Burns and Mozart: a January celebration!

Let's not let January go by without giving a nod to Robert Burns and Wolfgang Mozart. On January 25, 1759 the great Robert Burns was born, and on January 27, 1752, Mozart entered this world. Two creative geniuses: one literary, the other musical.

And, the world of fine arts would never have been the same without them.

Burns, a Scotsman, was a poet and lyricist, regarded as the national poet of Scotland, writing over 500 poems!

Wolfgang, our famous German composer, wrote, in various forms, including symphonies, concerti, sonatas, church music, operas, dances, marches, over 600 works.

Over the years, the celebration of Burns birthday has become a bit of a thing of its own. Known as the Burns Supper, there is the piping in of the guests, the host's welcome speech, the Selkirk Grace prayer, the soup course, haggis course (which receives its own piping in), the main course, toasts and more toasts, an address to the lassies present, a reply to the laddies present, and the hearing of some of Burns' work.  Wow!

Poor Wolfgang only receives our thanks individually, if someone choses to remember. I, for once, choose to make an evening of it with my friends, having German food, and a Sacher torte for dessert, though this year we are combining the two "events" and including a Scotch tasting. I think Wolfgang would have approved of this.

The Name is Bond, Jane Bond?

The name is Bond, Jane Bond??

Last week I saw an article in the internet about "the new James Bond". Being 5:30am, and not quite had my first sips of coffee, I thought the article introduced the new man to play (act) Bond in upcoming films, once Daniel Craig relinquishes the role. The actor named was David Oyelowo, a well-known British actor. He happens to be black. He played Danny in MI5, a BBC favorite show of mine, until he was killed by enemy terrorists. I was sad to see him go.

But I was actually appalled, when I thought he was to "play" Bond on screen. We have become so overly politically correct these days, that I thought the Bond franchise had decided it was high time for a black Bond. No matter how good the actor, or actress, there are some roles that HAVE to be played as they were always intended. Bond must be a white, well-tailored British man, more than slightly misogynist, though charming and irresistible. (Don't get mad now, it's only a story).

If you're Indiana Jones, you must be Harrison Ford. If you're The Thin Man, you must be William Powell. If you are Rhett Butler, you must be Clark Gable. And for that matter, if you are Scarlett O'Hara, you must be Vivian Leigh.

Can you imagine if Indy was an Asian; Captain Kirk was gay; Hannibal Lector was Jeffrey Dawmer (haha ...just kidding).

So I started thinking about political correctness from the 18th Century, and how certain characters in literature just have to be who they are to "get it right". 

The Scarlett Pimpernel is set in 1792, during the early stages of the French Revolution. he is actually Sir Percy, a wealthy English baronet who rescues people sentenced to the guillotine. He's a master of disguise, a fop, great swordsman, escape artist, kind of the Bond of his day. He always leaves behind his card showing a pimpernel flower. Now, you can't have a rugged, Neanderthal, he-man type play the part; he must be rather dignified, precise, elegant. The choice of calling card art says a lot. And so, in the movies, Leslie Howard was the perfect choice.

The successful 1988 film "Dangerous Liaisons" was based on French author Francois Choderlos de Laclos' 1782 novel Les Liasons Dangeureuses, based on a cruel wager plotted by the beautiful but debauched Marquise de Merteuil, played bGlenn Close, and her misogynistic former lover, the Vicomte de Valmont (John Malkovitch). Valmont should seduce a very moral virgin before she can be wed. Of course, typical of stories of this nature, and from this time, there are twists and turns, but Malkovitch played the part to manipulative and dangerous perfection. Imagine if the Vicomte was Tom Hanks. Too good-natured, sweet, noble. That's why Hanks plays the quintessential American hero, and not a villian.

So, this being said, we better stick with Bond as we know him, and forget being politically correct.I mean, even though he was pretty hot back in the day, we wouldn't want Shaft as Bond. He's better off left on the mean streets of Harlem, and not the international haunts of Monaco or The Bahamas. If we're not careful, next thing we know, Bond might have to be Jane!

A Pie is not always a pasty!

I have been watching the new PBS series, Poldark, set in the 18th Century. The leading character, Russ Poldark, is from Cornwall, England.  After fighting in the American Revolutionary War, with General Cornwallis' defeat,  the British soldiers return home, Poldark, among them, only to find his father dead, their lands left unkempt, and their copper mine abandoned. Russ picks up the mantle, and tries to make a go of it. It's a good story, based on a series of novels by British author Winston Greene (1908 – 2003). (He also wrote Marnie in 1961, later turned into the Alfred Hitchcock film).

Cornwall is noted for its tin and copper mines, producing the majority of the UK's production of these metals until very recently. So, mining was the thing in the region, hence the story revolves around the importance to the success or failure of the area residents.

And, now for the best part! The Cornish pasty! During the 17th and 18th centuries the pasty became popular with the workers in Cornwall, the miners adopting it as the food of choice for their daily fare. It had a unique shape, forming a complete meal that could be carried easily and eaten without forks or knives. In the mines,  the pasty's dense, folded pastry would stay warm for several hours, and if it did get cold it could easily be warmed on a shovel over a candle flame!

The side-crimped edge gave rise to the thought that the miner might have eaten the pasty holding the thick edge of pastry, which was later thrown away,  ensuring that his dirty fingers  did not touch food or his mouth. There was fear of intake of arsenic. This may or may not be true, but I don't believe poor folk would throw away any food.

The recipe for the Cornish pasty, includes diced or minced beef, onion, potato and swede (a turnip type vegetable) in rough chunks seasoned lightly with pepper and salt. The cut of beef used is usually skirt steak. Sometimes carrots are included, but generally frowned upon in Cornwall. Baked in shortcut barley flour pastry 'til golden brown, they make a hearty meal.  

There is a belief that the pastry on a good pasty should be strong enough to withstand a drop down a mine shaft! By the way, the pasty recipe and its traditional "D" shape have a protected status. A meat pie may not always be a pasty!

Cause of Death?!

Recently I had the opportunity to read the play Amadeus by Peter Shaffer. It's been awhile since I sat down with this particular book, but I was waiting for a delayed plane, and so I could read, uninterrupted, for awhile.

It's good theatre, and it ends, of course as we know, with Salieri attempting suicide in a last attempt to be remembered, confessing that he murdered the musical genius, his rival, Mozart. The play won the Tony Award for Best Play in 1981.

Though Shaffer demonstrated a good deal of artistic license about Mozart and Salieri's lives as well as the musician's death, one thing is clear. Mozart did die, all of 35 years of age, and we really don't have a clear picture of what happened to him. There are not detailed records, and so it allows for a lot of conjecture.

Mozart had health issues throughout his life. He had smallpox, tonsillitis, bronchitis, pneumonia, typhoid, rheumatic fever and gum disease. Wow! We know, because he wrote extensive letters.

His sister-in-law said he died because of malpractice by his doctor, Dr. Closset. She wrote this in 1825.

In a medical journal, in 1908, the cause was attributed to Vitamin D deficiency. He was also thought to have taken medicines containing antimony to reduce fever. Here's some quackery going on!

In 1994, Neurology Magazine suggests he died of subdural hematoma. A skull believed to be his indicates some fractures from falls that he experienced in his last years, headaches and fainting spells. Bloodletting didn't help the situation.

In 2009, British and Viennese researchers concluded he died of streptococcal infection, leading to kidney failure and its effects.  

Of course, his body was never found (the skull thing is dubious), as he was put in a common grave with other poor folk, so there could never be a proper autopsy. Nevertheless, the his loss is profound. The play is worth the read, even it is mostly fiction. It's quite entertaining. Too bad it's not currently in any theatre. The great Paul Scoffield played Salieri on the London stage. it would have been wonderful to see him in the role. 

The Gift of History

History is a something we generally take for granted, but truly it is a gift. Where would we be if we only knew what was going on right now? With no beauty or inspiration recorded for us to savor, to reflect upon, to use as a guide or even a
warning.

I take the liberty of recording a story from the early 1900's, my Holiday gift to you by O. Henry, entitled "The Gift of the Magi". Here is its summary:

A young married couple with little money independently ponders how to provide each other with a holiday gift.
The husband goes out on the snowy December city streets, looking in windows for inspiration. Finally, he spots the perfect gift: tortoise-shell combs for his wife's long, lustrous hair. But in order to buy them he must sell his watch.

Meanwhile, the wife searches for a way to get money to buy the husband his gift. Finally, she hits upon the ideal scheme: sell her long hair to a wig-maker. Thus shorn, she now happily buys him a present: a fob for his watch.

When he comes home from his shopping outing, the husband is shocked to be greeted by his wife with her hair now short. He holds out her gift -- when she unwraps the combs, she bursts into tears. Then she hand him her gift to him, and he is likewise moved by it.

The couple decides that the moral of their story is that material gifts are not as important as that which is even more precious than the frankincense, myrrh, and gold given to the Christ Child by the Three Kings (Magi) -- that gift is their love for each other.

History gives us a look back into a time before the commercialization of Christmas. Keep this story in mind when Christmas Day arrives. It is LOVE that is the greatest gift!

Merry Christmas to you!

Early Vampire Craze

Generally, we associate Dracula with Bram Stoker's 1897 Gothic novel, but the compelling idea of the undead, the thought of eternal, though damned, life of drinking the lifeblood of the innocent, goes way back. In fact, the first fiction of this type is rooted in the vampire craze of the 1720's and 30's. Interestingly enough, the interest led to the exhuming of two "suspected" vampires, Petar Blagojevich and Arnold Paole, in Serbia, during the Habsburg monarchy. Of course they would be Eastern Europeans!

One of the first works to really have an impact is the short German poem, "The Vampire" by German writer, Heinrich August Ossenfelder, penned in 1748. The poem, is shown here, below:

My dear young maiden clingeth
Unbending. fast and firm
To all the long-held teaching
Of a mother ever true;
As in vampires unmortal
Folk on the Theyse's portal
Heyduck-like do believe.
But my Christine thou dost dally,
And wilt my loving parry
Till I myself avenging
To a vampire's health a-drinking
Him toast in pale tockay.

And as softly thou art sleeping

To thee shall I come creeping

And thy life's blood drain away.

And so shalt thou be trembling

For thus shall I be kissing

And death's threshold thou' it be crossing

With fear, in my cold arms.

And last shall I thee question

Compared to such instruction

What are a mother's charms?

Then there is the poem "Lenore" by Gottfried August Burger (1773), and "The Bride of Corinth" by Goethe (1797). Ahh, those Germans!

For the good of the season, you might want to look these up on-line, or better yet, buy them for your library! There's something about opening up a book, smelling the paper (or parchment, better yet), and letting the spirit of the story or characters out, that you just can't get with a Kindle!

All in!

As a bit of a tribute to D-Day, I purchased Band of Brothers, the 2001 HBO mini-series. I have a thing about WWII, and this series is certainly one of the most exceptional in terms of historical accuracy, the horror, the grit, the ugliness, and yet the beauty of war. Certainly not a beauty easily perceived, but when men band together to accomplish the nearly-impossible, not for themselves but for the good of others, yes, I think there is beauty there. Ok, I'll admit it...I'm a bit of a romantic, and further....there's something about a man in uniform (haha). 

Anyway, the title of the series is taken from the famous St. Cripin's Day speech from Shakespeare's Henry V, Act IV, Scene iii.

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered -

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:

For he today 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 accurs'd they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

 

Well, here's a bit of interesting 18th Century "band of brothers" information:

Rear Admiral Horatio nelson of the British Royal Navy used the phrase at the Battle of the Nile, in 1789. Actually, he applied the term many times, referring to his captains and men under his command. The battle was fought in Aboukir Bay on the Mediterranean coast of Egypt, the climax of the naval campaign against Napoleon at the time. A decisive victory for the British, Nelson wrote afterwards to his commanding officer Lord St. Vincent, referring to Admiral Alexander Ball:

"His activity and zeal are eminently conspicuous even amongst the Band of Brothers - each, as I may have occasion to mention them, must call froth my gratitude and admiration."

In January 1799, to Admiral Earl How, "I had the happiness to command a Band of Brothers."

And again, after the Battle of Trafalgar, 1805, he writes, " Yet, if I know my own thoughts, it is not for myself, or on my own account chiefly, that I feel the sting and the disappointment! And no! it is for my brave officers; for my noble-minded friends and comrades. Such a gallant set of fellows! Such a band of brothers! My heart swells at the thought of them!"

Nelson had the admiration of his men because, though he was their commander, he had great respect for them all. He wanted their input, and in whatever the engagement, he made sure they were a team, they went all in together. He might have been their band leader, but they definitely were an integral part of the band.

 

 

Attention to Details

I am almost finished reading Moby Dick. A long book, but worth the read. I came upon Chapter 110 the other evening, entitled "Decanter". It begins with principal character Ishmael telling the story of the first major English whaling family to sponsor voyages in 1775. Of course he says that Americans were whaling at least 50 years before that. Anyway, the family was Samuel Enderbys and Sons, and he mentions their ship the "Amelia", being the first to round Cape Horn and hunt in the South Seas. Then he mentions another of their ships, the "Syren", commanded by a Nantucketer, first to go into the waters near Japan for the same purpose.  Enderby's company, the Southern Fishery, was registered in London and in Boston.

And here, I stopped, thinking for a moment about the film Master and Commander, when Capt. Aubrey disguises his ship the "Surprise" into a whaler in order to confuse the French frigate headed their way. Ah-ha! I thought. 

The scene depicts the Surprise crew painting out the letters S U R P R I S E on the stern, in favor of the name S Y R E N!

Mr. Patrick O'Brian, author of the M&C series, probably read Moby Dick as well as researched English naval history, including not only military vessels, but whalers! All great story tellers do their research, even to the smallest details.

The Syren sailed on 1819 in August, commanded by Capt. Frederick Coffin, of Nantucket, MA. The ship returned from Japan on April 22, 1822 with a cargo of 346 tons of sperm oil!

By the way, in O'Brian's "Far Side of the World", the voyage of the Amelia is interjected into the story. This is why I have loved reading O'Brian. He maneuvers his characters among real events. It help to flesh out real history in a way that is provocative and exciting, rather than the dry accounts we used to get in history class.  

My Baby wrote Me A Letter!

The other day I read an article about a young woman that was very seriously ill, and rightfully depressed about it almost to the point of suicide, but she felt if she got up each day, and wrote to someone, even a stranger, to encourage THEM, she might in turn find some peace and happiness for herself. She used her Facebook to reach out, and told people if they gave her an address, she would write to them, a handwritten, encouraging letter with a stamp, coming to their mail box! The response was overwhelming! She wrote over 3,000 letters. People shared their problems, hurts, sadness with her. She said the letter she would send would be something they could keep, and pull out of their wallet, or purse, or desk, and know that someone cared.

In today's world, many people are isolated, and even though they communicate with strangers over the internet, something is missing. That bit of humanity that real correspondence can bring. The fact that she needed to find a support system of her own is telling.

The written word is a beautiful thing. There is something magical about opening the mail box and finding an actual letter. It may not be immediate news, but it lets someone know that you sat down, and took the time to write you their thoughts.

The art of letter writing is almost lost.

In the 18th Century, the etiquette of a letter was extremely important. Letters were very different then. For one thing, they were formatted as "cross letters", which actually saved the recipient money! A recipient paid a fee based on the letter's size and the distance it travelled, so in order to conserve space, someone wrote down the page, then turned the paper and wrote again, over the original sentences.

Also, there was no standardized spelling, so often, a "Y" was used in place of an "E", as an example.

Every quill was unique, and took some time to prepare in order to write. And, of course, the quill would only last so long.

Formality and protocol was also very important. For non-military letters, you could end with the following type of greetings:

 

Believe me yours faithfully,
Belive me, dear Sir, Your obliged and faithful humbl. sert.,
Belive me at all times with sincerity and respect, your faithful and obliged servant,
Yours ever,
Affectionately yours,
With best love, &c., I am affectionately yours,
I am yours ever,

But if you were in the military, there were other specific, more formal greetings:

Yours faithfully,
Very respectful,
I have the honour to be, &c.,
Your Obliged, &c.,
I am, &c.,
Your most obedient servant,

  

Then, one would close with rank, and the name of their ship, as the address. Now picture an officer  of the British Royal Navy mailing a letter to a loved one, while he is somewhere at sea, in the Atlantic. He would write his correspondence, sometimes adding to it day after day, until his ship crosses paths with another friendly vessel bound for England. This may involve weeks, or months. Only then will his correspondence have a chance to make it to its destination. Precious, indeed, will this small, folded and waxed-stamped piece of paper be! By the way, envelopes came much later, so letters were folded and sealed, and hopefully no one made attempts to open them.

The Great White

I began reading Moby Dick last week. It was a gift to me, and having finished a number of other stories, I started this classic. I try each year to tackle one of the great classics. I say "tackle" because they are usually large, detailed, ponderous in fact. (think of Dickens works). When you start one, you must be up for the challenge, but when you finish, you know why they endure. They speak to us universally. The characters may be dressed or speak differently today, but everyone knows these people. The ambitious Becky Sharp, the analytical Sherlock Holmes, the honorable Jean Valjean, the obsessive Captain Ahab!

 

Yes, Ahab is obsessed with catching up with the whale who took off his leg, but of course, the story goes much deeper than that. But, in beginning my reading, the story makes mention of how does one classify the Whale...animal or fish? And then a particular paragraph mentions Carl Lenneaus, and his classification system of taxonomy, published 1735. As he uncovered more and more information, later editions were published. Known as the Systema Naturae, it was rather revolutionary for its time.

Linneaus sites the whale as a mammal, in the CETE classification. He states, "Animals that suckle their young by means of lactiferous teats. In external and internal structure they resemble man: most of them are quadrupeds; and with man, their natural enemy, inhabit the surface of the Earth. The largest, though fewest in number, inhabit the ocean."

His Mammalian Characteristics include

• Heart: 2 auricles, 2 ventricles. Warm, dark red blood
• Lungs: respires alternately
• Jaw: incombent, covered. Teeth usually within
• Teats: lactiferous
• Organs of Sense: tongue, nostrils, eyes, ears, & papillae of the skin
• Covering: hair, which is scanty in warm climates, hardly any on aquatics
• Supports: 4 feet, except in aquatics; and in most a tail. Walks on the Earth & Speaks

His Cete Characteristics include

• Fins: pectoral instead of feet
• Tail: horizontal, flattened
• Claws: none
• Hair: none
• Teeth: in some cartilaginous, in some bony
• Nostrils: none, instead of which is a fistulous opening in the anterior and upper part of the head
• Food: mollusca & fish
• Habitation: the ocean

Linneaus goes on to include the different types of cete, including narwhals, dolphins, porpoise, various whales and then the great sperm whale (The Great White), the largest and the object of Captain Ahab's obsession.

This is what I like about a good book. It makes you want to know more, and as they say, the more you know, the less you know.

Hard to say Good-bye!

It is with a nostalgic twinge that I come to the end of a twenty-one book journey, following Captain "Lucky Jack" Aubrey and the crew of the Surprise. Books penned by Patrick O'Brian from 1969 to 2004, these stories of nautical fiction were really something to look forward to. I started, of course, with the first, Master and Commander, after I saw the film of the same name. Actually, the movie was a joining of the first book to one that O'Brian wrote in 1984 (The Far Side of the World). I love that film, especially because it is a real look into how it was on board a vessel of those times. It is not romanticized or subject to Hollywood's all-too-dangerous artistic "license".

The books are the same. Not dumbed down. The vocabulary is filled with full-on naval terminology for how to sail, which sails are used, the protocols of the Royal Navy, etc etc. The dialog between the characters is typical of how they spoke at that time: the formality of address, the courtesy, the hierarchy.

The final book is a partial book, because O'Brian passed away in 2000. "The Final Voyage of Jack Aubrey", or  "21" as it is lovingly known, was not published until 2004 (hence the dates above). An interesting bit about the book is that it is not only published in text, but at the side of each of the three chapter pages, you see O'Brian's hand-written version, before editing, and finalization. He hand-wrote all the books.

The stories, as they always say, are truly better than the movie (in this case, if that's possible). The characters are developed over time, and the friendship of the Captain and the Doctor, which is really at the heart of the stories, is so very real. The Captain, though a true leader and commanding authoritarian while on the high seas, is a bit unsophisticated and emotional on land. Aubrey is totally loyal to his duty and the Crown. The Doctor is a physician which is something very much more than a surgeon, or pill-pusher. He is analytical and a bit mysterious, and plagued by some medicinal demons. And, he is a spy for the British government, and a secret sympathizer of the rebel Irish cause. They are the ying and yang of their times. They are one-another's conscience. I love them, and will miss their adventures.

I will have to start the series over again one day, but meanwhile, they have travelled forth, and now made landfall on my bookshelves.

Merry Christmas to You!

I can hardly believe it, but tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I am looking forward to having a couple days away from the desk, to share the holiday with family and friends, who are my best and greatest gift. But, I leave you with a lovely excerpt from a poem by Sir Walter Scott, written in 1808, that I used for my Christmas card this year. It says a lot. The best part of Christmas is not the gifts, though we all like to have something under the tree with our name on it. The best of Christmas is Christ, and His coming to redeem us all. I send best wishes to you for Peace and Joy and the Love of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had roll'd,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all its hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night.
On Christmas eve the bells were rung,
On Christmas-eve the mass was sung;
That only night in all the year
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donn'd her Kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress'd with holly green;
Then open'd wide the baron's hall,
To vassal -- tenant -- serf and all:
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doff'd his pride.
All hail'd with uncontroll'd delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

London: The Great City

 

I just finished a course on the History of London, one of the DVD lecture series from The Great Courses. This lecture was 24 half-hour installments, and I am sad to see it come to an end. I learned so much, so many great stories that just help confirm my love of that fair city. The series contained a wealth of information that spanned from practically pre-historic times to the new millennium. The professor, Robert O. Bucholz, an American, attended Oxford University. He currently teaches History at Loyola University Chicago, specializing on Great Britian, Western Civilization and London, of course. He has written many books, of which now I want to look into.

But, in his last lecture, in closing, he ended the series with a poem about London, written in 1738 by John Banks, called A Description of London ... It caught my imagination. London is filled with contradictions, fascinating changes over its years. It is truly resilient, and has made it self over many times. It is formal and proper, and yet there is an undercurrent of the seedy or strange. After all, it was the home of Jack The Ripper! Reduced to ashes upon more than one occasion, it rises again like the perennial Phoenix. Banks' words paint a picture of a spirited place of movement, gaiety and pleasure, foreboding and danger.

Houses, churches, mixed together,
Streets unpleasant in all weather;
Prisons, places contiguous,
Gates, a bridge, the Thames irriguous.

Gaudy things enough to tempt ye,
Showy outsides, insides empty;
Bubbles, trades, mechanic arts,
Coaches, wheelbarrows and carts.

Warrant, bailiffs, bills unpaid,
Lords of laundresses afraid;
Rogues that nightly rob and shoot men,
Hangmen, aldermen and footmen.

Lawyers, poets, priests, physicians,
Noble, simple, all conditions:
Worth beneath a threadbare cover,
Villainy bedaubed all over.

Women black, red, fair and grey,
Prudes and such as never pray,
Handsome, ugly, noisy, still,
Some that will not, some that will.

Many a beau without a shilling,
Many a widow not unwilling;
Many a bargain, if you strike it:
This is London! How d'ye like it?

Well, I like it very much! Even though it is a huge, sprawling city, it is still walkable, and history is everywhere. Fun to explore on foot, or by tube!

The Gothic Novel

It's October, and thoughts turn to goblins and ghouls and gothic horror! I look forward every year to busting out all my favorite creep-show movies, including Dracula, Frankenstein, House of Wax, Sleepy Hollow, to name a few. It's part of the fun to be scared to death!
Also, I sent away for a "horrible" book to read this month: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies! It's really a kick! It revolves around Jane Austen's original novel, but with Zombies thrown in to terrorize Derbyshire, Netherfield Park, Merryton, basically all the locations in which the story takes place!

In the spirit of the season, I decided to look into Gothic fiction, which is the genre of literature that includes elements of horror and romance. Its origin comes with the first of its kind, "The Castle of Otranto", by English author Horace Walpole, written in 1764. This was groundbreaking stuff at the time, to be followed by authors like Mary Shelley and her Frankenstein, works by Edgar Allen Poe, etc, up to the beginning of the 19th Century, and the rest is history, as they say.

The name "gothic" refers to the medieval buildings in which the stories generally take place, the ruins of a dark earlier age, representing the collapse and decay of humanity.
Walpole set the parameters for the gothic tale. There are always the following characters interjected: the virginal maiden, the old foolish woman, the hero, the tyrant, the stupid servant, clowns, ruffians, clergy. These characters reinforce the story: the innocent deflowered, the knight in shining armor, the comic relief, the moral judge, etc. It's all there, with suspense, bone-chilling terror and forbidden love among the ruins thrown in for good measure.

By the way, The Castle of Otranto tells the story of a lord and his family, beginning on his son's wedding day, with a tragic event happening just after all the celebration. The tragedy is the fulfillment of an prophecy. It goes on from there with murders, trysts, sorrow, suspense, pain and suffering. Doesn't it make you want to crack the cover!?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sir Walter Scott - Happy Birthday!

Today marks the birthday of Sir Walter Scott, famed novelist, playwright, poet from Scotland, Born in Edinburgh, on August 15, 1771, he wrote countless works, among them the famed Ivanhoe, Rob Roy, The Lady of the lake, Waverly, The Bride of Lammermoor, from which we get the glorious tragic opera Lucia de Lammermoor by Donizetti  in 1835.

He was a prominent Tory and an active member of the Highland Society and Royal Society of Edinburgh.

He attended the university, then apprenticed with his father in a business that drew up formal and legal  documents, The Signet. He was a collector of the written word, and later began his career as a writer. He was afflicted early in his life with polio, and walked with a pronounced limp, though he was a physically strong man nevertheless.

He began writing poetry, and achieved some fame, but later began writing prose. His first novel was Waverly, which recounted some of the political struggle and rebellion of the Jacobite rising in 1745. He wrote it anonymously because of political implications, owning up to it inn 1816, when the Prince Regent asked to meet the author of Waverly. The royal knew Scott was the author!

As Scott’s fame grew, the Prince Regent gave him permission to search for the long-lost crown jewels of Scotland, which were unearthed from the depths of Edinburgh Castle by Scott and a team of military men. The grateful Prince granted Scott the title of Baronet, hence Sir attached to his name! Princes Street in Edinburgh has a monument dedicated to the writer in a lovely square.

 

Modern Marvels

Currently, I am reading Jules Verne's "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea". It's a marvelous story, and judging by the technological standards of the day, (written in 1870), it is a visionary marvel. I wouldn't have necessarily chosen it for myself, but it was a gift, a beautiful volume of all Verne's best tales, and I am glad I cracked open the cover. The cover of my book is shown at left.

Last night, I read a particular bit, a comment made by the story's principle character, Pierre Arronax after his first under-sea walk in his pressurized suit provided to him by Captain Nemo, the commander of the Nautilus. Arronax states that the suit was quite wonderful, and such an improvement upon the cumbersome apparatus of the 18th Century. When I read this, I had to look into it. I did not know much about the history of diving suits, or underwater exploration of this nature.

And so, I found that actually, diving suits or a way of remaining under water for longer periods of time, goes way back. Even the ancients found crude ways of keeping themselves breathing underwater for extended periods, generally keeping a metal or wood bucket over their heads, trapping air, and walking the sea floor. Of course this is in shallow surroundings, not deep sea.

But, in 1715, two Englishmen developed the first "official" diving suit. John Lethbridge's suit was completely enclosed, basically a barrel of air, with a glass port, and two enclosed sleeves. Andrew Becker's was similar, but included a system of tubes for inhaling and exhaling! The diving bell had entered the scene.

At that time, a Frenchman, Pierre Remy de Beauve, designed his "garde de la marine" suit, one of the oldest known diving dresses, equipped with a metal helmet and two hoses, one for air supplied from the surface by a bellows action.

By the late 1790's a German, Karl Heinrich Klingert, fashioned a suit which also included a large metal belt connected by leather jacket and pants.

Interestingly enough, the first practical submarine was tested in 1800! A drawing of it is shown at right. These technologies were truly something incredible for the times. In the modern era, except for something as revolutionary as the internet or the harnessing of nuclear energy, most new inventions, systems, technologies are merely refinements on past investigations. The marine suit, for example, once perfected for sea-going pressure, could be used for space exploration! What will be the next great thing? Who knows. But, it would have to be something quite spectacular, which is not easily found. Most "incredible" things are based on a previous incarnation.

 

 

Where Christmas Can Be Found!

Ever since the Holy Star pointed to the location of the Christ Child's manger, the tradition of celebrating Christmas and bearing gifts to those we love has filled the Winter season. Throughout December, Christmas is celebrated with the joy and excess of the groaning side-board, the enormous, glittering Christmas tree, singing of carols, outdoor lighting that has reached outrageous proportions. It is fun, and exciting, and racous, and delightful none-the-less.

But Christmas can also be found in quiet places of reflection. The further back you go in history, Christmas looked very different, definitely a religious feast day, and with very little gifting save something needed, or prized, like oranges! It was a real treat to receive a beautiful piece of the golden citrus, from some far-away exotic land!

And where were these exotic lands? If it were not for exploration and sailors finding Land, Ho! we would still think we could fall off the horizon line.

Sailors were at sea for months or even years at a time, making landfall to pick up supplies, or make repairs, and then they were on their way again. Once such sailor, that sailed for over 43 years, was British-born George Hodge. He worked shipboard from 1790 to 1833. He was self-educated and began a journal to document his journeys. He stepped aboard at age 13, and worked below decks. He not only wrote about the life, but drew as well. His diary was discovered not too long ago in the United States.

One of his entries regards Christmas: On Christmas Day in 1806 he writes: "Employ'd in wartering ship and seting up the riger ... fish for dinner." 
That's the long and short of it! But he did make note of the date.

I often remember the passage from Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" that describes the people at sea in a storm:

"Again the Ghost (of Christmas Present) sped on, above the black and heaving sea -- on, on -- until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him."

This year a great deal of the Christmas Season for me has been spent at the bedside of my Dad who is in a rehab/nursing facility suffering the ravaging effects of later-stage Pakinson's disease. It is heart-breaking to see a man so full of life reduced to the shell of the person I have known and counted on all my life.

But, still, Christmas is to be found even here. I have received many presents already, though they are different than expected. I have the gift of seeing the strength of my family, pulling together to be helpful at this time. I have the gift of friends who have called me to offer help, or prayers, or to relay a funny or happy story. They sustain me. The staff at the facility are compassionate and kind which is a gift. People always hear nightmare stories of nursing homes. It is not always true. I have the gift of being able to assist my Dad, even if only to wheel him down the hall of the facility to see the Christmas tree, or help him enjoy a couple spoonfuls of his favorite smoothie. I have the ears to hear his whispered voice, when he asks for something. I have the gift of him reaching for my hand, and telling me I am his pal.

We must remember that the Christ Child was born, not in the lap of luxury, but in a crude and cold barn. But, His Light brings warmth to all the world, a Light that fills even the darkest space. And here, then, is where Christmas is found.

Merry Christmas to all! God bless you, one and all!

The Written Word

I read all the time! Mostly history, or if it is a worthwhile one, a historic novel. Nothing is worse than reading a trashy romance novel. I would expect you would feel cheated of your time as you turn the last page.

But, fine literature, the first-rate novel, as we know it today, is a product of the 18th Century! Of course, there were stories before, but the genre that constitutes the modern NOVEL was developed in the 1700's.
Some of the literary geniuses who wrote these enduring works include Daniel Dafoe who wrote "Robinson Crusoe" in 1719; Samuel Richardson who penned "Pamela - Virtue Rewarded" in 1740; Henry Fielding, "The Story of Tom Jones" - 1749.

The NOVEL is a book of long narrative in literary prose. The genre goes back to medieval times. Novels are categorized into the following types, though within these general categories, there are sub-categories:

1) The EPISTOLARY, or a story written as a diary, letters, journal entries. The hero tells the story recalling events documented. Think of "Letters of a Portugese Nun".
2) The SENTIMENTAL, generally a love story. Think of "Pride and Prejudice".
3) The HISTORY, or historic novel, where the hero is interjected into the plot of actual, historic events. Think of "Mutiny on The Bounty".
4) The GOTHIC, the tale of horror, suspense, ghosts, paranormal. "Think "Frankenstein".
5) The LIBERTINE, an anti-establishment plot, includes eroticism. Think "Dangerous Liasions"
6) the BILDUNGSROMAN, or "coming of age" story, where the reader follows a young person through a life span, or at least a period in his life. Think "Jane Eyre".

Personally, my favorite Bildungsroman is the story of Harry Potter! I love how, book by book, Harry not only grows/ages physically, but becomes the hero we all love. He is noble, brave, selfless, and he triumphs!

But back to the NOVEL in the 18th Century. Of course, morality always plays a part. If you do bad, you are paid in kind. Sometimes immediately, sometimes later on, but there is always a price to pay for bad behavior. The tragic hero can suffer personal loss, or the loss of something or someone meaningful to him. Of course, this is character-building, which is one of the purposes of these books during that time. Today, the hero gets away with alot more, and if the plot is interesting, the adventure compelling, the leading character does not always have to be moral or upstanding. Too bad, because if there is nothing to learn (except how to get what you want), these stories do not endure. Classic literature always has something deep, and compelling to say about human nature, and the human condition.

Anyway, I am about to start book #18 of the Master and Commander series. There are 21 books in all, and Patrick O'Brian is a "master" when telling the tale of the British Naval Officer and his Naturalist Companion during the Napoleonic Wars, and their adventures at sea, in battles, and on land, discovering wonders of the natural world. It is fine literature, indeed! (I gather it is a bildungsroman, with Capt. Aubrey beginning as a master and commander, and by now, attaining the rank of admiral! I look forward to seeing what new adventures Capt. Aubrey and Dr. Maturin will encounter. I have them lovingly placed on my library shelves, and always look forward to the purchase of the next installment.

These stories are not easily read. O'Brian does not dumb-down the naval terms, but with each book, you learn how to "navigate" as it were, and the relationship between the characters is priceless. Give them a whirl!  You won't be disappointed!

Welcome to my Nightmare!

Gothic Fiction, or as it is sometimes known as Gothic Horror, is a form of literature combining elements of horror and romance. Its origins are attributed to English author Horace Walpole, and his 1794 novel "The Castle of Otranto", subtitled "A Gothic Story". Gothic fiction fed on a captivating sort of horror, as an extension of the Romantic works of the time.

Gothic literature is associated with Gothic Revival architecture, the ruins of Gothic buildings and the emotion represented by the inevitable decay and collapse of humanity. It embodies the joy of extreme emotions, the thrill of the fearful. English Gothic writers often associated these medieval buildings with what they felt was a dark and forboding period, with its harsh laws enforced by torture and superstitious rituals. There was always psychological and physical mystery, with ghosts and haunted houses. For the good of the season, I always try to read a Gothic story, the best being the old ones, including the classic Dracula and Frankenstein. Though those films are a guilty pleasure, they are a far cry from the original plots, their character development, and of course, the moral side of the question: tampering with nature. There is always a price to pay!
This year I am reading "The Woman in Black" by Susan Hill. Though written in 1986, it harkens back to the early 1800's in England, with all the suspense and horror one could wish for when reading alone, on a windswept Autumn evening! As an added incentive to read this particular work, Daniel Radcliffe of Harry Potter fame, will play the part of the lead character in the film version, coming out next February 2012. I always try to read the book before the movie.

For a great trailer of the coming film, see http://www.thewomaninblack.com/