Summer Reading by Dottie Boerner

While Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall, my recommendation for docent summer reading is not the usual light fare, it is a “page turner.” This historical fiction won the 2009 Booker Prize, given to the best contemporary British fiction. Mantel’s recreation of sixteenth century London is so vivid and immediate that you feel you are living alongside the hero, Thomas Cromwell.
Cromwell was a self-made man if ever there was one, who rose to become Henry VIII’ right hand councilor, chief fixer and Lord Chancellor. He escaped from his brute of a blacksmith father to the continent where he was first a soldier, then a tradesman and artisan. En route he became an accomplished linguist. He also devised a memory system in order to retain all he learned. His intelligence, diplomacy, calm temperament and continual hard work were the foundation of his prosperity.
As the head of his own thriving household, he expanded his family to include the sons of poor relations and orphans whom he raised and trained in his management style. But even he is helpless before the toll the plague exacts on his family.
Through Cromwell’s wide ranging tastes, Mantel delves into the details of domestic life at that time. He has an eye for beautiful craftsmanship, especially in woven tapestries and cloth. A gourmet, he knows where to find the best provisions and how to train the cook to do them justice.
Mantel touches on the hot button issues of the day as Cromwell experiences them. First is the tension between the king and the Pope and Cardinal Wolsey, chief prelate in England, and Cromwell’s first patron, over the king’s desire to have his marriage to Queen Katharine annulled. Then there is the king’s passion for Anne Boleyn, who emerges as an unpleasant schemer.
As a logical, practical man, Cromwell secretly sympathizes with the nascent Protestant movement, which though branded as “heresy,” was favored by his City merchant friends. A dark thread in the book is the cruelty of the executions, especially burning at the stake as punishment for heresy.
Cromwell nimbly navigates the treacherous terrain of the court of Henry VIII, where the Boleyn family is in the ascendancy and tensions are high between them and the courtiers who are currently out of favor. Mantel describes the edginess of life at court, where the king has the power to create one peer and bankrupt another at a snap of his fingers.
The novel ends in 1535, in midstream, so to speak, when Henry VIII has just begun to confiscate Catholic religious property and assert himself as head of the church in England, and Anne Boleyn is still his queen. Princess Elizabeth is a baby being raised away from the court at Hatfield, where her half-sister, Mary, also resides. Henry is still hoping for a male heir.
If you read the novel, please let me know, Why is it titled Wolf Hall? And do you have recommendations for further reading about Henry VIII?

TO SING OR NOT TO SING: WHAT A QUESTION!

by Gina Guglielmo

The Washington National Opera is premiering Abroise Thomas’ opera Hamlet from May 19th to June 4, and for those who are in thrall to the Enigmatic Dane and the whirling world of words that surround him, the music of this opera will enhance one’s understanding of the play through the emotional channels of voice and orchestra and discover a transformed Prince through the emendations of the words and plot by Thomas’ two librettists, Michele Carre and Jules Barbier.

What sacrilege one might think, sputtering; who is this Jules fellow and his bon ami, Michele, to tamper with the holy text of The Prince of Denmark? Well, hold on to your leotard. If Shakespeare was asked to do his play so it would appeal to the King of Thailand, and he could add some ducats to his “House in Stratford Fund,” he would have jumped at it. Aside from the bowdlerized version of the 18th C where the play ends sort of happily with a few less corpses lying about, present day directors and actors (especially cinematography actors/directors) do not scruple to move a scene here, omit a character or two there, dress Hamlet in Star Trek garb and make Gertrud look like Hamlet’s older sister
Yet, this ‘Amlet drops more than just the “h” in the protagonist’s name. For example, Act I does not take place on Elsinore’s battlements as the opening challenge “Who’s there?” proclaims the thematic mantra. Instead it opens with a wedding: THE wedding where the funeral leftovers were recycled for the bridal banquet. The happy Danish populace (despite the Iron Curtain ambiance) is dancing in the aisles. Hamlet is wearing Ray bans and a three-piece suit as he barely suppresses his fury in the reception line. Polonius may as well be a mime in this opera, a rather enormous change; he doesn’t wise talk his son, and in a major reversal, the old man was in on the murder as was the Queen which renders both characters as ruthless as opposed to the flawed but loving parent figures in the play. The uxorious Claudius several times tells Gert to shape up, act like a Queen, button the lip. Furthermore, she is still alive. and whimpering as the final curtain falls. This merits a double boo since she gains some points when she drinks the poison goblet (I think on purpose) to save her son.

Young Fortinbras, the character every director loves to cut, is so cut, his name is not even dropped. Yorrick’s skull----also gone. The big duel scene Act V takes place now in the cemetery where Hamlet simply plugs Laertes---bang, bang you’re dead-- since he threatens to kill Hamlet who is under orders from the Ghost to finish his task pronto. Dutiful son that he is, he offs Claudius and the play comes to a clashing end as a firing squad takes aim at him from above. No, no, Horatio does not cradle and bid his sweet Prince goodnight. To speak the truth, Horatio was hard to pick out having been cloned with Marcello and Francesco. Finally, that meddling knave Polonius, who Hamlet ran through as he was making a pain in the arras of himself in the Queen’s bedroom, is also part of the graveside massacre.

Having just played the Prosecuting Attorney to consign this faux Hamlet to the dust heap, let me now switch to the Defense and bring in my star witness: the music.

The overtures and interludes are such beautiful tone poems, they define and underline the tragedy as it unfolds. The evocative surtitles as the first notes of the orchestra sounded were excerpted from Act I’ “Cast thy nighted color off, ” and “ Your father lost a father. . .” Hamlet is a baritone in Thomas’ work, a voice better suited to his utterances than the visceral tenor sound, and as soon as the character began to sing, the intensity and depth of his struggle was clearly defined. Only a few of the soliloquies are set to music: “To be, or not to be” was an aria suffused with sadness and loss: one of the best moments of the opera.
Ophelia’s role is very enlarged in the opera: we know that no self-respecting Prima Donna is going to simper to her father and brother and go gentle into that good stream . If she didn’t die so early, the title could have borne her name. This rejected maiden sang up a storm; she still hasn’t a clue why her prince all of a sudden avoids her like a rotting herring, and Gertrude – trying to cover her trail, keeps insisting that they get married. She even has a priest waiting in the wings. Indeed, Hamlet’s rejection of her is totally inexplicable since she does not lie to him about Polonius, nor does he connect her with all perfidious women. In fact, when he tells her “Get thee to a nunnery” he says it kindly because there she can find peace away from the world. Paradoxically, all this upheaval makes for some harmonious duets and trios with Claudius and his Queen trying to sort out whether they’ve been caught pouring the poison in the late king’s ear.
Lest it seem that the defense of the music is slipping, let me bring forth Act IV as a witness. Ophelia gets a whole act to herself to run around the banks of the stream and scatter rosemary and pansies and especially rue. After she falls into the water, singing glorious trills and accomplishing dramatic vocal leaps, she reappears (after an annoying five-minutes scene change) ensconced in a cloud behind broken fragments of ice. It was startling but luminous as she sings of being with Hamlet again. Too bad opera houses are not equipped with video- game technology.

The play’s the thing, and that thang is dramatic poetry. Opera is musical drama; the words are often secondary to the melody. Only in the great last operas of Verdi, Otello and Falstaff, did the music of the maestro match the genius of the playwright.
It seems I just rested my case.

What the Folgers Demolished

From Mike Neuman:

The most recent Capitol Hill Restoration Society News (Feb. 2010) contains an item of interest to docents. Included in Beth Purcell's "Photographs of Capitol Hill" is the following description of what preceded the FSL on East Capitol Street:

"In 1871, Albert Grant built 'Grant's Row' on the 200 block of East Capitol Street. These were some of the most expensive rowhouses built in the city during that time. Grant expected a demand for expensive houses on Capitol Hill. Instead, DuPont Circle became the fashionable neighborhood, and there was little demand for the Grant's Row houses.
They were sold to the Phoenix Life Insurance Co. Henry Folger, President of the Standard Oil Co., bought Grant's Row in 1928. In 1929, the houses were demolished to build the Folger Theater [sic]."

From the online site of the Historical Society of Washington (www. historydc.org), I obtained the image of Grant's Row in the attached one-slide PowerPoint presentation.

(this Power Point Presentation has been uploaded to Docents' Google Docs storage: http://docs.google.com - login as docents@folger.edu, password: FSLd0cents)