From: "Andy Robertson"
Subject: Re: (urth) Recollect ther craws, bucky? Date: Wed, 13 Nov 2002 21:50:34 -0000 Ah! Another link! I had not made the MacBeth connection. But by an odd coincidence, this is the second time that play has come up in two days. Last night I was singing in a folk club, and I sang Tom O'Bedlam From ye hagg & hungry Goblin, Yt into raggs would rend yee, & ye spirit yt stand's by ye naked man, in ye booke of moones defend yee That of your fiue sounde sences, you neuer be forsaken, Nor wander from your selues with Tom, abroad to begg your bacon while I doe sing any foode any feeding, feedinge drinke or clothing, Come dame or maid, be not afraid, poore Tom will iniure nothing. Of thirty bare yeares haue I twice twenty bin enraged, & of forty bin three tymes fifteene in durance soundlie caged, On ye lordlie loftes of Bedlam with Stubble soft & dainty, braue braceletts Strong, sweet whips ding dong with wholsome hunger plenty, & nowe I sing &c: With a thought I tooke for Maudline & a cruse of cockle pottage. with a thing thus tall, skie blesse you all: I befell into this dotage. I slept not since the Conquest till then I neuer waked, Till ye rogysh boy of loue where I lay mee found & strip't mee naked. & nowe I sing &c: When I short haue shorne my sowce face & swigg'd my horny barrell, In an oken Inne I pound my skin as a suite of guilt apparrell, The moon's my constant Mistresse & the lowlie owie my morrowe. The flaming Drake and ye Nightcrowe make mee musicke to my sorrowe. while I doe sing &c: The palsie plagues my pulses when I prigg yor: piggs or pullen your culuers take, or matchles make your Chanticleare or sullen, When I want prouant th Humfrie I sup, & when benighted, I repose in Powles wth waking soules, Yet neuer am affrighted. But I doe sing &c: I knowe more then Apollo, for oft when hee ly's sleeping I see ye starrs att bloudie warres in ye wounded welkin weeping, The moone embrace her shepheard & ye queene of loue her warryer, while ye first doth horne, ye star of morne: & ye next ye heauenly Farrier. While I doe singe &c: The Gipsie snap & Pedro are none of Toms Comradoes, ye punck I skorne, & ye cutpurse sworn & ye roring boyes brauadoes, The meeke ye white the gentle, mee handle touch, & spare not but those yt crosse Tom Rynosseross doe what ye Panther dare not. Although I sing &c: with an hoast of furious fancies whereof I am comaunder, with a burning speare, & a horse of aire, to the wildernesse I wander. By a knight of ghostes & shadowes, I sumon'd am to Tourney. ten leagues beyond the wide worlds end mee thinke it is noe iourney. yet will I sing &c: Some people asked me afterwards, and I was able to point out the Macbeth connection here: "poor Tom's a-cold", and so forth. Indeed Pig and Silk are in their different ways very like Abraham-men, professional wandering madmen. hartshorn ----- Original Message ----- From: "Charles Reed" To: Sent: Wednesday, November 13, 2002 9:12 PM Subject: Re: (urth) Recollect ther craws, bucky? > Thanks for the pointer, hartshorn. It allowed me to find the answer to > my question. Not that anybody else is interested, but the answer is > that in chapter 10 of RttW, as Horn and Pig are entering Viron, we have > the following exchange: > > Just then a flock of crows passed overhead, wheeling > and cawing; hearing them, Pig asked, "What're they sayin', > bucky? Yer h'always ken what H'oreb's says, sae what > h'about those?" > He looked to the skylands, and seemed for a moment to > have forgotten his companions and himself. "'Tomorrow, > tomorrow, tomorrow.' I think they mean I'll find Silk > tomorrow, though I've found him already; but they may also > mean you'll find new eyes tomorrow. I hope so." > > It's just Pig asking whether Horn still thinks still thinks they'll find > what they're looking for tomorrow. Not profound, but it's still nice to > know what that passage means. It's also rather touching, as if a child > were asking its parent whether everything's going to be all right. > > Of course, nothing's really that simple is it? I love Wolfe's writing > because the more work you put into it, the more you get out of it: > Horn's interpretation of the crows' cawing strongly echoes the words of > that short-lived Scottish king who had just been informed that his wife > was dead: > > She should have died hereafter; > There would have been a time for such word. > To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, > Creeps in this petty pace from day to day > To the last syllable of recorded time, > And all our yesterdays have lighted fools > The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! > Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player > That struts and frets his hour upon the stage > And then is heard no more: it is a tale > Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury > Signifying nothing. > > I'm not exactly sure how Macbeth's tale resonates with Horn and Silk's, > but another quotation is illuminating: > > MACBETH > How does your patient, doctor? > > DOCTOR > Not so sick, my lord, > As she is troubled with thick coming fancies, > That keep her from her rest. > > MACBETH > Cure her of that. > Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, > Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, > Raze out the written troubles of the brain > And with some sweet oblivious antidote > Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff > Which weighs upon the heart? > > DOCTOR > Therein the patient > Must minister to himself. > > But this is exactly what had happened to Silk, isn't it? He was in > absolute despair over the death of Hyacinth. His spirit, according to > the Neighbor who helped Horn on Green, was dying. Even so, the infusion > of Horn's spirit into his body successfully (at least temporarily) did > in fact pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow and cleanse his stuff'd > bosom of that perilous stuff which weighed upon it. > > Very nice. > > Charles > > > > Andy Robertson wrote: > > > I think craws = crows, which took a part earlier: I can't entirely > > remember > > what > > > > hartshorn > > > > > > > > ---- Original Message ----- > > From: "Charles Reed" > > To: "urth" > > Sent: Wednesday, November 13, 2002 2:34 PM > > Subject: (urth) Recollect ther craws, bucky? > > > > > >> Hello everyone. > >> > >> I'm not a complete stranger here, but I haven't been a frequent > >> participant, either. Still, I was hoping that somebody could help me > >> out. I've just completed my second reading of the Short Sun books and > >> have at least one question that I haven't been able to figure out. > >> Allow me to set the stage: > >> > >> At the very end of Chapter 12 in RttW, Horn finally arrived at Ermine's > >> after several interesting adventures (visiting the Sun Street manteion, > >> meeting and having a drink with his father, being waylaid by Olivine at > >> the Calde's palace and taken into the palace through a secret gate, > >> visiting the room he and Nettle stayed in for a short time (I think), > >> bathing and getting clean clothes, shriving and then receiving an eye > >> from Olivine). Patera Gulo had been at Ermine's ahead of him, looking > >> for Silk, but all that Horn wanted to do was to lie down. After > >> sleeping for a bit, and making sure that Hound and Pig were asleep, he > >> slipped out of the room and headed downstairs to the garden fountain > >> "where Thelx holds up a mirror." He then went back to the Calde's > >> palace to get his walking stick before going back to the room. Upon > >> entering the room, we have the following exchange: > >> > >> As he put the key back into the lock, Pig asked sleepily, "Recollect > >> ther craws, bucky?" > >> It took a moment. "Why, yes. Yes, I do, Pig." > >> "Still say ther same?" > >> > >> And that's the end of the chapter. I've puzzled and puzzled over this > >> passage, but I can't figure out what it means. Can any of you shed any > >> light on this for me? > >> > >> Charles (still mulling over Vironese names, but leaning toward "Whisker") > >> > >> > >> -- > >> > >> > > > > > > > > -- > > --