Showing posts with label Battle of Wakefield. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Battle of Wakefield. Show all posts

Saturday, March 31, 2012

You Win or You Die


I have become addicted to the TV show Game of Thrones. I watched the premiere episode last spring and it didn’t quite grab me—but then someone told me that the source material (George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire) is actually based on the Wars of the Roses and I was All. Over. That!

So, some references are fairly obvious:

Stark = York, Lannister = Lancaster.  Westeros is essentially all of Europe, although more England than anything.  The Wall is Hadrian's Wall; the wildlings are probably the aboriginal Britons, the Celts who were driven out by the Roman troops.  The southern kingdoms seem to be sort of Aquitaine-ish, with all the flowers and sultry living.




Physically Westeros looks more like Scotland than England.
I wonder if that makes the Dothraki Irish!



Part of the fun of watching something like this is figuring out who is based on whom—and then examining how Martin upends those prototypes, or combines them with others. King Robert is clearly intended to be your basic Edward IV-type:

  • heavy-set*
  • drinks a lot
  • whores around
  • strong warrior who led a rebellion and supplanted a Mad King.

[And let me say, I called Robert’s death a loooong time ago, I had a feeling something dreadfully William Rufus-ish would happen to him. Know your fairy tales and STAY OUT of the Forbidden Forest!]

However.  Edward was a MUCH better king than Robert and his marriage to his eventual queen was certainly not the cold political alliance of Cersei and Robert. In fact Edward lost significant political support when he married Elizabeth Woodville [thoroughly pissing off his main backer, Warwick the Kingmaker, who ended up leading another rebellion AGAINST Edward and reinstating the previous King, Henry VI. The Wars of the Roses can be hellishly confusing—the timeline reads like a litany: …Henry VI, Edward IV, Henry VI, Edward IV]. 


Poor Henry is the clearest parallel for Aerys the Mad King, but Henry’s insanity was pretty harmless stuff, mainly a lot of praying and swaying—he certainly wasn’t burning anyone alive!  [Henry did have an unfortunate habit of wandering off during important battles though…after the 2nd Battle of St. Albans they found him sitting under a tree singing.] 


Sorry blokes, d’you need me for something? Wot, I'm KING, how'd that happen?

So this seems to make Cersei the counterpart for Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV’s gorgeous, cold consort—but in her cool, straightforward bids for power, Cersei actually strikes me as more of a Margaret of Anjou, Henry’s Queen. Margaret, a fierce HBIC, led ARMIES, for God’s sake—there’s an hilariously disapproving account of her in Edward Hall’s Chronicles, courtesy of Richard Duke of York, frosty with frustrated battlefield chauvinism.



Gah!  How tackily unfeminine!
The Duke of York barely lived to regret his sneering words as Margaret's army promptly handed his ass to him in the Battle of Wakefield the next day, wiping out the Yorkists. Ol' Richard's head ended up decorating a gate outside his eponymous city, adorned with a paper crown saying "Let York overlook the town of York. "Oooh, that is COLD, Margaret!

Margaret had just one child, one precious son, Edward of Lancaster, the Prince of Wales, of whose birthright she was extremely protective. 



Mummy, how come everyone says I look so much like Uncle Jaime the Duke of Somerset?


Like Cersei’s Joffrey [and Paul I, Catherine the Great’s only child who almost certainly was not fathered by her husband, the previous Tsar], Edward's paternity was questioned (delicately)—poor crazy, singing Henry didn’t really seem up to the task! Perhaps due to his somewhat unsettled childhood and his mother’s weird habit of consulting her son on how to execute prisoners, Edward was disturbingly precocious in his zest for York blood.  One foreign observer said the boy 
already talks of nothing but cutting off heads or making war, as if he had everything in his hands or was the god of battle or the peaceful occupant of that throne.


Edward would have been right at home in King's Landing!

But who is the Prince's analogue? In Game of Thrones, there are several candidates:

  • That psychopath Joffrey, obviously.  Although Edward was never THAT sadistic;  frankly Joffrey seems more like Caligula!
  • Robin, the bloodthirsty heir of Eyrie, who likes to see prisoners “fly!”--out the window and down a 1000-foot drop. However as attached as Edward might have been to his formidable mother, he did NOT breastfeed to the age of 8. [My eyes!]
  • Vicerys, the pretender to the Iron Throne, who like Edward maintained a court in exile after fleeing his homeland as a child.


As for all the incest?  I got nothing.  The Lancasters and the Yorks didn't really keep it in the family a la the Ptolemys--the one possible exception is the rumor that Richard III was seeking to marry his niece Elizabeth of York after his first wife died.  The English didn't really go for that sort of tackiness, though.  The Habsburgs, however...**

*Henry VIII, Edward’s grandson, strongly resembled Edward, both physically and in personality. Both were stunning physical specimens in youth—tall, fair, athletic—with significant weight gain in later life; both were charming but absolutely draconian when they had to be.



**I have been meaning to do an entry on the most notorious member of that unbelievably inbred family, Carlos el Hechizado--the Bewitched.  He was his own cousin MANY times over and the results weren't pretty.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Macbeth Redux (Hey, is that a dagger I see before m-oof!)

Loyal readers may recall my entry in January about the Scottish play and laws of war in the Middle Ages.  Our production closed two weeks ago and turned out quite well, all things considered.  This production was set in the '30s, with a more militaristic angle than is perhaps usually taken.  For most of the final week of rehearsal I was either away from the theater or helping out backstage, so I saw it all the way through for the first time only on opening night--and was treated to a most interesting...anachronism?  No, an egregious violation of the very laws of war I'm currently studying at Columbia!












Most people remember the last scene of Macbeth for the famous showdown between Mackers and his nemesis, Macduff:



          Macd. 
          Turne Hell-hound, turne.

          Macb.
          Of all men else I haue auoyded thee:
          But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd
          With blood of thine already.



Macbeth doesn't want to fight because he's already wiped out most of Macduff's family--though he has damned himself through his murderous deeds, he yet retains some vestiges of humanity.  This is important because Macbeth believes himself to be invulnerable: as he tells Macduff I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld/To one of woman borne.  BUT.  Macduff is about to reveal he himself was not in fact "borne"--his mother had an impromptu (and undoubtedly fatal, in the 11th century) Caesarean section (so-called because Julius Caesar was supposedly delivered that way--this is suspect, however) and hence Shit is About to Get Real.






In classic tragic style, Good defeats Evil:  Macduff kills Macbeth and displays his head to the other nobles and the Scottish army...


This one's for the groundlings.  For our production I suggested displaying Macbeth and Lady Macbeth hanging upside,
like Mussolini and Claretta Petacci at the end, but it's a little difficult logistically





...Malcolm is hailed as King and the State is made whole again.


But soft!--we have skipped over another death in Act V.  Before encountering Macduff, Macbeth runs into Young Siward, the son of the English commander who is helping out Malcolm.  Young Siward brandishes his weapon and challenges the Thane and is promptly killed by him, uttering the classic put down "Thou wast borne of woman."  This death is referenced later in the scene just before Macduff enters--Ross* tells Siward of his son's death, Siward mourns but at least his son died like a soldier, and so forth.  But our production added something--they dragged in a bound-and gagged Seyton, Macbeth's lieutenant, whom they'd captured near Young Siward's body (our production staged it so that Seyton carried off the body--the single most constant challenge of every Shakespearean tragedy is GETTING RID OF THE BODIES).  And Siward hauls off and stabs Seyton to death.  While Malcolm is standing right there!  My jaw literally fell open.  So the new regime executes bound prisoners of war?  Since we've established that Malcolm is morally superior to Macbeth, isn't this sort of...awkward?**


Obviously killing a bound POW is a violation of the laws of war--certainly for our culture and time, and for the '30s when our production is set.  And definitely for Shakespeare's time as well--Shakespeare's play Henry VI, Part III has a rather lurid incident in which Lord Clifford murders his prisoner the Earl of Rutland in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Wakefield as the boy is begging for his life.  


This was seen as a Bad Thing by Shakespearean audiences.***




But the whole idea of laws of war, of regulating, through code and social expectation, how and when and whom to kill in warfare, is a dynamic construct.  In the actual Macbeth's time, the 11th century, laws of war were very much in a time of transition--the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as well as Asser's Life of King Alfred are depressingly rife with descriptions of Anglo-Viking battles in which everyone on the losing side is killed.  



Prisoners, fleeing soldiers, soldiers who surrendered--everyone.   But customs of war were starting to emerge around this time--how and why this happened is still being debated but after the Norman Invasion in 1066, the bloodletting seemed to have subsided for a little while (if for no other reason than because everyone was DEAD who might've caused any trouble).  The emergence of chivalry as a professional and caste code also had something to do with this.


*I feel kind of bad for Ross--all he seems to do is inform people of important plot updates!  He tells Macbeth he's been made Thane of Cawdor, he tells Macduff his family is dunzo...he's like the Billy Kostecki of the Scottish Play!


Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
Savagely slaughter'd.
Oh, and Penny's knocked up.


**I mentioned this to the actor who played Malcolm and he said he always looked away during that moment.


***Shakespeare's source was Hall's Chronicle, which changed Rutland's age from the verified 17 to a boy of 12.