Nous nous reverrons, nest-ce pas ? (MT.ROMAN) (French Edition)

There was a crocodile that was basking in the sun and many wild duck. The reflection of the domes on the water was quite pretty, but all this is quite unkempt and is much better in photographs that in its natural state. The Ameer Palace is on the side of a mountain, The Maharaja only comes here on special occasions and the place is somewhat abandoned, there are many nooks and crannies, the corridors and the Kabar-Mahal in marble, rooms with accoutrements of glass and pieces of bright steel surrounded by decorations of flowers, these rooms are supported by columns with the base in sculpted marble and there are reliefs of vases of flowers on the white walls, the Zenana was pretty with open work on some large area of stone.

In the afternoon we went to the School of Arts which is a place where they teach design, painting, sculpture and pottery as well as working in bronze. Children were set to copying quite complicated designs. One group was set the task of sculpting the god Mahdeo, made of white marble lying on his back with a collar of heads round his neck, while another god, The Destroyer, made from black marble with six arms, stands on his body.

At the entrance there were well made statues made from plaster. Upstairs we saw them engraving on bronze. They coat the object in lime and trace with a pencil what has to be done on it and then they scrape it with an engravers point; it is very easy to make all these things in bronze. At the far end there is a shop where all these objects are for sale. There were some fine trays in copper with wooden legs for serving tea, very fine paintings of elephant or horses entangled with women in oriental dress.

It is extraordinary how many pigeons there are in town. They all come on to the main square where they are fed with grain. Jaypoore is a town of peacocks, there is a lot of them and they make a hell of a racket at night. One sees in the streets lines of dromedaries carrying provisions; they have a rope through a hole in the nose which is attached to the tail of the one in front. There are also quite a few elephant that walk majestically with bells around their necks. We came across a panther with a hood over its head, led by a man.

We are very badly set up here in an annex; all the rooms in the main building have been taken by civil servants, who live here, as well as travellers. We called at all the hotels and could find only this one. One of the hotel staff, of mixed race, offered to be our guide, he is called Collins and says he is a nephew of the tax collector who was in Delhi at the time of the revolt.

After dinner we witnessed the Mohammedans doing some very interesting turns, amongst others swallowing swords and extracting stones, string etc. Our first visit was to an old garden belonging to the Rajah of Delhi where the guide showed us the spot where Colonel Nicholson conducted himself so bravely in sustaining fire from a breach that the English had made in the wall, and where they wished to infiltrate into the town. The Colonel was at the forefront of his men, they went down into the ravine and with the aid of a ladder they climbed up the ramp and entered the fort, from there they marched to the main gate which they took and the troops were able to enter the town.

The Colonel was killed on the road that follows the walls. These walls are made of very hard rock, very difficult to breach.. In this garden is a mosque in which The king came to pray, it is riddled with bullets and the dome is pieced. The hotel we are in is the residence of Governor Athquit[xiv] who was massacred before the war[xv].

The place is called Ludlow Palace. On the day of The Revolt all the British living in the town were massacred in a barbarous manner by their own servants, the last ones left wished to flee by scaling the walls. They were surprised by Indians in the school yard; there was a pond to get across and as they were unable to leave the women behind they tried to cross the pond with them, they lost time and were killed.

In the town where the Post Office is was a powder store which was defended by nine Englishmen, the kept to their post for four hours, and the last had no option but o to blow it up, they rebuilt it on the same spot, above the entrance door is a plaque that tells of what happened here. At the entrance to the town there is also a marble plaque between the two gates, on which are the names of those killed and wounded.

It is all in white marble , there is the throne room, the Zenana, the bath rooms, all this with circular verandas with columns, and entirely of marble from top to bottom with all sorts of encrustations as we;; as gilding. The encrustations were of precious stones, and it was all built by an Italian. During the war the Indians took out all the precious stones of which we now, only see traces; and the English, for the sake of the appearance of the building have replaced them with painted plaster.

The palace gives onto the Jumna and the countryside, and there is no wall on that side. There are only cannons in the sub-basement wall. At the side of the palace there is the mosque, also entirely of white marble. As he had not been the main agent of the revolt and had taken no part in it, they sent him to finish his days in Rangoon where he passed his days pleasantly with enough money and all his comforts.

The two sons who had taken an active part in the revolt were killed by Captain Hutson. This is how the most powerful Indian King, to whom other Kings came to give homage, came to finish his days.

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His throne is chassed into the wall about eight feet up and is made of marble. Against the wall there are settings of precious stones representing parrots and other birds. Generally the Hindus are a quieter and more faithful race toward the English than the Muslim, but they are less advanced than they. We went to see the Cathedral outside the town walls. This church which is a massive building with a central dome was built by Colonel Spinna who gave it to the town. A commemorative plaque had been made and placed at ground level in front of the alter and all over the walls are inscriptions on marble dedicated to people who had been massacred during the war.

On some of the plaques one can see a whole series of names of whole families that were killed at the same time. The Juna Masjid, one of the largest mosques in India, is built on a hillock opposite the fort and near the civil hospital, one goes up a large step in the east and west; all around there is a big gallery and row of main alters set quite high, there is a big dome at the centre of two.

The rooms have squares denoted so that each person should have a designated space is which to pray and standing should be shoulder to shoulder with the next man, the faithful stay in rank to prostrate themselves in the direction of Mecca. From there to Askar Pillar, which is very old, before J. I crossed the road with a Bishop and his secretary that we had met in Jeypoore and here. Delhi is a large town and there is a lot of movement. We visited a boutique where they made minute objects in ivory, and they paint landscaped and figures on ivory, very beautiful carpets and embroideries.

At the entrance to the town near Cashmere Gate there is a big square planted with grass divided into squares, bordered by large trees, principly mins, a tree with a yellowish leaf. The Sikhs soldiers are very fine men, they wear beards and have.

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The population is for the most part Muslim, they. Leaving Delhi it stays in sight from some distance. The next day after lunch we visited Ktub Minhar about 11 miles from the town. We passed through Lahore Gate out of town and got out to follow the wall to see an inscription dedicated to Colonel Nicholson marking the spot where he had both legs shot from under him by the enemy as he advanced to take a cannon. On this ancient wall one can walk and do a complete circuit of the town.

Along the way we stopped to see the tomb of Sadar Jung, prime minister of the Mogul King, which was his home before his burial. On the road we met people from Kashmir wrapped in their bed covers padded with cotton, their teapots and other household utensils tied round their waists; they had come to sell their furs in Delhi and were returning. They have a sort of Chinese look not altogether pure, and spoke only Hindustanni, there were women among them, they travelled on foot..

We travelled through a countryside made up of tombs, buildings with individual domes some way one form another, containing the remains of the princes of royal blood, all this countryside is only ruins of ancient towns and forts, within some of the old walls the natives have built their huts, in one of the tombs, built on a raised platform they had built a police station near Ktub.

In these little villages where the houses are built with walls made of dung the women collect the cows dung which is produced in quantity because of the numbers of these animals and against all the walls are piled up cowpats which are used instead of firewood, the heat is slow and intense and is much cheaper than firewood.

We came across quite a few green parrots, owl eagles and blue parrakeets. In this region they plant rye, gram, cotton, rape a plant with a yellow flower that cheers up the countryside at Ktub Minhar we had tiffin at the State bungalow where they gave us fresh boiled rice and a good curry on the veranda of the hotel which is separated into two buildings made of masonry covered in thatch. There we met the Bishop we had seen in Madras, an Italian who travels with a little seminarist and whom we had met later in Agra, a character with a long beard.

The Ktub Minhar is an immense minaret which rises four stores made of sandstone with mouldings along its length and Arabic inscriptions all around, on each floor there is a circular balcony which that follows the walls of the building and which one gets to by climbing steps. At the summit there is a cupola that had been turned upside down by a thunder ball and that had been set up again and placed to one side on a heap of stones.

From the top of this building on takes in a immense area of country and one can see the Jumma on the other side of Delhi, it has a welcome cool day, with a small breeze. From the top of this tower the Queen who could not go to the river to wash away her sins in the sacred river could say her prayers while looking upon the Jumna. The good woman belonged to the noble class of Hindu and did not go to the river because it was dangerous to travel in the countryside.

At the base of this minaret there were the ruins of a Hindu pagoda with marvellous drawings and sculptures, but they are in red stone and are in a poor state. On the other side is the tomb of a Muslim priest-saint in marble chiselled in relief all around and above[xvii] and to one side a huge entrance door to the square set with incrustations on red stone. This area was owned by Hindus originally and latterly a place for the Mohammedans who conquered the territory and who covered the place in all these inscriptions from the Koran.

A little further we saw some fellows jump from a great height into a well down which we could go by a long series of steps. One saw them jumping from above, through holes made in the wall, the height was more or less 50 to 60 feet and they followed one after the other. To one side are the tombs of the ancient Kings and their Ministers, an area surrounded by lattice work marble walls. It is a magnificent building raised from the ground, with a big square in front, a huge hall in the centre, a second story and rooms in the corners. The central room where Humayan and his wife are buried is a single hall with windows at first floor level.

The town is entirely Chinese, large multi-storied houses with writing of all sorts, flowers , orange trees, in pots at the window, bearing fruit. In the middle of the garden on either side of a long pond there is a monument representing the Taj, which are joined by a semi circular bridge. Leupin dans Fiction et Incarnation. Two weeks later after the call, analysts — true to the pattern — meekly agreed that such a phone call was hardly incendiary. Un retour des nationalismes.

It is on the banks of the Jumna, there is a surrounding wall and a garden.. Returning to the town we passed the old fort of Delhi where there is a mosque, a very large entrance gate which is at the top of the slope with high walls. It is here that Humayan died, thrown off a balcony. We entered the town by the Delhi-Gate and went by the district where I had a Turkish bath with massage, it was delightful.

In a large closed and heated room black men throw hot water over you and pummel you in all directions, then they spay you with cold water then icy water, you then return to the room where you undressed, which is covered in mats, you cover yourself well and go back by car all nice and warm; there were seven or eight of us in the room which is paved in marble and provided with pools of hot water on the wall opposite the door, and a cold shower below.

While we there a Bishop, from one of the southern provinces, came in and an Italian with a big beard. I dined at Aligarh in an hotel owned by a company that also does business in Toondla; the room was quite large and kept going by the English, we waited 20 minutes and my two companions left and were replaced by a man with a big beard who made himself very comfortable for the night, I lit my cigarette and went to sleep still fully dressed and telling them to wake me at Toondla, but they did nothing, and they cared little to see me onto the opposite platform.

I changed into a compartment with three couchettes on either side and I did the rest of the journey with two gentlemen and an old lady who wore glasses. We disembarked at Agra fort and a big Mohammedan came to meet me and told me that my friends had arrived at the Nothbrook. This hotel is rather badly run the kitchens poor and the beds really bad, the room that I have is big and commodious, there is quite a difference from the room in the Empress Hotel in Delhi. Our three rooms are adjoining and at the end of corridor attached to the house. The Duke of Cambridge, his wife and his retinue were here when I arrived and went yesterday.

This gentleman is short and limps badly, he wears a black moustache and a big straw hat, his wife is charming. I was delighted to see my friends again and the first thing that Durfort asked me is what I had paid our guide Stains in Delhi. He had had a bit of an argument with him when they left; the man had refused to accept Rs6. This last building is really great, one enters by means of an ornate door with Mogul style cupolas above, the steps are high and the peristyle is very well done, the interior is all in marble as are the domes, the two big cupolas and the series of smaller ones in front, at the far end, the ceiling, the paving stones and the 54 columns and the small row in front are made of marble as well as the interior courtyard, and the pool at the centre of it all, and all this in the very best of taste.

The chateau is close by, at the entrance there is the Diwan-i-Kass or the public audience chamber in sandstone and marble with the throne at the at the far end on a platform that gives onto the castle itself, the frontage is encircled by old cannons set on rows in gun-ports. From there we went to the Aurungzib Palace, the father of Shah Jehan and we visited the apartments of his Hindu wife, this emperor had one Hindu, one Christian and one Mohammedan.

The apartment of his Hindu wife is in the same style in red sandstone. From there we saw a series of rooms and then went up to the Zenana. On the ground floor there are also the baths, which are dull; the ceiling is set with mirrored glass. The effect of torch-light was magical. Aurunzib came here to see his wives bathe. At the door we saw paintings on ivory, glass covered medallions showing the royal family, Shah Jehan and Taj Mahal his wife, Ackbar, Aurungzib, Humayan, and their wives etc.

The Palace is on the banks and in front of the Taj which is further along the same bank following the river bend. The gallery then gives on a yard where the king watched gymkhanas and elephant fights. Then there was the private audience chamber before which there is a balcony with fine marble columns, from which the women would fish in a pool in the yard which was filled in latter; before this there is a little marble and sandstone mosque beside which is a dungeon where Shah Jehan was held prisoner by his son. Leaving the fort we crossed the Jumna on a temporary bridge supported on old generators; to cross one had to pay half a rupee we then through a village to arrive at the tomb, a charming little monument in pierced marble composed of a square on which there was a smaller one decorated with cupolas, and towers with cupolas on top at the four corners.

Both the exterior and the interior were inset with stones and painted with Arabic script the surroundings having lovely gardens planted with mandarin, tamarind and other trees. In the afternoon we went to visit the Taj which is a mile from the hotel, to get there one goes along a very wide road bordered by mins that tree with the yellowish leaf again with bungalows painted pink and roofed with thatch, and squares surrounded by large lawns, with a few trees planted at some distance from each other with bougainvilleas and other flowering vines..

Edgar de Chazal

Near the entrance are planted areas surrounded by mud walls with grey earth looking like sand, an old cemetery and a little village, having shops where they sold fashioned and inset objects, in marble. One enters by a double doorway, the outer door is perpendicular and is the principle door. This last door is charming. The little porticos on the side are painted in small squares imitating masonry, and give a pretty effect.

The top is square and covered with eleven little cupolas in white marble front and back and four larger ones at the corners. On goes up by a labyrinth of rooms more or less black this brings one to a gallery above the main gate. The glimpse of the gate is magnificent, the Taj is certainly the most beautiful building I have ever seen, it is built entirely of white marble from the foundations to the highest part, and is of a purity and finish that defies description. One arrives between a double row of straight cypress trees with flowers and grass planted beneath arranged in geometric patterns with a long row of taps for the water jets and a pool of water in the middle three feet above ground level, and animated by man goldfish and water- plants,on each side cypress trees and crossing a lovely garden there are large wide pavements..

The garden is planted with trees of all sorts, grenadine trees, American Gourd trees, roses and big trees that come together in arches through wich one sees the sky in the distance and the Jumna. All this is well kept and swept clean, there are flowers that permeate the air with scent and one feels the peace and tranquillity. On an immense terrace onto which one gets by a covered step is placed ajewel of endeavour. From afar the big entry gate with its semicircular arch carved in different facets and the two doorsat the end one above the other, worked in lattice-work gives a marvellous effect.

The building is octagonal with minarets on the tops of the square doors, ahuge dome in the middle surrounded by four cupolas. On the four sides the is an immense tower in white marble the blocks of which are joined by black marble. The interior is an immense marble dome cut in different facets, and in the centre of this large hall surrounded by an octagonal barrier in old polished marble of great beauty pierced to show a tracery of flowers of all sorts with a surround of poppies and other flowers, is the tomb of the Palace Beauty, Star of India, the adored wife of Shah Jehan the most powerful Mogul monarch..

On his coffin, laid in black marble are the 99 attributes of God and the base is incised with flowers of all manner of coloured stone. Beside her is buried the King and his tomb is equally well decorated. We returned to the Taj yesterday afternoon and we will go back this evening to see the fountains. One can only stand and stare at this magnificent work of art that cost millions of rupees, more than 30 million were spent by the Kingto build a palace beautiful enough to contain the mortal remains of his adored wife, he was a happy man, he had loved, he had been loved and they lie here in peace.

His wife died in in childbirth with their eigth child, the king then started to build this tomb which was only finished seven years after. From the balcony in his palace in the fort he saw the monument being built.. From the terrace of the Taj one sees the palace in front and below there is a long terrace, in red gravel flecked with white marblewich gives a very pretty effect seen from different angles. At the bottom is the Jumna which flows out of sight like a huge snake. The banks are planted simply with cereals and the water is ruffled, with a strong current.

In the gardens of the Taj are men with crossbows which fire balls of hardened mud, they chase off birds of prey, this place is a haven of peace and these birds are not allowed to tarry. Yesterday morning we went to visit the tomb of Ackbar at Secundrah. At the entrance is a majestic portico inlaid with different coloured marble, a huge balustrade with inlay on the slant all around, and many slabs with different designs here and here. There is a long avenue bordered by orange trees that lead to the tomb and at the four points of the compass there is a gate and a walkways that converge.

This tomb is made up of an immense square with a terrace in the centre on which there are smaller ones with columns in the Chinese style. In the entrance hall which is bordered by marble cut with flowers, they have repainted a potion of the ceiling in arabesques bordered in gold.

It is beautiful work that must have cost a lot.

The Government has done this in one small corner to give the tourist an idea how things were but they can hardly be pleased to spend the money, they only do what is necessary for the upkeep of the place, All the domes and cupolas are in white painted marble. The Tomb of the great Ackbar is in a darkened room at the end, with a big dome in which there is quite a good echo. In the adjoining rooms are buried the begums and other members of the royal family. The surroundings of Agra and well cultivated. On gets there along a nice lane bordered by clumps of large trees, there are wells over which are wooden frames out of which water is drawn by oxen that work on an incline.

Across the country there is an immensely wide canal which goes off into the distance and which is bordered by trees, it was cool and the travelling was very pleasant, we did not go to Fatepoor Sikai which is eighteen miles from here, it was too far away, Muttra, a Hindu village, is even further. Fateppor is an area of tombs; we had seen some good ones here and no real wish to see more. My two friends had gone to mass this morning and I was on my own here, yesterday we went to visit the archbishop and he returned the visit to the hotel, he lives close to the church or cathedral which is a good looking building with a high steeple and on the frontage marble statues placed in niches with a blue background..

From there we crossed the Public Garden and got out at a local shop where we saw them making embroidered cloth of gold braid on silk, then returned to the hotel for lunch. We then took the twenty past midday train for Cawnpore The station is a stone building covered in slate with two little square with decorative forged iron borders. We continued to see the Taj from the next station down the line with its minarets rising from the terrace. From the bridge that crosses the Jumna the palace with its balcony on the river is very beautiful. The countryside is always the same, quite monotonous.

Yesterday afternoon after having revisited the Jahangir Magal we went back to the Taj to have a last glance and see the water jets that are nothing very much but the toilets were good and there were heaps of people, elegant Muslim women with veils over their heads and their pantaloons, the men with gloves on, the women with their slim restricted waists. We were able to arrange to see the Nantch-girls or dancers.

We are here since yesterday evening; we dined as soon as we alighted, at the station, in a big room well decorated with pyramids of tea packets, huge bottles on the bar, and five clocks giving the time in different places. After dinner we walked to The Railway Hotel, kept by Mr Lee, an old man of 70 who was in The 53rd Staffordshire Highlanders Regiment in the war of the Sepoys and who guided us this morning.

He is a real Breton[xviii], stocky, phlegmatic, all white, with a ruddy complexion and blue eyes and a straight but scarred nose. He is one of those rare Englishmen who is in India and who fought against the Sepoys. He is very talkative and takes all his guests around the area. We went with him and he showed us not far from the Hotel the home of Nana sahib, the famous head of the revolutionaries.

He was not pleased with the English government because they would not acknowledge his titles. Nana was the legitimate son of the King Maharatta, who had accepted him as his rightful heir. The Government would not recognise his titles, and he incited the natives against the English, and as he was exceedingly rich, he provided the funds and kept the revolt going. The natives had at their head five leaders who were: The revolutionaries spread the word, by circulating cakes blessed by the Hindu priests which contained pamphlets. When the cakes had been cut the oath of fidelity to the English had been broken and they were free to fight against them.

The Revolutionaries were absolute masters of the country and gave orders by couriers on horseback. They intercepted all telegraphic communication and the English who were a long way off could not send any news. At the start of the revolt Nana was in Cawnpore where there was the greatest number of English.

He passd himself off as a devotee of England and gave advice to General Wheeler about the stance he should take. He was a well educated high born , rich and powerful, he was accepted into English society and went to their dances. On his advice the English were encamped in Longere a terrace of buildings newly built of which only the foundations are to be seen. Encircling this he had made a mud wall behind which the soldiers would be protected, all the women and children being in barracks. In front of the house is a well and the surrounding countryside, where the enemy was, was bare.

To get water one went to the well at the peril of your life, and the people died of thirst and hunger, from cholera and madness brought on by the intense heat. Wheeler was wounded and in bed. They fought bravely and when they had to give up the main square they retreated to a smaller one. On the other side of the barricade was a well, over which they had placed a stone cross with inscriptions, where the men carried the dead at the risk of their own lives. On the other side are the rows of barrack blocks built in a diagonal line with the race course in front.

Pushed to the very limits, they received a note signed by Nana in which he offered them free passage to Allahabad, so long as they gave up their arms. The ceiling is painted with different figures; the outside is also decorated with quite indecent figures which were later effaced. On the front aspect are two platforms and steps that lead to the river. To the east is a long bend on which is built the car and railway bridge.

Wheeler was quite surprised when he got to the pagoda; they entered and went down the steps. They started by embarking the older ladies and the infirm into three boats which were moored together, then others came behind, the young women and men were ordered to stay in the pagoda. Wheeler was under the awning of the quay, lying on his stretcher, everyone was to the east in the shelter of the parapet when Nana and his men, richly dressed, mainly retired sub-officers and native soldiers who had been appointed officers, they rushed the defenceless enemy and set about carnage by sword and rifle.

There had been cannon brought to the banks of the Ganges from some distance[CCdeC3] and the boats were bombarded as they passed. The women and children ran pell-mell into the water to get to the opposite bank and when they got close they were bombarded by cannon hidden in the undergrowth, they were almost all killed.

Seven officers and sixty six men escaped and were recaptured and incarcerated in the Savadar House Nana Sahibs house on the other side of the race course. These por devils had their hands bound and could only eat a few grains of rice by leaning forward and using their mouths. When they died they were just left. A commemorative stone has been erected for them near the church. The women were taken to a house which no longer exists but on the spot is a cross in white marble on a black pedestal. This cross is to the westof the monument of Cawnpore and the Prince of Clarence, on his visit to India, a little before his death had three weeping willows and two cypress trees planted there.

The bridges over the Grand Canal that is linked to the Ganges and passes close to Cawnpore and made a very good defensive obstacle had been destroyed, however the 53rd crossed on the only one remaining serviceable. There was an exchange of fire, Nana seeing that the Regiment was going to take his palace ordered the massacre of the victims, this was done in a barbaric way and too dreadful to be related in the history books. When the 53rd arrived in the house where the massacre had taken place the bodies were still warm, they buried them in the well which they ringed later and set up an angel in marble with two doves in her hand, dead, women, children, old and infirm.

They died with much composure[xix]. The monument is very good artistically, the surrounding wall are in stone worked in vine leaves on the inside, the railings are sculptured and posts finished with Gothic tops. The gate is in sculptured bronze, one goes down a circular staircase, on the opening of the well there is a pedestal in the same grey stone as used in the surrounding wall, bordered with a row of intertwined hearts, the angel above which has lowered eyes is a calm figure and reposes with palm leaves in her hands.

To one side is a cemetery where many of the victims were buried with no inscription. Later well wishers erected a few monuments. All around the well there are cypress trees, and in front a bed of pansies of various colours. The famous tree is surrounded by a bank of earth a little larger in diameter. The garden is charming and it is forbidden bring in the horses too fast, all is done at walking pace to show respect. The monument is really imposing. Whole families were massacred. There is the communion table at the end, the two rows of tables for the music, inscriptions by each of the lateral doors, and rows of benches.

The roof is very high and gives a strong echo; it was necessary to put a double layer of felt over the pulpit. To one side there is a building which is used as a school and has been reduced by half. It was here that many women and children took refuge. The natives set light to the roof and those that ran away were shot as soon as they left. Lucknow, 13th January We were delighted to meet some society ladies and men in evening dress sitting round a well laden table.

The rooms are quite good with double beds. This morning we went with a man who had been a servant[xx] of Colonel Fulton du Genis, one of the principle officers in the siege of Lucknow. Firstly we went to Kaiser Bagh, an immense square with magnificent doors that had been covered with golden domes and had cost millions. It had been the palace and the Zenana of the last king of Oudh, the audience hall at the centre on the courtyard now serves as a committee room when The Viceroy comes to Lucknow.

To one side is a boys college; the palace is quite well looked after with some fine well tended lawns, there are tufts of aurora vines, bougainvilleas, a whole series of f buildings on each side are not used. On the ground floor there is a really huge collection of Hindu figures, gods, heads, budas, columns etc. Above one can see examples of local industry, life-size dummies of the different local Indians dressed in traditional dress of the region, specimens of Jeypoore stone, a collection of plaster statuettes and some of coloured earth, copper objects, and embroidery and so on.

The walls lizard skin and there is a little step in front. The Begam Khoti is beside an old mosque, where there were also 30 women. Nearby there is a large banyan tree, several gun emplacements and the Renan Post where the battle was most fierce. Then comes the house in which was Lady Outram, the rows of barracks and cavalry stables all in ruin. Then the Banqueting hall that had been converted into a hospital, there are flowers all around.

Close by there is a well from which water is drawn by two oxen, working on an inclined plane, drag a leather bucket attached to a rope, they draw a great quantity of water in one go. After comes the Water Gate Battery on a promontory, with one large and two smaller cannon. At this point the English killed natives who tried to get though a breach, they made a sortie and took several cannon. Within the area are many monument erected by friends of the soldiers killed by the Sepoys. The country round about is very fertile, there are fine fields of tobacco and vegetables, on the road that leads to Great Imambra or Machehi Bowan which is a large area with a grand entrance door at the base of which are two fish and above a crown over which is an umbrella, the emblems of the king of Oudh.

The interior courtyard contains a large round, very green, lawn; one climbs up to the Imambra by a long staircase, the building is feet long and has two small floors with a row of cupolas above, there is a relly huge hall inside and a veranda of the same size at the rear, all covered in cord matting with some containing shinny bits. At the centre are two tombs with balustrades covered in silver leaf, to one side there is a ghoon to Hossen and Hassen which are taken apart each year in July.

In the rooms to each side there is a dias at the far end and red stone balconies which project from the arched roof. From there we went to the tombs of the Kings of Oudh, a place planted with lovely gardens. At the side entrance there is a large door decorated with two fish, below which is decorated with spikes. On entering the door leading to the courtyard, there is on each side a Roman[xxi] which holds a heavy chain attached to the top of the door. In the middle of the garden on either side of a long pond there is a monument representing the Taj, which are joined by a semi circular bridge.

There are some lovely rose in the flower beds, and around the pond pots of clover with yellow flowers. The building at the far end is charming and contains the remains of the last king of Oudh. Around the tomb of the king of Oudh there are two fine German candelabras made of coloured glass that e cost an awful lot, big candelabras and shiny glass of many colours, the flagstones made of marble of a variety of colours. The public gardens are vast. The flower beds are arranged with different designs and the paths covered with white and green stone chippings. It appears this country is Rose country.

We had seen some really good ones at the railway station, above all a wonderful spray of white ones. Railway stations are generally well kept, large square freshly painted buildings with long flowerbeds, planted with shrubs and flowers. In the afternoon we did a tour of the bazaars. The proper town bazaar is the best. In the morning we stopped at the bazaar selling silver and articles in copper, it is clean, well kept and one sees some very fine objects, this area is just behind the Imambra, I saw some very pretty thins made of silver and copper, with black and red inlay.

In one of the shops we saw some pieces in gold that really tempted me. Other items from Oudh and Jeypoore, in Indian and Arabic script. In the bazaar of the canton we stopped off at an antiques shop where I bought some photographs and Durfort bought a painted statuette or two[xxii] representing the different castes and professions, and others in pottery but not painted.

They cost about 5 or 6 rupees for half a dozen. At the hotel we were harassed by sellers of embroidery and cashmere of all sorts, leopard skins, fox furs, sculptures. My companions very much regretted not having bought paintings on ivory , in Delhi of he Mogul Emperors, , of the, the Taj, The Jumna Musjid, and Persian women: In the afternoon we went to see a dance by the Natch above a little shop, where we had to climb a steep and narrow stairway, with just enough space to pass, in the room which was really small with three sofas and a covered dais at one end, there were two musicians with sheets round their shoulders and their guitars, a little man with a triangle, our guide with his huge turban, twice as big as his head and his silver badge with the hotel sign on it, he sat on the side with the mistress of he house.

The guide had tried to cheat us out of 30 rupees instead of fifteen for three girls; even then they provided only one. Neither the music nor the dance was worth the 15 rupees we actually paid. Critics blasted the administration for not making religion a more important factor, as the U. Experts say another reason for the lack of Christians in the make-up of the refugees is the make-up of the camps. Christians in the main United Nations refugee camp in Jordan are subject to persecution, they say, and so flee the camps, meaning they are not included in the refugees referred to the U.

However, others called on the Obama administration, in light of its genocide declaration, to do more to assist Christians, including setting up safe zones in Syria or actively seeking out Christians via the use of contractors to bring them to safety. This week, the ACLJ filed a lawsuit against the State Department for not responding to Freedom of Information Act requests about what the administration is doing to combat the genocide. For Shea, the question is not just about helping refugees, but the very survival of Christianity in the 2,year community that has existed since the apostolic era of Christianity.

He can be reached here or on Twitter: President Trump has ordered a temporary, day halt to admitting refugees from seven countries, all of them war-torn states with majority-Muslim populations: He has further indicated that, once additional screening provisions are put in place, he wants further refugee admissions from those countries to give priority to Christian refugees over Muslim refugees. But it is also not the dangerous and radical departure from U.

His policy may be terrible public relations for the United States, but it is fairly narrow and well within the recent tradition of immigration actions taken by the Obama administration. The executive order, on its face, does not discriminate between Muslim and Christian or Jewish immigrants, and it is far from being a complete ban on Muslim immigrants or even Muslim refugees. If you were a Muslim you could come in, but if you were a Christian it was almost impossible.

And the reason that was so unfair — everybody was persecuted, in all fairness — but they were chopping off the heads of everybody, but more so the Christians. And I thought it was very, very unfair. The United States has accepted 10, Syrian refugees, of whom 56 are Christian. Not 56 percent; 56 total, out of 10, That is to say, one-half of 1 percent. Experts say [one] reason for the lack of Christians in the makeup of the refugees is the makeup of the camps. So long as Obama could outsource religious discrimination against Christian refugees to Jordan and the U.

Obama had been planning to dramatically expand that number, to ,, in — only after he was safely out of office. This brings us to a broader point: His move, intended to signal an easing of tensions with the brutal Communist dictatorship in Havana, has stranded scores of refugees in Mexico and Central America, and Mexico last Friday deported the first 91 of them to Cuba. After all, Cuban Americans tend to vote Republican.

There are plenty of moral and political arguments on these points, but foreigners have no right under our Constitution to demand entry to the United States or to challenge any reason we might have to refuse them entry, even blatant religious discrimination. Liberals are likewise on both unwise and unpopular ground in sneering at the idea that there might be an increased risk of radical Islamist terrorism resulting from large numbers of Muslims entering the country as refugees or asylees.

There have been many such cases in Europe, ranging from terrorists as in the Brussels attack posing as refugees to the infiltration of radicals and the radicalization of new entrants. Here in the U.


The Tsarnaev brothers who carried out the Boston Marathon bombing were children of asylees; the Times Square bomber was a Pakistani immigrant; the underwear bomber was from Nigeria; the San Bernardino shooter was the son of Pakistani immigrants; the Chattanooga shooter was from Kuwait; the Fort Hood shooter was the son of Palestinian immigrants. All of this takes place against the backdrop of a global movement of radical Islamist terrorism that kills tens of thousands of people a year in terrorist attacks and injures or kidnaps tens of thousands more. There are plenty of reasons not to indict the entire innocent Muslim population, including those who come as refugees or asylees seeking to escape tyranny and radicalism, for the actions of a comparatively small percentage of radicals.

But efforts to salami-slice the problem into something that looks like a minor or improbable outlier, or to compare this to past waves of immigrants, are an insult to the intelligence of the public. The tradeoffs from a more open-borders posture are real, and the reasons for wanting our screening process to be a demanding one are serious.

This is unserious and childish: President Obama deported over 2. Conservatives have long recognized these points — which is another way of saying that a blank check for refugee admissions is no more a core principle of the Right than it is of the Left. Three of those seven Iran, Syria, and Sudan are designated by the State Department as state sponsors of terror, but the history of terrorism by Islamist radicals over the past two decades — even state-sponsored terrorism — is dominated by people who are not from countries engaged in officially recognized state-sponsored terrorism.

That said, the seven states selected do include most of the influx of refugees and do present particular logistical problems in vetting the backgrounds of refugees. And the refugee problem is partly one of our own creation. My own preference for Syrian refugees, many of them military-age males whom Assad is trying to get out of his country, has been to arm them, train them, and send them back, after the tradition of the Polish and French in World War II and the Czechs in World War I.

So where else can they go? Also, some people seeking refugee status or asylum may have stronger claims on our gratitude. Consider some of the first people denied entry under the new policy:. The lawyers said that one of the Iraqis detained at Kennedy Airport, Hameed Khalid Darweesh, had worked on behalf of the United States government in Iraq for ten years. The other, Haider Sameer Abdulkhaleq Alshawi, was coming to the United States to join his wife, who had worked for an American contractor, and young son, the lawyers said. But in a turn of humorous irony that undercut some of the liberal narrative, it turns out that Darweesh told the press that he likes Trump.

Certainly, we should give stronger consideration to refugee or asylum claims from people who are endangered as a result of their cooperation with the U. But such consideration can still be extended on a case-by-case basis, as the executive order explicitly permits: Trump also seems to have triggered some unnecessary chaos at the airports and borders around the globe by signing the order without a lot of adequate advance notice to the public or to the people charged with administering the order.

Then again, the core policy is one he broadcast to great fanfare well over a year ago, so this comes as no great shock. The American tradition of accepting refugees and asylees from around the world, especially from the clutches of our enemies, is a proud one, and it is a sad thing to see that compromised. And while Middle Eastern Christians should be given greater priority in escaping a region where they are particularly persecuted, the next step in this process should not be one that seeks to permanently enshrine a preference for Christians over Muslims generally.

The Roots of a Counterproductive Immigration Policy The liberal scorn for nationhood and refusal to adapt immigration policy to changing circumstances enables the rise of extremism in the West.

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David Frum The Atlantic monthly Jan 28, The Orlando nightclub shooter, the worst mass-casualty gunman in US history, was the son of immigrants from Afghanistan. The San Bernardino shooters were first and second generation immigrants from Pakistan. Nidal Hassan, the Fort Hood killer, was the son of Palestinian immigrants. The Tsarnaev brothers who detonated bombs at the Boston marathon held Kyrgyz nationality. The would-be Times Square car bomber was a naturalized immigrant from Pakistan.

The ringleader of the Paris attacks of November , about which Donald Trump spoke so much on the campaign trail, was a Belgian national of Moroccan origins. If the goal is to exclude radical Muslims from the United States, the executive order Trump announced on Friday seems a highly ineffective way to achieve it. The Trump White House has incurred all the odium of an anti-Muslim religious test, without any attendant real-world benefit. The measure amounts to symbolic politics at its most stupid and counterproductive. Its most likely practical effect will be to aggravate the political difficulty of dealing directly and speaking without euphemisms about Islamic terrorism.

As ridiculous as was the former Obama position that Islamic terrorism has nothing to do with Islam, the new Trump position that all Muslims are potential terrorists is vastly worse. What Trump has done is to divide and alienate potential allies—and push his opponents to embrace the silliest extremes of the WelcomeRefugees point of view. By issuing his order on Holocaust Remembrance Day, Trump empowered his opponents to annex the victims of Nazi crimes to their own purposes.

The Western world desperately needs a more hardheaded approach to the issue of refugees. It is bound by laws and treaties written after World War II that have been rendered utterly irrelevant by a planet on the move. The relatively small portion of that number who have reached the rich North since have already up-ended the politics of the United States, the United Kingdom, and the European Union. Interpreting these indelible conflicts through the absurdly inapt analogy of German and Austrian Jews literally fleeing for their lives will lead to systematically erroneous conclusions.

We need a new paradigm for a new time. The social trust and social cohesion that characterize an advanced society like the United States are slowly built and vulnerable to erosion. Trump is more the symptom of that erosion than the cause. Yet without the dreamy liberal refusal to recognize the reality of nationhood, the meaning of citizenship, and the differences between cultures, Trump would never have gained the power to issue that order. Liberalism and nationhood grew up together in the 19th century, mutually dependent. In the 21st century, they have grown apart—or more exactly, liberalism has recoiled from nationhood.

The result has not been to abolish nationality, but to discredit liberalism. Angela Merkel and Donald Trump may be temperamental opposites. They are also functional allies. Trump and the American Divide. How a lifelong New Yorker became tribune of the rustics and deplorables. His face was a wrinkled latticework, his false teeth yellow. His truck smelled of cigarettes, its cab overflowing with flotsam and jetsam: He rolled down the window and muttered something about the plunging water-table level and whether a weak front would bring any rain. And then, this dinosaur put one finger up on the wheel as a salutation and drove off in a dust cloud.

Their voices were nasal, their conversation rapid-fire— politics, cars, houses, vacations, fashion, and restaurants all came up. The postelection map of Republican and Democratic counties mirrored my geographical disconnect. Yet Clinton won the popular vote, drawing most of her support in razor-thin, densely populated blue ribbons up and down the East and West Coast corridors and in the Great Lakes nexus. As disgruntled liberal commentator Henry Grabar summed up the election result: The rural party won. Not only have the Democrats surrendered Congress; they now control just 13 state legislatures and 15 governorships—far below where they were pre—Barack Obama.

Over the past decade, more than 1, elected Democratic state lawmakers have lost their jobs, with most of the hemorrhaging taking place outside the cities. As insurance, though, furious progressives also renewed calls to abolish the Electoral College, advocating for a constitutional amendment that would turn presidential elections into national plebiscites.

Direct presidential voting would shift power to heavily urbanized areas—why waste time trying to reach more dispersed voters in less populated rural states? For some minorities, sincerity and directness might be preferable to sloganeering by wealthy white urban progressives, who often seem more worried about assuaging their own guilt than about genuinely understanding people of different colors.

The city remains as dependent on elemental stuff—typically produced outside the suburbs and cities—as ever. Trump connected with these rural voters with far greater success than liberals anticipated. Urban minorities failed in to vote en bloc, in their Obama-level numbers; and rural Americans, enthused by Trump, increased their turnout, so that even a shrinking American countryside still had enough clout to win. W hat is insufficiently understood is why a hurting rural America favored the urban, superrich Trump in and, more generally, tends to vote more conservative than liberal.

Ostensibly, the answer is clear: In some of the most despairing counties, rural life has become a mirror image of the inner city, ravaged by drug use, criminality, and hopelessness. Yet if muscular work has seen a decline in its relative monetary worth, it has not necessarily lost its importance. After all, the elite in Washington and Menlo Park appreciate the fresh grapes and arugula that they purchase at Whole Foods.

Someone mined the granite used in their expensive kitchen counters and cut the timber for their hardwood floors. The fuel in their hybrid cars continues to come from refined oil. The city remains as dependent on this elemental stuff—typically produced outside the suburbs and cities—as it always was. The two Palo Altoans at Starbucks might have forgotten that their overpriced homes included two-by-fours, circuit breakers, and four-inch sewer pipes, but somebody somewhere made those things and brought them into their world. In the twenty-first century, though, the exploitation of natural resources and the manufacturing of products are more easily outsourced than are the arts of finance, insurance, investments, higher education, entertainment, popular culture, and high technology, immaterial sectors typically pursued within metropolitan contexts and supercharged by the demands of increasingly affluent global consumers.

A vast government sector, mostly urban, is likewise largely impervious to the leveling effects of a globalized economy, even as its exorbitant cost and extended regulatory reach make the outsourcing of material production more likely. Asian steel may have devastated Youngstown, but Chinese dumping had no immediate effect on the flourishing government enclaves in Washington, Maryland, and Virginia, filled with well-paid knowledge workers. Few major political leaders before Trump seemed to care. He hammered home the point that elites rarely experienced the negative consequences of their own ideologies.

And senators and bureaucrats in Washington face no risk of having their roles usurped by low-wage Vietnamese politicians. Trump quickly discovered that millions of Americans were irate that the costs and benefits of our new economic reality were so unevenly distributed. As the nation became more urban and its wealth soared, the old Democratic commitment from the Roosevelt era to much of rural America—construction of water projects, rail, highways, land banks, and universities; deference to traditional values; and Grapes of Wrath —like empathy—has largely been forgotten.

A confident, upbeat urban America promoted its ever more radical culture without worrying much about its effects on a mostly distant and silent small-town other. In , gay marriage and women in combat were opposed, at least rhetorically, by both Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton in their respective presidential campaigns. By , mere skepticism on these issues was viewed by urban elites as reactionary ignorance.

These cultural themes, too, Trump addressed forcefully. I s there something about the land itself that promotes conservatism? The answer is as old as Western civilization. Country people in the Western tradition lived in a shame culture. Family reputation hinged on close-knit assessments of personal behavior only possible in small communities of the like-minded and tribal. The rural ethos could not afford radical changes in lifestyles when the narrow margins of farming safety rested on what had worked in the past.

By contrast, self-reinvention and social experimentation were possible only in large cities of anonymous souls and varieties of income and enrichment. In classical literature, patriotism and civic militarism were always closely linked with farming and country life. In the twenty-first century, this is still true. The incubator of the U. Farming, animal husbandry, mining, logging—these traditional bodily tasks were often praised in the past as epitomes of the proper balance between physical and mental, nature and culture, fact and theory.

In classical pastoral and Georgic poetry, the city-bound often romanticized the countryside, even if, on arrival, they found the flies and dirt of Arcadia bothersome. Theocritus and Virgil reflected that, in the trade-offs imposed by transforming classical societies, the earthiness lost by city dwellers was more grievous to their souls than the absence of erudition and sophistication was to the souls of simpler farmers and shepherds.

Trump, the billionaire Manhattanite wheeler-dealer, made an unlikely agrarian, true; but he came across during his presidential run as a clear advocate of old-style material jobs, praising vocational training and clearly enjoying his encounters with middle-American homemakers, welders, and carpenters. Trump talked more on the campaign about those who built his hotels than those who financed them.

He could point to the fact that he made stuff, unlike Clinton, who got rich without any obvious profession other than leveraging her office. Give the thrice-married, orange-tanned, and dyed-haired Trump credit for his political savvy in promising to restore to the dispossessed of the Rust Belt their old jobs and to give back to farmers their diverted irrigation water, and for assuring small towns that arriving new Americans henceforth would be legal—and that, over time, they would become similar to their hosts in language, custom, and behavior.

Les Pretres Nous Nous Reverrons Un Jour Ou L'Autre

C hanges come more slowly to rural interior areas, given that the sea, the historical importer of strange people and weird ideas, is far away. Maritime Athens was liberal, democratic, and cosmopolitan; its antithesis, landlocked Sparta, was oligarchic, provincial, and tradition-bound. Rural people rarely meet—and tend not to wish to meet—the traders, foreigners, and importers who arrive at ports with their foreign money and exotic customs.

If one wished to destroy the purity of rural, conservative society, his odd rant went, then the Athens of Pericles would be just about the best model to follow. A guy who had built hotels all over the world, and understood how much money was made and lost through foreign investment, offered to put such expertise in the service of the heartland—against the supposed currency devaluers, trade cheats, and freeloaders of Europe, China, and Japan. Language is also different in the countryside. Rural speech serves, by its very brevity and directness, as an enhancement to action.

Verbosity and rhetoric, associated with urbanites, were always rural targets in classical literature, precisely because they were seen as ways to disguise reality so as to advance impractical or subversive political agendas. In the countryside, by contrast, crops either grow or wither; olive trees either yield or remain barren; rain either arrives or is scarce.

For the rural mind, language must convey what is seen and heard; it is less likely to indulge adornment. To the rural mind, verbal gymnastics reveal dishonest politicians, biased journalists, and conniving bureaucrats, who must hide what they really do and who they really are. To paraphrase Cicero on his preference for the direct Plato over the obscure Pythagoreans, rural Americans would have preferred to be wrong with the blunt-talking Trump than to be right with the mush-mouthed Hillary Clinton. One reason that Trump may have outperformed both McCain and Romney with minority voters was that they appreciated how much the way he spoke rankled condescending white urban liberals.

Poorer, less cosmopolitan, rural people can also experience a sense of inferiority when they venture into the city, unlike smug urbanites visiting red-state America. The rural folk expect to be seen as deplorables, irredeemables, and clingers by city folk. And just as the urban poor have always had their tribunes, so, too, have rural residents flocked to an Andrew Jackson or a William Jennings Bryan, politicians who enjoyed getting back at the urban classes for perceived slights.

I ndeed, one irony of the election is that identity politics became a lethal boomerang for progressives.

After years of seeing America reduced to a binary universe, with culpable white Christian males encircled by ascendant noble minorities, gays, feminists, and atheists—usually led by courageous white-male progressive crusaders—red-state America decided that two could play the identity-politics game. In , rural folk did silently in the voting booth what urban America had done to them so publicly in countless sitcoms, movies, and political campaigns. In sum, Donald Trump captured the twenty-first-century malaise of a rural America left behind by globalized coastal elites and largely ignored by the establishments of both political parties.

That a New York billionaire almost alone grasped how red-state America truly thought, talked, and acted, and adjusted his message and style accordingly, will remain one of the astonishing ironies of American political history. The American middle classes, the Chinese, and Vladimir Putin have never been convinced that Ivy League degrees, vast Washington experience, and cultural sophistication necessarily translate into national wisdom. For Trump, miners were not the human equivalent of the 4, bald eagles that the Obama administration recently assured the wind turbine industry can be shredded for the greater good of alternate energy and green profiteering.

In other words, Trump instinctively saw the miners of West Virginia — and by extension the working-class populations of states such as Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Ohio — as emblematic of the forgotten man, in a way few of his Republican rivals, much less Hilary Clinton, grasped. Rivals, Democratic and Republican alike, had bought into the electoral matrix of Barack Obama: Trump instinctively saw a different demographic. And even among minority groups, he detected a rising distaste for being patronized, especially by white, nasal-droning, elite pajama-boy nerds whose loud progressivism did not disguise their grating condescension.

Trump Dismissed as a Joke Yet even after destroying the Clinton Dynasty, the Bush-family aristocracy, the Obama legacy, and 16 more-seasoned primary rivals, Trump was dismissed by observers as being mostly a joke, idiotic and reckless. Such a dismissal is a serious mistake, because what Trump lacks in traditionally defined sophistication and awareness, he more than makes up for in shrewd political cunning of a sort not seen since the regnum of Franklin Roosevelt. Take a few recent examples. Or perhaps Trump channeled reports that there was an epidemic of invalid or out-of-date voter registrations.

Controversially, the normally staid Pew Charitable Trust found that 2. Or maybe he fanned fears that illegal aliens were voting. Another controversial study from two professors at Old Dominion suggested that over 6 percent of non-citizens may have voted in ; and the president on the eve of the election, in his usual wink-and-nod fashion, assured the illegal-alien community that there would be no federal interest in examining immigration status in connection with voting status.

Or perhaps Trump was convinced that the media and the Democratic establishment worked hand in hand to warp elections and media coverage. The WikiLeaks trove revealed that media operatives leaked primary debate questions and sent their stories to the Clinton campaign for fact-checking before publication, as two successive DNC chairpersons resigned in disgrace for purportedly sabotaging the primary-challenge efforts of Bernie Sanders. For all this and more, Trump was roundly denounced by the status quo as a buffoon who cherry-picked scholarly work to offer puerile distortions.

After the election, that supposition was more than confirmed. Then members of the Clinton campaign and powerful Democrats joined an effort to pressure electors of the Electoral College to defy their state-mandated duty to reflect the vote totals of their states and instead refrain from voting for Donald Trump. Yet our intelligence agencies do have a history of politicization. The national intelligence assessment at the height of the Iraq insurgency and of George W.

There is still no solid proof of deliberate Russian cyber interference intended to aid Donald Trump. Loretta Lynch is skeptical that Russia tried to help the Trump campaign. WikiLeaks, for what it is worth, insists its source was not Russian. And we now learn that intelligence authorities are refusing to testify in closed session to the House Intelligence Committee about the evidence that prompted their odd post-election announcements — announcements that contradict their earlier pre-election suggestions that Russian hacking was not affecting the election.

One possibility is that the likelihood of a Clinton victory spurred the administration and the likely president-elect to suggest that the election process remained sacrosanct and immune from all tampering — while the completely unforeseen loss to Trump abruptly motivated them to readjust such assessments. Trump has a habit of offering off-the-cuff unconventional observations — often unsubstantiated by verbal footnotes and in hyperbolic fashion.

Then he is blasted for ignorance and recklessness by bipartisan grandees. Only later, and quietly, he is often taken seriously, but without commensurate public acknowledgement. A few more examples. Europeans, shocked by gambling in Casablanca, scrambled to assure that they were upping their defense contributions and drawing the NATO line at the Baltic States.

President-elect Trump generated even greater outrage in the aftermath of the election when he took a call from the Taiwanese president. Foreign policy hands were aghast. Did this faker understand the dimensions of his blunder? Was he courting nuclear war? Trump shrugged, as reality again intruded: Why sell billions of dollars in weaponry to Taiwan if you cannot talk to its president? Are arms shipments less provocative than receiving a single phone call?

Why worry what China thinks, given that it has swallowed Tibet and now created artificial islands in the South China Sea, in defiance of all maritime custom, law, and tradition? Two weeks later after the call, analysts — true to the pattern — meekly agreed that such a phone call was hardly incendiary. Perhaps, they mused, it was overdue and had a certain logic.

Perhaps it had, after all, sent a valuable message to China that the U. Perhaps the Taiwan call had, after all, sent a valuable message to China that the U. More recently, Trump asked in a tweet why we should take back a sea drone stolen by China from under the nose of a U. On most issues, Trump sensed what was verbiage and what was doable — and what was the indefensible position of his opponents. Finishing the existing southern border wall is sane and sober. Ending sanctuary cities will win majority support: Who wants to make the neo-Confederate argument that local jurisdictions can override U.

Deporting illegal-alien law-breakers — or those who are fit and able but without any history of work — is likewise the sort of position that the Left cannot, for political reasons, easily oppose. As for the rest, after closing off the border, Trump will likely shrug and allow illegal aliens who are working, who have established a few years of residence, and who are non-criminal to pay a fine, learn English, and get a green card — perhaps relegating the entire quagmire of illegal immigration to a one-time American aberration that has diminishing demographic and political relevance.

Trump the Brawler Finally, Trump sensed that the proverbial base was itching for a bare-knuckles fighter. They wanted any kind of brawler who would not play by the Marquess of Queensberry rules of and that had doomed Romney and McCain, who, fairly or not, seemed to wish to lose nobly rather than win in black-and-blue fashion, and who were sometimes more embarrassed than proud of their base. So Trump said the same kinds of things to Hillary Clinton that she, in barely more measured tones, had often said to others but never expected anyone to say out loud to her.

No doubt his tweets will continue to offend. But lost amid the left-wing hatred of Trump and the conservative Never Trump condescension is that so far he has shattered American political precedents by displaying much more political cunning and prescience than have his political opponents and most observers.

Key is his emperor-has-no-clothes instinct that what is normal and customary in Washington was long ago neither sane nor necessary. And so far, his candidacy has not only redefined American politics but also recalibrated the nature of insight itself — leaving the wise to privately wonder whether they were ever all that wise after all.

The brilliant Donald Trump deserves to win. His political achievements are already unprecedented, and his insight amounts to genius. Almost anyone who has followed the US presidential selection process closely could realise what a brilliant campaign Donald Trump has conducted. He saw that in its self-absorption, the US political class had completely failed to grasp the extent of public anger at the deterioration of almost everything. American public policy has brought about the greatest sequence of disasters since the s, when the liquor business was given to gangsters by Prohibition, followed by the equities debt bubble and the Great Depression.

In the past 20 years, both parties shared in the creation of the housing bubble, which produced the greatest financial crisis since the s, and a decade of war in the Middle East which, despite excellent military execution, Obama has turned into a victory for Iran and an immense humanitarian disaster.

Both political parties share the blame for the admission of 12 million unskilled workers into the US illegally, and for trade pacts with cheap-labour countries that appear to import unemployment. There has never been anything remotely like the rise of America from a small number of colonists to the most dominant power in history, and Americans are not philosophical about being held up to ridicule in the world. Donald Trump, a great public figure — as the developer of famous buildings, an impresario and television host — saw the depth of American outrage at all this and as a non-politician was not complicit in any of it.

He won from the start, piling up astonishing pluralities as the commentariat slowly retreated. They claimed he could not aspire to more than 20, 30, 40 per cent of Republicans, would be sandbagged at the convention, would attract a Ross Perot-like third party to splinter the Republican vote, and would be routed in a horrible landslide by Hillary Clinton. The flabby Republican establishment backed Ted Cruz, an intelligent man who nevertheless told the world that God had commanded he run and who pitched his campaign to the Bible-thumping corn-cobbers with Ms in the rear windows of their pick-up trucks.

The media have remained smugly hostile to Trump, despite warnings that a majority of Americans despise the media too — and that they were just stoking a pro-Trump backlash. As Trump has moved up, Hillary Clinton has had to move far to the left to hold off Bernie Sanders, a septuagenarian former Stalinist kibbutznik and socialist senator for Vermont. Trump and Clinton both went to great lengths to maintain the centrists in control of both parties, against severe challenges from the far Republican right and Democratic left; but almost none of the media, foreign or domestic, has noticed.

The best is yet to come: He will be the sane and educated man he is. Even Whitewater is due for a rerun. In taking over a major US political party from the outside, he has done something that has never been done before, and he should win. Standing with some 30, people in front of Independence Hall in Philadelphia the night before the election watching Hillary Clinton speak, exhausted aides were already worrying about what would come next. Some of them had already started gaming out names for who it would be.

What happened the next night shocked even the most pessimistic Democrats. But in another sense, it was the reckoning the party had been expecting for years. Or all the problems with how Clinton and her aides ran the campaign. Win or lose, Democrats were facing an existential crisis in the years ahead—the result of years of complacency, ignoring the withering of the grass roots and the state parties, sitting by as Republicans racked up local win after local win.

As Trump takes over the GOP and starts remaking its new identity as a nationalist, populist party, creating a new political pole in American politics for the first time in generations, all eyes are on the Democrats. How will they confront a suddenly awakened, and galvanized, white majority? Worried liberals are watching with trepidation, fearful that Trump is just the beginning of worse to come, desperate for a comeback strategy that can work.

Too tied to Obama. Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer? And all of them old, old, old. After all, Clinton did beat Trump by 2. But they are stuck in the minority in Congress with no end in sight, have only 16 governors left and face 32 state legislatures fully under GOP control. Their top leaders in the House are all over Their top leaders in the Senate are all over They differ in their prescriptions, but all boil down to the same inconvenient truth: If Republicans dominate the midterms, they will control the Senate and with it, the Supreme Court for years, and they will draw district lines in states that will lock in majorities in the House and across state capitals, killing the next generation of Democrats in the crib, setting up the GOP for an even more dominant and beyond.

Most doubt Democrats have the stamina or the stomach for the kind of cohesive resistance that Republicans perfected over the years. Some thinking has started to take shape. Obama is quickly reformatting his post-presidency to have a more political bent than he had planned. Vice President Joe Biden is beginning to structure his own thoughts on mentoring and guiding rising Democrats. No one seems to be waiting to hear from Clinton.

And everyone from Obama on down is talking about going local, focusing on the kinds of small races and party-building activities Republicans have been dominating for cycle after cycle. But all that took decades, and Democrats have no time. What are they going to do next? And there may never have been a party less ready to confront it. The tiles need to be tight. We have to get through this heat. Those are fights they can wrap their heads around.

No, the existential, hair-on-fire threat to the Democratic Party is just how easy it was for Trump to sneak around their flank and rob them of an issue they thought was theirs alone—economic populism—even as they partied at fundraisers in Hollywood and the Hamptons. The mission now, Warren believes, can be summed up in five words: Take back populism from Trump. But that national focus has become myopic.

Murphy is all for saying no to Trump, but he argues that Democrats need to come up with their own proposals, however unrealistic, and say yes—big league. Forget it, Murphy says: She won by 20 percentage points in a northwest Illinois district that Trump carried by half a point and Obama carried by 17 points in Bustos wants each member to identify constituents who will be affected by policy shifts under Trump and have district staff promote those people in local media. Tell their stories, she says.

This has echoes of how Bill Clinton campaigned in —as a champion of globalization who would make it work better for ordinary Americans—but that was before so many of the factories had closed, before the culture felt different, before the internet made everything more immediate and more immediately infuriating. Over emails, texts and phone calls, ad hoc networks of younger Democrats have started to form, eager to talk about a new start for the party. He wanted Clinton to win.

Those who do, he says, are all basing their thinking on what they did to George W. Bush or what Mitch McConnell did to Obama. This is a new world for them. It sounds reasonable enough, except for one problem: The only mechanism Democrats have to actually shape what happens in Washington is the Senate—with 48 votes that give them an eight-vote margin for error on filibusters and the hope that three Republicans will break away on some votes to join them in the majority.

And here, Democrats have more of a strategy than they are perhaps letting on. In essence, the idea is to focus on issues that drive a wedge through the Republican caucus. Les Cahiers du C. Francke Verlag, Romanica Helvetica, Senefiance , 36 , p. University of Pennsylvania Press, , p. Leupin dans Fiction et Incarnation. Liana Levi, , p.

Lettres Gothiques, , p. The definition of this space [le corps maternel] is to great extend predicated on the alterity and specificity os the female body: The monologic quality of the symbol and the gulf which lies between it and that which it symbolises does, however, lend it a self-limiting, self-fulfilling quality; the positive aspects of the symbol are countered by its inherently static, repressive nature.

Kristeva sees the thirteenth century as the critical point that marks the beginning of the transition from symbol to sign […]. Kay The Chanson de geste in the age of the romance , p. Les trois yeux v. Francke Verlag, Romanica Helvetica, , p. Vasa namque sanguinis venae sunt et harum principium est cor, unde venae videntur exire a corde, non transire per ipsum.

Cor fons est et principium sanguinis. Timothy - Early Greek Myth.