[River.II.[ix]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.[ix]][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[ix]

*

                                                        On my back the children float

                                                        Cheerful in their home-made boat

                                                        And I love them for their joy:

                                                        Pretty girl or clear-skinned boy.

                                                        All the day I gently pace them;

                                                        Softly through their dreams I chase them:

                                                        In the dawn again I face them,

                                                        Careful, tenderly embrace them.

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger3007for02082013]

[River.II.[viii]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.[viii]][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[viii]

*

                                                ‘Furthest outpost of the industrial North

                                                We bring you clearer water from the Hills’:

                                                But from a hundred grimy, blackened mills

                                                Only filth and slime pours or oozes forth.

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger3007for01082013]

[River.II.[vii]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.[vii]][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[vii]

*

                                                        In my middle-age

        Youth joined me,

        Crystal water from the chalk:

        ‘A child on wind-swept fields I played,

        And among the trees I wandered:

        And I sang in the hills;

        I grew with the wind in my blood,

        And the rain fed me;

        But the red sun sank in the West,

        And chill mists rose from the water;

        Light faded; cold tightened;

        And love was stifled by fellowship:

        I went, weeping in grey lands.

      ‘Times change: Love I found

       In the shadows of that mound;

       Time passes: Love I lost

       In the deep World sharply tossed.’

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger30for31072013]

[River.II.[vi]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.[vi]][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[vi]

*

                                                How nice, to wear a learned frown,

                                                How nice to sport a scholar’s gown,

                                                How nice to be in Oxford town,

                                                            And live an Academic.

                                                My child, if you can’t see, or hear;

If you can kill without a tear,

And keep within your silver sphere:

            You’ll be an academic.

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger30072013]

[River.II.[v]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.[v]][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[v]

*

            I sit, beneath the apple tree, and watch the River’s seaward roll; and as I watch, it seems to me I hear the great bell slowly toll one death.  Oh God!  Again a cry rings through the chattering rapid’s song and stirs once more the depth of my old grief.  Oh Christ!  How long?  How long in pain must I recall: so  might my memories float away; a mist of tears now veils my failing sight: ‘All’s passed – all’s passed!’ the rushes hissed, and stirred within the fading light: so might I glimpse the child I missed and miss again, in gathering night, a ghost that leaves me, shadow-kist.

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger30for29072013]

[River.II.[iv]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.[iv]][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[iv]

*

                                                                    The family cruise:

                                                                    ‘The rope, quick!

                                                                     No, no, thick!

                                                                     I don’t care whose....’

                                                                    ‘Darling, you said....’

                                                                    ‘Use your head!

                                                                      ---- The ROPE!’

                                                                    ‘I can’t just grope....’

                                                                    ‘For God’s sake!

                                                                    Aren’t you awake?’

                                                                   ‘Oh, Go to Hell!’

                                                                    In the well,

                                                                    Out of sight,

                                                                    Into fright,

                                                                    Children dear

                                                                    Crouch in fear.’

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger28072013]

[River.II.[iii]][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.(iii)][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]

[iii]

*

                                                        ‘Do you see that stinking ditch

                                                         That meanders rank and free?

                                                         There once a wide canal joined Thames

                                                         To Bristol’s rolling sea.’

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger27072013]

[River.II.(ii)[28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728][River.II.(ii)][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.  II.

[continued]
(ii)

*

                                                                    Here water flows

                                                                    And comfort brings

                                                                    To country town

                                                                    With ancient seal

                                                                    Now shaken down

                                                                    By iron wheel.

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger26072013]

[River.II.(i)][28th July 1971ff]

[Redbook1:211C-T][19710728ff][River.II.(i)][28th July 1971ff]

28.7.71.[and later][continued]

River.II.

(i)

                                                                      No one knows

                                                                      Where I grows

                                                                      When I sings

                                                                      In my springs.

*

[continues]

[PostedBlogger25072013]

[River.I.][28th July 1971]

[Redbook1:211A-B][19710728][River.I.][28th July 1971]

28.7.71.

River.  I.

                                                Bubbling in spring,

                                                My strength from the hills,

                                                Collected in rills,

                                                Dithers through runnels,

                                                Running in tunnels

                                                Of grass; through the fields

                                                I grow.

                                                Through fields of grass

                                                More slowly I pass;

                                                In Summer's fair land

                                                I wear the green strand;

                                                I bear many boats,

                                                Or anything floats;

                                                And things that sink

                                                And long drink,

                                                More slowly pass,

                                                (My flood restrained)

                                                I gnaw.

                                                My banks chained

                                                By Man’s shore:

                                                Where country wanes,

                                                And town gains,

                                                Where Autumn rains,

                                                I pour.

                                                No more I sing;

                                                Man wields

                                                From noisome conduits

                                                All power.

                                                All power:

                                                Grey skies shine my sullen flow;

                                                Rain on the hard lands; Grey, I grow.

                                                Tall stacks dark clouds pour;

                                                I feel red furnace roar.

                                                Now I breathe, and breathe not; Gulls call;

                                                I drift the wreck of years:

                                                All life ends in bitter tears,

                                                And ashes fall.

                                                In the Sea-Wind,

                                                To Oceans wide

                                                My slow roll

                                                Goes....

[continues]

[PostedBlogger24072013]

{Public and Private Benefit}[29th June 1971]

[Redbook1:211][19710629]{Public and Private Benefit}[29th June 1971]

Tuesday 29th June 1971

            Possibly this is the first time that the (practical) good of the race/society and the (ethical) good of the individual have come into such direct and open conflict.

[PostedBlogger23072013]

{Prophecy [continued]}[21st June 1971]

[Redbook1:208-210][19710621a]{Prophecy [continued]}[21st June 1971]

Monday 21st June 1971 [continued]

            One thing that many agree on is that a time of trouble is coming -- but you don't have to be a prophet to believe that.  Nor surprisingly do you have to deduce it to know it.  Of course, the recent history of civilised man is a series of closely-spaced troubles, and instinct may justifiably conclude that these will continue to occur.  But instinct may take account of present trends in more detail, and we should pay attention at least to the effects of that belief, even if not to their accuracy.

            The most worrying thing about prophecy is not its ‘supernatural’ origin: I do not believe in ‘the supernatural’, because I believe that everything can be explained at some level (It is the label that is wrong).  What is difficult to reconcile with reality is the time-machine paradox: if you go back in time to kill your father as a child, you will not be born, so you will not kill your father, so you will be born, so you will kill your father ... etc..  Probability prophecy gets round this to some extent: this would explain what Nostradamus prophesied which hasn't happened; it might have happened.  Otherwise the future would be unchangeable for us once prophesied by him -- an appalling thought.  But the probability theory itself would need a certain re-adjustment of orthodox academic approaches to history.

[PostedBlogger22072013]

{Prophecy}[21st June 1971]

[Redbook1:208-210][19710621]{Prophecy}[21st June 1971]

Monday 21st June 1971

            I suppose prophecy is comforting and attractive because it offers an apparent certainty in an uncertain world.

            One has to be very careful not to be taken in by likely generalisations.

            Prophecies of Nostradamus on World Events: the commentary is awful, although there is much research behind it (or there seems to be).  It is interesting to compare the editor’s application of Nostradamus to the editor’s near future (our recent past) -- how wrong the editor was: how dangerous is interpretation.  Nevertheless some of Nostradamus's prophecies correspond too closely to our history to be easily explicable; some of his prophecies for the end of this century are fascinating.  What on earth do they mean?  He is singularly unhelpful in enabling us to see the future, however right he may be.  I should like to see what the editor left out, of Nostradamus's prophecies.

            I should also like to see Jean Dixon's new book.  If she is honest, there is no doubt about her ability: perhaps because she is more recent, her prophecies appear clearer.  But we are only now beginning to hear about her prophecies of things which have not yet happened.  Her prophecies concerning the end of the century appear superficially similar to Nostradamus's.  Has she read him?

            I pat myself on the back for a minor (and very easy) prophecy (something that was already happening, although I didn't know it then): that as 2,000 a.d. approached we would see a repeat of the speculation which occurred as 1,000 a.d. approached, when the millennium [sic – end of the world?] was widely expected.  That is deduction -- but at what level?

           

            Seriously, already we see the reaction against technology and science which may bring the other side of Man's nature to the fore again.

[continues]

[PostedBlogger21072013]

{Cycles of Civilisation}[17th June 1971]

[Redbook1:208][19710617]{Cycles of Civilisation}[17th June 1971]

Thursday 17th June 1971

            (I say again....)

           

            We might expect civilised development to come in cycles: as each people becomes more civilised so it forgets the dangers of anarchy and sees only its temptations; and it becomes bored with civilisation/stability.  The longer the time elapsed since the last period of anarchy, and the less upsetting that period, the greater the danger of renewed anarchy -- as a general rule, in theory.

[PostedBlogger20072013]

{Socialism and Selection}[16th June 1971]

[Redbook1:207-208][19710616b]{Socialism and Selection}[16th June 1971

16th June 1971 [continued]

            Socialism appeals to me, in theory; the trouble is its inability to select the right people for the job.  Capitalism is better at this, though not good -- because its aims are restricted.

[PostedBlogger19072013]

{The Medical Treadmill}[16th June 1971]

[Redbook1:207][19710616a]{The Medical Treadmill}[16th June 1971]

16th June 1971 [continued]

            A possible future: so many of the unfit survive that Man has to work harder to pay for the medical treatment simply to keep himself alive.

            Genetic engineering will become a necessity.

[PostedBlogger18072013]

{Moscow}[15th June 1971]

[Redbook1:207][19710615]{Moscow}[15th June 1971]

15th June 1971

            I have no great objection to rule from Moscow; what frightens me is the thought of rule by Moscow -- by the people who rule in Moscow.

            It would seem logical to harness the industry of the West of our continent to the opening of the East.  It is not in fact the ‘ideology’ which stands between us -- it is the method, the details of application and enforcement.

[PostedBlogger16072013]

{Vacant Possession}[12th June 1971]

[Redbook1:206][19710612]{Vacant Possession}[12th June 1971]

12th June 1971.

            I suppose it is a creative urge; but it feels at times more like a yawning emptiness that is almost physical.  At the same time it is a power within that expands and explodes and will not be denied.

            And yet I have committed myself to law for two more years, and I know that I can only do it if I put aside the book.  I think that is right; I cannot write such a book except with the whole of myself, and even that is not yet enough.  But already I feel the strain.

            At times it seems that I see the whole world spread out before me in all detail, and I know that something is wrong; I know that the key, or the keys, are there in plain view, and I cannot see them.

            Only by writing, it seems, can I soothe this urge, or fill this emptiness, or solve this problem.

            But my style is appalling, my written thoughts are ignorant, inexperienced and incoherent, and I cannot set down accurately what I feel.

[PostedBlogger15072013]

{....}[26th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205-206][19710526e]{....}[26th May 1971]

26th May 1971 [continued]

            [....]

[PostedBlogger13for14072013]

{Britten’s War Requiem}[26th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205][19710526d]{Britten’s War Requiem}[26th May 1971]

26th May 1971 [continued]

            Britten’s War Requiem runs with my thoughts now, most of the time.  An amazing man he must be: I hope I meet him before he dies.

[PostedBlogger13072013]

{I want to write}[26th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205][19710526c]{I want to write}[26th May 1971]

26th May 1971 [continued]

            I want to write: more than anything else.  I am not good at it; but I am learning.

            If I was a stronger character, I would either concentrate on law or leave and write.  But I cannot do the former and I may not do the other.

[PostedBlogger12072013]

{Examination}[26th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205][19710526b]{Examination}[26th May 1971]

26th May 1971 [continued]

            I resent this tyranny of the exam room.  The thought of failure does not worry me much now; what frightens me is the ordeal of the examination chamber itself.

[PostedBlogger11072013]

{Struggle within}[26th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205][19710526a]{Struggle within}[26th May 1971]

26th May 1971 [continued]

            There is something within me that struggles, pushes, and tears.

[PostedBlogger10072013]

{Fear}[26th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205][19710526]{Fear}[26th May 1971][Aged 20]

26th May 1971

            Of course most of the anti-sympathetic characteristics that bedevil us are based on fear.

[PostedBlogger09072013]

{Cambridge}[21st May 1971]

[Redbook1:205][19710521]{Cambridge}[21st May 1971]

21st May 1971

            Cambridge comes with the greatest loss I have known

            It is the fading of a dream

            Cambridge is nothing to me

[PostedBlogger08072013]

[Mother Church][11th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205A-D][19710511][Mother Church][11th May 1971]

11.5.71

Mother Church.

                                    The priestling

                                    dances on the alter-rail and sings:

                                    ‘I am the Light that life and comfort brings’.

                                    The audience roared;

                                    Their spirits soared.  The Spirit fled:

                                    ‘They say that God is dead:

                                    ‘See, see, he lives!

                                    ‘Here is the life that light and comfort gives!

                                    ‘Here is God!’

                                    Processional hymn:

                                    Slow chanting, hooded, flickering candle-light.

                                    The World is dizzy-bright;

                                    True life is dim.

                                    We kept our lives for God: we gave ourselves

                                    (‘We kept our lives ... ourselves’).

                                    Who spoke?!

                                    It’s only echo... oh...

                                    rebounding from the stony inner walls:

                                    Here is God.

                                    The Bishop speaks.

                                    Electrons blow his muted thunderous words

                                    in murmurous fluting tones

                                    beyond his breath:

                                    ‘So.  What is death?’

                                    Faint voice returns:

                                    ‘You are.’

                                    The crowd rustles, murmurs, wakes.

‘The Spirit burns!’ the voice calls back.  ‘It shakes, trembles:

it is Fire!’

                                    Do you feel it?  Do you, now?  Can you?

                                    The people remember: their loss:

                                    ‘Don’t give us talk you old sod

                                    Give us God!’

                                     The Oxbridge Social Friar

is having a little Tea:

we terribly much desire –

our hearts are all on fire –

to raise your souls on high... er...

that you will come to tea.

It’s jolly good fun, you’ll see.

Oh... and there’ll be a girl there, too:

a good sort.

                                    Solomon, Sexy.Sociable.Fascinating.

I love God.

A.B. of C.

Are you DEF?

Is Big G really dead?

have you been HI?

when they murdered JK

did you talk about ’L?

did you warn ’M?

NO.

P.Q.R., is it? – no S? – where are you?

T? – now? – no thanks...

who are U?

V have vays... haha!

W?? ... oh, I see: divided: torn apart... yes...

seX? Why?

-- I said.

Is God In?

We want to redevelop Cloister Row:

We’re told that flats with shops above would pay

(Today they say the Church must pay its way).

I’m very much afraid you’re going to have to go.

In God’s name.

From the Steps of Saint Peter’s I bring you good tidings

                        to lighten your hearts with an infinite joy.

            We know that God can’t tell us,

            but we think if he could tell us,

            this is what he would have told us,

            So this is what he told us:

Any form of intervention

In that miracle, conception,

Intending its prevention

By the means of contraception,

That Devil’s own invention,

Is quite out of the question.

‘Oh, my God.’

Come out over the City.

See what the eye sees: the swirling, shifting pattern of crowds.

Hear what the ear hears: meaningless noise, pure meaning.

Taste the mingled odours of the City.

Now: open your mind.

Do you know the People?

Do you know the pattern of the City?

Do you see, hear, smell, taste, feel it? –

‘I am God.’

[PostedBlogger07072013]

{Muscular Christianity}[5th May 1971]

[Redbook1:204][19710505]{Muscular Christianity}[5th May 1971]

5. May 1971

            It may be that [the headmaster at my last school] has tried to progress from the ideal of ‘muscular Christianity’ in [the school], but I feel that my resultant state of departure could well be described as ‘shivering agnosticism’.

[PostedBlogger06072013]

{The Speed of Money}[1st May 1971]

[Redbook1:204][19710501]{The Speed of Money}[1st May 1971]

1. May 1971

            Nothing goes faster than money.

[PostedBlogger05072013]

{The Child of Laughter}[29th April 1971]

[Redbook1:204][19710429]{The Child of Laughter}[29th April 1971]

29. April 1971

            I lay asleep in my bedroom, this morning.  The door knocked, and opened; the child of laughter entered.

            ‘Hello.’ he said.

            I stared.

            ‘You should know me.’ he said.

            I nearly had it: he was on the edge of my mind.

            ‘You know me.’ he said.

[PostedBlogger04072013]

{Memory Tests}[28th April 1971]

[Redbook1:203][19710428]{Memory Tests}[28th April 1971]

28. April 1971

            It annoys me intensely that I have to force myself into sterile feats of memory, knowing

(1) that in the practice of law the important knowledge is not ‘how?’ or ‘what?’ but ‘where?’, and

(2) that in the near future electronic aids will very probably be available to make complex memory unnecessary.

[PostedBlogger03072013]

{Mysticism and Ethics}[26th April 1971]

[Redbook1:203][19710426]{Mysticism and Ethics}[26th April 1971]

26. April 1971

            Religion is, perhaps, ethics sold by mysticism.  Whether mysticism becomes more scientifically based or is simply rejected, it will probably be unsuitable as an encouragement to ethics.  What else can we find to support ethics in the minds of men?  Love?  Sex?

[PostedBlogger02072013]