Pride

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 History of Christianity: From the Disciples to the Dawn of the Reformation (2012)

  184 Lecture 25: From Roman Empire to Holy Roman Empire • “Popes and Franks” may sound like ballpark food, but the phrase sums up precisely the two power sources that worked to create the catholic world of the Middle Ages. Political Context: 9 th to 15th Centuries • The second stage in the medieval political context begins with Charles the Great (Charlemagne, 742–814), the son of Pepin III, who is one of the most significant figures in the political and religious history of the West. • Charles was anointed as king of the Franks by Pope Stephen III in 754 and became sole heir of the kingdom in 771. He immediately engaged in a path of conquest and consolidation under his authority. o Between 771 and 799, he conquered Lombardy, the Saxons, Bavaria, the Avars, Pannonia, and Italy. o In 778, he crossed the Pyrenees to conquer Spain, which was in the hands of the Muslims, and was defeated at the Battle of Roncevalles. Thirteen years later, in 801, he conquered Barcelona and made it the center of the Spanish March (a buffer zone separating the Muslim and Frankish kingdoms). • In view of these triumphs, Pope Leo III, on Christmas Day, 800, in the city of Rome, crowned Charlemagne as emperor. It was an extraordinary act, and its implication (that the Franks were the approved continuation of the Roman heritage) was not appreciated by the Byzantines. Eventually, the emperor of the West would claim the formal title of Holy Roman Emperor. Charlemagne’s military triumphs established his authority firmly over the West; he was crowned emperor in the year 800 by Pope Leo III in Rome. © Hemera/Thinkstock.

• From The History of Christianity: From the Disciples to the Dawn of the Reformation (2012)

  The Crusades Lecture 31 It can be argued that the 11th through 13th centuries represent the high water mark of the European civilization called Christendom, shaped by specifically Christian values and institutions. As much as in the monasteries with their schools and the cathedrals with their chapters, and as much as in the universities that we will talk about in the next lecture, the vibrancy and vision of this Christian society is expressed by the series of military expeditions against the Muslim occupiers of the Holy Land. The Crusades—part popular movement, part political calculation, part religious fervor—began in 1095 and extended, both literally and symbolically, for centuries. Backdrop to the Crusades • Like the building projects described in the previous lecture, the expeditions known as the Crusades expressed a new sense of power and self-confidence in “Christendom”—that is, European Christianity. In the 8th century, Europe as a whole had barely escaped o coming under Muslim rule during the great expansion of Islam that had swallowed all of the East (except Byzantium), North Africa, and Spain. Charles Martel had stopped the advance of Muslim armies at o the Battle of Tours in 732. His victory was the foundation, as we have seen, of the Frankish kingdom, the prominence of the papacy, and the feudal system that structured medieval society. • In the 11th century, the time seemed right for payback—to reverse the conquests of Islam and take back at least the places that Christians regarded as especially holy and worthy of pilgrimage. • As for an armed expedition, Christianity had long since grown comfortable with the notion of “holy war”; recall that Charlemagne, 223

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  Mr. Patterson’s thick fingers strummed against his desk. Pretty picked up the pattern and bobbed his head every time he heard the thud. He wasn’t going to answer automatically. He felt the transition of power. He had something Mr. Patterson wanted. The knowledge of Mr. Patterson’s self. Mr. Patterson thought everyone loved him. He thought no one ever said anything bad about him. Sure he ran this ship like a slave one, but he gave out great Christmas gifts. He gave rewards like Scooby snacks when people met quotas. He pampered on his own time. Pretty held on to the information like an informant did to get a better deal. What was it worth to Mr. Patterson? He watched Mr. Patterson glance at him through his bluest eye. Mr. Patterson’s voice was huge. “Well?” “Tell me your proposition first.” Pretty wasn’t going to let Mr. Patterson string this proposition out for hours. He wanted to know what was going on. He needed to know the particulars. “Enough of the bullshit, Jarvis. This proposition benefits you more than it would me.” He spoke slowly, and with conviction. “What do they call me?” Pretty laughed. “Mr. Fatterson!” He fell back into his seat and awaited his response. He figured Mr. Patterson would want to know who it was. He thought Mr. Patterson would be angry and disturbed that someone would actually call him such names. Instead, Mr. Patterson chuckled loudly. “They’ve always called me that. They couldn’t think of anything new? I’ve heard that all of my life.” He patted his stomach. “Well, since I’ve grown this. A stomach doesn’t make a man, Jarvis.” Pretty laughed with him. This was the first thing they’d ever shared. And it happened to come at Mr. Patterson’s expense. “Come back to my office at exactly one-thirty if you want to hear the proposition,” he said plainly. He offered Pretty the door. He knew that he’d put enough in Pretty’s head to stimulate it. He never said what it was, and he knew that would get Pretty interested. He couldn’t run a ship so tight without being smart. • • • At one-thirty Pretty knocked twice. “Come in, Jarvis.” Pretty walked in and found Mr. Patterson standing by a makeshift bar, with a drink in hand. The shabby silver cart housed two big bottles of liquor, a long slender bottle of red wine, and three glasses: one shot glass, a wineglass, and a wide glass people used when they swirled around expensive scotch. Mr. Patterson held his glass in the air. “Scotch, Jarvis?” Pretty stopped in his tracks. He looked up toward the ceiling and searched for hidden cameras. “No, thank you. I’m good.” Mr. Patterson noticed the apprehension and walked near. “Who runs this establishment, Jarvis?” He took great pleasure in saying the name “Jarvis.” He knew he wanted to be called Pretty, but it wouldn’t be by him. Every chance he got, he would let Pretty’s government name put him in his place.

• From The History of Christianity: From the Disciples to the Dawn of the Reformation (2012)

  58 Lecture 8: Forms of Witness—martyrdom and apologetic circa 165; his trial before the Roman prefect was recorded and is extant. When the prefect orders him a final time to offer sacrifice to the gods, Justin refuses, saying, “Through prayer we can be saved on account of our Lord Jesus Christ.” • Evidence also exists for the arrest, imprisonment, and execution of relatively unknown Christians. o A letter from the churches of Vienne and Lyons attests—shortly after the event—to the suffering and death of a considerable number of Christians in Gaul under Marcus Aurelius in 178. o Later in the 2 nd century, the Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs likewise provides evidence of North African martyrs. o The Martyrdom of Perpetua and Felicity is an account, close to the events, of the imprisonment and death of Christians in North Africa in 203. • The most passionate statement concerning the ideal of martyrdom is found in Origen of Alexandria’s Exhortation to Martyrdom in 235: The death of the martyr is the closest possible conformity to the witness of Christ. Origen speaks of the inducements to turn away from the pain of suffering and says, “if turning from all of these we give ourselves entirely to God ... with a view to sharing union with his only begotten son and those who have a share in him, then we can say that we have filled up the measure of bearing witness” (3.11). Apologetic Literature • A second response to persecution is the composition of apologetic literature. Such literature also had its roots in Judaism and in the New Testament. • Apologetic literature arose among Diaspora Jews, such as Philo and Josephus, who responded to anti-Semitic charges of misanthropy with histories and philosophical treatises that demonstrated that the Jewish Law and manner of life were actually philanthropic. 59 • Although supposedly directed to outsiders, such apologetic literature played an important role in shaping Jewish identity, by portraying the tradition in terms understandable to the wider world. • In the New Testament, the Acts of the Apostles has many of the elements of apologetic literature: “The way” is portrayed as benevolent and nonthreatening to the social order. Luke tries to show that the Christian movement is continuous with Israel and is philanthropic in character. • The Christian literature termed “apologetic” in the 2 nd and 3 rd

• From The History of Christianity: From the Disciples to the Dawn of the Reformation (2012)

  122 sretneC lahcrairtaP fo ecnegremE ehT :71 erutceL Each of these cities had its own claims to importance within o Christian history, and each was eager to emphasize that importance. The practice of competition among Greek and Roman cities was common, as attested by the orations of Dio Chrysostom to the cities of Asia Minor, which fought to be “number one” in their region. The Primacy of Rome • After the loss of the symbolic first city of Jerusalem—the place where the Christian movement started—the primacy of Rome (and the bishop of Rome) was broadly recognized in the early centuries, though this primacy did not at first bear the sense of administrative authority. Jerusalem itself was recognized as one of the patriarchates, but its position was strictly honorary, and it was not a player in subsequent rivalries. • An important dimension of Rome’s primacy was the position ascribed to Peter in the New Testament compositions and Peter’s connection to Rome. In the Gospels, Peter is the o The “confession of Peter” (“You chief spokesman among are the messiah”) is found in the disciples, the one who all the Gospels; in the Gospel recognized something of of matthew, Jesus responds by declaring that Peter is the rock on Jesus’s identity before the which he will build his church. others. The “confession of Peter” is found in all the Gospels in one form or another and is most elaborated by Matthew, which has Jesus respond with the declaration that he will build his church on the rock who is Peter. Although he betrayed Jesus before his death—also reported by all the Gospels—Peter is the primary witness of the Resurrection, both in the Gospel narratives and as listed by Paul. .kcotsknihT/otohpkcotSi ©

• From An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness (1995)

  I am fortunate that I have not died from my illness, fortunate in having received the best medical care available, and fortunate in having the friends, colleagues, and family that I do. Because of this, I have in turn tried, as best I could, to use my own experiences of the disease to inform my research, teaching, clinical practice, and advocacy work. Through writing and teaching I have hoped to persuade my colleagues of the paradoxical core of this quicksilver illness that can both kill and create; and, along with many others, have tried to change public attitudes about psychiatric illnesses in general and manic-depressive illness in particular. It has been difficult at times to weave together the scientific discipline of my intellectual field with the more compelling realities of my own emotional experiences. And yet it has been from this binding of raw emotion to the more distanced eye of clinical science that I feel I have obtained the freedom to live the kind of life I want, and the human experiences necessary to try and make a difference in public awareness and clinical practice. I have had many concerns about writing a book that so explicitly describes my own attacks of mania, depression, and psychosis, as well as my problems acknowledging the need for ongoing medication. Clinicians have been, for obvious reasons of licensing and hospital privileges, reluctant to make their psychiatric problems known to others. These concerns are often well warranted. I have no idea what the long-term effects of discussing such issues so openly will be on my personal and professional life, but, whatever the consequences, they are bound to be better than continuing to be silent. I am tired of hiding, tired of misspent and knotted energies, tired of the hypocrisy, and tired of acting as though I have something to hide. One is what one is, and the dishonesty of hiding behind a degree, or a title, or any manner and collection of words, is still exactly that: dishonest. Necessary, perhaps, but dishonest. I continue to have concerns about my decision to be public about my illness, but one of the advantages of having had manic-depressive illness for more than thirty years is that very little seems insurmountably difficult. Much like crossing the Bay Bridge when there is a storm over the Chesapeake, one may be terrified to go forward, but there is no question of going back. I find myself somewhat inevitably taking a certain solace in Robert Lowell’s essential question, Yet why not say what happened?

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  “You know Chocolate be having these bitches acting all out of character,” Hog added. Hog had gotten his nickname because his nose resembled a pig’s snout. He looked like a slightly more handsome version of the Notorious B.I.G., with a shaved head. “Y’all niggaz always got jokes,” I said, plopping down on the chair closest to Max. “Where the fuck is Reggie?” “He dipped out about twenty minutes ago. He went to see that stripper bitch he met last month,” Max informed me. “Sucker-for-love-ass nigga,” I laughed. “I know a lot of niggaz who done paid for pussy a time or two, but Reg is making that shit a regular occurrence. What is that, like the third time he’s seen her this week?” “Fourth,” Hog said. “Silly muthafucka took off work the other day to get a shot of that.” Max shook his head sadly. “That boy is gonna take himself to the poorhouse.” “Anybody ever seen this chick?” I asked. “Nah, we weren’t with him when he met her. He was fucking with Tay and them niggaz from the hill,” Hog said. “She must have some bomb-ass pussy, because she’s got this nigga acting like a schoolgirl.” “Let him tell it, she’s got fairy dust tucked in her twat,” Max joked. “This dude told me that she licked his ass cleaner than Martha Stewart’s kitchen.” “Shit, I wouldn’t mind getting a shot of that,” I admitted. Hog pushed me playfully. “Nigga, your hands are full enough. You got a girl and you’re still fucking everything on two legs. One day your dick is gonna fall off.” “You know these hoes can’t get enough of Chocolate,” I said, referring to myself in third person, as I was known to do. “They pay like they weigh, my dude.” “You pop that shit now, but what you gonna do when these females get together and try to burn your ass at the stake?” Hog said, in his gravelly voice. “I wish the fuck they would. My dick is like crack, and these chicks know who got the best product in town. They all pay homage to the king,” I boasted. “These bitches got you gassed,” Max said. “Chocolate, I ain’t never met a nigga as stuck on himself as you.” “Stop hating, fool, you know how I do. My show, my way. Recognize!” We exchanged high fives and ordered another round of drinks. Though my niggaz loved me, I know that sometimes they got a little jealous. I was young, fine, and doing me in a major way. I got more pussy on a weekly basis than some of them got in a month, and still I had a bad bitch who was madly in love with me. My game was on a million and it was only gonna get tighter, or so I thought. • • •

• From The Master and Margarita (1966)

  Only when convinced that everything had been done impeccably, only when there came flying in the waiter’s hands a covered pan with something gurgling in it, did Archibald Archibaldovich allow himself to leave the two mysterious visitors, and that after having first whispered to them: ‘Excuse me! One moment! I’ll see to the fillets personally!’ He flew away from the table and disappeared into an inner passage of the restaurant. If any observer had been able to follow the further actions of Archibald Archibaldovich, they would undoubtedly have seemed somewhat mysterious to him. The chief did not go to the kitchen to supervise the fillets at all, but went to the restaurant pantry. He opened it with his own key, locked himself inside, took two hefty balyks from the icebox, carefully, so as not to soil his cuffs, wrapped them in newspaper, tied them neatly with string, and set them aside. Then he made sure that his hat and silk-lined summer coat were in place in the next room, and only after that proceeded to the kitchen, where the chef was carefully boning the fillets the pirate had promised his visitors. It must be said that there was nothing strange or mysterious in any of Archibald Archibaldovich’s actions, and that they could seem strange only to a superficial observer. Archibald Archibaldovich’s behaviour was the perfectly logical result of all that had gone before. A knowledge of the latest events, and above all Archibald Archibaldovich’s phenomenal intuition, told the chief of the Griboedov restaurant that his two visitors’ dinner, while abundant and sumptuous, would be of extremely short duration. And his intuition, which had never yet deceived the former freebooter, did not let him down this time either. Just as Koroviev and Behemoth were clinking their second glasses of wonderful, cold, double-distilled Moskovskaya vodka, the sweaty and excited chronicler Boba Kandalupsky, famous in Moscow for his astounding omniscience, appeared on the veranda and at once sat down with the Petrakovs. Placing his bulging briefcase on the table, Boba immediately put his lips to Petrakov’s ear and whispered some very tempting things into it. Madame Petrakov, burning with curiosity, also put her ear to Boba’s plump, greasy lips. And he, with an occasional furtive look around, went on whispering and whispering, and one could make out separate words, such as: ‘I swear to you!

• From Saint Augustine (Penguin Lives) (1999)

  The coordination of the reform effort comes out in a letter jointly written by Augustine and Alypius to Aurelius in Carthage. They thank him for making it a general practice for priests, as well as bishops, to preach. The level of learning and discipline in the three hundred African bishops had sunk so low that young, better-trained voices had to be brought forward. The two younger men present this development with shrewdly voiced humility: “Let sacred ants bustle along their route, let sacred bees do their fragrant work” (L 41.1). Augustine knew that the effort at cleansing the Church had to have two aspects—internal improvement and disarming of the omnipresent Donatists. The Donatists were heirs to African Christianity’s finest and darkest hours, during Diocletian’s Great Persecution of 303–305. Donatists had tenacious memories, with an abiding scorn for the quislings in that time of trial, who were called “Scripture betrayers” since the clever tactic of the persecutors was to get Christians to be “handers-over” (traditores) of their sacred books. Donatists—named for Donatus, a martyr-hero of the resistance to compromise—refused to accept the traditores back into communion, or else demanded a new baptism (a rite that had been approved by Africa’s great martyr-bishop, Cyprian, in the third century). A traditor bishop was readmitted by the Donatists as a layman, if at all. The Donatists’ insistence on fidelity to death made the martyr’s shrine the center of their cult. Pilgrims to these shrines included a violent wing of the Donatist movement, one ridiculed by its enemies as “hut people,” circumcelliones. They apparently recruited from or mingled with immigrant workers at transient lodgings (A-L, “Circumcelliones,” cols. 930–36). These extremists called themselves the Lord’s Athletes (Agonistici). Their chant Laus Deo became a war cry, and the clubs they carried were known as “Israels” for smiting foes. They kept the impure from their sacred places (the same tombs we have heard Augustine’s mentor in Madauros ridicule for the uncouth names of those buried there). They trafficked in relics and in miracles worked by them. They ranged the countryside courting martyrdom themselves, making a circuit of the shrines much as later pilgrims would journey for their souls’ redemption to the Holy Land. For them, Africa was the Holy Land.

• From Saint Augustine (Penguin Lives) (1999)

  That afternoon, the celebration of vespers was again crowded with people. Bishop Valerius gestured for Augustine to speak, though the latter was anxious to retire now and let the bishop’s authority conclude the day. But then he heard noisy celebrations from the Donatist church, and he could not refrain from boasting that Catholics were now the ascetical party. When Valerius and Augustine left, people stayed on singing and praying till dark. An emotional running engagement with an initially refractory and finally tamed congregation had gone on for fifty hours. It was like the great preaching triumphs of a Savonarola or Whitefield, turning a whole people around. As O’Donnell says, this was Augustine’s “own local triumph, and the making of his reputation as a figure of authority at Hippo” (2.336). Valerius now had to worry that this wondrous reformer would be snatched up by any diocese where a bishopric came open. So, outdoing the audacity with which he had made him a preacher, Valerius pleaded with the primate in Carthage that Hippo be granted the rare privilege of having two bishops, to nail Augustine down to his place. Aurelius got other bishops to go along with this—they were unaware that this kind of arrangement had been forbidden by the Council of Nicaea. In 395, Augustine was consecrated a bishop, at age forty-one, four years after becoming a priest and eight years after his baptism. The new bishop realized it was not enough to satirize Donatist excesses or to outdo them in ascetical discipline. He needed a counter-ecclesiology to show why Donatists’ purism, their hope for a community admitting only saints, was not scripturally warranted. He performed a raid on the Donatists’ own greatest thinker, Tyconius—a man who had been too open toward the corrupt world for the Donatist leader Parmenian, who engineered his excommunication by a Donatist council shortly before Augustine’s return to Africa from Italy. Tyconius never came over to the Catholics, despite his repudiation by the Donatists. Augustine calls him a man “of a conflicted spirit” (absurdissimi cordis, Instruction 3.42). He was “to so bad a cause untiringly true” (Letter to Catholics 1). The strategic thinking behind Augustine’s use of Tyconius is hinted at in the letter he wrote, along with Alypius, coordinating a reform program with Aurelius. After asking that Aurelius send them copies of the new sermons being preached by priests, Augustine adds a personal note: “Nor am I neglecting what you asked for. And I await your decision on Tyconius’ Seven Rules (or Keys), as I have frequently told you in my letters.” This was not a matter of mere intellectual curiosity, as the tactical tenor of the whole letter shows. Augustine had been urging a decision (quid tibi videatur) on the use of Tyconius, a heretic, to confute heretics. Aurelius might well hesitate to have Augustine praise a Donatist as “a man gifted with penetrating intelligence and persuasive rhetoric” (Answer to Parmenian’s Letter 1.1).

• From Saint Augustine (Penguin Lives) (1999)

  His vivid and earthy comparisons give us what Erich Auerbach called sermo humilis at its most pungent. As dung heaped on a field brings forth shining wheat, so penance heaped on the soul brings forth virtue (S 254.2). The Cross was a mousetrap, with the body of Christ as the bait, to trap the devil into loss of his dominion over man (S 263.2, 257.5). Humor is used to ridicule those who would take pride in vows of poverty—they are asking to be called “Sir Bum” (Domine Pauper, S 14.4). His effort at vividness can be almost grotesque. To give force to John the Baptist’s words “He [Christ] must go higher, I lower” (John 3.30), he notes that the manner of each man’s death illustrates the words: Christ went higher on the Cross and John was made shorter when he lost his head (S 380.8). That Augustine took pride in his own virtuosity as a preacher can be seen in the advice he gave to the clergy he was training, telling them that even plainness can pack a wallop: Often even the plainest prose—if it takes up intricate problems and resolves them with an unexpected approach, or draws shrewd insights from unexpected sources (as from some cave or other) and brings them to the light; or if it refutes an opponent, proving that false which seemed invincibly true; doing all this with a certain economy, unstudied and, as it were, spontaneous; with rhythm of phrase not showy but dictated, almost inevitably, by the very things at issue—all this can provoke such applause that the prose hardly seems plain. What else can explain such applause but men’s delight in seeing truth so presented, so protected, so impregnable? Thus even in the plain style your teacher-preacher [doctor et dictor] should take steps to be heard not only with understanding but with pleasure and assent. (Instruction 4.56) Some try to excuse Augustine’s pyrotechnical displays by saying he had to “talk down” to his African audience. But we find him using the same devices—puns, jingles, alliteration—in his more theoretical or intimate works. It is in The Testimony (7.26) that he mocks his pagan philosophizing as a demonstration that he was “not expert but expiring” (non peritus sed periturus). Augustine meant to learn as well as teach when he spoke with fellow believers. His quick responsiveness to an audience’s mood, his improvisation when a text was not working, his bracing rhythms, rhetorical questions, repeated pleas that people listen closely—his almost comic efforts at clarity—show how engaged he was with his listeners: “As far as I can, I’m turning myself inside out for you” (S 120.2). The bond of union Augustine forged with his community appears from passages like this:

• From Comrade Loves of the Samurai (1972)

  But Jinnosuke answered icily: 'I have no need of your help. I am Strong enough to fight alone.'While they were thus becoming heated, Ibei Hanzawa arrived, seconded by sixteen samurai of very vulgar appearance. They meant to fight fiercely, with no thought for their lives. Jinnosuke killed two of them, while Gonkuro Struck down four. Seven others were seriously wounded, the rest fled in terror, and Ibei was killed in single combat. Gonkuro's servant, Hitjisuke, died defending his master. Gonkuro had a slight wound on the forehead, and Jinnosuke was also Stricken in the left shoulder. The two samurai remained conquerors. There was a little Buddhist temple called Yeianji quite close, to which Gonkuro and Jinnosuke walked, and there asked the priest to bury them, after they had killed themselves by Hara-kiri. But the priest dissuaded them, saying: 'You have both behaved very honourably in this duel. You ought first to report the matter to the Lord's advisers and inspectors; and you would do better to die publicly. Then your honour and glory will endure for ever.' He persuaded them to follow his advice, and they obeyed him. Then the priest hurried in person to the office of the police, and himself reported the matter. The Lord, through his inspector, ordered these young men to await their punishment. They were imprisoned and guarded during the night, and the Lord ordered their wounds to be tended. The accomplices of Ibeï were condemned to death; and the cowards who had fled were later found and executed. Jinnosuke had really broken the law by his action. But his father was a very loyal and devoted courtier; and also Jinnosuke had always done his duty faithfully. In the duel he had given proof of great courage and valour by fighting against so many assailants. The Lord thought that he deserved admiration rather than punishment. Therefore he was acquitted, and Gonkuro also obtained pardon. They were both ordered to leave their official service from the fifteenth of the month. The priest buried Ibei and his companions with considerable piety. When Jinnosuke was examined, it was seen that his left sleeve had been cut off, and that his robe was Stained with the blood which he had lost. But he did not specially suffer from his wounds, although he had more than twenty-seven of them on his body. He was greatly admired for his courage and endurance. [image file=image_rsrc1KV.jpg] 13 Love long ConcealedFOLLOWING A DISPUTE WITH THE counsellor of the Lord of the Province of Osumi, the samurai Jiuzayemon Fatjibana retired from official life. He lived very comfortably with his wife and son in a remote village. His son, Tamanosuke, was at that time fifteen years old, and so beautiful that people thought it a pity to leave him hidden in this remote village, and not to make him a well-known samurai in some large town.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The principle ruled that an education was free to all whose circumstances did not enable them to pay for it. Others paid their way. Fulbert of Chartres took a fee from the rapidly increasing number of students, regarding philosophy as worth what was paid for it. But this practice was regarded as exceptional and met with opposition.1199 The words of Alcuin, "If you desire to study, you will have what you seek without money," were inscribed on the convent of St. Peter at Salzburg.1200 It was the boast that the care given to the humblest scholar at Cluny was as diligent as the care given to children in the palace.1201 § 89. Books and Libraries. Literature: E. Edwards: Libraries and Founders of Libraries, Lond., 1865.—T. Gottlieb: Mittetalt. Bibliotheken, Leip., 1890.—F. A. Gasquet: Notes on Med. Libraries, Lond., 1891.—E. M. Thompson: Hd. book of Gr. and Lat. Palaeography, Lond., 1893. Contains excellent facsimiles of med. MSS., etc.—J. W. CLARK: Libraries in the Med. and Renaiss. Periods, Cambr., 1894.—G. R. Putnam: Books and their Makers, 476–1709, 2 vols. N. Y., 1896 sq. See his elaborate list of books on monastic education, libraries, etc., I. xviii. sqq.—Mirbt: Publizistik in Zeitalter Greg. VII., pp. 96 sqq. and 119 sqq.—*Maitland: The Dark Ages.—*W. Wattenbach: D. Schriftwesen in Mittelalter, 3d ed., Leip., 1896.—Art. Bibliothek in Wetzer-Welte, II. 783 sqq. Transl. and Reprints of Univ. of Pa. II. 3. Books and schools go together and both are essential to progress of thought in the Church. The mediaeval catalogue of the convent of Muri asserts strongly the close union of the intellectual and religious life. It becomes us, so it ran, always to copy, adorn, improve, and annotate books, because the life of the spiritual man is nothing without books.1202 Happy was the convent that possessed a few volumes.1203 The convent and the cathedral were almost the sole receptacles for books. Here they were most safe from the vandalism of invaders and the ravages of fire, so frequent in the Middle Ages; and here they were accessible to the constituency which could read. It was a current saying, first traced to Gottfried, canon of St. Barbe-en-Auge, that a convent without a library is like a fortress without arms.1204 During the early Middle Ages, there were small collections of books at York, Fulda, Monte Cassino, and other monasteries. They were greatly prized, and ecclesiastics made journeys to get them, as did Biscop, abbot of Wearmouth, who made five trips to Italy for that purpose. During the two centuries and more after Gregory VII., the use and the number of books increased; but it remained for the zeal of Petrarch in the fourteenth century to open a new era in the history of libraries. The period of the Renaissance which followed witnessed an unexampled avidity for old manuscripts which the transition of scholars from Constantinople made it possible to satisfy.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The same year, as if to show his independence of papal dictation and at the same time the sincerity of his crusading purpose, the emperor actually started upon a crusade, usually called the Fifth Crusade. On being informed of the expedition, the pope excommunicated, him for the third time and inhibited the patriarch of Jerusalem and the Military Orders from giving him aid. The expedition was successful in spite of the papal malediction, and entering Jerusalem Frederick crowned himself king in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. Thus we have the singular spectacle of the chief monarch of Christendom conducting a crusade in fulfillment of a vow to two popes while resting under the solemn ban of a third. Yea, the second crusader who entered the Holy City as a conqueror, and the last one to do so, was at the time not only resting under a triple ban, but was excommunicated a fourth time on his return from his expedition to Europe. He was excommunicated for not going, he was excommunicated for going, and he was excommunicated on coming back, though it was not in disgrace but in triumph. The emperor’s troops bearing the cross were met on their return to Europe by the papal army whose banners were inscribed with the keys. Frederick’s army was victorious. Diplomacy, however, prevailed, and emperor and pope dined together at Anagni (Sept. 1, 1230) and arranged a treaty.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  There is a correspondence between the four possible attitudes on both aspects of the Johannean question, and the parties advocating them. The result of the conflict will be the substantial triumph of the faith of the church which accepts, on new grounds of evidence, all the four Gospels as genuine and historical, and the Apocalypse and the fourth Gospel as the works of John. The Assaults on the Fourth Gospel. Criticism has completely shifted its attitude on both parts of the problem. The change is very remarkable. When the first serious assault was made upon the genuineness of the fourth Gospel by the learned General Superintendent Bretschneider (in 1820), he was met with such overwhelming opposition, not only from evangelical divines like Olshausen and Tholuck, but also from Schleiermacher, Lücke, Credner, and Schott, that he honestly confessed his defeat a few years afterward (1824 and 1828).1086 And when Dr. Strauss, in his Leben Jesu (1835), renewed the denial, a host of old and new defenders arose with such powerful arguments that he himself (as he confessed in the third edition of 1838) was shaken in his doubt, especially by the weight and candor of Neander, although he felt compelled, in self-defence, to reaffirm his doubt as essential to the mythical hypothesis (in the fourth edition, 1840, and afterward in his popular Leben Jesu, 1864). But in the meantime his teacher, Dr. Baur, the coryphaeus of the Tübingen school, was preparing his heavy ammunition, and led the second, the boldest, the most vigorous and effective assault upon the Johannean fort (since 1844).1087 He was followed in the main question, though with considerable modifications in detail, by a number of able and acute critics in Germany and other countries. He represented the fourth Gospel as a purely ideal work which grew out of the Gnostic, Montanistic, and paschal controversies after the middle of the second century, and adjusted the various elements of the Catholic faith with consummate skill and art. It was not intended to be a history, but a system of theology in the garb of history. This "tendency" hypothesis was virtually a death-blow to the mythical theory of Strauss, which excludes conscious design. The third great assault inspired by Baur, yet with independent learning and judgment, was made by Dr. Keim (in his Geschichte Jesu von Nazara, 1867). He went beyond Baur in one point: he denied the whole tradition of John’s sojourn in Ephesus as a mistake of Irenaeus; he thus removed even the foundation for the defence of the Apocalypse as a Johannean production, and neutralized the force of the Tübingen assault derived from that book. On the other hand, he approached the traditional view by tracing the composition back from 170 (Baur) to the reign of Trajan, i.e., to within a few years after the death of the apostle.

• From I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969)

  In Arkansas, where we cured our own meat, we ate half-inch slabs of ham for breakfast, but in St. Louis we bought the paper-thin slices in a strange-smelling German store and ate them in sandwiches. If Grandmother never lost her German accent, she also never lost her taste for the thick black German Brot, which we bought unsliced. In Stamps, lettuce was used only to make a bed for potato salad or slaw, and peanuts were brought in raw from the field and roasted in the bottom of the oven on cold nights. The rich scents used to fill the house and we were always expected to eat too many. But that was a Stamps custom. In St. Louis, peanuts were bought in paper bags and mixed with jelly beans, which meant that we ate the salt and sugar together and I found them a delicious treat. The best thing the big town had to offer. When we enrolled in Toussaint L'Ouverture Grammar School, we were struck by the ignorance of our schoolmates and the rudeness of our teachers. Only the vastness of the building impressed us; not even the white school in Stamps was as large. The students, however, were shockingly backward. Bailey and I did arithmetic at a mature level because of our work in the Store, and we read well because in Stamps there wasn't anything else to do. We were moved up a grade because our teachers thought that we country children would make our classmates feel inferior—and we did. Bailey would not refrain from remarking on our classmates' lack of knowledge. At lunchtime in the large gray concrete playground, he would stand in the center of a crowd of big boys and ask, “Who was Napoleon Bonaparte?” “How many feet make a mile?” It was infighting, Bailey style. Any of the boys might have been able to beat him with their fists, but if they did, they'd just have had to do it again the next day, and Bailey never held a brief for fighting fair. He taught me that once I got into a fight I should “grab for the balls right away.” He never answered when I asked, “Suppose I'm fighting a girl?” We went to school there a full year, but all I remember hearing that I hadn't heard before was, “Making thousands of egg-shaped oughts will improve penmanship.” The teachers were more formal than those we knew in Stamps, and although they didn't whip their students with switches, they gave them licks in the palms of their hands with rulers. In Stamps teachers were much friendlier, but that was because they were imported from the Arkansas Negro colleges, and since we had no hotels or rooming houses in town, they had to live with private families.

• From Tropic of Cancer (1934)

  Here I am up on the balcony, waiting for Boris to arrive. My last problem—breakfast —is gone. I have simplified everything. If there are any new problems I can carry them in my rucksack, along with my dirty wash. I am throwing away all my sous. What need have I for money? I am a writing machine. The last screw has been added. The thing flows. Between me and the machine there is no estrangement. I am the machine. … They have not told me yet what the new drama is about, but I can sense it. They are trying to get rid of me. Yet here I am for my dinner, even a little earlier than they expected. I have informed them where to sit, what to do. I ask them politely if I shall be disturbing them, but what I really mean, and they know it well, is—will you be disturbing me? No, you blissful cockroaches, you are not disturbing me. You are nourishing me. I see you sitting there close together and I know there is a chasm between you. Your nearness is the nearness of planets. I am the void between you. If I withdraw there will be no void for you to swim in. Tania is in a hostile mood—I can feel it. She resents my being filled with anything but herself. She knows by the very caliber of my excitement that her value is reduced to zero. She knows that I did not come this evening to fertilize her. She knows there is something germinating inside me which will destroy her. She is slow to realize, but she is realizing it… Sylvester looks more content. He will embrace her this evening at the dinner table. Even now he is reading my manuscript, preparing to inflame my ego, to set my ego against hers. It will be a strange gathering this evening. The stage is being set. I hear the tinkle of the glasses. The wine is being brought out. There will be bumpers downed and Sylvester who is ill will come out of his illness. It was only last night, at Cronstadt’s, that we projected this setting. It was ordained that the women must suffer, that off-stage there should be more terror and violence, more disasters, more suffering, more woe and misery. It is no accident that propels people like us to Paris. Paris is simply an artificial stage, a revolving stage that permits the spectator to glimpse all phases of the conflict. Of itself Paris initiates no dramas. They are begun elsewhere. Paris is simply an obstetrical instrument that tears the living embryo from the womb and puts it in the incubator. Paris is the cradle of artificial births. Rocking here in the cradle each one slips back into his soil: one dreams back to Berlin, New York, Chicago, Vienna, Minsk. Vienna is never more Vienna than in Paris. Everything is raised to apotheosis.

• From An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness (1995)

  Although, like all military families, we moved a lot—by the fifth grade my older brother, sister, and I had attended four different elementary schools, and we had lived in Florida, Puerto Rico, California, Tokyo, and Washington, twice—our parents, especially my mother, kept life as secure, warm, and constant as possible. My brother was the eldest and the steadiest of the three of us children and my staunch ally, despite the three-year difference in our ages. I idolized him growing up and often trailed along after him, trying very hard to be inconspicuous, when he and his friends would wander off to play baseball or cruise the neighborhood. He was smart, fair, and self-confident, and I always felt that there was a bit of extra protection coming my way whenever he was around. My relationship with my sister, who was only thirteen months older than me, was more complicated. She was the truly beautiful one in the family, with dark hair and wonderful eyes, who from the earliest times was almost painfully aware of everything around her. She had a charismatic way, a fierce temper, very black and passing moods, and little tolerance for the conservative military lifestyle that she felt imprisoned us all. She led her own life, defiant, and broke out with abandon whenever and wherever she could. She hated high school and, when we were living in Washington, frequently skipped classes to go to the Smithsonian or the Army Medical Museum or just to smoke and drink beer with her friends. She resented me, feeling that I was, as she mockingly put it, “the fair-haired one”—a sister, she thought, to whom friends and schoolwork came too easily—passing far too effortlessly through life, protected from reality by an absurdly optimistic view of people and life. Sandwiched between my brother, who was a natural athlete and who never seemed to see less-than-perfect marks on his college and graduate admission examinations, and me, who basically loved school and was vigorously involved in sports and friends and class activities, she stood out as the member of the family who fought back and rebelled against what she saw as a harsh and difficult world. She hated military life, hated the constant upheaval and the need to make new friends, and felt the family politeness was hypocrisy.

• From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

  Wherein does the superiority of Jesus over Moses lie? The picture in the mind of the writer to the Hebrews is this. He thinks of the world as God’s house and God’s family. We use the word house in a double sense. We use it in the sense of a building and also in the sense of a family. The Greeks used oikos in the same double sense. The world is God’s house, and we are God’s family. But he has already shown us the picture of Jesus as the creator of God’s universe. Now, Moses was only part of God’s universe, part of the house. But Jesus is the creator of the house, and the creator is bound to stand above the house itself. Moses did not create the law; he only passed it on to the people. Moses did not create the house; he only served in it. Moses did not speak of himself; all that he ever said was only a pointer to the greater things that Jesus Christ would some day say. In short, Moses was the servant; but Jesus was the Son. Moses knew a little about God; Jesus was God. Therein lies the secret of his superiority. Now, the writer to the Hebrews uses another picture. True, the whole world is God’s house; but in a special sense the Church is God’s house, for in a special sense God brought it into being. That is a picture the New Testament loves (cf. 1 Peter 4:17; 1 Timothy 3:15; and especially 1 Peter 2:5). That building of the Church will stand and be indestructible only when every stone is firm; that is to say, when every member is strong in the proud and confident hope that he or she has in Jesus Christ. Each one of us is like a stone in the Church; if one stone is weak, the whole structure is endangered. The Church stands firm only when each living stone in it is rooted and grounded in faith in Jesus Christ. WHILE TODAY STILL LASTSHebrews 3:7–19

• From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

  Moses did not create the law; he only passed it on to the people. Moses did not create the house; he only served in it. Moses did not speak of himself; all that he ever said was only a pointer to the greater things that Jesus Christ would some day say. In short, Moses was the servant; but Jesus was the Son. Moses knew a little about God; Jesus was God. Therein lies the secret of his superiority. Now, the writer to the Hebrews uses another picture. True, the whole world is God’s house; but in a special sense the Church is God’s house, for in a special sense God brought it into being. That is a picture the New Testament loves (cf. 1 Peter 4:17; 1 Timothy 3:15; and especially 1 Peter 2:5). That building of the Church will stand and be indestructible only when every stone is firm; that is to say, when every member is strong in the proud and confident hope that he or she has in Jesus Christ. Each one of us is like a stone in the Church; if one stone is weak, the whole structure is endangered. The Church stands firm only when each living stone in it is rooted and grounded in faith in Jesus Christ. WHILE TODAY STILL LASTS Hebrews 3:7–19 So then, as the Holy Spirit says, ‘If today you will hear my voice, do not harden your hearts, as in the Provocation, as happened on the day of the Temptation in the wilderness, where your fathers tried to test me, and, in consequence, experienced for forty years what I could do. So my anger was kindled against that generation, and I said: “Always they wander in their hearts; they do not know my ways.” So I swore in my anger: “Very certainly they shall not enter into my rest.”’ Have a care, brothers, lest that evil and disobedient heart be in any of you in a state of rebellion against the living God. But keep on exhorting each other day by day, so long as the term ‘today’ can be used, lest any among you be hardened in heart by the seductiveness of sin; for you have become participators in Christ, if indeed you hold fast the beginning of your confidence firm to the end. While it is still possible to hear it being said, ‘If today you will hear my voice,’ do not harden your hearts as at the Provocation. For who heard and provoked God? Was it not all who came forth from Egypt under the leadership of Moses? Against whom was God’s anger kindled for forty years? Was it not against those who had sinned and whose bones lay in the desert? To whom did he swear that they should not enter into his rest, if not to those who were disobedient? Thus we see that it was through disobedience that they could not enter in.