Sydney Owenson: Rituals and Political Reality through Saint Mary Magdalene in Her Narrative, 'Saint Clair'

Stained Glass Image of Mary Magdalene, surrounded by roses

from Google Images

From my book, Innovation in Rhetoric in the Writing of Sydney Owenson...
pp. 208-209:

In her novel, St. Clair, Owenson presents autonomy through her lexical choices to illustrate the dichotomy of ritual, be it societal or religious. In doing so, she presents the conundrum of political ritual, that of electing or promoting individuals into public office in order to appease an elitist few at the expense of the majority who must abide by the established legalities: 

I remember to have seen in a Benedictine convent at Vendome a relic which raised a considerable revenue to its possessors, from the superstitious devotion which was paid to it; it was a crystal vial, presented by an angel to Mary Magdalene, and supposed to have contained the tear dropped by her divine Reformer to the memory of his departed friend. The allusion may be profane; but my faded rose-leaf, with the tear of genius and sensibility, is to me what the sacred vial is to the monks of St Benedict; from a motive less devout, I confess, in one sense, but certainly more disinterested in another. (St. Clair, vol. I, pp. 166-167)

As Sydney Owenson interweaves the blind devotion to rituals of Catholics with those of the French Revolution, she carefully demonstrates the affiliation of church and state, contrary to legislative decrees in the British Act of Union 1801, which states that those of a particular religious affiliation would not be permitted to hold public office. Thus, those jurisdictions, which primarily consist of Catholic citizens, would not receive representation within the governmental forums and subsequently, would not receive legislation in their favor. Owenson presents this conflicting belief system by cleverly choosing Mary Magdalene, the woman chosen by a few selected medieval scribes to be represented historically as a woman scorned, yet in Owenson's narrative, St. Clair, Mary Magdalene is the source of a worshipped relic. In her revolutionary, albeit romantic, style, Owenson challenges her aristocratic audience to reconsider its dependence on ritualistic prejudice against the population it wishes to control. 

Owenson concludes this passage with a reference to a rose, her personal symbol for Ireland. She uses the adjectives, ‘faded, with a tear of genius and sensibility,’ to describe this weathered bloom. This incongruous set of descriptions for a flower held as a ‘sacred vial’ indicates a conflicted perspective. In the following sentence, she reveals with more clarity her conflict, “I confess in one sense but certainly more disinterested in another.” If Owenson attempts to confess to her reading audience her own disinterest in the viability of questionable sacredness in religious relics, she does so by linking her beloved countrymen and women with the possibilities of becoming more conscious of their political reality through their symbolic treasures, such as the weathered rose as the symbol of ancient luster.

Bicycle Dreams

Bicycle Dreams

Frozen flakes,

each one different from the next

tumble gently 

to fulfill their divine calling

reforming this landscape

into a wintry haven,

providing a cooling respite

for parked bicycles

which dream 

of the fun in the rolling 

through those good ol'

steamy 

'dog days' of summer. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can hear my reading of this poem, by clicking HERE. 

Phonology

I took this photo of Sydney Owenson's plaque on Kildare Street in Dublin a few years ago.

On the topic of phonology or phonetics, the study of the way humans combine sounds to create linguistic patterns, I give you a brief excerpt from my book: Innovations in Rhetoric in the Writing of Sydney Swenson (Lady Morgan, 1781-1859) and below that, a poem I wrote entitled, Cognizance. Enjoy! 

Steven Pinker discusses the impact of phonology and semantics as individuals experience sensory connections in their formation of new concepts:    

The phonemes and syllables in a word contact their counterparts in memory piecemeal, more and more of them finding a match as the milliseconds tick by. As soon as all the pieces match some entry, the irregular form linked to the entry is fetched and shunted to the vocal tract. While the lookup is in progress, the inhibitory signal sent to the rule box gets stronger and stronger, and when all goes well, the rule is braked to a halt. [1]

At this point, the individual synapses in the brain connect the familiar sound with a specific memory. 

---

[1] Steven Pinker, Words and Rules: The Ingredients of Language, (New York: Harper, 2011), p. 130.

*****************************************************************

Cognizance (Alliterative Antics)

Jung's is collective

containing collaborative

but chaotic compositions

carefully calculated

to create clear cut

caricatures of cranial

cacophonies in crazy

and occasionally corny

creatures who care

about causes and effects.

But mine is coincidental, 

caught between 

casual and coiffure

occasionally quaint,

consistent and tranquil

cautious,  concerned

a creatively concocted 

course of action, 

convoking acquaintances

to collaborate and affect.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem, please click HERE.)

Heart and Mind Coalescence

Art by Alex Grey, entitled, 

Heart Consciousness

In her 1807 book, Patriotic Sketches of Ireland, Sydney Owenson observes:

Political philosophy is an extension of the mind’s eye to the whole great scale of civil society, and demonstrating the close-linked dependencies of its remotest parts, affords to the benevolence of the human heart, and the comprehension of the human understanding, a social system, gratifying to the feelings of the one, and ennobling to the faculties of the other. (33)

The human heart and 'comprehension of understanding,' are two distinct entities, for the heart, aside from its organic characteristics, contains the very essence of human perceptions. 

In contrast, comprehension of understanding involves the assimilation of intelligence and critical analysis as they interact with the psycho-physiological structure to form a wondrous flow of human affability. 

Harmony

One heart ~

beating strong

beating true

sings

One song ~

through melodies sublime

envelops

Two lives ~

circuitous, refined

coalesce

Two souls ~

ennobled

by the One.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Imre Madach's "The Tragedy of Man," Revolution and Knowledge

Photo: Illustration from website: http://www.wga.hu/html/z/zichy/index.html 

In The Tragedy of Man (1860), Hungarian playwright, Imre Madach, reveals the inherent spirit within humanity to resolve differences through knowledge. This play, consisting of fifteen scenes, depicts the first couple, Adam and Eve, in paradise whereby Eve questions the validity of the Lord’s request to deprive the couple of all knowledge. In her exchange with Lucifer in Scene II, she philosophizes:

Why should he punish? For if he hath fixed

The way that he would have us follow, so

He hath ordained it, that no sinful lure

Should draw us otherwhere; why hath he set

The path athwart a giddy yawning gulf

To doom us to destruction? If, likewise,

Sin hath a place in the eternal plan,

As storm amid the days of sunlit warmth,

Who would the angry storm more guilty deem

Than the life-giving brightness of the sun? (Scene II)

After leaving the garden of Eden for tasting of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, Adam and Eve fall asleep in their new home and experience a number of historical events to become aware of the many ways humanity has grown into self knowledge, beginning in Egypt, where the couple learns of personal glory. Adam then longs to learn of humanity’s struggle for the good of nation, through experiences in ancient Athens, Greece. They discover hedonism in ancient Rome, Christianity in the form of knighthood of the middle ages, where he also discovers medieval fanaticism. This leads to his search for sense in the sphere of Johannes Kepler. However, in the world of Emperor Rudolph, Adam moves on to the French Revolution, where he encounters the deceit of Danton and the ultimate failure in humankind’s ability to execute a lasting revolution. He becomes disenchanted with humanity at the London Fair. In the final scene, Eve tells Adam of the upcoming birth of their second child. She foreshadows:

If God so will, a second shall be born

In sorrow, who shall wash them both away

And bring upon this wide world, brotherhood.

Well, we all know what happened with that relationship, so Imre Madach, who places the burden of man’s struggle at the hands of the woman, also illustrates that humanity has within its grasp the ability to seize control over its destiny as the heavenly choir of angels sings:

…Yet in the glory of thy road,

Let not the thought thee blind

That what thou dost in praise of God

Is wrought of human mind.

Think not the Lord hath need of thee

His purpose to fulfill,

And thou receivest from Him grace,

If thou mayest work His will.

The Lord responds: O Man, strive on, strive on, have faith; and trust! (Scene XV)

Therefore, Imre Madach reveals, through the artistry of his writing, his intense belief that within its own consciousness, humanity has the ability to advance harmonic relevance from dissonant experience, for he presents Eve as the mother of humanity with the conviction that her children will move humanity forward in their quest for true knowledge. (Lakatos 2007)

On a Cashew Nut

Once, the Poetry Bus poetry group request for us was to write a poem on something on which we would normally not write... literally.

Well, that particular week, we had been having a100+º heat wave here in Connecticut, and my brain had definitely melted.... So, I took my teeny tiny 'PreciseV5' purple pen and wrote the following haiku on a cashew nut. Graffiti for ants! A fun activity! Here is the photo of my creative endeavor:

Cashew Haiku

On this nut I write

I, this nut, write on

cashew deliberation

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click HERE.

An Exercise in Metaphor

Here's a little metaphor exercise for you: 
1.  Close your eyes, and breathe deeply for a few minutes. 
2.  Open your eyes. 
3.  Write down the very first thing that you focus on. 
4.  Describe ten possibilities that this object could be. 
5.  Now apply those possibilities to yourself.
6.  Write down these possibilities.
7.  Viola! Your metaphor! (for today anyway)


To begin: a beeswax candle
  1. light
  2. warmth
  3. sweet scent
  4. colorful 
  5. melted wax could be made into new candle
  6. melted wax could be made into an ornament
  7. melted wax could be used to strengthen thread
  8. remolded and given as a gift 
  9. inspiration for a poem
10. creates peaceful ambience 

My metaphor: 

Teaching, playing music, and writing that hopefully enlightens,

my kindness could add warmth to someone's life.

Some have said I am sweet, 

and honeysuckle oil is my fragrance of choice.

My choice of clothing often is quite colorful, 

yet I renew my perspective of life 

through humble, daily prayer.

Once, I played the role of an 'ornament,'

but through my tears (melted wax), 

I have gained inner strength.

As I continue to redefine myself, 

hopefully, 

my contributions become gifts to this lifetime. 

I don't know if I've ever been an inspiration for a poem, 

but I am inspired by others daily.

I love peace: 

peace of mind, peace on earth, peace- love- joy! 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Now, you try! 

Flow from Within

I took this photo of the beautiful St. Stephen's Green in Dublin, Ireland.

Whilst deciding to post this 'flow' poem, little did I know that some of my own life experiences would correspond with the poem's theme, written years ago. This phenomenon is a fine illustration of our emotional revolutions. Even though our lives may go through certain trials and tribulations, through the blessings of Divine Love, I've realized, as this poem states, that we have the power within to "release the blissful flow," and I'm determined to do just that.

Flow from Within

Spewing angst 

from the odium,

I ache 

for benevolence

and tolerance 

to stream

 through this tarnished conduit,

praying for the chance to feel

agony evolve 

into opportunity,

releasing 

the blissful 

flow.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Arachnid's Aim

 Once, I observed a lovely spider, busily spinning her web, and I proceeded to write the poem below. 

A spider's web suspended from my deck

Arachnid's Aim

One by One by One by One by One by One by One by One,

she extends her reach into the world, 

Glad that she yet retains eight strong, healthy appendages. 

Her sisters' are damaged, maimed, broken, or lost, 

but hers are vibrant, able to take her

to any destination she beholds as sacred. 

Now, she extends her reach into the world.

Carefully, gracefully, she moves along this space,

arranging each extension in its proper place, 

allowing a Hopeful Touch to capture the attention

of one who will see her radiance

and share her iridescence with lasting, hopeful bliss.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can hear me recite this verse by clicking the link HERE.

Out of the Fog

I took this photo in Dublin, Ireland...after being lost in Dun Laoghaire for hours.

I thought it was amazing that a small white cloud seemed to surround the light on the lamp post.

Head 

out of the fog,

and soon, 

distortion dissipates. 

Recognition 

of a flawed distinction 

leads to a 

Renaissance.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

From my Operetta, Luminescence: Rhododendron (Thoughts of Anne Sexton)

There exists a balance of positive and negative in life, and in my operetta, Luminescence, I address this through the spirit voice of Anne Sexton and her associated flower, Rhododendron.

 

                                                 Photo from the site: Summerhillgardencentre.co.uk

Rhododendron: Dark Thoughts

(from my operetta, Luminescence)

From the corner of the garden,

a fierce wind buffets 

branches of the Rhododendron.

Now enters the looming danger 

of love’s despair.

Begonia, Narcissus,

and Southernwood

all bode a feeling of lost love

in the midst of this glorious

locus amoenus.

Anne whispers: 

Rhododendron is my flower’s name,

I bring dark thoughts

into this world of fragrance.

I make the lives of my seed

and the surrounding seeds

suffer as I do.

Humanity has attached meaning 

to our nature, proclaiming

that we ignore

the pleas of the world

within our hearts, 

so we suffer the association

with human frailties:

vanity, melancholy, heartbreak. 

But here in this garden, I now see: 

The beauty in our lives

does indeed surround us,

even in our darkest moments,

even in those isolated

hours of despair.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem, please click HERE.)