I finished reading The King’s Cavalier by Samuel Shellabarger, and I must say I enjoyed it immensely. I then proceeded to look up some information about the author on the web and found out that he was a professor at Princeton and then the headmaster of a private girl’s school. He said that the girls’ school provided more scope for the imagination than teaching at Princeton. He wrote four historical novels: Prince of Foxes (the one I read long ago and loved), The King’s Cavalier (set in Rennaissance France), Captains from Castile ( with Cortez in Mexico) and Lord Vanity. His books were very popular when they were first published in the 1940’s, and Captains from Castile was made into a movie. He might have written more if he had not died of a heart attack in March 1954.
Archive | January 2004
Ann Taylor
Today is also the birthday of Ann Taylor (b. 1782) who along with her sister Jane published several books of poems for children. Among the poems she and sister Jane wrote was the well-known Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. I found an online copy of a book of the sisters’ poems entitled Little Ann. I liked this poem best. Most of the poems are about little children who misbehave and what will happen to such naughty little boys and girls–refreshingly politically incorrect in this day and age when we’re supposed to pretend that they’re behaving even when they’re not.
The Chatterbox by Ann Taylor
FROM morning till night it was Lucy’s delight
To chatter and talk without stopping:
There was not a day but she rattled away,
Like water for ever a-dropping.
No matter at all if the subjects were small,
Or not worth the trouble of saying,
‘Twas equal to her, she would talking prefer
To working, or reading, or playing.
You’ll think now, perhaps, that there would have been gaps,
If she had not been wonderfully clever:
That her sense was so great, and so witty her pate,
It would be forthcoming for ever;
But that’s quite absurd, for have you not heard
That much tongue and few brains are connected?
That they are supposed to think least who talk most,
And their wisdom is always suspected?
While Lucy was young, had she bridled her tongue,
With a little good sense and exertion,
Who knows, but she might now have been our delight,
Instead of our jest and aversion?
The illustrations, by Kate Greenaway, are delightful.
Tuchman and Alexander
Today is the birthday of both Barbara Tuchman and Lloyd Alexander. I am very fond of Tuchman’s book, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous Fourteenth Century, a history of France during the high Middle Ages. However, I must enjoy reading about the Middle Ages more than I like reading about WW I because I have yet to finish The Guns of August. Lloyd Alexander is one of my favorite fantasy authors (after CS Lewis and Tolkien, of course).
We’ve been having a Green Acres marathon around here for the past few days. We borrowed a DVD of a dozen or so episodes, and my children have enjoyed the silliness immensely.
Quotation for the day: “Getting used to new wallpaper is like trying to push a purple straw hat through a keyhole.” –Mr Haney
Oliver comments to Lisa: “Don’t even try to understand.”
Sabine
Very interesting. I see in my book that today is the birthday of Sabine Baring-Gould.
I ask myself, “Who is this Englishwoman? Some writer of romantic novels, perhaps?”
No, indeed, Sabine is a man. He was a Victorian archaelogist, clergyman, architect, artist, teacher, novelist, historian, theologian, and collector of English folk songs. He learned six languages between the ages of three and sixteen. Then, he attended Cambridge University. He also wrote the hymn, “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” According to an article I read, “tales of his eccentricity abound.” He became interested in a mill girl named Grace whom he took out of the mills, educated at his own expense, and then married. It is said that their romance was the basis for the play Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw. Sabine and Grace were married for some forty plus years and had fifteen children, of whom fourteen lived to adulthood. Not a bad percentage.
I almost believe the following story told about him:
“Although Sabine Baring-Gould had 15 children it appears he had little understanding of them. Apparently at a children’s party one evening he called to a young child, “And whose little girl are you?”
The child burst into tears and said “I’m yours, Daddy”.
This could happen with fifteen children. This could happen with eight children.
Time Changers
Tonight we watched the movie Time Changers. It had an interesting premise, but suffered from being somewhat didactic. I think it would be a good movie to show my worldview students next year and get their comments. The movie attempted to demonstrate that morality without faith in the person of Christ himself is worse than useless and leads ultimately to immorality because there is no foundation upon which to base moral judgements. It is interesting that the controversy in Alabama last year over Judge Roy Moore’s Ten Commandments monument hinged, for many, on this very issue: can a system of law and justice that is forcilbly disengaged from its foundation long endure as law? Law without the Lawgiver is shaky and easily overturned.
Robert Burns
The “official” Robert Burns website is excellent. It has all his poems (over 500 of them), biographical material, stuff for sale, free e-cards that you can send to people, and links to all things Scotch (or is it Scottish?). Also, I found on the website instructions on how to host a Robert Burns Day Supper. Apparently, the only rules are that this supper should include haggis, poetry, and Scotch whiskey and should be held on or near the date of January 25th, Burns’ birthday. I think it’s too late to plan one this year, but I’m aiming for next year. I also have to figure out what we “teetotallers” drink at a Burns Supper. I’m not truly a Scot, I guess, because I’m also not sure I can handle haggis. Partial list of Ingredients: beef liver, lamb kidneys, lamb shoulder, and oatmeal.
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
An’ ev’n devotion!
Edith Wharton
Today is Edith’s birthday. I read Age of Innocence a couple of months ago and wrote about it here on my blog. I remember reading Ethan Frome a long time ago, but I don’t remember much about it. The plot involved some kind of sledding accident, I believe. Anyway, I think Edith Wharton is interesting, somewhat disturbing and subversive. Right now I’m reading The King’s Cavalier by Samuel Shellabarger. Prince of Foxes (by the same author) is a fun historical fiction book set in Renaissance Italy. I think I’m going to enjoy this one, too, set in France in the 1500’s.
Lord Byron Was Byronic
I just looked up the word “byronic” in the dictionary, and it means “of, like or characteristic of Byron or his writings, romantic, passionate, cynical, ironic, etc.” I just thought it meant tall, dark, and handsome, and I also thought Lord Byron, whose birthday is today, was supposed to BE wildly good-looking. Here’s the best picture I could find; you see what you think.
Maybe you’re more impressed than I am–or maybe I’m just being Byronic (cynical). Anyway, I did always like this scrap of poetry by Byron–even though I’ve heard people quote it Byronically (cynically and ironically):
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that ‘s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
It would be fun to have that written about me.
A Heart, a Cross, and a Flag by Peggy Noonan
I finished reading Peggy Noonan’s book, A Heart, a Cross, and a Flag. It’s a good book. Some of it I’ve read before since I started reading her weekly columns in the Wall Street Journal about a year and a half ago, and the book was really a compilation of selected columns. She’s a very good writer, quite insightful, sometimes disconcertingly Catholic, usually thought-provoking. She’s not afraid to tell people to pray–and to admit that she prays. We need a lot more journalists who pray and mention it casually and seriously.
Birthday of Edgar Allan Poe
Today is the birthday of the man who wrote my favorite poem. Note that he’s not necessarily my favorite poet, but he did write Annabel Lee, my favorite poem. I’m not sure why it’s my favorite poem; I just like the sadness and the romanticism and sound of the words.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;–
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love–
I and my Annabel Lee–
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:–
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we–
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:–
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea–
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
From Pooh to Poe–what DOES this say about my tastes in literature?