work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5483,"",HDIS,2003-10-21 00:00:00 UTC,"But her daughter, her lovely daughter! --with all the gentleness of her mother's disposition, she unites the warmth of her father's heart, and the strength of her father's understanding. Her eyes, in their silent state, (if I may use the term) give the beholder every idea of feminine softness; when sentiment or feeling animates them, how eloquent they are! When Roubigné talks, I hate vice, and despise folly; when his wife speaks, I pity both; but the music of Julia's tongue gives the throb of virtue to my heart, and lifts my soul to somewhat superhuman.
I mention not the graces of her form; yet they are such as would attract the admiration of those, by whom the beauties of her mind might not be understood. In one as well as the other, there is a remarkable conjunction of tenderness with dignity; but her beauty is of that sort, on which we cannot properly decide independent of the soul, because the first is never uninformed by the latter.
To the flippancy, which we are apt to ascribe to females of her age, she seems utterly a stranger. Her disposition indeed appears to lean, in an uncommon degree, towards the serious. Yet she breaks forth at times into filial attempts at gaiety, to amuse that disquiet which she observes in her father; but even then it looks like a conquest over the natural pensiveness of her mind. This melancholy might be held a fault in Julia; but the fortune of her family has been such, that none but those, who are totally exempted from thinking, could have looked on it with indifference.
It is only indeed, when she would confer happiness on others, that she seems perfectly to enjoy it. The rustics around us talk of her affability and good-humour with the liveliest gratitude; and I have been witness to several scenes, where she dispensed mirth and gaiety to some poor families in our neighbourhood, with a countenance as cheerful as the most unthinking of them all. At those seasons I have been tempted from the gravity natural to me, and borrowed from trifles a temporary happiness. Had you seen me yesterday dancing in the midst of a band of grape-gatherers, you would have blushed for your friend; but I danced with Julia.
I am called from my description by the approach of her whom I would describe.
(pp. 49-52)",2009-04-14,14667,"•Compare with previous citation (Julia's ""sketch"" of his mind). This record doesn't otherwise belong in this database?
•I've reviewed the record and made changes to figure type. I think it belongs in the database (10/21/2003)
REVISIT.","""I mention not the graces of her form; yet they are such as would attract the admiration of those, by whom the beauties of her mind might not be understood. In one as well as the other, there is a remarkable conjunction of tenderness with dignity; but her beauty is of that sort, on which we cannot properly decide independent of the soul, because the first is never uninformed by the latter.""","",2009-09-14 19:41:35 UTC,"Vol I, Letter 5"
5483,"",Searching in HDIS (Prose),2009-09-14 19:41:35 UTC,"I sit down to write to Segarva, with the idea of his presence at the time, and the idea was wont to be a pleasant one; it is now mixed with a sort of uneasiness, like that which a man feels, who has offended, and would ask to be forgiven. The consciousness of what I mean by this letter to reveal, hangs like guilt upon my mind; therefore it is that I have so long delayed writing. If you shall think it weakness. --Yet I know not how I can bear chiding on this point.
But why should I doubt of your approving it. Our conversations on the sex might be just, but they touch not Julia de Roubigné. Could my friend but see, but know her, I should need no other advocate to excuse the change of my sentiments.
Let me tell him then of my passion for that loveliest of women; that it has prompted me to offer her a hand, which, he has sometimes heard me declare, should never give away my freedom. This sounded like something manly, but it was, in truth, a littleness of soul. He who pauses in the exercise of every better affection of the heart, till he calculates the chances of danger or of ridicule, is the veriest of cowards; but the resolution, though frequently made, is seldom or never adhered to; the voice of nature, of wisdom, and of virtue is against it.
(pp. 71-3)",,14668,Consciousness hangs like guilt upon the mind? (Strange formulation. Is this a simile or a metaphor?) REVISIT.,"""The consciousness of what I mean by this letter to reveal, hangs like guilt upon my mind; therefore it is that I have so long delayed writing.""","",2012-01-25 21:35:21 UTC,"Vol I, Letter 9
Montauban to Segarva. Opening of letter."
5483,"",Searching in HDIS (Prose),2009-09-14 19:41:36 UTC,"You say, ""it is from the absence of Savillon, that the impression he had made on my heart has gained its present strength; that the contemplation of distant objects is always stronger than the sense of present ones; and that, were I to see him now, were I daily to behold him the husband of another, I should soon grow tranquil at the sight. That it is injustice to myself, and a want of that proper pride, which should be the constant attendant of our sex, to suffer this unhappy attachment to overcome my mind; and that, after looking calmly on the world, you cannot allow so much force to those impressions, as our youth was apt to suppose in them. That they are commonly vanquished by an effort to vanquish them; and that the sinking under their pressure, is one of those diseases of the mind, which, like certain diseases of the body, the exercise of its better faculties will very soon remove.""
There is reason in all this; but while you argue from reason, I must decide from my feelings. In every one's own case, there is a rule of judging, which is not the less powerful that one cannot express it. --I insist not on the memory of Savillon; I can forget him, I think I can-- time will be kind that way--it is fit I should forget him--he is happy, as the husband of another. --But should I wed any man, be his worth what it may, if I feel not that lively preference for him, which waits not for reasoning to persuade its consent?
(pp. 128-30)",,14674,"","""That they are commonly vanquished by an effort to vanquish them; and that the sinking under their pressure, is one of those diseases of the mind, which, like certain diseases of the body, the exercise of its better faculties will very soon remove.""","",2012-01-25 21:40:31 UTC,"Vol I, Letter 15
Julia to Maria"
5483,"",HDIS,2009-09-14 19:41:37 UTC,"I attended his family to that ancient mansion, which was now the sole property of the once opulent Roubigné. With unwearied attention I soothed his sorrows, and humbled myself before his misfortunes, as much as I had formerly resisted dependence on his prosperity.
He felt the assiduity of my friendship, and I saw him grateful for its exertion; yet would the idea of being obliged, often rankle in his mind: and I have seen him frequently look at me with an appearance of anger, when he thought I was conscious of obliging him.
Far different was the gentle nature of his daughter. She thanked me with unfeigned gratitude for my services to her father, and seemed solicitous to compensate with her smiles, for that want of acknowledgment she observed in him.
Had my heart been free before, it was impossible to preserve its freedom now. A spectator of all those excellencies which, though she ever possessed, her present situation alone could give full room to exert; all that sublimity of mind, which bore adversity unmoved; all that gentleness, which contrived to lighten it to her father, and smooth the rankling of his haughty soul! I applauded the election I had made, and looked on my love as a virtue.
Yet there were moments of anxiety, in which I feared the consequences of indulging this attachment. My own situation, the situation of Julia, the pride of her father, the pride which it was proper for herself to feel: all these were present to my view, and shewed me how little I could build on hope; yet it cheated me, I know not how, and I dreamed, from day to day, of blessings, which every day's reflection told me were not to be looked for.
(II, L26, pp. 8-10)",2009-04-14,14681,"•Savillon to Beauvaris. Opening of Volume II.
•Cf. this OED citation: 1b. of a wound, sore, disease, etc. In later use chiefly fig.1523 LD. B ERNERS Froiss. I. xciii. 115 His soores rankeled and..within a shorte space after he dyed. 1553 BRENDE Q. Curtius Gvij, The wound..beganne to swele and rancle as the bloud waxed colde. 1642 ROGERS Naaman 336 Which makes their disease to ranckle in them. 1741 RICHARDSON Pamela (1824) I. 204 The wound..is but skinned over, and rankles still at the bottom. a1828 H. N EELE Lit. Rem. (1829) 331 When the heart's wounds Rankle the sorest. 1875 STUBBS Const. Hist. III. xviii. 49 The king forgave Mowbray..but the sore rankled still.
•I should decide if the second piece of bolded type deserves its own record. (I would extract the sublime mind that bears adversity) . OK, added.","""He felt the assiduity of my friendship, and I saw him grateful for its exertion; yet would the idea of being obliged, often rankle in his mind.""","",2012-01-25 21:53:24 UTC,"Vol II, Letter 26"
5483,"",HDIS,2009-09-14 19:41:38 UTC,"My wife (that word must often come across the narration of a married man) has been a good deal indisposed of late. You will not joke me on this intelligence, as such of my neighbours whom I have seen have done; it is not however what they say, or you may think; her spirits droop more than her body; she is thoughtful and melancholy when she thinks she is not observed, and, what pleases me worse, affects to appear otherwise, when she is. I like not this sadness which is conscious of itself. Yet, perhaps, I have seen her thus before our marriage, and have rather admired this turn of mind than disapproved of it; but now I would not have her pensive-- nor very gay neither--I would have no. thing about her, methinks, to stir a question in me whence it arose. She should be contented with the affection she knows I bear for her. I do not expect her to be romantically happy, and she has no cause for uneasiness--I am not uneasy neither--yet I wish her to conquer this melancholy.
I was last night abroad at supper: Julia was a-bed before my return. I found her lute lying on the table, and a musicbook open by it. I could perceive the marks of tears shed on the paper, and the air was such as might encourage their falling: sleep however had overcome her sadness, and she did not awake when I opened the curtains to look on her. When I had stood some moments, I heard her sigh strongly through her sleep, and presently she muttered some words, I know not of what import. I had sometimes heard her do so before, without regarding it much; but there was something that roused my attention now. I listened; she sighed again, and again spoke a few broken words; at last, I heard her plainly pronounce the name Savillon, two or three times over, and each time it was accompanied with sighs so deep, that her heart seemed bursting as it heaved them. I confess the thing struck me, and, after musing on it some time, I resolved to try a little experiment this day at dinner, to discover whether chance had made her pronounce this name, orif some previous cause had impressed it on her imagination. I knew a man of that name at Paris, when I first went thither, who had an office under the intendant of the marine. I introduced some conversation on the subject of the fleet, and said, in an indifferent manner, that I had heard so and so from my old acquaintance Savillon. She spilt some soup she was helping me to at the instant; and, stealing a glance at her, I saw her cheeks flushed into crimson.
I have been ever since going the round of conjecture on this incident. I think I can recollect once, and but once, her father speak of a person called Savillon residing abroad, from whom he had received a letter; but I never heard Julia memion him at all. I know not why I should have forborn asking her the reason of her being so affected at the sound; yet, at the moment I perceived it, the question stuck in my throat. I felt something like guilt hang over this incident altogether--it is none of mine then--nor of Julia's neither, I trust--and yet, Segarva, it has touched me nearer--much nearer than I should own to any one but you.
(pp. 100-104)",,14688,"","""[H]er spirits droop more than her body; she is thoughtful and melancholy when she thinks she is not observed, and, what pleases me worse, affects to appear otherwise, when she is""","",2009-09-14 19:41:38 UTC,"Vol II, Letter 35
Montauban to Segarva"
5512,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""brass"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""reason""",2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"You cannot know, my Lord, who never stray
From Virtue's fair and ever open way,
The various arts of Vice;--you never trod
The dark mæanders of her foul abode;
Where the base Fiend, with daily toil, prepares
The bold temptations and the secret snares;
Where grinning Scandal frames the daily lie,
And cunning weaves the web of flattery:
The lie that Malice, with insidious arm,
Shoots from her well-strung bow at Virtue's name:
The gentle Flattery that watchful Art
Slides, unperceived, into the heedless heart.
There Falshood forms, for unexperienc'd Youth,
The subtle glass that o'er the brow of Truth
Throws frowns of angry aspect, and beguiles
Her own disgusting face with winning smiles.
There busy Spirits forge, with curious art,
The triple plates of brass, to guard the heart
From Reason's bold assault;--and the glad eye
Of Pride beholds the stubborn armory.
There hellish ministers with fatal care
From baneful drugs the potent juice prepare;
Whose dead'ning posset dulls the mental sense
Against the wholesome pains of Penitence.
Such are the arts I combat, such the foe,
At whose proud crest I aim the pointed blow.",,14750,•I've included twice: Body and Metal,"In ""the dark maeanders"" of Vice's ""foul abode ... busy Spirits forge, with curious art,/ The triple plates of brass, to guard the heart / From Reason's bold assault""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:41:49 UTC,""
5512,"",Searching HDIS (Poetry),2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"You cannot know, my Lord, who never stray
From Virtue's fair and ever open way,
The various arts of Vice;--you never trod
The dark mæanders of her foul abode;
Where the base Fiend, with daily toil, prepares
The bold temptations and the secret snares;
Where grinning Scandal frames the daily lie,
And cunning weaves the web of flattery:
The lie that Malice, with insidious arm,
Shoots from her well-strung bow at Virtue's name:
The gentle Flattery that watchful Art
Slides, unperceived, into the heedless heart.
There Falshood forms, for unexperienc'd Youth,
The subtle glass that o'er the brow of Truth
Throws frowns of angry aspect, and beguiles
Her own disgusting face with winning smiles.
There busy Spirits forge, with curious art,
The triple plates of brass, to guard the heart
From Reason's bold assault;--and the glad eye
Of Pride beholds the stubborn armory.
There hellish ministers with fatal care
From baneful drugs the potent juice prepare;
Whose dead'ning posset dulls the mental sense
Against the wholesome pains of Penitence.
Such are the arts I combat, such the foe,
At whose proud crest I aim the pointed blow.",,14752,"•Johnson defines ""posset"" as ""Milk curdled with wine or any acid""","In Vice's ""foul abode ... hellish ministers with fatal care / From baneful drugs the potent juice prepare; / Whose dead'ning posset dulls the mental sense
","",2009-09-14 19:41:49 UTC,""
5717,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,"""These"" said the Muse, ""are subjects for thy song!
""Let themes like these thy manly strain prolong.
--""Does pining Merit in Oppression live?
""Give that protection which the Muse can give.
--""Does Patriot Virtue strive, but strive in vain,
""Its Country's dear-bought Freedom to maintain?
""Dare to support that long-deserted cause,
""And give, tho' Crowns oppose thee, give applause!
--""Is there a Man, who, from his earliest youth,
""Ne'er felt a sense of Honour or of Truth;
""Whose heart ne'er struggled with a wish for Fame,
""Whose cheek ne'er bore the blush of honest Shame;
""Vice his sole good, Himself his only end,
""The lurking Foe, the hypocritic Friend?
""If such an one there be, his bosom bare,--
""Show his black heart, and guide the Vultures there.
--""Should the vile Priest, for Lucre's filthy gain,
""Give up his Flock to join the courtly Train;
""Should he forsake the path his Saviour trod,
""And proudly turn his Back upon his God;
""Tho' Mitres crown him, break his golden Rest,
""And 'wake a troubled Conscience in his breast.
--""Does Beauty, swerving from its Maker's plan
""To be the Solace and the Joy of Man,
""Spurning at Fame and Honour's mild decree,
""Drink, with delight, the dregs of Infamy?
--""Does Man, so made to cherish, first betray,
""Then leave the Victim to the World a Prey?
""Let not thy Verse its angry scourge forbear,
""Nor veil the shameless Wanton's last despair.
--""Should frolic Youth, by mast'ring Passions led,
""In Folly's fair but treach'rous mazes tread,
""With cunning skill, and well-imagin'd care,
""Full in his view expose the lurking snare;
""And strive, by just degrees and friendly art,
""To 'wake the Virtue slumb'ring in his Heart.
--""Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end,
""Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend,
""Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?--
""Scourge him!--nor fear the wit of Chesterfield.
--""Do hireling Statesmen, in Corruption bold,
""Sell their poor Country as themselves are sold?
""With noble courage let thy Patriot Song
""Inflame a Nation to revenge its wrong.
--""Is there a Monarch, by mad Folly led,
""And under something worse than Folly bred;--
""Who would his People's sacred Rights betray,
""And longs to rule them with tyrannic Sway?--
""Exalt thy Strain, nor be the silly Thing
""That fears to speak of Justice to a King;--
""Deep in his Bosom plant the conscious Groan,--
""Nor spare a Vice,--tho' seated on a Throne.""--",,15246,•I've included twive: Callous and Steel,"""'Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end, / 'Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend, / 'Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:08 UTC,""
5418,"","",2007-03-20 00:00:00 UTC,"Besides these, there were certain evenings appropriated to exercises of the mind. ""It is not enough, said Annesly, to put weapons into those hands which never have been taught the use of them; the reading we recommend to youth will store their minds with intelligence, if they attend to it properly; but to go a little farther, we must accustom them to apply it, we must teach them the art of comparing the ideas with which it has furnished them."" In this view it was the practice, at those [Page 45] stated times I have mentioned, for Billy, or his sister, to read a select passage of some classical author, on whose relations they delivered opinions, or on whose sentiments they offered a comment. Never was seen more satisfaction on a countenance, than used to enlighten their father's, at the delivery of those observations, which his little philosophers were accustomed to make: indeed, there could scarcely, even to a stranger, be a more pleasing exhibition; their very errors were delightful, because they were the errors of benevolence, generosity, and virtue.",,16952,"","""Besides these, there were certain evenings appropriated to exercises of the mind.""","",2009-09-14 19:48:32 UTC,"Vol. 1, Chap. 4"
5418,Mind's Eye,LION,2014-10-20 02:17:24 UTC,"The punctilio's indeed on which he depends, for his own peace, and the peace of society, are so ridiculous in the eye of reason, that it is not a little surprising, how so many millions of reasonable beings should have sanctified them with their mutual consent and acquiescence; that they should have agreed to surround the seats of friendship, and the table of festivity, with so many thorns of inquietude, and snares of destruction.
(I, p. 72)",,24478,"","""The punctilio's indeed on which he depends, for his own peace, and the peace of society, are so ridiculous in the eye of reason, that it is not a little surprising, how so many millions of reasonable beings should have sanctified them with their mutual consent and acquiescence; that they should have agreed to surround the seats of friendship, and the table of festivity, with so many thorns of inquietude, and snares of destruction.""","",2014-10-20 02:17:24 UTC,""