Today is Resurrection Sunday and also the birthday of Christopher Smart, a poet and writer of popular songs, who was at least border line mentally disturbed. He wrote a famous poem about his cat, Geoffrey, and how said cat worshipped the Lord. He also wrote a poem called Song to David about David and the Psalms and how God speaks through the psalms of David.

Samuel Johnson on Christopher Smart, from The Life of Johnson:
“Madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. My poor friend Smart showed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. Now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question.”

Concerning this unfortunate poet, Christopher Smart, who was confined in a mad-house, he had, at another time, the following conversation with Dr. Burney.
BURNEY. “How does poor Smart do, Sir; is he likely to recover?”
JOHNSON. “It seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease; for he grows fat upon it.”
BURNEY. “Perhaps, Sir, that may be from want of exercise.” J
JOHNSON. “No, Sir; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. Indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the alehouse; but he was carried back again. I did not think he ought to be shut up. His infirmities were not noxious to society. He insisted on people praying with him; and I’d as lief pray with Kit Smart as any one else. Another charge was, that he did not love clean linen; and I have no passion for it.”

I missed the following authors who recently had birthdays:

April 7:
Hugh Blair, Scottish professor of rhetoric (1718-1800): “Worry not about the possible troubles of the future; for if they come, you are but anticipating and adding to their weight; and if they do not come, your worry is useless; and in either case it is weak and in vain, and a distrust of God’s providence.”
Mary De La Riviere Manley (1663-1724), British writer who was a political ally of Swift: “No time like the present.”
John Sheffield, 3rd Earl of Mulgrave, Duke of Buckingham and Normanby, English courtier, soldier, statesman, essayist and poet (1648 – 1721): “Learn to write well, or not to write at all.”
William Wordsworth, English romantic poet (1770-1850): “To begin, begin.”
(That’s about as succint as Wordsworth ever got.)

April 8:
Phineas Fletcher, English poet (1584-1650): “Ah, Foole! faint heart faire lady n’ere could win.”
William Wycherley, Restoration dramatist (1641-1715) “Women serve but to keep a man from better company.”
I could turn Wycherley’s quotation around and add that his attitude wouldn’t win many ladies either.

I found this on Max and Liz Goss’s blog: a column in National Review Online on the importance of the Battle of the Alamo. The author first reprints Travis’s letter to the people of Texas and the world:

To the People of Texas & all Americans in the World ?
Fellow Citizens and Compatriots ?

William Barret Travis Lt. Col.

Then, he goes on to say that “it would be a serious mistake to underestimate the influence of Alamo imagery on almost every generation of American youth.” Yeah, go Texas!!

Margaret Oliphant (1828-1897) was a Victorian novelist, born either on April 3rd or 4th. (I found both dates.) She wrote and had published over 100 novels in her lifetime; she said that she was so prolific because she relied on her writing to support her extensive and extended family. She outlived her husband and all seven of her children. Her novels are about English country life, religion, and male/female relations. Oliphant was said to be Queen Victoria’s favorite novelist. I think I’ll add one of her books to my reading list, perhaps Miss Marjoribanks, “a comic narrative of domestic and clerical life.”

I like this quote: “Oh, never mind the fashion. When one has a style of one’s own, it is always twenty times better.” I don’t know which of her novels this one comes from, but I definitely agree with the sentiment.

Here’s another spring poem, this one by A.E. Houseman whose birthday is also today.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
Continue reading →

Today is the birthday of one of my favorite poets, Robert Frost. I was reading some of his poems here, and I came across this one:

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Continue reading →

I found this prayer in an article by Chris Schlect at Credenda Agenda while blog browsing tonight. I think I’ll teach Z (2 years) and Bee (5 years) this prayer:

Heavenly Father,
You are good,
and holy,
and righteous,
and just.
We are sinful
because of Adam
and because
of what we have done.
Thank you for Jesus,
who gave to us
His righteousness
and took from us
our sins.
Thank you for the saints,
for baptism,
for the bread and the cup,
and for all good things.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

I looked up Lady Anne Fanshawe since she was in my birthday book for today and found that she was married to a royalist diplomat, lived during the Restoration (Charles II), and had fourteen children. She wrote a memoir which was published a century or two after her death. I tried to read some of the memoir online, however, I’m fairly sure that books are going to be around for a long time. Reading a blog or a column online is one thing, but trying to read a book online is miserable. I’m not sure why. I didn’t even make it through the introduction. Give me a paperback (or a hardback) that I can take with me where ever I go. I think I’ll go to bed and read P.G. Wodehouse. I’ll wait for Lady Fanshawe’s memoir to come out in paperback.

(This was written by Eldest Daughter for a college class–based loosely on parts of Petrarch’s Secretum.)
Dear Diary, Monday
I?ve been really depressed for a while now, so today I decided to go see a shrink. Normally I think that psychologists make people worse than they are in the first place, but I’m kind of desperate. I mean, I’ve been miserable for quite a while, and I don’t seem to be getting better, despite my efforts to get myself out of this rut. So this morning I picked up the phone book, flipped to the P’s, and picked a name at random– Dr. Vera Veritas. I dialed the number and set up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon at three. I don’t have much hope for the interview, but we’ll see how it goes.
Yours,
Frankie

Dear Diary, Tuesday
When I got to her office, Dr. Veritas showed me into a small room, and asked me to wait for a few minutes. When she came back, she brought an old man with her, introduced him to me as St. Augustine, and explained that he was better qualified to talk me through my problems. This was clearly some kind of joke, but I decided to suspend my disbelief and go along with it. This was our dialogue:
Augustine: What seems to be the problem?
Frankie: Well, you know, I’m depressed.
A: Not nearly depressed enough.
Continue reading →