The National Portrait Gallery – My Early Modern Must-Sees

The iconic National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, London. The National Portrait Gallery is just around the corner.

Even though the year is pressing on (where did January go?!) and the snowdrops are starting to appear, spring and sunshine still seems like a lifetime away. If, like me, you are in search of some indoors activity to get away from the rain and the chill (yes, I think that 12 degrees is still pretty chilly!), I seriously recommend the National Portrait Gallery in London. Learn little snippets about personalities past and presents, while getting lost in their world through the exquisite detail conveyed onto canvas by the most talented of painters and artists. It is the perfect combination of educational and restful. For more information about the gallery, its location and opening times etc., please see their website.

The gallery is of course large, with rooms or wings for each period/century, and if you have limited time it is impossible to see everything. I have learnt that from many visits there! Even though I love the early modern period, I always want to see portraits from the other eras as well. With this in mind, I have compiled a list of Early Modern ‘must-sees’: portraits that you cannot miss. My personal favourites, they raise a variety of questions about early modern England, and are a fascinating insight into the times.

So, without further ado…

Sir Henry Unton, by an Unknown Artist. Room Number 2 – This is the most intriguing portrait in the entire gallery, in my opinion. Not just a conventional portrait but also a biography, the amount of detail can keep you occupied for quite a while. Make sure to bring your magnifying glass to get the most out of this portrait.

The Miniature Case, Assorted Artists. Room Number 5 – A beautiful collection of tiny portraits of key figures in the Stuart world. Look out for a square-framed portrait of a rather unobtrusive and worried Charles I.

Sir Henry Lee, by Anthonis Mor. Room Number 2 – Chosen for the fact that this is such an impressive painting. It looks as though it could almost be a photograph.

Henry Ireton, attr. Richard Walker. Room Number 5 – One of the generals in the Parliamentary Army during the Civil Wars, this portrait is wonderfully executed and is interesting for the military detail in the background.

King James I of England and VI of Scotland, by Daniel Mytens. Room Number 4 – How weary poor James looks in this portrait. Again, like the painting of Sir Henry Lee, this portrait is eerily emotive of a real person with whom we can connect.

John Donne, by an Unknown Artist. Room Number 4 – I love the somewhat haughty Donne in this portrait. Here is the young man who wrote all those love poems before his religious conversion.

Sir Francis Walshingham, by John de Critz the Elder. Room Number 2 – Elizabeth I’s secretary, but also infamous spymaster. It is a surreal experience to lock eyes with the man who foiled so many assassination attempts, without whom the sixteenth century (and everything that followed!) could have looked very different.

Sir Anthony van Dyck, by Sir Anthony van Dyck. Room Number 6 – I love to see the man behind some of the most famous portraits of the age!

King Charles I, by Daniel Mytens. Room Number 5 – Charles I is one of my favourite monarchs (controversial choice, I know!), so he had to get a mention here. He is surrounded by the classic signs of royal opulence for which he was so criticised.

Venetia, Lady Digby, by Sir Anthony van Dyck. Room Number 5 – A very overstated portrait, having a go at finding all the hidden symbols is good fun.

BONUS: Shakespeare and the Plantagenets. Room Number 3 – This is a small display of Tudor portraits of the Plantagenets, exploring their place in the popular cultural imagination. Definitely worth a look. Open until 1st December 2019.

 

National Theatre’s Macbeth (2019): Review

If any adaptation of Shakespeare brings the work of the Bard into the 21st century, this has to be it. Set in what feels like a post-apocalyptic world in which thanes wield machetes, wear parkas and celebrate their victories to house music, this performance is brave, shocking, and edgy in the extreme, while still capturing an unmistakably Shakespearean atmosphere.

We open with the witches – after a mandatory slaughter on the battlefield, of course – but instead of withered old hags in black, these “weird sisters” emerged in pale clothing, covered with what appear to be plastic rain macs which catch the dull spotlights in an eerie manner. At first one might expect this to be jarring, but I acclimatised rather more quickly than I expected (I am usually a self-confessed ‘purist/traditionalist’ when it comes to Shakespeare, I must admit) and found this interpretation of the witches to be one of the most startling that I have seen. At once childlike and haunting, the stunning effect of the echo to each of their voices added a pervasive presence to the show’s most-recognised characters, despite the fact that the witches do not get much stage time. So, from the very start this production challenged expectations, both drawing us into turbulent Scotland and appalling us with its weirdness and barbarity.

A simple and yet striking set design allowed for a great variety of scenes to be staged with a slightly different setting for each, yet without bombarding the audience with too much at which to look. It really did seem like a country at war, furnished with grubby fold-up chairs and office blinds. Although such minimalism allowed the plot to take centre stage, it did at times strike me as a little too stark, though doubtless effective in its own way.

Of course, both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth were played most brilliantly. The tearful admonition delivered by Lady Macbeth (Kirsty Besterman), recalling the child which she had nursed but would gladly have killed, lent a humanity to the otherwise alarmingly blinkered character, who is often portrayed with little hint of emotion. Such a performance lent some much-needed depth and softness to this classic, powerful aggressor. Likewise, Michael Nardone’s Macbeth was unlike any I have encountered in any other performance. What really struck me was the extreme distress with which Nardone endowed Macbeth after he had killed Duncan, which makes sense in the context of the play and yet I have not seen acted in such a way before. Macbeth spends a great deal of time soliloquising – to kill or not to kill, that is the question – and so, in light of this, Nardone’s immediately remorseful Thane of Cawdor, debilitated by his regret and blood-stained hands, cleverly showed more accurate character development than some other Macbeths who seem perfectly comfortable as killers from the outset. Nardone’s entrancing performance thus also set the tone for the remainder of the play, and the hauntings of Macbeth that follow.

A mention must also be made to Deka Walmsley as the Porter, whose performance was also truly striking, although in a supporting role. The Porter provides some much-needed light relief after the first brutal murder, and Walmsley played this marvellously. Despite the nature of Shakespearean comic roles as often being almost akin to caricatures, Walmsley did not ‘over-do it’ and artfully blended such unmistakable comedy with a thread of realism throughout, which was in keeping with the gritty and un-apologetically realistic – think beheadings, drunken parties, and even a little vomiting – nature of the rest of the production.

The production did not hinge on the blood and the bawdiness, however. Happily true to Shakespeare’s writing without the strange and unexplained interpretations that sometimes spring from modern adaptations – well, I can think of one, but I will pass that by – the show combined the best of both in a recognisable interpretation of the script and novel sets and costumes to satisfy both those committed to traditional Shakespeare and those excited by fresh re-imaginings of the Bard’s work.  Though perhaps leaning a little more towards the former on the fresh-traditional spectrum, even as someone who usually prefers traditional productions I was not disappointed. Not for the faint-hearted (or those of you with weak stomachs), this was one of the most provoking, daring productions of Macbeth that I have seen in a long time. It may not have changed my preference for traditional staging, but the National Theatre’s production allowed me to see Macbeth in a new way, and demonstrates the plethora of possibilities available for Shakespearean drama, if you have the creativity (and the guts – in both senses of the word).

 

If you want to catch this show (and I think you should), it is currently on tour. A link to the National Theatre’s website, which details the tour dates and venues, can be found here.

Dear John

Engraving of John Milton, representing the poet towards the end of his life

Perhaps ‘dear John’ is not the way that most people would address John Milton. How could someone who wrote such a drawn-out, dry and heavy piece as Paradise Lost be anything other than a boring, stuffy old man, right? Of course, I would say, wrong. John Milton is one of my dearest poets, not only of the 17th century, but probably one of my most beloved of all poets. My adoration, however, will always be beaten by that of one of my university tutors who was a specialist in Milton. One of our seminars fell on his birthday, and I remember her looking up to the ceiling (or Heaven, if you will) and shouting, “Happy Birthday John!”. Though this might have taken us all aback at the time, I think I was lucky to be taught by someone who was so enthusiastic about a poet that often intimidates even the most ardent literary lovers.

So, why Milton?

Thoughtfulness

For me, Milton’s writing brings a great sense of calm. He has a way of writing that encourages thought about the simplest of topics, which, in the hectic world of next-day deliveries, city sirens, and the barrage of information on the internet, I think is no bad thing. Just look at how he isolates line 16 (the last quoted here) of ‘At a Solemn Music’:

And the Cherubick host in thousand quires
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,
With those just spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns devout and holy Psalms
Singing everlastingly;

By having just two words on a line, we too are encouraged to hear the eternal, blissful music, which seems to linger in our ear as the line lingers with the pause of the semicolon at the end. Such skilled penmanship in the structure of the poem is typical of Milton.

Drama!

As well as being very insightful, Milton is also good if you want some plain drama. Forget Eastenders. Take Book VI of Paradise Lost, for example, which describes the battle between the Archangels and Satan’s followers. There are scenes of battle, swirling mists, flaming arrows and a lot of fierce back-chat. A small section to whet your appetite:

[…] now storming furie rose,
And clamour such as heard in Heav’n till now
Was never, Arms on Armour clashing bray’d
Horrible discord, and the madding Wheeles [sic]
Of brazen Chariots rag’d; dire was the noise
Of conflict; over head the dismal hiss
Of fiery Darts in flaming volies [sic] flew,
And flying vaulted either Host with fire.

He’s Relatable

Milton, relatable? Really?

Absolutely!

Although he writes about things that may seem distant to us, like Oliver Cromwell’s religious policy, or Biblical narratives, he also writes about things that are recognisable to us all. From prematurely lamenting that he is growing old too fast, as in ‘On His Being Arrived at the Age of Twenty-Three’ (let’s admit it, we’ve all been there), to grieving his wife in Sonnet 23, Milton encapsulates all of life’s tempests, both comical and critical, in his poetry. Often there is something utterly emotional about his work, especially in Sonnet 19, where he mourns the loss of his sight. By reading Milton’s poetry it feels as though there is a human behind the words, not just a disembodied voice narrating events that we do not understand.

So, where to start?

Below are a few recommendations of where to get started with Milton. I have chosen some of the poems for their shorter length, others for their style, but some just because I love them and think that they show Milton at his best! I hope you enjoy exploring his work. I would love to hear about any of Milton’s poems that you have come across!

‘On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity’ – a nice familiar subject matter!

Paradise Lost Book VI – if this seems too much, start with lines 189-261 (a.k.a the most intense bit!)

Sonnet 19 – ‘When I consider how my light is spent’

Sonnet 23 – ‘Methought I saw my late espoused saint’

If you are feeling a little more brave, Comus is a fantastic place to build your stamina with Milton.

 

My Top 5… Motivational Quotations by Shakespeare

So, new year, new start. Whatever you are doing, whether you are starting a new job, trying to ditch some old habits or pick up new ones, or just need a push through the bleak winter days, please enjoy some gentle encouragement from Shakespeare.

1. “Art thou affear’d to be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour, as thou art in desire?” Macbeth, Act I, Scene vii. Although admittedly the driving words of an over-ambitious Lady Macbeth, the sentiment can be applied to many good deeds as well! Have the courage to put your dreams into action.
2. “I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull, in every one of these, no man is free.” The Winter’s Tale, Act I, Scene ii. Remember, no one is perfect! Forgive yourself for your imperfections.
3. “Wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss but cheerily seek how to redress their harms” Henry VI Part III, Act V, Scene iv. Again spoken by a character that is without doubt a ‘stirrer’ a little like Lady Macbeth, nevertheless this reminder of fortitude has its charms.
4. “We know what we are, but not what we may be.” Hamlet, Act IV, Scene v. This time of year can be characterised by worry about what the next twelve months will bring, and a feeling that they must be better than the last, but try to let go of the worry, for we can never know our future.
5. “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene ii. And to finish, a glorious misquote from Julius Caesar. Although the actual line reads, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings”, it is commonly altered to the quotation above to give a more general message of encouragement, self-determinism, and hope.

Revival Plan

Happy New Year all! For various reasons I have been very absent from my blog, rather shamefully I must admit. I have a longer-term plan for this blog now, and I hope that I will be able to find time outside of my other commitments to update it properly and keep sharing the wonders of Shakespeare as I initially intended.

Posting around twice a month is my current aim, if I can restrict my ramblings to that many. So, without further ado, here is my plan for January:

1. My top 5… motivational quotations from Shakespeare (we all need a bit of a lift come January, and who better to provide it than the bard?!)
2. In defence of Milton (let’s face it, sometimes this unparalleled poet has a formidable reputation!)

My Top Five Quotations from John Donne

Portrait of John Donne, painted later in his life, by Isaac Oliver. Image from wikicommons.

John Donne is a fascinating writer, and the variety of his works reflect a changing man. His early career seems focused on erotic poetry and the carpe diem lifestyle, whereas later he seems to turn away from all this and becomes the writer of the Divine Poems, more reflecting the man who was Dean of St Paul’s than the notorious womanizer of his youth. I was lucky to pick up a copy of his complete works in a charity bookshop recently, and now have the whole Donne canon with which to play here!

1) “Arise, arise from death, you numberless infinities of soules, and to your scattered bodies go, all whom the flood did, and fire shall o’erthrow, all whom warre, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, despaire, law, chance, hath slaine, and you whose eyes, shall behold God, and never taste death’s woe”. From ‘Holy Sonnet VII’. I think it is the use of the commanding voice that I find so compelling here: Donne is sure of the salvation promised by God, and knows that there shall be a resurrection of bodies. His conviction is inspiring, and it being punctuated by the short-syllabled examples of all the things that slay the body makes this passage really snappy and engaging, and we see the hopeful resurrection before our very eyes.

2) “Thou thyself art thine own bait: that fish, that is not catch’d thereby, alas, is wiser far than I”. From ‘The Bait’. This is from one of Donne’s more jovial poems, which I love because, as can be seen from this extract, it is all about a man being entranced by a woman, or at least a beautiful subject. In these final few lines, Donne inverts the usual motif of the woman as being the prey to man the hunter, and here instead it is the man who is unwittingly hunted by the woman, provoking a gender dynamic that would have been quirky in the seventeenth century.

3) “Busy old fool, unruly sun, why dost thou thus, through windows, and through curtains call on us?” From ‘The Sun Rising’. Here we have a fantastic opening to what can be called an aubade, which is a poem about lovers parting with the coming of the dawn. Due to his anger at having to separate from his love, Donne’s speaker here chides the sun for waking them through the curtains – a sentiment which I am sure many people can relate to (the sun’s waking them at least!). I love Donne’s cheeky, almost insolent tone here, and how it is so formal, in a way, that it is almost comedic as well as critical.

4) “A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, will he not let’us alone, and think that there a loving couple lies, who thought that this device might be some way to make their souls, at the last busy day, meet at this grave”. From ‘The Relic’. Though it may seem a bit (well, very!) grim to us in the twenty-first century, I find this poem incredibly endearing, in its own way. The hair of which Donne speaks is that of his earthly lover, wrapped around his dry bones in the grave in the hope that it would mean his lover’s soul could meet him on Judgement Day – the ‘last busy day’. In an era when spirituality was of heightened importance, this, I think, demonstrates the tendency of human nature to focus on and cling on to the material, and also seems to show a connection between body and soul that challenges Cartesian duality. Heartbreakingly, the ‘he’ in the second clause, is a man who is digging up the speaker’s grave in order to put another body inside as well, as was a common practice due to high death rates and shortage of space for graves. In this extract we see the sanctity of love and the grave being ripped apart, and overall speaks of the lack of control after death, as the speaker laments so pleadingly.

5) “Ride ten thousand days and nights,’till age snow white hairs on thee, thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me, all strange wonders that befell thee, and swear, no where, lives a woman true, and fair”. From ‘Song:Go and catch a falling star’. As if the title of this poem did not have a romantic enough title, this extract confirms it. The voice of a jaded lover, this poem brings together ideas of all things fantastical, like mermaids and old wives’ tales, encapsulated in these lines by the sudden ageing and snow-white hair, both of which have fairy-tale like qualities. Although his criticism of womankind here is not ideal, there is a magical and almost whimsical tone to this poem, allowing for the belief in mystical beings and occurrences and drawing us away from our reality.

Off to Penshurst: My Day at Philip Sidney’s Family Manor

Penshurst Place, in Kent, England

Me being me, a trip to a house of historical significance was bound to happen sometime or another. If it has a moat, battlements, suits or armour, or formal gardens, I am there in a twinkling. Or, as it happened yesterday, not so much of a twinkling, as my sister (of Girl, Reading) and I endured a lengthy drive to reach the gorgeous Penshurst Place. We were biting our nails as we drove through thick fog and rain, and felt pity for the caravans we passed on their way to a wet English holiday. However, fate was kind, and we arrived at Penshurst to be greeted by bright sunshine, and the few clouds there were had scudded away before long.

The Archer Sundial, which celebrates the centenary of the birth of The Right Honourable William 1st Viscount De L’Isle. A quotation from Philip Sidney’s ‘The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia’ is present on its plaque.

I could very much feel the history of the place as soon as we were within the grounds, which were far more extensive than they appeared from the outside; a labyrinth of little gardens each hiding their own surprises. As cheesy as it sounds, I could just imagine Elizabethan ladies wandering around the gardens in their gowns, and I was excited to be literally walking in the footsteps of Ben Jonson, Philip Sidney, and King James I, among others (my life is full of simple pleasures, as you can tell!). Being the home of the Sidney family even to this day, the house and grounds were filled with snippets of Sidney’s poetry, which featured on memorials to members of the De L’Isle family who resided at Penshurst. There was a real sense of the legacy of this great poet being still an integral part of the family and Penshurst Place itself, something that I very much applaud as someone who never gets tired of stressing the importance of valuing history and literature.

It was definitely a blessing to see the grounds in summer and on a glorious day: the flowers were buzzing with bees, and the honeysuckle and roses smelt fantastic, all abloom with vivacity and lustre. There was also a magnificent fountain, simple and yet elegant, which made for a lovely spot to sit and contemplate life and the universe. The house itself majestically yet unobtrusively presided over the gardens, now and then disappearing behind a hedge, sometimes looming up above the foliage.

As much as I adored the gardens, the house was my favourite part of the day. The setting for the BBC’s recent adaptation of ‘Wolf Hall’, it was wonderful to see a historical building still so utilised and well-maintained. From its 14th Century beginnings it boasted a diverse and rich history (I am not really talking about the details of its history here, but if you are interested then a comprehensive timeline can be found on the Penshurst Place website). My favourite parts were of course the 16th and 17th century pieces, including some stunning portraits, and a gigantic copy of Van Dyck’s portrait of Charles I on horseback, which really takes your breath away when you enter the room. The whole house was not short of portraiture, and your whole visit is observed by both family members, royalty, and the ancient aristocracy as you meander past their painted faces leaning down from the walls. This is one of those historic

Obligatory photographic evidence of reading ‘To Penshurst’, albeit on a crumpled piece of paper, with the house in the background.

palaces that really lets you engage with the people that made and shaped it, and there are little details from their lives mentioned here, there, and everywhere, from shaving mirrors to works of cross-stitching. And there was a whole room filled with suits of armour. Enough said. Then, of course, no day would be complete without a bit of literary nerding-out, so I am delighted to say that the visit to the house culminated in reading Ben Jonson’s ‘To Penshurst’, his poem written in praise of the estate and the Sidney family, in the garden adjacent to the house.

If you do ever have the time to visit Penshurst Place, I would highly recommend it. The gardens and the house compliment each other perfectly, and are both highly accessible. The house’s exhibitions, so to speak, are laid out so that you can really get a close look at the paintings and furniture and ornaments, all of which are labelled on a nifty sheet that you pick up as you enter each room, so that nothing can pass you by unnoticed. There are also lovely

The Church of St. John the Baptist, in Penshurst village.

guides in some of the rooms, who are on hand to answer any questions you may have with spectacular enthusiasm. Adjacent to the house is a quaint little village as well, with a gorgeous church steeped in just as much history as Penshurst Place itself. To sum up in the mellifluous words of Ben Jonson, which really capture the sense of Penshurst as a home and place of life that I believe can still be felt there today: “Now, Penshurst, they that will proportion thee with other edifices, when they see those proud, ambitious heaps, and nothing else, may say their lords have built, but thy lord dwells”.

The Second-Best Bed

Time for a more well-known fact now, but one that is still a favourite of mine:

In his will, Shakespeare left his wife the second-best bed.

Now, this might sound like a snub, a secret hint that he didn’t really like his wife very much, but this is not the case. The best bed, of course, was reserved for guests, to make them as comfortable as possible. The second-best bed was therefore the one that Shakespeare and his wife would have slept in themselves, and so his leaving it for her actually is a lot more endearing than you might think.

Don’t Judge a Play By Its Title

The Plays of William Shakespeare, by Sir John Gilbert, circa 1849. Image from wikicommons. This superb painting demonstrates the exciting vivacity of Shakespeare’s plays.

I am sure that everyone has heard the old phrase “don’t judge a book by its cover”. As often as I hear it I must admit that I still disobey it. I would suggest that a similar premise can be applied to some of Shakespeare’s plays, which, appearing in many editions and with many covers, draw us in with their titles. Some titles definitely will draw us in more than others: big names like Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet, or ‘exciting’ titles like The Tempest will leap from the shelves; lesser-known and harder-to-comprehend titles will push us away as we are browsing the library. It is not a matter of making us want to keep reading, but even making us start reading in the first place. So I am here to defend the plays whose titles do not exactly lead them to success, even though the work is of course fantastic (once more my unmitigated bias shines through!).

Titus Andronicus. Now, when I first heard of this play many years ago my first thought was ‘what does that even mean?’, and so swiftly and surely I moved on and picked up something more welcoming instead. To say that I enjoyed the play doesn’t quite describe how I felt reading it – it includes several murders, betrayals, dismemberings and a rape, and so I definitely did not enjoy it in the usual sense of the word. However, it was not as dry and political as the title suggests, and was full of fast-paced action, even if that action was distressing at times. Personally, as well, I feel that it includes some of the most beautiful poetry I have ever come across, and that Shakespeare uses it to take the edge off the traumatic events. When a character (I will not say which one – spoilers!) is killed and thrown in a ditch, the one who finds them says “what subtle hole is this, whose mouth is covered with rude-growing briers, upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood as fresh as morning dew distilled on flowers?” The jarring image of the hungry hole eating up the corpse set against the idyllic image of morning dew sums up the perplexing and emotionally challenging nature of this play, seeing it live up to a diversity and linguistic level that would not be expected from seeing the dry title.

As You Like It. I would say that As You Like It is a confusing title even after you have read the play, and is seemingly nondescript enough to put people off – not because of a seemingly dry subject matter, just because of an unclear subject matter. Personally, I am more a fan of tragedy than comedy, but As You Like It kept me engaged for far longer than many comedies manage to. Firstly, it features Touchstone, the court jester who follows Rosalind and Celia to banishment in the Forest of Arden. I love the fools in Shakespeare, just because they are anything but foolish, cutting through assumptions about class hierarchy and making fun of dislikeable characters with witty puns and quick jibes. To add to the jollity, there is also the classic Shakespearean trope of characters disguising themselves, which inevitably leads to confusion and heartache. Rosalind disguises herself as Ganymede (the name of a figure from Greek mythology, whose story can be found here. Shakespeare’s choosing to name Rosalind’s disguised self after this much-sought-after lover is a fascinating decision), and attracts the attention of the shepherdess Phoebe, whom she has to ward off in order to preserve her love for Orlando, son of the court. A bit like A Midsummer Night’s Dream in many respects, all run off to the woods by force in or voluntary exile, to be met with confusion and misunderstandings, and providing us with a good deal of entertainment on the way! So, even though the title may not clearly spell out the play, if you want wrestlers, a series of love-lessons, and numerous marriages (officiated by Hymen no less), then As You Like It is worth a punt.

Cymbeline. Of course I would say that Cymbeline is one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, full of intrigue and double-crossing and lies, and of course a mistaken identity or two. Cymbeline himself is named after a king of ancient Britain, which explains the unusual name. This play, though, is not confined to one time period, and confusingly (but energetically) moves between primitive Britain, the time of the Roman invasion, and Renaissance Italy, drawing together a wonderfully diverse set of circumstances that make for a really entertaining read, despite the stand-offish title. From an academic point of view as well, this is wonderfully enjoyable. From my classes this year I learnt that this play is sometimes thought to amalgamate Shakespeare’s previous works, almost as a kind of retrospective glance over his life’s achievements. The Queen uses similar rhetoric to that seen in John of Gaunt’s speech in Richard II, and there are illusions to plays like Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the plot as well. As you read it is a great challenge to see how many you can spot (though perhaps not on the first reading, as the plot has many strands that need to be kept track of!). That is why Cymbeline‘s title doesn’t do it justice – in naming it after a single character it gives the impression that this is a simple, one-plot play that focuses on only Cymbeline, when in reality it contains so much more than that. A trustworthy king corrupted, separated lovers, banished princes, and a huge battle all go towards making up this cleverly crafted piece of writing, and something that diverse and exciting cannot be boring! Besides, it features Jupiter, king of the Roman gods, descending on an eagle, and what is not to love about that?

Armada: 12 Days to Save England – Review

The painting known as The Armada Portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, circa 1588. In the top left-hand corner you can see the victorious English Navy, and in the top right you can see the wreckage of the defeated Armada. Image from wikicommons.

From dramatic beginnings to a startling patriotic finale, the recent BBC series ‘Armada: 12 Days to Save England’ studies the Spanish Armada of 1588 in ways most people will never have experienced before. I for one was thoroughly misguided about the nature of the Armada: at school, even at A Level, we had always been told ‘the Armada sailed against Protestant England but ran into some difficulties in the North Sea and went back to Spain’, which, I think, could possibly be the understatement of the century. This series illuminates the battles, logistics, and military resources of each fleet, the Armada and the English Navy, and sells itself as “the real story of the Spanish Armada”.

At first I was not 100% sure that I was interested in seeing Dan Snow sailing around in the quintessential red coat following the path of the Armada, but I persevered and am glad that I did. At the start of the first programme it was made to seem as though Dan Snow’s voyage would be the centre focus of the series, but it was in fact rather inconspicuous, and does help with a sense of geography – when he mentions the exposed area of sea at Calais where the Armada rested, we can really see how exposed it actually is, more than could ever be gleaned from a map. I cannot be too critical about Dan Snow, as his vivacity really brought the history to life (if you will excuse the cliché) and made it engaging with suitable dramatic pauses, which was important due to the advanced depth of historical material being transmitted here. The presenting straight to camera was intermingled with a variety of historians discussing the historical issues and looking at documents, and a dramatisation of both Philip II (of Spain’s) court and that of Elizabeth I, so this prevented the sailing from taking over the programme, and made sure that it was about the history.

In the Radio Times for this week there is a rather unfair comment made about the dramatisations, saying that “the unnecessary dramatic reconstructions, with Anita Dobson as Elizabeth I, can’t bring Dan down”. I feel that this point is in fact misguided – Anita Dobson was spectacular as Elizabeth, as was Philip Cox as Philip II – as the reconstructions really allowed you to grasp who was who in a plot that involved a lot of names and different figures. It was a credit to the series to include these reconstructions, and they introduced new people gradually so it was easy to not only clearly see but remember which person fitted where in the events, and therefore be able to concentrate on the unfolding of the path of the Armada, rather than getting left behind while you try to remember who on earth the Duke of Medina Sidonia was. Being able to put a name to a face can only be beneficial. As well as this, a lot of time and effort had clearly been spent on costumes and setting, so this was a most advanced and wondrous reconstruction, and, importantly, it was all based on research. Not only this, but it mirrored the series’ effort to portray these figures as human beings – sometimes history can seem so far away that it is almost as if it is fictional. Through these dramatisations we don’t just have a name on a page, but a real set of characters: Phillip II obsessively micromanaging his affairs; Francis Drake the pertinacious pirate; and Elizabeth I, the aging woman in a world run by men, desperate to look young again.

I loved the diversity of the series. Not only did it have the mix of reconstructions, presenting, and historians as I have said, but it also showcased various documents, a war table, and the world’s leading expert on Phillip II, Professor Geoffrey Parker. That this series focused on both Spain and England was fantastic, and it included not only the famous Tilbury Speech but also recently unearthed documents – correspondence between the Spanish commanders – which Professor Parker explains beautifully and with so much enthusiasm. I loved the presentation of the war table by Dr Sam Willis and Professor Saul David, one representing Spain and the other England, giving each other ‘smack-talk’ and bigging their navy up. Apart from being light relief, it also allowed a bird’s-eye-view representation of how the two fleets progressed through the sea over the twelve day period. Not only this, but the series included trips to the Royal Armouries and comments from Nick Hall, the Keeper of Artillery at the museum there, and canon demonstrations.

As much as I have raved about the structure of the series so far, I feel that the tracking of the Armada day by day did not on the whole work as a concept in practice. The series set itself up as tracking the progress of the Armada for the twelve days before its defeat, commentating on a day at a time. Invariably though a lot of each ‘day’, especially at first, was spent recalling the history that had led to the Armada setting sail, so cannot strictly be said to be taking it as a blow by blow account. Sometimes this did work, such as on days of battle where there was more to comment about, but on days where relatively little happened it felt like an attempt to pad things out, and so it became unclear as to what was actually happening on that day and what was merely retrospect and context. I understand that history cannot just be looked at in a linear way, but this middle-ground that the series found itself on was at times confusing. This did mean as well that often, especially as the series progressed, it became increasingly repetitive. I hate to admit that I found myself drifting off for the first half of the third and final episode, because I had heard it all before, but it was being presented as though it had never been mentioned. I suppose this could be said to work in the series’ favour, as it assumes no prior knowledge of the Armada, and takes you from novice to relative expert, so to speak, in a matter of hours. This is the most important thing for programmes like this – it is both highly academic in places and accessible.

The series is still on BBC iPlayer for about two weeks if you want to give it a watch, which I would highly recommend despite my reticence in some places. I would say that it is a case of holding on through the repetitive bits and focusing on what you find interests you – the series considers Elizabeth’s power-dressing, military strategy, the Spain vs. England issue, medical history, and all sorts, so you really can get out of the series what you choose. If you are interested in the Armada there is a fab little section on the BBC website which gives a brief but detailed account of various aspects of the event.