dangermousie: (Legend: maple by alexandral)
There is a movie that just premiered at Cannes about John Keats and Fanny Brawne!



Called Bright Star and getting rave reviews apparently.

OMG.

OMG.

I need to lie down now.

See my fascination with this topic ages ago.

Here is one of his letters to her:

My dearest Girl,

I wrote a Letter for you yesterday expecting to have seen your mother. I shall be selfish enough to send it though I know it may give you a little pain, because I wish you to see how unhappy I am for love of you, and endeavour as much as I can to entice you to give up your whole heart to me whose whole existence hangs upon you. You could not step or move an eyelid but it would shoot to my heart - I am greedy of you - Do not think of any thing but me. Do not live as if I was not existing - Do not forget me - But have I any right to say you forget me? Perhaps you think of me all day. Have I any right to wish you to be unhappy for me? You would forgive me for wishing it, if you knew the extreme passion I have that you should love me - and for you to love me as I do you, you must think of no one but me, much less write that sentence. Yesterday and this morning I have been haunted with .a sweet vision - I have seen you the whole time in your shepherdess dress. How my senses have ached at it! How my heart has been devoted to it! How my eyes have been full of Tears at it! I[n]deed I think a real Love is enough to occupy the widest heart - Your going to town alone, when I heard of it was a shock to me - yet I expected it - promise me you will not for some time, till I get better. Promise me this and fill the paper full of the most endearing mames [for names]. If you cannot do so with good will, do my Love tell me - say what you think - confess if your heart is too much fasten'd on the world. Perhaps then I may see you at a greater distance, I may not be able to appropriate you so closely to myself. Were you to loose a favorite bird from the cage, how would your eyes ache after it as long as it was in sight; when out of sight you would recover a little. Perphaps if you would, if so it is, confess to me how many things are necessary to you besides me, I might be happier, by being less tantaliz'd. Well may you exclaim, how selfish, how cruel, not to let me enjoy my youth! to wish me to be unhappy! You must be so if you love me - upon my Soul I can be contented with nothing else. If you could really what is call'd enjoy yourself at a Party - if you can smile in peoples faces, and wish them to admire you now, you never have nor ever will love me - I see life in nothing but the cerrtainty of your Love - convince me of it my sweetest. If I am not somehow convinc'd I shall die of agony. If we love we must not live as other men and women do - I cannot brook the wolfsbane of fashion and foppery and tattle. You must be mine to die upon the rack if I want you. I do not pretend to say I have more feeling than my fellows - but I wish you seriously to look over my letters kind and unkind and consider whether the Person who wrote them can be able to endure much longer the agonies and uncertainties which you are so peculiarly made to create - My recovery of bodily hea[l]th will be of no benefit to me if you are not all mine when I am well. For god's sake save me - or tell me my passion is of too awful a nature for you. Again God bless you

J.K.

No-my sweet Fanny-I am wrong. I do not want you to be unhappy - and yet I do, I must while there is so sweet a Beauty - my loveliest my darling! Good bye! I kiss you - O the torments!



dangermousie: (Legend: maple by alexandral)
There is a movie that just premiered at Cannes about John Keats and Fanny Brawne!



Called Bright Star and getting rave reviews apparently.

OMG.

OMG.

I need to lie down now.

See my fascination with this topic ages ago.

Here is one of his letters to her:

My dearest Girl,

I wrote a Letter for you yesterday expecting to have seen your mother. I shall be selfish enough to send it though I know it may give you a little pain, because I wish you to see how unhappy I am for love of you, and endeavour as much as I can to entice you to give up your whole heart to me whose whole existence hangs upon you. You could not step or move an eyelid but it would shoot to my heart - I am greedy of you - Do not think of any thing but me. Do not live as if I was not existing - Do not forget me - But have I any right to say you forget me? Perhaps you think of me all day. Have I any right to wish you to be unhappy for me? You would forgive me for wishing it, if you knew the extreme passion I have that you should love me - and for you to love me as I do you, you must think of no one but me, much less write that sentence. Yesterday and this morning I have been haunted with .a sweet vision - I have seen you the whole time in your shepherdess dress. How my senses have ached at it! How my heart has been devoted to it! How my eyes have been full of Tears at it! I[n]deed I think a real Love is enough to occupy the widest heart - Your going to town alone, when I heard of it was a shock to me - yet I expected it - promise me you will not for some time, till I get better. Promise me this and fill the paper full of the most endearing mames [for names]. If you cannot do so with good will, do my Love tell me - say what you think - confess if your heart is too much fasten'd on the world. Perhaps then I may see you at a greater distance, I may not be able to appropriate you so closely to myself. Were you to loose a favorite bird from the cage, how would your eyes ache after it as long as it was in sight; when out of sight you would recover a little. Perphaps if you would, if so it is, confess to me how many things are necessary to you besides me, I might be happier, by being less tantaliz'd. Well may you exclaim, how selfish, how cruel, not to let me enjoy my youth! to wish me to be unhappy! You must be so if you love me - upon my Soul I can be contented with nothing else. If you could really what is call'd enjoy yourself at a Party - if you can smile in peoples faces, and wish them to admire you now, you never have nor ever will love me - I see life in nothing but the cerrtainty of your Love - convince me of it my sweetest. If I am not somehow convinc'd I shall die of agony. If we love we must not live as other men and women do - I cannot brook the wolfsbane of fashion and foppery and tattle. You must be mine to die upon the rack if I want you. I do not pretend to say I have more feeling than my fellows - but I wish you seriously to look over my letters kind and unkind and consider whether the Person who wrote them can be able to endure much longer the agonies and uncertainties which you are so peculiarly made to create - My recovery of bodily hea[l]th will be of no benefit to me if you are not all mine when I am well. For god's sake save me - or tell me my passion is of too awful a nature for you. Again God bless you

J.K.

No-my sweet Fanny-I am wrong. I do not want you to be unhappy - and yet I do, I must while there is so sweet a Beauty - my loveliest my darling! Good bye! I kiss you - O the torments!



dangermousie: (Legend: maple by alexandral)
There is a movie that just premiered at Cannes about John Keats and Fanny Brawne!



Called Bright Star and getting rave reviews apparently.

OMG.

OMG.

I need to lie down now.

See my fascination with this topic ages ago.

Here is one of his letters to her:

My dearest Girl,

I wrote a Letter for you yesterday expecting to have seen your mother. I shall be selfish enough to send it though I know it may give you a little pain, because I wish you to see how unhappy I am for love of you, and endeavour as much as I can to entice you to give up your whole heart to me whose whole existence hangs upon you. You could not step or move an eyelid but it would shoot to my heart - I am greedy of you - Do not think of any thing but me. Do not live as if I was not existing - Do not forget me - But have I any right to say you forget me? Perhaps you think of me all day. Have I any right to wish you to be unhappy for me? You would forgive me for wishing it, if you knew the extreme passion I have that you should love me - and for you to love me as I do you, you must think of no one but me, much less write that sentence. Yesterday and this morning I have been haunted with .a sweet vision - I have seen you the whole time in your shepherdess dress. How my senses have ached at it! How my heart has been devoted to it! How my eyes have been full of Tears at it! I[n]deed I think a real Love is enough to occupy the widest heart - Your going to town alone, when I heard of it was a shock to me - yet I expected it - promise me you will not for some time, till I get better. Promise me this and fill the paper full of the most endearing mames [for names]. If you cannot do so with good will, do my Love tell me - say what you think - confess if your heart is too much fasten'd on the world. Perhaps then I may see you at a greater distance, I may not be able to appropriate you so closely to myself. Were you to loose a favorite bird from the cage, how would your eyes ache after it as long as it was in sight; when out of sight you would recover a little. Perphaps if you would, if so it is, confess to me how many things are necessary to you besides me, I might be happier, by being less tantaliz'd. Well may you exclaim, how selfish, how cruel, not to let me enjoy my youth! to wish me to be unhappy! You must be so if you love me - upon my Soul I can be contented with nothing else. If you could really what is call'd enjoy yourself at a Party - if you can smile in peoples faces, and wish them to admire you now, you never have nor ever will love me - I see life in nothing but the cerrtainty of your Love - convince me of it my sweetest. If I am not somehow convinc'd I shall die of agony. If we love we must not live as other men and women do - I cannot brook the wolfsbane of fashion and foppery and tattle. You must be mine to die upon the rack if I want you. I do not pretend to say I have more feeling than my fellows - but I wish you seriously to look over my letters kind and unkind and consider whether the Person who wrote them can be able to endure much longer the agonies and uncertainties which you are so peculiarly made to create - My recovery of bodily hea[l]th will be of no benefit to me if you are not all mine when I am well. For god's sake save me - or tell me my passion is of too awful a nature for you. Again God bless you

J.K.

No-my sweet Fanny-I am wrong. I do not want you to be unhappy - and yet I do, I must while there is so sweet a Beauty - my loveliest my darling! Good bye! I kiss you - O the torments!



dangermousie: (BW: Lagaan Gauri by chalkare)
Because I mentioned Camille Desmoulins in a previous post, in the context of Carlyle siting a letter of his to his wife, I've actually found the translated text on-line. It makes for a fascinating reading, mix of very personal and very political, romantic and (since I hesitate to call a man who is going to be exectuted whiny because...good cause for complaint) self-pitying.

Also, interestingly enough, people apparently OTP them: http://www.angelfire.com/ca6/frenchrevolution89/desmoulins.html

Well, they certainly had plenty of drama: Apparently Camille collapsed when he heard that Lucile, who stood outside the prison everyday so that he could see her, was to be arrested on trumped-up charges of leading a prison revolt. "They're going to kill my wife!" (they did, btw). And on the scaffold he gave a lock of Lucile's hair, which he had kept in a locket around his neck to the executioner asking him to give it to Lucile's mother. No wonder the Victorians ate it all up with a spoon. This is so totally Bollywood!

goodbye life, my soul, my share of divinity on earth )

OMG, there is actually a movie about them, a French TV drama with a rather unwieldy title of: Les Amours sous la révolution: La passion de Camille et Lucile Desmoulins. Maybe I could get my hands on it and then [livejournal.com profile] aliterati could bring her Saint-Just one (that I just found out was the one I saw when I was a kid and ended up drooling over Saint-Just, heeee), and we could make a night of really obscure movies about secondary French revolutionary figures. Heeeee.
dangermousie: (BW: Lagaan Gauri by chalkare)
Because I mentioned Camille Desmoulins in a previous post, in the context of Carlyle siting a letter of his to his wife, I've actually found the translated text on-line. It makes for a fascinating reading, mix of very personal and very political, romantic and (since I hesitate to call a man who is going to be exectuted whiny because...good cause for complaint) self-pitying.

Also, interestingly enough, people apparently OTP them: http://www.angelfire.com/ca6/frenchrevolution89/desmoulins.html

Well, they certainly had plenty of drama: Apparently Camille collapsed when he heard that Lucile, who stood outside the prison everyday so that he could see her, was to be arrested on trumped-up charges of leading a prison revolt. "They're going to kill my wife!" (they did, btw). And on the scaffold he gave a lock of Lucile's hair, which he had kept in a locket around his neck to the executioner asking him to give it to Lucile's mother. No wonder the Victorians ate it all up with a spoon. This is so totally Bollywood!

goodbye life, my soul, my share of divinity on earth )

OMG, there is actually a movie about them, a French TV drama with a rather unwieldy title of: Les Amours sous la révolution: La passion de Camille et Lucile Desmoulins. Maybe I could get my hands on it and then [livejournal.com profile] aliterati could bring her Saint-Just one (that I just found out was the one I saw when I was a kid and ended up drooling over Saint-Just, heeee), and we could make a night of really obscure movies about secondary French revolutionary figures. Heeeee.
dangermousie: (BW: Lagaan Gauri by chalkare)
Because I mentioned Camille Desmoulins in a previous post, in the context of Carlyle siting a letter of his to his wife, I've actually found the translated text on-line. It makes for a fascinating reading, mix of very personal and very political, romantic and (since I hesitate to call a man who is going to be exectuted whiny because...good cause for complaint) self-pitying.

Also, interestingly enough, people apparently OTP them: http://www.angelfire.com/ca6/frenchrevolution89/desmoulins.html

Well, they certainly had plenty of drama: Apparently Camille collapsed when he heard that Lucile, who stood outside the prison everyday so that he could see her, was to be arrested on trumped-up charges of leading a prison revolt. "They're going to kill my wife!" (they did, btw). And on the scaffold he gave a lock of Lucile's hair, which he had kept in a locket around his neck to the executioner asking him to give it to Lucile's mother. No wonder the Victorians ate it all up with a spoon. This is so totally Bollywood!

goodbye life, my soul, my share of divinity on earth )

OMG, there is actually a movie about them, a French TV drama with a rather unwieldy title of: Les Amours sous la révolution: La passion de Camille et Lucile Desmoulins. Maybe I could get my hands on it and then [livejournal.com profile] aliterati could bring her Saint-Just one (that I just found out was the one I saw when I was a kid and ended up drooling over Saint-Just, heeee), and we could make a night of really obscure movies about secondary French revolutionary figures. Heeeee.
dangermousie: (Max & Liz colors (by lipstick_peril))
I am in book heaven, suffering from an embarassment of riches. Just finished the book [livejournal.com profile] sabaceanbabe recced, and am still reading Pauline Gedge's "Child of the Morning" (novel about Hatshepsut) and Keats' letters. Plus, I finally bought a complete edition of O. Henry and have been "dipping." Of course, I also feel like rereading "Rebecca."

But the best part is that today I got two books I ordered from abebooks: "Dark Star," which is a biography of John Gilbert, one of my favorite silent actors, and "Song of Love: the Letters of Rupert Brooke and Noel Olivier." Cheesy title or not, I came across this collection of letters between the WWI poet and Noel (who despite her name was a woman, and apparently became a doctor, quite a feat in those days) in undergrad and loved it. Especially RB's letters: they are rather like his poems: moody, and obsessive, and very beautiful.

Sample letter:

Clickitie here to read poets in love )
dangermousie: (Max & Liz colors (by lipstick_peril))
I am in book heaven, suffering from an embarassment of riches. Just finished the book [livejournal.com profile] sabaceanbabe recced, and am still reading Pauline Gedge's "Child of the Morning" (novel about Hatshepsut) and Keats' letters. Plus, I finally bought a complete edition of O. Henry and have been "dipping." Of course, I also feel like rereading "Rebecca."

But the best part is that today I got two books I ordered from abebooks: "Dark Star," which is a biography of John Gilbert, one of my favorite silent actors, and "Song of Love: the Letters of Rupert Brooke and Noel Olivier." Cheesy title or not, I came across this collection of letters between the WWI poet and Noel (who despite her name was a woman, and apparently became a doctor, quite a feat in those days) in undergrad and loved it. Especially RB's letters: they are rather like his poems: moody, and obsessive, and very beautiful.

Sample letter:

Clickitie here to read poets in love )
dangermousie: (Max & Liz colors (by lipstick_peril))
I am in book heaven, suffering from an embarassment of riches. Just finished the book [livejournal.com profile] sabaceanbabe recced, and am still reading Pauline Gedge's "Child of the Morning" (novel about Hatshepsut) and Keats' letters. Plus, I finally bought a complete edition of O. Henry and have been "dipping." Of course, I also feel like rereading "Rebecca."

But the best part is that today I got two books I ordered from abebooks: "Dark Star," which is a biography of John Gilbert, one of my favorite silent actors, and "Song of Love: the Letters of Rupert Brooke and Noel Olivier." Cheesy title or not, I came across this collection of letters between the WWI poet and Noel (who despite her name was a woman, and apparently became a doctor, quite a feat in those days) in undergrad and loved it. Especially RB's letters: they are rather like his poems: moody, and obsessive, and very beautiful.

Sample letter:

Clickitie here to read poets in love )
dangermousie: (Default)
I've just bought a book containing selected letters of John Keats, who was one of my favorite poets (and who died of TB at 25, which is a hideous waste). It's always an odd experience reading someone else's private letters. It makes you feel intrusive and yet can give you better access to understanding personality than 20 biographies. Basically, I am not stopping any time soon!

Anyway, here are three of the letters he wrote to his fiancee Fanny Brawne. If they don't make you swoon, I don't know what's wrong with you!

Keats met Fanny in November of 1818 and fell "instantly" in love with her, to the dismay of both her family and his contemporaries. The couple became secretly engaged soon after. However, in the winter of 1820 Keats became very ill. He was diagnosed with tuberculosis. His health progressively declined and in a final effort to save his own life, he moved to Italy where died in 1821, at the age of 25. Buried with him, close to his heart, was an unopened letter from Fanny.

Gorgeous letters here )

If you want to read more on Keats and Fanny Brawne, this webpage is excellent.
dangermousie: (Default)
I've just bought a book containing selected letters of John Keats, who was one of my favorite poets (and who died of TB at 25, which is a hideous waste). It's always an odd experience reading someone else's private letters. It makes you feel intrusive and yet can give you better access to understanding personality than 20 biographies. Basically, I am not stopping any time soon!

Anyway, here are three of the letters he wrote to his fiancee Fanny Brawne. If they don't make you swoon, I don't know what's wrong with you!

Keats met Fanny in November of 1818 and fell "instantly" in love with her, to the dismay of both her family and his contemporaries. The couple became secretly engaged soon after. However, in the winter of 1820 Keats became very ill. He was diagnosed with tuberculosis. His health progressively declined and in a final effort to save his own life, he moved to Italy where died in 1821, at the age of 25. Buried with him, close to his heart, was an unopened letter from Fanny.

Gorgeous letters here )

If you want to read more on Keats and Fanny Brawne, this webpage is excellent.
dangermousie: (Default)
I've just bought a book containing selected letters of John Keats, who was one of my favorite poets (and who died of TB at 25, which is a hideous waste). It's always an odd experience reading someone else's private letters. It makes you feel intrusive and yet can give you better access to understanding personality than 20 biographies. Basically, I am not stopping any time soon!

Anyway, here are three of the letters he wrote to his fiancee Fanny Brawne. If they don't make you swoon, I don't know what's wrong with you!

Keats met Fanny in November of 1818 and fell "instantly" in love with her, to the dismay of both her family and his contemporaries. The couple became secretly engaged soon after. However, in the winter of 1820 Keats became very ill. He was diagnosed with tuberculosis. His health progressively declined and in a final effort to save his own life, he moved to Italy where died in 1821, at the age of 25. Buried with him, close to his heart, was an unopened letter from Fanny.

Gorgeous letters here )

If you want to read more on Keats and Fanny Brawne, this webpage is excellent.

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