Chagrin

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The First Paul: Reclaiming the Radical Visionary Behind the Church's Conservative Icon (2009)

  Fourth, Paul uses the verb “to work hard” (kopiaō ) to mean dedicated apostolic activity. He applies it to himself twice, in Galatians 4:11 and 1 Corinthians 15:10. But here he uses it four times and exclusively for women, for Mary (16:6), Tryphaena, Tryphosa, and Persis (16:12). Finally, we return to that Junia just mentioned (16:7), to a case that would be comic if it were not tragic. For the first millennium of Christianity, commentators recognized correctly that Junia was a female name. She was the wife of Andronicus as Prisc[ill]a was the wife of Aquila. Then, for the second millennium of Christianity, she was turned into a male. Junia, so the claim went, was short for the male name Junianus. That, however, was patently untrue because, although there were over 250 known cases of a female Junia in antiquity, there was not a single one of a male Junia as the abbreviation of Junianus. The reason for that rather desperate claim was also quite clear. If Junia were allowed to remain a female, then, since she was “prominent among the apostles,” it was obviously possible for a woman to be an apostle. Paul, of course, had no problem with that combination of gender and function. For him women as well as men were called by God to be apostles of Christ. The Christian gender equality that existed in marriage and home also prevailed in assembly and apostolate. THE CONSERVATIVE PAUL ON PATRIARCHY We are back once more with the ethics for extended families seen above with regard to slavery. Read with us through these full household codes for specifically Christian homes. As you do so, notice their multiple layers of hierarchy. Vertically from top to bottom the order is descending, from parents to children to slaves. Horizontally within each set the order is from inferior to superior: first wives, then husbands; first children, then fathers; first slaves, then masters: wives and husbands Colossians 3:18, 19 Ephesians 5:22–24, 25–33 children and fathers Colossians 3:20, 21 Ephesians 6:1–3, 4 slaves and masters Colossians 3:22–25; 4:1 Ephesians 6:5–8, 9 You will also notice that, internally, it is not a matter of children and parents, but of children and fathers, and not of slaves and owners, but of slaves and masters . Actually, as we saw above in Roman attitudes toward slaves, a Roman paterfamilias, or father of the household, would probably consider the above admonitions far too liberal. First of all, they require mutual and reciprocal, even if unequal and hierarchical, obligations. Second, those deemed inferiors—wives, children, slaves—are addressed directly and not through their presumed superiors—husbands, fathers, masters. Be that as it may, we focus here on wives and husbands to emphasize how, in those two texts, Pauline Christian gender equality is deradicalized back into Roman gender hierarchy: Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. (Col. 3:18) Husbands, love your wives and never treat them harshly. (Col.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  It may be counterintuitive, but it’s been my experience as a therapist that increased emotional intimacy is often accompanied by decreased sexual desire. This is indeed a puzzling inverse correlation: the breakdown of desire appears to be an unintentional consequence of the creation of intimacy. I can think of many couples whose opening lines in my office go something like this: “We really love each other. We have a good relationship. But we don’t have sex.” Joe relishes Rafael’s intense interest in him but doesn’t like being engulfed physically—Joe will only be a “top.” Susan and Jenny feel closer than ever after they adopt their first child together, but that closeness does not translate into sensuality. Adele and Alan refer to their nights away at a hotel as intimate, but not particularly passionate. Despite their erotic frustrations, these couples seem to share a fine intimacy, not a lack thereof. Andrew and Serena are clear that sex has been an issue from the beginning, and that regardless of how much their relationship has flourished, it is never enough to charge them erotically. Before she met Andrew, Serena had experienced a luscious sexual life in a number of long-term relationships. In her experience, mounting intimacy had consistently led to better sex, so she was surprised when it didn’t work that way with Andrew. When I asked her why she stayed with him when from the first date she didn’t feel desired by him, she answered, “I thought we’d work on it. That with love it would get better.” “Sometimes it is the love that stands in the way,” I explained, “so just the opposite happens.” Listening to these men and women has led me to rethink what I had long assumed about the correlation between intimacy and sexuality. Rather than looking at sex as an exclusive outgrowth of the emotional relationship, I’ve come to see it as a separate entity. Sexuality is more than a metaphor for the relationship—it stands on its own as a parallel narrative. The intimate story of a couple can indeed tell us a lot about their erotic life, but it can’t tell us everything. There is a complex relationship between love and desire, and it is not a cause-and-effect, linear arrangement. A couple’s emotional life together and their physical life together each have their ebbs and flows, their ups and downs, but these don’t always correspond. They intersect, they influence each other, but they’re also distinct. That’s one reason why, to the chagrin of many, you can often “fix” a relationship without doing anything for the sex. Maybe intimacy only sometimes begets sexuality. Separateness Is a Precondition for Connection It is too easily assumed that problems with sex are the result of a lack of closeness.

• From Momma and the Meaning of Life (1999)

  The therapist’s delight when a taxing and unpleasant patient decides to terminate, his boredom with a particular patient and the subsequent use of that boredom as a guide in therapy, the therapist’s chagrin at the damage his patient has inflicted on another, his yearning to redress that wrong, lapses in which he loses sight of his patient’s best interests, his grandiose rescue fantasies, his lustful fascination with a character in a patient’s life, his dilemma about whether healers are ever off duty—all of these foibles, and more, are taken from my personal experience. The final surreal dialogue between man and ninth-lifer cat is meant to represent a type of truth—a therapeutic inquiry into the ultimate concern of death. A few attributions for that discussion are in order: the psychologist who said that many refuse the loan of life to avoid the debt of death was Otto Rank. The ancient philosopher who said “Where death is, I am not; where I am, death is not” was Lucretius, expounding upon Epicurus. And Nabokov was the Russian writer who, in his autobiography, Speak, Memory, pictured life as a brilliant spark between two vast and identical pools of darkness: the darkness existing before birth and the darkness following death. The same image is to be found in Schopenhauer, with whom, no doubt, Nabokov was familiar. I have deeply disguised the identity of all the patients and acquaintances who appear in these stories. Some of the events described took place long ago and many of the characters are dead. All those who provided incidents or dreams read the manuscript in both early and final draft and gave me permission to publish it. Irvin D. Yalom, M.D. *Yalom, I., Greaves, C., “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal of Psychiatry, 134:4, April 1977, pp. 396-400; Spiegel, D., Yalom, I., “A Support Group for Dying Patients,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 28:2, April 1978; Spiegel, D., Bloom, J., Yalom, I., “Group Support for Metastatic Cancer Patients: A Randomized Prospective Outcome Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry, 38:527-534, May 1981. *Yalom, I., Vinogradov, S., “Bereavement Groups: Techniques and Themes,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 38:4, October 1988; Yalom, I., Lieberman, M., “Bereavement and Heightened Existential Awareness,” Psychiatry, 1992. Author’s Note In this book, I have tried to be both storyteller and teacher. On the occasions when these two roles conflicted and I had to choose between inserting a juicy pedagogical comment and maintaining the dramatic pace of the story, I almost always put the story first and attempted to fulfill my teaching mission through indirect discourse. Readers interested in a fuller discussion may consult my Web page: www.yalom.com. There I provide relevant references to the professional literature and discuss a number of technical aspects of these six tales: patient confidentiality, the boundary between fiction and nonfiction, the therapeutic relationship, the here-and-now ahistoric approach, therapist transparency, existential therapeutic approaches, and bereavement dynamics.

• From Momma and the Meaning of Life (1999)

  Though “The Hungarian Cat Curse” is my most fictional and fantastical tale, it is studded with real events and issues. The therapist’s delight when a taxing and unpleasant patient decides to terminate, his boredom with a particular patient and the subsequent use of that boredom as a guide in therapy, the therapist’s chagrin at the damage his patient has inflicted on another, his yearning to redress that wrong, lapses in which he loses sight of his patient’s best interests, his grandiose rescue fantasies, his lustful fascination with a character in a patient’s life, his dilemma about whether healers are ever off duty—all of these foibles, and more, are taken from my personal experience. The final surreal dialogue between man and ninth-lifer cat is meant to represent a type of truth—a therapeutic inquiry into the ultimate concern of death. A few attributions for that discussion are in order: the psychologist who said that many refuse the loan of life to avoid the debt of death was Otto Rank. The ancient philosopher who said “Where death is, I am not; where I am, death is not” was Lucretius, expounding upon Epicurus. And Nabokov was the Russian writer who, in his autobiography, Speak, Memory, pictured life as a brilliant spark between two vast and identical pools of darkness: the darkness existing before birth and the darkness following death. The same image is to be found in Schopenhauer, with whom, no doubt, Nabokov was familiar. I have deeply disguised the identity of all the patients and acquaintances who appear in these stories. Some of the events described took place long ago and many of the characters are dead. All those who provided incidents or dreams read the manuscript in both early and final draft and gave me permission to publish it. Irvin D. Yalom, M.D. *Yalom, I., Greaves, C., “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal of Psychiatry, 134:4, April 1977, pp. 396-400; Spiegel, D., Yalom, I., “A Support Group for Dying Patients,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 28:2, April 1978; Spiegel, D., Bloom, J., Yalom, I., “Group Support for Metastatic Cancer Patients: A Randomized Prospective Outcome Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry, 38:527-534, May 1981.*Yalom, I., Vinogradov, S., “Bereavement Groups: Techniques and Themes,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 38:4, October 1988; Yalom, I., Lieberman, M., “Bereavement and Heightened Existential Awareness,” Psychiatry, 1992.Author’s Note In this book, I have tried to be both storyteller and teacher. On the occasions when these two roles conflicted and I had to choose between inserting a juicy pedagogical comment and maintaining the dramatic pace of the story, I almost always put the story first and attempted to fulfill my teaching mission through indirect discourse.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Presently, supper-time being come, the painters left work and went down into the courtyard, where they found Filippo and Niccolosa and tarried there awhile, to oblige Calandrino. The latter fell to ogling Niccolosa and making the oddest grimaces in the world, such and so many that a blind man would have remarked them. She on her side did everything that she thought apt to inflame him, and Filippo, in accordance with the instructions he had of Bruno, made believe to talk with Buffalmacco and the others and to have no heed of this, whilst taking the utmost diversion in Calandrino's fashions. However, after a while, to the latter's exceeding chagrin, they took their leave and as they returned to Florence, Bruno said to Calandrino, 'I can tell thee thou makest her melt like ice in the sun. Cock's body, wert thou to fetch thy rebeck and warble thereto some of those amorous ditties of thine, thou wouldst cause her cast herself out of window to come to thee.' Quoth Calandrino, 'Deemest thou, gossip? Deemest thou I should do well to fetch it?' 'Ay, do I,' answered Bruno; and Calandrino went on, 'Thou wouldst not credit me this morning, whenas I told it thee; but, for certain, gossip, methinketh I know better than any man alive to do what I will. Who, other than I, had known to make such a lady so quickly in love with me? Not your trumpeting young braggarts,[432] I warrant you, who are up and down all day long and could not make shift, in a thousand years, to get together three handsful of cherry stones. I would fain have thee see me with the rebeck; 'twould be fine sport for thee. I will have thee to understand once for all that I am no dotard, as thou deemest me, and this she hath right well perceived, she; but I will make her feel it othergates fashion, so once I get my claw into her back; by the very body of Christ, I will lead her such a dance that she will run after me, as the madwoman after her child.' 'Ay,' rejoined Bruno, 'I warrant me thou wilt rummage her; methinketh I see thee, with those teeth of thine that were made for virginal jacks,[433] bite that little vermeil mouth of hers and those her cheeks, that show like two roses, and after eat her all up.' [Footnote 432: _Giovani di tromba marina._ The sense seems as above; the commentators say that _giovani di tromba marina_ is a name given to those youths who go trumpeting about everywhere the favours accorded them by women; but the _tromba marina_ is a _stringed_ (not a wind) _instrument_, a sort of primitive violoncello with one string.] [Footnote 433: "Your teeth did dance like virginal jacks."--_Ben Jonson._]

• From The Prophetic Imagination (1978)

  W. Harrelson (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1962), 177–95; “Exodus and Covenant in Second Isaiah and Prophetic Tradition,” in Magnalia Dei: The Mighty Acts of God. Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Memory of G. Ernest Wright , ed. F. M. Cross et al. (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1976), 339–60. 6 . Prophetic ministry must see more clearly than we have in recent time the integral connection between speech and hope! It is only speech that makes hope possible, and when the royal consciousness of technology stops serious speech, it precludes hope. This was seen clearly by Paul in his claim in Rom 10:14-21. 7 . On the subversive power of hope as a way of dismantling, see John M. Swomley Jr., Liberation Ethics (New York: Macmillan, 1972). 8 . The richness of the language of Second Isaiah suggests that the poet not only lived in but knew and utilized the literature of his own time; compare especially Klaus Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, trans. M. Kohl, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001). The links between Job and Second Isaiah on creation theology have been noted by Robert Pfeiffer, “Dual Origin of Hebrew Monotheism,” JBL 46 (1927): 193–206. The possibility that Second Isaiah is a response to the chagrin of Lamentations is worth pursuing. See below, that the poetry of Second Isaiah begins with “Comfort, comfort” (Isa 40:1) is probably a response to the “none to comfort” of Lamentations (1:2, 17). 9 . The reference is only a partially facetious one to June Bingham’s biography of Reinhold Niebuhr, Courage to Change: An Introduction to the Life and Thought of Reinhold Niebuhr (New York: Scribner, 1961). That same phrase is not only applicable to the Lord of Israel but is an important prophetic assertion against the immutability of God fostered by the royal consciousness that yearns for eternal stability. 10 . Raitt, A Theology of Exile, 188–89. 11 . Such waiting is of course not passivity. See the recent hints by Dorothee Soelle, Revolutionary Patience, trans. Rita Kimber and Robert Kimber (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1977), and the older statement by Christoph

• From The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma (2014)

  What was striking about these articles was the certainty with which they stated that there was no evidence that people remember trauma any differently than they do ordinary events. I vividly recall a phone call from a well-known newsweekly in London, telling me that they planned to publish an article about traumatic memory in their next issue and asking me whether I had any comments on the subject. I was quite enthusiastic about their question and told them that memory loss for traumatic events had first been studied in England well over a century earlier. I mentioned John Eric Erichsen and Frederic Myers’s work on railway accidents in the 1860s and 1870s and Charles Samuel Myers’s and W. H. R. Rivers’s extensive studies of memory problems in combat soldiers of World War I. I also suggested they look at an article published in The Lancet in 1944, which described the aftermath of the rescue of the entire British army from the beaches of Dunkirk in 1940. More than 10 percent of the soldiers who were studied had suffered from major memory loss after the evacuation.[17] The following week, the magazine told its readers that there was no evidence whatsoever that people sometimes lose some or all memory for traumatic events. The issue of delayed recall of trauma was not particularly controversial when Myers and Kardiner first described this phenomenon in their books on combat neuroses in World War I; when major memory loss was observed after the evacuation from Dunkirk; or when I wrote about Vietnam veterans and the survivor of the Cocoanut Grove nightclub fire. However, during the 1980s and early 1990s, as similar memory problems began to be documented in women and children in the context of domestic abuse, the efforts of abuse victims to seek justice against their alleged perpetrators moved the issue from science into politics and law. This, in turn, became the context for the pedophile scandals in the Catholic Church, in which memory experts were pitted against one another in courtrooms across the United States and later in Europe and Australia. Experts testifying on behalf of the Church claimed that memories of childhood sexual abuse were unreliable at best and that the claims being made by alleged victims more likely resulted from false memories implanted in their minds by therapists who were oversympathetic, credulous, or driven by their own agendas. During this period I examined more than fifty adults who, like Julian, remembered having been abused by priests. Their claims were denied in about half the cases.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But, things going thus and somewhat farther than was expedient, the young lady on the one hand and Gerbino on the other burning with desire, it befell that the King of Tunis gave her in marriage to the King of Granada, whereat she was beyond measure chagrined, bethinking herself that not only should she be separated from her lover by long distance, but was like to be altogether parted from him; and had she seen a means thereto, she would gladly, so this might not betide, have fled from her father and betaken herself to Gerbino. Gerbino, in like manner, hearing of this marriage, was beyond measure sorrowful therefor and often bethought himself to take her by force, if it should chance that she went to her husband by sea. The King of Tunis, getting some inkling of Gerbino's love and purpose and fearing his valour and prowess, sent to King Guglielmo, whenas the time came for despatching her to Granada, advising him of that which he was minded to do and that, having assurance from him that he should not be hindered therein by Gerbino or others, he purposed to do it. The King of Sicily, who was an old man and had heard nothing of Gerbino's passion and consequently suspected not that it was for this that such an assurance was demanded, freely granted it and in token thereof, sent the King of Tunis a glove of his. The latter, having gotten the desired assurance, caused equip a very great and goodly ship in the port of Carthage and furnish it with what was needful for those who were to sail therein and having fitted and adorned it for the sending of his daughter into Granada, awaited nought but weather. The young lady, who saw and knew all this, despatched one of her servants secretly to Palermo, bidding him salute the gallant Gerbino on her part and tell him that she was to sail in a few days for Granada, wherefore it would now appear if he were as valiant a man as was said and if he loved her as much as he had sundry times declared to her. Her messenger did his errand excellent well and returned to Tunis, whilst Gerbino, hearing this and knowing that his grandfather had given the King of Tunis assurance, knew not what to do. However, urged by love and that he might not appear a craven, he betook himself to Messina, where he hastily armed two light galleys and manning them with men of approved valour, set sail with them for the coast of Sardinia, looking for the lady's ship to pass there. Nor was he far out in his reckoning, for he had been there but a few days when the ship hove in sight with a light wind not far from the place where he lay expecting it.

• From Chéri and The Last of Chéri (1920)

  ‘And what’s more, he was very well received when he did return home. His little wife — ah, there’s a little wife for you, Lea! — and I’ve seen a fair number of little wives in my time, you know, and I don’t mind telling you I’ve never seen one to hold a candle to Edmee! ’ ‘Her mother is so remarkable/ L£a said. ‘Think, just think, my beauty — Cheri left her on my hands for very nearly three months! and between you and me she was very lucky to have me there/ * That’s exactly what I was thinking/ Lea said. ‘And then, my dear, never a word of complaint, never a scene, never a tactless word! Nothing, nothing! She was patience itself, and sweetness ... and the face of a saint, a saint! ’ ‘It’s terrifying,’ L<6a said. ‘And then, what d’you suppose happened when our young rascal walked in one morning, all smiles, as though he’d just come in from a stroll in the Bois? D’you suppose she allowed herself a single comment? Not one. Far from it. Nothing. As for him, though at heart he must have felt just a little ashamed ...’ ‘Oh, why?’ Lea asked. ‘Well, really! After all... He was welcomed with open arms, and the whole thing was put right in their bedroom - in two ticks - just like that — no time lost I Oh, I can assure you, for the next hour or so there wasn’t a happier woman in the world than me/ ‘Except, perhaps, Edm£e/ Lea suggested. But Madame Peloux was all exaltation, and executed a superb soaring movement with her little arms: ‘I don’t know what you can be thinking of. Personally, I was only thinking of the happy hearth and home.’ She changed her tune, screwed up her eyes, and pouted; ‘Besides, I can t see that little girl frantic with passion, or sobbing with ecstasy. Twenty, and skinny at that. ... Pah! at that age they stammer and stutter. And then, between ourselves, I think her mother’s cold.’ Aren t you being carried away by your sense of family? ’ Lea said. Charlotte Peloux expanded her eyes to show their very depths, but absolutely nothing was to be read there. Certainly not, certainly not! Heredity, heredity! I’m a firm believer in it. Look at my son, who is fantasy incarnate ... What? You don t know that he’s fantasy incarnate?’ t ^ must kave escaped my memory,’ Lea apologized. Well, I have high hopes for my son’s future. He’ll love his home as I love mine, he’ll look after his fortune, he’ll love his children, as I loved him. For goodness’ sake, don’t paint such a depressing picture,’ L£a begged. What’s it like, the young people’s home? ’

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  Stephen flushed: ‘No doubt she'll stick on by balance!’ The words rankled, oh, very deeply they rankled. Violet was learning to ride side-saddle, that small, flabby lump who squealed if you pinched her; that terrified creature of muslins and ribbons and hair that curled over the nurse’s finger! Why, Violet could never come to tea without crying, could never play a game with- out getting herself hurt! She had fat, wobbly legs too, just like a rag doll—and you, Stephen, had been compared to Violet! Ridiculous of course, and yet all of a sudden you felt less im- pressive in your fine riding breeches. You felt — well, not foolish exactly, but self-conscious — not quite at your ease, a little bit wrong. It was almost as though you were playing at young Nelson again, were only pretending. But you said: ‘ I’ve got muscles, haven’t I, Father? Williams says I’ve got riding muscles already!’ Then you dug your heels sharply into the pony, so that he whisked round, bucking and rearing. As for you, you stuck to his back like a limpet. Wasn’t that enough to convince them? ‘Steady on, Stephen!’ came Sir Philip’s voice, warning. Then the Master’s: ‘ She’s got a fine seat, I’ll admit it — Violet’s 40 THE WELL OF LONELINESS a little bit scared on a horse, but I think she'll get confidence later; I hope so.’ And now hounds were moving away towards cover, tails waving — they looked like an army with banners. ‘ Hi, Starbright — Fancy! Get in, little bitch! Hi, Frolic, get on with it, Frolic! ’ The long lashes shot out with amazing precision, stinging a flank or stroking a shoulder, while the four-legged Amazons closed up their ranks for the serious business ahead. ‘ Hi, Star- bright!’ Whips cracked and horses grew restless; Stephen’s mount required undivided attention. She had no time to think of her muscles or her grievance, but only of the creature between her small knees. ‘ All right, Stephen? ° Yes, Rather? ‘Well, go steady at your fences; it may be a little bit slippery this morning.’ But Sir Philip’s voice did not sound at all anxious; indeed there was a note of deep pride in his voice. ‘ He knows that I’m not just a rag doll, like Violet; he knows that I’m different to her! ’ thought Stephen. 3 THE STRANGE, implacable heart-broken music of hounds giving tongue as they break from cover; the cry of the huntsman as he stands in his stirrups; the thud of hooves pounding ruthlessly forward over long, green, undulating meadows. The meadows flying back as though seen from a train, the meadows streaming away behind you; the acrid smell of horse sweat caught in pass- ing; the smell of damp leather, of earth and bruised herkage — all sudden, all passing — then the smell of wide spaces, the air smell, cool yet as potent as wine.

• From Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  The modern intellect, which reckons with thousands of years in the evolution of the savage, with hundreds of thousands in the formation of geological deposits, and with eternities in astronomical evolution, ought to be ready to have patience if the full results of the Christian spirit have not yet come to fruitage. If such a review of past failures leaves a feeling of condemnatory surprise, it is largely due to the false expectations raised in the past by religious rhetoric. Christian orators have scurried through history for edifying anecdotes. They have pictured the first three centuries as a golden age of Christian love and purity. They have assumed that the enthronement of Christianity as the state religion of the Empire and the apparent conquest of paganism meant the actual disappearance of pagan habits of mind and customs. As if anything set up by thousands of years of history could vanish into thin air! They have represented the progress of Christianity as a triumphal procession of the gospel, leaving regenerated nations and ages behind it. Then if we awake from that fictitious enthusiasm and face the sober facts of human imperfection, it is a sore and angry surprise. To say that Christianity in the past has largely followed alien influences and has missed its greatest mission, is not to condemn the men of the past. They followed the light they had and threw their lives into the pursuit of that light with an ardor that puts us to shame. If we have any zeal for the truth in us now, it is altogether likely that we would have shouted for the Homousios or the Homoiusios had we walked the streets of Alexandria in the fourth century. If I had known St. Francis, I hope I should have had grace enough to become a Franciscan friar and to serve the Lady Poverty. If destiny had put me on the chair of St. Peter, I hope I should have made a good fight against the encroachments of the secular power on the sacred heritage of Christ and the vicar of Christ. But being a twentieth-century Christian, I hope I shall do nothing of the kind. If the men of the past flinched in following their ideals, they must answer to God for it. Also if they consciously taught what was unchristian, or quenched the better light in others. The passing of these causes in modern life The sadness of the failure hitherto is turned into brightest hopefulness if we note that all the causes which have hitherto neutralized the social efficiency of Christianity have strangely disappeared or weakened in modern life. Christianity has shed them as an insect sheds its old casing in passing through its metamorphosis, and with the disappearance of each of these causes, Christianity has become fitter to take up its regenerative work. Let us run over the causes of failure set forth in this chapter and note how they have weakened or vanished.

• From Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  The community is particeps criminis with the individual in almost every sin that is committed. The girl who drifts into shame because no happy marriage is open to her; the boy who runs into youthful criminality because he has no outlet for his energies except the street; the great financial operator who organizes deceptive moments in the stock market and fleeces the mass who are crazy for unearned gain—they can justly turn against us all and say,—“You have led us into temptation.” It is not only unjust but unwise to make a prominent individual the scapegoat for the sin of all. If people are led to think that an evil is the personal product of one man or a small group of men their attention will be diverted from the deeper causes which produced these men and would have produced others of the same kind if these had never existed. Any preacher dealing with social questions is certain to be charged with partiality. The wider our social cleavage, the more difficult will it be to satisfy both sides. Nor is it his business to try trimming and straddling. He must seek to hew as straight as the moral law. Let others voice special interests; the minister of Jesus Christ must voice the mind of Jesus Christ. His strength will lie in the high impartiality of moral insight and love to all. But if he really follows the mind of Christ, he will be likely to take the side of the poor in most issues. The poor are likely to be the wronged. Almost any man will concede that in past history the poor have been oppressed, and that in foreign countries they are now being oppressed. Wherever the situation is far enough away to allow us to be impartial, we see correctly. But that constitutes a presumption that the same situation exists in our own country. The saying of Mirabeau is as true as any other historical maxim, “When the people have complained, the people have always been right” The strong have ample means of defending all their just interests and usually enough power left to guard their unjust interests too. Those who have been deprived of intelligence, education, and property need such championship as the ministers of Jesus Christ can give them, and any desire to pardon and excuse should be exercised on their behalf. As things are, a minister will have to make a conscious effort if he is to be fair to the poor. The daily press, public opinion, custom, literature, orthodox economic science, and nearly all the forces which shape thought, are on the side of things as they are. Unless a minister consciously puts himself into contact with the working classes by attending their meetings and reading their literature, he will assume that he is judging fairly, whereas he has never heard more than one side. If he attends the dinners of the Chamber of Commerce, he must take socialist street meetings as an antidote.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Next morning, Folco and Ughetto, having heard that Ninetta had been sacked overnight and believing it, were released and returned home to comfort their mistresses for the death of their sister. However, for all Maddalena could do to hide her, Folco soon became aware of Ninetta's presence in the palace, whereat he marvelled exceedingly and suddenly waxing suspicious,--for that he had heard of the duke's passion for Maddalena,--asked the latter how her sister came to be there. Maddalena began a long story, which she had devised to account to him therefor, but was little believed of her lover, who was shrewd and constrained her to confess the truth, which, after long parley, she told him. Folco, overcome with chagrin and inflamed with rage, pulled out a sword and slew her, whilst she in vain besought mercy; then, fearing the wrath and justice of the duke, he left her dead in the chamber and repairing whereas Ninetta was, said to her, with a feigned air of cheerfulness, 'Quick, let us begone whither it hath been appointed of thy sister that I shall carry thee, so thou mayst not fall again into the hands of the duke.' Ninetta, believing this and eager, in her fearfulness, to begone, set out with Folco, it being now night, without seeking to take leave of her sister; whereupon he and she, with such monies (which were but few) as he could lay hands on, betook themselves to the sea-shore and embarked on board a vessel; nor was it ever known whither they went. On the morrow, Maddalena being found murdered, there were some who, of the envy and hatred they bore to Ughetto, forthright gave notice thereof to the duke, whereupon the latter, who loved Maddalena exceedingly, ran furiously to the house and seizing Ughetto and his lady, who as yet knew nothing of the matter,--to wit, of the departure of Folco and Ninetta,--constrained them to confess themselves guilty, together with Folco, of his mistress's death. They, apprehending with reason death in consequence of this confession, with great pains corrupted those who had them in keeping, giving them a certain sum of money, which they kept hidden in their house against urgent occasions, and embarking with their guards, without having leisure to take any of their goods, fled by night to Rhodes, where they lived no great while after in poverty and distress. To such a pass, then, did Restagnone's mad love and Ninetta's rage bring themselves and others." THE FOURTH STORY [Day the Fourth] GERBINO, AGAINST THE PLIGHTED FAITH OF HIS GRANDFATHER, KING GUGLIELMO OF SICILY, ATTACKETH A SHIP OF THE KING OF TUNIS, TO CARRY OFF A DAUGHTER OF HIS, WHO BEING PUT TO DEATH OF THOSE ON BOARD, HE SLAYETH THESE LATTER AND IS AFTER HIMSELF BEHEADED

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  I stared at this earnest young Black man for a moment. Suddenly my hair became very political. Waves of horror washed over me. How many forms of religious persecution are we now going to visit upon each other as Black people in the name of our public safety? And suppose I was a Rastafarian? What then? Why did that automatically mean I could not vacation in Virgin Gorda? Did it make my tourist dollars unusable? What if he had asked me if I were a Jew? A Quaker? A Protestant? A Catholic? What have we learned from the bloody pages of history and are we really doomed to repeat these mistakes? There was an ache in my heart. I wanted to say, “What does it matter if I am a Rasta or not?” But I saw our bags sitting out in the sun, and the pilot walking slowly back to his plane. Deep in my heart I thought—it is always the same question: where do we begin to take a stand? But I turned away. “No, I’m not a Rastafarian,” I said. And true, I am not. But deep inside of me I felt I was being asked to deny some piece of myself, and I felt a solidarity with my Rastafarian brothers and sisters that I had never been conscious of before. “Is your hair still political?” Tell me, when it starts to burn.* My immigration card was stamped admit, our bags were put back on the plane, and we continued our journey, twenty minutes overdue. As the plane taxied to the end of the runway, I looked back at the Beef Island Airport. On this tiny island, I had found another example of Black people being used to testify against other Black people, using our enemies’ weapons against each other, judging each other on the color of our skin, the cut of our clothes, the styling of our hair. How long will Black women allow ourselves to be used as instruments of oppression against each other? On a Black Caribbean island, one Black woman had looked into another Black woman’s face and found her unacceptable. Not because of what she did, not because of who she was, not even because of what she believed. But because of how she LOOKED. What does it mean, Black people practicing this kind of self-hatred with one another? The sun was still shining, but somehow the day seemed less bright. St. Croix, Virgin Islands January 10, 1990 * From “A Question of ESSENCE,” in Lorde, Our Dead Behind Us (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1986).Difference and Survival An Address at Hunter College

• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  I declared I was ill and was going to England at once; I must make a new start and accumulate some more money and a few mornings later I bade Bancroft “Good-bye” and crossed the Channel and went on to my sister and father in Tenby, arriving there in a severe shivering fit with a bad headache and every symptom of ague. I was indeed ill and played out: I had taken double doses of life and literature, had swallowed all the chief French writers from Rabelais and Montaigne to Flaubert, Zola and Balzac, passing by Pascal and Vauvenargues, Renan and Hugo, a glutton’s feast for six months. Then, too, I had nosed out this artist’s studio and that; had spent hours watching Rodin at work and more hours comparing this painter’s model with that: these breasts and hips with those. My love of plastic beauty nearly brought me to grief at least once and perhaps I had better record the incident, though it rather hurt my vanity at the time. One day I called at Manet’s old studio which was rented now by an American painter named Alexander. He had real power as a craftsman but only a moderate brain and was always trying by beauty or something remarkable in his model to make up for his own want of originality. On this visit I noticed an extraordinary sketch of a young girl standing where childhood and womanhood meet: she had cut her hair short and her chestnut-dark eyes lent her a startling distinction. “You like it?” asked Alexander. “She has the most perfect figure I have ever seen!” “I like it”, I replied; “I wonder whether the magic is in the model or in your brush?” “You’ll soon see”, he retorted, a little piqued, “she’s due here already” and almost as he spoke she came in with quick, alert step. She was below medium height; but evidently already a woman. Without a word she went behind the screens to undress, when Alexander said: “Well?” I had to think a moment or two before answering. “God and you have conspired together!” I exclaimed, and indeed his brush had surpassed itself. He had caught and rendered a childish innocence in expression that I had not remarked and he had blocked in the features with superb brio: “It is your best work to date”, I went on, “and almost anyone would have signed it.”

• From Blue Nights (2011)

  Why then did I feel so sharp a sense of betrayal when I exchanged my California driver’s license for one issued by New York? Wasn’t that actually a straightforward enough transaction? Your birthday comes around, your license needs renewing, what difference does it make where you renew it? What difference does it make that you have had this single number on your license since it was assigned to you at age fifteen-and-a-half by the state of California? Wasn’t there always an error on that driver’s license anyway? An error you knew about? Didn’t that license say you were five-foot-two? When you knew perfectly well you were at best—(max height, top height ever, height before you lost a half inch to age)—when you knew perfectly well you were at best five-foot-one-and-three-quarters? Why did I make so much of the driver’s license? What was that about? Did giving up the California license say that I would never again be fifteen-and-a-half? Would I want to be? Or was the business with the license just one more case of “the apparent inadequacy of the precipitating event”? I put “the apparent inadequacy of the precipitating event” in quotes because it is not my phrase. Karl Menninger used it, in Man Against Himself, by way of describing the tendency to overreact to what might seem ordinary, even predictable, circumstances: a propensity, Dr. Menninger tells us, common among suicides. He cites the young woman who becomes depressed and kills herself after cutting her hair. He mentions the man who kills himself because he has been advised to stop playing golf, the child who commits suicide because his canary died, the woman who kills herself after missing two trains. Notice: not one train, two trains. Think that over. Consider what special circumstances are required before this woman throws it all in. “In these instances,” Dr. Menninger tells us, “the hair, the golf, and the canary had an exaggerated value, so that when they were lost or when there was even a threat that they might be lost, the recoil of severed emotional bonds was fatal.” Yes, clearly, no argument. “The hair, the golf, and the canary” had each been assigned an exaggerated value (as presumably had the second of those two missed trains), but why? Dr. Menninger himself asks this question, although only rhetorically: “But why should such extravagantly exaggerated over-estimations and incorrect evaluations exist?” Did he imagine that he had answered the question simply by raising it? Did he think that all he had to do was formulate the question and then retreat into a cloud of theoretical psychoanalytic references? Could I seriously have construed changing my driver’s license from California to New York as an experience involving “severed emotional bonds”? Did I seriously see it as loss? Did I truly see it as separation? And before we leave this subject of “severed emotional bonds”:

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  128 JamesBaldwin *Ahr shesighed. 'Chagrin d^ amour r *He's having agoodtime/ Isaid. 'He loves it' I looked at her. 'Aren'tyou?' 'Stonewalls/shesaid,'are impenetrable.* Thewaiter arrived. 'Doesn't it/ I dared, 'de- pendontheweapon?' 'Whatare youbuying me to drink?' sheasked. *What do youwant?' Wewereboth grinning. Thewaiter stoodabove us,manifesting a kind ofsurly joiede vivre. 1 beUeveI'U have'—shebattedthe eyelashes of her tightblueeyes — 'unricard. Withahell of a lot ofice,' *DetLxricards/ Isaidtothewaiter *avec beaucoupde la glace.' *Ouiy monsieur* I was sure hedespised us both.Ithoughtof Giovanniandofhow many timesin an evening thephrase, Ouz, monsieur fellfrom hislips.With this fleeting thought there came another, equallyfleeting: a new senseofGiovanni, his private life and pain,and allthatmovedlikea floodin him when we lay togetherat night. To continue/ I said. To continue?' Shemadeher eyesverywide and blank.'Where werewe?' Shewas trying to be coquettish andshe was tryingtobe hard- headed.I feltthatIwas doing somethingvery cruel. ButIcouldnot stop. 'We were talking about stonewalls and how they could be entered/ 1 neverknew,' she simpered, 'that youhad any interestin stone walls.' GIOVANNrS ROOM 129 There's a lot aboutmeyoudon*tknow/The waiter returnedwith ourdrinks. 'Don'tyou think discoveries arefun?' She stared discontentedly atherdrink. Trankly,' she said, turningtoward meagain, with those eyes, *no/ *0h,you're much too youngforthat,' I said. 'Everythingshouldbea discovery/ She was silent for a moment.She sipped her drink. I'vemade/ shesaid, finally, 'allthe dis- coveriesthatI canstand.'ButIwatched the way herthighs movedagainst the clothofher jeans. 'Butyoucan'tjustgo on being a brick stone wall forever.' 1don't see whynot,'shesaid. TJordo Isee hownot.' 'Baby/ Isaid, Tmmaking you aproposition/ She picked up her glassagain andsipped it, staring straight outward attheboulevard. 'And what's the proposition?' 'Invite me for adrink. Chez toV 'I don't beUeve,' she said, turning tome, 'that I'vegot anything in the house.' 'We can pick up something on the way/ I said. She stared at me for along time. I forced myself not to drop my eyes. 'I'm sure that I shouldn't,' she said at last. 'Why not?' She made a small, helpless movement in the wicker chair. 'I don't know. I don't know what you want.'

• From Speak, Memory (1966)

  Meanwhile, with a permanent staff of about fifty servants and no questions asked, our city household and country place were the scenes of a fantastic merry-go-round of theft. In this, according to nosy old aunts, whom nobody heeded but who proved to be right after all, the chief cook Nikolay Andreevich and the head gardener Egor, both staid-looking, bespectacled men with the hoary temples of trusty retainers, were the two masterminds. When confronted with stupendous and incomprehensible bills, or a sudden extinction of garden strawberries and hothouse peaches, my father, a jurist and a statesman, felt professionally vexed at not being able to cope with the economics of his own home; but every time a complicated case of larceny came to light, some legal doubt or scruple prevented him from doing anything about it. When common sense required the firing of a rascally servant, the man’s little son would as likely as not fall desperately ill, and the resolution to get the best doctors in town for him would cancel all other considerations. So, with one thing and another, my father preferred to leave the whole housekeeping situation in a state of precarious equilibrium (not devoid of a certain quiet humor), with my mother deriving considerable comfort from the hope that her old nurse’s illusory world would not be shattered.

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  A wide mourning ribbon sat on the sleeve of his elegant tunic. "You got the latest, Bethsy?" he asked. 'Yes, Tony, you will be particularly interested. In short, our property in front of the castle gate has now been sold ... to whom? Not to one man, but to two, because it will be divided, the house will becanceled, put a fence across it, and then Merchant Benthien builds a kennel on the right and Merchant Sorenson on the left… well, God bless.” "Outrageous," said Frau Grünlich, folding her hands in her lap and looking up at the ceiling... "Grandfather's property! Good, so the property is botched. The appeal was precisely in the spaciousness ... which was actually superfluous ... but that was the distinction. The large garden ... down to the Trave ... and the house in the back with the driveway, the Kastanienallee ... So now it is divided. Benthien will be standing in front of one door, smoking his pipe, and Sorenson in front of the other. Yes, I also say 'God bless', Uncle Justus. There is probably nobody noble enough to inhabit the whole thing. It's a good thing Grandpapa doesn't get to see it anymore..." The mood of mourning was still too heavy and serious in the air for Tony to express their indignation in louder and stronger words. It was on the day of the reading of the will, two weeks after the consul's death, at half past five in the afternoon. The Consul Buddenbrook had asked her brother to come to Mengstrasse so that he could take part in a discussion with Thomas and Herr Marcus, the general manager, about the dispositions of the deceased and the financial situation, and Tony had announced his decision to also take part in the discussions. She had said that she owed this interest to the company as well as to the family, and she took care to give this meeting the character of a meeting, a family council. She had closed the window curtains and despite the two paraffin lamps, all the candles on the large gilded candelabras were lit to excess. She had also spread out on the board a lot of writing paper and sharpened pencils, which no one knew what they were actually supposed to be used for. The black dress gave her figure a girlish slenderness, and although she felt perhaps the most painful of all the death of the Consul, with whom she had been so dearly close of late, although to-day she had twice burst into bitter tears at the thought of him , the prospect of this small family council, this small serious conversation, in which she intended to take part with dignity, was able to flush her pretty cheeks, brighten her eyes, give joy and importance to her movements ... On the other hand, the Consul, exhausted with terror, Pain, from a thousand mourning formalities and the funeral ceremonies, looked suffering.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Mr. Spencer there tries, not only to show how new actions may arise in nervous systems and form new reflex arcs therein, but even how nervous tissue may actually be born by the passage of new waves of isometric transformation through an originally indifferent mass. I cannot help thinking that Mr. Spencer's data, under a great show of precision, conceal vagueness and improbability, and even self-contradiction. [141] 'Mental Physiology' (1874,) pp. 339-345. [142] [See, later, Masius in Van Benedens' and Van Bambeke's 'Archives de Biologie,' vol. I (Liége, 1880).—W.J.] [143] G. H. Schneider: 'Der menschliche Wille' (1882), pp. 417-419 (freely translated). For the drain-simile, see also Spencer's 'Psychology,' part V, chap. VIII. [144] Physiology of Mind, p. 155. [145] Carpenter's 'Mental Physiology' (1874), pp. 217, 218. [146] Von Hartmann devotes a chapter of his 'Philosophy of the Unconscious' (English translation, vol. I. p. 72) to proving that they must be both ideas and unconscious. [147] 'Mental Physiology,' p. 20. [148] 'Der menschliche Willie,' pp. 447, 448. [149] 'Der menschliche Wille,' p. 439. The last sentence is rather freely translated—the sense is unaltered. [150] Huxley's 'Elementary Lessons in Physiology,' lesson XII. [151] See the admirable passage about success at the outset, in his Handbuch der Moral (1878), pp. 38-43. [152] J. Bahnsen: 'Beiträge zu Charakterologie' (1867), vol. I. p. 209. [153] See for remarks on this subject a readable article by Miss V. Scudder on 'Musical Devotees and Morals,' in the Andover Review for January 1887. [154] The Theory of Practice, vol., p. [155] The present writer recalls how in 1869, when still a medical student, he began to write an essay showing how almost every one who speculated about brain-processes illicitly interpolated into his account of them links derived from the entirely heterogeneous universe of Feeling. Spencer, Hodgson (in his Time and Space), Maudsley, Lockhart Clarke, Bain, Dr. Carpenter, and other authors were cited as having been guilty of the confusion. The writing was soon stopped because he perceived that the view which he was upholding against these authors was a pure conception, with no proofs to be adduced of its reality. Later it seemed to him that whatever proofs existed really told in favor of their view. [156] Chas. Mercier: The Nervous System and the Mind (1888). p. 9. [157] Op. cit. p. 11. [158] See in particular the end of Chapter IX. [159] Psychol. § 62. [160] Ibid. § 272. [161] Fragments of Science, 5th ed., p. 420. [162] Belfast Address, 'Nature,' August 20, 1874, p. 318. I cannot help remarking that the disparity between motions and feelings on which these authors lay so much stress, is somewhat less absolute than at first sight it seems. There are categories common to the two worlds. Not only temporal succession (as Helmholtz admits, Physiol.