- Alexander Hamilton
"There is a certain enthusiasm in liberty, that makes human nature rise above itself, in acts of bravery and heroism." - Alexander Hamilton
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Today Queen Elizabeth II becomes the longest serving British monarch in history, having inherited the crown from her father some sixty three years and seven months ago. She was twenty five when she became queen, and is now eighty nine. Previously, the longest reigning monarch had been Queen Victoria, but now Elizabeth has dethroned her... figuratively speaking, of course. I suppose in a way, having a king or queen in this day and age seems a bit odd- sort of a holdover from a bygone era. As a Canadian, a member of the Commonwealth, Elizabeth is my queen, though that doesn't actually mean very much in practical terms. Her image is on our money, of course: the twenty dollar bill and all of the coins. But as far as actual political influence is concerned, the Queen has none, being more of a figurehead. We are a constitutional monarchy, that's true, but we're also- and this is where the actual power is- a parliamentary democracy. The role of the Queen or, more often, her representative, the Governor General of Canada, tends to be mainly ceremonial. My grandmother adored Queen Elizabeth; for as long as I can remember, she had a picture from the 1953 coronation hanging on her wall, carefully preserved so many years later. She also had a commemorative cup and saucer from the event, cracked or chipped in a couple spots, but carefully mended. This wasn't unusual for the time period... back in the day, it was considered quite natural to hang a picture of the king or queen in the house. I don't fancy it happens much these days, though. Why is this? Well, to begin with, times have changed and most people, no longer only a generation or two removed from living in the British Isles, lack that feeling of deep connection or affection for England. Also, at the time of Elizabeth's coronation, the Royal Family had accrued a considerable amount of goodwill and admiration for steadfastly refusing to leave London during WWII, even when Buckingham Palace was bombed. Elizabeth herself was admired for having pluckily driven an ambulance during the Blitz. I'm not sure that any of the current crop of royals have earned, or deserve, that level of admiration. Indeed, her children- and their respective spouses- nearly brought down the monarchy with their tawdry, scandal-sheet behaviour and tabloid tattling. Prince William and family seem to be rehabilitating the tarnished Windsor image, but time will tell. I personally rather like having the monarchy- not that I want it to have any actual power... I just like the sense of continuity and history that it provides. Admittedly, I'm an Anglophile and history buff, and for me, the monarchy is a connection to the long and fascinating story of England's past. The first time I traveled to Britain, I went to all the historical sites- Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, Hampton Court Palace, the Tower of London, St Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, etc, etc... everywhere you turn in Britain, you trip over a historical site (literally, in some cases, ie. Hadrian's Wall). What I find so interesting about all these places is the sense of great age and timelessness they leave you with. I remember staring at King Edward's chair (sans the Stone of Scone, of course) and thinking, every king and queen of England since 1308 has sat down on that throne. And that left me in awe. I think that what I like about Elizabeth- and find somewhat lacking in Windsors: TNG- is that she seems to "get" the importance of that history, and understand what she owes it. Her public duties have been carried out faithfully, with dignity and poise. She has kept her upper lip stiff, and her backbone straight, no matter what's going on. And she's done it for over 63 years. That's something to be commended. Elizabeth is spending today carrying out some official duties in Scotland; she has apparently requested that no fuss be made about the occasion. How delightfully typical of her. I think I'll close out with some of Queen Elizabeth's own words: "I have behind me not only the splendid traditions and the annals of more than a thousand years but the living strength and majesty of the Commonwealth and Empire; of societies old and new; of lands and races different in history and origins but all, by God's Will, united in spirit and in aim." Related Posts: The Lady Vanishes is a 1938 movie by Alfred Hitchcock. It's a mystery which stars Michael Redgrave and Margaret Lockwood and is based on the 1936 novel, The Wheel Spins by Ethyl Lina White. The film takes place in the fictional European country of Bandrika, where wealthy young Englishwoman Iris Henderson is staying with a couple of friends. The trip is sort of a last hurrah for her... when she returns to England, she is going to be married. It isn't a love match; her father wants a title in the family, and her noble fiance needs money. So, as one of her friends comments, she's marrying a "blue-blooded cheque chaser". While they are in the country, there is an avalanche which blocks the railroad tracks for a time, meaning that the inn the girls are staying at is overrun with stranded tourists. The guest rooms are all filled, and some of the tourists are forced to stay in the hotel workers' rooms. This includes a couple of Englishmen (Charters and Caldicott) who find, to their disgust, that not only have they been assigned a shared room- and bed- but that the room belongs to one of the maids, who keeps bursting in to get her belongings. Worse, they had been returning to England to attend a test cricket match, and are in danger of missing it. To their relief, they are informed that a train will be able to get through the following day, allowing all the travelers to get out of the country. It is briefly mentioned in passing that the government of Bandrika is in turmoil at the moment. Also staying at the inn is a frumpy little Englishwoman, who has the room next to Iris'. She has been working in Bandrika as a governess and music teacher. Her charges now grown, she is retiring and returning to England. She and Iris meet briefly in the hall on their way to their rooms. Iris goes to bed, while the little governess- Miss Froy- opens her window and happily listens to a man who is playing a guitar and singing on the street below. Both her listening pleasure and Iris' slumber are interrupted by loud thumping above above their heads, and they exit their rooms to find out what's going on. It turns out that another traveler- Gilbert- has been assigned the attic room, which he's sharing with some of the inn's staff. He's a musician who has been travelling about Europe collecting material for a book he's writing on folk music. Making the best of the crowded situation, he's playing music for the workers to dance to- hence the pounding. When the inn's owner, at Iris' insistence, asks him to stop, Gilbert cheerfully declines to do so. Fuming, Iris bribes the owner to throw Gilbert out and, as the noise ceases, she returns happily to bed. Miss Froy also returns to listening to the music beneath her window until it comes to an end. Little does she know, but the music has stopped because a shadowy figure has grabbed the folk singer and killed him. Meanwhile, Iris has gone back to sleep, but had forgotten to lock the door. In marches Gilbert with his suitcase, announcing that, since she had him tossed out of his room, he's going to stay in hers.He heads to the bathroom with his toothbrush. Iris angrily picks up the 'phone to call the owner, but Gilbert says that if she does, he'll tell everyone that she invited him, causing a scandal. But, he continues, she can easily be rid of him by having the owner reinstate his room. Iris does so with bad grace, and he cheerily leaves. The following morning, Iris' two friends, who are staying a while longer, see her off at the train. While they are chatting, Miss Froy who is also catching the train, stops and says hello. As she leaves to get her suitcase, Iris notices that she dropped her glasses and follows her to give them back. She finds Miss Froy just outside the station and leans over to hand her the spectacles. As she does so, a flower box falls/ is pushed from the window above and, missing Miss Froy, hits Iris on the head. She is woozy, and Miss Froy helps her into a compartment on the train, where she briefly loses consciousness. When Iris awakens, Miss Froy is applying a cold cloth to her head, and she finds they are sharing a compartment with a few people, one being a magician, and another the wife of a minister in the Bandrikan government. Miss Froy says that she'll probably feel better if she has some tea, so the two of them make their way to the dining car, on the way meeting a married couple, the Todhunters. Sitting down at a table in the dining car, the former governess orders tea, asking the waiter to prepare a herbal one that she has with her. Iris realizes that the two never really introduced themselves, and asks her travelling companion's name. As Miss Froy starts to tell her, another train passes theirs, and it's too noisy to hear, so she writes her name in the dust on the window. The two Englishmen, Charters and Caldicott, are sitting at a nearby table discussing cricket, and after her tea comes, Miss Froy interrupts them to borrow the sugar from their table. After tea, the two women return to their compartment where Iris, still not feeling well, falls asleep. When she wakes up, Miss Froy is not in her seat. Iris asks the others in the compartment where she went, but to her confusion, they say that there was no other English woman. Unable to understand why they would say that, and concerned by Miss Froy's continued absence, Iris leaves the compartment to go and look for her. As she searches the other cars, Iris runs into Gilbert, who is inclined to tease her about the previous night. However, seeing that she's unwell and troubled, his gentlemanly instincts kick in and he offers to help her search for the missing woman. Though never having seen Miss Froy himself, Gilbert accepts Iris' word that she exists, but it's hard to find any evidence that she does so. When questioned, the waiter who served them in the dining car insists that Iris ate alone. Charters and Caldicott say that they were too focused on their cricket discussion to notice who spoke to them. The Todhunters are reluctant to get involved, and deny having seen a middle aged Englishwoman dressed in tweed. But then the conductor arrives to say that they have found her friend. Iris rushes back to her compartment and finds another woman there, a Bandrikan, who is dressed exactly like Miss Froy had been- in a tweed skirt and blazer. The others in the compartment say that she has occupied that seat all along, and that they had merely been confused when Iris asked them where the other English woman was, since the lady isn't English. Iris angrily insists that Miss Froy had been there, but then Dr. Hartz, a brain surgeon who is traveling on the train, attracted by the commotion, drops by. He asks her some questions about the hit she took to the head before she got on the train, suggesting that she's been experiencing hallucinations brought on by a concussion. Iris says that's not possible- she met Miss Froy before she hit her head. The doctor tells her that it's likely that, seeing someone similarly dressed while still woozy, her bruised brain transposed a familiar face over the actual one, leading her to think she had seen Miss Froy. Unable to find any evidence that the little governess was ever on the train, Iris unhappily concludes that the doctor must be right. Hoping to distract her, Gilbert takes Iris to the dining car to buy her dinner. As he makes idle conversation, Iris glances over at the window and gasps: Miss Froy's name is still written in the dust- she had been on board. Then, Gilbert sees the packet from of Miss Froy's herbal tea thrown out in the dining car's trash... further proof that Iris wasn't hallucinating. The question is, what's going on? Why is everyone lying to them? And most importantly, where is Miss Froy now? Iris and Gilbert, trapped on the speeding train and not knowing who they can trust, set out to find some answers. Related Posts: In this post, I want to take a look at Cynthia's character, because she has a particularly interesting one. We hear quite a bit about Cynthia before we meet her; she is Hyacinth's daughter from her first marriage. Having fallen on hard times after being widowed, Hyacinth found employment first as a governess and then as a school teacher (not a very successful one). While engaged in these jobs, she found it inconvenient to have a small child underfoot, so she scraped enough money together to send young Cynthia away to boarding school in France. After this, Cynthia's visits home were few and far between. Even when the wedding between Dr Gibson and Hyacinth is being planned, Hyacinth is in no hurry to have her daughter return home, discouraging the doctor when he offers to pay for Cynthia's trip back for the wedding. The fact is, Hyacinth isn't really the motherly type, which is unfortunate, since strong guidance is exactly what Cynthia needs, as we find out when she finally appears on the scene. Cynthia makes quite a splash when she lands in the small pond of Hollingford, because she's beautiful, vivacious, and stylish. She is the type of person who immediately attracts attention when she enters a room. She is very popular at parties, because she can do light social banter very well, and can also feign interest in subjects which she couldn't care less about, which leads someone like Roger to assume she actually is interested in his scholarly pursuits. She is, in fact, merely adopting her usual pose towards men: that she finds them and their topics of conversation fascinating. This is an attitude which she adopts towards all men- and to a certain extent, other women- to make them like her. If this seems shallow, well it is, though I don't think we should rush to judgement on this score. Consider for a moment what Cynthia's upbringing was like: soon after her father's death, she is sent away to boarding school because her presence is inconvenient to her mother. A young girl, constantly living among strangers, no doubt found the situation more endurable if she didn't allow herself to care too much about it- or anything else. We see this reflected in her tendency, whenever there's something serious being discussed, to attempt to make a joke of it, or change the subject to something frivolous. It's almost a defense mechanism with her. Also, aware that she is unimportant- an impediment, even- to her mother, it is not unlikely that Cynthia looked for affection and validation from others, so made herself as pleasing company as possible. She freely admits to Molly that she doesn't just want people to like her, she needs them to. In addition, between school in Paris and the fine houses where she spends her vacations, Cynthia has acquired a taste for a lifestyle which, as a member of the poor gentry, she would normally be disqualified from. What better way to assure she's still invited to the best and most glittering social events than by making herself agreeable, indispensable company? But her fascination remains a surface one- there is little underneath. One of the most attractive of Cynthia's characteristics is her friendship with Molly, which is genuine, though she does frequently impose on it. She recognizes Molly's character as being superior to her own, and truly admires her loyalty, constancy, and truthfulness, acknowledging that she herself lacks these characteristics. And despite her love of London society and its diversions, Cynthia doesn't hesitate to drop these things and rush back to Hollingford when she hears Molly is ill, devoting herself to raising her spirits and restoring her to health. This dismays Hyacinth, who fears that Cynthia is risking her chances of making a good match by abandoning London, but this doesn't sway her daughter. Actually, very little Hyacinth does sways her daughter. Cynthia, due to her upbringing, feels little loyalty to her mother, and not blinded by affection, does not overlook her mother's faults. Also, lacking Molly's discretion, she doesn't hesitate to comment on them. While this does not reflect well on Cynthia's ability- or lack of it- to honour her mother, it is a bit refreshing to see Hyacinth, after all the petty selfishness she inflicts on others- especially Molly and her father- get called on her behaviour. This is not to say that Cynthia is not herself a selfish person, because she is, but not in the same way as her mother. Hyacinth wants social position and recognition, and doesn't mind stepping on others to get it. She is actively jealous when Lady Harriet forms a friendship with Molly, feeling threatened, as though this relationship will lessen her own importance in the eyes of the community, where she accorded respect for being on intimate terms with the local aristocratic family. She therefore attempts to squelch the friendship, sending Molly away on various pretexts whenever Lady Harriet sends word that she is to call. Cynthia, on the other hand, likes attention, but feels no need to steal it from others. On the contrary, she does her best to make Molly appear to advantage whenever they go out. Blessed with the ability to refurbish hats and gowns, making them look new and stylish, Cynthia overhauls Molly's wardrobe, cheerfully taking things from her own, to make over Molly's outfits. Also, though beautiful, Cynthia isn't vain about her looks. She knows in a matter-of-fact sort of way that she's attractive to men, and is perfectly willing to use the fact to get what she wants, but that's all her looks are to her: a means unto an end. Now, having outlined Cynthia's good points, it's time to balance them out with her flaws. To be blunt, Cynthia is a selfish person. I'm not condemning her for wishing to make an advantageous marriage: at that time, there wasn't much else for women to aspire to, and the alternative for Cynthia- at least before her mother's remarriage- was to become a governess, something which she was in no way temperamentally suited for. But in her efforts to gain what she wants, Cynthia ends up causing damage and pain to a number of people. It's all well and good to say that she doesn't mean to do so, but the fact is that by acting rashly, and doing what seems advantageous at the time with no thought to probable consequences, she does in fact hurt quite a few people. Take the situation with Mr. Preston, for example. One could argue that he got what he deserved, being creepy enough to lend money to a young girl with strings attached. But on the other hand, Cynthia knew that he was attracted to her, and used that. She wanted a new dress so that she could go to the ball, and he presented her with a way to get one, so she took it, assuming that she could get out of the consequences later. This, in a nutshell, is Cynthia's biggest fault: she always wants an easy way out, and doesn't stop to consider what the repercussions may be, relying on her charm to get her out of possible consequences. This attitude is what informs Cynthia's sudden decision to become engaged to Roger. She knows that he is infatuated with her, and she sees this as a way out of the situation with Preston. She likes Roger well enough, but promises to marry him simply as an escape from the awkward and potentially scandalous situation she's landed herself in. She doesn't bother to consider the hurt she'll cause Roger when she inevitably breaks the engagement, focusing only on her own troubles. Likewise, with regard to the Preston problem, she talks Molly into meeting with him and dealing with his anger and bitterness. This is manifestly unfair; Cynthia is responsible for the situation, and should have to deal with the unpleasantness involved with settling the matter. It is easier, however, to avoid this by imposing on Molly, and she does so, not even thinking of the possible consequences. While she traipses off to London, unconcerned and unaware, Molly's reputation is almost ruined. Cynthia never has to deal with the fallout from her actions, and doesn't seem to feel that she ought to. When Dr Gibson finally takes her to task for her actions, she plays the victim, crying and saying that everyone has been cruel to her- childish behaviour. Also, like a child, when in trouble she generally threatens to run away, saying that she's going to Russia to become a governess. She doesn't really mean it of course... it's just another way of bringing other people around to deal with her problems so that she doesn't have to. When Cynthia finally breaks off their engagement, it's in a letter to Roger while he's in Africa... so much easier than doing it face to face. When he comes home and sends word that he wants to speak with her about it, Cynthia is petulantly angry: why can't Roger just accept what she wrote, and not inflict an unpleasant and uncomfortable interview on her? She has no thought for the hurt that he's feeling- she's just upset at the inconvenience to herself. Also, while Cynthia frankly admires the integrity of people like Molly, Roger, and Dr. Gibson, she never attempts to emulate it. She freely and cheerfully admits her own faults and character defects, but seems to feel that her frankness should excuse her from actually having to do anything to correct these flaws. What use is it to be self-aware if you never strive to improve yourself? To sum up, Cynthia is a complicated person, and a testament to Elizabeth Gaskell's skill at writing complex characters. She is alternately selfish and giving, secretive and frank, caring and callous. She endears herself to you, and then thoroughly annoys you... you're irritated by her immaturity, then charmed by her mischievous humour. In short, she's a three-dimensional character, one which leaves you ultimately shaking your head with exasperated affection. Related Posts: It's no secret that I love the Sherlock Holmes stories by Arthur Conan Doyle... my two volume collection of his novels and short stories is battered and bent from years of repeated reading. I also enjoy the Granada series starring Jeremy Brett, several of the Holmes movies, and of course, BBC Sherlock. There are other incarnations of Holmes which I'm not particularly fond of (Elementary) but that's a post for another day. It's also obvious that I'm a Star Trek fan- again, not of all the Trek franchises or episodes, and very few of the movies, but a fan nevertheless. This being the case, I'm always interested when the two worlds intersect: for example, Spock quotes Sherlock Holmes in The Undiscovered Country and there are a couple of episodes in ST: TNG which feature Data playing Sherlock Holmes on the holodeck. More interesting from my point of view, Nicholas Meyer, writer of The Wrath of Khan as well as a couple of the other movie screenplays also wrote The Seven Percent Solution which is probably the most famous of all Sherlock Holmes pastiches. So imagine my surprise when, while reading an article about Sherlock/ Star Trek connections I discovered that there was a star ship named after Sherlock Holmes. Its name appears on a view screen during an episode of TNG: "Conspiracy". I've seen the episode, but never noticed this, so I immediately hunted up a screen shot and, sure enough, there it is. You have to kind of squint to make it out, so kudos to whoever was sharp-eyed enough to notice it originally, but it is there: the USS Sherlock Holmes NCC 221B. How cool/ nerdy is that? And just for fun: Related Posts: |
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