A Modest Proposal

This was not my first encounter with A Modest Proposal, and I am always struck by the unique commentary it offers on historical circumstances. Especially considering the popularity of contemporary satire like The Daily Show and The Onion, it's interesting to consider its relevance both then and now. Swift's proposal of killing and eating babies effectively drew attention to an important social issue--the poverty in Ireland--and also influenced the entertainment we appreciate today.
It's especially interesting to consider Swift's own biography when reading A Modest Proposal. When I first read this piece, I did not realize Swift himself was born to a single Irish woman. This fact only emphasizes the obscurity of Swift's proposal, intensifying the ironic elements of the tale: in essence, Swift suggests that babies in situations similar to his own be executed for meals.

Eden in Oroonoko

Classic European portrayal, and especially accounts sent to Europe from the "New World," tends to present less-than-flattering images of native people. Terms like "savage," "primitive," and "barbarian" were often used, and natives were rarely treated as anything more than an animal. As the influence of a mercantile economy rose, countries--and thus their colonists--became increasingly gold-thirsty, often at the expense of the native population. Thus, in comparison to excerpts from explorer's journals, I was surprised by Behn's description of the natives in Oroonoko.
Behn's fascination with the apparent innocence of the Surinam people is apparent. Her description of the interaction between men and women, particularly the tone of modesty and respect held for each other, contradicts the barbaric tales of rape often told by the Conquistadors. Further, I was surprised to see biblical comparisons of what many people considered in actuality to be "heathens." Some who ventured to the West Indies went in the name of mission and conversion; Behn would hold that these efforts in fact blemished the culture of those who lived "as Adam and Eve did." Behn's statement that the native people live in "the first state of innocence, before man knew how to sin" serves as an ultimate commentary on the actions of the explorers of her time. It is not the natives who are evil, but rather the explorers that exploit their sacred land. 

British History

I suppose that's its a function of an American--and especially Virginian--upbringing, but I don't think I ever read a 17th century history that was not American (and certainly not British!) until tonight. Thus, the BABL introduction actually provided a fascinating summary of an era and culture that I had never been exposed to. It was hard for me to read it outside of a colonial context. However, I think this provided an internal and subconscious comparison for me as I read: I found myself searching for early clues that may have predicted the events of the Revolution through the evidence of history. For this reason, I found the section on Religion, Government, and Party Politics most appealing.
I was unaware that when Revolution began in America, England itself was not far out from a dispute of rightful power. Further, I was surprised to learn that as recently as only 100 years prior, England had been working proactively towards a more democratic government of its own in response to a monarchy to which they disagreed (BABL 1004). It seems to me that the conflict between William and Mary and James would have left a lasting impression on the British people: one that would be more tolerant and understanding of the colonists complaints against a monarchy.
However, it does seem that money can explain almost everything. As the section on Ethical Dilemmas in a Changing Nation states, "the eighteenth century [had] a sense of inevitability of progress" (1012). Following an era of such colonial and economic progress, Britain may have never dreamed of losing its American colonies (1001). In literary terms, it seems Britain's only shortcoming was its hubris, fueled by an era of prosperity under Prime Minister Walpole and his King, George III.

Contrast in Paradise Lost

As I read further through Paradise Lost, I am still haunted by the descriptions of Hell and Satan's "cheribum."Milton's use of contrast in his physical descriptions makes a place like Hell somehow more terrifying. The image of flames producing "no light; bur rather darkness visible" provides a truly nightmarish impression of Satan's dwelling (Milton 921). Not only is Hell an evil place, but completely antagonistic to heaven and earth. The idea of conflict, thus, forms the foundation of a backwards world aptly called "Chaos."
The contrast of Heaven and Hell also emphasizes the vengeance of Satan's purpose. The words Satan himself associates with Heaven--"delight, "Eternal Justice"--bare starkly against the depths of Hell. Additionally, Satan's statement, "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heav'n" is sheds terrifying light on the ruthlessness of his endeavor (924). That he feels no remorse or regret for his situation or consequences leaves the reader hesitant to discover what he has in store next.

Love's Prison

It's not unusual to find love's companion is ironically misery. People "fall" in love--an action that typically ends in an abrupt end, and often pain. Cupid's piercing arrow serves as an instrument of love. Lady Mary Wroth seems able to address the pleasures of love only by identifying its pains. Pamphilia to Amphilianthus paints a unique picture of love. Love, to Wroth, seems to pull her down like an undertow. Although she wishes to resist its appeal, she is overpowered by emotions and drawn deeper into it. Indeed, in Sonnet 7, she compares the struggle of love to a shipwreck: "The more she strives, more deep in sand is presses/Till she be lost" (lines 7-8). The weakness she feels against love is heartbreaking in itself. She is not happy to be in love, but rather feels she has merely surrendered--she is simply "servile" (Sont 14, line 10).

Even when Worth can address the joys of love, she describes them as embodied in "some happy fire" (Sonnet 15, line 7). Thus, even the pleasures she can accept from love are ultimately scarring. Further, because "Desire shall quench love's flames" it can be said that Worth feels guilt from the pleasures of love (Sonnet 14, line 12). The parallels in these lines draws the conclusion that the only joys of love are lustful and earthly. To Worth, love imprisons man to satisfy only his earthly, sinful desires; it serves to  blind him from "liberty" to pursuit higher truth.

Lear Losing Touch

Act 4 Scene 6 portrays a mentally decrepit and feeble Lear. Cordelia, whose honesty--or as Lear may claim, insolence--seems to have ignited his cognitive downfall, ultimately becomes the one to pull him back to a sort of reality. Aging is a difficult process, and in this scene, Cordelia becomes a sort of caretaker for her delusional father. Thus, the traditional roles of father and daughter are switched. Lear seeks reassurance in Cordelia, despite his inability to recognize her. Also, while Cordelia seeks forgiveness, Lear maintains a grudge.
Yet, this is a more gentle Lear. Rather than showing manic wrath, he seems regretful of the actions he may have taken to cause his daughters to have "done [him] wrong" (IV.vii.79). As the gentleman explains, "the great rage, you see, is killed in him" (IV.vii.85-86). The calmness in Lear is somewhat haunting; this seems to be the final stages of his insanity. As his mental capacity slips, his rage may have departed, but his reason remains in question.

Questions Regarding Literary Style

Going through King Lear, I am mainly drawn to questions regarding the literary style of the play. Earlier in the course, we defined humanism as the influence of classical pieces on Elizabethan Renaissance literature. In this sense, the "pagan" references of King Lear are expected, and understandably familiar to Shakespeare's audience. I, however, was surprised to note the influence of Geoffery of Monmouth's Historia regum Britanniae. In a time when playwrights and authors were attempting to move away from the medieval literature, Shakespeare called upon it for inspiration for what would be one of his most successful plays. I am interested in what his audience's response must have been to this source--were they familiar with Geoffery's work? I also would like to see a translation of the piece by which Shakespeare was inspired for comparison. While Shakespeare widdled and reinvented the English language, it seems counter-intuitive for him to rely on the language's past. This sort of inspiration draws a whole new definition of humanism.

The idea of the folio versus the quarto is also intriguing to me, and also raises questions to the authenticity of a number of Shakespeare's plays. It is reassuring to think that the influence of his actors is minimal, but what sorts of historical references do scholars have when deciding which version is more "accurate." It also seems counterproductive to consider both at the same time. Perhaps it's my generation's obsession with a perfect and instant answer, but I would be more comfortable if a more "authentic" version could be specifically identified.

Herod's Pride

Act 4, Scene 3 quickly reveals how horrid Herod truly is. Throughout the play, Mariam has made her disinterest in wealth and power clear. Rather, she seeks independence and pursuits a proud identity. In fact, upon greeting--if it can be called such--Herod, Mariam proclaims, "I neither have of power nor riches want, I have enough no do I wish for more" (23-24). The sorrow of losing her family members at the hands of her wretched husband cannot be overcomed by the material goods he has tried to bestow upon her. Herod is entirely oblivious to Mariam's true desires, and seems to overcompensate his shortcomings with riches and power--the two things that are deliberately out of Mariam's interest.

Herod's response makes this sentiment increasingly clear. Rather than console Mariam, he justifies his action by reminding Mariam of her grandfather's supposed intentions: "Hircanus plotted to deprive my head/ Of this long settled honour that I wear" (34-35). Not only does Herod ignore Mariam's desires, but he is enraptured by only his own. His pursuit of Mariam was motivated purely of his own interest, as is the continuance of their relationship. It is when Mariam stands against Herod's interests for her own that he decides she must be executed. Herod is merely a child throwing an extravagant temper tantrum--and it's certain that he is blinded of the consequences.

Dr. Faustus

The prologue first tells the story of a man with humble beginnings, thirsty for knowledge and ambitious in scholarship. Although he began his theological education at Martin Luther's renowned school in Wittenberg, and even earned a doctorate degree, his ambition for knowledge soon turned into a lust for power. Like Icarus' "waxen wings," Faustus' dabbling in magic, fueled by pride, ultimately leads to his demise (line 21).

Faustus' use of Latin and references to classical philosophy speak to his noteworthy education. However, Faustus feels as though he has achieved all earthly power and knowledge necessary: "Is to dispute well logic's chiefest end?/ Affords this are no greater miracle? Then read no more, though hast attain'd the end" (lines 10-13). Thus, ironically, Faustus' thorough theological education ultimately fuels his deal with the devil. Hungry for more knowledge, Faustus turns to the realm of necromancy. Further, Faustus does not fear sin or death, but rather accepts them as inherent in humanity. In this sense, he is able to reason the decision he is about to make at his soul's expense: "If we say that we have no sin/ We deceive ourselves, and there's no truth in us./Why then belike we must sin,/ And so consequently die" (lines 43-46). Ultimately, Faustus' true desire is revealed to be power, perhaps attained by knowledge. Faustus seeks that "All things that move between the quiet poles/ Shall be at [his] command" (lines 58-59).

The introduction to this play pins the root of the plot to be a deal with the devil. However, the play also serves as a moral lesson regarding the pursuit of power. Not only does Faustus seem fatefully driven by his desire to rule as a diety, but his companions Valdes and Cornelius wish to join him. Further, the relationship between Faustus' servant, Wagner, and the Clown presents a parallel power struggle. I'm interested in how their discussion in Act 1, Scene 4, seems to reflect the same ambitions that motivate Faustus.

"I love Rome, but London better"

Medieval writers called on Roman and Greek mythology for influence and inspiration in their writing; Humanist scholars were similarly motivated by these cultures and, specifically, their language. The two eras treated the ancient cultures and their literature differently, though. Greek and Roman culture had the greatest impact on Renaissance religion, which in turn influence the politics and literature of the era.
While medieval writers tied the mythology into their own far-fetched tales, Humanist writers sought to shape its stories and morals to support Christian ideology. Fascinatingly, the philosophy of Plato, who we can assume practiced polytheism in the Greek tradition, "could be harmonized with Christian ideals" (467).
Considering the history of Christianity, and also the basis of the Reformation, I find the departure from the classic belief that man is finite, fallen, and frail that became characteristic of the Renaissance fascinating. This picture is colored even more when one considers the apathetic piety practiced by Margery Kempe. The "emphasis on human potential and free will" that became celebrated during the Renaissance provides interesting contrast to Margery's torturous worship practices (467).
Finally, the evolution of English as an accepted and praised literary vernacular has much to thank Latin for. Richard Mulcaster's passage provides an elegant justification for the adoption of English. It's also interesting here to note the influence of patriotism that was developing, perhaps out of the previously mentioned emphasis on human and societal potential.

The religious metaphor in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet provides extreme irony. However, I'm not sure if this is a stab at the morality of the Catholic church or just an innocent literary device. Is Shakespeare's use of religious players in describing and justifying an immorally-motived act a commentary on the practices of the church that ultimately fueled the Protestant Revolution? Following the readings of Canterbury Tales and Margery Kempe, it's hard to see religion, and especially pilgrimage, playfully referenced.

Questions about Margery

Although I am familiar with the basic Christian notion of prudence and resisting temptation, I was surprised by the emphasis on suffering Margery Kempe places on leading a righteous life. Kempe justifies her isolation and isolation and misery as following the path of suffering that was the Lord's. It is truly her belief that "being despised by the world was the right path to heaven" (371). All the while, following this path, she all but abandons her marriage and essentially offends other Christians with her extreme rhetoric.

I also find the sentences "she continually thanked God for everything" and "She hated the joys of the world" a bit contradictive (371). How could she so hate the world that God made in his own eyes? It's hard for me to see the spiritual reward of such a pessimistic lifestyle. How can one anticipate the joys of heaven if she can't even appreciate the beauty in mortal life?

I am unfamiliar with the church culture of the 15th century, but it does not seem surprising to me that Margery was accused of being a heretic. The scene described on page 375 before the Archbishop was reminiscent of The Crucible's dramatic witch trials. I am not surprised to find such "worship," if you would, as practiced by Margery was rejected by the established church. Frankly, her display sounds a bit more like an exorcism.

Margery's bout with infidelity was also unexpected. That Margery, who has sworn chastity--and forced it upon her own legal husband--would so consider sleeping with another man was shocking. Further, she seems more ashamed of her husband's persistent desire to sleep with his own wife than her own consideration of adultery. I'm just unsure of how this chapter fits in with the rest of the story.

The Knight's Tale

Although it was not uncommon for authors of Chaucer's time to incorporate Roman and Greek mythology, I was surprised to find such a stark allusion to the Greek classic Antigone. The Knight's character Creon is not only guilty of the same crimes as Sophocles', but Chaucer also briefly addresses a similar issue: that there moral laws ultimately more binding than the rule of man. In arguing who has a "right" to the Emelye's love, Palamon reminds his cousin Arcite of the unspoken contract he is bound to as a cousin. Arcite's defends his claim to Emelye as a right of love, which is of higher law than the rules to which Palamon alludes. It seems this was a political issue which still perplexed society at Chaucer's time.
I was also surprised by the petty story line of Part 1, which culminated in a sort of "the grass is always greener" tale. As far as things that are shockingly stupid go, it seems a bit absurd that the two cousins would determine their luck based on "love" for a woman they've never even met--in fact, they can't even decide if she's a goddess or the real deal.
Chaucer's lengthy description of Emelye is reminiscent of Sir Gawain's flowery language. Although Chaucer briefly describes the beauty of the sunrise and the garden in which Emelye paces, her "yellow hair...a yard long" and the grace with which she "gathers flowers, mixed white and red,/ To man an intricate garden for her head" certainly steals the show (lines 1049, 1054). Emelye's description almost tricks the reader into believing the cousins' infatuation isn't so ridiculous after all.

Blog #4: A Motley Crew

Before I highlight pilgrims individually, it's interesting to consider the motley crew they ultimately compose: a proper prioress rides alongside a shipman who "of nyce conscience took he no keep"(line 398). The diversity within this group certainly speaks to the influence of Thomas a Beckett and the mission to Canterbury.
The Summoner's portrait, striking and fearsome, was among the most memorable of the characters. His gruesome physical description and supposed drunken tendencies present him as quite an unpleasant companion. Further, the fact that his willingness to allow "a good felaw to have his concubyn"is apparently his best quality leaves plenty of room for personal improvement. A bearer of bad news by profession, it is also interesting that he rides along with his friend, the Pardoner.
The Pardoner serves as an ultimate foil to the Summoner. The description of his yellow hair and clear skin provide physical contrast, and his ability to sing beautifully compares with the Summoner's drunken Latin outcries. However, despite all these qualities, the narrator seems to hold the Pardoner in lower esteem than the brutish Summoner, ultimately concluding him to be a "a geldyng or a mare" (line 691). I'd like to know if the tales told by these characters show any insight towards the narrator's final opinion on them.
The Doctor of Medicine's emphasis on natural science rather than theology is noteworthy considering the purpose of the group's journey. However, his portrait is still painted as thoroughly admirable: he is friendly, brilliant, and a "verray, parfit praktisour" (line 422). The fact that he is not particularly knowledgable in scripture seems to be of little importance to Chaucer, who mentions it only in passing towards the end of the Doctor's portrait. This seems to be true for most of the portraits. Despite the fact that this journey is a religious pilgrimage, Chaucer is most interested in the individual character rather than one's religious devotion.
On that note, the host actually strikes me as the most interesting character. For him, the draw of the trip is not the destination, but the company he will share the journey with. His purpose in riding with the pilgrims is simply to hear what they have to say and judge who told it best. Further, he's quite transparent about his interest in the company and not the religious appeal of Canterbury. This provides an interesting foil to characters like the Friar, who lives an apparently religious lifestyle despite secretly sinful tendencies.

Sir Gawain and the Lady

So often knights are depicted as iron-clad heroes in battle, men fighting for the honor and glory of their lord and kingdom. Fitt 3 of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight offers a different, softer perspective of the knight. Rather than focusing on the glory of knighthood, the Lady serves to highlight the chivalry that was also characteristic to knighthood. The Lady seeks not Gaiwain's protection, but rather compassion. For the Lady, "knights have ventured their lives for true love,/ Suffered for their love-longings dismal times" (199). Romance and courting takes precedence in the kingdom as Gawain prepares for his final journey.
The contrast of the Lord's hunt serves to emphasis this quality in Gawain. While the men of the kingdom spend their day valiantly hunting deer and ferocious boar--a creature which, notably, maintains an invincible character comparable to the Green Knight--Gawain remains in the company of the ladies. Further, Gawain is praised not for his bravery, but most often his courtesy and charm within the walls of the kingdom. Thus, Gawain's time spent in the kingdom serves as a foil to his ultimate mission. It is a time for Gawain to exercise his chivalric duties of knighthood before facing the challenge of the Green Knight.

Sir Gawain: All Good Things

In class Thursday, a brief discussion highlighted the influence of Norman conquest on the English Language. I first found the distinction between "British" and "English," highlighted on the first page of the introduction very interesting, and also imperative in understanding the development of what we today understand as the English language. Further, I was intrigued by the details surrounding the birth of feudalism in England following the Norman Conquest. It was surprising to me that many of the characteristics associated with early English royalty were in fact a product of Norman influence. William the Conquerer's "Domesday Book" ultimately led to the feudal system that would define the English middle ages. Further, the development of record-keeping would eventually lead to the birth of the guild system; these merchant guilds facilitated the urbanization and class growth in England. It seems the Normans do not receive due credit for the influence their early innovations had on the societal growth of England.

In the first scenes of Gawain and the Green Night, King Arthur and his nights are enjoying the festivities of Christmas and New Years: "Everywhere resounded in chambers and halls/ Among lords and ladies, whatever pleased them most" (162). This scene of carefree jubilee provides a contrast for the eery entrance of the Green Knight, described as handsome yet fearfully "giant" and tinged an emerald green. This intruder not only interrupts the happy-go-lucky attitude of Camelot, but perhaps seeks to put a permanent end to this state through an absurd challenge. Ironically, the joy of the opening pages ultimately serves as a sort of omen: a reminder that all good things must come to an end.

The BABL introduction addressed the tendency of early English writers to call on familiar mythology spanning cultures and regions in their own literature. This is certainly so in Sir Gawain. The references to Troy and Romulus amongst England's own Brutus provided an interesting introduction to the story. Notably, each kingdom referenced in the first stanza faced "turns/ And often joy and turmoil/ Have alternated since" (161). The theme of jubilee followed by sorrow in kingdoms is again visited, this time citing common history and mythology.