As Secure a Sleep

Bardseye is currently doing the Henry IV play series, which contains oddly persistent parallels with the events of our times. As always, we cast the major players of our era in Shakespearean roles, as follows:

Prince Hal (a youthful prince struggling to
do good but subject to temptation): America

Falstaff (a charming rogue who seeks to
mis-educate the Prince): Western Europe

(Falstaff's understudies: The UN and the New York Times)

Joining late? scroll down or use the archives from October, 06 onward.

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As Secure As Sleep

Hal: “Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?”

Fal: “Zounds, where thou wilt, lad, I’ll make one.
An I do not, call me a villain and baffle me.”

Now that the Prince has caught Falstaff out on his willingness to commit robbery at the next opportunity, that next opportunity arises. Poins, an associate of Falstaff’s, arrives to inform Falstaff of a group of pilgrims and traders, who by the nature of their vocations must carry ready money. Poins has cased out the group’s itinerary, and knows when best to waylay them (vizards means masks):

Poins: “But my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning,
by four o’clock early, at Gad’s Hill, there are pilgrims
going to Canterbury with rich offerings and traders
riding to London with fat purses. I have vizards for
you all; you have horses for yourselves….We may
do it as secure as sleep….”

The Prince hesitates, at first begging off (“Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.”), and then consenting (“Well then, once in my days I’ll be a madcap.”) and finally reverting to refusal (Well, come what will, I’ll tarry at home.”) The idea of warning Falstaff and Poins off of their plan never occurs to him.

Poins asks Falstaff to leave so that he can change the Prince’s mind. Alone with him, he suggests the Prince agree to participate, hide until the robbery is over, and then, masked, descend on Falstaff and rob him of his ill-gotten loot. To this the Prince readily agrees.

Poins: “…we will set forth before or after them and
appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our
pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon
the exploit themselves, which they shall have no
sooner achieved but we’ll set upon them.”

By hiding their horses, and changing their masks and clothes, Poins and the Prince expect to successfully rob Falstaff, to rob the thief. In this they resemble no institution so much as the New York Times, which has in recent months published leaked documents (that is, documents stolen from their legitimate purpose), revealing here a secret terrorist surveillance program that had tracked the evil monsters’ communications, and there a secret but otherwise perfectly legal terrorist bank transfer surveillance program. Most recently the Times published excerpts of the national intelligence estimate, which was leaked, criminally and treasonously, by Larry Hanauer, a democrat staff member of the Senate Intelligence Committee, in order to embarrass the administration in an election season.

Just as the Times reckons that the government will shy from prosecuting the paper for what in truth amounts to treason, Poins reckons that stealing from Falstaff will pose little difficulty:

Poins: “I know them to be as true-bred cowards as
ever turned back;…if he fights longer than he sees
reason, I’ll forwear arms…”.

The national intelligence estimate, by the way, is a sort of anthology of opinion among the myriad intelligence agencies whose hidebound bureaucracy has so consistently disappointed the nation, starting from its failure in the late 1970’s to contemplate the possibility that the Shah of Iran might fall, or in the late 1980’s that the Soviet Union might, or the existence of Sadman Insane’s nuclear program (discovered after sanctions were imposed following the first Gulf War), or the collapse of Sadman’s WMD program following imposition of a decade’s worth of those sanctions. This last intelligence failure led of course to the famous egg-on-America’s face that so delighted the world’s Falstaffs, even as America proceeded in Iraq to end an ongoing holocaust, liberate a nation, and at least attempt to set up the world’s first Arab democracy.

At least in Shakespeare, if not in today’s Times, the Prince, who steals from the thief, regrets his madcap action, and understands the call of his nation upon him:

Prince: “I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyoked humor of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted he may be more wondered at…”.

To be continued…..

Henry IV - 'Tis no Sin for a Man to Labor

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Bardseye is currently doing the Henry IV play series, which contains oddly persistent parallels with the events of our times. As always, we cast the major players of our era in Shakespearean roles, as follows:

Prince Hal (a youthful prince struggling
to do good but subject to temptation): America
(Prince Hal's understudy: All freedom-valuing democracies)

Falstaff (a charming rogue who seeks
to mis-educate the Prince): Western Europe
(Falstaff's understudy: The United Nations)

And if you’re joining late, scroll down to the first Henry post, or use the archives from October, 06 onward.

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'Tis No Sin For A Man To Labor...

Fal: “I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing
in England when thou art king? And resolution thus fubbed
as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic the law?
Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.”

Hal: “No, thou shalt.

Fal: “Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.”

To translate, Falstaff (that is, Old Europe), advises Hal (the U.S.) to tear down the gallows once he becomes king. And sure enough, Old Europe does indeed seek to eliminate capital punishment, even as it indicts American soldiers for war crimes and withholds consent to invade Iraq. Falstaff/Europe's honorable reason for withholding this consent? To conceal Old Europe's corrupt involvement in Saddam’s Oil For Food scheme, that would be discovered by the invasion. Falstaffian, larger-than-life comedy indeed.

Hal answers (“No, thou shalt”) that when he becomes king, he will command Falstaff himself to be the realm’s hangman. Falstaff is charmed.

Fal: “Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I,
if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked.
I must give over this life, and I will give it over. By the Lord,
an I do not I am a villain. I’ll be damned for never a king’s son
in Christendom.”

Here Falstaff (that is, Old Europe) says that before it knew Hal (that is, before it experienced democracy), it was little better than one of the wicked – a phrase used by the Puritans. Clearly Falstaff is speaking about Europe’s expansionist, hegemonic and colonial history, conducted for the most part under monarchical reigns. All those centuries of bloodletting between its borders, followed by further centuries of bloodletting beyond them. The gunboats up and down China’s rivers, the subduing of Africa, the cut-throat squabbling over the Americas.

The self-hatred that lies at the heart of modern European identity is palpable. When you know that you have sinned so much, too much, then for some it becomes time not for repentance, but to pray rather that eternal justice itself will not be brought to bear. To pray against prayer. In Bardseye's opinion, that’s the real reason Old Europe has lost its religion. Hal answers Falstaff’s false profession of faith with a falsity of his own:

Hal: “Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?”

Fal: “Zounds, where thou wilt, lad, I’ll make one. An I do not,
Call me a villain and baffle me.”

That is: “Where shall commit robbery, Falstaff?” “Anywhere you like. If I don’t join you, call be a villain.”

So much for the redemptive power of Old Europe’s conversion to democracy. Bureaucratic kleptocracy remains its true form of government, as Falstaff suggests. And Hal properly scolds him for it:

Hal” I see a good amendment of life in thee – from praying
to purse taking.”

Fal: “Why, Hal, ‘tis my vocation, Hal. ‘Tis no sin for a man
to labor in his vocation.”

To be continued….

Henry IV - Casting Today's Falstaff

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Earlier this year Bardseye did Hamlet - all of it, scene by scene (see archives for January ’06 – March ’06). Now, because of its oddly persistent parallels with the events of out times, we take on an unusual selection, the Henry IV series. (And if you’re joining late, scroll down toIn seeking for a present-day actor to cast as our Falstaff, the first Henry post, or use the archives from October, 06 onward).

In this next scene we are introduced to the character that lifts the Henry IV plays from dry history to sheer and brilliant comedy - that notorious, amoral, opportunistic and yet somehow charming vitalist Bill Clinton, whoops, Falstaff. Here Prince Hal tells Falstaff what he thinks of him:

Fal: “Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?”

Hal: “Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack,
and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon
benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand
that truly which thou wouldst truly now. What a devil
hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours
were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the
tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping houses,
and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-
colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be
so superfluous to demand the time of the day.”

Gee, Hal, tell us what you really think. But to return to the casting problem, actually former President Clinton, while similar in so many ways, fails ultimately as a Falstaff for one signal reason – Clinton has precisely no sense of humor, while Falstaff overflows with mirth. Here Falstaff asks Hal, when he becomes King, to adjust the laws so as to elevate the status of those who occupy Falstaff’s profession (Falstaff is a highway robber, if a bit too fat to perform this job competently):

Fal: “Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let
not us that are squires of the night’s body be called
thieves of the day’s beauty. Let us be Diana’s foresters,
gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon; and let
men say we be men of good government, being governed,
as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon,
under whose countenance we steal.”

This plea that under Hal’s reign thieves not be called thieves reads like an anthem for political correctness. “Let us not that are (for example) big-boned be called fat. Let us be (for another) Zionists, neo-cons, Israel’s amen chorus, but not Jews, and let men say that we of Sudan, Congo, north Korea and Iran be men of good government, approved members of the UN, after all, who are governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste jackbooted regimes, under whose countenances we steal.”

Throughout the Henry IV plays Falstaff’s role is as a sort of guide to Prince Hal, even if he guides the Prince toward an understanding of all the low and rough corners of the realm. In seeking for a present-day actor to case as our Falstaff, Bardseye finds two world players in particular who combine his Machiavellian self-interest and hypocrisy with utterly amoral joie de vivre in the face of human suffering. One is the United Nations, and the other is Old Europe. Both these entities share as well with Falstaff the desire to mis-educate the Prince. And Hal, the Prince, correspondingly, whom the UN/Old Europe/Falstaff so seeks to train in amorality would be the governments of the world’s responsible democracies, chief among them the US (but not only the US).

Fal: “I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing
in England when thou art king? And resolution thus fubbed
as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic the law?
Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.”

To be continued….

Henry IV - Our Era's Shakespeare Play

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Earlier this year Bardseye did Hamlet - all of it, scene by scene (see archives for January ’06 – March ’06). Now, because of its oddly persistent parallels with the events of out times, we take on an unusual selection, the Henry IV series. (And if you’re joining late, scroll down to the first Henry post, or use the archives from October, 06 onward).


The royal crown sat as uneasily on Henry IV’s head in 1400 as, in 2001, the presidential crown, disputed for five weeks following the election, rested on G.W. Bush’s. Though in Henry’s case, it was not a disputed election but the murder of Richard II – a murder in which Henry was himself complicit - that brought him to power. Henry expressed his guilt over his illegitimate accession at the close of Shakespeare's prequel to this play, Richard II:

Henry: “…though I did wish him dead
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labor,
…..
I’ll make a voyage to the Holy Land
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand…”.

Now, in the next installment of Shakespeare’s eight-play history series, Henry resolves to seek for atonement in a holy crusade to liberate Jerusalem from the Al Qaida of the day:

Henry: “As far as to the sepulcher of Christ –
Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engaged to fight –
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy,
Whose arms were molded in their mother’s womb
To chase these pagans in those holy fields
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.”

In other words, “Let’s roll!”

Those who oppose today’s war against Islam will conclude that Henry IV’s guilt-driven motivation parallels a personal motivation lurking behind G.W. Bush’s decision to topple Sadman Insane (“He tried to kill my dad!”) . Personally, Bardseye finds the interruption of a holocaust, whether done by Clinton in Bosnia or Bush in Iraq, to be a moving event, an advance in the very worth and quality of humanity, on a par with the rejection of human slavery achieved by modern societies in the 19th century. But Henry's pointing of a Western army at the heart of the Islamic world is a parallel to today worth watching as the play develops.

Beyond personal guilt, Henry IV did indeed have domestic reasons for his foreign quest – his proposed crusade was an attempt to knit England back together after the civil conflicts that had led to his accession. In truth, the civil wars continued to rage - just as the culture war within the US rages today, coloring the nation’s stance toward foreign adventure. You see, in the hallucinatory crucible of this midnight blog, it all ties together.

And if the reader is still skeptical of Bardseye's Glendower/Al Sadr parallel, there's this:

Westmorland: “A thousand of his people butchered –
Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,
Such beastly shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done as may not be
Without much shame retold or spoken of.”

Shakespeare has the Welsh women performing the most unspeakable of the depravities. Henry learns that revolts fester both among the Sunni in Scotland and the Shia (actually a rebel named Glendower) in Wales. Henry’s Rumsfeld in these actions is Harry Percy, nicknamed Hotspur. And while we're at it, let's meet all the Percys: Hotspur is joined by his dad Harry Percy (the Earl of Northumberland), Hotspur’s uncle (the Earl of Worcester), and Hotspur’s brother-in-law Edmund Mortimer (the Earl of March - even if it’s April, ha ha). At the close of the preceding play, the Percys collectively helped Henry IV into power, conspiring with him to depose the wonderfully self-pitying Richard II.

In this play, the Percys are not exactly happy campers, since their own Mortimer has an arguably stronger claim to the throne than Henry does. Moreover, Mortimer has just been taken prisoner by Al Sadr, I mean Glendower, in Wales:

Westmorland: “But yesternight, when all athwart there came
A post from Wales loaden with heavy news,
Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower
Was by the rude hand of that Welshman taken,…”.

So, to recap, we have rebels slaughtering the soldiers of nation-building, peacekeeping dominant foreign power, and mutilating their bodies. Shades of the four US soldiers whose bodies were hung over a bridge by Muqtada al Sadr’s men, to mention only one of hundreds of radical Islam’s savage depradations. That would be the same al Sadr who remains breathing and even holds some political power in the new Iraq. Quite a message to be sending to other tyrants both in the region and elsewhere. We also have hostage-taking though not yet Daniel Pearl-style beheading of hostages. We’ll have to see how Mortimer is treated by Glendower, and how Glendower, is treated by Henry.

Now then, as the play opens, the Percys have come to Henry to see their Mortimer ransomed. The King, for his part, is irritated to learn that Hotspur refuses to hand over prisoners he has himself taken during the recent hostilities.

King: “….What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy’s pride? The prisoners
Which he in this adventure hath surprised
To his own use he keeps…”.

The implicit bargain is that if the King wishes to have Hotspur obediently tender his prisoners, the King must ransom the Percy family’s Mortimer from the Welsh al Sadr Glendower. Henry is keenly aware that a ransomed Mortimer would return to England as a potential rival for the throne. A parallel to today would perhaps arise if President Bush were to retreat from Iraq, implicitly endorsing democratic party objections and possibly ushering in a Hillary Clinton, or other anti-war administration. (Question: in 1943, what would the result have been of ushering in, even assuming there had been such a thing at the time, an anti-war administration?).

To be continued….