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Post by Maolsheachlann on Sept 30, 2017 18:54:10 GMT
I enjoy everything our beloved Papa B wrote.
I'm reading The Blindness of Doctor Gray by Canon Sheehan and very much enjoying it. I started reading it before, not too long ago, but gave up. I also read The Triumph of Failure recently. I feel Canon Sheehan is at his best when he's writing about Catholicism, directly-- when the thoughts and conversations of the characters are upon spiritual matters. When he descends to the mundane and writes about the everyday life of the working classes and the lower classes, however, he becomes very tedious-- lots of broad humour and caricature. The central character is a gruff old parish priest who has a very puritanical view of the clerical calling and criticizes his young curate for reading secular literature, playing the piano, and generally being too worldly. This is of great interest to me because I often wonder, as a Catholic, how much attention I should pay to non-Catholic culture and philosophy. In truth, I often feel the gruff old parish priest makes a lot of sense.
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Post by Maolsheachlann on Oct 4, 2017 12:41:33 GMT
I've just finished The Blindness of Dr. Gray, and thoroughly enjoyed it-- well, I enjoyed the bits about the priests. The main story involved a very by-the-book, legalistic parish priest who spends his leisure hours reading the dryest and most rigorous theology. His curate is a slightly more with-it young priest (but bear in mind that this is set in the nineteenth century, so "with it" means reading Goethe and other secular writers). The best part of the novel is their discussions and their own inner reflections.
Then there's a lot of tiresome stuff, on the "streaky bacon" principle of Wilkie Collins, involving land disputes and gypsies and smuggling and two brothers in love with the same woman and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..... (The book was published in 1909, but it's thoroughly nineteenth century.) These nineteenth century authors do love to pad out their novels with lots of melodramatic stuff. I don't mind bulky novels-- The Stand and It by Stephen King are amongst my favourites novels, though they both run over a thousand pages-- but the author's heart has to be in it. With these melodramatic sub-plots that old novelists indulge in, they really seem to be shovelling it in for the sake of it.
The basic message of the book is that love is higher than the law. A sound maxim, if understood in the orthodox sense Canon Sheehan intended it. However, it's so abused these days, I almost felt like burning the book in case it fell into the wrong hands...
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Post by Maolsheachlann on Nov 19, 2017 18:52:20 GMT
I've just finished reading Idylls of the King by Lord Alfred Tennyson. From at least my early teens Tennyson has been one of my favourite poets. I've always loved "Ulysses", "The Chorus of the Lotos Eaters", "Locksley Hall", and (most relevant here) "The Passing of Arthur". "The Passing of Arthur" is a blank verse account of King Arthur's death which Tennyson wrote quite early in his career. Over many years, he added other stories to this to make "Idylls of the King", which is a series of twelve narrative poems, set against the background of King Arthur's foundation of Camelot and its subsequent decline. Each of the Idylls tells a different story, and there is a narrative thread through them all, but it's not written as one continuous tale. The basic narrative thread is this: King Arthur, with the help of Merlin, founds the order of the Round Table and the city of Camelot in order to bring peace to a chaotic Britain, which is torn between the Roman legions and pagan tribes. The Idylls describes the Round Table's foundation, success, and ultimate decline and dissolution.
It's hard to believe that the Idylls were an enormous success at the time of their publication (though they were published over a period of years). It seems like nobody reads this kind of long poetry now, other than academics. I must confess I made several efforts in the past to read them and gave up. I'm glad I persisted.
The story is a very dark one. It's much more concerned with the fall of Camelot than with its splendour. As most people will know, Arthur's queen Guinevere commits adultery with his foremost knight, Lancelot. This original act of disloyalty seems to spread contagion through Camelot, and one by one almost all the characters are corrupted in one way or another.
The actual delineation of this corruption is very fine. One of the later idylls is called "The Holy Grail". In this story, many of the knights of Camelot take a vow to seek the Holy Grail -- an English nun has seen a vision of it. But this, too, is a symptom of degeneration, since King Arthur (who is absent when these vows are made) berates his knights for seeking spiritual excitement rather than following the knightly vows they had already taken. And, indeed, the Grail Quest is a terrible failure-- only a third of the knights return, and most of them never see the Grail.
Throughout the Idylls, King Arthur is blamed by various characters for demanding ideals which are too high and which are impossible to fulfill. Indeed, Arthur himself wonders at times if this is not true. Guinevere tells Lancelot that she falls in love with him because Arthur is almost inhuman in his idealism; "For who loves me must have a touch of earth". It's interesting that Idylls was written at the height of the Victorian era, since Victorian England has often been lambasted for its hypocrisy and double standards. This is a debate that seems to recur in many different contexts: should we have exalted standards which are difficult to attain, and run the risky of hypocrisy, or should we be more realistic? As a romantic I am rather on the side of King Arthur.
The poem dramatises the backlash against idealism when one of the Round Table's most idealistic knights, Pelleas, becomes so horrified at the corruption within Camelot that he becomes an utter nihilist. He reinvents himself as the Red Knight and creates an anti-Camelot whose vows are all the opposite of Camelot's, and declares war on King Arthur.
An even more interesting departure from Arthur's idealism is the knight Tristram, who is a proponent of naturalism and realism. I think Tennyson's insight into human nature must have been quite deep, because I've noticed that Tristram-like figures very often come along, in human history, after a period of idealism. The speech in which he admits his lack of belief in King Arthur's ideals is often quoted by critics (I've read up on the poem quite a bit), and it reminds me of the fall from idealism after the winning of Irish independence, when the Irish people essentially gave up on the Irish language and other ideals of cultural renewal, and just concentrated on bread and butter issues:
[King Arthur] seemed to me no man, But Michael trampling Satan; so I sware, Being amazed: but this went by--The vows! O ay--the wholesome madness of an hour-- They served their use, their time; for every knight Believed himself a greater than himself, And every follower eyed him as a God; Till he, being lifted up beyond himself, Did mightier deeds that elsewise he had done, And so the realm was made; but then their vows-- First mainly through that sullying of our Queen-- Began to gall the knighthood, asking whence Had Arthur right to bind them to himself? Dropt down from heaven? washed up from out the deep? They failed to trace him through the flesh and blood Of our old kings: whence then? a doubtful lord To bind them by inviolable vows, Which flesh and blood perforce would violate: For feel this arm of mine--the tide within Red with free chase and heather-scented air, Pulsing full man; can Arthur make me pure As any maiden child? lock up my tongue From uttering freely what I freely hear? Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it.
This is reminiscent of Kevin O'Higgins, a very hardheaded Irish politician of the post-independence period, who insisted that the programme of the first Dáil was "mostly poetry."
Speaking of poetry, the sheer lyricism of the poem is a great part of its appeal. There are sublime passages throughout, but the best one to quote is probably the most famous, the exchange between the dying King Arthur and Sir Bedivere, the only other surviving knight of the Round Table, after everybody else has been killed in a battle against the traitorous knight Mordred and his faction. Much in this passage is very relevant to conservatives:
Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere: "Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead, When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight. Such times have been not since the light that led The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. But now the whole Round Table is dissolved Which was an image of the mighty world, And I, the last, go forth companionless, And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds."
And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: "The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
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Post by cato on Dec 5, 2017 20:00:45 GMT
Has anyone read any of Dorothy Mc Ardle's (She of the Irish Republic tome) ghost stories? Two of them have just been reissued after 60 odd years.
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Post by Maolsheachlann on Dec 5, 2017 20:44:12 GMT
Never. And I'm interested in horror. Only realised she wrote ghost stories a few months ago.
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Post by cato on Dec 5, 2017 21:31:29 GMT
She was a member of that strange amazonian band - a 1930s Fianna Fail feminist who made her views on women and their public roles known to the chief on occasion. They didn't always see eye to eye.
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Post by cato on Jan 1, 2018 20:13:32 GMT
Looking back (which is all we ever do here) on 2017 what books would you recommend to others that you have read during the year?
I am enjoying Patrick Kavanagh's collected poems at the moment. I don't know if he qualifies as a conservative as he was scathing of the pieties and orthodoxies of his time but he has a deep love of the rural the local and the spiritual. I got a copy of the Atlas of the Irish Revolution by Cork University Press for Christmas, which despite its title is more of a gloriously colourful and comprehensive encyclopedia of the revolutionary era. It does have a strange section on the Magdalene institutions but no mention of mental institutions or corporal punishment, which were also deplorable prominent features of life at the time. The book is largely but not excusively free of the unreadable sludge called "Theory". Deo Gratias. It's a treat for anyone with an interest in the period. God bless the good folk of the C.U.P.
On a religous note Cardinal Sarah's book on silence is a gem. The Benedict Option was thought provoking and is a book I intend to reread shortly. I think I was going to post on it here but got distracted. Finally I read St John Paul's letter on the rosary which helped me appreciate one of the great devotions of the church. Highly recommended.
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Post by Maolsheachlann on Jan 1, 2018 22:07:32 GMT
Idylls of the King by Lord Alfred Tennyson.
I recommend it in the sure and certain knowledge that nobody ever reads long poetry, and therefore the chances of anyone reading it are equivalent to Dana getting a thrice-weekly column in the Irish Times.
It's hard to remember what else I read, without consulting my diary.
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Post by Séamus on Jan 8, 2018 7:51:36 GMT
Idylls of the King by Lord Alfred Tennyson. I recommend it in the sure and certain knowledge that nobody ever reads long poetry, and therefore the chances of anyone reading it are equivalent to Dana getting a thrice-weekly column in the Irish Times. It's hard to remember what else I read, without consulting my diary. I can't remember now whether I read it in 17 or late 16, but one book it might be pertinent here to remember is a small university-published biography, THE MAYNE INHERITANCE, the story of a would-be Irish dynasty. Patrick Mayne emigrated to Queensland in the 1840s,a Northern Irish Catholic who married a Western Irish protestant, whose relationship with the Church seemed better at times than his own. Mixed marriages weren't unusual in Australia due to the small population of the day. Mayne was a butcher. Shortly after an horrific murder he started his own business and became a success in the growing Brisbane metropolis and eventually served on the city council. It was always rumoured that he had committed the murder and stolen a large sum from the victim. At his death Mr Mayne reportedly confessed that he had in fact been responsible for the killing. The children were largely successful,one was a doctor, but all seemed to suffer from mental illness. The people of Brisbane attributed every unsolved murder to the family. One became Mercy Sister, even she had to be restrained for long periods - interesting that nobody generally left religious orders at the time no matter how serious the condition was. The family are of interest to the University of Queensland because most of the family fortune was eventually used to purchase the land which is now their main campus. Dr James Mayne gave up medicine at a fairly young age for a life of philanthropy, largely because of perceived psychopathic tendencies. His introverted lifestyle only fueled rumours- he was seen as a type of jack-the-ripper, responsible for any corpse found on Brisbane's streets,a city that was only emerging from it's wild-west epoch. None of the five children had children of their own, something that the writer thinks was subconsciously deliberate. The main hall of U of Q today is Mayne Hall, but in the absence of a sizeable sign, most students, she said, just think it's the Main Hall. A convenient name at least.
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Post by Séamus on Jan 18, 2018 0:37:45 GMT
I've just finished a short 1960 book, original edition I think., THE WANDERING SAINTS, Eleanor Duckett. It covers missionary work from the fall of the Roman Empire to the 900s. The period of time makes it a bit rarer than most hagiography. Irish monks feature quite a bit. I ended up looking up to see if there was a St Bede church or chapel anywhere in Ireland. Didn't seem to be. Any. A bit unfortunate. Although he wasn't a great fan of Celtic customs,a lot of our information about some Irish saint missionaries comes solely from him. And he did still have admiration for many of their qualities.
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Post by cato on Jan 19, 2018 16:14:48 GMT
I've just finished a short 1960 book, original edition I think., THE WANDERING SAINTS, Eleanor Duckett. It covers missionary work from the fall of the Roman Empire to the 900s. The period of time makes it a bit rarer than most hagiography. Irish monks feature quite a bit. I ended up looking up to see if there was a St Bede church or chapel anywhere in Ireland. Didn't seem to be. Any. A bit unfortunate. Although he wasn't a great fan of Celtic customs,a lot of our information about some Irish saint missionaries comes solely from him. And he did still have admiration for many of their qualities. The venerable Bede was very critical of aspects of the "celtic" Church like monastic tonsures and a rival date for Easter. Although his argument won out he is a very English figure who never acquired an Irish following or cult. As you mention he had a high regard for the holiness of Irish saints and is in some ways ironically the author of the Irish Saints and Scholars concept.
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Post by Séamus on Feb 15, 2018 11:56:22 GMT
Am almost finished a 2007-published biography of Australia's first cardinal,Carlow-born Patrick Moran. One of his thrusts shortly after the nation's independence was to try to get the state of New South Wales to make St Patrick's day a civil holiday!
"Moran's nature was combative, not conciliatory. Soon after his return he launched an unpopular attack on the New South Wales government for deciding not to make permanent the St Patrick's day holiday it had proclaimed over the last three years. Most Australians could not care about St Patrick's day -or St Andrew's day or St George's day - and the government action was sensible, but to Moran it was 'a concession to anti-catholic bigotry' and 'an insult to Irish sentiment'. When Premier John See rejected his demand for a holiday Moran dashed a letter off to E.W O' Sullivan, minister for public works, and a Catholic, threatening 'a day of reckoning at the polls'. O'Sullivan gave the letter to the press, and they had a field day. Moran then decided to omit the toast to 'the government ' at the St Patrick's day banquet"
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Post by Maolsheachlann on Feb 15, 2018 12:24:59 GMT
Well, between Mannix and Moran, it sounds like you had some pretty feisty prelates over there-- and then there's Pell!
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Post by Séamus on Feb 15, 2018 12:56:07 GMT
Well, between Mannix and Moran, it sounds like you had some pretty feisty prelates over there-- and then there's Pell! One could well turn stories of the past on their head and ask whether we aren't a bit too 'conciliatory' now. Strangely, when Moran was Bishop of Ossory he was extremely aloof from Irish nationalism and politics.
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Post by Séamus on Apr 26, 2018 13:47:58 GMT
Before starting INSPIRATION FROM THE SAINTS,I, naturally, had a quick flick through the pages to see the outline of the book and it brought to my mind a book I'd been through the previous month, it having had a mutual photograph of St Elizabeth of the Trinity. The 1987 published LIGHT LOVE LIFE, published by the Order, is really a so-called coffee-table book. For those who haven't seen a copy, every known photo of the saint was included, as well as many of her family and friends (and a few coloured scenic photos for inspiration). The text mostly consisted of captions and excerpts from the Saint's letters and poems. The early photos are typical romantic, Renoir-like ,19th century family scenes. Of course, the photos taken in Carmel contrasted greatly. Unusually for the time, the nuns actually possessed a camera. Oddly, the two things that stuck me the most when reading it had little to do with holiness. The author explained that her widowed mother, Mrs Catez, was actually years younger than she looked- she had aged prematurely through a nasty snakebite. It's not a situation I'd associate with living in France or with contemplative Saints. The appearance of an extroverted young man in several photos stood out also. He was a Mr (Charles)Hallo, from a family close to the Catezes. In one photo he is performing in a play dressed as a woman- full Victorian-style dress and wig. It's said the last line Elizabeth ever wrote was directed at him- she told someone to tell him that she'd love him no less in Heaven. Would it be irreverent to suggest her as patron of helping those with cross-dressing inclinations?
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