By Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. I am calm again… but I know, none better, that I shall again be overcome by a kind of fever, a fever that causes me to lose interest in the usual activities of life and focus instead on the lives of certain folks, usually long dead, who yet from the very grave have more allure and glamor about them than all our own babbling leaders. But then these leaders have nary a princely attribute, much less artifact with which to captivate us and willingly enthrall.

Even their autographs, signed and dated on grim official photographs, often have no value whatsoever (beyond the ego massage it gives the signer), for such leaders are quotidian and our interest in them and their artifacts wanes with their power. No one, and certainly not a brilliant royalist like Shakespeare, will ever lose sleep or commit pocketbook to gain a slice of their wedding cake or a lock of hair in a golden locket with a pose at once regal and wistful. Mere prime ministers much less ministers of transport have no such magic.

But even the youngest prince or princess of the most transient royal dynasty does most surely have it… and what they have we want. Hence the twice annual imperial sales in Vienna, the great city of the Habsburgs and their imperium, every stone of which recalls them still, and affectionately. Let me be your host and guide. And for the music to accompany us, it must be “Der Kaiserwalzer” Opus 437 “Emperor Waltz” by Johann Stauss II composed in 1889. Its history is telling…

Emperor Franz Josef, Europe’s longest reigning monarch (1848-1916) originally conceived this waltz as a most elegant imperial compliment, in this case to his ally the Emperor William II of Germany, to be delivered in the form of a toast. And so this most Austrian of waltzes was presented in Berlin to the man who, more than anyone, brought down the entire structure of European royalty and lived to rue the day… but not yet. For now, go to any search engine and find this brilliant paean to an emperor, a king of kings, and to an era marked forever by his cypher. Thrill to the sweeping crescendo with which it opens… then be prepared to waltz, just as the emperor himself would be doing if he were in attendance with his gentlemen (as he often was). For his Imperial and Apostolic Majesty loved to dance with a beautiful woman… and forget his troubles, just like you. It was the secret of why the empire loved him, despite the many troubles “serious but not important”.

They knew, every single subject, he was one of them, Viennese to his fingertips, and, like the whole imperial structure, in his waning days. This cast a bittersweet pall over Vienna and the House of Habsburg, so much so that when dancing one would often find a tear in one’s eye… for such happy, golden days could not last forever, and didn’t. Thus one wanted a souvenir of this time… proof that one was present and empathized. They looked to Dorotheum for assistance. Then as now Dorotheum specialized in providing such valued mementoes, grand, opulent, intimate, human, joyful, even tragic, presented to you lot by entrancing lot, lavishly photographed to make them irresistible to — you.

Dorotheum.

The first thing you need to know about Dorotheum, Vienna’s premier auctioneers (founded in 1707), is its name. It is not “the Dorotheum”; it is simply “Dorotheum,” and to add the article drives purists (like me) wild; it is the same with RMS Titanic; there is no article in front of the name of the doomed vessel, never was, never will be… and so it is with Dorotheum. Thus we shall start as we mean to get on: with total accuracy and an eye for detail. These traits are of the essence in succeeding at Dorotheum and its highly specialized world. The more you epitomize them, the more successful your sojourn at Dorotheum, and I assure you if you are a connoisseur at any level of expertise, you will want such success here.

Dorotheum online and off.

These days Dorotheum presents its offerings in both the traditional paper catalogs and also online. Personally I find both information sources useful. Paper catalogs, of course, can be taken everywhere; one needs no plug. But online imagery, blowing up the image to better grasp its particulars — and its particular problems — is invaluable, not least because you can examine each part of the lot slowly, carefully, thoroughly as you should.

Hardly a day goes by when I fail to consult even a smidgeon of the voluminous resources available at Dorotheum. If I believed in being overwhelmed, even I should admit to a degree of awe in the detail provided. Thus, one must carefully select the areas of one’s interest, since concentration and focus are absolutely required. For me this meant the twice a year sales of artifacts from what they call in Vienna Kaiserhaus, Haus Habsburg, the imperial family. I have just emerged from the most recent, dazed, bruised, challenged… and, yes, even victorious. It was despairing, it was exhilarating, it was fun, it was expensive; it was a grand auction of grand artifacts… and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Preparation.

Because I am a serious and a frequent buyer and totally committed collector, I approach the catalogs with serious intent. I am not merely looking; I am looking to buy, to augment my already sizable collection. Moreover, because my Harvard Ph.D. is in History, specifically Modern European History, I expect to know something about what is being presented… but with the necessity to do more refined research and other homework to provide me with the edge I need for maximum success at absolutely the lowest price. I have money, but not to burn. Thus shrewdness must be acquired and keenly used. And I am assiduous in both.

18 Objects.

For the last imperial sale, I marked 18 items which, upon preliminary view, would fit nicely into my Cambridge collection, a place where space (or the lack of it) is a pressing problem. I asked for condition reports on each; talked to their experts twice, asked my own London-based conservators for their professional opinions on the relevant items… and did my own homework, no slacking allowed. In due course, just the day before the event, I at last felt ready.. which also meant being prepared for serendipity, that is being ready for what one cannot predict… taking advantage of the unexpected which is a key factor in one’s success.

Every monarchist in Europe present, every monarchist in the world on the telephone.

I do my bidding by phone, by myself not with an agent. I prefer to control my destiny… and keep to my preassigned limits. And since it is my limited resources I’m spending… I usually do, but only “usually”. Very quickly I came to understand, by close questioning of the charming lady who transmitted my bids to the auctioneer that there would be no bargains today… and so the imperial china of the Empress Maria Anna slipped away along with paintings, silver, autographs of a half dozen archdukes, and a lovely seascape I thought sure I’d get… all gone. Monarchists and aficionados of the Habsburgs had waited patiently for this day… and were not to be denied. And so a long day went slowly, painfully indeed…. until… that imp serendipity, always present in an auction, never predictable, sometimes for you, sometimes against. Now, for a single instant, my ally.

“Enormous changes at the last minute.”

This is Grace Paley’s famous line. I love it and frequently see the world through this aperture. It certainly applied now because as the number of lots remaining fast dwindled, the substantial crowd ready for dinner dissipated and started home from the magnificent palace where these auctions are held. Few people remained; fewer lots. And thus when the signed photograph of German Emperor Frederick III came up the auctioneer offered a low bid… half the low estimate. I bit. And, in a minute, he gaveled the item to a close — for me! A pip of an item (for autographs of this Emperor are rare; he only reigned for 99 days), for a pip of a price, virtually a gift.

“Dr. Lant,” my representative said clapping her hands in glee, “You got the only bargain of the auction!” And I believe I did. “I am so happy for you!” Her sincerity and joy for me were palpable… and pure Viennese, pure Dorotheum.

I was so happy that I quickly acquired a fine portrait of English King Edward VII by Heinrich von Angeli (1840-1925). Perhaps I overpaid just a bit, but I wanted it and still have funds to fight another day.

And believe me, at these imperial sales I will.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.Worldprofit.com

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt (1794-1877) was the first of the mega rich American tycoons. He made his money in transportation… first with boats ferrying freight and passengers between Staten Island and Manhattan, then by combining America’s 13 railroad systems into the massive New York Central railroad, with which he controlled America’s crucial and lucrative transportation network.

How did he do it? In part by never being the first person to commit his resources to the establishment and growth of a new business. No, indeed. Instead he watched what other entrepreneurs were doing…  until he figured out where they were right and, as important, where they were making mistakes and were vulnerable. With such facts firmly in hand, he developed a plan that simultaneously destroyed their business… and established him as the lead player in the enterprises he wished to dominate. It was brilliant and it made him very rich indeed.

The same thing is happening right now, right here in Cambridge where on May 2, 2012, the two greatest educational institutions on earth gave public notice that they plan not only to go online with educational classes, but intend to be the dominant players.

“Urbi et Orbi”.

Since 1626 when the Basilica was completed, the pontiffs of the Roman Catholic Church have raised their gloved hands on the balcony of St. Peter’s to address “Urbi et Orbi”, the people of Rome and the people of the world. This appearance was designed to impress and it did.  One man, his important message, the attention of the world, and the change that man desired and mandated. Thus, the Bishop of Rome did his business — and thus he does it to this day.

And so do Harvard and MIT aim to do their business and change the world “Cantabridgia et Urbi”, to the people of Cambridge and to the people of the world… a development of literally universal significance.

Scrutinizing the field, determined to better what is available, putting their money where their mouth is.

Since the inception of the Internet, farseeing people have rightly said there would be classes offered to the world… but how and by whom? The devil, as is entirely usual in such matters, was in the details. And so a series of entrepreneurs stepped forward and offered their version of online education, in the hope that theirs would be the version that stuck, thus

* The Minerva Project. a for-profit university with all course material available online.

* Udacity. A startup born from online engineering courses at Stanford University.

* Coursera. A center for online courses from Stanford, Princeton, Michigan and Penn.

Up until the joint announcement of Harvard and MIT these organizations had a shot at success. But the minute Harvard President Drew Faust and MIT President Susan Hockfield had their say, you could almost feel the palpable dismay of the other online course innovators. Their likelihood of success had just evaporated.

Of course these other innovators put the best possible face on the matter. Coursera’s founders, Andrew Ng and Daphne Koller, said they were glad to see other universities engage in online education; ( though they meant any universities other than Harvard and MIT).

They made a point of emphasizing that those to be offered by edX, the official name of the Harvard-MIT collaboration, would not be nearly as numerous as those they were offering. THEY would offer 40 classes this fall. So there! They made their case as best they could… but no one treated their spin with any seriousness…

… such is the potent magic of Harvard linked now to the technical genius of MIT. Really, who could successfully compete against such a combine? Commodore Vanderbilt knew the answer to that: no one, absolutely no one!

Why the Harvard-MIT Partnership will work.

These are the reasons edX, which will operate as an independent, nonprofit entity, will wallop the field:

1) Brand name. Harvard is the preeminent university in the world, and the world (which craves the reliability and reassurance of brand names) knows Harvard. While MIT may not be as generally well known, its reputation amongst the technically agile is unsurpassed. Quite simply, this team rocks.

2) Money. Harvard and MIT each plunked down $30 million to finance this enterprise. They know it takes money to make money, and by committing a significant sum, they announced this was a major project and would get major attention and and major financing.

3) Talent. The best people in the world want to be associated with these titans of learning. Harvard enhances their resumes; they burnish Harvard’s already majestic community of scholars and MIT’s technocrats.  Now an expert in Tokyo or Oslo can teach for edX and never come to Cambridge. Think what this means! Now every scholar and technical expert on earth glimpses their connection and future with the most  significant global instructional effort ever. And as a result they will flock to be a part of something so timely, significant, and influential.

4) Students. Recruitment for students will feature classes restricted to a million auditors. These classes will fill in minutes, and have waiting lists. Only Harvard and MIT can contemplate such reality. People in every country on earth will thrill to such an education, offered by such institutions, theirs now for the first time and joyously.

As President Hockfield said, “You can choose to view this era as one of threatening change and unsettling volatility, or you can see it as a moment charged with the most exciting possibilities presented to educators in our lifetime.”

“Eroica”.

There are, to be sure, many matters yet to be arranged. Of course there are; the world is being summoned here for advancement and sweeping change. How could there not be dozens of important elements not yet resolved, not the least being how to recognize student participation and achievement without watering down the degrees offered by each institution. You can be assured the Old Guard will scrutinize this matter with the utmost care. But these details in due course will be solved leaving us to behold and benefit from this cosmic enterprise sure to advance our species.

For this moment, we need great Beethoven and his 3rd Symphony, “Eroica” (1805) It celebrates grand ideas, great visions, thrilling vistas, and the achievement of our highest and most challenging inspirations, aspirations and objectives. For this moment only Beethoven will do. Go now to any search engine and find this soaring sound and remember you were here when mankind made this stupendous leap into a future suddenly better.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.Worldprofit.com

To tell you the truth, when this number came out I didn’t pay much attention.  It was “pop” music, my attitude about the entire genre skating perilously near to contempt. But things have changed a lot over the last several decades… or maybe I’ve just mellowed like people constantly tell me, especially people like Ned whose opinion on this matter is worth hearing since as my oldest friend he’s in a position to know. Let’s see how that happened…

Edmund V. Henry.

Many years ago, my father Donald Marshall Lant impressed a man named Edmund V. Henry. This fact was to have the greatest possible influence on my life, as I have never admitted before. Not from malice, but from something far worse and more destructive… sloth. Now I aim to correct this grievous fault and make, I hope, generous amends… starting with the man my octogenarian father still calls “Mr. Henry” though “Mr. Henry” is now no longer amongst the living.

Mr. Henry liked my father and my father liked him which makes theirs the first significant friendship in this multi-generational story. What would have attracted Mr. Henry’s sharp notice (and he was amply stocked with keen perception) was my father’s strongest suit — loyalty. People not only liked him (easy to do) but came to rely on him to do what he said he would do… and never let them down. A person on the way to managerial success always needs such people on his team, can never have too many and goes out of his way to support those fate delivers. It is what smart leaders do.

Mr. Henry saw a man of skills, of dependability… and, above all, of fidelity. And so as Edmund  V. Henry moved up, Donald Marshall Lant moved up… and far away from where they both started, in suburban Chicago…

“California here I come” — reluctantly.

Edmund V. Henry was the kind of man who expected success… and was willing to do what it took to achieve it. Hard work never bothered him. He had every virtue prized by the Rotary Club, to which he should have belonged if he didn’t. He was manly, athletic, a person who inspired trust, backed by his scrupulously kept word. You knew where you were with Ed Henry. He believed in God, the Great Republic, family — and the full panoply of infallible dogma assiduously propounded by the Vatican. This fact could hardly have been more significant… particularly for his dozen children.

My relationship.

When my father told me towards the end of my freshman year at Downers Grove (Illinois) high school that we were leaving for Los Angeles, I was despondent, angry, seeing no opportunity in the Golden State… but only unbearable loss as only a dramatically inclined teen-ager could see things. Mr. Henry, who offered my father promotion if he’d go West was Nemesis, not benefactor. And being capable of smoldering (none better) I am sure my adamant opinion was heard… but not followed.

And so because of Mr. Henry and the bright promise of California, a beacon not yet obscured or tainted, we left all the verities behind… loved grandparents, a town where we knew everyone and everyone knew us, the very school itself built by my grandfather. Aunts, uncles, cousins, every path and sidewalk intimately known and cherished… even the acres of violets which carpeted the verdant way to the ambling creek… all this gone. Who was responsible? Edmund V. Henry and a lifelong friendship that far transcended any business relationship. My father literally bet the ranch on this accord.

Ned.

It is now time to introduce you to the protagonist of this story, Edmund Junior, always called Ned, though I artfully plied him with any number of clever variations and rearrangements, “Nedrick” being amongst the more mild. You’ll be glad to meet him and learn more. Here’s your opportunity.

Ned is the first son of Edmund V. and Rosemary Henry. He is now 60-something, right smack between me (65) and my brother Kevin, a smidgeon over 60. I have known him virtually since the moment of conception. I am therefore his oldest friend and qualified to comment.

The different path.

In his early days Ned was the fervent Roman Catholic son his ardent father desired. Thus, the subject arose naturally of Ned becoming a priest, credit to God, his bishop, his priestly order, his father, his family, and himself. And Ned, then, embraced this possibility, the more so as it was strongly recommended by Los Angeles Bishop Timothy (later Cardinal) Manning, Ned’s staunch benefactor. He first saw the priest in Ned, ensured his father saw it, and then, Ned himself… the glowing altar boy who embraced his future with a glad heart and enthusiasm… at first.

Thus one sunny California day I, the heir of Protestant Reformation, beheld the dramatic fact of Ned at seminary, garbed in the first of the many sacerdotal outfits his father was sure would follow — priest, monseigneur, bishop, even cardinal, prince of the church. Why not? Bishop Manning was on the fast track. Why not his acolyte Ned? Every father has great dreams for his first-born son, and Mr. Henry had his. The problem was, and this is perhaps the tragedy of Mr. Henry’s life, once in seminary Ned’s fervor waned. After two years or so, he wanted to leave, his vocation gone, only one thing yet to do — let his father down easy.

One thing distinguished Ned then and now. Sweet tempered, good mannered, always determined to make the people he loved and cared for happy, he had tried what his father so profoundly desired. However as his commitment dripped away, his heart no longer in his vocation, he wished for something impossible to deliver… a solution that would give him freedom without hurting his father. Such a solution did not exist…

And so he left the seminary breaking his father’s heart and put foot on the path for the most serious journey of his life, to find himself and find comfort and self acceptance in the result. His father, dismayed and afflicted though he was, supported Ned, something the more valued because so unexpected, under circumstances so bitter. But Ned was the first-born son, and loved. Bishop Manning, however, never spoke to him again.

“The sharp edge of the razor…”

During these years he bore a distinct resemblance to the character Larry Darrell in W. Somerset Maugham’s 1944 novel “The Razor’s Edge” which became in1946 a compelling film starring Tyrone Power. The title referred to a line in Katha-Upanishad: “The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over, thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard.” No one knew this better than Ned… or me.

For I was a constant if often attenuated presence in his life, as one secure of the warmest of greetings despite long absences. I have watched as the lovable boy I knew has grown into the equally lovable man I know; a supremely valuable trait that has often proven the catalyst for anything other than serenity and comfort. Throughout all these many years, literally since his birth remember, I have been a factor. As “his oldest friend”  that is my right and I cherish it accordingly.

That is why just the other day, my sister having provided his current telephone number, I called, saying “This is your oldest friend…” He knew and the years evaporated before our onrushing memories.

Ned is coming to visit me soon. It will be the greatest possible fun. Irreverence will be the order of the day. Things profound will be mixed with jokes from long ago. Our much loved dead will rise again and live in us. Truths will be uttered about each other… and about ourselves. And we will laugh…. for we are both masters at that.

And so the saga of this lifelong friendship will continue, another chapter added, these words sung by Stewart more true than ever:

“And I never thought I’d feel this way/ And as far as I’m concerned/ I’m glad I got the chance to say/ I do believe I love you.”  And, remember, Ned, Larry Darrell, who started in Chicagoland like both of us,  found the secret to happiness.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

How did he do it? In part by never being the first person to commit his resources to the establishment and growth of a new business. No, indeed. Instead he watched what other entrepreneurs were doing…  until he figured out where they were right and, as important, where they were making mistakes and were vulnerable. With such facts firmly in hand, he developed a plan that simultaneously destroyed their business… and established him as the lead player in the enterprises he wished to dominate. It was brilliant and it made him very rich indeed.

The same thing is happening right now, right here in Cambridge where on May 2, 2012, the two greatest educational institutions on earth gave public notice that they plan not only to go online with educational classes, but intend to be the dominant players.

“Urbi et Orbi”.

Since 1626 when the Basilica was completed, the pontiffs of the Roman Catholic Church have raised their gloved hands on the balcony of St. Peter’s to address “Urbi et Orbi”, the people of Rome and the people of the world. This appearance was designed to impress and it did.  One man, his important message, the attention of the world, and the change that man desired and mandated. Thus, the Bishop of Rome did his business — and thus he does it to this day.

And so do Harvard and MIT aim to do their business and change the world “Cantabridgia et Urbi”, to the people of Cambridge and to the people of the world… a development of literally universal significance.

Scrutinizing the field, determined to better what is available, putting their money where their mouth is.

Since the inception of the Internet, farseeing people have rightly said there would be classes offered to the world… but how and by whom? The devil, as is entirely usual in such matters, was in the details. And so a series of entrepreneurs stepped forward and offered their version of online education, in the hope that theirs would be the version that stuck, thus

* The Minerva Project. a for-profit university with all course material available online.

* Udacity. A startup born from online engineering courses at Stanford University.

* Coursera. A center for online courses from Stanford, Princeton, Michigan and Penn.

Up until the joint announcement of Harvard and MIT these organizations had a shot at success. But the minute Harvard President Drew Faust and MIT President Susan Hockfield had their say, you could almost feel the palpable dismay of the other online course innovators. Their likelihood of success had just evaporated.

Of course these other innovators put the best possible face on the matter. Coursera’s founders, Andrew Ng and Daphne Koller, said they were glad to see other universities engage in online education; ( though they meant any universities other than Harvard and MIT).

They made a point of emphasizing that those to be offered by edX, the official name of the Harvard-MIT collaboration, would not be nearly as numerous as those they were offering. THEY would offer 40 classes this fall. So there! They made their case as best they could… but no one treated their spin with any seriousness…

… such is the potent magic of Harvard linked now to the technical genius of MIT. Really, who could successfully compete against such a combine? Commodore Vanderbilt knew the answer to that: no one, absolutely no one!

Why the Harvard-MIT Partnership will work.

These are the reasons edX, which will operate as an independent, nonprofit entity, will wallop the field:

1) Brand name. Harvard is the preeminent university in the world, and the world (which craves the reliability and reassurance of brand names) knows Harvard. While MIT may not be as generally well known, its reputation amongst the technically agile is unsurpassed. Quite simply, this team rocks.

2) Money. Harvard and MIT each plunked down $30 million to finance this enterprise. They know it takes money to make money, and by committing a significant sum, they announced this was a major project and would get major attention and and major financing.

3) Talent. The best people in the world want to be associated with these titans of learning. Harvard enhances their resumes; they burnish Harvard’s already majestic community of scholars and MIT’s technocrats.  Now an expert in Tokyo or Oslo can teach for edX and never come to Cambridge. Think what this means! Now every scholar and technical expert on earth glimpses their connection and future with the most  significant global instructional effort ever. And as a result they will flock to be a part of something so timely, significant, and influential.

4) Students. Recruitment for students will feature classes restricted to a million auditors. These classes will fill in minutes, and have waiting lists. Only Harvard and MIT can contemplate such reality. People in every country on earth will thrill to such an education, offered by such institutions, theirs now for the first time and joyously.

As President Hockfield said, “You can choose to view this era as one of threatening change and unsettling volatility, or you can see it as a moment charged with the most exciting possibilities presented to educators in our lifetime.”

“Eroica”.

There are, to be sure, many matters yet to be arranged. Of course there are; the world is being summoned here for advancement and sweeping change. How could there not be dozens of important elements not yet resolved, not the least being how to recognize student participation and achievement without watering down the degrees offered by each institution. You can be assured the Old Guard will scrutinize this matter with the utmost care. But these details in due course will be solved leaving us to behold and benefit from this cosmic enterprise sure to advance our species.

For this moment, we need great Beethoven and his 3rd Symphony, “Eroica” (1805) It celebrates grand ideas, great visions, thrilling vistas, and the achievement of our highest and most challenging inspirations, aspirations and objectives. For this moment only Beethoven will do. Go now to any search engine and find this soaring sound and remember you were here when mankind made this stupendous leap into a future suddenly better.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. Sooner or later EVERY writer will face the ordeal of the blank page and come up with — nothing! At such a moment, you may well fall victim to malaise, running the spectrum from anxious to suicidal. The longer the seizure lasts, the worst these reactions will be, until one completely miserable day you reckon you can never write another word again… and this can bring on not only sadness but a kind of death from which, like the real thing, there is no escape.

To help you through this situation when it inevitably occurs, I am going to pack this article with one practical suggestion after another. You may not need them now; may not need them for a decade. But keep this article readily at hand for when you do.

First suggestion. Use a special song to raise your mood and get you moving.

Have a song easily available that makes you want to surge. I have a list of favorites, all selected for their proven ability to lift my spirits and put me in the mood to give something to humanity, something like the project I’m currently writing. “Maniac” from the 2001 film “Flashdance” featuring Michael Sembello always works. I indulge myself, acting kid crazy as everything conduces to get you…. your brain…. and your prose flowing again. You’ll find this song in any search engine… turn it on, let yourself go, until you feel the unstoppable energy that this kind of insistent music delivers.

Second suggestion. The minute you get nervous, frustrated, flustered, hot under the collar, STOP and STOP at once.

The worst thing you can do is force yourself to write. Not only will the quality of what you’re writing be tainted, but you’ll hurt yourself and begin to think the writing game is not worth the candle, the worst possible conclusion.

This particular advice can be very difficult to follow. After all, you’ve been productive before and aim to be productive again just as soon as possible. Surely, if you force yourself to write you can push the blockage to one side and flow, right? Instead, sit down at your writing desk, write as much as you can that flows naturally. Stop when the flow ceases…

… even if you’ve only managed to write a single word. Pushing yourself during a block never works positively and can easily affect your self-esteem and self-confidence when the push doesn’t work.

Third Suggestion. Keep your regular writing hours, even if you cannot write your name on the page just now.

Good habits are the key to good, constant, always flowing writing. Thus, it is important during draught days to do the precise things you did during the fat days. What you produce may not be substantial — yet. But even if you find yourself in the position of Oscar Wilde (“in the morning I put in a comma; in the afternoon I took it out again.”) that won’t matter. Why? Because the most productive writers are like Pavlov’s dogs… trained to write whilst in your sanctified writer’s place.

Fourth Suggestion. Still stalled? Do this!

First of all, notice I use the word “stalled” to describe your current unproductive situation. It is a word that implies you were moving and the problem being solved you will regain your accustomed outcome… and peace of mind.

Thus, when stalled do this… Take a walk around the park (if you’re lucky enough like me to have one right out the front door, so much the better). Find yourself a shaded bench where the view is congenial. Take out the pad and paper every writer must always carry; select an object and — describe it, fully, completely, without leaving anything out of your description… writing not only factually but with as much lyric beauty as you can draw from the “dry” well at the moment.

The simple task of describing the flower bed at your feet starts the productive juices flowing… even if you’re able, just now, to write only a single word (tree) with just one adjective (green). The thousand mile journey starts with the single step; yours starts with a single word… and any word will do.

Fifth Suggestion. Copy a page of another’s prose… to get you moving.

Nothing happening so far to get your stalled skills working productively again? No worries! Take a passage from a favorite book or article, open a file and enter this text. As you do, engaging brain and nimble fingers, you’re performing a function all prose writers regularly do, in my case almost daily, that is entering reference material.

When you’ve finished so entering a block of text, go on and comment on what you’ve entered. What was good about the passage entered, what was bad, what inspired, what underwhelmed? In just a minute or two, you’re writing… perhaps not yet up to your usual level. But what of that? Your creative faculties are working; your imagination is working, your fingers are working… and soon the flow of new ideas, new insights, new observations and new perceptions will be working, perhaps even better than before.

Sixth Suggestion. Read from your own prose.

Far too many writers fail to read their prose aloud. This is bad for several reasons, including to make sure all sentences are balanced, harmonious, with every word the right word. Merely reading your prose cannot deliver the optimum result; reading aloud can.

Thus, pick up the first page of anything you’ve written, not necessarily lately either. When you’ve finished reciting this page, sit down at your computer and write a second page to accompany what you’ve already written and read. Again, by positively positioning yourself and doing your usual tasks, you ease back into your stride and the production and presentation of the right words in the right order.

And if none of this works?

Seventh Suggestion. Close, relax, start again tomorrow.

With the best will in the world and the diligent adherence to these recommendations, your block may not end in a day, a week or even a month. Thus must you continue to implement these suggestions even when they may not be immediately helpful.

Therefore, begin each writing day as you always have, at your usual time, and with your usual matutinal rites. Do not skip a single one. Similarly eat at the usual times; run your usual errands in the usual way. And above all, close your shop at the usual time with the usual activities, such as preparing reference materials for next day usage. Never stay up late forcing yourself every step of the way; that may well have been a contributing factor to the blockage in the first place.

Guaranteed results.

Follow these steps, and I guarantee your days of obstacles, impediments, blocks and absolutely no progress will be history soon enough. Moreover, because you have experienced what is often a terrifying situation, you are better prepared to see it coming and take immediate action to overcome it. Once you do, dance the “Maniac” gyrations for yourself. They’ll put you in just the right frame of mind to produce that Niagara of high energy language, the kind your readers are thrilled you never stop writing and always produce so predictably and so well.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.worldprofit.com

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. This is the story of a popular flower, perhaps the most popular flower for Sunday gardeners whose name became a pernicious and hurtful epithet hurled by men at other men whose sexual orientation they did not approve and worked to excoriate. Know then, right from the start, that this cannot be merely a botanical tale. It is far more than that… just as the multi-hued pansies are far more than just a pretty face in your window box. And so, let’s begin with a tune by Richard Rodgers with lyrics by Lorenz Hart. It’s called “Ten Cents a Dance” and was published in 1930. You’ll find it in any search engine.

Ruth Etting got her big break with this song. Lee Morse was supposed to sing it in the musical “Simple Simon” but when she turned up drunk at the Boston opening, Florenz Ziegfeld fired her on the spot, hiring Etting. The song is a sultry lamentation by a bored girl who retails for just 10 cents a dance and the kinds of men who briefly enjoy her presence, including “pansies and rough guys.” Of all the many kinds of men she mentions only “pansies” is demeaning, insulting, so common an affront that the singer doesn’t even know the distress she’s caused… far more than her own (not so very woeful) situation.

My own father.

I saw the fury pent up in this single word whilst walking in West Los Angeles when I was in high school in the early 60s. He drew my attention to a man who was sitting in the driver’s position of his parked car plucking his eyebrows. My father spat out the single word “pansy!” It was an ugly moment as he was usually mild- mannered and accepting. But clearly not on this subject. How had such a cheering flower, with so many gay colors, become a word of hate, disdain, bigotry, disgust; a word meant to shame, harass and belittle? It was a long way from Lord Tankerville’s garden….

Lady Mary Elizabeth Bennett (1785-1861).

Every now and again a researcher like me finds a story so perfect about a given thing, it must be fate. So it is with the pansy. The popularization of the pansy began as the work of a single lady, Lady Mary Elizabeth Bennett. Daughter of the 4th Earl of Tankerville she had the most enchanting work place imaginable, the gardens of her father’s charming estate Ashley House at Walton-upon-Thames. Here in 1812, in this genteel world right out of Jane Austen the flower we love so well was presented to a world which had only to see it to love it.

Lady Mary was one of the 19th century’s gifted amateurs whose work we admire and whose comfortable lifestyle we envy. She had the means to collect and cultivate every known sort of Viola tricolor (commonly known as heartsease), the precursor of the pansy. Under the supervision of her gardener, William Richardson, a large variety of plants was produced by cross-breeding. In 1813, Mr. Lee, a well-known florist and nurseryman, further cultivated the flower. As a result Lady Mary, Mr. Richardson, and Mr. Lee found their place in history secured by the endearing pansy which knew from its inception how to insinuate and charm.

Another aristocrat helps the pansy.

By now you may not be surprised to learn yet another nobleman, James, first Baron Gambier enters the picture, ready to give his patronage to this by now fashionable flower: “Quite the thing, my dear, so eager, so cheering, such a taking littlle thing, what?” And so it was. Lord Gambier worked at his country estate (Iver), with his gardener (Mr. Thomson). His particular interest was a yellow viola “Viola lutea”, a wide-petalled pale yellow species of Russian origin…

.. . with time and resources his at the wave of a hand, many crosses were tried. “Viola altaica” was the most productive; it laid the foundation for the new hybrids classed as “Viola x Wittrockiana.” What his lordship wanted was a round flower of overlapping petals. In the late 1830s a sport occurred; the unpredictable event that produced narrow nector guides of dark color on the petals, but a broad blotch on the petals (which came to be called the “face’) was found. Rule, Brittannia! Good show! Hip,hip, hurrah! In 1839 this new variety was released to an expectant public under the name “Medora.”   And so it went…. by the end of the 1830s, there were over 400 named pansies readily available to gardeners who once considered its progenitor, heartsease (beloved of Lady Mary), a weed. Things were very different now! It all culminated when the pansies took their rightful place in the chorus serenading Alice on her golden afternoon in Wonderland in the 1951 film by Walt Disney. (You  can find it is any search engine.)

Sadly, the pansies themselves saw this not as a triumph but as a consolation prize, for they had wanted Tara, not Wonderland.

Katie Pansy O’Hara — not.

Margaret Mitchell was a one-book author. But what a book — “Gone with the Wind” (released 1936). It was a publishing event of the first magnitude and then a film that many (including myself) regard as the finest ever done. And the pansies were all positioned for maximum impact and joy since Mitchell loved the name “Pansy” and had so called her unforgettable heroine. But she was gently persuaded that her protagonist needed a stronger name; besides, the word “pansy” was already being used pejoratively and that would never do for a woman America was about to focus on with obsessive, unslakable interest. Thus, Pansy morphed into Scarlett, to the pansies’ eternal regret. It is a subject that rankles them to this day… and which can only be raised with the utmost delicacy and care.

The anger, irritation, pique and outrage of the pansies.

You have only to mention the high jacking of their name by hate mongers to produce universal outrage amongst the pansies. Their job, so well accomplished for so long, is to brighten lives, raise spirits, enhance affection and beautify even the most oppressive of situations. There is no room in their mission for causing pain, just for lessoning and eradicating it.

Thus, they asked me as a special favor to urge you, each of you, to do what you can to restore their good name, a name famous for goodness, kindness and love. Their mission is for all, wherever they are, whatever their station or position, and it has no room at all for denigrating anyone at any time. That is not the pansies’ way — and it must not be yours.

Pansies are a thoughtful flower. Their very name derives from the French word “pensee” for thought; even Ophelia in her madness remembers that — “There is pansies, that’s for thoughts.” (“Hamlet,” act 4, scene 5.)

And their thoughts are simple… that the misuse of their long-held name is an outrage, unjust, unwarranted, unkind, unnecessary and must stop at once, not just for their benefit… but for the benefit of the haters who may then be liberated from their vituperation, leaving the most friendly and thoughtful of flowers to get on with their work… lightening the misery of our species… the misery we create for each other every single day. Misery even a single glorious pansy can diminish at once and turn to gladness, a secret all their own.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.Worldprofit.com

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. My mother is dead now. But I want you to know that hardly a day goes by when I don’t think of her… not in some idealized fashion either. For she was a vibrant, beautiful creature whose reality, for me, even if flawed, was more compelling than any fairy tale I might make up. And as for charm, why she was a by-word for that; I knew that before I even knew what charm could lead to. Some say that along with her penetrating eyes I inherited my full measure of that charm too. I leave that to you to find out.

This article is being written because it gives me the perfect opportunity to remember her… not just vaguely… but as she was and remains in my mind’s eye, a real woman, my much loved and often argued with mother. Here I am able to indulge myself in the most profound memories, certain that I am writing this article for you… not just for myself. And because the woman is important and the day I am recalling here one of the handful of truly special days of her life (so she often told me afterwards), I savor every word as I think it, write it, consider it, review it — and if not perfect and exactly so, change it. For there is not a word here or even a comma that I can accept in any other way. For you see, this was one of the handful of truly special days of my life… and I want you to share it and know why.

Thomas Gray, treasured poet.

Where did my mother’s love affair with England and her poets begin? I cannot say, but I can recall that wherever we lived its premises were littered with the lyric beauty of the English language… where words mattered, where understanding them mattered, where using them to maximum effect mattered, and where a word was never an obstacle but a friend not yet known well enough, but welcome for all that. As such, books, rarely closed, always open with makeshift book marks were found in every room. We read as effortlessly as we breathed… and the splendor of language surrounded us, shaped us, sustained us… and no one more than my mother for whom poets were accounted special beings well deserving of the veneration they received from her… and in due course from me. And so the profound love between a mother and her first-born son was made manifest in the poems we discovered and shared, the readings of such poems to each other, and the meanings we strove to find… especially for me when she was gone before. Then these bonds mattered most of all.

Thomas Gray, 26 December 1716 – 30 July 1771, just 54 years old.

Thomas Gray was born in Cornhill, London, the son of an exchange broker and a milliner. He was the fifth of 12 children… 11 of whom died in infancy.  he smell of death permeated his young world… a constant visitor to his home, a constant reality where birth and mourning seemed inextricably linked and inevitable. And so he grew up wondering whether his own expected demise was nigh, accelerated by his abusive father. This recurring thought shaped his life, his outlook, and his poems. Later in life Gray became known as one of the “Graveyard poets” of the late 18th century, along with Oliver Goldsmith, William Cowper, and Christopher Smart. But for Gray this was not a pose; he had been to the graveyard too often too early for that. Death and Gray were on intimate terms from the start.

His sense of humor.

For all that Gray’s life was turbulent and difficult, it had moments of unalloyed joy, not least because he had the valued knack of seeing the humorous side of even the most oppressive subjects. It is good to see he skewered the masters of Peterhouse at Cambridge University as “mad with Pride” and the Fellows of this College as “sleepy, drunken, dull, illiterate Things.”  It was the kind of thing I wrote to my college friends, too, and I knew the joy of such characterizations.

My mother knew I wrote these kinds of acid word pictures; I sent them to her, and she carefully tied them with ribbons adding her own often equally acid responses. These, too, bonded us; we laughed together. Too, there were other traits which may have made her see me in Gray: he spent his time indoors, voracious reader, avoiding athletics and exercise of any kind. But when the companionship of his friends was offered, he was a crowd pleaser with the apt, devastating mot at the ready. Gray and I might have been siblings; surely Kindred Spirits… she must have seen this… and if so have approved.

“Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard”.

Thus, my mother traveled to England where I was then working on my first book and asked me to accompany her to the setting of one of her favorite poems, the “Elegy” written slowly, painstakingly between 1742 and 1750. She had waited a lifetime for this excursion… and so she and I on Mother’s Day went hand-in-hand to the ancient village of Stoke Poges, to the churchyard of the Church of England parish church of St. Giles. There great Gray’s remains repose for the numberless ages, his monument weathered, tilted, too much too illegible, special torment for this man of perfect wording.

We had come hence to see, to learn, to venerate…. and in the graveyard to read the “Elegy”, together, in turn, lyrically, each word a pledge to love each other now and forever, though I didn’t know its purpose then.

She had her tattered, well thumbed Gray in hand, so did I.

So we commenced the reading, the first stanza hers by right to intone:

“The curfew tolls the knell of parting day/ The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea/ The ploughman homeward plods his weary way/ And leaves the world to darkness  and to me.”

We are borne on these words to the place we most want to be with the person in this sublime moment we both wish most to be with.

Thus we walked and read together from the celebrated words which British General James Wolfe read to his officers September 12, 1759 the day before he was killed in battle, saying “Gentlemen, I would rather have written that poem than take Quebec tomorrow.” It was an admission made by thousands of those who have thrilled to these sonorous words and their eternal relevance to struggling mankind.

‘Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife”

Now my mother has gone the way of all flesh, the way we all must trod in time. We know such an end is natural but that does not assuage the bitter grief and finality of the matter, particularly when the dear departed is one’s mother.  This loss is bitter indeed at whatever age it occurs.

Thomas Gray knew all this and in his beloved “Elegy”, popular from the moment of publication, popular still, he gave us all the words we need to cope, find hope and resignation — and the words of remembrance and above all of love.

Thus whenever I miss her and want her near me in all her humanity and that dazzling smile I can never forget, I take down from the clutter of my library her copy of Gray’s “Elegy” and read it aloud, as we did that memorable Mother’s Day so very long ago. Whenever possible I go to any search engine and play Domenico Scarlatti’s Sonata in D minor (published 1738). It was one of Gray’s favorites and perfect accompaniment to his surgically precise words.

“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power/ And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave/ Awaits alike the inevitable hour/ The paths of glory lead but to the grave.”

But not, with God’s help and with Thomas Gray’s, to the dark void of forgetfulness and oblivion. They have given us the joys of memory and the words we need to summon it –and our loved ones — at will and thus they live again in us.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.Worldprofit.com

Discussion Topics covered in today’s LIVE home business bootcamp training.

Next LIVE Worldprofit Home Business Bootcamp Training: Friday May 4th, 2012 at 10 AM CT. Get a free Associate Membership at http://www.Worldprofit.com and see for yourself why Worldprofit is the #1 choice for online home business training and work at home programs.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. All of a sudden it is very cold. I sense there are intruders in the house, intruders running rapidly through the rooms, looking for something, for someone. I hear a piece of crockery fall to the floor and shatter. I hear a scream… it is my sister… in a thick muffled voice I hardly recognize as hers she is saying over and over again, “Don’t touch me! Don’t hurt me!”

Then I see men, leering men, who bayonet the portrait in the hall, my grandfather, its slashed elegance crashing to the floor.

Then the men, Red Army men, see me. I am afraid… and colder than I have ever been….

I wake up, sharply, sweating despite the rush of frigid air from an overnight storm, the window left open. I am shaking but home. In Cambridge. Pulling down the sash solves the problem. My dream is just that…

… but for Gabriel Tepelea, cultivated man, magnificent linguist, my nightmare was his ever present reality; my reality what he never ceased to dream of — and strive for.

Remember!

This is why we must remember him, his oppressions, his advocacies, his penuries, debasements, indignations, losses, struggles, humiliations and above all his services to the nation he loved so well and in so many ways — Romania! The land of unparalleled beauty… and tragedy.

To set the mood, I give you the famous “Sanie cu zurgalai” folk song. It is Romanian to its core, brilliant, soaring, sophisticated, ardent, sensual. It is about a young man in love with a beautiful  girl and the sleigh which he stylishly decks out to fetch her. Every Romanian loves this song, because it reminds them of the impetuosity of youth, their youth, and its fast-passing joy. Go to any search engine to find it. I recommend the bravura performance of Angela Gheorghiu and hope someday someone will sing this to me… with only a bottle of fine Tokay between us… and nothing more, except the history we are about to make — and remember.

Why you know nothing about Romania. A clue from  Neville Chamberlain.

On 3 July 1938 British prime minister Neville Chamberlain gave a speech at Kettering which showed in an instant why a nation like Romania was an irritant, unworthy of even a moment’s notice by Western nations. “How horrible, fantastic, incredible it is that we should be digging trenches and trying on gas-masks here because of a quarrel in a far away country between people of whom we know nothing.”

The uncomprehending Chamberlain specifically meant Czechoslovakia; he would have been even more contemptuous and disbelieving about even more far away and even less important Romania. Thus was Romania, for all that it was the fourth largest nation in Europe, for all that its language was Romance and the habits and inclinations of its haute bourgeoisie Parisian, forced to make its way as best it could between the great menaces of Nazi Germany and Stalin’s Russia. Here was a Gordian knot unsolvable by mere mortals. Certainly no statesman then living, Romanian or other. This was a business better left to the gypsy fortune-tellers of the land and their opaque predictions.

And so in 1947 the last king of Romania, courageous Prince Michael (born 1921) was forced to abdicate, whilst total Soviet domination ensured the destruction of everything and everyone who opposed them now or might ever oppose them. This was the bleak, unimaginable, little understood and less reported world of Gabriel Tepelea. And while hundreds of thousands of his countrymen died horrible deaths, Tepelea was forced to find the uncertain, perilous path to life and freedom. That he did so without sacrificing his honor, his soul or the essence of his humanity is his genius and the reason for celebrating the man. For he survived as a thinking man… and that under the circumstances of his difficult life was a triumph indeed.

His early life.

Born in the western Romanian city of Oradea, Tepelea joined the center-right Peasant Party in 1933 and was a strenuous advocate of democracy and particularly of the farmers who constituted ninety per-cent of the population. The work was arduous, strenuous, and necessary. He learned that the only way for Romania, or any other nation to advance, individual people must advance. And so he worked for the structural changes to ensure they would, his particular project being the amelioration of the harsh lives and conditions of the farmers of Transylvania. Thus, he adamantly opposed the transfer of Romanian Transylvania to Hungary during World War II. It was important work, but not yet his finest. That was to begin in 1945… the year my nightmare in Cambridge became Romania’s bitter destiny and Tepelea’s daily life.

The Soviets seize control.

Using its unrivaled regional military power, deceit, trickery, chicanery and bold faced lies, the USSR invaded Romania in 1945 and simply refused to leave. Instead they did everything to sublimate, eviscerate, destroy and humiliate a nation that was at that moment in its turbulent history actually allied to Russia. By now a nationally known politician, Tepelea was amongst the first to feel the bite of the lash. It cut deep.

All power to the soviet.

Soviet domination came swift, fast, catastrophically. Tepelea was arrested,  imprisoned, his assets confiscated. And so for ten wearing years he endured the black place which took many and gave up few. What helped him endure was words. For Tepelea was a gifted author, linguist and communicator. Words strengthened him, sustained him, enlightened and comforted him… and so language and its uses kept him alive until he was released in 1955, consigned to do unskilled labor and the petty miseries of enforced drudgery and poverty. But he had survived…… and he intended that Romania would survive, too.

Thus, he set about doing the two necessary tasks essential for achieving the objective: continuing his long deferred work with the Peasant Party… and making sure today’s privileged youth understand the necessary cost of freedom and liberty — never-ending vigilance being a prime ingredient.

So did Gabriel Tepelea spend the gift of his lengthy years in service to the nation and to its youth. He was a lawmaker for the Peasant Party for 10 years until 2000, serving as deputy leader of the party. And he pursued his career in education, both teaching and becoming dean of the Philology Faculty in the western city of Timisoara in the early 1970s. He specialized in Romanian and French — and in truth. He was an expert in each.

Tepelea’s eternal relevance.

His message was clear, unmistakable, more relevant and necessary to impart as the severe realities distinguishing his life grew murky and indistinct. Liberty, he intoned, must never be taken for granted; freedom comes only to those who value it above all and are willing to do its work, no matter how arduous, how difficult, how inconvenient.

Now the man is dust… but his message, found in his over 20 books and many articles, goes on… and must go on until the world understands not merely the benefits of liberty and freedom… but its unceasing, inexorable, insistent cost…. a cost Tepelea paid in full and gladly… but which you may not yet have paid at all. Will you do so when your time comes?

As for you, Gabriel Tepelea, go to your rest enveloped in this quintessential sound of the Romania you have served, none better:

“More beautiful is my lover/ Tonight I will go to her/ Sledge with little bells.” Godspeed you to this blissful rendezvous well earned and forever .

* * * * * * * * * * *

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.Worldprofit.com

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. Do you believe in fate? Do you believe that there are people on this planet we are meant to meet? That we will meet… no matter how unlikely that seems at this moment? When I contemplate the matter objectively as my training as a social scientist demands, I come to the obvious, the expected, the empirical conclusion that the idea of fate is superstitious hokus-pokus… then a chance encounter with Catherine Stephens occurs and challenges my logic, for surely this is kismet indeed.

Some background.

I am that most uncomfortable and difficult of beings, a connoisseur; that is a person who is engaged in the strenuous, never-ending search for rapture; a state which occurs whenever I see a thing and know that thing must be mine, cannot go anywhere but to me… for my well-being, the very completion of myself depends on my acquiring it.

Every connoisseur knows this unsettled state for each of us goes through it, especially (it seems) when money is in short supply, possibly due to having only recently been so touched and agitated… by something else.

But there’s the rub. Whenever one enters this condition, it is as if for the very first time, so intense, so unsettling are the pangs. And this can happen anywhere at anytime. Be warned.

In the matter of Catherine Stephens they occurred as I perused the pages of the Dorotheum auction catalog for The Prince Kinski Sale, February 28, 2012. Lot 96. Given my interest in the nobility and royal families of Europe, it was inevitable I should consult this catalog… and perhaps find something; but by no means inevitable that thing would be a portrait of a lovely actress and singer elevated into the highest echelon of the English aristocracy. Yet just as Catherine Stephens captivated and in 1838 married the octogenarian fifth earl of the ninth creation of Essex, the Right Honorable George Capell-Coningsby (1757-1839) … so she captivated me… and so (I warn you) she will captivate you, too.

Some facts about Miss Stephens.

Catherine Stephens (1794-1882) was the daughter of Edward Stephens, a carver and gilder in Park Street, Grosvenor Square, London. Theirs was a musical family… and her musical talent was encouraged. Thus, on 23 September 1813 she appeared at Covent Garden as Mandane in the opera “Artaxerxes” by Thomas Arne (1710-1778) . He was the celebrated composer who wrote “Rule, Britannia!” and even a version of “God Save The King”, which became the British national anthem. She was in very good company indeed…

… and (I warned you) she enchanted them all. The aria that launched her career was  “The soldier tir’d of war’s alarms”, and it was theater magic.

You’ll want to hear it. And you can. Go to any search engine where you can hear Joan Sutherland’s 1960 performance. Now imagine the lovely very young Catherine’s candlelit debut and the dulcet tones which made each member of the restive audience believe — no, not just believe but know — she was singing just for them. That was always to be her secret…

That quality was instantly apparent in this circa 1838 portrait by Sir Martin Archer Shee (1769-1850). This was the most sympathetic face I had ever seen. And it was instantly clear that he, too, for all that he was consummate master of his craft, knight of the realm and President of the Royal Academy (PRA) had felt the power of her serene radiance.  Thus perforce did I stop to regard.

Most pictures of grand ladies, particularly titled ladies, say, “Look at me and be honored to do so. For I am worth the viewing.” Such pictures may awe and dazzle… but they do not warm or beckon us. They are about the subject, not the viewer. But Shee’s inviting portrait makes you feel certain about your reception, certain she wants to meet you and will be good to you. Above all that she will be good to you…. for that is what we all need.  And if that quality is immediately apparent in the sitter it is not just because Shee is a master, supremely confident in his skill, but because it was there for all the world to see in the lady herself.

Hard times for the Kinskis. Hard times for the painting.

To understand the fate of this picture you must understand something of the noble families of Mitteleuropa, families which were the foundation of the Austro- Hungarian empire. When it fell in 1918 families like the Kinskis lost the fruits of their hundreds of years of advancement. Their lives ceased to be glamorous but rather one lawsuit after another, largely futile attempts to regain property — and self-esteem. Throughout the declension of their lives and fortunes, the princes Kinski kept this picture. And it was in the old prince’s drawing room when he died. It was, remember, always comforting…. even when its condition was dire… as it was when I saw it and asked Simon Gillespie to give me his opinion.

Miss Stephens charms Mr. Gillespie of Cleveland Street.

London England-based Simon is my chosen conservator, the man who has restored over 30 of my pictures and upon whose informed opinion I rely, picture after superbly restored picture. As much a master of his craft as Arne and Shee in theirs, he, like them, felt the enduring charm of Catherine Stephens and wanted to restore the picture as much for her sake as for mine.

Thus he and his talented staff set to their important work, removing the dirt of time and poor maintenance, old varnishes and over paint applied by less careful and discerning hands. When this was finished, the now pristine canvass yielded a considerable secret using radiology, namely that Shee had originally positioned the sitter quite differently, for a full frontal pose with both shoulders visible. But as Shee painted he came to see his subject better and divine the source of her undeniable allure. And so he started again, his flamboyant technique very apparent in the repositioned result that captivates … and makes such an entrancing vision and desirable painting.

This is the image not just of one particular woman but of what the Victorians wanted from Woman in general, kindness, courtesy, sweetness of face and of manner, a willing ear, sympathetic at all times, generous of spirit — in short the celestial ideal advanced by Coventry Patmore (1823-1896) in his important poem “The Angel in the House” written in stages from 1854-1862.  It was an image that swept the world..

“Now she was there! Within her face/Humility and dignity/ Were met in a most sweet embrace/She seem’d expressly sent below/ To teach our erring minds to see/ The rhythmic change of life’s swift flow/ As part of still eternity.”

This is why this portrait of a lady and exalted countess is so important. You see, it makes clear what Woman may choose to be and of her profound significance in our often sore afflicted and troubled lives. I know, for when in my own life such troubles emerge, as troubles can do, I look up at this soothing, welcoming image now here before me in Cambridge and find comfort, peace and the kindness we all need.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.worldprofit.com  More articles can be found at http://www.JeffreyLantArticles.com