Sauron the Deceiver

 From Gamerant:

The Rings of Power are some of the darkest and most mystical objects in Middle Earth. They were devised by Sauron as a part of his scheme to conquer the world and have dominion over all who dwell there. There are 20 rings in total, 9 for the lords of men, 7 for the dwarven kings, 3 for the elves, and of course, the one ring itself, the master weapon to corrupt all of the others, and bring them into the service of Sauron.

The rings have a dark history however, and they were originally all intended for the elves, rather than men or dwarves. Sauron taught Celebrimbor to make the original 16 rings, known as the lesser rings, and into them he poured his will and his malice, ensuring that those who accepted them would eventually fall to his power. But Celebrimbor created the 3 elven rings away from Sauron’s watchful gaze, giving the elves time to flee and hide them somewhere safe, out of the reach of Sauron’s corruption. (Read more.)

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"Through Henriette’s Eyes"

From Mark Spencer at The Historical Novel Society:

Charles Stuart, then Prince of Wales, first set eyes on Henriette in 1623. She was dancing at the Louvre, and he was passing through Paris on his way to Spain seeking, unsuccessfully, the hand of a Spanish Habsburg princess. My Queen, My Love tells their story primarily through Henriette’s eyes (captured hauntingly on the cover image, her portrait painted by Van Dyck). Through Henriette’s first encounters with Charles, their marriage, and earliest years as a royal couple, Vidal’s historically informed account captures their nuanced relationship, fraught with the difficulties posed by Henriette’s deep-seated Catholicism playing out in Protestant England.

Other themes—like the period’s reverence for astrology—remind us of how foreign the seventeenth century can seem to modern manners. Vidal may be at her best, though, when recreating specific historical events or when weaving her narrative with its myriad of historical actors—a “List of Characters” helps readers tally more than eighty of them. Take George Villiers, the strikingly handsome and always scheming, Duke of Buckingham. Charles’ lifelong best friend, “Steenie” is a merciless thorn in Henriette’s side. Still, some will hope Vidal’s Henriette and Charles are more richly developed in coming volumes. The action is sure to peak as the English Civil War threatens. For those interested in learning more about the period’s people and events, Vidal’s useful bibliography—spanning nonfiction and fiction—provides leads to the works of several prominent historians. (Read more.)

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At a Crossroads

 From The Nation:

For more than a century, The New York Times Book Review has been one of the most influential, if not most august, institutions in American letters. This rarefied status is largely attributable to its endurance. Once upon a time, every major newspaper had a books section. Some, such as the Chicago Tribune and the San Francisco Chronicle, even had their own stand-alone supplements. But after decades of contraction in the news business, dedicated books divisions have all but perished. Among the daily newspapers, just the Book Review remains. Its only real competition now comes from general interest magazines that tend to cover roughly the same number of books in a year as the Book Review does in a month

For such a durable institution, it is striking that The New York Times Book Review has mostly remained devoted to the template for book reviewing it adopted in the early 20th century. The editors cover the book world as if it were any other news beat: They assign reviews that tend to be informative rather than interpretative, telling readers what books are being published, how relevant the new releases are to current affairs, which of them might be worth purchasing, and which authors are on the rise. According to an early unsigned letter from its editors, the supplement aimed to serve as “an open forum for the discussion of books from all sane and honest points of view.” That modest ambition remains in place today, even if, in practice, “sane and honest” can often mean avoiding provocative arguments in favor of reviews that are evenhanded and descriptive. As its recently departed editor, Pamela Paul, put it in 2018, “The Book Review has a long tradition of being a political Switzerland.”

The Book Review’s pursuit of fairness and balance has become one of its signatures over the decades. While many literary magazines ask reviewers to weigh in on a book primarily because of the strength of their opinions, the Book Review’s pages often seek to be a retreat from the ideological debates raging among intellectuals and the commentariat. In the Times’ view, this gives its reviews an authority that surpasses what can be found elsewhere. “In my mind there’s an almost platonic notion of what the center is,” explained one of the Review’s editors, Barry Gewen, in an interview from 2018, “and we try to bring the discussion to the center.”

 Not everyone shares the Book Review’s sense of its own magisterial restraint. A policy of moderation can not only end up endorsing the status quo embodied by “the center” but all too often also make for drab reading, prompting repeated criticism over the years—most famously articulated in Elizabeth Hardwick’s 1959 salvo for Harper’s Magazine, which charged that the Book Review’s “absence of involvement, passion, character, eccentricity” meant that it served as “a sort of hidden dissuader, gently, blandly, respectfully denying whatever vivacious interest there might be in books or in literary matters generally.” Versions of Hardwick’s complaint have persisted into the 21st century: Rather than offering criticism that sparks the passion of its readers, the Review instead tends to foster the polite, banal atmosphere of a book club. As critic Christian Lorentzen noted in a 2019 Harper’s article, “the Times seems to have lost its sense of its audience’s intelligence.” (Read more.)

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A Mysterious Map

 From Ancient Origins:

On a chilly winter day in 1929, Halil Edhem, the Director of Turkey's National Museum, was hunched over his solitary task of classifying documents.  He pulled towards him a map drawn on Roe deer skin. As Halil opened the chart to its full dimensions (two feet by three feet wide or 60 X 90 cm) he was surprised by how much of the New World was depicted on a map which dated from 1513. The document was the legacy of a pirate turned Turkish Admiral, Piri Reis ( circa 1470-1554). He was born in Gallipoli, a naval base on the Marmara Sea and was the nephew of Kemal Reis, a pirate who had reinvented himself as a Turkish Admiral adventurer who had made his name in naval warfare. At the time, the distinction between pirate and Admiral was more flexible than might be expected from looking back through a Hollywood lens. Piri Reis sailed with his famous uncle from 1487 to 1493. During these voyages, he was introduced to the lucrative spoils of piracy. The fleet fought pirates and captured and plundered enemy ships. In 1495, Kemal Reis’ great skill in the art of battle earned him an invitation to join the Imperial Turkish Fleet. His nephew accompanied him to his new assignment. The pirates were transformed into respectable Admirals. (Read more.)

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Egyptian Blue

 From Ancient Origins:

Egyptian Blue, also known as calcium copper silicate, is one of the first artificial pigments known to have been used by man. The oldest known example of the exquisite pigment is said to be about 5000 years old, found in a tomb painting dated to the reign of Ka-Sen, the last pharaoh of the First Dynasty. Others, however, state that the earliest evidence of the use of Egyptian blue is from the Fourth Dynasty and the Middle Kingdom, around 4,500 years ago. Nevertheless, by the New Kingdom, Egyptian Blue was used plentifully as a pigment in painting and can be found on statues, tomb paintings and sarcophagi. In addition, Egyptian blue was used to produce a ceramic glaze known as Egyptian faience. 

 Its characteristic blue colour, resulting from one of its main components — copper — ranges from a light to a dark hue, depending on differential processing and composition. If the pigment is ground coarsely, it produces a rich, dark blue, while very finely-ground pigment produces a pale, ethereal blue.  It is made by heating a mixture of a calcium compound (typically calcium carbonate), a copper-containing compound (metal filings or malachite), silica sand and soda or potash as a flux, to around 850-950 C. 

 In Egyptian belief, blue was considered as the colour of the heavens, and hence the universe. It was also associated with water and the Nile. Thus, blue was the colour of life, fertility and rebirth. One of the naturally blue objects that the Egyptians had access to was lapis lazuli, a deep blue semi-precious stone  which could be ground up into powder, although this was a luxury item and had to be imported from Afghanistan. Therefore, it is not too surprising that the Egyptians sought to produce a synthetic pigment to use as a substitute for the blue lapis lazuli.

The manufacture of Egyptian Blue eventually spread beyond Egypt’s borders, and can be found throughout the Mediterranean. Egyptian Blue has been found in numerous Greek and Roman objects, including statues from the Parthenon in Athens and wall paintings in Pompeii. Despite its extensive application in art, Egyptian Blue ceased to be used, and its method of production was forgotten when the Roman era came to an end.

In the 19 ^th century, Egyptian Blue was re-discovered. The excavations at Pompeii revealed that many wall paintings had Egyptian Blue on them, and this prompted scientists to investigate the exact composition of this pigment.  Since then, researchers have gained a much deeper understanding of its unique properties.  Experiments found that Egyptian Blue has the highly unusual quality of emitting infrared light when red light is shone onto it. This emission is extraordinarily powerful and long-lived, but cannot be seen by the naked eye, because human vision does not normally extend into the infrared range of the light spectrum. In addition, scientists unexpectedly discovered that Egyptian Blue will split into ‘nanosheets’ – a thousand times thinner than a human hair – if stirred in warm water for several days.  Scientists now believe that its unique properties may make Egyptian Blue suitable for a variety of modern applications. (Read more.)

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American Individualism

 From The Public Discourse:

Social conservatives used to have a much more nuanced understanding of the development of modern liberalism out of the medieval Christian world. Our insistence on individual immortality, an idea hammered home by the almost preposterous teaching of the resurrection of the body, ought to make Christians dyed-in-the-wool individualists.

What’s wrong with good old-fashioned American individualism? This question has been simmering for a long time—at least since the end of the Cold War, when conservatives had to decide whether they were allowed to fully celebrate a victory over the dead body of socialism, or whether we needed to beat our own breasts with mea culpas for our own virulent individualism.

We learned from such converts from Marxism as Alasdair MacIntyre and Elizabeth Fox and Eugene Genovese that, while Marxism was not the solution, the Marxist critique of liberal individualism was so radically true that I guess we could say we are all communitarians now. Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s writings about the Gulag were not as widely circulated as his Harvard Address, which served up a pretty even-handed critique of Russian communism and the soulless individualism of the West.

Before the end of the Cold War, the term “individualism” was not thrown around so frequently as a term of abuse, even by Christian conservatives, because of the more evident, ghastly effects of socialism—both the National Socialism of Germany and the international socialism of the USSR and its allies. Yes, there was some effort to distinguish conservatives from Ayn Randian individualists, or to tame “individualism” to Christian purposes by the use of the term “personalism.” But the Marxist critique of bourgeois individualism stuck like clay: it was hard to divest the notion of the individual of the filthy connotations of materialism, consumerism, and selfishness. Still, conservatives did not publicly attack the belief in the value of the individual human person, invested with God-given dignity and rights.

In the twenty-first century, that has changed. (Read more.)

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The Medieval Village Hierarchy

 From Ancient Origins:

When we mention the medieval hierarchy today, some clear-cut connections start popping up immediately – castles, lords and knights, peasants and serfs. And it is no strange thing that these images are quickly associated with a medieval village – because it is a closely accurate depiction of what the social classes were like back then. Of course, it was slightly more complex than that, but you get the gist of it. Power was the crucial driving force of medieval society – land holders and lords were the ones who held all influence.

Of course, the highest title in a medieval society was that of a ruler – usually the king. The law bringer king had the highest authority in his realm and brought all important social and economic decisions. The royal household that consisted of princes, princesses and the queen was directly below him in the hierarchy, and was often present at the courtly meetings and involved in big decisions.

As you might expect, royal families of the medieval period were rarely idyllic and functional – the greed of the nobility was a well-known thing, and heirs to the throne would more than often attempt to usurp the throne. Fathers were murdered, sons exiled, and brothers assassinated. But those who held power would always emerge victorious. And power was flesh – manpower would win wars and resolve conflicts. The more adherents a ruler had, the more power.

For the large part of the medieval period and the era of feudalism, and throughout much of Europe, a system called manorialism was in effect. The manorialism system revolved around the lord of the manor, a feudal lord who either held his lands directly from the crown, or was a vassal of another, more powerful lord. (Read more.)

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A Teatime Ode to 'The Enchanted April'

 From Victoria Magazine:

Celebrating its centennial of publication, this charming tale by Elizabeth von Arnim follows four female characters—strangers drawn by an ad bidding “those who appreciate wisteria and sunshine” to retreat to a castle on the shores of the Mediterranean. Escaping London for a joint holiday in Italy, the women develop new friendships that are remembered here with afternoon tea.

In The Enchanted April, when Mrs. Wilkins, Mrs. Arbuthnot, Mrs. Fisher, and Lady Caroline venture to ancient villa San Salvatore, the four often come together at teatime. Where the author leaves specifics of fare served to the imagination, chefs in our test kitchens enrich the story with a vibrant menu that infuses the beloved English ritual with robust Italian flavors. A fitting introduction, Panettone Scones present fruit-studded cake that originated in Milan in the form of quintessential tea bread, offered with mascarpone and preserves. (Read more.)

 

Here is a review of the film Enchanted April:

There are times when winter seems endless, not only winter the season, but winter the state of mind, the "winter of my discontent," as Shakespeare put it. Enchanted April is about four women who feel trapped by the various winters of life: Lottie and Rose by their futile and unhappy marriages, Mrs. Fisher by old age, and Lady Caroline by boredom and dissipation. They decide to rent a castle in Italy for the month of April to escape their troubles. The castle has a sun-bathed garden full of wisteria; in the gallery is an ancient but serene portrait of the Virgin, whose blessing seems to emanate upon the company. The women are rejuvenated and begin to experience hope.

The film is based upon a novel by Elizabeth von Arnim. According to Turner Classic Movies:

An Australian born British novelist, von Arnim was as flamboyant as the heroines of her romantic yet psychologically probing novels. Her first husband was a Prussian count, and she lived a life of privilege, writing about it in her autobiographical first novel, Elizabeth and her German Garden (1898). Left penniless by her husband's death in 1910, she turned to writing full time. After an affair with novelist H.G. Wells ended in 1916, she impulsively remarried. That marriage was a disaster, and in 1919 she fled to Portofino, Italy, where she stayed in a castle that inspired her to write the novel about the power of beauty to soothe and transform troubled souls.

Just as there are seasons of coldness and death, there are seasons of life and regeneration. There are times of retreat and spiritual renewal, which can occur in a place of exterior beauty, or in the interior castle of the soul. To me, Enchanted April celebrates that certain season of grace which comes to those who sincerely seek it, especially those who are ready to be healed.

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How Socialism Infiltrated the Church

 From TFP:

To understand the crisis inside the Church, one must first look at the processes that led to the present situation inside the Church. The roots of this crisis extend much farther back than the times of the Second Vatican Council. It can be seen in the appearance of Christian Socialism in the nineteenth century. Indeed, the first manifestations of Christian Socialism came directly from the French Revolution and thus predated social Catholicism.

During the French Revolution, there were factions that, taking the motto of “liberty, equality, fraternity” to its ultimate consequences, adopted communist positions. The most prominent representative of this trend was François-Noël Babeuf, called Gracchus (1760—1797). “The French Revolution is nothing but the precursor of another revolution, one that will [be] greater, more solemn, and which will be the last.”

“His idea,” says historian Pierre Gaxotte, “is that the Revolution had failed because it had not been carried out to the end. All the measures it had taken were good. . . But this was just a first step toward the ‘radical reform of property,’ that is, toward ‘the community of goods and works.’  Obviously, full collectivism would have been dictatorial.”

For those radical factions, one had to eliminate not only the king in the State but also the “king” in society—the employer—and the king in the family, that is, paternal authority. The clearly utopian dream of a perfectly egalitarian and free society without classes, property or the monogamous family loomed then on the horizon. (Read more.)

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