Grace English381

In order to address the question of Gulliver’s ‘foreign’ experiences with the most thoughtfulness and accuracy, I feel it is necessary to subdivide the answer into segments, each of these dealing with a different location Gulliver inhabits. After all, Swift separated his text into these different locations/books with a specific purpose in mind. The nuances that can be derived from these separate depictions of Gulliver can then be brought back together to form a comprehensive representation of Gulliver as traveler/foreigner/spectacle etc. at the conclusion of Swift’s text.

In Part 1 Gulliver is certainly a foreign spectacle, and there really is no way for him to not assume this role. The fact that he is living among humans “not six inches high” (1.1) leaves him no choice but to be the center of attention. What is striking about this portion of the text is the absurdity of Gulliver’s deference to the Lilliputians. Gulliver even admits, “I might be a match for the greatest armies they could bring against me” (1.1), but instead waits to be granted his liberty. Perhaps this is Swift’s way of suggesting that his readers critically think about and challenge the notion of colonization, and what had become common protocol for the practice at this time. England is a country that is small relative to most other nations in the world. Therefore (for example), what is it, exactly, that drove England to be such a colonizing force? Additionally, why had England not been challenged successfully as holder of this dominative position? This is one of the main issues I feel Swift is attempting to address in Gulliver’s relationship with the Lilliputians.

Part 2 of the text places Gulliver in a somewhat different role. While in Lilliput (though he never acted on it), Gulliver always had the option of freeing himself from the natives. This option is nonexistent in Brobdingnag, as he, proportionately, is a “little hateful animal”. (2.1) Subsequently, this not only leads to Gulliver’s intensified preoccupation with liberty, but also to his role as a caged entertainer, admired for his “skill and agility”. (2.1) Here, Gulliver remains a foreign spectacle, though he must remain in a state of obedience/deference, for fear of losing his life. More so than in Lilliput, Gulliver here is a representation of the ‘colonized’.

The most interesting differentiation between the first two parts and Part 4 is the nature of Gulliver’s ‘foreignness’. The distance between the Houyhnhnms and Gulliver is not purely one of physical stature, but is one of intellectual differences. Even more so than when in Brobdingnag, Gulliver is a subject of colonization. His oppression is of a mental nature, which in some ways is more damaging than a physical oppression. The description of Yahoos certainly peg them as “disagreeable” (4.1); however, it must be remembered that it is Gulliver through whose voice the tales are told. Since he has been classified by the Houyhnhnms as a Yahoo, he has all the more reason to depict the creatures in a negative light. I propose that Swift is implying that because Gulliver has been mentally/intellectually oppressed, to a degree, he has been made to not only reject Yahoo culture, but also the human race of which he is definitely a part. This type of oppression is so damaging, in fact, that it leads to Gulliver’s refusal to correspond with no one but his horses. This is Swift’s method of highlighting both the physical and mental effects of colonization, and is the final part of Gulliver’s full depiction as a ‘foreigner’.

Mock-heroic/epic elements are found throughout Pope’s text, beginning with an invocation in Canto 1. Usually reserved for the summoning of muses- and their guidance- in ancient texts, Pope writes “I sing- This verse to Caryll, Muse!” (1.3). Considering the lightness of the subject matter at hand, this line is most definitely used in a mocking way. In this same vein, other sorts of ‘epic’ diction is used throughout the text. For example, “Say what strange motive, Goddess!” (1.7) or “Here thou, great Anna!” (3.7). This style of exclamation is typical of Roman and Greek epic texts, and Pope employs it to mirror these. The only difference is that the context of this usage doesn’t warrant this style. The events taking place in Pope’s text are not epically serious enough. It is further made clear that Pope intends to mockingly imitate ancient epics by his Greek/Roman references. Throughout the text he alludes to no less than seven concrete Greek or Roman people, figures, or events. These include “Phoebus” (2.35), “Diana’s law” (2.105), “Ixion fixed” (2.133), “Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla’s fate!” (3.122), “Elysian scenes” (4.45), “Homer’s tripod” (4.51), and “Ulysess” (4.82).

Another way in which Pope mimics epic conventions is through his descriptions of Belinda. In Canto 2.13 he writes that she “Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,/ And, like the sun, they shine on all alike”. He continues in 2.27 with “fair tresses man’s imperial race ensnare”, perhaps a reference to Helen of Troy, whose beauty could cause a battle of epic proportions. Even the scenery of her dressing room is parodied, where “each silver vase in mystic order laid” (1.122). A comment on the seriousness of Belinda’s vanity is brought to light with “The inferior priestess, at her altar’s side,/ Trembling begins the sacred rites of Pride.” (1.127), where the altar is her cosmetics table. Pope, here, refers to Belinda in a goddess fashion, while simultaneously mocking her faults.

This exaggeration of Belinda’s (and her two lock’s) importance is continued with the battles in the text. The first of these occurs in Canto 3, where playing cards are involved. In the final canto, the conflict takes place in the decidedly not as glorious arena of the dressing room. Pope even goes so far as to pun upon the different connotations of “steel” (3.171). Here, the dangerous object is the pair of scissors, not the sword found in epics. The satirical elements of Pope’s text are apparent, as are his ties to epic conventions.

The thing that struck me the most about Stage Beauty was the importance of the theater during this particular time period. Maybe my previous notions of the early theater were wrong, and the theater was really as popular as it appeared in the film. The alternative to this is that the theater just seemed important, as it was the main focus of the film. Either way, I was surprised at the breadth of the theater, from Maria’s fledgling tavern stage to King Charles’s gender-bending court dramas. I had always imagined those of the lower-class not having time for the theater. I suppose that when one is living in a time that offers few (comparatively speaking) recreational or leisure options, time can be allotted for the theater. In addition to this breadth, I was also taken aback by Kynaston’s reaction to Maria’s acting fame. I can understand that creative jealousy is especially biting, but I didn’t expect him to become so obsessed, especially since he was familiar with her prior to her fame. I suppose when one has devoted the majority of one’s life to one venue (i.e. theater), it is equally hard to accept upstaging and become acclimated to another line of work.

In Book 3, God explains the notion of free will to his Son. One may think this explanation is unfair, which is understandable if approaching the text from a human/mortal point of view. At the same time, God’s free will makes more sense, and is properly defended, if one views the text through the lens of a creator. Ultimately, one’s opinion of God’s free will is decided largely by perspective.

In the first sense God appears as an unjust tyrant, seeking only to create beings that give “true allegiance, constant faith or love” (104) to him. It is unrealistic to assume these beings will demonstrate self-control and reliance when they are “free to fall” (99). After all, God has “foreknowledge” (118) of Adam and Eve’s weaknesses, since he was the one who created them in this way. It almost seems as if God is waiting for his creations to trip up and disobey him. This would further establish the weakness of humans in comparison to the Creator, while at the same time augmenting God’s dominance over his realm. Adam and Eve are more than fine (paradisiacal, in fact) with the state of existence they are occupying prior to the fall. Introducing the concepts of free will and temptation to them, just so God is honored, makes this idea of free will seem worthless. If God has knowledge of what Adam and Eve will do with their free will, then the definition of ‘free’ must be questioned.

The argument against God’s free will has value, as does the argument for it. The main flaw in this human/mortal perspective is that it assumes God wishes man to err. Quite the opposite, he derives “pleasure” from “such obedience paid” (107). He wishes wo/man to ignore temptation as they act as “authors to themselves in all” (122). And, since God has foreknowledge of what temptations will lead to one’s fall, he has created an alternative. This is his “mercy and justice” (132). When “man falls deceived” he may opt (also related to free-will) to “find grace” (131). The argument could be made that this is just another excuse for man to rely on God. However, from God’s perspective, that is following the natural order. Wo/man is meant to be subservient to God, since God did create her/him. It is almost useless to talk about fairness, from God’s perspective, when such a disparity exists between the Creator and the created.

Just as Venus and Diana, the classical twin sisters, are intrinsically related, so too are the principles each goddess represents. These would be marital chastity (Venus) and virginity (Diana). Both of these characteristics involve sexual restraint and denial of temptation, albeit in different venues. Therefore, when these sisters come into contact with one another in Book 3, Canto 6, of Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, it is no surprise that their roles blend somewhat, blurring delineations in the goddess/whore spectrum.

This term, in this section of the text, is not specific to one sister or the other. Here, both goddesses display an inkling of both characteristics, which is a departure from previous representations of the goddesses. (I.e. Venus is traditionally depicted as more of a loose woman, and Diana, classically, as strictly virginal). It is also worthy to note that the term ‘goddess/whore’ can be loosely equated with the terms/dichotomies ‘pure/impure’ or ‘noble/common’. So, the question is not whether each lives up to their expectations as goddesses (which would characterize Venus as outwardly lusty), but whether each is noble or pure.

In stanzas 11-25, Venus is characterized not only by her lustiness, but also by her maternal duties. Spenser writes that “She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things/ Unto the man, that of him tidings to her brings” (12), which emphasizes her sexual role. Also, she makes known that she belongs “in beds, bowres, in banckets, and in feasts”. (22) However, this impurity is tempered by the relentless search for her son, who “So from her often (he) had fled away,/When she for ought him sharpely did reprove”. (11) When she speaks to those who have been afflicted by his arrows, she assumes blame “sweetly”, as “she did smile thereat”. (15) This ongoing quest to find the son who disobeyed her highlights her role and concern as a mother, thereby making her appear nobler. She also is able to justify her lustiness as a duty to Jove she is meant to fulfill.

Venus’s juxtaposition to the goddess Diana in this scene strangely reinforces her ‘goddess’ role. Perhaps this is due to the portrayal of Diana in an uncharacteristically ‘whorish’ manner. Here Diana expresses an emotional coldness that is rude, yet legitimizes her role as a firm goddess, worthy of the power she wields. Despite this hardened, masculine tone, Spenser’s word choice regarding descriptions of Diana fall into the ‘whore’ end of the spectrum. For example, her hair which ‘Now loose about her shoulders hong undight/ And were with sweet Ambrosia all besprinkled light”. (18) Additionally, “she was ashamed to be so loose surprised” (19) and her hunts are depicted as being in “wanton” (22) wilderness. Furthermore, her desire to hunt “salvage beasts” (22), evokes an all too raw, untamed, image of the supposedly quiet virgin.

In class today we discussed the possible facets of Herod’s personality, and in particular how these relate to his actions towards Mariam. Expanding on these ideas, I’d like to frame them within certain passages in the text.
The first thing that must be realized about Herod is that he, at the core, is lesser than Mariam. He was the one who ‘married up’ and gained wealth/status by being introduced into the Jewish monarchy. Alexandra, Mariam’s mother, sums this up quite well with “What kingdom’s right could cruel Herod claim?/ Was he not Esau’s issue, heir of hell?/ Then what succession can he have but shame?/ Did not his ancestor his birthright sell?” (1.2). Granted that Alexandra certainly has a right to be angry at Herod, but these lines belie the tension of the situation Herod has created within Mariam’s family.
This sense of Herod feeling like he is an outsider or is acting unrightfully as a ruler is apparent in the fourth act. Responding to Mariam’s funeral garb, he says, “Art thou not Jewry’s queen, and Herod’s too?/ Be my commandress, be my sovereign guide;/ To be by thee directed I will woo,/ For in thy pleasure lies my highest pride.” (4.3 11-14) While Herod does respond this way in part because of his physical attraction to Mariam, the use of royal terms (i.e. queen, commandress, sovereign) alludes to her dominance/higher status over Herod. Along with this dominance come a sense of fear, which is shown in lines such as “And therefore I did justly doom him dead/ To rid the realm from peril, me from fear” (4.3). In addition to this, Herod is on some level dependent on Mariam, as evidenced by: “She must not, shall not, die./ Without her I most miserable am” (4.4 91-92).
Herod also displays inconsistency, as he recants his decision to kill Mariam’s grandfather with: “I wish I had a kingdom’s treasure spent,/ So I had ne’er expelled Hyrcanus’ spirit” (4.3) He also rebukes the nuntio for referring to Mariam’s hand in the singular form, when he himself was the first to do so. (5.1 150-153) Indeed, hypocrisy- and a general unwillingness to accept his own faults- constitute a large facet of Herod’s personality, as evidenced by the lines: “Sohemus false? Go, let him die;/ Stay not to suffer him to speak a word./Oh, damned villain! Did he falsify, The oath he swore ev’n of his own accord?” (4.4, 13-16). Herod speaks this when, in fact, he is the one who has lied to Mariam by ordering her death without her knowing. These ideas are mirrored in 4.4 69-70, where Herod claims his heart to be “guiltless”. Furthermore, when speaking to Salome he states, “I’m glad that she for innocent is known” (4.7), referring to Mariam. This conflicts with his previous impressions of the queen, and reflects poorly on his judgment as a ruler (or tyrant).
Another focus of Herod’s personality is his preoccupation with himself. His obsession with Mariam, and her beauty, may seem to be purely external. However, this enamored state is a manifestation of his inward self and his helpless reliance on her. In 4.4 Herod says, “Even for love of thee/ I do profoundly hate thee”. If he were to focus outwardly, instead of on himself, he would find Mariam feels the same way as he does. She “never loved for love” (4.8, 13) and does not wish to place everything on Herod’s “unstable ground” (4.3).

This may seem a tad obvious, but one of the main advantages to viewing the play- as opposed to simply reading it- is that the intricacies of characters and relationships can be more fully realized. As with any adaptation of play to film, there is a risk that elements (dealing with both physical properties and the underlying meaning) of the play/script will be omitted or forgotten. However, I trust that Olivier had done his homework before making the film. The fact that the movie was essentially a play captured on film makes this version of King Lear seem particularly legitimate. Also, I know that Olivier is regarded as a respected filmmaker.
Tactics used by Olivier to engage his film’s audience included the use of extreme close-ups and actors making eye contact with the camera as a way of translating script “asides”. These were especially effective when implemented by the villains of the play.
The true natures of these conspirators were further revealed by means of the actors’ intonation of speech, body language, and emotion when performing actions. For instance, Regan’s coolly calculating- yet seemingly innocent- demeanor came to life in the scene involving the gouging of Gloucester’s eyes. Before seeing this scene in the flesh, I underestimated the extent to which this daughter could embody evilness. Perhaps this is due to the juxtaposition, in both the film and the text, of the harshness her sister Goneril possesses.
The aesthetic quality of the movie was obviously reliant on the available technology of the era in which it was filmed. While not up to par with modern movie-making techniques, the acting quality more than made up for this weakness. Even the actors in secondary roles (think- Kent) successfully walked the line between being heavy-handed and being overly subtle. The weakest point in the film was the scene where Lear and his followers are caught in the storm. Either the special effects budget should have been increased for this scene, or some lines should have been cut.

While reading Twelfth Night, I couldn’t help but wonder: why wouldn’t Orsino just court Olivia himself? Although all is resolved at the conclusion of the play (though Malvolio justly exits bitterly), Cesario creates quite a mess when employed as the count’s messenger. Not only does Olivia never come around to accepting Orsino’s affections, but she also ends up favoring Viola instead!

In class we discussed the issue of pursuit, which is first alluded to in a dialogue between Curio and the count. (1.1 16-22) By using the quick wit and skilled tongue of Cesario, Orsino heightens the excitement of his game. The fact that more people are involved makes his courting of Olivia seem a more important affair. Just as in the similarly themed sonnets of this era, Orsino is addicted to the chase. Later on he tells Viola, “We men may say more, swear more, but indeed our shows are more than will; for still we prove much in our vows, but little in our love.” (2.4 116-118) This echoes a similar sentiment he relates to her in lines 31-33 of the same scene, “For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, than women’s are.” Indeed, his words do come to fruition when finally speaking with Olivia face-to-face: “You uncivil lady, to whose ingrate and unauspicious altars my soul the faithfull’st off’rings hath breathed out that e’er devotion tendered- what shall I do?” (5.1 109-112)

In addition to this, Orsino creates a distance between himself and Olivia by sending Viola to do his bidding. This means he doesn’t have to think of any impromptu flatteries or, as evidenced by the previous quotation, even act the tiniest bit gentlemanly, or tender, which would not make Otis Redding proud. This role is not limited only to Twelfth Night. There are plenty of Orsino’s in the romantic comedies of today. When courting Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks hides behind the security of a computer in You’ve Got Mail. And, when Russell learns that Penny Lane is back in town, William is the one who delivers her a nervous message (Almost Famous).

Which roughly leads me to my next point as to why Cesario is necessary to Orsino. The role of the go-between, or confidante, is timeless in this genre. One can look in opera and see this with Figaro in The Barber of Seville (which I would recommend you seeing). Or, jump ahead to a far more modern time, where Billy Crystal attempts to woo a girl for that really tall guy in My Giant (which I would never recommend you seeing). All joking aside, elements of Twelfth Night do resonate in these popular examples. Cesario at first seems an unusual player in Orsino’s pursuit of Olivia. However, she is necessary to his methods of courting and the genre itself.

It was mentioned in class that a great difference in subject matter existed between the Wife of Bath’s prologue and actual tale. At first, I too had trouble making the logical jump from the very real details of the Wife’s sexual conquests (and her prowess) in the prologue to her fantastical and courtly tale. There are, however, ways in which her tale mirrors her prologue.

Again, the whole anti-/feminist conflict reappears in her tale. Perhaps I’m approaching Chaucer’s writing from an all-too-modern perspective, but the fact that the price for the knight’s “rafte hire maydenhed” (888) is finding an answer to a comparatively simple question does not seem a fair punishment to me. The Wife’s glossing over of the knight’s misdeed makes it seem as if she is accepting of his action, thereby backing an anti-feminist perspective. Another example of this occurs in lines 929-934, where the Wife speaks of the effect of flattery on women as a whole. Her words, “Been we ylymed, bothe moore and lesse”, label women not just as desirous of flatteries, but moreover as beings who are dependent upon the ego-boostings of men. She even goes so far as to retell most of Ovid’s story about King Midas, upholding the belief that “women konne no thing hele” (950). On the other hand, one of the main concepts of the Wife’s tale deals with women’s dominion over men, which would then categorize her as proto-feminist. Here, the knight submits not only to the old woman but to the queen as well. (lines 1230 and 1042, respectively) Chaucer allows the old woman, through the Wife’s words, to voice her opinions to the knight for a substantial amount of time.

This old woman in some ways can be compared to the Wife herself. Neither are members of the nobility. Both must defend themselves with words. The old woman does this when speaking to the knight about the advantages of poverty, wisdom, old age, and unattractiveness. The Wife memorably says, “He nath nat every vessel al of gold/ Somme been of tree, and doon hir lord servyse”. (101-102) Also, both women feel the need to impart some sort of wisdom on the men who surround them (i.e. the knight, Pardoner, Summoner, and Friar).

The idea of ‘mastery’ over men serves as another link between the prologue and tale. The Wife ends the prologue by speaking of how she coerced her fifth husband into giving her “By maistrie, al the soveraynetee”. (818) Thus, it does make logical sense that her tale would touch upon this idea, no matter how fictionally.

While initially reading Gawain, I noticed a fair amount of feminine qualities associated with the knight. This can be contrasted with the masculine traits exerted by Beowulf. Further, issues of heroism, mythology, and narrative style/detail, in relation to masculinity/femininity, are also worthy of comparison. Be aware that since my translation is a bit different certain words I quote may vary from yours.

SGGK begins with a listing of heroic men throughout history/mythology and the deeds they carried out. The audience is to make a connection between Aeneas, a knight who “vanquished great nations” (1.3) and “was found to be the truest on earth”(1.2), and Sir Gawain. Even a description of Guinevere harks back to Greek mythology, as the queen “glanced from eyes that were grey” (1.91), reminiscent of the goddess Athena. However, one gets the impression that those in Arthur’s court are attempting to imitate these mythological figures instead of actually following through with equally as great feats of their own.

For one thing, there is the great amount of detail and time put into outfitting Gawain for his journey to the Green Knight’s chapel. Just the fact that his character has enough leisure time to bedeck himself before battle, much less in gold, speaks volumes about the relative luxuries of Arthurian courtly culture. This is mirrored in the actual language used throughout the work. As opposed to the comparatively sparse and action-driven descriptions found in Beowulf, SGGK often digresses into scenes of color, feasting, and relaxation. It is also interesting that Gawain does not take part in one of the few masculine/heroic activities offered throughout the tale. While the lord and his men hunt a fox, Gawain “at home slept through the cold morning beneath his costly curtains” (Book 3). A final point I feel is significant to the tale (though perhaps not so much to masculinity/femininity) is the use of color in relation to Gawain and the Green Knight. While the Green Knight’s depiction is decidedly green, Gawain’s is equally important with regards to gold. Perhaps this poses a contrast between nature and industry. Just a thought, which I’m afraid I have no time to expand on.