Category Archives: Prints

Galileo’s Dialogue

Frontispiece of Galileo Galilei's Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems,1632

Frontispiece of Galileo Galilei’s Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems,1632.

Galileo’s Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems was first published in 1632, and the following year he was suspected of heresy by the Inquisition and sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of his life. He was ordered to recite Psalms each week for three years and, of course, to forget the notion that the sun was the center of the solar system. His book was placed on a forbidden list until 1835, and it took 300 years for the Roman Catholic Church to admit he was correct and clear his name.

Human progress and the expansion of knowledge still face such obstacles around the world from religious dogma, political and economic interests, and willful ignorance. Recently, however, the scientific community and the interested world at large were rewarded when proof finally came that gravitational waves, predicted a hundred years ago by Albert Einstein in his general theory of relativity, actually exist. So, with this new knowledge, Galileo, considered by Einstein to be the father of modern physics and science in general, is once more vindicated.

The following section of Galileo’s Dialogue is taken from The World’s Greatest Books, Vol. XV, Science edited by Arthur Mee and J.A. Hammerton, published 1910. The dialogue is between three men, with Salviatus acting as the voice of Galileo himself who explains the solar system to his two colleagues.

Does the Earth Move

Salviatus: Now, let Simplicius propound those doubts which dissuade him from believing that the earth may move, as the other planets, round a fixed centre.

Simplicius: The first and greatest difficulty is that it is impossible both to be in a centre and to be far from it. If the earth move in a circle it cannot remain in the centre of the zodiac; but Aristotle, Ptolemy and others have proved that it is in the centre of the zodiac.

Salviatus: There is no question that the earth cannot be in the centre of a circle round whose circumference it moves. But tell me what centre do you mean?

Simplicius: I mean the centre of the universe, of the whole world, of the starry sphere.

Salviatus: No one has ever proved that the universe is finite and figurative; but granting that it is finite and spherical, and has therefore a centre, we have still to give reasons why we should believe that the earth is at its centre.

Simplicius: Aristotle has proved in a hundred ways that the universe is finite and spherical.

Salviatus: Aristotle’s proof that the universe was finite and spherical was derived essentially from the consideration that it moved; and seeing that centre and figure were inferred by Aristotle from its mobility, it will be reasonable if we endeavour to find from the circular motions of mundane bodies the centre’s proper place. Aristotle himself came to the conclusion that all the celestial spheres revolve round the earth, which is placed at the centre of the universe. But tell me, Simplicius, supposing Aristotle found that one of the two propositions must be false, and that either the celestial spheres do not revolve or that the earth is not the centre round which they revolve, which proposition would he prefer to give up?

Simplicius: I believe that the Peripatetics——

Salviatus: I do not ask the Peripatetics, I ask Aristotle. As for the Peripatetics, they, as humble vassals of Aristotle, would deny all the experiments and all the observations in the world; nay, would also refuse to see them, and would say that the universe is as Aristotle writeth, and not as Nature will have it; for, deprived of the shield of his authority, with what do you think they would appear in the field? Tell me, therefore, what Aristotle himself would do.

Simplicius: To tell you the truth, I do not know how to decide which is the lesser inconvenience.

Salviatus: Seeing you do not know, let us examine which would be the more rational choice, and let us assume that Aristotle would have chosen so. Granting with Aristotle that the universe has a spherical figure and moveth circularly round a centre, it is reasonable to believe that the starry orbs move round the centre of the universe or round some separate centre?

Simplicius: I would say that it were much more reasonable to believe that they move with the universe round the centre of the universe.

Salviatus: But they move round the sun and not round the earth; therefore the sun and not the earth is the centre of the universe.

Simplicius: Whence, then, do you argue that it is the sun and not the earth that is the centre of the planetary revolutions?

Salviatus: I infer that the earth is not the centre of the planetary revolutions because the planets are at different times at very different distances from the earth. For instance, Venus, when it is farthest off, is six times more remote from us than when it is nearest, and Mars rises almost eight times as high at one time as at another.

Simplicius: And what are the signs that the planets revolve round the sun as centre?

Salviatus: We find that the three superior planets—Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn—are always nearest to the earth when they are in opposition to the sun, and always farthest off when they are in conjunction; and so great is this approximation and recession that Mars, when near, appears very nearly sixty times greater than when remote. Venus and Mercury also certainly revolve round the sun, since they never move far from it, and appear now above and now below it.

Sagredus: I expect that more wonderful things depend on the annual revolution than upon the diurnal rotation of the earth.

Salviatus: YOU do not err therein. The effect of the diurnal rotation of the earth is to make the universe seem to rotate in the opposite direction; but the annual motion complicates the particular motions of all the planets. But to return to my proposition. I affirm that the centre of the celestial convolutions of the five planets—Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury, and likewise of the earth—is the sun.

As for the moon, it goes round the earth, and yet does not cease to go round the sun with the earth. It being true, then, that the five planets do move about the sun as a centre, rest seems with so much more reason to belong to the said sun than to the earth, inasmuch as in a movable sphere it is more reasonable that the centre stand still than any place remote from the centre.

To the earth, therefore, may a yearly revolution be assigned, leaving the sun at rest. And if that be so, it follows that the diurnal motion likewise belongs to the earth; for if the sun stood still and the earth did not rotate, the year would consist of six months of day and six months of night. You may consider, likewise, how, in conformity with this scheme, the precipitate motion of twenty-four hours is taken away from the universe; and how the fixed stars, which are so many suns, are made, like our sun, to enjoy perpetual rest.

Sagredus: The scheme is simple and satisfactory; but, tell me, how is it that Pythagoras and Copernicus, who first brought it forward, could make so few converts?

Salviatus: If you know what frivolous reasons serve to make the vulgar, contumacious and indisposed to hearken, you would not wonder at the paucity of converts. The number of thick skulls is infinite, and we need neither record their follies nor endeavour to interest them in subtle and sublime ideas. No demonstrations can enlighten stupid brains.

My wonder, Sagredus, is different from yours. You wonder that so few are believers in the Pythagorean hypothesis; I wonder that there are any to embrace it. Nor can I sufficiently admire the super-eminence of those men’s wits that have received and held it to be true, and with the sprightliness of their judgments have offered such violence to their senses that they have been able to prefer that which their reason asserted to that which sensible experience manifested. I cannot find any bounds for my admiration how that reason was able, in Aristarchus and Copernicus, to commit such a rape upon their senses, as in despite thereof to make herself mistress of their credulity.

Sagredus: Will there still be strong opposition to the Copernican system?

Salviatus: Undoubtedly; for there are evident and sensible facts to oppose it, requiring a sense more sublime than the common and vulgar senses to assist reason.

Sagredus: Let us, then, join battle with those antagonistic facts.

Salviatus: I am ready. In the first place, Mars himself charges hotly against the truth of the Copernican system. According to the Copernican system, that planet should appear sixty times as large when at its nearest as when at its farthest; but this diversity of magnitude is not to be seen. The same difficulty is seen in the case of Venus. Further, if Venus be dark, and shine only with reflected light, like the moon, it should show lunar phases; but these do not appear.

Further, again, the moon prevents the whole order of the Copernican system by revolving round the earth instead of round the sun. And there are other serious and curious difficulties admitted by Copernicus himself. But even the three great difficulties I have named are not real. As a matter of fact, Mars and Venus do vary in magnitude as required by theory, and Venus does change its shape exactly like the moon.

Sagredus: But how came this to be concealed from Copernicus and revealed to you?

Portrait of Galileo Galilei by Justus Sustermans (1597–1681), oil on canvas,1636, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London.

Portrait of Galileo Galilei by Justus Sustermans (1597–1681), oil on canvas,1636, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London.

Further reading:
Galileo Galilei: When the World Stood Still by Atle Næss
Einstein: His Life & Universe by Walter Isaacson

 

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Monochord

Robert FluddA single stringed instrument used to scientifically measure pitched tones, the monochord was also considered by some to be an important alchemical tool. The 16th and 17th century paracelsian physician Robert Fludd (1574–1637) made use of what he called his mundane monochord to express not only his theories of music but also his esoteric ideas about divine cosmic harmonies.

Robert Fludd’s Monochord from 1617, engraving by Kaspar Rötel

Robert Fludd’s Monochord from 1617, engraving by Kaspar Rötel

Robert Fludd’s Monochord from 1624, engraving by Kaspar Rötel

Robert Fludd’s Monochord from 1624, engraving by Kaspar Rötel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An exhibition titled High Matter, Dark Language: The Philosophy of Robert Fludd was organized in 1984 at the Wellcome Library in London. The catalog for the exhibition states:

Fludd used the monochord mostly to depict the musical intervals and numerical
proportions, but he also went further than this and integrated other relationships such as
parts of the human body or the stars into the framework of the musical instrument… It is clear enough that Fludd meant to present in this way an ensemble of harmonies that was shown in its completest form in the Monochordum mundi. But he was never affected by the difference which exists for us between the harmony of an instrument and the symbolism of all the other harmonies.

Titlepage of Robert Fludd's "Utriusque cosmi maioris scilice, engraving by T. de Bry, 1617

Titlepage of Robert Fludd’s “Utriusque cosmi maioris scilice, engraving by T. de Bry, 1617

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The Vats

Two friends wandering the English countryside happen upon the inexplicable…

 

The Vats
by Walter de la Mare
1923

Many years ago now—in that once upon a time which is the memory of the imagination rather than of the workaday mind, I went walking with a friend. Of what passed before we set out I have nothing but the vaguest recollection. All I remember is that it was early morning, that we were happy to be in one another’s company, that there were bright green boughs overhead amongst which the birds floated and sang, and that the early dews still burned in their crystal in the sun.

We were taking our way almost at haphazard across country: there was now grass, now the faintly sparkling flinty dust of an English road, underfoot. With remarkably few humans to be seen, we trudged on, turning our eyes ever and again to glance laughingly, questioningly, or perplexedly at one another’s, then slanting them once more on the blue-canopied countryside. It was spring, in the month of May, I think, and we were talking of Time.

Michael Maier & Johann Theodor de Bry, Atalanta Fugiens Emblem 36, copper engraving on paper, 9.5 x 10.4 cm, 1687, Deutsche Fotothek, Dresden

Michael Maier & Johann Theodor de Bry, Atalanta Fugiens Emblem 36, copper engraving on paper, 9.5 x 10.4 cm, 1617, Deutsche Fotothek, Dresden

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Tale of the Heike

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Minori: Taira no Tomomori, woodblock print, Edo period 1845-46

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Minori: Taira no Tomomori, woodblock print, Edo period 1845-46

The Heike Monogatari, or Tale of the Heike, is a legendary prose narrative that depicts the epic battle between the Taira, or Heike, and the Minamoto, or Genji, clans. During what is known as The Genpei War, the two groups were battling for control of Japan in the late 12th century. In the great climactic naval battle at Dan-no-ura, the Taira are defeated, which leads to the establishment of the Kamakura shogunate, and nearly 700 years of shogun rule. As the end draws near for the heroes of the Taira, most famously Taira no Tomomori, they weigh themselves down with armor and even anchors and leap together into the sea. The legend has been retold and portrayed many times in literature, art, theater, and film. Below are some of Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s famous Ukiyo-e woodblock prints on the subject, along with an excerpt from the original English translation by A. L. Sadler (1918–1921).

 

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Tamomori tied to a huge anchor ready to cast himself into the sea, woodblock print, Edo period c. 1840’s

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Tomomori tied to a huge anchor ready to cast himself into the sea, woodblock print, Edo period c. 1840’s

Then Shin-Chunagon Tomomori-no-Kyo, who had been watching how the day was going, at length saw that nothing remained but to put an end to his life, and calling his foster-brother Iga-no-Heinaisaemon Ienaga, he said: ” Is it not time to fulfil the promise we made? ” ” Certainly; ” replied Ienaga. And he assisted Tomomori to don two suits of armour, afterwards doing the same himself, and the two leaped into the sea clasped in each other’s arms. Some twenty samurai who were with them at once followed them into the waves; but Etchu-no-Jirohyoye Moritsugu, Kazusa-no-Gorohyoe, Akushichi-byoye Kagekiyo and Hida-no-Jirohyoye managed to elude the enemy somehow and escape. And now the whole sea was red with the banners and insignia that they tore off and cut away, so that it looked like the waters of the Tatsuta-gawa when it is flecked with the maple leaves that the wind brings down in autumn, while the white breakers that rolled up on the beach were dyed a scarlet colour. The deserted empty ships rocked mournfully on the waves, driven aimlessly hither and Hither by the wind and tide.

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, The Ghost of Tomomori, woodblock print, Edo period c. 1840’s

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, The Ghost of Tomomori, woodblock print, Edo period c. 1840’s

Kuniyoshi HeikeganiThere is a species of crab in the waters of Japan called Heikegani whose shell resembles a human face, and it is believed that these are the reincarnation of the fallen Heike.

 

 

Books…
Ten Foot Square Hut & Tales of the Heike
Ukiyo-E Master #01: Samurai Ghost and Monster Wars: Supernatural Art by Kuniyoshi
Drawings by Utagawa Kuniyoshi from the Collection of the National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden

 

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Annie Besant’s Thought-Forms

Annie BesantAnnie Besant (British, October 1, 1847 – September 20, 1933) was a theosophist, activist for women’s rights, socialist, public speaker, and author who supported the independence of Ireland and India. She was associated with such groups as The National Secular Society, The Social Democratic Federation, and the Fabian Society, and was a strong proponent of unions and workers’ rights. Besant joined the Theosophical Society after meeting the occultist, Helena Blavatsky in 1890, and gave many lectures on the subject.

She was a prolific writer and among her most interesting works is a volume from 1901 that she co-wrote with Charles Webster Leadbeater, titled Thought-Forms. The book is concerned with the visual manifestation of mental energy and includes many drawings and illustrations that attempt to represent the powers of the mind. The following are some examples with excerpts from their descriptions:

The Intention to Know.—Fig. 19 is of interest as showing us something of the growth of a thought-form. The earlier stage, which is indicated by the upper form, is not uncommon, and indicates the determination to solve some problem—the intention to know and to understand. Sometimes a theosophical lecturer sees many of these yellow serpentine forms projecting towards him from his audience, and welcomes them as a token that his hearers are following his arguments intelligently, and have an earnest desire to understand and to know more. A form of this kind frequently accompanies a question, and if, as is sometimes unfortunately the case, the question is put less with the genuine desire for knowledge than for the purpose of exhibiting the acumen of the questioner, the form is strongly tinged with the deep orange that indicates conceit…

The Intention to Know

High Ambition.—Fig. 20 gives us another manifestation of desire—the ambition for place or power. The ambitious quality is shown by the rich deep orange colour, and the desire by the hooked extensions which precede the form as it moves. The thought is a good and pure one of its kind, for if there were anything base or selfish in the desire it would inevitably show itself in the darkening of the clear orange hue by dull reds, browns, or greys…

High Ambition

Vague Selfish Affection.—Fig. 9 shows us also a cloud of affection, but this time it is deeply tinged with a far less desirable feeling. The dull hard brown-grey of selfishness shows itself very decidedly among the carmine of love, and thus we see that the affection which is indicated is closely connected with satisfaction at favours already received, and with a lively anticipation of others to come in the near future…

Vague Selfish Affection

In attempting to explain the phenomena of thought creating form, the authors use the example of Chladni’s sound plate, a device that uses the vibration of sound to create patterns in sand:

Chladni's Sound Plate
And, they go on to elaborate on the difficulties of making thought-form representations:

There are some serious difficulties in our way, for our conception of space is limited to three dimensions, and when we attempt to make a drawing we practically limit ourselves to two…

It is possible to do this only because similar objects are already familiar to those who look at the picture and accept the suggestion which it conveys. A person who had never seen a tree could form but little idea of one from even the most skilful painting. If to this difficulty we add the other and far more serious one of a limitation of consciousness, and suppose ourselves to be showing the picture to a being who knew only two dimensions, we see how utterly impossible it would be to convey to him any adequate impression of such a landscape as we see… The vast majority of those who look at the picture are absolutely limited to the consciousness of three dimensions, and furthermore, have not the slightest conception of that inner world to which thought-forms belong, with all its splendid light and colour.

Annie Besant had been a friend and follower of Jiddu Krishnamurti, who, though once a leader in the Theosophical Society, eventually left theosophy altogether to travel and teach his own original ideas for which he is widely known today. Though she remained a theosophist, Besant continued to follow Krishnamurti and to try and incorporate his new teachings, though somewhat unsuccessfully. The two remained friends until Besant’s death in India, in 1933, at the age of 85.

 

 

 

 

 

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Odilon Redon Against Nature

Redon_crying-spider

Odilon Redon, The Crying Spider, charcoal on paper, 49.5 cm (19.5 in) x 37.5 cm (14.8 in), 1881, private collection, Netherlands

In the 1870’s, Odilon Redon worked mostly in charcoal and lithography, creating visionary works that he called “noirs”.

Though he had published an album of lithographs, titled Dans le Rêve, in 1879, it was not until Joris-Karl Huysmans published his book, À rebours or Against Nature, in 1884 that he received larger notoriety. In the book, an aristocratic art collector named Jean Des Esseintes is fascinated by Redon’s work:

…Des Esseintes had a special weakness for the other frames adorning the room.
They were signed: Odilon Redon.

They enclosed inconceivable apparitions in their rough, gold-striped pear-tree wood. A head of a Merovingian style, resting against a bowl, a bearded man, at once resembling a Buddhist priest and an orator at a public reunion, touching the ball of a gigantic cannon with his fingers; a frightful spider revealing a human face in its body. The charcoal drawings went even farther into dream terrors. Here, an enormous die in which a sad eye winked; there, dry and arid landscapes, dusty plains, shifting ground, volcanic upheavals catching rebellious clouds, stagnant and livid skies. Sometimes the subjects even seemed to have borrowed from the cacodemons of science, reverting to prehistoric times. A monstrous plant on the rocks, queer blocks everywhere, glacial mud, figures whose simian shapes, heavy jaws, beetling eyebrows, retreating foreheads and flat skulls, recalled the ancestral heads of the first quaternary periods, when inarticulate man still devoured fruits and seeds, and was still contemporaneous with the mammoth, the rhinoceros and the big bear. These designs were beyond anything imaginable; they leaped, for the most part, beyond the limits of painting and introduced a fantasy that was unique, the fantasy of a diseased and delirious mind.

And, indeed, certain of these faces, with their monstrous, insane eyes, certain of these swollen, deformed bodies resembling carafes, induced in Des Esseintes recollections of typhoid, memories of feverish nights and of the shocking visions of his infancy which persisted and would not be suppressed.

Odilon Redon, Butterflies, oil on canvas, 739 mm (29.09 in) x 549 mm (21.61 in), circa 1910, Museum of Modern Art, New York

Odilon Redon, Butterflies, oil on canvas, 739 mm (29.09 in) x 549 mm (21.61 in), circa 1910, Museum of Modern Art, New York

By the late nineteenth century Redon had switched to oils and pastels, and in 1913 he was featured in the New York Armory Show. Both he and Joris-Karl Huysmans became important figures in the history of symbolist art and literature.

 

 

 

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Turin-Milan Hours

The Turin-Milan Hours, which was partially destroyed by a fire in 1904, is an illuminated manuscript and book of hours. It was begun in the late fourteenth century and was completed in various stages. At times in the possession of Jean, Duc de Berry and eventually John III Duke of Bavaria (Count of Holland), the Turin and Milan Hours was worked on by a number of different artists and was originally thought to be two separate volumes. Several miniatures completed in the latter stages of the work, probably around 1420, are credited to an artist called “Hand G”.

The Birth of John the Baptist (above) and the Baptism of Christ below, The Turin-Milan Hours (also Les Très Belles Heures de Notre Dame de Jean de Berry), illumination on parchment, circa 1420, Museo Civico d'Arte Antica di Torino

Hand G (Jan Van Eyck), The Birth of John the Baptist (above) and the Baptism of Christ below, The Turin-Milan Hours (also Les Très Belles Heures de Notre Dame de Jean de Berry), illumination on parchment, circa 1420, Museo Civico d’Arte Antica di Torino

Jan Van Eyck, illumination on parchment, 28 × 19 cm (11 × 7.5 in), circa 1420, Biblioteca Nazionale Universitaria di Torino, destroyed by fire

Hand G (Jan Van Eyck), illumination on parchment, 28 × 19 cm (11 × 7.5 in), circa 1420, Biblioteca Nazionale Universitaria di Torino, destroyed by fire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is most likely the Van Eyck brothers, Jan and Hubert, legendary, especially Jan Van Eyck, for revolutionizing painting in Europe in the fifteenth century. The parts of the manuscript attributed to them are widely regarded as the most masterful and interesting.

Jan Van Eyck, Self-portrait?, oil on panel, 26 × 19 cm (10.2 × 7.5 in), 1433, National Gallery of Art, Washington

Jan Van Eyck, Self-portrait?, oil on panel, 26 × 19 cm (10.2 × 7.5 in), 1433, National Gallery of Art, Washington

Hubert van Eyck (1366–1426) by Edme de Boulonois, Illustration from a book by Isaac Bullart, Académie des Sciences et des Arts…, 1682

Hubert van Eyck (1366–1426) by Edme de Boulonois, Illustration from a book by Isaac Bullart, Académie des Sciences et des Arts…, 1682

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Turin National University Library, partially destroyed by fire in 1904 and subsequently bombed in 1942, photo 2008 by Claudio Cavallero.

The Turin National University Library, partially destroyed by fire in 1904 and subsequently bombed in 1942, photo 2008 by Claudio Cavallero.

It was reported that an electrical fire in the Turin National University Library was responsible for the destruction of the portions of the Turin-Milan Hours that were kept there and along with it around 100,000 volumes and other priceless manuscripts. Fortunately, photographic reproductions of the destroyed parts remain intact.


Books about Jan Van Eyck…

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Earth’s Answer

Blake's illustration and print of "Earth's Answer" in Copy B of Song's of Innocence and Experience, 1789, 1794, The British Museum

Blake’s illustration and print of “Earth’s Answer” in Copy B of Song’s of Innocence and Experience, 1789, 1794, The British Museum

Earth’s Answer by William Blake
from Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience, 1794

 

EARTH’S ANSWER

Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.

Prisoned on watery shore,
Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;
Weeping o’er,
I hear the father of the ancient men.

Selfish father of men!
Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
Can delight,
Chained in night,
The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy,
When buds and blossoms grow?
Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the ploughman in darkness plough?

Break this heavy chain,
That does freeze my bones around!
Selfish, vain,
Eternal bane,
That free love with bondage bound.

 

Books by or about William Blake

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Blackwood’s Dark Nature

Some snippets from the weird tales of Algernon Blackwood

From The Willows (1907)

Reproduction of a painting by Maurits Willem van der Valk (1857-1935), from the book Dutch art in the 19th Century (1909) by G. Hermine Marius, translated by Alexander Teixeira De Mattos

Reproduction of a painting by Maurits Willem van der Valk (1857-1935), from the book Dutch Art in the 19th Century (1909) by G. Hermine Marius, translated by Alexander Teixeira De Mattos

 

The change came suddenly, as when a series of bioscope pictures snaps down on the streets of a town and shifts without warning into the scenery of lake and forest. We entered the land of desolation on wings, and in less than half an hour there was neither boat nor fishing-hut nor red roof, nor any single sign of human habitation and civilization within sight. The sense of remoteness from the world of humankind, the utter isolation, the fascination of this singular world of willows, winds, and waters, instantly laid its spell upon us both, so that we allowed laughingly to one another that we ought by rights to have held some special kind of passport to admit us, and that we had, somewhat audaciously, come without asking leave into a separate little kingdom of wonder and magic—a kingdom that was reserved for the use of others who had a right to it, with everywhere unwritten warnings to trespassers for those who had the imagination to discover them.

From The Man Whom the Trees Loved (1912)

He painted trees as by some special divining instinct of their essential qualities. He understood them. He knew why in an oak forest, for instance, each individual was utterly distinct from its fellows, and why no two beeches in the whole world were alike. People asked him down to paint a favorite lime or silver birch, for he caught the individuality of a tree as some catch the individuality of a horse. How he managed it was something of a puzzle, for he never had painting lessons, his drawing was often wildly inaccurate, and, while his perception of a Tree Personality was true and vivid, his rendering of it might almost approach the ludicrous. Yet the character and personality of that particular tree stood there alive beneath his brush—shining, frowning, dreaming, as the case might be, friendly or hostile, good or evil. It emerged.

And finally, from Sand (1912)

Already something in himself had changed. A restlessness, as of that wandering wind, woke in his heart—the desire to be off and away. Other things could rouse this wildness too: falling water, the singing of a bird, an odour of wood-fire, a glimpse of winding road. But the cry of wind, always searching, questioning, travelling the world’s great routes, remained ever the master-touch. High longing took his mood in hand. Mid seven millions he felt suddenly—lonely.

“I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”

 

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Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

Frederick Goddard Tuckerman American (February 4, 1821 – May 9, 1873) Engraving c. 1835-1850 Photograph, taken on 06-30-2009, of engraving, reprinted in Eugene England's 1991 critical biography of Tuckerman entitled Beyond Romanticism -- the only known surviving image of the poet

Frederick Goddard Tuckerman American (February 4, 1821 – May 9, 1873) Engraving c. 1835-1850
Photograph, taken on 06-30-2009, of engraving, reprinted in Eugene England’s 1991 critical biography of Tuckerman entitled Beyond Romanticism — the only known surviving image of the poet

 

Two sonnets from American poet, Frederick Goddard Tuckerman, from the only collection published during his lifetime, Poems (1860).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AN UPPER CHAMBER IN A DARKENED HOUSE

An upper chamber in a darkened house,
Where, ere his footsteps reached ripe manhood’s brink,
Terror and anguish were his cup to drink,—
I cannot rid the thought, nor hold it close;
But dimly dream upon that man alone;—
Now though the autumn clouds most softly pass;
The cricket chides beneath the doorstep stone,
And greener than the season grows the grass.
Nor can I drop my lids, nor shade my brows,
But there he stands beside the lifted sash;
And, with a swooning of the heart, I think
Where the black shingles slope to meet the boughs,
And—shattered on the roof like smallest snows—
The tiny petals of the mountain-ash.

 

SOMETIMES I WALK WHERE THE DEEP WATER DIPS

Sometimes I walk where the deep water dips
Against the land. Or on where fancy drives
I walk and muse aloud, like one who strives
To tell his half-shaped thought with stumbling lips,
And view the ocean sea, the ocean ships,
With joyless heart: still but myself I find
And restless phantoms of my restless mind:
Only the moaning of my wandering words,
Only the wailing of the wheeling plover,
And this high rock beneath whose base the sea
Has wormed long caverns, like my tears in me:
And hard like this I stand, and beaten and blind,
This desolate rock with lichens rusted over,
Hoar with salt-sleet and chalkings of the birds.

 

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