The Materialistic Maiden

Where I sip coffee and judge everyone.

Happy Birthday, Thomas Lovell Beddoes!

tlb_portrait_branwhite2This strange, eccentric, dark poet, dramatist and physician of the nineteenth century was quite the odd fellow of his day. Beddoes, born July 20, 1803,* at Rodney Place, Clifton, was born to parents Anna and Thomas Beddoes (show below). Thomas Beddoes, who passed when Lovell Beddoes was only five years old, was a prestigious physician, and his mother was related to acclaimed novelist, Maria Edgeworth.

thomas_beddoes anna_beddoes

Beddoes’ earliest writing, written at just fourteen or fifteen years old, was “Cynthio and Bugboo,” written somewhere between 1817-1819. His next big piece, written in 1819, was the “Bride’s Tragedy,” which is one of his more famous and known works today. He was known to be mischievous in school, but was greatly interested in Elizabethan drama and continued to write into college. Attending Oxford, just his freshman year he released a pamphlet called the “Improvisatore,” however he made great attempts, later on in college, to rid of all evidence of these pieces. In 1822, he published the “Bride’s Tragedy,” which then took onto great praise by critics, and he was deemed a budding writer.

According to the Phantom Wooer online, “In an unpublished letter in 1824 Procter describes Beddoes as ‘innocently gay, with a gibe always on his tongue, a mischievous eye, and locks curling like the hyacinth…’” Just a little later, his mother passed away, and Beddoes was unable to see her for she had passed before he reached her. This put a hold on his career, however he graduated in 1825 with a bachelor’s and then took off to working on new pieces including “Torrismond,” one of his other very well known works today. He also began his great work, “Death’s Jest-Book.”

In July 1836, he went back to college at the university of Göttingen, where he remained for four years studying physiology, surgery, and chemistry. During this time, he finished his great piece, in its earliest form, “Death’s Jest-Book,” went back to Oxford in 1829 to obtain his M.A. degree, and obtained a degree of doctor of medicine in 1832.

It is said, “He had, however, by the open expression of democratic opinions, made himself obnoxious to the government, and before the diploma was actually conferred upon him he was obliged to fly out of the Bavarian dominions, and to take refuge at Strassburg. In 1833 he visited Zurich, and was so much pleased with it that, when his political intrigues had again made it impossible for him to remain in Germany, he settled down at Zurich in June 1835. He brought with him a considerable reputation as a physiologist, for Blumenbach, in a testimonial which exists, calls him the best pupil he ever had; and he now assumed his degree of M.D. The surgeon Schoelieu proposed him to the university as a professor, and he was elected, although the syndic, for a political reason, refused to ratify the election. Beddoes, however, continued to reside in Zurich for several years, and amassed there a scientific library of 600 volumes” (Phantom Wooer Online).

During this time, he witnessed the assassination of the minister, Hegetschweiber, a close friend of his, and this sparked great political fire in his heart. In August of 1842, he was in England, and went back and forth between England and Zurich before settling in England once more in 1846. According to Phantom Wooer, “his friends found him very much changed, and most eccentric in manner. He complained of neuralgia, and shut himself up for six months in his bedroom, reading and smoking. In June 1847 he finally quitted England, and settled for twelve months at Frankfort in the house of an actor named Degen, practising a little as a physician. Here in the early part of 1848 his blood became poisoned from the virus of a dead body entering a slight wound in his hand. This was overcome, but seriously affected his health and spirits. His republican friends had deserted him, and he felt disgusted with life.”

It is said he fell off a horse and shattered his leg in 1848, was hospitalized, and due to gang-green, his leg was amputated. He seemed in good spirits, and talked freely and happily about literature to his friends, however he mysteriously passed at 10:00pm January 26, 1849. On his bed was found a note stating to give a man named Kelsall, a good acquaintance of his and biographer and anthologist of Beddoes’ works, his manuscripts and works, as well as the following statement: “I ought to have been among other things a good poet.” He was buried in the cemetery of the hospital in Basel, Switzerland.

(All information taken from this webpage.) I suggest you take a look around their website, as it is full of a lot of information about Beddoes not stated here.

You can find Beddoes’ works, specifically his dramatical pieces, here and here; his letters here; and his poetry here and here.

*According to another source, on Wikipedia: “Although older sources give 20 July 1803 as Beddoes’ birthdate, recent ones favor 30 June. Compare Moulton’s Library of Literary Criticism (1966) against The New Moulton’s Library of Literary Criticism (1988) and subsequent sources. Ewulp (talk) 05:20, 28 May 2011 (UTC)” However, Kelsall, Thomas Lovell Beddoes’ very good friend and biographer, stated in his memoir written for Beddoes that he was born July 20th. I believe he was born July 20th.

Happy Bastille Day!

No, not the band. 

[No one better have thought the day was dedicated to the band, or I may have to punch a wall.]

Why I Love Rain | Don’t Wake Me Up Early

There are many reasons to love rain. It’s cooling and refreshing, it soothes the soul, and it ultimately provides tranquility that deeply calms and rejuvenates (yes, I just iterated what I said with other words). Really, it’s a fantastic part of nature that God has provided for us countless times again. I love it.

It is also wonderful when it rains down on outside workers around my apartment complex working at (FREAKING) 9:45 in the morning. Seriously, go find something else to do and come back once I’ve woken up and had my coffee. I do not mean to be a grump, but none of you (save one maybe) have encountered me on little sleep [I went to bed at 3am (okay, it was 4am, but we'll say 3:00 to convince myself I received one more hour of sleep)]. 

That being said, I was able to fall asleep thanks to the rain coming to save the day and usher them away so as to give me three more hours of sleep. And now, with a cup of coffee in hand (should be wine after the morning I’ve had), here I am to complain and explain to you all why I am not a morning person. 

Goodness gracious, this is all over the place. 

Have a good day. 

Ten Things Currently Making Me Happy

1) nevilletetts (one of my favorite bloggers and my dear man).
2) Thomas Lovell Beddoes.
3) Coffee.
4) My internship.
5) Edgar Allan Poe.
6) Korean Dramas (currently watching Boys Over Flowers).
7) Victorian music boxes.
8) The color pink (always).
9) Hershey’s hugs. (I love white chocolate, goodness.)
10) This lovely hurricane weather. (In all seriousness, I love when it rains.)
11) (Bonus) My cat Froofer (who Steve insists I call “Froofus”).

photo (1)

What are the top ten things currently bringing you joy in life? Please link back to me so I can read what you post, as I certainly would love to!

-A.N.

New Beginnings

Sometimes new beginnings are a good thing–a very, very good thing. 

After many years of dealing with drama, be it with friends, family, work, what have you, I finally realized I did not need those things in my life. I did not need to suffer through all of that to grow and learn and succeed in life. 

Giving up these things to start fresh can always be a wonderful thing. I am not advising you completely drop everything and begin anew; oh, no, not unless you are comfortable and stable enough to do so. All I am saying is you don’t need to carry these pieces of baggage on your back forever. You are your own person, only you can make yourself happy, and only you can decide who is worthy of staying in your life and who you should drop. 

I am now twenty-one and am realizing these things. This year alone, I have been releasing old relationships and gaining new ones. I currently am interning at the one place in the world I have ever wanted to truly intern, nay, work at, and I find myself currently talking to a wonderful man who is enriching my life and affecting me for the better. I feel freer than I ever have; freer of depression, of the drama, of so many things. 

People are going to annoy you–get rid of ‘em. People are going to step on your toes–get rid of them. People are going to lie to you, cheat you, abuse you, hurt you, kill your spirit, strike your ego, and try to ruin you. But you know what? You just need to toss them out of your life. Toss all of the worthless trash, your worries, out of your life.

And remember, 
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” 
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Haunting Kelly

Originally posted on Isle of Eau:

Were I today

To die, my love

You’d not be free of me.

 

Lingering here,

Tethered, I will

Haunt you desperately.

 

I’ll be your wraith

And prove your faith

Was not placed errantly.

 

But will you know me,

This shade that hungers

For you still?

 

I will be the creaking of the floorboards that halts outside your chamber door.

The music box that sudden tinkles from the silent darkness.

The clock upon your wall that no longer keeps the hour true.

The curiously misplaced volume of verse that we loved so dear.

The rapping that emanates from everywhere and nowhere.

The vague form that takes shape within the morning mist.

The wind that howls and sobs as you recall to mind my voice.

The glass that shatters jealously to mark your forgetfulness.

The fog of breath collected on the glass as you prepare for bed.

 I

View original 110 more words

Amnesia

Ann Neilson:

Isle of eau.

Originally posted on Isle of Eau:

Sometimes

When comes morning and I first arise,

Dream fragments spilling carelessly from my lifted head

As I break the caul of sleep,

For the briefest of moments I forget about you;

I forget that solitude is no longer my companion;

I forget that you love me as I love you;

That you inhabit my heart, that you are

My souls only, beloved, tenant;

The air again begins to thin, suffocation looms as

Pangs of loveless hunger overtake me;

But before dry sobs erupt from my breast

And I curse the day for my wretched loneliness,

Your gentle spirit washes over me and  my amnesia flees;

And I remember;

You are mine as I am yours, in love,

And though I cannot hold you, kiss you, love you now, as I would like

Once day soon we will be as one, in love, conjoined

Your shy smile, a blessing, will…

View original 12 more words

Ex Libris

Originally posted on Isle of Eau:

I imagine you as an antique book, preserved for untold years.

This volume is far more precious to me than any I have yet possessed.

I would keep it safe, close to me always, and not consign it to a shelf unworthy of this volume.

This book is untouched by any other, and will be read by no one but me.

I turn to this precious volume when in need of inspiration, or solace, or love.

I run my fingers along the marbled page edges.  I caress the raised bands adorning the spine.

I gently ease it open.  That familiar fragrance emerges to greet me.

I tenderly peel back the tissue that protects the gorgeous plates scattered throughout.

I read and am haunted, rapturous, utterly absorbed by what I read.

This book tells a story, old as time and known to many, but I attend its import as my own.

View original 50 more words

Kiss these lips, and I’ll stay forever true – Poetry

Originally posted on Poetic Depression - Melancholy for those who need it...:

What is right? What is justice?

Shall i be wrong when i come to fuck this all up.

I don’t think i will…

I know I won’t

But fear strikes the very core of your soul

And that saddens me, frightens me

I can’t leave you be

I’m alone

So are you

Together we could share ordeals that no one could ever do

Don’t be afraid, for I am with you

Kiss these lips, and I’ll stay forever true

View original

4-10-14

Death is in my coffee,
and it tastes of a bittersweet desire.
The aroma of chaos infiltrates my solemn corner
enveloped by shadows of the morn.
Death has always been kind,
although not always voluntarily there
when needed most,
at hours when temptations arise
and the heart grows weary,
longing to feel poisonous fingers
brushing the hair from my cheek,
wipe the tear from my weak heart.

prettybooks

Fiction, Young Adult and Children's Books & Reviews

Austenprose - A Jane Austen Blog

Join the celebration of Jane Austen novels, movies, sequels and the pop culture she has inspired

Retrospective Regurgitations

Wherein I Embarrass Us All With My Very Old Drivel [August '95 - May '97]

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 78 other followers