'Graph',
view: new my.Graph({
model: this.model,
state: this.state.get('view-graph')
}),
}, {
id: 'map',
label: 'Map',
view: new my.Map({
model: this.model,
state: this.state.get('view-map')
}),
}, {
id: 'timeline',
label: 'Timeline',
view: new my.Timeline({
model: this.model,
state: this.state.get('view-timeline')
}),
}];
}
// these must be called after pageViews are created
this.render();
this._bindStateChanges();
this._bindFlashNotifications();
// now do updates based on state (need to come after render)
if (this.state.get('readOnly')) {
this.setReadOnly();
}
if (this.state.get('currentView')) {
this.updateNav(this.state.get('currentView'));
} else {
this.updateNav(this.pageViews[0].id);
}
this.model.bind('query:start', function() {
self.notify({loader: true, persist: true});
});
this.model.bind('query:done', function() {
self.clearNotifications();
self.el.find('.doc-count').text(self.model.docCount || 'Unknown');
});
this.model.bind('query:fail', function(error) {
self.clearNotifications();
var msg = '';
if (typeof(error) == 'string') {
msg = error;
} else if (typeof(error) == 'object') {
if (error.title) {
msg = error.title + ': ';
}
if (error.message) {
msg += error.message;
}
} else {
msg = 'There was an error querying the backend';
}
self.notify({message: msg, category: 'error', persist: true});
});
// retrieve basic data like fields etc
// note this.model and dataset returned are the same
// TODO: set query state ...?
this.model.queryState.set(self.state.get('query'), {silent: true});
this.model.fetch()
.fail(function(error) {
self.notify({message: error.message, category: 'error', persist: true});
});
},
setReadOnly: function() {
this.el.addClass('recline-read-only');
},
render: function() {
var tmplData = this.model.toTemplateJSON();
tmplData.views = this.pageViews;
var template = Mustache.render(this.template, tmplData);
$(this.el).html(template);
// now create and append other views
var $dataViewContainer = this.el.find('.data-view-container');
var $dataSidebar = this.el.find('.data-view-sidebar');
// the main views
_.each(this.pageViews, function(view, pageName) {
$dataViewContainer.append(view.view.el);
if (view.view.elSidebar) {
$dataSidebar.append(view.view.elSidebar);
}
});
var pager = new recline.View.Pager({
model: this.model.queryState
});
this.el.find('.recline-results-info').after(pager.el);
var queryEditor = new recline.View.QueryEditor({
model: this.model.queryState
});
this.el.find('.query-editor-here').append(queryEditor.el);
var filterEditor = new recline.View.FilterEditor({
model: this.model
});
this.$filterEditor = filterEditor.el;
$dataSidebar.append(filterEditor.el);
var fieldsView = new recline.View.Fields({
model: this.model
});
this.$fieldsView = fieldsView.el;
$dataSidebar.append(fieldsView.el);
},
updateNav: function(pageName) {
this.el.find('.navigation a').removeClass('active');
var $el = this.el.find('.navigation a[data-view="' + pageName + '"]');
$el.addClass('active');
// show the specific page
_.each(this.pageViews, function(view, idx) {
if (view.id === pageName) {
view.view.el.show();
if (view.view.elSidebar) {
view.view.elSidebar.show();
}
view.view.trigger('view:show');
} else {
view.view.el.hide();
if (view.view.elSidebar) {
view.view.elSidebar.hide();
}
view.view.trigger('view:hide');
}
});
},
_onMenuClick: function(e) {
e.preventDefault();
var action = $(e.target).attr('data-action');
if (action === 'filters') {
this.$filterEditor.toggle();
} else if (action === 'fields') {
this.$fieldsView.toggle();
}
},
_onSwitchView: function(e) {
e.preventDefault();
var viewName = $(e.target).attr('data-view');
this.updateNav(viewName);
this.state.set({currentView: viewName});
},
// create a state object for this view and do the job of
//
// a) initializing it from both data passed in and other sources (e.g. hash url)
//
// b) ensure the state object is updated in responese to changes in subviews, query etc.
_setupState: function(initialState) {
var self = this;
// get data from the query string / hash url plus some defaults
var qs = my.parseHashQueryString();
var query = qs.reclineQuery;
query = query ? JSON.parse(query) : self.model.queryState.toJSON();
// backwards compatability (now named view-graph but was named graph)
var graphState = qs['view-graph'] || qs.graph;
graphState = graphState ? JSON.parse(graphState) : {};
// now get default data + hash url plus initial state and initial our state object with it
var stateData = _.extend({
query: query,
'view-graph': graphState,
backend: this.model.backend.__type__,
url: this.model.get('url'),
currentView: null,
readOnly: false
},
initialState);
this.state = new recline.Model.ObjectState(stateData);
},
_bindStateChanges: function() {
var self = this;
// finally ensure we update our state object when state of sub-object changes so that state is always up to date
this.model.queryState.bind('change', function() {
self.state.set({query: self.model.queryState.toJSON()});
});
_.each(this.pageViews, function(pageView) {
if (pageView.view.state && pageView.view.state.bind) {
var update = {};
update['view-' + pageView.id] = pageView.view.state.toJSON();
self.state.set(update);
pageView.view.state.bind('change', function() {
var update = {};
update['view-' + pageView.id] = pageView.view.state.toJSON();
// had problems where change not being triggered for e.g. grid view so let's do it explicitly
self.state.set(update, {silent: true});
self.state.trigger('change');
});
}
});
},
_bindFlashNotifications: function() {
var self = this;
_.each(this.pageViews, function(pageView) {
pageView.view.bind('recline:flash', function(flash) {
self.notify(flash);
});
});
},
// ### notify
//
// Create a notification (a div.alert in div.alert-messsages) using provided
// flash object. Flash attributes (all are optional):
//
// * message: message to show.
// * category: warning (default), success, error
// * persist: if true alert is persistent, o/w hidden after 3s (default = false)
// * loader: if true show loading spinner
notify: function(flash) {
var tmplData = _.extend({
message: 'Loading',
category: 'warning',
loader: false
},
flash
);
if (tmplData.loader) {
var _template = ' \
<div class="alert alert-info alert-loader"> \
{{message}} \
<span class="notification-loader"> </span> \
</div>';
} else {
var _template = ' \
<div class="alert alert-{{category}} fade in" data-alert="alert"><a class="close" data-dismiss="alert" href="#">×</a> \
{{message}} \
</div>';
}
var _templated = $(Mustache.render(_template, tmplData));
_templated = $(_templated).appendTo($('.recline-data-explorer .alert-messages'));
if (!flash.persist) {
setTimeout(function() {
$(_templated).fadeOut(1000, function() {
$(this).remove();
});
}, 1000);
}
},
// ### clearNotifications
//
// Clear all existing notifications
clearNotifications: function() {
var $notifications = $('.recline-data-explorer .alert-messages .alert');
$notifications.fadeOut(1500, function() {
$(this).remove();
});
}
});
// ### MultiView.restore
//
// Restore a MultiView instance from a serialized state including the associated dataset
my.MultiView.restore = function(state) {
var dataset = recline.Model.Dataset.restore(state);
var explorer = new my.MultiView({
model: dataset,
state: state
});
return explorer;
}
// ## Miscellaneous Utilities
var urlPathRegex = /^([^?]+)(\?.*)?/;
// Parse the Hash section of a URL into path and query string
my.parseHashUrl = function(hashUrl) {
var parsed = urlPathRegex.exec(hashUrl);
if (parsed === null) {
return {};
} else {
return {
path: parsed[1],
query: parsed[2] || ''
};
}
};
// Parse a URL query string (?xyz=abc...) into a dictionary.
my.parseQueryString = function(q) {
if (!q) {
return {};
}
var urlParams = {},
e, d = function (s) {
return unescape(s.replace(/\+/g, " "));
},
r = /([^&=]+)=?([^&]*)/g;
if (q && q.length && q[0] === '?') {
q = q.slice(1);
}
while (e = r.exec(q)) {
// TODO: have values be array as query string allow repetition of keys
urlParams[d(e[1])] = d(e[2]);
}
return urlParams;
};
// Parse the query string out of the URL hash
my.parseHashQueryString = function() {
q = my.parseHashUrl(window.location.hash).query;
return my.parseQueryString(q);
};
// Compse a Query String
my.composeQueryString = function(queryParams) {
var queryString = '?';
var items = [];
$.each(queryParams, function(key, value) {
if (typeof(value) === 'object') {
value = JSON.stringify(value);
}
items.push(key + '=' + encodeURIComponent(value));
});
queryString += items.join('&');
return queryString;
};
my.getNewHashForQueryString = function(queryParams) {
var queryPart = my.composeQueryString(queryParams);
if (window.location.hash) {
// slice(1) to remove # at start
return window.location.hash.split('?')[0].slice(1) + queryPart;
} else {
return queryPart;
}
};
my.setHashQueryString = function(queryParams) {
window.location.hash = my.getNewHashForQueryString(queryParams);
};
})(jQuery, recline.View);
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 4,012 |
{"url":"https:\/\/ch.gateoverflow.in\/138\/gate-chemical-2013-question-6","text":"The thermodynamic state of a closed system containing a pure fluid changes from $(T1,p1)$ to $(T2, p2)$, where $T$ and $p$ denote the temperature and pressure, respectively.\u00a0 Let $Q$ denote the heat absorbed $(>0$ if absorbed by the system) and $W$ the work done $(>0$ if done by the system). Neglect changes in kinetic and potential energies. Which one of the following is $\\text{CORRECT}$?\n\n1. $Q$ is the path-independent and $W$ is the path-dependent\n2. $Q$ is path-dependent and $W$ is path-independent\n3. $(Q \u2013 W)$ is path-independent\n4. $(Q + W)$ is path-independent","date":"2022-10-02 09:49:01","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.9561442136764526, \"perplexity\": 267.3579772553292}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": false, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.3, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-40\/segments\/1664030337307.81\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20221002083954-20221002113954-00104.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
Stand 05/ 1/2 comdirect bank AG. Quickborn our-e.eu Teilnahmebedingungen –. Bis zu Euro Prämie. Euro, wenn Sie uns mögen. Okt. Die Comdirect bietet Neukunden derzeit bis zu Euro extra, wenn sie bis zum 5. November eine Depoteröffnung beantragen. Neukunde ist. Jan. Kostenloses comdirect Girokonto mit € Willkommensguthaben + . Bei Zahlung im Euro-Ausland fallen 1,75% Fremdwährungsgebühren.
Vergleich: Comdirect besser als DKB? However, there will olympus spiel some charges, because you surely have an account in British pounds in the Forza 6 geant casino and the current account at lotto quick tipp Comdirect is managed in Euros. Many customers poker online that, as one can preclude the expensive credit interest. Therefore, it is no debit card, but neither a revolving credit card. This has the wta.com functions as the credit card, however, with the difference that one must first formel 1 2019 neue regeln money from the current account to the credit card account. Can I by filling in the application decide where the mail is sent to? Mehr Informationen md live online casino Dispositionskredit. Is it normal that the bank asks for wetter online duisburg 14 tage document? This is often taken care of in sofortüberweisung airbnb course of the account opening, because ancer you need to state in which country you are taxable. August 6, at 1: Msv 3 liga 12, at 5: Currently, this is only possi-ble with PostIdent in Germany. This special constellation provides interesting advantages for Comdirect-customers that customers of other direct banks do not have:. Comdirect offers two different depots: Here you see more about account opening at Comdirect: Does Comdirect offer fnatic vs splyce Girokonto with debit card and if so, can thd debit card frankreich irland used abroad?
Informationen zur Verwendung von Cookies. Was passiert, wenn die 0-Euro-Grenze überschritten ist? In Fremdwährungsländern gebührenfreier Bargeldbezug mit der Visa-Karte. Geld oder Wertpapiere im Wert von mindestens 25 Euro dorthin übertragen, oder eine Baufinanzierung abgeschlossen haben. Für den Erhalt des Bonus daher kein Problem.
According to your creditworthiness, you will get your Visa credit card with a credit line , so that you can pay with it without having the corresponding amount on the bank account.
Every Monday, the Visa credit card is cleared automatically with the current account. If your creditworthiness is not that good or your bank cannot estimate you very well, then you have the possibility to get the Comdirect Visa Prepaid Card.
This works just like the Visa credit card with credit line e. A maximum of Euro 5. You can find more tips for the Visa credit card in the article 7 secrets to use your account optimally.
The current account as well as the supplements, such as the Visa credit card or the call money account, are unconditionally free of charge — no matter how often you use the Comdirect.
You can use the deposit — with or without current account — conveniently from abroad. There are no fees for the deposit management and you benefit from the favourable low order fees of the German stock exchange market.
This will ensure that your capital gains will be tax-free in Germany. We will continue with our research about further clever usage possibilities of the Comdirect within Germany as well as abroad and will provide the results for you free of charge as tips and instructions on this special portal.
Right, sorry, what I meant was: If the credit card account is in the red debit , then it will be settled with the current account each Monday.
Dear Sir or Madam, please send me a list with all the necessary documents that is required from your bank, in order to open a bank account, either from Greece or if I have to, come physically in the bank myself.
The account opening starts with an online form. Use our link on article. Here is the instruction for opening a saving account at Comdirect: Maybe it helps you now?
I am looking to open a german bank account but do not currently have german credit history. Is ComDirect more open to people in my situation?
The opening of foreign currency accounts — even GBP — is possible as an addition at the Comdirect bank. I am right now living in Germany and willing to obtain a credit card.
We can deposit the money in the comdirect current account as per needs but how it reached to the credit account — every monday or we can specify a date for automatic transfer and also manually in urgent cases?
Comdirect cannot do anything to prevent that. But Comdirect will even refund these fees when you ask them to. I am currently in the UK. I have an comdirect account and I am very new to this concept.
I just want to know what does payment partner mean Zahlungspartner and how do I select. It is a composite noun and may have several meanings.
I am a resident of Pakistan, can i open an account with comdirect, i can not understand German language also. The account service of the Comdirect is only available in German language.
This is common for us in Germany. There are only very few exceptions, like Number There, the account opening and account usage is possible completely in English language.
Instead of charging commissions do they use a more favorable exchange rate? The Comdirect bank uses the exchange rates of the Commerzbank. These kann be queried on the website of the Commerzbank.
About exchange rate, if I withdraw foreign cash when traveling, what rate will be considered since comdirect is euro based?
Except for the credit line, it has exactly the same great features and conditions. A debit card — which is called Girocard at the Comdirect — is always free to the account.
Who has no income can open a savings account — here, no creditworthiness check takes place, which is customary at the opening of a current account — however, there is no card to the account https: I would like to open an account with comdirect as I will receive my commission project under EUR currency.
For the savings card? Do I have to have The paying credit card to open the savings card? DKB does not open accounts to US citizens yet? Please check the current interest rates at the list of prices and services of the bank.
Is it the same with comdirect if i use visa card? I applied for a Gemeinschaftskonto and we both got rejected…the other person on the account was a permanent resident in the US before, so I guess FACTA would apply to them too.
I emailed them to follow up and see if they would reconsider, but if that is the reason, then they will probably say no. But of course that liberty has to be granted to banks, companies and private individuals in general a contract is only valid, if both parties agree to it.
The website will be changed to become bilingual. The online application is very easy — the account open within 2 minutes, so that money can be transferred there immediately.
Can I open an account — Girokonto is it the same with EC account? Comdirect does not offer rent deposit accounts.
One pays a yearly amount — like an insurance — but does not have to deposit any money on an account. Second also yes, but see details here: We opened a joint account and just received our account numbers, IBAN, etc but not yet cards.
With this option, you as the sender pay all Comdirect fees as well as the fees of the cooperating service providers involved in this transfer.
For amounts under EUR the fee is Another option that we ourselves use for foreign transfers with a change of currency is the service provider Transferwise.
Just sent the application and the PostIdent of comdirect today I live in Germany , hope I get the account and the cards within a few days.
Here money from another account is being debited. That does not work, because in Germany this is not a custom for private accounts. If you mean recurring payments — i.
Hi there, I am British and successfully opened a Comdirect account in February whilst visiting Germany using the Postident procedure.
I have a few questions: And can I move the money back to my girokonto? It works something like this. The 50 cents which was rounded off is deposited into your savings account.
It is explained here in the below video in German. Internet banks have the disadvantage that you cannot deposit cash into the account.
Lifetime Free Credit Card with joining bonus.
Statt die Visa-Karte mühsam aus dem Portemonnaie herauszusuchen, können Sie sekundenschnell mit dem Smartphone zahlen. Die comdirect Visa-Karte Kreditkarte und girocard Debitkarte — kostenlos und weltweit vorteilhaft. Ich habe dem Neukunden z. Bargeldautomaten gibt es aufgrund der Zugehörigkeit zur Cash-Group in fast jeder Stadt. Oder müssen hier noch zuzätzliche Aktivitäten geordert werden? Oder einen guten Maurer engagiert. Für Gemeinschaftskonten nutzen Sie bitte die Standarderöffnung. Das aktuelle comdirect Angebot ist momentan vermutlich das beste. Achte nur darauf, die Bedingungen einzuhalten für die Prämie, dein AG muss davon auch nichts erfahren. Also, the TransferWise option is quick: Possibility to apply for the bank account and credit card from abroad. March 26, at 3: The exchange rates of Commerzbank change, but are okay as a lotto 24 gutschein. In order facilitate that one states the IBAN. I am currently in the UK. May 16, at However, we recommend it, because it has a lot of advantages. October 17, at 6: Comdirect offers zählen lernen spiel different depots: Über den Satz bin ich casino drink schon gestolpert. Kartenzahlungen, melden Sie uns diese bitte umgehend unter — 25 Trotzdem, die DKB ist mir lieber fürs Konto. Für Gemeinschaftskonten nutzen Sie bitte die Standarderöffnung. Kostenloses Girokonto online eröffnen — kinderleicht und free spins no deposit casino keep what you win. Wir behalten uns Änderungen türkische liga live ticker der Sonderaktion sowie eine Verkürzung oder Verlängerung des Aktionszeitraumes jederzeit vor. Schnäppchenfuchs verwendet Cookies, um dir einen besseren Service anbieten zu können. Sie möchten Ihr Konto nicht online eröffnen? Ein Blick - Alle Produkte. Ergänzung zur befristeten Sonderaktion vom Habe auch ein spiele mit s Konto und werde nach erhalt der Prämie wieder kündigen. Neben den Euro für die Nutzung online pocker Gehaltskonto gibt es weitere casino abend weihnachtsfeier Euro superligaen neue Kunden, die das Comdirect Girokonto wegen Unzufriedenheit wieder kündigen. Der günstige Dispo macht das Konto auch für all diejenigen attraktiv, die hin jamie vardy casino wieder im Minus sind. Community Für alle, die es wissen wollen. Die Apps zu Ihrem comdirect Girokonto — zukunftsweisend, mobil und praktisch. Die comdirect Visa-Karte Kreditkarte und girocard Debitkarte — kostenlos und weltweit vorteilhaft. Kunden die in den ersten drei Monaten nach Eröffnung mindestens 5 Transaktionen i. Wärst du so freundlich, uns mit deinen Mitteln zu unterstützen, indem du da mal eine Anfrage reinschickst? Live-Chat Chatten Sie mit uns. Dort erklären wir auch, worauf ihr zu achten habt. Falls Du noch kein Schreiben erhalten hast, bitte die Bank kontaktieren, ob Du die Bedingungen eingehalten hast. Überweisungen und Daueraufträge sind inklusive. Bargeld abheben ist an allen Automaten der Cash Group gebührenfrei möglich sowie an über 1. Die Prämie wird im 4. Nur für comdirect Neukunden. Alle Konten mit Startguthaben oder Prämien finden Sie hier. Live-Chat Chatten Sie mit uns. Fitnesstracker "Vivofit 3" M, schwarz. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
} | 6,181 |
To attain uniform, high standards of professional conduct within the Forwarding Industry. The Australian Federation of International Forwarders was created in July 1996 following the merger of two distinct organisations, namely: The Australian Federation of Airfreight Forwarders - 'AFAFF'- formed (as a Federal body) in 1977 and The International Forwarders Association of Australia -'IFAA'- representing the Seafreight Forwarders (formed in 1976). The merger was deemed to be a natural progression which mirrored the business of it's combined membership, most of whom were active in both air & sea transport. Existing and new members could elect to be represented in the Air and /or Sea division of the new entity.
As time progressed, the separate 'divisions' were incorporated into the organisation as a whole and at the same time, the expanding role of the Freight Forwarder into 3rd party logistics and the resultant wider range of services, was catered for by AFIF as it expanded it's representative involvement. In addition to specific Air & sea matters, AFIF also represents its members in issues related to: Customs & Quarantine; IT/E-Commerce; Training & Education; Security; Depot & Warehousing; etc.
AFIF also strengthened its presence at both local committee and regional and world representative level. More details are covered within this document. During its evolution, the organisation continued to develop and deliver a comprehensive vocational training program which has progressed to cover most subjects required by operatives in the freight forwarding industry.
During 2001 AFIF, in partnership with a new specialist group training company 'my freight career', combined to pioneer a traineeship for our Industry. AFIF continues to increase its membership services and since 1999 has been the official Australian distribution Agent for IATA publications and in late 2010, was also appointed by OAG Singapore as it's GSSA for cargo publications and products for Australia. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 8,444 |
Games have always been at the forefront of technology adaptation in the entertainment industry. Technologies such as virtual reality and artificial reality have grown exponentially because of mobile, console and computer game players' interest in the possibilities of these technologies in entertainment. The gaming industry has become one of the largest entertainment industries. One of the highest grossing movies of all time, Avatar, has made $2.8M worldwide; GTA V a video game released in 2013 made $6B and it's not even the highest grossing video game.
With blockchain being adopted by nearly all industries, the gaming industry is set to be next. TRON is one of the world's leading public blockchain platforms and the world's largest decentralized network. TRON has always shown dedication in accelerating the decentralization of the Internet. On November 29, TRON announced that it would establish the blockchain game fund TRON Arcade with up to $100M to be invested over the course of three years.
The main purpose of the fund is to embolden and empower game developers to execute their ideas more freely without having to worry about the funding and introduce new games and content into the autonomous ecosystem. The hopes are that the new technology of blockchain will help drive new gaming experience and lend its powers of immutability, security, and decentralization to this vast industry.
TRON Arcade is the company's another long-term commitment after it acquired file-sharing giant BitTorrent earlier this year. The CEO of TRON, Justin Sun claims that TRON Arcade will 'play a crucial role' in the company's expanding popularity. "TRON strives to tackle existing issues faced by the gaming industry by leveraging the open, transparent, and immutability of blockchain technology," he quoted in the press release. He continued, "TRON arcade will play a crucial role in encouraging developers to join in our mission and provide the best blockchain gaming experience to users around the world." As is the case with most publicity attempts by TRON, they also highlighted the attributes of its network such as its high transaction speed versus those of Ethereum.
TRON has been expanding its reach into multiple industries for a long time now. With their commitments to ventures such as charity, enterprise solutions, consumer internet, social media, and entertainment. They have claimed dedication in building a global, decentralized Internet ecosystem and ushering the world into Web 3.0. Recently, TRON even managed to obtain the participation of NBA legend Kobe Bryant in one of its events.
Founded in September 2017 by Justin Sun, TRON has delivered a series of achievements including Mainnet launch on 2018, network independence on June 2018, and TRON Virtual Machine launch on August 2018. TRON Arcade, the company's $100M blockchain game-fund is another bold move in that direction. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
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{"url":"https:\/\/autogrid.info\/blog\/mastering-excel-vba.html","text":"# Mastering EXCEL VBA\n\nSo this is it. My friend Vinod and I used to maintain a site called AutoGrid.info which we don't really maintain but every now and then we use Excel VBA for solving problems.\n\nSo I am thinking of consolidating everything here on this page. The plan is to have a big, very big page with plenty of content that you can use to solve your problems as well. You will find code here and of course the explanation.\n\n## 1 Custom Function to count background color\n\nLast week one of my colleague asked me how to count the cells in the excel sheet with specific color. Well there is no such in build function to do this job. So lets write our function. Yes we can write a custom function, also known as User Defined Function that will count the number of cells in a specified range for the specified background color.\n\n1. This function takes two arguments, first argument is the range of cells like A1:A2 and the second argument is cell that has the background color that you want to count.\n2. How to use this function. Enter this in the cell where you want the count to be displayed.\n\n=count_background_color(A2:A16,A5)\n\nA2:A16 is the Range of Cells\n\nA5 is the cell with the background color that you want to count.\n\nHere is the function code.\n\nFunction count_background_color(input_range As Range, cell_has_color As Range)\n\nApplication.Volatile\n'Automatically update the formula whenever any cell is updated\n' First parameter: Range of Cells\n' Second parameter: Cell that has background color\n\nDim item As Range 'input_range is the first parameter\n'Dim cell_has_color As Range 'Second parameter\n\nDim color_number As Variant\n\ncolor_number = cell_has_color.Interior.Color\n'Extract the color index of the second parameter\n\nFor Each item In input_range\nIf item.Interior.Color = color_number Then\ncount_background_color = count_background_color + 1\nEnd If\n\nNext\n\nEnd Function\n\n\nI hope you enjoyed this blog.\n\n## 2 Replace Text from Excel Sheet to Notepad\n\nIn this post we will show how to modify data in the Notepad from the Excel spreadsheet. We will write one macro here to do our job. I am sure you must have done manual copy-paste from excel to notepad many times. This macro will not only save your time but also make sure that there is no error that you could do manually.\n\nThere is an excel sheet with the two columns, Employee ID and Employee Name. We also have a notepad file which has only the Employee ID of the employee.\n\nOur task is to replace the Employee Id in the notepad with their corresponding Employee Name. The Employee Name needs to be picked from the excel file.\n\nOur Macro will one by one go through each of the Employee Id in the excel sheet and search it in the notepad file, if Employee Id is found in the notepad it will be replaced by the Employee Name which is present right next to the Employee Id\n\nAs a safety measure a backup of the Notepad file is created and saved in a folder with the name BackupExcelSheetFileName. The Backup Notepad file will have Backup_ Prefixed to original name and each time the Macro is run the old Backup file will be over written.\n\nHow to use this Macro\n\n2. The data in the Excel sheet and Notepad file is same as shown in the examples attached. Of course your data could be different.\n\nNOTE: The important point to note here is that the Employee Id should be present in the first column starting from Cell A2 and the corresponding Employee Name should be present in second column starting from Cell B2.\n\n1. Press ALT + F11 to open the Visual Basic Editor\n2. Create a Module and copy-past the below code.\n3. Again come back to the Excel sheet and press ALT + F8 and run the Macro MacroReplaceFromExcelToNotepad\n4. Enter the Notepad file name. In our case the name is replacetextnotepad.txt\n\nClick OK to Run the Macro. The Notepad file should be present in the same folder where the excel sheet is located.\n\nIf you enter wrong File name here an error is thrown.\n\n1. Now the task has been executed successfully and the Notepad File is also processed. You can open the Notepad and see the changes.\n2. After the execution of the Macro you can see that a new folder named replacetextnotepad.xls (Folder name is same as the Excel Sheet name with .xls extension) has been created which has the backup of the original Notepad file with the name Backupreplacetextnotepad.txt\n\nHave fun!\n\n## 3 Transpose Columns with corresponsing values\n\nWe all know that there is a feature in the excel sheet to transpose rows into columns or vice-versa. To transpose just select the row or column and paste-special with transpose checkbox selected but what if you want to do the transposing a complete table? There is no such feature in excel so for achieving two dimensional transposing we will write a macro.\n\nLets take an example to understand the problem. We have a data in the following format.\n\nColumn 1 Column 2 Column 3 Column 4 A D X B E Y C F Z\n\nThere is no limit to the number of columns. Each Column has some data in the Cells below it.\n\nThe challenge is to transpose this data into this format.\n\nA Column 1 B Column 1 C Column 1 D Column 2 E Column 2 F Column 2 G Column 2 X Column 4 Y Column 4 Z Column 4\n\nHere the data below each Column is clubbed together and their respective Headers are copied in the cell next to them. If there is no value under any Header then that Column should be ignored.\n\nSub TransposeColumns()\n\nDim input_sheet As Variant\ninput_sheet = ActiveSheet.Name\nWorksheets(input_sheet).Select\n\nDim column1, row1 As Range\n' create range variables to hold row and column values\n\nRange(\"IV1\").End(xlToLeft).Select ' select the last column cell\n\n'#####################################################################\n'############### Loop till each column ###############################\n\nFor Each column1 In Range(Selection, Selection.End(xlToLeft))\n' Loop from first column to last column\n'MsgBox \"Column:\" & column1.Value 'Comment this later\nIf column1.Offset(1, 0).Value = \"\" Then\n'If there is no data in column then do nothing\nElse\n'If there is some data in the first column then proceed with Transposing\n\nWorksheets(input_sheet).Select 'Select the Input sheet\n\ncolumn1.Offset(1, 0).Select\n'Select first data which is below first Header\n\nFor Each row1 In Range(Selection, Selection.End(xlDown))\nCall CopyTransposed_Output(row1.Value, column1.Value)\nNext row1\n\nEnd If\n\nNext column1 ' Next Column\n\nWorksheets(\"Output\").Select\nRange(\"A1\").Select\nMsgBox \"Transposing Columns Completed\"\nEnd Sub\n\nSub CopyTransposed_Output(row1 As Variant, column1 As Variant)\n\nWorksheets(\"Output\").Select\n\nRange(\"A65536\").End(xlUp).Select 'Move just below the last row\nActiveCell.Offset(1, 0).Value = row1\nActiveCell.Offset(1, 1).Value = column1\n\nEnd Sub\n\n\nHow to use this Code\n\n1. Create a Module and Copy the posted above.\n2. Create a Sheet and name it \"Output\".\n3. Come back to the input sheet that has the data to be transposed.\n4. Run the Macro.\n5. Now check the Output Sheet. It will have the transposed data.\n\n## 4 Track who opened Excel Sheet - Access Logs\n\nIt very likely that multiple people would be working on the same excel sheet for updating the data. For example you want to gather some information from your employees like their address, then you can create an excel sheet and save it on a shared location. Your employees can open the file from that location and fill their details.\n\nThere might be a need where you might also be interested in knowing who has saved the excel sheet. This way you can track who has not filled their details!!\n\nYou can create a Macro in excel to enable user logs. Whenever a person saves any data in the sheet, his\/her system username and time of saving can be stored. Follow the below steps.\n\n1. Create a Sheet named \"Log\" with the following format.\n\n1. Copy the following code in the WorkbookOpen Event\nPrivate Sub Workbook_Open()\nWorksheets(\"Log\").Range(\"A65536\").End(xlUp).Offset(1, 0).Value _\n= Format(Now(), \"mm-dd-yy HH MM AMPM\")\nWorksheets(\"Log\").Range(\"B65536\").End(xlUp).Offset(1, 0).Value _\nEnd Sub\n\n1. Next whenever anyone opens the Excel Sheet his name will be stored in the Sheet \"Log\". You can hide this sheet so that others cannot see and modify it.\n\nSimple and neat trick!!\n\n## 5 Now Never miss to mention the subject in the mail\n\nIt happens many time that you write a mail but forgot to mention the subject. I know it is embarrassing to send an important official mail without a subject. It has happened to me also when I used to do it a lot and I remember my Manager making strange faces at me.\n\nWell that was past, I realized that a mail without a subject brings a bad impression on others. After learning VBA I wondered whether it is possible to add some extra functionality in the outlook to alert us whenever we miss to mention the subject and I was able to write a very simple macro to achieve this extra feature which doesn't come with Microsoft Office Outlook.\n\nSteps to write and store this Macro\n\n2. Press Alt+F11. This opens the Visual Basic Editor and then Press Ctrl+R which in turn open Project-Project 1 (left side)\n3. On the Left Pane, one can see \"Microsoft Outlook Objects\" or \"Project1\", expand this. Now one can see the \"ThisOutLookSession\".\n4. Double click on \"ThisOutLookSession\". It will open up a Code Pane on the right hand side.\n5. Copy and Paste the following code in the right pane (Code Pane) and save it\nPrivate Sub Application_ItemSend(ByVal Item As Object, Cancel As Boolean)\nDim strSubject As String\nstrSubject = Item.Subject\nIf Len(Trim(strSubject)) = 0 Then\nPrompt$= \"Subject is Empty. Are you sure you want to send the Mail?\" If MsgBox(Prompt$, vbYesNo + vbQuestion + vbMsgBoxSetForeground, \"Check for Subject\") = vbNo Then\nCancel = True\nEnd If\nEnd If\nEnd Sub\n\n1. Now whenever u try to send a mail without subject, a pop-up is raised to remind you of the blank subject.\n\nSee how simple it is to use VBA to add these extra features!! If you like this post then why don't you subscribe to our mailing list to get such tricks right in your mailbox.\n\nHave a nice day!\n\n## 6 How to Recording a Macro in Excel?\n\nThe Easiest and the fastest way to learn Excel VBA Programming is by using the Recording Macro feature. This cool feature of Excel will record all the steps you perform on Excel sheet and generate a Code. You can later view the code and see how your actions are translated into VBA Code.\n\nProcedure to Record a Macro\n\n1. Click Tools > Macro > Record New Macro\n2. Enter the desired Macro Name and click Ok to start Macro Recording .\n\nIf you want you can also give a shortcut Key to Recorded Macro. Select Store macro in \u201cThis Workbook\u201d so that the Recorded Macro is saved right inside the Excel sheet. If you choose this option and send the sheet to someone then the Recorded Macro will also be sent.\n\nNote: If you store macro in \u201cPersonal Macro Workbook\u201d then the Recorded Macro will not be saved inside the Excel sheet. Recorded Macro will be stored in Personal Sheet. Personal.xls file is created when a Macro is recorded to it for the first time and it is saved in \\XLStart directory of MS Office. It is advisable to store the frequently used Macros in \u201cPersonal Macro Workbook\u201d so that they are always available from any sheet but if you send the Excel sheet to someone, the Macro will not be sent along with the Excel Sheet.\n\nA Shortcut Key can also be assigned to the Recorded Macro. Press \"s\" to assign CTRL + s OR Press \"S\" to assign CTRL + SHIFT + S\n\nIn our next posts we will discuss some of the examples where we will record a macro to automate some day-to-day tasks.\n\n## 7 Record a Macro to AutoFit cells in Excel\n\nAutoFit is something that makes the data in the Sheet more presentable and readable. This is one example where we can create a simple Macro to apply AutoFit property to the sheet.\n\nProcedure\n\n1. Start Recording a Macro and name it AutoFit\n2. Select entire sheet\n3. Double click on the divider between Column A and Column B\n4. Stop the Macro\n\nThe following code will be generated.\n\nSub AutoFit()\n'\n' AutoFit Macro\n' Macro recorded 3\/10\/2008 by Ravi Sagar\n'\n\n'\nCells.Select\nCells.EntireColumn.AutoFit\nRange(\"A1\").Select\nEnd Sub\n\n\nNotice the statement Cells.EntireColumn.AutoFit, it tells excel to apply Column wise AutoFit to the selected Cells. You can later use this Macro to AutoFit the entire selected worksheet. The advantage of creating such handy Macro is that you can assign these Macros to the custom buttons and place them on the toolbars. By creating Macros for operations that you use frequently you can save lot of time and work more efficiently.\n\n## 8 Record a Macro to Merge\/DeMerge cells in Excel\n\nIn our earlier posts we discussed how to record a Macro and we discussed one example to record a macro to AutoFit. Lets take one more example to create a Macro to Merge and De-Merge the selected cells quickly, which is otherwise a long procedure.\n\nSteps to create a Macro for Merge\n\n1. Start Macro Recorder and name it as \"MergeCells\"\n2. Select the cells you want to merge. You can also select two blank cells.\n3. Click on \"Merge and Centre\" button on the Formatting toolbar.\n4. Stop the Macro Recorder.\n\nPress ALT + F11 and open the Visual Basic Editor. You will see that the following code is generated.\n\nSub MergeCells()\n'\n' MergeCells Macro\n' Macro recorded 3\/7\/2008 by Ravi Sagar\n'\n\n'\nWith Selection\n.HorizontalAlignment = xlCenter\n.VerticalAlignment = xlBottom\n.WrapText = False\n.Orientation = 0\n.ShrinkToFit = False\n.MergeCells = False\nEnd With\nSelection.Merge\nEnd Sub\n\n\nDo not worry much about all the lines written here. The only thing that should be your concern is the line Selection.Merge, it tells Excel to Merge the selected cells.\n\nSteps to create a Macro for DeMerge\n\n1. Start Macro Recorder and name it as \"DeMergeCells\"\n2. Select the cell you want to DeMerge. You can also select Merged Cell from the above operation.\n3. Right Click on the selected cells > Format Cells > Alignment Tab > Under Text Control, uncheck the \"Merge Cells\" check box.\n4. Stop the Macro Recorder.\n\nPress ALT + F11 and open the Visual Basic Editor. You will see that the following code is generated.\n\nSub DeMergeCells()\n'\n' DeMergeCells Macro\n' Macro recorded 3\/7\/2008 by Ravi Sagar\n'\n\n'\nWith Selection\n.HorizontalAlignment = xlCenter\n.VerticalAlignment = xlBottom\n.WrapText = False\n.Orientation = 0\n.ShrinkToFit = False\n.MergeCells = False\nEnd With\nEnd Sub\n\n\nIn this code the statement .MergeCells = False unmerges the selected cell.\n\nI hope now you will get good idea about recording macros in the Excel sheets. I our future post we will discuss the recording of macros in OpenOffice.\n\n## 9 How to use VBA Editor?\n\nSo you have recorded your first Macro in Excel VBA but most of the times you want to do something more that cannot be achieved with just recording and for customizing the Macro you need to Modify the VBA Code. VBA Editor is just for that, modifying and writing your own code.\n\nWhat is VBA Editor?\n\nVBA Editor is the Window where Code for Excel VBA is written. It is just like any other Text editor like Notepad and Wordpad. Instead of plain English the Code is written in the Language which Excel can understand. VBA Editor is also a Program to create and Edit VBA Macros. You can also call it as IDE (Integrated Development Environment)\n\nHow to Open VBA Editor\n\nSelect Tools > Macro > Visual Basic Editor Or simply press ALT + F11, it is the shortcut to open the VBA Editor.\n\nParts of VBA Editor\n\nVBA Editor can be customized by the user. Many Windows can be added and removed but It is important to know the following Windows.\n\n\u2022 Editing window: Displays VBA code for editing and User Forms for design.\n\u2022 Project Explorer window: Displays the loaded VBA projects and the components of each project.\n\u2022 Properties window: Used to view and edit the properties of the current object.\n\u2022 Immediate window: Displays the output of debugging statements in your code.\n\nCreate a new Module\n\nSteps to create a new Module.\n\n1. Open the Excel Worksheet where you want to create a Macro.\n2. Press ALT + F11 to open the VBA Editor\n3. In the Project Explorer Window right click on the VBAProject(Excel Sheet Name) > Insert Module\n4. By Default a Module with the name \"Module1\" will be created under a Folder Modules.\n\nEdit existing Module\n\nSteps to edit any existing Module.\n\n1. In the Project Explorer Window > Click on the small plus sign in front of VBAProject (Excel Sheet Name).\n2. Sub Folders will be expanded\n3. Go to Modules Sub Folder > Double Click on the Module you want to edit\n4. A new window containing the content of the Module will be opened. Do the necessary modification > Save the Module and Close the Window.\n5. Now you have just edited the Module!\n\n## 10 Hello VBA World!\n\nOk so we have learned how to record a Macro and we discussed couple of examples where we recorded the macros. As we discussed in our earlier blog that for modifying our recorded Macros or to write our own Macro from beginning we need to use VBA Editor.\n\nNow lets write a very simple VBA code to just display a message to the user. Yeah it is compulsory to have a Hello World! Program in all the Programming Books. So here it is.\n\n1. Create a new Module as explained earlier.\n2. Type sub HelloWorld and press Enter.\n3. Press Tab, type msgbox \"Hello VBA World!\", and press Enter.\n4. Press CTRL + S to save the Module. After completing these steps your Macro would appear as below.\nSub Hello_World()\nMsgBox \"Hello VBA World!\"\nEnd Sub\n\n\nRun this Macro and be amazed.\n\n1. Go back to the Excel Sheet\n2. Press ALT + F8\n3. Select \"HelloWorld\" and press Run button When you run this Macro \"Hello VBA World!\" will be displayed on the screen. Congratulations! you have written and executed your first Excel VBA Macro.\n\nIf you like this post then why don't you subscribe to our mailing list to get the latest post right in your mail box.\n\n## 11 Procedures in VBA\n\nA procedure holds a group of VBA statements that accomplishes a desired Task. A procedure is a series of VBA statements that resides in a VBA module, which you access in the Visual Basic Editor. A module can hold any number of procedures. You have a number of ways to call, or execute, procedures. A procedure is executed from beginning to end (but it can also be ended prematurely).\n\nSome procedures are written to receive arguments. An argument is simply information that is used by the procedure that is \"passed\" to the procedure when it is executed. Procedure arguments work much like the arguments you use in Excel worksheet functions. Instructions within the procedure generally perform logical operations on these arguments, and the results of the procedure are usually based on those arguments.\n\nDeclaring a Sub procedure\n\nA procedure declared with the Sub keyword must adhere to the following syntax:\n\n[Private | Public| Static] Sub name ([arglist]) [instructions] [Exit Sub] [instructions] End Sub\n\nNow lets discuss this syntax a little bit in detail.\n\nPrivate (Optional): Indicates that the procedure is accessible only to other procedures in the same module.\n\nPublic (Optional): Indicates that the procedure is accessible to all other procedures in all other modules in the workbook. If used in a module that contains an Option Private Module statement, the procedure is not available outside the project.\n\nStatic (Optional): Indicates that the procedure\u2019s variables are preserved when the procedure ends.\n\nSub (Required): The keyword that indicates the beginning of a procedure.\n\nname (Required): Any valid procedure name.\n\narglist (Optional): Represents a list of variables, enclosed in parentheses, that receive arguments passed to the procedure. Use a comma to separate arguments. If the procedure uses no arguments, a set of empty parentheses is required.\n\ninstructions (Optional): Represents valid VBA instructions.\n\nExit Sub (Optional): A statement that forces an immediate exit from the procedure prior to its formal completion.\n\nEnd Sub (Required): Indicates the end of the procedure.\n\nProcedures are used a lot when Macros are written, mainly because they make the code re-usable. Suppose you have written a code a sort the numbers in ascending order. Now if you want to again use this code then you can just write the sorting code inside a procedure and call it from by passing the arguments (the list of numbers you want to sort).\n\n## 12 Change color of cell content using a shortcut\n\nIt is frustrating to format the report in excel. Most of the companies follows certain guidelines to present the report in a specified format like column headings should be in grey background color, the font size should be 8 etc. Changing the content color of the cell is done too often. To work faster you can use a shortcut to change the color of any cell or group of cells that you have selected.\n\n1. Create a new Module and enter the following piece of code in it.\nSub change_color()\n\nSelection.Font.Color = RGB(255, 0, 0)\n\nEnd Sub\n\n\nThe code above is self explanatory. It will change the font color of the selected cells to whatever specified in the right hand side.\n\nRGB(255,0,0) is the Red color. RGB(0,255,0) is the Green color. RGB(0,0,255) is the Blue color.\n\n1. Now press ALT + F8. A new macro with the name changecolor will now be visible. Now you can assign this Macro to a shortcut to run it directly. Click on the Options and assign a Shortcut Key like \"e\". Don't use system defined shortcuts like \"s\" which is for saving the file.\n2. After doing this just select the cell(s) and press CTRL + e or whatever shortcut key you have assigned in the step 2 above. The color of the cell content will be changed instantly.\n\nSee how simple it is to use VBA to create these small macros to make you more efficient in Excel!\n\n## 13 Refresh all Pivots in the Excel workbook\n\nAs a part of my work I have to make many complex reports with so many Pivot tables to represent the data into various formats. On an average the reports that I work with has at least four to five pivot tables in a single workbook. Pivots work great but you have to manually refresh all the pivots whenever you update the data. Well there is a feature in the excel that will auto-refresh all the pivots in your workbook each time you open it, if you have time to do that then it will work fine but personally I don't want to close and re-open the excel sheet to refresh the pivots.\n\nI would like to share this Macro that I wrote sometime back that will do your job. You can assign this macro to a Keyboard shortcut or create a custom button.\n\nSub RefreshAllPivots()\n'\n' RefreshPivot Macro\n' Macro created by Ravi Sagar\n'\n\n''Call it from workbook_activate event\n\nDim pt As PivotTable\n' Variable to store the Pivots in the workbook\n\nDim ws As Worksheet\n' Variable to store the worksheets in the workbook\n\nFor Each ws In ActiveWorkbook.Worksheets\n' we are iterating through all the worksheets in the active workbook\n\nFor Each pt In ws.PivotTables\n' Among the worksheets iterated in the outerloop we are checking for the pivots only\npt.RefreshTable\n' if there are any pivot then this line of code will refresh the first pivot stored\n' in the variable pt\nNext pt\n' Iterating to the next pivot\n\nNext ws\n' Iterating to the next worksheet\nMsgBox \"All Pivots Refreshed\"\n' Once both loops are executed then display a meesage to the user.\nEnd Sub\n\n\nJust run this macro whenever you have done any changes in the data and the pivots will refresh in one go. It will also display a message box when the job is done.\n\nI hope you like this post. If you want to get similar tips and articles directly in your mailbox then why don't you subscribe to our mailing list.\n\nHave a wonderful day!\n\n## 14 Use Excel as a Pocket Calculator\n\nSometimes you need to calculate a value before you enter it into your worksheet. Before you reach for your pocket calculator, you may like to know that Excel lets you enter a formula in a cell, and then use the result in that same cell. This way, the formula disappears and you're left with the result of the calculated value. This will not only save your time but also make you more efficient in excel because you won't need to open a separate application for finding out simple multiplications or other calculations.\n\nStart by typing your formula into the cell (for example =65*88). Then, press F2 to put the cell into edit mode. Next, press F9 to perform the calculation. Finally, just hit Enter to insert this value into the cell.\n\nRemember, when you use this technique, you replace your formula with the calculated value. If your calculation is based on the values of other cells, then Excel won't update the result if you change those other cells' values. That's the difference between a cell that has a value, and a cell that has a formula.\n\n## 15 Function to find Unique Items in a list\n\nIt happens many times when you are writing a Macro and you need to find the unique items out of the a range of items. Suppose you have an excel sheet that has the employee ids of you the people working in a company but the list has duplicate entries. Though there is a feature in excel where you can just display the unique name but to do the same using Macro you need to write a code. This is required whenever you are dealing with duplicate items in a list but you are only interested in the unique values.\n\nThe below code take range of items that has duplicate value and return the range of unique items. Use this code anywhere in your Macro.\n\nFunction UniqueItemList(InputRange As Range, _\nHorizontalList As Boolean) As Variant\nDim cl As Range, cUnique As New Collection, i As Long, uList() As Variant\nApplication.Volatile\nOn Error Resume Next\nFor Each cl In InputRange\nIf cl.Formula <> \"\" Then\nEnd If\nNext cl\nUniqueItemList = \"\"\nIf cUnique.Count > 0 Then\nReDim uList(1 To cUnique.Count)\nFor i = 1 To cUnique.Count\nuList(i) = cUnique(i)\nNext i\nUniqueItemList = uList\nIf Not HorizontalList Then\nUniqueItemList = _\nApplication.WorksheetFunction.Transpose(UniqueItemList)\nEnd If\nEnd If\nOn Error GoTo 0\nEnd Function\n\n\nIf you like reading this post then why don't you subscribe to our mailing list to get latest tips on office automation right in your mailbox.\n\n## 16 Application Volatile\n\nIn our earlier post we showed one example of User Defined Function or Custom function that one can write to perform operations that are not provided by in build functions in the excel. Though there is one limitation of User Defined Function that the formula will not automatically recalculate the values whenever the cells are updated.\n\nThere is one way to overcome this limitation and that is to use Application.Volatile in the beginning of the Macro function. This will ensure that whenever any cell is updated in the sheet the function is recalculated.\n\nUsing Application.Volatile has further limitation. It makes the excel sheet a bit slow, this is because whenever you work on the sheet that has volatile User Defined Functions then the formula is recalculated. It's not a major lag though, much like other computer applications such as Open Office and free poker standalone games, it hardly affects your computer's processing power.\n\nYou can avoid using Application.Volatile if you are not doing any changes in the sheet.\n\n## 17 Highlight Duplicates in Excel\n\nsometime we have to highlight Duplicates in excel and later work on them rather then deleting them using option \" Remove Duplicates \" . here we will use \" Conditional Formatting \" for finding-out duplicates .\n\nLet us assume the range we want to highlight duplicates is the range A1:A100.\n\n1. Select range A1:A100 Starting from A1. This will ensure the active cell is A1\n2. Go to Format>Conditional Formatting and choose \"Formula is\"\n3. In the right hand box type the formula as show below\n\n=COUNTIF($A$1:$A$100,A1)>1\n\n1. Click the \"Format\" button and choose any desired format to apply to any duplicate entries. i advice to use some colour so that later u can \" Filter by color \" Option .\n2. Click \"Ok\" then \"Ok\" again .\n3. 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{"url":"https:\/\/arxiv.xilesou.top\/list\/cond-mat\/new","text":"# Condensed Matter\n\n## New submissions\n\n[ total of 109 entries: 1-109 ]\n[ showing up to 2000 entries per page: fewer | more ]\n\n### New submissions for Wed, 19 Feb 20\n\n[1]\nTitle: Asymptotic Behavior of Spanning Forests and Connected Spanning Subgraphs on Two-Dimensional Lattices\nComments: 33 pages, 30 tables. arXiv admin note: text overlap with arXiv:1810.07357\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nWe calculate exponential growth constants $\\phi$ and $\\sigma$ describing the asymptotic behavior of spanning forests and connected spanning subgraphs on strip graphs, with arbitrarily great length, of several two-dimensional lattices, including square, triangular, honeycomb, and certain heteropolygonal Archimedean lattices. By studying the limiting values as the strip widths get large, we infer lower and upper bounds on these exponential growth constants for the respective infinite lattices. Since our lower and upper bounds are quite close to each other, we can infer very accurate approximate values for these exponential growth constants, with fractional uncertainties ranging from $O(10^{-4})$ to $O(10^{-2})$. We show that $\\phi$ and $\\sigma$, are monotonically increasing functions of vertex degree for these lattices.\n\n[2]\nTitle: Neutron scattering off Weyl semimetals\nComments: 23 pages and 11 figures. To be submitted to Physical Review X\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nWe present how to detect type-$1$ Weyl nodes in a material by inelastic neutron scattering. Such an experiment first of all allows one to determine the dispersion of the Weyl fermions. We extend the reasoning to produce a quantitative test of the Weyl equation taking into account realistic anisotropic properties. These anisotropies are mostly contained in the form of the emergent magnetic moment of the excitations, which determines how they couple to the neutron. Although there are many material parameters, we find several quantitative predictions that are universal and demonstrate that the excitations are described by solutions to the Weyl equation. The realistic, anisotropic coupling between electrons and neutrons implies that even fully unpolarized neutrons can reveal the spin-momentum locking of the Weyl fermions because the neutrons will couple to some components of the Weyl fermion pseudospin more strongly. On the other hand, in an experiment with polarized neutrons, the scattered neutron beam remains fully polarized in a direction that varies as a function of momentum transfer (within the range of validity of the Weyl equation). This allows measurement of the chirality of Weyl fermions for inversion symmetric nodes. Furthermore, we estimate that the scattering rate may be large enough for such experiments to be practical; in particular, the magnetic moment may be larger than the ordinary Bohr magneton, compensating for a small density of states.\n\n[3]\nTitle: Bloch-Siegert oscillations in the Rabi model with an amplitude-modulated driving field\nComments: 9 pages, 3 figures. arXiv admin note: substantial text overlap with arXiv:1906.04528\nJournal-ref: Laser Phys. 29 124004 (2019)\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n\nWe study the coherent dynamics of a qubit excited by an amplitude-modulated electromagnetic field under the Rabi resonance when the frequency of the low-frequency modulation field matches the Rabi frequency in the high-frequency field. Due to destructive interference of multiple photon processes at the ultrastrong coupling between the qubit and the low-frequency driving field, Rabi oscillations result exclusively from the Bloch-Siegert effect. It is directly observed in the time-resolved coherent dynamics as the Bloch-Siegert oscillation. In this case, triplets in Fourier spectra of the coherent response are transformed into doublets with the splitting between the lines equal to twice the Bloch-Siegert shift. These unusual properties are demonstrated in conditions of experiments with a nitrogen vacancy center in diamond.\n\n[4]\nTitle: Linear resistivity and Sachdev-Ye-Kitaev (SYK) spin liquid behavior in a quantum critical metal with spin-$1\/2$ fermions\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nStrange metals' with resistivity depending linearly on temperature $T$ down to low-$T$ have been a long-standing puzzle in condensed matter physics. Here, we consider a model of itinerant spin-$1\/2$ fermions interacting via on-site Hubbard interaction and random infinite-ranged spin-spin interaction. We show that the quantum critical point associated with the melting of the spin-glass phase by charge fluctuations displays non-Fermi liquid behaviour, with local spin dynamics identical to that of the Sachdev-Ye-Kitaev family of models. This extends the quantum spin liquid dynamics previously established in the large-$M$ limit of $SU(M)$ symmetric models, to models with physical $SU(2)$ spin-$1\/2$ electrons. Remarkably, the quantum critical regime also features a Planckian linear-$T$ resistivity associated with a $T$-linear scattering rate and a frequency dependence of the electronic self-energy consistent with the Marginal Fermi Liquid phenomenology.\n\n[5]\nTitle: Enhancement of magnetization plateaus in low dimensional spin systems\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nWe study the low-energy properties and, in particular, the magnetization process of a spin-1\/2 Heisenberg $J_1-J_2$ sawtooth and frustrated chain (also known as zig-zag ladder) with a spatially anisotropic $g$-factor. We treat the problem both analytically and numerically while keeping the $J_2\/J_1$ ratio generic. Numerically, we use complete and Lanczos diagonalization as well as the infinite time-evolving block decimation (iTEBD) method. Analytically we employ (non-)Abelian bosonization. Additionally for the sawtooth chain, we provide an analytical description in terms of flat bands and localized magnons. By considering a specific pattern for the $g$-factor anisotropy for both models, we show that a small anisotropy significantly enhances a magnetization plateau at half saturation. For the magnetization of the frustrated chain, we show the destruction of the $1\/3$ of the full saturation plateau in favor of the creation of a plateau at half-saturation. For large anisotropies, the existence of an additional plateau at zero magnetization is possible. Here and at higher magnetic fields, the system is locked in the half-saturation plateau, never reaching full saturation.\n\n[6]\nTitle: The Frustration of being Odd: Can Boundary Conditions induce a Quantum Phase Transition?\nComments: 15 pages (including Supplementary Materials), 3 figures\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); High Energy Physics - Theory (hep-th); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n\nThe answer to the question in the title is clearly No'', but we report on something very similar to that, namely a Boundary-less Wetting Transitions'' (BWT). We consider the effect of frustrated boundary condition (FBC) on generic local spin-$1\/2$ chains in zero field, specifically, we apply periodic boundary conditions on chains with an odd number of sites. In a previous work, we already proved that when only one antiferromagnetic interaction dominates over ferromagnetic ones, in the thermodynamic limit local order (expressed by the spontaneous magnetization) is destroyed. Here, we show that with two competing AFM interactions a new type of order can emerge, with a magnetization profile that varies in space with an incommensurate pattern. This modulation is the result of a ground state degeneracy which leads to a breaking of translational invariance. The transition between the two cases is signaled by an intensive discontinuity in the first derivative of the ground state energy: this is thus not a standard first-order QPT, but rather looks like a boundary QPT, in a system without boundaries, but with FBC.\n\n[7]\nTitle: Enhanced topological protection in planar quasi-one-dimensional channels with periodically-modulated width\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nWe study one dimensional (1D) and quasi-1D periodic structures as possible platforms for the emergence of Majorana bound states with enhanced robustness against disorder and system inhomogeneity. First, using a simple 1D model, we analytically derive the effective parameters characterizing the minibands generated by the periodic potential. We show that, for strong enough periodic potentials, the higher energy minibands hosting Majorana bound states have significant advantages compared to their counterparts in uniform systems, including increased topological gaps, enhanced robustness against disorder, and enlarged parameter space regions consistent with the presence of topological superconductivity. We identify the problem of engineering a strong enough periodic potential as a key roadblock to realizing efficient periodic 1D structures. To address this challenge, we propose an efficient implementation of the periodic potential based on quasi-1D channels realized in 2D semiconductor heterostructures proximity coupled to superconductor strips of periodically modulated width. Our numerical study of the modulated channel device shows excellent agreement with the simple 1D model, reveals a topological phase diagram that is quite insensitive to the details of the confining potential associated with screening by the superconductor, and demonstrates that engineering patterned 2D structures represents a powerful and versatile approach to realizing robust Majorana bound states.\n\n[8]\nTitle: Compression stiffening of fibrous networks with stiff inclusions\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft); Biological Physics (physics.bio-ph)\n\nBiological tissues commonly consist of volume-preserving cells embedded within a fibrous biopolymer network. These cell-network composites exhibit unusual mechanical behaviors that distinguish them from cell-free networks. Whereas reconstituted biopolymer networks typically soften under applied uniaxial compression, various tissues, including liver, brain, and fat, have been observed to instead stiffen when compressed. The mechanism for this compression stiffening effect is not yet clear. Here, we demonstrate that when a material composed of stiff inclusions embedded in a fibrous network is compressed, heterogeneous rearrangement of the inclusions can induce tension within the interstitial network, leading to a macroscopic crossover from an initial bending-dominated softening regime to a stretching-dominated stiffening regime, and that this transition occurs before and independently of jamming of the inclusions. Using a coarse-grained particle-network model, we first establish a phase diagram for compression-driven, stretching-dominated stress propagation and jamming in uniaxially compressed 2- and 3-dimensional systems. Then, we demonstrate that a more detailed computational model of stiff inclusions in a subisostatic semiflexible fiber network exhibits quantitative agreement with the predictions of our coarse-grained model as well as qualitative agreement with experiments.\n\n[9]\nTitle: Surface chiral superconductivity and skyrmions in odd-parity superconductors with magnetic impurities\nAuthors: Luca Chirolli\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nChiral superconductivity is a highly interesting, albeit elusive, unconventional state of matter, of great relevance in topological quantum computation. We show that magnetic impurities on the surface of a bulk odd-parity nematic superconductor can stabilize a surface time-reversal symmetry breaking solution, associated with the condensation of a finite out-of-plane magnetization of the impurity ensemble. The two-component odd-parity character of the order parameter promotes stable topological excitations in the form of Skyrmion textures in the surface chiral order parameter, with winding number ${\\cal Q}=2$. The magnetic impurities locally align to the chiral order parameter and a radially varying magnetization is generated, providing signatures of the surface chiral state.\n\n[10]\nTitle: Stationary properties of a Brownian gyrator with non-Markovian baths\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nWe investigate the stochastic behavior of a two-temperature Langevin system with non-Markovian thermal reservoirs. The model describes an overdamped Brownian particle in a quadratic potential and coupled to heat baths at different temperatures. The reservoirs are characterized by Gaussian white and colored noises and a dissipation memory kernel. The stationary states present non-trivial average rotational motion influenced by stochastic torques due to harmonic, friction and fluctuating thermal forces. However, the Markovian limit leads to a vanishing average torque produced by fluctuating thermal forces. We also study the effects of memory on the stochastic heat and the entropy production in the steady-state regime.\n\n[11]\nTitle: Predicting new superconductors and their critical temperatures using unsupervised machine learning\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nWe used the superconductors in the SuperCon database to construct element vectors and then perform unsupervised learning of their critical temperatures (T$_c$). Only the chemical composition of superconductors was used in this procedure. No physical predictors (neither experimental nor computational) of any kind were used. We achieved the coefficient of determination R$^2$$\\simeq$0.93, which is comparable and in some cases higher then similar estimates using other artificial intelligence techniques. Based on this machine learning model, we predicted several new superconductors with high critical temperatures. We also discuss the factors that limit the learning process and suggest possible ways to overcome them.\n\n[12]\nTitle: Coulomb-Like Diffusiophoretic Interaction Between Catalytic Particles\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft)\n\nWe calculate the concentration fields of solutes $A$ and $B$ around a sphere whose surface can catalyze the interconversion reaction $A \\leftrightharpoons B$ which is maintained out of equilibrium by controlling the bulk concentrations of the solutes. We use the results to compute the interaction between two such catalytic spheres in the limit when their separation $r$ is much larger than their radius $R$ and show that the resulting diffusiophoretic force on each particle is Coulomb-like: it decreases as $1\/r^2$, can be attractive or repulsive, and is screened on length scales larger than some penetration depth $\\xi$. The relevance of our results to experiments on catalytic colloids is discussed.\n\n[13]\nTitle: Shear induced ordering in systems with competing interactions: A machine learning study\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft)\n\nWhen short-range attractions are combined with long-range repulsions in colloidal particle systems, complex microphases can emerge. Here, we study a system of isotropic particles which can form lamellar structures or a disordered fluid phase when temperature is varied. We show that at equilibrium the lamellar structure crystallizes, while out of equilibrium the system forms a variety of structures at different shear rates and temperatures above melting. The shear-induced ordering is analyzed by means of principal component analysis and artificial neural networks, which are applied to data of reduced dimensionality. Our results reveal the possibility of inducing ordering by shear, potentially providing a feasible route to the fabrication of ordered lamellar structures from isotropic particles.\n\n[14]\nTitle: Weyl-Kondo Semimetal: Towards Control of Weyl Nodes\nComments: 6 pages, 3 figures; To appear in Japanese Physical Society's Conference Proceedings; Strongly Correlated Electron Systems 2019\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nHeavy fermion semimetals represent a promising setting to explore topological metals driven by strong correlations. In this paper, we i) summarize the theoretical results in a Weyl-Kondo semimetal phase for a strongly correlated model with inversion-symmetry-breaking and time-reversal invariance, and the concurrent work that has experimentally discovered this phase in the non-magnetic non-centrosymmetric heavy fermion system Ce$_3$Bi$_4$Pd$_3$; and ii) describe what is expected theoretically when the time-reversal symmetry is also broken.\n\n[15]\nTitle: A steep-slope MoS2-nanoribbon MOSFET based on an intrinsic cold-contact effect\nJournal-ref: IEEE Electron Device Letters, vol. 40, pp. 1550 - 1553 (2019)\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nWe propose a steep-slope MoS2-nanoribbon field-effect transistor that exploits a narrow-energy conduction band to intrinsically filter out the thermionic tail of the electron energy distribution. We study the device operation principle and the performance dependence on the design parameters through atomistic self-consistent quantum simulations. Our results indicate that the device can provide high ION\/IOFF ratios, compatible with electronic applications, albeit biased at ultralow voltages of around 0.1 V.\n\n[16]\nTitle: Trapped Transient Magnons in the Gapped Antiferromagnet Sr3Ir2O7\nComments: 8 pages, 5 figures, not including supplemental material\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nAlthough ultrafast manipulation of magnetism holds great promise for new physical phenomena and applications, targeting specific states is held back by our limited understanding of how magnetic correlations evolve on ultrafast timescales. Using ultrafast resonant x-ray scattering techniques, we elucidate the evolution of transient magnetic correlations in the gapped antiferromagnet Sr3Ir2O7. We show that transient magnetic fluctuations are trapped throughout the entire Brillouin zone, opposite to the behavior in a nearly gapless material. The result is interpreted in a spin-bottleneck scenario, in which the full recovery of magnetism is delayed by the existence of a large magnon gap. Our results suggest that materials featuring isotropic magnetic interactions are preferred to achieve rapid manipulation of magnetic order.\n\n[17]\nTitle: Parity non-conservation in a condensed matter system\nAuthors: Veit Elser\nSubjects: Other Condensed Matter (cond-mat.other); High Energy Physics - Phenomenology (hep-ph); Atomic Physics (physics.atom-ph)\n\nThe nuclear spin of a He$^3$ quasiparticle dissolved in superfluid He$^4$ sees an apparent magnetic field proportional to the Fermi coupling constant, the superfluid condensate density, and the electron current at the He$^3$ nucleus. Whereas the direction of the current must be parallel to the quasiparticle momentum, calculating its magnitude presents an interesting theoretical challenge because it vanishes in the Born-Oppenheimer approximation. We find the effect is too small to be observed and present our results in the hope others will be inspired to look for similar effects in other systems.\n\n[18]\nTitle: Epitaxial growth of SiC on (100) Diamond\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph)\n\nWe demonstrate locally coherent heteroepitaxial growth of silicon carbide (SiC) on diamond, a result contrary to current understanding of heterojunctions as the lattice mismatch exceeds $20\\%$. High-resolution transmission electron microscopy (HRTEM) confirms the quality and atomic structure near the interface. Guided by molecular dynamics simulations, a theoretical model is proposed for the interface wherein the large lattice strain is alleviated via point dislocations in a two-dimensional plane without forming extended defects in three dimensions. The possibility of realising heterojunctions of technologically important materials such as SiC with diamond offers promising pathways for thermal management of high power electronics. At a fundamental level, the study redefines our understanding of heterostructure formation with large lattice mismatch.\n\n[19]\nTitle: Rate-dependent Stick-slips and a Three-state Diagram: Frictional Granular-fluid Flows beyond Dense Suspension\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft); Fluid Dynamics (physics.flu-dyn)\n\nWe investigate the slow flow of fluid-immersed frictional particles at high packing fractions. Centimeter-sized PDMS particles, immersed in glycerol-water mixture, are driven between roughened cones with a fixed total volume. We characterize the rate-dependent fluctuations of the packing under steady shearing, using time-resolved multi-component force measurements in combination with refraction-index-matched internal images. The occurrence of stick-slip avalanches provides a distinct signature that sets apart the regime of viscous sliding and that of plastic yielding. Our observations suggest a three-regime phase diagram as a generic description for flows of frictional particles that exhibit velocity-weakening tribology, and offer test grounds for theories in understanding packed systems with solid-fluid duality.\n\n[20]\nTitle: Universality of semisuper-Efimov effect\nSubjects: Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas); Nuclear Theory (nucl-th)\n\nWe study the semisuper-Efimov effect, which is found for four identical bosons with a resonant three-body interaction in 2D, in various systems. Based on solutions of bound-state and renormalization-group equations, we first demonstrate an emergence of the semisuper-Efimov effect in mass-imbalanced bosons in 2D. Compared with the Efimov and the super-Efimov effects, the mass ratio-dependent scaling parameter is unexpectedly found to take on a finite value even for extremely mass-imbalanced situations, where the mass ratio is 0 or $\\infty$. By a renormalization-group analysis, we also show that a weak two-body interaction sustains the semisuper-Efimov effect. Finally, we liberate the universality of the semisuper-Efimov effect from 2D by showing that bosons with linear-dispersion relation support the semisuper-Efimov effect in 1D.\n\n[21]\nTitle: Evidence of itinerant holes for long-range magnetic order in tungsten diselenide semiconductor with vanadium dopants\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Applied Physics (physics.app-ph)\n\nOne primary concern in diluted magnetic semiconductors (DMSs) is how to establish a long-range magnetic order with a low magnetic doping concentration to maintain the gate tunability of the host semiconductor, as well as to increase Curie temperature. Two-dimensional van der Waals semiconductors have been recently investigated to demonstrate the magnetic order in DMSs; however, a comprehensive understanding of the mechanism responsible for the gate-tunable long-range magnetic order in DMSs has not been achieved yet. Here, we introduce a monolayer tungsten diselenide (WSe2) semiconductor with V dopants to demonstrate the long-range magnetic order through itinerant spin-polarized holes. The V atoms are sparsely located in the host lattice by substituting W atoms, which is confirmed by scanning tunneling microscopy and high-resolution transmission electron microscopy. The V impurity states and the valence band edge states are overlapped, which is congruent with density functional theory calculations. The field-effect transistor characteristics reveal the itinerant holes within the hybridized band; this clearly resembles the Zener model. Our study gives an insight into the mechanism of the long-range magnetic order in V-doped WSe2, which can also be used for other magnetically doped semiconducting transition metal dichalcogenides.\n\n[22]\nTitle: BCS-BEC crossover in a $(t_{2g})^4$ Excitonic Magnet\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nThe condensation of spin-orbit-induced excitons in $(t_{2g})^4$ electronic systems is attracting considerable attention. In the large Hubbard U limit, antiferromagnetism was proposed to emerge from the Bose-Einstein Condensation (BEC) of triplons ($J_{\\textrm{eff}} = 1$). In this publication, we show that even for the weak and intermediate U regimes, the spin-orbit exciton condensation is possible leading also to staggered magnetic order. The canonical electron-hole excitations (excitons) transform into local triplon excitations at large U , and this BEC strong coupling regime is smoothly connected to the intermediate U excitonic insulator region. We solved the degenerate three-orbital Hubbard model with spin-orbit coupling ($\\lambda$) in one-dimensional geometry using the Density Matrix Renormalization Group, while in two-dimensional square clusters we use the Hartree-Fock approximation (HFA). Employing these techniques, we provide the full $\\lambda$ vs U phase diagrams for both one- and two- dimensional lattices. Our main result is that at the intermediate Hubbard U region of our focus, increasing $\\lambda$ at fixed U the system transitions from an incommensurate spin-density-wave metal to a Bardeen-Cooper-Schrieffer (BCS) excitonic insulator, with coherence length r coh of O(a) and O(10a) in 1d and 2d, respectively, with a the lattice spacing. Further increasing $\\lambda$, the system eventually crosses over to the BEC limit (with r coh << a).\n\n[23]\nTitle: One dimensionality of the spin-polarized surface conduction and valence bands on Bi\/GaSb(110)-(2$\\times$1)\nComments: 16 pages, 5 figures and 1 table\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nSurface electronic structure and its one-dimensionality above and below the Fermi level ($E_{\\rm F}$) were surveyed on the Bi\/GaSb(110)-(2$\\times$1) surface hosting quasi-one-dimensional (Q1D) Bi chains, using normal and two-photon angle-resolved photoelectron spectroscopy (ARPES) and theoretical calculations. ARPES results reveal that the Q1D electronic states are within the projected bulk bandgap. Circular dichroism of two-photon ARPES and density-functional-theory calculation indicate clear spin and orbital polarization of the surface states consistent with the giant sizes of Rashba-type SOI, derived from the strong contribution of heavy Bi atoms. The surface conduction band above $E_{\\rm F}$ forms a nearly straight constant-energy contour, suggesting its suitability for application in further studies of one-dimensional electronic systems with strong SOI. A tight-binding model calculation based on the obtained surface electronic structure successfully reproduces the surface band dispersions and predicts possible one- to two-dimensional crossover in the temperature range of 60--100~K.\n\n[24]\nTitle: Prediction of $f$-wave pairing symmetry in YBCO cuprates\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con)\n\nWe perform a numerical simulation of a three-band Hubbard model with two CuO$_2$ planes and a single CuO chain layer for YBCO cuprates. The spin-fluctuation mediated pairing interaction is computed within the multiband random-phase approximation, and its pairing eigenvalues and eigenfunctions are solved as a function of chain state filling factor $n_c$. We find that for the intrinsic value of $n_c$ in YBCO samples, one obtains the usual $d$-wave pairing symmetry. However, if we dope the chain layers with holes, while keeping the plane states doping fixed, the leading pairing symmetry solution becomes a unconventional $f$-wave symmetry. The mechanism behind the $f$-wave pairing is the competition between the plane states antiferromagnetic nesting and chain states' uniaxial nesting. We also find that the pairing strength is strongly augmented when the flat band bottom of the chain state passes the Fermi level for a fixed plane states doping. The $f$-wave pairing symmetry can be realized in YBCO cuprates in future experiments where self-doping mechanism between the chain and plane states can be minimized so that only chain state can be selectively hole-doped.\n\n[25]\nTitle: Field-induced dimer orders in quantum spin chains\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nField-induced excitation gaps in quantum spin chains are an interesting phenomenon related to confinements of topological excitations. In this paper, I present a novel type of this phenomenon. I show that an effective magnetic field with a fourfold screw symmetry induces the excitation gap accompanied by dimer orders. The gap and dimer orders induced so exhibit characteristic power-law dependence on the fourfold screw-symmetric field. Moreover, the field-induced dimer order and the field-induced N\\'eel order coexist when the external uniform magnetic field, the fourfold screw-symmetric field, and the twofold staggered field are applied. This situation is in close connection with a compound [Cu(pym)(H$_2$O)$_4$]SiF$_6$ [J. Liu et al., Phys. Rev. Lett. 122, 057207 (2019)]. In this paper, I discuss a mechanism of field-induced dimer orders by using a density-matrix renormalization group method, a perturbation theory, and quantum field theories.\n\n[26]\nTitle: Artificial Graphene in a Strong Magnetic Field: Bulk Current Distribution and Quantum Phase Transitions\nComments: 10 pages , 7 figures\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nWe present calculations of the equilibrium current density and Chern numbers for a 2DEG in a periodic potential with infinite strip geometry and a perpendicular magnetic field. We consider a triangular lattice of anti-dots with large (a = 120 nm) lattice spacing. Such a system is known as artificial graphene (AG). To compute the current density we numerically diagonalise the AG Hamiltonian over a set of Landau level basis states, this takes into account coupling between different Landau levels. Our calculations show that, at magnetic fields typical for quantum Hall measurements, extended streams of current are present in the bulk of the sample. We investigate the scaling of these streams with potential strength. Knowledge of the AG energy levels allows us to compute the Chern number associated with each energy gap. We demonstrate that in tuning the height of the potential modulation the Chern number can undergo a transition between two different values.\n\n[27]\nTitle: The Layer-inserting Growth of Antiferromagnetic Topological Insulator MnBi$_2$Te$_4$ Based on Symmetry and Its X-ray Photoelectron Spectroscopy\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nThe antiferromagnetic topological insulator has attracted lots of attention recently, as its intrinsic magnetism and topological property makes it a potential material to realize the quantum anomalous Hall effect (QAHE) at relative high temperature. Until now, only MnBi$_2$Te$_4$ is predicted and grown successfully. The other MB$_2$T$_4$-family materials predicted (MB$_2$T$_4$:M=transition-metal or rare-earth element, B=Bi or Sb, T=Te, Se, or S) with not only antiferromagnetic topological property but also rich and exotic topological quantum states and dynamically stable (or metastable) structure have not been realized on experiment completely. Here, MnBi$_2$Te$_4$ single crystals have been grown successfully and tested. It shows typical antiferromagnetic character, with Neel temperature of 24.5K and a spin-flop transition at H$\\thickapprox$35000 Oe, 1.8K. After obtaining MnBi$_2$Te$_4$ single crystals, we have tried to synthesize the other members of MB$_2$T$_4$-family materials, but things are not going so well. Then it inspires us to discuss the growth mechanism of MnBi$_2$Te$_4$. The growth mode may be the layer-inserting growth mode based on symmetry, which is supported by our X-ray photoelectron spectroscopy (XPS) measurement. The XPS measurement combing with the $Ar^+$ ion sputtering is done to investigate the chemical state of MnBi$_2$Te$_4$. Binding energies (BE) of the MnBi$_2$Te$_4$-related contributions to Mn2p and Te3d spectra agree well with those of inserting material $\\alpha$-MnTe. Rising intensity of the Mn2p satellite for divalent Mn (bound to chalcogen) with atomic number of ligand (from MnO to MnBi$_2$Te$_4$) has been observed, thus suggesting classification of MnBi$_2$Te$_4$ as the charge-transfer compound. Understanding the growth mode of MnBi$_2$Te$_4$ can help us to grow the other members of MB$_2$T$_4$-family materials.\n\n[28]\nTitle: Synchronization in leader-follower switching dynamics\nAuthors: Jinha Park, B. Kahng\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nThe features of animal population dynamics, for instance, flocking and migration, are often synchronized for survival under large-scale climate change or perceived threats. These coherent phenomena have been explained using synchronization models. However, such models do not take into account asynchronous and adaptive updating of an individual's status at each time. Here, we modify the Kuramoto model slightly by classifying oscillators as leaders or followers, according to their angular velocity at each time, where individuals interact asymmetrically according to their leader\/follower status. As the angular velocities of the oscillators are updated, the leader and follower status may also be reassigned. Owing to this adaptive dynamics, oscillators may cooperate by taking turns acting as a leader or follower. This may result in intriguing patterns of synchronization transitions, including hybrid phase transitions, and produce the leader-follower switching pattern observed in bird migration patterns.\n\n[29]\nTitle: Many-Body Physics with Individually-Controlled Rydberg Atoms\nComments: 14 pages, 6 figures, 115 references. Invited review in Nature Physics. This is the manuscript as initially submitted; there are only very minor changes in the published version\nJournal-ref: Nature Physics 16, 132 (2020)\nSubjects: Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas); Atomic Physics (physics.atom-ph); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n\nOver the last decade, systems of individually-controlled neutral atoms, interacting with each other when excited to Rydberg states, have emerged as a promising platform for quantum simulation of many-body problems, in particular spin systems. Here, we review the techniques underlying quantum gas microscopes and arrays of optical tweezers used in these experiments, explain how the different types of interactions between Rydberg atoms allow a natural mapping onto various quantum spin models, and describe recent results that were obtained with this platform to study quantum many-body physics.\n\n[30]\nTitle: The asymmetric damage avalanche shape in quasi-brittle materials\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nCrackling dynamics is characterized by a release of incoming energy through intermittent avalanches. The shape, i.e. the internal temporal structure of these avalanches, gives insightful information about the physical processes involved. It was experimentally shown recently that progressive damage towards compressive failure of quasi-brittle materials can be mapped onto the universality class of interface depinning when considering scaling relationships between the global characteristics of the microcracking avalanches, such as energy and duration. Here we show, for three concrete materials prepared from three different mixtures, and from a detailed analysis of the acoustic emission waveforms generated by microcracking events, that the shape of these damage avalanches is strongly asymmetric, characterized by a very slow decay. This remarkable asymmetry, at odds with mean-field depinning predictions, could be explained, in these quasi-brittle materials, by retardation effects induced by enhanced viscoelastic processes within a fracture process zone generated by the damage avalanche as it progresses.\n\n[31]\nTitle: Non-Hermitian mobility edges in one-dimensional quasicrystals with parity-time symmetry\nSubjects: Disordered Systems and Neural Networks (cond-mat.dis-nn)\n\nWe investigate localization-delocalization transition in one-dimensional non-Hermitian quasiperiodic lattices with exponential short-range hopping, which possess parity-time ($\\mathcal{PT}$) symmetry. The localization transition induced by the non-Hermitian quasiperiodic potential is found to occur at the $\\mathcal{PT}$-symmetry-breaking point. Our results also demonstrate the existence of energy dependent mobility edges, which separate the extended states from localized states and are only associated with the real part of eigen-energies. The level statistics and Loschmidt echo dynamics are also studied.\n\n[32]\nTitle: Magnetic phase diagram and magneto-elastic coupling of NiTiO3\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nWe report high-resolution dilatometry on high-quality single crystals of NiTiO3 grown by means of the optical floating-zone technique. The anisotropic magnetic phase diagram is constructed from thermal expansion and magnetostriction studies up to B=15T and magnetization studies in static (15T) and pulsed (60T) magnetic fields. Our data allow to quantitatively study magneto-elastic coupling and to determine uniaxial pressure dependencies. While the entropy changes are found to be of magnetic nature, Gr\\\"{u}neisen analysis implies only one relevant energy scale in the whole low-temperature regime. Thereby, our data suggest that the observed structural changes due to magneto-elastic coupling and previously reported magnetodielectric coupling[1] are driven by the same $magnetic$ degrees of freedom that lead to long-range magnetic order in NiTiO3, which in turn, establishes a linear magnetodielectric coupling in this compound.\n\n[33]\nTitle: On the Slowing Down of Spin Glass Correlation Length Growth:simulations meet experiments\nComments: Version accepted in PRB (see this https URL)\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. B 100, 094202 (2019)\nSubjects: Disordered Systems and Neural Networks (cond-mat.dis-nn)\n\nThe growth of the spin-glass correlation length has been measured as a function of the waiting time $t_{\\mathrm{w}}$ on a single crystal of CuMn (6 at.\\%), reaching values $\\xi\\sim 150$ nm, larger than any other glassy correlation-length measured to date. We find an aging rate $\\mathrm{d}\\ln\\,t_{\\mathrm{w}}\/\\mathrm{d}\\ln\\,\\xi$ larger than found in previous measurements, which evinces a dynamic slowing-down as $\\xi$ grows. Our measured aging rate is compared with simulation results by the Janus collaboration. After critical effects are taken into account, we find excellent agreement with the Janus data.\n\n[34]\nTitle: Topological characterization of non-Hermitian multiband systems using Majorana's Stellar Representation\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n\nFor topological characterization of non-Hermitian multiband systems, Majorana's stellar representation (MSR) is applied to 1D multiband models consisting of asymmetric nearest-neighbor hopping and imaginary on-site potentials. The number of edge states isolated from the continuous bulk bands in the complex energy plane is successfully linked with a topological invariant constructed from MSR. Specifically, the number of isolated edge states can be obtained from a winding number defined for the Majorana stars, which also allows for a geometric visualization of the topology related to the isolated edge modes. A remarkable success of our approach is that our winding number characterization remains valid even in the presence of exceptional points of the continuous bulk bands, where the Hamiltonian becomes non-diagonalizable and hence conventional topological invariants such as the Zak phase and the Chern number cannot be properly defined. Furthermore, cases with the so-called non-Hermitian skin effect are also studied, showing that the bulk-boundary correspondence between our defined winding numbers and isolated edge states can be restored. Of particular interest is a four-band example with an odd number of isolated edge states, where the Zak phase approach necessarily fails upon removing the skin effect, but our MSR-based characterization works equally well. For these reasons, our study is expected to be widely useful in topological studies of non-Hermitian multiband systems, regardless of the skin effect or the presence of the exceptional points in non-Hermitian systems.\n\n[35]\nTitle: Effect of Cations Transmutation on the Electronic Structure and Optical Properties of Lead-Free Perovskites A2BX6\nComments: 25 pages, 12 Figures, 4 Tables\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nA comprehensive study of the electronic structure and optical properties of A2BX6 lead-free perovskites has been carried out by means of first principles method based on DFT. The calculations are performed for the compound of the type A2BX6 with A=Rb, and Cs; B=Sn, Pd, and Pt; and X=Cl, Br, and I. The computed band gap reveals a semiconducting profile for all these compounds showing a decreasing trend of the band gap energy by changing the halide ions consecutively from Cl to Br and Br to I. However, for variation in the B-site cation, the band gap increases by changing the cation from Pd to Pt via Sn. The most likely compounds, Rb2PdBr6 and Cs2PtI6, exhibit a band gap within the optimal range of 0.9-1.6 eV for single-junction photovoltaic applications. The optical properties in terms of the optimal value of the absorption coefficient and high optical conductivity suggest that these compounds can be used in solar cells and optoelectronic applications. Our results indicate that upon changing the halogens ions (Cl by Br and Br by I) the optical properties altered significantly. Maximum dielectric constants and optical absorption are found for Rb2PdI6 and Cs2PdI6. The unique optoelectronic properties such as ideal band gap, high dielectric constants, and optimum absorption of A2BX6 perovskites could be efficiently utilized in designing high performance single and multi-junction perovskite solar cells.\n\n[36]\nTitle: Josephson junction based on highly disordered superconductor\/low-resistive normal metal bilayer\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con)\n\nWe calculate current-phase relation (CPR) of a SN-S-SN Josephson junction based on a variable thickness SN bilayer composed of highly disordered superconductor (S) and low-resistive normal metal (N) with proximity induced superconductivity. In case when the thickness of S,N layers and length of S constriction is about of superconducting coherence length the CPR is single-valued, could be close to sinusoidal one and the product $I_cR_n$ can reach $\\Delta(0)\/2|e|$ ($I_c$ is the critical current of the junction, $R_n$ is its normal-state resistance, $\\Delta(0)$ is the superconductor gap of single S layer at zero temperature). We argue that the normal layer should provide good heat removal from S constriction and there is range of parameters when current-voltage characteristic is not hysteretic and $I_cR_n$ is relatively large.\n\n[37]\nTitle: Jamming below upper critical dimension\nAuthors: Harukuni Ikeda\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft); Disordered Systems and Neural Networks (cond-mat.dis-nn); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nExtensive numerical simulation in the past decades proved that the critical exponents of the jamming of frictionless spherical particles remain unchanged in two and three dimensions. This implies that the upper critical dimension is $d_u=2$ or lower. In this work, we study the jamming transition below the upper critical dimension. We investigate a quasi-one-dimensional system: disks confined in a narrow channel. We show that the system is isostatic at the jamming transition point as in the case of standard jamming transition of the bulk systems in two and three dimensions. Nevertheless, the scaling of the excess contact number shows the linear scaling. Furthermore, the gap distribution remains finite even at the jamming transition point. These results are qualitatively different from that of the bulk systems in two and three dimensions, and imply that the quasi-one-dimensional system belongs to a different universality class.\n\n[38]\nTitle: Robust Bilayer Charge-Pumping for Spin- and Density-Resolved Quantum Gas Microscopy\nSubjects: Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas)\n\nQuantum gas microscopy has emerged as a powerful new way to probe quantum many-body systems at the microscopic level. However, layered or efficient spin-resolved readout methods have remained scarce as they impose strong demands on the specific atomic species and constrain the simulated lattice geometry and size. Here we present a novel high-fidelity bilayer readout, which can be used for full spin- and density-resolved quantum gas microscopy of two-dimensional systems with arbitrary geometry. Our technique makes use of an initial Stern-Gerlach splitting into adjacent layers of a highly-stable vertical superlattice and subsequent charge pumping to separate the layers by $21\\,\\mu$m. This separation enables independent high-resolution images of each layer. We benchmark our method by spin- and density-resolving two-dimensional Fermi-Hubbard systems. Our technique furthermore enables the access to advanced entropy engineering schemes, spectroscopic methods or the realization of tunable bilayer systems.\n\n[39]\nTitle: A combined laser-based ARPES and 2PPES study of Td-WTe$_2$\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nLaser-based angle-resolved photoemission spectroscopy (ARPES) and two-photon photoemission spectroscopy (2PPES) are employed to study the valence electronic structure of the Weyl semimetal candidate Td-WTe$_2$ along two high symmetry directions and for binding energies between $\\approx$ -1 eV and 5 eV. The experimental data show a good agreement with band structure calculations. Polarization dependent measurements provide furthermore information on initial and intermediate state symmetry properties with respect to the mirror plane of the Td structure of WTe$_2$.\n\n[40]\nTitle: Model of interacting equilibrium and non-equilibrium phase transitions\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nIf the system simultaneously undergoes a non-equilibrium phase transition and an equilibrium phase transition accompanied by phase separation, it could be of considerable interest to study their interaction. In this communication the non-equilibrium phase transitions are presented by the canonical chemical models introduced by Schl\\\"ogl. The equilibrium phase transitions are described on the basis of modified Cahn-Hilliard equation. We consider the advancing fronts which combine these two transformations. Exact solutions are obtained and the conditions of their existence are discussed.\n\n[41]\nTitle: Tunable Flux through a Synthetic Hall Tube of Neutral Fermions\nSubjects: Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n\nHall tube with a tunable flux is an important geometry for studying quantum Hall physics, but its experimental realization in real space is still challenging. Here, we propose to realize a synthetic Hall tube with tunable flux in a one-dimensional optical lattice with the synthetic ring dimension defined by atomic hyperfine states. We investigate the effects of the flux on the system topology and study its quench dynamics. Utilizing the tunable flux, we show how to realize topological charge pumping. Finally, we show that the recently observed quench dynamics in a synthetic Hall tube can be explained by the random flux existing in the experiment.\n\n[42]\nTitle: Mirror-symmetry protected quantization of Berry phases and resulting magnetoresistance across the topological transition in Pb$_{1-x}$Sn$_{x}$Se\nComments: Main text: 7 pages, 3 figures; Supplementary materials: 13 pages, 8 figures\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nQuantization of geometrical phases accounts for phenomena, such as the Aharonov-Bohm effect and Bohr-Sommerfeld quantization of energy levels, which are hallmarks of quantum physics. It has more recently been realized that the quantized value of the Berry phase $\\varphi=\\pi$, if evaluated over a proper trajectory in the Brillouin zone, points to the presence of topological surface states. Similarly, positive magnetoresistance, resulting from weak antilocalization (WAL) when the spin-orbit diffusion length is much shorter than phase breaking length, is taken as evidence that the Berry phase evaluated along the Fermi cross section is quantized as $\\varphi=\\pi$. Here, we consider the case of cubic lead-tin monochalcogenides and demonstrate, both theoretically and experimentally, that the quantization of $\\varphi$ results from the crystalline mirror and time-reversal symmetries. We show that the observed magnetoresistance behaviour follows the theory prediction that Berry phase is quantized to $\\varphi=\\pi$ for both topologically trivial and non-trivial materials and becomes non-quantized by intentionally breaking the mirror symmetry with an additional amorphous layer.\n\n[43]\nTitle: Slow many-body delocalization beyond one dimension\nComments: 4+epsilon pages, 4 figures plus supplementary with 5 pages, 3 figures. Comments welcome\nSubjects: Disordered Systems and Neural Networks (cond-mat.dis-nn); Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nWe study the delocalization dynamics of interacting disordered hard-core bosons for quasi-1D and 2D geometries, with system sizes and time scales comparable to state-of-the-art experiments. The results are strikingly similar to the 1D case, with slow, subdiffusive dynamics featuring power-law decay. From the freezing of this decay we infer the critical disorder $W_c(L, d)$ as a function of length $L$ and width $d$. In the quasi-1D case $W_c$ has a finite large-$L$ limit at fixed $d$, which increases strongly with $d$. In the 2D case $W_c(L,L)$ grows with $L$. The results are consistent with the avalanche picture of the many-body localization transition.\n\n[44]\nTitle: Calculation of the biexciton shift in nanocrystals of inorganic perovskites\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nWe calculate the shift in emission frequency of the trion and biexciton (relative to that of the single exciton) for nanocrystals (NCs) of inorganic perovskites CsPbBr3 and CsPbI3. The calculations use an envelope-function k.p model combined with self-consistent Hartree-Fock and a treatment of the intercarrier correlation energy in the lowest (second) order of many-body perturbation theory. The carriers in the trion and biexciton are assumed to have relaxed nonradiatively to the ground state at the band edge before emission occurs. The theoretical trion shifts for both CsPbBr3 and CsPbI3 are found to be in fair agreement with available experimental data, which include low-temperature single-dot measurements, though are perhaps systematically small by a factor of order 1.5, which can plausibly be explained by a combination of a slightly overestimated dielectric constant and omitted third- and higher-order terms in the correlation energy. Taking this level of agreement into account, we estimate that the ground-state biexciton shift for CsPbBr3 is a redshift of order 10-20 meV for NCs with an edge-length of 12 nm. This value is intermediate among the numerous high-temperature measurements on NCs of CsPbBr3, which vary from large redshifts of order 100 meV to blueshifts of several meV.\n\n[45]\nTitle: Exchange-correlation potentials for multi-orbital quantum dots subject to generic density-density interactions and Hund's rule coupling\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nBy reverse-engineering from exact solutions we obtain Hartree-exchange-correlation (Hxc) potentials for a double quantum dot subject to generic density-density interactions and Hund's rule coupling. We find ubiquitous step structures of the Hxc potentials that can be understood and derived from an analysis of stability diagrams. We further show that a generic Hxc potential can be decomposed into four basic potentials which allows for a straight-forward parametrization and paves the road for the construction of Hxc potentials for interacting multi-orbital systems. Finally we employ our parametrization of the Hxc potential in density functional theory calculations of multi-orbital quantum dots and find excellent agreement with exact many-body calculations.\n\n[46]\nTitle: Nonequilibrium thermodynamics: emergent and fundamental\nAuthors: P. V\u00e1n\nComments: Editorial to the topical issue \"Fundamental Aspects of Nonequilibrium Thermodynamics\" in Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A; 8 pages, 1 figure\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nHow can we derive the evolution equations of dissipative systems? What is the relation between the different approaches? How much do we understand the fundamental aspects of a second law based framework? Is there a hierarchy of dissipative and ideal theories at all? How far can we reach with the new methods of nonequilibrium thermodynamics?\n\n[47]\nTitle: Green's functions for non-classical transport with general anisotropic scattering\nAuthors: Eugene d'Eon\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Nuclear Theory (nucl-th)\n\nIn non-classical linear transport the chord length distribution between collisions is non-exponential and attenuation does not respect Beer's law. Generalized radiative transfer (GRT) extends the classical theory to account for such two-point correlation between collisions and neglects all higher order correlations. For this form of transport, we derive the exact time-independent Green's functions for the isotropic point source in infinite 3D homogeneous media with general anisotropic scattering. Green's functions for both collision rate density, which characterizes absorption and reaction rates in the system, and radiance\/flux, which characterizes displacement of radiation\/particles, are solved in Fourier space. We validate the derivations using gamma random flights to produce the first anisotropic scattering benchmark solutions for the generalized linear Boltzmann equation. For gamma-4 flights with linearly anisotropic scattering and gamma-6 flights with Rayleigh scattering the collision rate density is found explicitly in real space as a sum of diffusion modes.\n\n[48]\nTitle: Statistical mechanics of a chiral active fluid\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nStatistical mechanics provides the foundation for describing complex materials using only a fewthermodynamic variables. No such framework currently exists far from equilibrium. In this Letter,we demonstrate how thermodynamics emerges far from equilibrium, using fluids composed of activespinners as a case study. Activity gives rise to a single effective temperature that parameterizesboth the equation of state and the emergent Boltzmann statistics. The same effective temperature,renormalized by velocity correlations, controls the linear response through canonical Green-Kuborelations for both the familiar shear viscosity and the odd (or Hall) viscosity observed in chiralfluids. The full frequency dependence of these viscosities can be derived analytically by modellingthe active-spinner fluid as a random walker undergoing cyclotron motion in shear-stress space. Moregenerally, we provide a first-principles derivation of the Green-Kubo relations valid for a broaderclass of fluids far from equilibrium. Besides advancing non-equilibrium thermodynamics, our workdemonstrates in silico a non-invasive microrheology of active fluids.\n\n[49]\nTitle: Large scale and linear scaling DFT with the CONQUEST code\nComments: 32 pages, 21 figures, submitted to J. Chem. Phys\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nWe survey the underlying theory behind the large-scale and linear scaling DFT code, Conquest, which shows excellent parallel scaling and can be applied to thousands of atoms with exact solutions, and millions of atoms with linear scaling. We give details of the representation of the density matrix and the approach to finding the electronic ground state, and discuss the implementation of molecular dynamics with linear scaling. We give an overview of the performance of the code, focussing in particular on the parallel scaling, and provide examples of recent developments and applications.\n\n[50]\nTitle: Mirror anomaly in fermionic topological orders\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nWe study general 2D fermionic topological orders enriched by the mirror symmetry with $\\mathcal{M}^2=1$. It is known that certain mirror symmetry enriched fermionic topological orders (mirror SETs) are anomalous, in the sense that they cannot be realized in strict two dimensions but have to live on the surface of 3D topological crystalline superconductors. Mirror anomaly, or equivalently 3D topological crystalline superconductors, has a $\\mathbb{Z}_{16}$ classification. In this work, we derive an explicit expression, namely an \\emph{anomaly indicator}, for the $\\mathbb{Z}_{16}$ mirror anomaly for general fermionic mirror SETs. This derivation is based on the recently developed folding approach, originally proposed for bosonic topological orders. We generalize it to fermion systems. Through this approach, we establish a direct bulk-boundary correspondence between surface fermionic topological orders and 3D bulk topological crystalline superconductors. In addition, during the derivation, we obtain some general properties of fermionic topological orders as well as a few constraints on properties of fermionic mirror SETs.\n\n[51]\nTitle: Probing local moments in nanographenes with electron tunneling spectroscopy\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nThe emergence of local moments in graphene zigzag edges, grain boundaries, vacancies and sp3 defects has been widely studied theoretically. However, conclusive experimental evidence is scarce. Recent progress in on-surface synthesis has made it possible to create nanographenes, such as triangulenes, with local moments in their ground states, and to probe them using scanning tunnelling microscope (STM) spectroscopy. Here we review the application of the theory of sequential and cotunneling transport to relate the dI\/dV spectra with the spin properties of nanographenes probed by STM. This approach permits us to connect the dI\/dV with the many-body energies and wavefunctions of the graphene nanostructures. We apply this method describing the electronic states of the nanographenes by means of exact diagonalization of the Hubbard model within a restricted Active Space. This permits us to provide a proper quantum description of the emergence of local moments in graphene and its interplay with transport. We discuss the results of this theory in the case of diradical nanographenes, such as triangulene, rectangular ribbons and the Clar goblet, that have been recently studied experimentally by means of STM spectroscopy. This approach permits us to calculate both the dI\/dV spectra, that yields excitation energies, as well as the atomically resolved conductivity maps, that provide information on the wavefunctions of the collective spin modes.\n\n[52]\nTitle: Anisotropic RKKY interactions mediated by $j=3\/2$ quasiparticles in half-Heusler topological semimetal\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. B 101, 075421 (2020)\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nWe theoretically explore the RKKY interaction mediated by spin-3\/2 quasiparticles in half-Heusler topological semimetals in quasi-two-dimensional geometries. We find that while the Kohn-Luttinger terms gives rise to generalized Heisenberg coupling of the form ${\\cal H}_{\\rm RKKY} \\propto {\\sigma}_{1,i} {\\cal I}_{ij} {\\sigma}_{2,j}$ with a symmetric matrix ${\\cal I}_{ij}$, addition of small antisymmetric linear spin-orbit coupling term leads to Dzyaloshinskii-Moriya (DM) coupling with an antisymmetric matrix ${\\cal I}'_{ij}$. We demonstrate that besides the oscillatory dependence on the distance, all coupling strengths strongly depend on the relative orientation of the two impurities with respect to the lattice. This yields a strongly anisotropic behavior for ${\\cal I}_{ij}$ such that by only rotating one impurity around another at a constant distance, we can see further oscillations of the RKKY couplings. This unprecedented effect is unique to our system which combines spin-orbit coupling with strongly anisotropic Fermi surfaces. We further find that all of the RKKY terms have two common features: a tetragonal warping in their map of spatial variations, and a complex beating pattern. Intriguingly, all these features survive in all dopings and we see them in both electron- and hole-doped cases. In addition, due to the lower dimensionality combined with the effects of different spin-orbit couplings, we see that only one symmetric off-diagonal term, ${\\cal I}_{xy}$ and two DM components ${\\cal I}'_{xz}$ and ${\\cal I}'_{yz}$ are nonvanishing, while the remaining three off-diagonal components are identically zero. This manifests another drastic difference of RKKY interaction in half-Heusler topological semimetals compared to the electronic systems with spin-1\/2 effective description.\n\n[53]\nTitle: Aspects of the Synthesis of Thin Film Superconducting Infinite-Layer Nickelates\nAuthors: Kyuho Lee (1 and 2), Berit H. Goodge (3), Danfeng Li (1 and 4), Motoki Osada (1 and 5), Bai Yang Wang (1 and 2), Yi Cui (1 and 5), Lena F. Kourkoutis (3 and 6), Harold Y. Hwang (1 and 4) ((1) Stanford Institute for Materials and Energy Sciences, SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory, Menlo Park, CA, USA, (2) Department of Physics, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA, (3) School of Applied and Engineering Physics, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY, USA, (4) Department of Applied Physics, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA, (5) Department of Materials Science and Engineering, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA, (6) Kavli Institute at Cornell for Nanoscale Science, Ithaca, NY, USA)\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con)\n\nThe recent observation of superconductivity in Nd$_{0.8}$Sr$_{0.2}$NiO$_{2}$ calls for further investigation and optimization of the synthesis of this metastable infinite-layer nickelate structure. Here, we present our current understanding of important aspects of the growth of the parent perovskite compound via pulsed laser deposition on SrTiO$_{3}$ (001) substrates, and the subsequent topotactic reduction. We find that to achieve single-crystalline, single-phase superconducting Nd$_{0.8}$Sr$_{0.2}$NiO$_{2}$, it is essential that the precursor perovskite Nd$_{0.8}$Sr$_{0.2}$NiO$_{3}$ thin film is stabilized with high crystallinity and no impurity phases; in particular, a Ruddlesden-Popper-type secondary phase is often observed. We have further investigated the evolution of the soft-chemistry topotactic reduction conditions to realize full transformation to the infinite-layer structure with no film decomposition or formation of other phases. We find that capping the nickelate film with a subsequent SrTiO$_{3}$ layer provides an epitaxial template to the top region of the nickelate film, much like the substrate. Thus, for currently optimized growth conditions, we can stabilize superconducting single-phase Nd$_{0.8}$Sr$_{0.2}$NiO$_{2}$ (001) epitaxial thin films up to ~ 10 nm.\n\n[54]\nTitle: Majorana-like localized spin density without bound states in topologically trivial spin-orbit coupled nanowires\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nIn the topological phase of spin-orbit coupled nanowires Majorana bound states are known to localize at the nanowire edges and to exhibit a spin density orthogonal to both the magnetic field and the spin-orbit field. By investigating a nanowire exposed to a uniform magnetic field with an interface between regions with different spin-orbit couplings, we find that the orthogonal spin density is pinned at the interface even when both interface sides are in the topologically trivial phase, and even when no bound state is present at all. A bound state may additionally appear at the interface, especially if the spin-orbit coupling takes opposite signs across the interface. However, it can be destroyed by a smoothening of the spin-orbit profile or by a magnetic field component parallel to the spin-orbit field. In contrast, the orthogonal spin density persists in various and realistic parameter ranges. We also show that, while the measurement of bulk equilibrium spin currents has been elusive so far, such robust orthogonal spin density peak may provide a way to detect spin current variations across interfaces.\n\n[55]\nTitle: Dynamic percolation of ferromagnetic regions in phase separated manganites using non-uniform electric fields\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nThin films of the manganite (La$_{1-y}$Pr$_y$)$_{1-x}$Ca$_x$MnO$_3$ exhibit dynamic phase coexistence with micrometer scale, fluid-like ferromagnetic metallic (FMM) regions interspersed in a charge-order insulating (COI) background. It has been previously reported that a uniform electric field realigns the fluid-like FMM regions due to a phenomenon similar to dielectrophoresis. Here we report that non-uniform electric fields have a stronger effect on the FMM regions as expected from the dielectrophoresis model. The dynamic percolation of the FMM regions is observed over a wider range of temperatures compared to the results in a uniform field. Additionally, in a non-uniform electric field, the time required for dynamic percolation along the magnetic hard axis ($t_{\\mathrm{B}}$) decreased with increasing applied voltage ($V_{\\mathrm{A}}$) as a power law, $V_{\\mathrm{A}}^{-\\delta}$ with $\\delta \\approx 5$ while $\\delta < 2$ for a uniform electric field. Our results in a non-uniform electric field provide strong evidence in favor of the dielectrophoresis model and a unique method for manipulating micrometer-sized ferromagnetic regions using electric fields.\n\n[56]\nTitle: Long-range rhombohedral-stacked graphene through shear\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nThe discovery of superconductivity and correlated electronic states in the flat bands of twisted bilayer graphene has raised a lot of excitement. Flat bands also occur in multilayer graphene flakes that present rhombohedral (ABC) stacking order on many consecutive layers. Although Bernal-stacked (AB) graphene is more stable, long-range ABC-ordered flakes involving up to 50 layers have been surprisingly observed in natural samples. Here we present a microscopic atomistic model, based on first-principles density functional theory calculations, that demonstrates how shear stress can produce long-range ABC order. A stress-angle phase diagram shows under which conditions ABC-stacked graphene can be obtained, providing an experimental guide for its synthesis.\n\n### Cross-lists for Wed, 19 Feb 20\n\n[57]\u00a0 arXiv:2001.09844 (cross-list from quant-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Quantum annealing with capacitive-shunted flux qubits\nComments: 12 pages, 3 figures (accepted in Japanese Journal of Applied Physics)\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nQuantum annealing (QA) provides us with a way to solve combinatorial optimization problems. In the previous demonstration of the QA, a superconducting flux qubit (FQ) was used. However, the flux qubits in these demonstrations have a short coherence time such as tens of nano seconds. For the purpose to utilize quantum properties, it is necessary to use another qubit with a better coherence time. Here, we propose to use a capacitive-shunted flux qubit (CSFQ) for the implementation of the QA. The CSFQ has a few order of magnitude better coherence time than the FQ used in the QA. We theoretically show that, although it is difficult to perform the conventional QA with the CSFQ due to the form and strength of the interaction between the CSFQs, a spin-lock based QA can be implemented with the CSFQ even with the current technology. Our results pave the way for the realization of the practical QA that exploits quantum advantage with long-lived qubits.\n\n[58]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07232 (cross-list from quant-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: How quantum evolution with memory is generated in a time-local way\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Mathematical Physics (math-ph)\n\nTwo widely used but distinct approaches to the dynamics of open quantum systems are the Nakajima-Zwanzig and time-convolutionless quantum master equation, respectively. Although both describe identical quantum evolutions with strong memory effects, the first uses a time-nonlocal memory kernel $\\mathcal{K}$, whereas the second achieves the same using a time-local generator $\\mathcal{G}$. Here we show that the two are connected by a simple yet general fixed-point relation: $\\mathcal{G} = \\hat{\\mathcal{K}}[\\mathcal{G}]$. This allows one to extract nontrivial relations between the two completely different ways of computing the time-evolution and combine their strengths. We first discuss the stationary generator, which enables a Markov approximation that is both nonperturbative and completely positive for a large class of evolutions. We show that this generator is not equal to the low-frequency limit of the memory kernel, but additionally \"samples\" it at nonzero characteristic frequencies. This clarifies the subtle roles of frequency dependence and semigroup factorization in existing Markov approximation strategies. Second, we prove that the fixed-point equation sums up the time-domain gradient \/ Moyal expansion for the time-nonlocal quantum master equation, providing nonperturbative insight into the generation of memory effects. Finally, we show that the fixed-point relation enables a direct iterative numerical computation of both the stationary and the transient generator from a given memory kernel. For the transient generator this produces non-semigroup approximations which are constrained to be both initially and asymptotically accurate at each iteration step.\n\n[59]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07273 (cross-list from physics.app-ph) [pdf]\nTitle: Thermal energy harvesting using pyroelectric-electrochemical coupling in ferroelectric materials\nSubjects: Applied Physics (physics.app-ph); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nRecently, the coupling of ferroelectrics with electrochemical reactions has attracted increasing interest for harvesting waste heat. The change of polarisation of a ferroelectric with temperature can be used to influence chemical reactions, especially when the material is cycled near its Curie temperature. In this perspective, we introduce the principle of pyroelectric controlled electrochemical processes by harvesting waste heat energy and explore their potential electrochemical applications, such as water treatment, air purificiation and hydrogen generation. As an emerging approach for driving electrochemical reactions, the presence of thermal fluctuations and\/or transient waste heat in the environment has the potential to be the primary thermal input for driving the change in polarisation of a pyroelectric to release charge for such reactions. There are a number of avenues to explore and we summarize strategies for forming multi-functional or hybrid materials and future directions such as selecting pyroelectrics with low Curie temperature (< 100 {\\deg}C), improved heat conductivity, enhanced surface area or porosity, tailored microstructures and systems capable of operating over a broader temperature range.\n\n[60]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07401 (cross-list from physics.comp-ph) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: TurboRVB: a many-body toolkit for {\\it ab initio} electronic simulations by quantum Monte Carlo\nComments: 41 pages, 21 figures, 3 tables\nSubjects: Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); Chemical Physics (physics.chem-ph)\n\nTurboRVB is a computational package for {\\it ab initio} Quantum Monte Carlo (QMC) simulations of both molecular and bulk electronic systems. The code implements two types of well established QMC algorithms: Variational Monte Carlo (VMC), and Diffusion Monte Carlo in its robust and efficient lattice regularized variant. A key feature of the code is the possibility of using strongly correlated many-body wave functions. The electronic wave function (WF) is obtained by applying a Jastrow factor, which takes into account dynamical correlations, to the most general mean-field ground state, written either as an antisymmetrized geminal product with spin-singlet pairing, or as a Pfaffian, including both singlet and triplet correlations. This wave function can be viewed as an efficient implementation of the so-called resonating valence bond (RVB) ansatz, first proposed by L. Pauling and P. W. Anderson in quantum chemistry and condensed matter physics, respectively. The RVB ansatz implemented in TurboRVB has a large variational freedom, including the Jastrow correlated Slater determinant as its simplest, but nontrivial case. Moreover, it has the remarkable advantage of remaining with an affordable computational cost, proportional to the one spent for the evaluation of a single Slater determinant. The code implements the adjoint algorithmic differentiation that enables a very efficient evaluation of energy derivatives, comprising the ionic forces. Thus, one can perform structural optimizations and molecular dynamics in the canonical NVT ensemble at the VMC level. For the electronic part, a full WF optimization is made possible thanks to state-of-the-art stochastic algorithms for energy minimization. The code has been efficiently parallelized by using a hybrid MPI-OpenMP protocol, that is also an ideal environment for exploiting the computational power of modern GPU accelerators.\n\n[61]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07459 (cross-list from math.NA) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Inversion symmetry of singular values and a new orbital ordering method in tensor train approximations for quantum chemistry\nSubjects: Numerical Analysis (math.NA); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nThe tensor train approximation of electronic wave functions lies at the core of the QC-DMRG (Quantum Chemistry Density Matrix Renormalization Group) method, a recent state-of-the-art method for numerically solving the $N$-electron Schr\\\"odinger equation. It is well known that the accuracy of TT approximations is governed by the tail of the associated singular values, which in turn strongly depends on the ordering of the one-body basis.\nHere we find that the singular values $s_1\\ge s_2\\ge ... \\ge s_d$ of tensors representing ground states of noninteracting Hamiltonians possess a surprising inversion symmetry, $s_1s_d=s_2s_{d-1}=s_3s_{d-2}=...$, thus reducing the tail behaviour to a single hidden invariant, which moreover depends explicitly on the ordering of the basis. For correlated wavefunctions, we find that the tail is upper bounded by a suitable superposition of the invariants. Optimizing the invariants or their superposition thus provides a new ordering scheme for QC-DMRG. Numerical tests on simple examples, i.e. linear combinations of a few Slater determinants, show that the new scheme reduces the tail of the singular values by several orders of magnitudes over existing methods, including the widely used Fiedler order.\n\n[62]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07513 (cross-list from math.AP) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Coarse graining of a Fokker-Planck equation with excluded volume effects preserving the gradient-flow structure\nSubjects: Analysis of PDEs (math.AP); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Optimization and Control (math.OC)\n\nThe propagation of gradient flow structures from microscopic to macroscopic models is a topic of high current interest. In this paper we discuss this propagation in a model for the diffusion of particles interacting via hard-core exclusion or short-range repulsive potentials. We formulate the microscopic model as a high-dimensional gradient flow in the Wasserstein metric for an appropriate free-energy functional. Then we use the JKO approach to identify the asymptotics of the metric and the free-energy functional beyond the lowest order for single particle densities in the limit of small particle volumes by matched asymptotic expansions. While we use a propagation of chaos assumption at far distances, we consider correlations at small distance in the expansion. In this way we obtain a clear picture of the emergence of a macroscopic gradient structure incorporating corrections in the free energy functional due to the volume exclusion.\n\n[63]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07547 (cross-list from physics.comp-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Proton Transport Entropy Increase In Amorphous SiO$_2$\nAuthors: Randall T. Swimm\nSubjects: Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Applied Physics (physics.app-ph)\n\nThis paper presents a classical thermodynamic calculation of a Greens function that describes the declining rate of entropy growth as protons move under an applied electric field, through an amorphous SiO$_2$ layer in a MOS field-effect device gate oxide. The analysis builds on work by McLean and Ausman (1977) and Brown and Saks (1991). Polynomial models of fitting parameters dB\/d$\\alpha$, y$_0$, and A\/y$_0$ based on interpolation TABLE I of McLean and Ausman are presented. Infinite boundary conditions are introduced for the parameter dB\/d$\\alpha$. Polynomial representations are shown of dB\/d$\\alpha$, y$_0$, A\/y$_0$ and the Greens function as a function of the dispersion parameter $\\alpha$. The paper shows that parameters y$_0$ and A\/y$_0$ are nearly conic sections with small residuals of a few percent. This work is intended as a first step toward a near-equilibrium thermodynamic continuous-time random walk (CTRW) model (anomalous diffusion) of damage introduced into thick-oxide silicon-based powerMOS parts by space radiation effects such as those found in the Jovian radiation belts. Charge transport in amorphous silica electrical insulators is by thermally activated tunneling, not Brownian motion.\n\n[64]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07578 (cross-list from hep-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: String monopoles, string walls, vortex-skyrmions and nexus objects in polar distorted B-phase of $^3$He\nSubjects: High Energy Physics - Phenomenology (hep-ph); Disordered Systems and Neural Networks (cond-mat.dis-nn); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con)\n\nThe composite cosmological objects -- Kibble-Lazarides-Shafi (KLS) walls bounded by strings and cosmic strings terminated by Nambu monopoles -- could be produced during the phase transitions in the early Universe. Recent experiments in superfluid $^3$He reproduced the formation of the KLS domain walls, which opened the new arena for the detailed study of those objects in human controlled system with different characteristic lengths. These composite defects are formed by two successive symmetry breaking phase transitions. In the first transition the strings are formed, then in the second transition the string becomes the termination line of the KLS wall. In the same manner, in the first transition monopoles are formed, and then in the second transition these monopoles become the termination points of strings. Here we show that in the vicinity of the second transition the composite defects can be described by relative homotopy groups. This is because there are two well separated length scales involved, which give rise to two different classes of the degenerate vacuum states, $R_1$ and $R_2$, and the composite objects correspond to the nontrivial elements of the group $\\pi_n(R_1,R_2)$. We discuss this on example of the so-called polar distorted B phase, which is formed in the two-step phase transition in liquid $^3$He distorted by aerogel. In this system the string monopoles terminate spin vortices with even winding number, while KLS string walls terminate on half quantum vortices. In the presence of magnetic field, vortex-skyrmions are formed, and the string monopole transforms to the nexus. We also discuss the integer-valued topological invariants of those objects. Our consideration can be applied to the composite defects in other condensed matter and cosmological systems.\n\n[65]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07614 (cross-list from physics.geo-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: The physics of sediment transport initiation, cessation, and entrainment across aeolian and fluvial environments\nSubjects: Geophysics (physics.geo-ph); Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft); Atmospheric and Oceanic Physics (physics.ao-ph); Fluid Dynamics (physics.flu-dyn)\n\nPredicting the morphodynamics of sedimentary landscapes due to fluvial and aeolian flows requires answering the following questions: Is the flow strong enough to initiate sediment transport, is the flow strong enough to sustain sediment transport once initiated, and how much sediment is transported by the flow in the saturated state (i.e., what is the transport capacity)? In the geomorphological and related literature, the widespread consensus has been that the initiation, cessation, and capacity of fluvial transport, and the initiation of aeolian transport, are controlled by fluid entrainment of bed sediment caused by flow forces overcoming local resisting forces, whereas aeolian transport cessation and capacity are controlled by impact entrainment caused by the impacts of transported particles with the bed. Here the physics of sediment transport initiation, cessation, and capacity is reviewed with emphasis on recent consensus-challenging developments in sediment transport experiments, two-phase flow modeling, and the incorporation of granular physics' concepts. Highlighted are the similarities between dense granular flows and sediment transport, such as a superslow granular motion known as creeping (which occurs for arbitrarily weak driving flows) and system-spanning force networks that resist bed sediment entrainment; the roles of the magnitude and duration of turbulent fluctuation events in fluid entrainment; the traditionally overlooked role of particle-bed impacts in triggering entrainment events in fluvial transport; and the common physical underpinning of transport thresholds across aeolian and fluvial environments. This sheds a new light on the well-known Shields diagram, where measurements of fluid entrainment thresholds could actually correspond to entrainment-independent cessation thresholds.\n\n[66]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07620 (cross-list from physics.hist-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Crossing borders in the 19th century and now -- two examples of weaving a scientific network\nSubjects: History and Philosophy of Physics (physics.hist-ph); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nScientific research is and was at all times a transnational activity. In this respect it crosses several borders: national, cultural, and ideological. Even in times when physical borders separated the scientific community, scientists kept their minds open and tried to communicate despite all obstacles. An example of such activities in the field of physics is the travel in the year 1838 of a group of three scientists through the Western Europe: Andreas Ettingshausen (professor at the University of Vienna), August Kunzek (professor at the University of Lviv) and P. Marian Koller (director of the observatory in Chremsminster, Upper Austria).\n$155$ years later a vivid scientific exchange between physicists from Austria and Ukraine and in particular between the Institute for Condensed Matter Physics of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine in Lviv and the Institute for Theoretical Physics of Johannes Kepler University Linz began. This became possible due to programs financed by national institutions, but it had its scientific background in already knotted historic scientific networks, when Lviv was an international center of mathematics and in Vienna the School of Statistical Thought' arose.\nIn this paper, we discuss the above examples of scientific cooperation pursuing several goals: to record less known facts from the history of science in a general culturological context, to trace the rise of studies that resulted, with a span of time, in an emergence of statistical and condensed matter physics, to follow development of multilayer networking structures that join scientists and enable their research. It is our pleasure to submit this paper to the Festschrift devoted to the 60th birthday of a renowned physicist, our good colleague and friend Ihor Mryglod. In fact, his activities contributed a lot into strengthening the networks we describe in this paper.\n\n[67]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07700 (cross-list from quant-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Exactly Thermalised Quantum Dynamics of the Spin-Boson Model coupled to a Dissipative Environment\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n\nWe present an application of the Extended Stochastic Liouville-von Neumann equations (ESLN) method introduced earlier [PRB 95, 125124 (2017); PRB 97, 224310 (2018)] which describes the dynamics of an exactly thermalised open quantum system reduced density matrix coupled to a non-Markovian harmonic environment. Critically, the combined system of the open system fully coupled to its environment is thermalised at finite temperature using an imaginary time evolution procedure before the application of real time evolution. This initialises the combined system in the correct canonical equilibrium state rather than being initially decoupled. We apply our theory to the spin-boson Hamiltonian and develop a number of competing ESLN variants designed to reduce the numerical divergence of the trace of the open system density matrix. We find that a careful choice of the driving noises is essential for improving numerical stability. We also investigate the effect of applying higher order numerical schemes for solving stochastic differential equations, such as the Stratonovich-Heun scheme, and conclude that stochastic sampling dominates convergence with the improvement associated with the numerical scheme being less important for short times but required for late times. To verify the method and its numerical implementation, we consider evolution under a fixed Hamiltonian and show that the system either remains in, or approaches, the correct canonical equilibrium state at long times. Additionally, evolution of the open system under non-equilibrium Landau-Zener (LZ) driving is considered and the asymptotic convergence to the LZ limit was observed for vanishing system-environment coupling and temperature. When coupling and temperature are non-zero, initially thermalising the combined system at a finite time in the past was found to be a better approximation of the true LZ initial state than a pure state.\n\n[68]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07706 (cross-list from physics.ins-det) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Characterization of High-Purity Germanium (Ge) Crystals for Developing Novel Ge Detectors\nComments: 11 page, 4 figures, and 6 Tables\nSubjects: Instrumentation and Detectors (physics.ins-det); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); High Energy Physics - Experiment (hep-ex); Nuclear Experiment (nucl-ex)\n\nHigh-purity germanium (HPGe) crystals are required to be well-characterized before being fabricated into Ge detectors. The characterization of HPGe crystals is often performed with the Hall Effect system, which measures the carrier concentration, the Hall mobility, and the electrical resistivity. The reported values have a strong dependence on the size of the ohmic contacts and the geometry of the samples used in conducting the Hall Effect measurements. We conduct a systematic study using four samples cut from the same location in a HPGe crystal made into different sized ohmic contacts or different geometries to study the variation of the measured parameters from the Hall Effect system. The results are compared to the C-V measurements provided by the Ge detector made from the same crystal. We report the systematic errors involved with the Hall Effect system and find a reliable technique that minimizes the systematic error to be only a few percent from the Hall Effect measurements.\n\n[69]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07712 (cross-list from cs.ET) [pdf]\nTitle: In-materio neuromimetic devices: Dynamics, information processing and pattern recognition\nSubjects: Emerging Technologies (cs.ET); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n\nThe story of information processing is a story of great success. Todays' microprocessors are devices of unprecedented complexity and MOSFET transistors are considered as the most widely produced artifact in the history of mankind. The current miniaturization of electronic circuits is pushed almost to the physical limit and begins to suffer from various parasitic effects. These facts stimulate intense research on neuromimetic devices. This feature article is devoted to various in materio implementation of neuromimetic processes, including neuronal dynamics, synaptic plasticity, and higher-level signal and information processing, along with more sophisticated implementations, including signal processing, speech recognition and data security. Due to vast number of papers in the field, only a subjective selection of topics is presented in this review.\n\n[70]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07718 (cross-list from quant-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Hardware-Encoding Grid States in a Non-Reciprocal Superconducting Circuit\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n\nWe present a circuit design composed of a non-reciprocal device and Josephson junctions whose ground space is doubly degenerate and the ground states are approximate codewords of the Gottesman-Kitaev-Preskill (GKP) code. We determine the low-energy dynamics of the circuit by working out the equivalence of this system to the problem of a single electron confined in a two-dimensional plane and under the effect of strong magnetic field and of a periodic potential. We find that the circuit is naturally protected against the common noise channels in superconducting circuits, such as charge and flux noise, implying that it can be used for passive quantum error correction. We also propose realistic design parameters for an experimental realization and we describe possible protocols to perform logical one- and two-qubit gates, state preparation and readout.\n\n[71]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07730 (cross-list from quant-ph) [pdf, other]\nTitle: What limits the simulation of quantum computers?\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n\nIt is well established that simulating a perfect quantum computer with a classical computer requires computing resources that scale exponentially with the number of qubits $N$ or the depth $D$ of the circuit. Conversely, a perfect quantum computer could potentially provide an exponential speed up with respect to classical hardware. Real quantum computers however are not perfect: they are characterized by a small error rate $\\epsilon$ per operation, so that the fidelity of the many-qubit quantum state decays exponentially as ${\\cal{F}} \\sim (1-\\epsilon)^{ND}$. Here, we discuss a set of classical algorithms based on matrix product states (MPS) which closely mimic the behavior of actual quantum computers. These algorithms require resources that scale linearly in $N$ and $D$ at the cost of making a small error $\\epsilon$ per two-qubit gate. We illustrate our algorithms with simulations of random circuits for qubits connected in both one and two dimensional lattices. We find that $\\epsilon$ can be decreased at a polynomial cost in computing power down to a minimum error $\\epsilon_\\infty$. Getting below $\\epsilon_\\infty$ requires computing resources that increase exponentially with $\\epsilon_\\infty\/\\epsilon$. For a two dimensional array of $N=54$ qubits and a circuit with Control-Z gates of depth $D=20$, a fidelity ${\\cal F}\\ge 0.002$ can be reached on a single core computer in a few hours. It is remarkable that such a high fidelity can be obtained using a variational ansatz that only spans a tiny fraction $(\\sim 10^{-8})$ of the full Hilbert space. Our results show how the actual computing power harvested by noisy quantum computers is controlled by the error rate $\\epsilon$.\n\n[72]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07760 (cross-list from math.PR) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Determinantal Point Processes, Stochastic Log-Gases, and Beyond\nAuthors: Makoto Katori\nComments: LaTeX 77 pages, no figure. This manuscript has been prepared for the mini course given at `Workshop on Probability and Stochastic Processes' held at Orange County, Coorg, India, from 23rd to 26th February, 2020, which is organized by the Indian Academy of Sciences, Bangalore\nSubjects: Probability (math.PR); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Mathematical Physics (math-ph); Exactly Solvable and Integrable Systems (nlin.SI)\n\nA determinantal point process (DPP) is an ensemble of random nonnegative-integer-valued Radon measures, whose correlation functions are all given by determinants specified by an integral kernel called the correlation kernel. First we show our new scheme of DPPs in which a notion of partial isometies between a pair of Hilbert spaces plays an important role. Many examples of DPPs in one-, two-, and higher-dimensional spaces are demonstrated, where several types of weak convergence from finite DPPs to infinite DPPs are given. Dynamical extensions of DPP are realized in one-dimensional systems of diffusive particles conditioned never to collide with each other. They are regarded as one-dimensional stochastic log-gases, or the two-dimensional Coulomb gases confined in one-dimensional spaces. In the second section, we consider such interacting particle systems in one dimension. We introduce a notion of determinantal martingale and prove that, if the system has determinantal martingale representation (DMR), then it is a determinantal stochastic process (DSP) in the sense that all spatio-temporal correlation function are expressed by a determinant. In the last section, we construct processes of Gaussian free fields (GFFs) on simply connected proper subdomains of ${\\mathbb{C}}$ coupled with interacting particle systems defined on boundaries of the domains. There we use multiple Schramm--Loewner evolutions (SLEs) driven by the interacting particle systems. We prove that, if the driving processes are time-changes of the log-gases studied in the second section, then the obtained GFF with multiple SLEs are stationary. The stationarity defines an equivalence relation of GFFs, which will be regarded as a generalization of the imaginary surface studied by Miller and Sheffield.\n\n### Replacements for Wed, 19 Feb 20\n\n[73]\u00a0 arXiv:1201.1429 (replaced) [pdf]\nTitle: Capacity Fade due to Side-reactions in Silicon Anodes in Lithium-ion Batteries\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n[74]\u00a0 arXiv:1806.08706 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Quantum computing cryptography: Finding cryptographic Boolean functions with quantum annealing by a 2000 qubit D-wave quantum computer\nJournal-ref: Phys. Lett. A 384, 126214 (2020)\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Cryptography and Security (cs.CR); Emerging Technologies (cs.ET)\n[75]\u00a0 arXiv:1902.07998 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Statistical theory of photon gas in plasma\nAuthors: Peter Mati\nComments: 15 pages; v2: added references, corrected typos; v3: matches JSTAT version: J. Stat. Mech. (2020) 023102\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas); Plasma Physics (physics.plasm-ph)\n[76]\u00a0 arXiv:1902.10980 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Generalized ballistic-conductive heat conduction in isotropic materials\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Pattern Formation and Solitons (nlin.PS)\n[77]\u00a0 arXiv:1903.05798 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Spin-Orbital-Intertwined Nematic State in FeSe\nComments: 11 pages, 5 figures, supplementary information available upon request\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. X 10,011034 (2020)\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n[78]\u00a0 arXiv:1904.11846 (replaced) [pdf]\nTitle: Nanoscale magnetophotonics\nSubjects: Applied Physics (physics.app-ph); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Optics (physics.optics)\n[79]\u00a0 arXiv:1905.08328 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Improved Description of Perovskite Oxide Crystal Structure and Electronic Properties using Self-Consistent Hubbard $U$ Corrections from the ACBN0 Functional\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n[80]\u00a0 arXiv:1907.07720 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Observing the 3D chemical bond and its energy distribution in a projected space\nComments: 17 pages, 19 figures, accepted in ChemPhysChem on Oct 7, 2019\nJournal-ref: ChemPhysChem, 20, 3289-3305, 2019\nSubjects: Chemical Physics (physics.chem-ph); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n[81]\u00a0 arXiv:1907.10934 (replaced) [pdf]\nTitle: Soft Granular Particles Sheared at Controlled Volumes: Flow Curves and Multiple Relaxations\nSubjects: Soft Condensed Matter (cond-mat.soft)\n[82]\u00a0 arXiv:1907.11140 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Splitting of antiferromagnetic resonance modes in the quasi-two-dimensional collinear antiferromagnet Cu(en)(H$_2$O)$_2$SO$_4$\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. B 101, 014414 (2020)\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n[83]\u00a0 arXiv:1908.04858 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Deep material network with cohesive layers: Multi-stage training and interfacial failure analysis\nAuthors: Zeliang Liu\nComments: 26 pages, 14 figures, 4 tables\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Computational Engineering, Finance, and Science (cs.CE); Machine Learning (cs.LG); Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph)\n[84]\u00a0 arXiv:1908.07310 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Beyond mean-field corrections to the quasiparticle spectrum of superfluid Fermi gases\nSubjects: Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas)\n[85]\u00a0 arXiv:1909.02048 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Mixed spectra and partially extended states in a two-dimensional quasiperiodic model\nComments: 10 pages, 8 figures, published version\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. B 101, 014205 (2020)\nSubjects: Disordered Systems and Neural Networks (cond-mat.dis-nn); Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas); Atomic Physics (physics.atom-ph); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n[86]\u00a0 arXiv:1909.02714 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Time-dependent Ginzburg-Landau treatment of RF Magnetic Vortices in Superconductors: Vortex-Semiloops in a Spatially Nonuniform Magnetic Field\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con); Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph)\n[87]\u00a0 arXiv:1909.02841 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Front dynamics in the XY chain after local excitations\nComments: 28 pages, 8 figures, minor changes\nSubjects: Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n[88]\u00a0 arXiv:1910.05969 (replaced) [pdf]\nTitle: Electronic bandstructure of in-plane ferroelectric van der Waals $\u03b2 '-In_{2}Se_{3}$\nComments: 19 pages, 4 + 1 figures; typos corrected;added references; updated figures & discussion to reflect changes in model\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n[89]\u00a0 arXiv:1910.06631 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Experimental conditions for observation of electron-hole superfluidity in GaAs heterostructures\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con)\n[90]\u00a0 arXiv:1910.08456 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: A linear combination of atomic orbitals (LCAO) model for deterministically placed acceptor arrays in silicon\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. B 101, 085303 (2020)\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n[91]\u00a0 arXiv:1910.13412 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Evidence for topological surface states in amorphous Bi$_{2}$Se$_{3}$\nComments: 40 pages (21 main + 19 supplemental), 15 figures (4 main + 11 supplemental)\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n[92]\u00a0 arXiv:1910.13687 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Transverse-Field Ising Dynamics in a Rydberg-Dressed Atomic Gas\nJournal-ref: Phys. Rev. Lett. 124, 063601 (2020)\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas)\n[93]\u00a0 arXiv:1911.01436 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Chiral flat band superconductivity from symmetry-protected three-band crossings\nAuthors: Yu-Ping Lin\nComments: 9 pages, 3 figures. v2: Minor edition. Added superfluid stiffness calculation\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n[94]\u00a0 arXiv:1911.02916 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Coupled transport of phonons and carriers in semiconductors: A case study of n-doped GaAs\nJournal-ref: Physical Review B 101.7 (2020): 075202\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph)\n[95]\u00a0 arXiv:1911.02940 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Splitting of two-component solitary waves from collisions with narrow potential barriers\nSubjects: Pattern Formation and Solitons (nlin.PS); Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas)\n[96]\u00a0 arXiv:1911.11413 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Non-Hermitian Floquet Chains as Topological Charge Pumps\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n[97]\u00a0 arXiv:1912.02782 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Emergent discrete 3-form symmetry and domain walls\nComments: v1: 6 pages; v2: 7 pages, title changed, major results unchanged, references added; v3: 7 pages, published version\nJournal-ref: Phys. Lett. B 803 (2020) 135290\nSubjects: High Energy Physics - Theory (hep-th); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n[98]\u00a0 arXiv:1912.06209 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Theoretical Analysis of Metallic-Nanodimer Thermoplasmonics for Phototactic Nanoswimmers\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n[99]\u00a0 arXiv:1912.08822 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Deconfined critical point in a doped random quantum Heisenberg magnet\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); High Energy Physics - Theory (hep-th)\n[100]\u00a0 arXiv:1912.09220 (replaced) [pdf]\nTitle: Limits on gas impermeability of graphene\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci)\n[101]\u00a0 arXiv:1912.11650 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Field-Orientation Effect on Ferro-Quadrupole Order in PrTi2Al20\nComments: 5 pages, 5 figures (main text) + 4 pages, 2 figures (supplemental material), accepted for publication in J. Phys. Soc. Jpn\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n[102]\u00a0 arXiv:2001.07696 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Charging by thermalization\nSubjects: Quantum Physics (quant-ph); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech)\n[103]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.00154 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Isotropically conducting (hidden) quantum Hall stripe phases in a two-dimensional electron gas\nSubjects: Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n[104]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.04656 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Pseudogap Anderson impurity model out of equilibrium: A master equation tensor network approach\nSubjects: Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall); Other Condensed Matter (cond-mat.other); Quantum Physics (quant-ph)\n[105]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.06088 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Phase Diagram of Solitons in the Polar Phase of a Spin-1 Bose-Einstein Condensate\nSubjects: Quantum Gases (cond-mat.quant-gas)\n[106]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.06167 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Tuning the electronic structure and magnetoresistance in a semi-metallic system by dimensional confinement\nComments: 7 pages, 4 figures, Supplementary Information 8 pages, 10 figures\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n[107]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.06385 (replaced) [pdf, ps, other]\nTitle: Orientation of point nodes and non-unitary triplet pairing tuned by the easy-axis magnetization in UTe2\nComments: 5 pages, 4 figures (main text) + 6 pages, 4 figures (Supplementary Material); figure numbers corrected in this version\nSubjects: Superconductivity (cond-mat.supr-con); Strongly Correlated Electrons (cond-mat.str-el)\n[108]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.06859 (replaced) [pdf]\nTitle: Formation and manipulation of domain walls with 2-nm domain periodicity in $BaTiO_3$ without contact electrodes\nSubjects: Materials Science (cond-mat.mtrl-sci); Mesoscale and Nanoscale Physics (cond-mat.mes-hall)\n[109]\u00a0 arXiv:2002.07109 (replaced) [pdf, other]\nTitle: Velocity jump processes : an alternative to multi-timestep methods for faster and accurate molecular dynamics simulations\nSubjects: Chemical Physics (physics.chem-ph); Statistical Mechanics (cond-mat.stat-mech); Computational Physics (physics.comp-ph)\n[ total of 109 entries: 1-109 ]\n[ showing up to 2000 entries per page: fewer | more ]\n\nDisable MathJax (What is MathJax?)\n\nLinks to: arXiv, form interface, find, cond-mat, recent, 2002, contact, help\u00a0 (Access key information)","date":"2020-02-19 01:58:49","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.6717674732208252, \"perplexity\": 2016.6701119246816}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2020-10\/segments\/1581875143963.79\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20200219000604-20200219030604-00212.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
{"url":"http:\/\/aimsciences.org\/article\/doi\/10.3934\/dcdsb.2010.14.251","text":"# American Institute of Mathematical Sciences\n\nJuly\u00a0 2010,\u00a014(1):\u00a0251-274. doi:\u00a010.3934\/dcdsb.2010.14.251\n\n## Symmetrical solutions of backward stochastic Volterra integral equations and their applications\n\n 1 Institute for Financial Studies and School of Mathematics, Shandong University, Jinan 250100, China 2 School of Mathematics, Shandong University, Jinan 250100, China\n\nReceived\u00a0 September 2009 Revised\u00a0 March 2010 Published\u00a0 April 2010\n\nBackward stochastic Volterra integral equations (BSVIEs in short) are studied. We introduce the notion of adapted symmetrical solutions (S-solutions in short), which are different from the M-solutions introduced by Yong [16]. We also give some new results for them. At last a class of dynamic coherent risk measures were derived via certain BSVIEs.\nCitation: Tianxiao Wang, Yufeng Shi. Symmetrical solutions of backward stochastic Volterra integral equations and their applications. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - B, 2010, 14 (1) : 251-274. doi: 10.3934\/dcdsb.2010.14.251\n [1] Yufeng Shi, Tianxiao Wang, Jiongmin Yong. Mean-field backward stochastic Volterra integral equations. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - B, 2013, 18 (7) : 1929-1967. doi: 10.3934\/dcdsb.2013.18.1929 [2] Yufeng Shi, Tianxiao Wang, Jiongmin Yong. Optimal control problems of forward-backward stochastic Volterra integral equations. Mathematical Control & Related Fields, 2015, 5 (3) : 613-649. doi: 10.3934\/mcrf.2015.5.613 [3] M. R. Arias, R. Ben\u00edtez. Properties of solutions for nonlinear Volterra integral equations. Conference Publications, 2003, 2003 (Special) : 42-47. doi: 10.3934\/proc.2003.2003.42 [4] Shaokuan Chen, Shanjian Tang. Semi-linear backward stochastic integral partial differential equations driven by a Brownian motion and a Poisson point process. Mathematical Control & Related Fields, 2015, 5 (3) : 401-434. doi: 10.3934\/mcrf.2015.5.401 [5] Dajana Conte, Raffaele D'Ambrosio, Beatrice Paternoster. On the stability of $\\vartheta$-methods for stochastic Volterra integral equations. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - B, 2018, 23 (7) : 2695-2708. doi: 10.3934\/dcdsb.2018087 [6] Giuseppe Da Prato. An integral inequality for the invariant measure of some finite dimensional stochastic differential equation. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - B, 2016, 21 (9) : 3015-3027. doi: 10.3934\/dcdsb.2016085 [7] Dariusz Borkowski. Forward and backward filtering based on backward stochastic differential equations. Inverse Problems & Imaging, 2016, 10 (2) : 305-325. doi: 10.3934\/ipi.2016002 [8] Jasmina Djordjevi\u0107, Svetlana Jankovi\u0107. Reflected backward stochastic differential equations with perturbations. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - A, 2018, 38 (4) : 1833-1848. doi: 10.3934\/dcds.2018075 [9] Jan A. Van Casteren. On backward stochastic differential equations in infinite dimensions. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - S, 2013, 6 (3) : 803-824. doi: 10.3934\/dcdss.2013.6.803 [10] Boling Guo, Guoli Zhou. On the backward uniqueness of the stochastic primitive equations with additive noise. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - B, 2019, 24 (7) : 3157-3174. doi: 10.3934\/dcdsb.2018305 [11] Onur Alp \u0130lhan. Solvability of some volterra type integral equations in hilbert space. Conference Publications, 2007, 2007 (Special) : 28-34. doi: 10.3934\/proc.2007.2007.28 [12] Z. K. Eshkuvatov, M. Kammuji, Bachok M. Taib, N. M. A. Nik Long. Effective approximation method for solving linear Fredholm-Volterra integral equations. Numerical Algebra, Control & Optimization, 2017, 7 (1) : 77-88. doi: 10.3934\/naco.2017004 [13] Anna Karczewska, Carlos Lizama. On stochastic fractional Volterra equations in Hilbert space. Conference Publications, 2007, 2007 (Special) : 541-550. doi: 10.3934\/proc.2007.2007.541 [14] Ying Hu, Shanjian Tang. Switching game of backward stochastic differential equations and associated system of obliquely reflected backward stochastic differential equations. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - A, 2015, 35 (11) : 5447-5465. doi: 10.3934\/dcds.2015.35.5447 [15] Xin Chen, Ana Bela Cruzeiro. Stochastic geodesics and forward-backward stochastic differential equations on Lie groups. Conference Publications, 2013, 2013 (special) : 115-121. doi: 10.3934\/proc.2013.2013.115 [16] Wenxiong Chen, Congming Li. Regularity of solutions for a system of integral equations. Communications on Pure & Applied Analysis, 2005, 4 (1) : 1-8. doi: 10.3934\/cpaa.2005.4.1 [17] Patricia J.Y. Wong. Existence of solutions to singular integral equations. Conference Publications, 2009, 2009 (Special) : 818-827. doi: 10.3934\/proc.2009.2009.818 [18] Monia Karouf. Reflected solutions of backward doubly SDEs driven by Brownian motion and Poisson random measure. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - A, 2019, 39 (10) : 5571-5601. doi: 10.3934\/dcds.2019245 [19] Qi Zhang, Huaizhong Zhao. Backward doubly stochastic differential equations with polynomial growth coefficients. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - A, 2015, 35 (11) : 5285-5315. doi: 10.3934\/dcds.2015.35.5285 [20] Yufeng Shi, Qingfeng Zhu. A Kneser-type theorem for backward doubly stochastic differential equations. Discrete & Continuous Dynamical Systems - B, 2010, 14 (4) : 1565-1579. doi: 10.3934\/dcdsb.2010.14.1565\n\n2018\u00a0Impact Factor:\u00a01.008\n\n## Metrics\n\n\u2022 PDF downloads\u00a0(4)\n\u2022 HTML views\u00a0(0)\n\u2022 Cited by\u00a0(8)\n\n## Other articlesby authors\n\n\u2022 on AIMS\n\u2022 on Google Scholar\n\n[Back to Top]","date":"2019-09-15 22:21:30","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.5350294709205627, \"perplexity\": 4166.944644094091}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": false}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2019-39\/segments\/1568514572436.52\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20190915215643-20190916001643-00049.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
RPA & The United Nations of Sound es el título del cuarto disco de Richard Ashcroft. En esta ocasión, el título hace referencia a los nuevos integrantes de la banda de Ashcroft, que tocan con él (The United Nations of Sound): Steve Wyreman (guitarra), Dwayne "DW" Wright (bajo), además de Rico Petrillo (piano y teclados), Qyu Jackson (batería y percusión) y Derrick Wright (batería y percusión - en estudio). Ashcroft reclutó a estos músicos en 2010, poco después de la separación definitiva de The Verve, en agosto del 2009.
El cuarto álbum salió a la venta el 19 de julio de 2010, con el promo-sencillo "Are You Ready?" y el primer sencillo "Born Again" (lanzados el 18 de enero y el 19 de julio, respectivamente), además de otras 10 nuevas canciones (haciendo un total de 12). El disco había sido producido por No I.D., quién antes había trabajado con el rapero estadounidense Jay-Z, entre otros. El álbum no ha tenido mucho éxito, al igual que los sencillos lanzados, ya que las críticas fueron generalmente negativas, aunque debutó como número 20 en los charts de Reino Unido, pero cayendo la semana siguiente al número 59.
The United Nations of Sound (2010) #20 (RU)
El disco fue lanzado en Estados Unidos a principios de 2011, donde Ashcroft dio una serie de conciertos.
Curiosidades
Are you ready?
La canción "Are you ready?" emplea un sample de la canción "On time" de los Bee Gees.
Esta canción fue usada en la final de la Copa del mundo de fútbol y también el canal FOX de televisión empleó dicho tema para algunos partidos del mundial de baloncesto.
La marca de coches Volkswagen, escogió la canción "Are you ready?" para su nuevo anuncio de televisión, Volkswagen Jetta.
"Are you ready?" sonará en los créditos finales de la nueva película (que se estrenará en los cines en 2011) de Matt Damon, "Destino oculto" (The Adjustment Bureau).
She brings me the music
"She brings me the music" apareció como banda sonora de la serie 'Chuck' del canal de televisión NBC.
Born Again
Otra curiosidad es que la canción "Born Again" en el videoclip, cuenta con un nuevo efecto de sonido que no fue incluido en la versión del disco. Dicho efecto empieza a escucharse en el tiempo 0:52 hasta 3:19 aproximadamente.
Referencias
Enlaces externos
http://www.richardashcroft.co.uk/
http://www.richardashcroftonline.com/
Álbumes de Richard Ashcroft
Grupos de música formados en 2010 | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 500 |
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SUMMARY: NESTED | <A HREF="#fields_inherited_from_class_java.io.ByteArrayInputStream">FIELD</A> | <A HREF="#constructor_summary">CONSTR</A> | <A HREF="#method_summary">METHOD</A></FONT></TD>
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javax.jmdns.impl</FONT>
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Class DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</H2>
<PRE>
java.lang.Object
<IMG SRC="../../../resources/inherit.gif" ALT="extended by ">java.io.InputStream
<IMG SRC="../../../resources/inherit.gif" ALT="extended by ">java.io.ByteArrayInputStream
<IMG SRC="../../../resources/inherit.gif" ALT="extended by "><B>javax.jmdns.impl.DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</B>
</PRE>
<DL>
<DT><B>All Implemented Interfaces:</B> <DD>java.io.Closeable</DD>
</DL>
<DL>
<DT><B>Enclosing class:</B><DD><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.html" title="class in javax.jmdns.impl">DNSIncoming</A></DD>
</DL>
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<DT><PRE>public static class <B>DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</B><DT>extends java.io.ByteArrayInputStream</DL>
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<TH ALIGN="left"><B>Fields inherited from class java.io.ByteArrayInputStream</B></TH>
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<TD><CODE>buf, count, mark, pos</CODE></TD>
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<!-- ======== CONSTRUCTOR SUMMARY ======== -->
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<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream(byte[], int)">DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</A></B>(byte[] buffer,
int length)</CODE>
<BR>
</TD>
</TR>
<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream(byte[], int, int)">DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</A></B>(byte[] buffer,
int offset,
int length)</CODE>
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<CODE>protected int</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#peek()">peek</A></B>()</CODE>
<BR>
</TD>
</TR>
<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="1%"><FONT SIZE="-1">
<CODE> int</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readByte()">readByte</A></B>()</CODE>
<BR>
</TD>
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<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="1%"><FONT SIZE="-1">
<CODE> byte[]</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readBytes(int)">readBytes</A></B>(int len)</CODE>
<BR>
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<CODE> int</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readInt()">readInt</A></B>()</CODE>
<BR>
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<CODE> java.lang.String</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readName()">readName</A></B>()</CODE>
<BR>
</TD>
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<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
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<CODE> java.lang.String</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readNonNameString()">readNonNameString</A></B>()</CODE>
<BR>
</TD>
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<CODE> int</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readUnsignedShort()">readUnsignedShort</A></B>()</CODE>
<BR>
</TD>
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<CODE> java.lang.String</CODE></FONT></TD>
<TD><CODE><B><A HREF="../../../javax/jmdns/impl/DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream.html#readUTF(int)">readUTF</A></B>(int len)</CODE>
<BR>
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<TH ALIGN="left"><B>Methods inherited from class java.io.ByteArrayInputStream</B></TH>
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<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
<TD><CODE>available, close, mark, markSupported, read, read, reset, skip</CODE></TD>
</TR>
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<A NAME="methods_inherited_from_class_java.io.InputStream"><!-- --></A>
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<TH ALIGN="left"><B>Methods inherited from class java.io.InputStream</B></TH>
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<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
<TD><CODE>read</CODE></TD>
</TR>
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<A NAME="methods_inherited_from_class_java.lang.Object"><!-- --></A>
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<TH ALIGN="left"><B>Methods inherited from class java.lang.Object</B></TH>
</TR>
<TR BGCOLOR="white" CLASS="TableRowColor">
<TD><CODE>clone, equals, finalize, getClass, hashCode, notify, notifyAll, toString, wait, wait, wait</CODE></TD>
</TR>
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<!-- ========= CONSTRUCTOR DETAIL ======== -->
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<B>Constructor Detail</B></FONT></TH>
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<A NAME="DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream(byte[], int)"><!-- --></A><H3>
DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</H3>
<PRE>
public <B>DNSIncoming.MessageInputStream</B>(byte[] buffer,
int length)</PRE>
<DL>
</DL>
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| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 2,478 |
Murat () is a commune in the Cantal department in the Auvergne region in south-central France. On 1 January 2017, the former commune of Chastel-sur-Murat was merged into Murat. Murat is the administrative seat of this new commune.
History
On 24 June 1944, during World War II, 120 Muratais were deported, 80 never returned.
The French people from Murat were deported via Compiègne to the Neuengamme concentration camp and most of them had to work in the subcamp (in German: Außenlager) Farge concentration camp. At begin of June, 2012 a monument in the Memorial wood on the gardening area of former concentration camp was established: It was donated by the city of Murat, to remember what happened in Murat and to commemorate the deported and murdered inhabitants. The columns of basalt remember July 1944 when the Maquisards from Murat, Cantal were deported and afterwards murdered in the Neuengamme concentration camp and its affiliates. In total 75 men out of 103 died in the concentration camp.
Geography
Location
Murat is situated on the eastern edge of the Mounts of Cantal, in the valley of the Alagnon, a tributary of the Allier, which was the principal route for crossing the Massif Central. It is surrounded by three basalt outcrops, the vestiges of former volcanoes, the Rocher de Bredons, where there is a priory church dating from the 12th century, the rocher de Bonnevie, where there is an 8-metre high statue of the Virgin Mary known as Notre-Dame de la Haute-Auvergne, and the Rocher de Chastel, where the 12th century chapel of St Antoine stands. A market is held every Friday.
Population
Administration
Mayor (maire in French) of the municipal council:
Personalities
Olivier Magne
Raymond Leopold Bruckberger, writer
Henri de Castellane, politician. His grandson was Paul Ernest Boniface de Castellane who married Anna Gould
See also
Communes of the Cantal department
References
External links
Volcano park of Auvergne on the UNEP-WCMC site
Albepierre-Bredons
Communes of Cantal
Auvergne
Cantal communes articles needing translation from French Wikipedia | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 5,034 |
\section{Introduction}
When studying properties of a class of groups, constructing actions on topological spaces can give us important and often essential information.
Many types of groups are defined in this way.
One such example is Kropholler's
class of hierarchically defined ${\sl H}\mathcal{F}$-groups. This class is defined inductively by cellular actions on finite dimensional
contractible CW-complexes (see Section 2 or \cite {krop}). It turns out to be a very large class,
containing all countable elementary amenable groups, all countable linear groups, and all groups with finite virtual cohomological dimension.
In section 2, we use similar but more general construction to define new, action-induced, nested classes of groups as follows.
\begin{defn}{\label{sc:01}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {X}$ be a class of groups. Suppose $\mathcal {P}$ is a condition on a space.
Let $\mathcal {A}$ be a restriction on the action of a group $G$
that acts on a space with property $\mathcal {P}$ such that the induced action of each subgroup of $G$ on this space
also has the same restriction.
We define $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ to be the smallest class of groups containing $\mathcal {X}$
with the property that if a group $G$ acts by $\mathcal {A}$ on a space with property $\mathcal {P}$ such that all its isotropy groups are in $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$, then $G$ is also in $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$.}
\end{defn}
There is also hierarchical definition of $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$-groups, by using ordinal
numbers (see Section 2). We have that a group is in $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ if and only if it belongs to $\mathcal {N}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ for some
ordinal $\alpha$.
It is worth pointing out that although, we restrict ourselves to only cellular actions on finite dimensional CW-complexes, the definition allows one to consider many other types of actions, such as for example, algebraic actions on varieties, isometric actions on metric spaces, actions on manifolds and Lie groups, just to name a few.
To fix some notation, when $\mathcal {P} \subset \{X| X \mbox{ is a finite dimensional CW-complex}\}$ and
$\mathcal {A}$ defines the action to be cellular, we denote $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ by $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {X})$ and when $\mathcal {X}$ contains only the trivial group, by $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P})$.
In section 3, we obtain the following descriptions for some well-known classes.
\begin{itemize}
\medskip
\item Let $\mathcal {P}_1 = \{S^1\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_1)$ is the class of finite solvable groups.
\medskip
\item Let $\mathcal {P}_2 = \{\mathbb T^m| m\in \mathbb N\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2) = \mathcal {N}_1^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2)$ is the class of finite groups.
\medskip
\item Let $\mathcal {P}_{3} = \{S^m| m\in \mathbb N\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_{3})$ is the class of finite groups.
\medskip
\item Let $\mathcal {P}_4 = \{S^1, \mathbb R\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_4)$ is the class of polycyclic groups.
\medskip
\item Let $\mathcal {P}_5 = \{S^m, \mathbb R | m\in \mathbb N\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_5)$ is the class of virtually polycyclic groups.
\end{itemize}
In 1980, Olshanski disproved the Baer Conjecture by constructing a non-virtually polycyclic, namely simple and torsion-free, Noetherian group (see \cite{ol}). In the next theorem, we prove that a large class of groups closed under countable directed unions, HNN-extension and amalgamated products has a Tits alternative-like property and satisfies Baer criterion.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:07}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_6 = \{X| X=S^m, m\in \mathbb N, \mbox{ or } X \mbox{ is a locally finite tree}\}$.
Then $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ contains all countable elementary amenable groups and all countable locally free groups. Every group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ either contains a free subgroup on two generators or it is countable elementary amenable. In particular, every Noetherian group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ is virtually polycyclic.}
\end{thm}
Next, we construct a class of groups, denoted by $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_R)$, which contains all ${\sl H}\mathcal{F}$-groups and it is the largest of all the classes we consider. It is defined by the following property.
\begin{defn}{\label{sc:08}}{\normalfont Suppose $R$ is an integral domain of characteristic zero. We say that a CW-complex $X$ belongs to $\mathcal {P}_R$
whenever there exist $k\geq 0$ and $m>0$ (both depending on $X$) such that
\begin{enumerate}[(a)]
\item $H_i(X)$ is $R$-torsion-free torsion group for each $i> k$,
\smallskip
\item $H_{k}(X)=\mathbb Z^m\oplus F$, where $F$ is an $R$-torsion-free finite group.
\end{enumerate}}
\end{defn}
These are a quite natural conditions on a CW-complex. For instance, when $R=\mathbb Q$, CW-complexes that have finitely generated homology groups, such as finitely dominated ones, satisfy both conditions.
In general, the subclass $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P})$ consists of groups that can act freely and cellularly on a finite dimensional CW-complex with property $\mathcal {P}$. So, it is quite easy to describe $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_i, \mathcal {X})$, $1\leq i\leq 6$. By a theorem of Adem-Smith (see \ref{sc:3.14}),
every group with periodic cohomology acts freely and cellularly on a finite dimension CW-complex homotopy equivalent to a sphere. It follows then that every such group is in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$. In the last section, we show that all groups in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$ have jump cohomology over $R$.
In Section 4, we recall the definition of jump (co)homology and prove it has properties similar to virtual (co)homological dimension of a group.
\begin{defn}{\label{sc:09}}{\normalfont Let $R$ be a commutative ring with a unit. A discrete group $G$ has
{\it jump (co)homology over $R$} if there exists an
integer $k\geq 0$, such that for each subgroup $H$ of $G$ we have
$hd_R(H)=\infty$ ($cd_R(H)=\infty$) or $hd_R(H)\leq k$
($cd_R(H)\leq k$). The minimum of all such $k$ will
be called {\it jump height} and denoted $hjh_R(G)$ ($cjh_R(G)$). }
\end{defn}
Since a group can have infinite torsion and still have jump (co)homology, many properties of virtual cohomological dimension
that hold for only virtually torsion-free groups extend naturally.
For instance, in Proposition \ref{sc:3.1}, we show that a group has jump (co)homology of height zero
if and only if it is all torsion. In Theorem \ref{sc:3.9}, we prove that a finitely generated solvable group $G$ has finite
Hirsch length if and only if it has jump homology. In Theorem \ref{sc:3.12}, using a theorem of Alperin-Shalen, we prove that a linear group has jump homology if and only if there is an upper bound on the Hirsch lengths of its finitely generated unipotent subgroups.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:015}}{\normalfont
Let $\mathcal{J_R}$ be the class of groups with jump cohomology over $R$
and let $\mathcal{VCD}$ denote the class of groups with finite virtual cohomological dimension.
Then, $$\mathcal{VCD}\subseteq \mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)\subseteq \mathcal{J_R}.$$}
\end{thm}
Lastly, as an application of the results in sections 4 and 5, we obtain the following
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:016}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a solvable group and let $X$ be a finite dimensional
$G$-CW-complex. Suppose there exists an integer $t$ such that $\displaystyle{\bigoplus_{i\geq t} H_i(X)}$ is finitely generated and infinite.
Then $G$ has finite Hirsch length if and only if there is an upper bound on the Hirsch lengths of all the stabilizer subgroups.}
\end{thm}
\section{The class of $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$-groups}
In \cite{krop}, Kropholler considered a fascinating class of hierarchically defined groups which he denoted by ${\sl H}\mathcal{X}$.
Let $\mathcal{X}$ be a class of groups. ${\sl
H}\mathcal{X}$ can be defined as the smallest class of groups containing
$\mathcal{X}$ with the property that if group $G$ acts cellularly on a
finite dimensional contractible CW-complex with all stabilizer
subgroups in ${\sl H}\mathcal{X}$, then $G$ is in ${\sl
H}\mathcal{X}$.
Let $\mathcal F$ denote the class of finite groups. In \cite{krop}, many properties of ${\sl H}\mathcal{F}$-groups, such as
subgroup and extension closure, closure under countable direct
unions and free product, were established.
We will use a similar construction to define classes of groups inductively by their actions on topological spaces with a specified underlying
property.
\begin{defn}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {X}$ be a class of groups. Suppose $\mathcal {P}$ is a condition on a space.
Let $\mathcal {A}$ be a restriction on the action of a group $G$
that acts on a space with property $\mathcal {P}$ such that the induced action of each subgroup of $G$ on this space
also has the same restriction.
We define $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ to be the smallest class of groups containing $\mathcal {X}$
with the property that if a group $G$ acts by $\mathcal {A}$ on a space with property $\mathcal {P}$ such that all its isotropy groups are in $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$, then $G$ is also in $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$.}
\end{defn}
\begin{remk}{\normalfont The condition that $X$ satisfies a given property $\mathcal {P}$ is equivalent to requiring that it belongs to a chosen set $\mathcal {P}$ of topological spaces.}
\end{remk}
If $\mathcal {X}$ is the class of finite groups, $\mathcal {P}=\{X| X \mbox{ is a finite dimensional contractible CW-complex}\}$, and $\mathcal {A}$ states that
the action is cellular, then the class $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ is exactly the class of ${\sl H}{\mathcal F}$-groups.
As with ${\sl H}{\mathcal F}$-groups, there exists an inductive definition of $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$-groups, using ordinal
numbers as follows:
\begin{enumerate}[(a)]
\item Let $\mathcal {N}_0(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})=\mathcal {X}$.
\smallskip
\item For ordinal $\beta >0$, define $\mathcal {N}_{\beta}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ to be the class of groups
that can act by $\mathcal {A}$ on a space $X\in \mathcal {P}$
such that each isotropy group is in $\mathcal {N}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ for some $\alpha < \beta$ ($\alpha$
can depend on the isotropy group).
\end{enumerate}
\smallskip
Clearly, a group is in $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ if and only if it is in $\mathcal {N}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ for some $\alpha$.
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:1}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {X}$ be a subgroup closed class of groups. Then $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ is subgroup closed.
In addition, if $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})\mathcal {X} = \mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$, then $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ is also extension closed.}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof} We will only prove extension closure. The proof for subgroup closure is similar and straightforward.
Suppose we have a short exact sequence of groups $$1\rightarrow K\longrightarrow G \longrightarrow Q\rightarrow 1,$$ such that $K\in \mathcal {N}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$
and $Q\in \mathcal {N}_{\beta}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$. We will use transfinite induction on the ordinal $\beta$ to show that $G\in \mathcal {N}_{\alpha + \beta}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$.
We start with $\beta=0$ as the trivial case. Suppose $\beta>0$ and assume that for each $\gamma < \beta$, if
$Q\in \mathcal {N}_{\gamma}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$, then $G\in \mathcal {N}_{\alpha + \gamma}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$. By definition, $Q$ acts on a space $X\in \mathcal {P}$
such that each isotropy subgroup is in $\mathcal {N}_{\theta}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ for some $\theta < \beta$. Using the given epimorphism of $G$ onto $Q$,
we can construct an induced action of $G$ on $X$. The isotropy subgroups of this action are extensions of $K$ by the isotropy subgroups
of $Q$. By induction, each of these groups is in $\mathcal {N}_{\alpha + \theta}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ for some $\theta < \beta$.
This shows that $G\in \mathcal {N}_{\alpha + \beta}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$, as claimed.
\end{proof}
The hypothesis of the lemma are clearly satisfied if we take $\mathcal {X}$ as the class containing only the trivial group.
In this case, we denote $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ by $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A})$. Another class of groups
that satisfies these hypothesis is ${\sl H}\mathcal{F}$ (see 2.2 of \cite{krop}).
There is a natural partial ordering on the set of triples $(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ defining
$\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$-classes.
\begin{defn}{\normalfont Let $(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ and $(\mathcal {P}', \mathcal {A}', \mathcal {X}')$ be the triples defining
the groups $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})$ and $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}', \mathcal {A}', \mathcal {X}')$, respectively. We say $(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})\leq (\mathcal {P}', \mathcal {A}', \mathcal {X}')$,
if $\mathcal {P}\subseteq \mathcal {P}'$, every action with restriction $\mathcal {A}$ also has restriction $\mathcal {A}'$,
and $\mathcal {X}\subseteq \mathcal {X}'$.}
\end{defn}
\noindent Clearly, when $(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})\leq (\mathcal {P}', \mathcal {A}', \mathcal {X}')$, then $\mathcal {N}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})\subseteq \mathcal {N}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}', \mathcal {A}', \mathcal {X}')$
for each ordinal $\alpha$ and $\mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {A}, \mathcal {X})\subseteq \mathcal {N}(\mathcal {P}', \mathcal {A}', \mathcal {X}')$.
\medskip
\section{Cellular Actions}
We will assume throughout that whenever a group acts cellularly on a CW-complex,
then the action of the stabilizer group of any cell fixes that cell pointwise.
In this section, we consider classes defined using cellular actions on finite dimensional CW-complexes,
$\mathcal {P} \subset \{X| X \mbox{ is a finite dimensional CW-complex}\}$ and
$\mathcal {A}$ defines the action to be cellular. We denote this class by $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}, \mathcal {X})$ and when $\mathcal {X}$ is trivial, by $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P})$.
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:2}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_1 = \{S^1\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_1)$ is the class of finite solvable groups.}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof} First, we will show that the class of finite solvable groups is in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_1)$.
Suppose $G$ is a finite solvable group. We proceed by induction on the length $n$ of the given decomposition
of $G$ into cyclic factors.
Let $H$ be a normal subgroup of length $n-1$. Since $G/H$ acts freely and
cellularly on $S^1$, from extension closure, we have
that $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_1)$.
Conversely, suppose $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_1)$. By transfinite induction, we can assume that $G$ acts cellularly on a
circle such that each stabilizer subgroup is finite solvable. The following
easy lemma finishes the proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:3}} {\normalfont A group $G$ acts effectively and cellularly on $S^1$ if and only if
it is a subgroup of a dihedral group.}
\end{lem}
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:4}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_2 = \{\mathbb T^m| m\in \mathbb N\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2) = \mathcal {N}_1^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2)$ is the class of finite groups.}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof} We will show that the class of finite groups is inside $\mathcal {N}_1^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2)$, i.e. any finite group acts freely on a torus.
Suppose $G$ is a finite group. Let $g\in G$ and let $H=\langle g \rangle$. Construct a free and cellular
action of $H$ on $S^1$.
Let $X_g=\mbox{Map}_{H}(G, S^1)$ be the set of $H$-equivariant
set maps from $G$ to $S^1$ where $H$ acts on $G$ by left translation. Let $g_1, g_2, \dots , g_n$ be coset representatives of $G/H$. There exists a bijection
$$\phi : X_g\rightarrow \prod_{i=1}^n S^1,$$
given by evaluating a map in $X_g$ at $g_i$ for each $1\leq i\leq n$. We now give $X_g$ the topology and CW-structure
coming from the product on the right hand side via the bijection $\phi$.
This structure is independent of the coset representatives. We define the action of $G$ on $X_g$
by $(x_0 f)(x)=f(xx_0)$ for $f\in X_g$, $x_0, x\in G$. Since $H$ acts freely on $X$,
the intersection of each stabilizer group of the action of $G$ on $X_g$ with $H$ is trivial.
Let $X= \prod_{g\in G} X_g$. Then $G$ act freely on $X$, because any stabilizer subgroup
is the intersection of the stabilizer subgroups of the actions of $G$ on $X_g$ for all $g\in G$.
It is left to show that any group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2)$ is finite. But if $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_2)$,
again using transfinite induction, it follows that $G$ acts cellularly on a torus
with all stabilizer subgroups finite. Hence, it is finite.
\end{proof}
We note that the property $\mathcal {P}_2$ in the theorem can be weakened.
We can instead consider finite CW-complexes homotopy equivalent to a tori. The same
conclusion will still hold.
Our next result shows that the class of finite groups can also be obtained by replacing tori with spheres.
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:6}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_{3} = \{S^m| m\in \mathbb N\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_{3})$ is the class of finite groups.}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof} By induction on the ordinals, it follows that any group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_{3})$ is finite.
In the following lemma, we will show that a group $G$ of order $n$ acts on $S^{n-2}$ without fixed points. Illman's
theorem would then shows that $S^{n-2}$ has a $G$-invariant triangulation, and therefore a $G$-CW-complex structure (see \cite{illman}). By induction
on the order of the group, we can immediately conclude that $G$ is in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_{3})$.
\end{proof}
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:7}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a finite group. Then $G$ acts isometrically on $S^{|G|-2}$ without fixed points.}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof}Let $n=|G|$ and consider the group ring $\mathbb RG$. Define $$V= \{\sum^n_{i=1} x_i g_i | \sum^n_{i=1} x_i=0\}.$$ Then
$V$ is a hyperplane of dimension $n-1$. The space of vectors in $V$ of unit length is then a sphere $S^{n-2}$. Note that $G$ acts
isometrically on $V$ and hence on $S^{n-2}$. The resulting action is fixed-point-free.
\end{proof}
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:8}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_4 = \{S^1, \mathbb R\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_4)$ is the class of polycyclic groups.}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof}
By extension closure, it follows that $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_4)$ contains all polycyclic group.
For the converse, suppose $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_4)$. Then $G$ acts cellularly on $S^1$ or $\mathbb R$ such that each stabilizer subgroup is polycyclic.
If $G$ acts on $S^1$, then by Lemma \ref{sc:3}, it follows that $G$ is polycyclic. If $G$ acts on $\mathbb R$, the next lemma finishes the proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:9}}{\normalfont A group $G$ acts effectively and cellularly on $\mathbb R$ if and only if
$G$ is a subgroup of an infinite dihedral group.}
\end{lem}
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:10}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_5 = \{S^m, \mathbb R | m\in \mathbb N\}$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_5)$ is the class of virtually polycyclic groups.}
\end{thm}
\begin{proof} Since $\{\mathcal {P}_{3}, \mathcal {P}_4\}\leq \mathcal {P}_5$,
we have $\{\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_{3}), \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_4)\}\subseteq \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_5)$. Then, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_5)$ contains all finite, all polycyclic, and
hence all virtually polycyclic groups.
Conversely, suppose $G\in \mathcal {N}_{\beta}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_5)$ for some ordinal $\alpha > 0$. Proceeding by transfinite induction, we can assume that
$G$ acts cellularly on $S^n$ for some $n\geq 1$ or on $\mathbb R$ with all stabilizer subgroups virtually polycyclic. Without loss of generality,
we can assume that the action is effective. Then, Lemma \ref{sc:9} finishes the proof.
\end{proof}
In our next theorem, we prove that there is a large class of groups which is closed under
countable direct unions, HNN-extensions, and amalgamated products such that virtually polycyclic groups are the only groups inside this class
that are Noetherian.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:11}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal {P}_6 = \{X| X=S^m, m\in \mathbb N, \mbox{ or } X \mbox{ is a locally finite tree}\}$.
Then $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ contains all countable elementary amenable groups and all countable locally free groups. Every group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$
either contains a free subgroup on two generators or it is countable elementary amenable. In particular, every Noetherian group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ is virtually polycyclic.}
\end{thm}
\begin{proof}
Since $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ contains all finite and all finitely generated abelian groups, Lemma \ref{sc:13} shows that
it also contains all countable elementary amenable groups and all countable locally free groups.
Now, we suppose $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_6, \mathcal {X})$ for some ordinal $\alpha > 0$, does not contain a free subgroup on two generators.
We will show that $G$ is countable elementary amenable.
By transfinite induction, we can assume that $G$ acts cellularly on a CW-complex $X$, a sphere or a locally finite tree, where
all stabilizer subgroups are countable elementary amenable.
Suppose $X$ is a sphere. Let $v$ be a $0$-cell of $X$. Clearly, $G/G_v$ is finite and hence, $G$ is countable elementary amenable.
Let $X$ be a locally finite tree. We can assume that the action of $G$ on $X$ is effective.
Since $G$ does not contain a free group on two generators, by a theorem of Pays and Valette (see \cite{PV}), $G$ either fixes a vertex, an edge, an end, or pair of ends. If $G$ fixes a vertex or an edge, then $G$ is countable elementary amenable by induction. If $G$ fixes a pair of ends then there exists a subgroup of index at most two fixing one of the two ends. Therefore, it is left to prove the case where $G$ fixes an end.
Suppose $\omega$ is an end fixed by $G$. Then for any $g\in G$ and a ray $r\in \omega$,
$gr\in \omega$.
We recall a homomorphism $f:G \to \mathbb Z$ defined by $$f(g)= d(gx, x_0) - d (x,x_0),$$ where $x_0$ is a fixed vertex on a ray $r$ of $\omega$ and $x$ is a point on $r$ between $x_0$ and infinity such that $gx$ is also on $r$. One can easily check that the definition is independent of the choice of $x_0$ and $x$.
Let $K$ be the kernel of $f$. It is left to show that $K$ is countable elementary amenable. Let $r\in \omega$ and let $x_i$, $i\in \mathbb N$, be vertices of $r$ such that $x_{i+1}$ is between $x_i$ and infinity for each $i$. Let $$K_i=\{g\in K| g(x_j)=x_j, \mbox{ for each } j\geq i\}.$$ We have that for each $i$, $K_i$ is a group and $K_i\leq K_{i+1}$. It follows that $K= \cup_{i\in \mathbb N} K_i$. As $K_i$ is a subgroup of $G_{x_i}$ for each $i\in \mathbb N$, it is countable elementary amenable. Therefore, $K$ is countable elementary amenable.
\end{proof}
Next, we define a class with the most general property $\mathcal {P}$ amongst all classes of groups
we have considered thus far.
\begin{defn}{\label{sc:12}}{\normalfont Suppose $R$ is an integral domain of characteristic zero. We say that a CW-complex $X$ belongs to $\mathcal {P}_R$
whenever there exist $k\geq 0$ and $m>0$ (both depending on $X$) such that
\begin{enumerate}[(a)]
\item $H_i(X)$ is $R$-torsion-free torsion group for each $i> k$,
\smallskip
\item $H_{k}(X)=\mathbb Z^m\oplus F$, where $F$ is an $R$-torsion-free finite group.
\end{enumerate}}
\end{defn}
\smallskip
We point out that when $R=\mathbb Q$, complexes that have finitely generated homology groups, such as finitely dominated CW-complexes, satisfy these conditions. As we shall see in the last section, all groups in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$ will have jump cohomology over $R$.
Next, we make several observations.
\begin{remk}{\normalfont Since $\mathcal {P}_1\leq \{\mathcal {P}_2, \mathcal {P}_3, \mathcal {P}_4\}$ and $\{\mathcal {P}_3, \mathcal {P}_4\}\leq \mathcal {P}_5\leq \mathcal {P}_6\leq \mathcal {P}_R$, for
each ordinal $\alpha$
we have $$\mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_1)\leq \{\mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_2), \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_3), \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_4)\}$$ and $$\{\mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_3), \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_4)\}\leq \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_5)\leq \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_6)\leq \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\alpha}(\mathcal {P}_R).$$}
\end{remk}
\begin{remk}{\normalfont Since $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_R)$ contains all finite groups and any finite dimensional
contractible complex is in $\mathcal {P}_R$, $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_R)$ contains the class of $\sl H{\mathcal F}$-groups. }
\end{remk}
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:13}}{\normalfont $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ and $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_R)$ are closed under countable directed unions,
amalgamated products, and HNN-extensions.}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof} Let $\mathcal{C}$ denote either $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_6)$ or $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_R)$.
Any group that is either a countable directed union, an
amalgamated product, or HNN-extension of groups in $\mathcal{C}$ is a fundamental group of a graph of groups with
vertex groups in $\mathcal{C}$. Let $G$ be such a group for a graph of groups $Y$. Let $X$ be the universal covering tree of $Y$. Then $X$ is a 1-dimensional contractible $G$-CW-complex
such that each stabilizer subgroup is in $\mathcal{C}$. It follows that $G\in \mathcal{C}$.
\end{proof}
The following result shows that a property similar to $\mathcal {P}_R$ induces the class of finite groups.
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:14}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal B$ be the set of CW-complexes where
$X\in \mathcal B$ if and only if there exists $m\in \mathbb N$ (depending on $X$) such that
$H_k(X)= \mathbb Z^m$, $k=\mbox{dim}(X)$. Then $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal B)=\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal B)$
is the class of finite groups.}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof} $\mathcal {P}_2\leq \mathcal B$ implies $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_2)\subseteq \mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal B)$.
Conversely, we use induction on the ordinals to show that every group in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\beta}(\mathcal B)$ is finite for each $\beta$.
Let $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}_{\beta}(\mathcal B)$. Then $G$ acts on $X$ with property $\mathcal B$ such that for each cell $\sigma$
there exists an ordinal $\alpha < \beta$ such that the stabilizer subgroup $G_{\sigma}$ is finite.
The following lemma finishes the proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{lem} {\label{sc:15}}{\normalfont Suppose $X$ is an $n$-dimensional $G$-CW-complex with $H_n(X)=\mathbb Z^m\oplus F$ for some positive integer $m$
and a finite group $F$ such that each stabilizer subgroup is finite. Then, $F=0$ and $G$ is finite.}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof} Suppose $F\ne 0$. Then, there exists a cycle $\tau\in Z_n(X)=H_n(X)$ such that $[\tau]\in F$, $[\tau]\ne 0$. Since $|F|\cdot\tau=0$,
we have $\tau=0$ which is a contradiction.
For each $1\leq i \leq m$, let $$\tau_i = \displaystyle{\sum_{j={i_1}}^{i_{p_i}} k_{ij} \sigma_{ij}}$$ be a generator of the $i$th-factor of $Z_n(X)=\mathbb Z^m$,
where each $k_{ij}$ is a positive integer and $\sigma_{ij}$ is an $n$-cells of $X$.
Consider the subspace $Y$ of $X$ formed by the $n$-cells defining these cycles, $$Y=\displaystyle{\bigcup_{1\leq i \leq m, 1\leq j \leq {p_i}} \sigma_{ij}}.$$ The action of $G$ on $X$ induces an action on $Z_n(X)=\mathbb Z^m$. Therefore, $G$ acts on $Y$ by permuting the $n$-cells.
Since the stabilizers are finite, this implies that $G$ must also be finite.
\end{proof}
\section{Jump (Co)homology}
In \cite{nans}, we considered a new (co)homological condition for groups
called jump (co)homology. In this section, we take a closer look at
groups with this property.
\begin{defn}{\normalfont Let $R$ be a commutative ring with a unit. A discrete group $G$ has
{\it jump (co)homology over $R$} if there exists an
integer $k\geq 0$, such that for each subgroup $H$ of $G$ we have
$hd_R(H)=\infty$ ($cd_R(H)=\infty$) or $hd_R(H)\leq k$
($cd_R(H)\leq k$). The smallest of all such $k$ will
be called {\it jump height} and denoted $hjh_R(G)$ ($cjh_R(G)$). }
\end{defn}
\begin{remk}{\normalfont When $R=\mathbb Z$, we will simply say that $G$ has jump (co)homology with jump height $hjh(G)$ ($cjh(G)$).}
\end{remk}
It follows directly that if a group $G$ has finite virtual (co)homological
dimension over $R$, then it must have jump (co)homology of height $vhd_R(G)$ ($vcd_R(G)$) over $R$.
The converse is clearly not true, as it is evident from the example of the group $\mathbb Q/\mathbb Z$. This is an infinite
torsion group which has jump (co)homology of height zero, but it does not have finite virtual
(co)homological dimension.
In the next proposition, we show that groups with jump (co)homology satisfy relations similar to
those of groups with finite (co)homological dimension. Whenever the proofs of homological and cohomological
parts are analogous, we only prove one and omit the proof of the other.
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:3.1}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a group and let $R$ be a commutative ring with a unit.
\begin{enumerate}
\item If $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$, then every subgroup $S<G$
has jump (co)homology over $R$ with $hjh_R(S)\leq hjh_R(G)$ ($cjh_R(S)\leq cjh_R(G)$).
\vspace{1mm}
\item If $G$ has jump (co)homology of height zero over $R$, then $G$ is a torsion group. Conversely,
if $G$ is an $R$-torsion group, then $G$ has jump (co)homology of height zero over $R$.
\vspace{1mm}
\item If $G$ has jump cohomology over $R$, then $G$ has jump homology over $R$ and $hjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(G)$. If $G$ is countable, then
$G$ has jump cohomology over $R$ if and only if $G$ has jump homology over $R$ and $hjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(G)\leq hjh_R(G)+1$.
\end{enumerate}}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof}
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(1):} By definition, jump cohomology is a subgroup closed property.
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(2):}
The first part of the claim follows from the fact that an infinite cyclic group has (co)homological dimension one over $R$.
Now, let $G$ be an $R$-torsion group and let $H$ be a nontrivial subgroup generated by a single element of $G$. By assumption, $|H| \cdot 1_R$ is not
invertible in $R$. Therefore, $cd_R(H)=hd_R(H)=\infty$. This shows that any nontrivial subgroup of $G$ has infinite (co)homological dimension over $R$.
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(3):} Let $G$ be countable and let $H<G$. Then, by Theorem 4.6 of \cite{bieri}, we have
$hd_R(H)\leq cd_R(H)\leq hd_R(H)+1$. This proves $hjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(G)\leq hjh_R(G)+1$.
In general, suppose $G$ has jump cohomology over $R$. Let $H<G$ so that $hd_R(H)<\infty$. Since
homology of groups commutes with direct limits, we can find a finitely generated subgroup $H'< H$ such that $hd_R(H')=hd_R(H)$.
Then, $hd_R(H')\leq cd_R(H')\leq hd_R(H')+1$ implies $hd_R(H)\leq cjh_R(G)$.
\end{proof}
\begin{remk}{\label{sc:3.2}}{\normalfont Note that over the integers, part $(2)$ of the proposition states that a group
is torsion if and only if it has jump (co)homology of height zero.
More generally, a finite group $G$ has (co)homological dimension zero only if it is $R$-torsion-free. If $G$ contains
$R$-torsion, then $cd_R(G)=hd_R(G)=\infty$. This implies that every finite group has jump (co)homology of height zero over $R$.
It follows that every locally finite group has jump homology of height zero over $R$.
So, we see that relaxing the definition of (co)homological dimension of a group allows us to consider groups with large torsion subgroups.}
\end{remk}
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:3.3}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a group and let $R$ be a commutative ring with a unit.
\begin{enumerate}
\item Let $G$ be a direct limit of (countable) groups $G_i$, $i\in I$, where
each $G_i$ has jump (co)homology over $R$. If $k=\mbox{sup}\{hjh_R(G_i)\}<\infty$ $(k=\mbox{sup}\{cjh_R(G_i)\}<\infty),$
then $G$ has jump (co)homology of height $k$ ($k$ or $k+1$) over $R$.
\vspace{1mm}
\item If a (countable) group $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$, then there
exists a finitely generated subgroup $S<G$ with jump (co)homology over $R$ with $hjh_R(S)=hjh_R(G)$
($cjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(S)\leq cjh_R(G)+1$).
\end{enumerate}}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof}
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(1):} Let $H<G$ such that $cd_R(H)<\infty$ and let $H_i=G_i\cap H$. Then, $H=\underrightarrow{\lim}_{i\in I} H_i$ and
the theorem of Berstein (see Thm. 4.7 in \cite{bieri}) shows
$$cd_R(H)\leq \mbox{sup}\{cd_R(H_i)\}+1\leq k+1.$$ Since $k=cjh_R(G_j)$ for some $j\in I$, we have $cjh_R(G)=k \mbox{ or } k+1$.
For the homological part, let $H<G$ with $hd_R(H)<\infty$ and let $H_{\alpha}=G_{\alpha}\cap H$.
Then, $H=\underrightarrow{\lim}_{{\alpha}\in I} H_{\alpha}$ and $$H_k(H,M)=\underrightarrow{\lim}_{{\alpha}\in I}H_k(H_{\alpha},M)$$ for each $k$ and a $\mathbb Z H$-module $M$. It
follows that $hd_R(H)\leq k$ and thus $hjh_R(G)\leq k$. Since $k=hjh_R(G_{\beta})$ for some ${\beta}\in I$, $hjh_R(G)=k$.
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(2):} This is a direct application of (1).
\end{proof}
In the next proposition, we derive relations between jump heights of groups forming a short exact sequence.
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:3.4}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a group and let $R$ be a commutative ring with a unit.
\begin{enumerate}
\item Suppose $H$ is a finite index subgroup of $G$. Then $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$
if and only if $H$ has jump (co)homology over $R$. Moreover,
$hjh_R(G)=hjh_R(H)$ ($cjh_R(G)=cjh_R(H)$).
\vspace{1mm}
\item Suppose $$1\rightarrow T {\buildrel \iota \over \longrightarrow} G {\buildrel \pi \over \longrightarrow} Q\rightarrow 1$$
is a short exact sequence of groups
such that $Q$ has jump (co)homology and $T$ is $R$-torsion. Then $G$ has jump
(co)homology of height $hjh_R(G)\leq hjh_R(Q)$ ($cjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(Q)$).
\vspace{1mm}
\item Suppose $$1\rightarrow K {\buildrel \iota \over \longrightarrow} G {\buildrel \pi \over \longrightarrow} Q\rightarrow 1$$
is a short exact sequence of groups such that $Q$ has finite virtual (co)homological dimension over $R$ and $K$ has jump (co)homology
over $R$. Then $G$ has jump (co)homology of
height $$hjh_R(G)\leq hjh_R(K)+vhd_R(Q)$$ $$(cjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(K)+vcd_R(Q))$$ over $R$.
\end{enumerate}}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof}
\noindent {\it(1):}
Suppose that $H$ has jump
cohomology over $R$. Let $T<G$ with $cd_R(T)<\infty$. Since $T\cap H$ is a finite index subgroup of $T$,
$cd_R(T\cap H)=cd_R(T)$. Therefore, $cd_R(T)\leq cjh_R(H)$ and $cjh_R(G)=cjh_R(H)$.
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(2):} Let $H<G$ with $cd_R(H)<\infty$. Since $\pi|_{H}:H\to Q$ is injective, it follows
that $cjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(Q)$.
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(3):} By (1), we can assume $cd_R(Q)<\infty$. Let $H<G$ with $cd_R(H)<\infty$.
Since $$cd_R(H)\leq cd_R(\iota^{-1}(H))+ cd_R(\pi(H)),$$ we have $$cd_R(H)\leq cjh_R(K)+cd_R(Q).$$
\end{proof}
\begin{remk}{\label{sc:3.5}} {\normalfont The cohomological part of the inequality in (3) cannot be generalized for short exact sequences where
the group $Q$ has jump cohomology, but not necessarily finite virtual cohomological dimension.
For example, consider the short exact sequence
$$0\rightarrow \mathbb Z\longrightarrow \mathbb Q \longrightarrow \mathbb Q/{\mathbb Z}\rightarrow 0.$$
Note that $cjh(\mathbb Z)=cd(\mathbb Z)=1$, $cjh(\mathbb Q/{\mathbb Z})=0$, and yet,
$cjh(\mathbb Q)=cd(\mathbb Q)=2$.}
\end{remk}
\medskip
There are some interesting properties of jump (co)homology for the classes of solvable and linear groups which we present next.
\subsection{Solvable groups}
In what follows, let $R$ be a commutative integral domain of characteristic zero. First, we recall
a well-known result.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:3.6}}{\normalfont (Stammbach, \cite{stam}) Let $G$ be an
$R$-torsion-free solvable group with Hirsch length $h<\infty$. Then, $hd_R(G)=h$
and there exist an $\mathbb FG$-module $A$ additively isomorphic to the fractional
field ${\mathbb F}$ of $R$, such that $H^{\mathbb F}_h(G, A)\cong {\mathbb F}$.}
\end{thm}
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:3.7}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a virtually polycyclic group. Then $G$ has jump (co)homology
over $R$ and $$hjh_R(G)=cjh_R(G)=vcd_R(G)=h(G).$$}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof} Let $H$ be a finite index poly-$\mathbb Z$ subgroup of $G$.
Then, $hd_R(H)=h(G)$. Since, $hd_R(H)\leq cd_R(H)\leq h(H)$, we have
$cd_R(H)=hd_R(H)=h(G)$.
\end{proof}
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:3.8}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a nilpotent group. $G$ has jump homology
over $R$ if and only if it has finite Hirsch length. In addition,
$hjh_R(G)=h(G)$.}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof} Suppose $G$ has jump homology over $R$.
Let $H$ be a finitely generated subgroup of $G$ such that $hd_R(H)=hjh_R(G)$. Then,
$h(H)=vcd_R(H)= hjh_R(G)$. This proves that $h(G)= hjh_R(G)$.
Now, suppose $h(G)<\infty$.
Let $H<G$ with $hd_R(H)<\infty$. By Stammbach's Theorem, $ hd_R(H)= h(H)$.
This shows that $hjh_R(G)\leq h(G)$.
\end{proof}
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:3.9}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a solvable group.
\smallskip
\begin{enumerate}
\item If $h(G)<\infty$, then $G$ has jump homology
over $R$ with $hjh_R(G)\leq h(G)$. Conversely, if $G$ is finitely generated with jump homology
over $R$, then $h(G)< \infty$.
\smallskip
\item Let $\mathbb F$ be the fraction field of $R$. The conditions that $G$ has jump homology over $\mathbb F$,
$G$ has finite homological dimension over $\mathbb F$, and $G$ has finite Hirsch length are equivalent. Moreover, $$hjh_{\mathbb F}(G)= hd_{\mathbb F}(G)=h(G).$$
\end{enumerate}}
\end{thm}
\begin{proof} {\it(1):} Following the proof of Lemma \ref{sc:3.8}, we have that if $h(G)<\infty$, then $hjh_R(G)\leq h(G)$.
Suppose now $G$ is finitely generated and has jump homology over $R$. Let
$G_1$ denote the commutator subgroup. Since $h(G)=h(G_1) + rk(G/G_1)$, by Lemma \ref{sc:3.8},
$h(G)=hjh_R(G_1)+rk(G/G_1)<\infty$.
\smallskip
\noindent {\it(2):} Since every group is $\mathbb F$-torsion-free, this is an easy
application of Stammbach's Theorem.
\end{proof}
\subsection{Linear groups}
Let $R$ is a commutative integral domain of characteristic zero.
\begin{lem}{\label{sc:3.10}}{\normalfont
Let $G$ be a finitely generated linear group. Then $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$
if and only if $G$ has finite virtual cohomological dimension. In addition, $$vcd(G)=cjh(G)\geq cjh_R(G)=vcd_R(G)\geq hjh_R(G)=vhd_R(G).$$}
\end{lem}
\begin{proof}Suppose $vcd(G)<\infty$. Let $H<G$ with $[G:H]<\infty$ such that $cd(H)=vcd(G)$. Clearly, $cd(H)=cjh(G)$.
Since $cd_R(H)\leq cd(H)$, we have $cjh(G)\geq cjh_R(G)$.
By (3) of Proposition \ref{sc:3.1}, it also follows $cjh_R(G)\geq hjh_R(G)$.
Now, suppose $G$ has jump cohomology over $R$. According to a deep theorem of Alperin and Shalen (see \cite{alperin}) $G$ has finite virtual cohomological dimension if and only if there is an upper bound on the Hirsch lengths of its finitely generated unipotent subgroups.
Let $U$ be a finitely generated unipotent subgroup of $G$. From Lemma \ref{sc:3.8}, $h(U)=cjh_R(U)\leq cjh_R(G)$. This shows $vcd(G)<\infty$.
The homological part is analogous.
\end{proof}
The notion of jump (co)homology allows us to extend the Alperin's and Shalen's result to linear groups which are not necessarily finitely generated.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:3.11}}{\normalfont A (countable) linear group $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$ if and only if there is a
finite upper bound on the Hirsch lengths of its finitely generated unipotent subgroups.}
\end{thm}
\begin{proof} Suppose $G$ has jump
cohomology over $R$. Let $U$ be a finitely generated unipotent subgroup of $G$. Then,
$h(U)=cjh_R(U)\leq cjh_R(G)$. The proof of the homological part is similar.
For the converse, suppose the Hirsch lengths of all finitely generated unipotent subgroups is bounded by an integer $k$.
We will show that $G$ has jump homology over $R$.
Let $G$ be a direct limit of its finitely generated subgroups $G_{\alpha}$, $\alpha\in I$. By (1) of Proposition \ref{sc:3.3},
it is enough to show that each $G_{\alpha}$ has jump homology over $R$ and $\mbox{sup}\{hjh_R(G_{\alpha})\}<\infty$. According to
the remark after Theorem 3.3 of \cite{alperin}, $vcd(G_{\alpha})\leq 1+C+N_{G_{\alpha}}+ mn+ Cn^4,$
for each ${\alpha}\in I$. Here, the only constant that depends on $G_{\alpha}$ is $$N_{G_{\alpha}}=\mbox{sup}\{cd(U_{\beta})| U_{\beta}
\mbox{ a unipotent subgroup of } G_{\alpha}\}.$$ Therefore, $vcd(G_{\alpha})\leq 1 + C + k + mn + Cn^4$ and
$hjh_R(G_{\alpha}) = vhd_R(G_{\alpha})
\leq 1 + C + k + mn + Cn^4,$
for each ${\alpha}\in I$.
The cohomological version now follows by \ref{sc:3.1}.
\end{proof}
\begin{cor}{\label{sc:3.12}}{\normalfont Suppose $$\displaystyle{1\rightarrow S {\buildrel\iota \over \longrightarrow} G {\buildrel \pi \over \longrightarrow} Q\rightarrow 1}$$
is a short exact sequence of (countable) linear groups
such that $S$ and $Q$ have jump (co)homology over $R$. Then $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$ and
$$hjh_R(G)\leq hjh_R(S)+ hjh_R(Q)$$ $$(cjh_R(G)\leq cjh_R(S)+ cjh_R(Q)+1).$$}
\end{cor}
\begin{proof}
Let $H$ be a finitely generated subgroup of $G$.
Let $S_1=\iota^{-1}(H)$ and $Q_1= \pi(H)$. By \ref{sc:3.4}, $hjh_R(H)\leq hjh_R(S_1)+vhd_R(Q_1)\leq hjh_R(S)+hjh_R(Q)$. Now, (1) of Proposition \ref{sc:3.3} concludes the proof.
\end{proof}
\medskip
\subsection{Groups without $R$-torsion}
Here we assume more generally that $R$ is a commutative ring with a unit. In \cite{nans}, we studied the following
\begin{conj}{\label{sc:3.13}}{\normalfont (\cite {nans}) Let $G$ be a group without $R$-torsion and let $k$ be nonnegative
integer. Then $G$ has jump cohomology of height $k$ over $R$ if and only if $G$ has finite cohomological
dimension $k$ over $R$.}
\end{conj}
It is immediate that if $cd_R(G)=k$, then $cjh_R(G)=k$.
In \cite{nans}, we proved that the converse holds when $G$ is in
${\sl H}{\mathcal F}$.
An interesting type of groups that have jump cohomology are groups with periodic cohomology.
Namely, a group $G$ has {\it periodic cohomology after $k$-steps over $R$} if there
exists an integer $q\geq 0$ such that the functors $H^{i}_R(G, -)$
and $H^{i+q}_R(G, -)$ are naturally equivalent for all $i>k$.
For torsion-free groups, it is has been conjectured by Talelli (see \cite{tal2})
that the notions of periodic cohomology and finite cohomological dimension are equivalent. This can
be seen as a special case of Conjecture \ref{sc:3.13}.
A deep theorem of Adem and Smith shows the relevance of Talelli's Conjecture in understanding free group actions
on homology spheres.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:3.14}} {\normalfont (Adem-Smith, 2001, \cite{AS}) A group $G$ has
periodic cohomology induced by a cup product map if and only if $G$ acts freely and properly on
a finite dimensional complex homotopy equivalent to a sphere. If, in addition,
$G$ is countable, then it acts freely, properly discontinuously, and smoothly on some $S^n\times \mathbb R^k$.}
\end{thm}
Talelli's Conjecture asserts that a torsion-free group that acts freely and properly
discontinuously on some $S^n\times \mathbb R^k$, in fact, can act freely and properly discontinuously on a
Euclidean space.
\section{Identifying $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$}
The subclass $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P})\subseteq \mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P})$ consists of groups that act
freely and cellularly on a finite dimensional CW-complex in $\mathcal {P}$. If $\mathcal {P}$ poses
no additional restrictions, then $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P})=\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P})$
is the class of all groups. This follows from the fact that any group can be realized as a fundamental group
of a 2-dimensional CW-complex. On the other hand, if we consider the class
of polycyclic groups $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P}_4)$, then $\mathcal {N}_1(\mathcal {P}_4)$ is exactly the class of
cyclic groups. Thus, identifying the subclass $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P})$ can be seen as a first step in understanding
properties of groups in $\mathcal {N}^{cell}(\mathcal {P})$.
In this regard, we proceed to show that every group in $\mathcal {N}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$ has jump (co)homology over $R$.
First we need a proposition which is a generalization of a result obtained in \cite{nans} (see Prop. 2.5).
\begin{prop}{\label{sc:3.15}}{\normalfont Suppose $R$ is an integral domain of characteristic zero. Let $G$ be a group and let $X$ be
an $n$-dimensional $G$-CW-complex. Suppose there exist an integer
$k$ such that for
each $i > k$, $H_i(X, \mathbb Z)$ is an $R$-torsion-free torsion group and $H_k(X, \mathbb Z)\cong {\mathbb Z}^m \oplus F$ where $m>0$
and $F$ is an $R$-torsion-free finite group.
If all the stabilizer subgroups of the action of $G$ on $X$ have jump (co)homology over $R$
uniformly bounded by an integer $b$, then $G$ has jump (co)homology over $R$ with height at most $ b + n - k +
\displaystyle { {1\over 2}{m(m-1)}}.$}
\end{prop}
\begin{proof}We prove the cohomological statement and note that the homological part is analogous.
The action of $G$ on the complex $X$ induces an action on $H_k(X,
\mathbb Z)$, which may be nontrivial. Since $H_k(X, \mathbb
Z)\cong {\mathbb Z}^m\oplus F$,
$\mbox{GL}_m(\mathbb Z)$ is a finite index subgroup of $\mbox{Aut}(H_k(X,
\mathbb Z))$. Thus, we can find a finite index subgroup of $G$
that acts separately on the two summands $\mathbb Z^m$ and $F$,
and acts trivially on $F$. In view of (1) of Proposition \ref{sc:3.4}, we can
assume that $G$ acts this way. Then, the action is induced by a
representation of $\rho :G\to \mbox{GL}_m(\mathbb Z)$.
Suppose, by contradiction, that $G$ has a subgroup of finite cohomological dimension over $R$ larger than
our estimate. Without loss of generality, we can assume this for $G$ itself. Let $H=\mbox{ker}(\rho)$. Since $$vcd_R(\rho(G))\leq vcd(\mbox{GL}_m(\mathbb Z))=\displaystyle{{1\over 2}{m(m-1)}},$$ we have $cd_R(H)> b + n - k$.
Let $h=cd_R(H)$. Then,
$H_R^i(H, M)= 0$ for all $i> h$ and all ${R}H$-modules $M$, and there exist a ${R}H$-module $A$ such
that $H_R^{h}(H, A)\ne 0$.
Consider the double complex $\displaystyle{\mbox{Hom}(P_*,
C^*(X,A))}$, where $P_*$ is a projective resolution of $R$ over ${R}H$ and $C^*(X,A)$ is the cellular co-chain
complex of $X$ with ${R}H$-module coefficients $A$. The
natural bi-grading of the complex gives us the
spectral sequence,
$$E^{p,q}_2(A)= H_R^p(H, H^q(X, A))
\Longrightarrow H_R^{p+q}(H, C^*(X, A)).$$
Observe that $E^{p,q}_2(A) = 0$ when $p> h$ or $q> k$. The corner argument then
shows,
$$ H_R^{h+k}(H, C^*(X,A))\cong
H_R^h(H, H^k(X, A)).$$
By the Universal Coefficient Theorem, we also have
$$0\rightarrow \mbox{Ext}_{\mathbb Z}^1(H_{k-1}(X),\mathbb Z)\rightarrow H^k(X, A)\rightarrow \mbox{Hom}(H_{k}(X),A)\rightarrow 0.$$
The associated long exact sequence in cohomology shows that $H_R^h(H, (H^k(X,A))$ surjects onto $H_R^h(H, \mbox{Hom}(H_{k}(X),A))$.
On the other hand,
\begin{align*}
H_R^h(H, \mbox{Hom}(H_{k}(X),A)) &\cong H_R^h(H, A^m)\\
&\cong {\underbrace{{H_R^h(H, A)}\oplus \dots \oplus{H_R^h(H, A)}}_{\mathrm{m}}}\\
&\ne 0.\\
\end{align*}
Therefore, $H_R^{h+k}(H, C^*(X,A))\ne 0$, showing that $$\mbox{dim}(H_R^{*}(H, C^*(X,A)))= h+k > b+n.$$
The double complex also gives the $E_1$-term spectral sequence,
$$E^{p,q}_1(A)=\displaystyle{\bigoplus_{\sigma \in \Sigma_p}}
H_R^q(H_{\sigma}, A^{\sigma})\Longrightarrow
H_R^{p+q}(H, C^*(X, A)),$$
where $X_p$ is the collection of all the $p$-cells and $\Sigma_p$ denotes
a set of representatives of all the $H$-orbits in $X_p$.
According to our hypotheses, $E^{p,q}_1 = 0$
when $p>n$ or $q>b$. This implies that $$\mbox{dim}(H_R^{*}(H, C^*(X,
A)))\leq b+n,$$ contradicting our earlier estimate.
\end{proof}
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:3.16}}{\normalfont
Let $\mathcal{J_R}$ be the class of groups with jump cohomology over $R$
and let $\mathcal{VCD}$ denote the class of groups with finite virtual cohomological dimension.
Then, $$\mathcal{VCD}\subseteq \mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)\subseteq \mathcal{J_R}.$$}
\end{thm}
\begin{proof} If $G\in \mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$, then there is a finite dimensional free-$G$-CW-complex $X$
satisfying the hypotheses of \ref{sc:3.15}. So, $G$ has jump cohomology.
Suppose $G\in \mathcal{VCD}$. Let $N\lhd G$ such that $[G:N]< \infty$ and $cd(N)<\infty$.
Let $X$ be a finite dimensional
contractible free-$N$-CW-complex. Proceeding as in the proof of Proposition \ref{sc:4}, we can construct a finite dimensional,
contractible CW-complex
$Y=\mbox{Map}_N(G, X)$. Since $N$ acts freely on $Y$, the intersection of each isotropy group of the action of
$G$ on $Y$ with $N$ is trivial.
Let $F=G/N$. Then $F$ acts freely and cellularly on a torus $T$. Let $G$ act on $T$
through the epimorphism of $G$ onto $F$ and let $G$ act on the product $Y\times T$ through the diagonal action.
We claim that this action is free. Indeed, the isotropy groups of the action of $G$ on $T$ are $N$ and the isotropy
groups of the action of $G$ on $Y$ intersect trivially with $N$.
\end{proof}
\begin{remk}{\label{sc:3.17}}{\normalfont Let $\mathcal T$ be the class consisting of only the trivial group. Observe that Conjecture \ref{sc:3.13} implies that the class of torsion-free $\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_{\mathbb Z})$-groups
is exactly the class of $\sl H_1 \mathcal T$-groups, i.e. torsion-free $\sl H_1 \mathcal F$-groups.
In \cite{nans}, we have shown that ${\sl H \mathcal T} \cap {\mathcal J_{\mathbb Z}}= {\sl H_1 \mathcal T}$.
Combining this together with \ref{sc:3.16}, implies $${\sl H \mathcal T} \cap \mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_{\mathbb Z})= {\sl H_1 \mathcal T}.$$}
\end{remk}
\begin{remk}{\label{sc:3.18}}{\normalfont It is known that the Thompson's group $F$ is of type $\mbox{FP}_\infty$ but
not $\sl H \mathcal F$ (see \cite{BG}, \cite{krop}). This group can be
defined by the presentation,
$$\langle x_0, x_1, x_2, ... | x_i^{-1} x_n x_i = x_{n+1} \mbox{ for all }
i<n \mbox{ and } n\in {\mathbb N}\rangle.$$
We point out that $F$ does not have jump (co)homology over $R$, because it has an infinite
rank abelian subgroup $${\mathbb Z}^\infty = \langle x_0
x_1^{-1}, x_2 x_3^{-1}, x_4 x_5^{-1}, ... \rangle.$$
This shows that
$\mathcal {N}^{cell}_1(\mathcal {P}_R)$ does not contain $F$.}
\end{remk}
We end this section by an application of Proposition \ref{sc:3.15} to solvable groups.
\begin{thm}{\label{sc:3.19}}{\normalfont Let $G$ be a solvable group and let $X$ be a finite dimensional
$G$-CW-complex. Suppose there exists an integer $t$ such that $\displaystyle{\oplus_{i\geq t} H_i(X)}$ is finitely generated and infinite.
Then $G$ has finite Hirsch length if and only if there is an upper bound on the Hirsch lengths of all the stabilizer subgroups.}
\end{thm}
\begin{proof} Let $b$ be a bound on the Hirsch lengths of all the stabilizer
subgroups. By Theorem \ref{sc:3.9}, every stabilizer subgroup has jump homology over $\mathbb Q$ with
jump height equal to its Hirsch length. It can now be easily seen that
the group $G$ and the complex $X$ satisfy the hypotheses of
\ref{sc:3.15} for $R=\mathbb Q$. Therefore, $h(G)=hjh_{\mathbb Q}(G)<\infty$.
\end{proof}
$${\bf Acknowledgment}$$
I owe many thanks to Alain Valette for fruitful conversations about group actions on trees and for recalling the result of Lemma \ref{sc:7}.
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 4,065 |
Judge puts Nevada school-choice program on hold
Michelle Rindels
A district judge put Nevada's sweeping school-choice program on hold just weeks before money was expected to flow to parents for private school tuition.
Carson City District Court Judge James Wilson granted a preliminary injunction Monday that orders the state treasurer to stop implementing Nevada's new education savings accounts pending further court deliberations. Wilson said the plaintiffs proved they had a reasonable chance of prevailing in the case, and ordered the parties to work out a date for the next hearing.
The Republican-backed program, authorized in the spring by the Nevada Legislature allows parents to claim more than $5,000 in state per-pupil school funds each year and use it for qualified education expenses for their child.
A coalition including parents in Reno and Las Vegas and Democratic former state Sen. Justin Jones challenged the program, saying it would divert money from public schools and could run afoul of the state constitution.
"The Nevada Constitution makes it crystal clear that the funding provided for our public schools can only be used to operate those schools, and not for any other purpose," Jones said when the suit was filed in August. "The voucher law, by taking funding out of the public schools to pay for private school tuition and other private services, blatantly violates this explicit mandate enshrined in our state constitution."
Plaintiffs also argued that it would disproportionately benefit wealthier families who could afford to pay more when the cost of private school tuition exceeded the value of the ESA.
Thousands of families who applied were told they could receive funds by February if courts didn't object. Some moved their children into public schools temporarily so they could meet one of the program's requirements — that children attend public school for at least 100 days before becoming eligible.
The program has been touted by Republicans and has garnered national headlines, but its future has long been uncertain. It's subject to two other lawsuits, including one from the American Civil Liberties Union that one argues ESAs violate the Blaine Amendment, a Nevada constitutional provision banning the use of public funds for religious purposes.
A judge hasn't ruled yet in that case. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 2,036 |
In addition to all of the resins, color concentrates, printing inks and packaging materials and as a natural extension of our insert metal molding and secondary added value operations we can source all of the goods for your project. Forum Plastics LLC has the infrastructure to manage the contracts, logistics, warehousing, and cash flow to provide full management of the entire supply chain on added value projects. Whether it is custom thin wall tubing, specialty screw machine components, custom packaging or off the shelf springs we have the resources to manage this supply chain from beginning to end. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
} | 9,954 |
import NativeObject from '../NativeObject';
import Widget from '../Widget';
import {types} from '../property-types';
import {JSX} from '../JsxProcessor';
export default class Button extends Widget {
/**
* @param {Partial<Button>=} properties
*/
constructor(properties) {
super(Object.assign({style: 'default'}, properties));
}
get _nativeType() {
return 'tabris.Button';
}
/**
* @param {string[]} properties
*/
_reorderProperties(properties) {
const styleIndex = properties.indexOf('style');
if (styleIndex === -1) {
return super._reorderProperties(properties);
}
return super._reorderProperties(
['style']
.concat(properties.slice(0, styleIndex))
.concat(properties.slice(styleIndex + 1))
);
}
_getXMLAttributes() {
return super._getXMLAttributes().concat([['text', this.text]]);
}
/** @this {import("../JsxProcessor").default} */
[JSX.jsxFactory](Type, attributes) {
const children = this.getChildren(attributes);
const normalAttributes = this.withoutChildren(attributes);
return super[JSX.jsxFactory](Type, this.withContentText(
normalAttributes,
children,
'text'
));
}
}
NativeObject.defineProperties(Button.prototype, {
style: {
type: types.string,
choice: ['default', 'elevate', 'flat', 'outline', 'text'],
default: 'default',
const: true
},
strokeColor: {
type: {
convert(value, button) {
if (button.style !== 'outline') {
throw new Error(
`The strokeColor can only be set on buttons with style "outline" but it has style ${button.style}.`
);
}
return types.ColorValue.convert(value);
},
encode: types.ColorValue.encode
},
default: 'initial'
},
strokeWidth: {
type: {
convert(value, button) {
if (button.style !== 'outline') {
throw new Error(
`The strokeWidth can only be set on buttons with style "outline" but it has style ${button.style}.`
);
}
return types.dimension.convert(value);
}
},
nullable: true,
default: null
},
alignment: {
type: types.string,
choice: ['left', 'right', 'centerX'],
default: 'centerX'
},
autoCapitalize: {
type: types.string,
choice: ['default', 'none', 'all'],
default: 'default'
},
image: {type: types.ImageValue, default: null},
imageTintColor: {type: types.ColorValue, default: 'initial'},
text: {type: types.string, default: ''},
textColor: {type: types.ColorValue, default: 'initial'},
font: {type: types.FontValue, default: 'initial'}
});
NativeObject.defineEvents(Button.prototype, {
select: {native: true}
});
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 1,864 |
{"url":"http:\/\/sro.sussex.ac.uk\/id\/eprint\/56989\/","text":"# The bulk-surface finite element method for reaction-diffusion systems on stationary volumes\n\nMadzvamuse, Anotida and Chung, Andy H W (2016) The bulk-surface finite element method for reaction-diffusion systems on stationary volumes. Finite Elements in Analysis and Design, 108. pp. 9-21. ISSN 0168-874X\n\n Preview\nPDF - Published Version\n\nIn this work we present the bulk-surface finite element method (BSFEM) for solving coupled systems of bulk-surface reaction-diffusion equations (BSRDEs) on stationary volumes. Such systems of coupled bulk-surface partial differential equations arise naturally in biological applications and fluid dynamics, for example, in modelling of cellular dynamics in cell motility and transport and diffusion of surfactants in two phase flows. In this proposed framework, we define the surface triangulation as a collection of the faces of the elements of the bulk triangulation whose vertices lie on the surface. This implies that the surface triangulation is the trace of the bulk triangulation. As a result, we construct two finite element spaces for the interior and surface respectively. To discretise in space we use piecewise bilinear elements and the implicit second order fractional-step $\\theta$ scheme is employed to discretise in time. Furthermore, we use the Newton method to treat the nonlinearities. The BSFEM applied to a coupled system of BSRDEs reveals interesting patterning behaviour. For a set of appropriate model parameter values, the surface reaction-diffusion system is not able to generate patterns everywhere in the bulk except for a small region close to the surface while the bulk reaction-diffusion system is able to induce patterning almost everywhere. Numerical experiments are presented to reveal such patterning processes associated with reaction-diffusion theory.","date":"2022-01-26 18:21:13","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.557670533657074, \"perplexity\": 778.0237381836336}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-05\/segments\/1642320304959.80\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20220126162115-20220126192115-00080.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
Search: Lionel Steve
Sensors (Basel). 2008 Jan 24;8(1):412-428.
Validating Evapotranspiraiton Equations Using Bowen Ratio in New Brunswick, Maritime, Canada.
Xing Z1, Chow L2, Meng FR3, Rees HW4, Steve L5, Monteith J6.
Potato Research Centre, Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, Fredericton, 850 Lincoln Road,. xingz@agr.gc.ca.
Potato Research Centre, Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, Fredericton, 850 Lincoln Road,. chowl@agr.gc.ca.
Faculty of Forestry & Environmental Management, University of New Brunswick, Fredericton, Canada. fmeng@unb.ca.
Potato Research Centre, Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, Fredericton, 850 Lincoln Road,. reesh@agr.gc.ca.
Potato Research Centre, Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, Fredericton, 850 Lincoln Road,. stevel@agr.gc.ca.
Potato Research Centre, Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, Fredericton, 850 Lincoln Road,. monteithj@agr.gc.ca.
Three methods including the Penman-Monteith (PM), Priestley-Taylor (PT), and 1963 Penman equation (PE) for calculating daily reference evapotranspiration (ETo) were evaluated in the Maritime region of Canada with the data collected from 2004 to 2007. An automatically operated meteorological station located on the Potato Research Centre, Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada, was used to collect required meteorological data for evapotranspiration modeling. A Bowen Ratio system (BR) was setup near the Environment Canada grade one weather station to provide evapotranspiration observations for the validation research of reference evapotranspiration models. The results showed that the prediction from each of the tested models had a certain degree of offset in comparison with the observations obtained by the BR method. All of the tested models slightly overestimated evapotranspiration compared to the BR system by 5-14%, depending on the method. However, the PM generated a better fit to the pooled dataset while the PT produced the best prediction for the 2007 validation dataset. The PM generated the best estimation of evapotranspiration for year 2004 during a inter-annual comparison. The BR revealed that the average daytime ET for the site was around 2.5 mm day-1(±0.1) averaged for Julian day 157-276 in 2004 to 2006 and possible condensation was 0.16 mm day-1 for the same period. Crop coefficient (Kc) varied with different models, for example, 0.42 for the PM, 0.44 for the PT, and 0.67 for the PE with a slight yearly variation. With this set of Kc values, a validation with additional dataset collected in 2007 indicated that all three equations achieved a good fit with observations using the above Kc values. The PT performed slightly better than the other two models. A single factor analysis did not show any statistically significant difference between predicted and measured ET. With a consideration of simplicity and application for scaling up to landscape, this research suggested that the PT is the preferable method for estimating ET values in this region.
1963 Penman Equation; Bowen Ratio; Penman-Monteith; Priestley-Taylor; crop coefficient (Kc); evapotranspiration model
10.3390/s8010412
Daily pattern of data rejection frequency (0∼1) and wind speed (m/s) (a); data rejection rates over different discard rate for different reasons (b).
Validating Evapotranspiraiton Equations Using Bowen Ratio in New Brunswick, Maritime, Canada
Sensors (Basel). 2008 Jan;8(1):412-428.
Diurnal cycle of Evapotranspiration.
A comparison between measured (all data included) and modeled ET.
A comparison between modelled and measured ET (night-time data are excluded).
Kc variability over time. PM, PT, and PE stand for the Penman-Monteith, Preistley-Taylor, and Penman 1963, respectively, when the Kc Values were calculated with night-time data. PM2, PT2, and PE2 stand for the Penman-Monteith, Preistley-Taylor, and Penman 1963, respectively, when the Kc Values were calculated with night-time data removed.
Variability of the performance of the PM model in different years. In the top panel, night-time data were included with Kc = 0.42. In the bottom, night-time data were excluded in calculation, Kc = 0.71. The number in the bracket indicates the year.
A comparison of the model performance, applying Kc values derived from year 2004-2006 into the data collected during 2007. PM stands for the Penman-Monteith method, PT, for the Priestley-Taylor; and PE, for the 1963 Penman Equation. The numbers in the brackets after each method name are the Kc vlues used.
Multidisciplinary Digital Publishing Institute (MDPI) - PDF
Steve, Lionel[Full Author Name] | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 6,129 |
I've been enjoying second semester so far.
In geometry, we just finished up the unit on triangle congruence. I felt like it was kind of rushed, but progress was definitely made. We revisited proofs after a brief introduction back in October, and I enjoyed seeing kids reasoning again.
One practice that I used several times was having small groups write out proofs on the whiteboards and then sharing them with the rest of the class. I asked each person to contribute one thing to the board (the diagram, marking the diagram, writing the congruence statements, using cpctc, etc) which was a good way to make sure no one was dead weight. One thing I'd want to improve is what the kids in the. audience are doing while the other groups share. Too many were tuned out and I felt like I was the only one listening and asking questions. However I think everyone was listening when one student ended up saying FU is congruent to FU.
I'm now teaching stats in FST. The curriculum is… lacking to say the least. I feel like stats could be so cool, but these crappy worksheets with blurry images are pretty uninspiring. My mentor said she'd help me come up with some cool stats projects, so I have to remember to follow through on that.
Speaking of curriculum, during the last inservice, the math department met and had a pretty kickass discussion on equity in our curriculum. Nothing concrete came out of it, but it was refreshing to hear everyone's ideas, and I was glad to learn that I'm not the only one who thinks much of our curriculum is really out-dated, non-rigorous, and inequitable. I really do feel like I'm teaching something that was written in the late 80s or early 90s. I can't relate to it all, and I sympathsize with my students when they can't either.
So there's much work to be done, but so far second semester has been shaping up nicely. It's frickin cold out and we won't have any vacation until spring break, but I've been enjoying every day so what more could I ask for? I've been feeling pretty lucky lately.
My goal for my Geometry classes today was to be as mathematically productive as possible, given that it was the last day of classes before break. The plan was to review the last assignment, take the quizlet (what my department calls formative assessment), do an extension problem, then make a Koch Snowflake if there was still time.
The extension problem was the "Shortest Path Problem" which I highly recommend.
It turned out to fit perfectly with what we're learning right now. It also sparked some rich conversations and good reasoning, and everyone could at least venture a guess, even if they didn't really know what to do to figure out the exact shortest path.
This plan was carried out differently in each of my three Geometry classes. In the first class, I reviewed several problems and concepts, kids followed along, asked questions, the usual. They took the quizlet. I passed out a half-sheet with the scenario typed out on it. I didn't include a diagram, thinking that the kids should make the diagram. That was a mistake because the wording isn't exactly clear, so some kids drew the tent and camper on opposite sides of the river and all sorts of random things. So I had to draw the diagram up on the board for everyone, which slightly killed the magic, but at least we were all on the same page.
A few kids calculated the distance of a path, but not the shortest, and then wanted to be done. I needed a way to motivate them to keep working. In a rare moment of brilliance, I decided to keep score. I announced "Jesse found a path that's 1,518 feet, can anyone beat that?". Then I'd write the student's name and their shortest path on the board. It became a competition to see who could find the shortest path. I let things linger too long in my first class because a few students were really getting into it and asking wonderful questions like, "how do you know that's 450 feet" and "can you show me how you got that". So unfortunately several kids had checked out, but at least everyone did something with the problem.
In my other two classes, I skipped the homework review and went straight to the quizlet because there was no way they were going to sit and listen to me blah blah blah about their homework problems on dilations and scale factors. In my first afternoon class, student behavior dictated that decision. In my second afternoon class, I asked them what they wanted to do, and almost everyone said, "let's just take the quizlet". So in those classes, there was plenty of time to do both the shortest path problem and the Koch Snowflake.
This time I just asked them to read the problem on their own, and then I read it aloud and drew the diagram as I read so everyone started out with the correct diagram. In one class several kids said they didn't know what to do to get started, so I said "guess and check" or "if you were the camper, where would you go if you wanted the shortest distance". This was an excellent starting point for those kids.
The snowflakes were fun too. We saw the Sierpinski Triangle this year, so I brought that up again as a reminder of what a fractal is, but then said that the fractal they were about to make was going to be more holiday-themed. I gave everyone some triangle graph paper to help them with their triangles. At first I thought maybe I'd have them construct the equilateral triangle, but using the graph paper was a good call.
In the fall I will be one of four new math teachers in my department, which is pretty unique. For two of us, it's our first year teaching. There are five returning math teachers, which brings our department total to nine. I've met everyone except for two of the other newbies, and I think it's going to be a really great group. My school has an AB block schedule with five blocks per day, and every other day the department has a common planning time, which is so awesome. I interviewed at a lot of schools this spring, and a common planning time was rare, so I lucked out on that one. I will definitely appreciate being able to plan and reflect with my coworkers regularly.
I'm teaching two classes this year: Geometry and Functions, Statistics, and Trigonometry, also known as FST. The other new teachers and I were presented with the four scheduling options, and the Geometry and FST schedule was my first pick, so I was happy about that.
The district is transitioning to Big Ideas Math (the middle school and Algebra classes already use it), and this year we are getting the Big Ideas Geometry book. I used Discovering Geometry while student teaching and thought that it was a good text, but I have absolutely zero knowledge about the Big Ideas approach. I'd never even heard of them. Do any of you use Big Ideas? What do you think? What have you heard about Big Ideas? Unfortunately, we won't have the Geometry textbooks and resources until late July, so that makes planning a bit difficult. Luckily, I taught Geometry while student teaching so I have a base to build on.
FST is an interesting class. After Geometry, there are two possible tracks. A student may take Advanced Algebra, and then likely continue on with Pre-Cal and then AP Calc. The other option splits up the Advanced Algebra topics into two classes: Algebra 2 the first year and FST the second year. The purpose seems to be to cover the material at a slower pace, do more review, and cover more topics. So most of my FST kids will be seniors with a few juniors in there too.
I've already met with the other FST teacher this summer, and he kindly gave me copies of the "text" and has told me about the course in general. I say "text" because there is no official textbook for this course, rather some teachers several years ago came up with their own curriculum for this class, so I have the course notes and homework assignments in a big binder. Fortunately, he also gave me a copy of the Discovering Advanced Algebra textbook so I can use their investigations and such. I will also be scouring the MTBoS for good activities, problems, and investigations.
I feel lucky to be in what seems to be a very supportive and collaborative department. My FST coworker and I are meeting again next week, and he seems very open to new ideas and suggestions and genuinely wants to make the course better. I have a good balance of freedom and structure: I can deliver the content in whatever way works for me as long as we teach the same thing at the same time, use common quizlets (the math department's formative assessment) and tests, and have the same grading policy. The students' schedules get shuffled around at semester, so some of his students will come to me and vice versa. I would prefer having the same students all year because switching it up will mess up the classroom culture that we've worked to create, but oh well.
So I'll be working on FST until late July when the Geometry team starts to get together. Lots to think about! | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
} | 5,362 |
{"url":"https:\/\/rlang.r-lib.org\/reference\/is_formula.html","text":"is_formula() tests if x is a call to ~. is_bare_formula() tests in addition that x does not inherit from anything else than \"formula\".\n\nis_formula(x, scoped = NULL, lhs = NULL)\n\nis_bare_formula(x, scoped = NULL, lhs = NULL)\n\n## Arguments\n\nx An object to test. A boolean indicating whether the quosure is scoped, that is, has a valid environment attribute. If NULL, the scope is not inspected. A boolean indicating whether the formula or definition has a left-hand side. If NULL, the LHS is not inspected.\n\n## Details\n\nThe scoped argument patterns-match on whether the scoped bundled with the quosure is valid or not. Invalid scopes may happen in nested quotations like ~~expr, where the outer quosure is validly scoped but not the inner one. This is because ~ saves the environment when it is evaluated, and quoted formulas are by definition not evaluated.\n\n## Examples\n\nx <- disp ~ am\nis_formula(x)#> [1] TRUE\nis_formula(~10)#> [1] TRUEis_formula(10)#> [1] FALSE\nis_formula(quo(foo))#> [1] TRUEis_bare_formula(quo(foo))#> [1] FALSE\n# Note that unevaluated formulas are treated as bare formulas even\n# though they don't inherit from \"formula\":\nf <- quote(~foo)\nis_bare_formula(f)#> [1] FALSE\n# However you can specify scoped if you need the predicate to\n# return FALSE for these unevaluated formulas:\nis_bare_formula(f, scoped = TRUE)#> [1] FALSEis_bare_formula(eval(f), scoped = TRUE)#> [1] TRUE","date":"2019-10-15 05:23:16","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.47085294127464294, \"perplexity\": 8222.50407972164}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2019-43\/segments\/1570986655864.19\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20191015032537-20191015060037-00487.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
{"url":"http:\/\/www.ams.org\/mathscinet-getitem?mr=%20925123","text":"MathSciNet bibliographic data MR925123 (89b:53079) 53C20 (58G30) Chang, Sun-Yung A.; Yang, Paul C. Conformal deformation of metrics on \\$S\\sp 2\\$$S\\sp 2$. J. Differential Geom. 27 (1988), no. 2, 259\u2013296. Article\n\nFor users without a MathSciNet license , Relay Station allows linking from MR numbers in online mathematical literature directly to electronic journals and original articles. Subscribers receive the added value of full MathSciNet reviews.","date":"2015-05-30 02:40:28","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 1, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.9977290034294128, \"perplexity\": 9829.452902224062}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 20, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2015-22\/segments\/1432207930866.66\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20150521113210-00315-ip-10-180-206-219.ec2.internal.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
\section{Introduction}
Causal reasoning is indispensable in science, medicine, economics, and many aspects of every day life. Identifying when one event is the cause of another and how intervening can modify future events are activities that move beyond mere statistical prediction \cite{Spirtes,Pearl,Woodward}.
The task of identifying causal relations directly from empirical data has received much attention in recent decades \cite{Peters}. Economists, computer scientists, statisticians, and philosophers have all contributed to the modern field of causal inference, where the overarching goal is to produce so-called \emph{causal models}, graphical devices that can be used to support causal queries about various phenomena of interest. Much of the work in this field is focused on identifying situations where we can build such causal models in the absence of any information gained directly via interventions. However, all causal models ultimately gain empirical meaning in virtue of the fact that one can \emph{in principle} test their implications via local interventions.
In the last few years, physicists have begun to consider the implications this modern approach to causality may have for specifically quantum phenomena. The goals of this recent work are diverse, and the fruits of labour varied, including foundational implications for our understanding of \mbox{causation~\cite{OCB,Cavalcanti, Pienaar, Henson, Spekkens, Chiribella1,Chiribella2, Costa, shrapnel, Allen}}, new insights into non-Markovian quantum dynamics \cite{Pollock, Milz, modi} and practical quantum advantages for certain causal identification tasks \cite{Ried, Chiribella3}.
A primitive assumption of all these works is the possibility of local interventions \cite{Pearl,Woodward}, controlled operations that can be used to probe and define the causal structure of interacting physical systems. To~date there has been little to no engagement with this aspect of the formalism beyond (i) identifying classical interventions with the setting of a classical random variable to a specific value (so-called ``atomic'' or ``surgical'' interventions) and (ii) identifying quantum interventions with quantum instruments (formally, completely positive trace preserving maps). It is therefore interesting to ask if there are specific physical constraints that determine whether a given controlled operation can uncover causal structure.
In this paper, we approach this question by considering the abstract notion of an intervention from a physical perspective. Using examples from both classical and quantum mechanics, we ask whether thermodynamic principles place any constraints on the nature of local interventions.
In Section~\ref{s2}, we summarise the concept of an intervention introduced by Pearl and the causal modelling community. In order to apply this rather abstract definition to mechanical systems, we define interventions in terms of stochastic control theory based on measurement. This raises the question of what kinds of interventions are allowed by the laws of physics and the question of an optimal intervention. In Section \ref{classical}, we show how to describe open systems in classical mechanics in terms of Markov maps. This makes dynamics irreversible and identifies the source of causal asymmetry as unmodelled noise. In Section \ref{interventions}, we show how to define interventions as a control process based on measurement, also described in terms of a Markov map. The intervention cuts the dynamical chain between pre-intervention and post-intervention states, identifying an alternative source of causal asymmetry for causal models. In Section \ref{thermodynamics}, we discuss the thermodynamics of interventions as control processes. We define the efficiency of a classical intervention thereby showing that perfect classical interventions are in fact impossible. In Section \ref{quantum}, we turn to the quantum case. We first review the theory of generalised measurements in quantum mechanics and highlight the role of entanglement for quantum open systems. We show, using a simple example of a two-particle collision, how entanglement prevents us from making time reversal transformations on the sub-system. In~Section \ref{quantum-interventions}, we define interventions in the quantum case as a control process described in terms of a completely positive map. Finally, in Section \ref{q-interventions}, we consider thermodynamic constraints for quantum interventions. Using~the example of coarse-grained position measurements on a thermalised simple harmonic oscillator we show how the uncertainty principle determines the thermodynamic costs of an intervention on a quantum system. We finish with a discussion.
\section{Interventions and Causal Processes}\label{s2}
Whilst statistical information can tell us when two variables are correlated, we require explicitly \emph{causal} information to explain how one variable will change in response to changes in another. Imagine~we make many measurements of two variables, $X$ and $Y$, and see that they are strongly correlated. Without further assumptions, it is impossible to predict what will happen if we intervene and set $X$ to a particular value. One can see that we can explain the correlation between $X$ and $Y$ via three causally distinct hypotheses: $X$ causes $Y$, $Y$ causes $X$, or $X$ and $Y$ are both effects of a common cause $Z$, see~Figure~\ref{PCC-graph}.
\begin{figure}[H]
\centering
\includegraphics[scale=1.0]{PCC-graph}
\caption{Three ways to graphically represent a causal structure that captures the correlation between two variables $X$ and $Y$. }\label{PCC-graph}
\end{figure}
Without the means to distinguish between these three options, it is impossible to make a predictive statement about what will happen following an intervention that directly sets the value of $X$. What~this means in reality will depend very much on the nature of the variables involved. It is the purpose of this paper to define interventions for mechanical systems and the physical constraints that control~them.
Pearl~\cite{Pearl} defines interventions in a highly abstract way as a `surgery on equations'. Suppose experiments reveal statistical correlations among a set of variables $X_i$ and a putative graphical representation is given for the causal connections between the variables, as in Figure~\ref{PCC-graph}. The parents of a variable $X_i$ refers to a subset of variables $PA_i$ say$\{X_1,X_2,\ldots X_{i-1}\}$ such that
\begin{equation}
P(x_i|pa_i)=P(x_i|x_1,\ldots,x_{i-1}).
\end{equation}
Each child--parent family is to be represented by a mechanism, or functional relationship, \mbox{$x_i=f_i(pa_i,u_i)$}, where $u_i$ are independent random disturbances. According to Pearl~\cite{Pearl}:
\begin{quote}
The simplest type of external intervention is one in which a single variable, say $X_i$, is forced to take on some fixed value, $x_i$. Such an intervention, which we call atomic, amounts to lifting $X_i$ from the influence of the old functional mechanism $x_i=f(pa_i,u_i)$, and placing it under the influence of a new mechanism that sets the value of $x_i$, while keeping all other mechanisms unperturbed.
\end{quote}
The first question we need to answer is as follows: in a mechanical system of interacting particles, what is meant by `forced'? More significantly, is it possible to satisfy the condition `while keeping all other mechanisms unperturbed' for mechanical systems? In the quantum case, the uncertainty principle may raise some doubts.
The relevant variables of mechanical systems are physical quantities such as position, momentum, energy, etc. We cannot change a physical variable unless we know how much to change it by and that requires making a measurement and then acting, conditionally, with a physically allowed operation on the space of states. Physically allowed means that the mathematical description must correspond to an operation consistent with the laws of physics, including thermodynamics. We thus define interventions in mechanical systems in terms of measurement and control. This necessarily requires us to consider open systems subject to dissipation, noise, and measurement. Causal interventions assume that an agent is acting upon an open subsystem of the world. This helps explain the asymmetrical nature of causal relations in a world in which the global laws of physics are time reversal invariant.
\section{Classical Stochastic Dynamics of Open Systems}\label{classical}
In classical mechanics, the state of a perfectly closed system at any time is given by the position, $ {\bf{q}}(t)=(q_1(t), q_2(t),\dots, q_N(t))$, and momenta, $ {\bf{p}}(t)=(p_1(t),p_2(t),\ldots, p_N(t))$, of all the particles in the system. The dynamics is determined by a real valued scalar function of all the position and momenta, $H({\bf q,p})$, the Hamiltonian, using the Poisson bracket operation and Hamilton's equations:
\begin{equation}
\dot{q}_i = \frac{\partial }{\partial p_i}H({\bf q,p})\ \ \ \ \ ;
\dot{p}_i = -\frac{\partial }{\partial q_i}H({\bf q,p}).
\label{conservative}
\end{equation}
The dynamics is entirely deterministic: Given the Hamiltonian, if we know the position and momenta of every particle at any time $(q_k(t_0), p_k(t_0))$, we can determine the position and momenta of every particle at any point in the future or the past of $t_0$. (Although generic dynamical systems are chaotic and determinism does not necessarily imply predictability.)
~As Laplace captured in his famous statement of classical determinism, a complete description of classical dynamics requires global knowledge, in~fact knowledge of the entire universe. This is never available for any finite agent embedded in the world. How then does one arrive at knowledge regarding universal laws? It is typically gained in a piecemeal fashion, via local experiment and observation. Causal models are explicitly designed to mirror exactly such local experiments. Such situations are `small worlds', not~only open, but~requiring the inclusion of an experimenter, or control system, to execute the relevant observations and interventions. The key assumption is that such local experiments give us epistemic access to situations where we do not have control, including closed systems, in order to make causal~inferences.
We can illustrate the two complimentary pictures, closed and open, by considering a simple example: the head-on collision of two particles with identical mass. To begin we will assume point particles. If the degrees of freedom of the two-particle system are isolated from the environment (which could include internal degrees of freedom, here excluded by the assumption of point particles), Newton's laws of motion tell us that the values of the momenta of each particle are simply exchanged. In this scattering problem, the initial and final momenta are related by $p_{a,f} = p_{b,i}$ and $p_{b,f} = p_{a,i}$.
If one particle is stationary before the collision, it is moving after the collision. It is tempting to say that the moving particle was the \emph{cause}, and the change in the motion of the stationary particle the \emph{effect}. There~is a natural objection to calling this ``causation''~\cite{Russell} as we can swap the labels $i,f$ on each side of the scattering equations and nothing changes. We could just as well say that the final motion is the cause of the earlier motion. Newton's laws are deterministic and reversible: systems can be perfectly~isolated.
Even if no external forces act on the two-particle system and total momentum is conserved, there~is the possibility that, if we drop the idealisation of point particles, we need to take into account internal degrees of freedom. These degrees of freedom describe the reversible effects of the internal forces of restitution in the deformation of elastic bodies in collision~\cite{Mach}. The momentum difference of the two particles, $\epsilon=p_{b,i}-p_{a,i}$, becomes correlated with the internal degrees of freedom of each particle. Thus,~while the internal degrees of freedom of each particle are uncorrelated (by assumption) before collision, they are necessarily correlated after the collision. At the collision, the internal degrees of freedom apply an equal and opposite impulse to each particle: an impulse $\epsilon$ to particle $a$ and an impulse $-\epsilon$ to particle $b$. This changes the momenta of the particles to $p_{a,f}=p_{b,i}$ and $p_{b,f}=p_{a,i}$. This description remains time reversal invariant so long as we include both the external and internal degrees of freedom of each particle.
Real experimental systems are, of course, never completely isolated, and measurements are never arbitrarily accurate. This is true of both classical and quantum systems. This is not just a question of practical considerations. As we will explain, it is a consequence of the laws of thermodynamics. In~any experiment, a decision must be made as to which degrees of freedom are to be fully accounted for and which are to be treated as unknown, environmental systems. In some cases, as we show, these~unknown degrees of freedom may in fact be internal degrees of freedom that constitute the coarse-grained macroscopic degrees of freedom under experimental control.
Let us consider the first fact: experimental systems are never isolated. The standard way to describe this situation is to embed the system of experimental interest into a larger system, called~the environment, and then to engineer the situation so that the energy of interaction between the system and the environment is small on the energy scales relevant for the experimental system itself. As,~by~explicit arrangement, we have little or no knowledge of the microscopic state of the environment, we average over these degrees of freedom to get a statistical (non deterministic) description of the experimental system of interest. In most situations, we assume that the environment is in thermal equilibrium. The net result is that the effect of the environment on the system remains only as a source of dissipation (friction) and small rapidly fluctuating forces. A controlled mechanical experiment will try to partition the world in such a way that the system-plus-environment approach cuts the world at the relevant degrees of freedom for the experimental investigation by a suitable arrangement of energy scales. It is a remarkable feature of the physical world that this is possible.
Once we have moved to the system-plus-environment picture, we can no longer specify the state of a physical system as entirely deterministic functions of time, $(q_i(t),p_i(t))$. Instead there are two completely equivalent ways to proceed. We can describe the system dynamics in terms of stochastic functions of time (the `Langevin picture') or we can give a description in terms of a probability density on phase space $\mathrm{P}(q_i,p_i,t)$, such that $\mathrm{P}(q_i,p_i,t)dq_idp_i$ is the probability to find the dynamical state in a small phase space volume centred on $(q_i,p_i)$. We will refer to this as the `Einstein picture', recalling Einstein's approach to diffusion in terms of probability densities. Physical state transformations correspond to Markov maps defined by a Markov kernel as \cite{LasMac,Markov-semigroup}.
\begin{equation}
P(q_i,p_i,t_f)=\int dp_{i}^\prime dq_{i}^\prime K(q_i,p_i, t_f-t_i)|p_{i}^\prime, q^\prime_{i})\mathrm{P}(p_{i}^\prime, q^\prime_{i},t_i).
\end{equation}
The kernel, $K$, has an interpretation as a conditional probability.
Using the model with the auxiliary system, we can write
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}_f(p_a,p_b) =\int_{-\infty}^{\infty} d\epsilon \delta(\epsilon - (p_b-p_a))\mathrm{P}_{a,i}(p_a+\epsilon)\mathrm{P}_{b,i}(p_b-\epsilon).
\end{equation}
The underlying reversible Newtonian dynamics is reflected in the delta function. This immediately suggests the generalisation.
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}_f(p_a,p_b) = \int d\epsilon \mathrm{P}(\epsilon-(p_a-p_b))\mathrm{P}_{a,i}(p_a+\epsilon)\mathrm{P}_{b,i}(p_b-\epsilon)
\end{equation}
where $\mathrm{P}(\epsilon)=P(-\epsilon)$ represents intrinsic initial fluctuations of the internal degrees of freedom. In this case, the transformation from initial to final distributions is no longer reversible.
To see this, we can easily show that,
while mean values are swapped at the collision, \mbox{$E(p_{a,f})=E(p_{b,i})$} and $E(p_{b,f})=E(p_{a,i})$ as we have assumed $\mathrm{P}(\epsilon)=\mathrm{P}(-\epsilon)$, the variances are related by $V(p_{a,f})=V((p_{b,i})+V(\epsilon)$ and $V(p_{b,f})=V((p_{a,i})+V(\epsilon)$. The interaction with unknown internal degrees of freedom always adds noise, which makes the two-particle dynamics irreversible if the auxiliary system is regarded as part of the environment and never observed. While we may continue to regard the final momentum of particle $b$ as the effect that is caused by particle $a$, the process is no longer time reversal invariant. In this picture, we see that the source of causal asymmetry is simply our ignorance of the unmodelled internal degrees of freedom.
We turn now to consider the concept of an intervention for causal relations in a classical mechanical setting. We show that an intervention is constrained by the thermodynamics of measurement and feedback in open systems.
\section{Classical Interventions}
\label{interventions}
We take interventions to characterise the act of setting a system to a particular state. This is necessarily a two-stage process: we must first \emph{measure} the system and then implement a controlled operation that is conditioned on the outcome of this measurement. More simply, in order to set a variable to a particular state, one must first know its current state, and one can then determine the requisite control map. Thus, we will need labels to specify the kind of measurement and the measurement result, as well as labels to specify the type of control map. Intervention thus defined is necessarily asymmetric as the control map must act after the measurement.
The measurement result is generically denoted by $x$ (which could stand for multiple real variables), and $k$ characterises the kind of measurement {\em and} the nature of the intervention. A simultaneous measurement of position and momentum as well as a conditional displacement in system momentum might be labelled. Thus, a control map is a Markov map denoted ${\cal S}_{x_k}$ . That is to say $x_1,x_2, \ldots$ are the measurement results for the corresponding measurement-control maps $k=1,2,\ldots$. Of course, the measurement results need not be canonical variables. For example, we may choose to measure only the kinetic energy of a mechanical system, which is a quadratic function of momentum. However, as all measurements may be regarded as simultaneous measurements of position and momentum followed by some sort of coarse graining, we restrict our attention to such canonical variables.
The measurement is completely characterised by a measurement kernel $M(x|q,p)$, where $x$ are the results of the measurement and $(q,p)$ are the canonical coordinates of the system. The probability density for the measurement result, and thus for the intervention itself, is given by
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}(x) =\int dqdp M(x|q,p)\mathrm{P}^s(q,p)
\end{equation}
where $\mathrm{P}^s(q,p)$ is the state of the system prior to the intervention.
The conditional state of the system, given the measurement result, $x$, is
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}^s(q,p|x) =\frac{M(x|q,p)\mathrm{P}^s(q,p)}{\mathrm{P}(x)}.
\end{equation}
We define a conditional control map by the Markov map with the stochastic kernel $C(q,p,|q',p',x)$. The {\em conditional} system state, after the intervention, is given by
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}_c^s(q,p|x)=\left (\mathrm{P}(x)\right )^{-1}\int dq'dp'\ C(q,p|q',p', x)M(x|q',p')\mathrm{P}^s(q',p')
\end{equation}
Thus, the intervention is completely characterised by the stochastic kernels $C(q,p|q',p', x)$ and the measurement kernel $M(x|q',p')$ corresponding to the control map and the measurement map respectively. The probability distribution for the intervention $\mathrm{P}(x)$ is given by
\begin{eqnarray}
\label{cl-intervention-prob}
\mathrm{P}(x) & = & \int dqdp dq'dp' C(q,p|q',p', x)M(x|q',p') \mathrm{P}^s(q',p')\\
& = & \int dqdp dq'dp' S(q,p|q',p',x) \mathrm{P}^s(q',p')\\
& = & || {\cal S}_x \mathrm{P}^s||
\end{eqnarray}
with the $L^1$ norm on phase space.
Finally, to complete the description, we can compute the {\em unconditional} system state after the intervention:
\begin{equation}
\bar{\mathrm{P}}^s(q,p)=\int dxdq'dp'\ C(q,p|q',p' ,x)M(x|q',p')\mathrm{P}^s(q',p').
\end{equation}
In general, the intervention takes many system states to one particular unconditional system state. If we keep a record of both the measurement result and the control map applied, then the intervention is reversible. Typically, however, interventions are labelled only by the final desired state. In this sense, the intervention is irreversible: we cannot determine what state we started with after the intervention has taken place if we discard the measurement result. The intervention removes correlations between the system after the intervention and earlier states. This arises due to the act of measurement itself which requires that the system be strongly coupled to a low entropy apparatus. Our ignorance of the pre-intervention state of the \emph{system} is itself due to unmodelled features of the environment (internal or external) as suggested in Section~\ref{classical}.
\section{Thermodynamics of Interventions in Classical Mechanics}\label{thermodynamics}
We take the view that a control map, taking a conditional state resulting from a measurement to the desired state after the intervention, must also be implemented in a completely mechanical fashion by acting on the system with mechanical forces. Given this constraint, it is clear that an intervention can be regarded as a problem in classical stochastic control. Once this is realised, the question of optimality can be considered.
Two distinct intervention maps ${\cal S}_x$ and ${\cal R}_x$ such that
\begin{equation}
\int dq' dp'S(q,p|q',p',x)\mathrm{P}^s(q',p') = \int dq' dp'R(q,p|q',p',x)\mathrm{P}^s(q',p')
\end{equation}
are equivalent. Note that, if two interventions are equivalent, then
\begin{equation}
||{\cal S}_x\mathrm{P}^s||= ||{\cal R}_x\mathrm{P}^s|| = \mathrm{P}(x).
\end{equation}
Thus, if two interventions are equivalent, the corresponding conditional states they result in are~identical.
Is there any way to choose between equivalent interventions? In real physical systems, some may be more difficult to implement than others. Indeed, some may be impossible. How can we quantify the difficulty (or even the feasibility) of achieving a given intervention? We shall approach this question by considering if there are any important thermodynamic constraints on possible interventions.
As an example, consider interventions on a single free particle in thermal equilibrium. The~mathematical details of this example are given in Appendix~\ref{SA1}, where we give an explicit model of a measurement on a free particle in terms of its interaction with another physical system, the~apparatus. The state of the apparatus is assumed to be entirely under our control, while the state of the system is unknown. Here we summarise those results. The intervention objective is to control the momentum so that it is highly localised on $p=0$. We will assume that initially the particle is in thermal equilibrium at temperature $T$ so that the state is given by a Gaussian distribution in momentum with mean zero and variance $\Delta=k_BT$. Suppose now we make a measurement of momentum, with a Gaussian measurement kernel with momentum variance $\sigma$. As shown in Appendix~\ref{SA1}, this uncertainty is determined by the uncertainty in the state of the apparatus. Let the result of the measurement be $x$. The conditional state of the system, given $x$, is a Gaussian with mean $E(p|x)=x(C-1)/C$ and variance $V(p|x)=\Delta/C$, where $C=1+\Delta/\sigma$. For a very accurate measurement, $\sigma <<\Delta $ so that $C >>1$. In fact, with the limit of no added measurement noise, $\sigma\rightarrow 0$ and $C\rightarrow \infty$; the uncertainty in the system momentum in the conditional state vanishes, resulting in a perfectly accurate measurement. In~other words, in order to make the measurement, an agent must prepare the entropy of the apparatus to be much less than the entropy of the system to be measured (Appendix~\ref{SA1}). This asymmetry is required for an accurate measurement.
A simple intervention protocol is obvious: subject the particle to an impulsive force to shift the mean momentum by $p_0=-x(C-1)/C$. The final state is a Gaussian, with mean momentum zero and a variance of $\Delta/C$. The average energy of the displaced state is due entirely to the momentum fluctuations and is $\Delta/(2mC)$.
The intervention comes with an energy cost. The work done by the control protocol is $p_0^2/2m$. This is a random variable as the result of the measurement is a random variable. The average work done {\em on} the system over a large number of trials is
\begin{equation}
\bar{W}= \frac{\Delta}{2m}\left (\frac{C}{C-1}\right ),
\end{equation}
and the change of the average energy of the system, after the intervention, is
\begin{equation}
\Delta\bar{U} = -\frac{\Delta}{2m}\left (\frac{C-1}{C}\right ).
\end{equation}
As $C= 1+\Delta/\sigma$, this is negative. In the case of a perfect intervention, $C\rightarrow \infty$ and $\Delta\bar{U}=-\bar{W}$.
We define the efficiency of the intervention as
\begin{equation}
\eta =\frac{|\Delta\bar{U}|}{\bar{W}}.
\end{equation}
In the Gaussian model we are considering, the efficiency is given by
\begin{equation}
\eta=\left (\frac{C-1}{C}\right )^2,
\end{equation}
which is always less than unity and tends to unity in the limit of $C\rightarrow \infty $ for perfect interventions.
In general, this is an upper bound as the control process that shifts the momentum may add noise unlike the simple conservative displacement we have assumed above. This could occur if the memory that stores the measurement result is subject to errors through its interaction with an unknown environment. If the shift increases the variance, along with a systematic reduction in the kinetic energy, the intervention effectively heats the system and does
work on it.
In the previous model, a perfect intervention is only possible if the entropy of the apparatus is zero, $\sigma\rightarrow 0$, prior to measurement. This means that the measurement apparatus (and its memory which stores the measurement to enable an intervention) must have had zero entropy prior to the intervention~\cite{Jacobs}. In other words, the measurement apparatus must have been cooled using a zero temperature heat bath. In reality we do not have access to a zero temperature heat bath, and we must prepare the state of the measurement apparatus (including the memory) by a finite process that reduces its entropy as best as we can. The measurement result has a finite probability of being in error even if the interaction between the system and apparatus is perfectly reversible. Interventions are necessarily irreversible process as far as the sub-system intervened upon is concerned. This kind of causal asymmetry, the asymmetry introduced by interventions, is underwritten by the third law of thermodynamics and clearly physically unavoidable.
The change in entropy between the final and initial system distributions is
\begin{equation}
\Delta S=-\frac{1}{2}\ln(C)\ ,
\end{equation}
which is negative. On the other hand, the average mutual information is
\begin{equation}
\bar{I}= \frac{1}{2}\ln(C)\ .
\end{equation}
We can put these results into a more general context for a classical feedback processes by using the stochastic thermodynamics with feedback considered by Sagawa and Ueda~\cite{sagawa1,sagawa2}. After the measurement, we let the system return to thermal equilibrium at the initial temperature. In this example, we find that the change in free energy of the system
\begin{equation}
\Delta F = -\frac{\Delta}{2m}\left (\frac{C-1}{C}\right )+\frac{k_BT_s}{2}\ln(C).
\end{equation}
During this process, we can extract work $\bar{W}_{ext}$ such that
\begin{equation}
\bar{W}_{ext}\leq -\Delta F+k_BT_s\bar{I}=\frac{\Delta}{2m}\left (\frac{C-1}{C}\right ).
\end{equation}
If we compare this to the average work done on the system by the intervention, we see that, in general, $\bar{W}_{ext} \leq \bar{W}$ with equality only in the case of a perfect intervention $C\rightarrow \infty$.
Let us return to the question of an optimal intervention starting with an initial thermal momentum distribution. These two interventions are equivalent:
\begin{itemize}
\item A Gaussian measurement that reduces the momentum variance to $\Delta$ followed by a conservative shift to average zero momentum.
\item A more accurate Gaussian measurement that reduces the momentum variance to $\Delta-\mu$ followed by a noisy shift
that increases
the variance to $\Delta$ and shifts the average momentum to zero.
\end{itemize}
The corresponding intervention kernels are
\begin{eqnarray}
S_1(q,p|q',p',p_0) & = & \delta(p'-p-p_0) M_1(p_0|p') \\
S_2(q,p|q',p',p_0) & = & (2\pi\mu)^{-1/2}e^{-(p'-p-p_0)^2/2\mu}M_2(p_0|p')
\end{eqnarray}
where the measurement kernels are defined by
\begin{equation}
M_k(p_0|p) = (2\pi\sigma_k)^{-1/2}e^{-p^2/2\sigma_k}
\end{equation}
where
\begin{eqnarray}
\sigma_1 & = & \left [\frac{1}{\Delta}-\frac{1}{mk_BT}\right ]^{-1} \\
\sigma_2 & = & \left [\frac{1}{\Delta-\mu}-\frac{1}{mk_BT}\right ]^{-1}.
\end{eqnarray}
However, the second intervention requires more energy on average by the intervention control process, so the
corresponding intervention map is less efficient than the first. See Appendix~\ref{SA2}.
\section{Quantum Open Systems}\label{quantum}
We now consider causal interventions in the quantum case. As with the classical case, we~first consider the source of causal asymmetry in the absence of interventions. Let us return to the simple collision model in a quantum description. There are two equivalent ways to proceed: via the Heisenberg picture or via the Schr\"{o}dinger picture. This mirrors the Langevin versus the Einstein picture in the classical case. We will begin with the Schr\"{o}dinger picture.
The quantum scattering theory for a two particle collision of this kind is known, but we do not need it here. A simple model that captures the key features of the classical collision can be defined using a quantum variant of the classical model with elastic internal degrees of freedom, called the auxiliary system. The initial state is taken as
\begin{equation}
|\Psi_i\rangle =|\psi\rangle_a\otimes|\phi\rangle_b\otimes|0\rangle_c
\end{equation}
where $|\psi\rangle_a$ and $|\phi\rangle_b$ are arbitrary single particle states, and $|0\rangle_c$ is a fiducial initial state for the auxiliary system.
We define the interaction between the particles and the auxiliary system by the pair of unitaries
\begin{eqnarray}
U & = & \exp[\frac{i}{\hbar}\hat{Q} (\hat{p}_b-\hat{p}_a)]\\
V & = & \exp[-\frac{i}{\hbar}\hat{P} (\hat{q}_b-\hat{q}_a)]
\end{eqnarray}
where $\hat{Q},\hat{P}$ are operators on the auxiliary system such that $[\hat{Q},\hat{P}]=i\hbar$. We will now define the fiducial state $|0\rangle_c$ in the diagonal basis of $\hat{P}$:
\begin{equation}
|0\rangle_c =\int_{-\infty}^{\infty} d\epsilon {\cal A}(\epsilon)|\epsilon\rangle_c
\end{equation}
where $\hat{P}|\epsilon\rangle_c =\epsilon|\epsilon\rangle_c$.
The total state after the interaction is defined by $|\Psi\rangle_f= VU|\Psi\rangle_i$ and can be shown to be
\begin{equation}
|\Psi_f\rangle = \int_{-\infty}^{\infty} d\epsilon\ dp dp' {\cal A }(\epsilon-(p'-p))\psi(p+\epsilon)\phi(p'-\epsilon)|p\rangle_a\otimes|p'\rangle_b\otimes|\epsilon\rangle_c,
\end{equation}
assuming ${\cal A}(\epsilon)= {\cal A}(-\epsilon)$.
It is easily seen that this model conserves total momentum of particle $a$ and particle $b$.
A special case occurs for ${\cal A }(\epsilon-(p'-p))=\delta(\epsilon-(p'-p))$. Integrating over $\epsilon$, we see that the state of the two particles factors out as
\begin{equation}
|\psi_f\rangle_{ab} = |\phi\rangle_a\otimes|\psi\rangle_b.
\end{equation}
This is a perfect state swap and of course it is unphysical as it requires preparing the auxiliary system in an eigenstate of $\hat{P}$, which is physically impossible; a consequence of the uncertainty principle for $\hat{Q}$ and $\hat{P}$. In the physically realistic case, the two particles remain entangled with the auxiliary system after the interaction. The degree of entanglement depends on the extent of delocalisation of the initial wave-function ${\cal A}(\epsilon)$, equivalently, how well defined the variable $\hat{Q}$ is in the initial state. The~fact that the final total physical state is bi-partite entangled (two-particle system $\times$ internal system) implies that we cannot reverse time on the two-particle subsystem alone and maintain positivity of the total state, as this is equivalent to partial transposition on the two-particle subsystem~\cite{Simon}. Only global time reversal is physically permitted. This would suggest, when we limit our focus to the two particle sub-system, it is not only our ignorance of the state of the unmodelled internal degrees of freedom but~also the uncertainty principle that serves as the source of causal asymmetry in the quantum case.
We can calculate the reduced state of the two-particle system by tracing out the auxiliary system. This is given by
\begin{equation}
\label{unconditional-collision}
\rho_{ab,f}=\int_{-\infty}^\infty\ d\epsilon\ e^{-i\epsilon(\hat{q}_b-\hat{q}_a)/\hbar}\hat{{\cal A}}(\epsilon-(\hat{p}_b-\hat{p}_a))\ \rho_{ab,i}\ \hat{{\cal A}}^\dagger(\epsilon-(\hat{p}_b-\hat{p}_a))e^{i\epsilon(\hat{q}_b-\hat{q}_a)/\hbar}
\end{equation}
where in this case the initial pure state is $\rho_{ab,i}= |\psi\rangle_a\langle\psi|\otimes|\phi\rangle_b\langle\phi|$. This has a direct interpretation as a measurement and control operation on the two-particle system: the internal degree of freedom is first coupled via $\hat{U}$, $\hat{P}$ is measured, and the momentum difference between the two particles is then shifted
using $\hat{V}$ by the measured result.
We can also interpret this model in the Heisenberg picture in which states are unchanged and operators are transformed by $U^\dagger V^\dagger \hat{A} VU$. For example, $\hat{p}_{a,f}= \hat{p}_{b,i}+\hat{P}_i$. If we choose the state of the auxiliary system so that $\langle \hat{P}_i\rangle =0$, then, on average, $\langle \hat{p}_{a,f}\rangle = \langle \hat{p}_{b,i} \rangle$, as we expect from the classical analogy. On the other hand, the auxiliary system always adds noise as we see by calculating the~variances
\begin{equation}
\langle \Delta \hat{p}_{a,f}^2\rangle = \langle \Delta \hat{p}_{b,i}^2\rangle +\langle \Delta\hat{P}_i^2\rangle.
\end{equation}
Only in the unphysical case of the auxiliary system prepared in an eigenstate of $\hat{P}_i$ are the states completely swapped between input and output.
In the quantum case, the probability distribution for measurement results $x\in \Re$ are given by
\begin{equation}
P(x) = {\rm tr}[ \rho\hat{E}(x)]
\end{equation}
with $\rho$ the density operator representing the state of the particle and $\hat{E}(x)$ is a positive operator such that $\int_{-\infty}^\infty dx \hat{E}(x) =1$. We can thus write
\begin{equation}
\hat{E}(x)= \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger (x)\hat{\Upsilon}(x).
\end{equation}
The conditional state of the particle after measurement, given the result $x$, is
\begin{equation}
\label{q-meaasurement-conditional}
\rho_{|x }= \frac{\hat{\Upsilon}(x) \rho \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger (x)}{P(x)},
\end{equation}
while the unconditional state of the measured particle is given by
\begin{equation}
\rho' = \int_{-\infty}^{\infty} dx \hat{\Upsilon}(x) \rho \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger (x).
\end{equation}
An example for the case of position measurements is given in~\cite{CavesMil87}.
\section{Quantum Interventions}
\label{quantum-interventions}
The simplest intervention is a quantum version of the measure and control
protocol of the classical case. Given the measurement result $x$, we apply a conditional unitary to the measured system. Thus,~the system
state after the control intervention is given by
\begin{equation}
\rho_{|x}= \frac{U(x)\hat{\Upsilon}(x) \rho \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger (x)U^\dagger(x)}{P(x)}.
\end{equation}
The corresponding unconditional state is
\begin{equation}
\rho'= \int dx U(x)\hat{\Upsilon}(x) \rho \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger (x)U^\dagger(x).
\end{equation}
Note that the order of the conditional unitary and the measurement operator is important as they may not commute and it is essential that the feedback control term acts after the measurement result. An example of this is the two-particle model described in the previous section, as is evident from Equation (\ref{unconditional-collision}). In a more general setting, the control transformations are not necessarily unitaries but any CPTP map so that
\begin{equation}
\rho_{|x}= {\cal E}(x)\left [\frac{\hat{\Upsilon}(x) \rho \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger (x) }{P(x)}\right ].\
\end{equation}
For example, after the measurement, the system may be permitted to come into thermal equilibrium with a reservoir at a temperature that depends on $x$.
In analogy with the classical case, we will define an intervention map by the completely positive one-parameter map:
\begin{equation}
{\cal S}(x)\rho ={\cal E}(x)\left (\hat{\Upsilon}(x) \rho \hat{\Upsilon}^\dagger(x)\right )
\end{equation}
where $x$ is a real valued random variable and the corresponding probability of this particular intervention~is
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}(x) = {\rm tr}[{\cal S}(x)\rho ].
\end{equation}
This is the quantum analogue of Equation (\ref{cl-intervention-prob}).
\section{Thermodynamics of Quantum Interventions}
\label{q-interventions}
A quantum intervention as we have defined it is constrained by the thermodynamics of measurement and feedback~\cite{sagawa1,sagawa2, Rudolph}. As an example, we will consider a binary measurement on a simple harmonic oscillator.
First, consider a measurement that simply asks if a particle moving in a quadratic potential, centred on the origin, is on the left of the origin or on the right? This kind of measurement is used in the Szilard engine model for a gas in a cylinder.
Such a measurement can be described by the measurement operators~\cite{khosla}:
\begin{equation}
\hat{M}_{\pm}=\frac{1}{2}\left [1\mp i\frac{(\lambda+i\hat{q})}{\sqrt{\lambda^2+\hat{q}^2}}\right ]
\end{equation}
where the parameter $\lambda$ controls how closely this corresponds to a measurement of the sign of the displacement (see below).
The probabilities of the measurement results are determined by
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}(\pm)={\rm Tr}[\hat{M}^\dagger_{\pm}\hat{M}_{\pm}\rho]
\end{equation}
where
\begin{equation}
\hat{M}^\dagger_{\pm}\hat{M}_{\pm}=\frac{1}{2}\left [1\pm \frac{\hat{q}}{\sqrt{\lambda^2+\hat{q}^2}}\right ].
\end{equation}
In the limit $\lambda\rightarrow 0$, this approaches a measurement of the sign of the displacement from equilibrium. Clearly $\hat{M}^\dagger_{+}\hat{M}_{+}+\hat{M}^\dagger_{-}\hat{M}_{-}=1$.
It is easy to see that, when acting on energy eigenstates,
\begin{equation}
\hat{M}_{\pm}|n\rangle=\frac{1}{2}(|n\rangle \pm |\psi_n\rangle) \equiv \frac{1}{\sqrt{2}}|\phi_n^{\pm}\rangle
\end{equation}
where $|\psi_n\rangle$ is a parity eigenstate with eigenvalue $(-1)^{n+1}$; that is to say, it has the opposite parity to $|n\rangle$, and the unitary parity operator is defined $\hat{\Pi}=e^{-i\pi a^\dagger a}$, with $a,a^\dagger$ the usual raising and lowering operators for the oscillator. Thus, $|n\rangle$ and $|\psi_n\rangle$ are orthogonal for every $n$. The states, $|\phi_n^{\pm}\rangle$, are not orthogonal, as
\begin{equation}
\langle \phi_m^+| \phi_n^+\rangle= \delta_{m,n}+g_n(\lambda)(\delta_{m,n+1}+\delta_{m,n-1})
\end{equation}
where $g_n(\lambda)=\langle n|[\mu^2+(a+a^\dagger)^2]^{-1/2}|n\rangle$ and
$\mu=\lambda/\sqrt{\Delta_0}$, and $\Delta_0$ constitutes the rms fluctuations of position in the oscillator ground state.
The average displacement in the conditional states, $|\phi_n^{\pm}\rangle$, is given by
\begin{equation}
\langle \phi_n^{+}|\hat{q}|\phi_n^{+}\rangle =-\langle \phi_n^{-}|\hat{q}|\phi_n^{-}\rangle=\frac{1}{2}(\langle n|\hat{q}|\psi_n\rangle+\langle \psi_n|\hat{q}|n\rangle).
\end{equation}
The conditional states are located on opposite sides of the origin as expected. The average energy in the conditional states is
\begin{equation}
\hbar\omega \langle \phi_n^{\pm}|a^\dagger a|\phi_n^{\pm}\rangle=\frac{\hbar\omega}{2}(n+\langle \psi_n|a^\dagger a|\psi_n\rangle).
\end{equation}
Thus, the measurement on average adds energy, $\Delta E_n=\langle \psi_n|a^\dagger a|\psi_n\rangle$, to the measured system. This~is a direct consequence of the uncertainty principle as the conditional states have reduced uncertainty in displacement. This energy is supplied by the measurement apparatus itself or, more~precisely, by~the classical field that controls the coupling of the apparatus to the system.
If the harmonic oscillator is initially in a thermal state at temperature $T$, the unconditional state after the measurement is
\begin{equation}
\rho'=\frac{1}{2}\sum_{n=0}^\infty p_n [|\phi_n^+\rangle \langle \phi_n^+|+|\phi_n^-\rangle \langle \phi_n^-|],
\end{equation}
with $p_n=(1+\bar{n})^{-1} [\bar{n}/(1+\bar{n})]^n$ and the average excitation number for an oscillator in thermal equilibrium with a bath at temperature $T$ is $\bar{n} =(\exp(\beta \hbar\omega )-1)^{-1}$, where $\beta^{-1}=k_BT$. This is an equal mixture of two states which each separately have the same entropy equal to the thermal Shannon entropy $H({p_n})$. As one bit is required to specify the components of the mixture, the total entropy of the unconditional state is $S(\rho')=H({p_n})+k_B\ln 2$. The extra bit of information is the mutual information between the system and the memory.
As an example of an intervention we will use the unity parity operator as the feedback operator: if the result of the measurement is $+$, do nothing; else apply the parity operator. The state after the intervention is thus
\begin{equation}
\rho_f= \sum_{n=0}^\infty p_n |\phi_n^+\rangle \langle \phi_n^+|,
\end{equation}
which has one bit of entropy less than the post-measurement unconditional state, while one bit of entropy is stored in the control apparatus. As the parity operator simply represents free evolution of the oscillator over one period, the feedback does not change the average energy of the state. Thus, after the intervention the change in the average energy of the state due to the intervention is simply
\begin{equation}
\overline {\Delta E}= \sum_{n=0}^\infty \Delta E_n
\end{equation}
where $\Delta E_n=\langle \psi_n|a^\dagger a|\psi_n\rangle$.
This additional energy can be estimated using the uncertainty principle. The average energy of a simple harmonic oscillator is bounded by the variance of the canonical variables,
\begin{equation}
\bar{E} \leq \frac{V(\hat{p})}{2m}+\frac{m\omega^2}{2} V(\hat{q})
\end{equation}
where $m$ is the mass of the particle and $\omega$ the frequency of oscillator. For a thermal state, this becomes an equality
\begin{equation}
\bar{E}=(2\bar{n}+1)\hbar\omega/2
\end{equation}
where $\bar{n}$ is the average thermal population of the oscillator energy eigenstates. A measurement of which side of the origin the particle is on will reduce the variance in position by a factor of $\gamma<1$. The~variance in momentum will necessarily increase by at least a factor of $1/\gamma$. Thus, the energy bound increases to
\begin{equation}
\bar{E}\leq(2\bar{n}+1)\frac{\hbar\omega}{2}(\gamma+\frac{1}{\gamma}).
\end{equation}
Supposing that $\gamma <1/2$, we see that, after the intervention, the average energy increase of the oscillator~is
\begin{equation}
\overline{\Delta E}\leq(2\bar{n}+1)\frac{\hbar\omega}{4}.
\end{equation}
At high temperatures, this becomes $\overline{\Delta E}\leq k_BT/2\leq k_BT \ln 2$.
We now ask for the change in free energy when the state $\rho_f$ is allowed to return to thermal equilibrium by interacting with a heat-bath at temperature $T$. This is described by the CP map
\begin{equation}
{\cal E}(\rho)= \sum_{n=0}^\infty \sigma_n^\dagger \rho \sigma_n
\end{equation}
where the set of lowering operators is defined, for each $n$, by $\sigma _n=|n\rangle\langle \psi_n|$. The entropy is unchanged and the energy of the system changes by $-\Delta E$. Thus, the change in free energy of the system is $\Delta F_s = -\Delta E$. The maximum amount of work, $W_{ext}$, that can be extracted during this thermalisation is constrained by $W_{ext}\leq \Delta E$. As in the classical case, the amount of work that can be extracted is less than the amount of energy supplied by the intervention. However, in this case, this energy is required by the uncertainty principle that links the accuracy of a coarse-grained measurement of position of the system to the uncertainty in momentum of the system. At high temperatures, the uncertainty principle argument of the preceding paragraph shows that
$W_{ext}\leq k_BT\ln 2$. That is to say, the maximum amount of work that can be extracted by letting the system, post-intervention, return to thermal equilibrium is bounded by the erasure cost of the memory of the intervention. We could simply have extracted work by letting the memory return to thermal equilibrium instead.
\section{Conclusions}
We have defined an intervention for both classical and quantum systems in terms of a stochastic control operation. Necessarily this requires that an agent partitions the world into system of interest and everything else (internal or external) which is to be treated as an environment. If such interventions are used to discover causal relations, the causal data in both the classical and quantum context have the same status: they are experimental measurement data. In both the classical and quantum case, we have argued that no measurement can be perfectly accurate as no laboratory system can ever be completely isolated from its environment. Using simple, but physically reasonable examples, we have illustrated that the known thermodynamics of control operations constrains possible interventions in both the classical and the quantum case. In particular, we have shown how unique quantum features such as entanglement and the uncertainty principle ensure that these constraints are satisfied in the quantum case.
Our work highlights a possible answer to an interesting question: is the source of causal asymmetry between cause and effect simply the act of intervention itself? Intervention based on measurement and control requires a local low-entropy agent. The reversibility of dynamical laws suggests the possibility that agent-based interventions are required to endow a causal model with directionality. Indeed, many philosophers would consider that causation should be regarded as an explicitly agent-dependent notion: without interventions, causality simply disappears, leaving only the temporally symmetric dynamical laws in play. An alternative perspective, however, states that physical systems can possess causal properties in the absence of the interventions used to reveal them~\cite{Pearl}. Our view is somewhere between these two extremes: it is the temporally symmetric laws of physics that underwrite the agent-based interventions through which asymmetric causal relations are~discovered.
While we have focussed exclusively on causal interventions, our approach indicates a feature of causal relations in general. The description of general measurements suggests that the relation between system and apparatus is analogous to that between cause and effect. Given that all physical interactions are reciprocal, what distinguishes the system and apparatus is the lower entropy of the apparatus. For an accurate measurement to be possible, the \emph{a priori} entropy of the apparatus must be less than that of the system. This suggests that causal relations built on reversible physical interactions require a local entropy gradient between cause and effect prior to interventions. This latter conjecture lends support to the hypothesis that causal structure is an agent-independent but contingent property of the world, and interventions merely provide the epistemic route to causal discovery. This challenges accounts of causation that prefer to reduce causation to agency.
\vspace{6pt}
\subsection*{Acknowledgments}
This research was supported by the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for Engineered Quantum Systems (project ID CE170100009).
\section*{Appendix A}
In this appendix, we give an explicit example of a measurement based intervention for Gaussian states. In the case of one degree of freedom, these take the form
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}(q,p) =\left (4\pi^2\det\Delta\right )^{-1/2}\exp\left [-\frac{1}{2}(\vec{u}-\vec{u}_0)\Delta^{-1}(\vec{u}-\vec{u}_0)^T\right ]
\end{equation}
where we have defined the vector $\vec{u}= (q,p)$ and $\vec{u}_0=(E(q), E(p))$,
while the covariance matrix, $\Delta$,~is~defined by $
\Delta_{ij} =E(u_iu_j)-E(u_i)E(u_j)
$ for simplicity let us assume that there are no correlations between position and momentum $E(qp)-E(q)E(p)=0$.
For the measurement model discussed in Section \ref{interventions}, we only require the marginal distributions for the momentum canonical variable. We thus take the system state before the measurement to be
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}^s_i(p) =\int dq P^s_i(q,p) dp = \left (2\pi \Delta\right )^{-1/2} \exp\left [-\frac{(p-p_0)^2}{2\Delta}\right ],
\end{equation}
while for the apparatus we take
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}^i_a(x) = \left (2\pi \sigma\right )^{-1/2} \exp\left [-\frac{x^2}{2\sigma}\right ].
\end{equation}
The total system-apparatus marginal distribution after the measurement can be defined by a shift map on the apparatus as
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}^{s,a}= \mathrm{P}^i_a(x-\mu p)\mathrm{P}^s_i(p).
\end{equation}
This describes a conservative interaction between system and apparatus. Thus, the measurement kernel is $M(p|x)=\mathrm{P}^i_a(x-\mu p)$.
The reduced state of the apparatus after the interaction with the measurement apparatus is then given by a Gaussian with mean
\begin{equation}
E(x) =\mu p_0
\end{equation}
and variance
\begin{equation}
V(x) \equiv E(x^2)-E(x)^2=\sigma+\mu^2 \Delta.
\end{equation}
Thus, the mean of this distribution is proportional to the mean of the prior distribution for the system momentum, while the variance is the sum of the variance in the apparatus state and a rescaled variance of the prior system momentum variance. If the prior state of the meter is well defined so that $\sigma\rightarrow 0$, the measurement statistics are the same as the prior momentum distribution of the system with a rescaling by $\mu$. We can thus regard $\sigma$ as the noise added by the measurement apparatus. This is an important point: to effect a good measurement, the entropy of the apparatus must be much less than the entropy of the measured system. This asymmetry is explicitly introduced by whatever agent is preparing the apparatus prior to making the measurement.
The marginal distribution of the system momentum for the {\em conditional} state of the system, given a measurement record $x$, is also a Gaussian with mean and variance given
\begin{eqnarray}
E(p|x) & = &p_0+\frac{C-1}{C}(x/\mu-p_0) \\
V(p|x) & = & \Delta/C
\end{eqnarray}
where
\begin{equation}
C= 1+\frac{\mu^2\Delta}{\sigma}.
\end{equation}
Note that the variance changes in a deterministic way while the change in the average is a random variable, as $x$, the measurement result, is a random variable. As $C>1$, we see that the variance of the momentum in the conditional system state of the system is always reduced. In the limit of no added measurement noise, $\sigma\rightarrow 0$ and $C\rightarrow \infty$; the uncertainty in the system momentum in the conditional state vanishes: a perfectly accurate measurement.
The average mutual information between the apparatus and the system is defined by
\begin{equation}
\bar{I}= \int dp \mathrm{P}(p)\int dx \mathrm{P}(x|p)\ln \left (\frac{\mathrm{P}(x|p)}{\mathrm{P}(p)}\right ).
\end{equation}
Using
\begin{eqnarray}
\mathrm{P}(x|p) & = & (2\pi\sigma)^{-1/2} e^{-(x-p)^2/2\sigma}\\
\mathrm{P}(x) & = & (2\pi(\Delta+\sigma))^{-1/2} e^{-x^2/(2(\sigma+\Delta))}\\
\mathrm{P}(p) & = & (2\pi\Delta)^{-1/2}e^{-p^2/2\Delta},
\end{eqnarray}
we find that $\bar{I}= \frac{1}{2}\ln C$.
\section*{Appendix B}
We define a noisy shift in momentum is defined by a convolution kernel. Let the initial distribution be a Gaussian
conditionally centred on the measurement result $p_0$:
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}_i(p|p_0)= (2\pi\Delta)^{-1/2}e^{-(p-p_0)^2/2\Delta}.
\end{equation}
After the noisy shift, the final distribution is
\begin{equation}
\mathrm{P}_f(p) = \int_{-\infty}^{\infty} (2\pi\mu)^{-1/2} e^{(p'-p-p_0)^2/2\mu}\mathrm{P}_i(p'|p_0).
\end{equation}
This is a Gaussian with zero mean and variance $\Delta+\mu$.
In this case, the intervention must not only change the average momentum of the particle but must `heat' it so as to increase the
variance in momentum. Thus the change in energy of the system is
\begin{equation}
\overline{\Delta E}=\frac{p_0^2}{2m}+\frac{\mu}{2m}.
\end{equation}
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{"url":"https:\/\/math.stackexchange.com\/questions\/1168297\/which-of-the-followings-have-a-fixed-point","text":"# Which of the followings have a fixed point? [duplicate]\n\nConsider the following sets :\n\n$$S=\\left\\{(x,y)\\in \\mathbb R^2:x^2+y^2=1\\right\\}.$$\n\n$$D=\\left\\{(x,y)\\in \\mathbb R^2:x^2+y^2\\le 1\\right\\}.$$\n\n$$E=\\left\\{(x,y)\\in \\mathbb R^2:2x^2+3y^2\\le 1\\right\\}.$$\n\nWhich of the following are correct ?\n\n(a) If $f:D\\to S$ is continuous then $f$ has a fixed point.\n\n(b) $f:S\\to S$ is continuous then $f$ has a fixed point.\n\n(c) If $f:E\\to E$ is continuous then $f$ has a fixed point.\n\nWe know from Brouwer's fixed point theorem , \" A continuous mapping of a closed & convex set into itself necessarily has a fixed point. \"\n\nFrom this theorem we have , option (c) is correct & option (b) is wrong.\n\nBut what about options (a) ?\n\nAre there any theorem for a continuous function from one set to another set have to a fixed point?\n\n## marked as duplicate by mechanodroid, Xam, rogerl, Trevor Gunn, NosratiNov 5 '17 at 16:16\n\n\u2022 for a) note that $S\\subset D$ and $D$ is closed and convex \u2013\u00a0Surb Feb 27 '15 at 19:37\n\u2022 So what? It is NOT clear to me...Please explain.... \u2013\u00a0Empty Feb 27 '15 at 19:39\n\u2022 Is it more clear in my answer? \u2013\u00a0Surb Feb 27 '15 at 19:40\n\u2022 Here are more fixed points theorems: en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/\u2026 \u2013\u00a0Surb Feb 28 '15 at 19:20\n\na) note that $S\\subset D$ and $D$ is closed and convex. So $f(D)\\subset S\\subset D$ and you can apply the Theorem.\nb) depends on the function, e.g. $f(x)=x$ or $f$ is a rotation around the origin.\n\u2022 I have a last question..Are there any necessary or sufficient condition for a continuous function $f:X\\to Y$ to have a fixed point? where $X$ & $Y$ are any arbitrary two spaces, not necessarily $Y\\subset X$ \u2013\u00a0Empty Feb 27 '15 at 19:52","date":"2019-08-18 14:02:08","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.773206353187561, \"perplexity\": 385.6801600570915}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2019-35\/segments\/1566027313889.29\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20190818124516-20190818150516-00105.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
\section{Introduction}
Infra-red (IR) dualities are the phenomenon by which two different quantum field theories (QFTs) describe the same physics at long distances. When non-trivial, dualities are an extremely powerful tool to understand the non-perturbative dynamics of QFTs. For instance, one theory could flow to strong coupling in the IR, while the other could be weakly coupled or even IR-free: in this case the latter solves the IR physics of the former. When both theories flow to the same interacting conformal field theory (CFT), dualities realize the idea of universality. In this case, one QFT could develop quantum symmetries at long distances because of strong coupling, and such emergent symmetries could be revealed by the second QFT in which they are manifest at all energies.
Dualities are familiar in two space-time dimensions, and are abundant among supersymmetric (SUSY) theories in two, three and four dimensions. On the other hand, dualities become rare without supersymmetry in more than two space-time dimensions (not because they do not exist, but rather because they are difficult to find and to corroborate).
However, the state of the art in three space-time dimensions has drastically changed in the last few years. A convergence of ideas from the condensed matter literature (\textit{e.g.}{} \cite{Peskin:1977kp, Dasgupta:1981zz, Barkeshli:2014ida, Son:2015xqa, Wang:2015qmt, Potter:2015cdn, Wang:2016gqj}), the study of Chern-Simons-matter theories in the large $N$ limit (\textit{e.g.}{} \cite{Aharony:2011jz, Giombi:2011kc, Aharony:2012nh, Jain:2013gza}), the bulk of knowledge about SUSY dualities (\textit{e.g.}{} \cite{Intriligator:1996ex, deBoer:1996mp, Aharony:1997bx, Aharony:1997gp, Giveon:2008zn, Benini:2011mf}) and the careful analysis of Abelian Chern-Simons-matter theories \cite{Karch:2016sxi, Murugan:2016zal, Seiberg:2016gmd}, has led to the proposal of infinite families of non-supersymmetric dualities \cite{Aharony:2015mjs, Hsin:2016blu, Metlitski:2016dht, Aharony:2016jvv, Komargodski:2017keh} between Chern-Simons (CS) gauge theories coupled to matter fields in the fundamental representation---bosonic on one side and fermionic on the other side. For that reason they are sometimes called ``bosonization dualities''. Various other dualities have been found as well, including multiple gauge groups \cite{Karch:2016aux, Jensen:2017dso} or matter in other representations \cite{Gomis:2017ixy}. Other works elaborating on the dualities are \cite{Gur-Ari:2015pca, Kachru:2016aon, Benini:2017dus, Wang:2017txt, Chen:2017lkr, Gaiotto:2017tne, Jensen:2017xbs, Armoni:2017jkl, Cordova:2017vab, Aharony:toappear}.
In this paper we propose new non-supersymmetric IR dualities in three space-time dimensions, between Chern-Simons-matter theories with both scalar and fermionic matter fields in the fundamental representation.%
\footnote{Dualities between CS-matter theories with a single fundamental scalar and fermion in the large $N$ limit were proposed and analyzed in \cite{Jain:2013gza}.}
Succinctly, we propose the following dualities:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\label{summary dualities I}
SU(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$} \\
USp(2N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad USp(2k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$} \\
SO(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad SO(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$}
\eea
as well as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{summary dualities II}
U(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2, k-\frac{N_f}2 \pm N} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2, -N + \frac{N_s}2 \mp k} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$} \;.
\ee
We propose the $SU/U$ and $U/U$ dualities in the range of parameters $N_s \leq N$, $N_f \leq k$ and $(N_s, N_f) \neq (N,k)$; the $USp$ dualities in the range $N_s \leq N$, $N_f \leq k$; the $SO$ dualities in the range $N_s \leq N$, $N_f \leq k$ and $N_s + N_f + 3 \leq N+k$. Although we have not analyzed this point in full details, it appears that these ranges can be extended, along the lines of \cite{Komargodski:2017keh}, by invoking quantum phases with a condensate of the fermion bilinear and spontaneous symmetry breaking.
Let us explain our notation in (\ref{summary dualities I})-(\ref{summary dualities II}). We indicate the gauge group and in subscript its CS level. The latter gets contribution from the bare CS level in the Lagrangian, which is always integer, and the regularization of the fermion determinant. As in \cite{Seiberg:2016rsg}, we write the Lagrangian of a complex Dirac fermion $\psi$ coupled to a $U(1)$ gauge field $A$ as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_A \psi
\ee
and use a regularization of the fermion determinant%
\footnote{Specifically, the regularized fermion determinant is the exponential of the eta invariant, see the very clear exposition in \cite{Witten:2015aba}. On the other hand, we implicitly use a Yang-Mills regulator for the gauge sector.}
such that, when integrating out the fermion with a positive mass we are left with a vanishing Lagrangian, while negative mass leads to a CS term at level $-1$ (as well as a gravitational CS term, defined in Appendix~\ref{app: level-rank dualities}):
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
- \frac1{4\pi} AdA -2 \text{CS}_g \;.
\ee
Thus, the bare CS level is $k$ on the left-hand-side (LHS) and $-N+N_s$ on the right-hand-side (RHS) of (\ref{summary dualities I}). In (\ref{summary dualities II}) the first and second subscripts refer to the CS levels for the $SU$ and $U(1)$ part of the gauge group---see (\ref{U_k1,k2 Lagrangian})---and $U(N)_k \equiv U(N)_{k,k}$.
We indicate scalar fields as $\phi$ and fermionic fields as $\psi$; in all cases they transform in the fundamental representation of the gauge group, which is complex $N$-dimensional for $SU(N)$ and $U(N)$, pseudo-real $2N$-dimensional for $USp(2N)$ and real $N$-dimensional for $SO(N)$. On the LHS there are $N_s$ scalars and $N_f$ fermions,%
\footnote{According to the property of the gauge representation, we count Dirac fermions for $SU$, $U$ and $USp$, and Majorana fermions for $SO$.}
while the opposite is true on the RHS. The theories include all relevant couplings that are compatible with the global symmetries preserved by the gauging (specified in the corresponding Sections), in particular they include quartic scalar couplings as well as mixed couplings quadratic both in the scalars and in the fermions.
There are two obvious quadratic relevant deformations that are compatible with all symmetries: a ``diagonal'' mass term for all scalars, schematically $m_\phi^2 |\phi|^2$, and a diagonal mass term for all fermions, $m_\psi \bar\psi \psi$. For generic values of the masses the theories are either completely gapped, possibly with topological order described by a topological quantum field theory (TQFT), or can develop Goldstone bosons. As we tune the couplings we find lines with interesting phase transitions, that we can conjecture be described by conformal field theories (CFTs). Those lines will meet at one or more multi-critical fixed points. On the other hand, the transitions could be first order instead of second order---then the dualities are less interesting. This, however, would not change much our discussion. A schematic structure of the phase diagrams is in Figure \ref{fig: masks}. There, a grey area covers the deep quantum region of the phase diagram where it is hard to understand the detailed structure;%
\footnote{For instance, when four lines come together, one could expect two tri-critical points connected by an intermediate transition line. Given the structure of the phase diagram presented in this paper, one could try to identify those tri-critical points. On the other hand, one could envision the possibility that the required two tri-critical points and intermediate gapless line do not exist, and thus the four lines are forced to meet at a single point. Or first-order transitions could be involved. We leave this question for future work.}
only in a few cases we will be able to make sharp predictions.
The conjectured dualities have very interesting implications. In various cases they predict the emergence of time-reversal and parity invariance quantum-mechanically in the IR, or the emergence of other internal global symmetries (assuming the transitions are second order). In some cases the dualities predict that the IR physics decouples into two or more separate CFTs (typically a Wilson-Fisher fixed point and some free fermions).
We subject the dualities to various checks. We study their consistency under massive deformations, and verify that they reduce to the dualities with a single matter species \cite{Aharony:2015mjs, Hsin:2016blu, Aharony:2016jvv} and to the level-rank dualities of spin-Chern-Simons theories. We couple the theories to background gauge fields and keep into account their counterterms---as well as the counterterm for the gravitational field. This allows us to gauge part of the global symmetry and generate new dualities, as well as to test the proposed ones. We spell out the map of the simplest monopole operators in the unitary case.
In the last Section we derive new Abelian dualities combining the dualities in \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd}. We find the following:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
U(1)_0 \stackrel{\rule{0pt}{.7em}^\text{\Large$\curvearrowright$}}{\text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$}} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad \stackrel{\rule{0pt}{.7em}^\text{\Large$\curvearrowright$}}{U(1)_0 \text{ with 2 $\psi$}} \\
U(1)_1 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad \stackrel{\rule{0pt}{.7em}^\text{\Large$\curvearrowright$}}{U(1)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$}} \\[.3em]
U(1)_2 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_{-1} \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \\[.6em]
U(1)_\frac32 \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} &\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$}
\eea
where $V_\text{EP}$ is an ``easy plane'' quartic scalar potential that further breaks the global symmetry. The circular arrows indicate a self-duality.
The dualities in the first line were already reported in \cite{Motrunich:2003fz, Xu:2015lxa, Karch:2016sxi, Hsin:2016blu, Benini:2017dus, Wang:2017txt}. More details are in Section \ref{sec: Abelian dualities}.
The paper is organized as follows. In Sections \ref{sec: SU/U duality}, \ref{sec: U/U duality}, \ref{sec: USp duality} and \ref{sec: SO duality} we present the $SU/U$, $U/U$, $USp$ and $SO$ dualities, respectively. We describe the faithful global symmetry, the couplings, the phase diagram, the coupling to background fields and the map of monopole operators. We also give some simple examples in each case. In Section \ref{sec: Abelian dualities} we present new Abelian dualities. We conclude in Section \ref{sec: conclusions}. In Appendix \ref{app: summary} we summarize the dualities with a single matter species, while in Appendices \ref{app: charge conjugation} and \ref{app: spinc} we give more details on our notation.
\section{\matht{SU/U} duality}
\label{sec: SU/U duality}
The first duality we consider involves Chern-Simons gauge theories with unitary and special unitary groups, as well as bosonic and fermionic matter in the fundamental representation, which is complex. We propose the following duality:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{SU/U duality grav}
SU(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} \quad\longleftrightarrow\quad U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2}\text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1
\ee
for
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
N \geq N_s \;,\qquad k \geq N_f \;,\qquad (N,k) \neq (N_s, N_f) \;.
\ee
We indicate scalar fields as $\phi$ and fermionic fields as $\psi$, and in this case they are both complex. Thus the theory on the LHS has $N_s$ scalars and $N_f$ fermions in the fundamental representation, while the theory on the RHS has $N_f$ scalars and $N_s$ fermions. On the RHS, $U\big(k(N - N_s)\big)_1$ is a trivial spin-TQFT \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd} not coupled to matter, which represents the gravitational coupling $-2k(N-N_s) \text{CS}_g$ (see Appendix \ref{app: level-rank dualities} for our conventions).
This proposal reproduces the boson/fermion dualities of \cite{Aharony:2015mjs, Hsin:2016blu} for $N_s=0$ or \mbox{$N_f=0$}, \textit{i.e.}{} when we take a single matter species, as well as the level-rank dualities when $N_s = N_f = 0$. We summarize those dualities, for reference, in Appendix \ref{app: summary}. Our proposal also agrees with \cite{Jain:2013gza} where the case $N_s = N_f =1$ was studied in the large $N,k$ limit. In the following we will assume $N_s,N_f\geq 1$.
On both sides of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) there is a manifest global symmetry $SU(N_s) \times SU(N_f) \times U(1)^2 \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$: each $SU$ factor acts on one matter species, one $U(1)$ acts anti-diagonally on scalars and fermions, the other $U(1)$ is baryonic on the LHS and magnetic on the RHS, while $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is charge conjugation (see Appendix \ref{app: charge conjugation} for our notation). We will be more precise in Section~\ref{sec: faithful symmetry} and show that the symmetry that acts faithfully on gauge-invariant operators is in fact
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{faithful symmetry SU/U}
G = \frac{U(N_s) \times U(N_f)}{\mathbb{Z}_N} \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \;.
\ee
The case of gauge group $SU(2) \cong USp(2)$ is special and is analyzed in detail in Section~\ref{sec: case of SU(2)}, however (\ref{faithful symmetry SU/U}) is still true. On both sides of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) we include all gauge-invariant relevant operators compatible with those symmetries. Let us list them in the $SU$ theory. First, there are the quadratic mass terms
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{mass terms}
|\phi|^2 = \phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\alpha I} \;,\qquad\qquad \bar\psi\psi = \bar\psi_{\alpha B} \psi^{\alpha B}
\ee
where $\alpha=1,\dots,N$ is in the fundamental of $SU(N)$, $I=1,\dots, N_s$ is in the fundamental of $SU(N_s)$ and $B=1,\dots, N_f$ is in the fundamental of $SU(N_f)$. Then there are the quartic scalar couplings
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{quartic scalar terms}
\big( \phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\alpha I} \big)^2 \;,\qquad\qquad \phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\alpha J} \phi^\dag_{\beta J} \phi^{\beta I} \;.
\ee
The fermionic quartic couplings are irrelevant in the UV, and we will assume that they remain such in the IR.
Finally, there are mixed scalar-fermion quartic couplings:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{def mixed couplings}
\mathcal{O}_\text{d} = \big( \phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\alpha I} \big) \big( \bar\psi_{\beta A} \psi^{\beta A} \big) \;,\qquad\qquad \mathcal{O}_\text{m} = \phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\beta I} \bar\psi_{
\beta A} \psi^{\alpha A} \;.
\ee
Both $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ and $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ are marginal at the UV free fixed point. In the 't~Hooft large $N$ and $k$ limit (with $N/k$ fixed), the operator $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ gets a large IR anomalous dimension $\Delta_\text{d} = 4 + \mathcal{O}\big( \frac 1N \big)$ in the critical boson theory, namely in the scalar theory deformed by the first (and possibly the second) operator in (\ref{quartic scalar terms}) and with a single tuning to set the scalar mass to zero. The presence of the fermions and of gauge interactions does not change this conclusion. Hence this operator is irrelevant in the IR. On the contrary, $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ does not get anomalous dimension at leading order in $N$, $\Delta_\text{m} = 3 + \mathcal{O}\big( \frac 1N \big)$, in the critical boson and regular fermion theory (with both scalar and fermion masses tuned to zero). In the following we will assume that $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ is present in the IR (at least when it exists as an operator independent from $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$): as we will see, its presence in the two theories (with a very specific sign for its coefficient) is crucial for the duality to work. On the contrary, even though we expect $\mathcal{O}_d$ to be marginally irrelevant in the UV, its presence in the theories would not modify our discussion and so we will not make assumptions about it.
The operators $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ and $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ also behave differently when $\phi$ gets a vacuum expectation value (VEV). Indeed $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ gives a uniform mass to all fermions in the theory, while $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ only gives mass to those components that are not charged under the unbroken gauge group (but uniformly across the flavors).
Let us mention that also sextic scalar couplings, schematically $|\phi|^6$, similarly to $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ are marginal in the UV free theory but are expected to be irrelevant and not to modify the discussion in the IR (at least as long as their coefficients are positive) because we are not tuning the quartic couplings.%
\footnote{See \cite{Aharony:toappear} for a large $N$ analysis of CS-matter theories where the quartic scalar coupling is tuned.}
For generic values of the parameters, both theories in (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) are either completely gapped or reduce to Goldstone bosons. We can study the phase diagram as we vary the mass terms for the couplings $m_\phi^2 |\phi|^2$ and $m_\psi \bar\psi \psi$ in (\ref{mass terms}). Along lines where one function of $m_\phi^2$ and $m_\psi$ is tuned, we reproduce the Chern-Simons gauge theories with one matter species, either scalars or fermions, involved in the dualities of \cite{Aharony:2015mjs, Hsin:2016blu} and conjectured to have a non-trivial IR fixed point. Those lines correspond to tuning either the IR scalar or fermion mass to zero, respectively. Classically (or in the 't~Hooft large $N$ limit \cite{Jain:2013gza}) those lines meet at a multicritical IR fixed point, that we indicate as $m_\phi^2 = m_\psi =0$. In the full quantum theory, we do not know whether all gapless lines meet at a single point, or whether they form a more intricate net---possibly involving first-order transitions. Only in a few cases we will find indications of the first scenario. Leaving such a central region aside, we will study the phase diagrams in detail below.
\subsection{The faithful global symmetry}
\label{sec: faithful symmetry}
Let us find the symmetry group $G$ that acts faithfully on gauge-invariant operators, for both theories in (\ref{SU/U duality grav}). This analysis will be independent of the duality, and valid for all values of $N,k,N_s, N_f$.
Consider first the theory on the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}). The faithfully-acting symmetry is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{faithful symmetry LHS}
SU(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with } N_s\, \phi,\, N_f\, \psi : \qquad\qquad G = \frac{U(N_s) \times U(N_f)}{\mathbb{Z}_N} \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \;.
\ee
The $\mathbb{Z}_N$ quotient is generated by $\big( e^{2\pi i /N} \mathbbm{1}, e^{2\pi i /N} \mathbbm{1} \big)$, and it corresponds to the center of $SU(N)$. Then $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is charge conjugation (see Appendix \ref{app: charge conjugation} for details). When $k = \frac{N_f}2 \in \mathbb{Z}$ the theory has also time-reversal invariance $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$. The case $N=2$ deserves more attention, and is treated in Section~\ref{sec: case of SU(2)}, however the conclusion is the same.
Next consider the theory on the RHS: $U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with } N_f\, \phi,\, N_s\, \psi$. The theory has charge conjugation symmetry $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ (for $N = \frac{N_s}2 \in \mathbb{Z}$ it also has $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$ time-reversal invariance), so let us write
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with } N_f\, \phi,\, N_s\, \psi: \qquad\qquad G = \widehat G \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \;. \qquad\qquad
\ee
The theory has a magnetic symmetry $U(1)_M$ and the bare CS level for the gauge group is $N_s - N$, therefore monopole operators of magnetic charge $1$ have charge $(N_s - N)$ under the diagonal $U(1) \subset U(k)$. Since fundamentals have charge 1 under that $U(1)$, the symmetry group is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{symmetry RHS}
\widehat G = \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s) \times U(1)_M}{U(1)_*} \qquad\qquad U(1)_* = \big( e^{2\pi i \alpha}, e^{2\pi i \alpha}, e^{2\pi i (N_s-N)\alpha} \big)
\ee
with $\alpha \in [0,1)$. For $N_s \neq N$ we can use $U(1)_*$ to remove $U(1)_M$. Thus we can write
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\widehat G = \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_{| N-N_s |}} \quad\text{for } N_s \neq N \;,\qquad \widehat G = \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{U(1)} \times U(1)_M \quad\text{for } N_s = N
\ee
where in the second expression the quotient is by the diagonal $U(1)$.
To compare with the symmetry (\ref{faithful symmetry LHS}) of the theory on the LHS, we notice that there is an isomorphism
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{symmetry isomorphism I}
\frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_{|n|}} \cong \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_{|n+N_f|}} \cong \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_{|n+N_s|}}
\ee
for $n\in\mathbb{Z}$, where each expression is valid when the order of the group in the denominator is not zero. To exhibit the isomorphism we parametrize $\big( U(N_f) \times U(N_s) \big)/\mathbb{Z}_{|n|}$ as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\Big( g \in SU(N_f) ,\; u \in U(1),\; h \in SU(N_s),\; w \in U(1) \Big)
\ee
with the identifications
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\label{old identifications}
(g,u,h,w) & \;\sim\; \Big( e^{2\pi i/N_f} g,\; e^{-2\pi i /N_f} u,\; h,\; w \Big) \;\sim\; \Big( g,\; u,\; e^{2\pi i/N_s} h,\; e^{-2\pi i /N_s} w \Big) \\
& \;\sim\; \Big( g,\; e^{2\pi i/n} u,\; h,\; e^{2\pi i /n} w \Big) \;.
\eea
The isomorphism is given by
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
(u,w) \;\mapsto\; \Big( \tilde u = u^{\frac{n}{n+N_f}},\; \tilde w = w \, u^{-\frac{N_f}{n+N_f}} \Big)
\ee
which is well-defined thanks to the identifications. It maps (\ref{old identifications}) to the identifications for $\big( U(N_f) \times U(N_s) \big)/\mathbb{Z}_{|n+N_f|}$. If $n=N_f$, the identifications (\ref{old identifications}) can be reorganized such that $u$ describes $U(1)/\mathbb{Z}_{N_f} \cong U(1)'$, while $\big( g,h,t = \frac wu \big)$ describe $\big( U(N_f) \times U(N_s) \big)/U(1)$. Thus we also have the isomorphism
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{symmetry isomorphism II}
\frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{U(1)} \times U(1)' \cong \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_{N_f}} \cong \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_{N_s}} \;.
\ee
Using the two isomorphisms, the symmetries agree on the LHS and RHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}).
More directly, we can start from (\ref{symmetry RHS}) and rewrite $U(N_f) \cong \big( U(1) \times SU(N_f) \big)/\mathbb{Z}_{N_f}$ and similarly for $U(N_s)$. We can use $U(1)_*$ to remove the $U(1)$ inside $U(N_s)$. Then we use an $N$-fold multiple cover $U(1)_B$ of $U(1)_M$, meaning that there is a projection map $\pi:U(1)_B \to U(1)_M$ that maps $e^{i\beta} \to e^{iN\beta}$, and we can write $U(1)_M = U(1)_B/\mathbb{Z}_N$. This is natural from the point of view of the duality, because the monopole of charge 1 in the RHS is mapped to a ``baryon'' of charge $N$ in the LHS. We obtain
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\widehat G &= \frac{U(1) \times SU(N_f) \times SU(N_s) \times U(1)_B}{\mathbb{Z}_{N_f} \times \mathbb{Z}_{N_s} \times \mathbb{Z}_N} \qquad & \mathbb{Z}_{N_f}: & \big( e^{2\pi i /N_f}, e^{-2\pi i /N_f}, 1, 1 \big) \\
&& \mathbb{Z}_{N_s}: & \big( e^{-2\pi i /N_s}, 1,e^{-2\pi i / N_s}, e^{2\pi i /N_s} \big) \\
&& \mathbb{Z}_N : & \big( 1,1,1,e^{2\pi i /N} \big)
\eea
where we have indicated the generators of the quotient groups. We parametrize $U(1) \times U(1)_B$ as $\big( e^{2\pi i \gamma}, e^{2\pi i \beta} \big)$ and change coordinates to $U(1)'' \times U(1)_B = \big( e^{2\pi i (\gamma+\beta)}, e^{2\pi i \beta} \big)$. We find \mbox{$\widehat G = \frac{U(1)'' \times SU(N_f) \times SU(N_s) \times U(1)_B}{\mathbb{Z}_{N_f} \times \mathbb{Z}_{N_s} \times \mathbb{Z}_N}$} and the quotient is generated by \mbox{$\mathbb{Z}_{N_f}: \big( e^{2\pi i /N_f}, e^{-2\pi i /N_f}, 1, 1 \big)$}, \mbox{$\mathbb{Z}_{N_s}: \big( 1, 1,e^{-2\pi i / N_s}, e^{2\pi i /N_s} \big)$} and \mbox{$\mathbb{Z}_N : \big( e^{2\pi i /N} ,1,1,e^{2\pi i /N} \big)$}. Finally we use $\mathbb{Z}_{N_f} \times \mathbb{Z}_{N_s}$ to form $U(N_f) \times U(N_s)$ and recover
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\widehat G = \frac{U(N_f) \times U(N_s)}{\mathbb{Z}_N} \qquad\qquad \mathbb{Z}_N : \big( e^{2\pi i /N}, e^{2\pi i /N} \big)
\ee
as on the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}).
For $N_s=0$ or $N_f=0$ the analysis here reproduces the result in \cite{Benini:2017dus}.
\subsubsection[The case of $SU(2)$]{The case of \matht{SU(2)}}
\label{sec: case of SU(2)}
The case of $SU(2)$ gauge group deserves more attention, because $SU(2) \cong USp(2)$. Here we neglect time-reversal symmetry, which is preserved if and only if the CS level is zero.
For $N_s=0$ there are only fermions with no potential. Thus the symmetry of $SU(2)_{k - \frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_f$ $\psi$ is $G = USp(2N_f)/\mathbb{Z}_2$, as manifest in the $USp$ description (Section~\ref{sec: USp duality}).
For $N_f=0$ there are only scalars with a potential. For $N_s=1$ there is only one gauge-invariant quartic coupling we can write, $(\phi_\alpha^\dag \phi^\alpha)^2$, and it preserves $G = USp(2)/\mathbb{Z}_2 \cong SO(3)$.
For $N_s>1$ we write the quadratic gauge invariant
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{O} = \sum_{\alpha=1}^2 \sum_{I=1}^{N_s} |\phi^{\alpha I}|^2 \;.
\ee
In the $USp$ notation, we introduce $\Phi_{\alpha i}$ with $i=1,\dots, 2N_s$ and subject to $\Phi_{\alpha i} \epsilon^{\alpha\beta} \Omega^{ij} = \Phi^*_{\beta j}$, where $\Omega^{ij}$ is the $USp(2N_s)$ invariant tensor. We can set $\phi^{\alpha I} = \Phi_{\alpha I}$ for $I=1,\dots, N_s$ and use the constraint to fix the other components of $\Phi$. Then we define $\mathcal{M}_{ij} = \Phi_{\alpha i} \Phi_{\beta j} \epsilon^{\alpha\beta}$, and it follows that $\mathcal{O} = - \frac12 \Tr \mathcal{M}\Omega$. Since the gauge group $SU(2) \cong USp(2)$ has only rank 1, it is easy to prove that
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\Tr \mathcal{M} \Omega \mathcal{M} \Omega = \frac12 \big( \Tr \mathcal{M} \Omega \big)^2
\ee
for all $N_s \geq 1$. Define the matrix $\mathcal{N}_{\alpha\beta} = \Phi_{\alpha i} \Phi_{\beta j} \Omega^{ij}$. This is a $2\times 2$ antisymmetric matrix, thus it must be $\mathcal{N}_{\alpha\beta} = - \frac12 (\Tr \mathcal{M}\Omega) \epsilon_{\alpha\beta}$. The formula follows. Thus, if we only include the quartic potential
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
V = \mathcal{O}^2 = \frac14 \big( \Tr \mathcal{M} \Omega \big)^2 = \frac12 \Tr \mathcal{M}\Omega \mathcal{M} \Omega
\ee
the theory preserves $G = USp(2N_s)/\mathbb{Z}_2$ symmetry. There are no other quartic couplings we can write that preserve this symmetry.
However, for $N_s>1$ there is another coupling that preserves only \mbox{$G = \big( U(N_s) / \mathbb{Z}_2\big) \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$}, namely
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{extra SU2 scalar coupling}
\phi^{\alpha I} \phi^\dag_{\alpha J} \, \phi^{\beta J} \phi^\dag_{\beta I} \qquad\text{ or }\qquad \phi^{\alpha I} \phi^{\beta J} \epsilon_{\alpha\beta} \, \phi^\dag_{\gamma J} \phi^\dag_{\delta I} \epsilon^{\gamma\delta}
\ee
in $SU(2)$ notation. The two couplings above satisfy a linear relation. Define $\mathcal{P}\ud{\beta}{\gamma} = \phi^{\beta J} \phi^\dag_{\gamma J}$: this is a $2\times 2$ Hermitian matrix that can be decomposed as $\mathcal{P} = c_0 \mathbbm{1} + c_n \sigma_n$, where \mbox{$n=1,2,3$} indicates the three Pauli matrices. Rewriting the couplings in terms of $\mathcal{P}$ one finds $\phi^{\alpha I} \phi^\dag_{\alpha J} \phi^{\beta J} \phi^\dag_{\beta I} - \phi^{\alpha I} \phi^{\beta J} \epsilon_{\alpha\beta} \phi^\dag_{\gamma J} \phi^\dag_{\delta I} \epsilon^{\gamma\delta} = \mathcal{O}^2$. The coupling (\ref{extra SU2 scalar coupling}) is present on the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}), therefore there is no enhanced symmetry for $N_s>1$.
For $N_s,N_f\geq 1$ there is the mixed coupling
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{O}_\text{d} = \big(\phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\alpha I} \big)\big( \bar\psi_{\beta J} \psi^{\beta J} \big) = \frac14 \big( \Tr \mathcal{M}\Omega\big) \, \big( \Tr \mathcal{M}^\Psi \Omega \big) = \frac12 \Phi_{\alpha i} \Phi_{\beta j} \Omega^{ij} \Psi_{\gamma x} \Psi_{\delta y} \Omega^{xy} \epsilon^{\beta\gamma} \epsilon^{\delta\alpha}
\ee
that preserves $G = \big( USp(2N_s) \times USp(2N_f) \big)/\mathbb{Z}_2$. Here $\mathcal{M}^\Psi$ is the gauge-invariant fermion bilinear. The identity follows from the same argument as above, using $\mathcal{N}$ and $\mathcal{N}^\Psi$. There is another coupling that preserves only $G = \big( U(N_s) \times U(N_f) \big)/\mathbb{Z}_2 \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$, namely
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{O}_\text{m} = \phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\beta I} \bar\psi_{\beta X} \psi^{\alpha X} \;.
\ee
This coupling is independent from $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ even for $N_s = N_f = 1$ (while, as before, the coupling $\phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\gamma I} \bar\psi_{\beta X} \psi^{\delta X} \epsilon^{\alpha\beta} \epsilon_{\gamma\delta}$ is not independent). Since $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ is present on the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}), there is no enhanced symmetry for $N_s, N_f\geq 1$ with respect to (\ref{faithful symmetry LHS}).
\subsection{Phase diagram}
We can study relevant deformations of the two theories in (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) that preserve the full symmetry $G = \big( U(N_s) \times U(N_f) \big)/\mathbb{Z}_N \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$. They are described by the operators
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{mass deformations}
m_\phi^2 |\phi|^2 \qquad\text{ and }\qquad m_\psi \bar\psi\psi \;.
\ee
Notice that, in the absence of time-reversal symmetry, the scalar and fermion mass can mix. Our analysis will be classical, therefore valid for large values of the masses compared with the Yang-Mills regulator $g_\text{YM}^2$. As we commented above, we do not know the detailed structure of the phase diagram in the vicinity of the origin $m_\phi^2 = m_\psi = 0$. Nonetheless, we find consistent results with no need to invoke new quantum phases (possibly triggered by spontaneous symmetry breaking) around the origin. (See \textit{e.g.}{} \cite{Komargodski:2017keh, Gomis:2017ixy} for examples where the appearance of quantum phases has been argued, and it is crucial for the dualities to work.)
\begin{figure}[t]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\node at (-2.5,3.2) {LHS:};
\draw [->] (-3,0)--(3,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-3)--(0,3) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-1.5,-1.5)--(0,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-2,0);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.8] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\fill [white] (-.5,2.2) rectangle (.5,2.8) node[midway, black] {$m_\psi>0$};
\node at (2,.35) {$m_\phi^2>0$};
\fill [white] (-.5, -2.3) rectangle (.5,-2.8) node[midway, black] {$m_\psi<0$};
\node at (-2, .35) {$m_\phi^2<0$};
\node [align=center] at (-2.2, -2.2) {$m_\phi^2<0$ \\ $m_\psi<0$};
\draw (1.6,1.6) circle [radius=.3] node {A}; \draw (1.6,-1.6) circle [radius=.3] node {B};
\draw (-.6,-1.4) circle [radius=.3] node {C}; \draw (-1.6,-.6) circle [radius=.3] node {D};
\draw (-1.6,1.6) circle [radius=.3] node {E};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{2}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\node at (-2.8,3.2) {RHS:};
\draw [->] (3,0)--(-3,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-3)--(0,3) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-1.5,-1.5)--(0,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-2,0);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.8] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\fill [white] (-.5,2.2) rectangle (.5,2.8) node[midway, black] {$m_\phi^2>0$};
\node at (2,.35) {$m_\psi<0$};
\fill [white] (-.5, -2.3) rectangle (.5,-2.8) node[midway, black] {$m_\phi^2<0$};
\node at (-2, .35) {$m_\psi>0$};
\node [align=center] at (-2.2, -2.2) {$m_\phi^2<0$ \\ $m_\psi>0$};
\draw (1.6,1.6) circle [radius=.3] node {A}; \draw (1.6,-1.6) circle [radius=.3] node {B};
\draw (-.6,-1.4) circle [radius=.3] node {C}; \draw (-1.6,-.6) circle [radius=.3] node {D};
\draw (-1.6,1.6) circle [radius=.3] node {E};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{Masks for the phases of the various dualities. The phases in circles are either fully gapped (possibly with topological order) or contain Goldstone bosons. The thick blue lines correspond to the tuning of one mass parameter that conjecturally yields extra massless matter. The shaded circle in the middle covers the detailed structure of the phase diagram around the origin, which we do not know precisely.
\label{fig: masks}}
\end{figure}
We propose the following map of operators across the duality:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
|\phi|^2 \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad - \bar\psi\psi \\
\bar\psi\psi \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad \;\;\; |\phi|^2 \;.
\eea
This reproduces the proposal in \cite{Aharony:2015mjs, Karch:2016sxi, Seiberg:2016gmd, Hsin:2016blu} for the case of a single matter species ($N_s=0$ or $N_f=0$) as well as the proposal in \cite{Jain:2013gza} for the case $N_s = N_f=1$ at large $N,k$, and---as we will see---it allows to match the phase diagrams.
We draw a qualitative picture of the two phase diagrams in Figure \ref{fig: masks}. The regions A through E are fully gapped for $N_s<N$ and can contain a Goldstone mode on the LHS for $N_s = N$. The thick lines are critical lines where extra modes become massless, as explained below. For convenience, we use Figure \ref{fig: masks} as a ``mask'' and list the theories that describe the various phases and critical lines in tables, such as Table \ref{tab: SU/U dualities case 1} and \ref{tab: SU/U dualities case 2}. Let us now explain which theories live on the critical lines.
Turning on a mass $m_\psi$ for the fermions, these can be integrated out leaving a Chern-Simons gauge theory coupled to scalars, possibly with shifted CS level due to the fermions. Classically the scalars remain massless; quantum mechanically a mass term will be generated, but with a suitable tuning of the scalar mass in the UV one obtains a fixed line in the phase diagram where the scalars are massless (provided the conjecture in \cite{Hsin:2016blu} is correct). We will keep this tuning implicit.
Similarly, turning on a positive mass $m_\phi^2>0$ for the scalars, these can be integrated out leaving a CS theory coupled to fermions. The fermions are massless along a fixed line in the phase diagram.
Turning on a negative mass $m_\phi^2<0$ for the scalars, the latter condense. Their expectation value breaks the gauge group, and gives mass to all scalars (but possible Goldstone bosons) and some fermions. Let us consider the two sides of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) separately. First consider the LHS: $SU(N)_{k- \frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_s\,\phi$, $N_f\,\psi$. Up to a gauge and flavor rotation, the scalar VEV is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\phi^{\alpha I} \propto \mat{ \mathbbm{1}_{N_s} \\ 0}_{\alpha I}
\ee
for $N > N_s$ (the case $N=N_s$ is similar). All scalars get a mass, either by Higgs mechanism or because of the quartic potential. The gauge group is broken to $SU(N-N_s)_{k - \frac{N_f}2}$. Because of the mixed coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ in (\ref{def mixed couplings}) and since
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\phi^\dag_{\alpha I} \phi^{\beta I} \propto \mat{ \mathbbm{1}_{N_s} & 0 \\ 0 & 0}_{\alpha\beta} \;,
\ee
the $N_s N_f$ fermion components neutral under the unbroken gauge group get a mass. Thus the theory along the critical line is $SU(N-N_s)_{k - \frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_f\,\psi$ in the fundamental representation.
The presence of the mixed coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ is crucial to give mass to the fermion components that are neutral under the unbroken gauge group. Those components are not reproduced by the dual theory in the corresponding phase, and so the duality would not work without $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$. The sign in front of the coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ determines the sign of the mass of the extra fermion components, which in turn determines the shift of the gravitational coupling. Only for one sign this matches the gravitational coupling in the dual, therefore we conclude that the mixed coupling on the LHS must be
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{sign mixed term LHS}
+ \mathcal{O}_\text{m}
\ee
with positive sign.%
\footnote{On the contrary, the coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$---even if present---would not qualitatively change the phase diagram. It would induce an equal mass for all fermions in the Higgsed phase, which would simply mix with the implicit UV tuning of the fermion mass.}
When deforming the LHS with $m_\phi^2<0$, we can at the same time turn on a fermion mass $m_\psi<0$ such that the fermions in the fundamental of $SU(N-N_s)$ are massive while the $N_s N_f$ singlet fermions remain massless. In the IR this gives $N_s N_f$ free fermions, transforming in the bifundamental representation of $U(N_s) \times U(N_f)$, plus the spin-TQFT $SU(N-N_s)_{k-N_f}$ (with suitable gravitational coupling). This is the oblique critical line in Figure \ref{fig: masks}.
Once again, the positive sign in (\ref{sign mixed term LHS}) is crucial for the duality to work. With negative sign, the position of the critical line in the phase diagram would change (it would move in the middle of phase E) and the TQFT would change: both features would not match with the dual description.
The discussion for $U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2}$ with $N_f\,\phi$, $N_s\,\psi$---on the RHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav})---is similar. For $m_\phi^2<0$ (and $N_f \leq k$) the scalar VEV breaks the gauge group to $U(k - N_f)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2}$, all scalars become massive as well as the $N_sN_f$ fermion components that are neutral under the unbroken gauge group. The IR theory is $U(k - N_f)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2}$ with $N_s\,\psi$. The gravitational coupling matches with the dual theory only if the mixed coupling on the RHS is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
- \mathcal{O}_\text{m}
\ee
with negative sign. Turning on both $m_\phi^2<0$ and $m_\psi>0$ one finds another critical line with $N_sN_f$ free fermions plus the spin-TQFT $U(k-N_f)_{-N+N_s}$ (with gravitational coupling).
We can rephrase the condition on the mixed coupling in the following way: The theories involved in the duality (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) have a coupling $\pm\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$, where the sign is the same as that of the CS level. In fact we can apply time reversal to (\ref{SU/U duality grav}), then both the CS level and the coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ change sign.
\begin{table}[ht!]
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.46}\begin{center}
$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{SU(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$}} \text{ (LHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\psi>0: & SU(N)_k \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & \qquad\qquad \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; SU(N)_k \times U(0)_1} \\
m_\phi^2>0: & SU(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; SU(N)_{k-N_f} \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & SU(N)_{k-N_f} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times U(NN_f)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; SU(N-N_s)_{k-N_f} \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0: & N_s N_f\, \psi \times SU(N-N_s)_{k-N_f} \times U\big( (N-N_s) N_f \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; SU(N-N_s)_{k-N_f} \times U\big( (N-N_s)N_f \big)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & SU(N-N_s)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; SU(N-N_s)_k \times U(0)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$ \\[1.5em]
$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1} \text{ (RHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\phi^2>0: & U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \quad \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; U(k)_{-N} \times U(kN)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & U(k)_{-N} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U(kN)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N} \times U(kN)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & U(k-N_f)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U(kN - kN_s + N_fN_s)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s} \times U(kN - kN_s + N_fN_s)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi>0: & N_s N_f\, \psi \times U(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s} \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s} \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1} \\
m_\psi>0: & U(k)_{-N+N_s} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; U(k)_{-N+N_s} \times U\big( k(N-N_s)\big)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$
\end{center}}
\caption{Phase diagram of the $SU/U$ dualities, for $N> N_s$ and $k \geq N_f$.
\label{tab: SU/U dualities case 1}}
\end{table}
\begin{table}[ht!]
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.46}\begin{center}
$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{SU(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$}} \text{ (LHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\psi>0: & SU(N)_k \text{ with $N$ $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & \qquad\qquad\qquad\qquad\;\;\; \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; SU(N)_k \times U(0)_1} \\
m_\phi^2>0: & SU(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; SU(N)_{k-N_f} \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & SU(N)_{k-N_f} \text{ with $N$ $\phi$ } \times U(NN_f)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; S^1 \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0: & N N_f\, \psi \times S^1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; S^1 \times U(0)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & S^1 \times U(0)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; S^1 \times U(0)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$ \\[1.5em]
$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{U(k)_{- \frac N2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N$ $\psi$}} \text{ (RHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\phi^2>0: & U(k)_{-\frac N2} \text{ with $N$ $\psi$} & \qquad\qquad\qquad\qquad \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; U(k)_{-N} \times U(kN)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & U(k)_{-N} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U(kN)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N} \times U(kN)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & U(k-N_f)_{- \frac N2} \text{ with $N$ $\psi$ } \times U(NN_f)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; U(k-N_f)_0 \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi>0: & N N_f\, \psi \times U(k-N_f)_0 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; U(k-N_f)_0 \times U(0)_1} \\
m_\psi>0: & U(k)_0 \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; U(k)_0 \times U(0)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$
\end{center}}
\caption{Phase diagram of the $SU/U$ dualities, for $N = N_s$ and $k \geq N_f$.
\label{tab: SU/U dualities case 2}}
\end{table}
The various phases and critical lines for the SU/U dualities, in the case $N>N_s$ and $k \geq N_f$, are reported in Table \ref{tab: SU/U dualities case 1}. We recall that we assume $N_s, N_f \geq 1$. In the range $N>N_s$ and $k \geq N_f$ there is no (classical) symmetry breaking. The analysis is valid for the two theories in (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) independently of the dualities. In the tables we also indicate the trivial spin-TQFTs $U(n)_1$ that appear in the various phases, both to keep track of the gravitational couplings and to remind ourselves that the claimed dualities involve \emph{spin} theories. Extra observables in the various phases (which provide extra checks of the dualities and help distinguishing massive phases) are the couplings to background fields for global symmetries and the corresponding counterterms: these will be considered in Section~\ref{sec: SU/U coupling to background}.
Comparing the various phases (see Appendix \ref{app: summary}), we find that they are dual for
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
N > N_s \geq 1 \;,\qquad\qquad k \geq N_f \geq 1 \;.
\ee
Notice that for $k = N_f$ (and $N > N_s$) the vertical line in the lower half plane (corresponding to $m_\psi<0$ on the LHS and $m_\phi^2<0$ on the RHS) disappears since it is gapped. We reduce to the duality $SU(N)_0$ with $N_s$ $\phi$ $\leftrightarrow$ $\emptyset$, expressing confinement. Moreover phases $B$ and $C$ are identical.
The phases and critical lines for $N = N_s$ and $k \geq N_f$ are in Table \ref{tab: SU/U dualities case 2}. In that table, $S^1$ refers to a compact Goldstone boson. Comparing the various phases, we find that they are dual for
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
N = N_s \geq 1 \;,\qquad\qquad k > N_f \geq 1 \;.
\ee
Notice that the horizontal line on the left half plane (corresponding to $m_\phi^2<0$ on the LHS and $m_\psi>0$ on the RHS) disappears since it is identical to phases $D$ and $E$ which are described by the $S^1$ Goldstone mode.
Putting together the two cases we find:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{range SU/U}
\text{Range of dualities:}\qquad\quad N \geq N_s \;, \quad k \geq N_f \;,\quad (N,k) \neq (N_s,N_f) \;.
\ee
As we explained before, the cases $N=1$ or $k=1$ are somehow special because the interaction $(\phi\bar\psi)(\psi\bar\phi)$ is not independent from $|\phi|^2 \bar\psi\psi$ and we might expect the latter to be marginally irrelevant in the UV. Moreover, our classical analysis of the phase diagrams kept the tuning of mass terms implicit, and so it should be regarded as a qualitative picture. Finally, it appears to be possible to make sense of the dualities also for larger values of $N_s$ and $N_f$, invoking quantum phases with spontaneous symmetry breaking along the lines of \cite{Komargodski:2017keh} (see also \cite{Gaiotto:2017tne}); we leave the analysis of this possibility for future work.
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(220:1.0) arc (220:185:1.0);
\node at (1.8,.3) {$\psi$}; \node at (-1.5,.3) {$\psi \times S^1$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $O(2)$ WF};
\fill [white] (-.5,-1.6) rectangle (.5,-2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $O(2)$ WF};
\node at (2,1.2) {$U(0)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.2) {$S^1 \times U(0)_1$};
\node at (2, -1.2) {$U(1)_1$}; \node at (-1.8, -1.2) {$S^1 \times U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-.2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-.2,0) arc [radius = 1, start angle = 90, end angle = 135]; \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2.40,-1.78)--(-.90,-.28);
\node at (2,1.2) {$U(0)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.2) {$U(2)_0 \times U(0)_1$};
\node at (1.5, -1.2) {$U(1)_1$}; \node at (-1.2, -2.2) {$S^1 \times U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{$\qquad O(2)$ WF $\times$ $\psi$ $\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad$ $U(2)_{-1/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$. $\quad$ Phase diagram.
\label{fig: O2 WF}}
\end{figure}
\subsection{Some simple examples}
One of the simplest examples is $N=N_s = N_f = 1$, $k=2$:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
O(2) \text{ WF } \times\; \psi \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(2)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \;.
\ee
The gravitational coupling is $U(0)_1$ on both sides.
The theory on the LHS is decoupled in two parts (we know that $(\phi\bar\psi)(\psi\bar\phi) \equiv |\phi|^2 \bar\psi\psi$ is irrelevant): the $O(2)$ Wilson-Fisher fixed point and a free Dirac fermion; such a theory is time-reversal invariant. We summarize the phase diagram in Figure~\ref{fig: O2 WF}. On the left we took into account that the coupling $(\phi\bar\psi)(\psi\bar\phi)$ is not present and moved a gapless line accordingly; hence, on the right we implemented the fact that around the origin the lines should cross perpendicularly, as implied by the duality. This example generalizes to
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
O(2) \text{ WF } \times\; N_f\, \psi \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(k)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, 1 $\psi$}
\ee
with $k>N_f$. Again the gravitational coupling is $U(0)_1$ on both sides.
In these examples the duality predicts that the theory on the RHS, namely $U(k)_{-\frac12}$ with $N_f$ $\phi$, 1 $\psi$ (and $k>N_f$) has a multicritical fixed point where the four lines meet at a single point. At such a multicritical fixed point the IR dynamics factorizes into two critical fixed points (and develops time-reversal invariance quantum mechanically), explaining why four lines meet at a single point.
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,2);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,-.2); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-.2) arc [radius = 1, start angle = 0, end angle = -45]; \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-1.78,-2.40)--(-.28,-.90);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (1.6,.3) {$SU(2)_{1/2} \; \psi$}; \node at (-1.8,.3) {$\psi$}; \node at (-1.9,-2) {$\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {$SU(2)_1 \; \phi$};
\node at (2,1.2) {$SU(2)_1 \times U(0)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (2, -1.2) {$U(2)_1$}; \node at (-1.8, -.8) {$U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(230:1.4) arc (230:265:1.4);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (2,1.2) {$U(1)_{-2} \times U(2)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (1.8, -1.2) {$U(2)_1$}; \node at (-1.8, -1.2) {$U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{$\qquad SU(2)_{1/2}$ with $\phi, \psi$ $\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad$ $U(1)_{-3/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$ $\times\, U(1)_1$. $\;$ Phase diagram. \newline
On both sides we emphasized an emergent time-reversal symmetry (with an anomaly) with respect to the dashed line.
\label{fig: SU2}}
\end{figure}
Another simple example is $k=N_s = N_f = 1$, $N=2$:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{SU(2) U(1)3/2 duality}
SU(2)_{\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \;.
\ee
There is a gravitational coupling $U(1)_1$ on the RHS. The phase diagram is summarized in Figure~\ref{fig: SU2}. On the left we drew a bent line to match the diagram on the right around the origin; on the right we took into account that we expect the coupling $(\phi\bar\psi)(\psi\bar\phi) \equiv |\phi|^2\bar\psi\psi$ not to be present in the IR, and moved a gapless line accordingly. Two of the thick lines in the phase diagram correspond to a free Dirac fermion, while the other two correspond to a CFT (and its time reversal) with $SO(3)$ global symmetry, discussed in \cite{Aharony:2016jvv}.
The theory on the RHS also appears in a $U/U$ duality (see Figure~\ref{fig: U(1)3/2} and the discussion in Section~\ref{sec: U/U duality}) which is part of a family but can also be found by combining the Abelian dualities of \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd} (see Section~\ref{sec: U(1) 3/2 time rev}). The $U/U$ duality implies that the theory develops time-reversal invariance quantum mechanically in the IR, along the line $m_\phi^2 = - m_\psi$. On the other hand, the theory on the LHS can be obtained as a relevant deformation of $USp(2)_\frac12$ with a scalar and a fermion, which in turn appears in a $USp$ duality (see Section~\ref{sec: USp duality}). The duality for the $USp(2)$ gauge theory implies a duality for the $SU(2)$ gauge theory, and the latter implies that the theory on the LHS develops time-reversal invariance around the origin along the line $m_\phi^2 = m_\psi$. As we see here, the two conclusions are compatible with the SU/U duality (\ref{SU(2) U(1)3/2 duality}) that relates the two theories. The predicted time-reversal invariance (with an anomaly) implies a symmetry of the phase diagram around the origin with respect to the dashed line at $45^\circ$. This however is not enough to guarantee that the four lines meet at a single point.
\subsection{RG flows}
\label{sec: RG flows}
We can start from the duality (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) with parameters $(N,k,N_s,N_f)$ and give mass to a single flavor, either a scalar or a fermion. We accompany this deformation with a tuning of the symmetry-preserving mass deformations (\ref{mass terms}) such that the remaining scalars and fermions stay massless. By choosing positive or negative mass, we end up with the same duality as in (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) but with reduced parameters:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{RG flow pattern}
(N,k,N_s,N_f) \to \begin{cases} (N,k, N_s, N_f-1) \qquad & \widetilde m_\psi>0 \\ (N,k-1,N_s, N_f-1) & \widetilde m_\psi<0 \\ (N,k,N_s-1,N_f) & \widetilde m_\phi^2>0 \\ (N-1, k, N_s-1,N_f) & \widetilde m_\phi^2<0 \;. \end{cases}
\ee
We have indicated with a tilde the mass of the single field. The constraint (\ref{range SU/U}) is preserved along the RG flow.
Therefore, the proposed list of dualities is consistent with massive RG flows.
\subsection{Coupling to a background}
\label{sec: SU/U coupling to background}
We are interested in what counterterms for background fields coupled to the global symmetries of the theory should we put on the RHS of the duality, if we set them to zero on the LHS (given that, the counterterms can be shifted by the same amount on both sides). For continuous symmetries, such counterterms modify the contact terms in three-point functions of the currents, which obviously should match across the duality.
In order to understand those counterterms, we simply give mass to the matter fields and compare the phases that we obtain. Coupling to an $SU(N_s) \times SU(N_f)$ background is simple, and the duality with counterterms for those groups takes the form
\begin{multline}
\label{SU/U duality with SU background}
SU(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \times SU(N_s)_{L_s} \times SU(N_f)_{L_f - \frac N2} \text{ with $\phi$ in $(\rep{N}, \rep{N_s}, \rep1)$, $\psi$ in $(\rep{N}, \rep1, \rep{N_f})$} \quad\longleftrightarrow \\
U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \times SU(N_s)_{L_s + \frac k2} \times SU(N_f)_{L_f} \text{ with $\phi$ in $(\rep{k}, \rep1, \rep{N_f})$, $\psi$ in $(\rep{k}, \rep{N_s}, \rep1)$} \;.
\end{multline}
Here the first group is dynamical while the other two are global symmetries coupled to a classical background, and we have indicated their CS counterterms. One can check that both sides give equal counterterms%
\footnote{Level-rank dualities can be used on dynamical fields, but not on background fields.}
in all phases in Figure \ref{fig: masks}.
The coupling to the two $U(1)$ factors, their mapping through the duality and the corresponding counterterms are a bit more involved. To express them in a precise way, we write the duality in a Lagrangian form and explicitly couple the two sides to $U(1) \times U(1)$ background fields $A$ and $B$. The duality reads
\begin{align}
& |D_{b+A}\phi|^2 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{b-A} \psi - \phi^4 - \phi^2\psi^2 + \frac{k}{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb- \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) + \frac1{2\pi} cd\big( B - \Tr_N b \big) \quad\longleftrightarrow \nonumber\\
& |D_{f-A}\phi|^2 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{f+A} \psi - \phi^4 + \phi^2\psi^2 - \frac{N-N_s}{4\pi} \Tr_k \Big( fdf - \frac{2i}3 f^3 \Big) \nonumber\\
&\qquad + \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_k f) d(B + N_s A) + \frac{N_s k}{4\pi} AdA -2 (N- N_s)k \, \text{CS}_g \;.
\label{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}
\end{align}
Here $b$, $f$ and $c$ are dynamical $U(N)$, $U(k)$ and $U(1)$ gauge fields, respectively, while $A$, $B$ are background $U(1)$ gauge fields.%
\footnote{The duality as written in (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) is well-defined on spin manifolds. Since the theories involved in the $SU/U$ and $U/U$ dualities satisfy the spin/charge relation, they can be placed on more general non-spin manifolds with the help of a spin$_c$ connection \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd}. Indeed one could generalize (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) such that it makes sense on non-spin manifolds, along the lines of \cite{Hsin:2016blu}, but we will not do so here.}
The quartic couplings are schematically indicated as $\phi^4$ and $\phi^2\psi^2$, and recall that the potential appears in the Lagrangian as $-V$. The theory on the RHS is a $U(k)$ CS gauge theory at level $-N + \frac{N_s}2$, and the magnetic current couples to $B + N_sA$. On the LHS, instead, we can integrate out $c$ to fix $\Tr b = B$ and thus the theory is an $SU(N)$ CS gauge theory at level $k-\frac{N_f}2$. Notice that when $B=0$ the dynamical gauge field is a standard $SU(N)$ gauge field, but when $B\neq 0$ the dynamical field describes non-trivial $PSU(N)$ bundles with (generalized) second Stiefel-Whitney class equal to $B \mod N$. Substituting back in the Lagrangian, $B$ couples to the ``baryonic'' current giving charge $1$ to the baryons.
It is instructive to check that, upon mass deformations, (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) reproduces the dualities with a single matter species with the correct coupling to a $U(1)$ background and the correct counterterms, that we have summarized in Appendix \ref{app: summary}. For instance, take the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) and deform it with \mbox{$m_\psi>0$}.{} Shifting the dynamical gauge fields as $b \to b - A \mathbbm{1}_N$ and $c \to c - kA$ we get
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{L}_\text{LHS} = |D_b\phi|^2 - \phi^4 + \frac{k}{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb- \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) + \frac1{2\pi} cd\big( B + NA - \Tr_N b \big) - \frac{k}{2\pi} BdA - \frac{Nk}{4\pi} AdA \;.
\ee
Then take the RHS of (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) and deform it with $m_\phi^2>0$. Shifting the dynamical gauge field as $f \to f - A\mathbbm{1}_k$ we get
\begin{multline}
\mathcal{L}_\text{RHS} = i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_f \psi - \frac{N-N_s}{4\pi} \Tr_k \Big( fdf - \frac{2i}3 f^3 \Big) + \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_k f) d(B + N A) - 2(N-N_s) k \, \text{CS}_g \\
- \frac{k}{2\pi} BdA - \frac{Nk}{4\pi} AdA \;.
\end{multline}
The duality between the Lagrangians $\mathcal{L}_\text{LHS}$ and $\mathcal{L}_\text{RHS}$ is precisely the duality in \cite{Hsin:2016blu},%
\footnote{The gauge field $A$ in \cite{Hsin:2016blu} should not be confused with the one here. $A_\text{there}$ is a spin$_c$ connection, that should be set to zero to compare with our formul\ae. On the other hand, $A_\text{here}$ is a regular gauge field which, together with $B$, describes the $U(1) \times U(1)$ background.}
that we reported in (\ref{SU/U duality 1 species background}), up to the fact that the two theories are coupled to a linear combination of the two $U(1)$'s given by $B + NA$ and there are equal extra counterterms on both sides. The case of $m_\phi^2>0$ on the LHS and $m_\psi<0$ on the RHS is similar.
Alternatively, take the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) and deform it with $m_\psi<0$. Shifting the dynamical gauge fields as $b \to b - A \mathbbm{1}_N$ and $c \to c + (2N_f-k)A$ we get
\begin{multline}
\mathcal{L}_\text{LHS} = |D_b\phi|^2 - \phi^4 + \frac{k-N_f}{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb- \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) + \frac1{2\pi} cd\big( B+NA - \Tr_N b \big) \\
-2NN_f\, \text{CS}_g + \frac{2N_f - k}{2\pi} BdA - \frac{Nk}{4\pi} AdA \;.
\end{multline}
Then take the RHS of (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) and deform it with $m_\phi^2<0$. In this case $N_f$ scalars get a VEV, fixing $(f - A \mathbbm{1}_k)\phi = 0$. This means that $f$ breaks into a block $A \mathbbm{1}_{N_f}$ and a block $\tilde f$ of dimension $k-N_f$. Moreover $N_s N_f$ fermions get a negative mass, and they are coupled to $2A$. After shifting the dynamical gauge field as $\tilde f \to \tilde f - A\mathbbm{1}_{k-N_f}$ we get
\begin{multline}
\mathcal{L}_\text{RHS} = i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{\tilde f} \psi - \frac{N-N_s}{4\pi} \Tr_{k-N_f} \Big( \tilde fd\tilde f - \frac{2i}3 \tilde f^3 \Big) + \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_{k-N_f} \tilde f) d(B + N A) \\
-2 \big( N_sN_f+Nk-N_sk\big) \text{CS}_g + \frac{2N_f - k}{2\pi} BdA - \frac{Nk}{4\pi} AdA \;.
\end{multline}
Once again, the duality between $\mathcal{L}_\text{LHS}$ and $\mathcal{L}_\text{RHS}$ is precisely the one in \cite{Hsin:2016blu}, that we reported in (\ref{SU/U duality 1 species background}), up to the fact that the coupling is to $B+NA$ and there are equal extra CS counterterms on both sides. The case of $m_\phi^2<0$ on the LHS and $m_\psi>0$ on the RHS is similar.
Given the duality in (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}) with coupling to the $U(1) \times U(1)$ background, we can produce new dualities by adding CS counterterms on both sides and then making $A$, $B$ or a linear combination of them dynamical. For instance, we can add $\frac1{2\pi} BdC$ on both sides---where $C$ is a new $U(1)$ background field---and then make $B$ dynamical. Integrating out $B$ on one of the two sides, we are left with a duality which is precisely the parity transformed of (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}). This is a consistency check.
More interestingly, we can start with (\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}), add $\frac1{2\pi} BdC \pm \frac1{4\pi} BdB$ on both sides and make $B$ dynamical. The LHS becomes
\begin{multline}
\mathcal{L}_\text{LHS} = |D_{b+A}\phi|^2 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{b-A} \psi - \phi^4 - \phi^2\psi^2 + \frac{k}{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb- \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) \\
\pm \frac1{4\pi} (\Tr_N b) d (\Tr_N b) + \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_N b)dC
\end{multline}
while the RHS becomes
\begin{multline}
\mathcal{L}_\text{RHS} = |D_{f-A}\phi|^2 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{f+A} \psi - \phi^4 + \phi^2\psi^2 - \frac{N-N_s}{4\pi} \Tr_k \Big( fdf - \frac{2i}3 f^3 \Big) \mp \frac1{4\pi} (\Tr_k f)d(\Tr_k f) \\
+ \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_k f)d (\mp C + N_s A) \mp \frac1{4\pi} CdC + \frac{N_s k}{4\pi} AdA - 2 \big( k (N-N_s) \pm 1 \big) \text{CS}_g \;.
\end{multline}
These are two $U/U$ dualities that will be analyzed in more detail in Section~\ref{sec: U/U duality}.
\subsection{Baryonic and monopole operators}
\label{sec: SU/U monopoles}
The $SU(N)$ theory on the LHS of (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) has baryonic operators, which are mapped to monopole operators in the $U(k)$ theory on the RHS. We would like to specify the operator map precisely.
Let us start reviewing how baryonic operators are mapped to monopole operators in the theories with a single matter species \cite{Radicevic:2015yla, Aharony:2015mjs, Aharony:2016jvv}. In $SU(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_f$ $\psi$ the simplest baryonic operators are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{baryons SU(N) psi}
\epsilon_{\alpha_1\ldots\alpha_N} \; \psi^{\alpha_1B_1} \ldots \psi^{\alpha_N B_N} \;.
\ee
The fermions are antisymmetric in the gauge indices $\alpha_i$ and have antisymmetric statistics, therefore they are totally symmetric in the pairs $\big( B_i, \text{spin}_i \frac12 \big)$ where the first entry $B_i$ is a flavor index of $SU(N_f)$ while the second entry is an index for the spacetime spin, that we have always kept implicit in this paper. For instance, if $N_f=1$ then the baryonic operators have spacetime spin $\frac N2$. If $N_f>1$ then there is a baryonic operator with spin $\frac N2$ that transforms in the totally symmetric $N$-index representation of $SU(N_f)$, as well as other baryonic operators whose spin is correlated with the representation under the global $SU(N_f)$ symmetry.
In $U(k)_{-N}$ with $N_f$ $\phi$ the corresponding monopole operators are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{M}_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_N} \; \phi^{\alpha_1B_1} \ldots \phi^{\alpha_N B_N} \;.
\ee
Here $\mathcal{M}$ is a bare monopole operator with monopole charge $1$. Because of Chern-Simons interactions, it transforms in the $N^\text{th}$ symmetric power of the antifundamental of $U(k)$, and to form a gauge invariant it should be multiplied by $N$ scalar fields $\phi$. In the monopole background the ground state of the scalar field $\phi$ has spacetime spin $\frac12$ \cite{Wu:1976ge}: in terms of spin (or monopole) spherical harmonics%
\footnote{The spin spherical harmonics $Y^s_{j,j_3}$ have $j \in \frac12 \mathbb{Z}_{\geq 0}$, $j=s=j_3 \mod 1$, and $|s|, |j_3| \leq j$. They are sections of the line bundle on $S^2$ with first Chern class $2s$, and are eigenfunctions of the covariant Laplacian with eigenvalue $j(j+1)-s^2$ and orbital angular momentum $j$.}
$Y^s_{j,j_3}$, the wavefunctions are $Y^{1/2}_{1/2, \pm1/2}$. The scalars are symmetric in the gauge indices and have symmetric statistics, therefore they are totally symmetric in the pairs $\big( B_i, \text{spin}_i \frac12 \big)$. We see that the quantum numbers of these monopole operators precisely match those of the baryons in (\ref{baryons SU(N) psi}).
In $SU(N)_k$ with $N_s$ $\phi$ the simplest baryonic operators are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{baryons SU(N) phi}
\epsilon_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_N} \; \phi^{\alpha_1 I_1} \ldots \phi^{\alpha_{N_s} I_{N_s}} \; \partial_\bullet \phi^{\alpha_{N_s+1} I_{N_s+1}} \ldots \partial_\bullet\phi^{\alpha_N I_N} \;.
\ee
In this expression we have assumed $N \geq N_s$. Since the gauge indices are antisymmetrized and the scalars have symmetric statistics, we cannot simply take a product of the fields $\phi$. Instead, in order to get a non-vanishing operator, (at least) $N-N_s$ of them should be acted upon by various numbers of derivatives that we have indicated concisely by $\partial_\bullet \equiv \partial_{\mu_1} \dots \partial_{\mu_\ell}$ (see \cite{Shenker:2011zf} for a counting at large $N$). We should remember that the scalars obey (in the free theory) $\partial^2 \phi = 0$. The first flavor indices $I_1, \dots, I_{N_s}$ are totally antisymmetrized and form a singlet of $SU(N_s)$, while the symmetry pattern for the remaining $N-N_s$ is correlated with the spacetime spin in such a way that the pairs $(I_i, \text{spin}_i)$ are antisymmetric.
In $U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2}$ with $N_s$ $\psi$ the corresponding monopole operators are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{M}_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_{N-N_s}} \; \tilde\partial_\bullet \psi^{\alpha_1 I_{N_s+1}} \ldots \tilde\partial_\bullet \psi^{\alpha_{N-N_s} I_N} \;.
\ee
The bare CS term is $-(N-N_s)$, therefore the bare monopole $\mathcal{M}$ transforms in the $(N-N_s)^\text{th}$ symmetric power of the antifundamental representation of $U(k)$, and should be dressed by $N-N_s$ fermion fields $\psi$ to form a gauge invariant. In the monopole background the fermion field $\psi$ has a state of spin zero and a state of spin $1$; we use here the ground states of spin $1$. The fields $\psi$ are symmetric in the gauge indices and have antisymmetric statistics, therefore they are antisymmetrized in the pairs $(I_i, \text{spin}_i)$. The notation $\tilde\partial_\bullet$ indicates some number of derivatives acting on $\psi$. This number can be zero, however each insertion of $\psi$ already carries spin $1$. Therefore we can identify $\partial_\bullet = \tilde\partial_\bullet \partial_\mu$. A more precise statement is that $\psi$ is in a state $Y^1_{j,j_3}$ where $j$ equals the spacetime spin of $\partial_\bullet \phi$. Notice that the harmonic $Y^1_{0,0}$ does not exist, consistently with the fact that we should not take $\partial^2\phi$ in (\ref{baryons SU(N) phi}). We see that the quantum numbers of these monopole operators precisely match those of the baryons in (\ref{baryons SU(N) phi}).
Let us now move to the general case of the duality (\ref{SU/U duality grav}) with $N_s, N_f\geq1$. We can read off the precise mapping of symmetries from (\ref{SU/U duality with SU background})-(\ref{SU/U duality with U(1)2 background}). In $SU(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_s$ $\phi$, \mbox{$N_f$ $\psi$} the simplest baryonic operators are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{baryons I}
\mathcal{B}^{(r)} = \epsilon_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_N} \; \psi^{\alpha_1B_1} \ldots \psi^{\alpha_r B_r} \; \phi^{\alpha_{r+1} I_1} \ldots \phi^{\alpha_{r+N_s} I_{N_s}} \; \partial_\bullet \phi^{\alpha_{r+N_s+1} I_{N_s+1}} \ldots \partial_\bullet \phi^{\alpha_N I_{N-r}}
\ee
for $0 \leq r \leq N-N_s$, and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{baryons II}
\mathcal{B}^{(r)} = \epsilon_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_N} \; \psi^{\alpha_1B_1} \ldots \psi^{\alpha_r B_r} \; \phi^{\alpha_{r+1} I_1} \ldots \phi^{\alpha_N I_{N-r}}
\ee
for $N-N_s \leq r \leq N$. In the first class of baryons the number of fields $\phi$ exceeds $N_s$ and since the flavor indices are antisymmetrized, we should include derivatives to form non-vanishing operators. In the second class the number of $\phi$'s is smaller than $N_s$ and the derivatives are not necessary. The charges of those operators are:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{quantum numbers baryons/monopoles}
\begin{array}{c|ccc}
\mathcal{B}^{(r)} & U(1)_B & U(1)_A & SU(N_s) \times SU(N_f) \times \text{spin} \\[.2em]
\hline \rule{0pt}{1.4em}
0 \leq r \leq N-N_s & 1 & N-2r & \quad \big(\rep{N_s}, \text{spin}\big)^{\otimes_A(N-N_s-r)} \otimes \big(\rep{N_f}, \text{spin}\frac12 \big)^{\otimes_S \, r} \quad \\[.3em]
N-N_s \leq r \leq N & 1 & N-2r & \rep{\overline N_s}^{\otimes_A(r-N+N_s)} \otimes \big( \rep{N_f}, \text{spin}\frac12 \big)^{\otimes_S \, r}
\end{array}
\ee
Here $\rep{N_s}$ and $\rep{N_f}$ refer to the fundamentals of $SU(N_s)$ and $SU(N_f)$, respectively, while $\otimes_S$ and $\otimes_A$ are the symmetric and antisymmetric products. In the first line, ``spin'' refers to the particular spin representation of each term in the product, which depends on the number of derivatives in $\partial_\bullet$ as explained above. In the second line we used $\rep{N_s}^{\otimes_A(N-r)} \cong \rep{\overline N_s}^{\otimes_A(r-N+N_s)}$.
In $U(k)_{-N+\frac{N_s}2}$ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ the bare CS level is $-(N-N_s)$ and therefore the basic bare monopole $\mathcal{M}$ transforms in the $(N-N_s)^\text{th}$ symmetric power of the antifundamental representation under the gauge group. The gauge-invariant monopole operators corresponding to the baryonic operators (\ref{baryons I})-(\ref{baryons II}) are thus
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{monopoles I}
\mathcal{B}^{(r)} = \mathcal{M}_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_{N-N_s}} \; \phi^{\alpha_1 B_1} \dots \phi^{\alpha_r B_r} \; \tilde\partial_\bullet \psi^{\alpha_{r+1} I_{N_s+1}} \dots \tilde\partial_\bullet \psi^{\alpha_{N-N_s} I_{N-r}}
\ee
for $0 \leq r \leq N-N_s$, and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{monopoles II}
\mathcal{B}^{(r)} = \mathcal{M}_{\alpha_1 \ldots \alpha_{N-N_s}} \; \phi^{\alpha_1 B_1} \dots \phi^{\alpha_r B_r} \; \overline\psi_{\alpha_{N-N_s+1} I_1} \ldots \overline\psi_{\alpha_r I_{r-N+N_s}}
\ee
for $N-N_s \leq r \leq N$. In the first class (\ref{monopoles I}) we recall that the fields $\phi$ in the monopole background carry spin $\frac12$, while for the fields $\psi$ we take the ground states with spin $1$ and identify $\partial_\bullet = \tilde\partial_\bullet \partial_\mu$ as before---more precisely each $\psi$ is in a state $Y^1_{j,j_3}$. In the second class (\ref{monopoles II}), instead, for the fields $\overline\psi$ we take the ground state $Y^0_{0,0}$ with spin $0$. In this way we precisely reproduce the quantum numbers in (\ref{quantum numbers baryons/monopoles}).
\section{\matht{U/U} duality}
\label{sec: U/U duality}
The second duality we consider involves Chern-Simons gauge theories with unitary groups, but with a different level for the $SU$ and the $U(1)$ parts, as well as bosonic and fermionic matter in the fundamental representation (which is complex). We propose the following duality:
\begin{multline}
\label{U/U duality grav}
U(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2, k - \frac{N_f}2 \pm N} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow \\
U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2, -N + \frac{N_s}2 \mp k } \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm 1 \big)_1
\end{multline}
for
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U/U duality range}
N \geq N_s \;,\qquad k \geq N_f \;,\qquad (N,k) \neq (N_s, N_f) \;.
\ee
Without matter, the notation $U(N)_{k_1, k_1 + Nk_2}$ represents the Chern-Simons theory with Lagrangian
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U_k1,k2 Lagrangian}
\mathcal{L}_\text{CS} = \frac{k_1}{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb - \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) + \frac{k_2}{4\pi} (\Tr_N b) d (\Tr_N b)
\ee
while $U(N)_k \equiv U(N)_{k,k}$. In (\ref{U/U duality grav}) the bare CS level in the Lagrangian are $k, k\pm N$ on the LHS and $N_s-N, N_s-N\mp k$ on the RHS. The theory on the LHS of (\ref{U/U duality grav}) includes a mixed coupling $+\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ (\ref{def mixed couplings}) in the potential, while the theory on the RHS includes $-\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$. As in Section~\ref{sec: SU/U duality}, those couplings are crucial to reproduce the same phase diagram. On the RHS, the trivial spin-TQFT $U\big(k(N - N_s) \pm1 \big)_1$ represents the gravitational coupling $-2\big( k(N-N_s) \pm1\big) \text{CS}_g$.
\begin{table}[ht!]
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.42}\begin{center}
$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{U(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2, k - \frac{N_f}2 \pm N} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$}} \text{ (LHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\psi>0: & U(N)_{k,k\pm N} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & \qquad\; \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; U(N)_{k,k \pm N} \times U(0)_1} \\
m_\phi^2>0: & U(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2, k - \frac{N_f}2 \pm N} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$ } & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; U(N)_{k-N_f,k - N_f \pm N} \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & U(N)_{k-N_f,k - N_f \pm N} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times U(NN_f)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; U(N-N_s)_{k-N_f,k-N_f \pm(N-N_s)} \times U(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0: & N_s N_f\, \psi \times U(N-N_s)_{k-N_f,k-N_f\pm(N-N_s)} \times U\big(N_f (N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; U(N-N_s)_{k-N_f,k-N_f\pm (N-N_s)} \times U\big( N_f(N-N_s) \big)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & U(N-N_s)_{k - \frac{N_f}2, k - \frac{N_f}2 \pm (N-N_s)} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$ } & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; U(N-N_s)_{k,k\pm (N-N_s)} \times U(0)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$ \\[1.5em]
$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2, - N + \frac{N_s}2 \mp k} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm1 \big)_1 } \text{ (RHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\phi^2>0: & U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2,-N + \frac{N_s}2 \mp k} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm1 \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; U(k)_{-N,-N\mp k} \times U(kN\pm1)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & U(k)_{-N,-N\mp k} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U(kN \pm1)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N,-N \mp(k-N_f)} \times U(kN\pm1)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & U(k-N_f)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2, -N + \frac{N_s}2 \mp (k-N_f)} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U(kN - kN_s + N_fN_s \pm1)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s, -N + N_s \mp(k-N_f)} \times U(kN - kN_s + N_fN_s \pm 1)_1} \\
\makebox[0pt][l]{\raisebox{.7em}[0pt]{$m_\phi^2<0$,}}\raisebox{-.7em}[0pt][0pt]{$m_\psi>0$:} & N_s N_f\, \psi \times U(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s, -N + N_s \mp(k-N_f)} \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm1 \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; U(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s, -N + N_s \mp (k-N_f)} \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm1\big)_1} \\
m_\psi>0: & U(k)_{-N+N_s, -N + N_s \mp k} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm1 \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; U(k)_{-N+N_s, -N + N_s \mp k} \times U\big( k(N-N_s) \pm 1\big)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$
\end{center}}
\caption{Phase diagram of the $U/U$ dualities. These tables are valid for $N_s \leq N$ and $N_f \leq k$.
\label{tab: U/U dualities}}
\end{table}
As noted at the end of Section~\ref{sec: SU/U coupling to background}, this duality can be derived from the $SU/U$ duality. One couples a $U(1)$ global symmetry---the one that is a baryonic symmetry on one side and a magnetic symmetry on the other side---to a gauge field $c$, adds a suitable CS conterterm, and makes $c$ dynamical. Repeating the process, one can conversely derive the $SU/U$ duality from the $U/U$ duality.
The various phases and critical lines for the $U/U$ dualities, in the case $N\geq N_s$ and $k \geq N_f$, are reported in Table \ref{tab: U/U dualities}. Using the dualities in \cite{Hsin:2016blu}, the two phase diagrams match (including the gravitational couplings) in the claimed range of parameters. Notice that for $N = N_s$ (and $k \geq N_f$ on the LHS, or $k > N_f$ on the RHS) the horizontal line in the left half plane (corresponding to $m_\phi^2<0$ on the LHS and $m_\psi>0$ on the RHS) disappears since it is gapped---moreover phases $D$ and $E$ are identical. We reduce for $k>N_f$ to the duality $U(k)_{0,\mp k}$ with $N_f$ $\phi$ $\times \, U(\pm 1)_1 \leftrightarrow U(0)_1$, expressing confinement. The same happens for $k = N_f$ (and $N>N_s$ on the LHS, or $N\geq N_s$ on the RHS): the vertical line in the lower half plane (corresponding to $m_\psi<0$ on the LHS and $m_\phi^2<0$ on the RHS) disappears because it is gapped, and phases $B$ and $C$ coincide.
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(220:1.8) arc (220:185:1.8);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (1.8,1.2) {$U(1)_2 \times U(0)_1$};
\node at (-1.5,1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (1.5, -1.2) {$U(2)_1$};
\node at (-1.0, -1.8) {$U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(230:1.8) arc (230:265:1.8);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (1.8,1.2) {$U(1)_{-2} \times U(2)_1$};
\node at (-1.5,1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (1.5, -1.2) {$U(2)_1$};
\node at (-1.9, -1.1) {$U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{$\qquad U(1)_{3/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$ $\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad$ $U(1)_{-3/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$ $\times\, U(1)_1$. $\quad$ Phase diagram. \newline
We emphasized a quantum time-reversal symmetry (with an anomaly) with respect to the dashed line.
\label{fig: U(1)3/2}}
\end{figure}
The cases $N=N_s$, $k = N_f$ should be studied separately, since the phases in Table \ref{tab: U/U dualities} do not match directly. Consider first the two Abelian cases with $N=N_s = k = N_f = 1$. The case with upper sign is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U(1)3/2 duality}
U(1)_{\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$ } \times U(1)_1 \;.
\ee
The phase diagram is summarized in Figure~\ref{fig: U(1)3/2}, taking into account that there is no independent $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ coupling, while we expect $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ to be irrelevant. The corresponding shift of the critical lines is indicated by arrows. Comparing the gapless lines after such a shift we find:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{scheme deformations U(1)3/2}
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.5}
\begin{array}{ll|ll}
\multicolumn{2}{c|}{U(1)_{3/2} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$}} & \multicolumn{2}{c}{U(1)_{-3/2} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$ } \times U(1)_1} \\
\hline
m_\psi>0: & U(1)_2 \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & m_\phi^2>0: & U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\psi$ } \times U(1)_1 \\
m_\phi^2>0: & U(1)_\frac32 \text{ with $\psi$ } & m_\psi<0: & U(1)_{-2} \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(2)_1 \\
m_\psi<0: & U(1)_1 \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(1)_1 & m_\phi^2<0: & \psi \times U(1)_1 \\
m_\phi^2<0: & \psi & m_\psi>0: & U(1)_{-1} \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(1)_1
\end{array}}
\ee
We find a perfect match, making use of the dualities in \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd, Hsin:2016blu}. We thus conjecture that this duality is correct. In fact in Section~\ref{sec: U(1) 3/2 time rev} we derive this duality from the Abelian dualities of \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd}. This duality expresses the fact that the theory has a time-reversal invariant line in its phase diagram, with an anomaly. Applying a time-reversal transformation to the LHS of (\ref{U(1)3/2 duality}) (see Appendix \ref{app: spinc}) and then using the duality we can write
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_\frac32 \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \quad\stackrel{T}{\longrightarrow}\quad U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$ } \times U(1)_{-1} \;\stackrel{\text{duality}}{\cong}\; U(1)_\frac32 \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$ } \times U(2)_{-1} \;.
\ee
Therefore time reversal is a quantum symmetry of the theory, up to the anomalous shift of the gravitational coupling (the counterterms for global symmetries also suffer from anomalous shifts). The action of this time-reversal symmetry on the mass operators is $|\phi|^2 \;\stackrel{T}{\longleftrightarrow}\; \bar\psi\psi$, hence the theory is time-reversal invariant along the line $m_\phi^2 = m_\psi$ (dashed in Figure~\ref{fig: U(1)3/2}) while phases at opposite points with respect to the line are related by time reversal.
The case with lower sign is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{non duality U(1) 1/2}
U(1)_{-\frac12} \text{ with } \phi,\psi \qquad\text{vs.}\qquad U(1)_{\frac12} \text{ with } \phi,\psi \times U(-1)_1 \;.
\ee
The two phase diagrams are schematically summarized in Figure~\ref{fig: U(1)1/2}. Also in this case, some of the phases (gapless and gapped) do not match. However, as opposed to the previous case, they still do not match even after the shift of a gapless line due to the facts that $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ is not an independent operator and we expect $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ to be irrelevant. Comparing the gapless lines we find:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{phase diagram U(1) 1/2 with phi psi}
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.5}
\begin{array}{ll|c|ll}
\multicolumn{2}{c|}{U(1)_{-1/2} \text{ with } \phi,\psi} & & \multicolumn{2}{c}{U(1)_{1/2} \text{ with $\phi,\psi$ } \times U(-1)_1} \\
\hline
m_\psi>0: & U(1)_0 \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & = & m_\phi^2>0: & U(1)_{\frac12} \text{ with $\psi$ } \times U(-1)_1 \\
m_\phi^2>0: & U(1)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\psi$} & = & m_\psi<0: & U(1)_0 \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 \\
m_\psi<0: & U(1)_{-1} \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(1)_1 & \raisebox{-.1em}{\text{\Large$\times$}} & m_\phi^2<0: & \psi \times U(-1)_1 \\
m_\phi^2<0: & \psi & \raisebox{-.1em}{\text{\Large$\times$}} & m_\psi>0: & U(1)_1 \text{ with $\phi$ } \times U(-1)_1
\end{array}}
\ee
In the first two lines there is a precise match, including the gravitational couplings. In the last two lines, instead, there is a match of degrees of freedom---a free fermion in all cases---but the gravitational couplings do not match on the two sides. Thus, we will not regard this as a good duality. (Notice that the two theories in (\ref{non duality U(1) 1/2}) are mapped into each other by time reversal).
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(220:1.8) arc (220:185:1.8);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (1.8,1.2) {$S^1 \times U(0)_1$};
\node at (-1.5,1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (1.5, -1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (-1.0, -1.8) {$U(1)_1$};
\node at (1.8,.3) {$\phi$}; \node at (-1.5,.3) {$\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {$\phi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,-1.6) rectangle (.5,-2.2) node[midway, black] {$\psi$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(230:1.3) arc (230:265:1.3);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (1.8,1.2) {$S^1 \times U(0)_1$};
\node at (-1.5,1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (1.5, -1.2) {$U(0)_1$};
\node at (-1.9, -1.1) {$U(1)_{-1}$};
\node at (1.8,.3) {$\phi$}; \node at (-1.5,.3) {$\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {$\phi$};
\fill [white] (-.2,-1.6) rectangle (.2,-2.2) node[midway, black] {$\psi$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{$\qquad U(1)_{-1/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$ $\qquad\text{vs.}\qquad$ $U(1)_{1/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$ $\times\,U(-1)_1$. $\;$ Phase diagrams. \newline
The two theories are not dual as the phases do not match (the two theories are mapped into each other by time reversal). However each diagram is symmetric with respect to the dashed line, due to a self-duality.
\label{fig: U(1)1/2}}
\end{figure}
From the phase diagram in Figure~\ref{fig: U(1)1/2} and from (\ref{phase diagram U(1) 1/2 with phi psi}), looking at the LHS for concreteness, one might suspect that the two gapped phases $U(0)_1$, the two gapless lines $\phi$ (which represent the $O(2)$ Wilson-Fisher fixed point) and the two gapless lines $\psi$, respectively, are identical. In that case it would be natural to expect that the line $\phi$ and the line $\psi$ do not touch, and $U(0)_1$ is one connected phase with no phase transitions in the middle. However, a closer inspection of the counterterms for global symmetries reveals that they are different in the two phases $U(0)_1$---see Section~\ref{sec: U(1)-1/2 phi psi phases with background}. This implies that the two phases are different, that they must be separated by a phase transition and thus that the gapless lines must meet.
Although the two theories in (\ref{non duality U(1) 1/2}) do not seem to be dual---at least in the simple way discussed in this paper---at thus we do not see an emergent time-reversal symmetry, yet each of the phase diagrams in Figure~\ref{fig: U(1)1/2} appears to be symmetric with respect to the dashed line. In fact, as we discuss in Section~\ref{sec: U(1)-1/2 phi psi}, each of the two theories has a self-duality (with an anomaly) that exchanges the scalar with the fermion, thus explaining the specularity of its phase diagram. The self-duality maps $|\phi|^2 \leftrightarrow \bar\psi\psi$.
The other cases with $N=N_s$, $k=N_f$ and $Nk>1$ can be studied in a similar way. Some of the phases, denoted in Figure~\ref{fig: masks} as C and D, do not match. We notice that on the LHS the phases D and E are the same phase (because there is no gapless line between them), and similarly on the RHS the phases B and C are the same phase. We should then identify phase C on the LHS with phase D on the RHS, however for $Nk>1$ they are different. Therefore, even taking into account possible shifts of the gapless lines, we do not find evidence of a duality and discard this case. (We also do not find evidence of a self-duality.)
As discussed in Section~\ref{sec: RG flows} for the $SU/U$ dualities, also the proposed $U/U$ dualities are consistent under RG flows triggered by a mass term---either positive or negative---for a single scalar or fermion. Starting with a $U/U$ duality and integrating out a single matter field, possibly taking into account a partial breaking of the gauge group, one obtains another $U/U$ duality with smaller values of $N,k, N_s, N_f$ as in (\ref{RG flow pattern}) that remain within the range (\ref{U/U duality range}).
\subsection{Global symmetry, background fields and monopole operators}
Let us first determine the global symmetry that acts faithfully on gauge-invariant operators in the theory
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2, k - \frac{N_f}2 + j N} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$}
\ee
for generic integer values of $N, k, N_s, N_f, j$ and $N_s, N_f \geq 1$, independently of the dualities. The case $j=0$ is analyzed in Section~\ref{sec: faithful symmetry}. First of all there is $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ charge conjugation symmetry (and time-reversal symmetry for $k = \frac{N_f}2 \in \mathbb{Z}$ and $j=0$). We write
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
G = \widehat G \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \;.
\ee
To determine $\widehat G$ we use the same argument as in Section~\ref{sec: faithful symmetry}. There is a $U(1)_M$ magnetic symmetry. The bare CS levels correspond to the Lagrangian terms
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{L}_\text{CS} = \frac k{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb - \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) + \frac j{4\pi} (\Tr_N b) d (\Tr_N b)
\ee
where $b$ is the dynamical $U(N)$ gauge field, therefore a monopole operator of magnetic charge $1$ has charge $k + jN$ under the gauged diagonal $U(1) \subset U(N)$. Since fundamentals have charge $1$ under that $U(1)$, the symmetry group is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\widehat G = \frac{U(N_s) \times U(N_f) \times U(1)_M}{U(1)_*} \qquad\qquad U(1)_* = \big( e^{2\pi i \alpha}, e^{2\pi i \alpha}, e^{2\pi i(k + jN)\alpha} \big)
\ee
with $\alpha \in [0,1)$. For $k + jN \neq 0$ we can use $U(1)_*$ to remove $U(1)_M$. Thus we can write
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\widehat G = \frac{U(N_s) \times U(N_f)}{\mathbb{Z}_{|k + jN|}} \qquad\qquad\text{for $k+jN \neq 0$}
\ee
and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\widehat G = \frac{U(N_s) \times U(N_f)}{U(1)} \times U(1)_M \qquad\qquad\text{for $k+jN=0$}
\ee
where the quotient is by the diagonal $U(1)$.
In the dualities (\ref{U/U duality grav}) we have $j= \pm1$. It is easy to check that the faithful global symmetry agrees on the two sides of the duality, exploiting the isomorphisms (\ref{symmetry isomorphism I}) and (\ref{symmetry isomorphism II}).
Next, we can identify the relative counterterms on the two sides of the duality, for background fields coupled to the global symmetry. The counterterms for the $SU(N_s) \times SU(N_f)$ factor of the global symmetry are exactly the same as in the $SU/U$ dualities, written in (\ref{SU/U duality with SU background}). The counterterms for the $U(1)^2$ factor of the global symmetry, as well as the precise map of the two Abelian global symmetry factors across the duality, are conveniently captured by the Lagrangian form of the duality, as derived at the end of Section~\ref{sec: SU/U coupling to background} from the $SU/U$ duality:
\begin{align}
\label{U/U duality with U(1)2 background}
\mathcal{L}_\text{LHS} &= |D_{b+A}\phi|^2 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{b-A} \psi - \phi^4 - \phi^2\psi^2 + \frac{k}{4\pi} \Tr_N \Big( bdb- \frac{2i}3 b^3 \Big) \\
&\quad \pm \frac1{4\pi} (\Tr_N b) d (\Tr_N b) + \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_N b)dB \nonumber\\
\mathcal{L}_\text{RHS} &= |D_{f-A}\phi|^2 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{f+A} \psi - \phi^4 + \phi^2\psi^2 - \frac{N-N_s}{4\pi} \Tr_k \Big( fdf - \frac{2i}3 f^3 \Big) \mp \frac1{4\pi} (\Tr_k f)d(\Tr_k f) \nonumber\\
&\quad + \frac1{2\pi} (\Tr_k f)d (\mp B + N_s A) \mp \frac1{4\pi} BdB + \frac{N_s k}{4\pi} AdA - 2 \big( k (N-N_s) \pm 1 \big) \text{CS}_g \;. \nonumber
\end{align}
Here $b,f$ are dynamical $U(N)$ and $U(k)$ gauge fields, respectively, while $A,B$ are background $U(1)$ gauge fields.
Finally, we can verify that the map of Abelian global symmetry factors implied by (\ref{U/U duality with U(1)2 background}) is consistent with the map of basic monopole operators between the dual theories in (\ref{U/U duality grav}). Consider first the theory $U(N)_{k- \frac{N_f}2, k - \frac{N_f}2 + N}$ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$ (duality with upper sign). The bare CS levels for the $SU(N)$ and $U(1)$ gauge factors are $k$ and $k+N$, respectively. The simplest bare monopole $\mathcal{M}$ has magnetic gauge fluxes $(1, 0, \dots ,0)$ under the maximal torus $U(1)^N$ (up to Weyl transformations), breaking the gauge group to $U(1) \times U(N-1)$. Because of CS interactions, $\mathcal{M}$ has charge $k+N$ under $U(1)$ and it transforms as the highest weight of the symmetric $k^\text{th}$ power of the fundamental representation of $SU(N)$. To form a gauge-invariant operator, we should dress it with $k+N$ fields transforming in the antifundamental representation of $U(N)$, $N$ of which are contracted into an $SU(N)$ singlet---an ``anti-baryon''. The simplest gauge invariants constructed with the highest weight can be schematically written as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U monopoles 1}
\mathcal{B}^{(r_1, r_2)} = \mathcal{M} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\phi_{1I}}_{r_1} \;\; \underbrace{\tilde\partial_\bullet \, \overline\psi_{1B}}_{k-r_1} }_{k} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\psi_{\dots B}}_{r_2} \;\; \underbrace{ \overline\phi_{\dots I}}_{N_s} \;\; \underbrace{ \partial_\bullet\, \overline\phi_{\dots I}}_{N-N_s - r_2} }_N
\ee
for $0 \leq r_2 \leq N-N_s$ and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U monopoles 2}
\mathcal{B}^{(r_1, r_2)} = \mathcal{M} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\phi_{1I}}_{r_1} \;\; \underbrace{\tilde\partial_\bullet \, \overline\psi_{1B}}_{k-r_1} }_{k} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\psi_{\dots B}}_{r_2} \;\; \underbrace{ \overline\phi_{\dots I}}_{N - r_2} }_N
\ee
for $N-N_s \leq r_2 \leq N$, with $0\leq r_1 \leq k$ in both cases. We assumed $N_s \leq N$. A gauge index ``$1$'' corresponds to the lowest weight of the antifundamental representation, a gauge index ``$\dots$'' is antisymmetrized, while $I$ and $B$ are antifundamental (because lower) indices of $SU(N_s)$ and $SU(N_f)$, respectively. The notations $\partial_\bullet$ and $\tilde\partial_\bullet$ are explained in Section~\ref{sec: SU/U monopoles}: they indicate the smallest number of different derivatives that make the operator non-vanishing after antisymmetrization, such a number can be zero for $\tilde\partial_\bullet$ but not for $\partial_\bullet$, and we should not use $\partial^2$ in neither of the two expressions. All fields with a gauge index ``$1$'' feel the monopole background and have modes with spin shifted by $\frac12$ (among the antisymmetrized indices there is only one ``$1$''). In particular the first group of modes have spin $\frac12$ (harmonics $Y^{1/2}_{1/2,\pm1/2}$), while in the second group we take the mode of spin $0$ before taking derivatives (harmonics $Y^0_{j,j_3}$). From the groups with antisymmetrized gauge indices we get one extra $\text{spin}\frac12$ representation. The quantum numbers of these operators are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{quantum numbers U monopoles}
\begin{array}{c|c|c}
\quad \mathcal{B}^{(r_1, r_2)} \quad & \quad U(1)_B:\; 1 \quad & U(1)_A:\; k - N + 2(r_2 - r_1) \\[.5em]
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{l}{\rule{0pt}{1.6em}
\big(\rep{\overline N_s}, \text{spin}\frac12 \big)^{\otimes_S \, r_1} \otimes \big( \rep{\overline N_f}, \text{spin}\frac12 \big)^{\otimes_S\, r_2} \otimes \big( \rep{\overline N_f}, \text{spin}_i \big)^{\otimes_A(k-r_1)} \otimes \big( \rep{\overline N_s}, \text{spin}_j \big)^{\otimes_A (N - N_s - r_2)} \otimes \text{spin}\tfrac12
}\\[.6em]
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{l}{\rule{0pt}{1.6em}
\big(\rep{\overline N_s}, \text{spin}\frac12 \big)^{\otimes_S \, r_1} \otimes \big( \rep{\overline N_f}, \text{spin}\frac12 \big)^{\otimes_S\, r_2} \otimes \big( \rep{\overline N_f}, \text{spin}_i \big)^{\otimes_A(k-r_1)} \otimes \rep{\overline N_s}^{\otimes_A (N - r_2)} \otimes \text{spin}\tfrac12
}
\end{array}
\ee
The second and third row refer to (\ref{U monopoles 1}) and (\ref{U monopoles 2}), respectively. We used that the fourth group of fields in (\ref{U monopoles 1}) is a total singlet.
In the dual theory $U(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2, - N + \frac{N_s}2 - k}$ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$, the corresponding monopole operators are constructed in a similar way. From (\ref{U/U duality with U(1)2 background}) the basic bare monopole with charge $1$ under $U(1)_B$ has magnetic fluxes $(-1, 0, \dots, 0)$ under the maximal torus $U(1)^N$, and we indicate it as $\overline\mathcal{M}$. Such a bare monopole has charge $N-N_s+k$ under the diagonal gauge $U(1)$, and it transforms as the highest weight of the symmetric $(N-N_s)^\text{th}$ power of the fundamental representation of $SU(k)$. The basic gauge-invariant operators are then
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U monopoles 3}
\mathcal{B}^{(r_1, r_2)} = \overline\mathcal{M} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\phi_{1B}}_{r_2} \;\; \underbrace{\tilde\partial_\bullet \, \overline\psi_{1I}}_{N-N_s-r_2} }_{N-N_s} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\psi_{\dots I}}_{r_1} \;\; \underbrace{ \tilde\partial_\bullet \, \overline\phi_{\dots B}}_{k-r_1} }_k
\ee
for $0 \leq r_2 \leq N-N_s$ and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{U monopoles 4}
\mathcal{B}^{(r_1, r_2)} = \overline\mathcal{M} \;\; \underbrace{\overline\phi_{1B}}_{r_2} \;\; \underbrace{\psi^{1I}}_{r_2-N+N_s} \;\; \underbrace{ \underbrace{\overline\psi_{\dots I}}_{r_1} \;\; \underbrace{ \tilde\partial_\bullet \, \overline\phi_{\dots B}}_{k-r_1} }_k
\ee
for $N-N_s \leq r_2 \leq N$. In the second group of fields in (\ref{U monopoles 3}) we take the modes of spin $1$ and identify $\partial_\bullet = \tilde\partial_\bullet \partial_\mu$ with the last group in (\ref{U monopoles 1}) (precisely, we use the harmonics $Y^1_{j,j_3}$ where $j$ equals the spacetime spin of $\partial_\bullet \overline\phi$), while in the second group in (\ref{U monopoles 4}) we take the mode of spin $0$ (harmonic $Y^0_{0,0}$). The quantum numbers of these operators are exactly the same as in (\ref{quantum numbers U monopoles}).
The basic monopole operators in the theories involved in the $U/U$ dualities (\ref{U/U duality grav}) with lower sign are constructed in a similar way. The only difference is that on the LHS we use a ``baryon'' (as opposed to an anti-baryon) to dress the bare monopole, while on the RHS we use a bare monopole $\mathcal{M}$ (as opposed to the anti-monopole $\overline\mathcal{M}$) dressed by fields in the fundamental times an anti-baryon. The quantum numbers match in that case too.
\section{\matht{USp} duality}
\label{sec: USp duality}
\begin{table}[t!]
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.43}
$$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{USp(2N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$}} \text{ (LHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\psi>0: & USp(2N)_k \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times U(0)_1 & \qquad\qquad \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; USp(2N)_k \times U(0)_1} \\
m_\phi^2>0: & USp(2N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; USp(2N)_{k-N_f} \times U(2NN_f)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & USp(2N)_{k-N_f} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times U(2NN_f)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; USp\big(2(N-N_s)\big)_{k-N_f} \times U(2NN_f)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0: & 2 N_s N_f \, \psi \times USp\big(2(N-N_s)\big)_{k-N_f} \times U\big(2N_f (N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; USp\big(2(N-N_s)\big)_{k-N_f} \times U\big( 2N_f(N-N_s) \big)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & USp\big(2(N-N_s)\big)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; USp\big(2(N-N_s)\big)_k \times U(0)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$$
$$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{USp(2k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s) \big)_1} \text{ (RHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\phi^2>0: & USp(2k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; USp(2k)_{-N} \times U(2kN)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & USp(2k)_{-N} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U(2kN)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; USp\big(2(k-N_f)\big)_{-N} \times U(2kN)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & USp\big(2(k-N_f)\big)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U(2kN - 2kN_s + 2N_fN_s)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; USp\big(2(k-N_f)\big)_{-N + N_s} \times U(2kN - 2kN_s + 2N_fN_s)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi>0: & 2 N_s N_f \, \psi \times USp\big(2(k-N_f)\big)_{-N + N_s} \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; USp\big(2(k-N_f)\big)_{-N + N_s} \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s) \big)_1} \\
m_\psi>0: & USp(2k)_{-N+N_s} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; USp(2k)_{-N+N_s} \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s)\big)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$$
}
\caption{Phase diagram for $USp$ dualities. These tables are valid for $N_s \leq N$ and $N_f \leq k$.
\label{tab: USp dualities}}
\end{table}
The third duality we consider involves Chern-Simons theories with (unitary) symplectic groups as well as bosonic and fermionic matter in the fundamental representation, which is pseudo-real. We propose the following duality:%
\footnote{In our notation $USp(2N)$ is the compact unitary symplectic group of rank $N$. In particular one identifies $USp(2) \cong SU(2)$. Elsewhere the notation $Sp(N)$ is used sometimes.}
\begin{multline}
\label{USp duality grav}
USp(2N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with } N_s\, \phi,\, N_f\, \psi \qquad\longleftrightarrow \\
USp(2k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times U\big( 2k(N-N_s) \big)_1 \;.
\end{multline}
We recall that in the symplectic case it is convenient to double the number of fields and impose a reality constraint. We use $\Phi_{\alpha I}$ and $\Psi_{\alpha A}$, where $\alpha=1,\dots,2N$ is for $USp(2N)$, $I = 1, \dots, 2N_s$ is for $USp(2N_s)$ and $A =1,\dots, 2N_f$ is for $USp(2N_f)$. We impose
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\Phi_{\alpha I}^* = \Omega^{\alpha\beta} \, \Omega^{IJ} \, \Phi_{\beta J} \;,\qquad\qquad \Psi_{\alpha A}^c = \Omega^{\alpha\beta} \, \Omega^{AB} \, \Psi_{\beta B}
\ee
where, with some abuse of notation, we have indicated by the same symbol $\Omega$ the three invariant symplectic forms of $USp(2N)$, $USp(2N_s)$ and $USp(2N_f)$, while $^c$ is the charge conjugate. Then, even before turning on any potential, the two theories in (\ref{USp duality grav}) are invariant under the faithfully-acting symmetry
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
G = \frac{USp(2N_s) \times USp(2N_f)}{\mathbb{Z}_2} \;,
\ee
where $\mathbb{Z}_2$ is generated by $(-\mathbbm{1}, -\mathbbm{1})$ that is part of the gauge group.
In both theories in (\ref{USp duality grav}) we include the following quartic interactions, that preserve the full symmetry $G$:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\label{USp relevant couplings}
& \big( \Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{\alpha\beta} \Omega^{IJ} \big)^2 \\
& \big( \Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{\alpha\beta} \big) \Omega^{JK} \big( \Phi_{\gamma K} \Phi_{\delta L} \Omega^{\gamma\delta} \Big) \Omega^{LI} \\
\mathcal{O}_\text{m} = \; & \big( \Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{IJ} \big) \Omega^{\beta\gamma} \big( \Psi_{\gamma A} \Psi_{\delta B} \Omega^{AB} \Big) \Omega^{\delta\alpha} \;.
\eea
The first two are classically relevant. The third one is classically marginal and we conjecture that it is present in the IR. As in Section~\ref{sec: SU/U duality}, we add $+\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ to the potential on the LHS, and $-\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ on the RHS. This is crucial for the duality to work. Instead we do not include
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{Phi^2 Psi^2 USp(2N) diagonal}
\mathcal{O}_\text{d} = \big( \Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{\alpha\beta} \Omega^{IJ} \big) \big( \Psi_{\gamma A} \Psi_{\delta B} \Omega^{\gamma\delta} \Omega^{AB} \Big)
\ee
which is a ``double trace operator''. This is also classically marginal, but it is marginally irrelevant at large $N$ and so we expect that it is marginally irrelevant also at finite $N$. In any case the presence of this operator would not change our discussion, once its effect is absorbed in the tuning of the IR masses. Some care should be used when one of $N$, $N_s$, $N_f$ is $1$: in that case some of the interactions above will be identified.
The phase diagrams of the two theories are summarized in Table~\ref{tab: USp dualities}, following the masks in Figure~\ref{fig: masks}. The duality is consistent in the following domain.
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\text{Range of dualities:} \qquad N \geq N_s\;,\qquad k \geq N_f \;.
\ee
For $N = N_s$ the horizontal gapless line in the left half space disappears, while for $k = N_f$ the vertical gapless line in the lower half plane disappears, and when both conditions are met both lines disappear.
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,2); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-1.8, -1.8);
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $USp(2N)_k \; N\, \phi$};
\node at (2.1,.27) {\small $USp(2N)_{k/2} \; k\,\psi$};
\node at (-2.2,-1.4) {\small $2Nk\;\psi$};
\node at (2.8,1.5) {\small $USp(2N)_k$};
\node at (-2.0,.8) {\small $\varnothing$};
\node at (1.0, -1.8) {\small $\varnothing$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,2); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-1.8, -1.8);
\draw [densely dashed] (0,0)--(1,1);
\fill [red!80!black] (0,0) circle [radius=.1];
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $USp(2N)_N \; N\, \phi$};
\node at (2.1,.27) {\small $USp(2N)_{N/2} \; N\,\psi$};
\node at (-2.2,-1.4) {\small $2N^2\;\psi$};
\node at (2.8,1.5) {\small $USp(2N)_N$};
\node at (-2.0,.8) {\small $\varnothing$};
\node at (1.0, -1.8) {\small $\varnothing$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{(Left) Phase diagram of $USp(2N)_{\frac k2}$ with $N$ $\phi$, $k$ $\psi$. We have not indicated gravitational couplings for simplicity. The symbol $\varnothing$ indicates a gapped state with no topological order. (Right) Phase diagram specialized to the case $N=k$. In this case there is emergent time-reversal symmetry (with an anomaly) along the dashed line. We conjecture that there exists a time-reversal invariant tri-critical fixed point at the origin.
\label{fig: USp 3 lines}}
\end{figure}
There are two interesting subclasses of dualities. The first subclass corresponds to the special case just mentioned, namely $N = N_s$ and $k = N_f$:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
USp(2N)_\frac k2 \text{ with $N$ $\phi$, $k$ $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad USp(2k)_{-\frac N2} \text{ with $k$ $\phi$, $N$ $\psi$} \;.
\ee
The phase diagram for the theory on the LHS is depicted in Figure~\ref{fig: USp 3 lines} (left). In this case there are only three gapless lines in the phase diagram, and we might expect that they simply meet at a multi-critial fixed point.
The second subclass corresponds to the special case $N=k$ and $N_s = N_f$:
\begin{multline}
USp(2N)_{N - \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with } N_s\, (\phi \text{ and } \psi) \qquad\longleftrightarrow \\
USp(2N)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with } N_s\, (\phi \text{ and } \psi) \; \times U\big( 2N(N-N_s) \big)_1 \;.
\end{multline}
These theories have (in general) five gapless lines, and the duality implies that there is emergent time-reversal symmetry (with an anomaly) in the IR along the line $m_\phi^2 = m_\psi$. The intersection of the two subclasses corresponds to the special case $N=N_s = k = N_f$. In this case the phase diagram is as in Figure~\ref{fig: USp 3 lines} (right): there are only three gapless lines that conjecturally meet at a multi-critical fixed point with emergent time-reversal symmetry.
The simplest example is the case $N=N_s = k = N_f = 1$:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{USp(2) duality}
USp(2)_{\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad USp(2)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \;.
\ee
Notice that in $USp(2N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$, for $N=1$ and/or $N_s=1$ there is a unique $\Phi^4$ coupling, in the sense that the first two couplings in (\ref{USp relevant couplings}) are proportional. Moreover for $N=1$ there is a unique $\Phi^2\Psi^2$ coupling, in the sense that $\mathcal{O}_\text{m} = \frac12 \mathcal{O}_\text{d}$.%
\footnote{For $N=1$, $\Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{IJ}$ is proportional to $\Omega_{\alpha\beta}$. Contracting with $\Omega^{\alpha\beta}$ we find $\Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{IJ} = \frac12 C_1\, \Omega_{\alpha\beta}$ with $C_1 = \Phi_{\alpha I} \Phi_{\beta J} \Omega^{\alpha\beta} \Omega^{IJ}$. Similarly $\Psi_{\gamma A} \Psi_{\delta B} \Omega^{AB} = \frac12 C_2\, \Omega_{\gamma\delta}$ with $C_2 = \Psi_{\gamma A} \Psi_{\delta B} \Omega^{\gamma\delta} \Omega^{AB}$. Therefore the first coupling in (\ref{USp relevant couplings}) is equal to $C_1^2$ while the second one is equal to $\frac12 C_1^2$. Similarly $\mathcal{O}_\text{d} = C_1 C_2$ while $\mathcal{O}_\text{m} = \frac12 C_1 C_2$. For $N_s=1$ we can repeat the argument on the scalar coupling.}
We have represented the two phase diagrams in Figure~\ref{fig: USp(2) duality} (including the gravitational couplings in gapped phases but not along gapless lines). Along the oblique gapless line we find two Dirac fermions, transforming in the bifundamental representation%
\footnote{We write them in terms of four Dirac fermions $\Psi_{IA}$ with a reality constraint $\Psi_{IA}^c = \Omega^{IJ} \Omega^{AB} \Psi_{JB}$.}
of the global symmetry $\big( USp(2) \times USp(2)\big) / \mathbb{Z}_2$.
Along the other two gapless lines we find $SU(2)_1$ with $\phi$ (and its time reversal): a CFT with $SO(3)$ global symmetry, studied to some extent in \cite{Aharony:2016jvv}.
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,2);
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-1.6,-1.6);
\fill [red!80!black] (0,0) circle [radius=.1];
\node at (1.8,.3) {\small $SU(2)_{1/2} \; \psi$};
\node at (-1.6,-1.0) {\small $2\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $SU(2)_1 \; \phi$};
\node at (2.4,1.2) {\small $SU(2)_1 \times U(0)_1$};
\node at (-1.8,1.0) {\small $U(0)_1$}; \node at (1.6, -1.4) {\small $U(2)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,2);
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-1.6,-1.6);
\fill [red!80!black] (0,0) circle [radius=.1];
\node at (2.2,.3) {\small $SU(2)_{-1} \; \phi$};
\node at (-1.6,-1.0) {\small $2\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $SU(2)_{-\frac12} \; \psi$};
\node at (2.4,1.2) {\small $SU(2)_{-1}\times U(2)_1$};
\node at (-1.8,1.0) {\small $U(0)_1$}; \node at (1.6, -1.4) {\small $U(2)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{.5}}
\caption{$\qquad USp(2)_\frac12$ with $\phi, \psi$ $\qquad\quad\longleftrightarrow\quad\qquad$ $USp(2)_{-\frac12}$ with $\phi,\psi$. $\quad$ Phase diagram. \newline
We have not indicated the gravitational couplings along gapless lines, for simplicity. The duality predicts emergent IR time-reversal invariance at the origin and along the dashed line.
\label{fig: USp(2) duality}}
\end{figure}
It is interesting to compare the $USp(2)$ theory in (\ref{USp(2) duality}) with the $SU(2)$ theory in (\ref{SU(2) U(1)3/2 duality}). In $USp(2)$ with $N_s=1$ scalars there is a unique gauge-invariant $\Phi^4$ quartic coupling that preserves $USp(2)$ global symmetry. Similarly, in $SU(2)$ with $N_s=1$ there is a unique gauge-invariant $\phi^4$ quartic coupling that preserves $U(1)$ global symmetry: it is the very same coupling, it preserves a larger $USp(2) \cong SU(2)$ global symmetry, and in fact the two theories are the same (see also Section~\ref{sec: case of SU(2)}). We have used this fact in Figure~\ref{fig: USp(2) duality} to write the gapless lines in terms of $SU(2)$ gauge theories. In $USp(2)$ with $N_s = N_f =1$ scalars and fermions there is a unique gauge-invariant $\Phi^2\Psi^2$ quartic coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ (\ref{Phi^2 Psi^2 USp(2N) diagonal}) that preserves $USp(2) \times USp(2)$ global symmetry. On the contrary, in $SU(2)$ with $N_s = N_f=1$ there are two gauge-invariant $\phi^2\psi^2$ couplings that preserve $U(1) \times U(1)$ global symmetry:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
(\phi_\alpha^* \phi^\alpha)(\bar\psi_\alpha \psi^\alpha) \qquad\text{ and }\qquad (\phi^\alpha \bar\psi_\alpha)(\psi^\alpha \phi_\alpha^*) \;.
\ee
The first one preserves $USp(2) \times USp(2)$ global symmetry, while the second one preserves $U(1) \times U(1)$ (and we expect it to be marginally relevant in the UV). Thus the $USp(2)$ and $SU(2)$ theories with a scalar and a fermion are different, and the latter is expected to be a relevant deformation of the former. In fact, the relevant deformation splits the gapless line $2\psi$ in Figure~\ref{fig: USp(2) duality} into two lines, by giving mass to one of the two fermions.
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,2);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(0,-.2); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-.2) arc [radius = 1, start angle = 0, end angle = -45]; \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-1.78,-2.40)--(-.28,-.90);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (1.6,.3) {\small $SU(2)_{1/2} \; \psi$}; \node at (-1.8,.3) {\small $\psi$}; \node at (-2,-2.2) {\small $\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $SU(2)_1 \; \phi$};
\node at (2.4,1.3) {\small $SU(2)_1 \times U(0)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.2) {\small $U(0)_1$};
\node at (2, -1.2) {\small $U(2)_1$}; \node at (-1.8, -.8) {\small $U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-.2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-.2,0) arc [radius = 1, start angle = 90, end angle = 135]; \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2.40,-1.78)--(-.90,-.28);
\fill [lightgray!70!yellow, fill opacity=.6] (0,0) circle [radius=.4];
\draw [densely dashed] (-.6,-.6)--(.6,.6);
\node at (2.2,.3) {\small $SU(2)_{-1} \times U(2)_1 \; \phi$}; \node at (-2.6,-1.6) {\small $\psi$}; \node [right] at (0,-1.8) {\small $\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $SU(2)_{-\frac12} \; \psi$};
\node at (2.4,1.3) {\small $SU(2)_{-1} \times U(2)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.2) {\small $U(0)_1$};
\node at (2, -1.2) {\small $U(2)_1$}; \node at (-1,-2) {\small $U(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{.5}}
\caption{$\qquad SU(2)_{1/2}$ with $\phi$, $\psi$ $\qquad\;\;\longleftrightarrow\;\;\;\qquad$ $SU(2)_{-1/2}$ with $\phi$, $\psi$. $\quad$ Phase diagram. \newline
We have not indicated the gravitational couplings along gapless lines, for simplicity. The duality predicts emergent time-reversal invariance around the origin, along the dashed line.
\label{fig: SU(2) duality}}
\end{figure}
We propose that deforming the $USp$ duality in (\ref{USp(2) duality}) by $(\phi^\alpha \bar\psi_\alpha)(\psi^\alpha \phi_\alpha^*) \leftrightarrow - (\phi^\alpha \bar\psi_\alpha)(\psi^\alpha \phi_\alpha^*)$ we obtain the following $SU$ duality:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
SU(2)_\frac12 \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad SU(2)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \;.
\ee
The phase diagram is summarized in Figure~\ref{fig: SU(2) duality}. This duality implies that the theory has emergent time-reversal invariance in the IR. In fact, this theory is precisely the one in the duality (\ref{SU(2) U(1)3/2 duality}) and it is dual to the two theories in (\ref{U(1)3/2 duality}): the three dualities are compatible.
\section{\matht{SO} duality}
\label{sec: SO duality}
The fourth duality we consider involves Chern-Simons theories with special orthogonal groups as well as bosonic and fermionic matter fields in the fundamental representation, which is real. For simplicity, we use the same symbols $\phi$ and $\psi$ as before, but we should keep in mind that for $SO$ theories $\phi$ is a real scalar and $\psi$ is a Majorana fermion (when a field has no gauge interactions, to avoid confusion we write $\phi_\mathbb{R}$ or $\psi_\mathbb{R}$). We propose the following duality:
\begin{multline}
\label{SO duality grav}
SO(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow \\
SO(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times SO\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 \;.
\end{multline}
The last factor in the second line represents a gravitational coupling $-k(N-N_s) \text{CS}_g$. We propose this duality in the range
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{SO parameter range}
N \geq N_s \;,\qquad k \geq N_f \;,\qquad N+k \geq N_s + N_f + 3 \;,
\ee
as explained below. It might be possible to extend this range along the lines of \cite{Komargodski:2017keh} or with the observation in (\ref{special SO(2) duality}). Notice that the range (\ref{SO parameter range}) reproduces the range of the $SO$ dualities with a single matter species \cite{Aharony:2016jvv} after setting $N_f =0$.
The proposal (\ref{SO duality grav}) reproduces the boson/fermion dualities with a single matter species of \cite{Aharony:2016jvv, Metlitski:2016dht} for $N_s=0$ or \mbox{$N_f=0$}, as well as the level-rank dualities when $N_s = N_f = 0$ (see the summary in Appendix \ref{app: summary}). The proposal is also consistent under RG flows triggered by a mass term, either positive or negative, for a single scalar or fermion.
The theories in (\ref{SO duality grav}) have global symmetry $G_0 = O(N_s) \times O(N_f) \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \times \mathbb{Z}_2^M$, not necessarily acting faithfully. The first two factors act on the matter fields $\phi_{\alpha I}$ and $\psi_{\alpha B}$ in the fundamental representation, respectively, through the indices $I=1,\dots,N_s$ and $B =1,\dots, N_f$, while $\alpha=1,\dots, N$ is a gauge index. The generator of ``charge conjugation'' $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ maps $\phi_{1I} \mapsto -\phi_{1I}$ and $\psi_{1A} \mapsto - \psi_{1A}$ while leaving all other components invariant.%
\footnote{For $N$ odd, $O(N) \cong \mathbb{Z}_2 \times SO(N)$ where $\mathbb{Z}_2 = \{\mathbbm{1}, - \mathbbm{1}\}$. Therefore for $N$ odd, $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is already contained into $O(N_s) \times O(N_f)$ and is not independent. For $N$ even, $-\mathbbm{1}_N \in SO(N)$ therefore the diagonal $\mathbb{Z}_2$ in $O(N_s) \times O(N_f)$ generated by $\{-\mathbbm{1}_{N_s}, - \mathbbm{1}_{N_f}\}$ is gauged.}
Finally, $\mathbb{Z}_2^M$ is a magnetic symmetry giving charge to monopole operators. As in the dualities with a single matter species \cite{Aharony:2016jvv}, the duality exchanges $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ with $\mathbb{Z}_2^M$.
The quadratic operators invariant under $G_0$ are%
\footnote{Fermions are contracted in a Lorentz-invariant way, keeping the $\epsilon$-tensor implicit.}
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
m_\phi^2 \; \phi_{\alpha I} \phi_{\alpha I} \qquad\qquad\text{and}\qquad\qquad m_\psi\; \psi^{\sf{T}}_{\alpha B} \psi_{\alpha B} \;,
\ee
whose coefficients we tune to find phase transitions. The quartic operators invariant under $G_0$, classically relevant or marginal in the UV, are
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{SO quartic couplings}
(\phi_{\alpha I} \phi_{\alpha I})^2 \;,\qquad \phi_{\alpha I} \phi_{\alpha J} \phi_{\beta J} \phi_{\beta I} \;,\qquad \mathcal{O}_\text{d} = (\phi_{\alpha I} \phi_{\alpha I})(\psi^{\sf{T}}_{\beta A} \psi_{\beta A}) \;,\qquad \mathcal{O}_\text{m} = \phi_{\alpha I} \phi_{\beta I} \psi^{\sf{T}}_{\beta C} \psi_{\alpha C} \;.
\ee
Paralleling the discussion in Section~\ref{sec: SU/U duality}, the quartic scalar couplings are present in the theories, the mixed coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ is assumed to be present in the IR potential with positive sign on the LHS and negative sign on the RHS, while the mixed coupling $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$, even if present in the IR, does not affect the discussion here.
The case $N=2$ is special because $SO(2) \cong U(1)$, in particular the magnetic symmetry is enhanced from $\mathbb{Z}_2^M$ to $U(1)_M$. Also the flavor symmetry can be enhanced. For instance, since four-Fermi interactions are irrelevant, $SO(2)_{k-\frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_f$ $\psi$ is the same as $U(1)_{k - \frac{N_f}2}$ with $N_f$ $\psi$ (notice that the fermions are Majorana in the $SO$ theory and Dirac in the $U$ theory) and the flavor symmetry is enhanced from $O(N_f)$ to $SU(N_f)$. With a single scalar there is a unique quartic scalar coupling, $(\phi_\alpha \phi_\alpha)^2$, therefore $SO(2)_k$ with $1$ $\phi$ is the same as $U(1)_k$ with $1$ $\phi$. For $N_s\geq 2$ the two quartic scalar couplings are independent, therefore the $SO(2)$ theory is different from the $U(1)$ theory. Similarly, for $N_s = N_f=1$ the mixed couplings $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ and $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ are different: while $\mathcal{O}_\text{d}$ is present in the $U(1)$ theory, $\mathcal{O}_\text{m}$ is not and so its presence distinguishes the $SO(2)$ theory. The same is true for all other cases with $N_s, N_f \geq 1$.
\begin{table}[t!]
{\renewcommand{\arraystretch}{1.39}
$$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{SO(N)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$, $N_f$ $\psi$}} \text{ (LHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\psi>0: & SO(N)_k \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times SO(0)_1 & \qquad\qquad\qquad \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; SO(N)_k \times SO(0)_1} \\
m_\phi^2>0: & SO(N)_{k-\frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; SO(N)_{k-N_f} \times SO(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & SO(N)_{k-N_f} \text{ with $N_s$ $\phi$ } \times SO(NN_f)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; SO(N-N_s)_{k-N_f} \times SO(NN_f)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0: & N_s N_f\, \psi_\mathbb{R} \times SO(N-N_s)_{k-N_f} \times SO\big((N-N_s)N_f \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; SO(N-N_s)_{k-N_f} \times SO\big( (N-N_s) N_f \big)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & SO(N-N_s)_{k - \frac{N_f}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\psi$} & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; SO(N-N_s)_k \times SO(0)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$$
$$
\begin{array}{|lll|}
\hline
\multicolumn{3}{|c|}{SO(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times SO\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1} \text{ (RHS)}\\[.5em]
\hline\hline
m_\phi^2>0: & SO(k)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times SO\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \;\;\qquad \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{A:\; SO(k)_{-N} \times SO(kN)_1} \\
m_\psi<0: & SO(k)_{-N} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times SO(kN)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{B:\; SO(k-N_f)_{-N} \times SO(kN)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0: & SO(k-N_f)_{-N + \frac{N_s}2} \text{ with $N_s$ $\psi$ } \times SO(kN - kN_s + N_fN_s)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{C:\; SO(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s} \times SO(kN - kN_s + N_fN_s)_1} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi>0: & N_s N_f\, \psi_\mathbb{R} \times SO(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s} \times SO\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{D:\; SO(k-N_f)_{-N + N_s} \times SO\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1} \\
m_\psi>0: & SO(k)_{-N+N_s} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$ } \times SO\big( k(N-N_s) \big)_1 & \\
& \multicolumn{2}{r|}{E:\; SO(k)_{-N+N_s} \times SO\big( k(N-N_s)\big)_1} \\
\hline
\end{array}
$$
}
\caption{Phase diagram of the $SO$ dualities. Here $\phi$ are real scalars and $\psi$ are Majorana fermions. The validity range of the table is explained in the main text.
\label{tab: SO dualities}}
\end{table}
The phase diagrams for the two theories in (\ref{SO duality grav}), assuming $N_s, N_f \geq 1$, are reported in Table~\ref{tab: SO dualities}, following the masks in Figure~\ref{fig: masks}. The table should be read with some care. If $N_s \leq N-2$ and $N_f \leq k-2$, the table is valid without subtleties. Then, using the dualities in \cite{Aharony:2016jvv}, all gapless lines and gapped phases match across the duality. If $N_s = N-1$ then on the LHS the gauge group is completely broken for $m_\phi^2<0$, and thus the factors $SO(N-N_s)_\#$ in Table~\ref{tab: SO dualities} LHS should be dropped (but the gravitational contributions should be kept). Similarly, if $N_f = k-1$ then on the RHS the gauge group is completely broken for $m_\phi^2<0$ and the factors $SO(k-N_f)_\#$ should be dropped. We find that for $N_s \leq N-1$ and $N_f \leq k-1$ there still is a match of phases between the two sides, with the exception of the case $(N_s, N_f) = (N-1,k-1)$.
If $N_s = N$ then on the LHS the gauge group is completely broken for $m_\phi^2<0$ and, moreover, the $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ charge conjugation symmetry is spontaneously broken%
\footnote{Here we are assuming that the IR relative strength of the two quartic scalar couplings is in a certain range, elaborated in Section \ref{sec: potential}. In this case, up to gauge and flavor rotations, $\phi_{\alpha I}$ is proportional to $\mathbbm{1}_N$ which is not invariant under $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ but does not break $SO(N_s)$. There exists another regime, though, for which the induced VEV of $\phi_{\alpha I}$ has a unique non-zero entry along the diagonal; such a VEV breaks $SO(N_s) \to SO(N_s-1)$ (and preserves $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$) leaving the Goldstone bosons of an $S^{N-1}$ NLSM.}
giving rise to two vacua. Then we should substitute the factors $SO(N-N_s)_\#$ in Table~\ref{tab: SO dualities} LHS with a ``$\mathbb{Z}_2$'' that represents those two gapped states. Notice that the horizontal gapless line in the left half plane disappears, and phases D and E are identical. In this case we find a match of phases between the two sides, provided $N_f \leq k-3$. To verify the match we use that for $0 \leq N_f \leq k-3$ the theory
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{SO confinement}
SO(k)_0 \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$}
\ee
confines, with a spontaneous breaking of the $\mathbb{Z}_2^M$ magnetic symmetry (we typically think of a phase with broken magnetic symmetry as confining). As a partial check of this assumption, the claim is consistent under mass deformations of the theory.
Similar comments apply to the case $N_f = k$: on the RHS the gauge group is completely broken for $m_\phi^2<0$, the vertical gapless line in the lower half plane disappears and phases B and C are identical, the $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ charge conjugation symmetry is spontaneously broken and there are two vacua. We should substitute the factors $SO(k-N_f)_\#$ in Table~\ref{tab: SO dualities} LHS with a ``$\mathbb{Z}_2$''. The phases match between the two sides, provided $N_s \leq N-3$. Finally, for $N_s > N$ or $N_f > k$ we find phases with a more severe spontaneous symmetry breaking, which is not classically observed on the other side of the duality. Collecting the various cases, we end up with the range in (\ref{SO parameter range}).
\subsection{Simple examples}
\begin{figure}[t!]
\centering
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (-2.5,0)--(2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\phi^2$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\psi$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [->, thick] (0,0) ++(220:1.0) arc (220:185:1.0);
\node at (1.8,.3) {\small $\psi_\mathbb{R}$};
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $O(1)$ WF};
\node at (2,1.2) {\small $SO(0)_1$}; \node at (-1.8,1.0) {\small $\mathbb{Z}_2 \times SO(0)_1$};
\node at (2, -1.2) {\small $SO(1)_1$}; \node at (-1.8, -1.2) {\small $\mathbb{Z}_2 \times SO(1)_1$};
\node at (0,-2.8) {};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\begin{tikzpicture}[scale=1]
\draw [->] (2.5,0)--(-2.5,0) node[below] {$m_\psi$}; \draw [->] (0,-2.5)--(0,2.5) node[above] {$m_\phi^2$};
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,-2)--(0,2);
\draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (0,0)--(-.2,0); \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-.2,0) arc [radius = 1, start angle = 90, end angle = 135]; \draw [very thick, blue!80!black] (-2.40,-1.78)--(-.90,-.28);
\fill [white] (-.5,1.6) rectangle (.5,2.2) node[midway, black] {\small $SO(k)_{-\frac12}$ $\psi$};
\fill [white] (-.5,-1.2) rectangle (.5,-1.8) node[midway, black] {\small $SO(k-1)_{-\frac12}$ $\psi$};
\node at (1.8,.3) {\small $SO(k)_{-1}$ $\phi$}; \node at (-2.6,-1.3) {\small $\psi_\mathbb{R}$};
\node at (2.4,1.2) {\small $SO(0)_1$}; \node at (-2.2,1.0) {\small $SO(k)_0 \times SO(0)_1$};
\node at (2.4, -0.8) {\small $SO(1)_1$}; \node [align=center] at (-1.3, -2.5) { \footnotesize $SO(k-1)_0$ \\[-.5em] \footnotesize $\times\; SO(1)_1$};
\end{tikzpicture}
\hspace{\stretch{1}}
\caption{$\qquad O(1)$ WF $\times$ $\psi_\mathbb{R}$ $\qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad$ $SO(k)_{-1/2}$ with $\phi,\psi$. $\quad$ Phase diagram.
\label{fig: O1 WF}}
\end{figure}
A simple but interesting example is for $N=N_s = N_f = 1$ and $k\geq 4$:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
O(1) \text{ WF } \times\; \psi_\mathbb{R} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad SO(k)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \;.
\ee
On both sides the gravitational coupling is $SO(0)_1$. The theory on the LHS is the decoupled product of the $O(1)$ Wilson-Fisher fixed point (denoted as $\phi_\mathbb{R}$ in our notation), also known as the 3D Ising CFT, and a free Majorana fermion. These two theories are time-reversal invariant, and are decoupled because $\phi^2 \psi^2$ is irrelevant. Therefore the duality predicts that the theory on the RHS has a multi-critical fixed point where the four gapless lines meet, the theory factorizes and develops time-reversal invariance in the IR. The two phase diagrams are in Figure~\ref{fig: O1 WF}: on the LHS we took into account that $\phi^2\psi^2$ is irrelevant and moved the $\psi_\mathbb{R}$ gapless line accordingly; on the RHS we implemented such an input from the duality and crossed the gapless lines perpendicularly. The gapless lines agree using the bosonization/fermionization dualities of \cite{Aharony:2016jvv} and the gapped phases agree using (\ref{SO confinement}).
The previous example generalizes to the dualities
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
O(1) \text{ WF } \times\; N_f\; \psi_\mathbb{R} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad SO(k)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $N_f$ $\phi$, 1 $\psi$}
\ee
for $k \geq N_f+3$. On both sides the gravitational coupling is $SO(0)_1$. Once again, the theory on the LHS is factorized into two decoupled sectors: the $O(1)$ WF fixed point and $N_f$ free Majorana fermions. Both sectors are time-reversal invariant. The duality predicts that the theory on the RHS has a multi-critical fixed point with the same IR properties.
\section{More Abelian dualities}
\label{sec: Abelian dualities}
In this Section---that could be read independently from the previous ones---we propose and discuss some other Abelian dualities involving scalars and/or fermions, that can be derived using the dualities in \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd}. Let us first summarize our findings. In Section~\ref{sec: U(1)-1/2 phi psi} we discuss
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\makebox[0pt][l]{\hspace{3em}\raisebox{1.4em}{\begin{tikzpicture} \draw [->,line width=.6pt] (0,0) arc (220:-40:.3 and .4); \end{tikzpicture}}}
U(1)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \quad\longleftrightarrow\quad U(1)_1 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} \quad\longleftrightarrow\quad U(1)^2_K \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \;.
\ee
The theory on the left has a self-duality that acts on the manifest part of the global symmetry. The theory in the middle has an extra ``easy plane'' quartic potential $V_\text{EP}$ that breaks the global symmetry to $O(2)^2$. The theory on the right has a $2\times2$ CS matrix $K = \smat{1/2 & 1 \\ 1 & 1/2}$. In Section~\ref{sec: U(1) 3/2 time rev} we discuss
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_\frac32 \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \;.
\ee
This duality, already presented in Section~\ref{sec: U/U duality}, acts as time-reversal. In Section~\ref{sec: SO excluded} we discuss
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_2 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_{-1} \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \;.
\ee
The theory on the left has manifest $O(2)^2$ global symmetry in the UV, while the theory on the right has $O(2)\times SO(3)$ global symmetry. The duality then predicts IR symmetry enhancement. Finally, in Section~\ref{sec: scalar QED} we discuss dualities of QED with two matter fields:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\makebox[0pt][l]{\hspace{2em}\raisebox{1.4em}{\begin{tikzpicture} \draw [->,line width=.6pt] (0,0) arc (220:-40:.3 and .4); \end{tikzpicture}}}
U(1)_0 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad
\makebox[0pt][l]{\hspace{2em}\raisebox{1.4em}{\begin{tikzpicture} \draw [->,line width=.6pt] (0,0) arc (220:-40:.3 and .4); \end{tikzpicture}}}
U(1)_0 \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \;,
\ee
where both theories have a self-duality. The horizontal duality was already reported in \cite{Motrunich:2003fz, Karch:2016sxi}, the self-duality on the LHS in \cite{Wang:2017txt} and the self-duality on the RHS in \cite{Xu:2015lxa, Hsin:2016blu, Benini:2017dus}. We give here some more details.
As discussed in Section \ref{sec: SO duality} and in \cite{Aharony:2016jvv}, the theories $U(1)_\#$ with 2 $\psi$ coincide with the theories $SO(2)_\#$ with 2 $\psi$. The theories $U(1)_\#$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$ almost coincide with the theories $SO(2)_\#$ with 2 $\phi$: the extra quartic scalar potential $V_\text{EP}$ is precisely the one that distinguishes the $U(1)$ theory from the $SO(2)$ theory (for $N_s=2$). However, the relative strengths of the two scalar quartic couplings assumed in Section \ref{sec: SO duality} and the corresponding symmetry-breaking pattern when $N_s=N$, are different from the ones associated to $V_\text{EP}$. This point is elaborated upon in Section \ref{sec: potential} below.
To derive new Abelian dualities, we employ the following ones \cite{Seiberg:2016gmd} that include background fields:
\begin{subequations}
\label{Abelian dualities with background}
\begin{align}
\label{Abdu-a}
|D_B\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad |D_b\sigma|^2 - |\sigma|^4 + \frac1{2\pi} bdB \\
\label{Abdu-b}
|D_B\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \psi - \frac1{2\pi} adB - \frac1{4\pi} BdB \\
\label{Abdu-c}
i\bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_A \psi \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad |D_b\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + \frac1{4\pi} bdb + \frac1{2\pi}bdA \\
\label{Abdu-d}
i\bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_A \psi \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad i \bar\zeta D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \zeta + \frac1{2\pi} adu - \frac2{4\pi} udu + \frac1{2\pi} udA - \frac1{4\pi} AdA - 2\text{CS}_\text{g} \;.
\end{align}
\end{subequations}
Here $\phi,\sigma$ are complex bosons, $\psi, \zeta$ are Dirac fermions, $b,u,B$ are gauge fields (small caps indicate dynamical fields while capitals are background fields) and $a,A$ are spin$_c$ connections. We can treat $a,A$ as standard gauge fields in the last three lines (where the dualities are between spin theories) if we consider the theories on spin manifolds. In all cases a positive mass, or mass squared, on one side is mapped to a negative one on the other side. The parity-inverted versions are:
\begin{subequations}
\label{Abelian dualities with background t-rev}
\begin{align}
\label{Abdurev-a}
|D_B\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad |D_b\sigma|^2 - |\sigma|^4 - \frac1{2\pi} bdB \\
\label{Abdurev-b}
|D_B\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \psi + \frac1{4\pi} ada + \frac1{2\pi} adB + \frac1{4\pi} BdB +2 \text{CS}_\text{g} \\
\label{Abdurev-c}
i\bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_A \psi \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad |D_b\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 - \frac1{4\pi} bdb - \frac1{2\pi}bdA - \frac1{4\pi} AdA - 2\text{CS}_\text{g} \\
\label{Abdurev-d}
i\bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_A \psi \quad&\longleftrightarrow\quad i \bar\zeta D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \zeta + \frac1{4\pi} ada - \frac1{2\pi} adu + \frac2{4\pi} udu - \frac1{2\pi} udA + 2\text{CS}_\text{g} \;.
\end{align}
\end{subequations}
\subsection[The potential $V_\text{EP}$]{The potential \matht{V_\text{EP}}}
\label{sec: potential}
Consider an $SO(N)_\#$ theory with $N$ scalars (and possibly fermions). Up to an overall rescaling, the quartic scalar potential can be written as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{potential with lambda}
V = \Big( 1 - \frac\lambda N \Big) \, \big( \Tr \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi \big)^2 + \lambda \Tr \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi \;,
\ee
where $\phi_{\alpha I}$ is an $N\times N$ real matrix. Here $\lambda$ is a real parameter and $\lambda > - \frac N{N-1}$ guarantees that the potential is positive definite. For generic values of $\lambda$, the potential preserves $O(N) \times O(N)$ symmetry (acting on $\phi$ from the left and the right), of which an $SO(N)$ is gauged. If we deform the potential with a negative mass squared,
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
V = \Big( 1 - \frac\lambda N \Big) \, \big( \Tr \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi \big)^2 + \lambda \Tr \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi - m^2 \Tr \phi^{\sf{T}} \phi \;,
\ee
the minima depend on the value of $\lambda$. For $\lambda>0$, up to gauge and flavor rotations, the minima are at $\phi = \phi_0 \, \mathbbm{1}_N$. This VEV breaks the $SO(N)$ gauge group completely as well as $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$, while it preserves $SO(N)$ flavor rotations (up to gauge transformations). This is precisely the symmetry breaking pattern assumed in Section \ref{sec: SO duality}, therefore in that Section we assumed that $\lambda>0$ in the IR.
For $\lambda<0$ the minima are at $\phi = \text{diag}(0,\dots,0, \phi_0)$: they preserve $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ but break the global symmetry $SO(N) \to SO(N-1)$, resulting in Goldstone bosons that parametrize $S^{N-1}$. We might ask if we expect theories with $\lambda<0$ in the IR. At least in the case $N=2$, we can make the following observation. For $\lambda = 0$ the flavor symmetry is enhanced to $SU(2)$ (and the magnetic symmetry is enhanced as well).%
\footnote{For $\lambda=0$ the potential $V$ is invariant under $O(N^2)$ acting on the entries of $\phi$, however in the full $SO(N)$ gauge theory with $N>2$ there is no symmetry enhancement.}
This means that there are two domains $\lambda \gtrless 0$ in the RG flow, separated by the more symmetric theories at $\lambda=0$, and no RG trajectories cross from one domain to the other (at least as long as the symmetry is not spontaneously broken).
In fact, the potential $V_\text{EP}$ appearing in the dualities proposed in this Section has $\lambda<0$ (contrary to the cases in Section \ref{sec: SO duality} where $\lambda>0$)---and the theories have indeed gauge group $SO(2)$. It is convenient to regard the gauge group as $U(1)$ and use the complex notation. Let us then add some details about this particular case.
We write the ``easy plane'' potential $V_\text{EP}$, function of two complex scalars $\phi_{1,2}$, as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{V_EP}
V_\text{EP} = |\phi_1|^4 + |\phi_2|^4 + 2(\lambda+1)\, |\phi_1|^2 |\phi_2|^2 \qquad\text{with}\qquad -2 < \lambda < 0 \;.
\ee
It is invariant under separate rotations of $\phi_1$ and $\phi_2$, under charge conjugation $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ and under exchange $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$: $\phi_1 \leftrightarrow \phi_2$. We take $\lambda>-2$ in order for the potential to be positive definite. With $\lambda=0$ the symmetry would be enhanced and $(\phi_1, \phi_2)$ would transform as an $SU(2)$ doublet, besides having charge 1 under the $U(1)$ that is gauged.
There is a unique quadratic term invariant under the symmetries, $2v \big( |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2\big)$. With positive mass squared, $v>0$, the only minimum of the deformed potential is at the origin and $V=0$ there. With negative mass squared, $v<0$, the minima depend on $\lambda$:
$$
\begin{array}{rlll}
-2<\lambda<0: & |\phi_1|^2 = |\phi_2|^2 = \frac{|v|}{2+\lambda} & V = - \frac{2v^2}{2+\lambda} & S^1 \\[.3em]
\lambda =0: & |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 = |v| & V = - v^2 & S^2 \\[.3em]
\lambda > 0: & \{ \phi_1=0, |\phi_2|^2 = |v| \} \cup \{ |\phi_1|^2 = |v|, \phi_2 = 0\} \quad & V = - v^2 \qquad & \text{2 vacua}
\end{array}
$$
In the last column we have indicated the set of ground states of the gauge theory. In the examples of this Section, the phase diagrams match if we choose $-2< \lambda<0$.
We can also consider deformations that keep one of the two fields massless. If we deform (\ref{V_EP}) with $2v|\phi_1|^2$ and positive $v$, the minimum is at the origin and $\phi_2$ remain massless. If we deform with negative mass squared for $\phi_1$, we should tune the mass of $\phi_2$ in such a way that the latter remains massless at the minimum. In the range $-2<\lambda \leq 0$ this can be done: the correct tuning is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
V = |\phi_1|^4 + |\phi_2|^4 + 2(\lambda+1)\, |\phi_1|^2 |\phi_2|^2 + 2 v \big( |\phi_1|^2 + (\lambda+1) |\phi_2|^2 \big)
\ee
with $v<0$. The minimum of this potential is at $|\phi_1|^2 = |v|$, $\phi_2=0$ (where $V = -v^2$) and at that point $\phi_2$ is massless. On the other hand, for $\lambda>0$ we encounter a subtlety. The point $\{ |\phi_1|^2 = |v|, \phi_2=0\}$ is still a local minimum of the potential, but the global minimum is at $\{\phi_1 = 0, |\phi_2|=(\lambda+1) |v| \}$ where $V = - (\lambda+1)^2 v^2$ and both $\phi_1$ and $\phi_2$ are massive. Hence---already at the classical level---there is no second-order phase transition as we tune the mass of $\phi_2$.
\subsection[Duality $U(1)_{-\frac12}$ with $\phi$, $\psi$ $\;\longleftrightarrow\;$ $U(1)_1$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$]{Duality \matht{U(1)_{-\frac12}} with \matht{\phi}, \matht{\psi} \matht{\;\longleftrightarrow} \matht{U(1)_1} with 2 \matht{\phi} and \matht{V_\text{EP}}}
\label{sec: U(1)-1/2 phi psi}
We start with the duality (\ref{Abdurev-b}) and shift the background field $B \to B + X$. Then we add a free fermion $i\bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_B \psi$ coupled to $B$, as well as a counterterm $\frac1{2\pi} BdY$, on both sides. Finally we make $B$ dynamical and rename it $b$. We obtain the duality of Lagrangians
\begin{multline}
\label{Abelian duality 1}
|D_{b+X}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_b \psi + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \quad\longleftrightarrow \\
i \bar\psi_1 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \psi_1 + i \bar\psi_2 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_b \psi_2 + \frac{(a+b)d(a+b)}{4\pi} + \frac1{2\pi} adX + \frac1{2\pi} bd(X+Y) + \frac1{4\pi} XdX + 2\text{CS}_\text{g} \;.
\end{multline}
Here $X,Y$ are background gauge fields. Notice that the two theories respect the spin/charge relation \cite{Seiberg:2016rsg, Seiberg:2016gmd} and can thus be defined on non-spin manifolds, provided we promote $a, b, X$ to spin$_c$ connections and add the counterterm $\frac1{4\pi} YdY$ on both sides (see Appendix \ref{app: spinc}). Here we will content ourselves with working on spin manifolds. On the LHS we have not included a term $|\phi|^2 \bar\psi\psi$, which is compatible with the symmetries, since we expect that such a term is not present in the IR. By the same reasoning we have not included four-Fermi interactions on the RHS. What we have obtained is the duality
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{Abelian duality 1 summary}
U(1)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)^2_K \text{ with 2 $\psi$}
\ee
(with gravitational coupling $U(1)_{-1}$ on the RHS) where the theory on the RHS has a CS matrix $K = \smat{1/2 & 1 \\ 1 & 1/2}$. In the following discussion we will need the phase diagram of these theories. We have already presented it (using the description on the LHS) in Figure \ref{fig: U(1)1/2} on the left, as well as in (\ref{phase diagram U(1) 1/2 with phi psi}).
Both theories have a manifest global symmetry $\widetilde{U(1)}_X \times \widetilde{U(1)}_{X+Y} \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ that acts faithfully. Here the two $U(1)$ factors are the ones natural on the RHS of (\ref{Abelian duality 1}), that couple to $X$ and $X+Y$ respectively. They are related to $U(1)_X \times U(1)_Y$, natural on the LHS, by an obvious transformation. On the other hand $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is charge conjugation that inverts all gauge fields, in particular
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}:\qquad X \to - X \;,\qquad Y \to -Y \;.
\ee
Turning off background fields, we see that the theory on the RHS also has a $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$ symmetry that exchanges $\psi_1 \leftrightarrow\psi_2$ and $a \leftrightarrow b$. With background fields the symmetry acts as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{Z2X symmetry}
\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}\;:\qquad\quad X \leftrightarrow X+Y \;,\qquad\quad Y \leftrightarrow - Y \;,
\ee
in other words $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$ exchanges $\widetilde{U(1)}_X \leftrightarrow \widetilde{U(1)}_{X+Y}$, and there is an anomaly given by
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{Z2X anomaly}
\mathcal{L}[X,Y] \;\stackrel{\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}}{\longleftrightarrow}\; \mathcal{L}[X,Y] + \frac1{4\pi} YdY + \frac1{2\pi} XdY
\ee
where $\mathcal{L}$ is the effective Lagrangian. The full global symmetry group is thus%
\footnote{The symmetry group can also be written as $\big( O(2)_{X + Y/2} \times O(2)_{Y/2} \big)/\mathbb{Z}_2$ where the quotient is by the $-\mathbbm{1}$ element on both sides.}
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\widetilde{U(1)}_X \times \widetilde{U(1)}_{X+Y} \rtimes \big( \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X} \big) \;.
\ee
If the theory flows to a fixed point, possibly with a tuning of the relevant fermion-mass deformations invariant under $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$, then we conclude that also the theory on the LHS develops the $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$ symmetry in the IR. Such a symmetry is not manifest on the LHS---although it is manifest in its phase diagram in Figure \ref{fig: U(1)1/2} and in (\ref{phase diagram U(1) 1/2 with phi psi}).
So, let us show how $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$ appears on the LHS of (\ref{Abelian duality 1 summary}). Combining the dualities in (\ref{Abdurev-b}) and (\ref{Abdurev-c}) in a way similar to what we did before, we obtain the duality of Lagrangians
\begin{multline}
|D_{b+X}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_b \psi + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \quad\longleftrightarrow \\
|D_{c+X+Y}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_c \psi - \frac1{2\pi} cdY - \frac1{4\pi} YdY - \frac1{2\pi}XdY \;.
\end{multline}
In the second line we integrated out a dynamical gauge field that appeared linearly. Once again, the duality is well-defined on non-spin manifolds provided we promote $b, c, X$ to spin$_c$ connections and add $\frac1{4\pi} YdY$ on both sides. This duality is a self-duality of $U(1)_{-\frac12}$ with $\phi$, $\psi$, that acts on the background fields $X,Y$ as in (\ref{Z2X symmetry}) and has the anomaly (\ref{Z2X anomaly}). We thus identify this self-duality with $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$.
In terms of the basis $U(1)_X \times U(1)_Y$ for the continuous global symmetry, with charges $Q_X$, $Q_Y$, the self-duality leaves $Q_X$ invariant and maps $Q_Y \leftrightarrow Q_X - Q_Y$. Moreover it exchanges the two relevant deformations:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}:\qquad |\phi|^2 \;\leftrightarrow\; \bar\psi\psi \;.
\ee
This can be inferred by comparing the low-energy theories after deforming with the two operators. It is also apparent from the phase diagram in Figure \ref{fig: U(1)1/2}.
Next, combining the dualities in (\ref{Abdu-a}) and (\ref{Abdu-c}) we obtain the duality of Lagrangians
\begin{multline}
|D_{b+X}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_b \psi + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \quad\longleftrightarrow \\
|D_c \phi_1|^2 + \frac1{2\pi} cd(b+X) + |D_f\phi_2|^2 + \frac1{4\pi} fdf + \frac1{2\pi}fdb - V\big( |\phi_1|^2, |\phi_2|^2 \big) + \frac1{2\pi}bdY \;.
\end{multline}
On the RHS we have included a generic quartic potential in the scalars $\phi_{1,2}$, compatible with the global $\widetilde{U(1)}_X \times \widetilde{U(1)}_{X+Y} \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ and gauge symmetries, as such a potential is generated along the RG flow when we make the background gauge field $B$ dynamical (and rename it $b$). The gauge field $b$ on the RHS can be integrated out, and redefining $\phi_2 \to \phi_2^*$ we obtain
\begin{multline}
\label{Abelian duality 3}
|D_{b+X}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_b \psi + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \quad\longleftrightarrow \\
|D_c\phi_1|^2 + |D_{c+Y}\phi_2|^2 - V\big( |\phi_1|^2, |\phi_2|^2 \big) + \frac1{4\pi} cdc + \frac1{2\pi}cd(X+Y) + \frac1{4\pi}YdY \;.
\end{multline}
(On non-spin manifolds we should promote $b,X$ to spin$_c$ connections and add $\frac1{4\pi} YdY$ on both sides.)
This is the duality
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_{-\frac12} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_1 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$}
\ee
(with no extra gravitational counterterms). On the RHS the quartic potential $V_\text{EP}$ reduces the global symmetry.%
\footnote{With $V = \big( |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 \big)^2$ (or without $V$), the theory on the RHS would have $U(2) \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ faithfully-acting global symmetry \cite{Benini:2017dus}.}
Let us show that $V$ is precisely the ``easy plane'' potential (\ref{V_EP}).
We could entertain the possibility of a $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$ symmetry that exchanges $\phi_1 \leftrightarrow \phi_2$ (in the absence of background fields): whether this is a symmetry of the theory depends on the potential $V$. With background fields the full action is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}\,:\qquad c \leftrightarrow c + Y \;,\qquad\quad X \leftrightarrow X+Y \;,\qquad\quad Y \leftrightarrow -Y \;,
\ee
with exactly the same anomaly as in (\ref{Z2X anomaly}). We recognize that this is the same $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}$ action discussed before, and---if the theory flows to a fixed point---we argued in the fermionic description on the RHS of (\ref{Abelian duality 1 summary}) that it is indeed a symmetry in the IR. This means that we should impose the full $\widetilde{U(1)}_X \times \widetilde{U(1)}_{X+Y} \rtimes\big( \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C} \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{X}\big)$ symmetry on the potential $V$. We then claim that the potential has $\lambda<0$ as in (\ref{V_EP}).
This is dictated by the requirement that the theory reproduces the same phase diagram as $U(1)_{-\frac12}$ with $\phi$, $\psi$. For instance, turning on a negative mass for both $\phi_{1,2}$, the minima of the potential are at $|\phi_1|, |\phi_2| \neq 0$: the gauge symmetry is broken, as well as the $U(1)$ global symmetry that couples to $Y$. We are left with an $S^1$ NLSM coupled to $Y$ without extra counterterms. This reproduces the phase $m_\phi^2>0$, $m_\psi>0$ on the LHS of (\ref{Abelian duality 3}) as reported in (\ref{U(1)-1/2 phi psi phases with background}). The other phases and critical lines are reproduces in a similar way. We conclude that $V = V_\text{EP}$.
As noted before, the theory $U(1)_1$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$ coincides with
$$
SO(2)_1 \text{ with 2 $\phi$} \;,
$$
except that the relative strength of the two quartic scalar couplings is not the same as in the series of $SO$ dualities discussed in Section \ref{sec: SO duality}.
\subsubsection{The gapped phases}
\label{sec: U(1)-1/2 phi psi phases with background}
To conclude the discussion of $U(1)_{-\frac12}$ with $\phi$, $\psi$, let us list the gapped phases:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\label{U(1)-1/2 phi psi phases with background}
m_\phi^2>0,\, m_\psi>0: \qquad & \frac1{2\pi} bdY && \text{($S^1$ NLSM coupled to $Y$)} \\
m_\phi^2>0,\, m_\psi<0: \qquad & \frac1{4\pi} YdY \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0: \qquad & - \frac1{4\pi} Xd(X+2Y) - 2\text{CS}_\text{g} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi>0: \qquad & - \frac1{2\pi} XdY \;.
\eea
This is a refined version of Figure \ref{fig: U(1)1/2} in which we have included the counterterms for background fields. This clearly shows that the four phases are all different.%
\footnote{Without background fields, the second and fourth phases might have looked equal. One could have then suspected that they were connected, with no transition in the middle. We can instead exclude such a scenario.}
\subsection[Time-reversal symmetry of $U(1)_\frac32$ with $\phi$, $\psi$]{Time-reversal symmetry of \matht{U(1)_\frac32} with \matht{\phi}, \matht{\psi}}
\label{sec: U(1) 3/2 time rev}
Combining the dualities in (\ref{Abdurev-b}) and (\ref{Abdu-c}) we obtain
\begin{multline}
\label{duality U(1) 3/2}
|D_{b+X}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_b \psi - \frac1{4\pi} bdb + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \quad\longleftrightarrow \\
|D_{c+X+Y}\phi|^2 - |\phi|^4 + i \bar\psi D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_c\psi + \frac2{4\pi} cdc + \frac1{2\pi} cd(Y+2X) + \frac{2Xd(X+Y) + YdY}{4\pi} + 2\text{CS}_\text{g} \;.
\end{multline}
In the second line we integrated out a gauge field that appeared linearly and redefined \mbox{$\phi \to \phi^*$}. The two theories respect the spin/charge relation, thus the duality is well-defined on non-spin manifolds provided we promote $b,c,X$ to spin$_c$ connections and add the counterterms $\frac1{4\pi} YdY - 2\text{CS}_\text{g}$ on both sides. This is the duality
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_{-\frac32} \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_\frac32 \text{ with $\phi$, $\psi$}
\ee
(with a gravitational counterterm $U(1)_1$ on the LHS) that we already presented in Section~\ref{sec: U/U duality}. Turning off background fields, this is precisely the action of time reversal. We conclude that, if the theory flows to a fixed point, the latter is time-reversal invariant (with an anomaly that we are going to discuss).
In the presence of background fields, we should define an action of time reversal $\mathcal{T}$ on the background as well:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{T}:\qquad X \;\to\; X+Y \;,\qquad Y \;\to\; - Y - 2X \;.
\ee
From here we see that $\mathcal{T}$ squares to $\mathcal{C}$, the generator of charge conjugation $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$, namely time reversal forms a group $\mathbb{Z}_4^\mathcal{T}$ in which $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is the non-trivial subgroup.%
\footnote{See the recent work \cite{Barkeshli:2017rzd} for other examples in Chern-Simons TQFTs.}
The action of $\mathcal{T}$ on the effective action is $\mathcal{T}\mathcal{L}[X,Y] = \mathcal{L}_\text{dual}[X,Y] - \frac1{4\pi}\big( 2XdX + 2XdY + YdY \big)$, where $\mathcal{L}$ and $\mathcal{L}_\text{dual}$ correspond to the LHS and RHS of (\ref{duality U(1) 3/2}) respectively. The duality asserts that $\mathcal{L}[X,Y] = \mathcal{L}_\text{dual}[X,Y]$ as effective Lagrangians. We conclude that
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{T}\mathcal{L}[X,Y] = \mathcal{L}[X,Y] - \frac1{2\pi} Xd(X+Y) - \frac1{4\pi} YdY \;.
\ee
It is easy to check that there is no anomaly for $\mathcal{T}^2 = \mathcal{C}$.
The map of mass operators is
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\text{LHS} \qquad \begin{aligned}
|\phi|^2 &\quad\longleftrightarrow\quad \bar\psi\psi \\
\bar\psi\psi &\quad\longleftrightarrow\quad - |\phi|^2
\end{aligned} \qquad \text{RHS} \;.
\ee
This can be checked by deforming the two Lagrangians in (\ref{duality U(1) 3/2}) and comparing the resulting theories, making use of (\ref{Abelian dualities with background}) and (\ref{Abelian dualities with background t-rev}). This is essentially a refined version of the phase diagram (\ref{scheme deformations U(1)3/2}) in which we keep background fields under consideration. If we completely gap the theory we find:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
m_\phi^2>0,\, m_\psi>0:\qquad& \frac1{4\pi} YdY + 2 \text{CS}_\text{g} \\
m_\phi^2>0,\, m_\psi<0:\qquad& \frac2{4\pi} bdb + \frac1{2\pi}bdY + \frac1{4\pi}YdY + 2 \text{CS}_\text{g} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi<0:\qquad& - \frac2{4\pi}XdX - \frac1{2\pi}XdY - 2 \text{CS}_\text{g} \\
m_\phi^2<0,\, m_\psi>0:\qquad& - \frac1{4\pi} XdX - \frac1{2\pi} XdY \;.
\eea
On the second line we have $U(1)_2$. This specifies the local counterterms for background fields in the gapped phases.
\subsection[Duality $U(1)_{-1}$ with 2 $\psi$ $\;\longleftrightarrow\;$ $U(1)_2$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$]{Duality \matht{U(1)_{-1}} with 2 \matht{\psi} \matht{\;\longleftrightarrow\;} \matht{U(1)_2} with 2 \matht{\phi} and \matht{V_\text{EP}}}
\label{sec: SO excluded}
Combining two copies of (\ref{Abdu-c}) we obtain the duality of Lagrangians
\begin{multline}
i\bar\psi_1 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{a+X} \psi_1 + i \bar\psi_2 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \psi_2 + \frac1{2\pi} adY - \frac1{4\pi} YdY \qquad\longleftrightarrow \\
|D_{b+Y} \phi_1|^2 + |D_b \phi_2|^2 - V\big( |\phi_1|^2, |\phi_2|^2 \big) + \frac2{4\pi} bdb + \frac1{2\pi} bd(X+Y) \;.
\end{multline}
The two theories respect the spin/charge relation and could be defined on non-spin manifolds promoting $a$ to a spin$_c$ connection. This is the duality
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{duality U(1)2 2 phi}
U(1)_{-1} \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_2 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} \;.
\ee
Notice that the theory on the LHS is also dual to $SU(2)_1$ with 2 $\phi$ \cite{Hsin:2016blu}.
The theory on the LHS has manifest $SO(3)_X \times O(2)_Y$ symmetry: $SO(3)_X$ is the electric symmetry with maximal torus $U(1)_X$, and there is a magnetic symmetry $U(1)_Y$ that, combined with a suitable $\mathbb{Z}_2^Y$ charge-conjugation symmetry%
\footnote{If we define $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ charge conjugation as in Appendix \ref{app: charge conjugation}, we find that it leaves invariant $v^z \equiv \bar\psi_1 \psi^1 - \bar\psi_2 \psi^2$ and $v^x \equiv \bar\psi_1 \psi^2 + \bar\psi^2 \psi^1$, but it inverts $v^y \equiv i \bar\psi_1\psi^2 - i \bar\psi_2\psi^1$, and therefore it does not commute with $SO(3)_X$. We can combine $\mathcal{C}$ with a rotation of $SO(3)_X$ such that all three operators are inverted: now this action commutes with $SO(3)_X$. We denote such an action by $\mathbb{Z}_2^Y$.}
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathbb{Z}_2^Y: \quad a \to -a-X \;,\quad X \to X \;,\quad Y \to -Y \;,\quad \psi_1 \to i \psi_2^c \;,\quad \psi_2 \to -i \psi_1^c \;,
\ee
gives $O(2)_Y$. The symmetry is isomorphic to $\big( U(2)/\mathbb{Z}_2 \big) \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$, where $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is the standard charge conjugation (see Appendix \ref{app: charge conjugation}), and there is an anomaly \cite{Benini:2017dus}. Upon symmetry-invariant mass deformation, the theory flows to the $S^1$ NLSM for positive fermion mass, and to $U(1)_{-2}$ for negative fermion mass.
The theory on the RHS has only $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y$ manifest symmetry, because of the potential $V_\text{EP}$ studied in Section~\ref{sec: potential}. The condition $-2<\lambda<0$ guarantees that the same phase diagram as on the LHS is reproduced. We can describe the $O(2)^2$ symmetry as follows. There is a magnetic symmetry, that we call $U(1)_X$, with current $J_\mu^{(X)} = \epsilon_{\mu\nu\rho}F^{\nu\rho}$. There is an electric global symmetry $U(1)^\text{(elect)}$ that gives charge $1$ to $\phi_1$ and $0$ to $\phi_2$. We combine it with the magnetic symmetry and define $U(1)_Y$ with current $J_\mu^{(Y)} = J_\mu^\text{(elect)} + J_\mu^{(X)}$. Next there is a $\mathbb{Z}_2^Y$ symmetry that exchanges $\phi_1 \leftrightarrow \phi_2$ (including the background, it shifts $b \to b+Y$ and $Y \to -Y$). Clearly it does not affect the magnetic charge and so it commutes with $U(1)_X$. However consider a gauge-invariant operator with magnetic charge $x$: it is obtained from a bare monopole and, because of the CS term, should be dressed with $2x$ fields $\phi^*_I$, together with an arbitrary string of $\phi_I^* \phi^{\phantom{*}}_J$. It is easy to see that $\mathbb{Z}_2^Y$ inverts the charge under $U(1)_Y$ of such a gauge-invariant operator. Finally, we can define a $\mathbb{Z}_2^X$ charge-conjugation symmetry acting as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathbb{Z}_2^X:\quad b \to -b-Y \;,\quad X \to -X \;,\quad Y \to Y \;,\quad \phi_1 \to \phi_2^* \;,\qquad \phi_2 \to \phi_1^* \;.
\ee
This is a $\mathbb{Z}_2$ on gauge invariants. Such a symmetry inverts the magnetic charge and---as one can easily check---leaves invariant the charge under $U(1)_Y$ of gauge-invariant operators. We conclude that the manifest symmetry is $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y$, with $O(2)_X = U(1)_X \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^X$ and $O(2)_Y = U(1)_Y \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^Y$. Note that both the generators of $\mathbb{Z}_2^X$ and $\mathbb{Z}_2^Y$ lead to an anomaly, while their product does not.
We identify the symmetry factor $O(2)_Y$ on the two sides of the duality, and $O(2)_X$ on the RHS with a subgroup of $SU(2)_X$ on the LHS. The coupling to background fields matches, as well as the anomaly when restricted to $O(2)^2$. A consequence of the duality is that, if the theory flows to a fixed point, $O(2)_X$ on the RHS is enhanced to $SO(3)_X$ in the IR. Let us consider some operators and their duals:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\begin{array}{c|cc|c|cc|c}
U(1)_{-1} \text{ with 2 $\psi$} & U(1)_X & \mathbb{Z}_2^X & SO(3)_X & U(1)_Y & \mathbb{Z}_2^Y & U(1)_2 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} \\
\hline \rule{0pt}{1.1em}
\bar\psi_1\psi_1 + \bar\psi_2 \psi_2 & 0 & + & \rep{1} & 0 & + & - |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2 \\
\bar\psi_1\psi_1 - \bar\psi_2 \psi_2 & 0 & - & \rep{3} & 0 & - & |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2 \\
\bar\psi_1 \gamma_\mu \psi_1 - \bar\psi_2 \gamma_\mu \psi_2 & 0 & - & \rep{3}' & 0 & + & \epsilon_{\mu\nu\rho} F^{\nu\rho} \\
\bar\psi_2\psi_1 \;\oplus\; \bar\psi_2 \gamma_\mu \psi_1 & 1 & \raisebox{-1.3em}[0pt][0pt]{\begin{tikzpicture} \draw [<->,thick] (0,0)--(0,.7); \end{tikzpicture}} & \rep{3} \oplus \rep{3}' & 0 & -/+ & \mathcal{M} \phi_1^* \phi_2^* \\
\bar\psi_1\psi_2 \;\oplus\; \bar\psi_1 \gamma_\mu \psi_2 & -1 & & \rep{3} \oplus \rep{3}' & 0 & -/+ & \overline\mathcal{M} \phi_1 \phi_2 \\
\mathcal{N} & 0 & + & \rep{1} & 1 & \raisebox{-1.3em}[0pt][0pt]{\begin{tikzpicture} \draw [<->,thick] (0,0)--(0,.7); \end{tikzpicture}} & \phi_1 \phi_2^* \\
\overline\mathcal{N} & 0 & + & \rep{1} & -1 & & \phi_1^* \phi_2
\end{array}
\ee
The spin 1 operators with $U(1)_X \times U(1)_Y$ charges $(\pm1, 0)$ can enhance the symmetry to $SO(3)_X \times O(2)_Y$, and the spectrum forms representations of $SO(3)_X$ (we have indicated two triplets by \rep{3} and $\rep{3}'$).%
\footnote{Note that $\mathcal{M} \phi_1^* \phi_2^*$ corresponds, in radial quantization, to two modes of the scalars on $S^2$ with one unit of magnetic flux. Each mode has spin $\frac12$, thus the symmetric and antisymmetric contractions give a triplet and a singlet under spacetime rotations, respectively.}
Let us consider mass deformations of $U(1)_2$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$. If we deform by a positive mass term for both scalars, we get $U(1)_2$. By duality, this is the same as the LHS theory deformed by a negative mass terms for both fermions. If we deform by a negative mass term for both scalars, we get an $S^1$ NLSM from the spontaneous breaking $O(2)_Y \to \mathbb{Z}_2^Y$ (see Section~\ref{sec: potential}). This agrees with a positive fermion-mass deformation of the LHS theory.
We can also consider a mass term for a single field. In the fermionic theory we get $U(1)_{-\frac32}$ with $\psi$, or $U(1)_{-\frac12}$ with $\psi$. In the scalar theory a positive mass leads to $U(1)_2$ with $\phi$, while a negative mass leads to the $O(2)$ Wilson-Fisher fixed point. In both cases we have a match.
What happens if we take $U(1)_2$ with 2 $\phi$ on the RHS, namely the theory with the maximally symmetric potential $V = \big( |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 \big)^2$ (\textit{i.e.}{} $\lambda=0$)? In this case the theory has a manifest $O(2)_X \times SO(3)_Y$ global symmetry. Although this seems similar to what we discussed before, now the symmetry-invariant negative mass-squared deformation $- |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2$ leads to an $S^2$ NLSM (with a Wess-Zumino term), and is not dual to $U(1)_{-1}$ with 2 $\psi$. In fact, the different duality
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_2 \text{ with 2 $\phi$} \quad\longleftrightarrow\quad SU(2)_0 \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \quad\longleftrightarrow\quad U(1)_{-2} \text{ with 2 $\phi$}
\ee
was proposed in \cite{Komargodski:2017keh}.
\
The duality (\ref{duality U(1)2 2 phi}) can be written as
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{special SO(2) duality}
SO(2)_{-1} \text{ with 2 $\psi$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad SO(2)_2 \text{ with 2 $\phi$} \;,
\ee
with the understanding that on the RHS the quartic scalar potential (\ref{potential with lambda}) has $\lambda<0$, as opposed to the cases of Section \ref{sec: SO duality} (see the discussion in Section \ref{sec: potential}). Notice that in the $SO$ dualities, electric and magnetic symmetries are exchanged \cite{Aharony:2013kma, Aharony:2015mjs, Aharony:2016jvv} which is precisely what happens here.
This duality was not recognized in \cite{Aharony:2016jvv}. The reason is that the operator map between quadratic mass terms differs from the other $SO$ dualities, and this is crucial to find agreement between the two phase diagrams. In the $SO$ description, we use four real scalar fields $\varphi_{\alpha I}$ transforming as a vector of both the gauge ($\alpha =1,2$) and global ($I=1,2$) $SO(2)$'s. The scalar theory has the following quartic potential:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
V_\text{EP} = \Big( 1 - \frac\lambda2\Big) \, \big( \varphi_{\alpha I} \varphi_{\alpha I} \big)^2 + \lambda \, \varphi_{\alpha I} \varphi_{\alpha J} \varphi_{\beta J} \varphi_{\beta I} \;,
\ee
as in (\ref{potential with lambda}) and (\ref{V_EP}). We can relate the $U$ and $SO$ descriptions by mapping
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\phi_1 &= \frac1{\sqrt2} \big[ (\varphi_{11} + i \, \varphi_{21}) + i (\varphi_{12} + i \, \varphi_{22}) \big] \\
\phi_2 &= \frac1{\sqrt2} \big[ (\varphi_{11} + i \, \varphi_{21}) - i (\varphi_{12} + i \, \varphi_{22}) \big] \;.
\eea
Then the operator map easily follows from the $U$ description:
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
\bar\psi_1\psi_1 + \bar\psi_2\psi_2 &\quad\longleftrightarrow\quad - |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2 = - \varphi_{\alpha I} \varphi_{\alpha I} \\
\bar\psi_1\psi_1 - \bar\psi_2\psi_2 &\quad\longleftrightarrow\quad |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2 = - \varphi_{\alpha I} \varphi_{\beta J} \epsilon^{\alpha\beta} \epsilon^{IJ} \;.
\eea
In particular, giving mass to a single fermion $\psi_I$ does \emph{not} correspond to giving mass to a single scalar $\varphi_I$, as instead happens in the other $SO$ dualities.
\subsection[Duality $U(1)_0$ with 2 $\psi$ $\;\longleftrightarrow\;$ $U(1)_0$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V$]{Duality \matht{U(1)_0} with 2 \matht{\psi} \matht{\;\longleftrightarrow\;} \matht{U(1)_0} with 2 \matht{\phi} and \matht{V}}
\label{sec: scalar QED}
To conclude, we consider QED with two scalars, namely $U(1)_0$ with $\phi_i$ and $i=1,2$. Dualities of this theory and related ones have already been proposed in \cite{Motrunich:2003fz, Xu:2015lxa, Karch:2016sxi, Hsin:2016blu, Benini:2017dus, Wang:2017txt}, and here we would like to add some details.
The faithfully-acting global symmetry is%
\footnote{It has been proposed in \cite{Wang:2017txt} that the symmetry might be enhanced to $SO(5) \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$ at the critical point.}
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
SO(3)_X \times O(2)_Y \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T} \;,
\ee
where $O(2)_Y = U(1)_M \rtimes \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$ is the product of the magnetic symmetry and a charge-conjugation symmetry. Time reversal will not play a role in our analysis, and we will ignore it for now. The gauge-invariant scalar operators that are quadratic in the matter fields, $\phi^*_i \phi^{\phantom{*}}_j$, transform in the $\rep{3} \oplus \rep{1}$ representation of $SO(3)_X$. The quartic gauge-invariant scalar operators are in the $\rep{5} \oplus \rep{3} \oplus \rep{1}$ of $SO(3)_X$.
If we insist on $SO(3)_X \times O(2)_Y$ symmetry, there is only one quadratic and one quartic operator we can turn on:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{rel ops SO(3) O(2)}
\mathcal{O}_\rep1 = \phi_i^* \phi_i^{\phantom{*}} = |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2
\ee
and $(\mathcal{O}_\rep1)^2$. Tuning $\mathcal{O}_\rep1$, we assume to reach a CFT $\mathcal{T}_0$ with (at least) $SO(3)_X \times O(2)_Y \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$ global symmetry.
If, instead, we relax the symmetry to $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y$ (where $O(2)_X \subset SO(3)_X$ contains the Cartan of $SO(3)_X$ and the $\mathbb{Z}_2$ symmetry $\phi_1 \leftrightarrow\phi_2$), then there are one quadratic and two quartic gauge-invariants that preserve it: $\mathcal{O}_\rep1$, $(\mathcal{O}_\rep1)^2$ and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\mathcal{O}_{(\rep5)} = \big( |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2 \big)^2 \;.
\ee
Here the notation ${}_{(\rep5)}$ represents a particular component of the multiplet in the \rep5. The relevant deformation $\mathcal{O}_{(\rep5)}$ induces an RG flow to two phases with $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$ global symmetry, separated by the CFT $\mathcal{T}_0$ (tuning $\mathcal{O}_\rep1$ to zero).
Let us mention the remaining quadratic and quartic gauge invariants. The quadratic ones are $\mathcal{O}_\rep1$ and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
(\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{ij} = \phi_i^* \phi_j - \frac12 \delta_{ij} \mathcal{O}_\rep1 \;,
\ee
satisfying $(\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{ij} \delta^{ij} = 0$. The quartic gauge invariants are $(\mathcal{O}_\rep1)^2$, $\mathcal{O}_\rep1 \mathcal{O}_\rep3$ and
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
(\mathcal{O}_\rep5)_{ijkl} = (\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{ij} (\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{kl} + \frac14 (\delta_{ik} \delta_{jl} - \delta_{il} \delta_{jk}) \mathcal{O}_\rep1^2 \;,
\ee
satisfying $(\mathcal{O}_\rep5)_{ijkl} \delta^{ij} = (\mathcal{O}_\rep5)_{ijkl} \delta^{jk} = 0$. Notice the relation $(\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{ij} (\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{jk} = \frac14 \delta_{ik} \mathcal{O}_\rep1^2$ and its trace $\Tr \mathcal{O}_\rep3 \mathcal{O}_\rep3 = \frac12 \mathcal{O}_\rep1^2$, thus one singlet is not independent. To break $SO(3)_X \to U(1)_X$ we can use the tensor $(\sigma_3)_{ij}$ and construct $\mathcal{O}_{(\rep3)} \equiv (\mathcal{O}_\rep3)_{ij} (\sigma_3)_{ij} = |\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2$. On the other hand $\mathcal{O}_{(\rep5)} \equiv (\mathcal{O}_\rep5)_{ijkl} (\sigma_3)_{ij} (\sigma_3)_{kl}$ breaks $SO(3)_X \to O(2)_X$.
We can study the various phases of the theory under deformations. While preserving the full $SO(3)_X \times O(2)_Y \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$ symmetry, we can deform with $m^2 \mathcal{O}_\rep1$ and obtain
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
m^2 \mathcal{O}_\rep1\,: \qquad \begin{cases} S^1 \text{ NLSM} & \text{for } m^2 > 0 \\ S^2 \text{ NLSM} & \text{for } m^2 < 0 \;. \end{cases}
\ee
The $S^1$ NLSM comes from $U(1)_0$ and it corresponds to the magnetic symmetry breaking $O(2)_Y \to \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{C}$, while the $S^2$ NLSM is a $\mathbb{C}\mathbb{P}^1$ model with vanishing Hopf term and it corresponds to the symmetry breaking $SO(3)_X \to U(1)_X$.
If we relax the symmetry to $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$, there is one more relevant deformation: $\mathcal{O}_{(\rep5)}$. Tuning to zero the quadratic terms, the potential is $V = \lambda_1 \mathcal{O}_\rep1^2 + \lambda_5 \mathcal{O}_{(\rep5)}$, which is the same as (\ref{V_EP}) (up to an overall constant, $\lambda = - \frac{2\lambda_5}{\lambda_1 + \lambda_5}$). With this notation, the potential is positive definite for $\lambda_1 > 0$ and $\lambda_1 > - \lambda_5$. At this point we can turn on $m^2 \mathcal{O}_\rep1$ as well. If $m^2 > 0$, the IR physics is not affected by $\lambda_5$: we still are left with $U(1)_0$ which gives an $S^1$ NLSM. If $m^2 < 0$, the minima of the potential depend on the sign of $\lambda_5$ (see Section~\ref{sec: potential}). Precisely
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
m^2 \mathcal{O}_\rep1 + \lambda_5 \mathcal{O}_{(\rep5)}\,: \qquad \begin{cases} S^1 \text{ NLSM} & \text{for } m^2 > 0 \\ S^1 \text{ NLSM} & \text{for } m^2<0,\; \lambda_5>0 \\ \mathbb{Z}_2 & \text{for } m^2<0,\; \lambda_5<0 \;. \end{cases}
\ee
Notice that the two $S^1$ NLSMs are acted upon by the two $O(2)$ factors in $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y$, respectively.
Employing the Abelian dualities (\ref{Abelian dualities with background})-(\ref{Abelian dualities with background t-rev}) we can find dualities of $U(1)_0$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$, corresponding to $\lambda_5>0$. The reason is that the simple dualities produce a UV potential $V = |\phi_1|^4 + |\phi_2|^4$ corresponding to $\lambda_1 = \lambda_5 > 0$ (or $\lambda=-1$). Such a potential will run, however the RG flow will not cross the divider $\lambda_5 = 0$ and thus, assuming that a fixed point $\mathcal{T}_+$ exists, the latter will lie somewhere at $\lambda_5>0$ ($\lambda<0$).
Combining (\ref{Abdu-a}) and (\ref{Abdurev-a}) we obtain the duality of Lagrangians
\begin{multline}
|D_{b+X}\phi_1|^2 + |D_b \phi_2|^2 - V\big( |\phi_1|^2, |\phi_2|^2 \big) + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \\
\longleftrightarrow\qquad |D_{c+Y} \sigma_1|^2 + |D_c \sigma_2|^2 - V\big( |\phi_1|^2, |\phi_2|^2 \big) + \frac1{2\pi} cdX \;.
\end{multline}
This is a \emph{self-duality} of $U(1)_0$ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$ acting as $X \leftrightarrow Y$ on the background fields. Each side has $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y \times \mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{T}$ symmetry, and the self-duality is an extra element $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{D}$ that exchanges the two $O(2)$ factors. The operator map includes
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
|\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad - \big( |\sigma_1|^2 + |\sigma_2|^2 \big) \;,\qquad\qquad &
\phi_1\phi_2^* \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad \mathcal{N}_+ \\
|\phi_1|^2 - |\phi_2|^2 \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad |\sigma_1|^2 - |\sigma_2|^2 \;,\qquad &
\phi_2\phi_1^* \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad \mathcal{N}_- \;.
\eea
On the other hand, combining (\ref{Abdu-b}) and (\ref{Abdurev-b}) we obtain the duality of Lagrangians
\begin{multline}
|D_{b+X}\phi_1|^2 + |D_b\phi_2|^2 - V\big( |\phi_1|^2, |\phi_2|^2 \big) + \frac1{2\pi} bdY \qquad\longleftrightarrow \\
i \bar\psi_1 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \psi_1 + i \bar\psi_2 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{a+X-Y} \psi_2 + \frac1{4\pi} ada - \frac1{2\pi} adY - \frac1{2\pi} XdY + \frac1{4\pi} YdY + 2 \text{CS}_\text{g} \;.
\end{multline}
The theory on the RHS can be defined on non-spin manifolds promoting $a$ to be a spin$_c$ connection.
We have found the duality
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
U(1)_0 \text{ with 2 $\phi$ and $V_\text{EP}$} \qquad\longleftrightarrow\qquad U(1)_0 \text{ with 2 $\psi$}
\ee
between scalar QED (with a symmetry-breaking potential $V_\text{EP}$) and fermionic QED. In turn, QED with two fermions has its own self-duality \cite{Xu:2015lxa, Hsin:2016blu, Benini:2017dus}. To make contact with \cite{Hsin:2016blu, Benini:2017dus} we perform the following transformation of the background gauge fields:%
\footnote{The transformation of gauge fields (\ref{background map}) may seem not invertible, however the symmetry group in the variables $\widetilde X, \widetilde Y$ is $\big( U(1)_{\widetilde X} \times U(1)_{\widetilde Y} \big)/\mathbb{Z}_2$ and so the well-defined gauge fields are $2\widetilde X$, $2\widetilde Y$ and $\widetilde X-\widetilde Y$.}
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
\label{background map}
X - Y = -2 \widetilde X \;,\qquad\qquad X+Y = - 2 \widetilde Y \;.
\ee
This gives
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
i \bar\psi_1 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_a \psi_1 + i \bar\psi_2 D\!\!\!\!\slash\,_{a-2\widetilde X} \psi_2 + \frac{ada}{4\pi} + \frac{ad(\widetilde Y-\widetilde X)}{2\pi} + \frac{(\widetilde X-\widetilde Y)d(\widetilde X-\widetilde Y)}{4\pi} - \frac{2\widetilde Yd\widetilde Y}{4\pi} + \frac{2\widetilde Xd\widetilde X}{4\pi} + 2 \text{CS}_\text{g}
\ee
which precisely agrees with (4.3) in \cite{Benini:2017dus} (tilded quantities are background fields there), except for the background counterterm $2\widetilde Xd\widetilde X/4\pi$. Such a term could be removed on both sides of the duality, however this would lead to a Lagrangian in which the background CS terms are not properly quantized for $\big(U(1)_{\widetilde X} \times U(1)_{\widetilde Y} \big)/\mathbb{Z}_2$ and this is just a reflection of the underlying 't~Hooft anomaly.
We can compare massive deformations of the scalar QED with symmetry-breaking potential $V_\text{EP}$ and of fermionic QED, in the presence of background fields, and make contact with \cite{Benini:2017dus}. The operator map is
\begin{equation} \begin{aligned}} \newcommand{\eea}{\end{aligned} \end{equation}
- |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad \bar\psi_1 \psi_1 + \bar\psi_2 \psi_2 \\
- \big( |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2\big) \qquad&\longleftrightarrow\qquad \bar\psi_1 \psi_1 - \bar\psi_2 \psi_2 \;,
\eea
as it follows from the derivation in terms of Abelian dualities. Deforming (the potential of) scalar QED by $|\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 = \mathcal{O}_\rep1$, the scalars are massive and we are left with $\mathcal{L} = \frac1{2\pi} bdY$, which is an $S^1$ NLSM from the breaking of $U(1)_Y$. This matches%
\footnote{Since the symmetry is broken, the counterterms associated to it are ambiguous. In the description in terms of a free gauge field $b$, this appears as the freedom to shift $b$ by background gauge fields.}
fermionic QED deformed by $- \bar\psi_1 \psi_1 + \bar\psi_2 \psi_2$. Deforming scalar QED by $-\mathcal{O}_\rep1$ the scalars condense, breaking both the gauge symmetry and the flavor symmetry associated to $X$. This gives an $S^1$ NLSM, which can be described by a free photon $\tilde b$ as $\mathcal{L} = \frac1{2\pi} \tilde b dX$. This matches fermionic QED deformed by $\bar\psi_1 \psi_1 - \bar\psi_2 \psi_2$. Deforming scalar QED by $- |\phi_1|^2 + |\phi_2|^2 = - \mathcal{O}_{(\rep3)}$, $\phi_1$ condenses while $\phi_2$ is massive. The gauge symmetry is broken, while the global symmetry is not (we have ``color-flavor locking''): setting $b+X = 0$ we are left with $\mathcal{L} = - \frac1{2\pi} X dY$.
This matches fermionic QED deformed by $\bar\psi_1 \psi_1 + \bar\psi_2 \psi_2$. Deforming scalar QED by $\mathcal{O}_{(\rep3)}$, instead, $\phi_2$ condenses and $\phi_1$ is massive: setting $b=0$ we are left with $\mathcal{L} = 0$. This matches fermionic QED deformed by $-\bar\psi_1 \psi_1 - \bar\psi_2 \psi_2)$.
Fermionic QED has enhanced $O(4)$ symmetry (besides time reversal) at its fixed point \cite{Xu:2015lxa, Hsin:2016blu}, thus duality implies that also the scalar QED with symmetry-breaking potential $V_\text{EP}$ at the fixed point $\mathcal{T}_+$ should have such an enhanced $O(4)$ symmetry. The manifest symmtry along the flow is $O(2)_X \times O(2)_Y$, embedded into $O(4)$ is the following way:
\begin{equation}} \newcommand{\ee}{\end{equation}
O(4) \supset \mat{ O(2)_X & 0 \\ 0 & O(2)_Y} \;.
\ee
The self-duality of $\mathcal{T}_+$ is the $\mathbb{Z}_2^\mathcal{D}$ that exchanges the two $O(2)$ factors, however to claim the full $O(4)$ symmetry we need to invoke the duality to fermionic QED.
\section{Conclusions}
\label{sec: conclusions}
In this paper we have proposed and analyzed new infinite families of IR dualities between Chern-Simons theories with both scalar and fermionic matter fields in the fundamental representation, for classical gauge groups. The theories have two relevant deformations invariant under all global symmetries---a mass for scalars and a mass for fermions---and we have studied the phase diagram as those masses are varied. We have found interesting (conjecturally) gapless lines, meeting at multi-critical fixed points.
Our analysis of the phase diagram was essentially classical (except for the fact that we used non-perturbative dualities to match the various phases), thus valid for large values of the masses compared with the scale set by the Yang-Mills regulator. In the range of parameters that we discussed, such an analysis has given results consistent with the dualities. For larger values of the numbers $N_s, N_f$ of matter fields, the phase diagrams do not seem to match and we could not claim that a duality exists. However, one could try to assume the existence of quantum phases, not visible classically, and give a consistent picture of the physics which is compatible with the dualities in a wider range of parameters, as done in \cite{Komargodski:2017keh, Gaiotto:2017tne, Gomis:2017ixy}.
When $N_s = N_f$ the matter content of the theories discussed in this paper becomes ``supersymmetric''. We do not have a gaugino, however the gaugino is massive in SUSY CS theories and could be integrated out. Yet, our theories are not supersymmetric because the interactions are not. For instance, the global symmetry contains two independent factors acting on the scalar and on the fermions, while there is only one factor acting on both in supersymmetric theories. Hence, it would be interesting to understand better the relations between the dualities discussed here and those of supersymmetric theories. For the cases with a single scalar and fermion, this has been considered in \cite{Jain:2013gza, Gur-Ari:2015pca, Kachru:2016aon}.
\section*{Acknowledgments}
I am indebted to Ofer Aharony and Nathan Seiberg for uncountable discussions on this subject, as well as comments on the manuscript. I also thank Sergio Benvenuti, Clay Cordova, Po-Shen Hsin and Shiraz Minwalla for helpful comments and suggestions. This work is supported in part by the MIUR-SIR grant RBSI1471GJ ``Quantum Field Theories at Strong Coupling: Exact Computations and Applications'', and by the IBM Einstein Fellowship at the Institute for Advanced Study.
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 1,076 |
<?php
namespace UkalaTest;
use Zend\Loader\AutoloaderFactory;
use Zend\Mvc\Service\ServiceManagerConfig;
use Zend\ServiceManager\ServiceManager;
use Zend\Stdlib\ArrayUtils;
use RuntimeException;
use UkalaTest\Framework\TestCase;
error_reporting(E_ALL | E_STRICT);
chdir(__DIR__);
class Bootstrap
{
protected static $serviceManager;
protected static $config;
protected static $bootstrap;
public static function init()
{
// Load the user-defined test configuration file, if it exists; otherwise, load
if (is_readable(__DIR__ . '/config/test.config.php')) {
$testConfig = include __DIR__ . '/config/test.config.php';
} else {
$testConfig = include __DIR__ . '/TestConfig.php.dist';
}
$zf2ModulePaths = array();
if (isset($testConfig['module_listener_options']['module_paths'])) {
$modulePaths = $testConfig['module_listener_options']['module_paths'];
foreach ($modulePaths as $modulePath) {
if (($path = static::findParentPath($modulePath)) ) {
$zf2ModulePaths[] = $path;
}
}
}
$zf2ModulePaths = implode(PATH_SEPARATOR, $zf2ModulePaths) . PATH_SEPARATOR;
$zf2ModulePaths .= getenv('ZF2_MODULES_TEST_PATHS') ?: (defined('ZF2_MODULES_TEST_PATHS') ? ZF2_MODULES_TEST_PATHS : '');
static::initAutoloader();
// use ModuleManager to load this module and it's dependencies
$baseConfig = array(
'module_listener_options' => array(
'module_paths' => explode(PATH_SEPARATOR, $zf2ModulePaths),
),
);
$config = ArrayUtils::merge($baseConfig, $testConfig);
$serviceManager = new ServiceManager(new ServiceManagerConfig());
$serviceManager->setService('ApplicationConfig', $config);
$serviceManager->get('ModuleManager')->loadModules();
static::$serviceManager = $serviceManager;
static::$config = $config;
}
public static function getServiceManager()
{
return static::$serviceManager;
}
public static function getConfig()
{
return static::$config;
}
protected static function initAutoloader()
{
$vendorPath = static::findParentPath('vendor');
if (is_readable($vendorPath . '/autoload.php')) {
$loader = include $vendorPath . '/autoload.php';
} else {
$zf2Path = getenv('ZF2_PATH') ?: (defined('ZF2_PATH') ? ZF2_PATH : (is_dir($vendorPath . '/ZF2/library') ? $vendorPath . '/ZF2/library' : false));
if (!$zf2Path) {
throw new RuntimeException('Unable to load ZF2. Run `php composer.phar install` or define a ZF2_PATH environment variable.');
}
include $zf2Path . '/Zend/Loader/AutoloaderFactory.php';
}
AutoloaderFactory::factory(array(
'Zend\Loader\StandardAutoloader' => array(
'autoregister_zf' => true,
'namespaces' => array(
__NAMESPACE__ => __DIR__ . '/' . __NAMESPACE__,
),
),
));
}
protected static function findParentPath($path)
{
$dir = __DIR__;
$previousDir = '.';
while (!is_dir($dir . '/' . $path)) {
$dir = dirname($dir);
if ($previousDir === $dir) return false;
$previousDir = $dir;
}
return $dir . '/' . $path;
}
}
Bootstrap::init();
/*putenv('APPLICATION_ENV=testing');
use Zend\ServiceManager\ServiceManager,
Zend\Mvc\Service\ServiceManagerConfiguration,
Zend\Di\Di,
Zend\Di\Configuration as DiConfiguration,
Zend\Loader\AutoloaderFactory,
UkalaTest\Framework\TestCase;
chdir(__DIR__);
$previousDir = '.';
while (!file_exists('config/application.config.php')) {
$dir = dirname(getcwd());
if ($previousDir === $dir) {
throw new RuntimeException(
'Unable to locate "config/application.config.php":'
. ' is DoctrineModule in a subdir of your application skeleton?'
);
}
$previousDir = $dir;
chdir($dir);
}
if (!include('vendor/autoload.php')) {
throw new RuntimeException('vendor/autoload.php could not be found. Did you run php composer.phar install?');
}
$rootPath = realpath(dirname(__DIR__));
$testsPath = "$rootPath/tests";
//Add namespaces
AutoloaderFactory::factory(array('Zend\Loader\StandardAutoloader' => array(
'namespaces' => array(
'UkalaTest' => $testsPath . '/UkalaTest'
)
)));
// get application stack configuration
$configuration = require 'config/application.config.php';
// setup service manager
$serviceManager = new ServiceManager(new ServiceManagerConfiguration($configuration['service_manager']));
$serviceManager->setService('ApplicationConfiguration', $configuration);
$config = $serviceManager->get('Configuration');
$di = new Di();
$di->instanceManager()->addTypePreference('Zend\Di\LocatorInterface', $di);
$config = new DiConfiguration($config['di']);
$config->configure($di);
TestCase::$locator = $di;*/ | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 6,920 |
Francesco Galeazzi (* 1758 in Turin; † Januar 1819 in Rom) war ein italienischer Geiger, Musiktheoretiker, Komponist und Wissenschaftler.
Leben
Francesco Galeazzi wirkte als Violinlehrer und während mehr als einem Jahrzehnt als Leiter des Musiktheaters Teatro Valle in Rom. Sein 1791 und 1796 erschienenes zweibändiges musiktheoretische Werk "Elementi teorico-pratici di musica con un saggio sopra l'arte di suonare il violino analizzata, ed a dimostrabili principi ridotta" ist ein wichtiger Schlüssel zum Verständnis des klassischen Musikstils, 1819 erschien eine erweiterte Ausgabe und bereits 1796 eine englische Übersetzung. Es enthält früheste Beschreibungen der Sonatensatzform. Neben der Musik beschäftigte sich auch mit Mathematik und anderen Wissenschaften, mit Geographie und Geschichte. An Kompositionen Galeazzis sind mehrere Duett-Sammlungen, eine Sammlung Streichtrios und Vokalwerke bekannt, außerdem komponierte er eine Oper.
Werke (Auswahl laut IMSLP)
Op. 1, 6 Duette für 2 Violinen oder Violin und Cello (1781)
Op. 2, 6 Trios für 2 Violinen und Viola (Mailand, Biblioteca del Conservatorio di Musica Giuseppe Verdi, Noseda I.35.17)
Op. 15, 6 Trios für Violine, Viola und Cello (Rome, Biblioteca Casanatense, MS MUS 5858)
Op. 17, 3 Oktette für 4 Violinen, 2 Bratschen und 2 Celli (Rom, Biblioteca di Archeologia e Storia dell'Arte, Mss. Vess. 523)
Sei duetti per violino e violoncello (Rome, Biblioteca di Archeologia e Storia dell'Arte, Mss. Vess 590)
Sei duetti per due violini, 1803 (Rom, Biblioteca privata Giancarlo Rostirolla, MS MUS 1188)
Sei quartetti concertanti per due violini, viola e violoncello (Neapel, Biblioteca del Conservatorio di Musica S. Pietro a Maiella, Musica Strumentale 2440-2443)
Due sonate [vermerkt bei Bathia Churgin 2001]
Un solo di violino [vermerkt bei Bathia Churgin 2001]
Révolution Symphonie à plusieurs parties composé par François Galeazzi turinais
Concerto per clarinetto a solo con piu strumenti (1787)
2 Violinkonzerte (vermerkt bei Bathia Churgin 2001)
Literatur
Carlo Schmidl: Dizionario universale dei musicisti. Band 1, Sonzogno, Milano 1937
Weblinks
Studienarbeit über Francesco Galeazzi (in italienischer Sprache; PDF; 820 kB)
Einzelnachweise
Musiktheoretiker
Klassischer Geiger
Komponist (Italien)
Komponist (Klassik)
Historische Person (Italien)
Geboren 1758
Gestorben 1819
Mann | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 2,392 |
Blazon of Arms: Gules a Lion Rampant Argent head and mane Or on a Chief Azure four Clarions Argent
Blazon of Mantling and Crest: On a Wreath Argent, Gules and Azure a Clarion Argent
Motto: IN CONCORDIA – In Harmony
Blazon of Badge: Four Clarions Argent braced in cross
Arms Registered in Memoriam 2008. United States Heraldic Registry #20080609C
Last summer I joined The American Heraldry Society, an online message board devoted to the study of Heraldry and the promotion of Heraldry in the United States. And I quickly learned that in the U.S., without any laws governing adoption and use of the symbols of heraldry, we are free to create and assume our own heraldic designs.
In fact, it is a common, but by no means required, first-step for someone interested in heraldry to design their own arms.
What followed was a long, laborious, but quite fun process where some of the members of the message board patiently tolerated by amateurish attempts at design. I'll freely admit, that while those early attempts said a lot about me, they were quite bad heraldry.
Ultimately I hit a wall. I really didn't know what do to for my own shield. However, somewhere along the way I had decided to design arms for my father. Though he has been dead for close to two decades, I know he would have been very interested in my new hobby, as he was very much a fan of both history, and the medieval period (though heraldry is by no means limited to that era).
So I decided to take a step back and design something for him. This proved much easier, and after only a few drafts settled on the design you see above. Ultimately, instead of designing my own arms, with my position as an only child, I decided to inherit my father's.
"So," you ask, "why this design?"
There are three parts to the design and I'll explain them in the order they were chosen.
First the Lion: Although in the official blazon (or description) I list him as a lion, he is actually the Great Roe. In designing these arms the most difficult task I had was deciding what the main charge would be. Eventually in frustration, I googled my own last name in the hopes of inspiration. Somewhere in the results I found a list of associations with the word Roe. It was easy to discard all the Roe vs. Wade and fish egg references. I toyed with the idea of using a deer (roe buck), but when I found a reference to the Great Roe I knew I'd found my goal.
In 1972 (coincidentally, the year I was born), Woody Allen published Without Feathers, which amounted to not much more than a book of jokes. But in that book he said, "The great roe is a mythological beast with the head of a lion and the body of a lion, though not the same lion."
Next, the Clarions: That's those four things across the top, which look like hooks or waves. What they actually are is uncertain. Even in the obscure field of heraldry these are obscure. Even amongst people who know what they are called, there isn't a real consensus about what they are. The two most common theories are that it was a kind of rest for a lance, or that it was a musical instrument. I'm in the camp that calls it an instrument, mostly because the circumstantial evidence shows that the idea that it was a rest seems to have come after the name. So I tend to believe that heralds who saw the device and didn't know what it was came up with their own explanation.
Even if you assume it to be a musical instrument, there is still debate as the whether the clarion was a kind of keyboard instrument or something akin to a trumpet. Either way, the accepted heraldic image is highly stylized, but again for circumstantial reasons I believe that it is a trumpet. Not only are there literary references to a "clarion call on the battlefield", but anyone familiar with pipe organs can tell you that the organ stop called Clarion, sounds like a shrill rank of trumpets.
I actually chose the clarion for its resemblance to a pitch pipe. My father loved to sing, and throughout my younger years I spent countless Wednesday nights and weekends with him at a nearly constant procession of Barbershop events. And I think everyone who's ever been in Barbershop has a pitch pipe. So the four Clarions across the top are an oblique reference to four-part harmony.
Last, the Colors: In choosing the colors I went back to my father's name. The lion is a reference to his last name, so I decided to make the colors a reference to his first name. The name Dennis is generally defined as being named after one of two beings. Either Dionysis, the Greek God of Wine, or St. Denis, the patron Saint of Paris. I chose to focus on Denis, and therefore chose to use a color scheme inspired by the arms of the city of Paris. The backgrounds are identical, red with a blue chief. However the arms of Paris have its primary charge, a ship, in silver, while the chief is scattered with gold fleur-de-lys, while the primary charge here is gold and silver with silver for the smaller charges.
Crest and Badge: I went with simplicity as the guiding principal for my father's crest and badge. Since the clarion is a such an unusual charge, I used a simple silver clarion atop the helm, and four his badge I arranged four in an interlocking cross.
Motto: The motto simply means "In Harmony," another allusion to his love of singing and music. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 6,475 |
Q: How to display next 5 records or rows after MySQL query result? I have a column in a table that contain words like
*
*Abacterial
*Abactio
*Abaissement
*Abalienation
*Abnet
*Abaptiston
So, when I query for word 'Abacterial' it display result for 'Abacterial' but i also want to display next 5 words.
I use this MySQL query code: mysqli_query($conn, "SELECT * FROM medi_words WHERE word LIKE '%$query%'");
A: Directly from documentation
$query = "SELECT * FROM medi_words WHERE word LIKE '%$query%' LIMIT 5";
if ($result = mysqli_query($link, $query)) {
/* fetch associative array */
while ($row = mysqli_fetch_assoc($result)) {
printf ("%s (%s)\n", $row["word"]);
}
/* free result set */
mysqli_free_result($result);
}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
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{"url":"https:\/\/labs.tib.eu\/arxiv\/?author=Boston%20University","text":"\u2022 The very-high-energy (VHE, $\\gtrsim 100$ GeV) $\\gamma$-ray MAGIC observations of the blazar S4 0954+65, were triggered by an exceptionally high flux state of emission in the optical. This blazar has a disputed redshift of z=0.368 or z$\\geqslant$0.45 and an uncertain classification among blazar subclasses. The exceptional source state described here makes for an excellent opportunity to understand physical processes in the jet of S4 0954+65 and thus contribute to its classification. We investigate the multiwavelength (MWL) light curve and spectral energy distribution (SED) of the S4 0954+65 blazar during an enhanced state in February 2015 and put it in context with possible emission scenarios. We collect photometric data in radio, optical, X-ray, and $\\gamma$ ray. We study both the optical polarization and the inner parsec-scale jet behavior with 43 GHz data. Observations with the MAGIC telescopes led to the first detection of S4 0954+65 at VHE. Simultaneous data with Fermi-LAT at high energy $\\gamma$ ray\\ (HE, 100 MeV < E < 100 GeV) also show a period of increased activity. Imaging at 43 GHz reveals the emergence of a new feature in the radio jet in coincidence with the VHE flare. Simultaneous monitoring of the optical polarization angle reveals a rotation of approximately 100$^\\circ$. (...) The broadband spectrum can be modeled with an emission mechanism commonly invoked for flat spectrum radio quasars, i.e. inverse Compton scattering on an external soft photon field from the dust torus, also known as external Compton. The light curve and SED phenomenology is consistent with an interpretation of a blob propagating through a helical structured magnetic field and eventually crossing a standing shock in the jet, a scenario typically applied to flat spectrum radio quasars (FSRQs) and low-frequency peaked BL Lac objects (LBL).\n\u2022 ### Modeling the Dynamics of Glacial Cycles(1705.07387)\n\nMay 21, 2017 math.DS\nThis article is concerned with the dynamics of glacial cycles observed in the geological record of the Pleistocene Epoch. It focuses on a conceptual model proposed by Maasch and Saltzman [J. Geophys. Res.,95, D2 (1990), pp. 1955-1963], which is based on physical arguments and emphasizes the role of atmospheric CO2 in the generation and persistence of periodic orbits (limit cycles). The model consists of three ordinary differential equations with four parameters for the anomalies of the total global ice mass, the atmospheric CO2 concentration, and the volume of the North Atlantic Deep Water (NADW). In this article, it is shown that a simplified two-dimensional symmetric version displays many of the essential features of the full model, including equilibrium states, limit cycles, their basic bifurcations, and a Bogdanov-Takens point that serves as an organizing center for the local and global dynamics. Also, symmetry breaking splits the Bogdanov-Takens point into two, with different local dynamics in their neighborhoods.\n\u2022 Context. PKS 1510-089 is one of only a few flat spectrum radio quasars detected in the VHE (very-high-energy, > 100 GeV) gamma-ray band. Aims. We study the broadband spectral and temporal properties of the PKS 1510-089 emission during a high gamma-ray state. Methods. We performed VHE gamma-ray observations of PKS 1510-089 with the MAGIC telescopes during a long high gamma-ray state in May 2015. In order to perform broadband modelling of the source, we have also gathered contemporaneous multiwavelength data in radio, IR, optical photometry and polarization, UV, X-ray and GeV gamma-ray ranges. We construct a broadband spectral energy distribution (SED) in two periods, selected according to VHE gamma-ray state. Results. PKS 1510-089 has been detected by MAGIC during a few day-long observations performed in the middle of a long, high optical and gamma-ray state, showing for the first time a significant VHE gamma-ray variability. Similarly to the optical and gamma-ray high state of the source detected in 2012, it was accompanied by a rotation of the optical polarization angle and the emission of a new jet component observed in radio. However, due to large uncertainty on the knot separation time, the association with the VHE gamma-ray emission cannot be firmly established. The spectral shape in the VHE band during the flare is similar to the ones obtained during previous measurements of the source. The observed flux variability sets for the first time constraints on the size of the region from which VHE gamma rays are emitted. We model the broadband SED in the framework of the external Compton scenario and discuss the possible emission site in view of multiwavelength data and alternative emission models.\n\u2022 Upgraded electronics, improved water system dynamics, better calibration and analysis techniques allowed Super-Kamiokande-IV to clearly observe very low-energy 8B solar neutrino interactions, with recoil electron kinetic energies as low as 3.49 MeV. Super-Kamiokande-IV data-taking began in September of 2008; this paper includes data until February 2014, a total livetime of 1664 days. The measured solar neutrino flux is (2.308+-0.020(stat.) + 0.039-0.040(syst.)) x 106\/(cm2sec) assuming no oscillations. The observed recoil electron energy spectrum is consistent with no distortions due to neutrino oscillations. An extended maximum likelihood fit to the amplitude of the expected solar zenith angle variation of the neutrino-electron elastic scattering rate in SK-IV results in a day\/night asymmetry of (-3.6+-1.6(stat.)+-0.6(syst.))%. The SK-IV solar neutrino data determine the solar mixing angle as sin2 theta_12 = 0.327+0.026-0.031, all SK solar data (SK-I, SK-II, SK III and SKIV) measures this angle to be sin2 theta_12 = 0.334+0.027-0.023, the determined mass-squared splitting is Delta m2_21 = 4.8+1.5-0.8 x10-5 eV2.\n\u2022 ### A Pan-STARRS1 study of the relationship between wide binarity and planet occurrence in the Kepler field(1509.04712)\n\nDec. 3, 2015 astro-ph.SR, astro-ph.EP\nThe NASA Kepler mission has revolutionised time-domain astronomy and has massively expanded the number of known extrasolar planets. However, the effect of wide multiplicity on exoplanet occurrence has not been tested with this dataset. We present a sample of 401 wide multiple systems containing at least one Kepler target star. Our method uses Pan-STARRS1 and archival data to produce an accurate proper motion catalogue of the Kepler field. Combined with Pan-STARRS1 SED fits and archival proper motions for bright stars, we use a newly developed probabilistic algorithm to identify likely wide binary pairs which are not chance associations. As by-products of this we present stellar SED templates in the Pan-STARRS1 photometric system and conversions from this system to Kepler magnitudes. We find that Kepler target stars in our binary sample with separations above 6 arcseconds are no more or less likely to be identified as confirmed or candidate planet hosts than a weighted comparison sample of Kepler targets of similar brightness and spectral type. Therefore we find no evidence that binaries with projected separations greater than 3,000AU affect the occurrence rate of planets with P<300days around FGK stars.\n\u2022 ### Cross and magnetic helicity in the outer heliosphere from Voyager 2 observations(1504.08154)\n\nAug. 31, 2015 physics.plasm-ph, astro-ph.SR\nPlasma velocity and magnetic field measurements from the Voyager 2 mission are used to study solar wind turbulence in the slow solar wind at two different heliocentric distances, 5 and 29 astronomical units, sufficiently far apart to provide information on the radial evolution of this turbulence. The magnetic helicity and the cross-helicity, which express the correlation between the plasma velocity and the magnetic field, are used to characterize the turbulence. Wave number spectra are computed by means of the Taylor hypothesis applied to time resolved single point Voyager 2 measurements. The overall picture we get is complex and difficult to interpret. A substantial decrease of the cross-helicity at smaller scales (over 1-3 hours of observation) with increasing heliocentric distance is observed. At 5 AU the only peak in the probability density of the normalized residual energy is negative, near -0.5. At 29 AU the probability density becomes doubly peaked, with a negative peak at -0.5 and a smaller peak at a positive values of about 0.7. A decrease of the cross-helicity for increasing heliocentric distance is observed, together with a reduction of the unbalance toward the magnetic energy of the energy of the fluctuations. For the smaller scales, we found that at 29 AU the normalized polarization is small and positive on average (about 0.1), it is instead zero at 5 AU. For the larger scales, the polarization is low and positive at 5 AU (average around 0.1) while it is negative (around - 0.15) at 29 AU.\n\u2022 A flare from the TeV blazar Mrk 421, occurring in March 2010, was observed for 13 consecutive days from radio to very high energy (VHE, E > 100 GeV) gamma-rays with MAGIC, VERITAS, Whipple, FermiLAT, MAXI, RXTE, Swift, GASP-WEBT, and several optical and radio telescopes. We model the day-scale SEDs with one-zone and two-zone synchrotron self-Compton (SSC) models, investigate the physical parameters, and evaluate whether the observed broadband SED variability can be associated to variations in the relativistic particle population. Flux variability was remarkable in the X-ray and VHE bands while it was minor or not significant in the other bands. The one-zone SSC model can describe reasonably well the SED of each day for the 13 consecutive days. This flaring activity is also very well described by a two-zone SSC model, where one zone is responsible for the quiescent emission while the other smaller zone, which is spatially separated from the first one, contributes to the daily-variable emission occurring in X-rays and VHE gamma-rays. Both the one-zone SSC and the two-zone SSC models can describe the daily SEDs via the variation of only four or five model parameters, under the hypothesis that the variability is associated mostly to the underlying particle population. This shows that the particle acceleration and cooling mechanism producing the radiating particles could be the main one responsible for the broadband SED variations during the flaring episodes in blazars. The two-zone SSC model provides a better agreement to the observed SED at the narrow peaks of the low- and high-energy bumps during the highest activity, although the reported one-zone SSC model could be further improved by the variation of the parameters related to the emitting region itself ($\\delta$, $B$ and $R$), in addition to the parameters related to the particle population.\n\u2022 Super-Kamiokande (SK) can search for weakly interacting massive particles (WIMPs) by detecting neutrinos produced from WIMP annihilations occurring inside the Sun. In this analysis, we include neutrino events with interaction vertices in the detector in addition to upward-going muons produced in the surrounding rock. Compared to the previous result, which used the upward-going muons only, the signal acceptances for light (few-GeV\/$c^2$ $\\sim$ 200-GeV\/$c^2$) WIMPs are significantly increased. We fit 3903 days of SK data to search for the contribution of neutrinos from WIMP annihilation in the Sun. We found no significant excess over expected atmospheric-neutrino background and the result is interpreted in terms of upper limits on WIMP-nucleon elastic scattering cross sections under different assumptions about the annihilation channel. We set the current best limits on the spin-dependent (SD) WIMP-proton cross section for WIMP masses below 200 GeV\/$c^2$ (at 10 GeV\/$c^2$, 1.49$\\times 10^{-39}$ cm$^2$ for $\\chi\\chi\\rightarrow b \\bar{b}$ and 1.31$\\times 10^{-40}$ cm$^2$ for $\\chi\\chi\\rightarrow\\tau^+\\tau^-$ annihilation channels), also ruling out some fraction of WIMP candidates with spin-independent (SI) coupling in the few-GeV\/$c^2$ mass range.\n\u2022 ### Connection between inner jet kinematics and broadband flux variability in the BL Lac object S5 0716+714(1503.04218)\n\nMarch 13, 2015 astro-ph.HE\nWe present a high-frequency very long baseline interferometry (VLBI) kinematical study of the BL Lac object S5 0716+714 over the time period of September 2008 to October 2010. The aim of the study is to investigate the relation of the jet kinematics to the observed broadband flux variability. We find significant non-radial motions in the jet outflow of the source. In the radial direction, the highest measured apparent speed is \\sim37 c, which is exceptionally high, especially for a BL Lac object. Patterns in the jet flow reveal a roughly stationary feature \\sim0.15 mas downstream of the core. The long-term fits to the component trajectories reveal acceleration in the sub-mas region of the jet. The measured brightness temperature, T_{B}, follows a continuous trend of decline with distance, T_B \\propto r_{jet}^{-(2.36\\pm0.41)}, which suggests a gradient in Doppler factor along the jet axis. Our analysis suggest that a moving disturbance (or a shock wave) from the base of the jet produces the high-energy (optical to \\gamma-ray) variations upstream of the 7 mm core, and then later causes an outburst in the core. Repetitive optical\/\\gamma-ray flares and the curved trajectories of the associated components suggest that the shock front propagates along a bent trajectory or helical path. Sharper \\gamma-ray flares could be related to the passage of moving disturbances through the stationary feature. Our analysis suggests that the \\gamma-ray and radio emission regions have different Doppler factors.\n\u2022 ### Perplexing correlations between Gamma-ray emission and parsec-scale jet orientation variations in the BL Lac object S5 0716+714(1503.04219)\n\nMarch 13, 2015 astro-ph.HE\nThe analysis of $\\gamma$-ray flux variability along with the parsec-scale jet kinematics suggests that the high-energy radiation in the BL Lac object S5 0716+714 has a significant correlation with the mm-VLBI core flux density and with the local orientation of the inner jet flow. For the first time in any blazar, we report a significant correlation between the $\\gamma$-ray flux variations and the variations in the local orientation of the jet outflow (position angle). We find that the $\\gamma$-ray flux variations lead the 7~mm VLBI core flux variations by 82$\\pm$32~days, which suggests that the high-energy emission in S5 0716+714 is coming from a region located 3.8$\\pm$1.9~parsecs closer to the central black hole than the \"core\" seen on the mm-VLBI images. The results imply a strong physical and casual connection between $\\gamma$-ray emission and the inner jet morphology in the source.\n\u2022 ### Slow ionized wind and rotating disklike system associated with the high-mass young stellar object G345.4938+01.4677(1410.0233)\n\nOct. 15, 2014 astro-ph.SR\nWe report the detection, made using ALMA, of the 92 GHz continuum and hydrogen recombination lines (HRLs) H40$\\alpha$, H42$\\alpha$, and H50$\\beta$ emission toward the ionized wind associated with the high-mass young stellar object G345.4938+01.4677. This is the luminous central dominating source located in the massive and dense molecular clump associated with IRAS 16562$-$3959. The HRLs exhibit Voigt profiles, a strong signature of Stark broadening. We successfully reproduce the observed continuum and HRLs simultaneously using a simple model of a slow ionized wind in local thermodynamic equilibrium, with no need a high-velocity component. The Lorentzian line wings imply electron densities of $5\\times10^7$ cm$^{-3}$ on average. In addition, we detect SO and SO$_2$ emission arising from a compact ($\\sim3000$ AU) molecular core associated with the central young star. The molecular core exhibits a velocity gradient perpendicular to the jet-axis, which we interpret as evidence of rotation. The set of observations toward G345.4938+01.4677 are consistent with it being a young high-mass star associated with a slow photo-ionized wind.\n\u2022 ### Jet outflow and gamma-ray emission correlations in S5 0716+714(1410.0196)\n\nOct. 1, 2014 astro-ph.CO, astro-ph.HE\nUsing millimeter-very long baseline interferometry (VLBI) observations of the BL Lac object S5 0716+714 from August 2008 to September 2013, we investigate variations in the core flux density and orientation of the sub-parsec scale jet i.e. position angle. The gamma-ray data obtained by the Fermi-LAT (Large Area Telescope) are used to investigate the high-energy flux variations over the same time period. For the first time in any blazar, we report a significant correlation between the gamma-ray flux variations and the position angle (PA) variations in the VLBI jet. The cross-correlation analysis also indicates a positive correlation such that the mm-VLBI core flux density variations are delayed with respect to the gamma-ray flux by 82$\\pm$32 days. This suggests that the high-energy emission is coming from a region located $\\geq$(3.8$\\pm$1.9) parsecs upstream of the mm-VLBI core (closer to the central black hole). These results imply that the observed inner jet morphology has a strong connection with the observed gamma-ray flares.\n\u2022 We study the multifrequency emission and spectral properties of the quasar 3C 279. We observed 3C 279 in very high energy (VHE, E>100GeV) gamma rays, with the MAGIC telescopes during 2011, for the first time in stereoscopic mode. We combine these measurements with observations at other energy bands: in high energy (HE, E>100MeV) gamma rays from Fermi-LAT, in X-rays from RXTE, in the optical from the KVA telescope and in the radio at 43GHz, 37GHz and 15GHz from the VLBA, Mets\\\"ahovi and OVRO radio telescopes and optical polarisation measurements from the KVA and Liverpool telescopes. During the MAGIC observations (February to April 2011) 3C 279 was in a low state in optical, X-ray and gamma rays. The MAGIC observations did not yield a significant detection. These upper limits are in agreement with the extrapolation of the HE gamma-ray spectrum, corrected for extragalactic background light absorption, from Fermi-LAT. The second part of the MAGIC observations in 2011 was triggered by a high activity state in the optical and gamma-ray bands. During the optical outburst the optical electric vector position angle rotatated of about 180 degrees. There was no simultaneous rotation of the 43GHz radio polarisation angle. No VHE gamma rays were detected by MAGIC, and the derived upper limits suggest the presence of a spectral break or curvature between the Fermi-LAT and MAGIC bands. The combined upper limits are the strongest derived to date for the source at VHE and below the level of the previously detected flux by a factor 2. Radiation models that include synchrotron and inverse Compton emissions match the optical to gamma-ray data, assuming an emission component inside the broad line region (BLR) responsible for the high-energy emission and one outside the BLR and the infrared torus causing optical and low-energy emission. We interpreted the optical polarisation with a bent trajectory model.\n\u2022 Among more than fifty blazars detected in very high energy (VHE, E>100GeV) gamma-rays, only three belong to the subclass of Flat Spectrum Radio Quasars (FSRQs). MAGIC observed FSRQ PKS 1510-089 in February-April 2012 during a high activity state in the high energy (HE, E>100 MeV) gamma-ray band observed by AGILE and Fermi. MAGIC observations result in the detection of a source with significance of 6.0 sigma. In agreement with the previous VHE observations of the source, we find no statistically significant variability during the MAGIC observations in daily, weekly or monthly time scales. The other two known VHE FSRQs have shown daily scale to sub-hour variability. We study the multifrequency behaviour of the source at the epoch of MAGIC observation, collecting quasi-simultaneous data at radio and optical (GASP-WEBT and F-Gamma collaborations, REM, Steward, Perkins, Liverpool, OVRO and VLBA telescopes), X-ray (Swift satellite) and HE gamma-ray frequencies. The gamma-ray SED combining AGILE, Fermi and MAGIC data joins smoothly and shows no hint of a break. The multifrequency light curves suggest a common origin for the millimeter radio and HE gamma-ray emission and the HE gamma-ray flaring starts when the new component is ejected from the 43GHz VLBA core. The quasi-simultaneous multifrequency SED is modelled with a one-zone inverse Compton model. We study two different origins of the seed photons for the inverse Compton scattering, namely the infra-red torus and a slow sheath surrounding the jet around the VLBA core. Both models fit the data well. However, the fast HE gamma-ray variability requires that within the modelled large emitting region, there must exist more compact regions. We suggest that these observed signatures would be most naturally explained by a turbulent plasma flowing at a relativistic speed down the jet and crossing a standing conical shock.\n\u2022 ### The Outburst of the Blazar S40954+658 in March-April 2011(1406.2286)\n\nJune 9, 2014 astro-ph.GA, astro-ph.HE\nWe present the results of optical (R band) photometric and polarimetric monitoring and Very Long Baseline Array (VLBA) imaging of the blazar S4 0954+658, along with Fermi and gamma;-ray data during a multi-waveband outburst in 2011 March-April. After a faint state with a brightness level R ~17.6 mag registered in the first half of January 2011, the optical brightness of the source started to rise and reached ~14.8 mag during the middle of March, showing flare-like behavior. The most spectacular case of intranight variability was observed during the night of 2011 March 9, when the blazar brightened by ~0.7 mag within ~7 hours. During the rise of the flux the position angle of optical polarization rotated smoothly over more than 300$\\deg$. At the same time, within 1$\\sigma$ uncertainty a new superluminal knot appeared with an apparent speed of 19.0$\\pm$0.3 c. We have very strong evidence for association of this knot with the multi-waveband outburst in 2011 March-April. We also analyze the multi-frequency behavior of S4 0954+658 during a number of minor outbursts from August 2008 to April 2012. We find some evidence of connections between at least two more superluminal ejecta and near-simultaneous optical flares.\n\u2022 The preponderance of matter over antimatter in the early Universe, the dynamics of the supernova bursts that produced the heavy elements necessary for life and whether protons eventually decay --- these mysteries at the forefront of particle physics and astrophysics are key to understanding the early evolution of our Universe, its current state and its eventual fate. The Long-Baseline Neutrino Experiment (LBNE) represents an extensively developed plan for a world-class experiment dedicated to addressing these questions. LBNE is conceived around three central components: (1) a new, high-intensity neutrino source generated from a megawatt-class proton accelerator at Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory, (2) a near neutrino detector just downstream of the source, and (3) a massive liquid argon time-projection chamber deployed as a far detector deep underground at the Sanford Underground Research Facility. This facility, located at the site of the former Homestake Mine in Lead, South Dakota, is approximately 1,300 km from the neutrino source at Fermilab -- a distance (baseline) that delivers optimal sensitivity to neutrino charge-parity symmetry violation and mass ordering effects. This ambitious yet cost-effective design incorporates scalability and flexibility and can accommodate a variety of upgrades and contributions. With its exceptional combination of experimental configuration, technical capabilities, and potential for transformative discoveries, LBNE promises to be a vital facility for the field of particle physics worldwide, providing physicists from around the globe with opportunities to collaborate in a twenty to thirty year program of exciting science. In this document we provide a comprehensive overview of LBNE's scientific objectives, its place in the landscape of neutrino physics worldwide, the technologies it will incorporate and the capabilities it will possess.\n\u2022 ### Two-Color Theory with Novel Infrared Behavior(1311.4889)\n\nNov. 19, 2013 hep-ph, hep-lat\nUsing lattice simulations, we study the infrared behavior of a particularly interesting SU(2) gauge theory, with six massless Dirac fermions in the fundamental representation. We compute the running gauge coupling derived non-perturbatively from the Schrodinger functional of the theory, finding no evidence for an infrared fixed point up through gauge couplings of order 20. This implies that the theory either is governed in the infrared by a fixed point of considerable strength, unseen so far in non-supersymmetric gauge theories, or breaks its global chiral symmetries producing a large number of composite Nambu-Goldstone bosons relative to the number of underlying degrees of freedom. Thus either of these phases exhibits novel behavior.\n\u2022 ### A search for the analogue to Cherenkov radiation by high energy neutrinos at superluminal speeds in ICARUS(1110.3763)\n\nMarch 8, 2012 hep-ex\nThe OPERA collaboration has claimed evidence of superluminal {\\nu}{_\\mu} propagation between CERN and the LNGS. Cohen and Glashow argued that such neutrinos should lose energy by producing photons and e+e- pairs, through Z0 mediated processes analogous to Cherenkov radiation. In terms of the parameter delta=(v^2_nu-v^2_c)\/v^2_c, the OPERA result implies delta = 5 x 10^-5. For this value of \\delta a very significant deformation of the neutrino energy spectrum and an abundant production of photons and e+e- pairs should be observed at LNGS. We present an analysis based on the 2010 and part of the 2011 data sets from the ICARUS experiment, located at Gran Sasso National Laboratory and using the same neutrino beam from CERN. We find that the rates and deposited energy distributions of neutrino events in ICARUS agree with the expectations for an unperturbed spectrum of the CERN neutrino beam. Our results therefore refute a superluminal interpretation of the OPERA result according to the Cohen and Glashow prediction for a weak current analog to Cherenkov radiation. In particular no superluminal Cherenkov like e+e- pair or gamma emission event has been directly observed inside the fiducial volume of the \"bubble chamber like\" ICARUS TPC-LAr detector, setting the much stricter limit of delta < 2.5 10^-8 at the 90% confidence level, comparable with the one due to the observations from the SN1987A.\n\u2022 ### Electron-phonon Coupling on the Surface of the Topological Insulator Bi2Se3: Determined from Surface Phonon Dispersion Measurements(1201.6346)\n\nIn this letter we report measurements of the coupling between Dirac fermion quasiparticles (DFQs) and phonons on the (001) surface of the strong topological insulator Bi2Se3. While most contemporary investigations of this coupling have involved examining the temperature dependence of the DFQ self-energy via angle-resolved photoemission spectroscopy (ARPES) measurements, we employ inelastic helium atom scattering to explore, for the first time, this coupling from the phonon perspective. Using a Hilbert transform, we are able to obtain the imaginary part of the phonon self-energy associated with a dispersive surface phonon branch identified in our previous work [1] as having strong interactions with the DFQs. From this imaginary part of the self-energy we obtain a branch-specific electron-phonon coupling constant of 0.43, which is stronger than the values reported form the ARPES measurements.\n\u2022 The T2K experiment observes indications of $\\nu_\\mu\\rightarrow \\nu_e$ appearance in data accumulated with $1.43\\times10^{20}$ protons on target. Six events pass all selection criteria at the far detector. In a three-flavor neutrino oscillation scenario with $|\\Delta m_{23}^2|=2.4\\times10^{-3}$ eV$^2$, $\\sin^2 2\\theta_{23}=1$ and $\\sin^2 2\\theta_{13}=0$, the expected number of such events is 1.5$\\pm$0.3(syst.). Under this hypothesis, the probability to observe six or more candidate events is 7$\\times10^{-3}$, equivalent to 2.5$\\sigma$ significance. At 90% C.L., the data are consistent with 0.03(0.04)$<\\sin^2 2\\theta_{13}<$ 0.28(0.34) for $\\delta_{\\rm CP}=0$ and a normal (inverted) hierarchy.\n\u2022 ### Optical photometry and basic parameters of 10 unstudied open clusters(1001.3001)\n\nJan. 18, 2010 astro-ph.GA, astro-ph.SR\nWe present BVI CCD photometry of 10 northern open clusters, Berkeley 43, Berkeley 45, Berkeley 47, NGC 6846, Berkeley 49, Berkeley 51, Berkeley 89, Berkeley 91, Tombaugh 4 and Berkeley 9, and estimate their fundamental parameters. Eight of the clusters are located in the first galactic quadrant and 2 are in the second. This is the first optical photometry for 8 clusters. All of them are embedded in rich galactic fields and have large reddening towards them (E(B-V) = 1.0 - 2.3 mag). There is a possibility that some of these difficult-to-study clusters may be asterisms rather than physical systems, but assuming they are physical clusters, we find that 8 of them are located beyond 2 kpc, and 6 clusters (60% of the sample) are located well above or below the Galactic plane. Seven clusters have ages 500 Myr or less and the other 3 are 1 Gyr or more in age. This sample of clusters has increased the optical photometry of clusters in the second half of the first galactic quadrant, beyond 2 kpc, from 10 to 15. NGC 6846 is found to be one of the most distant clusters in this region of the Galaxy.\n\u2022 ### The effect of integration time on fluctuation measurements: calibrating an optical trap in the presence of motion blur(physics\/0607156)\n\nDynamical instrument limitations, such as finite detection bandwidth, do not simply add statistical errors to fluctuation measurements, but can create significant systematic biases that affect the measurement of steady-state properties. Such effects must be considered when calibrating ultra-sensitive force probes by analyzing the observed Brownian fluctuations. In this article, we present a novel method for extracting the true spring constant and diffusion coefficient of a harmonically confined Brownian particle that extends the standard equipartition and power spectrum techniques to account for video-image motion blur. These results are confirmed both numerically with a Brownian dynamics simulation, and experimentally with laser optical tweezers.\n\u2022 ### The Electron Temperature Gradient in the Galactic Disk(astro-ph\/0609006)\n\nSept. 1, 2006 astro-ph","date":"2020-08-08 02:48:29","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.5978633165359497, \"perplexity\": 2392.525188004582}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": false, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 15, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2020-34\/segments\/1596439737238.53\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20200808021257-20200808051257-00568.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
\section{Introduction}
The running of the gauge coupling constant with the scale is generally computed in quantum field theories using a perturbative approach which consists in expansion in a small parameter. In the dimensional regularization scheme beta function for QED is known at the fourth order whereas that for QCD at the fifth one \cite{Vladimirov}-\cite{Baikov}. It is known that the first two order coefficients are renormalization scheme independent whereas the next ones depend on the specific renormalization procedure. In \cite{Hooft1}, \cite{Hooft2} 't Hooft introduced a procedure in which the beta function stops at two loops.
In \cite{Jora1}we used a semi perturbative technique to compute the beta function for QED to obtain that the beta function stops at two loops. This method was further simplified and improved in \cite{Jora} where the exact form of the beta function for the Yang Mills theory has been determined from properties of the partition function and various correlators and by the use of the LSZ theorem. In the present work we extend our method to the more intricate case of the beta function of QCD with an arbitrary number of flavors. Whereas this case require more work the principles settled in \cite{Jora} remain unaltered. We determine that as in \cite{Jora1}, \cite{Jora} the all orders beta function stops at the two first orders coefficients. Note that this result is obtained without using any Feynman diagram or expansion in a small parameter.
\section{Partition function for an $SU(N)$ theory with $N_f$ flavors}
We start with the gauge fixed Lagrangian for an $SU(N)$ gauge theory with $N_f$ fermions in the fundamental representation:
\begin{eqnarray}
{\cal L}=-\frac{1}{4}(F^a_{\mu\nu})^2+\bar{c}^a(-\partial^{\mu}\partial_{\mu}-g f^{abc}\partial^{\mu}A^b_{\mu})c^c+\sum_f\bar{\Psi}(i\gamma^{\mu}D_{\mu}-m_f)\Psi,
\label{rez5467}
\end{eqnarray}
where,
\begin{eqnarray}
F^a_{\mu\nu}=\partial_{\mu}A^a_{\nu}-\partial_{\nu}A^a_{\mu}+gf^{abc}A^b_{\mu}A^c_{\nu},
\label{ten45678}
\end{eqnarray}
and,
\begin{eqnarray}
D_{\mu}=\partial_{\mu}-igA^a_{\mu}t^a.
\label{cov554}
\end{eqnarray}
Here $t^a$ is the generator of $SU(N)$ in the fundamental representation and for simplicity we shall consider $m_f=0$.
We shall work in the Feynman gauge ($\xi=1$). One can express all the fields in the Fourier space:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&A^a_{\mu}(x)=\frac{1}{V}\sum_n\exp[-i k_n x]A^a_{\mu}(k_n)
\nonumber\\
&&\Psi(x)=\frac{1}{V}\sum_m\exp[-i k_m x]\Psi(k_m)
\nonumber\\
&&c^b(x)=\frac{1}{V}\sum_p\exp[-i k_p x]c^b(k_p).
\label{fourier456}
\end{eqnarray}
Then the Lagrangian takes the form:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&\int d^4x {\cal L}=-\frac{1}{2}\frac{1}{V} \sum_n k_n^2A^{a\nu}(k_n)A^a_{\nu}(-k_n)+\frac{1}{V}\sum_n k_n^2 \bar{c}^a(k_n)c^a(-k_n)+
\nonumber\\
&&+\frac{i}{V^2}g\sum_{n,m} k_n^{\mu}A^a_{\nu}(k_n)f^{abc}A^b_{\mu}(k_m)A^{c\nu}(-k_n-k_m)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{1}{V^3}g^2f^{abc}f^{ade}\sum_{n,m,p}A^{b\mu}(k_n)A^{c\nu}(k_m)A^d_{\mu}(k_p)A^e_{\nu}(-k_n-k_m-k_p)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{i}{V^2}\sum_{n,m}k_n^{\mu}\bar{c}^a(k_n)gf^{abc}A^b_{\mu}(k_m)c^c(-k_n-k_m)+
\nonumber\\
&&\frac{1}{V}\sum_f\sum_n\bar{\Psi}_f(k_n)\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu n}\Psi_f(k_n)+\frac{1}{V^2}g\sum_f\sum_{n,m}\bar{\Psi}_f(k_n)\gamma^{\mu}A^a_{\mu}(k_n-k_m)t^a\Psi_f(k_m).
\label{four65788}
\end{eqnarray}
The zero current partition function has the form:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_0=\int \prod_i\prod_j\prod_m \prod_{fl}\prod_n\prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j)d c^d(k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}],
\label{part456}
\end{eqnarray}
where the exponent is considered in the Fourier space.
It is useful at this stage to settle some of the properties of $Z_0$. It is known that $Z_0$ apart from a factor in front is given by the exponential of the sum of all disconnected diagrams:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_0={\rm factor}\times \exp[\sum_i V_i]
\label{disc4567}
\end{eqnarray}
where $V_i$ is a typical disconnected diagram. Since the calculation is done in the absence of external sources all $V_i$ diagrams are closed and contain summations over momenta (that appear in propagators or vertices) and thus do not depend at all on any momenta. The factor in front is a product obtained from integrating the gaussian integrals corresponding to the kinetic terms.
The final result has thus the expression:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_0= {\rm const} \prod_i (k_i^2)^{N^2-1}\prod_j (k_j^2)^{-d/2(N^2-1)}\prod_p (\gamma^{\mu}p_{\mu}-m)^{N_fN}\exp[\sum_i V_i]
\label{part4567}
\end{eqnarray}
where N is coming from the Yang Mills group $SU(N)$ and the first factor corresponds to the ghosts, the second to the gluon fields and the third to the fermion fields.
We shall apply the same procedure as in \cite{Jora} to determine whole properties of the partition function and of the fields.
First we consider the partition function in Eq. (\ref{part456}) and introduce in the integrand the quantity $\frac{d A^a_{\nu}(k)}{d A^a_{\nu}(k)}$ to obtain:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=\int \prod_{fl} \prod_i \prod_j \prod_n\prod_p\prod_m d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m) d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\exp[i \int d^4x{\cal L}]=
\nonumber\\
&&=\int \prod_{fl} \prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n\prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m) d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\frac{ d A^a_{\nu}(k)}{d A^a_{\nu}(k)}\exp[i \int d^4x{\cal L}]=
\nonumber\\
&&= \int \prod_{fl} \prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n\prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m) d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\frac{d}{d A^a_{\nu}(k)}[ A^a_{\nu}(k)\exp[i \int d^4x{\cal L}]]-
\nonumber\\
&&-\int \prod_{fl} \prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n\prod_pd A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m) d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)A^a_{\nu}(k)\frac{d}{d A^a_{\nu}(k)}\exp[i \int d^4x{\cal L}],
\label{rez54678}
\end{eqnarray}
where $\prod_{fl}$ contains separate products over flavors and colors.
The first term on the right side of the Eq. (\ref{rez54678}),
\begin{eqnarray}
&&\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n\prod_p dA^d_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m) d\bar{\Psi}_f(k_n) d\Psi(k_p)A^a_{\nu}(k)\exp[i \int d^4x{\cal L}]_{A^a_{\nu}(k)=+\infty}-
\nonumber\\
&&\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n\prod_p d A^d_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_f(k_n) d\Psi(k_p) A^a_{\nu}(k)\exp[i \int d^4x{\cal L}]_{A^a_{\nu}(k)=-\infty},
\label{expr7689}
\end{eqnarray}
is zero since the $\epsilon$ term in the kinetic term will lead to an exponential that goes to zero (see \cite{Jora} for more detailed explanation). Here the product satisfy the constraint: $A^d_{\mu}(k_i)\neq A^a_{\mu}(k)$).
The second contribution leads to the result:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)(-i)[-\frac{k^2}{V}A^{a\nu}(k)A^a_{\nu}(-k)+
\nonumber\\
&&\frac{3i}{V^2}gk^{\mu}\sum_pf^{abc}A^a_{\nu}(k)A^b_{\mu}(p)A^{c\nu}(-k-p) -\frac{i}{V^2}g\sum_pp^{\nu} \bar{c}^b(p)f^{bac}A^{a}_{\nu}(k)c^c(-p-k)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{1}{V^3}g^2f^{bac}f^{bde}\sum_{p,q}A^a_{\nu}(k)A^c_{\mu}(p)A^{d\nu}(q)A^{e\mu}(-p-k-q)+
\nonumber\\
&&g\frac{1}{V^2} \sum_p\bar{\Psi}(p)\gamma^{\mu}t^aA^a_{\mu}(k)\Psi(-p-k)]\times\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{one65789}
\end{eqnarray}
We apply the same procedure to the partition function but this time introduce in the integrand the quantity $\frac{d \bar{\Psi}_{f_1}^r}{d \bar{\Psi}_{f_1}^r}$, where $f$ is a flavor index and $r$ is a color one. This yields:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=-i\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j\prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&[\frac{1}{V}\bar{\Psi}_f^r\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu}\Psi_f^r+\frac{1}{v^2}\sum_p\bar{\Psi}^r_f(k)\gamma^{\mu}p_{\mu}t^a_{rj}A^a_{\mu}(-p+k)\Psi_f^j(p)]\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{fermrel8767}
\end{eqnarray}
Here we used the fact:
\begin{eqnarray}
-i\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\bar{\Psi}^r_{f_1}(k)\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}]|_{\bar{\Psi}^i_f(k)\rightarrow\pm\infty}=0
\label{cond556}
\end{eqnarray}
since the spinors fields anticommute and there is no pairing for $\Psi^r_{f_1}(k)$ (there is no integration over $\bar{\Psi}^r_{f_1}(k)$) and thus the result is zero.
A similar procedure applied to the ghost field $c^c(k)$ leads to:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=-i\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_pd A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&[\frac{1}{V}k^2\bar{c}^c(k)k^2c^c(k)-\frac{i}{V^2}g\sum_p\bar{c}^a(p)p^{\mu}f^{abc}c^c(k)A^b_{\mu}(p-k)]\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{ghost677}
\end{eqnarray}
Next we apply the operator $k^{\mu}\frac{d}{d k^{\mu}}$ to the Eq. (\ref{part456}) to obtain:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&k^{\mu}\frac{d Z_0}{d k^{\mu}}=\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&i[-\frac{1}{V}k^2A^{a\nu}(k)A^a_{\nu}(-k)+\frac{2}{V}k^2\bar{c}^a(k)c^a(-k)+\frac{i}{V^2}k^{\mu}\sum_{p}A^a_{\nu}(k)f^{abc}gA^b_{\mu}(p)A^{c\nu}(-p-k)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{i}{V^2}\sum_{p}k^{\mu}\bar{c}^a(k)gf^{abc}A^b_{\mu}(p)c^c(-p-k)+\frac{1}{V}\bar{\Psi}(k)\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu}\Psi(k)]\times\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}],
\label{sec4355}
\end{eqnarray}
where from Eq. (\ref{part4567}) we calculate:
\begin{eqnarray}
k^{\mu}\frac{d Z_0} {\partial k^{\mu}}=\left[N_f N-2(N^2-1)[\frac{d}{2}-1]\right]Z_0.
\label{some324}
\end{eqnarray}
\section{Renormalization}
In this section we shall consider all the results in section II from the perspective of renormalization. Thus the renormalized Lagrangian is:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&\int d^4 x{\cal L}_r=-\frac{1}{2}\frac{1}{V}Z_3 \sum_n k_n^2A^{a\nu}(k_n)A^a_{\nu}(-k_n)+\frac{1}{V}Z_1\sum_n k_n^2 \bar{c}^a(k_n)c^a(-k_n)+
\nonumber\\
&&+\frac{i}{V^2}Z_{3g}g\sum_{n,m} k_n^{\mu}A^a_{\nu}(k_n)f^{abc}A^b_{\mu}(k_m)A^{c\nu}(-k_n-k_m)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{1}{V^3}Z_{4g}g^2f^{abc}f^{ade}\sum_{n,m,p}A^{b\mu}(k_n)A^{c\nu}(k_m)A^d_{\mu}(k_p)A^e_{\nu}(-k_n-k_m-k_p)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{i}{V^2}Z_1'\sum_{n,m}k_n^{\mu}\bar{c}^a(k_n)gf^{abc}A^b_{\mu}(k_m)c^c(-k_n-k_m)+
\nonumber\\
&&\frac{1}{V}Z_2\sum_f\sum_n\bar{\Psi}_f(k_n)\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu n}\Psi_f(k_n)+\frac{1}{V^2}g Z_2'\sum_f\sum_{n,m}\bar{\Psi}_f(k_n)\gamma^{\mu}A^a_{\mu}t^a\Psi(k_m)_f.
\label{four6522788}
\end{eqnarray}
where for simplicity we drop the index $r$ from the renormalized fields.
Then Eq. (\ref{one65789}) will become:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)(-i)[-Z_3\frac{k^2}{V}A^{a\nu}(k)A^a_{\nu}(-k)+
\nonumber\\
&&Z_{3g}\frac{3i}{V^2}gk^{\mu}\sum_pf^{abc}A^a_{\nu}(k)A^b_{\mu}(p)A^{c\nu}(-k-p) -\frac{i}{V^2}Z_1'g\sum_pp^{\nu} \bar{c}^b(p)f^{bac}A^{a}_{\nu}(k)c^c(-p-k)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{1}{V^3}g^2Z_{4g}f^{bac}f^{bde}\sum_{p,q}A^a_{\nu}(k)A^c_{\mu}(p)A^{d\nu}(q)A^{e\mu}(-p-k-q)+
\nonumber\\
&&g\frac{1}{V^2}Z_2'g \sum_p\bar{\Psi}(p)\gamma^{\mu}t^aA^a_{\mu}(k)\Psi(-p-k)]\times\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{one657891}
\end{eqnarray}
Eq. (\ref{fermrel8767}) will transform to,
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=-i\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&[\frac{1}{V}Z_2\bar{\Psi}_f^r\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu}\Psi_f^r+\frac{1}{V^2}Z_2'g\sum_p\bar{\Psi}^r_f(k)\gamma^{\mu}p_{\mu}t^a_{rj}A^a_{\mu}(-p+k)\Psi_f^j(p)]\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{fermrel87672}
\end{eqnarray}
whereas Eq. (\ref{ghost677}) yields:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_0=-i\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&[\frac{1}{V}Z_1k^2\bar{c}^c(k)k^2c^c(k)-\frac{i}{V^2}g Z_1'\sum_p\bar{c}^a(p)p^{\mu}f^{abc}c^c(k)A^b_{\mu}(p-k)]\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{ghost6778}
\end{eqnarray}
Finally Eq. (\ref{sec4355}) will lead to:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&k^{\mu}\frac{d Z_0}{d k^{\mu}}=\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d (k_m)d\bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d\Psi_{fl}(k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&i[-\frac{1}{V}Z_3k^2A^{a\nu}(k)A^a_{\nu}(-k)+Z_1\frac{2}{V}k^2\bar{c}^a(k)c^a(-k)+\frac{i}{V^2}Z_{3g}k^{\mu}\sum_{p}A^a_{\nu}(k)f^{abc}gA^b_{\mu}(p)A^{c\nu}(-p-k)-
\nonumber\\
&&-\frac{i}{V^2}Z_1'\sum_{p}k^{\mu}\bar{c}^a(k)gf^{abc}A^b_{\mu}(p)c^c(-p-k)+\frac{1}{V}Z_2\bar{\Psi}(k)\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu}\Psi(k)]\times\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}].
\label{sec435532}
\end{eqnarray}
\section{Relations among the renormalization constants}
In the path integral formalism the two point gluon function has the expression:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&\langle\Omega | T[A^a_{\mu}(x_1)A^b_{\nu}(x_2)] |\Omega\rangle=
\nonumber\\
&&\lim_{T\rightarrow \infty(1-i\epsilon)}\frac{\int d A^c_{\rho} d\bar{c}^d d c^e d\bar{\Psi}d\Psi A^a_{\mu}(x_1)A^b_{\nu}(x_2)\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}]}
{\int d A^c_{\rho}d\bar{c}^d d c^e d\bar{\Psi}d\Psi\exp[i\int d^4x {\cal L}]}.
\label{equibrel65789}
\end{eqnarray}
We apply the LSZ reduction formula in the path integral formalism and in the Fourier space:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&\langle \Omega|T[A^a_{\mu}(p_1)...A^d_{\nu}(p_m)A^b_{\rho}(k_1)...A^e_{\sigma}(k_n)]|\Omega\rangle\sim
\nonumber\\
&&\sim_{p_i^0(k_j^0)\rightarrow E_{\vec{p}_i}(E_{\vec{k}_j})}{\rm polarization\,factor}\times{\rm const}\times\langle \vec{p}_1...\vec{p}_m|S|\vec{k}_1...\vec{k}_n\rangle
\left(\prod_{i=1}^m\frac{i Z_3^{1/2}}{p_i^2+i\epsilon}\right) \left(\prod_{j=1}^n\frac{i Z_3^{1/2}}{k_j^2+i\epsilon}\right).
\label{LSZred546}
\end{eqnarray}
In \cite{Jora} we illustrate in detail how we apply this formula to the gauge and ghost terms in the relations in Eqs. (\ref{one657891}), (\ref{fermrel87672}), (\ref{ghost6778}) and (\ref{sec435532}).
LSZ formula is more intricate and complicated for fermions as it can be seen from the following equation for a process with two initial and two final fermions \cite{Srednicki}:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&_{out}{\langle} f|i \rangle_{in}=\langle f|S|i\rangle\approx
\int d^4 x_1 d^4 x_2 d^4 y_1 d^4 y_2 \exp[-i k_1 y_1][\bar{u}_{s_1^{\prime}}(k_1)(-i\gamma^{\mu}{\partial}_{\mu y_1}+m)]_{\beta_1}\times
\nonumber\\
&&\exp[-i k_2 y_2][\bar{u}_{s_2^{\prime}}(k_2)(-i\gamma^{\mu}{\partial}_{\mu y_2}+m)]_{\beta_2}\times
\nonumber\\
&&\langle 0 |T\Psi_{\beta_2}(y_2)\Psi_{\beta_1}(y_1)\bar{\Psi}_{\alpha_1}(x_1)\bar{\Psi}_{\alpha_2}(x_2)| 0\rangle\times
\nonumber\\
&&[(i\gamma^{\mu}\overleftarrow{\partial}_{\mu x_1}+m)u_{s_1}(p_1)]_{\alpha_1}]\exp[ip_1x_1]\times
\nonumber\\
&&[(i\gamma^{\mu}\overleftarrow{\partial}_{\mu x_2}+m)u_{s_2}(p_2)]_{\alpha_2}]\exp[ip_2x_2].
\label{fermions434}
\end{eqnarray}
Here $\alpha_1$, $\alpha_2$, $\beta_1$ and $\beta_2$ are spinor indices and all momenta are on shell.
This formula is too intricate to be easily applicable to our calculations. If $a_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p}$ and $b_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})$ are the operators that create a one particle state with charge 1 respectively -1 one can write:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&a_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})_{in} \rightarrow i \int d^4 x \bar{\Psi}(x)(i\gamma^{\mu}\overleftarrow{\partial}_{\mu}+m)u_s(\vec{p})\exp[i p x]
\nonumber\\
&&a_s(\vec{p})_{out} \rightarrow i \int d^4 x \exp[-i p x]\bar{u}_s(\vec{p}))(-i\gamma^{\mu}\partial_{\mu}+m)\Psi(x)
\nonumber\\
&&b_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})_{in} \rightarrow i \int d^4 x\exp[i p x]\bar{v}_s(\vec{p}))(-i\gamma^{\mu}\partial_{\mu}+m)\Psi(x)
\nonumber\\
&&b_s(\vec{p})_{out} \rightarrow i \int d^4 x \bar{\Psi}(x)(i\gamma^{\mu}\overleftarrow{\partial}_{\mu}+m)v_s(\vec{p})\exp[-i p x].
\label{rez44343}
\end{eqnarray}
Let us rewrite the first equation in (\ref{rez44343}) in the Fourier:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&a_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})=i \int d^4 x\int \frac{d^4 k}{(2\pi)^4}\bar{\Psi}(k)\exp[i k x](i\gamma^{\mu}\overleftarrow{\partial}_{\mu}+m)u_s(\vec{p}) \exp[ i p x]=
\nonumber\\
&&i \int d^4 x \int \frac{d^4k}{(2\pi)^4}\exp[i k x]\bar{\Psi}(k)(-\gamma^{\mu}k_{\mu}+m)u_s(\vec{p}) \exp[i p x]=
\nonumber\\
&&i\bar{\Psi}(p)(\gamma^{\mu}p_{\mu}+m)u_s(\vec{p}),
\label{rel77678}
\end{eqnarray}
The above formula is still useless as we need to express $\bar{\Psi}(\vec{p})$ in terms of the other quantities. In order to solve that we consider the sum:
\begin{eqnarray}
\sum_s a_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})_{in}\bar{u}_s(\vec{p})=\sum_s i\bar{\Psi}(p)(\gamma^{\mu}p_{\mu}+m)u_s(\vec{p})\bar{u}_s(\vec{p}).
\label{rez221345}
\end{eqnarray}
Knowing that the following formula holds,
\begin{eqnarray}
\sum_s u_s(\vec{p})\bar{u}_s(\vec{p})=(-\gamma^{\mu}p_{\mu}+m),
\label{form77688}
\end{eqnarray}
we obtain:
\begin{eqnarray}
\sum_s a_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})_{in}\bar{u}_s(\vec{p})= -i\bar{\Psi}(p)(p^2-m^2).
\label{rez443566}
\end{eqnarray}
From Eq. (\ref{rez443566}) we extract:
\begin{eqnarray}
\bar{\Psi}(p)=i \sum_sa_s^{\dagger}(\vec{p})_{in}\bar{u}_s(\vec{p})\frac{1}{p^2-m^2}.
\label{def3455}
\end{eqnarray}
As stated in section II we shall take $m_f=0$ in all subsequent calculations.
Now we shall apply all these findings to Eq. (\ref{one657891}). The results from applying the LSZ reduction formula for the gauge fields and ghosts are detailed in \cite{Jora}. Here we
shall consider only the fermion fields. First we divide Eq. (\ref{one657891}) by $Z_0$ which yields:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&1={\rm terms\, that\, do \, not \,involve\, fermions}+
\frac{1}{Z_0}\int \prod_{fl}\prod_i \prod_j \prod_m \prod_n \prod_p d A^a_{\mu}(k_i) d \bar{c}^b(k_j) d c^d(k_m) d \bar{\Psi}_{fl}(k_n) d \Psi_{fl}( k_p)\times
\nonumber\\
&&(-i)g\frac{1}{V^2}Z_2' \sum_p \bar{\Psi}(p)\gamma^{\mu}t^a_rA^a_{\mu}\Psi(p-k) \exp[i \int d^4 x {\cal L}].
\label{res442324}
\end{eqnarray}
But the last term in Eq.(\ref{res442324}) is just :
\begin{eqnarray}
(-i)g\frac{1}{V^2}Z_2'\sum_p\langle \Omega|T[\bar{\Psi}(p)\gamma^{\mu}t^a_rA^a_{\mu}(k)\Psi(p-k)|\Omega\rangle.
\label{rez3989}
\end{eqnarray}
Then by applying Eqs. (\ref{fermions434}) and (\ref{def3455}) to Eq. (\ref{rez3989}) one obtains for Eq. (\ref{res442324}):
\begin{eqnarray}
&&1={\rm terms\, that\, do \, not\, involve\, fermions}+
(-i)g\frac{1}{V^2}Z_2'\sum_p \frac{1}{p^2(p+k)^2k^2}\times {\rm const}
\nonumber\\
&&\sum_{s,s'}(t^a_r)_{ij}\bar{u}_s(\vec{p})\langle (\vec{p},s)_i;\vec{k}\epsilon_{k\mu}^a|\gamma^{\mu}S|((p+k),s')_j\rangle u_{s'}(\overrightarrow{p+k}).
\label{rezsd4356}
\end{eqnarray}
Note that in the above equation the term in brackets actually contains the vertex function $V^{a}_{ij}$ which is known by the renormalization conditions. Then one can write:
\begin{eqnarray}
\bar{u}(\vec{p})V^{a\mu}_{ji}\gamma_{\mu}(t^a_r)_{ij}u_s(\vec{p+k})\approx \frac{N^2-1}{2}gp^2
\label{res54677}
\end{eqnarray}
where we used the fact that for an on shell fermion $p^2=m^2$ and also as defined in the present work the vertex function ($V^{a\mu}_{ji}=gt^a_{ji}p^{\mu}$)contains already a compression between two fermion states. Also note that the factor $\sum_p \frac{p^2}{k^2p^2(k+p)^2}$ in the limit of on shell states leads to a constant.
Since similar procedure (see also \cite{Jora}) applies to all the fields and interaction that appear in Eqs. (\ref{one657891}), (\ref{fermrel87672}), (\ref{ghost6778}) and (\ref{sec435532}) these relations will become:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&1=aZ_3+b Z_{3g}g^2+c Z_1'g^2+d Z_{4g}g^4+g Z_2' g^2
\nonumber\\
&&s_1=s_2Z_2+ s_3 Z_2' g^2
\nonumber\\
&&r_1=r_2Z_1+r_3Z_1' g^2
\nonumber\\
&&x=yZ_3+z Z_1+ q Z_2+u Z_{3g}g^2+w Z_1'g^2,
\label{finalreljki7}
\end{eqnarray}
where we absorbed all the constants in front of the terms in the new coefficients $a$, $b$, $c$, $d$, $e$, $x$, $y$, $z$, $q$, $u$, $v$, $w$, $r_1$, $r_2$, $r_3$, $s_1$, $s_2$, $s_3$.
\section{Beta function and discussion}
In general in the dimensional regularization scheme similar relations exist also in other schemes) the renormalization constants satisfy the Slanov Taylor identities:
\begin{eqnarray}
g_0^2=\frac{Z_{3g}^2}{Z_3^3}g^2\mu^{\epsilon}=\frac{Z_{4g}}{Z_3^2}g^2\mu^{\epsilon}=
\frac{Z_1^{\prime 2}}{Z_1^2Z_3}g^2\mu^{\epsilon}=\frac{Z_2^{\prime 2}}{Z_2^2Z_3}g^2\mu^{\epsilon},
\label{sl7768}
\end{eqnarray}
where $d=4-\epsilon$ and $\mu$ is a parameter with dimension of mass.
In the background gauge field method there is a great simplification given by the relations:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&Z_1=Z_1'
\nonumber\\
&&Z_2=Z_2'
\nonumber\\
&&Z_3=Z_{3g}=Z_{4g}.
\label{bck6657}
\end{eqnarray}
Then one can write the four relations in Eq. (\ref{finalreljki7}) in a more compact form:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&1=(f_1+f_2g^2+f_3g^4)Z_3+f_4Z_1g^2+f_5Z_2g^2
\nonumber\\
&&1=(t_1+t_2g^2)Z_2
\nonumber\\
&&1=(c_1+c_2g^2)Z_1
\nonumber\\
&&1=(h_1+h_2g^2)Z_3+Z_1(h_3+h_4g^2)+h_5Z_2
\label{finalrel665466}
\end{eqnarray}
From the last three equations in Eq. (\ref{finalrel665466}) we determine:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_3=\frac{(c_1t_1-h_3t_1-h_5c_1)+(c_2t_1+c_1t_2-h_3t_2-h_4t_1-h_5c_2)g^2+(c_2t_2-h_4t_2)g^4}{(h_1+h_2g^2)(c_1+c_2g^2)(t_1+t_2g^2)}.
\label{zres4434}
\end{eqnarray}
From the first three equations in Eq. (\ref{finalrel665466}) we compute:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_3=\frac{c_1t_1+(c_2t_1+c_1t_2-f_4t_1-f_5c_1)g^2+(c_2t_2-f_4t_2-f_5c_2)g^4}{(f_1+f_2g^2+f_3g^4)(c_1+c_2g^2)(t_1+t_2g^2)}.
\label{seconds4356}
\end{eqnarray}
We shall use this last equation as a constraint. Matching the order of the coefficients with those in Eq. (\ref{zres4434}) we obtain the condition:
\begin{eqnarray}
(c_2t_2-h_4t_2)f_3=0
\label{constr5546}
\end{eqnarray}
from which we deduce $c_2=h_4$ since none of the coefficients are allowed to be zero.
There are some coefficients in Eq. (\ref{finalrel665466}) that can be determined directly form the preceding defining equations. These are those associated with the terms involving the gluon, fermion or ghost two point functions. Thus from Eq. (\ref{sec435532}) and the subsequent versions of it (noting that $h_1$, $h_3$ and $h_5$ are associated with the two point function for gluon, ghost and fermion respectively) one can compute by simple gaussian integration:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&h_1=\frac{-4(N^2-1)}{N N_f-2(N^2-1)}
\nonumber\\
&&h_3=\frac{2(N^2-1)}{N N_f-2(N^2-1)}
\nonumber\\
&&h_5=\frac{N_f N}{N N_f-2(N^2-1)}.
\label{first546}
\end{eqnarray}
Furthermore Eq. (\ref{first546}) leads to the following useful recurrence relation:
\begin{eqnarray}
1-h_3-h_5=h_1.
\label{rec4355}
\end{eqnarray}
Similarly from Eqs. (\ref{fermrel8767}) and (\ref{ghost6778}) one can determine $c_1=t_1=1$ for the same reasons. By substituting in Eq.(\ref{zres4434}) the correct values for $h_1$, $h_3$, $h_5$, $c_1$, $t_1$ the expression for $Z_3$ becomes:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_3=\frac{1+u_1g^2}{1+v_1g^2+v_2g^4+v_3g^6},
\label{finares4355}
\end{eqnarray}
where,
\begin{eqnarray}
&&u_1=\frac{t_2}{h_1}-\frac{h_3t_2}{h_1}-\frac{h_5c_2}{h_1}
\nonumber\\
&&v_1=c_2+t_2+\frac{h_2}{h_1}
\nonumber\\
&&v_2=\frac{h_2t_2}{h_1}+c_2t_2+\frac{h_2c_2}{h_1}
\nonumber\\
&&v_3=\frac{h_2c_2t_2}{h_1}.
\label{rel65788}
\end{eqnarray}
In general in the dimensional regularization scheme the renormalization constant $Z_3$ can be written as:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_3=1+\sum_{n=1}^{\infty}\frac{Z_3^{(n)}}{\epsilon^n}.
\label{expr657847566}
\end{eqnarray}
Note that similar expression exist for any renormalization scheme by making simple substitutions for $\epsilon$.
The beta function is defined as:
\begin{eqnarray}
\beta(g^2)=\mu^2\frac{ d g^2}{d \mu^2}=-\frac{1}{2}g^3\frac{\partial Z_3^{(1)}}{\partial g}=-g^4\frac{\partial Z_3^{(1)}}{\partial g^2}.
\label{def4456}
\end{eqnarray}
We identify Eq. (\ref{finares4355}) with Eq. (\ref{expr657847566}) noting that the degree of divergence (given by powers in $\frac{1}{\epsilon}$) of the coefficients $u_1$, $v_1$, $v_2$, $v_3$ is zero, one or greater than one:
\begin{eqnarray}
[1+\frac{Z_3^{(1)}}{\epsilon}+\frac{Z_3^{(2)}}{\epsilon^2}+...][1+v_1^{(0)}g^2+\frac{v_1^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^2+v_2^{(0)}g^4+\frac{v_2^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^4+
v_3^{(0)}g^6+\frac{v_3^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^6+...]=u_1^{(0)}g^2+\frac{u_1^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^2+...
\label{firs5546}
\end{eqnarray}
To order $\frac{1}{\epsilon}$ this leads to:
\begin{eqnarray}
\frac{Z_3^{(1)}}{\epsilon}[1+v_1^{(0)}g^2]+\frac{v_1^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^2+\frac{v_2^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^4+\frac{v_3^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^6=\frac{u_1^{(1)}}{\epsilon}g^2
\label{second6656}
\end{eqnarray}
Here,
\begin{eqnarray}
&&v_1^{(0)}=c_2^{(0)}+t_2^{(0)}+\frac{h_2^{(0)}}{h_1}
\nonumber\\
&&v_3^{(1)}=\frac{(h_2c_2t_2)^{(0)}}{h_1}.
\label{rez43553}
\end{eqnarray}
Using Eq. (\ref{finalrel665466}) and the constraint $c_2=h_4$ by considering simple expansion in powers of $\frac{1}{\epsilon}$ one obtains that $c_2^{(0)}=t_2^{(0)}=h_2^{(0)}=0$. Eq. (\ref{rez43553}) leads also to $v_3^{(1)}=0$. Then from Eq. (\ref{second6656}) the dependence of $Z_3^{(1)}$ on the coupling constant emerges:
\begin{eqnarray}
Z_3^{(1)}=\beta_0g^2+\beta_1g^4,
\label{dep7768}
\end{eqnarray}
where $\beta_0$ and $\beta_1$ are coefficients independent of $g^2$.
We thus determined the all order shape of the beta function of QCD only by using global properties of the partition function and of the various two, three or four point correlators.
According to Eq. (\ref{def4456}) the beta function contains only the first two order renormalization scheme independent coefficients and is given by:
\begin{eqnarray}
&&\beta(g^2)=\frac{d g^2}{d\ln\mu^2}=
-[\frac{11}{3}N-\frac{2}{3}N_f]\frac{g^4}{16\pi^2}-[\frac{34}{3}N^2-2\frac{N^2-1}{2N}N_f-\frac{10}{3}N N_f]\frac{g^6}{256\pi^4}.
\label{beta435}
\end{eqnarray}
\section*{Acknowledgments} \vskip -.5cm
The work of R. J. was supported by a grant of the Ministry of National Education, CNCS-UEFISCDI, project number PN-II-ID-PCE-2012-4-0078.
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 8,360 |
LOUISVILLE — The Presbyterian Mission Agency (PMA) and the Office of the General Assembly (OGA) exceeded their $100,000 goal on #GivingTuesday, receiving $105,673 during the event held last week.
Presbyterian congregations also received gifts for local ministries on #GivingTuesday, and many used resources provided by the Presbyterian Foundation to support their #GivingTuesday efforts. The Foundation, which partnered with OGA and PMA in promoting #GivingTuesday, received $21,481 for congregations and other Presbyterian ministries. These gifts far outpaced the $9,659 given through the Foundation last year on #GivingTuesday, and they are in addition to those received by PMA and OGA. | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
} | 9,351 |
Renate Wiener Chasman, geborene Wiener, (* 10. Januar 1932 in Berlin; † 17. Oktober 1977) war eine deutsch-US-amerikanische Physikerin, die sich mit der Physik von Teilchenbeschleunigern beschäftigte.
Chasman war die Tochter von Hans Wiener, einem Anwalt und Gründungsmitglied der Sozialdemokraten. Die Familie, die jüdisch war, floh 1938 nach Schweden, wo Chasman nahe Stockholm die Schule besuchte. Nach dem Abitur 1950 ging sie nach Israel, um Physik an der Hebräischen Universität in Jerusalem zu studieren. 1955 machte sie dort ihren Masterabschluss und 1959 wurde sie in Experimentalphysik promoviert mit Arbeiten über Paritätsverletzung im Betazerfall (dort sind Wiener-Koeffizienten nach ihr benannt). Aufgrund dieser Arbeiten wurde sie von Chien-Shiung Wu (die die Paritätsverletzung beim Betazerfall experimentell entdeckte) an die Columbia University eingeladen, wo Chasman von 1959 bis 1962 im Labor von Wu forschte. Danach war sie an der Yale University und ab 1963 am Brookhaven National Laboratory, wo sie den Rest ihrer Karriere blieb. Am Brookhaven Laboratory leistete sie wichtige Beiträge zur Entwicklung mehrerer Generationen von Teilchenbeschleunigern. In den 1960er Jahren baute sie den Injektor für das Alternating Gradient Protonen-Synchrotron (AGS) um und man erreichte somit mit dem Beschleuniger höhere Energien. Unter anderem ist sie mit Kenneth Green für die Chasman-Green Anordnung (Chasman Green Lattice oder Double bend achromatic lattice, DBA lattice) von Magneten zur Fokussierung und Ablenkung von Elektronenstrahlen in Synchrotron-Strahlungsquellen bekannt (1975). Sie wurde bei der National Synchrotron Light Source am Brookhaven Labor und danach an den meisten Synchrotronstrahlungsquellen mit Elektronenbeschleunigern benutzt.
Sie war auch Beraterin und Gastwissenschaftlerin am CERN und am Fermilab. Sie starb an den Folgen einer Hautkrebs-Erkrankung (Melanom).
Seit 1962 war sie mit Chellis Chasman verheiratet.
Literatur
Andrew Sessler, Edmund Wilson Engines of creation, World Scientific 2007
John Blewett, Nachruf in Physics Today, Band 31, 1978, Heft 2, S. 64
Eintrag in Elizabeth H. Oakes, Encyclopedia of World Scientists, Facts on File 2007, S. 134f
Weblinks
Foto 1978, Segré Archives
Einzelnachweise
Physiker (20. Jahrhundert)
Teilchenbeschleuniger-Physiker
US-Amerikaner
Geboren 1932
Gestorben 1977
Frau
Person (CERN) | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 9,813 |
The distance to a stellar youngster
Astronomers pinpoint the parallax of T Tauri.
By Ken Croswell | Published: Friday, January 07, 2005
For the first time, astronomers in Mexico and the United States have determined the precise distance to the young star T Tauri. The newly measured parallax places the star about 460 light-years from Earth, in line with previous but less direct estimates.
T Tauri is the prototype of the class of pre-main-sequence objects that bears its name. T Tauri is actually a binary star (separation 0.6"), but its companion is unresolved in this image. The nebula to the west (NGC 1555) glows by reflected light from T Tauri.
2MASS/IPAC
T Tauri is the prototype for a class of newborn stars. Unlike the Sun and other main sequence stars, which generate light by converting hydrogen into helium at their cores, T Tauri stars shine by tapping the force of gravity. As gravity squeezes the stars, they heat up and glow. In the same way, gravity causes water to fall over a dam and generate electricity. Someday, the stars will initiate nuclear fusion and become main sequence stars like the Sun.
Laurent Loinard of the National Autonomous University of Mexico in Morelia and his colleagues used the Very Long Baseline Array to observe T Tauri's radio waves. T Tauri consists of at least three stars, one that shines in visible light and two that glow at infrared wavelengths. The radio waves come from one of the infrared stars.
Loinard's team observed the star from September 2003 to September 2004. During that year, as Earth orbited the Sun, the astronomers viewed the star from slightly different perspectives. This caused the star's apparent position to shift. The larger the shift, or parallax, the closer the star is to Earth.
As Loinard's team will report in an upcoming issue of Astrophysical Journal Letters, T Tauri is 462 ± 9 light-years from Earth. This result is far more precise than any previous parallax for the star. For example, the distance the Hipparcos satellite determined for T Tauri had an uncertainty of more than 100 light-years. And the star's negative parallax in the 1995 edition of The General Catalogue of Trigonometric Stellar Parallaxes is useless.
Taurus and neighboring Auriga abound with young stars, but T Tauri is only the second T Tauri star in Taurus with a precisely measured parallax. The first, named V773 Tauri, has a distance of 484 ± 18 light-years. The similarity between the two stars' distances suggests all the T Tauri stars in Taurus reside about equally far from Earth. In contrast, the much cruder Hipparcos parallaxes hinted the two stars might be separated by more than 200 light-years.
"It's a nice confirmation of the distance to the Taurus complex," says Steven Stahler, a star-formation expert at the University of California at Berkeley. "The distance to that particular star is not so earthshaking as the distance to the group, which is more interesting, because that leads to accurate luminosities of the stars." Knowing the stars' distance, astronomers can convert their apparent brightnesses into luminosities - how much light the stars emit into space. The luminosities and temperatures of T Tauri stars reveal their ages, so knowing the distance helps astronomers discern how star formation proceeded across Taurus.
T Tauri itself is a 10th-magnitude star about 4° northwest of Aldebaran, the brightest star in Taurus. The young star illuminates a small nebula to its west, which may be leftover material from its birth. Both the star and nebula vary in brightness. Indeed, it was the star's variability that caught the eye of its discoverer, English astronomer John Russell Hind, in 1852.
T Tauri is only about a million years old. If the Sun were a 40-year-old man, T Tauri would be a 3-day-old infant. Shortly after its birth, the Sun was a T Tauri star itself, showering Earth with light produced by gravitational power.
Ken Croswell is an astronomer living in Berkeley, California, and author of Magnificent Mars (Free Press, 2003) and Magnificent Universe (Simon & Schuster, 1999).
The Milky Way's first light
A new star in the neighborhood
November 2004 astro bytes
Our Galaxy's oldest open clusters | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaCommonCrawl"
} | 5,026 |
Q: Error while creating sales order using JCO with BAPI_SALESORDER_CREATEFROMDAT2 I am trying to create a sales order using BAPI_SALESORDER_CREATEFROMDAT2 butI am getting error "No customer master record exists for customer 99" when I tried to create a sales order for customer 99(example) with the partner Role 'AG','WE' where both 'sold-to-party and ship-to-party' are mandatory fields.
If I send "SP" it will ask me to define 'sold-to-party and ship-to-party' ,Please let me know if I have to send some different partner roles to be able to create a sales order.
public static void createSalesOrder() {
try {
JCoDestination destination = JCoDestinationManager.getDestination("ABAP_AS_WITH_POOL");
JCoFunction functionCreateOrder = destination.getRepository().getFunction("BAPI_SALESORDER_CREATEFROMDAT2");
JCoFunction functionTransComit = destination.getRepository().getFunction("BAPI_TRANSACTION_COMMIT");
JCoStructure orderHeaderIn = functionCreateOrder.getImportParameterList().getStructure("ORDER_HEADER_IN");
orderHeaderIn.setValue("SALES_ORG", "2000");
orderHeaderIn.setValue("DISTR_CHAN", "20");
orderHeaderIn.setValue("DIVISION", "20");
orderHeaderIn.setValue("DOC_TYPE", "ZAR");
JCoTable orderPartners = functionCreateOrder.getTableParameterList().getTable("ORDER_PARTNERS");
// WE,AG,SP,PH
// AG Sold to Party
// WE Ship to Party
orderPartners.appendRows(1);
orderPartners.setValue("PARTN_ROLE", "AG");
orderPartners.setValue("PARTN_NUMB", "99");
orderPartners.appendRows(1);
orderPartners.setValue("PARTN_ROLE", "WE");
orderPartners.setValue("PARTN_NUMB", "99");
System.out.println(orderPartners);
JCoTable orderItemsIn = functionCreateOrder.getTableParameterList().getTable("ORDER_ITEMS_IN");
orderItemsIn.appendRow();
orderItemsIn.setValue("MATERIAL", "PEN_ARN");
System.out.println(orderItemsIn);
JCoTable orderSchedulesIn = functionCreateOrder.getTableParameterList().getTable("ORDER_SCHEDULES_IN");
orderSchedulesIn.appendRow();
orderSchedulesIn.setValue("REQ_QTY", "1");
System.out.println(orderSchedulesIn);
functionCreateOrder.execute(destination);
functionTransComit.execute(destination);
// System.out.println(functionCreateOrder);
JCoTable returnTable = functionCreateOrder.getTableParameterList().getTable("RETURN");
System.out.println(returnTable.getString("MESSAGE"));
System.out.println("sales order number is : "
+ functionCreateOrder.getExportParameterList().getValue("SALESDOCUMENT"));
} catch (JCoException ex) {
System.out.println(ex.getMessage());
} finally {
System.out.println("Creating sales order ends");
}
}
A: Issue was with the partner number , adding 000000000 leading the partner number will solve the issue .
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
} | 3,859 |
\section{Introduction and Motivation}
Approximately 30-40\% of compute cycles on US XSEDE~\cite{xsede30,xdmod_paper}
is devoted to research on biomolecular systems using Molecular Dynamics (MD)
simulations. Much of the computational cost comes from the need for an adequate
sampling of the conformational space accessible to these complex and flexible
systems in order to answer a particular research question. For example, to
calculate free energies one needs an adequate sample from the Boltzmann weighted
ensemble of states for the system in order to estimate the thermodynamic
quantity of interest. Another example is the study of kinetic processes such as
self-assembly or drug-target association, where the integration of data from
large numbers of trajectories is required to build a statistically meaningful
model of the dynamical process.
The high dimensionality of these macromolecular systems and the complexity of
the associated potential energy surfaces (creating multiple metastable regions
connected by high free energy barriers) pose significant challenges to
adequately sample the relevant regions of the configurational space. In other
words, beside the ``curse of dimensionality'' associated with the large number
of degrees of freedom, MD trajectories can easily get ``trapped'' in a low free
energy state and fail to explore other biologically relevant states. The
waiting time to escape from a local free energy minimum increases exponentially
with the height of the free energy barrier that needs to be crossed to reach
another state. Metastable states separated by free energy barriers of several
tens of $k_B T$ (where $k_B$ is the Boltzmann constant and $T$ is the
physiological temperature) are not uncommon in biologically relevant systems,
but can not at present be routinely sampled with standard MD simulations.
In practice, better sampling of the relevant regions of a macromolecule
configurational space can be achieved through methodologies able to bias the
sampling towards scarcely visited regions, reducing the waiting time inside a
metastable state by artificially flattening the energy barriers between states
- e.g. Metadynamics \cite{Barducci2011} or Accelerated Dynamics
\cite{Pierce2012}. Although the results can be usually reweighed to reproduce
the correct Boltzmann statistics, kinetics properties are not easily recovered
from biased simulations (unless used in combinations with unbiased simulations,
see e.g.~\cite{Hu2016}). In addition, the design of an effective bias usually
requires some \textit{a priori} information on the system of interest, for
instance on a suitable choice of collective variables to describe slow
timescale processes.
An alternative approach to tackle the sampling problem is the development of
ensemble or swarm simulation strategies, where data from large numbers of
simulations, which may be weakly coupled or not coupled at all, are integrated
(e.g. Replica Exchange \cite{Sugita1999} and Markov State Models (MSMs)\cite{Noe2014}).
This last class of methods is of increasing interest for a variety of reasons.
Firstly, the hardware roadmap is now based almost entirely on increasing core
counts, rather than clock speeds. On the face of it, these developments favour
weak scaling problems (larger and larger molecular systems to be simulated)
over strong scaling problems (getting more data faster on a system of fixed
size). However, by running ensembles of simulations over these cores and
integrating the data using, e.g. MSM approaches, timescales far
in excess of those sampled by any individual simulation are effectively accessed.
In the last few years several studies have been published
\cite{Noe2009,Voelz2010,Buch2011,Huang2014,Plattner2015} where, using MSM
methods, processes such as protein folding or ligand binding have been
completely and quantitatively characterized (thermodynamically and kinetically)
from simulations orders of magnitude shorter than the process of interest.
It is becoming increasingly clear that the application of ensemble simulation
strategies on state-of-the-art computational facilities has an unparalleled
potential to permit accurate simulations of the largest, most challenging, and
generally most biologically relevant, biomolecular systems. The main challenge
in the development of the ensemble approach for faster sampling of complex
macromolecular systems is on the design of strategies to adaptively distribute
the trajectories over the relevant regions of the system's configurational
space, without using any \textit{a priori} information on the system global
properties. The definition of smart ``adaptive sampling'' approaches that can
redirect computational resources towards unexplored yet relevant regions is
currently of great interest.
In light of the challenge posed by trends in computer architecture, the need to
improve sampling, and the range of existing MD codes and analysis tools, we have
designed and implemented the Extensible Toolkit for Advanced Sampling and
analYsis (ExTASY). ExTASY provides three key features within a single framework
to enable the development and applications requiring advanced sampling in a
flexible and highly scalable environment. Firstly, as an extensible toolkit,
ExTASY allows a wide range of existing software to be integrated, leveraging the
significant community investment in highly optimised and well-tested software
packages and enabling users to continue to work with tools that they are
familiar with. Support for specific MD codes and analysis tools is provided in
order to demonstrate how ExTASY may be used, but users can easily add other
tools as needed.
Secondly, ExTASY is flexible, providing a programmable interface to link
individual software components together and construct sampling workflows.
Workflows capture a sequence of execution of individual tools, and the data
transfers and dependencies between them. First class support is provided for
defining large ensembles of independent simulations. Thus complex calculations
may be scripted and then executed without the need for user intervention.
Thirdly, ExTASY workflows may be executed either locally, or on remote High
Performance Computing systems. Complexities such as the batch queueing system
and data transfer are abstracted, making it easy for users to make use of the
most appropriate compute resources they have access to. In addition, this
abstraction allows workflows to be executed without exposing each component to
queue waiting time, and respecting the dependencies defined in the workflow, for
many simulations to be scheduled and executed in parallel.
The rest of the paper is organized as follows: In the next section we discuss
the design and implementation of ExTASY. After a brief discussion in Section
III of two distinct applications that have been used to design and validate
ExTASY, Section IV provides a careful analysis of the performance and
scalability of ExTASY. Given the complex interplay between functionality and
performance when designing an extensible and production tool, we perform a wide
range of experiments aimed to investigate strong and weak scaling properties,
inter alia over a set of heterogeneous HPC platforms. We conclude with a
discussion of the scientific impact as well as the lessons for sustainable
software development.
\section{Related Work}
The need for better sampling has driven developments in methodology (algorithm),
hardware, and software for (bio)molecular simulation.
One of the features of the popular Metadynamics method \cite{Barducci2011} or
Accelerated Dynamics \cite{Pierce2012} is that a constant analysis of what has
been sampled so far is used to bias future sampling into unexplored regions. A
range of alternative approaches are now emerging that do likewise, but where
alternating segments of data-gathering, and analysis to inform the direction of
future sampling, are more coarsely grained. This iterative approach has the
advantage over the metadynamics method that the identity of ``interesting''
directions for enhanced sampling does not need to be defined \textit{a priori},
but can emerge and respond flexibly to the developing ensemble. Another
advantage is that the MD-based sampling process and analysis method
do not have to be implemented within the same executable, or in two
tightly-coupled executables, permitting greater flexibility. Many such methods
make use of collective variables (CVs) to define directions in which to promote
sampling. A variety of novel, and established, algorithms for the unsupervised
and adaptive construction of CVs exist. In addition to the work of Preto and
Clementi \cite{Preto2014}, interleaving cycles of MD simulation with data
analysis through Locally Scaled Diffusion Maps \cite{Rohrdanz2011}, related
methods include the non-targeted PaCS-MD method of Harada and Kitao
\cite{Guo2009}, variants thereof \cite{Harada2015}, and the PCA-based method of
Peng and Zhang \cite{Peng2014}.
Better sampling can also come from faster sampling, which has been enabled through
hardware developments such as ANTON \cite{Shaw:2008} and MD-GRAPE
\cite{Ohmura2013}. These special purpose computers enable much faster
calculations of the different contributions to the forces along the
trajectories, thus speeding up the clock time required to perform a time
integration step in the MD simulation and allowing execution of significantly
longer MD trajectories. The cost of, and access to such special purpose
computers ensure that in spite of their potential, they will not be as
accessible for the wider scientific community as general purpose approaches.
Further ANTON requires a customized ecosystem, from bespoke MD engines and ANTON
specific data analysis middleware (e.g., HiMach). Thus ANTON style
special-purpose approaches to bio-molecular simulation science cannot take
advantage of the rich community driven advances and eco-system.
Methods such as Replica Exchange and Metadynamics require a tight coupling
between the simulation and analysis processes, and are thus typically
implemented as additional facilities within the core MD code (e.g. replica
exchange methods are implemented in AMBER~\cite{AMBER2013},
CHARMM~\cite{CHARMM1983}, GROMACS~\cite{GROMACS2015}, LAMMPS~\cite{LAMMPS1995},
and NAMD~\cite{NAMD2005}, for example), or are provided by a separate package
that communicates in a fine-grained manner with the running MD executable,
generally though specially-installed ``hooks''; an example of this approach is
the PLUMED package~\cite{PLUMED} which provides metadynamics capabilities
(amongst others) to AMBER, GROMACS, LAMMPS, NAMD and also Quantum
ESPRESSO~\cite{QE2009}. In contrast, there is, to our knowledge, so far no
established and generally available package to support the types of
coarser-grained, adaptive workflows described above.
\section{ExTASY: Requirements, Design and Implementation}\label{sec:soft_arch}
In this section we first present the requirements that have been considered in
the design and implementation of ExTASY, which we then go on to discuss.
\subsection{Requirements}
Consistent with the design of many new software systems and tools, we analyze
the functionality, performance and usability requirements of ExTASY.
\subsubsection{Functionality}
Specific to sampling, there is a need to couple two very distinct computational
stages; each stage can be short-lived when compared to the typical duration of
monolithic simulation. Furthermore, the two stages differ in their resource
requirements significantly: one stage is characterized by multiple compute
intensive MD simulations, the other by a single analysis program that operates
on data aggregated from multiple simulations. The ``Ex'' in ExTASY is a
reference to the extensible nature of the framework, and thus any coupling must
be between the abstraction of stages and not specific codes for fixed time
duration.
Scientists may have access to multiple systems, and wish to submit jobs on each,
or may be forced to migrate from using one system to another due to CPU time
allocation, or system end-of-life. It is imperative that any software system
support \textbf{interoperability}, i.e. use of heterogeneous systems with
minimal changes. MD simulations may be executed over multiple nodes, depending
on the system size, thus any software system should also support the
\textbf{ability to execute tasks} over multiple nodes.
\subsubsection{Performance}
In order to obtain good sampling, a large number of simulations must be
executed. In many cases, the aggregate number of cores required by the set of
simulations (``ensemble'') is much higher than the total number of cores that
are available at a given instance or that can be allocated on a system. The
framework must decouple the aggregate (or peak) resource requirement of the
workload from the number of cores available or utilized. On the other hand, if
access to a large number of cores is available, the framework should be able to
use them effectively. In this regard, the \textbf{strong and weak scalability}
of the framework is to be investigated.
\subsubsection{Usability}
Depending on the application, the user might need to change to using a
larger/smaller set of input data, modify simulation parameters or replace any of
the simulation or analysis tools. The framework should offer \textbf{easy
application setup}, minimizing the user's time and effort in the process. The
user should only be concerned with decisions on ``what" the workflow is and
``where" it is being executed. The details as to ``how" the deployment and
execution occurs should be hidden by the underlying software. Thus the framework
should use tools that \textbf{abstract complexities} of deployment and execution
from the user. Workflow users and developers should be able to concentrate
their efforts on the application logic and expect the underlying software to
provide a level of transparent and automation of aspects such as data movement
and job submission.
\subsection{Design}
From these requirements, we identify the following as the primary design
objectives of ExTASY\xspace.
\begin{enumerate}
\item Support range of HPC systems, abstract task execution, data
movement from the user.
\item Flexible resource management and coupling capabilities between different
stages as well as within a stage.
\item Provide the users with an easy method to specify or change workload
parameters without delving into the application itself.
\end{enumerate}
These design objectives put together lead to the following simple software architecture:
\subsubsection{Middleware for resource and execution management} The ExTASY\xspace
framework is aimed to provide an easy method to run advanced sampling algorithms
on HPC systems. In this process, the ExTASY\xspace framework should abstract users from
the complexity of application composition, workload execution and resource
management. There is need for a middleware that provides such resource and
execution management that provides many of the required functionalities and
performance. The details of how tasks are mapped or executed on to resources is
abstracted from the ExTASY\xspace user. The user is only required to provide details of
the workload and identify the resource(s) that are accessible. This design
choice thus acknowledges the separation of concerns: workload description from
its execution on HPC systems.
\subsubsection{Configuration files} Composing the advanced sampling algorithms
discussed in the previous sections using the components provided by a particular
middleware stack, requires specific knowledge of the middleware itself. The ExTASY\xspace
framework bypasses this complexity by adding one more level of abstraction. It
provides ready-to-use scripts in accordance with advanced sampling methods
discussed in this paper that are configurable via configuration files. In these
configuration files, the user is exposed to only application-level, meaningful
parameters that can be modified as necessary.
\begin{figure}
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.45\textwidth]{./extasy_design.png}
\caption{Design of the ExTASY\xspace framework using Ensemble Toolkit\xspace as middleware. The ExTASY\xspace
framework provides ready-to-use scripts created using components provided by
Ensemble Toolkit\xspace. Parameters related to the resource and workload are exposed via
configuration files, which alone are the files that users interact
with. Within Ensemble Toolkit\xspace, the workload is converted into executable units by the
execution plugins and submitted to the resource using RADICAL-Pilot\xspace. }
\label{fig:ext_design}
\end{figure}
\subsection{Implementation}
\subsubsection{Ensemble Toolkit}
As mentioned previously, ExTASY requires a middleware for resource and execution
management. We chose to use Ensemble Toolkit\xspace~\cite{entk} as the middleware component as it
provides several relevant features such as the ability to support MPI tasks,
dynamic resource management -- one type of which is to be able to execute more
tasks than the resources available, support for heterogeneous HPC systems and
strong and weak scalability guarantees. Ensemble Toolkit\xspace has been tested upto O(1,000)
tasks with short and long term plans to support O(10,000) and O(100,000)
tasks~\cite{entk}. Ensemble Toolkit\xspace is in turn based upon the pilot abstraction (and the
RADICAL-Pilot\xspace~\cite{review_radicalpilot} implementation of the pilot abstraction) to provide much of the
flexible and scalable resource management capabilities.
Ensemble Toolkit\xspace exposes three components to the user that can be used to express many
applications: Kernel Plugins, Execution Patterns, and Resource Handle. Scripts
that are part of ExTASY\xspace framework use these components to describe the application
logic.
\subsubsection{Configuration files} The application logic is expressed via
components of Ensemble Toolkit\xspace. The resource and the workload specifications are exposed
via configuration files. The ExTASY\xspace framework has two types of configuration
files: (i) resource configuration, which consist of details of the resource
where the application will to be executed such as the resource name, the
runtime, and the username and account details used to access the resource, and
(ii) kernel configuration, which defines the workload parameters such as the
location of input files for the Molecular Dynamcis simulation and analysis
tools, parameters for the tools, and workflow parameters such as the number of
simulations.
\section{Applications}
We illustrate the capabilities of the ExTASY approach via two exemplar applications.
The two different advanced sampling algorithms implemented with
ExTASY are the Diffusion Map-directed-MD (DM-d-MD) and CoCo-MD techniques. Both these algorithms have a common execution pattern: an ensemble of simulation tasks followed by an analysis stage, performed for multiple iterations following the pattern shown in Figure~\ref{fig:sal}.
\begin{figure}
\centering
\includegraphics[scale=0.38]{./sa.png}
\caption{The SAL pattern common to both sampling algorithms. The crux of the pattern is an iteration over 2 stages: simulation and analysis, where the number of simulation and analysis instances can be different. The pattern may also contain pre- and post- processing stages.}
\label{fig:sal}
\end{figure}
In the case of the DM-d-MD algorithm, the simulation stage consists of Gromacs and LSDMap in the analysis stage. Whereas, in the CoCo algorithm, the simulation stage consists Gromacs runs and trajectory conversions and analysis consists of CoCo. The individual simulation or analysis tools might differ depending on the algorithm chosen but the overall pattern is observed to be the same.
\subsection{Diffusion Map-directed-MD}
The Diffusion Map-directed-MD (DM-d-MD) technique \cite{Preto2014} improves
the efficiency of computational resources by choosing which replicas of the
protein are used to run MD. When replicas are too close to each other, the MD
trajectories will be similar. The information gain from simulating MD with
close replicas is small. Part of the replicas which are too close to each other
are deleted. To hold the total number of replicas constant, replicas which are
too far apart from each other are duplicated. In DM-d-MD, a non-linear
dimensionality reduction technique, the locally scaled diffusion map (LSDMap) \cite{Rohrdanz2011} is used to calculate the distance between different
replicas. The deletion or duplication of replicas would destroy the correct
sampling of the protein. By changing the weights of individual replicas in the
reweighting step, the correct sampling of the protein is obtained.
The DM-d-MD technique requires only the protein starting structure. No
additional information about the protein is necessary. The user can fine tune
the sampling mainly by varying the total number of replicas and the way how the
local scale in LSDMap is calculated. At the begin on the method, the replicas
are generated from the protein starting structure. After the MD step, the
LSDMap is calculated. LSDMap requires only the final structure for each replica
from the MD step. Based on the LSDMap results new replicas for the next
iteration of DM-d-MD are chosen from the current replicas. The reweighting
ensures that the
It was shown that DM-d-MD technique is, at least, one order of magnitude faster
compared to plain MD \cite{Preto2014}. This comparison was done for alanine
dipeptide and a 12-aminoacid model system, Ala12.
\subsection{The CoCo-MD workflow}
The CoCo (\textbf{Co}mplementary \textbf{Co}ordinates) technique~\cite{bib5:CoCo}
was designed originally as a method to enhance the diversity of ensembles of
molecular structures of the type produced by NMR structure determination. The
method involves the use of PCA \cite{jollife:PCA,bib3:Sherer,bib4:Wlodek} in
Cartesian space to map the distribution of the ensemble in a low (typically 2-4
dimensional) space, and then the identification of un-sampled regions. CoCo
generates new conformations for the molecule that would correspond to these
un-sampled regions. The number of new structures generated is under the user's
control – the algorithm divides the space into bins at a chosen resolution,
marks bins as sampled or not, first returns a structure corresponding to the
centre of the un-sampled bin furthest from any sampled one, marks this bin as
now sampled, and iterates as many times as desired.
In the CoCo-MD workflow, an ensemble of structures from MD simulations are
analysed using the CoCo method; new conformations become the start points for a
new round of MD simulations. The latest MD data is added to the previous set,
and CoCo repeated. The method is agglomerative -– all MD data generated so far
is used for each analysis; but also adaptive –- a fresh PCA is performed each
time. Applied to simulations of the alanine pentapeptide, the CoCo-MD workflow
is able to reduce mean first passage times from the extended state to other
local minimum states by factors of ten or greater compared to conventional
simulations \cite{coco-unpublished}.
\section{Performance Evaluation}\label{sec: perf_eval}
\subsection{Experiment setup}
\subsubsection{Physical system}
The 39-residue mixed $\alpha$/$\beta$ protein NTL9(1-39) (pdb code 2HBA, 14,100
atoms including water) is chosen as the physical system for our experiments.
NTL9 has an experimentally measured folding time of around 1.5 ms
\cite{Horng20031261}, and its folding process has been extensively studied by
experiment and all-atom MD simulations, both by means of the Folding@Home
distributed computing platform coupled with MSM analysis \cite{Voelz2010}, and
by Anton supercomputer \cite{Lindorff-Larsen2011}.
The relatively small size of NTL9, and the existence of previous MD simulation
results over long timescales, make this protein an ideal candidate for testing
and benchmarking our approach. Albeit small, NTL9 is much larger than a simple
peptide, and exhibits a folding process with two competing routes
\cite{Lindorff-Larsen2011}, thus presenting a non-trivial test for adaptive
sampling.
\subsubsection{HPC systems used}
One of the requirements of ExTASY as that it should be interoperable, so we
have used several different HPC systems for our experiments, and characterised
the performance of ExTASY on each.
{\bf Stampede} is a Dell Linux cluster located at the Texas Advanced Computing Center,
and is part of the Extreme Science and Engineering Discovery Environment
(XSEDE). It consists of 6400 compute nodes, each with 2 Intel Xeon `Sandy
Bridge' processors, for a total of 16 CPU cores per node, as well as an Intel
Xeon Phi co-processor (not used in our experiments). Stampede uses the SLURM
batch scheduler for job submission.
{\bf ARCHER} is a Cray XC30 supercomputer hosted by EPCC, and operated on behalf of
the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council (EPSRC) and the Natural
Enviroment Research Council (NERC). It has 4920 compute nodes, each with 2
Intel Xeon `Ivy Bridge' processors, giving 24 cores per node. ARCHER uses the
Portable Batch System (PBS) for job submission.
{\bf Blue Waters} is a Cray XE6/XK7 operated by the National Centre for Supercomputing
Applications on behalf of the National Science Foundation and the University of
Illinois. The XE6 partition used in this work consists of 22640 compute nodes
with 2 AMD `Interlagos' processors, giving 32 cores per node. Blue Waters uses
the TORQUE/Moab workload manager for job submission.
\subsection{Evaluation of individual components}
Since the performance of the entire workflow depends on the performance of each of the component parts, we investigate the scaling of both the simulation code (Gromacs) and the analysis tools in isolation on each of the three target platforms, using the NTL9 system used for the full sampling workflows.
\subsubsection{Simulation tools}
The parallel efficiency of Gromacs with respect to a single core on each machine is shown in Figure
\ref{fig:gmx-eff}.
While efficincies of 69\% (ARCHER, 24 cores), 78\%
(Stampede, 16 cores) and 46\% (Blue Waters, 32 cores) suggest that while the
scaling for such a relatively small simulation is not ideal, using a single node
per simulation is a good use of the available hardware. Beyond a single node,
the efficiency drops off so although multiple node simulation tasks are
supported by Ensemble Toolkit they are not useful for this benchmark case.
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_gromacs_efficiency.png}
\caption{Gromacs parallel efficiency on ARCHER, Blue Waters and Stampede. A single 20ps gromacs simulation of the NTL9 system is performed using various core counts on the three machines and the execution time is measured.}
\label{fig:gmx-eff}
\end{figure}
\subsubsection{Analysis tools}
\label{sec:tools}
Due to the nature of the two workflows, there are many parallel simulation
tasks, but only a single analysis task. Therefore, the analysis task may be
configured to run on as many cores as are available to the simulations. Both
CoCo and LSDMap are parallelised using MPI, and consist
of parts which are independent, e.g., reading of
trajectory files in CoCo, and involve communication e.g. diagonalisation of
the covariance matrix in CoCo and the diffusion matrix in LSDMap, so the parallel scaling
is expected to be sub-linear.
The performance of CoCo is also strongly dependent on I/O since it reads the
entire trajectory file rather than just the final configurations like LSDMap.
Figures \ref{fig:coco-perf}
show the strong scaling of CoCo for a fixed input of 256 simulations. We
see that CoCo is able to scale to at least 256 cores on ARCHER and Blue Waters,
and to around 32 cores on Stampede, thus
for our following experiments we configure the workflow to run CoCo with as many
cores as there are input trajectories.
LSDMap (Figure \ref{fig:lsdmap-perf}) however, does not scale efficiently much beyond a single node on each machine, even with over 2000 input structures. Nevertheless, we run LSDMap on as many cores as are available, even though it cannot use them fully. Due to the structure of the workflow, those cores would otherwise sit idle during the analysis phase.
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_coco_ttc.png}
\caption{Strong scaling of CoCo analysis tool on ARCHER, Blue Waters and Stampede. A total of 256 simulations are analyzed using various core counts on the three machines and execution time is measured.}
\label{fig:coco-perf}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./scaling-lsdmap2.png}
\caption{Parallel efficiency of LSDMap on ARCHER, Blue Waters and Stampede. A total of 2449 structures are analyzed using various core counts on the three machines and execution time is measured.}
\label{fig:lsdmap-perf}
\end{figure}
\subsection{Evaluation of ExTASY}
\subsubsection{Characterization of overheads}
\label{sec:overhead}
In addition to the necessity of characterizing performance overhead introduced
by a new system approach and implementation, in order to instill confidence in
potential users of ExTASY\xspace it is important to measure the overheads imposed by
ExTASY\xspace. The objective is to discern the contributions from the different aspects
of the ExTASY\xspace framework as opposed to MD and analysis components. The time taken
to create, launch and terminate all of the simulations or the instantiate
ExTASY\xspace framework itself on the resource are examples of the former overhead.
All of the experiments use Ensemble Toolkit\xspace version 0.3.14.
We ran a single iteration of the workflow with null
workloads, i.e., where the task did no work (\texttt{/bin/sleep 0}), but
otherwise was configured as a ``normal'' simulation task, launched using MPI and
taking a whole node on each of the machines. The number of tasks ranged from 16
to 128, and they were all run concurrently.
Figure \ref{fig:overhead} shows that the overheads on Stampede and
Blue Waters are relatively small, growing from $<$5s to around 15s for 128
tasks. On ARCHER the overheads are much larger (70-350s), which after further
investigation is due to the \texttt{aprun} job launcher, which performs
poorly when multiple concurrent tasks are launched.
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth, height=0.22\textwidth]{./plot_sleep0_multi_core_merged.png}
\caption{Measurement of overhead from ExTASY\xspace on ARCHER, Blue Waters and Stampede. Using only the simulation stage of the SAL pattern, overhead from ExTASY\xspace is measured on the three machines at various core counts. }
\label{fig:overhead}
\end{figure}
\subsubsection{Strong scaling test}
\label{sec:strong-scaling}
To test the strong scaling of the ExTASY workflows, we fix the number of
executing instances (independent MD simulations) to 128 and vary the total
number of CPU cores used to execute the workflow. The largest
experiments use enough CPU cores that all of the MD simulations execute
concurrently. For example, on ARCHER, 128 instances, each executing on a single
node (24 cores) gives a maximum of 3072 cores.
Since the MD simulations are independent and may be executed concurrently by
ExTASY, we expect that as the number of cores is increased, the simulation time
should decrease proportionally. The time spent in the analysis part is expected
to be constant since the total amount of MD data is constant, and despite the
parallelisation of the analysis tools as can be seen from Figure 5, the time to
completion plateaus at fairly low core counts.
Figure~\ref{fig:grlsd-on-archer-bw-strong} (\textbf{bottom}) shows the results of this experiment for the
DM-d-MD workflow executed on Blue Waters. The simulation time decreases from
395.7s on 512 cores to 79.52s on 4096 cores, a speedup of 4.97x with 8x as many
cores -- yielding a scaling efficiency of 62\%. The analysis time is
essentially constant at around 100s, as expected. The loss of scaling
efficiency for the simulation part comes from two sources. Firstly, there is
the fixed overhead discussed in Section~\ref{sec:overhead} associated with the
execution of 128 concurrent tasks, which is approximately 15s. Secondly, the
actual computation which occurs within each task take longer when more
simulations are run concurrently, due to the fact that they all write to the
same shared filesystem. For example, when 16 instances are run concurrently on
512 cores, the MD simulations take an average of 45.6s each. When all 128
instances are run concurrently, each takes 49.0s, or 3.4s slower. If these
effects are removed, the effective scaling efficiency on 4096 cores rises to
77\%.
Similar results are obtained on ARCHER
(Figure~\ref{fig:grlsd-on-archer-bw-strong}, \textbf{top}), although the scaling of the
simulation part tails off on 3072 cores, and the LSDMap analysis takes somewhat
longer, with higher variability than Blue Waters. Both of these are due to the
fact that both the MD and analysis involve significant I/O, and it is known that
opening many small files concurrently is slow as the metadata servers of the
parallel Lustre filesystem become a bottleneck \cite{ARCHER-IO}.
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_grlsd_Archer_Bluewaters_strong.png}
\caption{Strong scaling of DM-d-MD workflow on ARCHER
(\textbf{top}) and Blue Waters (\textbf{bottom}). The number of simulations is
held constant at 128, number of cores per simulation at 24 on ARCHER and 32 on
Bluewaters. The total number of cores used is varied with a constant workload,
hence measuring strong scaling performance of the framework.
}
\label{fig:grlsd-on-archer-bw-strong}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_gmxcoco_Archer_Stampede_strong_newcoco.png}
\caption{Strong scaling of CoCo-MD workflow on ARCHER (\textbf{top}) and
Stampede (\textbf{bottom}). The number of simulations is held constant at 128,
number of cores per simulation at 24 on ARCHER and 16 on Stampede. The total
number of cores used is varied with a constant workload, hence measuring
strong scale performance of the framework.
}
\label{fig:gmxcoco-on-archer-stampede-strong}
\end{figure}
CoCo-MD on Stampede (Figure \ref{fig:gmxcoco-on-archer-stampede-strong}, \textbf{bottom}) has similar
strong scaling for the simulation part as DM-d-MD. The simulation time
decreases from 363s on 256 cores to 83.7s on 2048 cores -- a speedup of 4.3x for
a 8-fold increase in the number of cores (54\% efficiency). However, the
analysis time (CoCo) does not scale due to the fact that the
parallelisation in CoCo is limited to the number of input trajectories, which is
128 in this case, even if more cores are available.
The CoCo-MD workflow on ARCHER
(Figure\ref{fig:gmxcoco-on-archer-stampede-strong}, \textbf{top}) does not show
as good scaling as DM-d-MD, or CoCo-MD on the other platforms. The reason for
this lies in the fact that after the actual molecular dynamics calculation, a
`trajectory conversion' step is required to prepare the data for CoCo. This
step only takes a fraction of a second to execute, but there is a very large
overhead caused by \texttt{aprun}, which allocates resources to and launches
each individual task. This does not occur on Blue Waters, which uses the
ORTE\cite{rp-orte} implementation of RADICAL-Pilot\xspace that is not yet default on ARCHER.
\subsubsection{Weak scaling test}
To investigate the weak scaling properties of ExTASY\xspace, we fix the ratio of number
of instances to CPU cores, and vary the number of instances with the constraint
that all simulations can execute concurrently. For example, on ARCHER 16
instances are executed on one node each (24 cores) giving a total of 384 cores,
and the number of instances is increased to 128, i.e., the number of cores is
3072.
Since all simulations run concurrently, and the length of each simulation does
not change, we expect the simulation time to be a constant. However, the
analysis part will increase since the performance of the analysis tools is a
function both of the input data size (depending on the number of instances), as
well as the number of cores available, and even though the number of cores is proportional
to the data size, the amount of work grows faster than linearly with the data size.
For the DM-d-MD workflow on Blue Waters (Figure~\ref{fig:grlsd-on-bw-stampede-weak}, \textbf{top}) we
observe a small increase of 21.8s in the simulation part as we scale from 512 to
4096 cores. Similar to the strong scaling results, this is combination of the
overhead due to the increased number of tasks with a slowdown of the individual
tasks themselves. The analysis is found to increase sub-linearly. As discussed
in section \ref{sec:tools} the LSDMap computation consists of parts which are
both linear and quadratic in the size of the input data. Combined with an
increasing number of cores available for the tool, sub-linear scaling is the
result. Similar behaviour is observed on Stampede
(Figure~\ref{fig:grlsd-on-bw-stampede-weak}, \textbf{bottom}), although with a different weighting
of the simulation and analysis part, reflecting the fact that the performance of
each kernel depends on how well optimised the application binary is on the
execution platform.
The weak-scaling of CoCo-MD on ARCHER (Figure~\ref{fig:gmxcoco-on-archer-stampede-weak}, \textbf{top})
shows very clearly the aprun bottleneck discussion in Section
\ref{sec:strong-scaling}, and the effect increases as the number of concurrent
tasks grows. However, the analysis part scales better than linearly, which is
to be expected since CoCo consists of parts which weak scale ideally
(independent operations per trajectory file) and parts such as the construction
and diagonalisation of the covariance matrix which grow as the data size
squared or more.
On Stampede, the weak scaling of the simulation part of the CoCo-MD workflow (Figure \ref{fig:gmxcoco-on-archer-stampede-weak}, \textbf{bottom}) is much better than ARCHER. The simulation time grows only by around 50s compared to over 700s on ARCHER over the range of cores that we tested. CoCo scales almost identically to ARCHER.
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_grlsd_Bluewaters_Stampede_weak.png}
\caption{Weak scaling of DM-d-MD workflow on Blue Waters (\textbf{top}) and Stampede (\textbf{bottom}). The number of cores per simulation is held constant at 32 on Blue Waters and 16 on Stampede. The total number of simulations is varied from 16-128 and the cores used are increased proportionally. By keeping the ratio of the workload to the number of resources constant, we observe the weak scaling performance of the framework.
}
\label{fig:grlsd-on-bw-stampede-weak}
\end{figure}
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_gmxcoco_Archer_Stampede_weak_newcoco.png}
\caption{Weak scaling of CoCo-MD workflow on ARCHER (\textbf{top}) and Stampede (\textbf{bottom}). The number of cores per simulation is held constant at 24 on ARCHER and 16 on Stampede. The total number of instances is varied from 16-128 and the cores used are increased proportionally. By keeping the ratio of the workload to the number of resources constant, we observe the weak scaling performance of the framework.
}
\label{fig:gmxcoco-on-archer-stampede-weak}
\end{figure}
\subsubsection{Effect of larger ensembles}
To distinguish the effects caused by strong scaling (increasing parallelism with
a fixed amount of work) and weak scaling (increasing parallelism proportionally
to the amount of work), we also measured the effect of increasing the amount of
work with a fixed number of compute cores available. Figure
\ref{fig:grlsd-para} shows the results for the DM-d-MD workflow running on
Blue Waters as we vary the number of MD instances from 128 to 1024, keeping the
total number of cores available at 4096. Since each task runs on a single node
(32 cores per instance), only 128 simulation tasks can run concurrently.
Ideally, we would expect that the simulation time should increase linearly with
the number of instances. In practice, we see that the time taken grows by only
7.4x as the number of instances increases from 128 and 1024 i.e., a factor
of 8. This is due to the fact that some of the overheads related to managing
the tasks that occur before or after execution in the 128 task case are one-time
overheads, i.e., those overheads are hidden as they are done concurrently (in
the RADICAL-Pilot\xspace Agent) with the execution of the remaining tasks when the number of
instances is greater than 128. The scaling of the analysis part is
consistent with that discussed in Section~\ref{sec:tools}, that there is a close to linear
scaling since the larger the ensemble size, the more parallelism is available in LSDMap
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_grlsd_NCSA_Bluewaters_parallelization.png}
\caption{DM-d-MD workflow on Stampede. Workload is increased from 128 instances to 1024,
keeping the number of
cores constant at 4096. Within the overheads, the increase in execution time
is in proportion with increase in the workload.}
\label{fig:grlsd-para}
\end{figure}
\subsubsection{Dynamic simulations}
An important characteristic of the LSDMap and CoCo based workflows is that the
number of instances typically changes after each simulation-analysis
iteration. Thanks to the pilot-abstraction, the ExTASY\xspace framework supports flexible
mapping between the number of concurrent instances and the total number of
cores, while being agnostic of the number of cores per instance. This
functionality is used by the DM-d-MD workflow, where, depending on the progress
through the conformation space of the system being explored, LSDMap may decide
to spawn more (or less) trajectories for the next iteration of sampling. Figure
\ref{fig:dynamic} illustrates this capability. We ran the DM-d-MD workflow on
Blue Waters for three configurations with 32, 64 and 128 initial instances. We
can see that after an initial growth phase the number of instances seems to
stablise for the remaining iterations, although the difference from the starting
configuration and the number of iterations taken to stabilise is not
algorithmically or systematically predictable. The flexible resource
utilization capabilities that ExTASY\xspace is built upon prove critical.
\begin{figure}[!t]
\centering
\includegraphics[width=0.48\textwidth]{./plot_grlsd_NCSA_Bluewaters_multi_iter.png}
\caption{Support for dynamic workload in ExTASY: The DM-d-MD algorithm dictates the number of instances at every iteration. The number of instances in each iteration (for a total of 5 iterations) when starting with 32, 64, 128 instances is presented.}
\label{fig:dynamic}
\end{figure}
\subsection{Summary of Experiments}
We have shown illustrative performance data for two different applications --
CoCo-MD and DM-d-MD -- based on different analysis methods, on three distinct
HPC platforms - ARCHER, Blue Waters and Stampede. The overall scaling to
O(1000) simulations is clearly demonstated, and we have analysed the scaling
behaviour of the ExTASY\xspace framework itself (overheads) and the individual simulation
and analysis programs which constitute the workflow.
\section{Discussion and Conclusion}
State-of the-art computational biophysics approaches aim to balance three
different requirements: force-fields accuracy, advanced sampling capabilities,
and rigorous and fast data analysis. These points are strongly interconnected.
In particular, it is becoming clear that advanced sampling and data analysis
need to be tightly coupled to work efficiently and accurately, as the
configurational space that has already been sampled needs to be analyzed
on-the-fly to inform on how to proceed with further sampling. Furthermore, many
advanced sampling algorithms for biomolecular simulations require flexible and
scalable support for multiple simulations. As no final solution yet exists on
the best strategy for adaptive sampling (and different physical systems may require a
combination of strategies), there is a need to allow combination of different MD
engines with different analysis tools, and can be easily extended or modified by
end-users to build their own workflows, both for development of new strategies,
and for applications to the study of complex biomolecular systems.
ExTASY\xspace is designed and implemented to provide a significant step in this
direction. ExTASY\xspace allows to simulate many parallel MD trajectories (by means of
standard MD engines), to extract long timescale information from the
trajectories (by means of different dimensionality reduction methods), and to
use the information extracted from the data for adaptively improving sampling.
ExTASY\xspace has been utilized by different MD engines and analysis algorithms, with
only pre-defined and localized changes.
In Section~\ref{sec:soft_arch}, we formally identified the functional,
performance and usability requirements to support the coupling of MD simulations
with advanced sampling algorithms. We then presented the design and
implementation of ExTASY\xspace, an \emph{extensible}, \emph{portable} and
\emph{scalable} Python framework for building advanced sampling workflow
applications to achieve these requirements. After establishing accurate
estimates of the overhead of using ExTASY\xspace, Section~\ref{sec: perf_eval} consisted
of experiments designed to validate the design objectives; we performed
experiments that characterized ExTASY\xspace along traditional scaling metrics, but also
investigated ExTASY\xspace beyond single weak and strong scaling performance. With the
exception of some machine specific reasons,ExTASY\xspace displayed linear scaling for
both strong and weak scaling tests on various machines up to O(1000) simulation
instances on up to O(1000) nodes for both DM-d-MD and CoCo-MD workflows.
In order to keep the footprint of new software small, ExTASY\xspace builds upon
well-defined and understood abstractions and their efficient and interoperable
implementation (Ensemble Toolkit\xspace, RADICAL-Pilot\xspace). This provides double duty: The core
functionality of ExTASY\xspace can be provided by simple higher level extensions of
complex system software, while allowing it to build upon the performance and
optimization of the underlying system software layers. This also allows ExTASY\xspace
to employ good systems engineering practice: well-defined and good base
performance, while being amenable to platform-specific optimizations (e.g.
using ORTE on Blue Waters~\cite{rp-orte}).
The design of ExTASY\xspace to reuse existing capabilities, for extensibility to
different MD codes and sampling algorithms while providing well defined
functionality and performance are essential features to ensure the
sustainability of ExTASY\xspace. Compared to existing software tools and libraries for
advanced sampling, ExTASY\xspace provides a much more flexible approach that is agnostic
of individual tools and compute platforms, is architected to enable efficient
and scalable performance and has a simple but general user interface. The ExTASY\xspace
toolkit is freely available from \url{http://www.extasy-project.org}.
The ExTASY\xspace toolkit has been used to deliver two hands-on computational science
training exercises and tutorials to the bio-molecular simulations community with
a focus on advanced sampling. Participants were given the opportunity to utilize
HPC systems in real time for advanced sampling problems of their own. Details of
both events can be found at
\url{http://extasy-project.org/events.html#epccmay2016}. A link to the lessons
and experience from the first workshop can be found at:
\url{https://goo.gl/nMSd27}.
\section{Acknowledgments}
{\footnotesize This work was funded by the NSF SSI Awards (CHE-1265788 and
CHE-1265929) and EPSRC (EP/K039490/1). This work used the ARCHER UK National
Supercomputing Service (http://www.archer.ac.uk). We acknowledge access to
XSEDE computational facilities via TG-MCB090174 and Blue Waters via
NSF-1516469. We gratefully acknowledge the input from various people who have
helped the development of the ExTASY workflows: everyone else involved the
ExTASY project, the attendees at ExTASY tutorials and beta testing sessions,
and particularly David Dotson and Gareth Shannon who provided in-depth
comments and suggestions.\par}
\newcommand{\setlength{\itemsep}{0.25 em}}{\setlength{\itemsep}{0.25 em}}
\bibliographystyle{IEEEtran}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 789 |
Michael Völkel (* 30. Mai 1961 in Herne) ist ein deutscher Liedermacher, Komponist und Multiinstrumentalist auf Gitarre, Querflöte, Mandoline, Waldzither, Dudelsack, Drehleier, Mundharmonika, eine siebensaitige Variation der Trossinger Leier und Percussion. Er tritt unter seinem eigenen Namen oder in Mittelalterkreisen als Spielmann Michel auf. Darüber hinaus ist er als Gitarrenlehrer und Autor tätig.
Leben
Mit 17 Jahren begann Michael Völkel, sich autodidaktisch das Gitarrenspiel beizubringen. Beeinflusst von Musikern wie Leo Kottke oder Werner Lämmerhirt wandte er sich dem Fingerpicking zu, war aber auch immer mit der E-Gitarre in verschiedenen Rockbands aktiv. Fünf Jahre nahm Michael Völkel Gesangsunterricht in klassischem Bass.
Von den 1990er Jahren bis 2006 war Völkel Gitarrist und Flötist bei der Reggae-Formation "Flat Fred and the Brains". Nach Auflösung der Band blieben Völkel und der Bassist Jürgen Schell zusammen und begründeten das Trio "Krimimusik", eine Jazz-Gruppe, die Musik der alten Edgar-Wallace-Filme spielte. Die Band existierte bis zum Tod Schells im Jahr 2016 und wird seit 2019 als Duo mit Gründungsmitglied Jörg Meißner am Saxofon fortgeführt.
2008 gab Michael Völkel seinen Beruf als Sozialarbeiter auf, um Musiker zu werden.
Von 2015 bis 2018 trat er auch in der Formation "Spielmann Michel und Kumpanei" auf. Dies war eine lose Formation von Musikern, die sich nur für bestimmte Anlässe zusammenfand. 2018 wurde daraus wieder ein feste Formation mit dem Namen Ensemble Psaltarello. Aktuelle Besetzung: Spielmann Michel (Saiten, Flöten, Gesang), Gerd Dowedeit-Bellinghausen (Oboe, Schalmei, Gesang), Kery Felske (Gesang), Andronik Yegiazarian (Harfe, Percussion).
Völkel ist auch als Autor tätig und hat mehrere Bücher veröffentlicht, darunter ein Lehrbuch für Gitarre im Jahr 2017, seinen ersten Roman Der Schrecken im Flöz im Jahr 2019 und ein Ukulelenlehrbuch im Jahr 2022.
2019 wurde Michael Völkel Mitglied der Country- und Bluegrassband "Tom Frost Four". Er spielt dort Sechssaitiges Banjo in einer speziell für die Bluegrass - Musik entwickelten Stimmung (e, a, d', g, h, e'), Mundharmonika und Lap-Steel-Gitarre. Die Band tritt regelmäßig auf kleinen und größeren Bühnen auf.
Seit 2019 arbeitet Michael Völkel mit der Musikerin und Autorin Jaana Redflower zusammen. Sie hat Illustrationen und Videoschnitte für seine Projekte angefertigt und es gab gemeinsame Auftritte. Auf Völkels CD "Projekt V", befindet sich eine Gitarrenbearbeitung von "Cyberpunk-Invasion" von Redflowers Band "Gamma Rats".
2020 tat er sich mit den Künstlern Volker Lückfeldt und Edward P. zusammen. In der Künstlergruppe Sound and Art präsentieren sie ein Bühnenprogramm aus Musik, Lesung und Livemalerei. Nachdem Lückfeldt aus privaten Gründen nicht mehr regelmäßig mitwirken konnte, übernahm der Düsseldorfer Autor und Rezitator Andreas Niggemeier seinen Part.
2021 begann Michael Völkel mit den Arbeiten an der CD "Projekt V", die er über das Stipendium "Neustart Kultur" des Deutschen Musikrates finanzierte. Das Stipendium diente der Unterstützung von Künstlern während der Coronazeit. Das Album wurde im Oktober 2022 veröffentlicht.
Zugleich begannen die Arbeiten an der Videoreihe "Mit dem Spielmann durch die Zeiten -Zeitreise durch die Musik", die nach Fertigstellung der 8 einzelnen Clips bei Youtube hochgeladen wurde und über die Webseiten von Michael Völkel selbst, der des Westfälischen Landesmuseums für Archäologie in Herne und der der Musikschule in Herne verlinkt wurden.
Als Autor ist Michael Völkel seit 2022 Mitglied im Phantastik-Autoren-Netzwerk e.V. (abgekürzt PAN)
Veröffentlichungen
Diskografie
Alben
2022 Projekt V - Michael Völkel and guests
2021 Cyberforce - Acoustic and Electronic Guitar Music
2019 Landscapes - Acoustic Guitar Music
2018 Rattenplage (Überarbeitete Zweitauflage des Buches mit überarbeiteter CD)
2016 Spielmann Michel Live (Live-DVD)
2016 Rattenplage (Erweiterte Neuauflage als Buch mit längerer CD)
2015 Rattenplage (Eigenverlag als 40-seitiges Comicheft mit CD)
2010 Des Zeitreisenden Liederbuch
2002 Offbeats
1996 Little Steps
1988 Wide Land (LP)
Sampler
Harmonii (Sampler mit Herner Musikern)
Premiere (Sampler mit Herner Musikern)
Stupa Greece
Verbündet III bis V (Sampler-Serie von Sascha Hummel mit mittelalterlicher Musik)
bluebox (Zusammenstellung von Live-Aufnahmen verschiedener Musiker auf einer offenen Bühne in Gelsenkirchen)
diverse Beiträge auf den beigelegten CDs verschiedener Magazine (darunter Akustik Gitarre, Zillo medieval, Miroque, Sonic Seducer)
Gemeinschaftsprojekte
1996 A Summer's Dream von De Yoghurts
2002 Against Fascism (Mit Flat Fred and the Brains)
2004 Snow in the Desert (Mit Flat Fred and the Brains)
2014 Krimimusik (CD mit Musik aus Kriminalfilmen)
2017 Home von Jürgen Schell (Der Erlös dieser CD wird der Stiftung Deutsche Krebshilfe gespendet. Sie enthält Kompositionen von Schell und wurde posthum von Völkel produziert.)
Filmmusik
Karma-Guen 1994 (Doku zu einer Buddhistischen Veranstaltung in Spanien)
Thyssen-Krupp (Musik zu einem Promo-Film über Gleisbautechnik)
Goliath en de dochters van Es-Sent (Musik zu einem niederländischen Tanzfilm)
Musik für einen Lehrfilm über Salzgewinnung für das Westdeutsche Landesmuseum für Archäologie, Herne
seit 2020 verwendet der ruhrgebietslokale Youtubekanal "Mondkanal" die Kompositionen von Michael Völkel als Filmmusik für seine Clips.
2021 komponierte und produzierte Völkel den Jingle "Knabbi,die Theatermaus" für das Kleine Theater in Herne. (Text von Josef Koll).
2022 Videoreihe "Mit dem Spielmann durch die Zeiten - Zeitreise durch die Musik auf Youtube veröffentlicht.
Printmedien
In der Geschichtszeitschrift Karfunkel veröffentlichte er bis 2016 Spielmann Michels Lautenkunde, eine Art Gitarrenlektion, in der auf humorvolle Weise mittelalterliche Musik, Folk, Harmonielehre und Gitarrenspieltechnik vorgestellt und erklärt wurden. Die Idee dieser Kolumne hat er in seinem Buch Tricks für die Gitarre neu aufgegriffen.
Karfunkel:
Spielmann Michels Lautenkunde (Kolumne)
Die Kathedrale von Amiens (Karfunkel Nr. 104)
Jahrbuch der Esoterik Band 4 (Fischer-Verlag): Wanderer zwischen den Welten
2017 Tricks auf der Gitarre Sachbuch (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2017 Machenschaften, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2017 Vorfreude auf Weihnachten, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2018 Intrigenspiel, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2019 Der Schrecken im Flöz Roman (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2019 Schnauze, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2019 Das kleine Buch vom großen Auftritt (Autor Mike Gromberg, EPV-Verlag, Hattingen) Gastbeitrag,
2021 Verloren, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2021 Heiter bis Neblig, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2021 Strandgeflüster ohne Ende, zusammen mit anderen Autoren des Verlages (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2022 Ukulelenkurs Band 1 Sachbuch (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
2023 Bolle auf Abwegen Anthologie (EPV-Verlag, Hattingen)
Preise und Auszeichnungen
2021: Planet Awards Radioplanet Berlin: 2. Platz bei der Wahl zum Song des Jahres für "Cyberforce".
2020: Planet Awards Radioplanet Berlin: 2. Platz bei der Wahl zum Musiker des Jahres,
2020: Planet Awards Radioplanet Berlin: 3. Platz bei der Wahl zum Song des Jahres für "Seaside View".
2018: Planet Awards Radioplanet Berlin: 1. Platz bei der Wahl zur Anthologie des Jahres für das Buch Intrigenspiel (als einer von 18 Autoren).
2000: Veröffentlichung des "Readers Song" im "Akustik Gitarre"-Magazin
1996: 2. Platz bei einem bundesweiten Gitarren-Kompositionswettbewerb der Firmen, Kaman, Ovation und der Jazz- und Rockschule Freiburg.
Geschichtliches Engagement
Im LWL-Museum für Archäologie in Herne führt Michael Völkel regelmäßige Vorträge in Text und Musik als Spielmann Michel zu geschichtlichen Themen durch.
Weblinks
Offizielle Webseite von Michael Völkel
Website des Spielmann Michel (Mittelaltermusik)
Einzelnachweise
Gitarrist
Liedermacher
Deutscher
Geboren 1961
Mann | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaWikipedia"
} | 5,623 |
{"url":"https:\/\/lmqm.xyz\/a\/8xw\/rotations","text":"## Notes\n\nWe write $$\\A$$ for the set of points, and $$\\V$$ for the corresponding set of vectors.\n\n(Using blackboard bold for this is weird, normally you'd write them $$A$$ and $$V,$$ but I already used $$A$$ as the name of a point.)\n\n### Rotating\n\nLet $A$ and $B$ be points in $$\\A,$$ and let $\\theta$ be an angle. We write $$\\RotP\\theta AB$$ for the point obtained by rotating $B$ by $\\theta$ around $A.$\n\nWe write $$\\RotP\\theta A{\\mathord?}$$ to speak of the process.\n\n### Simplification\n\nLet $v$ be a vector in $$\\V,$$ and let $\\theta$ be an angle. We write $$\\RotVparen\\theta v$$ for $v$ rotated (counterclockwise) by the angle $\\theta.$\n\nWe write $$\\Rot\\theta$$ or $$\\RotVparen\\theta{\\mathord?}$$ to speak of the operation itself (as opposed to applying it to a specific vector).\n\n$\\RotP\\theta AB = A + \\RotVparen\\theta{B - A}$\n\nThis equation can also be expressed via the commutative diagram\n$\\xymatrix@=3em{ \\A \\ar[r]^-{\\RotP\\theta A{\\mathord?}} \\ar[d]_-{\\mathord? - A} & \\A\\\\ \\V \\ar[r]_-{\\RotVparen\\theta{\\mathord?}} & \\V \\ar[u]_-{A + \\mathord?} }$\n\n### Derivation\n\nThe crucial observation was that rotation behaved well with respect to these operations, in the sense that \\begin{align*} \\RotVparen\\theta{u + v} &= \\RotVparen\\theta u + \\RotVparen\\theta v\\\\ \\RotVparen\\theta{c\\cdot v} &= c\\cdot\\RotVparen\\theta v \\end{align*} for any vectors $u,\\ v$ and any scalar $c.$ You can use the widget below to convince yourself of this.\n\nThis allows us to write \\begin{align*} \\RotV\\theta{\\vec xy} &= \\RotVParen\\theta{x\\vec10 + y\\vec01}\\\\ &= x\\,\\RotV\\theta{\\vec10} + y\\,\\RotV\\theta{\\vec01} \\end{align*} Thus, once we know how to rotate $\\vec10$ and $\\vec01$ by $\\theta,$ we know how to rotate any angle at all by $\\theta!$\n\nThe easiest nontrivial case to try this out on is $$\\theta=90^\\circ = \\Twopi\/4.$$ In this case we know that $\\RotV{90^\\circ}{\\vec10} = \\vec01, \\qquad \\RotV{90^\\circ}{\\vec01} = \\vec{-1}0 \\!.$ Our general formula for rotation by 90 degrees is then $\\RotV{90^\\circ}{\\vec xy} = \\vec{-y}{x}$\n\nNow let's come back to the case of a general angle $\\theta.$ Using the calculation above and the fact that $$\\Rot\\alpha\\Rot\\beta = \\Rot\\beta\\Rot\\alpha,$$ \\begin{align*} \\RotV\\theta{\\vec xy} &= x\\,\\RotV\\theta{\\vec10} + y\\,\\RotV\\theta{\\vec01}\\\\ &= x\\,\\Rot\\theta\\vec10 + y\\,\\Rot\\theta\\Rot{90^\\circ}\\vec10\\\\ &= x\\,\\Rot\\theta\\vec10 + y\\,\\Rot{90^\\circ}\\Rot\\theta\\vec10 \\end{align*} Thus, to calculate $$\\RotV\\theta{\\vec xy},$$ we only need to know $$\\RotV\\theta{\\vec10}\\!.$$ But by definition this is $\\Rot\\theta\\vec10 = \\vec{\\cos\\theta}{\\sin\\theta}\\!.$ Plugging this back into our calculation, we get \\begin{align*} \\Rot\\theta\\vec xy &= x\\vec{\\cos\\theta}{\\sin\\theta} + y\\vec{-\\sin\\theta}{\\cos\\theta}\\\\ &= \\vec{x\\cos\\theta - y\\sin\\theta}{x\\sin\\theta + y\\cos\\theta} \\end{align*}\n\n## Problems\n\nIn this problem set, we will use angle brackets to denote points, e.g. $$\\pt10,$$ and square brackets to denote vectors, e.g. $\\vec32.$ This is not standard notation. Typically both are denoted by square brackets (or parentheses), and distinguished by context (if at all).\n\n1. We reduced the problem of computing $$\\RotP\\theta AB$$ to the problem of computing $$\\RotVparen\\theta {B-A},$$ and found a formula for that, but we never explicitly wrote down the resulting formula for $$\\RotP\\theta AB.$$ So suppose that $$A = \\pt {a_1}{a_2}$$ and $$B = \\pt {b_1}{b_2},$$ and write down an explicit formula for $$\\RotP\\theta AB.$$\n2. In the video, we established the formula $$$\\label{rot} \\RotV\\theta{\\vec xy} = x\\vec{\\cos\\theta}{\\sin\\theta} + y\\vec{-\\sin\\theta}{\\phantom{\\mathop-}\\cos\\theta} = \\vec{x\\cos\\theta - y\\sin\\theta}{x\\sin\\theta + y\\cos\\theta}$$$ for rotating a vector $\\vec xy$ by an angle $\\theta$ about the origin. Use this to derive the \"angle-sum identities\" $$$\\label{angle-sum} \\vec {\\cos(\\alpha+\\beta)} {\\sin(\\alpha+\\beta)} = \\vec{\\cos(\\alpha)\\cos(\\beta) - \\sin(\\alpha)\\sin(\\beta)} {\\cos(\\alpha)\\sin(\\beta) + \\sin(\\alpha)\\cos(\\beta)}.$$$\n\n3. Establish the \"double-angle\" identities \\begin{aligned} \\cos(2\\theta) &= \\cos^2(\\theta) - \\sin^2(\\theta)\\\\ &= 2\\cos^2(\\theta) - 1\\\\ & = 1 - 2\\sin^2(\\theta)\\\\ \\sin(2\\theta) &= 2\\cos(\\theta)\\sin(\\theta) \\end{aligned} and the \"half-angle\" identities \\begin{align} \\cos(\\theta\/2) &= \\pm\\sqrt{\\frac{1+\\cos(\\theta)}2} \\label{half-cos}\\\\ \\sin(\\theta\/2) &= \\pm\\sqrt{\\frac{1-\\cos(\\theta)}2}. \\label{half-sin} \\end{align}\n\n4. Find $\\cos15^\\circ,$ $\\sin15^\\circ,$ $\\cos75^\\circ,$ $\\sin75^\\circ.$","date":"2022-09-26 16:45:17","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 1, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 45, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 0, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 0, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 1, \"equation\": 2, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.9997826218605042, \"perplexity\": 362.5537687112942}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": false, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.3, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 5, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2022-40\/segments\/1664030334912.28\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20220926144455-20220926174455-00600.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
using System.IO;
using System.Net.Http;
using System.Threading.Tasks;
using Genius.Clients.Interfaces;
using Genius.Http;
using Genius.Models.Response;
using Jil;
namespace Genius.Clients
{
public class ArtistClient : IArtistClient
{
private static IGeniusRestClient _geniusRestClient;
public ArtistClient(IGeniusRestClient geniusRestClient)
{
_geniusRestClient = geniusRestClient;
}
public async Task<ArtistResponse> GetArtist(ulong artistId)
{
var response = await _geniusRestClient.GetASync("/artists/" + artistId + "?text_format=html");
using (var input = new StringReader(response))
{
var artistResponse = JSON.Deserialize<ArtistResponse>(input);
if (artistResponse.Meta.Status >= 400)
{
throw new HttpRequestException(artistResponse.Meta.Status +
artistResponse.Meta.Message);
}
return artistResponse;
}
}
public async Task<ArtistsSongsResponse> GetArtistsSongs(ulong artistId, string sort = "default",
string perPage = null, string page = null)
{
var endpoint = "/artists/" + artistId + "/songs?" + "sort=" + sort;
if (!string.IsNullOrWhiteSpace(perPage))
{
endpoint += "&per_page=" + perPage;
}
if (!string.IsNullOrWhiteSpace(page))
{
endpoint += "&page=" + page;
}
var response = await _geniusRestClient.GetASync(endpoint);
using (var input = new StringReader(response))
{
var artistsSongsResponse = JSON.Deserialize<ArtistsSongsResponse>(input);
if (artistsSongsResponse.Meta.Status >= 400)
{
throw new HttpRequestException(artistsSongsResponse.Meta.Status +
artistsSongsResponse.Meta.Message);
}
return artistsSongsResponse;
}
}
}
} | {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaGithub"
} | 3,768 |
Q: Elasticsearch query date sorting parent-child relation (recurring events) I'm currently working on an app where we are handling events.
So, in Elasticsearch, we do have a document named Event.
Previously, we only had one kind of event (unique event happening the 13 May from 9 AM to 11 AM), the sorting was simple (sort by start_date with an order)
We recently added a new feature that allows us to create recurring events, that means that we now have 2 levels inside Elasticsearch (parent-child relation).
We can have a parent event that is from the 12 May from 2 PM to the 14 May from 6 PM, linked to that event, we have the children that are daily, for example. So we'd have: 12 May 2PM-6PM, 13 May 2PM-6PM, 14 May 2PM-6PM.
The problem with the actual sort is that when we are the 12 May at 10 PM, we'll find the recurring event on top of the list and after that, will come the unique event.
I'd like to have a sorting where the nearest date has a higher priority. In that case, the unique event should have been the first on the list.
To make that happen, I have indexed node children on recurring event parent, in order to have the children start_date.
The idea would be to get the nearest date out of the children node for every recurring event and sort that one with the start_date of every unique event.
I do not have a big experience with elasticsearch, so I'm kind of stuck, I saw a lot of information in the documentation (parent-child, nested objects, scripts, etc.) but I don't know how to handle this case.
I hope that I have explained myself correctly if you have any questions, feel free to ask them, I would be happy to provide you with additional information.
A: For the future googlers, here's how I fixed it.
Had to use scripts and sort with it, here's a partial exemple of the request I'm using
GET /event/_search
{
"query" : {
"match_all": {}
},
"sort" : {
"_script" : {
"type" : "number",
"script": {
"lang": "painless",
"params": {
"currentDate": 1560230000
},
"source": """
def isRecurrenceParent = params._source.is_recurrence_parent;
def countChildren = params._source.children.length;
def currentDate = params.currentDate;
if (isRecurrenceParent === false) {
return params._source.timestamp;
}
def nearest = 0;
def lowestDiff = currentDate;
for (int i = 0; i < countChildren; i++) {
def child = params._source.children[i];
def diff = child.timestamp - currentDate;
if (diff > 0 && diff < lowestDiff) {
lowestDiff = diff;
nearest = child.timestamp;
}
}
return nearest;
"""
},
"order" : "asc"
}
}
}
A: First thing you should consider is parent and child docs are saved separately. It means Parent-Event::1 and Child-Event::1 are saved in a same shard (ES routes to shard where parent located by its id hash) but document types are different. So, you should fetch Parent and Children documents separately by query and sort by date.
(You can make following queries in php if works)
P.S: I have also same situation but I had to implement in Java. So, I made a ES query builder (https://github.com/mashhur/java-elasticsearch-querybuilder) which supports parent-child relationship queries too, you can take a look for the reference.
// search child events and sort by date
GET events/_search {
"query": {
"has_parent": {
"parent_type": "parent-event",
"query": {
"match_all": {}
}
},
"sort": [{"start_date": {"desc"}}]
}
}
// search parent events and sort by date
GET events/_search {
"query": {
"has_child": {
"type": "child-event",
"query": {
"match_all": {}
}
},
"sort": [{"start_date": {"desc"}}]
}
}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
} | 9,197 |
\section{Introduction}
It is well-known that fractional Brownian motion $B=\{ B_t\}_{t \in [0,1]}$, with Hurst parameter $H \neq \frac{1}{2}$ is neither a semimartingale nor a Markov process.
Therefore, according to \textit{Bichteler-Dellacherie} theorem, the classical Ito stochastic integration theory cannot be used to define a stochastic integral with
respect to fractional Brownian motion. In last decade, many authors studied different possible ways to define stochastic integrals with respect to fractional Brownian
motion. Essentially two different types of integrals can be defined:
\begin{itemize}
\item The pathwise Riemann-Stieltjes integral $\int_{0}^{1} u_t \mathrm{d} B_t$ exists if the integrand stochastic process $u = \{ u_t \}_{t \in [0,1]}$ has H\"older
continuous sample paths of order $\alpha > 1-H$, as a result of Young integration theory \cite{y}. Z\"ahle \cite{z} extended this integral using the fractional integration by part
formula, to some stochastic processes having some fractional smoothness.
\item The Skorokhod integral $($ or divergence integral $)$with respect to fractional Brownian motion. This integral is defined as adjoint operator of the Malliavin
derivative. It is known that for enough regular stochastic processes, the difference of this integral with corresponding pathwise Riemann-Stieltjes integral can be
explained with Malliavin trace operator. For more details see \cite{m}.
\end{itemize}
In \cite{b-c-f}, the authors studied the problem of finding a discrete approximation of the stochastic integral with respect to fractional Brownian motion defined
as divergence. They provide a discrete approximation of stochastic integrals of divergence type by means of the resolutions of the Fock space associated to fractional
Brownian motion $B$.\\
The aim of this paper is to study in more details convergence of the uniform discretization of pathwise stochastic integrals
\begin{equation}\label{eq:into}
S= \int_{0}^{1} f'_-(B_t)\mathrm{d} B_t,
\end{equation}
where $f: {\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ is a convex function. In \cite{a-m-v}, it is shown that such integrals can be understood in the generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integral sense.
Moreover, the authors considered the uniform discretization
\begin{equation*}
S_n := \sum_{i=1}^n f'_-(B_{\frac{i-1}{n}})(B_{\frac{i}{n}}-B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}), \quad n \in {\rm I\kern-0.16em N}.
\end{equation*}
They proved that $S_n$ converges to stochastic integral $S$ almost surely as $n$ tends to infinity. Note that,
from financial application point of view, it is convenient to take the left hand points $\frac{i-1}{n}$ in the definition of $S_n$. In stochastic finance the
discretization $S_n$ can be interpreted as total losses or gains of the discretized delta hedging strategy $($see \cite{a-m-v}$)$.\\
In this paper, we show that with some fine and detailed analysis one can prove $L^r$- convergence too, i.e.
\begin{equation*}
S_n \longrightarrow S \quad \text{ in } \ L^r,
\end{equation*}
as $n$ tends to infinity for some range of $r\ge 1$ and a large class of convex functions. To obtain such result, we use integration theory known as the generalized
Lebesgue-Stieltjes integration theory, introduced by Z\"ahle \cite{z}, and developed by Nualart-Rascanu in \cite{n-r} together with Lemma \ref{l:estimate}. Moreover,
we obtain a rate of convergence:
\begin{equation*}
\Big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} \big| S_n - S \big|^r \Big)^{\frac{1}{r}} \leq C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{ H - \frac{1}{2} - \epsilon} \quad n\ge 1,
\end{equation*}
for sufficiently small $\epsilon$ and $C$ is a constant independent of $n$.\\
The paper is organized as follows. In the section $2$, we state our main result. Section $3$ contains all auxiliary facts which we need to prove our main
result. The section $4$ is devoted to the proofs.
\section{Main result}
Throughout the paper, $B= \{ B_t\}_{t\in [0,1]}$ stands for a fractional Brownian motion on the interval
$[0,1]$ with Hurst parameter $H \in (\frac{1}{2},1)$. Let $f:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ be a convex
function, and denote by $\mu$ the positive Radon measure corresponding to its second derivative. Let $p$ be a positive number such that
\begin{equation}
\label{range_p}
2H<p<\frac{H}{1-H}.
\end{equation}
Define a function $C:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}\rightarrow{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ by
\begin{equation}
\label{constant}
C(a)=\max(1,|a|)e^{-\frac{\min \{ a^2,(a-1)^2 \} }{2}}.
\end{equation}
We consider the following technical assumptions related to the measure $\mu$:\\
$\mathbf{(H_{1})}$ \ For $p$ and $C(a)$ given in \ref{range_p} and \ref{constant}, it holds
\begin{equation*}
\int_{{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}} C(a)^{\frac{1}{p}}\mu(\mathrm{d} a) < \infty.
\end{equation*}
$\mathbf{(H_{2})}$ \ For $p$ and $C(a)$ given in \ref{range_p} and \ref{constant}, it holds
\begin{equation*}
\int_0^\infty C(\log a)^{\frac{1}{p}}\mu(\mathrm{d} a) < \infty.
\end{equation*}
In what follows, the stochastic integrals with respect to fractional Brownian motion are
understood in the sense of the generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integrals $($see section $3$ for more details$)$. Now we can state our main theorem.
\begin{thm}
\label{main_theorem}
Let $f:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ be a convex function. Put
\begin{equation*}
\label{RS_sum}
S_n = \sum_{i=1}^n f'_-(B_{\frac{i-1}{n}})(B_{\frac{i}{n}}-B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}), \ \text{ and } \ S = \int_0^1 f'_-(B_u)\mathrm{d} B_u.
\end{equation*}
Let $r\in[1,p)$, for $p$ given in (\ref{range_p}). If the assumption $\mathbf{(H_1)}$ holds, then \\
\begin{description}
\item[\textbf{(a)}] We have the convergence $S_n \rightarrow S$ in $L^r$.
\item[\textbf{(b)}] For every positive number $\beta$ satisfying
\begin{equation}
\label{range_beta}
1-H<\beta<\frac{H}{p},\quad \beta \ne 1-\frac{2H}{p},
\end{equation}
there exists a constant $C=C(H,\beta,r,p,f)$ such that
\begin{equation*}
\label{rate_of_convergence}
\Vert S_n-S \Vert_r = \big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} |S_n - S|^r \big)^{\frac{1}{r}} \leq C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta}, \quad n\ge 1.
\end{equation*}
\end{description}
\end{thm}
\begin{rmk}
For $r\in[1,p)$, the assumption $\mathbf{(H_1)}$ implies that $S,S_n \in L^r$.
\end{rmk}
\begin{cor}\label{main_corollary}
Let $X= \{ X_t\}_{t \in [0,1]}$ be a geometric fractional Brownian motion, i.e. $X_t =e^{B_t}$. Put
\begin{equation*}
\label{RS_sums2}
\tilde{S}_n = \sum_{i=1}^n f'_-(X_{\frac{i-1}{n}})(X_{\frac{i}{n}}-X_{\frac{i-1}{n}}), \ \text{ and } \ \tilde{S} = \int_0^1 f'_-(X_u)\mathrm{d} X_u.
\end{equation*}
Let $p$ and $\beta$ be positive numbers such that (\ref{range_p})
and (\ref{range_beta}) holds and let $r\in[1,p)$. If the assumption $\mathbf{(H_2)}$ holds, then \\
\begin{description}
\item[\textbf{(a)}] We have the convergence
$\tilde{S}_n \rightarrow \tilde{S}$ in $L^r$.
\item[\textbf{(b)}]
There exists a constant $\tilde{C}=\tilde{C}(H,\beta,r,p,f)$ such that
\begin{equation*}
\label{rate_of_convergence2}
\Vert\tilde{S}_n - \tilde{S} \Vert_r= \big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} |\tilde{S}_n - \tilde{S} |^r \big)^{\frac{1}{r}} \leq \tilde{C} \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta}, \quad n\ge 1.
\end{equation*}
\end{description}
\end{cor}
\begin{rmk}
For $r\in[1,p)$, the assumption $\mathbf{(H_2)}$ implies that $\tilde{S},\tilde{S_n} \in L^r$.
\end{rmk}
\begin{rmk}
According to Theorem 2.1, rate of convergence can be any number in a certain interval. Therefore, one can improve the rate by choosing suitable parameters
$p$ and $\beta$. In the best, rate of convergence can be brought as closely as possible to $H - \frac{1}{2}$, by letting $p$ very close to $2H$ and $\beta$ very
close to $1-H$. However, as a price the constants $C$ and $\tilde{C}$ become larger and tends to infinity as $p$ decreases to $2H$ or $\beta$ decreases to $1-H$.
\end{rmk}
\begin{rmk} It is not clear whether the approximate rate $H-\frac{1}{2}$ is the best possible rate that one can obtain.
\end{rmk}
\subsection{Related results and comparison with Brownian motion}
For more smooth integrands one can use \textit{Young-Loeve} estimate to get a better rate. In following theorem, the stochastic integral coincides with the
Riemann-Stieltjes integral $($see remark \ref{rmk:coinside}$)$.
\begin{thm}\label{main-thm-2}
Let $f:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ be a Lipschitz function. Put
\begin{equation*}
\hat{S}_n = \sum_{i=1}^n f(B_{\frac{i-1}{n}})(B_{\frac{i}{n}}-B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}), \ \text{ and } \ \hat{S} = \int_0^1 f(B_u)\mathrm{d} B_u.
\end{equation*}
Let $r \ge 1$. Then for every $\epsilon \in (0,2H-1)$, there exists a constant $\hat{C}=\hat{C}(\epsilon,H,r,f)$ such that \\
\begin{equation*}
\Vert\hat{S}_n - \hat{S} \Vert_r= \big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} |\hat{S}_n - \hat{S} |^r \big)^{\frac{1}{r}} \leq \hat{C} \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{2H-1-\epsilon}, \quad n\ge 1.
\end{equation*}
\end{thm}
For standard Brownian motion $W=\{W_t\}_{t\in[0,1]}$ i.e. $H=\frac{1}{2}$, the stochastic integral is understood in the sense of It\'{o} integral. In this case, we
consider the following assumption related to the measure $\mu$:\\
$\mathbf{(H_{3})}$ \ It holds
\begin{equation*}
\int_{{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}} e^{-\frac{\min \{ a^2,(a-1)^2 \} }{2}}\mu(\mathrm{d} a) < \infty.
\end{equation*}
Then, we obtain the following result:
\begin{thm}
\label{main-thm-bm}
Let $W= \{ W_t\}_{t\in [0,1]}$ be a standard Brownian motion and $f:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ be a convex function. Put
\begin{equation*}
\label{RS_sum}
T_n = \sum_{i=1}^n f'_-(W_{\frac{i-1}{n}})(W_{\frac{i}{n}}-W_{\frac{i-1}{n}}), \ \text{ and } \ T = \int_0^1 f'_-(W_u)\mathrm{d} W_u.
\end{equation*}
Let $r \in [ 1,2]$. If the assumption $\mathbf{(H_3)}$ holds, then\\
\begin{description}
\item[\textbf{(a)}] We have the convergence $T_n \rightarrow T$ in $L^r$.
\item[\textbf{(b)}] There exists a constant $C=C(r,f)$ such that
\begin{equation*}
\label{rate_of_convergence3}
\Vert T_n-T \Vert_r = \big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} |T_n - T|^r \big)^{\frac{1}{r}} \leq C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{1}{4}}, \quad n\ge 1.
\end{equation*}
\end{description}
\end{thm}
\begin{rmk}
The rate $n^{- \frac{1}{4}}$ obtained in Theorem \ref{main-thm-bm} is sharp for the class of convex functions satisfying the assumption $\mathbf{(H_{3})}$. For example
for the convex function $f(x)=(x-a)^+$, there exists a constant $C=C(f)$ such that we have
\begin{equation*}
C \ n^{- \frac{1}{4}} \le \big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} |T_n - T|^2 \big)^{\frac{1}{2}}, \quad n\ge 2,
\end{equation*}
where $T_n$ and $T$ are as in Theorem \ref{main-thm-bm}.
\end{rmk}
\begin{rmk}
To compare with the case of fractional Brownian motion, we see that the rate of convergence is better for fractional Brownian motion than for standard Brownian motion
if $H>\frac{3}{4}$, and worse if $H<\frac{3}{4}$. It is known that $($see \cite{ch}$)$ the mixed Brownian-fractional Brownian motion $X= W + B$ is a semimartingale, if
$H \in( \frac34,1)$, and for $H\in \left( \frac12 , \frac34 \right]$, $X$ is not a semimartingale with respect to its own filtration ${\rm I\kern-0.16em F} ^X$.
\end{rmk}
For smooth functions, using It\'{o} isometry one can easily get the rate $n^{-\frac{1}{2}}$. This is the subject of the next theorem. It is known that this is the
best possible rate one can get for Lipschitz functions. See \cite[Remark 3, p.694]{w-w} and references therein.
\begin{thm}\label{main-thm-bm2}
Let $W= \{ W_t\}_{t\in [0,1]}$ be a standard Brownian motion and $f:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$ be a Lipschitz function. Put
\begin{equation*}
\hat{T}_n = \sum_{i=1}^n f(W_{\frac{i-1}{n}})(W_{\frac{i}{n}}-W_{\frac{i-1}{n}}), \ \text{ and } \ \hat{T} = \int_0^1 f(W_u)\mathrm{d} W_u.
\end{equation*}
Let $r\geq 1$. Then there exists a constant $\hat{C}=\hat{C}(f,r)$ such that \\
\begin{equation*}
\Vert\hat{T}_n - \hat{T} \Vert_r= \big( {\rm I\kern-0.16em E} |\hat{T}_n - \hat{T} |^r \big)^{\frac{1}{r}} \leq \hat{C} \frac{1}{\sqrt{n}}, \quad n\ge 1.
\end{equation*}
\end{thm}
\section{Auxiliary facts}
\subsection{Pathwise stochastic integration in fractional Besov-type spaces} \label{gls}
Since fractional Brownian motion in not a semimartingale, hence the stochastic integral with
respect to fractional Brownian motion $B$ must be defined. Using the smoothness of
the sample paths of $B$, when $H \in (\frac{1}{2},1)$, one can define the so-called \textit{generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integral}.
We shall give some details of the construction of generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integrals in this section. For more information see \cite[Section 2.1.2]{m}.
\begin{defn}
Fix $ 0 <\beta < 1 $.\\
(i) Let $ W^{\beta}_1 = W^{\beta}_1 ([0,T])$ be the space of real-valued measurable functions $ f :[0,T] \to \mathbb{R}$ such that
\begin{equation*}
\Vert f \Vert _{1,\beta} := \sup _{0 \le s < t \le T} \left( \frac{|f(t) - f(s)|}{(t-s)^\beta} + \int _{s}^{t} \frac{|f(u) - f(s) |}{(u-s)^ {1+\beta }} du \right) < \infty .
\end{equation*}
(ii) Let $W^{\beta}_2 = W^{\beta}_2 ([0,T])$ be the space of real-valued measurable functions $ f :[0,T] \to \mathbb{R}$ such that
\begin{equation*}
\Vert f \Vert _{2,\beta} := \int_{0}^{T} \frac{|f(s)|}{s^ \beta} ds + \int_{0}^{T}\int_{0}^{s} \frac{|f(u) - f(s) |}{(u-s)^ {1+\beta }} du ds < \infty .
\end{equation*}
\end{defn}
\begin{rmk}\label{r:rmk1}
The Besov spaces are closely related to the spaces of H{\"o}lder continuous functions. More precisely, for any $ 0< \epsilon < \beta \wedge (1- \beta)$,
\vskip0.25cm
\begin{center}
$C^{\beta + \epsilon}([0,T]) \subset W^{\beta}_{1} ([0,T])\subset C^{\beta - \epsilon}([0,T]) \quad \text{and} \quad C^{\beta + \epsilon}([0,T]) \subset W^{\beta}_{2} ([0,T]) $,
\end{center}
where $C^{\gamma }([0,T])$ denotes H\"older continuous functions of order $\gamma$.
\end{rmk}
Recall that the trajectories of $B$ belong to $ C^{\gamma }([0,T]) $ almost surely for any $T>0$ and any $0<\gamma < H$. This follows from the Kolmogorov continuity theorem. By remark \ref{r:rmk1}, we obtain that the trajectories of $B$ belong to $ W^{\beta}_1 ([0,T]) $ almost surely for any $T>0$ and any $0<\beta < H$.\\
Denote by $\Gamma$ the Gamma-function. Recall the left-sided Riemann-Liouville fractional integral operator $I^\beta _+$ of order $\beta > 0$:
$$
(I^\beta _{0+} f)(s) = \frac{1}{\Gamma (\beta)} \int _0^sf(u) (s-u)^{\beta -1} du .
$$
The corresponding right-sided fractional integral operator $I^\beta _- $ is defined by
$$
(I^\beta _{t-}f)(s) = \frac{1}{\Gamma (\beta) }\int _s^t f(u) (u-s)^{\beta -1} du .
$$
\begin{rmk}
If $ f \in W^{\beta}_1 ([0,T])$, then its restriction to $[0,t] \subseteq [0,T]$ belongs to $I^{\beta}_{-}(L_\infty ([0,t]))$. Also, if $ f \in W^{\beta}_2 ([0,T])$, then its restriction to $[0,t] \subseteq [0,T]$ belongs to $I^{\beta}_{+}(L_1 ([0,t]))$, where $I^{\beta}_{-}(L_\infty ([0,t])) $ (resp. $I^{\beta}_{+}(L_1 ([0,t])) $) stand for the image of $ L_\infty ([0,t])$ (resp. $ L_1 ([0,t])$) by the fractional Riemann-Liouville operator $I^{\beta}_{-} $ (resp. $ I^{\beta}_{+}$).(For details we refer to \cite{s-k-m}).
\end{rmk}
\begin{defn}
Let $f:[0,T] \to \mathbb{R}$ and $0< \beta < 1$. If $ f \in I^{\beta}_{+}(L_{1} ([0,T]))$(resp. $f \in I^{\beta}_{-}(L_\infty ([0,T]))$ then the Riemann-Liouville fractional derivatives are defined using the Weyl representation as
\begin{multline*}
(D^{\beta}_{0+} f)(x)= \frac{1}{\Gamma(1-\beta)} \left( \frac{f(x)}{x^\beta} + \beta \int_{0}^{x}\frac{f(x) - f(y)}{(x-y)^{\beta + 1}}dy \right) \textbf{1} _{(0,T)}(x),\\
\left( \text{resp}.(D^{\beta}_{T^{-}} f)(x)= \frac{1}{\Gamma(1-\beta)} \left( \frac{f(x)}{(T-x)^\beta} + \beta \int_{x}^{T}\frac{f(x) - f(y)}{(y-x)^{\beta + 1}}dy \right) \textbf{1} _{(0,T)}(x)\right).
\end{multline*}
\end{defn}
For a detailed discussion, we refer to \cite{s-k-m}. The following proposition clarifies the construction of the stochastic integrals. This approach is by Nualart and Rascanu.
\begin{prop}\cite{n-r}\label{pr:n-r}
Let $ f \in W^{\beta}_2 ([0,T])$, $ g \in W^{1- \beta}_1 ([0,T])$. Then for any $t \in(0,T]$ the Lebesgue integral
\begin{center}
$\int_{0}^{t} (D^{\beta}_{0+} f)(x) (D^{1- \beta}_{t-} g_{t-} )(x) dx$
\end{center}
exists, and we can define the \textit{generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integral} by
\begin{equation*}
\int_{0}^t f dg := \int_{0}^{t} (D^{\beta}_{0+} f)(x) (D^{1- \beta}_{t-} g_{t-} )(x) dx .
\end{equation*}
\end{prop}
\begin{rmk}\label{rmk:coinside}
It is shown in \cite{z} that if $f \in C^{\gamma }([0,T]) $ and $g \in C^{\mu }([0,T])$ with $ \gamma + \mu > 1$, then the integral $ \int_{0}^{T} f dg $ exists
in the sense of the generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integral and coincides with the Riemann-Stieltjes integral.
\end{rmk}
The next theorem can be used to study the continuity of the integral.
\begin{thm}\cite{n-r}\label{t:n-r}
Let $ f \in W^{\beta}_2 [0,T]$ and $ g \in W^{1- \beta}_1 [0,T]$. Then we have the estimation
\begin{equation}
\left|\int_{0}^t f dg \right| \le \sup_{0\le s < t \le 1} \big| D^{1 - \beta}_{t^{-}} g_{t^{-}}(s) \big| \Vert f \Vert _{2,\beta} ,\quad t\in[0,T].
\end{equation}
\end{thm}
Now we can state the existence of stochastic integral with respect to fractional Brownian motion in our main result.
\begin{thm}\cite{a-m-v}\label{thm:integral}
Let $f:{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \to {\rm I\kern-0.16em R} $ be any convex function.\\
$(i)$ The stochastic integral
\begin{equation*}\label{eq:1}
\int _{0}^{1} f^{'}_{-}(B_t) dB_t
\end{equation*}
can be understood a.s. in the sense of the generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integral.\\
$(ii)$ The following Ito formula
\begin{equation*} \label{eq:Ito}
f(B_1)= f(0) + \int_{0}^{1}f^{'}_{-}(B_t) dB_t
\end{equation*}
holds, where the stochastic integral is understood in the sense of the generalized Lebesgue-Stieltjes integral.\\
$(iii)$ One can approximate the stochastic integral by Riemann-Stieltjes sums. More precisely,
\begin{equation*}
\sum_{i=1}^{n} f^{'}_{-} (B_{t^{n}_{i-1}}) (B_{t^{n}_i} - B_{t^{n}_{i-1}}) \stackrel{\text{a.s.}}{\longrightarrow} \int_{0}^{1} f^{'}_{-} (B_{t}) dB_{t}, \quad t^{n}_i=\frac{i}{n}.
\end{equation*}
\end{thm}
\subsection{ Some results related to fractional Brownian motion}
The so-called Garsia-Rademich-Rumsey inequality provides basic inequalities on increments of continuous stochastic processes. Using this inequality, one can obtain
the following lemma on the moments of supremum of fractional derivative of fractional Brownian motion.
\begin{lma}\cite{n-r}\label{l:n-r}
Let $B = \{ B_t \}_{t \in [0,1]}$ be a fractional Brownian motion with Hurst parameter $H \in (\frac{1}{2},1)$. Let $1-H < \beta < \frac{1}{2}$ and $p\ge 1$, then
\begin{equation*}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em E} \big( \sup_{0\le s < t \le 1} \big| D^{1 - \beta}_{t^{-}} B_{t^{-}}(s) \big| \ \big)^p < \infty.
\end{equation*}
\end{lma}
We continue with an useful estimate of a probability that fractional Brownian motion crosses a fixed level. It turns out that this is a main
ingredient for the proof of the main theorem. Actually the following result is an improvement of the Lemma 4 $($see \cite{c-n-t}$)$ with a better constant in terms of the
level $a$.
\begin{lma}\label{l:estimate}
Let $B = \{ B_t \}_{t \in [0,1]}$ be a fractional Brownian motion with Hurst parameter $H \in \left(\frac{1}{2},1\right)$. Fix $0 < s < t \le 1$ and $ a \in {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$.
Then there exists a constant $C$, independent of $s$, $t$ and $a$, such that the following
estimate
\begin{equation*}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em P} \big( B_t > a \ \text{and} \ B_s < a \big) \le C \ C(a) (t-s)^{H} s^{-2H}
\end{equation*}
holds.
\end{lma}
\begin{lma}\label{l:estimate_bm}
Let $W = \{ W_t \}_{t \in [0,1]}$ be a standard Brownian motion. Fix $0 < s < t \le 1$ and $ a \in {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$. Then there exists a constant $C$, independent of $s$, $t$ and
$a$, such that the following
estimate
\begin{equation*}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em P} \big( W_t > a \ \text{and} \ W_s < a \big) \le C e^{-\frac{\min\{ a^2,(a-1)^2 \} }{2}} \sqrt{\frac{t-s}{s}}
\end{equation*}
holds.
\end{lma}
The proof of the lemmas are given in Appendix A. We also use the following well-known estimate for the tail probability of standard normal random variable.
\begin{lma}
\label{standard_estimate}
Let $Z$ be a standard normal random variable and fix $a>0$. Then
\begin{equation}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\big(Z>a\big) \leq \frac{1}{\sqrt{2\pi}a}e^{-\frac{a^2}{2}}.
\end{equation}
\end{lma}
\section{Proofs}
We start with the following simple lemma. It turns out that it provides enough good upper bound.
\begin{lma}
\label{lemma_fundamental}
Let $n\geq 2$ and $\alpha\in(0,1)$. Then
\begin{equation*}
\sum_{i=1}^{n-1}\left(\frac{1}{i}\right)^\alpha \leq \frac{1}{1-\alpha}n^{1-\alpha}.
\end{equation*}
\end{lma}
\begin{proof}[Proof of theorem~\ref{main_theorem}]
Throughout the proof all constants will be denoted by $C$, and their values may differ from line to line. Random constants will be denoted by $C(\omega)$. We prove
the statement only for $r=1$. The general case follows by similar arguments (see Remark \ref{remark_general_r}). Note that
$$
S_n -S=\int_0^1 h_n(t)\mathrm{d} B_t
$$
where
\begin{equation}
\label{h_n_def}
h_n(t) = \sum_{i=1}^n \left(f'_-(B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}) - f'_-(B_t)\right) \textbf{1}_{\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]}(t).
\end{equation}
By Theorem \ref{t:n-r} and Lemma \ref{l:n-r}, there exists a random variable $C(\omega,H,\beta)$ for which all the moments exists and
\begin{equation}
\label{Nualart_1}
|S_n-S| \leq C(\omega,H,\beta)\Vert h_n\Vert_{2,\beta}
\end{equation}
for every $\beta\in(1-H,\frac{1}{2})$.
Thus by H\"{o}lder inequality, we obtain
\begin{equation}
\label{Holder}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n-S|\leq C(H,\beta,p) \left[{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}\Vert h_n\Vert_{2,\beta}^p\right]^{\frac{1}{p}}.
\end{equation}
Let now $p$ be as in (\ref{range_p}) and let $\beta\in\left(1-H,\frac{H}{p}\right)$. We proceed to compute the term $\left[{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}\Vert h_n\Vert_{2,\beta}^{p}\right]^{\frac{1}{p}}$. We have
$$
\left[{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}\Vert h_n\Vert_{2,\beta}^{p}\right]^{\frac{1}{p}} \leq
\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} J_{n}^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}} +\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} I_{n}^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}},
$$
where $J_n$ denotes the first term and $I_n$ the second term in the Besov norm $\Vert\cdot\Vert_{2,\beta}$. The rest of the proof is split
into three steps. We first prove the statement for a convex function $f(x)=(x-a)^+$, where $\ a \in {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}$. Next we prove the statement for convex functions for which the measure
$\mu$ has compact support. Finally, we prove the result for convex functions for which the assumption $\mathbf{(H_1)}$ holds.
\begin{enumerate}
\item[\textbf{Step 1.}]
The case $f(x)=(x-a)^+$.
\end{enumerate}
Now we have
\begin{equation}
\label{h_n_simple}
h^{a}_n(t) = \sum_{i=1}^n \left(\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_t< a <B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}\} }-\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}< a <B_t \} }\right)\textbf{1}_{\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]}(t).
\end{equation}
For the term $J_{n}$, we use Minkowski inequality for integrals to obtain
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} J_{n}^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}
&\leq \int_0^1 \frac{\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|h^{a}_{n}(t)|^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq \int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}\frac{ {\rm I\kern-0.16em P} (B_t> |a|) ^{1/p} }{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t \\
&+ \sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}
\frac{{\rm I\kern-0.16em P} (B_t>a>B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}) ^{1/p} +{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}(B_t<a<B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}) ^{1/p}}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
& := J_{n,1}+J_{n,2}.
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
In $J_{n,1}$, the probability can be
estimated by one, if $|a|\leq 1$, and by estimate $3.2$ if $|a|>1$. Hence the term $J_{n,1}$ can be bounded as
$$
J_{n,1} \leq C\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}\frac{1}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t
\leq C\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\beta}.
$$
For the term $J_{n,2}$, by symmetric property of fractional Brownian motion, it is sufficient to consider only the event $\{B_t < a < B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}\}$. Therefore, $J_{n,2}$ can be bounded using Lemma \ref{l:estimate} as
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
J_{n,2} & \leq C \sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}
\frac{\left(t-\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{H/p}\left(\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{-2H/p}}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C\sum_{i=2}^n\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{H/p}\left(\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{-2H/p}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}
\frac{1}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\frac{H}{p}-\beta}\sum_{i=2}^n \left(\frac{1}{i-1}\right)^{\frac{2H}{p}+\beta}.
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
Together with lemma \ref{lemma_fundamental}, this implies that
\begin{equation*}
J_{n,2} \le
\begin{cases}
C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}} & \text{ if $\alpha \in (0,1)$},\\
C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\beta - \frac{H}{p}} & \text{ if $\alpha > 1$},
\end{cases}
\end{equation*}
where $\alpha= \frac{2H}{p} + \beta$.
We proceed to study the term $I_n$. We split the integral into several
parts. Particularly, we consider the cases when $s$ and $t$ lie in the same interval and when they lie in different intervals. Note that when $s\in\left(\frac{j-1}{n},\frac{j}{n}\right]$ and $t\in\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]$ with $i\neq j$, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
&|h^{a}_n(t)-h^{a}_n(s)|\\
&=|\textbf{1}_{\{ B_t< a < B_{\frac{i-1}{n}} \} }-\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_t> a >B_{\frac{i-1}{n}} \} }
-\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_s< a < B_{\frac{j-1}{n}} \} }+\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_s> a > B_{\frac{j-1}{n}} \} }|\\
&\leq |\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_t< a < B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}\} } - \textbf{1}_{ \{B_s< a < B_{\frac{j-1}{n}} \} }|+ |\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_s>a>B_{\frac{j-1}{n}}\} } - \textbf{1}_{ \{ B_t>a>B_{\frac{i-1}{n}} \} }|\\
& := H_1(j,i) + H_2(j,i).
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
Using Minkowski inequality for integrals, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} I_{n}^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}} & \leq \int_0^1\int_0^t \frac{\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|h^{a}_n(t)-h^{a}_n(s)|^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s\mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq \int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}\int_0^t\frac{{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}(B_t> a >B_s)^{1/p}+{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}(B_t< a <B_s)^{1/p}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s\mathrm{d} t \\
&+ \sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^t
\frac{{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}(B_t> a > B_s)^{1/p}+{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}(B_t< a <B_s)^{1/p}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s\mathrm{d} t \\
&+ \sum_{i=2}^n\sum_{j=1}^{i-1}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_{\frac{j-1}{n}}^{\frac{j}{n}}\frac{\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} H_1^p(j,i)\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}+\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} H_2^p(j,i)\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
& := I_{n,1} + I_{n,2} + I_{n,3}.
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
We start with $I_{n,3}$. Note that it is enough to consider only the term $H_1(j,i)$. The term $H_2(j,i)$ can be
treated similarly. We have
\begin{equation*}
\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E} H_1^p(j,i)\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}
\leq 2 {\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_s< a < B_{\frac{j-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}
+ 2 {\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left( B_t< a < B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}.
\end{equation*}
Hence the term $I_{n,3}$ can be bounded as
\begin{equation*}
\label{I_n3}
\begin{split}
I_{n,3}&\leq C\sum_{i=2}^n\sum_{j=1}^{i-1}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_{\frac{j-1}{n}}^{\frac{j}{n}}\frac{{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_s< a <B_{\frac{j-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}
+ {\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_t< a <B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&= C\sum_{i=2}^n\sum_{j=1}^{i-1}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_{\frac{j-1}{n}}^{\frac{j}{n}}\frac{{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_s< a <B_{\frac{j-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}
}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&+ C\sum_{i=2}^n\sum_{j=1}^{i-1}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_{\frac{j-1}{n}}^{\frac{j}{n}}\frac{
{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_t< a <B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
& := I^{(1)}_{n,3} + I^{(2)}_{n,3}.
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
For the term $I^{(2)}_{n,3}$, by using Lemma \ref{l:estimate}, we obtain
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
I^{(2)}_{n,3}&\leq C\sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_0^{\frac{i-1}{n}}\frac{\left(t-\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}}\left(\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{-\frac{2H}{p}}
}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C\sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}
\left(t-\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}}\left(\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{-\frac{2H}{p}}\left(t-\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{-\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
&= C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\beta-\frac{H}{p}}
\sum_{i=2}^n\left(\frac{1}{i-1}\right)^{\frac{2H}{p}}\\
&\leq C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta}
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
where for the last inequality, we have used Lemma \ref{lemma_fundamental}. Next we consider the term $I^{(1)}_{n,3}$. In this case, we have to study the case
$j=1$ separately. Let $j=1$ in the term $I^{(1)}_{n,3}$. Then, by proceeding as for $J_{n,1}$, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
&\hspace*{-3cm} \sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}\frac{ {\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_s<a<0\right)^{1/p}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
& \leq C\sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}\frac{
1}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&= C\int_{\frac{1}{n}}^1 \left[t^{-\beta}-\left(t-\frac{1}{n}\right)^{-\beta}\right]\mathrm{d} t\\
&= C\left[\left(1-\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\beta} - 1 + \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\beta}\right]\\
&\leq C\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\beta}.
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
If $j>1$, then by changing the order of two summations and tedious manipulation, one gets
\begin{equation*}
\sum_{i=2}^n\sum_{j=2}^{i-1}\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\int_{\frac{j-1}{n}}^{\frac{j}{n}}\frac{
{\rm I\kern-0.16em P}\left(B_t< a <B_{\frac{i-1}{n}}\right)^{1/p}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t \le C \left( \frac{1}{n} \right)^{\frac{H}{p} - \beta}.
\end{equation*}
It remains to estimate the terms $I_{n,1}$ and $I_{n,2}$. For $I_{n,1}$, by using Lemma \ref{l:estimate}, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
I_{n,1}&\leq C\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}\int_0^t \frac{\left(t-s\right)^{\frac{H}{p}}s^{-\frac{2H}{p}}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&= C\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}t^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta-1}\int_0^ts^{-\frac{2H}{p}}\left(1-\frac{s}{t}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta-1}\mathrm{d} s\mathrm{d} t\\
&=C\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}t^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta}\int_0^1
(tu)^{-\frac{2H}{p}}\left(1-u\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta-1}\mathrm{d} u\mathrm{d} t\\
&= C \ B(1-\frac{2H}{p},\frac{H}{p}-\beta )\int_0^{\frac{1}{n}}t^{-\frac{H}{p}-\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
&= C \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\frac{H}{p}-\beta}
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
where $B(x,y)$ denotes the complete Beta function. For the term $I_{n,2}$, we obtain
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
I_{n,2}&\leq C\sum_{i=2}^n\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}
\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^t\frac{\left(t-s\right)^{\frac{H}{p}}s^{-\frac{2H}{p}}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C\sum_{i=2}^n \left(\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{-\frac{2H}{p}}
\int_{\frac{i-1}{n}}^{\frac{i}{n}}\left(t-\frac{i-1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta}\mathrm{d} t\\
&=C\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{1-\frac{H}{p}-\beta}
\sum_{i=2}^n\left(\frac{1}{i-1}\right)^{\frac{2H}{p}}\\
&\leq C\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta},
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
where we have used Lemma \ref{lemma_fundamental}. Finally, by collecting estimates for $J_{n,1}$, $J_{n,2}$,
$I_{n,1}$, $I_{n,2}$ and $I_{n,3}$
we obtain that for the convex function $f(x)=(x-a)^+$, there exists a constant $C=C(H,\beta,p)$ such that
\begin{equation}
\label{result_call}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n-S|\leq C \ C(a)^{\frac{1}{p}}\left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta}.
\end{equation}
\begin{enumerate}
\item[\textbf{Step 2.}]
The case $\text{supp}(\mu)$ is compact.
\end{enumerate}
It is well-known that left derivative of the convex function $f$ has the following representation
\begin{equation*}
f'_-(x)=\frac{1}{2}\int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \text{sgn}(x-a)\mu (\mathrm{d} a)
\end{equation*}
up to constant. So
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
h_n(t) &= \frac{1}{2}\sum_{i=1}^n \left(f'_-(B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}) - f'_-(B_t)\right)\textbf{1}_{\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]}(t)\\
&=\frac{1}{2}\sum_{i=1}^n \int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}\left(\text{sgn}(B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}-a) - \text{sgn}(B_t-a)\right)\mu(\mathrm{d} a)\textbf{1}_{\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]}(t)\\
&=\frac{1}{2}\int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} \sum_{i=1}^n \Big[ (\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}>a \} } -\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_t>a \} } ) - (\textbf{1}_{ \{ B_{\frac{i-1}{i}}<a \} } - \textbf{1}_{ \{ B_t<a\} } ) \Big] \textbf{1}_{\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]}(t)\mu(\mathrm{d} a)\\
&= \int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R} h_n^a(t)\mu(\mathrm{d} a).
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
From this observation, we obtain
\begin{equation}
\label{h_n_gen1}
|h_n(t)|\leq \int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}|h_n^a(t)|\mu(\mathrm{d} a)
\end{equation}
and
\begin{equation}
|h_n(t)-h_n(s)|\leq \int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}|h_n^a(t)-h_n^a(s)|\mu(\mathrm{d} a).
\end{equation}
Hence, using Tonelli's
theorem, Minkowski inequality for integrals and inequality $(\ref{h_n_gen1})$ we obtain
\begin{equation*}
\left[{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}\left(\int_0^1\frac{|h_n(t)|}{t^{\beta}}\mathrm{d} t\right)^p\right]^{\frac{1}{p}}
\leq \int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}\int_0^1 \frac{\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|h_n^a(t)|^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t\mu(\mathrm{d} a),
\end{equation*}
and
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
&\hspace*{-1cm}\left[{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}\left(\int_0^1\int_0^t\frac{|h_n(t)-h_n(s)|}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s\mathrm{d} t\right)^p\right]^{\frac{1}{p}}\\
&\leq
\int_{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}\int_0^1\int_0^t \frac{\left({\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|h_n^a(t)-h_n^a(s)|^p\right)^{\frac{1}{p}}}{(t-s)^{\beta+1}}\mathrm{d} s\mathrm{d} t\mu(\mathrm{d} a).
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
Therefore, using step 1 we can conclude that there exists a constant $C = C(H,\beta,p)$ such that
\begin{equation*}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n-S| \leq C \int_{{\rm I\kern-0.16em R}} C(a)^{\frac{1}{p}}\mu(\mathrm{d} a) \left(\frac{1}{n}\right)^{\frac{H}{p}-\beta},
\end{equation*}
where $C(a)$ is given by (\ref{constant}).
\begin{enumerate}
\item[\textbf{Step 3.}]
The general case.
\end{enumerate}
Now take any convex function $f$ which satisfies the assumption $\mathbf{(H_{1})}$. For any $k\in{\rm I\kern-0.16em N}$, define the measurable set $\Omega_k$ by
\begin{equation}
\Omega_k = \{\omega : \sup_{0\leq t\leq 1}|B_t|\in [0,k]\}
\end{equation}
and auxiliary convex functions $f_k$ by
\begin{equation}
f_k(x)=\begin{cases}
f'_-(-k)x+(f(-k)+f'_-(-k)k),&x<-k\\
f(x),& x\in[-k,k]\\
f'_+(k)x+(f(k)-f'_+(k)k),&x>k.
\end{cases}
\end{equation}
Denote by $\mu_k$ the positive Radon measure associated to the second derivative of convex function $f_k$. Then $\mu_k$ has compact support contained in $[-k,k]$.
Let $S^k$ and $S_n^k$ stand for the stochastic integral and the uniform discretization as in main theorem corresponds to the convex function $f_k$. Note that on the
set $\Omega_k$, we have $S_n^k = S_n$ and $S^k = S$ almost surely. Hence, by monotone convergence theorem, we have
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n-S| &= \lim_{k\rightarrow\infty}{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n-S|\textbf{1}_{\Omega_k}\\
&= \lim_{k\rightarrow\infty}{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n^k-S^k|\textbf{1}_{\Omega_k}\\
&\leq \lim_{k\rightarrow\infty}{\rm I\kern-0.16em E}|S_n^k-S^k|.
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
Applying step 2 and assumption $\mathbf{(H_{1})}$ completes the proof.
\end{proof}
\begin{rmk}
\label{remark_general_r}
The result for $1 < r < p $ follows with the same argument by choosing suitable parameters in H\"older inequality.
\end{rmk}
\begin{proof}[Proof of corollary \ref{main_corollary}]
We prove the result for the function $f(x)=(x-a)^+$ with some positive constant $a$. For negative $a$, we have
$(X_t - a)^+ = X_t - a$ and the result is trivial. Moreover, the result for general convex function $f$ satisfying the assumption
$\mathbf{(H_{2})}$ follows by same arguments as in the
proof of Theorem \ref{main_theorem}. Put
\begin{equation}
\label{h_n_def2}
h_n^{X,a}(t) = \sum_{i=1}^n \left(\textbf{1}_{\{X_{\frac{i-1}{n}}>a\}} - \textbf{1}_{\left\{X_t>a\right\}}\right) X_t\textbf{1}_{\left(\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}\right]}(t).
\end{equation}
Then it follows that
$$
\tilde{S}_n -\tilde{S}=\int_0^1 h_n^{X,a}(t)\mathrm{d} B_t.
$$
A simple calculation gives us
\begin{equation*}
h_n^{X,a}(t) = X_th_n^{\log a}(t)
\end{equation*}
where $h_n^{a}(t)$ is given by \ref{h_n_simple}. Hence for the first term $J_n$, we obtain
\begin{equation*}
\int_0^1 \frac{|h_n^{X,a}(t)|}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t \leq \overline{X} \int_0^1\frac{|h_n^{\log a}(t)|}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t,
\end{equation*}
where $\overline{X}=\sup_{0\leq t\leq 1}X_t$. Moreover, all moments of $\overline{X}$ are finite
$($see \cite{l}$)$. So we can replace $C(\omega,H,\beta)$
in the inequality (\ref{Nualart_1}) by a new random variable $\tilde{C}(\omega,H,\beta)=C(\omega,H,\beta)\overline{X}$.
Hence the result follows by Step 1 of the proof of Theorem \ref{main_theorem}.
Next we consider the second term $I_n$. Note that
$$
|h_n^{X,a}(t) - h_n^{X,a}(s)| \leq |h_n^{\log a}(t)|| X_t-X_s|+|X_s|| h_n^{\log a}(t)-h_n^{\log a}(t)|.
$$
For the term $|X_s||h_n^{\log a}(t)-h_n^{\log a}(t)|$, we can proceed as for $J_n$ in the proof of Theorem
\ref{main_theorem}. For the term $|h_n^{\log a}(t)||X_t-X_s|$, for any $\beta'\in(0,H-\beta)$, using the H\"{o}lder
continuity property of sample paths of $X_t$, we obtain
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
&\hspace{-1.5cm}\int_0^1\int_0^t \frac{|h_n^{\log a}(t)||X_t-X_s|}{(t-s)^{1+\beta}}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C(\omega)\int_0^1 |h_n^{\log a}(t)|\int_0^t (t-s)^{H-\beta'-\beta-1}\mathrm{d} s \mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C(\omega)\int_0^1 |h_n^{\log a}(t)|t^{H-\beta'-\beta} \mathrm{d} t\\
&\leq C(\omega)\int_0^1 \frac{|h_n^{\log a}(t)|}{t^\beta}\mathrm{d} t,
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
where $C(\omega)=C(\omega, H,\beta)$ is a positive random variable for which all moments are finite.
Hence the result follows from Theorem \ref{main_theorem}.
\end{proof}
\begin{proof}[Proof of theorem~\ref{main-thm-2}]
Since $f$ is a Lipschitz function, there exists an universal constant $L>0$ such that
\begin{equation*}
\vert f(y) - f(x)\vert \le L \vert y-x \vert, \quad \forall x,y \in {\rm I\kern-0.16em R}.
\end{equation*}
It is also known that sample paths of fractional Brownian motion are of bounded $p-$variation almost surely for any $p>\frac{1}{H}$. So, let $p,q>\frac{1}{H}$, and using
Young-Loeve estimate $($see \cite{f-v}$)$, we have for every $0 < \epsilon < H$
\begin{equation*}
\begin{split}
\vert \hat{S}_n - \hat{S} \vert & \le C \sum_{i=1}^{n} \Vert f(B)\Vert_{q-\text{var}[\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}]} \Vert B\Vert_{ p-\text{var}[\frac{i-1}{n},\frac{i}{n}]}\\
& \le C(\omega) \sum_{i=1}^{n} \left( \frac{1}{n}\right)^{2H-\epsilon}\\
& \le C(\omega) \left( \frac{1}{n}\right)^{2H-1-\epsilon}
\end{split}
\end{equation*}
for some positive random variable $C(\omega)=C(\omega,\epsilon,H,f)$ for which all the moments are finite. Now the
claim follows.
\end{proof}
\begin{proof}[Proof of theorem \ref{main-thm-bm}]
The result follows by considering the convex function $f(x)=(x-a)^+$ and applying It\'{o} isometry and lemma \ref{l:estimate_bm}.
The general case follows by the same arguments as in the proof of Theorem \ref{main_theorem} together with the assumption $\mathbf{(H_{3})}$.
The details are left to the reader.
\end{proof}
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaArXiv"
} | 8,035 |
Q: Entity Framework Core: foreign key and reference table Id column do not match I'm currently using EF Core 5 for developing. I have an existing database, so changing columns may not be a good option.
For example I got two tables:
public class CalssA
{
public long AId { get; set; }
public long TheBId { get; set; }
[Foreign("TheBId")]
public virtual ClassB B { get; set; }
}
public class ClassB
{
public long BId { get; set; }
[InverseProperty(nameof(CalssA.B))]
public virtual ICollection<ClassA> Aas {get;set;}
}
When I try to get A data with B, it seems B info is not join to the A.
var a = _AContext.As.Include(a => a.B).FirstOrDefault();
var b = a.B // get null
Is it join issue? How should I specify the column to join with EF Core?
Thanks
A: you have to add navigation properties
public class ClassA
{
[Key]
public long AId { get; set; }
public long? TheBId { get; set; }
[ForeignKey( nameOf(TheBId))]
[InverseProperty(nameOf(ClassB.Aas))]
public virtual ClassB B { get; set; }
}
public class ClassB
{
[Key]
public long BId { get; set; }
[InverseProperty(nameof(ClassA.B))]
public virtual ICollection<ClassA> Aas {get; set;} //one-to-many
}
you can try to add to dbcontext
modelBuilder.Entity<ClassA>(entity =>
{
entity.HasOne(d => d.B)
.WithMany(p => p.Aas)
.HasForeignKey(d => d.TheBId);
});
| {
"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaStackExchange"
} | 7,008 |
Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by Cornell University Digital Collections.)
THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE
Of Literature, Art, and Science.
Vol. III. NEW-YORK, JUNE 1, 1851. No. III.
HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, "FRANK FORESTER."
[Illustration]
We doubt whether the wood-engravers of this country have ever produced
a finer portrait than the above of the author of "The Brothers,"
"Cromwell," "Marmaduke Wyvil," "The Roman Traitor," "The Warwick
Woodlands," "Field Sports," "Fish and Fishing," &c., &c. It is from
one of the most successful daguerreotypes of Brady.
HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT is the eldest son of the late Hon. and Rev.
William Herbert, Dean of Manchester, and of the Hon. Letitia Allen.
His father was the second son of the second Earl of Carnarvon, who was
of the nearest younger branch of the house of Pembroke. He was a
member of Parliament in the earlier part of his life, and being a
lawyer in Doctors' Commons was largely employed on the part of
American shipmasters previous to the war of 1812. At a later period he
took orders, became Dean of Manchester, was distinguished as a
botanist, and as the author of many eminent works, especially
"Attila," an epic poem of great power and learning. He died about
three years ago. His mother was the second daughter of Joshua, second
Viscount Allen, of Kildare, Ireland,--closely connected with the house
of Leinster.
Mr. Herbert was born in London on the seventh of April, 1807; he was
educated at home under a private tutor till 1819, and then sent to a
private school near Brighton, kept by the Rev. Dr. Hooker, at which he
remained one year he was then transferred to Eton, and was at that
school from April, 1820, till the summer of 1825, when he left for the
university, and entered Caius College, Cambridge, in October. Here he
obtained two scholarships and several prizes,--though not a
hard-reading man, and spending much of his time in field sports--and
he graduated in the winter of 1829-30, with a distinguished reputation
for talents and scholarship. In November, 1831, he sailed from
Liverpool for New York, and for the last twenty years he has resided
nearly all the time in this city and at his place near Newark in New
Jersey, called the Cedars.
[Illustration]
In 1832, in connection with the late A. D. Patterson, he started _The
American Monthly Magazine_, nearly one half the matter of which was
composed by him. After the first year Mr. Patterson retired from it,
and during twelve months it was conducted by Mr. Herbert alone. On the
conclusion of the second year it was sold to Charles F. Hoffman, Mr.
Herbert continuing to act as a joint editor. At the commencement of
the fourth year Park Benjamin being associated in the editorship, it
was contemplated to introduce party politics into the work, and Mr.
Herbert in consequence declined further connection with it.
[Illustration]
By this time Mr. Herbert had made a brilliant reputation as a scholar
and as an author. In the _American Monthly_ he had printed the first
chapters of _The Brothers, a Tale of the Fronde_, and the entire novel
was published by the Harpers in 1834, and so well received that the
whole edition was sold in a few weeks. In 1836 and 1837 he edited _The
Magnolia_, the first annual ever printed in America on the system of
entire originality both of the literary matter, and of the
embellishments, which were all executed by American engravers from
American designs. A considerable portion of the matter for both years
was furnished by Mr. Herbert. In 1837 the Harpers published his second
novel, _Cromwell_, which did not sell so rapidly as _The Brothers_,
though generally praised by the reviewers. It 1840 it was reprinted by
Colburn in London, and was eminently successful. In 1843 he published
in New-York and London his third novel, _Marmaduke Wyvil, or the
Maid's Revenge_, a story of the English civil wars, and in 1848 the
most splendid of his romances, _The Roman Traitor_, founded on the
history of Cataline, a work which must be classed with the most
remarkable of those specimens of literary art in which it has been
attempted to illustrate classical scenes, characters, and manners.
In romantic fiction, besides the above works, Mr. Herbert has written
for the magazines of this country and Great Britain tales and sketches
sufficient to make twenty to thirty stout volumes. The subjects of his
best performances have been drawn from the middle ages and from
southern Europe, and they display besides very eminent capacities for
the historical novel, and a familiarity with the institutions of
chivalry and with contemporary manners hardly equaled in any writer of
the English language.
In 1839 Mr. Herbert commenced in the New-York _Turf Register_ a series
of papers, under the signature of "Frank Forester," from which have
grown _My Shooting Box, The Warwick Woodlands, Field Sports of the
United States and British Provinces_, and _Fish and Fishing in the
United States and British Provinces_--works which by the general
consent of the sporting world are second to none in their department,
in any of the qualities which should distinguish this sort of writing.
The principal distinction between these and all other sporting works
lies in this, that such works in general treat only of game in the
field and flood, and the modes of killing it, while these are in great
part natural histories, containing minute and carefully digested
accounts of every specie of game, beast, bird, and fish, compiled from
Audubon, Wilson, Giraud, Godman, Agassiz, De Kay, and other
authorities, besides long disquisitions into their habits, times of
migration, breeding, &c., from the personal observation and experience
of the author. Any person is at once enabled by them to distinguish
between any two even closely allied species, and to adopt the proper
nomenclature, with a knowledge of the reason for it. The sporting
precepts are admitted, throughout the western country especially, to
be superior to all others, as well as the papers relating to the
breaking and the kennel and field management of dogs, &c. The same may
be said of what he has written of guns and gunnery. Mr. Herbert has
hunted, shot, and fished during the last twenty years in every state
of the Union, from Maine to Maryland, south of the great lakes, and
from below Quebec to the Sault St. Marie northward of them. Not having
visited the southern or south western states, the accounts of sporting
in those regions are collected from the writings or oral
communications of their best sportsmen, and on these points much
valuable new information, especially as to the prairie shooting and
the sports of the Rocky Mountains, will be contained in the new
edition of the _Field Sports_ to appear in the coming autumn.
Besides his contributions to romantic and sporting literature, Mr.
Herbert has written largely in criticism, he has done much as a poet,
and his capacities in classical scholarship have been illustrated by
some of the finest examples of Greek and Latin translation that have
appeared in our time. In the aggregate his works would now make
scarcely less than fifty octavo volumes.
As we have intimated, the portrait at the beginning of this article is
remarkably good. Mr. Herbert is about five feet ten high, of athletic
habits, and an untiring and fast walker; fond, of course, of all field
sports, especially horsemanship and shooting, and priding himself upon
killing as much if not more game than any other gentleman in the
country out of New-York.
[Illustration]
TRENTON FALLS
[Illustration]
In a story called _Edith Linsey_, written by Mr. WILLIS, soon after he
left college, occurs the following description of Trenton Falls:
"Trenton Falls is rather a misnomer. I scarcely know what
you would call it, but the wonder of nature which bears the
name is a tremendous torrent, whose bed, for several miles,
is sunk fathoms deep into the earth--a roaring and dashing
stream, so far below the surface of the forest in which it
is lost, that you would think, as you come suddenly upon the
edge of its long precipice, that it was a river in some
inner world (coiled within ours, as we in the outer circle
of the firmament,) and laid open by some Titanic throe that
had cracked clear asunder the crust of this 'shallow earth.'
The idea is rather assisted if you happen to see below you,
on its abysmal shore, a party of adventurous travellers;
for, at that vast depth, and in contrast with the gigantic
trees and rocks, the same number of well-shaped pismires,
dressed in the last fashions, and philandering upon your
parlor floor, would be about of their apparent size and
distinctness.
"They showed me at Eleusis the well by which Proserpine
ascends to the regions of day on her annual visit to the
plains of Thessaly--but with the _genius loci_ at my elbow
in the shape of a Greek girl as lovely as Phryne, my memory
reverted to the bared axle of the earth in the bed of this
American river, and I was persuaded (looking the while at
the _feroniere_ of gold sequins on the Phidian forehead of
my Katinka) that supposing Hades in the centre of the earth,
you are nearer to it by some fathoms at Trenton. I confess I
have had, since my first descent into those depths, an
uncomfortable doubt of the solidity of the globe--how the
deuse it can hold together with such a crack in its bottom!
"It was a night to play Endymion, or do any Tomfoolery that
could be laid to the charge of the moon, for a more
omnipresent and radiant atmosphere of moonlight never
sprinkled the wilderness with silver. It was a night in
which to wish it might never be day again--a night to be
enamored of the stars, and bid God bless them like human
creatures on their bright journey--a night to love in, to
dissolve in--to do every thing but what night is made
for--sleep! Oh heaven! when I think how precious is life in
such moments; how the aroma--the celestial bloom and flower
of the soul--the yearning and fast-perishing enthusiasm of
youth--waste themselves in the solitude of such nights on
the senseless and unanswering air; when I wander alone,
unloving and unloved, beneath influences that could inspire
me with the elevation of a seraph, were I at the ear of a
human creature that could summon forth and measure my
limitless capacity of devotion--when I think this, and feel
this, and so waste my existence in vain yearnings--I could
extinguish the divine spark within me like a lamp on an
unvisited shrine, and thank Heaven for an assimilation to
the animals I walk among! And that is the substance of a
speech I made to Job as a sequitur of a well-meant remark of
his own, that 'it was a pity Edith Linsey was not there.' He
took the clause about the 'animals' to himself, and I made
an apology for the same a year after. We sometimes give our
friends, quite innocently, such terrible knocks in our
rhapsodies!
"Most people talk of the _sublimity_ of Trenton, but I have
haunted it by the week together for its mere loveliness. The
river, in the heart of that fearful chasm, is the most
varied and beautiful assemblage of the thousand forms and
shapes of running water that I know in the world. The soil
and the deep-striking roots of the forest terminate far
above you, looking like a black rim on the inclosing
precipices; the bed of the river and its sky-sustaining
walls are of solid rock, and, with the tremendous descent of
the stream--forming for miles one continuous succession of
falls and rapids--the channel is worn into curves and
cavities which throw the clear waters into forms of
inconceivable brilliancy and variety. It is a sort of half
twilight below, with here and there a long beam of sunshine
reaching down to kiss the lip of an eddy or form a rainbow
over a fall, and the reverberating and changing echoes:--
"Like a ring of bells whose sound the wind still alters,"
maintain a constant and most soothing music, varying at
every step with the varying phase of the current. Cascades
of from twenty to thirty feet, over which the river flies
with a single and hurrying leap (not a drop missing from the
glassy and bending sheet), occur frequently as you ascend;
and it is from these that the place takes its name. But the
falls, though beautiful, are only peculiar from the dazzling
and unequaled rapidity with which the waters come to the
leap. If it were not for the leaf which drops wavering down
into the abysm from trees apparently painted on the sky, and
which is caught away by the flashing current as if the
lightning had suddenly crossed it, you would think the vault
of the steadfast heavens a flying element as soon. The spot
in that long gulf of beauty that I best remember is a smooth
descent of some hundred yards, where the river in full and
undivided volume skims over a plane as polished as a table
of scagliola, looking, in its invisible speed, like one
mirror of gleaming but motionless crystal. Just above, there
is a sudden turn in the glen which sends the water like a
catapult against the opposite angle of the rock, and, in the
action of years, it has worn out a cavern of unknown depth,
into which the whole mass of the river plunges with the
abandonment of a flying fiend into hell, and, reappearing
like the angel that has pursued him, glides swiftly but with
divine serenity on its way. (I am indebted for that last
figure to Job, who travelled with a Milton in his pocket,
and had a natural redolence of 'Paradise Lost' in his
conversation.)
"Much as I detest water in small quantities (to drink), I
have a hydromania in the way of lakes, rivers, and
waterfalls. It is, by much, the _belle_ in the family of the
elements. _Earth_ is never tolerable unless disguised in
green. _Air_ is so thin as only to be visible when she
borrows drapery of water; and _Fire_ is so staringly bright
as to be unpleasant to the eyesight; but water! soft, pure,
graceful water! there is no shape into which you can throw
her that she does not seem lovelier than before. She can
borrow nothing of her sisters. Earth has no jewels in her
lap so brilliant as her own spray pearls and emeralds; Fire
has no rubies like what she steals from the sunset; Air has
no robes like the grace of her fine-woven and ever-changing
drapery of silver. A health (in wine!) to WATER!
[Illustration]
"Who is there that did not love some stream in his youth?
Who is there in whose vision of the past there does not
sparkle up, from every picture of childhood, a spring or a
rivulent woven through the darkened and torn woof of first
affections like a thread of unchanged silver? How do you
interpret the instinctive yearning with which you search for
the river-side or the fountain in every scene of nature--the
clinging unaware to the river's course when a truant in the
fields in June--the dull void you find in every landscape of
which it is not the ornament and the centre? For myself, I
hold with the Greek: "Water is the first principle of all
things: we were made from it and we shall be resolved into
it.""
[Illustration]
Of subsequent visits to this loveliest of spots, years after, Mr.
Willis has given descriptions in letters addressed to General Morris
for publication in the _Home Journal_, and we are soon to have from
Putnam in a beautiful volume all that he has written on the subject,
together with notices of the manner in which he enjoyed himself at Mr.
Moore's delightful hotel at the Falls, which is represented as
farthest of all summer resorts from the turmoil of the world and
nearest of all to the gates of Paradise. We borrow from these letters
a few characteristic and tempting paragraphs:
"I was here twenty years ago, but the fairest things slip
easiest out of the memory, and I had half forgotten Trenton.
To tell the truth, I was a little ashamed, to compare the
faded and shabby picture of it in my mind with the reality
before me, and if the waters of the Falls had been, by any
likelihood, the same that flowed over when I was here
before, I should have looked them in the face, I think, with
something of the embarrassment with which one meets,
half-rememberingly, after years of separation, the ladies
one has vowed to love for ever.
"The peculiarity of Trenton Falls, I fancy, consists a good
deal in the space in which you are compelled to see them.
You walk a few steps from the hotel through the wood, and
come to a descending staircase of a hundred steps, the
different bends of which are so over-grown with wild
shrubbery, that you cannot see the ravine till you are
fairly down upon its rocky floor. Your path hence, up to the
first Fall, is along a ledge cut out of the base of the
cliff that overhangs the torrent, and when you go to the
foot of the descending sheet, you find yourself in very
close quarters with a cataract--rocky walls all round
you--and the appreciation of power and magnitude, perhaps,
somewhat heightened by the confinement of the place--as a
man would have a much more realizing sense of a live lion,
shut up with him in a basement parlor, than he would of the
same object, seen from an elevated and distant point of
view.
"The usual walk (through this deep cave open at the top) is
about half a mile in length, and its almost subterranean
river, in that distance, plunges over four precipices in
exceedingly beautiful cascades. On the successive rocky
terraces between the falls, the torrent takes every variety
of rapids and whirlpools, and, perhaps, in all the scenery
of the world, there is no river, which, in the same space,
presents so many of the various shapes and beauties of
running and falling water. The Indian name of the stream
(the Kanata, which means the _amber river_) expresses one of
its peculiarities, and, probably from the depth of shade
cast by the two dark and overhanging walls 'twixt which it
flows, the water is everywhere of a peculiarly rich lustre
and color, and, in the edges of one or two of the cascades,
as yellow as gold. Artists, in drawing this river, fail,
somehow, in giving the impression of _deep-down-itude_ which
is produced by the close approach of the two lofty walls of
rock, capped by the overleaning woods, and with the sky
apparently resting, like a ceiling, upon the leafy
architraves.... If there were truly, as the poets say
figuratively, "worlds _within_ worlds," this would look as
if an earthquake had cracked open the outer globe, and
exposed, through the yawning fissure, one of the rivers of
the globe below--the usual underground level of "down among
the dead men," being, as you walk upon its banks, between
you and the daylight.
"Considering the amount of surprise and pleasure which one
feels in a walk up the ravine at Trenton, it is remarkable
how little one finds to say about it, the day after. Is it
that mere scenery, without history, is enjoyable without
being suggestive, or, amid the tumult of the rushing torrent
at one's feet, is the milk of thought too much agitated for
the cream to rise? I fancied yesterday, as I rested on the
softest rock I could find at the upper end of the ravine,
that I should tumble you out a letter to-day, with ideas
pitching forth like saw-logs over a waterfall; but my memory
has nothing in it to-day but the rocks and rapids it took
in--the talent wrapped in its napkin of delight remaining in
unimproved _statu-quo_-sity. One certainly gets the
impression, while the sight and hearing are so overwhelmed,
that one's mind is famously at work, and that we shall hear
from it to-morrow; but it is Jean Paul, I think, who says
that 'the mill makes the most noise when there is no grist
in the hopper.'
"We have had the full of the moon and a cloudless sky for
the last two or three nights, and of course we have walked
the ravine till the 'small hours,' seeing with wonder the
transforming effects of moonlight and its black shadows on
the falls and precipices. I have no idea (you will be glad
to know) of trying to reproduce these sublimities on
paper--at least not with my travelling stock of verbs and
adjectives. To 'sandwich the moon in a muffin,' one must
have time and a ladder of dictionaries. But one or two
effects struck me which perhaps are worth briefly naming,
and I will throw into the lot a poetical figure, which you
may use in your next song....
"The fourth Fall, (or the one that is flanked by the ruins
of a saw-mill) is, perhaps, a hundred feet across; and its
curve over the upper rock and its break upon the lower one,
form two parallel lines, the water everywhere falling the
same distance with the evenness of an artificial cascade.
The stream not being very full, just now, it came over, in
twenty or thirty places, thicker than elsewhere; and the
effect, from a distance, as the moonlight lay full upon it,
was that of twenty or thirty immovable marble columns
connected by transparent curtains of falling lace, and with
bases in imitation of foam. Now it struck me that this might
suggest a new and fanciful order of architecture, suitable
at least to the structure of green-houses, the glass roofs
of which are curved over and <DW72> to the ground with very
much the contour of a waterfall....
"Subterranean as this foaming river looks by day, it looks
like a river in cloud-land by night. The side of the ravine
which is in shadow, is one undistinguishable mass of black,
with its wavy upper edge in strong relief against the sky,
and, as the foaming stream catches the light from the
opposite and moonlit side, it is outlined distinctly on its
bed of darkness, and seems winding its way between hills of
clouds, half black, half luminous. Below, where all is deep
shadow except the river, you might fancy it a silver mine
laid open to your view amid subterranean darkness by the
wand of an enchanter, or (if you prefer a military trope, my
dear General), a long white plume laid lengthwise between
the ridges of a cocked hat."
[Illustration]
NEW PROOF OF THE EARTH'S ROTATION.
"The earth does move, notwithstanding," whispered Galileo, leaving the
dungeon of the Inquisition: by which he meant his friends to
understand, that if the earth did move, the fact would remain so in
spite of his punishment. But a less orthodox assembly than the
conclave of Cardinals might have been staggered by the novelty of the
new philosophy. According to Laplace, the apparent diurnal phenomena
of the heavens would be the same either from the revolution of the sun
or the earth; and more than one reason made strongly in favor of the
prevalent opinion that the earth, not the sun, was stationary. First,
it was most agreeable to the impression of the senses; and next, to
disbelieve in the fixity of the solid globe, was not only to eject
from its pride of place our little planet, but to disturb the
long-cherished sentiment that we ourselves are the centre--the be-all
and end-all of the universe. However, the truth will out; and this is
its great distinction from error, that while every new discovery adds
to its strength, falsehood is weakened and at last driven from the
field. That the earth revolves round the sun, and rotates on its polar
axis, have long been the settled canons of our system. But the
rotation of the earth has been rendered _visible_ by a practical
demonstration, which has drawn much attention in Paris and London, and
is beginning to excite interest in this country. The inventor is M.
Foucault; and the following description has been given of the mode of
proof:
"At the centre of the dome of the Pantheon a fine wire is
attached, from which a sphere of metal, four or five inches
in diameter, is suspended so as to hang near the floor of
the building. This apparatus is put in vibration after the
manner of a pendulum. Under and concentrical with it is
placed a circular table, some twenty feet in diameter, the
circumference of which is divided into degrees, minutes,
&c., and the divisions numbered. Now, supposing the earth to
have the diurnal motion imputed to it, and which explains
the phenomena of day and night, the plane in which this
pendulum vibrates will not be affected by this motion, but
the table, over which the pendulum is suspended, will
continually change its position, in virtue of the diurnal
motion, so as to make a complete revolution round its
centre. Since, then, the table thus revolves, and the
pendulum which vibrates over it does not revolve, the
consequence is, that a line traced upon the table by a point
projecting from the bottom of the ball will change its
direction relatively to the table from minute to minute and
from hour to hour, so that if such point were a pencil, and
that paper were spread upon the table, the course formed by
this pencil would form a system of lines radiating from the
centre of the table. The practised eye of a correct
observer, especially if aided by a proper optical
instrument, may actually see the motion which the table has
in common with the earth, under the pendulum between two
successive vibrations. It is, in fact, apparent that the
ball, or rather the point attached to the bottom of the
ball, does not return precisely to the same point of the
circumference of the table after two successive vibrations.
Thus is rendered visible the motion which the table has in
common with the earth."
Crowds are said to flock daily to the Pantheon to witness this
interesting experiment. It has been successfully repeated by Professor
Ansted at the Russell Institution, in London, in a manner similar to
the experiment at the Pantheon at Paris. The wire, which suspended a
weight of twenty-eight pounds, was of the size of the middle C-string
of a piano. It was thirty feet long, and vibrated over a graduated
table fixed to the floor. The rotation of the table, implying that of
the earth on which it rested, was visible in about five minutes, and
the wonderful spectacle was presented of the rotation of the room
round the pendulum. The experiment excited the astonishment of every
beholder, and many eminent scientific gentlemen who were present
expressed their great delight in witnessing a phenomenon which they
considered the most satisfactory they had witnessed in the whole
course of their lives.
Although nothing, to minds capable of comprehending it, can add to the
force or clearness of the demonstration by which the rotation of the
earth has been established, yet even the natural philosopher himself
cannot regard the present experiment without feelings of profound
interest and satisfaction; and to the great mass, to whom the
complicated physical phenomena by which the rotation of the earth has
been established are incomprehensible, M. Foucault's very ingenious
illustration is invaluable.
A correspondent of the Newark _Daily Advertiser_ appears to have
anticipated the experiment of M. Foucault, suspending a fifty-six
pound weight by a small wire from the rafters of a barn. But however
simple and conclusive the illustration, it should be attempted only by
scientific men. Professor Sylvester, writing to the _Times_, of
experiments made in London, says:
"The experiments connected with the practical demonstration
of the phenomenon require to be conducted with great care;
and some discredit has been brought upon attempts to
illustrate it in England by persons who have not taken the
necessary precautions to protect the motion from the
excentric deviation to which it is liable, and which may,
and indeed must, have the effect of causing, in some cases,
an apparent failure, and in others a still more unfortunate,
because fallacious, success. I believe, from the character
of the persons connected with the experiments, that the true
phenomenon has been accurately produced and observed in
Paris. I doubt whether as much can be said, with entire
confidence, of any of the experiments hitherto performed
here in London.
"Any want of symmetry in the arrangements for the suspension
of the wire, or in the centering of the weight, exposure to
currents of air, or the tremulous motion occasioned by the
passage of vehicles, may operate to cause a phenomenon to
be brought about curious enough in itself, as a result of
mathematical laws, but quite different from that supposed.
The phenomenon of the progression of the apsides of an oval
orbit, which is here alluded to, is familiar to all students
in mechanics.
"It is perfectly absurd for persons unacquainted with
mechanical and geometrical science to presume to make the
experiment. Indeed, such efforts deserve rather the name of
conjuring than of experiment; but in this, as in many other
matters of life, it is true that "fools rush in where angels
fear to tread." Perhaps the too hasty rush at the
experimental verification of Foucault's law may account for
some persons in England, whose opinions when given with due
deliberation are entitled to respect, having allowed
themselves to express doubts (which I understand, however,
have been since retracted) as to the truth of the law
itself. In Paris there was no difference of opinion among
such men as Lame, Poinsol, Binet, Leonville, Sturm, Chasles,
Bruvues, I believe Arago, Hermite, and many others with whom
I conversed on the subject, except as to the best mode of
making the theory popularly intelligible."
Explanations will be necessary from lecturers and others who give
imitations of M. Foucault's ingenuity to render it intelligible to
those unacquainted with mathematics, or with the laws of gravity and
spherical motion. For instance, it will not be readily understood by
every one why the pendulum should vibrate in the same plane, and not
partake of the earth's rotation in common with the table; but this
could be _shown_ with a bullet suspended by a silkworm's thread. Next,
the apparent horizontal revolution of the table round its centre will
be incomprehensible to many, as representative of its own and the
earth's motion round its axis.
Doubtless we shall soon have public exhibitions of the demonstration
in all our cities.
The pendulum is indeed an extraordinary instrument, and has been a
useful handmaid to science. We are familiar with it as the
time-regulator of our clocks, and the ease with which they may be made
to go faster or slower by adjusting its length. But neither this nor
the Pantheon elucidation constitutes its sole application. By it the
latitude may be approximately ascertained, the density of the earth's
strata in different places, and its elliptical eccentricity of figure.
The noble Florentine already quoted was its inventor; and it is
related of Galileo, while a boy, that he was the first to observe how
the height of the vaulted roof of a church might be measured by the
times of the vibration of the chandeliers suspended at different
altitudes. Were the earth perforated from London to our antipodes, and
the air exhausted, a ball dropped through would at the centre acquire
a velocity sufficient to carry it to the opposite side, whence it
would again descend, and so oscillate forward and backwards from one
side of the globe's surface to the other in the manner of a pendulum.
Very likely, the Cardinals of the Vatican would deem this heresy, or
"flat blasphemy."
[Illustration]
THE BUTCHERS' LEAP AT MUNICH.
A correspondent of the London _Athenaeum_, writing from Munich, gives
the following account of the festival of the Butchers' Leap in the
Fountain: "This strange ceremonial, like the _Schaeffler Tanz_, is said
to have its origin in the time of the plague. While the Coopers danced
with garlands and music through the streets, the Butchers sprang into
the fountain in the market-place, to show their fellow-citizens that
its water was no longer to be dreaded as poisoned. Perhaps they were
the Sanitary Commissioners of those days; and by bathing themselves in
the water and dashing it about on the crowd would teach the true means
of putting pestilence to flight.
"Though the Coopers' Dance takes place only once in seven
years, the Butchers' Leap occurs annually, and always on
_Fasching Montag_,--the Monday before Shrove Tuesday. I
believe the ceremony is of great importance to the trade of
the Butchers; as certain privileges granted to them are
annually renewed at this time, and in connection with the
Leap. These two ceremonies--of the Coopers' Dance and the
Butchers' Leap--are now almost the last remains of the
picturesque and quaint customs of old Munich.
"The Butchers commence proceedings by attending High Mass in
St. Peter's Church,--close to the Schrannien Platz, or
market-place, in which the fountain is situated. It is a
desolate-looking church, this St. Peter's, as seen from
without,--old, decaying, and ugly; within, tawdry
and--though not desolate and decaying--ugly. From staringly
white walls frown down on the spectator torture-pictures,
alternating with huge gilt images of sentimental saints in
clumsy drapery. The altars are masses of golden clouds and
golden cherubs.
"Music, as from the orchestra of a theatre rather than from
the choir of a church, greeted us as we entered. The
Butchers were just passing out. We caught glimpses of
scarlet coats; and saw two huge silver flagons, covered with
a very panoply of gold and silver medals, borne aloft by
pompous officials clothed in scarlet. Having watched the
procession--some half-dozen tiny butchers' sons, urchins of
five and six years old, with rosy, round faces and chubby
hands, mounted on stalwart horses and dressed in little
scarlet coats, top-boots, and jaunty green velvet
hats--seven butchers' apprentices, the Leapers of the day,
also dressed in scarlet and mounted on horseback--the
musicians,--the long train of master-butchers and journeymen
in long dark cloaks and with huge nosegays in their
hats--and the scarlet officials bearing the decorated
flagons,--having watched, I say, all these good folk wend
their way in long procession up the narrow street leading
from the church, and seen them cross the market-place in the
direction of the Palace, where they are awaited by the
King,--let us look around, and notice the features of the
market-place:--for it is, in fact, a quaint old bit of the
city, and well worth a glimpse.
"If I love the Ludwig Strasse as the most beautiful portion
of the new Munich, I almost equally love the Schrannien
Platz as about the quaintest part of old Munich. It is long
and narrow as a market-place, but wide as a street. The
houses are old; many of them very handsome, and rich with
ornamental stucco-work,--
'All garlanded with carven imageries
Of fruit and flowers and bunches of knot-grass.'
The roofs are steep, red tiled, and perforated with rows of
little pent-house windows. The fronts of the houses are of
all imaginable pale tints,--stone colors, pinks, greens,
greys, and tawnies. Three of the four corners of the
market-place are adorned with tall pepper-box towers, with
domed roofs and innumerable narrow windows. At one end is
the fountain; and in the centre a heavy, but quaint
shrine,--a column supporting a gilt figure of the Madonna.
The eye wanders down various picturesque streets which open
into the market-place; and on one hand, above steep roofs,
gaze down the two striking red-brick towers of the _Frauen
Kirche_--the cathedral of Munich:--those two red towers
which are seen in all views of this city, and which belong
as much to Munich as the dome of St. Paul's does to the city
of London,--those towers which in the haze of sunset are
frequently transformed into violet-tinted columns, or about
which in autumn and winter mists cling with a strange
dreariness as if they were desolate mountain peaks!
"But the quaintest feature of all in the Schrannien Platz is
a sort of arcade which runs around it. Here, beneath the low
and massy arches, are crowded thick upon each other a host
of small shops. What queer, dark little cells they are,--yet
how picturesque! Here is a dealer in crucifixes,--next to
him a woollen-draper, displaying bright striped woollen
goods for the peasants,--then a general dealer, with heaps
and bundles and tubs and chests containing every thing most
heterogeneous,--and next to him a dealer in pipes. There are
bustle and gloom always beneath these heavy low arches,--but
they present a glorious bit of picturesque life. There are
queer wooden booths, too, along one portion of the
Schrannien Platz where it rather narrows, losing its
character of market-place, and descending to that of an
ordinary street. But the booths do not degenerate in their
picturesque character. The earthenware booths--of which
there are several--are truly delicious. Such rows and piles
of dark green, orange, ruddy chocolate-brown, sea-green,
pale yellow, and deep blue and grey vessels of all forms and
sizes--all quaint, all odd--jugs, flagons, pipkins, queer
pots with huge lids, queer tripods for which I know no
name--things which always seem to me to come out of a
witch's kitchen, but by means of which I suspect that my own
dinner is cooked every day. All these heaps of crockery lie
about the doors, and load the windows of the wooden booths,
and line shelves and shelves within the gloom of the little
shops themselves. When I first came here these old crockery
shops were a more frequent study to me than any thing else
in the old town.
"We ascended a steep, narrow staircase leading out of this
arcade into one of the houses above it, from which we were
to witness the leaping into the fountain. I looked out of
the window on the crowd that began to collect around the
fountain, and noticed the tall roofs and handsome fronts of
the houses opposite, and the crowd of pigeons--scores and
scores of pigeons--assembled just opposite the fountain on
the edge of the steep roof which rose like a red hill-side
behind them. They seemed solemnly met to witness the great
festivities about to be celebrated, and sat in silent
expectation brooding in the sunshine. Then, I wondered what
attraction the icy water could have for the children who
leaned over the fountain's side--dabbling in the water as
though it had been midsummer. The crowd increased and
increased; and seven new white buckets were brought and
placed on a broad plank which extended across one side of
the fountain basin.
"A shout from the crowd announced the arrival of the
Butchers. First of all came the tender Butcher-infants, in
scarlet coats, top-boots, and green velvet hats, borne in
the arms of their fathers through the crowd in order that
they might witness the fun. Then followed the scarlet
officials:--and then came seven of the queerest beasts man
ever set eyes on. What were they, if human? Were they seven
Esquimaux chiefs, or seven African mumbo-jumbos? They were
the heroes of the day--the seven Butcher-apprentices,
clothed in fur caps and garments--covered from shoulder to
heel with hundreds of dangling calves' tails--red, white,
black, dun!
"You may imagine the shouts that greeted them,--the peels of
laughter. Up they sprang on the broad plank,--leaping,
dancing, making their tails fly round like trundled mops.
The crowd roared with laughter. A stately scarlet
official--a butcher (_Altgesell_)--stands beside them on the
plank. Ten times they drink the health of the royal family
and prosperity to the butchers' craft. The _Altgesell_ then
striking many blows on the shoulder of the nearest
apprentice, frees him and all the remaining six from their
indentures. They are henceforth full-grown butchers. Then,
they plunge into the very centre of the fountain with a
tremendous splash. The crowd shout,--the startled pigeons
wheel in wild alarm above the heads and laughter of the
crowd. The seven Tritons dash torrents of water on the
multitude,--who fly shrieking and laughing before the
deluge. The seven buckets are plied with untiring
arms;--lads are enticed within aim by showers of nuts flung
by the 'Leapers,' and then are drenched to the skin. It is a
bewilderment of water, flying calves' tails, pelting nuts,
and shrieking urchins.
"The 'Leapers' then ascend out of their bath,--shake
themselves like shaggy dogs,--have white cloths pinned round
their necks as though they were going to be shaved,--and
have very grand medals hung round their necks suspended by
gaudy ribbons.
"The procession retires across the market-place to its
'_Herberge_,' and the crowd disperses,--but disperses only
to re-assemble in various public-houses for the merriment of
the afternoon and night. That night and the next day are
'the maddest, merriest of all the year.' Music is every
where--dancing every where. It is the end of the Carnival.
Ash Wednesday comes,--and then, all is gloom."
NEGLECT OF THE PRESERVATION OF EGYPTIAN ANTIQUITIES.
A writer in the London _Athenaeum_, writing from Alexandria, endeavors
to convince those who profess an interest in Egyptian antiquities,
that if their present neglect continues, nothing will remain of the
stupendous relics now lying over the land, but a quantity of
pulverized fragments. The colossal statue at Memphis, said to belong
to the British Museum, for years depended on the precarious protection
of an old Arab woman, who was continually expecting and claiming a
small salary of five or six pounds per annum as guardian. She received
about so much from a variety of consuls, for a time, but the payment
was at last discontinued, and, from what was told her, she based her
hopes on the learned or the powerful in England. "But the learned and
the powerful never, I suppose," says the writer, "heard of her, and
she died, leaving the statue in charge of her son, who, in his turn,
seems to live in hope. There is little prospect of his getting any
thing, however; and very probably, in spite of his unrewarded zeal,
the magnificent statue--by far the finest in Egypt--will ere long be
burnt for lime. The neighboring pyramid of Dashour is being, as I have
already said, worked as a quarry, and I shall be very much surprised
if this handy block of stone escape notice." He suggests the formation
of a committee, consisting of the principal consuls and residents in
Egypt, to watch over the preservation of the monuments of the country,
and to be supplied, by governments or by the voluntary contributions
of the learned, with the funds necessary to pay guardians and
inspectors.
A very valuable museum of Egyptian antiquities we believe is now on
the way to the United States; but it embraces no such great works as
have been transported to Rome and Paris. Is it not worth while for the
New-York merchants to set up in Union or Washington Square, the great
statue of Memphis?
Or it would not be altogether inappropriate for the Smithsonian
Institution to have it imported into Washington. How much the
diffusion of "knowledge" would be promoted by such a movement it is
not easy to say: but a figure of this kind on Capitol Hill would have
such an effect on our eloquence! and our juvenile poets could go there
and in its shade invoke the presence of twenty centuries.
HENRY ROWE SCHOOLCRAFT.
[Illustration]
Mr. Schoolcraft is of English descent by the paternal side, his
great-grandfather having come from England during the wars of Queen
Anne, and settled in what is now Schoharie county in New-York, where
in old age he taught the first English school in that part of the
country, from which circumstance his name was not unnaturally changed
by the usage of the people from Calcraft to Schoolcraft. Our author
recently attempted in his own person to revive the old family name,
but soon abandoned it, and concluded to retain that which was begotten
upon his native soil, and by which he has long been so honorably
distinguished. He is a son of Colonel Lawrence Schoolcraft, who joined
the revolutionary army at seventeen years of age, and participated in
the movements under Montgomery and Schuyler, and the memorable defence
of Fort Stanwix under Gansevoort. He was born in Guilderland, near
Albany, on the twenty-eighth of March, 1793. In a secluded part of the
country, where there were few advantages for education, and scarce any
persons who thought of literature, he had an ardent love of knowledge,
and sat at home with his books and pencils while his equals in age
were at cock-fights and horse-races, for which Guilderland was then
famous. He is still remembered by some of the octogenarians of the
village as the "learned boy." At thirteen he drew subjects in natural
history, and landscapes, which attracted the attention of the late
Lieutenant-Governor Van Rensselaer, then a frequent visitor of his
father, through whose agency he came near being apprenticed to one
Ames, the only portrait-painter at that time in Albany; but as it was
demanded that he should commence with house-painting the plan was
finally abandoned. At fourteen he began to contribute pieces in prose
and verse to the newspapers, and for several years after he pursued
without aid the study of natural history, English literature, Hebrew,
German, and French, and the philosophy of language.
Mr. Schoolcraft's first work was an elaborate treatise, but partially
known to the public, entitled Vitreology, which was published in 1817.
The design of it was to exhibit the application of chemistry to the
arts in the fusion of siliceous and alkaline substances in the
production of enamels, glass, etc. He had had opportunities of
experimenting largely and freely by his position as conductor for a
series of years of the extensive works of the Ontario Company at
Geneva in New-York, the Vermont Company at Middlebury and Salisbury in
Vermont, and the foundry of crystal glass at Keene in New Hampshire.
In 1818, and the following year, he made a geological survey of
Missouri and Arkansas to the spurs of the Rocky Mountains, and in the
fall of 1819 published in New-York his View of the Lead Mines of
Missouri, which is said by Professor Silliman to have been "the only
elaborate and detailed account of a mining district in the United
States" which had then appeared. It attracted much attention, and
procured for the author the friendship of many eminent men. In the
same year he printed Transallegania, a poetical _jeu d'esprit_ of
which mineralogy is the subject, and which preceded some clever
English attempts in the same vein. It was republished in London by Sir
Richard Phillips in the next year.
Early in 1820 he published a Journal of a Tour in the Interior of
Missouri and Arkansas, extending from Potosi toward the Rocky
Mountains. His writings having attracted the notice of the government,
he was commissioned by Mr. Calhoun, then Secretary of War, to visit
the copper region of Lake Superior, and to accompany General Cass in
his expedition to the head waters of the Mississippi. His Narrative
Journal of this tour was published in 1821, and was eminently
successful, an edition of twelve hundred copies being sold in a few
weeks. In the same year he was appointed secretary to the commission
for treating with the Indian tribes at Chicago, and on the conclusion
of his labors published his sixth work, entitled Travels in the
Central Portions of the Mississippi Valley, in which he described the
country between the regions of which he had given an account in his
previous works. His reputation was now widely and firmly established
as an explorer, and as a man of science and letters. From this time
his attention was devoted principally to the Red Race, though he still
cultivated natural history, and wrote occasionally for the reviews and
magazines.
In 1822 he was appointed by President Monroe agent for Indian Affairs,
to reside at St. Mary's, at the foot of Lake Superior. In the years
1825, 1826, and 1827, he attended the important convocations of the
north-west tribes at Prairie du Chien, Pont du Lac, and Buttes des
Morts. In 1831 he was sent on a special embassy, accompanied by
troops, to conciliate the Sioux and Ojibwas, and bring the existing
war between them to a close. In 1832 he proceeded in the same capacity
to the tribes near the head waters of the Mississippi, and availed
himself of the opportunity to trace that river, in small canoes, from
the point where Pike stopped in 1807 and Cass in 1820 to its true
source in Itasca Lake, upon which he entered on the thirteenth of
July, the one hundred and forty-ninth anniversary of the discovery of
the mouth of the river by La Salle. His account of this tour was
published in New-York in 1834, under the title of An Expedition to
Itasca Lake, and attracted much attention in all parts of the country.
From 1827 to 1831 Mr. Schoolcraft was a member of the legislative
council of Michigan. In 1828 he organized the Michigan Historical
Society, in which he was elected president, on the removal of General
Cass to Washington, in 1831. In the fall of the same year he set on
foot the Algic Society at Detroit, before which he delivered a course
of lectures on the grammatical construction of the Indian
languages,[1] and at its first anniversary a poem on The Indian
Character. Guided by patriotism and good taste, he took a successful
stand in the west against the absurd nomenclature which has elsewhere
made such confusion in geography by repeating over and over the names
of European places and characters, giving us Romes, Berlins, and
Londons in the wilderness, and Hannibals, Scipios, Homers, and
Hectors, wherever there was sufficient learning to make its possessors
ridiculous. He submitted to the legislature of the territory a system
of county and township names based upon the Indian vocabularies with
which he was familiar, and happily secured its general adoption.
At Sault Ste. Marie Mr. Schoolcraft became acquainted with Mr. John
Johnston, a gentleman from the north of Ireland, who had long resided
there, and in the person of his eldest daughter married a descendant
of the hereditary chief of Lake Superior, or Lake Algoma, as it is
known to the Indians. She had been educated in Europe, and was an
accomplished and highly interesting woman. After a residence there of
eleven years he removed to Michilimackinac, and assumed the joint
agency of the two districts. In 1836 he was appointed by President
Jackson a commissioner to treat with the north-west tribes for their
lands in the region of the upper lakes, and succeeded in effecting a
cession to the United States of some sixteen millions of acres. In the
same year he was appointed acting Superintendent of Indian Affairs for
the Northern Department, and in 1839 principal disbursing agent for
the same district.
In the last mentioned year he published two volumes of Algic
Researches, comprising Indian Tales and Legends, and soon after,
having passed more than twenty years as a traveller or resident on the
frontiers, he removed to the city of New-York, intending to prepare
for the press the great mass of his original papers which he had
accumulated in this long period. In 1841 he issued proposals for an
Indian Cyclopedia, geographical, historical, philological, etc., of
which only one number was printed, no publisher appearing willing to
undertake so costly and extensive a work of such a description. In
1842 he visited England, France, Germany, Prussia, and Holland. During
his absence his wife died, at Dundee, in Canada West, where she was
visiting her sister. Soon after his return he made another journey to
the west, to examine some of the great mounds, respecting which he has
since communicated a paper to the Royal Geographical Society of
Denmark, of which he was many years ago elected an honorary member,
and soon after published a collection of his poetical writings, under
the title of Alhalla, or the Lord of Talladega, a Tale of the Creek
War, with some miscellanies, chiefly of early date. In 1844 he
commenced in numbers the publication of Oneota, or the Red Race in
America, their History, Traditions, Customs, Poetry, Picture Writing,
etc., in extracts from Notes, Journals, and other unpublished
writings, of which one octavo volume has been completed. In 1845 he
delivered an address before a society known as the "Was-ah
Ho-de-no-sonne, or New Confederacy of the Iroquois," and published
Observations on the Grave Creek Mound in Western Virginia, in the
Transactions of the American Ethnological Society; and early in the
following year presented in the form of a Report to the legislature of
his native state, his Notes on the Iroquois, or Contributions to the
Statistics, Aboriginal History, and General Ethnology of Western
New-York.
The last and most important of Mr. Schoolcraft's works, the crowning
labor of his life, for the composition of which all his previous
efforts were but notes of preparation, is the Historical and
Statistical Information respecting the History, Condition, and
Prospects of the Indian Tribes of the United States: Collected and
prepared under the Direction of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, per act
of March 3, 1847. The initial volume of this important national
publication, profusely illustrated with engravings from drawings by
Captain Eastman, of the Army, has lately been issued in a very large
and splendid quarto, by Lippincott. Grambo & Co., of Philadelphia,
under authority of Congress. It embraces the general, national, and
tribal history of the Indian race, with their traditions, manners,
customs, languages, mythology, &c., and when completed will probably
extend to six or seven volumes. Until more of it is published, it will
not be possible to form any exact judgment of it, except such as is
warranted by a knowledge of the author's previous works: but such a
judgment must be in the highest degree favorable.
Mr. Schoolcraft's ethnological writings are among the most important
contributions that have been made to the literature of this country.
His long and intimate connection with the Indian tribes, and the
knowledge possessed by his wife and her family of the people from whom
they were descended by the maternal side, with his power of examining
their character from the European point of view, have enabled him to
give us more authentic and valuable information respecting their
manners, customs, and physical traits, and more insight into their
moral and intellectual constitution, than can be derived, perhaps,
from all other authors. His works abound in materials for the future
artist and man of letters, and will on this account continue to be
read when the greater portion of the popular literature of the day is
forgotten. With the forests which they inhabited, the red race have
disappeared with astonishing rapidity. Until recently they have rarely
been the subjects of intelligent study; and it began to be regretted,
as they were seen fading from our sight, that there was so little
written respecting them that had any pretensions to fidelity. I would
not be understood to undervalue the productions of Eliot, Loskiel,
Heckewelder, Brainerd, and other early missionaries, but they were
restricted in design, and it is not to be denied that confidence in
their representations has been much impaired, less perhaps from doubts
of their integrity than of their ability and of the advantages of the
points of view from which they made their observations. The works on
Indian philology by Roger Williams and the younger Edwards are more
valuable than any others of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
but it now appears that these authors knew very little of the
philosophy of the American language. Du Ponceau's knowledge was still
more superficial, and excepting Mr. Gallatin and the late Mr.
Pickering, who made use of the imperfect data furnished by others, I
believe no one besides Mr. Schoolcraft has recently produced any thing
on the subject worthy of consideration. Something has been done by
General Cass, and Mr. McKenny and Mr. Catlin have undoubtedly
accomplished much in this department of ethnography; but allowing all
that can reasonably be claimed for these artist-travellers, Mr.
Schoolcraft must still be regarded as the standard and chief authority
respecting the Algic tribes.
The influence which the original and peculiar myths and historical
traditions of the Indians is to have on our imaginative literature,
has been recently more than ever exhibited in the works of our
authors. The tendency of the public taste to avail itself of the
American mythology as a basis for the exhibition of "new lines of
fictitious creations" has been remarked by Mr. Schoolcraft himself in
Oneota, and he refers to the tales of Mrs. Oakes Smith, and to the
Wild Scenes in the Forest and the Prairie, and the Vigil of Faith, by
Mr. Charles F. Hoffman, as works in which this tendency is most
distinctly perceptible. In the writings of W. H. C. Hosmer, the
legends of Mr. Whittier, and some of the poems of Mr. Longfellow and
Mr. Lowell, we see manifestations of the same disposition.
No one who has not had the most ample opportunities of personal
observation should attempt to mould Indian life and mythology to the
purposes of fiction without carefully studying whatever Mr.
Schoolcraft has published respecting them. The chief distinction of
the Algic style with which he has made us acquainted is its wonderful
simplicity and conciseness, with which the common verbosity, redundant
description, false sentiment, and erroneous manners of what are called
Indian tales, are as little in keeping as "English figures in
moccasins, and holding bows and arrows."
The excellent portrait at the beginning of this article is from a
daguerreotype by Simons, of Philadelphia.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Two of these lectures were published in 1834, translated into
French by the late Mr. du Ponceau, and subsequently read before the
National Institute of France.
THE MARGRAVINE OF ANSPACH.
The death, in London, a few weeks ago, of a daughter of the celebrated
Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of Anspach, has recalled attention
to the history of that remarkable and celebrated person, whose life
has the interest of a romance.
ELIZABETH BERKELEY, Margravine of Anspach, was born in December, 1750.
She was the daughter of Augustus, fourth Earl of Berkeley, by his wife
Elizabeth, daughter of Henry Drax of Charborough. She was brought up
under the care of a native of Switzerland, the wife of a German tutor
of her uncle. She describes herself as having been a delicate,
diminutive child, addicted at an early age to reading, and of timid
and retired habits. She first beheld a play when she was twelve years
old, and from that occasion she dates the growth of her subsequent
partiality for theatrical entertainments. At the age of thirteen she
paid a short visit to France with her mother and her elder sister, and
at fourteen she had been, as she says she afterwards discovered, "in
love without knowing it" with the Marquis de Fitz James. On the 10th
May, 1767, she was married to William Craven, nephew and heir of the
fifth Lord Craven, whom he succeeded in 1769. She professes to have
felt indifference when receiving his addresses, but the marriage was
for some time a happy one, and she says, "My husband seemed to have no
other delight than in procuring for me all the luxuries and enjoyments
within his power, and it was an eternal dispute (how amiable a
dispute!) between us; _he_ always offering presents, and _I_ refusing
whenever I could." Gifted with genius and beauty, both of which she
knew well how to apply; a woman of Lady Craven's rank naturally drew
around her a large circle of admirers. She says of herself very
characteristically, "In London the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough
showed their partiality to me, and Mr. Walpole, afterwards Lord
Orford, Dr. Johnson, Garrick, and his friend Colman, were among my
numerous admirers; and Sir Joshua Reynolds did not conceal his high
opinion of me. Charles Fox almost quarrelled with me because I was
unwilling to interfere with politics--a thing which I always said I
detested, and considered as being out of the province of a woman."
It appears to have been in the year 1779 that Lady Craven discovered
the infidelities with which she charged her husband, when she
requested of him the favor "that he would not permit his mistress to
call herself Lady Craven." After an interval of about three years
spent in partial reconciliation, a separation took place. The
indifferent tone in which she treats the whole of this transaction,
and her professed readiness to overlook every slight that was not
public and glaring, are a stain on her character, which she has by her
own animated pen exhibited to an age which had forgotten the
accusations to which she was subjected. At the time of her separation
from her husband she was the mother of seven children.
Lady Craven had in the mean time produced her first play, "The
Sleepwalker," a translation from the French, printed in 1778, at her
friend Walpole's press at Strawberry Hill. In 1779 she published
"Modern Anecdotes of the Family of Kinvervankotsprakengatchdern, a
Tale for Christmas." This was a caricature of the ceremonious
pomposity of the petty German courts; it was dramatized by Mr. M. P.
Andrews. Soon after the separation, she passed some time in France,
where she met with the Margrave of Anspach. They formed a sudden
friendship for each other, and agreed to consider each other (we are
told) as brother and sister. In June, 1785, Lady Craven commenced a
tour, in which, starting from Paris, she passed by the Rhine to Italy,
went thence by the Tyrol to Vienna, passed on to Warsaw, Petersburg,
and Moscow, proceeded by the Don to Turkey, and returned by Vienna,
which she reached in August, 1786. On this occasion she ran, by her
own account, a serious risk of being made Empress of Austria. In 1789
she published an account of her tour (1 vol. 4to), in letters
addressed to the margrave, saying in the dedication, "Beside
curiosity, my friends will in these letters see, at least for some
time, where the real Lady Craven has been, and where she is to be
found--it having been the practice for some years past for a
Birmingham coin of myself to pass in most of the inns in France,
Switzerland, and England, for the wife of my husband. My arms and
coronet sometimes supporting in some measure this insolent deception;
by which, probably, I may have been seen to behave very improperly."
This work is interesting from the many sketches it contains of eminent
people--such as the Empress Catharine, the Princess Dashcoff, Prince
Potemkin, Count Romanzoff, Admiral Mordvinoff, the Duc de Choiseul,
and others. It is full of accurate observation and lively description,
expressed in clear and simple English--a style from which in later
life she considerably diverged. She descended into the grotto of
Antiparos, being the first female to undertake the adventure. The
French biographers maintain that the tameness of her description of
the scene shows a deficiency of appreciation of the wonderful and
sublime. She does not indeed ornament her description with hyperboles
and exclamations, but it is clear and expressive, and by the
distinctness of the impression which it conveys to the reader, shows
that the scene was fully noticed and comprehended by the writer. After
her return from her journey, she visited England to see her children,
and then proceeded to France, where she joined the margrave and
accompanied him to Anspach. Here, during a residence of a few years,
she established a theatre, which was chiefly supplied with dramatic
entertainments of her own composition. They were collected into two
volumes 8vo, under the title of "Nouveau Theatre d'Anspach et de
Triesdorf," the latter being the name of a country seat nine miles
from Anspach, where she laid out a park and garden in the English
manner. She established at the same time "a society for the
encouragement of arts and sciences." She soon afterwards visited, in
company with the margrave, the congenial court of Naples, where she
made the acquaintance of Sir William and Lady Hamilton. Her conduct
was the subject of much censure both in England and among the
officials of the court of Anspach, to whom her interference was a
natural subject of distrust; and if it should even be admitted that
her own account of the purity of her motives and conduct is correct,
it cannot be denied that she afforded material for forming the worst
interpretations of them. She maintains that she always opposed the
cession of his dominions to the crown of Prussia by the margrave in
1791, but she was almost his sole adviser on the occasion. She states
that she received the first hint of his design at Naples. One day
while she was dressing for dinner, a servant intimated that the
margrave desired to see her. On her appearance he said, "I must go to
Berlin _incog._--will you go with me? it is the only sacrifice of your
time I will ever require of you." They set out together, and on the
way through Anspach they found the establishment nearly in open revolt
against her influence. The king, however, was kind and generous in the
extreme, and the contracting parties are represented as only striving
to excel each other in generosity. Meanwhile the margrave's first wife
died, and Lord Craven's death occurred six months afterwards, on the
26th September, 1791. Immediately on hearing of this event, Lady
Craven was married to the margrave. "It was six weeks," she says,
"after Lord Craven's decease that I gave my hand to the margrave,
which I should have done six hours after, had I known it at the time."
As the cession of the margraviate to Prussia dates 2d December, 1791,
the marriage must have taken place about three weeks before it. The
nuptials were solemnized at Lisbon, whence the new married pair passed
through Spain and France to England.
The margrave, on the sale of his principality, resolved to spend his
days with his wife in England. They had no sooner arrived, however,
than the storm of family and public indignation which had been brewing
against the margravine burst upon her head. She received a letter from
her three daughters, saying, "with due deference to the Margravine of
Anspach, the Miss Cravens inform her that, out of respect to their
father, they cannot wait upon her," and her eldest son, Lord Craven,
refused to countenance her. The margrave received a message from the
queen, through the Prussian minister, to the effect that his wife,
though she had received a diploma from the emperor, could not be
received at court as a princess of the empire. She says that she
refused to derogate from her dignity by appearing merely as a peeress
of England; but it is not clear that she would have been received in
that capacity. She addressed a memorial on the subject to the House of
Lords, but they gave her no redress; indeed it would not have been
consistent with the practice of that body to interfere on such an
occasion. Soon after their arrival, the margrave purchased through
trustees, Lord Craven's estate of Benham, and the mansion of
Brandenburgh House, a place celebrated as afterwards affording a
retreat to Queen Caroline, the wife of George IV. Until the margrave's
death in 1806, it was a scene of continued profusion and gayety, in
which the luxuries and amusements of an English mansion were united
with those of a German court, "My whole enjoyment," says the
margravine, "during the margrave's valuable life, was to do every
thing in my power, to make him not only comfortable, but happy. Under
my management, the world imagined that he spent double his income."
Her attachment to her second husband was strong. She speaks of him
with an enthusiasm and devotion which bear the stamp of sincerity. "I
believe," she says, "a better man never existed. There never was a
being who could act upon more sincere principles. Nothing could divert
him from what was right. None could bear with patience, like himself,
the ill conduct of those to whom he was attached. None could more
easily forgive." After his decease, the margravine, who succeeded to
the large property which he left, felt impatient to recommence her
wanderings. On the restoration she sailed for France, and, after being
interrupted in her movements by the reign of the hundred days, reached
Rome, where it was said that she kept open house for all the
revolutionists of all countries who chose to accept her hospitalities.
The King of Naples afterwards presented her with a small estate, in
which she built a palace, where she resided till her death, which
occurred on January 13, 1828. Only two years previously, and when she
was seventy-six years old, she surprised and delighted the English
world by the publication of her well-known memoirs. This work is
perhaps one of the best examples of the French memoirs which English
literature possesses. It is indeed thoroughly French, not only in
spirit but in idiom, and, to the reader, has all the appearance of a
translation from that language. It thus affords, in its style, a
remarkable contrast to the book of travels above noticed. It contains
a vast variety of anecdotes and sketches of character, always amusing
if not always accurate. It has no continuity of narrative, leaping
backwards and forwards through all ages, and among every variety of
subject: from a description of the monument which she erected to the
memory of her husband, she takes occasion to give a rapid sketch of
the history of the art of sculpture. The least pleasing feature in the
work is its intense egotism. The margravine was a woman of
wonderfully versatile genius. She wrote with fluency in French and
German. She was an accomplished musician and actress; and she tells
us, "I have executed many busts myself, and among others one of the
margrave, which is generally allowed to be extremely like him."
LONDON DESCRIBED BY A PARISIAN.
M. Francis Wey, who is a college professor and _litterateur_ of some
eminence in Paris, has published for visitors from the continent to
the Great Exhibition, a volume entitled _Guides a Londres_, composed,
we believe, of a series of articles, _Les Anglais chez Eux_ (the
English at Home), which he had contributed to the _Musee des
Familles_, an old and favorite Parisian journal. It is very amusing to
see the manner in which these things are received by the British
press. The sensitiveness of which the Americans are accused is quite
equalled in that which is displayed in the London criticisms of
Monsieur Wey. And just at this time it is all the more pleasant to us,
for that our amiable Mother-Country critics are quoting with so much
enjoyment the characterizations of us poor United-Statesers, done in
the same way, by a gentleman of the same country. Even _Blackwood_
does not seem to have a suspicion that a Frenchman could caricature or
in any way exaggerate the publicities or domesticities of New-York;
but all the independent, care-for-nothing John Bulls see only
"rancor," "ill-will," and "absurdity" in the Frenchman's views of
English society. The _Literary Gazette_, the _Weekly News_, and all
the rest, have the same tone. French travellers, it is said--
"Instead of patiently collecting their facts, they _invent_
them. Instead of representing social usages as they really
are, they state them as what they choose to suppose. They
mistake flippancy for wit, and imperturbable assurance for
knowledge. They speak _ex cathedra_ of matters of which they
are profoundly ignorant. And the consequence of all this is
that they commit the drollest blunders, make the most
startling assertions, indulge in the most grotesque
appreciations, and flounder in the most extravagant
absurdities."
We wonder if a single British reviewer will introduce, with such a
paragraph, his extracts from the Letters on America, by M. XAVIER
MARMIER? Not a bit of it.
On the English language, M. Wey says--
"The Englishman has invented for himself a language adapted
to his placid manners and silent tastes. This language is a
murmur, accompanied by soft hissings; it falls from the
lips, but is scarcely articulated; if the chest or throat be
employed to increase the power of the voice, the words
become changed and scarcely intelligible; if cried aloud,
they are hoarse, and resemble the confused croaking of frogs
in marshes."
"The English are passionately attached to their language.
They have only consented to borrow one single word from us,
and that is employed by their innkeepers--_table d'hote_,
which they pronounce _taible dott_. And yet we have taken
hundreds of words from them!"
English women--
"English women give to us the preference over their own
countrymen. Our gallantry is something new to them, and our
politeness touches their hearts. But though they love us, we
are not liked by their lords and masters. There is no
exaggeration in all that has been said of the beauty of
English women--an assemblage of them would realize the
paradise of Mahomet."
Their dresses--
"Many white gowns are to be seen. White is a _recherche_
luxury in that land of tallow and smoke, where linen becomes
dirty in three hours. However, good taste is making some
progress. Ladies may be met with who are well dressed,
although, generally speaking, a sort of audacity is
displayed in wearing the most irreconcilable colors. What
gives English women a somewhat _bizarre_ appearance, is the
custom they have of swelling out their petticoats, by means
of circles of whalebone or iron:--this causes them to
resemble large bells in movement."
English manners--
"English manners, rigid and cold, and dominated by arid
rationalism, are the work of Cromwell. His bigotry and
hypocrisy, his exterior austerity, his narrow formalism,
suit the Englishman; he keeps up Cromwell's character, and
admires himself in his usages. But he has no pity for his
model--he never forgives Cromwell for having made him what
he is. His spite towards that man is the last cry of nature,
and the vague regret of a liberty of imagination of which
neither the joys or the aspirations have been known since
his time." "They have no grace, no _desinvoltura_, no poesy
in them, but are methodical, reasonable, indefatigable in
work and in amassing lucre."
How the English love--
"They love nothing with the heart; when they do love, it is
exclusively of the head."
English bankers--
"In France we have the love of display; but in London it is
not so. There, some of the principal bankers go every
morning to the butchers' shops to buy their own chops, and
they carry them ostensibly to some tavern in Cheapside or
Fleet Street, where they cook them themselves. Then they buy
three pennyworth of rye-bread, and publicly eat this Spartan
breakfast. The exhibition fills their clients with
admiration. But in the evening these good men make up for
this by taking in their own palaces suppers worthy of
Lucullus."
Flunkeys--
"The English aristocracy are distinguished by the number,
the canes, and the wigs of their lacqueys. Seeing constantly
a footman, well powdered and bewigged, carry horizontally a
large Voltaire cane behind certain sumptuous carriages, I
asked for an explanation; it was soon given--wig, powder,
and cane are aristocratic privileges. Not only must a man
have a certain number of quarterings to be authorized to
make his servants use such things, but he must pay so much
tax for the lacquey, so much for the wig, so much for the
tail to the wig, and so much for the cane."
What most strikes a Frenchman in London--
"The coldness of the men towards the fair sex, and their profound
passion for horses."
Officers of the life and horse guards--
"Cupid seems to have chosen them--they are possessed of such ideal
beauty."
English taverns--
"The Englishman likes to be alone, even at the tavern. He
fastens himself up in a box, where none can see him. There
he drinks with taciturn phlegm. He takes tea, boiling grog,
porter of the color of ink, and beer not less black. He is
very fond of brandy, and drinks large glasses of it at a
draught. He does not go to the tavern to amuse himself, but
because drinking is a grave occupation. The more he swallows
the calmer he is. One can however scarcely decide if his
obstinate moroseness be a precaution against drunkenness, or
the effect of spirituous liquors taken in excess. At some of
the taverns are three gentlemen, dressed in black, with
white cravats, who sing after one of them has struck the
table with a little hammer; they are as serious as
Protestant ministers or money-changers."
English food--
"Thick stupefying beer, meat almost raw and horribly spiced;
strong libations of port wine, followed by
plum-pudding--such is the meat of these islanders."
How the English eat--
"They eat at every hour, every where, and incessantly. The
iron constitution of their complaisant stomachs enables them
to feed in a manner which would satisfy wolves and lions.
The delicate repast of a fair and sentimental young lady
would be too much for a couple of Parisian street porters."
Stables and museums--
"Stables are clean and brilliant as museums ought to be; and
the museums are as filthy as stables in Provence."
The Queen's stables--
"They form a college of horses, with pedantic grooms for
professors, and a harness room for a library:"
English omnibuses--
"The omnibuses of London are worn out, ill built, and
remarkably dirty. Even in wet weather nobody is ever allowed
to enter the interior so long as any places are vacant
outside. We had expected to find them built of mahogany and
lined with velvet."
London--
"London, wholly devoted to private interests, offers nothing
to the heart or mind. The city is too large; a man is lost
in it; you elbow thousands of people without the hope of
meeting any one you know. Even if you have a large fortune
you would be ignored. Originality is there without effect;
vanity without an object; and the desire of shining is
chimerical. Intelligence has therefore only one opening,
politics; pride only one object, the national sentiment; but
as the people must feel enthusiasm for something, they adore
horses; and as they must admire somebody, they burn incense
under Lord Wellington's nose."
After midnight--
"At midnight the English leave the taverns, the public
gardens, the theatres, and the open air balls, and fill up
the supper saloons (not very reputable places), and the
oyster rooms, where they eat till morning. After sunrise,
the policemen are occupied in picking up in the gutters
drunkards of both sexes, and all conditions."
London rain--
"It is tallow melted in water, and perfectly black."
A bad quarter--
"Between Cornhill Street and Thames Street, there lives what
is called the populace of London; there pauperism is
frightful. The wretched inhabitants of that district are
brawlers, drunkards, and prize-fighters."
At Westminster Abbey--
"Shakspeare slumbers at a few steps from Richard II. The
tombs bear traces of Presbyterian mutilations; but in other
places the Calvinists scattered the bones of the deceased
Bishops of Geneva. Such is the intolerance of the
Protestants that they have not admitted the statue of Byron
to the Abbey, and his shadow may be heard groaning at the
door."
At Her Majesty's Theatre--
"To go with a blue cravat is _shocking_. When the doors are
open, blows with the fist and the elbow are given without
regard to age or sex. It is the peculiar fashion of entering
which the natives have. If a Frenchman be recognized the
people cry _French dog_. In the pit, the man behind you will
place his foot on your shoulder. The ladies are plunged up
to the neck in boxes. In the theatre there is an echo, which
produces an abominable effect; but such is the vile musical
taste of the English that they have never found it out. In
the saloon you hear the continual hissing of teakettles."
The English Parliament--
"The House of Commons at present meets in a hole. The peers
are in their new chamber. It is small, not monumental, and
heavily ornamented. It reminds one of our tea shops, or a
_boudoir_. The lords, when assembled, are generally placed
on their backs, or rather lean on the back of the neck, and
keep their legs above their heads. The Queen's throne, like
constitutional royalty, is a gilded cage."
The new Houses of Parliament--
"They are an immense architectural plaything, and the
English only admire them because they cost a vast sum."
English love of titles--
"One of my friends gave me a letter of introduction to Sir
William P----, _Esquire_. I left the letter with my card at
the Reform Club, Pall Mall. Two hours after Sir William came
to my residence; but as I was not at home he wrote a line,
and addressed it to me with the flattering designation of
_Esquire_. England is the country of legal equality; but
this sort of equilibrium does not extend to social usages;
and although our _penchant_ for distinctions seems puerile
to the English, it would be easy to prove that they are not
exempt from it. They have not, as we have, the love of
uniforms, laced coats, epaulettes, or decorations; their
button-holes often carry a flower, but never a rosette or
knot of ribbon. But every body pretends to the title of
_Sir_, which was formerly reserved exclusively to members of
the House of Commons, to Baronets, and to some public
functionaries. As, however, the title _Sir_ has become too
vulgar, every body calls himself _Esquire_ to distinguish
himself from his neighbor. This remark, nevertheless, does
not concern my friend Sir William, for he is really an
Esquire."
English soldiers--
"The noise which announces their approach is very singular.
Picture to yourself the monotonous music of a bear's dance,
executed by twenty fifers, whilst a man beats a big drum.
The coats of the infantry are too short, and are surmounted
with large white epaulettes. The men sway their bodies about
to the beating of the drum, and carry their heads so stiffly
that they appear to be balancing spoons on their noses. All
the officers and non-commissioned officers carry long sticks
with ivory handles."
Resemblance of Englishmen one to another--
"All Englishmen are alike. They live in the same way, are
subject to the same logical rules, condemned to the same
amusements. The proof that there exists only one character
amongst them, and that they have only one way of living, is,
that it is impossible, on seeing them, to divine their
profession. A lord, a minister, a domestic, a street singer,
a merchant, an admiral, a soldier, a general, an artist, a
judge, a prize-fighter, and a clergyman, have all the same
appearance, the same language, the same costume, and the
same bearing. Each one has the air of an Englishman, and
nothing more. They live in the same way, work at the same
hours, eat at the same time, and of the same sort of food,
and are all sequestrated when away from home from the
society of women."
The French at London--
"At London the French labor under two subjects of anxiety,
caused by their national prejudices. Accustomed to consider
themselves as the first people in the world, to dazzle some,
to despise others, and to display every where the confident
pride of their supremacy, they, on treading the British
soil, experience the impression of a greatness not borrowed
from them; they are astonished at finding a people as
remarkable as ours, as original as we are, and carrying to a
still prouder degree the sentiment of their pre-eminence.
Then our countrymen become disquieted; the intolerance of
their national faith becomes mitigated; they are ill at
ease, and for the first time in their lives feel constraint.
Ceasing to believe themselves amongst slaves as in Italy,
amongst vassals as in Belgium, or amongst innkeepers as in
Switzerland or Germany, they endeavor to resemble sovereigns
visiting other sovereigns, and by forced politeness render
them involuntary homage."
Feeling of the English toward the French--
"They honor us with a marked attention, though they are
indifferent to the rest of mankind. Our opinions respecting
them cause them anxiety. They either admire us
enthusiastically, or disparage us bitterly; but, in reality,
they are obsequious and servile toward us!"
After a good deal of the numerous statues to Wellington, this at
English admiration of Waterloo--
"The trumpet of Waterloo which has been sounded in London
every where incessantly, and in every tone, during
thirty-five years, diminishes the grandeur of the English
nation. This intoxication seems that of a people who, never
having won more than one battle, and despairing to conquer a
second time, cannot recover from their surprise, nor bear in
patience an unhoped-for glory."
How the English judge Napoleon--
"Public opinion has avenged the prisoner of St Helena; but
does it follow that in 1815 the English protested with
sufficient energy against his imprisonment! No. Englishmen
are naturally indifferent and indulgent as regards their
foreign neighbors, so long as patriotism or private interest
is not at stake. Napoleon was the most terrible of their
enemies; he placed England within ten steps of bankruptcy,
and seriously menaced national manufactures. Not possessed
of military instinct, the English do not pretend to
chivalrous generosity. On the fall of the Empire, caused by
the implacable perseverance of coalitions, the nation
remembered that the Hundred Days cost its government a
million an hour, and so long as the deficit was not made up,
their resentment underwent no diminution. But now if you
celebrate his glory before them, they will not display
hostility. You must not, however, touch the till of this
tribe of tradesmen, or they will be your bitter enemies. And
the proof that they are nothing but shopkeepers is that
their first functionary sits in a gilded arm chair on a
wool-sack."
THE BEAUTIFUL STREAMLET AND THE UTILITARIAN.
Alphonse Karr's new book, _Travels in my Garden_, is full of social
heresies, but quite as full of wit. We find in _Fraser's Magazine_ for
May translations of some admirable passages, with specimens of his
peculiar speculation. Karr is an ardent lover of Nature; he takes note
of all her caprices, and respects them,--remarks under what shade the
violet loves to dwell, and tells us how certain plants--the volubulis,
the scarlet-runner, and the Westeria, for instance--invariably twine
their spiral tendrils from left to right, whereas hops and
honeysuckles as infallibly twist theirs from right to left. He knows
which are the plants that fold, when evening comes, their leaves in
two, lengthwise,--which are those that close them up like fans, and
which are the careless ones that crumple them up irregularly with
happy impunity, for the next morning's sun smooths them all alike. He
loves Nature in all her details, but with disinterested love, and has
no idea of making her subservient to his pride, or selfishly
monopolizing her; he has evidently no wish to wall in woods and
meadows, and call them a park, or to dam up sparkling, bubbling,
dancing streams, and turn them into cold, spiritless, aristocratic
sheets of water. Indeed, in one of the first chapters of the book,
there is a fanciful bit of sentiment about a happy little stream that
falls into the hands of a pitiless utilitarian, which we are tempted
to quote:--
"That stream which runs through my garden gushes from the
side of a furze-covered hill; for a long time it was a happy
little stream; it traversed meadows where all sorts of
lovely wild flowers bathed and mirrored themselves in its
waters, then it entered my garden, and there I was ready to
receive it; I had prepared green tanks for it; on its edge
and in its very bed I had planted those flowers which all
over the world love to bloom on the banks and in the bosom
of pure streams; it flowed through my garden, murmuring its
plaintive song; then, fragrant with my flowers, it left the
garden, crossed another meadow, and flung itself into the
sea, over the precipitous sides of the cliff, which it
covered with foam.
"It was a happy stream; it had literally nothing to do
beyond what I have said,--to flow, to bubble, to look
limpid, to murmur, amidst flowers and sweet perfumes. It led
the life I have chosen, and that I continue to lead, when
people let me alone, and when knaves and fools and wicked
men do not force me--who am at once the most pacific and the
most battling man on earth--to return to the fight. But
heaven and earth are jealous of the happiness of gentle
indolence.
"One day my brother Eugene, and Savage, the clever engineer,
were talking together on the banks of the stream, and to a
certain degree abusing it.
"'There,' said my brother, 'is a fine good-for-nothing
stream for you, forsooth, winding and dawdling about,
dancing in the sunshine, and revelling in the grass instead
of working and paying for the place it takes up, as an
honest stream should. Could it not be made to grind coffee
or pepper?'
"'Or tools?' added Savage.
"'Or to saw boards?' said my brother.
"I trembled for the stream, and broke off the conversation,
complaining loudly that its detractors (its would-be
tyrants) were treading down my forget-me-nots. Alas! it was
but against them alone I could protect it. Before long there
came into our neighborhood a man whom I noticed more than
once hanging about the spot where the stream empties itself
into the sea. The fellow I plainly saw was neither seeking
for rhymes, nor indulging in dreams and memories upon its
banks,--he was not lulling thought to rest with the gentle
murmur of its waters. 'My good friend,' he was saying to the
stream, 'there you are, idling and meandering about, singing
to your heart's content, while I am working and wearing
myself out. I don't see why you should not help me a bit;
you know nothing of the work to be done, but I'll soon show
you. You'll soon know how to set about it. You must find it
dull to stay in this way, doing nothing,--it would be a
change for you to make files or grind knives.' Very soon
wheels of all kinds were brought to the poor stream. From
that day forward it has worked and turned a great wheel,
which turns a little wheel, which turns a grindstone; it
still sings, but no longer the same gently-monotonous song
in its peaceful melancholy. Its song is loud and angry
now,--it leaps and froths and works now,--it grinds knives!
It still crosses the meadow, and my garden, and the next
meadow; but there, the man is on the watch for it, to make
it work. I have done the only thing I could do for it. I
have dug a new bed for it in my garden, so that it may idle
longer there, and leave me a little later; but for all that,
it must go at last and grind knives. Poor stream! thou didst
not sufficiently conceal thy happiness in obscurity,--thou
hast murmured too audibly thy gentle music."
SIR EMERSON TENNANT ON AMERICAN MISSIONS IN CEYLON.
One of the most respectable persons employed in the English colonial
service, is Sir EMERSON TENNANT, LL. D., K. C. B. &c., who was for
many years connected with the administration in Ceylon, and is now, we
believe, Governor of St. Helena. He has recently published a volume
entitled _Christianity in Ceylon_, in which there are some passages of
especial interest to American readers, displaying in a favorable
light, the services rendered to civilization by the missionaries of
this country. These parts of his work have attracted much
consideration. The _Dublin University Magazine_ remarks:
"We describe the American Mission, which acts under the direction of
one of the oldest and most remarkable of the existing associations for
the dissemination of Christianity, "The American Board of
Commissioners for Foreign Missions," whose head-quarters are at
Boston, in Massachusetts. The first settlers in Massachusetts, like
those of New England generally, were missionary colonists. Their
charter, given by Charles I., states that one of the objects of the
king and of the planters was the conversion of the natives to the true
faith; and the seal of the company thus incorporated bore the device
of a North American Indian, with the motto "_Come over and help us_."
It may be interesting to add, that the "pilgrim fathers" of the New
England States were, indirectly, the cause of the Protestant missions
of the Dutch. They were, as our author states, 'the first pioneers of
the Protestant world, and the first heralds of the Reformed religion
to the heathen of foreign lands. Their mission is more ancient than
the Propaganda of Rome, and it preceded by nearly a century any other
missionary association in Europe. It was encouraged by Cromwell, and
incorporated by Charles II.; and Cotton Mather records that it was the
example of the New England fathers, and their success amongst the
Indians, that first aroused the energy of the Dutch for the conversion
of the natives of Ceylon.'
"We cannot doubt that amongst the main causes of the prosperity of
North America are, the permanence of religious feeling, and the
blessing attendant on the fact, that the missionary spirit has never
perished. The labors of this great people on their own vast continent
have been conducted with the greatest judgment, and marked by a
success which encouraged their extension in other lands. In the year
1812, they turned their attention to the East, and, under an act of
incorporation from the state of Massachusetts, commenced their
missionary efforts in the Old World. Their first missionaries to India
appeared there in 1812, but were ordered by the Governor-General to
leave Calcutta by the same vessel in which they had arrived. One of
them landing in Ceylon, on his voyage home, was so struck with the
openings which it presented for missionary enterprise, and so much
encouraged by the Governor, Sir Robert Brownrigg, to engage in it,
that, on his representations, the American Board, in 1816, sent out
three clergymen and their wives, who fixed their residence at Jaffina,
which has been ever since the scene of their remarkable labors. These
were reinforced in 1829, and for many years their establishment has
consisted of from seven to eleven ordained ministers, with a
physician, conductors of the press, and other lay assistants; these
are selected from Congregationalists and Presbyterians. It is
gratifying to be enabled to add, that a most cordial good-will and
desire to co-operate has from the beginning prevailed between them and
the other Protestant missionaries in their neighborhood. For thirty
years they have assembled periodically in a "missionary union," to
decide on measures and compare results. "With all of them education
is," as our author says, "a diurnal occupation; whilst in their purely
clerical capacity they have felt the necessity of proceeding with more
cautious circumspection, improving rather than creating opportunities,
relying less upon formal preaching than on familiar discourses, and
trusting more to the intimate exhortation of a few than to the effect
of popular addresses to indiscriminate assemblies.'
"'The first embryo instruction is communicated by them in
free village schools, scattered everywhere throughout the
district, in which the children of the Tamils are taught in
their own tongue the simplest elements of knowledge, and the
earliest processes of education--to read from translations
of the Christian Scriptures, and to write their own
language, first by tracing the letters on the sand, and
eventually by inscribing them with an iron style upon the
prepared leaves of the _Palmyra palm_. It will afford an
idea of the extent and perseverance with which education has
been pursued in these primitive institutions, that, in the
free schools of the Americans alone, 4,000 pupils, of whom
one-fourth are females, are daily receiving instruction, and
upwards of 90,000 children have been taught in them since
their commencement, a proportion equal to one-half the
present population of the peninsula.'"
"It was soon seen that, in addition to these primary schools, the
establishment of boarding schools was extremely desirable, for the
purpose of separating the pupils from the influence of idolatry. The
attempt was made, but proved to be attended with difficulties which
would have appeared to many insurmountable. In the first place, the
natives were suspicious, not conceiving that strangers could undertake
such toil, trouble, and expense, without an interested object. The
more positive difficulty was connected with caste, with the reluctance
of parents to permit their children to associate with those of a lower
rank.
"'This the missionaries overcame, not so much by inveighing
against the absurdity of such distinctions as by practically
ignoring them, except wherever expediency or necessity
required their recognition. In all other cases where the
customs and prejudices of the Tamils were harmless in
themselves, or productive of no inconvenience to others,
they were in no way contravened or prohibited; but as
intelligence increased, and the minds of the pupils became
expanded, the most distinctive and objectionable of them
were voluntarily and almost imperceptibly abandoned.
"'When the boarders were first admitted to one of the
American schools at Batticotta, a cook-house was obliged to
be erected for them on the adjoining premises of a heathen,
as they would not eat under the roof of a Christian; but
after a twelvemonth's perseverance, the inconvenience
overcame the objection, and they removed to the refectory of
the institution. But here a fresh difficulty was to be
encountered; some of the high caste youths made an objection
to use the same wells which had been common to the whole
establishment; and it was agreed to meet their wishes by
permitting them to clear out one in particular, to be
reserved exclusively for themselves. They worked incessantly
for a day, but finding it hopeless to draw it perfectly dry,
they resolved to accommodate the difficulty, on the
principle, that having drawn off as much water as the well
contained when they began, the remainder must be
sufficiently pure for all ordinary uses.'"
"In addition to these primary and boarding-schools, the American
Mission, in 1830, established schools for teaching English, and for
elementary instruction of a more advanced description. These were all
under a discipline avowedly Christian, yet the missionaries found that
they were able not only to enforce the fee demanded, but to maintain
their regulations without loss of numbers.
"'And it is a fact,' says Sir Emerson Tennent, 'suggestive
of curious speculation as to the genius and character of
this anomalous people, that in a heathen school recently
established by Brahmans in the vicinity of Jaffna, the
Hindoo Community actually compelled those who conducted it
to introduce the reading of the Bible as an indispensable
portion of the ordinary course of instruction.'"
"This does not seem so strange to us. The shrewd Tamils, as we collect
from other observations in the work before us, perceived how the
Bible-reading children had improved in demeanor, conduct, and success
in life. For these same reasons, and possibly in some cases from a
deeper feeling never yet avowed, the Roman Catholic peasantry of
Ireland, before the introduction of the National System of Education,
and previously to, and, in many cases, long after, the expressed
hostility of their priesthood, anxiously sent their children to the
schools of the Kildare-place and the Hibernian Bible Societies.
"The other missionaries, we need hardly say, were as active as the
Americans. After some years of further experience, they all felt the
necessity of founding educational institutions of a still more
advanced description for the instruction of the natives in their own
language. It became plain to them that, from physical as well as moral
causes, the conversion of the natives could be only hoped for through
the medium of their well-taught and well-trained countrymen. The
niceties of the language and their modes of thought presented
difficulties of a most serious character to others; the very terms of
the ordinary address of a missionary suggested ideas altogether
different from what he intended. Thus, when GOD is spoken of, they
probably understand one of their own deities who yields to every vile
indulgence; by SIN, they mean ceremonial defilement, or evil committed
in a former birth, for which they are not accountable; _hell_ with
them is only a place of temporary punishment; and _heaven_ nothing
more than absorption, or the loss of individuality. Under these
impressions each of the missionary bodies at Jaffna formed for
themselves a collegiate institution, in which the best scholars from
their other schools were admitted to a still more advanced course, and
taught the sciences of Europe. That of the Church Missionary Society
of England was established at Nellore, but subsequently removed to
Chundically; the Wesleyans commenced theirs in the great square of
Jaffna; and that of the Americans was founded at Batticotta, in the
midst of a cultivated country, within sight of the sea, and at a very
few miles distant from the fort."
"'It was opened in 1823, with about fifty students chosen
from the most successful pupils of all the schools in the
province; and the course of education is so comprehensive as
to extend over a period of eight years of study. With a
special regard to the future usefulness of its alumni in the
conflict with the errors of the Brahmanical system, the
curriculum embraces all the ordinary branches of historical
and classical learning, and all the higher departments of
mathematical and physical science, combined with the most
intricate familiarization with the great principles and
evidences of the Christian religion.
"'The number which the building can accommodate is limited,
for the present, to one hundred, who reside within its
walls, and take their food in one common hall, sitting to
eat after the custom of the natives. For some years the
students were boarded and clothed at the expense of the
mission; but such is now the eagerness for instruction that
there are a multitude of competitors for every casual
vacancy; and the cost of their maintenance during the whole
period of pupilage is willingly paid in advance, in order to
secure the privilege of admission.
"'Nearly six hundred students have been under instruction
from time to time since the commencement of the American
Seminary at Batticotta, and of these upwards of four hundred
have completed the established course of education. More
than one-half have made an open profession of Christianity,
and all have been familiarized with its doctrines, and more
or less imbued with its spirit. The majority are now filling
situations of credit and responsibility throughout the
various districts of Ceylon; numbers are employed under the
missionaries themselves, as teachers and catechists, and as
preachers and superintendents of schools; many have
migrated, in similar capacities, to be attached to Christian
missions on the continent of India; others have lent their
assistance to the missions of the Wesleyans and the Church
of England in Ceylon; and amongst those who have attached
themselves to secular occupations, I can bear testimony to
the abilities, the qualifications, and integrity, of the
many students of Jaffna, who have accepted employment in
various offices under the Government of the colony.'"
"Another of the instruments of conversion adopted by these
indefatigable men is _the press_. They were long obliged to have their
tracts written out on _olahs_, or strips of the Palmyra leaf, which,
when the missionary took for distribution, were strung round the neck
of his horse. The printing establishment of the American Mission has
for many years given constant employment to upwards of eighty Tamil
workmen. Their publications are either religious or educational; and
one of their ulterior objects is to supersede the degraded legends
still in circulation. The natives of Ceylon, like most other Asiatics,
have a strong repugnance to reading. This, however, has been to some
extent already overcome, both on the continent of India and in Ceylon,
as is evident from the facts of the establishment of native presses in
Hindostan, and of the success of a missionary newspaper in Ceylon for
the last seven years, which has now more than seven hundred
subscribers, of whom five-sixths are Tamils. The Church Missionary
Society have also a press amongst the Tamils; the Wesleyans
established theirs in the Singhalese districts, and the Baptists have
one at work in Kandy. One of the greatest, among the many triumphs of
the missionaries in Ceylon, has been in the education of girls. The
position of woman in that island, as in most parts of the East, was
one of inferiority and toil. She was not permitted to sit at table
with the males, or even to eat in the presence of her husband. Her
education was so wholly neglected that, amongst the Tamils, no woman
knew her alphabet, except such as rather gave the accomplishment a bad
name--the dancing girls and prostitutes attached to the temples, who
learned to read and write that they might copy songs and the legends
of their gods. It was, however, plain that no extensive good would be
effected without the education of women. The male converts could not
get suitable wives, and the children would be in the hands of
idolaters. In addition to their natural influence in a family, the
women of the Tamils, where this new attempt in education was first
made, had rights of property, which, notwithstanding the inferiority
of their social position, gave them peculiar influence.
"'It is, we are told, a paramount object of ambition with
Tamil parents to secure an eligible alliance for their
daughters by the assignment of extravagant marriage
portions. These consist either of land, or of money secured
upon land; and as the law of Ceylon recognizes the absolute
control of the lady over the property thus conveyed to her
sole and separate use, the prevalence of the practice has,
by degrees, thrown an extraordinary extent of the landed
property of the country into the hands of the females, and
invested them with a corresponding proportion of authority
in its management.'"
Impressed with the urgency of the object, the missionaries attempted
the establishment of female schools, and especially of boarding
schools, where Hindoo girls might be trained, and separated from evil
influences until they could be settled with the approbation of the
guardians. They had at first great difficulty in getting pupils, and
only enticed them by presents of dress, or some such cogent bribe, or
by engagements to give fortunes of five or six pounds to all who
remained in their institutions until suitably married. Even with these
allurements their early efforts promised no success. Parents were
inveighed against for allowing their daughters to be instructed, and
so strong was native prejudice that the children, when learning to
read, blushed with shame. These and other obstacles have been
surmounted, and, as the following extract shows, the missionaries have
no longer to allure, but must select their scholars. The Americans
made the first experiment at Oodooville, a few miles distant from the
fort of Jaffna:--
"'The hamlet of Oodooville is in the centre of a tract of
very rich land, and the buildings occupied by the Americans
were originally erected by the Portuguese for a Roman
Catholic church, and the residence of a friar of the order
of St. Francis. It is a beautiful spot, embowered in trees,
and all its grounds and gardens are kept in becoming order,
with the nicest care and attention.
"'The institution opened in 1824, with about thirty pupils,
between the ages of five and eleven; and this, after eight
years of previous exertion and entreaty, was the utmost
number of female scholars who could be prevailed on to
attend from the whole extent of the province. This
difficulty has been long since overcome. Instead of
solicitations and promises, to allure scholars, the
missionaries have long since been obliged to limit their
admissions to one hundred, the utmost that their buildings
can accommodate; and now, so eager are the natives to secure
education for their daughters, that a short time before my
visit, on the occasion of filling up some vacancies, upwards
of sixty candidates were in anxious attendance, of whom only
seventeen could be selected, there being room for no more.
The earliest inmates of the institution were of low castes
and poor; whereas the pupils and candidates now are, many of
them, of most respectable families, and the daughters of
persons of property and influence in the district.
"'The course of instruction is in all particulars adapted to
suit the social circumstances of the community; along with a
thorough knowledge of the Scriptures and the principles of
the Christian religion, it embraces all the ordinary
branches of female education, which are communicated both in
Tamil and in English; and combined with this intellectual
culture, the girls are carefully trained, conformably to the
usages of their country, in all the discipline and
acquirements essential to economy and domestic enjoyments at
home. Of two hundred and fifty females who have been thus
brought up at Oodooville, more than half have been since
married to Christians, and are now communicating to their
children the same training and advantages of which they have
so strongly felt the benefit themselves.'"
"The consequence of these proceedings is, that the number of
households is fast increasing, where the mother, trained in the habits
of civilized life, and instructed in the principles of Christianity,
is anxious to give to her children the like advantages."
A PAPER OF ... TOBACCO.
We find a lively passage on tobacco in the pleasant new book by
Alphonse Karr. It must be borne in mind that, in France, tobacco is a
monopoly--and a very productive one--in the hands of government:--
"There is a family of poisonous plants, amongst which we may
notice the henbane, the datura stramonium, and the tobacco
plant. The tobacco plant is perhaps a little less poisonous
than the datura, but it is more so than the henbane, which
is a violent poison. Here is a tobacco plant--as fine a
plant as you can wish to see. It grows to the height of six
feet; and from the centre of a tuft of leaves, of a
beautiful green, shoot out elegant and graceful clusters of
pink flowers.
"For a long while the tobacco plant grew unknown and
solitary in the wilds of America. The savage to whom we had
given brandy gave us in exchange tobacco, with the smoke of
which they used to intoxicate themselves on grand occasions.
The intercourse between the two worlds began by this amiable
interchange of poisons.
"Those who first thought of putting tobacco dust up their
noses were first laughed at, and then persecuted more or
less. James I., of England, wrote against snuff-takers a
book entitled _Misocapnos_. Some years later, Pope Urban
VIII. excommunicated all persons who took snuff in churches.
The Empress Elizabeth thought it necessary to add something
to the penalty of excommunication pronounced against those
who used the black dust during divine service, and
authorised the beadles to confiscate the snuff-boxes to
their own use. Amurath IV. forbade the use of snuff under
pain of having the nose cut of.
"No useful plant could have withstood such attacks. If
before this invention a man had been found to say, Let us
seek the means of filling the coffers of the state by a
voluntary tax; let us set about selling something which
every body will like to do without. In America there is a
plant essentially poisonous; if from its leaves you extract
an empyreumatic oil, a single drop of it will cause an
animal to die in horrible convulsions. Suppose we offer this
plant for sale chopped up or reduced to a powder. We will
sell it very dear, and tell people to stuff the powder up
their noses.
"'That is to say, I suppose, you will force them to do so by
law?'
"'Not a bit of it. I spoke of a voluntary tax. As to the
portion we chop up, we will tell them to inhale it, and
swallow a little of the smoke from it besides.'
"'But it will kill them.'
"'No; they will become rather pale, perhaps feel giddy, spit
blood, and suffer from colics, or have pains in the
chest--that's all. Besides, you know, although it has been
often said that habit is second nature, people are not yet
aware how completely man resembles the knife, of which the
blade first and then the handle had been changed two or
three times. In man there is no nature left--nothing but
habit remains. People will become like Mithridates, who had
learnt to live on poisons.
"'The first time that a man will smoke he will feel
sickness, nausea, giddiness, and colics; but that will go
off by degrees, and in time he will get so accustomed to it,
that he will only feel such symptoms now and then--when he
smokes tobacco that is bad, or too strong--or when he is not
well, and in five or six other cases. Those who take it in
powder will sneeze, have a disagreeable smell, lose the
sense of smelling, and establish in their nose a sort of
perpetual blister.'
"'Then, I suppose it smells very nice.'
"'Quite the reverse. It has a very unpleasant smell; but, as
I said, we'll sell it very dear, and reserve to ourselves
the monopoly of it.'
"'My good friend,' one would have said to any one absurd
enough to hold a similar language, 'nobody will envy you the
privilege of selling a weed that no one will care to buy.
You might as well open a shop and write on it: Kicks sold
here; or, Such-a-one sells blows, wholesale and retail. You
will find as many customers as for your poisonous weed.'
"Well! who would have believed that the first speaker was
right, and that the tobacco speculation would answer
perfectly! The kings of France have written no satires
against snuff, have had no noses cut off, no snuff-boxes
confiscated. Far from it. They have sold tobacco, laid an
impost on noses, and given snuff-boxes to poets with their
portraits on the lid, and diamonds all round. This little
trade has brought them in I don't know how many millions a
year. The potato was far more difficult to popularize, and
has still some adversaries."
LORD JEFFREY AND JOANNA BAILLIE.
Joanna Baillie's first volume of poems was severely criticised in the
_Edinburgh Review_ by Jeffrey. In an article upon the deceased poetess
in _Chambers's Journal_, we have an account of her subsequent
relations with the reviewer. She visited Edinburgh in 1808.
"As she did not refuse to go into company, she could not be
long in that city without encountering Francis Jeffrey, the
foremost man in the bright train of _beaux-esprits_ which
then adorned the society of the Scottish capital. He would
gladly have been presented to her; and if she had permitted
it, there is little doubt that in the eloquent flow of his
delightful and genial conversation, enough of the admiration
he really felt for her poetry must have been expressed, to
have softened her into listening at least with patience to
his suggestions for her improvement. But in vain did the
friendly Mrs. Betty Hamilton (authoress of 'The Cottagers of
Glenburnie') beg for leave to present him to her when they
met in her hospitable drawing-room; and equally in vain were
the efforts made by the good-natured Duchess of Gordon to
bring about an introduction which she knew was desired at
least by one of the parties. It was civilly but coldly
declined by the poetess; and though the dignified reason
assigned was the propriety of leaving the critic more
entirely at liberty in his future strictures than an
_acquaintance_ might perhaps feel himself, there seems
little reason to doubt that soreness and natural resentment
had something to do with the refusal."
"It was in the autumn of 1820 that Miss Baillie paid her
last visit to Scotland, and passed those delightful days
with Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, the second of which is
so pleasantly given in Mr. Lockhart's life of the bard. Her
friends again perceived a change in her manners. They had
become blander, and much more cordial. She had probably been
now too long admired and reverently looked up to not to
understand her own position, and the encouragement which,
essentially unassuming as she was, would be necessary from
her to reassure the timid and satisfy the proud. She had
magnanimously forgiven and lived down the unjust severity of
her Edinburgh critic, and now no longer refused to be made
personally known to him. He was presented to her by their
mutual friend, the amiable Dr. Morehead. They had much
earnest and interesting talk together, and from that hour to
the end of their lives entertained for each other a mutual
and cordial esteem. After this, Jeffrey seldom visited
London without indulging himself in a friendly pilgrimage to
the shrine of the secluded poetess; and it is pleasing to
find him writing of her in the following cordial way in
later years: "_London_, April 28, 1840.--I forgot to tell
you that we have been twice out to Hampstead to hunt out
Joanna Baillie, and found her the other day as fresh,
natural, and amiable as ever--and as little like a Tragic
Muse. Since old Mrs. Brougham's death, I do not know so nice
an old woman." And again, in January 7, 1842.--"We went to
Hampstead, and paid a very pleasant visit to Joanna Baillie,
who is marvellous in health and spirits, and youthful
freshness and simplicity of feeling, and not a bit deaf,
blind, or torpid.""
_Authors and Books._
DR. TITUS TOBLER, a Swiss savan, has just published a work entitled
_Golgotha, its Churches and Cloisters_, in the course of which he
undertakes the "Jerusalem question," or the discussion of the probable
localities of the Scripture narrative of the crucifixion. Among the
able German accounts of this treatise, which cannot fail to arrest the
attention of the sacred student, we find the following notice of
Professor Robinson, the first profound and adequate contemporary
authority upon the subject: "Until the American Robinson, all the
early comparisons and criticisms upon the holy sepulchre were based
much more upon instinct and furious sectarianism, than upon a generous
love of truth and a genuine insight into the matter. Only with
wearisome effort, and not without the consent of the whole Church
power, was Robinson's mighty grasp upon pious tradition repelled. In
the main question the learned Yankee was not altogether wrong. But he
is too rash in battle, too impatient, too reckless, too ambitious, and
his armor was evidently not proof in all parts. Even the knowledge of
the Semitic orient, of its antiquities and customs, seems, if we may
say so without offence to transatlantic vanity, a little threadbare.
But the Robinsonian breach in the wall was not to be entirely
plastered up and its traces concealed. This American has first
recognized the right way of breaking into the citadel of tradition;
others, with more or less skill, have followed his track and widened
the breach. But it was reserved for the inflexible ability of Dr.
Tobler to dig up the very foundations, although he is no centaur, no
giant, and in the pride of strength, does not scorn a childlike
faith."
* * * * *
Among recent German romances we note second and third editions of
JEREMIAS GOTTHELF'S _Sylvester-Dream_, and the _Peasant's Mirror, or a
Life-History_. The author is not much known beyond Germany, but is
there recognized as having the greatest certainty and correctness in
delineation, the most genial principle, and the soundest and freshest
life of any contemporary writer. The Sylvester-Dream is as vague and
fantastic, and of the same electrical effect, as the similar sparkling
flights of Dickens and Jean Paul. _Uriel the Devil_, a satirical
romance, in eight pictures, bears the name of Kaulbach, but whether
the author is related to William Kaulbach, the great painter, we have
no means of ascertaining. This, with the _Memorabilia of a German
House-Servant_ are spoiled by their imitations of Jean Paul, and the
latter is somewhat strongly infected with Hoffman's Phantasies. But
they are both books of more than common talent. Two romances by two
women are most curtly and contemptuously noticed, in a style of
uncourteous condemnation hardly to be paralleled in England or
America, in which countries the chivalry of private respect for the
fair sex always ameliorates condemnation of their writings. "Of these
two books there is little else to say than that they are moral and
respectable, and extremely well written for women. The former author
has the rare and memorable heroism in a woman to allow her heroine to
reach her thirty-fourth year."
Levin Schuneking formerly Grand-Master at the Court of the Elector of
Cologne, has just published _The Peasant Prince_, a romance, called in
Germany his best work.
* * * * *
KOHL, the traveller or writer of travels, has just published a book
upon the Rhine, which is not of the usual character of his works, as
the author perhaps feared too much the criticising contrast of Victor
Hugo's _Rhine_, to undertake a detailed and sprightly description of
the present life and aspect of the country. The new work is, in fact,
an attempt to portray, according to Ritter's principles, a famous
river region in its geological, historical and statistical relations;
and from this point of view to present it vividly to the mind. The
contents are simple and succinctly arranged, and the book is a signal
success in the popularization of the results of recent geographical
research. It has the same relation to the old river guide books, that
Ritter's philosophical geography has to the old geographies.
* * * * *
ANASTASIUS GRUN, the famous German poet, has just edited the poetical
remains of Nicolaus Lenau, of whom Auerbach wrote a graceful
reminiscence for the German _Museum_, under the title of _Lenau's last
Summer_. The chief poem of the collection is entitled _Don Juan_,
which, although not fully finished, the German critics highly extol.
Soon after the death of Lenau, in a madhouse, last year, we gave some
account of him in the _International_.
* * * * *
Of Sir CHARLES LYELL'S Second Journey in America, which Mr. E.
Dieffenbach has rendered into German, the Germans say that its
geniality and _gentlemanliness_, its graceful and striking pictures of
the state of society, politics, and religion, and its popular
treatment of scientific subjects, make it altogether charming. A
reviewer notes what Lyell says of the universal tendency to read among
the American laboring classes, and quotes some interesting facts, as
that one house published eighty thousand copies of Eugene Sue's
Wandering Jew, in various forms and at various prices. The same house
had sold forty thousand copies of Macaulay's History of England, at
the end of the first three months, at prices varying from fifty cents
to four dollars, while other houses had sold twenty thousand copies,
and this sale of sixty thousand copies while Longman was selling
fifteen thousand at one pound twelve shillings.
* * * * *
The Countess HAHN-HAHN, who for several years has occupied in German
literature a position corresponding to that of George Sand in France,
with whose views of life and society she strongly sympathized, and
whose "Faustina" and other works were republished here, has recently
become a Roman Catholic, as our readers will have seen, and has just
written the following letter to a Hamburg journal:
"To correct some misapprehension, I feel it to be my duty to
declare that the new edition of my complete works announced
by Alexander Duncker in Berlin is no new series, but an
edition with a new title. A new series of those writings
will never appear, as I no longer recognize as my own the
spirit in which they were written.
IDA, COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN."
* * * * *
DAVID COPPERFIELD has been translated into German, with the
peculiarities of speech of the different classes of characters
unattempted. Old Pegotty and Ham speak "pure Castilian." It is easy to
see how the dramatic character of the book is thus lost. Indeed,
Dickens is almost the only very famous English author who is not much
translated. The Battle of Life, one of the least valuable and
characteristic of his works, is well known upon the Continent, because
it was so easy to translate. But what can a descendant of Dante, for
instance, ever know of the drolleries of Sam Weller? Fancy a
_spiritual_ Frenchman trying to catch the fun of Pickwick!
* * * * *
Mr. Judd's _Richard Edney_ induces a German critic to say of him,
"This is a new English poet of the Carlyle and Emerson school, who,
inspired by the example of Jean Paul, turn the English language
topsy-turvy, and introduce a jargon that makes us satisfied with our
own romantic barbarism."
* * * * *
Mrs. S. C. HALL'S _Sorrows of Women_ has been also translated into
German, and is highly praised.
* * * * *
In Vienna, most of the recent publications have more or less relation
to affairs. There is very little of pure literature. M. de Zsedenyi,
one of the most capable Hungarian political writers, has published a
work entitled _Responsibility of the Cabinet and the State of
Hungary_. The author of _The Genesis of the Revolution_, (supposed to
be Count Hartig, who was a Minister without portfolio under Prince
Metternich) has again appeared before the public with 146 closely
printed pages of _Night Thoughts_, some of which had better never have
seen the light of day. A Mr. Schwarz has published a work advocating
"protection," and in it he spares neither England nor the Austrian
Minister of Commerce. Free trade notions have indeed been attacked in
a score of books by continental thinkers lately, and free trade
opinions seem to have received, throughout Europe, a most decided
check.
* * * * *
The late Prince VALDIMAR, of Russia, made three or four years ago a
journey to India, and besides taking part with the British army in
sundry engagements, occupied himself busily in investigating the
manners and customs of the people, the antiquities, history, and
natural productions of the country. He wrote an account of his
journey, and illustrated it with numerous drawings. His family is now
causing this to be printed and the drawings to be engraved, and in a
short time the work will be completed. Only three hundred copies are
to be struck off, and they are to be presented to royal and
illustrious personages. The getting up of the publication will cost
40,000 thalers.
* * * * *
M. LEON DE MONBEILLARD has written a little treatise upon the _Ethics
of Spinoza_, in which--being a spiritualist who admits the dogma of
the creation and of human personality--he is said to have refuted the
great philosopher, yet without calumniating or disfiguring his
doctrines, and with a constant admiration of all that is truly
admirable in Spinoza.
The work has not yet crossed the sea, but we cannot help thinking that
the colossal views of so great a mind are not to be entirely disproved
in the delicate dimensions of an "_opuscule_," as the able little
treatise of M. Montbeillard is called by the critics.
* * * * *
JOSEPH RUSSEGGER, imperial director of the mines at Schemnitz, has
published the results of five years' travel in Europe, Asia, and
Africa, comprising a universal scientific and artistic as well as
social and picturesque view of those countries. It is in four volumes,
very splendidly illustrated in all these departments, and is published
at a cost of forty dollars.
* * * * *
Dr. DAVID FRIEDRICH STRAUSS, the famous rationalist, has published a
work entitled _Christian Marklein_, a picture of life and character
from the present time, giving charming if not very new views of the
Wurtemberg theological schools.
* * * * *
In the _German Universities_, it appears from the census just taken,
with the exceptions of those of Koenigsberg, Kiel, and Rostock, the
numbers for which have not been officially returned, there were for
the last term on the registers 11,945 students. The universities may
be classed, according to the number of students at each, in this
order: Berlin, Munich, Bonn, Leipsic, Breslau, Tubingen, Goettingen,
Wurzburg, Halle, Heidelberg, Giessen, Erlangen, Friburg, Jena,
Marburg, Greifswalde. Berlin has 2,107 students, and Greifswalde only
189. The number studying the law is 3,973; of theological students,
2,539; pursuing the study of philosophy and philology, 2,357; medical
students, 2,146; and there are 549 engaged in political economy. Halle
reckons the greatest proportional number of theological students,
there being 330 out of a total of 597; Heidelberg has most students of
law; Wurzburg, most of medicine; and Jena, most students of theology.
The greatest numbers of foreign students are to be found at
Heidelberg, Gottingen, Jena, Wurzburg, and Leipsic.
* * * * *
The _Independence Belge_ gives an account of Frau Pfeiffer, a woman
who left Vienna several years ago to travel alone in the most distant
and unfrequented parts of the world. After visiting Palestine and
Egypt, Scandinavia and Iceland, she landed in Brazil, penetrated the
primitive forests, and lived among the natives; from Valparaiso she
traversed the Pacific to Otaheite, thence to China, Singapore, Ceylon,
Hindostan, to the caves of Adjunta and Ellora to Bombay, whence she
sailed up the Tigris, to Bagdad, and then entered upon the arduous
journey to Babylon, Nineveh, and into Kurdistan; and passing to the
Caucasus, she embarked for Constantinople, visiting Greece in her way
home to Germany. She is now in London, visiting the Great Exposition.
* * * * *
FERDINAND HILLER, Superintendent of the Cologne Musical Academy, and a
contemporary and friend of Mendelssohn, whom, in the beginning, it was
supposed he would surpass as a composer, has been recently in Paris,
renewing his old experiences. He saw there most of the famous literary
and artistic notabilities, and gossips pleasantly about them in the
_feuilleton_ of a German journal. He saw Henry Heine, whose body is
almost dead, but whose mind is as vigorous as ever. Hiller says that
Heine chatted with him about God and himself, of the King of Prussia,
and of Hiller--of the Frankfort Parliament and his own songs. Heine's
features, he says, are interesting, and even more beautiful than they
were formerly. The fallen cheeks leave the noble oval of the head and
the delicately chiselled nose mournfully apparent. The eyes are
closed. He can only see with the left, by elevating the lid with his
finger. He wears a close-trimmed beard, and his hair is as brown and
luxuriant as ever. The slim white hand is ideally beautiful. It
belongs, according to the doctrine of Carns, to the class of the
purely psychological. Heine had just written a song for a German
composer; and that no poet can sing more sweetly for music, the many
of his verses which Schubert has "married to immortal" tune
sufficiently indicate. Mendelssohn also composed the most dreamily
delicate music to Heine's "Moonlight on the Ganges."
Ingres, the painter, now seventy years old, the pride and model of the
severe classicists of the French school, is a comely old man, with
rich dark hair, luminous eye, and smooth brow. He is still light and
active in movement, and a genial serenity broods over his whole
character and manner. His love of music is no less enthusiastic than
that of a lover for his mistress. The great German composers are great
gods to Ingres. The remembrance of a beautiful sonata fills his eyes
with tears. Ingres has recently finished a portrait, which is not
inferior to any thing he has ever done.
Of musical men, Hiller saw Halevy, a successful composer and genial
companion, with a gentle strain of irony in his conversation. Hector
Berlioz has not grown to be fifty without some of the snowy tracks of
time, but the volcanic genius is still alive. His conversation is like
an eruption, now a burning lava-stream of glowing inspiration, now
sulphurous mockery and scorn, and now, wide-flying, a shower of sharp
stones of criticism. He tells the most laughable stories of his London
life, and his musical difficulties and experiences there. In Paris he
is only librarian of the "Conservatoire," and director of great
concerts.
Jules Janin, the sparkling "J. J." of the _Journal des Debats_, and
the grand seigneur of the Parisian _feuilletonistes_, leads the most
loitering, pleasant life, and grows merry and fat thereby. He sits
upon a luxurious ottoman, wrapped in a gorgeous _robe de chambre_, by
the fire-place of his beautifully adorned study, and there among his
books and bijoux of taste and art, gives audience to all the world. He
has visits without end. He gives instruction and advice, hears all
that every body has to say, applauds extravagantly, as he writes, all
things in this world and some more, until it is time to go to dinner,
or to see a new vaudeville. He has beside a beautiful wife, and
suffers with the gout. Could his cup be fuller?
The poet Beranger, too, who seems to Hiller the songfullest of
song-writers, charmed him by the gravity, and sweetness, and nobility
of his character. Beranger received him quietly at Passy, near Paris,
where he resides, a hale old man of more than seventy years. His hair
is white, but his face has the freshness of blooming health. In his
features there is a remarkable blending of geniality and intelligent
sharpness. They are largely moulded, and their general expression is
as generous, fine, and graceful as his verses. The perfect simplicity
of his household is very striking. The only hints of any luxury are
some medallion portraits, among which Hiller observed Napoleon and
Lamartine. Yet this severity is so evidently the result of taste and
not of poverty, that it has no unpleasant effect. The beauty and
richness of his conversation filled his visitor with the greatest
regret that he could not record it all. His first great remembrance is
the destruction of the Bastille. His essay in literature was by the
songs which circulated universally in manuscript before they were
printed. But his literary ambition was toward works of great scope and
extent, and it was not until after thirty years of age that he felt
distinctly what he could do best. Of his songs he said, "I present to
myself a song, as a great composition--I sketch a complete plan,
beginning, middle, and end, and make the refrain the quintessence of
the whole."
While Beranger was finding a letter, he opened a drawer, in which
Hiller saw scraps of song and sketches of poems, which he longed to
seize, as a wistful boy would grab at the money piles in a banker's
window. The following is the letter in which Beranger speaks of the
Marseillaise:
"I thank you, Madame, for the pleasant letter which you
addressed to me. It has revealed to me a noble heart, and
although I do not believe such hearts as rare as many say,
it is always a fair fortune to meet them.
"What you say of the Marseillaise is entirely just. But
remember, Madame, that it is the people itself, which always
selects its songs, words, and melodies, uninfluenced by any
one in the world. Once made, this choice endures, with
authority even among the later generations, whose experience
would not have made it.
"I have often enough thought about a new song of the kind,
but I am too old now, and the circumstances of the time have
robbed my voice of power. You, Madame, saw the true thought
of the song which should be now sung, and I lament that you
find the poetical harness not flexible enough for it.
"As to your remarks upon my new songs, I must say that I
trouble myself as little about the destiny of my younger
daughters as about that of their elder sisters. And I am
surprised that you speak to me of a Lierman, who should have
known me. Excuse, Madame, my delay in acknowledging and
thanking you for your letter, and believe me your devoted,
BERANGER."
* * * * *
A recent Italian translation of the _Diplomats and Diplomacy of
Italy_, which first appeared in Professor Von Raumer's _Pocket Book_
for 1841, contains three hitherto unprinted MSS. from the Venetian
archives. They are curious and interesting, as indicating the strict
surveillance which the republic maintained, by means of its
ambassadors, over the whole world of the period.
* * * * *
MR. WILLIS'S _Hurry-Graphs_ have a French rival in the _Pensees d'un
Emballeur_, by M. Commerson, chief editor of the _Tintamarre_ (Paris
journal.) They are called fantastic, original and forcible.
* * * * *
A work to create some surprise, coming from Spain, is the _Persecution
of the Spanish Protestants by Philip the Second_, by Don ADOLPHO DE
CASTRO. The name of Castro is honorably distinguished in Spanish
literature. The present author is a grandson, we believe, of Rodriguez
de Castro, who wrote the BIBLIOTECA ESPANOLA. He displays abilities
and a temper suitable for the task he attempted; he has joined to
careful and intelligent research a bravery of characterization which
quite relieves his work from the censures which belong to most Spanish
compositions of its class. That he could print in Madrid a work in
which statecraft and ecclesiastical persecutions are so frankly dealt
with, is a fact of more significance than a dozen such revolutions as
have vexed the slumbers of other states. In Spain, above all
countries, the spread of a taste for historical studies must be
regarded as pregnant with important consequences. It shows that the
barriers of ignorance and self-conceit, which have so long isolated
that country from the rest of Europe, are beginning to be effectually
broken down. To the common Protestant reader, indeed, De Castro's work
will appear studiously moderate, or perhaps timid. But it should be
remembered that it was written for a public which is four or five
centuries behind our own, in all that constitutes true liberty and
enlightenment; and what would appear most gratuitous cowardice here
may easily enough be remarkable courage in Spain. To speak in favor of
Protestantism at all, still more to become the biographer of the
Protestant martyrs, is an undertaking which demands from a Spaniard,
even of the present day, no ordinary amount of resolution. And we
should be by no means surprised to hear that De Castro has been, in
one way or another, made to pay some penalty of his rash enterprise.
That it is both a dangerous and an unpopular one is manifest from the
caution with which historical as well as religious topics are treated.
Compiling what we cannot better characterize than as a Spanish
supplement to Fox's "Book of Martyrs," the author nowhere professes
himself a Protestant. And the slow and gradual way in which he unmasks
the character of Philip II., shows how haughty and sensitive are the
public whom he has undertaken to disabuse of a portion of the
inveterate pride and prejudice which they nourish on all subjects
affecting their church or their country. On the whole, however, though
the Protestant reader will occasionally desiderate a little more
warmth and indignation when chronicling such atrocities, we should say
that the book rather gains than loses by this studied moderation both
in tone and opinions. It certainly gains in dignity and
impressiveness; and it is vastly better adapted to make its way with
the author's countrymen, than if he had betrayed at the outset a
sectarian bias, which would have revolted them, before they had time
to make acquaintance with the sad and sanguinary events of which he is
the historian. The ground gone over is necessarily much the same as in
M'Crie's _History of the Reformation in Spain_, a work which possibly
suggested the undertaking, and to which De Castro gives due credit for
learning and ability. His advantage over the Scottish historian
consists in his command of a variety of documents in print and in
manuscript, to which access could be had only in Spain, especially the
publications of the Spanish reformers themselves, which are
exceedingly rare in consequence of the pains taken to destroy them by
the Inquisition. The most remarkable result obtained by De Castro's
researches, and the feature in his work for which he claims the
greatest credit is the new light he has thrown on the history of Don
Carlos. But unfortunately the question as to the Protestantism of that
prince remains in much the same obscurity as before. His having been
tainted by heretical opinions would aid certainly in accounting for
his father's malignity towards him; but otherwise there seems to be no
proof of the fact; and our own opinion is, that his tolerant views as
to the treatment of the Flemish provinces were misconstrued into bias
towards Protestant doctrines. The inference relied on by De Castro and
others, that if he had remained Catholic he must have shared his
father's extravagant bigotry, is lame. Don Carlos did no more than
follow the usual course of heirs apparent when he disapproved of his
father's tyranny; and his sympathies with Aragon are not less marked
than those with Flanders.
* * * * *
LONGWORTH, who distinguished himself in the Hungarian troubles, is
writing a history of them. There is promise of so many books upon the
subject that we shall be able to find out nothing about it. By the
way, we wonder that no one has yet chosen for a motto to place upon
his title-page, this sentence, which Lord Bolingbroke wrote more than
a hundred years ago:
"_I mean to speak of the troubles in Hungary. Whatever they
become in their progress, they were caused originally by the
usurpations and persecutions of the emperor. And when the
Hungarians were called rebels first, they were called so for
no other reason than this, that they would not be slaves_."
It is from his _Letters on History_, and occurs where he has been
speaking of the hostility of foreign powers to Austria.
* * * * *
A PENNY MAGAZINE, in the Bengalese language, is to be established in
Calcutta, under the editorship of Baboo Rajendralal Mittra, the
librarian of the Asiatic Society. It is to be illustrated by
electrotypes executed in England, of woodcuts which have already
appeared in the _Penny Magazine_, the _Saturday Magazine_, and the
_Illustrated News_.
* * * * *
A NATIVE of India has translated the tragedy of _Othello_ into
Bengalee Othello's cognomen in the Oriental version is Moor Bahadoor
(General Moor).
* * * * *
IN ITALY, at Turin and Florence, a great number of valuable works have
been issued, illustrative of the recent revolutions. They do not claim
to be histories, for history is impossible, while events are
contemporary and cannot be contemplated from a universal point of
principle and analysis. But these volumes are what the French with
their happy facility would call studies for history. They are the
material from which the great historic artists must compose their
pictures--they are the diary of the movement--they follow all the
changes of the time, hopeful or despondent, with the fidelity and
closeness of an Indian upon the trail. We have seen several of these
publications, and hope ere many months to see a treatise upon the
republican movement in Europe from a pen well able to sketch it, and
which is fed by ink which is never for a moment red.
The largest and most important of these works is that of M. Gualterio,
just published in Florence, which comprises several letters of the
Austrian lackey, Francis IV., Duke of Modenas, and throws light upon
many of the darkest passages of the dark Austria-Italico policy. Among
other letters, also, one of the most remarkable is that of the
Cardinal Gonsalvi, well known as the able and humane Prime Minister of
Pius VII., and to whose memory there is now upon the walls of St.
Peter's a monument by Thorwaldsen, of which a statue of the Cardinal
is part. This letter speaks of the miserable conduct of the political
trials, and "justice," he says, "charity, the most ordinary decency
demands that all humanity shall not be so trampled under foot. What
will the English and French journals say--not the Austrian, when they
learn of this massacre of the innocents." This was thirty years ago.
But at this moment, were there an able and humane minister at the
Vatican, how truly might he repeat Gonsalvi's words!
It is in works like these, and in the journals and pamphlets published
during the intensity of the struggle, that the still-surviving Italian
genius, which it has been so long the northern policy to smother and
repress, betrayed itself. Nor among these works, as striking another
key, ought we to omit the Souvenirs of the War of Lombardy by M. de
Talleyrand-Perigord. Duke of Dino--and the history of the Revolution
of Rome by Alphonse Balleydier. The Souvenirs are devoted to the glory
of the unhappy King Charles Albert, the dupe of his own vanity and the
victim of his own weakness.
Upon the pages of M. le Duc de Dino, however, he blazes very
brilliantly as a martyr--martyr of a cause hopeless even in the first
flush of success--martyr of an army without enthusiasm, of a
liberalism without freedom or heroism. The English royalists, the
reader will remember, were fond of the same title for the unhappy
Charles I.
In M. Balleydier's history of the Roman revolution, Rossi is the
central figure, in whose fate there was something extremely heroic,
because he had received information, just as he quitted the Pope's
palace to go to the assembly, from a priest who had heard it in
confidence, that he was to be attacked, and he must have known the
Italian, and especially the Roman character, sufficiently to have felt
assured of his fate. After hearing the priest, Rossi said to him
calmly: "I thank you, Monseigneur, the cause of the Pope is the cause
of God," and stepping into his carriage drove to the palace of the
Cancelleria, at whose door he fell dead, by a stroke that wounded much
more mortally the cause which condemned him, than the cause he
espoused.
* * * * *
With all our waste of money, and continual boasts of encouraging
individual merit, we have not yet a single pension in this country
except to homicides. "They manage these things better in France." A
return just published in the official _Moniteur_, shows that one
department of the government, that of Public Instruction, distributes
the following pensions to literary persons: five of from $400 to $480
a year; nine of $300 to $360; twenty-nine of $200 to $240; thirty-four
of $120 to $180; and fifteen of $40 to $100. To the widows and
families of deceased authors, two of $400 to $450; six of $300 to
$360; seventeen of $200 to $240; twenty-five of $120 to $180; and
thirty-one of $40 to $100. In addition to this, it may be mentioned,
that the same department distributes a large sum annually, under the
title of "Encouragements," to authors in temporary distress, or
engaged in works of literary importance and but small pecuniary
profit. It also awards several thousands to learned societies, for
literary and scientific missions, purchases of books, &c. The
department of the Interior gives $2,500 a year in subscriptions to
different works, and nearly $30,000 for "indemnities and assistance to
authors." The other departments of the government also employ
considerable sums in purchasing books, and in otherwise encouraging
literary men. It is said indeed to be no unusual thing for an author,
laboring under temporary inconvenience, to apply for a few hundred,
or, in some cases, thousand francs, and they are almost always
awarded. No shame whatever is attached to the application, and no very
extraordinary credit to the gift. Surely, France must be a Paradise
for authors.
* * * * *
A BOOKSELLER in Paris announces: "Reflections upon my conversations
with the Duke de la Vauguyon, by Louis-Augustus Dauphin, (Louis XVI.,)
accompanied by a fac simile of the MS., and with an introduction by M.
FALLOUX, formerly Minister of Public Instruction." Falloux is a
churchman of the stamp of Montalembert. We are apt to doubt the
genuineness of these luckily discovered MSS. of eminent persons. We
have no more faith in this case than we had in that of the Napoleon
novels, mentioned in the last _International_.
* * * * *
The late M. De BALZAC, who, besides being one of the cleverest writers
of the age, was a brilliant man of society, and a very notorious
_roue_, left, it appears, voluminous memoirs, to be printed without
erasure or addition, and his friends are much alarmed by the prospect
of their appearance. It is said that his custom of extorting letters
from his friends upon any subject at issue, under pretence of
possessing an imperfect memory, and his method of classing them, will
render his memoirs one of the completest scandalous _tableaux_ of the
nineteenth century that could ever be presented to the contemplation
of another age. Opposition to the publication has already been
offered, but without success, and the princess-widow is busily engaged
with the preparations for printing, intending to have the memoirs
before the world early in June. They extend minutely over more than
twenty years.
* * * * *
M. E. QUINET, who was long associated with Michelet, in the College of
France, and who is known as a writer by his _Alemagne et Italie,
Ultramontanisme, Vacances en Espagne_, etc. has published in Paris
_L'Enseignement du Peuple_. "On the 24th day of February, 1848," he
says, "a social miracle places in the hands of France the control of
its destiny. France, openly consulted, replies by taking up a position
in the scale of nations between Portugal and Naples. There must be a
cause of this voluntary servitude; the object of these pages is to
discover this cause, and, if possible, to protect futurity against the
effects of its operation." This is the problem he proposes to solve,
and he concludes that the important secret is in the fact, that the
"national religion is in direct contradiction with the national
revolution." "Chained by the circumstance of its religion to the
middle ages, France believes that it can march onward to the end of a
career opened to it solely because of its protest against every great
principle of government which those ages held sacred." He has worked
ten years, he tells us, to demonstrate two things: The first, that
catholic states are all perishing; the second, that no political
liberty can be realized in those states. "I have shown," he continues,
"Italy the slave of all Europe, Spain a slave within, Portugal a slave
within and without, Ireland a slave to England, Poland a slave to
Russia, Bohemia, Hungary, slaves of Austria--Austria herself, the
mother of all slavery, a slave to Russia. Looking for similar proofs
out of Europe, I have shown in America, on the one hand, the
increasing greatness of the heretical United States; on the other
hand, the slavery of the catholic democracies and monarchies of the
south: _in the former a_ WASHINGTON, _in the second a_ ROSAS." M.
Quinet considers that the only remedy applicable to an evil of this
magnitude is the utter separation of church and state. Leave but the
slightest connection between the two, and the former will inevitably
overpower the latter. The one is a compact, organized, single-minded
body; the other is scattered, loosely put together, swayed to and fro
by every change in the political atmosphere, and can offer no
resistance that is sufficient to oppose the steady, unremittent
attacks of its enemy. The two, therefore, must not be placed in
collision. The very indifference manifested towards the national
religion by the great bulk of the French people is the cause why so
much danger is to be apprehended from the efforts of the church.
Because a religion is dead, says M. Quinet, there is the danger. A
living religion, like that of the puritans, may certainly mould the
government into a despotic form, but it communicates to it, at least,
a portion of its own power and energy, whilst a dead religion
infallibly occasions death to the state and to the people with which
it is politically and organically united. He argues the whole subject
with eloquent force, and with not a little of the earnestness which
reminds the reader of his personal controversies with the Roman
Catholic Church.
* * * * *
A history of _Marie Stuart_, by I. M. Dargaud, has just been published
in Paris, and for its brilliancy, completeness, clearness, and
impartiality, attracts much attention. Queen Mary of Scotland was one
of the famously beautiful women whose history is romance. She must be
named with the heroines of history and the figures of poetry, with
Helen, and Aspasia, and Cleopatra. Certainly, we trace no more
sparkling and sorrowful career than hers upon the confused page of
history, and our admiration, condemnation, surprise, sorrow and
delight, fall, summed in a tear, upon her grave. In this work it
appears that she was undoubtedly privy to the death of Darnley. During
his assassination, she was dancing at Holyrood. The fearful
fascination of a brigand like Bothwell, for so proud and passionate a
nature as Mary's, is well explained by M. Dargaud. He is just, also,
to her own tragedy, the long and bitter suffering, the betrayal of
friends; the final despair, and the laying aside two crowns to mount
the scaffold. She died nobly, and as most of the illustrious victims
of history have died; as if nature, unwilling that they should live,
would yet compassionately show the world in their ending, that heroism
and nobility were not altogether unknown to them.
_Apropos_ of this history of Queen Mary, Lamartine has written a
letter to Beranger, which praises the work exceedingly, but much more
glorifies himself. The letter is a perfect specimen of that vanity,
wherein only Lamartine is sublime: "Ah! if you or I had had such a
heroine at twenty years, what epic poems and what songs would have
been the result!"
* * * * *
THE COUNT MONTALEMBERT, the fervid champion of Catholicism in the
French chamber, has just published a work, entitled _The higher and
lower Radicalism: in its enmity to Religion, Right, Freedom and
Justice, in France, Switzerland and Italy_.
* * * * *
Although M. GUIZOT appears to be as busily engaged as ever in
politics, the advertisements of the booksellers would induce a belief
that his whole attention is given to literary studies. He has just
published _Etudes Biographiques sur la Revolution de l'Angleterre_,
which, with his sketch of General Monk, he says, "form a sort of
gallery of portraits of the English Revolution, in which personages of
the most different characters appear together--chiefs or champions of
sects or parties, parliamentarians, cavaliers, republicans, levellers,
who, either at the end of the political conflicts in which they were
engaged, or when in retirement towards the close of their lives,
resolved to describe themselves, their own times, and the part they
played therein. In the drawing together of such men," he adds, "and in
the mixture of truth and vanity which characterize such works, there
is, if I do not deceive myself, sufficient to interest persons of
serious and curious minds, especially among us and in these times; for
in spite of the profound diversity of manners, contemporary
comparisons and applications will present themselves at every step,
whatever may be the pains taken not to seek them." The studies here
collected we suppose are not new; they are doubtless the articles
which the author contributed to the _Biographie Universelle_ and other
works before he became a minister--perhaps, as in the cases of his
"Monk" and "Washington," with scarcely a word of alteration. The work
is, however, interesting. The period of English history to which it
refers has been profoundly studied by Guizot, and it would probably be
impossible to select a mode of treating it that would admit of more
effective or attractive delineation. The life of Ludlow appears as the
first of the series.
* * * * *
French Literature tends in a remarkable degree towards monarchical
institutions. Guizot and his associates publicly advocate the
Restoration. M. Cousin has published a new argument against
Republicanism, and M. Romieu, whose curious book, which men doubted
whether to receive as a jest or an earnest argument, _The Era of the
Caesars_--in which he declared his belief that the true and only law
for France is _force_--is before the public again, in a volume
entitled _Le Spectre Rouge de 1852_. He predicts the subversion of all
order, and such terrible scenes as have never been witnessed even in
France, unless some one bold, resolute, scorning all "constitutional"
figments, and relying solely on his soldiers--some one who shall say
_L'etat c'est moi!_ shall save France. A Cromwell, a Francia, or in
default of such Louis Napoleon--any one who will constitute himself an
autocrat, will become the saviour of France!
* * * * *
The COUNT DE JARNAC, formerly secretary and _charge d'affaires_ of the
French embassy in London, has published a novel which is well spoken
of, entitled the _Dernier d'Egmont_.
* * * * *
A French traveller in upper Egypt has collected for the Parisian
Ethnological Museum copies of many curious inscriptions upon the walls
of the great temple of Philae. Among others, there is the modern one of
Dessaix, which the Parisians think "reflects the grandiose simplicity
of the Republic." "The sixth year of the Republic, the thirteenth
Messidor, a French army commanded by Bonaparte descended upon
Alexandria; twenty days after, the army having routed the Mamelukes at
the Pyramids, Dessaix, commanding the first division, pursued them
beyond the Cataracts, where he arrived the thirteenth Ventose of the
year seven, with Brigadier-Generals Davoust, Friant, and Belliard.
Donzelot, chief of the staff, La Tournerie, commanding the artillery,
Eppler, Chief of the twenty-first Light Infantry. The thirteenth
Ventose, year seven of the Republic, third March, year of J.C., 1799.
Engraved by Casteix." The last date, however, strikes us as a base
compromise to the _temporal_ prejudices of the world, on the part of
the author of this "simple and grandiose" inscription.
* * * * *
M. de Saint Beauve has published in Paris some hitherto inedited MSS.
of MIRABEAU, consisting of _Dialogues_ between the great orator and
the celebrated Sophie (Madame de Monnier), written when Mirabeau was
confined in the fortress of Vincennes, principally, it seems, from the
pleasure he had in reflecting on the object of his passion. He gives
an account of their first meeting, the growth of their love, and their
subsequent adventures, in the language, no doubt, as well as he could
recollect, that had passed between them, in conversation or in
letters. There is not much that is absolutely new in these papers, or
that throws any peculiar light on Mirabeau's character, but nothing
could have been written by him which is without a certain interest,
especially upon the subject of these _Dialogues_. Circulating-library
people had always a morbid desire to see illustrious personages while
under the influence of the tender passion.
* * * * *
_Progression Constante de la Democratie pendant soixante ans_, is the
title of a new Parisian brochure well noticed. Of the same character
is the _Le Mont-Saint-Michel_, by Martin Bernard, a serial publication
devoted to the details of the sufferings of Democratic martyrs. The
author is now in exile, having shown himself too republican for the
present Republic.
* * * * *
Victor Hugo's paper, _L'Evenement_, says of Louis Philippe's Gallery
at the Palais Royal, which the heirs now wish to sell, that it has two
paintings of Gericault's, the Chasseur and the Cuirassier, and that
they symbolize the two phases of the Empire, victorious France and the
Invasion. He hopes, therefore, that they will not be permitted to go
out of France.
* * * * *
William Howitt is writing a life of George Fox.
* * * * *
Mr. Ticknor's _History of Spanish Literature_ is reviewed in _La Revue
des Deux Mondes_ by PROSPER MERIMEE, of whose recent travels in the
United States we have had occasion to speak once or twice in _The
International_. M. Merimee is the author of a _Life of Peter the
Cruel_, of which a translation has been published within a few months
by Bentley in London, and he professes to be thoroughly acquainted
with Spanish literature, from a loving study of it while residing in
Spain. Perhaps he had some thought of writing its history himself; he
certainly seems to bestow unwillingly the praises he is compelled to
give Mr. Ticknor, whose extraordinary merits he however distinctly
admits. "The writer of this History," he says, "has gone into immense
researches; he has applied himself deeply and conscientiously to the
Castilian language and the Spanish authors: he has read, he has
examined, every thing that the English, French, and Germans, had
published on this subject. He possessed an advantage over the critics
of old Europe--that of being able to treat literary questions without
mixing up with them recollections of national rivalries." He concludes
his article by saying, "This work is an inestimable repertory; it must
be eminently useful in a library. It comprises very good biographical
notices of the Spanish authors, and numerous abstracts which obviate
the necessity of reference to the original authorities. The
translations, which are copious, are executed with surpassing taste,
to afford an idea of the style of the Spanish poets. Thanks to the
flexibility of the English language, and the ability or command of the
author in using it, the translations are of signal fidelity and
elegance. The rhythm, the flow, the idiomatic grace and _curiosa
felicitas_, are rendered in the most exact and the happiest manner."
* * * * *
By a letter in the London _Times_, signed ERNESTO SUSANNI, it appears
that M. LIBRI may be a very much wronged person. The readers of the
_International_ will remember his trial, a few months ago, and his
condemnation to ten years' imprisonment (in default of judgment), and
deprivation of the various high offices he held, for having, as was
alleged, stolen from the Mazarine Library, besides others, the
following volumes: _Petrarca, gli Triomphi_, 1475: Bologna, in folio;
_Pamphyli poetae lepidissimi Epigrammatum libri quatuor; Faccio degli
Uberti, opera chiamata Ditta Munde Venezia_, 1501, quarto; _Phalaris
Epistole, traducte del Latino da Bartol: Fontio_, 1471, quarto;
_Dante, Convivio_: Florence, 1490, quarto; &c. M. Susanni alleges that
the learned bibliographer, M. Silvestre, has discovered in the
Mazarine Library that, contrary to the very circumstantial affirmation
of the deed of accusation, the above-mentioned books _are still in
their places on the shelves of that library_, from which they have
never been absent, and where any one may go and see them, and verify
the fact for himself. The persons employed to draw up the charges
against M. Libri never appeared to understand that two different
editions of a work were totally different things, and they have
accused M. Libri of having stolen a work from a public library, simply
because M. Libri possessed an edition of that work, though different
from the one the library had lost, or, better still, which it had
never lost at all. Considering all the circumstances, and the
attention which was attracted to the case throughout the learned
world, this is very curious: it will form one of the most remarkable
of the _causes celebres_.
* * * * *
The new Paris review, _La Politique Nouvelle_, starts bravely its
career as a rival of _La Revue des Deux Mondes_. The leading article,
"La Constitution, c'est l'order," is by M. Marie, who was one of the
chiefs of the Provisional Government, and Henri Martin, Gustave
Cazavan, and Paul Rochery, are among the contributors; but the best
attraction of the work to those who do not care for its politics, is
the beginning of a charming novel by Madame Charles Reybaud, the
authoress of Tales of the Old Convents of Paris.
* * * * *
Lamartine's reputation declines with every new attempt of his at
money-making. There was never a man capable of doing well a half of
what he advertises. He is writing a romance on the destruction of the
Janizaries, for the _Pays_, another romance for the _Siecle_, and
occasionally gives _feuilletons_ to other journals; he is re-editing a
complete edition of his own works, writing a history of the
Restoration, and a history of Turkey, and has lately begun to edit a
daily paper. He also continues the monthly pamphlet, of between thirty
and forty pages, the _Conseiller du Peuple_, on political matters, and
produces once a month a periodical, _Les Foyers du Peuple_, in which
he gives an account of his travels, with tales and verses.
* * * * *
The Paris correspondent of the London _Literary Gazette_ states, that
an Assyrian, named FURIS SCHYCYAC, is at present attracting some
attention in the literary circles. He had just arrived from London,
where, it appears, he translated the Bible into Arabic, for one of the
religious associations. He has accompanied his _debut_ in
Parisian society with a _mudh_, or poem, to Paris, in which he almost
out-Orientals the Orientals in his exaggerated compliments and
gorgeous imagery. Paris, he declares, amongst other things, is the
"terrestrial paradise," the "_sejour_ of houris," and "Eden;" whilst
the people are, _par excellence_, "the strong, the generous, the
brave, the sincere-hearted, with no faults to diminish their virtues."
This master-stroke has opened the Parisian circles to the cunning
Assyrian.
* * * * *
M. Leroux has published in Paris a volume of Reminiscences of Travel
and Residence in the United States, with observations on the
Administration of Justice in this country.
* * * * *
The last _Edinburgh Review_ has an article on COUSIN, in which a
general survey is taken of his life and of his works, of which he has
just completed the publication of a new edition. The _London Leader_
says that the critic ingeniously represents all Cousin's plagiarisms
as the consequences of the progressive and _assimilative_ intellect of
the eclectic chief; that it would be easy with the same facts to tell
a very different story; and correct the reviewer's "mistake," where he
talks of Cousin as the translator of Plato. Cousin's name is on the
title-page; but not one dialogue, the _Leader_ avers, did he
translate; it even doubts his ability to translate one. What he did
was to take old translations by De Grow and others, here and there
polishing the style; and the dialogues that were untranslated he gave
to certain clever young men in want of employment and glad of his
patronage. He touched up their style and wrote the Preface to each
Dialogue, for which the work bears his name! _This_ explains the
puzzling fact that the translator of Plato should so completely
misunderstand the purpose of the dialogue he is prefacing. Gigantic
indeed would be the labors of Cousin--if he performed them himself.
* * * * *
Walter Savage Landor is now seventy-six years of age. He writes no
more great works, but he is hardly less industrious than a
penny-a-liner in writing upon all sorts of subjects for the journals.
We find his communications almost every week in _The Examiner_, _The
News_, _The Leader_, _Leigh Hunt's Journal_, and other periodicals.
Sometimes he rises to his earlier eloquence, and we hear the voice
that was loudest and sweetest in the "Imaginary Conversations;" but
for the most part his newspaper pieces are feeble and splenetic,
unworthy of him. One of his latest composures has relation to Lord
Lyndhurst, by whose speech against the revolutionary aliens in England
had been excited the ire of the old poet. "In your paper of this day,
April 12," he writes to the editor of _The Examiner_, "I find repeated
an expression of Lord Lyndhurst's, which I am certain will be
offensive to many of your readers. General Klapka, a man illustrious
for his military knowledge, and for his application of it to the
defence of his country and her laws, is contemptuously called _one_
Klapka. The most obscure and the most despicable (and those only) are
thus designated. Surely to have been called by the acclamations of a
whole people to defend the most important of its fortresses is quite
as exalted a distinction as to be appointed a Lord Chamberlain or a
Lord Chancellor by the favor of one minister, and liable to be
dismissed the next morning by another. With all proper respect for the
cleverness of Lord Lyndhurst, I must entreat your assistance in
discovering one sentence he ever wrote, or spoke, denoting the man of
lofty genius or capacious mind. Memorable things he certainly has
said--such as calling by the name of aliens a third part of our
fellow-subjects in these islands, and by the prefix of a _certain_ to
the name of Klapka. It is strange that sound law should not always be
sound sense; strange that the great seal of equity should make so
faint and indistinct an impression. Klapka will be commemorated and
renowned in history as one beloved by the people, venerated by the
nobility; whose voice was listened to attentively by the magistrate,
enthusiastically by the soldier. The fame of Lord Lyndhurst is
ephemeral, confined to the Court of Chancery and the House of Peers;
dozens have shared it in each, and have gone to dinner and oblivion.
Those, and those alone, are great men whose works or words are
destined to be the heirlooms of many generations. God places them
where time passes them without erasing their footsteps. Kings can
never make them. They, if minded so, could more easily make kings.
England hath installed one Chancellor who might have been consummately
great, had there only been in his composition the two simple elements
of generosity and honesty. Bacon did not hate freedom, or the friends
of freedom; and, although he cautiously kept clear of so dangerous a
vicinity, he never came voluntarily forth, invoking the vindictive
spirit of a dead law to eliminate them in the hour of adversity from
their sanctuary."
* * * * *
The Rev. Moses Margoliouth, who was once a Jew, and who last year
published a narrative of a journey to Palestine, under the title of "A
Visit to the Land of My Fathers," has just given to the world, in
three octavos, a _History of the Jews in Great Britain_. The book is
insufferably tame and feeble; the author is of the class called in
England "religious flunkies:" a mastiff to the poor and a spaniel to
the proud. His first book was disgusting for its feebleness and
servility, and this is scarcely better, notwithstanding the richness
of its materials and the curious interest of its subject. A good
History of the Jews in England will be a work worth reading.
* * * * *
The _Ecclesiastical History Society_ have published in London
_Strype's Memorials of Cranmer_, _Heylyn's History of the
Reformation_, and _Field's Treatise of the Church_. Strype and Heylyn
are more familiar than Field, whose work is a sort of supplement to
Hooker's _Polity_. Field resembled his illustrious master and friend
in judgment, temper, and learning. In his own day his reputation was
great. James I. regretted, when he heard of his death, that he had not
done more for him; Hall, in reference to his own deanery of Worcester,
which had been sought for Field, speaks of that "better-deserving
divine," who "was well satisfied with greater hopes;" and Fuller, with
his accustomed humor of thoughtfulness, bestows his salutation on
"that learned divine whose memory smelleth like a _field_ that the
Lord hath blessed."
* * * * *
THE LIFE OF WORDSWORTH, by Dr. Christopher Wordsworth, has appeared in
London, and with some additions by Professor Henry Reed, of
Philadelphia, will soon be issued by Ticknor, Reed & Fields, of
Boston. From what the critics write of it we suspect it is a poor
affair. The _Leader_ says that, "all things considered, it is perhaps
the worst biographical attempt" it "ever waded through." The
_Examiner_ and other leading papers admit its dulness as a biography,
and its worthlessness in criticism, but claim for it a certain value
as a collection of facts respecting the histories of Wordsworth's
different poems. The work indeed professes to be no more than a
biographical commentary on the poet's writings. It does not even
affect to be critical, or to offer any labored exposition of the
principles on which Wordsworth's poems were composed. The author
describes his illustrious relative as having had no desire that any
such disquisition should be written. "He wished that his poems should
stand by themselves, and plead their own cause before the tribunal of
posterity." Strictly, then, the volumes are so exclusively subordinate
and ministerial to the poetry they illustrate, that apart from the
latter they possess hardly any interest. By enthusiasts for the poems
they will be eagerly read, but to any other class of readers we cannot
see that they present attraction. Dr. Wordsworth's part in them,
though small, is not particularly well done; and the poet's part
almost exclusively consists of personal memoranda connected with his
poems dictated in later life, and seldom by any chance refers to any
thing but himself.
Nevertheless there are in the volumes many delightful and
characteristic details, much genuine and beautiful criticism (chiefly
in the poet's letters), and occasional passages of fine sentiment and
pure philosophy. Here is Wordsworth's own description of one of his
latest visits to London, and of his appearance at court, in a letter
to an American correspondent:
"My absence from home lately was not of more than three weeks. I took
the journey to London solely to pay my respects to the Queen, upon my
appointment to the laureateship upon the decease of my friend Mr.
Southey. The weather was very cold, and I caught an inflammation in
one of my eyes, which rendered my stay in the south very
uncomfortable. I nevertheless did, in respect to the object of my
journey, all that was required. The reception given me by the Queen at
her ball was most gracious. Mrs. Everett, the wife of your minister,
among many others, was a witness to it, without knowing who I was. It
moved her to the shedding of tears. This effect was in part produced,
I suppose, by American habits of feeling, as pertaining to a
republican government. To see a gray-haired man of seventy-five years
of age, kneeling down in a large assembly to kiss the hand of a young
woman, is a sight for which institutions essentially democratic do not
prepare a spectator of either sex, and must naturally place the
opinions upon which a republic is founded, and the sentiments which
support it, in strong contrast with a government based and upheld as
ours is. I am not, therefore, surprised that Mrs. Everett was moved,
as she herself described to persons of my acquaintance, among others
to Mr. Rogers the poet. By the by, of this gentleman, now I believe in
his eighty-third year, I saw more than of any other person except my
host, Mr. Moxon, while I was in London. He is singularly fresh and
strong for his years, and his mental faculties (with the exception of
his memory a little) not at all impaired. It is remarkable that he and
the Rev. W. Bowles were both distinguished as poets when I was a
schoolboy, and they have survived almost all their eminent
contemporaries, several of whom came into notice long after them.
Since they became known, Burns, Cowper, Mason the author of
'Caractacus' and friend of Gray, have died. Thomas Warton, Laureate,
then Byron, Shelley, Keats, and a good deal later Scott, Coleridge,
Crabbe, Southey, Lamb, the Ettrick Shepherd, Cary the translator of
Dante, Crowe the author of 'Lewesdon Hill,' and others of more or less
distinction, have disappeared. And now of English poets advanced in
life, I cannot recall any but James Montgomery, Thomas Moore, and
myself, who are living, except the octogenarian with whom I began. I
saw Tennyson, when I was in London, several times. He is decidedly the
first of our living poets, and I hope will live to give the world
still better things. You will be pleased to hear that he expressed in
the strongest terms his gratitude to my writings. To this I was far
from indifferent, though persuaded that he is not much in sympathy
with what I should myself most value in my attempts, viz., the
spirituality with which I have endeavored to invest the material
universe, and the moral relations under which I have wished to exhibit
its most ordinary appearances."
Of the mention of Alfred Tennyson in the foregoing extract the
_Examiner_ remarks, that it is perhaps the greatest stretch of
appreciation or acknowledgment in regard to any living or contemporary
poet in Wordsworth. His mention of Southey's verses is always reserved
and dry. He takes no pains to conceal his poor opinion of Scott's. His
allusions to Rogers are respectful, but cold. His objection to Byron
may be forgiven. There is less reason for his appearing quite to lose
his ordinarily calm temper when Goethe is even named, or for his
extending this unreasoning dislike to Goethe's great English
expositor, Carlyle. Yet we must not omit, on the other hand, what he
says of Shelley. Shelley, he admits (much to our surprise), to have
been "one of the best artists of us all; I mean in workmanship of
style."
* * * * *
The London _Standard of Freedom_ remarks of the article on "Some
American Poets" in the last number of _Blackwood_, that "it assumes
more ignorance in England as to American poetry than actually exists."
Our readers will readily believe this when advised that the critic
regards _Longfellow_ as a greater poet than Bryant! whom he classes
with Mrs. Hemans.
* * * * *
M. COMTE has quitted metaphysics to reform the calendar, but probably
will not succeed better than those who attempted the same thing during
the first French revolution. We find a synopsis of his scheme in the
_Leader_. He proposes that each month shall be consecrated to one of
the great names that represent the intellectual and social progress of
humanity. He specializes the names of Moses, Homer, Aristotle,
Archimedes, Caesar, St. Paul, Charlemagne, Dante, Descartes, Guttenberg
(whom he probably thinks had something to do with the invention of
printing), Columbus and Frederic the Great, as most appropriate for
the designation of the twelve months; recommending, however,
particular fetes for minor heroes in the months under which they may
best be grouped--for Augustin, Hildebrand, Bernard, and Bossuet, in
St. Paul's month; Alfred and St. Louis, in Charlemagne's month;
Richelieu and Cromwell in the month of Frederic the Great, and so on.
Supplying a defect of Catholicism in this respect, he proposes what he
calls "fetes of reprobation" for the greatest scoundrels of
history--for such retrogressive men as Julian the Apostate, Philip II.
of Spain, and Bonaparte, (we don't agree to the classification, unless
he means President Louis Napoleon, who indeed is not a _great_
scoundrel, though disposed to be sufficiently retrogressive.)
According to this new calendar, a follower of Comte, writing a letter
in March, would have to date it as written on such or such a day of
_Aristotle_. We fear the proposal won't do even in France, but this,
at least, may be said for it, that it is as good as the Puseyite
practice of dating by saints' days, besides being novel, and Parisian,
and scientific. Sydney Smith used, in jest of the Puseyite practice,
to date his letters "_Washing Day--Eve of Ironing Day_;" Comte's plan
is better than that of the Puseyites--almost as good as Peter
Plimley's.
* * * * *
Among the many books lately printed in England upon the ecclesiastical
controversies, is one entitled _Remonstrance against Romish
Corruptions in the Church, addressed to the People and Parliament of
England in 1395_, now for the first time published, edited by the Rev.
F. Forshall. Biographers of Wycliffe have referred to this tract and
quoted passages in evidence of the Wycliffite heresies; but they
appear to have failed altogether of perceiving its larger scope, or
understanding its political bearing and significance. There can hardly
be a doubt, as Mr. Forshall suggests, that it was drawn up to
influence the famous parliament which met in the eighteenth year of
Richard the Second, and which was a scene of unusual excitement on the
subject of religion from the sudden clash of the old Papal party with
the new and increasing band of patriotic reformers. Wycliffe had then
been dead, and his opinions gradually on the increase, for more than
ten years. The author of the Remonstrance was his friend John Purvey,
who assisted him in the first English version of the Bible, shared
with him the duties of his parish, and attended his death-bed. He was
the most active of the reformers, the most formidable to the
ecclesiastical authorities. Another old MS. from the Cottonian
collection in the British Museum, is the _Chronicle of Battel Abbey,
from 1066 to 1176, now first translated, with Notes, and an Abstract
of the subsequent History of the Establishment_, by Mark Antony Lower.
This is extremely curious, and contains, besides the important
histories of the controversies between the ecclesiastical authorities
and Henry the Second, some very striking exhibitions of manners.
* * * * *
The vitality of SCOTT'S popularity is shown by the fact that the
Edinburgh publishers of his _Life_ and _Works_ printed and sold the
following quantities of them during the period from 1st January, 1848,
to 26th March, 1851, viz.: Novels (exclusive of the Abbotsford
edition), 4,760 sets; Poetical Works, 4,360; Prose Writings, 850;
Life, 2,610; Tales of a Grandfather (independently of those included
in the complete sets of the Prose Works), 2,990; and Selections,
4,420. It may serve as a "curiosity of literature" to give a summary
of the printing of the Writings and Life since June, 1829, when they
came under the management of the late proprietor, Mr. Cadell: Waverley
Novels, 78,270 sets; Poetical Works, 41,340; Prose Works, 8,260; Life,
26,860; Tales of a Grandfather (independently of those included in the
complete sets of the Prose Works), 22,190; Selections, 7,550. The
popularity to which the "People's Edition" has attained appears from
the fact that the following numbers, originally published in weekly
sheets, have been printed: Novels, 7,115,197; Poetry, 674,955; Prose,
269,406; Life, 459,291; total sheets, 8,518,849.
The whole copyrights, stocks, &c., of Scott's works, as possessed for
many years by Cadell, have now been transferred to the hands of
Messrs. Adam and Charles Black. The copyrights and stock have been
acquired by the present purchasers for L27,000, or L10,000 less than
Mr. Cadell paid for copyrights alone.
* * * * *
ELIZABETH BARRET BROWNING has published a new poem, _Casa Guidi
Windows_, which gives a vivid picture of the tumult and heroism of
Italian struggles for independence, as seen from the poet's windows,
at Florence, with the fervid commentary of her hopes and aspirations.
* * * * *
A novel by MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ, published by Mr. Hart, of
Philadelphia, has been dramatized by Mr. Henry Paul Howard, for the
Haymarket Theatre in London, and brought out in a very splendid style,
with J. W. Wallack in the leading character.
* * * * *
COLONEL CUNNINGHAM, a son-in-law of Viscount Hardinge, has just
published in London "Glimpses of the Great Western Republic in the
year 1850."
* * * * *
We shall look with much interest for the result of the new scheme for
the encouragement of life assurance, economy, &c., among literary men
and artists in England. To bring this project into general notice, and
to form the commencement of the necessary funds, Sir Edward Bulwer
Lytton, one of its originators, has written and presented to his
associates in the cause, a new comedy in five acts, under the
significant title, _Not So Bad as we Seem_. It was to be produced on
the sixteenth ult., under the management of Mr. Charles Dickens, in a
theatre constructed for the purpose, and performed by Robert Bell,
Wilkie Collins, Dudley Costello, Peter Cunningham, Charles Dickens,
Augustus Egg, A.R.A., John Forster, R. H. Horne, Douglass Jerrold,
Charles Knight, Mark Lemon, J. Westland Marston, Frank Stone, and
others. The tickets were twenty-five dollars each, and the Queen and
Prince Albert were to be present. The comedy is hereafter to be
performed in public; and the promoters of the scheme are sanguine of
its success. Mr. Maclise has offered to paint a picture (the subject
to be connected with the performance of the comedy), and to place it
at the disposal of the guild, for the augmentation of its funds. The
prospects are encouraging.
* * * * *
The REV. C. G. FINNEY, so well known in the Presbyterian churches of
this country, has passed some time in London, and an edition of his
_Lectures on Systematic Theology_ has just been published there, with
a preface by the Rev. Dr. Redford, of Worcester, who confesses, that
"when a student he would gladly have bartered half the books in his
library to have gained a single perusal of these Lectures; and he
cannot refrain from expressing the belief, that no young student of
theology will ever regret their purchase or perusal." The book makes
an octavo of 1016 pages.
* * * * *
"TALVI," the wife of Professor ROBINSON, will leave New-York in a few
days, we understand, to pass some time in her native country. She will
be absent a year and a half, and will reside chiefly in Berlin. We
have recently given an account of the life and writings of this very
eminent and admirable woman, in the _International_, and are among the
troops of friends who wish her all happiness in the fatherland, and a
safe return to the land of her adoption. We presume the public duties
of Dr. Robinson will prevent him from being absent more than a few
weeks.
* * * * *
ALBERT SMITH has dramatised a tale from Washington Irving's "Alhambra"
for the Princess's Theatre--making a burlesque comedy.
* * * * *
MRS. SOUTHWORTH must be classed among our most industrious writers.
The Appletons have just published a new novel by her, entitled _The
Mother-in-Law_, and she has two others in press--one of which is
appearing from week to week in the _National Era_.
* * * * *
DR. SPRING, whose religious writings appear to be as popular in Great
Britain as in this country, and every where to be regarded as among
the classics of practical religious literature, has issued a second
edition of his two octavos entitled _First Things_. In style, temper,
and all the best qualities of such works, the discourses embraced in
this work are deserving of eminent praise. (M. W. Dodd.)
* * * * *
Of HENRY MARTIN, whom the religious world regards with a reverent
affection like that it gives to Cowper and Heber, the hitherto
unpublished _Letters and Journals_ have just appeared, and they seem
to us even more interesting than the so well-known Memoirs of his Life
published soon after he died. (M. W. Dodd.)
* * * * *
MRS. SIGOURNEY has published a volume entitled _Letters to my Pupils,
with Narrative and Biographical Sketches_. It embraces reminiscences
of her experience as a teacher, and we have read none of her prose
compositions that are more suggestive or more pleasing. (Robert Carter
& Brothers.)
* * * * *
A _Life of Algernon Sydney_, by G. Van Santvoord (a new author), has
been published by Charles Scribner. To describe the history and
writings of this noble republican was a task worthy of an American
scholar. Mr. Van Santvoord has performed it excellently well.
* * * * *
BAYARD TAYLOR and R. H. STODDARD have new volumes of poems in the
press of Ticknor, Reed & Fields, of Boston, and that house has never
published original volumes of greater merit, or that will be more
popular.
* * * * *
THE POEMS OF WILLIAM P. MULCHINOCK, in one volume, lately published by
Mr. Strong, Nassau-street, appear to have been received with singular
favor by the critics. Mr. Mulchinock has remarkable fluency, and a
genial spirit. His book contains specimens of a great variety of
styles, and some pieces of much merit.
* * * * *
TICKNOR & CO. have published a novelette entitled _The Solitary_, by
Santaine, the author of "Picciola." It is of the Robinson Crusoe sort
of books--better than any other imitation of Defoe.
* * * * *
The _Pocket Companion, for Machinists, Mechanics, and Engineers_, by
OLIVER BYRNE, is a remarkable specimen of perspicuous condensation. In
a beautiful pocket-book it embraces for the classes for whom it is
designed the pith of two or three ordinary octavos.
* * * * *
Among the new volumes of poems is one of Dramatic and Miscellaneous
Pieces, by CHARLES JAMES CANNON, published by Edward Dunigan. Mr.
Cannon is a writer of much cultivation, and, in his dramatic poems,
especially, there are passages of much force and elegance.
* * * * *
MR. JOHN E. WARREN, whose pleasant letters from the south of Europe
were a chief attraction of some of the early numbers of the
_International_, has in the press of Putnam, to be published in a few
days, _Paria, or Scenes and Adventures on the Banks of the Amazon_. He
saw that magnificent but little known country under such peculiar
advantages, and he writes with such spirit and so natural a grace,
that we may promise the public one of the most delightful books of the
season in "Paria." Here is a specimen, from the opening chapter.
"The shades of evening were gathering fast upon the waters,
when the little bark, in which we had safely crossed the
wide expanse of ocean, now quietly anchored in the mighty
river of the Amazons. Through the rich twilight we were able
to discern the white sandy shore, skirting a dense forest of
perennial luxuriance and beauty. Gentle zephyrs, fraught
with the most delightful fragrance from the wilderness of
flowers, softly saluted our senses; while occasionally the
plaintive voices of southern nightingales came with mellowed
sweetness to our ears. The moon, unobscured by a single
cloud, threw an indescribable charm over the enchanting
scene, reflecting her brilliant rays upon the placid surface
of the river, and shrouding the beautiful foliage of the
forest in a drapery of gold. Innumerable stars brightly
glittered in the firmament, and the constellation of the
'Southern Cross' gleamed above us like a diadem. All around
seemed to be wrapped in the most profound repose. Not a
sound disturbed the silence of the interminable solitude
save the hushed and mournful notes of evening birds, the
distant howling of prowling jaguars, or the rustling of the
wind through the forest trees. Nature appeared to us, for
the first time, in her pristine loveliness, and seemed
indeed, to our excited imagination, to present but a dreamy
picture of fairy land.
"At an early hour in the morning we weighed anchor, and with
a fresh breeze and strong tide rapidly moved up the noble
river, gliding by the most beautiful scenery that fancy can
conceive. The nearly impenetrable forest which lined the
shore was of a deep emerald green, and consisted of
exceedingly lofty trees, of remarkably curious and grotesque
figures, interlaced together by numerous vines, the
interstices of which were filled up with magnificent
shrubbery. We observed, towering high above the surrounding
trees, many singular species of palms, among which the
far-famed cocoa-nut probably stood pre-eminent. This
beautiful tree gives a peculiar witchery to a tropical
landscape, which those only who have seen it can possibly
realize. The trunk grows up perfectly perpendicular to a
great height, before it throws out its curious branches,
which bend over as gracefully as ostrich plumes, and quiver
in the slightest breeze. Consequently, the general
appearance of the tree at a distance is somewhat similar to
that of an umbrella.
"As we gradually proceeded, we now and then caught a glimpse
of smiling cottages, with the snug little verandahs and
red-tiled roofs peering from amid the foliage of the river's
banks, and giving, as it were, a character of sociability
and animation to the beauteous scene. Perhaps the most
interesting spot that we noticed was an estate bearing the
name of Pinherios, which had been formerly the site of a
Carmelite convent, but which was lately sold to the
government for a 'Hospital dos Lazaros.' Here also was an
establishment for the manufacture of earthenware tiles,
which are extensively used throughout the Brazilian empire
for roofing houses.
"So low is the valuation of land in this section of Brazil,
that this immense estate, embracing within its limits nearly
three thousand acres, and situated, as it is, within twenty
miles of the city of Para, was sold for a sum equivalent to
about _four thousand dollars_. This may be taken as a fair
standard of the value of real estate in the vicinity of
Para. That of the neighboring islands is comparatively
trifling; while there are millions of fertile acres now
wholly unappropriated, which offer the richest inducements
to emigrants who may be disposed to direct their fortunes
thither.
"The city of Para is delightfully situated on the southern
branch of the Amazon, called, for the sake of distinction,
'The Para River.' It is the principal city of the province
of the same name,--an immense territory, which has very
appropriately been styled 'The Paradise of Brazil.' The
general aspect of the place, with its low venerable looking
buildings of solid stone, its massive churches and
moss-grown ruins, its red-tiled roofs and dingy-white walls,
the beautiful trees of its gardens, and groups of tall
banana plants peeping up here and there among the houses,
constituted certainly a scene of novelty, if not of elegance
and beauty.
"The first spectacle which arrested our attention on landing
was that of a number of persons of both sexes and all ages
bathing indiscriminately together in the waters of the
river, in a state of entire nudity. We observed among them
several finely-formed Indian girls of exceeding beauty,
dashing about in the water like a troop of happy mermaids.
The heat of the sun was so intense that we ourselves were
almost tempted to seek relief from its overpowering
influence by plunging precipitately amid the joyous throng
of swimmers. But we forbore!
"The natives of Para are very cleanly, and indulge in daily
ablutions; nor do they confine their baths to the dusky
hours of evening, but may be seen swimming about the public
wharves at all hours of the day. The government has made
several feeble efforts to put a restraint upon these public
exposures, but at the time of our departure all rules and
regulations on the subject were totally disregarded by the
natives. The city is laid out with considerable taste and
regularity, but the streets are very narrow, and miserably
paved with large and uneven stones. The buildings generally
are but of one story in height, and are, with few
exceptions, entirely destitute of glass windows; a kind of
latticed blind is substituted, which is so constructed that
it affords the person within an opportunity of seeing
whatever takes place in the street, without being observed
in return. This lattice opens towards the street, and thus
affords great facilities to the beaux and gentlemen of
gallantry, who, by stepping under this covering, can have an
agreeable _tete-a-tete_ with their fair mistresses, as
secretly almost as if they were in a trellised arbor
together.
"We noticed several strange spectacles as we slowly walked
through the city. Venders of fruit marching about, with huge
baskets on their heads, filled with luscious oranges,
bananas, mangoes, pineapples, and other choice fruits of the
tropics; groups of blacks, carrying immense burdens in the
same manner; invalids reclining in their hammocks, or ladies
riding in their gay-covered palanquins, supported on men's
shoulders; and water-carriers moving along by the side of
their heavily-laden horses or mules."
In his excursions along the small streams which penetrate the forests
our traveller met with some magnificent scenes. Here is a description
of one of them:
"Now the grassy table-land would extend away for miles to
our left, gemmed here and there with solitary trees, waving
their branches mournfully in the wind, and looking like
spectres in the mystic starlight. On the outer side, a
gloomy yet splendid wilderness ran along the margin of the
stream, flinging tall shadows across the water, and adding
grandeur to the imposing landscape. As we advanced the brook
gradually narrowed, and became more and more crooked in its
course, until finally the thick clustering foliage met in a
prolonged arch of verdure over our heads.
"While winding through this natural labyrinth, the sun
emerged from his oriental couch, and besprinkled us with a
shower of luminous beams, which, falling through the
interstices of the leaves, seemed like the spirits of so
many diamonds. A more divine spectacle of beauty never was
beheld. The most gorgeous creations of the poet's
imagination, if realized, could not surpass in magnificence
this sun-lighted arbor, with its roses and flowers of varied
hues, all set like stars in a canopy of green. Sprightly
humming-birds flitted before us, sparkling like jewels for a
moment, then vanishing away from our sight for ever.
Butterflies with immense wings, and moths of gay and
striking colors, flew also from flower to flower, seeming
like appropriate inhabitants of this little paradise. But
the indefatigable mosquitoes, who were continually pouncing
upon our unprotected faces and hands, as well as the mailed
caymans, who now and then plunged under our canoe with a
terrific snort, preserved in us the conviction of our own
mortality.
"As we were moving through a wider passage of the stream, a
sudden noise in the bushes on our left arrested our
attention; in a moment after, we perceived a large animal
running as expeditiously as he was able along the banks of
the stream. We immediately raised our guns simultaneously
and fired. Although we evidently gave the creature their
full contents, yet it produced no other visible effect than
to cause him to give a boisterous snort, and then dart away
furiously into the heart of the thicket."
Here is something much more natural than Melville's introduction of
Fayaway:
"Among our olive-complexioned neighbors were two young
girls, whose fine forms and pretty faces especially elicited
our admiration. The one was named Teresa, the other Florana.
The former could not have been more than fourteen years of
age, and was rather short in stature, with exquisitely
rounded arms, and a bust of noble development; the latter
was somewhat taller, and at least three years older; they
both, however, had attained their full size. Animated as
they were beautiful, they were always overflowing with
vivacity and life; their conversation, which was incessant,
was like the chirping of nightingales, and their laughter,
like strings of musical pearls. These, then, beloved reader,
were, during our stay at least, decidedly the belles of
Jungcal. At the close of every day we were visited by all
the juveniles in the place, who, in their own sweet tongue,
bade us 'adieus,' and at the same time besought our
blessing, which latter request we only answered by patting
them gently on the head. The pretty maidens we have just
alluded to, instead of shaking hands with us, were
accustomed to salute us at eventide with a kiss on either
cheek. The propriety of this we at first doubted, but the
more we reflected upon the sweetness and innocence of the
damsels, the more inclined were we to pardon them; and, in
fact, we finally began to think their manner much more
sensible and agreeable than that of those who consider any
thing beyond cold and formal shaking of hands a grievous
sin. Besides, it must be borne in mind, that this was a
sacred custom of the place, which it would have been great
rudeness in us to have resisted. Therefore, kind reader, do
not judge us too severely; for know, O chary one! that
extreme bashfulness and modesty have always been considered
two of our principal failings! One day, Teresa and Florana
invited us to take a bathe with them in the stream. This we
declined point-blank. They then charged us with fear of
alligators. This was a poser--our courage was now called in
question, and we were literally forced to submit. Pray what
else could we have done under the circumstances? When they
had once got us into the water they took ample revenge upon
us for the uncourteous manner in which we had at first
treated their request. As we were encumbered by our clothes,
they had altogether the advantage, and, in less than ten
minutes, we cried out lustily for quarter, but no quarter
would they give us, and, to tell the truth, we were somewhat
apprehensive of being drowned by them, to say nothing of
being devoured by bloodthirsty alligators. Emerging from the
water, we walked up to Anzevedo's cottage, revolving in our
mind the severe ordeal through which we had just passed, and
determined henceforth never to refuse any request, sweetened
by the lips of a pretty maiden, unless, perchance (though
highly improbable), she should ask us for our heart! which,
alas! we have not to give...."
* * * * *
An _Album_ sent to the great Exhibition by the Emperor of Austria, and
to be presented after the show to Victoria, is thus described by a
Vienna correspondent of the _Times_: "It contains the notes in
manuscript of the national airs and dances, and far surpasses any
thing that I have ever seen in the bookbinding department. On one side
there are fourteen exquisite vignettes in oil colors, representing
different national costumes; the ornaments in enamel, carved ivory,
and ebony, are exquisite. A second album contains the works of the
ancient and modern Austrian composers; the third, Austrian scenery, by
different native artists. The bindings of some of the two hundred and
seventy volumes of Austrian authors will also not fail to excite the
astonishment--I had almost said the envy--of the trade. The whole will
form a truly imperial gift."
_The Fine Arts._
During the present month there are four Public Exhibitions of
Paintings in the city: that of the NATIONAL ACADEMY, of the ART-UNION,
of the ARTIST'S ASSOCIATION, and the DUeSSELDORF GALLERY. The first
three are composed mainly of the works of native American artists, and
it is impossible to repress an expression of regret that some
arrangement of union has not yet been effected, by which, at least,
the works of the same men should not be exhibited gratis at one place,
and for a charge at another. In the present state of things, the
gallery of the Art-Union and that of the National Academy are brought
into direct opposition, and this, beyond doubt, without the slightest
jealousy on either side, as the works painted for the Academy and
purchased by the Art-Union clearly show. But certainly the fact is
lamentable enough to challenge immediate attention, and to induce a
radical change. A free gallery of the selected works of artists will
be very apt to carry the day against an exhibition at a quarter of a
dollar of the miscellaneous and unselected works of the same men. But
here we do not mean to vex this question farther. We aim at a general
review of the peculiarities and excellences of each exhibition.
It is undoubtedly in landscape art that American talent is destined
first to excel, and the Academy exhibition and that of the Art-Union
are added proofs of the fact. The landscapes are much the most
distinguishing and distinguished feature. Mr. DURAND contributes
several characteristic works. His style is so uniform and pronounced
that it is never difficult to recognize his pictures. We should hardly
say that he does better this year than usual, but we should certainly
not say that he does worse. In the front rank of this department stand
also KENSETT and CROPSEY, both of whom show beautiful results of
summer study and winter work. Mr. Cropsey is mainly distinguished by a
really gorgeous imagination. Proof of this is to be sought in the
sketches of his portfolio rather than in his finished pictures, for in
these a thousand influences seduce an artist away from the simplicity
and splendor of his study into a care of public approbation and
satisfaction. Mr. Cropsey is as yet too much enamored of the details
and even of the mechanism of his art. And this is a tendency that is
fatal to breadth and largeness of impression. Yet his "Southern
Italy," and a "View in Rockland County," in the exhibition, are great
advances in this respect. On the other hand, the two large American
landscapes at the Art-Union, while the background in one is a splendid
success, and the brilliant atmosphere of the other is no less
successful, yet they are too much detailed, and the interest is
nowhere sufficiently concentrated. Mr. Kensett is remarkable for his
just sentiment and profound appreciation of natural beauty. It is a
sentiment singularly free from sentimentality, and an appreciation as
poetic as it is profound. The very delicacy of his touch and style
indicate the character of his enjoyment and perception of nature.
Mr. CHURCH, too, is perhaps the other name that we should mention with
these two as full of hope and promise. If he avoids a little
mannerism, to which he seems to be susceptible--not of course
forgetting that all greatness has its own manner--and pursues with the
same devotion as hitherto his studies of sea and sky, a very happy and
brilliant career seems open to him. The works of none of the younger
artists have attracted more attention. And the fame and position of
Turner show the reward of a devoted student and artistic delineator of
the peculiarities of atmospheric phenomena. We exhort Mr. Church to
entire boldness in his attempts. Why should he hope always to please
those who have only a vague susceptibility of natural observation for
their standard of criticism? He is to show us in the splendid play of
the light, and air, and clouds, that which we do not see, or seeing,
do not perceive.
Messrs. CRANCH, BOUTELLE, GIFFORD, and others, take high rank among
the landscapists, nor must we omit a very beautiful winter piece of
GIGNOUX, at the Academy, in which the crisp clearness of the sharp
air, the brittle outline of the bare boughs, and the quality of ice,
are most accurately and poetically rendered.
We are arrested by the feeling and promise of Mr. RICHARD'S
contributions, and the very beautiful poetic sentiment of Mr.
HUBBARD'S. Mr. HUNTINGDON is not great, this year. His landscapes are
not natural, and his portraits lack that vigorous moulding to which we
are accustomed upon his canvas. Mr. RANNEY has some characteristic
hunting-pieces. They are getting too much mannered. On a prairie, the
chief interest of art is not a horse or a buffalo, but the sentiment
of space. But we do not yield to any in our satisfaction at the spirit
and vigor of these works.
Leaving the landscape, we find the figure compositions of the year not
very successful, if we except the "Aztec Princess" of Mr. HICKS, which
we understand is a study from life of a Mexican woman, but which is
treated in so large, and thoughtful, and skilful a manner, that it is
most impressive for character and color, and gives the key to the
whole side of the room upon which it hangs. This artist exhibits also
some portraits, which have never been surpassed by any modern
portraits that we recall. No. 128 upon the Academy Catalogue is the
most brilliantly- portrait upon the walls. It is treated with
all the happy heroism of a master, and while many quarrel with its
_spotty_ color, the initiated perceive that easy mastery of the
palette which with genius is the secret of artistic success. No. 405
is equally remarkable for its vigorous moulding. This portrait shows
the accurate knowledge, as No. 128 reveals the sumptuous sentiment of
the genuine artist. Mr. ELLIOTT'S portraits have the same quiet
truthfulness as heretofore, the same easy success, but we would gladly
see more confidence in color, and a likeness more as the subject
appears to the mind than to the eye. Mr. SHEGOGUE'S productions are
certainly very pastoral. So sheepy are his sheep that all the figures,
trees, and landscape, are unmitigatedly sheepish. Mr. FLAGG'S
portraits are not successful. There is an unnatural smoothness and
hardness in his works. Mr. KELLOGG'S General Scott is vigorous and
effective. The action of the figure seems to require some explanation,
however. It contrasts well with the monotony of its pendant, Mr.
VANDERLYN'S General Taylor; but no spectator in regarding this latter
work has a right to forget that it is the production of one who has
grown gray at his post, and the winter of whose age has not yet
frozen, and can never freeze, the freshness of enthusiasm and
single-hearted devotion to art which are for ever young.
Mr. LANG'S No. 44 is a very large likeness of a very comely lady, but
the work will hardly live long in the spectator's memory. Mr. ROSSITER
takes the field boldly with "The Ideals, Types of Moral, Intellectual,
and Physical Beauty." Except for the brilliance of color, and a
certain sentiment, by which the light proceeds from the moral type, we
do not much admire the picture. The difficulty with the spectator will
be, we are sure, that he recalls within his own circle of friends
types more beautiful for each ideal. Mr. Rossiter's portraits of his
brother artists, Messrs. DARLEY and DUGGAN, are admirable likenesses,
each somewhat mellowed in expression by the artist. The sharp
intellectual precision of Mr. Duggan's countenance, and the bright
nervous sensibility of Mr. Darley's, are both somewhat subdued upon
the canvas. What we candidly say of these pictures we say boldly,
because we recognize and appreciate the fine feeling which animates
the artist. Mr. GRAY'S No. 54, "King Death," attracts much attention.
But is it the "Jolly Old Fellow," or the "King of Terrors," or the
"easeful death" of which the poet was enamored? There is something
fine in the picture--a strain of Egyptian placidity permeates the
features. And such colossal placidity is full of fate. There is a
latitude allowed the artist in these themes. Yet we do not feel
satisfied, much as we like the picture. Mr. ROTHERMEL'S No. 5,
"Murray's Defence of Toleration," is a very pleasant picture of the
Duesseldorf style. We like one thing in this work, and that is its
preservation of the balance of history, by showing that the Catholics
were not always the persecutors. The contrast of the religious repose
of the rear with the jangling fanaticism of the foreground is in
harmony with the differing qualities of light. It is a thoughtful and
beautiful picture, Mr. FREEMAN'S 359, "Study for an Angel's Head," has
a Titianesque fascination, and the earnest regard of the faces is
extremely lovely. It is none the less charming that it has a mortal
loveliness--if we might say so without treason to the immortality of
all beauty. We have no doubt, in our own critical mind, that any
beautiful woman would make a beautiful angel. Mr. MOUNT'S No. 118,
"Who'll turn Grindstone?" is one of his characteristic Yankee
incidents. It is very true and genuine in feeling, but the picture is
too white and streaked. No. 344 is a natural and spirited portrait of
the poet Stoddard by Mr. PRATT.
But we must pause here, leaving many works of which we would willingly
speak. At the Duesseldorf Gallery, LESSING'S "Martyrdom of Huss" is
still the great attraction. It is a work so full of careful study and
skilful treatment that we are not surprised at the universal pleasure
in its contemplation. We cannot in this space, however, enter into a
consideration of its artistic claims and character, but must record
our impression that it is not in the highest style of art--if there be
in art a higher style than the adequate representation of the simple
incident. The dexterous detail of the Duesseldorf pictures is
remarkable, but the fault and tendency of the school is to direct
imitation, and consequently to a hopeless struggle with nature. These
pictures are the worst possible models for the student of art.
The Art-Union Gallery is by no means full, but certainly does not
merit the harsh criticism of the daily press. The pictures are on an
average quite as good as usual. The names of most of the distinguished
artists are on the catalogue, and the specimens of their works are
characteristic and admirable. There are several poor copies of famous
pictures, and these undoubtedly somewhat neutralize the effect of the
native works. Beside, the Art-Union does not profess to open its
gallery with a complete collection. It buys as the pictures are
produced, and the criticisms, thus far, have been no less ignorant
than ill-natured. It does not follow that fifty thousand dollars'
worth of good pictures are annually painted because that sum may be
subscribed to purchase good pictures. Nor is it at all true, as we
would undertake to show, had we the space, that artists are
necessarily the best managers of a popular institution for the advance
of art.
The Exhibition of the Artists' Association offers little for remark.
We are not sufficiently acquainted with the secret of the origin of
this association to speak of the institution itself, but we observe
many of the names familiar to us at the Academy and the Art-Union, and
can truly wish that the pictures were upon the walls of one of those
galleries.
On the whole, we remark an unwonted activity and interest in art. It
is impossible not to rejoice at the fact, and at the brilliant proofs
of artistic ability that illuminate the walls of the various
galleries. The contemporary exhibitions of foreign capitals do not,
altogether, surpass those of their younger sister. American books are
now not all unread, and those who delight in galleries in which only
Turner, Kaulbach, and Couture are eminently great, could not be unjust
to these promises of American artistic success.
* * * * *
LEUTZE, the artist, has been again distinguishing himself by a work
just exhibited in Duesseldorf, "The Amazon with her Children." It
represents a beautiful and majestic woman, lying half-erect, arms and
neck bare, contemplating the gambols of her two naked children. The
brilliant golden-tone of the complexion is said to be entirely worthy
of the masterly skill in color of the artist, and was perhaps inspired
by the poet's dream, "I will take some savage woman; she shall rear my
dusky race." But in respect of composition and drawing it is called an
attempt to imitate the art of the old Italian virtuosos. The artist is
proceeding with surprising rapidity with his Washington. A portrait of
Roting by Leutze is most highly commended. Roting is in the same
atelier with Leutze, and is busy upon a scene from the life of
Columbus.
* * * * *
The Managers of the ART-UNION promise rich returns to the subscribers
for the present year. We quote the _Art-Union Journal_:
"We have never before offered so many powerful motives to
membership as the programme of the present year affords. The
improvements in the Bulletin render it a publication that is
almost indispensable to those who desire to have in a
convenient form the most recent Art intelligence, as well as
much original matter upon the subject that meets the
constant approbation of instructed readers. The numbers of
this work are furnished gratuitously to each member from the
date of his subscription. He will also be entitled to the
large engraving of _Mexican News_ by JONES, after Woodville,
and to the second part of the _Gallery of American Art_,
which contains five line engravings on steel, by the best
artists, after the following pictures: Cropsey's
_Harvesting_, Kensett's _Mount Washington_, Woodville's _Old
'76 and Young '48_, Ranney's _Marion crossing the Pedee_,
and Mount's _Bargaining for a Horse_. We desire to call
attention again to the fact that these subjects are all
American in their character, illustrating the scenery,
history, or manners of the country. They are also striking
and valuable as pictures, and we should have every reason to
feel proud of them in whatever contrast they might be
placed.
"This project of presenting a work which shall contain in
process of time the Gems of American Art, is original with
the Art-Union. Its value must be apparent to every reader.
It is a mode by which subscribers in the most distant parts
of the country, who are deprived of the opportunity of
visiting the large towns, may become well acquainted with
the character and progress of our principal artists--and
even those members who have the advantage of resorting to
public galleries, may enjoy here the privilege of studying
many pictures that from their location in private
collections must be accessible to them. The first part of
this work was given to the members of 1850, and is now ready
for distribution, Besides the inducements just enumerated,
there remains a share in the allotment of works of art
purchased by the Association, and which, judging from the
two hundred already obtained, will be the most attractive
collection ever offered by the Art-Union. The importance of
early subscriptions need not be enlarged upon at present.
The opportunity it affords of securing complete sets of the
Bulletin, and better impressions of the engravings, seems to
be recognized in all quarters. The Association at no period
of its history has had so long a roll of members at this
early season."
* * * * *
PAUL DELAROCHE has just completed, at Nice, a grand historical
composition, which the most intelligent judges decree to be his _chef
d'oeuvre_. The picture represents a tragical moment in the life of
Marie Antoinette. After a night of anguish before the revolutionary
tribunals the unhappy Queen has just heard the verdict of her guilt.
The President asks her if she has any thing to say in arrest of the
sentence. For her sole answer, she rises calm and majestic, and takes
silently the way back again to her dungeon. The artist has seized this
instant, as she passes erect and still before a crowd of
revolutionists. A man with a tri- scarf walks by her side,
regarding her as a tiger gloats upon a lamb. It is the personification
of terror. A single girl, too young to be cruel, yet attracted with
the others, perhaps, to applaud the punishment of the _Widow Capet_,
looks pityingly upon the Queen, her trembling lips murmur a prayer,
and the tears start in her eyes. Upon the lips of the Queen there is
almost a smile, a thought of disdain, for the outrages of men upon a
solitary and defenceless woman. From the descriptions of which we
select the prominent points, it is evident that this is another of the
representations of historical incident for which Paul Delaroche has
made himself so famous a name, as in his Death of Elizabeth, the
Children of Edward in the Tower, Cromwell at the Coffin of Charles I,
the Execution of Strafford, of Lady Jane Grey, Napoleon Crossing the
Alps, &c., &c. And there is no reason that this last work should not
be, as claimed, the greatest, since the artist adds to the greater
cunning of his hand, the sympathies of chivalrous artistic feeling for
the sorrow of a beautiful woman and a Queen of France. The picture is
already sold in London, and will presently be forwarded to its
destination; on the way it will remain a short time in Paris for the
homage of the many admirers of this artist's genius.
* * * * *
Mr. MINER K. KELLOGG, who since his professional tours in the East and
long residence in Italy, has spent some half dozen years in his native
country, has just returned to Florence, where, with his companion from
boyhood, Hiram Powers, he will probably pass the remainder of his
life. He is an artist of peculiar and great merits, and there is not
perhaps among American painters a man more uniformly regarded with
respect and affection.
* * * * *
The Brussels _Herald_ gives an account of a curious and costly work of
art, which a great landholder of the Walloon Provinces has ordered of
the Depaepes, of Bruges. These artists are instructed to copy in
Gothic letters _L'Imitation de Jesus Christ_, by the Abbe d'Assance.
The work will fill six hundred and seventy pages, each of which will
be about three-quarters of a yard in height, by eighteen inches wide.
They will have to execute one hundred and fourteen engravings, from
the great masters of the Flemish school, Van Eyck, Memling, Pourbus,
Classens, &c. The pages on which will be displayed the _Imitation of
Jesus Christ_, will be encircled with garlands and other ornaments, in
blue and gold.
* * * * *
At the last annual meeting of the NATIONAL ACADEMY OF DESIGN, the rank
of _Academician_ was conferred on T. Hicks, G.A. Baker, H.K. Brown,
J.A. Cropsey, T. Addison Richards, R. Gignoux, P.P. Duggan, Alfred
Jones, R.M. Pratt, J.W. Casilear, James Smillie and George W. Flagg.
At the same time, Messrs R.W. Hubbard, J. Thompson, and Vincent
Colyer, were made associates; and Messrs. Darley, Falconer, Lacombe,
Kellogg and Ruggles, honorary members.
From the Times.
THE MEETING OF THE NATIONS IN HYDE PARK.
BY W. M. THACKERAY.
But yesterday a naked sod,
The dandies sneered from Rotten-row,
And cantered o'er it to and fro;
And see, 'tis done!
As though 'twere by a wizard's rod,
A blazing arch of lucid glass
Leaps like a fountain from the grass
To meet the sun!
A quiet green but few days since,
With cattle browsing in the shade,
And lo! long lines of bright arcade
In order raised;
A palace as for fairy prince,
A rare paradise, such as man
Saw never, since mankind began
And built and glazed!
A peaceful place it was but now,
And lo! within its shining streets.
A multitude, of nations meets:
A countless throng,
I see beneath the crystal bow,
And Gaul and German, Russ and Turk,
Each with his native handiwork,
And busy tongue.
I felt a thrill of love and awe
To mark the different garb of each,
The changing tongue, the various speech
Together blent.
A thrill, methinks like His who saw
"All people dwelling upon earth
Praising our God with solemn mirth
And one consent."
High Sovereign in your Royal state!
Captains and Chiefs and Councillors,
Before the lofty palace doors
Are open set.
Hush! ere you pass the shining gate;
Hush! ere the heaving curtain draws,
And let the Royal pageant pause
A moment yet.
People and Prince, a silence keep!
Bow coronet and kindly crown,
Helmet and plume bow lowly down;
The while the priest
Before the splendid portal step,
While still the wondrous banquet stays,
From Heaven supreme a blessing prays
Upon the feast!
Then onwards let the triumph march;
Then let the loud artillery roll,
And trumpets ring and joy-bells toll,
And pass the gate;
Pass underneath the shining arch,
'Neath which the leafy elms are green--
Ascend unto your throne, O Queen,
And take your State!
Behold her in her Royal place:
A gentle lady--and the hand
That sways the sceptre of this land
How frail and weak!
Soft is the voice, and fair the face;
She breathes amen to prayer and hymn,
No wonder that her eyes are dim,
And pale her cheek.
This moment round her empire's shores
The winds of Austral winter sweep,
And thousands lie in midnight sleep
At rest to-day.
O! awful is that crown of yours,
Queen of innumerable realms,
Sitting beneath the budding elms
Of English May!
A wondrous sceptre 'tis to bear,
Strange mystery of God which set
Upon her brow yon coronet,--
The foremost crown
Of all the world on one so fair!
That chose her to it from her birth,
And bade the sons of all the earth
To her bow down.
The representatives of man,
Here from the far Antipodes,
And from the subject Indian seas,
In Congress meet;
From Afric and from Hindostan,
From Western continent and isle,
The envoys of her empire pile
Gifts at her feet.
Our brethren cross the Atlantic tides,
Loading the gallant decks, which once
Roared a defiance to our guns,
With peaceful store;
Symbol of peace, their vessel rides![2]
O'er English waves float Star and Stripe,
And from their friendly anchors gripe
The father-shore!
From Rhine and Danube, Rhone and Seine,
As rivers from their sources gush,
The swelling floods of nations rush,
And seaward pour:
From coast to coast in friendly chain,
With countless ships we bridge the straits;
And angry Ocean separates
Europe no more.
From Mississippi and from Nile--
From Baltic, Ganges, Bosphorus,
In England's Ark assembled thus
Are friend and guest.
Look down the mighty sunlit aisle,
And see the sumptuous banquet set,
The brotherhood of nations met
Around the feast!
Along the dazzling colonnade,
Far as the straining eye can gaze,
Gleam cross and fountain, bell, and vase,
In vistas bright.
And statues fair of nymph and maid,
And steeds and pards and Amazons,
Writhing and grappling in the bronze,
In endless fight.
To deck the glorious roof and dome,
To make the Queen a canopy,
The peaceful hosts of industry
Their standards bear.
Yon are the works of Brahmin loom;
On such a web of Persian thread
The desert Arab bows his head,
And cries his prayer.
Look yonder where the engines toil;
These England's arms, of conquest are,
The trophies of her bloodless war:
Brave weapons these.
Victorious over wave and soil,
With these she sails, she weaves, she tills
Pierces the everlasting hills,
And spans the seas.
The engine roars upon its race,
The shuttle whirrs along the woof,
The people hum from floor to roof,
With Babel tongue.
The fountain in the basin plays,
The chanting organ echoes clear,
An awful chorus 'tis to hear,
A wondrous song!
Swell organ, swell your trumpet blast,
March, Queen, and Royal pageant, march
By splendid aisle and springing arch
Of this fair Hall:
And see! above the fabric vast,
God's boundless Heaven is bending blue,
God's peaceful Sun is beaming through
And shining over all.
April 29.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] The St. Lawrence.
THE SECOND WIFE: OR, THE TABLES TURNED.
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
Subordination is the _apparent_ lot of woman. From the domination of
nurses, parents, guardians, and teachers, during infancy and youth, to
the magisterial rule of her lord and master, during married life, and
the softer control of her children, through that valley of the shadow
of death, old age, it rarely ceases, until the neatly-crimped borders
of the death-cap rest upon the icy brow, and the unfortunate subject
is screwed down in one of those exceedingly awkward mahogany
tenements, henceforth "all which it may inhabit."
There are two ways of meeting this destiny of the sex. One is merely
to kiss the rod, and bend before the will of the oppressor, meekly
turning both cheeks to be smitten at once, and offering to lend both
coat and cloak, even before either is required. The other mode is to
boldly face down the enemy, and by a never-tiring guerilla warfare, to
hamper his movements, cut off his provisions, and finally hem him in,
after a manner that shall cause him ignominiously to surrender, to lay
down his arms, pass under the yoke, and at length--converting his
sword into a pruning-hook--leave his conqueror undisputed possession
of the land. The usual injustice of the world is seen in the success
which ordinarily attends the latter method; while the meek and gentle,
who, it is promised, shall inherit the earth, must look for a new
heaven and a new earth before they can come into their property.
Husbands, it is premised, have no small share in this domestic
despotism. How often do we see--to the shame of the male sex
generally, be it spoken--some rough, coarse-minded tyrant, linked to a
quiet, amiable woman, who after a long period of hectoring and
dragooning, ordering and counter-ordering, sinks into the grave of a
broken heart--or what is worse, a broken spirit. And sometimes--for
fate is sometimes just--the said patient wife is replaced by some
undaunted avenger of her wrongs, who in her turn dragoons, and hectors
Othello, until indeed his "occupation's gone."
My old acquaintance, Charles Boldenough, was pronounced to be, by the
tutors, as well as by the students of D---- College, "the most
unlicked cub" who ever misconstrued Virgil. Their experience was
undoubtedly great in this species of natural history, but of all the
hard characters who fell under their inspection and jurisdiction, I
question if there were one who could with any share of success,
dispute with him the enviable claim of being the hardest. Tall,
athletic, with a huge frame capable of any fatigue, and health that
never failed him; with a passionate temper, and a stentorian voice
whose thunders were the terror of the younger boys, Charles Boldenough
contrived to overawe with brute force all the small fry, and to
convince the older collegians that it was best to yield passively to
pretensions which could only be contended with any chance of success,
by wrestling powers equal to his own. He was in fact the gladiator of
D----College,--champion I should have called him, were it not that he
was constantly at war with the professors and faculty, who might be
said to represent it. The incorrigible laziness and ignorance which
marked his scholastic career, were fruitful sources of complaint and
reprimand; the frequent boating expeditions, the sporting excursions,
and fishing parties, on which he was absent, sometimes for entire
days, would unquestionably have terminated the course of his studies,
and released the freshmen from their dreaded tyrant, by his early
expulsion, had it not been for the influence of powerful family
connections, and the personal interference of his friends. But in the
course of time, he finished his collegiate labors, with all the
honors, and a scarcity of black eyes, and bloody noses, immediately
prevailed at D----, such as had not occurred for years.
I separated from him at that time, and heard nothing of him for a long
interval. When I next saw him, he was married. The person whom my
pugnacious acquaintance had made the object of his choice, was a fair
blue-eyed timid little woman, with a frail figure, delicate health,
and temper mild as the summer morning. What could have induced her, to
ally herself with this belligerent power, I never could imagine.
Whether she had fallen in love with that great burly countenance, and
loud voice; or whether, as the youngest of ten children, she had
snatched at the crown matrimonial as affording an escape from a
disagreeable home, or whether some one of her friends compelled her to
do it, I have always found it impossible to determine. I only know
that at the first interview, I saw enough to pity the poor being in my
heart. She hung upon the arm of her Alcides, like a snow-drop on a
rock. My friend had never had many pretensions to beauty; and his
rough red visage and portly figure, bore witness of a right boisterous
and jolly style of living. His first act after his marriage, was to
engage in a violent quarrel with his wife's father and eight stalwart
brothers, the result of which was a total cessation of intercourse
between the two families. His young partner was compelled to receive
the boon companions of her better half, to the entire exclusion of her
own friends. The home of Charles Boldenough was a constant scene of
dinner parties, and oyster suppers innumerable, which, as they
frequently ended by an altercation between the host and his guests,
were a continual source of agitation to his wife.
A perfect angel of peace and gentleness she was. She bore, with
unexampled resignation, the thraldom which was destroying her health
and comfort. She tried, with patience, every means of pleasing a man
who never allowed her to know what he liked, as it would have taken
away all room for grumbling. With scrupulous care she attended to his
little vexatious wants, his epicurean tastes, his trifling whimsical
peculiarities. If she wished to remain at home, he forced her to go
abroad; if she were desirous of going out, he made her stay within
doors. If she liked a person more than commonly, he, in the words of
the vulgar, "made the house too hot to hold them." If, on the
contrary, she was annoyed by the presence of one of his acquaintances,
she had time and opportunity to get rid of her abhorrence, since she
was continually visited with their company. He scolded, grumbled, and
found fault with every thing she did; with her acts and her intentions
alike. If she ordered a servant to perform any particular duty, he
immediately countermanded the orders; if she made any change, however
slight, in the family arrangements, no penance could expiate the
offence. So she lived on, with almost a struggle for her existence,
having learned the important mythological lesson, that Hymen, like
Janus, wears two faces, and that the temple of the former god, unlike
that of the latter, is _never_ closed. She had several children (who
fortunately all died before their mother), but Boldenough, on the
ground that women were not fit to bring up boys, constantly interfered
in the education of the girls, and made his wife as wretched by this
means as by any other. He punished when she rewarded, and indulged
when she reproved; he sent them to school when she would have educated
them at home, and reaped his reward, by having them secretly fear and
hate him. Poor Mrs. Boldenough complained not, but she grew thinner
and paler every year, and her voice, as if lost amid the loud tones,
forever reverberating in her ears, became so low as to be scarcely
audible.
At last she died. When it became necessary to inform him of the danger
she was in, he was at first stupefied by the unexpected intelligence,
and the feeling that he was to lose a household object, which time had
rendered not dear, but familiar. Then he flew into a violent rage,
quarreled with the attendants, servants, even the friends and
relatives. Having recovered from the shock in some degree, he set
about persecuting his poor wife during her last moments, in the same
manner he had done while she enjoyed her health, with this difference:
that it was now killing with kindness. He sent away in a rage the
family physician, although his dying wife begged him, almost with
tears, to retain him. He brought strange attendants to wait upon her,
and insisted upon her eating when she had no appetite, and when the
very sight of food created disgust. The sight of his big, cross, burly
countenance, perpetually haunting her, and his loud questions, to
which he _would_ have answers, and the eternal remedies, which he
disturbed her feverish sleep that she might swallow--were causes, as
the nurse averred, which positively sent the poor lady out of the
world--"for he wouldn't," said that worthy person, "he wouldn't have
let her get well, even if she'd been a mind to."
Poor thing! a man who, as it was universally agreed, had broken his
wife's heart, was not likely to regret her very deeply, or very long.
But he was rougher and ruder than ever; the confusion into which his
family matters immediately fell, the dishonesty of servants, the
diabolical gastronomy of his _cuisine_, and the insufferable dullness
of a home in which there was no family circle to be made uncomfortable
and to be railed at every hour in the day, induced Charles Boldenough
to mingle more freely in society, in order, as it was immediately
said, that he might marry again. Many were the denunciations of wrath
and sorrow to come, which were showered upon the head of that wretched
woman who should accept Charles Boldenough's huge bony hand. He had
the name of the worst of husbands, and it was confidently said that he
would never succeed in contracting a second alliance: an assertion to
which he gave the lie by espousing, one year after the death of the
first Mrs. Boldenough, an intrepid successor, in the person of a
damsel whom he had long been known to admire.
The second Mrs. Boldenough was a complete and entire contrast to the
first. She was so nearly equal to her husband in stature and in size
that she might almost have succeeded in giving him, what no person had
ever been known to do, and what he certainly had long required:
namely, a good flogging. She had a pair of cheeks like nothing in
_this_ world except two prize Spitzenberg apples, black eyes, fierce
and bright and far-seeing almost to a miracle, and a voice that went
through your head like a milkman's whistle, whilst the continued sound
of her conversation resembled a gong at the great hotels. Boldenough
she was by name, and Boldenough by nature; her carriage, erect and
firm, and rapid as a locomotive, seemed to require the ringing of a
little bell before her, to keep the unwary off the tracks, after the
manner of most railway trains. She was afraid of nothing in the
heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the
earth. She could break the most unruly horse, fire at a mark with a
perfect aim, and collar any man who should show her any impertinence,
with a coolness and strength of limb perfectly wonderful to behold.
Born to command, she was not angry but merely surprised that any one
should dream of controlling her. It was only after a long resistance
to her wishes that the full torrent of her rage burst forth, but with
an overwhelming fury.
The French say "C'est le coeur qui fait le grenadier." If this be
true, what a very respectable regiment might be formed from the ranks
of the fair sex in all parts of the world, were they but armed and
equipped as the law directs! What an irresistible army would that be
which should be formed of troops like these! My friend, Mrs.
Boldenough, would have made an excellent commander to these imaginary
forces, and would, no doubt, have been as entirely successful in
overrunning the enemy's country and driving him from his last
entrenchments, as she was in the domestic circle triumphant over
husband and servants, and sweeping before her the convivial revellers
of the former by means of the rapid extinction of feudal customs, in
the shape of suppers and dinner parties.
Mr. Boldenough attempted to make a gallant defence; he stormed, raved,
threatened, commanded, and exhorted; scenes of conflict, dreadful to
witness, took place between the warlike hosts. The lord of the
mansion's burly visage turned pale at finding himself stormed down
with a noise and clatter which almost burst the tympanum of his ears.
If _he_ had scolded _she_ had raved more loudly, if _he_ had thundered
_she_ rang out her high shrill treble with as much force and strength
as a dinner-bell. Fairly beaten and vanquished, he shrunk from the
ground; she, undismayed, "keeping the natural ruby of her cheeks,
while his were pale from fear."
Voe victis! Wo to the conquered! The reign of Mr. Boldenough was
over; a new dynasty took possession of the throne. The old servants
were packed, bag and baggage, out of the mansion; the old
acquaintances of the host were impressively given to understand that
they were "never to come there no more."
The longer any arbitrary power is established the more secure its
authority becomes. So it proved with regard to Mrs. Boldenough. There
was no escaping from her military despotism; she was an excellent
housewife, and the best of good managers, and as might have been
expected, she immediately restrained and cut off the lavish
expenditure of the household. Mr. Boldenough made a few faint expiring
efforts in behalf of his favorite luxuries. Not the better part of
valor, is, as he discovered, discretion; for his helpmate held in her
hands the buying and the ordering of his dinners and his daily food,
and if he complained he was sure to find his condition worse than it
was before. In the course of time six sturdy Boldenoughs sprung up,
robust, hardy, noisy, and passionate as their mother, whose authority
they served to confirm and strengthen. Then, indeed, it was that my
friend Charles's shadow perceptibly grew less. He shrank from the
notice of his wife and the bold Titans, his sons. The first Mrs.
Boldenough's memory was certainly avenged.
* * * * *
The last time I met my friend he was evidently sinking slowly but
surely into the vale of years. His great rubicund countenance was
sunken and emaciated, his figure bent and meagre, his voice weak and
faint as a whisper, and his hearing _entirely gone_. From what cause
my readers may perhaps imagine. He was, indeed, stone deaf. I
question, however, if this were not almost a mercy, considering the
tower of Babel in which he dwelt. Nobody cared what became of him, for
he had never cared for any body.
Charles Boldenough departed this life shortly after having survived
his second marriage fifteen years. The physician had the effrontery to
ascribe to paralysis what evidently was no natural death. His end
might have excited some pity from his acquaintances and friends, if it
had not been for two things, namely, that he had no friends, and that
he merely received himself the same treatment which he had given
others. I was not sorry for him, I confess. Justice is so rare in this
world of ours, that I am not disposed to undervalue it when it is
summarily executed. The Amazonian relict of my friend Charles never
re-married. Whether she never found that daring man, who was Van
Amburgh-like enough to put his head in the lioness's mouth without
fear of having it snapped off at one blow, or whether the charge of
her young giants was sufficient for her occupation, or whether she was
conscious of having fulfilled her _mission_, I do not know. She
retained her formidable name to the end of her days.
Reader! I have done. If you are a woman you may smile, and if a man
you will sneer; but I assure you there is a moral in the _petite
histoire_ of the second wife. Adieu!
A STORY WITHOUT A NAME[3]
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.
_Continued from page 200._
CHAPTER XXVI.
There are seasons in the life of man, as well as in the course of the
year; and well, unhappily, have many poets painted them in all their
various aspects. But these seasons are subject to variations with
different men, as with different years. The summer of one man is all
bright and calm--a lapse of tranquil sunshine, and soft airs, and
gentle dews. With another, the same season passes in the thunder-storm
of passion--the tempests of war or ambition--and often, the gloomy
days of autumn or of winter overshadowed the rich land, and spoiled
the promised harvest.
It was an autumn-like period during the next three or four months of
the family of Sir Philip Hastings. For the first time, uncertainty and
doubt fell upon the family generally. There had been differences of
temper and of character. There had been slight inconveniences. There
had been occasional sickness and anxiety. There had been all those
things which in the usual course of events diminished the sum of human
happiness even to the most happy. But there had been nothing the
least like uncertainty of position. There had been no wavering anxiety
from day to day as to what the morrow was to bring forth. There had
been none of that poison-drop in which the keenest shafts of fate are
dipped, "the looking for of evil."
Now, every day brought some new intelligence, and some new
expectation, and the mass was altogether unfavorable. Had the blow
fallen at once--had any one been in power to say, "Sir Philip
Hastings, you must resign all your paternal estates, and pay back at
once the rents for nearly twenty years--you must give up the rank and
station which you have hitherto held, and occupy a totally different
position in society!" Sir Philip would have submitted at once, and
with less discomfort than most of my readers can imagine. But it was
the wearing, irritating, exciting, yet stupefying progress of a
lawsuit which had a painful and distressing effect upon his mind. One
day, he thought he saw the case quite clearly--could track the tricks
of his adversary, and expose the insecure foundation of his claim; and
then would come two or three days of doubt and discussion, and then
disappointment, and a new turn where every thing had to begin again.
But gradually proofs swelled up, first giving some show of justice to
the pretence that John Ayliffe had some claim, then amounting to a
probability in his favor, then seeming, to unlearned eyes, very
powerful as to his right.
I am no lawyer, and therefore cannot pursue all the stages of the
proceeding; but John Ayliffe had for his assistants unscrupulous men,
whose only aims were to succeed, and to shield themselves from danger
in case of detection; and their turns, and twists, and new points,
were manifold.
Sir Philip Hastings was tortured. It affected his spirits and his
temper. He became more gloomy--occasionally irritable, often
suspicious. He learned to pore over law papers, to seek out flaws and
errors, to look for any thing that might convey a double meaning, to
track the tortuous and narrow paths by which that power which bears
the name of Justice reaches the clear light of truth, or falls into
the thorny deep of error.
All this disturbed and changed him; and these daily anxieties and
discomforts affected his family too--Emily, indeed, but little, except
inasmuch as she was grieved to see her father grieve. But Lady
Hastings was not only pained and mortified herself--she contrived to
communicate a share of all she felt to others. She became
sad--somewhat sullen--and fancied all the time while she was
depressing her husband's spirits, and aggravating all he felt by
despondency and murmurs, instead of cheering and supporting him by
making light of the threatened evils, that she was but participating
sympathetically in his anxieties, and feeling a due share of his
sorrows. She had no idea of the duty of cheerfulness in a wife, and
how often it may prove the very blessing that God intended in giving
man a helpmate.
Sickness, it is true, had diminished somewhat the light spirits of her
youth, but she had assuredly become a creature of repinings--a
murmurer by habit--fit to double rather than divide any load of
misfortune which fate might cast upon a husband's shoulders.
Lady Hastings strove rather to look sad, Emily Hastings to be gay and
cheerful, and both did it perhaps a little too much for the mood and
circumstances in which Sir Philip then was. He wondered when he came
home, after an anxious day, that Lady Hastings did nothing to cheer
him--that every word was gloomy and sad--that she seemed far more
affected at the thought of loss of fortune and station than himself.
He wondered also that Emily could be so light and playful, so joyous
and seemingly unconcerned, when he was suffering such anxiety.
Poor Emily! she was forcing spirits in vain, and playing the kindliest
of hypocrites--fashioning every word, and every look, to win him away
from painful thought, only to be misunderstood.
But the misunderstanding was heightened and pointed by the hand of
malice. The emotion which Sir Philip had displayed in the court had
not been forgotten by some whom a spirit of revenge rendered keen and
clear-sighted.
It seemed impossible to mingle Emily's name directly with the law
proceedings which were taking place; but more than once in accidental
correspondence it was insinuated that secret information, which had
led to the development of John Ayliffe's claim, had been obtained from
some near relation of Sir Philip Hastings, and it became generally
rumored and credited in the county, that Emily had indiscreetly
betrayed some secrets of her father's. Of course these rumors did not
reach her ears, but they reached Sir Philip Hastings, and he thought
it strange, and more strange, that Emily had never mentioned to him
her several interviews with John Ayliffe, which he had by this time
learned were more than one.
Some strange feelings, disguised doubtless by one of those veils which
vanity or selfishness are ever ready to cast over the naked emotions
of the human heart, withheld him from speaking to his child on the
subject which caused him so much pain. Doubtless it was pride--for
pride of a peculiar kind was at the bottom of many of his actions. He
would not condescend to inquire, he thought, into that which she did
not choose to explain herself, and he went on in reality barring the
way against confidence, when, in truth, nothing would have given Emily
more relief than to open her whole heart to her father.
With Marlow, Sir Philip Hastings was more free and communicative than
with any one else. The young man's clear perceptions, and rapid
comprehensions on any point in the course of the proceedings going
on, his zeal, his anxiety, his thoughtfulness, and his keen sense of
what was just and equitable, raised him every day higher in the
opinion of Sir Philip Hastings, and he would consult with him for
hours, talk the whole matter over in all its bearings, and leave him
to solve various questions of conscience in which he found it
difficult himself to come to a decision. Only on one point Sir Philip
Hastings never spoke to him; and that was Emily's conduct with regard
to young Ayliffe. That, the father could not do; and yet, more than
once, he longed to do it.
One day, however, towards the end of six months after the first
processes had been issued, Sir Philip Hastings, in one of his morning
consultations with Marlow, recapitulated succinctly all the proofs
which young John Ayliffe had brought forward to establish a valid
marriage between his mother and the elder brother of the baronet.
"The case is very nearly complete," said Sir Philip. "But two or three
links in the chain of evidence are wanting, and as soon as I become
myself convinced that this young man is, beyond all reasonable doubt,
the legitimate son of my brother John, my course will be soon taken.
It behooves us in the first instance, Marlow, to consider how this may
affect you. You have sought the hand of a rich man's daughter, and now
I shall be a poor man; for although considerable sums have accumulated
since my father's death, they will not more than suffice to pay off
the sums due to this young man if his claim be established, and the
expenses of this suit must be saved by hard economy. The property of
Lady Hastings will still descend to our child, but neither she nor I
have the power to alienate even a part of it for our daughter's dowry.
It is right, therefore, Marlow, that you should be set free from all
engagements."
"When I first asked your daughter's hand, Sir Philip," replied Marlow,
"I heartily wished that our fortunes were more equal. Fate has granted
that wish, apparently, in making them so; and believe me, I rejoice
rather than regret that it is so, as far as I myself am concerned. We
shall have enough for comfort, Sir Philip, and not too much for
happiness. What need we more? But I cannot help thinking," he
continued, "that this suit may turn out differently from that which
you expect. I believe that the mind has its instincts, which, though
dangerous to trust to, guide us nevertheless, sometimes, more surely
than reason. There is an impression on my mind, which all the evidence
hitherto brought forward has been unable to shake, that this claim of
John Ayliffe is utterly without foundation--that it is, in fact, a
trumped up case, supported by proofs which will fall to pieces under
close examination."
Sir Philip Hastings shook his head. "But one thing more," he said,
"and I am myself convinced. I will not struggle against conviction,
Marlow; but the moment I feel morally sure that I am defending a bad
cause, that instant I will yield, be the sacrifice what it may.
Nothing on earth," he continued, in a stern abstracted tone, "shall
ever prevent my doing that which I believe right, and which justice
and honor require me to do. Life itself and all that makes life dear
were but a poor sacrifice in the eyes of an honest man; what then a
few thousand acres, and an empty designation?"
"But, my dear Sir Philip," replied Marlow, "let us suppose for one
moment that this claim is a fictitious one, and that it is supported
by fraud and forgery, you will allow that more than a few months are
required to investigate all the particulars thoroughly, and to detect
the knavery which may have been committed?"
"My dear Marlow," replied Sir Philip, "conviction comes to each mind
accordingly as it is naturally constituted or habitually regulated. I
trust I have studied the nature of evidence well--well enough to be
satisfied with much less than mere law will require. In regard to all
questions which come under the decision of the law, there are, in
fact, two juries who decide upon the merits of the evidence--one,
selected from our fellow men--the other in the bosom of the parties
before which each man shall scrupulously try the justice of his own
cause, and if the verdict be against him, should look upon himself but
as an officer to carry the verdict into execution. I will never act
against conviction. I will always act with it. My mind will try the
cause itself; and the moment its decision is pronounced, that instant
I will act upon it."
Marlow knew that it was in vain to argue farther, and could only trust
that something would occur speedily to restore Sir Philip's confidence
in his own rights.
Sir Philip, however, was now absent very frequently from home. The
unpleasant business in which he was engaged, called him continually to
the county town, and many a long and happy hour might Marlow and Emily
have passed together had not Lady Hastings at this time assumed a
somewhat new character--apparently so only--for it was, in fact,
merely a phase of the old one. She became--as far as health and
indolence would admit--the most prudent and careful mother in the
world. She insinuated that it was highly improper for Emily to walk or
ride alone with her acknowledged lover, and broadly asserted that
their previous rambles had been permitted without her knowledge, and
from inadvertence. During all Marlow's afternoon visits, she took
especial care to sit with them the whole time, and thus she sought to
deprive them of all means of free and unconstrained communication.
Such would have been the result, too, indeed, had it not been for a
few morning hours snatched now and then; partly from a habit of
indulgence, and partly from very delicate health, Lady Hastings was
rarely, if ever, down to breakfast, and generally remained in her
drawing-room till the hour of noon was past.
The hours of Sir Philip's absence were generally tedious enough to
himself. Sometimes a day of weary and laborious business occupied the
time; but that was a relief rather than otherwise. In general the day
was spent in a visit to the office of his lawyer, in finding the
information he wanted, or the case he had desired to be prepared, not
ready for him, in waiting for it hour after hour, in tedious gloomy
meditation, and very often riding home without it, reflecting on the
evils of a dilatory system which often, by the refusal of _speedy_
justice, renders ultimate justice unavailable for any thing but the
assertion of an abstract principle. He got tired of this mode of
proceeding: he felt that it irritated and disordered him, and after a
while, whenever he found that he should be detained in suspense, he
mounted his horse again, and rode away to amuse his mind with other
things.
The house of Mrs. Hazleton being so near, he more than once paid her a
visit during such intervals. His coming frequently was not altogether
convenient to her; for John Ayliffe was not an unfrequent visitor at
her house, and Mrs. Hazleton had to give the young man a hint to let
her see him early in the morning or late in the evening. Nevertheless,
Mrs. Hazleton was not at all displeased to cultivate the friendship of
Sir Philip Hastings. She had her objects, her purposes, to serve, and
with her when she put on her most friendly looks towards the baronet
she was not moved merely by that everyday instinctive hypocrisy which
leads man to cover the passions he is conscious of, with a veil of the
most opposite appearances, but it was a definite hypocrisy, with
objects distinctly seen by herself, and full of purpose.
Thus, and for these reasons, she received Sir Philip Hastings on all
occasions with the highest distinction--assumed, with a certain
chameleon quality which some persons have, the color and tone of his
mind to a considerable degree, while yet the general features of her
own character were preserved sufficiently to shield her from the
charge of affectation. She was easy, graceful, dignified as ever, with
a certain languid air, and serious quietness which was very engaging.
She never referred in her conversations with Sir Philip to the suit
that was going on against him, and when he spoke of it himself, though
she assumed considerable interest, and seemed to have a personal
feeling in the matter, exclaiming, "If this goes on, nobody's estates
will be secure soon!" she soon suffered the subject to drop, and did
not recur to it again.
One day after the conversation between Sir Philip and Marlow, part of
which has been already detailed, Sir Philip turned his horse's head
towards Mrs. Hazleton's at a somewhat earlier hour than usual. It was
just half past ten when he dismounted at the door, but he knew her
matutinal habits and did not expect to find her occupied. The servant,
however, instead of showing him into the small room where she usually
sat, took him to the great drawing-room, and as he went, Sir Philip
heard the voices of Mrs. Hazleton and another person in quick and
apparently eager conversation. There was nothing extraordinary in
this, however, and he turned to the window and gazed out into the
park. He heard the servant go into the morning room, and then
immediately all sound of voices ceased. Shortly after, a horse's feet,
beating the ground rapidly, caught the baronet's ear, but the rider
must have mounted in the courtyard and taken the back way out of the
park; for he came not within Sir Philip's sight. A moment or two
after, Mrs. Hazleton appeared, and there was an air of eagerness and
excitement about her which was not at all usual. She seated Sir Philip
beside her, however, with one of her blandest looks, and then laying
her hand on his, said, in a kind and sisterly tone, "Do tell me, Sir
Philip--I am not apt to be curious, or meddle with other people's
affairs; but in this I am deeply interested. A rumor has just reached
me from Hartwell, that you have signified your intention of abandoning
your defence against this ridiculous claim upon your property. Do tell
me if this is true?"
"Partly, and partly false," replied Sir Philip, "as all rumors are.
Who gave you this information?"
"Oh, some of the people from Hartwell," she replied, "who came over
upon business."
"The tidings must have spread fast," replied Sir Philip; "I announced
to my own legal advisers this morning, and told them to announce to
the opposite party, that if they could satisfy me upon one particular
point, I would not protract the suit, putting them to loss and
inconvenience and myself also."
"A noble and generous proceeding, indeed," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an
enthusiastic burst of admiration. "Ah, dear Emily, I can see your
mediation in this."
Sir Philip started as if a knife had been plunged into him, and with a
profound internal satisfaction, Mrs. Hazleton saw the emotion she had
produced.
"May I ask," he said, in a dry cold tone, after he had recovered
himself a little, "May I ask what my daughter can have to do with this
affair?"
"Oh, really--in truth I don't know," said Mrs. Hazleton, stammering
and hesitating, "I only thought--but I dare say it is all nonsense.
Women are always the peacemakers, you know, Sir Philip, and as Emily
knew both parties well, it seemed natural she should mediate between
them."
"Well?--" said Sir Philip Hastings to himself, slowly and
thoughtfully, but he only replied to Mrs. Hazleton, "No, my dear
Madam, Emily has had nothing to do with this. It has never formed a
subject of conversation between us, and I trust that she has
sufficient respect for me, and for herself, not to interfere unasked
in my affairs."
The serpent had done its work; the venom was busy in the veins of Sir
Philip Hastings, corrupting the purest sources of the heart's
feelings, and Mrs. Hazleton saw it and triumphed.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Emily was as gay as a lark. The light of love and happiness was in her
eyes, the hue of health was upon her cheek, and a new spirit of hope
and joy seemed to pervade all her fair form. So Sir Philip Hastings
found her on the terrace with Marlow when he returned from Hartwell.
She was dressed in a riding habit, and one word would have explained
all the gaiety of her mood. Lady Hastings, never very consequent in
her actions, had wished for some one of those things which ladies wish
for, and which ladies only can choose. She had felt too unwell to go
for it herself; and although she had not a fortnight before expressed
her strong disapprobation of her daughter and Mr. Marlow even walking
out alone in the park, she had now sent them on horseback to procure
what she wanted. They had enjoyed one of those glorious rides over the
downs, which seem to pour into the heart fresh feelings of delight at
every step, flooding the sense with images of beauty, and making the
blood dance freely in the veins. It seemed also, both to her and
Marlow, that a part of the prohibition was removed, and though they
might not perhaps be permitted to walk out together, Lady Hastings
could hardly for the future forbid them to ride. Thus they had come
back very well pleased, with light hearts within, and gay hopes
fluttering round them.
Sir Philip Hastings, on the other hand, had passed a day of
bitterness, and hard, painful thought. On his first visit to the
county town, he had, as I have shown, been obliged once more to put
off decision. Then came his conference with Mrs. Hazleton. Then he had
returned to his lawyer's office, and found that the wanting evidence
had been supplied by his opponents. All that he had demanded was
there; and no apparent flaw in the case of his adversary. He had
always announced his attention of withdrawing opposition if such
proofs were afforded, and he did so now, with stern, rigid, and
somewhat hasty determination--but not without bitterness and regret.
His ride home, too, was troubled with dull and grievous thoughts, and
his whole mind was out of tune, and unfit to harmonize with gaiety of
any kind. He forgot that poor Emily could not see what had been
passing in his bosom, could not know all that had occurred to disturb
and annoy him, and her light and cheerful spirits seemed an offence to
him.
Sir Philip passed on, after he had spoken a few words to Marlow, and
sought Lady Hastings in the room below, where she usually sat after
she came down. Sir Philip, as I have shown, had not been nurtured in a
tender school, and he was not very apt by gentle preparation to soothe
the communication of any bad tidings. Without any circumlocution,
then, or prefatory remarks of any kind, he addressed his wife in the
following words: "This matter is decided, my dear Rachel. I am no
longer Sir Philip Hastings, and it is necessary that we should remove
from this house within a month, to your old home--the Court. It will
be necessary, moreover, that we should look with some degree of
accuracy into the state of our future income, and our expenditure.
With your property, and the estate which I inherit from my mother,
which being settled on the younger children, no one can take from me,
we shall still have more than enough for happiness, but the style of
our living must be altered. We shall have plenty of time to think of
that, however, and to do what we have to do methodically."
Lady Hastings, or as we should rather call her now, Mistress Hastings,
seemed at first hardly to comprehend her husband's meaning, and she
replied, "You do not mean to say, Philip, that this horrible cause is
decided?"
"As far as I am concerned, entirely," replied Sir Philip Hastings. "I
shall offer no farther defence."
Lady Hastings fell into a fit of hysterics, and her husband knowing
that it was useless to argue with her in such circumstances, called
her maid, and left her.
There was but a dull dinner-party at the Hall that day. Sir Philip was
gloomy and reserved, and the news which had spread over the house, as
to the great loss of property which he had sustained, soon robbed his
daughter of her cheerfulness.
Marlow, too, was very grave; for he thought his friend had acted, not
only hastily, but imprudently. Lady Hastings did not come down to
dinner, and as soon as the meal was over Emily retired to her mother's
dressing-room, leaving Marlow and her father with their wine. Sir
Philip avoided the subject of his late loss, however, and when Marlow
himself, alluded to it, replied very briefly.
"It is done," he said, "and I will cast the matter entirely from my
mind, Marlow. I will endeavor, as far as possible, to do in all
circumstances what is right, whatever be the anguish it costs me.
Having done what is right, my next effort shall be to crush every
thing like regret or repining. There is only one thing in life which
could give me any permanent pain, and that would be to have an
unworthy child."
Marlow did not seem to remark the peculiar tone in which the last
words were uttered, and he replied. "There, at least, you are most
happy, Sir Philip; for surely Emily is a blessing which may well
compensate for any misfortunes."
"I trust so--I think so," said Sir Philip, in a dry and hasty manner,
and then changing the subject, he added, "Call me merely Philip
Hastings, my good friend. I say with Lord Verulam, 'The Chancellor is
gone.' I mean I am no longer a baronet. That will not distress me,
however, and as to the loss of fortune, I can bear it with the most
perfect indifference."
Mr. Hastings reckoned in some degree without his host, however. He
knew not all the petty annoyances that were in store for him. The
costs he had to pay, the back-rents which were claimed, the long and
complicated accounts that were to be passed, the eager struggle which
was made to deprive him of many things undoubtedly his own; all were
matters of almost daily trouble and irritation during the next six
months. He had greatly miscalculated the whole amount of expenses.
Having lived always considerably within his income, he had imagined
that he had quite a sufficient amount in ready money to pay all the
demands that could be made upon him. But such was far from being the
case. Before all the debts were paid, and the accounts closed, he was
obliged to raise money upon his life-interest in his mother's
property, and to remain dependent, as it were, upon his wife's income
for his whole means. These daily annoyances had a much greater effect
upon Mr. Hastings than any great and serious misfortune could have
had. He became morose, impatient, gloomy. His mind brooded over all
that had occurred, and all that was occurring. He took perverted views
of many things, and adhered to them with an obstinacy that nothing
could shake.
In the mean time all the neighbors and friends of the family
endeavored to show their sympathy and kindness by every means in their
power. Even before the family quitted the Hall, the visitors were more
numerous than they had ever been before, and this was some consolation
to Mistress Hastings, though quite the contrary to her husband, who
did not indeed appear very frequently amongst the guests, but remained
in his own study as much as possible.
It was a very painful day for every one, and for Emily especially,
when they passed the door of the old Hall for the last time, and took
their way through the park towards the Court. The furniture in great
part, the books, the plate, had gone before; the rooms looked vacant
and desolate, and as Emily passed through them one by one, ere she
went down to the carriage, there was certainly nothing very attractive
in their aspect. But there were spots there associated with many dear
memories--feelings--fancies--thoughts--all the bright things of early,
happy youth; and it was very bitter for her to leave them all, and
know that she was never to visit them again.
She might, and probably would, have fallen into one of her deep
reveries, but she struggled against it, knowing that both her father
and her mother would require comfort and consolation in the coming
hours. She exerted herself, then, steadily and courageously to bear up
without a show of grief, and she succeeded even too well to satisfy
her father. He thought her somewhat light and frivolous, and judged it
very strange that his daughter could quit her birth-place, and her
early home, without, apparently, one regretful sigh. He himself sat
stern, and gloomy, and silent, in the carriage, as it rolled away.
Mistress Hastings leaned back, with her handkerchief over her eyes,
weeping bitterly. Emily alone was calmly cheerful, and she maintained
this demeanor all the way along till they reached the Court, and
separated till dinner-time. Then, however, she wept bitterly and long.
Before she had descended to meet her parents at dinner, she did her
best to efface all traces of her sad employment for the last hour. She
did not succeed completely, and when she entered the drawing-room, and
spoke cheerfully to her father, he raised his eyes to her face, and
detected, at once, the marks of recent tears on her swollen eyelids.
"She has been weeping," said Mr. Hastings to himself; "can I have been
mistaken?"
A gleam of the truth shot through his mind, and comforted him much,
but alas, it was soon to be lost again.
From feelings of delicacy, Marlow had absented himself that day, but
on the following morning he was there early, and thenceforward was a
daily visitor at the Court. He applied himself particularly to cheer
Emily's father, and often spent many hours with him, withdrawing Mr.
Hastings' mind from all that was painful in his own situation, by
leading it into those discussions of abstract propositions of which he
was so fond. But Marlow was not the only frequent visitor at the
Court. Mrs. Hazleton was there two or three times in the week, and was
all kindness, gentleness, and sympathy. She had tutored herself well,
and she met Mr. Marlow as Emily's affianced husband, with an ease and
indifference which was marvellously well assumed. To Mrs. Hastings she
proved the greatest comfort, although it is not to be asserted that
the counsels which she gave her, proved at all comfortable to the rest
of the household, and yet Mrs. Hazleton never committed herself. Mrs.
Hastings could not have repeated one word that she said, that any one
on earth could have found fault with. She had a mode of insinuating
advice without speaking it--of eking out her words by looks and
gestures full of significance to the person who beheld them, but
perfectly indescribable to others.
She was not satisfied, however, with being merely the friend and
confidante of Mrs. Hastings. She must win Emily's father also, and she
succeeded so well that Mr. Hastings quite forgot all doubts and
suspicions, and causes of offence, and learned to look upon Mrs.
Hazleton as a really kind and amiable person, and as consistent as
could be expected of any woman.
Not one word, however, did Mrs. Hazleton say in the hearing of Emily's
father which could tend in any degree to depreciate the character of
Mr. Marlow, or be construed into a disapproval of the proposed
marriage. She was a great deal too wise for that, knowing the
character of Mr. Hastings sufficiently to see that she could effect no
object, and only injure herself by such a course.
To Emily she was all that was kind and delightful. She was completely
the Mrs. Hazleton of former days; but with the young girl she was less
successful than with her parents. Emily could never forget the visit
to her house, and what had there occurred, and the feelings which she
entertained towards Mrs. Hazleton were always those of doubt. Her
character was a riddle to Emily, as well it might be. There was
nothing upon which she could definitely fix as an indication, of a bad
heart, or of duplicity of nature, and yet she doubted; nor did Marlow
at all assist in clearing her mind; for although they often spoke of
Mrs. Hazleton, and Marlow admitted all her bright and shining
qualities, yet he became very taciturn when Emily entered more deeply
into that lady's character. Marlow likewise had his doubts, and to say
sooth, he was not at all well pleased to see Mrs. Hazleton so
frequently with Mrs. Hastings. He did not well know what it was he
feared, but yet there was a something which instinctively told him
that his interests in Emily's family would not find the most favorable
advocate in Mrs. Hazleton.
Such was the state of things when one evening there was assembled at
the house of Mr. Hastings, a small dinner party--the first which had
been given since his loss of property. The summer had returned, the
weather was beautiful, the guests were cheerful and intellectual, and
the dinner passed off happily enough. There were several gentlemen and
several ladies present, and amongst the latter was Mrs. Hazleton.
Politics at that time ran high: the people were not satisfied
altogether with the King whom they had themselves chosen, and several
acts of intolerance had proved that promises made before the
attainment of power are not always very strictly maintained when power
has been reached. Mr. Hastings had never meddled in the strife of
party. He had a thorough contempt for policy and politicians, but he
did not at all object to argue upon the general principles of
government, in an abstract manner, and very frequently startled his
hearers by opinions, not only unconstitutional, and wide and far from
any of the received notions of the day, but sometimes also, very
violent, and sometimes at first sight, irreconcilable with each other.
On the present occasion the conversation after dinner took a political
turn, and straying away from their wine, the gentlemen walked out into
the gardens, which were still beautifully kept up, and prolonged their
discussion in the open air. The ladies too--as all pictures show they
were fond of doing in those days--were walking amongst the flowers,
not in groups, but scattered here and there. Marlow was naturally
making his way to the side of Emily, who was tying up a shrub at no
great distance from the door, but Mrs. Hazleton unkindly called him to
her, to tell her the name of a flower which she did not know. In the
mean time Mr. Hastings took his daughter by the arm, leaning gently
upon her, and walking up and down the terrace, while he continued his
discussion with a Northumberland gentleman known in history as Sir
John Fenwick. "The case seems to be this," said Mr. Hastings, in reply
to some question or the other; "all must depend upon the necessity.
Violent means are bad as a remedy for any thing but violent evils, but
the greatness of the evil will often justify any degree of vigor in
the means. Will any one tell me that Brutus was not justified in
stabbing Caesar? Will any one tell me that William Tell was not
justified in all that he did against the tyrant of his country? I will
not pretend to justify the English regicides, not only because they
condemned a man by a process unknown to our laws, and repugnant to all
justice, but because they committed an act for which there was no
absolute necessity. Where an absolute necessity is shown,
indeed--where no other means can be found of obtaining freedom,
justice and security, I see no reason why a King should not be put to
death as well as any other man. Nay more, he who does the deed with a
full appreciation of its importance, a conscience clear of any private
motives, and a reasoning sense of all the bearings of the act he
commits, merits a monument rather than a gibbet, though in these days
he is sure to obtain the one and not the other."
"Hush, hush, do not speak so loud, my dear sir," said Sir John
Fenwick; "less than those words brought Sidney's head to the block."
"I am not afraid of mine," replied Mr. Hastings, with a faint smile;
"mine are mere abstract notions with regard to such things; very
little dangerous to any crowned heads, and if they thought fit to put
down such opinions, they would have to burn more than one half of all
the books we have derived from Rome."
Sir John Fenwick would not pursue the subject, however, and turned the
conversation in another course. He thought indeed that it had gone far
enough, especially when a young lady was present; for he was one of
those men who have no confidence in any woman's discretion, and he
knew well, though he did not profit much by his knowledge, that things
very slight, when taken abstractedly, may become very dangerous if
forced into connection with events. Philip Hastings would have said
what he did say, before any ears in Europe, without the slightest
fear, but as it proved, he had said too much for his own safety. No
one indeed seemed to have noticed the very strong opinions he had
expressed except Sir John Fenwick himself, and shortly after the party
gathered together again, and the conversation became general and not
very interesting.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Men have lived and died in the pursuit of two objects the least
worthy, on which the high mind of man could ever fix, out of all the
vain illusions that lead us forward through existence from youth to
old age: the philosopher's stone, and the elixir of life. Gold, gold,
sordid gold--not competence--not independence, but wealth--profuse,
inexhaustible wealth--the hard food of Croesus; strange that it
should ever form the one great object of an immortal spirit! But
stranger still, that a being born to higher destinies should seek to
pin itself down to this dull earth forever--to dwell in a clay hut,
when a palace gates are open--to linger in a prison, when freedom may
be had--to outlive affections, friendships, hope and happiness--to
remain desolate in a garden where every flower has withered. To seek
the philosopher's stone--even could it have been found--was a madness:
but to desire the elixir of life was a worse insanity.
There was once, however, in the world's history a search--an eager
search, for that which at first sight may seem nearly the same as the
great elixir; but which was in reality very, very different.
We are told by the historians of America, that a tradition prevailed
amongst the Indians of Puerto Rico, that in one of the islands on the
coast, there was a fountain which possessed the marvellous power of
restoring, to any one who bathed in its waters, all the vigor and
freshness of youth, and that some of the Spanish adventurers sought it
anxiously, but sought in vain. Here indeed was an object worthy of
desire--here, what the heart might well yearn for, and mourn to find
impossible.
Oh, that fountain of youth, what might it not give back! The easy
pliancy of limb: the light activity of body: the calm, sweet sleep;
the power of enjoyment and acquisition: the freshness of the heart:
the brightness of the fancy: the brilliant dreams: the glorious
aspirations: the beauty and the gentleness: the innocence: the love.
We, who stand upon the shoal of memory, and look back in our faint
dreams, to the brighter land left far behind, may well long for that
sweet fountain which could renew--not life--but youth.
Oh youth--youth! Give me but one year of youth again. And it shall
come. I see it there, beyond the skies, that fountain of youth, in the
land where all flowers are immortal.
It is very strange, however, that with some men, when youth is gone,
its very memories die also. They can so little recollect the feelings
of that brighter time, that they cannot comprehend them in others:
that they become a mystery--a tale written in a tongue they have
forgotten.
It was so with Philip Hastings, and so also with his wife. Neither
seemed to comprehend the feelings of Marlow and Emily; but her father
understood them least. He had consented to their union: he approved of
her choice; but yet it seemed strange and unpleasant to him, that her
thoughts should be so completely given to her lover. He could hardly
believe that the intense affection she felt for another, was
compatible with love towards her parent. He knew not, or seemed to
have forgotten that the ordinance to leave all and cleave unto her
husband, is written in woman's heart as plainly as in the Book.
Nevertheless, that which he felt was not the least like
jealousy--although I have seen such a thing even in a parent towards a
child. It was a part of the problem of Emily's character, which he was
always trying to solve without success.
"Here," he thought, "she has known this young man, but a short
time--no years--not very many months; and yet, it is clear, that in
that short space, she has learned to love him better than those to
whom she is bound by every tie of long enduring affection and
tenderness."
Had he thought of comparing at all, her conduct and feelings with
those of his own youth, he would still have marvelled; for he would
have said, "I had no tenderness shown me in my young days--I was not
the companion, the friend, the idol, the peculiar loved one of father
or mother, so long as my elder brother lived. I loved her who first
really loved me. From _my_ parents, I had met small affection, and but
little kindness. It was therefore natural that I should fix my love
elsewhere, as they had fixed theirs. But with my child, the case is
very different."
Yet he loved Marlow well--was fond of his society--was well pleased
that he was to be his daughter's husband; but even in his case, Mr.
Hastings was surprised in a certain degree; for Marlow did not, and
could not conceal that he loved Emily's society better than her
father's--that he would rather a great deal be with her than with
Brutus himself or Cato.
This desire on the part of Marlow to be ever by her side, was a great
stumbling-block in the way of Mr. Hastings' schemes for re-educating
Marlow, and giving that strength and vigor to his character of which
his future father-in-law had thought it susceptible. He made very
little progress, and perhaps Marlow's society might even have had some
influence upon him--might have softened--mitigated his character; but
that there were counteracting influences continually at work.
All that had lately happened--the loss of fortune and of station--the
dark and irritating suspicions which had been instilled into his mind
in regard to his child's conduct--the doubts which had been produced
of her frankness and candor--the fact before his eyes, that she loved
another better, far better, than himself, with a kind word, now and
then, from Mrs. Hazleton, spoken to drive the dart deeper into his
heart, had rendered him somewhat morose and gloomy,--apt to take a bad
view of other people's actions, and to judge less fairly than he
always wished to judge. When Marlow hastened away from him to rejoin
Emily, and paint, with her, in all the brightest colors of
imagination, a picture of the glowing future, her father would walk
solitary and thoughtful, giving himself up to dark and unprofitable
reveries.
Mrs. Hastings in the mean time would take counsel with Mrs. Hazleton,
and they would settle between them that the father was already
dissatisfied with the engagement he had aided to bring about, and that
a little persevering opposition on the part of the mother, would
ultimately bring that engagement to an end.
Mrs. Hastings, too, thought--or rather seemed to feel, for she did not
reduce it to thought--that she had now a greater right to exercise
some authority in regard to her daughter's marriage, as Emily's whole
fortune must proceed from her own property. She ventured to oppose
more boldly, and to express her opinion against the marriage, both to
her husband and her child. It was against the advice of Mrs. Hazleton
that she did so; for that lady knew Mr. Hastings far better than his
own wife knew him; and while Emily's cheek burned, and her eye swam in
tears, Mr. Hastings replied in so stern and bitter a tone that Mrs.
Hastings shrunk back alarmed at what she herself had done.
But the word had been spoken: the truth revealed. Both Mr. Hastings
and Emily were thenceforth aware that she wished the engagement
between her daughter and Marlow broken off--she was opposed to the
marriage; and would oppose it.
The effect of this revelation of her views upon her child and her
husband, was very different. Emily had with surprise and
grief--not, as her father thought, with anger; and she resolved
thenceforth to endeavor to soften her mother's feelings towards him
she loved, and to win her consent to that upon which all her own
happiness depended; but in which her own happiness could not be
complete without a mother's approbation.
Mr. Hastings, on the contrary, entertained no expectation that his
wife would ever change her views, even if she changed her course. Some
knowledge--some comprehension of her character had been forced upon
him during the many years of their union; and he believed that, if all
open remonstrance, and declared opposition had been crushed by his
sharp and resolute answer, there would nevertheless be continual or
ever recurring efforts on Mrs. Hastings' part, to have her own way,
and thwart both his purposes and Emily's affection. He prepared to
encounter that sort of irritating guerrilla warfare of last words, and
sneers, and innuendoes, by which a wife sometimes endeavors to
overcome a husband's resolutions; and he hardened himself to resist.
He knew that she could not conquer in the strife; but he determined to
put an end to the warfare, either by some decided expression of his
anger at such proceedings, or by uniting Emily to Marlow, much sooner
than he had at first proposed.
The latter seemed the easiest method, and there was a great chance of
the marriage, which it had been agreed should be delayed till Emily
was nineteen, taking place much earlier, when events occurred which
produced even a longer delay.
One of the first steps taken by Mr. Hastings to show his wife that her
unreasonable opposition would have no effect upon him, was not only to
remove the prohibition of those lovers' rambles which Mrs. Hastings
had forbidden, but to send his daughter and her promised husband forth
together on any pretext that presented itself. He took the opportunity
of doing so, first, when his wife was present, and on the impulse of
the moment, she ventured to object. One look--one word from her
husband, however, silenced her; for they were a look and word too
stern to be trifled with, and Emily went to dress for her walk; but
she went with the tears in her eyes. She was grieved to find that all
that appertained to her happiness was likely to become a cause of
dissension between her father and her mother. Had Marlow not been
concerned--had his happiness not been also at stake--she would have
sacrificed any thing--every thing--to avoid such a result; but she
felt she had no right to yield to caprice, where he was to suffer as
well as herself.
The walk took place, and it might have been very sweet to both, had
not the scene which had immediately preceded poured a drop of
bitterness into their little cup of joy. Such walks were often renewed
during the month that followed; but Emily was not so happy as she
might have been; for she saw that her father assumed a sterner, colder
tone towards his wife, and believed that she might be the unwilling
cause of this painful alienation. She knew not that it proceeded
partly from another source--that Mr. Hastings had discovered, or
divined, that his wife had some feeling of increased power and
authority from the fact of his having lost his large estates, and of
her property being all that remained to them both.
Poor Emily! Marlow's love, that dream of joy, seemed destined to
produce, for a time at least, nothing but grief and anxiety. Her
reveries became more frequent, and more deep, and though her lover
could call her from them in a moment, no one else had the power.
One day, Marlow and his Emily--for whom every day his love increased;
for he knew and comprehended her perfectly, and he was the only
one--had enjoyed a more happy and peaceful ramble than usual, through
green lanes, and up the hill, and amidst the bright scenery which lay
on the confines of the two counties, and they returned slowly towards
the house, not anticipating much comfort there. As they approached,
they saw from the road a carriage standing before the door, dusty, as
if from a long journey, but with the horses still attached. There were
three men, too, with the carriage, besides the driver, and they were
walking their horses up and down the terrace, as if their stay was to
be but short. It was an unusual number of attendants, even in those
days, to accompany a carriage in the country, except upon some visit
of great ceremony; and the vehicle itself--a large, old, rumbling
coach, which had seen better days--gave no indication of any great
state or dignity on the part of its owner.
Why, she knew not, but a feeling of fear, or at least anxiety, came
over Emily as she gazed, and turning to Marlow, she said, "Who can
these visitors be?"
"I know not, indeed, dear love," he answered, "but the equipage is
somewhat strange. Were we in France," he added, with a laugh, "I
should think it belonged to an exempt, bearing a _lettre de cachet_."
Emily smiled also, for the idea of her father having incurred the
anger of any government or violated any law seemed to her quite out of
the question.
When they approached the door, however, they were met by a servant,
with a grave and anxious countenance, who told her that her father
wished to see her immediately in the dining hull.
"Is there any one with him?" asked Emily, in some surprise.
"Yes, Mistress Emily," replied the man, "there is a strange gentleman
with him. But you had better go in at once; for I am afraid things are
not going well."
Marlow drew her arm through his, and pressed it gently to make her
feel support; and then went into the eating-room, as it was usually
called, by her side.
When they entered they found the scene a strange and painful one. Mr.
Hastings was seated near a window, with his hat on, and his cloak cast
down on a chair beside him. His wife was placed near him, weeping
bitterly; and at the large table in the middle of the room was a
coarse-looking man, in the garb of a gentleman, but with no other
indication but that of dress of belonging to a superior class. He was
very corpulent, and his face, though shadowed by an enormous wig, was
large and bloated. There was food and wine before him, and to both he
seemed to be doing ample justice, without taking any notice of the
master of the house or his weeping lady.
Mr. Hastings, however, rose and advanced towards his daughter, as soon
as she entered, and in an instant the eye of the gormandizing guest
was raised from his plate and turned towards the party, with a look of
eager suspicion.
"Oh, my dear father, what is this?" exclaimed Emily, running towards
him.
"One of those accidents of life, my child," replied Mr. Hastings,
"from which I had hoped to be exempt--most foolishly. But it seems,"
he continued, "no conduct, however reserved, can shield one from the
unjust suspicions of princes and governments."
"Very good cause for suspicion, sir," said the man at the table,
quaffing a large glass of wine. "Mr. Secretary would not have signed a
warrant without strong evidence. Vernon is a cautious man, sir, a very
cautious man."
"And who is this person?" asked Marlow, pointing to the personage who
spoke.
"A messenger of the powers that be," replied Mr. Hastings; "it seems
that because Sir John Fenwick dined here a short time ago, and has
since been accused of some practices against the state, his Majesty's
advisers have thought fit to connect me with his doings, or their own
suspicions, though they might as well have sent down to arrest my
butler or my footman, and I am now to have the benefit of a journey to
the Tower of London under arrest."
"Or to Newgate," said the messenger, significantly.
"To London, at all events," replied Mr. Hastings.
"I will go with you," said Marlow, at once; but before the prisoner
could answer, the messenger interfered, saying, "That I cannot allow."
"I am afraid you must allow it," replied Marlow, "whether it pleases
you or not."
"I will have no one in the carriage with my prisoner," said the
messenger, striking the table gently with the haft of his knife.
"That may be," answered Marlow; "but you will not, I presume, pretend
to prevent my going where I please in my own carriage; and when once
in London, I shall find no difficulty, knowing Mr. Vernon well."
The latter announcement made a great change in the messenger's
demeanor, and he became much more tame and docile from the moment it
struck his ear.
Mr. Hastings indeed would fain have persuaded his young friend to
remain where he was, and looked at Emily with some of that tenderer
feeling of a parent which so often prompts to every sacrifice for a
child's sake. But Emily thanked Marlow eagerly for proposing to go;
and Mrs. Hastings, even, expressed some gratitude.
The arrangements were soon made. There being no time to send for
Marlow's own carriage and horses, it was agreed that he should take a
carriage belonging to Mr. Hastings, with his horses, for the first
stage; the prisoner's valet was to accompany his friend, and immediate
orders were given for the necessary preparations.
When all was ready, Emily asked some question of her father, in a low
tone, to which he replied, "On no account, my child. I will send for
you and your mother should need be; but do not stir before I do. This
is a mere cloud--a passing shower, which will soon be gone, and leave
the sky as bright as ever. We do not live in an age when kings of
England can play at foot-ball with the heads of innocent men, and I,
as you all know, am innocent."
He then embraced his wife and child with more tenderness than he was
wont to show, and entering the carriage first, was followed by the
messenger. The other men mounted their horses, and Marlow did not
linger long behind the sad cavalcade.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Philip Hastings had calculated much upon his Roman firmness; and he
could have borne death, or any great and sudden calamity, with
fortitude; but small evils often affect us more than great ones. He
knew not what it is to suffer long imprisonment, to undergo the
wearing, grinding process of life within a prison's walls. He knew not
the effect of long suspense either, of the fretful impatience for some
turn in our fate, of the dull monotony of long continued expectation
and protracted disappointment, of the creeping on of leaden despair,
which craves nothing in the end but some change, be it for better or
for worse.
They took him to Newgate--the prison of common felons, and there, in a
small room, strictly guarded, he remained for more than two months. At
first he would send for no lawyer, for he fancied that there must
either be some error on the part of the government, or that the
suspicion against him must be so slight as to be easily removable. But
day went by on day, and hour followed hour, without any appearance of
a change in his fate. There came a great alteration, however, in his
character. He became morose, gloomy, irritable. Every dark point in
his own fate and history--every painful event which had occurred for
many years--every doubt or suspicion which had spread gloom and
anxiety through his mind, was now magnified a thousand-fold by long,
brooding, solitary meditation. He pondered such things daily, hourly,
in the broad day, in the dead, still night, when want of exercise
deprived him of sleep, till his brain seemed to turn, and his whole
heart was filled with stern bitterness.
Marlow, who visited him every day by permission of the Secretary of
State, found him each day much changed, both in appearance and manner;
and even his conversation gave but small relief. He heard with small
emotion the news of the day, or of his own family. He read the letters
of his wife and daughter coldly. He heard even the intelligence that
Sir John Fenwick was condemned for high treason, and to die on a
scaffold, without any appearance of interest. He remained
self-involved and thoughtful.
At length, after a long interval--for the government was undecided how
to proceed in his and several other cases connected with that famous
conspiracy--a day was appointed for his first examination by the
Secretary of State; for matters were then conducted in a very
different manner from that in which they are treated at present; and
he was carried under guard to Whitehall.
Vernon was a calm and not unamiable man; and treating the prisoner
with unaffected gentleness, he told him that the government was very
anxious to avoid the effusion of any more blood, and expressed a hope
that Mr. Hastings would afford such explanations of his conduct as
would save the pain of proceeding against him. He did not wish by any
means, he said, to induce him to criminate himself; but merely to give
such explanations as he might think fit.
Philip Hastings replied, with stern bitterness, that before he could
give any explanations, he must learn what there was in his conduct to
explain. "It has ever been open, plain, and straightforward," he said.
"I have taken no part in conspiracies, very little part in politics. I
have nothing to fear from any thing I myself can utter; for I have
nothing to conceal. Tell me what is the charge against me, and I will
answer it boldly. Ask what questions you please; and I will reply at
once to those to which I can find a reply in my own knowledge."
"I thought the nature of the charge had been made fully known to you,"
replied Vernon. "However, it is soon stated. You are charged, Mr.
Hastings, with having taken a most decided part in the criminal
designs, if not in the criminal acts, of that unfortunate man Sir John
Fenwick. Nay, of having first suggested to him the darkest of all his
designs, namely, the assassination of his Majesty."
"I suggest the assassination of the King!" exclaimed Mr. Hastings. "I
propose such an act! Sir, the charge is ridiculous. Has not the only
share I ever took in politics been to aid in placing King William upon
the throne, and consistently to support his government since? What the
ministers of the crown can seek by bringing such a charge against me,
I know not; but it is evidently fictitious, and of course has an
object."
Vernon's cheek grew somewhat red, and he replied warmly, "That is an
over-bold assertion, sir. But I will soon satisfy you that it is
unjust, and that the crown has not acted without cause. Allow me,
then, to tell you, that no sooner had the conspiracy of Sir John
Fenwick been detected, and his apprehension been made known, than
information was privately given--from your own part of the country--to
the following effect;" and he proceeded to read from a paper, which
had evidently been folded in the form of a letter, the ensuing words:
"That on the ---- day of May last, when walking in the gardens of his
own house, called 'The Court,' he--that is yourself, sir--used the
following language to Sir John Fenwick: 'When no other means can be
found of obtaining justice, freedom, and security, I see no reason why
a king should not be put to death as well as any other man. He who
does the deed merits a monument rather than a gibbet.' Such was the
information, sir, on which government first acted in causing your
apprehension."
The Secretary paused, and for a few moments Mr. Hastings remained
gazing down in silence, like a man utterly confounded. Vernon thought
he had touched him home; but the emotions in the prisoner's bosom,
though very violent, were very different from those which the
Secretary attributed to him. He remembered the conversation well, but
he remembered also that the only one who, besides Sir John Fenwick,
was with him at the moment, was his own child. I will not dwell upon
his feelings, but they absorbed him entirely, till the Secretary went
on, saying--"Not satisfied with such slender information, Mr.
Hastings, the government caused that unhappy criminal, Sir John
Fenwick, to be asked, after his fate was fixed, if he recollected your
having used those words to him, and he replied, 'something very like
them.'"
"And I reply the same," exclaimed Philip Hastings, sternly. "I did use
those words, or words very like them. But, sir, they were in
connection with others, which, had they been repeated likewise, would
have taken all criminal application from them. May I be permitted to
look at that letter in your hand, to see how much was really told, how
much suppressed?"
"I have read it all to you," said Mr. Vernon, "but you may look at it
if you please," and he handed it to him across the table. Philip
Hastings spread it out before him, trembling violently, and then drew
another letter from his pocket, and laid them side by side. He ran his
eye from one to the other for a moment or two, and then sunk slowly
down, fainting upon the floor.
While a turnkey and one of the messengers raised him, and some efforts
were made to bring him back to consciousness, Mr. Vernon walked round
the table and looked at the two letters which were still lying on it.
He compared them eagerly, anxiously. The handwriting of the one was
very similar to that of the other, and in the beginning of that which
Mr. Hastings had taken from his pocket, the Secretary found the words,
"My dear father." It was signed, "Emily Hastings;" and Vernon
instantly comprehended the nature of the terrible emotion he had
witnessed.
He was really, as I have said, a kind and humane man, and he felt very
much for the prisoner, who was speedily brought to himself again, and
seated in a chair before the table.
"Perhaps, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "we had better not protract this
conversation to-day. I will see you again to-morrow, at this hour, if
you would prefer that arrangement."
"Not at all, sir," answered the prisoner, "I will answer now, for
though the body be weak, the spirit is strong. Remember, however, that
I am not pleading for life. Life is valueless to me. The block and axe
would be a relief. I am only pleading to prevent my own character from
being stained, and to frustrate this horrible design. I used the words
imputed to me; but if I recollect right, with several qualifications,
even in the sentence which has been extracted. But before that, many
other words had passed which entirely altered the whole bearing of the
question. The conversation began about the regicides of the great
rebellion, and although my father was of the party in arms against the
King, I expressed my unqualified disapprobation of their conduct in
putting their sovereign to death. I then approached as a mere matter
of abstract reasoning, in which, perhaps, I am too apt to indulge, the
subject of man's right to resist by any means an unendurable tyranny,
and I quoted the example of Brutus and William Tell; and it was in the
course of these abstract remarks, that I used the words which have
been cited. I give you my word, however, and pledge my honor, that I
entertained no thought, and had no cause whatever to believe that Sir
John Fenwick who was dining with me as an old acquaintance,
entertained hostile designs against the government of his native
land."
"Your admitted opinions, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "seem to me to be
very dangerous ones."
"That may be," replied the prisoner, "but in this country at least,
sir, you cannot kill a man for opinions."
"No; but those opinions, expressed in conversation with others who
proceed to acts," replied Vernon, "place a man in a very dangerous
position, Mr. Hastings. I will not conceal from you that you are in
some peril; but at the same time I am inclined to think that the
evidence, without your admissions this day, might prove insufficient,
and it is not my intention to take advantage of any thing you have
said. I shall report to his Majesty accordingly; but the proceedings
of the government will be guided by the opinion of the law officers of
the crown, and not by mine. I therefore can assure you of nothing
except my sincere grief at the situation in which you are placed."
"I little heed the result of your report, sir," replied Mr. Hastings;
"life, I say, is valueless to me, and if I am brought to trial for
words very innocently spoken, I shall only make the same defence I
have done this day, and I shall call no witness; the only witness of
the whole," he added with stern, concentrated bitterness, "is probably
on the side of the crown."
Mr. Hastings was then removed to Newgate, leaving the two letters on
the table behind him, and as soon as he was gone, Mr. Vernon sent a
messenger to an inn near Charing Cross, to say he should be glad to
speak for a few moments with Mr. Marlow. In about half an hour Marlow
was there, and was received by Vernon as an old acquaintance. The door
was immediately closed, and Marlow seated himself near the table,
turning his eyes away, however, as an honorable man from the papers
which lay on it.
"I have had an interview with your friend, Mr. Marlow," said the
Secretary, "and the scene has been a very painful one. Mr. Hastings
has been more affected than I expected, and actually fainted."
Marlow's face expressed unutterable astonishment, for the idea of
Philip Hastings fainting under any apprehension whatever, could never
enter into the mind of any one who knew him.
"Good God!" he exclaimed, "what could be the cause of that? Not fear,
I am sure."
"Something more painful than even fear, I believe," replied Mr.
Vernon; "Mr. Hastings has a daughter, I believe?"
"Yes, sir, he has," replied Marlow, somewhat stiffly.
"Do you know her handwriting?" asked the Secretary.
"Yes, perfectly well," answered Marlow.
"Then be so good as to take up that letter next you," said Vernon,
"and tell me if it is in her hand."
Marlow took up the paper, glanced at it, and at once said, "Yes;" but
the next instant he corrected himself, saying, "No, no--it is very
like Emily's hand--very, very like; but more constrained."
"May not that proceed from an attempt to disguise her hand?" asked
Vernon.
"Or from an attempt on the part of some other to imitate it," rejoined
Marlow; "but this is very strange, Mr. Vernon; may I read this
through?"
"Certainly," replied the Secretary, and Marlow read every word three
or four times over with eager attention. They seemed to affect him
very much, for notwithstanding the Secretary's presence, he started up
and paced the room for a minute or two in thought.
"I must unravel this dark mystery," he said at length. "Mr. Vernon,
there have been strange things taking place lately in the family of
Mr. Hastings. Things which have created in my mind a suspicion that
some secret and external agency is at work to destroy his peace as
well as to ruin his happiness, and still more, I fear, to ruin the
happiness of his daughter. This letter is but one link in a long chain
of suspicious facts, and I am resolved to sift the whole matter to the
bottom. The time allowed me to do so, must depend upon the course you
determine to pursue towards Mr. Hastings. If you resolve to proceed
against him I must lose no time--although I think I need hardly say,
there is small chance of your success upon such evidence as this;" and
he struck the letter with his fingers.
"We have more evidence, such as it is," replied Vernon, "and he
himself admits having used those words."
Marlow paused thoughtfully, and then replied, "He may have used
them--he is very likely to have used them; but it must have been quite
abstractedly, and with no reference to any existing circumstance. I
remember the occasion on which Sir John Fenwick dined with him,
perfectly. I was there myself. Now let me see if I can recall all the
facts. Yes, I can, distinctly. During the whole of dinner--during the
short time we sat after dinner, those words were never used; nor were
conspiracies and treason ever thought of. I remember, too, from a
particular circumstance, that when we went out into the gardens Mr.
Hastings took his daughter's arm, and walked up and down the terrace
with Sir John Fenwick at his side. That must have been the moment. But
I need hardly point out to you, Mr. Vernon, that such was not a time
when any man in his senses, and especially a shrewd, cunning, timid
man, like Sir John Fenwick, would have chosen for the development of
treasonable designs."
"Were any other persons near?" asked Vernon; "the young lady might
have been in the conspiracy as well as her father."
Marlow laughed. "There were a dozen near," he answered; "they were
subject to interruption at any moment--nay, they could not have gone
on for three minutes; for that pace of time did not elapse after the
gentlemen entered the garden where the ladies were, before I was at
Emily's side, and not one word of this kind was spoken afterwards."
"Then what could have induced her to report those words to the
government?" asked Mr. Vernon.
"She never did so," replied Marlow, earnestly; "this is not her
handwriting, though the imitation is very good--and now, sir," he
continued, "if it be proper, will you explain to me what course you
intend to pursue, that I may act accordingly? For as I before said, I
am resolved to search this mystery out into its darkest recesses. It
has gone on too long already."
Vernon smiled. "You are asking a good deal," he said, "but yet my
views are so strong upon the subject, that I think I may venture to
state them, even if the case against Mr. Hastings should be carried a
step or two farther--which might be better, in order to insure his not
being troubled on an after occasion. I shall strongly advise that a
_nolle prosequi_ be entered, and I think I may add that my advice will
be taken."
"You think I have asked much already, Mr. Vernon," said Marlow, "but I
am now going to ask more. Will you allow me to have this letter? I
give you my word of honor that it shall only be used for the purposes
of justice. You have known me from my boyhood, my dear sir; you can
trust me."
"Perfectly, my young friend," replied Vernon, "but you must not take
the letter to-day. In two days the action of the government will be
determined, and if it be such as I anticipate you shall have the
paper, and I trust it will lead to some discovery of the motives and
circumstances of this strange transaction. Most mysterious it
certainly is; for one can hardly suppose any one but a fiend thus
seeking to bring a father's life into peril."
"A fiend!" exclaimed Marlow, with a scoff, "much more like an angel,
my dear sir."
"You seem to think so," said Vernon, smiling, "and I trust, though
love is blind, he may have left you clear-sighted in this instance."
"I think he has," answered Marlow, "and as this young lady's fate is
soon to be united to mine, it is very necessary I should see clearly.
I entertain no doubt, indeed, and I say boldly, that Emily never wrote
this letter. It will give me, however, a clue which perhaps may lead
me to the end of the labyrinth, though as yet I hardly see my way. But
a strong resolution often does much."
"Might it not be better for you," asked Vernon, "to express your
doubts in regard to this letter to Mr. Hastings himself? He was
terribly affected, as well he might be, when he saw this document, and
believed it to be his own child's writing."
Marlow mused for some time ere he replied. "I think not," he answered
at length; "he is a man of peculiar disposition; stern, somewhat
gloomy, but honorable, upright, and candid. Now what I am going to say
may make me appear as stern as himself, but if he is suffering from
doubts of that dear girl, knowing her as well as he does, he is
suffering from his own fault, and deserves it. However, my object is
not to punish him, but thoroughly, completely, and for ever to open
his eyes, and to show him so strongly that he has done his child
injustice, as to prevent his ever doing the like again. This can only
be done by bringing all the proofs upon him at once, and my task is
now to gather them together. To my mere opinion regarding the
handwriting, he would not give the slightest heed, but he will not
shut his eyes to proofs. May I calculate upon having the letter in two
days?"
"I think you may," replied Vernon.
"Then when will Mr. Hastings be set free?" asked Marlow; "I should
wish to have some start of him into the country."
"That will depend upon various circumstances," replied the Secretary;
"I think we shall take some steps towards the trial before we enter
the _nolle prosequi_. It is necessary to check in some way the
expression of such very dangerous opinions as he entertains."
Marlow made no reply but by a smile, and they soon after parted.
* * * * *
One of the writers upon German politics reproduces the story of the
Englishman, Frenchman, and German, who were required by some unknown
power to draw a sketch of a camel. The Frenchman hied him to the
Jardin des Plantes, and came back with his sketch in no time. The more
conscientious Briton at once took ship for the East, and returned with
his drawing from the life of nature. But the German went to the
library of the prince of his country to ascertain what a camel was. He
lived to a great age, with the reputation of being very learned, and a
little crazed with the depth of his researches, and on his death-bed
told his physician in confidence that he did not believe there was
such an animal at all!
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by G. P.
R. James, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New-York.
THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[4]
TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF
H. DE ST. GEORGES.
_Continued from page 211_
VIII.--THE FOUR PULCINELLI.
Doctor Matheus, as the reader must have guessed from the previous
chapter, was Freiderick von Apsberg, one of the four Pulcinelli of the
ball of San Carlo, the young German who was the son of the venerable
pastor of the city of Ellogen, in Bohemia.
Freiderick von Apsberg had been educated in one of the most celebrated
universities of Germany, that of Leipsic,--where he had imbibed that
very social contagion, a passion for detestable demagogic fancies,
with which all those scientific _lazaretti_ of Germany were filled.
The dreamy and often poetic forms in which those ideas were
enunciated, easily touched the heart of that long peaceable nation,
and opened to it a field of mad and resistless hopes which could not
but plunge it into that abyss of disorder, trouble, and crime, in
which it has been recently seen sweltering.
Freiderick, not thinking his country yet prepared for the propagation
of his principles, sought for an echo among other European nations.
The rising _Carbonarism_ of Italy opened its arms to him, and received
him as one of its future supporters. There he had become acquainted
with Monte-Leone, and participated in the religion of which he was the
high priest. On his return to Germany, after his expulsion from Italy,
he had discovered that the work had advanced during his absence, that
the myth had been personified, and that the seed had germinated.
Germany, especially the _poor_ of Germany, began to be deeply
agitated; the _Carbonaro_ made many proselytes, and won many new
members to the association. The death of his father having endowed him
with some fortune, he completed his studies, and became one of the
most fervent apostles of that mysterious science of which he spoke to
the Duke d'Harcourt; but, being made uncomfortable by the German
police, he left his country, after having established a connection
with the _Vente_ which had been formed there. He then came to France,
where we find him under the name of Doctor Matheus, and living in the
awful No. 13 of Babylonne street;--his house was the rendezvous of the
principal members of the _Vente_ of Paris, where his profession amply
accounted for the many visitors he received. His three friends,
however, fearing that their frequent visits would be remarked, often
had recourse to disguises. Thus it is that we saw the Englishman, the
Auvergnot, and the peasant, so cavalierly treated by Mlle Crepineau.
"This is the hour of consultation, my dear Doctor," said the Viscount
to Von Apsberg; "where are the patients?" In a serious tone the
latter replied, "In France, Italy, Germany, and all the
continent.--Their disease is a painful oppression, an extreme
lassitude in every member of the social body, a slow fever, and
general feeling of indisposition."
"What physician will cure so many diseases?" asked the Viscount.
"_Carbonarism!_"
"Are you sure of this?" asked d'Harcourt, who, probably for the first
time in his life, said any thing reasonable. This was a doubt, almost
a defection to that cause into which his generous and enthusiastic
nature had cast him. Rene d'Harcourt had originally formed but a
passing intimacy with Monte-Leone, the object of which was pleasure
alone. The latter, however, soon discovered his friend's courage and
truth, and ultimately initiated him in all his political mysteries and
dreams. D'Harcourt, attracted by the occult power exerted by the Count
over his associates, and led astray to a degree by his specious
theories in relation to national happiness, which Monte-Leone knew how
to dress so well in the most energetic language, was carried away by
the temptation of becoming a political personage; perhaps, also, as la
Felina said at the Etruscan villa, not a little under the influence of
idleness, and the wish to be able to tell wonders of himself, joined
in all these plots. He had become affiliated to the society of which
Monte-Leone was the chief, and when he was expelled from Italy,
represented himself to his particular friends as a martyr of political
faith: he had, by the by, a very faint confidence in it, and cared
very little about it; and this, even, was insensibly lessened when, on
his return to France and his family, he saw the high distinction which
his father enjoyed, and was aware that by rank and birth he would one
day be called on to play a conspicuous part in the history of his
country. He could not understand, therefore, how this country could
demand a general convulsion to obtain a hypothetical better, in place
of a positive good.
This, as we have said, was the state of his mind, when Monte-Leone,
Taddeo, and Frederick returned to Paris. They talked to him of his
oaths, of the pledge they had taken, of his position as a
_Carbonaro_,--to which he would make no reply. The Viscount a second
time falling under the influence of Monte-Leone, captivated again by
the charms of friendship, and the glory of being the regenerator of
his country, fancied himself also bound by his honor to pursue the
path on which he had entered. He therefore resumed his old chains, and
became the SEIDE of a cause to which he was attracted neither by
sympathy nor by reason.
The phrase which had escaped from the lips, or rather the good sense
of the young man, sounded to Monte-Leone like a false note in a
chorus. He said, "Rene, God forbid that we should seek to link you to
our fate if you do not believe in our cause. Remain inactive in the
strife about to ensue; your honor will be a sufficient pledge for your
silence in relation to our secrets. Henceforth be a brother to us only
in love. Von Apsberg, the grand archivest of the association, will
efface your name from our list; and whatever misfortune befall us, I
shall at least have the satisfaction of knowing that you were not
involved in our ruin."
This offer, instead of being received by Rene d'Harcourt, increased
his zeal, which otherwise would have died away.
"Leave you?" said he,--"abandon you, when the hour of danger has
come?--desert the field of battle when the combat is about to begin?
My friendship, my courage, and my honor, all forbid me to do so."
The four friends clasped their hands, and Monte-Leone said,--"Now
listen to me, for time is precious. The _Vente_ of the kingdom of
Naples, and those of all Italy, of which I refuse to be any longer the
chief, do not on that account distrust me, but have just given me a
striking proof of their confidence. It is so great that I hesitate
even to accept it."
"Speak," said all the friends at once.
"I have received this letter," said Monte-Leone.
"The delegates of all the Italian _Vente_, relying on the prudence,
valor, and judgment of Count Monte-Leone, refer to him the decision of
the time when, and the manner in which, it is proper for them to
manifest their principles. Count Monte-Leone is requested to open a
communication with the Vente of France, that there may be a
simultaneous movement with those of Italy."
"Thus," said the Count, "in accepting this mission, I become the god,
the sovereign arbiter of this immense work, and have its fate in my
hands."
Von Apsberg said, "you have that of Italy and Germany--for the _Vente_
of my country will act when I speak, or rather when you do."
An expression of pride flashed across Monte-Leone's face. He had
evidently been mortified at not becoming supreme director, yet the
staff of command was again placed in his grasp. It was not now,
though, to confer the command of a single country, but, to use his own
words, he became the all-powerful controller of Europe, and, in his
opinion, the hope of the universe. This strange man, made up of
greatness and littleness, like all the political idealists who erect
altars to the creatures of their dreams, and ignorantly make a
sacrifice of logic, good sense and reason--this man who sighed for
universal liberty, was delighted at the prospect of great, despotic,
and aristocratic power, to be exerted by his will alone in three great
countries. The Count then yielded willingly to the persuasions of his
friends, and promised to fulfil the wishes of the Italian _Vente_. He
said, "The time for action is not come. The French police, in fact,
is busy only with the known enemies of the Government, with
persons who are compromised in these petty plots originated by
self-love--regret for the past, and ambition. Our object is greater;
for we do not serve a man, but an idea, or rather the assemblage of
ideas, to be expanded everywhere at once, and to replace the darkness
of old civilization by torrents of far more dazzling light. The dawn
of that light though has not yet come."
"Yet," said Von Apsberg, "the notes I receive announce the formation
of new _Vente_ on all sides of us."
"Paris is filled with Carbonari," added d'Harcourt. "Our secret and
masonic sign reveals the existence of brothers everywhere to me. I see
them in the public places, on the benches of the lawyers, and among
the very judges."
"True," said Von Apsberg, "and as an evidence of what d'Harcourt says,
look at these voluminous names." The friends examined them carefully.
"It matters not," said Monte-Leone, "too much precipitation would ruin
all. Remember our device, _an auger piercing the globe_."
During all this conversation, Taddeo had remained silent and
thoughtful, and the Count at last observed it.
"My friend," said he, "why are you so sad? Can it be, like d'Harcourt
just now, that you have any doubt or scruple about our cause? Do you
hesitate at the dangers?"
Taddeo, as if he were aroused from a dream, said: "The dangers I
anxiously invite, as likely to free me from a life which is become a
burden."
Monte-Leone grew pale at these words, for he knew the reason of his
deep despair; and the iron of remorse pierced his heart. Before,
however, Taddeo's friends could question him, a strange accident
attracted the attention of the actors of this scene.
A noise, at first faint and then louder, which resembled that of the
spider in its web, suddenly interrupted the conversation. It seemed to
come from the interior of one of the panels.
"Here it is," said Monte-Leone, pointing at one of the book-cases.
"Yes," said Von Apsberg, with a sign of admiration.
"Can we have been overheard?" said d'Harcourt.
"I think so," said the false Matheus.
The Visconte and Taddeo at once took pistols from their pockets and
cocked them.
"It is of no use," said the physician, pointing to the arms of his
friends. "Put on your disguises, for it is unnecessary even that the
brothers should know you. Kant has said, _When there is a secret to be
kept it is desirable that all who are intrusted with it should be
deaf, blind, and dumb_. Let us then tempt no one, and remember there
is no one here but a doctor and two patients."
"But the Count," said d'Harcourt, "is he forgotten?"
"Ah," said the doctor, "he must be seen."
The noise increased, and something of impatience was remarkable in the
little taps on the wood-work.
"It is he, is it not?" said Monte-Leone.
"Yes," said Frederick, "for no one else uses that entrance."
Von Apsberg then approached the library and touched a spring which
threw open a panel on which the books were arranged. With a key the
doctor then opened another door, through which a man entered. The day
was advanced, and the shades of night enwrapped almost all the room.
The scene we describe took place in the most remote and consequently
in the darkest portion of the vast studio. The appearance of the man
assumed a terrible and fantastic air.
"Ah! what is there so urgent that you trouble thus, my dear Pignana?"
said the Count to the new comer.
Signor Pignana, our old Neapolitan acquaintance, the pretended tailor
and owner of the Etruscan House, the mysterious guide of the Count
among the ruins of San Paolo, bowed to the earth as he always did
before the Count, and was evidently about to speak, when he stopped
short and pointed to the peasant and my lord, the profiles of whom he
could see distinctly in a moonbeam which came through one of the
windows.
"They are brethren," said Matheus, "you may speak."
"Well then," said Pignana, piqued by the brusque manner of the Count,
"I thought the case _urgent_, (he accented the last word,) and
therefore came to warn your excellency of danger."
"What danger?" asked the Count, with his usual _sang-froid_.
"And since his excellency," said Pignana, "forbade me to come to his
house, I was obliged to come here, though I believe my appearance is
respectable enough to pass scrutiny anywhere."
"Signor Pignana, I must now, once for all, tell you the motives of my
conduct. I would not do so in any case were I not satisfied how
devoted you are to me."
Pignana bowed again.
"Your appearance," said the Count, "is certainly very honest and
respectable. The _fund_ of honesty is, however, perhaps not so good;
for as a smuggler, a skimmer of the seas----, but I stop here, lest I
should displease you, for you may, after all, have something on your
conscience. There is, you know, a certain Neapolitan Ambassador at
Paris who was once a minister of police in our beautiful country. Now,
Signor Pignana, people never have to do with the police without some
very unpleasant consequences. I have an idea also that the Duke of
Palma, at whose house I was a fortnight ago, did not fail to inform
the Prefect of the Police of the city, of my being in Paris. This is
a delicate attention from one police to another. The Duke, also,
probably pointed out many of my old acquaintances, among whom you have
the honor to be; you will understand, by aid of your knowledge of
_doubtful affairs_, that if it be known that I receive you here,
people will not think you come to teach me to play _the mandoline_, on
which instrument you are, I learn, a great performer. Consequently,
and not to rob myself of your invaluable services, and the care over
my household which you exercise, we have made a means of entrance for
you here, and through him you can communicate with me--how Signor
Pignana, an intelligent man like you, should understand this, without
its being necessary for me to give all these details."
"I am delighted to be assured," said Signor Pignana, proudly, "that
without these grave reasons the Count would not be unwilling to see
me."
"But," said Taddeo, "what is the danger of which you spoke just now?"
"Ah! Signor Taddeo Rovero!" said the shrewd Pignana, who had
recognized the voice of the young man.
"This is bad!" murmured Frederick.
"I am delighted to meet Signor Taddeo Rovero," said Pignana,
"especially as what I have to say relates also to him."
"To me?" said Taddeo.
"Come to the point, then," said the Count.
"Thus it is, Monsignore," said Pignana: "I was, in obedience to
orders, hanging about your excellency's house, and until to-day never
saw any thing suspicious. This evening I saw two dark figures planted
opposite to your hotel, at the corner of Verneuil-street. The
motionless position of these men seemed strange, and the manner that
they examined others who came in and out of the hotel was more so,
until at last I became satisfied that they watched you. I was
confirmed in this when approaching them in the dark I heard one of the
men say to his companion: '_He has gone out on foot, his carriage has
not left!_'"
"Go on," said the Count, "this becomes interesting."
"This is not all," said Pignana; "the same man said in a brusque tone
to his companion: '_Go to Saint Dominique-street, the other lives
there!_'"
"That is myself," said Taddeo, "and the Marquis, my sister, and I do
live in that street, in the Hotel of the Prince de Maulear."
"So I thought," said Pignana, bowing to Taddeo, "and I hurried hither
where I knew Count Monte-Leone was to be found. Your excellency will
now see that it was a matter of importance."
"Do not go home to-night!" said d'Harcourt.
"Remain here!" said von Apsberg.
"Leave Paris!" said Pignana.
"Why should I not go home? Because it pleases some robber to wait near
my hotel, to rob me? or because some bravo wishes, _a la Venitienne_,
to make a dagger-sheath of my heart? The man must act, too, _on his
own account_, for I know of no enemies in this city. Every where I am
sought for and _feted_, and our secret associates, with whom the world
is full, and who know my old adventures, secure every day a triumphal
reception for me in the saloons of Paris. But if the mysterious
watchers of whom Signor Pignana speaks, be by chance of the birds of
night--owls who have escaped from the police, I make myself more
liable to suspicion by staying away, than by returning to my hotel.
Then, by ----, as my old friend Pietro used to say--I did not furnish
a house to sleep out of it. To remain here as Von Apsberg suggests,
would be a greater mistake yet; for in this house are all our
documents and the lists of our associates. This is the treasury, the
holy ark of the society, and here, under the name of Matheus, is the
very soul. Let us then beware how we give the huntsman any clue to
this precious deposit, or all will be lost. Pignana proposes that I
should leave Paris, but I will not do so. Here are all our hopes of
probable success. The light which will illumine Paris, must radiate
hence. Besides, gentlemen," continued Monte-Leone, "I find that you
all become easily excited at a very natural thing. In case even of a
judicial investigation, you forget--_The brethren know each other, but
can furnish no evidence of the participation of each other in any
enterprise_. Our records or our deeds alone can betray us; our papers
are here beneath three locks, and our actions are yet to be. Do not,
therefore, be uneasy about my fate, and let Taddeo and myself discover
the explanation of this riddle."
"Do not be imprudent," said Von Apsberg to Monte-Leone, as he saw him
hurriedly dress himself in the costume of an Auvergnat; "remember that
we are in Paris, where the streets are crowded, and not in
Naples--that a dagger-thrust is a great event here."
"Do not be uneasy," said the Count, "for I always conform to the
usages and customs of the country in which I am. In Italy I use the
dagger, and in France the stick."
Taking hold of the baton which Taddeo bore, more completely to assume
the roll of the villager, he brandished and twisted it in his fingers,
well enough to have made Fan-Fan, the king of the stick-players of the
day, envious.
"Shall I follow your _eccelenza_?" asked Signor Pignana.
"Certainly," said he, "but as a rear-guard, twenty paces behind me, in
order that you may give evidence, as a mere passer by, that the man I
shall beat to death wished to beat me. This will make me more
interesting in the eyes of the people this difficulty will attract."
When he saw Signor Pignana about to leave the room with him, he said,
"No! Mademoiselle Crepineau, the Argus of this house, saw only three
men come in; what will she think when she sees four leaving? Go out
then by the secret door, Pignana, and join us at the corner of the
_rue_ Belle-Chasse."
The door of the library was closed on Signor Pignana.
"Do you not wish me to go with you?" asked the Vicomte of Monte-Leone.
"For shame!" said Monte-Leone, "four to one--we would look like the
allied army marching against Monaco. Remain then a few minutes with
the doctor. The consultation of the Milord naturally enough may be
long."
The Auvergnat and the peasant of the boulirue passed before the chair
of Mademoiselle Crepineau, one with his handkerchief over his cheek,
and the other with a bandage over his eye. Recollecting that they had
been since eight o'clock with the doctor, she could not refrain from
saying, "The doctor is a very skilful man, but he is slow. After all,"
added she, "he may have taken a multitude of things from them, though
no one heard them cry out. People of their rank do not mind pain."
As they approached Verneuil-street, the Count proceeded a few steps in
advance of Taddeo. "Wait for me here," said he, pointing out a house
which stood yet farther back than the others, on the alignment of the
street, "and come to me if I call out." He then left the young man,
assumed a vulgar air, and straggled towards his hotel. Soon he saw in
an angle of the wall opposite to his house a motionless shadow, which
was certainly that of the man Pignana had pointed out to him. The
Count had a quick and keen eye, which recognized objects even in the
dark. He saw the two eyes which watched him, and which were fixed on
his hotel. They were moved from time to time, but only that on turning
again they might more easily recognize every passer. Monte-Leone, with
the presence of mind which never left him, and which characterized all
the decisive actions of his life, no sooner conceived his plan than he
put it into execution. He was anxious to know with what enemies he had
to deal, and could conceive of no better way than to question the man
himself. The question he put, it is true, was rather _brusque_, as
will be seen. When a few paces behind the man, who had not the least
suspicion, and had suffered him to come close to him, the Count faced
about and rushed on the stranger. He clasped his throat with one hand,
and with the other seized the stranger's weapons, which he naturally
enough concluded he wore. The latter uttered a cry, and an only cry,
which, by the by, was terrible. He was then silent. A stranger passing
by might have fancied those men were speaking confidentially together,
but never that one was strangling the other.
"One word," said Monte-Leone. "Tell me why you are here."
"On my own business," said the man.
"That is not true," said the Count. "You are not a robber--you have
been here for two hours. Many persons well dressed have down this
street, yet you did not attack them." The living vice which bound his
throat was again compressed. The man made a sign that he wished to
speak. The Count relaxed his hold.
"Whom do you watch?"
"Yourself."
"You know me, then?"
"Yes."
"Who bade you watch me?"
The stranger was silent. Feeling the iron hand again clasp him, he
muttered, "A great lady sent me."
"Her name?" said the Count, who began to guess, but who wished to be
sure.
"The Neapolitan ambassadress."
"And why does your companion stand in the Rue Saint-Dominique?"
"Then you know all?" said the wretch.
"All that I wish to," said the Count. "Speak out," said he, again
clasping his fingers tightly as if they had been a torture-collar.
"Speak now, or you will never do so again."
"Well," said the man, "my companion is ordered to ascertain if you
were not at the hotel of the Prince de Maulear. Why should I know any
thing about it?"
"Ah! this is unworthy," said the Count. "When her passions are
concerned nothing restrains this woman."
A painful sigh was the only reply to this exclamation. The Count
looked around, and saw Taddeo standing by him, pale and trembling.
IX.--A LETTER.
Leaning over the white shoulders of the charming Marquise de Maulear,
we are about to tempt our readers to the commission of a great
indiscretion. We will force them to listen to a letter which that lady
was writing to her mother the Signora Rovero, to inform the latter of
all her secret thoughts, and of what during the last two years had
taken place in her household. She sat, one morning, about nine
o'clock, in a beautiful boudoir, hung with rose- silk, over
which were falls of India muslin. This room was on the second floor of
the house, and there, with her head on her hand, Aminta wrote, on a
small table incrusted with Sevres porcelain, the following letter,
exhibiting the most intimate thoughts of her soul:
"MY KIND MOTHER: Twenty months ago I left Italy and
yourself, to accompany the Marquis de Maulear and his
excellent father to Paris. Since then my letters have not
suffered you to want details of things about which you are
so curious, which occurred in the course of my trip from
Naples hither, and of my reception by my husband's family.
The family of the Marquis, as you already know, is one of
the most important of Paris, both from rank, fortune, and
nobility, and did not therefore dare to receive with
coldness a stranger who came thus to take a place in its
bosom. The tender protection of my father-in-law made it a
duty to them to seem to me what they really were to him,
benevolent, kind, and affectionate. Long ago, I saw that the
sentiments they exhibited were not sincere; and I guessed
that beneath the affectionate manners of my new family,
there was hidden an icy vanity, and want of sympathy with
the young woman who had no ancestors, no birth, and almost
no fortune, who had thus, as it were, come among them to
usurp name, position, and influence, to which no one should
pretend who had not a lineage at least as princely as
theirs. I soon learned how little faith I should have in
their politeness, and the anxiety in my behalf which were
exacted by the _exigences_ of society, and above all by the
paternal protection of the Prince de Maulear. I was eager to
find in the friendship of those with whom I was cast
something of that kind reciprocity of sentiments which I was
anxious to exhibit to them. The first person to whom I
appealed replied to me by cold glances. On this person, dear
mother, I relied, not as a substitute for yourself, but as
one to advise me in the new life I was about to lead amid a
society the customs and language of which I was almost
ignorant of. This person was the Countess of Grandmesnil,
sister of the Prince, and aunt of my husband. The Countess
was passionately fond of my husband, whom she educated, and
perhaps was wounded at the idea of his having married
without consulting her. This union also put an end to hopes
which had long before been formed in relation to a similar
connection with that of the Duke d'Harcourt's, one of the
first families in France. Mademoiselle de Grandmesnil,
therefore, received me with cautious urbanity, repelled my
confidence, and made me look on her whom I had considered an
affectionate protectress as an enemy. The Marquis was not
aware of the Countess's sentiments to me, for when they saw
how fond he was, they redoubled their apparent care and
attention. I did not, though, remain ignorant of the thorn
hidden in the rose. This strange kind of intuition, dear
mother, which you have often remarked in me, was made
apparent by the most unimportant acts of the Countess, in
which she evidently exhibited an expression of her
indifference to me, and dissatisfaction at my marriage; I
armed myself with courage, and promised to contend with the
enemy provided for me by my evil fate. I resolved not to
suffer my husband to know any thing of my troubles, nor to
suffer the Countess's treatment to diminish my husband's
attachment towards the person who had provided for his
youth. To recompense me, however, for this want of
affection, I had two substitutes--the perpetually increasing
love of the Marquis, his tender submission to my smallest
wish, and the attachment of the Prince--an enigma he has
always refused to explain. Beyond all doubt this reason is
powerful and irresistible, for the mention of my father's
name made him open his arms, which, as I told you, he at
first was determined to close hermetically. Strange must
have been those talismanic sounds, changing the
deeply-rooted sentiments of an old man's heart, and making
him abandon the invariable principles of his mind, so as to
induce him to present me, the daughter of a noble of
yesterday, as one descended from a person whose virtues had
won for him an immortal blessing. I must also tell you that
I have seen more than one of the old friends of the Prince
stand, as if they were petrified, at hearing him speak thus.
I have recounted all those happy scenes, dear mother, merely
to compare the past with the present, which presents, alas,
a far different aspect. My brilliant sky is obscured--I see
in the horizon nothing but clouds. Perhaps I am mistaken,
and my too brilliant imagination, against which you have
often warned me, fills my mind with too melancholy ideas.
Were you but with me, could I but cast myself in your arms,
press you to my heart, and imbibe confidence from you!
Listen, then, to words I shall confide to this cold paper,
read it with the eyes of your soul, and tell me if I am
mistaken or menaced with misfortune.
"During the early portion of my residence in Paris, I lived
amid a whirlwind of pleasures, balls, and entertainments,
which soon resulted in satiety and lassitude. The attention
I attracted, the homage paid to me, flattered my vanity, and
pleased me; for they seemed to increase the Marquis's love,
and to make me more precious to him. After the winter came a
calmer season, and I welcomed it gladly, thinking the
Marquis and myself, to a degree, would live for each other,
and that this feverish, agitated and turbulent life, would
be followed by a period of more happiness. Three months
passed away in that kind of retirement in which those
inhabitants of Paris, who do not leave the city, indulge.
The Prince left us to visit his estates in another part of
France, and the Marquis and myself were alone. The Countess,
it is true, was with us; but her society, instead of adding
to our pleasures, was as annoying as possible. Accustomed
during my whole life to out-door existence, to long
excursions in the picturesque vicinity of our villa, I was
sometimes anxious to take morning strolls in the beautiful
gardens of Paris. The Countess said to my husband, one day,
that a woman of my age should not go out without him. As the
Marquis often rode, an exercise with which I am not
familiar, and as he had friends to see, and political
business to attend to, I was unable to go out but rarely.
Then I will say he offered me his arm anxiously, but this
exercise neither satisfied my taste, nor the demands of
health. There was also a perpetual objection to dramatic
performances, of which I was very fond; Henri did not like
them. The Countess, also, from religious scruples, was
opposed to them, and by various little and ingeniously
contrived excuses, I was utterly deprived of this innocent
amusement. My toilette was also a subject of perpetual
comment. The Countess said that I exaggerated the fashions,
that I looked foreign, and that the court was opposed to
innovations in the toilette, or again that the court
preferred the severe forms of dress. A young and brilliant
princess, though, gives tone to her court, and by her
elegance, luxury and taste, procures a support for crowds of
the Parisian work-people. Henri, over whom his aunt has
never ceased to exercise the same influence she did in
childhood, while he wished to support my ideas, really
supported hers. I saw with regret that the chief defect of
the Marquis was weakness of character, and perpetual
controversies about little matters produced a state of
feeling between us, which subsequently required a kind of
effort for us to overcome. This, however, dear mother, is
nothing; for I have not come to the really painful point of
my confessions. The gay season has returned, and the
principal people of Paris have returned to their hotels. I
liked to see Henri jealous, because this passion was, in my
opinion, an assurance of his love. Henri, who during the
early period of our marriage, would not have left me alone
for the world, now confides me exclusively to the care of
his father. The first time this took place, his absence was
a plausible excuse. He does not now even seek a pretext; a
whim, an appointment, are sufficient motives for him to
leave me. Whither does he go? How does he occupy himself?
This is the subject of my uneasiness and torment--yet he
loves me, he says, but a heart like mine, dear mother, is
not easily deceived. He does not love me as he used to. A
magnificent ball was given during the last month, by the
Neapolitan Ambassador, the Duke of Palma, who married the
famous Felina. Henri left the Prince and myself, as soon as
we came to the rooms; the whole night nearly passed away
without our seeing him. At last, however, he returned, pale
and exhausted. The Prince, who was unacquainted with what
had transpired at Sorrento, between his son and Monte-Leone,
introduced me to him, and asked me to receive him at our
hotel. I hesitated whether I should consent or not; when the
Marquis, with an air which lacerated my very heart, asked
the Count to visit me, assuring him that he would always be
welcome.
"_Welcome to him!_ dear mother. You understand that this man
had been his rival, and loved me. I will confess to you,
dear mother, as I do to God. He loves me yet, I am sure,
though he never told me so; for his looks are what they
were, and when he spoke, his emotion told me that he was
unaltered. Since that ball, Monte-Leone, thus authorized by
the Marquis, has visited me. My husband is not at all
displeased at it; tell me, do you think he loves me still?
Yesterday, dear mother, I went into my husband's room, to
look for a bottle of salts I had forgotten. The Marquis was
absent, and his secretary was open, a strange disorder
pervaded the room; a few papers were lying about, and among
others, I saw a column of figures; I was about to look at
them, and had already extended my hand towards it, when I
heard a cry, and on turning around saw my husband, pale and
alarmed. He advanced towards me, and seizing my arm
convulsively, said, Signora, who gave you a right to examine
my papers? It is an abuse of confidence which I never can
forgive. I grew pale with surprise and grief. 'Sir, said I,
such a reproach is unmerited, if there be any thing
improper, it is your tone and air.' I left the room, for I
was overpowered, and did not wish to weep before him. One
hour afterwards, on his knees, he besought me to pardon him
for an excitement which he would never be able to pardon
himself. He was once more, dear mother, kind as he had ever
been; he repeated his vows of eternal love, and exhibited
all his former tenderness. His looks hung on me as they used
to, and I began to hope he would continue to love me. A
cruel idea, however, pursued me, what was the secret shut up
in the paper he would not suffer me to read? Why did he,
usually so calm and cold, become so much enraged?"
Just then the letter of the Marquise de Maulear was interrupted by the
bell which announced the coming of visitors. Aminta remembered that it
was reception day, and persons came to say that several visitors
awaited her. She went down stairs. On the evening of the same day she
resumed her letter.
"I resume my pen to tell you of a strange circumstance which
occurred to-day. When I broke off so suddenly, I found some
visitors awaiting me. Visiting in Paris is insignificant and
meaningless, performed on certain fixed days. Conversation
on these occasions is commonplace. People only talk of the
pleasure of meeting, and slander is so much the vogue that
it is not prudent to leave certain rooms until every one
else has gone, lest you should be hacked to pieces by those
left behind. My father-in-law came into the room and gave
some life to the conversation. The Prince was not alone, for
Count Monte-Leone came with him. Why, dear mother, should I
conceal from you, that the presence of the Count causes
always an invincible distress? This man is so decided and
resolute that he never seemed to me like other people. He
seems half god and half demon. His keen and often expressive
glance, his firm voice made mild by emotion, the _tout
ensemble_ of his character, seems to call him to great
crimes or sublime actions.
"The Prince said, 'Do you know, Aminta, that the Count is
the only person in Paris whom I have to beg to come to see
you? I have absolutely to use violence. I had just now
almost to use violence to bring him hither.'
"'The Prince, Madame,' said the Count, respectfully, 'looks
on respect as reserve. The pleasure of seeing you is too
great for me to run the risk of losing it by abusing the
privilege.'
"'Bah! bah!' said the Prince, 'mere gallantry, nothing more.
We _emigres_, from associating with the English, have lost
some of our peculiarities; and I, at least, have contracted
one excellent custom. When an Englishman says to a man, "my
house is yours," he absolutely means what he says, and the
privilege should be used. Your host looks on you as a part
of his family, and people of the neighborhood esteem you as
much a part of the household as the old grandfather's chair
is. You go, come, sit at the table, eat and drink, as if you
were at home. This generous hospitality pleases me, because
it recalls that of our own ancestors.'
"'Brother,' said the Countess, 'this hospitality can never
be acclimated in France, especially in households where
there are as pretty women as in ours.'
"'Sister, such privileges are accorded only to people of the
honor of whom we are well-assured, like the Count. Besides,
travellers like ourselves are hard to please in beauty. Not
that the Marquise is not beautiful; but if you had been as
we were at Ceprano, if you had only read the interesting
chapter I have written in relation to that country, you
would see that many perfections are needed to wound hearts
that are so cosmopolitan as ours.'
"The Count was about to reply, when the doors were opened
and the Duchess of Palma was announced. I looked at
Monte-Leone just then, and he changed countenance at once. I
saw him immediately go to the darkest part of the room. This
was the first time I had ever received the Duchess of Palma.
There seemed no motive for her visit. I had paid mine after
the ball, and there was no obligation between us. The
Duchess is a beautiful, elegant, and dignified woman. It is
said she is of a noble family; and her manners evidently
betoken high cultivation. The Duchess told me kindly that
she had not seen enough of me at the ball, and that I must
take the visit as an evidence of her devotion and
admiration. The Prince of Maulear approached. 'We are
especially flattered, Duchess,' said he, and he emphasized
the word, looking at the same time at some ladies I
received; 'we are especially flattered by the honor you
confer on us. We know how careful you are in the bestowal of
such favors. It is a favor, as pleasant as it is honorable.'
"'I have been suffering, Prince,' replied the Duchess, 'with
deep distress, and I will not reflect on any one the burden
of my sorrows.'
"'You are,' said the Prince, 'like those beautiful tropical
flowers, the source of the life of which is the sun, and
which grow pale on their stems in our land. Neapolitans need
Naples, the pure sky, the balmy air, the perfume of orange
groves, and the reflection of the azure gulf. I am
distressed, Duchess, at what you say, and hope you will
content yourself with our country. We will not permit you to
leave it.'
"'But I am dying,' said the Duchess, in a strange tone.
"'You are now alive, though,' said the Prince.
"The uneasy eyes of the Duchess passed around the room, and
when she saw the Count, became strangely animated. 'Ah!' she
remarked, 'here is Count Monte-Leone.' The Count advanced.
"'The Count,' said the Prince, 'is your compatriot, and one
of your most fervent admirers.'
"'Do you think so?' said the Duchess, almost ironically.
"'One,' said the Prince, 'to be any thing else, must neither
have seen nor heard your grace.'
"'Once, perhaps,' said she, 'I had some means of attraction,
but now all is forgotten; for I am a Duchess like all
others--less even, because I am indebted to chance for my
rank and title.'
"'You owe thanks to yourself alone,' said the Prince, 'and
the Duke was a lucky man to have it in his power to lay them
at your feet.'
"'Madame,' said I to the Duchess, 'since you deign to remind
us of your deathless talent, may I venture to ask you to
sing once more?'
"'Never!' said the Duchess, 'I left my voice on the banks of
the _Lago di Como_, and have not forgotten my last song.'
"''Twas indeed a sad epoch,' said the Prince, 'If it was the
funeral of your talent.'
"'I will never sing again!' said the Duchess, 'I remember
that day as I do all the unhappy ones of my life. Ah! they
are far more numerous than our happy days. It was evening,
and in a gay room of my villa, whither I had come still
trembling at having seen a traveller nearly drowned in the
lake. I know not what sad yet pleasant memory was nursed in
my heart, but I went to my piano and sung an air I had sung
for the last time at San Carlo. Tell me, Count
Monte-Leone--you were there--what was it?'
"'_La Griselda._'
"'It was. On that evening all my enthusiasm returned to me.
While singing, however, a strange fancy took possession of
me. I thought I saw in the mirror in front of me, the
features of one who had long been dead--dead at least to me.
My emotion was so instinct with terror and happiness, that
since then I have not sung.'
"'That is a perfect romance,' said the Prince, 'like those
of the dreamy Hoffman I met at Vienna.'
"'No, sir, it is a fact, or rather the commencement of a
series of facts, which, however, will interest no one here.
For that reason I do not tell it.'
"The Duchess of Palma rose to leave. The Prince offered her
his hand.
"'No, Prince,' said she, 'I will not trouble you, for I am
about to ask the Count to accompany me. Excuse me,' said
she, 'excuse me for taking him away, but I need not use
ceremony with a countryman.'
"Without giving him time to reply, she passed her arm
through his, went out, or rather dragged him out with her.
"I do not know why, dear mother, I have told you all this
long story, which has led me to write far differently from
what I had intended. I like, though, to talk so much with
you; and then the visit of the Count and that Duchess
agitated me, I know not why. Some instinct tells me those
mysterious beings exert an influence over my life. You think
me foolish and strange--but what can I do? I am now so sad
that I seem to look at life through a dark veil. I am wrong,
am I not? Reassure yourself and tell me what you think of my
husband's conduct. That, most of all, interests
"Your own AMINTA.
"P.S.--The Prince, the Countess and myself in vain waited
all day for the Marquis. It is now midnight and he has not
yet come."
X.--JEALOUSY.
A month had passed since the Marquise had written to her mother,
during which time the Marquis, more sedulous in his attentions to
Aminta, had begun to make her forget her fears and suspicions. A new
event, though, aroused them again.
A magnificent ball had been given by Madame de L----, in her splendid
hotel in the _rue_ d'Antin. M. de L---- aspired to the ministry; and
the fact of his having received the Duke de Bevry at his magnificent
entertainments, the favor he enjoyed at the _chateau_, and his
frequent entertainments to the _corps diplomatique_, seemed to make
his final success certain. M. de L---- aspired to popularity by
attracting around him all who seemed likely to advance his views. He
delighted to receive and mingle together in his drawing-room all the
political enemies of the tribune and the press, who, meeting as on a
central ground, thought themselves obliged to boast of the wit of
their Amphitryron, beneath whose roof they exchanged all the phrases
of diplomatic politeness to the accompaniment of Collinet's flageolet,
sat together at the card-tables, and courteously bowed at the door of
every room. On this account they did not cease to detest each other,
though their apparent reconciliation being believed at court,
contributed in no little degree to the advancement of M. L----'s
views.
The Marquis and Aminta were at the ball--and Henri left his wife for
several hours in charge of his father, who was proud of her, and
exhibited her with pride in all the rooms. The Prince heaped attention
on her, as all well-bred persons love to on those who are dear to
them. He carefully waited on her during every waltz and contra-dance;
and with paternal care replaced the spotless ermine on her whiter
shoulders. Then resuming his task of cicerone, he explained to her the
peculiarities of French society, which seemed so brilliant and
singular to a young Italian. The Marquis rejoined his wife about one
o'clock. He was very gay, and Aminta had not for a long time seen him
so amiable and lively. The Prince expressed a desire to return home,
and the young people gladly consented. As they were about to leave the
last room, an Englishman of distinguished air, but pale and agitated,
passed close to the Marquis, and as he did so, said in his native
tongue, "all is agreed." The Marquis replied in the same words, and
the Englishman left. Aminta asked what the stranger had said, "Nothing
of importance," said Henri, "a mere commonplace."
A quarter of an hour after, the carriage of the young people entered
_rue_ Saint Dominique. The Prince embraced the Marquise and retired to
his room, which was in the left wing of the hotel, and exactly
opposite the apartments of the young couple. About two all the hotel
was quiet. Aminta, though, from some peculiar presentiment, could not
sleep, yet, with her eyes half closed, she fell into that dreamy
torpor in which every passion is exaggerated. In this half-real,
half-fantastic state, Aminta saw pass before her all the important
events of her life, the horrible episode of the _casa di Tasso_, the
coming of Maulear, and the heroic devotion of _Scorpione_. Another
shadow, that of Monte-Leone, glided before her. The looks of this man
were fixed on hers, as if to read the depths of her soul. There came
also a thousand chimeras and countless mad and terrible fictions. La
Felina, pale and white as a spectre, sang, or sought to sing, for
though her lips moved no sound was heard. With her hand raised towards
Aminta, the ducal singer seemed to heap reproaches on her. Alarmed at
these sombre visions, the young woman sought to return to real life,
and arose from her bed; just then she thought she heard a door open.
Terrified, she reached toward a bell near her, but paused. The door
which was opened could be no other than that of the Marquis, for their
apartments, though separate, were side by side. She thought, too, that
the _valet de chambre_ had been detained later than usual with the
Marquis, and unwilling to make an alarm, she repressed her agitation.
No noise disturbed the profound silence. The clock above struck the
several hours with that slow and monotonous regularity, which is so
painful to those who cannot sleep; she did not, however, win the rest
she was so anxious for. All the fancies which had occupied her just
before had disappeared, but were replaced by a newer fancy, occasioned
by the remark of the Englishman, which she had not understood. The
features of the stranger, so deathly pale, constantly returned to her.
She fancied some danger menaced the man to whom she had devoted her
life; that a strange danger menaced him, and, yielding to a feverish
agitation, which she could not repress, wrapping herself in a shawl,
and afraid almost to breathe, she went to the Marquis's room, when at
the door she paused and thought.
"What would Henri say, and how could she excuse this strange visit?"
She hesitated and was about to return, when she saw that the door was
not closed, and that she could thus enter his room and satisfy herself
without disturbing him. She decided--the door turned on its hinges,
and Aminta entered. Crossing the antechamber, she had reached the
bedroom, which was separated from it by a curtained door. She advanced
to the bed, which she found had not been slept in. With a faint cry of
terror she sank on an arm-chair. The clock struck four, and when she
had heard the noises which had disturbed her it was nearly two; since
then, therefore, the Marquis had been away. Yet this had occurred when
he was within a few feet of her, and the care and secrecy with which
it was accomplished showed that it had been premeditated. Not a sound
except the opening of the door had reached Aminta's ears. The Marquise
felt the most agonizing distress--no thought of perfidy, however,
annoyed her; the idea of danger only occupying her mind. Just then her
eyes fell on an open note which had doubtless been dropped by Maulear
amid his hurry and trouble. She took it up, saying to herself, this
note doubtless contains a challenge--a rendezvous--she approached the
night lamp, and with difficulty suppressing her agitation, read as
follows--"Dear Marquis, do not fail to come to-night. You know how
anxiously you are expected,
"FANNY DE BRUNEVAL."
The letter was indeed a rendezvous, but not of the kind she had
expected. The terms of the note were clear and precise; and the
woman's name dissipated the mist from before her eyes, Maulear had
deserted her and his home in the silence of night for such a person.
She it was whom he deceived--she who had been so loyal and true, she
who sought, even when Maulear asked her hand, to protect him--who
begged him to distrust his impressions and not to act in haste. "I was
right," said she, "to fear the bonds he wished to impose on me--I was
right to object to a marriage which could not make him happy--only two
years," said she, with a voice of half stifled emotion, "and he is
already cold and indifferent to me. He has already abandoned me--and
worse still, he has done so with treachery. Mother! mother! why did
you not keep me with you? This then, is the reward of my generous
devotion. Alas! when I accepted him--when I wrested him from the death
which menaced him--when I gave myself to him, I did not love him, I
did not hesitate when perhaps----" Aminta blushed amid her tears.
"Above all," said she, "I do not wish him to find me here--I do not
wish him to reproach me as he has done with seeking to penetrate his
secrets." She returned to her room, and from exhaustion and tears sank
on her bed.
Day came at last, and Aminta dressed herself. She wished to conceal
from her servants all that she suffered. Above all, she did not wish
the conduct and disorder of the Marquis to be made a subject of
discussion. When her _femme de chambre_ entered her room, she found
her mistress on her knees at her morning devotions before a crucifix.
Had any persons, however, approached the Marquise, they must have seen
the tears falling on the delicate fingers which covered her face, and
heard her sobs. The bell rang for breakfast. Aminta started as if from
a dream; being thus recalled to real life, she saw that while the
evening before she had been happy and gay, one night had converted all
to sorrow and suffering. Aminta, though ordinarily of strong nerve,
sank beneath the blow. She felt herself wounded in her heart, her
dignity, and in her confidence, by one for whom alone she had lived.
Henceforth her life would be uncertain, and circumstances might lead
her she knew not whither.
When the Marquise entered, the Prince and Countess were about to go to
the table. The former said, "It is evident, my child, from your face,
that you are fatigued; and that balls are to you what the sun is to
roses. It does not detract from their beauty, but it makes them pale."
And finally, the Countess added, "it withers them completely. That is
the fate of all young women who turn night into day, and who, like my
beautiful niece, only really live between evening and morning."
"Come," said the Prince, "that will not do. My sister is like the fox
in the fable, she finds the ball too gay to suit herself, or rather
herself too sombre for the ball."
"A witticism," said the Countess, "is not a reason, but often exactly
the reverse. The one, my brother is familiar with; to the other, I am
sorry to say, he is more a stranger."
"You see, my child," said the Prince, with an air of submission and
resignation, "it is not well to have any trouble with the Countess,
for she returns shot for shot; though she fires a pistol in reply to a
cannon. Luckily for us, she is not a good shot. But my son does not
come down. Can it be that, though he did not dance, he is more
fatigued than his wife?"
"A letter for Madame la Marquise, from the Marquis," said a servant.
Aminta took the letter from the plateau, and looked at the Prince, as
if to ask whether she should read it.
"Read, my child, read," said her father-in-law, affectionately. "The
letter of a husband loved and loving, for thank God both are true,
should be read without any delay."
Aminta unsealed the letter, and glanced rapidly over it. Then
succumbing to emotion, deprived of strength and courage, and
especially revolting at what she had read, felt her sight grow dim,
and finally fainted. The Countess, whose mind alone was embittered for
the reasons Aminta had explained to her mother, but whose soul and
heart were generous as possible, ran to the Marquise, took her in her
arms, and was as kind as possible. The Prince, paler than Aminta,
rushed towards the window, which he threw open, and pulled away at the
bell-ropes to call the servants, and send them for the physicians.
The old nobleman exhibited the greatest alarm. The young Marquise was
taken to the drawing-room, and a few moments after she opened her
eyes. Her heart, however, was crushed; and she wept bitter tears. The
Prince was struck with terror and distress. He was alarmed for his
son's sake, and a father's anxiety was apparent.
"What has happened to my son?" said he, rushing to find the letter,
which Aminta had let fall. He read it anxiously, and when he had
concluded, laughed loud and long. "Indeed," said he, "we have come
back to the days of the Astraea. All reminds us of the _Calprenede_, of
_Urfe_, or _Scuderi_ herself. We are on the _Tendros_. This kind of
love would make that of Cyrus and Mandane trifling. Cyrus writes to
Mandane, that he went out to ride in the Bois de Cologne, and
therefore has to deprive himself of the pleasure of breakfasting with
her. Mandane therefore is suddenly taken ill. This is magnificent and
touching; but my precious child, it is a little exaggerated."
"What, then, is the matter?" said the Countess, as she handed her
niece the salts. "What a singular man you are! One never knows what
the facts of any thing are from you. You are either in the seventh
heaven or in despair. Your very gayety is enough to destroy our
niece's nerves."
"Ah!" said the Prince, "how sorry I am for the nerves. Read, however,
the letter yourself, Countess," and he gave it to Mademoiselle
Grandmesuil. "You will see the Marquise is too fond of her husband.
Her love has really become a dangerous passion. She is really
_love-mad_, and if it continues, we shall have a rehearsal of Milon's
ballet, with the exception of _Bigotini_."
The Countess read as follows:
"MY DEAR WIFE: I am unwilling to disturb your slumbers, and
have therefore left for the wood at five o'clock, having a
rendezvous with some sportsmen. We will probably breakfast
together, and I will not return until dinner-time. Remember
me affectionately.
"HENRI."
The habitual coldness of the Countess returned while she read the
letter. "I will say that I think my nephew very likely to inspire deep
love. I cannot however conceive how there can be cause for such
despair. We Frenchwomen have not such an exaggerated devotion as our
niece has. I beg her not to use it up now, for in the career of life
she will find it difficult to do without it." As if regretting that
she had soothed sorrows in which she had no sympathy, the Countess
sent for her prayer-book, and went to mass. As soon as the young
Marquise was alone with the Prince, she arose, threw herself in the
old man's arms, and said: "My father, I am very unhappy." The face of
the Prince at once became serious, and taking Aminta to a sofa, bade
her sit down, and said, kindly as possible, "Excuse my gayety and
irony, my child. _Non est hic locus_, as the sublime Horace, the
favorite of our good king Louis XVIII., once wrote. I repent of my
volatility and trifling, for I should have remembered, when I think of
the elevation of your mind, that something more important than the
absence of your husband for a few hours annoyed you. Speak to me--open
your heart to me--for I love you too well not to have a right to your
confidence and your secrets."
"He does not love me," said Aminta, leaning her head on the Prince's
shoulder.
"Alas! my daughter," said M. de Maulear, "I am about to make a strange
confession to you. I am not acquainted with my son. His soul,
sentiments, inclination, and moral nature, are unknown to me. When,
four years ago, I saw the child now twenty-six, whom I had left an
infant, and found his air, manners, and appearance distingue as
possible, and was pleased with him, I was assured that his soul was
exalted, his character true, and his sentiments honorable. I was
therefore satisfied. Two years after, he went to Naples, where I
procured a diplomatic post for him; and consequently I have neither
studied nor fathomed his instincts and habits. What I apprehend in
relation to you, my child, is a capital fault. I have discovered in my
son an extreme weakness of character, which may lead him into error.
For that reason, I wrote to him, that I would have preferred that he
had tasted of the pleasures of life before marriage. I would thus have
had an assurance of his subsequent prudence. Believe me, though, my
child, I will watch over him and you, and if I was able to forgive his
marrying without my consent, when I knew whom he married, I never will
pardon him if he make her unhappy. The deuce! we did not bring you
hither from Italy to break your heart."
Fearful lest his father should become angry with Maulear, Aminta
restrained the secret which seemed ready to burst from her lips. She
spoke of vague suspicions and anxiety at the Marquis's uneasiness, but
said nothing particular. The Prince, who never in his life had known
what jealousy was, had some difficulty in understanding how it could
create such despair. His attention, however, was not the less vigilant
in relation to the affairs of the young couple. A circumstance which
occurred soon after enabled him to ascertain much. A number of persons
assembled one night at the rooms of the Marquise de Maulear. Count
Monte-Leone had become one of Aminta's most assiduous visitors. The
tacit permission he had received from Aminta, the formal authority of
the Marquis, the sympathy of the old Prince, to whom the pleasant,
energetic character of the Count, and his noble bearing, made him
every day more attractive--all taken in connection with the intimacy
of Taddeo and Monte-Leone, authorized him to visit the Marquise
freely. The devotion of Monte-Leone to Aminta had never been
diminished. He had felt only an inclination towards La Felina, an
error of the senses and imagination, excited by mortified love, and
favored by the isolation of the Lago di Como. His heart had little
share in it. When, therefore, he saw the Marquise de Maulear more
attractive than ever, he discovered that in his whole life he had
loved her alone. The Marquis de Maulear appeared but rarely at the
hotel, coming home at a late hour and going out early.
Monte-Leone and Taddeo were talking together, and this fragment of
their conversation struck the ear of the old Prince, who seemed
entirely absorbed by a game of whist.
"Will not the Marquis be here to-night?" said the Count to Taddeo.
"I doubt it: sometimes the master of the hotel is here less frequently
than any one else."
"Perhaps he is now," said the Count, "where he goes almost every
night, they say."
"You jest," said Taddeo; "I think he is here every night."
"He should, but he is not. All I can say is, that on the night of
M.L.'s ball, he was ... where I saw him."
"Where was he?" asked Taddeo, impatiently.
"I will tell you--but come away from the whist-table."
* * * * *
"But you do not return my lead," said the Prince's partner, "you
should play hearts."
"True," said the Prince, musing; and he led hearts. His eyes, though,
followed Taddeo and Monte-Leone.
The Prince lost five points, much to his partner's discontent. He
played very badly that night, breaking up his suits, mistaking the
cards, and violating every rule, much to the surprise of the
lookers-on, who knew how well he played the game, which the emigres
had imported from England. At last they stopped, and the Prince sought
for Monte-Leone through all the rooms. The Count and Taddeo, however,
had both left. The Marquis, though, had returned, and the company soon
dispersed. The Prince went to his room, but soon left, well wrapped
up, and with his hat over his face. "Pardieu!" said he, "I will settle
things, and find out where my son passes the nights. Can any place be
more pleasant than the bedchamber of a pretty woman?" Standing at a
little distance from door, he waited about half an hour. His patience
was nearly exhausted, when the Marquis came out. Henri went to the Rue
de Bac, took the quai, crossed the pont Royale, the Carousel, and
entered la Rue de Richelieu. The poor Prince panted after him, and
kept him in sight all the time, cursing his curiosity. Sustained by a
deep interest for his daughter's happiness, he kept on.
When the Marquis came to the Rue de Menors, he paused, and turned to
see that no one followed him. The Prince had barely time to get behind
a coach which stood at the corner. The Marquis went some distance down
the Rue de Menors, and stopped at No. 7. The door was opened, and
Henri entered. "On my honor," said the Prince, "I would not have come
so far before bed, unless I could also have found out _why_ the
Marquis visits No. 7." The Prince then stopped at the door, and
knocked. The door was opened.
"What do you want?" said the porter, rather surlily.
"I wish," said the Prince, and he put a louis d'or in the porter's
hand, "to know why that man has come hither."
"Indeed," said he, pocketing the louis, "it is a great deal to pay for
so little. The gentleman has gone, as many others go, to see Mlle.
Fanny de Bruneval."
FOOTNOTES:
[4] Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by
Stringer & Townsend, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of
the United States for the Southern District of New-York.
A FESTIVAL UPON THE NEVA.
TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF
KAUFMANN.
On the banks of a majestic river, where, in later times, has arisen a
city of eight thousand houses, of granite causeways, monuments,
obelisks, and palaces, nothing was to be seen at the commencement of
the eighteenth century but a few huts scattered over a marshy waste.
On one of those days, when the intense cold had transformed the river
into a plain of ice, a numerous crowd were hastening through the
streets of the young St. Petersburg. Some directed their steps towards
a little cottage; and others, over the frozen waters, towards a
fortified island. Every one looked with a curious eye at the cottage,
and the numerous sledges that were gathering for the escort at hand.
Presently, a sledge drawn by three horses covered with bear-skins,
dashed up to the cottage-gate. It was quickly opened, and an old man
of a high stature and proud bearing came forth, wearing a blue sable.
He slowly advanced and took his place.
"Pardon me, sir," said one of middle age, who hastened to take a seat
by the side of the former, "the gracious Czar had--"
"It is sufficient," prince Menzikoff, interrupted the first, in a
quick and stern tone; "I am not much accustomed to wait, but I know,
however, that it is the Czar only who can be the cause of this delay."
"You see the boyard, Alexis Nicolajewitz Tscherkaski," said one of
those present, in a whisper to his companion.
"You are not the first to tell me that," replied Nikita. "It is not
sixty years since his grandfather traversed the Caucasus with his
savage Tschetschences. He would be a little surprised if he saw his
son to-day decorated with the golden key of chamberlain, and enjoying
himself at festivals in sacred Russia. But they give the signal of
departure, for they are tying a tame bear to the sledge. Indeed, it is
a strange animal!"
"I must see him nearer," said the first. "Come, Andyuschka, let us
survey the whole train."
* * * * *
They came at last to an edifice such as was never seen before or
since. It was built upon the Neva--but not of stones. The walls, roof,
and partitions, were of solid ice; and the steps leading to the
entrance cut out of one enormous block. Two large cannons made of ice,
pierced with the greatest care, and which they were foolish enough to
charge with powder, were placed in front of this singular palace. The
interior presented an appearance not less novel. A long table, formed
of a single piece of ice, and covered with a hundred exquisite dishes,
was the principal object--oysters, in silver plates, excited the
appetite--sea-fish, of every species, from the gulf of Finland and
Pont-Euxin to the Caspian and frozen seas, disputed the supremacy with
shell-fish from the Istar and Volga. By the side of the hams of
Bayonne were roasts of bear surrounded with citron; and the sturgeon
was placed in the middle of delicious preserves. Many sledges were
filled with bottles.
But all these cold dishes composed but half the feast. Four kitchens,
built of wood, at some distance from the palace, threw up constantly
clouds of smoke. There boiled stags and elks, pullets of Archangel,
and boars of Podolie. But that which particularly attracted the
attention of the spectators were the large fires where whole oxen
turned round upon spits, for the benefit of the people, to whom were
to be also given tuns of brandy.
The sun shone yet above the horizon when the great hall of the palace
of crystal was lighted with wax candles in chandeliers of sparkling
ice. A thousand lights were thus reflected and broken upon the
transparent walls and windows. It seemed a fairy scene in the
approaching night.
While a legion of cooks, with their assistants, worked without
cessation, the two personages, the boyard Tscherkaski and the prince
Menzikoff, were not less busy in the interior of the palace. It was
readily seen that they had the charge of directing the festival about
to commence. The last-mentioned, spreading a bear-skin upon each of
the seats of ice, was addressed by his companion.
"Truly, Alexandre Michailowitz, the Czar could not have selected a
better manager of the feast than yourself. If I had any thing to do
but to take exclusive charge of the bottles, I am afraid I should
oblige every one to sit upon the naked blocks. What grimaces those
hungry foreign guests would make, such as the Frenchman Lefort, and
those like him, whom the west is ever sending to fatten upon the blood
of Russia. I should like to see them shivering to death, and at the
same time politely struggling to appear pleased in the presence of the
Czar."
"But do you know how the Czar would regard such pleasantry? You
remember Dimitri Arsenieff?"
"Arsenieff! I hope you do not compound me with that herd whom a single
glance of the Czar made tremble in their shoes. There was a time, it
is true, but all is changed now--there was a time when those
submissive slaves who filled the courts of the Kremlin, disappeared
when they heard the steps of the old Alexis Nicolajewitz. His services
were once required. He was not idle during the massacre of the
Strelitz; they had need of Tscherkaski then. But all this has passed
away. I have but one wish; it is, that in the hour of trial the swords
of those Frenchmen, or of other foreigners, may leap as slowly from
the scabbard as mine on that day when men of a nobler spirit were
assassinated."
"The Czar has not forgotten that you have--"
"O, truly," replied the boyard, with a bitter smile, "the gracious
Czar has made me the first chamberlain. He must have been in a good
humor at that time; for Poliwoi--you know him--he is skilful in
sealing bottles--he was a _valet de chambre_ in his youth--and that
English Melton or Milton, who has imported some good dogs--both of
them, at the same time with myself, received the key of the
chamberlaincy."
"But you cannot deny, Alexis, that in general the choice of our
sovereign--"
"Is the best. But what is strange about it is, that he finds so many
excellent men, and that he selects from so large a circle, when others
who, in times of calamity, are no longer considered unworthy, never
obtain their turn for preferment."
"You appear to be not in a very good humor, to-day, boyard.... Would
you fall into disfavor with the Czar?"
"Why," exclaimed the boyard, "should I not tell a friend what probably
he will learn to-day, if indeed he is ignorant of it now? You know,"
he continued with an affected calmness, "the domain of the crown
adjacent to my lands in Tula?"
"I do not," said the embarrassed Prince.
"Indeed you do, Alexandre Michailowitz; or at least you ought to. It
separates my property from yours."
"Ah! the manor."
"The same. It is not very extensive, containing only three villages
and a thousand serfs. But its situation suits me and I desire its
possession."
"Well, you ought to propose to the Czar to sell it. He will not refuse
you."
"He has already refused. 'I am sorry,' he coldly said, 'that I cannot
grant you the lands you ask; I have disposed of them to another.' I
was about to reply, but turning to speak to some one, he closed our
conversation."
"And do you know to whom he granted the domain?"
"Who? Perhaps a vicious flatterer--an intrusive coward--some fellow
from abroad who comes among us to appease his hunger; or, what is
worse, an upstart, whose only pleasure is to overturn my dearest hopes
to fulfil his own. Who is he? One of those who daily make fortunes by
hundreds in our Russia, in place of meeting with the rope which they
merit--one of those who drive out honest men to occupy their places--a
rustic bore, a cobbler, a pastry-cook!"
The features of the boyard took an expression of the most violent
anger; the muscles of his mouth contracted by a convulsive movement,
and his fiery eye gave sign that he was remembering the sanguinary
vengeance of his brethren, the sons of the Caucasus.
The countenance of Menzikoff grew dark. The word "pastry-cook," in
bringing to his recollection his former condition, awoke sentiments
whose expression it was difficult for him to restrain. "I had
intended," he said, "to ask the Czar to give me those very lands; but
I am glad that I have not done so. I would have been unhappy in
interfering with your projects, if it were even for the sake of your
amiable daughter, who, in your old days, will reward you largely for
all the grievances you experience at the Court."
"You think so, eh, Michailowitz? But you are a Russian. You belong not
to those foreign plebeians. Alexis Tscherkaski is a man who never
hides what he thinks, and I confess frankly that I do not love you; I
have never loved you. Yet I do not confound you with those vile
favorites of whom I have spoken. You are the first who has ever said
to my face that I was not born to walk in the slippery paths of a
court. You will have the honor also of offering the first counsel that
I have ever followed. Yes, Prince Menzikoff, I am firmly resolved to
leave the capital in a few days. In my solitude, accompanied only by
my Mary, I hope to forget the Czars, their favors, and all that I have
done to obtain them. Since the death of my Fedor--but let us stop
here--with him all my hopes are buried. My daughter only remains--"
"Who will be a glory to you in the evening of your life. She will
bloom as the rose, she will be a mother of sons who--"
"Yes, I desire to see her happy. She will freely choose her husband;
and if she wishes to unite her destiny with none, she shall live with
me, and one day close my eyes in death. It is among the descendants of
the boyards that she will find her beloved. He shall be a noble son of
old and sacred Russia. And I swear by all the saints interred in the
convent of Kiew, that no will, not even that of the Czar, but her own,
shall influence the choice of my daughter."
The Prince was about to reply, when loud voices were heard in front of
the house. "They come! they come!"
A long train of sledges took the direction of the Isle of the Neva,
and presented as strange a spectacle as one could well imagine.
Instead of couriers who, according to the usages of the time, took the
lead in this description of festivals, there was a sledge drawn by
four horses of different colors. In it were four men dressed in white
with a red girdle, having in their hands a staff ornamented with
ribbons, and upon their heads a bonnet decorated with plumes. The
oddest thing in this group was, that the youngest was not less than
seventy; two of them wanted a leg; the third was without an arm; and
the fourth, blind.
Then came two sledges filled with musicians who joyously sounded their
instruments. They were divided into two sections; the first would have
pleased the ear by their performances, if it were not for the second
section, every one of whom was deaf. They could not follow the
movements of the director, and he himself, also deaf, was constantly
behind the time, so that the two companies, although playing the same
air, produced one which we might imagine proceeded from mischievous
demons in a concert prepared in Pandemonium for the benefit of
condemned musicians.
In a third sledge came a patriarch of eighty years. His long white
beard and hair carefully dressed, the precious ornaments with which he
was covered, and the priests seated at his side, all announced that
the old man was going to celebrate some solemn ceremony. As he was an
intolerable stammerer, who had been released from the public services
of the church during the greater part of his life, he was fitly chosen
to deliver a discourse upon the present occasion.
The sledge following that of the patriarch's, gave to the cortege the
unmistakeable character of a nuptial festivity; for, of the four
individuals who occupied it, two wore crowns, such as those prescribed
by the Greek church to the newly married. The couple who sat in the
place of honor, and for whom this fete had been prepared were indeed
very curious looking persons. The bridegroom was an old and wrinkled
dwarf, hardly four feet high. His enormous head seemed to weigh down
his slender body, and to bend his legs into the form of sabres. His
toilette was according to the French mode of that period. A frock coat
of silver cloth, a sky blue vest and crimson velvet pantaloons, and
immense ruffles covered his long, sepulchral hands. A perruque with a
long tail, the nuptial crown, and a silver sword, which completed his
dress, confirmed the remark of one of our friends, who compared the
unfortunate bridegroom to a monkey on the rack.
The dwarf and his affianced resembled each other as two drops of
water. Upon the head of the hump-backed bride also shone the marriage
crown. Her dress was of gold cloth of the most recent Parisian mode.
Their exterior, however, presented a single contrast which rendered
them still more ridiculous; for upon the wide face of the future wife
was a presumptuous smile, while the husband, suffering under some
recent sorrow, made the most frightful grimaces.
In order better to distinguish the ugliness of this deformed couple,
there were placed upon the second seat of the sledge two children of
angelic beauty--one a girl of five years; the other, a boy of six to
eight. They both wore the ancient Russian costume, which in its
simplicity so well became the celestial sweetness of the countenance
of the rosy-cheeked girl, and the spiritual gayety which beamed from
the large black eyes of the boy. These children appeared destined to
serve as bridesboy and bridesmaid; and certainly Hymen could not have
made a better choice.
"It is the daughter of the boyard Tscherkaski! It is the little Fedor
Menzikoff!" cried the crowd.
A large number of sledges passed on. All those who occupied them were
disguised in the strangest manner. By the side of a coarse Kirghese
was a fashionable Parisien. Behind them a Chinese mandarin waited upon
a maiden Tyrolese. In the cortege could be seen not only the costumes
of all the tribes under the sceptre of Peter the Great, but of almost
every nation of Europe and Asia. The masquerade extended even to the
trappings of the horses and sledges. Some of the horses' heads wore
gilded horns of the stag and the elk, and others great wings, which
made them resemble the poet's idea of Pegasus. The last sledge in the
train worthily closed this fantastic procession. It was drawn by three
horses, and contained a single personage. Two horsemen, habited as
Turks, galloped by his side, and announced his high rank. His
thick-set figure was of the ordinary height, his face was full of a
spirit of gayety and frolic, and in the smile with which he responded
to the acclamations of the people could be perceived his satisfaction
in the preparations for the fete of the day. His dress was that of a
northern countryman, and he who had ever seen one would be at a loss
to say whether Peter the Great was an original or a copy.
The countryman held in his hand a large gold-headed cane, and
tormented a tame bear, which, standing erect upon its hind feet, and
fulfilling the functions of lackey, was from time to time punished for
his unskilfulness, to the amusement of the people.
The train arrived at the crystal palace; and although all had
descended from the sledges, none had crossed the threshold. Every one
appeared desirous to yield the first entrance to the bridegroom and
his partner, or to him who gave the feast. Prince Menzikoff and the
boyard at last advanced, bare-headed, into the presence of the Czar,
who was still occupied in teasing his bear to divert the multitude.
"What are you waiting for?" he said, at the same time taking the cap
of the Prince, and replacing it upon his head. "Why these marks of
respect? Have you quite forgotten all the duties of gallantry in thus
permitting the happy couple to wait at the door of the marriage-house?
But I see--and if I did not see, the odors of the dishes and of the
brandy would be evidence of it--that you have well performed your
duties. With this conviction, Alexandre, that you have done well for
the palates of the guests by delicious dishes, and that my old
Tscherkaski does not permit me to have a doubt as to his performances
concerning the cellar--it is, I say, from these considerations that I
pardon you both for forgetting that I am and wish to be nothing more
to-day than Peter, the countryman, who has come to celebrate with his
friends the nuptials of a couple who love each other tenderly. Come,
let us hasten, lest the temperature of the marriage-palace cool our
dinner."
"As your Majesty wishes," responded the Prince, respectfully.
"Not Majesty," replied the Emperor, and in the same moment he ran to
excuse himself to the affianced for unintentionally causing them to
wait so long.
They entered, and very soon the sound of music announced that they
were being seated at table. The Prince, at a sign from the Czar,
conducted the bride and bridegroom to the place of honor, and beside
them the two children. The rest took their places without distinction
of rank. The Holland ambassador sat next the Emperor, and in front of
him the boyard Tscherkaski, and Menzikoff sat next to Tscherkaski.
II.
The conversation, at first grave and little animated, gradually became
more lively. The Czar was in a good humor, a thing which often
occurred at the dinner-table, if nowhere else. Peter the Countryman
was not slow to assail the embarrassed couple with pleasantries, some
more or less good, and others rather equivocal. He at last requested
the old patriarch, who was perspiring with fear at the anticipation of
the request, to repeat the discourse which he had pronounced to the
great pleasure of his Majesty. A noisy gayety filled the hall, and
outside it was at its height. At the moment in which the Emperor
offered a toast to the married couple, the cannon of ice was
discharged. It flew in pieces in every direction, and instead of
producing any serious sensation lest some accident might have
occurred, it only increased the tumultuous hilarity. The wines of
Champagne and Bourgogne ran in streams. The servants were hardly
sufficient to supply the thirst of the guests. The Czar ordered to
their assistance soldiers, who, taking half a dozen bottles under each
arm, rolled them as nine-pins upon the table--a circumstance which the
ambassador of the powerful states thought so remarkable that he
mentioned it in his report a la Haye.
This intemperate drinking soon showed its effects upon the greater
part of the guests. Peter gave himself up completely to the
infatuation of the vine, and Menzikoff, who preserved his accustomed
sobriety, saw with inquietude the Czar swallow one after another
numerous glasses of Bourgogne. The face of the monarch became
foolish--the perspiration stood upon his forehead in large drops, and
in order to cool himself he took off his perruque, and placed it upon
the head of his neighbor the ambassador, who received the insult
respectfully, but without power to repress a deep sigh. However
pleasant all this might have been, Menzikoff took no part in the
enjoyments of the society, troubled as he was through fears founded
upon an intimate knowledge of the character of his master. Experience
had too often taught him how easily the Czar passed from humor and
hilarity to anger and violence. He knew that such changes took place
almost invariably after indulgences of the bottle, and that a single
word--a single gesture--threw him into a passion that made him
detestable, while by nature he was generous and noble. The event
proved how reasonable were the presentiments of Menzikoff.
The festival was coming to an end. The Czar arose and commanded
silence.
"Hitherto," he said, in smiling, "we have only drank to the health of
the happy pair. It is time to give them a substantial token of our
friendship. Since I am myself the originator of this joyful marriage,
I must give the first example--so take that, Alexandre; put in it what
I told you, and pass it round." At these words the Emperor pointed to
a little silver basket that lay on the table.
Menzikoff took the basket, and drawing from his bosom a draft for 8000
roubles, and emptying his own purse, passed the basket to his neighbor
the boyard. The latter seemed to reflect a moment, took from his
pocket a handful of gold and silver, and with an air of contempt, cast
an old rouble into the basket, and passed it from him.
This circumstance did not escape the notice of the Emperor. His brow
darkened, but soon his gayety returned, and he said, smiling, to
Menzikoff:
"You see, Alexandre, the prudence of our Prince de Tscherkaski. He
gives only a rouble. He means to say by this that he has no very
particular interest in the married parties. It is only a ruse on his
part in order to remove any jealousy that a greater gift might awaken.
I will wager you that to-morrow he will send a present to the young
woman more becoming her rank and position."
"Your Majesty would lose the wager," responded Tscherkaski, in a
haughty tone. "The farces of fools and jugglers have never amused me,
and I have always pitied those who know not better how to employ their
time than to lose it with such creatures. Thus my contribution is at
the same time conformed to the circumstances and to my rank, since I
do not appreciate beyond measure the office of chamberlain, with which
you have gratified me."
The Emperor at first smiled at these words, but his countenance became
more stern.
"Our chamberlain," said he, after a pause, "gets angry to get calm
again. He must be in a bad humor to-day. I hope he will change his
language by the time that another affair occurs, which will interest
him more nearly."
Tscherkaski did or wished not to understand the words of the Czar. His
wandering and disdainful eyes glanced at the basket offered to the
bride and bridegroom. It was filled with gold, rings, bracelets,
jewels, and other precious gifts. The universal happiness of the
evening had removed from the mind of the Czar the remembrance of the
murmurings of the boyard, and Menzikoff had hardly taken his place
when the Emperor whispered to him:
"The dispositions you have made to-day in regard to this festivity do
you honor. You have perfectly agreed with my own taste in such
matters. You have surpassed my expectations."
"It is not I alone," humbly replied the Prince. "The boyard as well as
myself----"
"Without doubt, you and he have perfectly fulfilled my intentions. I
take not into the account the silver rouble, however," added the Czar,
"let that be as it may, ten years hence this place shall be the scene
of a similar festivity; and to let you see how I can surpass you, I
will myself take charge of the preparations. You may smile, Alexandre,
but you will be forced to admit, that without your aid I can arrange a
nuptial feast. It is besides the less difficult, since the essentials
are already decided upon--the persons to be married."
These words were overheard by those present, and a profound silence
ensued.
"Would I be guilty of too much curiosity," said Menzikoff, "if...."
"Ah! you wish to know the young couple," exclaimed the Emperor. "I
ought, perhaps, to leave you in ten years' uncertainty; but thanks to
this brilliant society whom I invite from to-day, you will know now.
Alexis Nicolajewitz," continued he, in addressing the boyard, "you
asked me the other day for certain lands near Tula, situated between
the boundaries of your property and those of Prince Menzikoff."
"I did, and your Majesty has thought fit to refuse them."
"I refused them, because I had reserved them for another. I wish to
give them as a dowry to your daughter."
The astonishment of the boyard was great He attempted to speak.
"Silence! I have attached to the grant one condition," said the Czar.
"Your Majesty will order nothing contrary to my conscience and the
honor of my house. I humbly ask, then...."
"The condition is, that your daughter shall receive her husband at my
hands."
"I have sworn upon the tomb of my wife," responded the boyard, after a
pause, "that my daughter shall espouse him only whom she herself
freely chooses. But, she is still a child,... and in ten years...."
"Indeed," interrupted the Emperor, whose countenance was sorrowful,
"if your daughter should not accept him whom I would propose, the
lands will yet belong to her; are you content now?"
"And the rank, the condition of the parties?"
"They are to be the same."
"A single word from our gracious sovereign, is at any time sufficient
to destroy all inequalities of rank," said one of the guests.
"You are right, Kurakin," returned the boyard; "as to myself, I rely
upon the word of our monarch, who has just said that there is nothing
to equalize. Every one to his opinion upon that which concerns him."
"There is a tone of very high pride in your discourse, Alexis
Nicolajewitz," responded Peter, who repressed his anger with
difficulty. "I have a great mind not to name to you to-day the husband
which I, your sovereign, have chosen for the daughter of one of my
subjects. But let your insolent vanity subside. Your future son-in-law
is of birth equal with your's and your daughter's; he is the only son
of a man whom I dearly esteem and honor with distinguished favors. I
say it in his presence, and it is my desire he should be honored by
others. In a word, your future son-in-law is the companion of your
daughter at the feast to-day; he is the little Fedor Menzikoff."
This name came to the ears of the boyard as a thunder-clap, so great
was his astonishment. The assembly waited in vain his response, but he
was silent.
"Ah well, Alexis," continued the Czar, "if these two manors are hardly
worth thanks, why should I wait for you to consent to the proposed
union?"
All eyes were directed to the boyard. No one spoke, and the Czar's
impatience yielded to a furious anger.
"And what motive," he at last said, "induces you to reject this gift?"
"The very condition that you have yourself made, gracious sovereign."
"The condition?"
"Yes, that condition which requires my daughter to give her hand to
the son of Prince Menzikoff. It can never be fulfilled. It is
impossible to accept the gift of your Majesty."
"And why?" fiercely demanded Peter.
"The Czar orders--his servant must obey. Prince Menzikoff is the son
of a serf, but the daughter of Tscherkaski shall never marry a man of
so mean extraction," and the blood mounted to the brow of the boyard.
"Insolent dog!" exclaimed Peter, striking his hand upon the table. "Do
you not know that a single word from me can make ten serfs ten
Princes, and the least among them superior to you in rank and dignity.
Oh! by my patron, the prince of the Apostles, why should I patiently
listen to this haughty descendant of the brigands of the Caucasus. I
can do more than this, proud boyard; by a breath I can degrade thee
and all thy tribe."
Hitherto Tscherkaski held his eyes downward, but now he lifted them
and looked steadily at his monarch.
"Your look braves and menaces me," thundered the Czar, beside himself,
and shaking his fist towards the boyard. "Reply if you dare, and it is
not impossible that your rebellious head rolls from your body this
very night, this hour, this minute."
"Certainly, I do not doubt your power. How could I doubt the power of
one who, on the same day, without pity and without humanity, cut off
the heads of thousands. Surely, the man who tramples under his feet
those who were once the support of his crown and authority; who has
not only stained his own hands in their blood, but that of his own
son--surely he would not hesitate to destroy an old servant, the
necessary but guilty instrument of his past vengeance. Come! the arm
that was steeped in the massacre of the Kremlin, can hardly take a
redder hue from the blood of an unimportant slave."
Peter looked with burning eyes upon his adversary. He arose, as by an
impulse, and inclining his head forward, seemed to be engaged in
discovering the meaning of those vehement words. But he was
endeavoring to stay the tempest that was sweeping over his heart. Some
minutes elapsed before he recovered himself from those bitter
recollections; and looking with an affected air of calmness and
dignity upon the astonished assembly, he said--
"Faithful Russians! you have heard the serious accusation brought by a
subject against his monarch. Whatever may be the number of the
Strelitz fallen in an unhappy day, I am not at all concerned about it;
they died for the safety and well-being of sacred Russia. If innocent
blood flowed at the Kremlin--if, among so many guilty, the sword
severed the head of one innocent, I am ready to defend the act. It was
from me that the whole transaction originated; it is mine only, and I
take the responsibility of it. I had no other means of saving our
country from the barbarism that encumbered it, and impeded its
elevation to the rank which it should occupy among the nations of
Europe. As the bold boyard has truly said, it is I who have brandished
the sword, and I ask who is the Russian who dares cite me to his
tribunal?"
The anger of the Czar was rekindled, and he began anew.
"It is to the tutelary patron of the empire that I am indebted for the
power of having executed a resolution which I judged necessary. A
disease was undermining the constitution of the empire--the evil was
terrible and appeared incurable: like a skilful physician I at once
employed the medicine which could alone be successful in arresting the
progress of the disease. Could I, in the moment of execution, place
the instrument in the trembling hands of a charlatan? No; it was my
own hand that held the knife. I felt the wounds which I made; and I
say to-day, before God and man, it is I to whom the action belongs,
and for which I am ready to answer on earth and on high. Now, as to
you, Tscherkaski, you have audaciously rejected the favor I was
willing to grant. You have not even feared to accuse your sovereign in
the midst of his subjects. If my ancestors were alive your white head
would fall from the block, but far from me the thought of shedding the
blood of an old brother in arms. Retract, and you may pass your days
tranquilly on your own lands. If not," and the voice of the Czar grew
more stern, "I send you this night into eternal exile."
"Is it permitted me to take with me my daughter?" cooly asked the old
man.
"The child belongs to its parent," replied the Emperor, surprised and
hesitating.
"Then, Alexander Michailowitz," said the boyard to Menzikoff, "give me
two of those bear-skins you placed upon the ice-chairs; it is all that
is necessary."
"Take him away at once; we have had enough of his arrogance and
audacity!" exclaimed the furious Peter, and he repelled Menzikoff, who
was endeavoring to intercede for the boyard.
"And whither?" asked the prince with a trembling voice.
"To Bareson upon the Ob----No; to Woksarski upon the Frozen sea,"
added Peter, as he beheld the smiling and triumphing air of the
boyard.
A few moments after the old man and his daughter entered a sledge. A
party of horsemen accompanied them, and away they went with the
swiftness of an eagle towards the dreary regions of the north-west.
Ten years later, Prince Menzikoff, despoiled of his goods, his honors,
and his rank, came to share the exile of the boyard. Similar
misfortune reconciled two enemies, and the union of their children
accomplished the prediction of the Czar.
POLITENESS: IN PARIS AND LONDON.
BY SIR HENRY LYTTON BULWER.
"Je me recommande a vous," was said to me the other day by an old
gentleman dressed in very tattered garments, who was thus soliciting a
"sou." The old man was a picture: his long gray hairs fell gracefully
over his shoulders. Tall--he was so bent forward as to take with a
becoming air the position in which he had placed himself. One hand was
pressed to his heart, the other held his hat. His voice, soft and
plaintive, did not want a certain dignity. In that very attitude, and
in that very voice, a nobleman of the ancient "regime" might have
solicited a pension from the Duc de Choiseul in the time of Louis XV.
I confess that I was the more struck by the manner of the venerable
suppliant, from the strong contrast which it formed with the demeanor
of his countrymen in general: for it is rare, now-a-days, I
acknowledge, to meet a Frenchman with the air which Lawrence Sterne
was so enchanted with during the first month, and so wearied with at
the expiration of the first year, which he spent in France. That look
and gesture of the "petit marquis," that sort of studied elegance,
which, at first affected by the court, became at last natural to the
nation, exist no longer, except among two or three "grands seigneurs"
in the Faubourg St. Germain, and as many beggars usually to be found
on the Boulevards. To ask with grace, to beg with as little
self-humility as possible, here perchance is the fundamental idea
which led, in the two extremes of society, to the same results: but
things vicious in their origin are sometimes agreeable in their
practice.
"Hail, ye small sweet courtesies of life, far smoother do ye make the
road of it--like grace and beauty, which beget inclination at first
sight, 'tis ye who open the door and let the stranger in." I had the
Sentimental Journey in my hand--it was open just at this passage, when
I landed not very long ago on the quay of that town which Horace
Walpole tells us caused him more astonishment than any other he had
met with in his travels. I mean Calais. "Hail, ye small sweet
courtesies of life," was I still muttering to myself, as gently
pushing by a spruce little man, who had already scratched my nose and
nearly poked out my eyes with cards of "Hotel ...," I attempted to
pass on towards the inn of Mons. Dessin. "Nom de D...," said the
Commissionaire, as I touched his elbow, "Nom de D..., Monsieur, _Je
suis Francais_! il ne faut pas me pousser, moi ... _je suis
Francais_!"--and this he said, contracting his brow, and touching a
moustache that only wanted years and black wax to make it truly
formidable. I thought that he was going to offer me his own card
instead of Mr. Meurice's. This indeed would have been little more than
what happened to a friend of mine not long ago. He was going last year
from Dieppe to Paris. He slept at Rouen, and on quitting the house the
following morning found fault with some articles in the bill presented
to him. "Surely there is some mistake here," said he, pointing to the
account. "Mistake, sir," said the _aubergiste_, adjusting his
shoulders with the important air of a man who was going to burthen
them with a quarrel--"mistake, sir, what do you mean?--a mistake--do
you think I charge a sou more than is just? Do you mean to say that?
_Je suis officier, Monsieur, officier Francais, et j'insiste sur ce
que vous me rendiez raison!!_" Now, it is undoubtedly very pleasant to
an Englishman, who has the same idea of a duel that a certain French
marquise had of a lover, when, on her death-bed, she said to her
grand-daughter, "Je ne vous dis pas, ma chere, de ne point avoir
d'amans; je me rappelle ma jeunesse. Il faut seulement n'en prendre
jamais qui soient au-dessous de votre etat"--it is doubtless very
unpleasant to an Englishman, who cares much less about fighting than
about the person he fights with, to have his host present him a bill
in one hand and a pistol in the other. In one of the islands which we
ought to discover, whenever the king sneezes all his courtiers are
expected to sneeze also. The country of course imitates the court, and
the empire is at once affected with a general cold. Sneezing here
then becomes an art and an accomplishment. One person prizes himself
on sneezing more gracefully than another, and, by a matter of general
consent, all nations who have not an harmonious manner of vibrating
their nostrils are justly condemned as savages and barbarians. There
is no doubt that the people of this island are right; and there is no
doubt that we are right in considering every people with different
usages from ourselves of very uncivilized and uncomfortable behavior.
We then, decidedly, are the people who ought justly to be deemed the
most polite.
For instance--you arrive at Paris: how striking the difference between
the reception you receive at your hotel, and that you would find in
London! In London, arrive in your carriage! (_that_ I grant is
necessary)--the landlord meets you at the door, surrounded by his
anxious attendants; he bows profoundly when you alight--calls loudly
for every thing you want, and seems shocked at the idea of your
waiting an instant for the merest trifle you can possibly _imagine_
that you desire. Now try your Paris hotel--you enter the
courtyard--the proprietor, if he happen to be there, receives you with
careless indifference, and either accompanies you saunteringly
himself, or orders some one to accompany you to the apartments which,
on first seeing you, he determined you should have. It is useless to
expect another. If you find any fault with this apartment, if you
express any wish that it had this little thing, that it had not that,
do not for one moment imagine that your host is likely to say, with an
eager air, that he "will see what can be done"--that he "would do a
great deal to please so respectable a gentleman." In short, do not
suppose him for one moment likely to pour forth any of those little
civilities with which the lips of your English innkeeper would
overflow. On the contrary, be prepared for his lifting up his eyes,
and shrugging up his shoulders, (the shrug is not the courtier-like
shrug of antique days,) and telling you that the apartment is as you
see it, that it is for Monsieur to make up his mind whether he take it
or not. The whole is the affair of the guest, and remains a matter of
perfect indifference to the host. Your landlady, it is true, is not
quite so haughty on these occasions. But you are indebted for her
smile rather to the coquetry of the beauty, than to the civility of
the hostess. She will tell you, adjusting her head-dress in the mirror
standing upon the chimney-piece in the little "salon" she
recommends--"que Monsieur s'y trouvera fort bien, qu'un milord
Anglais, qu'un prince Russe, ou qu'un colonel du ----ieme de dragons,
a occupe cette meme chambre"--and that there is just by an excellent
restaurateur and a "cabinet de lecture"--and then--her head-dress
being quite in order--the lady expanding her arms with a gentle smile,
says, "Mais apres tout, c'est a Monsieur a se decider." It is this
which makes your French gentleman so loud in praise of English
politeness. One was expatiating to me the other day on the admirable
manners of the English.
"I went," said he, "to the Duke of Devonshire's, '_dans mon pauvre
fiacre_:' never shall I forget the respect with which a stately
gentleman, gorgeously apparelled, opened the creaking door, let down
the steps, and--courtesy of very courtesies--picked, actually picked,
the dirty straws of the ignominious vehicle that I descended from, off
my shoes and stockings." This occurred to the French gentleman at the
Duke of Devonshire's. But let your English gentleman visit a French
"grand seigneur!" He enters the antechamber from the grand escalier.
The servants are at a game of dominos, from which his entrance hardly
disturbs them, and fortunate is he if any one conduct him with a
careless lazy air to the "salon." So, if you go to Boivin's, or if you
go to Howel's and James's, with what politeness, with what celerity,
with what respect your orders are received at the great man's of
Waterloo Place--with what an easy nonchalance you are treated in the
Rue de la Paix! All this is quite true; but there are things more
shocking than all this. I know a gentleman, who called the other day
on a French lady of his acquaintance, who was under the hands of her
"coiffeur." The artiste of the hair was there, armed cap-a-pie, in all
the glories of national-guardism, brandishing his comb with the grace
and dexterity with which he would have wielded a sword, and
recounting, during the operation of the toilette--now a story of
"_Monsieur son Capitaine_"--now an anecdote, equally interesting, of
"_Monsieur son Colonel_"--now a tale of "_Monsieur son Roi_, that
excellent man, on whom he was going to mount guard that very evening."
My unhappy friend's face still bore the most awful aspect of dismay,
as he told his story. "By G--d, there's a country for you," said he;
"can property be safe for a moment in such a country? There can be no
religion, no morality, with such manners--I shall order post-horses
immediately."
I did not wonder at my friend--at his horror for so fearful a
familiarity. What are our parents always, and no doubt wisely
repeating to us? "You should learn, my dear, to keep _a certain kind
of persons_ at their proper distance."
In no circumstances are we to forget this important lesson. If the
clouds hurled their thunders upon our heads, if the world tumbled
topsy-turvy about our ears,
"Si fractus illabatur orbis,"
it is to find the well-bred Englishman as it would have found the just
Roman--and, above all things, it is not to derange the imperturbable
disdain with which he is enfeoffed to his inferiors. Lady D. was going
to Scotland: a violent storm arose. Her ladyship was calmly dressing
her hair, when the steward knocked at the cabin-door. "My lady," said
the man, "I think it right to tell you there is every chance of our
being drowned." "Do not talk to me, you impertinent fellow,
about drowning," said her aristocratical ladyship, perfectly
unmoved--"that's the captain's business, and not mine."
Our great idea of civility is, that the person who is poor should be
exceedingly civil to the person who is wealthy: and this is the
difference between the neighboring nations. Your Frenchman admits no
one to be quite his equal--your Englishman worships every one richer
than himself as undeniably his superior. Judge us from our servants
and our shopkeepers, it is true we are the politest people in the
world. The servants, who are paid well, and the shopkeepers, who sell
high--scrape, and cringe, and smile. There is no country where those
who have wealth are treated so politely by those to whom it goes; but
at the same time there is no country where those who are well off live
on such cold, and suspicious, and ill-natured, and uncivil terms among
themselves.
The rich man who travels in France murmurs at every inn and at every
shop; not only is he treated no better for being a rich man--he is
treated worse in many places, from the idea that because he is rich he
is likely to give himself airs. But if the lower classes are more rude
to the higher classes than with us, the higher classes in France are
far less rude to one another. The dandy who did not look at an old
acquaintance, or who looked impertinently at a stranger, would have
his nose pulled and his body run through with a small-sword--or
damaged by a pistol-bullet--before the evening was well over. Where
every man wishes to be higher than he is, there you find people
insolent to their fellows, and exacting obsequiousness from their
inferiors--where men will allow no one to be superior to themselves,
there you see them neither civil to those above them, nor impertinent
to those beneath them, nor yet very courteous to those in the same
station. The manners, checkered in one country by softness and
insolence, are not sufficiently courteous and gentle in the other.
Time was in France, (it existed in England to a late date,) when
politeness was thought to consist in placing every one at his ease. A
quiet sense of their own dignity rendered persons insensible to the
fear of its being momentarily forgotten. Upon these days rested the
shadow of a bygone chivalry, which accounted courtesy as one of the
virtues. The civility of that epoch, as contrasted with the civility
of ours, was not the civility of the domestic or the tradesman, meant
to pamper the pride of their employer, but the civility of the noble
and the gentleman, meant to elevate the modesty of those who
considered themselves in an inferior state. Corrupted by the largesses
of an expensive and intriguing court, the "grand seigneur," after the
reign of Louis XIV., became over-civil and servile to those above him.
Beneath the star of the French minister beat the present heart of the
British mercer--and softly did the great man smile on those from whom
he had any thing to gain. As whatever was taught at Versailles was
learnt in the Rue St. Denis, when the courtier had the air of a
solicitor, every one aped the air of the courtier; and the whole
nation with one hand expressing a request, and the other an
obligation, might have been taken in the attitude of the graceful old
beggar, whose accost made such an impression upon me.
But a new nobility grew up in rivalry to the elder one; and as the
positions of society became more complicated and uncertain, a supreme
civility to some was seen side by side with a sneering insolence to
others--a revolution in manners, which embittered as it hastened the
revolution of opinions. Thus the manners of the French in the time of
Louis XVI. had one feature of similarity with ours at present. A
moneyed aristocracy was then rising into power in France, as a moneyed
aristocracy is now rising into power in England. This is the
aristocracy which demands obsequious servility--which is jealous and
fearful of being treated with disrespect; this is the aristocracy
which is haughty, insolent, and susceptible; which dreams of affronts
and gives them: this is the aristocracy which measures with an
uncertain eye the height of an acquaintance; this is the aristocracy
which cuts and sneers--this aristocracy, though the aristocracy of the
revolution of July, is now too powerless in France to be more than
vulgar in its pretensions. French manners, then, if they are not
gracious, are at all events not insolent; while ours, unhappily,
testify on one hand the insolence, while they do not on the other
represent the talent and the grace of that society which presided over
the later suppers of the old regime. We have no Monsieur de
Fitz-James, who might be rolled in a gutter all his life, as was said
by a beautiful woman of his time, "without ever contracting a spot of
dirt." We have no Monsieur de Narbonne, who stops in the fiercest of a
duel to pick up the ruffled rose that had slipped in a careless moment
from his lips during the graceful conflict! You see no longer in
France that noble air, that "_great manner_," as it was called, by
which the old nobility strove to keep up the distinction between
themselves and their worse-born associates to the last, and which of
course those associates _assiduously imitated_.
That manner is gone: the French, so far from being a polite nation at
the present day, want that easiness of behavior which is the first
essential to politeness. Every man you meet is occupied with
maintaining his dignity, and talks to you of _his_ position. There is
an evident effort and struggle, I will not say to appear better than
you are, but to appear _all_ that _you are_, and to allow no person to
think that you consider him better than you. Persons, no longer
ranked by classes, take each by themselves an individual place in
society. They are so many atoms, not forming a congruous or harmonious
whole. They are too apt to strut forward singly, and to say with a
great deal of action, and a great deal of emphasis, "I am--_nobody_."
The French are no longer polite, but in the French nation, as in every
nation, there is an involuntary and traditionary respect which hallows
what is gone-by; and among the marvels of modern France is a religion
which ranks an agreeable smile and a graceful bow as essential virtues
of its creed.
Nor does the Pere Enfantin stand alone. There is something touching in
the language of the old "seigneur," who, placed as it were between two
epochs, looking backwards and forwards to the graces of past times and
the virtues of new, thus expresses himself:
"Les progres de la lumiere et de la liberte ont certainment fait faire
de grands pas a la raison humaine; mais aussi dans sa route,
n'a-t-elle rien perdu? Moi qui ne suis pas un de ces opiniatres
proneurs de ce bon vieux temp qui n'est plus, je ne puis m'empecher de
regretter ce bon gout, cette grace, cette fleur d'enjouement et
d'urbanite qui chassait de la societe tout ennui en permettant au bon
sens de sourire et a la sagesse de se parer. Aujourd 'hui beaucoup de
gens ressemblent a un proprietaire morose, qui, ne songeant qu'a
l'utile, bannirait de son jardin les fleurs, et ne voudrait y voir que
du ble, des foins et des fruits."
From Fraser's Magazine.
THE LION IN THE TOILS.
BY C. ASTOR BRISTED.
What followed the events related in our last number gave Ashburner a
lesson against making up his mind too hastily on any points of
character, national or individual. A fortnight after his arrival at
Oldport he would have said that the Americans were the most
communicative people he had ever fallen in with, and particularly,
that the men of "our set" were utterly incapable of keeping secret any
act or purpose of their lives, any thing that had happened, or was
going to happen. _Now_ he was surprised at the discretion shown by the
men cognizant of the late row (and they comprised all the fashionables
left in the place, and some of the outsiders, like Simpson); their
dexterity and careful management, first, to prevent the affair from
coming to a fight, and then, if that were impossible, to keep it from
publicity until the parties were safe over the border into Canada,
where they might "shoot each other like gentlemen," as a young
gentleman from Alabama expressed it. Sedley himself, whose
officiousness had precipitated the quarrel, did all in his power to
prevent any further mischief, and was as sedulous for the promotion of
_silencio_ and _misterio_, as if he had been leader of a chorus of
Venetian Senators. _The Sewer_ reporters, who, in their eagerness to
collect every bit of gossip and scandal, would have given the ears
which an outraged community had permitted them to retain for a
knowledge of the fracas and its probable consequences, never had the
least inkling of it. Indeed, so quietly was the whole managed, that
Ashburner never made out the cause of the old feud, nor was able to
form any opinion on the probability of its final issue. On the former
point he could only come to the conclusion from what he heard, that
Hunter had been mythologizing, as his wont was, something to Benson's
discredit several years before, and had been trying to make mischief
between him and some of his friends or relations; but what the exact
offence was, whether Sumner was involved in the quarrel from the
first, and if so, to what extent; and whether the legend about the
horse was a part of, or only an addition to the original
grievance;--on these particulars he remained in the dark. As to the
latter, he knew that Hunter had not challenged Benson, and that he had
left the place, but whether to look up a friend or not, no one seemed
to know, or if they did, no one cared to tell. At any rate, he did not
return for a week and more, during which time Ashburner had full
opportunity of studying the behavior and feelings of a man with a duel
in prospect.
Those who defend and advocate the practice of duelling, if asked to
explain the motives leading a gentleman to fight, would generally
answer somewhat to this effect: in the first place, personal courage
which induces a man to despise danger and death, in comparison with
any question affecting his own honor, or that of those connected with
him; secondly, a respect for the opinion of the society in which he
moves, which opinion, to a certain extent, supplies and fixes the
definition of honor. Hence it would follow that, given a man who is
neither physically brave, nor bound by any particular respect for the
opinion of his daily associates, and the world he moves in, such a man
would not be likely to give or accept a challenge. The case under
Ashburner's observation afforded a palpable contradiction to this
conclusion.
Henry Benson was not personally valorous; what courage he possessed
was rather of a moral than a physical kind. Where he appeared to be
daring and heedless, it proved on examination to be the result of
previous knowledge and practice, which gave him confidence and armed
him with impunity. Thus he would drive his trotters at any thing, and
shave through "tight places" on rough and crowded roads, his
whiffle-trees tipping and his hubs grazing the surrounding wheels in a
way that at first made Ashburner shudder in spite of himself; but it
was because his experience in wagon-driving enabled him to measure
distances within half-an-inch, and to catch an available opening
immediately. On the other hand, in their pedestrian trips across
country in Westchester, he was very chary of jumping fences or ditches
till he had ascertained by careful practice his exact capacity for
that sort of exercise. He would ride his black horse, Daredevil, who
was the terror of all the servants and women in his neighborhood,
because he had made himself perfectly acquainted with all the animal's
stock of tricks, and was fully prepared for them as they came; but he
never went the first trip in a new steamboat or railroad line. He ate
and drank many things considered unhealthy, because he understood
exactly from experience what and how much he could take without
injury; but you could not have bribed him to sit fifteen minutes in
wet boots. In short, he was a man who took excellent care of himself,
_canny_ as a Scot or a New-Englander, loving the good things of life,
and not disposed to hazard them on slight grounds. Then as to the
approbation or disapprobation of those about him, he was almost
entirely careless of it. On any point beyond the cut of a coat, the
decoration of a room, the concoction of a dish, or the merits of a
horse, there were not ten people in his own set whose opinion he
heeded. To the remarks of foreigners he was a little more sensitive,
but even these he was more apt to retort upon by a _tu quoque_ than to
be influenced by. Add to all this, that he had the convenient excuse
of being a communicant at church, which, in America, implies something
like a formal profession of religion. Yet at this time he was not only
willing, but most eager to fight. The secret lay in his state of
recklessness. A moment of passion had overturned all his instincts,
principles, and common-sense, and inspired him with the feverish
desire to pay off his old debts to Storey Hunter, at whatever cost.
And as neither the possession of extraordinary personal courage, nor a
high sense of conventional honor, nor a respect for the opinion of
society, necessarily induces a feeling of recklessness, so neither
does the absence of these qualities prevent the presence of this
feeling, exactly the most favorable one to make a man engage in a
duel. Moralists have called such a condition one of temporary madness,
and it has probably as good grounds to be classed with insanity as
many of the pleas known to medical and criminal jurisprudence.
Be this as it may, Ashburner had a good opportunity of observing--and
the example, it is to be hoped, was of service to him--the
demoralization induced upon a man by the mere impending possibility of
a duel. Benson seemed careless what he did. He danced frantically, and
drank so much at all hours, that the Englishman, though pretty
strong-headed himself, wondered how he could keep sober. He was openly
seen reading _The Blackguard's Own_, a weekly of _The Sewer_ species.
He made up trotting-matches with every man in the place who owned a
"fast crab," and with some acquaintances at a distance, by
correspondence. He kept studiously out of the way of his wife and
child, lest their influence might shake his determination. All this
time he practised pistol-shooting most religiously. Neither of the
belligerents had ever given a public proof of skill in this line.
Hunter's ability was not known, and Benson's shooting so uncertain and
variable when any one looked on, that those in the secret suspected
him of playing dark and disguising his hand. All which added to the
interest of the affair.
But when eleven days had passed without signs or tidings of Hunter,
and it seemed pretty clear that he had gone away "for good," Benson
started up one morning, and went off himself to New-York, at the same
time with Harrison, whose brief and not very joyous holidays had come
to a conclusion. He accompanied the banker, in accordance with the
true American principle, always to have a lion for your companion when
you can; and as Harrison was still a man of note in Wall-street,
however small might be his influence in his own household, Benson
liked to be seen with him, and to talk any thing--even stocks--to him,
though he had no particular interest in the market at that time. But
whether an American is in business himself or not, the subject of
business is generally an interesting one to him, and he is always
ready to gossip about dollars. The unexampled material development of
the United States is only maintained by a condition of society which
requires every man to take a share in assisting that development, and
the most frivolous and apparently idle men are found sharp enough in
pecuniary matters. This trait of national character lies on the
surface, and foreigners have not been slow to notice it, and to
draw from it unfavorable conclusions. The supplementary and
counterbalancing features of character to be observed in these very
people,--that it is rather the fun of making the money than the money
itself which they care for; that when it is made, they spend it
freely, and part with it more readily than they earned it; that they
are more liberal both in their public and private charities
(considering the amount of their wealth, and of the claims upon it)
than any nation in the world,--all these traits strangers have been
less ready to dwell upon and do justice to.
Benson was gone, and Ashburner stayed. Why? He had been at Oldport
nearly a month; the place was not particularly beautiful, and the
routine of amusements not at all to his taste. Why did he stay? He had
his secret, too.
It is a melancholy but indisputable fact, that even in the most
religious and moral country in the world, the bulwark of evangelical
faith, and the home of the domestic virtues (meaning, of course,
England), a great many mothers who have daughters to marry, are not so
anxious about the real welfare, temporal and eternal, of their young
ladies, as solicitous that they should acquire riches, titles, and
other vanities of the world,--nay, that many of the daughters
themselves act as if their everlasting happiness depended on their
securing in matrimony a proper combination of the aforesaid vanities,
and put out of account altogether the greatest prize a woman can
gain--the possession of a true and loving heart, joined to a wise
head. Now, Ashburner being a very good _parti_ at home, and having run
the gauntlet of one or two London seasons, had become very skittish of
mammas, and still more so of daughters. He regarded the unmarried
female as a most dangerous and altogether to be avoided animal, and
when you offered to introduce him to a young lady, looked about as
grateful as if you had invited him to go up in a balloon. He expected
to be rather more persecuted, if any thing, in America than he had
been at home; and when he met Miss Vanderlyn at Ravenswood, if his
first thought had found articulate expression, it would probably have
been something like this:--"Now that young woman is going to set her
cap at me; what a bore it will be!"
Never was a man more mistaken in his anticipations. He encountered
many pretty girls, not at all timid, ready enough to talk, and flirty
enough among their own set, but not one of them threw herself at him,
and least of all did Miss Vanderlyn. Not that the young lady was the
victim of a romantic attachment, for she was perfectly fancy free and
heart whole; nor, on the other hand, that she was at all insensible to
the advantages of matrimony, for she kept a very fair lookout in that
direction, and had, if not absolutely down on her books, at least
engraved on the recording tablets of her mind, four distinct young
gentlemen, combining the proper requisites, any of whom would suit her
pretty well, and one of whom--she didn't much care which--she was
pretty well resolved to marry within the next two years. And as she
was stylish and rather handsome, clever enough, and tolerably provided
with the root of all evil, besides having that fortunate good humor
and accommodating disposition which go so far towards making a woman a
belle and a favorite, there was a sufficient probability that before
the expiration of that time, one of the four would offer himself. But
all her calculations were founded on shrewd common sense; her
imagination took no flights, and her aspirations only extended to the
ordinary and possible. That this young and strange Englishman,
travelling as a part of education, the son of a great man, and
probably betrothed by proxy to some great man's daughter, or going
into parliament to be a great man himself, and remain a bachelor for
the best part of his life,--that between him and herself there should
by any thing in common, any point of union which could make even a
flirtation feasible, never entered into her head. She would as soon
have expected the King of Dahomey to send an embassy with ostrich
feathers in their caps, and rings in their noses, formally to ask her
hand in marriage. Nay, even if the incredible event had come to pass,
and the young stranger had taken the initiative, even then she would
not by any means have jumped at the bait. For in the first place, she
was fully imbued with the idea that the Vanderlyns were quite as good
as any other people in the world, and that (the ordinary conceit of an
American belle) to whatever man she might give her hand, all the honor
would come from her side, and all the gain be his; therefore she would
not have cared to come into a family who might suspect her of having
inveigled their heir, and look down upon her as something beneath
them, because she came from a country where there were no noblemen.
Secondly, there is a very general feeling among the best classes in
America, that no European worth any thing at home comes to America to
get married. The idea is evidently an imperfect generalization, and
liable to exceptions; but the prevalence of it shows more modesty in
the "Upper Ten's" appreciation of themselves than they usually have
credit for. As soon, therefore, as a foreigner begins to pay attention
to a young lady in good society, it is _prima facie_ ground of
suspicion against him. The reader will see from all this how little
chance there was of Ashburner's running any danger from the unmarried
women about him. With the married ones the case was somewhat
different. It may be remembered, that at his first introduction to
Mrs. Henry Benson, the startling contrast she exhibited to the
adulation he had been accustomed to receive, totally put him down; and
that afterwards she softened off the rough edge of her satire, and
became very _piquante_ and pleasing to him. And as she greatly amused
him, so he began to suspect that she was rather proud of having such a
lion in her train, as no doubt she was, notwithstanding the somewhat
rough and cub-like stage of his existence. So he began to hang about
her, and follow her around in his green awkward way, and look large
notes of admiration at her; and she was greatly diverted, and not at
all displeased at his attentions. I don't know how far it might have
gone; Ashburner was a very correct and moral young man, as the world
goes, but rather because he had generally business enough on hand to
keep him out of mischief, than from any high religious principle; and
I am afraid that in spite of the claims of propriety, and honor, and
friendship, and the avenging Zeus of hospitality, and every other
restraining motive, he would have fallen very much in love with Mrs.
Benson but for one thing.
He was hopelessly in love with Mrs. Harrison. How or when it began he
couldn't tell; but he found himself under the influence imperceptibly,
as a man feels himself intoxicated. Sometimes he fancied that there
had been a kind of love at first sight--that with the first glimpse he
had of her, something in his heart told him that that woman was
destined to exert a mastery over him; yet his feelings must have
undergone a change and growth, for he would not now have listened to
any one speaking of her as Benson had done at that time. _Why_ it was,
he could still less divine. His was certainly not the blind
admiration which sees no fault in its idol; he saw her faults plainly
enough, and yet could not help himself. He often asked himself how it
happened that if he _was_ doomed to endure an illicit and unfortunate
passion, it was not for Mrs. Benson rather than Mrs. Harrison; for the
former was at least as clever, certainly handsomer, palpably younger,
indubitably more lady-like, and altogether a higher style of woman.
Yet with this just appreciation of them, there was no comparison as to
his feelings towards the two. The one amused and delighted him when
present; the other, in her absence, was ever rising up before his
mind's eye, and drawing him after her; and when they met, his
heart beat quicker, and he was more than usually awkward and
confused.--Perhaps there had been, in the very origin of his
entanglement and passion, some guiding impulse of honor, some sense
that Benson had been his friend and entertainer, and that to Harrison
he was under no personal obligations. For there are many shades of
honor and dishonor in dishonorable thoughts, and a little principle
goes a great way with some people, like the wind commemorated by Joe
Miller's Irishman, of which there was not much, _but what there was,
was very high_.
Be this as it may, he was loving to perdition--or thought so, at
least; and it is hard to discriminate in a very young man's case
between the conceit and the reality of love. His whole heart and mind
were taken up with one great, all-pervading idea of Mrs. Harrison, and
he was equally unable to smother and to express his flame. He was
dying to make her a present of something, but he could send nothing
without a fear of exciting suspicion, except bouquets; and of these
floral luxuries, though they were only to be procured at Oldport with
much trouble and expense, she had always a supply from other quarters.
He did not like to be one of a number in his offerings; he wanted to
pay her some peculiar tribute. He would have liked to fight some man
for her, to pick a quarrel with some one who had said something
against her. Proud and sensitive to ridicule as he was, he would have
laid himself down in her way, and let her walk over him, could he have
persuaded himself that she would be gratified by such a proof of
devotion, and that it would help his cause with her.
Had Benson been in Oldport now, there might have been trouble,
inasmuch as he was not particular about what he said, and not too well
disposed towards Mrs. Harrison, while Ashburner was just in a state of
mind to have fought with his own father on that theme. But Benson was
away, and his absence at this time was not a source of regret to
Ashburner, who felt a little afraid of him, and with some reason, for
our friend Harry was as observant as if he had a fly's allowance of
eyes, and had a knack of finding out things without looking for them,
and of knowing things without asking about them; and he would
assuredly have noticed that Ashburner began to be less closely
attached to his party, and to follow in the train of Mrs. Harrison. As
for Clara Benson, she never troubled herself about the Englishman's
falling off in his attentions to her; if any thing, she was rather
glad of it; her capricious disposition made her tire of a friend in a
short time; she could not endure any one's uninterrupted company--not
even her husband's, who therefore wisely took care to absent himself
from her several times every year.
Moreover, though Ashburner was seen in attendance on the lioness, it
was not constantly or in a pointed manner. He was still fighting with
himself, and, like a man run away with, who has power to guide his
horse though not to stop him, he was so far able to manage his passion
as to keep it from an open display. So absolutely no one suspected
what was the matter with him, or that there was any thing the matter
with him, except the lady herself. Catch a woman not finding out when
a man is in love with her! Sometimes she may delude herself with
imagining a passion where none exists, but she never makes the
converse mistake of failing to perceive it where it does. And how did
the gay Mrs. Harrison, knowing and perceiving herself to be thus
loved, make use of her knowledge? What alteration did it produce in
her conduct and bearing towards her admirer? Absolutely none at all.
Precisely as she had treated him at their first introduction did she
continue to treat him--as if he were one of her everyday
acquaintances, and nothing more. And it is precisely this line of
action that utterly breaks down a man's defences, and makes him more
hopelessly than ever the slave of his fair conqueror. If a woman
declares open hostilities against him, runs him down behind his back,
snubs him to his face, shuns his society,--this at least shows that
she considers his attachment of some consequence--consequence enough
to take notice of, though the notice be unfavorable. His self-respect
may come to the rescue, or his piqued vanity may save him by
converting love into enmity. But a perseverance in never noticing his
love, and feigning to be ignorant of its existence, completely
establishes her supremacy over him.
A Frenchman, who has conceived designs against a married lady, only
seeks to throw dust in the husband's eyes, and then if he cannot
succeed in his final object, at least to establish sufficient intimacy
to give him a plausible pretext for saying that he has succeeded; for
in such a matter he is not scrupulous about lying a little--or a great
deal. An American, bad enough for a similar intention (which usually
presupposes a considerable amount of _Parisianization_), acts as much
like a Frenchman--if anything, rather worse. An Englishman is not
usually moved to the desire of an intrigue by vanity, but driven into
it by sheer passion, and his first impulse is to run bodily off with
the object of his misplaced affection; to take her and himself out of
the country, as if he could thereby travel out of his moral
responsibilities. Reader, did you ever notice, or having noticed, did
you ever ponder upon the geographical distribution of morals and
propriety which is so marked and almost peculiar a feature of the
Anglo-Saxon mind? In certain outward looks and habits, the English may
be unchangeable and unmistakeable all over the globe; but their
ethical code is certainly not the same at home and abroad. It is
pretty much so with an American, too, before he has become irreparably
Parisianized. When he puts on his travelling habits, he takes off his
puritan habits, and makes light of doing things abroad which he would
be the first to anathematize at home. Observe, we are not speaking of
the deeply religious, nor yet of the openly profligate class in either
country, but of the general run of respectable men who travel; they
regard a great part of their morality and their manners as intended
solely for home consumption; while a Frenchman or a German, if his
home standard is not so high, lives better up to it abroad. And yet
many Englishmen, and some Americans, wonder why their countrymen are
so unpopular as foreign travellers!
Ashburner, then, wanted to run away with Mrs. Harrison. How he could
have supported her never entered into his thoughts, nor did he
consider what the effect would be on his own prospects. He did not
reflect, either, how miserably selfish it was in him, after all, to
expect that this woman would give up her fortune and position, her
children, her unbounded legitimate domination over her husband, for
his boyish passion, and how infinitesimally small the probability that
she would do so crazy a thing. Nor did Harrison ever arise before his
mind as a present obstacle or future danger; and this was less frantic
than most of his overlookings. The broker was a strong and courageous
man, and probably had been once very much in love with his wife; but
at that time, so far from putting a straw in the way of any man who
wanted to relieve him of her, he would probably have been willing to
pay his expenses into the bargain.
But how to declare his passion--that was the question. He saw that the
initiatory steps, and very decided ones, must be taken on his part;
and it was not easy to find the lady alone ten minutes together.
People lived at Newport as if they were in the open air, and the
volunteer police of ordinary gossip made private interviews between
well-known people a matter of extreme difficulty. A Frenchman
similarly placed would have brought the affair to a crisis much
sooner: he would have found a thousand ways of disclosing his
feelings, and at the same time dexterously leaving himself a loop-hole
of escape. Very clever at these things are the Gauls; they will make
an avowal in full ball-room, under cover of the music, if there is no
other chance to be had. But tact in love affairs is not a
characteristic of the Englishman, especially at Ashburner's age. He
had none of this mischievous dexterity; perhaps it is just as well
when a man has not, both for himself and for society. He thought of
writing, and actually began many letters or notes, or billet-doux, or
whatever they might be called; but they always seemed so absurd (as
truly they were), that he invariably tore them up when half-finished.
He thought of serving up his flame in verse (for about this time the
unhappy youth wrote many verses, which on his return to sanity he very
wisely made away with); but his emotion lay too deep for verse, and
his performances seemed even to himself too ridiculous for him to
dream of presenting them. Still he must make a beginning somehow; he
could not ask her to run away with him apropos of nothing.
One of his great anxieties, you may be sure, was to find out if any
other man stood in his way, and who that man might be. His first
impulses were to be indiscriminately jealous of every man he saw
talking or walking with her; but on studying out alone the result of
his observations, he could not discover that she affected any one man
more than another. For this was one of her happy arts, that she made
herself attractive to all without showing a marked preference for any
one. White, who among his other accomplishments had a knack of quoting
the standard poets, compared her to Pope's Belinda--saying, that her
lively looks disclosed a sprightly mind, and that she extended smiles
to all, and favors to none. So that Ashburner's jealousy could find no
fixed object to light on. At one time he had been terribly afraid of
Le Roi, chiefly from having heard the lady praise him for his
accomplishments and agreeable manners. But once he heard Sedley say,
that Mrs. Harrison had been worrying Le Roi half out of his wits, and
quite out of his temper.
"How so?"
"Oh, she was praising you, and saying how much she liked the English
character, and how true and honest your countrymen were--so much more
to be depended on than the French--and more manly, too; and altogether
she worked him up into such a rage against _ces insulaires_, that he
went off ready to swear."
And then Ashburner suspected what he afterwards became certain
of--that this was only one of the pleasant little ways the woman had
of amusing herself. Whenever she found two men who were enemies, or
rivals, or antagonists in any way, she would praise each to the other,
on purpose to aggravate them: and very successful she was in her
purpose; for she had the greatest appearance of sincerity, and
whatever she said seemed to come right out of her heart. But if any
lingering fears of Le Roi still haunted the Englishman's mind, they
were dispelled by his departure along with the main body of the
exclusives. Though always proud to be seen in the company of a
conspicuous character like Mrs. Harrison, the Vicomte more
particularly cultivated the fashionables proper, and gladly embraced
the opportunity of following, in the train of the Robinsons.
Perhaps, after all, Ashburner would have preferred being able to
concentrate his suspicions upon one definite person, to feeling a
vague distrust of somebody he knew not whom, especially as the
presence of a rival might have brought the affair to a crisis sooner.
To a crisis it was approaching, nevertheless, for his passion now
began to tell on him. He looked pale, and grew nervous and weak--lay
awake at nights, which he had never done before, except when going in
for the Tripos at Cambridge--and was positively off his feed, which he
had never been at any previous period of his life. He thought of
tearing himself away from the place--the wisest course, doubtless;
but, just as he had made up his mind to go by the next stage, Mrs.
Harrison, as if she divined what he was about, would upset all his
plans by a few words, or a look or smile--some little expression which
meant nothing, and could never be used against her; but which, by a
man in his state, might be interpreted to mean a great deal.
One morning the crisis came--not that there was any particular reason
for it then more than at any other time, only he could hold out no
longer. It was a beautiful day, and they had been strolling in one of
the few endurable walks the place afforded--a winding alley near the
hotel, but shrouded in trees, and it was just at the time when most of
the inhabitants were at ten-pins, so that they were tolerably alone.
Now, if ever, was the time; but the more he tried to introduce the
subject, the less possible he found it to make a beginning, and all
the while he could not avoid a dim suspicion that Mrs. Harrison knew
perfectly well what he was trying to drive at, and took a mischievous
pleasure in saying nothing to help him along. So they talked about his
travels and hers, and great people in England and France, and all
sorts of people then at Oldport, and the weather even--all manner of
ordinary topics; and then they walked some time without saying
anything, and then they went back to the hotel. There he felt as if
his last chance was slipping away from him, and in a sudden fit of
desperate courage he followed her up to her parlor without waiting for
an invitation. Hardly was the door closed--he would have given the
world to have locked it--when he begged her to listen to him a few
minutes on a subject of the greatest importance. The lady opened her
large round eyes a little wider; it was the only sign she gave of any
thing approaching to surprise. Then the young man unbosomed himself
just as he stood there--not upon his knees; people used to do that--in
books, at least--but nobody does now. He told her how long he had been
in love with her--how he thought of her all day and all night, and how
wretched he was--how he had tried to subdue his passion, knowing it
was very wrong, and so forth; but really he couldn't help it,
and--and--there he stuck fast; for all the time he had been making
this incoherent avowal, like one in a dream, hardly knowing what he
was about, but conscious only of taking a decisive step, and doing a
very serious thing in a very wild way--all this time, nevertheless, he
had most closely watched Mrs. Harrison, to anticipate his sentence in
some look or gesture of hers. And he saw that there did not move a
line in her face, or a muscle in her whole figure--not a fibre of her
dress even stirred. If she had been a great block of white marble, she
could not have shown less feeling, as she stood up there right
opposite him. If he had asked her to choose a waistcoat pattern for
him, she could not have heard him more quietly. As soon as he had
fairly paused, so that she could speak without immediate interruption,
she took up the reply. It was better that he should go no further, as
she had already understood quite enough. She was very sorry to give
him pain--it was always unpleasant to give pain to any one. She was
also very sorry that he had so deceived himself, and so misapprehended
her character, or misunderstood her conversation. He was very young
yet, and had sense enough to get over this very soon. Of course, she
would never hear any repetition of such language from him; and, on her
part, she would never mention what had occurred to any one--especially
not to Mr. Harrison (it was the first time he had ever heard her
allude to the existence of that gentleman); and then she wound up with
a look which said as plainly as the words could have done, "Now, you
may go."
Ashburner moved off in a more than usual state of confusion. As he
approached the door it opened suddenly, and he nearly walked over one
of the little Bleeckers, a flourishing specimen of Young New-York,
with about three yards of green satin round his throat, and both his
hands full of French novels, which he had been commissioned to bring
from the circulating library. Ashburner felt like choking him, and it
was only by a great effort that he contrived to pass him with a barely
civil species of nod. But as he went out, he could not refrain from
casting one glance back at Mrs. Harrison. She had taken off her bonnet
(which in America is denominated a hat), and was tranquilly arranging
her hair at the glass.
Somehow or other he found his way down stairs, and rushed off into the
country on a tearing walk, enraged and disgusted with every thing, and
with himself most of all. When a man has made up his mind to commit a
sin, and then has been disappointed in the fruition of it--when he has
sold the birthright of his integrity, without getting the miserable
mess of pottage for it which he expected, his feelings are not the
most enviable. Ashburner was angry enough to marry the first heiress
he met with. First, he half resolved to get up a desperate flirtation
with Mrs. Benson; but the success of his first attempt was not
encouraging to the prosecution of a second. To kill himself was not in
his line; but he felt very like killing some one else. He still
feared he might have been made a screen for some other man. But if the
other man existed, he could only be reached by fighting successively
all the single men of "our set," and a fair sprinkling of those in the
second set. Then he thought he must at least leave the place, but his
pride still revolted at the idea of running away before a woman.
Finally, after walking about ten miles, and losing his dinner, he
sobered down gradually, and thought what a fool he had been; and the
issue of his cogitations was a very wise double conclusion. He formed
a higher opinion of the virtue of American women, and he never
attempted any experiments on another.
From Sharpe's London Magazine.
THE MAN OF TACT.
There is no distinctive term more frequently employed, and less
generally understood, than the word "Tact." It is in every one's
mouth, and many have a vague notion of its meaning, who yet, if
required, would find no slight difficulty in giving its definition. It
is the application of perceptive common-sense to life's practical
details; the correct adaptation of means to ends, from an intuitive
knowledge of character, blended with a careful concealment, a discreet
evasion of our own, except when amiable faults are avowed, to enhance
the impression of our candor. Cameleon-like, "tact" assumes the color
of contingent circumstances,--is the vague, yet potent spirit, with
its shadowless finger arresting the impulses; an unseen ruler of the
thoughts, winding its gossamer yet adamantine meshes like a spell; the
uncaught "hic et ubique" arbiter of mortal destinies embodied in a
fellow-mortal.
When we speak of the "man of tact," as of one in whom this quality
predominates,--as hereafter we shall speak of the man of honor, of
genius, and of sense, we must confess that above most other
characteristics, this is especially absorbent in its influence, and
generally usurps the government of the whole man. It collects into its
own stream the channels of other motives, which it renders tributary,
until it pervades the whole moral surface with one obliterating
deluge. If not watched, it will hence induce a general deceptiveness,
for the other impulses will partake of its color, shrewdness will
become cunning, discretion will change into artful dexterity. Its very
progress is sinuous and oblique, never more so than when assuming the
guise of straightforwardness and truth; but if divested of its baser
elements, it will soar into the higher intellectuals, and will claim
affinity to practical observation, or, to speak phrenologically, to
causality. In this view it combines with prudence, also with
self-discipline, in the regulation of the temper; in fact, is the
child of judgment, inheriting with its parent's calmness somewhat of
her coldness too.
Observe that man sitting in the private room of one of our largest
mercantile establishments. Risen from a low grade to the direction of
a vast concern, at one time intrusted with a mission abroad of a most
important yet delicate character, he owes the eminence he has attained
entirely to tact. The features are now in repose, take your
opportunity to watch them (for they are seldom so, and if he were
aware of observation, would assume a different expression); how the
wear upon nerves, even of such flexibility, imparts to the fatigued
countenance an air of study, ceaseless even in comparative inaction.
The open and bald forehead, clear, expansive, impending over deep-set,
small, yet fathomless eyes, restless and anxious in their motion; the
lips fullish, wearing at the corner a half-contemptuous yet
good-humored self-contentment, which tells of the owner's disdain for
the game of life, and yet of triumphant complacency at his own
successful skill in it. He smiles! Ah! he is thinking of how he
deluded that shallow <DW2>, Lord F----, whom fortune raised kindly to
conceal his puerilites by a coronet; or perhaps (as his eye dilates
with haughtier gaze) he dreams of having struck a nobler quarry, when
he outwitted the subtle Count de P----; for neither thought they were
following aught but the suggestion of their own will. This is the
mystery and mastery of tact. Had his victims seen that smile, the game
would have been lost; but he was different to each, the man was
changed. The lordling saw before him a free hearty abettor of youthful
folly, an Apicius, not a Mentor, one versed in life's vanities, yet
still ready to quaff the draught he satirized; sagacious in
criticising pleasure, yet reckless as the youngest in its pursuit; but
to the Count, the deferential air, the silent evidence of every
action, so sedulously courteous, yet so artless, attesting the
listener's (for he spoke but to inquire as if of an oracle, and
demurred but to render conviction more gracefully attractive)
reverence for the old diplomatist's sagacity; the rejoinder
dexterously introduced to confirm confidence in his visitor that he
was not wasting his instruction,--these and the thousand nameless
points of tact, dipped in the fountain of his own deep counsel,
instilled the wary practiser's motives into the mind of one,
apparently his confessed master in the art of diplomacy, convinced the
Count that he was regarded as the condensation of profound thought, of
astute sagacity; and it so happened, that if there was one
qualification in which the foreigner especially exulted more than any
other, it was upon his dexterity in deciphering disposition--in his
thorough knowledge of human nature!
We have said he was an adept in listening: indeed it was averred that
he obtained a large estate by the quiet attention with which he
listened to the toothless twaddle of a senile Dowager--age's
garrulity--the echo of an empty hall which thought has quitted. He
rarely, however, in any case interrupts the driest drawler, for he
has tutored attendants who understand not only whom to admit, but also
a hint as to the proper duration of a conference, and these with ready
message cut short the intruder's dull delay. If, also, in public or
private he be himself interrupted, he never loses his temper or the
point; resumes the thread just where it was broken, and with polite,
yet unswerving pertinacity, directs the minds of all to the wished-for
end, in spite of every purposed or involuntary attempt to distract
them into devious channels. Some men, like jackdaws, proclaim with
noisy loquaciousness their most private matters, alarming the public
horizon with egotistical chatter about their own nests: "tact," as the
master of it, Cromwell, knew, acknowledges the "safety of silence,"
and like the rat,--a subtle politician!--saps vast fabrics by an
insidious, unheard gnawing underground!
Briefly, this man listens much, speaks little--mostly the latter when
he would conceal his thoughts--keeps his eyes and ears open, his mouth
and his heart closed. With numerous admirers, he has many enemies--the
latter's hostility is however repressed by fear, and the regard of the
other, somehow, never ripens into love; it may be that selfishness,
the concomitant of tact, forbids affection. We have shown the fair
side of the portrait hitherto drawn from the respectable sphere (as it
is called) of life; but it has its evil counterpart or reverse to be
seen in a notorious receiver of stolen property, ever watched by, yet
ever baffling the police,--one, who, having helped many to the hulks,
has by sheer cunning (tact in motley!) himself escaped. The
consciences of both are similarly guided by the law of public not
private morality--interest is the ruling principle of both; even the
drudgery of each assimilates, for a life of dissimulation is a very
hard one. What actor would be _always_ on the stage? Both are
commercial men in a sense, though one lives at the west-end, the other
near Seven-dials; sometimes they meet,--the rich, upon--the poor,
before, the bench--"the Justice" in silk "frowns" on the speciously
"simple thief" in rags; yet nature has cut the countenances of both
from the same piece, and true it is that her "one touch," the
prevalence of tact, successful here,--in hard confronting
there--renders both "akin."
Yet not always does "tact" array itself in silken softness, or "stoop
to conquer:" some ply the trade with no less success under the guise
of rough and candid honesty: these men declare loudly that they always
speak their minds: come upon us with a bluff sincerity, disarming
prudence by an appearance of incautious trust and open-heartedness.
They "cannot cog," they cannot sue, they profess noisily to abhor
"humbug," as they term it, in every shape:--a strange ingratitude _to
what they chiefly thrive by_; for certain it is, that though
doubtlessly "all honorable men," these are the most insidious
tacticians, and generally of the worst kind.
Hitherto we have spoken of "tact" in its deteriorated shape, and
indeed the word seems to have got so bad a name that its bare mention
breathes distrust. Yet there is a medium class of men who, like
William of Orange, reduce violent feelings even to frigidity, and
allowing discretion her widest scope, do not entirely obliterate the
affections. Machiavelli says that "seldom men of mean fortunes attain
to high degrees without force or fraud, and generally rather by the
latter than the former," and hence he recommends guile to be
adopted--but these, to whom we now allude, practise prudence, yet
preserve their guileless sincerity. Here, though the term is rather
univocal, and seems to apply only to our concerns with others, its
healthy action is forcibly evinced on the individual's mind, for it
disciplines the impulses and reviews for ready co-action reason's
powers. So high did the ancients in their sense regard it, that they
elevated it to a divinity--"Nullum numen adest si sit Prudentia,"
though, as Addison observes, "this sort of discretion has no place in
private conversation between intimate friends. It occupies a neutral
ground between caution and art, uses expediency instead of integrity,
and hence deceives us by the first, when we look for the consistency
of the latter." Almost ever combined with conceit (the pride of
questionable success), it never possesses the magnanimity to confess
an error; for this detracting from its arrogated infallibility might
deteriorate its influence: it will acknowledge vices (if polite), but
will never plead guilty to mistakes, since the grossest charge against
the "man of tact" at the bar of self, much more of public judgment, is
not the perpetration of a sin--but the commission of a blunder!
From the "Revue des Deux Mondes."
A WRECK OF THE OLD FRENCH ARISTOCRACY.
AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL IN THE LIMOUSIN.
It is truly a great mistake to measure the interest of a journey by
its duration, and that of a country by its remoteness; and one is
deceived in supposing that it is necessary to go afar in quest of
adventures, and make a voyage two years long in order to see curious
sights. There is a certain author who has made "a journey around his
room" more fruitful in incidents of all descriptions than the
numberless voyages of an infinity of sailors that I know; and one may
make, thank heaven! many an interesting trip without passing beyond
the "neighboring shores" from which La Fontaine forbids us to wander.
The only thing is, that it is less easy to travel after this fashion
than the other, and that it requires a lengthened preparation.
In order to observe skilfully, one must be accustomed to look around
one. We scarcely become curious except after long habit, and, strange
to say, our curiosity seems to increase in proportion as we satisfy
it. When we know a great deal we desire to know still more, and it is
remarkable that those alone desire to see no sights who have never had
any sights to see. Moreover, it is necessary to have contemplated the
grandest spectacles of nature in order to understand and love her
least conspicuous wonders; for nature does not surrender herself to
the first comer. She is a chaste and severe divinity, who admits to
her intimacy those alone who have deserved it by long contemplations
and a constant worship: and I firmly believe that it is necessary to
have travelled round the world in order profitably and agreeably to
make the tour of one's garden. If many years of youth spent in
wandering by land and sea, can render me an authority in regard to
travels, then am I justified in declaring, that in none of my more
distant courses have I found more interest and pleasure than in the
little trip I am now about to narrate.
There were, then, four of us, all alike young, gay, active, clad in
shooting costume, going straight ahead, without fixed plan or
preconcerted itinerary, marching at hap-hazard in these desert
_landes_, respiring freely the pungent odor of the broom, roaming from
hill to hill without other rallying point than the top of a mountain
which pointed out the direction of the low lands. After four hours'
walk we discovered that this mountain was still very far distant, and
that the sun was sinking below the horizon. We had already left behind
us the wildest part of the department of the _Correze_. To woods of
pine and birch succeeded enormous chestnut-trees; the sterile heath
gave place to cultivated fields. Here and there some houses displayed
their straw- roofs, and some scattered laborers beheld us pass
by with gaping suspicion. To tell the truth, we had all of us a
tolerably gallows look. In this wretched country, where every one
lives on from day to day without quitting his little inclosure,
without even hearing an echo from afar, four bearded marauders like
ourselves, avoiding the beaten road, and marching rapidly across
stubble and thicket, presented no ordinary rencontre. All on a sudden
the clouds began to gather, and, by way of varying our sensations, a
terrific tempest burst over our heads. It was the first incident of
our journey. Drenched through in a moment by this diluvian rain, we
rushed, with the ardor of soldiers mounting a breach, towards a
village perched like a magpie's nest on the summit of the hill we were
ascending. A house of capacious size, but of dismal and ruinous
appearance, arose before us. We rushed in at a charging pace, and
found that it was deserted, except that near the hearth, where
smouldered the embers of the most miserable fire in the world, an
infant was deposited in, or rather tied to, his cradle, according to
the fashion of the country. By the aid of a stout bandage they had
swaddled him up like a mummy, and duly sealed him to the planks of the
little box, which served him for a bed. In addition, his head was
carefully turned toward the fire, so that his cranium was in a state
of continual ebullition, such being the appointed regimen of the
neighborhood. At the sight of our strange visages, the little one,
after staring at us for a moment or two, proceeded to utter the most
lamentable outcries. I rocked his cradle with the most paternal
solicitude, but could not succeed in quieting him. On the contrary,
his screams became positively heart-rending, and we were almost ready
to smother him outright in order to put a stop to his roaring. At this
summons a woman entered abruptly into the house, and stared at us with
an expression of alarm. It was incumbent on us to explain that we were
no pilferers, and this was no easy matter. The young mother evidently
looked on us with suspicion. She was not altogether a mere
peasant,--at least she wore, instead of the little straw hat trimmed
with black velvet, which is the ordinary head-dress of the
countrywomen, a bonnet, which in the Limousin is a certain indication
of pretensions to the rank of the _bourgeoise_. Her robe, besides,
however inelegant it might be, was nevertheless town-made.
These matters I noticed at a glance, whilst one of my companions gave
the needful explanations as to our pacific intentions. Our hostess
pretended to be satisfied. She removed the cradle, threw some shavings
into the fire to revive it, and sat herself down with a cold,
constrained manner, in which I could discover at once considerable
embarrassment, accompanied by a certain air of dignity. Never had I
seen a Limousin peasant take a seat in the presence of _gentlemen_,
and I speedily made another discovery which not a little perplexed me.
The fire as it revived had thrown a glow upon the hearthstone, which
was of cast-iron, and presented a large armorial escutcheon. This
display astonished me. I looked round again at the smoke-dried kitchen
in which we sat; it was a miserable place. The ceiling was falling
piecemeal; in the pavement, disjointed and worn, were three or four
muddy holes but rarely cleared out, the dampness of which was kept up
by the continual dripping of a dozen cream cheeses, suspended in a
long basket of osiers. Two beds, a large table, and a few dilapidated
chairs, composed the furniture of the apartment, which was pervaded by
a sour and offensive smell, apparently very attractive to a huge sow
whose grunting snout was ever and anon thrust into the entrance of the
doorway. Whence, then, this curious hearthstone? I looked more
attentively at the young woman, and discovered in her countenance a
certain air of distinction. I then inquired of her at what place we
were.
"Monsieur is jesting at me, doubtless," she pretty sharply replied.
I assured her I had no such intention, and was really ignorant of the
name of the village.
"It is not a village, sir," she resumed, "it is a town. You are at the
Puy d'Arnac, in the Canton of Beaulieu."
A native of Marseilles would hardly have named the _Canebiere_ with
greater satisfaction. I knew that the Puy d'Arnac gave its name to a
celebrated growth of the _Correze_, and I thought I understood the
lofty tone of the reply. All on a sudden, one of my companions, whom
we nicknamed the "Broker," because he groped into all sorts of places,
and, with amusing perseverance, hunted out objects of art and
curiosity even in hovels, touched my elbow, and asked me if I had
noticed the picture which was half-hidden under the serge curtains of
one of the beds. I had not yet observed it, and got up to look at it.
It was the portrait of a general officer of the time of Louis XV. The
frame, sculptured and gilt, struck me still more, being really
beautiful. "This is a discovery indeed," said my friend to me, while I
inquired of the young woman where such a portrait could have come
from.
"Where could it have come from, Monsieur?" she haughtily replied; "it
is the portrait of my grandfather."
"Aha!" we exclaimed, all four of us, turning ourselves round with
surprise. With one hand our hostess stirred the fire, with an
indifference evidently affected, while with the other she rocked the
little box in which her infant was asleep.
"Might I presume to inquire the name of Monsieur your grandfather?"
said I, drawing near to her.
"He was the Count of Anteroches," was her reply.
"What, the Count of Anteroches, who commanded the French guards at the
battle of Fontenoy?"[5]
"You have heard him spoken of, then?" resumed the peasant girl, with a
smile.
My friend the Broker stood as if stupefied before the picture. All of
a sudden he wheeled round, and, gravely removing his cap, repeated
with a theatrical air the celebrated saying of M. d'Anteroches,--"Fire
first, _Messieurs les Anglais_; we are Frenchmen, and must do you the
honors!"
This anecdote is, to my thinking, the most charming and most
thoroughly stamped with the image of the age of any recorded in
history. With regard to these celebrated sayings uttered in battles, I
must indeed confess that I am very skeptical. Little as I may be of a
soldier, I have a notion that it is not in an engagement as at the
Olympic Circus, and that in the midst of fire, smoke, and musketry,
generals must have other work on their hands than to utter these
pretty epigrams, which there is moreover no shorthand writer at hand
to take down. I know that Cambronne was annoyed when they recalled to
him his splendid exclamation at Waterloo, "_La garde meurt et ne se
rend pas!_" (The guard dies, and does not surrender!) "an invention
the more clumsy," said he, "that I am not yet dead, and that I really
did surrender." I have even discovered that this saying was invented
by a member of the Institute, for the greater satisfaction of the
readers of the "Yellow Dwarf," in which he wrote, in 1815, together
with Benjamin Constant and many other celebrated malcontents.[6] The
speeches of Leonidas find me equally incredulous. But, wheresoever
they may come from, I delight in these anecdotes, which personify an
entire epoch, and engrave it upon the memory with a single stroke. We
may defy the historian who seeks to characterize the end of the last
century and the beginning of the present, to find two epigrams more
striking than the words attributed to Anteroches and Cambronne--to two
French officers--one commanding the French guards, the other the old
guard; both fighting for their country, at an interval of seventy
years, with the same enemy, and on the same ground: for it is a
singular coincidence that Fontenoy and Waterloo are but little distant
from each other, and Heaven saw fit to ordain that the game of success
and reverse should be played out almost upon the same fields. "Fire
first, _Messieurs les Anglais_!" Is it not the type of that easy and
adorable, that ironical and _blase_ nobility, who pushed the contempt
of life even to insanity, and the worship of courtesy and honor even
to the sublime?--who endowed their country with such a renown for
elegance, high-breeding, and gallantry, that all its demagogic
saturnalia never have effaced it, and never will?--a nobility
reckless, if you please, but assuredly charming, and perfectly French
withal, who gayly passed through life without ever doing the morrow
the honor of thinking about it, and who, beholding one day the earth
give way beneath their feet, looked into the abyss without a wink,
without alarming themselves, without belying themselves, and went down
alive and whole into the gulf, disdaining all defence, "without fear,"
if not "without reproach."
Between the saying of Anteroches and that of Cambronne there is a
great gap; we find that the revolution has passed through it. The
gentleman, refined even to exaggeration, has disappeared, and we have
instead the rude language of democracy--"_La garde meurt et ne se rend
pas_"--this is heroism, no doubt, but heroism of another sort. Never
did the _chauvinism_ of this present time light upon a more cornelian
device, but do you not see in it the theatrical affectation, the
melo-dramatic emphasis of another race? That he had no fear of death,
and no idea of surrendering--this is what the gentleman of Fontenoy
had no intention of declaring; it ought to have been well known--his
followers had already given proof of it for ages past. To be brave
alone to him was nothing--he must be as elegant in battle as he was at
the ball. What signified death to that incomparable race who
afterwards composed madrigals in prison, and ascended the scaffold
with a smile, their step elastic, and their hand in the waistcoat
pocket, a cocked hat under their arm, and a rose-bud between their
lips? This epoch was personified in my eyes by the handsome and gentle
countenance of the Count of Anteroches. After more than a hundred
years I had discovered by chance, myself, an obscure wayfarer, in an
unknown and miserable cabin, where his grand-daughter was living in
the midst of her poultry, the portrait of this brilliant officer, to
whose name will ever attach an elegant and charming renown; for if,
like Cambronne, Anteroches did not really utter the words attributed
to him, they have still been lent to him, and if thus lent, assuredly
because there were grounds for it.
After these over-lengthy reflections, I turned toward the peasant
woman, who now inspired me with profound commiseration. She continued
to rock to and fro her bandaged infant, who was in very right and deed
the Count of Anteroches. I inquired what was the occupation of her
husband.
"He is dead," she replied; "I was better off during his lifetime. He
was a _gendarme_, Monsieur."
"A _gendarme_!" I repeated with surprise.
"Yes," replied Madame d'Anteroches, who understood not the cause of my
astonishment, "he had even passed as a brigadier during his latter
years: we managed our little affairs very comfortably."
He was a brigadier of gendarmerie--content to be so--he managed his
little affairs very comfortably--and his grandfather, as I find it in
the "Military Records of France," had been named Marshal on the 25th
of July, 1762; at the same time as the Marquis of Boufflers and the
Duke of Mazarine! Would not the rabble of Paris do well to inquire a
little before exclaiming so loudly against the privileges of the
aristocracy? Moreover, it seems to me that the government of France
should not allow the grandchildren of the Count of Anteroches to be
sunk--as they are--into deplorable indigence. Apocryphal or otherwise
the epigram of Fontenoy should at least be worth subsistence to all
who bear this name. Many enjoy pensions and are maintained by France,
who would find it very difficult to produce a similar claim, and the
new republic would act wisely by repairing, when occasion turns up,
the injustices of her eldest sister.
But it was now high time for us to leave. It was evident that we
embarrassed our hostess, and since we had discovered her name we were
no less embarrassed ourselves. I could not get over her coarse stuff
gown, her filthy kitchen, and her familiar sow. It would have been
cruel to ask for her hospitality, and how could we offer to pay our
score? Besides, we knew that a rich proprietor of our acquaintance
resided not far from Puy d'Arnac; we, therefore, took our leave of the
high-born peasant with many excuses and thanks. At the moment I passed
the threshold, I cast a parting glance upon the portrait. The fire
lighted it up at that instant with so singular a brilliancy that it
almost appeared animated. It seemed as if the countenance of M.
d'Anteroches was alive, and that the handsome officer looked sadly
down from the height of his gilded frame upon the utter misery of his
descendants. "Oh! decadence! decadence of France!" I exclaimed to
myself, and rushed bravely forth with my companions into the pelting
rain.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Fontenoy, we should here observe, is, we believe, the _only_
battle in which the English were defeated by the French, and it is, of
course, a subject of no little glorification with our neighbors.
[6] The well-known burst of the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, "Up,
guards, and at them!" has been declared, upon the best authority,
namely, his own, to be no less apocryphal than those above-mentioned.
From Fraser's Magazine
THE CLOISTER-LIFE OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V.
The 28th of September, 1556, was a great day in the annals of Laredo,
in Biscay. Once a commercial station of the Romans, and, in later
times, the naval arsenal whence St. Ferdinand sailed to the
Guadalquivir and the conquest of Seville, its haven is now so decayed
and sand-choked, that it can scarcely afford shelter to a
fishing-craft. Here, however, on the day in question, three centuries
ago, a fleet of seventy Flemish and Spanish sail cast anchor. From a
frigate bearing the imperial standard of the house of Austria came a
group of gentlemen and ladies, of whom the principal personage was a
spare and sallow man, past the middle age, and plainly attired in
mourning. He was received at the landing-place by the bishop of
Salamanca and some attendants, and being worn with suffering and
fatigue, he was carried up from the boat in a chair. By his side
walked two ladies, in widows' weeds, who appeared to be about the same
age as himself, and whose pale features, both in cast and expression,
strongly resembled his own. Since Columbus stepped ashore at Palos,
with his red men from the New World, Spain had seen no debarkation so
remarkable; for the voyagers were, the emperor Charles V. and his
sisters, Mary queen of Hungary, and Eleanor, queen of Portugal and
France, now on their way from Brussels, where they had made their last
appearance on the stage of the world, to those Spanish cloisters,
wherein they had resolved to await the hour when the curtain should
drop on life itself.
Charles himself appears to have been powerfully affected by the scene
and circumstances around him. Kneeling upon the long-desired soil of
Spain, he is said to have kissed the earth, ejaculating, "I salute
thee, O common mother! Naked came I forth of the womb to receive the
treasures of the earth, and naked am I about to return to the bosom of
the universal mother." He then drew from his bosom the crucifix which
he always wore, and kissing it devoutly, returned thanks to the
Saviour for having thus brought him in safety to the wished-for haven.
The ocean itself furnished its comment upon the irretraceable step
which he had taken. From Flushing to Laredo, the weather had been
calm, and the voyage prosperous: but the evening of the day of
landing closed with a storm, which shattered and dispersed the fleet,
and sunk the frigate which the emperor had quitted a few hours before.
This accident must have recalled to his recollection a similar escape
which he had made many years before on his coronation-day at Bologna.
There he had just passed through a wooden gallery which connected his
palace with the church where the pope and the crown awaited him, when
the props upon which the structure rested gave way, and it fell with a
sudden crash, killing several persons in the street below.
The emperor's first care, after landing, was to send a message to the
general of the order of St. Jerome, requiring his attendance at
Valladolid, and desiring that no time might be lost in preparing the
convent of Yuste for his reception. He himself set forward, as soon as
he was able, and was carried sometimes in a horse-litter, sometimes in
a chair on men's shoulders, by slow and painful stages to Burgos. Near
that ancient city he was met by the constable of Castille, Pedro
Fernandez de Velasco, who lodged him for some days in the noble palace
of his family, known as the Casa del Cordon, from a massive cord of
St. Francis, wrought in stone, with which the architect has adorned
and protected the great portal. The little town of Duenas was the next
resting-place, and there its lord, the count of Buendia, did the
honors of his feudal castle on the adjacent height rising abruptly
from the bare plains of the Arlanzon. At Torquemada, the royal party
was received by the bishop of the diocese, Pedro de Gasca, a divine,
whose skilful diplomacy, in repressing a formidable rebellion, had
saved Peru to Castille, and who had lately been rewarded by the
emperor with the mitre of Palencia. But in spite of these
demonstrations of respect and gratitude, Charles was made painfully
sensible of the change which his own act had wrought in his condition.
The barons and the great churchmen, who, a few months before, would
have flocked from all parts to do him honor, now appeared in very
scanty numbers, or they permitted him to pass unnoticed through the
lands and by the homes which they perhaps owed to his bounty. He and
his sister Eleanor must have remembered with a sigh the time when he
first set foot in Spain, thirty-eight years before, and found the
shores of Asturias, and the highways of Castille, thronged with loyal
crowds, hastening to tender their homage. In the forgetfulness of the
new generation, he may also have been reminded how he himself had
treated, with coldness and slighting, the great cardinal Ximenes, who
had worn out his declining years in defending and maintaining the
prerogatives of the catholic crown. His long and varied experience of
men made him incapable of deriving any pleasure from their applause,
but not altogether incapable of being pained by their neglect. His
pride was hurt at finding himself so quickly forgotten; and he is said
to have evinced a bitter sense of the surprise, by the remark, "I
might well say that I was naked!" It is probable, therefore, that he
declined the honors of a public entry into Valladolid, not merely from
a desire to shun the pomps and vanities of state, but also from a
secret apprehension that it might prove but a pitiful shadow of former
pageants. That the citizens might not be balked of their show, while
the emperor entered privately on the 23rd of October, it was agreed
that the two queens, his sisters, should make their appearance there
in a public manner the next day.
Valladolid was at that time the opulent and flourishing capital of
Spain, and the seat of government, carried on under the regency of the
emperor's daughter, Juanna. This young princess was the widow of the
prince of Brazil, heir-apparent of the crown of Portugal, and mother
of the unfortunate king Sebastian. She performed the duties of her
high place with great prudence, firmness, and moderation; but with
this peculiarity, that she appeared at her public receptions closely
veiled, allowing her face to be seen only for a moment, that the
foreign ambassadors might be satisfied of her personal identity. With
her nephew, Don Carlos, then a boy of ten years old, by her side, the
Infanta met her father on the staircase of the palace of the Count of
Melito, which he had chosen for his place of sojourn. The day
following, the arrival of the two queens was celebrated by a grand
procession, and by an evening banquet and ball in the royal palace, at
which the emperor appears to have been present. Some few of the
grandees, the Admiral and the Constable of Castille, Benavente,
Astorga, Sesa, and others, were there to do honor to their ancient
lord, whose hand was also kissed in due form by the members of the
council of Castille. At this ball, or perhaps at some later festivity,
Charles caused the wives of all his personal attendants to be
assembled around him, and bade each, in particular, farewell. Perico
de Sant Erbas, a famous jester of the court, passing by at the moment,
the emperor good-humoredly saluted him by taking off his hat. "What!
do you uncover to me?" said the bitter fool; "does it mean that you
are no longer emperor?" "No, Pedro," replied the object of the jest;
"it means that I have nothing to give you beyond this courtesy."
During his stay of ten days, Charles bestowed but a passing glance on
the machine of government over which he had so long presided, and
which was now directed by his demure daughter. The secretary of the
council, Juan Vazquez de Molina, an old and trusted servant of his
own, was the only public man with whom he held any confidential
converse. The new rooms which he had caused to be erected at Yuste,
and the ordering of his life there, were now of more moment to him
than the movements of the leaguers in Flanders, or the state of
opinion in Germany. He therefore gave frequent audiences to Francisco
de Tofino, the general of the Jeromites, and to Fray Martin de Angulo,
prior of Yuste. Having resolved that his solitude should be shared by
his natural son, Don Juan of Austria, a nameless lad of ten, then
living in the family of his mayordomo, Luis de Quixada, he despatched
that trusty follower to remove his household from Castille to
Estremadura.
It was at Valladolid that Charles saw for the first and last time the
ill-fated child who bore his name, and had the prospect one day of
wearing some of his crowns. Although only ten years old, Don Carlos
had already shown symptoms of the mental malady which darkened the
long life of queen Juana, his great-grandmother by the side both of
his father, Philip of Spain, and of his mother, Mary of Portugal. Of a
sullen and passionate temper, he lived in a state of perpetual
rebellion against his aunt, and displayed in the nursery the weakly
mischievous spirit which marked his short career at his father's
court. His grandfather appears not to have suspected that his mind was
diseased, but to have regarded him as a forward and untractable child,
whose future interests would be best served by an unsparing use of the
rod. He therefore recommended increased severity of discipline, and
remarked to his sisters, that he had observed with concern the boy's
unpromising conduct and manners, and that it was very doubtful how the
man would turn out. This opinion was conveyed by queen Eleanor to
Philip II., who had requested his aunt to note carefully the
impression left by his son on the emperor's mind; and it is said to
have laid the foundation for the aversion which the king entertained
towards Carlos. Following the advice of her father, the Infanta soon
after ordered the removal of the prince to Burgos; but the plague
breaking out in that city, he was sent, by an ominous chance, to
Tordesillas, to the palace from whose windows the unhappy Juana, dead
to the living world, had gazed for forty-seven years at the sepulchre
of her fair and faithless lord.
A sojourn of about ten days at Valladolid sufficed the emperor for
rest, and for the preparations for his journey. His daughter was
occupied with the duties of administration; and of his sisters he
appears to have seen enough on the way from Flanders. Whether it was
that he was weary of these royal matrons, or that he regarded their
society as a worldly enjoyment which he ought to forego, he declined
their proposal to come and reside near his retreat, at Plasencia.
After much debate, they finally chose Guadalaxara as their residence,
where they quarelled with the duke of Infantado for refusing them his
palace, and went to open war with the alcalde for imprisoning one of
their serving-men.
Early in November,[7] their brother set out on his last earthly
journey. The distance from Valladolid to Yuste was between forty and
fifty leagues, or somewhere between 130 and 150 English miles. The
route taken has not been specified by the emperor's biographers. The
best and the easiest road lay through Salamanca and Plasencia. But as
he does not appear to have passed through the latter city, he probably
likewise avoided the former, and the pageants and orations with which
the doctors of the great university would have delighted to celebrate
his visit. In that case, he must have taken the road by Medina del
Campo and Penaranda. At Medina he doubtless was lodged in the fine old
palace of the crown, called the Torre de Mota, where, fifty years
before, his grandmother, Isabella the Catholic, ended her noble life
and glorious reign; and at Penaranda he was probably entertained in
the mansion of the Bracamontes. These two towns rise like islands in
their naked undulating plains, covered partly with corn, partly with
marshy heath. Southward, the country is clothed with straggling woods
of evergreen oak, becoming denser at the base and on the lower <DW72>s
of the wild Sierra of Bejar, the centre of that mountain chain which
forms the backbone of the Peninsula, extending from Moncayo in Aragon,
to the Rock of Lisbon on the Atlantic. At the alpine town of Bejar,
cresting a bold height, and overhanging a tumbling stream, the great
family of the Zunigas, created dukes of the place by Isabella, and
known to fame in arts and arms and the dedication of Don Quixote,
possess a noble castle, ruined by the French, which there can be
little doubt served as a halting-place for the imperial pilgrim. He
advanced by very short stages, travelling in a litter, and often
suffering great pain. But his spirits rose as he neared the desired
haven. In the craggy gorge of Puertonuevo, as he was being carried
over some unusually difficult ground in a chair, his attendants were
deploring the extreme ruggedness of the pass. "I shall never have to
go through another," said he, "and truly it is worth enduring some
pain to reach so sweet and healthy a resting place as Yuste." Having
crossed the mountains without mischance, he arrived on the eleventh of
November, St. Martin's day, at Xarandilla, a little village at the
foot of the steep Penanegra, and then, as now, chiefly peopled with
swineherds, whose pigs, feeding in the surrounding forests, maintain
the fame of porciferous Estremadura. Here he took up his abode in the
castle of the count of Oropesa, head of a powerful branch of the great
house of Toledo, and feudal lord of Xarandilla.
This visit, which was intended to be brief, was prolonged for nearly
three months. Before entering the cloister of Yuste, the emperor
wished to pay off the greater part of his retinue. But for this
purpose money was needful, and money was the one thing always wanting
in the affairs of Spain. The delay which took place in providing it on
this occasion has often been cited as an instance of the ingratitude
of Philip II.; but it is probable that a bare exchequer and a clumsy
system of finance, which crippled his actions as a king, have also
blackened his character as a son.
The emperor endured the annoyance with his usual coolness. On his
arrival at the castle, he was waited on by the prior of Yuste, with
whom he had already become acquainted at Valladolid. He afterwards
repaid the attention by making a forenoon excursion to Yuste, and
inspecting more carefully the spot which his memory and his hope had
so long pictured as the sweetest nook in a world of disappointment.
This visit took place on the 23d of November, St. Catharine's day. On
alighting at the convent, Charles immediately repaired to the church,
and prayed there awhile; after which, he was conducted over the
monastic buildings, and then over the new apartments which had been
erected for his reception. The plan of this addition had been made by
the architect, Gaspar de Vega, from a sketch, it is said, drawn by the
emperor's own hand. He now expressed himself as quite satisfied with
the accuracy with which his ideas had been wrought out, and returned
through the wintry woods in high good humor.
The arrival at Xarandilla of Luis Quixada, with Don Juan of Austria,
was another of those little incidents which had become great events in
the life of Charles. As he did not choose during his life to
acknowledge the youth as his son, the future hero of Lepanto passed
for the page of Quixada, and was presented to his father as bearer of
an offering from Dona Magdalena de Ulloa. He was then in his twelfth
year, and was remarkable for his personal beauty and his engaging
manners. These so captivated Charles, that he ever afterwards liked to
have the boy about him; and it was one of the few solaces of his
solitude to note the princely promise of this unknown son of his old
age.
At length, the tardy treasury messenger arrived, bearing a bag of
thirty thousand ducats for the former possessor of Mexico and Peru.
The emperor was now enabled to pay their wages to the servants whom he
was about to discharge. Some of these he recommended to the notice of
the king or the princess-regent; to others he dispensed sparing
gratuities in money; and so he closed his accounts with the world.
On the afternoon of the third of February, 1557, being the feast of
St. Blas, he was lifted into his litter for the last time, and was
borne westward along the rough mountain track, beneath the leafless
oaks, to the monastery of Yuste. He was accompanied by the count of
Oropesa, Don Fernando de Toledo, and his own personal suite, including
the followers whom he had just discharged, but who evinced their
respect by attending him to his journey's close. The cavalcade reached
Yuste about five in the evening. Prior Angulo was waiting to receive
his imperial guest at the gate. On alighting, the emperor, being
unable to walk, was placed in a chair, and carried to the door of the
church. At the threshold he was met by the whole brotherhood in
procession, chanting the _Te Deum_ to the music of the organ. The
altars and the aisle were brilliantly lighted up with tapers, and
decked with their richest frontals, hangings, and plate. Borne through
the pomp to the steps of the high altar, Charles knelt down and
returned thanks to God for the happy termination of his journey, and
joined in the vesper service of the brotherhood. When that was ended,
the friars came to be presented to him one by one, each kissing his
hand and receiving his fraternal embrace. During this ceremony, his
departing servants stood round, expressing their emotion by tears and
lamentations, which were still heard late in the evening, around the
gate of the convent. Attended by the count of Oropesa and the
gentlemen of his suite, Charles then retired to take possession of his
new home, and to enter upon that life of prayer and repose for which
he had so long sighed.
The monastery of Yuste stands on the lower <DW72>s of the lofty
mountain chain which walls towards the north the beautiful Vera, or
valley of Plasencia. The city of Plasencia is seated seven leagues to
the westward in the plains below; the village of Quacos lies about an
English mile to the south, towards the foot of the mountain. The
monastery owes its name to a streamlet which descends from the sierra,
and its origin to the piety of one Sancho Martin of Quacos, who
granted in 1402 a piece of land to two hermits from Plasencia. Here
these holy men built their cells and planted an orchard, and obtained,
in 1408, by the favor of the Infanta Don Fernando, a bull for the
foundation of a Jeromite house in the rule of St. Augustine. In spite,
however, of this authority, while the works were still in progress,
the friars of a neighboring convent, armed with an order from the
bishop of Plasencia, set upon them and dispossessed them of their land
and unfinished walls, an act of violence against which they appealed
to the archbishop of Santiago. The judgment of the primate being given
in their favor, they next applied for aid to their neighbor, Garci
Alvarez de Toledo, lord of Oropesa, who accordingly came forth from
his castle of Xarandilla, and drove out the intruders. Nor was it only
with the strong hand that this noble protected the young community;
for at the chapter of St. Jerome held at Guadalupe in 1415, their
house would not have been received into the order but for his
generosity in guaranteeing a revenue sufficient for the maintenance of
a prior and twelve brethren under a rule in which mendicancy was
forbidden. The buildings were also erected at his cost, and his
subsequent benefactions were large and frequent. He was therefore
constituted by the grateful monks protector of the convent, and the
distinction became hereditary in his descendants, the counts of
Oropesa.
Their early struggles past, the Jeromites of Yuste grew and prospered.
Gifts and bequests were the chief events in their peaceful annals.
They became patrons of the chapelries and hermitages; they made them
orchards and olive-groves, and their corn and wine increased. Their
hostel, dispensary, and other offices, were patterns of monastic
comfort and order; and in due time, they built a new church, a simple,
solid, and spacious structure, in the pointed style. A few years
before the emperor came to live amongst them, they had added to their
small antique cloister a new quadrangle of stately proportions and
elegant classical design.
Though more remarkable for the natural beauty around its walls than
for the vigor of the spiritual life within, Yuste did not fail to
boast of its worthies. The prior Jerome, a son of the great house of
Zuniga, was cited as a model of austere and active holiness. The lay
brother, Melchor de Yepes, crippled in felling a huge chesnut-tree in
the forest, was a pattern of bed-ridden patience and piety. Fray
Hernando de Corral was the scholar and book collector of the house;
although he was also, for that reason, perhaps, considered as scarcely
of a sound mind. He left many copious notes in the fly-leaves of his
black-letter folios. Fray Juan de Xeres, an old soldier of the great
Captain, was distinguished by the gift of second-sight, and was nursed
on his death-bed by the eleven thousand virgins. Still more favored
was Fray Rodrigo de Caceres, for the Blessed Mary herself, in answer
to his repeated prayers, came down in visible shape, and received his
spirit on the eve of the feast of her Assumption. And prior Diego de
San Geronimo was so popular in the Vera as a preacher, that when he
grew old and infirm, the people of Garganta la Olla endeavored to lure
him to their pulpit by making a road, which was called that of Fray
Diego.
In works of charity--that redeeming virtue of the monastic system--the
fathers of Yuste were diligent and bounteous. Six hundred fanegas, or
about one hundred and twenty quarters of wheat, in ordinary years, and
in years of scarcity, as much as fifteen hundred fanegas, were
distributed at the convent-gate; large donations of bread, meat, and
oil, and some money, were made, either publicly or in private, by the
prior, at Easter and other festivals; and the sick poor in the village
of Quacos were freely supplied with food, medicine, and advice.
The lodging, or palace, as the friars loved to call it, of the
emperor, was constructed under the eye of Fray Antonio de Villacastin,
a brother of the house, and afterwards well known to fame as the
master of the works at the Escorial. The site of it had been inspected
in May, 1554, by Philip II., then on his way to England to marry queen
Mary Tudor. Backed by the massive south wall of the church, the
building presented its simple front of two stories to the garden and
the noontide sun. Each story contained four chambers, two on either
side of a corridor, which traverses the structure from east to west,
and leads at either end into a broad porch, or covered gallery,
supported on pillars, and open to the air. All the rooms were
furnished with ample fire-places, in accordance with the Flemish wants
and ways of the inhabitants. The chambers which look on the garden are
bright and pleasant, but those on the north side are gloomy, and even
dark, the light being admitted only by windows opening on the
corridor, or on the external and deeply-shadowed porches. Charles
inhabited the upper rooms, and slept in that at the north-east corner,
from which a door or window had been cut through the church wall,
within the chancel, and close to the high altar. From the eastern
porch, or gallery, an inclined path led down into the garden, to save
him the fatigue of going up and down stairs. His attendants were, for
the most part, lodged in apartments built for them near the new
cloister; and the hostel of the convent was given up to the physician,
the bakers, and the brewers. His private rooms being surrounded on
three sides by the garden, he took exclusive possession of that, and
put it under the care of gardeners of his own. The friars established
their potherbs in a piece of ground to the eastward, behind some tall
elm trees, and adjoining the emperor's domain, but separated from it
by a high wall, which they caused to be built when they found that he
wished for complete seclusion.
Time, with its chances and changes, has dealt rudely with this fair
home of the monarch and the monk. Yuste was sacked in 1809 by the
French invader; and in later years, the Spanish reformer has
annihilated the race of picturesque drones, who, for a while,
re-occupied, and might have repaired the ruins of their pleasant hive.
Of the two cloisters, the greater is choked with the rubbish of its
fallen upper story, its richly-carved capitals peeping here and there
from the soil and wild shrubs. Two sides of the smaller and older
cloister still stands, with tottering blackened walls, and rotting
floors and ceilings. The strong, granite-vaulted church is a hollow
shell; the fine wood-work of its stalls has been partly used for fuel,
partly carried off to the parish church of Quacos; and the beautiful
blue and yellow tiles which lined the chancel are fast dropping from
the walls. In the emperor's dwelling, the lower chambers are turned
into a magazine of firewood, and in the rooms above, where he lived
and died, maize and olives are garnered, and the silkworm winds its
cocoon in dust and darkness. But the lovely face of nature, the hill,
the forest, and the field, the generous soil and the genial sky,
remain with charms unchanged, to testify how well the imperial eagle
chose the nest wherein to fold his wearied wings. From the balcony of
Charles's cabinet the eye ranges over a foreground of rounded knolls,
clad in walnut and chestnut, in which the mountain dies gently away
into the broad bosom of the Vera. Not a building is in sight, but a
summer-house, peering above mulberry tops, at the lower side of the
garden, and a hermitage of Our Lady of Solitude, about a mile distant,
hung upon a rocky height, that swells like an isle out of the sea of
forest. Immediately below the windows the garden <DW72>s gently to the
sun, shaded here and there with the massive foliage of the fig, or
feathery almond boughs, and breathing perfume from tall orange-trees,
cuttings of which some monks, themselves transplanted, vainly strove
to keep alive at the bleak Escorial. And beyond the west wall, filling
all the wide space in front of the gates of the convent and the
palace, rises the noble shade of the great walnut-tree, _el nogal
grande_, of Yuste--a forest king, which has seen the hermit's cell
rise into a royal convent, and sink into a ruin; which has seen the
beginning and the end of the Spanish order of Jerome, and the Spanish
dynasty of Austria.
At Xarandilla, Charles had cast aside the last shreds of the purple.
The annual revenue which he had reserved to himself out of the wealth
of half the world, was twelve thousand ducats, or about fifteen
hundred pounds sterling. His confidential attendants were eleven in
number: Luis Quixada, chamberlain and chief of the household; Martin
Gatzelu, secretary; William Van Male, gentleman of the chamber; Moron,
gentleman of the chamber and almoner; Juan Gaytan, steward; Henrique
Matisio Charles Pubest, usher; and two valets. Juanelo Turiano, an
Italian engineer, who had acquired a considerable reputation by his
hydraulic works to supply water to the Alcazar of Toledo, was engaged
to assist in the philosophical experiments and mechanical labors which
formed the emperor's principal amusement. Last, but not least, a
Jeromite father from Sta. Engracia, at Zaragoza, Fray Juan de Regla,
filled the important post of confessor. The lower rank of servants,
cooks, brewers, bakers, grooms, and scullions, and a couple of
laundresses, swelled the total number of his household to about sixty
persons, an establishment not greater than was then maintained by many
a private hidalgo.
The mayordomo, Luis Quixada, or, to give him his entire appellation,
Luis Mendez Quixada Manuel de Figueredo y Mendoza, is worthy of
notice, not only as first minister of this tiny court, but as being
closely associated with one of the greatest names in the military
history of Europe. A courtier and soldier from his early youth, he was
heir of an elder brother, slain before Tunis, who had been one of the
most distinguished captains of the famous infantry of Castille; and he
had been himself for many years the tried companion-in-arms and the
trusted personal friend of the emperor. In 1549, he married Dona
Magdalena de Ulloa, a lady of ancient race and gentlest nature, with
whom he retired for a while to his patrimonial lordship of
Villagarcia, near Valladolid.
On his quitting the court at Brussels, Charles confided to his care
his illegitimate son, Don Juan of Austria, then a boy of four years
old, exacting a promise of strict secrecy as to his parentage. The boy
was accordingly brought up with the tenderest care by the childless
Magdalena: and the secret of his birth so well kept, that she, for
many years, suspected him to be the fruit of some early attachment of
her lord. When the emperor retired to Yuste, Quixada followed him
thither, removing his household from Villagarcia, and establishing it
in the neighborhood of the convent, probably in the village of Quacos.
He was thus enabled to enjoy somewhat of the society of his wife, and
the emperor had the gratification of seeing his son when he chose. Don
Juan was now a fine lad, in his eleventh year. He passed amongst the
neighbors for Quixada's page, and remained under the guardianship of
Dona Magdalena, whose efforts to imbue him with devotion towards the
Blessed Virgin are supposed by his historians to have borne good fruit
in the banners, embroidered with Our Lady's image, which floated from
his galleys at Lepanto. He likewise exercised in the Yuste forest the
cross-bow, which had dealt destruction amongst the sparrows of
Leganes, his early home in Castille.
If the number of servants in the train of Charles should savor, in
this age, somewhat of unnecessary parade, the ascetic character of the
recluse will be redeemed by a glance at the interior of his dwelling.
"The palace of Yuste, when prepared for his reception, seemed," says
the historian Sandoval, "rather to have been newly pillaged by the
enemy, than furnished for a great prince." Accustomed from his infancy
to the finest tapestry designed by Italian pencils for the looms of
Flanders, he now lived within walls entirety bare, except in his
bedchamber, which was hung with coarse brown or black cloth. The sole
appliances for rest to be found in his apartments were a bed and an
old arm-chair, not worth four reals. Four silver trenchers of the
plainest kind, for the use of his table, were the only things amongst
his goods and chattels which could tempt a thief to break through and
steal. A few choice pictures alone remained with him, as memorials of
the magnificence which he had foregone, and of the arts which he had
so loved. Over the high altar of the convent church, and within sight
of his bed, he is said to have placed that celebrated composition
known as The Glory of Titian, a picture of the Last Judgment, in which
Charles, his beautiful empress, and their royal children, were
represented, in the great painter's noblest style, as entering the
heavenly mansions of life eternal. He had also brought with him a
portrait of the empress, and a picture of Our Lord's Agony in the
Garden, likewise from the easel of Titian; and there is now at the
Escorial a masterpiece by the same hand--St. Jerome praying in his
garden, which is traditionally reputed to have hung in his oratory at
Yuste.
From the garden beneath the palace windows the emperor's table was
supplied with fruit and vegetables: and a couple of cows, grazing in
the forest, furnished him with milk. A pony and an old mule composed
the entire stud of the prince, who formerly took peculiar pleasure in
possessing the stoutest chargers of Guelderland, and the fleetest
genets of Cordova.
To atone, perhaps, for such deficiency of creature comforts, the
general of the Jeromites and the prior of Yuste had been at some pains
to provide their guest with spiritual luxuries. Knowing his passionate
love of music, they had recruited the force of their choir with
fourteen or fifteen brethren, distinguished for their fine voices and
musical skill. And for his sole benefit and delectation, they had
provided no less than three preachers, the most eloquent in the
Spanish fold of Jerome. The first of these, Fray Juan de Acaloras,
harangued his way to the bishopric of the Canaries; the second, Fray
Francisco de Villalva, also obtained by his sermons great fame, and
the post of chaplain to Philip II.; while the third, Fray Juan de
Santandres, though less noted as an orator, was had in reverence as a
prophet, having foretold the exact day and hour of his own death.
A short time sufficed for the emperor to accustom himself to the
simple and changeless tenor of monastic life. Every morning his
confessor appeared at his bed-side, to inquire how he had passed the
night, and to assist him in his private devotions. At ten he rose, and
was dressed by his valets; after which he heard mass in the convent
church. According to his invariable habit, which in Italy was said to
have given rise to the saying, _dalla messa, alla mensa_ (from mass to
mess), he went from church to dinner, about noon. Eating had ever been
one of his favorite pleasures, and it was now the only physical
gratification which he could still enjoy, or was unable to resist. He
continued, therefore, to dine upon the rich dishes against which his
ancient and trusty confessor, Cardinal Loaysa, had vainly protested a
quarter of a century before. Eel-pasties, anchovies, and frogs were
the savory food which he loved, unwisely and too well, as Frederick
afterwards loved his polenta. The meal was long, for his teeth were
few and far between; and his hands, also, were much disabled by gout,
in spite of which he always chose to carve for himself. His physician
attended him at table, and at least learned the cause of the mischiefs
which his art was to counteract. While he dined, he conversed with the
doctor on matters of science, generally of natural history, and if any
difference of opinion arose between them, the confessor was sent for
to settle the point out of Pliny. When the cloth was drawn, Fray Juan
de Regla came to read to him, generally from one of his favorite
divines,--Augustine, Jerome, or Bernard; an exercise which was
followed by conversation and an hour of slumber. At three o'clock, the
monks were assembled in the convent to hear a sermon delivered by one
of the imperial preachers, or a passage read from the Bible, usually
from the epistle to the Romans, the emperor's favorite book. To these
discourses or readings Charles always listened with profound
attention; and if sickness or letter-writing prevented his attendance,
he never failed to send a formal excuse to the prior, and to require
from his confessor an account of what had been preached or read. The
rest of the afternoon he sometimes whiled away in the workshop of
Turriano, and in the construction of pieces of mechanism, especially
clocks, of which more than a hundred were said, in one rather
improbable account, to tick in the emperor's apartments, and reckon to
a fraction the hours of his retired leisure. Sometimes he fed his pet
birds, which appear to have taken the place of the stately wolf-hounds
that followed at his heel in the days when he sat to Titian; or a
stroll amongst his fruit-trees and flowers filled up the time to
vespers and supper. At the lower end of the garden, approached by a
closely shaded path, there may still be seen the ruins of a little
summer-house, closely enbowered, and looking out upon the woodlands of
the Vera. Beyond this limit the emperor rarely extended his
excursions, which were always made, slowly and painfully, on foot; for
the first time that he mounted his pony he was seized with a violent
giddiness, and almost fell into the arms of his attendants. Such was
the last appearance, in the saddle, of the accomplished cavalier, of
whom his troopers used to say, that had he not been born a king, he
would have been the prince of light-horsemen, and whose seat and hand
excited at Calais gate the admiration of the English knights fresh
from the tournays--
"Where England vied with France in pride
On the famous field of gold."
Music, which had been one of the chief pleasures of his secular life,
continued to solace and cheer him to the last. In the conduct of the
organ and the choir he took the greatest interest, and through the
window which opened from his bedchamber upon the high altar, his voice
might often be heard accompanying the chant of the friars. His ear
never failed to detect a wrong note, and the mouth whence it came; and
he would frequently mutter the name of the offender, with the addition
of "_hideputa bermejo_," or some other epithet which savored rather of
the soldier than the saint. Guerrero, a chapel-master of Seville,
having presented him with his book of masses and motets, he caused one
of the former to be performed before him. When it was ended, he
remarked to his confessor that Guerrero was a cunning thief; and going
over the piece, he pointed out the plagiarisms with which it
abounded, and named the composers whose works had suffered pillage.
In laying down the sceptre, Charles had resolved to have no farther
personal concern with temporal affairs. The petitioners, who at first
besieged his retreat, soon ceased from troubling when they found
themselves referred to the princess-regent at Valladolid, or to the
king in Flanders. He declined giving any attention to matters beyond
the walls of the convent, unless they concerned the interests of his
children or the church. His advice was, however, frequently asked by
his son and daughter, and couriers often went and came between Yuste
and the courts. But with the patronage of the state he never
interfered, except on two occasions, when he recommended the case of a
Catalonian lady to the favorable consideration of the Infanta, and
asked for an order of knighthood for a veteran brother in arms.
The rites of religion now formed the business of his life, and he
transacted that business with his usual method and regularity. No
enthusiast novice was ever more solicitous to fulfil to the letter
every law of his rubric. On the first Sunday of his residence at the
convent, as he went to high mass, he observed the friar who was
sprinkling the holy water, hesitate when his turn came to be aspersed.
Taking the hyssop, therefore, from his hand, he bestowed a plentiful
shower upon his own face and clothes, saying as he returned the
instrument, "This, father, is the way you must do it, next time."
Another friar, offering the pyx to his lips in a similar diffident
manner, he took it between his hands, and not only kissed it
fervently, but applied it to his forehead and eyes with true oriental
reverence. Although provided with an indulgence for eating before
communion, he never availed himself of it but when he was suffering
from extreme debility; and he always heard two masses on the days when
he received the eucharist. On Ash Wednesday, he required his entire
household, down to the meanest scullion, to communicate, and on these
occasions he stood on the top step of the altar, to observe that the
muster was complete. For the benefit of his Flemings, he had a
chaplain of their country, who lived at Xarandilla, and came over at
stated times, when his flock were assembled for confession. The
emperor himself usually heard mass from the window of his bedchamber,
which looked into the church; but at complines he went up into the
choir with the fathers, and prayed in a devout and audible tone, in
his tribune. During the season of Lent, which came round twice during
his residence at Yuste, he regularly appeared in his place in the
choir, on Fridays, when it was the custom of the fraternity to perform
their discipline in public; and at the end of the appointed prayers,
extinguishing the taper which he, like the rest, held in his hand, he
flogged himself with such sincerity of purpose, that the scourge was
stained with blood, and the beholders singularly edified. On Good
Friday, he went forth at the head of his household, to adore the holy
cross; and although he was so infirm that he was obliged to be almost
carried by the men on whom he leaned, he insisted upon prostrating
himself three times upon the ground, in the manner of the friars,
before he approached the blessed symbol with his lips. The feast of
St. Matthew, his birthday--a day of great things in his life,--he
always celebrated with peculiar devotion. He appeared at mass, in a
dress of ceremony, and wearing the collar of the Fleece; and at the
time of the offertory, he went forward, and expressed his gratitude to
God by a large donation. The church was thronged with strangers; and
the crowd who could not gain admittance was so great, that one sermon
was preached outside, whilst another was being pronounced before the
emperor and his household within.
With the friars, his hosts, Charles lived on the most familiar and
friendly footing. When the visitors of the order paid their triennial
visit of inspection to Yuste, they represented to him, with all
respect, that his majesty himself was the only inmate of the convent
with whom they had any fault to find; and they entreated him to
discontinue those benefactions which he was in the habit of bestowing
on the fraternity, and which the rule of St. Jerome did not allow his
children to receive. He knew all the fathers by name and by sight, and
frequently conversed with them, as well as with the prior. One of his
favorites was a lay-brother, called Alonso Mudarra, once a man of rank
and family in the world, and now working out his own salvation in the
humble post of cook to the convent. This worthy had an only daughter,
who did not share her father's contempt for mundane things. When she
came with her husband to visit him at Yuste, Fray Alonso, arrayed in
his dirtiest apron, thus addressed her: "Daughter, behold my gala
apparel; obedience is now my treasure and my pride; for you, in your
silks and vanities, I entertain profound pity." So saying, he returned
to his kitchen, and would never see her more: an effort of holiness to
which he appears to owe his place in the chronicles of the order.
The emperor was conversing one day with his confessor, Regla, when
that priest chose to speak, in the mitre-shunning cant of his cloth,
of the great reluctance which he had felt in accepting a post of such
weighty responsibility. "Never fear," said Charles, somewhat
maliciously, and as if conscious that he was dealing with a hypocrite;
"before I left Flanders, four doctors were engaged for a whole year in
easing my conscience; so you have nothing to answer for but what
happens here."
When he had completed a year of residence at the convent, some
good-humored bantering passed between him and the master of the
novices about its being now time for him to make profession; and he
afterwards said that he was prevented from taking the vows of the
order, and becoming a monk in earnest, only by the state of his
health. St. Blas's day, 1558, the anniversary of his arrival, was held
as a festival, and celebrated by masses, the _Te Deum_, a precession
by the fathers, and a sermon by Villalva. In the afternoon, the
emperor gave a sumptuous repast to the whole convent, out in the
fields, it being the custom of the fraternity to celebrate any
accession to their number by a pic-nic. The country people about
Plasencia sent a quantity of partridges and kids to aid the feast,
which was likewise enlivened by the presence of the Flemish servants,
male and female, and his other retainers, from the village of Quacos.
The prior provided a more permanent memorial of the day by opening a
new book for the names of brethren admitted into the convent, on the
first leaf of which the emperor inscribed his name--an autograph which
remained the pride of the archives till their destruction by the
dragoons of Buonaparte.
The retired emperor had not many visitors in his solitude; and of
these few, Juan de Vega, president of the council of Castille,
was the only personage in high office. He was sent down by the
princess-regent, apparently to see that her father was treated with
due attention by the provincial authorities. But with his neighbors,
great and small, Charles lived in a state of amity which it would have
been well for the world had he been able to maintain with his
fellow-potentates of Christendom. The few nobles and gentry of the
Vera were graciously received when they came to pay their respects at
Yuste. Oropesa and his brothers frequently rode forth from Xarandilla,
to inquire after the health of their former guest. From Plasencia came
a still more distinguished and no less welcome guest, Luis de Avila,
comendador-mayor of Alcantara. Long the _fidus Achates_ of the
emperor, this soldier-courtier had obtained considerable fame by
becoming his Quintus Curtius. His Commentaries on the Wars against the
Protestants of Germany, first published in 1546, had been several
times reprinted, and had already been translated into Latin, French,
Flemish, English, and Italian. Having married the wealthy heiress of
the Zunigas, he was now living in laurelled ease at Plasencia, in that
fine palace of Mirabel, which is still one of the chief ornaments of
the beautiful city. The memoirs of the campaigns in Africa, which he
is said to have left in manuscript, were perhaps the occupation of his
leisure. Charles always received his historian with kindness, and it
is characteristic of the times, that it was noted as a mark of
singular favor, that he ordered a capon to be reserved for him from
his own well-supplied board. It may seem strange that a retired
prince, who had never been a lover of parade, should not have broken
through the ceremonial law which condemned a monarch to eat alone. But
we must remember that he was a Spaniard living amongst Spaniards; and
that, near a century later, the force of forms was still so strong,
that the great minister of France, when most wanting in ships,
preferred that the Spanish fleet should retire from the blockade of
Rochelle rather than that the admiral should wear his grandee hat in
the Most Christian presence.
The emperor was fond of talking over his feats of arms with the
veteran who had shared and recorded them. One day, in the course of
such conversation, Don Luis said he had caused a ceiling of his house
to be painted in fresco, with a view of the battle of Renti, and the
Frenchmen flying before the soldiers of Castille. "Not so," said
Charles; "let the painter modify this if he can; for it was no
headlong flight, but an honorable retreat." This was not the less
candid, that French historians claim the victory for their own side.
Considering that the action had been fought only three or four years
before it was said to have been painted, it is possible that Renti has
been substituted for the name of some other less doubtful field. But
Luis de Avila was of easy faith when the honor of Castille was
concerned, and may well be supposed capable of setting down a success
to the wrong account, when he did not hesitate to record it in his
book, that the miracle of Ajalon had been repeated at Muhlberg. Some
years afterwards, the duke of Alva, who had been in that battle, was
asked by the French king whether he had observed that the sun stood
still. "I was so busy that day," said the old soldier, "with what was
passing on earth, that I had no time to notice what took place in
heaven."
An anecdote of Avila and his master, though not falling within the
period of their retirement to Estremadura, may be related here, as
serving to show the characters of the two men. Some years before his
abdication, Charles had amused the leisure of his sick-room by making
a prose translation of Olivier de la Marches' forgotten allegorical
poem, _Le Chevalier delibere_. He then employed Fernando de Acunha, a
man of letters attached to the Saxon court, to turn his labors into
Castillian verse, and he finally handed it over to William Van Male,
one of the gentlemen of the chamber, telling him that he might publish
it for his own benefit. Avila and the other Spaniards, hearing of the
concession, wickedly affected the greatest envy at the good fortune of
the Fleming; the historian, in particular, in his quality of author,
assuring the emperor that the publication could not fail to realize a
profit of five hundred crowns. That desire to print, which, more or
less developed, exists in every man who writes, being thus stimulated
by the suggestion, that to gratify that desire, would be to confer a
favor which should cost him nothing, Charles became impatient to see
his lucubrations in type. Insisting that his bounty should be accepted
at once, he turned a deaf ear to the timid hints of Van Male, as to
the risk and expense of the speculation; and the end was, that the
poor man had to pay Jean Steels for printing and publishing two
thousand copies of a book which is now scarce, probably because the
greater part of the impression passed at once from the publisher to
the pastry-cook. The waggery on the part of Avila was the more wicked,
because the victim had translated his Commentaries into Latin for him.
It forms, however, the subject of an agreeable letter, wherein Van
Male complains of the undue expectations raised in the emperor's mind
by his "windy Spaniards," and ruefully looks forward to reaping a
harvest of mere straw and chaff.
It was not only by calling at Yuste that the noble lieges of the
emperor testified their homage. Mules were driven to his gate laden
with more substantial tokens of loyalty and affection. The Count of
Oropesa kept his table supplied with game from the forest and the
hill; and the prelates of Toledo, Mondonedo, Segovia, and Salamanca,
offered similar proofs that they had not forgotten the giver of their
mitres. The Jeromites of Guadalupe, rich in sheep and beeves, sent
calves, lambs fattened on bread, and delicate fruits; and from his
sister Catharine, queen of Portugal, there came every fortnight a
supply of conserves and linen.
The villagers of Quacos alone furnished some exceptions to the respect
in which their imperial neighbor was held. Although they received the
greater part of the hundred ducats which he dispensed every month for
charitable purposes, they poached the trout in the fish-ponds which
had been formed for his service in Garganta la Olla; and they drove
his cows to the parish pound whenever they strayed beyond their
legitimate pastures. One fellow having sold the crop on his
cherry-tree, at double its value, to the emperor's purveyor, when he
found that it was left ungathered for a few days, took the opportunity
of disposing of it a second time to another purchaser, who, of course,
left nothing but bare boughs to the rightful owner of the fruit.
Wearied with these annoyances, the emperor complained to the president
of Castille, who administered to the district judge, one Licentiate
Murga, a severe rebuke, which that functionary, in his turn, visited
upon the unruly rustics. Several culprits were apprehended; but while
Castillian justice was taking its deliberate course, some of them who
were related to friars of Yuste, by the influence of their friends at
court, got the emperor himself to petition that the sentence might be
light.
To his servants Charles was a kind and lenient master. He bore
patiently with Adrian the cook, though he left the cinnamon that he
loved out of the dishes; and he contented himself with mildly
admonishing Pelayo, the baker, who got drunk and neglected his oven,
of which the result was burnt bread that sorely tried the toothless
gums of his master. His old military habits, however, still adhered to
him, and though gentle in his manner of enforcing it, he was something
of a martinet in maintaining the discipline of his household and the
convent. Nor had he lost that love of petty economies which made him
sit bare-headed in the rain without the walls of Naumburg, saving a
new velvet cap under his arm, while they fetched him an old one from
the town. Observing in his walks, or from his window, that a certain
basket daily came and went between his garden and the garden of the
friars, he caused Moron to institute an examination, which led to the
harmless discovery that his Flemings were in the habit of bartering
egg-plants with the Jeromites for onions. He had also been disturbed
by suspicious gatherings of young women at the convent-gate, who stood
there gossiping under pretence of receiving alms. When the visitors
came their rounds, he therefore brought the matter under their notice.
The result of the complaint was that the conventional dole was ordered
to be sent round in certain portions to the alcaldes of the various
villages, for distribution on the spot; and, moreover, the crier went
down the straggling, uneven street of Quacos, making the ungallant
proclamation, that any woman who should be found nearer to Yuste than
a certain oratory, about two gunshots from the gate, should be
punished with a hundred stripes.
In the month of September, 1557, the emperor received a visit from his
sisters, the queens Eleanor and Mary. These royal widows, weary of
Guadalaxara, its unyielding duke, and its troublesome alcalde, were
once more in search of a residence. They had cast their eyes on the
banks of the Guadiana, and they were now on their way to that frontier
of Portugal. Neither the convent nor the palace of Yuste being
sufficiently commodious to receive them, they lived at Xarandilla, as
guests of Oropesa. The shattered health of the queen of France
rendered the journey from the castle to the convent, although
performed in a litter, so fatiguing to her, that she accomplished it
only twice. Nor was her brother's strength sufficient to enable him to
return the visits of his favorite sister. But queen Mary was seven
years younger, and still possessed much of the vigor which amazed
Roger Ascham, when he met her galloping into Tongres, far ahead of her
suit, although it was the tenth day she had passed in the saddle. She
therefore mounted her horse almost every day, and rode through the
fading forest to converse with the recluse at Yuste. At the end of a
fortnight, the queens took a sorrowful leave of their brother, and
proceeded on their way to Badajoz, whither the Infanta Mary of
Portugal, daughter of queen Eleanor, had come from Lisbon to receive
them. After this meeting, which was destined to be the last, the
queens returned to the little town of Talaverilla, on the bare plains
of Merida, where they had determined to fix their abode. But they
found there no continuing city. In a few weeks, Eleanor was seized
with a fever, which carried her off on the 25th of February, 1558, the
sixtieth year of her age. When the emperor heard of her illness, he
dispatched Luis Quixada to attend upon her; but she was already at
rest ere the mayordomo reached Talaverilla. Queen Mary went back with
Quixada to Yuste. Her health being much shaken, and the emperor being
unable to move from the convent, she was lodged, on this occasion, in
his apartments. At the end of eight days she bade him a last farewell,
and retired to Cigales, a hamlet two leagues north of Valladolid, and
crowning a vine-clad hill on the western side of the valley of the
Pisuerga.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] Sandoval says he left on the 4th November; Cabrera, that he left
on the 1st; and Siguenca gives the end of October as the time of his
departure.
From Household Words.
OUR PHANTOM SHIP AMONG THE ICE.
Yonder is the coast of Norway; we shall soon be at Spitzbergen. The
"Phantom" is fitted out for Arctic exploration, with instructions to
find her way, by the north-west, to Behring Straits, and take the
South Pole on her passage home. Just now, we steer due north, and
yonder is the coast of Norway. From that coast parted Hugh Willoughby,
three hundred years ago; the first of our countrymen who wrought an
ice-bound highway to Cathay. Two years afterwards his ships were
found, in the haven of Arzina, in Lapland, by some Russian fishermen;
near and about them Willoughby and his companions--seventy dead men.
The ships were freighted with their frozen crews, and sailed for
England; but, "being unstaunch, as it is supposed by their two years'
wintering in Lapland, sunk, by the way, with their dead, and them also
that brought them."
Ice floats about us now, and here is a whale blowing; a whale, too,
very near Spitzbergen. When first Spitzbergen was discovered, in the
good old times, there were whales here in abundance; then a hundred
Dutch ships in a crowd, might go to work, and boats might jostle with
each other, and the only thing deficient would be stowage room for all
the produce of the fishery. Now one ship may have the whole field to
itself, and travel home with an imperfect cargo. It was fine fun in
the good old times; there was no need to cruise. Coppers and boilers
were fitted on the island, and little colonies about them, in the
fishing season, had nothing to do but tow the whales in, with a boat,
as fast as they were wanted by the copper. No wonder that so enviable
a Tom Tidler's ground was claimed by all who had a love for gold and
silver. The English called it theirs, for they first fished; the Dutch
said, nay, but the island was of their discovery; Danes, Hamburghers,
Biscayans, Spaniards, and French put in their claims; and at length,
it was agreed to make partitions. The numerous bays and harbors which
indent the coast were divided among the rival nations; and to this
day, many of them bear, accordingly, such names as English Bay, Danes
Bay, and so forth. One bay there is, with graves in it, named Sorrow.
For it seemed to the fishers most desirable, if possible, to plant
upon this island permanent establishments, and condemned convicts were
offered, by the Russians, life and pardon, if they would winter in
Spitzbergen. They agreed; but, when they saw the icy mountains and the
stormy sea, repented, and went back, to meet a death exempt from
torture. The Dutch tempted free men, by high rewards, to try the
dangerous experiment. One of their victims left a journal, which
describes his sufferings and that of his companions. Their mouths, he
says, became so sore that, if they had food, they could not eat; their
limbs were swollen and disabled with excruciating pain; they died of
scurvy. Those who died first were coffined by their dying friends; a
row of coffins was found, in the spring, each with a man in it; two
men uncoffined, side by side, were dead upon the floor. The journal
told, how once the traces of a bear excited their hope of fresh meat
and amended health; how, with a lantern, two or three had limped upon
the track, until the light became extinguished, and they came back in
despair to die. We might speak, also, of eight English sailors, left,
by accident, upon Spitzbergen, who lived to return and tell their
winter's tale; but a long journey is before us, and we must not linger
on the way. As for our whalers, it need scarcely be related that the
multitude of whales diminished as the slaughtering went on, until it
was no longer possible to keep the coppers full. The whales had to be
searched for by the vessels, and thereafter it was not worth while to
take the blubber to Spitzbergen to be boiled; and the different
nations, having carried home their coppers, left the apparatus of
those fishing stations to decay.
Take heed. There is a noise like thunder, and a mountain snaps in two.
The upper half comes, crashing, grinding, down into the sea, and
loosened streams of water follow it. The sea is displaced before the
mighty heap; it boils and scatters up a cloud of spray; it rushes
back, and violently beats upon the shore. The mountain rises from its
bath, sways to and fro, while water pours along its mighty sides; now
it is tolerably quiet, letting crackers off as air escapes out of its
cavities. That is an iceberg, and in that way are all icebergs formed.
Mountains of ice formed by rain and snow--grand Arctic glaciers,
undermined by the sea or by accumulation overbalanced--topple down
upon the slightest provocation (moved by a shout, perhaps) and where
they float, as this black looking fellow does, they need deep water.
This berg in height is about ninety feet, and a due balance requires
that a mass nine times as large as the part visible should be
submerged. Icebergs are seen about us now which rise two hundred feet
above the water's level.
There are above head plenty of aquatic birds; ashore, or on the ice,
are bears, foxes, reindeer; and in the sea there are innumerable
animals. We shall not see so much life near the North Pole, that is
certain. It would be worth while to go ashore upon an islet there,
near Vogel Sang, to pay a visit to the eider-ducks. Their nests are
so abundant that one cannot avoid treading on them. When the duck is
driven by a hungry fox to leave her eggs, she covers them with down,
in order that they may not cool during her absence, and, moreover,
glues the down into a case with a secretion supplied to her by Nature
for that purpose. The deserted eggs are safe, for that secretion has
an odor very disagreeable to the intruder's nose.
We still sail northward, among sheets of ice, whose boundaries are not
beyond our vision from the mast-head--these are "floes;" between them
we find easy way, it is fair "sailing ice." In the clear sky to the
north, a streak of lucid white light is the reflection from an icy
surface; that is "ice-blink," in the language of these seas. The glare
from snow is yellow, while open water gives a dark reflection.
Northward still; but now we are in fog the ice is troublesome; a gale
is rising. Now, if our ship had timbers, they would crack, and if she
had a bell it would be tolling; if we were shouting to each other we
should not hear, the sea is in a fury. With wild force its breakers
dash against a heaped-up wall of broken ice, that grinds and strains
and battles fiercely with the water. This is "the pack," the edge of a
great ice-field broken by the swell. It is a perilous and exciting
thing to push through pack ice in a gale.
Now there is ice as far as eye can see, that is "an ice-field." Masses
are forced up like colossal tombstones on all sides; our sailors call
them "hummocks;" here and there the broken ice displays large "holes
of water." Shall we go on? Upon this field, in 1827, Parry adventured
with his men, to reach the North Pole, if that should be possible.
With sledges and portable boats they labored on, through snow, and
over hummocks; launching their boats over the larger holes of water.
With stout hearts, undaunted by toil or danger, they went boldly on,
though by degrees it became clear to the leaders of the expedition,
that they were almost like mice upon a treadmill cage, making a great
expenditure of leg for little gain. The ice was floating to the south
with them, as they were walking to the north; still they went on.
Sleeping by day to avoid the glare, and to get greater warmth during
the time of rest, and travelling by night,--watch-makers' days and
nights, for it was all one polar day,--the men soon were unable to
distinguish noon from midnight. The great event of one day on this
dreary waste was the discovery of two flies upon an ice hummock;
these, says Parry, became at once a topic of ridiculous importance.
Presently, after twenty-three miles walking, they only had gone one
mile forward, the ice having industriously floated twenty-two miles in
an opposite direction; and then, after walking forward eleven miles,
they found themselves to be three miles behind the place from which
they started. The party accordingly returned, not having reached the
Pole, not having reached the eighty-third parallel, for the attainment
of which there was a reward of a thousand pounds held out by
government. They reached the parallel of eighty-two degrees,
forty-five minutes, which was, and still is, the most northerly point
trodden by the foot of man. From that point they returned. In those
high latitudes they met with a phenomenon, common in alpine regions,
as well as at the Pole, red snow. The red color being caused by the
abundance of a minute plant, of low development, the last dweller on
the borders of the vegetable kingdom. More interesting to the sailors
was a fat she bear which they killed and devoured with a zeal to be
repented of; for on reaching navigable sea, and pushing in their boats
to Table Island, where some stones were left, they found that the
bears had eaten all their bread, whereon the men agreed that "Bruin
was now square with them." An islet next to Table Island--they are
both mere rocks--is the most northern land discovered. Therefore,
Parry applied to it the name of lieutenant--now Sir James--Ross. This
compliment Sir James Ross has acknowledged in the most emphatic
manner, by discovering on his part, at the other Pole, the most
southern land yet seen, and giving to it the name of Parry: "Parry
Mountains."
It very probably would not be difficult under such circumstances as
Sir W. Parry has since recommended, to reach the North Pole along this
route. Then (especially if it be true, as many believe, that there is
a region of open sea about the Pole itself) we might find it as easy
to reach Behring Straits, by travelling in a straight line over the
North Pole, as by threading the straits and bays north of America.
We turn our course until we have in sight a portion of the ice-barred
eastern coast of Greenland, Shannon Island. Somewhere about this spot
in the seventy-fifth parallel is the most northern part of that coast
known to us. Colonel--then Captain--Sabine in the "Griper," was landed
there to make magnetic and other observations; for the same purpose he
had previously visited Sierra Leone. That is where we differ from our
forefathers. They commissioned hardy seamen to encounter peril for the
search of gold ore, or for a near road to Cathay, but our peril is
encountered for the gain of knowledge, for the highest kind of service
that can now be rendered to the human race.
Before we leave the northern sea, we must not omit to mention the
voyage by Spitzbergen northward, in 1818, of Captain Buchan in the
"Dorothea," accompanied by Lieutenant Franklin, in the "Trent." It was
Sir John Franklin's first voyage to the Arctic regions. This trip
forms the subject of a delightful book by Captain Beechey.
On our way to the south point of Greenland we pass near Cape North, a
point of Iceland. Iceland, we know, is the centre of a volcanic
region, whereof Norway and Greenland are at opposite points of the
circumference. In connection with this district there is a remarkable
fact; that by the agency of subterranean forces a large portion of
Norway and Sweden is being slowly upheaved. While Greenland, on the
west coast, as gradually sinks into the sea, Norway rises at the rate
of about four feet in a century. In Greenland the sinking is so well
known that the natives never build close to the water's edge, and the
Moravian missionaries more than once have had to move farther inland
the poles on which their boats are rested.
Our Phantom Ship stands fairly now along the western coast of
Greenland into Davis Straits. We observe that upon this western coast
there is, by a great deal, less ice than on the eastern. That is a
rule generally. Not only the configuration of the straits and bays,
but also the earth's rotation from west to east, causes the currents
here to set towards the west, and wash the western coasts, while they
act very little on the eastern. We steer across Davis Strait, among
"an infinite number of great countreys and islands of yee;" there,
near the entrance, we find Hudson Strait, which does not now concern
us. Islands probably separate this well-known channel from Frobisher
Strait to the north of it, yet unexplored. Here let us recall to mind
the fleet of fifteen sail, under Sir Martin Frobisher, in 1578,
tossing about and parting company among the ice. Let us remember how
the crew of the "Anne Frances," in that expedition, built a pinnace
when their vessel struck upon a rock, although they wanted main timber
and nails. How they made a mimic forge, and "for the easier making of
nails, were forced to break their tongs, gridiron, and fire-shovel, in
pieces." How Master Captain Best, in this frail bark, with its
imperfect timbers held together by the metamorphosed gridiron and
fire-shovel, continued in his duty, and did "depart up the straights
as before was pretended." How a terrific storm arose, and the fleet
parted, and the intrepid captain was towed "in his small pinnace, at
the stern of the 'Michael,' thorow the raging seas; for the bark was
not able to receive or relieve half its company." The "tongs,
gridyron, and fire-shovell," performed their work only for as many
minutes as were absolutely necessary, for "the pinesse came no sooner
aboord the ship, and the men entred, but she presently shivered and
fell in pieces, and sunke at the ship's stern with all the poor men's
furniture."
Now, too, as we sail up the strait, explored a few years after these
events by Master John Davis, how proudly we remember him as a right
worthy forerunner of those countrymen of his and ours who since have
sailed over his track. Nor ought we to pass without calling to mind
the melancholy fate, in 1606, of Master John Knight, driven, in the
"Hopwell," among huge masses of ice, with a tremendous surf, his
rudder knocked away, his ship half full of water, at the entrance to
these straits. Hoping to find a harbor, he set forth to explore a
large island, and landed, leaving two men to watch the boat, while he,
with three men and the mate, set forth and disappeared over a hill.
For thirteen hours the watchers kept their post; one had his trumpet
with him, for he was a trumpeter, the other had a gun. They trumpeted
often and loudly, they fired, but no answer came. They watched ashore
all night for the return of their captain and his party, "but they
came not at all."
The season is advanced. As we sail on, the sea steams like a
lime-kiln, "frost-smoke" covers it. The water, cooled less rapidly, is
warmer now than the surrounding air, and yields this vapor in
consequence. By the time our vessel has reached Baffin's Bay, still
coasting along Greenland, in addition to old floes and bergs, the
water is beset with "pancake ice." That is the young ice when it first
begins to cake upon the surface. Innocent enough it seems, but it is
sadly clogging to the ships. It sticks about their sides like treacle
on a fly's wing; collecting unequally, it destroys all equilibrium,
and impedes the efforts of the steersman. Rocks split on the Greenland
coast with loud explosions, and more icebergs fall. Icebergs we soon
shall take our leave of; they are only found where there is a coast on
which glaciers can form; they are good for nothing but to yield fresh
water to the vessels; it will be all field, pack, and salt-water ice
presently.
Now we are in Baffin's Bay, explored in the voyages of Bylot and
Baffin, 1615-16. When, in 1817, a great movement in the Greenland ice
caused many to believe that the northern passages would be found
comparatively clear; and when, in consequence of this impression, Sir
John Barrow succeeded in setting a-foot that course of modern Arctic
exploration, which has been continued to the present day, Sir John
Ross was the first man sent to find the north-west passage. Buchan and
Parry were commissioned at the same time to attempt the North Sea
route. Sir John Ross did little more on that occasion than effect a
survey of Baffin's Bay, and prove the accuracy of the ancient pilot.
In the extreme north of the bay there is an inlet or a channel, called
by Baffin Smith's Sound; this Sir John saw, but did not enter. It
never has been explored. It may be an inlet only; but it is also very
possible that by this channel ships might get into the Polar Sea, and
sail by the north shore of Greenland to Spitzbergen. Turning that
corner, and descending along the western coast of Baffin's Bay, there
is another inlet called Jones's Sound by Baffin, also unexplored.
These two inlets, with their very British titles, Smith and Jones, are
of exceeding interest. Jones's Sound may lead by a back way to
Melville Island. South of Jones's Sound there is a wide break in the
shore, a great sound, named by Baffin, Lancaster's, which Sir John
Ross, in that first expedition, failed also to explore. Like our
transatlantic friends at the South Pole, he laid down a range of
clouds as mountains, and considered the way impervious; so he came
home.
Parry went out next year, as a lieutenant, in command of his first and
most successful expedition. He sailed up Lancaster Sound, which was in
that year (1819) unusually clear of ice: and he is the discoverer
whose track we now follow in our Phantom Ship. The whole ground being
new, he had to name the points of country right and left of him. The
way was broad and open, due west, a most prosperous beginning for a
north-west passage. If this continued, he would soon reach Behring
Strait. A broad channel to the right, directed, that is to say,
southward, he entered on the Prince of Wales's birthday, and so called
it the "Prince Regent's Inlet." After exploring this for some miles,
he turned back to resume his western course, for still there was a
broad strait leading westward. This second part of Lancaster Sound, he
called after the Secretary of the Admiralty who had so indefatigably
labored to promote the expeditions, Barrow's Strait. Then he came to a
channel, turning to the right or northward, and he named that
Wellington Channel. Then he had on his right hand ice, islands large
and small, and intervening channels; on the left, ice, and a cape
visible, Cape Walker. At an island, named after the First Lord of the
Admiralty Melville Island, the great frozen wilderness barred further
progress. There he wintered. On the coast of Melville Island they had
passed the latitude of one hundred and ten degrees, and the men had
become entitled to a royal bounty of five thousand pounds. This group
of islands Parry called North Georgian, but they are usually called by
his own name, Parry Islands. This was the first European winter party
in the Arctic circle. Its details are familiar enough. How the men cut
in three days through ice seven inches thick, a canal two miles and a
half long, and so brought the ships into safe harbor. How the genius
of Parry equalled the occasion; how there was established a theatre
and a _North Georgian Gazette_, to cheer the tediousness of a night
which continued for two thousand hours. The dreary dazzling waste in
which there was that little patch of life, the stars, the fog, the
moonlight, the glittering wonder of the northern lights, in which, as
Greenlanders believe, souls of the wicked dance tormented, are
familiar to us. The she-bear stays at home; but the he-bear hungers,
and looks in vain for a stray seal or walrus--woe to the unarmed man
who meets him in his hungry mood! Wolves are abroad, and pretty white
arctic foxes. The reindeer have sought other pasture-ground. The
thermometer runs down to more than sixty degrees below freezing, a
temperature tolerable in calm weather, but distressing in a wind. The
eye-piece of the telescope must be protected now with leather, for the
skin is destroyed that comes in contact with cold metal. The voice at
a mile's distance can be heard distinctly. Happy the day when first
the sun is seen to graze the edge of the horizon; but summer must
come, and the heat of a constant day must accumulate, and summer wane,
before the ice is melted. Then the ice cracks, like cannons
over-charged, and moves with a loud grinding noise. But not yet is
escape to be made with safety. After a detention of ten months, Parry
got free; but, in escaping, narrowly missed the destruction of both
ships, by their being "nipped" between the mighty mass and the
unyielding shore. What animals are found on Melville Island, we may
judge from the results of sport during ten months' detention. The
Island exceeds five thousand miles square, and yielded to the gun,
three musk oxen, twenty-four deer, sixty-eight bears, fifty-three
geese, fifty-nine ducks, and one hundred and forty-four patarmigans,
weighing together three thousand seven hundred and sixty-six
pounds--not quite two ounces of meat per day to every man. Lichens,
stunted grass, saxifrage, and a feeble willow, are the plants of
Melville Island, but in sheltered nooks there are found sorrel, poppy,
and a yellow butter-cup. Halos and double suns are very common
consequences of refraction in this quarter of the world. Franklin
returned from his first and most famous voyage with his men all safe
and sound, except the loss of a few fingers, frost-bitten. We sail
back only as far as Regent's Inlet, being bound for Behring Strait.
The reputation of Sir John Ross being clouded by the discontent
expressed against his first expedition, Mr. Felix Booth, a rich
distiller, provided seventeen thousand pounds to enable his friend to
redeem his credit. Sir John accordingly, in 1829, went out in the
"Victory," provided with steam-machinery that did not answer well. He
was accompanied by Sir James Ross, his nephew. He it was who, on this
occasion, first surveyed Regent's Inlet, down which we are now sailing
with our Phantom Ship. The coast on our right hand, westward, which
Parry saw, is called North Somerset, but farther south, where the
inlet widens, the land is named Boothia Felix. Five years before this,
Parry, in his third voyage, had attempted to pass down Regent's Inlet,
where among ice and storm, one of his ships, the "Hecla," had been
driven violently ashore, and of necessity, abandoned. The stores had
been removed, and Sir John was able now to replenish his own vessel
from them. Rounding a point at the bottom of Prince Regent's Inlet, we
find Felix Harbor, where Sir John Ross wintered. His nephew made from
this point scientific explorations; discovered a strait, called after
him the Strait of James Ross, and on the northern shore of this
strait, on the main land of Boothia, planted the British flag on the
Northern Magnetic Pole. The ice broke up, so did the "Victory;" after
a hairbreadth escape, the party found a searching vessel, and arrived
home after an absence of four years and five months, Sir John Ross
having lost his ship, and won his reputation. The friend in need was
made a baronet for his munificence; Sir John was reimbursed for all
his losses, and the crew liberally taken care of. Sir James Ross had a
rod and flag signifying "Magnetic Pole," given to him for a new crest,
by the Heralds' College, for which he was no doubt greatly the better.
We have sailed northward to get into Hudson Strait, the high road into
Hudson Bay. Along the shore are Exquimaux in boats, extremely active,
but these filthy creatures we pass by; the Exquimaux in Hudson Strait
are like the <DW64>s of the coast, demoralized by intercourse with
European traders. These are not true pictures of the loving children
of the north. Our "Phantom" floats on the wide waters of Hudson
Bay--the grave of its discoverer. Familiar as the story is of Henry
Hudson's fate, for John King's sake how gladly we repeat it. While
sailing on the waters he discovered, in 1611, his men mutinied; the
mutiny was aided by Henry Green, a prodigal, whom Hudson had
generously shielded from ruin. Hudson, the master, and his son, with
six sick or disabled members of the crew, were driven from their
cabins, forced into a little shallop, and committed helpless to the
water and the ice. But there was one stout man, John King, the
carpenter, who stepped into the boat, abjuring his companions, and
chose rather to die than even passively be partaker in so foul a
crime. John King, we who live after, will remember you.
Here on an island, Charlton Island, near our entrance to the bay, in
1631, wintered poor Captain James with his wrecked crew. This is a
point outside the Arctic circle, but quite cold enough. Of nights,
with a good fire in the house they built, hoar frost covered their
beds, and the cook's water in a metal pan before the fire, was warm on
one side, and froze on the other. Here "it snowed and froze extremely,
at which time we, looking from the shore towards the ship, she
appeared a piece of ice in the fashion of a ship, or a ship resembling
a piece of ice." Here the gunner, who had lost his leg, besought that,
"for the little time he had to live, he might drink sack altogether."
He died and was buried in the ice far from the vessel, but when
afterwards two more were dead of scurvy, and the others, in a
miserable state, were working with faint hope about their shattered
vessel, the gunner was found to have returned home to the old vessel;
his leg had penetrated through a porthole. They "digged him clear out,
and he was as free from noisomness," the record says, "as when we
first committed him to the sea. This alteration had the ice, and
water, and time, only wrought on him, that his flesh would slip up and
down upon his bones, like a glove on a man's hand. In the evening we
buried him by the others." These worthy souls, laid up with the
agonies of scurvy, knew that in action was their only hope; they
forced their limbs to labor, among ice and water, every day. They set
about the building of a boat, but the hard frozen wood had broken all
their axes, so they made shift with the pieces. To fell a tree, it was
first requisite to light a fire around it, and the carpenter could
only labor with his wood over a fire, or else it was like stone under
his tools. Before the boat was made they buried the carpenter. The
captain exhorted them to put their trust in God; "His will be done. If
it be our fortune to end our days here, we are as near Heaven as in
England. They all protested to work to the utmost of their strength,
and that they would refuse nothing that I should order them to do to
the utmost hazard of their lives. I thanked them all." Truly the North
Pole has its triumphs. If we took no account of the fields of trade
opened by our Arctic explorers, if we thought nothing of the wants of
science in comparison with the lives lost in supplying them, is not
the loss of life a gain, which proves and tests the fortitude of noble
hearts, and teaches us respect for human nature? All the lives that
have been lost among these Polar regions, are less in number than the
dead upon a battle-field. The battle-field inflicted shame upon our
race--is it with shame that our hearts throb in following these Arctic
heroes? March 31st, says Captain James, "was very cold, with snow and
hail, which pinched our sick men more than any time this year. This
evening, being May eve, we returned late from our work to our house,
and made a good fire, and chose ladies, and ceremoniously wore their
names in our caps, endeavoring to revive ourselves by any means. On
the 15th, I manured a little patch of ground that was bare of snow,
and sowed it with pease, hoping to have some shortly to eat, for as
yet we could see no green thing to comfort us." Those pease saved the
party; as they came up the young shoots were boiled and eaten, so
their health began to mend, and they recovered from their scurvy.
Eventually, after other perils, they succeeded making their escape.
A strait, called Sir Thomas Rowe's Welcome, leads due north out of
Hudson Bay, being parted by Southampton Island from the strait through
which we entered. Its name is quaint, for so was its discoverer, Luke
Fox, a worthy man, addicted much to euphuism. Fox sailed from London
in the same year in which James sailed from Bristol. They were rivals.
Meeting in Davis Straits, Fox dined on board his friendly rival's
vessel, which was very unfit for the service upon which it went. The
sea washed over them and came into the cabin, so says Fox, "sauce
would not have been wanted if there had been roast mutton." Luke Fox
being ice-bound and in peril, writes, "God thinks upon our
imprisonment with a _supersedeas_;" but he was a good and honorable
man as well as euphuist. His "Sir Thomas Rowe's Welcome," leads into
Fox Channel; our "Phantom Ship" is pushing through the welcome passes
on the left-hand Repulse Bay. This portion of the Arctic regions, with
Fox Channel, is extremely perilous. Here Captain Lyon, in the
"Griper," was thrown anchorless upon the mercy of a stormy sea, ice
crashing around him. One island in Fox Channel is called Mill Island,
from the incessant grinding of great masses of ice collected there. In
the northern part of Fox Channel, on the western shore, is Melville
Peninsula, where Parry wintered on his second voyage. Here let us go
ashore and see a little colony of Esquimaux.
Their huts are built of blocks of snow, and arched, having an ice pane
for a window. They construct their arched entrance and their
hemispherical roof, on the true principles of architecture. Those wise
men, the Egyptians, made their arch by hewing the stones out of shape,
the Esquimaux have the true secret. Here they are, with little food in
winter and great appetites; devouring a whole walrus when they get it,
and taking the chance of hunger for the next eight days--hungry or
full, for ever happy in their lot--here are the Esquimaux. They are
warmly clothed, each in a double suit of skins sewn neatly together.
Some are singing, with good voices, too. Please them, and they
straightway dance; activity is good in a cold climate. Play to them on
the flute, or if you can sing well, sing, or turn a barrel-organ, they
are mute, eager with wonder and delight; their love of music is
intense. Give them a pencil, and, like children, they will draw. Teach
them, and they will learn, oblige them, and they will be grateful.
"Gentle and loving savages," one of our old worthies called them, and
the Portuguese were so much impressed with their teachable and gentle
conduct, that a Venetian ambassador writes, "His serene majesty
contemplates deriving great advantage from the country, not only on
account of the timber, of which he has occasion, but of the
inhabitants, who are admirably calculated for labor, and are the best
I have ever seen." The Esquimaux, of course, will learn vice, and in
the region visited by whale ships, vice enough has certainly been
taught him. Here are the dogs, who will eat old coats, or any thing;
and, near the dwellings, here is a snow-bunting,--robin redbreast of
the Arctic lands. A party of our sailors once, on landing, took some
sticks from a large heap, and uncovered the nest of a snow-bunting
with young, the bird flew to a little distance, but seeing that the
men sat down and harmed her not, continued to seek food and supply her
little ones, with full faith in the good intentions of the party.
Captain Lyon found a child's grave partly uncovered, and a
snow-bunting had built its nest upon the infant's bosom.
Sailing round Melville Peninsula, we come into the gulf of Akkolee,
through Fury and Hecla Straits, discovered by Parry. So we get back to
the bottom of Regent's Inlet, which we quitted a short time ago, and
sailing in the neighborhood of the magnetic pole, we reach the estuary
of Black's River, on the north-east coast of America. We pass then
through a straight, discovered in 1839, by Dean and Simpson, still
coasting along the northern shore of America, on the Great Stinking
Lake, as Indians call this ocean. Boats, ice permitting, and our
"Phantom Ship," of course, can coast all the way to Behring Strait.
The whole coast has been explored by Sir John Franklin, Sir John
Richardson, and Sir George Back, who have earned their knighthoods
through great peril. As we pass Coronation Gulf--the scene of
Franklin, Richardson, and Back's first exploration from the Coppermine
River--we revert to the romantic story of their journey back, over a
land of snow and frost, subsisting upon lichens, with companions
starved to death; where they plucked wild leaves for tea, and ate
their shoes for supper; the tragedy by the river; the murder of poor
Hood, with a book of prayers in his hand; Franklin at Fort Enterprise,
with two companions at the point of death, himself gaunt, hollow-eyed,
feeding on pounded bones, raked from the dunghill; the arrival of Dr.
Richardson and the brave sailor; their awful story of the cannibal
Michel;--we revert to these things with a shudder. But we must
continue on our route. The current still flows westward, bearing now
large quantities of drift-wood, out of the Mackenzie River. At the
name of Sir Alexander Mackenzie, also, we might pause, and talk over
the bold achievements of another arctic hero; but we pass on, by a
rugged and inhospitable coast, unfit for vessels of large
draught,--pass the broad mouth of the Youcon, pass Point Barrow, Icy
Cape, and are in Behring Strait. Had we passed on, we should have
found the Russian Arctic coast line, traced out by a series of Russian
explorers; of whom the most illustrious--Baron Von Wrangell--states,
that beyond a certain distance to the northward, there is always found
what he calls the _Polynja_ (open water.) This is the fact adduced by
those who adhere to the old fancy that there is a sea about the pole
itself quite free from ice.
We pass through Behring Straits. Behring, a Dane by birth, but in the
Russian service, died here in 1741, upon the scene of his discovery.
He and his crew, victims of scurvy, were unable to manage their vessel
in a storm; and it was at length wrecked on a barren island, there,
where "want, nakedness, cold, sickness, impatience, and despair were
their daily guests." Behring, his lieutenant, and the master died.
Now we must put a girdle round the world, and do it with the speed of
Ariel. Here we are already in the heats of the equator. We can do no
more than remark, that if air and water are heated at the equator, and
frozen at the poles, there will be equilibrium destroyed, and
constant currents caused. And so it happens, so we get the prevailing
winds, and all the currents of the ocean. Of these, some of the uses,
but by no means all, are obvious. We urge our "Phantom" fleetly to the
southern pole. Here, over the other hemisphere of the earth, there
shines another hemisphere of heaven. The stars are changed; the
southern cross, the Magellanic clouds, the "coal-sack" in the milky
way, attract our notice. Now we are in the southern latitude that
corresponds to England in the north; nay, at a greater distance, from
the pole, we find Kerguelen's Land, emphatically called "The Isle of
Desolation." Icebergs float much further into the warm sea on this
side of the equator, before they dissolve. The South Pole is evidently
a more thorough refrigerator than the North. Why is this? We shall
soon see. We push through pack-ice, and through floes and fields, by
lofty bergs, by an island or two covered with penguins, until there
lies before us a long range of mountains, nine or ten thousand feet in
height, and all clad in eternal snow. That is a portion of the
Southern Continent. Lieutenant Wilkes, in the American exploring
expedition, first discovered this, and mapped out some part of the
coast, putting a few clouds in likewise,--a mistake easily made by
those who omit to verify every foot of land. Sir James Ross, in his
most successful South Pole Expedition, during the years 1839-43,
sailed over some of this land, and confirmed the rest. The Antarctic,
as well as the Arctic honors he secured for England, by turning a
corner of the land, and sailing far southward, along an impenetrable
icy barrier, to the latitude of seventy-eight degrees, nine minutes.
It is an elevated continent, with many lofty ranges. In the extreme
southern point reached by the ships, a magnificent volcano was seen
spouting fire and smoke out of the everlasting snow. This volcano,
twelve thousand four hundred feet high, was named Mount Erebus; for
the "Erebus" and "Terror," now sought anxiously among the bays, and
sounds, and creeks of the North Pole, then coasted by the solid
ice-walls of the south. Only as "Phantoms" can we cross this land and
live. These lofty mountain-ranges, cold to the marrow, these vast
glaciers, and elevated plains of ice, no wonder that they cast a chill
about their neighborhood. Our very ghosts are cold, and the volcanoes
only make the frost colder by contrast. We descend upon the other
side, take ship again, and float up the Atlantic, through the tropics.
We have been round the world now, and among the ice, and have not
grown much older since we started.
* * * * *
Other "Phantoms" are to be added to those thus described. Besides the
expeditions now in the ice regions, from England and America, one, and
perhaps two more, have in the last two months started in the search
for Franklin.
MADAME DE GENLIS AND MADAME DE STAEL.
This curious piece has recently appeared in the _Gazette de France_,
and has excited much remark. It is given out to be the production of
Charles X., when Monsieur, and was communicated to M. Neychens by the
Marquis de la Roche Jacqueleine.
"Before the Revolution, I was but very slightly acquainted with Mme.
de Genlis, her conduct during that disastrous period having not a
little contributed to sink her in my estimation; and the publication
of her novel, 'The Knights of the Swan' (the _first_ edition),
completed my dislike to a person who had so cruelly aspersed the
character of the queen, my sister-in-law.
"On my return to France, I received a letter full of the most
passionate expressions of loyalty from beginning to end; the missive
being signed Comtesse de Genlis; but imagining this could be but a
_plaisanterie_ of some intimate friend of my own, I paid no attention
whatever to it. However, in two or three days it was followed by a
second epistle, complaining of my silence, and appealing to the great
sacrifices the writer had made in the interest of my cause, as giving
her a _right_ to my favorable attention. Talleyrand being present, I
asked him if he could explain this enigma.
"'Nothing is easier,' replied he; 'Mme. de Genlis is unique. She has
lost her own memory, and fancies others have experienced a similar
bereavement.'
"'She speaks,' pursued I, 'of her virtues, her misfortunes, and
Napoleon's persecutions.'
"'Hem! In 1789 her husband was quite ruined, so the events of that
period took nothing from _him_; and as to the tyranny of Bonaparte, it
consisted, in the first place, of giving her a magnificent suite of
apartments in the Arsenal; and in the second place, granting her a
pension of six thousand francs a year, upon the sole condition of her
keeping him every month _au courant_ of the literature of the day.'
"'What shocking ferocity!' replied I, laughing; 'a case of infamous
despotism indeed. And this martyr to our cause asks to see me.'
"'Yes; and pray let your royal highness grant her an audience, were it
only for once: I assure you she is most amusing.'
"I followed the advice of M. de Talleyrand, and accorded to the lady
the permission she so pathetically demanded. The evening before she
was to present herself, however, came a third missive, recommending a
certain Casimir, the _phenix_ of the _epoque_, and several other
persons besides; all, according to Mme. de Genlis, particularly
celebrated people; and the postscript to this effusion prepared me
also beforehand for the request she intended to make, of being
appointed governess to the children of my son, the Duc de Berry, who
was at that time not even married.
"Just at this period it so happened that I was besieged by more than a
dozen persons of every rank in regard to Mme. de Stael, formerly
exiled by Bonaparte, and who had rushed to Paris without taking
breath, fully persuaded every one there, and throughout all France,
was impatient to see her again. Mme. de Stael had a double view in
thus introducing herself to me; namely, to direct my proceedings
entirely, and to obtain payment of the two million francs deposited in
the treasury by her father during his ministry. I confess I was not
prepossessed in favor of Mme. de Stael, for she also, in 1789, had
manifested so much hatred towards the Bourbons, that I thought all she
could possibly look to from us, was the liberty of living in Paris
unmolested: but I little knew her. She, on her side, imagined we ought
to be grateful to her for having quarrelled with Bonaparte--her own
pride being, in fact, the sole cause of the rupture.
"M. de Fontanes and M. de Chateaubriand were the first who mentioned
her to me; and to the importance with which they treated the matter, I
answered, laughing, 'So, Mme. la Baronne de Stael is then a supreme
power?'
"'Indeed she is, and it might have very unfavorable effects did your
royal highness overlook her: for what she asserts, every one believes,
and then--she has suffered _so_ much!'
"'Very likely; but what did she make my poor sister-in-law, the queen,
suffer? Do you think I can forget the abominable things she said, the
falsehoods she told? and was it not in consequence of them, and the
public's belief of them, that she owed the possibility of the
ambassadress of Sweden's being able to dare insult that unfortunate
princess in her very palace?'
"Mme. de Stael's envoys, who manifested some confusion at the fidelity
of my memory, implored me to forget the past, think only of the
future, and remember that the genius of Mme. de Stael, whose
reputation was European, might be of the utmost advantage, or the
reverse. Tired of disputing I yielded; consented to receive this
_femme celebre_, as they all called her, and fixed for her reception
the same day I had notified to Mme. de Genlis.
"My brother has said, 'Punctuality is the politeness of kings'--words
as true and just as they are happily expressed; and the princes of my
family have never been found wanting in good manners; so I was in my
study waiting when Mme. de Genlis was announced. I was astonished at
the sight of a long, dry woman, with a swarthy complexion, dressed in
a printed cotton gown, any thing but clean, and a shawl covered with
dust, her habit-shirt, her hair even bearing marks of great
negligence. I had read her works, and remembering all she said about
neatness, and cleanliness, and proper attention to one's dress, I
thought she added another to the many who fail to add example to their
precepts. While making these reflections, Mme. de Genlis was firing
off a volley of curtsies; and upon finishing what she deemed the
requisite number, she pulled out of a great huge bag four manuscripts
of enormous dimensions.
"'I bring,' commenced the lady, 'to your royal highness what will
amply repay any kindness you may show to me--No. 1 is a plan of
conduct, and the project of a constitution; No. 2 contains a
collection of speeches in answer to those likely to be addressed to
Monsieur; No. 3, addresses and letters proper to send to foreign
powers, the provinces, &c., and in No. 4, Monsieur will find a plan of
education, the only one proper to be persued by royalty, in reading
which, your royal highness will feel as convinced of the extent of my
acquirements as of the purity of my loyalty.'
"Many in my place might have been angry; but, on the contrary, I
thanked her with an air of polite sincerity for the treasures she was
so obliging as to confide to me, and then condoled with her upon the
misfortunes she had endured under the tyranny of Bonaparte.
"'Alas! Monsieur, this abominable despot dared to make a mere
plaything of _me_! and yet I strove, by wise advice, to guide him
right, and teach him to regulate his conduct properly: but he would
not be led. I even offered to mediate between him and the pope, but he
did not even so much as answer me upon this subject; although (being a
most profound theologian) I could have smoothed almost all
difficulties when the Concordat was in question.'
"This last piece of pretension was almost too much for my gravity.
However, I applauded the zeal of this new mother of the church, and
was going to put an end to the interview, when it came into my head to
ask her if she was well acquainted with Mme. de Stael.
"'God forbid!' cried she, making a sign of the cross: 'I have no
acquaintance with _such people_; and I but do my duty in warning those
who have not perused the works of that lady, to bear in mind that they
are written in the worst possible taste, and are also extremely
immoral. Let your royal highness turn your thoughts from such books;
you will find in _mine_ all that is necessary to know. I suppose
Monsieur has not yet seen _Little Necker_?'
"'Mme. la Baronne de Stael Holstein has asked for an audience, and I
even suspect she may be already arrived at the Tuileries.'
"'Let your royal highness beware of this woman! See in her the
implacable enemy of the Bourbons, and in me their most devoted slave.'
"This new proof of the want of memory in Madame de Genlis amused me as
much as the other absurdities she had favored me with; and I was in
the act of making her the ordinary salutations of adieu, when I
observed her blush purple, and her proud rival entered.
"The two ladies exchanged a haughty bow, and the comedy, which had
just finished with the departure of Mme. de Genlis, recommenced under
a different form when Mme. de Stael appeared on the stage. The
baroness was dressed, not certainly dirty, like the countess, but
quite as absurdly. She wore a red satin gown, embroidered with flowers
of gold and silk; a profusion of diamonds; rings enough to stock a
pawnbroker's shop; and, I must add, that I never before saw so low a
cut corsage display less inviting charms. Upon her head was a huge
turban, constructed on the pattern of that worn by the Cumean sybil,
which put a finishing stroke to a costume so little in harmony with
her style of face. I scarcely understand how a woman of genius _can_
have such a false, vulgar taste. Mme. de Stael began by apologizing
for occupying a few moments which she doubted not I should have
preferred giving to Mme. de Genlis. 'She is one of the illustrations
of the day,' observed she, with a sneering smile--'a colossus of
religious faith, and represents in her person, she fancies, all the
literature of the age. Ah! ah! Monsieur, in the hands of _such people_
the world would soon retrograde; while it should, on the contrary, be
impelled forward, and your royal highness be the first to put yourself
at the head of this great movement. To you should belong the glory of
giving the impulse, guided by _my experience_.'
"'Come,' thought I, 'here is another going to plague me with plans of
conduct, and constitutions, and reforms, which I am to persuade the
king my brother to adopt. It seems to be an insanity in France this
composing of new constitutions.' While I was making these reflections,
madame had time to give utterance to a thousand fine phrases, every
one more sublime than the preceding. However, to put an end to them, I
asked her if there was any thing she wished to demand.
"'Ah, dear!--oh yes, prince!' replied the lady in an indifferent tone.
'A mere trifle--less than nothing--two millions, without counting the
interest at five per cent. But these are matters I leave entirely to
my men of business, being for my own part much more absorbed in
politics and the science of government.'
"'Alas! madame, the king has arrived in France with his mind made up
upon most subjects, the fruit of twenty-five years' meditation; and I
fear he is not likely to profit by your good intentions.'
"'Then so much the worse for him and for France! All the world knows
what it cost Bonaparte his refusing to follow my advice, and pay me my
two millions. I have studied the Revolution profoundly, followed it
through all its phases, and I flatter myself I am the only pilot who
can hold with one hand the rudder of the state, if at least I have
Benjamin for steersman.'
"'Benjamin! Benjamin--who?' asked I in surprise.
"'It would give me the deepest distress,' replied she, 'to think that
the name of M. le Baron de Rebecque Benjamin de Constant has never
reached the ears of your royal highness. One of his ancestors saved
the life of Henry Quatre. Devoted to the descendants of this good
king, he is ready to serve them; and among several _constitutions_ he
has in his portfolio, you will probably find one with annotations and
reflections by myself, which will suit you. Adopt it, and choose
Benjamin Constant to carry the idea out.'
"It seemed like a thing resolved--an event decided upon--this proposal
of inventing a constitution for us. I kept as long as I could upon the
defensive, but Mme. de Stael, carried away by her zeal and her
enthusiasm, instead of speaking of what personally concerned herself,
knocked me about with arguments, and crushed me under threats and
menaces; so, tired to death of entertaining, instead of a clever,
humble woman, a roaring politician in petticoats, I finished the
audience, leaving her as little satisfied as myself with the
interview. Mme. de Genlis was ten times less disagreeable, and twenty
times more amusing.
"That same evening I had M. le Prince de Talleyrand with me, and I was
confounded by hearing him say, 'So, your royal highness has made Mme.
de Stael completely quarrel with me now?'
"'Me! I never so much as pronounced your name.'
"'Notwithstanding that, she is convinced that I am the person who
prevents your royal highness from employing her in your political
relations, and that I am jealous of Benjamin Constant. She is resolved
on revenge.'
"'Ha, ha!--and what can she do?'
"'A very great deal of mischief, Monseigneur. She has numerous
partisans; and if she declares herself Bonapartiste, we must look to
ourselves.'
"'That _would_ be curious.'
"'Oh, I shall take upon myself to prevent her going so far; but she
will be Royalist no longer, and we shall suffer from that.'
"At this time I had not the remotest idea of what a mere man, still
less a mere woman, could do in France: but now I understand it
perfectly, and if Mme. de Stael was living--Heaven pardon me!--I would
strike up a flirtation with her."
From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.
THE SMUGGLER MALGRE LUI.
There is perhaps no more singular anomaly in the history of the human
mind than the very different light in which a fraud is viewed
according to the circumstances in which it is practised. The singular
revelations made to the Chancellor of the Exchequer by a late
deputation will probably be fresh in the remembrance of most of our
readers. Even the learned gentleman himself could hardly maintain his
professional gravity when informed of the ingenious contrivances
adopted for defrauding the revenue. Advertisements floating through
the air attached to balloons, French gloves making their way into the
kingdom in separate detachments of right and left hands, mutilated
clocks travelling without their wheels--such were some of the divers
modes by which the law was declared to be evaded, and the custom-house
officers baffled. We are by no means disposed either to think or speak
with levity of this system of things. However much a man may succeed
in reconciling any fraud to his own conscience, or however leniently
it may be viewed by his fellow-men, it will yet assuredly help to
degrade his moral nature, and its repetition will slowly, but surely,
deaden the silent monitor within his breast. All we affirm is the
well-known fact, that laws are in most cases ineffective, except in so
far as they harmonize with the innate moral convictions of mankind;
and that many a man who would not for worlds cheat his next door
neighbor of a penny, will own without a blush, and perhaps even with a
smile of triumph, that he has cheated the government of thousands! It
is not often, however, that so daring and successful a stroke of this
nature is effected as that which we find related of a celebrated Swiss
jeweller, who actually succeeded in making the French director-general
of the customs act the part of a smuggler!
Geneva, as must be well known to all our readers, supplies half Europe
with her watches and her jewelry. Three thousand workmen are kept in
continual employment by her master goldsmiths; while seventy-five
thousand ounces of gold, and fifty thousand marks of silver, annually
change their form, and multiply their value beneath their skilful
hands! The most fashionable jeweller's shop in Geneva is
unquestionably that of Beautte; his trinkets are those which beyond
all others excite the longing of the Parisian ladies. A high duty is
charged upon these in crossing the French frontier; but, in
consideration of a brokerage of five per cent., M. Beautte undertakes
to forward them safely to their destination through contraband
channels; and the bargain between the buyer and seller is concluded
with this condition as openly appended and avowed as if there were no
such personages as custom-house officers in the world.
All this went on smoothly for some years with M. Beautte; but at
length it so happened that M. le Comte de Saint-Cricq, a gentleman of
much ability and vigilance was appointed director-general of the
customs. He heard so much of the skill evinced by M. Beautte in
eluding the vigilance of his agents, that he resolved personally to
investigate the matter, and prove for himself the truth of the
reports. He consequently repaired to Geneva, presented himself at M.
Beautte's shop, and purchased thirty thousand francs' worth of
jewelry, on the express condition that they should be transmitted to
him free of duty on his return to Paris. M. Beautte accepted the
proposed condition with the air of a man who was perfectly accustomed
to arrangements of this description. He, however, presented for
signature to M. de Saint-Cricq a private deed, by which the purchaser
pledged himself to pay the customary five per cent. _smuggling dues_,
in addition to the thirty thousand francs' purchase-money.
M. de Saint-Cricq smiled, and taking the pen from the jeweller's hand,
affixed to the deed the following signature--"L. de Saint-Cricq,
Director-General of the Customs in France." He then handed the
document back to M. Beautte, who merely glanced at the signature, and
replied with a courteous bow--
"_Monsieur le Directeur des Douanes_, I shall take care that the
articles which you have done me the honor of purchasing shall be
handed to you in Paris directly after your arrival." M. de
Saint-Cricq, piqued by the man's cool daring and apparent defiance of
his authority and professional skill, immediately ordered post-horses,
and without the delay of a single hour set out with all speed on the
road to Paris.
On reaching the frontier, the Director-General made himself known to
the _employes_ who came forward to examine his carriage--informed the
chief officer of the incident which had just occurred, and begged of
him to keep up the strictest surveillance along the whole of the
frontier line, as he felt it to be a matter of the utmost importance
to place some check upon the wholesale system of fraud which had for
some years past been practised upon the revenue by the Geneva
jewellers. He also promised a gratuity of fifty louis-d'ors to
whichever of the _employes_ should be so fortunate as to seize the
prohibited jewels--a promise which had the effect of keeping every
officer on the line wide awake, and in a state of full activity,
during the three succeeding days.
In the meanwhile M. de Saint-Cricq reached Paris, alighted at his own
residence, and after having embraced his wife and children, and passed
a few moments in their society, retired to his dressing-room, for the
purpose of laying aside his travelling costume. The first thing which
arrested his attention when he entered the apartment was a very
elegant looking casket, which stood upon the mantelpiece, and which he
did not remember to have ever before seen. He approached to examine
it; his name was on the lid; it was addressed in full to "M. le Comte
de Saint-Cricq, Director-General of Customs." He accordingly opened it
without hesitation, and his surprise and dismay may be conceived when,
on examining the contents, he recognized at once the beautiful
trinkets he had so recently purchased in Geneva!
The count rung for his valet, and inquired from him whether he could
throw any light upon this mysterious occurrence. The valet looked
surprised, and replied, that on opening his master's portmanteau, the
casket in question was one of the first articles which presented
itself to his sight, and its elegant form and elaborate workmanship
having led him to suppose it contained articles of value, he had
carefully laid it aside upon the mantelpiece. The count, who had full
confidence in his valet, and felt assured that he was in no way
concerned in the matter, derived but little satisfaction from this
account, which only served to throw a fresh veil of mystery over the
transaction; and it was only some time afterwards, and after long
investigation, that he succeeded in discovering the real facts of the
case.
Beautte, the jeweller, had a secret understanding with one of the
servants of the hotel at which the Comte de Saint-Cricq lodged in
Geneva. This man, taking advantage of the hurried preparations for the
count's departure, contrived to slip the casket unperceived into one
of his portmanteaus, and the ingenious jeweller had thus succeeded in
making the Director-General of Customs one of the most successful
_smugglers_ in the kingdom!
THE TRUE HISTORY OF AGNES SOREL.
BY R. H. HORNE, AUTHOR OF "ORION," ETC.
Agnes Sorel was born in 1409, at the village of Fromenteau, in
Touraine. Her father was the Seigneur de St. Gerand, a gentleman
attached to the house of the Count de Clermont. At the age of fifteen,
she was placed as maid of honor to Isabel of Lorraine, duchess of
Anjou, and accompanied this princess when she went to Paris, in 1431.
At this period, Agnes Sorel was considered to be the most beautiful
woman of her day. Her conversation and wit were equal to her beauty.
In the "Histoire des Favorites" she is said to have been noble-minded,
full of generosity, with sweetness of manners, and sincerity of heart.
The same writer adds that every body fell in love with her, from the
king to the humblest officers. Charles VII. became passionately
attached to her; and in order to insure her constant presence at
court, he placed her as maid of honor to the queen. The amour was
conducted with secrecy; but the fact became manifest by the favors
which the king lavished upon the relations of Agnes, while she herself
lived in great magnificence amidst a very poor court. She was fond of
splendor, and has been quaintly described by Monstrelet as "having
enjoyed all the pleasures of life, in wearing rich clothes, furred
robes, and golden chains of precious stones, and whatever else she
desired." When she visited Paris, in attendance upon the queen, the
splendor and expense of Agnes were so excessive that the people
murmured greatly; whereupon the proud beauty exclaimed against the
Parisians as churls.
During the time that the English were actually in possession of a
great part of France, it was in vain that the queen (Mary of Anjou)
endeavored to rouse her husband from his lethargy. That the king was
not deficient in energy and physical courage, is evident from the
manner in which he signalized himself on various occasions. At the
siege of Montereau in 1437, (according to the Chronicle de Charles
VII. par M. Alain Chartier, Nevers, 1594,) he rushed to the assault,
now thrusting with the lance, now assisting the artillery, now
superintending the various military engines for heaving masses of
stone or wood; but during the period above-mentioned he was lost to
all sense of royal glory, and had given himself up entirely to hunting
and all sorts of pleasures.
He was recalled by Agnes to a sense of what was due to his kingdom.
She told him, one day, says Brantoine, that when she was a girl, an
astrologer had predicted that she would be loved by one of the most
valiant kings of Christendom; that when His Majesty Charles VII. had
done her this honor, she thought, of course, he was the valiant king
who had been predicted; but now, finding he was so weak, and had so
little care as to what became of himself and his affairs, she saw that
she had made a mistake, and that this valiant prince could not be
Charles, but the King of England. Saying these words, Agnes rose, and
bowing reverentially to the king, asked leave to retire to the court
of the English king, since the prophecy pointed at him. "Charles," she
said, "was about to lose his crown, and Henry to unite it to his." By
this rebuke the king was much affected. He gave up his hunting, left
his gardens for the field of battle, and succeeded in driving the
English out of France. This circumstance occasioned Francis I. to make
the following verses, which, it is said, he wrote under a portrait of
Agnes:--
"Plus de louange et d'honneur tu merite,
La cause etant de France recouvrer,
Que ce que peut dedans un cloitre ouvrer,
Close nonnain, ou bien devol hermite."
The king lavished gifts and honors upon Agnes. He built a chateau for
her at Loches; he gave her, besides the comte de Penthievre, in
Bretagne, the lordships of Roche Serviere, of Issoudun, in Berri, and
the Chateau de Beaute, at the extremity of the wood of Vincennes, that
she might be, as he said, "in deed and in name the Queen of Beauty."
It is believed that she never made a bad use of her influence with the
king for any political purposes or unkind private feelings;
nevertheless, the Dauphin (afterwards Louis XI.) conceived an
implacable jealousy against her, and carried his resentment so far, on
one occasion, as to give her a blow.
She retired, in 1445, to Loches, and for nearly five years declined
appearing at court; but the king's love for her still continued, and
he took many journeys into Touraine to visit her. But eventually the
queen, who had never forgotten her noble counsels to the king, which
had roused him from his lethargy, persuaded her to return to court.
The queen appears to have felt no jealousy, but to have had a regard
for her. It seems, also, that Agnes had become very popular, partly
from her beauty and wit, partly because she was considered in a great
measure, to have saved France, and partly because she distributed
large sums in alms to the poor, and to repair decayed churches.
After the taking of Rouen, and the entire expulsion of the English
from France, the king took up his winter-quarters in the Abbey of
Jumiege. Agnes hastened to the Chateau de Masnal la Belle, a league
distant from this abbey, for the purpose of warning the king of a
conspiracy. The king only laughed at the intelligence; but the death
of Agnes Sorel, which immediately followed, gives some grounds for
crediting the truth of the information which she communicated. At this
place Agnes, still beautiful, and in perfect health, was suddenly
attacked by a dysentery which carried her off. It is believed that she
was poisoned. Some affirm that it was effected by direction of the
Dauphin; others accuse Jacques Coeur, the king's goldsmith (as the
master of the treasury was then called), and others attribute it to
female jealousy.
The account given of her death by Monstrelet is to the following
effect: Agnes was suddenly attacked by a dysentery which could not be
cured. She lingered long, and employed the time in prayer and
repentance; she often, as he relates, called upon Mary Magdalen, who
had also been a sinner, and upon God and the blessed Virgin for aid.
After receiving the sacrament, she desired the book of prayers to be
brought her, in which she had written with her own hand the verses of
St. Barnard, and these she repeated. She then made many gifts, which
were put down in writing: and these, including alms and the payment of
her servants, amounted to 60,000 crowns. The fair Agnes, the once
proud beauty, perceiving her end approaching, and now feeling a
disgust to life proportioned to the fulness of her past enjoyment of
all its gayeties, vanities, and pleasures, said to the Lord de la
Tremouille and others, and in the presence of all her damsels, that
our insecure and worldly life was but a foul ordure. She then
requested her confessor to give her absolution, according to a form
she herself dictated, with which he complied. After this, she uttered
a loud shriek, and gave up the ghost. She died on Monday, the 9th day
of February, 1449, about six o'clock in the afternoon, in the fortieth
year of her age.
This account, though bearing every appearance of probability, is yet
open to some doubts, from the manifestation of a tendency, on the part
of Monstrelet, to give a coloring to the event, and to the character
of Agnes Sorel. He even attempts to throw a doubt upon her having been
the king's mistress, treating the fact as a mere scandal. He says that
the affection of the king was attributable to her good sense, her wit,
her agreeable manners, and gayety, quite as much as to her beauty.
This was, no doubt, the case; but it hardly helps the argument of the
historian. Monstrelet finds it difficult, however, to dispose of the
children that she had by the king: he admits that Agnes had a daughter
which she said was the king's, but that he denied it. The compilation
by Denys Codefroy takes the same view, but nearly the whole account is
copied verbatim from Monstrelet, without acknowledgment.
The heart and intestines of Agnes were buried at Jumiege. Her body was
placed in the centre of the choir of the collegiate church of the
Chateau de Loches, which she had greatly enriched.
Her tomb was in existence at Loches, in 1792. It was of black marble.
The figure of Agnes was in white marble; her head resting upon a
lozenge, supported by angels, and two lambs were at her feet.
The writer of the life of Agnes Sorel in the "Biographie Universelle,"
having access to printed books and MSS. of French history which are
not in the public libraries of this country, the following statements
are taken from that work: the writer does not give his authorities.
The canons of the church pretended to be scandalized at having the
tomb of Agnes placed in their choir, and begged permission of Louis
XI. to have it removed. "I consent," replied the king, "provided you
give up all you have received from her bounty."
The poets of the day were profuse in their praises of the memory of
Agnes. One of the most memorable of these is a poem by Baif, printed
at Paris in 1573. In 1789 the library of the chapter of Loches
possessed a manuscript containing nearly a thousand Latin sonnets in
praise of Agnes, all acrostics, and made by a canon of that city.
A marble bust of her was long preserved at the Chateau de Chinon, and
is now placed in the Museum des Augustins.
Agnes Sorel had three daughters by Charles VII., who all received
dowries, and were married at the expense of the crown. They received
the title of daughters of France, the name given at that time to the
natural daughters of the kings. An account of the noble families into
which they married, together with the honors bestowed upon the brother
of Agnes, will be found in Moreri's "Dictionnaire Historique."
From the London Examiner.
PROSPECTS OF AFRICAN COLONIZATION.
Africa has never been propitious to European settlement or
colonization, but quite the contrary. The last founded state of the
Anglo-American Union, of about two years' growth, is alone, at this
moment, worth more than all that has been effected by the European
race in Africa in two-and-twenty centuries. The most respectable
product of African colonization is a Cape boor, and this is certainly
not a finished specimen of humanity. Assuredly, for the last three
hundred years, Africa has done nothing for the nations of Europe but
seduce them into crime, folly, and extravagance.
The Romans were the first European settlers in Africa; it was at their
very door, and they held it for eight centuries. Now, there is not
left in it hardly a trace of Roman civilization; certainly fewer, at
all events, than the Arabs have left in Spain. The Vandal occupation
of Mediterranean Africa lasted only half a century. We should not have
known that Vandals had ever set their feet on the Continent but for
the written records of civilized men. There is nothing Vandal there,
unless Vandalism in the abstract. The Dutch came next, in order of
time, in another portion of Africa, and we have already alluded to the
indistinct "spoor" which they have left behind them after an
occupation of a hundred and fifty years.
The English have settled in two different quarters of the African
continent, one of them within eight degrees of the equatorial line,
and the other some thirty-four south of it. The first costs us civil
establishments, forts, garrisons, and squadrons included (for out of
Africa and its people comes the supposed necessity for the squadron),
a good million a year. The most valuable article we get from tropical
Africa is the oil of a certain palm, which contributes largely towards
an excise duty of about a million and a half a year, levied on what
has been justly called a second necessary of life--to wit, soap.
We have been in possession of the southern promontory of Africa for
above fifty years. In this time, besides its conquest twice over from
a European power, and in addition to fleets and armies, it has cost
us, in mere self-defence against savages, three million pounds, while
at this moment we are engaged in the same kind of defence, with the
tolerable certainty of incurring another million. No one will venture
to say that this sum alone does not far exceed the value of the fee
simple and sovereignty of the southern promontory of Africa. What we
get from it consists chiefly in some purgative aloes, a little
indifferent wool, and a good deal of execrable wine, on the
importation of which we pay a virtual bounty! As for _our subjects_ in
this part of the African continent, they amount to about two hundred
thousand, and are composed of Anglo-Saxons, Dutch, Malays, Hottentots,
Bushmen, Gaikas, Tambookies, Amagarkas, Zulas, and Amazulas, speaking
a very Babel of African, Asiatic, and European tongues, perilous to
delicate organic structures even to listen to.
Now for French African colonization. If we have not been very wise
ourselves, our neighbors, who have never been eminently happy in their
attempts at colonization, have been much less so. They have been in
possession of an immense territory in Algeria for twenty years, and
have now about fifty thousand colonists there, with an army which has
generally not been less than one hundred thousand, so that every
colonist requires two soldiers to keep his throat from being cut, and
his property from being robbed or stolen. This is about ten times the
regular army that protects twenty-eight millions of Anglo-Americans
from nearly all the savages of North America. The local revenue of
Algeria is half a million sterling; but the annual cost of the
experiment to France amounts to eight times as much as the revenue;
and it has been computed that the whole charge to the French nation,
from first to last (it goes on at the same rate), has been sixty
million pounds. This is without exception the most monstrous attempt
at colonization that has ever been made by man. If war should
unfortunately arise with any maritime power, the matter will be still
worse. At least one hundred thousand of the flower of the French army
will then be worse than lost to France. For, pent up as it will be in
a narrow strip of eighty miles broad along the shore of the
Mediterranean, it may be blockaded from the sea by any superior naval
power; and assuredly will be so, from the side of the desert, by a
native one. To hold Algeria is to <DW36> France.
What, then, is the cause of the fatality which has thus ever attended
African colonization by Europeans? In tropical Africa, the heat and
insalubrity, and consequently the total unfitness for European life,
are causes quite sufficient to account for the failure; and the
failure has been eminent with French, Dutch, English, and Danes. But
this will not account for want of success in temperate Africa, whether
beyond the northern or southern tropic. The climate of this last,
especially, is very good; and that of the first being nearly the same
as their own, ought not to be hurtful to the constitutions of southern
Europeans.
Drought, and the intermixture of deserts and wastes of sand with
fertile lands, after the manner of a chess-board, without the
regularity, is, of course, unpropitious to colonization, but cannot
prevent its advancement, as we see by the progress of our Australian
colonies. These causes, however, combined with the character of the
native or congenial inhabitants of the country, have been quite
sufficient to prove insuperable obstacles to a prosperous
colonization. A nomad and wandering population has in fact been
generated, incapable either of advancement or amalgamation, having
just a sufficient knowledge of the arts to be dangerous neighbors, not
capable of being driven to a distance from the settlers, nor likely to
be destroyed by gunpowder or brandy. The lion and shepherd recede
before the white man in southern Africa, but not the Caffir.
The inhabitant of northern Africa, whether Arabian or Numidian, is, in
relation to an European colony, only a more formidable Caffir, from
greater numbers and superior skill. Heretofore, a garrison of five
thousand men at the most has been sufficient to protect the Cape
colony, although six thousand miles distant from England. The
territory of Algeria, of about the same extent, requires about twenty
times that number, although within a day's sail of France. Arab and
Numidian seem to be alike untamable both by position and by race. The
Arabs (and it shows they were capable of better things) were a
civilized and industrious people while in the fair regions of Spain;
driven from it, they have degenerated into little more than predatory
shepherds, or freebooters; but they are only the more formidable to
civilized men on this very account.
What, then, will be the fate of the French and English colonies in
temperate Africa? We confess we can hardly venture to predict.
Assuredly, neither north nor south Africa will ever give birth to a
great or flourishing community, such as North America has done, and as
Australia and New Zealand will certainly do. The Caffirs may possibly
be driven to a distance, after a long course of trouble and expense;
but the Arabs and Kabyles are as inexpungable as the wandering tribes
of Arabia Petraea or Tartary. With them, neither expulsion, nor
extermination, nor amalgamation is practicable. Very likely France and
England will get heartily tired of paying yearly millions for their
unavailable deserts, and there is no knowing what they may be driven
to do in such an extremity. At all events, we may safely assert that
France would have saved sixty millions of pounds, and the interminable
prospect of a proportional annual expenditure, had she confined
herself to the town and fortress of Algiers; and England would have
been richer and wiser, had she kept within the bounds of the original
Dutch colony. The best thing we ourselves can do with our
extra-tropical Africa, is to leave the colonists to govern, and also
to defend themselves from all but enemies by sea: that the French,
unfortunately, cannot do.
MY NOVEL:
OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.
BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON.
_Continued from page 269._
BOOK V.--INITIAL CHAPTER.
"I hope, Pisistratus," said my father, "that you do not intend to be
dull!"
"Heaven forbid, sir! what could make you ask such a question?
_Intend!_ No! if I am dull it is from innocence."
"A very long Discourse upon Knowledge!" said my father; "very long. I
should cut it out!"
I looked upon my father as a Byzantian sage might have looked on a
Vandal. "Cut it out!"
"Stops the action, sir!" said my father, dogmatically.
"Action! But a novel is not a drama."
"No, it is a great deal longer--twenty times as long, I dare say,"
replied Mr. Caxton with a sigh.
"Well, sir--well! I think my Discourse upon Knowledge has much to do
with the subject--is vitally essential to the subject; does not stop
the action--only explains and elucidates the action. And I am
astonished, sir, that you, a scholar, and a cultivator of knowledge--"
"There--there!" cried my father, deprecatingly; "I yield--I yield.
What better could I expect when I set up for a critic! What author
ever lived that did not fly into a passion--even with his own father,
if his father presumed to say--'Cut out!' _Pacem imploro_--"
_Mrs. Caxton._--"My dear Austin, I am sure Pisistratus did not mean to
offend you, and I have no doubt he will take your--"
_Pisistratus_, (hastily.)--"Advice _for the future_, certainly. I will
quicken the action and--"
"Go on with the Novel," whispered Roland, looking up from his eternal
account-book. "We have lost L200 by our barley!"
Therewith I plunged my pen into the ink, and my thoughts into the
"Fair Shadowland."
CHAPTER II.
"Halt!" cried a voice; and not a little surprised was Leonard when the
stranger who had accosted him the preceding evening got into the
chaise.
"Well," said Richard, "I am not the sort of man you expected, eh! Take
time to recover yourself." And with these words Richard drew forth a
book from his pocket, threw himself back, and began to read. Leonard
stole many a glance at the acute, hardy, handsome face of his
companion, and gradually recognized a family likeness to poor John, in
whom, despite age and infirmity, the traces of no common share of
physical beauty were still evident. And, with that quick link in ideas
which mathematical aptitude bestows, the young student at once
conjectured that he saw before him his uncle Richard. He had the
discretion, however, to leave that gentleman free to choose his own
time for introducing himself, and silently revolved the new thoughts
produced by the novelty of his situation. Mr. Richard read with
notable quickness--sometimes cutting the leaves of the book with his
penknife, sometimes tearing them open with his forefinger, sometimes
skipping whole pages altogether. Thus he galloped to the end of the
volume--flung it aside--lighted his cigar, and began to talk.
He put many questions to Leonard relative to his rearing, and
especially to the mode by which he had acquired his education; and
Leonard, confirmed in the idea that he was replying to a kinsman,
answered frankly.
Richard did not think it strange that Leonard should have acquired so
much instruction with so little direct tuition. Richard Avenel himself
had been tutor to himself. He had lived too long with our go-ahead
brethren, who stride the world on the other side the Atlantic with the
seven-leagued boots of the Giant-killer, not to have caught their
glorious fever for reading. But it was for a reading wholly different
from that which was familiar to Leonard. The books he read must be
new; to read old books would have seemed to him going back in the
world. He fancied that new books necessarily contained new ideas--a
common mistake--and our lucky adventurer was the man of his day.
Tired with talking, he at length chucked the book he had run through
to Leonard, and, taking out a pocket-book and pencil, amused himself
with calculations on some detail of his business, after which he fell
into an absorbed train of thought--part pecuniary, part ambitious.
Leonard found the book interesting; it was one of the numerous works,
half-statistic, half-declamatory, relating to the condition of the
working-classes, which peculiarly distinguish our century, and ought
to bind together rich and poor, by proving the grave attention which
modern society bestows upon all that can affect the welfare of the
last.
"Dull stuff--theory--clap-trap," said Richard, rousing himself from
his reverie at last: "it can't interest you."
"All books interest me, I think," said Leonard, "and this especially;
for it relates to the working-class, and I am one of them."
"You were yesterday, but you mayn't be to-morrow," answered Richard
good-humoredly, and patting him on the shoulder. "You see, my lad,
that it is the middle class which ought to govern the country. What
the book says about the ignorance of country magistrates is very good;
but the man writes pretty considerable trash when he wants to regulate
the number of hours a free-born boy should work at a factory--only ten
hours a-day--pooh! and so lose two to the nation! Labor is wealth: and
if we could get men to work twenty-four hours a-day, we should be just
twice as rich. If the march of civilization is to proceed," continued
Richard, loftily, "men, and boys too, must not lie a-bed doing nothing
_all night_, sir." Then with a complacent tone--"We shall get to the
twenty-four hours at last; and, by gad, we must, or we shan't flog the
Europeans as we do now."
On arriving at the inn at which Richard had first made acquaintance
with Mr. Dale, the coach by which he had intended to perform the rest
of the journey was found to be full. Richard continued to perform the
journey in post chaises, not without some grumbling at the expense,
and incessant orders to the postboys to make the best of the way.
"Slow country this, in spite of all its brag," said he--"very slow.
Time is money--they know that in the States; for why, they are all men
of business there. Always slow in a country where a parcel of lazy
idle lords, and dukes, and baronets, seem to think 'time is
pleasure.'"
Towards evening the chaise approached the confines of a very large
town, and Richard began to grow fidgety. His easy cavalier air was
abandoned. He withdrew his legs from the window, out of which they had
been luxuriously dangling; pulled down his waistcoat; buckled more
tightly his stock: it was clear that he was resuming the decorous
dignity that belongs to state. He was like a monarch who, after
travelling happy and incognito, returns to his capital. Leonard
divined at once, that they were nearing their journey's end.
Humble foot-passengers now looked at the chaise, and touched their
hats. Richard returned the salutation with a nod--a nod less gracious
than condescending. The chaise turned rapidly to the left, and stopped
before a smart lodge, very new, very white, adorned with two Doric
columns in stucco, and flanked by a large pair of gates. "Hollo!"
cried the postboy, and cracked his whip.
Two children were playing before the lodge, and some clothes were
hanging out to dry on the shrubs and pales round the neat little
building.
"Hang those brats! they are actually playing," growled Dick. "As I
live, the jade has been washing again! Stop, boy." During this
soliloquy, a good-looking young woman had rushed from the
door--slapped the children, as catching sight of the chaise, they ran
towards the house--opened the gates, and, dropping a curtsey to the
ground, seemed to wish that she could drop into it altogether, so
frightened and so trembling seemed she to shrink from the wrathful
face which the master now put out of the window.
"Did I tell you, or did I not," said Dick, "that I would not have
these horrid disreputable clubs of yours playing just before my lodge
gates?"
"Please, sir--"
"Don't answer me. And did I tell you, or did I not, that the next time
I saw you making a drying-ground of my lilacs, you should go out, neck
and crop--"
"Oh, please, sir--"
"You leave my lodge next Saturday: drive on, boy. The ingratitude and
insolence of those common people are disgraceful to human nature,"
muttered Richard, with an accent of the bitterest misanthropy.
The chaise wheeled along the smoothest and freshest of gravel roads,
and through fields of the finest land, in the highest state of
cultivation. Rapid as was Leonard's survey, his rural eye detected the
signs of a master in the art agronomial. Hitherto he had considered
the Squire's model farm as the nearest approach to good husbandry he
had seen: for Jackeymo's finer skill was developed rather on the
minute scale of market-gardening than what can fairly be called
husbandry. But the Squire's farm was degraded by many old fashioned
notions, and concessions to the whim of the eye, which would not be
found in model farms now-a-days,--large tangled hedgerows, which,
though they constitute one of the beauties most picturesque in old
England, make sad deductions from produce; great trees, overshadowing
the corn, and harboring the birds; little patches of rough sward left
to waste; and angles of woodland running into fields, exposing them to
rabbits, and blocking out the sun. These and such like blots on a
gentleman's agriculture, common-sense and Giacomo had made clear to
the acute comprehension of Leonard. No such faults were perceptible in
Richard Avenel's domain. The fields lay in broad divisions, the hedges
were clipped and narrowed into their proper destination of mere
boundaries. Not a blade of wheat withered under the cold shade of a
tree; not a yard of land lay waste; not a weed was to be seen, not a
thistle to waft its baleful seed through the air: some young
plantations were placed, not where the artist would put them, but just
where the farmer wanted a fence from the wind. Was there no beauty in
this? Yes, there was beauty of its kind--beauty at once recognizable
to the initiated--beauty of use and profit--beauty that could bear a
monstrous high rent. And Leonard uttered a cry of admiration which
thrilled through the heart of Richard Avenel.
"This _is_ farming!" said the villager.
"Well, I guess it is," answered Richard, all his ill-humor vanishing.
"You should have seen the land when I bought it. But we new men, as
they call us--(damn their impertinence)--are the new blood of this
country."
Richard Avenel never said any thing more true. Long may the new blood
circulate through the veins of the mighty giantess; but let the grand
heart be the same as it has beat for proud ages.
The chaise now passed through a pretty shrubbery, and the house came
into gradual view--a house with a portico--all the offices carefully
thrust out of sight.
The postboy dismounted, and rang the bell.
"I almost think they are going to keep me waiting," said Mr. Richard,
well-nigh in the very words of Louis XIV.
But that fear was not realized--the door opened; a well-fed servant
out of livery presented himself. There was no hearty welcoming smile
on his face, but he opened the chaise-door with demure and taciturn
respect.
"Where's George? why does not he come to the door?" asked Richard,
descending from the chaise slowly, and leaning on the servant's
outstretched arm with as much precaution as if he had had the gout.
Fortunately, George here came into sight, settling himself hastily
into his livery coat.
"See to the things, both of you," said Richard, as he paid the
postboy.
Leonard stood on the gravel sweep, gazing at the square white house.
"Handsome elevation--classical, I take it--eh?" said Richard, joining
him. "But you should see the offices."
He then, with familiar kindness, took Leonard by the arm, and drew him
within. He showed him the hall, with a carved mahogany stand for hats;
he showed him the drawing-room, and pointed out its beauties--though
it was summer the drawing-room looked cold, as will look rooms newly
furnished, with walls newly papered, in houses newly built. The
furniture was handsome, and suited to the rank of a rich trader. There
was no pretence about it, and therefore no vulgarity, which is more
than can be said for the houses of many an honorable Mrs. Somebody in
Mayfair, with rooms twelve feet square, chokeful of buhl, that would
have had its proper place in the Tuileries. Then Richard showed him
the library, with mahogany book-cases and plate glass, and the
fashionable authors handsomely bound. Your new men are much better
friends to living authors than your old families who live in the
country, and at most subscribe to a book-club. Then Richard took him
up-stairs, and led him through the bedrooms--all very clean and
comfortable, and with every modern convenience; and, pausing in a very
pretty single gentleman's chamber, said, "This is your den. And now,
can you guess who I am?"
"No one but my Uncle Richard could be so kind," answered Leonard.
But the compliment did not flatter Richard. He was extremely
disconcerted and disappointed. He had hoped that he should be taken
for a lord at least, forgetful of all that he had said in
disparagement of lords.
"Pish!" said he at last, biting his lip--"so you don't think that I
look like a gentleman! Come, now, speak honestly."
Leonard wonderingly saw he had given pain, and with the good breeding
which comes instinctively from good nature, replied--"I judged you by
your heart, sir, and your likeness to my grandfather--otherwise I
should never have presumed to fancy we could be relations."
"Hum!" answered Richard. "You can just wash your hands, and then come
down to dinner; you will hear the gong in ten minutes. There's the
bell--ring for what you want."
With that, he turned on his heel; and, descending the stairs, gave a
look into the dining-room, and admired the plated salver on the
sideboard, and the king's pattern spoons and forks on the table. Then
he walked to the looking-glass over the mantel-piece; and, wishing to
survey the whole effect of his form, mounted a chair. He was just
getting into an attitude which he thought imposing, when the butler
entered, and being London bred, had the discretion to try to escape
unseen; but Richard caught sight of him in the looking-glass, and
up to the temples.
"Jarvis," said he mildly--"Jarvis, put me in mind to have these
inexpressibles altered."
CHAPTER III.
Apropos of the inexpressibles, Mr. Richard did not forget to provide
his nephew with a much larger wardrobe than could have been thrust
into Dr. Riccabocca's knapsack. There was a very good tailor in the
town, and the clothes were very well made. And, but for an air more
ingenuous, and a cheek that, despite study and night vigils, retained
much of the sunburnt bloom of the rustic, Leonard Fairfield might now
have almost passed, without disparaging comment, by the bow-window at
White's. Richard burst into an immoderate fit of laughter when he
first saw the watch which the poor Italian had bestowed upon Leonard;
but, to atone for the laughter, he made him a present of a very pretty
substitute, and bade him "lock up his turnip." Leonard was more hurt
by the jeer at his old patron's gift than pleased by his uncle's. But
Richard Avenel had no conception of sentiment. It was not for many
days that Leonard could reconcile himself to his uncle's manner. Not
that the peasant could pretend to judge of its mere conventional
defects; but there is an ill breeding to which, whatever our rank and
nurture, we are almost equally sensitive--the ill breeding that comes
from want of consideration for others. Now, the Squire was as homely
in his way as Richard Avenel, but the Squire's bluntness rarely hurt
the feelings: and when it did so, the Squire perceived and hastened to
repair his blunder. But Mr. Richard, whether kind or cross, was always
wounding you in some little delicate fibre--not from malice, but from
the absence of any little delicate fibres of his own. He was really,
in many respects, a most excellent man, and certainly a very valuable
citizen. But his merits wanted the fine tints and fluent curves that
constitute beauty of character. He was honest, but sharp in his
practice, and with a keen eye to his interests. He was just, but as a
matter of business. He made no allowances, and did not leave to his
justice the large margin of tenderness and mercy. He was generous, but
rather from an idea of what was due to himself than with much thought
of the pleasure he gave to others; and he even regarded generosity as
a capital put out to interest. He expected a great deal of gratitude
in return, and, when he obliged a man, considered that he had bought a
slave. Every needy voter knew where to come, if he wanted relief or a
loan; but woe to him if he had ventured to express hesitation when Mr.
Avenel told him how he must vote.
In this town Richard had settled after his return from America, in
which country he had enriched himself--first, by spirit and
industry--lastly, by bold speculation and good luck. He invested his
fortune in business--became a partner in a large brewery--soon bought
out his associates--and then took a principal share in a flourishing
corn-mill. He prospered rapidly--bought a property of some two or
three hundred acres, built a house, and resolved to enjoy himself, and
make a figure. He had now become the leading man of the town, and the
boast to Audley Egerton that he could return one of the members,
perhaps both, was by no means an exaggerated estimate of his power.
Nor was his proposition, according to his own views, so unprincipled
as it appeared to the statesman. He had taken a great dislike to both
the sitting members--a dislike natural to a sensible man of modern
politics, who had something to lose. For Mr. Slappe, the active
member--who was head-over-ears in debt--was one of the furious
democrats rare before the Reform Bill--and whose opinions were held
dangerous even by the mass of a liberal constituency; while Mr.
Sleekie, the gentleman member, who laid by L5000 every year from his
dividends in the Funds, was one of those men whom Richard justly
pronounced to be "humbugs"--men who curry favor with the extreme party
by voting for measures sure not to be carried; while, if there were
the least probability of coming to a decision that would lower the
money market, Mr. Sleekie was seized with a well-timed influenza.
Those politicians are common enough now. Propose to march to the
Millennium, and they are your men. Ask them to march a quarter of a
mile, and they fall to feeling their pockets, and trembling for fear
of the footpads. They are never so joyful as when there is no chance
of a victory. Did they beat the Minister, they would be carried out of
the house in a fit.
Richard Avenel--despising both these gentlemen, and not taking kindly
to the Whigs since the great Whig leaders were Lords--looked with a
friendly eye to the Government as it then existed, and especially to
Audley Egerton, the enlightened representative of commerce. But in
giving Audley and his colleagues the benefit of his influence, through
conscience, he thought it all fair and right to have a _quid pro quo_,
and, as he had so frankly confessed, it was his whim to rise up "Sir
Richard." For this worthy citizen abused the aristocracy much on the
same principle as the fair Olivia depreciated Squire Thornhill--he had
a sneaking affection for what he abused. The society of Screwstown
was, like most provincial capitals, composed of two classes--the
commercial and the exclusive. These last dwelt chiefly apart, around
the ruins of an old abbey; they affected its antiquity in their
pedigrees, and had much of its ruin in their finances. Widows of rural
thanes in the neighborhood--genteel spinsters--officers retired on
half-pay--younger sons of rich squires, who had now become old
bachelors--in short, a very respectable, proud, aristocratic set--who
thought more of themselves than do all the Gowers and Howards,
Courtenays and Seymours, put together. It had early been the ambition
of Richard Avenel to be admitted into this sublime coterie; and,
strange to say, he had partially succeeded. He was never more happy
than when he was asked to their card-parties, and never more unhappy
than when he was actually there. Various circumstances combined to
raise Mr. Avenel into this elevated society. First, he was unmarried,
still very handsome, and in that society there was a large proportion
of unwedded females. Secondly, he was the only rich trader in
Screwstown who kept a good cook, and professed to give dinners, and
the half-pay captains and colonels swallowed the host for the sake of
the venison. Thirdly, and principally, all these exclusives abhorred
the two sitting members, and "idem nolle idem velle de republica, ea
firma amicitia est;" that is, congeniality in politics pieces
porcelain and crockery together better than the best diamond cement.
The sturdy Richard Avenel--who valued himself on American
independence--held these ladies and gentlemen in an awe that was truly
Brahminical. Whether it was that, in England, all notions, even of
liberty, are mixed up historically, traditionally, socially, with that
fine and subtle element of aristocracy which, like the press, is the
air we breathe; or whether Richard imagined that he really became
magnetically imbued with the virtues of these silver pennies and gold
seven-shilling pieces, distinct from the vulgar coinage in popular
use, it is hard to say. But the truth must be told--Richard Avenel was
a notable tuft-hunter. He had a great longing to marry out of this
society; but he had not yet seen any one sufficiently high-born and
high-bred to satisfy his aspirations. In the mean while, he had
convinced himself that his way would be smooth could he offer to make
his ultimate choice "My Lady;" and he felt that it would be a proud
hour in his life when he could walk before stiff Colonel Pompley to
the sound of "Sir Richard." Still, however disappointed at the ill
success of his bluff diplomacy with Mr. Egerton, and however yet
cherishing the most vindictive resentment against that individual--he
did not, as many would have done, throw up his political convictions
out of personal spite. He resolved still to favor the ungrateful and
undeserving administration; and as Audley Egerton had acted on the
representations of the mayor and deputies, and shaped his bill to meet
their views, so Avenel and the Government rose together in the popular
estimation of the citizens of Screwstown.
But, duly to appreciate the value of Richard Avenel, and in just
counterpoise to all his foibles, one ought to have seen what he had
effected for the town. Well might he boast of "new blood;" he had done
as much for the town as he had for his fields. His energy, his quick
comprehension of public utility, backed by his wealth, and bold,
bullying, imperious character, had sped the work of civilization as if
with the celerity and force of a steam-engine.
If the town were so well paved and so well lighted--if half-a-dozen
squalid lanes had been transformed into a stately street--if half the
town no longer depended on tanks for their water--if the poor-rates
were reduced one-third,--praise to the brisk new blood which Richard
Avenel had infused into vestry and corporation. And his example itself
was so contagious! "There was not a plate-glass window in the town
when I came into it," said Richard Avenel; "and now look down the High
Street!" He took the credit to himself, and justly; for, though his
own business did not require windows of plate-glass, he had awakened
the spirit of enterprise which adorns a whole city.
Mr. Avenel did not present Leonard to his friends for more than a
fortnight. He allowed him to wear off his rust. He then gave a grand
dinner, at which his nephew was formally introduced, and, to his great
wrath and disappointment, never opened his lips. How could he, poor
youth, when Miss Clarina Mowbray only talked upon high life; till
proud Colonel Pompley went in state through the history of the siege
of Seringapatam.
CHAPTER IV.
While Leonard accustoms himself gradually to the splendors that
surround him, and often turns with a sigh to the remembrance of his
mother's cottage and the sparkling fount in the Italian's flowery
garden, we will make with thee, O reader, a rapid flight to the
metropolis, and drop ourselves amidst the gay groups that loiter along
the dusty ground, or loll over the roadside palings of Hyde Park. The
season is still at its height; but the short day of fashionable London
life, which commences two hours after noon, is in its decline. The
crowd in Rotten Row begins to thin. Near the statue of Achilles, and
apart from all other loungers, a gentleman, with one hand thrust into
his waistcoat, and the other resting on his cane, gazed listlessly on
the horsemen and carriages in the brilliant ring. He was still in the
prime of life, at the age when man is usually the most social--when
the acquaintances of youth have ripened into friendship, and a
personage of some rank and fortune has become a well-known feature in
the mobile face of society. But though, when his contemporaries were
boys scarce at college, this gentleman had blazed foremost amongst the
princes of fashion, and though he had all the qualities of nature and
circumstance which either retain fashion to the last, or exchange its
false celebrity for a graver repute, he stood as a stranger in that
throng of his countrymen. Beauties whirled by to the toilet--statesmen
passed on to the senate--dandies took flight to the clubs; and neither
nods, nor becks, nor wreathed smiles, said to the solitary spectator,
"Follow us--thou art one of our set." Now and then, some middle-aged
beau, nearing the post of the loiterer, turned round to look again;
but the second glance seemed to dissipate the recognition of the
first, and the beau silently continued his way.
"By the tombs of my fathers!" said the solitary to himself, "I know
now what a dead man might feel if he came to life again, and took a
peep at the living."
Time passed on--the evening shades descended fast. Our stranger in
London had well-nigh the Park to himself. He seemed to breathe more
freely as he saw that the space was so clear.
"There's oxygen in the atmosphere now," said he, half aloud; "and I
can walk without breathing in the gaseous fumes of the multitude. O
those chemists--what dolts they are! They tell us crowds taint the
air, but they never guess why! Pah, it is not the lungs that poison
the element--it is the reek of bad hearts. When a periwig-pated fellow
breathes on me, I swallow a mouthful of care. _Allons!_ my friend
Nero; now for a stroll." He touched with his cane a large Newfoundland
dog, who lay stretched near his feet; a dog and man went slow through
the growing twilight, and over the brown dry turf. At length our
solitary paused, and threw himself on a bench under a tree.
"Half-past eight!" said he, looking at his watch--"one may smoke one's
cigar without shocking the world."
He took out his cigar-case, struck a light, and in another moment
reclined at length on the bench--seemed absorbed in regarding the
smoke, that scarce ere it vanished into air.
"It is the most barefaced lie in the world, my Nero," said he,
addressing his dog, "this boasted liberty of man! Now here am I, a
free-born Englishman, a citizen of the world, caring--I often say to
myself--caring not a jot for Kaisar or Mob; and yet I no more dare
smoke this cigar in the Park at half-past six, when all the world is
abroad, than I dare pick my Lord Chancellor's pocket, or hit the
Archbishop of Canterbury a thump on the nose. Yet no law in England
forbids me my cigar, Nero! What is law at half-past eight, was not
crime at six and a-half! Britannia says, 'Man, thou art free,' and she
lies like a commonplace woman. O Nero, Nero! you enviable dog!--you
serve but from liking. No thought of the world costs you one wag of
your tail. Your big heart and true instinct suffice you for reason and
law. You would want nothing to your felicity, if in these moments of
ennui you would but smoke a cigar. Try it, Nero!--try it!" And, rising
from his incumbent posture, he sought to force the end of the weed
between the teeth of the dog.
While thus gravely engaged, two figures had approached the place. The
one was a man who seemed weak and sickly. His threadbare coat was
buttoned to the chin, but hung large on his shrunken breast. The other
was a girl of about fourteen, on whose arm he leant heavily. Her cheek
was wan, and there was a patient sad look on her face, which seemed so
settled that you would think she could never have known the
mirthfulness of childhood.
"Pray rest here, papa," said the child softly; and she pointed to the
bench, without taking heed of its pre-occupant, who now, indeed,
confined to one corner of the seat, was almost hidden by the shadow of
a tree.
The man sat down with a feeble sigh; and then, observing the stranger,
raised his hat, and said in that tone of voice which betrays the
usages of polished society, "Forgive me, if I intrude on you, sir."
The stranger looked up from his dog, and seeing that the girl was
standing, rose at once, as if to make room for her on the bench.
But still the girl did not heed him. She hung over her father, and
wiped his brow tenderly with a little kerchief which she took from her
own neck for the purpose.
Nero, delighted to escape the cigar, had taken to some unwieldy
curvets and gambols, to vent the excitement into which he had been
thrown; and now returning, approached the bench with a low look of
surprise, and sniffed at the intruders on his master's privacy.
"Come here, sir," said the master. "You need not fear him," he added,
addressing himself to the girl.
But the girl, without turning round to him, cried in a voice rather of
anguish than alarm, "He has fainted! Father! father!"
The stranger kicked aside his dog, which was in the way, and loosened
the poor man's stiff military stock. While thus charitably engaged,
the moon broke out, and the light fell full on the pale care-worn face
of the unconscious sufferer.
"This face seems not unfamiliar to me, though sadly changed," said the
stranger to himself; and bending towards the girl, who had sunk on her
knees and was chafing her father's hands, he asked, "My child, what is
your father's name?"
The child continued her task, too absorbed to answer.
The stranger put his hand on her shoulder, and repeated the question.
"Digby," answered the child, almost unconsciously; and as she spoke,
the man's senses began to return. In a few minutes more he had
sufficiently recovered to falter forth his thanks to the stranger. But
the last took his hand, and said, in a voice at once tremulous and
soothing, "Is it possible that I see once more an old brother in arms?
Algernon Digby, I do not forget you; but it seems England has
forgotten!"
A hectic flush spread over the soldier's face, and he looked away from
the speaker as he answered--
"My name is Digby, it is true, sir; but I do not think we have met
before. Come, Helen, I am well now--we will go home."
"Try and play with that great dog, my child," said the stranger--"I
want to talk with your father."
The child bowed her submissive head, and moved away; but she did not
play with the dog.
"I must re-introduce myself, formally, I see," quoth the stranger.
"You were in the same regiment with myself, and my name is
L'Estrange."
"My lord," said the soldier, rising, "forgive me that--"
"I don't think that it was the fashion to call me 'my lord' at the
mess-table. Come, what has happened to you?--on half pay?"
Mr. Digby shook his head mournfully.
"Digby, old fellow, can you lend me L100?" said Lord L'Estrange,
clapping his _ci-devant_ brother officer on the shoulder, and in a
tone of voice that seemed like a boy's--so impudent was it and
devil-me-carish. "No! Well, that's lucky, for I can lend it to you."
Mr. Digby burst into tears.
Lord L'Estrange did not seem to observe the emotion. "We were both sad
extravagant fellows in our day," said he, "and I dare say I borrowed
of you pretty freely."
"Me! Oh, Lord L'Estrange?"
"You have married since then, and reformed, I suppose. Tell me, old
friend, all about it."
Mr. Digby, who by this time had succeeded in restoring some calm to
his shattered nerves, now rose, and said in brief sentences, but clear
firm tones,--
"My Lord, it is idle to talk of me--useless to help me. I am fast
dying. But, my child there, my only child, (he paused an instant, and
went on rapidly.) I have relations in a distant country, if I could
but get to them--I think they would at least provide for her. This has
been for weeks my hope, my dream, my prayer. I cannot afford the
journey except by your help. I have begged without shame for myself;
shall I be ashamed, then, to beg for her?"
"Digby," said L'Estrange with some grave alteration of manner, "talk
neither of dying, nor begging. You were nearer death when the balls
whistled round you at Waterloo. If soldier meets soldier and says,
'Friend, thy purse,' it is not begging, but brotherhood. Ashamed! By
the soul of Belisarius! if I needed money, I would stand at a crossing
with my Waterloo medal over my breast, and say to each sleek citizen I
had helped to save from the sword of the Frenchman, 'It is your shame
if I starve.' Now, lean upon me; I see you should be at home--which
way?"
The poor soldier pointed his hand towards Oxford Street, and
reluctantly accepted the proffered arm.
"And when you return from your relations, you will call on me?
What!--hesitate? Come, promise."
"I will."
"On your honor."
"If I live, on my honor."
"I am staying at present at Knightsbridge, with my father; but you
will always hear of my address at No. -- Grosvenor Square, Mr.
Egerton's. So you have a long journey before you?"
"Very long."
"Do not fatigue yourself--travel slowly. Ho, you foolish child!--I see
you are jealous of me. Your father has another arm to spare you."
Thus talking, and getting but short answers, Lord L'Estrange continued
to exhibit those whimsical peculiarities of character, which had
obtained for him the repute of heartlessness in the world. Perhaps the
reader may think the world was not in the right. But if ever the world
does judge rightly of the character of a man who does not live for the
world, nor talk of the world, nor feel with the world, it will be
centuries after the soul of Harley L'Estrange has done with this
planet.
CHAPTER V.
Lord L'Estrange parted company with Mr. Digby at the entrance of
Oxford Street. The father and child there took a cabriolet. Mr. Digby
directed the driver to go down the Edgeware Road. He refused to tell
L'Estrange his address, and this with such evident pain, from the
sores of pride, that L'Estrange could not press the point. Reminding
the soldier of his promise to call, Harley thrust a pocket-book into
his hand, and walked off hastily towards Grosvenor Square.
He reached Audley Egerton's door just as that gentleman was getting
out of his carriage; and the two friends entered the house together.
"Does the nation take a nap to-night?" asked L'Estrange. "Poor old
lady! She hears so much of her affairs, that she may well boast of her
constitution: it must be of iron."
"The House is still sitting," answered Audley seriously, and with
small heed of his friend's witticism. "But it is not a Government
motion, and the division will be late, so I came home; and if I had
not found you here, I should have gone into the park to look for you."
"Yes--one always knows where to find me at this hour, 9 o'clock
P.M.--cigar--Hyde Park. There is not a man in England so regular in
his habits."
Here the friends reached a drawing-room in which the member of
Parliament seldom sat, for his private apartments were all on the
ground floor.
"But it is the strangest whim of yours, Harley," said he.
"What?"
"To affect detestation of ground-floors."
"Affect! O sophisticated man, of the earth, earthy! Affect!--nothing
less natural to the human soul than a ground-floor. We are quite far
enough from heaven, mount as many stairs as we will, without
grovelling by preference."
"According to that symbolical view of the case," said Audley, "you
should lodge in an attic."
"So I would, but that I abhor new slippers. As for hair-brushes, I am
indifferent!"
"What have slippers and hair-brushes to do with attics?"
"Try! Make your bed in an attic, and the next morning you will have
neither slippers nor hair-brushes!"
"What shall I have done with them?"
"Shied them at the cats!"
"What odd things you do say, Harley!"
"Odd! By Apollo and his nine spinsters! there is no human being who
has so little imagination as a distinguished Member of Parliament.
Answer me this, thou solemn right honorable--Hast thou climbed to the
heights of august contemplation? Hast thou gazed on the stars with the
rapt eye of song? Hast thou dreamed of a love known to the angels, or
sought to seize in the Infinite the mystery of life?"
"Not I indeed, my poor Harley."
"Then no wonder, poor Audley, that you cannot conjecture why he who
makes his bed in an attic, disturbed by base catterwauls, shies his
slippers at cats. Bring a chair into the balcony. Nero spoiled my
cigar to-night. I am going to smoke now. You never smoke. You can look
on the shrubs in the Square."
Audley slightly shrugged his shoulders, but he followed his friend's
counsel and example, and brought his chair into the balcony. Nero
came too, but at sight and smell of the cigar prudently retreated, and
took refuge under the table.
"Audley Egerton, I want something from Government."
"I am delighted to hear it."
"There was a cornet in my regiment, who would have done better not to
have come into it. We were, for the most part of us, puppies and
<DW2>s."
"You all fought well, however."
"Puppies and <DW2>s do fight well. Vanity and valor generally go
together. Caesar, who scratched his head with due care of his scanty
curls, and, even in dying, thought of the folds in his toga; Walter
Raleigh, who could not walk twenty yards, because of the gems in his
shoes; Alcibiades, who lounged into the Agora with doves in his bosom,
and an apple in his hand; Murat, bedizened in gold lace and furs; and
Demetrius, the City-Taker, who made himself up like a French
_Marquise_,--were all pretty good fellows at fighting. A slovenly hero
like Cromwell is a paradox in nature, and a marvel in history. But to
return to my cornet. We were rich; he was poor. When the pot of clay
swims down the stream with the brass-pots, it is sure of a smash. Men
said Digby was stingy; I saw he was extravagant. But every one, I
fear, would be rather thought stingy than poor. _Bref._--I left the
army, and saw him no more till to-night. There was never shabby poor
gentleman on the stage more awfully shabby, more pathetically
gentleman. But, look ye, this man has fought for England. It was no
child's play at Waterloo, let me tell you, Mr. Egerton; and, but for
such men, you would be at best a _sous-prefet_, and your Parliament a
Provincial Assembly. You must do something for Digby. What shall it
be?"
"Why, really, my dear Harley, this man was no great friend of
yours--eh?"
"If he were, he would not want the Government to help him--he would
not be ashamed of taking money from me."
"That is all very fine, Harley; but there are so many poor officers,
and so little to give. It is the most difficult thing in the world
that which you ask me. Indeed, I know nothing can be done: he has his
half-pay?"
"I think not; or, if he has it, no doubt it all goes on his debts.
That's nothing to us: the man and his child are starving."
"But if it is his own fault--if he has been imprudent?"
"Ah--well, well; where the devil is Nero?"
"I am so sorry I can't oblige you. If it were any thing else--"
"There is something else. My valet--I can't turn him adrift--excellent
fellow, but gets drunk now and then. Will you find him a place in the
Stamp Office?"
"With pleasure."
"No, now I think of it--the man knows my ways: I must keep him. But my
old wine-merchant--civil man, never dunned--is a bankrupt. I am under
great obligations to him, and he has a very pretty daughter. Do you
think you could thrust him into some small place in the colonies, or
make him a King's Messenger, or something of the sort?"
"If you very much wish it, no doubt I can."
"My dear Audley, I am but feeling my way: the fact is, I want
something for myself."
"Ah, that indeed gives me pleasure!" cried Egerton, with animation.
"The mission to Florence will soon be vacant--I know it privately. The
place would quite suit me. Pleasant city; the best figs in Italy--very
little to do. You could sound Lord ---- on the subject."
"I will answer beforehand. Lord ----would be enchanted to secure to
the public service a man so accomplished as yourself, and the son of a
peer like Lord Lansmere."
Harley L'Estrange sprang to his feet, and flung his cigar in the face
of a stately policeman who was looking up at the balcony.
"Infamous and bloodless official!" cried Harley L'Estrange; "so you
could provide for a pimple-nosed lackey--for a wine-merchant who has
been poisoning the king's subjects with white-lead or sloe-juice--for
an idle sybarite, who would complain of a crumpled rose-leaf; and
nothing, in all the vast patronage of England, for a broken down
soldier, whose dauntless breast was her rampart!"
"Harley," said the member of Parliament, with his calm, sensible
smile, "this would be a very good clap-trap at a small theatre; but
there is nothing in which Parliament demands such rigid economy as the
military branch of the public service; and no man for whom it is so
hard to effect what we must plainly call a job, as a subaltern
officer, who has done nothing more than his duty--and all military men
do that. Still, as you take it so earnestly, I will use what interest
I can at the War Office, and get him, perhaps, the mastership of a
barrack."
"You had better; for if you do not, I swear I will turn radical, and
come down to your own city to oppose you, with Hunt and Cobbett to
canvass for me."
"I should be very glad to see you come into Parliament, even as a
radical, and at my expense," said Audley, with great kindness. "But
the air is growing cold, and you are not accustomed to our climate.
Nay, if you are too poetic for catarrhs and rheums, I'm not--come in."
CHAPTER VI.
Lord L'Estrange threw himself on a sofa, and leant his cheek on his
hand thoughtfully. Audley Egerton sat near him, with his arms folded,
and gazed on his friend's face with a soft expression of aspect, which
was very unusual to the firm outline of his handsome features. The two
men were as dissimilar in person as the reader will have divined that
they were in character. All about Egerton was so rigid, all about
L'Estrange so easy. In every posture of Harley there was the
unconscious grace of a child. The very fashion of his garments showed
his abhorrence of restraint. His clothes were wide and loose, his
neckcloth tied carelessly, left his throat half bare. You could see
that he had lived much in warm and southern lands, and contracted a
contempt for conventionalities; there was as little in his dress as in
his talk of the formal precision of the north. He was three or four
years younger than Audley, but he looked at least twelve years
younger. In fact, he was one of those men to whom old age seems
impossible--voice, look, figure, had all the charm of youth; and,
perhaps, it was from this gracious youthfulness--at all events, it was
characteristic of the kind of love he inspired--that neither his
parents, nor the few friends admitted into his intimacy, ever called
him, in their habitual intercourse, by the name of his title. He was
not L'Estrange with them, he was Harley; and by that familiar
baptismal I will usually designate him. He was not one of those men
whom author or reader wish to view at a distance, and remember as "my
lord"--it was so rarely that he remembered it himself. For the rest,
it had been said of him by a shrewd wit--"He is so natural, that every
one calls him affected." Harley L'Estrange was not so critically
handsome as Audley Egerton; to a commonplace observer he was, at best,
rather good-looking than otherwise. But women said that he had a
beautiful countenance, and they were not wrong. He wore his hair,
which was of a fair chestnut, long, and in loose curls; and instead of
the Englishman's whiskers, indulged in the foreigner's moustache. His
complexion was delicate, though not effeminate; it was rather the
delicacy of a student than of a woman. But in his clear gray eye there
was wonderful vigor of life. A skilful physiologist, looking only into
that eye, would have recognized rare stamina of constitution--a nature
so rich that, while easily disturbed, it would require all the effects
of time, or all the fell combinations of passion and grief, to exhaust
it. Even now, though so thoughtful, and even so sad, the rays of that
eye were as concentred and stedfast as the light of the diamond.
"You were only, then, in jest," said Audley, after a long silence,
"when you spoke of this mission to Florence. You have still no idea of
entering into public life.
"None."
"I had hoped better things when I got your promise to pass one season
in London. But, indeed, you have kept your promise to the ear to break
it to the spirit. I could not presuppose that you would shun all
society, and be as much of a hermit here as under the vines of Como."
"I have sat in the Strangers' Gallery, and heard your great speakers;
I have been in the pit of the opera, and seen your fine ladies; I have
walked your streets, I have lounged in your parks, and I say that I
can't fall in love with a faded dowager, because she fills up her
wrinkles with rouge."
"Of what dowager do you speak?" asked the matter-of-fact Audley.
"She has a great many titles. Some people call her fashion, you busy
men, politics: it is all one--tricked out and artificial. I mean
London life. No, I can't fall in love with her, fawning old harridan!"
"I wish you could fall in love with something."
"I wish I could, with all my heart."
"But you are so _blase_."
"On the contrary, I am so fresh. Look out of the window--what do you
see?"
"Nothing!"
"Nothing--"
"Nothing but houses and dusty lilacs, my coachman dozing on his box,
and two women in pattens crossing the kennel."
"I see none of that where I lie on the sofa. I see but the stars. And
I feel for them as I did when I was a schoolboy at Eton. It is you who
are _blase_, not I--enough of this. You do not forget my commission,
with respect to the exile who has married into your brother's family?"
"No; but here you set me a task more difficult than that of saddling
your cornet on the War Office."
"I know it is difficult, for the counter influence is vigilant and
strong; but, on the other hand, the enemy is so damnable a traitor
that one must have the Fates and the household gods on one's side."
"Nevertheless," said the practical Audley, bending over a book on the
table, "I think that the best plan would be to attempt a compromise
with the traitor."
"To judge of others by myself," answered Harley with spirit, "it were
less bitter to put up with wrong than to palter with it for
compensation. And such wrong! Compromise with the open foe--that may
be done with honor; but with the perjured friend--that were to forgive
the perjury."
"You are too vindictive," said Egerton; "there may be excuses for the
friend, which palliate even--"
"Hush! Audley, hush! or I shall think the world has indeed corrupted
you. Excuse for the friend who deceives, who betrays! No, such is the
true outlaw of Humanity; and the Furies surround him even while he
sleeps in the temple."
The man of the world lifted his eye slowly on the animated face of one
still natural enough for the passions. He then once more returned to
his book, and said, after a pause, "It is time you should marry,
Harley."
"No," answered L'Estrange, with a smile at this sudden turn in the
conversation--"not time yet; for my chief objection to that change in
life is, that all the women now-a-days are too old for me, or I am too
young for them; a few, indeed, are so infantine that one is ashamed
to be their toy; but most are so knowing that one is a fool to be
their dupe. The first, if they condescend to love you, love you as the
biggest doll they have yet dandled, and for a doll's good
qualities--your pretty blue eyes, and your exquisite millinery. The
last, if they prudently accept you, do so on algebraical principles;
you are but the X or the Y that represents a certain aggregate of
goods matrimonial--pedigree, title, rent-roll, diamonds, pin-money,
opera-box. They cast you up with the help of mamma, and you wake some
morning to find that _plus_ wife _minus_ affection equals--the Devil!"
"Nonsense," said Audley, with his quiet grave laugh. "I grant that it
is often the misfortune of a man in your station to be married rather
for what he has, than for what he is; but you are tolerably
penetrating, and not likely to be deceived in the character of the
woman you court."
"Of the woman I _court_?--No! But of the woman I _marry_, very likely
indeed. Woman is a changeable thing, as our Virgil informed us at
school; but her change _par excellence_ is from the fairy you woo to
the brownie you wed. It is not that she has been a hypocrite,
it is that she is a transmigration. You marry a girl for her
accomplishments. She paints charmingly, or plays like St. Cecilia.
Clap a ring on her finger, and she never draws again--except perhaps
your caricature on the back of a letter, and never opens a piano after
the honeymoon. You marry her for her sweet temper; and next year, her
nerves are so shattered that you can't contradict her but you are
whirled into a storm of hysterics. You marry her because she declares
she hates balls and likes quiet; and ten to one but what she becomes a
patroness at Almacks, or a lady in waiting."
"Yet most men marry, and most men survive the operation."
"If it were only necessary to live, that would be a consolatory and
encouraging reflection. But to live with peace, to live with dignity,
to live with freedom, to live in harmony with your thoughts, your
habits, your aspirations--and this in the perpetual companionship of a
person to whom you have given the power to wound your peace, to assail
your dignity, to <DW36> your freedom, to jar on each thought and each
habit, and bring you down to the meanest details of earth, when you
invite her, poor soul, to soar to the spheres--that makes the to be,
or not to be, which is the question."
"If I were you, Harley, I would do as I have heard the author of
_Sandford and Merton_ did--choose out a child, and educate her
yourself after your own heart."
"You have hit it," answered Harley, seriously. "That has long been my
idea--a very vague one, I confess. But I fear I shall be an old man
before I find even the child."
"Ah," he continued, yet more earnestly, while the whole character of
his varying countenance changed again--"ah! if indeed I could discover
what I seek--one who with the heart of a child has the mind of a
woman; one who beholds in nature the variety, the charm, the never
feverish, ever healthful excitement that others vainly seek in the
bastard sentimentalities of a life false with artificial forms; one
who can comprehend, as by intuition, the rich poetry with which
creation is clothed--poetry so clear to the child when enraptured with
the flower, or when wondering at the star? If on me such exquisite
companionship were bestowed--why, then"--he paused, sighed deeply,
and, covering his face with his hand, resumed in faltering accents,--
"But once--but once only, did such vision of the Beautiful made human
rise before me--amidst 'golden exhalations of the dawn.' It beggared
my life in vanishing. You know only--you only--how--how"--
He bowed his head, and the tears forced themselves through his
clenched fingers.
"So long ago!" said Audley, sharing his friend's emotion. "Years so
long and so weary, yet still thus tenacious of a mere boyish memory."
"Away with it, then!" cried Harley, springing to his feet, and with a
laugh of strange merriment. "Your carriage still waits; set me home
before you go to the House."
Then laying his hand lightly on his friend's shoulder, he said, "Is it
for you, Audley Egerton, to speak sneeringly of boyish memories? What
else is it that binds us together? What else warms my heart when I
meet you? What else draws your thoughts from blue-books and
beer-bills, to waste them on a vagrant like me? Shake hands. Oh,
friend of my boyhood! recollect the oars that we plied and the bats
that we wielded in the old time, or the murmured talk on the
moss-grown bank, as we sat together, building in the summer air
castles mightier than Windsor. Ah! they are strong ties, those boyish
memories, believe me! I remember as if it were yesterday my
translation of that lovely passage in Perseus, beginning--let me
see--ah!--
"Quum primum pavido custos mihi purpura cessit,"
that passage on friendship which gushes out so livingly from the stern
heart of the satirist. And when old ---- complimented me on my verses,
my eye sought yours. Verily, I now say as then,
"Nescio quod, certe est quod me tibi temperet astrum."[8]
Audley turned away his head as he returned the grasp of his friend's
hand; and while Harley, with his light elastic footstep, descended the
stairs, Egerton lingered behind, and there was no trace of the worldly
man upon his countenance when he took his place in the carriage by his
companion's side.
Two hours afterwards, weary cries of "Question, question!" "Divide,
divide!" sank into reluctant silence as Audley Egerton rose to
conclude the debate--the man of men to speak late at night, and to
impatient benches: a man who would be heard; whom a Bedlam broke loose
would not have roared down; with a voice clear and sound as a bell,
and a form as firmly set on the ground as a church-tower. And while,
on the dullest of dull questions, Audley Egerton thus, not too lively
himself, enforced attention, where was Harley L'Estrange? Standing
alone by the river at Richmond, and murmuring low fantastic thoughts
as he gazed on the moonlit tide.
When Audley left him at home, he had joined his parents, made them gay
with his careless gayety, seen the old-fashioned folks retire to rest,
and then--while they, perhaps, deemed him once more the hero of
ball-rooms and the cynosure of clubs--he drove slowly through the soft
summer night, amidst the perfumes of many a garden and many a gleaming
chestnut grove, with no other aim before him than to reach the
loveliest margin of England's loveliest river, at the hour the moon
was fullest and the song of the nightingale most sweet. And so
eccentric a humorist was this man, that I believe, as he there
loitered--no one near to cry "How affected!" or "How romantic!"--he
enjoyed himself more than if he had been exchanging the politest
"how-d'ye-do's" in the hottest of London drawing-rooms, or betting his
hundreds on the odd trick with Lord de R---- for his partner.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] "What was the star I know not, but certainly some star it was that
attuned me unto thee."
From the London Examiner.
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.
There is one country which is not represented at the Great Exhibition,
one power which refused to send any specimens of its produce, lest the
having done so should be considered as a tribute to the commercial
greatness of England, and lest exhibitors and exhibited should incur
contamination by contact with specimens of the world's industry. One
is not sorry that this should be the case, and that the felon power of
Europe should have thus passed judgment on itself, and of its own
accord placed itself in Coventry.
The country we allude to is Naples. The horror which the king
entertains of any thing constitutional since his Majesty took the oath
to his own constitution, and since he hanged those who committed the
same crime without afterwards perjuring themselves after the royal
example, has induced him to prohibit the sending of any specimens to
London. Naples, to be sure, has little to exhibit. Industry in that
country, so blessed by nature, has been crushed and annihilated by the
hand of tyranny. Sulphur and other volcanic products, wine which
science has never enabled to bear exportation, silk in its _brut_
state, with some coarse fabrics of cloth and linen, and hats in
imitation of Tuscany, compose all the industry of one of the finest
countries in Europe. No marvel, therefore, it should have shrunk upon
any pretence from occupying a booth at the Great Exhibition.
A very different place in that great show is held by Piedmont, which
has furnished a large assortment of raw materials and manufactured
articles. On the other hand, Florence and Venice are far, we fear,
from even keeping up a shadow of their old reputation. The country of
Benvenuto Cellini has lost the gift of the arts with that of freedom;
and the manufactures with which Venice used to pay for the merchandise
of the East are no more. Strange to say, however, Milan supplies one
of the most interesting and perfect compartments of the Exhibition,
that of small sculptures, in which the youth of the region are so
skilled as to distance all competition.
The United States must be held to have furnished far less valuable
specimens of either art or nature than might have been expected; and
this will be the more evident, as its stall occupies the great
compartment of the Exhibition adjoining the eastern entrance, and
first meeting the eye. France and Germany, especially North Germany,
hold their ground well. One thing, however, seems certain, and the
more remarkable as it was not altogether expected, which is, that
England is not inferior to her competitors in any department. That her
machinery, and the results of her science and skill in working in
metals should distance all competition, might have been looked for.
But what will greatly astonish people, is her very signal success in
so many departments of the ornamental: and whilst of natural
productions her various colonies have supplied specimens the most
novel and most startling, the produce of the looms as well as of the
mines of Indostan offer among the most novel and interesting sights
that the curious could flock to see.
In a general way it is not yet possible to guess what effect the
Exhibition is likely to have. So many persons will crowd to it with
widely different views, that it is extremely difficult to sum up its
probable impression on the whole. But we believe that those most
gratified will be scientific persons, who can see and compare for the
first time all raw materials and all finished productions gathered
together under the same roof. It is, indeed, as a creator of new
combinations and of new ideas, that the Great Exhibition must in any
permanent sense be chiefly valuable; for it is hardly conceivable but
that many most startling inventions in art manufacture must ultimately
spring from it. But these will be silent enjoyments, and for a long
time secret profits. Those on whose fertile minds the good seed of new
ideas may fall, will silently cherish and allow them to germ in the
shade, and years may elapse ere we see the growth or the fruit. What
meanwhile we may count upon hearing most of for the moment will be the
enjoyment of the curious at the view of the Koh-i-noor, and the other
mere sight-wonders of the Exhibition.
Let us add that not the least pleasure of this kind is the view which
each race of the human family will be enabled to take of the other.
The crowds now brought together are essentially, the greater part of
them, of the middle and artisan class, although it may be generally of
those already successful and enriched. This is a kind of people that
would never have come amongst us but upon an occasion such as the
present, and whom to see and be seen by, cannot but be productive of
large, friendly, humane, cosmopolitan results.
From Leigh Hunt's Journal.
DR. DAVID STRAUSS IN WEIMAR.
The Visitor's Book of the Elephant Hotel in Weimar contains, under the
date of the 12th August, a rather remarkable autograph, which the
curious collector would do well to buy, if possible, or, if not
possible, then to beg or steal. Perhaps, among the many distinguished
names which the long series of _Fremdenbuecher_ kept at Weimar during
the last fifty years must necessarily exhibit, there are few to which
an earnest, thinking man would attach the same profound, though
somewhat painful degree of interest. It is the name of "_Dr. David
Strauss, aus Ludwigsburg_," written by himself.
"How!" you exclaim in a mingled tone of surprise and incredulity, "Dr.
Strauss in Weimar? David Strauss among the pilgrims to the tomb of the
poets?"
It does sound apocryphal--_mythical_, if you will. One would almost as
soon expect to hear of the late Dr. Jordan Faust himself paying a
visit to the ghost of Goethe. Nevertheless, and in spite of all that
learned critics, a thousand years hence, may advance and prove to the
contrary, a veritable fact it is, Strauss actually has been among
us--has been seen here in the body during several days by several
witnesses, the present writer being one.
It is my intention here briefly to record the impression which I still
retain of my transient intercourse with this celebrated man. Such a
record can scarce be considered as a breach of confidence, an invasion
of the sacred domains of private life: the author of the "_Leben
Jesu_" is a public, I had almost said, an historical character.
Up to his arrival in Weimar, my relation to Strauss had been merely of
that mystic, invisible, and impersonal description, which usually
subsists between a gifted writer and his readers. But even before I
knew the language, and, by consequence, before I could read the works
of Strauss, I had heard much and often of the young Tubingen
theologian, who, at the age of twenty-seven years, with all the moral
courage of a Luther, all the critical skill, and more than all the
learning of a Lessing, had arisen and _implicitly_ declared to the
whole German nation, and to the world at large, that their belief
rested on a false basis (in his opinion).
Though educated in a country where every man reads and reverences his
Bible, I had likewise arrived at that, in every sense, _critical_
period, which is, I suppose, common to all men of an inquiring
disposition. I, too, had eaten of the fruit of the tree of
knowledge--had become as a god in my own conceit, knowing good from
evil. I had passed through the French and English schools of
skepticism, with my orthodoxy, if not intact, at least not vitally
injured. To study Strauss, therefore, seemed a mere matter of course.
Well; I read his celebrated work. It contained nothing absolutely new,
either in assertion or opinion. I had met with the same or similar
elsewhere. And yet the very same _wooden_ arguments I had so often
smiled at in the writings of the French and English free-thinkers,
seemed here to annihilate me. In vain I said to myself, "they are
still wooden!" Strauss had so sheathed and bound them with his triple
fold of _brass_. In other words, had so supported and confirmed them
with his unheard-of array of learning, logic, and science; that
nothing, I thought, could resist them. It seemed as if the world-old,
hereditary feud between faith and reason were here to be terminated
for ever. As I read, the solid earth seemed to be giving way beneath
me; and when I at length closed the ominous volume, I could have
almost cried out with the chorus in Faust: "Woe! woe! thou hast
shattered the lovely world!"
It is unusual, I believe, to speak out these bosom secrets in this
way; but I thought it necessary to give you this, by no means
exaggerated description of my first spiritual encounter with the
author of the _Leben Jesu_, in order that you might have some idea of
the feelings with which, on the third morning after his arrival in
Weimar, I received and read the following whimsical note:
_Weimar_, 15th August.
"A. S. requests the pleasure of Mr. M----'s company to-day,
at two o'clock, to soup and Strauss."
How busily my fancy was employed the whole of that forenoon, I need
not stop here to tell. Enough, that of all the various pictures she
then drew for me, not one resembled the pale, the slightly made, and,
but for a partial stoop, the somewhat tall, half-lay, half-clerical
figure in spectacles, to whom I was presented on arriving at my
friend's apartments. This was Strauss himself, whose portrait I may as
well go on and finish here at once as well as I can, and so have done
with externals.
Judging from appearance, Strauss's age might be any where between
forty and fifty. But for his light brown, glossy hair, I should have
said nearer the latter than the former. I have since ascertained,
however, that he is, or was then, exactly forty-one years of age. His
head is the very contrary of massive,--as, indeed, his whole figure is
the opposite of robust or muscular. But it--the head--is of a purely
classical form, having none of those bumps and extravagant
protuberances, which phrenologists delight in. His profile, in
particular, might be called truly Grecian, were it not for the thin
and somewhat pinched lips, which give it an almost ascetical
character. Strange enough, too, this same character of ascetism, or
something akin to it, seems likewise indicated by a peculiar
expression in his otherwise fine, dark-brown eyes. It is not a squint,
as at first sight it appears, but a frequent turning-upward of the
eye-balls, like a Methodist at his devotions, which, in Strauss's
case, is of course involuntary. Perhaps it is to conceal this slight
blemish that he wears spectacles, for his large and lustrous eyes did
not else appear to need them. I have said that Strauss was slightly
made; and, in fact, this is so much the case as to suggest the idea of
a consumptive habit. Nor do his narrow shoulders and hollow breast,
together with a certain swinging serpentine gait when he walks, seem
to contradict the supposition. I have little more to add to this
feeble sketch of Strauss's outward man; for it would, I suppose, be
too trifling a circumstance to mention that I had seldom seen a more
_thorough-bred_ hand and foot than his!
My entrance had interrupted a conversation, which Strauss presently
resumed, and which proved to be on the eternal topic of politics. His
voice was strong and deep, but he spoke (and it seemed to be a habit
with him) in a subdued tone, and with a very decided Wurtemberg
accent. I was surprised at some of the high-Tory opinions to which he
gave utterance. I had not expected to find the author of the _Leben
Jesu_ on the Conservative side of any question. It seemed
inconsistent. But I recollected that the man was now on the wrong side
of forty; and I could not help thinking that if, instead of publishing
his destructive book at the age of twenty-seven, he had waited with it
till now, he might possibly have postponed it altogether. At table,
our talk was of the usual commonplace description; and it may be worth
while observing, that even Strauss could be commonplace with as good a
grace as any. Our host and he had, it seems, been fellow-students
together, and, of course, there was no want of anecdotes and
reminiscences of those early days, all of which appeared to give him
exquisite pleasure. In particular, I remember that he spoke with much
fervor of the fine mountain scenery in the neighborhood of Heidelberg;
and when a friendly discussion arose amongst us as to whether the
mountains or the ocean were the sublimer spectacle, Strauss argued
warmly in favor of the former. Some one (myself, I believe) happening
to say that, like Goethe and Schiller, they were both _superlative_,
and not to be _compared_--"Bravo!" cried Strauss, and good humoredly
gave up his position. The conversation now naturally turned upon
Goethe, and upon all the localities in and about Weimar, connected
with his memory. Like a pious pilgrim, as he was, Strauss, as I found,
had already been to all these places, with the exception of the
garden-house and garden. It was proposed to conduct him thither
immediately.
The extreme and almost primitive simplicity of the house in which
Goethe had spent some of the happiest days of his life, seemed to
astonish Strauss. He made few remarks to that effect, however, but
there was no end to his eager questionings. He touched the walls, the
doors, the locks--whatever it might be supposed Goethe had touched. He
peeped into every corner, scrutinized even the minutest details; and
all this with the utmost outward composure, so that, if I had not
closely watched him, it might have escaped my notice! In the garden, I
showed him Goethe's favorite walk, and some oaks and firs planted by
the poet's own hand. He gathered an oak-leaf, and put it in his
pocket-book. He did the same by the flower of a hollyhock, the only
kind of flower remaining, which plant I knew for certain dated its
existence from the time of Goethe. The pocket-book was already full of
such relics. From this time forth, therefore, let no man say that
Strauss is devoid of veneration! Man was made for adoration. He cannot
help it. Pity, only, that he sometimes mistakes the object of it.
In the mean while Strauss and I had somehow drawn nearer to each
other, and had begun to hold little dialogues apart together. We
talked of England, where he had never been,--of English literature,
which he knew chiefly through the medium of translation. Shakspeare of
course was duly discussed,--for, like all educated Germans, Strauss
was an enthusiast about Shakspeare. He asked me if I had read
Gervinus's new work, and was evidently pleased with the way in which I
spoke of it. By-and-by I ventured to allude to the _Leben Jesu_. It
was not without considerable hesitation. He seemed, I think, to enjoy
my embarrassment,--and told me he had seen several specimens of an
English translation of the _Leben Jesu_, which a young lady, a Miss
Brabant, was preparing for publication! There was something
_Mephistophelian_ in the smile with which he told me this. Such a
work, he continued, was, however, not likely to succeed in England:
for there was Hennel, who had published an amazingly clever work of
the same kind in London, and yet the British public seemed to have
made a point of completely _ignoring_ it. The work had, however, been
translated into German, and he (Strauss himself) had written a preface
to it. As I now perceived that the subject was any thing but a
delicate one with Strauss, I determined upon accepting a proposal he
had made me to accompany him on the morrow to Doornburg and Jena.
There were inconsistencies in his system, which I had the vanity to
think I might convince him of, and a _tete-a-tete_ like the one in
prospect was just what I wanted.
We returned to _S--'s_ for tea, with the addition to our party of a
distinguished philologian of this town, whose presence seemed to call
forth all the intellectual energies of Strauss, so that, in the course
of the evening, I had more than one occasion to admire the variety and
depth of the man's attainments. It is impossible to recollect every
thing, but what especially excited my attention was, that in a very
learned discussion concerning the comparative merits of the ancient
and modern drama, Strauss suggested the character and fate of Tiberius
as the best subject for a tragedy in the whole compass of history. I
was struck, too, and with reason, I think, with a new and flagrant
instance of the conservative tendency which his mind seems of late to
have fallen into. In talking of Horace, whose works, and particularly
whose odes, he appeared to have at his fingers' ends, he defended the
elder state of the texts with amazing pertinacity, treating with
contempt every change and suggestion of such, which the sacrilegious
commentators of our times have ventured upon. Such opinions in the
mouth of the author of the _Leben Jesu_ sounded strange enough, and
again I could not help saying to myself, "Why the deuce did he publish
that destructive work of his twenty-seventh year?"
The following day, being prevented by pressing engagements from
leaving town, I prevailed upon Strauss to put off his journey for a
day longer. I saw little of him in the mean time, and had therefore
leisure to bring into some kind of order and method a series of
objections which I had noted down during a second and more critical
perusal of the _Leben Jesu_. On mature reflection, it had occurred to
me that, after all, the Christian religion had, in the course of
eighteen centuries, survived far worse things than even Strauss's
book. This idea now gave me courage to look this Goliah in the face,
and, though I was but a youth (so to speak), and he a "man of war," to
go up against him, if occasion offered, even with my "scrip" and
"sling," and my "five smooth stones out of the brook."
Next morning, then, in pursuance of our plan, Strauss and I started
with the first train for Apolda, whence we went on foot across the
fields to Doornburg. There we breakfasted in Goethe's room, saw the
poet's handwriting on the wall, walked along his favorite
terrace-walk, where I, for the time as much of a hero-worshipper as
Strauss himself, recited aloud the beautiful song, _Da droben auf
jenem Berge_, &c., which Goethe is said to have composed on this very
spot. I expected Strauss to be moved almost to tears, instead of which
he burst out in a most incontrollable fit of laughter, in which I as
incontrollably joined when he told me the cause, which was this:--In
Munich or Ludwigsburg, I forget which, there was once a house of
public entertainment, called from its sign "The Lamb's Wool," as its
proprietor was called "The Lamb's Wool landlord." This landlord had,
it seems, been one of his own best customers, in consequence of which
he soon became bankrupt, which sad event a poet of the same town, most
probably another of the landlord's best customers, commemorated in a
few stanzas entitled, _Des Lamswollswirthes Klagelied_ (The Host of
the Lamb's Wool's Lament), a parody on the above song of Goethe's, and
suggested, doubtless, by these two lines--
"Ich bin _herunter gekommem_,
Und weiss doch selber nicht wie!"[9]
Nothing could exceed the humor with which Strauss told me this droll
anecdote, and, for my part, I feel that I shall never again be able to
recite Goethe's pathetic song with becoming gravity.
From Doornburg we walked to Jena, where we arrived to dinner. It
rained torrents, but Strauss was not to be balked of what he came for.
We trudged like _Schwarmer_ (enthusiasts), as he said, through mud and
rain, to all the Goethe and Schiller relics, the library, the
observatory, and, last of all, the Princess's garden, where the statue
of the eagle with its three poetical inscriptions long detained us.
Returned to our inn and about to take a final leave of Strauss; now, I
thought, or never, was the time to fulfil the object for which I had
accompanied him thus far. All day, hitherto, our talk had been of the
poets--Greek, Roman, English, and German, and so much erudition,
taste, and feeling, I had rarely found united. His mind seemed to have
fed on poetry and nothing else; and I know not how it was, but I could
not till now resolve to speak the word which I knew would disenchant
him. Now, however, the probability that we should never see each other
again on this side eternity gave a solemn, perhaps superstitious, turn
to my thoughts. As he sat there in silence before me, like the sphinx
of which he had spoken so mysteriously in descanting that morning on
the master piece of Sophocles, I felt that now I must speak out, or
else look to be devoured. I at once entered on the subject, therefore,
and delivered myself of all the objections I had so elaborately
arranged and prepared. His answer was evasive; and the topic was
changed into an argument.
Strauss was to leave with the diligence at eight o'clock for
Rudolstadt. I cordially shook hands with him, bade God bless him, and,
hiring a conveyance, drove directly back to Weimar. On the way home, I
conceived the plan of a poem, which, if it were completed, I would
insert here. It will probably never be completed. Instead of it,
therefore, I will communicate something far more interesting--a copy
of verses written by Strauss himself, on returning from his pilgrimage
to the tomb of the poets; and with which I conclude what I had to say
regarding Dr. David Strauss in Weimar.
[Dr. Strauss, as a poet, being almost a _lusus naturae_, according to
English ideas of him, we have thought it right to translate this
poem. Here, accordingly, is the best English version possible to us in
the little time allowed by an inexorable printer:--]
On pilgrim staff I homeward come,
Way worn, but still with pleasure warmed;
At the great prophet's holy tomb,
The pious rites I have performed.
I, in his garden's shady walk,
Recalled the prints of footsteps lost:
And from the tree his care had raised,
I plucked a greeting from his ghost.
I saw in letters and in poems,
His honored hand's laborious toil;
And many loving recollections,
Inquiry won me for my spoil.
Through every chamber, small and homely,
With holy reverence did I roam,
Where oft the gods in radiant concourse
Came thronging to their loved one's home.
By the bed stood I where the poet
In placid sleep his eyes reposed,
Till summoned to a nobler being
For the last time their lids he closed.
In reading of the holy places,
Henceforth have I a doubled zeal,
I have a being in the writing,
For all of it I know and feel.
FOOTNOTES:
[9] To explain this joke to the un-Germanized reader, it will be
necessary to inform him that the title of Goethe's poem is "The
Shepherd's Lament," wherein a shepherd, leaving his native hills,
gives a lingering look up at the familiar mountain, and sings
regretfully
"I have to the valley descended,
And how I cannot tell."
_Herunter kommen_, means also to decline, _to fail_, and upon this
turns the joke.
From Eliza Cook's Journal
GREAT MEN'S WIVES.
Probably, greatness does not conform with domesticity. The literary
man is wrapped up in his books, and the wife does not brook a divided
affection. He lives in the past or the future, and his mind can with
difficulty be brought to condescend to the carking cares of the
present--perhaps not even to its quiet daily life. His lofty
meditations are disturbed by the puling infant, or it may be, by a
call for house-rent, or the amount of the chandler's bill. Or, take
the leader of some great political or social movement; or the
commander of armies, at whose nod ten thousand swords are unsheathed,
and the air made blatant with the discharge of artillery; can you
expect such a person to subside into the quiet, husband-life, like any
common, ordinary man, and condescend to inquire into the state of the
children's teething, Johnny's progress at school, and the thousand
little domestic attentions which constitute a wife's happiness?
We shall not, however, discuss the question of whether happiness in
marriage be compatible with genius, or not, but proceed to set forth a
few traits of the wives of great men.
We shall not dwell on Xantippe, the wife of Socrates, whose name has
become familiar to us almost as a proverb. But she was not without her
uses, for she taught her great husband at least the virtue of
patience. Many of the great Greeks and Romans, like Socrates, were
unhappy in their wives. Possibly, however, we have heard only of the
bad ones among them; for the life of good wives is rarely made matter
of comment by the biographer, either in ancient or modern times.
The advent of Christianity placed woman in a greatly improved
position, as regarded marriage. Repudiation, as among the Greeks and
Romans, was no longer permitted; the new religion enforced the unity
and indissolubility of marriage; it became a sacrament, dispensed at
the altar, where woman had formerly been a victim, but was now become
an idol. The conjugal union was made a religious contract; the family
was constituted by the priest; the wife was elevated to the function
of Educator of the Family--the _alma mater_; and thus, through her
instrumentality, was the regeneration of the world secured.
But it did not follow that all women were good, or that all were
happy. Life is but a tangled yarn at the best; there are blanks and
prizes drawn by women still, and not unfrequently "great men" have
proved the greatest of blanks to them. Henry the Eighth was not,
perhaps, entitled to the appellation of a great man, though he was an
author, for which the Pope conferred on him the title, still retained
by our monarchs, of "Defender of the Faith." The history of his six
wives is well known. Nor was the married life of Peter the Great, and
his three wives, of a more creditable complexion.
LUTHER married Catharine de Bora, an escaped nun--a remarkably
handsome woman. In his letters to his friends, he spoke of her as "My
rib Kitty, my loved Kitty, my Empress Kitty." A year after his
marriage, when struggling with poverty, he said, in one of these
letters, "Catharine, my dear rib, salutes you. She is quite well,
thank God; gentle, obedient, and kind, in all things; quite beyond my
hopes. I would not exchange my poverty with her, for all the riches of
Croesus without her." A dozen years after, he said, "Catharine, thou
hast a pious man, who loves thee; thou art a very empress!" Yet Luther
had his little troubles in connection with his married life. Catharine
was fond of small-talk, and, when Luther was busily engaged in solving
the difficulties of the Bible, she would interrupt him with such
questions as--whether the king of France was richer than his cousin
the emperor of Germany? if the Italian women were more beautiful than
the German? if Rome was as big as Wittenberg? and so on. To escape
these little inquiries, Luther saw no other way than to lock himself
up in his study, with a quantity of bread and cheese, and there hold
to his work. But Catharine still pursued him. One day, when he was
thus locked up, laboring at his translation of the twenty-second
Psalm, the door was assailed by the wife. No answer was given. More
knocking followed, accompanied by Catharine's voice, shouting--"if you
don't open the door, I will go fetch the locksmith." The Doctor
entreated his wife not to interrupt his labors. "Open! open!" repeated
Catharine. The doctor obeyed. "I was afraid," said she, on entering,
"that something had vexed you, locked up in this room alone." To which
Luther replied, "the only thing that vexes me now is yourself." But
Luther, doubtless, entertained a steady, though sober affection for
his wife; and in his will, in which he left her sole executrix,
bequeathing to her all his property, he speaks of her as "always a
gentle, pious, and faithful wife to me, and that has loved me
tenderly. Whatever," he adds, "may happen to her after my death, I
have, I say, full confidence that she will ever conduct herself as a
good mother towards her children, and will conscientiously share with
them whatever she possesses."
The great Genevese Reformer, CALVIN, proceeded in his search for a
wife in a matter-of-fact way. He wrote to his friends, describing to
them what sort of an article he wanted, and they looked up a proper
person for him. Writing to Farel, one of his correspondents, on this
subject, he said,--"I beseech you ever to bear in mind what I seek for
in a wife. I am not one of your mad kind of lovers, who dote even upon
faults, when once they are taken by beauty of person. The only beauty
that entices me is, that she be chaste, obedient, humble, economical,
patient; and that there be hopes that she wilt be solicitous about my
health. If, therefore, you think it expedient that I should marry,
bestir yourself, lest somebody else anticipate you. But, if you think
otherwise, let us drop the subject altogether." A rich young German
lady, of noble birth, was proposed; but Calvin objected, on the ground
of the high birth. Another was proposed to him, but another failure
resulted. At last a widow, with a considerable family of children,
Odelette de Bures, the relict of a Strasburg Anabaptist, whom he had
converted, was discovered, suited to his notions, and he married her.
Nothing is said about their wedded life, and, therefore, we presume it
went on in the quiet, jog-trot way. At her death, he did not shed a
tear; and he spoke of the event only as an ordinary spectator would
have done.
The brothers CORNEILLE married the two sisters Lamperiere; and the
love of the whole family was cemented by the double union. They lived
in contiguous houses, which opened into each other, and there they
lived in a community of taste and sentiment. They worked together, and
shared each other's fame; the sisters, happy in the love and
admiration of their husbands, and in each other's sympathy. The poet
Racine was greatly blessed in his wife; she was pious, good,
sweet-tempered, and made his life happy. And yet she had no taste for
poetry, scarcely knowing what verse was; and knew little of her
husband's great tragedies except by name. She had an utter
indifference for money. One day, Racine brought from Versailles a
purse of a thousand golden louis; and running to his wife, embraced
her: "Congratulate me," said he, "here is a purse of a thousand louis
that the king has presented to me!" She complained to him of one of
the children, who would not learn his lessons for two days together.
"Let us talk of that another time," said he, "to-day we give ourselves
up to joy." She again reverted to the disobedient child, and requested
the parent to reprimand him; when Boileau (at whose house she was on a
visit) lost patience, and cried, "what insensibility! Can't you think
of a purse of a thousand louis?" Yet these two characters, though so
opposite, consorted admirably, and they lived long and happily
together.
To please his friends, LA FONTAINE married Mary Hericat, the daughter
of a lieutenant-general. It was a marriage of convenience, and the two
preferred living separate,--he at Paris, she in the country. Once a
year La Fontaine paid her a visit, in the month of September. If he
did not see her, he returned home as happy as he had gone. He went
some other day. Once, when he visited her house, he was told she was
quite well, and he returned to Paris, and told his friends he had not
seen his wife, because he understood she was in very good health. It
was a state of indifference on both sides. Yet the wife was a woman of
virtue, beauty, and intelligence; and La Fontaine himself was a man of
otherwise irreproachable character. There were many such marriages of
indifference in France in those days. Boileau and Racine both tried to
bring the married pair together, but without success; and, in course
of time La Fontaine almost forgot that he was married.
MOLIERE was extremely unhappy in his marriage. He espoused an actress,
and she proved a coquette. He became extremely jealous, and, perhaps,
he had reason. Yet he loved her passionately, and bore long with her
frailties. He thus himself describes her: "She has small eyes, but
they are full of fire, brilliant, and the most penetrating in the
world. She has a large mouth, but one can discern beauties in it that
one does not see in other mouths. Her figure is not large, but easy
and well-proportioned. She affects a _nonchalance_ in her speech and
carriage; but there is grace in her every act, and an indescribable
charm about her, by which she never fails to work her way to the
heart. Her mental gifts are exquisite; her conversation is charming,
and, if she be capricious more than any other can be, all sits
gracefully on the beautiful,--one bears any thing from the beautiful."
She was an excellent actress, and was run after by the town. Moliere,
her husband, was neglected by her, and suffered agonies of torture. He
strove against his passion as long as he could. At last, his patience
was exhausted, and a separation took place.
We know nothing of the married life of SHAKSPEARE; indeed, we know but
little of any portion of that great man's life. But we know that he
married young, and we know the name of his wife, Anne Hathawaye, the
daughter of a yeoman, in the neighborhood of Stratford-on-Avon. He was
little more than eighteen when he married her, and she was twenty-six.
The marriage was hastened by circumstances which need not be explained
here. He seems to have gone alone to London, leaving her with her
little family of children at Stratford-on-Avon, (for her name does not
once appear in his married life;) and yet she survived him seven
years. In his will he left her only his "second-best bed." Judging
from his sonnets one would be disposed to infer that Shakspeare's life
was not more chaste than that of his age; for we find him, in one of
these, excusing his friend for robbing him of his mistress,--a married
woman. One could almost wish, with Mr. Hallam, that Shakspeare had not
written many of those sonnets, beautiful in language and imagery
though they unquestionably are.
MILTON was three times married,--the first time very unhappily. Mary
Powell was the daughter of a royalist cavalier of Oxfordshire, and
Milton was a zealous republican. He was, moreover, a studious man,
whereas his wife was possessed by a love of gayety and pleasure. They
had only been married a month, when she grew tired of the studious
habits and philosophical seclusion of the republican poet, and
requested his permission to return to her father's house. She went,
but refused to return to him, preferring the dissipated society of the
brawling cavaliers who surrounded her. He beseeched her to come back,
but she persistently refused, treating his messengers with contumely
and contempt. He bore this for a long time; but at last he grew angry,
and repudiated her. He bethought himself of the social mischiefs
resulting from ill-assorted marriages like his own; and, full of the
subject, he composed and published his celebrated treatise on divorce.
On public grounds he pleaded his own cause in this work, which
contains, perhaps, the finest passages that are to be found in his
prose writings. He proceeded to solicit the hand of another young and
beautiful lady, the daughter of Dr. Dawes; but his wife, hearing of
this, became repentant, and, returning to him, fell upon her knees,
and entreated his forgiveness. Milton, like his own Adam, was "fondly
overcome with female charms," and consented. Four children were born
to them, but the wife died in child-bed of the fifth infant. It is to
Milton's honor, that he behaved to his deceased wife's relatives with
great generosity, when, a short time after, they became involved in
ruin in the progress of the civil wars. His second wife, Catharine
Woodcock, also died in child-bed, only a year after marriage. He seems
to have loved her fondly, and most readers will remember his beautiful
sonnet, consecrated to her memory.
With his third wife he seems to have lived happily; the young wife
devoted herself to his necessities--for he was now blind--"in
darkness, and with dangers compassed round, and solitude."
DR. RICHARD HOOKER, was very unfortunate in his wife. He was betrayed
into marrying her by his extraordinary simplicity and ignorance of the
world. The circumstances connected with the marriage were these:
Having been appointed to preach at St. Paul's Cross, he went up to
London from Oxford, and proceeded to the house set apart for the
reception of the preachers. He was very wet and weary on his arrival,
and experienced much kindness from the housekeeper. She persuaded him
that he was a man of very tender constitution, and urged that he
ought, above all things, to have a wife, to nurse and take care of
him. She professed to be able to furnish him with such, if he thought
fit to marry. Hooker authorized her to select a wife for him, and the
artful woman presented her own daughter--"a silly, clownish woman, and
withal a mere Xantippe." Hooker, who had promised to marry whomsoever
she should select, thought himself bound to marry her, and he did so.
They led a most uncomfortable life, but he resigned himself as he best
could, lamenting that "saints have usually a double share in the
miseries of this life." When Cranmer and Sandys went to see him at his
rectory in Buckinghamshire, they found him reading Horace and tending
sheep, in the absence of the servant. When they were conversing with
him in the house, his wife would break in upon them, and call him away
to rock the cradle and perform other menial offices. The guests were
glad to get away. This unfortunate wife was long a thorn in his side.
The famous Earl of ROCHESTER appears in very favorable light in his
letters to his wife: they are remarkably tender, affectionate, and
gentle. In one of them, he says: "'Tis not an easy thing to be
entirely happy; but to be kind is very easy, and that is the greatest
measure of happiness. I say not this to put you in mind of being kind
to me--you have practised that so long, that I have a joyful
confidence you will never forget it--but to show that I myself have a
sense of what the method of my life seemed so utterly to contradict."
DRYDEN married Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Earl of Berkshire.
The match added little to his wealth, and less to his happiness. It
was an altogether unhappy union. On one occasion, his wife wished to
be a book, that she might enjoy more of his company. Dryden's reply
was: "Be an almanac, then, my dear, that I may change you once a
year." In his writings afterwards, he constantly inveighed against
matrimony.
ADDISON also "married discord in a noble wife." He was tutor to the
young Earl of Warwick, and aspired to the hand of the Dowager
Countess. She married him, and treated him like a lacquey. She never
saw in him more than her son's tutor. SWIFT (his contemporary) cruelly
flirted with two admirable women; he heartlessly killed one of them,
and secretly married the other, but never publicly recognized her;
she, too, shortly after died.
STERNE treated his wife with such severity, that she abandoned him,
and took retreat in a convent with her daughter; she never saw him
after. Who would have suspected this from the author of "Lefevre" and
"The Sentimental Journey?" FARQUHAR, the play-writer, married, early
in life, a woman who deceived him by pretending to be possessed of a
fortune, and he sunk, a victim to disappointment and over-exertion, in
his thirtieth year, leaving behind him "two helpless girls;" his
widow died in the utmost indigence.
These are rather unhappy instances of the wives of great men; but
there are others of a happier kind. Indeed we hear but little of the
happy unions: it is the brawling, rocky brook that is the most noisy:
the slow, deep waters are dump. Every one will remember the wife of
Lord WILLIAM RUSSELL, whose conduct by the side of her husband, on his
trial, stands out as one of the most beautiful pictures in all
history. How devotedly her husband loved her need not be said: when he
had taken his final farewell, all he could say was: "The bitterness of
death is now past!" She lived many years after the execution of her
husband, and a delightful collection of her letters has since been
published.
BUNYAN speaks with the greatest tenderness of his wife, who helped to
lead him into the paths of peace. He says: "My mercy was to light upon
a wife, whose father and mother were counted godly: this woman and I,
though we came together as poor as poor might be (not having so much
household stuff as a dish or a spoon betwixt us both); yet this she
had for her part, 'The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven,' and 'The
Practice of Piety,' which her father had left her when he died." And
the perusal of these books, together with his good wife's kindly
influence, at last implanted in him strong desires to reform his
vicious life, in which he eventually succeeded.
PARNELL and STEELE were both happy in their wives. The former married
a young woman of beauty and merit, but she lived only a few years, and
his grief at his loss so preyed on his mind, that he never recovered
his wonted spirits and health. STEELE'S letters to his wife, both
before and after his marriage, are imbued with the most tender
feeling, and exhibit his affection for her in the most beautiful
light. YOUNG, the poet, like Dryden and Addison, married into a noble
house, espousing the daughter of the Earl of Litchfield; but he was
happier than they. It was out of the melancholy produced by her death
that his famous "Night Thoughts" took their rise.
When JOHNSON married Mrs. Porter, her age was twice his own; yet the
union proved a happy one. It was not a love-match, but it was one of
inclination and of reciprocal esteem. Johnson was any thing but
graceful or attractive, yet he possessed admirable qualities. Mrs.
Porter was rather ungainly; but Johnson was very shortsighted, and
could not detect personal faults. In his eyes, she was beautiful; and,
in an affectionate epitaph which he devoted to her, he painted her in
glowing colors. Indeed, his writings contain many proofs of the lively
and sincere affection which he entertained for her.
While such have been the wives of a few of the great men of past
times, it must be stated that, probably, the greatest of them all led
a single life. The greatest of the philosophers were bachelors, such
as Bacon, Newton, Gassendi, Galileo, Descartes, Bayle, Locke,
Leibnitz, Hume, Gibbon; and many poets also as Pope, Goldsmith, and
Thompson. Bacon says that wife and children are "impediments to great
enterprises;" and that "certainly the best works, and of greatest
merit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried, or childless
men, which, both in affection and reason, have married and endowed the
public." But these were the words of a bachelor, and, perhaps, not
strictly correct. The great men of more recent times have generally
been married; and, at another time, we shall probably complete this
paper by a brief account of the more distinguished of their wives.
A LEGEND OF ST. MARY'S.
BY ALICE CAREY.
One night, when bitterer winds than ours
On hill-sides and in valleys low,
Built sepulchres for the dead flowers,
And buried them in sheets of snow,--
When over ledges dark and cold,
The sweet moon rising high and higher,
Tipped with a dimly burning gold
St. Mary's old cathedral spire,--
The lamp of the confessional,
(God grant it did not burn in vain,)
After the solemn midnight bell,
Streamed redly through the lattice-pane.
And kneeling at the father's feet,
Whose long and venerable hairs,
Now whiter than the mountain sleet,
Could not have numbered half his prayers,
Was one--I cannot picture true
The cherub beauty of his guise;
Lilies, and waves of deepest blue,
Were something like his hands and eyes!
Like yellow mosses on the rocks,
Dashed with the ocean's milk-white spray,
The softness of his golden locks
About his cheek and forehead lay.
Father, thy tresses, silver-sleet,
Ne'er swept above a form so fair;
Surely the flowers beneath his feet
Have been a rosary of prayer!
We know not, and we cannot know,
Why swam those meek blue eyes with tears;
But surely guilt, or guiltless wo,
Had bowed him earthward more than years.
All the long summer that was gone,
A cottage maid, the village pride,
Fainter and fainter smiles had worn,
And on that very night she died!
As soft the yellow moonbeams streamed
Across her bosom, snowy fair,
She said, (the watchers thought she dreamed,)
"'Tis like the shadow of his hair!"
And they could hear, who nearest came,
The cross to sign and hope to lend,
The murmur of another name
Than that of mother, brother, friend.
An hour--and St. Mary's spires,
Like spikes of flame, no longer glow--
No longer the confessional fires
Shine redly on the drifted snow.
An hour--and the saints had claimed
That cottage maid, the village pride;
And he, whose name in death she named,
Was darkly weeping by her side.
White as a spray-wreath lay her brow
Beneath the midnight of her hair,
But all those passionate kisses now
Wake not the faintest crimson there!
Pride, honor, manhood, cannot check
The vehemence of love's despair--
No soft hand steals about his neck,
Or bathes its beauty in his hair!
Almost upon the cabin walls
Wherein the sweet young maiden died,
The shadow of a castle falls,
Where for her young lord waits a bride!
With clear blue eyes and flaxen hair,
In her high turret still she sits;
But, ah! what scorn her ripe lips wear--
What shadow to her bosom flits!
From that low cabin tapers flash,
And, by the shimmering light they spread,
She sees beneath its mountain ash,
Leafless, but all with berries red,
Impatient of the unclasped rein,
A courser that should not be there--
The silver whiteness of his mane
Streaming like moonlight on the air!
Oh, love! thou art avenged too well--
The young heart, broken and betrayed,
Where thou didst meekly, sweetly dwell,
For all its sufferings is repaid.
Not the proud beauty, nor the frown
Of her who shares the living years
From her the winding-sheet wraps down,
Can ever buy away the tears!
From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.
MARY KINGSFORD.
FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF A POLICE-OFFICER.
Towards the close of 1836, I was hurriedly dispatched to Liverpool for
the purpose of securing the person of one Charles James Marshall, a
collecting clerk, who, it was suddenly discovered, had absconded with
a considerable sum of money belonging to his employers. I was too
late--Charles James Marshall having sailed in one of the American
liners the day before my arrival in the northern commercial capital.
This fact well ascertained, I immediately set out on my return to
London. Winter had come upon us unusually early; the weather was
bitterly cold; and a piercing wind caused the snow, which had been
falling heavily for several hours, to gyrate in fierce, blinding
eddies, and heaped it up here and there into large and dangerous
drifts. The obstruction offered by the rapidly-congealing snow greatly
delayed our progress between Liverpool and Birmingham; and at a few
miles only distant from the latter city, the leading engine ran off
the line. Fortunately, the rate at which we were travelling was a very
slow one, and no accident of moment occurred. Having no luggage to
care for, I walked on to Birmingham, where I found the parliamentary
train just on the point of starting, and with some hesitation, on
account of the severity of the weather, I took my seat in one of the
then very much exposed and uncomfortable carriages. We travelled
steadily and safely, though slowly along, and reached Rugby Station in
the afternoon, where we were to remain, the guard told us, till a fast
down-train had passed. All of us hurried as quickly as we could to the
large room at this station, where blazing fires and other appliances
soon thawed the half-frozen bodies, and loosened the tongues of the
numerous and motley passengers. After recovering the use of my
benumbed limbs and faculties, I had leisure to look around and survey
the miscellaneous assemblage about me.
Two persons had travelled in the same compartment with me from
Birmingham, whose exterior, as disclosed by the dim light of the
railway carriage, created some surprise that such finely-attired,
fashionable gentlemen should stoop to journey by the plebeian
penny-a-mile train. I could now observe them in a clearer light, and
surprise at their apparent condescension vanished at once. To an eye
less experienced than mine in the artifices and expedients familiar to
a certain class of "swells," they might perhaps have passed muster for
what they assumed to be, especially amidst the varied crowd of a
"parliamentary;" but their copper finery could not for a moment impose
upon me. The watch-chains were, I saw, mosaic; the watches, so
frequently displayed, gilt; eye-glasses the same; the coats,
fur-collared and cuffed, were ill-fitting and second-hand; ditto of
the varnished boats and renovated velvet waistcoats; while the
luxuriant moustaches and whiskers, and flowing wigs, were unmistakably
mere _pieces d'occasion_--assumed and diversified at pleasure. They
were both apparently about fifty years of age; one of them perhaps one
or two years less than that. I watched them narrowly, the more so from
their making themselves ostentatiously attentive to a young
woman--girl rather she seemed--of a remarkably graceful figure, but
whose face I had not yet obtained a glimpse of. They made boisterous
way for her to the fire, and were profuse and noisy in their offers of
refreshment--all of which, I observed, were peremptorily declined. She
was dressed in deep, unexpensive mourning; and from her timid gestures
and averted head, whenever either of the fellows addressed her, was,
it was evident, terrified as well as annoyed by their rude and
insolent notice. I quietly drew near to the side of the fire-place, at
which she stood, and with some difficulty obtained a sight of her
features. I was struck with extreme surprise--not so much at her
singular beauty, as from an instantaneous conviction that she was
known to me, or at least that I had seen her frequently before, but
where or when I could not at all call to mind. Again I looked, and my
first impression was confirmed. At this moment the elder of the two
men I have partially described placed his hand, with a rude
familiarity, upon the girl's shoulder, proffering at the same time a
glass of hot brandy and water for her acceptance. She turned sharply
and indignantly away from the fellow; and looking round as if for
protection, caught my eagerly-fixed gaze.
"Mr. Waters!" she said impulsively. "Oh I am so glad!"
"Yes," I answered, "that is certainly my name; but I scarcely
remember----Stand back, fellow!" I angrily continued, as her
tormentor, emboldened by the spirits he had drank, pressed with a
jeering grin upon his face, towards her, still tendering the brandy
and water. "Stand back!" He replied by a curse and a threat. The next
moment his flowing wig was whirling across the room, and he standing
with his bullet-head bare but for a few locks of iron-gray, in an
attitude of speechless rage and confusion, increased by the peals of
laughter which greeted his ludicrous, unwigged aspect. He quickly put
himself in a fighting attitude, and, backed by his companion,
challenged me to battle. This was quite out of the question; and I was
somewhat at a loss how to proceed, when the bell announcing the
instant departure of the train rang out, my furious antagonist
gathered up and adjusted his wig, and we all sallied forth to take our
places--the young woman holding fast by my arm, and in a low, nervous
voice, begging me not to leave her. I watched the two fellows take
their seats, and then led her to the hindmost carriage, which we had
to ourselves as far as the next station.
"Are Mrs. Waters and Emily quite well?" said the young woman, coloring
and lowering her eyes beneath my earnest gaze, which she seemed for a
moment to misinterpret.
"Quite--entirely so," I almost stammered. "You know us, then?"
"Surely I do," she replied, reassured by my manner. "But you, it
seems," she presently added with a winning smile, "have quite
forgotten little Mary Kingsford."
"Mary Kingsford!" I exclaimed almost with a shout. "Why, so it is! But
what a transformation a few years have effected!"
"Do you think so! Not _pretty_ Mary Kingsford now, then?" she added
with a light, pleasant laugh.
"You know what I mean, you vain creature!" I rejoined; for I was
overjoyed at meeting with the gentle, well-remembered playmate of my
own eldest girl. We were old familiar friends--almost father and
daughter--in an instant.
Little Mary Kingsford, I should state, was, when I left Yorkshire, one
of the prettiest, most engaging children I had ever seen; and a petted
favorite not only with us, but of every other family in the
neighborhood. She was the only child of Philip and Mary Kingsford--a
humble, worthy, and much-respected couple. The father was gardener to
Sir Pyott Dalzell, and her mother eked out his wages to a respectable
maintenance by keeping a cheap children's school. The change which a
few years had wrought in the beautiful child was quite sufficient to
account for my imperfect recognition of her; but the instant her name
was mentioned, I at once recognised the rare comeliness which had
charmed us all in her childhood. The soft brown eyes were the same,
though now revealing profounder depths, and emitting a more pensive
expression; the hair, though deepened in color, was still golden; her
complexion, lit up as it now was by a sweet blush, was brilliant as
ever; whilst her child-person had became matured and developed into
womanly symmetry and grace. The brilliancy of color vanished from her
cheek as I glanced meaningly at her mourning dress.
"Yes," she murmured in a sad quivering voice--"yes, father is gone! It
will be six months next Thursday, that he died! Mother is well," she
continued more cheerfully, after a pause: "in health, but poorly off;
and I--and I," she added with a faint effort at a smile, "am going to
London to seek my fortune!"
"To seek your fortune!"
"Yes; you know my cousin, Sophy Clark? In one of her letters, she said
she often saw you."
I nodded without speaking. I knew little of Sophia Clarke, except that
she was the somewhat gay, coquettish shopwoman of a highly-respectable
confectioner in the Strand, whom I shall call by the name of Morris.
"I am to be Sophy's assistant," continued Mary Kingsford; "not of
course at first at such good wages as she gets. So lucky for me, is it
not, since I _must_ go to service? And so kind, too, of Sophy, to
interest herself for me!"
"Well, it may be so. But surely I have heard--my wife at least
has--that you and Richard Westlake were engaged? Excuse me, I was not
aware the subject was a painful or unpleasant one."
"Richard's father," she replied with some spirit, "has higher views
for his son. It is all off between us now," she added; "and perhaps it
is for the best that it should be so."
I could have rightly interpreted these words without the aid of the
partially-expressed sigh which followed them. The perilous position of
so attractive, so inexperienced, so guileless a young creature, amidst
the temptations and vanities of London, so painfully impressed and
preoccupied me, that I scarcely uttered another word till the
rapidly-diminishing rate of the train announced that we neared a
station, after which it was probable we should have no farther
opportunity for private conversation.
"Those men--those fellows at Rugby--where did you meet with them?" I
inquired.
"Thirty or forty miles below Birmingham, where they entered the car in
which I was seated. At Birmingham I managed to avoid them."
Little more passed between us till we reached London. Sophia Clark
received her cousin at the Euston station, and was profuse of
felicitations and compliments upon her arrival and personal
appearance. After receiving a promise from Mary Kingsford to call and
take tea with my wife and her old playmate, on the following Sunday, I
handed the two young women into a cab in waiting, and they drove off.
I had not moved away from the spot when a voice, a few paces behind
me, which I thought I recognised, called out; "Quick, coachee, or
you'll lose sight of them!" As I turned quickly round, another cab
drove smartly off, which I followed at a run. I found, on reaching
Lower Seymour Street, that I was not mistaken as to the owner of the
voice, nor of his purpose. The fellow I had unwigged at Rugby thrust
his body half out of the cab window, and pointing to the vehicle which
contained the two girls, called out to the driver "to mind and make no
mistake." The man nodded intelligence, and lashed his horse into a
faster pace. Nothing that I might do could prevent the fellows from
ascertaining Mary Kingsford's place of abode; and as that was all
that, for the present at least, need be apprehended, I desisted from
pursuit, and bent my steps homewards.
Mary Kingsford kept her appointment on the Sunday, and in reply to our
questioning, said she liked her situation very well. Mr. and Mrs.
Morris were exceedingly kind to her; so was Sophia. "Her cousin," she
added in reply to a look which I could not repress, "was perhaps a
little gay and free of manner, but the best-hearted creature in the
world." The two fellows who had followed them had, I found, already
twice visited the shop; but their attentions appeared now to be
exclusively directed towards Sophia Clarke, whose vanity they not a
little gratified. The names they gave were Hartley and Simpson. So
entirely guileless and unsophisticated was the gentle country maiden,
that I saw she scarcely comprehended the hints and warnings which I
threw out. At parting, however, she made me a serious promise that she
would instantly apply to me should any difficulty or perplexity
overtake her.
I often called in at the confectioner's, and was gratified to find
that Mary's modest propriety of behavior, in a somewhat difficult
position, had gained her the good will of her employers, who
invariably spoke of her with kindness and respect. Nevertheless, the
care of a London life, with its incessant employment and late hours,
soon, I perceived, began to tell upon her health and spirits; and it
was consequently with pleasure I heard from my wife that she had seen
a passage in a letter from Mary's mother, to the effect that the elder
Westlake was betraying symptoms of yielding to the angry and
passionate expostulations of his only son, relative to the engagement
with Mary Kingsford. The blush with which she presented the letter
was, I was told, eloquent.
One evening, on passing Morris's shop, I observed Hartley and Simpson
there. They were swallowing custards and other confectionary with much
gusto; and, from their new and costly habiliments, seemed to be in
surprisingly good case. They were smiling at the cousins with rude
confidence; and Sophia Clarke, I was grieved to see, repaid their
insulting impertinence by her most elaborate graces. I passed on; and
presently meeting with a brother-detective, who, it struck me, might
know something of the two gentlemen, I turned back with him, and
pointed them out. A glance sufficed him.
"Hartley and Simpson you say?" he remarked after we had walked away to
some distance: "those are only two of their numerous _aliases_. I
cannot, however, say that I am as yet on very familiar terms with
them; but as I am especially directed to cultivate their acquaintance,
there is no doubt we shall be more intimate with each other before
long. Gamblers, blacklegs, swindlers, I already know them to be; and I
would take odds they are not unfrequently something more, especially
when fortune and the bones run cross with them."
"They appear in high feather just now," I said.
"Yes; they are connected, I suspect, with the gang who cleaned out
young Garslade last week in Jermyn Street. I'd lay a trifle," he added
as I turned to leave him, "that one or both of them will wear the
Queen's livery, gray, turned up with yellow, before many weeks are
past. Good-by."
About a fortnight after this conversation, with my wife I paid a visit
to Astley's, for the gratification of our youngsters, who had long
been promised a sight of the equestrian marvels at that celebrated
amphitheatre. It was the latter end of February; and when we came out,
we found the weather changed; dark and sleety, with a sharp, nipping
wind. I had to call at Scotland-Yard; my wife and children
consequently proceeded home in a cab without me; and after assisting
to quell a slight disturbance originating in a gin-palace close by, I
went on my way over Westminister Bridge. The inclement weather had
cleared the streets and thoroughfares in a surprisingly short time; so
that, excepting myself, no foot-passenger was visible on the bridge
till I had about halfcrossed it, when a female figure, closely muffled
up about the head, and sobbing bitterly, passed rapidly by on the
opposite side. I turned and gazed after the retreating figure; it was
a youthful, symmetrical one; and after a few moments' hesitation, I
determined to follow at a distance, and as unobservedly as I could. On
the woman sped, without pause or hesitation, till she reached
Astley's, where I observed her stop suddenly, and toss her arms in the
air with a gesture of desperation. I quickened my steps, which she
observing, uttered a slight scream, and darted swiftly off again,
moaning as she ran. The momentary glimpse I had obtained of her
features, suggested a frightful apprehension, and I followed at my
utmost speed. She turned at the first cross-street, and I should soon
have overtaken her, but that in darting round the corner where she
disappeared, I ran butt against a stout, elderly gentleman, who was
hurrying smartly along out of the weather. With the suddenness of the
shock and the slipperiness of the pavement, down we both reeled; and
by the time we regained our feet, and growled savagely at each other,
the young woman, whoever she was, had disappeared, and more than half
an hour's eager search after her proved fruitless. At last I bethought
me of hiding at one corner of Westminster Bridge. I had watched
impatiently for about twenty minutes, when I observed the object of my
pursuit stealing timidly and furtively towards the bridge on the
opposite side of the way. As she came nearly abreast of where I stood,
I darted forward; she saw, without recognizing me, and uttered an
exclamation of terror, flew down towards the river, where a number of
pieces of balk and other timber were fastened together, forming a kind
of loose raft. I followed with haste, for I saw that it was indeed
Mary Kingsford and loudly called to her to stop. She did not seem to
hear me, and in a few moments the unhappy girl had gained the end of
the timber raft. One instant she paused, with clasped hands, upon the
brink, and in another had thrown herself into the dark and moaning
river. On reaching the spot where she had disappeared, I could not at
first see her in consequence of the dark mourning dress she had on.
Presently I caught sight of her, still upborne by her spread clothes,
but already carried by the swift current beyond my reach. The only
chance was to crawl along a piece of round timber which projected
farther into the river and by the end of which she must pass. This I
effected with some difficulty; and laying myself out at full length,
vainly endeavored with outstretched, straining arms, to grasp her
dress. There was nothing left for it but to plunge in after her. I
will confess that I hesitated to do so. I was encumbered with a heavy
dress, which there was no time to put off, and moreover, like most
inland men, I was but an indifferent swimmer. My indecision quickly
vanished. The wretched girl, though gradually sinking, had not yet
uttered a cry or appeared to struggle; but when the chilling waters
reached her lips, she seemed to suddenly revive to a consciousness of
the horror of her fate; she fought wildly with the engulfing tide, and
shrieked for help. Before one could count ten, I grasped her by the
arm, and lifted her head above the surface of the river. As I did so,
I felt as if suddenly encased and weighed down by leaden garments, so
quickly had my thick clothing and high boots sucked in the water.
Vainly, thus burdened and impeded, did I endeavor to regain the raft;
the strong tide bore us outwards, and I glared round, in inexpressible
dismay, for some means of extrication from the frightful peril in
which I found myself involved. Happily, right in the direction the
tide was drifting us, a large barge lay moored by a chain-cable. I
seized and twined one arm firmly round it, and thus partially secure,
hallooed with renewed power for assistance. It soon came; a passer had
witnessed the flight of the girl, and my pursuit, and was already
hastening with others to our assistance. A wherry was unmoored; guided
by my voice, they soon reached us; and but a brief interval elapsed
before we were safely housed in an adjoining tavern.
A change of dress, with which the landlord kindly supplied me, a
blazing fire, and a couple of glasses of hot brandy and water, soon
restored warmth and vigor to my chilled and partially benumbed limbs;
but more than two hours elapsed before Mary, who had swallowed a good
deal of water, was in a condition to be removed. I had just sent for a
cab, when two police officers, well known to me, entered the room with
official briskness. Mary screamed, staggered towards me, and clinging
to my arm, besought me with frantic earnestness to save her.
"What _is_ the meaning of this?" I exclaimed, addressing one of the
police officers.
"Merely," said he, "that the young woman that's clinging so tight to
you has been committing an audacious robbery"----
"No--no--no!" broke in the terrified girl.
"Oh! of course you'll say so," continued the officer. "All I know is,
that the diamond brooch was found snugly hid away in her own box. But
come, we have been after you for the last three hours; so you had
better come along at once."
"Save me!--save me!" she sobbed, tightening her grasp upon my arm and
looking with beseeching agony in my face.
"Be comforted," I whispered; "you shall go home with me. Calm
yourself, Miss Kingsford," I added in a louder tone: "I no more
believe you have stolen a diamond brooch than that I have."
"Bless you!--bless you!" she gasped in the intervals of her convulsive
sobs.
"There is some wretched misapprehension in this business, I am quite
sure," I continued; "but at all events I shall bail her--for this
night at least."
"Bail her! That is hardly regular."
"No; but you will tell the superintendent that Mary Kingsford is in my
custody, and that I answer for appearance to-morrow."
The men hesitated; but I stood too well at head-quarters for them to
do more than hesitate; and the cab I had ordered being just then
announced, I passed with Mary out of the room as quickly as I could,
for I feared her senses were again leaving her. The air revived her
somewhat, and I lifted her into the cab, placing myself beside her.
She appeared to listen in fearful doubt whether I should be allowed to
take her with me; and it was not till the wheels had made a score of
revolutions that her fears vanished; then throwing herself upon my
neck in an ecstacy of gratitude, she burst into tears, and continued
till we reached home crying on my bosom like a broken-hearted child.
She had, I found, been there about ten o'clock to seek me, and being
told that I was gone to Astley's, had started off to find me there.
She still slept, or at least she had not risen when I left home the
following morning to endeavor to get at the bottom of the strange
accusation preferred against her. I first saw the superintendent, who,
after hearing what I had to say, quite approved of all I had done, and
intrusted the case entirely to my care. I next saw Mr. and Mrs. Morris
and Sophia Clarke, and then waited upon the prosecutor, a youngish
gentleman by the name of Saville, lodging in Essex Street, Strand. One
or two things I heard, made necessary a visit to other officers of
police, incidentally, as I found, mixed up with the affair. By the
time all this was done, and an effectual watch had been placed upon
Mr. Augustus Saville's movements, evening had fallen, and I wended my
way homewards, both to obtain a little rest, and to hear Mary
Kingsford's version of the story.
The result of my inquiries may be thus summed up. Ten days before.
Sophia Clarke told her cousin that she had orders for Covent-Garden
Theatre; and as it was not one of their busy nights, she thought they
might obtain leave to go. Mary expressed her doubt of this, as both
Mr. and Mrs. Morris, who were strict and somewhat fanatical
Dissenters, disapproved of play-going, especially for young women.
Nevertheless Sophia asked, informed Mary that the required permission
had been readily accorded, and off they went in high spirits; Mary
especially, who had never been to a theatre in her life before. When
there they were joined by Hartley and Simpson, much to Mary's
annoyance and vexation, especially as she saw that her cousin expected
them. She had, in fact, accepted the orders from them. At the
conclusion of the entertainments, they all four came out together,
when suddenly there arose a hustling and confusion, accompanied with
loud outcries, and a violent swaying to and fro of the crowd. The
disturbance was, however, soon quelled; and Mary and her cousin had
reached the outer door, when two police-officers seized Hartley and
his friend, and insisted upon their going with them. A scuffle ensued;
but other officers being at hand, the two men were secured, and
carried off. The cousins, terribly frightened, called a coach, and
were very glad to find themselves safe at home again. And now it came
out that Mr. and Mrs. Morris had been told that they were going to
spend the evening at _my_ house, and had no idea they were going to
the play! Vexed as Mary was at the deception, she was too kindly
tempered to refuse to keep her cousin's secret; especially knowing as
she did that the discovery of the deceit Sophia had practised would in
all probability be followed by her immediate discharge. Hartley and
his friend swaggered on the following afternoon into the shop, and
whispered Sophia that their arrest by the police had arisen from a
strange mistake, for which the most ample apologies had been offered
and accepted. After this matters went on as usual, except that Mary
perceived a growing insolence and familiarity in Hartley's manner
towards her. His language was frequently quite unintelligible, and
once he asked her plainly "if she did not mean that he should go
_shares_ in the prize she had lately found?" Upon Mary replying that
she did not comprehend him, his look became absolutely ferocious, and
he exclaimed; "Oh, that's your game, is it? But don't try it on with
me, my good girl, I advise you." So violent did he become, that Mr.
Morris was attracted by the noise, and ultimately bundled him, neck
and heels, out of the shop. She had not seen either him or his
companion since.
On the evening of the previous day, a gentleman whom she never
remembered to have seen before, entered the shop, took a seat, and
helped himself to a tart. She observed that after a while he looked at
her very earnestly, and at length approaching quite close, said, "You
were at Covent-Garden Theatre last Tuesday evening week?" Mary was
struck, as she said, all of a heap, for both Mr. and Mrs. Morris were
in the shop, and heard the question.
"Oh no, no! you mistake," she said hurriedly, and feeling at the same
time her cheeks kindle into flame.
"Nay, but you were though," rejoined the gentleman. And then lowering
his voice to a whisper, he said, "And let me advise you, if you would
avoid exposure and consign punishment, to restore me the diamond
brooch you robbed me of on that evening."
Mary screamed with terror, and a regular scene ensued. She was obliged
to confess she had told a falsehood in denying she was at the theatre
on the night in question, and Mr. Morris after that seemed inclined to
believe any thing of her. The gentleman persisted in his charge; but
at the same time vehemently iterating his assurance that all he wanted
was his property; and it was ultimately decided that Mary's boxes, as
well as her person should be searched. This was done; and to her utter
consternation the brooch was found concealed, they said, in a black
silk reticule. Denials, asseverations, were in vain. Mr. Saville
identified the brooch, but once more offered to be content with its
restoration. This Mr. Morris, a just, stern man, would not consent to,
and he went out to summon a police-officer. Before he returned, Mary,
by the advice of both her cousin and Mrs. Morris, had fled the house,
and hurried in a state of distraction to find me, with what result the
reader already knows.
"It is a wretched business," I observed to my wife, as soon as Mary
Kingsford had retired to rest, at about nine o'clock in the evening.
"Like you, I have no doubt of the poor girl's perfect innocence; but
how to establish it by satisfactory evidence is another matter. I must
take her to Bow Street the day after to-morrow."
"Good God, how dreadful! Can nothing be done? What does the prosecutor
say the brooch is worth?"
"His uncle, he says, gave a hundred and twenty guineas for it. But
that signifies little, for were its worth only a hundred and twenty
farthings, compromise is, you know, out of the question."
"I did not mean that. Can you show it me? I am a pretty good judge of
the value of jewels."
"Yes, you can see it." I took it out of the desk in which I had locked
it up, and placed it before her. It was a splendid emerald, encircled
by large brilliants.
My wife twisted and turned it about, holding it in all sorts of
lights, and at last said, "I do not believe that either the emerald
or the brilliants are real--that the brooch is, in fact, worth twenty
shillings intrinsically."
"Do you say so?" I exclaimed, as I jumped up from my chair, for my
wife's words gave color and consistence to a dim and faint suspicion
which had crossed my mind. "Then this Saville is a manifest liar, and
perhaps confederate with----But give me my hat: I will ascertain this
point at once."
I hurried to a jeweller's shop, and found that my wife's opinion was
correct. Apart from the workmanship, which was very fine, the brooch
was valueless. Conjectures, suspicions, hopes, fears, chased each
other with bewildering rapidity through my brain, and in order to
collect and arrange my thoughts, I stepped out of the whirl of the
streets into Dolly's Chop-house, and decided, over a quiet glass of
negus, upon my plan of operations.
The next morning there appeared at the top of the second column of the
"Times" an earnest appeal, worded with careful obscurity, so that only
the person to whom it was addressed should easily understand it, to
the individual who had lost or been robbed of a false stone and
brilliants at the theatre, to communicate with a certain person--whose
address I gave--without delay, in order to save the reputation,
perhaps the life, of an innocent person.
I was at the address I had given by nine o'clock. Several hours passed
without bringing any one, and I was beginning to despair, when a
gentleman of the name of Bagshawe was announced: I fairly leaped for
joy, for this was beyond my hopes.
A gentleman presently entered, of about thirty years of age, of a
distinguished, though somewhat dissipated aspect.
"This brooch is yours?" said I, exhibiting it without delay or
preface.
"It is; and I am here to know what your singular advertisement means."
I briefly explained the situation of affairs.
"The rascals!" he broke in, almost before I had finished. "I will
briefly explain it all. A fellow of the name of Hartley, at least that
was the name he gave, robbed me, I was pretty sure, of this brooch. I
pointed him out to the police, and he was taken into custody; but
nothing being found upon him, he was discharged."
"Not entirely, Mr. Bagshawe, on that account. You refused, when
arrived at the station-house, to state what you had been robbed of;
and you, moreover, said, in presence of the culprit, that you were to
embark with your regiment for India the next day. That regiment, I
have ascertained, did embark, as you said it would."
"True; but I had leave of absence, and shall take the overland route.
The truth is, that during the walk to the station-house, I had leisure
to reflect, that if I made a formal charge, it would lead to awkward
disclosures, This brooch is an imitation of one presented me by a
valued relative. Losses at play--since, for this unfortunate young
woman's sake, I _must_ out with it--obliged me to part with the
original; and I wore this, in order to conceal the fact from my
relative's knowledge."
"This will, sir," I replied, "prove, with a little management, quite
sufficient for all purposes. You have no objection to accompany me to
the superintendent?"
"Not in the least: only I wish the devil had the brooch, as well as
the fellow that stole it."
About half-past five o'clock on the same evening, the street-door was
quietly opened by the landlord of the house in which Mr. Saville
lodged, and I walked into the front room on the first floor, where I
found the gentleman I sought languidly reclining on a sofa. He
gathered himself smartly up at my appearance, and looked keenly in my
face. He did not appear to like what he read there.
"I did not expect to see you to-day," he said, at last.
"No, perhaps not: but I have news for you. Mr. Bagshawe, the owner of
the hundred-and-twenty guinea brooch your deceased uncle gave you, did
_not_ sail for India, and--"
The wretched cur, before I could conclude, was on his knees, begging
for mercy with disgusting abjectness. I could have spurned the
scoundrel where he crawled.
"Come, sir!" I cried, "let us have no snivelling or humbug: mercy is
not in my power, as you ought to know. Strive to deserve it. We want
Hartley and Simpson, and cannot find them: you must aid us."
"Oh yes; to be sure I will," eagerly rejoined the rascal. "I will go
for them at once," he added, with a kind of hesitating assurance.
"Nonsense! _Send_ for them, you mean. Do so, and I will wait their
arrival."
His note was despatched by a sure hand; and meanwhile I arranged the
details of the expected meeting. I, and a friend, whom I momently
expected, would ensconce ourselves behind a large screen in the room,
while Mr. Augustus Saville would run playfully over the charming plot
with his two friends, so that we might be able to fully appreciate its
merits. Mr. Saville agreed. I rang the bell, an officer appeared, and
we took our posts in readiness. We had scarcely done so, when the
street-bell rang, and Saville announced the arrival of his
confederates. There was a twinkle in the fellow's green eyes which I
thought I understood. "Do not try that on, Mr. Augustus Saville," I
quietly remarked: "we are but two here, certainly, but there are
half-a-dozen in waiting below."
No more was said, and in another minute the friends met. It was a
boisterously jolly meeting, as far as shaking hands and mutual
felicitations on each other's good looks and health went. Saville was,
I thought, the most obstreperously gay of all three.
"And yet, now I look at you, Saville, closely," said Hartley, "you
don't look quite the thing. Have you seen a ghost?"
"No; but this cursed brooch affair worries me."
"Nonsense!--humbug!--it's all right: we are all embarked in the same
boat. It's a regular three-handed game. I prigged it; Simmy here
whipped it into pretty Mary's reticule, which she, I suppose, never
looked into till the row came; and _you_ claimed it--a regular
merry-go-round, eh? Ha! ha! ha!"
"Quite so, Mr. Hartley," said I, suddenly facing him, and at the same
time stamping on the floor; "as you say, a delightful merry-go-round;
and here, you perceive, I added, as the officers crowded into the
room, are more gentlemen to join in it."
I must not stain the paper with the curses, imprecations, blasphemies,
which for a brief space resounded through the apartment. The rascals
were safely and separately locked up a quarter of an hour afterwards;
and before a month had passed away, all three were transported. It is
scarcely necessary to remark, that they believed the brooch to be
genuine, and of great value.
Mary Kingsford did not need to return to her employ. Westlake the
elder withdrew his veto upon his son's choice, and the wedding was
celebrated in the following May with great rejoicing; Mary's old
playmate officiating as bridesmaid, and I as bride's-father. The still
young couple have now a rather numerous family, and a home blessed
with affection, peace, and competence. It was some time, however,
before Mary recovered from the shock of her London adventure; and I am
pretty sure that the disagreeable reminiscences inseparately connected
in her mind with the metropolis will prevent at least _one_ person
from being present at the World's Great Fair.
_Historical Review of the Month._
THE UNITED STATES.
Our record of home affairs for the past month presents several points
of more than usual interest. Two different movements, both of which
originated in the Southern States, kept awake the public curiosity for
three or four weeks past, though at the time these sheets are going
through the press both appear to be rapidly subsiding.
Soon after the withdrawal of the Government prosecution against Gen.
Henderson, Lopez, Gen. Quitman, and the other persons arraigned for
trial as having been engaged in getting up a hostile expedition
against Cuba, rumors of a second attempt being in preparation, began
to be circulated through the country. Little attention was at first
paid to these rumors, but the matter soon assumed a more definite
shape, and the Southern newspapers began to notice the congregation of
suspicious persons at different points on or near the coast. From the
intelligence which the Government received, it became evident that an
extensive expedition, was on foot, the object of which was the
invasion of Cuba. The United States officers were ordered to be on the
watch, for the purpose of obtaining more particular intelligence of
its movements.
Two or three thousand men had collected in the neighborhood of
Jacksonville, Florida, which had been selected as the principal
rendezvous of the expedition. These men awaited the arrival of a
steamer from New-York, which had been chartered by parties there. The
Government, however, had already received intelligence of their plans,
and instructions were at once sent to the United States Marshal at
New-York, to prevent the departure of the steamer. This officer,
accompanied by a police force, sailed down the bay in search of the
suspected craft. In the mean time it was found that the steamer
Cleopatra, a large boat, formerly employed on the Sound as a passenger
boat, was the vessel indicated. She was then lying at one of the piers
on the North River, and was immediately seized and placed under the
supervision of the United States authorities. She was alleged to be
bound to Galveston, Texas. A large quantity of coal was found on
board, and a great number of water casks, and but few arms or
ammunition of any kind. A file of marines from the Navy Yard was
placed on board, and all communication with the shore forbidden. No
final disposition has yet been made of the vessel, though orders were
received to deliver her cargo to any person who may establish his
ownership to the articles found on board.
At the same time, notice was received by the Marshal that a number of
Germans and others had assembled at South Amboy for the purpose of
embarking on some secret expedition, and one of the Deputy Marshals
was sent there for the purpose of procuring information. Disguising
himself as a German emigrant, he obtained sufficient evidence to
warrant the arrest of the following six persons: William T. Rogers,
Jr., John L. O'Sullivan, Capt. Lewis, of the steamboat Creole, a
member of the former expedition; Major Louis Schlesinger, one of the
Hungarian refugees; Pedro Sanchez Yznaga, a Cuban refugee; and Dr.
Daniel H. Burtnett. Each of the parties was held to bail in the sum of
$3,000, to appear for examination.
The movement must have been of considerable magnitude, but there was
evidently a want of concert among its members, which may have led to
its abandonment. From what could be ascertained, it was not the
intention of the leaders to organize the expedition in this country,
but to sail to some point beyond the limits of the United States, and
there concentrate their forces for the invasion.
The South Carolina State Rights Convention assembled at Charleston on
the 5th of May. The Hon. J. P. Richardson, Ex-Governor of the State,
was appointed President. Forty district associations were represented,
and 431 Delegates took their seats. The President, in his opening
address, reviewed the present position of the South, and considered
that, under existing circumstances, Southern institutions could not
exist twenty years. He discussed at some length the want of affinity
between the two sections of the Union, and expressed his conviction
that those whom God and Nature have put asunder should not be joined
together. On the second day, a letter from the Hon. Langdon Cheves was
read, excusing his non-attendance. He deprecated separate State
action, believing that one State cannot stand alone in the midst of
her sister States.
A committee of twenty-one was appointed to prepare resolutions and an
address, which were adopted, after considerable discussion. The
following are the resolutions, which embody the sentiments of the
Convention:
1. _Resolved_, That in the opinion of this meeting the State of South
Carolina cannot submit to the wrongs and aggressions which have been
perpetrated by the Federal Government and the Northern States, without
dishonor and ruin; and that it is necessary for her to relieve herself
therefrom, whether with or without the co-operation of other Southern
States.
2. _Resolved_, That concert of action with one or more of our sister
States of the South, whether through the proposed Southern Congress,
or in any other manner, is an object worth many sacrifices, but not
the sacrifice involved in submission.
3. _Resolved_, That we hold the right of secession to be essential to
the sovereignty and freedom of the States of this confederacy; and
that the denial of that right would furnish to an injured State the
strongest additional cause for its exercise.
4. _Resolved_, That this meeting looks with confidence and hope to the
Convention of the People, to exert the sovereign power of the State in
defence of its rights, at the earliest practicable period and in the
most effectual manner, and to the Legislature, to adopt the most
speedy and effectual measures toward the same end.
Mr. Barnwell and two other members of the Committee presented a
minority Report, referring the whole matter to the action of the
Legislature. Judge Butler, U. S. Senator, also recommended a
postponement of any decisive step. The original Report, however, was
adopted, and the Convention adjourned _sine die_. The subject has
occasioned but little excitement out of South Carolina, and it is not
anticipated that any other State will pursue a similar course.
The Mexican Government has made a formal complaint to the President of
the United States, in relation to the Indian outrages along the
frontier, which the United States were bound to suppress, according to
the Treaty of Guadaloupe Hidalgo. It is believed that a demand of a
million of dollars will be made for damages which the Indians have
already caused; besides which, Mexico refuses to ratify the
Tchuantepec Treaty, unless these provisions are fulfilled. At the last
session of Congress, the appropriation asked by the War Department for
this purpose, was not made; besides which, the troops most serviceable
for such a warfare have been disbanded.
An order has been issued by the President, that the tracts of land in
Iowa, occupied by General Ujhazy and the other Hungarian exiles, shall
be withheld from sale until the end of the next session of Congress,
with a view to making application to that body for a grant of the
lands.
The Massachusetts Legislature, after a struggle of four months,
succeeded in electing a U. S. Senator on the 24th of April. Charles
Sumner, Esq., the Free Soil Candidate, was chosen on that day, by 193
votes, precisely the number necessary for election. The Boston Board
of Aldermen, who had passed a resolution refusing the use of Faneuil
Hall for a public address by Daniel Webster, have since then retracted
the step and concurred with the Common Council in inviting Mr. Webster
to address the citizens of Boston. Faneuil Hall, hereafter, is to be
granted on all occasions, at the application of one hundred voters.
Before leaving Boston, Mr. Webster delivered a speech to the citizens
of Boston, from the steps of the Revere House.
The Legislature of New-York adjourned on the 17th of April. The
question of the enlargement of the Erie Canal was before the Senate,
when twelve of the Democratic members of that body resigned their
seats in order to prevent the passage of the bill, by leaving the
senate without a quorum. The usual annual appropriations had not been
voted, and the Government was thus placed without the means of
sustaining its operations. An extra session of the Legislature has
been called by Governor Hunt, for the 10th of June. Elections have
been ordered, in the mean time, to fill the vacancies caused by the
resignation of the Senators. The Members of the Assembly, of both
parties, published manifestoes in relation to the question.
The Atlantic Coast and the Lakes have been visited this spring with a
succession of tremendous gales, which have done an immense amount of
damage in various quarters. A storm arose along the Northeastern
coast, on the 15th of April, and at noon on the following day the tide
was higher at Boston than had ever been known before. On the principal
wharves of the city the water was three or four feet deep, and the
streets were so flooded that a large boat could be rowed around the
Custom House. An immense amount of damage was done to private
property, and many lives were lost. The railroad tracks all around the
city were submerged, and in many places torn up and washed away. All
along the coast, from New Bedford to Portland, the gale raged with
nearly equal violence, causing much injury to the shipping. The loss
of property is estimated at more than one million of dollars.
On the night of the 17th of April, the third day of the storm, the
light-house on Minot's Ledge, at the entrance of Boston harbor, was
carried away, and the two men in it at the time drowned. Mr. Bennett,
the keeper, who had been to Boston, was prevented from returning to it
by the rough sea, and thus escaped. It was formed of wrought iron
bars, riveted into the rock, and rising to the height of sixty feet,
having chambers in the upper part for the keeper and his assistants.
The light-house had been severely tested in the late equinoctial
storm, and was considered secure.
His Excellency, President Fillmore, accompanied by the Hon. Daniel
Webster, Secretary of State; Hon. William A. Graham, Secretary of the
Navy; Hon. J. J. Crittenden, Attorney General; and Hon. N. K. Hall,
Postmaster General, left Washington on the 12th of May, in order to be
present at the opening of the Erie Railroad from New-York to Dunkirk.
They were received with great enthusiasm on the way; at Baltimore and
Wilmington they were officially welcomed, and were met at the latter
place by the Mayor and Common Council of Philadelphia, who escorted
them to that city.
Here the people turned out to give them a public reception, and
speeches were made by the President and Mr. Webster. On their way to
New-York they were met at Amboy by the Erie Railroad Company's steamer
and conveyed to the city, saluted on the way by national salutes from
the forts in the harbor, and the military companies of the city, who
were drawn up on the Battery, to receive the distinguished visitors.
The ceremonies of welcome were performed in Castle Garden, where the
President and Secretaries were welcomed by Mayor Kingsland. Eloquent
speeches were made in return by the President, Mr. Webster, and Mr.
Crittenden. A military procession more than a mile in length, was then
formed, and marched through the principal streets, which were thronged
with spectators. Flags were waving from every point, and as the day
was remarkably bright and warm, the spectacle was one of unusual life
and animation.
The Company's boat left New-York at 6 o'clock on the morning of the
14th, having on board the President and Secretaries, all the principal
State officers except Governor Hunt, the officers of the Erie Railroad
Company, a large representation from the State Senate and Assembly,
and both boards of the Common Council of the city, besides a number of
other distinguished persons. At Piermont, three special trains
received the company, 600 in all, and the grand march of 450 miles,
through what was lately the wilderness of the State, from the Hudson
to Lake Erie, commenced. All along the line of the road the people
turned out _en masse_, cannons were fired and bells rung as the trains
passed, and triumphal arches erected over the road. Brief addresses
were made at the principal stations by the President, Mr. Webster, Mr.
Seward, Mr. Crittenden, and other distinguished guests. The trains
stopped at Elmira for the night, and proceeded next day to Dunkirk,
which they reached in the afternoon. Here the crowning celebration was
made. All the country, far and near, arose to hail the completion of
the greatest railroad enterprise in the world. After the meeting, a
grand barbecue was held: two oxen and ten sheep were roasted whole,
and the company regaled on a magnificent scale. The day following this
opening excursion, the regular passenger trains commenced running from
New-York to Dunkirk. The distance between the Ocean and Lake Erie is
now but a summer's day.
In the Connecticut Legislature the Democratic candidate for Governor,
Mr. Seymour, was elected by a majority of one vote. The Legislature of
Rhode Island, on the 10th of May, restored to Ex-Gov. Dorr,
(well-known as the leader of "Dorr's Rebellion,") all the rights and
privileges of a citizen.
M. Bois Le Compte, the French Minister at Washington, who has been
recalled by his Government, took leave of the President on the 2d of
May, and will shortly return to France.
Jenny Lind reached New-York in the beginning of May, after a
triumphant tour of five months in the South and West. She commenced a
series of farewell concerts on the 7th. She was received with as full
a house and scarcely less enthusiasm than on the night of her first
appearance in America. The Firemen of the city, in return for her
donation of $3000 to the Widows' and Orphans' Fund, have presented her
with a resolution of thanks inclosed in a gold box, and a copy of
Audubon's Birds of America in a rosewood case.
A fire occurred at Santa Fe, New Mexico, on the 22d of April, which
destroyed the finest hotel in the place. Col. Sumner, who is to take
command of the United States military force in the Department, carries
with him a large amount of seeds, grains, improved stock, farming
utensils, and apparatus for developing the capacity of the soil. It is
designed to make the United States troops in New Mexico support
themselves as far as possible. The Apache Indians have been very
troublesome, but a treaty of amity has been effected with their
principal chief, Chacon. The Mexican citizens are well satisfied with
the establishment of the Territorial Government.
The California mails of March 15th and April 1st have been received.
The steamers which sailed from San Francisco on those days took away
more than $3,500,000 in gold dust for the Atlantic States. The news is
generally of a very favorable character. The severe drought which had
prevailed through the whole winter, terminated on the 17th of March,
when a succession of heavy showers commenced, the effect of which had
been to revive business of all kinds. The miners in the dry diggings
had a sufficiency of water to wash out their piles of dirt, and the
gold dust, flowing into the centres of trades, soon dissipated the
dulness which had fallen upon business of all kinds. Agricultural
prospects have also brightened, and the crops of California will this
year be an important feature of her products. The odious tax of $20
per month on all foreign miners has been repealed, and the Mexicans
and Chilians who were last year driven out of the country will
probably return.
The Legislature still continues in session, and since its futile
attempt to elect a United States Senator, has gone vigorously to work.
The sale of lottery tickets has been prohibited; the sum of $200,000
appropriated for the pay of persons engaged in military operations
against the Indians, and the State Treasurer authorized to obtain a
loan of $500,000. The District Court of Sacramento has given a
decision sustaining the suitors of claims on all lands on which the
city is located. A fugitive slave case--the first in California--has
been settled at San Francisco. The owner of a slave, who had employed
him in the mines for three or four months, was about to return with
him to the Atlantic States. But as the slave preferred remaining, a
writ of habeas corpus was procured and a hearing had before the Court,
which decided that the <DW64> was at liberty to stay and could not be
removed against his will.
A fire broke out in a bowling alley in Nevada City, on the 12th of
March, and spread so rapidly that before it could be subdued, the
largest and best portion of the city was in ashes. One hundred and
twenty-eight houses were destroyed, and the entire loss is estimated
at $300,000.
Accounts from all parts of the gold region give flattering accounts of
the golden harvest for the present year. The richest locality appears
to be the district lying between Feather River and the American Fork,
embracing the Yuba and its tributaries. The northern mines, on
Trinity, Scott's and Klamath Rivers, continue to attract attention. On
the Mokelumne River, gold is found in large quantities on the sides
and summits of the hills. A placer of the precious metal has also been
discovered by the Mexicans near San Diego. The operations in quartz
mining promise to be very profitable. A vein near Nevada City has been
sold for $130,000. Later accounts from the Gold Bluff are more
encouraging. The top sand was washed away during a severe gale, and
the heavy substratum, being washed, was found to yield from three to
eight ounces to each pailful. Messrs. Moffat & Co., who obtained the
Government contract for assaying gold, received deposits of gold dust
amounting to $100,000 in two hours after opening their office. The
operations of the office had such an effect that the bankers of San
Francisco were compelled to raise the price of gold dust to $17 per
ounce, in order to have any share in the trade.
Professor Forest Shepard, of New-Haven, who has been prosecuting
geological explorations in different parts of California, has
discovered a remarkable valley in the Coast Range, north of Napa
Valley. It is an immense chasm, 1000 feet deep, in the bottom of which
was a large number of boiling springs and jets of steam, with here and
there a fountain of hot water, similar to the geysers of Iceland.
There are more than two hundred in all, within a compass of half a
mile square. The soil of the valley was so warm that, although it was
in the middle of winter, flowers were in full bloom and a luxuriant
vegetation springing on all sides. It is Professor Shepard's intention
to claim a portion of the valley, build a house thereon, and plant
tropical trees in the warm soil.
The Hon. Samuel R. Thurston, Delegate to Congress from Oregon
Territory, died on the 9th ult., on board the steamer California,
bound from Panama to San Francisco. His remains were taken to Acapulco
for interment.
Our news from Oregon is to the 22d of March. A discovery has been made
by Capt. George Drew, of a vein of coal on the Cowlitz River, eighteen
miles from its junction with the Columbia, and about one mile from the
main Cowlitz. The vein is two feet thick and about half a mile in
width, fifteen feet above high water mark and about forty feet below
the surface of the bluff mountain. Governor Ogden, of the Hudson's Bay
Company, at Vancouver, sent a boat and crew to bring a quantity away,
that it may be fairly tested.
EUROPE.
The Grand Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations, in the Crystal
Palace at LONDON, was opened on Thursday, May 1, with appropriate and
imposing ceremonies. Just before twelve o'clock, which was the hour
appointed for the arrival of the Queen, the rain that had been falling
at intervals during the day ceased altogether, and the sun shone forth
from a cloudless sky. On the appearance of the Royal cortege, the
utmost enthusiasm was manifested by the people who thronged the
vicinity of the Palace, and, in the midst of the cheers of the
multitude, and the flourish of military music, the Queen, accompanied
by Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales, and the Princess Royal, was
ushered into the interior of the building. She was welcomed by the
vast assemblage with repeated and universal cheers, ladies waved their
handkerchiefs, gentlemen their hats, and the whole scene presented a
spectacle of unrivalled splendor. After she had ascended the throne,
which was a raised platform surmounted with a blue canopy ornamented
with feathers, the National Anthem was sung by an immense choir under
direction of Sir Henry Bishop. When the music had ceased, Prince
Albert presented to the Queen the report of the proceedings of the
Commissioners, to which she replied in a short speech. The Archbishop
of Canterbury then offered the prayer of inauguration, at the close of
which the Hallelujah Chorus was sung. A procession was now formed,
composed of the architect, contractors, and officials engaged in the
construction of the Crystal Palace, the Foreign Commissioners, the
Royal Commissioners, Foreign Ambassadors, and the members of the Royal
Family. After making the circuit of the building in the procession,
the Queen resumed her seat on the platform, and announced by a herald
that the Exhibition was opened. A flourish of trumpets and a discharge
of artillery proclaimed the fact to the thronging multitudes on the
outside. The Queen, attended by the Court, then withdrew from the
building; the choir again struck up the strain of the National Anthem;
the barriers, which had confined the spectators within certain limits,
were removed; and the whole mass of visitors poured over every part of
the magnificent edifice, eager to gratify a highly excited curiosity.
The number of exhibitors, whose productions are now displayed in the
Crystal Palace, is about 15,000. One-half of these are British
subjects. The remainder represent the industry of more than forty
other nations, comprising nearly every civilized country on the globe.
The Exhibition is divided into four classes; 1. Raw Materials; 2.
Machinery; 3. Manufactures; 4. Sculpture and the Fine Arts. A further
division is made, according to the geographical position of the
countries represented, those which lie within the warmer latitudes
being placed near the centre of the building, and the colder countries
at the extremities. The Crystal Palace, which was commenced on the
26th of September, and has accordingly been completed in the short
space of seven months, occupies an extent of about 18 acres, measuring
1,851 feet in length, and 556 in breadth, and affords a frontage for
the exhibition of goods amounting in the aggregate to over 10 miles.
It can accommodate at one time 40,000 visitors.
An interesting debate took place in the BRITISH House of Commons on
the 3d of April, upon a motion by Mr. Herries for the repeal of the
Income Tax. In an elaborate speech supporting his motion, Mr. Herries
maintained that the Income Tax was proposed by Sir Robert Peel in
order to meet a peculiar emergency occasioned by the maladministration
of the Whigs prior to 1841. He presented a minute calculation for the
purpose of showing that two-sevenths of the tax might be remitted
without damage to the financial interests of the nation, and that the
remission of L1,560,000 would be a greater relief than the removal of
the window-tax. In reply to Mr. Herries, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer contended that the measures contemplated in the motion were
of the most disastrous tendency, and recommended the House to vote an
Income Tax for three years. On a division of the House, Mr. Herries'
motion was lost by a majority of 48.
The subject of Colonial Expenditures has elicited a warm debate in the
House of Commons. Sir William Molesworth argued in favor of giving the
means of local self-government to all colonies which are not military
stations nor convict settlements. The colonies cost the United Kingdom
the enormous sum of L4,000,000 sterling. He believed the military
force maintained in the various colonies might be cut down to less
than half the present establishment without injury to the Government.
Under proper regulations, 17,000 men would be sufficient for the
colonial garrisons, instead of 45,000. For colonial services the
troops should be paid by the colonies--for Imperial purposes, by the
General Government. He contended that in the North American colonies,
the expenditure for military affairs should be reduced L400,000 per
annum, and in the West Indies L250,000. From the Australian colonies
nearly the whole military force might be withdrawn to advantage.
Unless the military operations were discontinued in South Africa, the
war would cost L1,000,000 more than the value of the colony. In
conclusion, he estimated that the adoption of his measures would save
the Government at least L1,800,000 in military and civil expenditure.
The views of Sir William Molesworth were ably sustained by other
members, while, on the contrary, Lord John Russell declared they were
of a ruinous tendency, and earnestly protested against their adoption.
If the plan were carried into effect, the glory of the British nation
would be destroyed. She could no longer maintain her proud position
before the world. The integrity of her empire would be annihilated,
and she would be exposed to the attack of foreign powers. The debate
was finally adjourned without a division.
The latest intelligence concerning Miss Talbot, whose relation to the
Roman Catholic controversy has produced such a general excitement in
England, is her decision to accept of a proposal of marriage from Lord
Edward Howard, a Catholic nobleman of wealth and character.
Application was made by the friends of the parties for the consent of
the Lord Chancellor, which was given without hesitation.
The British Government has presented a memorial to the Courts of
Berlin and Vienna, on the subject of admitting non-German territories
into the Confederation, and insisting on a strict adherence to the
Treaty of Vienna.
A new cabinet has been formed in FRANCE, consisting of Baroche,
Rouher, Fould, Leon-Faucher, Buffet, Chasseloup Laubat, de
Crouseilhes, Randon and Maque. The most prominent of these ministers
are Baroche, Fould, and Leon-Faucher. They are all taken from the
minority of the Assembly, and their choice will increase the
difference between the President and that body. Baroche and Fould were
members of the ministry which was obliged to retire in January last,
before the opposition of the Assembly. Leon-Faucher labors under the
stigma of having used the telegraph for electioneering purposes, for
which he was condemned by the vote of the constituent assembly. Buffet
was minister of commerce and agriculture in the administration of
O'Dillon-Barrot. He is inclined to free trade sentiments, agreeing for
the most part with Leon-Faucher in his commercial views. De
Crouseilhes is a legitimist. He is an ex-peer of France, but has been
more distinguished for his private worth than his political ability.
Chasseloup Laubat has been in official employment since 1828, though
he is still under fifty years of age. The best debater in the new
ministry is undoubtedly Baroche, whose sagacity and mental vigor
cannot be mistaken.
The political condition of France is still the subject of much
speculation, but no definite conclusions can be arrived at in the
present fluctuations of parties. Every thing shows the uncertainty
which pervades the public mind. The President has renounced the hope
of improving his political prospects, by obtaining a revision of the
constitution. This could not be carried without a majority of
three-fourths of the Assembly, while at least nearly 190 of the most
strenuous republicans are decidedly opposed to the measure. The
government is now sustained by the legitimists, who perceive no
immediate hope of the accomplishment of their favorite plans. The
partisans of Cavaignac are in favor of the speedy resignation of the
President. In their opinion, this is necessary, in order to anticipate
the general election, and thus prevent the difficulties that would
ensue by the dissolution of the Assembly, without an established
executive. Others, on the contrary, are in favor of extending the
Presidential term for the period of ten years. A reconciliation was
about to take place, according to the general rumor, between the
President and General Changarnier. The government has demanded of the
cabinet at London the expulsion of Ledru Rollin and other active
politicians among the French refugees. With the present facilities of
communication between London and Paris, their influence was believed
to be adverse to the policy of the French government, and to increase
the difficulties of the existing crisis.
An insurrection, headed by the Duke of Saldanha, has been attempted in
Cientra, PORTUGAL. The insurgents were about five thousand in number,
and displayed considerable determination. Their leader is a man of
great energy, and has had no small experience in political
disturbances. He belongs to the reactionary party. The King, who
commands the army in person, has occupied the fortress of Santarem,
and the chances of the insurgents appear desperate, although they are
said to have some friends in the royal army. The garrison at Oporto
have declared for Saldanha, and the inhabitants of that city are
generally on his side. He had decided to abandon the contest, and
embark for England, but was recalled by the insurgents.
The King of NAPLES has prohibited his subjects from taking part in the
Exhibition of the World's Fair, and from being present at it as
visitors. The King of Sardinia proposes to visit England during the
Exhibition.
The Emperor of RUSSIA has appointed a Committee of manufacturers and
scientific men, under the Presidency of the Director General of Public
Works to visit the Exhibition, and also to examine the principal
manufacturing establishments of France. He has also given permission
to his subjects who may attend the exhibition, to pass through France
on complying with certain conditions.
The city of DRONTHEIM has again suffered from a popular outbreak,
although not from political causes. The military and burgher guard
were compelled to interfere, and several arrests took place. The
difficulty originated in the prohibition of the sale of fish by the
peasantry, in compliance with the demands of the licensed fishermen.
A misunderstanding of a serious nature has occurred between the
Emperor of AUSTRIA and the Sultan of TURKEY. This has resulted in the
withdrawal of the Austrian minister from Constantinople. The Sultan is
charged with refusing to comply with the demands of the Emperor in
regard to Kossuth and the other Hungarian prisoners. He declines
detaining them after the expiration of the year during which he had
promised to hold them in custody. An additional offence is his
presentation of a claim upon the Austrian treasury for the expenses of
the detention.
At our last dates from TURKEY, the Bosnian insurrection had been
conducted with great activity, although it has probably been
suppressed by Omer Pasha. A sanguinary engagement between the Sultan's
troops and a body of fifteen thousand insurgents has taken place in
the vicinity of Jaicza, in which several hundred of the combatants on
both sides were killed or mortally wounded. The conflict terminated in
favor of the rebels.
_Recent Deaths._
CAPTAIN J. D. CUNNINGHAM, of the Bengal Engineers, author of the
_History of the Sikhs_, died in India on the twenty-eight of February,
in consequence, it is said, of his removal from the political agency
of Bhopaul, where his services and abilities had been highly valued.
The act of the "Company" fell with peculiar hardship upon an officer
who had passed twenty years of honorable and uninterrupted service in
every climate of India, and whose error (if any were committed by the
publication in question) was certainly not of a character demanding
censure so grave. It will be recollected that the book threw some new
light on the conduct of Lord Hardinge at Sobraon, and that the writer
was dismissed on the charge of having, "without authority," published
documents officially intrusted to his charge. The friends of Captain
Cunningham aver that he had formerly asked permission, and he
construed the reply to be an expression of indifference on the part of
the directors. It was never pretended that an unworthy motive had
influenced him, or that he had acted on any other than a desire
(however mistaken) to promote the welfare of the government to which
he was attached. It is understood that Captain Cunningham's health
broke soon after this painful misunderstanding, and that its effects
pursued him to his death. He was a son of Allan Cunningham, had
distinguished himself greatly in all his Indian employments, and had
not completed his fortieth year.
* * * * *
The _Glasgow Citizen_ calls attention to the death of Mr. JOHN
HENNING, the well-known Paisley artist, whose studies from the Elgin
marbles and cartoons after Raphad obtained so much distinction for
himself, and contributed so largely to the diffusion of a general
taste for the fine arts amongst his countrymen. Mr. Henning was a
self-taught sculptor, and devoted twelve years of his life, under
great difficulties, to the restoration of the Greek marbles brought
over by Lord Elgin. His copies of these on a reduced scale are so well
known and esteemed as to render eulogium on their merits here
unnecessary. Many busts of his contemporaries remain to testify
further to the excellence of his hand. He was one of the men whom his
native town "delighted to honor."
* * * * *
PADRE ROZAVEN, one of the most famous of modern Jesuits, and
distinguished by divers polemical treatises, as well as by a long
residence and religious warfare in Russia, has just died in Rome in
his eighty-second year.
* * * * *
PRINCE WITTGENSTEIN, Minister of the Royal House of Prussia, died on
the 11th April, at Berlin, at the age of eighty-one. He had been in
the service of the state fifty-six years, and had filled the post in
which he died since 1819.
* * * * *
HENRY BICKERSTETH, LORD LANGDALE, late Master of the Rolls, died on
Good Friday, at Tunbridge Wells, to which place he had lately repaired
for the benefit of his health--impaired by long-continued mental
labor, resulting in a paralytic stroke, which took place shortly
before his death. He was born on the eighteenth of June, 1783, in the
county of Westmoreland, where his father was possessed of a small
property. Originally destined for the medical profession (of which his
father was a member), in which he had completed his studies, he
visited the Continent with the family of the late Earl of Oxford, by
whose advice he was induced to embark on the career of the bar. He
entered Caius College, Cambridge, where he took his degrees as senior
wrangler in 1808. Three years afterwards he was called to the bar, and
engaged at once in the duties of his profession. He rapidly rose to
great eminence in the Equity Courts, to which he confined his
practice. On the nineteenth of January, 1836, he was appointed to
succeed Lord Cottenham as Master of the Rolls, and was at the same
time called to the House of Peers. But a few months had elapsed after
his accession to the mastership of the rolls when Lord Langdale
delivered in the House of Lords his remarkable speech on the
administration of justice in the Court of Chancery, and on the
appellate jurisdiction of their lordships' house, and to the opinions
expressed in that speech, and in favor of the division of the duties
of the Great Seal, he constantly adhered. On the resignation of Lord
Cottenham last year, the Great Seal was more than once tendered to
Lord Langdale by the head of the present administration; but though he
consented to act as first commissioner, and sat for a short time in
the Lord Chancellor's court, and in the House of Lords, in that
capacity, the intense application to which the state of the Court of
Chancery had condemned him forbade a further stretch of his powers.
* * * * *
GENERAL E. J. ROBERTS, for many years conspicuous as an editor and a
politician in the state of New York, died at the age of fifty-five, a
few weeks ago, at Detroit. He formerly edited _The Craftsman_, at
Rochester, and in 1830 was editor of a journal of that title in
Albany. He removed to Michigan in 1834, and filled very important
offices in that state. He was a member of the state senate at the time
of his death.
* * * * *
From Stockholm is announced the death, at the age of seventy-one, of
the distinguished botanist and geologist, M. GOREAN-WAHLENBERG,
Professor at the University of Upsal, and director of the botanical
garden in the same institution. M. Wahlenberg is stated to have spent
thirty out of his seventy-one years in scientific journies through the
different countries of Europe; and the results of these travels he has
recorded in a variety of learned works. He left his rich collection
and numerous library to the University of Upsal; in which he was a
student,--and to which he was attached in various capacities during
upwards of forty-three years.
* * * * *
We lack room for notices of the lives of Archbishop ECLESTON, of
Baltimore; General BRADY, of the United States Army; and Mr. PHILIP
HONE, three eminent persons who have died since our last publication.
E. E. MARCY, M.D., AUTHOR OF THE "HOMOEOPATHIC THEORY AND PRACTICE."
[Illustration]
Dr. Marcy is one of the thousand or more physicians of the old school
who have become homoeopathists. With professional eminence, and a
liberal fortune, he joined the converts to the doctrine of Hahnemann,
and at once took rank among the most distinguished physicians of the
new practice. Homoeopathy is one of the grand facts of this age. It
is no longer laughed at, but has reached that condition which enables
it to challenge a respectful consideration from all who would not
themselves be subjects of ridicule. Of educated and thoughtful men, in
our large cities, it is contended that more than one-half are of its
supporters. In Great Britain we see that Archbishop Whately, the
Chevalier Bunsen, and Dr. Scott of Owen's College, constitute a trio
of its literary adherents. Cobden, Leslie, and Wilson, are examples of
its parliamentary partizans. Radetzky, Pulzsky, and General
Farquharson, rank among its numerous military defenders. Leaf, Sugden,
and Forbes, are three of its great London merchants. The Duke of
Hamilton, the Earls of Wilton, Shrewsbury, Erne, and Denbigh, and
Lords Robert Grosvenor, Newport, and Kinnaird, may serve for its guard
of honor. Queen Adelaide was one of its numerous royal and noble
patients, and the Duchess of Kent is the patroness of a great fair to
be held for the benefit of some of its institutions in London during
this present month of June--in the very heyday of the exhibition
season. In France, Guizot, Changarnier, Comte, Lamartine, and some
forty members of the Academy, are among its advocates. Here in
New-York, it is sufficient to say of the character of the society in
which it is received, that it includes Bryant, who has been among the
most active of its lay teachers.
It is clear that homoeopathy not only spreads apace, but that it
also spreads in all sorts of good directions, through the present
fabric of society. And this fact certainly conveys the idea that there
must be some sort of truth in homoeopathy; whether pure or mixed,
whether negative or affirmative, whether critical of something old, or
declaratory of something new.
Dr. Marcy is one of the leaders of the sect. He is the son of an
eminent lawyer, who for more than twenty years has been in the
legislature of Massachusetts; he was graduated at Amherst College,
took his degree of Doctor in Medicine at the University of
Pennsylvania, and for ten years devoted himself with great success to
medicine and surgery in Hartford: in surgery, on several occasions,
commanding the applause of both European and American academies. As a
chemist, also, he greatly distinguished himself; and it is not too
much to say, that in the application of chemistry to the arts, he has
been more fortunate than any other American. At length, while
travelling in Europe, he became a convert to the theory, _similia
similibus curantur_, and renouncing his earlier notions, gave himself
up to the study of it. He published, six months ago, in a volume of
six hundred pages, _The Homoeopathic Theory and Practice of
Medicine_, of which a second edition is now in press; and he is
industriously occupied, when not attending to the general business of
his profession, with a voluminous work on _Animal Chemistry_.
It is admitted by the most wise and profoundly learned physicians of
the allopathic practice, that the laws of that practice are for the
most part vague and uncertain. The cumulative experiences of many ages
have shown indeed that certain substances have certain effects in
certain conditions of the human organism; but the processes by which
these effects are induced are unknown, or not so established as justly
to be regarded as a part of science. Facts have been observed, and
hypotheses have been formed, but there has been no demonstrative
generalization, really no philosophy of disease and cure; and while in
almost every other department, investigation and reflection have led
by a steady and sure advance to the establishment of positive and
immutable principles, medicine has made, except in a few specialities,
no advance at all, unless the theory here disclosed shall prove a
solution of its secrets. Of these specialities, the most important has
been the discovery of the homoeopathic law in the isolated case of
smallpox. Every body knows how difficult and slow was the reception of
the principle of inoculation--of _similia similibus curantur_--in this
disease; but it was received at last universally; and then arose
Hahnemann, to claim for every disorder of the human system the
application of the same principle. Right or wrong, the father of
homoeopathy gave us a system, perfect in its parts, universal in its
fitness, and eminently beautiful in its simplicity. It has been half a
century before the world, and though all the universities have
parleyed and made truce with other innovations and asserted heresies,
and opened against this their heaviest and best plied artillery, it is
not to be denied that homoeopathy has made more rapid, diffusive,
and pervading advances, than were ever before made by any doctrine of
equal importance, either in morals or physics.
We cannot but admit that we have been accustomed to regard the
theories of Hahnemann with distrust, and that the principle of the
attenuation of drugs, etc., viewed as it was by us through the media
of prejudiced and satirical opposition, seemed to be trivial and
absurd. We heard frequently of remarkable cures by Hahnemann's
disciples, and even witnessed the benefits of their treatment, but so
perfectly had the sharp ridicule of the allopathists warped our
judgment and moulded our feelings, that we felt a sort of humiliation
in confessing an advantage from an "infinitesimal dose." We could
never forget the keen and brilliant wit with which our friend Holmes,
for example, assailed a system which threatened to take away his
practice and patients, deprive him of his income, and consign his
professional erudition and ingenious speculation to oblivion. But the
work of Dr. Marcy displayed these matters to us in an entirely
different light, and guarded by walls of truths and arguments quite
impenetrable by the most finely pointed or most powerful satire. His
well-known abilities, great learning, and long successful experience
as an allopathist, gave us assurance that his conversion to the school
of Hahnemann could have been induced only by inherent elements of
extraordinary force and vitality in its principles, and we looked to
him confidently, when we understood that he was preparing for the
press an exhibition and vindication of homoeopathy, for such a work
as should at least screen the layman who accepted its doctrines from
the reproach of fanatical or credulous weakness. We were not
disappointed. He has given us a simple and powerful appeal to the
common sense upon the whole subject. In language terse, direct, and
perspicuous, and with such bravery as belongs to the consciousness of
a championship for truth, he displays every branch of his law, with
its antagonism, and leads his readers captive to an assenting
conclusion.
Dr. Marcy's work is the first by an American on the Homoeopathic
Theory and Practice of Medicine; it is at least a very able and
attractive piece of philosophical speculation; and to those who are
still disposed to think with little respect of the Hahnemannic
peculiarities, we specially commend, before they venture another jest
upon the subject, or endure any more needless nausea and torture, or
sacrifice another constitution or life upon the altar of prejudice,
the reading of his capital chapters on Allopathy, Homoeopathy, and
the Attenuation of Drugs and Repetition of Doses.
The London _Leader_ demands attention to the scholarship of the
homoeopathic physicians, to their respectability as thinkers and as
men, and to the character of their writings; and surveying the
extraordinary and steady advances of the homoeopathic sect, urges
that every thing, which has at any time won for itself a broad footing
in the world, must have been possessed by some spirit of truth. Every
thoughtful person knows that no system stands fast in virtue of the
errors about it. It is the amount of truth it contains, however little
and overlaid that may be, which enables an institution or a doctrine
to keep its ground. The extent and quality of that ground, taken
together with the length of time it is kept, constitute a measure of
the quantity of truth by which a militant institute is inspired and
sustained.
_Ladies' Fashions for the Season._
[Illustration]
In Paris and London the chief novelties have been preparations for the
London season. Head-dress is particularly rich, by no means lacking
lively colors, and ornamented with gold, silver, and beads. We only
speak here of fancy head-dress; for diamonds are always very much
admired for a rare and _recherchee parure_. Never have they been so
well set as at the present day, both as regards elegance, lightness,
and convenience. Thus, each night a lady may change the disposition of
her brilliants: to-day she may form them into a band, like a diadem;
to-morrow, a row of pins for the body of her dress; another time she
can place them on a velvet necklace, and so forth.
Fancy head-dresses are made of lace, blond, silk, gold, or silver.
Flowers of all kinds are also worn, and above all foliage of velvet
and satin, deep shaded, enriched with white or gold beads, and gold or
silver fruit. We have also seen a _coiffure_ of gold blond, forming a
small point at the top of the head, and ornamented on each side with a
branch of green foliage and golden fruit in little flexible bunches.
Ball dresses have nearly all two skirts, which are ornamented with a
profusion of flounces, trimmed with ribbons or flowers, which follow
the shade of the first or upper skirt; or they are used to raise it at
the sides, or on one side only. We have also seen a dress of white net
with two skirts, the first (the under) trimmed with two net flounces
at the extremity with two gathers through the middle, and satin
ribbon. On each of these flounces was a trimming of Brussels
application lace, with a gather of ribbon at the top, of the same
width as those of the extremity. The second skirt was trimmed at the
bottom with two gathers of ribbon, and one lace flounce with a ribbon
gathering at the top; the body was an intermixture of gathered ribbons
and lace flounces.
Capotes will be more in vogue than bonnets, their style allowing
spangling, for which bonnets are not suited. We have seen capotes of
taffeta, and ribbon applied like flounces as ornaments to the crown;
these ribbons are cut into teeth or plain, but with a narrow border of
much brighter shade. We have also seen very pretty capotes covered
with net, made of very lively taffeta. The tops of all these
bonnets are widened more than they are high; however, they are drawn
near the bottom, and are quite closed.
Dresses, it is certain, will be open in front and heart-shaped to the
bottom of the waist. Low square-fronted chemisettes suit this kind of
bodice, with breast-plates of embroidery and lace. At concerts, many
dresses are seen either with flounces or apron-shaped fronts; that is
to say, the front breadth has a much richer pattern, and different
from the other breadths of the skirt. This pattern is generally an
immense bouquet, whose branches entwine to the top, diminishing in
size; or there are two large columns of stripes, which form undulating
wreaths.
Dresses of white or other ground of taffeta warped will be the fashion
this spring for walking; however, we must wait for Longchamps, at the
latter end of April, to decide the question.
In the illustration on the following page is a lace cap, trimmed with
flowers without foliage; African velvet dress; body with Spanish
basks or skirts cut out into teeth, trimmed with a small white lace,
having at the top a small gathering of ribbon; the body trimmed with
lace facing, edged with a gathering of ribbon; black velvet ribbon
round the neck, fastened with a diamond buckle; bracelets the same.
Bonnet of pink taffeta, very plain; and plain dress of Valencias, with
festooned teeth. Small felt bonnet, with bunch of ribbons; Nacaret
velvet dress; trowsers of cambric muslin, with embroideries; gaiters
of black cloth, and mousquetaire pardessus, trimmed with gimp or lace,
put on flat.
[Illustration]
Mantelets will certainly enjoy more than their usual vogue this
season, and from what we have seen of the new forms, we must own they
are very superior to any that have before appeared; the novelty of the
forms, and the taste displayed in the garnitures even of those
intended for common use, show that the progress of _la mode_ is quite
as great as any other sort of progress in this most progressing age.
First, then, for the mantelets in plain walking dress; they are for
the most part composed of black taffeta; several are embroidered in
sentache, and bordered with deep flounces of taffeta; others are
trimmed with fringe of a new and very light kind, and a number,
perhaps indeed the majority, are finished with lace.
The materials for robes, in plain morning neglige, are silks of a
quiet kind, and some slight woollen materials, as coutil de laine,
balzerine, striped Valencias; some in very small, others in large
stripes; corded muslins, and jaconet muslins, flowered in a variety of
patterns. We cannot yet say any thing positively respecting plain
white muslins for morning dress, but we have reason to believe they
will not be much adopted.
Taffeta has resumed all its vogue for robes; it is adopted both for
public promenade, half dress, and evening robes. Some of the most
elegant mantelets are of white taffeta.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Volume 3,
No. 3, June, 1851, by Various
*** | {
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RICHARD ALDINGTON
Richard Aldington
Novelist, Biographer and Exile 1930–1962
Volume II
Vivien Whelpton
Paperback ISBN: 978 0 7188 9477 1
PDF ISBN: 978 0 7188 4550 6
ePub ISBN: 978 0 7188 4551 3
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# RICHARD ALDINGTON
Novelist, Biographer and Exile
1930-1962
VIVIEN WHELPTON
The Lutterworth Press
The Lutterworth Press
P.O. Box 60
Cambridge
CB1 2NT
United Kingdom
www.lutterworth.com
publishing@lutterworth.com
Paperback ISBN: 978 0 7188 9477 1
PDF ISBN: 978 0 7188 4550 6
ePub ISBN: 978 0 7188 4551 3
Kindle ISBN: 978 0 7188 4552 0
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A record is available from the British Library
First published by The Lutterworth Press, 2019
Copyright © Vivien Whelpton, 2013, 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this edition may be reproduced, stored electronically or in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the Publisher (permissions@lutterworth.com).
In memory of Shelley Cox
(1948–2017)
Aldington scholar and enthusiast,
dear and generous friend
# Contents
## List of Illustrations
## Acknowledgements
## Introduction
## Part One
## THE WANDERER 1930-1936
### 1. A Sociable Life: Travel, Friendship and Patronage, 1930-1931
### 2. A Sociable Life: France, 1930-1933
### 3. A Sociable Life: Italy – Further Friendships, 1930-1932
### 4. The Public Face: Critic and Satirist
### 5. The Public Face: Elegist and Romantic
### 6. The Social Life Fragments, 1932-1936
### 7. The Public Face: Reviewer, Philosopher and Essayist
### 8. The Private Life: Leading a Double Life, 1930-1936
### 9. The Private Life: Meltdown, 1936-1937
## Part Two
## THE EXILE 1937-1950
### 10. Divorce, 1937-1938
### 11. A Crystal World? 1937-1939
### 12. The New World, Again, 1939-1942
### 13. A New Life: Hollywood, 1942-1946
### 14. The Public Face: Novelist, Biographer, Memoirist 161 and Anthologist
## Part Three
## THE RECLUSE 1951-1962
### 15. Back to the Old World, 1946-1947
### 16. The Sociable Life: Paradise Regained – and Lost, 1947-1949
### 17. The Public Face: The Old Loyalties
### 18. The Private Life: Crisis, 1950
### 19. The Public Face: Disaster
### 20. Private and Public Lives: Trials of Endurance, 1951-1957
### 21. A Solitary Life, 1957-1962
### 22. From Tragedy to Triumph, 1961-1962
## Afterwords
## Notes
## Bibliography
## Index
## List of Illustrations
Nancy Cunard and Brigit Patmore, 1930 (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Samuel Beckett and Thomas MacGreevy, London, early 1930s (by courtesy of the MacGreevy Estate)
Thomas MacGreevy, 1930 (by courtesy of the MacGreevy Estate)
Brigit Patmore and H.G. Wells, south of France, early 1930s (from My Friends When Young by Brigit Patmore, by courtesy of Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Aldous Huxley, 1931, by Bassano Ltd. (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Brigit Patmore and Michael Arlen, south of France, early 1930s (from My Friends When Young by Brigit Patmore, by courtesy of the British Library)
Halcott Glover when serving with the American Ambulance Service in France, 1914-1915, prior to enlistment in the Royal Flying Corps (<http://www.vlib.us/medical/FriendsFrance/ffphotos2.htm>)
Richard Aldington, Brigit Patmore, Thomas MacGreevy and Alexander Frere (standing), south of France, early 1930s (by courtesy of the MacGreevy Estate)
Brigit Patmore, south of France, early 1930s (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Herbert Read 1934, by Howard Coster (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Thomas MacGreevy and Richard Aldington at the Temple of Paestum, 1931 (by courtesy of the MacGreevy Estate)
Thomas MacGreevy and Aldington's Ford car, 'Romolina', Italy 1931 (by courtesy of the MacGreevy Estate)
Brigit Patmore and Thomas MacGreevy at the Temple of Paestum, 1931 (by courtesy of the MacGreevy Estate)
Norman Douglas, Florence 1935, by Carl Van Vechten (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, ©Van Vechten Trust)
Giuseppe (Pino) Orioli, Florence, June 1935, by Carl van Vechten (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, ©Van Vechten Trust)
Richard Aldington and Osbert Sitwell at Castello di Montegufoni, Florence, 1931 (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Charles Prentice and Norman Douglas, Florence, June 1935, by Carl Van Vechten (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, ©Van Vechten Trust)
Richard Aldington, 1931, by Howard Coster (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Irene Rathbone, 1933, pictured in the journal 'Everyman', 11 February 1933 (by courtesy of the British Library)
C.P. Snow, 1934 (Ramsey and Muspratt Collection, by courtesy of Peter Lofts)
Richard Aldington and Brigit Patmore, south of France, mid-1930s (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Alec Waugh, 1937, by Bassano Ltd. (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Richard and Netta Aldington, early 1940s (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
The Acorns, Peacedale, Rhode Island, home of the Bacon family (by courtesy of Patty Oliver Smith)
(top) Leonard Bacon in his library at The Acorns, early 1940s (by courtesy of Patty Oliver Smith)
(bottom) Leonard Bacon in his library at The Acorns, early 1940s (by courtesy of Patty Oliver Smith)
Henry Slonimsky (by permission of the Jacob Reader Marcus Center of the American Jewish Archives)
D.H. Lawrence's ranch-house at Kiowa Ranch, Taos, New Mexico
Lawrence memorial chapel, Kiowa Ranch (by courtesy of the Harwood Museum of Art, New Mexico)
Frieda Lawrence (centre) with Mabel Dodge Luhan and Dorothy Brett at Kiowa Ranch, 1938, by Cady Wells (Collection of the New Mexico Museum of Art, gift of the Cady Wells Estate, 1982)
Frederick Faust, early 1940s (from the Frederick Faust Collection, by courtesy of the Bancroft Library, University of California at Berkeley)
Lawrence Clark Powell, 1950 (by courtesy of the Library Special Collections, Charles E. Young Research Library, U.C.L.A.)
Richard Aldington publicity image, 1946 (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Alexander Frere, Cape Wrath, Scotland, 1943 (by courtesy of Elizabeth Frere-Jones)
John Arlott, late 1940s (BBC online image)
H.D., passport photograph, 1946 (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University)
Richard Aldington and Alister Kershaw at the Villa Aucassin, St-Clair (by courtesy of Louisa Deasey)
The Villa Aucassin (by courtesy of Louisa Deasey)
Richard Church, May 1939, by Bassano Ltd. (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Alister Kershaw, Geoffrey Dutton and Denison Deasey, south of France, 1948 (by courtesy of Louisa Deasey)
Geoffrey Dutton, Alister Kershaw and Denison Deasey, south of France, 1948
Denison Deasey, Catherine Aldington and Ninette Dutton, south of France, 1949 (by courtesy of Louisa Deasey)
Henry and Christine Williamson, Le Lavendou, spring 1949 (by courtesy of Anne Williamson)
Roy Campbell, 1951, by Jane Bown (© guardian.com)
T.E. Lawrence
Basil Liddell Hart in the 1930s, by Howard Coster (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Richard Aldington at Les Rosiers, Montpellier, 1955 (Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale)
Richard and Catherine Aldington in a village near Montpellier, 1954, by Denison Deasey (by courtesy of Louis Deasey)
Frédéric-Jacques Temple and Lawrence Durrell (by courtesy of F.-J. Temple)
Catherine Aldington as a young woman (by courtesy of Louisa Deasey)
Sir William Haley, 1967 by Godfrey Argent (© National Portrait Gallery, London)
Edward Dahlberg (Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin)
Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk in a police photograph taken on his arrest in 1932
Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk in Wellington, New Zealand, 1984
H.D. with Bryher and Norman Holmes Pearson, USA, 1956 (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University)
Lawrence Durrell and Claude Vincendon, Sommières, 1957 (© Elliott Erwitt/Magnum Photos)
Richard Aldington, Lawrence Durrell, Henry Miller and Frédéric-Jacques Temple, Pont de Sommières, July 1959 (by courtesy of Frédéric-Jacques Temple)
H.D. and Perdita Schaffner on Lake Lugano during the 1950s (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University)
Ezra Pound, Genoa, 1958 (© ArenaPAL)
H.D., 1961, by Islay Lyons (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University)
Bryher, 1961, by Islay Lyons (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University)
Richard and Catherine Aldington, 1962 (by permission of the Estate of Richard Aldington)
Richard Aldington broadcasting in USSR, July 1962 (by permission of the Estate of Richard Aldington)
Richard and Catherine Aldington in the Gardens of Peterhof, June 1962 (by permission of the Estate of Richard Aldington)
## Acknowledgements
I wish to express my gratitude to the Estate of Richard Aldington and its agents, Rosica Colin Ltd, for the encouragement I have received since starting this project, in particular from Joanna Marston at Rosica Colin and from the late Catherine Aldington.
I wish to express further gratitude to the Authors' Foundation of the Society of Authors for a grant that covered the cost of a five-week research visit to the United States in 2016, enabling me to begin the task of writing this second volume of Aldington's life.
Excerpts from the writings of Richard Aldington, as specified below, are reproduced by kind permission of the Estate of Richard Aldington, c/o Rosica Colin Ltd, London:
Richard Aldington's memoirs, Life for Life's Sake (©Richard Aldington 1941, 1949, 1969); his novels, The Colonel's Daughter (©Catherine Guillaume 1931, 1958, 1986), All Men are Enemies (©Richard Aldington 1933, 1960, 1988), Women Must Work (©Richard Aldington 1934, 1935, 1961), Very Heaven (©Richard Aldington 1937, 1961, 1987), Seven Against Reeves (©Richard Aldington 1938, 1950, 1965) and Rejected Guest (©Richard Aldington 1939, 1947, 2005); his short story collections, Roads to Glory (©Richard Aldington 1930, 1958) and Soft Answers (©Richard Aldington 1932, 1935, 1949, 1959, 1967); Artifex (©Richard Aldington 1935, 1936, 1963), Wellington (©Richard Aldington 1943, 1946), Pinorman (©Richard Aldington 1954), Four English Portraits (©Richard Aldington 1948), The Strange Life of Charles Waterton (©Richard Aldington 1949), Portrait of a Genius, But... (©Richard Aldington 1950, 1978), Lawrence of Arabia (©Richard Aldington 1955, 1957, 1969, 1971), Introduction to Mistral (©Richard Aldington 1956, 1960) and Portrait of a Rebel (©Richard Aldington 1957, 1985); introductions to: Selected Works of Oscar Wilde (©Richard Aldington 1946, 1947, 1973, 1981), Selected Works of Walter Pater (©Richard Aldington 1948), the Chawton edition of the novels of Jane Austen (©Richard Aldington 1948), The Religion of Beauty (©Richard Aldington 1950), The Trespasser by D.H. Lawrence (©Richard Aldington 1950) and Twilight in Italy by D.H. Lawrence (©Richard Aldington 1950); articles and interviews originally published in: Egoist, Nash's Pall Mall Magazine, Everyman and the Sunday Referee; letters published and unpublished; unpublished essays and diaries; and the poems: Life Quest (©Richard Aldington 1935, 1962) and The Crystal World (©Richard Aldington 1937, 1965).
Extracts from various letters by Hilda Doolittle are reproduced by permission of Pollinger Limited on behalf of the Estate of Hilda Doolittle. Extracts from the letters and published works of Thomas MacGreevy are reproduced by kind permission of Margaret Farrington and Robert Ryan. Extracts from Irene Rathbone's letters and the poem Was There a Summer? are reproduced by kind permission of Nicholas Utechin. My thanks also go to David Higham Associates for permission to quote from the letters of Herbert Read. Extracts from The Voyage Home, John o' London's Weekly and an unpublished letter from Richard Church to Richard Aldington are reproduced by permission of Pollinger Limited on behalf of the Estate of Richard Church. Extracts from the letters of Ezra Pound are reproduced by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp. acting as agent © 2029 by Mary de Rachewiltz and the Estate of Omar S. Pound. Permission for use of extracts from Bryher's letters is granted courtesy of the Schaffner Family Foundation on behalf of the Bryher Literary Estate. The correspondence of Richard Aldington with Charles Prentice, Harold Raymond and Ian Parsons of Chatto & Windus, of Thomas MacGreevy, H.D. and Irene Rathbone with Charles Prentice and of Richard Aldington with Alexander Frere, Charles Seddon Evans and Arnold Gyde of William Heinemann, as well as correspondence between Alexander Frere, Harold Raymond and Ralph Pinker is quoted by kind permission of Random House Publishers.
Jennifer Aldington Emous kindly gave me permission to quote from her personal letters from Richard Aldington, while an extract from the unpublished work The Early Life and Family History of A.S. Frere by Jean Raulin Frere is reproduced by kind permission of Elizabeth Frere-Jones. The extract from Denison Deasey's article 'Lunch at the Villa' is reproduced by kind permission of Louisa Deasey. Simon Hewett kindly gave me permission to quote extracts from Richard Aldington's correspondence with Bertram Eskell.
I am indebted to the following libraries and institutions for permission to quote from or cite unpublished manuscripts in their collections:
Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale: Richard Aldington Collection, Geoffrey de Montalk Letters from Richard Aldington, P.A.G. Aldington Letters from Richard Aldington, Selected Richard Aldington Correspondence, Alister Kershaw Collection of Richard Aldington Papers, Eric Warman Collection of Richard Aldington Papers, Henry Slonimsky Collection of Richard Aldington Papers, Ralph Pinker Collection of Richard Aldington Papers, Miscellaneous Richard Aldington Material from Eric Warman, Harry T. Moore Collection of Richard Aldington Correspondence, William Dibben Collection of Richard Aldington Correspondence, Alison Palmer Collection of Richard Aldington Correspondence, Richard Aldington Correspondence with Henry Williamson, Norman Gates Collection of Richard Aldington; also several vertical file mss and its General Photograph Collection.
Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center at the University of Texas at Austin: Richard Aldington Collection, Ezra Pound Collection, Brigit Patmore Collection, Nancy Cunard Collection, Edward Nehls Collection, Edward Dahlberg Collection, Richard Church Collection, David Garnett Collection, Frieda Lawrence Collection, T.E. Lawrence Collection and Charles Norman Collection.
Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University: Yale Collection of American Literature: Leonard Bacon Papers, H.D. Papers, George Plank Papers; General Collection: Richard Aldington Papers, Bryher Papers, Louise Morgan Theis Papers.
Special Collections Department at the University of Victoria: Herbert Edward Read Fonds, Charles Doyle Fonds.
Special Collections at the University of Reading: Chatto & Windus Archive.
Penguin Random House Archive and Library, Rushden, Northamptonshire: William Heinemann Archive.
Manuscripts and Archives Research Library, Trinity College Dublin: Thomas MacGreevy Collection.
Special Collections at the Brotherton Library, University of Leeds: Bonamy Dobrée Collection.
Special Collections at the Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley: Frederick Schiller Faust Papers.
Special Collections, Houghton Library, Harvard University: T.S. Eliot Editorial Correspondence 1904-30.
Special Collections at the Charles E. Young Research Library, University of California, Los Angeles: Alvin George Manuel business correspondence with Richard Aldington, 1940-1956.
Special Collections at the Library of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign: H.G. Wells Papers.
Archives and Manuscripts Department, British Library: Schiff Papers; Letters of Richard Aldington to Netta Aldington.
Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature: Richard Aldington Collected Papers.
My thanks go to the staff of these institutions for all the assistance I have received, in particular to Aaron Lisec of the Morris Library, Richard Watson of the Harry Ransom Center and Catherine Flynn of the Random House Archive and Library, whose patience and helpfulness have been unstinting and invaluable.
While every effort has been made to obtain permission from holders of copyright material produced herein, the publishers would like to apologise for any omissions and will be pleased to incorporate missing acknowledgements in any further editions.
A number of individuals have given me invaluable help. Anne Williamson kindly provided me with information about the friendship between Richard Aldington and her father-in-law, Henry Williamson, while Lynn Knight (editor of the 1989 Feminist Press edition of Irene Rathbone's We That Were Young) and Nicholas Utechin, Rathbone's grand-nephew, have similarly helped me to build up a picture of the relationship between Rathbone and Aldington, and Sylvain Kershaw has helped me enormously with information about his father, Alister Kershaw. My contact with Louisa Deasey, whose research into her father's life was published in 2018 as A Letter from Paris, helped me to an understanding of the nature and importance of the friendship between Deasey and Aldington, and Louisa has been generous with information, photographs – and encouragement.
Elizabeth Frere-Jones gave me helpful information about her father, Alexander Frere, and access to her sister-in-law's unpublished biography of him, while Andrew Harrison, Director of the D.H. Lawrence Research Centre in the School of English at the University of Nottingham, read my chapter on Portrait of a Genius, But & and offered me rigorous and helpful criticism. Susan Schriebman, Professor of Digital Art and Culture at the University of Maastricht, has helped me with information about Thomas MacGreevy and with access to his photograph collection.
The community of Aldington scholars and enthusiasts has, as always, been my principal support line. In particular, I wish to thank Simon Hewett, Andrew Frayn and Elizabeth Vandiver for reading and commenting on particular chapters, and Simon and his wife Marjorie for welcoming me to New York and making his Aldington archive available to me. Simon, along with Michael Copp and the late David Wilkinson, has been a constant encouragement and source of ideas and information.
Beyond the 'Aldington community', my grateful thanks go to my friend, the clinical psychologist Desmond King, whose professional insights and comments, in particular in relation to chapters 8 and , proved enormously helpful, and also to two other friends, the military historians Peter Simkins and Brian Bond, who kindly reviewed my chapter on T.E. Lawrence and my references to Basil Liddell Hart, whom they both knew well.
I shall never forget the kindness and generosity of the late Shelley Cox and her partner, Bob Thomas, during my research visits to Carbondale, and I am grateful to Melinda Thomas, Bob's daughter, for providing me with the files of the Aldington bibliography on which Shelley had been working for many years. It was work that, sadly, she had to give up when her mobility became a problem for her, but those files represent years of work and travel and will be of enormous interest to Aldington scholars.
Throughout the project I have received information and encouragement from Jennifer Aldington Emous and Tim Aldington, whose enthusiasm at the prospect of a new biography of their uncle was motivated by their memories of his kindness to them in their youth.
I wish to express my gratitude to Adrian Brink, Director at Lutterworth Press, for commissioning both volumes and for his supportiveness throughout. My thanks go also to Dorothy Luckhurst, my copy editor for this volume and to my editor, Debora Nicosia for her patience and understanding.
I conclude with gratitude to my husband, Barrie Whelpton, who has once more been a rigorous and constructive critic and without whose support I could not have completed this work.
## Introduction
Volume One of this biography covered eighteen years of Aldington's adult life, ending with the publication of Death of a Hero, his novel of the First World War, in 1929. During those years he was a founder member of a new poetic movement and the literary editor of a modernist journal. He went on to serve as an infantryman on the Western Front and, when the war ended, to endure a decade of post-traumatic stress – at the expense of his marriage to the American poet H.D., his subsequent relationship with Dorothy Yorke, and many friendships, such as those with Frank Flint, John Cournos, T.S. Eliot, Harold Monro, D.H. Lawrence, Bonamy Dobrée and Herbert Read. He published five collections of poems and three long poems as well as being a major contributor to several anthologies; he worked as a reviewer and critic for several prominent journals; and he published over a dozen translations as well as selections of his essays and critical writings and a literary biography of Voltaire.
Death of a Hero was a departure – in several respects: it was his first novel; it signified the end of his 'poetic' persona (although he would publish two more long poems); and, with its withering contempt for his native land, it launched him on the expatriate existence and the combative relationship with the English literary establishment that would characterise his later life. For now, his passionate relationship with Brigit Patmore and the enthusiasm with which he flung himself into a volume of war stories and a second novel, into travel and into a number of new friendships were indications of a renewed vitality. 'In the autumn of 1929,' he wrote later, 'it seemed to me that I could accept the remainder of life with a certain amount of confidence and cheerfulness.' There were more short stories to come, as well as six more novels, some of them as disquieting as Death of a Hero. More controversially still, there were memoirs and biographies: of Wellington; of the nineteenth-century naturalist and eccentric, Charles Waterton; of D.H. Lawrence; of Charles Prentice, Pino Orioli and Norman Douglas; of Robert Louis Stevenson; of the Provençal poet Frédéric Mistral; and, most contentious of all, of T.E. Lawrence, the man Aldington began by admiring but for whom he came to feel contempt.
Inevitably, there were other lovers. Other struggles. Other fraught relationships – and several fulfilling ones. There was the joy, as well as the anxiety, of parenthood, particularly when it became, as it did from 1950, single parenthood. There was the return into his life of H.D. and, more surprisingly still, of her partner, Bryher.
Aldington's dysfunctional upbringing and his war experience continued to influence his personal life and behaviour (and, in the case of the war, his physical health and well-being too). They were also played out in novel after novel; but so were his love of nature and the physical world and his passionate beliefs in individuality and in the power of love between a man and a woman. The public image of him for the last sixty years or more has been of an isolated and embittered figure, an image which many attribute to the appearance of his 1955 biography of T.E. Lawrence and the fury with which it was received by the political and literary establishments. Yet that reputation began much earlier, as can be seen from remarks made by C.P. Snow in the booklet he wrote to accompany Heinemann's reprinting of six Aldington works in 1938:
The bitterness is there all right. But it only predominates in one or two books, and in them is accompanied by much else. In everything he has written we ought to find many qualities far different and far more important. In order to get all we can from him, we need to understand the 'bitterness', put it in its place, and see beneath it the particular conception of life, the particular kind of passion and sensitivity, of which it is only one result...
As we set about evaluating Aldington's later life and work, we might do well to bear in mind Snow's advice about how to read his complex personality.
## Part One
## THE WANDERER
## 1930-1936
### 1. A Sociable Life Travel, Friendship and Patronage 1930-1931
In 1930 travel was still a novelty, a privilege won by the success of Death of a Hero – and Aldington's gift to Patmore. They spent the first two months of the year in North Africa. Aldington had asked Henri Davray to use his contacts with the French government to arrange passes, travel and accommodation in Tunisia and Algeria. They were thus able to tour both countries freely and cheaply by car and train. He had also arranged to write an article about each country for Nash's Pall Mall Magazine.
In Tunisia they based themselves in the capital but spent a fortnight covering some 850 miles of the interior by train and car, travelling by train to Kairouan and then south-west and inland to the oases of Nefta and Tozeur, then by car across to the coast at Gabes and on to the island of Jerba. Their return train journey took them north along the coast to Sfax, inland to El Djem (where Aldington admired the Roman amphitheatre, 'standing up immense in the twilight against a huge, bare plain'), then back up to the coast at Sousse and on to Tunis.
Anthony Clarendon, the protagonist of All Men Are Enemies (1932), is unimpressed by the art, architecture and culture of Tunisia, but overwhelmed by the natural landscape: on the night train from Kairouan to Tozeur he is electrified by the sight of the desert in the hours before dawn, 'the dome of the sky clear and vast, filled with the white of the moonlight which shone over a great sea of lion-coloured sand'. He is standing on a siding as dawn finally breaks: 'The light shone on a desolation, but its silence was majestic.' It is this silence which moves him: 'The silence, the space, the limitless on and on of the desert were intoxicating... the almost ecstatic peace which gradually occupied your whole nature as you rode in the sunlight over the sand in the brisk scentless air.' In a throwback to George Winterbourne's adulation of the fighting infantry in Death of a Hero, Tony also admires 'the dignity and self-possession... the complete poise and self-harmony [of] the men coming in from the desert wrapped in their burnous'.
Nancy Cunard and Brigit Patmore, 1930
In February Aldington and Patmore moved on to Algeria, where they made a round trip of over 900 miles, crossing the border at Gardima and travelling west to Constantine, then south to El Kantara and Biskra, and pushing down into the Sahara Desert at Touggourt before turning north to head for Algiers. After the barrenness of Tunisia, Northern Algeria surprised them with its 'flowery landscape, wooded hills, trees coming into bud, blossoming fruit trees and grass meadows... the almond gardens in full bloom, the olives and cypresses, the vineyards and young wheat'. In Constantine it was again the men that impressed Aldington, with 'the physique and somewhat vacant hauteur we have learned to associate with warriors'. Further south, he was appalled by the tourism of Biskra but liked Touggourt where, once more, it was the people, with 'their quiet satisfaction in living', and 'the spaciousness and silence of the desert' that made an impact upon him.
* * *
Back in Paris, the couple continued to see the friends they had made there: Nancy Cunard and her current lover, the black musician Henry Crowder; the Irish writer Thomas MacGreevy, no longer lecturing at the École Normale Supérieure but surviving on odd jobs of translation work; and Walter Lowenfels, the American poet, and his wife, Lilian. However, the relationship between Lowenfels and Aldington soon began to unravel – and that with Cunard would not last much longer.
Flush with money and success, Aldington attempted to sponsor other writers through the institution of two prizes. He and Cunard arranged for the Hours Press to offer £10 for the best poem in English on the theme of time. By the deadline, 15 June, little of any merit had been submitted; but that night Samuel Beckett's poem Whoroscope was slipped under the door of the Hours Press shop in the Rue Guénégaud. Both Cunard and Aldington recognised at once the extraordinary talent at work. (Beckett, hard-up though he was, spent the prize money on a meal for MacGreevy, Aldington, Patmore and himself at the Cochon de Lait.)
Samuel Beckett and Thomas MacGreevy in London in the early 1930s
Meanwhile the other prize had become contentious. Edward Titus, owner and editor of the expatriate literary journal This Quarter, had agreed to institute a 'Richard Aldington Award' for 'the ablest young American poet'. Aldington would provide an annual prize of 10,000 francs, 5,000 from his own pocket and the remainder from other sponsors. His favoured candidate for the first award was Lowenfels. However, not content to let events take their course, Lowenfels started to harry Aldington. On the latter's return to Paris Lowenfels threatened to call a press conference for American journalists and announce the result. In a reference to Lowenfels' father's manufacturing business, in which the poet had worked for some years – and would be forced to work again on his return to the States in 1934 – Aldington commented tartly to MacGreevy: 'You can't bring the morals of the butter business into literature.'
The affair dragged on for months. Lowenfels tried to cause trouble through an anonymous letter to This Quarter suggesting that The Imagist Anthology, which Chatto & Windus were about to publish, was a hoax. Titus sent the letter to Chatto for comment and Charles Prentice consulted Aldington, who had no doubts about the identity of the writer. He told Prentice: 'Walter... has become the egocentric and egomaniacal raté – a most unpleasant form of the genus artist, which abounds in wet purlieus of Montparnasse.' At the end of the year he wrote to Titus from Italy to ask what was happening about the award. It says much for his integrity that he still favoured Lowenfels, arguing that Titus's preferred candidate, e e cummings, already had an extensive reputation. Not until the following summer was a compromise hammered out (and only after Titus had dispatched an envoy to the south of France to act as mediator): cummings and Lowenfels would share the prize. Announcing the award, Titus referred to Aldington's 'iron fist within a velvet glove'. It was an early indication of how intransigent he could be. There was to be no further award: Aldington had only 5,000 francs to spare in 1932 and This Quarter ceased publication.
Most of his attempts to support aspiring writers were more private and more successful. He had first corresponded with James Hanley in 1929, in response to the latter's praise of his poetry, and he was swift to offer to obtain a typewriter for him from 'a wealthy friend' (probably Henry Church) as well as to read Hanley's manuscripts. He also sent him money and advised him about pursuing a career in journalism to finance his creative writing. He wrote the introductions to two of Hanley's first three novellas, The German Prisoner and The Last Voyage, mounting an impassioned defence of the writer's habit of grim realism; and he used his column in the Sunday Referee to recommend Hanley's subsequent work. James Reeves also received encouragement, after sending Aldington in May 1930 a proof copy of his review of A Dream in the Luxembourg for the Cambridge Review. Reeves, then a twenty-year-old undergraduate at Jesus College, visited Aldington in Paris that June. Aldington and Patmore had taken a three-roomed apartment in the Rue des Ursulines (their first and only attempt at home-making in Paris). Reeves found Aldington 'kind, pleasant and interested in the ideas of a young unknown man concerned with literature'. Later in the year Aldington attempted (unsuccessfully) to place with Chatto an anthology of young Cambridge poets, including Reeves, as well as advising the young man on his attempts to gain a foothold in reviewing. Beckett, MacGreevy's friend and fellow countryman and his successor at the École Normale Supérieure, was another beneficiary, and not only through the Hours Press publication of Whoroscope; he was commissioned at Aldington's instigation to write a monograph on Proust for the Chatto Dolphin imprint, Aldington's brainchild.
The writer on whose behalf Aldington dedicated most of his efforts was MacGreevy. He gave him financial support and had him to stay at his rented villas in the south of France in the summers of 1930 and 1931, as well as financing MacGreevy's visits to himself and Patmore in Venice in November 1930 and in Florence in February 1931, from where they spent two months together touring Italy and travelling through Austria, Germany and Switzerland back to France. Aldington would later write that 'there never was a more good-humoured fellow-traveller or one who gave more by communicating a fine appreciation'. The main intention behind these arrangements, however, was to enable MacGreevy to write and to help him establish a working routine – always a priority for Aldington himself, wherever his travels took him and in whatever accommodation he was housed.
Thomas MacGreevy, 1930
He persuaded Prentice to commission MacGreevy for two of the Dolphin monographs on contemporary writers, one on T.S. Eliot and the other on Aldington himself. At times, however, he despaired, writing to him from North Africa in January 1930: 'You're a lazy man Mr M'Greevy, Sir. You have about three times as much ability as I have, and you wrap your talent in a napkin. Beware of Judgement Day.' At the end of the year he told Alexander Frere Reeves of Heinemann: '[Tom] got quite a kick out of Venice, and went off full of beans and good intentions.... I think [he] is determined to get away from his present scratch as scratch can existence, but we shall have to keep him up to it.' He was probably right to recognise his friend's natural laziness but perhaps wrong to assume that MacGreevy should be taking the same path as himself; 'If you can pull off a novel, you will find that everything becomes plain sailing,' he told him.
Although the two never fell out, the friendship faded as Aldington perceived that the novel was never going to be completed and that MacGreevy was reverting to 'scratch as scratch can'. By the end of 1933 MacGreevy was in London, supporting himself on reviewing and translating, and a disappointed Aldington wrote to Frere Reeves: 'What I object to in Tom is that he acts as if his poverty were our fault instead of his own.' He would reflect in Life for Life's Sake:
Tom MacGreevy had all the gifts of a writer, except the urge to write... [H]e hadn't in him that aggressive daimon who after each failure to reach to imagined height drives a man back to his desk to try again. His creative impulse was satisfied by the undoubted influence his talk had on a sympathetic audience; and that is the danger of having the gift of conversation.
MacGreevy, although in Paris between April and November of 1933, was not invited that year to the villa Aldington had taken on the Côte des Maures, and the correspondence between them became intermittent for the remainder of the decade, although they probably met up when Aldington was in London, where MacGreevy eventually established himself as a prominent art critic. It was Aldington's disappointment in MacGreevy's failure as an imaginative writer, not their differences of personality – or belief (MacGreevy was a devout Catholic) – that drove them apart.
Aldington's relationship with Cunard soured quite soon and she remained bitter towards him for the rest of her life. On their return to Paris in 1930 Aldington and Patmore had continued to see her regularly, although her lifestyle was more chaotic than their own and Patmore remained wary of Cunard's predatory behaviour towards men. For all her hedonism, Cunard was serious about the Hours Press and Aldington agreed to give her what would be 'positively [his] last war story'. Entitled Last Straws, it came out in January 1931 and was sold out before publication. However, it was the direct cause of their estrangement. Cunard had departed with Crowder for the south of France, leaving her friend Wyn Henderson as temporary manager of the Hours Press. Henderson dispatched a cheque for advance royalties to Aldington, now in Florence for the winter, but he returned the cheque, saying that he had given the story to Cunard, not to a 'manager' and that any communication should come from Cunard herself. At first Cunard did not realise the intensity of his anger; she wrote a warm, friendly letter in early March, giving news of herself and Crowder and suggesting that, 'Later, you and I if you will, can do more serious things. There must be Time here.' However, Aldington had already written to Patmore (visiting London to see her sons):
Still not a word... about my story and not a penny of money. How foully dishonest! She goes and spends on niggers & saphs the money she owes me. To hell with her. I am finished as far as she's concerned. When I get my cheque from her – fini, mais fini. Rotten little beast.'
The casual homophobia is characteristic; the racism is not. Indeed, in her memoir Cunard recalled: 'To see Richard and Henry laughing together, to hear them talk about America, especially about the ironies of the race and colour question, was very worthwhile.'
The exchange escalated until Aldington resorted to a letter of complaint to the Society of Authors. That organisation pointed out that both individuals were Society members, but offered to arbitrate. By now Cunard had folded up the Hours Press, all her efforts for the next four years being devoted to her new project, The Negro Anthology. Aldington received no satisfaction and in July 1931 he resigned from the Society.
Given his savage satire of Cunard in Soft Answers a year later and their battle over the reputation of Norman Douglas in 1954, her lasting hostility towards him is understandable but in her memoir, written shortly before her death in 1965, she acknowledged his 'generosity of spirit' in the days of their early acquaintance, instancing his support for Hanley and, particularly, his loyalty to D.H. Lawrence. She also expressed her lasting admiration for The Eaten Heart (which she published in 1929) and remarked of Last Straws, the grim tale of three war veterans which had been the cause of the rift between them: '[A]lthough the story upset several of the critics, it was convincingly written; it was meant to be bitter, and bitter it was. What is wrong with that?'
### 2. A Sociable Life France 1930-1933
Paris in 1930 afforded its amusements: the company of Aldington's old friend John Halcott Glover and his wife, Etta, visits to Henry and Barbara Church at Versailles, a lunch with Michael Arlen, a dinner at Olga Rudge's apartment when Pound was visiting Paris in April, and even visits from Frank Flint and James Gould Fletcher. Patmore told H.D. that she loved 'swinging into circles and out again'. However, she refused to see Flint because of his past 'disloyalty' to Aldington and, while she was charmed by Pound on the occasion of their reunion, telling H.D. that Rudge was 'good for him', she soon found cause to be irritated when he called round one afternoon and was rude to another visitor.
However, Aldington found Paris and their tiny apartment inimical to work. At the end of June, having completed the set of war stories that would be published in September as Roads to Glory, he moved to the Villa Bouquet at Aiguebelle on the Côte des Maures three miles east of Le Lavandou. He stayed for three months, writing to advise Herbert Read to follow his example:
[T]his bit of coast... is much finer and less spoiled than the 'Bloomsbury bit' i.e. between Marseilles and Toulon. This is far less accessible, between Hyères and St Maxime, served only by a sort of dilapidated decauville [narrow guage railway line] and a road which makes a car bump like a pea on a drum. There is a huge land-locked, or semi land-locked, bay, extending from Le Lavandou to Cavalière, with numerous beaches of white sand. The finest is Cavalière (about 2 kms from here) where the beach must be a mile long. There are big capes to east and west and the islands of Port Cros and Le Levant between them. Consequently, the water is scarcely ever rough, even in a gale. The country behind (les Maures) is mysterious. There are big hills, rather like the country behind and beyond Rapallo in shape, but much more wooded. What is mysterious is that it is practically inaccessible. There are no roads and no footpaths. I have tried to explore it though the climbing is pretty stiff, but could not get through the thorns and brush.
Here he adds, one veteran to another: 'Rather like trying to get through a series of barbed wire entanglements.'
It was the first of three villas he would rent in the locality over the next few years. In 1931 it was the Villa Koechlin at Rayol-Canadel, which he took from May to late September. He boasted to Read:
I was very lucky to get this villa, which is bang in the middle of the finest bay in the best section of this coast. It is about five miles to the east of the villa I had last year and better in every way. Private bathing beach and company's nightingales laid on.
He told his literary agent, Ralph Pinker, that since it belonged to an artist, the villa was 'not only furnished simply and tastefully but arranged with the greatest practical common sense'.
In 1932 he could not afford a villa, but he was back in 1933, from April until mid-September, at the Villa Devos in Pramousquier, halfway between Aiguebelle and Rayol-Canadel, this time sharing the cost with Frere Reeves, who was married at the villa that summer. It was, he told Bonamy Dobrée, a place he had wanted for a long time: 'There are two terraces and a half-wild garden going steeply down into a tiny little sand and rock beach all on their own.' It was another opportunity to let the Criterion circle know how successful he was.
Brigit Patmore and H.G. Wells in the south of France, early 1930s
The routine that he had first adopted at Fabrégas in 1929 suited him perfectly: rising early and working in the morning, then a swim before lunch. By the end of his first month at the Villa Bouquet he had written 20,000 words of a new novel. Nevertheless, some of his time was taken up with social visits (facilitated, from 1931, by the ownership of a car). The Côte d'Azur was occupied – in some cases year-round – by prominent literary figures: those of the older generation, like H.G. Wells, who had built himself a home with his lover, Odette Keun, at Grasse, and Somerset Maugham in his palatial mansion on Cap Ferrat; and those of Aldington's own generation: Michael Arlen near Cannes and Aldous Huxley at Sanary-sur-Mer on the other side of Toulon. In his novel The Rock Pool (1936), Cyril Connolly jokes:
Aldous Huxley, 1931
Brigit Patmore and Michael Arlen in the south of France, early 1930s
All along the coast from Huxley Point and Castle Wharton to Cape Maugham little colonies or angry giants had settled themselves: there were Campbell in Martigues, Aldington at Le Lavandou, anyone who could hold a pen in St Tropez, Arlen in Cannes, and beyond Monte Carlo and the Oppenheim country.
There were other celebrities to be visited too: Natalie Barney at Beauvallon near Saint-Tropez, where Aldington and Patmore also met Colette, along with Barney's long-term lover, Elisabeth de Gramont; and another Elizabeth, the novelist Elizabeth von Arnim, Countess Russell, famed for Elizabeth and Her German Garden (1898), whose home, Mas des Roses, was at Mougins, north of Cannes. Then there was Noel Coward at Saint-Tropez: Aldington told H.D. that he had liked Coward more than he had expected, finding 'a genuine vein of humanity' in him.
Huxley was the one figure with whom we might have expected Aldington to develop a close friendship. He told Read that Huxley was 'still a bit Bloomsbury and inklectual [sic], but a likeable fellow and a good talker'. He admired Huxley's work and felt drawn to him for his iconoclasm and for his loyalty to D.H. Lawrence; he also respected the writer's independence of any literary clique, a contrast with Read's fraught but unwavering ties to the Criterion circle. Ultimately, he was probably in awe of Huxley's intellect, although it was Huxley's predominantly ascetic nature and his rejection of hedonism and sensuality that set them most apart. For Michael Arlen, another candidate for friendship, he felt warmth and affection; he told Read how much he liked Arlen: 'He's extremely modest and good-tempered and really rather witty, and as good-hearted a fellow as you could hope to meet.' Arlen's life, however, was extraordinarily self-contained – and perhaps Aldington did not consider him a completely serious writer. He had told Prentice, on first meeting Arlen in Paris in 1930: 'I like [him] extremely; he is totally uneducated of course, but an amiable and warm-hearted man.' These social interactions occupied only a small portion of the long summers on the Riviera; for Aldington, work and the routine it demanded were always his first priority; others were the simple pleasures of good – but not over-expensive – food and wine, walking, exploring the countryside and nearby villages, and swimming. His chief pleasure, however, was acting as host to those who were now his closest friends: Glover, MacGreevy, Frere Reeves and Prentice.
Halcott Glover in 1914-1915, when serving for the American Red Cross in France
Only Glover and MacGreevy were writers, and neither was having much success. Glover had been a moderately successful playwright when Aldington had met him in the early 1920s but he had found little reward in recent years and was now trying his hand at the novel. MacGreevy was also attempting to write a novel, but in 1931 his main task, successfully accomplished, was to produce the Dolphin monographs on Eliot and Aldington. Prentice and Frere (who dropped the 'Reeves' in 1929) were highly successful publishers, the former senior partner at Chatto & Windus, the latter a director at Heinemann. They had both met Aldington in 1929, Prentice when Donald Friede, Aldington's American publisher, had suggested Chatto as the British publishers for Death of a Hero, and Frere when he came to Paris to meet up with Lowenfels, whose poems Heinemann were publishing. Aldington and Patmore felt great affection for Prentice; the former valued his scholarship, and his wisdom and tact as a publisher, while they both appreciated his kindness and integrity: 'A man utterly without affectations... of simple dignity and straightforward utterance; so considerate of others as to seem almost diffident; so generous that one was always trying to restrain him; and at the same time full of laughter and appreciation of a good thing said.'
Frere was very different, in tastes and temperament more like Aldington himself. Whereas MacGreevy and Prentice had had stable childhoods, in Ireland and Scotland, respectively, Frere's upbringing had not been easy. His father had left shortly after he was born and he and his mother were forced to live with relatives in Southampton. When he was thirteen years old, she left him to set up home with a new partner in Wiltshire, where she gave birth to a daughter. In an unpublished account of Frere's life his daughter-in-law, Jean Raulin Frere, wrote that 'whatever his movements during his teenage years [these being hard to establish] Frere seems never to have lived in a conventional domestic environment that offered stability and love'.
Richard Aldington, Brigit Patmore, Thomas MacGreevy and Alexander Frere (pointing) in the south of France, early 1930s
Having served in the East Kent Yeomanry before the war, Frere was sent to Gallipoli in October 1915, and thence to Egypt. Commissioned in 1916, he transferred to the Royal Flying Corps the following year but in April 1918 was seriously injured when his Sopwith Camel crashed. He received intermittent hospital treatment for two years, including considerable periods at the Maudsley Military Neurological Hospital. He went up to Cambridge in 1919 and in the 1920 summer vacation travelled to Switzerland to catalogue Elizabeth von Arnim's library. He became her lover for nearly twelve years, although she was nearly thirty years his senior. Indeed, Frere, who worked as a reporter on the Evening News after leaving Cambridge, owed his opening with Heinemann to von Arnim, since in 1925 she persuaded her friend, the American publisher Nelson Doubleday, to employ him, as a result of which he was offered the job at the British publishing house which Doubleday had recently acquired. His always-turbulent relationship with von Arnim came to a stormy end in March 1932 but they would subsequently become close friends – and he would visit her frequently at her home on the Riviera. He had been briefly and unsatisfactorily married in 1927 and was then married for the second time – to the daughter of Edgar Wallace, the crime writer – at the Villa Devos in June 1933.
Perhaps because he sensed in Frere deep-seated tensions not dissimilar from his own, Aldington confided in him more than in his other friends. In a 1934 letter he advised Frere:
There is much truth in the old tag: Resist not evil... in the sense that by making too much of an effort against what is evil, one becomes negative. I have wasted so much time kicking against the pricks (not to mention cunts) that I want to save you from the same waste.
He would tell Read, when arranging for him to meet with Frere in 1934:
Just one word of warning. He crashed badly in 1918, and occasionally suffers from appalling headaches in consequence. At such times he is moody and apt to say things he doesn't mean. He's been much better in the past two years – in fact since he divorced and took up with Pat Wallace – but these head pains do take him sometimes. At such moments the wisest thing is to say nothing and clear out.
There are other hints in the correspondence amongst the group of friends that Frere's behaviour could be unpredictable.
Aldington would always have more time for publishers than for fellow authors, partly because of his respect for Prentice and Frere but also because he knew that publishers were his 'bread and butter'. 'My settled opinion,' he wrote in his memoirs, 'is that the professional author's best friend can be and should be his publisher. Apart from the author's own family, nobody is so deeply interested in the success of a book.' None of this, however, would prevent his relationships with both Chatto and Heinemann from becoming stormy in later years.
The mainspring of his affection for Glover, MacGreevy, Prentice and Frere was their shared war service. He had retained no friendships from that period of his life: in 1916 and 1917 he had been a middle-class infantryman with little in common with his fellow soldiers; in 1918 he had been so preoccupied with the free-fall status of his marriage that he had socialised very little with his fellow officers. On his return from war, however, he had felt alienated from his fellow writers, the older ones 'so hopelessly out of date, so unaware that earth's foundations had trembled and that nothing would really be the same again', while he bitterly resented those of his own generation who had not fought. The years had not softened this instinct and it lay behind much of his antipathy towards Eliot and others amongst the Criterion set.
With MacGreevy, Prentice and Frere, all around his own age, he felt himself to be a cherished member of a different kind of club. (Glover, who had served with the Royal Flying Corps, was some fifteen years older.) He wrote to Prentice in May 1931:
When I think of what we silly buggers went through, and how we were betrayed, and have nothing but each other, and yet can utterly trust each other, and know we're just as much side by side as if we were in the line – well, I won't try to express it.
'If we got nothing else out of this bloody War, we at least got the affection of men like Frere and Charles,' he told MacGreevy. These 'unforgettable bonds' strengthened his combativeness when he encountered opposition: '[I]t's antiseptic to be alone. We held the world on our bayonets, and, by God, we'll hold it on the point of our boots,' he told Prentice when his next novel was facing the hostility of reviewers and booksellers.
As for MacGreevy, twice wounded in the war, Gerald Dawe argues that not only his poetic output (some 50 poems) but also his monograph on Aldington show him 'work[ing] through the personal and political effects upon himself of his involvement in World War One'. If Aldington found himself alienated from postwar Britain, how much more must MacGreevy, a Catholic Irishman who had served as a British officer, have felt himself to be stateless on his return to an Ireland at war with Britain? In Richard Aldington: An Englishman, he addresses the legacy of the war long before he introduces Aldington's name:
Brigit Patmore in the south of France, early 1930s
If you have been placed suddenly on the other side of the grave and left there for months and years, you do not forget it. And you do not forget those you left there when you came back. Sometimes you bring back not only a darkened spirit but a maimed body from there, and that reminds you.
Shared leisure, however, brought the group great joy. Prentice wrote to Aldington in January 1931, 'I spent a heavenly evening with Frere on Thursday. He is a champion; one of the most delightful men I ever met'; and, after his visit to the Côte des Maures that summer: 'I couldn't have been happier than I was with you and Brigit at Canadel; now it is like looking back on a dream.' However, there were also Patmore's two sons, now in their early 20s, to be accommodated during those summers, as well as a variety of other visitors. In 1930 Aldington confided in Prentice, 'I had planned it out with great skill, but everybody changes his mind and date', and 'There have been so many guests at Le Bouquet that I haven't progressed as rapidly as I might.' The following year he would confess: 'I have been a little bothered by people.' Some of these people were well-meaning 'outsiders' who did not appreciate that his days were circumscribed by his need to be at his desk each morning. A visit from Malcolm Hilbery, his high-flying lawyer friend from his boyhood days, prompted the complaint: 'Like all good bourgeois, they imagine books are the product of complete idleness, and we (Tom and I) have to fight for our mornings.'
Another visitor was Aldington's sister Margery. Since Padworth days her life had been hard. Employment for a singer in London in the late 1920s was mainly casual and intermittent. Eventually, she had joined a Variety group touring India, and in Delhi she had met and fallen in love with an expatriate official on the Indian Railways, a man whose wife had left him to bring up their two children in England. With a family to support and aware that he had little to offer Margery, he had encouraged her to return home at the end of her tour. However, she had later returned to India and become pregnant. Again, he had persuaded her to return home and to have an abortion, which, because of her debilitated condition, she had no difficulty in obtaining. She remained in London for three years, living with Olive Salter, the long-time friend with whom she had shared a cottage in Berkshire, only returning to India in late 1933.
She and her lover were finally married in India in 1937, by which time she had written an autobiographical novel, Pavane for an Unborn Child. Never published, it is a heart-rending account of the many tragedies of her life. How much of what had transpired in India she revealed to her brother during her enforced stay in England we cannot know, but she visited him at the Villa Koechlin and developed a warm friendship with the kindly Prentice. Aldington would write to Prentice from Portugal in 1932: 'You were very sweet and kind to take Margery to lunch. I'm afraid the English winter does weigh on her, but I don't quite know what can be done about it. I wish she could get to India as she wants.' Describing her to one correspondent, he referred to her 'tendency to want to do good to others, without being able to do good to herself'. In 1931 she was trying to do good to their younger sister, Pattie, who had escaped from their mother but who had no qualifications and was unable to support herself. Again, it was Prentice to whom Aldington turned for help.
The Côte des Maures, with its sun and sea, gave Aldington a base, even a home, to which he could welcome his friends. For the first three years of the decade, however, it was Italy, the remembered paradise of 1913, to which he was drawn and to which we shall now turn.
### 3. A Sociable Life Italy – Further Friendships 1930-1932
In 1930 and 1931, as the sun and sea lost their sparkle and the Riviera emptied, Aldington and Patmore gravitated to Italy – for its culture and climate and for its personal associations for Aldington. In 1930 they set off at the end of September, with the object of giving Patmore her first encounter with Venice. After five weeks there they moved on to Lecce, in the 'heel' of Italy, from where Aldington once again wrote to Read.
Although his acquaintance with Read had begun in the immediate aftermath of their military service – and would persist for the rest of their lives – it had become a relationship marked by wariness and mistrust. Aldington was acutely aware that Read had Flint, Eliot and the rest of the Criterion set at his elbow and he was keen to remind them all of his professional and personal success. He had also been hurt by Read's response to the proofs of Death of a Hero, which he had sent him for comment 'as an old friend and fellow officer'. Read's comments, Aldington informed Prentice, had amounted to 'four pages of oblique but positively vindictive denunciation'. Read was equally critical of Roads to Glory, objecting to a lack of 'restraint' in some of the stories. This issue had been aired frequently between them over the years, as an aspect of the polarity which Aldington felt their work represented between intellect and feeling, with Read – and the Eliot school – on the side of intellect.
When he heard of Read's appointment to the Chair of Fine Art at Edinburgh University in the summer of 1931, Aldington was, however, quick to congratulate him; and it was to Aldington that Read wrote for advice in January 1933 when he felt stifled by the academic life – although he appears not to have revealed that his marriage had also fallen apart and that he was in love with the young Margaret Ludwig. Aldington's advice was clear – and characteristic:
Herbert Read, 1934
First, you must decide... whether the life of your creative instinct and its expression in literature is really more to you than anything else. Second, if you do decide in the affirmative, your next step is to go straight as an arrow for the way of living which you believe most likely to attain that end. You may make mistakes (who doesn't) but you'll live.
It was the route that he had taken – and it was the route Read would take that June, when he resigned his post, left his wife and son and fled Edinburgh with his lover. Aldington sent him congratulations: 'This will be an enormous release, and you'll go like a race-horse now.' He even sent Read a poem, entitled 'Life Goes On'.
He was also quick to offer practical help: he was resigning as reviewer on the Sunday Referee and would recommend Read for the post. Nothing came of this but in London in December 1934 he was able to be of greater service, persuading Frere to publish Read's novel, The Green Child, which Faber had rejected, and to take Read on as a literary adviser. Aldington left London two months later, having received no word of thanks from Read. He returned in the autumn of 1935 and a letter to Read dated 25 February 1936 begins: 'I'm very glad you wrote because it clears up a misunderstanding,' and continues: 'I felt your silence was rather hard on me, since I had worked loyally on your behalf.... At any rate I got the impression that you didn't care about keeping in touch, and that there was nothing to be done about it.' In this letter he proposes a meeting and we can only guess whether this took place.
There is an intriguing postscript to this tale of misunderstanding. Read's contribution to Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait comprises a detailed review of his letters from Aldington in which he asserts that the correspondence ceased (for eleven years) 'for no apparent reason' with Aldington's letter of 31 December 1934. James King, Read's biographer, reflects:
Read's uncharacteristic mendacity about the existence of the February 1936 letter reveals an unwillingness to deal with his harsh behaviour towards an old but frequently difficult friend.... He may have thought that he had wronged Aldington and wanted to keep the matter from scrutiny. Read was always careful to maintain the facade of a relatively untroubled, generous person. In this instance, his scrupulous regard for public opinion demonstrates the insecurity behind the mask.
Read was under the influence of the Criterion set and specifically of its leader: the outward life had to be sober and conventional. That he recognised this as a problem is apparent in his once remarking to Richard Church (also a member of the Criterion group): 'Eliot has been rather like a gloomy priest presiding over my affectionate spontaneity.' Both he and Aldington offended against the rules but, whereas Aldington had left England to escape being an outcast, Read found himself an alternative support group in the Modernist artists amongst whom he and his new partner came to live in 1933 and whose principal advocate he became. Nevertheless, he maintained the sober and conventional demeanour and was soon back in the Criterion fold. 'Affectionate spontaneity' was not Read's forte: he would tell Church: 'You Londoners will never understand the Yorkshire nature, which has to be controlled because it is fundamentally so emotional.'
We might find other factors to account for this reserve. Aldington and Read were both damaged by their war experience and had spent the 1920s in a state of numbness. In a revealing review of All Quiet on the Western Front, Read wrote: 'For these men the war lasted too long to be an adventure; it withered something in them that had never come to full growth.' Additionally, both had had difficult childhoods, particularly Read, who had been torn from an idyllic rural existence at the age of ten by his father's death from a fatal accident, and sent to an orphanage. They had much in common – but contrasting temperaments and different coping mechanisms. Read's reserve and his wariness of Aldington meant that the relationship between these two men could never be close.
Aldington, however, imported to Italy the members of his own support group. During their five-week stay in Venice in 1930, he and Patmore were visited by both MacGreevy and Prentice. After leaving Venice, Prentice wrote: 'You are the dearest people. I don't think I ever had a more adorable time. It was a most painful wrench to leave.' In January 1931 Patmore told MacGreevy, 'Richard and I decided that you and Charles are the gifts from life in these last two years', a message that MacGreevy delightedly passed on to Prentice. When he and Patmore reached Florence in December 1930, Aldington summoned Frere from Cannes – although not purely for the purposes of companionship: Frieda Lawrence was visiting the Italian publisher Giuseppe ('Pino') Orioli, and Aldington was keen for Heinemann not only to publish Lawrence's letters and the posthumous work, but to buy back all Lawrence publication rights from Martin Secker.
In February of 1931 MacGreevy was back with them in Florence, his fare paid by Aldington. The latter had meanwhile purchased a second-hand Ford car and, having passed his driving test, took Patmore and MacGreevy on an eighteen-day round trip between Florence and Rome, visiting about twenty towns in the provinces of Siena, Perugia, Terni and Viterbo. From Rome, they also made a trip to the Amalfi coast. Aldington wrote to Prentice:
Thomas MacGreevy and Richard Aldington at the Temple of Paestum, 1931
Thomas MacGreevy and Richard Aldington's Ford car, 'Romolina', Italy, 1931
Brigit Patmore and Thomas MacGreevy at the Temple of Paestum, 1931
We have seen more of Italy in five days than could be seen in five weeks in the ordinary way, and we have seen it more cheaply, taking picnic lunches in the car, and avoiding the big hotels.... I have kept careful account of all our expenses.... I have never had a more delightful trip in all my life.
On their return, Prentice joined them in Florence for a week, on his way to Greece. As soon as he left they were off again, taking MacGreevy with them – this time for a longer journey, driving east and north to Ancona, Rimini, Ravenna, Ferrara and Mantua before travelling the length of Lake Garda and through the Brenner Pass to Innsbruck, Salzburg and Munich and thence to Lyons and Marseille, via Switzerland. (Some achievement for someone who had only just passed his driving test!) In November they came back to Florence, driving there via the French and Italian Rivieras.
The travelling project for the spring of 1932, influenced by Norman Douglas's 1915 book Old Calabria, was the mountainous region that formed the 'toe' of Italy, followed by Sicily. Meanwhile, Aldington had become extremely ill with Vincent's angina, a severe form of tonsillitis and pharyngitis, which started in mid-December and left him still weak in early February. He tells us in Pinorman that Frieda Lawrence, who was in Florence again for Christmas, 'cheered everyone up by remarking in her optimistic way that I looked very much as Lorenzo did before he died'. The Sunday Referee had to explain a two-week gap in January 1932, announcing: 'It is regretted that Mr Richard Aldington is still not well enough to contribute his usual article.'
Nevertheless, the party, consisting of Prentice, Orioli, Patmore and Aldington, set off in mid-February on a three-week trip via Rome and Naples and then down the west coast. From Calabria they crossed over to Messina and visited Cefalù, Palermo, Segesta, Selinunte, Agrigento and Siracusa. Aldington was disappointed in Calabria:
What we found were dirty villages which stank, earthquake-shattered ruins, mere dens of dwellings, a neglected and barbarous population... the landscape is wild enough and often beautiful, but so far as moments of the great past are concerned you must see nearly all of them with the eyes of historical memory and take them on trust. On your map you see a great name in history; in fact you see a desolate marsh or a few shapeless broken stones or a malaria-smitten village.
He may have been influenced by the 'desolately wintry' conditions of their journey, involving cold winds, heavy rain – and several blizzards. On the mountain pass of Campo Tenese, at 3,000 feet, the car broke down and they had to wait for several hours in a road-mender's cottage to be rescued. Only as they worked their way west and south in Sicily did the signs of spring begin to appear.
However, the trip was a merry one, and Prentice, who left the party at Reggio Calabria to return by train to London, wrote: 'What a time you gave me... what would we have done without your stout and obstinate driving I really don't know – and your directing mind and B's pots and pans and darling Pino and all the good cheer. We were a marvellous party.' Aldington, in turn, reported to MacGreevy: 'Brigit was really marvellous, enduring hardships and difficulties with complete cheerfulness. Charles was as dear and charming a travel companion as yourself, which is the highest praise I can give. Pino was high-spirited and amusing, but sometimes a little too drunk.' Looking back ten years later, and after much more extensive travels, he called the trip 'the most amusing and adventurous journey' he had ever made. He was certainly hurt when Orioli published an account of an almost identical trip he made in the spring of 1934 – this time by bus, train and taxi – with Douglas, Prentice and Ian Parsons (another partner at Chatto & Windus), his only references to the earlier trip with Aldington being an exaggerated account of the breakdown at Campo Tenese and a passing mention of visiting Tiriolo 'with a friend in his car'.
It was Orioli – both in December 1930 and in November 1931 – who found accommodation in Florence for Aldington and Patmore, the first time a suite in the Gran Bretagna Hotel, overlooking the Arno, the second time a luxurious apartment at 12 Piazza Santa Croce, where they stayed for six months and which was really beyond Aldington's means. When they came to Florence from Lecce in December 1930 it was in order to meet the 62-year-old Norman Douglas. In Life for Life's Sake, his 1941 memoirs, Aldington explained that draw:
Norman Douglas, Florence, 1935
I had read most of his books, and found in them a man with a sane, intelligent view of life, wit and high spirits, an astonishing variety of interests, and a fund of valuable and unusual knowledge. Here was somebody, I thought, who had not allowed life to push him around, but had forced life to give him what he wanted and had wanted many different things. A masculine adult mind and a writer of almost classical proportion.
His only comment on the darker side of Douglas's lifestyle was: 'It did not trouble me in the least that I differed very strongly from Douglas on certain points of human conduct, wherein I did not and do not approve either his theory or his practice.' Describing Douglas as 'a man of the world', he compared him to Somerset Maugham, seeing both men as 'not to be imposed on by fads and pretences' and as possessing an extensive knowledge and understanding of European literature.
Giuseppe (Pino) Orioli, Florence, 24 June 1935
The reader may well think of another similarity between these two men, their rampant, preying sexual drive, in Douglas's case towards preadolescent boys. By the time Aldington came to write Pinorman, after Douglas's death in 1952, this was an aspect of the writer's conduct that did trouble him and he was prepared to spell out the details, as well as to question the standing of Douglas's creative oeuvre, while still expressing admiration for the 'natural dignity' of his 'truly classical prose'.
Douglas was in Paris for dental treatment when Aldington and Patmore arrived in Florence, and they were entertained by Orioli until his return towards the end of December. Aldington had known Orioli since pre-war days, when he had first visited his bookshop in Florence. In Life for Life's Sake he refers to him as 'a kind of Boccaccio junior', telling us: 'He is an immensely entertaining companion, always alert, witty and observant, and above all intensely alive.... No man has ever given me more of the priceless gifts of laughter and good fellowship.' Derek Patmore, in his introduction to his mother's memoirs, describes Orioli as playing the part of Sancho Panza to Douglas's Don Quixote, but he also explains his importance to Douglas: 'It was Pino who organised the material side of Norman's life [and who] by publishing Norman's books in expensive limited editions in his Lungarno Press series, provided his friend with enough money to live modestly in Florence.'
Once Douglas returned, Aldington and Patmore lunched or dined with him regularly, especially while Orioli accompanied Frieda to London for talks with Heinemann. They found his conversation full of good sense and wide-ranging knowledge. It seems to have been during this period that the eight friends – Frere, Douglas, Frieda Lawrence, Orioli, Patmore, Aldington and, in their absence, MacGreevy and Prentice – formed the 'Canterbury Literary Society', to cock a snook at the élite literary circles of the day – like the Criterion set. Prentice was already known to Douglas and Orioli and an admirer of Douglas's writing; during that first winter in Florence Aldington wrote to him: 'We see Douglas and Orioli nearly every day. They speak of you with a warmth which wins our hearts.' He told MacGreevy: 'Pino and Norman are dying to meet you.'
However, there is no doubt that not only Douglas's amoral outlook and sexual conduct, but also his conversation, had palled by the end of Aldington's and Patmore's second winter in Florence. As early as February 1931, when Patmore had briefly returned to London to see her sons, Aldington wrote to her that he had:
dined with Norman and Pino, and had quite a quarrel with them (see what happens when you go away!) because they are cynical and say one should only live for oneself. I said that we should think of people who will live 20 million years after us. But they don't understand. They don't care! I am rather proud of us because we do care and keep up the fight.
A year on he was writing to MacGreevy: 'Norman looks well, finishing a book, drinks little, but there are other bothers you can guess. I marvel at Pino's constant skill & tact in staving off awkward situations,' and he told Prentice not to encourage Douglas to join them on their trip to Calabria: 'If he does, we shan't see anything but pubs and boys, for nothing else interests him now. It is very dreary, but alas, it is so.'
Mark Holloway, Douglas's biographer, remarks that:
Food, drink and sex became more and more the chief preoccupations of his existence; intellectual activities occupied less and less of his time; life in general, as it will in middleage, became more mechanical and less spontaneous.... In this Florentine period Uncle Norman – rather portly, rather inflamed of countenance – was characteristically encountered in a restaurant autocratically overseeing the production of the food he was about to eat, treating the waiter as his personal servant, exacting lieutenantship from Orioli, his personal Fool, weighing the wine, and letting nothing pass that did not meet with his absolute approval. It became a sight that all who were interested were determined to see; and those who succeeded in seeing it were often rewarded, alas, by Uncle Norman performing as required.
Osbert Sitwell and Richard Aldington at Castello di Montegufoni, Florence, 1931
There were other social and literary acquaintances, some of them part of the Douglas circle, such as the ageing Reggie Turner, devoted friend of Oscar Wilde, and the young Anglo-Italian aristocrat and writer Harold Acton. Aldington and Patmore also visited Osbert Sitwell, whose family's Italian seat, the Castello di Montegufoni, lay 20 miles south of Florence; in Venice they dined with Clive Bell and with Nancy Cunard, her cousins Victor and Edward, and Dolly Wilde; in Rome, on their way from Lecce to Florence, they met up with Edward Storer, whom Aldington had known from pre-war years. Aldington also began a lifelong friendship with the American poet Leonard Bacon, a future Pulitzer Prize winner, who lived with his family in Florence from 1927 until 1932 – and who lent Aldington his car and chauffeur when he was learning to drive.
However, as early as December 1930 Aldington was complaining to H.D.: 'The only drawback is that so many people ask us out, and we want time to write and look at things.' There is some showmanship in the remark, but work was always his priority, to be sustained throughout his travels, both his weekly reviewing for the Sunday Referee and his own creative work. In Venice in October 1930, despite a heavy cold which laid him up for several days and the visits of MacGreevy and Prentice, he wrote three Referee articles, the short story Last Straws for Cunard and 7,000 words of The Colonel's Daughter (the novel he had begun on the Riviera in July) as well as coming up with the idea for another volume of short stories – which would become Soft Answers. Having completed the final third of the novel in Lecce, he wrote to tell Prentice that, although he had promised himself a month off, he was too fired up with the idea for this satirical collection of stories. He had written the first in Florence by the end of the year and would write the remainder at the Villa Koechlin in the summer of 1931.
The following winter his illness severely curtailed his work, and he had to complete eight Referee reviews in the first three weeks of February 1932, before setting off for Calabria. He had been preoccupied all winter with the editing of D.H. Lawrence's Last Poems and writing an introduction for Apocalypse for Secker, and he wrote to MacGreevy:
I can't tell you how much I have been moved by these last poems & how glad in my deepest heart I am that in the end there was no more carping or hating, but the grandeur and dignity of a real man, the real L. whom I could not help loving.
By May of 1932 he was discussing with Prentice his plans for his third novel. He knew that he could not write it in Florence. 'In the early stages of a book I am more nervous than a pregnant woman, and outside people upset the whole structure so I have to begin again from the beginning,' he told Prentice. He intended to go to London, but a short trip to Capri while Derek Patmore was visiting changed his plans. He had once again visited the Pensione del Lauro in Anacapri, where he and H.D. had spent an idyllic five weeks in 1913, and he decided on impulse that this was where he should write his romantic novel. Giving up his contract with the Referee, he returned to Capri, renting two rooms on the upper floor of the pension ('looking over the quiet garden and up to Monte Solaro') from the original proprietress, Maria di Tommasi. He and Patmore were glad to have a quiet, settled (and inexpensive) existence for which they did not require a car, their Ford, 'Romolina', having been written off in an accident shortly before they arrived. It was here over a period of eleven weeks that more than half of All Men Are Enemies was written, its pages regularly dispatched to the approving and delighted Prentice. Visitors only came in the last two weeks of their stay – in the shape of Hal and Etta Glover – and it was with the Glovers that they sailed from Naples to Toulon in the first week of August.
We might wonder why Aldington left Capri before his novel was completed. Certainly, he would usually have taken a villa on the Riviera for the summer, but the 1932 financial crash and his own depleted resources made that impossible; he had not even been able to invite MacGreevy to Capri and had advised him that his best option in the current economic crisis was to go home to Ireland and write his novel. However, Frere was keen to meet up and Aldington did not want his hard-pressed friend to have to come all the way to Capri. Furthermore, the island was filling up with summer tourists, progress on the novel had slowed – and Aldington had had a series of the stomach upsets to which he was prone. He had completed 90,000 words and had another 50,000 or 60,000 to go. Prentice was bound, with Parsons, for a walking tour of Austria with Orioli and Douglas. It seemed the moment to pause.
Life for Life's Sake offers us another reason for Aldington's departure from Italy in 1932 – his increasing distaste for the Fascist regime: 'I was miserable and oppressed by the sight of so much misery and oppression in the name of a pretentious national glory and power far beyond the country's real capacity and contrary to the real interests of the people.' He told MacGreevy: 'Italy is so spoiled and one gets so weary of Fascist brag and interference. They've killed the old Italy – one more sweet benediction of that blessed War. Those Italians in power now are shits, real shits, and a most disturbing force in Europe.'
Charles Prentice and Norman Douglas in Florence, 22 June 1935
### 4. The Public Face Critic and Satirist
The nature and reception of Aldington's second novel, The Colonel's Daughter (1931), and of his short-story collection Soft Answers (1932) allow us to become acquainted with both his literary persona and his public standing in this period.
While he had exiled himself from the literary world of London, and the Criterion set in particular, he was physically present in the capital for quite extensive periods: only a couple of weeks in 1930 and no more than a month in 1931 and in 1932, but in each of the four years from 1933 to 1936 he and Patmore spent between three and six months at a time in London. As Florence palled, for political and personal reasons, London became the default winter substitute, a surprising choice given his susceptibility to bronchitis. Patmore's desire to be near her sons was one of the motivating factors; another was his need to be in touch with his publishers and his literary agent, Ralph Pinker; but most of all, the recession had made the Continent a less practicable solution to what were increasingly straightened circumstances.
He also needed to be in the public eye. Stephen Steele reminds us that: 'In contrast to Joyce, Eliot and Pound, Aldington did not benefit from the private patronage that enabled those others to compose highly esoteric works.' He did not want to compose 'highly esoteric works': he despised them; but producing popularly marketable books was a financial requirement as much as a creative choice. Steele even argues that economic necessity was behind his 'drift' from poetry to prose in this period. This view is persuasive, although it fails to acknowledge his seriousness of intention: his choice of the novel, certainly as exemplified by Death of a Hero, The Colonel's Daughter and Women Must Work, was because he wanted a vehicle for social criticism.
However, he had found a profitable audience with Death of a Hero, one he wished, as well as needed, to cultivate; but he had also discovered the constraints that this audience imposed upon the writer and which he found difficult – if not impossible – to accept. The asterisks of Death of a Hero had been his protest against these constraints but he would have to find more subtle responses. Acquiring a literary agent who knew the middle-class audience well – and numbered popular novelists such as Bennett, Galsworthy and Maugham among his clients – was a particularly adroit move. Reaching out to that audience – and educating and informing them – in his role as a reviewer for the Sunday Referee was another calculated strategy, as well as a source of income.
The Colonel's Daughter is the story of a fifteen-month period in the life of a young middle-class woman in a Home Counties village in the aftermath of the First World War. Her genteel poverty, limited intelligence, plain appearance, dutiful conduct and unquestioning acceptance of the values that have been imposed upon her deny her the opportunity to escape her humdrum existence, even by marriage. For Aldington it was a huge irony that the very values which he attacked in the novel would come into play in the attempts to suppress it. His biggest problem was the subscription libraries. Few middle-class readers purchased books; instead they subscribed to the circulating libraries – Boots Booklovers Library, Mudie's, W.H. Smith's, The Times' or Harrod's. The libraries were by far the biggest purchasers of fiction and the gatekeepers of this middle-class readership. The refusal of Boots or W.H. Smith to stock a book would have a massive impact on its sales. Justifying its decision to withdraw The Colonel's Daughter from circulation, Boots told Chatto that its customers wanted a book which encouraged them to see 'the worthwhileness of things, not the sordidness of life'. Meanwhile, W. Roy of W.H. Smith, which had refused to stock the novel in the first place, wrote: 'There are probably three, and certainly two, scenes in the book whose details are not to be excused by any artistry or by any requirement of the plot or movement of the story.'
The response of the booksellers and stationers was similar. The most hostile were the Cambridge bookshops – Heffers, Bowes & Bowes, and Deighton, Bell & Company – who cited their responsibility to protect the young people who were their chief customers as their reason for cancelling their orders. There were some positive voices among the booksellers. Oxford seems to have been more enlightened than Cambridge, the Blackwell's buyer commenting as he ordered 50 copies, that he had found the book 'so human and full of humour'. In general, however, booksellers had to be circumspect. Alfred Wilson of Ship Tavern Passage, Gracechurch Street, London, for example, appreciatively described the novel as 'a witty and caustic picture of modern tendencies as they encroach on the old standards of country life', but regretted that: 'For many of my subscribers I am afraid that it is a little too coarse in places, as I have a number of clergymen and middle class ladies on my lists.'
While pre-publication sales to the libraries and bookshops accounted for a huge share of the first printing, reviews were crucial to the maintenance of the sales figures after publication. Not belonging to any of the established groups which divided up the London literary world – and the journals – Aldington could not hope for any 'log-rolling'. Indeed, he feared quite the reverse.
He could at least count on the support of Hayter Preston, literary editor at the Sunday Referee, who announced that, while he had no desire to question the commercial or critical right of those booksellers who had banned The Colonel's Daughter, 'Readers who have for the past year enjoyed Mr Aldington's weekly critical reviews of current literature in the Sunday Referee will doubtless form their own opinions as to his high-minded regard for truth and his sincerity of purpose.' Reviewing the novel in the same issue, Edward Crickmay grasped both why it caused widespread offence and why it was, nevertheless, important:
If at times one's conventional literary conscience – for that is all it is – is shocked by Mr Aldington's vigorous expression one becomes used to it before the end of the book is reached.... Unlike most of his contemporaries, he believes in something and his beliefs at once barb and justify his assaults.
Even the Daily Mail reviewer, Douglas West, was able to make this distinction, commenting that the novel was 'disfigured by one or two needlessly brutal passages which will cause offence to the majority of readers' but calling it 'a bitter though impressive book, which strips English life since the war of what the author considers its dangerous shams and hypocrisies'. West said that the novel revealed Aldington as 'a vigorous satirist' and added that it was 'enlivened by a great deal of wit and adorned by gleams of genuine beauty.'
Given the broad base of his middle-class readership, Aldington needed favourable reviews from both the 'popular' and the 'serious' dailies and Sunday press. Unlike the Daily Mail, the Daily Express was dismissive, calling the novel 'tiresome' and its characters 'futile'. Amongst the 'serious' newspapers, The Manchester Guardian was the most disapproving, remarking that Aldington, 'like a victim of disease', had become 'obsessed' and saw everything 'in terms of deformity, excrescence, spiritual sickness'. The Morning Post was enthusiastic, while the Times reviewer was more measured, remarking that, 'Now and again some brutality of phrase or suggestion makes one wince', but noting 'the liveliness and colour of the narrative, shot through with gleams of beauty when he turns from men and women to Nature'. Ralph Straus in The Sunday Times similarly found 'life and colour and a curious strength' in the book despite its 'lapses in good taste'. Rounding up 'The Year's Books' in December, Straus would write: 'Richard Aldington may have shocked the Puritans with The Colonel's Daughter, but of its high literary merits there can be no possible doubt.' Howard Marshall in the Daily Telegraph found both 'an honest fury' and 'a sense of pity' in the novel but concluded that 'Mr Aldington... will do better when he has cooled down a little', and expressed his concern about the occasional 'unnecessary and stupid coarseness'.
It was the journals that Aldington feared, since several of them had become the fiefdoms of the Criterion set and their connections. However, Dobrée's review in The Spectator was encouraging. He found the novel 'vividly and expertly written, with an admirable command of phrase and allusion'. There was a reservation, however: '[E]very now and then his pungent satire descends to sneering.... [Y]ou cannot cleanse without love, and great satire is essentially humane.' Aldington could not let a Criterion man get away with this and wrote to Dobrée, telling him that he had missed 'all the major intentions and implications' of the book: 'Because I laugh at the human comedy, you assume I have no compassion.' '[D]oesn't Georgie... suggest to you,' he asked, 'that even an ugly, ordinary, stupid girl may possess almost heroic qualities, and though utterly defeated in the search for happiness still retain a real moral dignity?'
Other reviews focused almost entirely on the 'sneering'. Frank Kendon in John O' London's Weekly remarked that '[a]s an exhibition of unnecessary (though entirely literary) cruelty, The Colonel's Daughter leaves a bull-fight nowhere'. 'From the secret recesses of the souls of his creatures,' he continued, 'Mr Aldington draws out, with bitter laughter, their wriggling vices, their vicious stupidities, their unspeakable desires.' Yet he conceded that the character of Georgie 'did awaken much curiosity and not a little sympathy'. Desmond McCarthy's Life and Letters called the novel, 'a book full of personal hatred, without idealism, without hope, in which no one circumstance and no one character ever comes to fulfilment'. In the violent language that the novel seems to have provoked amongst reviewers, he remarked that 'each incident... seems like a dead child aborted by a callous vivisectionist'. St John Ervine in Time and Tide called the book 'ill-written, ill-natured, vulgar and venomous' and expressed incredulity at the favourable reviews in The Morning Post and Punch. ('You will recognise the light touch of the Prince of Bullshitters!' Aldington wrote to Prentice, no doubt recalling Ervine's damning review of Death of a Hero in 1929.)
David Murray in The Times Literary Supplement (TLS) did perceive Aldington's 'wry pity' for his heroine and one or two other characters, but regretted that 'there does not seem to be anybody in his book for whom he has affection or respect' and objected, like other reviewers, to 'details and phrases of a rawness that makes us wonder... whether Mr Aldington has any taste at all'. The New Statesman reviewer also recognised the 'veiling pity' in Aldington's handling of his heroine, that 'makes her both real and moving', but felt that the novel otherwise fell back on 'stagey caricature types' and that 'an overweening sense of dreariness and triviality and blague' vitiated much of the writer's satiric intention.
Punch went completely against the trend. 'The Colonel's Daughter,' the reviewer declared, 'is not, in the village sense of that epithet, a "nice" book, but I venture to think it is a great one because of its humanity.' He even went on to compare the character of Georgie Smithers with Hardy's Tess.
Aldington's letters revealingly apply metaphors of war to this controversy. He apologised to Harold Raymond, Prentice's other partner at Chatto that he and Parsons had 'got all the front-line strafe', while he and Prentice 'were in HQ dugouts'. He told MacGreevy that Prentice had gone back to London 'determined to fight to the last ditch' and lamented that the whole situation was 'Cambrai 1917 – we broke the line but the reserves weren't there'. In mid-May, as sales of the novel slowed down, he told Prentice: 'Very few books could have survived the barrage poor Georgie has been through since the 30th, and it would have been surprising indeed if she had come through without casualties.' He estimated that the Smith's and Boots' ban had lost Chatto at least 2,000 sales.
Sydney Schiff, who had written enthusiastically about the novel to Aldington, was told that, in response to the 'intensive campaign against the book', Everyman, which had earlier offered Aldington some work, must have 'taken alarm'. Malcolm Hilbery had written to tell Aldington that he had found nothing shocking in the novel, but did not respond to a request that he write to the press to say so. Aldington had also had a 'charming letter' from H.G. Wells, he told Read, but Wells had 'not said the fifty words in public that would have sent Boots-Smith off with their tails down.' '[A]ll these people are either lazy or cowards,' he told Prentice. 'We must feed the guns ourselves.' However, he mentioned an enthusiastic letter from the Glovers, 'backing us to the last ditch'. He was hurt by the lack of public support from fellow writers. 'Even when we dislike each other,' he told Read, 'we ought to stand up for one of the trade against an outside attack'.
For him this was a battle – perhaps a campaign (and one that, to an extent, he relished, as his correspondence demonstrates) – in two senses. First, he was up against both the snobbery of the literary élite and the prudishness of the middle-classes. A letter to Prentice in early June, as the furore died down, encapsulated his views:
There is a legend about me among the highbrow and reviewing sets, i.e. bad temper &c &c. And a lot of them disliked my early work and prophesied that I should never do anything; so they have to stick to their prophecies. Notice that only with Georgie has the legend ceased that I cannot write a novel and cannot construct character. Further there is the inner jealousy felt by the unsuccessful writer (which is what most reviewers are) for the writer who gets a public. Aldous, Strachey, even Osbert suffer from this. But they all have an aura of inherited respectability. What is intolerable is that a poor man should emancipate himself from the drudgery of reviewing. Again, I championed writers like Joyce and Lawrence, who are now admittedly masters, at a time when all the reviewers were trying to knock them down. Further there is some moral society which tries to get books suppressed. I judge that the Dame Gwynne episode and the library ban might very likely be traced to their activities.... That is the extent of the 'conspiracy'. Certainly it is not 'organised', but I notice a similarity of terms of disparagement among the Criterion set, and another set of terms among the old Liberal hacks. The reason we get the best reviews from Conservative papers is that their reviewers are really more independent than either the highbrows or the Lib-Lab lot. I mean they judge for themselves and not by group gossip.'
The criticisms of tastelessness, sneering and cruelty had hurt him, although he had clearly heard the notes of approval too. He identifies here four sources of the hostility: jealousy, snobbery, his past support for Joyce and Lawrence, and the existence of a moral crusade. He was probably correct on all counts, although his defensiveness and the degree to which he personalised all criticism was unfortunate; he might have identified those critics who had no axe to grind and paid them closer attention, or even attempted serious consideration of some of the criticisms of the novel, regardless of their provenance. That Prentice was so supportive was a limitation in some respects. Aldington was to be plagued throughout his career, and ultimately with very harmful personal and professional consequences, by an inability – or unwillingness? – to temper strongly felt emotion with any degree of authorial detachment.
The other sense in which the controversy was embattled – at least on the writer's side – is that the novel itself was effectively a continuation of Death of a Hero, a further onslaught on the Victorian and Edwardian values which lay behind the war and which continued to plague Britain in the 1920s. He told Reeves that it dealt with 'the prolongation of pre-war mentalities into the post-war world'. In the tenth volume of the Oxford English Literary History Chris Baldick notes: 'the pervasion of the satirical impulse across the range of literary genres, movements and schools' in the aftermath of the First World War. He maintains that: 'it was a mark of literary modernity to discard as a feature of "Victorianism" all false respect for the old idols of Home, School, Nation and Empire, and likewise to subject the old virtues, whether of patriotic heroism or of domestic respectability, to what was now called "debunking"'. However, Baldick goes on to argue that the more adventurous prose satirists of the 1920s and 1930s attempted the bigger challenge of 'setting out to map the "waste land" of modern civilisation and to caricature the hollow men and women who peopled it'. He cites Lewis, Huxley, Isherwood and Evelyn Waugh as the key figures in this project. The Colonel's Daughter attempts this very task. While it debunks the 'old virtue' of domestic respectability which dooms his heroine to a life of non-fulfilment, it mounts an equally powerful attack upon the intelligentsia and a yet more savage one upon the forces of modernity, the amoral, self-indulgent youth of the upper middle-class and the capitalists who were the true victors of the war.
Modern readers are unlikely to be offended by the passages which attracted the censure of the subscription libraries, but we might agree that at times the satire descends into sneering and find the farcical portrayals of the low-life characters and the novel's self-consciously mock-heroic epilogue heavy-handed. (Prentice, never one to impose his judgements, knew that the epilogue – originally planned as a prologue – was clumsy.) Nevertheless, several characters are treated with some sympathy, even compassion, most of all Georgie herself. The venom of the novel is directed at the genuinely malicious, insensitive or self-serving.
We might feel less inclined to be critical of Aldington's depiction of 'Georgie' than of the insensitivity with which he made use of his real-life source. That the novel is closely modelled on the inhabitants of Padworth in the 1920s, in particular on Aldington's landlord and near-neighbour Brigadier-General Mills and his family, with whom Aldington and Yorke had enjoyed social contact, can be seen as an act of tastelessness, even unkindness. Georgie Smithers' story – including even the flirtation with a local clergyman, but most especially the circumscribed nature of her existence – is completely accurate. Aldington's estimations of the limitations of her appearance and intelligence are cruel and his account of her sexual longings intrusive. That she is portrayed as a kindly creature who excites the reader's pity can have been little compensation for the humiliation that the real-life Georgie, Helen Mills, must have experienced as she – and most of the village of Padworth – read Aldington's novel.
That the experience was distressing for her is confirmed by the research of David Wilkinson, whose investigations into the real-life origins of The Colonel's Daughter have been published. Jessie Capper, who witnessed Helen Mills's embarrassment, was inclined to be charitable:
The 'heroine' was drawn truthfully, sparing nothing, but she was drawn with great sympathy. She 'lived'. It was cruel of him to write it under his own name, for the subject of the book actually read it, and I could see how much it hurt her. But all the same, it was an artistic portrayal, and it was done with sympathy, though she wasn't likely to be able to see this.
In some respects, however, Aldington's familiarity with Home Counties village life is the strength of the novel. This is true not only of its detailed, if satiric, social observation but also of its realisation of the natural landscape in all seasons, although even the pastoral is folded into the ironic vision of the novel as the final description of it is given to the self-satisfied Purfleet:
He spent some little time trying to determine exactly how to classify the scene he was looking at. It was obviously English landscape school between 1770 and 1840, and probably a water-colour, for only water-colour could 'get' those very damp-looking white clouds with darker borders and the rather mottled look of the distance. Turner was too obvious, too much a martyr to the picturesque. Constable perhaps? Yes, very much Constable in a way, but there was a touch of Bonnington in the handling of the middle-distance, and quite a Crome-ish bit in the foreground.
While the actions of the circulating libraries, the moral crusade against the novel and disparaging reviews undoubtedly affected its commercial success, by August 1931 a respectable 8,500 copies had been sold. Aldington had meanwhile turned his satirical aim on targets closer to home. Baldick notes that, 'the temperature of modern satire tends to rise when it seeks its targets among the author's private enemies'. Aldington had already demonstrated the truth of this in his portraits of Pound, Ford, Eliot and Lawrence in Death of a Hero. The personal lampoons of his Soft Answers, however, reached a new level of rancour, particularly 'Stepping Heavenward', his satirical 'biography' of Eliot.
Such lampoons were rife in literary London and were driven as much by personal resentments as by literary ideals. The Georgiad, Roy Campbell's mock-heroic poem attacking the Bloomsbury Group (along with Robert Graves, Laura Riding and Humbert Wolfe) was chiefly motivated by Campbell's fury over his wife's affair with Vita Sackville-West. The most venomous portraits in The Apes of God, Lewis's attack on the dominant literary groups of the day, were of those who had been his patrons, such as the Sitwells, the Schiffs, Dick Wyndham and Edward Wadsworth. (Lewis could never forgive those to whom he had been indebted; 'A friend who does him a favour is doubly his enemy,' Aldington told Schiff.) Aldington hugely admired The Apes of God, telling Read: 'It has more energy and concentrated scorn and superb writing than anything I've read for a long time.' However, he did concede that the book was too 'intellectual' and didactic for a novel, and 'could be immensely improved by being cut down by a third'.
In his Sunday Referee column he identified the main problem: 'Mr Lewis has superb intellectual courage.... [Apes of God] is a great display of ferocious knight-errantry, but I was disappointed that our St George came home with a bag of lizards and worms, instead of one or more of the numerous dragons which infest the landscape.' His review of Osbert Sitwell's Dumb Animals and Other Stories a few months later gives us a clearer notion of his own understanding of the satirical mode:
His satire is witty rather than fierce or indignant, but it is one of his most effective methods. It is the satire of a generous-hearted man who is revolted by cruelty, stupidity and humbug. It has power, because Mr Sitwell is not afraid of his feelings, and it gains immensely in effectiveness by contrast with his sense of beauty.
In the five short satires that Aldington grouped under the title Soft Answers, Eliot is the subject of 'Stepping Heavenward' and Cunard of 'Now Lies She There', while 'Nobody's Baby' is about Pound; 'Yes, Aunt' and 'A Gentleman of England' are more generalised satires about representative figures whom Aldington despised – a dilettante amateur writer, and a war profiteer, neither of whom enlisted in 1914-1918. Tellingly, the latter theme runs across the collection, the failure to serve in the war being highlighted in the cases of both Eliot and Pound. Sexual politics, another Aldingtonian theme, figures in all five stories. The original intention was a collection of short tales entitled Wives of Great Men, and the merciless scrutiny of a marital relationship remains at the centre of four of them.
'Now Lies She There' clearly had its roots in his recent falling-out with Cunard but perhaps also in her earlier rejection of him as a lover. It shares with 'Nobody's Baby' a framework that is deceptively informal and relaxed, involving an observer-narrator and an acquaintance, through whose meetings and conversations the protagonist's story is pieced together; but the portrait of the heroine is penetratingly cruel in its social and psychological analysis and the narrative outcome savage – although its power to shock the modern reader may lie in its correspondence with the tragic circumstances in which Cunard's life was to end 33 years on.
This narrative framework works even more effectively in 'Nobody's Baby' since this story is the pursuit of a puzzle, the parentage of the child produced by 'Charlemagne Cox' and his wife 'Ophelia' (Ezra and Dorothy Pound). The tale is a satirical romp and the portrayal of Pound is shrewd, exuberant and entertaining; but the representation of Ophelia is poignant, the narrator finding her, some years after the war, to have become a 'husk of a woman... emptied of life'... suffering from 'a kind of premature withering like an apple left too long on a fruit-dish... a kind of virginal pathos in her fragility, in the thin hands and wrists, and the legs which seemed too long for so tiny a trunk'.
The pitiless portrait of a marriage is repeated – more cruelly – in 'Stepping Heavenward':
Adèle became more and more unhappy. It is always rather unpleasant to live with a genius, but quite awful when he is a Cibber.... [He] considered [marriage] as an inviolable legal contract, implying none but social obligations.... Cibber invariably stood up when she came into the room, and their quarrels were conducted on coldly intellectual lines.
Given the dismal state of the Eliot marriage, which would end in formal separation in 1933, the description seems particularly intrusive. The rejection of Eliot the poet is more understandable – and of long standing.
Aldington had told Eliot back in 1919 that he thought his poetry 'overintellectual and afraid of those essential emotions which make poetry'. That view never changed.
Nevertheless, the lampoon, taking the form of an obituary purporting to present 'a cool unbiased account of this celebrated life in its private rather than public aspects', is savage. Aldington told Prentice that he would not mind if the latter advised against publication, but Prentice told him: 'Cibber is devastating, it is masterful... such cold and controlled ferocity I have never seen before.' In February 1931, with Chatto's permission, Orioli published a limited edition of the story, and Chatto issued it as a Dolphin later in the year (prior to including it in Soft Answers in the spring of 1932). At this point Geoffrey Faber (Eliot's publisher) – apparently unaware of the prior existence of the Orioli edition – wrote to ask Chatto to withdraw it. Faber claimed that Eliot knew nothing of the story, and Aldington told Schiff that if Eliot had written to him personally, he would probably have withdrawn it; as it was, there was no further communication on the subject. Patmore, who had once been quite a close friend of Vivien Eliot, thought the satire 'too cruel' and even Aldington admitted to H.D., when he told her of the imminent publication of Soft Answers, 'I don't much like the book... never want to see it again, but I suppose it rounds off certain grouches.' 'Rounded off' perhaps, but they would never be abandoned; as late as 1957 Aldington would tell the literary critic John Atkins:
I do think that Eliot managed to cash in on the work done by Ford, Lewis, Pound and myself, because Ford, Lewis and I did three years in the army, and Pound cleared out in 1919. Eliot sucked up to the bishops and the dons and the editors and the reviewers – and got his reward. Well, I'd rather be in the discard with Lewis and Campbell.
The book had a print run of about 2,500 copies and a smattering of reviews. Some were approving. Crickmay, of the not-disinterested Sunday Referee, thought the collection 'one of the most remarkable comments on the last decade that has yet been written', arguing that it placed Aldington alongside some of the best satirists in English literature, and proved him to be 'without a peer among his contemporaries'. Straus was also encouraging: 'He may irritate you, but he never ceases to demand your attention. For my part I found the book engrossing, and, at the end of it, was wishing, like Oliver, for more.' However, Orlo Williams of the Criterion camp, writing in the TLS, was critical of the way in which Aldington still carried around 'emotional relics of the War': 'It is impossible,' he argued, 'to get a proper view of the world today, even artistically, with the eyes of ten years ago.' The Times reviewer also felt that Aldington's indignation seemed to be 'too exclusively nourished from his War complex'.
That Aldington was not finished with the war and the bitterness would be evident in his next project, but it would not be a work of satire.
### 5. The Public Face Elegist and Romantic
The 'war sketches' that make up Roads to Glory were written over the course of the year immediately following the completion of Death of a Hero in May 1929. 'I must clear up the odds and ends of the experience, before I go on to anything more hopeful,' Aldington wrote to Prentice in August. Frere begged, with Prentice's agreement, to have one story to publish; two more went to Elkin Mathews; and five appeared in Nash's Pall Mall Magazine, acting as 'kite-flyers', the reception of which encouraged Chatto to bring out the full collection of thirteen in September 1930, a year after the appearance of Death of a Hero. Covici, Friede, Aldington's American publishers, struggling to survive in the wake of the Wall Street Crash, were reluctant to publish the stories until Aldington had given them another novel; Pinker advised a move to Nelson Doubleday, Frere's patron. The book was dedicated to Frere. Aldington wrote one more war story, not included in the collection: 'Last Straws' he had promised to Cunard, the arrangement which led to misunderstanding, acrimony and the termination of their friendship.
The finest of the stories are those which not only draw closely on Aldington's own war and postwar experience but which are filtered through the consciousness of characters closely resembling himself in their experience, circumstances and temperament: Cumberland in 'Meditation on a German Grave'; Ellerton in 'Victory'; Hanley in 'At All Costs'; Davison in 'Sacrifice Post'; Henson in 'The Lads of the Village'; and, most of all, Brandon in 'Farewell to Memories', the most autobiographical narrative of them all. The titular character in 'The Case of Lieutenant Hall' also endures many of the aftermath's disappointments and humiliations and much of the guilt and trauma undergone by his creator. (Much of the account of Hall's nightmare world would reappear in the portrait of Anthony Clarendon in All Men Are Enemies.) These are men coping with the strains of war, or with post-traumatic stress in 'the almost as merciless life of Peace, with its grim slogan: Money or starve'.
One feature saves them (apart from the tragic Hall): 'Yes, one can be hungry, sore, unshaven, dirty, eyes and head aching, limbs shivering and yet love beauty.' A decade on, Cumberland in 'Meditation on a German Grave' marvels at the landscape between Rome and Naples, the 'pageant of colours' in a Naples market, the moonlit islands in the Bay of Naples, the wildlife of a Mediterranean island. In contrast we are given vivid descriptions of the desolate Western Front in the war's final months. Davison, the protagonist in 'Sacrifice Post', is struck by the contrast between the battered landscape he leaves behind him, as he goes off (like his creator) on a signals course, and the lush, fertile countryside he enters: 'Which was the reality, which the dream? They couldn't both be true, they couldn't both exist in the same world.' The world, he concludes, is divided into creative and destructive impulses, and nationalism is a destructive urge. The determination to carry this message to others is the other feature that gives some of these characters a reason to live: 'It was the duty of the survivors to the dead so to warn the world that this abomination never occurred again,' says Ellerton in 'Victory'. Brandon in 'Farewell to Memories' feels that 'the danger is that we shall say too much' but he, too, understands the importance of giving voice to memory: better this than that the tale be told 'by one who did not endure it, for the sake of those who will not care about it'.
The short-story format does not allow for character development, which is why the use of these alter egos is so effective; but there are also some judicious 'pen portraits', such as Isaacson, Cumberland's kindly and generous business partner in 'Meditation on a German Grave', and the company commander in 'Victory', a former clerk, whose 'kindliness and paper fever involved him in long, carefully docketed correspondence with the relatives of the dead'. Some of them are minor characters, like the 'handsome, but hard-eyed, hard-mouthed captain of twenty-five' in 'Meditation on a German Grave' or the landlord and the farm labourer in 'The Lads of the Village'. The verisimilitude of so many of the stories is reinforced by Aldington's sharp ear for dialogue.
Nevertheless, there are several crude stereotypes, characterisations which serve to press home social critique rather than to embody a human story, for example the cuckolded husband in 'Of Unsound Mind'. Perhaps the nastiest story in the book is 'Killed in Action' with its two (working-class) competitive, bullying and brutal NCOs, whose crude Cockney dialogue throughout makes it highly unconvincing that one of them achieves the rank of captain. The note of personal bitterness and the lack of creative distance that at times characterise Death of a Hero are apparent in several of the stories, often accompanied by a strain of intellectual or social snobbery. In 'Deserter' neither the young protagonist, the older man who converts him 'to his own very crude and rather vague materialism', nor the young man's grasping lover is an engaging character. Aldington may have saved most of his scorn for middle-class conventionality, vulgarity and hypocrisy (displayed forcefully in the story 'Of Unsound Mind') but he found the working classes no more sympathetic: we are told at the beginning of 'Deserter' that 'Harry Werner was a rather lonely sort of a chap' and that 'His mother, with the not-unfounded working-class prejudice against hospitals, insisted that the child should be born in their own squalid home; and died of puerperal fever in consequence'. There is an astounding lack of sympathy for Harry ('He was a good-looking youth in a curly, vulgar way') throughout the story, up to and including his death by firing squad.
Women come in for considerable contempt, the self-serving mistresses in 'Deserter' and 'Love for Love' particularly. '[W]e're helpless victims of the cowardice, greed and gullibility of man and womankind, especially womankind,' laments Lieutenant Hall. An exception is the pitiful Evelyn in 'Of Unsound Mind', a victim of middle-class hypocrisy, but over-idealised, as is her artist lover. The Church is another target; Davison in 'Sacrifice Post' concludes that 'we must grow out of religion'. 'How on earth,' he asks, 'did it come about that all the things denounced in the Gospels are violently defended by the Christian sects?' Aldington's world is still divided into those who fought and those who did not, and it is the indifference with which the latter treat the former in the postwar world that provokes the most bitter condemnation. The coroner at Lieutenant Hall's inquest remarks that, 'young men returning to civilian life... must... realise that they had no right to expect that they should drop into easy jobs, or that they could all keep up the standard of extravagant living they had been accustomed to in the Army.'
One of the structural features that gives several of the stories their compactness and punch is Aldington's employment of the dramatic and 'distancing' ending: the bathos of the last sentences of 'Victory'; the demise of Hanley in 'At All Costs' and Davison in 'Sacrifice Post'; the suicides in 'Love for Love' and 'The Case of Lieutenant Hall'; and the execution of Harry in 'Deserter'.
The strongest of the stories are those in which the anger of the narrator of Death of a Hero is replaced by pity for the dead, particularly the 'framing' stories, 'Meditation on a German Grave' and 'Farewell to Memories', but also the exquisitely realised 'The Lads of the Village', 'Victory' and 'At All Costs'. The last three named share several features: they are short and employ unity of place and time along with understated and realistic dialogue; and all five narratives are filtered through the perspective and consciousness of an Aldington alter ego. He wrote the prose poetry extracts that punctuate the storyline of 'Farewell to Memories' in the last weeks of the war and the period immediately after the Armistice, and it is with one of these that the collection concludes: 'Lost terrible comrades, we, who might have died, salute you.'
MacGreevy wrote of 'The Lads of the Village':
Atmospherically, it was perfect, and humanly it was as tender as any piece of English written in our time. It had nothing tendentious, there was no propaganda – which made it all the better as propaganda; there was not a word wrong, or a word misplaced, or a word too many.
Other responses to the collection were mixed but several critics remarked on the authenticity of the stories. 'Soldiers will like these stories. They deal with recognisable men. The dialogue is authentic. They have the manner and technique of the trenches; they almost smell of the trenches,' the News Chronicle reviewer wrote; while Edmund Blunden commented in the TLS that, while the detail might 'slip away' from those who weren't combatants, 'they must be moved by the constant sense of the man behind the book: by a mind that, at this considerable interval after the War, is racked still on the disaster and the devastation.' This was recognition by a fellow veteran of the continuing cost of the war in the emotional lives of its survivors. In the New Statesman Horace Gregory noticed that: '[Aldington] does what almost no other writer dealing with the horror and futility of war has done – he follows up the implications of war in the years of peace which have followed it.'
Aldington's third novel, All Men Are Enemies (subtitled A Romance), would continue this preoccupation, and its protagonist shares even more with his creator in terms of experience and outlook than do the characters in Roads to Glory. The other major themes are also familiar ones: 'Anthony Clarendon,' the 'Author's Note' tells us, 'holds to two instinctive beliefs which I willingly allow to be romantic: First that the complete human being is formed by a man and a woman; second that living implies much more than acquiescence in a set of formal beliefs, more than getting and spending money.' Like his creator, Anthony abandons 'the secular religions of Nationalism, Socialism and Communism' just as he abandons 'a false marriage and a false career'. The 'finer fuller life' for which he opts is 'the life of the here and now, the life of the senses, the life of the deep instinctive forces'. When Louise Morgan of Everyman asked Aldington what he would like his reader to take from the book, his answer was: 'This: that they should live life WITH ALL THEIR SENSES. That they should put themselves in harmony with the world.' He added: 'The artist... must say not only what life is, but also what it might be. He shows how better life can be lived.' As for the novel's title, Anthony Clarendon instinctively understands from a young age that:
what for him were the essential, all-important experiences could be revealed to others only at his peril.... [I]f you went to life with all your senses open, with your body as well as your mind, with your own fresh feelings instead of abstract laid-down ones, then indeed all men were your enemies.
The novel ends with Anthony's warning his lover that their hardest task will be 'to guard [their] love from the world of men'.
The greater part of the novel completed on Capri in the early summer of 1932, Aldington and Patmore met up with Frere and his new partner, Pat Wallace, at Toulon and travelled with them to Bormes-les-Mimosas, near Le Lavandou, where he managed to write a further 4,500 words; but this was also a busy spot, and after two weeks he and Patmore travelled on by train to Brantôme in the Dordogne. At the Hotel Chabrol on the banks of the River Dronne, with 'a view of the sparkling river and the old bridge' from his window as he wrote, he completed the novel. Patmore preceded him to England on 14 September to leave him alone to write the last chapter. Three days later he wrote to her: 'Darling, the end is the best of all, but it's been such an imaginative agony, so much weeping, all mixed up with indigestion, that I have been in a kind of daze, another world so real that my own life becomes the dream.' On his return to England on 22 September (in the chance company of Lewis), he had to be admitted for two weeks to a nursing home with a suspected (but never confirmed) duodenal ulcer, a symptom of the exhausted nervous state in which the writing of the novel had left him.
The novel's first part concerns Anthony Clarendon's upbringing in the years before the war. While he grows up in the Kent countryside and has a mentor much like Aldington's own Dudley Grey, with 'his deep enthusiasm for Italy', Anthony's parents bear little resemblance to the writer's: his father 'has a love of truth and contempt for humbug and stupidity', while his mother is characterised by her 'sensibility and faith in an ultimate human goodness'. Nor is there any of the financial insecurity that blighted Aldington's own upbringing. However, one autobiographical element, which appears also in Death of a Hero, is the sexualisation of the young boy through erotic experiences with both young girls and older women. (In Aldington's correspondence with Eunice Gluckman [née Black], a lover of whom we shall hear more later, he refers on several occasions to the 'active sex life' he lived in his 'pre-puberty' years.) Scrope, Anthony's mentor, sees him as 'over-developed in some ways, under-developed in others, admirably unfitted for the rough and tumble of life'. 'You've been made sensitive to all the attacks of life,' he tells the young man, 'with no shield to protect you.' On a 1914 tour of Italy that is intended to prepare him for a career as an architect, Tony visits the island of Aeaea (modelled on Capri where Aldington and H.D. had spent those five idyllic weeks in 1913) where he meets and falls in love with Katha, a young Austrian woman. Planning to meet again in London in August to begin a permanent life together, they return to their respective homelands.
Part Two opens in 1919, thus emphasising the rupture of the war, the outbreak of which has prevented the couple's reunion and in which Anthony, like his creator, has served as an infantry officer. He is suffering from post-traumatic stress, plagued by nightmares and vainly attempting to make contact with Katha. Meanwhile another woman, Margaret, with whom he had a brief affair during the war, is pressing him into marriage. He makes a fruitless journey to Vienna and on to Aeaea to find Katha.
A further time-shift takes us in Part Three to 1926 – the year of the General Strike (in which Anthony uneasily – like his creator – helps, out of personal loyalty, to get The Times out in the face of picketing). Here we find that Anthony has become a businessman and is married to Margaret; but he has reached crisis point:
I've come to the conclusion... that business is... the gradual death of all vital instincts and feelings.... It substitutes possession of objects for the true possession of oneself and of life; it substitutes stimulants for sensation, parties for conversation, self-interest for friendship, competitive games for the fine arts.... Working and trading are essentials, but business is a parasite, it is the art of exploiting trade and work. To me it is a betrayal of the fundamental things. It enriches a few and impoverishes many, and destroys the genuine life of everybody.
Nevertheless, he does not believe in the class war (and the characters who do are drawn unsympathetically): 'I'm concerned with my own individual life, and I'll at least say this for Capitalism, it doesn't wholly prevent my having one.' He resigns from his job and goes abroad for a while 'to think matters over'. In Part Four, set in 1927, Anthony separates from Margaret and goes abroad once more – where he is reunited with Katha on the island of Aeaea.
In view of the novel's title, it is noteworthy, as Elizabeth Vandiver points out, that Aldington chose to make his heroine an Austrian. The 'ideal' is represented by a foreign national from one of the nations that had been the 'enemy' of 1914-1918. Speaking of the war to his old mentor, Anthony says: 'It didn't seem to matter who won – it was a victory for evil anyway.' In a state of helpless rage at his circumstances, he thinks: 'He was no Christian, no conscientious objector. He was ready to kill right enough. But no fake enemies in field grey – the real enemies at home.' Towards the end of the novel, however, he tells Katha: 'We must pluck murder from our hearts along with old sorrow and old regret. We must sow love and happiness where they planted destruction and misery.' That Katha is infertile, owing to her sufferings in the war, casts doubt, metaphorically, on this project, and all her lover can promise her in the concluding paragraph is: 'To-day and to-day, that must be enough.'
Despite Aldington's ultimate dismissal of socialism and communism, the novel would be taken up with enthusiasm in the USSR; a note in the 1983 Russian edition of the novel makes clear why this occurred:
The novel... narrates the fate of a bourgeois intellectual, a representative of the 'lost generation'. By pointing out the contrasts and contradictions of the bourgeois world, by unmasking the evil generated by it – war, parasitism, spiritual degradation, the author shows how in the consciousness of people like Antony Clarendon a recognition of historical truth took root: capitalism had become obsolete, and its downfall inevitable.
Prentice's reactions, as the novel reached him section by section, were totally supportive:
The last batch of Part Three is CORKING; STUNNING; THE BLOODY GOODS – it IS!! When you feel that a thing gets you amidships, as if it were personally meant for yourself; when you read it swoosh and can see that it runs like the finger of fate, the writing is as pointed & lithe & beautiful, & the touch & mood so true that you begin to muse on Troilus & As You Like It & Hamlet – then you know that your confidence is simply recognition of a big marvellous thing.... [H]ow precise & firm the development of Tony, how dramatic; & how lovely the Chartres passage; what a picture the Strike
What Prentice does not appear to have recognised is the creative problem arising from Aldington's close identification with Anthony Clarendon and his beliefs. Aldington himself was aware of the difficulty; he wrote to MacGreevy as he was starting the novel: 'The puzzle is to present ideas as action, but without action and character there is only amateurishness.'
The consequence is that the novel contains too much talk, both from Anthony and from those characters to whom he is ideologically opposed. While Aldington was able to invest the character 'types' of The Colonel's Daughter with individuality and vitality, the characters in his serious romantic novel are often too schematic. Unconsciously highlighting the problem, he told Prentice that the four female characters were supposed to show 'different types of women', with Katha representing 'the perfection'. The contrast between Margaret and Katha is stark, and makes the reader wonder how the marriage could ever have taken place, although Anthony does offer an explanation to his young brother-in-law (one of the few sympathetic and subtle portrayals of a minor character): 'For some reason Margaret seemed to want me very much. Nobody else wanted me; I didn't want myself.... So there you are.' Anthony himself, while a more rounded character and shown at times to be naive, is generally taken too seriously, is too much a mouthpiece for his creator, while the representation of the romantic relationship – a problem we encountered in 'A Dream in the Luxembourg', five years earlier – is often cloying.
The reviews were mixed. In the Daily Mail Compton Mackenzie argued that Aldington had made 'a profound appeal to the human heart without sacrificing a jot of his intellectual appeal'. In a comradely reference to shared war experience, he concluded that the book would demonstrate to the younger generation of writers that, 'if a man has known how to educate himself as an artist, he can survive even the obliteration of his mind by those years of war'. In the TLS, Cyril Falls talked of the novel's 'crudity of ideas' but thought 'the workmanship so good that it disguises this', and remarked that '[t]he scenes of action, such as the strike and the hunt for Katha in Vienna, show Mr Aldington at his best, and that is good'. Stephen Potter in the New Statesman similarly found that there were parts of the book 'which have the authenticity, the sense of uncontainable experience, the dignity even, of Death of a Hero'. (He identified Parts One and Two and 'the search for the girl' and commented further that while Aldington could write of falling in love, 'he describes the bleakness of falling out of love even better'.) However, he regretted 'the flat characters whose unhappy function it is to engage in arguments with the hero and come off worst'. Nevertheless, he concluded that Aldington's importance was that 'he has the power to speak for his generation'.
Doubleday was as certain of the book's merits as Prentice, telling Aldington that it was 'a perfectly magnificent piece of writing', the best thing he had ever done. Another reader who had always appreciated Aldington's romantic writing was Alec Waugh, who would write five years after Aldington's death:
All Men Are Enemies is his most revealing [novel], because in it the two sides of his nature are most markedly contrasted. There is the poetic side of him, and the angry, aggressive side. They are not allowed to mix. They are kept separate. When he is writing of love he is tender, wistful, passionate: the same man who wrote A Dream in the Luxembourg and Crystal World; when he is concerned with social satire, he is the man who wrote Lawrence of Arabia.
Like its predecessors, the novel was a censorship challenge for Chatto. Foreseeing the furore it would provoke, Aldington had suggested as early as July 1932, well before its completion, that the publisher's advance notice should be short and vague and the date of publication kept a secret. By the time it was at the proofing stage (Aldington and Patmore were in Portugal), there were disagreements between author and publisher. By late November Chatto had cut 28 passages, a total of 4,200 words. Aldington wanted asterisks for these passages (mostly in Part Four); when Chatto refused, he withdrew permission for any cuts whatsoever. When Prentice remonstrated, 'It's a blow for us, for we don't see how we can publish AMAE as it originally stood before the cuts were made', Aldington came up with a proposal for a 1,000-copy unexpurgated edition to be published in Paris – at Chatto's expense – prior to British publication. Although Prentice was with his parents in Scotland for Christmas, Aldington made an unplanned dash for the Channel and arrived in London on Christmas Eve. He met with Pinker on 28 December and Pinker met Raymond the next day. On New Year's Eve Aldington wrote to tell Prentice that he had agreed to drop the proposal for an unexpurgated text in favour of 'a bolder but still bowdlerised English version'. He, Patmore, Ralph and Vonnie Pinker were coming up with a proposed text; but, if this was unacceptable to Chatto, he would sell the novel elsewhere and offer the firm another novel. Eventually, after the return to London of the conciliatory Prentice, a text was agreed. (Aldington told Schiff that Chatto had restored 3,000 words.) However, Aldington determined to remain in London until the publication date in April. This time he would not be behind the lines when the strafing began.
He was ready to go into battle. Mustering his allies included enlisting the support of Morgan at Everyman; responding vigorously to perceived attacks was another. In the Chatto archives there is a copy of a letter Prentice wrote to him when Aldington reacted badly to the TLS review and sent him a copy of a letter of protest he intended to send to Bruce Richmond, the TLS editor; the ever-patient (and diplomatic) Prentice writes:
It is a very good letter, but in general I think, and the others do too, that one is bound to lose something of one's dignity by coming down to newspaper level.... [T]hese people are not worth powder and shot.... However, your nature is a more combative one, & if you feel you must put the case to Richmond, we think that the letter would convey your protest excellently. I would, however, suggest some deletions.
There is even a suggested alternative letter for Aldington to consider. The literary heartaches of the writer's later years might have been avoided had Prentice, with his affection for Aldington, his wisdom and reasonableness, remained in the driving seat at Chatto. That Aldington sought his approval before sending his letter indicates his awareness of how much he needed guidance from someone whose judgement he could trust.
Condemnation of the novel was much more muted, however, than he had feared (only Australia banned it) and it reached the bestseller lists, while Pinker soon negotiated an agreement with Twentieth Century Fox, who took out an option on the novel for $1,250. 'I cannot claim,' Aldington wrote to his friend from prewar days, the American philosopher, Henry Slonimsky 'that I have battered down the wall of Jericho of British Philistinism... but I achieved something.... It is not exactly a victory, but I have proved that I cannot be suppressed.'
Richard Aldington, 1934
### 6. The Social Life Fragments 1932-1936
In the autumn of 1932, short of money and in poor health, having collapsed on his arrival in London from the strains of writing All Men Are Enemies, Aldington chose Portugal as a cheap winter destination. The one major purchase he had to make was another second-hand car. In early November he and Patmore arrived in Coimbra in central Portugal, where they started lessons in Portuguese and where Aldington made contact with a group of poets centred on the university. They moved on to Lisbon ('quite a dreary little place') and thence to Setubal. They intended to stay in Portugal all winter, but once Chatto indicated that they were planning massive cuts in the text of All Men Are Enemies, they left for London after a stay of only six weeks.
They returned to the Iberian Peninsula the following autumn, after their summer on the Riviera, this time accompanied by the Glovers. Their tour covered 20 or more Spanish and Portuguese towns and villages and about 4,000 miles. It seems to have been on this trip that they drove along the southern coast of the peninsula and visited Gibraltar. The pattern was always the same: travelling by car, cheap hotels and restaurants and picnic lunches. In this manner they could – and did – cover a lot of ground inexpensively. The Twentieth Century Fox purchase of All Men Are Enemies had bought Aldington time but that money had to last until another novel was ready. It also appears, from cryptic allusions in several letters at this period, that his solicitor had embezzled his savings.
Prior to the 1933 visit, Aldington and Patmore took Glover on a weeklong tour of the Bordeaux region, covering Saint-Emilion, Captieux, Mont de Marsan, Orthez, Oloron, Eaux-Bonnes, Argelès-sur-Mer, Luz-Saint-Sauveur, Gavarnie, Lombez, Auch, Condom and Pissos – some 500 miles. The trip was, Aldington told Prentice, 'a huge success':
Such lovely country, unspoiled old towns and villages, and everywhere good food and wine very cheap. Eight days for the three of us came to about £17, including all our expenses – everything. Glover has been in a kind of rapture. Of course, you do, and always will, come first, but since you couldn't come, I'm pleased I asked Glover. It is his first experience of our kind of motoring, and he lappitup like mad.
The careful record-keeping is characteristic, but so is the joy that such travels are possible. The tour of Spain and Portugal is less well documented, but letters to Prentice and others came from Madrid, Aranjuez and, finally, Alicante. ('This is a rum place: England in southern Spain,' he told Pinker.)
In May 1934, with his fourth novel, Women Must Work, completed and delivered to Chatto, he and Patmore returned to Portugal, covering some 750 miles, northwards from Lisbon to Óbidos, Santarém, Tomar, Leiria, Coimbra, Mafra, Alcobaça, Luso, São Pedro do Sul, Vila Real, Amarante and Arcos de Valdevez. 'Everything is like Italy before the war,' he told Orioli and in Life for Life's Sake he expresses a preference for Portugal over Spain, conceding that the former lacked 'the grandeur and the magnificent art', but claiming that its people were gentler and more friendly, and arguing (evidence of his increasing concern for the environment) that the countryside had been treated 'far more intelligently' and not 'rendered a treeless desert like so much of Spain'. However, they crossed into Spain, where they covered a further 850 miles, travelling through Tui to Vigo and Santiago de Compostela and up to the coast at A Coruña, thence to Lugo, Guadalajara, Calatayud, Zaragoza, Tudela, Pamplona and Roncesvalles, before crossing over the French border and heading north for Bordeaux.
After this extensive tour they drove through France and Switzerland and on to Austria. They were bound for Vienna and, after that, for Budapest, Prague and Warsaw, where Aldington had 'blocked' royalty accounts to access – money that could not cross through the Iron Curtain. They got no further than Feldkirch in Austria; in Life for Life's Sake Aldington gives us a dramatic account of what happened:
On a level straight road between Feldkirch and Bludenz I saw a small car coming towards me at a furious speed. At about a hundred yards' distance from my car, it skidded, and rushed towards me swaying more and more violently from side to side. I stopped dead, hoping it would either upset or sweep past me in an outward swing. But no, it smashed sideways into the front of my car. I saw two people hurled out apparently dead from the wrecked car, and of course mine got a frightful jolt which hurled us first backwards and then forwards. As I recovered from the shock I heard a dripping sound, and instantly thought of fire from the gasoline tank. I shouted to my companion to jump, and scuttled out myself, only to fall helplessly on the ground. The jolt forward had broken my knee-cap against the ignition-key, and my companion's forehead was badly cut by the mirror.
The accident occurred on 8 June and the couple were taken to the Feldkirch Spital. The support network sprang into action. A telegram to Prentice brought Derek Patmore out. He reported to Prentice that his mother was in good shape and would soon be discharged, and that Aldington had had a successful operation on his knee. Two weeks later Frere and Pat arrived, taking a detour on their way to the south of France. It was a month before Aldington was discharged, and progress thereafter was slow. After a fortnight in a hotel, the couple moved to a guest house at Fontanella: 'a tiny hamlet of Austrian chalets, at 6,000 feet [with] a magnificent view across a deep Alpine valley with a river at the bottom to the vast wooded slopes of high mountains opposite'.
Now a more dramatic event occurred: on 25 July 1934 the Austrian Chancellor, Engelbert Dollfuss, was assassinated in Vienna. Frere immediately telegraphed Aldington to leave Austria. For a short time the peace of Europe hung in the balance as Mussolini threatened Hitler and swore to defend the integrity of Austria. The putsch failed, although there were uprisings in other regions of the country, and, as Hitler distanced himself from the events and the heat went out of the international situation, Aldington decided to stay where he was. By early September, however, he and Patmore were restless and, although he had started work on the long poem Life Quest and was writing a series of articles for the Sunday Referee, the accident had affected his concentration. They set off, driving again, for Alsace and Lorraine and from there across France to Brantôme, where Aldington had completed All Men Are Enemies in the late summer of 1932.
Glover was in St Bartholomew's Hospital in London with tuberculosis and they now decided to drive south to Perpignan in search of a place to rent for his convalescence. There their plans became uncertain. They learned that Glover might not be well enough to travel; and Aldington himself had found that his mobility was poor and that he tired easily. Toying with the idea of returning to London, they drifted up to Saint-Emilion in the Bordeaux region ('where all the churches are empty and the cellars are full'). It was the assassinations in Marseilles on 9 October of King Alexander I of Yugoslavia and the French Foreign Minister, Louis Barthou, that decided matters for them: 'Continental Europe... seemed determined to get itself into violent muddles and disorders.'
On their way to London, they called on the Glovers, who were staying with friends in Sussex after Hal's discharge from hospital – and here Aldington slipped on a path and fell, breaking his kneecap once more. He was operated on in the London Clinic in Devonshire Place; it would be nearly four months before he could travel again. To remain in London beyond that was out of the question he told MacGreevy: 'I feel once more as I felt so desperately in 1927-1928, that it's utterly impossible for me to fit into the life here. I suppose you feel much the same.' The supposition is a little surprising, given that MacGreevy had returned to London from Ireland in November of 1933 and would remain there until 1941.
If he could not stomach Britain and was now disenchanted with Europe, then the Americas might be the answer. The Glovers were moving to Arizona, where the dry climate might help Hal recover. For Aldington North America in the winter was out for several reasons: he needed somewhere warm and cheap where he could remain for an indefinite period; and he craved solitariness – and certainly somewhere free of literary society. He chose Tobago.
This was a bold step: over the last five years he had needed the company of his close friends. Even at their most itinerant, he and Patmore had tended to take their friends with them; nor had Patmore been far from her sons. However, MacGreevy was now tied to a living from reviewing and translation and Aldington could no longer afford to subsidise his travel; Frere and Pat only left London (and Kent) in order to travel to the Riviera each summer; the Glovers had left for Arizona; and Prentice was retiring from Chatto in order to spend more time in Greece – and with Douglas and Orioli in Florence.
They left England on 9 February 1935. Tobago turned out to be 'a lucky dip in Fortune's bag'. For five pounds a month they rented an old plantation house, Terry Hill on Mount St George, 'six hundred feet up, with a tremendous vista over steeply sloping country to the Caribbean Sea', and '[e]xcept for the car of an occasional visitor and the infrequent mails, there was no sound or contact from the human world'. In letters to Raymond at Chatto, to Lewis and to Orioli, amongst others, he extolled the delights of the island: the wonderful walks and bathes; the bougainvillea, the hibiscus, the bamboo and the coconut palms; the exotic fruits growing round the house. Ironically, however, so much reminded him of Europe. In the essay 'A Splinter of America' he writes:
Oleanders always make me think of Sirmione, where a long line of them drops – or used to drop, for the world is being fast improved out of such sentimentalities – little flotillas of pink petals on the sulphurous water of Lake Garda. Bougainvillea brings back the south of France, only here they are not all that mauve purple.... The poinsettias are a disappointment, not to be compared with those of Portugal – but then Portugal is the land of flowers.
What this essay also shows is how in this environment he was developing the ideas about humanity's relationship with the planet that he had begun to put forward in his articles for the Sunday Referee the previous year. He argues:
It seems to me that there might be another attitude to life, based on an acceptance of life's mystery and on reverence for its many forms, a more modest conception of man's place in nature, and abhorrence of every kind of greed and destruction. One seems to get glimpses of it in the more ancient civilisations, in the lives of some men, in some poets and even in a few philosophers.
It is not too far-fetched to see Lawrence's influence here. While in Tobago Aldington produced a 5,000-word pamphlet on Lawrence (to be issued free by Heinemann with their new edition of the writer's works) and edited the Lawrence anthology that would be entitled The Spirit of Place. He had also edited a Selected Poems for Secker in 1934. In the pamphlet he speaks of 'the new vision of the world and of man's relation to it towards which [Lawrence] struggled, sometimes with brilliant clarity, occasionally with perplexed incoherence, but always with interest to the few who will patiently follow him'.
From Tobago he wrote to Richard Church, who had told him of his author's block: 'Don't worry – you'll do more poems and more novels. Nobody can be continually creative, not even a Balzac. There must be periods of tranquillity.... The great difficulty, as I know, is to make them periods of repose, not periods of anxiety.' He couldn't resist adding a warning to one whom he felt to be irretrievably immersed in the Criterion set: 'But if one keeps as free as possible from the sterilising influence of highbrowism and all the self-conscious city-bred "culture" then quietly but surely the creative mood returns.'
However, while Tobago gave him the peace to write essays and to do the work on Lawrence, that very peace created a mental disturbance. As so often, it was Frere to whom he wrote about this: 'Curious how in this complete solitude one's past life comes up for review. I have been surprised to find how bitterly I still resent things I thought I had long ago dealt with and forgotten. But no, they are still there.... These things being so, I've practically decided to leave here at the end of May and make for N.Y.' He admitted that 'for reasons of economy' another month would be welcome, but it would be 'false economy' if the coming of the rainy season were to affect their health and if he were unable to work.
Four months after their departure from England they were in New York. Derek Patmore was there to welcome them, as were Eric Pinker, Ralph's brother and manager of the American branch of the agency, and Aldington's American publisher, Doubleday. Aldington's letters to Raymond, now in control at Chatto, demonstrate his ambivalent reactions to America:
Well, Harold, this is a great country. 120 million people, most of them morons. They talk more than any nation in the world, but they are the future. I find it all very exciting.... I've made more friends here in three weeks than I would in a year in England.... It has been a pleasure to me to meet cultivated people without malice, self-consciousness and conceit which are the unholy trinity of literary London.
He told Douglas Goldring that he 'got on well' with the Americans: 'I like the old man-to-man attitude, the real decency and friendliness, something good in them (despite the obvious faults) which gives one back a little faith in the ultimate rightness of some form of democracy.... [V]astly more agreeable than English snobbery and that almost diseased malice of London.' We might pick up here a patronising note, always a feature of his relationship with America.
Principally because of their mutual friendship with the Glovers and concern for their welfare, Aldington was in touch with Church. (They would not correspond again until after the Second World War.) Etta was writing from Arizona, and Aldington had to tell Church that the news was not good: Hal had had a relapse and they intended to return to England in early July. With Church (as with Read, and for the same reason) Aldington felt the need to impress:
I asked Doubleday not to announce my arrival [in New York] so that I could avoid the usual interviewing farce. However, in a few days I was tracked down.... I have been surprised to find how much more my poetry is esteemed here than in England. They have actually read it. And on the day I arrived a beautiful printed edition of the Luxembourg was issued by a private press here. They actually paid me a dollar a copy royalty
His knee was still causing considerable discomfort. An X-ray showed that the bones had not knitted and he had to continue wearing the splint he had been given in Britain. In New York they had a lively social life, partly through the efforts of Derek Patmore, who was making a success of a career as an interior decorator and mounting a major exhibition in Altman's department store; but Aldington soon grew weary of the excitement. There were friendships he had been delighted to renew, particularly those with Slonimsky and with Bacon, but literary soirées and city life in the height of summer did not suit him. Fortunately, he and Patmore had formed a further friendship with Bertie Eskell, the New York doctor, himself an Englishman, whom he had consulted about his knee; and Bertie's wife, Greta, was a keen reader of Aldington's novels. The couple offered him a low-cost rental of their house, Brockway Manor on the Connecticut River at Old Lyme. He moved in on 8 July, his 43rd birthday.
Here he had time to reflect on his impressions of the New World. He wrote to MacGreevy:
There is much more simple goodwill and kindliness than one would ever imagine from the travelling American, and yet it is too often spoiled by an over-excited vanity. The ordinary American strikes me as naïf and very honest; indeed it is only because the average person is so honest that they can be preyed upon by those dreadful gangsters. Something of the old democratic simplicity still exists in New England, at least in the country round here – there are no ladies and gentlemen, but no proletariat or peasants. In N.Y. there is a certain amount of drawing room Communism among the intellectuals – far more than in England; but not much among the people.
However, it was his love of nature that he was most able to indulge at Old Lyme: 'Except when the lightest breath of air comes up from the Connecticut River, the trees stand like some wonderful composition in green enamel. A few cicadas and the hum of bees.' He was struck by how New England was both like and unlike 'old' England, the forests and meadows resembling those of Kent, until one looked closely at the species:
And then except in the laboriously cleared parts, one sees the boulders from the moraines of the last glacial epochs.... And even the old farms have been abandoned, the forest is creeping back, deer come almost to the house, and in the evening one hears curious yelps and howls – foxes I think.
Once more, however, he found his surroundings inimical to work. He told Raymond:
The odd thing here for me personally is that although the country is very beautiful and peaceful and I like it, I'm quite unable to work. That may be partly the effect of the two operations and partly the sense of uneasiness induced by our warlike friends in Italy. But everything I've started has been a failure and had to be scrapped. It is very tiresome.
Whispers of war did indeed trouble him. He shared his anxieties with Slonimsky – as he would throughout the War when it came:
This beautiful American autumn is slowly burning up the green woods into lovely flames of brilliant colour. Every day winter is a little nearer, and each morning I think how the war flames are drawing a little closer to what is left of the old Europe. To me it has almost ceased to be a tragedy and has become a purposeless biological process.... I feel if anything can be saved, it will be saved here.
He needed to return to England and take stock; and so, meeting up with Bacon and with Slonimsky in New York to say their farewells and spending a final week at the Doubledays' home on Long Island, he and Patmore set sail in the SS Berengaria on 11 October. They would spend the winter at the Cavendish Hotel on Jermyn Street.
By early April 1936 they were off again – to Portugal and Spain in the company of the Glovers. It was an act of friendship and proved a trial since age, sickness and failure had made Glover querulous and intolerant. Patmore told Derek that the Glovers were 'all right with Richard', but 'awfully disgruntled with other people'. They landed at Lisbon and drove to Cadiz, Seville and Cordoba and thence up through Salamanca to Santiago. Because of Glover's poor health progress had to be slow, but they saw sufficient signs of military activity to make them cross over into France by late May, although Aldington had told Raymond from Cordoba: 'The papers tell us of "frightful disturbances" but nothing of the sort has come our way and everything seems exactly as usual.' In Life for Life's Sake he expresses little sympathy for either side of the conflict, remarking that he was surprised that the Republic lasted as long as it did, for: 'while its intentions were of the worthiest, it was incompetent and lacked real authority.' That this assessment was made in 1941 makes it even more surprising that, unlike many of his fellow writers, he did not see the Spanish Civil War as part of the wider struggle between communism and fascism, or the Nationalist forces in Spain as the kind of threat that he had seen Mussolini posing to his beloved Italy.
Crossing France and Switzerland, the party made for Feldkirch in the Tyrol, the site of Aldington's accident two years earlier, an area he and Patmore had come to love during his two months' convalescence. Here and at Fernpass, further east, they were 4,000 feet up in the mountains where the clear air was restorative for Glover and Aldington had peace to work on his fifth novel, Very Heaven. They spent two and a half months there, leaving Austria on 7 September for one of Aldington's marathon drives: through Switzerland and Alsace and up to Boulogne by way of Compiègne and Amiens. Leaving the Glovers at Boulogne (entrusted with the manuscript of Aldington's novel for Chatto), he and Patmore travelled down through France on a five-day journey to Le Lavandou. Aldington wrote to his young friend Eric Warman that he still thought France 'the most beautiful and varied country in Europe, and far superior to America'. They arrived in Le Lavandou on 18 September.
Aldington had told Parsons at Chatto that their visit to the Riviera was necessary because 'Br feels she would like a dip in the Middle Sea after so much mountain air'. In the light of later events it seems probable that she wanted them to have time alone together in surroundings they loved. They would not have long: a telegram from Malcolm Johnson at Doubleday informed Aldington that Very Heaven was, in the publisher's opinion, 'a major work of English letters' and that he and Doubleday would be in London on 1 October.
On that day, Aldington and Patmore crossed the Channel, returning to the Cavendish Hotel in Jermyn Street, their most recent London base. In eight years they had covered three continents and ten countries, but never had a permanent home.
### 7. The Public Face Reviewer, Philosopher and Essayist
'I am pleased to announce that, beginning from next week, Mr Richard Aldington, the distinguished poet, novelist and critic, will contribute a weekly critical causerie on contemporary literature to the Sunday Referee,' Hayter Preston wrote in the Sunday Referee on 17 November 1929. Aldington would be literary critic on the Referee for two periods in the early 1930s, initially at a salary of £400 a year, although Pinker would later negotiate this upwards. In a term totalling less than three years he wrote a total of 140 articles, an astonishing feat given his mostly itinerant life during this period (although there were occasions when books for reviewing failed to reach him and he had to improvise). The paper, whose masthead declared it 'The National Newspaper for Thinking Men and Women' and which had a circulation approaching 400,000, gave him the opportunity to speak to a bigger and broader middle-class audience than he had reached through the TLS, The Nation and Athenaeum or The Spectator.
His reviews were invariably good-humoured, reflective and informative, revealing a consistency of outlook, both about writers – that good ones possess depth of feeling, intellectual rigour and a mastery of form – and about the purpose of reviewing:
[T]he task of the Reviewer is... simply to give an honest opinion on new books, to recommend those one has read with pleasure or instruction, to ignore or warn against those which seem dull or pretentious or footling, and when necessary to prick the bladder of some inflated reputation or stunt publication.
His enthusiasms and aversions are completely explicable within these frameworks. Lewis was admirable, but flawed by his distrust of all feelings and emotions, 'an amazing example of the power and limitations of pure intelligence'. Eliot was a great poet but 'concerns himself with ideas about life, but never life itself'. Ulysses was the most extraordinary masterpiece of creative literature since the turn of the century and Joyce had a greater 'power over words' than any other living writer, but his limitation was his despair. Shaw was not a great creative artist because he was 'almost wholly cerebral'. Huxley was praised for his 'positive belief in life', his sanity, shrewdness and tolerance, and his competent workmanship and 'expressive and personal' style. Other respected writers included William Faulkner and Osbert Sitwell, and also Virginia Woolf and Colette, of whom he wrote: 'Whatever else you may say against them, their books are written.'
Remy de Gourmont came in for the highest praise: 'His emancipation from every sort of educated or inherited prejudice was as nearly complete as we can expect from a fallible humanity. His exquisite sensibility was matched by an intellectual integrity just as exquisite.' The master, however, was Lawrence, whose work formed 'one of the most important and vital contributions to the imaginative literature of our time'. 'Have we anyone left,' Aldington asked, when reviewing Apocalypse, 'who can write with that effortless mastery, that passionate oneness of the thing felt with the thing said?' He also acknowledged the influence on him in his youth of those fading stars, George Moore and Norman Douglas: 'I don't say that either Moore or Douglas seems perfect, but it was inspiring to watch Moore's almost anguished struggle towards a standard of perfection he had set himself and to enjoy Douglas's cool Atticism with its tang of Scotch brutality.'
He started on the Referee at the height of the 'war-books boom' and brought to his reviews of those works all his own experience and empathy. In a column in which he is highly critical of all three of the texts under review, he suggests a 'rough working classification' of war books into six categories: 'Authentic and adequate personal records; ditto but inadequate; authentic personal experience used imaginatively and in the right tone; ditto mingled with bunk; war books by non-soldiers; complete bunk.' A.M. Burrage's War is War (a memoir barely remembered today) was 'an admirably vivid, if slapdash, record of the lives of hundreds of thousands of men between 1916 and 1918... the bitterness, the grimness, the desolation of what our lives were.' Helen Zenna Smith's Not So Quiet: Stepdaughters of War and C.E. Montague's short story 'Honour's Easy' were warmly recommended. A Farewell to Arms was 'a masterpiece of our time', while Blunden's Undertones of War was 'one of the most genteel and urbane of War books', marked by 'deep feeling and sincerity'. Amongst German texts, Changed Men by Paul Alverdes was:
one of the saddest books I have ever read, sad with a kind of tender realism... a sense of the grandeur of common men overwhelmed by destruction... a lesson in humility for us all – that in all the essential moments of life quality of feeling is what matters, and that so-called common men possess it, even when in other respects they seem stupid.
The highest praise was awarded to Remarque's The Road Back: 'A dumb confused misery is here made articulate, the suffering and courage of men who fought two great wars – the War on the Western Front and the War back from death to life.' In contrast, he wrote of Ernst Junger's Copse 125:
It would be interesting to know... what frustration, what impotence, what pathology bring a man to praise murder, individual or collective, as the highest manifestation of human energy and vitality.... I see many death-worshippers in the world, but Herr Junger is certainly an almost unrivalled fanatic in the idolatry of destruction.
There were plenty in the stream flowing off the presses for Aldington to condemn and he was horrified by what he deemed militarist texts, such as Alfred Pollard's Fire-Eater and Frank Crozier's Five Years Hard. Perhaps the finest review he wrote of a 'war book' was that of Blunden's 1931 edition of the poems of Wilfred Owen. Reading the poems also moved him to write a poem of his own, 'In Memory of Wilfred Owen'.
He reviewed very little poetry, his audience being in general the novel-reading public. With our own mythologised view of the output of the thirties, we might be surprised to find no references to what Samuel Hynes refers to as 'the Auden Generation', and, indeed, this may have been a deliberate omission. Where poetry is discussed, Yeats is 'the living poet par excellence'; while this evaluation was genuinely rooted in Aldington's admiration for the imaginative power of Yeats's writing, it was also the necessary corollary of his debunking of the other two giants of the age, Eliot and Pound. A variety of poets who were (or had been) personal friends were boosted: Barney, Cunard, Aragon, Lowenfels, MacGreevy and Beckett.
His aversion to university elitism, which had emerged in the early days of The Criterion and which stemmed both from his abhorrence of pretentiousness and from his sensitivity about his own education, remained strong. The appearance of Cambridge University Studies edited by Harold Wright, with its essay by F.L. Lucas on the teaching of English literature and in particular the critical theories of I.A. Richards, afforded him the opportunity to remark on 'the delusion that a University is the nursery of literary genius and that it has a duty to set a standard of taste in contemporary imaginative literature'. The 'New Criticism' left him cold; he dismissed Empson's Seven Types of Ambiguity as self-indulgent, and commented with reference to the Leavises: 'I have found vastly more self-criticism and genuine reverence in the despised "popular novelist" and playwright than I was ever able to discover among those whose self-conscious superiority chiefly rested on the fact that they could produce neither novels or plays.' A review of William Rose's Men, Myths and Movements in German Literature allowed him both to pursue his programme and to pay a debt of gratitude:
Dr Rose belongs to almost the only category of 'critic' that I can now read without boredom – i.e. the man who has information to bestow, the man who is absolutely au courant with 'what is known' about a given subject and who has the sense to tell it simply, without affectation or pedantry. He is neither the aesthetic teacher nor the polite essayist, but the man who has a job of work to do and does it.
One of his sharpest attacks on a critic appeared in a review of Pound's How to Read:
I cannot get it out of my head that literature is something to be loved and lived, a part of my life, a part of experience without which I should be very poor indeed; and for Mr Pound it is something to be studied and learned, like biology and book-keeping, something which can be taught.
He could not resist an additional attack on Pound as a poet: '[H]is use of words whether in prose or verse [is] so allusive and personal as to become a kind of crotchety shorthand.'
In view of his later emergence as a biographer, Aldington's views on that genre are of interest. He found Catherine Carswell's The Life of Robert Burns 'the most sensible, sympathetic and impartial view of Burns yet published'. It possessed the qualities he looked for in a biography:
a thorough knowledge of the subject without pedantry or hair-splitting; a sympathy with the poet, which is neither mawkish nor patronising; an understanding that a biography is the exposition of a human character, not a commentary on a set of books interspersed with anecdotes; a knowledge of human life beyond that afforded by reading books; and a lively style, which equally avoids dullness and facetiousness.
Edwin Muir's John Knox and Edward Hallett Carr's Dostoevsky were also admired. Of the former he noted: 'He lets the man reveal himself and damns him with his own words [while] Mr Muir's careful understatements and cool ironies (the last perhaps a trifle overdone) complete the picture.' Another illuminating review (that compliments a friend of former days who would always retain her sympathy for Aldington) is that of Rebecca West's St Augustine: 'very well written and almost entirely free from the various brands of affectation which have nearly destroyed the art of biography, which does not consist of being facetious at the expense of one's subjects, but in presenting a human character.'
Quitting the job in April 1932 in order to be free to concentrate on the writing of All Men Are Enemies, he tried to get back on the paper on his return to London that December, but his place had been taken by Huxley and it was April of 1933 before he was taken on again. That month he also began a series of fortnightly articles on the English poets for Everyman. By mid-July, partly because the sale of All Men Are Enemies to Fox had freed him from financial worry, he was itching to escape again from the demands of weekly reviewing, and the Referee agreed to cancel his six-month contract.
However, he did make a final appearance in 1934, writing a non-literary column for several weeks on issues of the day. These articles show an impressive, if idiosyncratic, grasp of the contemporary economic and political problems. In the first article he suggested that these could be grouped under the headings of: machines, population and religion, with the additions of nationalism and political liberty. He proceeded over the following weeks to deal with each of these. What comes across most of all is a passionate concern for the environment along with an awareness of its increasing destruction – from the threat posed by the burning of coal and petrol to the desertification of habitats across the Mediterranean region. Unlimited population growth was another of his concerns: it could not, he said, fail to lead to wars, and he pointed to the problems of heavily populated countries like Italy and Germany, which lacked colonial space, and Japan, with its lack of natural resources. As a libertarian, he acknowledged the dilemma that most of these modern ills could only be addressed by supranational regulation.
That same year his fourth novel, Women Must Work, appeared. Covering a similar period to his last, 1900 to 1928, it follows the attempts of a young woman to make a success of her life on her own terms. Unlike Georgie Smithers in The Colonel's Daughter, Etta Morrison is attractive, intelligent and ambitious. She tells her uncomprehending parents:
I want to live for a time quite by myself, very simply, and think things out. I should like to shape my own life as far as a person can in this world, without having it all moulded for me. I don't want to spend my days sitting back and saying 'Hurray!' to everything my men relatives think, say and do. I don't want to be just a dependent on Daddy and Teddy. If I marry a man, I want to marry him as an equal, not a parasite. I want to respect myself. And I want to find out other girls and women who think and feel as... I do.
Rejecting the drab town of Dortborough (modelled on the Dover of Aldington's childhood), Etta heads for London, where she first experiences poverty and humiliation working as a clerk in a business that she leaves when she becomes a victim of sexual harassment. Over the next few years, most of which are the wartime years, we see Etta become increasingly hardened. The process begins early on when a kind and wealthy suffragist takes her under her wing:
Without perceiving it, [Etta] had become a little ruthless, more than a little calculating and wary. She thought her eagerness to please Ada Lawson came from gratitude and devotion; and so it did, but there was a grain of calculation – Etta wanted so much not to be sent away, and what better means of avoiding it than making herself indispensible? Long before, she had determined to meet people and be friendly with them; but now she selected, unconsciously trying to please those who might be useful to her.
By the end of the novel, now a successful businesswoman and a mother, she realises: 'I had to use so much energy merely getting free and then merely keeping alive when I had broken away that I've never had time to develop.'
As always, Aldington's twin targets are middle-class, conformist moral values and materialism. Etta's desire to challenge the first is frustrated, by men, by society, by chance and by her own naivety, and she takes refuge in the second. Anthony Clarendon in All Men Are Enemies succeeds in his bid for emotional fulfilment (at least at the point at which the novel ends); that Etta Morison does not is an outcome of her gender: her primary need for self-preservation drives her into adopting the very patriarchal values against which she has rebelled. It is a much more subtle and realistic narrative than All Men Are Enemies; furthermore, it avoids both the sentimentality of that novel and the savagery of the satire in Death of a Hero or The Colonel's Daughter. Aldington also, for the most part, resists the temptation to intervene in the narrative with passages of exposition. The result is a serious but low-key narrative, in which the reader engages sympathetically, but not uncritically, with the main character. Aldington clearly found it easier to maintain a degree of detachment from his female protagonist than he had in the case of Anthony Clarendon, his alter ego.
The Sunday Referee was enthusiastic, Crickmay calling Aldington 'the most powerful contemporary novelist in reaction against the folly, disorder and squalor of modern life'. Other reviews were more measured. David Murray in the TLS was pleased to find 'a good deal less of the fierce indignation, and a good deal more of the pity and sympathy' than in previous books, and observed of the heroine that, 'Whether it was her own weakness or the strength of the forces she was fighting that beat her down, Mr Aldington leaves us to conclude; but he has made her too real and too brave a woman for us to despise her whatever our verdict.' The Times reviewer also approved of the portrayal of Etta ('too vital and charming for the end to seem irreparably tragic') but in the Sunday press Straus and Gerald Gould were more critical, remarking that the novel lacked the qualities of some of Aldington's earlier work, although acknowledging its skill.
Aldington's fourth long poem, Life Quest, was written in Austria and in London in 1934 when he was recuperating from his two knee operations, although the settings of the first few sections (El Escorial, Guadarrama, Santillana del Mar, Irun, Roncesvalles, Biarritz) suggest that they may have been composed in the latter stages of his tour of Spain and western France earlier that year. The 500-line poem consists of 20 free-verse lyrics, ranging in length from nine to 62 lines, the most effective of them around thirteen to 20 lines long, loosely organised into irregular four- or five-line stanzas. Most of them could stand alone but together they constitute the development of ideas on the characteristically Aldingtonian themes of ubi sunt and carpe diem. It is the philosophy, rather than a narrative (as in A Dream in the Luxembourg or A Fool i' the Forest) or a legend (as in The Eaten Heart) that gives the poem its structure and direction. Nevertheless, Aldington warned in an 'Author's Note' to the first edition that the poem was neither a narrative nor the exposition of a philosophy, but 'a loose string of moods and meditations, variations on the theme of the "Life Quest"'. He referred his readers to a section in Human History by the Egyptologist Sir Grafton Elliot Smith for 'the historical description of the life quest'. A glance at those pages suggests that Smith's contribution to Aldington's thinking was little more than the concept of the 'life quest' – the search of human beings throughout history to safeguard – and prolong – their lives, a striving seen as the source of all religions and the impulse for all art forms.
The first thirteen sections develop the notions of the mortality of the soul and the vanity of human religion. Thereafter the poet turns his attention to the twin themes of the need to live for the moment:
Kiss her now
Kiss her now
Kiss her now, Sweet Life.
Says the wild thrush
To the sleet
From the hawthorn bush.
(Section 14)
and humanity's destruction of its culture and environment:
But men and women
Before it is too late
Will you not draw back from greed and destruction
Ere the earth becomes a cruel desert
And the sea a sterile pollution
And the sun black with anger against you.
(Section 20)
The voice is consistently authorial and the reader directly addressed. The passages of exposition are generally the least successful parts of the poem. Sometimes the voice is hectoring, as in the above example; occasionally, it employs a slightly heavy-handed satire:
Let's hitch our wagon to a spiral nebula
And live for ever backwards
Faster than light –
Oh to unsmoke that mathematical cigar!
(Section 8)
At other times, however, the idea is expressed with taut eloquence:
The ship of the Dead has never come to port,
It never started.
(Section 7)
In the finest of the lyrics, Aldington's passion for place and history work with his sensuousness and ear for rhythm to turn thought into poetry:
Tonight it will be very lonely
In the woods of Roncesvalles,
There will be a sighing in the damp branches
A cold smell from the leafy ground
In the blackness of pilgrim shadows.
Listen, listen until hearing dies
For the echo of the ivory horn,
Stare your eyes to stone
But you will not see...
(Section 1)
A few sections present us with almost surreal dream scenarios. In one, the poet envisages Tutankhamen's Ka awaking, 'blinking new baby eyes in the muffled tomb', to face 'thirty centuries of knowing death is death', eventually to find 'sweet relief' when the tomb is broken into, bringing 'the cool killing air' and 'he knew he could die at last'. In another, Aldington recalls a moment during his stay at Brantôme in 1932 when writing All Men Are Enemies, when he saw a dead snake lying in the river:
... softly swaying in the water
On its back with its dead white belly
Turned under water to the sun
(Section 16)
The experience, he tells us, 'was both more and less than thought', the body of the snake becoming first the body of a dead English soldier on the fire-step of a trench, then the body of a young German officer. Finally:
I saw the rag-clothed skeletons of Loos
I saw my own body lying white and helpless
Belly turned to the sun.
This is the manifestation in dream form of his experience on Hill 70 in 1918, fictionalised in Death of a Hero. However, he tells us, 'I was not afraid, it was a great peace', as he saw 'that which was the snake/And myself and those others':
Softly dissolve and drift with the stream
Down to the Dordogne
Down to the Gironde
Down to the great rollers of the sea,
And return as rain or cloud or air
But never again as a crisp-gliding snake
Rustling its way over dry grasses,
Never again as a human soul
Avid for much living...
This is immortality as Thomas Hardy understood it. In fact, the poem resonates with echoes of the poets Aldington loved, Browning especially, in particular, A Toccata of Galuppi's:
Tonight they will dance till dawn at Biarritz
And the milors will see their fun is clean
Dancing among the gold-topped bottles
Euro-African and clean
Between the futile mountains and the silly sea.
These are the Koh-i-noor
The diamond point of living light
Cresting the shadowy pyramid of the dead.
The third 'dream sequence' is the most grotesque. The poet is on the top of a mountain, when:
An enormous ghost comes creeping,
Lifting a flat head on a sinuous neck,
Peering above the highest peaks, and after
Slowly pulls its huge and misty bulk.
This 'mist ghost' 'swallows up the valleys, crushes out/The tiny forests' and eventually encompasses the poet, who sits 'like Jonah in his whale', wondering:
Whether the gods love evil and ugliness
Or have no power or no goodwill to us,
Or whether Herakleitos saw the truth –
That strife is harmony and everything
Lives through its opposite.
In the final section of the poem, however, the poet is once more on the top of 'the last mountains of Europe' and is transported into a dream-like experience in which he finds that his 'deathless body' is 'accepted by Earth Sun and Sea' and he knows that he is 'one of the remnant of life-seekers'.
The poem employs a style very like the one Eliot had begun to favour, alternating passages of exposition with lyrical passages. 'Burnt Norton' (which also references Heraclitus) would not appear for another year, but stylistic resemblances between the two poems are marked. The London section of Aldington's poem also recalls 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' and 'Preludes':
Sharp-lined and glinting
The traffic clots go curdling
Through the dark veins of the town
In sharp mechanic spasms
Like the fierce bleeding of a great machine.
Breaking the rhythm of our blood
Until the soft swirl and lapse of Thames
Alone seem unreal
...
Even in winter
There are lovely dawns
Over the gutters and the chimney pots
To break my heart.
...
Grim monstrous lotus of the dirty Thames...
(Section 15)
Even more precisely:
In the south in winter
When the sun hangs too low in the hard sky
And the night wind remembers the frozen snow,
The yellow soil crumbles and breaks
As the thin bright iris petals push through
(Section 13)
evokes the opening of The Waste Land; but perhaps by the 1930s the Eliot landscape was inescapable.
The most important influence was Lawrence. Aldington had edited Apocalypse and Last Poems in Florence in the winter of 1931/32 and admired both. A favourite passage from Apocalypse reads:
[T]he magnificent here and now of life in the flesh is ours, and ours only for a time. We ought to dance with rapture that we should be alive and in the flesh, and part of the living incarnate cosmos. I am part of the sun as my eye is part of me. That I am part of the earth my feet know perfectly, and my blood is part of the sea.
Lawrence wrote in his 'New Mexico' essay that in the old native-American religion 'the whole life-effort of man was to get his life into direct contact with the elemental life of the cosmos, mountain-life, cloudlife, thunder-life, air-life, earth-life, sun-life. To come into the immediate felt contact, and so derive energy, power, and a dark sort of joy.' This 'effort into sheer naked contact, without an intermediary or mediator' was, he maintained, the root meaning of religion. Furthermore, he was convinced that humankind would eventually return to this concept of life. This pagan notion is the message of Aldington's poem:
In a touch beyond prayer I ask
That my life quest go on till I die,
Oh, let the Sun still be mine
And the undying Sea
And the Holy Earth!
(Section 20)
He had to defend his poem to his Catholic friend MacGreevy:
The answer to your 'Et Après?' is that there is no Après. If we do not live here and now, we never live – that is the theme of the poem. It also postulates that all revealed religion, all abstract metaphysical gods, all religion based on the assumption of an after-life in which conscious personality persists – all these are false, and divert energy from the true human task of making the good life.
He acknowledged, however, that: 'If a poem, whatever its views or attitude, doesn't please as a poem, then it's a failure.'
The poem was not exactly a publishing failure, but it caused few ripples, much to his disappointment. In The Spectator Michael Roberts grouped it with new works by W.H. Davies, Alan Pryce-Jones, G. Rostrevor Hamilton and Mark van Doren, and commented of all of them: 'It is not merely that they contain no striking metaphor that reaches beyond the immediate occasion and extends the bounds of language, nor is it that their feelings are commonplace. It is rather that their diction and their rhythms seem not adequate to the occasion.'
Once he reached Tobago in the spring of 1935 Aldington turned his hand to a collection of essays, modestly sub-titled 'Sketches and Ideas'. This was a natural development from the Referee articles of the previous year, an outcome of the reading and reflection that had led to Life Quest and a relaxed activity to accompany the compilation of his anthology of Lawrence's prose (chiefly the fiction), The Spirit of Place. More significantly, it was a distraction from his temporary inability to write another novel. He had begun one in London over the winter but was dissatisfied and scrapped it. Of the eighteen essays that make up Artifex (the title being that of the opening essay), many are indeed 'sketches', of varying length, mostly light-hearted in tone and anecdotal in origin, while two more substantial essays display his aptitude for travel writing. An essay on Lawrence was written for Heinemann to issue alongside their new edition, Frere having recently acquired the publishing rights for Lawrence from Martin Secker, as Aldington had always hoped he would. An essay on the early nineteenth-century naturalist, explorer and conservationist Charles Waterton had already appeared twice: in the TLS in December 1932 and as a Heinemann pamphlet in 1934. Aldington was not done with either of these two subjects, on whom he would attempt full-length biographies at the end of the 1940s. His admiration for Lawrence we already know; Waterton was an attraction for his eccentricity and for his passionate concern for the environment.
In the title essay and a handful of others Aldington sets out his ideas about contemporary society. Artifex is the artist, 'servant of the life impulse, maker of myths, music and images' who '[h]as turned the world of things and of human beings from a mere environment noticed only for the immediate purposes of existence into a deeply significant and glorious pageant to be enjoyed and revered'. He is set against the theologian, the scientist and the businessman who have exercised power over human beings and allied themselves with the militarists and those who exploit the earth. Aldington also finds an opportunity to attack modernism, which he describes as 'the art of hyperaesthesia, the art of exasperated neurasthenics... [t]he music of atonality, the painting and sculpture of super-realism, the literature of the stream of consciousness, the aestheticism of concrete and cocktails': 'The sensationalism of the art mob is the snobbish brother of the newspaper mob's sensationalism,' he maintains. 'Over-production for a public of snobs results not only in perversities to attract attention, but in the vices of intrigue, back-scratching and malignant disparagement of rivals.'
In 'A Splinter of America' he suggests a way forward for society, involving 'a more modest conception of man's place in nature, and abhorrence of every kind of greed and destruction.' However, he rejects the role of prophet and saviour: 'The most one can do is to follow one's own daimon as far as the swarming masses and their perplexed officials will allow one.' 'Purpose in Life' enables him to review some of the ideologies by which human beings have made sense of their lives (including nationalism and 'the dictatorship of the proletariat') and to conclude: 'There is no "purpose" in life. It is an end in itself.' In 'Freedom of the Press' he argues that society is based on 'the suppression of the vital impulse along with the sexual impulse and the natural (not revealed) religious impulse... for the benefit of commerce, war and social organisation'. In 'A Letter to a Young Man' he preaches the gospel against nationalism and militarism, although he absolves the fighting man of responsibility for war: the modern soldier may be misguided but he exhibits 'the virtues of abnegation, self-control, subordination to a purpose believed to warrant sacrifice, devotion to friends, even sometimes pity to enemies'. 'I sometimes think,' he reflects, 'that war is so willingly accepted because it asks so much of men; and that peace is despised because it seems to ask so little.' Ultimately, he argues, as he did (reluctantly) in his Referee articles, that the only way forward is the 'experiment of world government'. 'Love your country, if you will, but love the world more,' he urges the young man. Similarly, in his discussion – in an essay entitled 'What Fools These Mortals Be' – of that other topic on which he had strong opinions, overpopulation, he opts for compulsory regulation. We might note these inconsistencies in Aldington the individualist and libertarian.
As the international scene grew more troubled and the prospect of war more certain, he would cling to his philosophy of life, inconsistent as it was in many respects. A year after the completion of Artifex he would write a letter to another young man, his friend Warman:
For us human beings Life is the supreme fact. Communism and Socialism are not facts, nor are they life; they are theories....
Moreover, the supreme objection to both Communism and its inevitable counter-force, Fascism, is that they entirely overlook the human element. The 'rightness' or 'wrongness' of any particular political economic social theory is a matter of opinion. But its working depends upon the kind of people we all are. True progress consists in the substitution of co-operation for hostility, knowledge for ignorance, reason for prejudice, justice for tyranny, richness and variety of life for penury and power. And so long as they remain cruel, bigoted, vain, dishonest and intolerant, so long will they pursue power by any means and abuse power when they have it. The problem of right human organisation is an immense one. And it is merely confused by over-simplifying the issues, by imagining that it can be solved by such puerilities as Nordic blondism or collective ownership of property. The psychological problem still remains.52
### 8. The Private Life Leading a Double Life 1930-1936
The life Aldington and Patmore shared in the 1930s seems from the outside to have been idyllic. MacGreevy and Prentice felt great affection for Patmore, an affection she returned. When she visited London from Florence in February 1931 Prentice told Aldington: 'Brigit brightened a gloomy yesterday. She was not only looking marvellously sweet and well, she brought lots of news of you and Tom and the two Florentine members.' The following year, when the couple departed for Portugal, he wrote:
Dearest Richard... How glad I am you are out of this bumphy stupid place & living the life you want, provided, like a 40-mph testudo, with your own travelling house, and Brigit with you, Brigit without whom it would all else be just a journey! You are both very dear to me & I shout with lusty joy that you are both so happy.
MacGreevy expressed his affection for Patmore by dedicating his monograph on Aldington to her.
In Florence in 1931 and 1932 the couple spent most of their time in the company of Orioli and Douglas, who seem to have appreciated Patmore's warmth and intelligence. They enjoyed a full social life in both Italy and France, which, nevertheless, accommodated Aldington's need to work. While attempting to turn her own hand to a novel and some travel writing (neither of which was completed), Patmore was a discerning critic of his work and the first person to whom he would turn for an opinion.
In the early stages of their itinerant life, she twice returned alone to London, to the apartment she and Derek still rented in Millman Street, in order to see her sons and to maintain her link with the social world she had occupied as a single woman since her separation from her husband in 1925. She made the first of these journeys on 11 March 1930, after their return to Paris from North Africa, for a separation of three weeks, with Aldington crossing to London on 3 April. The following year she left Florence in February for another three-week trip to London.
Those two periods of separation give us a glimpse into the relationship, since they corresponded daily and Patmore retained all Aldington's letters. The affair had not lost any of the intensity of its early days. From Paris in March 1930 he wrote to ask her to marry him: 'We are really married, Soukie dear. I mean that we love as lovers who want to spend the rest of their lives together. Don't you feel we ought to be married?' He told her that he would not divorce H.D. unless it was in order to marry Patmore; he did not want other women to pursue him. 'Soukie dear,' the letter continues:
I have been sort of crazy without you. I didn't know that a woman could mean all life, as you mean to me... I often think that I really live positively only for you. You are my life and my happiness, my beauty and my desire. And that is happiness – to love more and more the person who loves you.
Patmore's only reservation about marriage seems to have been the disparity in their ages, as he wrote back to her: 'As to age – first, the War blokes like me and Tom and Frere, are pretty "battered" to start with; then, a man gets old sexually much sooner than a woman.' It seems, however, that Deighton Patmore refused to divorce his wife, so the plan came to nothing.
The letters from Florence the following February show the same degree of ardour: 'I feel about ¾ dead without you and wonder how I lived before there was the perfect life of Brigit. My own beauty and adored one!' He also used this separation as an opportunity for a particular project: he asked Patmore to set about recording her sexual history for him:
I see why you feel difficulty in putting down your erotic experiences. I did mine because it seems to free me more completely for you, but I dissociated them completely from emotion.... Maybe that is not possible for you but do it if you can, for it does free one to look back at everything as a sort of learning – not to love, though perhaps that too – but to fuck.'
The request, two years into their relationship, suggests a need on his part to bring some novelty into their affair. His own account amounted to 12,000 words.
It seems that Patmore gradually came to feel more secure in the relationship and able to let go of her independent life in London. Their only other documented separation was for the week Aldington spent completing All Men Are Enemies in Brantôme in September 1932. Patmore preceded him to London and he corresponded with her daily, but only, for the most part, by way of brief postcards: 'Do please forgive the scrappy cold notes,' he wrote in one of the few letters he sent:
but this is the most concentrated, the most intense piece of writing I've ever done.... [I]t was right for me to be alone at the end, because it needs the peculiar hallucinatory quality of solitude.... Dear dear love, don't, don't feel hurt that I'm somewhere else these few days. It won't be the begetter of Tony and Katha who arrives in London.
That Patmore had no need of more frequent visits to see her sons was chiefly because both Derek and Michael spent quite long periods over the summers of 1930, 1931 and 1933 at the Riviera villas, while Derek also made a visit to Florence in the early summer of 1932. These visits do not appear to have gone entirely smoothly. A letter from Patmore to MacGreevy in November 1930 hints that there had been conflict between Derek and Frere:
Derek says Frere asked him to lunch & was very charming. He says, and I agree, that it would be stupid to have complications. I have sometimes wanted to get up and murder Frere – but I am a fierce & wicked woman – I never say anything about it & it must just wear out of me.... Dear Provence, I do hope it won't have too sad memories for Derek. No, I know his temperament, it's very sweet & sound – he's all right.
Something had clearly gone wrong in that otherwise beautiful summer of 1930.
We get hints of the discord again, when in the spring of 1931 Aldington writes to Derek about the coming summer: 'If you will forgive my saying so, I think it will be much nicer if you can arrange to come with Mickey and not when Frere is there. I think Frere is fond of you but also rather jealous.' That Frere should be jealous of the attention accorded to Derek by Aldington and Patmore seems unlikely. That the problem was serious is clear from a letter Aldington wrote to MacGreevy at around the same time, in which he begs the latter to visit that summer, because if he and Aldington and Patmore are all working, it will be an excuse for asking other visitors to stay elsewhere: 'Pino and Norman say they prefer to stay in a pub, and we can park Frere and Charles out likewise.' He continues: 'I don't want a repeat of last year – I mean in way [sic] things got entangled through having the wrong people.' That he was not entirely able to prevent 'a repeat' of the previous year is evident from a letter MacGreevy wrote to Prentice that July:
Frere arrived to schedule on Saturday [25 July] and all is pretty well. Things looked bad on Monday night. Mickey was too obviously [illegible word] and I got enough abuse for us all as I took Frere home. But fortunately Mickey decided himself that it was intolerable so went off yesterday morning for a few days and as Richard is slightly off-colour – nothing that you need be alarmed about – the [illegible word] is being considerate all round. And Brigit has behaved beautifully. Frere leaves for Lady Russell's on Monday. He's so lovely when he is a good boy that one would do a lot to spare him botheration.
It is a letter that raises more questions (not only because of the indecipherable words) than it answers but it seems that it was not just Derek, but also Michael, who was a provocation to Frere.
In 1933 the situation was still stressful. Aldington had rented Villa Devos jointly with Frere. 'Consequently,' he explained to Derek that June:
I am not master of it as I was at Koechlin [in 1931]. However, Frere will certainly be in London in July, and we should be happy to see you. The only snag is that Pat may stay on (you won't mind that – she's very nice) and Frere and Charles may come for a few days in August, for Frere and Pat to be married here. (For God's sake don't mention this to anyone, since the divorce isn't through yet.) If the place were entirely mine I should naturally arrange for Frere not to be here when you are. But since it isn't, and since he obviously has a right to come to a place for which he has paid, I think the only way is for you and Mickey to go off for a few days if he should happen to come while you're here. I don't believe he will, but he might, and it's best to be prepared. In any case, it would only be for three or four days, since he is having his holiday now, and can't have another long one. Moreover, the Doubledays will be in London all July. So the earlier you can come in July the better.
Whatever the reason for Frere's objections to the Patmore boys, and Derek in particular, those objections would become a permanent cause of distrust and hostility between Frere and Patmore, devoted as she was to her sons. Aldington's own devotion to Patmore and his genuine liking for Derek seem to have kept in check his accustomed antipathy towards homosexual men (an antipathy that Frere may well have shared), but he wrote to MacGreevy in February of 1931:
Pino says 'Derek is getting a very bad name' in London, and that if he goes on something serious may happen. It is worrying. I can't talk to Brigit about it, because she simply will not hear of anything against Derek; and, in a way, she is to blame for having let him do exactly what he likes and always giving way to him. Pino wants me to warn Derek, but I've already dropped him the very broadest hints. I don't know what Brigit would do if it ever came to an open scandal. Be careful what you say to Brigit about it, and for God's sake don't mention Pino, or she'll take a scunner against him, as she did with Frere. I wish I could talk it over with you, and try to find if anything can be done. I feel in my bones that England is getting ripe for a thundering scandal, which will involve nearly all these silly young blighters. Why the hell can't they keep quiet?
Derek seems to have been unaware of the extent of Aldington's anxieties. At the Villa Devos in the summer of 1933 the two of them worked companionably together on turning Aldington's Cunard story, 'Now Lies She There', into a play entitled Life of a Lady. In his introduction to his mother's memoirs (and in his own), Derek spoke of Aldington with affection: 'I found in him the father figure which I had sought in vain in my own father.'
Aldington and Patmore also spent increasing periods of time in London. Spending a fortnight there in April 1930 in order to have meetings with Pinker, Aldington made use of Garland's Hotel in Suffolk Street and for his month's visit in 1931 stayed in Frere's flat in St Martin's Lane, but thereafter he and Patmore rented apartments together. They had come to feel less socially vulnerable as a couple; and Patmore no longer had her flat in Millman Street. Derek's increased prosperity in his post as public relations director for an advertising firm enabled him in 1933 to purchase a lease on an apartment of his own in St James's Square. Patmore and Aldington found inexpensive rented flats, always in the Mayfair area, close to the London Library and to Derek's apartment: at 60 Brook Street for Aldington's month of recuperation after his post-All Men Are Enemies breakdown in 1932; at 4 Palace Chambers in St James's Street for their three-month stay over the winter of 1932/33; at Carlton Court in Pall Mall Place from December 1933 until April 1934; and at Georgian House, Bury Street, from October 1934 until they left for Tobago in early February 1935. When they returned from America in October 1935 they went into a hotel – the Cavendish at 81 Jermyn Street (run by the renowned Rosa Lewis); they left for their travels with the Glovers in early April 1936 but were back at the Cavendish at the beginning of October.
Often these were enforced stays: in December 1932, for example, Aldington made his precipitate journey from Portugal to battle with Chatto over the cuts to All Men Are Enemies and then felt that he must stay to see the novel through to publication. He told Church:
I am only waiting until a few things are settled here, to start south [i.e. to the Riviera], find a cottage, and get down to it. I wish I could do serious work in London but I can't. I'm so used to country ways and quiet skies, that all these telephone and postal deliveries and people calling and newspaper placards distract me.
He made much the same complaint to Raymond in December 1934 prior to his departure for Tobago.
Patmore, who enjoyed seeing both her friends and her sons, felt rather differently. In July 1931 MacGreevy, confiding to Prentice that Aldington was contemplating going to London when he left the Villa Koechlin, warned, 'Only not a word. I think it would be splendid for him, only he mustn't feel we are pushing him', and added, 'Brigit would love it.' In the event, Aldington spent only a month in London that year, staying with Frere and making trips to visit bookshops in Peterborough, Middlesbrough, Leeds and Sheffield to promote The Colonel's Daughter. A letter he wrote to MacGreevy at the end of his stay shows that, while he relished his friendships, he had found the political climate abhorrent:
As always, Charles [Prentice] was perfect, & it was a great treat to be able to drop in on him nearly every day.... Frere was very nice this time and talked more intelligently about the state of England than anyone except Charles and possibly [Sydney] Schiff. The Labour people I saw were good-hearted boobies. The Tories are simply fat-heads and crooks. There is a wave of sentimental 'patriotism' in England. Coward's Cavalcade is most shrewdly on the mood of the moment, and the satirical intent is lost in the audience's sentimentalism.
Another cause of tension between Aldington and Patmore was his renewed relationship with H.D. The two had not met since the two occasions in Paris in 1929 but Aldington had written to her at the time: 'I want to say, dear Dooley: "Let's make a pledge that whatever happens you & I will never get out of touch again." Do you agree? You're so rare & beautiful, and it's made me so happy to be friends again', and in a later letter: 'Please don't let anything separate us.' On her part, she had told several correspondents how important to her their reconciliation was. 'I have the greatest feeling of joy and tenderness in Richard though any serious renewal of an "alliance" other than delightfully superficial and intellectually very poignant is out of the question,' she had written to Glenn Hughes; and she told George Plank that their meetings had all been in the company of others because, 'I was afraid of too much intimacy & he was altogether charming and dear.' In particular, she had been touched by the way he remembered their shared past, the memories 'perfectly fresh and untouched, the minutest details startlingly preserved, and fresh and fragrant with none of the intervening dust'. 'We are very, very close to one another, intellectually and spiritually,' she told John Cournos.
A letter Aldington wrote at the beginning of 1930 reveals how intent he was on keeping those shared memories 'fresh and fragrant'; he told her that he had visited Capri (with Patmore – although he doesn't mention her) and called at the Pensione del Lauro, where he had 'thought very tenderly over old times'. A reference to Robert Browning in a letter the following year is not only made for the purposes of argument, but because Browning was a shared love and the Browning marriage a mutually understood icon of their own. A year later, he shared with her his response to Lawrence's Last Poems when he was editing them: 'I was glad, and I think you will be, to know that at the end it was the beautiful side of Lorenzo which found utterance again.' This was probably a less successful attempt at retrieving recollections of an idyllic past – he never grasped that H.D.'s memories of Lawrence were rather more problematic than his own.
He was keen to restore their working relationship, constantly suggesting publishing projects, and encouraging her to make contact with Prentice ('He is a fine Greek scholar and admires you tremendously'). Chatto published her poetry collection Red Roses for Bronze in 1931. He wanted her to do a Dolphin – perhaps Greek women poets – or to put together enough translations to make a companion volume to his own Medallions in Clay which Chatto were publishing in the Phoenix imprint. Perhaps she could do a complete Greek tragedy – Sophocles' Antigone or Electra? He also encouraged her, with equal lack of success, to move from her current American publisher, Houghton Mifflin, to Covici, Friede.
The early letters are also flirtatious. From Algeria in 1930 he asked her:
Darling, can't you come to Paris soon – in March or early April. I want to see you most awfully. Please do come, if you can. It would be so lovely to see you. I am being horribly successful, and will blow any amount to amuse you! There, isn't that a proposition?
From Tunisia he sent her a postcard picture of 'a Tunisian beauty' and commented: 'On second thoughts Tunis is no place for you! Those veils!' He was covertly sharing an understanding of her (and his) attraction to beautiful women; Caroline Zilboorg suggests that, 'H.D.'s sensitivity to women played a role in the erotic chemistry between her and Aldington from the earliest days of their courtship in 1912.'
Patmore felt threatened by this friendship (particularly since her own relationship with H.D. and Bryher had been frosty since around 1925). Aldington tried to reassure her: 'Our love delights me – I like the idea of us.... You mustn't ever worry about my being unfaithful to you!' The relationship between the two women, however, became more, rather than less, frigid, perhaps aggravated by Patmore's awareness of H.D.'s closeness to Stephen Haden-Guest, Patmore's former lover. At first both women made an effort at friendship. In May 1930, writing to thank H.D. for flowers she had sent, Patmore asked: 'Aren't you coming to Paris at all?' By July, however, she had begun to suspect H.D. and Bryher (probably not without cause) of spreading rumours about her, and she told H.D. 'The seeming reconciliation you arranged was not a real one... perhaps you have a certain undefined desire to persecute me – the things you have told people about me seem to point to it – but I thought that was over.' At the end of the year Aldington wrote to H.D.: 'I didn't give [Brigit] your messages, because I wasn't sure how she'd feel about it.... Perhaps the best thing would be for you to write to her – some time.... I feel so very sorry that things are not quite "right" between you two.'
An incident in February 1931 must have forced him to recognise that he could not sustain both relationships over the long term. On 6 February, two days after Patmore's departure from Florence to London, he wrote to tell MacGreevy of a 'minor fly in the ointment' – H.D. was coming to Florence: 'It would be awful if she came here before Brigit returns, and I can't very well go away.' On the same day he told Patmore that he had received a letter from H.D. indicating that there was 'no chance in 1,000' of her coming to Italy – although he clearly decided that this was too risky a strategy and told her six days later that he was 'menaced by a visit from H.D.', at the same time writing to tell H.D. how glad he was that she was coming – and suggesting that it might be 'easiest all round' if, to account for their shared surname, she pretended to be his sister-in-law! Meanwhile a flurry of letters and telegrams between Aldington, MacGreevy and Prentice aimed to get MacGreevy to Florence in time to act as chaperone. Aldington was forced to apologise to Patmore on 19 February for having even mentioned H.D.'s name, but the next day informed her that there was 'no news of the saphs [H.D. and Bryher]' and that, 'Tom will be here in 48 hours and he will be my chaperone.' Four days later he made arrangements to meet H.D. that evening, informing her that Patmore would not be back until the end of the week, but that he had a friend with him (MacGreevy had arrived two days earlier), 'a gentle and charming creature, an H.D. fan', who would much like to meet her.
Although the evening appears to have gone well, and H.D. was to be in Florence for a fortnight, to accompany Bryher in her meetings with Douglas and Orioli (Bryher would provide Douglas with financial support until his death in 1952), there were to be no further meetings. The chief reason for this was Patmore's return to Florence, only two days later; but Aldington explained to H.D. three weeks afterwards: 'I was sorry indeed not to see you again in Florence, but I did not want to embarrass you in any way; so I left it to you.'
He and Patmore kept away from Douglas and Orioli for much of that fortnight, feeling increasingly resentful. He told Derek Patmore:
Another smaller thing has made Brigit and me quite furious. Our little friends from Territet have been here nearly a fortnight with McFerson (as Orioli spells it) and have been seeing a lot of Norman, particularly McPherson. From something Norman let drop we now suspect that Norman is being cajoled into recommending our Charles to publish one of Mr McPh's unreadable masterpieces. I don't suppose Charles would be such a fool, but the promise of an introduction from Norman (which of course Bryher would pay for) might induce Charles to take it. I am going to warn Charles obliquely.... If they can get in touch with Charles, they'll do their best to down me there – not much hope for them
His suspicions would prove quite unfounded, but they are a startling manifestation of a paranoia which would flare up again from time to time – and, no doubt, in this instance it was stoked by Patmore. Bryher, of course, was a bête noire, but Aldington may also have felt jealous of MacPherson's intimacy with H.D.
Zilboorg describes the H.D./Aldington correspondence between 1930 and 1932 as 'characterised by gaps and clusters of exchange'. Aldington had written 32 letters to H.D. in 1929; there were only a further seventeen over the next two years. The gaps were probably attributable to H.D.'s preoccupations at the time: with the film work on which she, Bryher and MacPherson were engaged; with the move to the new Bauhaus home (named Kenwin) that Bryher and MacPherson had had built at Territet; and with her own deteriorating relationship with MacPherson. However, Aldington must have begun to recognise the limited possibilities for the growth of their friendship, and his letters, still expressing interest in her work and confiding about his own, become less intimate, the eager requests for meetings being replaced by wistful requests for her to write 'from time to time' or when she has 'a few minutes to spare'. Her failure to keep in touch led to her having to write to Prentice in November 1931 for a forwarding address: 'I have been wanting to write to them, one or both, but heard they had pulled up stakes and did not know exactly where they were.' It must still have taken her some time to get around to a letter, since it was 21 February 1932 when Aldington acknowledged it, telling her how glad he was to hear from her. He was discouraging about her suggestion of meeting in Venice in April, after her return from her forthcoming cruise to Greece with Perdita (a rare venture for H.D. out of her London-Switzerland cycle of the 1930s), explaining, rather unconvincingly, that he could not afford to drop the tenancy on his Florence apartment, which would run until May. He complimented her on Red Roses for Bronze, which had her 'own rare quality' and was glad to hear of its success in America adding, characteristically: 'In England at present they seem unable to see any poet but Eliot, and for my part they're welcome to him.' The only reference to their shared past is a suggestion that she try to meet up with Slonimsky (then travelling in Europe and the Middle East) in Athens: 'He is still a noble figure.' It was the last communication between them for five years.
In the early 1930s Aldington also entered into at least two secretive sexual relationships with younger women, mostly, but not entirely, conducted via correspondence. There may have been others, but the only sets of letters to have survived reveal two relationships, in particular, and they only contain Aldington's side of the correspondence. Both women first wrote fan letters: Eunice Black in response to having read both Death of a Hero and The Colonel's Daughter, and Marjorie Pollard as she embarked on All Men Are Enemies. Black was an expatriate South African living in London and 22 years old when she started to write to Aldington in the spring of 1932. Their correspondence ran until August 1933, after which time she returned to her family in South Africa, although there were a few letters exchanged between them in 1935 and 1936. Their relationship was consummated on Aldington's visits to London in 1932 and 1933. Pollard was older – 29 in 1933 when Aldington's seven letters to her were written; they never met.
Although we cannot access the women's side of the correspondence, it is clear from Aldington's replies that his steady move from risqué comments to explicitly erotic content was one they encouraged. Both women would initially have been attracted by publicity photographs of him, and their acquaintance with his novels would have led them to expect openness about sexual matters. Pollard consulted him about her love affairs and sent him some of the correspondence, as well as photographs of herself, in some of which she was naked. By his second letter, Aldington had begun to speak about love affairs and the need for lovers to recognise that affairs have beginnings, middles and ends, an indication of his own openness to sexual adventures. He also described how he had been pottering about the rocks 'with only a pair of slips on', clearly inviting voyeurism on her part. In response to her confidences about her sexual experiences, he gave her a detailed account of his own sexual history, although without mentioning the names of his partners: the clumsiness with which he had taken the virginity of H.D. and her ultimate choice of female sexual partners; and the fact that it was not until his fourth sexual affair (with Yorke) at the age of twenty-six that he 'achieved a really full physical satisfaction with a woman'. He asked her for more explicit details of her own experiences, including lesbian ones, about which he displayed particular curiosity. After six letters from the Villa Devos in the summer of 1933, his only remaining letter to her was a hastily handwritten one from Alicante towards the end of the year, suggesting a meeting in London. We must assume that this did not take place; Pollard, as Aldington knew, was engaged to be married and may well have thought a meeting with him a complication best avoided.
The correspondence with Black has many of the same features. By the second letter, the subject of naked bathing had surfaced – both his own and that of Tony and Katha (he was writing All Men Are Enemies), which he was sure would be censored. 'I believe people should live physically, enjoy their bodies and enjoy the bodies of others,' he declared. Black must have asked where love fitted into this philosophy of sensuality, because Aldington told her:
There are so many kinds of love... the difficulty lies in getting a just equilibrium between one's sensuality and feelings, and other passions... [T]here is a flowering of the senses which is useless and beautiful like poetry and should exist for its own sake.... What I am thinking of is a sort of tender sensuality.
The sexual subject matter became gradually more explicit, although he made sure that he was not leading his correspondent where she did not want to go: 'I will write freely if you say to, but then you must do the same,' he told her.
That autumn of 1932, when Aldington was hospitalised for his breakdown on arriving in London from Brantôme, he asked Black to visit him in the nursing home. She was only there for half an hour but either then or at a later meeting they became lovers. From Portugal in November he was shocked to hear that she suspected she was pregnant, although another letter followed to tell him that her fears had been unfounded. Nevertheless, he gave her the name of a doctor whom she should see 'to arrange things' should her sickness return. His letters in this period are tender and affectionate, but there is an undercurrent of unease, a concern that he has led her into expectations he cannot fulfil:
All you write is perfect and unselfish, but, my sweet, I tremble a little. I don't want to hurt you and make you unhappy. But then I try to tell myself that one has to be hurt by loving, and think the sweetness of it is worth all the pain. You only know the best of me. If only I could be sure that you won't suffer. Do believe that I shall always want to [sic] gentle and tender with you. I don't want to hurt you or make you unhappy...
and even: 'It would be awful if you felt I'd not been fair to you.'
Gradually, the letters settle into a more relaxed mood and more explicitly erotic content, although he continues to check Black's willingness to have these kinds of conversation: 'Shall I sometimes write you about sexual things and will you write me what you think and feel about them?' These discussions include the relaxed attitude of Portuguese peasants to infant sexuality: 'Though it is a Catholic country & outwardly very decorous, they haven't yet stopped the sexual play of the children which used to be so pretty in Italy until the Fascists prevented it.' He tells her of having once witnessed an Italian man fondling his two small daughters: 'And didn't they enjoy it and ask for more!'
This leads him into a detailed account of his own childhood sexual experiences, both with young girls and with older women. He told Black: 'Those young sensations are very keen & beautiful & should be allowed within sensible bounds,' and added: 'I believe that that is why I adore the female and have absolutely no sexual feeling about males, as too many Englishmen have.' An account of how he learned to masturbate is followed by his asking her whether she first masturbated spontaneously or was 'shown by another girl or boy'.
In late December (as a consequence of the battle with Chatto over the text of All Men Are Enemies) Aldington and Patmore were in London and he resumed the affair with Black, on one occasion making elaborate arrangements so that they could have a whole night in a hotel together (the Midland: 'large and anonymous'). A further opportunity for an assignation was the invitation to Aldington from the young Richard Rumbold to speak to the Oxford Literary Club on literature and censorship, with specific regard to Lawrence. Aldington drove to Oxford at the end of January, picked Black up from Oxford Railway Station after giving the lecture and drove to Stratford-upon-Avon for the rest of the weekend. A letter to Patmore to tell her that the lecture had gone well ends: 'All my love, darling one.'
There is a gap in the correspondence after Aldington's departure for the Riviera in March that year, the next letter being written on 15 August – a day on which he also wrote to Pollard, with whom he had been corresponding since his arrival at the Villa Devos. In the letter to Black he apologises for his long silence and blames the pressures of work. The letter is affectionate but brief and concludes: 'You are a darling, Eunice, and I love you very much. I send you many kisses and wish I had your cool body in my arms.' Black left England to join her parents in South Africa shortly afterwards, from where she resumed the correspondence two years later.
Black married the South African poet Vincent Swart in 1939, but they were divorced two years later and she subsequently remarried. Speaking of her affair with Aldington to David Wilkinson in 1982, she recalled:
[W]hen he arrived, you know, for me it was like Apollo descending – as you can imagine, you know, this famous author and all the rest of it you see. And then – we were always apart from each other. There was a long gap when Richard had gone to America... and I'd gone to South Africa when we didn't write at all.
In London in October 1932, Aldington gave her an introduction to Arlen (then staying at the Mayfair Hotel), thinking that he might have contacts which would help her find a job. (Gaumont Pictures had made her redundant.) In the interview with Wilkinson, Black recalled that Arlen, noticing how infatuated with Aldington she was, 'tried very gently and swiftly to put [her] off', explaining that Aldington's relationship with Patmore was 'forever'.
Aldington's preoccupation with the technicalities of physical sex, and particularly with childhood sex and sexuality, is displayed not only in his correspondence with Black and Pollard, but also in his novels, where George Winterbourne in Death of a Hero and Anthony Clarendon in All Men Are Enemies are given childhood sexual encounters similar to Aldington's own but presented in a much more idealised fashion. He told Black (now Gluckman) nearly 30 years later that it was only in adulthood that he began to retrieve memories of these encounters and to realise 'what an active sex-life [he] lived in those pre-puberty years'. He saw – or claimed to see – these experiences in a positive light, but his memories of his sexual initiation by a nurse and two older girl cousins over a period of several years, as related in detail in these later letters to Gluckman, strike the reader as accounts of child sexual abuse. 'From those experiences I am sure,' he told her, 'stem the lusts and satisfactions – and disappointments – of a lifetime.' It is difficult not to see them, rather, as a root cause of the imbalance in adulthood between his sensual and emotional instincts and even the failure of each of his long-term relationships. To quote the letter to Patmore mentioned earlier, this was a childhood spent 'learning – not to love – but to fuck'. That it was only in adulthood that he began to retrieve these memories is also an indication of the confusion, and even guilt, that he had experienced over much of his childhood. In both Death of a Hero and All Men Are Enemies, as well as in his correspondence with Gluckman, he attempted to deal with those memories in such a way as to normalise the experiences and cast them in a positive light.
A broader survey of his childhood suggests his family life, and particularly his relationship with his mother, as a further cause of these long-term difficulties. In particular, as has already been noted in the earlier volume of this biography, Aldington's mother seems to have practised a dubious sexual code, on the one hand aspiring to middle-class respectability, on the other entering into extramarital relationships, which, if not full-blown affairs, were satisfyingly risqué and served to humiliate Aldington's father. The portrait of George's mother in Death of a Hero conducting 'affairs with bounderish young men' seems to have been based on actuality, if we can trust Ursula Bloom's account of her visits to the family and if we take into account May Aldington's relationship with Vivian Watkins, who became her second husband. It is also slightly disturbing to read in Aldington's account of his sexual initiation by his nursemaid that his first sight of her naked body had not 'startled' him because he had seen his mother's on several occasions. The sensuality of his mother's nature, combined as it was with materialism, hypocrisy, and a sentimentality which is evident in her novels, was something Aldington grew up despising. However, as Dorothy Yorke discerned, when she told Walter and Lilian Lowenfels that 'Richard spent his life trying to get away from the mother in him and to attain the father in him', both the sensuality and the sentimentality were traits that he inherited.
The affairs with Pollard and Black were not the first since the beginning of Aldington's relationship with Patmore. As early as 1930 he had begun a secret affair with the novelist Irene Rathbone. Like Pollard and Black, Rathbone initially contacted him to express her admiration for his work – in this instance Death of a Hero and A Dream in the Luxembourg. He read the manuscript of Rathbone's semi-autobiographical war novel, We That Were Young, and attempted to persuade Prentice to publish it. Prentice was not enthusiastic, although Chatto would eventually publish the novel in 1932, after another publisher had taken it on and then gone out of business.
As always, Aldington's support for a friend was wholehearted. At the time of the publishing collapse in 1931 which denied Rathbone's novel its audience, he wrote in the Referee:
It seems to me extraordinary that such a novel should have been rejected by several publishers and even now remains without a publisher. It is written from an intense personal experience with a wonderful sympathy for the lives and sufferings of others.... [A] book which wrote itself, something which simply had to be expressed. The people are ordinary enough, but they are alive, and the genuine pathos of some of the scenes is heart-rending. It is a frank and honest book and expresses in its own way the strange and lamentable tragedy of modern England.
On 18 September 1930 Aldington informed MacGreevy that, as he needed time to work on The Colonel's Daughter, he had suggested that Patmore and Derek go to Toulon or Marseilles until Derek's return to London. 'So I shall probably be alone for about a week,' he concluded, although extending an invitation to MacGreevy to join him – an invitation that he must have felt certain MacGreevy, only recently returned to Paris from the villa, would decline. That week was spent in the company of Rathbone, whom he had invited to visit him from London. It was their first meeting.
Irene Rathbone, 1933
What we know of that week we learn from an 800-line, free-verse narrative poem, Was There a Summer? (clearly modelled on A Dream in the Luxembourg) that Rathbone wrote in 1937. Her description of their first meeting is reminiscent of Black's account:
He stood in front of me, sunbeams about his head
And smiled through the midst of them.
I thought a god was there.
Rathbone's infatuation with Aldington, however, was the infatuation of a mature woman – she was the same age as him – and a fellow writer, and it would not fade with the years. She never married – partly because her fiancé died in 1920, but also because she spent her mature years as her parents' carer, dividing her time between the family home in Chipping Campden and an apartment in London. Her love for Aldington and her gratitude – and pain – for the short time they spent together never diminished, as is evident from her letters years later to Morgan and Cunard.
The poem describes, in a very similar vein to A Dream in the Luxembourg, the routines of those days at the villa. Rathbone stayed in a nearby hotel (her bill paid by Aldington), walking over to the villa in the late morning, when Aldington had completed his work for the day. Their time was spent swimming, sunbathing, lunching, making love, talking about poetry and 'old loves, old losses, regrets, hopes', and sitting on the terrace in the warm Mediterranean night. According to the poem, as the idyll came to an end, Aldington gave Rathbone his reassurance that he would come to London when the summer was over. The poem tells us:
He did not return
...
There was a letter from him – a dear letter – one
Then no more ever.
And I heard from someone who knew him
That he had gone far off
Farther south still than that coast
To.... It does not matter.
I was told, too, that he was not alone.
What it does not tell us is that there were two summers. In May 1931, she wrote c/o Chatto to congratulate him on The Colonel's Daughter. 'You must have had a heavenly time in Italy,' she comments, with only a hint of reproach for the broken promise. At the end of the letter she adds: 'If I said anything to you last summer that seemed annoying – or excessive – please believe that I am sorry. It was unintentional.' On 5 September Aldington told Prentice that Rathbone had 'turned up' at La Cavalière and that Patmore and Derek had gone to Cannes for a few days. That the poem is an amalgam of the two visits is clear from an account of driving to a mountain village 'in his battered sort of a car' to spend a night together. (Aldington only learned to drive and purchased his own car early in 1931.)
The poem was written after the affair had ended and it is clear that the effect of its ending was devastating for Rathbone, although she would not blame Aldington:
I have been blind with pain
But then
Blind almost with bliss too;
And it is a thing to accept
That the men who are the joy-bringers
Are inevitably the grief-bringers.
It is not their fault. Why should I call him faithless
Because his wings are not pinioned?
Because others beside myself are sung to?
...
... and if that self in me – that other who bleeds – cries:
Songless your life now
Starless and fooled you go
I shall not say it's a falsehood;
Only
Only that its opposite is also true.
In her succeeding novels the male heroes resemble Aldington in some respect – whether it be appearance, calling as a writer, beliefs and opinions, or a combination of these features – and many of the narratives carry poignant echoes of her experience. In October Jenny avoids the Luxembourg Gardens because of Gilbert:
who would have sprung to life once more, imploring her to write, making her promise to, swearing that he would write himself, that there should be no real break, that letters would keep their love alive, and that they would meet – abroad or in London – at intervals, for always.... Gilbert... whose work she had fallen in love with before ever she had met him.
In They Call It Peace (dedicated to Aldington) when Joan is abandoned by Paul, her married lover (and a writer), she reflects:
A man 'walked out on you'. Right! But not cleanly and for ever. How could he? – someone who had been part of you? – who was you? Nor could you let him. There was such a thing as wisdom, friends said, such a thing as pride. They didn't know.... Actually there was no wisdom, no pride. Only love.
In fact, Aldington did not 'walk out' altogether on Rathbone. The poignancy of Was There a Summer? is as sharp as it is because he had only just left her life for good when she wrote it in 1937. Her diaries and his letters to her – which she kept throughout her life – were destroyed on her death in 1980 by her niece and literary executor, Patricia Utechin; but Utechin, in conversation with Lynn Knight, when the latter was preparing a new edition of We That Were Young in the late 1980s, told Knight that Aldington had continued the affair with Rathbone through furtive visits whenever he was in London until his hasty departure for America at the end of 1936. Rathbone's poem was an outpouring of her grief at this abandonment.
She wrote to Cunard in 1953: '[Richard] was not (you have probably concluded) my only lover; he was the one, though, who made the sharpest, deepest impact on me, gave me the most delight & the worst suffering.'
### 9. The Private Life Meltdown 1936-1937
On 10 August 1935 the 24-year-old Michael Patmore was married to 23-year-old Netta McCulloch in St John the Baptist Church in Pinner, Middlesex. His mother and her partner were unable to attend as they were in Connecticut. His brother was also in the United States, preparing his autumn exhibition at Altman's department store in New York.
Aldington and Patmore must have met with Michael and his new bride on their return to London in mid-October. Another young couple of whom they saw a great deal were Eric and Violet Warman. Aldington also made one new acquaintance and picked up another from the past. The new friendship was with C.P. Snow, whom he visited in Cambridge on several occasions. In his memoir, Stranger and Brother, Philip Snow recalls Aldington's first visit: 'He was outstandingly handsome, the most impressive-looking writer I was ever to know.... During the weekend he stayed with Charles his stock grew with us. He was gentlemanly; this need not have followed from his rough war experiences starkly described in Death of a Hero.' The problematic relationship between art and science, which Snow would publicly debate 23 years later, was already a concern to Aldington, and the two men had much to discuss. Aldington would contribute an article, 'Science and Conscience', to the journal Discovery, of which Snow became editor in 1937; and it was Snow to whom Frere would turn in 1938 for Richard Aldington: An Appreciation, the pamphlet issued by Heinemann to accompany new editions of Aldington's novels.
Alec Waugh was the friend with whom an acquaintance was renewed. He and Aldington had met sporadically over the years since their first encounter at the Poetry Bookshop in 1919, but their more recent friendship had been occasioned by a scoffing remark about The Eaten Heart by Beachcomber of the Daily Express in 1934. Coming across this, Waugh had obtained a copy of the poem, then one of A Dream in the Luxembourg, both of which confirmed the opinion he had expressed in 1919 that Aldington was a fine love poet. He wrote to him and over the next three years they met whenever Aldington was in London.
C.P. Snow, 1934
By April 1936, when he and Patmore set off for Portugal, Spain, France and Austria in the company of the Glovers, Aldington had completed 60,000 words of what would become Very Heaven and had had the approval of both Prentice and Raymond. The title is drawn from the lines in The Prelude in which Wordsworth celebrates the early days of the French Revolution: 'Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive/ But to be young was very heaven!' With reference to the life of Chris Heylin, Aldington's protagonist, these lines are tinged with irony. Aldington worked on the novel throughout his travels and completed it during his two-and-a-half-month stay in Austria.
Very Heaven is the story of a young man in the postwar world who is forced, as a result of his father's financial losses, to give up his undergraduate life and make his way in the world without qualifications for any kind of employment. In the final pages of the novel, overcome with a sense of guilt and unworthiness and in despair at the state of the world around him, Chris determines to throw himself off a Portuguese clifftop. However, the sight of a butterfly caught in the wind on the rocks below him but wafted up to safety triggers his reflections on the place of the individual in the chain of life, a passage that recalls the final section of Life Quest (and Lawrence's Apocalypse):
On the edge of barren land and barren sea under the same sun, life was born. For millions of centuries life has struggled and perished under these three great powers. Yet it has always been passed on. The salt of the sea is in my blood, the radiance of the sun and the chemicals of earth in my cells. In all that unimaginable stretch of time what an infinity of chances against my ever existing! One broken link in that tremendous chain of life, and I could never have been. And I exist.
The novel ends with Chris walking away from the clifftop towards the little town, trusting in the human capacity for progress. 'And if the whole adventure does fail,' he concludes, 'at least we shall have had the exultation of the attempt.'
The novel is flawed by the weight of the ideas it has to carry. The protagonist is treated sympathetically and with some humorous critique of his youthful naivety and earnestness, but he also has to act as a mouthpiece for the author. In consequence, he engages in lengthy discourses, either with himself or delivered to other characters, and these are supported by further passages of exposition in the authorial voice. The targets are the usual ones: the older generation, materialism and greed, bourgeois codes of ethics (particularly sexual ethics), Christianity, militarism and the state of international politics; but no opportunity is missed to deliver the messages. This is particularly noticeable in the representation of the characters, many of whom are little more than caricatures. Even those with 'walk-on' parts are used in this way, for example a young university acquaintance of Chris who is 'an intelligent Catholic aesthete with a tendency to fascism' or a police sergeant who is 'one of those bluff hearty fellows who stand no nonsense from agitators – of the Left'. The young female characters, like those in Death of a Hero and All Men Are Enemies, are either enchanting, insipid or controlling.
As in Death of a Hero, the portraits of the protagonist's parents are damning. Chris's father's incompetence has led to the family's financial downfall, for which he evades responsibility, retiring to his bed and leaving his son to sort out the mess. However, there is a moving scene towards the end of the novel where Chris has to identify his father's body, a duty Aldington himself had been forced into undertaking. At the time he had written to Frank Flint: 'For me the dead are yellow faces, pools of blood, muddy khaki, hurried burials under shell-fire.... I became addicted to wholesale death; so retail death, although it touches me closely, cannot move me greatly'; but the account in Very Heaven prompts us to think otherwise.
Nell Heylin, Chris's mother, is an ignorant and grasping materialist, pushing her daughter into a loveless marriage to improve the family's financial prospects, preoccupied with her and her family's social standing and possessed of a love of drama and a sentimentality which includes her conviction that she 'can read [her] own son like a book': 'Nobody can understand a boy as his mother does.' She is drawn with a savagery even greater than that employed in the portrait of Isabel Winterbourne, suggesting that the intervening seven years had done nothing to diminish Aldington's contempt for his mother.
During his travels he told several correspondents that he intended to be on the Continent until September and then to visit Japan, but this plan seems to have been abandoned by late August when he informed Bacon that, after all, he would be spending the winter in 'smoky London' in order, he said, to write another novel. An undated entry in one of Patmore's personal notebooks gives us a clue as to the real reason for the change of plan. The entry tells us that she and Aldington had opened and read the mail that was awaiting them at a French village which they had given as a poste restante and that she had recognised her daughter-in-law's handwriting on one of the envelopes addressed to Aldington. It was their habit to exchange their letters after they had read them, but she did not find the one from her daughter-in-law amongst those he gave her. When she enquired about it, he silently passed it to her; reading it, she experienced 'a curious gasping pain' around her heart.
It is hard to know exactly what happened after the return to London and the Cavendish Hotel on 1 October, but the events were dramatic – and agonising for those affected. First, Aldington seems to have had a major dispute with Chatto, such that he instructed Pinker to terminate his contract and arrange the transfer of all publishing rights to Heinemann – just as Very Heaven was going through the editing stage. The letters exchanged between Pinker, Raymond and Frere show the cordial relations between these three parties – and their utter puzzlement, embarrassment and consternation. Pinker informed the other two that Aldington was so enraged with Chatto that he could not bear to correspond with the company and wanted Pinker to conduct all the negotiations. Frere wrote to Raymond: 'I had talks with Richard, who was emotionally upset and deranged, but was also both determined and adamant.... I want to thank you personally for being so damned decent about the whole thing.'
Chatto were compliant, agreeing to release Aldington from his contracts if the company could come to 'a reasonable arrangement' with Heinemann regarding his already-published work. '[W]e have worked hard over Richard's work for more than seven years and it goes without saying that he is a very considerable asset to our list,' Raymond wrote to Pinker, estimating a figure of £3,100, which included £1,000 for Chatto's loss of profits on the existing publications, particularly the eight titles in the Phoenix Library. He concluded: 'This is a very laconic letter, I fear. You know how we must be feeling about all this. But I don't think there is anything to be gained by protestation. One can only accept the situation.'
Of course, Prentice's retirement from Chatto had been a disappointment to Aldington, but his relationship with Raymond had always been a good one, and Raymond and his wife Vera had visited Aldington and Patmore in France on at least one occasion, as well as socialising with them in London. Aldington's correspondence with Parsons, the other Chatto director, with whom he had dealings whenever Raymond was on holiday, had always been cordial.
There had been two slightly awkward exchanges between Raymond and Aldington when the latter returned from America in the autumn of 1935, fired up – as he had had no ideas for a new novel since Women Must Work in 1934 – with Doubleday's suggestion of a book on the Borgias and still keen to have Life of a Lady published. Raymond had 'declined' to publish the play: 'We don't feel it is worthy of you.... I can't seem to find a whiff of R.A. in it.' About the Borgia book, he had been discouraging. 'The slump, combined with the general pursuit of the bestseller, has dealt a heavy blow to any serious work of non-fiction,' he had told Aldington, adding that the outline the latter had provided might make the book 'a trifle episodic', 'a fact which we think accounts more than anything else for the disappointing sales and reviews of Artifex'.
By January 1936, however, the Borgias abandoned, Aldington was communicating excitedly with Raymond about the early stages of Very Heaven. He thanked Raymond for Chatto's forbearance during what he called his 'ghastly interregnum', which he blamed on his accident and the subsequent operations. He had, he said, only felt fully recovered in the last month, but was delighted to be able to inform Raymond that he had already written 5,000 words of a new novel and even had an idea for another. 'Only Charles and Brigit know that I've got off the mark again,' he wrote, 'but I feel you ought to know because of the subsidy, and because you are you!'
Writing to his friend Alister Kershaw twelve years later, Aldington described Raymond as 'a chump' but called Parsons 'an excretum of purest ray serene, and my reason for leaving [Chatto]'. Quite what had caused his objection to Parsons we do not know – but the fall-out was massive. Whatever the cause of the rupture, Aldington became a Heinemann author. It was an acquisition about which Frere would have cause to be ambivalent over the next two decades. Reconciling the conflicting demands of his professional and his personal relationships with Aldington would prove wearing. That this had never been the case where Prentice was concerned may be due to the fact that the latter had been Aldington's publisher before he was his friend. On the other hand, it may tell us more about the personalities involved: Prentice was a tolerant and gentle man; both Aldington and Frere were made of more explosive material.
* * *
Frere was called on to play a part in the even more dramatic and agonising events that were taking place in Aldington's personal life. Aldington had begun an affair with Netta Patmore, Michael's new wife. He told H.D. in January 1937 that the affair had been going on for over a year. This means that it must have started not long after his return from America in the autumn of 1935 – and only a few months after Netta's marriage. H.D. encountered the pair on one occasion in a London teashop ('The Nell Gwynne' she noted ironically). She subsequently told Jessie Capper that Netta had seemed very young: 'a slight little thing with no hat, no vamp, little if any make-up, a nicely tailored little dark costume, rather on the tiny, petite side'.
There seems to have come a moment when Aldington decided that this would not be yet another affair and that he must marry Netta. She, meanwhile, had to choose between the two men – or retain Aldington as an extramarital lover. He proposed that they run off to America. On 5 December 1936 he wrote a long letter to Pat and Frere, arranging for them to meet Netta and himself for lunch. He acknowledged difficulties: the 20-year age gap; his sense that she admired him as a writer rather than as a man; and her affection for Michael. Brigit's feelings are not mentioned. What he does say is that he feels 'utterly married' to Netta and that this is a feeling he has never experienced before. (We might recall his telling Brigit in 1930 that he felt 'married' to her.) He concludes, melodramatically: 'I died in 1916, and came alive again in 1936. And it's damned painful, for I don't know whether I am coming or going.' This statement implies that it had taken him 20 years to recover from his wartime experiences and that the relationships of the intervening years were somehow aberrant.
Netta, it appears, did not want to hurt either Brigit or Michael. Aldington had always believed that Michael, like Derek, was gay. He told Frere: 'If she's really in love with the pansy, it's a god-awful tragedy.' He subsequently told H.D. that 'the marriage with Michael was not a real one – you know what I mean'. It is possible that the physical aspect of the marriage had proved unfulfilling; Netta does not seem to have contradicted Aldington's views on this matter. We need to note here, however, that Michael Patmore would remarry in 1940 and have two children.
Aldington decided that, with or without Netta, he would go to America. There were what he referred to in a letter to H.D. as 'terrible scenes with Brigit and Michael'. On 16 December Netta told him that she would not leave Michael and, in an undated, hand-delivered letter explaining her decision, wrote: 'I don't want to leave Micky more than I want to lose you.... If it weren't for the "tangled web" and loving Micky, your passion would be pure glory.' From the SS Normandie, bound for New York, Aldington wrote Pat and Frere another long letter. He told them:
I loved and, alas, still love that girl more than anyone in my life; for a time I was nearer to her than to any human being; and until Wednesday I trusted her utterly. But how can one go on trusting a woman who allows a dagger to be put into her hands, with careful instructions, and who uses it ruthlessly? She accused me of pride when I refused the position of spare-time lover and sugar-daddy. What the hell else has she left me?... I thought I had found, indeed I had found, someone with whom I was in complete harmony, with whom there was no necessity for defences. That made me so damnably and ridiculously vulnerable.
The reference to 'instructions' and the implication of betrayal suggest that Michael and Brigit had had a hand in Netta's decision. Much of the letter is concerned with professional matters: he was correcting the proofs of Very Heaven; but he concludes: 'My first business is to learn to stand quite alone in life, and for that these five days of solitude at sea are useful.'.
Arriving in New York, he was met by Malcolm Johnson and driven to the Doubledays' mansion in South Carolina. They were welcoming and hospitable, but Ellen Doubleday wrote to Patmore, expressing their regret that she was 'slipping out' of their lives. As Aldington's American publisher, Doubleday had little choice. 'Oh, Brigit, my dear, my heart does ache for you and Michael and my mind is nearly bewildered,' Ellen wrote. 'I can only send my love and tell you if some sorrow comes to me I pray to meet it as you do.'
Writing to Slonimsky from the Doubleday home on 2 January, Aldington was less than frank. Arranging to meet his friend in New York, he told him that the Doubledays had issued a 'general invitation' and that he had 'suddenly decided' to come over for Christmas. 'Brigit is staying in London with the boys,' he ended. The proposed meeting would not take place. A cable arrived at the Doubleday residence three days later: Netta had changed her mind. On 7 January Aldington set off from South Carolina to board SS Lafayette, bound for Plymouth, telling Slonimsky that he had been suddenly called back to England on 'urgent affairs'.
On board the Lafayette, he was bombarded by telegrams from Netta, telling him how 'crazy with impatience and love' she was and that she would meet him in Plymouth. To judge from a letter Patmore wrote to the Warmans, the Freres had had a hand in the matter. Telling the Warmans that Aldington had left her '& not just with "another woman"' but with her son's wife, Patmore continued:
Michael has been terribly run-down with overwork & trying to steer her through all sorts of emotional strains. She said up to the last moment – i.e. Thursday [7 January] – that Michael was the one she loved & that she was taking him away to a cottage in Dorset where they'd both been so happy. Then on that morning, Frere-Reeves of Heinemann's rang her up & arranged for her to go somewhere the next day & R. was going to meet her – straight back from USA. Until Frere-Reeves came into the affair things might have settled into some order, but he's just pushed them into it – violently.
Whether or not the Freres had taken the initiative, they had certainly picked Netta up from her home in Dorset Square once she had decided to leave Michael, and she was their guest until her departure for Plymouth. Aldington felt indebted. 'I can't ever thank you for what you've done and are doing. You have literally made this possible & thereby really saved my life. I'll never forget this,' he wrote to them as, reunited with Netta, he set off for France. 'I must have those divorces,' he added, 'It's a damn crime if we don't have a child.'
This desire is echoed in a letter to H.D. (the first communication between them for five years), written five days earlier from on board the Lafayette: 'We want to marry and have a child.... If you will set me free to marry her, I shall bless you indeed.' He painted a picture of rescuing Netta from an 'angel in the house' existence: 'With me she can live the adventurer's life for which she was born.' He told H.D. that he was giving Brigit part of his income and added: 'It is horrible to have to hurt other people.' Echoing Anthony Clarendon in All Men Are Enemies, he wrote: 'Dooley, I trust you. I felt you ought to know about this.
Forgive me if anything in this letter gives you pain. Lovers are selfish. They have to be. The world is against them. Don't be against us. Let us have our life together.'
Characteristically, H.D. was excited by the drama, writing immediately to tell Plank what had happened:
I had a thunder-bolt by way of letter from RA.... I am perfectly willing to do this + am consulting experts to see if divorce is feasible, but psychically I fear a catch + think the state of Denmark pretty rotten.... [Brigit] is apparently on the war path + frankly, to me, the whole thing looks tricky + shady to a degree, not to mention incest.... My mind is cold like ice but my heart thumps when I even think of it – can't sleep... what 'doings'.
Bryher, of course, was delighted: 'I do hope you manage to go through with it. Far better once and for all to be rid of dear Cuthbert.'
'Cuthbert' meanwhile was in Brantôme with Netta, from where he wrote to Orioli, telling him that he hoped to bring Netta to meet him – and Douglas – in February. The letter ends: 'Dear Pino, I'm so happy, I hope you'll be happy with us.' Like the letter to H.D., it is an appeal for support. Brigit and Michael were also travelling and she, too, was calling on the understanding of friends. In the letter to the Warmans she explained that she and Michael had felt they must get away. Surprisingly perhaps, given what must have been painful memories of the Riviera, they were at the Hotel Beau Rivage in Nice. She told the Warmans:
It would be easier to bear if it had been anyone else & Michael too feels that but for his wife I'd still be happy – and you can understand all that. But in a way, it's good for me to be HERE to show him that there's a life even better than one had always ahead.
The rest of the letter concerns the divorce proceedings that might ensue and it is clear that there has already been an argument between themselves and Aldington in which the latter had indicated that Netta would sue on the grounds of non-consummation, while Michael would only proceed on the grounds of Netta's adultery. 'How can I possibly ask [Michael] to take the blame?' Patmore asked the Warmans. 'He's too young to spoil his life in that way.... It's strange to have to protect my son's name in connection with the fair name of someone I thought was my husband – I mean that in its deepest and most enduring sense.' 'I fear we've spoiled a sort of ideal for you,' she told the couple, continuing: 'I wonder what I did that was so very wrong. In a way, Mickie's burden is more than mine because he can't believe that R. would do this to him – he's got two deceptions.'
This sense of responsibility for the events surfaces again in the personal notebook mentioned previously:
My own finding is that while not exactly regretting having loved, my remorse is for having loved without wisdom. It seems now to me that my failure was in greatness and strength. I loved in a fervour of worship and a fear of loss which took away all possibility of wise behaviour, for I was cold and hid my real feelings when they ought to have flared out, & then not become emotional & verbose when a smiling silence would have arranged things very nicely.
One of the few photographs of the couple during their 'Riviera years' endorses this perspective on the relationship: Aldington faces the camera cheerfully and confidently, his arm around Patmore; she looks up at him with a gaze full of anxiety. She told H.G. Wells, one of the friends to whom she turned:
Apart from the natural desire for youth & change & the rather pitiful desire for a child there are in Richard the almost universal ache to make others suffer what one has endured in one's own life & a complicated hidden anger with me for not being as beastly to my sons as his mother was to him.
It is a harsh judgement but its location of the source of Aldington's behaviour in his childhood is perceptive.
The astounding feature of the events is not so much the end of Aldington's relationship with Patmore – although there are very few hints in the correspondence (despite the evidence of his other affairs) that all was not well between them – but Aldington's determination, first to conduct an affair with, and then to marry, her daughter-in-law.
Derek Patmore remarks in his introduction to his mother's memoirs that All Men Are Enemies (published in 1933) symbolised 'the apex' of Aldington's love for Patmore. 'Although it took several years before this love affair broke up, it foreshadowed the tragedy to come,' he wrote. What led to the deterioration of the relationship can only be speculation, but the restlessness of their existence in its later years and the consequent loosening of ties with their closest friends, leading to comparative isolation, may well have been a contributory factor. Not that they were without a social life on those travels: Derek Patmore recalls how charming and hospitable their neighbours in Connecticut had been and how, on his weekend visits from New York, they had enjoyed 'picnics with neighbours and small evening reunions'. These, however, were no substitute for the close – and shared – friendships with Prentice and MacGreevy, and even – for a couple of years – with Douglas and Orioli. Only the friendship with the Warmans had seemed to offer a possible replacement. The Glovers, of course, had been their closest companions in the later years but towards the end, particularly in the period they spent together in Austria over the summer of 1936, that friendship had made heavy demands on them.
Richard Aldington and Brigit Patmore in the south of France in the mid-1930s
Alec Waugh's memoirs contain some penetrating observations about how this state of affairs had come about. He describes finding, when he met up with Aldington in 1934, that the latter was living with 'a widow rather older than himself'. His description of Patmore is complimentary: 'She was red-haired and extremely handsome; it was obvious that she had been a very great beauty in her youth. She was still most attractive.... Hers and Aldington's had clearly been a high romance.' Then Waugh adds: 'One said to oneself, "The disparity of age. How long will it last?"'
He realised, in retrospect, he says, that, during the three years of their friendship in London (1934-1936), he had never seen Aldington 'against the background of his personal life': 'He was either my guest, or the guest of someone else, of Douglas Goldring, at least once.' 'It is my belief,' he continues, 'that he was one of those men who cannot be bothered to organise a social life, who socially live from hand to mouth, making the most of what happens to be around.' While this does not match our knowledge of the life the couple led in the south of France in the summers of 1930, 1931 and 1933, it does apply to the periods they spent in Italy and in London and, in particular, to the later years. They had no settled home – eventually living in a London hotel.
Waugh goes on to argue that it was because Aldington 'left things to chance' in this way, that he 'found confusion in his private life'. The following passage is worth quoting in full:
I think the nature of that collapse [of the relationship with Patmore] was determined by Aldington's indifference to the organisation of a personal life. Most men, l'homme moyen sensual, manage to conduct their passades so that they do not impair irretrievably the fabric of their domesticity. They do not make love to their wife's best friend. They maintain appearances. I do not say that this is an admirable characteristic, but it is a social lubricant. Aldington, like Shelley, within the narrow limits of his domestic circle, stumbled, unknowingly, unwittingly into confusion. He fell in love with his consort's daughter-in-law. Could anything be more humiliating for a woman than to have a lover younger than herself desert her for her son's wife: and to become the father of that woman's daughter? Yet, let anyone who feels censorious read Aldington's The Crystal World. It is a fine and noble poem. It is not an apologia. It says quite simply, 'When this happens, when this ultimate mystery is revealed, there is no alternative but to accept it.'
Alec Waugh, October 1937
Of course, Aldington himself would see 'maintaining appearances' as Victorian hypocrisy. Nevertheless, it was how he had managed his relationship with Patmore alongside his affairs with Black and Rathbone. The Crystal World, the poem he wrote for Netta over the next few months (just as he had written Reverie for H.D., Images of Desire for Yorke, A Dream in the Luxembourg for Dobrée and The Eaten Heart for Patmore) was not, as Waugh points out, 'an apologia'. He wrote:
You see for them it is not enough
To have a biological affair –
Which would be quite easy –
Or to meet as intimate friends,
Which would be even easier.
You have here two passionate natures
Unable to compromise
Under the smug winking of the hypocrite world.
They must have everything,
Must share each day and night,
Must grow together closer, closer
And build their crystal world.
The poem provides a further clue to his conduct. The narrative follows his courtship of Netta and at the point where the poet thinks that he and his lover have parted for good, a section of the poem is addressed to the child they will never have. At the end of this section, he turns to the dead of the Great War:
O comrades lying in the fields of France,
Strange is our fate; childless like me you died;
For us the coloured flame of love fades out,
The million generations have an end,
The ship of life sinks in a dusty sea.
The letters he wrote to Frere and to H.D. that are quoted above both indicate that having a child was an important element of his vision of a life with Netta; this passage from the poem shows that fatherhood was something he now craved. Patmore could not give him a child, as Derek explains in his introduction to her memoirs. This would not have been a concern for her; she already had two much-loved sons. However, two of Aldington's closest friends were now fathers or would-be fathers: the Warmans' daughter, Jean, was now four years old; and Pat and Frere were about to become parents.
Setting aside the desire for a child, we have seen a similar pattern of behaviour on several occasions in Aldington's past: in his determination to persist in the affair with Yorke; in his angry parting from H.D.; in his pursuit of Dobrée; and in his abandonment of Yorke. His childhood years and early relationships were complicated and troubled ones. In a settled relationship with H.D. in his twenties he might have been able to resolve the resultant emotional tensions. Two events made that impossible: one was the stillbirth of their child, for which he had never allowed himself to grieve and which destroyed the sexual side of their marriage; the other was the war. Both events served to complicate the tensions already within him. The remark he made to Frere in 1935 ('I have been surprised to find how bitterly I still resent things I thought I had long ago dealt with and forgotten') demonstrated his awareness of the problem. In several of his relationships – with Eliot, Read and the Criterion set for example – we see behaviour suggestive of low self-esteem and an inability to accept criticism, the inheritance of that troubled childhood. The writing of Death of a Hero and Roads to Glory had helped him to come to terms with the war bitterness and trauma – although they would never be entirely resolved – but even the savage representation of his parents and his family life in the former of these – and more recently in Very Heaven – had hardly begun to relieve him of this burden.
The travelling years were not so much a cause of the breakdown of his relationship with Patmore, although they may well have been a factor, as a symptom of his inability to resolve his inner chaos. Only excitement and constant change could distract him from that painful process; and by these means it was postponed. Travel acted as work had done in the 1920s, as a means of avoidance. However, once the genie had come out of the bottle in Tobago, it could not be put back. Writing Very Heaven only succeeded in making him reflect further and even more painfully and bitterly on the confusions and humiliations of his childhood and youth. The affair with Netta bolstered his self-esteem at this difficult time, given both her admiration for him and his own sense that he was a more worthy partner for her than Michael Patmore. It also displayed all the characteristics of his previous sexual behaviour during the war and its aftermath and at the end of the twenties when he was struggling to contain the chaos within: the infatuations, the obsessiveness, the ruthlessness. Between those two major eruptions, and in the more recent period of his life with Patmore, minor affairs – Capper, Black and Rathbone – had served to keep the demons at bay. This time, however, as in 1919 and 1929, only the complete destruction of his current life would serve.
Whatever the cause, he was now embarked on his fourth long-term relationship. As for Patmore, even in June 1938 she was writing to Morgan: 'I'm so glad you think I look all right. Half of me wants to die and the other half knows it's got to live decently – and therefore beautifully.' In a letter to Gluckman 25 years later, Aldington would call Patmore 'a very sweet and good woman whom I still love in retrospect', but the intervening years were to see a bitter and relentless battle between them over the financial settlement made at their separation.
## Part Two
## THE EXILE
## 1937-1950
### 10. Divorce 1937-1938
The new relationship, with its aims of marriage and parenthood, necessitated two divorces. Although the H.D.-Aldington divorce (on the grounds of his adultery) would go smoothly and without acrimony, it caused H.D. a great deal of anxiety. She had spent much of the 1930s in analysis, as she explained to Capper:
[I]t is a strange fatality that I should get my inner life clear with such excruciating pain (the analytical work) only just as I am recovering from that, to have another sort of search light trained on me.... It is a terrible thing to go back twenty years, especially as it seems all that happened yesterday.
Like Aldington, she saw the war as having had a devastating effect on her subsequent development: '[T]hat is what the war did to us, took away our youth and gave us eternal youth.' She added, with humour (and perceptiveness): 'Richard acts as if he had arrested development, though, I must say.' On Bryher's advice, she went back into analysis.
Her lengthy 'Petitioner's Statement' detailed the story of her marriage and separation and of events over the subsequent years. She knew she was treading a minefield but, no doubt with advice from the shrewd and practical Bryher, she negotiated it. She confessed to her affair with Gray (although making clear that this was fleeting, and subsequent to Aldington's affair with Yorke) and to his parentage of Perdita; she said that 'apart from two or three accidental meetings' she had not seen Aldington since their separation in 1919 nor (and this was true) received any financial support from him. She had, she said, gone to live with her mother in Switzerland until the latter's departure for the United States in 1926 and death a year later. (She thus skirted the issue of the relationship between herself and Bryher.) She explained why she had not filed a divorce claim sooner: 'I was afraid it might entail harmful publicity for my daughter and I was also afraid I might fail because of my own misconduct.' In an earlier – and even lengthier – account written for her solicitor she admitted that, although there was nothing in her conduct 'over the last five or six years' which could appear 'incorrect', there might have been occasions in the three years following her mother's departure for the United States 'that would possibly have been open to criticism'.
The Statement referred to her weak state of health after the stillbirth of 1915 and to Aldington's excessive sexual demands, to his conduct of his affair with Yorke and his rage over the registration of Perdita's birth. It also stressed that Yorke, Patmore, and now Netta Patmore had all 'passed off' as 'Mrs Aldington'. In notes she wrote at the time she remarked: 'Arabella was Mrs A. of course. Everybody is Mrs A. It is a sort of Greek chorus. I suppose I might be presumed to be leader of the chorus, who has been asked to step out (vide Richard's letter) to play before the fall of the curtain, the Deus ex machina.' She saw the latest development as another play: The Seagull, with Michael Patmore as Konstantin, Netta as Nina, Brigit as Irina Arkadina, Aldington as Trigorin – and herself as the seagull.
To Capper, who had always felt sympathy for Yorke, she wrote: 'I am truly sorry about Arabella, she was let down badly'; but, adding a sting in the tail as she was wont to do, she remarked: 'But who of us has not been?' Yorke would be cited as co-respondent, and Capper would be the witness. Barbara Guest tells us: 'What happened was that H.D. began simultaneously to suffer from and to enjoy the fancy drama of the forsaken wife who now controlled the fate of the negligent husband. H.D. may have made malicious remarks, but she did not behave maliciously. It was simply not her way.'
Michael Patmore's plea for divorce from Netta on the grounds of adultery, with Aldington cited as co-respondent, was both more straightforward and more bitter, involving as it did Aldington's betrayal of Brigit. He had offered to give her a financial settlement, but the battles over the extent of damages he would pay both Michael and his mother were fierce. In November 1937 Michael was granted a decree nisi with costs and £1,500 in agreed damages.
The H.D. divorce took longer. The decree nisi was granted on 13 May 1938, only two months before Netta and Aldington were expecting a baby, but there were to be a further six months before the decree absolute. Aldington was desperate for his child to be legitimate, probably not recalling his insensitivity 20 years earlier to H.D.'s similar need. The couple returned to England in early June and Aldington contacted H.D. to ask if he might visit her at her flat in Lowndes Square as a matter of urgency. He came on the afternoon of 9 June. It was the only occasion in those 20 years when they had been alone together, although H.D. had carefully arranged that her friend Silvia Dobson, who had come an hour earlier, would stay on for the first fifteen minutes of his visit. He stayed for two hours. He wanted her to intervene in the case to bring the decree absolute forward; he also had to tell her that he had no money and could not pay any of the costs of the divorce, for which they had agreed to share the expense. 'I never knew anyone make such a muddle of anything,' she wrote to Plank.
The divorce was finalised on 22 June; the couple were married three days later; and Catherine Aldington was born on 6 July.
### 11. A Crystal World? 1937-1939
At the Cavendish Hotel Patmore was trying to adjust to life on her own. She told the Warmans:
I don't want to stamp Richard out of my life – don't think it's right anyway, for I believe in our life together – it stands for something. But then it's harder than ever I imagined to get used to the blank. Nine years is a long time of habit, isn't it?
She continued:
And I can't just keep quiet about everything as I would if it only concerned myself. Michael has got to be protected from all the false rumours and humiliations attached to such a situation. Going to France was hell for almost every road is associated with R. but it did Michael good.
She ended:
I can't cook a dinner here because I've moved to other rooms but when you're free one night at least take beer & bread & cheese if you can stand that. We won't be sad either – this is just a bit of a lonely road for me, but it will be good for me, stiffen up my muscles & mind & if R. is happy it will be good for him too.
The Warmans were kind and sympathetic; but it was Aldington with whom Warman would keep in touch in the long term.
From the moment Aldington was reunited with Netta in Plymouth, he chose to take her to all the places which had romantic associations for him. From Brantôme they drove through France to Italy – first to Florence to visit Orioli and Douglas and then to Capri. By April, as Very Heaven was published, they were settled in a villa on the Riviera – but not just any villa: the Villa Koechlin at Rayol-Canadel, which he had last rented in 1931.
Reviews of the novel were mixed, The Times describing it as 'a slender achievement' and the TLS noting that the hero's 'moralisings take up a large proportion of Mr Aldington's 376 pages', but Strauss called the book 'sharply provocative, outspoken, uncomfortable, and whether you regard Christopher Heylin as typical of his generation or not, exceedingly interesting'. The Daily Telegraph reviewer, while finding Chris Heylin 'little but a projection of Mr Aldington's sympathy and indignation' and the other characters 'cardboard caricatures set up for the author to pelt with verbal brickbats', nevertheless acknowledged the 'immense vitality' of the writing: 'If he flogs dead horses, he flogs them with gusto.' Douglas West in the Daily Mail similarly felt that the 'walking ideas' remained 'real people' and that the invective was 'so wholehearted' that few readers would complain.
The Crystal World, written throughout the early months of 1937 and published in the spring of 1938, was a return to the style of Life Quest – a 600-line poem organised into a series of lyrics recounting the story of Aldington's courtship of Netta, its setbacks and triumphs, and celebrating the life they had created together.
Out of our love we have built a crystal refuge
Unseen but very strong and ours,
Only we can enter it and be safe.
We dwell at the very heart of life...
'Give us our world.'
It will not be given; you must make it.
Only from the purity of extreme passion,
And, alas, the purity of extreme pain,
Can you build the crystal world.
The first half of the poem consists of 21 short and intensely personal lyrics, but the second half (section 22 – itself divided into eleven sub-sections) provides an epilogue which re-tells the whole story in more discursive and prosaic language, providing the writer with opportunities for reflection. In a critical review in Poetry Kerker Quinn thought the lyrics 'commonplace', 'giv[ing] us emotion unrefined, untransfused', and suggested that the 'dry expansive poetic essay' at the end would have been more effective if broken up and woven into the main body of the poem – the technique Aldington had employed in Life Quest. Quinn found a 'flowering beauty' reminiscent of Aldington's best work in several of the lyrics, but felt that this was insufficient to compensate for the rest. He concluded by remarking that Very Heaven and Artifex had displayed a similar lack of concentration and self-criticism, which subtracted a good deal from 'their potential excellence'.
Aldington himself, advising Frere on promoting the poem, linked The Crystal World not to Life Quest but to A Dream in the Luxembourg, arguing that:
both poems go counter to the current intellectualist trend in poetry – they are purely poems of la sensibilité, and depend, not on any abstract theory of how poetry should be written, but on the validity, depth and poignancy of the emotions. Instead of seeking the intellectually rare and striking, they accept the obvious, commonplace universal feelings. And they are not written from the attitude of the Bard condescending, but of the ordinary man in and out of a pickle.
That both he and Quinn used the word 'commonplace' is of interest; for Aldington the word was a recommendation – and a rebuttal of the school of Pound and Eliot.
In July, Frere, Pat and their baby arrived for a month's stay at the villa. That month, Aldington wrote to Orioli: 'There is a rumour here that Uncle N. is in serious trouble. I do hope it isn't true. Will you let me know? And if it is true, tell me if there is anything I can do.' Twenty years after his flight from England to escape charges of assaulting a teenage boy, Douglas had been banished from Italy over charges of raping a young girl. He settled in Vence, just inside the French border and 85 miles from Rayol-Canadel. He would be there until 1941.
Meanwhile, Aldington had started on a comic novel. If Seven Against Reeves reflects his state of mind at the time of writing, then his 'crystal world' was giving him much contentment. It is a relaxed and entertaining novel concerning an innocent and likeable 50-year-old, moderately-wealthy and recently-retired businessman. He is brought into contact, for the first time in his life, and by the insistence of his wife, with the world of the pretentious bourgeoisie and, through their patronage of the arts, with the world of minor artists determined to divest him of some of his money: he is, in turn, persuaded to subsidise a bad musician, to buy the work of an equally bad painter and to purchase the services of a shockingly bad interior decorator; only because he has become more shrewd and confident, does he turn down the opportunity to invest in an even worse literary magazine project. The latter incident gives Aldington the opportunity for witty portraits of Douglas and Orioli, while the character of the young social climber and interior decorator Anselm Hawksneetch is clearly inspired by Derek Patmore.
Reeves's observations about the art world remind us of Lewis's The Apes of God or of Aldington's own satirical account in Part Two of Death of a Hero:
There were young men of means who dressed elegantly, collected many quaint and delightful objets d'art to furnish their houses and studios and painted at leisure. There were other young men who painted in haste because they had no money, who affected the garb and deportment of tramps, and lived in surroundings of revolting squalor. The females all had incomes or allowances of some kind, and seemed to be divided into those who wore arty clothes and did their hair in bangs and buns, and those whose hair and clothes were comparatively normal and pretty. In his own mind Mr Reeves further divided them – from their conversation – into painters who were Communists and Communists who painted, an over-subtle and arbitrary distinction. As a matter of fact, some of them were Fascists, but Mr Reeves had not yet learned to distinguish between the intellectual supporters of these rival revolutions.
The novel, however, has none of the savagery of those two works. Labelled 'a comedy-farce', it is a successful venture into the genre – characterisation, dialogue and incident handled with poise and elegance. Aldington even manages, through Reeves's brief encounters with a young writer named Willoughby Houghton and with two academics, Underwood and Remington, to air some of his own ideas with lightness and humour.
Moderately successful though the novel was, when published in March 1938 (with a subscription sale of 6,000 and reviews commending its 'gusto', 'vitality', 'wit', 'liveliness' and 'fun'), it was not quite what Aldington's publishers wanted from their new author. Charles Seddon Evans, chairman of Heinemann, wrote to him in August 1937: 'For better or for worse, I take the view that you are amusing yourself with Reeves – at least you should be; and there are plenty of people at this moment waiting to be confounded by a light-hearted novel from you', but he continued: 'It is good news that you have got the idea for a more solid novel; and that you will start on it as soon as you have polished off Reeves.'
In November 1937 the couple returned to England; Netta was pregnant and the Villa Koechlin was in bad repair, it let in the rain and had no satisfactory heating system. He also needed to be in London to fight the Patmore lawyers: 'It is extraordinary,' he told Warman, 'how people with highly refined feeling and aristocratic pretensions are so damn keen on money. Not to mention revenge.' They moved into Ashley Bank, South View Road in Pinner, Middlesex, near to Netta's brother, James, and other members of her family. Aldington was able to renew his friendship with Prentice, but the latter's health gave him cause for concern, as he confided regularly to Orioli.
The Patmore divorce was settled that month and in February 1938 the couple returned to the Villa Koechlin, where Aldington made a start on the next novel. They were not without friends as the Glovers had been spending the winter on the Riviera. Glover was in better health and they had travelled extensively since their return from Arizona in July 1935. Another visitor that spring of 1938 was Aldington's (and Glover's) old friend George Gribble. In April, however, Aldington and Netta moved to Lausanne, having been told of the gynaecological expertise available in Switzerland. They did not take to the country. 'This, my dear boy,' Aldington told Warman:
is a perfection of civic organisation such as England has never dreamed of – no slums, handsome public buildings, fantastically neat clean streets, infinite garden suburbs, well-drilled vineyards, fruit trees in every garden, and real genuine beauty of lakes and mountains, even the picturesque past most carefully preserved. It's quite unbearable. Everything which is not obligatory is forbidden.
This disenchantment and the pressing need to ensure that the decree absolute for his divorce would come through in time for them to marry before the baby was born, drove them to London (to the Astor Hotel in Princes Square) – and Aldington to that awkward meeting at H.D.'s flat at Lowndes Square at which she agreed not only to hasten the process but to pay all the costs.
Catherine Aldington was born on 6 July – eleven days after Aldington's marriage to Netta and two days before his 46th birthday. By the end of the month the family were living at Bramshott Cottage in Liphook, Hampshire. Meanwhile, Heinemann had issued a uniform edition of six Aldington works, accompanied by a pamphlet written by C.P. Snow. Aldington was thrilled, telling Warman: 'Heinemanns have taken immense trouble and spared no expense, and I think they are the nicest pocket editions on the market.... As you can imagine, the appearance of "Works of" is rather an event for me, a sort of jubilee of 25 years of writing.' To his satisfaction, both the TLS and John O' London's Weekly ran short reviews of the edition alongside articles contributed by Aldington himself. The Warmans visited Liphook, Eric showing enthusiasm for what he was shown of the next novel.
Parenthood was all Aldington had hoped it might be. He delighted in his daughter and she in him. Her name was shortened to Catha, a reference to the heroine of All Men Are Enemies. Orioli received regular reports on her growth and ailments. MacGreevy, who managed a brief visit, recalled 20 years later: 'I only remember your daughter's waking from sleep and smiling instantly at the sight of her father standing at the end of her cot.' In September the family returned to the Villa Koechlin. At the end of that month Neville Chamberlain signed the Munich Agreement, an action Aldington approved. 'I hate the idea of another war,' he told Warman. It would not be long before he perceived that war was inevitable. He wrote to Bacon – an awkward letter to write since it was his first for three years and he had a favour to ask: could Bacon help him obtain a post in an American university, teaching English Literature? Bacon was at first hopeful of a post at Yale, but by December was writing to say that the university had no money to spare.
The crystal world seemed fragile, and several of Aldington's friends were in similarly depressed circumstances: Prentice's health showed no improvement and, in Florence, Orioli was tending to the dying Reggie Turner. By the New Year, Aldington had decided to go to America even though there was no job for him and little prospect of increasing his revenue from writing. Netta was prepared to use money she had inherited when her father died in February 1938 to get them established on the other side of the Atlantic. Returning to England at the end of January 1939, they embarked for New York on the SS Aquitania on 11 February. They checked in at Hyde Park Hotel, 25 East 77th Street six days later; they would stay in the city for six weeks.
Richard and Netta Aldington in the early 1940s
### 12. The New World, Again 1939-1942
The first task Aldington faced was having to write to Bacon – currently in Honolulu – to apologise for throwing himself and his family on his friend's good will. Meanwhile, he had other friends in New York to whom he could turn: the Slonimskys, Bertie and Milla Eskell (Bertie having recently remarried) and Johnson and his family. (Despite Aldington's departure from Doubleday, Doran, Johnson would still prove a useful friend and adviser.) Paul Willert, another friend from former times and now at Oxford University Press in New York, offered him work as a reader ($25 a commission) and took him to meet members of the English Faculty at Harvard. He also visited Princeton. Neither university, however, would offer him a post. His pursuit of academic employment was almost entirely fruitless, despite the support of Bacon and others. There were isolated invitations: he gave a lecture at Wellesley College in late September, another at Harvard in mid-October and a reading at the recently opened Queen's College, New York, in November; he had a week as 'visiting poet' at Wesleyan University in Connecticut in March 1940, delivered a series of five lectures at Columbia University over a week in July and August that year and another at the Library Company of Philadelphia in January 1941.
By early April 1939 the family was installed at the Bacon home on Rhode Island, The Acorns, Peacedale. Aldington first met Bacon in Italy in 1930 and the friendship was revived during his 1935 visit to the United States. A member of a wealthy New England family, the Hazards, Bacon had met Martha his wife, known as Patty, when he was a young professor at the University of California at Berkeley and she the daughter of a Mathematics professor. They married in 1912 when she was 20 years old and he 25. He abandoned his academic career while still a young man in order to devote his time to writing poetry. He was also a translator of French and Spanish literature, and had translated one of Aldington's favourite texts, The Song of Roland. Both he and Patty had been analysands of Carl Jung and remained his friends. They had lived in Florence with their three small daughters from 1928 until 1932, when, disenchanted with the Fascist regime, they had returned to America. Patty herself was a talented musician, painter and writer of children's stories, but she was shy and retiring and had never had any work published or paintings exhibited.
The Acorns, Peacedale, Rhode Island, home of the Bacon family
The Aldington family had landed in heaven. The kindness and generosity of their hosts overwhelmed them. Aldington told Slonimsky:
About forty yards from the dwelling here is the library, one vast room with a lofty roof and big stone fire-place. Leonard Bacon works at one end and I at the other. There are several thousand books, and we have much pleasant literary talk. All this is a fine flower of civilisation, with that peculiar graciousness and sweetness of the New England character so striking to a European. There are three daughters, two at universities and one just graduated, and the happiness of the family is a delightful sight.... Catha has been the almost perfect baby here, and lives surrounded by admiring females. She scarcely ever cries and smiles benevolently on all.
They had brought with them from New York a nanny for Catha: Zita Zimenstark, a Jewish refugee medical student from Austria whom Willert had referred to them. Now Aldington set about obtaining Slonimsky's help in getting her parents to England. The Aldingtons were assured of a home for the immediate future: they were to stay for a month at The Acorns, before borrowing, rent-free, two Hazard family homes, one in Saunderstown for eight weeks, and then The Scallop Shell at Peacedale for a further three months. At the end of June they would have a week's gap between the two homes, a week which Catha spent at The Acorns with her nanny and the adoring Bacon household, while Aldington and Netta toured New England.
(top and bottom) Leonard Bacon in his library at The Acorns, Peacedale, in the 1940s
Henry Slonimsky
The Saunderstown house was on a small private road in half-wild country looking over a slope to Narragansett Bay, with Connecticut Island opposite. The tangled woodland and its wildlife were a joy to Aldington. 'I have not felt so tranquil and happy for a long time. With all its faults and toughness this country seems like a paradise after Europe,' he wrote to Warman. Their stay was also the opportunity for a reunion with James and Mildred Whitall, (close friends of Aldington and H.D. from before the war) whose young son, born in London, was now fifteen years old. The playwright Basil Dean spent a weekend with Aldington at Saunderstown looking into the possibility of creating a stage version of Seven Against Reeves; ever since the failed attempt to have Life of a Lady produced, Aldington had hankered after staging one of his works. Meanwhile, periodical publication proved almost as fruitless an avenue as academic employment. Atlantic Monthly gave him the task of reviewing Finnegan's Wake and followed up by commissioning an article on Norman Douglas; he also wrote a piece on Lawrence for the Saturday Review of Literature, followed by one on Imagism and one on Shelley, and two articles for Esquire, but no regular reviewing offer was forthcoming.
Shortly before leaving Europe, he had moved from Doubleday, Doran to Viking, where his old friend Pascal Covici, formerly of Covici, Friede, had moved in 1938. His final publications with Doubleday were Seven Against Reeves and an appreciation of Somerset Maugham. Rejected Guest, his new novel, was published by Viking (and by Heinemann in the UK) in the autumn of 1939. Bacon, who had recently completed his memoirs, suggested that Aldington write his own. Harold Guinzberg, chairman of Viking, was open to the idea and by early October Aldington had negotiated with Atlantic Monthly to publish a series of articles under the title 'Farewell to Europe', which would form the basis of the memoirs. He would be paid $1,000 for each of the four instalments. In January 1940 Viking approached him about a further project: an anthology of English poetry, comparable to the Oxford Book of English Verse, but with a larger selection of American poets. Compiling this would occupy a great deal of his time over the next two years. Viking gave him a three-year contract for two non-fiction works and a novel, advancing him $7,500 on the novel and the memoirs and committing $40,000 for the anthology project.
Bacon had suggested scriptwriting as another source of income and Aldington had a short correspondence with the Hollywood agent Alvin Manuel between April and July 1940. Hoping that he might obtain a commission which could be combined with his work on the anthology, the memoirs and the as-yet unplanned novel, Aldington enquired: 'Can you tell me what hours must be worked in a studio and if an energetic person who dislikes cocktail parties would be able to get other work done.' Manuel had two proposals: the first was from Alexander Korda, an offer of $1,000 for a 12,000-word story; the second was from the actor-director Kenneth McKenna for a Cyrano de Bergerac script. Aldington had a short interview with McKenna, but neither offer came to anything.
While at Peacedale Aldington heard from H.D. Replying to her letter, he apologised for his failure to pay any of the divorce fees. '[L]awyers, doctors and Patmores between them' had used up all his savings and, with 'all the upsets and events', he had taken over a year to write Seven Against Reeves. With his most recent novel soon to be published, he was more hopeful of restoring his income – and of paying H.D. what he owed her. (In fact, Rejected Guest would sell only 6,000 copies in America and Aldington would never repay H.D.) He gave her news of Catha:
a very healthy young woman, with blue eyes and dark hair, and singularly like the photographs of me at her age. She is just beginning to say words and to totter about holding onto her pen, and creeps with incredible energy. She is an amiable infant and very little trouble. I like her very much indeed.
In a further letter, he enclosed a photograph of his daughter, telling H.D.: 'I am selfish enough to believe that she loves me more than anyone else in the world, because that is how I feel about her!' There is no mention of Netta in this – or any – correspondence. He does, however, mention Slonimsky: '[He] is still fascinating and eloquent, but has unfortunately abandoned greek philosophy for rabbinical theology. A sense of loyalty to his people, I suppose, but quite ridiculous for a man of his gifts.... His life is dignified and uncorrupted by the prevalent yahooism. But what a waste!'
He was able to give her news of another mutual acquaintance:
I didn't see Ezra. He arrived in New York, gave out (rather courageously, considering the anti-Fascist feeling here) a number of pro-Fascist interviews and then, as he would say, 'vanished into the hinterland' with his buddy, e e cummings. I haven't the faintest idea where he is – Idaho maybe. I believe he lectured at Harvard, and rather perplexed the students.
Pound was in America from late April until July 1939, ostensibly to receive an honorary doctorate from his old university, Hamilton College, but principally to proclaim his economic doctrine as loudly and influentially as he could. To this end he visited Harvard and Yale and sought interviews with a variety of senators. A reporter on the New York Sun, one of the many who awaited his arrival in New York, wrote: 'Literature... is now a minor theme in the Poundish symphony.... Immediately the talk turns to economics, propaganda, and to what he calls "left-wing Fascists in Italy".'
On 3 September Britain declared war on Germany. 'All that we have hoped and worked for has gone, perhaps never to return,' Aldington wrote to Slonimsky:
There seems to be nothing worth living for. There can be no 'winning' in this war. There will simply be chaos.... If men could have learned wisdom and co-operation they would have learned it from 1914-18. They didn't, and perhaps the death warrant of the whole species is already signed. At the best we have entered another Dark Ages.
His first thoughts, however, were for his friends in Europe, H.D. (in Switzerland, while Perdita was in England) and the recently divorced Eric Warman. He was also anxious about his own circumstances; more than half his earnings were from English and continental royalties. By late September he had moved to New York, writing to Bacon: 'Those six months in and near Peacedale have been amongst the happiest in my life. Nothing I can say or do can ever repay what I owe you.' On the same day he told Slonimsky: 'Things base and petty wither away when you are near. The strange thing is that you seem quite unaware of your own grandeur.' He knew that he was exceptionally fortunate in these two friendships and wanted the two men to meet.
He was relieved to hear from H.D. at the end of October. Basle, she told him, was like a garrison town and one could not switch on the radio without hearing Berlin propaganda; despite the beauty of the lakes and mountains at this time of year, she was desperate to get back to her flat in Lowndes Square. Aldington wrote back:
How can this struggle result in anything but an all around collapse, financial, economic, political, cultural? The war against Hitlerism will probably result in Bolshevising Europe, including England. Suppose at the cost of enormous sacrifices they do clean up Hitler, what are they going to do about Stalin? And Mussolini? And the Japanese? And what earthly reason is there to suppose that people and governments will be any wiser, more tolerant and constructive after this war than they were after the last?
His anxiety was affecting his work on the commissioned memoirs:
Abstractly I feel so crushed by the European debacle that I should like to evaporate quietly with a bottle of chloroform.... [but] I realise that I must devote myself to Netta and Catherine. For myself, I have thrown away ambition, and it is a purification.... I still have 2,000 dollars left of my depleted savings, and 850 dollars promised for occasional lectures in 1940. On this we can live for more than a year.
By May 1940, he had found coping strategies, telling Slonimsky:
I think it a mistake for us, you and me especially, to take upon ourselves too heavily vicarious responsibility for the war and its conduct. Where there is no power there can be no responsibility beyond obedience to lawful authority. We must not delude ourselves into thinking that we are called upon to hold the train on the tracks. We have our own work to do and should do it as well and as long as we can, and when the time comes when we must abandon it to fight, eh bien, mourrons.... When I am called on, I will go, but until then I will do my own work, and in no event will I acquiesce mentally in war. Moreover, I shall endeavour to survive, to bear witness of this tragical and futile criminality.
He would return to this position frequently in his dialogue with Slonimsky. 'I am responsible to the extent that everyone in a shipwreck is bound to lend a hand as cheerfully and energetically as possible,' he would write in August 1942, 'but I am not "responsible" for running the ship on the rocks, nor have I any responsibility for getting it off since I am not a ships officer nor entrusted with any power.' We might wonder whether it was Slonimsky or himself he was trying to convince. Certainly, in postwar Britain there would be some resentment towards those – like Huxley, Auden, Isherwood and Aldington – who spent the war safely in the United States.
Nevertheless, the fall of his beloved France was a terrible shock. Sometime afterwards he composed an undated (and unpublished) long essay entitled 'The Horn of Roland' which must have constituted for him a major therapeutic exercise:
[A]cross the centuries the sound of Roland's horn has come to have a symbolical meaning – the call for aid of civilised France when she is hard pressed by the barbarian hordes. The [sic] heard the horn of Roland sounding desperately in 1914, and again more and more insistently in 1918; and each time it was answered. But in 1940, when we heard it sounding with such bitter notes of appeal and warning, it was not answered; and the chivalry of France went down before the machine.
In the crash of that ruin, which stunned the civilised world, it seemed as if Roland's olifant were silenced for ever. But no! The vitality of France is inextinguishable. Very faintly at first, but in these last few days, more and more loudly, the horn of Roland sounds once more.
Shall it go unanswered, and be extinguished for ever?
The essay goes on to argue that 'with all its faults, the French republic was infinitely worth saving':
In the course of centuries France had evolved the most nearly perfect way of life known in Europe since Renaissance Italy; but unlike the Renaissance despots, France did not seek to bar the people from the good life; on the contrary, the Republic wished them to share in it. Yet this democracy never degenerated into the fatal error of cultivating the moron. 'Français, respectez vos élites.' While all the essential rights of the common man were jealously guarded, the Republic never sought to destroy the instinctive respect of Frenchmen for the natural aristocracy of talent.... Moreover, the prudent economy of France, with its balance of industry and agriculture, its avoidance of reckless over-population, averted the widespread destitution so unavoidable in overindustrialised countries.
The piece concludes with its author placing his hopes in the Royal Air Force, the Royal Navy and 'the determination of subject continental peoples to oppose the usurper by passive resistance and timely revolts': 'If they fail, we shall not see again in France or in Europe the kind of life which to us alone seems worth living.' The essay represents the most explicit expression in Aldington's work of his passion for the European tradition and for the culture of France.
Meanwhile, New York once more proved too distracting – and expensive, and in mid-June 1940 he retreated to Connecticut, as he and Patmore had done in 1935, renting a cottage in Old Lyme, only five hundred yards from Brockway Manor and 'situated', he told Slonimsky, 'in country which has quiet beauty in spite of the neglect, and emigration of the old families'. He was arranging to give a home to Warman's eightyear-old daughter Jean, although Warman would finally decide against evacuating the child. Netta's widowed mother, now living in Jamaica, was a guest in Connecticut in the early autumn, as were the Slonimskys. 'I shall never forget what true and loyal friends you and Miriam have been during this last difficult year,' Aldington wrote to Slonimsky in July. He missed their intellectual dialogue although much of it continued in their letters. The topic was often religion or the war but he also wanted to talk about the Connecticut landscape:
[This is] the America of powerful forests, rocks, rivers, beautiful but violent, a harsh land that was conquered by indomitable courage and energy. The men who civilised this land had dreadful limitations, but they were magnificent. All this land needs is to be loved. It has been conquered by the iron-willed pioneers and exploited by their successors, but now if it is to be loved and treated as men treat the soil they love, it will be of great beauty.
However, after four months he moved to Washington, ostensibly so that he could make use of the Library of Congress to help him compile the remainder of the Viking anthology. This seems not to have been the only, or even principal, reason for the move, since in Connecticut he had access to the resources of Yale. In April 1941 he told H.D.: 'We got into a rather stuffy upper-class set in New England (and you know what that means) which made [Netta] restive.' He also remarked on how much cheaper rent and living expenses were in the south. He would tell Violet Schiff, resuming correspondence with her in 1949, that it was in the autumn of 1940 that 'our best time began'. He may have been referring to the new sense of economic security that he felt at this time, with the memoirs completed (and appearing in serial form in Atlantic Monthly) and the anthology well underway; he may have been alluding to the scope of his travels during that year and, in particular, to his appreciation of Florida (where they would move in March 1941); but what is notable is that that autumn was the beginning of a period when the family was independent and self-sustaining. Looking back several years later, he clearly saw it as having been a magical time.
On 5 November 1940 he saw Franklin Roosevelt driving from the station to the White House, 'looking very well and cheerful', and expressed to Slonimsky his 'immense relief' at the president's election success: 'a demonstration that democracy is not wholly foolish and corrupt'. Nevertheless, he was anxious about the complacency and optimism of American opinion and afraid that France would make a deal with Hitler. Work on the anthology accomplished by the end of February 1941, he moved once more – travelling via some of Netta's friends in Martinsburg, West Virginia, down the Shenandoah Valley and through North and South Carolina and Georgia to the west coast of Florida, where he took a cottage on Jamay Beach, Nokomis, 70 miles south of Tampa. He was shocked by the poverty he saw in the southern states, telling Slonimsky: 'I have seen nothing so bad in the worst parts of Europe.... The Carolinas and Georgia are riddled with malaria... the villages are without schools, churches or doctors, and the conditions of the negroes and poor whites is appalling. Rags and emaciation.'
Florida was different, 'prosperous with tourists and residential rentiers'. He described their new home in a letter to Warman:
We are on a long narrow island, joined to the mainland by two bridges over a narrow creek which opens into a large lagoon. The cottage is about thirty yards from the Gulf of Mexico, and behind it is a sandy stretch of land with palmettos, palms, southern pines, and mangroves along the edge of the lagoon.
D.H. Lawrence's ranch-house at Kiowa Ranch, Taos, New Mexico
He told H.D. that they had 'a nice little cottage with all the American gadgets' and a wooden hut, with shelves and a desk, for him to work in. Catherine, he told her, 'well and sunburned and beginning to say "cute" things', was enjoying life in Florida very much, 'running on the sands, bathing and picking up shells, and playing with another little girl'.
In late May they set off for New Mexico, having arranged with Frieda Lawrence to rent Lawrence's three-roomed ranch-house on the lower slopes of the Lobo Mountains near San Cristobal, 20 miles north of Taos. It was a journey of over 2,000 miles, by way of Tallahassee, Mobile, New Orleans, San Antonio, Del Rio, El Paso and Santa Fe, a journey which Aldington described in a lengthy letter to Frere. His daughter would recall in later years that in their long journeys across the United States the luggage was stacked in the back of the old Buick to form an even surface on which she could play or go to sleep – or, looking through the back window, watch the road unroll.
Lawrence had lived at Kiowa Ranch for six months in 1924 and a further five in 1925. 8,600 feet above sea level, the site was not habitable in winter. Frieda had returned to Kiowa with Angelo Ravagli in 1933 and they had built themselves a home alongside the ranch-house. In 1935 Ravagli had returned to Europe to have Lawrence's body exhumed and cremated so that his ashes could be interred in a specially built chapel at Kiowa.
The Lawrence chapel at Kiowa Ranch
Aldington told Frere that Frieda was 'still amazingly her old self, and though well over 60 as full of zest and energy as ever'. Ravagli was 'a little man, a bit like Pino, but without Pino's wit or vices – a bit dull, but very conscientious and industrious'. In Taos Aldington heard little talk of the war: 'They simply don't believe that anything that happens outside the U.S., and principally their own state, can have the slightest effect on them.' For Catherine, the whole experience, including Frieda's livestock collection of three horses, a cow and calf and a pig, was an exciting adventure, and Aldington expressed his sympathy with Frere, who was temporarily separated from his own wife and children, evacuated to America in the summer of 1940.
In the tiny hut where two years earlier Huxley had written his pacifist treatise, Ends and Means, Aldington worked on the indexes for the Viking Anthology. Fifty yards away, on the slope behind him, was the simple memorial chapel. In an unpublished essay written at the time, he recorded his vivid sense of his friend's presence:
Few remember better than I that mysterious gift Lawrence possessed of making life around him seem exciting and wonderful, as if in his world the very air were not common air but pure oxygen, where everything glowed and vibrated with more intense colour and vivacity. Up here I am constantly reminded of him – the bed I sleep in he made, on the rough stone seat by the hearth still lies the little rope mat he wove; the first thing I see from the porch in the morning is the great pine he loved so much, and from everywhere you catch glimpses of that intensely silent and peaceful little chaple [sic].
Strange resting place, if indeed it is the last resting place, for the ashes of the 'common' Derbyshire coal-miner's son, ashes which seem to share the restless wanderlust of the living man, having already journeyed so many thousand miles over sea and land. Strange but most fortunate among the many literary exiles of England who lie buried in other lands. I think of the graves of Landor and Elizabeth Browning in what is now a dullish Florentine suburb, of Keats and Shelly [sic] in the little Roman cemetery, of Fielding in Lisbon. They cannot compare with the serenity and majesty of Lawrence's burial place, where the extreme simplicity of the grave is so right....
I come out of my New Mexican shack and look about me. There in the sunlight stands so quietly the grave of the English poet, with above it the white phoenix which he chose as his emblem....
I turn and look, as I look nearly every hour of the changing day, over the vast New Mexican landscape, with its ring of majestic mountains and the desert cut by the vast winding canyon of the Rio Grande, which from here looks very much like the No Man's Land of the last war as seen from a distant height.
Yet he did not feel inspired by the 'stupendous vistas' and reflected that Lawrence himself had not written much here apart from 'a few short stories and poems, one or two sketches of the Indians and the play "David"': 'Landscape on too tremendous a scale seems to check rather than stimulate the human urge to be doing and making with the mind and hands.' He was neglecting the fact that Lawrence's New Mexico output had included the novellas St Mawr and The Woman Who Rode Away (both of which he had included in his 1935 Lawrence selection, The Spirit of Place) and such essays as 'The Hopi Snake Dance' and 'Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine', all powerfully imbued with Lawrence's sense of the place. Lawrence himself would write towards the end of his life:
[F]or a greatness of beauty I have never experienced anything like New Mexico. All those mornings when I went with a hoe along the ditch to the Canon, at the ranch, and stood, in the fierce, proud silence of the Rockies, on their foothills, to look far over the desert to the blue mountains away in Arizona, blue as chalcedony, with the sage-brush desert sweeping grey-blue in between, dotted with tiny cube-crystals of houses, the vast amphitheatre of lofty, indomitable desert, sweeping round to the ponderous Sangre de Cristo mountains on the east, and coming up flush at the pine-dotted foot-hills of the Rockies! What splendour!... Those that have spent morning after morning alone there pitched among the pines above the great proud world of desert will know, almost unbearably, how beautiful it is, how clear and unquestioned is the might of the day.... Ah, yes, in New Mexico the heart is sacrificed to the sun and the human being is left stark, heartless, but undauntedly religious.
An additional problem was that the altitude of Kiowa affected the health of the whole family, particularly Netta, who was experiencing pains in her lungs. ('Whoever persuaded a TB patient to try to live here must have wanted to kill him,' Aldington remarked drily in his letter to Frere.) By August 1941 they were back in Florida, although they had planned to stay at the ranch until October. 'I think of you both very often and of the famous ranch which I am glad to have seen,' Aldington wrote to Frieda:
It is a beautiful place, and I am so sorry that we got upset by the altitude. You were both so good to us – and so sweet with Catherine.... [She] is very well and enjoys her sea bathing and running about the place, though she regrets Anita and the piggy. 'Where's Angie?' she asks about milking time. And in the morning: 'Shall we go and see Frieda?' To console her we say that you and Angie will come and see her here one of these days.
The anthology was published in September. It had been chosen as the book of the month by the Literary Guild of America, which took 60,000 copies, yielding him $2,000. The total first impression was 100,000, but he would receive only seven cents per copy for the first 30,000 straight sales (and fourteen cents thereafter) as the book had been massively expensive for Viking to produce. Now he had to find another project. He had no inspiration for the novel he was committed to deliver. Instead he contemplated writing an historical biography. The Duke of Wellington, military saviour of Great Britain, seemed an appropriate choice at this moment in history. The most recent work on the subject was Philip Guedalla's 1931 biography, but Guedalla was not a soldier and Aldington prided himself on having an infantryman's understanding of military strategy. He had also, though less than Guedalla, some acquaintance with the battlefields of the Peninsular War. His attraction to Wellington as a subject was also rooted in his own childhood: Wellington, as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, had been the occupant of Walmer Castle between 1829 and his death in 1852, and therefore a respected figure in local folk memory when Aldington was growing up.
Frieda Lawrence (centre) with Mabel Dodge Luhan (left) and Dorothy Brett (right) at Kiowa Ranch, 1938
At first sight Wellington does not seem to be a character with whom we might expect Aldington to feel sympathy. He was, to quote the latter's introduction:
a fox-hunting aristocrat of the Protestant Ascendancy in Ireland, a Dublin Castle man, an Anglo-Indian, a professional soldier with a laugh like a horse with whooping cough, a martinet who opposed the abolition of army flogging and unpardonably described his men as 'the scum of the earth', a Tory who fought the Reform Bill of 1832 to the death and opposed many of the long overdue changes in England, a prodigious collector of titles, orders and monetary rewards.
However, Aldington argues:
The curious thing is not that he was a Tory, but that on the whole he was sensible enough to hold staunchly to the belief that even the Tory party must yield to the constitutional will of the people [and] [a]s a soldier he considered himself a public servant independent of party politics and owing obedience to any lawful government.
Furthermore: '[N]ever once in his long career did he use his power or persuasion to advance his money interests.' He believed Wellington to have possessed the qualities he most admired (and the absence of which had been the constant target of his fictional satires): 'strong common sense, honesty, integrity, unceasing hard work'. Perhaps most importantly of all: '[H]e was a successful soldier who disliked war, a conqueror who never acquired Napoleon's cynical disregard for human life, and [who] earnestly worked for peace.'
As soon as he began his research, he was fired up with enthusiasm, writing to Bacon:
It is amazing to find in 1808-14 many of the phenomena we deplore or rage against today – the unscrupulous enemy (and Boney was very unscrupulous, a real preview of Schicklgruber), the fifth columnist, the rash or silly journalist, the slick politician, the wild rushes of public opinion, delays in 'war production', inflation, sinkings of merchant marine &c. &c.... The heartening thing to remember is that Boney had 375,000 troops in Spain, Wellington never more than 40,000 English, 30,000 Portuguese and 20,000 Spaniards. Of course the resistance of the Spanish people & guerrillas was all important. In the earlier stages he was as short of cavalry as the boys this time have been short of planes. And he had to conduct his first (unsuccessful) sieges with too few Engineers, because the Duke of York disapproved of them
The Bacons were spending 1942 in a New York hotel while Bacon worked on a military dictionary for the US Army. The two men corresponded regularly with support and advice for each other's projects. Aldington began to discover how hard it was, first to establish exactly what happened in a battle, and then to condense it into a few paragraphs. As with his Voltaire in 1925, his research was exhaustive – and exhausting. Bacon would have to be particularly supportive in July 1942 when he felt inclined to drop the project altogether, having decided that the whole of his Peninsular War section – 150 pages and three months' work – needed rewriting before he could even embark on the rest of Wellington's 37 years. His problem, as he explained to Marshall Best, his editor at Viking Press, was that he had written the Peninsular War as military history; the section would not interest the general reader and needed to be recast in the personal tone of the rest of the book.
He was also making a minor contribution to the war effort, as a volunteer Deputy Sheriff patrolling the coast at night to guard against the infiltration of enemy agents from Cuba. His Florida paradise continued to be a delight. In another unpublished essay, he wrote:
[B]y a curious paradox, October here is much richer and more lively than April; for autumn follows hard on the warm summer rains and spring must struggle with the long winter drought. The golden-rod blooms in April, but most of the richer flowers in the autumn.... [Here] in south Florida the dawns are... a robust and vivid gold; you can feel the warmth of the huge dazzling sun the moment the horizon rolls beneath him.... To one born under the usually pallid skyscape of England, there is always a feeling of privilege and exultation in watching the tremendous surge of golden light from a cloudless sky.
He was also aware of how healthy a life this was for his daughter, telling Bacon in March 1942 how 'amazingly well' she was, 'a rosy-cheeked little ragamuffin who seems to enjoy life'.
Yet even here he could not forget the international conflict, and the Florida essay continues:
While the days have passed here so peacefully, with such beauty of sea, sky and earth that the mere act of living seems an inestimable gift, those energetic northern States we are bidden to admire have done a lot of destructive work. If it were possible for us to realise as clearly as if we actually witnessed them all the violent deaths, torture and misery happening, we should be appalled. Mercifully, we are unable to do it, yet the little we can imagine is sufficient to poison the days, and to leave us restless, unhappy and inapt for concentration.
A shocking personal reminder of the war in Europe came in October 1941 when he read in the American journal, The Nation, that 'in his radio broadcast from Rome Ezra Pound has called on the negroes to revolt against "the white Jew Roosevelt"'. 'I find that really horrible in all its implications,' he told Slonimsky:
a sickening degradation of a human spirit who once meant a good deal to me and to you. I remember that young American when he was first in London, his apparent vitality, his amusing sayings, his intense enthusiasms, his real charm and generosity, his gifts. He seemed so much more alive than his English contemporaries, the Georgians. Was all this a sham? Or can it be that mere rancour, the disappointment of comparative failure, can lead a man to such Judas depths?
Meanwhile his southern paradise turned out to have its drawbacks. He had told Frere in October 1941 that he would hang on in Florida as long as possible, but by July 1942 he had decided to move to California, partly because petrol-rationing was making life difficult but also because the only school Catherine could attend was closing down and because there was no company for Netta. 'I hate to leave here, a place I like as well as anywhere I've ever been,' he wrote to Bacon, 'but it's not the place for Catherine or Netta. Venice and Sarasota are practically deserted settlements, and I really believe Netta has seen nobody to talk to for several months.' He told Warman that he 'groan[ed] in spirit at having to leave this beautiful lonely shore,' but had realised that it was wrong to keep Netta and Catherine there 'during their youth', a surprising bracketing together of his wife and daughter which demonstrates his consciousness of the age gap between them and himself, as well as his determination to give them the best life he could.
### 13. A New Life Hollywood 1942-1946
In late July and early August 1942 Aldington spent a fortnight in Boulder, Colorado, as 'General Adviser' to the thirteenth Rocky Mountains Writers' Conference, and from here he wrote to Manuel, his Hollywood agent, who was now hopeful of finding him studio work, asking for advice on where to live in California: 'somewhere more bohemian than bourgeois and without frills'. He had, he told Manuel, sufficient funds to live modestly for two to three years. Now that younger writers were likely to be called up for the draft, he thought his prospects of studio employment quite high.
In late August, the rewriting of the Peninsular Wars completed, books and possessions packed up and sent ahead, he and his family set off from Nokomis, only eighteen months after their arrival there. They reached Los Angeles in mid-September, having driven from Florida by way of a stop-off in Boulder. During the 3,000-mile journey, Aldington had studied the sample scripts and treatments he had asked Manuel to send him; with him, he also carried his own playscripts, Life of a Lady and My Wife Won't Let Me (the dramatisation of Seven Against Reeves), less as possible film material than to demonstrate his scriptwriting skills to a potential employer. One surprise awaiting him in California was a reunion with the Glovers, who had been living in Berkeley since the beginning of the year. Having left France in 1938, they had continued their travels, first to Cuba, then to Mexico, South Carolina and New England. They had been passing through the Panama Canal in December 1941 when the Japanese struck at Pearl Harbour.
Aldington took to Hollywood at once. He told Eskell: 'It is much more civilised than New York and the climate is perfect.' He rented an apartment at 8349 Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood, within easy reach of the main studios, and in late October began work on an open-ended contract with Paramount Studios at $500 a week. This lasted only a month, as the studio cancelled their plans to make the film for which he was developing a treatment, an adaptation of Maugham's most recent novel, The Hour Before the Dawn. He was undaunted, telling Warman at the end of the year about the perfect climate, the wide tree-lined streets (with their excellent second-hand bookshops) and the wonderful views over Los Angeles. He hoped that his friend would move to Hollywood after the war: 'Believe me, this Pacific coast of America is not only beautiful and unbelievably rich, but many people think it will be one of the great creative centers [sic] after the war – and I am inclined to agree.... I wish I had come here twenty years ago. Whatever happens I shall never return to Europe.' Turning to the war, he told Warman how delighted he was to hear of the victory of the Eighth Army at El Agheila on 11 December, although he doubted his friend's optimistic forecast that the war would end in 1943.
Nonetheless, he went on to tell Warman: 'I can't claim to be a hell of a success myself, but I've been unwell until recently, and then I've been too sharp-tongued in defending England against all and sundry!' His concerns about his state of health – emotional and physical – crop up in other correspondence in late 1942 and early 1943. He told Eskell that he had done a month's work at Paramount 'and spent the rest of the time being rather unwell and depressed'. He apologised to Bacon at the start of 1943 for not having written for a long while: 'I have failed to write, not because I have not thought of you often and affectionately, but because I have been unwell, depressed and discontented; and it is an elementary duty of friendship not to inflict such moods and whims on others.' To Slonimsky a fortnight later he confided: 'I have felt too harassed, too dismal to feel that I dared write. Why should I depress you with my pessimism, my feeling that the war is going to end in a vastly magnified version of the humbug and self-seeking and general collapse as the last war?' In a subsequent letter he told Slonimsky: 'If I were not worried to death and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I should be very happy here.' This paradox of feeling both pleased with the move to Hollywood and yet anxious and depressed is a recurrent motif.
Fortunately, his wife and daughter were happy. Aldington told Slonimsky that Catha was 'very well and strong' and attending an excellent private nursery school which she liked so much that she complained about having to take holidays. She also belonged to a 'Girls' Club', which took her on picnics, to the ice- and roller-skating rinks, and on other expeditions, while riding on Shetland ponies seemed to her 'one of the most important aspects of her life'; he told Eskell that she was also being invited to 'extravagant parties' given by the children of movie executives. Meanwhile, Netta was enrolled in an art school and enjoying the opportunity to develop her own talents.
The war was clearly a contributory factor to Aldington's state of mind, but, as so frequently in his career, much of his stress was caused by financial anxieties. He told Bacon in June 1943 that, despite having published Rejected Guest, Life for Life's Sake and the Viking anthology in his four years in the United States, the loss of European sales had left him struggling financially and he was now living off the money he had brought with him (Netta's inheritance) in 1939. 'I am delighted with California and my little family,' he told his friend, 'but here is this infernal difficulty of getting the right work done in a changing peculiar epoch.... I think I bet correctly with Wellington... but you can see how one might easily waste a year's work by doing something for which the cultivated public would feel no interest.' He was searching for the subject for the next biography. His first choice was the American artist James Whistler. Manuel was now his literary, as well as his screenwriting, agent and the two of them considered that this was a biography that could be written with the screen in mind. 'Treating a biography as a comedy is something of an experiment, I admit,' Aldington wrote, 'but I see numerous possibilities.' Nevertheless, the project was abandoned.
He had certainly 'bet correctly' with The Duke, which he had completed to his satisfaction by the end of February 1943: when it was published in October of that year, it sold 9,000 copies in the first three weeks, netting him $4,600 in royalties. He told Warman that Viking had offered him a large advance for another biography and that his success had attracted wider interest: Hollywood bookshops were displaying the book; the Chicago Daily News had asked for an article; and he had received an invitation to speak at the Los Angeles Book Fair. By the end of November 21,000 copies had been printed.
Now more studio work started to come in. Manuel obtained him an assignment with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer – this time at $1,000 a week – working on a screenplay of Robert Nathan's 1940 novel, A Portrait of Jennie. The job lasted less than two weeks, but in early December Warner Brothers offered him a contract – at $750 a week – to work on Karl Vollmöller's play, The Miracle. The film was to be a Technicolor musical. 'The life of writing for the movies is a strange one,' he told Bacon:
but I should be very glad if I could succeed. Far from being easy, it is a very difficult and specialised job, and most of those who have succeeded started young and gradually worked their way to the front. Unfortunately, the superstition of a reputation means that I have to start at the top and succeed at once, or not at all.
He told Warman in February 1944 that English writers were not very successful (although he was pleased to report that Huxley had just been given a screen credit for Jane Eyre and that James Hilton 'makes pots and everyone likes him'), and he put this down to the fact that they too obviously despised Hollywood and, mistakenly, thought screenwriting easy. 'The only way to avoid disaster' was to have some other means of earning a living which could be taken up or dropped at a moment's notice. He estimated that he had been employed for thirteen weeks of the eighteen months he had so far spent in Hollywood. He would have been 'in the soup' if The Duke hadn't been a success. However, he still had no intention of returning to Europe: 'America isn't perfection, but I've always liked it from the first day I landed, and I like it more now.'
His 75-page treatment for The Miracle met with approval and he was invited to write the screenplay. 'This means three or four months more of employment here, and if I can succeed in living up to the standard a new career, and not on fame and a shoe-string!' he wrote delightedly to Bacon. He told Slonimsky: 'People complain much of their treatment by the Hollywood studios. All I can say is that they have been both civil and patient, given me every chance to show what I can do, and making no bones about payment.'
Warner Brothers, however, was in turmoil; Aldington wrote to Bacon:
Two producers have left shaking their contracts behind them and writers have been sacked nearly every day. From being congested the Writers' Building now resembles a cloister after the passage of the Black Death. Actually it was more like Alice in Wonderland. The 'Colonel' sat on his peak in darrien [sic] and as he read each script shouted 'Off with his head!' Actually this massacre is a great relief to me, most of those dismissed being about the most poisonous little communists you ever set eyes on.
He would soon follow in their wake; he completed the screenplay by 27 April, but at this point the project was shelved. It had given him 20 weeks' employment. Warner Brothers did ask him to collaborate with the Welsh screenwriter Tom Job on a murder story but this job lasted only a few weeks.
Although Aldington had entered the studio system at a time when many American males were serving in the forces, it was also a period when production had been cut. The war had brought a boom in cinema-going and the Federal government, which had grasped the role the movies could play in propaganda and the boosting of national morale, was supportive of the industry, but the studios had discovered that they could maximise profits by making fewer but more prestigious films. Warner Brothers, for example, released 48 films in 1941 but in 1943 their output was only 21. In 1944 they made the further step of moving to a unit-production system, whereby the making of each film became almost autonomous, with its own producer, director, screenwriters, cast and technicians, not a set-up which facilitated access for new writers.
It is surprising to find no evidence of any meetings between Huxley and Aldington during the latter's Hollywood years, particularly given Aldington's respect for Huxley as a man and a writer and their shared interest in maintaining the reputation of Lawrence. Perhaps his awe of Huxley – and of his success as a screenwriter – made him diffident. However, at Warner Brothers he made friends with William Faulkner, whom he drove to work each morning. '[V]ery Southern, very shy, but pleasant,' he told Warman. The strongest friendship he established was with Frederick Faust, the highly successful pulp-fiction writer and Hollywood screenwriter, whose principal nom de plume was Max Brand.
Aldington contacted Faust as soon as he arrived in Hollywood, principally because Faust was a close friend – and former student – of Bacon. Indeed, Bacon and Faust had moved together to Florence in 1926, and Faust had only finally left his villa there in 1938. It is surprising to find no indication of Aldington's having met him during that period, despite his friendship with Bacon. The two men had a great deal in common. They were of the same age and both had experienced dysfunctional childhoods, although Faust's was unquestionably the more deprived. Both men had failed to graduate and felt that as a humiliation. Both had a passionate love of Italy, of beauty, of the classical and pagan worlds, but were prone to addictive behaviour, particularly with regard to sexual relationships, although Faust was also a drinker. His biographer (and son-in-law), Robert Easton, remarks that: 'Faust was quite capable of hurting other people, even those he loved. He was able to convince himself of the validity of almost any action he wanted to take.... His failure to understand the consequences of his actions... constituted one of his major shortcomings.' We might recognise the applicability of this assessment to Aldington. Each man saw something to admire in the other: while Aldington must have found Faust's vitality and huge commercial success enviable, Faust's own ambition was to be a serious and well-regarded poet.
The two men took to each other immediately. Easton tells us that, whereas Warner Brothers expected their writers to work from 8.00 a.m. until 5.00 p.m., Faust would arrive at about nine o'clock, 'complete his fourteen pages by about eleven and spend the rest of the day in having lunch or in agreeable conversations with Aldington or some other friend, or in pushing coins at a crack in the floor, a recognised pastime in the Writers' Building'.
There was one aspect of Aldington's life that Faust envied in particular: his war service. Faust had joined the Canadian Army's American Legion in 1915, but the Legion's existence was such an embarrassment to the US government that its departure for France was constantly delayed. Desperate to get to the front, Faust had deserted, travelled to New York and made unsuccessful attempts to enrol in the Volunteer Ambulance Service and then the British Army. Once America entered the war he was rejected for military service because of his need for varicocele surgery. He was finally accepted, post-surgery, in September 1918 but assigned to the Army Corps of Engineers in Virginia, where he contracted the Spanish flu. By 11 November 1918 he had just secured a transfer to the Infantry Branch.
Frederick Faust, early 1940s
When the United States entered the Second World War, Faust, now 50 years old and suffering from a fibrillating heart, was desperate to be involved, and arranged to be sent to the Italian Front as correspondent for Harper's Magazine and for a service magazine entitled The Infantry Journal. He would live with a platoon of combat infantry, in action and out. En route to the front, he wrote to his wife, Dorothy: 'I wish you would ring up Aldington and tell him that I miss him regularly. He was the one really green oasis in my California desert, and over here, where he knows everything so well, my thoughts keep turning to him.' On the night of 11 May 1944 he went into battle with E Company of the 2nd Battalion of 351st Infantry Regiment (88th Division), who were spearheading the attack on the village of Santa Maria Infante on the Gustave Line. In the early hours of 12 May he received a fatal wound in the chest from a shell fragment.
For Aldington, Faust's death was a great loss. He and Netta continued to keep in touch with Dorothy and her daughter, Jane Easton, and her two small daughters, who, along with Faust's younger daughter, Judy, were all living together in the Faust home in Burlingame Avenue, Los Angeles, while Jane's husband was fighting in France. In a letter to her husband written six months after Faust's death, Jane Easton mentioned that the Aldingtons had been to dinner at Burlingame Avenue. 'I do like him immensely,' she wrote, 'He is very well versed in all subjects, very sensitive, very aware. His only give-away is his immense despair with the world and humanity. He simply has no hope. I think that shows a weakness... [but] I do want you to meet him for his knowledge and his wit.'
Aldington's despair was partly driven by his personal circumstances. He returned to MGM in late August 1944 to work for five weeks on a treatment of Alec Waugh's 1941 novel, No Truce with Time, and entertained high hopes of being given the screenplay, but the film was never made. His view of the studios had undergone a change. 'It is a strange and hideous world,' he told Slonimsky. He felt that his own world had narrowed:
Apart from Netta and Catherine, my only interests are books (if they are not new), pictures (ditto) and Nature. I read biology and biography, poetry and essays.... I write trash here [at MGM] by day, go home and read Aeschylus.... I sometimes yearn for a little simple peace and silence.... I still keep my restive Pegasus hitched to the extraordinary and improbable movie wagon; but as I cannot write seriously in these disastrous times, it seemed sensible to try to earn and save a little money.
Meanwhile, Netta had undergone a tooth extraction in the course of which a bone had splintered; she had required (expensive) nursing care and been in extreme pain. Further bad news came with the revelation that Ralph Pinker (recently jailed for theft and fraud) had never paid tax on the money paid for the move rights of All Men Are Enemies. This had now to be paid, along with a weighty fine. May Aldington was also on the warpath. She had had a fall, breaking her arm, and therefore losing her job as a hotel receptionist. Aldington had to provide funds for his mother's care for a year (recorded on his tax return as $175) – funds which his sister Margery was careful to put in a bank account in her own name, to be paid out to her mother on a monthly basis for the twelve months. 'Perhaps I shall not hang on for all that time,' May wrote to her son, '& even if I do, I shall hope to be in some sort of work, & my dear, wonderful son, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that I shall not be cold or hungry again.' She reminded him that this had been his first communication for nearly two years.
One better piece of news was that Aldington's friend Lawrence Clark Powell, Librarian at the University of California at Los Angeles, was planning an exhibition of Aldington's work for November 1944, and Aldington wrote to all his American friends to ask for loans of books which he had given them down the years.
In September 1944 he told Manuel that he would not take on any studio work for the rest of the year. He was suffering from recurrent bacterial infections and needed time to develop an idea for a writing project, having written nothing since The Duke. In March 1945 the family had a short vacation trip to the Mojave Desert (a 500-mile round journey) where he was able to indulge his lifetime hobby of lepidoptery. It was, he told Bacon, his first venture outside the Los Angeles city limits in the whole two and a half years of their residence there. Unless petrol rationing had been too restrictive, it is hard to understand why this naturally curious man with a love of landscape who had driven his family the length and breadth of America since 1939 and who had not been continuously employed since he came to California, either in the studios or on his own writing projects, had confined himself in this way.
A letter to Slonimsky in mid-April 1945 paints a bleak picture:
I receive too many cold shoulders not to realise that what I have said is not wanted, nor anything I might say. Weeks, even months pass without my exchanging a word with anybody outside my family.... Days pass without my even receiving a letter.... People no longer like me either as a writer or as a person. I don't blame anybody – even myself – it is just a fact. If only I had a little income this wouldn't trouble me in the least... but a writer's living depends on reputation, and mine has vanished. That is my fault – I never bothered about it, never cultivated or flattered anyone. That was a mistake – I was too indolent and conceited.
Lawrence Clark Powell, 1950
It is a letter marked by self-pity but also by a reluctance to acknowledge what must have been his real fear: a decline in his creative powers.
As so often in his career, he compensated by throwing himself into a variety of projects demanding hard work and scholarship rather than originality. One was actually a novel, but a novel in which he had little belief, a fictional rendering of the life of Casanova, which he and Manuel conceived as a film project as well as a book. In March 1945 Marshall Best at Viking read the first part of the novel and rejected it. Columbia Pictures had bought the movie option for $10,000 and required the book to be published by a reputable New York publisher if they were going to proceed with it; Manuel placed it successfully with the young publishing company Duell, Sloan and Pearce. In addition to The Romance of Casanova ('this repulsive novel' he called it in a letter to Bacon), Aldington had taken on: a commission from Encyclopaedia Britannica to produce a poetry anthology of the Western world ('a long, arduous and underpaid job' he told Slonimsky); the preparation of an edition of Oscar Wilde for the Viking Press Portable Library imprint; and the writing of introductions to four French romances to be published together in translation by the Pilot Press in London. He also co-operated with Netta on a children's book, which never came to fruition, but she drew illustrations for his 1917 translation of Folgóre da San Gimignano's The Garland of Months and the book, entitled A Wreath for San Gemignano, was published by Duell, Sloan and Pearce. Aldington would tell his brother in April 1946 that it had been included in the US top 50 books of the year for production and illustration.
A few days at Santa Barbara in May visiting Dorothy Strauss, who had moved there to be near her daughter, allowed the family to recapture some of their Florida existence, swimming, walking the sands and collecting shells, but Aldington had generally adopted a punishing routine: a tenhour day, he told Warman in August. Even VE Day in May and VJ Day in August brought him little pleasure. 'It seems to me that America is in exactly the same position vis-à-vis Stalin that England and France were vis-à-vis Hitler in 1938,' he wrote to Bacon. 'You either keep giving in or you fight. Which will it be? I think I can guess.' He reacted to the landslide Labour victory in Britain in July with a scepticism towards socialism which would become more deeply entrenched as the years went by, and which would cause a rift between himself and Frere. 'This "nationalisation" is a mere nostrum. Atlee's share the wealth is really a share the poverty,' he told Warman. 'I agree with your base of despair, especially in view of the cult of the envious, stupid, ignorant, unteachable average man.' His advice was not to get involved: 'Once let yourself be bull-dozed into thinking you are responsible for the world – and that way madness lies.' He was certainly not contemplating a return to England, unlike the Glovers, who were planning to leave during the course of the coming year: 'I hate to lose them, but I shall stay here if I am not thrown out,' he told Bacon.
He had begun to put his British financial affairs in some order after the Pinker fiasco, by asking his brother to take charge of his existing contracts and to try to call in any royalties due. News from Heinemann at the end of the year seemed promising too: despite the paper shortages Frere thought it probable that the firm could publish The Duke and the Wilde selection in the spring of 1946 and The Romance of Casanova in the autumn. However, he was discouraging about the publishing prospects of Life for Life's Sake, a view which would become a fracture point in their relationship.
In early 1946, Herbert Read came on his first visit to America in order to give four lectures at Yale. He contacted Aldington, who was unable to travel east, busy as he was on the Casanova project at Columbia. As always with Read, and despite his disillusionment with Hollywood and his own career, Aldington could not resist the opportunity to boast:
Hollywood is really very pleasant, about the nicest congeries of town to live in I know.... [F]or intellectual life there is Mount Wilson to the north, Cal Tech at Pasadena... and to the West U.C.L.A. with its library (rapidly growing) of 500,000 books of which I have the free run at all times, the Librarian being a crony of mine. I admit the Museum is no great shakes, but there are good art schools, more shows of modern stuff than I can afford time to visit, and the best music. We have far more opera and ballet here than you have in London.
We get a picture of a busy cultural and social existence belied by his letters to his more intimate friends. As for his own career: 'I am not much good at present – my salary is only $1,000 a week – but I have a kind of obstinate hankering to master this infernal trade at which nearly all English writers fail.' In fact, he told Read, 'Your suggestion that I should return to Europe is rather like telling someone who, by dint of forethought and at some expense, has got a Pullman seat in a train deluxe to come frolic in an Hommes 40, Chevaux 8! Merci, mon prince!'
Hearing from H.D. – their first exchange of letters for nearly a year – that she was also coming to the United States shortly, to give a lecture at Bryn Mawr, her former college, he made more modest claims: 'I do a little work for the movies here from time to time, and like the climate very much.' The truth was that he had had enough of Hollywood: he thought it unlikely that Columbia would proceed with the Casanova project; he was subject to crippling taxes on past earnings; and future earnings looked precarious. Part of his anxiety stemmed from a conviction that Frere had misled him over Heinemann's commitment to publish his work. He heard from Arnold Gyde, Frere's deputy at Heinemann, that The Duke would not be published until June, despite Frere's earlier promise that it was scheduled for April. Aldington liked Gyde (although he had not met him in person) – both for the courteous tone of his letters and because he had been in military service during the war, but he was furious with Frere. He told his brother: 'I've been properly let down by a man who for years has professed the greatest friendship etc. What his motives are I don't profess to know.' He told Tony that he had given Gyde an ultimatum: publication of The Duke before May or it would go to Constable. A volatile phase in Aldington's relationship with Frere, which would last for the rest of their lives, had been set in train.
By mid-March, after what he told Bacon had been a bad dose of flu but described to Warman as a nervous collapse from overwork, he had decided on a move to Jamaica. He told his brother: 'We can batten on Netta's Mam during the coming famine. She has some land there, and very wealthy friends.... Even if we have to pay income tax in Jamaica it will be cheaper than here, believe me, and much pleasanter.' On 15 April he started to keep a diary: perhaps he thought that their journey would provide material he could use later as travel writing; or perhaps he felt that this move – more than the others over the past seven years – was a momentous one that required a record. If Columbia decided to proceed with Casanova, he would have to return; he clearly thought this unlikely. His entry for 22 April 1946, the last day before their departure, reads: 'Hollywood (44 months of it) has been a crucial experience, salutary perhaps, damaging perhaps, certainly profitable & certainly a place to leave!'
He drove to New Orleans via Palm Springs, Uma, Gilabad, Tucson, El Paso and San Antonio, a 2,200-mile journey. A vivid account of the experience appears in a letter he wrote to H.D. six years later:
On that Jeff Davis Highway between Orange and El Paso, there are stretches of 100 miles without even a shack. There is a motel at a little place called Marathon, just on the East side of the Great Divide, which is as remote as the moon.... From San Antonio to El Paso is close on 500 miles with nothing but a few motels and 'shack' towns. I remember Sierra Blanca, and the hugest sun I ever saw going down flaming crimson over the desert and the mountains turning blue. And Wyoming. I remember coming up from Boulder, Coloraydo [sic], to Laramie and Medicine Bow, and, stopping off at Rawlings, Wy., found a saloon with pictures of all the famous cattle brands of the West, and photos of all the famous hold-up men, including Calamity Jane. And they were very sweet to us, and gave us wonderful beef steaks, and whipped up ice-cream for Catha, and told us lots about cattle rustlers.
The truth, as revealed in the diary, is rather different. There were rewarding moments, for instance 29 April when the entry reads: 'ONE OF THE BEST – IF NOT THE BEST – DAYs of the trip... into the mountainous uplands of western Texas. – a tremendous almost uninhabited world of desert, mountains & cattle range which is most exhilarating.' However, such entries are the exception. Tucson was 'unpleasant', El Paso 'a dull American town'; 3 May was 'a longish day's drive through Louisiana with the squalor of the South in evidence'. The chief problem was his poor emotional and physical state; at the end of the second day of travelling, he contemplated abandoning the car and making the rest of the journey by train. Instead he rested for a day before continuing, but he had frightened himself. He blamed: '(A) overwork in Hollywood, particularly the last four months on the anthology; (B) the strain of anxiety, personal & over the war; (C) too little sleep, particularly on the nights of the 22nd and 23rd; (D) the narrow embankment road across the Yuma sand dunes.' 'Feel better for the rest,' he concluded, 'but hope for an easy ride tomorrow. We should now go slowly & rest a day. I am certainly more exhausted nervously than at any time since the end of the last war, & in flabby physical condition.'
The journey became his final disillusionment with his American dream. On 27 April as he arrived in Deming, New Mexico, he wrote: '[O]ne's nerves grow raw with the continual vulgarity of America, the gross coarse food, the gum-chewing coarse-faced people, the vile trashy periodicals & "books".' He noticed, too, 'as far west as Uvalde', the many cafes with their 'Coloured patronage not solicited' notices. 'Sweet land of liberty,' he observed drily. By the time he reached New Orleans ('much more interesting and alive than any town to the west') he was writing: 'This journey has been a test of endurance,' but also: 'I shall be very glad to get out of this country after 7 years of it & hope to goodness I never see it again.' A few days earlier he had written: 'How thankful I am that I have resisted all pressure to naturalise!' It was a very different judgement from the one he had given Read only three months earlier.
On 10 May 1946 they flew from New Orleans via Tampa and Miami to Havana, where Netta's mother met them before the final leg of their journey to Jamaica. After two days of rest and sightseeing in Kingston, they took a 'long, dirty and tiring' train journey to Montego Bay, where they set up a temporary home in the Chatham Hotel. Rest, swimming, observing marine life through a glass-bottomed boat and relishing the peacefulness 'after that raucous America' became the order of the day, but the social attentions of the expatriate community soon became oppressive. The incompetent bureaucratic processes which had to be endured over the next few weeks, necessitating visits to Kingston in order for them to retrieve their car and luggage, including Aldington's library, also became frustrating. Stranded in Kingston, Aldington wrote in his diary on 27 May: 'This whole Jamaica trip has become a financial disaster, with the threat of malaria and typhoid and the impossibility of finding somewhere else to go.' The following day he had an acute attack of dysentery from 'over-exertion in the heat, coupled with the annoyance and indignity of the whole proceedings'. Back in Montego Bay a coastal drive produced the entry: 'Picturesque enough country, but somehow rather meaningless to me in my present mood.' A puncture and meeting yet more 'dull people' had not helped.
By 2 June he was writing: 'Netta and I have decided we not only can't live here but must leave as soon as possible.' He told Warman: 'It is a great relief to be out of the U.S. – both of us were about at the end of our power of endurance of the raucous bastards,' but continued:
Aldington publicity photograph, 1946
Jamaica is rather a disappointment – turns out to be very hot and muggy, malarious, and politically a kind of negro republic flying the Union Jack. The people are mostly lazy, and the big idea is to wangle loans and grants from England. It has the depressing quality of derelict countries – the old sugar estates gone to hell, the coconuts dying of one disease and the bananas of another. The scenery is very beautiful, so are the Mediterranean colours of the sea, and the bathing A1. But we are constantly scared of malaria for Catherine, and there are too few white people to make any society.... [T]he only tolerable company is that of the few elderly descendants of the last remaining 'great' families.
He wrote on 17 June: 'No wonder there is so little intellectual life in Jamaica & that the people are so ordinary. There is something indescribably depressing about the climate. It is not only de-energising, but positively makes one gloomy & despondent.... It is certainly a very undesirable place of residence.' He was becoming aware, however, that his depression was more fundamental – and that it was a burden to his family. He started to work – on an idea he had proposed to Duell for a Nineties anthology – but his library would not arrive until mid-July and he was restricted without it. He tried to improve the state of his relationship with Netta, and his diary entry for 4 July reads: 'Spent a wonderful morning with Netta. Bathed three times.' Four days later came his 54th birthday.
He recorded on 7 July: 'Very depressed and unwell feeling today as I am so often in Jamaica.... I wish I could be in some peaceful place, among my books, with a few friends; but that modest wish is like hoping for immortality in these bitter days.' Netta, who, according to a letter Aldington wrote to Warman, now hated the United States and refused to return, wanted to go to England. It might have appeared a tempting solution, with his affairs now being put in order by his brother and the arrival of long friendly letters from old acquaintances like Prentice, Glover, Gribble, Snow, Carl Fallas, Osbert Sitwell and, of course, Warman. John Arlott, the Literary Programmes Producer for the BBC Overseas Service, also wrote, regarding a radio programme on Imagism that he was going to broadcast in July.
However, the bureaucracy he had encountered in Jamaica served as a warning. He told Powell:
I am not a Socialist I discover, and this 'government control' of everything and everybody in British territory gives me the willies. Don't be taken in – Socialism isn't justice, it's a dismal tyranny of bureaucrats. We are hopping it, and I'll be damned if I ever get back into British dominion again, if I can help it.
He and Netta had agreed on Paris, Gribble's offer of his studio apartment for as long as he remained with the Reparations Committee in Belgium clinching the decision. Once that decision was made, Aldington's spirits lightened. On 26 July he wrote in his diary: 'After a regrettable outburst on my part Netta has promised to do all she can to help with these multitudinous difficulties and arrangements,' and the next day's entry reads: 'A quieter day. I am beginning to get control of myself, although in the morning I totally failed to start work on the anthology introductions.'
One item he received in the post from Britain would come to have considerable significance in his later life. The small parcel contained two books of poetry by a young Australian, Alister Kershaw. 'In his Preface,' Aldington's diary records, 'he attacks much of what I dislike in modern verse (and citing RA, DHL and RC as poets "who have opposed this horror with ferocious genius"). His poems good and his prose direct and vigorous.'
Now more bureaucracy had to be faced: a flight to New York to meet with the French Consul-General and procure the documents needed for the family to gain residency visas for France. (Fortunately, the Consul-General turned out to be a fan of Death of a Hero and The Colonel's Daughter.) By 3 August they were at 440 Park Avenue. Aldington squeezed in a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art: 'The pleasure of being back once more with the art of the world is indescribable,' he wrote in the diary. On 11 August they spent a day on Long Island with Johnson and his family. Aldington met with Duell the next day and agreed a four-book contract: the Nineties anthology, a Walter Pater selection, a biography of Louis XV and a novel. He wrote to tell Frere of the agreement.
On the night of 13 August he wrote in the diary: 'I write this in bed on my last night in America. The Slonimskys dined with us and were delightful.' The following morning he wrote to Bacon to thank him 'for all the good and kind things of the past eight years'. There was also a final note to Slonimsky: 'On Friday we shall be in the Luxembourg Gardens.'
On Thursday 15 August 1946 he and Catha flew to Paris. (Netta was to follow.) The Glovers were there to meet them at the airport.
### 14. The Public Face Novelist, Biographer, Memoirist and Anthologist
While the scope of Aldington's output during the American years illustrates his versatility, it also suggests desperation. His seven-and-a-half year sojourn in the United States, with its combination of extensive travel and residence in a variety of communities, produced no material for poetry or prose. Several years later he would tell Martin Secker that he had 'a halfformed subject' for a short novel in a south-west Florida setting, but the idea came to nothing.
We might have expected his marriage, fatherhood and the strong, if few, friendships of this period, as well as his exposure to a new environment, to have enabled him to throw off the emotional burdens of the past and to seek imaginative inspiration in the world around him. Instead, the familiar pattern reasserted itself – in New York, in New England, in Washington, D.C., Florida, Taos and Los Angeles – of initial excitement and hopefulness followed by disenchantment and recurring bouts of anxiety and depression. It is important to recognise, however, that he carried with him to America the problem he had lived with all his adult life, compounded now by the war and by his responsibility for his young family: his need to earn a living from his writing. The war itself – and perhaps his isolation from it – was a further cause of anxiety.
Rejected Guest, mostly written at the Villa Koechlin before the move to America, came out of the stable that had produced All Men Are Enemies and Very Heaven. Its close resemblance to those earlier novels not only demonstrates the narrow, and very autobiographical, range of Aldington's preoccupations, but suggests a loss of inventiveness. Once again, he took a phrase from a Romantic poet as his title, this time Shelley. The 'rejected guest' in question is David Norris, the illegitimate child of a young British officer killed in the First World War. Brought up by his maternal grandparents in impoverished and isolated circumstances, he tries on their deaths to use his small inheritance to gain himself some higher education. He makes himself known to his wealthy paternal grandfather, a baronet, with the intention of asking for a loan to complete his studies. Instead, his grandfather lavishes money on him but requires him to abandon his studies and to live on the Riviera with a guardian in order for his identity not to become public. Here David falls in love but this apparently idyllic relationship is brutally terminated by the outbreak of the Second World War and the intestate death of his grandfather. At the end of the novel – like Chris Heylin in Very Heaven – David returns to England, penniless, alone and with no prospects.
One of the most successful aspects of the novel is its evocation of place: the interwar utilitarian town of 'Ruxton' and David's sordid London lodgings give way, in the second half of the narrative, to the brilliant and sensuous beauty of the Mediterranean:
April, we know, is the cruellest month; but at Saint-Australe it was beautiful. Snow-bearing east winds from the Alps had gone, and the mistral itself grew rarer. Long ago the swallows and swifts had come darting and sweeping from across the sea, a small black arrow-storm in the vanguard of spring. In the sheltered valleys of mimosa and holm-oak the first nightingales startled the air with brief fragments of unpractised song. Like a golden wave slowly flooding the mountains, the broom and thorn broke into yellow flower, with a foam of white cistus. As in the Spring poems of the Anthology, the wine-dark sea calmed itself into smiles, and navigation became safe even for the intrepid Hellenes of old and the modern Mediterranean fishers.
The hills, sea and weather of the Riviera both influence and reflect David's circumstances and moods in a lightly applied pathetic fallacy. A felicitous touch is that David's guardian's Mediterranean home is – transplanted to the mainland – the vigie on Port-Cros where Aldington had stayed with Lawrence, Frieda, Yorke and Patmore in 1928 – and where Death of a Hero was begun.
Character types re-emerge from the earlier novels: David's guardian, Mr Martindale, is a variation on Mr Chepston in Very Heaven or Purfleet in The Colonel's Daughter, intelligent and even at times a mouthpiece for the author, but ultimately cynical, self-serving and thoughtless; Margy Stuart of The Colonel's Daughter becomes Diana Rockingham, the woman with whom David falls in love and who carelessly abandons him at the end of the novel; O'Hara and Cowley, the friends David makes in his home town, are shadows of Stephen Crang and Robin Fletcher in All Men Are Enemies; Prince Alleoti, the wise and cultured aristocrat who befriends David is a variation on Henry Scrope of All Men Are Enemies or Dudley Pollack in Death of a Hero, older male characters whose presence allows the protagonist to air his ideas and concerns in lengthy passages of dialogue, and who offer him guidance and advice which is sound but ultimately inadequate. In keeping with the general tone of Rejected Guest, Prince Alleoti turns out to be a fraud – at least in David's view, an 'absentee Calabrian landlord' entertaining the young man with his 'urbane intellectual parlour tricks' and 'fake Hellenism': 'The old man wasn't a fool; he had both feet firmly planted on a 20th-century income in order to live in a cloud-cuckoo-land utopia of the 5th BC.'
In addition to this cast of main characters we have vignettes of literary society very like those in Death of a Hero in their accuracy, acuteness – and malice. Here the two writers satirised are H.G. Wells and Michael Arlen. Wells had never expressed much interest in Aldington and had taken Patmore's side when he left her; but Arlen had always been an amiable acquaintance. Another malicious portrait is of David's London landlady, 'built on a flabby Rubens scale', who 'mythologised herself and everything about her with impudence and self-deception'. In case the reader misses the allusion, her name is Watkins.
The novel's major weaknesses are ones we have encountered before: an intrusive and urbane authorial voice which disengages the reader from the world of the narrative; and a naive and passive central character. Aldington explicitly calls our attention to David's weakness, describing him as one of 'the silver change of humanity, the people who cannot find repose in the commonplace, who are aware of the great struggle of minds but are not quite good enough to take any real part in it'. Like George Winterbourne (another naïf), Chris Heylin and Georgie Smithers, David is presented to us as a victim of his social and family circumstances, although the reader may feel that the protagonist carries some responsibility for the tragic outcome.
The extensive passages of authorial comment that weaken Very Heaven are gone, replaced by David's long conversations with Martindale, Alleoti and Diana. However, rhetorical flourishes abound: 'Rosamund Norris had two or three nice dresses and no brains to mar her prettiness or interfere with romance'; 'Having lost her man through a stray shell, Rosamund went off to make shells to destroy other women's men'; 'It is the misfortune of the self-educated that they invariably associate with their mental inferiors, and hence rate themselves too high'; '[Martindale] went in for the maximum of good living with the minimum of responsibility'; 'There can be little doubt that his first real love affair has a very stimulating effect on the human male. He becomes fully aware of what a remarkable chap he is.' Here reader engagement with the narrative is sacrificed to short-term entertainment.
The TLS review was critical:
The distaste or disgust or 'disillusionment' that is so pronounced in Mr Aldington's novels is not abated here. Once more he disapproves of a great many things – of snobbery, prudery, industry, Christianity, numerous forms of art and literature. The motive of his criticism is often plain enough, springing as it does from an acute and deeply fretted sensitiveness; between an antiquated ideal and the commercialism of our day, he suggests, lies a morass of the spirit in which normal humanity founders. With all the good will in the world, however, it cannot be said that this all-inclusive condemnation of his is delivered here with sufficient imaginative force or weight. David, no doubt, is the type and symbol of a frustrated generation, the rejected guest at the feast of life. But you cannot make a good novel out of frustration alone or out of the indictment of an entire civilization.
The Times reviewer focused on the authorial intrusions:
Mr Aldington is one of the most personal of authors. To read one of his novels is like having the next-door flat and seeing him several times a day. He is always dropping in to see how his characters and the reader are getting on together, and this habit, which is at first amusing, becomes wearisome.
Life for Life's Sake has a very different tone. The memoirs, subtitled A Book of Reminiscences, were written for a middle-class American audience typified by the readers of Atlantic Monthly where it was serialised. It is chiefly about Aldington's place in the literary world and is reticent about his private life, which barely intrudes on the narrative. The first five chapters focus on his upbringing in rural England, and here his ability to evoke the spirit of place is strongly in evidence. There is little hint of disharmony or disadvantage; only his schooling is criticised: 'My days at school were... a perpetual struggle against a conditioning which was repulsive to me.' There follow four chapters about his life in the literary world of pre-war London. The portraits of Lawrence, Pound, Ford and Eliot have none of the vitriol of those in Death of a Hero. Of Pound he concedes, 'It seems to me hard to deny his flair or that he has at least a streak of genius', and of Ford, 'I have known many men in my time, but few so fundamentally innocent of real harm', and he speaks of the generosity of both men towards other artists. The portraits of Lawrence and Eliot come in the wartime and postwar chapters. The profile of Eliot is restrained and focuses on the way in which he 'succeeded... by merit, tact, prudence and pertinacity... in imposing his personality, taste, and even many of his opinions on literary England'. As for Lawrence: 'Of all human beings I have known he was by far the most continuously and vividly alive and receptive.'
Three chapters deal with the war and its aftermath and a further eight are devoted to the 1920s, Aldington's retirement to the rural home counties society of Berkshire and his visits to Italy and France, ending with (a version of) the events at Port-Cros and the writing of Death of a Hero. The 1930s and his travels throughout that period are covered swiftly in the final two chapters. Along the way there are many other portraits: of H.D. ('I have never known anybody, not even Lawrence, with so vivid an aesthetic apprehension') and of Yeats, Monro, Hulme and Gaudier-Brzeska, Orioli and Douglas, Joyce, Wells (a far more charitable portrait than in Rejected Guest), de Gourmont, the Sitwells, Storer, Read and Barney; and of less prominent friends and acquaintances such as MacGreevy, Prentice and Frere, Gribble, Slonimsky, Henry Church, Fallas and Whitham. One of the most sharply critical evaluations is of Read:
[H]is poems seem to me to lack the passion which gives life to even the worst splurgings of D.H. Lawrence, and the intellectual concentration which so effectively conceals Eliot's emotional sterility.... [M]uch of Read's work suffers from a kind of metropolitan provincialism, addressing itself to a small group of super-aesthetes whose mental fashions change as quickly as those of couturiers.
Not only what he wrote of Douglas himself but also his account of the 'Maurice Magnus affair' were badly received by Douglas, a refugee in Portugal when the memoirs appeared in Atlantic Monthly. Aldington would return to the Magnus story in biographies of both Lawrence and Douglas in the 1950s and consistently took Lawrence's side in the matter. Magnus, an American, had been one of Douglas's acquaintances and it was through Douglas that Lawrence had come to know him. Magnus was a spendthrift and constantly in debt. He received a small loan from Lawrence and subsequently followed him to Sicily to ask for more money, with which he travelled to Malta where he was pursued by the Italian police for his debts and committed suicide to avoid imprisonment. Douglas was his literary executor and agreed that Lawrence should write an introduction to Magnus's memoirs of his wartime experiences in the Foreign Legion. Taking exception to the account of events that appeared in this introduction, Douglas published a pamphlet entitled D.H. Lawrence and Maurice Magnus: A Plea for Better Manners in which he blamed Lawrence for Magnus's death, asserting that Lawrence had been too mean to give Magnus enough money to escape imprisonment. In Life for Life's Sake Aldington demands:
Why on earth should Lorenzo have given more than half the small sum he had in the world to a comparative stranger who, he had every reason to think, was a waster and perhaps a crook? Norman had much more money than Lawrence, and Magnus was his friend, not Lawrence's.
However, the tone of the book is generally cool and urbane. One of the few departures from this is the impassioned account of the 'indifference verging on hostility' with which the civilian world treated 'the men of the returning army' in 1919. Furthermore:
It was not enough that the returning soldiers were snubbed and left to get on as best they could. Our dead were insulted; our battlefields were made a show for money.... Every night as I read or lay sleepless I heard the raucous shouts and whoops of drunken revellers, a strange disorderliness in the decorous West End. I am no enemy to rejoicings, but this debauchery over ten million graves seemed to me indecent. I saw nothing to rejoice about, having too many vivid recollections of endless desolation and rows upon rows of wooden crosses.
On his experience of the war itself he is more detached – deliberately: '[W]hat I have set down here has been the trifling, not the tragical. To have re-lived it all once in the making of another book was strain enough.' He admits, however, that: 'Unexpectedly, in a flash, it may break through that laboriously built wall of forgetfulness. Certain smells, sounds and sights are the battering rams which suddenly demolish the wall and let the memories escape.'
On his personal life he is brief – and in some cases disingenuous. He is candid about the break-up of his marriage in 1919: '[T]hrough my own folly or worse, I had got my personal life into a tragical mess, which added to my difficulties, and resulted in separation from H.D.' However, the equally dramatic events of 1928 are accounted for with no sense of personal responsibility: 'I missed most of my twenties, when most people have a lot of fun... there was a repressed young man under my sedate exterior clamouring to be heard. I let him be heard. And why not?' The break-up of his relationship with Patmore (who, along with Yorke, is never mentioned) and his elopement with Netta are lost in an invented narrative that has him deciding in 1935 to spend 'the rest of [his] life' in the United States. In Connecticut that year, he maintains, 'I made up my mind that henceforth I would make my headquarters in America.' Subsequent events are subsumed into this construction: 'Twice the complications of life took me back to Europe for rather long periods, one of them being my second marriage and the birth of my daughter, about eighteen months later; but at the third attempt I succeeded in getting permanently free from European entanglements.'
The New York Times focused on the 'fine and meticulous reticence' that seemed 'determined to keep Life for Life's Sake on an even and detached keel': '[T]here are moments when the private memoirs, the unwritten confessions as it were, peer through the more objective pages, but these moments are fleeting, swift shadows glancing across the more solid aspects of things...' The reviewer called the work 'a book of pictures, of personalities, of places, of literary urges and movements', and commented on the skill with which the author brought people and places to life. He concluded: 'He has brought us the sense and spirit of vanished times and he has done it without hurting any feelings or baring any wounds or betraying any confidences, and that is something indeed in a period when a civilised reticence is considered either Victorian or cowardly.'
Whether there was a market for the book in Europe Aldington would never discover. Frere consistently refused his requests for Heinemann to publish it, partly because he felt that it would have little appeal for a British audience that, unlike Aldington himself, had endured the deprivations of the Second World War and its aftermath and felt some resentment towards wartime expatriate writers, but also, surprisingly in the light of the book's genial tone, because he feared that several of the portraits would at best make Heinemann unpopular in literary circles and at worst attract libel charges.
The Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World, published in September 1941, was the product of extensive reading and research, drawing on all Aldington's expertise on poetry from Beowulf onwards, and necessitating meticulous selection. Personal inclinations are occasionally discernible, as in the provision of six poems by Lawrence and five by H.D. when most contemporary poets are represented by one or two. Yeats and Hardy both have six, but Robert Frost a surprising five. Swinburne has ten and William Scawen Blunt a remarkable twelve, while Browning's fifteen contrasts with Tennyson's seven.
Predictably perhaps, although the anthology consisted of over 1,200 poems by about 300 known poets (and a number of anonymous ones), and the selections were generally well-judged and even-handed, many of the reviews consisted of adverse criticism of the contemporary choices. When the book appeared in Britain in December 1947, the Manchester Evening News reviewer called the last hundred pages 'a serious blemish on a selection which, for some two thirds of its length, is very good indeed'. However, the book fortuitously appearing in Britain in the run-up to Christmas, Edward Shanks commented in the TLS that he could think of nothing finer to put in the hands of a young person beginning to take an interest in poetry.
It is an indication of Aldington's financial concerns, but also perhaps of an awareness that he had run dry of creative ideas, that he took on towards the end of his residence in Hollywood the even more laborious task of compiling an anthology of poetry of the Western world for the Encyclopaedia Britannica. In fact, the work, though completed, was never published. Anthologies were becoming his means of earning a living – and gaining in the process some sense of scholarly achievement: in 1946 there were the Great French Romances and the Viking Portable Oscar Wilde; and over the following two years he would work on a Walter Pater selection and an anthology of the writings of the Aesthetes.
His foray into biography – the first since his Voltaire in 1925 – was extremely successful. As he had done in the earlier book, he expertly synthesised vast quantities of information into a balanced and well-proportioned narrative – from which Wellington emerges, as Selwyn Kittredge observed, 'as a living, breathing human being'. Aldington's command of his material is most evident in the chapters that deal with the Peninsular War and the Waterloo campaign. The military historian Cyril Falls, reviewing the book on its publication in Britain in 1946, called it 'firmly and decisively written' and commended its good military detail, particularly with regard to the Waterloo campaign. Graeme Cooper, a contemporary authority on the two campaigns and an experienced guide on those battlefields, comments on the insights the book furnishes into Wellington's decision-making and strategic thinking, demonstrating his ability and effectiveness as a commander.
Although the reader is aware of the author's presence, shaping, analysing and reflecting, that presence is never intrusive, the voice always informed and authoritative but also good-humoured and measured. This is a particularly impressive achievement in the closing chapters, which deal with Wellington's disastrous political career after 1819. With respect to the Duke's misjudgements, Aldington points out that he had spent few of his adult years in the country and consequently had little understanding of either the English people or the Industrial Revolution, against which two powers he:
fought blindly and disastrously for his reputation... an interesting example of a man brilliantly successful in a war where (unknown to himself) he was backed by the will of his own people, the spirit of the times, and the good wishes of mankind, turning to failure when that support was withdrawn because he failed to recognise the signs and trends of the newer age, a fresh generation, another world.
Never excusing, but always explaining his subject's attitudes, behaviour and actions, he reminds the reader that the Duke had been conditioned 'by his birth and upbringing, by his profession and career and interests, to complete identification with the aristocratic party and a firm (if naive) faith that they, and they alone, made the strength, safety, happiness and glory of the realm'. He continues, in a passage that reminds us of his penchant for satire: 'He could scarcely have mistrusted the people more if he had been one of the people's friends, those Whig peers who jogged along on £40,000 a year and jeered at Tories and jacquerie alike over 10 p.m. rere-suppers of oysters and hot pheasants wheeled round on trolleys by obsequious flunkeys.' 'Common sense,' he concludes:
is valuable; but it doesn't cover everything as charity is said to do. In those days there was a need for faith, almost a mystic faith, to believe that these ignorant violent people could in their children become decent civilised people if only they were freed and decently treated. But you had to take the risk of freeing them. Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, had too much common sense to believe in freeing them, too great a feeling of responsibility to the throne (Prinny and his brandy bottle) to take the risk.
When the book was published in Britain the historian Charles Webster noted Aldington's success in communicating his own pleasure to the reader and remarked how much he had enjoyed 'those spirited pages in which every now and again a modern idiom links up the campaigns with our own experience'. The Daily Telegraph reviewer thought the book 'sensible and just': 'Under [Aldington's] brush... we see the firm features of a man great in character, foresight, courage, quickness of apprehension and mastery of the science of war.' That year, the book was awarded the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Biography.
The final production of Aldington's years in America was the novel The Romance of Casanova, completed on New Year's Day 1946 and published later that year. A spin-off from his involvement in the editing of Great French Romances for the Pilot Press, it is a derivative genre piece, although an accomplished one, in which the political intrigues of eighteenthcentury Venice are darkly evoked and set pieces such as Casanova's escape from the Leads vividly realised. The intention for the tale to become a screenplay for a period adventure film is transparent, and Anthony Powell, reviewing it in the Daily Telegraph when it appeared in Britain in January 1947, found it to be 'rather in the manner of Baroness Orczy'. He might, with equal validity, have compared it to a Dumas novel. However, the TLS reviewer identified one interesting feature of the narrative: the way in which it casts the protagonist as 'the tool of women, not their master'; certainly the female characters are represented as more intelligent, determined and active individuals than Casanova himself. The most enthusiastic review was in The Manchester Guardian, where Charles Marriott commended the way in which Aldington's 'firm, light hand... moves confidently about eighteenth-century Venice' and found the writing 'straightforward, smooth, flexible, and... sinewy'.
Creatively, the years in America were disappointing. Just as he had earlier come to accept the end of his career as a poet, Aldington had discovered that he could no longer write novels. He had realised, however, that his erudition and passion for literature could earn him a basic living, if publishers could be persuaded that there was a market for his proposals. More importantly, his one success had been in the field of biography, which drew on both his meticulous scholarship and his skills as a writer.
## Part Three
## THE RECLUSE
## 1951-1962
### 15. Back to the Old World 1946-1947
On 16 August 1946 Aldington and Catha arrived in Paris and were met by the faithful Glovers. They checked in at the Hotel Aiglon in the Boulevard Raspail and met up daily with the Glovers and the Churches, visiting galleries and dining in restaurants, both before and after Netta's arrival on 26 August. A new acquaintance was Edward Gordon Craig, whose youngest daughter, Daphne, only three years older than Catha, became a new friend for her.
Paris was a disappointment: 'still a city of the dead', he wrote in his diary for 19 August. He told Gyde (in charge at Heinemann while Frere was on holiday):
After the grimness and lack of gaiety of the people, the dirtiness of everything, I am chiefly struck by the apathetic resignation, the lack of that spirit of damn-the-government-let's-get-things-started-again which has already brought the U.S. pretty well back to pre-war in everything except housing and some items of men's clothes.... The way the gaiety has gone out of Paris is most striking. I haven't heard a laugh, seen a smiling or pretty face or a well-dressed woman since I arrived.
Rathbone, who met up with him, was distressed by this 'thick-hided lack of realisation of all that has taken place since 1939 and of the epic of the Resistance' in a man for whom she still had enormous regard. She warned Cunard:
If by chance you meet Richard Aldington in Paris be prepared for his taking a very queer line. He contradicts everything one says about France's sufferings and resistance. Says the Resistance was no help to anybody & has been exaggerated out of all sense of proportion.... His indifference to the English war effort & to anything else his old friends have been through is perhaps natural (part feigned, part real). But the indifference to, and denigration of, France's experiences really is a bewilderment... but I have a theory... that he nurses a guilt complex because of not having been in the War, & been so very far away & well-fed, therefore has to disparage the sufferings of others.
She added: 'What the French writers (Casson etc. etc. etc.) will think and say when he gets amongst them I daren't imagine.' Aldington's comments do seem at the least to have displayed extraordinary insensitivity, but if Rathbone had seen his 1940 'The Horn of Roland' essay she might have been more forgiving.
Aldington was not Ezra Pound: he had no intention of 'getting amongst' French writers; he hankered after the Anglo-American community of the late 1920s and wrote to Cunard a fortnight after his arrival:
Dear Nancy
I have just got an address which I'm told will reach you.
We – that is myself, my wife and my 8 year old daughter – came in by air from U.S.
If you are staying in Paris it would be very nice to see you and to show you ma famille, if it wouldn't bore you.
Yours
Richard
Cunard did not reply; she had not forgiven him for the Hours Press row in 1930. Her response to Rathbone was simply: 'that bloody Aldington'.
Only a fortnight after the letter to Gyde, perhaps invigorated by the prospect of seeing at least one of his pre-war friends, Aldington was writing to Frere:
It is an immense satisfaction to be free from the 'American way'. In spite of the large communist and socialist representation in the National Assembly, France is probably less pedantically socialist than England, less like a demonstration of the spectacular errors of the Fabian Society.... Paris is still Paris, and you can see the people, the nation, struggling through the insanities and blunders of the politicians.... France of course is fundamentally a richer country than England in everything that matters to human life.
Alexander Frere, Cape Wrath, Scotland, 1943
While it offers a more positive view of his adopted country, there is also a sub-text here: he was well aware of Frere's connections with, and support for, Britain's Labour Government.
Frere's first letter had assured Aldington: 'You needn't worry about the immediate financial future... I shall be making a lot for you over here from now on.' His promise was fulfilled: the 10,000 first print-run of Wellington sold out on publication; by the end of the year 10,000 copies of the Wilde anthology were sold, and it would be reprinted the following May; The Romance of Casanova would have a pre-publication subscription of 18,000. Yet Aldington's diary entry for 10 September reads: 'Odious letter from Frere. He is really intolerable and I hope he doesn't come to Paris', but he told his brother only a week later that he had had a 'very gracious letter' from Frere, due, he felt, to the fact that the first impression of Wellington had sold out. Their relationship from now on would always be affected by such professional matters; Aldington was much less of an asset to Heinemann than he had been to Chatto & Windus in the 1930s and most of his proposals were not profitable ones. By April 1947 Frere would be writing: 'The reports are that [Casanova] is hanging fire in the shops. I think it is feeling the effect of some hostile reviews... everything has been sticking in the shops since what is known as the crisis burst upon us.' Wellington, he told Aldington, was also going slowly and Wilde halted waiting for paper. He told Aldington to send him the Pater but, 'in common with all other things it will have to be pegged back in the schedule for we are still comparatively in the dark as to what the future is going to be'. He assured Aldington that he still wanted the 'Nineties omnibus' and 'the various other things'... 'but there again a lot depends on the next 6 months'. How far there was a general publishing crisis – and a paper shortage – and how far Frere was using these as an excuse for his reluctance to press ahead with Aldington's projects is not clear; but Aldington saw such letters as prevarication.
Gradually the old life came back and Aldington wrote to Bacon: 'We feel as if we have come home and are more and more happy to be here.' 'Coming home' is the phrase he used in a letter to Slonimsky too. Prentice, who had spent the war back at Chatto & Windus, came to visit with his new wife; so did the Gribbles; Frere eventually made it over the Channel, as did Warman. The diary entry for 22 September reads: 'Gave Eric Warman dinner at the Dôme. He looks well and prosperous, & his light-hearted attitude was in pleasant contrast to the dreary patriotism of Irene [Rathbone]. We enjoyed him very much. Met Irene for a drink. Joined by Eric who gave us lunch.' Warman might well have looked well and prosperous. Having worked at the Ministry of Information during the War, he had left to found World Film Publications, providing novelisations of feature films and annual guides to popular cinema. His first success was his adaptation of the 1946 Powell and Pressburger film, A Matter of Life and Death.
As for Frere, Aldington told him after their meeting on 3 October: 'That was a wonderful evening which I shan't forget, nor the possibility – which for so long seemed impossible – of the South together again.' He told his brother (now managing all his legal affairs) that things with Frere were 'satisfactory', all was 'going through', a reprint of A Dream in the Luxembourg, his proposed Pater selection and Nineties anthology, plus proposals for a French anthology, a life of Louis XV and a novel. Sales to Norway of All Men Are Enemies and Seven Against Reeves were further good news, as was the sale of French rights for all the novels since All Men Are Enemies; and by the spring of 1947 rights for Casanova had been sold to Spain, South America, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Czechoslovakia, Holland, Italy and Switzerland.
Another visitor (registered in the diary as 'our most interesting new acquaintance') was Arlott. Aldington told Church:
John Arlott in the late 1940s
We had John Arlott with us for a week, and found him a most delightful and charming companion, full of zest for the different life of Paris and appreciative of everything. We only differed in politics and about the UNESCO show of painting which he thought good and I thought wretched.
It was from Aldington that Arlott acquired his appreciation of French wines.
The visits were all one-way: Aldington told Goldring: 'I have decided definitely against coming to England – it is too much like a prison.' The Glovers departed for North Wales, the Churches for London and the Gribbles for Brussels, but other friends were living in Paris, including Willert, who had left New York to serve with the RAF during the war. There were letters from old friends too, Fallas amongst them. In late October Aldington sought help from Gyde for Fallas, who had lost his post on the Manchester Evening News. Another welcome correspondent was MacGreevy, to whose letter Aldington responded enthusiastically (in his first letter for a decade), giving his friend news of his old haunts:
Yes, Paris, strangely enough, is still here, still very much ashamed of itself for bolting and ratting in '40, rather out-of-touch with the greater world beyond Europe but persisting in the old ways with an obstinacy which would be pathetic if it were not so engaging. Like my own countrymen they fail to realise that their greatness is past, that henceforth they are a second-rate power at best and so on. But the town and people are, as ever, so much more sympathetic and amusing than the British who have reverted to a kind of political Puritanism.... The Closerie, Dôme, Rotonde and Coupole are bleak deserts of empty chairs. After Hollywood and New York the women look like servant girls.... Western Europe is 'out' for half a century and there is nothing to do but live among the ruins and make the best of it.
This exchange between the two old friends seems to have been an isolated one; there are no further letters extant until 1958.
Perhaps the most important correspondence of these months was with H.D. The last Aldington had heard from her was in January, when he was still in Hollywood and she was planning a visit to the United States to give a lecture at Bryn Mawr. He wrote as soon as he reached Paris to enquire what had happened and why he had not heard from her in the intervening period – and to ask her to visit: 'Paris is still in a mess, but still wonderful, and a million times better than America with all its money and morality and monkeys and morons.' He told her that Netta had a great admiration for her and would like to meet her again.
No sooner had he written than he received a letter from Bryher to inform him that H.D. had had meningitis in February and that Bryher and Walter Schmiderberg, H.D.'s analyst and friend, had found her a clinic in Switzerland – the Klinik Brunner at Seehof near Küsnacht – and had her flown out there. The meningitis story was being told to all their acquaintances; in fact, after the strain of the war years, during which she had been confined for the most part to her London flat (which she shared with Bryher) and had developed an obsessive interest in spiritualism, H.D. had had a mental breakdown. Bryher wrote to her in September – by which time she had begun to recover – to tell her what had happened; H.D. had no recall of the circumstances which had led to her committal to the clinic. Bryher told her:
I beg of you only to listen to the wise counsel of Dr Brunner, eat well and sleep well, then we shall be re-united sooner. It is no question of sanity or otherwise, it is just that you, like hundreds of other English people, have suffered a terrible strain through the war and lost temporarily your memory.
Aldington wrote to H.D. immediately:
It was a great shock to hear from Bryher that you have been so ill, and this made poignant the very charming little note from you she sent on to me this morning. I hope you will take very great care of yourself, rest and eat the good Swiss 'essen', and keep out of the cold and foggy north as long as possible.
There began a regular correspondence, in which he told her about his family:
My mother is still alive and still very nearly as belligerent and capricious as of old. Poor Tony has a terrible time trying to keep her quiet. He has authority from me to pay her anything she needs out of royalties of mine in his keeping but she complains bitterly it is too little. Between ourselves he keeps her short on account of the whiskey bottle, but of course it is widely reported that we starve our poor mother.... Margery is married to the exmanager of an Indian railway, has a nice house in Rye, and helps Patty – poor Patty – who has never got far in life. They are both rather bigoted Catholics.
(H.D. suggested, tactfully and charitably, that May Aldington's alcoholism might be due to 'war strain'.) A photograph of Catha accompanied news of her: 'a nice little girl, a little given to fussing over trifles, a bit of a perfectionist, but intelligent, warm-hearted and responsive to ethical training'.
He showed constant concern for H.D.'s well-being: 'I have just had a letter from Bryher in which she tells me that you are mistaken about your finances, which is good news; and that you must not work too hard for a bit, which is not such good news'; 'I do hope you're getting on all right, Dooley. And please do seriously let me know what I can do'; and 'Dear Dooley, Your letter sounds ever so much stronger than the others, and I feel you are getting better rapidly. However, you must not hurry away, but see that you are properly established in health before leaving. Unless one is well, people can be so destructive.'
In some ways he saw her as more resilient than Bryher did. The latter had protected her from news of Pound's circumstances, but Aldington told her: 'The story of Ezra is very painful, but I think it absurd for you not to be told.' Pound had given himself up to the American military authorities in Italy in May 1945 and been transferred to the United States in November of that year, arraigned on charges of treason; but in February 1946 he had been found unfit for trial on the grounds of insanity and committed to St Elizabeth's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington, D.C. It seemed to be a life sentence: as long as he was considered insane he would be incarcerated; should he 'recover' his sanity, he would face the original charges. Aldington had no news of Dorothy, Olga or Mary, but told H.D.: 'You shouldn't worry too much about old Ez, who is quite safe, humanely treated, with his economic problems solved pro tem. at any rate.' By February he was able to reassure her further: the Glovers had heard from Olga's brother that she was safe and at present in Vienna on musical affairs, although she had been teaching English for 'a bare living', and Mary was recently married.
H.D., passport photograph, 1946
The correspondence between them was becoming a central fact of their lives. Barbara Guest comments: 'He was just near enough now for H.D. to be aware of his unobtrusive presence; this need became increasingly important to her. Again, he was her critic, her friend; the letters began to pass back and forth as if no time or lovers had intervened.' As for Aldington, the very fact that the gaunt 60-year-old H.D. was not physically attractive to him made the relationship easier. He had never ceased to feel great affection and admiration for her and wanted, as always, to place his own practical grasp (as he saw it) of the world of publishers and readers at her service.
By the beginning of December, H.D. was well enough to leave the clinic; but she did not move to Kenwin. Her relationship with Bryher was as affectionate and loyal as ever and the latter continued for the rest of H.D.'s life to look after her welfare, to give her financial support and to make all the major decisions in her life – or at least to be consulted before decisions were made. They would always celebrate together the anniversary – 17 July – of their first meeting in 1918. However, after their shared residence of the war years in the small Lowndes Square flat, the longest period in their relationship that they had lived under the same roof, both women knew that the time had come for them to live apart. That Bryher could not merely tolerate, but actively encourage H.D.'s correspondence with Aldington is an indication of the more relaxed relationship between the two women. H.D. moved into the Hotel Alexandre in Lausanne, just a 20-minute journey from Kenwin. She remained there until the following summer when she moved to a hotel in Lugano. This would be the pattern of the coming years: Lausanne in the winter, Lugano in the summer. Like Aldington, she never returned to London.
By December, Aldington was also moving: to a studio apartment at 162 Boulevard Montparnasse, 'near the atelier of Othan Friesz where Netta goes to paint'. Catha was at school nearby at the Collège Sévigné in the Rue Pierre Nicole. As the New Year opened, he reviewed his situation and that of the world around him in what would be his last diary entry for four years:
Europe still welters helplessly like a great ship in the trough of the waves... I have been too much disordered to do any writing, but have read & have made a little progress towards my edition of Pater. I must try to hope that conditions for work will improve, but the whole state of society is such that one is constantly being worried by petty officials. Any genuine creative work is almost out of the question in contemporary Europe.
As he had done in Paris in 1930 – and New York in 1939 – he would soon decide that the distractions of citylife were inimical to creative work. In the meantime, an old pattern was reasserting itself: physical illness leading to mental depression. He told H.D in mid-January:
It has troubled me that I have been unable to write, but twice in the past six weeks I have gone down with particularly vicious attacks of influenza. Apart from the fact that I have to take care this doesn't reach my lungs, one is left so depressed by it, that the arrears of things to be done appear quite mountainous. At such times the ignoble self-slaughter of Europe during the past decade becomes an intolerable thought, the more so since they pride themselves on their heroism while trying to jump in any available political bandwagon. The collapse of Greece after Chaeronea seems less awful – though indeed 'from what a height of bliss' they fell
The classical reference is a deliberate evocation of their shared world.
He continued to express concern for her, writing in March: 'I wish I knew how you are in health, and I wish you would regain your American citizenship and get your money back into dollars before there is some frightful crash in England.' He also wished he could visit her but said that he was tied by Catha's schooling. In this letter he allowed himself a rare reference to his domestic circumstances: 'In my opinion the present Mrs Aldington, who has opposed the purchase of a car on grounds of Scotch economy, will change her mind as soon as the warm weather comes!'
The references to their shared past continued. In May he told her: 'I was in Capri as late as 1937, and alas, all our walk along to the Migliara had been dug up (destroying the wild flowers) in Musso's battaglia del grano.' He continued: 'Do you read newspapers? I am cutting down as much as possible, and wondering whether one should not stop. It seems to me my happiest days with you were when we never read a newspaper and thought of Greek and Italian and art.' He told her that he sometimes went to the Louvre 'to see our Lady of Melos and the Greek and Roman things, especially those bronze copies of the Greek'. In reply, H.D. told him that she had not been to Capri for many years:
But the second time I went, I felt the whole had grown a bit dim and the flowers and trees not as I remembered them.... I was so sorry you lost your watch that time at Ana-Capri when you chased a boy for laughing at us. It was a wonderful spring and I remember the pear-tree in the garden and the occasional quince trees in blossom and that odd German painter with his butterflies, and the coral wash on the houses – we have that here. I have not seen the familiar cytisus but there is gorse in blossom such as I first met on the Amalfi drive and they are beginning to plant the jars and boxes with those huge marguerites.
She was encouraging, even prompting, his recall of their history. In April a reminder of that history came with the news that May Sinclair had left them each (along with Pound) £50, one or two specified books and a choice from her library. They both regretted that they had lost touch with Sinclair. 'I wish we could have assured her of our continuing affection,' Aldington wrote.
He also shared his feelings about America. Sometimes, he told her in May, he got homesick for Florida: 'with its sheets upon sheets of lovely water hyacinths and great butterflies and live oaks with Spanish moss'. He reflected:
[I]f only the bulk of Americans were not such impossible people, what a wonderful place America could be.... What a pity America didn't stay anywhere near what it set out to be. It has become the biggest humbug in history, which is disquieting to me, as I don't like those Russians one bit.
He would tell her months later that Florida was 'the only place in God's Own' for which he got really homesick.
Meanwhile he was labouring on his self-appointed writing tasks: the Walter Pater selection ('an ever toiling up a toiling wave job' he told H.D.) and the broader Nineties anthology. He was also preparing a reprint of his Complete Poems for publication by Allan Wingate under licence from Heinemann, since Frere claimed to have insufficient paper stocks. It is a measure of his inability to grasp publishing realities that he was now contemplating an anthology of the work of the Nineties writer John Addington Symonds. He told H.D. that neither Heinemann, Viking nor Duell, Sloan and Pearce appeared interested: '[T]hey do hate beauty – though they know they can sell at least 10,000 of anything I sponsor they hesitate, demur – am I wise to risk my reputation?'
He was also increasingly vexed by his financial obligations to the Patmores. He arranged for his brother to take over the legal management of the case from Hilbery, who had already taken it over from the original lawyers. However, Tony could offer him little comfort and Aldington wrote to him in May: 'I feared you would not be able to find a loop-hole in that Patmore document as it was drawn by shrewd lawyers while the people acting for me were jackasses. But I didn't want to go to Hilbery and got recommended to that fool (by Frere).' He asked if the payment could be extended over a longer period, telling his brother: 'There is no chance of the dame croaking – tough as buffalo meat.'
Now H.D. asked him to look at the draft of her The Sword Went Out to Sea (sub-titled Synthesis of a Dream), the autobiographical novel which she had been writing in London before her breakdown. Guest describes the work as 'a kedgeree of spiritualism', combining as it does, the ideas of Air Chief Marshall Lord Dowding, based on his writings and the lectures he gave in wartime London and which H.D. attended, accounts of seances at Lowndes Square, characters representing important figures in her life, such as Bryher, Aldington and Dowding, and historical contexts of mediaeval France and the England of William Morris and his circle. H.D. described it to Aldington as 'fantasy cum reality'. It would not be published in her lifetime.
Aldington's first response was that it was 'a remarkable piece of work', but he saw the publishing problems, particularly in view of the 'mixed genres'. While it might be publishable in its present form it wouldn't 'sell'. In another coded reference to their shared past, he quoted to her Browning's comment on his Men and Women: 'I have written not what the few must but what the many may like.' He added: 'If you prefer to leave the material as it is I shall try to think of some way of getting by with it.' Soon he had to tell her that Frere was not interested. In the current climate, none of the big publishers were likely to be interested and the smaller ones would not have the paper stocks. H.D. told him:
I feel I struck a sort of oil well or gold mine – my own. I have not plumbed the depth or yet veined the ore.... I feel that the book is so very precious to me, that having satisfied myself, I am satisfied to have two or three readers – until/if the time comes, when it could be set up by someone who really wanted it and believed in it, and would do the business part altogether.
He responded tactfully but firmly. Perhaps she could find an American publisher? If it were 're-shaped into a novel of an objective kind, expressing all its sensations and ideas, its emotions and beliefs through action and character', then he thought it would have 'the chance of a very big success'. 'You wilfully put obstacles between yourself and the common reader,' he told her. 'Why do you? Is it so much harder to be lucid, to put things in such a way that any educated reader of good will can, indeed must, follow you? You are a lord of language and can so easily make speech obey you.' He was taking very seriously the role of literary advisor and mentor.
Now two life-changing events occurred. The first was the entry into his life of the young Australian poet, Kershaw, of whose two volumes of poetry he had already approved. Kershaw had now arrived in England, 'the first step,' he told Aldington, 'in a journey to see how much of the Europe you evoked in All Men Are Enemies and Life for Life's Sake is left'. He asked: 'I wonder if you would allow me to meet you if I came to France?... [I]t would be a great honour.' Almost immediately – and increasingly as time went on – he would become one of the most important people in Aldington's life.
That his visit to Paris at the end of May was a success is demonstrated by a letter from Netta to Warman:
Dearest Eric, I wonder if you would meet a very young friend of ours and tell us what you think of him. His name is Alister Kershaw, he is twenty-six, writes poetry, comes from Australia and has apparently brought himself up on Richard's books.... He is most frightfully nervous, and you may get nothing out of him, or you may even get unpleasant defensive things, but I ask you please to be patient. It took us four days to dig him out of his shyness, and then he became as vivid, charming, and amusing a campanion [sic] as we have ever seen, which is saying something, when you consider Richard's roster. We became extremely fond of him. I'm not asking you, God forbid, to be patient for four days, but just to see him once or twice and let us know what your opinion is. You may find it extremely rewarding. I very much hope so.
Kershaw's first impression of Aldington is recorded in his 1989 memoir: 'Broad-shouldered, broad-chested, with (until he felt able to let down his guard) somewhat stern features, he was physically imposing and might have been intimidating, had it not been for his smile, which was of singular sweetness, and his manner, which was a touching blend of friendliness and shyness.' Kershaw also gives us one of the few descriptions of Netta we have:
She was enchanting... gay and beautiful and welcoming, with a marvellous capacity for enjoyment: she drank a glass of wine as though it were the best wine in the world and the first she had ever drunk, she laughed as though laughter was her natural mode of expression. The spring of that year was particularly wonderful, and Netta was spring-like in her warmth and eagerness.
By mid-July Kershaw was already making himself useful. 'Ever so many thanks for seeing Deutsche [of the publishers Allan Wingate],' Aldington wrote. 'If you can find out what prospects are for an early 10,000 of All Men, I'll be most grateful. That book and Complete Poems are what I want to keep in print.' Thereafter, he handed over to Kershaw all his negotiations with Allan Wingate, although the Complete Poems and a new edition of Fifty Romance Lyric Poems, along with an Aldington introduction to a new (Chawton) edition of Jane Austen's novels, were to be the only outcomes. By the end of the month Kershaw was also negotiating on his behalf with Allen & Unwin (the original publishers of Aldington's poetry, including the Collected Poems of 1929), Heinemann (Frere having taken two months' sick leave) and the BBC Third Programme (who wished to broadcast Aldington's translation of François Villon). Whether or not he was receiving any monetary reward for these services is unclear. He had, however, made the acquaintance of the poet Roy Campbell, who, as Talks Producer at the BBC, had hired him for a talk and would give him further occasional work.
It comes as a surprise to find that it was only now, through Kershaw, that Aldington came to know Campbell. Kershaw told Aldington that, on the publication of Campbell's latest collection, Talking Bronco, Stephen Spender had written to accuse him of slander against the group of poets whom Campbell had labelled MacSpaunday (Spender, Auden, MacNeice and Day Lewis), and of being a Fascist. Aldington told Kershaw: 'Tell Roy from me – and no kidding – that I know I've no business to give him advice but he can't take that from Stephen Spender lying down. Either he must knock his block off or take a libel action.' He even gave Kershaw Tony Aldington's address and added: 'I can arrange that Roy isn't asked for costs.' Out of this exchange grew what would become, when Campbell came to visit the Riviera in 1950, a very close friendship. Kershaw, although only 26 years old, had conservative political views that were aligned much more closely with those of Aldington, Campbell and another writer whom he would also introduce to Aldington – Henry Williamson – than with those of the 'MacSpaundays'. In this respect (and only in this respect) Kershaw perhaps did Aldington a disservice, reinforcing rather than challenging the latter's conservative – though never fascist – views of the world.
The second life-changing event at this time was Aldington's move to the Riviera. He was beginning to feel swamped by Paris life. On one day, he told H.D, he had had Frere visiting, the Albatross representative to see for lunch, business letters to write and a visit from 'an old sweetheart of Netta's who became a hero in Burma and is bringing his new bride to Paris'. 'Casual visitors eat up one's days,' he complained. Visitors from England and America were generally on holiday and tended to forget that Aldington required an uninterrupted working day. There were other drawbacks to Paris: '[I]t is an absolutely dead city in August/ September, and then the winter chill gives me one bad cold after another.' 'It is a shame,' he told H.D., 'to move the child from school where she is happy, but it won't help her to have a bed-ridden or deceased father. I lost four months' work last winter, and haven't nearly made up.' He told Slonimsky (thanking the couple for Catha's birthday present):
Paris has been very lovely this spring, the people still crushed and withered by the evil days so recently gone, but recovering a little. A little of the harshness has gone, I think, but there is a growing sense of helplessness, of being ground between the alien ideologies and imperialisms of Russia and America. Today I am 55, and resolved not to worry about humanity, not to intervene between herds of Gadarene swine and steep places, but to escape for all I'm worth – and may social-minded uplifters get everything they deserve
Finding a villa on the Riviera was not easy: their 'old stamping ground' had been 'knocked so heavily by the Allied landing' and rents for the undamaged villas were high. By late July, however, he had found the Villa Aucassin at Saint-Clair, two miles east of Le Lavandou, property of Hildebrand Harmsworth of the newspaper family. Frere would share the cost for August and part of September so that he could bring his family there for a holiday. At the end of July 1947 Aldington moved out of Paris for the last time in his life.
### 16. The Sociable Life Paradise Regained – and Lost 1947-1949
'It is as if one had never been away,' Aldington told H.D, '– blue sky, blue sea, gold-furnace sun, baked mica-spangled hills, the endless cri-cri of the cicadas.' In mid-October he would write: 'The weather is warm still and we are able to bathe... today it is lovely and sunny, and it is such bliss to look at the cypresses and olives. There is really no life away from the Mediterranean basin and the adjoining lands.'
A vivid account of life at the Villa Aucassin is provided by the Australian writer and teacher William Denison Deasey:
Alister Kershaw and Richard Aldington at the Villa Aucassin, Le Lavandou
St Clair was a dream of the South. A small bay between two rocky points, a scatter of small houses, mimosas and eucalyptus, vines and olive trees, half-circled by low hills. There was a daily bus service along the narrow road but no traffic of any importance. The nearest shops, post office or police station were kilometres away.
The Villa Aucassin stood back from the road, half-hidden by trees and reached by a dirt track between fields. There Aldington worked from early morning until lunchtime, tapping away in his upstairs room. Netta, his wife, was dark and attractive, quite a bit younger than Richard; their daughter, Catha, was saxon fair and blue-eyed, about nine, at that wonderful age before secondary schools and 'normal development' spread their blight.
... At the villa, the dining room table was just inside the windows, opening on the verandah. Conversation would be riveted on some weighty problem in nineteenth-century poetry when Catha would burst in, carrying some new marvel, a flower or insect in the palm of her hand for Richard to identify.
The Villa Aucassin
I lodged at the inn and came up the track when Alister, Richard, Netta and any visitors were reaching the cheese course and conversation was allegretto over the Muscadet or Blanc de Blancs.... Lunch at the villa was a sort of quest, a gateway to finding out what was left undestroyed in our world – Europe and Australia.
Kershaw would tell Norman Gates in 1980:
The best moments... were when there were just the four of us... and then best of all were the evenings. We would go for a swim just as the sun began to sink... stroll back to the villa, drink our aperitifs on the terrace as we listened to the nightingales' enchanting and tireless rippling away in the garden, dine on bouillabaisse or an aioli or (when the season came round) snipe or wild boar. Netta would read poems to us, or Richard would reminisce about D.H. Lawrence or Ezra Pound, Eliot or H.D., or we would put a record on the gramophone... or discuss what Richard was writing or what he would write next.
* * *
The first visitors, however, were the Freres and their three children. Aldington told Kershaw: 'It has been rather sticky with the Freres. She has been angelic, but he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown which took the form of a chauvinism so relentless... that even in an invalid one could scarcely let it pass unsatirised.' When the visit was over, he told H.D.:
We are beginning to recover from the visit of the Freres. I used to be fond of them both, but they have changed so much that friendship is out of the question and even a visit from them a penance. This new mixture of violent chauvinism and imperialism, plus the quite untrue British legend that England saved the world (it was in fact saved by the US and Russia), combined with social climbing and Socialist politics is disgusting. It is National Socialism of a British brand, capable of being just as nasty as the German variety.... [H]ow Lorenzo would have loathed it.
The letter continues: 'By way of a change we have a happy-go-lucky and gifted young Australian poet, who belongs to one of the "good" families there, but who is wholly without snobbery and affectation. And intelligent.' The nod to H.D.'s own snobbery and the inference that, unless a pedigree were offered, an Australian visitor might be assumed to be uncouth should not divert us from the fact that Aldington was looking forward with pleasure to Kershaw's visit, as was Kershaw himself: 'You don't know – how could you? – how hugely I look forward to being with you again for a while. I feel such a deprivation away from you. That sounds phoney, I know. But it is so.' It was now that Kershaw started to deal with Aldington's incoming correspondence as well as taking on much of the liaison with publishers. For Kershaw this was 'a golden time': '[Aldington] had no financial worries at that period, he was pleased with the work he was doing, the cellar never ran dry and, as a matter of principle, the local peasants saw to it that the food rationing regulations imposed by Paris were systematically circumvented.'
Richard Church, May 1939
Kershaw was not the only guest that autumn. Glover, recently widowed and in a distressed state, stayed through the autumn and winter, and Richard Church, with his wife Rina, came for several weeks to convalesce from a recent operation. 'Trying to make them comfortable and to write a book at the same time is a full-time job,' Aldington told H.D. However, 'make them comfortable' he did. Church recalls in the third volume of his memoirs: '[F]or some six weeks Aldington's villa, standing up a valley in a thicket of winter-blooming mimosa, was more a nursing-home than a literary household. There, Aldington, approaching his own professional autumn, showed an aspect of his personality that, alas, rarely appeared in his books. He was benign, considerate, restrained.' Aldington frequently showed generosity towards Church; only the previous autumn he had written to tell him how much he admired his latest poetry collection, The Lamp, and to say that he had recommended it to Duell, Sloan and Pearce for American publication. This generosity was rarely reciprocated, and publicly Church often expressed that disapproval and wariness of Aldington that was common amongst the Criterion group.
Alister Kershaw, Geoffrey Dutton and Denison Deasey, 1948
Aldington would comment to Frere in April 1948: 'He tries to be all things to all men, and never realises that the only thing in literature as in life is to stick to your guns. But then he probably hasn't got any guns, not even a muzzle-loading Brown Bess.' Kershaw was of much the same opinion, referring in his memoirs to 'wishy-washy Richard Church' as '[a] visitor I could have done without... a harmless enough creature, but intolerably provincial... preoccupied with the doings of literary London.'
Kershaw brought new friends into Aldington's life, visitors who made the Villa Aucassin a joyful place and who would never forget the welcome they received. Foremost amongst them was Deasey, commonly referred to as 'Dease'. He and Kershaw had met in bohemian literary circles in Melbourne in 1940, and he had followed Kershaw to London in the summer of 1947, abandoning a year-old marriage; but he had been unable to join his friend in Saint-Clair that autumn because he had contracted tuberculosis on the voyage from Australia and was hospitalised, first in Dublin, where he was visiting relatives, and then in a TB clinic in Switzerland. It was March 1948 before he made his first visit. He was housed, as were most of Aldington's visitors except Kershaw, at Les Sables d'Or Hotel in Saint-Clair, owned and run by the eccentric Russian emigré Serge Berkaloff. Deasey stayed for three months, was back again in July and August, and again from March to June 1949, with further visits in July and September that year. He subsequently married a Parisian girl, Gisèle Satoor de Rootas, and lived in Paris until his return to Australia at the end of 1954. A talented pianist, he brought music into Aucassin and Aldington had the villa's piano specially tuned for him.
Geoffrey Dutton, Alister Kershaw and Denison Deasey, 1948
The friendship between Kershaw and Deasey was a close one and for periods they lived together, both in London and in Paris, but there was rivalry between them, in part for the affection of Aldington. Kershaw had become Aldington's indispensable adviser and closest friend – a replacement for Frere – but the impulsive, engaging, accident-prone and physically delicate Deasey became a surrogate son towards whom Aldington felt protective. (For both Netta, only ten years their senior, and Catha, their junior by fifteen years, Kershaw and Deasey were fraternal figures.) Deasey shared Aldington's historical and aesthetic interests and, perhaps more importantly, had also been scarred by his wartime experiences. Kershaw at times resented the happy-go-lucky lifestyle of Deasey, who had independent means, having been left an annuity by an uncle. Deasey, on the other hand, was generously supportive of Kershaw – and had paid for his voyage from Australia, another factor that complicated their relationship.
Denison Deasey, Catherine Aldington and Ninette Dutton, 1949
The other members of this friendship group were Geoffrey Dutton and his wife Ninette, also people with whom Aldington's relationship would be lifelong. Like Deasey, Dutton and his wife came from privileged backgrounds and the two young men had been friends since boarding-school days. Dutton had served in the Australian Air Force during the war and had come to Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1946 as a mature undergraduate student. Kershaw had landed on the doorstep of the Duttons' two-roomed flat in Banbury Road a year later and spent his first months in England sleeping on a sheepskin rug on their living-room floor. The couple first arrived at the villa in the spring of 1948, but the following summer, when Dutton had graduated, they rented a flat in Sanary, west of Toulon, where he wrote his first novel. A year later, at Aldington's suggestion, they rented a tiny cottage high on the hill above Villa Aucassin, where Dutton settled in to write another – never published – novel. Dutton had his own theory about the attraction of the young Australians for Aldington: '[W]e came from a less overbuilt land and, however sophisticated we thought we were, retained a certain freshness, if not naïveté.'
In January 1948 Kershaw's girlfriend, Patsy Wright, arrived from Melbourne to join him at the Villa Aucassin. She would need work, however, and soon moved to London, followed in June – to Aldington's distress – by Kershaw. He was back by the end of July and remained at the villa until mid-September, returning again for a few weeks in December. In early March 1949 he wrote from London that he felt as though he had been away from Saint-Clair for three years rather than three months, but he was only able to make a short spring visit. He and Patsy needed to earn a living and spent those years moving from one loaned flat or bedsit to another, relying on the good will of friends like Warman, Deasey and the Arlotts. They married in January 1950, Kershaw telling Aldington that '[t]he operation was performed before a wildly enthusiastic multitude of one – i.e. Eric [Warman]'.
Deasey and Dutton threw a celebratory party for the newly married couple, the guest list for which is revealing about the London world into which Kershaw – both on Aldington's behalf and because of his own inclinations – had entered. The evening was dominated by the presence of two writers whom both Aldington and Kershaw revered, Rachel Annand Taylor and Roy Campbell, each of whom, according to Kershaw, 'held separate court at opposite ends of the room and never exchanged a word'.
Taylor, a Scot, was formerly a poet of the Celtic Revival but better known for her critical writing about the Renaissance in the 1920s. Patmore had introduced Aldington and H.D. to her during their early years in London: she had moved there from her native Scotland in 1910 after separating from her husband because of his mental illness. She was now in her 70s and Aldington, determining that she would be the final artist in his Aesthetes anthology, both for her poetry and for her 'eloquent, coloured, sensitive prose', had been making enquiries as to whether she was still alive. It was another of Kershaw's acquaintances, the middle-aged civil servant and amateur book-dealer William Dibben (who was fast becoming indispensable to Aldington for his ability to track down and acquire the rare books he needed for his research), who 'found' Taylor in May 1948. Thereafter, she and Aldington were in regular correspondence, while in London Dibben and Kershaw (sometimes with Patsy, who was a discerning lover of poetry) visited her regularly. Kershaw told Aldington: 'She's vastly envenomed and I love it.' Eager as always to help his friends, Aldington enlisted H.D. for financial support for the impoverished writer, although Taylor rebuffed his offer to help her to leave London for France or Italy; she was too old and unwell to risk her security after forty years in the capital. What she really wanted was recognition for her writing and Kershaw arranged for her to meet Frere, but the publisher, although delighted to make her acquaintance, knew that her work was not a realistic financial proposition.
Campbell had been Kershaw's idol since the age of seventeen when he had discovered Adamastor in a Melbourne bookshop and Campbell's 'lion-roaring poetry struck [him] full in the solar plexus'. Shortly after he arrived in Britain in 1947 Kershaw had received through Dutton an invitation to meet up with Campbell in London, at the George in Mortimer Street, the public house frequented by personnel from the BBC, where Campbell worked as Talks Producer. The poet did not disappoint the young Australian:
Massive and powerful-looking, dominating the whole place with his sheer physical vitality and shedding around himself a joyous meridional radiance... [h]e was wearing a Spanish sombrero... and carried under his arm what looked like, and may have been, a huge Zulu knobkerry.... Dressed in a rumpled grey suit, balding, fleshy, he nonetheless had what can only be called glamour.
Iconoclastic and anti-socialist as they both were, the Australian and the South African hit it off immediately.
It is surprising that Campbell and Aldington had never met. In the 1930s they had shared a strong distaste for the literary establishment – upon which both had made sharply satirical attacks – and had weighed in with support for Lewis's The Apes of God. Campbell had spent the years from 1928 to 1933 at Martigues in the South of France, not too far from Aldington's summer homes near Le Lavandou; Huxley, living in Sanary, half-way between the two places, was a frequent visitor at the Campbells' home and also – though less frequently – called on Aldington. Even though it was to be some time before the two men would meet, Kershaw ensured that each was aware of the other's esteem. Aldington was made particularly conscious of Campbell's regard for him when the latter wrote to the TLS in February 1949 remonstrating with Alan Ross for his disparaging review of Aldington's Complete Poems and followed his letter up with a full-length appreciation in the Poetry Review in May entitled 'The Happy Pagan'.
Another guest at that party was John Browning, chairman of Evans Brothers, with whom Kershaw had struck up an amiable relationship two years earlier, when Browning had expressed an interest in coming to an arrangement with Heinemann to publish new Aldington work and even reprints. Aldington was still unable to produce a novel but he was working on biographical pieces, and Evans published his Four English Portraits in 1948, followed in 1949 by a biography of Charles Waterton.
Kershaw's work with Aldington's publishers smoothed the latter's path, not only in freeing him to concentrate on his writing but in ensuring that relationships with those publishers were more cordial than he himself could have achieved. Kershaw, though always loyal, recognised how self-defeating Aldington's behaviour could be, and was possibly the one person in his life able to persuade him into rational responses – or at least into allowing Kershaw to behave rationally on his behalf. In particular, Kershaw worked tirelessly to improve Aldington's relationship with Frere. Aldington conceded in a letter to H.D. in June 1948: 'I must not be unjust to Frere. No other publisher in England or America would at this time do the Pater and the Aesthetes. He is doing them only out of friendship and will lose money on both!' Generally, however, he was both at odds with his former friend's politics and suspicious of his motivation. He appreciated Kershaw's patient negotiations on his behalf, telling him that same month: 'I'm very glad the meeting with Frere went off so well. He is so damned capricious nowadays I never know what line he'll take. You evidently worked marvels.' Kershaw kept up the good work, writing to Aldington the following month that he had had lunch with Pat: 'Wallace and I got along well enough I think. Be assured we shall soothe the Freres and all will be well thereafter.' In August when the Frere family arrived for their second annual visit to Villa Aucassin, Aldington told Dibben:
It has been a bit sticky at times, for though he is a very old friend of mine, he went all political and patriotic in the war and is only slowly recovering. And then it is hard to mix poets and businessmen. But it is going, and Al has been wonderful.
By October, his correspondence with Kershaw reveals an attitude verging on paranoia:
Keep clear of the Freres all you can. Frere sails on the 12th, and you can be called to Oxford or something. Don't be taken in by a social manner which can be turned on at will. They are not real friends. Remember. Don't tell them anything which can be used against either of us. We must indeed dissemble but not be taken in any more.
These feelings have to be contextualised: whether correctly or not, he thought that the whole literary establishment was against him. He told Kershaw that October:
There is no doubt that the Eliot and MacSpaunday interests – who thought my long war silence meant I was wiped out – are growing seriously alarmed. I am to be attacked and silenced. I fight without an ally, with a treacherous public who is ready to betray me against a formidable coalition.
At the end of the year, reporting on Browning's satisfaction with the reviews of Four English Portraits, he warned Kershaw: '[B]ut the opposition have not yet had time to consult and decide on their line of attack – as they clearly did with Pater. I know the bastards. They are most ingenious in thinking up specious lines of attack and quite unscrupulous.' He felt this particularly in relation to the BBC, telling Kershaw, who had, at his own instigation, been having discussions with the Corporation on how it could use Aldington's work, that it was futile to attempt to gain access there. He had received a letter from Church telling him that Roy Fuller had expressed on the Third Programme his regret, in relation to the work of both Aldington and Church, that 'two men of no small talent should have been born too early to be influenced by the poetic technique of Eliot and Auden, who had rescued English poetry from its utter decay'.
Aldington was convinced that Frere's current postponement of a publication date for his Aesthetes anthology, now entitled The Religion of Beauty, was 'tied up with this general counter-attack'. We might remark this re-emergence of the terminology of war in his correspondence (although we should also note that it would be 1950 before The Religion of Beauty appeared). Malcolm Muggeridge had become a reader for Heinemann and Aldington saw him as 'a spy from the Eliot camp in Heinemann's office'. A further irritant was Frere's continuing refusal to consider publishing Life for Life's Sake. Kershaw continued to act as mediator, insisting that Frere's remarks about Aldington were 'invariably warmly affectionate' and that it would be 'wrong to throw him away', but Aldington's tendency to fire off angry letters when the whim overtook him made the young Australian's task a difficult one, causing him to plead: '[P]lease don't write him a savage letter, the thing is to cosset him for your own ends. After all, if he is attacked he'll presumably be WORSE.' He even suggested what shape a 'tactful and amiable letter' might take.
Kershaw's most successful coup was the plan for Heinemann to license Penguin Books to publish ten of Lawrence's works simultaneously with the reprinting of twelve by Heinemann, all to be provided with introductions by Aldington. This major re-launch of Lawrence's work would mark the 20th anniversary of his death. Aldington was not only to produce a monograph for Penguin to issue with the slipcase of the Lawrence editions but also a full biography of Lawrence for Heinemann. The plan was conceived in early 1948 and involved visits to the villa by Allen Lane, founder-director of Penguin, along with Frere, in June and August of that year. Fortunately, these visits went well. Kershaw would tell Gates in an undated letter circa 1980:
There was no evidence that [Lane] had ever read a word of anything published by himself or anyone else, and he was supposed to be a monster in his business activities; but in the insouciant atmosphere of the Villa Aucassin, he proved to be an engagingly ribald and carefree character, and he took us to some memorable meals.
One of Kershaw's biggest challenges was clearing up the problems Aldington had created in respect of his American market. He now had four different British publishers but this had been accomplished with Heinemann's full agreement. In the United States he had spent two years playing off Duell, Sloan and Pearce, to whom he was still contracted, against Viking and E.P. Dutton in a way that not only lost him Charles Duell's goodwill and caused Manuel, still his American agent, considerable embarrassment, but which delayed – and in some cases, prevented – American publication of his work. His concerns were understandable: if an American publisher was only willing to import sheets from a British publisher, the author's copyright was not protected and his income would be lower. However, he did not appreciate what unattractive commercial propositions such works as Walter Pater, The Religion of Beauty, Fifty Romance Lyric Poems and Four English Portraits – and even his Complete Poems – were for American publishers. Duell was attracted by the prospect of the D.H. Lawrence biography and was also hoping for a new novel, but Aldington accused the company of 'wanting to pick out the juiciest plum and leave the others' and, as far as his writing a novel was concerned, insisted that in Britain there was currently a bigger demand for biographies than for fiction. At the end of 1948, Kershaw, on the grounds that he was returning to London and that Aldington needed to be freed from administrative demands in order to be able to concentrate on the Lawrence biography, took over the correspondence with Manuel and made the best of the situation: Duell, Sloan and Pearce imported sheets for the Pater, set up the Waterton biography and took on the D.H. Lawrence but Four English Portraits, Fifty Romance Lyric Poems, the Complete Poems and The Religion of Beauty were never published in the United States.
Throughout 1949, while Aldington was wrestling with the Lawrence biography and the Penguin and Heinemann introductions, there was a stream of visitors to Villa Aucassin, friends and publishers, some welcome, some not. One was another introduction from Kershaw: the writer Henry Williamson, whom the Australian had contacted on his arrival in Britain. Kershaw had read The Story of a Norfolk Farm and was hoping to work on the land with Williamson. The farm, however, folded at the end of the war and the writer had left his wife and six children and moved back to Devon alone.
In The Pleasure of Their Company Kershaw gives an account of his first meeting with Williamson in early 1947. In response to Kershaw's letter, the writer had called on him at the Duttons' Oxford flat. Afterwards:
He took abrupt leave of us. From the window we watched him jump into the Aston-Martin and screech off down Banbury Road. 'Bit of a ratbag, isn't he?' said Dutton without animosity as he poured us a drink.
There was no getting around that: he was a bit of a ratbag. But in his books he had depicted himself as just that – tormented, feverish, slightly cracked. Meeting him, then, one didn't feel one had been tricked. One had had fair warning, so to speak. The man and his books were identical twins. And he was in any case, an interesting ratbag, vulnerable, unsure of himself, yet with a queer strength of his own.... Plenty of people considered him an intolerable egomaniac. Personally, I admired his unabashed belief in himself as an artist and his fervent attachment to his art.
Kershaw knew that Williamson and Aldington had a lot in common. Both had served as infantrymen in the First World War; and both had written novels constituting bitter attacks on the war and its causes; both had distrusted socialism in interwar Britain, although only Williamson – along with Lewis and Pound – had seen fascism as the desired alternative. In the postwar world the two men continued to distrust left-wing politics. Although there had been a single exchange of letters between them in 1929, when Aldington had written to congratulate Williamson on the publication of The Wet Flanders Plain, their relationship was initiated when Williamson took over the editorship of The Adelphi in 1948. He edited the journal for only three issues but through Kershaw – whose own poetry was featured – elicited a chapter from Aldington's forthcoming Waterton biography for publication in the October-December 1948 issue.
On 27 April 1949 Williamson and his new wife, Christine, arrived to spend their honeymoon at Le Lavandou. They stayed for a month. Meanwhile, John Holroyd-Reece of Albatross had called on Kershaw in Paris and was on his way to Saint-Clair to see Aldington. Deasey, currently engrossed in the vain courtship of a young American woman, was staying at Les Sables d'Or. Aldington told H.D.: 'We are rather overrun with people at the moment, several at St Clair and Henry Williamson and his newest wife in Lavandou.... Hope you are not swamped with people. One is so tremendously vulnerable to unintentional intrusions when putting out nervous energy and perception continuously in a long book.' How chaotic such situations could become is evidenced in his letter to Kershaw on 15 May:
Enter the Bird. HW bursts in upon us demanding to know whose Rolls was preventing him from taking out his car. I introduced them and a brief colloquy occurred on the terrace.... The Bird went about 6, Netta went out and returned about 7 just as I was giving Catha her supper, accompanied by Dease... Jean appeared – Punch and Judy – as Dease vanished, caterwauling like a gibcat in excitement at the absurd over-estimate of her tenuous charms owing to D's temporary insanity. Netta went with them to dinner at the Auberge du Dome, Deasey – ever more insane – paying a taxi to bring along Louie and his Commie friend. The Commie – a perfect Christian – waxed ever more indignant over the luxury of omelette and stewed rabbit and when Dease bought champagne and Netta asked him to sing Giovanezza the Commie flung out into the Fôret du Dome and has not been seen since, the others driving home by way of St Tropez (most rightly) without bothering to ask about him.... They turned up at the 'apolaustic' hour of dawn.
Henry and Christine Williamson at Le Lavandou, spring 1949
Despite the distracting circumstances of Williamson's visit, the two men got along well, Aldington telling Kershaw: 'I see what you mean about Henry being nuts, but he is really very sweet and affectionate.' As for Williamson, his 1965 memoir of the occasion displays some striking insights into Aldington's make-up. He remarked that 'the barbed wire was still encircling his heart, the iron fragments of shells in the bone of his skull'. 'But of course,' he continues:
one knew that was only part of the story; for a division of the spirit occurs in childhood, and the war was but a visible extension of that split between a child's parents. The lonely, rebellious soldier was the lonely unhappy child... Richard, one divined, was still a lonely man, bound by invisible fetters forged in the shadows of childhood.
Perhaps these observations seem less remarkable when we reflect that these men had more in common in their lives than their war experience: their problematic lower-middle-class childhoods and their difficult relationships with their parents; and, in adulthood, their constant search for sexual fulfilment and the ideal partner.
To return to Aldington's 15 May letter to Kershaw, what we can read between the lines of that account is that Netta enjoyed the opportunity for livelier entertainment than was on offer at home. Another letter, written to Kershaw at the beginning of the year, gives us some indication of the relaxation that Aldington himself preferred:
We are just back from a lovely Thursday picnic with Catha at the Favière – walked it along the plage of Lavandou, crossed dos arroyos, went over that cape where the campeurs infest the landscape in summer, and sat among the dunes. No one passed except an old couple, artists, taking provisions out to whatever cottage they have out there. There was brilliant sun, a very light north wind, there were tracks of wild birds on the sand, stunted pines and coarse grass and sea plants, we ate bread and ham and pâté and cold veal, bananas and oranges. It was so peaceful, so outside the vile world of too many people. As calm as 1880, if you know what I mean.
He often shared such moments with H.D., in what had become a regular correspondence:
It is full summer here now, and as we are not really far distant in a straight line, I suspect you will have much the same weather at Lugano.... Beautiful, beautiful wild flowers – so many I didn't know or have forgotten grew here. In one place I found many wild gladiolus, tall, slim, with blood-like blossoms, so incomparably more graceful and lovely than the garden ones. All the wild lavender in flower, with long stick-up petals like blue rabbit's ears. Wild mignonette, delicate, and many poppies, the white cistus flowers as abundant on the hills as a storm of snow.
Only days after the Williamsons' visit, Netta departed for London for her first UK visit since embarking for the United States ten years earlier. Aldington told Kershaw: 'Catha and I are getting on pretty middling, She is enormously enjoying her role of lady of the house, discussing house-keeping with Mme Giraud and even – but this will not last – cleaning her shoes and putting away her washing.' Netta was back a few weeks later and, in September, the Lawrence biography completed, Aldington took his first holiday of the year, spending time with his family walking and relaxing on the beach. A letter to Bacon shows us, however, that his world view remained gloomy:
For nearly a year I have been over-working.... At the moment I am taking a vacation at home.... Europe totters on from week to week, only too conscious that it is raised above the starvation line more by the bounty of America than any genuine recovery. Poor old England has taken the place of Turkey as the sick man of Europe and retains only enough energy to cling to its musty social errors and to oppose and often thwart all efforts at the reestablishment of freedom, which alone can bring some prosperity. By having a real showdown with the communists and defeating them France has really done wonders.
Nor was the vacation trouble-free: an angry letter came from his brother-in-law regarding his inadequate financial support for his mother, threatening to make public his neglect of her; at the same time, he received a writ from the Patmore lawyers, his brother not having kept up the payments due to them. He was soon back at his desk working on the Lawrence introductions for Heinemann. A visit from the Duttons prompted the remark to Kershaw: 'Both look extremely well, with that amiable and placid optimism which is one of the many rewards of virtuously inherited and unearned income.' He had the grace to add: 'How spiteful I am.'
Perhaps because he saw him less frequently than either Kershaw or Deasey, Dutton, despite his enormous affection and respect for Aldington, tended to observe him with an element of detachment, and in the summer of 1949 found some despair that had not been there the previous year. He explained in his 1994 autobiography:
Richard, when expansive and relaxed, was as wonderful company as ever. But the world, that deception of magnitude, wounded him too easily. Even in the South of France there was plenty of evidence of man's folly and cruelty, from the wreckage of the war, which could be found in a peaceful corner of the coast, to the growing frenzy of the Cold War. He took it all personally, and seethed with a Swiftian loathing, not of individuals, but of man and his works.
He added:
However, Richard's worst wounds came not from the jagged world but from himself. The bearings of the love-hate seesaw screeched in his soul. For all his profound personal culture, he lacked the nurturing of nature, the fertile simplicity of water and manure on a garden. For him the manure remained shit, the compost did not meld with the soil.
How much Dutton knew of Aldington's upbringing we do not know, but this observation shows remarkable perceptiveness.
Browning also arrived in Saint-Clair in September, with his wife and his mother-in-law, Lady Evans, for a visit arranged by Kershaw, who told Aldington beforehand: 'I hope you'll consider carefully any suggestions he makes. I've told him that the Heinemann set-up is complicated in the extreme. Privately, I believe that it could be tactfully arranged for Browning to reprint you and to have new work – without Frere being too upset.' Fortunately, Aldington took to Browning, who stayed at Les Sables d'Or with his wife and mother-in-law, and he told Kershaw: 'He would have signed me away from Frere at once.' Kershaw's big idea was for Evans to commission Aldington to write a biography of one of his own personal heroes, T.E. Lawrence. Aldington was receptive, telling Kershaw in November that he thought it 'a brilliant idea' and authorising him to talk it over with Browning. He suggested terms, which included a sum of £100 a year, to be matched by himself, in order to pay Kershaw to become his researcher on the project, and Browning's permission for him to approach Duell, Sloan and Pearce about American publication. Kershaw argued that Doubleday – as T.E. Lawrence's own publishers – would be a better proposition, but was delighted by Aldington's interest in the proposal: 'I would anticipate a greater success for this than for the DHL – and an even greater book.' Kershaw himself possessed copies of 'all the books on TEL that exist[ed] only in frantically limited editions' and was having them sent over from Australia. Browning arranged for a copy of The Mint, Lawrence's as yet unpublished memoirs of his life in the Royal Air Force after the First World War, to be made available for Aldington to read.
Kershaw's proposal – ironically, in the light of subsequent events – was an attempt to rescue his friend from a state of despair. In November 1948 Aldington had told Dibben that he was postponing the writing of a novel 'for the sad reason that I haven't the energy to create one at the moment'. Nevertheless, corresponding with Martin Secker in the spring of 1949 over matters relating to the D.H. Lawrence biography, Aldington had told the publisher:
It would satisfy an old ambition of mine if I could publish something with you, for you introduced and supported so many of the writers I admire.... The thing would be to do something really creative – through a chapter of accidents I have got involved in work which is too literary, and I'd like to break free.
When Secker suggested he might like to submit a short novel, he responded with enthusiasm: 'This is a form which can be very effective, and I have a half-formed subject (which only needs developing) in a setting of S.W. Florida, which might interest people.' Now, however, he told Kershaw that he had never before had such a feeling of 'complete blankness and sterility' and did not know how to set about another book. As in the past, the anxiety triggered illness and insomnia – and regrets: 'Of course, it was a mistake to leave America – we should have gone quietly back to Florida.' At the beginning of November he told Dibben:
Since I last wrote there seems to have been nothing but evil news and unprofitable if necessary labours. My old mother, who is 77, has had to have financial help again. Packet of queries from Duells re Lawrence. Then the Penguin proofs. Browning says Albatross has gone out of business – taken over by Stanley Unwin.... And there has been a Witter Bynner book on Lawrence
By December he was laid up with severe bronchitis, but still dealing with proofs for the D.H. Lawrence biography and for the Penguin introductions, and answering the queries from Duell, Sloan and Pearce. By the middle of the month he was out of bed although still feeling 'wretchedly unwell', but he had promised Catha a Christmas trip of a few days to Monaco, where the principal attraction was the Oceanographic Museum and its aquarium, a reminder of the glass-bottomed boats of Jamaica which she had loved. They were back in Saint-Clair on 30 December and three days later Netta left for a flight to Jamaica – via Paris, London and New York – to see her mother for the first time since their departure in 1946. In poor health and confronting financial hardship, Aldington was at a low ebb. The year 1950 would bring troubles with which he no longer had the resilience to cope.
### 17. The Public Face The Old Loyalties
Aldington approached the Lawrence project in a heightened state of anxiety, torn not only between his keenness to do his friend justice and his fears that whatever he wrote would be misunderstood, but also between his own conflicting feelings about the man. As early as April 1948 he was seeking encouragement from H.D. and attempting to use her as a sounding board. This could only ever be a partially successful exercise, given both her agonising memories of her relationship with Lawrence and Aldington's own continued ignorance of those memories. He told her: 'I still feel he was the greatest writer of our epoch, though a bit of a blackguard in some ways and horribly treacherous and gossipy. But he was – and still is – something, and what is the use of being a great writer if you can't be a blackguard too?' He was also wary of becoming involved with the Lawrence 'circle'. 'Trouble is,' he wrote, 'that most of them are nothing in themselves and never had anything in their life but their association with DHL and so cling on most fiercely to their little property and resent anyone else touching it'.
H.D. gave some hint of her feelings in a letter written in June:
I feel sort of sick when I see him – only once – on a book-stall here; the first Mrs – no, Lady C. with an introduction by Frieda giving portrait of the artist as a great man, sitting in a bower, past the cyclamen slope – but – but – Yes; Norman D[ouglas] said, 'he opened up a little window to people in the suburbs'. Somehow, how dreary that preaching of L., 'marriage is thus and so, but I myself, EGO SUM, think it should be, it must be thus and so. I will never ask you who was the father of your children, should we have any after we are married.' It is, isn't it, suburban?
Both the incoherence (a sign of the difficulty she has in speaking of Lawrence at all, particularly to Aldington) and the malice of these comments betray the continuing painfulness of the 1917 and 1918 memories that she had attempted, and still was attempting, to exorcise, both in her sessions with Freud in 1933 and – at the very time she was writing this letter to Aldington – in her redrafting of Bid Me to Live. Aldington may have been surprised by the vehemence of the response, but replied:
I understand your revulsion against DHL. I had a similar feeling recently, as I think I told you, on re-reading St Mawr. I disliked intensely the acrid underdog hatred, not a generous hatred of indignation and scorn, but a hatred of envy and grudging – the very things his better self inveighs against. And then those ridiculous primitives – who are to save the world (from what, mon Dieu?) by going to bed with upper-class women.
Then his ambivalence resurfaces: 'But then there was greatness in him, more than anyone else in our time, I think.'
Ultimately, it was the rejection of Lawrence by the literary establishment that put Aldington on his side. He told Secker:
I suppose you and I know as well as anyone living how disagreeable and offensive DHL could be, but by God when I go over the evidence and see how those people tried to crush him by any foul trick I do feel on his side. And after all on the great (?) side we shall never know anyone like him, shall we? I do admire you for sticking by him.
The ambivalence remained as the work got underway and is charted in his letters to Kershaw. In October 1948 he wrote: 'Lorenzo progresses but slowly, and yet progresses. I find I dislike him more every day. Alas, I shall never find another Duke, who gets better all the time.' Two weeks later he tells his friend: '[T]he moment I read his enemies I rally round him – it's his friends who depress.' Kershaw was reassuring: 'It will be among your best and a piece of magic and will delight everyone.'
As the publication date drew near, his anxieties increased, especially as he and Frere had a disagreement about the photographs to be included, ending in Frere's proposal that they use no photographs at all! Aldington responded irritably:
You must remember that this book will be scrutinised by L's enemies, by my enemies, by your enemies, and by those who think they know more about L than I do. Among the last we have the possibility of Cynthia Asquith, J M Murry, Stephen Potter, Douglas Goldring, Herbert Read, Rebecca West, Edward Shanks, Desmond McCarthy, Peter Quennell, E M Forster et al.
He demanded that Frere be in London for publication date as he anticipated 'violent attacks', particularly from the TLS, which he claimed had 'blackguarded' his work ever since Alan Pryce-Jones had taken over the editorship the previous year.
Frere, however, had understood perfectly that Aldington was the right person to write the definitive study: a close friend and unswerving admirer but with a clear-eyed awareness of the complexities and drawbacks of Lawrence's remarkable personality; a discerning literary critic with a thorough familiarity with the totality of Lawrence's output. The result is a measured, searching but also profoundly touching portrait. There are few references to the two men's personal acquaintance (one being a delightful account of Lawrence in the company of small children at the Villa Mirenda in 1926) but the analysis is rooted throughout in a thorough understanding of the man and his work. Aldington's own battles over the censorship of Death of a Hero and All Men Are Enemies and the refusal of the libraries to stock The Colonel's Daughter made him deeply sympathetic to his friend's sufferings over the banning of The Rainbow in 1915 and the reception of both Lady Chatterley's Lover and the paintings in 1928 and 1929; and his own resentment of the literary establishment was intensified by his consciousness of its failure to acknowledge Lawrence's genius or to come to his support during these crises. It also took a writer who had himself grown up in a dysfunctional family to recognise how profoundly Lawrence's irascible nature was formed by his early training and environment. It is more remarkable that, despite his accustomed resentment of fellow writers who had not served in the Great War, he produced a moving account of Lawrence's persecution at the hands of the authorities in Cornwall in 1917. He also understood the source of Lawrence's revulsion from the war: it was neither pacifism nor a lack of patriotism, but 'that all his instinctive horror and fear of the industrial machine, so acute as to be almost insane, was transferred to the military machine'.
This leads us to the most important reason why he was the right biographer for Lawrence: he shared so many of the latter's values, not only his horror of the military-industrial complex but also his love of the natural world and his belief in the relationship between a man and a woman as the centre of human experience. Of course, Lawrence, as he had insisted on Port-Cros in 1928, believed utterly in fidelity, whereas Aldington was driven by his desires of the moment. Revealingly, he writes of the start of the relationship between Lawrence and Frieda:
Many people would have recoiled, but it is the mean, calculating, cold-blooded, under-sexed types who hesitate in such a dilemma and are cautious and draw back. When real people like these two fall in love they brush aside all the funny little legal rules, and even such genuine human difficulties as the children in his case were.
Given Aldington's own history of infidelity, it is remarkable that he was able to recognise the power of the Lawrence marriage; the book is a moving tribute to Frieda. Her affair with Angelo Ravagli, which began in the last three or four years of Lawrence's life, is not mentioned, but Aldington would have recognised that it never affected the centrality of Lawrence in her life.
Nevertheless, he could treat his subject with detachment. He says of Lawrence's Croydon years: 'At this stage he had not yet elected himself Saviour of Society.' This aspect of Lawrence's personality, 'his habit of unblushing and impudent dogmatism' is generally treated with humour: 'He was terribly at ease upon Sion. He also had to know everything and have the right answer to everything.' Of Lawrence's four-year 'savage pilgrimage', he observes that it was wholly voluntary and consisted:
in having headquarters for a couple of years at Taormina, the most fashionable resort in Italy, with pleasant excursions to Malta, Capri, Amalfi, Rome, Florence, Venice, Bavaria and Austria; in crossing oceans on luxury liners, staying with friends in Ceylon and Perth, living in a large Australian bungalow on the edge of the Pacific and a 'smart new house' in Taos.
The Lawrences, he remarks tartly, spent 'ten days at icy, mountainous Picinisco and ten weeks on the Lobo'.
He makes no attempt to excuse Lawrence's 'peculiar personality': 'His power to evoke warm responses of friendship and love in others was exceeded only by the perverse demon in him which seemed to compel him to outrage and repel the feelings he had himself created, perhaps because he dreaded the possessive claims of those who cared for him.' Recognition of the faults is underpinned, however, by an understanding of their origins, as when he refers to Lawrence's 'attitude of overbearing self-confidence which he assumed to hide his own unsureness and vacillation'. He also notes 'how remarkable it is that he tries to tell the truth – however unflattering – about himself as well as others, he makes no attempt to guild his perversities and very rarely defends himself'. The 'self-portraits' in Sons and Lovers and Kangaroo are cited to demonstrate this characteristic. 'It is truly remarkable,' he concludes, 'that a man should see through his most cherished pretences so accurately and record them against himself so ruthlessly.'
Above all, he was able to appreciate Lawrence's gifts as a writer. Lawrence cared very little, we are told, about 'the art and craft of fiction', using loose poetic forms 'to hold together his life experiences and his preachings'. He did not set out 'to tell a plotted story with carefully worked out "characters", approved "construction" and much painful attention to his "prose"'. For Lawrence, 'the writing of a novel was an adventure of the mind, an exploration of his unconscious self, with his strange chaos of emotions and almost uniquely retentive memory'. Alongside the novels stood the travel writings with their remarkable sense of 'the spirit of place', expressed in language 'not altogether faultless... but of peculiar intensity'.
As Aldington had anticipated, the criticism that met the book on its publication in March 1950 came from one of the former Lawrence coterie, in the person of David Garnett, whose review in The Observer 'corrected' Aldington on several points of fact, although concluding he had written 'a true and just book, worthy of his tragic subject'. Aldington protested, but despite Frere's claim that Garnett's review had 'reflected on the author's integrity', the editor refused to publish Aldington's letter until Frere threatened legal action. Aldington turned to conducting a personal correspondence with Garnett instead and, for once, was able to settle the matter quite amicably. Frere had more success with The Spectator, whose editor agreed that Hesketh Pearson, who had called the biography 'ably and sympathetically written' but had used the opportunity to mount an attack on Lawrence himself ('semi-demented and rather repellent') had acted entirely inappropriately.
In general, however, reviews were favourable. Malcolm Muggeridge, writing in the TLS, thought the circumstances of Lawrence's birth, upbringing and subsequent career and his numerous and turbulent friendships 'admirably conveyed' and his writings 'sympathetically, but acutely, considered'. Nevertheless, he remarked on 'a certain illogicality' of attitude: 'On the one hand [Aldington] wants to present Lawrence as a victim of collective, and particularly English, prejudice; on the other, his own innate good sense makes him draw attention to how maddening Lawrence could be.' However, this was 'a small and perhaps unavoidable blemish, in an admirable biography, honest in intentions, affectionate in spirit and generous in appreciation'. V.S. Pritchett in the New Statesman noted that, while clearly aware of the 'exasperating contradictions' in Lawrence's life and work, Aldington had been sympathetic, exposing, without disparaging, 'some of Lawrence's vices of character'; but Peter Quennell in the Daily Mail felt the book was spoiled by 'the flippant and knowing manner in which Aldington jab[bed] his points home'. '[R]eal talent, let alone genius,' he observed, 'demands a certain regard and respect from those who presume to write about it.' Aldington must have smiled rather wryly on reading this pronouncement from the Daily Mail. For the rest, he expressed his relief in his characteristic metaphors of war: 'I have a feeling we've driven in the outpost lines, and if Frere and Lane attack hard enough with the Pockets and Penguins the enemy's main defences will collapse.'
He was concerned at having heard nothing from Frieda. In April he wrote, only to hear that she had not received the proofs from Duell. A copy of the book reached her shortly afterwards and she wrote enthusiastically:
Many things, as our wills clashing, I had not really grasped, but it's true – I am glad you were nice about Aldous, but you did not say enough, how patient and kind you were and when Hilda took us in at that bad moment you had something to do with it too – you know how scared everybody was of us
It probably did not surprise Aldington that the most unfavourable review he received was a lengthy essay by Read in World Review in July. Clifford Dyment's Sunday Times review, although commending the book's 'remarkable... vigour and level-headedness', had pointed out that it left out all discussion of Lawrence's politics and philosophy. This neglect was the central plank of Read's thesis. He called the book a 'denial and a betrayal' of this vital aspect of the work. Lawrence had believed 'that the essential function of art is moral', and his greatest works sprang from 'a mind in revolt against the civilisation it had inherited'. Aldington, Read maintained, had tried 'to save a decorative, an aesthetic Lawrence from the glorious confusion of his work'. What was now needed was 'a more fundamental consideration of the art and philosophy of this irregular genius'. Aldington had already suggested that such an exercise was futile:
Those who go to Lawrence for a coherent philosophical system, or require him to state reasons and draw maps for everything he said or wrote, waste their time. What matters is not his opinions or prejudices, but himself, the life and beauty he can transmit more than anyone else of his age.
Read also commented that the book 'might have been more scrupulously documented' but noted that Aldington was no longer one of the 'critical clerisy'. This is one of those occasions when we cannot help being persuaded by Aldington's view that the 'critical clerisy', and the Criterion set in particular, welcomed any opportunity to patronise and disparage him.
An insight into how reviewing was used for self-promotion is offered us in the shape of Harry T. Moore's review, which appeared in New York's Saturday Review of Literature. Moore's own first attempt on a life of Lawrence was due to appear shortly and, although he began with some complimentary comments, he was quick to assert that Aldington's book had 'two serious faults': that it had 'no new information of any value', constituting merely 'a rehash of material long in the public domain'; and that it 'fail[ed] to develop adequately some of the secondary figures' in Lawrence's life. Moore ('a somewhat brash academic go-getter', Aldington told Bacon) had even had the review published two weeks before the book's US publication date, thus impacting badly on its sales.
The introductions to the Penguin and Heinemann editions (nine Penguins and twelve Heinemann, of which five were also in the Penguin series) are short by modern standards, consisting of only around 1,200 to 1,500 words each, but beautifully crafted to inform the reader of the personal context out of which each text emerged (so important because of Lawrence's 'unique power of crowding an immense series of emotional experiences into a very few days, of remembering them with precise and detailed variety, and of evoking them with a skill that makes the poet's experience the reader's'), to convey an understanding of the writing process behind the work and to provide an insight into the uniqueness of Lawrence's vision, particularly 'his perception of natural beauty'. Nevertheless, weaknesses are identified, for example the descent of satire into 'almost the level of spiteful gossip' in Aaron's Rod and the 'too naturalistic dialogue Lawrence would not learn to prune', but in general the emphasis is on the originality, freshness and vitality of Lawrence's writing.
While these editions would have a long life, Aldington was disappointed with the sales of the biography, telling Bacon in October that Heinemann had sold only 9,000 copies and Duell 3,500.
* * *
Prior to the Lawrence biography, between 1946 and 1950, Aldington edited selections of Wilde, Pater and the Aesthetes, as well as providing Allan Wingate with an introduction to their new edition of the novels of Jane Austen. We can include amongst the introductions he provided to these works the long essay on Dickens in Four English Portraits, published by Evans in 1948. Ranging in length from 4,000 (Jane Austen) to 18,000 words, Selwyn Kittredge accurately describes these introductions as 'lucid, informed and gracefully written yet full of balanced critical insights such as only a lifetime of reading for pleasure can unfold'.
Indeed, Aldington's love of the Aesthetic writers stemmed from his youth. He tells us in Life for Life's Sake how one day he had come upon 'a dozen or more handsomely bound white books' (the new [1908] Methuen edition of Wilde's collected works) on the table in his father's library. He read eagerly, for, he tells us, '[w]ith all his faults and affectations, Oscar Wilde's attitude was one of yea-saying to life and art'. Editing Wilde for Viking's Portable Series in 1945, he found himself being drawn again to the writers of the 1890s.
The introduction to The Religion of Beauty offers no theoretical discussion of Aestheticism. Reviewing the book in The Sunday Times, Raymond Mortimer commented that there was 'little attempt to estimate the value of the "religion of beauty" itself, apart from individual missionaries'. In fact, Aldington actively refuses even to define the Aesthetic Movement, arguing that 'the whole point of this desultory little campaign is that art is to be enjoyed, not dissected', and adding later: 'If we cannot take Art and Literature with a certain lightness, among the many pleasures of life, let us take to grave-digging as a relaxation.' What we do get is a thoughtful discussion of the four 'Oxonians': John Ruskin and his 'prophetic energy'; Walter Pater with his 'delicate word mosaics'; John Addington Symonds and his 'delicacy of taste and sensibility'; and Oscar Wilde with his 'wit and light touch'. Although there are some 70 poets and prose writers included in the selection (which begins with Ruskin and ends with Taylor), the only other writers mentioned in the introduction – apart from the 'predecessors' of the movement, Shelley, Keats, Tennyson and Arnold – are Whistler, George Meredith, George Moore – and Taylor. Neville Braybrooke in the TLS approved the 'generous selections' and praised the book for being 'no mere piece of compilation but a piece of editorship [with] a design and character of its own'.
The Wilde and Pater selections preceded The Religion of Beauty. Reviewing the Wilde selection in The Sunday Times after its UK publication by Heinemann, Leonard Russell praised the way it brought together the best of Wilde and called the introduction 'strongly sensible and perceptive'. This introduction follows Wilde's career from its early stages, commending the 'wit and charm' of the early poetry, noting how he developed into 'a prose writer of workmanlike quality', and praising the 'brilliant results' as he turned to the fairytale, the short story, the Platonic dialogue and the novel. Aldington commends the dialogues in particular: no other writer had produced dialogues 'so readable, so witty, so coloured, so eloquent and... so solidly constructed and full of thought and good sense'. He notes that Wilde had two distinct styles of writing, 'though he sometimes mixed them... with the happiest results': 'the aesthetic or symbolist, gorgeous and poetic, full of allusion and reminiscence and jewelled words... and the other, light, worldly, cynical, paradoxical, full of laughter'. He concludes his review with a consideration of Salome and the four comedy dramas, pronouncing The Importance of Being Earnest 'a masterpiece'.
In view of Aldington's prejudice against homosexuality – as expressed in Death of a Hero and much of his correspondence, and as witnessed by Derek Patmore – it is of interest to note his comments on Wilde's sexual nature and conduct. He clearly retained his prejudices:
It is a fact (which I suppose we can only deplore) that the male homosexual type often unconsciously annoys and irritates the average heterosexual male.... It was just this which made Wilde unpopular in spite of his wit and charm. The traits in Wilde's character which were stressed to his detriment by his sexual make-up might not be unfairly described as affectation, vanity, folly, and a curious lack of judgement almost approximating a failure to correlate the actual world with his own private world of wish and fantasy.
That he is on thin ground here he concedes with the observation: 'I am not going to venture on so hazardous a piece of psychology as "the homosexual character" (for what then is the "heterosexual character"?)', but he goes on to assert that 'these traits are often exaggerated in men of this type'.
Nevertheless, he displays considerable compassion: 'If we say of Wilde that he brought his fate on himself by inconceivable insolence and lack of judgement, what on earth are we to say of a society which behaved in the savage and unpardonable manner it did in 1895 and after?' We are back with another, and more important, theme from Death of a Hero at the conclusion of the essay when Aldington returns to the 'savagery' of Wilde's sentence and punishment and the 'horrible public persecution to which he was subjected'. He concludes: 'For the victim one can only feel indignation and pity. Nobody was made a whit the happier or the more "moral" by this brutality; there was simply a great increase in hypocrisy and cant, and posterity was deprived of the mature work of a very distinguished writer.'
With Pater, he was on less controversial ground, remarking that the writer 'was never in any danger of connecting himself with a life drama', being 'far too fastidious and timid':
On the whole he is a mystery man without a mystery.... The rulers of Oxford seem to have decided that he was undesirable but comparatively harmless, and the most he had to endure was the negative persecution of frustration and such nagging caricature as is likely to befall anyone who specialises in a subject so unpopular as aesthetics.
Aldington is clearly enjoying himself in this essay. We are first given an account of Pater's early life and career up to the publication of Studies in the History of the Renaissance in 1873, a book which 'repudiated the abstract metaphysical approach to art of the Hegelians and the ethical views of Ruskin' and offered in its conclusion 'an eloquent... statement of the author's "Cyrenaicism"'. We begin to see why this reclusive character was so attractive to Aldington, particularly when he goes on to show the extent to which Pater was ostracised by the Oxford establishment. 'He could never have been a popular author,' Aldington concludes, 'for he makes considerable demands of his readers, but he was prevented by the opposition from reaching the limited audience possible for him and from enjoying the reputation to which he was entitled.'
Aldington conceded that to the 'war-weary generation, scrambling on somehow from day to day', Pater's work might seem remote: 'How will a generation so sorely harassed look upon the writings of one whose chief problem was how to enjoy life with intelligence and sensibility and knowledge?' The last third of the essay is devoted to answering that question through a thorough survey of the work. Pater is commended for 'his serenity, his cheerfulness, his fastidious good taste, his eagerness to put before us the best he has discovered', and Aldington argues that part of his achievement was 'to take subjects which the vulgar consider "dry" and the highbrows vote "academic" and to invest them with new glamour, a wistful attractiveness'.
As might be expected, the book received few reviews, but these were approving, the New Statesman remarking that 'we ought to be grateful to Mr Aldington for reviving Pater without ridiculing him'. Aldington himself was incensed by Church's review on the front page of John O' London's Weekly, but it is hard to understand why. Church made a passing allusion to Aldington's expressed hatred of philistinism, remarking that such 'hates and labellings', while giving drama 'to our relations with each other', had been shown by recent history to be dangerous; but the general thrust of his review was positive, referring to Aldington's 'wide but vigorous scholarship' and to his being a critic 'who refuse[d] to sit on the fence', and commenting that the selection had been made 'with great taste and skill'.
We might wonder why Wingate gave Aldington the Jane Austen commission. For Aldington, Austen was 'a child of the sedate English eighteenth century... out of sympathy with Romanticism', and his criticism of the society represented in the novels ('dominated by two passions, the snobbery of rank and the snobbery of money') does not entirely exclude Austen herself:
[E]very one of Jane Austen's novels has a Cinderella in it, a Cinderella who marries the more or less rich and handsome young man while other girls with more money and less rectory culture either have to take the wrong man or commit the enormity of elopement or (at least on one occasion) the crime of adultery. Strict attention to conventional morality, good manners, and accomplishments will (the novels imply) achieve matrimonial success, while all deviations from the code will be appropriately punished.
We might feel that the qualities Austen values in her characters run deeper than 'conventional morality, good manners and accomplishments', but the argument is persuasive. As in the Pater introduction, the final third of the essay is an enquiry into the writer's (in this case very patent) appeal for a contemporary audience. A successful novelist, Aldington argues, must know how 'to live vicariously the lives of characters and to communicate that vitality by words'. Dickens had that gift, but he also had 'faults of taste: predilection for melodrama, sentimentality, caricature'. While the gift was 'less vigorous, more sedate' in Austen, 'her taste was excellent, and she hardly ever betrayed it except under the pressure of absurd conventions'. So far, we are finding moderate praise, but it is in the conclusion that we feel him warming to her: 'There is scarcely a chapter which lacks some quiet deadly comment on human nature... [but] [s]he never strives for wit, she never abuses her gift of irony.' It is a restraint he clearly envies. He has come a long way from the 23-year-old who remarked (in relation to the work of the French poet Laurent Tailhade) that '[t]he three qualities of bitterness, disdain and obscenity are essential to satiric writing'.
Despite reservations about Dickens, given expression in the comment that 'Like the Prince Regent, whom he despised, Dickens had a great deal of taste. Much of it bad', Aldington reveals in his portrait of the writer a greater warmth of appreciation than displayed in the Austen essay. 'He concludes: 'He was a Philistine all right, but he was a Philistine of genius.' The essay constitutes a compassionate exploration of Dickens's early life and an assessment of the way his early experiences shaped his writing: 'For Dickens was reserved the task of interpreting a world of human beings which his predecessors and contemporaries had neglected, and interpreting it with a knowledge and sympathy very rare in a literary man, owing largely to the peculiar conditions of his early life and later training.' Dickens's limitations are acknowledged but, in Aldington's words, 'with the intention of doing so simply to arrive at a clearer idea of what in him is truly excellent and praiseworthy'. Extracts from the novels are judiciously selected to demonstrate those gifts. The portrait is penetrating and balanced, yet informed throughout by Aldington's admiration. Two preoccupations of his own must have contributed to its success, one acknowledged, the other not. The first is his contempt for highbrow literary criticism, apparent immediately in an opening anecdote about two 'Eminent Critics' and their contempt for Dickens. He points out to such 'aesthetes and pedants' that 'Dickens wished to amuse and touch, to enthral and entertain ordinary men and women, and he has succeeded in doing so for over a century on a scale unsurpassed by any other English writer', and warns, in relation to Dickens's tendency to sentimentality: '[W]e must remember that in these matters of taste no judgment is final, that our attitude... is partly personal but also largely the attitude of our epoch and surroundings.'
The other preoccupation exists only as a sub-text. Of Dickens's boyhood experiences Aldington writes:
He could... not forget the wrong done him as a sensitive, ignorant little boy, nor forgive it, not cease to be haunted by the thought that other children were still suffering, as he had suffered. This intense feeling was basically self-pity, but, then, all genuine compassion arises from having suffered ourselves and from directing the natural self-pity away from ourselves to others.
Aldington, of course, had not been subjected to anything like the blacking factory, but he had endured the humiliation of having a debtor as a father and the consequent educational deprivation. The observation about Dickens's capacity to redirect his sense of self-pity is remarkable in a man who had only imperfectly managed this transition himself.
The success of The Duke and his continuing lack of inspiration for a novel prompted him into, first, the Four English Portraits, published in 1948, and then, the following year and at Browning's instigation, a full-length biography of one of the four, the naturalist, explorer and conservationist Charles Waterton. The Portraits make for enjoyable reading. The preface announces the modest aims of 'sketching a personality and indicating an environment', but, though handled with an ease and informality of manner, the portraits reveal a depth of reading, research and analysis. All are of characters to whom Aldington was attracted, but they are also chosen for what they reveal about the first half of the nineteenth century – an age with whose culture, and specifically its political culture, Aldington was familiar from his work on Wellington. The subjects were also selected for the different strata of that world they each represent, and so we are presented with 'the grand world of "Prinny"' [George IV], 'the lustrous world of Young Disraeli', 'the strange world of Squire Waterton' and 'the underworld of Young Dickens', Aldington's shrewd understanding of the norms of those societies informing his estimation of the personalities and behaviour of his individual subjects. His favourite character is undoubtedly Waterton, about whom he had written an essay in 1932, and 'for whose life and memory [he felt] a personal affection it would be vain to try to conceal', but his portraits of the other three, while more nuanced in their judgements, still display considerable sympathy. He justifies his attention to the Prince Regent's 'quarrels with his parents, his unhappy matrimonial entanglements, his debts and extravagance, his political imprudences' on the grounds that these are what biographers have chosen to record, but he argues that, as regent and as king, George was cynically used by others 'in the game of domestic power politics' and he furnishes us with a much more positive character, distinguished by his culture and taste, his love of literature and the fine arts and his enjoyment of intellectual conversation 'in which he was fully competent to take part'. Most of all, he brings his character to life by making connections with the contemporary world and with his own world view and experiences, as in the observations that 'Prinny had a talent for spending other people's money which would have done credit to a Socialist government', or (more personally) in relation to George's marriage to Maria Fitzherbert, that 'really it is hopeless to apologise for either of two people who commit imprudences because they are violently in love with each other'.
His account of the life – and novels – of the young Disraeli is detailed, and his assessment of his character and actions balanced and dispassionate. He sees his subject as exhibiting extremes of self-confidence, ambition, abilities and failure, but concludes that: 'With all his faults and in spite of illness and debts, Disraeli was one of those who say "Yes" to life, responded warm-heartedly to the good things that came his way.' This account of his subject prompts one of those not-infrequent criticisms of the contemporary world:
In an epoch of intellectual grumpiness and almost insane belittlement, as ours is, Disraeli's sunny enjoyment of life despite infinite worries and set-backs, above all his exuberant enthusiasms and admirations and grandiose dreams, are sneered at as absurd, vulgar, grotesque. The judgment is all wrong. Disraeli was perfectly ready to be serious when compelled, but he held that life is essentially to be enjoyed.
However, it was Waterton for whom Aldington felt the most affection, and he was delighted to be asked by Evans to write a full-length biography. With Dibben's help to locate the rarer publications, he reviewed all the available material before writing his own account. His bibliography provides an assessment of each work he read, and he is keen to point out the errors in Norman Douglas's and Edith Sitwell's contributions to Waterton scholarship, as well as the extent to which Philip Gosse's book plagiarised Aldington's own 1932 essay. We might expect Waterton's membership of the landed gentry, his asceticism, his devout Catholicism and his obstinacy and occasional bigotry to have repelled Aldington, but, while rejecting the hagiographical approach of several writers (including Sitwell), he clearly admired the Squire's love of Nature and desire to protect it in all its forms, his pursuit of knowledge, his kindliness and generosity – but, most of all, his eccentricity: 'A character so artless, a career so grotesque, an eccentric so unique form an irresistible combination.' When he tells us that Waterton 'grew up to be one of the most uncompromising individualists in the most individualist epoch of once individualist England', we anticipate more of that critique of Aldington's own era which characterises the Portraits, and, sure enough, a few lines later we are told that 'in an age when the average, the general, the commonplace in human character and personality are earnestly put forward as the ideal, the summum bonum of humanity, it is difficult to agree with the Squire in his resentment against the title of "eccentric".' In the Four English Portraits Aldington defines the eccentric as:
the man who knows what he wants to do, and simply and openly does it... [who] never thinks of gain or applause, but of the satisfaction of doing, the supreme peace which comes from the object attained – whether it be riding a live alligator on the banks of the Essequibo or standing on one foot on the topmost pinnacle of the Castello di Sant'Angelo at Rome.
For the first time, but not the last, Aldington had written a biography that provoked some sharp criticism – to which he, in turn, objected strongly. Roger Fulford's review in the TLS called The Strange Life 'an entertaining [but] altogether inadequate biography of a curious and distinguished personality' and accused Aldington of having relied too heavily on the account of Waterton written by his close friend, the doctor, Richard Hobson. A further letter to the TLS from Sir Alan Moore, son of the editor of Waterton's Essays on Natural History, took issue with Aldington's criticisms of his father. When Dibben sent him a cutting of the TLS review. Aldington replied: 'Believe me, the TLS is a dirty rag and stooping to dirty tricks to discredit me, who stand simply for the truth and not the Jesuits.' He was convinced – particularly after the appearance of Alan Moore's letter – that Norman Moore had been part of 'a nasty little Roman Catholic conspiracy' in which he had been 'part dupe, part accomplice'. His claim was based on the facts that: Richard Hobson was a Protestant, while the younger Norman Moore, who had known Waterton towards the end of his life, was, like Waterton himself, a Roman Catholic; that Moore had edited out of Waterton's autobiography (included in Moore's edition of Waterton's essays) all tributes to Hobson; and that Stonyhurst College, where Waterton had been a pupil and to whom he had bequeathed his collection, had refused Evans Brothers permission to take photographs of the collection for Aldington's book.
As usual, Aldington's publishers (both Evans and Heinemann on this occasion) had to restrain him from writing to the TLS, aware that the chief damage Aldington did with angry letters claiming conspiracy theories was to his own reputation. He wrote to Dibben: 'I very much hope that someone with a knowledge of the facts may reply for me.' Since Dibben had supplied him with all the books for the Waterton biography and Aldington had been feeding him 'the facts', there is little doubt who the 'someone' was intended to be. If Dibben did write to the TLS, the letter was certainly not printed. Meanwhile, Aldington was amassing all the evidence on 'the case of Dr Hobson and Mr Moore' for a preface to be issued to further impressions of his book. Since no further impressions would be made, it was never published. The whole affair was a small foretaste of things to come.
### 18. The Private Life Crisis 1950
In January 1950, Aldington received two stunning blows, the first of which may have precipitated the second. The Patmore solicitors informed Tony Aldington that he had neglected to pay income tax amounting to £160 a year on Aldington's annual payments to Brigit. Aldington reported to Powell that the sum he owed now totalled £6,000. Frere sympathised and suggested possible strategies, but the problem rumbled on until April when Tony was able to sell a property in Kent that had been left to Aldington by his father. The Patmore debt, however, would pursue Aldington for the rest of his impecunious life.
Meanwhile, Netta had left for London on 2 January. Aldington had no address for her and had to ask Kershaw to pass on the grim news. He was not reassured to hear that Kershaw had not seen her for a week. 'She seemed merry when we did see her, didn't much like me and has not replied to Patsy's messages suggesting that we meet again,' Kershaw told him. Aldington replied: 'Netta seems to have given us all the brush-off. I had two laconic letters, and after a long pause there came a PC to Catha saying she expected to leave London by air on the night of Sunday, the 15th. Since then, niente.'
Despite the reassurances of Kershaw and Frere, he was becoming dejected and anxious. He feared that Kershaw's marriage would keep him in London for good; the tax issue and the lack of communication from Netta were worrying him; and, as so often happened when he was suffering from stress, he was physically unwell. He told Kershaw on 13 January: 'I feel too ill (I have done for weeks, months) and disheartened, to undertake another book, particularly one so strenuous as the TEL. We ought never to have left America.' This nostalgia for the United States resurfaced in a letter to Bacon a few days later, in which he said that Netta had only bitter memories of their time in the States, whereas he had 'never felt anything but at home in America' and had wanted to go back to Florida when they left Jamaica in 1946.
The dejection, as on previous occasions, fuelled his resentment towards the political and literary establishments. He told Kershaw:
You will certainly cast me to Gehenna as a false traitor, but I hate the majority of the British professional and 'upper' class so much I hope the Socialists get in and sock them forever. They know if they fail at this election they are done, and so good luck to Cripps and Bevan. You understand that it's not that I don't hate the vile left but I hate the British more. I wish them Bevan because I think he'll squeeze them till their pips squeak.
Meanwhile, Bacon was subjected to Aldington's views on Eliot: 'It is ten to one that the Archbishop got him his O.M., and persuaded the Foreign Office to recommend him for the Nobel Prize when it was England's turn for the cash.'
Dibben was a further sympathetic listener. Aldington told him that he had had 'a bad go of bronchitis' in December and had had to work in bed for a time and dictate to Netta the index for his D.H. Lawrence book:
I think there must have been an attack of flu in with it, for ever since I have felt run down, languid and depressed – though that is partly overwork.... Then Netta had to fly to see her mother in Jamaica who is elderly [five years older than Aldington!] and not well. I had a cable to say she had reached Montego Bay but it is too soon for a letter. I fear she had a bad flight and got held up en route.
The only correspondent who received a more positive letter was H.D. He was checking the proofs of the D.H. Lawrence essays and told her: 'They make a wonderful and living book, such a complete wipe-out of sterile highbrowism of the self-conscious straining-for-effect type....There is an almost unknown essay on Flowery Tuscany which is so beautiful and sensitive in its appreciation of wild flowers that you'll love it.' He was excited that the Lawrence biography was about to go onto the presses and there was no word of his financial worries or Netta's absence. He continued:
All very quiet here, no tourists and no visitors. I have come to like it best in the winter when one is really peaceful.... The wild jonquils are out, and the sweet alyssum seems to flower perpetually. The English daisy seems to flower all the year round too, except in the August heats. Those pretty little Arum lilies are out, and the wild lavender. When I was up in the hills, the wild thyme was flowering and very fragrant.
It was the first week of February when the second blow struck. A letter finally came from Jamaica. He acquainted Kershaw with its contents on 8 February:
Even more amazing is the brush off from Netta, who writes to say she is setting up as an artist in London, on the usual Ibsen lines. It is done because my prospects are hopeless. The DHL will have only 'a REASONABLE sale', and apart from that there isn't 'a scrap more help or money to come from Frere'. (Not so far wrong.) Various articles are to be sent from here, including drawings and artists' materials, which I believe may not be imported into paradise.... Among other compliments I learn that it would be 'utmost folly' to borrow money to pay off Brigit as the debt 'would last forever' and nobody would lend me money anyhow. Also it would be similar folly for me 'to try to squeeze out another book' until I have 'rested a long time'.
It is useless to argue with Netta over this. You know how blankly obstinate she is, and her vanity was wounded to the core when I told her some months back that she had no talent as a painter. Now I am to be shown what a genius I have insulted. I can't any longer support my family by writing, so SHE will blaze in the Chelsea firmament – a new Augustus Jane.
Do you and Patsy please keep this to yourselves for the time being. I don't want Frere to know about it yet. Netta will be back about the 15th March, too late to do any particular mischief to the DHL.
Quite what 'mischief' Netta could, or would wish to, do to the Lawrence biography is hard to imagine; but this was a devastating blow and came when he was at a particularly low ebb. He lamented to Kershaw:
You see EVERYTHING has gone wrong. Loss of Czechoslovakia, loss of Albatross, failure of my books in France, Scandinavia etc., refusal of Alberto to transfer even the amounts I earn in Italy and to issue fresh books, failure of Four Portraits and Waterton, cabal of Times, Listener, BBC, Eliot and Sitwell gangs etc., loss of Viking, idiocy of Al Manuel and Duells.... Netta is quite right – my career as an earning writer is finished, owing partly to my own imprudence, partly to political events, partly to the malice of enemies.... as Netta so sweetly says, even if I could 'squeeze out' another book it would probably not be worthwhile economically.
On 1 March he forwarded Netta's letter to Frere, telling him:
She went away cheerfully, leaving many clothes and all her drawings etc.; wrote one very affectionate letter from London, then after hearing of this income tax demand a brief and flurried letter saying she thought she would get a job. I wrote her at once to Jamaica suggesting she think again, and got this one in the eye just a little while back. You see she says nasty things about Alister as well – the only two real friends I have are cows according to her. (How women hate a man to have friends!)... Something happened in London, but what?... [Y]ou may wonder why you have to come into it at all. Because, in trying to cheer her up in London over this situation [the income-tax issue] I had quoted from you.
The whole situation is a bewilderment to me.... [Y]ou'll see that any chance of settling down to work is out of the question until these things are settled. I was hoping the income tax thing was over, and indeed wrote Netta twice to Jamaica saying it was, but she never answered. Evidently didn't believe it.
The situation may have been a 'bewilderment' to him and the incentive for Netta's decision may have been his dire financial circumstances, but other observers had seen the separation coming. Dutton tells us that: 'Catha could always take him out of himself; Netta was too languid, and there were ominous signs of terminal exasperation between them.' He gives us a penetrating portrait of Netta at the villa:
[She] obviously welcomed some company; you felt that she was too isolated at the Villa Aucassin. It was all very well for Richard, who worked every day, but she had too much spare time. She was a mixture of self-control and no control. You couldn't shock her or surprise her, she was far too sophisticated, but she undermined her own poise. There would be sudden changes, demoniacal laughter, intense big-eyed stares that made you feel you must quickly say something profound. Then there would be flashes of genuine insight and intelligence. She was drinking too much. Her idleness gave her a need for jabs of self-assurance, when she would tell you (and herself) that she was really rather good at painting and drawing, or that she was reading Proust for the third time.
John Arlott, who, with his wife Dawn, had been a regular visitor at the villa, offers a more sympathetic portrait of Netta, but one which suggests further underlying causes for the breakdown of the marriage:
Netta proved a very sensitive artist. Richard, though, was in many ways too big a character for her.... [She], unfortunately, never grew out of her awe of her husband. It was no surprise when finally she fled to England, took temporary shelter in the Arlott household and then settled down with a man of literary bent but much less of a heavyweight in mind and character than Richard. It was not that affection had died but simply that understanding had become impossible.
It certainly appears that life at the villa had only been bearable for Netta when they had company and that (unlike Patmore before her) she viewed secretarial assistance to Aldington as a chore. His physical illnesses and, more importantly, his anxiety – about his career and his health – throughout the latter part of 1949, must have made him a difficult companion, making the 20-year disparity in their ages more marked. There are even hints of earlier disharmony: Netta seems not to have enjoyed the Hollywood years and, once Jamaica proved unsuitable for them all, to have wanted to return to Britain.
Whether either of them had taken other lovers during their residence in America – or after their return to France – is not clear. Aldington makes several references in the correspondence that he resumed with Gluckman in 1955 to having had 'mistresses' during his marriage (an American, a Scot and an Italian, in particular!), but it was important to him to come across to Gluckman as an experienced and knowledgeable lover, and it is hard to know when he is telling the truth. Furthermore, these stories seem to be at variance with the extent to which his family responsibilities and especially his relationship with his daughter had been at the centre of his personal life since 1938. He told H.D. in 1946: 'We lived too much to ourselves in Florida and Hollywood.' However, he told Gluckman that Netta had taken a lover, 'with [his] permission', when they returned to Paris in 1946: 'I saw she was eager for it, so opposition was useless.' 'Later, in the south of France,' he continued, 'she got more and more restless, because she likes big towns, and I like the remote country.'
It may be that Netta had begun an affair during her May 1949 visit to London and was planning by the end of the year to resume it. Arlott indicates in the passage quoted above that she entered into a long-term relationship once she settled in London. A letter written by one of her friends to Aldington's first biographer, Charles Doyle, shortly after his book was published in 1989, refers to 'the ghastly man [Netta] lived with for years' after she left Aldington. In April 1951 Netta took on the lease of a flat in Knightsbridge with her mother and aunt, who were returning from Jamaica, although by December 1952 she had moved to a Chelsea address. The only other hint about her London lifestyle is Aldington's agitated correspondence with Kershaw in the summer of 1954 when Netta appears to have been intending to visit with a male partner. By this time, Aldington and Catha were living in Montpellier and he told Kershaw: 'If you do see Netta please make clear that her coming to Montpellier with a man and staying with him in a hotel is the most damnable unkindness to Catha.' He explained in a further letter: 'Catha has made friends with the local bourgeois and this "social life" is the breath of her nostrils, as you realise. It would be imperilled if Netta turns up with a lousy Scotchman.' It is hard to associate these comments with the author of Death of a Hero and The Colonel's Daughter. Parenthood – and perhaps jealousy? – had certainly changed his moral outlook. From the absence of further reference to the visit, we must assume that it did not take place. In 1960, he would tell Gluckman: '[Netta] doesn't want to live with another man but doesn't hesitate to have an affair when she wants.' Clearly, if there was a long-term relationship, it had ended by this time.
In the Morris Library archives at the University of Southern Illinois there is a letter from the eleven-year-old Catha to her mother. It is dated 21 May 1950 and its contents make clear that, over four months after Netta's departure, Catha was still not aware that she would not be returning:
How are you, I was so happy to have a letter from you. It does feel a little funny to be by myself with Daddy. I am sorry I made him mad by staying out late. I am happy that you find Paris nice; I would like to be with you.
Deasey is staying with us so we are not completely by are [sic] selfs. My garden is allright even though the little cat is always making holes in it....
Send me some postcards of England and tell me how Patsy and Alister are going, and the whether [sic] in London. Desey [sic] is kindly doing the shopping he says that you should come back and relive [sic] him. Come back soon. With much love, Cathy P.S. Have a nice time.
Catha was not the only one kept in the dark. Frieda wrote on 27 May: 'I am glad that you have your friend Alister & Netta & the child! Now take it easy and relax!' However, Bacon may have worked the story out from the letter Aldington wrote to him on 5 May (the first since the end of January), which declared:
I have had one disaster on top of another until I know not where to turn. The whole culminated in an almost complete breakdown complicated with bronchitis, during all of which I was quite alone and had to steel myself to try to look after Catha. These troubles are far from settled, and the situation has not so much improved as I have begun to grow accustomed to it. An attempt to ruin me financially – on top of it all – has been temporarily staved off, but the future is uncertain in spite of my concentrated hard work, frugal living and general success as a writer. But a concurrence of legal trickery plus the atrocious modern tax laws of England cripples me.... We have had the worst, coldest and gloomiest spring I ever remember on this usually sunny coast.
I must apologise for not writing, but indeed for many weeks I was forbidden to write except through my secretary who has been in London for months labouring to put things right for me.
It was another five months before Aldington could bring himself to tell Bacon: 'Probably you know that Netta, unable to stand the strain, has left me and gone to London.' As for the Slonimskys, it was December 1951 before they were told that: 'Some time back Netta decided that she wanted to live in London and have a job there.' It was his first letter to them since December 1949.
H.D. may have guessed at the truth when his response to the news of Perdita's forthcoming marriage in June 1950 was: 'I do hope Perdita will be happy, but who is? We go through life looking forward to a future happiness which after a certain age we look back upon wistfully in the past.' However, it was only after she expressed concern at a three-month silence – a rarity since the resumption of their correspondence in 1946 – that he told her in October: 'Netta is in London to get a rest from me', and explained that he had had a breakdown from over-work and 'infinite worries'.
* * *
The T.E. Lawrence biography, on which he was starting to work, was by this stage causing him intermittent concerns. When Frere offered his personal support for the project in late March, Aldington told Kershaw: 'TEL was a murderer, a warmonger, and Frere hopes to push me into accepting and praising the war attitude, by writing a book on TEL.... I MUST stand up for the reality of life against all these official murderers and propagandists, these British Councillors.' He told Bacon in June 1950: 'To keep going I've had to sell my name to a newish English publisher [Evans] and have bound myself to write a book I don't want to write and which is daily misery to work.'
His mood fluctuated, however. His access to The Mint made him warm to Lawrence and he wrote to Kershaw in July: 'I am converted to him by The Mint, with the strong feeling that while he was a great guerrilla general I was a better private soldier', while he told Dibben that The Mint was 'the most human thing [Lawrence] wrote' and that there was 'nothing in it you and I haven't seen and endured in the ranks'. Deasey was told in mid-November: 'I think I can be a great success if I do the job honestly and objectively', but, ominously, Aldington added: '[H]ard for me, since I dislike his pride that apes humility, his arrogance and Oxford posing and bloody lies.' As late as December he was telling Dibben: 'In spite of my numerous literary enemies, I believe I can make a good and readable biography with a new slant, if ONLY I have health, quiet, and enough time and cash.'
Nevertheless, by the end of the year he felt uneasily that there was something he was missing. He told Kershaw:
I know it sounds foolish to say so but the real biographical material is so scanty though the stuff to be got through is wearisome and voluminous. TE does at times reveal himself, but mostly he is hiding behind his words. I think he is harder to know than any other character in history.
* * *
Fortunately for Aldington, he had a tight network of friends to whom he could turn for support. Of his three closest pre-war friends, he had lost touch with MacGreevy, while his relationship with Frere blew hot and cold (although Frere would always offer him comfort in the bad times), but the saddest loss was that of Prentice. He and Aldington had been briefly reunited in Paris in 1946, but Prentice was married by then, in very poor health and seeking a warm climate. In 1947 he and his wife were in South Africa, planning to settle in Cape Province, but they changed their minds and decided on Cornwall. There they purchased a 'tumbledown cottage' with 'a wilderness' of a garden. 'We'd love to come and see you and Netta and Catha,' he wrote wistfully, 'But how? How I'd love, too, lots of long talks.' In July 1948 he told Aldington that they had had a worse time getting settled than in any other place they had attempted, and in November he was recovering from four weeks of flu in 'this hellish climate'. By January 1949 he and Lyn were in Nairobi and he had been 'rather ill for several months' but told Aldington that 'this wondrous country and a Rhodesian doctor are leading me to new high levels of confidence and hope.' In March they flew back to Cornwall to sell their house in order to settle in Kenya. 'I nearly went west last winter in Cornwall, it was only Lyn that pulled me out,' he confided in May, when they had returned to Kenya. By the end of the year he had died of heart failure. Sympathising with Bacon for the loss of a friend, Aldington wrote: 'Only a few months ago I lost my dear Charles Prentice, who was quite literally harried to his doom by the selfishness and neurotic restlessness of his wife.' His affectionate tribute to Prentice in Life for Life's Sake would be echoed in Pinorman.
His American friends would continue to be supportive in the solitary years ahead, although Bacon died in January 1954 and Slonimsky ceased to write letters, leaving the task to Miriam (who, Aldington told H.D., was 'bigotedly Zionist') as he became increasingly depressed by his difficult circumstances at the New York Jewish Institute of Religion. According to Aldington, he was under attack for being 'too humanistic' and in 1952 was forced to retire, after 26 years as Dean of Faculty. Aldington felt great sympathy for him, telling Miriam:
It is hard to abandon the eloquent teaching in which he excels, and sad to think that the noble tradition he had tried to create may be altered by successors. But by the formation of so many fine minds he has influenced his epoch more than most intellectuals are able to do.
In 1954 he would ask the Slonimskys to welcome his oldest friend, Randall, now Sir Alec Randall, to New York as the latter arrived as a British delegate to the United Nations. 'He is,' he told them, 'the kindest and sweetest of men wrapped up in his children and in his intellectual interests.' Randall's close friendship with Read may have made Aldington slightly wary of him in this period, but there was a long-standing affection between the two men, which is vouched for in the moving piece Randall contributed to the Intimate Portrait of Aldington that Kershaw compiled after the latter's death.
The breakdown of the marriage ended some friendships. Powell spent a sabbatical year in Europe from 1950 to 1951, bringing his wife with him. The fact that the couple met up with Netta in London and were also forced by bad weather to cancel a Christmas reunion with Aldington and Catha in France brought about an eight-year gap in the correspondence; and, in welcoming Netta to London, the Arlotts lost Aldington's friendship altogether, as Arlott ruefully acknowledges in his memoirs. Warman, however, continued to be a loyal friend and the tables began to be turned in this relationship, Warman providing understanding and practical support – for Catha as well as her father – throughout the rest of Aldington's life.
Another, increasingly valued, friendship was with William Dibben, the amateur book-dealer on whom Aldington came to rely hugely for his T.E. Lawrence research. Aldington's letters to Dibben mainly concern the books the latter obtained for him, but they broaden out to cover their shared interest in (often obscure) works of literature and also in stamp collecting, an activity which Aldington and Catha had taken up. Dibben had visited the Villa Aucassin in the spring of 1949 but, despite Aldington's frequent invitations, the relationship became purely an epistolary one subsequently, although Kershaw, before moving to Paris in 1951, regularly met up with Dibben in London. Aldington would write to Dibben in March 1955: 'It's my idea of a pleasant evening to sit down at the typewriter after a day's work for a gossip to you.' Sadly, the last letter referring to Dibben is one Aldington wrote to Kershaw in February 1957, expressing his concern that he had not heard from Dibben for over a year: 'He has been a very good friend and I hate to lose him.' Dibben had mentioned health problems – including an operation – in his letters, so perhaps we should conclude that he had died.
Another important – and supportive – friend in the 1950s was the elderly Gustave Cohen, retired professor of mediaeval literature at the Sorbonne. Aldington had translated the fifteenth-century Liégois mystery play Le Mystère de l'Incarnation et Nativité de Notre Saveur et Redempteur Jésus-Christ, which Cohen had unearthed, as far back as 1924, and the two men had met in the south of France in the 1930s, but the friendship developed during these later years through regular correspondence and twice-yearly meetings. Apart from their literary interests, the two men had their war service in common. ('You should see a real hero,' Aldington told Warman. 'He has been a cripple since 1915 when he was wounded on the Argonne.') In 1956 Cohen translated A Dream in the Luxembourg and was completing a translation of A Fool i' the Forest at the time of his death in June 1958. 'Travelling further,' wrote Cohen after one of their meetings, 'I felt wrapped in your warm friendship. In fact wine, excellent food, sensitive feelings played in my soul like a trio of exquisite human harmony.... I must add that Catherine's dear presence transformed that trio often in a quartet.'
In early May 1950, Aldington at last became personally acquainted with Campbell, who rented a cottage that summer at Bormes up in the hills, only six miles from Saint-Clair. He came with his 28-year-old daughter Tess, who had suffered a nervous breakdown in 1946 and had since made only a slow recovery, and they were joined in July by his wife Mary and their younger daughter, Anna, who had been on a pilgrimage to Rome. They stayed until late September and Campbell was almost a daily visitor at the villa. Aldington told H.D.: 'A great fellow, Roy, physically a colossus, though crippled with the war wounds and malaria, which did not somehow reach the heroic defenders of the BBC. A good poet, but above all a man – rather a rarity in modern England. True, he comes from S. Africa.' However, he would tell Williamson a few years later:
You must read Roy but with the same kind of approach one must have to DHL – i.e. he is a good poet and a life-lover with a special understanding of wild life, but his violence and militant Fascism-Catholicism are rather a bore (like DHL's solar plexus).... Roy has a Rabelaisian exuberance, and is a born jester, but is incapable of representing anything accurately.
'Roy's preposterous tales, his love of life and people set the place glowing whether the wind blew or not....I think [he] was the most vital man to go through this oasis and staging camp for writers at St Clair,' Deasey would tell Gates in 1980.
Despite some important differences, Aldington and Campbell had a great deal in common. Aldington would tell Alan Bird (another new acquaintance): 'I no more accept his Catholicism than his bull-killing, but I can tell you that he is one of the most warm-hearted and generous men I ever met, keeps the table in a roar. And he is a very great poet, certainly our greatest satirist since Byron.' Grouping together Aldington, Campbell and Lawrence Durrell (who would become another close friend in 1957), all of whom chose to live outside the United Kingdom, Richard Emeny argues that their individualism and their aversion to the welfare state, which 'put them at loggerheads with conventional mainstream social and political thought of the time', affected the reception of their work. Certainly, the literary left could not forgive Campbell for his support of Franco in the Spanish Civil War. For these three men, however – unlike Lewis and Pound, or even Eliot – their right-wing politics were never theoretically developed, nor, individualists as they were, did they ever subscribe to a political party. Campbell's biographer Peter Alexander comments that Campbell 'had no theoretical political views, he had only personal likes and dislikes. He was in no sense a deep political thinker. His attempts to weld his political likes and dislikes into a coherent system invariably failed.' Aldington's own 'politics' are best summed up in an observation he would make about the Provençal poet, Frédéric Mistral: '[His] attitude was rather the reaction of the Conservative who sees all that he values in life menaced by forces beyond his control.' His reaction in 1955 when Oswald Mosley made overtures towards him, was: 'Mosley's crowd are making great efforts to recruit me, thinking that the treatment I have received from the Brits will have disposed me to their brand of disloyalty. I prefer my own; and shan't answer them.'
Roy Campbell, 1951
Campbell had, nevertheless, been at the heart of the literary establishment – albeit as a maverick: a producer at the BBC, a friend of the Sitwells and published by Eliot at Faber & Faber. He told Aldington in February 1951: 'If you come back here [London] you will find that everything wakes up.' Aldington had neither the means nor the inclination for such a move, and Campbell himself moved permanently to Portugal a year later. For Aldington, their rejection by the literary establishment was a conspiracy. He would tell Campbell's young friend Rob Lyle in 1955:
There is a complex of vested literary interests. First, hereditary – as Stracheys, Stephens, even Huxleys – though Aldous is now conspué for not playing the game. Second, there are the Civil Servants, especially the F.O. and Museum gangs. Third, the nominees of publishers, particularly wealthy firms like Macmillan, Unwin, Collins and even Heinemann. Fourth, this infiltration of Panzies which began with Frankie Birrell and [Raymond] Mortimer in the early twenties. In league with the sexologist quacks and the bloody Freudians, they seem to have persuaded our block-headed countrymen that buggery is next to godliness. Ridicule and contempt are the weapons, those are denied to us as libellous. Look at the things they've printed about me and Roy, and they did much the same to Lewis and to Pound, and in very early days to Eliot.
One footnote to that summer in Provence was Campbell's discovery – fortunately (given his customary belligerence) months afterwards – that Kershaw had conducted a flirtation with Campbell's 24-year-old daughter Anna, a fact that the furious Patsy had communicated to Campbell's wife, Mary. Back in London, Campbell would write to tell Aldington that their stay in France had been 'perhaps the most enjoyable time in our whole lives' and that it had 'worked a sheer miracle' on Tess's health.
Shortly after Campbell's departure, Williamson arrived for a fortnight's visit. The two men would continue to correspond, Aldington managing, despite his own difficult circumstances, to offer Williamson sympathy and understanding: 'I break off work on the TEL book,' he wrote in February 1951:
to write to you, having a persistent intuition that you are unhappy and even a bit desperate about yourself and your situation. Forgive me if I am intrusive! I only want to hold out a hand on the end of a 1,000-mile arm to yours in Devonshire and to assure you of goodwill and sympathy. I wish I could do more, something practical, something which would perhaps help you to change tyres, clean the carburettor, tighten the brakes and be off again.... I feel sure you need a rest and a change even more than I do.
Pound was still incarcerated in St Elizabeth's Hospital in Washington, D.C., and Aldington was opposed to the efforts of many of his friends to have him released, arguing that this would constitute recognition of his sanity and that he would consequently have to stand trial for treason. Nor did he support the award of the 1949 Bollingen Prize to Pound for his Pisan Cantos. He told Bacon: 'I thought the engineering of that prize for Ezra by Tom [Eliot] was an insult to Congress, for after all, damn it, even if Ezra was cracked, he wasn't cracked on our side, but on the side of Musso and Hitler.' He also refused the invitation to contribute to Peter Russell's collection of tributes to Pound in an issue of his magazine, Nine. Telling H.D. that he had not got on very well with Russell ('Ezra-booster Number One in London') when he had called to see him, Aldington commented:
They have taken up Ezra for motives mainly political and selfinterested.... Of course there are good things, flashes in E's later work, but to me the Cantos seemed the product of a diseased mind long before the Yank doctors said he was paranoiac. I came to that conclusion when Brigit and I spent the winter of 1928-29 with him at Rapallo. He was still very sweet at times, but certainly suffering from delusions of persecution and of grandeur.... If I ever get round to writing anything on Ezra, I want to try to revive the memories of those magical early years in London.
By June 1951 his feelings had softened and he began ('unwillingly' he told H.D.) to correspond with Pound. 'Except that he persists in writing like one of the Katzenjammer Kids, Ezra sounds no more insane now than in 1912,' he told H.D. in July: '[H]e sounds well and fairly cheerful and good-natured.' Three weeks later he reported that Pound seemed cheerful 'except that he says his "mainspring is busted"'. He had begun to feel more sympathetic, particularly because of his growing awareness of the poverty of Pound and Dorothy, although he insisted: 'Still, he did behave like a chump.' The correspondence was becoming a regular one and Pound, as in the past, had plenty of advice for him, including a suggestion that he write a biography of Ford. Aldington's only comment to H.D. – clearly in connection with his ongoing work on T.E. Lawrence – was that 'biography is such hard work, such day-in, day-out drudgery of verification and "fact-searching"'.
An unwelcome reminder of their shared past came in Pound's letter of January 1952: 'Pleasant enquiry from Brigit as to whether I heard from you /as nacherly [sic] brot [sic] no address bks from woptalia, only located Br / a few months ago.' Aldington sent Pound some of his own recent publications; Pound's response to The Religion of Beauty was: 'VERY good thing to have it printed/ time to git [sic] relief from goat and garbage can movement. Yu pult [sic] in a few s.o.b. that might be forgot BUT it is clean of Georgian dead fish.' Pound was, Aldington told H.D., beginning to write incessantly and Aldington had started to think, after all, that he was 'a bit cracked'. 'I hear frequently from the interned State captive at St Elizabeth's Washington D.C.,' he told Bacon in March 1952, 'and I still cannot make up my mind whether he really is nuts or not.' He also began to feel in an awkward position when Pound asked him if he could get his work reprinted. He was clearly not aware, Aldington told H.D., 'of prejudice; of how highbrow his stuff is; of the resentment TSE would feel,' if Aldington 'butted in'. At times he was the old irritating Pound: 'still so coterie-minded, so full of blind prejudices based solely on personal motives'. 'Am I too cantankerous about him?' Aldington asked.
The regular correspondence with H.D. continued to be vital to them both. There are moments when a note of defensiveness reminds us of his continuing wariness of the Bryher set. In response to the receipt from H.D. of cuttings of reviews of his D.H. Lawrence biography, he wrote:
Perhaps I am wrong, but I think perhaps you are inclined to give more importance to newspaper comment and highbrow periodicals than I do. I don't subscribe for clippings, barely glance at those which people are good enough to send me. But I do care very much about the response of the public, and that is satisfactory, especially since there is a fierce slump in the book market.
In the autumn of 1952 he heard from H.D. that Pat Aldington had managed to obtain Perdita's New York address and had written to ask her to correspond with May Aldington, who was now in a residential care home and lonely. Aldington was mortified. Of course, his family believed that Perdita was his daughter, but he knew that this approach by his sister was the prelude to the 'begging letters' at which his mother was so 'accomplished'. He apologised and insisted that Perdita should not respond to any letters; if necessary, they should be sent on to him so that he could give his mother one of his 'broadsides'. In fact, he had ceased to write to his mother altogether, although he was giving her financial support. He told Tony in November 1950: 'In the various experiments I have made to get on terms with her, she has never sent me a letter which was not either nauseous and repulsively sentimental and/or a whine for money or abusive.' A year later he was shocked when Ursula Bloom, his childhood friend, not only wrote to him about his mother's situation c/o Heinemann, but sent the publishers a covering letter telling them how badly Aldington and his brother were treating their mother.
The letters that passed between Aldington and H.D. are long, affectionate and filled with their news and common interests. As Zilboorg notes, 'Aldington's intimate connection with H.D. depended on ties established in the past and on the exchange of daily and parallel experiences rather than physical presence or a new phase of relationship.' The coded references to their shared past are a constant motif. In December 1950 he sent her a copy of Browning's The Ring and the Book: 'I thought you might like it for the sake of old memories.' He continued, too, to send her from time to time erotic postcard photographs of women or of women in art. Their reading and their writing, news of their daughters, their renewed interest in Pound and, above all, their enjoyment of their natural surroundings filled their letters.
His lifeline, however, was the young Australians, chiefly, of course, Kershaw, whose patience with him and diligence in his literary affairs were unflagging. As soon as it was apparent that Netta was not returning, Deasey arrived to help keep house for several weeks. That summer the Duttons were living in their cottage above the villa and took Aldington and Catha to Nice to celebrate his birthday with a fine meal, while Kershaw spent a month helping him sort out his affairs – before going on, with Patsy, to join Warman for a holiday in Frere's villa at Cap Ferrat. They were back in the autumn, Patsy to run the household and Kershaw to resume secretarial duties, but Aldington's income could not support them all and the couple had to return to London and seek work. By 1951 both Kershaw and Deasey had moved to Paris, visiting whenever they could, but tied to jobs in the city. Kershaw, nevertheless, continued to give Aldington all the support he could.
Within a couple of years Aldington would lose both the Duttons and Deasey. The Duttons returned to Australia in 1951; Deasey lived and worked in Paris much longer but by late 1954 he and Gisèle were finding themselves unable to survive there financially and moved, reluctantly, to Australia. The Duttons would return to Europe twice, once from 1954 to 1955 and again in 1960, but Aldington would never see Deasey again. 'Australia sounds wonderful, and I do wish I were with you both,' he would write to him in January 1955.
* * *
Despite the convivial interludes supplied by the visits of the Australians and Campbell, 1950 had been a harrowing and life-changing year. In October Aldington told Bacon:
After a lifetime of hard work and many fair words from those supposed to know, I find myself at 60 [actually 58] with most of my books out of print, none of them selling and forced to go on writing what I don't want to write when I am tired and ill and discouraged.
He told H.D. in November, after visiting the doctor:
At last I have found out what is the real trouble with me – overwork for too many years. For so long I've worked 12-14 hours a day for weeks on end without a single day off. Well, I can't do it no more [sic]. I've got to cut down to 5 days a week, and not more than 5-6 hours a day at that. This of course means a rather serious cut-down in output and reduction of income, since it is the new book which really earns. So I've had to construct (reluctantly) my own austerity plan, for I've made up my mind that Catha shall not suffer. I had cut out most things, so that practically all that remains is guests, books and wine. I gave up smoking nearly ten years ago.
Frere was understanding: 'I know something about that kind of a breakdown and how baffled and helpless one feels. (I had a succession of them after 1918 and conquered them by concentration.)' With unconscious irony, he added: 'At least with that TEL book, you can take your time as well as feeling you are doing something worthwhile by putting that legend into its proper perspective.'
### 19. The Public Face Disaster
If the First World War had a devastating long-term effect on Aldington, the 'Lawrence saga' of 1950-1955 had an even more shattering impact on his life, his personal reputation and his career; and the reverberations carry on to the present day. The term 'Lawrence saga' is used here to refer to the events of the five years that followed Kershaw's proposal in 1949 that Aldington write a biography of Kershaw's own personal hero, T.E. Lawrence: the research and the writing of the biography from early 1950 through to April 1952; the legal and other challenges and delays that followed his submission of the manuscript to William Collins, lasting until the autumn of 1954; the publication of the book at the end of January 1955; and the furore which lasted for months afterwards.
A full account of these events is presented in Fred Crawford's 1998 book Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia: A Cautionary Tale. This chapter will attempt only to summarise the events of those five years, to estimate their impact on Aldington himself, his literary career and reputation and to ask, ultimately, whether things could have been otherwise.
* * *
We left Aldington speculating about what the enormous amount of material he had amassed on Lawrence was concealing. He told Kershaw on 2 January 1951:
I feel that the job is too big for me. The biographer needs to know so many subjects and, above all, to be a trained psychologist. There is some unresolved mystery about him, which has many aspects, one of which I am sure is homosexuality. You will be staggered when you see my collections of his anti-heterosexual and pro-homosexual statements.... It is a colossal subject to treat with competence, and most difficult to treat frankly without being or seeming hostile.
T.E. Lawrence
Two days later he told Williamson: 'There is some mystery about his family, a skeleton somewhere.'
When, towards the end of that month, he began to unravel the mystery, he was at first reluctant to believe it. It was the well-hidden fact (although Lawrence himself had been made aware of it when still a child) that Lawrence and his brothers were illegitimate. Aldington would be publicly condemned for his lack of decency in revealing this fact while Lawrence's mother was still alive. However, for him: '[T]o attempt to tell the story of Lawrence while ignoring this situation is like putting on Hamlet without the king and queen and, above all, without the haunting ghost.' He theorised:
[M]ight not the main clue, though perhaps not the only one, to Lawrence's peculiar psychology lie in his relation to his parents, in his discovery of what they thought their sin and its irreparable wrong to him, as well as to the dissonances set up in him by the influence of two powerful and opposite human personalities?
To support his argument, he paraphrases a letter from Lawrence to Charlotte Shaw, one of over three hundred available for public inspection in the British Museum but from which he was refused permission to quote. (Fortunately for him, Deasey spent hours in the British Museum copying them out.) However, he acknowledges that: 'the fact must not be abused and dragged in to explain everything – he had his own remarkable gifts, and was as powerfully influenced by his environment in some respects as he violently reacted from it in others.' Furthermore, he expresses characteristic sympathy for 'yet another highly-gifted man, sacrificed to nineteenth-century snobbery, hypocrisy, philistinism and "respectability" in a generation which was supposed to be in violent revolt against them, he above all!'
What concerned him much more was his discovery, as he delved further into his sources, that much of Lawrence's own account of his actions in Arabia between 1916 and 1918 was exaggerated or even false. Furthermore, he realised that those who had formed and perpetuated the 'Lawrence legend' had been almost entirely reliant on information furnished by Lawrence himself. These were: Lowell Thomas, whose 1919 lecture-film show, With Allenby in Palestine and Lawrence in Arabia, played to massive audiences around the world and was followed by a book, With Lawrence in Arabia, in 1924; Robert Graves, whose Lawrence and the Arabs appeared in 1927; Basil Liddell Hart, whose 1934 book, T.E. Lawrence in Arabia and After, made a case for Lawrence having been one of the greatest military strategists of all time; and Vyvyan Richards, a pre-war friend of Lawrence, whose Portrait of T.E. Lawrence was published in 1936. Studying the correspondence between Lawrence and both Graves and Liddell Hart, Aldington discovered the extent to which Lawrence had influenced the content of these writers' books while requiring them both to publicly deny his involvement.
He told Kershaw in the summer of 1951 what his own alternative sources were:
Though I have used 7 Pills occasionally I have avoided repeating Graves's mere paraphrase of L's narrative and above all Hart's incredibly pretentious 'military history', using as authorities the Secret Despatches, the Official War History, Wavell, Barrow, Brémond, Bray, Young, and any outside authority who is not merely parroting TEL.
To this list he added, in a further letter, George Antonius, King Abdullah, Sir Ronald Storrs, Colonel Robert Buxton, General Allenby, Captain Rosario Pisani and Colonel Walter Stirling. With the help of Cohen, he also managed to gain access to official French documents of the period. Another source was a book that had questioned aspects of the Lawrence legend as far back as 1929, Sir Andrew MacPhail's Three Persons. Aldington's own book became, as he states in its 'Introductory Letter', 'a criticism of those writings which have fostered the Lawrence legend... an analysis of the career of Lawrence the man of action and of the establishment and growth of... the Lawrence legend.' Hence its title, Lawrence of Arabia: A Biographical Enquiry.
Testing and disproving several of Lawrence's tales about his early life accepted unquestioningly by his earlier biographers, Aldington concludes:
Of course it can and will be said that hitherto these exaggerations and untruths I am pinning on Lawrence are trifles, and so they are, though truth itself is not a trifle. But it so happens that they can be convincingly shown to be untrue, while in other cases one may be perfectly certain the tales are false without having complete evidence to prove it. But what are we to think of a man so self-centred, so – there is no other word for it – conceited, so avid of réclame at any price, that he would stoop to such trifling deceits? And if he would deceive in trifles, for the sake of a worthless astonishment and admiration, what guarantee is there that he did not do likewise in more important matters where he cannot be so convincingly checked? And further, what is the value of a reputation which is based on a multitude of just such disprovable or suspect stories?'
Ultimately, one issue became a 'test case'. Lawrence had told several correspondents, including his mother, Charlotte Shaw and Liddell Hart, that Churchill had offered him the post of High Commissioner for Egypt, both when Lord Allenby had threatened resignation in 1922 and when he actually left the post in 1925. Churchill wrote in T.E. Lawrence by His Friends (1937) that in 1921, when Lawrence left the Colonial Service, 'governorships and great commands were then at my disposal. Nothing availed.' He had, he claimed, told Lawrence: 'The greatest employments are open to you if you care to pursue your new career in the Colonial Service.' As Aldington points out, this was several months before Allenby stated his intention to resign his post; furthermore, Egypt came under the auspices of the Foreign Office, not the Colonial Office.
To test Lawrence's veracity, Aldington had, through Browning and Colin Mann (then Public Relations Officer of the Conservative Party), queried the likelihood of the offer of this post to Lawrence with Leo Amery, who had been Colonial Secretary in the Conservative Government of 1924-1929, with Lord Lloyd, whose father had been appointed to succeed Allenby in 1925 and with Lawrence's friend Storrs (the author of the entry on Lawrence in the Dictionary of National Biography). The first two said that they had never heard of the offer and thought it extremely unlikely, while Storrs called it 'grotesquely improbable'. Frere (coming in useful, after all) had also arranged for Lord John Hope, the Conservative politician, to put the question to Churchill, who had answered (in writing) that Lawrence's claim was 'unfounded'.
While gathering his evidence and writing the book, Aldington was in touch with Williamson, who had been a friend and admirer of Lawrence. Williamson and Lawrence had met only twice – and briefly – but their correspondence had spanned the seven years from Lawrence's writing to praise Tarka the Otter in 1929 until his death in 1935. Williamson's behaviour towards Aldington during the Lawrence saga was duplicitous – and he would acknowledge this and apologise for it in 1956. Initially, he was of great help, undertaking the task of writing to the publishers of Who's Who to ascertain whether Lawrence himself was responsible for his 1920 entry and sending Aldington copies of his own Lawrence correspondence. When he sensed that Aldington was sceptical about Lawrence's career, he told him: 'Write your book as though you were writing of Cathy [Catha]. We love TEL as you love Cathy and he is like a son to me.... You have a noble subject. He won't let you down.' By 1954, when it was clear that the book was to be an exposure of Lawrence, Williamson contributed a two-part essay to The European, in which he wrote: 'Even if the much publicised (by others) and mortifying (to T.E.) Arabian Adventure turns out to be moonshine or mirage it will make no difference to my feelings about T.E. himself, as I knew him and perceived what he truly was, a wonderful man.' In a review of The Home Letters of T.E. Lawrence and His Brothers in the November issue of the same journal Williamson wrote: 'Since I wrote my Threnos I have been shown papers and letters which dispel all doubt.... He was entirely truthful; and the records will eventually prove it.'
After the publication of Aldington's book, Williamson wrote to David Garnett, whose review of the book in the New Statesman had been damning, and told him: 'I read your review... with gladness and admiration.... I wrote to R.A. again and again (knowing how amateurish, "twenty-ish" mood was his writing in novels and character-drawing in sarcasm, jeers etc.) and begged him not to write like that about TEL.' Realising that he had better reveal his own personal acquaintance with Aldington, he told Garnett that their relationship was one of 'mutually guarded amity'. Anne Williamson comments:
Sadly... in his anxiety to appease David Garnett (for HW couldn't afford to make open enemies amongst publishers) and show his loyalty to TEL, HW betrays what should have been his equal debt of loyalty to Aldington. For this letter is not at all fair to Aldington; HW does not exactly do justice to their total friendship, nor to the intricacies of their total correspondence nor to Aldington's reputation as an established and respected writer.
Aldington would never know of this letter but he did warn Williamson only a week later: 'The poison gas cloud of lies, malice, rage, put out by the little phoney's "friends" baffles description. Keep out of it, Henry, never mid [sic] which side. It is a very dirty business and I wish I had never got mixed up in it.'
Even Kershaw had expressed anxieties about the direction Aldington was taking. On the one hand he tried to reassure him, telling him in March 1951: 'As always, you are more conscientious than your peers... and this, inevitably, is a vast strain on you; but the book will be a masterpiece, I suspect the best thing you have ever done... and may well solve your financial problems.' On the other hand, he was anxious about Aldington's growing hostility towards Lawrence and constantly tried to counsel caution. By July he was writing: 'I shiver when you mention TE. Do not hoe him in too hard, I conjure you – not because he should be treated as sentimentally sancrosanct at all, but because surely the value of your biography will be the objectivity (and surely he WAS a remarkable man?)' On receiving the completed manuscript in April 1952, he wrote:
Dearest Richard At page 200, reading very carefully, and I think it's really magnificent.... There's no question – and I hate to admit it – that you've served up an unassailable exposure of L.... I've made one or two small cuts.... I think... you might make some more – of various envenomed allusions. My feeling is that it's deadliest when most urbane and dispassionate.
The note of approval is (tactfully) qualified.
Meanwhile, now living with Patsy in Paris and working for UNESCO, Kershaw had been busy on Aldington's behalf. John Holroyd-Reece, formerly director of Albatross (and a yeomanry officer on Barrow's staff in Egypt during the First World War), had offered to assist with the project and had persuaded Collins to offer a £4,500 advance and to agree to a contract with a trust which would hold Aldington's profits for his daughter and thus exempt him from tax (and the demands of the Patmore solicitors). Browning generously released Aldington from his Evans Brothers contract. The transfer to Collins in October 1951 and the well-intentioned, but often bungling, efforts of Holroyd-Reece would cause innumerable problems for both Aldington and Kershaw; but Aldington's tendency to interfere with arrangements which he had entrusted to Kershaw and thus to complicate matters and alienate Collins was an even greater problem. The loyal Kershaw was tested almost to the limit. He would tell Crawford in 1983: 'He was a strange man, Aldington – genuinely an écorché vif. His sensitivity was unbelievably intense and he reacted with a degree of violence which seemed incomprehensible on occasion.' Holroyd-Reece, Kershaw would tell Crawford, was 'an excellent fellow and genuinely anxious to help Richard; but he adored navigating among appalling difficulties to such a degree that when no such difficulties existed he deployed all his considerable intelligence in creating them'.
* * *
On completion of his manuscript in April 1952, Aldington told Kershaw: 'I trust you and the Bird [Holroyd-Reece] are prepared for a really dirty battle with the Lawrence Bureau, for they'll invoke libel and copyright infringement for all they're worth. What I fear is that Collins will rat, and turn round on me.' One cannot libel the dead, but the first draft of the manuscript would have given Lawrence's previous biographers, still very much alive, plenty of scope for litigation on both libel and copyright grounds. Aldington had good reason to fear both the Seven Pillars of Wisdom Trust, administered by Lawrence's brother, Professor A.W. Lawrence, and what he began to term (in a parody of the 'Arab Bureau') the 'Lawrence Bureau', Lawrence's biographers, friends and supporters. These included Graves and Liddell Hart, but also the artist Eric Kennington and his wife, Storrs, Garnett, the historian Sir Lewis Namier, the Conservative politician Lord Winterton, E.M. Forster, Lady Astor and Lord Trenchard.
Because of Holroyd-Reece's well-intentioned attempt to keep the manuscript confidential and therefore to have his secretary type its 456 pages after business hours, William (Billy) Collins did not see it until late July. He was horrified: the illegitimacy issue, the extent to which it was claimed that Lawrence had fabricated exploits and the attack on all his previous biographers were a publisher's nightmare. Aldington was indignant when Collins's editor, F.T. Smith, demanded a virtual rewrite. Collins now consulted lawyers to ensure that the book would not invite litigation. Aldington decided that he too needed 'experts' to evaluate the manuscript and approached the young Oxford academic Alan Bird, with whom he had been in correspondence since early 1949, to act as a reader and 'scholarly adviser', a task which Bird took on enthusiastically, also checking on Lawrence's parentage when Collins's lawyers pronounced that his illegitimacy had not been satisfactorily demonstrated. At Aldington's suggestion, Major Bray was taken on by Collins as 'military expert'.
The to-ing and fro-ing (in the course of which the Daily Mail pulled out of an agreement to serialise the book and the Daily Telegraph turned it down) between Collins, Smith, Ronald Politzer (Collins's Head of Publicity), Mark Bonham Carter (another member of the Collins staff, created a director in 1955), Collins's lawyers, Holroyd-Reece, Kershaw and Aldington to negotiate cuts and emendations to the text lasted over two years. Anxious about censorship, publication date (with no Aldington title having appeared since Portrait of a Genius in 1950), opportunities for serialisation arrangements and foreign rights and a formal contract between Collins and the Aldington Trust, Aldington, despite repeated promises to leave matters in the hands of Kershaw and Holroyd-Reece, constantly interfered and antagonised Collins.
American publication became a particularly fraught issue. Duell, Sloan and Pearce were uneasy about the book and withdrew. There was an ongoing misunderstanding between Aldington and Collins as to whether he or Collins was to obtain an American publisher, the problem aggravated by his hopes for both simultaneous publication and for an American publisher to agree to the uncensored text, neither outcome being desirable for Collins. Knopf, in turn, pulled out of an agreement with Collins, concerned about the criticism of Lowell Thomas in the book.
In the autumn of 1953 Politzer arrived in the south of France to negotiate with Aldington in person. Aldington told Netta (with whom he was now in an occasional and generally amicable correspondence focused on Catha's needs and educational progress) that Catha had 'played hostess to Mr and Mrs Politzer very gracefully'. The personal contact certainly cooled the temperature of his feelings. 'He is a nice fellow but his news is a little depressing,' was his comment to Kershaw. Bonham Carter visited in August 1954 to ask, at this very late stage (and after numerous changes made in compliance with the demands of Collins's lawyers) for 'a less biased version which would still make substantially the same argument'. He returned in September and Aldington finally and reluctantly agreed to the majority of the changes requested. Again, personal contact had paid off; he told Dibben in November that the book was now 'in the hands of Bonham Carter who is a real gentleman, on whose word I rely'.
Along the way, however, Kershaw's relationship with him was severely tested. In May 1954 he wrote to Aldington:
You have repeatedly asked me to take all business worries off your shoulders; I have done my best to do so, asking only that you should not act independently of me with the inevitably consequent embarrassment. I am perfectly willing to withdraw absolutely and finally from the whole business if that be your wish; if you do not wish this, I once again ask that you should not write to anyone but myself or the solicitor.
Aldington humbly replied: 'I have never been anything but intensely grateful for the utterly generous and noble aid you have given me; and if you withdraw it I am indeed alone and desolate.' A month later, however, they had to have the same battle and, at the end of September, Aldington was threatening to withdraw the book from Collins, a move Kershaw had to prevent him from carrying out. Collins's securing of agreements for Spanish-American, German, Italian and US rights (the last of these with the young Chicago firm, Henry Regnery, publishers of Roy Campbell) helped to pacify him.
What Aldington did not know – although he suspected it – was the extent to which the Lawrence Bureau influenced the actions of Collins and caused the constant delays in getting the book onto the presses. In January 1954 – a whole year before the eventual publication of the book – the 'Londoner's Diary' of the Evening Standard announced:
Basil Liddell Hart in the 1930s
The reputation and integrity of Lawrence of Arabia are about to come under the most devastating attack ever launched upon them. A book is due for publication in May or June which the publishers claim will 'erase Lawrence from the pages of history, except as the creator of a myth that was all too readily believed by a credulous world'.
Aldington was horrified: not only did he see all his efforts to maintain secrecy wasted, but he thought the quotation from Collins over-stated and inflammatory. He suspected that Fallas had been the leak, but it was Kershaw, who had alerted a young journalist friend to the story rather prematurely.
The Lawrence Bureau – under the direction of Liddell Hart – went to work immediately to have the book delayed or, if possible, suppressed. If at times Aldington appears to us to have been intransigent, Liddell Hart was his peer – with the added ingredient of excessive arrogance. In the T.E. Lawrence archives at the University of Texas three of the fourteen boxes – 20 folders – are entirely devoted to Liddell Hart's correspondence with other members of the Lawrence Bureau, with Collins and with reviewers over Aldington's book. He would complain to Walter Stirling in June 1955: 'That bloody man has wasted an appalling amount of my working time, and thus cost me a lot of money during the last eighteen months.' We must hope that Stirling pointed out that the devotion of this excessive amount of time and effort had been entirely self-willed.
Liddell Hart was, like Aldington, approaching 60. He had served as a junior officer in 7th Battalion of the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry on the Western Front in the First World War, but had been invalided out in mid-July 1916, thereafter being involved in infantry training and producing training manuals until his retirement from the Army in 1927. He had gone on to become a full-time military historian and theorist, acting as military correspondent to the Daily Telegraph and The Times in the interwar period. In response to his experience of the attrition of the Western Front, he developed the doctrine of the 'indirect approach', the notion that it was better to open a second front or to make a strategic flanking movement than to risk the huge losses incurred in the First World War by attacking the enemy at his strongest point. He was therefore an advocate of strategic bombing and of mechanised warfare – and of Britain's relying on the Royal Navy rather than committing large armies to Continental warfare. Lawrence's involvement in irregular warfare in Arabia had been a gift to Liddell Hart who found 'nowhere... in the records of war such subtly conceived and skilfully gauged distraction as that developed by Lawrence in aid of the Arabs and Allenby'.
This concentration on Lawrence the legendary leader (which included comparing him to Napoleon and Marlborough) ignored such considerations as whether Lawrence was the originator of the idea of provoking and exploiting the Hashemite rebellion, or of the strategy of sabotaging the Turkish rail network, or whether he was even the principal saboteur; Liddell Hart also failed to acknowledge that the factual basis on which he formed his judgements stemmed almost entirely from Lawrence himself. The military historian Brian Bond, who knew Liddell Hart well, believes that: '[h]e idealised Lawrence as the heroic figure he himself might have become: the intellectual and man of action... who could outwit the enemy by his learning, psychology and imagination... and depicted him as a messianic leader sent to save the world from future bloodbaths like the First World War'. Peter Simkins, the other contemporary military historian who knew Liddell Hart well, points out the peripheral nature of Lawrence's activities: '[T]he real damage to the Ottoman cause was done by all-arms Western Front methods (including artillery and air power) under Allenby and Shea... at 3rd Gaza and Megiddo.' Aldington's book would be a challenge to Liddell Hart's integrity, doctrines and reputation.
The Evening Standard diary entry had referred to Aldington's success in gaining evidence that Lawrence's claims to have been offered the post of High Commissioner for Egypt were false. This is where Liddell Hart started work. He persuaded Collins to hold the book up if he could find proof that the 'offer of Egypt' had ever been made to Lawrence. However, despite the pressure he put upon them, he could not persuade Amery, Lloyd or Storrs to retract their original statements. In the case of Storrs, he resorted to blackmail, threatening to publish adverse comments about him that Lawrence had written in the original version of Seven Pillars of Wisdom; Storrs eventually buckled under the pressure, but since Collins only received Liddell Hart's word for this, they did not hold up publication. The most difficult task was to persuade Churchill to withdraw his original statement. Reading the correspondence between the two men, one is struck by Liddell Hart's brazenness and persistence to the point of bullying at a time when the Prime Minister was a sick man. Eventually he extracted a written concession: '[K]nowing Lawrence as I did, I have no reason to believe he was mistaken in his saying there was a question of his having Egypt if Allenby came away.' Lord Hankey, Cabinet Secretary from 1916 to 1938, was similarly mealy-mouthed, his final attempt reading: 'I see no reason why Lawrence should not have been sounded out about the possibility of his succeeding Allenby.' It was not enough. Churchill was badgered further and finally tried: 'I am sure the post of High Commissioner in Egypt was never offered officially to Colonel Lawrence, but I think it very likely that I talked over the possibility of his being offered it.... However, I cannot pretend to remember all these details.' He pleaded with Liddell Hart: 'I cannot however undertake even now to embark upon a prolonged study and research as I have a lot of other things to think about.' It was, in any case, too late to hold up publication any further.
What neither Collins nor Aldington knew was that Kennington and Liddell Hart had gained illicit access to a set of proofs which Collins, as a courtesy to a major bookseller, had lent to John Gideon Wilson, the proprietor of J. & E. Bumpus Ltd. Kennington borrowed them from Wilson over the weekend of 12 and 13 February 1954, while Liddell Hart and his wife entered the Bumpus premises after the shop had closed on the Monday and stayed for five hours. Fortunately for Liddell Hart, on 8 March Collins invited him to go through the page proofs and indicate what corrections and cuts were required. (Aldington was not informed of this development.) Unfortunately for him, he could find few errors of fact and the criticisms he offered were too general to be useful to Collins. This did not prevent him from sending out an 'Analysis' of the proofs to all members of the Lawrence Bureau, stating that Aldington's case against Lawrence was 'built up by half-truths, omissions and twisted evidence', all 'clever enough to be plausible to a casual reader without background knowledge'. 'The rest of the book,' he maintained, 'is merely a catalogue of carping comment, and interjected sneers, which become extremely tedious.' During the coming months he would entertain at his home, Wolverton Park in Buckinghamshire, Politzer, Bonham Carter and also Namier, whom A.W. Lawrence, perhaps wearying of Liddell Hart's methods, had asked to look at the book on behalf of the Seven Pillars of Wisdom Trust. Politzer and Bonham Carter were, we must assume, working in the interests of both Collins and Aldington, but the latter would have been disturbed to know that the 'real gentleman' whom he had welcomed to his home in August and September had on both occasions spent the succeeding weekend as the guest of Liddell Hart.
Nevertheless, in mid-January 1955, only a fortnight away from publication, Bonham Carter would point out to Liddell Hart that neither he nor any of Lawrence's other friends who had seen the proofs – and by now there were several of them – had been able or willing to point out an error in the argument which would have justified Collins in breaking its agreement with Aldington. Billy Collins himself, bombarded with letters from Liddell Hart throughout the 'campaign', had told him in June 1954: 'Whatever the faults of the book, it represents a very decided point of view and the author is entitled to his point of view whether one agrees with it or not.'
What the Lawrence Bureau were slow to realise was that they had shot themselves in the foot. A.W. Lawrence had warned Liddell Hart in March 1954: 'Any statement of yours as to errors in the proofs is likely to be construed into acceptance of the rest of the text.' He was too late. In October, after Bonham Carter's reassurances that the book had been 'cleaned up', Liddell Hart expressed his concern to Kennington that this would have the drawback of making it 'less open to shattering counter-attacks'. The Bureau's activities had also given the book a high public profile. A.W. Lawrence realised early on in the campaign that the majority of the Bureau members were more of a liability than a help. Celandine Kennington proposed the most bizarre strategies devised by the Bureau, suggesting that Aldington's book was 'Communist-inspired' and that they should have him followed by a private detective 'to see what company he keeps'. She admitted that it might be difficult to prove this case, 'but it could certainly be made to smell very strong'. She also enlisted the support of Lady Hardinge of Penshurst, whose son had become a junior partner in Collins, and proposed that this 'very dynamic personality' could 'make mincemeat' of Billy Collins if she met him for lunch. In August she would tell Liddell Hart that there were two or three 'avowed Communists' in Collins's office. (The grounds for this charge seems to have been the fact that Donald Maclean's brother, who had been sacked by the Foreign Office on his brother's defection in May 1951, was now working for Collins.) The Bureau put pressure on Billy Collins, Liddell Hart telling him: 'I am much more concerned in this matter with your reputation than with Lawrence's.' Through Celandine Kennington Lady Hardinge asked Liddell Hart for a letter expressing his view that the Aldington book would 'do harm to Anglo-American relations & to British prestige', a letter that she could show to 'people of influence' in order 'to strengthen her hand'.
Having established that they would not succeed with charges of copyright infringement or libel, the Bureau conceived the idea of a 'Gladstone Defence'. As the Gladstone family had done with the author Peter Wright in 1925, the group would attack Aldington in such a defamatory public letter that he would be forced to sue them for libel, thus giving them the opportunity in court to disprove his allegations against Lawrence. Liddell Hart drummed up a great deal of support among Bureau members for this tactic, which they decided should target Collins too, only to be told by A.W. Lawrence not to go ahead. Unlike the Bureau, he was aware of Lawrence's as yet unpublicised predilection for masochistic beatings, and fearful that Aldington had found this out. The 'Gladstone' case would be too much of a risk. Celandine's next ploy was to travel to Ireland to speak to the surviving Lawrence daughters (T.E.'s half-sisters), but her report (seven typed pages of foolscap) was of little use.
Thwarted in their attempts to suppress the book, the Bureau, and Liddell Hart in particular, now set up their order of battle for the next phase of the campaign: the publication date, 31 January 1955. Church wrote to Aldington shortly before publication:
The foreshadow of your Lawrence has been looming ominously over the literary (and indeed social and political) skies for the past two years, and everyone has been whispering in corners about it, some with glee, others with shocked horror.... [Y]ou will have to seek a refuge in the South Seas as the fanatics come after your blood. What about all the deeply entrenched vested interests in the great legend? How are you going to cope with them? However, you are not lacking in courage and punch and I imagine that you have your jet planes and atom bombs fully lined up.
He was over-optimistic; in the event the onslaught by the Bureau was overwhelming. Two years earlier Aldington had given Kershaw his 'main list of bars' for the reviews: 'Prof. Lawrence, David Garnett, Liddell Hart, Robert Graves, Vyvyan Richards, Storrs, Henry [Williamson], Sitwells, Raymond Mortimer'. His fears were largely realised: Liddell Hart got the Sunday Chronicle, Mortimer, The Sunday Times, Graves, the News Chronicle (and The New Republic in the United States), Storrs, The Listener, Kennington, the conservative journal Truth, and Garnett the New Statesman. Storrs was also interviewed on BBC Television's Panorama by Malcolm Muggeridge on 27 January; Celandine Kennington's comment ('Malcolm Muggeridge looks a nasty piece of work [and] I thought Storrs was fluffy') suggests that the Bureau could not altogether call this a tactical victory. Other hostile reviewers included Harold Nicolson in The Observer, John Rosselli in The Manchester Guardian and A.L. Rowse in the Daily Mail; as Aldington would have expected, the TLS review (by Christopher Montague Woodhouse) was also unfavourable.
The charges made by almost all the reviewers were identical: the tastelessness of revealing Lawrence's illegitimacy and the unrelenting pursuit of what read like a 'personal vendetta' against a heroic figure. Where all else failed them, they asserted, in the words of the Times reviewer, that Aldington had produced 'an uncommonly dull book'. The strong similarities between the reviews were not only due to the fact that the majority had been written by the Bureau and its supporters. Liddell Hart had sent everyone on his extensive mailing list, including journalists on every national and regional newspaper, a seven-page document entitled 'Aldington's "Lawrence": His Charges – and Treatment of the Evidence'. Unfortunately, he had not seen the final proofs of the book and Crawford notes that it is easy to see which reviewers had not actually read the book (which had gone out for review a month before publication) but relied totally on Liddell Hart, as they referred to passages which were not in the final text; these included Graves and Garnett.
The next stage in Liddell Hart's campaign was following up all published reviews with a letter to the authors (enclosing yet again his 'Analysis') which opened: 'I read with interest and appreciation your review of Aldington's book.' He then congratulated those who had attacked Aldington; but those whose reviews had been less vitriolic or who had even given the writer some credit were told (sympathetically) that they had been taken in. Charles Carrington was told in the aftermath of his Time and Tide review: 'While most of the reviews of the book have reacted against Aldington's palpably prejudiced attitude, they have, very naturally, tended to assume that the book is at least careful and honest in its presentation of the events. But closer examination dispels that idea.' (Carrington had commented that 'in his search for mud to throw' Aldington had uncovered 'some damning evidence'.) A copy of the 'Analysis' was enclosed. Lord Vansittart's response when similarly approached after his surprisingly sympathetic review in the Daily Telegraph, was to return the document – and to tell Liddell Hart firmly that 'no offer of the High Commissionership in Egypt was ever made to Lawrence in 1922'.
The correspondence in the Telegraph that followed Vansittart's review included several Bureau letters, but also ones from senior military officers from the Palestine Campaign, like General Barrow and General Lord Burnham, supportive of many of Aldington's charges against Lawrence. When Illustrated, which had featured an interview with Aldington, eventually printed a response from Liddell Hart, it placed alongside it 'anti-Lawrence' letters from two more senior officers, Squadron Commander G.F. Breese and Major General R. Dening. A few other newspapers and journals had either given favourable reviews or had obtained interviews with Aldington; these included the Daily Express, the Evening Standard, the Daily Mirror, the Daily Herald, The Spectator and Punch, while the Daily Mail gave him the opportunity to reply to A.L. Rowse's damning review. However, Liddell Hart stoked the fire with 'T.E. Lawrence, Aldington and the Truth' in John Lehmann's recently founded London Magazine; Lehmann was a family friend of the Liddell Harts and wrote in his editorial: 'Very little is left... of the laboriously constructed case for the prosecution, after it has been riddled with Captain Liddell Hart's well-aimed bursts of machine-gun fire.' Meanwhile, Campbell's young friend, Rob Lyle, with the urging of Campbell, had stepped in to take on the press on Aldington's behalf (and with his assistance). Lehmann sent Lyle's long letter refuting Liddell Hart to the latter, so that he could have a right of reply in the same (June) issue of the magazine. A letter from Aldington himself (unable to hold back) was once more accompanied, in the August issue, by a Liddell Hart rebuttal; Lehmann refused to accept any further correspondence.
The book's appearance in the United States in the autumn produced a smattering of unfavourable reviews but, as Aldington had predicted, publicity was low-key and sales poor as the Collins edition had been available in the US since the beginning of the year. Fortunately for Aldington, the French translation had appeared before the British one. Entitled, to his unease, Lawrence l'Imposteur, it included several passages that had been cut from the Collins edition and attracted considerable interest among the French, never fans of T.E. Lawrence.
* * *
It may have been the thoroughness with which Aldington set out his case, refuting Seven Pillars of Wisdom and the Lowell Thomas, Graves and Liddell Hart accounts of the man and his achievements, that caused the majority of reviewers, frustrated by the unanswerable and fired up by the Bureau, to resort to personal attacks on Aldington himself. It must be admitted, however, that he had laid himself open through his frequent resort to irony; his tone is often contemptuous or mocking. Just a few passages will illustrate this point:
We may claim that Lawrence was the most adventurous and wide-ranging of these demolition raiders, but in frankness must admit that what the others lacked was literary skill to write up their achievements.
[On Lawrence's story of losing the manuscript of Seven Pillars of Wisdom at Reading Station in 1919 and having to rewrite it in two months without the help of all his notes, which he had destroyed] These statistics of re-writing solely from memory... are prodigious, and calculated to raise envious admiration in all professional authors, journalists and even shorthand typists.
There is one achievement which nobody can deny Lawrence, and that was his capacity to convince others that he was a remarkable man. Of course he was, but what was chiefly 'remarkable' was his capacity for self-advertisement.
Lawrence appears to have agreed with Disraeli that everyone likes flattery, but that with some people you should lay it on with a trowel.
His problem was that the case he built up against Lawrence was so strong that his 'enquiry' became a case for the prosecution. Had he been scrupulous in his choice of tone perhaps the book would have been less provocative, but the case itself was what most frustrated the Bureau and the reviewers; it was almost impossible for them to counter. Furthermore, as he worked on the material – and subsequently, when he saw the book savaged – his discoveries confirmed his convictions about British society. Celandine Kennington had been right in imputing a political motive to Aldington; but it was not the one she had hoped to uncover. He told Bird in 1953:
I believe this Lawrence book is much more than a mere biography – it is the showing up and repudiation of a whole phase of our national life with Winston at the head. True, he is a hero, but... [o]ur life as a nation must not be based upon lies and liars, on slick 'policies'.
A passage towards the end of the book reveals, finally, the source of his anger:
I have tried, but perhaps not always with success, to give the evidence in this book fairly and in such a way that it can be instantly verified, though not without some indignation that such a man should have been given the fame and glory of the real heroes of 1914-1918.
It outraged him that: 'the whole trend and assertiveness of Seven Pillars (and extracts in Revolt) are designed to insinuate that the Eastern war was the really important one and that the important contribution to that war came from Lawrence and "the Arabs".'
Graves wrote in The New Republic: 'Instead of a carefully considered portrait of Lawrence I find the self-portrait of a bitter, bed-ridden, leering, asthmatic, elderly hangman of letters....' The work of the Lawrence Bureau and the reviewers in their circle ensured that this was the representation of Aldington put before the public in the years following. Nor did the book enhance his financial security: it had ensured that he had no income for four years, other than the Collins advance (less the repayment of the Evans Brothers advance); and, although the book was a bestseller, with over 30,000 copies sold, Collins withdrew it once they had recouped their investment. Two and a half years later, Four Square Books, by arrangement with Collins, published a paperback edition and sold over 40,000 copies, but the income for Aldington from this edition was small. Furthermore, now that he had become a pariah, publishers were reluctant to be associated with him. As Crawford points out, the three books he published subsequently were all under pre-T.E. Lawrence agreements and with his publisher friends, Browning and Frere. Booksellers, too, had an enormous impact; in response to his unpopularity, they generally ceased to stock his earlier works.
The following tribute by Fred Crawford seems a fitting conclusion to this account of the 'T.E. Lawrence saga':
Aldington's most striking achievement was to challenge the TEL legend despite encountering practically every obstacle that a biographer might face. With a minimum of resources and in virtual isolation, he overcame organised and dedicated opposition from powerful and influential friends of TEL, an uncooperative literary estate, a reluctant publisher, limitations on access to significant material and severe restrictions from libel and copyright laws, all of which hampered his ability to tell the truth as he saw it. That he succeeded was the result of incredible courage, intellectual rigor, and determination even as he coped with crises of confidence, domestic troubles, financial woes and failing health. His passion for truth gave him little choice. Had he foreseen the high personal cost of his TEL book, he would have written it anyway.
### 20. Private and Public Lives Trials of Endurance 1951-1957
The quality of Aldington's daily existence at the Villa Aucassin as writer and single parent is conveyed in his laconic diary entries for early 1951:
16 January 1951 YESTERDAY I WORKED AT T E Lawrence... flat battery... getting signatures on will... supper for Catha – boiled beef, vegetables, new potatoes, boiled & fried, riz au lait with sultanas. Read Byron's 'Childe Harold' instead of the Elizabethans.
17 January 1951 WROTE LETTERS. WORKED at TEL. Walk into Lavandou. Worked from 4.30 on at washing up and housework. Cooked dinner as usual, curry of beef and rice.
He had not kept a diary for four years and, in the light of such entries, it is unsurprising that he soon gave up again. Nevertheless, it came as a terrible shock at the end of the month to receive from the Harmsworth family three months' notice to quit the villa, which had been his – and Catha's – home for three and a half years.
His straitened circumstances and the need to provide schooling for Catha made finding a new home difficult. Possibilities were researched, one of them being to find somewhere near the Gribbles' home in Sainte-Gemme-en-Sancerrois in the Cher, a much cheaper region than the Riviera. Aldington did not really want to leave the coast, telling H.D: 'What I like and want is a place a little back from the sea, with a piece of wild maquis around it, and a little car to be free to shop where one wants.'
He purchased the car, a Simca 5 ('a sort of tub with a motor-bike engine,' he told Williamson) but no affordable accommodation had been found by the time he and Catha took to the road on 26 April, the boot of the little car filled with the books for the Lawrence biography while the remaining 3,000 volumes went into storage. Taking Cohen's advice on the best place for Catha's schooling, he had more or less settled on Montpellier. Meanwhile, however, a holiday was intended. 'I must have a bit of a change and bathe my hands in the calm twilight of Romanesque things,' he told Kershaw. 'We shall go to small rustic hotels and go as cheaply as possible. It will be wonderful if we can have the illusion of freedom again.' He resumed the diary entries for the duration of the tour and they show that he was often too anxious about cost and too depressed by poor weather to achieve that 'illusion of freedom'. He kept a record of all expenses, adding to the entry for 30 April: 'THE COST OF EVERYTHING really frightening.' It cannot have helped that in its entirety the monthlong expedition covered some 1,400 miles. In the 1930s with Patmore and in the 1940s with his family he had covered greater distances, but as a younger, healthier and more hopeful man.
Richard Aldington at Les Rosiers, Montpellier, 1955
Richard and Catherine Aldington in a village near Montpellier in 1954
Nevertheless, there were highlights. On the sandy beach that runs the length of the Etang de Thau they found the best shells they had seen since their Florida days and were exhilarated by the 'brisk cool wind off the Mediterranean & a brilliant sun'. Having driven on to Capestang and Carcassonne, they set off north for Saint-Gemme, perhaps simply to assure themselves that it was not for them; but the Gribbles were away and after a few days in their house, depressed by a 'cold and sunless' Whit weekend, they returned south. Back near the coast their spirits revived and entries record a 'strenuous but very interesting day full of experiences' and a 'good lunch' in Albi, though they travelled back through Béziers to Montpellier in 'pouring rain and cold wind'. Having arranged for Catha's entry to school and visited estate agents, they set off again for day trips from Montpellier to Aigues-Mortes, the Roman ruins at Glanum and Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, soon to become a favourite spot to take visitors. The weather was improving and he told H.D. that they had found the ancient village of Saint-Guilhem and its semi-ruinous basilica 'overwhelming', while at Glanum he thought he had sensed the 'lingering faint aroma of Hellenic days' – one of those subtextual messages he tended to send H.D.
On 28 May, Catha, now nearing her thirteenth birthday, started at her new school while Aldington moved into their new home: three rooms with full board at Les Rosiers, a large, shabby pension about ten minutes' walk from the town centre. His own room opened onto the large neglected garden. He made remarkably light of this downturn in his fortunes, although a parallel downturn in his physical health is indicated in his correspondence, with recurring and increasingly severe bouts of bronchitis, the continuing legacy of the Western Front. Kershaw recalled in 1986:
The pension was as dismal as any other pension, its occupants were a dreary lot, Montpellier itself has never been the most cheerful city in the world. The Villa Aucassin, the bouillabaisse on Port-Cros, Roy's marvellous stories, the golden girls seemed incredibly remote. In the circumstances, our meetings should have been gloomy occasions. They weren't. This was Richard's first experience of real poverty, but his stoicism was admirable... He laughed as readily as ever, he retained all his capacity for enjoyment, he made new friends.... The only times I ever heard him complain were when he was lamenting his inability to offer me a good meal or to help out some acquaintance or other.
In his memoirs Dutton recalled visiting the 'poky pension' when he and Ninette returned to Europe in 1954, by which time Aldington had been living at Les Rosiers for three years:
When we arrived he was sitting under the pines in the garden of the pension, reading Provençal poetry. He was quiet, almost reserved. He knew all too well that last time we had met he had been the genial host of the Villa Aucassin. But he soon cheered up and when Catha came back from the University [sic], gay, grownup and very French, he began to laugh.
The Duttons moved on to Florence, taking a villa for four months, and inviting Aldington and Catha to visit over Christmas and the New Year. The opportunity to return to Florence after seventeen years – and to show it to Catha – was a joy to Aldington, although he told Williamson afterwards: 'I had twinges of melancholy – to be in Florence, and no Lorenzo, no Frieda, no Norman, no Pino, no Reggie, even no Frere and no Brigit – alas.' The inclusion of Patmore in the list is telling.
For Dutton, the pleasure of their company was spoiled by the fact that his mother, also visiting, did not take to Aldington and had constant disagreements with him, culminating in a ferocious argument about Kershaw and Deasey, whom she had always thought to be bad influences on her son. On returning to Montpellier, Aldington wrote to Deasey:
For dear old Geoff's sake, I put up with Emily who struck me as exactly like the English female of the moneyed class – ignorant, snobbish, vain, purse-proud, domineering, fatuous and disagreeable. I'm sorry to say that about Geoff's Ma, but you know I am right. I nearly had a sanguinary row with her in Firenze over you and Alister – I had to remind her you are my friends.
Since the Duttons stayed in Montpellier on their way from Florence to Paris and London the following month (accompanied by Dutton's mother) and took Aldington and Catha out for some enjoyable meals, the events do not seem to have damaged their relationship.
Deasey was a regular visitor to Montpellier until his return to Australia, and he and Aldington, with their shared love of history, enjoyed exploring Provence and Languedoc together whenever Aldington could drag himself away from writing. Kershaw was more limited by work constraints but visited when he could. Although the T.E. Lawrence saga created tensions between them in this period, their relationship weathered them, founded as it was on strong affection. Kershaw himself went through a very difficult time over the next few years. His health and financial circumstances were in poor shape and all of this affected what had always been a volatile marriage. His employment with UNESCO was intermittent and he was reliant on freelance journalism and translation. The baby girl to whom Patsy gave birth on Christmas Day 1954 turned out to be frail – and not his child. The couple would separate in 1956, Patsy marrying her child's father and Kershaw remarrying – an English girl – the following year. A private man, like Aldington, Kershaw only revealed his domestic circumstances reluctantly, even to his closest friends.
The most important friend Aldington made in Montpellier (in May 1954) was Frédéric-Jacques Temple, a young poet, critic, translator and broadcaster, who had fought in the Italian Campaign in 1943-45. (Temple had, coincidentally, been born in the very room in Les Rosiers which Aldington now occupied.) He became an almost daily visitor, sharing, in particular, Aldington's admiration for D.H. Lawrence; he had already translated D.H. Lawrence: An Indiscretion into French. He would write in 1965: 'Richard Aldington lived in Montpellier in almost total solitude. This man who loved France so deeply, who spoke our language faultlessly, who delighted in our finest wines, lived here like an outcast, or, rather, like a retired Indian Army colonel in exile.' 'I was,' observed Temple, 'a helpless witness of his difficulties, which he bore with a truly lordly stoicism and dignity.' Temple's friendship became vital to Aldington and it is a measure of his trust in him that he agreed to Temple conducting a series of fourteen monthly radio interviews with him on Radio Montpellier between October 1955 and December 1956.
Frédéric-Jacques Temple and Lawrence Durrell
* * *
By April 1952 Aldington had completed his T.E. Lawrence manuscript. On 7 February that year Douglas had died on Capri and on 3 June Aldington told Dibben: 'I have begun a shortish memorial of Norman – to mingle personal reminiscences with informal notes on Norman's books.' He told Kershaw that the book would be 'a panegyric of his way of living', but, once again, what emerged was very different from the intention. Frere agreed to publish the book, which eventually became a memoir of Douglas, Orioli and Prentice, the title, Pinorman, being a portmanteau word for the former two figures, used, Aldington claimed (although others subsequently disputed), amongst their personal circle of friends. Gaining permission for quotations proved problematic: MacPherson, Bryher's former husband (and former lover of H.D.) was Douglas's literary executor and Aldington knew that he would be reluctant to assist with a book that denigrated its subject. Perhaps oblivious to the ambivalent attitude of Aldington towards Douglas, of whom she and Bryher had been close friends and admirers, H.D. mediated between MacPherson and Aldington, who thus gained all the permissions he needed.
While the book's circulation was much smaller than that of the T.E. Lawrence nine months later (around 5,000), it was greeted with a storm of disapproval on its publication in April 1954. (That it preceded the Lawrence was the result of the constant publication delays of the latter.) In some ways, it is a very different book, only 50,000 words, informal and conversational in style and consisting chiefly of personal recollections and anecdotes of three men he knew well. In both cases, however, Aldington rejected the term 'biography', calling Pinorman 'nothing but notes and personal recollections of [Douglas] and two of his friends' and Lawrence of Arabia the work of 'an under-labourer clearing the ground a little and removing some of the rubbish that lies in the way of knowledge'. Furthermore, in his profile of Douglas, he was once again mounting an attack on an admired figure, if one unfamiliar to the general public. Douglas's writing was criticised but, more provocatively, Aldington was scathing – as he had not been in Life for Life's Sake – about Douglas's personality and conduct ('[I]n all the time I was with him I seldom saw him put himself out in the least or do anything much for another person') and, in particular, about his paedophilia.
The book contains affectionate portraits of both Orioli and Prentice, but it was the personal animus against Douglas which attracted attention – and outrage. Some of the animosity stemmed from Aldington's loyalty towards D.H. Lawrence and his anger at the way Douglas had attacked Lawrence – unjustly – in the 'Magnus affair'. He had dealt with this in Portrait of a Genius, But... and in Life for Life's Sake but he returned to it again, asserting that: 'That Magnus pamphlet was by far the cleverest and most damaging attack made on Lawrence and did him more damage than he realised.' He told Lyle that: 'DHL was the real reason for Pinorman, though of course love for Charles and Pino came in too.' As for Douglas's paedophilia, this was not – unlike T.E. Lawrence's illegitimacy – a secret, and a contemporary readership may be surprised to find Aldington attacked for condemning Douglas's behaviour. Indeed, one of the most vicious reviews of the book was written by Constantine Fitzgibbon who, during Douglas's lifetime, had abandoned an attempted biography 'partly because', according to Anne Chisholm (Cunard's biographer), 'of the awkwardness involved in writing truthfully about Douglas's relations with preadolescent boys'.
The chief antagonist was Cunard, whose own memoirs of Douglas, Grand Man, appeared that August. Not content with her savage review of Pinorman in Time and Tide, she wrote to Heinemann: 'It is astonishing that a reputable publishing firm such as yourselves should be able to bring out the gross travesty of Norman Douglas and Orioli by Richard Aldington entitled Pinorman.' She threatened: 'All the friends of Norman Douglas will, I am sure, be as ready as I am to cooperate in whatever form of collective protest may be judged the most suitable.' Frere would appear in court later that year on charges under the Obscene Publications Act (in relation to the firm's publication of Walter Baxter's controversial novel, The Image and the Search) but he was on safe ground here. The friends of Douglas, who included Fitzgibbon, Graham Greene, Compton Mackenzie, the cartoonist David Low and William King, as well as those friends from Florence, wartime London and Capri whose tributes to Douglas were included in Cunard's book (her cousin Victor Cunard, MacPherson, Acton, Charles Duff and Arthur Johnson) did not have quite the influence of the Lawrence Bureau, and one or two of them had personal reasons for being alarmed by Aldington's condemnation of Douglas's sexual preferences. (In this regard, it is interesting to note that Bryher, Douglas's chief patron, did not contribute to Cunard's book.) Greene (presumably familiar with the concept of the 'Gladstone Defence') sent Aldington a copy of a defamatory review he intended to publish in the London Magazine, daring him to sue for libel. Aldington ignored the letter and the London Magazine found the review too risky to publish.
Aldington's own supporters included, somewhat surprisingly, Somerset Maugham, who arrived in Montpellier to take him out for a congratulatory dinner that September but did not commit himself to print. Frieda Lawrence, however, sent a letter to Time and Tide rebutting Cunard. She wrote to Aldington: 'Of course I swallowed your "Pinorman" like a raw oyster. You made it all alive again. You give this wonderful bit of living, unique, never to be repeated,' and in a subsequent letter she told him of an occasion when Douglas had asked her if she would like to 'take over' from him a fourteen-year-old boy, because he 'preferred them younger'. More moderately, Warman wrote: 'Your criticisms of Douglas as a man (which ring absolutely true to me) are entirely balanced by your treatment of him as a writer; of Orioli and Prentice as people; and of yourself as a mere observer in the group – which you certainly cannot have been.' Campbell told Aldington that it was the 'finest portrait of a DOM' he had read for a long time, adding: 'I chuckled throughout. It reminded me of reading Tartuffe for the first time. It will infuriate the critics.... At the same time it's a very noble and necessary vindication of DHL.' Since none of them, Frieda apart, could get letters printed in response to the hostile reviews, Campbell came up with the idea of a pamphlet to challenge the Douglas supporters; Lyle agreed to edit it and publish it at his own expense. Aldington was touched, telling him: 'I never had unselfish friends before, except Frere and Alister.' Unfortunately for them all, when the Forty-Five Press, who had agreed to publish the pamphlet (entitled What Next? Or, Black Douglas & White Ladyship, Being an Herpetology of Literary London), sent it to print, the printers refused to proceed, on the grounds that it was libellous.
Catherine Aldington as a young woman
* * *
Aldington would publish only three more books. First came Introduction to Mistral, published by Heinemann in October 1956. Frédéric Mistral was a poet and lexicographer of the Occitan language of Provence, who had been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1904, 'in recognition of the fresh originality and true inspiration of his poetic production, which faithfully reflects the natural scenery and native spirit of his people, and, in addition, his significant work as a Provençal philologist'. Aldington had visited Mistral's house in Maillane, near Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, in April 1953 and told Bacon (himself an admirer of Mistral) that he had never been so pleased 'with the aspect and "atmosphere" of a great writer's home'. As for the Museon Arlaten, the 'musée de vie' founded by Mistral in Arles with his Nobel Prize money, Aldington told Read that he loved it so much he had visited it 22 times.
It is easy to see why he admired Mistral. He would tell H.D: 'It is the curse of "modern poetry" that it cuts itself off from the people in sterile intellectual pride. I love Mistral and my dear Roy because they fought against that.' A list of some of the headings in the index entry for 'Mistral, Frédéric' in Aldington's book gives us further clues:
his 'harmonious' life and character
his serenity
his moderation and simplicity
his tact
his sympathy
his bonhomie
his learning
his relations with his country folk
'representative man of Provence'
One aspect of Mistral's thinking, in particular, chimed completely with Aldington's: 'There was a genuine "poetry" of the people which Mistral was not alone in thinking brought them more genuine happiness than the commercialised substitutes of the town.... [H]is life-task... was to be a defence of living values against mechanical, bureaucratic, statistical values.'
Dibben found Aldington the obscure books he needed, but there were frustrations: Mistral's wife, who died in 1943, had placed an embargo on his correspondence, while the background literature was 'appalling both in bulk and detail', a challenge to his knowledge and language skills. Nevertheless, he found the task 'such a refreshment after the fetid Colonel!' Once it was finished he had agonising doubts, about both his expertise and the book's saleability. The latter concern proved justified: he would tell Warman the following year that only 625 copies had been sold. It seems likely that Frere had taken the book on as a favour to his old friend. One small piece of good fortune was that Pryce-Jones at the TLS asked Campbell, as an authority on Provence, to review the book. Frere told Aldington: 'He had it on his conscience obviously what Hayley MADE him print about Pinorman and Lawrence.' Campbell's review was, predictably, enthusiastic: 'Mr Aldington makes the whole Camargue come to life, with its auroras of phoenicopters, wild fighting bulls, and wild (but alas! vanishing) white horses.... [His] scholarly but unobtrusive erudition was required to do justice to that of Mistral.' Another favourable review – in the New Statesman – was also by a (new) friend, Lawrence Durrell. Aldington's own view was explained in a letter to Read: 'The book is not as good as the TLS says, but it struggles to express (a) my love of the earth, (b) my hatred of machines and machine-worship, (c) my feeling that there should be a "reciprocity" between the poet and the people, the real people.' The book is dedicated to Campbell ('who made me ashamed of my ignorance of Provence') and also to Frank Flint ('who taught me to love France'). It is touching to see Flint and his infectious enthusiasm for French poetry remembered, and saddening to be aware that all Aldington's efforts to re-establish contact with him in recent years had failed. In 1960, after Pound, too, had expressed a desire to communicate with Flint, Aldington told H.D.: 'Pity about Frankie, but what can be done? I tried very hard to get in touch with him, directly and through friends, and he let all advances go without response. I even dedicated one of my best books to him, with no answer.'
* * *
Written almost in tandem with the Mistral book and published in February 1957 was a commission from Frere entitled Frauds. Again, Aldington was worried that it would fail to find an audience. He told Bird: 'The educated will know it all beforehand, and the others will not have the least idea what it is about.' 'How does this gap exist?' he asked. His 'frauds', which he enjoyed researching, included two eighteenth-century figures, George Psalmanazar (a Frenchman who claimed to be the first native of Formosa to reach Europe) and James Graham (a fraudulent 'doctor' who devised many popular remedies), two from the nineteenth century, Thomas Griffiths Wainewright (forger and probable serial killer) and Arthur Orton (the son of a London butcher who claimed to be the lost heir to the Tichborne fortune), and a twentieth-century figure, Maundy Gregory (who acted as a broker in the sale of honours from 1910 for a period of some 20 years). The final chapter is devoted to four literary forgeries of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, those of Thomas Chatterton, James Macpherson, William Ireland and Thomas Wise. Aldington described the book to Bird as 'journalism in book form' and, while it displays exhaustive research and those skills in interrogating myths and hearsay that had landed him in such difficulties in the case of T.E. Lawrence, it reads like the work of a tired man. His fears of its not finding its audience proved well founded.
* * *
The last book, commissioned by Evans Brothers, was a biography of Robert Louis Stevenson. Aldington was initially unenthusiastic. He told Kershaw in March 1956 that the task was 'a frightful chore' and a month later that '[t]here are heaps of books about him and no need whatsoever for another one'. However, as his research progressed and as he read Stevenson's writings more closely, he warmed to the man and came to appreciate the work. He told Dibben: 'RLS was almost the same age as DHL when he died. What I love in both is the courage and sense of enjoyment, the refusal to be beaten.' What is only implied here is the 'gnawing demon at [their] lungs' from which both men suffered and which made them the restless 'world's wanderers' that they became. There were other demons too, against which Aldington was used to railing: 'the dour religion forced upon his frightened childhood and... the smug, purse-proud, conventional, repressive society that religion had created'.
Like Aldington himself, 'Stevenson's vocation for letters was too strong for him to concentrate on other work.' He was an example of 'the writer, painter or "artist" who shrugged off the advantages and rewards as well as the responsibilities and duties of money-making man in exchange for freedom and art'. 'Until 1940 and socialism put an end to it,' Aldington asks, 'how many British artists of all sorts tried to follow his precepts?' One of the consequences of such a lifestyle plagued both men: '[H]e was from time to time worried about money until the day he died.' Yet – and again we recognise the Aldington of earlier days – 'Stevenson's open-handed generosity with money was only equalled by the delicacy with which he gave or "lent" it.' Aldington also admired Stevenson's qualities as a traveller: 'He was very seldom in a hurry, he prepared himself beforehand by learning something of the language and history of the country visited, he had an eye for the unexpected and a knack of getting into touch with persons he met.' We might be reminded here of both D.H. Lawrence and Aldington himself. Another revealing observation – made in relation to The Amateur Immigrant, Stevenson's account of his voyage to America in 1879 – is that Stevenson 'has no particular axe to grind though, as a Tory, he likes people and is suspicious of humanity'. Stevenson's later The Day After Tomorrow also won Aldington's approval for its 'statesman-like ability to foresee the inevitable results of Socialist legislation', namely 'the golden age of officials' who will 'meddle' in all the concerns of the people.
Aldington quotes from Stevenson's essay on Burns:
To write with authority about another man we must have fellowfeeling and some common ground of experience with our subject. We may praise or blame according as we find him related to us by the best or worst in ourselves; but it is only in virtue of some relationship that we can be his judges, even to condemn. Feelings which we share and understand enter for us into the tissue of the man's character; those to which we are strangers in our own experience we are inclined to regard as blots, exceptions, inconsistencies, and excursions of the diabolic; we conceive them with repugnance, explain them with difficulty, and raise our hands to heaven in wonder when we find them in conjunction with talents that we respect or virtues that we admire.
This passage makes an excellent starting point for the criticism of Aldington's own biographical incursions – into the lives of Voltaire, Wellington, the two Lawrences, Douglas and Stevenson. His study of the latter represents two fine achievements. The first is his refusal of irony and caricature. He offers a measured, tolerant and sympathetic assessment of the characters in Stevenson's life so often given short shrift: his father and his wife. He gives due regard to the 'genuine affection existing between father and son underneath all the quarrels and differences'. In the case of Fanny Stevenson and the question of how far she was qualified to bring out the very best of Stevenson's literary gifts, he acknowledges that her conception of literary merit was probably what would achieve popular success, but sees this as no bad thing: 'She won, and on the whole she was right.' As for Stevenson himself: 'We have to admit that [he] was rather egocentric, that he did frequently dramatise himself, and that he did consciously seek experiences in order to use them in his writings.' 'However,' Aldington adds, 'I should say that is characteristic of many writers, particularly of the "subjective-romantic" kind. What is far less characteristic is Stevenson's compassion and generosity, his pity for helpless suffering and instant impulse to give help.'
The other achievement of the book is its comprehensive and sensitive evaluation of the full range of Stevenson's writing. Speaking of The Amateur Immigrant, Aldington again refers to D.H. Lawrence, remarking that Stevenson's capacity to present experiences and feelings so that the reader 'shares and relives' them makes him 'the predecessor or "herald" of the later writer'. While appreciating fully the essays and travel writing, Aldington also treats the works of popular fiction with respect. Exercised so much at this time by the issue of audience and the gap between popular and highbrow taste, he recognised – as he had always done in the case of Dickens – Stevenson's ability to take and hold the reader's attention. He also understood his place in the literary tradition, noting, for example, the influence of Scott and Defoe on Kidnapped but suggesting that Stevenson, 'assimilating both ancestors, made the book wholly his'. In turn, he points to Stevenson's influence on later writers, citing the debt of Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray and Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
John Carswell, writing in the TLS, recognised the presence of these qualities in Aldington's book:
The familiar astringency is still there, and so is Mr Aldington on the sidelines as commentator, offering opinions on the world and its foibles in season and out of it. But the astringency reinforces rather than distorts, and the occasional obtrusiveness of the asides is redeemed by much acute, unhackneyed criticism.
Carswell noted that Aldington had clearly come to like Stevenson and 'to extend sympathetic understanding to the odd and not in all respects attractive group in which he stands'. The Times reviewer also noted the 'basic admiration, critical detachment, measured sympathy, and an author's wise understanding of a writer's problems' that made the book 'an absorbing narrative'. Even Bonamy Dobrée, writing in the Daily Telegraph, praised Aldington's 'sensitive perception', his scrupulous fairness to all the persons involved and the way in which he had brought out Stevenson's 'indomitable spirit'. Such reviews from the literary establishment might have shaken Aldington's view that after Pinorman and Lawrence of Arabia he could not expect a fair trial. However, in The Sunday Times, John Raymond displayed all the hostility towards him that he had come to expect, remarking that:
A pagan expatriate, Lawrencian devotee and connoisseur of Provence and the blushing south, who keeps his sunny side for Mistral and a generous allowance of cantankerousness for his fellow countrymen (especially if they happen to be Eminent Georgians)... is the last man in the world to relish the chill, smoky wind-and-wynd background from which Stevenson sprung.
He found 'impatience, a dearth of light and shade, the failure to provide us with any genuine assessment of Stevenson's art'.
***
In January 1957 Aldington's cause was taken up by a critic at the heart of the literary establishment but a long-time admirer of his work: the editor of The Times, William Haley. Writing under the pen-name of Oliver Edwards, Haley published in the paper an extensive article on Aldington's work, expressing his sadness at the bitterness and anger aroused by Pinorman and Lawrence of Arabia and confirming Aldington's own view that the consequence of these events had been a general desire to 'write [him] off' as someone 'whose opinions did not matter [and] whose work had never amounted to much anyway'. On the contrary, Haley felt that Portrait of a Genius, But... was 'first class' and Death of a Hero an important work. Haley went on to ask how it was possible to dismiss the writer of novels like All Men Are Enemies and Women Must Work and poems like A Fool i' the Forest and A Dream in the Luxembourg as well as 'one of the best single volumes on Voltaire', criticism like French Studies and Reviews and translations like Alcestis and Fifty Romance Poems. He argued that A Fool i' the Forest was a turning point in Aldington's development as a writer, proposing, as it did, the notion, further articulated in Artifex and Life Quest, that 'an art impulse exists in all men, has been recognised in preceding generations, but denied in our industrial civilisation with grave results'. Aldington seemed in Life Quest, continued Haley, to be 'reaching towards a new world, or at least an old world reborn'. However, he argued, 'something happened': from Very Heaven onwards Aldington had produced no major creative work. Nevertheless, Hayley concluded, his best work had a healthier, if less striking and dynamic, message than D.H. Lawrence's and gave him 'a firm place among the writers of the interwar years'. Death of a Hero, All Men Are Enemies, A Dream in the Luxembourg, Life Quest, Voltaire and Portrait of a Genius, But... were, in Hayley's judgement, works that would 'stand'.
Aldington was delighted at this defence of his work, but it did not change the views of the literary establishment, as some of his obituaries would later show. Had he followed Campbell's advice in 1951 that he should go to London, and the urgings of many of his friends that he appear on British television and radio, it might have made a difference; but he was too tired, unwell and disillusioned. The T.E. Lawrence affair had wounded him deeply. More importantly, he had no further creative work to offer.
Sir William Haley in 1967
He was ready, nevertheless, to applaud the successes of his friends. In 1954 Fallas's novel, St Mary's Village: Through the Eyes of an Unknown Soldier Who Lived On, was awarded the Prime Minister's Literary Prize and Aldington was delighted, telling his brother that the book was 'a vividly accurate report on that war'. In January 1956 he responded warmly to Williamson's A Fox Under My Cloak. The book brought back his own experiences in the Loos sector in 1917 and 1918, but his criticisms were candid:
I thought Madison on the whole an engaging character... very self-centred, but then so are a great many people. I think what he lacks is moral indignation plus some philosophy of life to give meaning to his experiences; but doubtless that will come later. But all said and done, it is a great achievement.
He told Williamson that How Dear Is Life and A Fox Under My Cloak 'together make about the best English war novel there is'.
A writer whose success that year he was more reluctant to celebrate was Richard Church, whose autobiography, Over the Bridge, won the Sunday Times Award. 'Do you see,' he asked Kershaw:
that Frere's Great Author now, after Willie [Maugham] and Graham Greene, is our old friend Dick Church, whose charming autobiography 'Over the Bridge' received the Sunday Times prize of 1,000 quid and is now in its fourth printing. What next? This is the reward of lick-spittle time-serving and of what Banabhard [Taylor] called 'his insincere and unnecessary opinions'.
1956 brought events in the wider world to his attention, the Suez Crisis confirming his contempt for the governing classes. At first, he thought that Britain would do nothing about the Egyptian nationalisation of the canal, writing to his brother:
Their Master's Voice in Washington (D.C.) won't allow any scrapping with an election coming on. The French are tied up in Algeria. Which means Mr E would have had to fight alone, and the more cowardly the Brits become the more they praise their heroes – and do nothing. He daren't fight and he'd get licked if he did.
Once the events of November unfolded, however, his contempt was even greater: 'The heroic grandeur of Sir A E in attacking a little man is only exceeded by the superb dignity and courage with which he runs away from two big men.' His scorn for Eden's government did not make him more sympathetic to the Socialist cause:
There might be some slight consolation if this kick in the backside had dispelled some of the illusions which infest GB. But seemingly the Tories go on believing in their great and powerful empire, beloved by all, and the Socialists in a vast 'wealth' which can be indefinitely pillaged without weakening the economy of the whole concern. It is hard to say which is the sillier, the party which go ass-ing about with stars and garters and Lillibet and busbies and Oxford and Ascot, or the other lot always whinging about the downtrodden proletariat – at least 12 pounds a week and all found – and demanding another three or four hundred millions for social services and wages, for the laziest pack of bastards in Europe.
His philosophy was still 'a plague on both their houses'.
He did, however, have a prescription for the future:
The enemy of GB is not the USA or the USSR but GB itself and its silly conceit. The policy of the last fifteen years has been that of keeping up with the Joneses and keeping up appearances and keeping the old ostrich nut in the ancient sand. England is not a great power any longer, and in an atomic war is a death trap. It has lost its empire and is losing its trade and it can only survive by facing realities – drastic reduction of military and of 'social service' expenditure, abandonment of ridiculous attempts to rival USA and USSR which merely bring humiliation and derision, adherence to the EU, development of Africa not by pukka sahibs and polo players but by people who understand business, and above all a policy of peace. This constant scattering of ultimatums must stop. Let us get out of the garden of Eden and cultivate our own little patch. There is a decent future for England if it will, as far as possible, 'neutralise' (a pretence of fighting for the Yanks must be kept up), cut military bases and expenditure overseas, cut subsidies such as the 12 million a year to Jordan bequeathed by the Colonel and stop swarming itself into indigence with too many children.
There were worries closer to home. Catha's success at school was erratic and Aldington was conscious that she would have to be able to earn her own living. He lamented to Netta in 1955: 'As a matter of fact, she is quite good at schoolwork, but she is lazy.... Her main interests are her friends, hopes of a Vesta, plenty of clothes, holiday and pocket money.' In July 1956, after Catha had failed her baccalauréat, she went – reluctantly – to stay with her mother in London for the summer vacation. Aldington told Kershaw: 'What a cow is Netta. Her idea of entertaining that most intelligent girl is to take her to see the Guards on parade, to number 10 and the Cenotaph, and to patriotic films. The rest of the time she is dragged round pubs.' The chief cause of anxiety, however, was money. He told Kershaw in November 1956: 'We are in such a desperate state financially that I simply don't know what to do.' Kershaw's response was to send him 2,000 francs. Others made generous contributions: Warman – and also Randall, who came to Montpellier in the summer of 1956 for a visit both men enjoyed immensely. These were friends who remembered his kindness towards them in earlier years and were happy to repay it.
His own generosity towards others continued despite his financial difficulties. The first recipient was the American novelist Edward Dahlberg, whom Aldington had met when in the United States but who was now living in Denmark. Read wrote to tell Aldington that Dahlberg was writing him long letters 'full of the most magnificent invective but also bemoaning his fate' and pressing him to accept his latest work, The Sorrows of Priapus, for Routledge: 'I am almost at the end of my patience, and yet if I abandon him, I have a fear it would be the end.' Read confessed to having become involved in co-writing with Dahlberg a study of several major contemporary writers, a project which was proving stressful. Aldington offered: 'I'll try to take him off you for a bit.'
Edward Dahlberg
He came to regret the offer. He warned Dahlberg, who felt himself neglected by the literary world and wanted Aldington to promote his writing: 'I am old, tired, ill, poor and fighting for my existence against the combination of practically all the periodical writers of England and America. I will do anything I can for you, but it is I who need comfort and succour.' Dahlberg arrived in Montpellier, shortly followed by his wife. 'From the moment he arrived here,' Aldington told Read, 'his purpose was plain – i.e. to engage me to praise his works in print on a reciprocal basis.' Aldington thought that many of Dahlberg's comments in the co-written book were libellous and that Dahlberg's own book was 'as disconnected as the Book of Proverbs, from which indeed it may derive.' Forced to be truthful when asked directly for his opinion, Aldington deeply offended the writer. 'Unluckily,' he told Read, 'E.D. has so much the neurasthenic temperament of the neglected and unpublished writer that he lost his temper, abused me, was furious when I retaliated and went off in a huff.' Looking back on the episode the following March he called it une jolie bouillotte de poissons, telling Read that he had done his best but that Dahlberg had 'stayed too long and tried to exact too much'.
The other, even more eccentric, writer whom Aldington tried to help was Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk, a New Zealander of Polish extraction, who had lived in England since 1926. Aldington had first met Potocki at Lowenfels' apartment in Paris in 1928, since when Potocki had attracted attention in the interwar years, serving a prison term for obscenity in 1932 for a collection of poems, and expressing support for Fascism through his editorship of a journal entitled the Right Review. In 1949 he moved to a tumbledown cottage in Draguignan, inland from Saint-Tropez. He wrote to Aldington in 1954, seeking advice about publication of his work, and their correspondence continued until the end of Aldington's life. Their letters were long and friendly, and Aldington derived much humour from Potocki's views and writings. The Dahlberg fiasco had clearly taught him to be tactful with struggling writers – although Potocki was a much more engaging (and thick-skinned) character – but he advised him in relation to My Private War Against England: 'I am afraid the common publisher will be scared of this text.' Mentioning this book in a letter to Warman, Aldington remarked: 'I don't recollect to have read a modern book so completely aloof from base reality.'
Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk in a police photograph taken on his arrest in 1932
Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk in Wellington, New Zealand in1984
Early in 1956, the impoverished Potocki conceived the idea of starting his own printing press, although Aldington pointed out that books published and printed outside the UK could not then be imported into Britain. When, in 1959, Potocki decided to go ahead with the idea, Aldington did all he could to raise funds – mostly from Kershaw and Warman, but including money of his own – to enable the Melissa Press to be started. Over the years the two men met on several occasions, to their mutual enjoyment; Aldington would tell Potocki in 1958: 'The energy and zest you put into life are a lesson to us all, especially to me at this time when I am moping with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana skin.'
A friend to whom he was able to return the kindness of over 30 years was Gribble, whom Kershaw brought down from Paris to spend a fortnight at Les Rosiers in January 1953. In his early 70s by now, Gribble had begun to develop dementia and his wife and son had little patience with him, much to Kershaw's fury. Aldington told him after the visit: 'The old George chirruped over his cups and was mightily entertaining. On the other hand I must avow to you in secret that some of his discourses somewhat baffle me,' and he told H.D. that Gribble 'is very active, walks a lot, plays the guitar, drinks his wine, but his memory grows confused'.
Gribble died in September 1956. Frieda Lawrence had died that August. Writing to Edward Nehls, the D.H. Lawrence scholar with whom he had been corresponding since 1952, Aldington said that part of his youth and reason for living had died with her: 'While she lived something of Lawrence lived on.' 'If my life has any value,' he continued, 'it is that since 1926 – and to some extent since 1914 – I felt his superiority and always acknowledged it.' Other deaths followed, of figures less close but still associated with a time when his social and literary lives had been active and fulfilling: Arlen in June, and Lewis in March the following year. Aldington had shared with H.D. Lewis's moving 1951 essay on his blindness, 'The Sea Mists of Winter', and now he told Read how highly he thought of Lewis's work. Read was less charitable, calling Lewis 'a fierce, ugly, unhappy man... [without] one drop of the milk of human kindness', but Aldington was more prepared to look for reasons, suggesting that Lewis (like Pound) suffered from paranoia, and seeing in his production of so many books that 'begin with magnificent energy, and gradually peter out' the effect of 'poverty and the need to produce'. This was a subject of which he had more understanding than Read, who in one letter complained of the cost of private schooling for his four children.
The death that hit him hardest – all the more so for its total unexpectedness – was Campbell's. He and his family had moved to a farm near Sintra in Portugal in May 1952 and had initially invited Aldington and Catha to live with them there. The problems of Catha's schooling and the births of children to both Campbell daughters made the plan impracticable, and by 1956 the Campbells had been forced for financial reasons to give up the farm and move to a small cottage. Campbell had been in poor health for some time, suffering principally from diabetes. However, he and Mary drove to Seville in 1957 to attend the Holy Week festivities. On 23 April they were returning home – and only an hour's drive away – when a front tyre burst, the car swerved into a tree and both of them were severely injured. Campbell's neck was broken and he died within minutes. Aldington was heart-broken. He wrote to Williamson: 'Dear, dear Henry, Roy's death has almost knocked us out. I admired, revered, loved him and believed he might a little mourn me, not I shed tears for him.... He was a great man and a great poet.' He expressed similar sentiments to H.D.
One of those in whom he confided his sense of loss was a new and important friend – who would come to replace Campbell in the years ahead. Lawrence Durrell had contacted Aldington early in 1957 when he and his French partner, Claude Vincendon, had decided to move to the south of France. They had settled at Sommières, halfway between Montpellier and Nîmes, and the occasional meetings between them and Aldington and Catha were supplemented by regular correspondence. Durrell was about to achieve literary success with the publication of Justine, the first volume in his Alexandria Quartet, and was sympathetic to Aldington's literary struggles. They shared right-wing and Anglophobic views, although Durrell could not be persuaded to offer support for Potocki, telling Aldington: 'I didn't approve of his affiliation with Mosley and adoration of Adolf.'
Aldington's chief correspondent throughout these years was H.D., to whom by 1957 he was writing at least once a week. In 1953 she consulted him about Madrigal, her roman à clef about her experiences during the First World War, which she called her 'beautiful, tragic and basically anti-war story' and which would eventually be entitled Bid Me to Live. If he was troubled by her revelations of those dramatic and tragic years of their marriage, he did not reveal this to anyone, least of all H.D. 'It is awfully good, Dooley, really good, authentic and concentrated, better than the equivalent chapters in Aaron's Rod,' he told her, and he tried – unsuccessfully – to interest Frere in publishing the book: 'She has written a real novel at last... about real people, and has a beginning, a middle and an end.' What struck him forcefully, however, was the narrow domestic focus of this novel on a time when he was fighting on the Western Front, something he only hinted at to H.D, telling her that he had thought of sending her Roads to Glory 'for the curiosity of seeing how simultaneously in Time there may be such utter contrast of experience in Space'. When he failed to find her a publisher, Bryher wrote to him to stress how important it was for H.D. that the book be published. They corresponded for several months on the issue, until he had to admit that he could do no more. Although he had failed in this matter, he had given Bryher cause to trust his devotion to H.D., in one letter asking Bryher to break the news of Walter Rummel's death to H.D. as he feared it would distress her.
The most ubiquitous topic in his letters to H.D. is health. Although he wrote of his own problems, he became more concerned about hers. In 1953 she had two abdominal operations and after the second one moved into the Klinik Brunner in Küsnacht, where she had been treated for her emotional breakdown in 1946. Once more, he was communicating with Bryher, who kept him informed of her progress. Her residence in the klinik, which stretched to almost a year, gave rise to extensive communication between them on Shakespeare and on prosody as H.D.'s doctor and counsellor, Eric Heydt ('a very old head on young shoulders,' she told Aldington), had encouraged her to conduct group readings of Shakespeare among the residents. It is interesting to observe here H.D.'s reliance on Aldington, her former adviser and mentor, even as the influence of a new one came into her life. Her feelings about the sheltered environment of the clinic were ambivalent. She told Aldington in November 1953: 'I am so happy here and staying NOT because I am not well, but because I have a pleasant room and books and time, and time, and time to read. I have such fun.' A year later, however, she moved to a hotel in Lugano, where she had spent the previous six summers, and told him that she was 'so happy to be on [her] own and independent'. His response was heartfelt. He was pleased to hear that she had 'escaped' from Küsnacht to 'the deep peace of Lugano' and told her: 'I look time and again on the last words of your card: "happy to be on my own again". Of course you are! And you must not again be anything else... you must be a whole and free person.'
It was a perennial problem for H.D.: the lure of the wise and reassuring (male) mentor and a secure environment versus the attractions of solitude and independence; Aldington, although he slipped comfortably into the mentoring role, paradoxically appreciated her need for autonomy. Their correspondence in these years shows them to have been remarkably in tune with each other's feelings and able to share both pleasures and anxieties. They talked often of Pound and his circumstances but they also exchanged pressed flowers and impressions of nature and the seasons – and he continued to send her the erotic postcard pictures. 'I never knew anyone but you and DHL who really understood flowers and made one feel their beauty,' he told her. In July 1956 she sent him a photograph of herself and he wrote: 'I have your snapshot on my work table. You have changed little and I was very glad to have it.' He was, as he had always been, proud of her achievements, telling his brother that her Tribute to Freud was 'beautifully written'. On receiving a copy of her 1957 Selected Poems, he wrote: 'You are much more sure of yourself and your art, and so less "taut" without losing any of the wonderful acuity and compression of the first poems.' He could not resist a comparison with Eliot and Pound: 'Eliot is a pedant and a plagiarist, and so is Ezra, compared with this entirely pure and lovely work of yours.'
When she flew to New York in September 1956 to see Perdita and her family, now consisting of three children, she continued to write to him. After returning to Switzerland, she had a fall and broke her hip, and was forced to stay in hospital for four months; when she left in February 1957 it was for the Klinik Brunner once more. 'Dear Dooley, how are you? Are you really getting stronger and better? Piano, piano, must be your motto,' Aldington wrote to her in March, and again in May: 'I worry so much about you, and wish you were up and about again.' Cohen's wife, Léa, had broken her hip shortly after H.D.'s accident and by June he was concerned that H.D. was still immobile while Léa was up and about, and wondered whether H.D.'s doctors had 'taken her for a ride'. He added an intimate observation: 'Certainly you are delicately and sensitively formed – who should know it better than I? – but you have the strength and health of a good stock and a good family.' Such was his concern that he wrote to Bryher for the first time since 1953 and received a full – and reassuring – report.
These were years that found H.D. at the top of her creative powers, while Aldington had little inspiration left. Apart from one or two periods of anxiety – such as when Bryher came up with the idea of selling Kenwin (and thus cutting her ties to Switzerland) or when she felt stifled by the Klinik Brunner – H.D.'s life was tranquil and financially secure; she was also winning a reputation in the United States, chiefly through the efforts of the American academic, Norman Holmes Pearson, who had met H.D. in New York in 1937 and been a frequent visitor at Lowndes Square while serving with American intelligence during the war. In contrast, Aldington's career and reputation were on the wane and his financial circumstances desperate. H.D. had some health crises – her abdominal operations and her broken hip – but her general health was good, while Aldington's was poor. Nevertheless, he rejoiced in her successes and sympathised with her problems without bitterness or envy.
H.D. with Bryher and Norman Holmes Pearson in the US, 1956
By 1957 he was facing a new problem. He had fallen behind on the rent at Les Rosiers on several occasions during his six years' stay and been rescued by Kershaw and Warman. Now, not only was he ten months in arrears but Les Rosiers was to be sold and a block of flats built on the site. Kershaw, who had started a new and well-paid job in December 1956, offered to buy a house in which Aldington and Catha could live rent-free. The Duttons offered £600 to clear the rent arrears but the process of sending this money from Australia was complex and slow. Aldington found himself forced to write frankly to H.D. about his circumstances:
You will think me very imprudent to have gotten myself and Catha into a state of virtual destitution, but such is the case.... Any (even five!) dollars you could lend us would be most gratefully received, and I can reply by assignment on US royalties – my Boccaccio and Alcestis still sell there. The Russians and East Germans also promise to pay me, but you know how uncertain they are.
Not only did H.D. send money (although her first cheque had to be returned as it was signed in pencil and misdated) but she called in Bryher, who immediately sent the 800,000 francs needed to settle the rent arrears. Aldington was grateful for Bryher's aid but – perhaps too unwell and anxious – could not avoid self-pity: 'Forgive me if I sound a bit rebellious, but this is a nice way for me to celebrate my 65th birthday after nearly 50 years of hard work, out of which I have been largely cheated by publishers.' 'The boycott of my books and person is only too real, and is not due to anyone's apathy but to vindictive dislike and spite,' he told her in a further letter. Furthermore, his response to Bryher's suggestion that his making an unannounced call on H.D. would lift her spirits immensely was to plead ill health and the need to make the move and find Catha a job. The prospect of coming face-to-face with H.D., after nearly 20 years, had frightened him.
Since Kershaw could not afford a property in the south, one was found at Sury-en-Vaux, near Sancerre in the Cher, only a hundred miles from Paris, where Catha could be found work. Cohen was horrified: 'A man in the sixties can't live alone – it is far too dangerous... [also] changing the mild climate of the south in the winter, so beneficial for your chest, for the dreadful and dark damp of the North.' There was no other option. 'It breaks my heart to leave the Midi,' Aldington wrote to H.D.; but on 24 July 1957 he left Montpellier for good.
### 21.A Solitary Life 1957-1961
Maison Sallé, Aldington's home from July 1957, was an unprepossessing six-roomed modern bungalow, the only building for miles around that was less than a hundred years old, its red-painted exterior a contrast with the half-dozen old stone houses close by, occupied by wine-growing families who had lived in this tiny hamlet outside Sury-en-Vaux for generations. Unlike most of those houses, however, Maison Sallé had electricity, running water, central heating and a bathroom. Aldington came to enjoy living in this remote spot, as Kershaw tells us, for the countryside was beautiful and it was a pleasure to be surrounded by vineyards. He also liked and respected the vignerons 'with their sense of hospitality, their readiness to render a service as between equals, their natural dignity and courtesy... and he was liked and respected by them'. 'The complete quiet and peace of this place are most healing,' he told Warman. When Bryher expressed concern about his isolation, he told her:
I am not in the least lonely in Sury – I love the silence, and the age-old peasant life of these people, who are not much corrupted or even disturbed by the hyper-nervous mechanical life of to-day. They live with the earth and in their religion, and one wouldn't disturb them for anything.
He gave H.D. an outline of his daily routine:
I go to bed about 8 pm and stay there whether waking or sleeping until about 10 am, getting up only to stoke the furnace and take in the morning milk from the little girl. I then drive (for I can't walk that far) the mile to Sury P.O., collect mail, newspaper and bread etc., return, and about 11 am take my first meal of brunch, which is simply a good English breakfast of eggs and bacon. I walk a little when it is not raining or too cold, and about four drive to beautiful old Sancerre, where I usually mail letters and do main shopping either there or at St Satur. About 6 I have a second meal – soup and fish or vegetables. The water here is not safe, but wine is too heating, but one can now get a light bock for about 1/- for rather less than a litre. And with that plus some Evian or Vichy I make out.
What is missing from this schedule, for almost the first time in his life, is work. His health was a source of anxiety to himself and others, and when, towards the end of 1957, he suffered paralysis of his right arm for several weeks, a doctor's examination found him to be run down from overwork and worry. Rest and a simple diet were prescribed. 'Books are out of the question for some time, probably for ever,' he told Warman. He had committed himself to writing a biography of Balzac for Paul Elek, Warman's former partner, so, through Rosica Colin, his literary agent since 1954 (and another Warman contact), Kershaw arranged for the contract to be cancelled. Aldington told Warman: 'If I can get articles, reviews, introductions – it is much better than killing myself with books that are not wanted and which give the highbrows another opportunity to be insulting.' Warman had already given him the job of writing introductions in English and French to a series of four books of photographs, of Italy, France, Switzerland and Austria. In early 1958 he offered him the task of translating the Larousse Mythologie Générale. 'I am deeply obliged to you for this job,' Aldington told him. 'It is the kind of work I can do in my present state of body and mind and I found the subject matter extremely interesting and learned a lot.' Quite what he had learned is revealed in a letter written as he finished the work: 'I knew that human beings everywhere and in every age were bloody fools, but this book proves it conclusively. The only race for whom there is anything to be said is the ancient Greek people – they at least believed in grace and beauty.' In the autumn of 1959 Warman commissioned him for another introduction to a book of photographs, this time of Rome. It was a task he performed too assiduously: the introduction had to be simplified for the publication. An amusing postscript to this story is that he decided that the original text might make an appropriate gift for friends and thus gave Potocki a commission for the Melissa Press. The result was so poor in quality that he had to apologise to everyone to whom he sent it.
The even greater service that Warman did for him was to have his own accountant examine Aldington's tax situation; the 42.5% tax he had consistently paid seemed to Warman excessive. Aldington ultimately received a substantial rebate and began to pay tax in France rather than in Britain. '[Y]ou are the only person who has ever helped me here,' he wrote to Warman, 'though I have had agents and bankers and what not. It is clear the damned Brits have been robbing me for years, and you were the only person who suspected it.' Other events helped him to achieve a more positive outlook on his circumstances. The small publishing house Four Square Books negotiated with Collins, who had let Lawrence of Arabia go out of print, in order to bring out a paperback edition in 1957, to which Aldington was able to add corroborating material which he had received from several reputable sources following the book's first appearance. Four Square sold 30,000 copies immediately and another 10,000 in a 1958 reprint. The company also reprinted Death of a Hero by negotiation with Heinemann, selling 20,000 copies.
Relations with Frere were at an all-time low in this period and were never fully restored. In 1959 Aldington asked his brother to find out which of his post-1945 Heinemann titles had gone out of print, so that he could recover copyright. Frere, he claimed, had personally promised to keep all his work in print, and had done so until 1939, after which time 'the hope of title counselled the scrapping of an author not persona grata at Buck House and similar Establishments'. 'He has mishandled a valuable literary property, through ignorance, snobbery and deferring to British journalism,' he told Tony. It was an intractable problem: there was little demand for most of his Heinemann titles, particularly the post-1945 work, but, if the books were out of print, booksellers could not obtain them or display them; and if – and here Aldington was right – his work was ignored or discounted by the critics, no demand was created. If not a despised writer, as he believed, he had become a forgotten one. The Four Square sales of Lawrence of Arabia and Death of a Hero and the 10,000 of a Paul Elek edition of The Decameron in 1957 demonstrated, however, that there were titles for which popular demand did exist.
Frere's continuing refusal to contemplate publishing Life for Life's Sake was a running sore in their relationship, as was Heinemann's holding on to the copyright of A Dream in the Luxembourg, which made it impossible for Aldington to publish a Complete Poems elsewhere. There was a further problem for him, however, which could not be blamed on Frere – or on Browning at Evans Brothers: if either publishing house had reprinted titles, the royalties would have gone to the Patmores. Frere was both exasperated and sad about the deterioration of his relationship with Aldington, telling Tony Aldington in 1959: 'I hope that I shall always retain whatever shreds of friendship he cares to offer me.' Matters were not helped by an estrangement between the Freres and Kershaw, who had so often mediated between the two men; unaware of the circumstances of Kershaw's separation from Patsy, the Freres had seen it as the ruthless abandonment of a mother and baby and had severed their connection with him.
Durrell was convinced that Aldington could restore his reputation, telling him in September 1959:
Lawrence Durrell and Claude Vincendon at Sommières, 1957
[T]he whole problem, as I see it, is that there is an empty chair marked R.A. You may have enemies among the middle-aged, but it is a more serious thing that many of the young do not know your name at all.... [Y]ou could rectify your whole rapport with your public by three television appearances.... At a blow you could alter the Aldington image (people seem to think that you are both grumpy and cantankerous and 'superior') – the young I mean. And with your film-star physique you'd have them bowled. Seriously, please plan a trip to England to recover the fortress; a carefully planned campaign, well thought out, would put you right back.
It was the advice Campbell had given Aldington eight years earlier, but now – as then – he had not the energy for such a 'campaign' – and no longer anyone in the literary or broadcasting establishments willing and able to mount it. Moreover, his bitterness and cynicism were entrenched:
Your suggestion of personal appearance on TV was made in all kindness, but I am sure that it would be even more disastrous than Aldous's attempt was for him. The sin is not exile (you too are an exile) but Huxley and I have published satirical novels, wherein we laugh consumedly at Brit pretensions, and I have debunked 2 local heroes, old Doug and Colonel Mecca, both sods of high degree. For this there is no pardon. The only way to treat them (Brits) is to kick them again, which I propose to do, if ONLY I can get back health and strength.
Williamson's The Golden Virgin was published in 1957 and dedicated to Aldington, who thought its account of the Somme 'simply magnificent; and certainly one of the greatest evocations of battle ever written'. The two men had put their differences behind them, but Williamson still returned occasionally to the issue of Aldington's bitterness, warning him in September 1957: 'Bitter satires are boomerangs. They indicate our inner conditions.' A letter of September 1960 – his first for seventeen months – returned to the T.E. Lawrence affair:
I think that if you could have modified or even omitted certain angry and contemptuous passages... you would have made a deeper impression. Perhaps you were 'too honest' to say the same things indirectly. I saw your first proof and it did injure you, by vituperative bits here and there: at the same time I saw you as one who was a self-exile and alone. I know also that you had tenderness in you; I was certainly one, in some moments, to whom you revealed concern and affection, and I shall never forget it.
Williamson had set himself a punishing task, producing a volume of A Chronicle of Ancient Sunlight every year from 1951 to 1969, and this, along with his infidelities, had taken its toll on his marriage by the early 1960s. The stress under which he had placed himself made him a poor correspondent during those years, sometimes more than a year passing without his writing to Aldington; the latter's letters frequently express concern about the lack of communication. When Williamson did write, it was often in order to seek consolation. Aldington would tell him in April 1959: 'I don't think you are forgotten. You are simply suffering from the boycott and virtual censorship imposed by the Establishment because of your unpopular political views.'
In the early months of Aldington's move, Cohen corresponded regularly, despite being in poor health and wheelchair-bound; but in December 1957 he was viciously attacked and robbed by his young male nurse. He never fully recovered and died in June 1958. News of another death came that year; in January H.D. forwarded a letter from Athol Capper telling her of Jessie's suicide. Aldington could probably not have acknowledged his own role in damaging Capper's life (a fact of which H.D. was well aware), but his haste to blame others was jarring:
This is a damned business about poor Jessie. Of course she never recovered from that unfortunate fact that her first lover was a pederast. And then Athol had that ghastly wound at Ypres, and in consequence was partially blinded. What will become of him?... It makes me speechless when I think of good innocent people like the Cappers, in their millions, paying for the spurious réclame of Lloyd Georges and Churchills, Haigs and Montgomerys, and all the rest of them.
In July 1958 Aldington heard from MacGreevy – for the first time in twelve years. MacGreevy and Beckett were still close friends and Kershaw had met the latter in Paris and given him Aldington's address. MacGreevy had been Director of the National Gallery of Ireland since 1950 but had suffered heart attacks in 1957 and 1958 and was in poor health. 'I have fallen on evil days,' Aldington told him in turn, explaining that he had overworked for a number of years, and been 'insulted by the brutal Anglo-American press for giving the truth about the national hero.' The quiet of Sury was, however, 'most healing'. MacGreevy insisted on sending him sums of money from time to time, reminding him of how frequently in the 1930s Aldington had given him financial assistance. They made plans for MacGreevy to visit Sury when travelling on the Continent on Gallery business, but each time they did so, MacGreevy was taken ill and had to return home. Aldington told Kershaw that MacGreevy was 'a most agreeable and highly cultivated man' but found it necessary to warn him when he was about to meet up with him in Paris: 'Remember that he is very Catholic and chauvinist Irish.' When a complimentary copy of MacGreevy's book on Poussin arrived at Sury, Aldington found it 'full of religious and political bigotries'. 'Except that the prejudices are different they are so violent they might have come from your dear self,' he told Kershaw.
However, the two men had a genuine affection for each other, built on those years in France and Italy in the 1930s, and MacGreevy mourned the actual loss of Prentice and the virtual one of Frere, writing to Aldington in November 1958: 'Maybe we'll all have a party together in France and be happy again and drink to our Charles.' Aldington was sceptical: 'I fear your dream of a meeting with them [the Freres] and me is indeed a dream.... Letters are not answered.' He blamed this on the Pinorman controversy: 'In my remoteness and ignorance I just set down cheerfully what we all know and took for granted, and the squawks were terrific.' 'That was followed,' he continued, 'by the bogus prince of Mecca. Apparently as a result of those two books, Frere and Billie Collins will never be peers, and much of that ever climbing up a climbing wave by their wives is a sheer waste.' Despite his continuing poor health, MacGreevy tried to be optimistic, writing a year later: '[M]aybe things will all work out for us yet, you and Frere and I will have a happy party, and say an inward prayer for our Charles. But what I look forward to is a couple of days with yourself.'
Catha had to return to Montpellier in the autumn of 1957, having failed in science and mathematics in the Baccalauréat Général in both 1956 and 1957, and she rented a room in order to prepare for the 'Philo-Bac' in the summer of 1958. By now she had a boyfriend, her future husband, Jacques Guillaume, and continued to be passionate about the Midi and about riding, but had few ideas about a career. Aldington thought that, once she had passed her baccalauréat, she could become an interpreter, and asked for help and advice from both Kershaw and Randall, in touch as they were with international organisations. He had been working, before moving to Sury, on a revised two-volume edition of the Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World, which was to be published in 1958, and he sold the publisher his interest in the book in order to pay for Catha's final year at the lycée.
In the late summer of 1958, having failed her Philo-Bac, Catha went reluctantly to London to visit her mother. Writing to Warman just before she left, Aldington expressed concern about her state of mind: 'Catha is here, very depressed about something. She hasn't confided in me so I don't know.' Warman, who had established a good relationship with Catha on her 1956 visit to London, went to visit her. It was to him – rather than to her mother – that she revealed her suspicion that she was pregnant. A test proved negative, but her physical problems required medical treatment, which Warman tactfully and sympathetically arranged. 'I am deeply grateful to you,' Aldington wrote, 'for helping Catha through this dismal trouble.' Perhaps recognising how the failure of communication between them must have hurt him, Catha wrote from London:
Dearest Daddy, I am now at 'home' (no comment) and madly trying to get away as soon as possible.... I do so much want after these two months of misery to collect a bit of peace before the fight again if you see what I mean.... I want to say that I have always known that when everything seems desperate I still have my Daddy, I have very often thought it.
She would tell Bryher after her father's death: '[M]y father never talked to me of my relations with men, so I never asked him what he felt.' This constraint applied to his own sexual history too: Catha was not told that H.D. was Aldington's ex-wife until shortly before she visited Zurich in 1959; and, in 1965, on receiving a cutting from Kershaw of an article by Patmore on her relationship with Aldington ('the greatest love of my life'), she remarked to Bryher: '[Y]ou all seem to have had such a fuller and more actif [sic] life than any I can imagine.'
Because of her enforced extended stay in London, Catha missed the 1958 autumn resit for her examinations and had to return to Montpellier for yet another year, studying shorthand and typing, preparing for her examinations the following summer and taking on part-time work as an English tutor. Aldington was able to tell Warman: 'She recovered her spirits very rapidly on getting back here [and] went off cheerfully to Montpellier,' but the events of that summer had left him anxious. 'Catha, unluckily, doesn't like her mother, and I was perhaps wrong in thinking she ought to try,' he told H.D., and later he confided to Bryher: 'It is almost impossible for a man to be both parents.'
The most surprising – and fortunate – event of these years was Bryher's decision at this point to fund Catha's continuing education. 'I want to get Catha settled – and then to die,' Aldington had told H.D. In January 1959 he could tell her that he had slept all night for the first time in years since getting Bryher's 'overwhelmingly kind letter'. Bryher's move was clearly designed to gratify H.D. ('I was delighted and touched when she told me,' H.D. told him), but her kindness to one who had been an enemy for so many years was remarkable. She and H.D. had already – since the Les Rosiers débacle – been sending Aldington gifts of money, which enabled him to spend an enjoyable 1958 Christmas holiday with his daughter, visiting Toulon, Menton, Monte Carlo, Aix and Avignon, ending up at Les-Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer in Catha's beloved Camargue, and meeting up with the Temples and the Durrells. In May 1959 Bryher suggested that Catha visit Switzerland after her examinations that summer for a vocational assessment and to discuss her plans for the future. She then provided the money for Catha, once her examinations were over (and passed) to spend a month in the Midi before flying to Zurich in October. 'Bryher is the kindest and most generous of friends – this extra holiday in the Camargue has made Catha wonderfully happy.... It is a grand farewell to her childhood and without Bryher's help and yours it could not have been done,' Aldington told H.D.
It had been a wonderful summer for them both, starting in early July with a fleeting visit to Pamplona for the encierro at the Saint Fermin Festival – both because Catha loved the bulls and as a commemoration of Campbell, whom they had both loved – followed by three weeks in Montpellier where Temple had lent them his flat and where the Durrells and the Millers attended her 21st birthday party. It was Henry Miller's first – and only – meeting with Aldington and he later commented:
Richard Aldington, Lawrence Durrell, Henry Miller and Frédéric-Jacques Temple, Pont de Sommières, July 1959
He was bigger, bolder, kinder, more sympathetic – and far less British – than I had pictured him in my mind.... Something in his eyes which spelled sadness – not human sadness, but the sadness of the animal which knows not why it is sad. Or, as if at some time or other he had experienced a profound betrayal.... And then, later in the day, after we had all had dinner together... to my surprise he waxed jovial. He laughed, drank, told stories – as a man might who had been deprived of human companionship for many moons.
As for Aldington's impression of Miller, he would write to H.D: 'He is a good kind of American – they do exist!' While in Montpellier he underwent dentistry and medical examinations, all arranged by the kindness of Temple, so was able to return in a confident state to Sury to welcome the Kershaws for their August holiday.
He asked H.D. tactfully: '[W]hen Catha comes to Suisse would you care to see her, or would you rather not?' She reassured him on the matter, adding: 'I only fear that Catha will find it VERY DULL here, en Suisse.' Aldington told her that Catha was thrilled at the prospect of meeting them both, but privately he wondered what Catha would make of the 'Swiss Cottagers' and told Kershaw that he suspected she would like H.D. and dislike Bryher. In the case of Bryher, he was completely wrong. She and Catha took to each other at once; their friendship – and her support for Catha – would last until Bryher's death in 1983. As for H.D., Aldington told her that Catha had found her 'beautiful and sweet' and 'loved her very much'. H.D. replied that Catha's visit had made her very happy. 'She is very endearing + everyone loved DAS MADCHEN,' she told him, thanking him for letting her come to them. 'Catha,' Aldington told Kershaw, 'seems to have done a veni, vidi, vici in Suisse... H.D. is enthusiastic – they seem to have made friends at once – and even Bryher is converted.' H.D. would tell George Plank:
Can you believe it? Catha Aldington turned up through Bryher's inspiration and bounty. This has been a very strange return to Rye, Sussex, where I knew Richard's two sisters. This girl is so strikingly 'Aldington' and though from Montpellier, she seems to have walked out of a cobbled Cinque Ports village.
Indulging her – and Plank's – perennial interest in gossip, she added: 'We can't find out yet the mystery of Richard's marriage and where and why Netta left him.... The girl has no connections of any kind with her mother's family except an old grandmother whom she visited in London and who did not seem in the least interested.'
What H.D. did not know was that Plank (himself a regular recipient of Bryher's generosity) had written spitefully to Bryher:
I detest cads like R.A. who send their responsibilities through Hilda to you. Expect you to unravel all the knots. They can always depend on your kind heart and are not disappointed.... What I cannot bear is that some people can casually open their mouths and EXPECT to be fed.
A week later he wrote: '[A] man responsible for so much suffering in others perhaps deserves his own. It is true that the child is innocent, and you make me see that she deserves help, and I can only hope that she will be grateful for it.' He asked H.D: 'Are you sure her mama's name is Netta: – she could be anybody, from my intuition.' What he had failed to grasp was the genuine affection that was being expressed in this project: H.D.'s for Aldington and Bryher's for H.D. The latter would remark to Aldington in February 1961: '[Bryher] has an uncannily selfless way of VICARIOUS ENJOYMENT.' Ever looking for ways to please H.D., Bryher now had another project in mind: she asked Aldington to find out whether Flint needed any financial support. Both H.D. and Pound were concerned about his welfare and Aldington obtained his address and tried to contact him but without any success; Flint died in March 1960.
The outcome of Catha's visit to Switzerland was her enrolment on an undergraduate course in 'Sciences Sociales' at the Sorbonne. She was to have a subsidy of a million francs a year, to be paid on a monthly basis. She remained in Paris for only a year, however, transferring to Aix, where she felt more at home, in the autumn of 1960. In 1961 Bryher bought her a car, enabling her to spend her weekends at Les-Saintes-Maries. She would graduate in 1964 and train subsequently to become a psychologist.
The correspondence between H.D. and Aldington continued to be regular, intimate and sustaining for them both. His continued habit of sending erotic pictures – including current beauties such as Brigit Bardot and Gina Lollobrigida – and initiating discussion of their physical attributes, to which H.D. responded with amusement, gave a frisson to the relationship. More intimately, they regularly reminded each other of their former shared life. 'When I think of what our brief time in Rome has meant to me – I am simply staggered,' he told her in December 1957, adding a few weeks later: 'Forty-five years ago today we were in Rome, and life seemed hopeful, however poor one was.' That idyllic Italian holiday of 1912-1913 crops up often. Concerned about the slowness of H.D.'s recovery after breaking her hip, he asks: 'Is there an (unwaxed) corridor in which you can walk and perhaps look over the lake?' Conceding that she has 'a weight of years', he reminds her, nevertheless, of how 'spry' her father was on their 'never-to-be-forgotten-tour'. H.D. in turn asks whether Aldington remembers standing with her and John Cournos outside Buckingham Palace on 4 August 1914, when 'the family appeared at various lighted windows, like dolls in a dollhouse'. When the crowd shouted 'We want war', she recalls Aldington and Cournos shouting back 'We don't', and her fear that they might get trampled to death. One revealing exchange concerned their participation in Imagism. When Aldington commented: 'How bitterly and deeply do I regret having anything to do with it!' H.D.'s response was: 'How sad I am that you so regret having had to do with the old Imagist saga.... At seventy-two, it is part of my youth.' While the one writer had not freed himself from his past – or forgiven it, the other had constantly used hers for creative inspiration and, in doing so, acknowledged its contribution to her fulfilment.
Despite her general contentment and rich creative output, H.D. was as nervous as ever and Aldington gave her constant support, sometimes suggesting courses of action but often simply providing affirmation. In September 1958, when, at the urging of Bryher and Pearson, but with some reluctance, she went to the US Embassy to reinstate her US citizenship, he applauded the move, although telling Warman:
This, though I don't think she knows it, is because Pearson at Yale wants to make his academic reputation by boosting her up as great American poet. He has the Pulitzer prize all teed up as soon as the news is broken, literary talent being, as we all know, a matter of toeing the line and knowing the right people.
It is important to note that this bitterness was not towards H.D. (who never was awarded the Pulitzer Prize) but towards what he perceived as the self-serving literary establishment.
His feelings towards Pearson, whom he had initially suspected of self-interest in his sponsorship of H.D., softened as he realised how much Pearson genuinely valued her work. He demonstrated a similar change of heart towards Harry T. Moore, whom he had also suspected of espousing D.H. Lawrence simply to boost his own academic career. Moore's visits to him at Sury in the summers of 1958 and 1960 established trust, particularly as Moore agreed to excise letters that libelled H.D. from his 1962 edition of Lawrence's letters and arranged in 1959 for Southern Illinois University Press to publish Mistral. Aldington's feelings towards that other American D.H. Lawrence scholar, Edward Nehls, were more consistently positive, although they never met. Nehls dedicated the second volume of his D.H. Lawrence: A Composite Biography to Aldington and asked him to write the foreword to the third volume. 'A very nice fellow, friend of Moore's, but also of mine,' Aldington told H.D.
H.D. and Perdita Schaffner on Lake Lugano during the 1950s
When, in April 1959, Heydt suggested H.D. learn to drive in order to give her more freedom, Aldington was prepared to oppose Bryher, who felt that H.D. was too old. '[Bryher] has been so staunch and loyal it is hard for me to argue,' wrote H.D. Aldington's response was to send her a list of driving terms with their German equivalents and various pieces of advice on driving. Earlier that month, faced with a visit from Perdita, H.D. confessed: 'I would love to see her but I do feel so humiliated and unpresentable. I am sure if I make a supreme effort all will be well – I KNOW that, and I am grateful not to be forgotten. But I know that you understand.' He did, telling her that he was sure the visit would be 'great fun', adding in a later letter: 'You must be as strong as possible for the meeting at the end of the month, which I'm sure will go off well.' Despite the difference of opinion on the driving issue, he showed constant respect for Bryher and appreciation of her support for H.D. In 1960, by which time he was himself a beneficiary of Bryher's generosity, he would tell Kershaw, who had sent him a cutting of an article about Bryher:
Not a word about [her] really vast philanthropy. She lives in four rooms of that 'factory', an ascetic sort of life, writing, and attending to her 'protégés'. She never gives to 'charitable organisations', only to persons, and has done more for literature than the bloody Brit guvverment [sic] ever did. (It was she who kept old Norman in his dotage.)
No sooner had Bryher settled Catha's future, than she turned her attention to H.D.'s concerns about Aldington's health and suggested that he come to Switzerland for a medical diagnosis. 'She does have marvellous ideas,' H.D. told him, 'but is so far ahead of me in energy.' Both she and Aldington felt nervous at the prospect of a meeting. 'I'm so shabby you'd be ashamed for me to be seen,' he wrote, 'but under Catha's tyranny a corduroy complete is being made in Sancerre.' He asked Bryher to be present when the two of them met: 'Hilda will have kittens at seeing me.' H.D. turned, as she had done in 1929, to Pound, now living in Italy since his release from St Elizabeth's in April 1958: 'I have not seen R.A. for twenty-one years + am terribly apprehensive, I mean, merely physically – will I come unstuck?' Pound's response was identical to that of 1929: to the horror of Bryher, he suggested that he come to Zurich too, a proposal very quickly turned down.
The trip proved a pleasure to them all and the medical results were reassuring: exhaustion and overweight were the chief problems. H.D. told Plank (who had, like Pound, been a confidant during her 1929 reunion with Aldington):
[I]t was all very strange. His voice seemed more charming than ever.... We gossiped long and easily on the superficial, and that was fun too. He is, of course, a little heavy, but he always was. His hair is grey. Heydt... spoke of R. as 'an English gentleman' and R. did seem here astonishingly English and, as I say, he was easy or at ease after the initial inevitable tension. He spoke of things that happened 40 years ago, as if it were yesterday, but you know how the past, the real past, is printed or photographed on one's mind or in one's psyche.
They had lunched twice at Aldington's hotel and he had visited her twice for tea at the klinik; he had also visited Kenwin. Plank was wilfully misunderstanding: 'I am so shocked by the shock to you at Richard turning up and telephoning out of the blue! Thank all the gods and goddesses that Bryher was at hand to be a prop – and a very present help in time of trouble.' 'I pity him with all my heart,' he wrote patronisingly (and insincerely) in a subsequent letter, 'because he has made such a mess of his life, it is tragic.'
Aldington was away a week, using the opportunity to visit Vézelay, Dijon, Bourg and Cluny en route. 'How to thank you and Bryher for all you did I know not,' he wrote, once back at Sury, closing the physical distance between them with the comment: 'My green fields this afternoon are as misty as your lake.' In response, H.D. told him: 'It was good to have you bring a new vibration here – or a new old vibration.'
Ezra Pound, Genoa, 1958
He told Durrell: 'She is 73, crawling about still on crutches... lonely in that Klinik,' but still 'a noble-looking woman and bright as sunlight.' His visit had increased his anxiety about her circumstances at the Klinik Brunner. She had moved back there in February 1957 to convalesce after her accident and, despite wistful talk of Lugano, and murmurings about the 'semi-invalid atmosphere' of the klinik, had not left, constrained by both her difficulties in walking and her emotional dependence on Heydt. One course of action, recommended by Bryher, Pearson and Perdita, was for her to settle in the United States but she told Aldington in the spring of 1959 that, although she was not sure that she could stand another winter in Switzerland, her 'files and roots' were in Europe.
She had been in fairly constant contact with Pound since his release, and letters also passed intermittently between Pound and Aldington. As always, Aldington's feelings towards his old friend fluctuated. In April 1958 he was pleased to hear from H.D. that Pound's 'long martyrdom' was over and hoped that he would find 'a quiet refuge' in Italy, reflecting on the 'amazing courage and energy' with which Pound had borne his thirteen-year incarceration. However, he was also concerned about H.D. becoming too involved with Pound. This may have been partly out of jealousy, and some of his communications with Bryher around this time would support that notion: he told her that Pound was 'in a very jumpy state, with chips on both shoulders and a great sense of his own importance' and that she should not take him seriously 'even as a poet, and politically it's all bunk'. More importantly, however, he was concerned for H.D.'s emotional stability and also for her public reputation, just as she was becoming a celebrated figure in America; he warned Bryher that H.D. should not link up with Pound, who was 'quite discredited except in the neo-Nazi crowd'.
It was a brief letter from Pound in the summer of 1959 that moved him to greater sympathy: 'Cher R/ amid cumulative fatigue, and much that has gone to muddle. Thinking of early friendships and late. This is to say that I have for you a lasting affection.' Aldington told H.D. how 'shattered' he was to receive this note:'It upset me greatly – seems to have something valedictory about it.... It seems to indicate surrender – although I have never doubted the warmth of his heart.' That warmth was displayed in a comment Pound made to H.D.: 'Not since Brigit, Richard, the 4 of us, has there been any harmony around me.' Writing at the end of 1960 to Charles Norman, whose biography of Pound was published that year in the United States, Aldington told him that he had found Pound's letter 'infinitely touching, a flash of "the real Ezra" so long lost "under the rubble"'. Sadly, he added: 'I responded as warmly as I could, but evidently not enough, as nothing happened; and later letters go unanswered.' He – and H.D. – approved of Norman's book. He told him: 'You have treated Ezra with the respect and affection the better side of him deserves, and you have had the courage to try to tell the truth, not to acquiesce in his later extravagances, absurdities and worse.' He was struck by Norman's phrase, 'This man could have done anything', which, in his view, 'put the whole tragedy in six words'. 'Those who knew Ezra pre-1914,' he explained, 'would agree that no one else at that time seemed to have a more brilliant future.'
When H.D. sent him End to Torment, her memoir of Pound, he told her that he had 'wolfed [it] down with the utmost interest and approval' and was now starting to reread it since it was 'a most subtle text which must be reread and brooded over'. He proceeded to type up the manuscript for her. Given public attitudes about Pound, he advised her not to consider publication for the time being, but there seems to have been no jealousy here. His respect for her creative output never wavered, despite his doubts as to whether it was publishable.
Despite his genuine affection for the Pound who had befriended him nearly 50 years earlier and his pity for the ordeal his friend had undergone, he could not forget that Pound had been a non-combatant in the First World War. Quoting to Durrell the well-known lines from Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, 'There died a myriad, / And of the best, among them, / For an old bitch gone in the teeth, / For a botched civilization', he commented:
We don't want his condescending croc's tears. If he had carried down in stretchers sick, wounded and corpses, if he had lived and slept week in, week out, with wounds and death, stood by open graves as the young men were lowered in their blanket coffins, cursing bloody God and the blasted Government, then perhaps he might humbly – not with his conceit – take his place as mourner. He spent the war keeping out of it, like his mate Eliot; and in the name of five years of mute casualties I spit on that particular effusion of a draft-dodging yank.
His own political outlook remained to the left of Pound's, and he would have no truck with the latter's anti-Semitism. Kershaw became a friend of the Mosleys, finding them 'very intelligent, amusing and charming', and the Mosleys next tried to 'woo' Aldington, inviting him to write for Action, their relaunched newspaper. He refused, although he did contribute an article on Campbell to the last issue of Diana Mosley's European, before it folded in February 1959. Mosley was standing as a candidate in the 1959 General Election and Aldington told Kershaw, 'He hasn't an earthly chance. He outed himself for ever when he did that pseudo-Hitler stunt in the 1930s.' However, he was happy for Catha to accept an invitation to lunch with the Mosleys while she was studying in Paris. He also came to like Michael Harald, a regular contributor to the Mosley publications, whom Kershaw brought to visit him in Sury and who went to Italy to interview Pound in 1960. Harald, he told Warman, was 'a good lad (ex R.A.F. Bomber Command) but fascinated by Mosley's personal charm and culture'.
He had another reason for staying out of right-wing politics. He would write to his brother in July 1961: 'I got an invite from Lady Mosley to go and stay with her and the Bart at Orsay. Refused, as I didn't want to get entangled with politicos, and thought that it would displease my friends in Moscow.' In the USSR he was now an acclaimed writer, although his popularity went back to the 1930s: Death of a Hero had first been translated into Russian in 1932, The Colonel's Daughter in 1935 and All Men Are Enemies in 1937. In 1959 a new edition of All Men Are Enemies was published (225,000 copies), followed in 1961 by a Death of a Hero in English (100,000 copies) and a translation of short stories taken from both Roads to Glory and Soft Answers. In the foreword to the second Russian edition of Death of a Hero, published in 1935, the writer Ivan Anisomov had spoken of the novel's 'genuine and very bitter realism', claiming that 'Aldington wrote about the "decline of the West" directly, without reserve, mercilessly'. He had, Anisomov, maintained, 'reached the "limit" attainable by a writer within the confines of bourgeois "respectability"'.
In 1957 Mikhail Urnov, Professor of Literature at the Moscow Institute of Printing Arts and member of the Soviet Union of Writers, had written to invite Aldington to Moscow for his 65th birthday, an invitation he had had to turn down on grounds of ill health and because he had to make the move from Montpellier that summer; but he was also dissuaded from the visit on political grounds by everyone from H.D. and Durrell to Randall. In 1960 he received a copy of the recently published third volume of the Russian History of English Literature. Chapter 14 was devoted to himself – 20 pages, he told Warman. He had also begun to receive Russian royalties and advances, which had previously been blocked. He continued to keep in touch with Urnov and with Professor Dilyara Zhantieva of the Gorky Institute of World Literature, who wrote the preface to the English language edition of Death of a Hero.
Explaining his surprising popularity in the Soviet Union to Potocki in 1960, he wrote:
[A]s you say, they perfectly well know that I am not a Left-wing writer, but I think they dislike parlour pinks much more than Tories. Further, I believe that neither the Writers nor the public is so 'sold' on communist art as the Party wants.... The Writers' Union gets me past the Comrades by passing me off as a chief critic of bourgeois decadence, who may one day be converted to the one true faith.
He told Bird the following year:
From the very warm-hearted and (I am sure) sincere letters I get from Mikhail Urnov and Mrs Zhantieva, I infer that the writers are very far from toe-ing the Party Line, but have to go cautiously – and we must help them. They want peace and culture. What do the Beaver [Beaverbrook], the Rother [Rothermere], the yanquis [sic] want, but Cold War and more Money For Them?
He was also impressed that in the USSR it was the Union of Writers, not publishers, who chose foreign books for translation.
His attitude towards the Cold War had always been sceptical. He had told Bird back in 1953 that he suspected that Russia and America were 'simply head and tail of the same coin' and that what Russia needed was 'a serious world guarantee against American aggression and further encirclement'. He was incensed by the American spy plane incident of May 1960, blaming the United States for: 'put[ting] us back in the evil days of mutual suspicion and hatred'. 'The Yanks have a myth that everything said by K. or any other Russian means something else,' he told his brother. 'I think they mean what they say, which the yanks don't. The Russ wanted a detante [sic], and the yanks have killed that.'
He was not entirely finished with work. He spent at least three hours a day over the autumn of 1959 working on the revision of the Encyclopaedia Britannica anthology of poetry of the Western world which he had first completed before leaving the United States in 1946. It would never be published. In the spring of 1960 he found it a struggle to produce a 'pocket-book' on D.H. Lawrence for the German publisher, Rowohlt. He toyed with Moore's suggestion of a biography of Durrell but knew that he had neither the will nor the stamina for a book. 'I can't go on working – an article even gives me sleepless nights,' he told Durrell. 'You will find that 50 years of earning a living for self and others are quite enough. There comes a time when one can no more.' Bryher's decision, in January 1960, to pay him an annuity of a hundred dollars a month so that he need not work settled the matter. Later that year, with the advent of the Lady Chatterley trial, he would be reminded of that world of publishing and readership that had almost ceased to concern him. He chose to stay on the sidelines, refusing Penguin's request for him to appear as a defence witness, but was gratified by the verdict when it came on 2 November. 'True it would have been pleasant to think of Lane picking oakum in Reading Jail,' he remarked to Warman, 'but doubtless if found guilty he would only have been fined, since he is not a degenerate author of genius but a virtuous money-maker.'
Given greater freedom, he was now able to leave Sury more often. The Duttons arrived in England at the beginning of 1960 with their two-year-old son; Dutton had been given a three-month lectureship at Leeds. As soon as the opportunity arose, the couple drove across to France where Aldington, eager for them to meet his two most admired writers, had planned a trip which would take in a visit to Zurich and then proceed south to Nîmes. On 25 March they dined with H.D. Dutton recalls H.D. appearing at the top of the stairs at the Klinik Brunner, 'tall and majestic... and waving her arms and the sticks that supported her when she walked', she and Aldington embracing in tears and '[b]ehind all this drama... little Bryher, neat and tidy and anonymous in a tweed suit'. 'In contrast,' writes Dutton, 'H.D.'s long dress was stylish, and she had taken great care in making up her face.... She was a fascinating mixture of great dignity and gaiety, dragging on a cigarette as she talked.' He remembers Aldington as so exhausted by this meeting that he slept throughout most of their journey through France the next day. Their next engagement, after 'visiting old haunts', was dinner with the Durrells. Dutton recalls Durrell as 'a little man with a neat head, sparky with humour and wordplay' and he adds: 'It was obvious that he venerated Richard.' No sooner was Aldington back at Sury than he had to set off for Zurich once more, to pick Catha up from a visit to H.D. and Bryher.
H.D. had been awarded the Gold Medal of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and was due to travel to New York to receive the award. Additionally, Bid Me to Live, for which Aldington had failed to find a publisher five years earlier, was to be published in New York by Grove Press. Aldington was delighted with her success but taken aback when H.D. suggested that he accompany her. '[Y]ou would not have to be on view,' she told him. 'The Stanhope is just opposite the Museum + you could stay there incog., with me, in the middle distance, also incog.' The prospect of being in H.D.'s company without the chaperoning presence of Bryher, Catha or the Duttons, or without such pretexts as seeing doctors, must have frightened him. He wrote back: 'New York. What next! My dear girl...'
Fortunately, Bryher came up with an alternative companion: Blanche Brunner, grand-daughter of Dr Brunner, the director of the klinik. It seems surprising that Bryher herself did not accompany H.D., as she had on her 1956 US visit. Guest suggests: 'It was H.D.'s moment of triumph and she wanted H.D. to prove to herself that she needed no one to assist her in receiving the tributes that would follow.' H.D. wrote to Aldington from New York, telling him about the ceremony and also of her visit to the Metropolitan Museum, where she had felt 'completely at home with Pompeii and archaic Greece'. Once back at the Klinik Brunner, she was once more uncertain about permanent plans, telling him that she did not want to 'get stuck' there again, but unsure whether she could contemplate going to America permanently.
Aldington was able to spend some of the summer of 1960 with Catha in the Camargue, visiting Pamplona again for her birthday and then returning to France for his. In the autumn he spent three weeks in Aix, to see her settled into her new university course. He was back in Sury by the beginning of November but at the end of the month he returned to the Midi, he and Catha spending a few days with the Durrells before flying to Rome for the last two weeks of December. He told H.D. what a 'tremendous stimulus and "uplift"' the trip had been: '[O]ne forgets how footling and dull this mechanical world is compared with the Ancients and the Renaissance.' H.D. had asked them to locate a group of shepherd musicians by the Spanish Steps and give them some money, which she regretted not having done in 1954; remarkably, they were able to do so. However, although Rome was wonderful for Aldington, Catha was often bored. On their return to Aix, she headed back to the Camargue for New Year's Eve, leaving him to spend the start of the New Year alone in the Hotel Sévigné. His being able to do so at a time when the hotel was closed, was due to his being an associate member of the Félibres, an honour bestowed on him in 1954. His love of the region – and its leading poet – had also been recognised in the award of the Prix Frédéric Mistral in 1959.
Catha had meanwhile confided in H.D. about her emotional life and her wish to become engaged to Jacques. H.D. encouraged her but, aware that he was both French and Catholic, advised her to find out about French law. She later told Aldington in a typically convoluted letter:
Catha wrote me for confidential 'advice' – I was sure you knew of it – but I wrote her – did not mention it to you and don't say I told you – I said: I agree with the IDEA (romance) (???) but she must beware of TRAP, such as nationality problem or/and religion.
Early in February Aldington returned to Sury, where he was visited by Potocki. He told Kershaw:
H.D., by Islay Lyons, 1961
Our squalid hovel here has been honoured by the King of Poland and one of his illegitimate princesses – the English one, brought up by T F Powys. They arrived unannounced and unheralded about 6.30 looking as hungry as the mungrils on The Estate – and ate up everything, drank all my vine [sic], and at breakfast the last of my carefully guarded English Breakfast Tea. They then borrowed 20NF, and departed saying they would call in on the way back to England. Such are the Maoris. No Ozzie acts like that.
Kershaw's own visits to the Maison Sallé had become an increased pleasure to Aldington since the birth of Kershaw's son, Sylvain, in March 1960. Warman was given regular reports on the little boy's progress, Aldington telling him in October 1960:
Sylvain is certainly the most energetic and beautiful boy and will probably be the dictator of New South Wales if Alister doesn't sabotage him. I never saw such a beautiful and attractive young child. Even you would be converted. He struts, sings, whistles, trills, grins and blows raspberries with indefatigable energy in the small hours, thus keeping his parent [sic] miserably awake. Trouble is Alister loves him too much. But what can we do?
Spring came to Sury and Aldington described the violets and the cowslips to H.D., but Bryher, delighted by his accounts of his visit to Rome, had another suggestion to make: Venice. He toyed with the idea of a book on the city to justify the trip but she soon persuaded him that he should just enjoy the break. Catha told Bryher: 'Daddy went off to Venice looking ten years younger. It is a real happiness to me to see him take part in life again after so long.' He wrote to H.D.: 'So beautiful is Venice! I spent the morning in the Accademia – such lovely pictures. I wanted to steal them all for you!' A few days later he told her: 'As France is the last beleaguered citadel of European living, so Venice is the last little fortress of pre-machine times.' With characteristic pessimism he added: 'And the machine men and the money men will destroy it.' She was inundated with letters and postcards, as was Bryher. Remembering 1930, he sent cards to MacGreevy, as well as to Warman, Kershaw and Durrell. On 12 May, he gave H.D. a detailed account of his 'lovely "last day"', saying that he did not know how to thank her and Bryher for 'these enchanting five weeks'. 'Tomorrow,' he finished, 'I shall take the slow boat to Piazzale Roma, for a last, lingering look at the Grand Canal.' Bryher's response was to send him the funds for a further week. It was 18 May before he set off on the journey back to the Midi, to Catha's stone cottage, Mas Dromar, at Les-Saintes-Maries. He told Bryher: 'Venice was an enchantment, and I feel in better health than for years.' However, despite H.D.'s urging, he had been unwilling to contact Pound while in Venice:
Bryher, by Islay Lyons, 1961
After that terrible indictment by Hausner of Eichmann, the Nazis, the Germans and their admirers, I CAN'T, I just can't. It is too horrible & I just can't condone it, I am cutting off all communication with pro-Nazis I know. If this is smug, well it is, but it isn't vile, cold-hearted torture and murder.
H.D. had meanwhile had a setback. On the death of Dr Brunner, his son had decided to sell the klinik. H.D., having contemplated a move on so many occasions, was now terrified at the prospect. Bryher arranged for her to move into the Hotel Sonnenberg in Zurich. Aldington told her: '[S]o glad you have found a refuge in the Hotel Sonnenberg. I KNEW you would – have been putting up candles to saints for you, this morning to Santa Lucia.' She wrote back:
Br thinks of everything + worked so very hard, bringing bags and books from Verena [her home at the klinik]. The last days were, in a way, almost funny, two near-suicides, a girl breaks arm, old lady goes down with double pneumonia. Br said, 'stay in bed – anything might happen'. But I could not let her do the heavy packing alone + here I am with one full, stuffed bookcase, radio, a large bathroom, a large balcony + the galaxy of Z underneath at night + raging song-birds at dawn – all new furniture, but not ultra-modern + two lovely flower-prints + room, a garden, with lilac, muguet, red roses.... Telephone by my nice, low bed – I hardly know myself + feel that I have descended from space or up out of the horrendous depth. There are thick woods on one side + the open view ahead across the lake. The candles must have 'worked', thank you + them.
Despite the approving nature of the comments, there is here that breathlessness characteristic of H.D. when in an acutely nervous state.
A month later she told him that she had had 'a siege of sleepless nights, Br said due to suppressed anxiety or ANGST about the Brunner break-up'. 'But I think that I am out of the woods,' she reassured him. A few days later, she told him that she was receiving injections for 'cardiac insufficiency'. Bryher had alerted him to the seriousness of her condition, and he had meanwhile written to say how 'grieved indeed' he was to hear that the delayed shock of 'that sudden and brutal up-rooting from Küsnacht' had made her so ill. He told her that she must not exert herself to write and that he would depend on Bryher for news. On 6 June she had a stroke.
### 22. From Tragedy to Triumph 1961-1962
Although H.D. recovered her mobility quite soon and could understand what was said to her, she could neither speak, read nor write. Aldington had to correspond with Bryher for news. As the weeks went by, reports fluctuated in their level of optimism. A month after her stroke, he told his brother that she was improving daily, able to eat and to walk with the aid of her nurse's arm, and that speech was beginning to return. Six weeks later, when he realised how serious her condition was, he suggested to Bryher that she be given an advance copy of Helen in Egypt, shortly to be published by New Directions: 'If she can read at all her own familiar words might help her to recover language.' Bryher asked him to come to Zurich with Catha for H.D.'s 75th birthday on 10 September.
Meanwhile, he had introduced complications into his life. Writing to Netta from Catha's mas, the day after his return from Venice, he had asked: 'Do you want to come down here? It is hideously uncomfortable, but there are hotels. You ought to see the place.... I can meet you by appointment at any place you like.... Is it possible to fly to Tours?' Then he suggested: 'If we met there, we could run down the Loire a bit, and glimpse one or two chateaux and then turn south to avoid the rush.' That Netta should visit her daughter was a reasonable suggestion; that he and his wife should have a holiday alone together was unprecedented. 'She is a splendid woman,' he had told Gluckman a year earlier, 'sensual and not romantic.' Now Gluckman was regaled with a full account of the 1961 holiday in respect of Netta's physical charms and their sexual practices. He revealed that Netta, though living alone, led a full sexual life. The contact with Gluckman, still living in South Africa, had been re-established in 1955 when she had written to him after the publicity surrounding Lawrence of Arabia, but only became regular in 1960, when she sought help for placing articles and he put her in touch with his agents in the UK and the US. His letters quickly took on their former prurient quality, at his instigation and with her compliance.
Richard and Catherine Aldington, 1962
From everyone else the holiday was kept secret. Whether Catha was aware of the revival of her parents' relationship, and, if so, how she viewed this development, is not clear. Aldington told Gluckman that he had kept the contact between mother and daughter down to less than 24 hours, 'to avoid the usual antagonisms'. In July, after successfully completing her Propédeutique, Catha came for a short stay at Sury with Jacques. The Kershaws also came for their summer holiday visit that month. Aldington was surprised to find how well Kershaw and Jacques got on with each other but confided to Netta that it was probably because they were both 'Fascists'. This was a time, as the Algerian War came to a crisis, when political opinions in France were as sharply polarised as they had ever been, but it is interesting to note in his ongoing discussions about the war with his brother and with Warman, that Aldington distanced himself completely from the colonialists and the supporters of the Organisation Armée Secrète. French politics, however, rarely seemed to stir him as much as British.
The other complications concerned his own family. His relations with his siblings had improved since his mother's death in 1953 and he had expressed concern for Margery (and for Pattie, his younger sister, Margery's dependent) on the death of her husband in January 1960, particularly in relation to the continuation of her late husband's Indian railway pension. His correspondence with his brother shows that he heard quite regularly from her after this and was reassured about her financial circumstances; indeed by November 1961, much to his horror, she was suggesting that he and Catha come to live with her in Rye. He felt compassion for her ('Poor Molly – Life is a lousy business for her') but her intense Catholicism, which must have reminded him of his father, and what he described as 'the awful repressed energy of the unemployed female', reminiscent perhaps of his mother, repelled him. Now she suggested that she come to visit him, and he turned to his brother for help: 'Molly hinted at coming over here in August by car with a female friend. Discourage this in the name of god and his blessed mother. The main French roads are already a pandemonium of tourists and an English car... is really dangerous.' His grounds for putting his sister off appear rather disingenuous.
He had also been in contact since 1954 with another branch of the family, his brother's first wife and the two (adult) children of that marriage, Jennifer and Tim. When Jennifer had first written to him he had responded: 'I have always thought that relatives and so on were people better to let alone; your letter changed my ideas on that subject.' Tim Aldington, having trained in Agricultural Engineering, had spent almost three years as an Agricultural Field Officer in Tanganyika and in the summer of 1961 had just returned to Britain. He was 25 years old and his sister, 28. The family had asked if they might visit and Aldington had arranged for them to arrive on 4 September. He took them on a trip to Vézelay one day to see the abbey and to have a restaurant meal, as a change from his home cooking. He and Catha, however, had to reach Zurich on the night of the eleventh: Bryher was to see H.D. on her birthday, the tenth, and he and Catha on the twelfth. He explained to his relatives that he had to visit a 'friend' in Zurich who was seriously ill, and they left in time for him to depart as planned.
He was hugely anxious at the prospect of seeing H.D.: 'I feel that she will not want to see me while this speech difficulty remains,' he told Bryher, and he wrote to Pearson: 'I think Hilda might like to see Catha, but I doubt it would be wise for me to present myself. I think she would not like her ex-husband to see her with these disabilities.' Catha knew her father well enough to know that this was about his own distress; telling Bryher how nervous and upset he was, she commented: 'I suppose that when one's life has been so attached to Hilda's as Daddy's is, it will be painful for him to see her unable to speak.' The visit was made; they stayed in Zurich for two days, but only Catha was permitted by the doctors to see H.D. They returned via Sury to Catha's mas at Les-Saintes-Maries and on 2 October moved to Aix so that Aldington could support her as she started her final two years at the university, specialising now in Psychology. He would stay in what had become his usual accommodation, the Hotel Sévigné. 'They have let me have a rather nice room looking over a quiet patio with shrubs, flowers and small trees, with plenty of sun,' he told his brother. 'If I like it, I may stay on for some time.' He would remain there for nearly six months.
H.D. died on 27 September. Bryher sent a telegram and followed it up with a letter, but they were sent to Aix, so it was 2 October before Aldington knew. A copy of Helen of Egypt had been placed in her hands the day before she died. 'I dashed over yesterday,' Bryher told him:
I was able to see her – I have seen many dead – but no one more beautiful and as if she were going to open her eyes and laugh at us and although it had happened eighteen hours before she seemed scarcely cold. I know it must have been a horrible shock for you – I shall miss her terribly but I do feel that in a way it was merciful. She seemed to be getting worse almost every day. But her mind was there and she minded the frustration terribly.
H.D.'s partner and closest friend for over 40 years, she signed her letter to him, 'All my sympathy'. He replied:
It is a great shock and grief, although I have been trying to prepare for it, but I had hoped it would not be so soon. But after all it is best that she should not have gone on suffering. What more can be said? Only that I hope you will now be able to rest and to recover. It has been a great strain for you.
A few weeks later he told her: 'It has been much more of a shock and loss to me than I had expected. I had got into the habit of noting things to tell her in letters and picking up postcard photographs I thought might interest her. So that I am constantly reminded of the loss.'
The first letter of sympathy he received was from MacGreevy, who had seen the notice in The Times on 29 September and written immediately. '[Y]our appreciation of her gifts and your tender thoughts for her,' he wrote, 'have always been amongst the rarest and finest things in your character. And I know enough to realise that she appreciated them and reciprocated them.... [A]t the level of poetry, it seems to me that you and she never ceased to belong to each other.' He recalled their meeting in Florence for dinner in 1931: 'Between you, you and HD created an atmosphere that remains a fragrant memory.' It was MacGreevy to whom Aldington would confess several months later: 'The loss of her fills me with a great void.'
Closer to hand, there were the Durrells. With perhaps a little less understanding of the place of H.D. in Aldington's life, Durrell wrote: 'I know what you feel. And yet a poet's death is never wholly sad in the sense of a life unlived – because the work is there, like the after-taste of a wine of high vintage.' It was a comfort to have friends less than two hours away and he would spend Christmas that year with them. Warman was renting the Frere villa at Cap Ferrat in October and drove the 200 kilometres to Aix to take him out for dinner. Aldington had taken his car off the road as an economy – Catha had hers – and was therefore dependent on friends to come to him. Another visitor – and still regular correspondent – was Potocki, who came to see him in December. His loss of H.D. seems to have made him more conscious of the affection and kindness of those around him, including the Durrells, Warman and Bryher, but also his own brother. Over the years his letters had often barely concealed his frustration at Tony's inability to understand and resolve problems which, in some cases, were intractable, certainly for a country solicitor with little experience of the world of publishing: his quarrels with Frere, his debts to the Patmores, his tax affairs and so on. Now he wrote to him: 'Your knowledge of and interest in my books are most heartening.'
He was also visited by someone from his past: Charles Pearce of Duell, Sloan and Pearce, who was hopeful of bringing out a 'Selected Poems'; but the firm had just been bought by the Meredith Publishing Company and nothing would come of the idea. In December he heard from two men (perhaps aware of his bereavement) who had always been firm defenders of his work. C.P. Snow wrote to tell him how much he regretted that they hadn't met for so many years. 'We must meet somewhere and somehow next year,' he concluded, sending his 'affectionate good wishes'. William Haley wrote that he still found Aldington's writings about D.H. Lawrence 'truer than anything'. 'I do not suppose, however, you look much into the past,' he continued:
Do tell me something about how you spend the present. What are you writing? And do you any longer feel the old Artifex anxiety about the world or have you given it up as hopeless? Probably not. I also suspect that under your pessimism and rage at the folly and futility of modern society there was a tough innate streak of confidence in the future of the ordinary man.
A surprising boost – if a half-hearted one – to Aldington's reputation came with the publication in October 1961 of Lawrence of Arabia: The Man and the Motive by the diplomat and Conservative politician Anthony Nutting (historical adviser to Horizon Pictures, the production company for David Lean's 1962 film, Lawrence of Arabia). Crawford describes the Nutting biography as 'essentially a paraphrase of Seven Pillars'. This is accurate, except in relation to the final chapter, 'The Motive', in which Nutting tries to account for Lawrence's departure from Damascus in September 1918 and his enlistment in the RAF in terms which Aldington would have found acceptable. Nutting even refers to Lawrence's 'silly pretensions' that he had been offered high-ranking positions. This, of course, fired up Liddell Hart ('Diddle Hart, who will go on blustering and bluffing to the end', Aldington told his brother), who responded to the TLS critical review of the book with a characteristically disputatious letter; the reviewer responded that, while Liddell Hart 'understandably wished to adhere to the opinions which he formed in the 1920s... other people must be allowed to revise early judgements in the light of later knowledge'. 'In that process,' he continued, 'Mr Aldington played an undeniable part, although it is common ground that he went much too far.' Aldington told Potocki: 'The Times and TLS came out at least 50% in my favour. And Muggeridge in the New Statesman was witty, and very contemptuous of TEL and Nutting.' Kershaw wrote to him: [Y]ou cannot deny that your tribute to the Colonel has done its job. Ten years ago nobody would have questioned anything about him: now nobody can refer to him without at least conceding that he was 50% phoney. And the rest will follow.' Meanwhile, the production of Terence Rattigan's Ross – still playing in the West End after two years – and the publicity surrounding the David Lean film, which would be released at the end of 1962, had vastly increased sales of the Four Square edition of Aldington's book. He told Warman in December 1961 that, while 3,650 copies had been sold in 1960, the first half of 1961 had already seen sales of 7,123.
In February came a letter from wholehearted admirers, the Soviet Union of Writers, conveying once more an invitation to visit the USSR for his birthday – this time his 70th. He and Catha were invited for a three-week visit with all flights and expenses paid; and this time the friends whose counsel he sought – his brother, Bryher, Kershaw and Warman – were encouraging. He returned to Sury in March with his plans for the next few months worked out: a week's touring with Netta in May and his visit to the Soviet Union in June and July. The holiday with Netta, as in the previous year, was a secret. He told his brother: 'I have to take a friend on a 10-day tour round France. In a way it is rather a bore, but it makes a change,' and his niece, Jennifer, was informed that he was going on a ten-day tour of France, 'taking an old friend who spends most of the year in a London office'. On his return both Tony and Bryher were told that he was back from his trip with his 'friend from London.' Williamson had to be kept in the dark about both projects: 'In May I must give up a fortnight to drive an old friend round France during the brief annual escape from London. In July Catha and I have a foreign invite for three weeks which can't be avoided.' It was not merely a desire to avoid a shocked response; after the T.E. Lawrence affair he was not sure how much this particular friend could be trusted to be discreet. Aldington did not want his intentions to reach journalists and commentators before the visit took place.
The peace of Sury – and to be amongst his books again – was a pleasure after the busy atmosphere of Aix. He was reminded of the kindness of his neighbours, who had started the central heating for him before he arrived and left eggs and wine for his first meal. It was also a joy to see the Kershaws again for their Easter holiday – along with their son. 'The little boy is really delightful,' he told his brother, 'not only handsome and quick, but very sensitive. At the age of two he really loves music, not just noise but music. Remarkable.' He wrote to Williamson to obtain a signed copy of Tarka the Otter for Sylvain. One sad piece of news came in June: the death of Carl Fallas, who had been virtually an invalid for the previous two and a half years. Aldington wrote immediately to Florence, sending her money, and – more productively – he also wrote to Bryher, who took it upon herself to provide continuing financial support – and affectionate correspondence – until Florence's death in 1965. Florence had never lost her own affection for Aldington, telling him in December 1958: 'I was thinking the other day of all the pleasant memories I have of you in all the years I've known you.'
The tour with Netta in May took in Orléans, Azay-le-Rideau, Brantôme, Les Eyzies, Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges, Les-Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, Nîmes and Montluçon. Catha was preparing for her examinations so the visit to Les-Saintes-Maries was a brief one. Once her examinations were over, she arrived in Sury in time to depart with her father to Paris on 16 June, where they were to obtain their Russian visas. There, at last, Aldington and MacGreevy had their reunion, their first meeting for 24 years. MacGreevy wrote subsequently:
[Richard] looked as young and at least as debonair as he had looked a quarter of a century earlier. And he was as sympathetic as ever.... It had been a happy reunion and as we said au revoir and they drove away, waving and smiling, leaving me on the pavement outside my picture gallery, I think we all hoped we should be meeting again soon.
With exquisite timing, Kershaw had also arranged for Aldington to dine with the couple whose acquaintance he had avoided for so long: the Mosleys.
On Friday, 22 June, Aldington and Catha flew to Moscow. They landed at Sheremetyevo Airport after a three-and-a-half-hour flight, to be met by Urnov and his son Dmitri along with an interpreter, journalists and photographers, and were taken to the Peking Hotel, where there were two interviews before dinner and a drive around Moscow. That week they visited the Kremlin, Tolstoy's home, Yasnaya Polyana (where they met his grandson), the Gallery of Western Art and two publishing houses. They visited Zhantieva at her home, lunched in their hotel with Alexei Surkov, the secretary of the Writers' Union, and went to lunch at the Writers' Union Club, where Urnov and Zhantieva questioned Aldington closely about his life and work. ('Tired,' he wrote in his diary, 'but hope and think I made no dangerous statements.') There was also time for gift shopping and for chatting to the large number of ordinary people who came up to him in the streets, shops and museums to talk to him about his books.
On Wednesday, 27 June, they made an overnight train journey to Leningrad and were met by V.M. Moldavsky of the Writers' Union. In a subsequent article about the visit Moldavsky recalled seeing 'a rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed, tall old man... rather proud of his new slightly crumpled suit-coat'. They were taken to the Hotel European and, after a rest and lunch, to the Museum of Russian Art and then for a drive around the sites of Leningrad. Their five-day stay included visits to the Peterhof Palace, the Summer Garden, the Bronze Horseman, the Voltaire Library – and a modern housing development. At a meeting in the Mayakovsky Writers' Home, they met four writers, including the poet Vsevolod Rozhdestvensky, and Aldington spoke to them about D.H. Lawrence and Robert Louis Stevenson. They attended a performance of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin and two performances of folk dancing. For Aldington the high points of the five days in Leningrad were his two visits to the Hermitage Museum, where he surprised Moldavsky with his knowledge of the collection. On Sunday, 1 July, he appeared on Russian television for a 20-minute interview, in which he advised the young people of the Soviet Union to value their cultural heritage and make the most of the opportunities presented to them. On the following day there was an excursion to one of the country homes for writers at Komarovo and then a visit to their guide's dacha. At midnight they boarded the train for Moscow: 'Several writers to see us off, one with flowers and all friendly, waving as we left.' Moldavsky recalled: 'Richard Aldington arose before us as the denouncer of the petty bourgeoisie of all sizes and shapes. We perceived him to be one of the most truthful of all writers and one who was closest to us.' Moldavsky was not the first observer, however, to feel that Aldington's calm exterior covered a personal wound. He guessed that he was a lonely man.
Richard Aldington broadcasting in URSS, July 1962
Back in Moscow, having slept badly on the overnight train, they had to be at the Writers' Union for a lunch hosted by the journalist and novelist Boris Polevoi: 'a one-eyed man who had fought at the Battle of Stalingrad, an entertaining and jovial Georgian who drank the better part of a bottle of vodka and a bottle of wine while he told good stories and jokes'. Later they attended a reception at the All-Union State Library of Foreign Literature, where a highlight was meeting Ivy Litvinov. The next day consisted of visits to Lenin's apartment in the Kremlin ('a puritanical writer's dwelling, incongruous in all that splendour') and the Cathedral of the Annunciation. On Thursday, 5 July, they were driven to a holiday camp of 'Pioneers' and then to the dacha of the novelist Konstantin Fedin, Chair of the Soviet Writers' Union. There, in a 'literary gathering', they met Yekaterina Peshkova and were given 'a sumptuous spread'. Aldington found Fedin, who was the same age as himself, 'amusing and well bred'.
Richard and Catherine Aldington in the Gardens of Peterhof, June 1962
As Friday, 6 July, was Catha's birthday, she was taken to see horses and to drive a Russian sulky (a low, two-wheeled carriage), while Aldington visited the Gallery of Russian Art. That evening they attended the official celebration of their visit at the Writers' Club. It was the climax of what had been throughout a hospitable and gratifying tour. 'There were at least twenty-five people present,' recorded Aldington, 'including a guitar-player and one of the best Russian tenors.' It was 'a most friendly and moving affair with pretty speeches from several people, including Surkov, who is a member of the Supreme Soviet, and Urnov'. Aldington attempted to reply, but was 'cut short by emotion'. Later, Urnov recollected that speech:
Several times in my life I have suffered from the literary fraternity, and I am accustomed to shrugging my shoulders in answer to insults and pinpricks. Here in the Soviet Union, for the first time in my life I have met with extraordinary warmth and attention. This is the happiest day of my life. I shall never forget it.
He was presented with a written address from Pavel Chuvikhov, the Director of the Publishing House of Foreign Literature, which read:
Dear and much respected Richard Aldington
The Publishing House of Foreign Literature warmly congratulate you, a remarkable writer and very dear friend, on the glorious anniversary of your 70th birthday. We are happy to have the opportunity of congratulating you here in the Soviet Union where millions of readers know you and love you. The breadth and youthfulness of your writings, their true humanity and antimilitaristic feelings, bring your books to the hearts of a very wide circle of readers, to the hearts of the whole of progressive mankind.
Your novels, Death of a Hero, The Colonel's Daughter, All Men Are Enemies, are very popular indeed among Soviet readers. We, the staff of this Publishing House, are proud that last year we published a very large edition of your collected stories under the title Farewell to Memories – short stories which had not before appeared in Russian. These stories, written like your other works, vividly, with great skill, and great courage, have had an enormous and well-deserved success.
We greatly appreciate your feelings of friendship and sincere goodwill towards our country, where readers love you and your books. We believe that our friendship and understanding will grow and strengthen.
Wishing you, our dear friend and guest, wealth, strength, long and fruitful years of life, and success to all your endeavours.
The letter was signed by the seventeen writers who were present, and Grigori Vladikin, who had published the recent editions of All Men Are Enemies and Death of a Hero, delivered a eulogy and announced the commissioning of a translation of Women Must Work. On Sunday, 8 July, Aldington's 70th birthday, they were driven to Valentin Kataev's dacha for 'an excellent lunch', during which Kataev invited him to come and study with him in the coming winter. That evening they had supper in Urnov's home, with his wife and two sons and Zhantieva.
On Tuesday, 10 July, they flew back to Paris. Kershaw wrote subsequently:
Even his letters had not prepared me for the first sight of him on his return. As he got out of the car at the cottage in Maison Sallé where we were waiting for him, he looked younger and happier than I had ever seen him in the fifteen years since we had first met. It seemed impossible that he was seventy years of age and had just completed so long a journey.
Kershaw speaks of the 'inevitable' presents, including ones for all the neighbours. The Kershaws returned to Paris a few days later and their last sight of him was as he waved them goodbye, 'handsome, unbelievably vigorous, full of life'. It had, however, been an exhausting three weeks. 'In spite of every kind consideration for my age,' he told Durrell, 'I did get tired and shall be glad to rest here.'
Catha had to return to the Midi to prepare for resitting her summer examinations. He was alone and spent the next fortnight writing to tell his friends and family about the experience and sending them the gifts he had purchased, as well as sending his friends in the Soviet Union his heartfelt thanks and signed copies of the books in which they had expressed an interest. He told Bryher (whom he had to thank for a birthday gift):
From several different sources I learned that the three most popular English novelists there are Dickens, H G Wells and Aldington (in that order), closely followed by Maugham and Priestley. They are interested, but less, in Joyce and D H Lawrence, but greatly dislike Virginia Woolf and Tom Eliot whom they consider false talents. To my grief they are very doubtful about Larry Durrell, but may come around. I tried to find out what it was in my novels is liked by what we should call 'working class readers' there, and they agreed that first it was the sincerity and profundity of the emotions, then the vividness of the writing, and then that I so much dislike 'philistines'! So there it is.
He told Durrell that he had found Russians the most cheerful and warm-hearted people he had ever met. 'The interviews as translated to me,' he told his friend, 'were scrupulously exact and the numerous photographs excellent.' 'I knew I was read there,' he continued:
but didn't know how widely, and I certainly didn't know that I was revered and loved. I was inundated with flowers and letters of good wishes – one elderly woman came a 12-hrs rail journey just to see me for ten minutes. No matter where I went the mention of my name by the interpreter brought instant attention and smiles and even hand-clapping.
He had received many gifts, the most prized of which was a folio of coloured reproductions of the Eikons.
Thanking Warman for the birthday telegram he had sent to Moscow, he asked whether his friend was coming to France soon and suggested that he might like to call in on him and see some of his Russian photographs and presents. Again, it was the reception he had received from ordinary people that he remarked on: 'Every time the interpreter mentioned my name in a shop or any other public place people instantly thronged round to shake hands and thank me for the books.' His letters to MacGreevy and to his brother were in a similar vein, the one to Tony ending: 'The Russians are really the kindliest and warmest people in the world – such a pity they have to be socialists.'
Bryher received a much more detailed and serious political reflection. He conceded that the press limitations in USSR were 'grotesque' but saw 'no gutter press or strip-tease and libel journalism'. Opera, ballet and theatre were open to everyone and 'always thronged', religion tolerated though not 'State-supported'. He had observed that clothes and food seemed dear, but books and records cheap, and that everyone had television – 'of course a great weapon of propaganda'. 'Everything... seems devoted to heavy industry,' he told Bryher:
The government believes that the old regime was overthrown because it neglected the people, used harsh police methods, persecuted writers and painters, and irritated the factory workers. So the people are daily told that they 'own' everything, the police are the most amiable and gentlest I've seen, writers are protected, paid, but severely controlled, and the factory workers watched.
He described the landscape: '[It] was melancholy even in summer, though a little cheered by beautiful silver birches and wild flowers, particularly yellow iris and wild water-lilies. From the main road the country seemed poorly cultivated, the pastures and gardens weedy, the villages dull, the country people apathetic.'
A surprise visitor arrived at Maison Sallé: his nephew Tim, who was camping in Cosne, on his way home from a holiday in Spain and the south of France. They shared 'the inevitable glass – or two – of wine', but Tim, noting how tired his uncle seemed, declined his invitation to stay for dinner. Meanwhile, his 70th birthday – and his visit to Moscow – had gone unnoticed in the British press, except in The Sunday Times where Philip Day, in an article entitled 'Richard Aldington at Seventy', noted that relations between Aldington and his native country were not of the best: 'The climate over here, one might say, does not suit him; neither the weatherwise climate – Aldington's chest has never quite thrown off the effects of gas in the First World War – nor the social and intellectual climate, against which he has been girding for most of his life.' Arguing that Aldington had usually managed to use his biographical subjects 'as a stick for beating his pet hates – selfishness and hypocrisy as exemplified in organised social life', Day commented that what Aldington had said about T.E. Lawrence 'needed saying' although 'perhaps not with such evident relish'. He concluded that Aldington entered his 70s, 'as a vigorous and active man of letters, self-contained as ever, busy with many projects', that his books and translations were appearing and reappearing in the Soviet Union and the United States and that 'he lives cheerfully and works zestfully.' It was hardly praise on the level of Pavel Chuvikhov's encomium, but, with the exception of Haley's articles, it was more positive recognition than Aldington had received from the British press for many years.
On the morning of Saturday, 27 July, he drove into the village, as usual, to collect his mail. Shortly afterwards, his neighbour, Madame Rezard saw him sitting in the garden with his head in his hands. She called two other neighbours, Maxime and Suzanne Gueneau, for help and they assisted him into the house and telephoned for a doctor. He had suffered a heart attack. They stayed with him and towards midday he died. Kershaw and Catha arrived early the following morning, followed shortly by Temple.
## Afterwords
The visit to the Soviet Union may have put more strain on Aldington's health than it could take, but it was a fitting end to his career, a triumph – and a contrast with some of the obituaries that appeared in the British press. The Manchester Guardian reviewer commented that 'the later Aldington often had a sour style' and found it typical of him that he had gone to the USSR and not Britain for his 70th birthday. He observed that Aldington's 'creative gifts' 'often seemed to work only sporadically' and that, 'like many of the writers of his generation', he had 'found the form and passion of his best work' only when trying to deal with the horrors of the First World War.
The Times published a much fuller and more insightful obituary, almost certainly written by Haley. Conceding that '[t]here were times when [Aldington's] anger betrayed him' so that he 'wrote beneath his true bent', the writer argued that 'the tendency to write him off as a discomfited railer of no consequence' was wrong, that '[h]is anger was directed at the stupidity of mankind' and that '[h]is idea of what human society might be had something fine about it'. Death of a Hero, All Men Are Enemies, Women Must Work and A Dream in the Luxembourg were praised, as was his critical writing, but The Colonel's Daughter was criticised for showing 'some of the crudity and tastelessness which was to mar some of his later work'. After Women Must Work, 'it could be said that Aldington's creative writing ceased... none of his subsequent writings – outside his biographies – fulfil[ling] the promise of his earlier work [and] some books, such as Pinorman... better forgotten'. Nevertheless, the writer concluded, there were many readers who valued his work on D.H. Lawrence, or the charm of A Dream in the Luxembourg or the way in which he had inspired them to read French literature.
David Holloway in the Daily Telegraph called Aldington a 'brilliant and bitter writer' and remarked that '[h]is talent was great but there was something missing'. 'Whether this was lost in Flanders in 1918 or was a more fundamental flaw, no man can tell,' he added. He nevertheless conceded that: 'Aldington's brilliance in so many fields of literature has been rivalled by few of his generation and is indeed rare at any time.' Anthony Curtis, in the same paper, was more enthusiastic, describing the writer as 'an English literary all-rounder of formidable genius, one of the truly independent minds of the age', and arguing that in none of the genres he attempted 'did he fail to write something brilliant and trenchant that caused many people to stand up and protest'. He was a master of biographical writing, with his 'combination of scholarship and imaginative insight'. 'If the modern "angry young man" cared to learn intellectual discipline,' concluded Curtis, 'he could not do better than to go to the works of Aldington.'
Aldington would not have been surprised to read a letter from Read to Church:
Poor Richard Aldington has gone. A sad life on the whole. He was destroyed by ressentment [sic] – he could not bear the thought of other people's success. But I liked him very much – something very open and generous in his nature. His great success in the USSR must have been an ironic consolation – he was a Tory at heart, in spite of his hatred of England.
Church's own verdict, in the final volume of his memoirs, was that Aldington was a man 'incapable of finding his way home' – 'a terrible fate'.
Rathbone, a more loyal friend, was shocked to hear of Aldington's death. She wrote to Cunard: 'For years, as you know, Richard and I had not met, not written. Therefore my sorrow may be considered foolish. But I can't somehow bear him not to be in this world.' A year later she was still writing: 'I wish he had not died. That wish is not just selfish. For his own sake I would like him to be still alive.' In the summer of 1964, freed at last, by her mother's death, from her duties as a carer, she travelled to south-west France to stay with Cunard – and then made her way north to Sury to lay flowers on Aldington's grave, before travelling on to Paris at the invitation of the Kershaws and where 'much talk of Richard went on'.
Other devoted friends made their tributes in Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, the volume compiled by Kershaw and Temple. Just two may speak for the rest. MacGreevy wrote:
Most of his values were not mine, yet as a friend I found him one of the most forbearing, most generous, most patient, most devoted and to crown all, most laughter-loving, friends I have ever had. In his personal relationships he, who could write so angrily of the collective shoddinesses that constitute what the Gospel calls 'the world', was one of the most courteous of men. He enjoyed conversation and as a conversationalist was himself not only interesting but winning. His erudition was immense but it was the erudition of the humanist not of the pedant.
Randall wrote:
I don't think that those writers – English writers, at any rate – who wrote about Richard Aldington after his lamented death could possibly have known him personally. Otherwise they would surely have emphasised his generous nature, his kindliness, his sense of humour, his deep affection, love of children and essentially tolerant, scholarly and civilised outlook which, to those who knew him well, shone through all his disillusionment and frustration.
Randall concluded:
On the whole, it seems to me, Richard had not a happy life; he was so often beset by personal problems and anxieties, and it is no mitigation to say they were sometimes brought upon him by himself [but] the picture of Richard that will always be in my mind is that of a merry, humorous, kindly man. I think that it was this Richard, Richard in a time of happiness and contentment, who was so suddenly taken away from the friends who loved him.
## Notes
### Repository Symbols
Berkeley: | Special Collections at the Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley
---|---
British Library: | Manuscripts and Archives Department, British Library
Harvard: | Special Collections, Houghton Library, Harvard University
Leeds: | Special Collections, Brotherton Library, University of Leeds
Reading: | Chatto & Windus Archives of Random House Publishers, University of Reading
Rushden: | William Heinemann Collection, Penguin Random House Archive and Library, Rushden, Northamptonshire
S.I.U.: | Special Collections Research Center at the Morris Library, University of Southern Illinois at Carbondale
TCD: | Manuscripts and Archives at the Library, Trinity College, Dublin
Texas: | Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center at the University of Texas at Austin
U.C.L.A.: | Special Collections at the Charles E. Young Research Library, University of California, Los Angeles
UOI: | Special Collections at the Library of the University of Illinois at Urbana
Victoria: | Special Collections Library at the University of Victoria
Yale: | Beineke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University
### Introduction
1. The five collections of poems were:
• Images: 1910-1915 (London: Poetry Bookshop, 1915); Images Old and New (Boston: Four Seas, 1916);
• The Love of Myrrhine and Konallis, and Other Prose Poems (Cleveland: Clerk's Press, 1917; Chicago: Pascal Covici, 1926);
• Images of War: A Book of Poems (London: C.W. Beaumont, April 1919); expanded edition (London: Allen & Unwin, December 1919);
• Images of Desire (London: Elkin Mathews, June 1919);
• Other editions used some of the material from Images of War and Images of Desire: Reverie: A Little Book of Poems for H.D. (Cleveland: Clerk's Press, 1917); War and Love (Boston: Four Seas, September 1919);
• Exile and Other Poems (London: Allen & Unwin, 1923); one poem, The Berkshire Kennet, was also published separately by the Curwen Press in 1923.
Aldington's Collected Poems were also published at the end of this period (New York: Covici, Friede, 1928; London: Allen & Unwin, 1929), perhaps an indication of his sense of the closure of his poetic career.
The three long poems were:
• A Fool i' the Forest: A Phantasmagoria (London: Allen & Unwin, 1924);
• The Eaten Heart (La Chapelle-Réanville, Eure, France: Hours Press, 1929);
• A Dream in the Luxembourg (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930); Love and the Luxembourg (New York: Covici, Friede, 1930); although these editions were not published until 1930, the poem had been written in 1928.
The anthologies were:
• Des Imagistes (New York: Boni & Liveright; London: The Poetry Bookshop, 1914);
• Some Imagist Poets: An Anthology (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1915, 1916 and 1917);
• New Paths: Verse, Prose, Pictures, 1917-1918, edited by C.W. Beaumont and M.T.H. Sadler (London: C.W. Beaumont, 1918).
2. Voltaire (London: Routledge, 1925; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1925).
The principal journals to which Aldington contributed as critic, essayist or reviewer in the immediate postwar years were: Today, Outlook, The Monthly Chapbook, The English Review, The Times Literary Supplement, The Criterion, The Nation and Athenaeum and The Spectator.
Additionally, he published essays and collections of reviews:
• Literary Studies and Reviews (London: Allen & Unwin, 1924; New York: Dial Press, 1924);
• French Studies and Reviews (London: Allen & Unwin, 1926; New York: Dial Press, 1926);
• D.H. Lawrence: An Indiscretion, University of Washington Chapbooks, no. 6 (Seattle: University of Washington Book Store, 1927);
• Remy de Gourmont: A Modern Man of Letters, University of Washington Chapbooks, no. 13 (Seattle: University of Washington Book Store, 1928).
The published translations were:
• The Poems of Anyte of Tegea, Poets' Translation Series, no. 1 (London: The Egoist Press, 1915; Cleveland: Clerk's Press, 1917);
• Latin Poems of the Renaissance, Poets' Translation Series, no. 4 (London: The Egoist Press, 1916);
• Folgóre da San Gimignano, The Garland of Months, Poets' Translation Series, no. 5 (London: The Egoist Press, 1915; Cleveland: Clerk's Press, 1917);
• Greek Songs in the Manner of Anacreon, Poets' Translation Series, Second Set, no. 1 (London: The Egoist Press, 1920);
• The Poems of Meleager of Gadara, Poets' Translation Series, Second Set, no. 6 (London: Egoist Press, 1920);
• The Poems of Anyte of Tegea, The Poems of Meleager of Gadara, Greek Songs in the Manner of Anacreon and Latin Poems of the Renaissance were also published as Medallions in Clay in 1921 (New York: A.A. Knopf) and by Chatto & Windus in 1930;
• Carlo Goldoni, The Good-Humoured Ladies: A Comedy (London: C.W. Beaumont, 1922);
• French Comedies of the XVIII Century (London: Routledge, 1923; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1923);
• Cyrano de Bergerac, Voyages to the Moon and the Sun (London: Routledge & Sons, 1923; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1923);
• Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, Dangerous Acquaintances (London: Routledge, 1924; New York: E.P Dutton, 1924);
• Pierre Custot, Sturly (London: Jonathan Cape, 1924; Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1925);
• A Book of Characters from Theophrastus (London: Routledge & Sons, 1924; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1924);
• The Fifteen Joys of Marriage, Ascribed to Antoine de la Sale, c.1388-c.1462 (London: Routledge & Sons, 1926; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1926);
• Letters of Madame de Sevigné to Her Daughter and Her Friends (London: Routledge & Sons, 1927);
• Letters of Voltaire and Frederick the Great (London: Routledge, 1927; New York: Brentano's, 1927);
• Letters of Voltaire and Madame du Deffand (London: Routledge & Sons, 1927; New York: Brentano's, 1927);
• Voltaire, Candide and Other Romances (London: Routledge & Sons, 1928; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1928);
• Julien Benda, The Great Betrayal (London: Routledge & Sons, 1928) and The Treason of the Intellectuals (New York: Crosby Gaige, 1928; London: Chatto & Windus, 1931);
• Fifty Romance Lyric Poems (New York: Crosby Gaige, 1928; London: Allan Wingate, 1928; Chatto & Windus, 1931);
• Remy de Gourmont: Selections from All His Works (New York: Covici, Friede, 1928);
• The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio (New York: Covici, Friede, 1930; London: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1930);
• Euripides, Alcestis (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930);
• Remy de Gourmont, Letters to the Amazon (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931).
Additionally, the translation of The Decameron, on which Aldington had been working throughout 1928 and 1929 was published in the United States by Covici, Friede and in Britain by Putnam's in 1930. Aurélia had been commissioned by the Aquila Press, but the company went bankrupt and Chatto & Windus published this translation in 1932. Covici, Friede would also run into financial difficulties – the Wall Street Crash came a month after the publication of Death of a Hero – and Aldington's planned Greek drama translation project was abandoned; it was left to Chatto & Windus to publish his translation of Alcestis in 1930.
3. Richard Aldington, Life for Life's Sake: A Book of Reminiscences (New York: Viking Press, 1941; London: Cassell, 1968) p. 360.
4. The six works reprinted in 1938 were: Voltaire; Death of a Hero; The Colonel's Daughter; Soft Answers; All Men Are Enemies; and Very Heaven. Snow's booklet was entitled Richard Aldington: An Appreciation.
5. C.P. Snow, Richard Aldington: An Appreciation (London: Heinemann, 1938), reproduced in Alister Kershaw and F.-J. Temple, eds, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1965) pp. 136-37.
### 1. A Sociable Life: Travel, Friendship and Patronage, 1930-1931
1. Aldington had known Davray (1873-1944) in his role as editor of the Anglo-French Review for a decade and Davray had recently translated Death of a Hero into French.
2. Aldington's new agent, Ralph Pinker, had obtained for him an offer of 80 guineas for two 2,500-word articles.
3. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 23 January 1930 (Reading).
4. Richard Aldington, All Men Are Enemies: A Romance (London: Chatto & Windus, 1933) pp. 378-79.
5. Nash's Pall Mall Magazine, vol. LXXXV, no. 447 (August 1930) pp. 50-52.
6. Thomas MacGreevy was born Thomas McGreevy, but this text uses throughout the spelling MacGreevy himself favoured in later life.
7. Samuel Beckett, Whoroscope (La Chapelle-Réanville: Hours Press, 1930), 100 signed and 200 unsigned copies. A limit of 100 lines had been imposed in the competition; Beckett's poem ran to 98.
8. Titus, a Polish-American married to the beautician Helena Rubenstein, had been resident in Paris since 1918. Between 1926 and its closure in 1932 his Black Manikin Press published a total of 25 books, including an edition of Lady Chatterley's Lover. This Quarter also ceased publication in 1932. We noted in Volume One that Dorothy Yorke worked in the Black Manikin bookshop in Paris after her separation from Aldington in 1928.
9. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 22 February 1930 (TCD).
10. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 20 September 1930 (Reading).
11. Richard Aldington to Edward Titus, 1 December 1930 (Texas).
12. This Quarter, vol. iv, no. 1 (July-September 1931).
13. The American millionaire and philanthropist Henry Hall Church and his Bavarian wife Barbara, who lived in a Le Corbusier-designed villa near Versailles, became friends of Aldington. Church supported little magazines such as Mesures, edited in Paris by Jean Paulhan, and was a collector of modern art. He translated Aldington's The Eaten Heart (Le Coeur Mangé [Paris: Commerce, 1930]). While Aldington never became close to the Churches, they remained friends with Thomas MacGreevy for the rest of their lives. Why Aldington and Church never became close friends is explained in Aldington's memoir, where Church is referred to as 'William Ernest' (Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, pp. 316-18).
14. Quoted in Miriam Benkovitz, 'Nine for Reeves: Letters from Richard Aldington,' Bulletin of the New York Public Library, vol. 69, no. 6 (June 1965).
15. Samuel Beckett, Proust (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931). The Dolphins were a short-lived series of translations, essays and short stories by important contemporary writers; the plan was to issue them in three formats: a signed, limited edition; a cheaper cloth edition; and a one-shilling paperback. The slump in the book-trade in the early 1930s put paid to the limited edition and the shilling-paperback idea was dropped on the advice of booksellers. It wasn't until 1936 that Allen Lane of Bodley Head demonstrated that there was a market for the cheap paperback book. It is worth noting here that Aldington's distressing experience with Routledge in 1925 (see Vivien Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover [Cambridge: Lutterworth Press, 2014] pp. 277-78) seems not to have held him back from getting involved in the publishing strategies of Chatto & Windus.
16. MacGreevy never completed a novel but Heinemann published a volume of his poetry in 1934. He continued to write poetry, although no more was published in his lifetime. He became a prominent art critic and was appointed Director of the National Gallery of Ireland in 1950, a post he held until 1963.
17. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 351.
18. Thomas MacGreevy, T.S. Eliot: A Study and Richard Aldington: An Englishman (both London: Chatto & Windus, 1931).
19. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 10 January 1930 (TCD).
20. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 24 November 1930, in Norman Gates, ed., Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992) p. 116.
21. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 15 September 1930 (TCD).
22. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 15 August 1934, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 136.
23. Richard Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 352.
24. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 18 March 1930 (Reading).
25. 200 signed copies and 300 additional copies (retailing at £2 and 7s 6d respectively); Cunard tells us that the only other Hours Press publication which ran to so many copies was Norman Douglas's One Day, see Nancy Cunard, These Were the Hours (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1969) p. 158.
26. Cunard, ibid., p. 160.
27. Nancy Cunard to Richard Aldington, 8 March 1931 (S.I.U.).
28. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 9 February 1931 (Texas).
29. Cunard, These Were the Hours, p. 53.
30. Ibid., p. 159.
### 2. A Sociable Life: France, 1930-1933
1. Brigit Patmore to H.D., 11 and 30 May 1930 (Yale). The American violinist Olga Rudge) had been Pound's lover since 1923 and had given birth to their daughter Mary in 1925.
2. In the 1920s and 1930s, Vanessa Bell, Duncan Grant and the Woolfs used to spend summers in Cassis, fifteen miles east of Marseilles.
3. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 August 1930 (Victoria).
4. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 30 May 1931 (Victoria).
5. Richard Aldington to Ralph Pinker, 5 May 1931 (S.I.U.). The 'artist' was the composer Charles Koechlin, whose love of the villa was such that he would be buried in its grounds on his death in 1950.
6. Richard Aldington to Bonamy Dobrée, 27 March 1933 (Leeds). Relations between Aldington and the writer and critic Dobrée, another member of the Criterion circle, had been strained since the former had fallen passionately (and unrequitedly) in love with Dobrée's wife, Valentine, in 1928; she was the inspiration for A Dream in the Luxembourg. See Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 307-313.
7. T.S. Eliot was the founding editor of The Criterion, the quarterly literary review published from October 1922 until January 1939. Aldington had acted as the journal's 'secretary and managing editor' for a period of seven months in 1923; his membership of the close-knit group of critics which Eliot had gathered around him had commenced again in April 1925 but terminated abruptly in August 1927. His friendship with Read had flourished in the context of this group. See Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 269, 275, 293, 300-301, 341.
8. Cyril Connolly, The Rock Pool (Paris: Obelisk Press, 1936; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981) p. 50. The Castel Sainte-Claire, above Hyères, was Edith Wharton's summer residence from 1927 until her death ten years later; Roy Campbell and his family lived at Martigues, west of Marseilles, from 1928 until 1933, but he and Aldington did not meet at this time; Edward Phillips Oppenheim (1866-1946) was a popular writer of crime fiction who lived for many years inland from Cagnes-sur-Mer, halfway between Antibes and Nice. Cagnes was the model for Connolly's fictional 'Trou-sur-Mer' in The Rock Pool.
9. Richard Aldington to H.D., 17 August 1931(Yale).
10. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 August 1930 (Victoria).
11. Huxley's observation that Lawrence was 'the most extraordinary and impressive human being' he had ever known (Aldous Huxley to Eugene Saxton, 8 March 1930, in Grover Smith, ed., Letters of Aldous Huxley [New York: Harper & Row, 1969]) expressed what Aldington himself believed. Both men would devote much time through the 1930s and beyond to ensuring the perpetuation of Lawrence's reputation.
12. See, for example, Huxley's Do What You Will (London: Chatto & Windus, 1929).
13. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 August 1930 (Victoria).
14. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 7 June 1930 (Reading).
15. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 354.
16. J.R. Frere, The Early Life and Family History of A.S. Frere (2009, unpublished). The author was given access to the late Jean Raulin Frere's research by Elizabeth Frere-Jones, Frere's daughter.
17. Von Arnim's novel, Love (London: Macmillan, 1925), was loosely based on her affair with Frere.
18. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 7 June 1934, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, pp. 133-34.
19. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 31 December 1934 (Victoria). We may need to treat this piece of information with caution: Frere's daughter, Elizabeth Frere-Jones, told the current writer in 2017 that her father's migraines only occurred on Christmas Day and that the family associated them with his troubled childhood.
20. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, pp. 352-53.
21. Ibid., pp. 215-16.
22. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 27 May 1931 (Reading).
23. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 13 September 1930 (TCD).
24. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 27 May 1931 (Reading).
25. Gerald Dawe, 'Nocturnes: Thomas MacGreevy and World War One', in Susan Schreibman, ed., The Life and Work of Thomas MacGreevy (London: Bloomsbury, 2013) p. 6.
26. MacGreevy, Richard Aldington: An Englishman, p. 6.
27. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 19 January and 20 May 1931 (S.I.U.).
28. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 4 August and 13 September 1930 (Reading).
29. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 28 August 1931 (Reading).
30. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 5 September 1931(Reading).
31. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 19 November 1932 (Reading).
32. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 20 November 1932 (Yale).
### 3. A Sociable Life: Italy – Further Friendships, 1930-1932
1. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 30 July 1929 (Reading).
2. See Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 15 September 1930 (Victoria). Read picked out for this criticism passages in Meditation on a German Grave and At All Costs.
3. See the correspondence from Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 30 May and 5 June 1931 and 3, 13 and 24 April 1933 (Victoria).
4. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 13 July 1933 (Victoria).
5. Life Goes On appeared in The Yale Review, vol. 33, no. 2 (December 1933), and was published in a group of 'New Poems' in The Poems of Richard Aldington (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1934).
6. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 22 and 31 December 1934 (Victoria).
7. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 25 February 1936 (Victoria).
8. Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait. This book was a collection of tributes to Aldington compiled after his death.
9. James King, The Last Modern: A Life of Herbert Read (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1990) pp. 150-51.
10. Herbert Read to Richard Church, 26 October 1943 (Texas). Richard Church was a civil servant, poet, novelist and critic. In the 1920s and 1930s, he and Read were members of Eliot's Criterion group, to which Aldington had also belonged in the 1920s.
11. Initially the artists were Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth and Ben Nicholson and the place, the Mall Studios, off Parkhill Road, Hampstead.
12. Herbert Read to Richard Church, 1 February 1965 (Texas).
13. Herbert Read, 'A Lost Generation', in The Nation and Athenaeum, 27 April 1929.
14. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 11 November 1930 (S.I.U.).
15. Brigit Patmore to Thomas MacGreevy, 12 January 1931 (TCD); Thomas MacGreevy to Charles Prentice, 15 January 1931 (Reading).
16. Orioli, a printer and bookseller, had published D.H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover. He was Norman Douglas's close companion from 1922, when Douglas settled in Italy, until shortly before his own death 20 years later. Frere would have to practise patience: it was not until January 1935 that Martin Secker sold Heinemann the rights to Lawrence's published works.
17. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 17 March 1931 (Reading).
18. Norman Douglas, Old Calabria (London: Martin Secker, 1915).
19. Richard Aldington, Pinorman: Personal Recollections of Norman Douglas, Pino Orioli and Charles Prentice (London: Heinemann, 1954) p. 89.
20. Aldington was a weekly reviewer for the Sunday Referee from 24 November 1929 until 24 April 1932, and then again from 30 April to 23 July 1933. During the earlier period, the only dates on which his reviews did not appear were: 16 February and 24 October 1930; 28 June and 2 August 1931; 10 and 17 January, and 10 April 1932.
21. Aldington, Pinorman, p. 94.
22. Sunday Referee, 27 March 1932.
23. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington (quoted in Aldington, Pinorman, pp. 91-92).
24. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 1 April 1932 (TCD).
25. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 373.
26. Giuseppe Orioli, Moving Along (London: Chatto & Windus, 1934) pp. 57 and 123. Aldington dismisses these accounts in Pinorman, pp. 100-102.
27. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 365.
28. Ibid., pp. 369-70.
29. Aldington, Pinorman, p. 62.
30. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, pp. 366 and 370.
31. Derek Patmore, 'Introduction', in Brigit Patmore, My Friends When Young (London: Heinemann, 1968) p. 29.
32. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 2 January 1931 (Reading).
33. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 6 January 1931 (TCD).
34. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 5 February 1931(Texas).
35. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 17 February 1932 (TCD); Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 15 February 1932 (Reading).
36. Mark Holloway, Norman Douglas (London: Secker & Warburg, 1976) p. 324.
37. Reginald Turner (1869-1938) was an aesthete and unsuccessful novelist. The character Algy Constable in D.H. Lawrence's Aaron's Rod is modelled on Turner. Harold Acton (1904-1994), although also a poet and novelist, was better known as a historian.
38. The meeting with Cunard predated the quarrel of January 1931. Dorothy Wilde (1895-1941) was the niece of Oscar Wilde and the lover, for some time, of Natalie Barney. The poet and translator Edward Storer (1880-1944) had been involved in the earliest experiments of Imagism and had also contributed to Aldington's Poets' Translation Series.
39. Richard Aldington to H.D., 13 December 1930 (Yale).
40. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 17 February 1932 (TCD).
41. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 6 May 1932 (Reading).
42. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 11 May 1932 (Reading).
43. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 31 July 1932 (Reading).
44. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 380.
45. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 21 September 1932 (TCD).
### 4. The Public Face: Critic and Satirist
1. Ralph Pinker ran the London end of the very successful agency founded by his father, J.B. Pinker, in 1896; his brother Eric ran the New York office. Aldington went to Pinker in 1930 after the success of Death of a Hero. In 1940 the business would collapse when both brothers faced charges of embezzling their clients' funds.
2. Stephen Steele and Heesok Chang, 'Modernism at the Margins: Richard Aldington's Letters to Douglas Goldring (1932-1946)', Modern Language Studies, vol. 35, no. 2 (Autumn 2005) pp. 22-55.
3. Book-buying would build up during the 1930s, principally because of the founding of the Book Society in 1929, which supplied members with a pre-selected newly published book to buy each month. Its influence (generally conservative) began to work both on the market (as its choices would be advertised in the press and in libraries and bookshops) and on the content of books, as the judges would see texts at the proofreading stage and advise changes to suit their readership. The early judges were Hugh Walpole, J.B. Priestley, Clemence Dane, Sylvia Lynd and George Stuart Gordon, all members of the Hampstead literary coterie that clustered round the writers and critics Robert and Sylvia Lynd. The traditionalist nature of this group was in strong contrast to the modernism of the Bloomsbury and Sitwell sets.
4. J. Richardson to Harold Raymond, 22 May 1931 (Reading).
5. W. Roy of W.H. Smith to Harold Raymond, 11 May 1931 (Reading).
6. Many stationers also operated their own subscription library service.
7. Blackwell's to Harold Raymond, 13 April 1931 (Reading).
8. Alfred Wilson to Harold Raymond, 9 April 1931(Reading).
9. In The Criterion: Cultural Politics and Periodical Networks in Inter-War Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002) pp. 83 and 142, Jason Harding, observes that the literary world of 1930s London was characterised not only by the growth of a sharp political divide between right and left but by the existence of a variety of coteries, and speaks of 'the calculatedly embattled nature of the literary marketplace' and 'the incipient tensions between aestheticism, academicism, and religious dogma, not to mention the highly complicated networks of personal loyalty and sentiment'.
10. Sunday Referee, 3 May 1931.
11. Daily Mail, 12 May 1931.
12. Daily Express, 12 May 1931.
13. The Times, 1 May 1931.
14. The Sunday Times, 3 May and 13 December 1931.
15. Daily Telegraph, 5 May 1931.
16. The Spectator, 2 May 1931.
17. Richard Aldington to Bonamy Dobrée, 23 May 1931 (Leeds).
18. John O' London's Weekly, 9 May 1931.
19. Life and Letters, June 1931.
20. Time and Tide, 30 May 1931.
21. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 5 June 1931 (Reading). Ervine's review of Death of a Hero had appeared in the Daily Express on 3 October 1929.
22. The Times Literary Supplement, 30 April 1931.
23. New Statesman and Nation, 16 May 1931.
24. Punch, 20 May 1931.
25. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 14 May 1931 (Reading).
26. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 15 and 19 May 1931 (TCD).
27. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 18 May 1931 (Reading).
28. See Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 5 June 1931 (Victoria).
29. Richard Aldington to Sydney Schiff, 26 May 1931 (British Library). Schiff, whose own novels were written under the pen-name of Stephen Hudson, and who was a translator of Proust, was a major patron of the arts in the 1920s and 1930s.
30. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 5 June 1931 (Victoria).
31. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 30 May 1931 (Reading).
32. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 5 June 1931(Victoria).
33. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 5 June 1931 (Reading). The 'Dame Gwynne episode' refers to the objection raised by Helen Gwynne-Vaughan, Controller of the WAAC in France, 1917-1918, to a comment in Death of a Hero which had implied that many of the WAAC women in France were pregnant.
34. Richard Aldington to James Reeves, 18 November 1930 (cited in Benkovitz, 'Nine for Reeves').
35. Chris Baldick, The Oxford English Literary History, Volume 10: The Modern Movement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004) p. 235.
36. Ibid., pp. 235-40.
37. See Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 29 August 1930, in which Aldington pleads his attachment to what was then the Prologue, 30 November 1930, where he begins to share Prentice's doubts, 12 December 1930, where he agrees to omit it, and 9 January 1931, in which, at Frere's suggestion, he strikes a compromise with Prentice by making it an Epilogue (Reading).
38. David Wilkinson, The Death of a Hero: The Quest for First World War Poet Richard Aldington's Berkshire Retreat (Barnsley: Pen & Sword, 2016). See especially pp. 240-52.
39. Jessie Capper to H.D., 20 April 1937 (Yale).
40. Richard Aldington, The Colonel's Daughter (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931) p. 346.
41. Baldick, The Modern Movement, p. 248.
42. Roy Campbell, The Georgiad (London: Boriswood, 1931).
43. Percy Wyndham Lewis, The Apes of God (London: Arthur Press, 1930). The artist and writer Dick Wyndham (1896-1948) had been one of Lewis's pupils and had subsequently given him financial support, as had the artist Edward Wadsworth (1889-1949). Richard Aldington to Sydney Schiff, 11 February 1932 (British Library).
44. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 August 1930 (Victoria).
45. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 15 September 1930 (Victoria).
46. Sunday Referee, 22 June 1930.
47. Sunday Referee, 16 November 1930; Osbert Sitwell, Dumb Animals and Other Stories (London: Duckworth, 1930).
48. As usual with Aldington's titles, we have a quotation: the allusion is to Proverbs 15:1, 'A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.' Whether the stories are indeed 'soft answers' rather than 'grievous words' is for the reader to decide.
49. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 13 October 1930 (Reading).
50. There were, in fact, two 'mystery' babies: the daughter born to Olga Rudge in July 1925 and the son born to Dorothy Pound in September 1926. Mary Rudge was brought up by a peasant family in Gais in the Italian Tyrol while Omar Pound was placed in a nursery in London.
51. Richard Aldington, Soft Answers (London: Chatto & Windus, 1932) p. 133.
52. Richard Aldington to T.S. Eliot, 18 July 1919 (Harvard).
53. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 20 February 1931 (S.I.U.).
54. Richard Aldington to Sydney Schiff, 9 December 1931 (British Library).
55. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 February 1932 (Yale).
56. Richard Aldington to John Atkins, 5 June 1957 (Texas).
57. Sunday Referee, 27 April 1932.
58. The Sunday Times, 17 April 1932.
59. The Times Literary Supplement, 21 April 1932.
60. The Times, 15 April 1932. The critic Orlando Cyprian (Orlo) Williams (1883-1967) was Clerk to the House of Commons and an authority on Italian literature and culture.
### 5. The Public Face: Elegist and Romantic
1. The collection was to have been entitled Paths of Glory but Aldington changed it on discovering that there was an American book with that title: a 1915 non-fiction account by Irvin S. Cobb of his experiences as a journalist in the First World War (not the Humphrey Cobb novel of the same title [adapted for the screen by Stanley Kubrick in 1957] which was not published until 1935). In selecting the new title, he directed Pinker and Prentice to the Tennyson lines, 'Not once or twice in our fair island story/ The path of duty was the road to glory', lines he had already referenced for similarly ironic purposes in Death of a Hero: Richard Aldington to Ralph Pinker, 4 March 1930; Aldington, Death of a Hero (London: Chatto & Windus, 1929; New York: Penguin Books, 2013) p. 216.
2. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 13 August 1929 (Reading).
3. The stories that appeared in Nash's Pall Mall Magazine were: 'Meditation on a German Grave' (January 1930); 'Victory' (February); 'Killed in Action' (March); 'Booby Trap' (April); and 'Of Unsound Mind' (appearing under the title 'And the Verdict Was') (September). Elkin Mathews published 'Deserter' and 'Lads of the Village', in a limited, signed edition, and Frere chose 'At All Costs' for Heinemann.
4. Covici, Friede had been due to publish Aldington's translation of Alcestis, which therefore did not appear in the US. Doubleday offered Aldington very attractive terms: an income of £550 for four years and 15% royalties on all fiction, 10% on other works. Covici, Friede pulled round their fortunes when they signed John Steinbeck in 1934; he went with Covici to Viking in 1938. Aldington would leave Doubleday for Viking in 1939.
5. Aldington, 'Meditation on a German Grave', in Roads to Glory (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930) p. 17.
6. 'Farewell to Memories', in ibid., p. 264.
7. 'Sacrifice Post', in ibid., pp. 171-72.
8. 'Victory', in ibid., p. 45; see also Cumberland in the closing section of 'Meditation on a German Grave', in ibid., pp. 30-32; Davison in 'Sacrifice Post' comes to similar conclusions but does not live to fulfil his aim.
9. 'Farewell to Memories', in ibid., p. 258.
10. 'Victory', in ibid., p. 39.
11. 'Meditation on a German Grave', in ibid., p. 5.
12. 'Deserter', in ibid., p. 77.
13. 'The Case of Lieutenant Hall', in ibid., p. 245.
14. 'Sacrifice Post', in ibid., p. 179.
15. 'The Case of Lieutenant Hall', in ibid., p. 253. Aldington told Herbert Read, 15 September 1930, that the Coroner's summing up at Hall's inquest, with which the story ends, gave him more satisfaction than anything else in the book.
16. 'Farewell to Memories', in Aldington, Roads to Glory, p. 278.
17. MacGreevy, Richard Aldington: An Englishman, p. 64.
18. News Chronicle, 22 October 1930.
19. The Times Literary Supplement, 11 September 1930.
20. New Statesman, 27 September 1930.
21. Aldington, All Men Are Enemies, pp. v-vi.
22. Everyman, 18 March 1933.
23. Aldington, All Men Are Enemies, p. 26.
24. Ibid., p. 495.
25. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 383.
26. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 17 September 1932 (Texas).
27. The current writer attempts to show in Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 18-35, that Aldington's own family and upbringing more closely resembled those of George Winterbourne in Death of a Hero (see pp. 28-90); see also Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, pp. 37-63.
28. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 25 November 1932, then Eunice Gluckman, 10 September 1960, 14 November 1960, 27 April 1961, 7 August 1961.
29. Aldington, All Men Are Enemies, p. 84.
30. Ibid., pp. 276-77.
31. Ibid., pp. 280, 295.
32. Elizabeth Vandiver to Vivien Whelpton, 18 May 2018.
33. Aldington, All Men Are Enemies, pp. 157, 434 and 495.
34. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 9 September 1932 (S.I.U.).
35. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 27 April 1932 (TCD).
36. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 3 July 1932 (Reading).
37. Aldington, All Men Are Enemies, p. 309.
38. Daily Mail, 2 March 1933.
39. The Times Literary Supplement, 2 March 1933.
40. New Statesman and Nation, 15 April 1933.
41. Nelson Doubleday to Richard Aldington, 6 October 1932 (S.I.U.).
42. Alec Waugh, My Brother Evelyn and Other Profiles (London: Cassell & Co., 1967) p. 72.
43. See Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 20 November 1932 (Yale).
44. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 20 December 1932 (S.I.U.).
45. See Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 4, 10, 19, 22, 31 December 1932 (Reading) and Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 5 and 20 December 1932 (S.I.U.).
46. Richard Aldington to Sydney Schiff, 17 January 1933 (British Library).
47. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 11 April 1933 (S.I.U.); 'the others' refers to Harold Raymond and Ian Parsons, Prentice's fellow directors.
48. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 9 April 1933 (S.I.U.).
### 6. The Social Life Fragments, 1932-1936
1. Richard Aldington to Ralph Pinker, 25 November 1932 (S.I.U.).
2. Richard Aldington to Charles Prentice, 9 October 1933 (Reading); 'he lappitup like mad' is a humorous imitation of Orioli's dialect, a joke that Prentice would share.
3. Richard Aldington to Ralph Pinker, 20 November 1933 (S.I.U.).
4. Richard Aldington to Giuseppe Orioli, 9 May 1934 (Texas); Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 388.
5. Ibid., pp. 392-93. The couple in the other car would recover from their injuries, the driver served a short term of imprisonment for dangerous driving and his Austrian insurance company paid Aldington substantial compensation.
6. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 397.
7. Ibid., p. 398.
8. Ibid.
9. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 31 January 1935 (TCD).
10. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 406.
11. Aldington, Artifex: Sketches and Ideas (London: Chatto & Windus, 1935) p. 41.
12. Ibid., p. 48.
13. Aldington, D.H. Lawrence: A Complete List of His Works, Together with a Critical Appreciation (London: Heinemann, 1935). This essay would also be included in Artifex.
14. Richard Aldington to Richard Church, 11 May 1935 (Texas).
15. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 11 May 1935, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 140.
16. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 30 May, 7, 10 and 30 June 1935 (Reading).
17. Richard Aldington to Douglas Goldring, 11 July 1935, in Steele and Chang, 'Modernism at the Margins', Modern Language Studies vol. 1, no. 2 (Fall, 2005) pp. 45-6.
18. Richard Aldington to Richard Church, 27 June 1935 (Texas).
19. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 6 August 1935 (TCD).
20. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 17 July 1935 (Reading).
21. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 7 September 1935 (Reading).
22. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 23 September 1935 (S.I.U.).
23. Brigit Patmore to Derek Patmore, 4 July 1936, in Derek Patmore, 'Introduction', in Brigit Patmore, My Friends When Young, p. 37.
24. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 20 April 1936 (Reading).
25. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 386.
26. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 18 September 1936 (S.I.U.). Aldington and Eric Warman had met in London in 1932, when Warman was 28 and Aldington 40 years old. Warman went on to be a very successful publisher and a lifelong friend. He wrote to Aldington and Patmore in the early days of the friendship: 'I have never known two people so completely human and so understanding of how life should be lived', 12 May 1934 (S.I.U.).
27. Richard Aldington to Ian Parsons, 5 September 1936 (Rushden).
28. Malcolm Johnson to Richard Aldington, 17 September 1936 (Reading).
### 7. The Public Face: Reviewer, Philosopher and Essayist
1. Sunday Referee, 30 April 1933.
2. Ibid., 15 June 1930.
3. Ibid., 25 May 1930.
4. Ibid., 23 February 1930.
5. Ibid., 6 December 1931.
6. Ibid., 15 December 1929 and 25 May 1930. Of Brave New World, however, Aldington was critical. He told Prentice in a letter dated 22 January 1932 (Reading) that he would not review it, but he must have felt on reflection that this was an evasion of responsibility. In the event he castigated it for its 'squeamish, squirming contempt'.
7. Sunday Referee, 14 September 1930.
8. Ibid., 5 April 1931.
9. Ibid., 4 October 1931.
10. Ibid., 21 June 1931.
11. Ibid., 7 April 1930.
12. Ibid., 9 November 1930. The three books under review were: Vernon Bartlett, No Man's Land (London: G. Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1930), Coningsby William Dawson, The Test of Scarlet (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1930) and Ronald Gurner, Pass Guard at Ypres (London: J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd, 1930).
13. Sunday Referee, 2 March 1930; Ex-Private X (Alfred McClelland Burrage), War is War (London: Victor Gollancz, 1930).
14. Ibid., 4 May 1930. 'Honour's Easy' appeared in a collection of Montague's short stories entitled Fiery Particles (London: Chatto & Windus, 1923).
15. Sunday Referee, 8 December 1929, 10 August 1930.
16. Ibid., 25 June 1933; Paul Alverdes, Changed Men (London: Martin Secker, 1933).
17. Ibid., 31 May 1931; Erich Remarque, The Road Back (London: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1931).
18. Ibid., 20 April 1930.
19. Ibid., 14 February 1932; Pollard's Memoirs of a V.C. (Hutchinson) and Crozier's Five Years Hard (Jonathan Cape) were both published in London in 1932.
20. This poem first appeared in the 1933 Chatto & Windus edition of The Eaten Heart.
21. Sunday Referee, 14 May 1933.
22. Ibid., 3 January 1932. W.K. Rose was the editor of the Routledge Republic of Letters imprint under which Aldington's Voltaire was published. For the 1925 controversy surrounding this imprint (which involved both Aldington and Eliot) see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 277-278.
23. Sunday Referee, 27 December 1931; Ezra Pound, How to Read (London: Desmond Harmsworth, 1931).
24. Aldington had already published one literary biography, his Voltaire in 1925.
25. Sunday Referee, 2 November 1930; Carswell's Life of Robert Burns was published in London by Chatto & Windus in 1930.
26. Sunday Referee, 21 December 1930 and 22 October 1931. Muir's John Knox: Portrait of a Calvinist was published by Jonathan Cape in 1930 and Carr's Dostoevsky, 1821-1881: A New Biography by George Allen & Unwin in 1931.
27. Evening Standard, 2 February 1933. West's St Augustine was published by Davies Ltd in 1933.
28. Sunday Referee, 26 August, 2 and 9 September 1934.
29. Once again, the title is a quotation: this time from Charles Kingsley's 1851 tragic ballad 'The Three Fishers':
Men must work and women must weep
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep.
30. Richard Aldington, Women Must Work: A Novel (London: Chatto & Windus, 1934) p. 25.
31. Ibid., p. 142.
32. Ibid., p. 380.
33. Sunday Referee, 30 September 1934.
34. The Times Literary Supplement, 20 September 1934.
35. The Times, 21 September and The Observer and The Sunday Times, 23 September 1934.
36. G. Eliot Smith, Human History (London: Jonathan Cape, 1930, 1934) pp. 25-34.
37. Aldington, Death of a Hero, p. 335.
38. Apocalypse was edited by Aldington and published in Florence by Orioli in 1931 and in London (with an introduction by Aldington) by Martin Secker the following year. Last Poems was edited by Aldington and Orioli and published by Orioli in Florence in 1932 and, with an introduction by Aldington, by Secker in London in 1933.
39. D.H. Lawrence, Apocalypse, p. 307. Aldington not only quoted this passage in his introduction to the work, but would use it to close his biography of Lawrence, Portrait of a Genius, But... (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1949; London: Heinemann, 1950) p. 354.
40. D.H. Lawrence, Phoenix: The Posthumous Papers (New York: Penguin Books, 1972) p. 147.
41. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 11 August 1935 (TCD).
42. The Spectator, 31 May 1935.
43. Richard Aldington, ed., The Spirit of Place: An Anthology Compiled from the Prose of D.H. Lawrence (London: Heinemann, 1935).
44. Lawrence had also been an earlier subject: D.H. Lawrence: An Indiscretion had been published by Glenn Hughes as a University of Washington Chapbook (no. 6) (Seattle: University of Washington Book Store, 1927) and re-issued by Chatto & Windus in 1930.
45. Aldington, Artifex, pp. 10, 16.
46. Ibid., pp. 27-28.
47. Ibid., p. 48.
48. Ibid., p. 95.
49. Ibid., pp. 158-59.
50. Ibid., pp. 185-91.
51. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 18 September 1936 (S.I.U.).
### 8. The Private Life: Leading a Double Life, 1930-1936
1. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 10 February 1931 (S.I.U.); 'the two Florentine members' refers to Douglas and Orioli, 'members' of the 'Canterbury Literary Society' – see p. 29 above.
2. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 7 November 1932 (S.I.U.).
3. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 30 March 1930 (Texas).
4. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 'Tuesday [1 April] 1930' (Texas).
5. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 5 February 1931 (Texas).
6. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 15 February 1931 (Texas).
7. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 18 September 1932 (Texas).
8. Brigit Patmore to Thomas MacGreevy, 28 November 1930 (TCD).
9. Richard Aldington to Derek Patmore, 8 March 1931(Texas).
10. Douglas and Orioli never did visit Aldington on the Riviera.
11. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 6 February 1931 (TCD).
12. Thomas MacGreevy to Charles Prentice, 29 July 1931 (Reading).
13. Richard Aldington to Derek Patmore, 15 June 1933 (Texas).
14. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 6 February 1931 (TCD). Orioli had recently been in London with Frieda Lawrence, discussing the publication of Lawrence's work with Martin Secker. For a more detailed account of Aldington's homophobia and its impact on his relationship with Derek Patmore, see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 369-370.
15. Strenuous and continued attempts on Aldington's part to get the play published or performed – including his first contact with Crosby Gaige for four years – proved unsuccessful, until 1936, when it was published by Doubleday, Doran in New York and G.P. Putnam's Sons in London; it was never performed.
16. Derek Patmore, 'Introduction', in Brigit Patmore, My Friends When Young, p. 26.
17. Richard Aldington to Richard Church, 9 February 1933 (Texas).
18. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 29 December 1934 (Reading).
19. Thomas MacGreevy to Charles Prentice, 29 July 1931 (Reading).
20. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy (undated), probably end November 1931 (TCD).
21. Richard Aldington to H.D., 25 May and 26 August 1929 (Yale).
22. H.D. to Glenn Hughes (undated), probably early May 1929 (Yale); H.D. to George Plank, 30 May 1929 (Yale); H.D. to John Cournos, 3 July 1929 (Yale).
23. Richard Aldington to H.D., 17 August 1931(Yale).
24. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 February 1932 (Yale).
25. For an account of the relationship between D.H. Lawrence and H.D., see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 109-110, 133-134, 146, 158-161, 171-172, 348.
26. Richard Aldington to H.D. (undated), May 1931 (Yale).
27. Medallions in Clay, bringing together all Aldington's translations (Anyte of Tegea, Meleager of Gadara, the Anacreontea, Latin Poets of the Renaissance) had first been published in New York by A.A. Knopf in 1921; Chatto brought out their edition in 1930.
28. Richard Aldington to H.D., 5 June 1931 (Yale).
29. Richard Aldington to H.D., 23 February 1930 (Yale).
30. Richard Aldington to H.D., 10 January 1930 (Yale).
31. Caroline Zilboorg, Richard Aldington and H.D.: Their Lives in Letters, 1918-1961 (Manchester University Press, 2003) p. 232.
32. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore (undated), probably 13 May 1929, and 14 May 1929 (Texas). For a discussion of the state of the relationship between H.D. and Aldington after their meetings in Paris in 1929, and of Patmore's response to it, see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 347-351.
33. Brigit Patmore to H.D., 11 May 1930 (Yale).
34. Brigit Patmore to H.D., 21 July 1930 (Yale).
35. Richard Aldington to H.D., 13 December 1930 (Yale).
36. For the correspondence relating to this incident, see: Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 6, 12, 19 and 20 February 1931 (Texas); Richard Aldington to H.D., 12 and 24 February 1931 (Yale); Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 6, 8 and 17 February 1931 (TCD); and Charles Prentice to Thomas MacGreevy, 18 February 1931 (TCD).
37. Richard Aldington to H.D., 17 March 1931 (Yale).
38. Richard Aldington to Derek Patmore, 9 March 1931 (Texas).
39. Zilboorg, Richard Aldington and H.D., p. 227.
40. Richard Aldington to H.D., 5 June, 17 and 21 August 1931 (Yale).
41. H.D. to Charles Prentice, 2 November 1931 (Reading).
42. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 February 1932 (Yale).
43. Their correspondence resumed in 1955, when Black wrote to Aldington after reading Lawrence of Arabia, and continued, with some intermissions, until 1962. Black married the South African poet Vincent Swart in 1939, but they were divorced in 1941; she subsequently remarried and became Eunice Gluckman, giving birth to a daughter in 1948.
44. Aldington's first three lovers were Patmore, H.D. and Florence Fallas.
45. Richard Aldington to Marjorie Pollard, 2 and 16 April, 3, 12 and 13 May, 15 August and 27 November 1933 (S.I.U.). Pollard married the journalist and Catholic commentator John Leonard Beevers in June 1934.
46. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 24 June and 3 July 1932 (Yale).
47. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 23 July 1932 (Yale).
48. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 18 and 20 November 1932 (Yale).
49. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 25 November 1932 (Yale).
50. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 17 January 1933 (Yale).
51. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 28 January 1933 (Texas).
52. Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 15 August 1933 (Yale).
53. Unpublished conversation between David Wilkinson and Eunice Gluckman, 30 December 1982.
54. See Aldington, Death of a Hero, pp. 75-76 and 83, and All Men Are Enemies, pp. 9-10, 13-14 and 31-37.
55. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 10 September and 14 November 1960 (Yale).
56. See Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 28-31 and 35.
57. Aldington, Death of a Hero, p. 6; for Ursula Bloom's account, in Holiday Mood (London: Hutchinson, 1934), see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 28-29.
58. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 14 November 1960.
59. Unpublished interview between Dorothy Yorke and Walter and Lilian Lowenfels, 1964 (S.I.U.).
60. Sunday Referee, 6 September 1931.
61. Irene Rathbone, Was There a Summer? (London: Constable & Co. Ltd, 1943).
62. It was Was There a Summer? that brought Cunard and Rathbone together. Having read the poem on its publication in 1943, Cunard approached Rathbone at a PEN Club dinner in London to ask her to contribute to the anthology she was compiling in support of the French resistance. They became close friends. Rathbone's correspondence with Louise Morgan Theis began in response to the latter's critical reviews of her novels; they did not meet in person until 1952.
63. Irene Rathbone to Richard Aldington, 4 May 1931 (Reading).
64. Irene Rathbone, October (London: Dent & Sons, 1934) p. 31.
65. Irene Rathbone, They Call It Peace (London: Dent & Sons, 1936) p. 543. The novel was dedicated to Aldington. For a detailed discussion of Rathbone's novels and their connections with her personal life, see Caroline Zilboorg, 'Irene Rathbone: The Great War and Its Aftermath', in Patrick Quinn, ed., Recharting the Thirties (London: Associated University Presses, 1996) pp. 64-81.
66. The current writer learned this through email exchanges with Lynn Knight in 2016 and a telephone conversation with Nicholas Utechin in 2017.
67. Irene Rathbone to Nancy Cunard, 27 September 1953 (Texas).
### 9. The Private Life: Meltdown, 1936-1937
1. Philip Snow, Stranger and Brother: A Portrait of C.P. Snow (London: Macmillan, 1982) p. 49.
2. Snow's Rede Lecture, 'The Two Cultures', was delivered on 7 May 1959.
3. See Encounter vol. 1, no. 9 (December 1938).
4. 'Beachcomber' was (from 1924-1975) the humourist, J.B. Morton.
5. To-Day, vol. 6, no. 32 (October 1919) p. 64.
6. William Wordsworth, The Prelude, lines 692-93.
7. Richard Aldington, Very Heaven (London: Heinemann, 1937) pp. 367 and 376.
8. Ibid., pp. 122 and 322.
9. Richard Aldington to F.S. Flint, 3 May 1921, in Michael Copp, ed., Imagist Dialogues: Letters Between Aldington, Flint and Others (Cambridge: Lutterworth Press, 2009).
10. Aldington, Very Heaven, p. 73.
11. See Richard Aldington to Eunice Black, 7 April 1936 (Yale), and Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 17 July and 21 August 1936 (Yale). The plan to visit Japan may have been a tentative arrangement with the Glovers. With Hal much recovered since his return to England in July 1935, the couple travelled extensively through Europe and to Japan and the east coast of Africa during 1936 and 1937.
12. Undated entry (circa 1938) in a notebook in the Brigit Patmore archive at Texas.
13. Ralph Pinker to Alexander Frere and Harold Raymond, 1 December 1936 (Reading).
14. Alexander Frere to Harold Raymond, 12 January 1937 (Reading).
15. Harold Raymond to Ralph Pinker, 13 November 1936 (Reading).
16. Harold Raymond to Ralph Pinker, 10 November 1936 (Reading).
17. Harold Raymond to Richard Aldington, 9 November 1935 (S.I.U.).
18. Harold Raymond to Richard Aldington, 20 December 1935 (S.I.U.).
19. Richard Aldington to Harold Raymond, 16 January 1936 (Reading).
20. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 13 July 1948 (S.I.U.).
21. Richard Aldington to H.D., 15 January 1937 (Yale).
22. H.D. to Jessie Capper, 1 February 1937 (Yale).
23. Richard Aldington to Brigit Patmore, 30 March 1930 (Texas). See page 81 above.
24. Richard Aldington to Alexander and Patricia Frere (undated), probably 5 December 1936, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 144.
25. Ibid.
26. Richard Aldington to H.D., 15 January 1937 (Yale).
27. Ibid.
28. Netta Patmore to Richard Aldington (undated) (S.I.U.).
29. Richard Aldington to Alexander and Patricia Frere, 21 December 1936, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, pp. 145-47.
30. Ellen Doubleday to Brigit Patmore, 30 January 1937 (Texas).
31. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 2 January 1937 (S.I.U.).
32. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 7 January 1937 (S.I.U.).
33. Netta Patmore to Richard Aldington, 9, 14 and 15 January 1937 (S.I.U.).
34. Brigit Patmore to Eric and Violet Warman, 12 January 1937 (S.I.U.).
35. Richard Aldington to Alexander and Pat Frere, 20 January 1937, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, pp. 147-49.
36. Richard Aldington to H.D., 15 January 1937 (Yale). See Aldington, All Men Are Enemies, p. 495.
37. H.D. to George Plank, 17 January 1937 (Yale).
38. Bryher to H.D., 3 February 1937 (Yale).
39. Richard Aldington to Giuseppe Orioli, 26 January 1937 (S.I.U.). Aldington did not meet up with Prentice in Florence, the latter having been recalled to Scotland because of the death of his father.
40. Unpublished notebook of Brigit Patmore dating from 1938 (Texas).
41. Brigit Patmore to H.G. Wells, 28 January 1937 (UOI).
42. Derek Patmore, 'Introduction', in Brigit Patmore, When We Were Young, p. 38.
43. Ibid., pp. 41-42.
44. Patmore was not, of course, a widow; she was still married to Deighton Patmore.
45. Alec Waugh, My Brother Evelyn, pp. 65-67.
46. See Richard Aldington, The Crystal World (London: Heinemann, 1937).
47. Derek Patmore, in Brigit Patmore, My Friends When Young, p. 38. For the circumstances which led to this, see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, p. 55.
48. Jean Warman was born in 1932, Elizabeth Frere (named after Elizabeth von Arnim) in 1937.
49. Brigit Patmore to Louise Morgan Theis, 30 June 1938 (Yale).
50. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 27 April 1961 (Yale).
### 10. Divorce, 1937-1938.
1. H.D. to Jessie Capper, 1 February 1937 (Yale).
2. Untitled and undated account by H.D. (Yale); this appears to be an early draft of her statement.
3. Undated notes by H.D. addressed to Bryher (Yale).
4. H.D. to Jessie Capper, 1 February 1937 (Yale).
5. Barbara Guest, Herself Defined: The Poet H.D. and Her World (London: Collins, 1985).
6. H.D. to George Plank, 18 June 1938.
### 11. A Crystal World? 1937-1939
1. Brigit Patmore to Eric and Violet Warman, 4 February 1937 (S.I.U.).
2. The Times, 2 April 1937; The Times Literary Supplement, 13 March 1937; The Sunday Times, 14 March 1937.
3. Daily Telegraph, 16 March 1937.
4. Daily Mail, 18 March 1937.
5. Poetry, June 1938.
6. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 11 August 1937 (Rushden).
7. Richard Aldington to Giuseppe Orioli, 17 July 1937 (Texas).
8. Richard Aldington, Seven Against Reeves: A Comedy-Farce (London: Heinemann, 1938; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1938) pp. 94-95.
9. The Times Literary Supplement, 26 February 1938; The Times, 4 March 1938; The Sunday Times, 20 February 1938.
10. Charles Seddon Evans to Richard Aldington, 26 August 1937 (Rushden).
11. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 18 August 1937, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 151.
12. See Richard Aldington to Giuseppe Orioli, 4 February 1938 (S.I.U.), and 9 February and 12 December 1938 (Texas).
13. Their address was 22 Boulevard de Chamblandes, Pully.
14. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 20 May 1938 (S.I.U.).
15. C.P. Snow, Richard Aldington: An Appreciation (London: Heinemann, 1938). The re-issued Aldington works were: Death of a Hero, The Colonel's Daughter, All Men Are Enemies, Very Heaven, Voltaire and Soft Answers.
16. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 20 May 1938 (S.I.U.).
17. Thomas MacGreevy to Richard Aldington, 21 September 1958 (S.I.U.). MacGreevy had only re-established contact with Aldington (after a silence of nearly 20 years) that summer.
18. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 9 November 1938 (S.I.U.).
19. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 16 November 1938 (Yale).
20. Leonard Bacon to Richard Aldington, 30 November and 23 December 1938 (Yale).
21. Aldington told Bacon on 2 January 1939 that this inheritance amounted to $2,500. (Yale).
### 12. The New World – Again, 1939-1942
1. The Columbia lectures were on: Housman; Yeats; Lawrence and H.D.; Osbert and Sacheverell Sitwell; and Eliot and Pound. Aldington's Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot: A Lecture and A.E. Housman and W.B. Yeats: Two Lectures were published in Hurst, Berkshire by the Peacocks Press in 1954 and 1955, respectively. The Philadelphia lecture was on Yeats.
2. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 7 April 1939 (S.I.U.).
3. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 5 June 1939 (S.I.U.).
4. James Whitall (1889-1954) was an American author and translator who spent fourteen years in England, working for publishing houses.
5. Richard Aldington, 'Norman Douglas and Calabria', Atlantic Monthly, CLXIII (June 1939) pp. 757-60; 'D.H. Lawrence: Ten Years After', Saturday Review of Literature, 24 June 1939, pp. 3-4; 'Des Imagistes', Saturday Review of Literature, 16 March 1940, pp. 3-4; 'Percy Bysshe Shelley', Saturday Review of Literature, 7 December 1940, p. 7; 'Going Native', Esquire, February 1940, pp. 56 and 100; 'Errant Knight of Capri', Esquire, December 1941, pp. 74 and 230-31.
6. Richard Aldington, W. Somerset Maugham: An Appreciation (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1939).
7. Leonard Bacon, Semi-Centennial: Some of the Life and Part of the Opinions (New York: Harper Brothers, 1939).
8. These appeared in the September, October, November and December 1940 issues of the journal.
9. Richard Aldington to Alvin Manuel, 3 May 1940 (U.C.L.A.).
10. Richard Aldington to H.D., 20 July 1939 (Yale).
11. Richard Aldington to H.D., 9 August 1939 (Yale).
12. Richard Aldington to H.D., 20 July and 9 August 1939 (Yale).
13. Quoted in A. David Moody, Ezra Pound: Poet: A Portrait of the Man and His Work: Volume II: The Epic Years 1921-1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014) p. 301.
14. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 5 September 1939 (S.I.U.).
15. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 26 September 1939 (Yale). In New York the Aldington apartment was number 5E at 620 West 115th Street.
16. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 26 September 1939 (S.I.U.).
17. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 13 October 1939 (S.I.U.).
18. Richard Aldington to H.D., 29 November 1939 (Yale).
19. Ibid.
20. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 9 May 1940 (S.I.U.).
21. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 12 August 1942.
22. This criticism began during the war itself: perhaps the most explicit literary condemnation was Evelyn Waugh's 1943 portrait of Auden and Isherwood as Parsnip and Pimpernel in Put Out More Flags (London: Penguin Books, 1943).
23. Richard Aldington, 'The Horn of Roland' (undated) (S.I.U.).
24. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 5 June 1940 (S.I.U.).
25. See letters from Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 15 June, 15 August, 10 September, 11 November 1940 (S.I.U.).
26. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 11 July 1940 (S.I.U.).
27. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 23 August 1940 (S.I.U.).
28. The family stayed in the Dupont Circle Apartments on Connecticut Avenue.
29. Richard Aldington to H.D., 30 April 1941(Yale).
30. Richard Aldington to Violet Schiff, 7 February 1949 (British Library). Sydney Schiff had died in October 1944.
31. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 8 November and 13 December 1940 (S.I.U.).
32. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 11 April 1941 (S.I.U.).
33. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 5 June 1940 (S.I.U.).
34. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 11 March 1941 (S.I.U.).
35. Richard Aldington to H.D., 30 April 1941 (Yale). This was the first exchange of letters between Aldington and H.D. for nearly eighteen months and his letter does suggest that there may have been correspondence in the intervening period that never reached its destination, a common occurrence during the war.
36. Catherine Aldington, 'Richard Aldington: Souvenir de Mon Père', 1984, in D. Kempton and H.R. Stoneback, eds, Locations and Dislocations: Proceedings of the Fourth International Richard Aldington Conference (Les-Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, France, and New Palz, NY: Gregau Press and International Richard Aldington Society, 2008).
37. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 14 June 1941, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 182. Frere now had two children, Richard Tobias having been born in 1938.
38. Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1937).
39. Richard Aldington, 'Notes in New Mexico', unpublished essay (S.I.U.).
40. D.H. Lawrence, 'New Mexico', in Phoenix: The Posthumous Papers (New York: Penguin Books, 1972) pp. 142-43.
41. Richard Aldington to Frieda Lawrence, 1 August 1941 (S.I.U.).
42. Confusingly, Aldington's biography of Wellington was published in the US (by Viking in 1943) under the title The Duke, but in the UK (by Heinemann in 1946) as Wellington. This was due to the fact that Philip Guedalla's 1931 biography had appeared in the UK as The Duke (Hodder & Stoughton, 1931) and in the US as Wellington (Harper & Brothers, 1931).
43. Richard Aldington, Wellington: Being an Account of the Life & Achievements of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington (London: Heinemann, 1946) p. 4.
44. Ibid., pp. 8-9.
45. Ibid., p. 240.
46. Ibid., p. 8.
47. Ibid., p. 242.
48. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 26 May 1942 (Yale).
49. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 4 July 1942 (Yale).
50. Richard Aldington to Marshall Best, 10 July 1942 (Viking).
51. Richard Aldington, 'Notes in Florida', unpublished essay (S.I.U.).
52. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 2 March 1942 (Yale).
53. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 19 October 1941 (S.I.U.). An indictment for treason would be issued against Pound in July 1943 on account of his pro-Fascist broadcasts from Italy.
54. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 6 August 1942 (Yale).
55. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 6 August 1942 (S.I.U.).
### 13. A New Life – Hollywood, 1942-1946
1. Richard Aldington to Alvin Manuel, 26 July 1942 (U.C.L.A.).
2. Richard Aldington to Bertram Eskell, 29 December 1942 (private collection of Simon Hewett).
3. W. Somerset Maugham, The Hour Before the Dawn (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1942). The film would be made in 1944, with a different writer, directed by Frank Tuttle and starring Veronica Lake.
4. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 30 December 1942 (S.I.U.).
5. Richard Aldington to Bertram Eskell, 29 December 1942 (private collection of Simon Hewett).
6. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 1 January 1943 (Yale).
7. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 15 January 1943 (S.I.U.).
8. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 10 February 1943 (S.I.U.).
9. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 14 April 1943 (S.I.U.); Richard Aldington to Bertram Eskell, 29 December 1942 (private collection of Simon Hewett).
10. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 12 June 1943 (Yale).
11. Richard Aldington to Alvin Manuel, 7 July 1943 (U.C.L.A.).
12. The Chicago Daily News article, 'Liberty Is Won for a Nation by Courage Against Fear', appeared on 1 December 1943.
13. This film, too, would not be made until 1948, directed by William Dieterle and starring Jennifer Jones. In the intervening period, five more screenwriters were hired.
14. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 19 December 1943 (Yale).
15. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 12 February 1944 (S.I.U.).
16. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 17 February 1944 (Yale).
17. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 18 March 1944 (S.I.U.).
18. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 9 April 1944 (Yale).
19. The Miracle was not released until 1959. The screenplay used was by Frank Butler and the film was directed by Irving Rapper and starred Carroll Baker and Roger Moore.
20. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 11 April 1944 (S.I.U.).
21. Robert Easton, Max Brand: The Big 'Westerner' (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1970) p. 146.
22. Ibid., pp. 229-30.
23. Frederick Faust to Dorothy Faust, 8 April 1944 (Berkeley).
24. Jane Easton to Robert Easton, 19 November 1944, in Robert and Jane Easton, Love and War: Pearl Harbor Through V-J Day (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991) pp. 258-60.
25. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 13 September 1944 (S.I.U.).
26. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 13 August, 1 and 13 September 1944 (S.I.U.).
27. May Aldington to Richard Aldington, 9 November 1944 (S.I.U.).
28. Richard Aldington to Alvin Manuel, 28 September 1944 (U.C.L.A.).
29. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 4 March 1945 (Yale).
30. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 15 April 1945 (S.I.U.).
31. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 15 May 1945 (Yale); Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 19 May 1945 (S.I.U.). Aldington worked intermittently on the Encyclopaedia Britannica project for many years but it was never published. The four French romances were La Princesse de Clèves by Madame de La Fayette, Manon Lescaut by Abbé Prévost, Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Choderlos de Laclos and La Duchesse de Langeais by Honoré de Balzac. (One of the translations, that of Les Liaisons Dangereuses, was Aldington's own, published by Routledge in 1924.) The book was also published by Duell, Sloan and Pearce in the US.
32. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 22 April 1946 (S.I.U.).
33. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 13 July 1945 (Yale).
34. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 10 and 25 August 1945 (S.I.U.).
35. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 24 May 1945 (Yale).
36. The book would not appear in England until six years after Aldington's death, when it was published by Cassell.
37. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 19 January 1946 (Victoria).
38. Richard Aldington to H.D., 23 January 1946 (Yale).
39. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 5 April 1946 (S.I.U.).
40. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 7 March 1946; Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 10 April 1946 (S.I.U.); Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 19 March 1946 (S.I.U.).
41. Richard Aldington to H.D., 24 April 1951 (Yale).
42. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 8 June 1946 (S.I.U.).
43. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 17 June 1946 (S.I.U.).
44. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Clark Powell, 28 July 1946, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, pp. 214-216.
45. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 14 August 1946 (Yale); Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 14 August 1946 (S.I.U.).
### 14. The Public Face: Novelist, Biographer, Memoirist and Anthologist
1. Richard Aldington to Martin Secker, 6 March 1949 (S.I.U.).
2. The third stanza of Shelley's The World's Wanderers reads:
Weary Wind, who wanderest
Like the world's rejected guest,
Hast thou still some secret nest
On the tree or billow?
3. Richard Aldington, Rejected Guest: A Novel (New York: Viking Press, 1939) p. 289.
4. Ibid., pp. 285 and 294.
5. May Aldington became Watkins on her second marriage.
6. Aldington, Rejected Guest, p. 288.
7. Ibid., pp. 5, 23, 109, 163 and 296.
8. The Times Literary Supplement, 28 October 1939.
9. The Times, 30 October 1939.
10. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 61.
11. Ibid., pp. 104 and 156.
12. Ibid., p. 217.
13. Ibid., p. 306.
14. Ibid., pp. 375-76.
15. Ibid., pp. 204-206 and 215.
16. Ibid., pp. 206-207.
17. Ibid., p. 320.
18. Ibid., pp. 404 and 410-11. The two occasions on which Aldington returned from the US to Europe were in October 1935, when he and Patmore left Connecticut, and January 1937 when he was summoned back by Netta.
19. The New York Times, 12 January 1941.
20. The book was published by Cassell in 1967.
21. Manchester Evening News, 2 January 1948. The anthology appeared in the UK as Poetry of the English-Speaking World (London: Heinemann, 1947).
22. The Times Literary Supplement, 14 December 1947.
23. Richard Aldington, ed., Great French Romances (London: The Pilot Press, 1946; New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1946); The Portable Oscar Wilde (New York: Viking Press, 1946); Oscar Wilde: Selected Works, with 12 Unpublished Letters (London: Heinemann, 1946); Walter Pater: Selected Works (London: Heinemann, 1948; New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1948); The Religion of Beauty: Selections from the Aesthetes (London: Heinemann, 1950).
24. Selwyn Kittredge, The Literary Career of Richard Aldington (PhD. dissertation, two vols) (Ann Arbor, MI: New York University Press, 1976) pp. 508-509.
25. The Times Literary Supplement, 19 October 1946.
26. Graeme Cooper to Vivien Whelpton, March 2018.
27. Richard Aldington, Wellington, p. 254.
28. Ibid., p. 258.
29. Ibid., p. 261.
30. The Sunday Times, 15 September 1946.
31. Daily Telegraph, 4 October 1946.
32. The Times Literary Supplement, 25 January 1947.
33. The Manchester Guardian, 24 January 1947.
### 15. Back to the Old World, 1946-1947
1. Richard Aldington to Arnold Gyde, 21 August 1946 (Rushden).
2. Irene Rathbone to Nancy Cunard, 14 and 29 November 1946 (Texas).
3. Richard Aldington to Nancy Cunard, 2 September 1946 (Texas).
4. Rathbone quotes Cunard's comment in her own letter to Cunard, 29 November 1946 (Texas).
5. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 6 September 1946 (Rushden).
6. Alexander Frere to Richard Aldington, 24 August 1946 (Rushden).
7. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 18 September 1946 (S.I.U.).
8. Alexander Frere to Richard Aldington, 3 April 1947 (Rushden).
9. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 14 September 1946 (Yale).
10. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 15 September 1946 (S.I.U.).
11. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 6 October 1946 (Rushden).
12. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 8 October 1946 (S.I.U.).
13. Richard Aldington to Richard Church, 2 December 1946 (Texas).
14. Richard Aldington to Douglas Goldring, 21 September 1946, in Steele and Chang, 'Modernism at the Margins', p. 53.
15. Aldington shared his anxieties about the Glovers in a letter to Richard Church on 2 December: 'Hal and Etta seem to be wearying of Colwyn and talk of coming back to Paris. This is excellent news for us but I am frankly a little troubled by the idea of their trying to do it on too little money.' (Texas)
16. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 30 November 1946 (TCD).
17. Richard Aldington to H.D., 2 September 1946 (Yale).
18. Bryher to H.D., 29 September 1946 (Yale).
19. Richard Aldington to H.D., 25 September 1946 (Yale).
20. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 December 1946 (Yale). May Aldington was 73 years old.
21. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 13 December 1946 (S.I.U.).
22. Richard Aldington to H.D., 26 October 1946 (Yale).
23. Richard Aldington to H.D., 9 and 26 October and 4 November 1946 (Yale).
24. Richard Aldington to H.D., 4 November 1946 (Yale).
25. Guest, Herself Defined, p. 284.
26. Richard Aldington to H.D., 22 December 1946 (Yale).
27. Richard Aldington to H.D., 18 January 1947 (Yale).
28. Richard Aldington to H.D., 8 March 1947 (Yale).
29. Richard Aldington to H.D., 2 May 1947 (Yale).
30. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 5 May 1947 (S.I.U.).
31. The specified books were Euripides and Aristotle's Poetics for H.D, and Rabelais and Aeschylus (along with Sinclair's ink-stand) for Aldington.
32. Richard Aldington to H.D., 26 April 1947 (Yale). Sinclair had been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in the late 1920s and moved with a companion to Buckinghamshire in 1932. She died on 14 November 1946.
33. Richard Aldington to H.D., 15 and 23 May 1947 (Yale).
34. Richard Aldington to H.D., 25 January 1948 (Yale).
35. Richard Aldington to H.D., 18 April 1947 (Yale).
36. Richard Aldington to H.D., 14 May 1947 (Yale).
37. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 5 May 1947 (S.I.U.).
38. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 6 June 1947 (S.I.U.).
39. See Guest, Herself Defined, p. 285. The novel was eventually published by the University of Florida Press in 2007.
40. Richard Aldington to H.D., 10 June 1947 (Yale).
41. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 22 June 1947 (S.I.U.).
42. Richard Aldington to H.D., 11 June and 15 July 1947 (Yale).
43. See page 160 above.
44. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 9 May 1947 (S.I.U.).
45. Netta Aldington to Eric Warman, 9 July 1947 (S.I.U.).
46. Alister Kershaw, The Pleasure of Their Company (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1986) pp. 93-95.
47. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 16 July 1947 (S.I.U.).
48. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 22 July 1947 (S.I.U.). Talking Bronco was published by Faber & Faber in 1946. Campbell did indeed 'knock [Spender's] block off' two years later, on 14 April 1949, when he punched Spender on the nose at a reading that the latter was giving for the Poetry Society in the crypt of the Ethical Church in Bayswater.
49. Albatross was the German-based publisher of English language books in paperback editions for the European market. Under John Holroyd-Reece's management they had published Soft Answers, All Men Are Enemies, Women Must Work, Very Heaven and Seven Against Reeves between 1935 and 1938. Rejected Guest was added to their list in 1947.
50. Richard Aldington to H.D., 11 and 20 June and 22 July 1947 (Yale).
51. Richard Aldington to Henry Slonimsky, 8 July 1947 (S.I.U.).
52. Richard Aldington to H.D., 20 June 1947 (Yale).
### 16. The Sociable Life: Paradise Regained – and Lost, 1947-1949
1. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 August and 13 October 1947 (Yale).
2. W.D. Deasey, 'Lunch at the Villa', The Bulletin Literary Supplement (Sydney), no. 23, 30 December 1980, pp. 177-80.
3. Alister Kershaw to Norman Gates (undated), 1980 (S.I.U.).
4. The third Frere child, Henry, was born in 1945.
5. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 18 August 1947 (S.I.U.).
6. Richard Aldington to H.D., 31 August 1947 (Yale).
7. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 27 July 1947 (S.I.U.).
8. From a projected (but discarded) preface for Norman Gates's 1992 selection of Aldington's letters (S.I.U.).
9. Etta Glover died from cardiac problems in June 1947, aged 80.
10. Richard Aldington to H.D., 10 November 1947 (Yale).
11. Richard Church, The Voyage Home (London: Heinemann, 1964) p. 75.
12. Richard Aldington to Richard Church, 6 October 1946 (Texas).
13. For examples of Church's lack of charity towards Aldington, see The Voyage Home, pp. 72-76, which includes several inaccurate assertions about Aldington's personal life and written works, and his half-hearted review of Aldington's Walter Pater in John O' London's Weekly on 3 September 1948.
14. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 23 April 1948 (Rushden).
15. Kershaw, The Pleasure of Their Company, p. 103.
16. Deasey had never been into combat, but his service as a commando had involved him for six months of 1942 in a training experiment in isolated conditions in the North West Territories that was a horrific and prolonged physical and mental ordeal. His subsequent health problems may well have been triggered by this experience.
17. Geoffrey Dutton, The Mortal and the Marble (London: Chapman & Hall, 1950).
18. Geoffrey Dutton, Out in the Open: An Autobiography (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1994) pp. 170-71.
19. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 7 March 1949 (S.I.U.).
20. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 16 January 1950 (S.I.U.).
21. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 23 February 1950 (S.I.U.).
22. For an account of her holiday in Rye with Patmore, H.D. and Aldington in 1912, see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 42.
23. Aldington, The Religion of Beauty, p. 5.
24. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 3 October 1949 (S.I.U.).
25. See Roy Campbell, Adamastor (London: Faber & Faber, 1930).
26. Kershaw, The Pleasure of Their Company, pp. 48-54.
27. See Campbell, The Georgiad, and Aldington's Death of a Hero and Soft Answers.
28. The Times Literary Supplement, 26 February 1949; Ross's review appeared in the 5 February issue. Campbell's essay appeared in Poetry Review XL (April-May 1949) and is reproduced in Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, pp. 4-11.
29. Richard Aldington to H.D., 10 June 1948 (Yale).
30. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 18 June 1948 (S.I.U.).
31. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 21 July 1948 (S.I.U.).
32. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 8 August 1948 (S.I.U.).
33. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 5 October 1948 (S.I.U.).
34. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 12 October 1948 (S.I.U.).
35. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 29 December 1948 (S.I.U.).
36. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 12 October 1948 (S.I.U.).
37. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 12 October 1948 (S.I.U.). What Aldington could not foresee was that Muggeridge would become a supportive reviewer of his work and a much-needed ally in the years to come.
38. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 5, 8 and 29 October and 1 November 1948 (S.I.U.).
39. In the event, and not entirely to Aldington's satisfaction, the Penguin poetry selection was chosen and introduced by William Emrys Williams, Penguin's chief editor, while the letters, although selected by Aldington, were introduced by Huxley. However, Aldington chose and introduced the Penguin selection of Lawrence's essays and wrote introductions for their editions of The White Peacock, Aaron's Rod, Kangaroo, Etruscan Places, The Lost Girl, The Plumed Serpent, St Mawr, The Virgin and the Gipsy and The Woman Who Rode Away and Other Stories. (Sons and Lovers and The Rainbow were already in print in Penguin editions.) Aldington's introductions were also used for the Heinemann editions of The White Peacock, Kangaroo, The Plumed Serpent, The Lost Girl and The Woman Who Rode Away and Other Stories, while he wrote further introductions for their editions of Mornings in Mexico, The Trespasser, The Man Who Died, Twilight in Italy, The Rainbow, Sea in Sardinia and England, My England and Other Stories. Heinemann published Women in Love with an Aldington introduction in 1954. He thus wrote a total of seventeen introductions, as well as selecting the material for the Selected Letters and Selected Essays and writing a monograph for the Penguin series and the Heinemann biography.
40. Norman Gates archives at S.I.U..
41. Allan Wingate was publishing the Complete Poems, a new edition of Fifty Romance Lyric Poems and the Chawton edition of Jane Austen's novels, with an introduction by Aldington; Arthur Barker was bringing out a new edition of All Men Are Enemies, under licence from Heinemann; and Evans Brothers was publishing Four English Portraits and The Strange History of Charles Waterton.
42. Richard Aldington to Alvin Manuel, 31 August and 7 November 1948 (U.C.L.A.).
43. Henry Williamson, The Story of a Norfolk Farm (London: Faber & Faber, 1941).
44. Kershaw, The Pleasure of Their Company, pp. 75 and 80.
45. See Aldington's Death of a Hero and Williamson's The Patriot's Progress (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1930).
46. The Wet Flanders Plain (London: Faber & Faber, 1929) was Williamson's account of his return visits to the battlefields in 1925 and 1927.
47. Richard Aldington to H.D., 8 May 1949 (Yale). The current writer has not been able to establish the identity of the American visitors to whom Aldington refers.
48. John Holroyd-Reece was nicknamed 'the Bird' because of his company's name: Albatross.
49. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 15 May 1949 (S.I.U.).
50. Henry Williamson, in Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, pp. 166-67.
51. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 20 January 1949 (S.I.U.).
52. Richard Aldington to H.D., 11 May 1948 (Yale).
53. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 20 May 1949 (S.I.U.).
54. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 20 September 1949 (Yale).
55. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 4 October 1949 (S.I.U.).
56. Dutton, Out in the Open, pp. 170-71.
57. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 22 September 1949 (S.I.U.).
58. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 20 October 1949 (S.I.U.).
59. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 13 November 1949 (S.I.U.).
60. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 18 November 1949 (S.I.U.).
61. The Mint would appear before Aldington's T.E. Lawrence biography; it was published by Jonathan Cape in 1955.
62. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 22 November 1948 (S.I.U.).
63. Richard Aldington to Martin Secker, 4 February and 6 March 1949 (S.I.U.).
64. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 13 and 24 September 1949 (S.I.U.).
65. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 5 November 1949. The American poet, Witter Bynner had been a close friend of the Lawrences in New Mexico. His book, Journey with Genius: Recollections and Reflections Concerning the D.H. Lawrences, was published in New York by John Day Co. in 1951.
66. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 20 December 1949 (S.I.U.).
### 17. The Public Face: The Old Loyalties
1. For an account of this episode in H.D.'s life, see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 156-161 and 348.
2. Richard Aldington to H.D., 29 April 1948 (Yale).
3. Ada Lawrence, Middleton Murry, Catherine Carswell, Dorothy Brett, Helen Corke, Mabel Dodge Luhan, Jessie Chambers and Frieda herself had all published their own reminiscences.
4. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 20 June 1948 (S.I.U.). Zilboorg concludes that the reference here is to the Odyssey Press edition of Lady Chatterley's Lover (Leipzig, 1933), which carried a brief introduction by Frieda Lawrence (Zilboorg, Richard Aldington and H.D., p. 290).
5. See H.D., Bid Me to Live (New York: Dial Press, 1960) pp. 163-84.
6. Richard Aldington to H.D., 27 June 1948 (Yale).
7. Richard Aldington to Martin Secker, 6 March 1949 (S.I.U.).
8. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 9 October 1948 (S.I.U.).
9. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 22 October 1948 (S.I.U.).
10. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 6 February 1949 (S.I.U.).
11. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 22 October 1949 (Rushden).
12. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 15 and 22 October 1949 (Rushden).
13. Richard Aldington, D.H. Lawrence: Portrait of a Genius, But..., p. 163.
14. Ibid., p. 111.
15. Ibid., p. 76.
16. Ibid., p. 131.
17. Ibid., p. 269.
18. Ibid., p. 170.
19. Ibid., p. 24.
20. Ibid., p. 32.
21. Ibid., pp. 80, 210.
22. Ibid., pp. 95 and 329.
23. Ibid., pp. 290.
24. The Observer, 2 April 1950.
25. See: Richard Aldington to The Observer, 29 March 1950; Assistant Editor of The Observer to Richard Aldington, 8 April 1950; Alexander Frere to The Observer, 12 April 1950; Richard Aldington to The Observer, 13 and 14 April 1950; Alexander Frere to Richard Aldington, 17 April 1950; Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 21 April 1950 (all at Rushden).
26. Richard Aldington to David Garnett, 19 May, 5 and 22 June 1950 (Texas).
27. The Times Literary Supplement, 31 March 1950. Muggeridge also wrote the Daily Telegraph review of the same date.
28. New Statesman and Nation, 29 April 1950; Daily Mail, 1 April 1950.
29. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 2/3 April 1950 (S.I.U.).
30. Frieda Lawrence to Richard Aldington, [ante 26] April 1950 (S.I.U.).
31. The Sunday Times, 2 April 1950.
32. Herbert Read, 'An Irregular Genius: The Significance of D.H. Lawrence', World Review, no. 17 (July 1950) pp. 50-56.
33. Aldington, D.H. Lawrence: Portrait of a Genius, But..., p. 130.
34. Saturday Review of Literature, 29 April 1950.
35. Moore's first Lawrence biography, The Life and Works of D.H. Lawrence, was published in 1950 by George Allen & Unwin in London and by Twayne in New York; his second, The Intelligent Heart, was published by Heinemann in London in 1953 and by Farrar, Straus and Young in New York in 1954; his third, The Priest of Love was published by Heinemann in London, and by Farrar, Straus and Giroux in Gordonsville, Virginia in 1974.
36. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 16 May 1950.
37. Richard Aldington, 'Introduction', in D.H. Lawrence, The Trespasser (London: Heinemann, 1950); 'Introduction', in D.H. Lawrence, Twilight in Italy (London: Heinemann, 1950). For a list of the Penguin and Heinemann titles, see note 39 to chapter 16.
38. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 19 October 1950 (Yale).
39. Kittredge, The Literary Career of Richard Aldington, p. 564.
40. Aldington, Life for Life's Sake, p. 42.
41. The Sunday Times, 20 August 1950.
42. Aldington, The Religion of Beauty, pp. 1, 5, 22, 23 and 43.
43. The Times Literary Supplement, 1 September 1950.
44. The Sunday Times, 27 October 1946. The selection consisted of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Salome, The Importance of Being Earnest, De Profundis, The Critic as Artist, Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Very Young and selections from A Woman of No Importance, Lady Windermere's Fan and An Ideal Husband as well as a selection of letters, poems and reviews.
45. Richard Aldington, 'Oscar Wilde', reproduced in Alister Kershaw, ed., Richard Aldington: Selected Critical Writings, 1928-1960 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1970) pp. 47, 52, 54, 56, 64 and 69
46. Ibid., pp. 42-43.
47. Ibid., pp. 43 and 70.
48. Richard Aldington, 'Walter Pater', reproduced in Kershaw, Selected Critical Writings, p. 72.
49. Ibid., p. 79.
50. Ibid., pp. 83.
51. Ibid., p. 88.
52. Ibid., pp. 94 and 101.
53. New Statesman and Nation, 13 November 1948.
54. John O' London's Weekly, 3 September 1948.
55. Richard Aldington, 'Jane Austen', reproduced in Kershaw, Selected Critical Writings, pp. 110-11, 105 and 107-108. Aldington notes that the Cinderella in Emma is not the eponymous heroine, but Jane Fairfax.
56. Ibid., pp. 110 and 113.
57. Richard Aldington, 'Laurent Tailhade', Egoist, vol. 2, no. 10 (1 October 1915) pp. 159-61.
58. Richard Aldington, Four English Portraits (London: Evans Brothers, 1948) p. 171.
59. Ibid., p. 189.
60. Ibid., p. 173.
61. Ibid., p. 149.
62. Ibid., pp. 147 and 180-81.
63. Ibid., p. 177.
64. While both Disraeli and Dickens lived well into the second half of the century, Aldington focuses in both cases on their early lives and achievements.
65. Aldington, Four English Portraits, p. 143. Aldington's essay-length account of Waterton's life appeared first in The Times Literary Supplement, 29 December 1932, and was subsequently published by Heinemann in a limited private edition in 1934. It also appeared in the Virginia Quarterly Review, no. 10 (October 1934) and was included in Aldington, Artifex in 1935.
66. Ibid., pp. 11, 16 and 26.
67. Ibid., pp. 8 and 14.
68. Ibid., pp. 57 and 59.
69. Ibid., p. 76.
70. Richard Aldington, The Strange Life of Charles Waterton, 1782-1865 (London: Evans Brothers, 1949) pp. 170-171; Norman Douglas, 'A Mad Englishman', in Experiments (London: Chapman and Hall, 1926); Edith Sitwell, 'Charles Waterton: the South American Wanderer', in The English Eccentrics (London: Faber & Faber, 1933); Philip Gosse, The Squire of Walton Hall (London: Cassell & Co., 1940).
71. Aldington, The Strange Life of Charles Waterton, p. 11.
72. Ibid., p. 12.
73. Aldington, Four English Portraits, p. 102. Both these feats were allegedly accomplished by Waterton.
74. The Times Literary Supplement, 26 August 1949; Richard Hobson, Charles Waterton: His Home, Habits and Handiwork (London: Whittaker & Co., 1867).
75. The Times Literary Supplement, 8 September 1949.
76. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 1 September 1949 (S.I.U.). It is worth noting that, when The Times Literary Supplement published Muggeridge's favourable review of Portrait of a Genius, But... some six months later, Aldington did register his surprise, telling Kershaw that it was 'a defeat for Eliot-Sitwellism': Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 2/3 April 1950 (S.I.U.).
77. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 7 September 1949 (S.I.U.).
### 18. The Private Life: Crisis, 1950
1. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Clarke Powell, 8 January 1950, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 244. If this figure was correct, either no Patmore payments, income tax or otherwise, had been paid for the whole thirteen years since the settlement (and this does not appear to be the case), or the unpaid portion had accrued interest at a very high rate. Kershaw told Tony Aldington on 17 April: 'There seems to be no doubt that Richard agreed to a tax-free payment and is therefore up for some £1,200 quid in retrospective taxation. Also, of course, it doubles the sum which must be paid hereafter' (S.I.U.).
2. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 16 January 1950 (S.I.U.).
3. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 18 January 1950 (S.I.U.).
4. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 17 January 1950 (Yale).
5. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 13 January 1950 (S.I.U.). In the General Election of 23 February 1950, the Labour Party did win an overall majority, but only of five seats. They were forced to call another election in October 1951, in which, despite gaining the popular vote, they were defeated by Winston Churchill's Conservative Party. This would be the beginning of a thirteen-year period of Conservative government.
6. T.S. Eliot was awarded the Order of Merit and the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1948.
7. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 19 January 1950 (S.I.U.).
8. Richard Aldington to H.D., 8 January 1950 (Yale).
9. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 8 February 1950 (S.I.U.).
10. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 24 February 1950 (S.I.U.).
11. Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 1 March 1950, in Gates, Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters, p. 245.
12. Dutton, Out in the Open, p. 171.
13. Ibid., pp. 162-63.
14. John Arlott, Basingstoke Boy (London: Collins, 1990).
15. Richard Aldington to H.D., 26 October 1946 (Yale).
16. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 8 August 1960 (Yale).
17. Nesta Macdonald to Charles Doyle, 27 March 1990 (Victoria).
18. The address of the first flat was Flat 5, 37 Ennismore Gardens, SW17. The arrangement is referred to in Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 13 April 1951(S.I.U.). The second address was 1A Bramerton Street, SW3. See Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 19 December 1952 (S.I.U.).
19. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 3 and 27 August 1954 (S.I.U.).
20. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 8 August 1960 (Yale).
21. Frieda Lawrence to Richard Aldington, 23 May 1950 (S.I.U.).
22. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 5 May 1950 (Yale).
23. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 23 September 1950 (Yale).
24. Richard Aldington to Miriam Slonimsky, 12 December 1951 (S.I.U.).
25. Richard Aldington to H.D., 23 May 1950 (Yale). Perdita was married to the American literary agent John Schaffner on 24 June 1950.
26. Richard Aldington to H.D., 2 October 1950 (Yale).
27. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 24/25 March 1950 (S.I.U.).
28. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 19 June 1950 (Yale).
29. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 5 July 1950, and to William Dibben, 7 July 1950 (S.I.U.).
30. Richard Aldington to Denison Deasey, 18 November 1950.
31. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 5 December 1950 (S.I.U.).
32. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 22 December 1950 (S.I.U.).
33. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 7 March 1948 (S.I.U.).
34. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 24 April 1948 (S.I.U.).
35. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 11 July and 11 November 1948 (S.I.U.).
36. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 30 January 1949 (S.I.U.).
37. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 20 March 1949 (S.I.U.).
38. Charles Prentice to Richard Aldington, 10 May 1949 (S.I.U.).
39. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 16 May 1950.
40. Richard Aldington to H.D., 8 January 1947 (Yale).
41. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 14 August 1952 (S.I.U.).
42. Richard Aldington to Miriam Slonimsky, 15 August 1952 (S.I.U.).
43. Richard Aldington to Miriam Slonimsky, 11 March 1954 (S.I.U.).
44. Arlott, Basingstoke Boy, p. 188.
45. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 22 March 1955 (S.I.U.).
46. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 22 February 1957 (S.I.U.).
47. Richard Aldington, trans., The Mystery of the Nativity (London: Allen & Unwin, 1924). The original text, the fragment of a longer play, the remainder of which is lost, appears in Cohen's Mystères et Moralités du MS. 617 de Chantilly (Paris: Champion, 1920).
48. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 15 August 1956 (S.I.U.).
49. Un Songe dans le Jardin du Luxembourg was published by La Table Ronde in October 1957.
50. Gustave Cohen to Richard Aldington, 30 April 1956 (S.I.U.).
51. Aldington, Patmore and the Freres had stayed at Bormes in the summer of 1932 when Aldington was working on All Men Are Enemies.
52. Richard Aldington to H.D., 28 June 1950 (Yale).
53. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 13 February 1953 (S.I.U.).
54. Denison Deasey to Norman Gates, (undated) 1980 (S.I.U.).
55. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 15 June 1956, in Miriam Benkovitz, ed., A Passionate Prodigality: Letters to Alan Bird from Richard Aldington (New York: New York Public Library, 1975) p. 235.
56. Richard Emeny, Roy Campbell: Poet of Two Wars (London: Cecil Woolf, 2014).
57. Peter Alexander, Roy Campbell: A Political Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982).
58. Richard Aldington, Introduction to Mistral (London: Heinemann, 1956) p. 131.
59. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 10 October 1955 (S.I.U.).
60. Roy Campbell to Richard Aldington, 24 February 1951 (S.I.U.).
61. Richard Aldington to Rob Lyle, 19 March 1955 (NYPL). The 'civil servants' included many of the Criterion set. Frankie Birrell (1899-1935) was a journalist and critic and one-time lover of David Garnett; Raymond Mortimer (1895-1980), who conducted a long-term relationship with Harold Nicolson (husband of Vita Sackville-West) in the 1920s, was literary editor of the New Statesman and Nation from 1935-1947 and lead reviewer at The Sunday Times from 1947 onwards.
62. Roy Campbell to Richard Aldington, 24 February 1951 (S.I.U.).
63. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 7 February 1951 (S.I.U.).
64. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 6 October 1949 (Yale). The award of the prize to Pound in its first year caused such a furore that Congress ended the Library of Congress's involvement in the programme. The unused portion of the grant was returned to the Bollingen Foundation who handed over the future administration of the prize to the Beinecke Library at Yale.
65. Richard Aldington to H.D., 25 November and 16 December 1950 (Yale).
66. Richard Aldington to H.D., 17 June 1951(Yale).
67. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 July 1951 (Yale).
68. Richard Aldington to H.D., 9 August 1951 (Yale).
69. Richard Aldington to H.D., 26 August 1951 (Yale).
70. Ezra Pound to Richard Aldington, 19 January 1952 (S.I.U.).
71. Ezra Pound to Richard Aldington, 3 February 1952 (S.I.U.).
72. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 21 March 1952 (Yale).
73. Richard Aldington to H.D., 23 February 1952 (Yale).
74. Richard Aldington to H.D., 24 April 1952 (Yale).
75. Richard Aldington to H.D., 28 June 1950 (Yale).
76. Richard Aldington to H.D., 12 October 1952 (Yale).
77. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 16 November 1950 (S.I.U.).
78. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 16 November 1951, and to P.A.G. Aldington, 12 January 1952 (S.I.U.). May Aldington died in March 1954.
79. Zilboorg, Richard Aldington and H.D., p. 411.
80. Richard Aldington to H.D., 16 December 1950 (Yale).
81. Richard Aldington to Denison Deasey, 20 January 1955 (Canberra).
82. Richard Aldington to Leonard Bacon, 19 October 1950 (Yale).
83. Richard Aldington to H.D., 29 November 1950 (Yale).
84. Alexander Frere to Richard Aldington, 17 December 1950 (Rushden).
### 19. The Public Face: Disaster
1. Fred D. Crawford, Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia: A Cautionary Tale (Carbondale: University of Southern Illinois Press, 1998).
2. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 2 January 1951 (S.I.U.).
3. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 4 January 1951 (S.I.U.).
4. In fact, the truth had already been revealed in Léon Bussard's Le Secret du Colonel Lawrence (Clermont-Ferrand: Mont-Louis, 1941), a text Kershaw had attempted to obtain for Aldington without success. It would also be stated in a 1954 book, A Diary with Letters 1931-1950 (Oxford University Press) by Thomas Jones, who had served on the War Cabinet Secretariat during the First World War.
5. Richard Aldington, Lawrence of Arabia: A Biographical Enquiry (London: Collins, 1955) p. 40.
6. Ibid., pp. 22 and 36.
7. Ibid., p. 23.
8. Ibid., p. 24.
9. T.E. Lawrence, The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Eight copies of the book were privately printed in 1922 (known as the 'Oxford Text'); an abridged version was published in a subscription of 200 copies (the 'Subscribers' Text') in 1926; a much more stringently abridged version appeared as Revolt in the Desert (London: Jonathan Cape) in 1927. The 'Subscribers' Text' was republished by Jonathan Cape in 1935 after Lawrence's death and the original unabridged 'Oxford Text', edited by Jeremy Wilson, appeared in editions of 1997 and 2003 (Fordingbridge: Castle Hill Press).
10. See: Lowell Thomas, With Lawrence in Arabia (New York: Century Press, 1924); Robert Graves, Lawrence and the Arabs (London: Jonathan Cape, 1927); Basil H. Liddell Hart, T.E. Lawrence in Arabia and After (London: Jonathan Cape, 1934); Vyvyan Richards, Portrait of T.E. Lawrence (London: Jonathan Cape, 1936).
11. See: T.E. Lawrence to His Biographer, Robert Graves (London: Faber & Faber, 1938); T.E. Lawrence to His Biographer, Liddell Hart (London: Faber & Faber, 1938). The two publications were brought together in 1963 (London: Cassell).
12. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 24 July 1951 (S.I.U.). Secret Despatches from Arabia (London: Golden Cockerel Press, 1939) was a selection collated by Professor A.W. Lawrence, Lawrence's brother (and manager of Lawrence's literary estate), of articles contributed by Lawrence to the Arab Bureau's Bulletin, issued in Cairo between June 1916 and December 1918 and intended as information and intelligence for the British authorities in the Near and Middle East, the Foreign Office, the War Office and the Admiralty. The relevant official history was Cyril Falls, Military Operations: Egypt and Palestine (two volumes) (London: HMSO, 1928). Archibald Wavell (later Field Marshall Sir Archibald Wavell) (1883-1950) was (as a lieutenant colonel) a staff officer with the Egyptian Expeditionary Force from June 1917. His books on the Palestine campaign were: The Palestine Campaign (London: Constable, 1933) and Allenby: A Study in Generalship (London: Harrap, 1940). General (later Sir) George de Symons Barrow (1864-1959) served as commander of the Yeomanry Mounted Division and the 4th Cavalry Division in Palestine in 1917 and 1918. His account of his experiences is entitled The Fire of Life (London: Hutchinson, 1942). General Edouard Brémond (1868-1948) was head of the French Military Mission in Egypt and the Hejaz from August 1916 to December 1917. He published his account, Le Hedjaz dans la Guerre Mondiale (Paris: Payot) in 1931. It was Major N.N.E. Bray (1886-1962), an intelligence officer seconded to Palestine from the India Office in 1916, who recommended to the British government in November 1916 that Britain support an Arab guerrilla campaign. His memoir of events is entitled Shifting Sands (London: Unicorn Press, 1934); he also wrote a biography of Lieutenant Colonel G.E. Leachman, an important figure in the Arab Revolt, who was murdered in 1920, A Paladin of Arabia (London: The Unicorn Press, 1936). Major Hubert Young (later Sir Hubert Young) (1885-1950) was staff officer with the Hejaz Regular Army in 1918. His memoir, The Independent Arab (London: John Murray) was published in 1933.
13. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 23 August 1954 (S.I.U.). George Antonius (1891-1942) was a Lebanese-Egyptian diplomat whose The Arab Awakening (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1938) was, as Aldington acknowledges (calling him 'the special-pleading advocate of "the Arabs"'), an account of events from the Arab perspective. King Abdullah, Emir of Transjordan from 1921 until 1946 and King of Jordan until his assassination in 1951, published his own memoirs in 1951 (London: Jonathan Cape). The diplomat Ronald Storrs (later Sir Ronald Storrs) (1881-1955) had been a friend of Lawrence when they were both attached to the Arab Bureau in Cairo. He was political officer to the Egyptian Expeditionary Force in 1917 and 1918 and a participant in the organisation of the Arab Revolt. He was appointed Governor of Jerusalem in December 1918. His memoirs, Orientations, were published by Nicholson & Watson in 1937. Colonel Robert Buxton (1883-1953), an officer in the Imperial Camel Corps, decorated for his part in the seizing of the Muddawara Railway Station in August 1918, is quoted in Graves's book. General (later Field Marshall and Viscount) Edmund Allenby (1861-1936) led the Egyptian Expeditionary Force from June 1917 onwards. He supported the Arab Revolt but Aldington's adverse quotations from Allenby about Lawrence are taken from the books by Barrow and Wavell. Captain Rosario Pisani was a member of the French forces who participated in most of the attacks on the Turkish Railway, with his French-Algerian mountain and machine gun company; his accounts were recorded in the official French history, Les Armées Françaises dans la Grande Guerre. Colonel Walter Stirling (1880-1958) was an intelligence officer at the Arab Bureau throughout the Palestine Campaign. As his autobiography, Safety Last (London: Hollis & Carter), was not published until 1953, Aldington is probably here referring to quotations from him in other works.
14. Andrew MacPhail, Three Persons (London: John Murray, 1929). Sir Andrew MacPhail (1864-1938) was a Canadian doctor and writer who had served in the First World War. His book is a critical review of the memoirs of 'Colonel' House (adviser to President Wilson), Field Marshall Sir Henry Wilson (Chief of the Imperial General Staff in 1918) and T.E. Lawrence.
15. Aldington, Lawrence of Arabia, pp. 13-14.
16. Ibid., pp. 59-60.
17. A.W. Lawrence, ed., T.E. Lawrence by His Friends (London: Jonathan Cape, 1937) p. 199. It is worth noting that in 1954, anticipating some of Aldington's criticisms, Lawrence's brother had Jonathan Cape issue a new and abridged edition of this book.
18. Aldington, Lawrence of Arabia, pp. 381-85.
19. See Henry Williamson to Richard Aldington, 4 January 1956 (S.I.U.).
20. In fact, Lawrence had not written this Who's Who entry, but had, the publishers revealed, amplified the entry for the 1921 edition and frequently modified it in subsequent years.
21. Henry Williamson to Richard Aldington, 31 March 1951 (S.I.U.).
22. Henry Williamson, 'Threnos to T.E. Lawrence', The European, May and June 1954.
23. The European was published between 1953 and 1959 by Diana Mosley and was a cultural magazine and platform for Oswald Mosley's political views. Quotations from The European are taken from Anne Williamson, 'The Genius of Friendship: Part Two: Richard Aldington', Henry Williamson Society Journal, no. 28 (September 1993) p. 14. The Home Letters of T.E. Lawrence and His Brothers was published in Oxford by Basil Blackwell in 1954, almost certainly as part of a campaign by the Seven Pillars of Wisdom Trust and the 'Lawrence Bureau' to put positive representations of Lawrence in front of the public in advance of the Aldington biography.
24. Henry Williamson to David Garnett, 8 February 1955, quoted in Anne Williamson, 'The Genius of Friendship'. Garnett's review appeared in the New Statesman and Nation on 5 February 1955.
25. Anne Williamson, 'The Genius of Friendship', pp. 16-18.
26. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 12 February 1955 (S.I.U.).
27. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 23 March 1951 (S.I.U.).
28. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 8 July 1951 (S.I.U.).
29. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 27 April 1952 (S.I.U.).
30. Quoted in Crawford, Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia, p. 1.
31. Ibid., p. 44.
32. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 7 April 1952 (S.I.U.).
33. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 8 October 1952, in Benkovitz, A Passionate Prodigality, p. 59.
34. Richard Aldington to Netta Aldington, 11 September 1953 (BL).
35. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 11 September 1953 (S.I.U.).
36. Quoted in Crawford, Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia, p. 108.
37. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 13 November 1954 (S.I.U.).
38. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 28 May 1954 (S.I.U.).
39. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 1 June 1954 (S.I.U.).
40. Evening Standard, 19 January 1954.
41. Basil Liddell Hart to W.F. Stirling, 20 June 1955, quoted in Crawford, Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia, p. 130.
42. Liddell Hart, T.E. Lawrence in Arabia and After, p. 384.
43. Brian Bond to the author, 11 August 2018.
44. Peter Simkins to the author, 13 August 2018.
45. Winston Churchill to Basil Liddell Hart, 12 March 1954 (Texas).
46. Maurice Hankey to Basil Liddell Hart, 24 February 1954 (Texas).
47. Winston Churchill to Basil Liddell Hart, 17 July 1954 (Texas). Liddell Hart did not receive permission from Churchill to show this letter to Collins until 22 August. However, before publication, Collins added a paraphrase of this letter as a footnote to Aldington's discussion of the issue: see Aldington, Lawrence of Arabia, p. 385.
48. Basil Liddell Hart to various correspondents, 9 April 1954 (Texas).
49. Mark Bonham Carter to Basil Liddell Hart, 18 January 1955 (Texas).
50. William Collins to Basil Liddell Hart, 15 June 1954 (Texas).
51. A.W. Lawrence to Basil Liddell Hart, 24 March 1954 (Texas).
52. Basil Liddell Hart to Eric Kennington, 18 October 1954 (Texas).
53. Celandine Kennington to Basil Liddell Hart, 5 May 1954 (Texas).
54. Celandine Kennington to Basil Liddell Hart, 28 July 1954 (Texas).
55. Celandine Kennington to Basil Liddell Hart, 14 August 1954 (Texas).
56. Basil Liddell Hart to William Collins, 25 January 1954 (Texas).
57. Celandine Kennington to Basil Liddell Hart, 18 August and 17 October 1954 (Texas).
58. See Basil Liddell Hart to Eric Kennington et al., 21 April 1954 (Texas). Wright's book was entitled Portraits and Criticisms and was published in London by Nash & Grayson in 1925.
59. The most famous – and unsuccessful – case of this kind was Oscar Wilde's libel case against the Marquis of Queensberry in 1895.
60. A.W. Lawrence to Basil Liddell Hart, 15 June 1954 (Texas). The story of T.E. Lawrence's masochistic activities was finally revealed in The Sunday Times, 23 June 1968.
61. Celandine Kennington to Basil Liddell Hart, 17 October 1954 (Texas).
62. Richard Church to Richard Aldington, 12 December 1954 (S.I.U.).
63. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 9 March 1953 (S.I.U.).
64. The Sunday Chronicle had absorbed the Sunday Referee in 1939, thus depriving Aldington of a newspaper well-disposed towards him.
65. Celandine Kennington to Basil Liddell Hart, 28 January 1955 (Texas).
66. The quotation comes from The Manchester Guardian review of 31 January 1955.
67. The Times, 2 February 1955.
68. Basil Liddell Hart to Charles Carrington, 7 February 1955 (Texas). Copies of all the letters written by Liddell Hart to reviewers are also to be found in the archive.
69. Basil Liddell Hart to Lord Vansittart, 7 February 1955, and Lord Vansittart to Basil Liddell Hart, 9 February 1955 (Texas). Lord Vansittart (1888-1957) was a diplomat who, having served in the Middle East, was attached to the Foreign Office from 1911 and was private secretary to Lord Curzon, the Foreign Secretary, from 1920 to 1924. His review appeared in the Daily Telegraph on 31 January 1955.
70. Burnham had fought with the Royal Buckinghamshire Hussars and then (as Acting Lieutenant Colonel) in the 1st Middlesex Yeomanry in Palestine.
71. Breese had been the adjutant at Uxbridge when Lawrence enlisted in the RAF in 1922; Dening had been Deputy Assistant Adjutant General for 4th Cavalry Division in Palestine in 1918. The interview with Aldington, entitled 'Why I Debunked the Lawrence Legend', appeared in Illustrated on 5 February 1955.
72. 'Why I Decided to Debunk a Hero: Richard Aldington talks to Sydney Smith', Daily Express, 28 January 1955; 'The Big Lie Is Not Proved, Randolph Churchill Finds Lawrence a Liar', Evening Standard, 31 January 1955; 'Hero or Fake', Charles Curran in the Daily Mirror, 27 January 1955; 'Lawrence of Arabia, Now a Book Debunks Him', by Deryck Winterton in the Daily Herald, 28 January 1955; 'The Battle over Lawrence of Arabia: Richard Aldington Defends His Book', Daily Mail, 1 February 1955.
73. The London Magazine, no. 2 (April 1955).
74. The 25-year-old Lyle was a poet and the heir to the Tate & Lyle fortune. He would later marry Anna, Campbell's younger daughter.
75. Aldington, Lawrence of Arabia, p. 183.
76. Ibid., p. 317.
77. Ibid., p. 349.
78. Ibid., p. 379.
79. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 11 February 1953, in Benkovitz, A Passionate Prodigality, p. 81.
80. Aldington, Lawrence of Arabia, p. 381.
81. Ibid., p. 247.
82. The New Republic, 21 March 1955.
83. Introduction to Mistral (London: Heinemann, 1956); Frauds (London: Heinemann, 1957); Portrait of a Rebel: The Life and Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (London: Evans Brothers, 1957).
84. Crawford, Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia, p. 206.
### 20. Private and Public Lives: Trials of Endurance, 1951-1957
1. Richard Aldington diary for 1951 (S.I.U.).
2. Richard Aldington to H.D., 9 March 1951 (Yale).
3. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 26 January 1951 (S.I.U.).
4. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 16 April 1951(S.I.U.).
5. Richard Aldington to H.D., 29 May 1951 (Yale).
6. Kershaw, The Pleasure of Their Company, pp. 112-13.
7. Dutton, Out in the Open, p. 196.
8. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 7 February 1955 (S.I.U.).
9. Richard Aldington to Denison Deasey, quoted in Dutton, Out in the Open, p. 200.
10. Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, pp. 142-43.
11. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 3 June 1952 (S.I.U.).
12. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 1 May 1952 (S.I.U.).
13. Bryher was Douglas's patron and it was at her request – and expense – that Douglas spent his final years in the villa on Capri which Bryher had bought for MacPherson and his partner, the photographer Islay de Courcy Lyons.
14. Aldington, Pinorman, p. vii; Lawrence of Arabia, p. 14.
15. Aldington, Pinorman, p. 120.
16. Ibid., p. 172. For details of the 'Magnus affair', see p. 165-166 above.
17. Richard Aldington to Rob Lyle, 24 January 1955 (NYPL).
18. Anne Chisholm, Nancy Cunard (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1979) p. 385. The Fitzgibbon review appeared in The Times Literary Supplement of 7 May 1954.
19. Nancy Cunard, Grand Man: Memories of Norman Douglas (London: Secker & Warburg, 1954).
20. Nancy Cunard, '"Bonbons" of Gall', Time and Tide, 17 April 1954.
21. Nancy Cunard's April 1954 letter to Heinemann is quoted in Benkovitz, A Passionate Prodigality, p. 137.
22. William King (1894-1958) was Keeper of Ceramics at the British Museum and a literary critic who befriended Douglas when the latter returned to England during the Second World War; he became Douglas's literary executor for a short period. The writer Harold Acton (1904-1994) was part of Douglas's circle in Florence. Like King, the Irish writer Charles Duff (1894-1966) became a friend of Douglas's during the Second World War. Arthur Johnson was an international lawyer and art collector, who owned a villa at Anacapri and came to know Douglas in his final years.
23. Time and Tide, 29 May 1954. Cunard responded in turn on 5 June 1954.
24. Frieda Ravagli to Richard Aldington, 29 March and (27?) May 1954 (S.I.U.). Three months later, Frieda modified her recollections of Douglas, writing to Aldington: 'Now about the Norman thing. After getting rid of my indignation, I feel milder about him. In one way he had a fine idea of hospitality. He was not small beer... I don't go back for a moment on what I said, but I think perhaps you are more effective if you give the devil his due.' Frieda Ravagli to Richard Aldington, 29 August 1954 (S.I.U.).
25. Eric Warman to Richard Aldington, 4 May 1954 (S.I.U.).
26. Roy Campbell to Richard Aldington, 31 May 1954 (NYPL).
27. Richard Aldington to Rob Lyle, 20 October 1954 (NYPL).
28. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 May 1956 (Victoria).
29. Richard Aldington to H.D., 29 April 1957 (Yale).
30. Aldington, Introduction to Mistral, p. 55.
31. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 13 May 1955, in Benkovitz, A Passionate Prodigality, p. 171.
32. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 11 May 1957 (S.I.U.).
33. Alexander Frere to Richard Aldington, 20 November 1956 (Rushden). William Haley was Editor of The Times from 1952 until 1966. Given Haley's admiration for much of Aldington's earlier work, it is perhaps surprising to see Frere attributing the hostile tone of the Times Literary Supplement's Pinorman and Lawrence reviews to Haley's influence.
34. The Times Literary Supplement, 8 March 1957.
35. New Statesman and Nation, 4 May 1957.
36. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 12 March 1957 (Victoria).
37. Richard Aldington to H.D., 27 February 1960 (Yale).
38. Aldington to Alan Bird, 30 September 1956, in Benkovitz, A Passionate Prodigality, p. 243.
39. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 7 July 1955, in Benkovitz, ibid., p. 188.
40. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 13 March and 9 April 1956 (S.I.U.).
41. Richard Aldington to William Dibben, 8 September 1956 (S.I.U.).
42. See Aldington, Portrait of a Rebel, p. 21, for the phrases quoted here.
43. Ibid., p. 42.
44. Ibid., p. 89.
45. Ibid., pp. 50, 92 and 94.
46. Ibid., p. 66.
47. Ibid., p. 110. The Amateur Emigrant, Stevenson's account of his voyage to America in 1879, was published in London by Eveleigh Nash & Grayson in 1895.
48. Aldington, Portrait of a Rebel, p. 178. 'The Day After Tomorrow' appeared in The Contemporary Review, April 1887.
49. Robert Louis Stevenson, 'Some Aspects of Robert Burns', Cornhill Magazine, October 1879, quoted in Aldington, Portrait of a Rebel, p. 104.
50. Aldington, Portrait of a Rebel, p. 95.
51. Ibid., p. 169.
52. Ibid., p. 207.
53. Ibid., p. 110.
54. The Times Literary Supplement, 4 October 1957.
55. The Times, 2 January 1958.
56. Daily Telegraph, 20 September 1957.
57. The Sunday Times, 6 October 1957.
58. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 15 October 1954 (S.I.U.).
59. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 18, 25 and 27 January 1956 (S.I.U.).
60. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 14 March 1956 (S.I.U.). How Dear is Life is the novel that precedes A Fox Under My Cloak in Williamson's A Chronicle of Ancient Sunlight sequence.
61. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 19 May 1956 (S.I.U.).
62. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 2 August 1956 (S.I.U.).
63. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 10 November 1956 (S.I.U.).
64. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 14 November 1956 (S.I.U.).
65. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 5 February 1957 (S.I.U.).
66. Richard Aldington to Netta Aldington, 4 April 1955 (British Library).
67. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 29 July 1956 (S.I.U.).
68. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 3 November 1956 (S.I.U.).
69. Herbert Read to Richard Aldington, 8 May 1956 (S.I.U.). The co-written book, Truth is More Sacred: A Critical Exchange on Modern Literature, would eventually be published by Routledge in 1961. The Sorrows of Priapus was published in New York by New Directions in 1957.
70. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 May 1956 (Victoria).
71. Richard Aldington to Edward Dahlberg, 8 June 1956 (Texas).
72. Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 9 May and 10 August 1956 and 12 March 1957 (Victoria).
73. Richard Aldington to Geoffrey Potocki, 20 June 1957 (S.I.U.).
74. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 25 June 1957 (S.I.U.).
75. Richard Aldington to Geoffrey Potocki, 15 February 1958 (S.I.U.).
76. Richard Aldington to H.D., 3 February 1953 (Yale).
77. Richard Aldington to Edward Nehls, 16 August 1956 (Texas). Nehls's D.H. Lawrence: A Composite Biography, consisting of reminiscences of Lawrence by those who knew him, was published in three volumes by the University of Wisconsin Press between 1957 and 1959 and included extracts from all Aldington's writings about Lawrence. The second volume was dedicated to Aldington, who also, at Nehls's invitation, wrote the foreword to the third volume.
78. Herbert Read to Richard Aldington, 10 March 1957 (S.I.U.), and Richard Aldington to Herbert Read, 12 March 1957 (Victoria). See also Richard Aldington to H.D., 17 September 1951 (Yale), and H.D. to Richard Aldington, 3 October 1951 (S.I.U.). 'The Sea Mists of Winter' appeared in The Listener on 19 May 1951.
79. Herbert Read to Richard Aldington, 8 May 1956 (S.I.U.).
80. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 27 April 1957 (S.I.U.).
81. Richard Aldington to H.D., 29 April 1957 (Yale).
82. Lawrence Durrell to Richard Aldington, 4-14 August 1958, in Ian S. MacNiven and Harry T. Moore, eds, Literary Lifelines (New York: Viking Press, 1981) p. 51.
83. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 31 January 1953 (S.I.U.).
84. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 January 1953 (Yale); Richard Aldington to Alexander Frere, 12 February 1953 (Rushden).
85. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 January 1953 (Yale).
86. See Bryher to Richard Aldington and Richard Aldington to Bryher between 10 February and 14 September 1953 (Yale). Bid Me to Live was eventually published in New York by the Dial Press in 1960.
87. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 5 May 1953 (Yale).
88. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 28 November 1953 (S.I.U.).
89. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 24 November 1953 (S.I.U.).
90. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 13 July 1954 (S.I.U.); Richard Aldington to H.D., 12 July 1954 (Yale).
91. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 19 May 1957 (Yale).
92. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 11 July 1956 (S.I.U.).
93. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 5 November 1956 (S.I.U.). Tribute to Freud was published in New York by Pantheon in 1956.
94. Richard Aldington to H.D., 18 June 1957 (Yale).
95. Richard Aldington to H.D., 15 March and 21 May 1957 (Yale).
96. Richard Aldington to H.D., 8 June 1957 (Yale).
97. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 16 June 1957 (Yale).
98. H.D. wrote her Tribute to Freud in 1954 and 1955, worked on her epic poem Helen in Egypt from 1952 to 1954, composed her roman à clef Magic Mirror in 1955 and 1956 and started work on the three poems that would eventually be published as Hermetic Definition in 1957.
99. Richard Aldington to H.D., 24 May 1957 (Yale).
100. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 8 July 1957 (Yale).
101. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 20 July 1957 (Yale).
102. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 27 June 1957 (Yale).
103. Gustave Cohen to Richard Aldington, 15 May 1957 (S.I.U.).
104. Richard Aldington to H.D., 2 June 1957 (Yale).
### 21. A Solitary Life, 1957-1961
1. See Alister Kershaw, Village to Village: Misadventures in France (Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1991) pp. 81-83.
2. Kershaw, The Pleasure of Their Company, p. 114.
3. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 29 January 1958 (S.I.U.).
4. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 31 May 1961(Yale).
5. Richard Aldington to H.D., 10 January 1958 (Yale).
6. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 28 December 1957 (S.I.U.).
7. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 29 January 1958 (S.I.U.).
8. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 21 April 1958 (S.I.U.).
9. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 4 June 1958 (S.I.U.).
10. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 13 August 1958 (S.I.U.).
11. With the exception of A Dream in the Luxembourg, all his pre-1939 UK titles had now reverted to his ownership.
12. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 3 October and 12 November 1959 (S.I.U.).
13. The Patmore solicitors had issued a writ attaching any Heinemann royalties in March 1957 and another attaching Evans royalties in February 1958. They could not access Collins royalties because of the Trust that had been set up but, since Collins had allowed Lawrence of Arabia to go out of print, there were none.
14. Alexander Frere to P.A.G. Aldington, 17 November 1959 (Rushden).
15. Lawrence Durrell to Richard Aldington, before 22 September 1959, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, p. 102.
16. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 2 November 1959, in MacNiven and Moore, ibid., p. 103.
17. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 8 October 1957 (S.I.U.). The Golden Virgin, the sixth volume of Williamson's Chronicle of Ancient Sunlight, was published in London by MacDonald and Company in 1957.
18. Henry Williamson to Richard Aldington, 16 September 1957 (S.I.U.). With reference to D.H. Lawrence: Portrait of a Genius, But..., he had told Aldington on 4 March 1951: 'I still think little knocking snips should have been left out'(S.I.U.).
19. Henry Williamson to Richard Aldington, 5 September 1960 (S.I.U.).
20. See, for example, Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 3 December 1957 ('You are a bit of a so-and-so not to write but perhaps I said something that annoyed you'), 3 March 1958 ('Where have you disappeared and why?') and 9 September 1960 ('I am very glad to hear from you after this hiatus, which doubtless was my fault for not writing') (S.I.U.).
21. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 14 April 1959 (S.I.U.).
22. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 January 1958 (Yale). For an account Aldington's 1927 affair with Jessie Capper, see Whelpton, Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover, pp. 297-299 and 307.
23. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 27 July 1958 (TCD).
24. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 15 September 1958 and 9 February 1961 (S.I.U.).
25. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 8 November 1960 (S.I.U.).
26. Thomas MacGreevy to Richard Aldington, 10 November 1958 (S.I.U.).
27. Thomas MacGreevy to Richard Aldington, 10 November 1958 (S.I.U.), and Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 15 November 1958 (TCD).
28. Thomas MacGreevy to Richard Aldington, 1 December 1959 (S.I.U.).
29. Catherine Aldington and Jacques Guillaume would marry in January 1963.
30. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 21 August 1958 (S.I.U.).
31. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 16 September 1958 (S.I.U.).
32. Catherine Aldington to Richard Aldington, 27 September 1958 (S.I.U.).
33. Catherine Aldington to Bryher, 5 September 1962 (Yale).
34. Catherine Aldington in telephone conversation with the author in July 2009; Catherine Aldington to Bryher, 27 September 1965 (Yale).
35. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 14 October 1958 (S.I.U.).
36. Richard Aldington to H.D., 24 September 1958, and to Bryher, 11 May 1959 (Yale).
37. Richard Aldington to H.D., 24 September 1958 (Yale).
38. Richard Aldington to H.D., 15 January 1959 (Yale).
39. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 4 March 1959 (S.I.U.).
40. Richard Aldington to H.D., 18 June 1959 (Yale).
41. Henry Miller, in Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, p. 78.
42. Richard Aldington to H.D., 30 July 1959 (Yale).
43. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 September 1959 (Yale).
44. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 23 September 1959 (S.I.U.).
45. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 23 September 1959 (S.I.U.), and Richard Aldington to H.D., 25 September 1959 (Yale); Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 29 September 1959 (S.I.U.).
46. Richard Aldington to H.D., 9 and 12 October 1959 (Yale).
47. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 13 October 1959 (S.I.U.).
48. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 5 October 1959 (S.I.U.).
49. H.D. to George Plank, 3 October 1959 (Yale).
50. George Plank to Bryher, 2 and 8 October 1959 (Yale).
51. George Plank to H.D., 4 October 1959 (Yale).
52. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 11 February 1961 (S.I.U.).
53. See letters from Richard Aldington to Bryher, 23 April 1959 and 25 February 1960, and to H.D., 27 February 1960 (Yale), and Ezra Pound to Richard Aldington (undated) December 1959 (Texas).
54. Richard Aldington to H.D., 10 December 1957 and 21 January 1958 (Yale).
55. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 September 1959 (Yale). H.D.'s father, Professor Charles Doolittle, was 70 years old at the time of that 1912-1913 tour of Italy.
56. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 30 October 1959 (S.I.U.).
57. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 November 1958 (Yale), and H.D. to Richard Aldington, 24 November 1958 (S.I.U.).
58. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 16 September 1958 (S.I.U.).
59. Aldington had described Moore to Bacon on 16 May 1950 as 'a somewhat brash academic go-getter'. (Yale) For the correspondence with H.D. concerning the Lawrence letters, see Richard Aldington to H.D., 22 and 30 June, 6 July and 27 August 1958 (Yale), and H.D. to Richard Aldington, 4 July 1958 (S.I.U.). The Harry Moore two-volume edition of The Collected Letters of D.H. Lawrence was published by Heinemann in 1962.
60. Richard Aldington to H.D., 30 June 1958 (Yale).
61. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 28 April 1959 (S.I.U.), and Richard Aldington to
H.D., 30 April 1959 (Yale).
62. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 3 April 1959 (S.I.U.).
63. Richard Aldington to H.D., 6 and 19 April 1959 (Yale).
64. See, for example, the letter of 6 April 1959 above, where he comments on Bryher's thoughtfulness in putting off a trip in order to support H.D. during Perdita's visit.
65. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 24 August 1960 (S.I.U.).
66. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 4 November 1959 (S.I.U.).
67. Richard Aldington to H.D., 5 November 1959 (Yale).
68. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 10 November 1959 (Yale).
69. H.D. to Ezra Pound, 16 November 1959 (Yale); H.D. to Richard Aldington, 17 November 1959 (S.I.U.).
70. H.D. to George Plank, 1 December 1959 (Yale).
71. George Plank to H.D., 27 November and 3 December 1959 (Yale).
72. Richard Aldington to H.D., 1 December 1959 (Yale); H.D. to Richard Aldington, 4 December 1959 (S.I.U.).
73. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 4 December 1959 and 16 February 1960, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, pp. 110 and 132.
74. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 18 November 1958 (S.I.U.).
75. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 18 March and 28 April 1959 (S.I.U.).
76. Richard Aldington to H.D., 18 and 24 April 1958 (Yale).
77. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 21 November and 13 December 1958 (Yale).
78. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 4 December 1959 (Yale).
79. Ezra Pound to Richard Aldington, 25 August 1959 (S.I.U.).
80. Richard Aldington to H.D., 7 September 1959 (Yale).
81. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 30 September 1959 (S.I.U.).
82. Richard Aldington to Charles Norman, 5 and 25 November 1960 (Texas). Norman's Ezra Pound: A Biography was published in New York by Macmillan in 1960; it was a further nine years before it found a UK publisher: Macdonald & Co. in 1969.
83. Richard Aldington to H.D., 13 November 1958 (Yale).
84. End to Torment was not published until 1979 (New York: New Directions).
85. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 24 November 1960, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, p. 163.
86. Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 13 December 1958, and Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 22 February 1959 (S.I.U.). The Mosleys were living in Paris in this period.
87. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 22 February 1959, and to Alister Kershaw, 23 February 1959 (S.I.U.). Mosley obtained 7.6 per cent of the votes cast in the 1959 General Election in Kensington North.
88. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 10 September 1960 (S.I.U.).
89. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 6 July 1961 (S.I.U.).
90. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 23 April 1960 (S.I.U.).
91. Richard Aldington to Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk, 8 March 1960 (S.I.U.).
92. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 12 February and 6 July 1961, in Benkovitz, A Passionate Prodigality, pp. 287 and 288.
93. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 23 February and 18 December 1953, in Benkovitz, ibid., pp. 85 and 103.
94. Richard Aldington to Alan Bird, 14 May 1960, in Benkovitz, ibid., p. 280.
95. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 13 May 1960 (S.I.U.).
96. Richard Aldington, D.H. Lawrence in Selbstzeugnissen und Bilddokumenten (Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag, 1961).
97. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 9 January 1960, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, p. 126.
98. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 6 November 1960 (S.I.U.).
99. Dutton, Out in the Open, p. 235.
100. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 30 December 1959 (S.I.U.).
101. Richard Aldington to H.D., 2 January 1960 (Yale).
102. Guest, Herself Defined, p. 325.
103. H.D. to Aldington, 15 and 28 May 1960 (S.I.U.).
104. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 18 December 1960 (S.I.U.); Richard Aldington to H.D., 30 December 1960 (Yale).
105. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 1 January 1961, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, p. 167.
106. Ibid. Les Félibres was a society founded in 1854 to promote the literature and culture of Provence. Membership was by invitation. Campbell had also been a member.
107. H.D. to Catherine Aldington, 29 December 1960 (Yale), and to Richard Aldington, 12 January 1961 (S.I.U.).
108. Richard Aldington to Alister Kershaw, 22 February 1961 (S.I.U.). Potocki's daughter, Theodora, had been adopted as a baby by T.F. Powys and his wife; Potocki himself had been a prisoner in Wormwood Scrubs at the time of her birth in 1932. Her mother was Sally Powys, wife of T.F. Powys's second son, Francis. Theodora did not meet Potocki until 1960 and for a time he moved to Dorset to be near her and her adoptive mother.
109. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 3 October 1960 (S.I.U.). It is clear from Aldington's next letter to Warman, 6 November 1960 (S.I.U.), that the latter had informed him that his own little granddaughter was equally accomplished!
110. Richard Aldington to H.D., 4 and 7 March 1961 (Yale).
111. Catherine Aldington to Bryher, 23 April 1961 (Yale).
112. Richard Aldington to H.D., 18 and 21 April 1961 (Yale).
113. On 21 April 1961 he told her: 'One gets such lovely cards here now – I long to buy you MILLIONS' (Yale).
114. Richard Aldington to H.D., 12 May 1961 (Yale).
115. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 31 May 1961(Yale).
116. Richard Aldington to H.D., 21 April 1961(Yale). The Eichmann trial had opened in Israel on 11 April 1961.
117. Richard Aldington to H.D., 25 April 1961 (Yale), and H.D. to Richard Aldington, 28 April 1961 (S.I.U.).
118. H.D. to Richard Aldington, 28 May and 4 June 1961 (S.I.U.), and Richard Aldington to H.D., 1 June 1961 (Yale).
### 22. From Tragedy to Triumph, 1961-1962
1. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 6 July 1961 (S.I.U.).
2. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 25 August 2018 (Yale).
3. Richard Aldington to Netta Aldington, 19 May 1961 (British Library).
4. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 1 October 1960 (Yale).
5. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 13 July and 7 and 9 August 1961 (Yale).
6. Richard Aldington to Eunice Gluckman, 9 August 1961 (Yale).
7. The Propédeutique was, until educational reforms in 1966, the intermediate stage in the progress towards a bachelor's degree.
8. Richard Aldington to Netta Aldington, 17 August 1961 (British Library).
9. See, for example, his letters to Warman on 29 January 1960 and 8 February and 30 May 1962, and to P.A.G. Aldington, 17 January and 28 March 1962 (S.I.U.).
10. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 13 January, 1 March and 15 July 1960 and 2 November 1961 (S.I.U.).
11. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 21 December 1961 and 17 January 1962 (S.I.U.).
12. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 6 and 19 July 1961 (S.I.U.).
13. Tony Aldington had left his first wife, Moira Osborne, in 1941 when his daughter was eight years old and his son, five; they were brought up by their mother and grandmother. Tony had three further children by his second wife, Daphne Bird, whom he married in 1946.
14. Richard Aldington to Jennifer Aldington, 30 September 1954 (private collection of Jennifer Aldington Emous).
15. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 14 and 19 August 1961, and to Norman Pearson, 29 August 1961; Catherine Aldington to Bryher, 16 August 1961 (Yale).
16. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 25 September 1961 (S.I.U.).
17. Bryher to Richard Aldington, 29 September 1961 (Yale).
18. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 2 and 21 October 1961 (Yale).
19. Thomas MacGreevy to Richard Aldington, 29 September 1961(S.I.U.).
20. Richard Aldington to Thomas MacGreevy, 11 February 1962 (TCD).
21. Lawrence Durrell to Richard Aldington, 4 October 1961, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, p. 190.
22. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 10 February 1962 (S.I.U.).
23. C.P. Snow to Richard Aldington, 22 December 1961 (S.I.U.).
24. William Haley to Richard Aldington, 5 December 1961 (S.I.U.).
25. Crawford, Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia, p. 139.
26. The Times Literary Supplement review appeared on 20 October 1961 and Liddell Hart's letter, and the reviewer's response, on 3 November 1961. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 17 April 1962 (S.I.U.).
27. Richard Aldington to Geoffrey Potocki de Montalk, 19 November 1961, and Alister Kershaw to Richard Aldington, 3 November 1961 (S.I.U.).
28. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 4 December 1961 (S.I.U.).
29. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 3 and 15 May 1962 (S.I.U.); Richard Aldington to Jennifer Aldington, 3 May 1962 (private collection of Jennifer Aldington Emous); Richard Aldington to Bryher, 16 May 1962 (Yale).
30. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 4 March 1962 (S.I.U.).
31. See letter from Richard Aldington to Netta Aldington, 7 March 1962 (British Library).
32. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 8 April 1962 (S.I.U.).
33. Richard Aldington to Henry Williamson, 17 April 1962 (S.I.U.).
34. Florence Fallas to Richard Aldington, 7 December 1958 (S.I.U.).
35. MacGreevy, in Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, p. 62.
36. Richard Aldington's Russian Diary (S.I.U.).
37. V.M. Moldavsky, 'Richard Aldington in Leningrad', Neva, no. 5 (1963) pp. 164-67 (translated by Robert J. Winter). In a letter to his brother the day before he left Sury, Aldington had written: 'After some meditation I determined to use my dress as a first mute declaration to the Russ. They are accustomed to comrade-sympathisers and road-squatters turning up in baggy pants and turtle-neck sweaters or such like proletarian garb. I have had made for me here a mild imitation of the British pseudo-gent, i.e. a would-be immaculate black jacket with small check trousers and a dark blue jacket with plain grey. The first, worn with a nylon shirt and a severe but expensive tie, should strike the right note', 15 June 1962 (S.I.U.).
38. Vsevolod Rozhdestvensky (1895-1977) was a Russian poet, who served as a war correspondent during the Second World War.
39. Richard Aldington's Russian Diary (S.I.U.).
40. Moldavsky, 'Richard Aldington in Leningrad'.
41. Richard Aldington's Russian Diary (S.I.U.). Boris Polevoi (1908-1981) was a member of the Supreme Soviet.
42. Ivy Litvinov (1899-1977) was the widow of the Russian diplomat Maxim Litvinov. A novelist and translator, she was an admirer of D.H. Lawrence and had visited Lawrence and Frieda in Tuscany in 1914.
43. Richard Aldington's Russian Diary (S.I.U.).
44. Konstantin Fedin (1892-1977) was a novelist and served as Chair of the Soviet Union of Writers from 1959 until his death in 1977.
45. Richard Aldington's Russian Diary (S.I.U.). Yekaterina Peshkova (1887-1965) was Maxim Gorky's first wife and a human rights activist during the Stalin regime.
46. Richard Aldington's Russian Diary (S.I.U.). Alexy Surkov (1899-1983) was a poet, editor and literary critic and Chair of the Soviet Writers' Union from 1953 to 1959.
47. Mikhail Urnov, in Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, pp. 158-59.
48. Quoted in Kershaw and Temple, ibid., pp. 17-18.
49. Valentin Kataev (1897-1986) was a Russian novelist and playwright.
50. Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, pp. 49-50.
51. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 14 July 1962, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, pp. 217-18.
52. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 17 and 21 July 1962 (Yale).
53. Richard Aldington to Lawrence Durrell, 14 and 19 July 1962, in MacNiven and Moore, Literary Lifelines, pp. 217-19.
54. Richard Aldington to Eric Warman, 25 July 1962 (S.I.U.).
55. Richard Aldington to P.A.G. Aldington, 15 July 1962, and to Thomas MacGreevy, 18 July 1962 (S.I.U.).
56. Richard Aldington to Bryher, 13 and 21 July 1962 (Yale).
57. Tim Aldington to Vivien Whelpton, 26 September 2018.
58. The Sunday Times, 8 July 1962.
### Afterwords
1. The Manchester Guardian, 30 July 1962.
2. The Times, 30 July 1962.
3. Daily Telegraph, 30 and 29 July 1962.
4. Herbert Read to Richard Church (undated) July 1962 (Texas).
5. Church, The Voyage Home, p. 76.
6. Irene Rathbone to Nancy Cunard, 6 August 1962 (Texas).
7. Irene Rathbone to Nancy Cunard, 3 August 1963 (Texas).
8. Irene Rathbone to Nancy Cunard, 30 September 1964 (Texas).
9. MacGreevy, in Kershaw and Temple, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait, p. 55.
10. Randall, in ibid., pp. 110-11, 121.
## Bibliography
### Works by Richard Aldington, 1930-1962
### (in chronological order)
### Poetry
A Dream in the Luxembourg (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930; London: Heinemann, 1946); Love and the Luxembourg (New York: Covici, Friede, 1930)
Movietones: Invented and Set Down by Richard Aldington, 1928-1929 (Privately printed, 1932)
The Eaten Heart (London: Chatto & Windus, 1933)
Collected Poems, 1915-1923 (London: Allen & Unwin, 1933)
The Poems of Richard Aldington (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1934)
Life Quest (London: Chatto & Windus, 1935; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1935) The Crystal World (London: Heinemann, 1937; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1938) The Complete Poems of Richard Aldington (London: Allan Wingate, 1948)
### Anthologies
Imagist Anthology, 1930 (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930)
### Prose works
Two Stories ('Deserter' and 'Lads of the Village') (London: Elkin Mathews & Marrot, 1930)
At All Costs (London: Heinemann, 1930)
Last Straws (Paris: The Hours Press, 1930)
Roads to Glory (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930; New York: Doubleday, Doran and Co., 1930; London: Imperial War Museum, 1992); Farewell to Memories (Moscow: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1963)
The Colonel's Daughter: A Novel (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1931; London: Penguin, 1939; London: The Hogarth Press, 1986)
Stepping Heavenward: A Record (Florence: G. Orioli, 1931; London: Chatto & Windus, 1931)
Soft Answers (London: Chatto Windus, 1932; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1932; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1935; London: Penguin, 1949; Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1967)
All Men Are Enemies: A Romance (London: Chatto & Windus, 1933; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1933; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1934; London: Heinemann, 1934; London: Arthur Barker, 1948)
Women Must Work: A Novel (London: Chatto & Windus, 1934; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1934; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1935)
Life of a Lady: A Play by Richard Aldington and Derek Patmore (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1936; London: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1936)
Very Heaven (London: Heinemann, 1937; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1937; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1937)
Seven Against Reeves: A Comedy-Farce (London: Heinemann, 1938; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1938; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1938; London: Penguin, 1950)
Rejected Guest: A Novel (New York: Viking Press, 1939; London: Heinemann, 1939; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1947)
The Romance of Casanova: A Novel (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1946; London: Heinemann, 1947)
### Biographies, Essays and Memoirs
Balls and Another Book for Suppression (London: E. Lahr, 1930; Privately printed, 1932)
The Squire (London: Heinemann, 1934)
D.H. Lawrence: A Complete List of His Works, Together with a Critical Appreciation (London: Heinemann, 1935)
Artifex: Sketches and Ideas (London: Chatto & Windus, 1935; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1936)
W. Somerset Maugham: An Appreciation by Richard Aldington. In Sixty-Five, by W. Somerset Maugham (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1939); also published under the title Sixty-five Short Stories (London: Heinemann, 1976)
Life for Life's Sake: A Book of Reminiscences (New York: Viking Press, 1941; London: Cassell, 1968)
The Duke: Being an Account of the Life & Achievements of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington (New York: Viking, 1943); Wellington: Being an Account of the Life & Achievements of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington (London: Heinemann, 1946)
Four English Portraits, 1801-1851 (London: Evans Bros, 1948)
The Strange Life of Charles Waterton, 1782-1865 (London: Evans Bros, 1949; New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1949)
D.H. Lawrence: Portrait of a Genius, But... (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1949; New York: Crowell-Collier, 1961)
Portrait of a Genius, But... : The Life of D.H. Lawrence, 1885-1930 (London: Heinemann, 1950)
D.H. Lawrence: An Appreciation (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950)
Pinorman: Personal Recollections of Norman Douglas, Pino Orioli and Charles Prentice (London: Heinemann, 1954)
Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot: A Lecture (Hurst, Berkshire: Peacocks Press, 1954).
A.E. Housman and W.B. Yeats: Two Lectures (Hurst, Berkshire: Peacocks
Press, 1955)
Lawrence l'Imposteur: T.E. Lawrence, the Legend and the Man (Paris: Amiot-Dumont, 1954); Lawrence of Arabia: A Biographical Inquiry (London: William Collins, 1955; Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1955; London: Four Square Books, 1957: Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1971)
Introduction to Mistral (London: Heinemann, 1956; Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1960)
Frauds (London: Heinemann, 1957)
Portrait of a Rebel: The Life and Work of Robert Louis Stevenson (London: Evans Bros, 1957)
A Tourist's Rome (Draguignan: Melissa Press, 1961)
D.H. Lawrence in Selbstzeugnissen und Bilddokumenten (Reinbek bei Hamburg:
Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag, 1961)
A Letter from Richard Aldington and a Summary Bibliography of Count Potocki's Published Works (Draguignan: Melissa Press, 1962)
### Translations
The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio (New York: Covici, Friede, 1930; London: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1930; New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1949; London: Folio Society, 1954; London: Paul Elek 1957; New York: Laurel, Dell, 1962)
Alcestis, by Euripides (London: Chatto & Windus, 1930)
Letters to the Amazon by Remy de Gourmont (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931)
Fifty Romance Lyric Poems (New York: Crosby Gaige, 1928; London: Chatto & Windus, 1931; London: Allan Wingate, 1948)
Aurélia, by Gérard de Nerval (London: Chatto & Windus, 1932)
A Wreath for San Gemignano (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1945; London: Heinemann, 1946)
Dangerous Acquaintances by Choderlos de Laclos (New York: New Directions, 1952; London: Four Square, 1962; London: Folio Society, 1962) (Aldington's translation first published, London: Routledge, 1924: New York: Dutton, 1924)
New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology (with Ames, Delano) (London: Hamlyn Publishing Group, 1959)
### Works Edited and/or Introduced
The German Prisoner, Hanley, James (Privately printed, 1930)
The Last Voyage, Hanley, James (London: William Jackson Ltd, 1931)
Apocalypse, Lawrence, D.H. (Florence: G. Orioli, 1931; New York: Viking Press, 1932; London: Martin Secker, 1932; Hamburg: The Albatross, 1932; London: Heinemann, 1972; Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1974; New York: Penguin, 1976)
Last Poems, Lawrence, D.H. (Florence: G.Orioli, 1932; New York: Viking Press, 1933; London: Martin Secker, 1933; London: Heinemann, 1935)
Selected Poems, Lawrence, D.H. (London: Martin Secker, 1934)
The Spirit of Place: An Anthology Compiled from the Prose of D.H. Lawrence (London: Heinemann, 1935, 1944)
The Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World (New York: Viking Press, 1941, 1958, 1962)
Great French Romances (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1946; London: The Pilot Press, 1946)
The Portable Oscar Wilde (New York: Viking Press, 1946; Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1977)
Selected Works of Oscar Wilde, with 12 Unpublished Letters (London: Heinemann, 1946)
Poetry of the English-Speaking World (London: Heinemann, 1947)
Selected Works of Walter Pater (London: Heinemann, 1948; New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1948)
The first Chawton edition of the novels of Jane Austen (London: Allan Wingate, 1948) (Introduction also published separately in Pasadena by Ampersand Press, 1948)
The Religion of Beauty: Selections from the Aesthetes (London: Heinemann, 1950)
Sea and Sardinia, Lawrence, D.H. (London, Heinemann, 1950; Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1953; New York: Viking Press, 1963)
Mornings in Mexico, Lawrence, D.H. (London: Heinemann, 1950)
Twilight in Italy, Lawrence, D.H. (London: Heinemann, 1950)
The White Peacock, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950; London: Heinemann, 1950)
Aaron's Rod, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950)
Kangaroo, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950; London: Heinemann, 1950)
Selected Letters of D.H. Lawrence (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950)
Selected Essays of D.H. Lawrence (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950)
Etruscan Places, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950)
The Lost Girl, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950; London: Heinemann, 1950)
The Plumed Serpent, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950; London: Heinemann, 1950)
The Trespasser (London: Heinemann, 1950; Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1960)
St Mawr and The Virgin and the Gypsy, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950)
The Woman Who Rode Away and Other Stories, Lawrence, D.H. (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950; London: Heinemann, 1950)
England, My England, Lawrence, D.H. (London: Heinemann, 1950)
The Man Who Died (London: Heinemann, 1950)
The Rainbow, Lawrence, D.H. (London: Heinemann, 1950; New York: Viking Press, 1961; Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976)
Women in Love, Lawrence, D.H. (London: Heinemann, 1954; New York: Viking Press, 1950; Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976)
Austria: A Book of Photographs (London: Anglo-Italian Publication, 1958)
Switzerland: A Book of Photographs (London: Anglo-Italian Publication, 1958)
France: A Book of Photographs (London: Anglo-Italian Publication, (1958)
Italy: A Book of Photographs (London: Anglo-Italian Publication, 1958)
D.H. Lawrence: A Composite Biography, vol. 3, Nehls, Edward (ed.) (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1959)
Famous Cities of the World: Rome (London: Hamlyn, 1960); Rome: A Book of Photographs (London: Spring Books, 1960)
Eugénie Grandet by Honoré de Balzac, trans. by Ellen Marriage (New York: Limited Editions Club, 1960; London: Curwen Press, 1960; New York: Heritage Press, 1961)
D.H. Lawrence: L'Oeuvre et la Vie, Temple, F.-J. (Paris: Seghers, 1960)
### Editions of Letters
Benkovitz, Miriam, ed., A Passionate Prodigality: Letters to Alan Bird from Richard Aldington, 1949-1962 (New York: New York Public Library, 1975)
Gates, Norman, ed., Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University Press, 1992)
MacNiven, I.S., and Moore, H.T., eds, Literary Lifelines: The Richard Aldington- Lawrence Durrell Correspondence (New York: Viking Press, 1981)
Zilboorg, Caroline, ed. with an introduction and commentary, Richard Aldington and H.D.: Their Lives in Letters (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2003)
### Editions of Others' Letters
Hollenberg, Donna Krolik, ed., Between History and Poetry: The letters of H.D. and Norman Holmes Pearson (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1997)
Lawrence, T.E., T.E. Lawrence: Letters to His Biographers Robert Graves and Liddell Hart (London: Cassell, 1963)
### Primary Sources
Arlott, John, Basingstoke Boy (London: Willow Books, 1990)
Church, Richard, The Voyage Home (London: Heinemann, 1964)
Cole, Margaret Postgate, Growing Up into Revolution (London: Longmans, 1949)
Connolly, Cyril, The Rock Pool (Paris: Obelisk Press, 1936; Oxford University Press, 1981)
Cunard, Nancy, These Were the Hours (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1969)
Doolittle, Hilda, Tribute to Freud (New York: Pantheon, 1956; Manchester: Carcanet Press, 1985)
———, End to Torment (New York: New Directions, 1979)
Dutton, Geoffrey, Out in the Open: An Autobiography (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1994)
Dutton, Ninette, Firing (Sydney: Harper Collins, 1995)
Easton, Robert, and Easton, Jane, Love and War: Pearl Harbour Through V-J Day (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991)
Kershaw, Alister, The Pleasure of Their Company (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1990)
———, Heydays (Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1991)
———, Village to Village: Misadventures in France (Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1993)
Kershaw, Alister, and Temple, F.-J., eds, Richard Aldington: An Intimate Portrait (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1965)
Lawrence, T.E., Seven Pillars of Wisdom (London: Jonathan Cape, 1935)
Orioli, Giuseppe, Adventures of a Bookseller, (London: Chatto & Windus, 1938)
Patmore, Brigit, My Friends When Young (London: William Heinemann, 1968)
Patmore, Derek, Private History: An Autobiography of the Years 1919-1939 (London: Hogarth Press, 1967)
Rathbone, Irene, Was There a Summer? (London: Constable and Co. Ltd, 1943)
Rumbold, Richard, My Father's Son (London: Jonathan Cape, 1949)
Snow, Philip, Stranger and Brother: A Portrait of C.P. Snow (London: Macmillan, 1982)
Waugh, Alec, My Brother Evelyn and Other Profiles (London: Cassell & Co., 1967)
### Secondary Sources
Alexander, Peter, Roy Campbell: A Critical Biography (Oxford University Press, 1982)
Asher, Michael, Lawrence, the Uncrowned King of Arabia (London: Viking, 1998)
Baldick, Chris, The Oxford English Literary History, Volume 10: The Modern Movement (Oxford University Press, 2005)
Blayac, Alain, and Zilboorg, Caroline, eds, Richard Aldington: Essays in Honour of His Birth, Papers from the Richard Aldington International Conference (Montpellier: Université Paul Valéry, 1992)
Brown, Malcolm, and Cave, Julia, A Touch of Genius: The Life of T.E. Lawrence (London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1988)
Chapman, Robert T., Wyndham Lewis: Fictions and Satires (London: Vision Press, 1973)
Chisholm, Anne, Nancy Cunard (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1979)
Conover, Anne, Olga Rudge and Ezra Pound:"What Thou Lovest Well..." (Newhaven: Yale University Press, 2001)
Crawford, Fred D., Richard Aldington and Lawrence of Arabia: A Cautionary Tale (Carbondale: University of Southern Illinois Press, 1998)
Cunard, Nancy, Grand Man: Memories of Norman Douglas (London: Secker & Warburg, 1954)
Cunningham, Valentine, British Writers of the Thirties (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988)
Deasey, Louisa, A Letter from Paris (London: Scribe Publications, 2018)
Doyle, Charles, Richard Aldington: A Biography (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989)
———, ed., Richard Aldington: Reappraisals (Victoria: University of Victoria Press, 1990)
Easton, Robert, Max Brand, The Big 'Westerner' (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1970)
Emeny, Richard, Ro y Campbell: Poet of Two Wars (London: Cecil Woolf, 2014)
Frere, J.R., The Early Life and Family History of A.S. Frere (2009, unpublished)
Gates, Norman T., A Checklist of the Letters of Richard Aldington (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1977)
———, ed., Richard Aldington: An Autobiography in Letters (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992)
———, The Poetry of Richard Aldington: A Critical Evaluation and an Anthology of Uncollected Poems (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1975)
Gindin, James, British Fiction in the 1930s: The Dispiriting Decade (London: Macmillan, 1992)
Graves, Robert, Lawrence and the Arabs (London: Jonathan Cape, 1927)
Guest, Barbara, Herself Defined: The Poet H.D. and Her World (London: Collins, 1985)
Harding, Jason, The Criterion: Cultural Politics and Periodical Networks in Inter-War Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002)
Harrison, John, The Reactionaries (London: Gollancz, 1966)
Hynes, Samuel, The Auden Generation: Literature and Politics in England in the 1930s (London: Bodley Head, 1976; London: Pimlico, 1992)
Kelly, Lionel, ed., Richard Aldington: Papers from the Reading SympoS.I.U.m (Reading: University of Reading, 1987)
Kempton, Daniel, and Stoneback, H.R., eds, Writers in Provence: Proceedings of the First and Second International Richard Aldington Conference (2003)
———, New Places: Proceedings of the Third International Richard Aldington Conference (2005)
———, Locations and Dislocations: Proceedings of the Fourth International Richard Aldington Conference (2008)
———, Aldington, Pound and the Imagists at Brunnenburg: Selected Essays from the Sixth International Richard Aldington/Second International Imagism Conference (2012)
(All published at Les-Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer and New Paltz: Gregau Press and International Richard Aldington Society)
Kershaw, Alister, ed., Richard Aldington: Selected Critical Writings, 1928-1960 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1970)
Kershaw, Alister, and Temple, F.-J., eds, Richard Aldington, An Intimate Portrait (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1965)
King, James, The Last Modern: A Life of Herbert Read (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1990)
Kittredge, Selwyn, The Literary Career of Richard Aldington (dissertation, 2 volumes) (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1976)
Klaidman, Stephen, Sydney and Violet: Their Life with T.S. Eliot, Proust, Joyce and the Excruciatingly Irascible Wyndham Lewis (New York: Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2013)
Korda, Michael, Hero: The Life and Legend of Lawrence of Arabia (London: J.R. Books, 2011)
Liddell Hart, B.H., T.E. Lawrence in Arabia and After (London: Jonathan Cape, 1934)
Lucas, F.L., 'English Literature', in Wright, Harold, ed., University Studies, Cambridge 1933 (London: Ivor Nicholson & Watson, 1933)
MacGreevy, Richard Aldington: An Englishman (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931)
MacPhail, Andrew, Three Persons (London: John Murray, 1929)
Moody, A. David, Ezra Pound: Poet: A Portrait of the Man and his Work: Volume II: The Epic Years, 1921-1939 (Oxford University Press, 2014)
———, Ezra Pound: Poet: A Portrait of the Man and his Work: Volume III: The Tragic Years, 1939-1972 (Oxford University Press, 2015)
Morgan, Louise, Writers at Work, (London: Chatto & Windus, 1931)
Nash, Andrew, 'Literary Culture and Literary Publishing in Interwar Britain: A View from Chatto and Windus', in Eliot, Simon, Nash, Andrew, and Willison, Ian, eds, Literary Culture and the Material Book (London: British Library, 2007) pp. 323-42
Nutting, Anthony, Lawrence of Arabia (London: Hollis & Carter, 1961)
O'Keeffe, Paul, Some Sort of Genius: A Life of Wyndham Lewis (London: Jonathan Cape, 2000)
Richards, Vyvyan, Portrait of T.E. Lawrence (London: Jonathan Cape, 1936)
Schreibman, Susan, ed., The Life and Work of Thomas MacGreevy (London: Bloomsbury, 2013)
Smith, G. Eliot, Human History (London: Jonathan Cape, 1930)
Smith, R., Richard Aldington (London: Twayne, 1977)
Snow, C.P., Richard Aldington: An Appreciation (London: Heinemann, 1938)
Swinnerton, Frank, The Georgian Literary Scene, 1910-1935 (London: Radius/ Hutchinson, 1935)
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Usborne, Karen, Elizabeth: The Author of 'Elizabeth and Her German Garden' (London: Bodley Head, 1986)
Wilkinson, David, The Death of a Hero: The Quest for First World War Poet Richard Aldington's Berkshire Retreat (Barnsley: Pen & Sword, 2016)
Zilboorg, Caroline: 'Irene Rathbone: The Great War and Its Aftermath', in Quinn, Patrick, ed., Recharting the Thirties (London: Associated University Presses, 1996)
### Journal Articles
Benkowitz, Miriam, 'Nine for Reeves: Letters from Richard Aldington', Bulletin of the New York Public Library, vol. 69, no. 6 (June 1965)
Crawford, Fred D., 'Misleading Accounts of Aldington and H.D.', English Literature in Transition, 1880-1920, vol. 30, no. 1 (1987) pp. 49-67
Fox, C.J., 'On the Line: Aldington of the Referee', London Magazine, vol. 25, nos. 9 and 10 (December 1985/January 1986) pp. 72-81
Moldavsky, V. M., 'Richard Aldington in Leningrad', Neva, no. 5 (1963) pp. 164-67, trans. by Robert J. Winter
Steele, Stephen, and Chang, Heesok, 'Modernism at the Margins: Richard Aldington's Letters to Douglas Goldring (1932-1946)', Modern Language Studies, vol. 35, no. 2 (Autumn 2005) pp. 22-55
Thatcher, David S., 'Richard Aldington's Letters to Herbert Read', The Malahat Review, no. 15 (July 1970) pp. 5-44
## Index
Aldington, Catherine (Catha) (1938-2010), birth, , -; early years in United States, -, -, ; in Paris, , , ; grows up in the south of France, -, , , , ; and her mother's departure, ; lives in Montpellier, , , -, ; educational performance, , -, , , ; visits her mother in London, , ; relationships with her parents, , , , -, , -; relationship with Jacques Guillaume, , , ; Bryher's support for, -; meets H.D., ; resides in the Camargue, , ; visits Rome, ; confides in H.D., ; final meeting with H.D., ; visits USSR, -
Aldington, Hilda (see H.D.)
Aldington, Jennifer (b. 1933), ,
Aldington, Jessie May (May) (1874-1953), -, , , , , , , -,
Aldington, Margery (see Gilbert, Margery Lyon)
Aldington, Netta (née McCulloch) (1911-1977), marries Michael Patmore, ; affair with Aldington, , -; -, ; divorce from Patmore, ; inherits money, ; response to life in the United States, , , , , , , , , ; in Paris, , ; reactions to life in the south of France, , -; leaves her family, , -; and lovers, -; later correspondence with Aldington, , , -; holidays with Aldington in France, -, -; others' impressions of, , -, , -
Aldington, Paul Anthony Glynne (Tony) (1910-1980), , , , , , , , -
Aldington, Patricia le Gros (1908-1995), , , ,
Aldington, Richard Edward Godfree (1892-1962), relationship with Brigit Patmore, -; visits Tunisia and Algeria, -; life and friendships in Paris, -; correspondence with H.D., 1930-1932, -; life and friendships in the south of France, -; travelling and friendships in Italy, -; relationship with Irene Rathbone, -; as reviewer on the Sunday Referee, , , , , , , -; in Spain and Portugal, -, -; relationship with Eunice Black (later, Eunice Gluckman), -; correspondence with Marjorie Pollard, -; visits Austria, -, ; injury in car accident, -; visits Tobago, -; first visit to United States, -; affair with Netta Patmore, , -; divorce and remarriage, -; resides in the south of France, -; visits Switzerland, ; birth of daughter and reactions to parenthood, -, -; travels to United States and resides in New York, Rhode Island and Connecticut, -; correspondence with H.D., 1939-1946, -, , ; resides in Florida, -; visits Taos, -; works as screenwriter in Hollywood, -; visits Jamaica, -; returns to France, -; correspondence with H.D. (1946-1961), -, , , , , -, -, , , -, , , , -, , ; returns to the Côte des Maures, -, break-up of second marriage, -; resides in Montpellier, -, -; and 'T.E. Lawrence saga', -; moves to Sury-en-Vaux, -; visits Switzerland for health check, ; returns to Switzerland, ; visits Rome and Venice, , -; concludes writing career, ; visits USSR, -; death, ; attitudes to Britain, France, Italy, the United States and USSR, , , , -, -, , -, -, , , , -, -, -, , , , , , , , -, , -; response to Second World War, , -, ; and Ezra Pound, -, -, , , , -, -, -, -, -; family relationships, , , , -, -, , -; physical and mental health, xx, , -, -, -, , -, , , , -, -, , , , , ; loyalty to D.H. Lawrence, , , , , , -, -, , , ; philosophical outlook, -, , , -, , ; reputation and relationship with publishers, critics, reviewers and the reading public, xx, -, -, , , -, -, , , -, , -, , , , -, -, -, -, -, , , -, -; sexual experience and views on sex, , , , -, -, , , -, -, , ; importance of relationship with H.D., , , -, , -, , , -, -, -, , , - Works (1930-1962)
Poetry:
Complete Poems, , , , -
Crystal World, The, , -, -
Life Quest, -,
Prose:
All Men Are Enemies, , , -
Colonel's Daughter, The, , , -
Frauds, -
Rejected Guest, , -
Roads to Glory, , , -
Romance of Casanova, The, , ,
Seven Against Reeves, -
Soft Answers, , -
Very Heaven, , -,
Women Must Work, , , -
Biographies, memoirs and collections of essays:
Artifex, -, , ,
Duke, The, -, , -, 350 (n. 42)
Four English Portraits, -, -, -
Introduction to Mistral, -
Lawrence of Arabia, -, -, -
Life for Life's Sake, , , -, , , 352 (n. 36)
Pinorman, , , -,
Portrait of a Genius, But..., -,
Portrait of a Rebel, -
Strange Life of Charles Waterton,
The, , , -
Works edited and/or introduced:
D.H. Lawrence, various works, -, , , , ,
Jane Austen,
Oscar Wilde, -, -, -
Religion of Beauty, The, -, , -, , -,
Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World, The, , , , , -, , 353 (n. 21)
Walter Pater, , , -, , , -, -
Aldington, Timothy (b. 1936), , -
Amery, Leopold Charles (Leo) (1873-1955), , ,
Arlen, Michael (Dikran Kouyoumdjian) (1895-1956), , , , -, ,
Arlott, John (1914-1991), , , , ,
Arnim, Elizabeth von (1866-1941), ,
Bacon, Leonard (1887-1954), , -, , -, , , , , , ,
Beckett, Samuel (1906-1989), -,
Bird, Alan (1925-2006), ,
Black, Eunice (1910-1994), , -, , -
Blunden, Edmund (1896-1974), ,
Bonham Carter, Mark (1922-1994), -,
Bryher (Winifred Ellerman) (1894-1983), xx, , -, , , -, , , -, -, , -, -, -, -, , , ,
Campbell, Roy (1901-1957), , , , -, -, , , -, -
Canterbury Literary Society,
Capper, Jessie (1892-1958), , , ,
Chatto & Windus, publishers, , , -, , , , , -, , , -
Church, Henry (1880-1947), , , , 331 (n. 13)
Church, Richard (1893-1972), , , , , -, -, -, , , 334 (n. 10), 356 (n. 13)
Churchill, Winston Leonard Spencer (Sir) (1874-1965), -,
Cohen, Gustave (1879-1958), , , -, , -
Colin, Rosica (d. 1983),
Collins, William (1900-1976), , ,
Collins, publishers, -, -, ,
Cournos, John (1881-1966), xix,
Covici, Friede, publishers, , 339 (n. 4)
Covici, Pascal (1885-1964),
Coward, Noel (1899-1973), ,
Crickmay, Edward (dates unknown), , ,
Criterion, The, , , , , -, , , , , , , , , , 332 (n. 7)
Cunard, Nancy (1896-1965), -, -, , , , , 345 (n. 62)
Dahlberg, Edward (1900-1977), -
Daily Express, , ,
Daily Herald,
Daily Mail, , , , , , , ,
Daily Mirror,
Daily Telegraph, , , , , , , , , -
Deasey, William Denison (1922-1984), -, -, , -, -, , , 356 (n. 16)
Dibben, William (dates unknown), , -, , ,
Dobrée, Bonamy (1891-1974), xix, , , 332 (n. 6)
Dobrée, Valentine (1894-1974), ,
Doolittle, Hilda (see H.D.)
Doubleday, Doran, publishers, , -, , 339 (n. 4)
Doubleday, Nelson (1889-1949), , , , , , ,
Douglas, George Norman (1868-1952), , , -, , , , , , -, , -, 369 (n. 13, n. 24)
Duell, Charles Halliwell (1906-1970), , ,
Duell, Sloan and Pearce, publishers, , , , , , , , ,
Durrell, Lawrence (1912-1990), , , , , , , , , ,
Dutton, Geoffrey Piers Henry (1922-1998), -, , , -, , -, -, ,
Eliot, Thomas Stearns (1888-1965), xix, , , -, -, -, , , , , , , , , 332 (n. 7)
Ellerman, Winifred (see Bryher)
Ervine, St John Greer (1883-1971), -
Eskell, Bertram (1886-1952), ,
Evening Standard, -, ,
Everyman, , -, ,
Fallas, Carl (1885-1962), , , , ,
Fallas, Florence (1892-1965),
Faulkner, William Cuthbert (1897-1962), ,
Faust, Frederick Schiller (1892-1944), -
Flint, Frank Stuart (1885-1960), xix, , , ,
Ford, Ford Madox (1873-1939), , -
Frere, Alexander Stewart (1896-1984), interwar friendship with Aldington, , -, , , , , , , , -, , , ; personality and background, -, 333 (n. 19); problematic relationship with Patmores, -; reactions to Aldington's departure from Chatto and Windus, -; involvement in Netta's affair with Aldington, -; visits Villa Koechlin (1937), ; family evacuated to United States, ; postwar professional and personal relationship with Aldington, -, , -, , , , -, -, , , , -, , , -, , , -, -
Garnett, David (1892-1981), , , ,
Gilbert, Margery Lyon (née Aldington) (1898-1985), , , , -
Glover, John Halcott (Hal) (1877-1949), , , , , -, -, , -, , , , , -, , , , 346 (n. 11), 354 (n. 15)
Gluckman, Eunice (see Black)
Goldring, Douglas (1887-1960), ,
Graves, Robert von Ranke (1895-1985), , , , ,
Gribble, George Dunning (1882-1956), , , , , , , ,
Gyde, Arnold (dates unknown), , ,
Haden-Guest, Stephen (1902-1974),
Haley, William (Sir) (1901-1987), , , , , 369 (n. 33)
Hanley, James (1897-1985), ,
H.D. (Hilda Aldington) (1886-1961), correspondence with Aldington (1930-1932), -; meets Aldington in Florence, -; meets Netta Patmore, ; divorce, -, -; correspondence with Aldington (1939-1946), -, , ; postwar breakdown and residence in Klinik Brunner, , , , , ; correspondence with Aldington (1946-1961), -, , , , , -, -, , , -, , , , -, , ; residence in hotels in Lausanne and Lugano, ; visited by Aldington, , ; visits United States, , -; moves to Zurich hotel, ; has stroke, , ; death, ; nature and importance of relationship with Aldington, , , -, , -, , , -, -, -, , , -; relationship with Bryher, , , , , , -
WORKS
Bid Me to Live, , ,
End to Torment,
Selected Poems (1957),
Sword Went Out to Sea, The, , 355 (n. 39)
Tribute to Freud,
Heinemann, publishers, xx, , , , , , , -, -, -, , , -, , , , , ,
Heydt, Erich (1920-1991), , , ,
Hilbery, (George) Malcolm (1883-1965), , , -
Holroyd-Reece, John (the Bird) (1897-1969), , -, 355 (n. 49)
Hours Press, The, publishers, -, -
Huxley, Aldous Leonard (1894-1963), -, , , , , , , -, , , , 333 (n. 11)
Illustrated,
John O' London's Weekly, , ,
Johnson, Malcolm (1903-1958), , , ,
Kennington, Celandine (1886-1975), , , ,
Kennington, Eric (1888-1960), , ,
Kershaw, Alister (1921-1995), , -, , -; marriage to Patsy Wright, ; moves to Paris, , ; assists Aldington, , -, -, , , , ; memories of Villa Aucassin years, -; opinion of Richard Church, ; friendship with Denison Deasey, ; meets Roy Campbell, ; meets Henry Williamson, -; flirtation with Anna Campbell, ; proposes T.E. Lawrence biography to Aldington, -; concerns about T.E. Lawrence biography, -; relationship with Aldington tested by T.E. Lawrence biography, , ; memories of Aldington at Montpellier, ; separation from Patsy, , -; generosity towards Aldington, , ; marries Sheila Sanders, ; buys Maison Sallé, ; facilitates renewed contact between Aldington and MacGreevy, ; friendship with the Mosleys, , ; birth of Sylvain, ; visits to Maison Sallé, , , , , ; last meeting with Aldington, -; visited by Rathbone, ; (with Jacques Temple) compiles An Intimate Portrait,
Lawrence, Arnold Walter (1900-1991), and Seven Pillars of Wisdom Trust, -; and Basil Liddell Hart, ; and the 'Lawrence Bureau',
Lawrence, David Herbert (1885-1930), Aldington's loyalty towards and admiration for, , -, , , , , -, , ; and publishers, , , , , -; affinities with Aldington, -; influence on Aldington, , -, -; H.D. and, , -; at Kiowa Ranch, , -; Aldington's New Mexico reflections on, -; and Magnus affair, as portrayed by Aldington, -, ; Aldington's conflicted feelings about, -, ; Aldington's capacity for detachment from, ; Read's view on, ; Temple's admiration for, -; resemblance of R.L. Stevenson to, -
Lawrence, Frieda (1879-1956), visits Florence, , , ; member of Canterbury Literary Society, ; visited in New Mexico by Aldington, -, ; approves Aldington's D.H. Lawrence biography, ; views of Pinorman and Norman Douglas, , 369 (n. 24); death of,
Lawrence, Thomas Edward (1888-1935), Aldington's plans for biography of, -; Aldington's developing concerns about biography of, -; -; illegitimacy of, -, 364 (n. 4); and credibility of own accounts, -; Henry Williamson's admiration for, -; friends of, -, -; and Basil Liddell Hart, -; ; and the 'offer of Egypt', -, , , ; Aldington's case against, xx, -; and reviewers of Aldington biography of, -; and impact of biography of on Aldington's reputation, ; -, ; Anthony Nutting biography of,
Lewis, Percy Wyndham (1884-1957), , , , , , , , , , ,
Liddell Hart, Basil Henry (Sir) (1895-1970), , -,
Listener, The, ,
Lloyd, Alexander (Baron) (1912-1985), ,
London Magazine, ,
Lowenfels, Walter (1897-1976), , -, , ,
Lyle, Rob (1930-?), , , 368 (n. 74)
MacGreevy, Thomas (1893-1967), , -, , , -, -, , , , , , , , , , -, , -, , -, , -, -, -, 331 (n. 13 and n. 16)
MacPherson, Kenneth (1902-1971), -, , , 369 (n. 13)
Magnus, Charles Maurice (1876-1920), -,
Manchester Evening News, The, ,
Manchester Guardian, The, , , ,
Manuel, Alvin George (1908-1976), , , , , ,
Maugham, William Somerset (1874-1965), , , , ,
McCarthy, Desmond (1887-1952), ,
Miller, Henry (1891-1980), -
Montalk, Geoffrey Potocki de (Count) (1903-1997), -, , , -, , 376 (n. 108)
Moore, Harry T. (1908-1981), , , , 359 (n. 35), 374 (n. 59)
Morgan, Louise (see Theis) Morning Post, The,
Mortimer, Raymond (1895-1980), , , , 363 (n. 61)
Mosley, Sir Oswald (1896-1980), , -, , 375 (n. 87)
Muggeridge, Malcolm (1903-1990), , , , , 356 (n. 37)
Namier, Lewis (Sir) (1888-1960), ,
Nehls, Edward (1915-1964), , -, 371 (n. 77)
News Chronicle, ,
New Statesman and Nation, , , , , , , ,
Norman, Charles (1904-1996), -, 375 (n. 82)
Observer, The, , ,
Orioli, Giuseppe (Pino) (1884-1942), , -, , , , , , , -, , 334 (n. 16)
Parsons, Ian (1906-1980), , , , ,
Patmore, Brigit (Ethel Elizabeth Morrison-Scott) (1882-1965), , , , , , -, , , -, , , -,
Patmor e, Derek (1908-1972), , , -, , -, , ,
Patmore, Michael (1910-1988), -, , -,
Pearson, Norman Holmes (1909-1975), , ,
Pinker, Ralph (1900-1959), -, , , , , -, , -336 (n.1)
Plank, George Wolfe (1883-1965), , , , -,
Poetry,
Poetry Review,
Politzer, Ronald (1907-1964), -,
Pollard, Marjorie (1904-1962), -,
Potocki de Montalk, Geoffrey (see Montalk, Geoffrey Potocki de)
Pound, Dorothy (1886-1973), , , 338 (n. 49)
Pound, Ezra (1885-1971), , , , , , , -, -, , , , , -, , -, , , -, -, 332 (n. 1), 338 (n. 49), 351 (n. 53), 363 (n. 64)
Powell, Lawrence Clark (1906-2001), ,
Prentice, Charles (1892-1949), , , -, -, , -, , , , , , -, , , , , , , -, -, , , -,
Preston, William Edward Hayter (1891-1964), ,
Pryce-Jones, Alan (1908-2000), ,
Punch, ,
Randall, Alec (Sir) (1892-1977), , , , ,
Rathbone, Irene (1892-1980), -, , -, , , 345 (n. 62), 346 (n. 65 and n. 66)
Ravagli, Angelo (1891-1976), -,
Raymond, Harold (dates unknown), , , , , -
Read, Herbert (Sir) (1893-1968), xix, , -, -, , , -, , , ,
Reeves, John Morris (James) (1909-1978),
Remarque, Erich (1898-1970),
Rudge, Olga (1895-1996), , , 332 (n. 1), 338 (n. 49)
Russell, Peter (1921-2003),
Schiff, Sydney (Stephen Hudson) (1868-1944), , , , 337 (n. 28), 350 (n. 30)
Shaw, Charlotte (1857-1943), -
Sitwell, Osbert (Sir) (1892-1969), , , , , , 349 (n. 1)
Slonimsky, Henry (1884-1970), -, , -, , -, , ,
Snow, Charles Percy (Baron) (1905-1980), xx, , ,
Spectator, The, , , ,
Storrs, Ronald (Sir) (1881-1955), , , , , 365 (n. 13)
Straus, Ralph (1882-1950), , , ,
Sunday Chronicle, , 367 (n. 64)
Sunday Referee, , , , , , , , , , , -, , -, , 335 (n. 20), 367 (n. 64)
Sunday Times, The,
Taylor, Rachel Annand (1876-1960), -,
Temple, Frédéric-Jacques (1921-), -, -, ,
Theis, Louise Morgan (1885-1964), , , , , 346 (n. 62)
Time and Tide, ,
Times, The, , , , , , , , , , , , , 369 (n. 33)
Times Literary Supplement (TLS), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , -, , , 361 (n. 76)
Titus, Edward (1870-1952), -, 331 (n. 8)
Urnov, Mikhail Vasilievich (1909-1993), -, , -
Viking Press, publishers, -, , , , , , , , , 339 (n. 4)
Warman, Eric (1904-1992), , , , -, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , -, , , , , , , 341 (n. 26), 376 (n. 109)
Waugh, Alec (1898-1981), , -, -,
Wells, Herbert George (1866-1946), , , , ,
Willert, Paul (dates unknown), , ,
Williamson, Henry (1895-1977), , -, , -, , , , , , 373 (n. 20)
Zhantieva, Dilyara (1906-1975), -, ,
Also by Vivien Whelpton:
## RICHARD ALDINGTON
### Poet, Soldier and Lover
### 1911-1929
Revised Edition
The story of Richard Aldington, outstanding Imagist poet and author of the bestselling war novel, Death of a Hero (1929), takes place against the backdrop of some of the most turbulent and creative years of the twentieth century.
Vivien Whelpton provides a remarkably detailed and sensitive portrayal of the writer from early adolescence. His life as a stalwart of the pre-war London literary scene, as a soldier, and in the difficult aftermath of the First World War is deftly rendered through a careful and detailed analysis of the novels, poems and letters of the writer himself and his close circle of acquaintance. The complexities of London's Bohemia, with its scandalous relationships, social grandstanding and incredible creative output, are masterfully untangled, and the spotlight placed firmly on the talented group of poets christened by Ezra Pound as 'Imagistes'. The author demonstrates profound psychological insight into Aldington's character and childhood in her nuanced analysis of his post-war survivor's guilt, and consideration of the three most influential women in his life: his wife, the gifted American poet, H.D. (Hilda Doolittle); Dorothy Yorke, the woman he left her for; and Brigit Patmore, his brilliant and fascinating older mistress.
Richard Aldington: Poet, Soldier and Lover vividly reveals Aldington's warm and passionate nature and the vitality which characterised his life and works, concluding with his triumphant personal and literary resurrection with the publication of Death of a Hero.
234x156mm / 471pp / Published: January 2014
Paperback ISBN: 978 0 7188 9546 4 / ePub ISBN: 978 0 7188 4797 5
Kindle ISBN: 978 0 7188 4798 2 / PDF ISBN: 978 0 7188 4796 8
1. Cover
2. Title
3. Copyright
4. Dedication
5. Contents
6. List of Illustrations
7. Acknowledgements
8. Introduction
9. Part One The Wanderer 1930-1936
1. 1. A Sociable Life: Travel, Friendship and Patronage, 1930-1931
2. 2. A Sociable Life: France, 1930-1933
3. 3. A Sociable Life: Italy - Further Friendships, 1930-1932
4. 4. The Public Face: Critic and Satirist
5. 5. The Public Face: Elegist and Romantic
6. 6. The Social Life Fragments, 1932-1936
7. 7. The Public Face: Reviewer, Philosopher and Essayist
8. 8. The Private Life: Leading a Double Life, 1930-1936
9. 9. The Private Life: Meltdown, 1936-1937
10. Part Two The Exile 1937-1950
1. 10. Divorce, 1937-1938
2. 11. A Crystal World? 1937-1939
3. 12. The New World, Again, 1939-1942
4. 13. A New Life: Hollywood, 1942-1946
5. 14. The Public Face: Novelist, Biographer, Memoirist 161 and Anthologist
11. Part Three The Recluse 1951-1962
1. 15. Back to the Old World, 1946-1947
2. 16. The Sociable Life: Paradise Regained - and Lost, 1947-1949
3. 17. The Public Face: The Old Loyalties
4. 18. The Private Life: Crisis, 1950
5. 19. The Public Face: Disaster
6. 20. Private and Public Lives: Trials of Endurance, 1951-1957
7. 21. A Solitary Life, 1957-1962
8. 22. From Tragedy to Triumph, 1961-1962
12. Afterwords
13. Notes
14. Bibliography
15. Index
16. Richard Aldington
17. Back Cover
## Richard Aldington
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"redpajama_set_name": "RedPajamaC4"
} | 9,381 |
{"url":"https:\/\/socratic.org\/questions\/how-do-you-find-d-2y-dx-2-given-x-2-xy-y-2-1","text":"# How do you find (d^2y)\/(dx^2) given x^2+xy-y^2=1?\n\nOct 28, 2016\n\n$y ' ' \\left(x\\right) = \\pm \\frac{10}{5 {x}^{2} - 4} ^ \\left(\\frac{3}{2}\\right)$\n\n#### Explanation:\n\nCalling\n\n$f \\left(x , y \\left(x\\right)\\right) = {x}^{2} + x y \\left(x\\right) - y {\\left(x\\right)}^{2} - 1 = 0$\n\n$\\frac{\\mathrm{df}}{\\mathrm{dx}} = 2 x + y \\left(x\\right) - 2 y \\left(x\\right) y ' \\left(x\\right) = 0$\n\nsolving for $y ' \\left(x\\right)$\n\n$y ' \\left(x\\right) = - \\frac{2 x + y \\left(x\\right)}{x - 2 y \\left(x\\right)}$\n\ncomputing now\n\nd\/dx((df)\/dx) =2 + 2 y'(x) - 2 y'(x)^2 + x y''(x) - 2 y(x) y''(x)=0 solving for $y ' ' \\left(x\\right)$\n\n$y ' ' \\left(x\\right) = \\frac{10 \\left({x}^{2} + x y \\left(x\\right) - y {\\left(x\\right)}^{2}\\right)}{x - 2 y \\left(x\\right)} ^ 3$ after substituting $y ' \\left(x\\right)$\n\nFinally substituting $y \\left(x\\right) = \\frac{1}{2} \\left(x \\pm \\sqrt{5 {x}^{2} - 4}\\right)$ we obtain\n\n$y ' ' \\left(x\\right) = \\pm \\frac{10}{5 {x}^{2} - 4} ^ \\left(\\frac{3}{2}\\right)$","date":"2021-07-27 11:52:00","metadata":"{\"extraction_info\": {\"found_math\": true, \"script_math_tex\": 0, \"script_math_asciimath\": 0, \"math_annotations\": 0, \"math_alttext\": 0, \"mathml\": 0, \"mathjax_tag\": 11, \"mathjax_inline_tex\": 1, \"mathjax_display_tex\": 0, \"mathjax_asciimath\": 1, \"img_math\": 0, \"codecogs_latex\": 0, \"wp_latex\": 0, \"mimetex.cgi\": 0, \"\/images\/math\/codecogs\": 0, \"mathtex.cgi\": 0, \"katex\": 0, \"math-container\": 0, \"wp-katex-eq\": 0, \"align\": 0, \"equation\": 0, \"x-ck12\": 0, \"texerror\": 0, \"math_score\": 0.9777782559394836, \"perplexity\": 10198.768471356314}, \"config\": {\"markdown_headings\": true, \"markdown_code\": true, \"boilerplate_config\": {\"ratio_threshold\": 0.18, \"absolute_threshold\": 10, \"end_threshold\": 5, \"enable\": true}, \"remove_buttons\": true, \"remove_image_figures\": true, \"remove_link_clusters\": true, \"table_config\": {\"min_rows\": 2, \"min_cols\": 3, \"format\": \"plain\"}, \"remove_chinese\": true, \"remove_edit_buttons\": true, \"extract_latex\": true}, \"warc_path\": \"s3:\/\/commoncrawl\/crawl-data\/CC-MAIN-2021-31\/segments\/1627046153391.5\/warc\/CC-MAIN-20210727103626-20210727133626-00129.warc.gz\"}"} | null | null |
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