text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"For the Commons convene in the Hall of the Nation. France shakes! And the heavens of France
Perplex'd vibrate round each careful countenance! Darkness of old times around them
Utters loud despair, shadowing Paris; her grey towers groan, and the Bastile trembles.
In its terrible towers the Governor stood, in dark fogs list'ning the horror;
A thousand his soldiers, old veterans of France, breathing red clouds of power and dominion,
Sudden seiz'd with howlings, despair, and black night, he stalk'd like a lion from tower
To tower, his howlings were heard in the Louvre; from court to court restless he dragg'd
His strong limbs; from court to court curs'd the fierce torment unquell'd,
Howling and giving the dark command; in his soul stood the purple plague,
Tugging his iron manacles, and piercing through the seven towers dark and sickly,
Panting over the prisoners like a wolf gorg'd; and the den nam'd Horror held a man
Chain'd hand and foot, round his neck an iron band, bound to the impregnable wall.
In his soul was the serpent coil'd round in his heart, hid from the light, as in a cleft rock;
And the man was confin'd for a writing prophetic: in the tower nam'd Darkness, was a man
Pinion'd down to the stone floor, his strong bones scarce cover'd with sinews; the iron rings
Were forg'd smaller as the flesh decay'd, a mask of iron on his face hid the lineaments
Of ancient Kings, and the frown of the eternal lion was hid from the oppressed earth.
In the tower named Bloody, a skeleton yellow remained in its chains on its couch
Of stone, once a man who refus'd to sign papers of abhorrence; the eternal worm
Crept in the skeleton. In the den nam'd Religion, a loathsome sick woman, bound down
To a bed of straw; the seven diseases of earth, like birds of prey, stood on the couch,
And fed on the body. She refus'd to be whore to the Minister, and with a knife smote him.
In the tower nam'd Order, an old man, whose white beard cover'd the stone floor like weeds
On margin of the sea, shrivel'd up by heat of day and cold of night; his den was short
And narrow as a grave dug for a child, with spiders webs wove, and with slime
Of ancient horrors cover'd, for snakes and scorpions are his companions; harmless they breathe
His sorrowful breath: he, by conscience urg'd, in the city of Paris rais'd a pulpit,
And taught wonders to darken'd souls. In the den nam'd Destiny a strong man sat,
His feet and hands cut off, and his eyes blinded; round his middle a chain and a band
Fasten'd into the wall; fancy gave him to see an image of despair in his den,
Eternally rushing round, like a man on his hands and knees, day and night without rest:
He was friend to the favourite. In the seventh tower, nam'd the tower of God, was a man
Mad, with chains loose, which he dragg'd up and down; fed with hopes year by year, he pined
For liberty; vain hopes: his reason decay'd, and the world of attraction in his bosom
Center'd, and the rushing of chaos overwhelm'd his dark soul. He was confin'd
For a letter of advice to a King, and his ravings in winds are heard over Versailles.",2009-09-14 19:33:40 UTC,"""In his soul was the serpent coil'd round in his heart, hid from the light, as in a cleft rock""",2005-06-08 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""soul"" and ""iron"" in HDIS (Poetry)",8623,3350
"When we were alone, I introduced the subject of death, and endeavoured to maintain that the fear of it might be got over. I told him that David Hume said to me, he was no more uneasy to think he should not be after his life, than that he he had not been before he began to exist. JOHNSON. ""Sir, if he really thinks so, his perceptions are disturbed; he is mad; if he does think so, he lies. He may tell you, he holds his finger in the flame of a candle, without feeling pain; would you believe him? When he dies, he at least gives up all he has."" BOSWELL. Foote, Sir, told me, that when he was very ill he was not afraid to die."" JOHNSON. ""It is not true, Sir. Hold a pistol to Foote's breast, or to Hume's breast, and threaten to kill them and you'll see how they behave."" BOSWELL. ""But may we not fortify our minds for the approach of death?""--Here I am sensible I was in the wrong, to bring before his view what he ever looked upon with horrour; for although when in a celestial frame of mind in his ""Vanity of Human Wishes,"" he has supposed death to be ""kind Nature's signal for retreat,"" from this state of being to ""a happier seat,"" his thoughts upon this awful were in general full of dismal apprehensions. His mind resembled the vast ampitheatre, the Colisaeum at Rome. In the centre stood his judgment, which like a mighty gladiator, combated those apprehensions that, like the wild beasts of the Arena, were all around in cells, ready to be let out upon him. After a conflict, he drives then back to their dens; but not killing them, they were still assailing him. To my question, whether we might not fortify our minds for the approach of death, he answered in a passion, ""No, Sir, let it alone. It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time."" He added, (with an earnest look,) ""A man knows it must be so, and submits. It will do him no good to whine.""
(p. 379-80; cf. I, p. 329 in 1791 printing)",2018-04-16 20:44:57 UTC,"""His mind resembled the vast ampitheatre, the Colisaeum at Rome. In the centre stood his judgment, which like a mighty gladiator, combated those apprehensions that, like the wild beasts of the Arena, were all around in cells, ready to be let out upon him. After a conflict, he drives then back to their dens; but not killing them, they were still assailing him.""",2005-09-19 00:00:00 UTC,"A.D. 1769, Aetat. 60","",,Theater,"•I've included four times: Ampitheatre, Coliseum, Gladiator, Beasts","Reading; confirmed in ECCO-TCP. Found again reading Jack Lynch, ""Samuel Johnson, Unbeliever."" Eighteenth-Century Life 29:3 (September, 2005): 1-19, 16. https://doi.org/10.1215/00982601-29-3-1",15364,5767
"We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by dy drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over. We must not divide objects of our attention into minute parts, and think separately of each part. It is by contemplating a large mass of human existence, that a man, while he sets a just value on his own life, does not think of his death as annihilating all that is great and pleasing in this world, as it actually contained in his mind, according to Berkeley's reverie. If his imagination be not sickly and feeble, it ""wings its distant way"" far beyond himself, and views the world in unceasing activity of every sort. It must be acknowledged, however, that Pope's plaintive reflection, that all things would be as gay as ever, on the day of his death, is natural and common. We are apt to transfer to all around us our own gloom, without considering that at any given point of time there is, perhaps, as much youth and gaiety in the world as at another. Before I came into this life, in which I have had so many pleasant scenes, have not thousands and ten thousands of deaths and funerals happened, and have not families been in grief for their nearest relation? [...]
(p. 747)",2011-03-24 20:12:25 UTC,"""If his imagination be not sickly and feeble, it 'wings its distant way' far beyond himself, and views the world in unceasing activity of every sort.""",2005-09-19 00:00:00 UTC,"A.D. 1777, Aetat. 68","",2009-07-31,"","",Reading,15370,5767
"[...] Yet disappointed as we are, in our researches, the mind gains strength by the exercise, sufficient, perhaps, to comprehend the answers which, in another step of existence, it may receive to the anxious questions it asked, when the understanding with feeble wing was fluttering round the visible effects to dive into the hidden cause.
The passions also, the winds of life, would be useless, if not injurious, did the substance which composes our thinking being, after we have thought in vain, only become the support of vegetable life, and invigorate a cabbage, or blush in a rose. The appetites would answer every earthly purpose, and produce more moderate and permanent happiness. But the powers of the soul are of little use here, and, probably, disturb our animal enjoyments, even while conscious dignity makes us glory in possessing them, prove that life is merely an education, a state of infancy, to which the only hopes worth cherishing should not be sacrificed.
(pp. 106-7)",2012-01-23 16:51:11 UTC,"""Yet disappointed as we are, in our researches, the mind gains strength by the exercise, sufficient, perhaps, to comprehend the answers which, in another step of existence, it may receive to the anxious questions it asked, when the understanding with feeble wing was fluttering round the visible effects to dive into the hidden cause.""",2009-09-14 19:43:33 UTC,Chapter V,"",2012-01-23,Beasts,"",Reading,15398,5775
"If I, he may thus argue, who exercise my own mind, and have been refined by tribulation, find the serpent's egg in some fold of my heart, and crush it with difficulty, shall I not pity those who have stamped with less vigour, or who have heedlessly nurtured the insidious reptile till it poisoned the vital stream it sucked? Can I, conscious of my secret sins, throw off my fellow creatures, and calmly see them drop into the chasm of perdition, that yawns to receive them. No, no! The agonised heart will cry with suffocating impatience--I, too, am a man! and have vices hid perhaps, from human eye, that bend me to the dust before God, and loudly tell me, when all is mute, that we are formed of the same earth, and breathe the same element. Humanity thus rises naturally out of humility, and twists the cords of love that in various convolutions entangle the heart.
(p. 136)",2009-12-30 19:13:40 UTC,"""If I, he may thus argue, who exercise my own mind, and have been refined by tribulation, find the serpent's egg in some fold of my heart, and crush it with difficulty, shall I not pity those who have stamped with less vigour, or who have heedlessly nurtured the insidious reptile till it poisoned the vital stream it sucked?""",2009-09-14 19:43:34 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,15407,5775
"Yon midnight bell, that frights the peaceful air!
Commands the Fathers to their wonted pray'r:
Now in long order flows the sable throng,
Like a dark, sullen stream that creeps along:
Why joins not Abelard the sainted train?
Does torpid sloth his ling'ring steps detain?
These walls, that pillow steep'd in tears, attest
That sleep is exil'd from this tortur'd breast:
This lamp proclaims the same, whose trembling beam
Guides while my hand pursues the glowing theme:
While the dread secret from my soul I tear,
And unreserv'd my bosom'd feelings bare.
Ah me! the passion that my soul misled
Was check'd, not conquer'd; buried, but not dead:
Now bursting from the grave, in evil hour,
It hastens to its prey with fiercer pow'r,
And, vulture-like, with appetite increas'd
It riots on the undiminish'd feast.
Daughter of Paraclete dost thou complain
In iron silence that I lock'd my pain?
That not to thee (soft solacer in woe)
I bad the troubled waves of Anguish flow?
Methought the course of three long years' retreat
Would scarce thy length'ning sacrifice complete:
Methought I should profane the hallow'd rite,
Did my laments thy pitying ear affright:
Thus at the altar, wrapt in holy dread,
The youth of Macedon in silence bled,
Nor from his tortur'd and consuming hand
Dismiss'd the living close-adhering brand[1].
But now thy slow inauguration's o'er,
And thou hast reach'd Religion's tranquil shore,
Now that stern habit throws without controul
Her chain of adamant around thy soul,
May not th' unhappy Abelard disclose
(To her who pities most) his train of woes?",2009-09-14 19:45:31 UTC,"""Ah me! the passion that my soul misled / Was check'd, not conquer'd; buried, but not dead: / Now bursting from the grave, in evil hour, / It hastens to its prey with fiercer pow'r, / And, vulture-like, with appetite increas'd / It riots on the undiminish'd feast.""",2005-02-14 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2009-07-31,"",•I've included twice: Resurrected Corpse and Vulture
•Rich passage,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),16045,6053
"In my opinion, their insolence appears more odious even than their crimes. The horrors of the 5th and 6th of October were less detestable than the festival of the 14th of July. There are situations (God forbid I should think that of the 5th and 6th of October one of them) in which the best men may be confounded with the worst, and in the darkness and confusion, in the press and medley of such extremities, it may not be so easy to discriminate the one from the other. The necessities created, even by ill designs, have their excuse. They may be forgotten by others, when the guilty themselves do not choose to cherish their recollection, and by ruminating their offences, nourish themselves through the example of their past, to the perpetration of future crimes. It is in the relaxation of security, it is in the expansion of prosperity, it is in the hour of dilatation of the heart, and of its softening into festivity and pleasure, that the real character of men is discerned. If there is any good in them, it appears then or never. Even wolves and tigers, when gorged with their prey, are safe and gentle. It is at such times that noble minds give all the reins to their good nature. They indulge their genius even to intemperance, in kindness to the afflicted, in generosity to the conquered; forbearing insults, forgiving injuries, overpaying benefits. Full of dignity themselves, they respect dignity in all, but they feel it sacred in the unhappy. But it is then, and basking in the sunshine of unmerited fortune, that low, sordid, ungenerous, and reptile souls swell with their hoarded poisons; it is then that they display their odious splendor, and shine out in full lustre of their native villainy and baseness. It is in that season that no man of sense or honour can be mistaken for one of them. It was in such a season, for them of political ease and security, though their people were but just emerged from actual famine, and were ready to be plunged into the gulf of penury and beggary, that your philosophic lords chose, with an ostentatious pomp and luxury, to feast an incredible number of idle and thoughtless people, collected, with art and pains, from all quarters of the world. They constructed a vast amphitheatre in which they raised a species of pillory. On this pillory they set their lawful king and queen, with an insulting figure over their heads. There they exposed these objects of pity and respect to all good minds to the derision of an unthinking and unprincipled multitude, degenerated even from the versatile tenderness which marks the irregular and capricious feelings of the populace. That their cruel insult might have nothing wanting to complete it, they chose the anniversary of that day in which they exposed the life of their prince to the most imminent dangers, and the vilest indignities, just following the instant when the assassins, whom they had hired without owning, first openly took up arms against their king, corrupted his guards, surprised his castle, butchered some of the poor invalids of his garrison, murdered his governor, and, like wild beasts, tore to pieces the chief magistrate of his capital city, on account of his fidelity to his service.
(pp. 26-9)",2013-05-07 20:57:37 UTC,"""But it is then, and basking in the sunshine of unmerited fortune, that low, sordid, ungenerous, and reptile souls swell with their hoarded poisons; it is then that they display their odious splendour, and shine out in full lustre of their native villainy and baseness.""",2013-05-07 20:57:23 UTC,"","",,Animals,"",Reading,20160,7388
"Just as she had by this manner of reasoning brought her mind to some tolerable degree of composure, she was surprised by a visit from Belcour. The dejection visible in Charlotte's countenance, her swoln eyes and neglected attire, at once told him she was unhappy: he made no doubt but Montraville had, by his coldness, alarmed her suspicions, and was resolved, if possible, to rouse her to jealousy, urge her to reproach him, and by that means occasion a breach between them. ""If I can once convince her that she has a rival,"" said he, ""she will listen to my passion if it is only to revenge his slights."" Belcour knew but little of the female heart; and what he did know was only of those of loose and dissolute lives. He had no idea that a woman might fall a victim to imprudence, and yet retain so strong a sense of honour, as to reject with horror and contempt every solicitation to a second fault. He never imagined that a gentle, generous female heart, once tenderly attached, when treated with unkindness might break, but would never harbour a thought of revenge.
His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion in the heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour of her life.
(II.xx, pp. 20-2; p. 76 in Penguin edition)",2013-05-29 19:30:58 UTC,"""His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion in the heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour of her life.""",2013-05-29 19:30:58 UTC,Chapter XX ,"",,Animals,"",Reading,20233,7396
"BOSWELL.
""Pray, Sir, is not Foote an infidel?""
JOHNSON.
""I do not know, Sir, that the fellow is an infidel; but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to say, he has never thought upon the subject.""
BOSWELL.
""I suppose, Sir, he has thought superficially, and seized the first notions which occurred to his mind.""
JOHNSON.
""Why then, Sir, still he is like a dog, that snatches the piece next him. Did you never observe that dogs have not the power of comparing? A dog will take a small bit of meat as readily as a large, when both are before him.""
(I, pp. 321-2)",2014-04-25 04:00:02 UTC,"""I suppose, Sir, he has thought superficially, and seized the first notions which occurred to his mind. … Why then, Sir, still he is like a dog""",2014-04-25 03:59:07 UTC,"","",,Animals,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,23807,5767
"There lurks, perhaps, in every human heart a desire of distinction, which inclines every man first to hope, and then to believe, that Nature has given him something peculiar to himself. This vanity makes one mind nurse aversions, and another actuate desires, till they rise by art much above their original state of power; and as affectation, in time, improves to habit, they at last tyrannise over him who at first encouraged them only for show. Every desire is a viper in the bosom, who, while he was chill, was harmless; but when warmth gave him strength, exerted it in poison. You know a gentle∣man, who, when first he set his foot in the gay world, as he prepared himself to whirl in the vortex of pleasure, imagined a total indifference and universal negligence to be the most agreeable concomitants of youth, and the strongest indication of an airy temper and a quick apprehension. Vacant to every object, and sensible of every impulse, he thought that all appearance of dili∣gence would deduct something from the reputation of genius; and hoped that he should appear to attain, amidst all the ease of carelessness and all the tumult of diversion, that knowledge and those accomplishments which mortals of the common fabrick obtain only by mute abstraction and solitary drudgery. He tried this scheme of life awhile, was made weary of it by his sense and his virtue, he then wished to return to his studies; and finding long habits of idleness and pleasure harder to be cured than he expected, still willing to retain his claim to some extraordinary prerogatives, resolved the common consequences of irregularity into an unalterable decree of destiny, and concluded that Nature had originally formed him incapable of rational employment.
(I, p. 259)",2014-06-22 17:17:59 UTC,"""Every desire is a viper in the bosom, who, while he was chill, was harmless; but when warmth gave him strength, exerted it in poison.""",2014-06-22 17:17:59 UTC,"Letter from Samuel Johnson to James Boswell (London, 8 December 1763)","",,Animals,"",Reading,24117,5767