dual personalities

Tag: Shakespeare

Out and about

by chuckofish

July is turning out to be a busier month than anticipated. We went to an actual 4th of July party last week and to a birthday party for an old friend.

Are people finally getting back in the swing of things post-COVID? I hope so. The OM is always reluctant to go anywhere, preferring to stay home, but then he has fun, even with a bunch of oldsters. I am the same way. (I keep forgetting that I am an old lady.) But it is good to get out and about.

The boy brought the wee twins over to frolic in the afternoon yesterday. The driveway had just been sealed, so we had to frolic inside, but that was fun too.

The twins were very excited that I gave them that old globe. They know an impressive array of countries and states (and state capitols).

I heard all about their trip. It sounded wonderful–they even had to get out of the water once when there was a shark sighting!

I had lunch with some old flyover institute friends and we talked treason…and

So we’ll live,
 And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
 At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news, and we’ll talk with them too—
 Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out—
 And take upon ’s the mystery of things,
 As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out,
 In a walled prison, packs and sects of great ones
That ebb and flow by th’ moon.

That’s as good a plan as any. Hang in there with me. Keep reading Shakespeare.

This and that

by chuckofish

We have been enjoying the January Thaw here in flyover country. And I must say, it is nice not to have to bundle up every time the pup needs to walk around the yard looking for gross things to dig up and munch. (I hate to think what he has ingested, but I can’t be held responsible. He heeds not his Mamu’s sharp words.) This warm weather will, of course, not last. The daffodils and iris and lilies etc seem to think otherwise.

In other news, I put up this bird feeder which was a Christmas gift from a BFF…

I can’t wait to see which birds find it!

Last week I mentioned that someone had suggested I read the entire Shakespeare canon since I had completed reading the Bible. Since I own an (incomplete) set of Shakespeare that belonged to my grandmother, I may dive in. Mira, it seems, was given a new play for birthdays and Christmas when she was a teenager.

I mean, why the heck not? (But who was Aunt Fannie?)

I just found out that our Women’s Bible Study group will be studying the book of Daniel this spring and I am happy we will be back in the Old Testament. I am glad I spent so much time last year reading Leviticus–twice! Here’s a great explanation of why that is so. “Our own age of diversity echoes the fickle relativity of the ancient gods.”

However, just like ancient Israel, believers now don’t have to live at the mercy of the fickle gods. We have God’s Law and his gospel, wondrously clear and accessible. It proved to be a solid rock in the churning sea of ancient polytheism. It is just as stable of a rock in the contemporary sea of progressive culture and globalization.

And Tim Challies really nails delineating what he wants in a church here: “The cure that these church leaders propose is actually indistinguishable from the disease. The cure they propose for this illness is to administer more of the illness! They are treating cancer with cancer, infection with infection, radiation poisoning with even greater doses of radiation.” Amen, brother.

Raise your hand if you think Stetson Bennett IV , the Georgia QB, is awesome. Okay, I am a sucker for a good (Christian) sports story. “Bennett III was asked how his son was able to reach his ultimate goal of playing at Georgia. ‘Everyone that asks that question,’ he said. ‘I tell ’em two things: One, how good the Lord is. And two, just the fact that he never gave up. I’ve told him his entire life that he can do anything in the world that he wants to do, but he can’t just want it, you got to go to work. That’s what he did.’”

But, what ho, Two Gentlemen of Verona calls…”Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers…” Have a good day!

“A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off”*

by chuckofish

In response to my statement that I had read the entire Bible in 2022, a college friend commented on her Christmas card to me: “Katie! You read the Bible! What’s next? All of Shakespeare?”

Well, that’s an idea.

No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
Let’s choose executors and talk of wills:
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke’s,
And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?

–Richard II, Act 3, Scene 2

*Silvia in The Two Gentlemen of Verona

The painting is “The Plays of William Shakespeare” by Sir John Gilbert, 1849

Friday movie pick: He which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart

by chuckofish

The battle of Agincourt took place on Friday, October 25, 1415 (Saint Crispin’s Day) in northern France. You can read all about it here. And here’s the rousing speech by (Shakespeare’s) Henry V. (Every day is a good day to read this out loud; you will feel smarter having done so.)

Laurence Olivier--the best Henry V

Laurence Olivier–the best Henry V

What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Today is also the anniversary of the Charge of the Light Brigade, a charge of British light cavalry led by Lord Cardigan against Russian forces during the Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean War in 1854.

Here is the famous poem written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson to commemorate the event. I think my older brother had to memorize this poem in fifth grade and that was my first introduction to it. My kindergarten self thought it was pretty dramatic.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Half a league, half a league,
  Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death,
  Rode the six hundred.
‘Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns’ he said:
Into the valley of Death
  Rode the six hundred.

‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldiers knew
  Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
  Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
  Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
  Rode the six hundred.

Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
  All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke
Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
  Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
  Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
  All the world wonder’d.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
  Noble six hundred!

Where is this post going? you ask. Well now, I don’t know about you, but all this patriotic English hoo-haw puts me in the mood for some Errol Flynn! However, the film version of The Charge of the Light Brigade (1936) is notable mostly for the fact that Errol Flynn does not “get the girl” (Olivia de Haviland).

photo-La-Charge-de-la-brigade-legere-The-Charge-of-the-Light-Brigade-1936-5

No, his brother, played by the handsome Patric Knowles, does. This is hardly satisfactory.

I am more in the mood for something like Rocky Mountain (1950), which dishes up some large helpings of Confederate hoo-haw.

rocky-mountain-movie-poster-1950-1020308754

My movie pick for this week tells the story of a Confederate troop, led by Captain Lafe Barstow (Flynn), prowling the far ranges of California and Nevada in “a last desperate attempt” to build up an army in the West for the faltering Confederacy. The troop fails in its mission but the honor of the Old South is upheld as they too make a charge into “the valley of Death”. Although it features an aging Errol Flynn, it is not as bad as it sounds, due mostly to a pretty good screenplay by Alan Le May who wrote The Unforgiven and The Searchers. Also, Flynn does not phone in his performance as usual during this phase of his career, probably because he was trying to impress his co-star, the 24-year old Patrice Wymore, whom he married when filming ended.

Flynn was always impressive on horseback.

Flynn was always impressive on horseback.

Anyway, I like this movie and its old-fashioned gallantry. There is even an obsessively loyal dog. And the tune “Dixie” is prominently featured in the tear-inducing score. I am hoping that it will be a good respite from baseball stress. Our Cardinals who have…fought so well…we hope will come…

…thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell…

Well, you get the idea. In other news: Eminem’s daughter Hailee was named homecoming queen at her high school. I don’t know about you, but this makes me very happy.

This other Eden

by chuckofish

RIchard II, King of England

RIchard II, King of England

Richard II (6 January 1367 – ca. 14 February 1400) was King of England from 1377 until he was deposed in 1399. Richard, a son of Edward, the Black Prince, was born during the reign of his grandfather, Edward III. Richard was the younger brother of Edward of Angoulême; upon the death of this elder brother, Richard—at four years of age—became second in line to the throne after his father. Upon the death of Richard’s father prior to the death of Edward III, Richard, by agnatic succession, became the first in line for the throne. With Edward III’s death the following year, Richard succeeded to the throne at the age of ten. (Read more about him here.)

If you are wondering why you are reading about Richard II, it is because today is the anniversary of his coronation in 1377. Huzzah! The history major in me likes to remind you of these important facts which I fear you may have forgotten. (I had.) And I am always happy to dig out a good Shakespeare quote, especially this one, which conjures up images, not of Sir John Gielgud and Derek Jacobi, but of Leslie Howard as the Scarlet Pimpernel!

“This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty,
this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,–
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.”

― William Shakespeare, Richard II, Act 2, Scene 1

You remember Leslie Howard at the end of the movie, reciting these lines to Raymond Massey, don’t you?

scarletP

You felt that he meant every word and he did. No one loved England more than he. He proved it a few years later by dying for his country during WWII. (I blogged about that previously here.)

Well, this post is further proof that I can bring just about any reference around to a movie. Who, sir? Me, sir? Yes, sir. You, sir.