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[Assistant] In one sense, in the written tradition, we could have a significant level of conformity. But once we go into the oral tradition, ensuring conformity becomes a little more difficult.


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[Assistant] So what would be the boundaries of the creative license?


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[Assistant] I was also reading about Western intellectual history recently that how did


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[Assistant] Things, how did the West move towards atheism from theism? If you see in the 16th, 17th, 18th century, even the prominent scientists were all theists. So the conventional narrative is that as rationality started increasing, religion was rejected as irrational.


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[Assistant] The triumph of rationality led to the decline of religion.


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[Assistant] What the current historians are saying is that, or at least that is one prominent theory that is coming up.


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[Assistant] That uh, actually religion and spirituality are transmitted through the culture.


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[Assistant] And, while scientific rationality spread, along with that many other things happened, like industrialization happened, and the traditional family structure as well as the traditional societal structures that transmitted religion, they got destabilized.


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[Assistant] So when there is a joint family, then there is relatively many more channels through which, uh, stories can be told to children and religious culture can be transmitted.


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[Assistant] Because in one sense, if there is a community, then there are many sources for the oral tradition to be continued.


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[Assistant] But as families became fragmented from joint families to nuclear families, from nuclear families to even single parents, then the resources available for the oral transmission of


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[Assistant] If atheism has increased and religion has decreased, that is not so much because of the spread of rationality as it is because of the decline of the supportive structures for the spread of religion.


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[Assistant] So I think one of the significant supporting structures would also be the oral tradition.


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[Assistant] So, not only if there are smaller families, not only the parents don't have time to spend with their children.


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[Assistant] So much, but even parents don't have time to take the children to temples or church, this was more in the Christian context, to churches. So the oral tradition


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[Assistant] Okay, yes, so in one sense, materialism is telling its own stories, so if we consider


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[Assistant] Advertisements, in one sense they are fairy tales of materialism.


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[Assistant] People may dismiss, uh, modern skeptical people may say that in the past people believed fairy tales involving all kinds of unbelievable entities.


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[Assistant] It's creating a fiction associated with certain product and it's very sophisticatedly created fiction.


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[Assistant] Precisely materialism, as you said, two things, presented intellectually and then propagated technologically. Those two things, they are


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[Assistant] In fact, not only at a cultural level, it's glamourized at a cultural level, not just present, but not just prevalent, but also glamourized.


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[Assistant] I think that would be a difference between say one or two generations before and say the generation that are coming now. In the past, at least there was some difference toward some higher values.


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[Assistant] So toward tradition, even if there might not be personal follow, dedicated following, but at least, okay, this is something which is good, this is something to be venerated, but even that is getting lost now.


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[Assistant] He is talking about the theory of evolution, he said evolution made it possible to become an intellectually fulfilled atheist.


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[Assistant] So in one sense, we could say science and technology and they can be used as tools


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[Assistant] So what are the ways in, what do you think are the ways in today's scenario, uh, we as, we can play our part in both.


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[Assistant] Preserving and uh, propagating the oral tradition.


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[Assistant] Any thoughts, or if you have any other, I thought this could be like more of a, we could go toward a conclusion, or if you have any other thoughts, we can discuss those also.


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[Assistant] In what way are the checks and balances more in a oral tradition than in the written tradition? Because if you consider today's perspective, say, if say somebody speaks something in a class,


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[Assistant] We can always have hearsay what was spoken, what was not spoken, unless we have audio recording.


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[Assistant] But a written something, somebody has written something in a book, then it can be read, it can be seen in context. In general, if we consider in court of law,


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[Assistant] Is considered to be a much graver offense than something which is just spoken. Although spoken is also serious. So in my understanding, actually checking for, uh, for fidelity


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[Assistant] Would be easier when something is written because it is much more objectively documented. On the other hand, if somebody spoke something.


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[Assistant] And, but it is lost in the ether after it is spoken.


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[Assistant] How would the oral tradition, in fact from what I read from the historians of religion, they said that oral tradition allowed for a greater level of fluidity.


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[Assistant] So from that Matha to Mathadipati to their followers, there could be accurate transmission.


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[Assistant] But if you want standardization across a vast terrain, then


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[Assistant] Who is going to actually monitor things if they are not written down?


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[Assistant] In one sense written a, the language when it changes, both its written form changes and the oral form also changes.


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[Assistant] Okay, I was talking more from a general language perspective.


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[Assistant] Because written in general language, for example, if you consider English or Hindi or Marathi, if you consider Chaitanya Charita Amrut also, the Bengali of Chaitanya Charita Amrut


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[Assistant] Uh, level, both the spoken and the written language change, but when we are talking about Shruti, yes the sound will remain the same.


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[Assistant] That's beautiful, Shravanam Kirtanam Smaranam.


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[Assistant] This is very directly correlating with the sequence that Prahlad Mara describes, but that is also the way we, we actually assimilate things.


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[Assistant] You know, one last point may be about memorization and remembrance of Krishna at one level.


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[Assistant] But in general, if our ultimate purpose and perfection is Bhakti is to remember Krishna.


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[Assistant] So to some extent, for remembrance, a certain level of memory is required. It may not be factual memory in terms of facts and figures.


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[Assistant] But in ultimate sense, when we talk about a devotee being absorbed in the remembrance of Krishna, or pure devotee being completely absorbed in the remembrance of Krishna, uh, that remembrance


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[Assistant] It comes primarily through sound, as you quoted earlier.


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[Assistant] Largely through the contemplation on the sound and the relishing of the sound that eventually that absorption comes, isn't it, Maharaj?


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[Assistant] There are multiple resources that contribute to that cultivation of consciousness.


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[Assistant] And the oral tradition is one very valuable part, although it sometimes may be undervalued,


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[Assistant] We don't want to absolutize anything, we want to leverage or optimize all the resources that are available for us.


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[Assistant] Should I, should I try to summarize Maharaj what we spoke or would you like to add some things?


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[Assistant] It was a quite a broad discussion we had today about the importance of the oral tradition. So, we started by talking about how for us to understand scripture.


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[Assistant] We hear, we read books, we hear classes. Often hearing and reading both together can lead to deeper assimilation.


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[Assistant] For thousands and thousands of years, the recitation of Vedic mantras with an incredible amount of precision, it happened because of this oral tradition.


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[Assistant] And then we talked about the Akshara itself means imperishable.


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[Assistant] At one level, all sound is intrinsically a transcendental energy. At another level, depending on the consciousness of the person and the utilization, for what purpose it is being utilized, the transcendence will become manifested.


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[Assistant] And then we talked, especially in the Shruti, we have the Shuddhi of the Akshara, the Swara,


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[Assistant] So, at one level this is there in all languages, but in Sanskrit because it is connected with the Lord, so a higher potency is manifested. And so, we also talked about, if we consider the Ipihasas and the Puranas, at one level,


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[Assistant] There is a, there is a rigid or you can say there is a very accurate replication in the Shrutis, but that does not mean the Smrutis have to be downplayed. The Smrutis are also


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[Assistant] valuable in their own way and that very striking example of Jugo Swami, that is the Purana is that which makes Purna, the complete, then it has to have some non-difference from what it is completing. Lead cannot complete a golden ornament.


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[Assistant] So in that sense the, there is, there is a certain level of, certain kind of equality within the Smritis and the Shrutis.


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[Assistant] And the itihasas, while the puranas talk about diverse events, even from the past, purana, as in the past, pura, what happened in the past, as itihas is more in one sense contemporary.


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[Assistant] Both Ramayana, both Valmiki and Vyasadeva are parts of the book that they are writing, as it is happening or as it is recently happened.


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[Assistant] With respect to the oral tradition, we talk, you talked about how sometimes it is


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[Assistant] Uh, minimized or trivialized as rote memorization.


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[Assistant] Memorizing, if it is made into exciting, challenging, they have extraordinary capacity to memorize things and even learn several languages as you mentioned later.


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[Assistant] So if that, if memorization is not made like an intellectual burden, but it is made like a cultural experience,


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[Assistant] Then it can lead to lead to deep impressions which will flower in the future.


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[Assistant] And that knowledge can eventually be assimilated very easily.


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[Assistant] Even for us, for us adults, if something is memorized, then it is become more accessible. You quoted that Subhashita Pustakeshu.


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[Assistant] Memorization, we don't have to at one sense, either accurate pronunciation or a lot of extensive memorization. These are not


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[Assistant] Essential for devotion, Krishna can manifest independent of these, but that doesn't mean we dismiss them.


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[Assistant] To the extent that it is possible, we utilize them just like when we are cooking for Krishna. We try to do the best that we can.


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[Assistant] Although different people may have different levels of expertise in cooking, similarly different people may have different levels of expertise in memorizing or pronouncing, but we shouldn't trivialize it.


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[Assistant] That we started writing down but from a Vedic perspective it is somewhat a sign of decline.


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[Assistant] That we lost the capacity to assimilate and recollect internally and that's why we need external resources. And the written word is an external resource.


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[Assistant] So, these external resources, because today it is valuable, say the spoken word in the past had a lot of value, people would lay down their life to honour their word, but when that doesn't happen, today we need written documentation and even that people try to circumvent.


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[Assistant] It's a, it's a, say we could say both an intellectual and a moral decline that is there in today's world.


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[Assistant] Uh, and so we recognize the importance of the written word in today's world.


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[Assistant] is vital and then you talk about two strands of the oral tradition.


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[Assistant] One is broadly the Shruti which is, which is exact replication.


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[Assistant] And the other is the cultural, artistic, creative aspect through drama, through poetry, through like the


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[Assistant] So, there is a lot of room for artistic license.


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[Assistant] So, across the world storytelling has been an important part of the transmission of culture.


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[Assistant] And in our tradition there are scripture stories and then there are stories which are of values which are in conformity with scriptures.


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[Assistant] So what we, what can, so with respect to fidelity,


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[Assistant] There is no system, there can be no foolproof system for maintaining fidelity if there is no integrity among people, but broadly speaking,


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[Assistant] When there is a higher level of integrity among people, then the oral tradition ensures a greater, greater, it has a greater check balance system.


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[Assistant] of that loss of the oral, decline in the oral tradition and


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[Assistant] And then we try to continue it in our own ways, in our families, in our social circles.


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[Assistant] So we'll hear verses, recite verses, memorize verses.


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[Assistant] We draw on various resources for increasing our connection with and our absorption in Krishna. So the oral tradition has been an invaluable resource throughout history.


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[Assistant] And we shouldn't, we shouldn't undervalue or lose it in today's world. And we talked about contemporary ways in which it is happening also say.


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[Assistant] Like virtually in today's world through technology we are having.


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[Assistant] The oral tradition, we are having podcasts and audio books. So these are also mediums that we as devotees can tap in keeping the, uh, the Karana parampara as you said. So oral and oral.


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[Assistant] And that's how we can also continue this beautiful tradition. Any concluding points Maharaj or anything I left out?


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[Assistant] Thank you Vahraj for your time and your association. I look forward to having your online future also sometime.


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[Assistant] Wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous, and the middle-aged lady apprehensive,


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[Assistant] Which brings the Piquickians within the grasp of the law.


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[Assistant] When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter Magnus had spent the preceding evening,


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[Assistant] He found that gentleman with the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leather hat box, and the brown paper parcel displayed to all possible advantage on his person, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in a state of the utmost excitement and agitation. Good morning, sir, said Mr. Peter Magmus. What do you think of this, sir?


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[Assistant] Very effective indeed, replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the garments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile. Yes, I think it'll do, said Mr. Magnus. Mr. Pickwick, sir, I have sent up my card. Have you?


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[Assistant] Said Mr. Bigwick. And the waiter brought backward that she would see me at eleven. At eleven, sir! It only wants a quarter now!


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[Assistant] Then in near the time, said Mr. Pickwick, yes, it is rather near, replied Mr. Magnus, rather too near to be pleasant, eh, Mr. Pickwick, sir?


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[Assistant] I believe it is, sir, said Mr. Peter Magnus. I am very confident, sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, sir? There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more, husband on one side, wife on the other. That's my view of the matter, Mr. Pickwick.


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[Assistant] It's a very philosophical one, replied Mr. Pickwick. But breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus, come. Down they sat till breakfast.


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[Assistant] But it was evident, notwithstanding the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a very considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a propensity to upset the key things,


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[Assistant] A spectral attempt at droolery and an irresistible inclination to look at the clock every other second were among the principal symptoms.


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[Assistant] Tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness and gasping with agitation. It only wants two minutes Mr. Pickwick. Am I pale sir? Not fairly, replied Mr. Pickwick. There was a brief pause.


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[Assistant] I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick, but have you ever done this sort of thing in your time? Said Mr. Magnus. You mean proposing? Said Mr. Pickwick. Yes. Never! Said Mr. Pickwick with great energy. Never. You have no idea then how it's best to begin? Said Mr. Magnus.


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[Assistant] Why, said Mr. Pickwick, I may have formed some ideas upon the subject, but as I have never submitted them to the test of experience, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate your proceedings by them.


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[Assistant] I should feel very much obliged to you for any advice sir, said Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of which was verging on the five minutes past.


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[Assistant] Well, uh, I said Mr. Pickwick with the profound solemnity with which that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply impressive. I should convince, uh,


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[Assistant] From them sir, I shall diverge to my own unworthiness. Very good.


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[Assistant] Said Mr. Magnus, unworthiness for her only mind, sir. Resumed Mr. Pickwick, for to show that I was not wholly unworthy, sir, I should take a brief review of my past life and present condition. I should argue by analogy that to anybody else I must be a very desirable object.


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[Assistant] I should then expatiate on the warmth of my love and the depth of my devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand.


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[Assistant] Said Mr. Magnus, because if she did not do that at the right place, it would be embarrassing. I think she would, said Mr. Pickwick.


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[Assistant] Upon this, sir, I should squeeze her hand, and I think, I think, Mr. Magnus, that after I've done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away the handkerchief.


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[Assistant] Which my slight knowledge of human nature leads me to suppose the lady would be applying to her eyes at the moment and steal a respectful kiss.


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[Assistant] And the small hand of the clock, following the latter part of his example, had arrived at the figure which indicates the half hour when the door suddenly opened.


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[Assistant] He turned round to meet Mr. Peter Magnus and encountered in his stead the joyous face of Mr. Tupman, the serene countenance of Mr. Winkle, and the intellectual lineaments of Mr. Snodgrass.


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[Assistant] As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus stripped into the room.


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[Assistant] My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of, Mr. Magnus, said Mr. Pickwick. Your servant, gentlemen.


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[Assistant] As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr. Pickwick's buttonhole, and drawing him to a window recess, said, Congratulate me, Mr. Pickwick. I followed your advice to the very letter. And it was all correct, was it? inquired Mr. Pickwick. It was, sir.


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[Assistant] Could not possibly have been better, replied Mr. Magnus. Mr. Pickwick, she is mine.


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[Assistant] I congratulate you with all my heart, replied Mr. Pickwick, warmly shaking his new friend by the hand. You must see her, sir, said Mr. Magnus. This way, if you please. Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen.


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[Assistant] He paused at the next door in the passage and tapped gently there at. Come in, said a female voice, and in they went. Miss Witherfield.


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[Assistant] Said Mr. Magnus, allow me to introduce my very particular friend Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to make you known to Miss Witherfield. The lady was at the upper end of the room.


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[Assistant] A process which he had no sooner gone through than, uttering an exclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreated several paces, and the lady, with a half suppressed scream, hit her face in her hands and dropped into a chair.


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[Assistant] Whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was stricken motionless on the spot and gazed from one to the other with accountants expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise.


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[Assistant] But the fact is that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles than he had once recognized in the future Mrs. Magnus the lady into whose room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night.


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[Assistant] You decline it, sir? Said Mr. Magnus. I do, sir. Replied Mr. Pickwick. I object to saying anything which may compromise that lady or awaken unpleasant recollections in her breast without her consent and permission. Miss Witherfield? Said Mr. Peter Magnus. Do you know this person? Know him?


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[Assistant] Repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating. Yes, know him, mom. I said, know him. Replied Mr. Magnus with ferocity. I have seen him.


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[Assistant] I understand you ma'am, said Mr. Pickwick, and respect your delicacy. It shall never be revealed by me, depend upon it.


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[Assistant] Oh, you alone are to blame, are you, sir? Said Mr. Magnus. I, I see through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you? My determination?


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[Assistant] Answer what? Said Mr. Pickwick. Never mind, sir. Replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room. Never mind.


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[Assistant] For we do not recollect who ever witnessed a quarrel in the street, at a theatre, a public room, or elsewhere, in which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries.


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[Assistant] Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir? Never mind, sir.


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[Assistant] Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir? Never mind, sir.


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[Assistant] Do you want your head knocked up against that wall, sir? Never mind, sir. It is observable, too, that there would appear to be some hidden taunt in this universal never mind, which rouses more indignation in the bosom of the individual addressed than the most lavish abuse could possibly awaken.


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[Assistant] We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to himself struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul which it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast.


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[Assistant] We merely record the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door and abruptly called out, Tuckman, come here.


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[Assistant] Mr. Topman immediately presented himself with a look of very considerable surprise. Topman, said Mr. Pickwick, a secret of some delicacy in which that lady is concerned is the cause of a difference which has just arisen between this gentleman and myself.


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[Assistant] As Mr. Pickwick said this, he looked encyclopedias at Mr. Peter Magnus.


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[Assistant] Mr. Pickwick's upright and honorable bearing, coupled with that force and energy of speech, which so eminently distinguished him, would have carried conviction to any reasonable mind. But unfortunately at that particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in anything but reasonable order.


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[Assistant] Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick's explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith proceeded to work himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, and to talk about what was due to his own feelings and all that sort of thing, adding force to his declamation by striding to and fro and pulling his hair.


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[Assistant] Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence and rectitude, and irritated by having unfortunately involved the middle-aged lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly disposed as was his won't.


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[Assistant] The consequence was that words ran high and voices higher. And at length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he should hear from him. To which Mr. Pickwick replied with laudable politeness that the sooner he heard from him the better.


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[Assistant] Whereupon the middle-aged lady rushed in terror from the room, out of which Mr. Tupman dragged Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr. Peter Magnus to himself and meditation.


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[Assistant] If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, or had profited at all by the manners and customs of those who make the laws and set the fashions,


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[Assistant] But as she had lived for the most part in the country, and never read the parliamentary debates,


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[Assistant] The most terrific pictures of slaughter and destruction presented themselves to her imagination. Among which, a full length portrait of Mr. Peter Magnus, born home by four men, with the embellishment of a whole barrel full of bullets in his left side, was among the very least.


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[Assistant] And at length, she determined to repair to the house of the principal magistrate of the town and request him to secure the persons of Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman without delay.


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[Assistant] The chief of which was the incontestable proof it would afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus and her anxiety for his safety.


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[Assistant] And she trusted to her own influence and power of persuasion with the little man to quell his boisterous jealousy, supposing that Mr. Pickwick were removed and no fresh quarrel could arise.


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[Assistant] Filled with these reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed herself in her bonnet and shawl and repaired to the mayor's dwelling straightway.


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[Assistant] Which being, according to the Almanacs, the longest day in the whole year, would naturally afford him the longest period for his search.


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[Assistant] On this particular morning, Mr. Nutkins was in a state of the utmost excitement and irritation.


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[Assistant] For there had been a rebellion in the town. All the day scholars at the largest day school had conspired to break the windows of an obnoxious apple cellar and had hooted the beadle and pelted the constabulary.


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[Assistant] An elderly gentleman in top boots who had been called out to repress the tumult and who had been a peace officer man and boy for half a century at least.


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[Assistant] And Mr. Muppkins was sitting in his easy chair, frowning with majesty and boiling with rage, when a lady was announced on pressing private and particular business.


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[Assistant] Which command, like all the mandates of emperors and magistrates and other great potentates of the earth, was forthwith obeyed. And Miss Witherfield, interestingly agitated, was ushered in accordingly. Mahzoh! said the magistrate.


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[Assistant] Muzzle was an undersized footman with a long body and short legs. Muzzle? Yes, your worship. Place your chair and leave the room. Yes, your worship. Now Bob, will you state your business? Said the magistrate. It is of a very painful kind, sir.


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[Assistant] That said, Mr. Witherfield. Very likely, ma'am, said the magistrate. Compose your feelings, ma'am. Here, Mr. Knupkins looked...reignant.


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[Assistant] And then tell me what legal business brings you here, man. Here the magistrate triumphed over the man, and he looked stern again.


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[Assistant] It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information, said Mrs. Weatherfield, but I fear a duel is going to be fought here. Here, ma'am, said the magistrate. Where, ma'am?


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[Assistant] In Ipswich. In Ipswich, ma'am. A duel in Ipswich, said the magistrate, perfectly aghast at the notion. Impossible, ma'am. Nothing of the kind can be contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless my soul, ma'am. Are you aware of the activity of our local magistracy?


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[Assistant] I do not think, said the magistrate, reasoning with himself.


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[Assistant] What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinx? said the magistrate. Mr. Jinx looked serious instantly. Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate, you're a fool.


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[Assistant] That being ordered to take the lady's information, shambled to a seat and proceeded to write it down. This man Pickwick is the principal I understand, said the magistrate when the statement was finished. He is


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[Assistant] Introducing the elderly gentleman in the top boots, who is chiefly remarkable for a bottlenose, a hoarse voice, a snuff-coloured surtout and a wandering eye. Grummer, said the magistrate, your washer? Is the town quiet now? Pretty well, your washer, replied Grummer.


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[Assistant] Mr. Grummer, intimated by a retrospective shake of the head, that he should never forget it, as indeed it was not likely he would, so long as it continued to be cited daily.


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[Assistant] This is even more unconstitutional, said the magistrate. This is even a greater breach of the peace and a grosser infringement of His Majesty's prerogative.


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[Assistant] I believe dueling is one of His Majesty's most undoubted prerogatives, Mr. Jinx. Expressly stipulated in Magna Carta, sir.


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[Assistant] So the magistrate, drawing himself up proudly, it shall not be violated in this portion of his dominions. Grammer, procure assistance and execute these warrants with as little delay as possible. Muzzle? Yes, your worship. Show the lady out. Miss Witherfield retired, deeply impressed with the magistrate's learning and research. Mr. Nutkins retired to lunch.


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[Assistant] Mr. Jinx retired within himself, that being the only retirement he had, except the sofa bedstead and the small parlour which was occupied by his landlady's family in the daytime.


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[Assistant] And Mr. Grammer retired to wipe out, by his mode of discharging his present commission, the insult which had been fastened upon himself and the other representative of His Majesty, the Beedle, in the course of the morning.


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[Assistant] While these resolute and determined preparations for the conservation of the king's peace were pending, Mr. Pickwick and his friends, wholly unconscious of the mighty events in progress, had sat quietly down to dinner, and very talkative and companionable they all were.


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[Assistant] Mr. Pickwick was in the very act of relating his adventure of the preceding night to the great amusement of his followers, Mr. Tupman especially, when the door opened


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[Assistant] And a somewhat forbidding countenance peeped into the room.


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[Assistant] For the body into which the forbidden countenance belonged slowly brought itself into the apartment


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[Assistant] And presented the form of an elderly individual in top boots.


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[Assistant] Not to keep the reader any longer in suspense. In short, the eyes were the wandering eyes of Mr. Grummer, and the body was the body of the same gentleman. Mr. Grummer's mode of proceeding was professional, but peculiar.


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[Assistant] To place his hat with the cotton handkerchief in it on the nearest chair and his fourth.


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[Assistant] To produce from the breast pocket of his coat a short puncture surmounted by a brazen crown with which he beckoned to Mr. Pickwick with a grave and ghost-like air.


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[Assistant] He looked steadily at Mr. Grammer for a brief space, and then said emphatically, This is a private room, sir. A private room. Mr. Grammer shook his head and replied,


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[Assistant] Some people maintains that an Englishman's house is his castle. That's gammon. The Pickwickians gazed at each other with wondering eyes. Which is Mr. Tupman? Inquired Mr. Grummer.


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[Assistant] Civil power and executive. Them's my titles. Here's my authority. Blank Tupman. Blank Pigwick. Against the peace of our suffering Lord the King. Statted in that case made and provided and all regular. I apprehend you, Pigwick. Tupman, the aforesaid. What do you mean by this insolence? Said Mr. Tupman, starting off. Leave the room, I hope.


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[Assistant] Said Mr. Grammar, retreating very expeditiously to the door, and opening at an inch or two. Doubly! Well!


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[Assistant] Set a deep voice for the passage. Come forward, doubly!


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[Assistant] At the word of command, a dirty-faced man, something over six feet high and stout in proportion, squeezed himself through the half-open door, making his face very red in the process, and entered the room. Is the other specials outside, Doubly? inquired Mr. Grummer. Mr. Doubly, who was a man of few words, nodded ascent. Order in the division under your charge, Doubly, said Mr. Grummer.


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[Assistant] Mr. Dudley did as he was desired, and half a dozen men, each with a short truncheon and a brass crown, flocked into the room.


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[Assistant] Mr. Grubber pocketed his staff and looked at Mr. Doubly. Mr. Doubly pocketed his staff and looked at the Division. The Division pocketed their staves and looked at Messrs. Tupman and Pickwick.


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[Assistant] What is the meaning of this atrocious intrusion upon my privacy? Said Mr. Pickwick. Who dares apprehend me? Said Mr. Tupman. What do you want here, Stamrels? Said Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Winkle said nothing.


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[Assistant] But he fixed his eyes on grammar, and bestowed a look upon him, which, if he had had any feeling, must have pierced his brain.


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[Assistant] As it was, however, it had no visible effect upon him, whatever.


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[Assistant] When the executive perceived that Mr. Pickwick and his friends were disposed to resist the authority of the law, they very significantly turned up their coat sleeves, as if knocking them down in the first instance and taking them up afterwards, were a mere professional act which had only to be thought of to be done as a matter of course. This demonstration was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He conferred a few moments with Mr. Tapman apart,


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[Assistant] We're at the parties, then their assembled laughed very harshly. With the single exception of Mr. Grammer.


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[Assistant] Who seemed to consider that any slight cast upon the divine right of magistrates was a species of blasphemy not to be tolerated.


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[Assistant] A difficulty arose which had not been foreseen.


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[Assistant] As resolutely protested against walking on the opposite side of the way and taking Mr. Pickwick's parole. That he would go straight to the magistrates. And both Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman as strenuously objected to the expense of a post coach.


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[Assistant] Which was the only respectable conveyance that could be obtained. The dispute ran high, and the dilemma lasted long.


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[Assistant] And just as the executive were on the point of overcoming Mr. Pickwick's objection to walking to the magistrates by the trite expedient of carrying him nither,


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[Assistant] It was recollected that there stood in the inn yard an old sedan chair, which, having been originally built for a gouty gentleman with funded property, would hold Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman at least as conveniently as a modern post chaise. The chair was hired and brought into the hall.


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[Assistant] Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman squeezed themselves inside and pulled down the blinds. A couple of chairmen were speedily found, and the procession started in grand order.


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[Assistant] The specials surrounded the body of the vehicle. Mr. Gramard and Mr. Dudley marched triumphantly in front.


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[Assistant] Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle walked arm in arm behind, and the unsoaked of Ipswich brought up the rear.


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[Assistant] The shopkeepers of the town, although they had a very distinct notion of the nature of the offence,


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[Assistant] Both the criminals, by their united efforts, were securely shut up in the narrow compass of one sedan chair.


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[Assistant] Many were the expressions of approval and admiration which greeted Mr. Grummer as he headed the cavalcade staff in hand.


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[Assistant] When, raising his eyes, he beheld a crowd pouring down the street,


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[Assistant] Willing to divert his thoughts from the failure of his enterprise, he stepped aside to see the crowd pass.


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[Assistant] And finding that they were cheering away very much to their own satisfaction, Forthwith began, by way of raising his spirits, to cheer too, with all his might and main.


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[Assistant] Mr. Grammar passed. And Mr. Dudley passed. And the sedan passed. And the bodyguard of specials passed.


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[Assistant] And Sam was still responding to the enthusiastic cheers of the mob and waving his hat about as if he were in the very last extreme of the wildest joy, though of course he had not the faintest idea of the matter in hand.


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[Assistant] When he was suddenly stopped by the unexpected appearance of Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass.


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[Assistant] Watch the rail, gentlemen, cried Sam. Who have they got in this here watch-boxing morning? Both gentlemen replied together, but their words were lost in the tumult. Who? cried Sam again. Once more was a joint reply returned.


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[Assistant] And though the words were inaudible, Sam saw by the motion of the two pairs of lips that they had uttered the magic word, Pickwick. This was enough.


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[Assistant] In another minute, Mr Weller had made his way through the crowd, stopped the chairmen, and confronted the portly grandma.


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[Assistant] But I should prefer you giving me an answer to my question if it's all the same to you. How are you, sir?


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[Assistant] This last observation was addressed with a patronising air to Mr. Pickwick, who was peeping through the front window. Mr. Grummer.


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[Assistant] A compliment which Mr Weller returned by knocking him down out of hand.


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[Assistant] Having previously, with the utmost consideration, knocked down a chairman for him to lie upon.


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[Assistant] Whether Mr. Winkle was seized with a temporary attack of that species of insanity which originates in a sense of injury or animated by this display of Mr. Weller's valour is uncertain, but certain it is that he no sooner saw Mr. Grummer fall than he made a terrific onslaught on a small boy who stood next to him.


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[Assistant] Whereupon Mr. Snodgrass, in a truly Christian spirit, and in order that he might take no one unawares, announced in a very loud tone that he was going to begin.


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[Assistant] And proceeded to take off his coat with the utmost deliberation. He was immediately surrounded and secured.


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[Assistant] And it is but common justice, both to him and Mr. Winkle, to say that they did not make the slightest attempt to rescue either themselves or Mr. Weller, who, after the most vigorous resistance, was overpowered by numbers and taken prisoner. The procession then reformed. The chairmen resumed their stations, and the march was recommenced.


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[Assistant] Mr. Pickwick's indignation during the whole of this proceeding was beyond all bounds.


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[Assistant] He could just see Sam upsetting the specials and flying about in every direction, and that was all he could see. For the sedan doors wouldn't open and the blinds wouldn't pull up.


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[Assistant] And mounting on the seat and steadying himself as well as he could by placing his hand on that gentleman's shoulder, Mr. Pickwick proceeded to address the multitude.


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[Assistant] Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back everybody to another chapter of a court of wings and ruin written by


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[Assistant] Free water with the exclamation point or the added emphasis. Y'all we're back here today after a crazy chapter. It was a, it was a quick one too, but it was crazy. What the heck is Hibern doing in here, baby? Tell me, tell me what is, how did they, who is the, who's the rat? Don't tell me it's Lucian.


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[Assistant] Don't, if it's solution, I'm gonna burn this whole place to the ground.


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[Assistant] It seems very possible, the fact that he went off to wanna go do his own thing.


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[Assistant] By himself, I had some time to think about it since yesterday. And in my brain, I'm like, no.


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[Assistant] No, no, no, no, no, no, no. It better not be Lucian. I feel like they're gonna be like, worried it was him, and he's gonna be like, nah, it wasn't me. And then they're gonna trust him again, and then he's gonna be like, actually, JK, it was me or something.


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[Assistant] You know, I'm just worried it's the spring court. They already sold them out once. So I guess we just got to get back into it and figure out what happens in chapter 31.


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[Assistant] I doubted the king's ravens were stupid enough to be kept talking long enough for my powers to return. And if the king was indeed here, I had to warn everyone. Immediately. It left me with three choices.


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[Assistant] Take them on in hand to hand combat with only a knife when they were each armed with twin blades and were muscled enough to know how to use them.


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[Assistant] Make a run for it and try to get out of the library and risk the lives and further trauma of the priestesses in the levels above. Or? Nesta was saying to them,


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[Assistant] If he wants what I took, he can come get it himself.


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[Assistant] He's too busy to bother. The white haired male purred, advancing another step. Apparently you're not.


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[Assistant] I gripped Nesta's fingers in my free hand. She glanced at me.


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[Assistant] I need you to trust me. I need to con- I tried to convey to her.


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[Assistant] Nesta read the emotion in my eyes and gave the barest dip of her chin.


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[Assistant] I said them, you made a grave mistake coming here. To my house. They snickered. I gave them a returning smirk as I did.


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[Assistant] And I hope it rips you to bloody ribbons. Then I ran, hauling Nesta with me, not toward the upper levels, but down.


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[Assistant] Down into the eternal blackness of the pit at the heart of the library and into the arms of whatever lurked inside.


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[Assistant] Around and down, around and down, shelves and paper and furniture and darkness, the smell turning musty and damp, the air thickening, the darkness like dew on my skin.


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[Assistant] Nesta's breath was ragged, her skirts wrestling with each sprinting step we took. Time.


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[Assistant] Only a matter of time before one of those priestesses contacted Rise. But even a minute might be too late. There was no choice. None.


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[Assistant] Bay lights stopped appearing ahead. Low, hideous laughter trickled behind us. Not so easy, is it? To find your way in the dark.


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[Assistant] Don't stop. I pan it to Nesta, flinging us farther into the dark.


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[Assistant] A high-pitched scratching sound, like talons on stone, one of the ravens crooned. Do you know what happened to them? The queens?


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[Assistant] Keep going, I breathed, gripping a hand against the wall to remain rooted. Soon. We'd reach the bottom soon and then.


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[Assistant] And then face some horror awful enough that Cassian wouldn't speak of it. The lesser of two evils were the worst of them. The youngest one.


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[Assistant] Hinched face bitch went into the cauldron first. That practically trampled the others to get in after it saw what it did to you and your sister.


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[Assistant] Don't stop. I repeat as Nesta stumbled. If I go down, you run.


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[Assistant] That was a choice that I did not need to debate. That did not frighten me. Not for a heartbeat.


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[Assistant] Don't scream beneath twin sets of talons. But the cauldron!


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[Assistant] Oh, it knew that something had to be taken from it. Not sentient, but it knew.


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[Assistant] It was furious. When that young queen went in. The ravens laughed, laughed as the slope leveled out and we found ourselves at the bottom of the library. Oh, it gave her immortality.


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[Assistant] It made her fey, but since something had been taken from it, the cauldron took what she valued most, her youth.


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[Assistant] They snickered again. A young woman went in, but a withered crone came out.


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[Assistant] And from the catacombs of my memory, Elaine's voice sounded. Saw young hands wither with age.


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[Assistant] The other queens won't go into the cauldron for terror of the same happening now. And the youngest one. Oh, you should hear how she talks, Nesta Acheron. The thing she wants to do to you when Highburn is done. When ravens are coming. Elaine had known. Sensed it. Had tried to warn us.


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[Assistant] We're growing bored of this pursuit, one of them said. Our master's waiting for us to retrieve you.


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[Assistant] I snorted loudly enough for them to hear. I'm shocked he could even muster the strength to break the wards. He seems to need a trove of magical objects to do his work for him.


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[Assistant] The other one hissed, talons scratching louder. Whose spellbook do you think Amarantha stole many decades ago?


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[Assistant] Who suggested the amusement of sticking the masks to Spring's faces as punishment?


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[Assistant] Another little spell, the one he burned through today to crack through your wards here.


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[Assistant] Only once could it be wielded. Such a pity.


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[Assistant] I studied the faint trickle of light I could make out, far away and high up.


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[Assistant] Run toward the light, I breathe the nesta. I'll hold them off. No. Don't try to be noble. If that's what you're whispering about, one of the ravens called from behind, we'll catch you. We'll catch you both anyway. We didn't have time.


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[Assistant] For whatever was down here to find us, we didn't have the time. Run! I breathed, please!


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[Assistant] She hesitated. Please! I begged her, my voice breaking.


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[Assistant] Nesta squeezed my hand once and between one breath and the next she bolted to the side toward the center of the pit. The light high above.


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[Assistant] What? One of them snapped, but I struck.


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[Assistant] Every bone in my body barked in pain as I slammed into one of the stacks. Then again, again,


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[Assistant] Until it teetered and fell, collapsing onto the one beside it. And the next. And the next. Blocking the way Nesta had gone. And any chance of my exit too.


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[Assistant] Wood groaned and snapped, books thudded on stone, but ahead.


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[Assistant] I clawed and patted the wall as I plunged farther into the pit floor. My magic was a husk in my veins.


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[Assistant] We'll catch her. Don't worry. One of them crooned. Wouldn't want dear sisters to be separated. Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? I didn't see the wall in front of me. My teeth sang as I collided face first. I patted blindly. Feeling for a break. A corner. The wall continued on. Dead end. It was a dead end.


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[Assistant] Nowhere to go down here, lady, one of them said.


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[Assistant] I kept moving, gritting my teeth, gauging the power still frozen inside me.


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[Assistant] Not even an ember to someone to light the way, to show where I was, to show any holes ahead.


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[Assistant] The terror of it had my bones locking up. No, no! Keep moving! Keep going!


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[Assistant] I reached out desperate for a bookshelf to grab. Surely they wouldn't put a shelf near a gaping hole in the earth.


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[Assistant] Empty blackness met my fingers, slipped between them again and again. I stumbled a step. Leather met my fingers. Solid leather.


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[Assistant] I fumbled, the hard spines of books meeting my palms and bit down my sob of relief. A lifeline, in a violent sea. I felt my way down the stack, running now. It ended too soon.


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[Assistant] I took another blind step forward, touched my way around a corner of another stack, just as the ravens hissed with displeasure. The sound said enough. They'd lost me, for a moment.


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[Assistant] I inched along, keeping my back to a shelf, calming my heaving lungs until my breaths became near silent. Please. I breathed into the dark, barely more than a whisper. Please help me. In the distance, a boom shuddered through the ancient floor.


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[Assistant] High lady of the night court, one of the ravens sang. What sort of cage shall our king build for you? Fear would get me killed. Fear would. A soft voice whispered in my ear. You're the high lady.


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[Assistant] The voice was both young and old, hideous and beautiful. Yes, I whispered. I could sense no body heat, detect no physical presence, but I felt it behind me.


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[Assistant] Even with my back to the shelf I felt the mass of it lurking behind me, around me, like a shroud. We can smell you, the other raven said.


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[Assistant] Never make a bargain, Alice had once warned me before under the mountain. Even if the bargains I'd made, they'd saved us and brought me to rise. What do you want?


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[Assistant] One of the ravens snapped. Who's she talking to? The stone and wind here all.


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[Assistant] Speak all they whispered to me of your desire to wield the Carver, to trade. My breath came hard and fast. What of it? I knew him once, long ago, before so many things crawled the earth.


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[Assistant] The ravens were close. Far too close when one of them hissed. What is she mumbling? Does she know a spell as the master did? I whispered to the lurking dark behind me. What is your price?


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[Assistant] Raven's footsteps sounded so nearby. They couldn't have been more than 20 feet away. Who are you talking to? One of them demanded company. Send me company. I opened my mouth, but then said to eat a laugh that made my skin crawl to tell me of life.


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[Assistant] The air had shifted as the highburn ravens closed in. There you are, one sieve.


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[Assistant] It's a bargain. I breathe. The skin along my left forearm tingled. The thing behind me. I could have sworn I felt it smile. Shall I kill them? Please do.


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[Assistant] Light sputtered before me, and I blinked at the blinding ball of faelite.


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[Assistant] I saw the twin ravens first, that faillite at their shoulder to illuminate me for their taking. Their attention went to me, then rose over my shoulder my head.


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[Assistant] Absolute unfiltered terror filled their faces at what stood behind me. Close your eyes. The thing purred in my ear. I obeyed, trembling.


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[Assistant] Then all I heard was screaming, high-pitched shrieking and pleading, bones snapping, blood splattering like rain cloth, ripping and screaming, screaming, scream.


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[Assistant] I squeezed my eyes shut so hard it hurt. Squeezed them shut so hard I was shaking.


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[Assistant] And there were warm, rough hands on me, dragging me away and Cassian's voice in my ear saying, don't look, don't look. I didn't.


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[Assistant] I let him lead me away, just as I felt rise arrive, felt him land on the floor of the pit so hard the entire mountain shuddered.


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[Assistant] I opened my eyes then, found him storming toward us, night rippling off him, such fury on his face. Get them out! The order was given to Cassian.


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[Assistant] The screaming was still erupting behind us, I lurched toward Ryze, but he was already gone, a plume of darkness spreading from him, to shield the view of what he walked into. Knowing I would look, the screaming stopped.


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[Assistant] In terrible silence, Cassian hauled me out toward the dim center of the pit.


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[Assistant] Nesta was standing, their arms around herself, eyes wide.


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[Assistant] Cassian only stretched out an arm for her, as if in a trance, she walked right to his side, his arms tightened around both of us, siphons flaring, gilding the darkness with blood red light. Then we launched skyward, just as the screaming began anew. And that, my friends, was the end of chapter 31.


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[Assistant] Okay, we made it. We made it out. That's good.


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[Assistant] So it doesn't seem like, okay, it doesn't seem like it was Lucian at the top of what we've been told, so the King of Highburn just used like a little spell to break the ward.


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[Assistant] That it's trickery and sneakery, but I'm still curious as to why Lucian was so excited or so ready to just spend time by himself.


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[Assistant] Besides the fact that maybe he just wanted to spend time by himself.


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[Assistant] But in this world, it's always, you know, you think that there's got to be some other meaning to it now.


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[Assistant] So I'm just trying to get in my head that there's probably like a, like a double agent on the inside. Maybe it's just a random shop keep. Maybe it's, maybe it's cloth though. Who knows?


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[Assistant] But otherwise y'all, I'm, I'm excited for this next chapter. I'm going to try and read it today and this will be ones that are coming from the following week that I'm reading. But overall, I just want to show me, stay beautiful, stay hydrated, and we will see you in the next chapter. Bye.


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[Assistant] Whether you travel north, south, east or west, the British landscape is as varied as it is lovely. And for the great authors of English literature, the countryside has always provided a rich tapestry of inspiration.


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[Assistant] From the Kent of Charles Dickens to the Hampshire of Jane Austen, there's always somewhere fascinating to visit. And with D.H. Lawrence's Nottinghamshire, George Eliot's Warwickshire.


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[Assistant] And Thomas Hardy's Wessex, there's no shortage of locations.


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[Assistant] But when it comes to wild, dramatic moors, it has to be the Brontes Yorkshire. I'm Liam Dale, and I'd be delighted to show you around.


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[Assistant] I promised you wild, and I think you'll agree, this landscape is certainly that, and a great deal more besides.


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[Assistant] This is Howethmore, and if I tell you that this is where Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte, along with their brother Branwell, played as children, you'll instantly recognize where the inspiration for such dark brooding romantic classics as Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall came from.


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[Assistant] But wonderful as these great novels might be, the story of the three sisters is equally as fascinating. And if we take the path across the moor to the town of Howarth and the parsonage at the top of the hill where the Brontes lived, you can see for yourself how this tragic and turbulent tale unfolds.


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[Assistant] By the time the girls moved to Howarth, when their father, the Reverend Patrick Bronte, was appointed the perpetual curate of Saint Michael and all angels, the family was definitely prospering. And you may be surprised to learn that there were two older sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, as well as our future authors.


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[Assistant] Maria had just turned six, Elizabeth was five, Charlotte's brother Branwell and Emily had been born in consecutive years, followed by Anne, who was just a few weeks old when the Brontes arrived here in February 1820.


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[Assistant] As Mrs. Bronte was kept busy with her brood of six children, her husband settled into his new parish, and his parishioners would have quickly realized that their new vicar was quite a unique character.


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[Assistant] Born into poverty in Ireland, young Patrick Brunty, as the family were known, was determined to make his way in the world despite being one of ten children.


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[Assistant] He was a clever boy and quickly realized that education was the best way to achieve his ambitions.


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[Assistant] Even so, being accepted at Cambridge to study at St. John's College was remarkable. And as well as taking up a promising career in the church, Patrick also had aspirations to become a published author.


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[Assistant] He was actually quite an accomplished poet. No doubt believed that changing his surname to the grander sounding Bronte might help him progress.


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[Assistant] When his studies were complete, Patrick served as a curate, first in Essex and then Shropshire, before moving to Yorkshire.


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[Assistant] After a brief stay at Dewsbury, Patrick Bronte came here to Hartshead in 1811. It was an interesting time. Hartshead was at the epicentre of the Luddite protests. Many of Patrick's parishioners were part of the movement, rebelling violently against industrial progress.


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[Assistant] The threat to the mill owners in the area from workers who'd been laid off as a result of new machinery was deadly, and even the Reverend Bronte found it sensible to keep a loaded pistol to hand at all times.


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[Assistant] In later years, the Bronte children would be fascinated by their father's tales of the Luddites. Charlotte would actually use Patrick's reminiscences to form the plot of her novel, Shirley.


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[Assistant] As the trouble subsided and peace was restored, Patrick found himself well respected and settled in the parish, and at the age of 35 turned his thoughts to marriage.


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[Assistant] When he met the lively, Cornish-born Maria Branwell, the niece of an old friend, romance soon blossomed, and the happy couple were married in 1812.


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[Assistant] The family quickly grew with the births of daughters Maria and Elizabeth, but the ambitious Patrick, after four years, was ready to advance his career and was appointed as perpetual curate at Thornton Church, a short distance away.


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[Assistant] The church may not have been the prettiest, nor the accommodation provided for the Bronte family the grandest, but they soon settled happily into their new parish.


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[Assistant] If you take a closer look at the house they lived in, 74 Market Street, you'll see that there were four new additions to the family in quick succession. Charlotte was born in 1816. Brother Branwell in 1817.


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[Assistant] These were happy days. Patrick even enjoyed some local literary success with his poetry and prose, while his wife relished a delightfully busy social life amongst her friends and neighbours.


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[Assistant] But this was far from being a large house and with six growing children, not to mention a couple of servants. It wasn't long before the Reverend Bronte, ambitious as ever, was looking around for a bigger parish, an increased stipend, and a more appropriate property to cater for his domestic arrangements.


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[Assistant] So when the living at Haworth, just five miles away, became vacant, complete with its large Georgian parsonage backing onto the moors, it was time to exchange the cozy comforts of Thornton for the wild landscape that would inspire such great literary creations.


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[Assistant] What a pleasure it must have been for the Bronte family to arrive here, although as for us today, in January 1820, it might well have been a tad chilly.


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[Assistant] But it's immediately evident that this substantial property was built to withstand whatever the weather threw its way. Getting on for 200 years later, what is now the Bronte Parsonage Museum is as welcoming as ever for visitors from all over the world.


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[Assistant] With so much hope for a bright future, Patrick Bronte had come a very long way from the poverty of his birth in Ireland. But within the briefest space of time, this fleeting joy would turn to sorrow and utter despair.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Bronte fell ill soon after moving into the parsonage, and it was a terrible blow for Patrick.


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[Assistant] Already weak after the birth of her sixth child in as many years, Maria was confined to bed.


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[Assistant] Despite her husband's tireless efforts researching cures and looking for medicine, nothing could combat the cancer that had taken such a speedy but secure hold.


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[Assistant] Then, when all of the children were struck down with what was then the deadly scarlet fever,


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[Assistant] Patrick's tenure at Howarth that had started with such promise seemed blighted as he faced losing his entire family.


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[Assistant] Fortunately, Mrs. Bronte's sister, Elizabeth Branwell, came to the rescue, arriving from Cornwall to take charge of the household. And soon, the children had all been restored to health.


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[Assistant] But their mother after suffering horribly lost her battle for life on the 15th of September, 1821. She was heard to cry out.


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[Assistant] And the sight of Mrs. Bronte's coffin being carried through this narrow gate to her final resting place in the family vault in the church must have been devastating to witness.


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[Assistant] Distraught, the Reverend Bronte shut himself away from everyone in his grief, becoming stern with the children, who were, by all accounts, grave and silent beyond their years. Elizabeth Branwell, a strict Methodist, considered it her duty to care for her sister's children, so she remained at the parsonage.


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[Assistant] And the children turned to each other as they played together out on the moors where they would not disturb their father.


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[Assistant] One of the family servants described the touching scene.


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[Assistant] Life did go on, but sadly for the Brontes of Howarth, worse was yet to come.


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[Assistant] Education had been the making of Patrick Bronte. When he found a school for clergyman's daughters advertised, the two older girls were quickly despatched, with Charlotte and Emily following a few weeks later.


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[Assistant] All that remains of the school at Cowan Bridge, about 50 miles from the parsonage, is a row of cottages that made up part of the establishment.


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[Assistant] And as delightful as the setting looks today, all was far from well back in the winter of 1825.


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[Assistant] The school had been started by a well-intentioned clergyman.


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[Assistant] But sadly the establishment was beset with difficulties, and it wasn't long before catastrophe struck.


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[Assistant] The first the Reverend Bronte knew of the tragedy about to unfold was when news came that Maria had fallen ill.


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[Assistant] Conditions were bleak at the school, and in the cold and damp, Patrick's eldest daughter had contracted tuberculosis.


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[Assistant] A typhus epidemic had also broken out, in episode that Charlotte would recall vividly in her novel Jane Eyre.


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[Assistant] And was buried with her mother in the family vault.


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[Assistant] Then news came that Elizabeth was also suffering from TB. And when she reached Howarth, obviously very sick indeed, Charlotte and Emily were immediately brought back to the parsonage too.


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[Assistant] And if you want to know what happens to the girls, all will be revealed in just a few moments.


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[Assistant] Thankfully, the news wasn't all bad. Charlotte and Emily, as you know, survived to tell the tale, but sadly Elizabeth, just two weeks after returning to Howarth, followed her sister and mother to the Bronte Vault. She was ten years old.


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[Assistant] For the time being, Patrick Bronte kept his surviving children with him, but continued as withdrawn and stern as ever.


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[Assistant] Charlotte, Emily and Anne, along with their brother Branwell, became extremely close, and out on the moors, they started to write imaginary tales.


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[Assistant] When Patrick Bronte gave his son a box of toy soldiers, he really started something as the children made them into the heroes of their stories, creating imaginary lands out here, far away from their father's disapproving gaze.


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[Assistant] The Reverend Bronte was already suffering from deteriorating eyesight, and the creative children wrote everything down in the tiniest of books, preventing him from seeing what they were up to. And even at this early stage, their talent was emerging.


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[Assistant] But childhood and the freedom to roam could not last forever, and with no family fortune, all four of them would have to make their way in the world.


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[Assistant] For the girls, this would mean working as teachers or governesses and this required further education.


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[Assistant] At the age of 15, Charlotte was sent to Rowhead School.


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[Assistant] And although homesick, she did well there and with her studies complete, she returned as a teacher, taking Emily with her.


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[Assistant] For Emily though, the homesickness was too much, and after three months, as concerns for her health grew, she was allowed to return to Haworth while Anne took her place. The youngest Brontë's sister had a far more placid nature than the wild, passionate Emily, and she accepted her life at Rowhead with Charlotte.


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[Assistant] However, Branwell, as the only boy, was allowed to chase his dream of becoming an artist. With what money could be scraped together, he set himself up as a portrait painter in Bradford. But with no training and limited talent, he failed miserably.


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[Assistant] Branwell had squandered his family's investment in him and turned to drink to drown his sorrows.


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[Assistant] Fortunately, it was the age of steam, and as the tracks were fast cut across the Pennine landscape, Branwell found employment working for the railway.


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[Assistant] While Patrick continued to minister to the people of Haworth, all three of his daughters found positions as governesses, an experience that Anne would use for inspiration in her novel, Agnes Grey.


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[Assistant] However, Emily struggled again and after six months returned to the parsonage, claiming she preferred the dogs to her pupils.


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[Assistant] It's interesting to note that here in the church, there's a monument to William Waitman, who became Patrick's curate at about this time.


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[Assistant] The handsome young man sent a Valentine's card to the sisters in 1840. And although it seems that gentle Anne was his choice, there was a tragic end to the romance. As cholera was rife in Howarth, he contracted the disease and died in 1842.


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[Assistant] The death rate in Howarth was incredibly high at the time, the reason being that these flat gravestones lying horizontally at the top of the steep hill allowed contamination from the bodies below to seep into the water supply for the whole town.


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[Assistant] When this was discovered, the practice was stopped. But as you can see from these upright gravestones in this very crowded burial ground, for many, it was too late.


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[Assistant] Well, Bronte's, these were dark days. We've come to the Black Bull on Howarth's Cobbled High Street, which is where Branwell Bronte could all too often be found.


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[Assistant] He'd been dismissed from the railway for constant and culpable carelessness, and again turned to drink for solace. It wasn't just alcohol that Branwell took to excess, as he also bought opium from the apothecary across the road, as he spiralled towards addiction and even more erratic behaviour.


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[Assistant] The sisters by now realized that their brother was not just a lost cause, but also an added burden as they struggled to improve the family finances.


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[Assistant] As time passed though, the answer to their prayers took shape on their own doorstep, and plans for the Bronte sisters to open their own school here in Haworth took shape.


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[Assistant] Aunt Branwell offered to help finance the project, but the girls also needed to offer a varied curriculum, including modern languages. So Charlotte and Emily set off for Belgium to attend a boarding school in Brussels.


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[Assistant] The stay was shortened as Aunt Branwell fell ill but died before the girls reached Howarth and the ever homesick Emily remained to keep house for Patrick while Charlotte returned to Belgium.


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[Assistant] She was totally bizotted with Monsieur Hager, the school's head, but her passion was unrequited.


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[Assistant] What's more, his wife took a very dim view of the young English girl pursuing her husband, and Charlotte's second visit was also cut short.


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[Assistant] Even so, the girls were now equipped to open their own school, and they advertised accordingly. But they failed to attract a single pupil, leaving Charlotte to come up with an alternative strategy to generate an income.


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[Assistant] All three of the sisters had written poetry, and although it took all Charlotte's powers of persuasion to get Emily to agree, they presented their work for publication under the male pseudonyms Cora Ellis and Acton Bell.


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[Assistant] Few copies were sold, but it was the beginning of the Brontë's literary career, and as Charlotte accompanied her father to have eye surgery, which required weeks spent in a darkened room, she started work on Jane Eyre.


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[Assistant] It was her second novel, as she'd already written The Professor, based on her experiences in Belgium, which had been turned down by various publishers, but Jane Eyre was taken immediately by Smith, Elder and Co.


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[Assistant] Emily, meanwhile, had been working on a novel too, the wild and passionate Wuthering Heights, with Heathcliff and Cathy falling in love against the dramatic backdrop of the Moors. It's believed by many that she based Wuthering Heights on top with-ins, once a solitary farmhouse that would have suited Heathcliff perfectly.


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[Assistant] Anne had also been busy writing Agnes Grey, and along with Emily's Wuthering Heights, it was published by Thomas Newby.


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[Assistant] Despite neither story selling as well as Jane Eyre, interest was growing in the identities of Cora Acton and Ellis Bell.


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[Assistant] Then when Newby tried to pass off Anne's dark and brooding The Tenant of Wildfell Hall as by the author of Jane Eyre, Charlotte decided that it was high time to reveal the Brontë Sisters, which was done on a visit to Smith Elder & Co in London.


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[Assistant] However, the success of Charlotte, Emily and Anne was of little consolation to Branwell, who spent much of his time in this very chair, in a drunken stupor.


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[Assistant] Often the Reverend Bronte was called to remove his son from the Black Bull, and eventually the young man fell victim to tuberculosis, and back at the Parsonage, his days were numbered.


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[Assistant] Branwell died on September the 24th, 1848, but the tragic consequences of this highly contagious disease were much further reaching.


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[Assistant] While Charlotte was still grieving for her brother, she realised that Emily and Anne were both showing the telltale symptoms of TB. Emily refused all medical help until it was too late, and she died just days before Christmas at the age of 30.


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[Assistant] As the new year progressed, Anne's condition worsened, and Charlotte took her to Scarborough in the hope that the bracing sea air would help.


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[Assistant] But it was of little use. Anne died in Scarborough and is the only member of the family not buried in the vault at Howarth.


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[Assistant] With only Patrick and Charlotte left at Howarth, these were dark days. But eventually, Charlotte turned to her writing for comfort, completing Shirley, a novel inspired by her father's heart-head tales of the Luddites.


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[Assistant] Then Charlotte returned to Memories of Belgium to write Villette. She was by now something of a celebrity.


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[Assistant] However, there was disquiet at the parsonage between father and daughter because Patrick Brontë's curate, Arthur Bell Nicholls, proposed marriage to the now famous author.


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[Assistant] Patrick refused to give his permission, and Charlotte turned Arthur down, but eventually she agreed, and on condition that the newlyweds remained at the parsonage, the Reverend Brontë finally gave his consent, and they married in 1854.


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[Assistant] There was to be no happy ending though. Charlotte fell ill, possibly in the early stages of pregnancy, and sadly by now you can probably guess the outcome.


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[Assistant] Patrick Bronte's last surviving child died on the 31st of March, 1855, leaving him to live out his days here at Howarth with only the widowed nickels for company.


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[Assistant] Nevertheless, the fact that I'm standing here today where thousands of visitors come from all over the world to find Bronte country means that the legacy of these truly remarkable writers lives on.


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[Assistant] So it's only right that we should leave the last word to the ladies with Emily's beautiful poem summing up the very essence of this unforgettable place.


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[Assistant] Wherever you find yourself in rural Britain, you can be pretty sure that some novelist or other will have passed by at some stage in the nation's history and immortalized the view as the published word. It could be Jane Austen's Hampshire Hamlets, Charles Dickens' Kent Coast, the Bronte Sisters' Yorkshire Dales, D.H. Lawrence's Nottinghamshire Landscapes,


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[Assistant] Or, George Eliot's picturesque Warwickshire. But on this occasion, it's the green and pleasant countryside of Dorset that we'll be focusing on. I'm Liam Dale.


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[Assistant] I'd like to welcome you to Thomas Hardy's Wessex.


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[Assistant] For anyone in search of the most perfect example of an English country cottage, Thomas Hardy's birthplace would have to be a major contender in the delightful setting of higher Bochampton on the outskirts of Dorchester.


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[Assistant] It was here on the 2nd of June 1840 that Thomas Hardy made his entry into the world, and you only have to look around you to see where so much of his inspiration for the beautiful evocative descriptions of rural life that fill his novels came from.


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[Assistant] But this is not where our author's story actually begins. And if we travel the short distance to the nearby village of Stinsford, you can see where it all started.


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[Assistant] Welcome to St Michael's Church, where Jemima Hand, a young maid at Stinsford House, first laid eyes on a musician by the name of Thomas Hardy, who came with his father and uncle to play the violin for the Sunday service.


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[Assistant] No organ in many country churches. This was quite a common practice.


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[Assistant] Despite Jemima's aspirations to better herself, being a keen reader, romance blossomed between the musician and the servant girl.


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[Assistant] And like many a fair maid in Hardy's later novels, she found herself pregnant.


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[Assistant] Fortunately for Jemima, the young man was prevailed upon to do the honorable thing.


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[Assistant] The couple were married just a few days before Christmas 1839.


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[Assistant] And moved to the Hardy Family Cottage at Higher Bochampton.


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[Assistant] The Hardys were actually builders by trade, and the cottage had been constructed in the early 1800s from whatever resources could be found.


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[Assistant] By the time Jemima arrived, the family was presided over by her mother-in-law, Mary Hardy.


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[Assistant] Who would pass on her tales of old country folklore to her grandson.


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[Assistant] However thwarted Jemima might have felt by her necessary marriage, Thomas Hardy Sr. proved to be a good husband.


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[Assistant] And a year after the birth of her son, also named Thomas, a daughter, Mary was born.


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[Assistant] Ironically, Jemima would warn all of her children never to marry, but she soon turned her attention to ensuring that her new son had every opportunity to better himself through education.


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[Assistant] As life for the hardy settled, the frail Tommy, as our author was known, proved to be as intelligent as he was sensitive.


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[Assistant] Forever losing himself in books, he also developed a keen love of nature and his beautiful surroundings. And when he was eight years old, he was sent to school in Lower Bochampton, which is to this day the epitome of a classic English village.


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[Assistant] Young Thomas Hardy was captivated by the lady of the manor who opened to the school shortly before his arrival. In fact, he was one of her first pupils. But it was quickly evident that this excellent student was ready to progress beyond what this rural establishment could offer.


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[Assistant] Consequently, he was sent to Dorchester at the age of 10 to continue his studies.


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[Assistant] During his three-mile walk to school, he would cross the stone-arched bridge into the town, leaving the countryside behind as he encountered independence for the first time and the hustle and bustle of urban rather than rural life.


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[Assistant] Mr and Mrs Hardy were nonetheless determined to encourage their eldest son to aspire to greatness, and instead of him entering the family building business, he was apprenticed to the Dorchester architect Hicks in South Street, taking his first steps towards professional advancement.


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[Assistant] Thomas Hardy again excelled, becoming a meticulous draftsman at a time when architects were much in demand, as wealthy Victorians made ostentatious additions to their properties.


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[Assistant] He also found himself called upon to work on the restoration of the fabric of various churches. But as his sharp mind continued to develop, Thomas Hardy began to question the religious doctrine that was preached within.


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[Assistant] Visitors to Stinsford are delighted to discover the Thomas Hardy Memorial Window, which depicts the author's favorite passage of Scripture from the Old Testament, when the prophet Elijah hears the still small voice of God.


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[Assistant] However, it was within this very church that the vicar's sermon so incensed young Hardy one Sunday morning that he turned away not only from Stinsford, but also from the Christian faith. The vicar had attacked the lower classes for aspiring to join the professions, just as our author had done, and this caused great offence.


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[Assistant] Thomas Hardy, for a while, attended other churches, but with bold new ideas circulating, pioneered by Charles Darwin and his theories of natural selection and the origin of the species, the cracks in Hardy's faith began to widen.


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[Assistant] Also, after six years studying architecture in Dorchester, Hardy looked to broaden his horizons in terms of his career, leaving the county town and the pastoral landscape of Dorset far behind him.


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[Assistant] With a thirst for knowledge, Hardy visited museums and art galleries, went to the theatre, the opera, and even saw the acclaimed novelist Charles Dickens giving a public reading of his works.


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[Assistant] Being an able architect, he soon found work in Blomfield's offices just off Trafalgar Square.


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[Assistant] But seeing the contrast between the rich and the poor so dramatically demonstrated on the streets of London, he began to question the validity of his chosen profession.


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[Assistant] His attention turned to literature and he began to write poetry but failed miserably when it came to finding a publisher.


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[Assistant] And he felt that his lack of a university education and his lower class background had held him back.


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[Assistant] Disappointed, Hardy's health also began to suffer, and in 1867, he decided to return to the peace and tranquility of Dorset.


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[Assistant] It didn't take long for Hardy's health to be restored and he came back to work at Hicks. Yet his London experiences had triggered his imagination.


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[Assistant] And Hardy started to look towards making his living writing novels as an alternative to architecture.


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[Assistant] At first he failed again to find a publisher with his manuscript of Poor Man and a Lady, rejected for being too hostile to the upper classes.


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[Assistant] Undeterred, he began to pen desperate remedies, the story of a lady's maid embroiled in a twisting plot of deception.


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[Assistant] And then fate took a hand in the life of Thomas Hardy when his architectural duties took him to the church of St. Juliet in Cornwall.


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[Assistant] When the door of the parsonage was opened by Emma Gifford, the rector's sister-in-law, Hardy looked into the eyes of the girl who would capture his heart.


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[Assistant] In the wild Cornish landscape, enjoying Emma's company and watching her ride, Hardy was both besotted and inspired.


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[Assistant] Oh, the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea.


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[Assistant] When the time came for Hardy to leave St. Juliet's, he returned to hire Bochampton. With thoughts of Emma to motivate him, the young author managed to publish Desperate Remedies and began work on Under the Greenwood Tree.


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[Assistant] There is no doubt that this description of the Dewey's cottage was based upon Hardy's own home.


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[Assistant] It was a long low cottage with a hip roof of thatch, having dormer windows breaking up into the eaves, a chimney standing in the middle of the ridge, and another at each end.


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[Assistant] Melstock Choir and its musical players are to be replaced by an organ, and this storyline combined with that of Dick Dewey, one of the musicians infatuated with the lovely school mistress, are interwoven very deftly with Hardy's own memories of rural life.


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[Assistant] It was exactly to the taste of the Victorian reading public.


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[Assistant] And when it was published in 1872, it was a great success.


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[Assistant] Hardy's thoughts at this time were focused on Emma, so his next work, actually commissioned by his publisher and called A Pair of Blue Eyes, was based on his Cornish romance.


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[Assistant] At this point in his life, Hardy was 32 years of age. His literary success meant that he could now turn his back on architecture to pursue his writing.


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[Assistant] But if you want to know whether the love of Hardy's life said I do, you'll need to join me again in just a few moments.


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[Assistant] Sadly, the path of true love failed to run smoothly, and when Thomas Hardy asked Emma's father's permission to marry his daughter, his request was turned down.


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[Assistant] Again, Hardy's lack of social position had hindered him.


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[Assistant] But ironically, back here at higher Bochampton, his own mother was equally opposed to the match.


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[Assistant] Nevertheless, Emma and Hardy remained true to each other, and as our author started work on Far from the Madding Crowd, Emma became the inspiration for the vibrantly drawn Bathsheba Everdeen.


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[Assistant] When the novel was published in 1874, once again readers were delighted by Hardy's portrayal of rural life, and the dramatic events of this tale, complete with a suitably happy ending, made it another great success.


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[Assistant] On a more personal level too, Hardy was a happy man as he and Emma married on September the 17th, 1874, despite neither of their families giving their blessings to the match.


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[Assistant] After sweeping Emma away for a honeymoon in Paris, the newlyweds first settled on the outskirts of London.


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[Assistant] But as ever, Dorset pulled at Hardy's heartstrings, and they soon moved to Swanage.


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[Assistant] But despite the wonderful sea views, the sparkle of the Hardee's romance was beginning to lose its luster.


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[Assistant] The wild free-spirited girl from Cornwall was somehow dulled by domesticity in her husband's eyes.


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[Assistant] And his next novel, Ethel Birter's Hand, telling the story of a servant's child trying to rise above their station, did not meet with Emma's approval.


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[Assistant] Over an unsettled period, the Hardys moved a number of times, but eventually they relocated to Sturminster Newton, and life for both Thomas and Emma began to improve.


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[Assistant] And is it any wonder, here at Riverside Villa, with its wonderful views of the Dorset countryside, Hardy would take Emma on boat trips on the River Stour, and it was as if the first flush of their romance was rekindled.


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[Assistant] In this happy state, Hardy began work on The Return of the Native, drawing his inspiration from childhood memories of walking with his mother to visit his Aunt Maria across the heath.


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[Assistant] His descriptions of Dorset are at their most atmospheric and define the genius of Thomas Hardy with true eloquence.


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[Assistant] Even Hardy talked of this time with Emma as being a two-year idyll, but just as his characters in The Return of the Native failed to live happily ever after, a shadow had fallen across his marriage, as the hoped-for conception of a child eluded the Hardys.


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[Assistant] Thomas became restless, and needing to research his next novel, The Trumpet Major, a move to London was decided upon.


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[Assistant] But this did little to improve matters between husband and wife.