I will be with my grandson for some days!!
So don’t worry I will be fine!!
See you on Monday!! Love you all!!!
και τα μουρμουρητά των επιβατών τους …..
The darkness brings no quiet here, the light
No waking: ever on my blinded brain
The flare of lights, the rush, and cry, and strain,
The engines’ scream, the hiss and thunder smite:
I see the hurrying crowds, the clasp, the flight,
Faces that touch, eyes that are dim with pain:
I see the hoarse wheels turn, and the great train
Move labouring out into the bourneless night.
So many souls within its dim recesses,
So many bright, so many mournful eyes:
Mine eyes that watch grow fixed with dreams and guesses;
What threads of life, what hidden histories,
What sweet or passionate dreams and dark distresses,
What unknown thoughts, what various agonies!
William Powell Frith (1819 – 1909), on the other hand, liked to depict every day Victorian life.
He was fond of panoramic scenes full of bustle and activity – my favourite being The Railway Station, 1862. This is the kind of painting that is almost cartoonish – more like something that was destined to be an illustration in a periodical, or a snapshot of a scene from a nineteenth-century novel.
Every character is involved in some kind of interaction, from picking up hat boxes and kissing their children to tending their dogs and showing their tickets. Every face has a different expression: concerned, surprised, nonchalant, distracted, even imploring.
The station itself is rendered more like a line drawing that recedes into the distance which helps to centre our attention on the people. Frith pays attention to the details, especially the clothing: the palette he uses is quite muted, but we can see furs, silks, velvet, fringed wool shawls and a wide variety of hats amongst other things. Travellers have dropped items on the floor and baggage has been left unattended while the station employees load luggage on to the train. It’s a wonderful scene showing a moment in daily Victorian life.
Frith wasn’t only busy depicting his fellow Victorians, he was also busy creating them! By his first wife, Isabelle, he managed to bring no less than twelve children into the world whilst at the same time supporting a mistress, Mary, who lived only a mile away and with whom he produced a further seven children. A busy man indeed, and hardly the epitome of the British Victorian morality and middle-class respectability that was deemed so important at the time. He did eventually do the right thing however: when Isabelle died in 1880 he made an honest woman of Mary by marrying her. Very proper!