The back cover of my well-worn copy of Brideshead Revisited describes the novel as Evelyn Waugh's homage to the past, a book "alight with the glittering-candle glow of an elegant age that was already passing away."
In another well-worn favorite, A Severe Mercy (a natural sequel to Brideshead which I highly recommend to those who haven't read it), author Sheldon Vanauken describes his 1940s-era courtship of his wife, Davy. As college students, the two loved to spend hours in the library of his father's genteel club, sipping drinks and talking or reading in front of an enormous fireplace. Above the ornate fireplace, these words were inscribed: "Music, Books, and Friends decree Wisdom, Strength, and Courtesy". The two young lovers took the quote to heart, and made music, books, and loving friendship integral parts of their marriage.
Yesterday I attended a lecture at the old and prestigious University Club of Chicago. One room in particular featured a stone fireplace, chairs, and books - reminding me of Vanauken's description of his father's club. Unfortunately the lecture and discussion afterwards centered on the demise of Western civilization; the modern disrespect for old ways, traditions, and places.
Out of all this, came the following. I am sure that you all have places where you have felt the same way.
On Evening
I like these enclaves of old, their often moss-grown quietness.
The robust armchairs before a vast fireside of stone.
Bound books line walls of places too loved, to be allowed to live long.
Will you sit with mead and mugs before the fire, care not for drops of snow that mist the pane.
Will you breathe the scent of must and conversation in places that for years have been the same.
Preserve the enclave, grey stone and ivy clinging. A berth, a port, to feet that wander far. How long can comfort last beneath these ill-crossed stars?
Music, books, and friends decree wisdom, strength, and courtesy
Will we lose plush carpets, slightly worn where soft-shod feet have stood.
The diamond panes of windows built for carriage views and not for conservation.
Will it last?
Can it last?
Carry the flame of impractical oak logs and hearts and tongues that dance to the tune of port and sherry.
Carry this, for it cannot last long.
- LC
In another well-worn favorite, A Severe Mercy (a natural sequel to Brideshead which I highly recommend to those who haven't read it), author Sheldon Vanauken describes his 1940s-era courtship of his wife, Davy. As college students, the two loved to spend hours in the library of his father's genteel club, sipping drinks and talking or reading in front of an enormous fireplace. Above the ornate fireplace, these words were inscribed: "Music, Books, and Friends decree Wisdom, Strength, and Courtesy". The two young lovers took the quote to heart, and made music, books, and loving friendship integral parts of their marriage.
Yesterday I attended a lecture at the old and prestigious University Club of Chicago. One room in particular featured a stone fireplace, chairs, and books - reminding me of Vanauken's description of his father's club. Unfortunately the lecture and discussion afterwards centered on the demise of Western civilization; the modern disrespect for old ways, traditions, and places.
Out of all this, came the following. I am sure that you all have places where you have felt the same way.
On Evening
I like these enclaves of old, their often moss-grown quietness.
The robust armchairs before a vast fireside of stone.
Bound books line walls of places too loved, to be allowed to live long.
Will you sit with mead and mugs before the fire, care not for drops of snow that mist the pane.
Will you breathe the scent of must and conversation in places that for years have been the same.
Preserve the enclave, grey stone and ivy clinging. A berth, a port, to feet that wander far. How long can comfort last beneath these ill-crossed stars?
Music, books, and friends decree wisdom, strength, and courtesy
Will we lose plush carpets, slightly worn where soft-shod feet have stood.
The diamond panes of windows built for carriage views and not for conservation.
Will it last?
Can it last?
Carry the flame of impractical oak logs and hearts and tongues that dance to the tune of port and sherry.
Carry this, for it cannot last long.
- LC
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