Guest Post: I am No Man, but I'm Still Important

(Note from Hamlette:  This is an essay my niece wrote for the high school literature class I'm teaching her.  It's so good, I'm sharing it with you as part of my Another LOTR Read-Along.  Enjoy!)

I Am No Man, But I’m Still Important

by V. Kovaciny

When reading The Lord of the Rings, many readers have wondered: Where are the female characters? Where is the femininity and romantic love? There are no women in the Fellowship, and feminity is spread thinly throughout the many pages of The Lord of the Rings. Some readers say the women that do appear are stereotypical and distant, and that they let the men do the work and fight the battles. This has caused some readers to criticize Tolkien’s work and even argue that he is sexist. But are these criticisms valid? Is Tolkien really a bigot, or are his readers, fans, and critics being too nitpicky?

The short answer is yes, we are being unjust. Why? Well, fortunately for you, I’m here to discuss several reasons why.

The most obvious evidence is the case of Eowyn. Like Disney’s Mulan, she is told to stay behind and let the men fight the war. She refuses to lie idle while the world is at stake. She is told to lead the kingdom while her male relatives are away. But she longs for the glory of battle and the admiration of Aragorn, so she dresses up as a man to go with them to war. Her disobeyment actually makes her a more well-molded character. By having her be imperfect, reckless and brave, she is more complex and more...human. Her boldness pays off; she and Merry succeed in killing Witch-King, which was a major blow to the Enemy. Lastly, if the men of Gondor and Rohan (as well as Tolkien) were sexist, wouldn’t Eowyn have been scolded for doing a “man’s job”? She was not, and she was praised for her bravery instead of being accused of insubordination.

Another strong woman in The Lord of the Rings is Galadriel. She is certainly not subservient to her husband, Lord Celeborn. They both share a mutual respect and love for the other. Tolkien does not paint her as less important than him. In fact, story-wise, she plays a bigger role than he does. She is portrayed as wise and powerful, and is also the owner of a ring of power, not her husband. Not only that, but she has strong willpower. Unlike several male characters, such as Boromir, Gollum, and even Frodo, she is able to resist the power of the Ring. She is respected by her people and her husband and succeeds in resisting the ring, which many men failed to do. Not exactly weak and frail, is she?

Arwen too, has a strong willpower. She is faced with a difficult choice: immortality or love. In the end, she chooses a mortal life to be with Aragorn. Her dilemma makes her all the more interesting. Her choice just goes to show that she is perfectly capable of thinking for herself.

A short point that should be made is the importance of the Entwives. While not present in The Lord of the Rings, they are important even in their absence. The Ents miss them deeply. Because the Ents and the Entwives had different interests, the Ents neglected and ignored their wives, and their love dwindled. Tolkien is touching on the value of marriage and union, and how without maintaining love, it will fail. Without the Entwives, the Ents are doomed to extinction.

Take a moment to think about the scenarios and the kinds of relationships Tolkien is writing about. Tolkien was in World War 1, and his characters are also in a war. And historically, more men enlist in the military. As for the relationships, The Lord of the Rings is about friendship, not romance. Tolkien is painting a wonderful story of how friendship can stand through trials just as well as romance can. Romance is second to friendship in The Lord of the Rings. In the end, friendship saves the world.

The women in The Lord of the Rings are not depicted as useless and weak. From Eowyn’s courage, Galadriel’s wisdom, and the Entwives’ love, they each play a part in the world of Middle Earth. Don’t let your views of what makes a strong female character ruin this wonderful story for you.

The Soliloquies -- A Guest Post by Kelda

"The Soliloquies"

by Kelda

What got me started on this was a prof's assertion that soliloquies "by definition must be true," for no one can lie to him/herself. Hamlet's soliloquies show that he is not necessarily "putting an antic disposition" on. There are times that he behaves wildly: after the ghost, with Ophelia, with R&G after the Play within a play, but those are the manic side of his illness, as uncontrolled as the bouts of depression.

Here I will go through each soliloquy, then, and discuss them and how they help explore Hamlet's depression and support my idea that he is bi-polar.

ACT I, SCENE 5, line 5

(This immediately follows the ghost's disappearance, and as he finishes, Horatio and Marcellus find him. They want to know of course what the ghost had to say. Now, okay, Hamlet is spewing "wild and whirling words" and accuses both of being untrustworthy. Once in awhile, Horatio just has to snap back. Hamlet says, "There's ne'er a villain dwelling in Denmark but he's an errant villain." Yes, Horatio is usually soft spoken, but here his nerves and the cold night combine to make him snap back, "It takes no ghost, my lord, to come from the grave to tell us this." This tells us that he'll be ready to speak up about anything.)

O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?
And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart!
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past
That youth and observation copied there,
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven!
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables! Meet it is I set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.]
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word:
It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.'
I have sworn't.

(Notice that Hamlet's first curse is on his mother, not Claudius.)

ACT I,SCENE II, line 12

(Claudius and Gertrude have accepted Hamlet's "fair and loving" agreement to stay in Denmark. I think Claudius overthought this, Y'know the motto: "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer." Hamlet remains in the room alone.)

O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two.
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on; and yet, within a month-
Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!-
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she
(O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle;
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules. Within a month,
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue!

(Again, he principally is angry toward his mother; Claudius just gets by in mention. It's full of exclamation marks -- is he already popping manic? Probably not.)

ACT II, SCENE II, Line 249

(Heeeere they are, R&G. Notice they start out with a string of lies. So it takes no time at all to contrast them with Horatio. Hamlet only needs about 20 lines to get them to admit they are there at the request of the king and queen. Okay, technically not a soliloquy, because R&G are there -- but they're not listening to anything he says until they think he has made a bawdy joke. And Hamlet is again on his theme of  the pollution of the "goodly earth.")

I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my
mirth, forgone all custom of exercises*; and indeed, it goes so
heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth,
seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the
air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical
roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing
to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a
piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in
faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in
action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the
beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what
is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman
neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

(* "forgone all custom of exercise:" remember this: Hamlet tries to reverse this with Horatio, who doesn't let him get away with it.)

ACT II  SCENE II Line 543

O what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That, from her working, all his visage wann'd,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing! No, not for a king,
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha?
'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
To make oppression bitter, or ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal. Bloody bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
O, vengeance!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murther'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words
And fall a-cursing like a very drab,
A scullion!
Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! Hum, I have heard
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players
Play something like the murther of my father
Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
May be a devil; and the devil hath power
T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds
More relative than this. The play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.

(Two "ears" references, lol. This is the longest soliloquy, and it has three distinctive mood changes, at least as Campbell Scott plays it. He comes into large empty room where there is life-size portrait of Claudius hanging high on the wall, with an ornate chair beneath it. He jumps on the chair and wrestles the portrait to the floor, pinning him under it. There's a pause -- the only thing showing of CS is his hands still gripping the frame. There is a low chuckle as he wriggles free, going into "what a rogue and peasant slave am I" and several lines comparing himself to the skill of the First Player. This portion of the soliloquy is self-pitying, but for the first time we see the anger as he builds into "Am I a coward?" He takes control of himself with "About, my brain." He deliberately pulls that dangerous (to himself) mood down, and recalls that the ghost may have been a devil feeding on his mood disorder, and he ends with a more moderate, hopeful note of the Play with in a play. Had I been the Director of the Week ~grin~ I would have had Hamlet slash the portrait at the middle, anger-ridden part of the speech. The king and queen would have noticed it as they passed through the room on their way to play, certainly stirring the king's conscience,)

ACT III, SCENE I, Line 56

TOOT-TOOTL-DOO!

THE SOLILOQUY

To be, or not to be- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins rememb'red.

(In the Campbell Scott version, he is wandering about as the soliloquy begins, carrying a book. He is agitated. He throws himself into a chair, and after a few moments of reflection, he removes his reading glasses and slams them into a side table, shattering them. He touches the tip of the largest shard to his tongue, testing its sharpness.  He cuts three long lines on the inside of his arm. My prof friend, when he saw this, said, "Oh! So we know he means it!" Bipolar moods run in cycles -- sometimes lengthy, sometimes what's called "quick cycling" in a case of hours or even minutes. That can be difficult to deal with. The greatest danger of suicide is not in the deepest depression, when the sufferer often is too overwhelmed to plan and act. It is when the depression begins to lift, and as the manic phase begins. Hamlet is tottering on the brink here. He sees Ophelia, and his mood jumps another notch. But he was a few moments ago referring to the "pangs of desprised love," and unfortunately Ophelia has been too well coached by her father. Hamlet's mania and his related anger run away with his good judgement, resulting in verbal and often physical abuse, shaking her, pushing her against the wall.  And after a too-brief meeting with Horatio, who doesn't have time to dampen his mood, he leaps straight into the over-stimulation of the Play within the play. You'll see him soon in full manic mood with R&G.)

ACT III, SCENE III, line 377

(Immediately after the Play within a play. Backing up a little before before the soliloquy: now you see an all-out manic mood from Hamlet -- he engages in the aforementioned "wild and whirling words" with Horatio, who seems to be amused, and quips "You might have rhymed it." Then R&G make their entrance, and Hamlet turns on them, not just with words, but in most productions he physically assaults one or even both of them, and Polonius gets in on the melee, bearing a message from Gertrude. Hamlet finally ends with "Leave me, friends." I get angry that he has included Horatio with the others. So then, finally to the soliloquy.)

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother!
O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.
Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites-
**How in my words somever she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent!**

(**lol -please tell ME what these lines mean!)

ACT III SCENE III, line 37

(Wherein we catch the conscience of the king.)

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murther! Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will.
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murther-
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above.
There is no shuffling; there the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay.
Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
All may be well.

(There's an interesting image in the last three lines. Look back at ACT I, SCENE V beginning 93, where Hamlet says: "Hold, hold, my heart; and you, my sinews, grow not instant old, but bear me  stiffly up.'" One wants strength to stand, the other wants his heart and sinews to bow before God. Now, this comes from my seminary work and after all these years, I can't be certain I'm getting it right- -the differences are difficult for me, so feel free to correct me! Regarding the Catholic/Protestant attitudes of forgiveness: The Catholic must confess to a priest and perform the assigned penance, so s/he is forgiven on sort of an ongoing, repetitive basis. The Protestant is to confess directly to God (no middle-man cleric) and accept that his/her forgiveness is not so much within the scope of actions (penance) as it is the Grace of God. Claudius strikes me as leaning toward Catholicism -- but where in Denmark could he have found a confessor, and how could he atone, indeed, when he will not surrender his queen, crown or ambition? Another minor point: Protestants pray only to God; Catholics also pray to saints and angels as go-betweens with the Divine, and Claudius implores the intervention of angels.)

ACT III SCENE IV, Line 7

Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven,
And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd.
A villain kills my father; and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge!
He took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
No.
Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.
When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage;
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't-
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

(Hamlet exits; the king, rising, says, "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.  Words without thoughts never to heaven go.")
(Maybe it's just bad luck on Hamlet's part that Claudius isn't sincere in his prayers. Although,  I think Claudius is remorseful. Depending on just when the play was set in Denmark's history, he might have escaped death in favor of life exile. On the other hand, he might have died by 'spread eagle,' where a person is tied face down over a rock, his back and rib cage cut open and his lungs pulled out. That would be bloody enough for even Shakespeare, though would have to be off-stage -- someone, likely Hamlet, would have to describe it.)

ACT IV, SCENE III, Line

And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,-
As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set
Our sovereign process, which imports at full,
By letters congruing to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.

(What do you think of Claudius' decision to push off on England the murder of Hamlet? My first thought was, "Oh yeah -- he fooled everyone but God with his remorse soliloquy." The question which often comes up in these few lines, is do R&G know what's in that letter?? I'll leave that to discuss in ACT/SCENE section.)

ACT IV, SCENE IV, line 37

(Hamlet is at the dock, waiting for his departure. This is often set at dusk, with many campfires burning in the distance. It is cold, and the Prince has been hustled out without a cloak. I remember the first time I saw the soldiers tie his wrists -- I actually gasped aloud that a Prince would be treated so! In my story I'm writing, "Remember Me," Horatio makes his way to the dock, clasping a cloak around his friend's shoulders, and showing him a small knife and Old King Hamlet's signet ring pinned in a fold. When he leaves, reluctantly, Hamlet questions one of the Norwegian soldiers about their mission.)

How all occasions do inform against me
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.
Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on th' event,-
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward,- I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,'
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me.
Witness this army of such mass and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep, while to my shame I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men
That for a fantasy and trick of fame
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

​( Hamlet is taken aback, maybe somewhat ashamed, to see a great army -- supposedly -- dispatched to certain death. He is almost, but not quite, slipping into his depression. Why he calls Fortinbras a delicate and tender prince, I do not know! Assuming directors haven't excised Fortinbras entirely, Claudius' ambassadors have assured him that this is not an invasion, but simply passage to Poland for a war larger than little Denmark. Again with the reference to cowardness, although he somewhat begrudgingly does allow himself 1/4 part wisdom now. The Norwegian army "finds quarrel in a straw," while he has the burden of revenge for his father. His mania holds as he swears to keep his thoughts bloody. His first strike is by proxy R&G, which IMHO is a nice start.)

(Note from Hamlette:  Thanks for sharing your thoughts and insights into all the soliloquies, Kelda!  I'm especially fascinated by your ideas about whether they might show that Hamlet is bi-polar.  Thank you!)

Horatio -- A Guest Post by Kelda

Horatio

by Kelda

Shakespeare gives us complex characters, though sometimes he challenges us to work at getting to know them.  Hamlet is the best known of them. Is he mad? Antic? But lost in Hamlet's shadow is his friend Horatio.

"Detective Horatio" by Laura Guzzo.
Prints available here on Etsy.

Scholars and critics usually simply list him as "Hamlet's friend." The role is relatively small, yet one scholar noted that if the role is played uncut and as Shakespeare intended, he is the only character that cannot be doubled. One critic wrote that Horatio's part is to stand around in every room until someone tells him to leave. In a particular scene, he may have no lines but he is present, as a witness to the evolving events. 

(Kenneth Branagh and Nicholas Farrell, 1996)

Where does he come from? Taking his self-described 'antique Roman', and Shakespeare's tendency to refer to other plays within plays -- like the references to Julius Caesar within Hamlet -- and realizing that Hamlet underestimates his 'poor' status (a pauper would not be at Wittenberg), I decided he was from Venice from one of the merchant classes (Merchant of Venice ~smile~) -- from a family of perhaps wine importers, book binders, or glass blowers. 
  

(Campbell Scott and John Benjamin Hickey, 2000)

What does Shakespeare tell us? Not much. Initially, Horatio joins the soldiers on the battlements. They tell him that an apparition like the late King has appeared to them. He is a scholar, and perhaps it will speak to him. He replies, "Tush, tush, 'twill not appear." This is the first hint of his character. He does not believe in ghosts, and there is reference to his not being a Dane. But when the ghost does appear, Horatio confesses it "harrows me with fear and wonder.... Before my God, I might not this believe without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes." Later, Hamlet chides him, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Some scholars brush this off as a generalized referral. "Your philosophy" just means "anyone's." That  completely ignores his later expanded description: 

"Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for herself. For thou hast been
As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing;
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee" (III, 2).

This description, together with Horatio's self declaration, "I am more an antique Roman than a Dane," pinpoint his philosophy. He is a Stoic, an early Roman school up through the time of Marcus Aurelius. The English word entered the language in the late 1570's, so Shakespeare may not have had the term for it, but Hamlet's definition is accurate. A Stoic maintains a balanced acceptance of his/her life, and strives to live within the balance of Nature. Being rich may be preferable to being poor... the preference is neither good nor bad. Wealth or power or influence are not things to strive for. One should stand up to what befalls her/him in life. There is an Undivided Universe, and in its totality is the concept of God. This infinite Deity is associated with the element of fire. In great cycles, all corporeal being is destroyed by fire. The fire then lies dormant for eons, and is seen as the seed that generates the next cycle of being. In rare circumstances, suicide is permissible -- specifically in situations that can no longer be lived in balance with Nature. Horatio, reaching that point, prefers suicide, but Hamlet gives him a reason to live. 

A Stoic, and therefore Horatio, is not without humor. It's fun to catch him in his little prods and pokes against his friend. Hamlet tells him, "There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark but he's an errant knave," and Horatio retorts, "There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave to tell us this." When Hamlet is romping wildly after the Play within the play, he demands whether he should earn a share in an acting company. Horatio answers, "Half a share," and tells him he "might have rhymed" his improvised lines. He is amused by Hamlet's exchange with Osric. When Hamlet demands to know the meaning of "carriages" with reference to the bet in the duel, Horatio laughs and says, "I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done," described in the glossary as 'I knew you would sooner or later have to have text notes in the margin to follow him.'

(Jude Law and Matt Ryan, 2004)

Horatio is honest to a fault. When Hamlet tells him of the fate of R&G, he is troubled, "So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't." When the Prince accepts the duel, Horatio objects: "You will lose  this wager, my lord." Remember Hamlet telling R&G that he has foregone "exercises?" Now he protests that he has been "in continual practice" in Laertes' absence. He does reluctantly admit "all's ill hereabout my heart." Horatio immediately answers, "If your mind dislike anything, do it not. I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit." I wish we knew more about his thoughts here. There is no reason to be suspicious of the duel being anything other than a practice, and as Hamlet says, there is nothing to lose but the "odd hits." But Horatio, like Hamlet, feels something ill, and it is far more alarming than a mere fencing encounter.

Spoilers ahead, if you have not finished the play: In almost every production, the final scene is Horatio kneeling, cradling his dying friend in his arms, rocked to the soul by Hamlet's refusal to allow him to commit suicide. A director who mishandles this scene should be fired. We meet Horatio in the first act and leave him here in the last one.

(David Tennant and Peter De Jersey, 2009)

What the kids have to say about it. :^) My kids are annoyed by my obsession with Hamlet. One day, waiting at a Friendly's for our banana splits, they decided that it really wasn't fair that Horatio got to live (or maybe that he had to do so), so they began to come up with an alternate ending. The survivors are at a funeral banquet when they are suddenly visited by a Green Alien Space Monkey that is hungry. Horatio is just finishing the last banana, so the GASM kills him. And now everybody is dead, so stop talking about it!!!

~Kelda

(PS. ~grin~ Ask Hamlette about her GASM.)

(Hamlette's note:  Thanks so much for this wonderful character sketch of Horatio!  You know him better than anyone I've ever encountered, and I'm so privileged to share some of your thoughts here.  Alas, my Green Attack Space Monkey has returned to the mother ship, but here are the rest of the awesome Hamlet clothespin dolls you made me so long ago!)

Meg March: A Guest Post by Rose

Meg

by Rose

I’ll admit that I have never before thought much of Meg as a character. I liked her well enough, but compared to Jo, and later Amy, she didn't strike me as very interesting.  However, upon this rereading I suddenly realized that there is a lot more to her than what I thought at first, and now I find her quite a fascinating character.

When you look at Meg, she is everything a young, proper woman of this time period ought to be. She is motherly to her younger sisters, she dreams of romance but is almost unrealistically innocent and proper when it comes to courtship, and her biggest dreams are to have beautiful things and luxuries.
But apart from that, she is a character who has a lot difficulties while learning to be content with her situation in life, and her journey towards that goal and how she accomplishes it is what I in particular like about her.

Meg's struggles are very well summarized in the following:

"She was fond of luxury, and her chief trouble was poverty. She found it harder to bear than the others, because she could remember a time when home was beautiful, life full of ease and pleasure, and want of any kind unknown. She tried not to be envious or discontented, but it was very natural that the young girl should long for pretty things, gay friends, accomplishments, and a happy life. At the Kings she daily saw all she wanted, for the children's older sisters were just out, and Meg caught frequent glimpses of dainty ball-dresses and bouquets, heard lively gossip about theatres, concerts, sleighing parties, and merry-making of all kinds, and saw money lavished on trifles which would have been so precious to her. Poor Meg seldom complained, but a sense of injustice made her feel bitter toward every one sometimes, for she had not yet learned to know how rich she was in blessings which alone can make life happy."

In a time where your class very much defined your identity and your expectations from life, it must have been really hard on Meg to suddenly readjust her entire way of thinking when her family lost their fortune. To suddenly find many of her dreams out of reach, and yet be surrounded by acquaintances who had all the luxuries she dreamed of, must have been almost like being stuck in the middle between two classes, and I think that is one of the main reasons she has such a hard time being content with her situation.

Though she quickly learns that being rich doesn't necessarily means being happy, it isn't until great hardships are thrown upon the family that she realizes how rich she is "in love, protection, peace and health, the real blessings of life."  After Meg has had that realization, it seems she has finally found the key to being happy with her situation, and when we see her 3 years later on the brink of entering her new life it is obvious she has grown a lot in that aspect.

"Somehow envy and discontent soon vanished when she thought of all the patient love John had put into the little home awaiting her, and when they sat together in the twilight, talking over their small plans, the future always grew so beautiful and bright that she forgot Sallie's splendour, and felt herself the richest, happiest girl in Christendom."

Even though contentment is something she keeps fighting with throughout the book, the little glimpses into her married life shows us how she keeps growing.

Many readers today may think that Meg got the least exciting story of the sisters, and though it is true she never got to travel much and see the world, that doesn't mean she didn't get any adventures. She got to experience the great adventure that is marriage and later motherhood, things that most girls dreamed of at that time.

But most importantly, she is a fine example to show that when you are rich in the things of true value, you can be truly happy and content with a simple life.

(Hamlette's Note:  Thanks for this lovely character sketch, Rose!  Meg is easy to overlook, and you've shown us some excellent reasons why she deserves our attention.)

Amy March: A Guest Post by Heidi

Amy March

by Heidi Peterson

Growing up, Meg was always my favorite of the March sisters, but (while I've now come to appreciate Jo's complexity and character development, and also Beth's sweetness and patience) of late I've been most particularly intrigued (and impressed!) by Amy.

Not universally (but often), Amy seems to be viewed as merely, "Oh yes, the youngest sister that eventually gets Laurie."  End of Story. But I think she very much deserves some attention and a closer examination in her own right.

Amy goes from being slightly spoiled at the beginning -- walking through life with her nose in the air (also exhibiting vengeful anger and a horrible lack of self-control in the incident with Jo's burned book) -- to a truly lovely, kind, cultured woman. Throughout, she is very consciously striving to live out what she believes.

Now, Alcott was pretty certainly writing from a transcendentalist worldview, i.e. leading in part to the idea of a person willing themselves to certain virtues, goodness, etc., whereas we know it's God -- and only ever God -- who can do the work in us, strengthening and giving us both the ability and desire to live out His commands. He alone is always, always initiating (doing the work in us that we absolutely never could) yet, as we're yielding to His working hand, it's definitely still a cognitive process, played out in time and space. At some point (or many points!) we have to make the conscious decision to act in ways that don't come naturally to us (being polite, gracious, forgiving, etc.) whether or not we feel like it.

On the day-to-day level, I like to think of it in terms of C.S. Lewis's words. To quote: 

"The rule for all of us is perfectly simple. Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him. If you injure someone you dislike, you will find yourself disliking him more. If you do him a good turn, you will find yourself disliking him less."

And I think Amy finds out this great secret.

Growing womanly over the course of the story, she's also a beautiful example of honest humility and wise discretion. She's diligent, not afraid of hard work (she never complains), and she's strong -- making her decisions and sticking with them, yet not afraid to change her mind. She isn’t afraid of wholesome confrontation, but -- dropping the petty, sinful squabbles of childhood -- becomes the woman who can rouse Laurie to reality and action. She also isn't too stubborn to change when he, in turn, candidly points out her weaknesses.

Finally Amy -- a true and gracious woman thinking first of others, seeking to bless and help them with her talents and gifts -- becomes the perfect lover and helpmeet for her husband.

(Hamlette's Note:  Thank you for this beautiful portrait of Amy and the way her character growth can inspire us on our own personal journeys!  Also, I loooooove the paintings you chose to illustrate this.)

Marmee March: A Guest Post by Kelly-Anne

Marmee

by Kelly-Anne

Every time I open my well-worn copy of Little Women, I am captured by the character of Marmee.
I love this wise and gentle mother. I admire her diligent efforts to keep her little daughters from being idle and teaching them through her own example how to attain a servant's heart and a life of true worth.

The author of Little Women, Louisa May Alcott, describes Mrs March very briefly as "a tall, motherly lady, with a 'can-I-help-you' look about her," and I noticed that she left a lot about Marmee's character merely to dialogue.

"She was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman and the girls thought the grey coat and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world" (p. 11).

Marmee truly inspires me. From what I understand, she was not a beautiful woman in the eyes of the world, but she had an inward beauty which truly shone through and drew people to her.  She was humble, faithful, wise, understanding, always seeking to uplift another, always ready to help someone in need, motherly, joyful and above all, ever dependent on her Saviour -- both in times of joy and sorrow.

Unlike the many mothers of her time, Mrs March could be explained as quite unworldly in many of her ideas and hopes for her daughters' futures:

- She didn't desire to marry them off to rich husbands, but rather young men who would love and cherish them all the days of their lives.

- She didn't want them to have grand houses, elegant clothes and numerous servants, but rather simple, thankful hearts that were always looking for ways to bless, help and encourage others.

- She didn't encourage vanity, but rather a life of fruitfulness, productivity, and happiness in simple pleasures.

"You have a good many little gifts and virtues, but there is no need of parading them, for conceit spoils the finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long, and the great charm of all power is modesty" (p. 66).

Marmee could always be relied upon for a kind word and never too busy to encourage or correct a wandering soul.  But like every mother who has ever walked this earth, she was not perfect and just like you and I, in need of the grace and love that can only come from above.

In chapter 9, we see Marmee regretting her decision to allow Meg to visit a very fashionable and wealthy family for a fortnight of pleasure.  She says, "I was very unwise to let you go among people of whom I know so little -- kind, I daresay, but worldly, ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people" (p. 89).

Alcott portrayed Marmee to be a brave, strong lady who was a wonderful support for her family during their long separation.  But in chapter 15 the March ladies receive a telegram saying that their beloved husband and father is lying far away in Washington, desperately ill and perhaps dying.
 Only for a moment does Mrs March's strong character weaken and we catch a glimpse of who she truly was:  someone who was weak and frail, but who had firm faith in the Almighty God.

This brave lady had sent off her husband whom she loved so much and whose opinion she valued above any other, to fight for his country, knowing that anything could happen to him and leave her alone to raise their girls.  She said, "Your father, Jo... He helped and comforted me, and showed me that I must try to practice all the virtues I would have my little girls possess" (p. 75).

Marmee was a very special, Godly woman, and we can see the result of her virtue by observing her four daughters and the wonderful young women that they grew to become.  Her prayers, her wise lessons and her "gentle and quiet spirit" was such a great example for her daughters and I think we can learn a lot from her.

I conclude with one of my favourite quotes by Marmee, taken from chapter 11:

"Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life will become a beautiful success in spite of poverty."


(Note from Hamlette:  Thank you for this delightful character sketch, Kelly-Anne!  I think you have captured Marmee's likeness beautifully.)

"The March Family Letters" -- a Guest Review by Birdie

The March Family Letters

by Birdie

With the huge popularity of 'vlog'-style adaptations of classic works of literature, it was only a matter of time before someone would adapt Little Women in this way. And lo and behold, since Christmas last year, The March Family Letters have started on YouTube. The modern day adaptation of Little Women is the first webseries by the Canadian Cherrydale Productions, but is broadcast on the Pemberley Digital channel, well-known for The Lizzie Bennet Diaries and Emma Approved.

In the adaptation, the four March sisters, led (or should I say coerced?) by Jo, are filming updates for their mother 'Marmee,' who is deployed. The updates vary from snippets of everyday life to Meg's 'How to' videos, Amy trying to follow current YouTube memes, and Beth performing her self-written songs. Soon, we meet some friends of the sisters, their neighbor Laurie and his tutor Joan Brooks.

Before I give my opinion about this webseries, I must say I 'binge' watched it over the last week. I never know whether this is a good idea with webseries, or whether you lose something by not following the story in small chunks over time.

With that out of the way:  I'm not a big fan of The March Family Letters. I definitely think the idea behind the vlogs is a good one. It feels natural for a family to want to update a relative, and this technique is also used in From Mansfield with Love, a webseries based on Mansfield Park which I absolutely love. No, it's the characters which trouble me. I just can't connect the loud, pushy and weird-lipstick-wearing Jo of this adaptation with Alcott's beloved Jo. Nor does Meg feel quite right; she seems cold and almost arrogant. I read a comment beneath one of the videos about Amy, how she 'made Lydia Bennet look like a responsible adult.' So yes, I can see the characters resemble those that Alcott created, but they all seem inflated, larger-than-life and somewhat unrealistic. You might notice I didn't mention Beth. That's because I like her portrayal best of the four sisters so far. She's quiet, shy, but clearly talented, and loves her sisters and home-life very much. As to Laurie, I reserve my judgement, because I feel we haven't gotten to know him well enough. Which is in itself a little point of criticism, I feel like his closeness with the March sisters came out of nowhere.

So far, in the story line, I have not seen a lot of big changes from the novel. Of course there are the necessary changes to adapt a 19th century story to the modern-day, but they are done quite cleverly, I think. One example is how Amy's revenge against Jo is portrayed -- really quite shocking! The main changes are in the characters' everyday life. Instead of dreaming of becoming a writer, Jo is now in film-school and dreams of directing her own movies. This annoys me for some reason: Jo should just be a writer. Meg does a program in business engineering and Beth plays the guitar instead of the piano. And, maybe you understood from my short synopsis above: John Brooke has been changed into a woman, which might lead to a pretty big change later in the story.

What I also really miss in this series is the presence of Marmee. She doesn't necessarily need to be present in the videos herself, but her presence in the lives of her daughters is very much missed. In the novel she is such an important example and teacher for the girls, and here they have to discover and learn everything by themselves. There have not yet been a lot of learning moments by the characters, though there were a few poignant moments in the last episodes, so I have hope the series is finding its pace and its heart.

If you are a big fan of Little Women and the characters of Jo, Meg, Beth and Amy you might want to content yourself with the novel and the excellent adaptations already out there. But, if you're curious what these four sisters would be like in our 21th century, you could give The March Family Letters a try. I think I'll keep following it for a while and give the characters some time to develop and grow. Maybe they will grow on me!


(Note from Hamlette:  Thanks for this enlightening review, Birdie!  I'm hoping to find a bit of time to try this series for myself.)

Beth March: A Guest Post by Olivia

Beth March

by Olivia (Arwen)

Hello, people! 

I'd like to talk about my favorite character from Little Women:  Beth.  (Of course, her full name is Elizabeth, but why would we ever call little Bethie by her full name?)  Oh, and this is my first attempt at a character sketch, so… please be patient ;-)

(If this is your first reading of LW -- gasp! -- then you should be aware that there will be spoilers in this post.)

At the start of Little Women, Beth is described thus: 

"A rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed.  Her father called her "Little Tranquility," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved." (Chapter 1 of Book I,  "Playing Pilgrims") 

The reason Beth is my favorite is that she's so thoughtful and considerate and selfless.  Take, for example, when she visits the Hummels even when she's not feeling well, and in so doing, she contracts a fever that permanently robs her of health, and eventually takes her life.

She works quietly for her family's benefit, helping Hannah, making the house bright with little "Beth touches," caring for the kittens, etc.  I love this quote that Alcott used to describe her:  "There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully, that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind."  (Chapter 4 of Book I, "Burdens")

At one point, Jo refers to Beth as her conscience, but honestly, I think she's the conscience of all three of her sisters.  She's the peacemaker, as Alcott says.  She's the constant -- always there for her sisters when they return from whatever flights of fancy or derring-do they've last completed.  During Beth's first bout of sickness, I'm especially struck by how Amy suddenly realizes how much Beth means to her.  "[Amy] went to her little chapel, and, sitting in the twilight, prayed for Beth with streaming tears and an aching heart, feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the loss of her gentle little sister."  (Chapter 19 of Book I, "Amy's Will") 

Speaking of her sickness…

Another thing I admire about Beth is her childlike faith in God, especially when she realizes that she will never fully recover.  "She could not say, 'I’m glad to go,' for life was very sweet to her; she could only sob out, 'I’ll try to be willing.'" (Chapter 13 of Book II, "Beth’s Secret")  She just resigns herself, not in a trite, self-martyring way, but in the sweetest, simplest act of letting go, the beauty of which occasionally takes my breath away. 

What remarkable trust resides in that small, frail body!  What a capacious heart, what a pure religion, what patience, what peace.  In the fullest sense of the word, I think I can honestly say that Beth inspires me.  I want to be like her -- sunshine in my home, gentleness embodied, willing to take the Lord's hand and follow Him wherever He might lead, saying merely, "Yes, Lord."  (I've got a long way to go.)

"Seeing [Beth "weaning herself from life"] did more for Jo than the wisest sermons, the saintliest hymns, the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter; for… she recognized the beauty of her sister's life -- uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which 'smell sweet, and blossom in the dust;' the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all." (Chapter 17 of Book II, "The Valley of the Shadow")

(Hamlette's Note:  Thanks so much for writing this guest post, Olivia/Arwen!  You've highlighted Beth's sweetness and light so well.)

"Spiderweb for Two: A Melendy Maze" by Elizabeth Enright

My seven-year-old son, Sam, loves this book.  And by 'loves' I mean he's read it probably six or seven times through since we first got it from the library.  We just keep renewing it so he can read it again.  But I'd never read this book before.  I know I read a couple of the others in the Melendy Quartet when I was a kid, namely The Four-Story Mistake and The Saturdays.  But I definitely never read this, which is a shame, because I would have loved it so much.  Perhaps the library system simply didn't have it.

Since Sam loves this series so much, I decided to read one of the books myself.  I asked him which one he thought I should read, and he said this one.  I liked it so well, I plan to read the other three books too, as I have the time.  They are enchanting.

Spiderweb for Two is about two siblings, Oliver and Miranda "Randy" Melendy, who spend many months following little clues on a treasure hunt.  Their older siblings have all gone away to school, and at the beginning of the book, Randy and Oliver think they're going to have a terrible year because they're the only ones left at home.  Randy thinks Oliver is childish, and Oliver thinks Randy is boring.  Over the course of the book, thanks to having to work together to solve riddles and find more clues, they grow to truly like and appreciate each other, which was my favorite aspect of the whole book.

First Line:  Randy was certain that this was going to be the worst winter of her life.

Particularly Good Bits:

The truth was that the young Melendys were acquiring a taste for old cemeteries.  There was something very peaceful, they thought, about the quiet places; the tilted stones patched with lichens, standing in a bee-humming tangle of myrtle and wild asters (p. 48).

Oliver slept late and no one woke him as it was Sunday.  He came down at nine fifteen, hungry as a wolf, and indulged in a waffle orgy (p. 111).

"When you were what?" said Father, setting down his coffee cup.  "I wonder if everyone's children act like this;  I always thought children just lived normal lives:  eating, playing baseball, reading books... not taking waterfalls apart and mislaying their parent's mail." (p. 137)

The children sat on the floor, breathing steamily, utterly absorbed in these different distant people who had been themselves (p. 146).

If This was a Movie, I Would Rate It:  G for good, clean fun.

This is my 17th book read and reviewed for the Classics Club, and my 18th book for the I Love Library Books challenge, which means I've completed that challenge too!