The Gandhian Outlook – Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (Summary)

The Gandhian Outlook – Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan

Mahatma Gandhiji, as Sarvepalli Radhakrishanan said in his essay “The Gandhian Outlook”, was truly a religious man. Gandhiji was great admirer of all religions – Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam and others. He realized them in practice the theoretical implications of each religion from its beginning. He understood that Hinduism talk about Abhaya, Ahimsa and Fearlessness and Love, Buddhism talk about Wisdom, Love and Compassion Prajana and Karuna, Christanity talk about Truth and Freedom and Muslims speak of One God and One family on the earth. Gandhiji strongly felt that people have knowledge of their religions but not the deed, which answers to their knowledge.

The greatest contribution of Gandhiji is to make us understand the very essence of those religions and incarnate the great ideals of Truth and Love, which are very foundations of every religion to evolve.  Whenever Gandhiji intended to teach people, he takes up some line of conduct, examines and re-examines it thoroughly, with all fasting and praying, ransacked his brains until at last he was able to say: “This is line of conduct on which to proceed.” Gandhiji never preached anything to anyone without practice. He attained that stage through constant efforts and commitment. He, therefore, expected the highest standards of conduct from everyone who come into contact with him.

Distinctions of race, nationality and sect have no room in Gandhian ethics. Patriotism is not enough. A truly religious man does not restrict his commitment to any country or nation. His loyalty is to the whole of humanity. He acknowledges all great religions as embodying the truth and, therefore, worthy of deep reverence.

He was a revolutionary who was committed to overthrow of all forms of tyranny and social injustice, but who never bore ill will towards anyone, who led a mighty movement against British imperialism, but never allowed the movement to be accompanied by hatred, rancour or resentment against Englishmen. He was not an intellectual in the conventional sense of the term. He was not an academic philosopher propounding his philosophy in a precise manner.

Education should not only help in acquiring knowl­edge and arousing intellectual curiosity, but should inculcate right ideals through knowledge of the nation's social and cultural heritage. The Mahatma rejected the caste system based on birth as immoral. He wanted the organisation of the economy based on hereditary occupations on the ground that they helped to transmit knowledge and skill to the succeeding generations.

His greatest contribution to modern thought lies in his insistence that man is fundamentally a spiritual and moral being and that society is an association of human spirits an association that is not limited in any way by considerations of nationality, race, creed or sex. This is a simple doctrine, yet how profoundly revolutionary.

He wants men and women who are noble, public-spirited, disciplined, who are always bound by the laws of Dharma, who are fully conscious of their social obligations, and who think not in terms of self-interest and self-aggrandizement, but of service to the community and its corporate life. He also wants a society in which every man would be able to live in freedom and achieve creative self-expression. Thus, S. Radhakrishanan advocated on The Gandhian Outlook.

                                                 ----000----

                                                   

The Cabuliwallah – Rabindranath Tagore (Summary)

The Summary of The Cabuliwallah – Rabindranath Tagore

The father of a five-year-old Mini narrates the well-knitted short story ‘The Cabuliwallah’. The most innocent and prattling girl Mini and Abdur Rahman, a street peddler of dry fruits from Kabul are the central characters of the story.

On one sunny morning, Mini saw a street peddler through the window of her house and called him “A Cabuliwallah! A Cabuliwallah!” A tall and gigantic man with a turban on his head and huge sack slung over his shoulder has answered to her call. As soon as he drew closer to the house to answer Mini’s call, Mini ran away and hid herself in the folds of her mother’s sari. Mini’s father bought some dry fruits for her, chatted with him, and came to know that he was from Kabul and his family was at Kabul. Then he called Mini from her hiding and introduced her to Abdur Rahma.  In order to shed her fears of Mini, Rahman took some dry fruits from his bag and bundled them up on other free end of her sari like garment.  

Later, Mini’s father found that his daughter Mini and the Cabuliwallah had struck up in a happy friendly relationship and they met often almost every day. The Cabuliwallah was a patient listener to Mini’s prattle and gave her lavish amounts of nuts and raisins. The Cabuliwallah entertained her with the fascinating stories of his motherland.  However, the suspicious Mini’s mother was always worrying at their friendship and frightened that he would take away her daughter, Mini and sell her off as a slave to someone.

As it was going on, one day all of a sudden a disaster struck the Cabuliwallah. He was arrested and sentenced him to several years of imprisonment for stabbing one of his customers to death who owed him money.

After his release from the jail, the Cabuliwallah went to Mini’s house to see her. To his surprise, he found that Mini had grown up, and it was her wedding day. Mini’s father was not happy to see him on that day and considered it inauspicious to let him to see Mini. He persuaded him to go away. Before going away, the Cabuliwallah left a few grapes and raisins wrapped in a piece of paper for Mini. He then showed Mini’s father an old and shriveled piece of paper with a black impression of a small tiny hand of his daughter. Filled with pity for the Cabuliwallah, Mini’s father called his daughter. When the Cabuliwallah saw Mini in her wedding dress, he was surprised to find a young woman that he could not recognize. Mini embarrassed when she thought of their long-forgotten companionship. The Cabuliwallah found extremely difficult to reconcile with the reality.  Seeing the predicament of the Cabuliwallah, Mini’s father offered him one hundred rupees enough to return to his native place, Kabul to see his own daughter there. He gave him the money by cutting down some the expensive wedding celebrations to meet the expenses of a distressed father. Mini’s father is contended with his humanistic gesture to help someone who is in distress and helpless and he wanted see his own daughter after a long time.

-----

Of Travel – Francis Bacon (Text)

Of Travel – Francis Bacon

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel. That young man  travel under some tutor, or grave servant, I allow well; so that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the country before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen in the country where they go; what acquaintances they are to seek; what exercises or discipline the place yieldeth. For else young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing, that in sea-voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries; but in land-travel, wherein so much is to be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter to be registered than observation. Let diaries therefore be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are, the courts of princes, especially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so o consistories ecclesiastic ; the churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are therein extant; that walls and fortifications of cities and towns, an so the havens and harbours; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations, and lectures, where any are; shipping and navies; houses and gardens of stat and pleasure, near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; exchanges; burses; warehouses; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like; comedies, such whereunto the better sort of persons do resort, treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to conclude, whatsoever s memorable in the places where they go. After all which tutors or servants ought to make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and such shows, men need not be put in mind of them; yet are they not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you must do. First as was said, he must have some entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must have such a servant or tutor as knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let him carry with him also some card or book describing the country where he travelleth; which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary. Let him not stay long in one city or town; more or less as the place deserveth, but not long; nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change lodging from one end and part of the town to another; which is a great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himself from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him upon his removes from one place to another, procure recommendation to some person of quality residing in the place whither re removeth; that he may use his favour in those things he desireth to see or know. Thus he may abridge his travel with much profit. As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel;  that which is most of all profitable, is acquaintance with secretaries and employed men of ambassadors; for so in travelling in one country, he shall suck the experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds, which are of great name abroad; that he may be able to tell how life agreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with care and discretion to be avoided.  They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and words. And let a man beware how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into their own quarrels. When a traveler returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath travelled altogether behind him; but maintain a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaintances, which are of most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his discourse than in his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse let him be rather advised in his answers, than forward to tell stories; and let it appear that he doth not change his country manners for those of foreign parts; but only prick in some flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the customs of his own country.

-----

How Should One Read A Book? – Virginia Woolf (Summary)

How Should One Read A Book? – Virginia Woolf

Adeline Virginia Woolf was an English writer who considered one of the foremost modernists of the twentieth century, and a pioneer in the use of stream of consciousness as a narrative device.

In the essay, “How Should One Read a Book?”  from the pen of Virginia Woolf talks about how she views reading a book as personal experience for everyone. She views reading is a thing of liberty and freedom, where you can escape and not be bothered by what everyone else thinks. It is fact that Woolf’s feelings about reading influenced her writings. She wrote whatever she wanted and never censored her thoughts. She also wants to change the way we see certain literature. We see fiction as mere amusement, poetry as false and biographies are flattering. She describes poetry and biography extensively and uses examples from other writers.  This reading of a book is teaching us, what Woolf thinks, is the proper way to read a book. She believes that even if we read something a hundred times we will never be able to truly criticize or understand it, because literature is so deep and profound.

In the first paragraph Woolf says, “the only advice indeed, that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions.” Similarly, she is trying to say that no one views and imagines a book in the same way. The readers do not even imagine a book the way, how the writer intended to communicate them. Therefore, it may be in a way the readers are also the writers since they come up with their own conclusions. It is like when a book becomes a movie: the director shows the way that he viewed the book; he may even change certain events and characters for the movie. The writer may argue against this but they can do nothing about it, since the director had made it his own. Woolf also argues that one cannot truly say that one book is better than other is. “Romeo and Juliet” may be viewed as one of the greatest books of all times, but to whom? All we see it a certain way and Shakespeare certainly is not with us to discuss and decide which book is better than the other.

It is ironical that Woolf is trying to say that we should not be told how to read a book since it takes away our freedom, but later on she is telling us how we should read a book. She tells us not to dictate the author but to try to become him. She is convincing the reader that he/she should not ask, “Why would the character do that? I would have made them do so and so.” The reader should respect the author’s choice and try to understand why they wrote that. She also thinks that it takes away from us truly enjoying the book. She thinks that when we read, we are in a different world, and when we read, we should not let things from our present world influence the way we are seeking in the book. It also seems like Woolf is questioning the intelligence of the readers. She seems to believe that one must be an intellectual and college-educated person in order to appreciate a book.

At the conclusion of the essay, it shows how much Virginia Woolf loved and valued reading. She looks at it as a kind of holy thing that will get you into Heaven. She thinks that the people with books under their arms will get into Heaven before the lawyers and the statesmen. She thinks that we not only read for pleasure but also it is a good thing to do.   

----0000---

Model Millionaire – Oscar Wilde (Summary)

Model Millionaire – Oscar Wilde

The Protagonist of the short story “Model Millionaire” by Oscar Wilde is a young man called Hughie Erskine. Hughie is handsome, charming and popular but he has been very unlucky as far as financial matters are concerned. He was left nothing of any great value in his father’s will. He has tried his hand at several different businesses, all of which have failed. Having no job, Hughie has only source of income is two hundred pounds a year, which is given to him by an elderly aunt. Hughie has fallen in love with a woman named Laura Merton and she loves him in return. Laura’s father, Colonel Merton, is fond of Hughie but, due to his poor financial prospects, he does not want the young man to marry his daughter. He has often told Hughie that he will only allow him to be engaged to Laura after he has earned ten thousand pounds.

One day Hughie goes to see  his artist friend Alan Trevor in his studio. He finds that Alan is painting a portrait of an old man who appears to be a beggar. The old man is wearing a tattered brown cloak and boots, which have been mended several times. He has a rough walking staff in one hand and in the other hand, he is holding out an old hat as if to beg alms. His face is heavily wrinkled and he looks extremely sad. Both Alan Trevor and Hughie Erskine agree that the old man is an excellent subject for a painting. Hughie, however, cannot help feeling sorry for the measurable state of the man. He thinks it is unfair that, although paintings regularly sell for two thousand guineas, He only pays his models one shilling for an hour to pose for him and does not give them a percentage of the money, which he makes from sales of their portraits.

When Alan leaves the studio to meet frame designer for his paintings, Hughie fumbles his pockets, finds sovereign, and drops it into the withered hands of a beggar. Hughie gives the coin to the old man, who appears very happy to receive it although it means great value to him for the expense of the entire month. Soon Hughie leaves the studio.

Alan and Hughie meet again in a smoking room of a restaurant. The artist, Alan tells his friend that, after he left, and old man asked several questions about him. Alan goes on to say that he told the old man all about Hughie, Laura Merton and the condition, which Colonel Merton set that prevents their marriage. Hughie fells very unhappy that his friend told that old beggar all about his private life. Hughie amused that Alan tells Hughie that the old man he was painting was Baron Hausberg, one of the wealthiest men in Europe and someone who often buys Alan’s paintings. For reasons, which Alan does not really understand, the millionaire baron had asked to be painted as a beggar. Alan supplied the tattered clothes he was wearing. Hughie feels ashamed about having given a coin to a millionaire, although Alan tells him not to worry.

The following day, a representative of Baron Hausberg comes to Hughie’s house with an envelope. The writing on the envelope says that it contains a wedding present “from an old beggar”. Inside the envelope, Hughie finds a bank cheque for ten thousand pounds. Hughie and Laura get married. Baron Hausberg attends their wedding feast.

****

A valuable advice from English Alphabet

A valuable advice from English Alphabet

Always Be Cool Don’t have Ego with Friends and Family.

Give up Hurting Individuals.

Just Keep Loving Mankind.

Never Omit Prayers.

Quietly Remember God.

Speak Truth. Use Valid Words.

Xpress Your Zeal.

*****

The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost (Text and summary)

The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost (Summary)

The Road Not Taken is one of the finest poems of Robert Frost, which always give us a mysterious reading experience. His poems appear to be very simple but they are not exactly straightforward. The poems of Robert Frost suggest us with inner meaning, which is more profound than they appear.

The poem The Road Not Taken looks like a personal poem about a decision of vast importance, but there is serious contemplation in taking right decision in case of choice. The Road Not Taken is the most popular of the lyrics published in 1916 in the volume of poems entitled Mountain Interval. It is one of those lyrics, which combine “inner vision and the outer contemplative narration”. The poet’s imagination is set at work by the difficulty of choosing one of the two roads, which diverge at a particular point, and he comments on the difficulty and significance of making a choice in general.

One day, while travelling alone, the poet reached a point where the road diverged into two. He could not decide which road is to be taken. Finally, he chose one because it seemed a little less frequented though actually there was no much difference for, “the passing there had worn them really about the same”. Yet, even at the moment of choice, the poet was the view that the choice was important, that he would someday tell himself he took the less travelled road.

“I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

The poet’s “difference” is in him from the beginning, long before he sets out on his career. The road that Robert Frost took was not the ‘different’ road, the right road for him, but it was also the only road he could have taken. As a famous critic points out “it was the ‘choice’ the poet made which determined his destiny, and made him a poet different from others. It is in this way that the future is determined. It is thus that even minor decisions have far-reaching and life-long consequences. A step once taken, a way once chosen, can never be retraced.” 

*****

Coromandel Fishers – Sarojini Naidu (Text and Summary)

Coromandel Fishers – Sarojini  Naidu

Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light,
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free,
To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the sea! 

No longer delay, let us hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call,
The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother, the waves are our comrades all.
What though we toss at the fall of the sun, where the hand of the sea-god drives?
He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast our lives. 

Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and the scent of the mango grove,
And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moon with the sound of the voices we love;
But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild foam's glee;
Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge, where the low sky mates with the sea. 

*****

The Coromandel Fishers  (Summary):

Sarojini Naidu’s poetry is a veritable portrait-gallery of Indian folk characters, living their lives, and carrying on their different vocations against a rural background, which is faithful representation of the Indian rural landscape, with its vividly realized flora and fauna. The picture of India and the life of her masses thus evoked in a beautiful romantic way. The Coromandel Fishers not only expresses the fishermen’s identity with the sea and with the community, but also the folk sense of order and discipline. It evokes a folk-vocation, which is yet untouched by modern technology and sophistication. 

The poem sums up as thus: The early and daily morning song that is inculcated in the hearts and minds of the simple fishing community in the eastern coast of India. 

It calls them all at each and every early dawn to tell the menfolk to rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light for the great catch throughout the day. The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night. They should leave immediately and let them gather their nets from the shore and set their catamarans; a yacht or other boat with twin hulls in parallel free. To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, the innumerable and immeasurable shoal of fish that moves with the warm ocean current; for these simple fishing folks are the kings of the sea! 

No longer had delay let them hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call. The sea is their mother, the cloud is their brother, and the waves are their comrades all. What though they toss at the fall of the sun where the hand of the sea-god drives? He, who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast their lives. 

Sweet is the shade of the coconut glade; an open space in a wood or forest; and the scent of the mango grove; a small wood, orchard, or group of trees. And sweet are the sands at the full of the moon; the light of the full moon lightens the surface water of the sea; with the sound of the voices they love; while returning to the shore they sing in rejoice to close each triumphant day. As the endlessly moving waves washes the sores of the land, they create very thick foam at the boundary of the water and the land. But sweeter, are the brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild foam's glee; great delight: a song for men’s voices in three or more parts, usually unaccompanied. Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge; an edge or border; where the low sky mates with the sea; the point over the horizon where the sea appears to touch the sky. 

****

Courtesy: Manglore University

Of Studies – Francis Bacon (Text and Summary)

Of Studies – Francis Bacon (Text)

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgement and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgement wholly by their rules, is the humour of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected by experience: for natural abilities are like natural plants that need proyning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience.  Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be taste, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously;   and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a read man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need a present wit and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abeunt Studia in mores: [Studies pass into character.]   Nay there is no stond on impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies: like as disease of the body may have appropriate exercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the head; and the like. So f a man’s wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the schoolmen; for they are cymini sectors. If he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers’ cases. So every defect of the mind may have a special receipt.

----

Of Studies – Francis Bacon  (Summary)

Study as an activity, in whatever form, brings us joy and enhances our thinking, speaking and writing ability adding charm to our personality. Study is always a private activity, which people engage in when they are alone or in the privacy of their homes. It helps them in relaxation after a strenuous routine, when the body and mind need to slow down. It sharpens our intellect helping us to judge things soundly. It helps us to go about our life’s business in a more capable way. 

It enables the learned men, who have studied extensively, to critically examine issues, and arrive at the right conclusion. They can garner data, facts and arguments or against a particular view rationally. Such intelligent analysis of facts improves the soundness and quality of their judgment. However, over-indulgence in studies leads to undesirable consequences. Setting aside long hours in a day to study will make a man lazy. Overuse of the wisdom to analyze ordinary commonplace issues may make the man appear pretentious and vainglorious. Sticking too much to rules to asses situations and decide on action may invite derision from others.

Studying adds discretion and perfection to human nature. Experiences in life supplements such honing of nature. A person’s abilities inherited by birth are raw. Only when they are carefully worked upon and honed, the in-born abilities yield the best benefits to us. Studying is the whetstone that we use to sharpen our abilities. But inferences from study may lead to imprecise and misleading conclusions. In such situations, one’s experience in life comes in handy to arrive at the right conclusion. So, experience is very valuable as it supplements studies.

People who are cunning and deceitful have no appreciation for studies as they accomplish their objectives through many crooked ways. Simple folks, however, greatly value the role of studies in human life. Wise people inherently draw upon the ideas obtained from their studies while solving life’s countless problems. The aim of reading and acquiring knowledge must not be to aggressively refute other’s views or accept the writer’s views as gospel truth. It should also not be to engage in pointless discussion and argumentation. Studying should enable us to weigh facts and analyze them rationally.

Books of varying content and genre are to be made use of differently. Some may be given a cursory reading, some others can be quickly sifted through. Other important books are to be read slowly and minutely so as to truly fathom the meaning and underlying sense.One can ask an assistant to read a book and prepare a short summary of it. But such practice should be followed for obtaining guidance on matters of lesser importance. There are some books which are, in fact, shortened already.

Discussing with others about the contents of a book imparts special practical skills to the reader. Writing removes all the residual weaknesses and ignorance from the person and enables him to remember the contents of a book. So, writing helps to memorize facts. If a person is bashful so as not to discuss his reading with others, he will not be able to improve his wit. If he does not read, he will remain a somewhat stupid person. Studying history makes a man wiser; studying poetry makes a man wittier: mathematics gives sound logical sense, and philosophy imparts valuable lessons on morality.

Wit is a God-given gift. It is present in everybody. However, it can be sharpened by selective studying. This is akin to the way certain weaknesses of the human body are cured by appropriate physical exercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the head; and the like. They cure many ailments.

If a person is unable to concentrate, he will do well to study mathematics to focus his wavering mind. In mathematics, a slight loss of concentration leads to grave error. This makes the man to start all over again to do it. Thus, studying mathematics restrains the mind from darting off elsewhere. If a person does not have the ability to discern, he will be benefited by studying Schoolmen as it trains mental ability and develops the art of expression. If a person is unable to garner facts and manipulate them to put across his views convincingly, studying law will help him. Thus, every deficiency of mind can be addressed by appropriate reading.

****

OF STUDIES — Francis Bacon  (Summary)

Francis Bacon is one of the most interesting figures of the sixteenth century from where the modern world begins. This age is particularly noted for its religion, philosophy and science. He represented the age in his works about its patriotism, high aims and lofty ideals. His earliest and chief interest in life was the reformation of scientific method of approach. He is considered ‘the brightest, wisest and noblest of mankind' and he is known as the father of English Essay and the father of Modern Prose. 

His essays apparently deal with the ethical qualities of men or with the matters pertaining to the government of state. All his essays are full of practical wisdom of life. His style is aphoristic, formal, impersonal and informative. They are full of quotable quotes.

In the present essay Bacon describes advantages of studies. ‘Of Studies’ is one of the most popular essays. Studies give us pleasure, embellish our conversation and argument. It enhances the practical ability of man. Learned men are superior to professional men, as they are better in planning, laying down policies and overall arguments.  Bacon is aware of the fact that through practical experience alone can help the people to learn the right use of books. Different men view at studies differently. Bacon lays down the correct method of study. He quotes:

                   "Reading makeath a full man; conference ready man; and writing an exact man"

 Reading, writing and conversation are all necessary to perfect and develop the powers of man. A study of different subjects carries with it different advantages. Studies also cure mental ailments or defects just as certain sports and physical exercises cure specific physical ailments.

----000----

The Bishop's Candlesticks - Norman Mackinnel

THE BISHOP’S CANDLESTICKS – Norman Mckinnel (one Act Play)

SCENE: (The kitchen of the BISHOP’s cottage. It is plainly but substantially furnished. Doors R. and L. and L. C. Window R.C. Fire place with heavy mantelpiece down R. Oak settee with cushions behind door L.C. Table in window R.C. with writing materials and crucifix (wood). Eight-day clock R. of window. Kitchen dresser with cupboard to lock, down L. Oak dining table R. C. Chairs, Books, etc. Winter wood scene without. On the mantelpiece are two very handsome candlesticks which look strangely out of place with their surroundings.)

(MARIE and PERSOME are discovered. MARIE stirring some soup on the fire. PERSOME laying the cloth, etc.)

PERSOME:      MARIE, why isn’t the soup boiling yet? It ought to be. You haven’t tended the fire properly, child.

MARIE:           But, Madam, you yourself made the fire up.

PERSOME:      Don’t answer me back like that. It is rude.

MARIE:           Yes, Madam

PERSOME:      I wonder where my brother can be. It is after eleven O’clock (looking at the clock) and no sign of him. Marie, did Monseigneur, the Bishop leave any message for me?

MARIE:           No, Madam.

PERSOME:      Did he tell you where he was going?

MARIE:           Yes, Madam.

PERSOME:      “Yes, Madam” (imitating). Then why haven’t you told me, stupid!

MARIE:           Madam didn’t ask me.

PERSOME:      But that is no reason for your not telling me is it?

MARIE:           Madam said only this morning I was not to chatter, so I thought ….

PERSOME:      Ah Mon Dieu, you thought! Ah! It is hopeless.

MARIE:           Yes, Madam.

PERSOME:      Don’t keep saying “Yes, Madam,” like a parrot, Nincompoop. (MARIE nods) Well, where did Monseigneur say he was going?

MARIE:           To my mother’s, Madam. Monseigneur asked me how she was, and I told him she was feeling poorly.

PERSOME:      You told him she was feeling poorly, did you? And so my brother is to be kept out of his bed, and go without his supper because you told him she was feeling poorly. There is gratitude for you!

MARIE:           Madam, the soup is boiling!

PERSOME:      Then pour it out, fool, and don’t chatter. (MARIE about to do so) No, no. Not like that, here let me do it, and do you put the salt cellars on the table the silver ones.

MARIE:           The silver one, madam? They are sold.

PERSOME:      Sold! (with horror) sold? Are you mad? Who sold them? Why were they sold?

MARIE:           Monseigneur the Bishop told me this afternoon while you were out to take them to Monsieur Gervais who has often admired them, and sell them for as much as I could.

PERSOME:      But you had no right to do so without asking me.

MARIE:           But, Madam, Monseigneur the Bishop told me. (with awe)

PESOME:         Monseigneur the Bishop is a – ahem! But, but what can he have wanted with the money!

MARIE:           Pardon, Madam, but I think it was for Mere Gringoire, for the rent. The Bailiff would not wait any longer and threatened to turn her out to-day if it were not paid, so she sent little Jean to Monseigneur to ask for help and ….

PERSOME:      Mere Gringoire indeed. Mere Gringoire! What, the old witch who lives at the top of the hill, and who says she is bedridden because she is too lazy to do any work? Oh Mon Dieu! It is hopeless, hopeless. We shall have nothing left. His estate is sold, his savings have gone, his furniture…. everything. Were it not for my little doubt we should starve, and now my beautiful – beautiful (sobs) salt cellars. Ah, it is too much, too much. (She breaks down crying)

MARIE:           Madam, I am sorry, if I had known—

PERSOME:      Sorry and why, pray? If Monseigneur the Bishop chooses to sell his salt cellars he may do so, I suppose.

MARIE:           Yes, madam, (going towards R.)

(Enter the BISHOP, C.)

BISHOP:          (rubbing his shoulders and brushing snow off them) Ah! It is worth going out in the cold for the sake of the comfort of coming in.

(PERSOME has hastened to help him off with his coat, etc. Marie has dropped a deep courtesy.)

BISHOP:          Thank you, dear; (looking at her) why, what is the matter? You have been crying. Marie’s been troublesome, eh? (glances at Marie and shakes his finger at her). Marie, my child, run home now, your mother is better, I have prayed with her, and the doctor has bee. Run home!         (Marie putting on cloak and going) And, Marie let yourself in quietly in case your mother asleep.

MARIE:           Oh thanks, thanks, Monseigneur.

BISHOP:          Here, Marie, take my comforter, it will keep you warm. It is very cold to-night.

MARIE:           Oh no, Monseigneur! (Shamefacedly)

PERSOME:      What nonsense, brother, she is young, she won’t hurt.

BISHOP:             Ah, PERSOME, you have not been out, you don’t know how cold it has become. Here, Marie, let me put on for you. (does so) There! Run along, little one.

(Exit MARIE, C.)

PERSOME:      Brother, I have no patience with you. There, sit down and take your soup, it has been waiting ever so long. And if it is spoilt, it serves you right.

BISHOP:          It smells delicious.

PERSOME:      I’m sure Marie’s mother is not so ill that you need have stayed out on such a night as this. I believe those people pretend to be ill just to have the Bishop call on them. They have no thought of the Bishop!

BISHOP:          It is kind of them to want to see me.

PERSOME:      Well for my part I believe that charity begins at home.

BISHOP:          And so you make me this delicious soup. You are very good to me, sister. (hangs his head)

PERSOME:      Good to you, yes! I should think so. I should like to know where you would be without me to look after you. The dupe of every idle scamp or lying old woman in the Parish. It is ridiculous; you will soon have nothing left. You give away everything!

BISHOP:          My dear, there is so much suffering in the world, and I can do so little (sighs) so very little.

PERSOME:      Suffering, yes, but you never think of what you cause to those who love you best, the suffering you cause to me.

BISHOP:          (rising) Have I hurt you? You had been crying. Was that my fault? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I am sorry.

PERSOME:      Sorry won’t mend it. Humph! Oh, do go on eating your soup before it gets cold.

BISHOP:          Very well, dear, (sits) but tell me—

PERSOME:      You are like a child; I can’t trust you out of my sight. No sooner is my back turned than you get that little minx Marie to sell the silver salt cellars.

BISHOP:          Ah, yes, the salt cellars. It is a pity. You, you were proud of them?

PERSOME:      They have been in our family for years.

BISHOP:          But one can eat salt out of china just as well.

PERSOME:      Yes, or meat off the floor I suppose. Oh it’s coming to tat. And as for that wretch Gringoire, I wonder she had the audacity to send here again.

BISHOP:          I had actually offered to take her in here for a day or two, but she seemed to think it might distress you. And the bailiff, who is a very just man, would not wait longer for the rent, so you see I had to pay it.

PERSOME:      You had to pay it. (gesture of comic despair.)

BISHOP:          Yes, and you see I had no money so I had to dispose of the salt cellars. It was fortunate I had them, wasn’t it? (smiling) But, I’m sorry I have grieved you.

PERSOME:      Oh, go on! You are incorrigible. You’ll sell your candlesticks next.

BISHOP:          (with real concern) No, no, sister, not my candlesticks.

PERSOME:      Oh! Why not? They would pay somebody’s rent I suppose.

BISHOP:          Ah, you are good, sister, to think of that, but— but I don’t want to sell them. You see, dear, my mother gave them to me on her deathbed just after you were born, and she asked me to keep them in remembrance of her, so I would like to keep them. But perhaps it is a sin to set such store by them?

PERSOME:      Brother, brother, you will break my heart (with tears in her voice). There! Don’t say anything more. Kiss me and give me your blessing. I’m going to bed. (they kiss)

BISHOP:          (making sign of the cross and murmuring blessing)

PERSOME:      (locks cupboard door and goes.) Don’t sit up too long and tire your eyes.

BISHOP:          No, dear. Good night!

(PERSOME Exits R.)

BISHOP:          (comes to table and opens a book then looks up at the candlesticks) they would pay somebody’s rent. It was kind of her to think of that.

(He stirs the fire, trims the lamp, arranges some books and papers, sits down, is restless, shivers slightly, clock outside strikes twelve and he settles to read. Music during this. Enter the CONVICT stealthily, he has a long knife and seizes the Bishop from behind.)

CONVICT:       If you call out you are a dead man!

BISHOP:          But, my friend, as you see, I’m reading. Why should I call out? Can I help you in any way?

CONVICT:       (hoarsely) I want food. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything for three days. Give me food quickly, quickly, curse you.

BISHOP:          (eagerly) But certainly, my son, you shall have food. I will ask my sister for the keys of the cupboard, (rising)

CONVICT:       Sit down! (The BISHOP sits, smilingly) None of that, my friend! I’m too old a bird to be caught with chaff. You would ask your sister for the keys, would you? You would rouse the house too. Eh? Ha! Ha! (pause) come, where is the food? I want no keys. I have a wolf inside me tearing at my entrails, tearing me; quick, tell me where the food is.

BISHOP:          (aside) I wish PERSOME would not lock the cupboard. (aloud) come, my friend, you have nothing to fear. My sister and I are alone here.

CONVICT:       How do I know that?

BISHOP:          why I have just told you.

(CONVICT looks long at the BISHOP.)

CONVICT:       Humph! I’ll risk it.(BISHOP, going to door.) But mind! Play me false and as sure as there are devils in Hell I’ll drive my knife through your heart. I have nothing to lose.

BISHOP:          You have your soul to lose, my son; it is of more value than my heart. (at door R. calling) PERSOME, PERSOME. (The CONVICT stands behind him with his knife ready.)

PERSOME:      (within) Yes, Brother.

BISHOP:          Here is a poor traveler who is hungry. If you are not undressed will you come and open the cupboard and I will give him some supper.

PERSOME:      (within) What, at this time of night? A pretty business truly. Are we to have no sleep now?

BISHOP:          But, PERSOME, the traveler is hungry.

PERSOME:      Oh, very well, I am coming. (PERSOME Enters R., she sees the knife in the CONVICT’s hand) (frightened) Brother, what is he doing with that knife?

BISHOP:          The Knife, oh, well, you see, dear, perhaps he may have thought that I had sold ours. (laughs gently)

PERSOME:      Brother, I am frightened. He glares at us like a wild beast. (aside to him)

CONVICT:       Hurry, I tell you. Give me food or I’ll stick my knife in you both and help myself.

BISHOP:          Give me the keys, PERSOME, (she gives them to him) and now, dear, you may go to bed. (PERSOME going. The CONVICT springs in front of her.)

CONVICT:      Stop! Neither of you leave this room till I do. (She looks at the BISHOP.)

BISHOP:          PERSOME, will you favour this gentleman with your company at supper. He evidently desires it.

PERSOME:      very well, brother, (she sits down at table staring at the two)

BISHOP:          Here is some cold pie and a bottle of wine and some bread.

CONVICT:       Put them on the table, and stand below it so that I can see you.

(BISHOP does so and opens drawer in table taking out knife and fork, looking at the knife in convict’s hand.)

CONVICT:       My Knife is sharp, (he runs his finger along the edge and looks at them meaningfully) and as for forks (taking it up) Steel! (he throws it away) we don’t use forks in Prison.

PERSOME:      Prison.

CONVICT:       (cutting off an enormous slice, which he tears with his fingers like an animal. Then starts) What was that? (he looks at the door) Why the devil do you leave the window unshuttered and the door unbarred, so that anyone can come in? (shutting them)

BISHOP:          That is why they are left open.

CONVICT:      Well they are shut now!

(CONVICT eats voraciously and throws a bone on the floor. Bishop picks up the bone and puts it on plate.)

CONVICT:       You’re not afraid of thieves?

BISHOP:          I am sorry for them.

CONVICT:       Sorry for them. Ha! Ha! Ha! (drinks from bottle) that’s a good one. Sorry for them. Ha! Ha! Ha! (drinks suddenly) what the devil are you?

BISHOP:          I am a Bishop.

CONVICT:       Ha! Ha! Ha! A Bishop. Holy Virgin, a Bishop.

BISHOP:          PERSOME, you may leave us, this gentleman will excuse you.

PERSOME:      Leave you with— (glares at BISHOP)

BISHOP:          Please! My friend and I can talk more freely then. (by this time, owing to his starving condition the wine has affected him.)

CONVICT:       What’s that? Leave us. Yes, yes, leave us. Good night. I want to talk to the Bishop. The Bishop.  Ha! Ha! Ha! (laughs as he drinks and coughs)

BISHOP:          Good night, PERSOME. (he holds the door-open and she goes out R. holding in her skirts as she passes the CONVICT)

CONVICT:       (chuckling to himself) The BISHOP. Ha! Ha! (suddenly very loudly) D’ you know what I am?

BISHOP:          I think one who suffered much.

CONVICT:       Suffered? (puzzled) suffered? My God, yes. (drinks) but that was when I was a man. Now I’m not a man; now I’m a number: number 15729 and I’ve lived in Hell for ten years.

BISHOP:          Tell me about it-about Hell.

CONVICT:       Why? (suspiciously) do you want to tell the police to set them on my track?

BISHOP:          No! I will not tell the police.

CONVICT:       But – It’s so long ago I forget – but I had a little cottage, there were vines growing on it (dreamily) they looked pretty with the evening sun on them and, and there was a woman. She was…. (thinking hard) she must have been my wife – yeas. (suddenly and veryrapidly) yes, I remember! She was ill, we had no food, I could get no work, it was a bad year, and my wife, my Jeanette was ill, dying (pauses) so I stole to buy her food. (long pause the Bishop gently pats his hand) They caught me. I pleaded to them, I told them why I stole but they laughed at me, and I was sentenced to ten years in the prison hulks. (pause) ten years in Hell. The night I was sentenced the gaoler told me Jeanette was dead, (sobs, with fury) Ah, damn them, damn them. God curse them all (he sinks on the tablesobbing).

BISHOP:          Now tell me about the prison ship, about Hell.

CONVICT:       Tell you about it? Look here, I was a man once. I’m a beast now and they made me what I am. They chained me up and lashed me. I fed on filth, I was covered with vermin, I slept on boards and I complained. Then they lashed me again. For ten years, ten years. Oh God! They took away my name, they took away my soul and they gave me a devil in its place. But one day they were careless-forget to chain up their wild beast and he escaped. He was free. That was six weeks ago. I was free, free to starve. They feed you in Hell, but when you escape from it you starve. They were hunting me everywhere and I had no passport, no name. So I stole again, I stole these rags, I stole my food daily, I slept in the woods, in barns, anywhere. I dare not ask for work, I dare not go into a town to beg, so I stole and they have made me what I am, they have made me a thief. God curse them all. (Empties the bottle and throws it into the fireplace R. smashing it.)

BISHOP:          My son, you have suffered much but there is hope for all.

CONVICT:       Hope! Hope! Ha! Ha! Ha! (loughs wildly)

BISHOP:          You are tired. Lie down and sleep on the couch there and I will get you some coverings.

CONVICT:      And if any one comes?

BISHOP:          No one will come, but if they do, are you not my friend?

CONVICT:       your friend? (puzzled) the Bishop’s friend. (scratching his head utterly puzzled)

BISHOP:          I will get you the coverings. (Exit L.)

CONVICT:       (looks after him, scratches his head) the Bishop’s friend! (He goes to fire to warm himself and notices the candlesticks. He looks round to see if he is alone and takes them down, weighing them.) Silver, my God, and heavy. What a prize! (He hears the BISHOP coming and in his haste drops one candlestick on the table)

(Enter the BISHOP)

BISHOP:          (sees what is going on but goes to the settle up L. with coverings)Ah, you are admiring my candle sticks. I am proud of them. They were a gift from my mother. A little too handsome for this poor cottage perhaps, but all I have to remind me of her. Your bed is ready. Will you lie down now?

CONVICT:       yes, yes, I’ll lie down now. (puzzled) look here, why the devil are you ki-kind to me. (suspiciously) what do you want? Do you want to convert me? I don’t want any damned religion, and as for the Church, bah! I hate the Church.

BISHOP:          That is a pity, my son, as the Church does not hate you.

CONVICT:       Oh, Ha! Ha! It’s a good idea, but I don’t want any of your Faith, Hope and Charity, see? So anything you do for me you’re doing to the devil, understand? (defiantly)

BISHOP:          One must do a great deal for the devil in order to do a little for God.

CONVICT:       (angrily) I don’t want any damned religion, I tell you.

BISHOP:          Won’t you lie down now, it is late.

CONVICT:       (grumbling) Well all right, but I won’t be preached at, I – I – (on couch). You’re sure no one will come?

BISHOP:          I don’t think they will, but if they do – you yourself have locked the door.

CONVICT:       Hump! I wonder if it’s safe, (he goes to the door and tries it, then turns and sees the BISHOP holding the covering, annoyed) here! You go to bed. I’ll cover myself (the BISHOP hesitates) Go on, I tell you.

BISHOP:          Good night, my son. (Exit L.)

(CONVICT waits till he is off then tries the BISHOP’s door.)

CONVICT:       No lock of course. Curse it. (looks round and sees the candlesticks again) Humph! I’ll have another look at them (he takes them up and toys with them) worth hundreds I’ll warrant. If I had these turned into money they’d start me fair. Humph! Old boy’s fond of them too, said his mother gave them. His mother, yes. They didn’t think of my mother when they sent me to Hell. He was kind to me too but what’s a Bishop for except to be kind to you. Here, cheer up, my heart, you’re getting soft. God I wouldn’t my chain mates laugh to see 15729 hesitating about collaring the plunder because he felt good. Good! Ha! Ha! Oh my God! Good! Ha! Ha! 15729 getting soft. That’s a good one. Ha! Ha! No, I’ll take his candlesticks and go, if I stay here he’ll preach at me in the morning and I’ll get soft. Damn him and his preaching too.  Here goes! (he takes the candlesticks, stows them in his coat and cautiously exits L. C. as he does so the door slams.)

PERSOME:      (without) who’s there? Who’s there? I say? Am I to get no sleep tonight? Who’s there, I say? (Enter R. PERSOME) I’m sure I hear the door shut (looking round) No one here? (Knocks at the BISHOP’s door. Sees the candlesticks have gone) the candlesticks, the candlesticks. They are gone. Brother, come out. Fire, murder, thieves!

(EnterBISHOP, L.)

BISHOP:          What is it? Dear, what is it? What is the matter?

PERSOME:      He has gone. The man with the hungry eyes has gone, and he has taken your candlesticks.

BISHOP:          Not my candlesticks, sister, surely not those (he looks and sighs) Ah that is hard, very hard, I – I – he might have left me those. They were all I had. (Almost breaking down.) But it was my fault. I led him into temptation.

PERSOME:      Oh nonsense! Led him into temptation indeed! The man is a thief, a common scoundrel thief. I knew it the moment I saw him. Go and inform the police or I will. (Going but he stops her)

BISHOP:          And have him sent back to prison – (very softly) sent back to Hell! No, PERSOME. It is a just punishment for me; I set too great store by them. It was a sin. My punishment is just but, oh God, it is hard, it is very hard. (He buries his head in his hands.)

PERSOME:      No, brother, you are wrong. If you won’t tell the police I will. I will not stand by and see you robbed. You are a fool, a child, I tell you, and I will not have your goodness abused. I shall go and inform the police. (going)

BISHOP:          Stop, PERSOME. The candlesticks were mine, they are his now. It is better so, He has more need of them than I. My mother would have wished it so had she been here.

PERSOME:      But – (great knocking without).

SERGENT:       (without) Monseigneur, Monseigneur, we have something for you, may we enter?

BISHOP:          Enter, my son.

(Enter SERGENT and three GENDARMES with CONVICT bound. The SERGENT carries the candlesticks)

PERSOME:      Ah, so they have caught you, villain, have they?

SERGENT:       Yes, madam, we found this scoundrel slinking along the road, and as he wouldn’t give any account of himself we arrested him on suspicion. Holy virgin, isn’t he strong and didn’t he struggle? While we were securing him these candlesticks fell out of his pockets.

(PERSOME seizes them, goes to table and brushes them with her apron lovingly)

I remembered the candlesticks of Monseigneur the BISHOP, so we brought him here that you might identify them and then we’ll lock him up. (The BISHOP and the CONVICT have been looking at each other. The CONVICT with dogged defiance.)

BISHOP:          But, but I don’t understand, this gentleman is my very good friend.

SERGENT:       Your friend, Monseigneur! Holy Virgin! Well!!!

BISHOP:          Yes, my friend, he did me the honour to sup with me tonight and I – I have given him the candlesticks.

SERGENT:       (incredulously) You gave him your candlesticks? Holy Virgin!

BISHOP:          I have told you he is my friend.

SERGENT:       Yes, that’s all very well, but he won’t show me his papers, he won’t tell me who he is.

BISHOP:          He is your Bishop’s friend, surely that is enough.

SERGENT:       Well, but –

BISHOP:          Surely?

(A pause. The SERGENT and the BISHOP look at each other.)

SERGENT:       I – I – Humph! (to his men) :Loose the prisoner. (they do so) right about turn, quick march! (Exit SERGENT and GENDARMES. A long pause.)

CONVICT:       (very slowly as if in a dream) You told them you had given me the candlesticks, given me them. By God!

PERSOME:      (shaking her fist at his and hugging the candlesticks to her breast) Oh you scoundrel, you pitiful scoundrel, you come here and are fed and warmed, and … and you thief; steal from your benefactor. Oh you blackguard.

BISHOP:          PERSOME, you are overwrought, Go to your room.

PERSOME:      What, and leave you with him to be cheated again, perhaps murdered. No, I will not. (She looks hard at him then turns towards the door.) Well, if I must go at least I’ll take the candlesticks with me.

BISHOP:          (more severely) PERSOME, place the candlesticks on that table and leave us.

PERSOME:      (defiantly) I will not!

BISHOP:          (loudly and with great severity) I, your Bishop, command it.

(PERSOME does so with great reluctance and Exits R.)

CONVICT:       (shamefacedly) Monseigneur, I’m glad I didn’t get away with them, curse me, I am. I’m glad.

BISHOP:          Now won’t you sleep here, see your bed is ready.

CONVICT:       (looking at the candlesticks) No! No, I … I daren’t, I daren’t. Besides I must go on, I must get to Paris, it is big, and I – I can be lost there. They won’t find me there and I must travel at night, do you understand?

(BISHOP nods)

CONVICT:       I – I didn’t believe there was any good in the world. One doesn’t when one has been in Hell; but somehow I – I know you’re good-but could you, would you bless me before I go? I – I think it would help me. I – (hangs his head very shamefacedly)

BISHOP:          (Makes sign of the cross and murmurs blessing)

CONVICT:       (tries to speak: a sob almost chokes him). Good night. (he hurries towards the door)

BISHOP:          Stay, my son, you have forgotten your property (giving him the candlesticks).

(the CONVICT takes the candlesticks in absolute amazement.)

BISHOP:          And, my son. There is a path through the woods at the back of this cottage which leads to Paris; it is a very lonely path, and I have noticed that my good friends the Gendarmes do not like lonely paths at night. It is curious.

CONVICT:       ah, thanks, thanks, Monseigneur. I – I – (he sobs) Ah! I’m a fool, a child to cry, but somehow you have made me feel that – that it is just as if something had come into me – as if I were a man again and not a wild beast. (the door at back is open and the CONVICT is standing in it.)

BISHOP:          (Putting his hand on his shoulder.) Always remember, my son, that this poor body is the Temple of the Living God.

CONVICT:       (with great awe). THE Temple of the Living God. I’ll remember. (Exit L. C.)

(The BISHOP closes the door and goes quietly to the prie-dieu in the window R., he sinks on his knees, and bows his head in prayer.)

SLOW CURTAIN

* * * *

The Bishop’s Candlesticks – Norman McKinnel (III Semester) Additional English

The play 'The Bishop’s Candlesticks' opens with a scene in the Bishop’s kitchen. Bishop’s younger sister Persome and maid servant Marie are busy in conversation, while soup is being cooked on the stove. Persome is worried that her brother has gone out in extreme cold. When she learns that her brother has gone to see Marie’s mother, she bursts out in anger at the selfishness of the people, who went about troubling him. Persome’s anger is genuine because her brother has already sold off his estate, furniture and other valuables to help the poor and the needy. Persome is shocked to discover further that the Bishop has even sold off his silver-cellars to help another ailing lady to pay her rent. 

The Bishop promptly arrives and dispatches Marie to tend her mother. He gives away his comforter to her to ward off the cold outside. Persome gets very furious and says, “You’ll sell your candlesticks next.”  The Bishop thanks for her giving him the idea, although he admits that the candlesticks were his proud possessions, a gift from his dying mother and he would not like to part with them.

Persome takes leave and the Bishop settles down to read. It is already midnight. A Convict enters from the room stealthily, seizes the Bishop from behind and demands something to eat. He threatens to kill the Bishop if he raises an alarm. The Bishop is unflustered. He calls the Convict ‘son’ and wakes his sister to serve some food and wine to the Convict. He also calms down Persome, who was frightened to see the knife in the Convict’s hand.

The convict pounces on the food greedily. After eating, the Convict warms up and relates his sad story to the Bishop. He tells the Bishop that he was once a normal man. He had a wife and a home but no work, so stole to feed his sick wife. He was chained like an animal and beaten mercilessly and fed on filth. The Bishop consoles him and arranges for him to rest there for the night.

The next morning Persome finds that the Convict and the silver candlesticks are missing. She raises an alarm and informs the Bishop about the theft. The Bishop is upset but he refuses to report to the police.   

Soon a sergeant appears with two soldiers and the Convict in chains. They had arrested the Convict on the suspicion of stealing the Bishop’s Candlesticks. The Bishop tells the police that the Convict was his friend and he had gifted the candlesticks to him. The police free the Convict and allow him to go away. The Convict is wonderstruck by such kindness. He promises to reform himself and begin his life anew. The Bishop blesses him and gifts the candlesticks to him. He shows him a secret path to Paris, where the Convict could lead safe and respectable life.    

*****