[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]

{Decline of the British Empire}[25th April 1971]

[Redbook1:203][19710425]{Decline of the British Empire}[25th April 1971]

25. April 1971.

            Possibly the decline of the British Empire began when the men who ruled it considered it an end in itself.

[PostedBlogger01072013]

{Income and Expectations}[22nd April 1971]

[Redbook1:203][19710422]{Income and Expectations}[22nd April 1971]

22. April 1971.

            Odd, how expectations always rise faster than income.

[PostedBlogger30062013]

{Racial Identity}[12th April 1971]

[Redbook1:202-203][19710412]{Racial Identity}[12th April 1971

12th April 1971 [continued]

            An interesting remark on television tonight: racial awareness is a form of search for identity.  It is perhaps like a series of boxes, each within the last, until the final self-knowledge is reached.  Now all we need to do is to remove some of those boxes from the process in men's minds.

[PostedBlogger29062013]

{Ridicule}[10th April 1971]

[Redbook1:202][19710412]{Ridicule}[10th April 1971]

12th April 1971

            One weapon we have not considered using against violence in Ulster: ridicule.  They are children, after all; why not tell them so?  And tell each other so that they may hear?

[but see p125]

  

[PostedBlogger28062013]

{Anarchy and Stability}[10th April 1971]

[Redbook1:202][19710410]{Anarchy and Stability}[10th April 1971]

10th April 1971

            The borderline between stability and anarchy is very fine, and close to us; which side we stay of it depends not so much on the Law as on people's awareness of their whole danger.

            Therefore I do not object to killing in films; but I object to casual killing, very strongly.  That is why I disliked ‘Where Eagles Dare’, which I have just seen, so much: not because it was a weak plot (which it was) with shallow meaning (which is understandable) and too black-and-white; but because people flashed onto the screen, died, and disappeared.  There was fear, but no pain; there was death, but no bereavement.  And there was laughter in the audience at a neat way of killing.

[PostedBlogger26for27062013]

{Reason and Emotion}[31st March 1971]

[Redbook1:200-201][19710331b]{Reason and Emotion}[31st March 1971]

31.03.71. [continued]

            You have to look at the other side and say: if I had been born there, would I do as they do?  And would I do as I do?  If the answer to that last question is no, then your beliefs are based on emotion and not reason, and you should look very carefully at them.

            Not that emotion is wrong -- far from it.  Pure reason is unusual and rather frightening.  Emotion is the product of instinct, largely, and instinct is a good servant: modify its conclusions with reason and you may arrive at something resembling common sense.  You are unlikely to arrive at it any other way, unless you are one of the few lucky ones whose instinct is common sense.

            Oh yes, there is a quality which helps, a kind of catalyst to reason and emotion, and that is imagination.

            Emotion alone is indescribable: perhaps it is a kind of madness.  Emotion as master controlling the voices of reason and not modified by them, can be subtle and dangerous.  Pure reason is claimed by many who do not and will not ever wield it: it is deceptive, claiming utter truth, and hates men.  It is cold.

            Let emotion show you the road and reason guide you up on it; but do not carelessly allow reason to change your road, nor emotion your speed upon it.  Is this a valid parallel?  I distrust it!  Perhaps for emotion I should say instinct direct; but there something is lost.

[PostedBlogger26062013]

{Reaction}[31st March 1971]

[Redbook1:200][19710331a]{Reaction}[31st March 1971]

31.03.71. [continued]

            Revolution should be understood in its other sense, and rebellion is meaningless; there is only reaction.

(L)

[PostedBlogger24for25062013]

{History}[31st March 1971]

[Redbook1:200][19710331]{History}[31st March 1971]

31.03.71.

            Don't you feel history coming up behind you? 

(L)

[PostedBlogger24062013]

{Politics, Ethics and Morals}[8th March 1971]

[Redbook1:200][19710308]{Politics, Ethics and Morals}[8th March 1971]

08.03.71.

            I should like to set down at various times my thoughts on politics/mass life, so that over the next few entries some very inconsistent idea of my own ‘political’ views may appear.

            A key element in my own ‘political’ ‘philosophy’ is the division of morals or ethics into what might be called ‘micro-morals’ and ‘macro-morals’: respectively, man's private and individual behaviour affecting no one but himself, and his (public?)  behaviour affecting other people who have no original wish to be affected.

[PostedBlogger22for23062013]

{Time}[19th February 1971]

[Redbook1:199][19710219]{Time}[19th February 1971]

19.2.71.

            ‘ “You presume to capture time in that absurd little box!” she exclaimed.  “ Don't you know yet that time is reckoned not by duration but by intensity?  One instant of happiness or of pain lasts longer than ten years of indifference.” ’ (From Nina Sol, [by] Felix Marti-Ibanez)

[PostedBlogger22062013]

{Crisis}[17th February 1971]

[Redbook1:199][19710217d]{Crisis}[17th February 1971]

17.2.71. [continued]

            Cambridge is doing something to me.  I don't like Cambridge, and (in general) the people in it, though I like them well enough individually, on the whole, or at least I don't dislike them.  Law is boring and lawyers are imaginative and uncreative.  My own literary urge has risen since I arrived here until I find that it is beginning to tear me away from law.  And yet, what I write is objectively nothing.  I'm not much good at law, either.  Shall I have to make up my mind, soon?  I am changing all the time, even since I arrived.  Can I stay here and risk *shattering myself, or stunting my own creative potential?

*[splitting]

[PostedBlogger21062013]

{Birth of God}[17th February 1971]

[Redbook1:198-199][19710217c][Birth of God][17th February 1971]

17.2.71. [continued]

            Oddly enough, before this happened I was already finding myself, rather to my own surprise, moving round to an acceptance of God as a definitely acceptable possibility rather than what he had been in my mind, an ignored possibility.  I certainly have not got there yet, and may never; but the third book, or rather the second world, helped in an odd way to swing me round.  For there, God is so necessary and so natural that I began to wonder if I was not deceiving myself as to my attitudes to him in this world (or universe or plane or creation).  This is strange indeed; for several years I have argued that I cannot accept the religion of Christianity, only its ethics; now I find myself accepting, or being ready to accept, a modified form of the religion, but not the Christian bit.

            For it is modified.  I still like the idea of God as the universal Mind into which we are absorbed on death, which needs our experiences here to give it strength and structure, and thus wisdom.  For pure mind without experience must be something like pure force:  potentially magnificent, but of no practical value unless channelled in wires etc. and applied to machinery.  Such a mind would not need to be impersonal -- indeed, it could hardly be impersonal, composed as it is entirely of the very essence of personality.

            The great beauty of the theory is that it can embrace practically all religions without losing its own essential identity or compromising them.

[PostedBlogger20062013]