Wednesday, October 18, 2017

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.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

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.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

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 


Saturday, April 22, 2017

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)

Friday, April 21, 2017

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!

Sunday, April 16, 2017

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.
(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 - 1442by Fra Angelico 

Sunday, April 2, 2017

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.