Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Pride and Prejudice (pg. 1-156)

It is immediately apparent from the opening set up of Pride and Prejudice that money, inheritance, and class are of utmost importance in the world occupied by the novel. However, within this more general motif, a few things stood out to me. Besides the fact that the Bennet girls out of necessity seek wealthy husbands in order to support them, it seems there is another less obvious motive for marrying rich. Mrs. Bennet says: "What an excellent father you have, girls . . . I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; or me either, for that matter" (5). The idea that children have to "repay" their parents is not entirely foreign, in that children often take care of parents as they age, but Mrs. Bennet seems to imply some financial recompense as well. If this is the case, then the burden a daughter faces by not inheriting her father's estate (as the Bennet girls do) is twofold: firstly supporting herself, but also "making amends," financial or otherwise, to her mother after her father dies. If the Bennet girls do not marry into money, they let down their parents as well as relinquishing their own comfortable life.
Though this necessity of marrying into wealth is obvious, the moral judgment of considering money when making romantic decisions is not entirely clear. Elizabeth understands why Wickham would pursue Miss King (with her newly inherited fortune) rather than her, but doesn't understand Darcy's justification of why he advised Bingley away from marrying Jane (who is poor). This is a bit of a double standard: it is acceptable to pursue wealth if you do not have it, but unacceptable (at least to Elizabeth) to be concerned about marrying into wealth if you already are wealthy. While Elizabeth is generally an extremely likable, rational, and honest character, she is still also subject to the social ideals and necessity of marrying for money: for instance, she likes Colonel Fitzwilliam well enough but can't even consider marrying him because he does not inherit the family's fortune. This emphasizes the extent to which money is engrained into females' consciousness, and that this somewhat unsavory pursuit is essentially unavoidable regardless of quality of character.
Amidst this constant background of the importance of money, the borders between socioeconomic classes are described as artificial and in many ways meaningless. The most obvious example of this is the pretense and snobbery of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Collins also says "Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinctions of rank preserved" (124). Lady Catherine's preference about clothing here reveals the fabricated nature of aristocracy: at this point, the only distinguishing feature to recommend the aristocracy or really differentiate them from other classes is clothing.

Another obvious motif throughout the novel is the process of courtship. I found the successes, failures, and processes of the the various different courtships that occur to be quite revealing about morals and standards of the time. Unlike the Enlightenment periodicals, in which a women's coquettishness is heavily criticized, the relationship between Jane and Bingley presents the dangers of the opposite: insufficient display of affection. Charlotte says of the couple "he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on" (15). Partly as a consequence of Jane's subtlety, Darcy advises Bingley against pursuing Jane further. Not only is flirtation no longer a problem: it is actually a necessity.
Beyond this initial condition for courtship, a more profound question arises: to what degree should you really know someone in order to make a good decision about their character, and whether to marry them? How can you judge someone objectively? Or is subjective judgment more important in the realm of love? On one hand, Wickham points "I have known [Darcy] too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible to be impartial" (58). In this way of thinking, knowing someone too well actually impedes objectivism. However, this applies to a friendship rather than a romance, and must be taken with a grain of salt given Wickham's deception about Darcy. On the other end of this spectrum are Jane and Bingley: Charlotte and others wonder whether they can actually be in love after knowing each other for so short a time. In general, however, it seems that this is not considered problematic, and in fact I was struck by the speed at which most of the courtships/marriages in the novel occur. Because marriage is primarily practical, it is logical that the time period of "getting to know each other" is less important, however, for cases of actual love such as Jane and Bingley, perhaps speed simply intensifies the process but is not actually problematic.
Another somewhat bizarre characterization of courtship, related to the haste with which it often occurs, is unwillingness. Mr. Collins says to Lizzie, "You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been a little unwillingness" (80), and then later refuses to accept that Elizabeth is actually rejecting him. On one level, Mr. Collins is too silly and pompous to realize that he is being rejected; on another,  he actually relishes in coercing Lizzie into something she doesn't want (albeit unsuccessfully). This strange joy in her unwillingness seems to contrast the earlier emphasis on the necessity of female flirtation: being too eager. It also communicates some level of misogyny, in that women are required to be slightly desexualized, and "unwilling" so that they can be appropriately overpowered by men. However, since Lizzie is able to reject Mr. Collins' advances, and is obviously not in any real danger, it seems that perhaps Mr. Collins' attitude is somewhat outdated and gradually becoming less socially acceptable.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

The Tatler and the Spectator, Selections

My first, very obvious question regarding these readings: why is everything capitalized? Is this simply in the style of the age, or is there a specific reason? It seems to me to communicate some kind of authority and objectiveness, which somewhat contrasts the fact that these periodicals are concerned with ideas and human nature rather than facts or news.
I observed that in several of the selections, the majority of the piece is written in third person, but switches to first person at the end (with the exception of Tatler 107, which is entirely first person). I think the initial writing in third person emphasizes the universal nature of these discussions, and the fact that they are intended to apply to humanity generally rather than the author or any individual specifically. It also may explain their wide appeal! However, the final switch to first person provides a reminder that this entirely impersonal approach is infeasible, and that of course, though these ideas may be widely applicable, the level at which they can be implemented is individual. Similarly, this "I" contrasts the alleged objectivism of ordinary periodicals, distinguishing The Tatler and Spectator from other publications (and perhaps implying that since true objectivism is impossible, publications should make no illusion of presenting unbiased facts and news, and instead concern themselves with "self-definition" and social theory). Tatler No. 225 seems to further comment on journalism. It explains that "he that is now a Wit in Conversation, would be considered as a Spreader of false News is in Business," perhaps implying that just as Wit may be perceived as good until we realize that it does not make polite conversation, bearers of actual news, though they may seem truthful,, are often biased and inaccurate.

On a different note, I noticed a significant emphasis on the importance of pleasantries and a focus on the good rather than the bad. Tatler No 225 explains how in polite conversation, "we should always be inclined rather to hide than rally each others infirmities," and Spectator No 291 similarly explains, "a true Critick ought to dwell rather up on Excellencies than Imperfections." Here, the multidimensional nature of humanity is recognized, however, in order for society to function properly (in conversation or in criticism), it is necessary to sweep imperfections under the rug. What is important is not brutal honesty, but rather presentation, and adhering to social standards.
Spectator 411 and 414 address similar ideas in the discussion of nature and art. It is described how though humans like nature better than art, "we find the works of nature still more pleasant, the more they resemble those of Art" (414). Nature itself is wild and unruly, but humans like it when its appears on the surface to resemble Art, something controllable, created, and civilized. This suggests that humans are basally attracted to disorder (nature), but because of social norms and expectations, value the appearance of civilization and rationality.

Relating to these ideas about surface pleasantries and order versus underlying character are the ideas about wit and logic. Spectator 291 advocates the necessity of a "clear and Logical head" in both authorship and criticism, and the value of reason more generally is espoused continuously through these selections. Reason, logic, and wit are all to some extent related here: wit requires some degree of logic, however, it also is deemed inappropriate in the context of criticism, and, "in an improper place . . . is impertinent and absurd." On one hand, reason is ideal, and wit undermines the proper operation of reason. On other hand "productions of a great genius, with many lapses and inadvertencies, are infinitely preferable to the Works of an Inferior kind of Author, which are scrupulously exact and conformable to all the rules of correct writing." Though though reason is preferable, "lapses and inadvertencies," i.e. what allows wit, are necessary for the creation of Art. Again, the human tendency away from order and reason is emphasized. This is presented as an inevitable truth, rather than a call for reform, illustrating the contemplative, rather than prescriptive or informative purpose of these periodicals.

Though the human taste for chaos is presented, Spectator 409 provides a contrast to this in its focus on defining "good taste" in writing. This illustrates the immense value placed on this quality of good taste, and thus the social focus on self-betterment and intellect. The "conversant among the Writings of the most Polite Authors" or "conversation with Men of a Polite Genius"described here are valued much more highly than the "polite conversation" described in Tatler 225, because they enable an individual to hone their personal characteristics. This "good taste" is in opposition to "wit," although, in the picture drawn by the Tatler and Spectator, humans inevitably possess both. "Good taste" surpasses wit because whereas wit represents degradation of something for the sake of humor, whereas "good taste" represents a desire for improvement.  Here, "turns of Wit, and forced conceits, which have no manner of Influence, either for the bettering or enlarging of the Mind of him who reads them." Ironic, given that these pieces are quite "witty" themselves.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Twelfth Night: Originally in English and a Comedy! A Lit Hum first!

Warning: this may be a long post- it's hard to cover a whole Shakespearean comedy in 250 words!

Nature and Love
Just as we talked about the relationship between love and nature, and the idea of "love as a plague" in Decameron, Twelfth Night explores whether love is a necessary and civilizing force or an uncontrollable, natural force. In the opening of the play, Orsino says "And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me" (1.1). Here, desire is depicted as a natural force, much as we have seen before. However, I found it interesting that desire is not something which consumes or overcomes an individual, but rather something that Orsino is "pursued" by, and thus it seems is trying to escape. On the other hand, "hounds" are hunting dogs presumably owned by nobility, so being pursued by hounds is slightly different than being pursued by, say, wolves. This nuance relates well to the play's generally more favorable treatment of love as a force which, though it may cause individual unhappiness, is ultimately acceptable and favorable. This is echoed near the end of the play, when, after recognizing her brother, Viola says "Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love." (3.3, near the end of the scene). Here, she recasts something natural and brutal-tempests- as something "fresh" and "kind." This switch in the depiction of nature occurs at the end of the play when love "plays out," that is, Viola finds Sebastian and reveals her true identity as a woman, and is able then to marry Orsino. Perhaps this transition from depicting nature as chaotic to characterizing it more positively echoes the shifting role of love from a catalyst of chaos to an enabler of actual happiness.
In several instances, Twelfth Night more explicitly references the relationship between civilization and love. In Act 1 Scene 4, Orsino instructs the disguised Viola to "Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds/ Rather than make unprofited return" (1.4.267) in her attempts to woo Olivia. Here, Orsino's passion explicitly leads to degeneration of "civil bounds," not simply for himself, but for those surrounding him. This illustrates that while love may ultimately be a positive force, it certainly leads to disorder and uncivilized conduct. This relates to nature in that humans' natural state is chaos rather than civilization, so love, as a natural force, understandably causes regression from constructed society. 
Another interesting contribution to the characterization of love comes from Orsino at the end of the play. After Sebastian appears and Viola's identity is revealed, Orsino says, "One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A natural perspective, that is and is not!" (5.2415). Though this refers to the Sebastian/Viola resemblance, it also echoes the idea that true love comes when two bodies are occupied by a single soul (much as in Aristophanes' speech in Symposium). If this is the message, it is slightly complicated by the fact that it blurs the lines between familial love (between Sebastian and Viola) and romantic love. However, it does provide a way to understand love in the context of Viola's fluid gender in the play: if the "face, voice and habit" are what is important, then it is understandable that Orsino could so quickly go from seeing Viola disguised as a servant to loving her romantically. However, this idea that "bodies" are of lesser importance simultaneously makes it more tragic that Olivia's love for Viola must necessarily dissipate the moment Viola's gender is revealed.  


Women
Much like Lysistrata, this comedy contains strong female characters, namely Viola. However, the attitudes towards women are still far from favorable. Early in the play, Aguecheek asks "What's that?" about Maria (1.3.162), referring to her as an object rather than a human. Though I think this is intended to be funny, it is nonetheless very insulting. Similarly, Belch later says to Maria after they were plotting against Malvolio, "Good night, Penthesilea" (2.3), Penthesilea being a brutal female warrior. The fact that a clever, cunning woman must be compared to a warrior illustrates a lack of acceptance, and maybe even fear, of intelligent women. On the other hand, Belch seems attracted to Maria's mind, and Aguecheek and Belch joke that they could marry her after hearing her scheme, making it unclear whether or not these characteristics are acceptable for females.
Further insight into the views of women is revealed through the difference between the female-female (Olivia-Viola) and the male-male (Antonio-Sebastian) attraction in the play. Olivia questions Cessario (Viola) about whether she is from a noble family, and is initially attracted to her delicate form and her beautiful face. On the other hand, Antonio's (arguably homoerotic) loyalty to Sebastian seems less superficial. He follows Sebastian to Orsino's court despite the fact  that he knows he is in danger, saying "that danger shall seem sport (2.2). Later on, in a very sweet gesture, he gives Sebastian his purse, saying "Haply your eye shall light upon some toy" (3.3). The fact that this male-male relationship seems more genuine than the female relationship and rooted in actual love rather than just attraction casts females in a comparatively unfavorable and shallow light. 
In an additional jab at women, Orsino says "For women are as roses, whose fair flower/ Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour" (2.4). Though this depicts women favorably in the sense of being "roses," this comparison alludes only to beauty and not to substance, and essentially says that when a woman's beauty withers (which happens quickly) there is nothing valuable left. Thus, despite what appears to be a progressive premise for the play, a woman acting like a man, it is nonetheless relatively misogynistic. 


Fools
The role of fools is quite different in Twelfth Night than in King Lear. Because this is a comedy, the fool seems much less out of place in the context of the plot and other characters. Whereas in Lear, the Fool provides subversive commentary, in a comedy this is unnecessary because everyone already more or less seems to speak their minds. Because the whole play is more lighthearted, Feste occasionally provides a somewhat sad counterpoint to the plot line. For example, his song at the end of the play (after everyone else is happily married) talks about his own rejections (being turned away from gates), providing a dose of reality that prevents the ending from falling into corniness. 
Because this is a comedy, foolery itself is far more prevalent than in Lear. Feste says, "Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines every where" (3.1), illustrating that while he may be the officially designated fool, everyone else is acting just as foolishly (if not more so). Whereas in Lear the Fool's character did highlight others' insanity and poor choices, here Feste serves to draw attention to everyone's hilariously misguided actions. In a sense, everyone plays "fool" at some point. In particular, Malvolio becomes a secondary fool after Maria tricks him into acting so bizarrely. However, while Feste gets away with his madness because it is his job, Malvolio is imprisoned. Again, in this case foolery provides a reminder about the role of madness in the world: though everyone is acting somewhat madly in the play, Malvolio reminds us that in fact this cannot work in society.    
While in Lear, the fool provides insight while everyone else lacks it, Feste is more directly recognized for his perceptiveness. Viola says, "And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time" (3.1). Perhaps being slightly mad themselves, whether crazed by love, trapped in another gender, or so on, enables the characters to understand the importance and value of the actual fool.



Other interesting things I noticed
-Perspectives about mourning and death: Feste says, "The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven." (1.5.361). Feste points out that in the living world, it is not our job to be concerned with those who are dead. For Olivia, this inappropriate consideration of death interferes with what should and does consume the living world: love. By saying that considering those are dead is foolish, Feste also implies the pointlessness of seeking glory after death and worrying about your own afterlife. Finally, it seems we have moved totally beyond kleos!
-Class Mobility: When Malvolio gets the letter allegedly from Olivia, he imagines what it would be like to be ruler, "I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control" (2.5). The absurdity and hilarity of this scene in which Malvolio acts as a king illustrates both the extent to which lower classes are looked down upon, and the impossibility of actually climbing the social latter, even by marrying into wealthier class.