Welcome to the Hamlet Blog, a list of all things Hamlet to inspire and inform our cast, crew, and audience.
Showing posts with label Symbolism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Symbolism. Show all posts

Saturday, July 20, 2013

The bird of dawning singeth all night long

Some fun with birds.

From Folk-lore of Shakespeare (http://www.sacred-texts.com/sks/flos/flos08.htm)

Cock.—The beautiful notion which represents the cock as crowing all night long on Christmas Eve, and by its vigilance dispelling every kind of malignant spirit and evil influence, is graphically mentioned in "Hamlet" (i. 1), where Marcellus, speaking of the ghost, says—
"It faded on the crowing of the cock.
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes,
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
 The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
 And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
 The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
 So hallow’d and so gracious is the time."
In short, there is a complete prostration of the powers of darkness; and thus, for the time being, mankind is said to be released from the influence of all those evil forces which otherwise exert such sway. The notion that spirits fly at cock-crow is very ancient, and is mentioned by the Christian poet Prudentius, (See my blog post "Hymn at Cock-crow" for this poem) who flourished in the beginning of the fourth century. There is also a hymn, said to have been composed by St Ambrose, and formerly used in the Salisbury Service, which so much resembles the following speech of Horatio (i. 1), that one might almost suppose Shakespeare had seen it. (You can read it here)

(A note from me: Cock-crowing, also called the Third Watch, was 12am-3am)


Heron.—This bird was frequently flown at by falconers. Shakespeare, in "Hamlet" (ii. 2), makes Hamlet say,
"I am but mad north-north-west; when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw;" handsaw being a corruption of "heronshaw," or "hernsew," which is still used, in the provincial dialects, for a heron. In Suffolk and Norfolk it is pronounced "harnsa," from which to "handsaw," is but a single step. Shakespeare here alludes to a proverbial saying, "He knows not a hawk from a handsaw." Mr J. C. Heath explains the passage thus: "The expression obviously refers to the sport of hawking. Most birds, especially one of heavy flight like the heron, when roused by the falconer or his dog, would fly down or with the wind, in order to escape. When the wind is from the north, the heron flies towards the south, and the spectator may be dazzled by the sun, and be unable to distinguish the hawk from the heron. On the other hand, when the wind is southerly, the heron flies towards the north, and it and the pursuing hawk are clearly seen by the sportsman, who then has his back to the sun, and without difficulty knows the hawk from the hernsew."

From a great page called Shakespeare's Ornithology (http://www.acobas.net/teaching/shakespeare/masters/)
Lapwing "Like a Lapwing that runs away with the shell on its head" refers to the behaviour of the young of some ground-nesting species, they are able to leave the nest almost as soon as having hatched in case of an incoming danger:
This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.:


Sparrow: From Matthew 10:29-31: "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." 

Pigeons and Kites:
 But I am pigeon-livered and lack gall

To make oppression bitter, or ere this

I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave’s offal. (2.2)
"Although s large bird, and called by some the Royal Kite, it has not the bold dash of many of our smaller hawks in seizing live and strong prey, but glides about ignobly, looking for a sickly or wounded victim, or for offal of any sort." (From Harting's book "The birds of Shakespeare", 1871)
Pigeons do, in fact, lack a gall-bladder, as do most birds.

Woodcocks: 
"Woodcocks, for some unaccountable reason, were supposed to have no brains, and the name of this bird became a synonym for a fool." (Harting)  The trap ("springe") is very similar to a mousetrap. 

Falconry was at its height of popularity in Elizabethan England, and Shakespeare displays mastery of the subject throughout his plays. Pigeons were used as game that hawks would fly at--"the quarry." (See, "This quarry cries on havoc," Hamlet, 5.2) The quarry differed depending on what type of hawk you were using, although French falconers "do not appear to have been so particular: We'll e'en to it like French falconers, fly at anything we see." (Harting, 56) "To check" is a falconry term meaning "to fly at" but also means changing the bird in pursuit. (See 5.2. Claudius: "If he be now returned/ As checking at his voyage...")


Several of the articles and books I read at the library talked about birds in Charleston. Mockingbirds were mentioned as a continuous sound. You can listen to them here: 

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/northern_mockingbird/sounds

Also, because of the lack of proper sanitation in Charleston in the early 1900s, buzzards were a frequent sighting. In true Charlestonian style, the buzzards were re-named "Charleston Eagles."
From a 1901 New York Times article titled "Charleston's Buzzards":
"No wonder they are so haughty and without regard for the rights and feelings of others, for they have a trust founded upon the richest scavenger business in one of the oldest cities in the land, and theirs was perhaps the first trust in America. Trust magnates among men are always supposed to be defiant, and why should not they be likewise among buzzards?"


Friday, June 28, 2013

More on Ophelia's rhymes

A fantastic article by Robert Tracy from 1963 on The Owl and the Baker's Daughter:

http://www.houseofideas.com/mscornelius/resources/hamlet/hamlet_vol_35__imagery_277101-.pdf

"By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon,"


Ophelia refers to pilgrims of "The Way of St. James" who wore a hat with a scallop shell:

Pilgrims walk the Camino for various reasons. Some to seek penance, others enlightenment, and still others for a sense of adventure, yet all progress toward the Cathedral in Santiago where it is believed the remains of the apostle St. James are held. Most pilgrims choose to carry a scallop shell with them to symbolize their journey in honor of St. James. According to legend, scallop shells are said the have covered St. James’ body after it was found on the shores of the Galician coast. Another, perhaps more useful symbol is a walking stick to aid a weary pilgrim on his or her journey.
A film was made about the route starring Martin Sheen. More info here; http://theway-themovie.com/camino.php
Compare to a poem by Sir Walter Raleigh (date unknown: poem is attributed to him.)

As you came from the holy land
         Of Walsingham,
Met you not with my true love
         By the way as you came?

   “How shall I know your true love,
         That have met many one,
I went to the holy land,
         That have come, that have gone?”

   She is neither white, nor brown,
         But as the heavens fair;
There is none hath a form so divine
         In the earth, or the air.

“Such a one did I meet, good sir,
         Such an angelic face,
Who like a queen, like a nymph, did appear
         By her gait, by her grace.”

She hath left me here all alone,
         All alone, as unknown,
Who sometimes did me lead with herself,
         And me loved as her own.

“What’s the cause that she leaves you alone,
         And a new way doth take,
Who loved you once as her own,
         And her joy did you make?”

I have lov’d her all my youth;
         But now old, as you see,
Love likes not the falling fruit
         From the withered tree.

Know that Love is a careless child,
         And forgets promise past;
He is blind, he is deaf when he list,
         And in faith never fast.

His desire is a dureless content,
         And a trustless joy:
He is won with a world of despair,
         And is lost with a toy.

Of womenkind such indeed is the love,
         Or the word love abus’d,
Under which many childish desires
         And conceits are excus’d.

But true love is a durable fire,
         In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never old, never dead,
         From itself never turning.



Old Jepthah

Painting of Jepthah, John Everett Millais, 1867

Jepthah asked God to bring him victory over his enemies, the Ammonites. In return, he vowed that "whoever comes forth from the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious from the Ammonites, shall be the LORD's, and I will offer him up as a burnt offering. (Judges 11:30-31) When he returns home victorious, his only child, a virgin daughter, runs out of the house to meet him. 

"And when he saw her, he rent his clothes, and said, 'Alas, my daughter! you have brought me very low and you have become the cause of great trouble for me, for I have opened my mouth to the LORD, and I cannot take back my vow."(11:35)
His daughter tells him that he must do whatever he has promised to God, but first she asks, " 'Let me alone two months, that I may go and wander on the mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my companions.'
  


The Lament of Jepthah's Daughter, George Elgar Hicks, 1871
"And at the end of two months, she returned to her father, who did with her according to his vow which he had made. She had never known a man. And it became a custom in Israel that the daughters of Israel went year by year to lament the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite four days in the year." (11: 37-40)

Friday, May 10, 2013

Shakespeare the Secret Catholic?

To be (Catholic) or not to be (Catholic)....

http://publicvigil.blogspot.com/2010/10/hidden-catholic-meaning-of-hamlet.html

It gets silly in the middle, but makes a good point about Claudius/Henry and Gertrude/Catherine parallels.

Here are some selections from a more scholarly article, called "Hamlet and the Reformation: The Prince of Denmark as 'Young Man Luther'" by Edward T. Oakes: (emphasis is mine)

"The central problem of the play, as was recognized almost upon its first appearance on stage, centers on why Hamlet hesitates in following out his father’s ghostly demand to avenge his death, quite in violation of the conventions of all other revenge tragedies. Interpretations explaining this indecision have ranged all over the map, but  only recently have critics come to recognize that Hamlet’s hesitation is first and primarily a theological hesitation. Strangely, this insight has been late in coming, even though Shakespeare peppered his play with hints and indications that he meant Hamlet to be a commentary on the Reformation; not least of course is his making the prince study in Wittenberg, of all places, when he hears of his father’s death and his mother’s hasty marriage. That geographical hint, however, was largely ignored until late in the twentieth century." (p.57-58)

"Recent criticism has come to reject these personality-driven approaches, whether Romantic or Freudian, and instead chooses to look at the historical setting of the play in order to see Hamlet’s conflict as essentially theological. To be sure, Eliot had already signaled a dissatisfaction with all Romantic interpretations of the play, but even he failed to notice what Paul Cantor sees as the most obvious setting for the tragedy: “It is remarkable how many of the complications of Hamlet’s situation can be traced to the impact of his belief in an afterlife has on his thinking. " (p.59)

"But why is Hamlet so uncertain? Cantor’s interpretation consistently places the play in the context of the Renaissance, that unique blend of classical Greek and Roman cultural norms within the setting of the Catholic religion. But, with rare exceptions, Renaissance artists displayed no hesitation about the truth of the Catholic account of the afterlife, as Dante’s Divine Comedy and Michelangelo’s frescos in the Sistine Chapel irrefutably show. Nothing in Shakespeare’s play gives any indication that Hamlet is a skeptic in the Hobbesian or Humean mode but rather is a Christian of a peculiar type: one torn between two rival versions of Christian eschatology, Catholic and Lutheran."(p.61)


This uncertainty is not only the center of the play, the very motor that explains all of Hamlet’s tormented ambivalence, it was also the reason that religious strife in Elizabethan England remained so chronic and unresolved, even to our present times. Hamlet is a play of contagious, almost universal self-estrangement,” says Greenblatt, a theme Shakespeare signals in the opening scene of the play: “Say what, is Horatio there?” asks Bernardo on the castle walls at midnight, to which Horatio responds, “A piece of him” (1.1.21–22). This was Europe in 1600: in pieces, with all hopes of union and unity forever gone, lost in the interminable and irresolvable debates over purgatory, merit, indulgences, finding favor with God, Church authority versus the authority of the Bible."

“Protestants sometimes wrote as if the whole doctrine of Purgatory were a stage set, a will-o’the-wisp, a filthy spiderweb they could simply sweep away,” Greenblatt writes. But within a few years, the Puritans among them tried to abolish the stage as well, just as they had already dispatched the doctrine of purgatory as a poet’s fable. Terminology of the stage often referred to the ceiling or canopy as “heaven” and the understage as “hell.” The stage was earth; but as we saw with Prospero’s epilogue, also a kind of purgatory. “Does this mean that Shakespeare was participating in a secularization process, one in which the theater offers a disenchanted version of what the cult of Purgatory once offered?” Greenblatt asks. “Perhaps. But the palpable effect is something like the reverse: Hamlet immeasurably intensifies a sense of the weirdness of the theater, its proximity to certain experiences that had been organized and exploited by religious institutions and rituals.36 Here perhaps can be located the ultimate import of Shakespeare’s view of the Reformation: the uncertainties it introduced over purgatory are but a reflection of a more general dread of something after death" (p.72-73)