A new mystery play?

This article, describing a Christmas nativity play performed by an entire English village (Calne, in Wiltshire), caught my eye because the cultural and communal aspects (the whole town involved) and, arguably, the religious one ('bringing the Bible to life') are similar to that of the medieval mystery plays. Since my PhD thesis will focus largely on the York mystery plays in modern performance, looking at the cultural and social need which has looked to revive the play cycle in (and for) the present day, it makes an interesting point for comparison and contrast.

As a footnote, some scholars suggest that the British tradition of the Christmas nativity play is directly descended from the mystery play cycles, the only trace of the original medieval drama to survive in modern-day British culture. The people of York, where the mystery plays are still very much alive and kicking, might take issue with that last point!

Thoughts for Advent, Old English-style

Lovely piece here from the blog A Clerk of Oxford, on an Old English Advent sermon:

A Clerk of Oxford | The Coming of Christ, the Golden Blossom

Origins of the English Language

Interesting piece here on, well, what it says in the title - the early history of the English language.

https://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.co.nz/2016/11/the-early-history-of-english.html

(Canadian readers note that, apparently, Canadian French is similar to medieval French! And you never told me ;) )

Wall paintings in Stratford's Guild Chapel

Recently I came across this article, which describes (and pictures) the wall paintings in the Guild chapel of Stratford-upon-Avon. Like most medieval churches, the chapel's walls were originally covered with murals depicting life, death, heaven, hell, and everything in between. At the Reformation the murals were destroyed, or, as was the case at Stratford, painted over. Recent restoration work in the Guild chapel has uncovered the wall paintings, which, depending on whom you read, are either "some of the finest in Europe" (Daily Mail) or "far from masterpieces, but... show[ing]... medieval England in thrall to devils and death" (The Guardian).

(The Daily Mail gets further carried away, proclaiming that the murals were personally painted over by John Shakespeare, father of the famous William - on the grounds that he was bailiff of Stratford in 1563, when Henry VIII ordered the paintings removed. William Shakespeare was born the following year, 1564, so sadly he never saw the paintings.)

The Daily Mail article has the best images, but here are a few more pages commenting on the wall paintings:

The Shakespeare Blog | Medieval Decorations in Stratford's Guild Chapel

Tudorstuff | Guild Chapel Stratford

Guardian | Shakespeare's Stratford and a morbid, fascinating England

The Soundscapes of the York Mystery Plays

This project (led by the University of York and part of the Being Human Festival of the Humanities) seeks to recreate the soundscapes of the medieval mystery plays. It also incorporates audio material from modern productions of the plays. For more information see:

https://marianajlopez.wordpress.com/the-soundscapes-of-the-york-mystery-plays/

http://www.york.ac.uk/tftv/news-events/events/2016/soundscapes-york-mystery-plays-4/

http://beinghumanfestival.org/event/the-soundscapes-of-the-york-mystery-plays/

Annual ballet concert

Not remotely medieval, but it's my blog :D

My students are dancing Friday/Saturday - come and cheer us on!

* NB Saturday 10th is also the Coca-Cola Christmas in the Park at the Auckland Domain, so parking will be manic. Ye be warned. *

Remembering Leonard Cohen

Show me the place 

Where you want your slave to go

 

Show me the place

I've forgotten I don't know

Show me the place 

Where your head is bending low

Show me the place

Where you want your slave to go.

Show me the place

Help me roll away the stone

Show me the place

I can't move this thing alone

Show me the place 

Where the Word became a man

Show me the place

Where the suffering began.

The troubles came

I saved what I could save

A thread of light

A particle a wave

But there were chains 

So I hastened to behave

There were chains 

So I loved you like a slave

Show me the place

Where you want your slave to go

Show me the place

I've forgotten I don't know 

Show me the place

For my head is bending low

Show me the place 

Where you want your slave to go

The troubles came

I saved what I could save

A thread of light

A particle a wave

But there were chains 

So I hastened to behave

There were chains 

So I loved you like a slave

Show me the place

Help me roll away the stone 

Show me the place

I can't move this thing alone

Show me the place 

Where the Word became a man

Show me the place

Where the suffering began.

Leonard Cohen, "Show me the place," in Old Ideas, 2012.

 

The Stage | Pop-up Globe

Article on the Pop-up Globe from the UK's The Stage:

https://www.thestage.co.uk/features/2016/shakespeares-other-home-in-the-southern-hemisphere/

Armistice Day

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you with failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

John McCrae, "In Flanders Fields" in In Flanders Fields and Other Poems of the First World War, edited by Brian Busby (London: Arcturus Publishing, 2005), 128.

Al-hal-day (All Hallow's Day)

Today, 1st November, is traditionally All Hallow's Day, now more commonly known as All Saints' Day. Like many landmarks of the medieval year, it is mentioned in the Sir Gawain and the Green Knight poem (so many feastdays are mentioned in the poem that it functions almost as a calendar or guide to the medieval year).

Earlier I posted about Michaelmas Day, which heralds the onset of winter and reminds Gawain that he must leave the safety of Arthur's court and set out on his quest for the Green Knight (see my post here). However, Gawain procrastinates (well, who wouldn't, in his situation!) and does not leave Camelot until early November. On All Saints' Day Arthur provides in Gawain's honour a large and hearty feast, and, after much prolonged leave-taking, the knight leaves the next morning:

Yet quyl Al-hal-day with Arther he lenges,

And he made a fare on that fest, for the frekes sake,

With much revel and ryche of the Rounde Table.

Knyghts ful cortays and comlich ladies,

Al for luf of that lede in longynge thay were;

Bot never-the-lece ne the later thay nevened bot merthe,

Mony joyles for that jentyle japes ther maden.

For aftter mete with mournyng he meles to his eme,

And spekes of his passage, and pertly he sayde:

'Now, lege lorde of my lyf, leve I you ask.

Ye knowe the cost of this cace, kepe I ni more

To telle yow tenes therof, never bot trifel;

Bot I am boun to the bur barely to-morne,

To sech the gome of the grene, as God wyl me wisse.

Thenne the best of the burgh bowed togeder,

Aywan and Errik and other ful mony,

Sir Doddinaval de Savage, the duk of Clarence,

Launcelot and Lyonel and Lucan the gode,

Sir Boos and Sir Bydver, big men bothe,

And mony other menskful, with Mador de la Port.

Alle this compayny of court com the kyng nerre,

For to counseyl the knyght, with care at her hert.

There was much derne doel driven in the sale,

That so worthé as Wawan schulde wende on that ernde,

To dryye a delful dynt, and dele no more

              wyth bronde.

The knyght mad ay god chere,

And sayde: 'Quat schuld I wonde?'

 Of destinés derf and dere

What may mon do bot fonde?'

And to finish off - I know Halloween this year has been and gone, but this post (from the UK, a day behind NZ) landed in my email inbox this morning and I couldn't resist sharing it. It's an old post from the Medieval Manuscripts Blog, "Dress Up for Halloween, Medieval Style," a darkly humorous list of costume ideas based on the weird and wonderful creatures found in the margins of medieval manuscripts. And it does have some relevance to my post today, as it features woodwoses - the mythical tree-men also mentioned in SGGK.

Manuscript of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, from the British Library via

All Hallow's Eve and the Lyke-Wake Dirge

(empty) Roman sarcophagi in the Multiangular Tower, York

To mark Halloween - or, in its older form, All Hallow's Eve - I found for your delight this cheery little medieval poem. Written in the dialect of north Yorkshire, it is a funeral dirge, thought to have been sung or chanted while keeping watch (wake) at the side of a corpse (lyke; this old word for corpse survives today in lychgate, the covered gateway into church grounds, where the bier would await the arrival of the priest conducting the funeral). The poem displays the typical medieval preoccupation both with Purgartory and with the Corporal Works of Mercy - well, three of them at least: to clothe the naked ("If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon"), to feed the hungry, and to give drink to the thirsty ("If ever thou gav'st meat or drink"). This leads into the pious hope that a life well lived will result in "Christ receiv[ing] thy saule."

This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.

When thou from hence away art past,
Every nighte and alle,
To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.

If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,
Every nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on;
And Christe receive thy saule.

If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane
Every nighte and alle,
The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.

From Whinny-muir whence thou may'st pass,
Every nighte and alle,
To Brig o' Dread whence thou may'st pass,
And Christe receive thy saule.

From Brig o' Dread whence thou may'st pass,
Every nighte and alle,
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule. 

If ever thou gav'st meat or drink,
Every nighte and alle,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
And Christe receive thy saule.

If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,
Every nighte and alle,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.

This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.

I do think middle English literature is much more fun read in the original, so I am not going to translate the poem. In any case, the language of this version isn't hard, especially when you simply drop the final e from many words. A few tricky words I have glossed below:

fleet ~ some say this should be sleet, as in frozen rain. Others say it should be slate, as in the roofing material. However, fleet appears to be an old word for home, or house. I prefer this, as it alliterates with fire. 

saule ~ soul

hosen ~ clothes

shoon ~ shoes

whinnnes, Whinny-muir ~ whin = thorn and muir = moor

bane ~ bone

Brig ~ not a sailing ship; a bridge

The song has been set to music by Benjamin Britten. The band Pentangle (medieval buffs will know that the name comes from the five-pointed star emblazoned on Gawain's shield in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight) also released their own version, which you can listen to here:

Telegraph | Authenticity and the Globe

Interesting opinion piece from the Telegraph's Dominic Cavendish about the London Globe theatre:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/10/26/

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their entrances and their exits; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.

This day is called the feast of Crispian

Today, 25th October, is the feast day of St Crispin, forever beloved by Shakespeare fans because it provides them with an excellent excuse to chant the famous eve-of-battle speech in Shakespeare's Henry V.

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.

However, St Crispin's day this year was by many Aucklanders eagerly awaited for a different reason, albeit one connected with Shakespeare...

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say, 'Tomorrow is St Crispian.'

The Pop-Up Globe is returning this summer (glory hallelujah!) and the season dates and performances were released today, St Crispin's Day.

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

The season runs from 23rd February to the 14th May; the plays are Othello, As You Like It, Much Ado About Nothing, and (appropriately, given the day of the announcement) Henry V. Full details here:

 http://www.popupglobe.co.nz/

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks

That fought with us upon St Crispin's Day.

I cannot decide whether 25th October was deliberately chosen for the season launch, or whether it was (very) happy coincidence. (I suspect the latter as there is no mention of St Crispin anywhere in the website, or on Facebook). Oh well... it doesn't matter.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

 The main thing is - the Pop-Up Globe is coming back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shylock with Guy Masterton

The Once and Future Humanities (public lecture)

Professor John McGowan, of the University of North Carolina, is presenting this year's Hood Lecture in English, titled The Once and Future Humanities, this Wednesday 12th October, 6:30pm in the Engineering building (room 401).

Further information here: http://www.arts.auckland.ac.nz/en/about/events/2016/10/the-once-and-future-humanities.html

UoA Graduation Media Release

See the University of Auckland homepage (scroll down), or https://www.auckland.ac.nz/en/about/news-events-and-notices/news/news-2016/10/liggins-institute-daughters-graduate.html

Michaelmas

Today, 29th September, is the feast of St Michael, or, as it was known in the Middle Ages, Michaelmas (the name is a shortening of St Michael's Mass). This day was an important one in the medieval calendar, as it was one of the four quarter days - the others being Lady Day (the feast of the Annunciation, 25th March in the modern calendar), Midsummer Day (24th June) and Christmas - on which accounts, rent and wages had to paid. Servants' terms of employment were also counted from one quarter day to the next, and on big manors or estates, Michaelmas was usually the day on which the reeve (who might be very loosely described as the chief peasant) was appointed.

The four quarter days roughly correspond with the four seasons, and in England Michaelmas was (and is) regarded as the start of autumn. The michaelmas daisy, which flowers in late September, takes its name from St Michael's feast day: 

Michaelmas Daisy. Image in public domain, via

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight specifically mentions Michaelmas. Its approach heralds the onset winter, reminding Gawain that he must leave the safety of the court at Camelot and set out on his search for the mysterious Green Knight, whom he must find by the new year:

Bot then hyyes hervest, and hardenes hym sone,

Warnes hym for the wynter to wax ful rype;

He dryves with droghyt the dust for to ryse,

Fro the face of the folde to flyye ful hyghe;

Wrothe wynde of the welkyn wrastles with the sunne,

The leves laucen fro the lynde and lyghten on the grounde,

And al grayes the grese that grene was ere;

Then al rypes and rotes that ros upon fyrst.

And thus yirnes the yere in yisterdayes mony,

And wynter wyndes ayayn, as the worlde askes,

           no fage,

Til Meghelmas mone

Was cumen with wynter wage.

Then thenkkles Gawain ful sone

Of his anious vyage.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight l.521-35, in ed. A.C.. Cawley Pearl, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (London: Everyman, 1970)

Medieval (14th century) depiction of St Micheal defeating the dragon (Satan), via. Note that St Michael's shield actually bears the cross of St George!

New Zealand seasons being topsy-turvy to the English ones, we are currently enjoying a very passable imitation of spring as described by the Gawain poet, which you can read here.

Officially M.A.

A few photos from graduation yesterday, courtesy of Daddy, Harry, Sebastian and the University of Auckland...

On the march

Where's Wally?

On the terrace of Old Government House

photo by University of Auckland

Hogarth Shakespeare & Nutshell

Today I came across the Hogarth Shakespeare Initiative, which, in its own words, "sees Shakespeare’s works retold by acclaimed and bestselling novelists of today." Some of the plays have already been 'done' - Howard Jacoboson's Shylock is My Name (The Merchant of Venice) and Jeanette Winterson's The Gap of Time (The Winter's Tale.) Margaret Atwood's Hag-Seed (The Tempest) is due out next month.

A good idea? Not sure... but certainly an interesting one. You can read more about it, and see scheduled books in the series, here: http://crownpublishing.com/hogarth-shakespeare/.

Not part of this initiative, but in a similar vein, is Ian McEwan's Nutshell. This is a modern-day retelling of Hamlet, with rather a neat and original twist: the story is told by Hamlet while still inside his mother's womb, privy to the murderous plotting of his mother and uncle. This highly unusual point of view, combined with the fact that I have a weakness for all things Hamlet, was what made me buy the book.

Gertrude becomes Trudy and Claudius Claude, but apart from this the book is less faithful to the plot of the play than to its language and occasional rambling bouts of philosophy. Hunting these down was, for me, half the pleasure of this book, but it is well-told and well-written (though sometimes almost unnecessarily graphically) in its own right. Some reviewers have described the book as a 'thriller,' which seems to me something of an overstatement, but it is genuinely suspenseful.

A great deal of the play's language is neatly worked into the fabric of the novel. This is sometimes bold (the re-working of the "What a piece of work is a man" speech), more often subtle (Hamlet's descriptions of his mother, father and uncle), occasionally defiant (the last line of the book is "The rest is chaos"). The book's title, of course, comes from Hamlet's "I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams."

Happy birthday Bilbo Baggins

Today, as every true Tolkien fan will know, is Bilbo Baggins' birthday (also Frodo's, but his name spoils my fancy and very Middle English-esque alliteration. Sorry, Frodo.)

What better opportunity to quote Tolkien. Here is part of his description of the preparations for Bilbo's one hundred and eleventh (eleventy-first) birthday party:

Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking waggon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. It was driven by outlandish folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End. At the end of the second week in September a cart came in through Bywater from the direction of the Brandywine Bridge in broad daylight. An old man was driving it all alone. He wore a tall pointed hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through Hobbiton and right up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly guessed. At Bilbo's front door the old man began to unload: there were great bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red G and [an] elf rune.

J.R.R Tolkein, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (London: Harper Collins, 1992), 36-37.

Tolkein's prose is pretty mellifluous, but his poetry simply sings. Here is one extract, comparatively simple, but one of my favourites:

O slender as a willow wand! O clearer than clear water!

O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter!

O spring time and summer time, and spring again after!

O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!

Ibid., 139.

And of course one could not close a Tolkien post without the last two lines from the Namárië song...

Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

via

German Film Festival

The New Zealand Goethe-Institut is running a festival of German film in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch, Dunedin and New Plymouth. Auckland dates are 10th - 16th October. Programme here.

All in a day's work...

Yesterday I wrote a letter to Dame Judi Dench:

You may (or may not) know that Dame Judi took part in the earliest modern revivals of the York mystery plays throughout the 1950s. She was an angel in the 1951 Festival of Britain revival and played the Virgin Mary (one of her first professional roles) in 1957.

So on the off-chance that she might reply, I wrote asking what it was like to be part of those early performances, how the play cycle fitted into a post-war society, and how it was viewed by the people of York at the time.

York Minster Mystery Plays June 2016

'Have you come far?' 

- York Minster Mystery Plays volunteer to me

This post is rather late, given that we saw the plays on the 22nd June and it is now the beginning of September... still, better late than never! The reason for the delay is that I have been writing up a review of the plays as an academic paper, and my little brain does not like working on two things at once. Academia comes before blogging, so there you are. However, now that I have finished my paper, which is currently languishing in a long-suffering editor's inbox awaiting review, it is time to turn my attention to my rather neglected blog.

The Minster production of the mystery plays was the original inspiration for this year's English trip - their timing, just a few of months after handing in my MA thesis, was happily fortuitous and an excellent excuse for another trip back to Blighty. So back to Blighty I went, or more specifically back to York - this time with both my Grandmas, which made it even more special.

Despite being born a Lancashire rose I am very fond of the white rose county and of York in particular, which despite visiting only twice I have quite fallen in love with. So it was very nice to be back!

We went to a matinee performance of the plays, which turned out to be a good thing as the running time, billed at three and a half hours, ended up being nearer four. Thanks to jetlag, if we had gone in the evening I would probably have been gently snoozing long before Doomsday. On second thoughts, perhaps I wouldn't, as the Minster - all stone and shadow - was distinctly chilly.

By happy forethought, we had front row seats. It was a full house - testament to the popularity of the plays and this production in particular, which does seem to have been a fairly resounding success both with the critics and the general public. The Minster's nave had been converted into seating for around a thousand people - the third nearest the stage was flat but the back two-thirds was raked scaffolding, soaring up and back towards the West Window. 

The stage and set were huge, spread over four playing levels and linked by a series of wide, broad steps. Like the seating, the set reached upwards and backwards, almost to the top of the organ atop the quire screen. This kind of scale was of course the complete antithesis to the original performances of the play cycle, which were staged on small, mobile pageant wagons, but it worked well. Firstly, it evoked the scale and sweep of the cycle, which spans Biblical history from Creation to Doom, and secondly, well, such a big stage was necessary to accommodate the huge cast! This numbered roughly a hundred and forty, all except one (Philip McGinley, playing Christ) unpaid volunteers and many of them from the local community who have been performing in various productions of the plays for years (sometimes decades).

Out of so many characters, it is hard to pick favourites, but Philip McGinley was very good as Christ - though he puzzled me somewhat by making his first entrance clad rather incongruously in jeans and T-shirt but appearing thereafter in more conventional whitey-grey robes. Toby Gordon, as Lucifer, was (perhaps worryingly...) even better, but he reminded me of Dominic Cooper and once this thought had popped into my head it wouldn't pop out again. Ruby Baker as Mary and Mark Comer (one of the recurring devotees of the mystery plays) as Joseph were also excellent. Abraham I remember chiefly for the fact that he had to read his lines off a piece of paper hidden under his cloak (clearly someone was ill and he gamely stepped into the breach), Noah and Mrs Noah for their comic sparring, and Herod for his massive golden cape which spread over the entire stage and required an army of minions to manoeuver.

This version presented eighteen pageants (the original medieval play cycle has about forty-seven), though several of these consisted of two or three of the original short pageants run together into a longer section. The Middle English script had been 'lightly modernised,' retaining the alliterative rhythm of the original while introducing a few modern touches, such as Noah's 'Don't touch - the paint's not dry!' (said to God, inspecting the ark) and Lucifer's wail of 'It's not fair!' while being thrown into hell.

My two favourite episodes were the Creation and the Passion - the former for its colour, light and incredibly lifelike animal puppets, and the latter (which is really the heart of the entire cycle) for its solemn grandeur. Runners-up were the Nativity, for its tableaux effect, and the Entry into Jerusalem, for its movement and momentum.

No photographs of the actual performance - alas, this was not the free and easy Pop-Up Globe. But there are quite a few on the production's website, here.

2018: Summer of Mysteries

Not one but two productions of English mystery play cycles are planned for the summer of 2018: a wagon production of the (abridged) York cycle, and a version of the Chester plays.

Keep an eye on their respective websites (York Mystery Play Supporters Trust and Chester Mystery Plays).

‘It's not fair! You’ve not seen the last of me —’

Lucifer, The Last Judgement

Mike Poulton, The York Mystery Plays in a New Version (London: Nick Hern Books, 2016), 123.

Springtime

In celebration of the first day of spring, here is an extract from my favourite Middle English poem - Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - describing the waning of winter and the coming of spring.

Bot thenne the weder of the worlde wyth wynter hit threpes,

Colde cleges adoun, cloudes uplyften,
Schyre schedes the rayn in schowres ful warme,
Falles upon fayre flat, flowres there schewen.
Both groundes and the greves grene ar her wedes,
Bryddes busken to bylde, and bremlych syngen
For solace of the softe somer that sues therafter
          bi bonk;
And blossumes bolne to blow
Bi rawes rych and ronk,
Then notes noble innoghe
Ar erde in wod so wlonk.

Modern English translation by moi:

But then the weather of the world with winter it contends,
Cold shrinks down, clouds drift away,
Brightly falls the rain in showers full warm,
Falling on fair fields, flowers there growing.
Both ground and groves, green are their weeds 
Birds begin to build, and bravely sing
For solace in the soft summer that follows thereafter
        on every bank
And blossoms swell to bloom
In the hedgerows rich and rank;
Then many notes noble enough
Are heard in the wood so glorious.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight l.504-515, in ed. A. C. Crawley Pearl, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Everyman, London 1970).

Playing the System

via

The happiest news that e'er was heard...

THE POP-UP GLOBE IS COMING BACK!!

For what little information is currently available, see  

http://www.popupglobe.co.nz/

and

https://www.facebook.com/PopupGlobe/

Glory hallelujah!

On the trail of the Blackburns

While in York this past June I went back to the church of All Saints North Street, the parish church of the Blackburn family, to photograph the windows they donated to the church. They donated two windows, the Corporal Acts of Mercy Window and the St Anne Window (also known as the Blackburn Family Window, for fairly obvious reasons). These medieval windows are among the most famous in York and provide some of the best evidence we have about the Blackburn family. From them we can work out that:

• the Blackburns were a wealthy family - very much so 

• they were not averse to having this wealth displayed - probably quite the opposite

• they were probably a genuinely pious family, but they made jolly sure that this piety was of the visible kind. In this they are a typical medieval upper-middle-class citizens, practising what I call 'practical piety.'  

• their favourite saints were St Anne, St Christopher and St John the Baptist

• the Blackburn women were probably literate (though this was not as uncommon as is popularly thought) and wanted this to be known

• they were important people in their local parish and in the wider city 

Stained glass and practical piety

The Blackburns' motivation for donating the windows was, at least primarily, a charitable one. But, from a worldly point of view, the windows ensured that their significant wealth and their substantial largesse were on public and very visible display. From a spiritual standpoint, the Blackburns would almost certainly have viewed their donation as helping to cement them in God's good graces - an attitude that was typical of the pre-Reformation mindset. Moreover, by having themselves depicted in the windows, the Blackburns ensured that they would be remembered after death. This was not so much from worldly vanity (though no doubt that came into it too) but rather so that people looking at the windows would be reminded to pray for the repose of the Blackburns' souls. Preoccupation with purgatory and the state of the soul after death is another medieval trait.

The windows

The Corporal Acts of Mercy Window I have already written about here. But here it is again, because the reds and blues in the glass are so pretty:

This is the St Anne Window. Currently this window forms the church's East Window, which, as it is directly behind the altar, is a church's most prominent and most important window. However, this is almost certainly not the original positioning of the window; probably it was initially in the Lady Chapel, in the north aisle of the quire. At some point it was moved to the altar, which unfortunately means that the altar candles and crucifix get in the way of a good photograph:

St Anne is in the centre light; on her left (the right as you look at the window) is St Christopher carrying the Christ Child, and on her right St John the Baptist. Directly below St Anne sits the risen Christ enthroned in glory, flanked on either side by Nicholas and Margaret Blackburn senior (to the right as you look at the window) and their son and heir Nicholas junior with his wife, also a Margaret, on the left.

Here is a better view of the saints in the three main lights:

And here are the Blackburns themselves, kneeling piously and reading diligently in the bottom corners of the window. These are the senior Blackburns; Nicholas is shown in armour, possibly a reference to his position as King's Admiral of the North. Note the shield with 'B' (for Blackburn) in the centre. The lettering along the bottom originally read 'Orate pro animabus Nicholai Blakeburn senoris quondam maioris civitatis Ebor. et Margarete uxoris eius' [Pray for the soul of Nicholas Blackburn, former mayor of the city of York, and for Margaret his wife].

And here are Nicholas and Margaret junior:

The Blackburn shield is repeated, as is the lettering along the bottom, which seems to be the same as that under the senior Blackburns except that the word senoris is replaced with junioris. The fact that both Margarets are shown reading from the Psalms (Margaret junior reads Psalm 6 [Vulgate numbeing] and Margaret senior Psalm 50) is probably intended to draw attention to their literacy as well as their piety. As mentioned above, women's literacy was not as uncommon as is sometimes thought, but did presuppose a certain level of familial wealth and prestige.

The Blackburns in Blackburn

The Blackburns were not originally a York family. They came from Lancashire, almost certainly from the area around what is now the city of Blackburn. Whether the Blackburns were named after the city or the city after the Blackburns is not clear.

On my last Sunday in England I visited Lancashire's Samlesbury Hall, and what did greet me in the Great Hall but - 

The Blackburn coat of arms is the second from the right.

- lo and behold, a Blackburn coat of arms, complete with helpful date. 

I know next to nothing of heraldry (clearly a deficiency in my education :D). But some preliminary research suggests that the black wavy line through the centre of the shield represents the stream or river, known as the Black Brook or Black Water, on the banks of which the town was built. The white background possibly refers to wool or cloth; the manufacture of this was the town's chief industry and one which we know the Blackburn family to have been involved in. The stars, which apparently are correctly termed mullets, are interesting because as far as I can make out they were quite rare in the Middle Ages. Apparently they signify something along the lines of 'favoured by God' - which would fit neatly with the family's evident desire to claim, and proclaim, piety and prosperity.

Looking at the Blackburn Borough Council coat of arms I think it is possible to trace the much older Blackburn family coat of arms in the design:

image in public domain, via

The design has obviously been added to over the years, but the central elements are strikingly similar to the medieval Blackburn coat of arms: the white background, the black wavy line, and the three stars or bees - two above the line and one below. The bees apparently signify industry and perseverance; their initial letter, 'B', is also the initial letter of the town.

Heraldic sources:

Blackburn with Darwin coat of arms

Fleur de lis | Symbolism of heraldic elements

The Revenger's Tragedy

Stray Theatre Company (the University of Auckland's student drama club) is performing the Jacobean Revenger's Tragedy this week Wednesday to Saturday, 7pm in the Arts 1 Drama Studio. Tickets $10 for students and $12.50 for adults through here.

                       Faith, give Revenge her due,

She's kept touch hitherto - be merry, merry,

Advance thee, oh thou terror to fat folks

To have their costly three-piled flesh worn off

As bare as this - for banquets, ease and laughter

Can make great men, as greatness goes by clay,

But wise men, little, are more great than they.

The Revenger's Tragedy I.1.43-49.

One's first conference

Yours truly shall be heading off to Wellington next February for the eleventh biennial conference of the Australian and New Zealand Association for Medieval And Early Modern Studies (phew, what a mouthful, and even the shorter ANZAMEMS isn't much better). My proposal, on the family, faith and fortune of our old friends the Blackburns, has been accepted (hooray!) and now I shall have to give a fifteen minute presentation at a Real Conference in front of Real Academics (gulp). 

Margaret and Nicholas Blackburn junior, in the Blackburn family window, All Saints North Street, York

The Hobbit in Lancashire

Found this while hunting up reviews of the York Mystery Plays and couldn't resist sharing it:

https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2016/jul/15/the-hobbit-review-tolkien-peter-jackson-williamson-park-lancaster-dukes

Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

Richard III, the HandleBards, and Shakeshafte

This was one of the funniest things I have ever seen. I haven't laughed so much since Twelfth Night at the Pop-Up Globe.

The HandleBards tour the UK on bicycles, playing Shakespeare (usually outdoors) at various points along the route. They carry with them whatever props, costume and scenery they can squeeze onto their bikes (i.e. not much). There is a girls' group and a boys' group, each only four strong, and it was 'The Boys' we saw, performing Richard III in the grass courtyard of Lancashire's Hoghton Tower.

Richard III has a cast of forty-two. One of the HandleBards played Richard, and the other three took the remaining forty-one between them. As they helpfully pointed out, that is an average of 13.6 characters each. Needless to say, delightful chaos ensued; The Tragedy of King Richard III became The Farce of Richard and III Other Actors. What Shakespeare would have thought one can only guess, but one has a sneaking suspicion he might approve. It was fast, rowdy and fun.

Paring Shakespeare back to this extent, and treating the text and characters with a cheerful and reckless abandon, is brave, but it clearly paid off with a vengeance. The endless character swapping (done mostly by donning and doffing different hats) meant that the audience (and quite possibly the actors) was never quite sure who was playing whom at any given moment, and for those not familiar with the original play it probably boarded on the completely confusing (I know it reasonably well, and it was confusing enough to me). The whole thing was quite barmy and yet utterly hilarious. Only in England!

Richard III is Shakespeare's second-longest play (only Hamlet is longer) but they managed to squeeze it into about two hours. This was something of a mercy because it was open-air, and Lancashire's evening air, even in the height of summer, is apt to be rather parky. However, at least it didn't rain.

Hoghton Tower, via

Seeing Shakespeare at Hoghton Tower was particularly special because there is a local story that Shakespeare's so-called 'lost years' were spent in Lancashire, and that he lived for a while at Hoghton Tower as well as the homes of other prominent local families. The reasoning behind begins with the premise that Shakespeare was a Catholic and runs thus: several of the teachers at Shakespeare's Stratford school were Jesuit priests from Lancashire, which was a recusant stronghold during the Reformation; since he had connections in the area or at the very least people of his own faith, Shakespeare may therefore have headed up there when facing trouble at home (there is a story that he poached Thomas Lucy's deer, earning the wrath of that local lord). Once oop north, the story is that he lay low (Lancashire, surrounded by hills, is sometimes known as the 'hidden county;' the difficulty of passing the hills made the county a relatively safe one for Catholics during the Reformation) and tutored the children of the local Catholic gentry. 

The 1581 will of Alexander de Hoghton mentions a William Shakeshafte 'now dwelling with me,' requiring a Sir Thomas Hesketh either to take Shakeshafte into his service or to find him another 'master.' What kind of master is not specified, but the mention of Shakeshafte comes just after one of players, 'play clothes' [presumably costumes] and musical instruments, so the theory is that de Hoghton was seeking for the young actor Shakespeare the security of a patron. Shakespeare, the story goes, began his acting career in Lancashire, performing in the halls of the great houses there (apart from Hoghton Tower, Rufford Old Hall, the home of Sir Thomas Hesketh, also lays claim to harbouring Shakespeare). And the Shakeshafte bit? That was an alias, of course, because Thomas Lucy was still thirsting for William's blood. (It has been suggested that Shakeshafte was a variant of the family name used by William's grandfather.)

As with so many of the stories surrounding Shakespeare, this one is impossible to prove or disprove (many Shakespearean scholars would pooh-pooh it), but it makes for a jolly good yarn. One rather surprising subscriber to the story is the ex-Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, who has concluded that Shakespeare 'probably was Catholic!' (Wonders will never cease.) Furthermore, Dr Williams has actually written a play based on an imagined meeting between the Jesuit martyr Edmund Campion, who is known to have spent time in Lancashire, and William Shakespeare. If Shakespeare is Shakeshafte, then it is indeed possible that they may have met.

The historian Michael Wood also believes that Shakespeare spent time in Lancashire. The second episode of his series In Search of Shakespeare, which you can view here, examines the Lancashire connection and Alexander de Hoghton's will.

Other useful links:

HandleBards website 

Hoghton Tower website 

Rufford Old Hall website 

Shakeshafte at the Dylan Thomas Theatre

BBC article on Shakespeare and Rufford Old Hall 

English Historical Fiction Authors | Shakespeare in Lancashire 

 

Is this Shakespeare country?

Shakespeare at the George | The Tempest

This, which was the opening night of the run, took place, literally, in a tempest! But as forlorn theatre-goers huddled in the George dining room, hoping the inclement weather would pass over, one lady cheerfully said, "If we always waited for the rain to stop, we'd never do anything at all." Quite so - this is the only attitude with which one can approach any outdoor event in England, even at the height of summer. When the rain calmly and relentlessly pours down, the only thing that one can do is keep calm and carry on.

The stage crew delayed the start by about fifteen minutes, which allowed for the worst of the rain to pass off but ensured that the seats were still very wet. However, no true Englishwoman was ever deterred by a little damp:

All rugged up and ready to go at The Tempest*

The courtyard of the George is a brilliant place for Shakespeare; it dates back to the 1600s and still has the upper gallery across the far end. It is thought that the touring companies of players would perform in such inns when they were on the road; they could knock up a trestle stage on one side of the yard and make use of the gallery above. The plebs stood in the yard and the well-heeled could watch from the bedroom windows opening onto the courtyard:

Somebody did watch from one of these windows (presumably in dry and toasty comfort), but about a third of the way through they got bored and disappeared!

I will always have a soft spot for the George, however hard it rains, because this was where I saw my very first Shakespeare play, way back when I was a little twinkie of eight. In a pleasing symmetry, that production was also The Tempest; and no, it didn't rain then - in fact it was a perfect evening, thankyou for asking.

I still have the bookmark which my parents bought for me at that first Tempest (left). Sadly, they are no longer sold, so my souvenir this time was a Shakespeare at the George keyfob (right).

But the play, you ask? Well, it was colourful, lively, good humoured, and the scenes with Trinculo and Stephano were genuinely funny. Prospero was very strong, Miranda soldiered bravely on after acquring a wet derrière early on in the piece (she had to perch decoratively on a green bank which was, of course, soaking wet), and Ariel was peculiarly annoying. She tried to turn her role into a ballet dance, which should not have annoyed me so much as she was no doubt trying to capture Ariel's intangible airiness. But the fact remains that it did annoy me! The musicians were excellent and the gallery, festooned with flowers and leaves, looked very pretty - and a nice contrast to the grey sky and lowering clouds above!

The gallery. NB the clock is wrong.

But the crowning glory of The Tempest will always be the language:

Be not afeared, the isle is full of noises, 

Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twanging instruments

Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices

That, if then I had waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open** and show riches***

Ready to drop upon me**** that, when I waked,

I cried to dream again.

All in all - I wouldn't have missed it for the world :D Thankyou, Grandma!

Website for Shakespeare at the George: http://satg.org.uk/

* Photos from my phone so please excuse the poor quality.

** Too right!

*** rain 

**** this is why we have raincoats nowadays