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