tag:theconversation.com,2011:/au/topics/queen-elizabeth-i-66995/articles
Queen Elizabeth I – The Conversation
2023-05-02T20:00:06Z
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/204539
2023-05-02T20:00:06Z
2023-05-02T20:00:06Z
Coronations – real and imagined – on the screen: the outrageously disrespectful, the controversial and the tasteful
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/523596/original/file-20230501-28-ewcv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C4%2C3195%2C2117&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Alex Bailey/Netflix</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Information about King Charles III’s coronation is coming out bit by bit from who <a href="https://www.royal.uk/news-and-activity/2023-04-27/roles-to-be-performed-at-the-coronation-service-at-westminster-abbey">will do what</a> to the choice of music and the <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2023-04-10/coronation-king-charles-twitter-emoji-announcement/102204588">coronation emoji design</a>. </p>
<p>One fact was never in doubt: we can watch it on television. </p>
<p>Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953 drew <a href="https://www.bbc.com/historyofthebbc/anniversaries/june/coronation-of-queen-elizabeth-ii/">20 million viewers</a> on the BBC. Behind the scenes there were fierce arguments about televising the service. Prime Minister Winston Churchill <a href="https://winstonchurchill.org/the-life-of-churchill/senior-statesman/coronation-of-queen-elizabeth-ii/">opposed the idea</a>. </p>
<p>The 27-year-old queen insisted there would be cameras inside Westminster Abbey. But one thing was clear: the cameras would avert their gaze at the <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-22764987">most sacred</a> moment of the ceremony. </p>
<p>Everyone agreed the <a href="https://www.kcl.ac.uk/consecration-of-the-new-king-what-is-anointing">anointing</a>, the moment the monarch becomes sacred, was too holy for television cameras.</p>
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<p>In 2023, coronation planners feel the same: the cameras will <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/king-charles-coronation-appointment-private-behind-closed-doors-wd26nszn8">again</a> avert their gaze as Archbishop Justin Welby anoints Charles III.</p>
<p>But while this will only be the second British coronation to be televised, popular culture has provided many opportunities to see fictional depictions.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/picking-up-a-king-charles-iii-coronation-commemorative-plate-youre-buying-into-a-centuries-old-tradition-200646">Picking up a King Charles III coronation commemorative plate? You're buying into a centuries-old tradition</a>
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<h2>Coronations on the screen</h2>
<p><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0127536/">Elizabeth</a> (1998) about Queen Elizabeth I had a major set piece as the crown was placed on the queen’s head even as there was turmoil in her 16th-century kingdom. </p>
<p>In close-up, Elizabeth closes her eyes and draws on her inner strength as the crown and sceptre are handed to her and her political enemies watch with hostility. </p>
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<p>In <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0112964/">England My England</a> (1995) the coronation of Charles II in 1685 is farcical, as the king processes behind an ancient and tottering archbishop. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1504320/">The King’s Speech</a> (2010) showed behind-the-scenes preparation for George VI’s coronation in 1937, including George’s concerns at speaking without a stutter. </p>
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<p>The tasteful planning in 1953 to preserve the holiness of the coronation contrasts with other versions of the coronation on British television. British television’s respect in 1953 has given way to parody, comedy and sensationalism. </p>
<p>One of the most outrageously disrespectful depictions of a televised coronation is a <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0591023/">1977 episode</a> of the famous comedy series The Goodies. The Goodies made their parody of the coronation in the year of Elizabeth’s silver jubilee in an episode packed with bizarre and disrespectful comedy. </p>
<p>The actual royal family are injured when performing an entertainment routine and so it is up to one of the Goodies, Tim Brooke-Taylor, to impersonate the injured queen in a re-creation of the coronation. </p>
<p>Another Goodie (also a man) takes the place of Princess Anne. Because of budget cuts, everyone at Westminster Abbey is a cardboard cut-out. </p>
<p>In a chase scene between the royal family and the Goodies, the false Princess Anne leaps on the back of the Archbishop of Canterbury and makes him canter around a field. </p>
<p>There was more comedy and more disrespect in King Ralph (1991), which not only showed the death by electrocution of the entire royal family but also the crown placed on the head of a loud-mouthed American slob who was the only surviving heir to the throne. He then promptly wore it in a bubble bath. </p>
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<p>More serious in tone, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5242360/">The Crown</a> in 2016 showed what the BBC’s cameras did not in 1953 with close-up views of the most sacred moments of the ceremony. The high-definition cameras make viewers close and intimate when the 1953 ceremony was veiled and sacred. </p>
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<p>In 2009 the drama series <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1365539/">The Queen</a> showed Elizabeth II’s accession and coronation not as holy but as part of domestic drama and scandal. </p>
<p>Like both the comedy of the Goodies and the drama of The Crown, it showed both a coronation and a royal family that had shifted from the sacred to the profane. Public ritual masked the private dramas in the royal family including Princess Margaret’s liaison with a divorced man. </p>
<p>Most serious of all, the 2017 television film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6253522/">King Charles III</a> imagined a near future where Charles comes to the throne only to cause political chaos through erratic and unconstitutional acts. </p>
<p>Controversial because it showed Charles’s reign as brief and turbulent, and forced to abdicate by William, the film ends with Charles disgruntled and cast aside, gate-crashing William’s coronation and slamming the crown down on William’s head. </p>
<p>Charles III’s coronation will be a magnificent spectacle. But today’s television viewers will also know the real-life soap opera behind the scenes of today’s royal family. Whether we laugh at comedy or are absorbed by drama, we have seen television as less than respectful of sacred mysteries. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/from-fairytale-to-gothic-ghost-story-how-40-years-of-biopics-showed-princess-diana-on-screen-173648">From fairytale to gothic ghost story: how 40 years of biopics showed Princess Diana on screen</a>
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<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/204539/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Marcus Harmes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
While this will only be the second British coronation to be televised, popular culture has provided many opportunities to see fictional depictions.
Marcus Harmes, Professor in Pathways Education, University of Southern Queensland
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/190686
2022-09-16T15:31:00Z
2022-09-16T15:31:00Z
Queen Elizabeth: what we mean when we say we are mourning her for the values she embodied
<p>The feeling and public expression of grief and sorrow following the death of Queen Elizabeth on September 8, 2022 has caught much of the British population off guard. It was inescapable that, at the age of 96, the Queen was nearing the end of her life. As retired palliative care doctor and author Kathryn Mannix <a href="https://twitter.com/drkathrynmannix/status/1569067840409419783">tweeted</a>, she had likely been dying for some time. </p>
<p>However, photographs of her meeting both the outgoing and incoming prime ministers just 48 hours prior meant that the announcement that she had died was unforeseen. Her passing is in that category of death in old age that end-of-life specialist Diana Teggi <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0277953618305446">defines</a> as expected but still sudden, and somewhat of a shock.</p>
<p>The coverage of the Queen’s death in the last week reflects how death is increasingly “spectacularised”, to use a term <a href="https://www.routledge.com/The-Age-of-Spectacular-Death/Jacobsen/p/book/9780367368272">coined</a> by death studies sociologist Michael Hviid Jacobsen. </p>
<p>We have seen blanket media coverage – on television, radio and online – of the extensive and highly choreographed pageantry involved in transporting the Queen’s coffin, with crowds of onlookers along the various routes, from Balmoral to Edinburgh, from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Hall. This serves to make of her death a spectacle. It creates a narrative of a <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/14616696.2019.1616795">national community of grief</a>.</p>
<p>The question, though, is <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/sep/15/crowd-behaviour-london-mourning-queen">whether what we are seeing</a> actually is a community of grief. Labelling the public response in this way simplifies what is a profoundly social event. </p>
<h2>A collective reluctance to face up to death</h2>
<p>There is a growing death-positive movement in the UK and around the world. It proposes the concept of death and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/07481187.2020.1739780?casa_token=pOKT-JrQBcEAAAAA%3AtEa1llWmf8zm_Ugdy1OQid-UkuexK0onfVqOUlwQbJqbiLFV3lT9MR8Vu8y0rwXwHUJAFgeG1_k">grief literacy</a> which champions talking about and preparing for death. </p>
<p>Rather than having dying be only the purview of the medical establishment, it frames death as a collective, social responsibility. The idea is that greater openness and greater compassion can increase collective wellbeing and a sense of community. It can make people feel less isolated in both their grief and facing up to their mortality.</p>
<p>Despite this, <a href="https://fingertips.phe.org.uk/profile/end-of-life/data">most deaths</a> still remains abstracted from everyday life and hidden from view. As sociologist Tony Walter <a href="https://uk.sagepub.com/en-gb/eur/death-in-the-modern-world/book255329">has put it</a>, </p>
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<p>Death in the modern world is profoundly subject to medicalisation, professionalisation, rationality, and bureaucracy. </p>
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<p>As a result, actual, raw grief is still largely concealed too. It can be difficult to face up to and talk about openly, <a href="https://theconversation.com/from-prince-charles-and-his-mother-down-why-britain-finds-it-hard-to-talk-about-death-107155">even for the monarchy</a>.</p>
<p>Losing the Queen is likely, therefore, a significant moment in people’s lives as a very public, shared and visible reminder that you can be here one day and gone the next. </p>
<h2>The Queen’s death as a societal loss</h2>
<p>It is this shared quality of the Queen’s death that makes this national period of mourning so interesting and the term “grief” to describe public responses so inadequate. Only a handful of the British people actually public knew her as a person. </p>
<p>By all accounts she had enduring relationships and was well liked by her inner circle, as evidenced by the multitude of affectionate anecdotes that have been shared since she died. To those people, the impact of her death <a href="https://theconversation.com/grieving-for-a-grandparent-a-counsellor-explains-how-they-help-people-through-such-a-loss-190456">will be deeply felt</a>. </p>
<p>But for others who did not know the Queen personally, more than the death of an individual, they are perhaps mourning the loss of what she represented. <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13576275.2012.755505?casa_token=cp7-9LO2RfMAAAAA%3A6tnRVcp3zWA5XJUa9XzQOHjZfcTyBD_40dD05MEM6p4YPLVUts-ZtjRi74UvQw0ZIZ3iRCvEqVg">This has been seen</a> in funerals for “ordinary” people, where it is not only the deceased individual who is being remembered but also the values and beliefs that they embodied. </p>
<p>These values in turn are expected to be reflected in the funerary rituals chosen by the organisers. A sign of a “good funeral” is when the values espoused in the funeral align with those of the individual who has died and the memories of those bearing witness to said ritual. </p>
<p>So far, this seems to be the case with the Queen. The respect being shown for her by people visiting makeshift shrines and filing past her coffin lying in state mirrors the esteem with which she was held in life and the values of reverence and resilience that she personified. </p>
<p>Such sentiment has been echoed in countless <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2022/sep/08/world-leaders-pay-tribute-death-queen-elizabeth-ii">news</a> articles, <a href="https://www.thejc.com/lets-talk/all/the-queen-was-a-rock-of-stability-and-a-champion-of-timeless-values-3zGIweyowuwnkoEvCu9aqs">opinion pieces</a>, statements from <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/queen-platinum-jubilee-canada-1.6341571">politicians</a> and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/live/2022/sep/14/king-charles-iii-prince-william-harry-accompany-queen-elizabeth-ii-coffin-casket-westminster-hall-lie-lying-in-state-live-updates-latest-news?page=with:block-6321ab898f0818891db89366#block-6321ab898f0818891db89366">interviews</a> with people on the street, where time and again it has been recognised that the Queen was a unique individual worthy of such attention and public response. </p>
<p>Over 70 years her behaviour and apparent value system was absolutely consistent, with commentaries reflecting on her humility, tolerance, discretion, pragmatism, graciousness and sense of civic duty. The sadness being expressed by those mourning in public then becomes about not just the loss of her as an individual but also the way she conducted herself and the values she embodied.</p>
<h2>Why we have ritual</h2>
<p>Much like attending a funeral but taking part on a much grander scale, participating in the public mourning for the Queen – standing on the pavement to watch the coffin cortege pass, waiting in the queue to pay one’s respects – is thus about bearing witness to this loss together. In his <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1111/1467-954X.00344">analysis</a> of where people went to mourn the death of Princess Diana in 1997, sociologist Tony Walter describes the rare sense of solidarity these mourners experienced. </p>
<p>In mourning Diana, much like in remembering the war dead on Remembrance Sunday, a sense of society – of togetherness with others people did not know personally – was constructed. For everyday people, this is typically the purpose of a funeral service, to come together and feel a sense of community in remembering the deceased. </p>
<p>Such rituals of remembrance, whether highly or orchestrated or spontaneous, have a <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/death-and-the-regeneration-of-life/2C26BF619DD42B131CF9C971DB014C99">restorative and social function</a> after a significant event. Rather than being simply about the expression of grief, it is this social function that we are observing right now in the public mourning for Queen Elizabeth, as we mourn the loss of what she represented.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/190686/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kate Woodthorpe does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
As words go, grief feels inadequate for describing public sentiment in the wake of the Queen’s death.
Kate Woodthorpe, Reader in Sociology, University of Bath
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/190625
2022-09-16T15:17:12Z
2022-09-16T15:17:12Z
How news of the death of Elizabeth I in the 17th century was communicated in ballads and proclamations
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/484631/original/file-20220914-7253-spyrev.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">K E HR</span> </figcaption></figure><p>When Queen Elizabeth II passed away on September 8, 2022, there can’t have been many people in the UK who hadn’t heard about it within hours of her death. The media was <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2022/sep/08/whispers-hours-of-uncertainty-then-news-of-the-death-of-the-queen">on high alert</a> from around midday, when an announcement from Buckingham Palace made clear that the monarch’s health was under threat. </p>
<p>The BBC replaced normal programming with rolling news coverage. And as soon as the announcement of the Queen’s death was posted on the gates of Buckingham Palace, just before 6.30pm, news presenters interrupted programmes across the board to inform the public. The news, after all, is at our fingertips 24/7. </p>
<p>By contrast, when Queen Elizabeth I died in Richmond Palace, near London, on March 24, 1603, the news didn’t arrive in Berwick-upon-Tweed in Northumberland, around 550km away, <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=PkxnAAAAMAAJ&lpg=PA54&ots=BsfualxUCF&dq=%22narration%20of%20the%20progresse%20and%20entertainment%22&pg=PA55#v=onepage&q=%22narration%20of%20the%20progresse%20and%20entertainment%22&f=false">until two days later</a>. The <a href="http://stuarts-online.com/resources/texts/a-proclamation-declaring-the-undoubted-right-of-our-sovereign-lord-king-james-to-the-crown-of-the-realms-of-england-france-and-ireland/">proclamation</a> that brought news of her death and of James I’s accession took almost <a href="https://muse.jhu.edu/article/610826">two weeks to reach Ireland</a>. </p>
<p>In the days before mass media and high levels of literacy, news travelled slowly. Like our current press, however, early tools for communicating this kind of momentous event trod the same tricky path of celebrating the late queen’s reign, mourning her passing and heralding the new king’s arrival. Striking the right tone to reflect the nation’s grief and commemorate a distinguished life has always been crucial. </p>
<h2>How news spread in the 17th century</h2>
<p>When Elizabeth I died in 1603, James VI of Scotland became James I <a href="https://www.parliament.uk/globalassets/documents/heritage/FamilyTree.pdf">King of England and Ireland</a> as well. We know that many people across England, Wales and Ireland found out about this through proclamations, songs and other forms of oral communication. </p>
<p>Research shows how even pamphlets were often <a href="https://research.ncl.ac.uk/voicesandbooks/aboutourproject/">designed to be read aloud</a>, for example, by using punctuation to instruct readers when to pause or breathe. They recognised that printed texts were shared socially among groups of family and friends.</p>
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<img alt="A painted portrait of a young queen wearing a crown and ermine-trimmed cape over a gold dress." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=806&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=806&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=806&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1013&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1013&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484628/original/file-20220914-26-rpecga.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1013&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">A 17th copy of a 16th century portrait of Elizabeth I by an unknown author.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elizabeth_I_in_coronation_robes.jpg">Wikimedia</a></span>
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<p>These items could be described as the social media of their day. The simple, popular songs known as ballads could be composed and printed within a matter of days. They were easy to distribute and cheap to buy. Above all, they were based on face-to-face communication and public performance. </p>
<p>Fanfares of drums and trumpets of the kind that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCHmV3mehMI">preceded the principal proclamation</a> of King Charles III at St James Court on September 10, 2022 were also often used to grab people’s attention for the proclamations which were heard in Tudor and Stuart marketplaces.</p>
<p>Ballads were ideal for disseminating this sort of news and information too. Like proclamations, they were performed in marketplaces, but they could also be heard at fairs and in taverns – anywhere where an audience could gather. Though the lyrics were often printed, they mostly spread by <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/13688804.2016.1211930">word of mouth</a>. And they deliberately used techniques that made them <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/transactions-of-the-royal-historical-society/article/popular-propaganda-john-heywoods-wedding-ballad-and-mary-is-spanish-match/B4D50DB13B353237A1608E6A6C994B01">easy to remember</a>, including rhyme, rhythm and repetition. </p>
<p>The chorus of one ballad about Elizabeth I’s death, called <a href="http://ebba.english.ucsb.edu/ballad/32231/image">A Mournful Ditty</a>, combined repetition, alliteration and rhyme with a melody. It was perfectly crafted for singers to join in:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Lament, lament, lament you English peers,
Lament your loss possessed so many years. </p>
</blockquote>
<h2>A dual focus</h2>
<p>These days, of course, it would be rare to learn about a major news event from a song. But the lyrics of that ballad show how the fundamental problems facing the media today on the death of a sovereign were the same 400 years ago. </p>
<p>The immediate focus is on grief. For there to be mourning, there also needs to be a sense that something cherished has been lost. So even while celebrating the peace and stability of her impressive 44-year reign, the ditty praised Elizabeth I as “the paragon of time” and urged its listeners to: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Weep, wring your hands, all clad in mourning</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But the death of one monarch marks the accession of another. And the focus of the cheapest print – ballads – quickly shifted to the new monarch. This is probably because James I faced one issue that Charles III does not. </p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="A historic painted portrait of a king wearing jewels." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=858&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=858&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=858&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1078&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1078&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/484622/original/file-20220914-6106-b5qlv1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1078&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Portrait of James I of England wearing the jewel called the Three Brothers in his hat, c. 1605, by John de Critz.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9e/Portrait_of_James_I_of_England_wearing_the_jewel_called_the_Three_Brothers_in_his_hat.jpg">Wikimedia</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In contrast to Charles III – who is a familiar figure from his many years as the heir apparent – James was, to the English, Welsh and Irish, king of a foreign state. What is more, Elizabeth I had refused to name him as her successor. There were any number of <a href="https://academic.oup.com/manchester-scholarship-online/book/13574">rival claims</a> to her throne. </p>
<p>Several ballads combined mourning the Queen’s passing with introducing the Scottish king to his new subjects. They highlighted continuities, including <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/1468-229X.13084">James’s English ancestry</a> as great-great-grandson of Henry VII. </p>
<p>Pamphlets described his journey from Edinburgh and ceremonial <a href="https://humanities-research.exeter.ac.uk/stuarts/public/pub/view/id/61/order/id/direction/ASC">entry into London</a> in detail. One song even went so far as to falsely <a href="http://ebba.english.ucsb.edu/ballad/34448/image">claim</a> that Elizabeth I had “assigned all her state to our Noble King James”. Presumably this was part of a narrative that smoothed his accession by setting him up as the rightful heir to the throne. </p>
<p>One printed sheet, <a href="https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A21251.0001.001/1:1?rgn=div1;view=fulltext">Weep with Joy</a>, described Elizabeth as an example of piety, humility and mercy whose loss should be lamented. It also noted that James’s accession was a cause for celebration. His proclamation, the pamphlet states, was “read and received with great applause of the people”. </p>
<p>How true this was is debatable. <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/41609/41609-h/41609-h.htm">One diarist</a> noted that the proclamation was heard with “silent joy”, though this was in part down to relief that James had succeeded peacefully. </p>
<p>This narrative of continuity can now be seen in the way Charles III’s <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-62856395">speeches and statements</a> draw on his mother’s reputation. Although a succession crisis was never on the cards, his accession has been greeted with misgivings by some. Maybe even in the 21st century, the dual focus of news helps to strengthen the bond between the new monarch and the old, smoothing the transition of power even as it creates tensions for the media.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/190625/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jenni Hyde does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
In 2022 TV news rather than ballads communicate the details of a monarch’s death, but the challenge of communicating the royal succession draws on lessons from 400 years ago.
Jenni Hyde, Lecturer in Early Modern History, Lancaster University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/155256
2021-04-22T12:24:47Z
2021-04-22T12:24:47Z
Shakespeare’s musings on religion are like curious whispers – they require deep listening to be heard
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/396365/original/file-20210421-17-if17cq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=31%2C177%2C6927%2C5153&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Caliban implores his fellow island dwellers to listen to the noises in "The Tempest."</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/act-i-scene-ii-from-the-tempest-c19th-century-miranda-news-photo/507137240?adppopup=true">The Print Collector/Getty Images</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>William Shakespeare’s role as a religious guide is not an obvious one. </p>
<p>While the work of the bard, whose <a href="https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/shakespedia/william-shakespeare/when-was-shakespeare-born/">birthday is celebrated on April 23</a>, has been scoured at various times over the past four centuries for <a href="https://www.publicaffairsbooks.com/titles/clare-asquith/shadowplay/9781541774308/">coded messages about Catholicism, Puritanism or Anglicanism</a>, the <a href="https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/shakespeare-and-religion-9781904271703/">more common view</a> is that his stunning explorations of humanity leave little space for serious reflection on divinity. Indeed, some Shakespeare scholars have gone further, suggesting that his works display an <a href="https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/S/bo6021785.html">explicit atheism</a>.</p>
<p>But as a scholar of theology who has published <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Shakespeare-Theology-and-the-Unstaged-God/Baker/p/book/9780367784836">a book exploring Shakespeare’s treatment of faith</a>, I believe the playwright’s best religious impulses are displayed neither through coded affirmations nor straightforward denials. Writing at a time of great religious polarization and upheaval, Shakespeare’s greatest pronouncements on faith are more like curious whispers – and, like whispers, they require deep listening to be heard.</p>
<h2>Religious noises</h2>
<p>I see an invitation to this deep listening in one of Shakespeare’s most unusual plays, “<a href="https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/shakespedia/shakespeares-plays/tempest/">The Tempest.</a>” “Be not afeared,” the half-man, half-beast Caliban tells his companions as they arrive on the island where the play is set, “the isle is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.”</p>
<p>It is a striking passage, made all the more so coming from a foul-smelling creature accused of attempted rape and repeatedly called “monster.” But in it, Shakespeare seems to be suggesting that there are dimensions of reality that many of us miss – and we might be surprised to find out who among us is paying attention.</p>
<p>Subtleties like this show up differently across Shakespeare’s plays. “Romeo and Juliet” is not in any overt sense a theological play. But as the tragedy comes to a somber denouement, we have the line “See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.”</p>
<p>While there is no clear naming of gods or fates, Shakespeare implies that some great power transcends the destructive feud between the Montagues and Capulets, the families of the two lovers. He calls into question the earthly power of the two houses – heaven, he implies, is also at work here.</p>
<h2>Tumultuous times</h2>
<p>Shakespeare was, I believe, in constant search of subtle ways to imagine divine intervention within the human realm. This is all the more impressive given the fraught religious times in which he lived.</p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="An etching of William Shakespeare." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=728&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=728&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=728&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=915&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=915&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/396408/original/file-20210421-23-wjcv7f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=915&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Closet Catholic or atheist? Or is it more complicated?</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/english-dramatist-william-shakespeare-circa-1600-news-photo/51165673?adppopup=true">Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The late 16th century witnessed religious and political polarization greater, even, than our own. Decades earlier, King Henry VIII had <a href="https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-1-349-22586-6">separated the Anglican church from Rome</a> and created a Protestant England. His daughter Elizabeth, who sat on the throne for the first half of Shakespeare’s writing career, was <a href="https://doi.org/10.1017/stc.2016.13">excommunicated by Pope Pius V</a> for continuing in her father’s footsteps. The queen responded by making the practice of Catholicism a crime in England. </p>
<p>So even before Elizabeth’s successor, James I, <a href="https://academic.oup.com/res/article-abstract/61/251/495/1564755">outlawed overt theological humor or criticism on stage</a>, artists hoping to engage in religious themes were under considerable restrictions. </p>
<p>These upheavals affected Shakespeare directly. Shakespeare’s <a href="https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/shakespedia/william-shakespeare/shakespeare-religion/">family had deep ties to Roman Catholicism</a>, as likely did some of his closest associates. For any one of them to express doubts about the Anglican prayer book, or even to avoid the Anglican parish on Sunday, was to put themselves under suspicion of treason. </p>
<p>There is little in the way of biographical detail to help scholars looking for Shakepeare’s religious beliefs. Instead, they have generally relied on explicit references to familiar religious language or character types – the Catholic priest in “Romeo and Juliet,” for instance – in speculating about Shakespeare’s faith. Some have suggested that clues and codes in his play suggest the <a href="https://www.ncregister.com/news/shakespeare-closet-catholic">playwright was a closeted Catholic</a>. But to me it is more in what he doesn’t say, or where he finds new ways of saying something old, that Shakespeare is theologically at his most interesting. </p>
<h2>‘God’s spies’</h2>
<p>Shakespeare’s faith and how he expresses it are explored in a <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/24712408?socuuid=9b85877c-589a-4256-a51b-711cfbc818fb&socplat=email">2017 play</a> by poet Rowan Williams, a theologian and former head of the Church of England. In it, Williams imagines a young Shakespeare in search of a new language for things religious, and dissatisfied with the heavily politicized options before him.</p>
<p>In a pivotal scene, “young Will” explains to his Jesuit mentor that, despite the attractiveness of their radical Catholic cause, he cannot join: “The old religion is the only, the only – picture of things that speaks to me, yes, but it’s as if there were still voices all around me wanting to make themselves heard and they don’t all speak one language or tell one tale, and all that – it would haunt me if I tried what you do, and it would make me turn away from the pains and the question, because I’d know that there’d always be more than the old religion could say and it still had to be heard.”</p>
<p>In other words, while Catholicism “speaks” to young Will, he believes there is more that “still had to be heard.”</p>
<p>The voices that Williams’ Shakespeare wants to hear are similar, I believe, to those that Caliban talks of in “The Tempest.” So young Will does not join the Catholic cause; instead, he goes off in search of ways to stay with “the pains and the question.” Williams is suggesting that Shakespeare’s subsequent plays are an attempt to let all these complex and difficult voices “be heard.”</p>
<p>They are his attempt to give voice to religious noise beyond the range of the religious certainty of his age.</p>
<p>[<em>Over 100,000 readers rely on The Conversation’s newsletter to understand the world.</em> <a href="https://theconversation.com/us/newsletters/the-daily-3?utm_source=TCUS&utm_medium=inline-link&utm_campaign=newsletter-text&utm_content=100Ksignup">Sign up today</a>.]</p>
<p>We see this in “King Lear.” Lear spends the entire play cursing the gods for the lack of love and respect his children show him. But when the heaven-cursing rants finally subside, the play gives its audience a beautiful and painful reconciliation scene with his daughter Cordelia. He discovers in his daughter’s forgiveness a kind of higher vantage point, one from which they might both “take upon’s the mystery of things, As if we were God’s spies.”</p>
<p>Like Caliban in “The Tempest,” Lear learns to hear those voices just out of human range.</p>
<p>Similarly, Shakespeare asks his audience to listen and watch differently, as if we too are God’s spies or Earth’s monsters.</p>
<p>
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<img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338598/original/file-20200529-78871-1g5gse5.jpg?w=128&h=128">
<div>
<header></header>
<p><a href="https://www.ats.edu/">Seminary of the Southwest is a member of the Association of Theological Schools.</a></p>
<footer>The ATS is a funding partner of The Conversation US.</footer>
</div>
</section>
</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/155256/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Anthony D. Baker funding in the form of a grant from The Conant Foundation, through The Episcopal Church, for travel research on Shakespeare. </span></em></p>
Scholars have scoured the works of the great playwright for clues about his faith. A scholar of theology and Shakespeare’s works says it isn’t as simple as that.
Anthony D. Baker, Professor of Systematic Theology, Seminary of the Southwest
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/144241
2020-08-20T08:59:22Z
2020-08-20T08:59:22Z
Magic was once seen as equal to science and religion – a bit of magical thinking could help the world now
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353673/original/file-20200819-42861-1jbkr1j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=29%2C34%2C3296%2C2189&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Isaac Newton was a man of many talents, including alchemy.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wellcome Images</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>On April 16 1872, a group of men sat drinking in the Barley Mow pub near Wellington in Somerset in the UK’s south-west. A gust of wind in the chimney dislodged four onions with paper attached to them with pins. On each piece of paper, a name was written. This turned out to be an instance of 19th-century magic. The onions were placed there by a “wizard”, who hoped that as the vegetables shrivelled in the smoke, the people whose names were attached to them would also diminish and suffer harm.</p>
<p>One onion has ended up in the <a href="https://www.prm.ox.ac.uk/">Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford</a>. The person named on it is Joseph Hoyland Fox, a local temperance campaigner who had been trying to close the Barley Mow in 1871 to combat the evils of alcohol. The landlord, Samuel Porter, had a local reputation as a “wizard” and none doubted he was engaged in a magical campaign against those trying to damage his business. </p>
<p>E.B. Tylor, who wrote <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Primitive-Culture-by-Tylor">Primitive Culture</a>, a foundational work of 19th-century anthropology, lived in Wellington. The onion came to him and thence to the Pitt Rivers Museum of which he was curator from 1883. Tylor was <a href="http://england.prm.ox.ac.uk/englishness-tylors-onion.html">shocked by the onions</a>, which he himself saw as magical. Tylor’s intellectual history regarded human development as moving from magic to religion to science, each more rational and institutionally based than its predecessor. To find evidence of magic on his doorstep in the supposedly rational, scientific Britain of the late 19th century ran totally counter to such an idea.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Onion wrapped in paper used as part of a spell by an 18th-century 'wizard'." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=435&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=435&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=435&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=547&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=547&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353589/original/file-20200819-25336-f4ppv2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=547&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Onion from the Barley Mow with Joseph Hoyland Fox’s name on the paper pinned to it.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pitt Rivers Museum, PRM 1917.53.776</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Rumours of the death of magic have frequently been exaggerated. For tens of thousands of years – in all parts of the inhabited world – magic has been practised and has coexisted with religion and science, sometimes happily, at other times uneasily. Magic, religion and science form a triple helix running through human culture. While the histories of science and religion have been consistently explored, that of magic has not. Any element of human life so pervasive and long-lasting must have an important role to play, requiring more thought and research than it has often received.</p>
<h2>What is magic?</h2>
<p>A crucial question is, “What is magic?” My definition emphasises human participation in the universe. To be human is to be connected, and the universe is also open to influence from human actions and will. Science encourages us to stand back from the universe, understanding it in a detached, objective and abstract manner, while religion sees human connections to the cosmos through a single god or many gods who direct the universe. </p>
<p>Magic, religion and science have their own strengths and weaknesses. It is not a question of choosing between them – science allows us to understand the world in order to influence and change it. Religion, meanwhile, derives from a sense of transcendence and wonder. Magic sees us as immersed in forces and flows of energy influencing our psychological states and well-being, just as we can influence these flows and forces.</p>
<p>Magic is embedded in local cultures and modes of being – there is no one magic, but a vast variety, as can be seen in the briefest survey (for more detail see <a href="https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/303/303993/the-history-of-magic/9780241294819.html">my recent book</a>). Tales of shamanism on the Eurasian steppe, for example, involve people transforming into animals or travelling to the spirit world to counteract disease, death and dispossession.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="A man dressed as a shaman with a stag antler headdress playing a drum." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=373&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=373&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=373&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=469&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=469&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353590/original/file-20200819-24671-12c28o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=469&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The earliest European depiction of a shamanistic rite.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">British Library. Nicolaes Witsen 1705, Amsterdam</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In many places, ancestors influence the living – including in many African and Chinese cultures. A Bronze Age tomb in China reveals complex forms of divination with the dead answering the living. Fu Hao, <a href="https://www.medievalists.net/2018/12/queen-priestess-general-the-legendary-life-of-fu-hao/">buried in the tomb shown below</a>, asked her ancestors about success in war and the outcomes of pregnancies, but then was questioned by her descendants about their future after death.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Tomb of a Chinese queen containing pots and other possessions including tools for divination." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353595/original/file-20200819-42976-173a00s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Fu Hao’s tomb: this Bronze Age Chinese queen sought to find out about the future using divination.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jessica Rawson</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Influential mages</h2>
<p>British royalty employed magicians: Queen Elizabeth I asked <a href="https://www.newscientist.com/article/2078295-the-maddeningly-magical-maths-of-john-dee/">Dr John Dee</a>, a well-known “conjuror” – and probable model for Prospero in Shakespeare’s Tempest – to find the most propitious date for her coronation and supported his attempts at alchemy. </p>
<p>In the following century, Isaac Newton spent considerable effort on alchemy and Biblical prophecy. He was <a href="https://www.neh.gov/humanities/2011/januaryfebruary/feature/newton-the-last-magician">described by the economist John Maynard Keynes</a> as not the first of the Age of Reason, but the last of the magicians. In the mind of Newton – and in his work – magic, science and religion were entangled, each being a tool for examining the deepest secrets of the universe.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="16th-century gathering including Elizabeth I and her court, watching Dr John Dee, an alchemist, perform magic." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=465&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=465&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/353596/original/file-20200819-42893-m2oj33.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=465&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The ‘conjuror’, John Dee, performing a magical ‘action’ for Elizabeth I at Mortlake in London.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wellcome Collection</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Many across the world still believe in magic, which does not make it “true” in some scientific sense, but indicates its continuing power. We are entering an age of change and crisis, brought about by the depredations of the ecology of the planet, human inequality and suffering. We need all the intellectual and cultural tools at our disposal. </p>
<p>Magic encourages a sense of kinship with the universe. With kinship comes care and responsibility, raising the possibility that understanding magic, one of the oldest of human practices, can give us new and urgent insights today.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/144241/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Chris Gosden receives funding from the Leverhulme Trust and has previously received funding from the ERC, AHRC and ESRC, as well as a previous grant from Leverhulme. He is affiliated with the Green Party. </span></em></p>
Is magic all about spells and hocus pocus, or is it simply another way of looking at how the universe works?
Chris Gosden, Professor of European Archaeology, University of Oxford
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/115908
2019-05-02T03:37:37Z
2019-05-02T03:37:37Z
The exhibition Tudors to Windsors is an uncritical glorification of empire
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270645/original/file-20190424-19276-ulhq0q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Tudors to Windsors: British Royal Portraits, exhibition view. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Bendigo Art Gallery</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>When visitors first enter the exhibition <a href="https://www.bendigoregion.com.au/bendigo-art-gallery/exhibitions/tudors-to-windsors-british-royal-portraits">Tudors to Windsors: British Royal Portraits</a> at Bendigo Art Gallery, they are greeted with soaring sounds of coronation anthems. These genteel songs entice patrons into an exhibition that is ultimately conservative in both content and style.</p>
<p>The exhibition opens with portraits of Henry VIII, whose long-term legacy is difficult to deny. Printed on the first main wall is the memorable, yet reductive, children’s rhyme “divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived”. Viewers are quickly drawn into the Crown and court’s power, and the brutality and risk that was associated with being married to Henry VIII.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=939&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=939&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=939&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1180&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1180&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270601/original/file-20190424-19272-1cz4zke.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1180&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Queen Elizabeth I, (The ‘Ditchley’ portrait), by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, c.1592.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© National Portrait Gallery, London</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Best viewed by standing between the portraits of his wives Anne Boleyn and Katherine of Aragon is the first of many two-sided timelines, linking significant moments in the United Kingdom’s history to world events. This suggests that the British monarchy should be understood as a politically powerful force. </p>
<p>It soon becomes clear that this is an exhibition seeking to represent the Empire as a “Great Power”. The two and a half metre “Ditchley Portrait” of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603) illustrates a towering, divine force. </p>
<p>In this highly symbolic work, Elizabeth stands on a world map, her feet firmly planted on Oxfordshire. We see that she was the great hope of her people at the time – a stormy sky is swept away into oblivion by the sunshine that only this Queen can bring. </p>
<h2>A romantic narrative</h2>
<p>The sections on the Stuarts (1603 to 1714),and the Georgian period (1714-1837) are dominated by similar formal portraits, but the curators are obviously wary of contemporary viewer fatigue. The chamber music fades and extravagant portraits disappear as patrons enter the 18th century era of “Empire and Exploration”. It is here that we see this is truly an exhibition adhering to an romanticised narrative of monarchy. </p>
<p>An introductory note explains that The Crown supported three expeditions led by Captain James Cook during the 1760’s and 1770’s “in search of an undiscovered continent in the Pacific Ocean”. It is a great disappointment to see this choice of wording, which erases the significant political issues of Australia’s colonisation. </p>
<p>Had the exhibition acknowledged contemporary historical discussions in Australia, delivering on the curator’s promise to illuminate “key figures and important historical moments”, there might have been a more inclusive and engaging narrative.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270602/original/file-20190424-19286-vsktr3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Queen Victoria, by Alexander Bassano, 1887 (1882).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© National Portrait Gallery, London</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Instead, we move on to a new era of portraiture and monarchy. The advent of photography during Queen Victoria’s (1819-1901) reign provided a new style of intimacy, and a substantial series illustrates her life as both a woman and the British Queen that “reigned but never ruled”.</p>
<p>Critical examination of these images disrupts the romantic representation of this family. Most striking is a carbon print produced by John Jabez Edwin Mayall (1863) illustrating the Queen with her daughter-in-law, Alexandra, on the latter’s wedding day. Here, Alexandra stands over the seated and heavily cloaked Queen Victoria. </p>
<p>Rejecting the demands of the photographer’s lens, her audience, and her daughter-in-law, Victoria instead gazes at a marble bust of her late husband. The idealised representation of a unified family is somewhat disrupted as we are offered the stark black and white image of a mother turning her back on her child on their wedding day, no less. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=681&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=681&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=681&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=855&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=855&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/270603/original/file-20190424-19307-n9f9b3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=855&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">King George VI, by Meredith Frampton, 1929.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© National Portrait Gallery, London / private collection. Lent by Trustees of Barnardo’s, 1997</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Reaching the age of the Windsor family, beginning with George V in 1917 and continuing today, patrons are invited to walk under a glorious chandelier to peruse photographs, film clips, paintings and display cases containing riding gloves and dresses. </p>
<p>These items are enchanting, but there is no sense of the glorious political or military power as displayed in the rooms of the Tudors, Stuarts and Georgians. </p>
<p>Rather, we see the continuing evolution of the monarchy’s “soft power”: images from popular women’s magazines adorn the walls, illustrating a monarchy with significant popular culture influence, but little else. </p>
<p>The complexity of this position is superbly indicated in portraits concerning Queen Elizabeth II. A 1971 print by Patrick Lichfield shows a delighted regent relaxed, clapping, after a formal dinner. This rests in sharp juxtaposition with Chris Levine’s (2007) holographic portrait, “Lightness of Being”, of a crowned Elizabeth II. In this image, artist Levine states, there is “an aura about it, a power”. </p>
<p>Perhaps this moment captured a monarch working hard to continue a long tradition of conveying, through art, a sense of remote authority to an adoring public.</p>
<p>In Tudors to Windsors, through various forms of portraiture, visitors see the monarchy’s transition from a male dominated, politically powerful institution to the celebrity status of more recent female reigns. An unexpected highlight of the exhibition is the history concerning artistic technologies relative to portraiture. </p>
<p>Yet patrons should be aware this is an exhibition that does not apply a critical gaze to the British monarchy. Consequently, idolised images reign. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>Tudors to Windsors: British Royal Portraits is at Bendigo Art Gallery until July 14.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/115908/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Deb Lee-Talbot does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
A new exhibition illustrates the British monarchy’s transition from global powerhouse to modern celebrities. But idolised images reign.
Deb Lee-Talbot, PhD candidate, History, Deakin University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/114120
2019-04-03T10:48:21Z
2019-04-03T10:48:21Z
Genes and genealogy and making the most of famous relations
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/266890/original/file-20190401-177178-qotzl3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Genealogy is the second most popular hobby in the United States.
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/york-united-kingdom-042815-genealogy-family-1161686563">Steve Allen/Shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Digging up one’s genealogical roots is second only to gardening in <a href="http://time.com/133811/how-genealogy-became-almost-as-popular-as-porn/">popularity as a hobby</a> and can be much more exciting. I have known the joy of discovery and the pleasure of sharing the news. </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=757&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=757&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=757&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=951&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=951&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266876/original/file-20190401-177167-10s1s9p.Jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=951&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Portrait of Sir John Harington (1561-1612).</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/33/Hieronimo_Custodis_-_Portrait_of_Sir_John_Harrington.Jpeg">Hieronymus Custodis</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=644&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=644&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=644&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=809&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=809&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267192/original/file-20190402-177171-1mcbd97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=809&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">English actor Kit Harington plays Jon Snow on the series ‘Game Of Thrones.’</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/14/Kit_Harington_%28March_2013%29.jpg">Suzi Pratt/Wikimedia</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Genealogy on my mother’s side shows relations to the storied court of Queen Elizabeth I in Shakespeare’s England and the current cast of “Game of Thrones.” “<a href="https://www.hbo.com/game-of-thrones">Games of Thrones</a>” star <a href="https://www.thevintagenews.com/2018/04/16/jon-snow-kit-harington/">Kit Harington</a> (Jon Snow, King in the North) is a <a href="https://archive.org/details/KGO_20140219_073500_Jimmy_Kimmel_Live/start/2940/end/3000">multiple great-grandson</a> of Sir John Harington (1560-1612) – a godson to Queen Elizabeth I and a member of her court. Sir John is also one of my multiple great-grandfathers. I hereby give a shout-out to Cousin Kit. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.historytoday.com/archive/death-sir-john-harington">Sir John invented</a> the <a href="http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2010/08/why-the-toilet-is-sometimes-called-a-john/">first flush toilet</a> and is why some folks call the toilet “the John.” However, I care more about his literary accomplishments. For example, in 1615 he published a book, “Epigrams Both Pleasant and Serious.” This included the noted: “On Treason – Treason doth never prosper, what’s the reason? For it to prosper, none dare call it treason.” He also wrote the saying “Love me, love my dog,” which comes from a poem Sir John wrote for my ninth great-grandmother seeking to apologize for striking her little dog. He is better known for his translation of Ludovico Ariosto’s (1474-1533) “<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/56/Ariosto_Orlando_Furioso_Harington_Title_Page.jpg">Orlando Furioso</a>.” </p>
<p>Before I dwell too much on my relationship to Sir John, I do wonder what he and I really do share, genetically speaking. (My own expertise in genetics arose from <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12076890">research</a> I did related to cigarette smoking.)</p>
<h2>DNA, Sir John and me</h2>
<p>Genetic tests were among the <a href="https://bgr.com/2018/12/22/dna-test-deals-last-minute-christmas-sale/">hottest gifts of 2017 and 2018</a>. They may scratch much the same intellectual itch as genealogy, but with a sometimes misleading sheen of scientific surety. </p>
<p>On average each person shares about 25 percent of their DNA with each grandparent. My third great-grandmother, Polly Harrington (1804-1856), is my most recent Harington by name. On average we would likely share – given the imperfect nature of these predictions – about 3.13 percent of our DNA. By the fifth great-grandparents, 128 ancestors have contributed to an individual’s DNA, causing each person’s share to drop below 1 percent (0.78 percent). </p>
<p>Estimates of inheritance from ancestors depend on the model used. By one model, <a href="https://genetics.thetech.org/ask/ask445">I share an average</a> of only 0.049 percent of DNA with my 2,048 ninth great-grandparents. But if this were not little enough to call nothing, <a href="https://gcbias.org/2013/11/04/how-much-of-your-genome-do-you-inherit-from-a-particular-ancestor/">another genetic model</a> shows a 50-50 chance of the shared DNA being nothing. Nevertheless, I will cling to my assumed inheritance of 0.049 percent from Sir John.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=358&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=358&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=358&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/267152/original/file-20190402-177184-19d01d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">This shows how the number of great-grandparents double with each generation as one goes back in time. Each dot stands for one grandparent. Sir John appears as one red X among a horde of 2,048 ninth great-grandparents.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Lynn Kozlowski</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Descendants can guess playfully which ancestor gave them a particular trait. Sir John is the only writer I know of in my family. So, perhaps I owe to him a speck of credit for my literary accomplishments, like my <a href="http://ravennapress.com/books/historical-markers/">book</a> of short fiction. My genetic work and my writing even collided in a dramatic monologue “<a href="https://buffalo.app.box.com/s/yprhz2i11snztxc0l8basvrgftee4btt">The DNA Bank: Expressing the Risks for Purposes of Informed Consent</a>,” which was published online in the now defunct <a href="https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(98)90308-7/fulltext">HMS Beagle</a>. This monologue was translated into Icelandic and <a href="https://soundcloud.com/dunganon/dna-bankinn">performed</a> on Icelandic State Radio in December 1998 to mark the passage of landmark <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeCODE_genetics">legislation</a> for genetic testing on the Icelandic population.</p>
<p>In Sir John’s day and for centuries thereafter first-born males enjoyed the fullest benefits of the <a href="https://www.stylist.co.uk/people/feminism/duke-of-westminster-jane-austen-downton-abbey-feminism-feminist-primogeniture-inheritance-law-monarchy-aristocracy-abolish-debate/10554">inheritance</a> of property, position and privilege. Lesser sons or any daughters were, if not completely out of luck, at least lower in luck. My path from Sir John began with a younger son. He was first in the New World in 1630 and drowned in Boston Harbor very soon after he got there. Next followed two second sons in a row. Sadly, the dimmed luster of my Haringtonian heritage, rife with minor sons and ending in a daughter, may add social distance between me and Cousin Kit, son of Sir David Harington, 15th Baronet. </p>
<h2>Genealogical acts of faith</h2>
<p>The genealogical world is a world without secret affairs, informally adopted children, or any shadow of reproductive misbehavior. And surviving records of many years ago can be sketchy. It can be hard to know which John or Richard with a common last name and living in the same county at the same time is the one to be following. As one claws back to earlier and earlier generations, the odds of mistakes in records, whether innocent or intended, keep increasing.</p>
<p>Adding human error to the ever shrinking share of DNA, the main contribution from one’s alleged older ancestors may be to conversation.</p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/266895/original/file-20190401-177184-1nbmce0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Title Page of Ariosto’s ‘Orlando Furioso,’ which was translated by Sir John Harington. The engraving is by Thomas Cockson.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/56/Ariosto_Orlando_Furioso_Harington_Title_Page.jpg">Wikimedia</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>I can imagine now, knowing what I know, I could purchase an antique edition of Harington’s “Orlando Furioso” and place it in an auspicious spot on a bookshelf in my living room. I could hang Sir John’s portrait over the bookcase. </p>
<p>I would organize a dinner party, including Cousin Kit among the invitees. None of my few first cousins on my mother’s side with whom I share an average of 12.5 percent DNA would be invited. I actually don’t know these people or where they live. </p>
<p>I could explain to guests over hors d'oeuvres that the book before them was translated by my ninth great-grandfather whose portrait hangs above the bookcase. He was a knight and a godson to Queen Elizabeth I, and also a multiple great-grandfather to “Game of Thrones” star, Kit Harington – who could not make it tonight.</p>
<p>And the savvy guest could say, “What’s for dinner?”</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/114120/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lynn T. Kozlowski has received funding from the National Institutes of Health.</span></em></p>
Before you attribute a trait to a famous ancestor like George Washington or Marie Antoinette, you might want to see how much DNA you actually share with these people. It’s not what you thought.
Lynn T. Kozlowski, Professor, Department of Community Health and Health Behavior, University at Buffalo
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/111604
2019-02-27T19:16:17Z
2019-02-27T19:16:17Z
Mary, Queen of Scots is newly relevant in the age of #MeToo
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260873/original/file-20190225-26162-1hn6nnw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Saoirse Ronan as Mary Stuart in Josie Rourke's 2018 film Mary Queen of Scots.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2328900/mediaviewer/rm155744000">Liam Daniel/Focus Features</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>The dramatic life of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots is a hot topic in popular culture. Josie Rourke’s 2018 film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2328900/?ref_=ttmi_tt">Mary Queen of Scots</a> has reached wide audiences, while the Sydney Theatre Company play <a href="https://www.sydneytheatre.com.au/whats-on/productions/2019/mary-stuart?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIts_17_jX4AIVgwsrCh332AADEAAYASAAEgIiH_D_BwE">Mary Stuart</a> is playing to packed houses. What fuels this interest in a queen who died over 400 years ago?</p>
<p>As the differing treatments of her life in the film and play demonstrate, Mary Stuart is a figure open to opposing interpretations of what it means to be a powerful woman. They explore deeply held cultural anxieties over what might happen if a woman holds the role of head of state, which resonate today.</p>
<p>She was queen of France through marriage in her teenage years, then returned to Scotland in 1561 to rule as queen by birth. Her Scottish reign was initially successful, but errors in managing the powerful factions and religious divides of her court and nation led to a series of disastrous events in 1567.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=799&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=799&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=799&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260869/original/file-20190225-26149-2vx5s4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Mary Queen of Scots, oil on canvas, 17th century (artist unknown).</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mary_Queen_of_Scots_Blairs_Museum.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Following the murder of her second husband, Lord Darnley, she quickly married one of his supposed killers, Lord Bothwell. She was then driven from the throne and forced to abdicate. Fleeing to England, Mary sought protection from her Protestant cousin and fellow queen, Elizabeth I.</p>
<p>But instead of finding refuge, she was kept under house arrest in England for 19 years, before she was publicly beheaded in 1587 for treason.</p>
<p>If this colourful history were not enough, portrayals of Mary Stuart since the Renaissance have been sharply divided.</p>
<p>Catholic defences viewed her as an innocent victim of scheming and powerful men, wholly virtuous and martyr to the Catholic cause. Protestant attacks viewed her as an adulterer and murderer, driven by private passion to abandon her realm. </p>
<p>This polarised view of Mary’s reign has persisted over centuries. Biographers in the 19th century, such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agnes_Strickland">Agnes Strickland</a>, used the queen as an example of why women’s “feminine” qualities conflicted with their ability to exercise power. They were seen as too weak, or too irresponsible. Mary’s short and disastrous life as queen of Scots is often contrasted with Elizabeth I’s long and peaceful reign, making Elizabeth the exception rather than the rule.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/mary-queen-of-scots-was-a-poet-and-you-should-know-it-29645">Mary, Queen of Scots was a poet – and you should know it</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In 2019, the question of whether women have the capacity to be successful leaders is still contested. Hillary Clinton, with years of political experience, was defeated by Donald Trump, with none, in the 2016 US election. In Australia, Deputy Prime Minister Julie Bishop was not put forward to lead the Liberal Party and nation in a recent leadership spill, despite her qualifications.</p>
<h2>Two very different stories</h2>
<p>In Josie Rourke’s film, we see a sophisticated and beautiful queen (played by Saoirse Ronan) who is ruled by the heart: falling in love with the handsome Lord Darnley (Jack Lowden) in an unwise match that leads to the murders and schemes eventually forcing her abdication.</p>
<p>Mary’s passionate reign is contrasted with Elizabeth’s icy political acumen. Mary Stuart has a lover and a son but no kingdom, while Elizabeth (Margot Robbie) is lonely and barren but successful. Each wants what the other has and is obsessed by personal rivalry with the other. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QEC-F8cBD9s?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Mary Queen of Scots (2018) trailer.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The message the film sends is not only that women cannot have it all, but if they do exercise power they will be derailed by jealousy and caught up in trivial power struggles. It ends with an image of a male king, Mary’s son James (Andrew Rothney), uniting England and Scotland in peaceful prosperity once Elizabeth and Mary’s exhausting personal battle is over. </p>
<p>This provides a deeply conservative take on women’s ability to exercise power responsibly and to balance emotional, familial and workplace demands. Set in the past, it suggests that this is a universal story: that women are unsuited to leadership and unable to govern themselves and others. It forms part of a wider political backlash against women’s potential in positions of authority.</p>
<p>By contrast, Kate Mulvany’s adaptation of the 19th century play Mary Stuart, originally by Friedrich Schiller, tells a very different story of women’s leadership. The two queens are initially opposed, with Mary (played by Caroline Brazier) isolated in prison and Elizabeth (Helen Thomson) surrounded by male courtiers at the height of her power.</p>
<p>But the play slowly uncovers their shared experiences in a society where power is everywhere held by men. It provides a sympathetic, but not sanitised, treatment of women’s experience of leadership, friendship and rivalry. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260866/original/file-20190225-26149-1s53tcq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Helen Thomson as Elizabeth I and Caroline Brazier as Mary Stuart in STC’s Mary Stuart. The play presents both queens as complex women.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Brett Boardman</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Both queens are portrayed as complex women of intelligence, wit, courage and humour. Mary’s relationship with her jailer Paulet (Simon Burke) gives a sense of her warmth and bravery in the face of deprivation and illness, and her exchanges with the militant Mortimer (Fayssal Bazzi) reveal her strategic and political power even in confinement. </p>
<p>Elizabeth is similarly seen to be confident in the exercise of her authority, playing mercilessly with the ambitions of the French ambassador to marry her to his king, and engaged in a spectrum of relationships with her courtiers, from intimacy to reciprocal ties of duty and care.</p>
<p>The third act brings the queens together. If Mary is first Elizabeth’s echo, submissive and secondary, they move through shared points of connection until Mary becomes the aggressor, claiming her right to the English throne. Key to their alignment is their experience of sexual abuse by men: Elizabeth as a 14-year-old raped by her stepfather, Mary by her Scottish husbands (at least as the play tells it). </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/260868/original/file-20190225-26184-19t1fh7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Caroline Brazier in Sydney Theatre Company’s new production of Mary Stuart.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Brett Boardman</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In the final scene, both recite the same prayer, Elizabeth in the vernacular English of Protestantism and Mary in the Latin of Catholicism, while their maid sings a version of Greensleeves that concludes “all are in captivity”.</p>
<p>The experience of these queens is the experience of so many women, as the #MeToo movement has shown. At a time when the disenfranchised are seen to be both victims and agents in speaking out against sexual abuse, the story of Mary Stuart takes on new relevance. </p>
<p>Rather than exceptions, or polarised versions of idealised and vilified femininity, the queens are at once victims and agents, disempowered and empowered, flawed and inspiring. </p>
<p>The retelling of Mary Stuart’s history in popular forms can repeat and reinforce old stories about women and power. But it can also break these open, reaching into the past to imagine new and complex ways in which women might be leaders: at once vulnerable and flawed, strategic and successful.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/111604/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Rosalind Smith receives funding from the Australian Research Council for a Discovery Project on early modern women and the poetry of complaint. The project considers poetry by Mary Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I, among others, and links early modern women's writing to contemporary cultures of complaint.</span></em></p>
Was Mary Stuart a passionate and jealous failed queen, or a brave and complex woman? Opposing representations in a new film and play reflect modern anxieties about women’s agency and leadership.
Rosalind Smith, Professor and Acting PVC Research and Innovation, University of Newcastle, University of Newcastle
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.