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www.wordsofobscurity.com
Home Page ~ Word List Index ~ Featured Lists
Obscure, Rare, Unusual and Obsolete
Logophile Language, Writing and Words Knowledge, Intellect, Deep and Profound
Creativity and Technology
Dark, Mystical, Supernatural and Risqué
Human Psyche, Emotions & Feelings
The Universe and World We Live In
Translating our World | Translating our Slang
Reference Corner - library for language & words
FEATURED LISTS WITH COMMENTARY
Pondering the Phobia | Pirate Story & Language
DIRECTORY OF LANGUAGE and WORDS
Logophile | Words | Obscure | Writing | Speech Literature | Poetry | Rhetoric | Grammar | Vocab Reference Reads | Top 10 Lists | Language Home
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An Exploration of the Elizabethan Age LANGUAGE CONTRIBUTIONS
DIRECTORY OF WORD LISTS
Golden Age of Elizabethan English
Golden Era Lexicon | Golden Era Alphabet
Shakespearean Lexicon |His Writing Devices
Words | Word Fails | Expressions | Idioms
Narrative of a Logophile Bardolatry
bardolatry refers to Shakespearean mania
RELATED POSTS
The Humor of a Shakespearean Insult
Shakespearean Translation of Star Trek ?
Golden Age of Elizabethan English
Golden Era Lexicon | Golden Era Alphabet
Shakespearean Lexicon |His Writing Devices
Words | Word Fails | Expressions | Idioms
Narrative of a Logophile Bardolatry
bardolatry refers to Shakespearean mania
RELATED POSTS
The Humor of a Shakespearean Insult
Shakespearean Translation of Star Trek ?
THE STORY OF A LOGOPHILE
BARDOLATRY
A PERSONAL NARRATIVE
Join me on a personal journey in the Warwickshire countryside for a narrative on my most treasured memory in a life driven by the passion for the
beauty of language and words.
Setting: January 1993 - London and Warwickshire, ENGLAND
beauty of language and words.
Setting: January 1993 - London and Warwickshire, ENGLAND
It was the winter of 1993 and I was a young eager American student jetting off to London at barely 19; on my own for a life changing experience that was driven by passion, curiosity and a world beyond my backyard that I lived vicariously through the pages of my books. My destination was Regents University, a picturesque British university set right in the middle of Regents Park which was just steps away from the home of the fictional sleuth Sherlock Holmes on the famous Baker Street.
My goal was two semesters studying the literature I loved in the city and country I descend from and had been drawn to from a very young age. England flows through my blood on my father’s side and seeing the country of his father’s birth formed my profound connection with the land and lead to my self-identification as an Anglophile.
My course of study the first year was independently lead and I was free to choose my thesis project from hundreds of years of literary brilliance produced by the most prolific writers in English history. It was an easy choice for me as I loved the Elizabethan era that came bursting out of the scrolls of William Shakespeare and enacted on the stage of the famed Globe Theatre.
My course of study the first year was independently lead and I was free to choose my thesis project from hundreds of years of literary brilliance produced by the most prolific writers in English history. It was an easy choice for me as I loved the Elizabethan era that came bursting out of the scrolls of William Shakespeare and enacted on the stage of the famed Globe Theatre.
My fascination with the Elizabethan language come directly from the words eternally preserved in the pages of Hamlet, King Lear and Romeo and Juliet and in every line of each of the 154 sonnets Shakespeare produced. His words transcend time and to this day we study the meanings, themes and the poetic structure and form that complete his much treasured folio of storytelling.
Shakespeare in performance was another facet for expression of this language, I studied literary analysis so my focus was always more on the written words. But my thesis was a comparative look at his work in print and in performance.
My focus was on understanding the nuance of meaning between the two vastly difference interpretations of his words.
I am a divergent thinker who intellectualizes writing within my own understanding and one with an imagination for depicting the scenes the way I envision them to be, I naturally leaned towards a better experience through independent reading. However my focus in this course was to freely examine both the script and the performance as equally - and without bias - to determine the results with logic and reason and not my personal preference.
In the end my interpretations of his work made my experience more meaningful to me because the words invoked more emotion than the more linear visual presentation did. I am more affected by stories that I can be immersed in action myself through mental visualization. This has always been my way of enjoying stories. To this day TV, plays and movies pale in comparison to a book. It really was a fascinating comparative study of two different interpretations of the same words. I had two distinctly different experiences.
All in all plays are meant to be enjoyed in two distinct manners. In self discovery and as pure entertainment. Both offer their own benefits but both are always subjective.
I chose three plays - one tragedy, a comedy and a drama and I set out on my first journey through the English countryside to the different playhouses performing them.
This narrative is one distinct experience and a treasured memory for me outside of any collegiate requirement. Let me share my memory and you’ll see my journey as a young girl passionate for the beauty of language and words.
See Also: Words and Expressions of Shakespeare
Shakespeare in performance was another facet for expression of this language, I studied literary analysis so my focus was always more on the written words. But my thesis was a comparative look at his work in print and in performance.
My focus was on understanding the nuance of meaning between the two vastly difference interpretations of his words.
- Could the reader and the viewer have two separate yet equally profound experiences in the delivery of his words?
- Which form was more impactful on the emotions of the participant?
- Was the intellectual connection deeper when one interprets the work in their own mind - with creative thought and self imagery - or is it more effective if the words ate expressed through the human voice in a performance as directed?
I am a divergent thinker who intellectualizes writing within my own understanding and one with an imagination for depicting the scenes the way I envision them to be, I naturally leaned towards a better experience through independent reading. However my focus in this course was to freely examine both the script and the performance as equally - and without bias - to determine the results with logic and reason and not my personal preference.
In the end my interpretations of his work made my experience more meaningful to me because the words invoked more emotion than the more linear visual presentation did. I am more affected by stories that I can be immersed in action myself through mental visualization. This has always been my way of enjoying stories. To this day TV, plays and movies pale in comparison to a book. It really was a fascinating comparative study of two different interpretations of the same words. I had two distinctly different experiences.
- The personification of his characters were vastly different because my visualization was based on my imagination and not the character who brought life to the part.
- What I had to stress was that the character on stage is bound by the restrictive environment with art direction, costuming, physical appearance and stage settings dependent on the director’s interpretation. That removed the personal connection by replacing it with arbitrary variables.
- One production could be the polar opposite of the other because they are subjective to the creativity of two separate individuals in performance direction. Psychologically I did not want to be influenced by someone’s presentation of the character I have already envisioned in my own way.
All in all plays are meant to be enjoyed in two distinct manners. In self discovery and as pure entertainment. Both offer their own benefits but both are always subjective.
I chose three plays - one tragedy, a comedy and a drama and I set out on my first journey through the English countryside to the different playhouses performing them.
This narrative is one distinct experience and a treasured memory for me outside of any collegiate requirement. Let me share my memory and you’ll see my journey as a young girl passionate for the beauty of language and words.
See Also: Words and Expressions of Shakespeare
Welcome to Warwickshire
I remember that chilly first day climbing aboard a train and feeling that locomotive set off for real literary destinations that I have only explored through reading and the power of my imagination setting the stage in storytelling. This opened up the real and tangible world of stories I was captivated by. Imagine reading and absorbing a story in the very setting it was penned. To be present in the very place the author depicted? It is a surreal moment because it takes you back and you feel like you are part of that story. You are experiencing the very steps the characters took. How wild is that!
There was only one stop on my journey that I choose to bring to life here in this narrative. One moment in time and one memory encoded forever as one of the best experiences in my life. These moments in our lives are the ones we share with others because of a emotional or spiritual effect that the experience had on us. This memory is the trigger of a change in my whole world as I left America a sheltered young girl and traveled through a personal transformation into a more sophisticated young woman who enjoyed an exploration of worldly ideas from exposure to a different life. My trip expanded my world beyond the constraints of my hometown and I grew from the experience because I did it on my own and not through the lens of a camera directed from another influence like family or teachers. It was a personal journey and not really a school trip or family vacation. It was the beginning or the development of my individuality and through the solitary pursuit of my own passions and interests. I was there because I made it possible. My actions, thoughts, choices and and decisions were strictly my own. This can be viewed roughly as a rite of passage.
The town I was seeking was a few hours north of London and was idyllically situated in the grassy hills full of grazing sheep - this view truly defines what the English countryside had looked like for hundreds of years. This was the England of my dreams because that is how I pictured it through reading. The town I traveled to was more of a village or a hamlet - commonly called a market town - nestled next to the Avon river. It was called Stratford upon-Avon.
I was so excited for this one destination I meticulously planned for months prior. I wasn’t setting out blind without a defined plan. When the bell rang signifying my train journey was complete I rushed off excited to be enacting my plan. I did stop briefly in the streets and gazed in wonder at my surroundings. How could I not? These towns are truly beautiful places to view and experience - especially for a city girl who didn’t grow up in a countryside or in an area of such historical importance. But remember I had a plan. So I didn’t linger or sightsee quite yet.
There was only one stop on my journey that I choose to bring to life here in this narrative. One moment in time and one memory encoded forever as one of the best experiences in my life. These moments in our lives are the ones we share with others because of a emotional or spiritual effect that the experience had on us. This memory is the trigger of a change in my whole world as I left America a sheltered young girl and traveled through a personal transformation into a more sophisticated young woman who enjoyed an exploration of worldly ideas from exposure to a different life. My trip expanded my world beyond the constraints of my hometown and I grew from the experience because I did it on my own and not through the lens of a camera directed from another influence like family or teachers. It was a personal journey and not really a school trip or family vacation. It was the beginning or the development of my individuality and through the solitary pursuit of my own passions and interests. I was there because I made it possible. My actions, thoughts, choices and and decisions were strictly my own. This can be viewed roughly as a rite of passage.
The town I was seeking was a few hours north of London and was idyllically situated in the grassy hills full of grazing sheep - this view truly defines what the English countryside had looked like for hundreds of years. This was the England of my dreams because that is how I pictured it through reading. The town I traveled to was more of a village or a hamlet - commonly called a market town - nestled next to the Avon river. It was called Stratford upon-Avon.
I was so excited for this one destination I meticulously planned for months prior. I wasn’t setting out blind without a defined plan. When the bell rang signifying my train journey was complete I rushed off excited to be enacting my plan. I did stop briefly in the streets and gazed in wonder at my surroundings. How could I not? These towns are truly beautiful places to view and experience - especially for a city girl who didn’t grow up in a countryside or in an area of such historical importance. But remember I had a plan. So I didn’t linger or sightsee quite yet.
Stratford upon-Avon
I knew exactly where I was headed on my trip that I set in motion months before I even left the US. I had memorized the map for this hamlet and needed no directions so I set off determined to get where I wanted to go. I knew I had time for sightseeing later and that is important because this town as whole has significant literary and historical importance. And the quaint English village - with the aroma of baking bread drifting through the streets - had other attractions I wanted to visit. I walked quickly through the cobblestone streets and then down around a curve in the river Avon that encircled the town.
Stratford-upon-Avon stands where a Roman road forded the River Avon (Upper Avon), and a 19th-century bridge still spans the river alongside a 15th-century arched stone bridge.
When I turned the final corner of the road I could see my destination right in front of me. What I have read and research came alive in my view that day and I stood there impressed with myself for getting there on my own and meeting this lifetime goal. It is not some grand location or some exciting attraction that regular normal tourists necessarily go hunting for. This aspiration was solely my own. Nobody I knew shared that with me. It carries significance to me and to anyone who shares this passion.
A Holy Destination
It was a stone framed structure of medium stature yet it had height that afforded people in town a picturesque view.
The structure was surrounded by a tall stone barrier that was not made for aesthetics. In fact, parts were crumbling because it was in place for centuries. The barrier enclosed the sacred grounds. It was a cemetery that held the bones of the townspeople from long, long ago. I did look at the stones and was surprised something so old was still erected in place and not decimated by time. It looked like it did centuries ago. I walked quickly because the cemetery was not my destination but I remembered to be respectful of the environment in which I was in.
The structure itself is a centuries old parish Church that is still in use for services today. Surprisingly it’s structure has held up and regular maintenance kept it in good repair. It is a place for worship built with simplicity and clean lines and had a steeple that could be seen from afar. The outside was not adorned with any fancy features. It was simple as it was designed as the church for the working class workers and their families who lived in town. The most striking piece of the building was the door. I had to bend to get through it which is a sign of a times when folks were of a shorter stature. And I am 6 feet tall so bending was a must.
Once I got through I was greeted by a welcoming entryway with seating for waiting parishioners. I could picture people waiting to enter their holy place on Sundays. I glanced around the entry but it was not my focus. My eye was only on the holiest part of the church. The alter or the chancel. Now I am not religious person and in fact am an atheist, however my beliefs had no bearing on the significance of this experience. I am a moral person and grew up in the church so I respected the holy reverence of this place and it’s significance not only a place of worship for believers but it is of profound literary importance to the field.
I entered the doorway leading to the nave and made my way down the aisle. The aisle was bordered on both sides by wooden pews for seating. It was a functioning church and there were some people praying in solitude in those pews. I respectfully and quietly walked past them and made my way to the alter where the Pastor conducts his service. There were choir risers on one side and on the other side a place for the pastoral readings. It was a very simple yet common layout of any church of its size.
As I stepped up to the alter I finally set my eyes on why I was there and what I wanted to bear witness to. In front of me was a monument and it was more elaborate than expected but it paid homage as designed. I will describe it in a moment. Set before the alter lay burial tombs. This was common for people of stature to be buried in a tomb within a church.
But this was no ordinary tomb and this was no ordinary church. This church is called the
Holy Trinity Church. And it is the final resting place of William Shakespeare.
The structure was surrounded by a tall stone barrier that was not made for aesthetics. In fact, parts were crumbling because it was in place for centuries. The barrier enclosed the sacred grounds. It was a cemetery that held the bones of the townspeople from long, long ago. I did look at the stones and was surprised something so old was still erected in place and not decimated by time. It looked like it did centuries ago. I walked quickly because the cemetery was not my destination but I remembered to be respectful of the environment in which I was in.
The structure itself is a centuries old parish Church that is still in use for services today. Surprisingly it’s structure has held up and regular maintenance kept it in good repair. It is a place for worship built with simplicity and clean lines and had a steeple that could be seen from afar. The outside was not adorned with any fancy features. It was simple as it was designed as the church for the working class workers and their families who lived in town. The most striking piece of the building was the door. I had to bend to get through it which is a sign of a times when folks were of a shorter stature. And I am 6 feet tall so bending was a must.
Once I got through I was greeted by a welcoming entryway with seating for waiting parishioners. I could picture people waiting to enter their holy place on Sundays. I glanced around the entry but it was not my focus. My eye was only on the holiest part of the church. The alter or the chancel. Now I am not religious person and in fact am an atheist, however my beliefs had no bearing on the significance of this experience. I am a moral person and grew up in the church so I respected the holy reverence of this place and it’s significance not only a place of worship for believers but it is of profound literary importance to the field.
I entered the doorway leading to the nave and made my way down the aisle. The aisle was bordered on both sides by wooden pews for seating. It was a functioning church and there were some people praying in solitude in those pews. I respectfully and quietly walked past them and made my way to the alter where the Pastor conducts his service. There were choir risers on one side and on the other side a place for the pastoral readings. It was a very simple yet common layout of any church of its size.
As I stepped up to the alter I finally set my eyes on why I was there and what I wanted to bear witness to. In front of me was a monument and it was more elaborate than expected but it paid homage as designed. I will describe it in a moment. Set before the alter lay burial tombs. This was common for people of stature to be buried in a tomb within a church.
But this was no ordinary tomb and this was no ordinary church. This church is called the
Holy Trinity Church. And it is the final resting place of William Shakespeare.
His Monument
That afternoon I stood in awe before the tomb of this great figure in the church of his birthplace in Stratford upon-Avon in the Warwickshire countryside. It was a peaceful resting place for the nation’s most treasured poet. It was simple in design. Standing prominently there was his monument - crafted to memorialize him not just as a poet but as a resident and as the lay-rector of the parish that he had given a hefty donation to. This contribution was the only reason he was permitted to be buried there and alongside some of his family members. However his monument stands in recognition of his achievements and to commemorate his literary status.
The monument stands high on the north wall of the sanctuary of the church, above Shakespeare’s gravestone which is set in the floor beneath. It comprises a half-length effigy in an arch which is set within an architectural frame with Composite columns of polished black marble. Above is an attic storey bearing the coat of arms of the deceased which are carved in low relief. The armorial panel is flanked by two seated figures of naked boys, one with a spade and the other a doused torch and a skull, symbolising work in life and rest in death. A second, larger skull surmounts the coat of arms while below the effigy is a panel on which the inscription is incised in gilt letters. It reads as follows:
The monument stands high on the north wall of the sanctuary of the church, above Shakespeare’s gravestone which is set in the floor beneath. It comprises a half-length effigy in an arch which is set within an architectural frame with Composite columns of polished black marble. Above is an attic storey bearing the coat of arms of the deceased which are carved in low relief. The armorial panel is flanked by two seated figures of naked boys, one with a spade and the other a doused torch and a skull, symbolising work in life and rest in death. A second, larger skull surmounts the coat of arms while below the effigy is a panel on which the inscription is incised in gilt letters. It reads as follows:
INSCRIPTION
STAY PASSENGER, WHY GOEST THOU BY SO FAST,
READ IF THOU CANST, WHOM ENVIOUS DEATH HATH PLAST
WITH IN THIS MONUMENT SHAKESPEARE: WITH WHOME
QUICK NATURE DIDE WHOSE NAME DOTH DECK YS TOMBE
FAR MORE THAN COST: SIEH ALL YT HE HATH WRITT
LEAVES LIVING ART, BUT PAGE, TO SERVE HIS WITT.
OBIIT AŇO DOI1616
AETATIS 53 DIE 23 AP.
READ IF THOU CANST, WHOM ENVIOUS DEATH HATH PLAST
WITH IN THIS MONUMENT SHAKESPEARE: WITH WHOME
QUICK NATURE DIDE WHOSE NAME DOTH DECK YS TOMBE
FAR MORE THAN COST: SIEH ALL YT HE HATH WRITT
LEAVES LIVING ART, BUT PAGE, TO SERVE HIS WITT.
OBIIT AŇO DOI1616
AETATIS 53 DIE 23 AP.
TRANSLATION
Stay Passenger, why goest thou by so fast?
Make out, if thou canst, whom envious Death hath placed with, in this monument, Shakspeare—with whom
living Nature died.
That HE hath writ
leaves Art alive, without a page to serve (up) his wit.
Stay Passenger, why goest thou by so fast?
Make out, if thou canst, whom envious Death hath placed with, in this monument, Shakspeare—with whom
living Nature died.
That HE hath writ
leaves Art alive, without a page to serve (up) his wit.
GRAVESTONE
A Pylian in judgement, a Socrates in genius, a Maro in art
The earth buries him, the people mourn him, Olympus possesses him
Lord 1616, in his 53rd year,
on 23 April
The first line translates as "A Pylian in judgement, a Socrates in genius, a Maro in art," comparing Shakespeare to Nestor the wise King of Pylos, to the Greek philosopher Socrates, and to the Roman poet Virgil (whose last name, or cognomen was Maro). The second reads "The earth buries him, the people mourn him, Olympus possesses him," referring to Mount Olympus, the home of the Greek gods. Finally, his death date was inscribed.
The Curse
What is noteworthy is the famous mystery of a curse Shakespeare himself wrote to be engraved on his tomb. It reads:
Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare,
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be the man that spares these stones, And cursed be he
that moves my bones.
Of course he was known for his dramatic flair. But, relic hunting was popular in Shakespeare’s day, and Shakespeare was aware his status as a leading poet and playwright may have meant his bones would be dug up by one of these hunters.
My journey through the countryside was completed and I stood in awe at his tomb and paid my respects to a major influence who has always been deeply admired and respected as a wordsmith by a girl passionately driven by the beauty of words.
This is one of my most treasured memories in life and it was the crowning moment of a life altering journey and experience that I will never forget. My educational goals were met by my collegiate association with this college in this amazing city of a beloved country. I am an Anglophile but I am also a descendent of a prominent judge of the court system going back to the reign of Mary Queen of Scots. My father’s line traces back to Sir Edmund Anderson and Anderson will always be my connection to my father’s ancestral roots deeply embedded in the soil of a country I am proud to be a part of.
I will never forget that peaceful day and that moment in time in which I had the opportunity to acknowledge and appreciate the contributions and influence that Shakespeare has had on literature as a field but also on a young aspiring writer. I found deep and real meaning to his ideas, through his words and expressions and his understanding of humanity and the complexity of human relationships, self identity and life’s beauty found even in the most fragile, volatile or tragic states of existence. He had a solid grasp of human development, individuality, sexuality, failure, deceit and other character flaws humanizing us all. His ideas were radical and so far ahead of times that he was misunderstood yet he was dedicated to his craft with passion, drive and creativity that transcends time.
To this day hundreds of years later we still study his language, words and storytelling and he remains deeply embedded in literary canon.
My life was not meant to follow a literary track. My education in literature was a passionate pursuit that I ran concurrently with my career educational tract for gainful employment. Both separate experiences meant for separate passions. I was truly blessed to have both these educational pursuits and my creative outlet in writing has benefited from my formal education even though I never earned a penny with that degree. So my early college years afforded me freedom to explore literature and experience it’s contributions to our culture, understanding, intellectual curiosity and our creativity, imagination and the beauty of our language and words.
To this day I remember a wisp of a scent in the air of blossoming flowers for the coming spring. Sometimes I trigger this memory when I am among blossoms of lilacs. And then I remember my carefree youth, my endless curiosity and my love of literature born from the beautiful country of England. I have returned several times over the years but my first trip is in my heart because it was my rite of passage from an innocent, young and curious girl who dreamed of exotic places and who became a woman who has has seen and done more in life than she ever dreamed possible. And that lesson was learned through the pages of every book I have ever read.
RELEVANT LINKS for more information:
This is one of my most treasured memories in life and it was the crowning moment of a life altering journey and experience that I will never forget. My educational goals were met by my collegiate association with this college in this amazing city of a beloved country. I am an Anglophile but I am also a descendent of a prominent judge of the court system going back to the reign of Mary Queen of Scots. My father’s line traces back to Sir Edmund Anderson and Anderson will always be my connection to my father’s ancestral roots deeply embedded in the soil of a country I am proud to be a part of.
I will never forget that peaceful day and that moment in time in which I had the opportunity to acknowledge and appreciate the contributions and influence that Shakespeare has had on literature as a field but also on a young aspiring writer. I found deep and real meaning to his ideas, through his words and expressions and his understanding of humanity and the complexity of human relationships, self identity and life’s beauty found even in the most fragile, volatile or tragic states of existence. He had a solid grasp of human development, individuality, sexuality, failure, deceit and other character flaws humanizing us all. His ideas were radical and so far ahead of times that he was misunderstood yet he was dedicated to his craft with passion, drive and creativity that transcends time.
To this day hundreds of years later we still study his language, words and storytelling and he remains deeply embedded in literary canon.
My life was not meant to follow a literary track. My education in literature was a passionate pursuit that I ran concurrently with my career educational tract for gainful employment. Both separate experiences meant for separate passions. I was truly blessed to have both these educational pursuits and my creative outlet in writing has benefited from my formal education even though I never earned a penny with that degree. So my early college years afforded me freedom to explore literature and experience it’s contributions to our culture, understanding, intellectual curiosity and our creativity, imagination and the beauty of our language and words.
To this day I remember a wisp of a scent in the air of blossoming flowers for the coming spring. Sometimes I trigger this memory when I am among blossoms of lilacs. And then I remember my carefree youth, my endless curiosity and my love of literature born from the beautiful country of England. I have returned several times over the years but my first trip is in my heart because it was my rite of passage from an innocent, young and curious girl who dreamed of exotic places and who became a woman who has has seen and done more in life than she ever dreamed possible. And that lesson was learned through the pages of every book I have ever read.
RELEVANT LINKS for more information:
DIRECTORY OF WORD LISTS
Golden Age of Elizabethan English
Golden Era Lexicon | Golden Era Alphabet
Shakespearean Lexicon |His Writing Devices
Words | Word Fails | Expressions | Idioms
Narrative of a Logophile Bardolatry
bardolatry refers to Shakespearean mania
RELATED POSTS
The Humor of a Shakespearean Insult
Shakespearean Translation of Star Trek ?
Golden Age of Elizabethan English
Golden Era Lexicon | Golden Era Alphabet
Shakespearean Lexicon |His Writing Devices
Words | Word Fails | Expressions | Idioms
Narrative of a Logophile Bardolatry
bardolatry refers to Shakespearean mania
RELATED POSTS
The Humor of a Shakespearean Insult
Shakespearean Translation of Star Trek ?
