Declining Roast Beef

I may have mentioned before that I'm teaching Latin to my daughter, Aimee. This year I went with a new Latin curriculum, Latin for Children. I got the kit, including the instructional DVD. We started on it this week. It is excellent. It's got Aimee running around the house chanting Latin declensions and conjugations. She is genuinely excited about Latin, and I am thrilled.

I know it's only the first week, but the curriculum seems to have exactly the right mix of rigour and fun that I was looking for to grab my fourth grade daughter. I hate to buy (expensive) curriculum online without having an opportunity to preview it. But I went ahead and got it based on the catalog description and now, I'm glad I did.

Now if Aimee ever finds herself in a position like Master Tom Tulliver from the Mill on the Floss did, she will know that it's better to decline the Latin word for roast beef than to decline the roast beef itself at the dinner table. At least she won't have to leave the dinner table hungry.

Here's one of my favorite excerpts from The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot:

Not that Mr Stelling was a harsh-tempered or unkind man - quite the contrary: he was jocose with Tom at table, and corrected his provincialisms and his deportment in the most playful manner: but poor Tom was only the more cowed and confused by this double novelty, for he had never been used to jokes at all like Mr Stelling's, and for the first time in his life he had a painful sense that he was all wrong somehow. When Mr Stelling said, as the roast beef was being uncovered, `Now, Tulliver! which would you rather decline, roast beef or the Latin for it?' - Tom, to whom in his coolest moments a pun would have been a hard nut, was thrown into a state of embarrassed alarm that made everything dim to him except the feeling that he would rather not have anything to do with Latin: of course he answered, `Roast beef,' - whereupon there followed much laughter and some practical joking with the plates, from which Tom gathered that he had in some mysterious way refused beef, and, in fact, made himself appear `a silly.'

Speaking Pieces

Today my son Eric started "back to school". I get to drive him. I could rant about how it took 35 minutes to go 3.2 miles from our house to the High School where he started his sophomore year today. But I won't. Instead, here's reminder of days when schools were simpler and expectations were higher.

It's describing an afternoon at school when all the children recited poems or speeches that they had memorized for the occasion. If you want to read some popular poetry from that time period, (1878) click on the names of the pieces.


An exerpt from Under the Lilacs by Louisa May Alcott

Speaking Pieces

The next day was Wednesday, and in the afternoon Miss Celia went to hear the children "speak pieces," though it was very seldom that any of the busy matrons and elder sisters found time or inclination for these displays of youthful oratory. Miss Celia and Mrs. Moss were all the audience on this occasion, but Teacher was both pleased and proud to see them, and a general rustle went through the school as they came in, all the girls turning from the visitors to nod at Bab and Betty, who smiled all over their round faces to see "Ma" sitting up "'side of Teacher," and the boys grinned at Ben, whose heart began to beat fast at the thought of his dear mistress coming so far to hear him say his piece.

Thorny had recommended Marco Bozzaris, but Ben preferred John Gilpin, and ran the famous race with much spirit, making excellent time in some parts and having to be spurred a little in others, but came out all right, though quite breathless at the end, sitting down amid great applause, some of which, curiously enough, seemed to come from outside; which in fact it did, for Thorny was bound to hear but would not come in, lest his presence should abash one orator at least.

Other pieces followed, all more or less patriotic and warlike, among the boys; sentimental among the girls. Sam broke down in his attempt to give one of Webster's great speeches, Little Cy Fay boldly attacked

"Again to the battle, Achaians!"

and shrieked his way through it in a shrill, small voice, bound to do honor to the older brother who had trained him even if he broke a vessel in the attempt. Billy chose a well-worn piece, but gave it a new interest by his style of delivery; for his gestures were so spasmodic he looked as if going into a fit, and he did such astonishing things with his voice that one never knew whether a howl or a growl would come next. When

"The woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed; "

Billy's arms went round like the sails of a windmill; the "hymns of lofty cheer" not only "shook the depths of the desert gloom," but the small children on their little benches, and the school-house literally rang "to the anthems of the free!" When "the ocean eagle soared," Billy appeared to be going bodily up, and the "pines of the forest roared" as if they had taken lessons of Van Amburgh's biggest lion. "Woman's fearless eye" was expressed by a wild glare; "manhood's brow, severely high," by a sudden clutch at the reddish locks falling over the orator's hot forehead, and a sounding thump on his blue checked bosom told where "the fiery heart of youth" was located. "What sought they thus far?" he asked, in such a natural and inquiring tone, with his eye fixed on Mamie Peters, that the startled innocent replied, "Dunno," which caused the speaker to close in haste, devoutly pointing a stubby finger upward at the last line.

This was considered the gem of the collection, and Billy took his seat proudly conscious that his native town boasted an orator who, in time, would utterly eclipse Edward Everett and Wendell Phillips.

Sally Folsom led off with "The Coral Grove," chosen for the express purpose of making her friend Almira Mullet start and blush, when she recited the second line of that pleasing poem,

"Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove."

One of the older girls gave Wordsworth's "Lost Love" in a pensive tone, clasping her hands and bringing out the "O" as if a sudden twinge of toothache seized her when she ended.

"But she is in her grave, and O,
the difference to me!

Bab always chose a funny piece, and on this afternoon set them all laughing by the spirit with which she spoke the droll poem, "Pussy's Class," which some of my young readers may have read. The "meou" and the "sptzz" were capital, and when the "fond mamma rubbed her nose," the children shouted, for Miss Bab made a paw of her hand and ended with an impromptu purr, which was considered the best imitation ever presented to an appreciative public. Betty bashfully murmurred "Little White Lily," swaying to and fro as regularly as if in no other way could the rhymes be ground out of her memory.

"That is all, I believe. If either of the ladies would like to say a few words to the children, I should be pleased to have them," said Teacher, politely, pausing before she dismissed school with a song.

"Please, 'm. I'd like to speak my piece," answered Miss Celia, obeying a sudden impulse; and, stepping forward with her hat in her hand, she made a pretty courtesy before she recited Mary Howitt's sweet little ballad, "Mabel on Midsummer Day."

She looked so young and merry, and used such simple but expressive gestures, and spoke in such a clear, soft voice that the children sat as if spell-bound, learning several lessons from this new teacher, whose performance charmed them from beginning to end, and left a moral which all could understand and carry away in that last verse, -

"'Tis good to make all duty sweet,
To be alert and kind;
'Tis good, like Littie Mabel,
To have a willing mind."

Of course there was an enthusiastic clapping when Miss Celia sat down, but even while hands applauded, consciences pricked, and undone tasks, complaining words and sour faces seemed to rise up reproachfully before many of the children, as well as their own faults of elocution.

List of Speaking Pieces:

Marco Bozzarisby Fitz-Greene Halleck

John Gilpinby William Cowper

Song of the Greeks by Thomas Campbell: Again to the battle, Achaians!

Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Coral Grove By James Gates Percival

Lost Love by William Wordsworth

Pussy's Class

Little White Lily by George MacDonald

Mabel on Midsummer Day by Mary Howitt

God is Watching

I ran across this while web surfing this morning here, and I thought it was so funny I wanted to share it:

Thanks to Steve Brown in his book Scandalous Freedom: I am reminded of a convent school where a basket of apples sat on the dining room table. A note under the basket said, "Take only one. God is watching."

At the other end of the dining room sat another basket filled with chocolate-chip cookies. In a child's handwriting, a note under the basket read: "Take all the cookies you want. God is watching the apples."

The entire article is well worth reading also:
Leader's Insight: Why Must We Always Criticize? The tension between honesty, contentment, and encouragement by Gordon MacDonald

Unbecoming Jane

I was looking forward to seeing the new Jane Austen biopic, Becoming Jane. My dear husband agreed to go see it with me, which pleasantly surprised me.

However, the movie itself was not a pleasant surprise. I knew going in that the story was mostly fiction, based loosely on Jane Austen's "romance" with Tom Lefroy. I knew that the filmmaker's vision of who Jane Austen was would be different from mine, and I was prepared for that. What I wasn't prepared for was that they would make Tom Lefroy into a spineless, womanizing "cad" who more closely resembled "Mr. Wickham" than "Mr. Darcy". I just can't believe that Jane Austen would fall for someone like that.

I had the pleasure of viewing Miss Potter on DVD recently. Miss Potter is a biopic based on the life of the children's book author, Beatrix Potter. Now that was a pleasant surprise! Superb acting, superb scenery, music, costumes, the whole thing worked. Unfortunately, Becoming Jane, didn't work, at least for me.

If you're interested, most of what is known about the relationship between Jane Austen and Tom Lefroy comes from Jane Austen's letters. The only three that mention Tom Lefroy are below. I found out after I watched the movie that Tom did name his oldest daughter Jane, and that he told someone late in his life that he had once loved Jane Austen. So, there was some basis for the premise of the movie. I just wish that they had given the characters more "character". According to the first letter below, Jane says he was a "very gentlemanlike, good-looking, pleasant young man." Well at least the movie got the "good-looking" part right.



From Jane's letters:

"He is a very gentlemanlike, good-looking, pleasant young man, I assure you. But as to our having ever met, except at the three last balls, I cannot say much; for he is so excessively laughed at about me at Ashe, that he is ashamed of coming to Steventon, and ran away when we called on Mrs Lefroy a few days ago."

letter to Cassandra
January 9, 1796

"After I had written the above, we received a visit from Mr Tom Lefroy and his cousin George. The latter is really very well-behaved now; and as for the other, he has but one fault, which time will, I trust, entirely remove--it is that his morning coat is a great deal too light. He is a very great admirer of Tom Jones, and therefore wears the same coloured clothes, I imagine, which he did when he was wounded."

letter to Cassandra
January 9, 1796

Tell Mary that I make over Mr Heartley & all his Estate to her for her sole use and Benefit in future, & not only him, but all my other Admirers into the bargain wherever she can find them, even the kiss which C. Powlett wanted to give me, as I mean to confine myself in future to Mr Tom Lefroy, for whom I do not care sixpence."

letter to Cassandra
January 14, 1796

Sky Watching

Tonight is a great night to do some sky watching. The annual Perseid meteor shower reaches its peak tonight between 11pm and dawn tomorrow. It's a good year to catch the shower because the peak coincides with a new moon, so there will be less moonlight to hinder the view.

A few years ago our family got up at 2am to camp out on our trampoline and watch the meteor shower show. It was amazing. Shooting stars burst across the sky every few seconds. It was better than a fourth of July fireworks show.

For information on when and where to watch, here's a link to an MSNBC article, Night Owls Make the Most of the Meteors.

On Great Authors and their Libraries

I collect stories and quotes about books and libraries. I ran across this piece at WNYC about "Loving Libraries". It features three "stories about the power of libraries to alter lives and draw out surprising aspects of ourselves."
The three stories are:

Clavino's A General in the Library, "in which a team of military men sent into the national library of a fictive town to week out subversive literature find themselves disarmed."


Ray Bradbury's Exchange which "documents a twilight encounter between an overworked librarian and a lonely soldier, returning to the one place that gave him pleasure as a child."

The third is from author Edith Wharton's memoirs, entitled, Backward Glance:Henry James, it describes how her friend Henry James and his "impassioned readings (of works by Walt Whitman and Emily Bronte, among others) used to entrance her in the very library to which her books have returned."

I should mention that the WNYC piece was done in honor of the return of Edith Wharton's (2.6 million dollar) rare book collection to the library at her home, The Mount, in Massachusetts.

Here is an excerpt from Edith Wharton's memoir about the pleasures of listening to great literature read aloud in her library:

"One of our joys, when the talk touched on any great example of prose or verse, was to get the book from the shelf, and ask one of the company to read the passage aloud. There were some admirable readers in the group, in whose gift I had long delighted; but I had never heard Henry James read aloud-- or known that he enjoyed doing so-- till one night some one alluded to Emily Bronte's poems, and I said I had never read "Remembrance." Immediately he took the volume from my hand, and, his eyes filling, and some far-away emotion deepening his rich and flexible voice, he began:
Cold in the earth, and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave,
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?

I had never before heard poetry read as he read it; and I never have since. He chanted it, and he was not afraid to chant it, as many good readers are, who, though they instinctively feel that the genius of the English poetical idiom requires it to be spoken as poetry, are yet afraid of yielding to their instinct because the present-day fashion is to chatter high verse as though it were colloquial prose. James, on the contrary, far from shirking the rhythmic emphasis, gave it full expression. His stammer ceased as by magic as soon as he began to read, and his ear, so sensitive to the convolutions of an intricate prose style, never allowed him to falter over the most complex prosody, but swept him forward on great rollers of sound till the full weight of his voice fell on the last cadence."

http://www.swarthmore.edu/Humanities/kjohnso1/jameswhitman.htm

http://www.wnyc.org/shows/shorts/episodes/2006/12/17

C.S. Lewis on Great Literature

But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do. (C.S. Lewis, An Experiment in Criticism)

C.