Turner’s Watercolour:rn’Holy Island—Northumberland”rnby Peter HuntrnA steep, sharp, rocky shore, a low cHfF-sidernPale-gold with sunlight cutting down from skiesrnIn tumult on the fringes of a storm aroundrnThe Holy Island. Castle towers loomrnBroken, massive, rough, their colour paledrnBy North-Sea winds and ghostly, silver light,rnWliile shadowing the further shore, and overrnBlue-black sea, the upper realms of Eastern skyrnAre opaque with penitential bluernOf priestly stoles, and sea and sky converge.rnLike a miracle this shore seems warm.rnHaloed in a sunstruck peace. Yet thisrnIs no calm bay where boats may beach, but wind-tornrnSolitude, to which supplies are broughtrnTo bare survivors, blessed this day by lightrnThat marks two worlds—of haven, and of storm.rnBut huddling close in human warmth, and hurr’ingrnTo their home. The sailors rocking in their boat,rnA family-cluster wading to the shore,rnA group shin-deep in shore-line water circledrnBy the swirling, white-gold-crcsted waves,rn(The lovely, dangerous lace that laps and sweepsrnInto the Isle); a father with child in arms,rnA woman and a child who wait above:rnAll are aware of maelstrom near at hand.rnFar off, a steam-ship moves away as thoughrnIt hurried on to trade, and ports and citiesrnLess enchanted, anxious to have donernWith Lindisfarne, lonely ruins, rocky islernLong bereft of monks and kings. And far up onrnThe left and on the heights, the prioryrnSteeple’s glimpsed, its cross the sign of Aidan’srnZeal, who poured the oil and calmed the sea.rnAnd founded Lindisfarne, making clear the pathsrnOf many who embarked for distant points, andrnOf Cuthbert, the bishop who as hermitrnOn the tiny isle of Earne prayed springs from rockyrnFloors, and gained his bread from barley, sownrnUnseasonally when other crops had failed.rnWliat did they think of the sea, those saintsrnAnd cloistered, patient scholars, those rovingrnTeachers driven by desire to spread the Word?rnDid they ever fear the salt-sway fever of it.rnOr feel in its flood the everlasting swellrnAnd surge of Him they served, feasting on itrnAs they, Celt and Saxon, feasted on their songsrnIn days before lona’s fire had struck their tonguesrnAnd made this island, bathed in Turner’s gold,rnThe burning ruby centre of their zeal?rnDICTATIONSrnTrn’The Only Thing That Matters”rnennson’s Norflicrn Fanner, who did not want his sonrnmarring for love, took a lesson from his horse’s hoofbeats:rnHosn’t thou ‘ear my ‘erse’s legs, as they canters awaiiy?rnI’roputty, propnttv-, proputt^-—that’s what I ‘ears ’em saiiy.rnC.]onscrvati’es, re])eating tliat refrain ever since, slake everythingrnon the third lerni of Locke’s trinit)’ of life, liberty, andrnpro])crt’. But whal did Locke mean by property? We think ofrnreal ]5ropert and personal propertv, of course, but there arernalso chemical properties, and .’^iglicans used to invoke a Di-rninc Ik-ing “WIKXSC ]5ropertv is always to have nierc)-.” Andrnwhat aboul such related words as “proper” and “propriety”?rn.All of ihese words are derived from the Latin proprius,rn”one’s own.” I lence, property is that which belongs to one,rncither in the sense of ownership or in tlie sense of an intrinsicrnquality. (Classical liberals often speak as if the right to buy orrnsell a pro])ert} were an essential part of the definition. Butrnfimgible is prcciselv what pro])erty is (or rather was) not.rnWhen i ,ocke defines the function of government, he says thatrn])eople unite “for flie mutual preservafion of their lives, liberticsrnand estates, which I shall call by the general name —rnpropertv.” In this context, “estate” might mean severalrnthings: properly in general; the sum total of properties andrnmonies, debts and credits, which a man leaves behind afterrnhis date; and landed properts’ in particular. Even in commercialrn1 ingland, however, the estates one would think ofrnfirst were real propert — that is, the lands and buildings thatrnconferred identity and prestige.rnThough estates were bought and sold in 17th-centur)’England,rnthey were primarily conceived of as inalienable byrnthose who inherited them and were to be passed down tornlieirs according to strict laws of succession. Estates might bernfurtlier entailed, sharply curtailing the proprietor’s right torndisi)ose of them as he saw fit. On the other hand, though arnproprietor might not easilv be able to sell a particular “propertv,”rnhe could “bid defiance to the crown” if it sent petty officialsrnknocking at his door to collect tax’es or search for contraband.rn’ 1 he invasion of this essential propert)- right sparkedrnthe .’merican Rcolution and led to the drafting both of thernDeclarafion of Independence and the Fourth •Amendment.rnAmericans long ago traded in this precious right for therntrivial right to bu and sell. Temiysou’s farmer was thoroughlyrnmodem-“new stle,” as he is called—and he can dornanything he likes with his property. He can buy and sell andrndisinherit his next of kin as if he were not his own son:rnThim’s mv noiifions, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick;rnBut if thou marries a bad un, I’ll leave the land to Dick.—rnCoom oop, proputt}, ]5roputt) — tliat’s what I ‘ears ‘im ,saay—rnProputt}, ]jroputt, proputty’ —canter an’ canter awaay.rn—Hiimpfy Dumptyrn12/CHRONICLESrnrnrn