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I - not quite shamelessly - am jumping the gun. I will be away this weekend and the frustration I feel about missing the starting gun is very like Peter Palafox's when he couldn't see South America. However, I am a bit ashamed and will point out that lissuns can wait until tomorrow to read this:
"The music-room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet."
This opening fills me with _intense_ pleasurable anticipation now, but despite deep searching in the halls of my memory, I cannot recall my exact feeling upon reading that the first time. Knowing myself as I do, I would not imagine that I was hooked at that point.
The very next line, while I still don't remember my initial feeling with any precisement, I am sure I enjoyed. I love the "passionate conviction" phrase. By the time you get to the end of the page, when the lieutenant (not yet identified) slaps his leg and is reproached by his neighbor, I was hooked.
Of course, in the first read, without any knowledge of book or author, one doesn't know throughout the entire 1st pg whether this passage is introducing two of the books characters or just recording a passing incident. It is not until the second page, when the name Jack Aubrey is assigned to the lieutenant, that we know that they are real identities.
Interestingly, the first passage that I can still clearly remember reading during my Canon baptism is found on page 51: "at almost the same time the sun popped up from behind St. Philip's fort - it did, in fact, _pop_ up, flattened like a sideways lemon in the morning haze and drawing its bottom free of the land with a distinct jerk."
For some reason that description, that beautifully artful, exact description struck me. I have _seen_ the sun do that. It is an event that I have experienced and when I read this I remember thinking, "how perfectly described" and it stuck with me.
Beautiful book and possibly my favorite because of the anticipation it breeds in me for those to follow.
Nathan
I can clearly remember, as I've mentioned before, that this opening filled me with delight. Here was another writer--another "frigate story"--but this one was directly challenging the tone-deaf Hornblower. And doing it with lovely prose. CSF's prose, much as I enjoyed his well-told stories had always struck me as a bit tone-deaf itself.
Charlezzzz
You know, Charlezzzz, I do remember your saying this about the opening line and your comparing it to Hornblower. I considered referring to it as a contrast to my experience, but figured I was long-winded enough.
Nathan
At 9:00 AM -0400 8/31/2001, Nathan Varnum wrote:
"The music-room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet."
For those who are interested in such things, POB's first handwritten draft read:
"The music-room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a handsome octagonal room with gilt pilasters, was filled with the triumphant ending of the first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet..."
From the Lilly Library POB collection, Bloomington, IN
Don Seltzer
One thing I noticed about the opening few pages this time is how nicely O'Brian links Jack with violin and Stephen with cello. Jack's eye follows the bow of the lead violin, naturally enough since that's his instrument, but soon after Stephen speaks for the first time, a movement starts with the cello, and the adjectives used to describe it (don't have MAC here, sorry) nicely foreshadow Stephen's character -- quieter, more subtle, someone who operates (literally, oops) in the background. I think there's a bit more of this in that opening scene --- as things go back and forth between Jack and Stephen, the references to violin and cello loosely follow, with one red-herring viola reference thrown in once for good measure but nevermind that.
(Possible PC spoiler in the next paragraph.)
The way violin and cello fit Jack and Stephen is doubtless a tired old topic in the Gunroom, but I do like the way the foreground, star instrument, prominent leading qualities of the violin (all so fitted to Jack) and the characteristics of the cello mentioned above (to Stephen) are counterbalanced by the violin being small and high pitched, fun to imagine being played by big, buoyant, goldenhaired, bear-paw handed Jack; while the big, bass-voiced sensuous-bodied cello is played by scrawny, homely, wheeze-and-creak laughtered Stephen.
Please excuse all the adjectives.
In re: Charlezzzz'z post -- I don't know about Forester being prosaically tone deaf, but certainly O'Brian hits a wider range of notes.
More this weekend,
-Jerry
In a message dated 8/31/01 9:54:51 AM, NVarnum@ARKAYINDUSTRIES.COM writes:
I was long-winded enough.
Never! Go right at 'em. Everything you put in makes it better.
Charlezzzz
I see we've begun M&C, and not a moment too soon.
Surely this question has been covered before. Could some Mowettly creature explain to this lubber yet again.
The first time Jack takes Sophie out, he lays on too much sail and her mainmast breaks? fishes? sprungs? warps? I should have thought the sails would tear before the mast breaks. What happened in English?
Then Jack brings Sophie back to the yard and tricks the supplier into giving him a bigger mast than he deserves. How? And if this mast is bigger than the sloop is designed to carry, won't it overcarry or tip over or do something bad? What happened in English?
Not the mast - the main yard.
=====
Gregg
Sailing Master, Artillery Capt., Glover's Marblehead Regiment (GMR)
See my replicas of ancient nautical navigational instruments:
http://people.ne.mediaone.net/saville/backstaffhome.html
First, it was the main yard - the horizontal bit - not the mast; and the original was, in Jack's opinion too small and weak for its job. Knowing that there were extra spars available in the dockyard, Jack accidentally-on-purpose overstressed the yard and caused it to crack.
Normally, one would think a wooden spar would be stronger than the cloth and rope, but since there are lots of lines and only one yard, the stresses added up so the yard took on more stress than any individual line. Also, a wooden spar was often not a single piece of wood, but two or more smaller pieces "fished" together. This made the spar less strong and Jack took advantage of this.
Of course, the spar he wanted was too large according to the experienced Captain of the dockyard, so Jack acted the brash young commander and said effectively, "Let me try it, and if it's too much, I'll cut it down." The yard was just what he wanted, but he had the carpenter shave the arms (ends of the yard) to make it appear that he had cut it down, and make the dockyard Captain happy.
All this, POB took directly from Cochrane's memoirs, IIRC.
--
Bill Nyden
a Rose by another name
37° 25' 15" N 122° 04' 57" W
======================================================
William Nyden | CAD Systems Engineer
Space Systems/Loral | nyden@ssd.loral.com
3825 Fabian Way, Z-02 | ph (650) 852-4333
Palo Alto, CA 94303 USA | fax (650) 852-5207
"Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction?
Fiction after all, has to make sense."
- Mark Twain
http://sites.netscape.net/wanyden
http://www.maturin.org/
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http://www.HMSSurprise.org/
I am sorry for not remembering who wrote about this, but in three trips through the canon, I never twigged the justaposition of Aubrey (and Maturin) vs. Hornblower in terms of music. Sure, from our discussions here I remembered that Hornblower was tone-deaf, and Aubrey certainly is not, but never did it occur to me that Himself used his very first sentence to show that A&M were NOT just another Hornblower.
Among the many good things about this list, this is a new one for me: I'm about to embark on a reading of the entire canon, and won't end up reading faster, faster, faster, until I'm done. I might actually catch some of these nuances myself, this time.
--
David Phillips sasdvp@unx.sas.com SAS Institute, Inc., Cary, NC
If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much room.
RKBA! DVC 35* 46.53'N 078* 48.89' W
I am sorry for not remembering who wrote about this, but in three trips through the canon, I never twigged the justaposition of Aubrey (and Maturin) vs. Hornblower in terms of music.
Charlezzzz wrote it
Among the many good things about this list, this is a new one for me: I'm about to embark on a reading of the entire canon, and won't end up reading faster, faster, faster, until I'm done. I might actually catch some of these nuances myself, this time.
That's my goal for this reading, too. Sloooowwww dooowwwnn and try to catch these nuances.
Nathaaaaannnnnn
In message Fri, 31 Aug 2001 15:48:18 -0400, David Phillips wrote:
> through the canon, I never twigged the justaposition of Aubrey (and
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Oh, fiddlesticks. Don't attribute to poor spelling what might just be poor typing. Bletch.
--
David V. Phillips sasdvp@unx.sas.com SAS Institute Inc., Cary, NC
If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much room.
RKBA! DVC 35* 46.53'N 078* 48.89' W
Nathan Varnum quoted the M & C opening:
"The music-room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet."
And Don Selzer quoted POB's draft version (I at first wrote "daft" version!):
For those who are interested in such things, POB's first handwritten draft read: "The music-room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a handsome octagonal room with gilt pilasters, was filled with the triumphant ending of the first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet..."
I guess it doesn't matter whether POB decided the last movement or the first movement was "triumphant," as the piece itself is a fiction -- as has been mentioned here before once or twice.
I still wonder about that, though. Given O'Brian's occasional nods, did he actually know that there is no Quartet in C Major by Locatelli? Did he simply mis-write the key? Or *think* he knew Locatelli wrote a C Major quartet and didn't bother to check?
Or did he have some secret reason for, right from the start, pulling our legs -- or at least the legs of us lovers of slightly esoteric chamber music in his audience? Why would he do that, I'm wondering, when so few would appreciate the joke? -- barring its being discussed in groups like this one (whose eventual existence and commitment level would no doubt have stunned and presumably delighted him had he known then). If the reference is a kind of music lovers in-joke and not an inadvertent mistake, does it have any significance for later? None that I've discovered. But maybe others have.
Marian
Please excuse all the adjectives.
Well, *I* for one love adjectives and your post was great. Trust a mathematician to be musical! And I'm glad that Nathan jumped the gun and am sorry that you'll be away this weekend from the fun, but you can catch up. I loved that description of the sun popping up, too.
I have an opus all ready and waiting to be posted tomorrow but shall probably have some shots fired across my bows and retreat because of the usual excellence of the group. (Translated, I may be too awed by the postings to post mine. But I doubt it, even the midshipmen speak up from time to time.)
~~ Linnea
As I came across the series in a public library which didn't have MAC, my first encounter was in HMS Surprise. By the time I got hold of MAC I was already familiar with Jack and Stephen and possibly enjoyed the book more than if I had come to it cold. (That is another reason why I think that the fear of spoilers are a bit over done).
I would be willing to bet that he did know there was no such quartet, and that the joke was for himself if no one else. I remember this M&C passage being read by Richard Kapp, musical director of Philharmonia Virtuosi and producer of the Musical Evenings with the Captain series (does sea-room have these? have not checked, but if not they are at http://www.essaycd.com/). He spoke at the Smithsonian seminar last November and I believe will be at the event in Newport on Nov. 3, along with violinist Mela Tenenbaum who is simply amazing in her virtuosity.
His group has recorded just about the entire body of Locatelli's work, but he is a fairly obscure and little known composer, so Richard was amazed and delighted to discover his name in the first paragraph of the series. He said he had opportunity to speak with Patrick O'Brian during his visit to the Rose, and that he was further astounded at the depth of his musical knowledge in general. He said they discussed at length an equally obscure composer (can't remember the name now) and how he admired O'Brian's "casual familiarity with things that most of us hold at arm's length." It seems like I almost recall him saying that he mentioned the fabricated C major quartet to O'Brian and got a small smile in response - but I could be fabricating that myself! Something for the group going to Newport to follow up on and report back to us!
Kathryn Guare
I remember this M&C passage being read by Richard Kapp, musical director of Philharmonia Virtuosi and producer of the Musical Evenings with the Captain series (does sea-room have these?)
Yes, and the two sequels.
John
Just a small suggestion, and one which may be echoed in, I think, The fortunes of war. Perhaps Locatelli really did write such a C major quartet, which was subsequently lost? We have lost something like two thirds of the Victorian novels (small print runs, bad paper and binding, sold cheap and thrown in the trash) and well over half the movies before, say, 1960 due to deteriorating film. POB was a deep old file and his research may have led him to the truth--Locatelli wrote it, Molly Harte was careless with the manuscript, and since he was an obscure composer, no one else saved the music....and his publisher did not think, based on previous failures of his sheet music to sell, that he wanted to put out yet another piece.
Spoiler space unless you've read the entire canon
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Doesn't Jack have a music by a previously obscure composer, papa Bach, which he buys in manuscript form at a London musicseller's, and the paper ends up going up in flames during the fire on the Java? Who knows what it was--Brandenburg concerto material? We have lost so much, and Jack and Stephen don't seem to have helped the situation! HMMMMPH!
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Sue Reynolds, occasional musician and often grouchy, though not the list anything.
I thought the literary allusion to the opening of the Three Musketeers is extremely obvious. That was, in fact, one of the things that made me happily declare forty pages into M&C that "I want all the rest of the books in this series, and I want them right NOW!" I like an author who is not afraid to retell a tale, especially one of my favorites.
OTOH, my husband, who is not anywhere near as fond of POB as I am, regards the book as, "boy wants ship, boy gets ship, boy loses ship," and wonders what I ever saw in it. My eldest daughter, a child of rare literary insight and voracious reading habits, has not yet started POB, but when she does, I expect many complaints about not having been told she was missing something very fine indeed. The second daughter has managed to read most of the canon and is trying to persuade me to buy her another set so we don't have to share. Not likely, though we do have some duplicates. The Ionian Mission tends to go a-wandering....
Sue Reynolds, who kinda sees Stephen as an antiheroical Athos, with the body of Aramis, and Jack as a cross between Porthos and d'Artagnan. further parallels possible, but I need to get back to work....
In a message dated 08/31/2001 6:58:43 PM Central Daylight Time, nyden@HERMES.SSD.LORAL.COM writes:
he had the carpenter shave the arms (ends of the yard) to make it appear that he had cut it down,
I'll ask another. Which way, and how much, would the yardarms be shaved? Like (shades of Buffy) making them =pointy=? or like orange sticks? or what? Shaving them off flatter or shorter =would= be cutting them down, seems to me.
gluppit the prawling strangles, there, [FoW8]
Mary S
35° 58' 11" N
86° 48' 57" W
He was just taking the surface wood off to show bright, unweathered wood, as it would have appeared if he HAD cut the ends off.
--
Bill Nydenbr
a Rose by another name
37° 25' 15" N 122° 04' 57" W
Thank you to Gregg and Bill for the answers. One was more helpful than the other and I understand it now.
Bill Nyden wrote:
Of course, the spar he wanted was too large according to the experienced Captain of the dockyard, so Jack acted the brash young commander and said effectively, "Let me try it, and if it's too much, I'll cut it down." The yard was just what he wanted, but he had the carpenter shave the arms (ends of the yard) to make it appear that he had cut it down, and make the dockyard Captain happy.
Bless you Bill!
I've read MAC maybe 10 times. I've been a lissun for 2 years. Only today did I learn the reason for the carpenter's curious behavior. I'm with child to discover what else I don't know. It's going to be a great 20 months.
Claude, enlisted for drink
In a message dated 8/31/01 4:20:51 PM, rxbach@EARTHLINK.NET writes:
I still wonder about that, though. Given O'Brian's occasional nods, did he actually know that there is no Quartet in C Major by Locatelli?
Oh, that sly, ever so sly, POB, peering out at us from his almost perfect camouflage. Of course he knew. And he knew that we didn't know. But what else he knew that we didn't know is that there was no Patrick O'Brien either. So here was the most in-joke of all possible in-jokes, bang at the beginning of his book.
Charlezzzz, thinking that by the ending of his opus he was indeed triumphant
Just a small suggestion, and one which may be echoed in, I think, The fortunes of war. Perhaps Locatelli really did write such a C major quartet, which was subsequently lost?
Good one, Sue! I like it!
I must protest though (the esteemed Richard Kapp of Philharmonia Virtuosi notwithstanding -- Kathryn Guare referred to him) that Locatelli is not all that obscure a composer, and though he's undoubtedly better known today than he was when O'Brian wrote Master and Commander, he wasn't so very obscure then, either.
Here's one for you: a scenario in which an obscure English writer passing himself off as Irish discovers a long-lost string quartet by a an 18th century Italian violin virtuoso and composer before all the world's musicologists/music historians do, and manages to keep it quiet until he refers to its presence in the first of what would be a long series of novels about two string players who also happen to be in the Royal Navy....
Marian
Patrick O'Brian does an excellent job of establishing Stephen Maturin and Jack Aubrey as the two main characters of the novel by the close of chapter 1 of Master and Commander. However, he then goes on to introduce us to a third important figure: James Dillon. In Chapter 2, Jack makes reference to Dillon, bringing Stephen's attention to him for the first time. Stephen (naturally) denies knowing Dillon.
Fast forward a bit to page 49, Norton paperback edition:
"'Christ,' said Jack, as the shattering din of the carpenter's hammer prised him from his hold on sleep."
Then on to Stephen at page 52. O'Brian begins by making connections to Jack:
"The sun had reached Dr. Maturin ten minutes earlier, for he was a good deal higher up: he, too, stirred and turned away, for he too had slept uneasily."
A paragraph or so down:
"'Christ,' he said at last. 'Another day.'"
The Dillon, page 54.
"'Christe,' hummed James Dillon under his breath, shaving the red-gold bristles off his face in what light could make its way through the scuttle of the Burford's number twelve gunport." He continues to sing and shave.
I didn't notice that O'Brian uses the same way of "waking up" each character to us until my second read-through of M&C, and even now I'm not sure what he intends us to think of it. Is Dillon to be another main character? Something supporting this would be the fact that O'Brian chooses to follow his actions the same way he does for Stephen and Jack, but for no other characters (that I can remember). He lets us peek over Dillon's shoulder, as it were, while he prepares to go aboard the Sophie. But Dillon is out of the running before the end of MC, of course.
This has probably been noted before, but I thought I'd share it anyway. Thoughts?
--Jessey, back on Gunroom for a bit before school starts, and jumping the gun for the group read out of pure excitement.... *grins*
Welcome back aboard, Jessey; hopefully, it will be for more than a bit.
Doug Essinger-Hileman
Drowsy Frowsy List Greeter, Rated Able
39°51'06"N 79°54'01"W
Very astute piece of analysis! Critics have complained that POB never kills off his main characters. Maybe that's because he killed them off too subtly for the critics to notice that they were main characters.
- Susan
=====
To learn about "The Port-Wine Sea," my parody of Patrick O'Brian's wonderful Aubrey-Maturin series, please see
http://www.ericahouse.com/browsebuy/fiction/wenger/index.html
Starting a new book, without any experience of the characters:
at the very beginning, we don't know whether Jack Aubrey was off on his timing when he beat the music, or if Stephen was mistaken, or cranky, or spoiling for a fight. We are disposed in Jack's favor by several clues: on page 8, when his face changes from friendly ingenuous communicative pleasure to an expression of somewhat baffled hostility, and his acknowledgment to himself that he'd been in the wrong for beating the time: also, Stephen is already wearing a rusty coat, he's small, ill-looking. We don't care for him at this point. As O'Brian later points out in "The Yellow Admiral, "one has an innate, wholly disinterested kindness for beauty." Yet: O'Brian has a way of showing the reader both sides of the issue. There was a steady hum of low conversation in the back of the room: a soldier exploded in a stifled guffaw and Jack looked angrily round. We accept Jack's anger at the distraction, therefore we can understand Stephen's somewhat different response to a distraction. Jack was already disturbed by Stephen's behavior, but again, Stephen was already disturbed by something - we find out later more about his circumstances, but we can already see the reverse of the situation. We like Jack and accept his angry glare at the soldier, so we are mollified at Stephen's response as well.
Nicely written: right from the very start se see that this book is different from run-of-the-mill fiction.
This is as good a time as any to remind lissuns of the wealth of resources available for your enjoyment of the canon. I particularly commend you to:
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Acropolis/3774/pob-tr.htm
where a devoted group of POB fans have translated all the foreign phrases in the canon into English, and to
where you can look up characters, animals, places, and where you can find several other good documents to aid your enjoyment, and to
http://www.io.com/gibbonsb/pob/
where you can find just about anything POB-ish
and OF COURSE to
where you can find links, resources, and whatever makes your enjoyment of POB complete.
- Susan, reminding
I began reading a few days ago and was amazed anew at the world I was plunged into. On this reading, though, I was aware of the devices that POB used to describe that world: the officer stranded without a ship on shore and the physician stranded, as well--their personalities clear at the outset and their complete grounding in the etiquette and habits of their time; the port setting, the sparkling air, the local people all come alive immediately. There is no dreary description to slog through; it just appears like magic, as does the humor.
We are indoctrinated into the mysteries of the Royal Navy of those times, with a depth that exceeds anyone's expectations: the descriptions of the different ships and their men in throwaway lines and seamen's jargon, the inter-rivalry of ships, how familiar each ship's history is to the men, the professionalism and jealousy, the graft and corruption in the shipyards and suppliers, agents, the ordnance wharf-- the entire intricate world summoned up in about 40 pages (up to page 51, but the story really begins on page 7).
During Jack's visit to the sick lieutenant Baldick, late of the "Sophie," there is the device of laying a ship's company and its various occupations before us in a few paragraphs of conversation, and Jack's tour of his new command gives us yet more information, as does Stephen's visit to the hospital, where we learn of the surgeon's mate's profession.
We are soon well grounded in the natural world, too, of water, winds, currents, clouds, and light that make up Jack's realm, and the rocks, earth, and animals that Stephen takes account of. And we learn it is the year 1800, because the winter of 1799-1800 was so dry. We even know the day Jack assumes command, as the Logbook notes that Lt. Baldick was discharged 18 April 1800 to join "Pallas" per order Lord Keith (p. 73).
I was struck by the acute professionalism of Jack, whose long years of experience in many ships finally converge as he attains the command of his sloop. (Although Jack and Stephen are described as being in their 20's, he's been aboard a ship since 12.) We are immediately swept into his mind with its concerns about manning the ship, whom can he rely upon, how does she sail, what can he do to bolster her armament; and we are made intensely aware that he's not just interested in rank-- he wants prizes. The importance of prizes and money and powerful interest (influence and connections) in one's career are set out very early. As is his hope that Stephen can join the ship--not only does the "Sophie" need a surgeon's mate, but Jack realizes, as he sits in his cabin for the first time, that it is going to be lonely at the top, and such a friend will be a comfort, if such a friend he proves to be.
Well, of course I am preaching to the converted, and I've only read up to page 69 (Norton paperback 1990) so far, but I had to share; I just marveled at the mastery and the humor after a long time away from the books. And how did POB do it? How did he leap from The Unknown Shore, with the nascent characters he barely sketched for us, with its episodic events (and the grinding sail around Cape Horn), skimming along on the surface, to the deeps of M&C?
From Dean King's biography, I remember only the impression that POB had never ever sailed in a real ship, except perhaps once; his absolute portrayal of a tour of the "Sophie," and her first venture to sea under Jack, is another marvel.
I loved the Introduction-- I didn't remember that and can't remember if POB speaks again in the later books, but here he is, in a page and a half, speaking to us directly in a clear, intelligent voice, explaining how he did it; but no, there is no way to explain how he did it!
Linnea Angermuller
Afloat somewhere in the Mediterranean
Yes, I noticed that--POB has Stephen being very polite on one hand, removing himself while Jack attends to his papers, but on the other hand picking up Jack's violin and playing it! Perhaps he did already feel a friend (he was invited aboard, after all, to share the Captain's cabin), or perhaps he just did this absentmindedly, as Stephen often seems to be in his own world. But he must have felt he was already a trusted friend and we are touched that he's finally found a safe place to be.
I'm with you--I could never pick up anyone's instrument without asking! (Not that I can play anything but the piano.)
Thank you for the Reminders, Susan!
Linnea
There is a wonderful paragraph on pg 22 of my Norton edition that really struck me when I first read M&C. I had not been reading Hornblower or any other nautical fiction, so the character of the Man of War's Man was unknown to me until:
"A party of seamen went by on the other side, some wearing broad striped trousers, some plain sailcloth; some had fine red waistcoats and some ordinary blue jackets; some wore tarpaulin hats, in spite of the heat, some broad straws, and some spotted handkerchiefs tied over their heads; but they all of them had long swinging pigtails and they all had the indefinable air of man-of-war's men. They were Bellerophons, and he looked at them hungrily as they padded by, laughing and roaring out mildly to their friends, English and Spanish."
There it all is in just a few lines. The individuality of the seamen, their pride, their good humor. Their somewhat piratical air. And these are the sort of fellows that Jack longs to man his little command with. POB's humor is in this paragraph too:
..."his first serious wound had been inflicted by a woman in Deal with a flat-iron who thought her man should not be pressed".
Mary A
That was great--I loved that, too, and I remember reading it twice just to savor it--like rewinding a video that was showing a very vivid scene. Can you imagine the Hollywood hordes who would have to set such a scene, and POB gives it to us in our mind's eye.
Linnea
I was a CS Forrester fanatic before discovering POB starting with M&C. The thing that really convinced me that I was dealing with a serious sailor and a better dose of reality than Hornblower, was Jack having an affair with the port captain's wife. Hornblower is too damn pure. Jack is a down and dirty seafaring man.
But nice. :-)
=====
James McPherson
33* 47' 30" N
116* 32' 10" W
675' above sea level
a message dated 8/31/01 8:14:53 PM Eastern Daylight Time, kguare@ADELPHIA.NET writes:
I would be willing to bet that he did know there was no such quartet,
I certainly wouldn't bet my life on whether there was or wasn't such a work as the Locatelli quartet C Major quartet. Not having it in hand doesn't mean that there never was one. Remember the Baroque Era was a time when works were written to be played there and then and often to be disposed of just as readily. Locatelli was a traveling virtuoso with a reputation rivaling that of Paganini. He lived in Amsterdam working with the publisher Le Cene publishing work of "gentlemen amateurs." In 1757 he went to Russia to work with the musicians who wanted to receive a hearing in the open atmosphere brought in by Peter the Great. He may well have written such a quartet, perhaps first as one of his concerto grossi. Why not--C Major is a good key. Someday someone may go through his attic and find a Locatelli quartet in C Major dedicated to his dear friend Patrick O'Brian since I sometimes suspect O'Brian was really a man of the 18th century whose novels were found by some unnamed descendant.
Faith feeling whimsical today...
Anyone struck by the description of the music and the concert that comprises the establishing sequence of M and C mimics a similar passage involving one of the Bach suites -- D minor, I believe, which Huxley uses in POINT COUNTERPOINT. Another self-promoter and concealer, was Aldous. And the novel itself has not a few devious characters. Just free associating. But I believe such subterfuges are threaded throughout the canon, witness the deliberate insertion of the verse by HOuseman, placed in the mouth of the manic diplomat, as if it were of the period. The identification of which, by the way, opened by association with this group many years ago in one of those contests.
"Though Huxley, Aldous
Has enthralled us
The Bhagavad Gita
Puts it nita..."
Michael Goldman (poet friend of mine in my mispend youth)
HR Greenberg MD ENDIT
O'Brian never simply SAYS "they got to be good friends." He shows it in a trifle, and it is much more involving for the reader to see it in a casual action such as playing the other person's violin than to just be told about it. I LOVE these books.
- Susan
I like this theory too, and Marian I'm sure you are right that Locatelli ain't so very obscure, but I can't resist this little tale:
I was on a package tour this summer and there was one particular gentleman who tended to drone on to pedantic and pompous excess, considering himself an expert in everything. At one meal he was yammering on about this violin composer and that one and enlightening us as to what they really meant. At one short break in the monologue I asked something like "And do you feel the same of Locatelli?" A vast silence, and then finally "Well, you have me there. Never heard of him." "Ah?" I replied. "Some consider him one of the greatest virtuosos that ever lived." I confess to a small triumphant smugness. Short-lived, since with that comment I had entirely expended my reservoir of knowledge of Locatelli!
Kathryn
There have been several responses to this question, but I read the text differently.
What I think was going on is as follows: the shipyard guy, Mr. Brown, was far away, onshore.
(Page 78: Jack says, "Let my ment take it out, sir...Come along now. Look alive."
" 'Tis only on trial, rmember, Captain Aubrey, CALLED [emphasis mine] Mr. Brown. "I will watch you sway it up."
Page 79: "It will never do, Captain Aubrey," called Mr Brown, hailing over the quiet evening air through his trumpet...")
What Jack does is raise the yard once, lower it, attach little dealies at at the end so with the help of ropes it can be raised a second time still horizontal but ROTATED so that in profile it looks shorter to Mr Brown, even though he has kept it at full length! Mr Brown goes away happily convinced that Jack has shortened the yard and Jack gets the big long yard that he wants.
(Page 80, "Sway her up again, bracing her around easy all the time square with the quay.")
Am I misunderstanding?
-Jerry
On Fri, 31 Aug 2001, Linnea wrote:
Translated, I may be too awed by the postings to post mine. But I doubt it, even the midshipmen speak up from time to time.)
Dear Linnea,
Please do post, and I hope that everyone with comments or observations will do the same. I am with child to hear what people have to say.
-Jerry, smiling uncontrollably as the canon group read begins
On Fri, 31 Aug 2001, sue reynolds wrote:
Just a small suggestion, and one which may be echoed in, I think, The fortunes of war. Perhaps Locatelli really did write such a C major quartet, which was subsequently lost?...
This fits perfectly with all the endangered and extinct species teeming through the canon. It definitely feels to me that O'Brian is doing this on purpose, to take us somewhere different from our living rooms as we read and to tease us a bit.
-Jerry
On Fri, 31 Aug 2001, sue reynolds wrote:
OTOH, my husband, who is not anywhere near as fond of POB as I am, regards the book as, "boy wants ship, boy gets ship, boy loses ship,"
Hmmm, and some later books would be "Doctor wants potto, doctor gets potto, doctor dissects potto"?
-Jerry
Okay, back to that opening.
Jack is gazing fixedly at the bow of the first violin. Stephen speaks, Jack's attempt to respond is interrupted by the "ruminative" cello. Jack refocuses on the last movement, the "single whispering of a fiddle." The cello comes in, Jack hums along, Stephen elbows him. Nice job of linking each man to his instrument.
Another thing that struck me this time too is that more than other books in the canon, this one features long lists of terms, e.g., on page 23: "Hundreds of feluccas, tartans, xebecs, pinks, poleacres, poleacre-settees, houarios and barca-longas...bean-cods, cats, herring-busses." The first time I read M&C this charmed me, and this time I see O'Brian savoring all the words he has found reading through old documents but at times, now that I've already immersed myself in the canon, this gets to be a bit forced. Later O'Brian would use just one or two nicely chosen words to greater effect instead of a long list.
Page 36: "How..." began Jack, looking at Stephen with candid affection...But finding that he was on the edge of questioning a guest...
Does this really reflect a point of etiquette from those days or does it reflect O'Brian's personal views about privacy?
Page 56: Do any lissuns know if Cochrane's _Speedy_ had the elm-tree pump described here?
More in a bit.
-Jerry
Page 144, the admiral says, "And some of them are very mere rakes." Well, you can't have rakes without hoes.
-Jerry, understanding if he gets kicked off the list for this one
Vile, sir. But your penance is holystoning the quarterdeck.
Bill Nyden
a Rose by another name at Home
37° 23' 28" N 122° 04' 09" W
Kicked off the list? Kicked off the list? My dear man, with this post you are most firmly entrenched on the list!
I can have nothing to say about the elm-tree pump, but while I was skimming my copy of "Lord Cochrane Seaman,Radical,Liberator" by Christopher Lloyd, looking for elm-tree pump info, I found this in the second chapter, entitled "The Cruise of the Speedy"
'"A burlesque on a vessel of war" was Cochrane's description of his new ship. Though she appears on the Navy List as a sloop of war, she was really nothing but a converted coastal brig of 158 tons, mounting an armament of only fourteen 4-pound guns, "a species of gun little larger than a blunderbuss." Indeed, he claims to have walked her deck with a broadside of her shot in his pocket. He tried to get the authorities to mount two 12-pounders, but it was clear that the discharge of even these moderate-sized guns would dangerously strain the timbers of his little ship; so he decided that what he lost in gun-power he would make up in speed. His task would be to harry the coasting trade, and a fast sailingship would achieve his aims almost as well as a heavier armed vessel. With this aim in view he rigged a spare fore-topgallant yard from the Genereaux as the Speedy's mainyard.'
And so the chapter continues, full of lots of familiar good stuff, right up to Cochrane's breakfast with Captain Pallière and on to his parole on Gibralter while and action is fought off the coast.
Mary A
You know, I'm not sure why a lissun, after being on this list for a while and reading posts such as Mary Arndt's, couldn't come to the conclusion that POB was an out-and-out plagiarist.
But he was.
Does his thieving of history, esp. other men's histories, glories and ignominies, for his books detract or lessen the voyages of Jack and Stephen? I think not.
Yvonne
I also think not. The retelling of a good story is not the act of a cad. When the story is good and the retelling is done with wit and artistry we have literature which brings as pleasure.
Mary A
At 01:25 PM 9/1/01 -0700, you wrote:
You know, I'm not sure why a lissun, after being on this list for a while and reading posts such as Mary Arndt's, couldn't come to the conclusion that POB was an out-and-out plagiarist. But he was.
Well, I am not sure that "plagiarist" is the term. After all, by the same definition, so then was Shakespeare a plagiarist. Or the author of "Amadeus". The use of history, especially in historical novels, is hardly thievery.
Does his thieving of history, esp. other men's histories, glories and ignominies, for his books detract or lessen the voyages of Jack and Stephen? I think not.
Hardly.
What really is plagiarism?
I don't think we can really accuse O'Brian of it. Patrick O'Brian was writing historical fiction and he closely based his plots on real history and events. Much good historical fiction does. Where would Cornwall and Sharpe be without all the historical writings and memoirs of the Peninsular War?
O'Brian's genius is to make these historical events come alive and entrance us with the interplay of HIS characters performing historically accurate and yet amazing deeds. Aubrey is not Cochrane and Maturin does not bear much resemblance to any other historical figure. They come from O'Brian himself. O'Brian also puts his own spin on the real historical figures who appear in his books. He may base this on contemporary writings, but no one can write about someone in such great detail as to bring them alive as O'Brian does.
O'Brian does once admit to more than just using the events described by contemporary authors but also plagiarizing the words of another writer. In FSOTW he tells us in the foreword that he has copied William Hickey's description of the onset of a typhoon almost directly. He did, I found the passage last year and O'Brian's almost word for word what Hickey wrote, but it is only a few sentences, the rest is O'Brian again.
--
Adam Quinan
'Grab a chance and you won't be sorry for a might-have-been'
Commander Ted Walker R.N.
Somewhere around 43° 46' 21"N, 79° 22' 51"W
For some of my family history see
http://www.cronab.demon.co.uk/quin.htm
Here's a more contemporary line from the Irish band U2 that I agree with:
"Every poet is a thief"
Any person who creates does so from the influence of some other creator/artist. The difference between the great creator/artist and a lesser one is that the great artist takes something ordinary and known and makes that something better, if not downright more wonderful and beautiful, that also resonates with a universal truth that the majority of us can comprehend and enjoy.
Indeed if art equates with truth, then any artist who is not as original as, say, Homer (who was, after all, recounting history that nobody else had written), Plato, da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Dickens (who used his early life as the bases for his stories) would likely admit he is a thief.
And if a creator/artist bases his art on somebody else's, isn't that plagiarism and thievery? Copyright laws came into being in the mid-1800's to combat fiction writing plagiarism, you know (Dickens championed it).
Did Shakespeare acknowledge he was a plagiarist? Dunno. But I wouldn't be surprised if he did, since he borrowed so freely from Italian writers.
And if he were alive and someone were to pose the question to him, would POB himself acknowledge he was a wholesale "borrower" of other people's lives and historical events? Or would he just smile and say, "Next question"? Certainly modesty would have precluded him from acknowledging himself as an "artist".
Cornwall is still alive. Betcha he would give a resounding Yes! to the question and use my words above. (Besides, Cornwall acknowledges his sources in his fictional histories (i.e., the Sharpe books) but POB did not.) (And regarding Shakespeare, POB and Cornwall, copyright laws wouldn't restrict them from borrowing from dead authors whose copyrights, if they had gotten them, would no longer be enforced.)
All of us know what the consequences would be if in school or in our employment we used some other person's work and passed it on as our own.
Still let us make one thing clear: I love and enjoy POB's Aubrey/Maturin books. I do not love them less for knowing that POB borrowed so freely from Cochrane and other real men's lives. It's just that now, knowing what I do, I no longer think of POB as an original writer. However, as fictional characters go, his Jack and Stephen seem as real to me as, well, let us say the people with whom I have daily contact. I'm only sorry that I cannot know them in my real life. But at least I have my imagination, where they live and breathe freely.
Yvonne
We know that Haydn wrote more than a hundred symphonies but after his death his wife burnt some of them before the publisher/printer could set them to type.
Still, as most composers of Locatelli's time had patrons as well as publishers, it is conceivable that the majority of his compositions were preserved.
According to some websites, Locatelli wrote one piece in C major (or do maggiore) -- a concerto for violin and ensemble. As Stephen tended to transpose music compositions for violin and cello, isn't there the possibility that the so-called Locatelli Quartet in C Major was really the Concerto for Violin in Do Maggiore rescored by Stephen for four instruments?
As to Locatelli's virtuosity as a violinist, it is acknowledged that he was a gifted player. But of Paganini's caliber? I would have to disagree. Certainly he had the technical expertise that Paganini later demonstrated (as Locatelli's Art of the Violin compositions show). (Besides, Locatelli died in 1764 and Paganini was born in 1782, so what one generation noted, the following one or two never knew.) But Paganini had personal magnetism and natural charisma, and great showmanship and technical wizardry. Paganini also influenced many of the composers of his time, who wrote challenging music for his violin that they also dedicated to him. As a violinist, he made the violin the great playing instrument it is, as Segovia would much later with the classical guitar, and introduced many of the violin techniques still used today.
It is also acknowledged that after Paganini, Pablo Sarasate is considered the world's next greatest violinists. Where Spohr, Ysaye, Heifetz, Francescatti (my favorite), and many, many others come in on the greatest violinists rank, don't know.
Yvonne
I love and enjoy POB's Aubrey/Maturin books. I do not love them less for knowing that POB borrowed so freely from Cochrane and other real men's lives. It's just that now, knowing what I do, I no longer think of POB as an original writer.
I don't agree with the last sentence, maybe because - for me - the actual events are not why I read the canon. I read it for the characters, major and minor, and while some parts of their lives may have been drawn from historical figures, their essence is pure POB. And original.
Greg
42º32'34.5" N
71º20'13.2" W
I'm sure someone has mentioned this previously (and I apologize in advance for not being able to find the specific message and so keep things grouped), but what an amazing contrast there is between the two "prequels" and M&C. I found the two prequels engaging and well written, but the gulf that seperates the POB who wrote TUS and the POB who wrote M&C is simply breathtaking. M&C is written with the light hand that I so enjoy, and is so much more subtle - scenes and characters are described with just the right amount of detail, allowing the reader to fill in the gaps.
What did POB write between TUS and M&C? Is there a progression that can be followed, or was it simply a matter of a writer finding his characters at last?
Greg
42º32'34.5" N
71º20'13.2" W
Yvonne, you should re-read the forewords to several of the books where POB directly acknowledges in many places that he has taken many of the incidents in his novels from the accounts of officers and men of the Royal Navy. On the other hand, he doesn't just cut and paste their words, he re-tells historical incidents in his own manner and voice with his own characters. I don't know why you should think him a less "original" writer, except possibly in the case of plotting, he writes his own books about his own characters. Even in the case of the turn of events, he did not write a direct slavish copy of history he added his own episodes and left out others to suit his artistic needs.
Each author who takes an old story or historical event and puts his own stamp on it is adding to our supply of good and interesting things to read. I think I enjoy reading these sorts of novels more than any other kind. That is probably why I have a row of novels based on the King Arthur story. Some really entertaining novels are based on old legends or fairy tales told in a new way. Consider what has been done with "Romeo and Juliet". "West Side Story" is another version of it. Tanith Lee wrote a delightfully creepy version called "Sung in Shadow". The bones of the story may be the same, but each author uses his own imagination and talent to flesh it out in a different way. That isn't really plagiarism as the law would define it (at least not as I understand the term) and I wouldn't really call it theft of an idea either, since theft implies a kind of wickedness. I would rather use the term "borrow". The artist takes the concept, makes of it what he can and then throws it back into the cauldron for someone else to use at will.
Mary A
Doesn't Jack have a music by a previously obscure composer, papa Bach, which he buys in manuscript form at a London musicseller's, and the paper ends up going up in flames...
IIRC, he also had a bit of Johnson or somebody that wasn't published and is unknown to us today, though Stephen Maturin was certainly familiar with it.
There is the passage when Stephen meets his cousin in Australia (NOC) and they discuss a passage by Johnson about Kevin Fitzgerald which is nowhere else recorded.
Parallel histories have always been prized by lovers of speculative fiction. Why should one take umbrage at POB for inventing a parallel history of music not ever written. More to the point, POB, in the context of his extraordinary ability to evoke a period, is repeatedly reminding us throughout the canon of the elusiveness of history, of what is forever lost to us of the past.
I saw an intriguing theatrical piece at La MaMa in NYC earlier in the year -- theatrical troup, multinational, was trying to recreate the actual theater of the Greeks from fragments. Director told a story about a nightwatchman who fell in love with a particularly valuable and beautiful and complete urn. He fell to picking it up, holding it in his arms, eventually dancing with it -- and the inevitable happened -- he dropped it, it smashed into a thousand shards, and then the restorers came in to put it back together again.
History, he said, is like that vase. Only the fragments are even more scattered, and we piece it together with inevitable poignant gaps and fissures. POB reminds us of the always already disappearing nature of his characters' history, and indeed of our own, I would submit.
HR Greenberg MD ENDIT
"Soy, Yvonne M." wrote:
And if he were alive and someone were to pose the question to him, would POB himself acknowledge he was a wholesale "borrower" of other people's lives and historical events? Or would he just smile and say, "Next question"? Certainly modesty would have precluded him from acknowledging himself as an "artist".
Cornwall is still alive. Betcha he would give a resounding Yes! to the question and use my words above. (Besides, Cornwall acknowledges his sources in his fictional histories (i.e., the Sharpe books) but POB did not.)
At 6:12 PM -0400 9/1/1, Adam Quinan wrote:
Yvonne, you should re-read the forewords to several of the books where POB directly acknowledges in many places that he has taken many of the incidents in his novels from the accounts of officers and men of the Royal Navy. On the other hand, he doesn't just cut and paste their words, he re-tells historical incidents in his own manner and voice with his own characters. I don't know why you should think him a less "original" writer, except possibly in the case of plotting, he writes his own books about his own characters. Even in the case of the turn of events, he did not write a direct slavish copy of history he added his own episodes and left out others to suit his artistic needs.
I couldn't disagree more with Yvonne's statements. Adam has already replied with precisely my own thoughts, but I would like to just add POB's own words from the Author's note on the first page of M&C,
"...the Cochranes, Byrons, Falconers, Seymours, Boscawens and the many less famous sailors from whom I have in some degree compounded my characters, are best celebrated in their own splendid actions rather than in imaginary contests; that authenticity is a jewel; and that the echo of their words has an abiding value."
POB was far from the first to borrow from Cochrane's exploits; Marryat and Forester also did so extensively. And consider what he did with Cochrane's simple, bald accounts. The episode of the Speedy's mainyard is related by Cochrane in just these brief words,
"The spar was accordingly sent on board and rigged, but even this appearing too large for the vessel, an order was issued to cut off the yard-arms and thus reduce it to its proper dimensions. This order was neutralized by getting down and planing the yard-arms as though they had been cut, an evasion which, with some alteration in the rigging, passed undetected on its being swayed up; and thus a greater spread of canvas was secured. The fact of the foretopgallant-yard of a second rate being considered too large for the mainyard of my "man-of-war" will give a tolerable idea of her insignificance."
Compare that to the little drama in the dockyard that POB created!
Don Seltzer
I think there is a great deal to be said for the idea proposed earlier that the opening scene of "Master and Commander" was written as a deliberately non-Hornblower moment. In a good many ways, Jack Aubrey is the antithesis of Horatio Hornblower, and I find it difficult to believe that Patrick O'Brian was not conscious of this when creating the character. Hornblower's painful personal reserve is set against Aubrey's exhuberant good-fellowship. While Hornblower second guesses himself continually, agonizing over questions of his own motivations, Aubrey blithely plunges ahead. Hornblower has more than a little air of the Puritan about him; Aubrey avidly enjoys -- and pursues -- wine, women and song. In giving his hero these anti-Hornblower attributes, O'Brian created a figure who, frankly, is a lot more fun to be around than old Horatio. I mean, who would you rather sit around with to share a glass of wine or two?
And at the same time as O'Brian avoided duplicating Hornblower, he escaped the more subtle trap of cloning Cochrane, the historical figure whose exploits served as the template for the plot action in this first novel. Anyone who has read a biography of Thomas, Lord Cochrane (or Cochrane's autobiography) knows that Jack Aubrey and the Scottish aristocrat are worlds apart in background and have markedly different personalities. Those who might think that O'Brian lacked originality because of this connection to Cochrane should perhaps give greater attention to the book's characters than incidents of battle. Aubrey, Maturin, Dillon, Marshall, Captain Harte ... they are originals, not copies.
Bruce Trinque
41*37'53"N 72*22'51"W
And speaking of "Romeo and Juliet", William Shakespeare is a superb example of a writer who borrowed his plots from existing sources and then transformed them into something truly original.
Bruce Trinque
41*37'53"N 72*22'51"W
I think that POB or his editor nods on page 9 of M&C (W.W. Norton 1994):
"Saturn was rising in the south-south-east, a glowing ball in the Minorcan sky"
Actually, I don't believe that a disk is visible unaided of any of the planets and stars, except the sun and the moon. In 1801 Jack's eyesight hadn't been destroyed, but still it wasn't _that_ good.
Claude, enlisted for drink
Well, I dunno. When objects are close to the horizon, there is a magnifying effect - the full moon is huge when rising, for instance. Planets don't twinkle, so there is a perceptible optical difference visible to the unaided eye. It is barely possible, I suppose, that if Saturn were tilted so that the rings were most visible and was on a close approach, then a disk would be perceptible in certain conditions to those with excellent eyesight.
Mars, I might point out, is currently at its closest to Earth, a very close approach indeed as these things go, and when I look up at it, even with my weary old eyes it is quite plain that it is more than a point of light. It is, in fact, apparent as a glowing ball in the Australian sky.
Not only are the planets not visible as discs to the unaided eye, but Saturn would not even be visible in that position, it would be setting in the West a little after midnight in mid April 1801. Have a look at this site to check.
http://www.fourmilab.to/cgi-bin/uncgi/Yoursky
You may have to set up the latitude and longitude of Minorca and the check box for the moon and planets. then enter any date and see the positions of the stars.
Due to their relative brightness and the fact that they are a disc as opposed to a true point source, the naked eye planets are more steady than stars. But unless you have telescopic vision all of them subtend an angle that is too small for the unaided human eye to see (except possibly for Venus when its in the daytime sky closest to the earth when some people claim to have seen a crescent shape).
Peter's experience may be psychological due to the steadiness and brightness or, not to his exceptionally good vision, but to a little blurring of the focus perhaps.
While crossing Pacific in 1951 on a destroyer as an Ensign, we were carrying a mustang CDR (ex-CQM) back to West Coast. I mentioned at lunch I'd always heard Venus visible in daytime, but had never seen it. Shortly thereafter our passanger called me to the bridge, lined a pelorus up carefully, said raise it about 30 degrees and squint along the tube. And there it was! -- on a bright sunny afternoon.
He explained; easy enough, providing you worked out bearing and altitude first, but you would never see it by just looking around. It wasn't a "disk," but a steady white point-spot. And Venus was the only planet that could be seen in daylight.
DRM
____________________________________________
Donald R. Morris
E-Mail: drmorris@airmail.net
URL: www.tridentsyndicate.com
Tel & FAX: (713) 668-8665
The first months of 1800 were a very good period for the Royal Navy in the Mediterranean. A year and half earlier, Nelson had crushed the French fleet at the Battle of the Nile. Napoleon escaped back to France, but his army remained stranded in Egypt, cut off by the RN. Minorca had fallen to the British, giving them the strategic base at Port Mahon. Malta was still held by the French, but the naval blockade was starving them out, and surrender of the fortress of Valletta was seen as likely. In Italy, the Austrian army with strong British naval support was winning against the French, who were driven back to the northern city of Genoa.
Rear Admiral Nelson, recuperating at the court of King Ferdinand of Naples and the Two Sicilies, found the situation much to his liking. Constant adulation to feed his ego, a dukedom to increase his prestige and fatten his purse, and Emma Hamilton to tend to other needs. Lord St. Vincent, Commander in Chief for the Mediterranean, based himself at Gibraltar, giving Nelson free rein in the central Mediterranean. Nelson chose to spend his time personally protecting King Ferdinand, his court, and especially Lady Hamilton.
The situation was upset when Lord St. Vincent resigned his command because of poor health. Lord Keith was appointed to replace him, much to Nelson's disappointment. Keith and St. Vincent mapped out a strategic plan that gave first priority to protecting Port Mahon and capturing Malta. Keith accordingly ordered Nelson to redeploy his ships to support that plan.
Nelson openly disobeyed Keith's orders, writing that he felt that protecting Naples was more important. Keith ultimately sailed to Naples and personally ordered Nelson to join the blockade of Malta. In a bit of incredible timing, Nelson arrived just in time to capture the Genereux which was attempting to break through the blockade to resupply Valletta.
The 74 gun ship was particularly marked as one of only two to escape Nelson at the Nile. After the 1798 battle of the Nile, Nelson had sent his flag captain Berry with the dispatches aboard the 50 gun Leander, for want of frigates. The Leander ran afoul of the Genereux, surrendering after a furious battle in which one third of the Leander's shorthanded crew were killed or wounded. Capt. Thompson of the Leander would later be knighted for his gallant efforts in losing his ship. The French treated the officers and crew of the Leander badly, even robbing the surgeon of his instruments.
So there was great satisfaction when Nelson's Foudroyant helped capture the Genereux off Malta on February 18, 1800. As was customary in such victories, Nelson appointed the 1st Lt. of his ship as prizemaster, and recommended him for promotion.
Keith arrived on the scene the following day and began the game of musical commands. Capt. Manley Dixon (the model for Capt. Harte) of the 64 gun Lion requested a transfer to the Genereux once it had been surveyed and bought into the navy. His spot on the Lion was filled by Capt. Lord William Stuart, creating a Post vacancy given to the very deserving Commander Jahleel Brenton of the Speedy. And now Keith had a small measure of revenge for Nelson's insubordination. Over-ruling Nelson's recommendation of promotion for his 1st. Lt., Keith instead turned to his ship, promoting a very junior Lt. who had never distinguished himself in action, but was the son of a Scottish Earl.
The early careers of Lord Thomas Cochrane and Jack Aubrey could hardly have been more different. Cochrane had gone to sea at a relatively late age, and had served primarily on ships of his uncle, Alexander Cochrane. Serving in the North Sea and then on the American station, midshipman Cochrane saw no action other than frequent hunting parties ashore, but rapidly advanced to the rank of lieutenant. Influence won him a spot on Lord Keith's flagship, where he made himself a nuisance, nearly provoking a duel with the 1st. Lt., for which he was court-martialed. At the time that he was promoted and appointed prizemaster of the Genereux, he was either 4th or 5th lieutenant of Keith's Queen Charlotte.
Jack Aubrey, by contrast, followed a more traditional career path, going to sea at an early age. A review of the entire canon shows that he served in more than two dozen ships before the start of M&C (made possible by serving on multiple ships simultaneously). He was wounded aboard the Leander at the battle of the Nile, and again when the Genereux captured his ship. It was only fitting that he be appointed prizemaster of Genereux and promoted to Master and Commander.
And that is how Cochrane and Aubrey merged identities for the span of one book.
Don Seltzer
I venture to sugest that Mars is bright enough at the moment to be visible in daylight if you knew where to look. However, as it is opposite the sun, it can only be seen at twilight, which makes it easier.
Venus is never too far from the sun, so it's a bit tricky to spot - I find that by observing the position relative to the moon the preceding evening or morning I can then work from that visible point and see Venus, allowing a little for relative motion of the Moon along the ecliptic.
I'm still waiting for the day when Venus is close enough to the Moon in daylight that I can look up at it, scream out "Ohmigod! Space Aliens!" and have unsuspecting folk join in the panic massteria.
Amateur astronomy was not one of POB's strong suits. His celestial observations throughout the canon are riddled with errors, and are better accepted as poetic license.
Neither Saturn nor any other planet could ever be described as rising in the SSE at Port Mahon in April. And the observations of Saturn a few chapters later are totally inconsistent in terms of time and direction.
Don Seltzer
My favorite scene in the early parts of the book is Jack's glorious happiness as he shares it with the giggling Mercedes.
"Not teniente ... Capitano!"
gluppit the prawling strangles, there, [FoW8]
Mary S
35° 58' 11" N
86° 48' 57" W
I also wondered what role the long twelves and Mr Brown's music played in the whole main yard affair. The accounts of Cochrane's doings I've just read here would seem to give some credence to Jack's insistence on trying the twelves out. However, in hindsight, I had thought that it was somewhat foolish of an experienced naval officer to try them considering the resultant wera and tear on the sloop. Was this POB's way of showing us that Jack wasn't quite as experienced as he thought? Alternatively, did Jack, from the start, think of using the long twelves as a trade for the spar he really wanted. And what role did the request for the music from Mr. Brown play? Did he genuinely want it, or was he just buttering up the cantankerous Mr. Brown?
Phil
When Jack offers Stephen advance pay, telling hiom that it was quite usual to do so and almost invariably taken, was he being truthfull or was he just offering Stephen a loan in the only way he thought Stephen would accept it? Was it indeed a long-standing custome of the service?
Phil
I have always taken it that he was offering Stephen a loan. Volunteer recruits might have received a bounty which I don't think was an advance against their pay, but I don't think this would apply to the afterguard.
Martin @ home:
50° 44' 57" N
1° 58' 34" W
What exactly is the nature of the recital at which Jack and Stephen meet? Would it have been a formal event sponsored by the military authorities or a "public" concert? I'm asking because I've always wondered how Stephen comes to attend it.
Although O'Brian does mention that the crowd contains an "occasional" civilian, most of the people in attendance are either Marines or ship's officers. (After Jack lets Stephen pass, he works "through the crowds of tight-packed blue and red coats with the occasional civilian black" p. 10). The commandant's secretary is there as well. Would a civilian like Stephen, unconnected with the Navy, have required an invitation to attend?
Compared to O'Brian's description of the audience, Stephen is an outsider. He's broke, hungry, and homeless, and his appearance reflects his destitute state: (rusty coat and wiry, unpowdered wig). What a contrast he makes to the men, brilliantly uniformed, and Molly Harte, clad in pearls and pale blue satin. Is it simply Stephen's status as a physician (rather than a mere surgeon) that is his ticket to the music-room at the Governor's House?
We learn that prior to the concert, Stephen, together with Mr. Florey, the surgeon at the hospital, had performed an autopsy on Mr. Browne, Stephen's patient who died at sea (p. 37). Would Mr. Florey have been someone who could have told Stephen about the concert?
My other (very unsubstantiated) theory is that Stephen is already connected to an intelligence network that places him in Port Mahon for reasons other than caring for the supposed "Mr. Browne," and it is through these connections that he ends up at the Governor's House. All we really know is that Stephen arrives at Port Mahon with a cadaver and a story, and as we learn in later books, it's not unlikely for Stephen to come up with a spare cadaver or two, and subterfuge is not beneath him.
The already dead "Mr. Browne" is no one, really. His "everyman" name, his nondescript personal effects, his friends who "don't answer" Stephen's letters, and his decamped servant make him very difficult to trace. Even the autopsy-"to satisfy his friends"-seems a bit odd, even though Florey agrees to it (p. 37). Stephen has already diagnosed the guy-"the last stages of phthisis." Why does he need to do an autopsy, other than to prove to Florey that he is, indeed, a physician and establish his identity as such?
OTOH, I've just finished a BIG glass of wine, so perhaps it's best to take the simple approach: Stephen just wondered in to the place, lured by the music he so adores.
Jessie Matthews
--
"I hate quotations. Tell me what
you know." Ralph Waldo
Emerson
... is a very good rule in many cases. If as, in my case, you discover another volume of the canon before M&C, how does that affect your appreciation of M&C?
In my case I came to the canon via Post Captain, the only volume held in our public library (Only one of three then, and they also had TUS and "The Chian Wine" so that was probably a very good representation for the time).
After the richness of the humour in PC I found M&C a little disappointing at first (Hey, I was under 20 at the time and reading Reeman, Kent, Ramage etc). Later I came to appreciate its virtues but PC remains my favourite.
Martin @ home:
50° 44' 57" N
1° 58' 34" W
In a message Sent: Friday, August 31, 2001 Marian Van Til
I still wonder about that, though. Given O'Brian's occasional nods, did he actually know that there is no Quartet in C Major by Locatelli? Did he simply mis-write the key? Or *think* he knew Locatelli wrote a C Major quartet and didn't bother to check?
I think we can be fairly certain O'Brian is, yet again, "practising" on us.
Pietro Locatelli (1695-1764) wrote a series of 12 difficult violin concertos titled L'Art del violino op.3, which, along with a set of 12 flute sonatas, op. 2 are usually thought to be his most important contributions. Now the last concerto in the Opus 3 series is subtitled "Il Labertino Armonico, facilis aditus, difficilis exitus". So when you try to determine what Himself is up to, you fall into a harmonic maze, from which you will with difficulty extricate yourself.
With or without the knowledge of his prank he makes me think of famous C Major quartets that would have been available to Jack and Stephen. I know of only two.
The first is Haydn's "Emperor", Op. 72 (whose slow movement is the tune for Deutschland uber Alles). And didn't POB consider the Emperor Napoleon to be a bit of a Hitler.? The other is Mozart's "Dissonance" K465, dedicated to Haydn. This quartet opens with a famously controversial dissonant adagio, foreshadowing the initial and temporary dissonance between Jack and Stephen caused by Jack's enthusiastic conducting, and which is the prelude to their relationship.
The idea that such a quartet by Locatelli could have been lost is hard for me to imagine. If it were in public performance around 1800 as M&C claims, having been composed prior to 1764, it would have existed in published printed form, unlike the vulnerble manuscripts of old Bach.
Paul, always wery wary of the notion that a major author nods in an opening paragraph.
I found several POBs in a public library in the mid 1980s, they ranged from HMSS to about TH with some missing volumes IIRC. I read HMSS and loved it and returned to read the others. I tried ordering the missing and earlier ones through the system but they didn't have all of the earlier ones then. They do now! I tried to read them in order, but it wasn't until I discovered that one of my best friends was a POB reader and, as he worked for Harper Collins, had copies of all of the books that I was finally able to read them all. The first one I read spanking new and hot off hte press was probably Letter of Marque. I can't remember exactly when in the process I read M&C but it wasn't in the first two or three.
By the time I read it I was very familiar with Jack and Stephen so the interest was in seeing how they met and I never worried too much about Dillon because I knew he wasn't around later. I also remember thinking that M&C was much more based on real history than the others in how the story developed and had less of the humour of PC and HMSS.
--- "P. Richman"
Could some Mowettly creature explain to this lubber yet
again.
Nice adjective. The Mowettly tour of the "Sophie" to
show Stephen the ship bothered me in several ways, but
here's an attempt at clarification of this puzzling
segment:
To begin with, my eyes glaze over. The first time or so
that I read "M&C," I skipped over this part. By now, I
sort of understand the terms better, I have a little
background from reading the other books, I'm more eager
to learn. My eyes still glaze over. For one thing, I
don't LEARN any more about it when Mowett says "that's
the mainstays'l and that's the forestays'l for'ard:
you'll never see one, but on a man-of-war." So this tour
isn't just for the education of the reader. I think this
is POB's DEMONSTRATION rather than explanation, that
there are a lot of bewildering new terms for the new
seaman, POB WANTS the reader to glaze over, to be "at
sea," he's showing you the complexity, the depth of the
confusion of the landlubber at sea.
Also, I think that by glazing the reader, he's
introducing the feel of the insensible running together
of life at sea - one paragraph follows another in the
text, one day follows another at sea, as land patterns
fade, everything you've read in the past fades into the
past, your legs start to bow, you become part of the
endless vista of sea and sky. I think POB is showing the
reader that you don't HAVE to know your futtock-plates
and your topgallant shrouds - you just have to pull on
the end of that there rope until you gradually assume the
characteristics of the seaman, until you gradually become
part of the crew, taking on a bit more of what you need
when you're ready for a bit more. It's a jargon, you
need to know that it exists, and you need to know some of
it now, you need to know more of it later. Does the
reader really need to know that the mainstay is
ten-inches and the preventer stay seven? Not at all.
But while Mowett is eagerly explaining about fids and
top-mauls, Stephen is seeing Irish revolutionaries
hanging. The language of the ship is washing over him,
the reader's attention is flagging, but the info is going
in as deep background, and the pattern of the language is
becoming part of everyday life at sea, part of the
reader's pattern of thinking; the vocabulary is NOT being
taught as in a glossary, but is going past while being
glossed over, getting absorbed the way an infant absorbs
new languages.
Or did everybody except me learn the meanings of all the
terms from the Mowettly explanation?
I have decided that Jack really,really wanted the 12-pounders if the Sophie
could manage them, but that he also really,really wanted a more substantial
mainyard, and since he is an expert at making lemonade out of lemons, he
lost not a minute in making an adventageous trade with the dockyard. I do
not think it was an accident that Mr. Head of ordnance had just been placed
under Mr Brown's authority. He got the guns from one person, but was able
to return them to another and make the trade he wanted. The text on pgs 60
and 61 make it clear that he was by no means sure that the Sophie could cope
with the bigger guns.
As for the music, at first I thought he genuinely wanted it, but on my most
recent read I noticed the "buttering up" potential.
Mary A
And moreover: I wonder if this entire segment was
inserted after the main piece was written? I suspected
this with other pieces from time to time, and here's why
I'm suspicioning it again now:
On page 97, Stephen asks Mowett "You could not explain
this maze of ropes and wood and canvas without using
sea-terms, I suppose. No, it would not be possible."
I think this is O'Brian talking to his editor. He's
willing to explain some of his jargon, but having some
difficulty doing so. He's trying to do it all at once,
through the device of having Mowett show Stephen the
ship. But this section of the book breaks the flow of
O'Brian's tale - it goes on too long, and is too stilted.
I think he wrote it because he was asked to do so, but
he wasn't in the mood, didn't really get himself into it,
and it came out clumsy.
O'Brian was commissioned to write something for adults to
fill the gap caused when C.S. Forester died. Most of his
writing to that point was for boys: his short stories in
The Oxford Annual for Boys, The oxford Annual for Scouts,
and the two "prequels" were written with a youthful
audience in mind. With that history, the publisher who
commissioned POB would have scrutinized the author's
offerings more diligently than O'Brian would have liked
later in his career, and would have interceded more
readily than they would have done with an established
writer. So maybe someone asked O'Brian to use fewer
sea-terms, or to explain them, and he stuck in this
piece, but not in his usual flow - the language is
different, the sentence structure is different, and the
entire effort seems forced, and less enjoyable for the
reader.
- Susan, blithely opining - that's what the groupread is
for, right?
While agreeing wholeheartedly with those who have written to defend the
literary merit of those authors who use historical events as the basis for
fictional accounts, I would also suggest another benefit of such efforts.
In my school days I tended to avoid "History" because I perceived it as a
dry and uninteresting subject. In later years, after reading and enjoying
certain historical novels, I began to venture into nonfictional histories to
learn more about the actual events. Thinking back, I believe this started
for me with Michael Shaara's The Killer Angels, which led me to a self-study
of the American Civil War, a fascination which continues today. Similarly,
POB and Cornwall ignited a curiosity about the Napoleonic era, resulting in
an exploration of the written history of the times. Quite recently, I read
the excellent Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield, which has whetted my
curiosity about the Ancient World.
Would I have discovered my love of history without the gentle introduction
by great novels? Perhaps, but I am not sure. In any event, I owe a debt of
gratitude to those novelists who have led, and continue to lead me to the
joy of learning about the past. Of these, POB stands head and shoulders
above the rest.
DJD (Who often feels like tearing his hair out when contemplating the
opportunities missed in school)
I would agree about the benefits of historical fiction for whetting
people's appetite for the sometimes drier real thing. I remember reading
Ronald Welch's series of children's military historical fiction books
which dealt wth the fortunes of the Carey family from 1066 or shortly
thereafter down to the Victorian times. Each book stands alone as a
complete story, but the whole series brought English history to life in
a way that no amount of classroom teaching could.
And there's more of this. As Susan Wenger points out, O'Brian was fond of
quoting other authors. On page 176, "Don't tell _me_ about rears and
vices; I have been in the Navy all my life" is a paraphrase of
not-so-prissy-after-all Jane Austen's scatalogical joke from _Mansfield
Park_ [paraphrasing, don't have the text here with me], "Do not speak of
me of those admirals, with their rears and their vices."
Trust O'Brian to have his own followup joke waiting, the comment about
"wanting in penetration." Suddenly those rakes and hoes don't seem so bad
in comparison.
-Jerry, relieved
This time through I focused more closely on the Mowetribe, but like Susan
I still glazed over. I find it somewhere between idiosyncratic and
clunky. Flipping back and forth to the picture at the beginning of the
book as it went on helped some, but still it went on too long IMHO. The
idea that it was written by editorial decree is appealing since O'Brian
usually introduces terminology in context as he needs it.
-Jerry, still wondering if anybody else reads the yardarm incident as he
does or whether he got it wrong
Stephen (p.171) says, "With Ireland in her present state a republic would
quickly become something little better than a democracy."
Would some politics-and-history savvy lissun briefly say what those two
terms mean to Stephen?
Thanks,
From: Don Seltzer
Keith arrived on the scene the following day and began the game of musical
commands. Capt. Manley Dixon (the model for Capt. Harte) of the 64 gun
Lion requested a transfer to the Genereux once it had been surveyed and
bought into the navy
This is really interesting to me. I have been puzzled about the following
passage in TGS (pg 100-101):
"Well, sir," said Jack, "I have only two observations to make. The
first is that the third lieutenant is the son of an officer with whom I
disagreed in Minorca. I say nothing against the young man, but he is aware
of the disagreement and he takes his father's part. It is no doubt natural,
but it would not make for a happy ship."
"Dixon? His father's name was Harte until he inherited Bewley, as I
recall," said the admiral, with a look that was not easily interpreted.
Perhaps it was knowing, perhaps inwardly amused, conceivably disapproving;
in any event Satterley was obviously aware that Aubrey was one of those who
had made a cuckold of Captaine Harte at Port Mahon.
There is nothing particularly strange about this, but I stopped to wonder
why POB felt the need to introduce a second family name here. I didn't see
the point. It is interesting to see that the alternate name is the name of
the person Harte was based on.
Mary A
In any event, I owe a debt
of
gratitude to those novelists who have led, and continue to lead me to the
joy of learning about the past.
I agree with you about this entirely. Good historical fiction can spark an
interest in the real thing.
And youth is wasted on the young. ;-)
Mary A
Indeed, there is an old Pennsylvania-Dutch saying: We get too soon old and
too late smart.
Shakespeare was pretty adept at reusing plots and
characters too. POB is in good company.
=====
And Susan's eyes are so glazed over that she's quoting herself, LOL! (Nay,
I "got" it!)
I agree with your second essay that just came in my Digest--the passage does
seem clunky and forced. The only possible other explanation is that he
himself wanted to ground the reader in the jargon and get it over with, but
your editorial supposition sounds truer.
I remember really studying all that the first time, but this time I let my
eyes glaze and glaze and.....
Linnea Angermuller
When I first began reading POB, Post Captain was the first volume
available--M&C was checked out and there were paltry few others on the
shelves--this was 10 years ago? I was always glad I began with PC and
sometimes advise others (mostly women) to begin with that, as I am
disappointed to find that they don't take to POB if they begin with M&C. I
think PC is my favorite, too.
What! You mean there is _more_ humor in PC than M&C? I have just
forgotten and now have that to look forward to! I am just at the part where
Stephen is asked by Mrs. Harte to lead jovial Jack away from the rout after
he's boomed out fax pax galore, and Stephen says Let us not lose a moment
(or some such.)
Such a squeaker you were, Martin.
Despite ingenious efforts to show that Stephen Maturin was already an intelligence
agent by the opening of "Master and Commander", I cannot accept such a conclusion.
Stephen's disdain at Jack's notion that the doctor could easily gather intelligence
regarding Spanish ships and convoys and cargoes seems entirely sincere: "Certainly
I could, if I chose to play the spy. It is a curious and apparently illogical
set of notions, is it not, that makes it right and natural to speak of the Sophie's
enemies, yet beyond any question wrong, dishonorable and indecent to speak of
her prey?"
To me, this seems a cousin to Stephen's disavowal of conventional patriotism:
"I have nothing to do with nations, or nationalism. The only feelings I have
- for what they are - are for men as individuals; my loyalties, such as they
may be, are to private persons alone ... [P]atriotism is a word; and one that
generally comes to mean either my country, right or wrong, which is infamous,
or my country is always right, which is imbecile."
Despite the expression of such sentiments in "Master and Commander", of course,
by the time of "Post-Captain" Stephen is an experienced, valuable, and (one
might say) enthusiastic intelligence agent working against Bonaparte. Either
O'Brian was hiding Maturin's real loyalties and activities in "Master and Commander",
which seems to me to be wholly unacceptable given the intimate look we are given
into his thoughts, or O'Brian changed his mind about Stephen's role by the time
he wrote "Post-Captain".
The latter, I believe, is almost unquestionably what occurred. The reason appears
to be obvious: Maturin's intelligence operations would provide many opportunities
for future plot ideas and would be useful in explaining how Jack Aubrey could
be found involved in dramatic events, such as the capture of the Spanish treasure
convoy.
It is not unusual for the author of a new series of novels to make substantial
changes in character and tone after the first book so as to make the series
more viable. I would cite two cases which immediately come to mind. Fans of
Robert B. Parker's "Spenser" books will remember that the Spenser of "The Godwulf
Manuscript" is a much more of a brash loner than the detective hero of the succeeding
novels; the supporting cast of characters had not yet made an appearance and
Spenser's dialogue has not yet found its anchor. A second case would be the
humorous detective novels featuring "Stanley Hastings", written by Parnell Hall.
The first in the series, "Detective", is so different in effect that it seems
scarcely to belong to the same set of stories, being much more serious and dark;
only with the second "Hastings" book did Hall find his proper voice.
O'Brian, on the other hand, made relatively minor changes between "Master and
Commander" and "Post-Captain"; characterizations and narrative tone remained
much the same. Only Stephen's willingness to indeed be a spy was altered, all
in the name of plotting.
Bruce Trinque
I was always glad I began with PC and sometimes
advise others (mostly women) to begin with that, as
I am disappointed to find that they don't take to POB
if they begin with M&C.
That echoes my thinking. On my first read, M&C was, frankly, disapointing.
There was enough there to get me to PC, and within about 10 pages of PC I
was hooked for good, but M&C didn't work for me.
Now, on reading number five of M&C, I am amazed at all that I missed the
first time around. It captivates me from the first sentence, and each new
read of M&C moves it up in my list of favorite POB books.
You mean there is _more_ humor in PC than M&C?
This was my first impression. On this re-read, I question it.
Greg
42º32'34.5" N
Linnea
And Susan's eyes are so glazed over that she's quoting
herself, LOL! (Nay,
I "got" it!)
Well, that's why I entitled it "P.S." : }
I have to admit that I'm currently re-reading HMSS, having finished M&C and
PC recently. When I re-read M&C, however, I noticed that O'Brian never had
the two main characters referring to each other by their first names. I had
assumed that this mark of a more intimate friendship would come in M&C,
however I found it for what I took to be the first time on page 13 of PC.
Did I just miss it in Master and Commander, or is it really just not there?
And if it's not, is this an indication that Jack and Stephen are not quite
that close yet?
I brought this up because of the discussion of the (possible) loan of money
and other comments on the theme of this friendship in general.
--Jessey
In a message dated 9/2/01 11:17:45 AM Central Daylight Time, jerry@REED.EDU
writes:
Jane Austen's scatalogical joke from _Mansfield
Park_ [paraphrasing, don't have the text here with me], "Do not speak of
me of those admirals, with their rears and their vices."
I am simply unable to believe that Jane meant what people now think she
meant.
Not because I am a prude or because Jane was a prude, but because standards
of decorum were simply different in that age, and certainly very different
through the immediately succeeding Victorian age, in which Jane was still
read, if not as popular as she later became.
Of course there is a joke on "vices," and I am not sure just what she meant
by the "rears," but I don't think it was, or could have been, scatological,
even coming from the lively Mary Crawford; Jane's cheeks would have burned
red to hear such an interpretation, I think.
But I could be wrong.
Deeply, obstinately ignorant, self-opinionated, and ill-informed,
Mary S
Linnea wrote: "Yes, I noticed that--POB has Stephen being very polite on one
hand, removing
himself while Jack attends to his papers, but on the other hand picking up
Jack's violin and playing it!
I think POB was displaying Stephen's character here: how he does march to a
different drum: and though he does his best, the creature, occasionally to
comply with society's norms, he almost always instantly screws up ... But on
another level, his taking the violin shows his state of mind with regard to
Jack at this point, the state of mind you so beautifully outline.
London Lois
Jim McPherson wrote: "I was a CS Forrester fanatic before discovering POB
starting with M&C. The thing that really convinced me
that I was dealing with a serious sailor and a better
dose of reality than Hornblower, was Jack having an
affair with the port captain's wife. Hornblower is too
damn pure. Jack is a down and dirty seafaring man."
What about HH's affair with Marie de Gracay with whom he betrayed Maria
(Flying Colours) and later Barbara (Lord Hornblower)? He betrayed Maria with
Barbara, in mind at least, if not in body (The Happy Return). And what about
his fling with the highborn gal at the Siege of Riga (The Commodore)?
The thing about HH is that he agonises over these betrayals - JA is only
bothered when it seems Sophie may find out or an angry husband may be after
him. In that sense HH is "pure" in comparison with JA - and, IMO, a far
nicer human being too. As far as doses of reality go, there are people like
HH in the world and people like JA: both characters are excellent portrayals
of different types and equally real, I believe.
London Lois which I have dearly loved HH these 30 years and more and always
shall.
London Lois
Nathan wrote:
This opening fills me with _intense_ pleasurable anticipation now, but
despite deep searching in the halls of my memory, I cannot recall my
exact feeling upon reading that the first time.
I could not agree more: the first read had the whole first page of my wondering if I would read more... NOW, it is the opening gun, the start of the anticipation.
While wed are on the opening, I find that the JA presented at the concert is a totally different JA than I think we see anywhere else. He almost comes off as a buffoon... which in deed he is sometimes while ashore, but we never see it so clearly as at the concert.
Barney
On p.251, I was quite surprised when POB, a man with a wonderful turn of a phrase, simply said [starting on p. 250]
'Then I must tell you that on Sunday mornings it is the custom, in that country, for people of all ages and conditions to dance.... The dance is a particular dance a round called the sardana; and if you will reach me your fiddle I will play you the air of the one that I have in mind. Though you must Imagine I am a harsh braying hoboy.' Plays.
That one word sentence struck me as quite out of place. Almost a stage direction, not a sentence. While POB rarely uses too many words, it is with even rarer exception (I think) that he uses too few.
Barney
Being captain seems to agree with JA. In my Norton HB on p. 109, we're told that Jack is 14 weighs stone, by the time he gets to Gibraltar on page 394, SM is telling him he must weigh 16-17!
Barney
Prior to the gunboat chase, we're told:
[JA's]"heart was going with a steady, even beat, a little faster than usual. Stephen had drawn off ten ounces of blood, and he thought he felt much better for it."
what was this supposed to do, and did it (I would guess NOT as we do not practice it as much these days).
Barney
At one part in the book, JA knows that a ship is responding with the signal from six months ago. How often did these change? Certainly, in later books the voyages become longer and a signal good for six months would be so old on the return voyage that you could get yourself killed coming back into Portsmouth.
Barney
In my Norton HC , p.151, POB revamps a series that he played with in TUS to Toby, but this time with Stephen:
a sloop not a sloop, the Captain in not a Captain, the surgeon is not a surgeon, the gun-deck has no guns, etc, etc.
Barney
Barney wrote:
Being captain seems to agree with JA. In my Norton HB on p. 109, we're told
that Jack is 14 weighs stone, by the time he gets to Gibraltar on page 394, SM
is telling him he must weigh 16-17!
There have been many long arguments about how overweight Jack was at
various points in his career. Possibly Stephen has been exaggerating and he
really does weigh (only) 14 stone!
I realise some people may have difficulty with the British system of
weights and measures. Feel free to translate 14 stone to 89 kg. (grins)
Martin Watts
The recent posts about the "morning" scenes involving Jack, Stephen, and
Dillon, and Susan Wenger's (most excellent!) thoughts about the introduction
of the names of ship parts got me thinking...
All three men are given equal weight for these scenes. But this book isn't
about two Irish guys with an unpleasant shared history during an Irish
uprising: it's about the Royal Navy and Napoleon, and in order for both
Dillon and Stephen to remain on the same ship for any length of time, POB
would have had to address this animosity. One of them had to go. (I wonder
if POB at any time considered tossing Stephen and keeping Dillon...?) So,
just as POB uses the device of having Mowett explain the various ship parts
to Stephen, has he also introduced Dillon for the sole purpose of giving us
some detail of Stephen's parts?
And the denials: Dillon denies Rome yet wakes up with the Kyrie (and Miss
Smith) on his lips, Stephen denies knowing Dillon (how many times before the
cock crows?) - what does Jack deny? The ring on Molly Harte's finger?
Already we know none of these men is gold-plated perfect.
BTW, for those who started with M&C, did Stephen being left behind at the
time of the shake-down cruise cause any great anxiety? Now that I've read
the book several times it no longer bothers me, but at the initial reading, I
did not care for Jack for a while, and thought him a thorough scoundrel. Was
that the desired effect?
Alice
I've never understood why anyone would think blood-letting would be
beneficial. Suddenly removing a certain percentage of one's red blood cells
(RBCs) and their oxygen-carrying capacity would most definitely lead to a
faster heart beat, and sometimes lightheadedness - the remaining RBCs would
need to be pumped around a little faster to make up for the loss.
Alice
When were red blood cells and their function of carrying oxygen first
understood? Do we have a medico in the house to inform us?
Bruce Trinque
In a message dated 9/3/01 9:25:10 AM Eastern Daylight Time,
Ladyshrike@AOL.COM writes:
All three men are given equal weight for these scenes. But this book isn't
about two Irish guys with an unpleasant shared history during an Irish
uprising: it's about the Royal Navy and Napoleon, and in order for both
Dillon and Stephen to remain on the same ship for any length of time, POB
would have had to address this animosity. One of them had to go. (I wonder
if POB at any time considered tossing Stephen and keeping Dillon...?)
I doubt that POB ever gave much thought to an Aubrey-Dillon pairing as the
mainstay for a nautical series, with the good doctor at the bottom of the sea
sans diving bell. Jack and Stephen are very much a more adult version of
Jack and Tobias from "The Unknown Shore" and this sort of partnership seems
to maximize the potential for exploring a wider world in comparison with that
of two hell-fire naval officers (one of the weaknesses of the Hornblower
novels is that Horatio does not have a Stephen counterpart so we can do
something other than agonize for the thousandth time over whether Hornblower
did or did not do something he should have). No, I rather expect that
O'Brian was already getting James Dillon's shroud ready even as the
lieutenant was performing his first morning shave.
Bruce Trinque
I read the animosity as being between Dillon and Jack rather than Stephen.
Dillon seemed to be close to calling Jack out as a coward. That relationship
could not last. The tragedy was that Dillon dies just when all doubts would have
been resolved. OTOH if he had survived he would have been promoted out of the
Sophie, probably to a ship of his own. IF POB contemplated committing a sequel
at this point Dillon would not have been available for further use.
Martin Watts
Bloodleting was based on the theory of humors:
From Webster's Dictionary, 1913:
Hu"mor (?), n. [OE. humour, OF. humor, umor, F. humeur, L. humor, umor,
moisture, fluid, fr. humere, umere, to be moist. See Humid.] [Written also
humour.]
1. Moisture, especially, the moisture or fluid of animal bodies, as the
chyle, lymph, etc.; as, the humors of the eye, etc. &hand; The ancient
physicians believed that there were four humors (the blood, phlegm, yellow
bile or choler, and black bile or melancholy), on the relative proportion of
which the temperament and health depended.
Blood would be let to alleviate an imbalance in the 'blood humor' which I
think was called the 'sanguine humor'. All useless, of course, and very
heavily over-prescribed. It was not uncommon for a patient to die from
overenthusiastic bloodletting.
jim
Feel free to translate 14 stone to 89 kg. (grins)
For a tall man leading an active life and carrying a lot of hard muscle,
89kg seems quite moderate and the later 16-17 stone doesn't really seem all
that bad either. In fact, considering the way Jack downs the bacon and
anything else in sight, he is doing OK. (Wouldn't want to see his
cholesterol numbers though).
Mary A
I believe it was a german scientist in the mid 19th century who first
determined that red blood cells carry oxygen (I can't remember his name).
In any event, Stephen's era did not understand this concept. The physicians
of the time thought they were letting out noxious humours, as Jim wrote. I
recall being told in one of my classes many years ago, that it was sometime
early in the 20th century that statistically, a person finally had as good
as a fifty-fifty chance of being helped by a doctor rather than harmed.
Mary A
BTW, for those who started with M&C, did Stephen being left behind at the
time of the shake-down cruise cause any great anxiety? Now that I've read
the book several times it no longer bothers me, but at the initial reading,
I did not care for Jack for a while, and thought him a thorough scoundrel.
Like the gentleman at the dock who pointed out the Sophie to Stephen, I had
a great deal of anxiety for his state of mind. I feared something dreadful
would happ
From: Mary Arndt
Sent: Sunday, September 02, 2001 7:39 AM
Subject: Re: GROUPREAD:M&C:wha' happened in English?
From: Susan Wenger
Sent: Sunday, September 02, 2001 8:14 AM
Subject: Re: GROUPREAD:M&C:P.S. to wha' happened in English?
"Using no sea-terms? I should be puzzled to do that, sir;
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"No; for it is by those names alone that they are known,
in nearly every case, I imagine."
From: David Dunn
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Jerry
From: Mary Arndt
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James McPherson
33* 47' 30" N
116* 32' 10" W
675' above sea level
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35° 58' 11" N
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(Lois Anne du Toit): lois@glomas.com
"Man is the only animal that both laughs and weeps, for man alone is struck
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(William Hazlitt)
From: Lois du Toit
Sent: Monday, September 03, 2001 3:47 AM
Subject: Re: GROUP READ: MAC: Morning Scenes, James Dillon
(Lois Anne du Toit): lois@glomas.com
"Man is the only animal that both laughs and weeps, for man alone is struck
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(William Hazlitt)
From: Barney Simon
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East of NYC
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50° 45' N 1° 55' W.
The Borough and County of the Town of Poole
From: Ladyshrike@AOL.COM
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03, 2001 6:31 AM
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41*37'53"N 72*22'51"W
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41*37'53"N 72*22'51"W
From: Martin Watts
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50° 45' N 1° 55' W.
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From: Jim Biggerstaff
Sent: Monday, September 03, 2001 7:01 AM
Subject: Re: Groupread M&C: Blood letting
===========
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