Hello, you are watching the program “Directive Dugin”. Today, August 15 around the world celebrate the birthday of the English writer and decadent Thomas De Quincey.
Thomas De Quincey is known for his decadent work “Confessions of an English Opium-Eater“, which is considered the earliest classics of the psychedelic direction in contemporary literature. But he was also the author of the finest treatises on philosophy, art theory, and even political economy. He was friends with the great romantics of England, the poets Coleridge and Wordsworth.
In the works of De Quincey’s very hard to distinguish between exquisite sense of humour and complete honesty. In particular, the huge popularity in its time acquired the text “On Murder Considered as one of the Fine Arts“, which is strictly to determine the proportions between the first and second extremely hard, and this is its decadent charm.
In his political views De Quincey was reactionary, belonged to a very right wing conservatives. However, his prose and his ideas do not qualify in the conventional coordinate system: De Quincey in thoughts, dreams, creative inspiration, contemplate worlds and structures intersect with contemporary Britain, its society and even its history and culture only sporadically, when their wandering through the maze of subtle metaphysical visions happens to be in a familiar place and a familiar time.But it doesn’t last, and a professional dreamer again immersed in the tiered floors of the palimpsest of his soul. Like other romantics, Thomas De Quincey believes imagination is not passive, but an active force. He is convinced that human thought is able to create real worlds. And utopia is the most real of all that exists. Demonstrative, De Quincey this utopia is conservative and goes into the depths of a sacred tradition. A rare case of a thinker-utopian, which is, however, not left, but right…
De Quincey in life suffered a lot five out of eight of his children died in infancy. He long could not find work, suffer from poverty and denied. In the history of literature that Thomas De Quincey was able, like no other in the world culture, to transmit the latter the depth of pain and suffering. Especially distinguished for his sketches, called “virgin of Sorrow”. Here it penetrates into the center of the image of the great Mother, giving not only the birth but also death. Reflecting on the metaphysical female images of ultimate suffering, de Quincey writes:
“These sisters—by what name shall we call them? If I say simply, “The Sorrows,” there will be a chance of mistaking the term; it might be understood of individual sorrow,—separate cases of sorrow,—whereas I want a term expressing the mighty abstractions that incarnate themselves in all individual sufferings of man’s heart; and I wish to have these abstractions presented as impersonations, that is, as clothed with human attributes of life, and with functions pointing to flesh. Let us call them, therefore, Our Ladies of Sorrow.”
The eldest of the three sisters bears the name of Mater Lachrymarum, Our Lady of Tears.
She was present in Bethlehem the night that the fierce sword of Herod walked through the Cribs of babies, forcing forever frozen tiny nozoki, the sound of which is over the heads of the household were awakened in their hearts the waves of love, dokatyvaetsya to heaven.
She is gentle and soulful eyes, then gentle, then wild; they often up the mountain, often abandon the sky an angry call.
The second sister is called Mater Suspiriorum—Our Lady of Sighs. She never dosage to the clouds, never moves in the wind.
But the Mother of Sighs unknown to the spirit of rebellion; rebellious alien to her cries, she has no thought of rebellion. She was humble until the complete self-denial. She is full of humility, characteristic of the desperate. If she grumbles and muffled, only in a dream. If the whispers-in the twilight, alone. Sometimes she mumbles something unintelligible, but only if you find yourself in solitude – among the wasteland, abandoned by all, like herself, on the ruins of the city when the sun was already down.
But the third Sister, also the youngest… hush! Talking about it should only undertone… possession of her small, otherwise it would froze on the ground all life of the flesh, but inside her the Kingdom, the power belongs to her completely. Her head with the tower, like the crown, stands as Cybele, leaving almost beyond visibility. It is not photoplay eyes: eyes raised to such a height, it would be hard to distinguish at a distance.But after the triple funeral veil Shrouding her face, reaches the earth’s lowlands raging fire blazing brightly in her eyes of suffering: it does not stop at the hour of Matins, nor at the hour of Vespers, nor noon, nor in the hour of the tide, either in the hour of low tide.
Her name is Mater Tenebrarum—Our Lady of Darkness.
Goodbye, you watched “Directive Dugin” about Thomas de Quincey.
Only suffering makes us human. At least so thought the great English romantic Thomas de Quincey.
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