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Quote of the Day: “Full many a flower is born to blush unseen”
No, that’s not actually the quote of the day. It’s just a line from one of my favorite poems. The actual quote of the day for today, September 20, 2020, is:
“Of all losses, time is the most irrecuperable for it can never be redeemed.”–King Henry VIII
I have no idea if Henry VIII ever actually uttered those words. They’re included as a quote from Henry to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, in an episode of the TV series The Tudors, and that’s close enough for gubmint work right now. Because it’s certainly true, isn’t it? I mean, which of us hasn’t, at some point in our lives, spent an inordinate amount of time on something; a job, a project, a relationship, a hobby, something, anything and somewhere along the way recognized what an utter bloody waste of time it is and has been? And then (at least if you’re me), who hasn’t spent even more time regretting, second-guessing, and trying to put things right before giving ourselves a metaphorical slap upside the head and moving on?
None of you? Well, alrighty then. You’re better men than I am, Gunga Din! (that’s not the Quote of the Day, either. Please try to keep up.)
The reason I’m thinking about Henry VIII today is that it’s the 536th birthday of Arthur, Prince of Wales. Born on September 20, 1484 to Henry VII and his bride Elizabeth of York, Arthur had every expectation of inheriting the throne upon the death of his father.
But (please observe that nothing comes before “but”), on April 2, 1502, and only a year after his arranged marriage, at the age of 15, to Catherine of Aragon (yes, that Catherine. And that Aragon), Arthur died at Ludlow Castle in Shropshire, of an “unknown ailment,” thus ensuring that the throne of England would pass, upon his father’s death, to Henry VII’s second son, the future King Henry VIII.
Hard to imagine an untimely death of a teenager that had more of an impact on world history, and upon which it’s more fun to speculate upon the “what if’s.”
Arthur, Prince of Wales has always been a bit special to me because he’s buried in Worcester, in my hometown cathedral, where his chantry is a beautiful place to visit, and a prime attraction for visitors.
I love Worcester Cathedral. It’s large enough, and old enough, to enjoy all the wonderful accoutrements of tradition and history that I require in such special places, yet small enough to encompass and get my head around when I’m trying to understand the whole. I highly recommend it as a stop on a tour of England (if we’re ever allowed to enjoy such things again) for all those who love, as I do, visiting ancient churches and places of worship.
One of the side benefits of Arthur’s burial there is that Henry VIII largely spared Worcester from the worst effects of the dissolution of the monasteries and the ravaging of the churches. So it is a largely intact example of a pre-Henry VIII English monastery and cathedral.
Another huge attraction there is the tomb of King John. Poor old King John.
John, John, bad King John
Shamed the throne that he sat on;
Not a scruple, not a straw,
Cared this monarch for the law;
Promises he daily broke;
None could trust a word he spoke;
So the Barons brought a Deed;
Down to rushy Runnymede,
Magna Carta was it hight,
Charter of the People’s Right,
Framed and fashioned to correct
Kings who act with disrespect –
And with stern and solemn air,
Pointing to the parchment there,
“Sign! Sign! Sign!” they said
“Sign, King John, or resign instead!” —Eleanor Farjeon
Once more, not the QOTD. But a bit of doggerel I learned as a child that stuck with me, through thick and thin, through actual history lessons, and through historical/romantic novels covering the period.
So, when I’m in the English Midlands (please God that I will be again, one day, and that if and when I am, I will be able to make it home to Western PA afterward), I make it a point to visit Worcester Cathedral to see King John and say hello to Prince Arthur.
Here’s Dad, the last time I took him to say hello to King John:
Hello, Dad. Sixty-six years ago today I said those words (in my infant mind) to you for the first time. And that, and all the time I spend with you over the ensuing 53 years, is time I never regretted a moment of, and of which I never considered a moment “wasted.” Thanks for the memories. Love you much and miss you every day.
Published in General
Happy birthday!
This is the Quote of the Day. If you have a quotation you would like to share while celebrating some occasion in your life, our sign-up sheet awaits. We still have four open dates this month, including tomorrow and the next day.
There is also the Group Writing Project. This month, the theme is an easy one: If I was a —, I would —. It looks as if Clifford has three open dates in the future, and some in the past if you have a handy time machine.
If you haven’t written much on Ricochet, these projects are easy ways to get involved.
Oh, also, October is open for those looking ahead.
You’re better than this She
Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,
By the living God that made you,
You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen”
Here I’ve always thought the writers of “Bull Durham” came up with that one on their own.
Yours is one eclectic post, She. Very eclectic.
Thanks for this. It also was one of my father’s favorite poems (English teacher) and he just called it “Gray’s Elegy.” I didn’t know it had an “actual name” until later.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. Happy birthday!
After reading Southerner’s comment, I went back to your last paragraph and finally figured out that it was your birthday. So happy 66th birthday, She. Let the wisdom of your accumulated years flow to all mankind — or at the least to us lucky Ricocheters.
Thanks, all.
Ludlow Castle, where poor Prince Arthur died, is another beautiful and evocative place to visit. It’s been about 15 years since I last visited, and it looks as if it’s under new management (when Mr. She and I went, it was pretty much a catch-as-catch can wander about the castle ruins). The town of Ludlow is also worth a visit, especially if you’re a fan of A.E. Housman, whose ashes are interred in St. Laurence Churchyard:
I’m reading a Housman biography at the moment. Perhaps that’s what’s got me all maudlin.
I’ve been to the farmers’ market in the center of Ludlow a few times (not sure if that’s actually “Ludlow Fair,” but close enough). And I’ve tried the local beer (very good) and the local cheeses (ditto).
What I most like about the excerpt above is the rather stoical acceptance of the fact that, after getting plastered and lying down in the lovely muck, and after having happy and lovely dreams, when he finally wakes up the narrator must face the fact that it was all a distraction and a phantasm, that reality has resurrected itself, and that really, nothing has changed–“I was I, my things were wet.”
And that all that’s left to do is wake up, get up, start putting one foot in front of the other again and get on with it.
Yep.
Ezra Pound is not a poet I gravitate towards naturally (although he’s sometimes good for a laugh), and I did not know that he’d published Song in the Manner of Housman until reading the biography I mentioned above. It starts like this:
LOL.
I do love Housman though. So short. So simple. So direct. And so quotable.
And
I didn’t really have the time to read this, but I did because it was so intriguing. Wonderful piece She. Yes, history would have been totally different if Arthur had lived.
Thanks, @manny. Also for the additional Gray quote.
Sweet She,
For you.
“This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.” ~ Shakespeare
Regards,
Jim
Thanks, Jim. Here’s my St. George’s Day post from a couple years ago: https://ricochet.com/424485/archives/a-bloody-cross/. In hoc signo vinces. (That’s for me.)
Shanah Tovah. (That’s for you.)
L