Welcome to the weekend!
Having only just today recovered from the seasonal flu contracted over the Christmas holiday, I find Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death” to be an appropriate tale to share. It’s a gothic, classist revenge tale, of course, but more than that, “Red Death” illustrates the shared dooms of a people or society — no matter one’s caution, or in this case, cold abandonment.
Poe scrawls:
The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No disease had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its seal—the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then bleeding at the pores. Scarlet stains appeared on the body and especially upon the face of the victim. And the beginning and end of the disease took only half an hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand friends from among the knights and dames of his court. With them he retired to the deep seclusion of one of his abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric taste. A strong and lofty wall protected it. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and hammers and welded the bolts. By taking these precautions, they were sure they would avoid the disease. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. There were clowns, ballet-dancers, and musicians. There was Beauty, and there was wine. All these and security were inside. Outside was the “Red Death.”
You can read the rest here.
Covid hot-takes are old hat, so let me offer an alternative: Hosting family from all over the country at our home this Christmas practically guaranteed we’d get sick with this year’s flu, but even on the most congested, miserable day that followed (there were many), we never regretted those five days spent together under this snowbound roof. My wife hadn’t seen her one sister in three years, and my niece and nephew have grown so and developed vivacious personalities since last they were here.
But as we’ve learned over the last three years, everyone gets a turn where sickness is concerned, and some have and will regret the time lost to “abundant caution.”
We get only so much time together. May we recognize it for the opportunity that it is. Poe may have never inspired such a happy, sappy piece, and I’m sure he’d be quite upset about it.
But hey, have a happy day. Here’s the Edwin Hawkins Singers:
