Lanced Hearts of Lovers & Martyrs
I'm Eric, a young poet who seems to have been swept away in the Romantic Spirit of Beethoven's Symphonies, struck by the philosophies of Plato & the Poets' lyrics, burned for love like the martyrs of Rome, and can see an honest beauty in love & faith.
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seattle theme by parker ehret
White smoke rises as the world burns.
& up from the ashes of the Suicide of our century’s World,
a phoenix to our souls cries “Peace” against the War.
But not a sound breaks the thunder or the shells,
Or the deaf-tone cheers of olden hearts,
set for glory no further than our external shore.
Tribute to Benedict XV, Vicar elct. 1914.
Fun-fact of my life: For the past 2 years I’ve styled my beard after Tzar Nicholas II. And for no other reason than the fact that I like his parenting style.
Somewhere deep down inside,— although I don’t really run too big a risk of getting shot in the head by Bolshevik revolutionaries any time soon—-, I’ve felt that I’m gonna be a father, a husband, and a man, a lot like Nicky was someday. For better or for worse.
Édouard Manet,
Portrait of Émile Zola, 1868, Musée d’Orsay
Just had the pleasure of being introduced to this fine Frenchman. I can’t believe I’ve never read anything of his already. ‘Got a feeling M. Zola and I’ll be enjoying each other’s company quite a bit for the time being.
The history of Man lies somewhere between these notes…
La Mamma Morta- ‘Mother Death’, aria from Giordano’s Andrea Chénier.
Within the tragic song, the life of the fallen countess Maddalena is told— how her mother perished saving her in the flames of her childhood house (‘the home that craddled me is burning!’) by the hands of the French Revolution; how her maid, the only faithful love she knew thenceforth, ‘sold her beauty’ into prostitution to care for her— But yet, when all light was gone, and any hope she found in life had died away, the Strings of a new theme break the old, and she sings,
It was then, in my grief,
that love came to me.
A voice full of harmony says,
“You must live, I am life itself!
Your heaven is in my eyes!
You are not alone.
I shall collect all your tears
I will walk with you and support you!
Smile and hope! I am Love!
Are you surrounded by blood and mire?
I am Divine! I am Oblivion!
I am the God who saves the World
I descend from Heaven and make this Earth
A heaven! Ah!
I am love, love, love.”
And the angel approaches with a kiss,
and he kisses death -
A dying body is my body.
So take it.
I am already dead matter!
—She sings all this of her new-found love in Andrea Chénier; a poet ever enthralled in Truth and Beauty— whom with she is to share in his death in the final scene, at the guillotines of St. Lazare Prison.
"Day by day, hour by hour, Pain drips upon the heart
As, against our will, and even in our own despite
Comes Wisdom from the awful grace of God."
Francois-Andre Vincent, Alcibiades Being Taught by Socrates, 1777, Oil on canvas, Musee Fabre, Montpellier
"In the midst of the tyranny of the persecutors, an innumerable throng of people, both simple and learned, flocked to the Christian faith. In this faith there are truths proclaimed that surpass every human intellect; the pleasures of the flesh are curbed;…. This wonderful conversion of the world to the Christian faith is the clearest witness…. For it would be truly more wonderful than all signs if the world had been led by simple and humble men to believe such lofty truths, to accomplish such difficult actions, and to have such high hopes."
