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

"I Have Been Very Negligent"

Last Friday, Jane Austen (may she rest in peace) turned 421, and I had a lovely tea with my mother and some friends of ours to celebrate the occasion. For whatever reason, I didn't feel the need to write a florid post in honor of dear Jane (hence the post title, a quote from Henry Tilney), but I've since decided that such an auspicious event deserves some mention, so here goes - better late than never! I give you these two little poems which I hope will please.

Lydia Bennet

Her dancing eyes, her jaunty look,

A head which ne’er peeped in a serious book,

Her bouncing gait, her saucy curl,

All make her a silly, dear girl.

She was my first Jane Austen friend,

And our connection will ne’er end.

Miss Jane Austen 

Lizzy met Darcy while at a ball,

Their mutual dislike made quite a muss; 

Neither knew then that in love they would fall - 

Their sweet story is called Pride and Prejudice. 

Emma made matches, until she was burned;

Young Frank adored another. 

Then of Knightley's true love she learned,

And he became more than her brother. 

Miss Morland and Tilney both loved to read,

Though she sometimes was a bit silly, 

Till she found that he really loved her, indeed,

Because she was pure as a lily. 

For these tales and others we often get lost in,

Let us thank the dear authoress, Miss Jane Austen!

Images: An illustration for chapter 15 of Pride and Prejudice by H.M. Brock (the scene in which Denny introduces Wickham to the Bennet girls), and a still from the 2007 ITV version of Northanger Abbey. 

A Bit of Fragonard

One of my favorite 18th century paintings, The Love Letter by Jean Honoré Fragonard, circa 1770. 
I adore her robe à la Française (the sack back gown, an informal style worn around the house in those days), her cap, and the exquisite lighting. Her pretty little half-smile makes me think she'd be a fascinating, witty friend. 

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Dear friends,
I want to wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving - I'm truly grateful for each and every one of you. Have a blessed, joyous day, and know that God adores you more than you can imagine.

Love,
Izzy

Image: The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth, by Jennie A. Brownscombe, 1914.

Nell Gwyn's Death Day

On this day in 1687, at 10:00 p.m., to be precise, Nell Gwyn, one of the first actresses on the British stage and Charles II's most well-known mistress, died in her house in Pall Mall, London. Why am I bringing her up? Well, last spring I was casting about my metaphorical fishing line to see if any vivid story ideas would bite; I'd had a curious interest in this woman for years, noticing various references to her in history and literature, and as I wondered if some inspiration would come, she grasped the end of my line, yanking me in headlong. I was captivated by her spunk and zest for life; by the end of the summer, I'd completed a screenplay of 63 pages, which I then revised to create the current version (77 pages, the longest work I've ever written).  It traces her rise from serving drinks in her mother's bawdy house, to treading the boards of the stage at the King's Playhouse (the current Theatre Royal in Drury Lane), to strolling the halls of Whitehall, Charles II's palace. 

In my narrative, I chose to focus on her good qualities, since too often she's seen as a stupid strumpet who used her sexual allure to get whatever she wanted, and there was much more to her than that. Her mind was especially keen; she was known for her wit, and became one of the most beloved actresses of her time, delighting audiences with her spot-on comedic timing. True, she made some less-than-moral life choices, but the Restoration period in England (from 1660, when Charles II returned from exile and restored the monarchy after Oliver Cromwell's death, to circa 1688, when Charles's younger brother, James II, abdicated) was a very decadent era - after the Puritanical interval known as the "Interregnum," during most of which Cromwell held power (1649 -1660), people were ready to cut loose. And cut loose they did, especially when Charles set the fashion with his own rather reckless pleasure-seeking - among his good deeds, though, was his 1662 decree that women's roles should be played by women. He got the idea from the French theatres (he'd been living in France for much of the Interregnum).
His relationship with Nell, from all accounts, was one of genuine affection and love; on his deathbed, in fact, he told James, "Let not poor Nelly starve." She wrote to James later that Charles "was my friend and allowed me to tell him all my griefs and did like a friend advise and told me who was my friend and who was not," and that she had "never loved your brother or your self interestedly," that is, merely for her own gain. 

I shan't give away all the details (I'm not even sure if my work will amount to anything), but I didn't want the day of her death to pass without giving it some acknowledgment. In the name of all actresses, both established and aspiring, who enliven their audiences' hearts with great good humor, I say: "Thanks, Nelly!" 

Image: A close up of Sir Peter Lely's portrait of Nell, titled Mrs. Eleanor Gwyn ("Mrs." was sometimes a courtesy title, especially for actresses).