I've Moved!

Friends, I've begun a new chapter at this site: Blaze with Beauty. My musings there will be less motley. Thank you for reading my ramblings here - it's been fun!

Much love,
Izzy

A Happy Birthday to the Bard!

Dear friends, 

Today is my 23rd birthday, and Shakespeare's 454^th – yay! Now, some of you may recall that last April, I said it was his 402nd; that's because I confused the 400th anniversary of his death (2016) with the 450th anniversary of his birth (2014). Alack, math was never my strong suit. At any rate, here are some amusing Shakespearean memes I found. Enjoy!

- Izzy

"Austen's Pride, a Musical of Pride and Prejudice" - An Article

Note: This is a repost of a piece I wrote two summers ago - I'm reproducing it now because my blog was being contrary with the formatting of the original. 


This summer, I had the delightful privilege of attending a performance of the lovely new musical, Austen’s Pride, at Nazareth College in Rochester, New York (the production was part of the Finger Lakes Musical Theatre Festival's summer season, and my mother and I made the journey from our home down South). It was well worth it; the duo behind the show, Lindsay Warren Baker and Amanda Jacobs, have skillfully woven together two riveting narratives, that of the novel itself, and the story of Jane Austen’s creation of it. They’ve been working on their masterpiece for roughly sixteen years now; stimulated by the profusion of Austen adaptations that came out in the late 1990’s, the ladies set about creating something of their own. As part of their research, they went to England and visited Chawton Cottage, Austen’s home, and were inspired to include the author in their show. 

Since its first performance in 2006, the musical has gone through many changes, and now, Austen has become more than a plot device; she’s a prominent character herself. She propels the play forward, both in her close bond with her sister Cassandra and in her associations with her characters. In the first scene, Jane rushes onstage to tell her beloved sibling that the publishers for Sense and Sensibility want to see more of her work, and together, the pair ponders the prospect of sending the manuscript for a certain First Impressions. Jane is uncertain at first, but with a little nudging from Cassandra, she decides to “give the story a second chance,” and is soon busy with editing her early draft.

The incorporation of Jane and Cassandra distinguishes this adaptation from all others; not only does the audience get glimpses of the sisters’ personal lives and tight-knit relationship, but their interactions influence those of the characters. For example, a comment from Cassandra about marriage for security rather than love prompts Jane to allow Charlotte to marry Mr. Collins. Jane also works alongside her characters; in one of the final scenes, Lady Catherine storms into Darcy’s house in London, fuming that Elizabeth refuses to decline his proposal. When his aunt irately asserts, “I shall not go away till you promise me that you will not marry her,” Darcy declares, “I shall make no promise of the kind.” To the dowager’s outrage, Jane replies, “Lady Catherine! Everybody has a right to marry once in their lives for love if they can.” She then slightly mollifies the mistress of Rosings with a hug. 
Bested on the verbal battlefield, the livid lady departs, and Darcy admits to Austen that he loves Elizabeth in his song “Fine Eyes.” The show boasts an exquisite score, including such jewels as Mrs. Bennet’s hilariously histrionic “My Poor Nerves,” Lydia’s exhilarated “I Can’t Resist a Redcoat,” and Elizabeth’s heartfelt “When I Fall in Love.” The marvelous songs, dazzling dialogue, and the familiar-yet-fresh story combine in a positively irresistible play. 
This truly wonderful show is much more than a charming way to spend an evening - it’s a catalyst for self-evaluation and beneficial change; Lindsay and Amanda hope that their work will “instill an appreciation, admiration, and love of Jane Austen and her genius,” that it will “inspire people to pick up the book and read it,” that audiences will “learn that second chances are precious opportunities,” and learn to take “love and light” into the world, as Jane does. Right now, the talented twosome are busy working on the next steps, since it is a truth universally acknowledged that a musical adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice must quickly reach Broadway.

Here's the link to the show's site: http://austensprideamusical.com

Their Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/janeaustensprideandprejudice/

And their Twitter: https://twitter.com/p_pmusical

Image: The full cast of the 2016 production - photo credits to Ron Heerkins Jr.

Nell Gwyn's 368th Birthday

Today is Nell Gwyn's 368th birthday - in celebration, here are a few remarks which her contemporaries made about her (because I love first-hand accounts of historical figures and events). First, a quote from Samuel Pepys's diary about her performance in Dryden's The Maiden Queen (Pepys, like many theatergoers, adored her comedic skills):

[Saturday, March 2, 1667] . . . After dinner, with my wife, to the King’s house to see “The Mayden Queene,” a new play of Dryden’s, mightily commended for the regularity of it, and the strain and wit; and, the truth is, there is a comical part done by Nell, which is Florimell, that I never can hope ever to see the like done again, by man or woman. [. . .] But so great performance of a comical part was never, I believe, in the world before as Nell do this, both as a mad girle, then most and best of all when she comes in like a young gallant; and hath the notions and carriage of a spark the most that ever I saw any man have. It makes me, I confess, admire her. (Source)

Here's an excerpt from The Maiden Queen, in which the roguish Celadon (played by Nell's then-lover, the actor Charles Hart) attempts to guess the fair Florimell's features behind her mask. I find this an intriguing passage because it gives a detailed description of Nell's looks (playwrights, like Dryden, would often tailor their parts to a certain performer): 

Flo. What kind of beauty do you like?

Cel. Just such a one as yours.

Flo. What's that?

Cel. Such an oval face, clear skin, hazel eyes, thick brown eye-brows, and hair as you have, for all the world.

[. . .]

Cel. A turned up nose, that gives an air to your face:—Oh, I find I am more and more in love with you!—a full nether lip, an out-mouth, that makes mine water at it; the bottom of your cheeks a little blub, and two dimples when you smile: For your stature, 'tis well; and for your wit, 'twas given you by one that knew it had been thrown away upon an ill face.—Come, you're handsome, there's no denying it. (Source)

This passage from her biography written by Charles Beauclerk, her direct descendant, contains a charming poem written in her praise by one of the other noted playwrights:

The year 1668 was probably Nell's busiest yet in the theatre, as more playwrights were inspired to write for her. The results, however, were not always worthy of her talent. In the autumn she played Lysette in Richard Flecknoe's Damoiselles à la Mode. The play was an abject failure and, according to Pepys, 'when they came to say it would be acted again to-morrow, both he that said it, Beeson, and the pit fell a-laughing, there being this day not a quarter of the pit full'. Flecknoe himself was nevertheless charmed by Nell's performance and sent her a poem entitled 'On a Pretty Little Person' as a mark of his appreciation: 
She is pretty, and she knows it; 
She is witty, and she shows it; 
And besides that she's so witty, 
And so little and so pretty, 
Sh'has a hundred other parts 
For to take and conquer hearts. 
’Mongst the rest her air's so sprightful, 
And so pleasant and delightful, 
With such charms and such attractions 
In her words and in her actions, 
As whoe'er do hear and see, 
Say there's none do charm but she. 
But who have her in their arms,
Say sh'has hundred other charms, 
And as many more attractions 
In her words and in her actions. 
But for that, suffice to tell ye, 
’Tis the little pretty Nelly. (From Nell Gwyn: A Biography)

And finally, my favorite quote about her, from her friend, the authoress Aphra Behn:  [Y]ou never appear but you glad the hearts of all that have the happy fortune to see you, as if you were made on purpose to put the whole world into good Humour, whenever you look abroad [. . .]  (Source) 

There you have it, gentle readers - Happy Birthday, dear, merry Nelly! :) 

Pierre Choderlos de Laclos' 276th Birthday

Today, Pierre Ambroise François Choderlos de Laclos was born in 1741, in Amiens, France. He served as a soldier, but is best known for his novel, Les Liaisons Dangereuses (in English, Dangerous Liaisons). This book ruffled quite a few feathers among both the aristocrats and the bourgeoisie when it was first published in April, 1782 - people were unsure of what to make of it. Many deemed it scandalous due to its sexual content, others couldn't put it down for the same reason, and some readers took moral lessons from the tale. I believe the latter response is what Laclos desired; in his "Editor's Preface" (he pretends that his work of fiction is a compilation of actual letters, which was a common authorial device at that time), he explicitly states: It seems to me, at any rate, that it is to render a service to morals, to unveil the methods employed by those whose own are bad in corrupting those whose conduct is good; and I believe that these letters will effectually attain this end. There will also be found the proof and example of two important verities which one might believe unknown, for that they are so rarely practiced: the one, that every woman who consents to admit a man of loose morals to her society ends by becoming his victim; the other, that a mother is, to say the least, imprudent who allows any other than herself to possess the confidence of her daughter. Young people of either sex might also learn from these pages that the friendship which persons of evil character appear to grant them so readily is never aught else but a dangerous snare, as fatal to their happiness as to their virtue. These messages are exemplified in the novel; the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont wreak havoc on their prey. Valmont's virtuous, devoutly religious conquest, Madame de Tourvel, dies of a broken heart after having the misfortune to fall in love with the libertine, and Cécile, Merteuil's teenaged cousin, returns to the convent where she was educated to become a nun, in order to atone for her fornication with Valmont (in which she was encouraged by Merteuil, her confidant). Her first (chaste and respectable) lover, the Chevalier Danceny, becomes a monk to make reparation for his fling with Merteuil; through their decisions to enter religious life, I believe Laclos was indicating that God's redeeming love provides solace for those who have transgressed. At the conclusion, Cécile's mother, Madame de Volanges, laments: Who is there who would not shudder, if he were to reflect upon the misfortunes that may be caused by even one dangerous acquaintance! And what troubles would one not avert by reflecting on this more often! What woman would not fly before the first proposal of a seducer! What mother could see another person than herself speak to her daughter, and tremble not! But these tardy reflections never come until after the event; and one of the most important of truths, as it is, perhaps, one of the most generally recognized, lies stifled and void of use in the whirlpool of our inconsequent manners. 
Because of her status-absorbed mindset, Volanges has spent much of the novel warning her friend Tourvel about Valmont, when she should have been developing a close relationship with her daughter; she keeps herself distant from Cécile, arranges her marriage, and in the meantime allows her to confide in Merteuil, who secretly intends to ruin her. Tourvel ignores the older woman's cautions and Cécile is eventually corrupted, so Volanges is left to mourn for both. However, the villains don't get away with their atrocities - Danceny kills Valmont in a duel, and Merteuil flees Paris in utter disgrace when her crimes are revealed. Madame de Rosemonde, Valmont's aunt, makes this astute comment on the whole situation: [W]ere one enlightened as to one's true happiness, one would never seek it outside the bounds prescribed by religion and the laws. To sum up, the main lesson is: if you manipulate others for your own gain, behave in a self-serving manner, and/or pursue pleasure as an end in itself, your sins will eventually entrap you. With its compelling plot and evocative characters, the novel offers us this truth and urges us to take stock of our own hearts so that we may lead lives of integrity.
Happy Birthday, cher Laclos!

Note: The quotes are from the Barnes & Noble Classics edition of Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
Image: A portrait of Laclos, attributed to Joseph Ducreux.

The 224th Anniversary of Marie Antoinette's Death

Yesterday, in 1793 (two-hundred and twenty-four years ago), Marie Antoinette was executed by guillotine. To honor her memory, I've written an acrostic poem, Marie Antoinette, R. (R. stands for Reine, the French word for "Queen," and I added the extra letter because it completed the poem's final stanza). I hope you enjoy it!

Marie Antoinette, R.

Most noble, regal Antoine (though

An angel you were not),

Really, you couldn’t stem the tide of

Ire rich and poor so wrought.

Even though you did your best,

Acting in your queenly role,

Not a soul stirred in that crowd

To save from death your gentle soul.

On a sunny morn in May,

In hope, you met your tender groom.

New friendship bloomed in time to love, which

Eased you both in your sad doom.

To some, you were a sinful jade;

To others, a saint, without a doubt - 

Except you were neither ideal nor vile, but

Rather, a lady of virtuous clout.

Image: Antoinette strolling through the Petit Trianon’s gardens with her two oldest children Marie Thérèse and Louis-Joseph, by Adolf Ulrik Wertmüller, in 1785.

A Triple Birthday!

Today good old Shakespeare turned 401, and I am 22! In addition, Emily, my friend and fellow ensemble member in The Marriage of Figaro, is 21 - 'tis most delightful! We've started dress rehearsals for said opera here at Samford - tonight's the first one, and I'm typing this as I sit in a corset, brocade skirt, matching bodice, and lace-trimmed ruffled cap - I'm living my 18th century dream. :) Here's a link to the Folger Shakespeare Library, if you're inclined to revel in some of the Bard's beauties: Folger Shakespeare Library.

And here's my favorite production of Figaro, from 1973 (it's in the original Italian, but ours is an English translation): 

Image: Much Ado About Nothing by Kinuko Y. Craft 

Henry Fielding's 310th Birthday!

Today, Henry Fielding, the great 18th century British novelist, turns 310. I've a deep appreciation for his clever works, which are replete with richly-formed characters; Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones, and Amelia are his three best-known tales. I highly recommend the audiobook of Joseph Andrews (unabridged and read by Rufus Sewell), and the audiobook of Tom Jones (an abridged version) read by Maurice West - both are available on iTunes, as is the audio drama version of Tom Jones starring Tom Conway as the titular character - it's very abridged, and old, but quite the charmer, much like Tom himself (the Fielding character, that is). To conclude, thank you, dear Lord, in Heaven, for giving us dear Henry to delight us with his wit and wisdom! :)

Image: The Interview between Tom Jones and Sophia Western (from this site - scoopnest.com)

Charlotte Brontë's 201st Birthday

Today, Charlotte Brontë, author of the classic novel Jane Eyre, is 201. To celebrate, here's one of my favorite film adaptations of said book - I came across it on YouTube.  It was produced by ITV in 1997, Samantha Morton plays Jane, and Ciaran Hinds is Mr. Rochester. Cozy up with a cup of tea (or whatever indulgent treat you prefer) and enjoy!

Happy Easter!

A blessed Easter to all of you - praise the Lord, Christ is risen! Here's my favorite encounter He had with one of His followers post-Resurrection; it's the moment when He meets Mary Magdalene, in John 20:11-18: 11 But Mary stood at the sepulchre without, weeping. Now as she was weeping, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, 12 And she saw two angels in white, sitting, one at the head, and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been laid. 13 They say to her: Woman, why weepest thou? She saith to them: Because they have taken away my Lord; and I know not where they have laid him. 14 When she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing; and she knew not that it was Jesus. 15 Jesus saith to her: Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, thinking it was the gardener, saith to him: Sir, if thou hast taken him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.

16 Jesus saith to her: Mary. She turning, saith to him: Rabboni (which is to say, Master). 17Jesus saith to her: Do not touch me, for I am not yet ascended to my Father. But go to my brethren, and say to them: I ascend to my Father and to your Father, to my God and your God.18 Mary Magdalen cometh, and telleth the disciples: I have seen the Lord, and these things he said to me. 

(This is from the online edition of the Douay-Rheims Catholic Bible - here's the link: Douay-Rheims Catholic Bible). 

Image: Detail of Noli Me Tangere,  1440 - 1442, by Fra Angelico 

Casanova's 292nd Birthday

Today, in 1725, the legendary 18th century adventurer Giacomo Casanova was born. His memoirs, written in his declining years, serve as a fascinating first-hand account of European life during the age of Enlightenment, and give a glimpse into the mind of one of its most remarkable men. Inspired by his escapades, I've started work on a screenplay which tells the tale of a modern-day authoress who meets the ghost of Giacomo, and he whisks her back to 18th century Venice, where comedy ensues. To whet your appetites and celebrate this gentleman's natal day, I present a snippet of my piece rendered as prose (I avoided using the real dialogue so there wouldn't be any copyright issue to contend with later). Enjoy!

The night of the rehearsal dinner, I sat in my bedroom, flipping through a copy of Shakespeare's plays    which I'd brought (the English major's comfort food). From the room next door, I heard Mom. 
"Honey, should I add a few more feathers, or are these enough?"
"Probably not," came Dad's reply. "No use in giving yourself a headache."
"But it's an 18th century party!"
"I wouldn't do it, if I were you."
She's going to go full-on Marie Antoinette anyway, I mused. I patted my simple bun, pleased with a strategically nested small clump of pink rosebuds which matched my satin gown; understated elegance, as always. 
Just as I turned the page (Beatrice was eavesdropping on Hero and Ursula talking about her), I felt a hand lightly tap my shoulder. Startled, I glanced up into the face of a man in full 18th-century attire, powered hair and all. His dark eyes stared into mine; he smiled kindly. Wow, he's hot, I thought, before he spoke, turning my world totally inside out. 
He greeted me, I introduced myself and asked his name, and then he said he was Casanova. The actual guy. It was incredibly bizarre; I tried to be courteous, excused myself, and managed to dash into my parents' room. 
It had to be a bad piece of salami - or maybe memories of Will were getting to me. Or jet lag. Whatever, I wasn't about to let any of this weirdness ruin the evening ahead. 

A Most Happy Day

Today, in 1749, Henry Fielding's delightful novel The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling was published - hurray!! If you're inclined to read this amusing-yet-edifying tale, here's the link to the online text: The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. And here's my favorite illustration from the book, done by the artist W.R.S. Stott - it depicts the happy conclusion *sighs contentedly*. 

Do give the tale a go; Fielding can be a bit earthy at times, but he clearly states his honorable intention in the introduction: To recommend goodness and innocence hath been my sincere endeavour in this history. 
Well said, Henry, well said.

Jane Austen, Virtue, and Dignity

Today, I happened across an article entitled "Why Jane Austen's idea of love endures," by a Ms. Meghna Pant; here's the link - Why Jane Austen's idea of love endures. Two things struck me: the author's insistence that in the Georgian era "Women were meant to be an insipid colourless form of existence. Doubling up as an author and social commentator, Austen shrugged aside this inherent patriarchy by writing about the individuality of women, by giving them personality, pride and prejudice, sense and sensibility," and her further claim that for an Austen heroine, "love is not made easier by chastity. Austen taught us that love and the "happily ever after" have nothing to do with virtue."
With all due respect, I beg to disagree. Women, from what I've read about the Georgian years and the early 19th century, may have been dependent on men, but they were certainly not devoid of personality, nor were they universally squelched under the metaphorical boot of patriarchy. For example, lady authors, including Maria Edgeworth, Fanny Burney, and Ann Radcliffe, were very well-known; Austen was aware of these precedents, and they inspired her. True, writing was rather looked upon as a man's profession, but that didn't stop these women (and the ones before them) from unleashing their creativity, nor the public from enjoying every word. Look at the history from these eras, and you'll find an abundance of fascinating females. What's more, the phrasing of Ms. Pant's statement implies that prior to Austen, women in fiction were a gaggle of simpering geese. To counter this opinion, I humbly refer the reader to the plays of Shakespeare and (for an 18th century example) Henry Fielding's 1749 novel The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling; the heroine, Sophia Western, is a proper lady, with a backbone of iron. She may swoon a time or two, but she's got a fierce streak of tenacity which enables her to keep hope that she will be eventually united with her beloved Tom.  
And as for the bit about chastity . . . think, for a moment, what Austen's heroes and heroines would be like without their virtue. If Darcy was a skirt-chasing rogue, would we love him less? Certainly. If Lizzy was a good-time girl, would we want her as a role model? No. The lead couples in Austen's novels are appealing because of their innate virtue; their romances are enthralling because their respectful behaviors towards each other are an exterior reflection of their interior purity of body and soul. Austen knew the worth and beauty of dignity. It permeates her novels - and it's something we can all strive for in our own lives. 

Nell Gwyn's 367th Birthday

Today is Nell Gwyn's 367th birthday - huzzah! To celebrate, I've taken an epilogue which John Dryden gave her at the end of his tragic play Tyrannic Love and tweaked it to sound as if she were addressing a modern audience. Note: the "Authors who made Nelly weep for shame" are the Victorian authors who wrote fictional tales with her as a character; they always put in a sentimental scene of her in tears for her sinful life, and the real Nell was much more pragmatic, according to accounts I've read. While those writers tried to whitewash her, more recent ones, especially novelists and playwrights, have focused on her sex appeal to the exclusion of her better qualities - her wit is downplayed, and she's shown as simply a pea-brained trollop. In reality, she was quite clever. Here's a link to the original epilogue: Tyrannic Love - Prologue and Epilogue.
And here's my version!

Nell:

I come, kind Audience, strange news to tell ye;
I am the ghost of dear departed Nelly. To tell you true, I walk, because I'm played Quite in the wrong, as a stupid maid. O Authors, curs'd dull Authors, who're to blame For rewrites, and made Nelly weep for shame! Nay, what's yet worse, to write me as a fool, Who lacked a wit and lived to make men drool! You playwrights: I'll not one word say To praise your nasty, in-the-fashion plays
Pieces which, when audiences do see, They all split their sides, but don't spy the real me. But farewell, everyone, 'tis been a treat, Remember me when'er an orange you eat. As for my epitaph, now I am gone, No need to Google it, I've writ my own: Here Nelly lies, who, though she lived by her looks, Was smarter than shown in those nonsense-filled books.

An Erroneous Portrait

I found out about this a while back - apparently, the following portrait, supposedly of Marie Antoinette around age eleven, from 1767, by Martin van Meytens, is in fact a painting of her older sister Josepha, who died in 1767. Presumably the work was completed prior to her death by smallpox.

Happy Twelfth Night and Epiphany!

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany, when the Three Wise Men visited the Infant Jesus, and yesterday evening was Twelfth Night, that is, the twelfth night after Christmas Day. It's the last night of the Christmas season, which ends on Epiphany, and since people generally want to drain the holiday festivities for all they're worth, the occasion has been celebrated with some form of merry revelry, from the Middle Ages to the present, especially (in old England) the tradition of servants and masters swapping places. This topsy-turviness supposedly was an inspiration for Shakespeare's comedy  Twelfth Night, so, to commemorate the feast, here's the trailer for the delightful 1996 film version of said play. Enjoy!

Happy New Year!

Dear friends,
I snatch this moment amid family frolics to wish you all a Happy New Year! May God fill the next twelve months with His peace and joy, and may He bless you beyond anything you could ever imagine. Lots of love!

- Izzy

Image: A screenshot I took of a still from the 1938 film Marie Antoinette starring Norma Shearer - her appearance is delightfully festive.

The First Christmas, Through Mary's Eyes

In honor of this holy night and joyous tomorrow, I give you an excerpt from The Life of Mary As Seen By the Mystics. This book is a compilation of visions in which Mary appeared to four Catholic mystics and gave them an inside look at both her life and Christ's; it has the Nihil Obstat and the Imprimatur, which state that the work is free from doctrinal/moral errors and can be safely read by devout Christians. It doesn't declare it to be gospel truth - the reader may believe it if he so chooses. The most interesting parts, in my opinion, are those in which they quote Mary directly (don't read her description of the Crucifixion without some tissues). Anyway, here's an excerpt from the Nativity chapter.

Toward midnight a channel of brilliant light came down from the highest heaven and terminated in sparkling fire at the Blessed Virgin. In it was an extraordinary movement of celestial glories which took on the forms of choirs of angels. 

Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the infant God was born, glorious and transfigured as on Mount Tabor.

There the God-Man lay, naked, utterly clean and pure. And from Him radiated such marvelous light and splendor that the sun could not be compared to it. The angels could be heard gently singing canticles of wonderful sweetness. 
When the Holy Mother of God perceived that she had been delivered - for her child came forth without any pain or injury to her - she immediately bowed her head, placed a cloth over his tiny body, and adored Him with the greatest respect and reverence, saying: "Welcome, my God, and my Lord, and my Son!" 
Then the divine Child suspended the effects of His transfiguration and assumed the appearance of one capable of suffering. The Babe now moved, shivered with cold, and stretching out His little arms, cried out. 
Bending down, Mary tenderly clasped Him to her heart and with great joy warmed Him against her cheek and breast, while thousands of angels knelt and adored their incarnate Creator. 

And in her own words: 

"And when I gave birth to Him, I brought Him forth without pain, just as I had conceived Him with such joy of soul and body that my feet did not feel the ground on which they were standing. And as He had filled my soul with happiness on entering my body, so did He again come forth in such a way that my whole body and soul exulted with indescribable joy and in such a way that my virginity was not impaired. 

How overwhelmed I was when I perceived and gazed at His beauty, and when I realized that I was not worthy of such a Son. And then, too, when I looked at the places where the nails would be driven into His hands and feet, how my eyes filled with tears and how my heart was torn with grief! And when my Son saw the tears in my eyes, He was sad unto death. 

But then, when I contemplated the power of His Divinity, I regained confidence, for I knew that it was His will and that it would be for the good, and I made my whole will conform to His. 

Thus my happiness was ever mixed with sorrow."

Merry Christmas, my friends!!

Image: The Nativity by Antonio da Correggio, circa 1529-1530