From Beowulf to Joyce: An Introduction to English Literature by r t

From Beowulf to Joyce:

An Introduction to English Literature By Robert T. Tuohey Electronic Edition: 2009. Originally published 2001, Taiyuan University, Taiyuan, Shanxi, China. All Rights Reserved. Preface Traditional literary forms are three: poetry, drama, and the short story/essay; since circa 1600 the novel is added (1). Our goal in this course is to trace the major developments of these four forms as expressed in the literature of Great Britain. As the technical definition of “literature” is somewhat complex, and will not be formally introduced until the end of this course with the work of James Joyce (2), at this point we may content ourselves with a common or general understanding of the term. To wit: Written works having excellence of form or expression and dealing with ideas of permanent interest (3). Next, we turn our attention to the special or distinctive characteristics of English literature. Our problem here is the same as in attempting to sum up any long cultural tradition (in the

case of England, we have roughly 1200 years of literature). Again without becoming too technical at this early stage, I believe that we can at least mention the following two traits: 1) a pre-occupation with literary form or style, and 2) a humanism that takes an understated, humorous approach. Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Dickens often, though by no means always, all exemplify this “English style”. I would now like to provide a very brief overview of the entire course. The chart below will serve as a kind of roadmap for our study. Literary Period

Major Writer/Work

Form

1. Anglo-Saxon 600AD – 1066 AD

Beowulf

Poetry: alliterative

2. Middle English 1066 – 1500

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Poetry: alliterative

3. Classical 1600 - 1700

4. 18th Century 1700 – 1800

5. Romanticism 1770- 1850

Chaucer

Poetry: rhymed

Shakespeare

Drama: blank verse

Milton

Poetry: blank verse, Latinate

King James Bible

Prose, Poetry: Latinate

Defoe

Novel: didactic (entertainment)

Swift

Novel, Essay: didactic (social)

Fielding

Novel: didactic (entertainment)

The English Romantic Poets

Poetry: various styles

6. Victorian c. 1850 – c. 1900

Dickens Austen

Novel: fully developed Novel: of manners

7. Modernism

Joyce

Novel: innovative Short story: realistic

Eliot

Poetry: innovative

The four forms are thus spread over seven periods, with detailed discussions and excerpts of the 14 major topics listed. The number of in-depth discussions has intentionally been limited to a manageable size: too often introductory courses present the student with so

many details that the main points are lost! These being my approach, several writers of moderate importance only receive passing attention, and many minor authors are not mentioned at all. Footnotes 1. Actually, the novel did exist in ancient times but was little used; in fact, only five examples survive from classical Greece and Rome. 2. See James Joyce’s a Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, last chapter, for an outline of this definition. 3. Merriam-Webster Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, Inc. Springfield, Mass. USA, 1994.

CONTENTS Preface Chapter I. Background Lecture Excerpts: Germania, On the Ruin of Britain Chapter II. Beowulf Lecture Excerpt: Beowulf Chapter III. The Norman Period and Middle English Lecture Chapter IV. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Lecture Excerpt: Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Chapter V Late Medieval Times Chapter VI. Chaucer Lecture Excerpt: Canterbury Tales Chapter VII. Shakespeare Lecture

Excerpts: Sonnet 18, Julius Caesar , Hamlet Chapter VIII. Milton Lecture Excerpt: Paradise Lost Chapter IX. The King James Bible Excerpt: Genesis Chapter X. The Enlightenment Lecture Excerpts: Robinson Crusoe, The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling, A Modest Proposal Chapter XI. Romanticism Lecture Poems: The Tiger, A Red, Red, Rose, Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, Ode to the West Wind, Ode to a Nightingale Chapter XII. Victorian Lecture Excerpts: Great Expectations, Mansfield Park Chapter XIII. Modernism Lecture Excerpts: Dubliners, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, Preludes

CHAPTER I BACKGROUND

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Contents: 1. Geography Basics: modern and ancient 2. The English Language: Definition and Division into Historical Periods 3. Outline of English History 600BC - 1066AD 4. Outline of Ancient and Medieval Documents Concerning England 5. Internet Links --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------1. Geography Basics Modern The bare fundamentals of Great Britain's geography are as follows. Major land areas: England, Scotland, and Ireland; capitals being, respectively, London, Edinburgh, and Dublin. Within the area of England you should also know the location of Wales (adjective: Welsh), and Cornwall (adjective: Cornish), and the rivers Thames and Severn. The North Sea is found on the eastern side of the islands, the Atlantic Ocean is to the west. The English Channel, on the North Sea side connecting Great Britain with France, is the traditional gateway to the rest of the European world.

Medieval Of the seven feudal kingdoms), only North Umbria (the first center of Anglo-Saxon culture) and Wessex (the second, and home of Alfred the Great) need concern you. You should, further, understand the division of Great Britain into Anglo-Saxon England and the Celtic Matrix (Scotland, Ireland, and Wales) as a result of the Anglo-Saxon - Celt Wars. 2.The English Language Definition The Germanic language spoken in England which takes its name from the Angles (who first committed their dialect to writing) and was extended to refer to all dialects of the vernacular, Saxon and Jutish too. Old English (formerly called Anglo-Saxon) is the English language of the period ending the Norman Conquest (c. 1100-1150); Middle English is used to describe the language from then to about 1500; Modern English, founded on the dialect of the East Midlands in Middle English, extends from 1500 to the present day. (from The Oxford Companion to English Literature, 1985; p. 319). Historical Periods and Classic Examples Old English ? - c.1100-1150: Beowulf, The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Middle English 1150 – 1500: The Canterbury Tales Modern English 1500 – present: Paradise Lost; the works of Shakespeare; The King James Bible (1611); Ulysses (1922). 3. Outline of English History 600BC - 1066AD Below are listed the five key periods, with notes as necessary. I. The Celtic Migrations 600BC - 300BC II. Roman Rule 55BC - 407AD III. The Anglo-Saxon Period 450AD - 1066 i. Anglo-Saxon (and Jute) - Celt Wars 450 - 600 ii. The Celtic Escape (formation of the Matrix, and cultural division of Great Britain)

iii. Creation of the King Arthur legends c.500 iv. The exact date of the introduction of Christianity into England is unknown; 200 AD, however, is a probable guess. Initially, this new religion had little impact in England; by 450, however, it was beginning to gain serious strength. In 597 St. Augustine founded the Church of England in Canterbury, himself becoming the first archbishop. IV. The Viking Invasions/Wessex Culture/Danish Rule 860 -1066 i. The Viking Invasions begin c. 860 (Viking = a Scandinavian pirate; Scandinavia meaning Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Iceland). ii. Wessex Culture a. Alfred the Great 848 - 899, r. 871- d. King of the West Saxons; successfully fought back the Vikings; actively promoted Anglo-Saxon culture (most notably editing the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, c.890). b. Edgar (great grandson of Alfred) c. 943 - 975. Under Edgar the area called England is, for the first time, united as one country (albeit briefly). iii. Danish Rule 1016 - 1042 With the passing of Edgar, England soon falls to the Danes (albeit briefly). V. The Norman Conquest 1066 - 1154 The word Norman, while directly referring to Normandy France, is actually derived from the word Norseman, meaning "Northman" = Scandinavian. So what we have is the Vikings, who some time ago, having conquered part of France, now conquer England (albeit -you guessed it - briefly). 5. Outline of Ancient and Medieval Documents Concerning England For the entire period we are discussing (i.e., 600BC - 1066AD), I believe the following nine documents to be the essential primary sources (in other words, written by authors who were close in time to what they wrote about). The basic division of these documents is into Latin (with two Roman and four English writers), and Old English (three Englishmen). Latin 1. Julius Caesar c. 100BC - 44BC C. 58BC De Bellico Gallico (The Gallic Wars) First (brief) description of England and the Celts.

2. Cornelius Tacitus c. 55AD - after 115 C. 100 Germania Tacitus was the greatest of the Imperial Roman historians. This book is the earliest description we have of the Germanic-speaking peoples in Europe (centered about the Rhine). It is from this large group that the Celts had originally come, and from which, after the fall of Rome, the Angles, Saxons, Jutes, and others, would come; Tacitus provides us with many interesting insights into this ancient culture. See following text and notes. 3. Gildas d. 570 C. 540 De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae (The Destruction and Conquest of Britain) The first British historian. This short book begins as a general history of Britain and then gives some details concerning the wars with the Anglo-Saxons (which were occurring at that time). See following text and notes. 4. Bede (or The Venerable Bede) 673 -735 731 Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum (The Ecclesiastical History of the English People) This book is the first detailed history of England (much an improvement over Gildas' work). It covers from the time of Caesar's arrival (c. 55BC) to just four years before the author's death. A main point of the book, as may be guessed from the title, is how the Anglo-Saxons were converted to Christianity. It was translated into Old English in the 890's by order of Alfred the Great. 5. Nennius fl. c. 830 C.830 Historia Britonum (History of the Britons) Historia Britonum is actually a somewhat miscellaneous collection of notes concerning the English Celts and geography of the country; whether this book was actually compiled by Nennius or if he was simply the last compiler/editor is unknown. The work is notable in that it alleges to give the factual background of Arthur: he was not a king but a leader of knights who fought against the Anglo-Saxons. 6. Geoffrey of Monmouth d. 1135 C.1135 Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain) This book, despite the title, is actually no history at all, but rather a romantic, legendary account of the British kings; it concerns particularly King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. As a starting point for his heroic imagination Geoffrey often uses details obtained from Gildas, Bede, Nennius, and, possibly, a lost work which was written in Welsh. Historia Regum Britanniae is noteworthy for firmly establishing, through Geoffrey's wonderful style, the King Arthur legends in European culture (this book, in fact, was one of the most popular of the Middle Ages).

Old English 7. Caedmon fl. c. 670 C. 670 Hymn of Creation (quoted in Bede's Historia) Bede tells us in his Historia that an unschooled herdsman named Caedmon was given divine inspiration and composed, in Old English, paraphrases in poetic form of key Bible stories; he quotes us one example. However that may have been, no work of Caedmon, other than the little quoted by the Venerable Bede, survives today. Thus, with this meager evidence, we may perhaps call Caedmon the father of English poetry. 8. Beowulf Dating from about 800, the author is unknown. In short, the key work of Anglo-Saxon literature. See the following lecture notes for an in-depth description. 9. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Again, circa 800; again, author(s) unknown. The second most important Old English document. It covers, sometimes in detail, sometimes very briefly, the events from the beginning of the Christian era to about 1154. The events recorded are believed to be largely correct (i.e., factual).The Chronicle, although a history, is not written completely in prose, but also occasionally uses poetic form. Although generally the style is far below the magnificence displayed in Beowulf , The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle remains a rich source of historical, linguistic, and literary information.

Excerpts Germania, by Cornelius Tacitus, c. 100AD (As mentioned, Tacitus was the most prominent of the Imperial Roman historians. In this short document he provides us with the earliest known description of the German-speaking peoples of Europe. His presentation is notable in at least two respects. First, we should praise him for his orderly and, basically, objective narration; in this sense, this 1900 year old essay has a rather modern feeling to it. Second, though clearly recognizing that the culture he is outlining is far beneath his own, Tacitus nonetheless finds several points to commend the Germans on (for example, that adultery is uncommon, or that there is no lending of money with interest). And, while doing this, also manages to slyly criticize his own culture. Again, a rather modern touch.) The Inhabitants. 0rigins of the Name "Germany. The Germans themselves I should regard as aboriginal, and not mixed at all with other races through immigration or intercourse (1). For, in former times it was not by land (2) but on shipboard that those who sought to

emigrate would arrive; and the boundless and, so to speak, hostile ocean beyond us, is seldom entered by a sail from our world. And, beside the perils of rough and unknown seas, who would leave Asia, or Africa for Italy for Germany, with its wild country, its inclement skies, its sullen manners and aspect, unless indeed it were his home? In their ancient songs, their only way of remembering or recording the past they celebrate an earth-born god Tuisco, and his son Mannus, as the origin of their race, as their founders. To Mannus they assign three sons, from whose names, they say, the coast tribes are called Ingaevones; those of the interior, Herminones; all the rest, Istaevones. Some, with the freedom of conjecture permitted by antiquity, assert that the god had several descendants, and the nation several appellations, as Marsi, Gambrivii, Suevi, Vandilij. These nine names are traditional to this group (3). The name Germany, on the other hand, they say is modern and newly introduced, from the fact that the tribes which first crossed the Rhine and drove out the Gauls, and are now called Tungrians, were then called Germans. Thus what was the name of a tribe, and not of a race, gradually prevailed, till all called themselves by this selfinvented name of Germans, which the conquerors had first employed to inspire terror. The National War-Songs. They say that Hercules (4), too, once visited them; and when going into battle, they sing of him first of all heroes. They have also those songs of theirs, by the recital of which ("baritus," they call it), they rouse their courage, while from the note they augur the result of the approaching conflict. For, as their line shouts, they inspire or feel alarm. It is not so much an articulate sound, as a general cry of valor. They aim chiefly at a harsh note and a confused roar, putting their shields to their mouth, so that, by reverberation, it may swell into a fuller and deeper sound. Physical Characteristics. For my own part, I agree with those who think that the tribes of Germany are free from all taint of intermarriages with foreign nations, and that they appear as a distinct, unmixed race, like none but themselves. Hence, too, the same physical peculiarities throughout so vast a population. All have fierce blue eyes, red hair, huge frames, fit only for a sudden exertion. They are less able to bear laborious work. Heat and thirst they cannot in the least endure; to cold and hunger their climate and their soil inure them. Climate and Soil. Precious Metals. Their country, though somewhat various in appearance, yet generally either bristles with forests or reeks with swamps; it is more rainy on the side of Gaul, bleaker on that of Noricum and Pannonia (5). It is productive of grain, but unfavorable to fruit-bearing trees; it is rich in flocks and herds, but these are for the most part undersized, and even the cattle have not their usual beauty or noble head. It is number that is chiefly valued; they are in fact the most highly prized, indeed the only riches of the people. Silver and gold the gods have refused to them, whether in kindness or in anger I cannot say. I would not, however, affirm that no vein of German soil produces gold or silver, for who has ever made a search? They care but little to possess or use them. You may see among them vessels of silver, which have been presented to their envoys and chieftains, held as cheap as those of the clay. The border population, however, value gold and silver for their commercial utility, and are familiar with, and show preference for, some of our coins. The tribes of the interior use the simpler and more ancient practice of the barter of commodities (6). They like the old and well known money, coins milled, or showing a twohorse chariot. They likewise prefer silver to gold, not from any special liking, but because a large number of silver pieces is more convenient for use among dealers in cheap and common articles.

Arms, Military Maneuvers, and Discipline. Even iron is not plentiful with them, as we infer from the character of their weapons. But few use swords or long lances. They carry a spear (framea is their name for it), with a narrow and short head, but so sharp and easy to wield that the same weapon serves, according to circumstances, for close or distant conflict. As for the horse-soldier, he is satisfied with a shield and spear; the foot-soldiers also scatter showers of missiles each man having several and hurling them to an immense distance, and being naked or lightly clad with a little cloak. There is no display about their equipment; their shields alone are marked with very choice colours. A few only have body armor, and just one or two here and there a metal or leather helmet. Their horses are remarkable neither for beauty nor for fleetness. Nor are they taught various evolutions after our fashion, but are driven straight forward, or so as to make one wheel to the right in such a compact body that none is left behind another. On the whole, one would say that their chief strength is in their infantry, which fights along with the cavalry; admirably adapted to the action of the latter is the swiftness of certain foot-soldiers, who are picked from the entire youth of their country, and stationed in front of the line. Their number is fixed -- a hundred from each canton; and from this they take their name among their countrymen, so that what was originally a mere number has no become a title of distinction. Their line of battle is drawn up in a wedge-like formation. To give ground, provided you return to the attack, is considered prudence rather than cowardice. The bodies of their slain they carry off even in indecisive engagements. To abandon your shield is the basest of crimes; nor may a man thus disgraced be present at the sacred rites, or enter their council; many, indeed, after escaping from battle, have been executed for their crime. Government. Influence of Women. They choose their kings by birth, their generals for merit. These kings have not unlimited or arbitrary power, and the generals do more by example than by authority. If they are energetic, if they are conspicuous, if they fight in the front, they lead because they are admired. But to reprimand, to imprison, even to flog, is permitted to the priests alone, and that not as a punishment, or at the general's bidding, but, as it were, by the mandate of the god whom they believe to inspire the warrior. They also carry with them into battle certain figures and images taken from their sacred groves. And what most stimulates their courage is, that their squadrons or battalions, instead of being formed by chance or by a fortuitous gathering, are composed of families and clans. Close by them, too, are those dearest to them, so that they hear the shrieks of women, the cries of infants. They are to every man the most sacred witnesses of his bravery: they are his most generous audience. The soldier brings his wounds to mother and wife, who shrink not from counting or even demanding them and who administer food and encouragement to the combatants. Tradition says that armies already wavering and giving way have been rallied by women who, with earnest entreaties and bosoms laid bare, have vividly represented the horrors of captivity, which the Germans fear with such extreme dread on behalf of their women, that the strongest tie by which a state can be bound is the being required to give, among the number of hostages, maidens of noble birth. They even believe that the sex has a certain sanctity and prescience, and they do not despise their counsels, or make light of their answers (7). In Vespasian's days we saw Veleda, long regarded by many as a divinity. In former times, too, they venerated Aurinia, and many other women, but not with servile flatteries, or with sham deification (8). Deities. Mercury is the deity whom they chiefly worship, and on certain days they deem it right to sacrifice to him even with human victims. Hercules and Mars they appease with more lawful offerings. Some of the Suevi also sacrifice to Isis (9). Of the occasion and origin

of this foreign rite I have discovered nothing, but that the image, which is fashioned like a light galley, indicates an imported worship. The Germans, however, do not consider it consistent with the grandeur of celestial beings to confine the gods within walls, or to liken them to the form of any human countenance. They consecrate woods and groves, and they apply the names of deities to the abstraction which they see only in spiritual worship (10). Auguries and Method of Divination. Augury and divination by lot no people practice more diligently (11). The use of the lots is simple. A little bough is lopped off a fruit-bearing tree, and cut into small pieces; these are distinguished by certain marks, and thrown carelessly and at random over a white garment. In public questions the priest of the particular state, in private the father of the family, invokes the gods, and, with his eyes toward heaven, takes up each piece three times, and finds in them a meaning according to the mark previously impressed on them. If they prove unfavorable, there is no further consultation that day about the matter; if they sanction it, the confirmation of augury is still required. For they are also familiar with the practice of consulting the notes and flight of birds. It is peculiar to this people to seek omens and monitions from horses. Kept at the public expense, in these same woods and groves, are white horses, pure from the taint of earthly labour; these are yoked to a sacred car, and accompanied by the priest and the king, or chief of the tribe, who note their neighing and snorting. No species of augury is more trusted, not only by the people and by the nobility, but also by the priests, who regard themselves as the ministers of the gods, and the horses as acquainted with their will. They have also another method of observing auspices, by which they seek to learn the result of an important war. Having taken, by whatever means, a prisoner from the tribe with whom they are at war, they pit him against a picked man of their own tribe, each combatant using the weapons of their country. The victory of the one or the other is accepted as an indication of the issue. Councils. About minor matters the chiefs deliberate, about the more important the whole tribe. Yet even when the final decision rests with the people (12), the affair is always thoroughly discussed by the chiefs. They assemble, except in the case of a sudden emergency, on certain fixed days, either at new or at full moon; for this they consider the most auspicious season for the transaction of business. Instead of reckoning by days as we do, they reckon by nights, and in this manner fix both their ordinary and their legal appointments. Night they regard as bringing on day. Their freedom has this disadvantage, that they do not meet simultaneously or as they are bidden, but two or three days are wasted in the delays of assembling. When the multitude think proper, they sit down armed. Silence is proclaimed by the priests, who have on these occasions the right of keeping order. Then the king or the chief, according to age, birth, distinction in war, or eloquence, is heard, more because he has influence to persuade than because he has power to command. If his sentiments displease them, they reject them with murmurs; if they are satisfied, they brandish their spears. The most complimentary form of assent is to express approbation with their spears. Punishments. Administration of Justice. In their councils an accusation may be preferred or a capital crime prosecuted. Penalties are distinguished according to the offence. Traitors and deserters are hanged on trees; the coward, the unwarlike, the man stained with abominable vices, is plunged into the mire of the morass with a hurdle put over him. This distinction in punishment means that crime, they think, ought, in being punished, to be exposed, while infamy ought to be buried out of sight (13). Lighter offences, too, have penalties proportioned to them; he who is convicted, is fined in a certain number of horses or of cattle. Half of the fine is paid to the king or to the state, half to the person whose wrongs are avenged and to his relatives. In these same councils they also elect the chief

magistrates, who administer law in the cantons and the towns. Each of these has a hundred associates chosen from the people, who support him with their advice and influence. Training of Youth. They transact no public or private business without being armed. it is not, however, usual for anyone to wear arms till the state has recognized his power to use them. Then in the presence of the council one of the chiefs, or the young man's father, or some kinsman, equips him with a shield and a spear. These arms are what the "toga" is with us, the first honour with which youth is invested. Up to this time he is regarded as a member of a household, after-wards as a member of the commonwealth. Very noble birth or great services rendered by the father secure for lads the rank of a chief; such lads attach themselves to men of mature strength and of long approved valor. It is no shame to be seen among a chief's followers. Even in his escort there are gradations of rank, dependent on the choice of the man to whom they are attached. These followers vie keenly with each others as to who shall rank first with his chiefs, the chiefs as to who shall have the most numerous and the bravest followers. It is an honour as well as a source of strength to be thus always surrounded by a large body of picked youths; it is an ornament in peace and a defense in war. And not only in his own tribe but also in the neighboring states it is the renown and glory of a chief to be distinguished for the number and valor of his followers, for such a man is courted by embassies, is honored with presents, and the very prestige of his name often settles a war. Warlike Ardor of the People. When they go into battle, it is a disgrace for the chief to be surpassed in valor, a disgrace for his followers not to equal the valor of the chief. And it is an infamy and a reproach for life to have survived the chief, and returned from the field. To defend, to protect him, to ascribe one's own brave deeds to his renown, is the height of loyalty. The chief fights for victory; his vassals fight for their chief. If their native state sinks into the sloth of prolonged peace and repose, many of its noble youths voluntarily seek those tribes which are waging some war, both because inaction is odious to their race, and because they win renown more readily in the midst of peril, and cannot maintain a numerous following except by violence and war. Indeed, men look to the liberality of their chief for their war-horse and their bloodstained and victorious lance. Feasts and entertainment, which, though inelegant, are plentifully furnished, are their only pay. The means of this bounty come from war and rapine. Nor are they as easily persuaded to plough the earth and to wait for the year's produce as to challenge an enemy and earn the honour of wounds. Nay, they actually think it tame and stupid to acquire by the sweat of toil what they might win by their blood (14). Habits in Time of Peace. Whenever they are not fighting, they pass much of their time in the chase, and still more in idleness, giving themselves up to sleep and to feasting, the bravest and the most warlike doing nothing, and surrendering the management of the household, of the home, and of the land, to the women, the old men, and all the weakest members of the family. They themselves lie buried in sloth, a strange combination in their nature that the same men should be so fond of idleness, so averse to peace. It is the custom of the states to bestow by voluntary and individual contribution on the chiefs a present of cattle or of grain, which, while accepted as a compliment, supplies their wants. They are particularly delighted by gifts from neighboring tribes, which are sent not only by individuals but also by the state, such as choice steeds, heavy armor, trappings, and neck-chains. We have now taught them to accept money also. Arrangement of Their Towns, Subterranean Dwellings. It is well known that the nations of Germany have not cities, and that they do not even tolerate closely contiguous dwellings.

They live scattered and apart, just as a spring, a meadow, or a wood has attracted them. Their village they do not arrange in our fashion, with the buildings connected and joined together, but every person surrounds his dwelling with an open space, either as a precaution against the disasters of fire, or because they do not know how to build (15). No use is made by them of stone or tile; they employ timber for all purposes, rude masses without ornament or attractiveness. Some parts of their buildings they stain more carefully with a clay so clear and bright that it resembles painting, or a coloured design. They are wont also to dig out subterranean caves, and pile on them great heaps of dung shelter from winter and as a receptacle for the year's produce, for by such places they mitigate the rigor of the cold. And should an enemy approach, he lays waste the open country, while what is hidden and buried is either not known to exist, or escapes him from the very fact that it has to be searched for. Dress. They all wrap themselves in a cloak which is fastened with a clasp, or, if this is not forthcoming, with a thorn, leaving the rest of their persons bare. They pass whole days on the hearth by the fire. The wealthiest are distinguished by a dress which is not flowing like that of the Sarmatae and Parthi, but is tight, and exhibits each limb. They also wear the skins of wild beasts; the tribes on the Rhine and Danube in a careless fashion, those of the interior with more elegance, as not obtaining other clothing by commerce. These select certain animals, the hides of which they strip off and vary them with the spotted skins of beasts, the produce of the outer ocean, and of seas unknown to us. The women have the same dress as the men except that they generally wrap themselves in linen garments, which they embroider with purple, and do not lengthen out the upper part of their clothing into sleeves. The upper and lower arm is thus bare, and the nearest part of the bosom is also exposed. Marriage Laws. Their marriage code, however, is strict, and indeed no part of their manners is more praiseworthy. Almost alone among barbarians they are content with one wife (16), except a very few among them, and these not from sensuality, but because their noble birth procures for them many offers of alliance. The wife does not bring a dower to the husband, but the husband to the wife. The parents and relatives are present, and pass judgment on the marriage-gifts, gifts not meant to suit a woman's taste, nor such as a bride would deck herself with, but oxen, a ornament-covered steed, a shield, a lance, and a sword. With these presents the wife is espoused, and she herself in her turn brings her husband a gift of arms. This they count their strongest bond of union, these, their sacred mysteries, these, their gods of marriage (17). Lest the woman should think herself to stand apart from aspirations after noble deeds and from the perils of war, she is reminded by the ceremony which inaugurates marriage that she is her husband's partner in toil and danger, destined to suffer and to dare with him both in peace and war alike. The yoked oxen, the harnessed steed, the gift of arms proclaim this fact. She must live and die with the feeling that she is receiving what she must hand down to her children neither tarnished nor depreciated, what future daughters-in-law may receive, and may be so passed on to her grandchildren. Thus with their virtue protected they live uncorrupted by the allurements of public shows or the stimulant of feasting. Clandestine correspondence is equally unknown to men and women. Very rare for so numerous a population is adultery, the punishment for which is prompt, and in the husband's power. Having cut off the hair of the adulteress and stripped her naked, he expels her from the house in the presence of her kinsfolk, and then flogs her through the whole village. The loss of chastity meets with no indulgence; neither beauty, youth, nor wealth will procure the culprit a husband. No one in Germany laughs at vice, nor do they call it the fashion to corrupt and to be corrupted. Still better is the condition of

those states in which only maidens are given in marriage, and where the hopes and expectations of a bride are then finally terminated. They receive one husband, as having one body and one life, that they may have no thoughts beyond, no further-reaching desires, that they may love not so much the husband as the married state. To limit the number of children or to destroy any of their subsequent offspring is accounted infamous, and good habits are here more effectual than good laws elsewhere. Their Children. Laws Of Succession. In every household the children, naked and filthy, grow up with those stout frames and limbs which we so much admire. Every mother suckles her own offspring and never entrusts it to servants and nurses. The master is not distinguished from the slave by being brought up with greater delicacy. Both live amid the same flocks and lie on the same ground till the freeborn are distinguished by age and recognized by merit. The young men marry late, and their vigour is thus unimpaired. Nor are the maidens hurried into marriage; the same age and a similar stature is required; wellmatched and vigorous they wed, and the offspring reproduce the strength of the parents. Sister's sons are held in as much esteem by their uncles as by their fathers; indeed, some regard the relation as even more sacred and binding, and prefer it in receiving hostages, thinking thus to secure a stronger hold on the affections and a wider bond for the family. But every man's children are his heirs and successors, and there are no wills. Should there be no issue, the next in succession to the property are brothers and his uncles on either side. The more relatives he has the more numerous his connections, the more honored is his old age; nor are there any advantages in childlessness. Hereditary Feuds. Fines for Homicide. Hospitality. It is a duty among them to adopt the feuds as well as the friendships of a father or a kinsman. These feuds are not implacable; even homicide is expiated by the payment of a certain number of cattle and of sheep, and the satisfaction is accepted by the entire family, greatly to the advantage of the state, since feuds are dangerous in proportion to the people's freedom (18). No nation indulges more profusely in entertainment and hospitality. To exclude any human being from their roof is thought impious; every German, according to his means, receives his guest with a well-furnished table. When his supplies are exhausted, he who was but now the host becomes the guide and companion to further hospitality, and without invitation they go to the next house. It matters not; they are entertained with like cordiality. No one distinguishes between an acquaintance and a stranger, as regards the rights of hospitality. It is usual to give the departing guest whatever he may ask for, and a present in return is asked with as little hesitation. They are greatly charmed with gifts, but they expect no return for what they give, nor feel any obligation for what they receive. Habits of Life. On waking from sleep, which they generally prolong for a late hour of the day, they take a bath, most often of warm water, which suits a country where winter is the longest of the seasons. After their bath they take their meal, each having a separate seat and table of his own. Then they go armed to business, or no less often to their festive meetings. To pass an entire day and night in drinking disgraces no one. Their quarrels, as might be expected with intoxicated people, are seldom fought out with mere abuse, but commonly with wounds and bloodshed. Yet it is at their feasts that they generally consult on the reconciliation of enemies, on the forming of matrimonial alliances, on the choice of chiefs, finally even on peace and war, for they think that at no time is the mind more open to simplicity of purpose or more warmed to noble aspirations. A race without either natural or acquired cunning, they disclose their hidden thoughts in the freedom of the festivity. Thus the sentiments of all having been discovered and laid bare, the discussion is renewed on the

following day, and from each occasion its own peculiar advantage is derived. They deliberate when they have no power to dissemble; they resolve when error is impossible. Food. A liquor for drinking is made of barley or other grain, and fermented into a certain resemblance to wine. The dwellers on the river-bank also buy wine. Their food is of a simple kind, consisting of wild fruit, fresh game, and curdled milk. They satisfy their hunger without elaborate preparation and without delicacies. In quenching their thirst they are equally moderate. If you indulge their love of drinking by supplying them with as much as they desire, they will be overcome by their own vices as easily as by the arms of an enemy. Sports. Passion for Gambling. One and the same kind of spectacle is always exhibited at every gathering. Naked youths who practice the sport bound in the dance amid swords and lances that threaten their lives. Experience gives them skill and skill again gives grace; profit or pay are out of the question; however reckless their pastime, its reward is the pleasure of the spectators. Strangely enough they make games of hazard a serious occupation even when sober, and so venturesome are they about gaining or losing, that, when every other resource has failed, on the last and final throw they stake the freedom of their own persons. The loser goes into voluntary slavery; though the younger and stronger, he suffers himself to be bound and sold. Such is their stubborn persistency in a bad practice; they themselves call it honour. Slaves of this kind the owners part with in the way of commerce, and also to relieve themselves from the scandal of such a victory. Slavery. The other slaves are not employed after our manner with distinct domestic duties assigned to them, but each one has the management of a house and home of his own. The master requires from the slave a certain quantity of grain, of cattle, and of clothing, as he would from a tenant, and this is the limit of subjection. All other household functions are discharged by the wife and children. To strike a slave or to punish him with bonds or with hard labour is a rare occurrence. They often kill them, not in enforcing strict discipline, but on the impulse of passion, as they would an enemy, only it is done with impunity. The freed slaves do not rank much above slaves, and are seldom of any weight in the family, never in the state with the exception of those tribes which are ruled by kings. There indeed they rise above the freeborn and the noble; elsewhere the inferiority of the freedman demonstrates the freedom of the state. Occupation of Land. Tillage. Of lending money on interest and increasing it by compounding interest they know nothing-a more effectual safeguard than if it was prohibited (19). Land proportioned to the number of inhabitants is occupied by the whole community in turn, and afterwards divided among them according to rank. A wide expanse of plains makes the partition easy. They till fresh fields every year, and they have still more land than enough; with the richness and extent of their soil, they do not laboriously exert themselves in planting orchards, enclosing meadows and watering gardens. Corn is the only produce required from the earth; hence even the year itself is not divided by them into as many seasons as with us. Winter, spring, and summer have both a meaning and a name; the name and blessings of autumn are alike unknown. Funeral Rites. In their funerals there is no pomp; they simply observe the custom of burning the bodies of illustrious men with certain kinds of wood. They do not heap garments or spices on the funeral pile. The arms of the dead man and in some cases his horse are consigned to the fire. A turf mound forms the tomb. Monuments with their lofty

elaborate splendor they reject as oppressive to the dead (20). Tears and lamentations they soon dismiss; grief and sorrow but slowly. It is thought becoming for women to bewail, for men to remember, the dead. Such on the whole is the account which I have received of the origin and manners of the entire German people. Text to this point from Tacitus, The Agricola and Germania, A. J. Church and W. J. Brodribb, trans., (London: Macmillan, 1877), pp. 87- 10 Notes to Germania 1.The majority, if not all, of the Caucasian peoples of Europe are descended from the IndoEuropeans (sometimes also referred to as the Aryans). As long ago as 10,000 BC, these large Caucasian groups, speaking various related languages, are known to have lived as nomadic herding peoples in the Caucasus Mountains. Over the following millenium, this group spread out over Europe, even extending into India. For our purposes, we may recognize a simple, broad division of this group: 1) the HighCulture group: those who developed the Cretan (or Minoan) civilization (c. 6000 BC), and classical Greece and Rome, and 2) the Primitive-Culture group, for example the Germans Tacitus encounters. The important point I wish to make is that these two groups – the High-Culture and the Primitive-Culture – are both members of the Indo-European group. We know this plainly from the striking similarities in physical type, language structure, and cultural values and systems. 2. The Europe-wide road-system Tacitus refers to was the first of its kind on the continent, and built by the Romans themselves. 3. The earth-born god Tuisco fathered Mannus, who fathered three sons (Ingaevones, Herminones, and Istaevones); or possibly Mannus had seven sons (the above three, plus Marsi, Gambrivii, Suevi, and Vandilij). The point to note is that the primary god as well as all of his immediate descendents are male; this arrangement is a common feature in the religions of warrior-herding peoples (as opposed to agricultural societies where female deities, though seldom dominant, often play a much greater role). In the case of the ancient Germans, as we shall see, various goddesses, and female influence in general, are not wholly neglected. Next, mark the interesting phrase “earth-born god”: does it mean “a god born on earth” or “a god born of (from) the earth”? We do not know. In view, however, of what we know of the Indo-Europeans and the ancient Germans, the latter interpretation may be correct. In short, we see with these people a recognition of the divine in Nature itself (i.e., not outside it, as with Christianity). 4. Notice that throughout the document Tacitus calls the German gods by Roman names. In other words, on hearing stories of these gods or seeing representations of them, he immediately recognizes them as the same gods that the Romans worship. In short, Tacitus

also understands that there exists some connection between the German and Roman cultures. 5. The Gauls were a Celtic group inhabiting the area now called France; this group is the primary source of the French people. Noricum was another Celtic kingdom corresponding roughly to modern Austria. Pannonia was a Roman province covering western Hungary, eastern Austria, Slovenia, and western Yugoslavia. 6. Again as with other herding-warrior peoples, the main source of wealth is cattle, whereas the common means of exchange is barter. 7. Here we see something of the importance of women in this society. 8. Vespasian was a Roman emperor (7 – 79). The exact meaning of “Veleda” is unknown, but evidently refers to a Roman goddess. Aurinia is another name for Aurora, the Greek and Roman goddess of the Dawn. 9. Isis: a central goddess in ancient Egyptian religion. Note here two points: that Tacitus not only recognizes Isis as a foreign deity (i.e., not at all mistaking her for a Roman goddess), but that he also knows she is an Egyptian goddess (we know this as he calls her Isis). We thus see something of the cosmopolitan nature of the Roman mind. 10. The gods are worshipped in a natural setting, and are not thought of as being of human form, but rather as natural forces. These Pagan beliefs are directly opposite to those of Christianity. 11. Interest in divination is common to all the cultures of antiquity; the most famous example being the Yi-jing of the Zhou dynasty. Here we see a variety of methods mentioned (lots, flight formations of birds, sounds of horses, and test by personal combat). Perhaps the oldest of these traditions in the western world is the observation of birds, which was not only used by the Germanic peoples, but the Romans as well, and is even referred to in the Iliad. 12. A vitally important point. We now see, along with religion, a similarity in political system: 1) rule by common consent (democracy), and 2) persuasion of the group through public speaking. Both the Greeks and the Romans, though in far more advanced fashion, used these two features as central to their political structures. 13. Actual corpses from these times, preserved mummy-like at the bottom of bogs, have been discovered in several remote areas of England. 14. This paragraph could be used to summarize most of the ancient world. 15. Here, I would say, Tacitus is wrong. The open space surrounding the dwellings is not either a protection against fire or due to lack of building knowledge, but rather is another indication of the individual, freedom-loving character of this people. They do not wish their homes to be packed together, living one atop the other like ants (or we moderns!). In short, though members of a tribe which they are indeed loyal to, these people value highly their individual space and privacy.

16. The practice of taking multiple wives has never been a western custom; this form of polygamy found no general acceptance in classical Greece or Rome, and is actually illegal in most modern western countries. In the ancient East, however, the practice was widespread, and indeed is still in use today in the Middle East, Africa, and parts of India. 17. The entire culture, including marriage, was founded on warfare. 18. The continuation, generation after generation, of family/tribe feuds and wars based on this notion of “loyalty” became a serious problem in the ancient western world. Both the Iliad and Beowulf, in part, are concerned to raise the question of the rationality of this course of action. 19. Here Tacitus is not only praising the Germans, but also slyly criticizing this fault of the Romans. 20. A good, short description of Pagan burial rites. We find similar details in the Iliad and Beowulf (amongst other places). --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------On The Ruin of Britain (De Excidio Britanniae) by Gildas Translation by J. A. Giles, 1848 (The translator of this work, Prof. J. A. Giles, at several points has provided notes which I have incorporated.) Gildas Bandonicus, a British [i.e. Celtic] monk, lived in the 6th century. In the 540s - in the most aggressive language - he set out to denounce the wickedness of his times. He ended up being the only substantial source which survives from the time of the Anglo-Saxon conquest of Britain, and the best source before the much more impressive work of the Venerable Bede [who completed his Ecclesiastical History of the English People almost 200 years later in 731]. At any event, the Anglo-Saxons began arriving in the 470s, perhaps imported as soldiers as Gildas suggests. For some time the British fought back [the historic basis of the Arthurian myth], but by 600 the Anglo-Saxons had control of most of what becomes 'England', and the Celtic peoples were pushed to the hills of Wales and Scotland and across the English Channel to "Brittany" (note by Prof. Giles). This work, as the previous, was originally in Latin; the particular styles of Latin used, however, are strikingly different. Cornelius Tacitus writes in the classical style: his sentences are relatively short, simple in structure, and active in character; the paragraphs are logically arranged and compact. Perhaps the best known example of the classical style is found in the writings of Caesar (e.g., De Bellico Gallico). Gildas, however, employs the superabundant or verbose style: long, complex constructions, often containing passive verbs, invariably unified by intricate usage of the comma and semicolon, arranged, at times, into very lengthy paragraphs. We might cite the Roman poet Virgil as the acknowledged master of this form. These two forms of Latin, the classical and the superabundant, will be adapted during the Renaissance (c. 1600 in England) into two corresponding forms of Latinate English: the King James Bible (1611) using the former, and John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667) the latter.

Finally, the problem of Gildas’ numerous, and often complex, Biblical references needs to be mentioned. With Gildas this is no idle or pedantic display of learning: as he states in his Preface (part 1, paragraph 2), he regards the Bible “as a kind of mirror of human life”, and thus is lead to search for situations and events of the past, as recorded in the Bible, in order to clarify the present. Leaving the validity of this method aside, one is nonetheless impressed by Gildas’ Biblical, and historical, knowledge. With some hesitation, however, I have elected not to annotate these Biblical allusions: to have done so would have required (at a minimum) some ten pages of densely worded notes, the end result of which, I fear, would have been more confusing than illuminating to the student. While such work is certainly suitable for the graduate level, let us be content here with the simple fact that even in 4 th century Britain, at least among a limited number of individuals, a profound knowledge of the Bible existed. (I have taken the liberty of dividing several of Gildas’ longer paragraphs in order to make them easier to follow. The original paragraphs, as is customary with many ancient documents, are numbered.)

I. The Preface Whatever in this my epistle I may write in my humble(1), but well meaning manner, rather by way of lamentation than for display, let no one suppose that it springs from contempt of others or that I foolishly esteem myself as better than they; for alas! the subject of my complaint is the general destruction of every thing that is good, and the general growth of evil throughout the land; but that I rejoice to see her revive therefrom: for it is my present purpose to relate the deeds of an indolent and slothful race, rather than the exploits of those who have been valiant in the field. I have kept silence, I confess, with much mental anguish, compunction of feeling and contrition of heart, whilst I revolved all these things within myself; and, as God the searcher of the reins is witness, for the space of even ten years or more, my inexperience, as at present also, and my unworthiness preventing me from taking upon myself the character of a censor(2). But I read how the illustrious lawgiver, for one word's doubting, was not allowed to enter the desired land; that the sons of the high-priest, for placing strange fire upon God's altar, were cut off by a speedy death; that God's people, for breaking the law of God, save two only, were slain by wild beasts, by fire and sword in the deserts of Arabia, though God had so loved them that he had made a way for them through the Red Sea, had fed them with bread from heaven, and water from the rock, and by the lifting up of a hand merely had made their armies invincible; and then, when they had crossed the Jordan and entered the unknown land, and the walls of the city had fallen down flat at the sound only of a trumpet, the taking of a cloak and a little gold from the accursed things caused the deaths of many; and again the breach of their treaty with the Gibeonites, though that treaty had been obtained by fraud, brought destruction upon many; and I took warning from the sins of the people which called down upon them the reprehensions of the prophets and also of Jeremiah, with his fourfold Lamentations written in alphabetical order. I saw moreover in my own time, as that prophet also had complained, that the city had sat down lone and widowed, which before was full of people; that the queen of nations and the princess of provinces (i.e. the church), had been made tributary; that the gold was obscured, and the

most excellent color (which is the brightness of God's word) changed; that the sons of Sion (i.e. of holy mother church), once famous and clothed in the finest gold, groveled in dung; and what added intolerably to the weight of grief of that illustrious man, and to mine, though but an abject, whilst he had thus mourned them in their happy and prosperous condition, "Her Nazarites were fairer than snow, more ruddy than old ivory, more beautiful than the sapphire." These and many other passages in the ancient Scriptures I regarded as a kind of mirror of human life, and I turned also to the New Testament, wherein I read more clearly what perhaps to me before was dark, for the darkness fled, and truth shed her steady light-I read therein that the Lord had said, "I came not but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel"; and on the other hand, "But the children of this kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth"; and again, "It is not good to take the children's meat and to give it to dogs"; also, "Woe to you, scribes and pharisees, hypocrites!" I heard how "many shall come from the east and the west and shall sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven"; and on the contrary, "I will then say to them 'Depart from me, ye workers of iniquity!'" I read, "Blessed are the barren and the teats which have not given suck"; and on the contrary, "Those, who were ready, entered with him to the wedding; afterwards came the other virgins also, saying 'Lord, Lord, open to us' to whom it was answered, 'I do not know you.'" I heard, for sooth, "Whoever shall believe and be baptized, shall be saved, but whoever shall not believe shall be damned." I read in the words of the apostle that the branch of the wild olive was grafted upon the good olive, but should nevertheless be cut off from the communion of the root of its fatness, if it did not hold itself in fear, but entertained lofty thoughts. I knew the mercy of the Lord, but I also feared his judgment; I praised his grace, but I feared the rendering to every man according to his works; perceiving the sheep of the same fold to be different, I deservedly commended Peter for his entire confession of Christ, but called Judas most wretched, for his love of covetousness; I thought Stephen most glorious on account of the palm of martyrdom, but Nicholas wretched for his mark of unclean heresy; I read assuredly, "They had all things common"; but likewise also, as it is written, "Why have ye conspired to tempt the Spirit of God?" I saw, on the other hand, how much security had grown upon the men of our time, as if there were nothing to cause them fear. These things, therefore, and many more which for brevity's sake we have determined to omit, I revolved again and again in my amazed mind with compunction in my heart, and I thought to myself, "If God's peculiar people, chosen from all the people of the world, the royal seed, and holy nation, to whom he had said, 'My first begotten Israel,' its priests, prophets, and kings, throughout so many ages, his servant and apostle, and the members of his primitive church, were not spared when the deviated from the right path, what will he do to the darkness of this our age, in which, besides all the huge and heinous sins, which it has common with all the wicked of the world committed, is found an innate, indelible, and irremediable load of folly and inconstancy?" "What, wretched man (I say to myself) is it given to you, as if you were an illustrious and learned teacher, to oppose the force of so violent a torrent, and keep the charge committed to you against such a series of inveterate crimes which has spread far and wide, without interruption, for so many years? Hold thy peace; to do otherwise, is to tell the foot to see, and the hand to speak. Britain has rulers, and she has watchmen; why dost thou incline thyself thus uselessly to prate?" She has such, I say, not too many, perhaps, but surely not too few; but, because they are bent down and pressed beneath so heavy a burden, they have not time allowed them to take breath.

My senses, therefore, as if feeling a portion of my debt and obligation, preoccupied themselves with such objections, and with others yet more strong. They struggled, as I said, no short time, in fearful strait, whilst I read, "There is a time for speaking, and a time for keeping silence." At length, the creditor's side prevailed and bore off the victory; if (said he) thou art not bold enough to be marked with the comely mark of golden liberty among the prophetic creatures, who enjoy the rank as reasoning beings next to the angels, refuse not the inspiration of the understanding ass, to that day dumb, which would not carry forward the crowned magician who was going to curse God's people, but in the narrow pass of the vineyard crushed his loosened foot, and thereby felt the lash; and though he was, with his ungrateful and furious hand, against right justice, beating her innocent sides, she pointed out to him the heavenly messenger holding the naked sword, and standing in his way, though he had not seen him (3). Wherefore in zeal for the house of God and for his holy law, constrained either by the reasoning of my own thoughts, or by the pious entreaties of my brethren, I now discharge the debt so long exacted of me; humble, indeed, in style, but faithful, as I think, and friendly to all Christ's youthful soldiers, but severe and insupportable to foolish apostates; the former of whom, if I am not deceived, will receive the same with tears flowing from god's love; but the others with sorrow, such as is extorted from the indignation and pusillanimity of a convicted conscience. 2. I will, therefore, if God be willing, endeavour to say a few words about the situation of Britain, her disobedience and subjection, her rebellion, second subjection and dreadful slavery--of her religion, persecution, holy martyrs, heresies of different kinds --of her tyrants, her two hostile and ravaging nations --of her first devastation, her defense, her second devastation, and second taking vengeance --of her third devastation, of her famine, and the letters to Agitius -of her victory and her crimes --of the sudden rumor of enemies --of her famous pestilence-of her counsels --of her last enemy, far more cruel than the first -of the subversion of her cities, and of the remnant that escaped; and finally, of the peace which, by the will of God, has been granted her in these our times (4).

II. The History 3. The island of Britain, situated on almost the utmost border of the earth, towards the south and west, and poised in the divine balance, as it is said, which supports the whole world, stretches out from the south-west towards the north pole, and is eight hundred miles long and two hundred broad, except where the headlands of sundry promontories stretch farther into the sea (5). It is surrounded by the ocean, which forms winding bays, and is strongly defended by this ample, and, if I may so call it, impassable barrier, save on the south side, where the narrow sea affords a passage to Belgic Gaul. It is enriched by the mouths of two noble rivers, the Thames and the Severn, as it were two arms, by which foreign luxuries were of old imported, and by other streams of less importance. It is famous for eight and twenty cities, and is embellished by certain castles, with walls, towers, well barred gates, and houses with threatening battlements built on high, and provided with all requisite instruments of defense. Its plains are spacious, its hills are pleasantly situated, adapted for superior tillage, and its mountains are admirably calculated for the alternate pasturage of cattle, where flowers of various colours, trodden by the feet of man, give it the appearance of a lovely picture. It is decked, like a man's chosen bride, with divers jewels, with lucid fountains and abundant brooks wandering over the snow white sands; with

transparent rivers, flowing in gentle murmurs, and offering a sweet pledge of slumber to those who recline upon their banks, whilst it is irrigated by abundant lakes, which pour forth cool torrents of refreshing water. 4. This island, stiff-necked and stubborn-minded, from the time of its being first inhabited, ungratefully rebels, sometimes against God, sometimes against her own citizens, and frequently also, against foreign kings and their subjects. For what can there either be, or be committed, more disgraceful or more unrighteous in human affairs, than to refuse to show fear to God or affection to one's own countrymen, and (without detriment to one's faith) to refuse due honour to those of higher dignity, to cast off all regard to reason, human and divine, and, in contempt of heaven and earth, to be guided by one's own sensual inventions? I shall, therefore, omit those ancient errors common to all the nations of the earth, in which, before Christ came in the flesh, all mankind were bound; nor shall I enumerate those diabolical idols of my country, which almost surpassed in number those of Egypt, and of which we still see some moldering away within or without the deserted temples, with stiff and deformed features as was customary (6). Nor will I call out upon the mountains, fountains, or hills, or upon the rivers, which now are subservient to the use of men, but once were an abomination and destruction to them, and to which the blind people paid divine honor. I shall also pass over the bygone times of our cruel tyrants, whose notoriety was spread over to far distant countries; so that Porphyry (7), that dog who in the east was always so fierce against the church, in his mad and vain style added this also, that "Britain is a land fertile in tyrants." I will only endeavour to relate the evils which Britain suffered in the times of the Roman emperors, and also those which she caused to distant states; but so far as lies in my power, I shall not follow the writings and records of my own country, which (if there ever were any of them) have been consumed in the fires of the enemy, or have accompanied my exiled countrymen into distant lands, but be guided by the relations of foreign writers, which, being broken and interrupted in many places are therefore by no means clear. 5. For when the rulers of Rome had obtained the empire of the world, subdued all the neighboring nations and islands towards the east, and strengthened their renown by the first peace which they made with the Parthians, who border on India, there was a general cessation from war throughout the whole world; the fierce flame which they kindled could not be extinguished or checked by the Western Ocean, but passing beyond the sea, imposed submission upon our island without resistance, and entirely reduced to obedience its unwarlike but faithless people, not so much by fire and sword and warlike engines, like other nations, but threats alone, and menaces of judgments frowning on their countenance, whilst terror penetrated to their hearts (8). 6. When afterwards they returned to Rome, for want of pay, as is said, and had no suspicion of an approaching rebellion, that deceitful lioness (Boadicea) put to death the rulers who had been left among them, to unfold more fully and to confirm the enterprises of the Romans. When the report of these things reached the senate, and they with a speedy army made haste to take vengeance on the crafty foxes, as they called them, there was no bold navy on the sea to fight bravely for the country; by land there was no marshaled army, no right wing of battle, nor other preparation for resistance; but their backs were their shields against their vanquishers, and they presented their necks to their swords, whilst chill terror ran through every limb, and they stretched out their hands to be bound, like women; so that it has become a proverb far and wide, that the Britons are neither brave in war nor faithful in time of peace (9).

7. The Romans, therefore, having slain many of the rebels, and reserved others for slaves, that the land might not be entirely reduced to desolation, left the island, destitute as it was of wine and oil, and returned to Italy, leaving behind them taskmasters, to scourge the shoulders of the natives, to reduce their necks to the yoke, and their soil to the vassalage of a Roman province; to chastise the crafty race, not with warlike weapons, but with rods, and if necessary to gird upon their sides the naked sword, so that it was no longer thought to be Britain, but a Roman island; and all their money, whether of copper, gold, or silver, was stamped with Caesar's image. 8. Meanwhile these islands, stiff with cold and frost, and in a distant region of the world, remote from the visible sun, received the beams of light, that is, the holy precepts of Christ, the true Sun, showing to the whole world his splendor, not only from the temporal firmament, but from the height of heaven, which surpasses every thing temporal, at the latter part, as we know, of the reign of Tiberius Caesar (10), by whom his religion was propagated without impediment, and death threatened to those who interfered with its professors. 9. These rays of light were received with lukewarm minds by the inhabitants, but they nevertheless took root among some of them in a greater or less degree, until the nine years' persecution of the tyrant Diocletian (11), when the churches throughout the whole world were overthrown, all the copies of the Holy Scriptures which could be found burned in the streets, and the chosen pastors of God's flock butchered, together with their innocent sheep, in order that not a vestige, if possible, might remain in some provinces of Christ's religion. What disgraceful flights then took place-what slaughter and death inflicted by way of punishment in divers shapes,--what dreadful apostasies from religion; and on the contrary, what glorious crowns of martyrdom then were won, --what raving fury was displayed by the persecutors, and patience on the part of the suffering saints, ecclesiastical history informs us; for the whole church were crowding in a body, to leave behind them the dark things of this world, and to make the best of their way to the happy mansions of heaven, as if to their proper home. 10. God, therefore, who wishes all men to be saved, and who calls sinners no less than those who think themselves righteous, magnified his mercy towards us, and, as we know, during the above-named persecution, that Britain might not totally be enveloped in the dark shades of night, he, of his own free gift, kindled up among us bright luminaries of holy martyrs, whose places of burial and of martyrdom, had they not for our manifold crimes been interfered with and destroyed by the barbarians, would have still kindled in the minds of the beholders no small fire of divine charity (12). Such were St. Alban of Verulam, Aaron and Julius, citizens of Carlisle, and the rest, of both sexes, who in different places stood their ground in the Christian contest. 11. The first of these martyrs, St. Alban, for charity's sake saved another confessor who was pursued by his persecutors, and was on the point of being seized, by hiding him in his house, and then by changing clothes with him, imitating in this example of Christ, who laid down his life for his sheep, and exposing himself in the other's clothes to be pursued in his stead. So pleasing to God was this conduct, that between his confession and martyrdom, he was honored with the performance of wonderful miracles in presence of the impious blasphemers who were carrying the Roman standards, and like the Israelites of old, who trod dry-foot an unfrequented path whilst the ark of the covenant stood some time on the sands in the midst of Jordan; so also the martyr, with a thousand others, opened a path across the noble river Thames, whose waters stood abrupt like precipices on either side; and

seeing this, the first of his executors was stricken with awe, and from a wolf became a lamb; so that he thirsted for martyrdom, and boldly underwent that for which he thirsted (13). The other holy martyrs were tormented with divers sufferings, and their limbs were racked in such unheard of ways, that they, without delay, erected the trophies of their glorious martyrdom even in the gates of the city of Jerusalem. For those who survived, hid themselves in woods and deserts, and secret caves, waiting until God, who is the righteous judge of all, should reward their persecutors with judgment, and themselves with protection of their lives. 12. In less than ten years, therefore, of the above-named persecution, and when these bloody decrees began to fail in consequence of the death of their authors, all Christ's young disciples, after so long and wintry a night, begin to behold the genial light of heaven. They rebuild the churches, which had been leveled to the ground; they found, erect, and finish churches to the holy martyrs, and everywhere show their ensigns as token of their victory; festivals are celebrated and sacraments received with clean hearts and lips, and all the church's sons rejoice as it were in the fostering bosom of a mother. For this holy union remained between Christ their head and the members of his church, until the Arian treason, fatal as a serpent, and vomiting its poison from beyond the sea, caused deadly dissension between brothers inhabiting the same house, and thus, as if a road were made across the sea, like wild beasts of all descriptions, and darting the poison of every heresy from their jaws, they inflicted dreadful wounds upon their country, which is ever desirous to hear something new, and remains constant long to nothing. 13. At length also, new races of tyrants sprang up, in terrific numbers, and the island, still bearing its Roman name, but casting off her institutes and laws, sent forth among the Gauls that bitter scion of her own planting Maximus (14), with a great number of followers, and the ensigns of royalty, which he bore without decency and without lawful right, but in a tyrannical manner, and amid the disturbances of the seditious soldiery. He, by cunning arts rather than by valor, attaching to his rule, by perjury and falsehood, all the neighboring towns and provinces, against the Roman state, extended one of his wings to Spain, the other to Italy, fixed the seat of his unholy government at Treves, and so furiously pushed his rebellion against his lawful emperors that he drove one of them out of Rome, and caused the other to terminate his most holy life. Trusting to these successful attempts, he not long after lost his accursed head before the walls of Aquileia, whereas he had before cut off the crowned heads of almost all the world. 14. After this, Britain is left deprived of all her soldiery and armed bands, of her cruel governors, and of the flower of her youth, who went with Maximus, but never again returned; and utterly ignorant as she was of the art of war, groaned in amazement for many years under the cruelty of two foreign nations—the Scots (15) from the north-west, and the Picts(16) from the north. 15. The Britons, impatient at the assaults of the Scots and Picts, their hostilities and dreadful oppressions, send ambassadors to Rome with letters, entreating in piteous terms the assistance of an armed band to protect them, and offering loyal and ready submission to the authority of Rome, if they only would expel their foes. A legion was immediately sent, forgetting their past rebellion, and provided sufficiently with arms. When they had crossed over the sea and landed, they came at once to close conflict with their cruel enemies, and slew great numbers of them. All of them were driven beyond the borders, and the humiliated natives rescued from the bloody slavery which awaited them. By the advice of their protectors, they now built a wall across the island from one sea to the other, which

being manned with a proper force, might be a terror to the foes whom it was intended to repel, and a protection to their friends whom it covered (17). But this wall, being made of turf instead of stone, was of no use to that foolish people, who had no head to guide them. 16. The Roman legion had no sooner returned home in joy and triumph, than their former foes, like hungry and ravening wolves, rushing with greedy jaws upon the fold which is left without a shepherd, and wafted both by the strength of oarsmen and the blowing wind, break through the boundaries, and spread slaughter on every side, and like mowers cutting down the ripe corn, they cut up, tread under foot, and overrun the whole country. 17. And now again they send suppliant ambassadors, with their garments rent and their heads covered with ashes, imploring assistance from the Romans, and like timorous chickens, crowding under the protecting wings of their parents, that their wretched country might not altogether be destroyed, and that the Roman name, which now was but an empty sound to fill the ear, might not become a reproach even to distant nations. Upon this, the Romans, moved with compassion, as far as human nature can be, at the relations of such horrors, send forward, like eagles in their flight, their unexpected bands of cavalry by land and mariners by sea, and planting their terrible swords upon the shoulders of their enemies, they mow them down like leaves which fall at the destined period; and as a mountaintorrent swelled with numerous streams, and bursting its banks with roaring noise, with foaming crest and yeasty wave rising to the stars, by whose eddying currents our eyes are as it were dazzled, does with one of its billows overwhelm every obstacle in its way, so did our illustrious defenders vigorously drive our enemies' band beyond the sea, if any could so escape them; for it was beyond those same seas that they transported, year after year, the plunder which they had gained, no one daring to resist them. 18. The Romans, therefore, left the country, giving notice that they could no longer be harassed by such laborious expeditions, nor suffer the Roman standards, with so large and brave an army, to be worn out by sea and land by fighting against these unwarlike, plundering vagabonds; but that the islanders, inuring themselves to warlike weapons, and bravely fighting, should valiantly protect their country, their property, wives and children, and, what is dearer than these, their liberty and lives; that they should not suffer their hands to be tied behind their backs by a nation which, unless they were enervated by idleness and sloth, was not more powerful than themselves, but that they should arm those hands with buckler, sword, and spear, ready for the field of battle; and, because they thought this also of advantage to the people they were about to leave, they, with the help of the miserable natives, built a wall different from the former, by public and private contributions, and of the same structure as walls generally, extending in a straight line from sea to sea, between some cities, which, from fear of their enemies, had there by chance been built. They then give energetic counsel to the timorous natives, and leave them patterns by which to manufacture arms. Moreover, on the south coast where their vessels lay, as there was some apprehension lest the barbarians might land, they erected towers at stated intervals, commanding a prospect of the sea; and then left the island never to return. 19. No sooner were they gone, than the Picts and Scots, like worms which in the heat of the mid-day come forth from their holes, hastily land again from their canoes, in which they had been carried beyond the Cichican valley (18), differing one from another in manners, but inspired with the same avidity for blood, and all more eager to shroud their villainous faces in bushy hair than to cover with decent clothing those parts of their body which required it. Moreover, having heard of the departure of our friends, and their resolution never to return, they seized with greater boldness than before on all the country towards

the extreme north as far as the wall. To oppose them there was placed on the heights a garrison equally slow to fight and ill adapted to run away, a useless and panic-struck company, who slumbered away days and nights on their unprofitable watch. Meanwhile the hooked weapons of their enemies were not idle, and our wretched countrymen were dragged from the wall and dashed against the ground. Such premature death, however, painful as it was, saved them from seeing the miserable sufferings of their brothers and children. But why should I say more? They left their cities, abandoned the protection of the wall, and dispersed themselves in flight more desperately than before. The enemy, on the other hand, pursued them with more unrelenting cruelty than before, and butchered our countrymen like sheep, so that their habitations were like those of savage beasts; for they turned their arms upon each other, and for the sake of a little sustenance, imbrued their hands in the blood of their fellow countrymen. Thus foreign calamities were augmented by domestic feuds; so that the whole country was entirely destitute of provisions, save such as could be procured in the chase. 20. Again, therefore, the wretched remnant, sending to Aetius, a powerful Roman citizen, address him as follow:--"To Aetius, now consul for the third time: the groans of the Britons." And again a little further, thus:--"The barbarians drive us to the sea; the sea throws us back on the barbarians; thus two modes of death await us, we are either slain or drowned." The Romans, however, could not assist them, and in the meantime the discomfited people, wandering in the woods, began to feel the effects of a severe famine, which compelled many of them without delay to yield themselves up to their cruel persecutors, to obtain subsistence; others of them, however, lying hid in mountains, caves and woods, continually sallied out from thence to renew the war. And then it was, for the first time, that they overthrew their enemies, who had for so many years been living in their country; for their trust was not in man, but in God; according to the maxim of Philo, "We must have divine assistance, when that of man fails" (19). The boldness of the enemy was for a while checked, but not the wickedness of our countrymen; the enemy left our people, but the people did not leave their sins. 21. For it has always been a custom with our nation, as it is at present, to be impotent in repelling foreign foes, but bold and invincible in raising civil war, and bearing the burdens of their offences; they are impotent, I say, in following the standard of peace and truth, but bold in wickedness and falsehood. The audacious invaders therefore return to their winter quarters, determined before long again to return and plunder. And then, too, the Picts for the first time seated themselves at the extremity of the island, where they afterwards continued, occasionally plundering and wasting the country. During these truces, the wounds of the distressed people are healed, but another sore, still more venomous, broke out. No sooner were the ravages of the enemy checked, than the island was deluged with a most extraordinary plenty of all things, greater than was before known, and with it grew up every kind of luxury and licentiousness. It grew with so firm a root, that one might truly say of it, "Such fornication is heard of among you, as never was known the like among the Gentiles." But besides this vice, there arose also every other, to which human nature is liable and in particular that hatred of truth, together with her supporters, which still at present destroys every thing good in the island; the love of falsehood, together with its inventors, the reception of crime in the place of virtue, the respect shown to wickedness rather than goodness, the love of darkness instead of the sun, the admission of Satan as an angel of light. Kings were anointed, not according to god's ordinance, but such as showed themselves more cruel than the rest; and soon after, they were put to death by those who

had elected them, without any inquiry into their merits, but because others still more cruel were chosen to succeed them. If any one of these was of a milder nature than the rest, or in any way more regardful of the truth, he was looked upon as the destroyer of the country, every body cast a dart at him, and they valued things alike whether pleasing or displeasing to God, unless it so happened that what displeased him was pleasing to themselves. So that the words of the prophet, addressed to the people of old, might well be applied to our own countrymen: "Children without a law, have ye left God and provoked to anger the holy one of Israel?* Why will ye still inquire, adding iniquity? Every head is languid and every heart is sad; from the sole of the foot to the crown, there is no health in him." And thus they did all things contrary to their salvation, as if no remedy could be applied to the world by the true Physician of all men. And not only the laity did so, but our Lord's own flock and its shepherds, who ought to have been an example to the people, slumbered away their time in drunkenness, as if they had been dipped in wine; whilst the swellings of pride, the jar of strife, the griping talons of envy, and the confused estimate of right and wrong, got such entire possession of the, that there seemed to be poured out (and the same still continues) contempt upon princes, and to be made by their vanities to wander astray and not in the way. 22. Meanwhile, God being willing to purify his family who were infected by so deep a stain of woe, and at the hearing only of their calamities to amend them; a vague rumor suddenly as if on wings reaches the ears of all, that their inveterate foes were rapidly approaching to destroy the whole country, and to take possession of it, as of old, from one end to the other. But yet they derived no advantage from this intelligence; for, like frantic beasts, taking the bit of reason between their teeth, they abandoned the safe and narrow road, and rushed forward upon the broad downward path of vice, which leads to death. Whilst therefore, as Solomon says, the stubborn servant is not cured by words, the fool is scourged and feels it not; a pestilential disease morally affected the foolish people, which, without the sword, cut off so large a number of persons, that the living were not able to bury them. But even this was no warning to them, that in them also might be fulfilled the words of Isaiah the prophet, "And God hath called his people to lamentation, to baldness, and to the girdle of sackcloth; behold they begin to kill calves, and to slay rams, to eat, to drink, and to say, 'We will eat and drink, for tomorrow we shall die.'" For the time was approaching, when all their iniquities, as formerly those of the Amorrhaeans, should be fulfilled. For a council was called to settle what was best and most expedient to be done, in order to repel such frequent and fatal invasions and plundering of the above-named nations. 23. Then all the councilors, together with that proud tyrant Gurthrigern [Vortigern] (20), the British king, were so blinded, that, as a protection to their country, they sealed its doom by inviting in among them (like wolves into the sheep-fold), the fierce and impious Saxons, a race hateful both to God and men, to repel the invasions of the northern nations. Nothing was ever so pernicious to our country, nothing was ever so unlucky (21). What palpable darkness must have enveloped their minds-darkness desperate and cruel! Those very people whom, when absent, they dreaded more than death itself, were invited to reside, as one may say, under the selfsame roof. Foolish are the princes, as it is said, of Thafneos, giving counsel to unwise Pharaoh. A multitude of whelps came forth from the lair of this barbaric lioness, in three cyuls, as they call them, that is, in there ships of war, with their sails wafted by the wind and with omens and prophecies favorable, for it was foretold by a certain soothsayer among them, that they should occupy the country to which they were sailing three hundred years, and half of that time, a hundred and fifty years, should plunder and despoil the same. They first landed on the eastern side of the island, by the invitation of the unlucky king, and there fixed their sharp talons, apparently to fight in favor of the

island, but alas! more truly against it. Their motherland, finding her first brood thus successful, sends forth a larger company of her wolfish offspring, which sailing over, join themselves to their bastard-born comrades. From that time the germ of iniquity and the root of contention planted their poison amongst us, as we deserved, and shot forth into leaves and branches. The barbarians being thus introduced as soldiers into the island, to encounter, as they falsely said, any dangers in defense of their hospitable entertainers, obtain an allowance of provisions, which, for some time being plentifully bestowed, stopped their doggish mouths. Yet they complain that their monthly supplies are not furnished in sufficient abundance, and they industriously aggravate each occasion of quarrel, saying that unless more liberality is shown them, they will break the treaty and plunder the whole island. In a short time, they follow up their threats with deeds. 24. For the fire of vengeance, justly kindled by former crimes, spread from sea to sea, fed by the hands of our foes in the east, and did not cease, until, destroying the neighboring towns and lands, it reached the other side of the island, and dipped its red and savage tongue in the western ocean. In these assaults, therefore, not unlike that of the Assyrian upon Judea, was fulfilled in our case what the prophet describes in words of lamentation; "They have burned with fire the sanctuary; they have polluted on earth the tabernacle of thy name." And again, "O God, the gentiles have come into thine inheritance; thy holy temple have they defiled," etc. So that all the columns were leveled with the ground by the frequent strokes of the battering-ram, all the husbandmen routed, together with their bishops, priests, and people, whilst the sword gleamed, and the flames crackled around them on every side. Lamentable to behold, in the midst of the streets lay the tops of lofty towers, tumbled to the ground, stones of high walls, holy altars, fragments of human bodies, covered with livid clots of coagulated blood, looking as if they had been squeezed together in a press; and with no chance of being buried, save in the ruins of the houses, or in the ravening bellies of wild beasts and birds; with reverence be it spoken for their blessed souls, if, indeed, there were many found who were carried, at that time, into the high heaven by the holy angels. So entirely had the vintage, once so fine, degenerated and become bitter, that, in the words of the prophet, there was hardly a grape or ear of corn to be seen where the husbandman had turned his back. 25. Some therefore, of the miserable remnant, being taken in the mountains, were murdered in great numbers; others, constrained by famine, came and yielded themselves to be slaves for ever to their foes, running the risk of being instantly slain, which truly was the greatest favour that could be offered them; some others passed beyond the seas with loud lamentations instead of the voice of exhortation. "Thou hast given us as sheep to be slaughtered, and among the Gentiles hast thou dispersed us." Others, committing the safeguard of their lives, which were in continual jeopardy, to the mountains, precipices, thickly wooded forests, and to the rocks of the seas (albeit with trembling hearts), remained still in their country. But in the meanwhile, an opportunity happening, when these most cruel robbers were returned home, the poor remnants of our nation (to whom flocked from divers places round about our miserable countrymen as fast as bees to their hives, for fear of an ensuing storm), being strengthened by God, calling upon him with all their hearts, as the poet says, "With their unnumbered vows they burden heaven," that they might not be brought to utter destruction, took arms under the conduct of Ambrosius Aurelianus (22), a modest man, who of all the Roman nation was then alone in the confusion of this troubled period by chance left alive. His parents, who for their merit were adorned with the purple, had been slain in these same broils, and now his progeny in these our days, although shamefully degenerated from the worthiness of their ancestors, provoke to battle their cruel conquerors, and by the goodness of our Lord obtain the victory.

26. After this, sometimes our countrymen, sometimes the enemy, won the field, to the end that our Lord might in this land try after his accustomed manner these his Israelites, whether they loved him or not, until the year of the siege of Bath-hill (23), when took place also the last almost, though not the least slaughter of our cruel foes, which was (as I am sure) forty-four years and one month after the landing of the Saxons, and also the time of my own nativity (24). And yet neither to this day are the cities of our country inhabited as before, but being forsaken and overthrown, still lie desolate; our foreign wars having ceased, but our civil troubles still remaining. For as well the remembrance of such terrible desolation of the island, as also of the unexpected recovery of the same, remained in the minds of those who were eyewitnesses of the wonderful events of both, and in regard thereof, kings, public magistrates, and private persons, with priests and clergymen, did all and every one of them live orderly according to their several vocations. But when these had departed out of this world, and a new race succeeded, who were ignorant of this troublesome time, and had only experience of the present prosperity, all the laws of truth and justice were so shaken and subverted, that not so much as a vestige or remembrance of these virtues remained among the above-named orders of men, except among a very few who, compared with the great multitude which were daily rushing headlong down to hell, are accounted so small a number, that our reverend mother, the church, scarcely beholds them, her only true children, reposing in her bosom; whose worthy lives, being a pattern to al men, and beloved of God, inasmuch as by their holy prayers, as by certain pillars and most profitable supporters, our infirmity is sustained up, that it may not utterly be broken down, I would have no one suppose I intended to reprove, if forced by the increasing multitude of offences, I have freely, aye, with anguish, not so much declared as bewailed the wickedness of those who are become servants, not only to their bellies, but also to the devil rather than to Christ, who is our blessed God, world without end.

Notes to On the Ruin of Britain 1. Here we might wonder, considering the obvious complexity and erudition of the style, whether Gildas is merely being facetious or perhaps falsely modest; neither, however, is the case. Actually, by “humble” Gildas means that although the work is to the best of his ability, he still recognizes it is far from perfect or complete. 2. The entire purpose of this document, which we may assume Gildas addressed to the British leaders, is to severely criticize the British for 1) lack of faith in the Christian religion, 2) lack of courage and intelligence in their battles with the Anglo-Saxons and Scots and Picts, and 3) being all to willing to engage in civil wars. In opposition to these evils he holds up the standards of Christianity and Imperial Rome. Seeing as Gildas was a Christian monk, the former is wholly predictable; the latter, however, may be something of a surprise, in that Britain, actually, was an occupied territory of Rome. Gildas, however, indeed like most intellectuals of his day, viewed Rome not so much as a conquering and subjugating power, but rather as a source of unity, stability, and development – without the influence of which all of Europe would fall into chaos and darkness. Little did Gildas know that the Roman Empire was already in its final decline, and that soon the Dark Ages (c. 500 – 800) would descend upon western Europe.

3. A complex metaphor based on a Bible story. In the original, a magician (i.e., a Pagan priest) is going to put a curse or spell on the Christians, and is about to mount a jackass to make the journey to his temple. God sends an angel (i.e., the messenger) to warn the magician not to do so. The Pagan, however, blinded by his own evil ways does not see the angel – but the jackass (inspired by god!) does. The donkey then steps on the foot of the magician in order to alert him to the presence of the angel. Still the magician refuses to see, and merely strikes the donkey. Gildas compares himself to the donkey (who, if nothing else, recognizes god), and the British people to the stupid and arrogant magician. 4. This paragraph provides a summary of the events Gildas will describe. There are nine major sections: 1) the conquest of Britain by Rome (Caesar arrives in 55BC, but the island is not actually under Roman control until c. 150AD), 2) the rebellion led by Queen Boadicea (c. 60 – 61 AD), 3) the suppression of same by the Romans, 4) the introduction of Christianity into Britain (c.150 AD), 5) the persecution of the Christians by the Roman emperor Diocletian (303-304), 6) the rise and death of Magnus Maximus (c. 350 – 388), 7) the British king Vortigern (fl. 425 – 450) receiving military assistance from the Anglo-Saxons, 8) the Anglo-Saxon betrayal and the (first) Celtic escape, and 9) the (temporary) peace of Gildas’ own time. 5. As Prof. Giles notes, the general description of Britain given here will be copied by many later authors (e.g., the Venerable Bede); the exact dimensions of the land, however, will vary writer to writer. 6. Gildas is here referring to the pre-Christian, or Pagan, gods of old Europe. Note the allusion to the many gods of Egypt: Christianity is monotheistic (i.e., having one god), whereas the majority of the Pagan faiths are polytheistic (i.e., having several or numerous deities). 7. Porphyry: c. 234 AD – c. 305, a neo-Platonist Greek philosopher noted for his antiChristian views. 8. Pax Romana: The Roman Peace. From the reign of Augustus to Marcus Aurelius (i.e., 27 AD – 180 AD) the Romans secured a general peace throughout Europe. This accomplishment, roughly 200 years without major military conflict, finds few parallels in history. 9. The Britons who fought under Boadicea were anything but "crafty foxes." "Bold lions" is a much more appropriate appellation; they would also have been victorious if they had half the military advantages of the Romans (note by Prof. Giles). 10. Tiberius Caesar: 42 BC – 37 AD, a Roman Emperor, reign 14 AD – 37. I think that most scholars of ancient English history would agree that the “latter part” of the reign of Tiberius, as Gildas here suggests, is too early a date for the introduction of Christianity into Britain. As stated in the lecture, c. 150 AD is more probable. 11. Diocletian, Latin in full GAIUS AURELIUS VALERIUS DIOCLETIANUS, original name DIOCLES (b. AD 245, Salonae?, Dalmatia [now Solin, Croatia]--d. 316, Salonae), Roman emperor (284-305), who restored efficient government to the empire after the near anarchy of the 3rd century. His reorganization of the fiscal, administrative, and

military machinery of the empire laid the foundation for the Byzantine Empire in the East and temporarily shored up the decaying empire in the West. His reign is also noted for the last great persecution of the Christians. (see also Index: Roman Republic and Empire). (Encyclopædia Britannica, 1999 CD edition). 12. Gildas here expresses the traditional Christian view that martyrs are given to the world by god as examples of faith. 13. As Biblical saints and martyrs performed miracles, so too their British counterparts. 14. Maximus, Magnus (d. Aug. 28, 388), usurping Roman emperor who ruled Britain, Gaul, and Spain from AD 383 to 388. A Spaniard of humble origin, Maximus commanded the Roman troops in Britain against the Picts and Scots. In the spring of 383, Maximus' British troops proclaimed him emperor, and he at once crossed to the European continent to confront his rival, the Western emperor Gratian. Maximus won over Gratian's advancing troops; Gratian fled but was overtaken and killed (Aug. 25, 383).Maximus took up residence at Trier (in present-day Germany) and entered into negotiations with the Eastern emperor, Theodosius I. Since hostile tribes were threatening his eastern frontier, Theodosius decided to recognize Maximus rather than fight a war in the West. Maximus also opened negotiations with Valentinian II, the young ruler who had been coemperor with Gratian, and made an uneasy peace with him. At this time Maximus elevated his son Flavius Victor to be coruler with him, and his elevation was recognized by the other two emperors.In the summer of 387 Maximus invaded Italy, forcing Valentinian to flee to Thessalonica. War broke out in 388 between Maximus and Theodosius, whose position had been strengthened by a treaty with the Persians. When his troops were defeated near Siscia and at Petovio, in Illyricum (in the Balkans), Maximus was capture andexecuted (Encyclopædia Britannica, 1999, CD edition.) 15. Scot, any member of an ancient Gaelic-speaking people of northern Ireland who settled in Scotland sometime in the 5th century AD. Originally (until the 10th century) "Scotia" denoted Ireland, and the inhabitants of Scotia were Scotti. The area of Argyll and Bute, where the migrant Scots settled, became known as the kingdom of Dalriada, the counterpart to Dalriada in Ireland. St. Columba inaugurated Christianity among them and helped raise Aidan to the kingship of Scottish Dalriada in 574. The Scots then expanded eastward into what came to be known as the Forest of Atholl and Strath Earn (valley of the River Earn) and northward into the area of Elgin. The union of the lands of modern Scotland began in 843, when Kenneth I MacAlpin, king of the Scots (Dalriada), became also king of the Picts and, within a few years, joined "Pict-land" to "Scot-land" to form the kingdom of Alba. By 1034, by inheritance and warfare, the Scots had secured hegemony over not only Alba but also Lothian, Cumbria, and Strathclyde--roughly the territory of modern mainland Scotland. In 1305 the kingdom was divided into Scotland, Lothian, and Galloway; in the 14th century Scotland came to be the name for the whole land, and all its inhabitants were called Scots, whatever their origin. (Encyclopædia Britannica, 1999, CD edition.) 16. Pict (from Latin Picti, "painted"), one of an ancient people who lived in what is now eastern and northeastern Scotland, from Caithness to Fife. Their name may refer to their custom of body painting or possibly tattooing. Probably descendants of pre-Celtic aborigines, the Picts were first noticed in AD 297, when a Roman writer spoke of the "Picts and Irish [Scots] attacking" Hadrian's Wall. Their warfare with the Romans during the occupation was almost continual. Then or soon after, they seem to have

developed two kingdoms north of the Firth of Forth, a southern and a northern; but by the 7th century there was a united "Pict-land," which already had been penetrated by Christianity. In 843, Kenneth I MacAlpin, king of the Scots (centred in Argyll and Bute), became also king of the Picts, uniting their two lands in a new kingdom of Alba, which evolved into Scotland. The Pictish kingdom is notable for the stylized but vigorous beauty of its carved memorial stones and crosses. The round stone towers known as brochs, or Pictish towers," and the underground stone houses called weems, or "Picts' houses," however, both predate this kingdom. (Encyclopædia Britannica, 1999, CD edition.) 17. It was actually the Roman emperor Hadrian (76 AD – 138; reign 117 – 138) who, during his grand tour of the Empire 122, conceived and began this project of a coast-to-coast defensive wall. This original structure was roughly 73 miles long and nine feet thick. Due to various wars and battles, this wall was continually being re-built until 410, at which time the project was finally abandoned in favor of other methods. 18. As Prof. Giles notes, the meaning of Cichican in uncertain, although some scholars take it to refer to the Irish Sea. 19. Philo: c. 10 BC – 50 AD, Jewish philosopher. The most important representative of Hellenistic Judaism. 20. Vortigern, also spelled WYRTGEORN (fl. 425-450), king of the Britons at the time of the arrival of the Saxons under Hengist and Horsa in the 5th century. Though the subject of many legends, he may probably be safely regarded as an actual historical figure. Vortigern made use of Hengist and Horsa to protect his kingdom against the Picts and Scots and rewarded them for their services with a grant of land. Later Britons made war on the newcomers, now established in Kent, and four battles were fought, in the last of which, according to the Historia Brittonum, the king's son Vortemir, their leading opponent, was slain. The Historia Brittonum also records the massacre of the British nobles after the death of Vortemir and Vortigern's subsequent grant of Essex and Sussex to the invaders. (Encyclopædia Britannica, 1999, CD edition.) 21. As Gildas is the only surviving source of this period, we have no way of verifying the claim that the Anglo-Saxons originally entered Britain as a result of a military pact with Vortigern. 22. Aurelian, Latin in full LUCIUS DOMITIUS AURELIANUS (b. c. 215--d. 275, near Byzantium [now Istanbul, Turkey]), Roman emperor from 270 to 275. By reuniting the empire, which had virtually disintegrated under the pressure of invasions and internal revolts, he earned his self-adopted title restitutor orbis ("restorer of the world"). (Encyclopædia Britannica, 1999, CD edition.) 23. Bath: district and city of the county of Avon, established by the Romans; notable for its hot springs. 24. At the time of Gildas’ writing, the Anglo-Saxon invasions and the civil wars had temporarily ceased; within a short period of time, however, both would resume in full force. By 600 AD the central portion of Britain would be under Anglo-Saxon control with the Celtic matrix formed behind it

CHAPTER II BEOWULF -------------------------------------------------------------------------------HWÆT, WE GAR-DENA IN GEARDAGUM þeodcyninga þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon! oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum,

monegum mægþum meodosetla ofteah, egsode eorlas, syððanærest wearð feasceaft funden; he þæs frofre gebad, weox under wolcnum weorðmyndum þah, oð þæt him æghwylc ymbsittendra ofer hronrade hyran scolde, gomban gyldan; þæt wæs god cyning!

Outline I. Key Facts II. Discussion 1. Literary Techniques (sentence structure; alliteration; kenning) 2. Content (comparison with Old Germanic literature; connections with Christianity; criticism of Beowulf's characters as flat) 3. Summary -------------------------------------------------------------------------------I. Key Facts · Beowulf is the major production of Old English (hereafter, OE) literature. · OE was the first of the European vernaculars to be put into writing. · The earliest form of Beowulf was an oral poem of Danish, or more generally, Germanic, origin dating back to at least c. 500AD. It was recited by a specially trained minstrel called a scop, who possibly also employed a harp-like instrument during his performance. Beowulf was written into OE c. 800AD; the author is unknown; the area was, most probably, Mercia. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------II. Discussion 1. Literary Techniques Beowulf is, as we shall see, one of the most controversial and difficult works of English literature. As professor A. Kent Hieatt (1) has written, "…Beowulf even today is the most drastically misunderstood of all the monuments of English literature." This being so, I will begin my discussion with the least disputed aspects of the poem, its literary techniques. The general structure of the poem is as follows: 3182 lines are divided into roughly 43 sections (called fitts in OE). Although the fitts receive no further grouping in the original text (of which, incidentally, but one survives), plainly there are three: a prologue or introduction giving some slight background; part one dealing, primarily, with Beowulf's battles with Grendel and the monster's mother; and part two, wherein Beowulf slays a dragon, and then dies from wounds inflicted by the creature. The time-sequence of the story is chronological (although there is a gap of some many years between the end of part one and the start of part two).

The characters of the poem are from two groups: the Danes and the Geats (a tribe of southern Sweden). The legendary founder of the Danish people is Scyld Scefing, whose son is Beow, whose son is Healfdene; this last has four children (three sons and one daughter), the most important being Heorogar, who builds the meeting house Heorot. Contemporaneous with the Danish leader is the Geatish chief Hrethel, who also has three sons and one daughter (note parallel structure), key being Beowulf , the hero of the poem. Woven throughout the poem is an extremely complex network of references and allusions to past and future events. Oftentimes the modern reader, wholly ignorant of the cultural milieu of Germania, far from finding these associations foreboding or referential (as they would have been for a medieval audience of the poem), is merely confused by them. Turning now to the specific literary techniques of Beowulf, four are of particular note: 1) the special sentence structure, 2) the linking of the parts of this structure by alliteration, 3) kenning, and 4) the baroque vocabulary. Beginning with the sentence structure, nearly all the sentences of the poem are paired (i.e., work in units of two). Each individual sentence of this pair is divided into two parts, between which is a verbal gap (termed caesura in Latin); lastly, each half sentence is, generally, of two feet. Here is an example from Beowulf (lines 26 - 27). Him ða Scyld gewat to gescæphwile

felahror feran on Frean wære You will note that the divided sentences are internally linked by alliteration. In line 26, Scyld and scaeph; in 27, fela, feran, and Frean. Finally, this pattern of two alliterations in the first line followed by three in the second is the standard method. You should understand that this type of sentence structure is not unique to Beowulf, but rather is a common practice in Old Germanic poetry. In Beowulf, however, this technique does reach a new height.

Kenning, the next important technique, is defined by the Encyclopædia Britannica (CD version, 1999 edition), as follows: a concise compound or figurative phrase replacing a common noun, especially in Old Germanic, Old Norse, and Old English poetry. A kenning is commonly a simple stock compound such as "whale-path" or "swan road" for "sea"; "God's beacon" for "sun"; or "ring-giver" for "king". Again, as stated above, a customary device of Old Germanic verse, which, once again, in Beowulf attains a greater level. Two examples will suffice: a certain queen in section 28 is "the people's peacemaker", whereas the dragon which Beowulf fights is "the old oppressor of the night". Lastly, regarding the vocabulary of Beowulf, which is often termed baroque, meaning brilliantly unusual in usage, I mention this merely for the student's general reference, for although this aspect is of tremendous significance in the historical development of the English language to actually grasp this point requires specialist knowledge of OE. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------2. Content It was often the practice of previous generations of Beowulf commentators to praise the poem's literary techniques (which, as we have seen, are undoubtedly of a high level), while dismissing the story itself as basically primitive and confused. Recent investigations, however, have given us a much deeper, although at times still tentative, understanding of this complex work. Now, for the modern reader to know something of what the poem was meant to convey to its original readers (or listeners), some knowledge of the culture world of those people is indispensable. In short, context. One possible means to this end is a literary comparison and contrast of Beowulf to other key works of the Old Germanic tradition. Research of this type, of which recent years has seen much, has yielded at least four points of similarity, and one important contrast (which will lead us on to two further, related matters). Beowulf's first connection with Old Germanic literature is its method of versification (already described); this form of alliterative couplets is far older than Beowulf. Second, many of the motifs or themes of the poem (e.g., the evil dragon guarding buried treasure) are drawn from an age-old common stock of Germanic myth and legend; these are, therefore, in no way unique to Beowulf. Third, throughout the work stress is placed on tribal and family loyalty (e.g., at the end of section 35 we read, "Ties of kinship can never be put aside by a right-thinking man."). In view of the nearly constant state of warfare in the ancient and medieval worlds, such an emphasis is easily understandable. The fourth similarity I will delay for a moment, and now introduce the unique characteristic of Beowulf, which is ethical in nature. Question: what does the typical Old Germanic hero fight against, and why? Answer: either another group who has wronged his group or a certain man who has wronged him personally. In short, his enemies are human, and his motivation is tribal or personal vengeance. With the hero Beowulf, however, the

situation is different: his enemies are monsters (i.e., abstract representations of evil), who prey on all humanity, and not simply his tribe. Thus in the poem Beowulf we have not the glorification of tribal or personal vengeance, but rather an example of a fight against universal evil. This is the defining characteristic of the poem. I come now to the fourth connecting point, which I believe is of great importance. The essential nature of the Old Germanic spirit (perhaps most beautifully expressed in the Poetic Edda, of Iceland, c. 1200), is what I will term "active pessimism". On this view, life, in its most basic character, is suffering, anguish - and this is a state-of-affairs which no amount of human effort can change; and yet, paradoxically, man must actively confront the evil that faces him, trying to change what he knows he cannot. This relentless, though futile, fight is what defines man's existence. It is his sole reason for being. Most interestingly, traditional Christianity (i.e., what was taught by Jesus), teaches fundamentally the same doctrine (with the important addition of the happy ending of Heaven). Now, I would suggest, it was this deep, underlying connection of the active pessimism of both the Old Germanic spirit and original Christianity that allowed all of Anglo-Saxon England to be converted to the new religion in a scant 100 years. In relation to this an interesting question (basically overlooked in the research) may be asked: why, from the entire stock of Old Germanic tales available to our (unknown) 800AD author, did he choose to put Beowulf into OE? We have no evidence that this story was in any way more highly regarded than others (in fact, it is almost certain, several others were more widely known). And yet, Beowulf was chosen? Why? The answer, I would suggest, is that the defining characteristic of this Old Germanic, preChristian story made it, and no other, a particularly suitable vehicle to carry the essentially similar ideas of the newly introduced religion. My final point on the content is to address the common criticism that the main characters of the poem (i.e., Beowulf, and the three monsters) are flat or one-sided (i.e., the hero is all good, while his enemies are totally bad) and thus have no depth and cannot be believed in. This criticism is understandable, in that traditionally, western literature, from Homer to Joyce, has often seen complexity of characterization as the hallmark of serious art. One thinks of Achilles, Hamlet, Stephen Dedalus, and Humbert Humbert; for in human experience even the best seems to hold something negative, and even in the worst we can find something redeeming. Thus, this emphasis on complexity of character, to use the sweet prince's words, are "like a mirror held up to nature" - an accurate, realistic portrayal of human life. However, as Prof. A. Kent Hieatt (2) has pointed out, this dogged insistence on realism is a misguided bias (in fact, some people today, so conditioned, and thus limited, by the pervasive realism of our times, cannot even accept the idea that any other art form than realism is to be taken seriously). In short, other forms are possible, and Beowulf is an example of one. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3. Conclusion In sum, then, Beowulf uses a high level of literary technique and structure, simple characterization, and a complex network of allusions and references, with the intention of rendering an artistic effect of active pessimism. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------References 1. Beowulf and Other Old English Poems. Hieatt, Constance B., Bantam, N.Y. 1988. P.xii. 2. ibid. P. xxiv. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Excerpt from Beowulf (translated by Francis B. Gummere, 1910)

PRELUDE OF THE FOUNDER OF THE DANISH HOUSE LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped (1), we have heard, and what honor the athelings won! Oft Scyld the Scefing (2) from squadroned foes, from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore, awing the earls. Since erst he lay friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him: for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve, till before him the folk, both far and near, who house by the whale-path (3), heard his mandate, gave him gifts: a good king he! To him an heir was afterward born, a son in his halls, whom heaven sent to favor the folk, feeling their woe that erst they had lacked an earl for leader so long a while; the Lord endowed him, the Wielder of Wonder (4), with world's renown. Famed was this Beow: far flew the boast of him, son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands. So becomes it a youth to quit him well with his father's friends, by fee and gift, that to aid him, aged, in after days, come warriors willing, should war draw nigh, liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds shall an earl have honor in every clan(5). Forth he fared at the fated moment, sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God(6). Then they bore him over to ocean's billow, loving clansmen, as late he charged them, while wielded words the winsome Scyld,

the leader beloved who long had ruled.... In the roadstead rocked a ring-decked vessel, ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge: there laid they down their darling lord on the breast of the boat, the Giver-of-rings(7), by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure fetched from far was freighted with him. No ship have I known so nobly decked with weapons of war and weeds of battle, with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay a heaped hoard that hence should go far o'er the flood with him floating away. No less these loaded the lordly gifts, thanes' huge treasure, than those had done who in former time forth had sent him sole on the seas, a suckling child. High o'er his head they hoist the standard, a gold-wove banner; let billows take him, gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits, mournful their mood. No man is able to say in sooth, no son of the halls, no hero beneath heaven, -- who harbored that freight! Part I Now Beow bode in the burg of the Scyldings, leader beloved, and long he ruled in fame with all folk, since his father had gone away from the world, till awoke an heir, haughty Healfdene, who held through life, sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad. Then, one after one, there woke to him, to the chieftain of clansmen, children four: Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave; and I heard that his daughter was Onela's queen (8), that king’s helpmate dear. To Hrothgar was given such glory of war, such honor of combat, that all his kin obeyed him gladly till great grew his band of youthful comrades. It came in his mind to bid his henchmen a hall uprear, a master mead-house, mightier far than ever was seen by the sons of earth, and within it, then, to old and young he would all allot that the Lord had sent him, save only the land and the lives of his men. Wide, I heard, was the work commanded, for many a tribe this mid-earth round, to fashion the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered, in rapid achievement that ready it stood there, of halls the noblest: Heorot (9) he named it

whose message had might in many a land. Not reckless of promise, the rings he dealt, treasure at banquet: there towered the hall, high, gabled wide, the hot surge waiting of furious flame(10). Nor far was that day when father and son-in-law stood in feud for warfare and hatred that woke again. With envy and anger an evil spirit endured the dole in his dark abode, that he heard each day the din of revel high in the hall: there harps rang out, clear song of the singer. He sang (11) who knew tales of the early time of man, how the Almighty made the earth (12), fairest fields enfolded by water, set, triumphant, sun and moon for a light to lighten the land-dwellers, and braided bright the breast of earth with limbs and leaves, made life for all of mortal beings that breathe and move. So lived the clansmen in cheer and revel a winsome life, till one began to fashion evils, that field of hell. Grendel this monster grim was called, march-river mighty, in moorland living, in fen and fastness; fief of the giants the hapless wight a while had kept since the Creator his exile doomed. On kin of Cain was the killing avenged by sovereign God for slaughtered Abel. Ill fared his feud, and far was he driven, for the slaughter's sake, from sight of men. Of Cain awoke all that woeful breed, Giants and elves and evil-spirits, as well as the giants that warred with God weary while: but their wage was paid them! Notes to Beowulf excerpt 1. Note that this translation attempts to retain the general alliterative form of the original; Prof. Gummere is, however, unable to maintain a strict 2 – 3 pattern. 2. Mythical ancestor of the Danish kings. His mysterious arrival and equally mysterious “passing” suggest divine origins; his name suggests both his functions as king (shield – protector of the people) and, possibly, a nature myth (“son of a sheaf” or “child with a sheaf”). From Hieatt, p. 3. 3. Kenning for sea. 4. Kenning for God.

5. Here we see an example of overt social instruction conveyed by the poem; there is, however, more importantly, the underlying ethical message of the work. 6. A masterful translation by Prof. Gummere. 7. Kenning for king. 8. King of Sweden. 9. That is, "The Hart," or "Stag," so called from decorations in the gables that resembled the antlers of a deer. The building was rectangular, with opposite doors -- mainly west and east -- and a hearth in the middle of the single room. A row of pillars down each side, at some distance from the walls, made a space which was raised a little above the main floor, and was furnished with two rows of seats. On one side, usually south, was the high-seat midway between the doors. Opposite this, on the other raised space, was another seat of honor. At the banquet soon to be described, Hrothgar sat in the south or chief high-seat, and Beowulf opposite to him. (note adapted from Prof. Gummere). 10. Here we have an excellent example of the type of common cultural background which was well-known to all of the original listeners of the poem. The particular functions of this passage are two-fold: 1) to foreshadow the destruction of Heorot, and 2) to help in building an atmosphere of gloom. 11. The scop. 12. From this point to the bottom of the page we have an 800 AD Christian insert.

CHAPTER III THE NORMAN PERIOD AND MIDDLE ENGLISH The period of ME is difficult to grasp as a whole simply because the developments are so rapid: within a scant 450 years (a short span of time in terms of language change) OE is transformed into modern (classical) English, the essential characteristics of which it retains to this day. Furthermore, there are still a great many things we do not understand about this important period. In fact, ME is, to a large degree, a specialist's field. This being the case, I will confine my remarks to the key points below! General Points on the Norman Period 1. The introduction of Anglo-Norman culture, and the reintroduction of classical (primarily Latin) culture. 2. Political power is centralized in England. The Norman's establish a strong central government (eventually located in London), thus breaking the old Anglo-Saxon practice of regional control. 3. As mentioned, rapid language change. Periods of ME The following is the customary division of ME into three periods, after which I have appended comments on main developments, and a brief list of important works. All dates are approximate. I. Early 1100 - 1250 During the period of Alfred the Great there was a gradual movement of OE dialects in the direction of West Saxon (the language of Wessex). After the invasion of the Normans, however, this trend broke off, with regional dialects reappearing, all now under the influence of Anglo-Norman. English life in general comes under heavy Anglo-Norman influence (with special emphasis on government, education, and society life). There is little written in English at this time, and, in fact, by c. 1250 glosses (marginal notes containing definitions) begin to appear in some OE texts: this is an indication that OE is being forgotten. Three works, all religious poems, are notable: The Ormulum, c. 1190; The Owl and the Nightingale, c. 1200; and the "Katherine Group" (five devotional poems), c. 1190 - 1225.

II. Central 1250 - 1400 This period is important in several respects. First, we have the development of regional literatures and the Alliterative Revival, next the introduction of French rhyme and the courtly love theme, and, finally, consolidation of the language begins again. The most important of the regional writings, as we shall see, are those from the northwest Midlands, where additionally, the Alliterative Revival was, apparently, based. From before the Norman Conquest the traditional techniques of OE poetry, most notably alliteration, had been losing ground to French methods, particularly the use of rhyme. By the period of Central ME alliteration, and all the standards of OE verse, had been all but replaced by French practices, when, with an apparent suddenness, alliteration reappears. (It should be noted that this alliteration is really a new form of alliteration, and not actually any revival of the OE style.) As of yet, no explanation for the Alliterative Revival is generally accepted. Along with borrowings in form from French literature, we have at this time the adoption of the courtly-love theme. The greatest of the French courtly-love poets was Chretien De Troyes (fl. 1170 - 1190) (whose works are highly recommended). Some quarters of English society, most notably the Church, thought these themes immoral, but, nonetheless, they proved popular. Lastly, I would again emphasize the quick pace of language change. Three key works of this time must be mentioned. First, is Morte Arthure (Death of Arthur), c. 1350 (not to be confused with a later book of similar title by Thomas Malory); an Alliterative Revival piece, written in northwest Midlands dialect. It has been described as perhaps the most powerful epic narrative of ME. Next, is Piers Plowman, c. 1370, by William Langland. This allegory, though also of the Alliterative Revival, is written in the London dialect (thus making it far easier for us today to read). Last, is the "Jewel of Middle English poetry", as it is sometimes called, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (see the lecture on this topic for details). III. Late 1400 - 1500 Fully developed, classical, ME. In short, Chaucer. All remarks on Late ME, therefore, will be reserved for the next lecture.

CHAPTER IV SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A drawing from the original c.1375 manuscript: The Beheading of the Green Knight. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------It is with justice that Sir Gawain and the Green Knight has been called the "jewel of English medieval literature". On a technical level, the poem's integration of form and theme is of a very high degree; further, the symbols employed are both profound and striking. Most importantly, however, is the moral self-examination the work encourages of the reader. Contents -------------------------------------------------------------------------------1. Key Facts 2. General Points 3. The Linked-Plot 4. Three Final Comments ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Key Facts The date of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (hereafter, SGGK) is c. 1375; location, as well as dialect, being northwest Midlands; the author is unknown. The length is 2530 lines, divided into 4 sections (or fitts). The verse is " long alliterative line" (meaning that although alliteration is used consistently throughout, the lines are of varying feet), in combination with the "bob and wheel" technique. The poem is, thus, classified as a "metrical romance". The time period and style include it in the so-called Alliterative Revival. SGGK is preceded by three other poems (Pearl, Patience, and Purity), which are of a more overtly religious nature, in a unique copy; the little book also contains some simple illustrations (see one above). All four poems are believed to be the work of a single author, who, in honor of his first creation, is sometimes called the Pearl Poet. General Points -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Two general points are noteworthy: 1) the French (or Anglo-Norman) influence on SGGK, and 2) the poem's distinctly Christian outlook. French influence on SGGK is both technical and thematic: the bob-and-wheel device from Anglo-Norman rhyme, the (proposed) illicit affair from the courtly-love tradition. The Christian viewpoint of SGGK is notable in that it is pervasive, or consistent, throughout the work and yet the Pearl Poet renders an effect that is charming and in no way heavy handed or overtly didactic. For any writer to achieve this - and particularly a medieval one! - is certainly no small accomplishment. The Linked-Plot ------------------------------------------------------------------------------The critical discussions on SGGK are voluminous. Analysis of Sir Gawain's character, significance of the symbols used, connection to other writings, and various other topics continued to be studied (for an introduction to these scholarly writings, see the link section below). Of all these, however, perhaps the most fundamental is the "linked-plot" of the poem. By linked-plot is meant the close parallels between the three major scenes of the poem: 1) the beheading of the Green Knight at Camelot, 2) the hunting-bedroom scenes, and 3) the (near) beheading of Sir Gawain at the Green Chapel. Tying all three, and thus the work as a whole, together are a network of virtues, attitudes, and tests. Regarding virtues, Sir Gawain is bound by two sets of ethics: the first being Christian, the other, knightly (with the former, at least in theory, being dominant). The connecting points between these two systems (I will avoid the complex question of contradictions!) are loyalty, honesty, and courage.

Now, in SGGK the Pearl Poet has personified each of these virtues, and its opposite, within a certain animal (a common medieval literary device). The deer, in its positive aspect, is thought to be noble, loyal, dignified; conversely, however, it is afraid, cowardly. The boar is known for his courage and relentless fighting spirit, but can also be wrongly aggressive and stubborn (i.e., pigheaded). Last is the wily fox whose deceptiveness can be put to either good or evil purposes (for example, the classical hero Odysseus is indeed crafty, but his motives are good). The three primary scenes of the poem (already mentioned) will thus form three tests of three qualities (i.e., loyalty, honesty, and courage, respectively). A closer examination is now in order. In the opening scene at King Arthur's court where the Green Knight challenges any man brave enough to behead him, and then receive like treatment at the Green Chapel in a year and a day, Sir Gawain, like all present, is simply too shocked or frightened to respond. Thus, he is like the deer. It is only when King Arthur, incited to action by the Green Knight's taunting, moves to accept this curious dare that Sir Gawain shows the courage and insistence of the boar by stepping in to replace him. Note that Sir Gawain's bravery is motivated by his sense of duty and loyalty, thus connecting these two virtues. Finally, when the Green Knight gallops away (head in hand!), and the New Year celebrations are resumed (and eccentric King Arthur at last sets to meat), Sir Gawain, although inwardly anxious about his fate, must outwardly carry on as before (knightly honor, decorum, etc.). By this deception - although again with proper motivation - he is like the fox. Next, the first day Lady Bertilak visits Sir Gawain's bedroom he is shy (feigns sleep, allows kiss for fear of lacking courtesy) like a deer. Later, when her husband gives the knight the deer he has caught (in effect saying, "This is what you have been today."), Sir Gawain honors their exchange agreement and acknowledges the hunter correct by giving his gain: one kiss. The second day Lady Bertilak is far more persistent, and attempts to convince Sir Gawain that a love affair between them would not be improper; he, however, firmly resists these advances. When the lord of the house returns home and presents Sir Gawain with the symbol of the day's events, the boar, the knight declares it true by kissing the hunter twice. It is, of course, on the third day that Sir Gawain fails: not by taking the garter, but by promising, and keeping the promise, not to tell Lord Bertilak about the magical gift. When the Lady's husband gives Sir Gawain the fox (i.e., "You have been deceitful today.") , the knight does not own up to it, relinquishing but three kisses and keeping the magical garter. Now, obviously, he has kept the green garter as he fears for his life on the morrow. This seems not only an understandable but rather forgivable deception ~ he is, after all, only trying to save his own life! However, according to both of the codes of ethics he lives by (i.e., Christian and knightly) he has committed a grievous sin: he has coveted his own life. As a Christian his life belongs to God, as a knight to the king and country. And so, one sin (fear of death) has caused him to commit yet another (dishonesty). The lesson here seems to be that single, isolated sins do not exist: one evil inevitably leads you on to another. It should be noted that I have omitted any discussion of the important, though difficult, significance of the red-gold ring which Lady Bertilak initially attempts to give to Sir Gawain.

Finally, in the penultimate scene, where Sir Gawain now bows his neck to the Green Knight's ax, at first he flinches out of fear (evidently doubting the green girdle's power), and is thus like the deer. After being chided by the Green Knight for this lack of courage, he becomes as steadfast and brave as the boar on the second, though feigned, stroke. Now, it is here, at the third, final cut, where Sir Gawain must, to complete the structure, exhibit foxy behavior that I must depart from usual explanations given. Most critics of this poem somehow wish us to equate Sir Gawain's rapid recovery (e.g., jumps up, unsheathes his sword, etc.) after the third, glancing cut with the fox motif. Personally, however, I think this interpretation flat wrong. His recovery is simply a continuation of boar-behavior. Rather, it is the "misogynist speech" (as some scholars have termed it), where Sir Gawain gives Biblical examples of men fooled by women (starting with Adam, no less!) - the purpose which, of course, is to alleviate himself of guilt - that is crafty! The deceit here is self-deceit. Note how this deceit is the mirror image of the opening deceit, which was outward in nature. Three Final Comments -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Observe that the good Sir Gawain's resolve was, no doubt, considerably weakened by unexpected test of having to deal with Lady Bertilak's advances three days running! Here the Pearl Poet indicates something of the unpredictable character of life. Second, when Sir Gawain returns to Camelot and relates his moral failure (which he indicates by wearing the green garter on his sleeve), the court not only laughs it off but actually honors him all the more for it! The Pearl Poet seems to be indicating the superficial quality of society, which often cannot or will not honestly confront moral dilemmas. Last, though Sir Gawain has failed, the opening and closing lines of the poem (dealing with the fall of Troy, the rise of Rome, and Aeneas) strongly suggest that our hero, through the self-knowledge gained by failure, overcame these weaknesses and became a better man. Excerpt From SGGK as translated from the ME poetry into modern English prose by Jessie L. Weston *****

Excerpt 1 First, have a look at the original ME poetry, opening section

SIÞEN þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye, Þe bor3 brittened and brent to bronde3 and askez, Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wro3t Watz tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erþe: Hit watz Ennias þe athel, and his highe kynde, Þat siþen depreced prouinces, and patrounes bicome Welne3e of al þe wele in þe west iles. Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyþe, With gret bobbaunce þat bur3e he biges vpon fyrst, And neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat; Tirius to Tuskan and teldes bigynnes, Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes, And fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settez wyth wynne, Where werre and wrake and wonder Bi syþez hatz wont þerinne, And oft boþe blysse and blunder Ful skete hatz skyfted synne. And now in modern prose. After the siege and the assault of Troy, when that burg was destroyed and burnt to ashes, and the traitor tried for his treason, the noble Æneas and his kin sailed forth to become princes and patrons of well-nigh all the Western Isles. Thus Romulus built Rome (and gave to the city his own name, which it bears even to this day); and Ticius turned him to Tuscany; and Langobard raised him up dwellings in Lombardy; and Felix Brutus sailed far over the French flood, and founded the kingdom of Britain, wherein have been war and waste and wonder, and bliss and bale, oft-times since. And in that kingdom of Britain have been wrought more gallant deeds than in any other; but of all British kings Arthur was the most valiant, as I have heard tell, therefore will I set

forth a wondrous adventure that fell out in his time. And if ye will listen to me, but for a little while, I will tell it even as it stands in story stiff and strong, fixed in the letter, as it hath long been known in the land.

Excerpt 2 (Sir Gawain begins his three trials.) (1 and 2.) Full early, ere daylight, the folk rose up; the guests who would depart called their grooms, and they made them ready, and saddled the steeds, tightened up the girths, and trussed up their mails. The knights, all arrayed for riding, leapt up lightly, and took their bridles, and each rode his way as pleased him best. The lord of the land was not the last. Ready for the chase, with many of his men, he ate a sop hastily when he had heard Mass, and then with blast of the bugle fared forth to the field. He and his nobles were to horse ere daylight glimmered upon the earth. Then the huntsmen coupled their hounds, unclosed the kennel door, and called them out. They blew three blasts gaily on the bugles, the hounds bayed fiercely, and they that would go a-hunting checked and chastised them. A hundred hunters there were of the best, so I have heard tell. Then the trackers got them to the trysting-place and uncoupled the hounds, and forest rang again with their gay blasts. At the first sound of the hunt the game quaked for fear, and fled, trembling, along the vale. They betook them to the heights, but the assistants in wait turned them back with loud cries; the harts they let pass them, and the stags with their spreading antlers, for the lord had forbidden that they should be slain, but the hinds and the does they turned back, and drove down into the valleys. Then might ye see much shooting of arrows. As the deer fled under the boughs a broad whistling shaft smote and wounded each sorely, so that, wounded and bleeding, they fell dying on the banks. The hounds followed swiftly on their tracks, and hunters, blowing the horn, sped after them with ringing shouts as if the cliffs burst asunder. What game escaped those that shot was run down at the outer ring. Thus were they driven on the hills, and harassed at the waters, so well did the men know their work, and the greyhounds were so great and swift that they ran them down as fast as the hunters could slay them. Thus the lord passed the day in mirth and joyfulness, even to nightfall. So the lord roamed the woods, and Gawain, that good night, lay ever a-bed, curtained about, under the costly coverlet, while the daylight gleamed on the walls. And as he lay half slumbering, he heard a little sound at the door, and he raised his head, and caught back a corner of the curtain, and waited to see what it might be. It was the lovely lady, the lord's wife; she shut the door softly behind her, and turned towards the bed; and Gawain was shamed, laid him down softly and made as if he slept. And she came lightly to the bedside, within the curtain, and sat herself down beside him, to wait till he wakened. The knight lay there awhile, and marveled within himself what her coming might betoken; and he said to himself, "'T’were more seemly if I asked her what hath brought her hither." Then he made feint to waken, and turned towards her, and opened his eyes as one astonished, and crossed himself (3); and she looked on him laughing, with her cheeks red and white, lovely to behold, and small smiling lips. "Good morrow, Sir Gawain," said that fair lady; "ye are but a careless sleeper, since one can enter thus. Now are ye taken unawares, and lest ye escape me I shall bind you in your bed; of that be ye assured!" Laughing, she spake these words(4). "Good morrow, fair lady," quoth Gawain blithely. "I will do your will, as it likes me well. For I yield me readily, and pray your grace, and that is best, by my faith, since I needs must do so." Thus he jested again, laughing. "But an ye would, fair lady, grant me this grace that

ye pray your prisoner to rise. I would get me from bed, and array me better, then could I talk with ye in more comfort." "Nay, forsooth, fair sir," quoth the lady, "ye shall not rise, I will do ye better. I shall keep ye here, since ye can do no other, and talk with my knight whom I have captured. For I know well that ye are Sir Gawain, whom all the world worships, wheresoever ye may ride. Your honour and your courtesy are praised by lords and ladies, by all who live(5). Now ye are here and we are alone, my lord and his men are afield; the serving men in their beds, and my maidens also, and the door shut upon us. And since in this hour I have him that all men love, I shall use my time well with speech, while it lasts. Ye are welcome to my company, for it behooves me in sooth to be your servant." "In good faith," quoth Gawain, "I think me that I am not him of whom ye speak, for unworthy am I of such service as ye here proffer. In sooth, I were glad if I might set myself by word or service to your pleasure; a pure joy would it be to me!" "In good faith, Sir Gawain," quoth the gay lady, "the praise and the prowess that pleases all ladies I lack them not, nor hold them light; yet are there ladies enough who would prefer to have a knight in their hold, as I have ye here, to dally with your courteous words, to bring them comfort and to ease their cares, than much of the treasure and the gold that are theirs. And now, through the grace of Him who upholds the heavens, I have wholly in my power that which they all desire!" Thus the lady, fair to look upon, made him great cheer, and Sir Gawain, with modest words, answered her again: "Madam," he quoth, "may Mary requite ye, for in good faith I have found in ye a noble frankness. Much courtesy have other folk shown me, but the honour they have done me is naught to the worship of yourself, who knoweth but good." "By Mary," quoth the lady, "I think otherwise; for were I worth all the women alive, and had I the wealth of the world in my hand, and might choose me a lord to my liking, then, for all that I have seen in ye, Sir Knight, of beauty and courtesy and blithe semblance, and for all that I have hearkened and hold for true, there should be no knight on earth to be chosen before ye!" "Well I would," quoth Sir Gawain, "that ye have chosen a better; but I am proud that ye should so prize me, and as your servant do I hold ye my sovereign, and your knight am I, and may Christ reward ye." So they talked of many matters till mid-morn was past, and ever the lady made as though she loved him, and the knight turned her speech aside. For though she were the brightest of maidens, yet had he forborne to show her love for the danger that awaited him, and the blow that must be given without delay. Then the lady prayed her leave from him, and he granted it readily. And she bade him good-day, with laughing glance, but he must needs marvel at her words: "Now He that speeds fair speech reward ye this disport; but that ye be Gawain my mind misdoubts me greatly." "Wherefore?" quoth the knight quickly, fearing lest he had lacked in some courtesy. And the lady spake: "So true a knight as Gawain is holden, and one so perfect in courtesy, would never have tarried so long with a lady but he would of his courtesy have craved a kiss at parting." Then quoth Gawain, " I will do even as it may please ye, and kiss at your commandment, as a true knight should who forbears to ask for fear of displeasure." At that she came near and bent down and kissed the knight, and each commended the other to Christ, and she went forth from the chamber softly. Then Sir Gawain arose and called his chamberlain and chose his garments, and when he was ready he got him forth to Mass, and then went to meat, and made merry all day till the rising of the moon, and never had a knight fairer lodging than had he with those two noble ladies, the elder and the younger.

And even the lord of the land chased the hinds through holt and heath till eventide, and then with much blowing of bugles and baying of hounds they bore the game homeward; and by the time daylight was done all the folk had returned to that fair castle. And when the lord and Sir Gawain met together, then were they both well pleased. The lord commanded them all to assemble in the great hall, and the ladies to descend with their maidens, and there, before them all, he bade the men fetch in the spoil of the day's hunting, and he called unto Gawain, and counted the tale of the beasts, and showed them unto him, and said, "What think ye of this game, Sir Knight? Have I deserved of ye thanks for my woodcraft?" "Yea, I wish," quoth the other, "here is the fairest spoil I have seen this seven year in the winter season." "And all this do I give ye, Gawain," quoth the host, "for by accord of covenant ye may claim it as your own(6)." "That is sooth," quoth the other, "I grant you that same; and I have fairly won this within walls, and with as good will do I yield it to ye." With that he clasped his hands round the lord's neck and kissed him as courteously as he might. "Take ye here my spoils, no more have I won; ye should have it freely, though it were greater than this." "'Tis good," said the host, "gramercy thereof. Yet were I fain to know where ye won this same favor, and if it were by your own wit?" "Nay," answered Gawain, "that was not in the bond. Ask me no more: ye have taken what was yours by right, be content with that." They laughed and jested together, and sat them down to supper, where they were served with many dainties; and after supper they sat by the hearth, and wine was served to them; and oft in their jesting they promised to observe on the morrow the same covenant that they had made before, and whatever chance might betide to exchange their spoil, be it much or little, when they met at night. Thus they renewed their bargain before the whole court, and then the night-drink was served, and each courteously took leave of the other and got him to bed. By the time the cock had crowed thrice the lord of the castle had left his bed; Mass was sung and meat fitly served. The folk were forth to the wood ere the day broke, with hound and horn they rode over the plain, and uncoupled their dogs among the thorns. Soon they struck on the scent, and the hunt cheered on the hounds who were first to seize it, urging them with shouts. The others hastened to the cry, forty at once, and there rose such a clamour from the pack that the rocks rang again. The huntsmen spurred them on with shouting and blasts of the horn; and the hounds drew together to a thicket betwixt the water and a high crag in the cliff beneath the hillside. There where the rough rock fell ruggedly they, the huntsmen, fared to the finding, and cast about round the hill and the thicket behind them. The knights wanted what beast was within, and would drive him forth with the bloodhounds. And as they beat the bushes, suddenly over the beaters there rushed forth a wondrous great and fierce boar, long since had he left the herd to roam by himself. Grunting, he cast many to the ground, and fled forth at his best speed, without more mischief. The men hallooed loudly and cried, "Hay! Hay!" and blew the horns to urge on the hounds, and rode swiftly after the boar. Many a time did he turn to bay and tare the hounds, and they yelped, and howled shrilly. Then the men made ready their arrows and shot at him, but the points were turned on his thick hide, and the barbs would not bite upon him, for the shafts shivered in pieces, and the head but leapt again wherever it hit. But when the boar felt the stroke of the arrows he waxed mad with rage, and turned on the hunters and tare many, so that, affrightened, they fled before him. But the lord on a swift steed pursued him, blowing his bugle; as a gallant knight he rode through the woodland chasing the boar till the sun grew low. So did the hunters this day, while Sir Gawain lay in his bed lapped in rich gear; and the lady forgot not to salute him, for early was she at his side, to cheer his mood.

She came to the bedside and looked on the knight, and Gawain gave her fit greeting, and she greeted him again with ready words, and sat her by his side and laughed, and with a sweet look she spoke to him: “Sir, if ye be Gawain, I think it a wonder that ye be so stern and cold, and care not for the courtesies of friendship, but if one teach ye to know them ye cast the lesson out of your mind. Ye have soon forgotten what I taught ye yesterday, by all the truest tokens that I knew!" "What is that?" quoth the knight. "In truth, I know not. If it be sooth that ye say, then is the blame mine own." "But I taught ye of kissing, " quoth the fair lady. "Wherever a fair countenance is shown him, it behooves a courteous knight quickly to claim a kiss." "Nay, my dear," said Sir Gawain, "cease that speech; I dare not, for I fear I would be denied. And if I were so denied, I would sincerely wished I had not so behaved.” "In faith," quoth the lady merrily, "ye would not be denied; and, ye are strong enough to constrain by strength, and ye will, were any so discourteous as to give ye denial." "Yea, by Heaven," said Gawain, "ye speak well; but threats profit little in the land where I dwell, and so with a gift that is given not of good will! I am at your commandment to kiss when ye like, to take or to leave as ye list." Then the lady bent her down and kissed him courteously. And as they spake together she said, "I would learn somewhat from ye, an ye would not be wroth, for young ye bare and fair, and so courteous and knightly as ye are known to be, the head of all chivalry, and versed in all wisdom of love and war--'tis ever told of true knights how they adventured their lives for their true love, and endured hardships for her favors, and avenged her with valor, and eased her sorrows, and brought joy to her bower; and ye are the fairest knight of your time, and your fame and your honour are everywhere, yet I have sat by ye here twice, and never a word have I heard of love! Ye who are so courteous and skilled in such love ought surely to teach one so young and unskilled some little craft of true love! Why are ye so unlearned who art otherwise so famous? Or is it that ye deemed me unworthy to hearken to your teaching? For shame, Sir Knight! I come hither alone and sit at your side to learn of ye some skill; teach me of your wit, while my lord is from home." "In good faith," quoth Gawain, "great is my joy and my profit that so fair a lady as ye are should deign to come hither, and trouble ye with so poor a man, and make sport with your knight with kindly countenance, it pleaseth me much. But that I, in my turn, should take it upon me to tell of love and such like matters to ye who know more by half, or a hundred fold, of such craft than I do, or ever shall in all my lifetime, by my truth it was folly indeed! I will work your will to the best of my might as I am bounden, and evermore will I be your servant, so help me Christ!" Then often with guile she questioned that knight that she might win him to woo her, but he defended himself so fairly that none might in any wise blame him, and naught but bliss and harmless jesting was there between them. They laughed and talked together till at last she kissed him, and craved her leave of him, and went her way. Then the knight arose and went forth to Mass, and afterward dinner was served and he sat and spake with the ladies all day. But the lord of the castle rode ever over the land chasing the wild boar, that fled through the thickets, slaying the best of his hounds and breaking their backs in sunder; till at last he was so weary he might run no longer, but made for a hole in a mound by a rock. He got the mound at his back and faced the hounds, whetting his white tusks and foaming at the mouth. The huntsmen stood aloof, fearing to draw nigh him; so many of them had been already wounded that they were loathe to be torn with his tusks, so fierce he was and mad with rage. At length the lord himself came up, and

saw the beast at bay, and the men standing aloof. Then quickly he sprang to the ground and drew out a bright blade, and waded through the stream to the boar. When the beast was aware of the knight with weapon in hand, he set up his bristles and snorted loudly, and many feared for their lord lest he should be slain. Then the boar leapt upon the knight so that beast and man were one atop of the other in the water; but the boar had the worst of it, for the man had marked, even as he sprang, and set the point of his brand to the beast's chest, and drove it up to the hilt, so that the heart was split in twain, and the boar fell snarling, and was swept down by the water to where a hundred hounds seized on him, and the men drew him to shore for the dogs to slay. Then was there loud blowing of horns and baying of hounds, the huntsmen smote off the boar's head, and hung the carcass by the four feet to a stout pole, and so went on their way homewards. The head they bore before the lord himself, who had slain the beast at the ford by force of his strong hand. It seemed him o'er long ere he saw Sir Gawain in the hall, and he called, and the guest came to take that which fell to his share. And when he saw Gawain the lord laughed aloud, and bade them call the ladies and the household together, and he showed them the game, and told them the tale, how they hunted the wild boar through the woods, and of his length and breadth and height; and Sir Gawain commended his deeds and praised him for his valor, well proven, for so mighty a beast had he never seen before. Then they handled the huge head, and the lord said aloud, "Now, Gawain, this game is your own by sure covenant, as ye right well know." "'Tis sooth," quoth the knight, "and as truly will I give ye all I have gained." He took the host round the neck, and kissed him courteously twice. "Now are we quits," he said, "this eventide, of all the covenants that we made since I came hither." And the lord answered, "By St. Giles, ye are the best I know; ye will be rich in a short space if ye drive such bargains!" Then they set up the tables on trestles, and covered them with fair cloths, and lit waxen tapers on the walls. The knights sat and were served in the hall, and much game and glee was there round the hearth, with many songs, both at supper and after; song of Christmas, and new carols, with all the mirth one may think of. And ever that lovely lady sat by the knight, and with still stolen looks made such feint of pleasing him, that Gawain marveled much, and was wroth with himself, but he could not for his courtesy return her fair glances, but dealt with her cunningly, however she might strive to wrest the thing. When they had tarried in the hall so long as it seemed them good, they turned to the inner chamber and the wide hearth-place, and there they drank wine, and the host proffered to renew the covenant for New Year's Eve; but the knight craved leave to depart on the morrow, for it was nigh to the term when he must fulfil his pledge. But the lord would withhold him from so doing, and prayed him to tarry, and said, "As I am a true knight I swear my troth that ye shall come to the Green Chapel to achieve your task on New Year's morn, long before prime. Therefore abide ye in your bed, and I will hunt in this wood, and hold ye to the covenant to exchange with me against all the spoil I may bring hither. For twice have I tried ye, and found ye true, and the morrow shall be the third time and the best. Make we merry now while we may, and think on joy, for misfortune may take a man when-so-ever it wills." Then Gawain granted his request, and they brought them drink, and they got them with lights to bed. Sir Gawain lay and slept softly, but the lord, who was keen on woodcraft, was afoot early. After Mass he and his men ate a morsel, and he asked for his steed; all the knights who should ride with him were already mounted before the hall gates. 'Twas a fair frosty morning, for the sun rose red in ruddy vapor, and the welkin was clear of clouds. The hunters scattered them by a forest side, and the rocks rang again with the

blast of their horns. Some came on the scent of a fox, and a hound gave tongue; the huntsmen shouted, and the pack followed in a crowd on the trail. The fox ran before them, and when they saw him they pursued him with noise and much shouting, and he wound and turned through many a thick grove, often cowering and hearkening in a hedge. At last by a little ditch he leapt out of a spinney, stole away slyly by a copse path, and so out of the wood and away from the hounds. But he went, ere he wished, to a chosen tryst, and three started forth on him at once, so he must needs double back, and betake him to the wood again. Then was it joyful to hearken to the hounds; when all the pack had met together and had sight of their game they made as loud a din as if all the lofty cliffs had fallen clattering together. The huntsmen shouted and threatened, and followed close upon him so that he might scarce escape, but Reynard was wily, and he turned and doubled upon them, and led the lord and his men over the hills, now on the slopes, now in the vales, while the knight at home slept through the cold morning beneath his costly curtains. But the fair lady of the castle rose betimes, and clad herself in a rich mantle that reached even to the ground, left her throat and her fair neck bare, and was bordered and lined with costly furs. On her head she wore no golden circlet, but a network of precious stones, that gleamed and shone through her tresses in clusters of twenty together. Thus she came into the chamber, closed the door after her, and set open a window, and called to him gaily, "Sir Knight, how may ye sleep? The morning is so fair." Sir Gawain was deep in slumber, and in his dream he vexed him much for the destiny that should befall him on the morrow, when he should meet the knight at the Green Chapel, and abide his blow; but when the lady spake he heard her, and came to himself, and roused from his dream and answered swiftly. The lady came laughing, and kissed him courteously, and he welcomed her fittingly with a cheerful countenance. He saw her so glorious and gaily dressed, so faultless of features and complexion, that it warmed his heart to look upon her. They spake to each other smiling, and all was bliss and good cheer between them. They exchanged fair words, and much happiness was therein, yet was there a gulf between them, and she might win no more of her knight, for that gallant prince watched well his words--he would neither take her love, nor frankly refuse it. He cared for his courtesy, lest he be deemed churlish, and yet more for his honour lest he be traitor to his host. "God forbid," quoth he to himself, "that it should so befall." Thus with courteous words did he set aside all the special speeches that came from her lips. Then spake the lady to the knight, "Ye deserve blame if ye hold not that lady who sits beside ye above all else in the world, if ye have not already a love whom ye hold dearer, and like better, and have sworn such firm faith to that lady that ye care not to loose it--and that am I now fain to believe. And now I pray ye straightly that ye tell me that in truth, and hide it not." And the knight answered, "By St. John", (and he smiled as he spake) "no such love have I, nor do I think to have yet awhile." "That is the worst word I may hear," quoth the lady, "but in sooth I have mine answer; kiss me now courteously, and I will go hence; I can but mourn as a maiden that loves much." Sighing, she stooped down and kissed him, and then she rose up and spake as she stood, "Now, dear, at our parting do me this grace: give me some gift, if it were but thy glove, that I may bethink me of my knight, and lessen my mourning." "Now, I wish," quoth the knight, "I would that I had here the most precious thing that I possess on earth that I might leave ye as love-token, great or small, for ye have deserved forsooth more reward than I might give ye. But it is not to your honour to have at this time a glove for reward as gift from Gawain, and I am here on a strange errand, and have no man with me, nor mails with goodly things--that mislikes me much, lady, at this time; but each man must fare as he is taken, if for sorrow and ill."

"Nay, knight highly honored," quoth that lovesome lady, "though I have naught of yours, yet shall ye have somewhat of mine." With that she reached him a ring of red gold with a sparkling stone therein, that shone even as the sun (wit ye well, it was worth many marks); but the knight refused it, and spake readily, "I will take no gift, lady, at this time. I have none to give, and none will I take." She prayed him to take it, but he refused her prayer, and swore in sooth that he would not have it. The lady was sorely vexed, and said, "If ye refuse my ring as too costly, that ye will not be so highly beholden to me, I will give you my girdle as a lesser gift." With that she loosened a lace that was fastened at her side, knit upon her girdle under her dress. It was wrought of green silk, and gold, only braided by the fingers, and that she offered to the knight, and besought him though it were of little worth that he would take it, and he said nay, he would touch neither gold nor gear ere God give him grace to achieve the adventure for which he had come hither. "And therefore, I pray ye, displease ye not, and ask me no longer, for I may not grant it. I am dearly beholden to ye for the favor ye have shown me, and ever, in heat and cold, will I be your true servant." "Now," said the lady, "ye refuse this silk, for it is simple in itself, and so it seems, indeed; lo, it is small to look upon and less in cost, but who so knew the virtue that is knit therein he would, peradventure, value it more highly. For whatever knight is girded with this green lace, while he bears it knotted about him there is no man under heaven can overcome him, for he may not be slain for any magic on earth." Then Gawain bethought him, and it came into his heart that this were a jewel for the jeopardy that awaited him when he came to the Green Chapel to seek the return blow-could he so order it that he should escape unslain, 'it was a craft worth trying. Then he bare with her chiding, and let her say her say, and she pressed the girdle on him and prayed him to take it, and he granted her prayer, and she gave it him with good will, and besought him for her sake never to reveal it but to hide it loyally from her lord; and the knight agreed that never should any man know it, save they two alone. He thanked her often and heartily, and she kissed him for the third time. Then she took her leave of him, and when she was gone Sir Gawain arose, and clad him in rich attire, and took the girdle, and knotted it round him, and it beneath his robes. Then he took his way to the chapel, and sought out a priest privately and prayed him to teach him better how his soul might be saved when he should go hence; and there he shrived him, and showed his misdeeds, both great and small, and besought mercy and craved absolution; and the priest blessed him, and set him as clean as if Doomsday had been on the morrow(7). And afterwards Sir Gawain made him merry with the ladies, with carols, and all kinds of joy, as never he did but that one day, even to nightfall; and all the men marveled at him, and said that never since he came thither had he been so merry. Meanwhile the lord of the castle was abroad chasing the fox; awhile he lost him, and as he rode through a thicket, he heard the hounds near at hand, and Reynard came creeping through a dense grove, with all the pack at his heels. Then the lord drew out his shining brand, and cast it at the beast, and the fox swerved aside for the sharp edge, and would have doubled back, but a hound was on him ere he might turn, and right before the horse's feet they all fell on him, and worried him fiercely, snarling the while. Then the lord leapt from his saddle, and caught the fox from the jaws, and held it aloft over his head, and hallooed loudly, and many brave hounds bayed as they beheld it; and the hunters hied them thither, blowing their horns; all that bare bugles blew them at once, and all the others shouted. 'Twas the merriest meeting that ever men heard, the clamour that was raised at the death of the fox. They rewarded the hounds, stroking them and rubbing their heads, and took Reynard and stripped him of his coat; then blowing their horns, they turned them homewards, for it was nigh nightfall.

The lord was gladsome at his return, and found a bright fire on the hearth, and the knight beside it, the good Sir Gawain, who was in joyous mood for the pleasure he had had with the ladies. He wore a robe of blue, that reached even to the ground, and a overcoat richly furred, that became him well. A hood like to the overcoat fell on his shoulders, and all alike were done about with fur. He met the host in the midst of the floor, and jesting, he greeted him, and said, "Now shall I be first to fulfil our covenant which we made together when there was no lack of wine." Then he embraced the knight, and kissed him thrice, as solemnly as he might. "Of a sooth," quoth the other, "ye have good luck in the matter of this covenant, if ye made a good exchange!" "Yea, it matters naught of the exchange," quoth Gawain, "since what I owe is swiftly paid." "Marry," said the other, "mine is behind, for I have hunted all this day, and naught have I got but this foul fox-skin, and that is but poor payment for three such kisses as ye have here given me." "Enough," quoth Sir Gawain, "I thank ye, by the Rood(8)." Then the lord told them of his hunting, and how the fox had been slain. With mirth and minstrelsy, and dainties at their will, they made them as merry as a folk well might till 'twas time for them to sever, for at last they must needs betake them to their beds. Then the knight took his leave of the lord, and thanked him fairly. "For the fair sojourn that I have had here at this high feast may the High King (9) give ye honour. I give ye myself, as one of your servants, if ye so like; for I must needs, as you know, go hence with the morn, and ye will give me, as ye promised, a guide to show me the way to the Green Chapel, an God will suffer me on New Year's Day to deal the doom of my weird." "By my faith," quoth the host, "all that ever I promised, that shall I keep with good will." Then he gave him a servant to set him in the way, and lead him by the downs, that he should have no need to ford the stream, and should fare by the shortest road through the groves; and Gawain thanked the lord for the honour done him. Then he would take leave of the ladies, and courteously he kissed them, and spake, praying them to receive his thanks, and they made like reply; then with many sighs they commended him to Christ, and he departed courteously from that folk. Each man that he met he thanked him for his service and his solace, and the pains he had been at to do his will; and each found it as hard to part from the knight as if he had ever dwelt with him. Then they led him with torches to his chamber, and brought him to his bed to rest. That he slept soundly I may not say, for the morrow gave him much to think on. Let him rest awhile, for he was near that which he sought, and if ye will but listen to me I will tell ye how it fared with him thereafter. Notes to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight excerpt 1. The translator of the text, Prof. Weston, has intentionally used a good many semiarchaic words, such as ye (you), t'were (it would be), and gramercy (God's mercy), and out-dated constructions, particularly verb complexes, in order that the feeling of the original - which also was written in a way to intentionally sound old - is somewhat retained. 2. The entire scene with Sir Gawain and Lady Bertilak is an echo of the French Courtly Love tradition. 3. To make the sign of the Christian Cross across the chest area as a prayer against evil.

4. The passage has at least three meanings: 1) Lady Bertilak is implying that she is the greater warrior or hunter as she has managed to sneak up on Sir Gawain "unawares", 2) that Sir Gawain is her prey, and 3) that she will catch him by "binding him to his bed" ~ trapping him with sensual pleasure. 5. Sir Gawain is universally acknowledged as the most honorable of all of King Arthur’s knights; and, indeed, it is for this very reason that Lady Bertilak has chosen to make him her victim! 6. The promise is made with the Sir Bertilak. 7. The custom of the Christian confession. 8. Rood = the Holy Cross. 9. High King = God (as opposed to earthly kings; e.g., King Arthur).

Chapter V: Late Medieval Times

------------------------------------------------------------------------------This lecture, which will cover circa 1350 to 1550, will be my concluding remarks on this period. Below are what I take to be the major developments of the times. 1. The Black Death 1347 - 1351 2. The Peasant's Rebellion 1381 3. John Wyclif c. 1330 - 1384 4. The Hundred Years' War 1337 - 1453 5. The Italian Renaissance 1350 - 1550 6. The Thirty Years' War 1455 - 1485 7. Modern Printing c. 1445 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Black Death was a bubonic-pneumonic plague which killed at least 25 million persons in Europe; in other words, something like a quarter of the population perished. Up to that time, this was the largest loss of life due to any single disaster. The origin of the disease was China and Inner Asia: the plague had slowly, but steadily, moved along the Silk Road reaching the Crimean (southern Ukrainian) area by 1341. A bizarre instance of early "biological warfare" was the actual mechanism by which the plague was carried to the rest of Europe: a Turkish army besieging an Italian trading post in the Crimea hit upon the somewhat novel idea of catapulting diseased corpses into the enemy camp. The "success" of this inhumanity exceeded, no doubt, everyone's wildest nightmares. The classic first-hand description of the Black Death is found in the introduction of The Decameron. Boccaccio details not only the horrid physical effects of the sickness, but, more

importantly, vividly sketches the social climate. For example, particularly frightening are his reports of how "…brother abandoned brother, uncle abandoned nephew, sister left brother, and very often wife abandoned husband, and - even worse, almost unbelievable fathers and mothers neglected to tend and care for their children, as if they were not their own." By the early 1350's the disease had begun to recede; the psychological effects on the European consciousness, however, were far more long lasting. Most famously, shortly after this time, the art form of the Danse Macabre (The Dance of Death) appears: whether in dramatic, pictorial, or poetic form, the essential scene shows Death, often personified as a grinning skeleton, in the act of seizing and dragging away his victim. An important element to note in these representations is the ubiquity of death : all persons, regardless of social position, from king to beggar, not only will be taken by Death, but can be taken at any time. The classic examples of the Danse Macabre are found in the woodblock prints of the German artist Hans Holbein. A wonderful collection of his works, and related materials, can be found at: http://www.godecookery.com/macabre/holdod/holdod.htm 2. The Peasant's Rebellion 1381 As a result of the Black Death and the (on-going) Hundred Years' War, the financial condition of the English government was weak. To make up for this deficiency (wars cost money!), a tax was levied on all working persons in 1381; this, however, was but the immediate cause of the rebellion. For many years prior to this John of Gaunt (a principal government official) had been harshly dealing with the peasantry. Thus, slowly but steadily, the background of discontent for this uprising was built. The Peasant's Rebellion, which was the first of its kind in English history, was a failure, as the repressive feudal system remained unchanged. It did, however, have the minor effect of making the Crown a bit more cautious in its domestic taxation practices (this caution, however, did not extend to its colonial taxation policies, as the American Revolution demonstrates). The most famous reference in literature to the Peasant's Rebellion was penned by one of its leaders, the preacher John Ball: When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then a gentleman? Meaning, apparently, that under "natural" social conditions equality, not hierarchy, is the norm.

3. John Wyclif c. 1330 - 1384 Wyclif is significant in two respects: 1) the earliest English translations of the Bible were carried out by followers of his under his directions, and, 2) in his attacks on the abuses of the church and their interference in non-religious matters he is viewed, by some scholars, as anticipating the Reformation. 4. The Hundred Years' War c. 1337 - 1453 Perhaps better described as a series of wars, the essential point of dispute being the legal (if, indeed, the word "legal" can be applied to the Middle Ages at all) successor to the French throne. The French kings of this time held themselves to be so; the English kings, naturally enough, disagreed. There are only two points I want to make on this long, complex, and basically disorganized, conflict. First, when Henry VII removes his forces from France, there follows not only a political but also a cultural disassociation from the French. Thus, the English being to see themselves as a separate cultural entity, with the emphasis then being, naturally, on the development of the English language and English culture. Second, this is the time of Joan of Arc (c. 1412 - 1431); she was the leader of the victorious French forces at the decisive battle of Orleans (1429). After the loss at Orleans, though the war will drag on for another 24 years, the English will be on the constant retreat. Joan, it must be noted, is certainly one of the most fascinating, and tragic, figures not only of the medieval times, but indeed, of all history. 5. The Italian Renaissance c. 1350 - 1550 The Italian, and following European, Renaissance is actually the next major phase of western history; in the European culture course I devout two entire lectures to this period, and thus can in no way do it justice with this note! What follows are the barest of essentials. Renaissance means "rebirth" - the rebirth of classical Greek and Roman culture (arts and sciences). In brief, as a result of the fall of Rome, the ensuing Dark Ages (c. 500 - 1000), and the dogmatism of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, much of the ancient learning had been lost. With the Crusades ( 1096 - 1270), however, western Europe is reintroduced, by the Byzantine Empire, to Greco-Roman civilization. Initially, it was the artists and scholars of Italy who made the most of this reintroduction, thus beginning the Renaissance. This movement started with literary work, the poet and classics translator Petrarch now being called the Father of the Renaissance. Boccaccio's Decameron, as a work in its own right and as a major influence on Chaucer, is notable. Finally is the masterpiece of Renaissance literature, Dante's Divine Comedy. The High Renaissance (1490 - 1530) is justly famous for its painting, sculpture, and architecture: the "Big Four" being, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Titian.

6. The Thirty Years' War (a.k.a., The War of the Roses) 1455 - 1485 A civil war between the two main English groups of the time, the Houses of Lancaster (whose symbol was the white rose) and York (using the red rose). Lancaster, with Henry Tudor (Henry VII on taking the throne) as their leader, was victorious. York, however, was still a power to be reckoned with, and so Henry, in true medieval fashion, took Elizabeth of York as his queen. 8. Modern Printing c. 1445 After a great of experimentation (and failure) Johann Gutenberg devises the first moveabletype printing press; his key development was the casting of reliable types (the press, though modified by Gutenberg, had been known for some time). The essentials in the early history of printing are as follows. The Chinese, c. 800 AD, invent the woodblock printing (xylography) technique; some two hundred years after this a rudimentary moveable-type is created but never fully developed (the structure of written Chinese makes the project wholly impractical). Xylography, possibly imported from Asia, appears in Europe in the fourteenth century. Very soon after this the idea of moveable-type occurs to European printers ~ the manufacture of a reliable type-die, however, would take roughly 100 years of experimentation.

The Information Age is actually born here, 1445, with Gutenberg's press. The latest development is the internet.

CHAPTER V: Chaucer c. 1343 - 1400

Rather than give the standard overview of Chaucer, or simply repeat some welldocumented aspect of his work, I intend here instead to present an analysis of the opening paragraph of The Canterbury Tales. This analysis, if not wholly original, at least will have the merit of being a concrete (as opposed to the usual general discussions), albeit small, example of Chaucer's artistry. My specific emphasis will be on the opening paragraph's "sets of symbols" (an important, though unfortunately, not much discussed topic). There are three sets: 1) creation, 2) divisions and connections in creation, and 3) renewal of creation. For your convenience, here is the text. Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of march hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ye (so priketh hem Nature in hir corages);

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------To begin with we have, though in a general way only, a Biblical parallel in the set of shoures, Zephirus, holt and heeth, and yonge sonne: water, wind (the breath or spirit of God), land, and light. Foweles and folk, representing, respectively, animals and humanity, are next, thus completing the Christian creation sequence. Note well that there is a division in this group between shoures, Zephirus, holt and heeth, yonge sonne, and fowles, on the one hand, and folk, on the other. Chaucer signals this separation by the sentence "(so priketh hem Nature in hir corages)", and "Thanne...". The point here is that, on the Christian view, there is a strict division of creation: the environment (including natural processes, the Earth, plants, and animals) being one realm or order of existence, while humanity is something quite different. And this difference is crucial: Christian doctrine holds that only humanity is endowed with soul and freewill. The classic expression of these ideas in late medieval philosophy are found in Descartes. Thus, on the Christian view, the defining difference between humanity and Nature is that the former possesses soul; the common ground of the two realms, however, is that of physical sensation. Note the series melodye, ye, and corages, connoting, respectively, sound, sight, and heart. These three symbols form the bridge or point of connection between the natural (lines 1-11) and human (lines 12-18) realms. Next, we have the idea that both physical and spiritual being have the necessity of renewal. The essential characteristic of the natural world is physical, and is thus refreshed by physical processes (i.e., water, wind, and sun); whereas humanity is defined by soul, which must be redeemed by spiritual means (for example, a pilgrimage). Furthermore, if this section is examined carefully, we find here two wonderful indications of Chaucer's humanism. First, the pilgrimage, although primarily a spiritual endeavor, is also physical (in the sense of an arduous journey). Second, that this opening paragraph concludes with "That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke" again stresses recognition of humanity's physical nature. In sum, then, in this opening paragraph, Chaucer subtly moves from Nature to humanity, from physical to spiritual, and while doing so gives the connections and differences between

the two. Not only are these lines of a high technical level, but also show Chaucer as a forerunner of the English Renaissance. ______________________________________________________________________________ Here follows the opening 42 lines of The Canterbury Tales, ME first with literal translation beneath. 1 1 2 2 3 3 4 4 5 5 6 6 7 7 8 8 9 9 10 10 11 11 12 12 13 13 14 14 15 15 16 16 17 17 18 18 19 19 20 20 21 21 22

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote When April with its sweet-smelling showers The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, Has pierced the drought of March to the root, And bathed every veyne in swich licour And bathed every vein (of the plants) in such liquid Of which vertu engendred is the flour; By whose power the flour is engendered; Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth When the West Wind also with its sweet breath, Inspired hath in every holt and heeth In every holt and heath, has breathed life into The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne The tender crops, and the young sun Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne, Has run its half course in Aries, And smale foweles maken melodye, And small fowls make melody, That slepen al the nyght with open ye Those that sleep all the night with open eyes (So priketh hem Nature in hir corages), (So Nature incites them in their hearts), Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, Then folk long to go on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, And professional pilgrims (long) to seek foreign shores, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; To (go to) distant shrines, known in various lands; And specially from every shires ende And specially from every shire's end Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende, Of England to Canterbury they travel, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, To seek the holy blessed martyr, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. Who helped them when they were sick. Bifil that in that seson on a day, It happened that in that season on a day, In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay In Southwerk at the Tabard Inn as I lay Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage Ready to go on my pilgrimage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,

22 23 23 24 24 25 25 26 26 27 27 28 28 29 29 30 30 31 31 32 32 33 33 34 34

To Canterbury with a very devout spirit, At nyght was come into that hostelrye At night had come into that hostelry Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye Well nine and twenty in a company Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle Of various sorts of people, by chance fallen In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle, In fellowship, and they were all pilgrims, That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde. Who intended to ride toward Canterbury. The chambres and the stables weren wyde, The bedrooms and the stables (of the inn) were spacious, And wel we weren esed atte beste. And we were well accommodated in the best way. And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, And in brief, when the sun was (gone) to rest, So hadde I spoken with hem everichon I had so spoken with everyone of them That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, That I was of their fellowship straightway, And made forward erly for to ryse, And made agreement to rise early, To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse. To take our way whereas I (will) tell you.

35 35 36 36 37 37 38 38 39 39 40 40 41 41 42 42

But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space, But nonetheless, while I have time and opportunity, Er that I ferther in this tale pace, Before I proceed further in this tale, Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun It seems to me in accord with reason To telle yow al the condicioun To tell you all the condition Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, Of each of them, as it seemed to me, And whiche they weren, and of what degree, And what they were, and of what social rank, And eek in what array that they were inne; And also what clothing that they were in; And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne. And at a knight then will I first begin.

Chapter VII

Shakespeare Shakespeare's "Periods of Work" Due to our time limitations, the class lecture on this topic will be rather brief, being confined to but main points. I here expand the information that will be given to the extent that these notes provide 1) a complete list of Shakespeare's writings, appended with (sometimes very!) tentative dates, and 2) comments on the general nature of each period, followed by any particular remarks or examples which seem appropriate. Overview -------------------------------------------------------------------------------(All dates are circa!) 1. Experimentation 1590 - 1595 2. Development of Personal style 1595 - 1600 Romeo and Juliet can be considered Shakespeare's first great work; Julius Caesar his next.

3. Tragedy 1601- 1608 Shakespeare's four greatest works - Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, and Macbeth - are written here. 4. Romance 1608 - 1613 Detailed Descriptions of the Periods -------------------------------------------------------------------------------(T = tragedy, H = historical, and C = comedy) I. EXPERIMENTATION 1590 - 1595 · The Sonnets 1590 · Titus Andronicus 1590 T · King Henry VI (in three parts) 1590 H · Richard III 1591 H (forming part 4 of the above) · The Taming of the Shrew 1592 C · The Two Gentlemen of Verona 1592 - 93 C · Venus and Adonis (poem) pub. 1593 · The Rape of Lucrece (poem) pub. 1594 · The Comedy of Errors performed 1594 C · Love's Labor Lost 1595 C The order given here is not to be taken as exact, but rather only represents an approximation (e.g., part, or even possibly all, of Henry VI could have been written before Titus Andronicus). The central point to note in the ordering is that the single tragedy (i.e., Titus Andronicus) and historical tetralogy (i.e., Henry VI and Richard III) come before the four comedies, in the middle of which where published (dates of composition uncertain) two poems of classically-derived, tragi-romantic theme. Further, we immediately notice, here at the beginning of his writing career, an amazing productivity: 12 works in five years averages out to one every five months! With very little slowdown, this schedule will continue until Shakespeare's retirement in 1613. Moving to an examination of the structures and themes of these early works, we will not readily find the qualities for which Shakespeare is later to become so famous (e.g., the tightly woven plot; the complexity of characterization; the striking insights into human nature). Rather, these works, as a group, exhibit 1) an experimentation with, and interest in, structure, and 2) occasional flashes of brilliance in language and insight. Two examples will suffice.

The tragedy Titus Andronicus is, by any reckoning, a bizarre production; many critics have remarked on its "repulsive" characteristics (1), and even its Restoration adapter, Edward Ravenscroft, said, " It seems rather a heap of rubbish than a structure" (2). And yet, against this, stands the character of Aaron, who, undoubtedly has a "Shakespearean" quality, and is given some excellent lines. At the end of the play, Aaron speaks the following lines: "Ah, why should wrath be mute and fury dumb? I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done; Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did Would I perform, if I might have my will. If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul." Earlier, whilst plotting, he says: "He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villainy. And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest." The Sonnets provide a second example, for, as R. Ellrodt points out, "Shakespeare wrote within a convention, but how much of the convention he left out deserves notice" (3). In brief, though retaining the basic form of the sonnet, Shakespeare's adaptation of it was extensive (a simple comparison with Petrarch will prove this). Here is Sonnet 27.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired, But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired. For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see. Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night) Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for my self, no quiet find. ________________________________________________ Finally, here are a few other quotes from these early works. From Henry VI, Part One My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do. From Richard III Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dream'st on aught but butcheries. From The Comedy of Errors Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, And by the doom of death end woes and all. ___________________________________________________

II. Development of Personal Style 1595 - 1600 · Romeo and Juliet 1595 T · Richard II 1595 H · A Midsummer Night's Dream 1595 - 96 C · The Merchant of Venice 1596 - 98 C · Henry IV (Parts one and two) 1597 H · The Merry Wives of Windsor 1597 C · Much Ado About Nothing 1598 - 99 C · Henry V 1599 H · Julius Caesar 1599 H · As You Like it 1599 C · Twelfth Night 1601 C · King John 1591 - 98 H Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare's first great work, marks the beginning of his development into a mature and unique talent in literature. The works of this period are technically and artistically superior to anything written in the previous phase. The structures of the plays are now economical, each part neatly fitting into the next with no wastage, and the language, while striking and beautiful, does not overextend itself into "undergraduate extravagance". More importantly, however, is the Bard's artistic development: it is at this time that the classic Shakespearean character, the hallmark of which is realistic complexity of personality, strides onto stage. The doomed lovers of Romeo and Juliet; the paradoxical Falstaff (in Henry IV and The Merry Wives of Windsor); the opposed, but perhaps equally honorable, Antony and Brutus in Julius Caesar; and Twelfth Night's wise fool Feste, all provide ready examples. Let us take a moment to look at Brutus. When we read, or, much better, hear performed, Antony's key speech, it is quite easy to be swayed, as the Roman citizens are, by his eloquent rhetoric (note well the beautifully rendered irony of the lines, "For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,/Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech/To stir men's blood. I only speak right on./I tell you that which you yourselves do know." 3.2, 222-225). Despite all this, however, Brutus is, indeed, "an honorable man". Brutus has agreed, reluctantly and with hesitation, to participate in the murder of Caesar not out of any personal hatred of the man (as, actually, the other conspirators have), but because, truly, he fears that Rome's democracy will be lost if Caesar is crowned sole ruler ("… not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more." 3.2, 21.). Whether we agree with this decision or not the point is that we cannot, in any way, simply classify Brutus as an evil, or even well-intentioned-but-

stupid, character: Brutus, as indeed Antony, is a complex man in a difficult situation - who deals with that situation as best as he humanly can. And thus we have the mirror held up to Nature, and the art of Shakespeare therein. III. Tragedy 1601 - 1608 It is here, in Shakespeare's third period, that his greatest work - Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, and Macbeth - appear; they are all tragedies. In fact, all the works of this period are tragedies. One is naturally lead to ask what causes, if any, in the writer's life influenced this phase; it being not only his greatest period of work but also, as it were, all of a piece. The simple truth, however, remains: we actually know very little about Shakespeare's life. Of the scant information we have, all that seems relevant are the deaths of his son Hamnet, 1596, his father, 1601, and mother, 1608. There, may, however, be another route of inquiry. Rather than attempting to pry into the man's private life for an answer to the question "why?", we might, more deeply, ask about his development as an artist. Could it be, that by this time in his life, the Bard was lead to the conclusion that the most accurate reflection of the human condition in the mirror of Art is nothing but tragedy? If this observation be correct, Shakespeare stands midpoint between Aristotle and Schopenhauer In the time we have it is impossible to give even the briefest of introductions to Shakespeare's four great tragedies; I will, therefore restrict myself to a few general comments about Hamlet. First, it should be clearly recognized that although Hamlet is (sometimes) technically classed as a "revenge tragedy" (the classic examples being Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy, 1592; Marlowe's The Jew of Malta, pub. 1633; and, least we forget what many would like to forget, Titus Andronicus), in fact, the true theme of the play has nothing to do with revenge: the entire focus of the drama is Hamlet's depth and sensitivity of character in relation to his disillusionment with life. The particular events brought before us (the murder of Hamlet's father; his mother's, and friend's, betrayal of him; poor Ophelia's madness and death; Laertes' dishonorable conduct) all serve only to focus and sharpen Hamlet's growing conviction that life, all life, is " stale, flat, and profitless'. In short, the world is not what young Hamlet thought it was. Or, as Schopenhauer says, "The world is glorious to look at, but dreadful in reality" (4). Hamlet's realization of this fact, and his struggle to come to grips with it, form the central theme of this drama. IV Romance 1608 - 1613 · Pericles 1606-08 R · Cymbeline 1609-10 R

· The Winter's Tale 1610-11 R · The Tempest 1610-11 R Shakespeare's last four works are perhaps best described as romances of tragi-comic content. This period is often labeled as one of "restored serenity", in that it contrasts with the previous series of tragedies. Again, however, as we know so little of the poet's life, caution should be used in applying this description to anything beyond the writings themselves. These four final works (the outstanding piece being The Tempest) are connected in at least two ways. First, the tone of these plays might be described as classical fantasy; in the style, for example, of the ancient Greek tale of Jason's quest for the golden fleece. Second, the conflicts are resolved, not in any realistic manner, but rather by magical and "fantastical" means. As a group, these plays seem to present life, its problems, and the resolutions of those problems, as all something essentially mysterious, inexplicable. The twin key points, however, or so it seems to me, are 1) that, no, we cannot understand why things happen as they do, but 2) the problems that do arise are indeed resolved in favor of the Good and Right. Finally, if the given interpretation be correct, the beauteous Swan of Avon has flown us, and himself , back to the garden of the Academy, where we walk again with the divine Plato. References -------------------------------------------------------------------------------1. The Cambridge History of English and American Literature in 18 Volumes (1907-21): On-line Edition. Volume V. The Drama to 1642, Part One. VIII. Shakespeare: Life and Plays: Section 8: The Earliest group. (A truly wonderful resource: http://www.bartleby.com/cambridge/) 2. The Oxford Companion to English Literature, edited by Margaret Drabble. Oxford University Press, 1985. Page 986, Titus Andronicus. 3. The Cambridge Companion to Shakespeare Studies, edited by Stanley Wells. Shanghai Foreign Language Education Press, 2000. Page 35. 4. Schopenhauer, Arthur. The Wisdom of Life and Counsels And Maxims, translated by T. Bailey Saunders. Prometheus Books, 1995. Page 98. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------Excerpts from Shakespeare Sonnet 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (1) Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven (2) shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime (3) declines, (4) By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed (5) : But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st (6); Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade (7), When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st (8), So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee (9). Notes to Sonnet 18 The Oxford Companion to English Literature informs us that a sonnet is “a poem consisting of 14 lines… with rhymes arranged according to one or other of certain definite schemes…” (p. 920). The “modern” form of the sonnet was developed by the Italian poet Petrarch (1304 –1374). The Petrarchan sonnet is divided into two parts. The first eight lines, called the octave, introduce the theme; the rhyme structure is abba abba. The last six lines are termed the sestet, and provide the answer to the theme; the rhyme structure is cde cde. The Shakespearean sonnet, however, differs in several ways from its predecessor. First, the division of the poem is into four parts: three quatrains (i.e., groups of four lines), and a concluding couplet. The quatrains function in the following way: 1) introduction, 2) development, and 3) conclusion. The couplet, however, may serve either as 1) a finishing thought/image, or,2) a shift of ideas, thus leading the reader on to the next sonnet. As a whole, Shakespeare’s Sonnets can be divided into two major groups: the first 126 being addressed to a young male friend (possibly of the initials W.H.), with 127 – 154 speaking to a “Dark Lady”. The actual identities of these persons, as well as others mentioned in the Sonnets, have remained, despite much scholarly snooping, wholly mysterious. The first group can further be sub-divided into 1 –17, where the poet urges his friend to marry and reproduce his beauty through children, whereas 18 – 126 form a more subtle discussion of Beauty, with the poet’s friend serving as the perfect model. 1. It is important to catch the charming, rhetorical quality of this opening line.

2. "eye of heaven": kenning for the sun. 3. "fair from fair": beautiful things from Beauty. 4. Paraphrase of lines 2 - 7 : You are more lovely and even-tempered than Summer; sometimes in May the wind is rough, or the sun is too hot, or it is cloudy (i.e., goldcomplexioned dimmed); and Summer is too short. 5. Untrimmed: stripped of beauty. 6. Ow’st : own, possess. 7. Note that death is personified as the destroyer of beauty; “shade” means “place of the dead”. 8. A difficult line that has received various interpretations. As I understand it, however, “eternal” means inevitable or fated, “lines” connotes something like “groups of creatures”, “to time thou grow’st” refers to growing old and, finally, death. Thus, I would paraphrase line 12 as “When your inevitable time comes to die”. 9. Here “breathe” alludes to spirit, and “see” to understanding; “this” means “this poem”, but, more generally, Art. Thus, as long as humans have Artistic sense and as long as this poem remains, the poet believes his friend’s beauty will be preserved. These last two lines are important in two ways: 1) the mark the onset of the more in-depth discussions of Beauty to follow (i.e., sonnets 19 – 126), and 2) they concisely state a certain theory of Aesthetics: that one of the key functions of Art is the preservation of , what would be, passing or temporal, beauty. ______________________________________________________________________________ Excerpt 2 : Mark Antony’s speech from Julius Caesar (Several prominent Romans, with Brutus as their leader, have just murdered Caesar. They enter the Forum to publicly give their reasons for doing so.) SCENE II The Forum. Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of Citizens. CITIZENS. We will be satisfied! Let us be satisfied! BRUTUS. Then follow me and give me audience, friends. Cassius, go you into the other street and part the numbers (1).

Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; and public reasons shall be rendered of Caesar's death. FIRST CITIZEN. I will hear Brutus speak. SECOND CITIZEN. I will hear Cassius and compare their reasons, When severally (2) we hear them rendered. ( Exit Cassius, with some Citizens. Brutus goes into the pulpit.)

THIRD CITIZEN. The noble (3) Brutus is ascended. Silence! BRUTUS (4). Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, that that Caesar were dead to live all freemen? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman?(5) If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. ALL. None, Brutus, none. BRUTUS. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the capital, his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffered death. (Enter Antony and others, with Caesar's body.) Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, place in the commonwealth, as which of you shall not? With this I depart- that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death (6). ALL. Live, Brutus, live, live! FIRST CITIZEN. Bring him with triumph home unto his house. SECOND CITIZEN. Give him a statue with his ancestors. THIRD CITIZEN. Let him be Caesar. FOURTH CITIZEN. Caesar's better parts Shall be crown'd in Brutus. FIRST CITIZEN. We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamors. BRUTUS. My countrymenSECOND CITIZEN. Peace! Silence! Brutus speaks. FIRST CITIZEN. Peace, ho!

BRUTUS. Good countrymen, let me depart alone, and, for my sake, stay here with Antony. Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech tending to Caesar's glories, which Mark Antony, by our permission, is allow'd to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, save I alone, till Antony have spoke. (Exit) FIRST CITIZEN. Stay, ho, and let us hear Mark Antony. THIRD CITIZEN. Let him go up into the public chair; We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up. ANTONY. For Brutus' sake, I am beholding (7) to you. Goes into the pulpit. FOURTH CITIZEN. What does he say of Brutus? THIRD CITIZEN. He says, for Brutus' sake, He finds himself beholding to us all. FOURTH CITIZEN. 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. FIRST CITIZEN. This Caesar was a tyrant. THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, that's certain. We are blest that Rome is rid of him (8). SECOND CITIZEN. Peace! Let us hear what Antony can say. ANTONY. You gentle RomansALL. Peace, ho! Let us hear him. ANTONY (9) . Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him(10). The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble (11) Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious; if it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest- For Brutus is an honorable man; So are they all, all honorable menCome I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; but Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, whose ransoms did the general coffers fill. Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; ambition should be made of sterner stuff: yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honorable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, and sure he is an honorable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause; What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason. Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me (12). FIRST CITIZEN. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. SECOND CITIZEN. If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar has had great wrong.

THIRD CITIZEN. Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place. FOURTH CITIZEN. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious. FIRST CITIZEN. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. SECOND CITIZEN. Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping. THIRD CITIZEN. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. FOURTH CITIZEN. Now mark him, he begins again to speak (13). ANTONY. But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world. Now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters! If I were disposed to stir your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, who, you all know, are honorable men. I will not do them wrong; I rather choose to wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, than I will wrong such honorable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar; I found it in his closet, 'tis his will. Let but the commons hear this testament- which, pardon me, I do not mean to read (14), and they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, yea, beg a hair of him for memory, and, dying, mention it within their wills, bequeathing it as a rich legacy unto their issue. FOURTH CITIZEN. We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony. ALL. The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will. ANTONY. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad. 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs, For if you should, O, what would come of it! FOURTH CITIZEN. Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony. You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. ANTONY. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot (15) myself to tell you of it. I fear I wrong the honorable men Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it. FOURTH CITIZEN. They were traitors. Honorable men! ALL. The will! The testament! SECOND CITIZEN. They were villains, murtherers. The will! Read the will! ANTONY. You will compel me then to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar (16), And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?

ALL. Come down. SECOND CITIZEN. Descend. He comes down from the pulpit. THIRD CITIZEN. You shall have leave. FOURTH CITIZEN. A ring, stand round. FIRST CITIZEN. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. SECOND CITIZEN. Room for Antony, most noble Antony. ANTONY. Nay, press not so upon me, stand far off. ALL. Stand back; room, bear back! ANTONY. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle. I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii. Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through; See what a rent the envious Casca made; Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, as rushing out of doors, to be resolved if Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him. Then burst his mighty heart, And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel the dint of pity. These are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you when you but behold our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. FIRST CITIZEN. O piteous spectacle! SECOND CITIZEN. O noble Caesar! THIRD CITIZEN. O woeful day! FOURTH CITIZEN. O traitors villains! FIRST CITIZEN. O most bloody sight! SECOND CITIZEN. We will be revenged. ALL. Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live! ANTONY. Stay, countrymen. FIRST CITIZEN. Peace there! Hear the noble Antony.

SECOND CITIZEN. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. ANTONY. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable. What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it. They are wise and honorable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend, and that they know full well that gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, to stir men's blood. I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny (17). ALL. We'll mutiny. FIRST CITIZEN. We'll burn the house of Brutus. THIRD CITIZEN. Away, then! Come, seek the conspirators. ANTONY. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. ALL. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony! ANTONY. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what (18). Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not; I must tell you then. You have forgot the will I told you of. ALL. Most true, the will! Let's stay and hear the will. ANTONY. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. SECOND CITIZEN. Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death. THIRD CITIZEN. O royal Caesar! (19) ANTONY. Hear me with patience. ALL. Peace, ho! ANTONY. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs forever- common pleasures, To walk abroad and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar! When comes such another? FIRST CITIZEN. Never, never. Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. Take up the body. SECOND CITIZEN. Go fetch fire.

THIRD CITIZEN. Pluck down benches. FOURTH CITIZEN. Pluck down forms, windows, anything. (Exeunt Citizens with the body) ANTONY. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt (20). Notes to Mark Antony’s speech 1. part the numbers: divide the crowd 2. severally: individually, separately 3. Brutus is known for his noble, upright character. 4. Shakespearean scholars have noted that Brutus’ speech is “Spartan” in style: brief, direct, unemotional, and official in tone. 5. The question is rhetorical and therefore expects no answer. 6. Paraphrase: I, Brutus, have taken part in the killing of Caesar; and now you, the citizens of Rome, shall, in punishment for this, kill me. 7. Beholding, here, means, speaking. 8. Note that the crowd, at this point swayed by Brutus’ speech, is entirely in favor of him. 9. The style of Antony’s speech has been termed “Asiatic” or Florid, meaning lengthy, indirect, emotional, and generally dramatic and colorful. 10. One of the most famous lines in all English literature. 11. Antony’s use of “noble” here is, apparently, sincere. Note, however, that as his speech continues, subtly, an ironic tinge creeps in. 12. Antony’s first dramatic pause. 13. The mood of the crowd is already beginning to change in favor of Antony. 14. Of course, Antony brought the will with him with every intention to read it to the crowd. This is his second dramatic act. 15. O’ershot myself: gone further than I should have. This is, of course, a lie: he knows full well what he is doing. 16. Having the citizens form a circle around the corpse of Caesar is Antony’s third dramatic demonstration. 17. From “I have neither wit…” to “…mutiny” is wholly ironic in tone.

18. Indeed! They go to perform the will of Antony. 19. Note well that the final cause which motivates the citizens to violence against Brutus and his fellow conspirators is economic: because Caesar has given money and property to the citizens they now seek revenge for his murder. We here see Antony’s, and possibly Shakespeare’s, skeptical attitude toward human nature: people cannot be trusted to do something just because it is the right thing, but additionally need to feel economic loss. 20. This sentence, which Antony speaks to himself, reveals that all along he had intended, if possible, to incite the citizens to violence against Brutus and the other conspirators. _____________________________________________________________________________ Excerpt 3: Hamlet’s soliloquy ( 3.1, 57 – 89) To be, or not to be- that is the question (1): Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles (2), And by opposing end them. To die- to sleepNo more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd (3). To die- to sleep. To sleep- perchance (4) to dream: ay, there's the rub (5) ! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil (6), Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life (7). For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely (8), The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus (9) make With a bare bodkin (10)? Who would these fardels (11) bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after deathThe undiscover'd country, from whose bourn (12) No traveller returns - puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of (13)? Thus conscience (14) does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution And lose the name of action (15). Notes to Hamlet’s soliloquy 1. Paraphrase: To live or to commit suicide: this is the question I am considering. 2. Paraphrase: I wonder which is more noble: to simply bear the ill fortunes of life, or to fight against them? 3. ‘Tis … : It is something we sincerely hope would be true. 4. Perchance: perhaps. 5. Rub: problem, difficulty. 6. Died. 7. The longer you live , the more you worry about Death. 8. Insolent abuse. 9. Death. 10. Dagger. 11. Burdens.

12. Boundary. 13. Suicide is often prevented not out of love for life, but rather simply out of fear of death. 14. Fear. 15. Fear causes our resolution to become ill ( it loses its “native hue”: natural, or healthy, color), and thus we do nothing.

CHAPTER VIII Milton Précis

John Milton 1608 - 1674 Contents 1. Notes on Paradise Lost 2. Milton's "Periods of Work" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------1. Notes on Paradise Lost Paradise Lost is considered the greatest epic poem in the English language. The key-points of the poem may be divided into technical and artistic categories: I. Technical 1. In this poem Milton's style is Latinate (i.e., Latin-derived). By choosing this style (his version now being called Miltonic English) the poet achieves a greater formality, solemnity, grandness, and originality than would have been otherwise possible with the standard English of his times. The striking qualities of Miltonic English had a strong impact on successive writers; thus Paradise Lost is a milestone in the development of the English language.

2. Furthermore, the Miltonic English of Paradise Lost is in blank verse; the poet's advancement of this form is considerable. Therefore, Milton is the third major developer (the first being Marlowe, the second Shakespeare) of blank verse. (Again, the principal forms and periods of English poetry: OE alliteration, Middle English French-influenced rhyme, Elizabethan blank verse, and modern free verse.) II. Artistic Milton's influence on English literature, indeed, on western culture in general, has been tremendous. This much is undoubted. The question of whether that influence has been positive or negative, however, has been the subject of much debate. Basically speaking, those of the neo-classical school, for example Dr. Johnson (1), have praised Milton highly, whereas the modernists, for example T.S. Eliot (2), have thought Milton wholly damaging. In any event, we may recognize the following artistic points about Paradise Lost: 1) The Christian "creation and downfall" story is given vivid portrayal. 2) The humanistic interpretation of Satan, Adam, and Eve is noteworthy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------2. Milton's "Periods of Work" Milton's writings are easily dividable into three periods: 1. Student Years, 2. Political Writings, and 3. Major Poetic Works. Below is an outline listing the key works for each phase. Student Years 1629-39

• • • •

On the Morning of Christ's Nativity 1629 L'allegro 1632 Il Perseroso 1632 Lycidas 1637

Political Writings 1641-63 A great deal of work was produced during this time, mostly pamphlets, concerning religious, civil, and domestic liberties. •

The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce 1643

Major Poetic Works 1663-71 • • •

Paradise Lost 1667 Paradise Regained 1671 Samson Agonistes (Samson the Athlete) 1671

References 1. Johnson, Samuel The Lives of the English Poets , The Life of Milton. 1779. (A classic in English literary criticism.) 2. Eliot, T.S. On Poetry and Poets, London, 1957, p. 156 -83.

Paradise Lost THE ARGUMENT. (1) This first Book proposes, first in brief, the whole Subject, Man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise wherein he was placed: Then touches the prime cause of his fall, the Serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent; who revolting from God, and drawing to his side many Legions of Angels, was by the command of God driven out of Heaven with all his Crew into the great Deep. Which action past over, the Poem hasts into the midst of things, presenting Satan with his Angels now fallen into Hell, described here, not in the Center (for Heaven and Earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accurst) but in a place of utter darkness, filthiest called Chaos: Here Satan with his Angels lying on the burning Lake, thunder-struck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion, calls up him who next in Order and Dignity lay by him; they confer of their miserable fall. Satan awakens all his Legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded; They rise, their Numbers, array of Battle, their chief Leaders named, according to the Idols known afterwards in Canaan and the Countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his Speech, comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven, but tells them lastly of a new World and new kind of Creature to be created, according to an ancient Prophesy or report in Heaven; for that Angels were long before this visible Creation, was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of this Prophesy, and what to determine thereon he refers to a full Counsel. What his Associates thence attempt. Pandemonium (2) the Palace of Satan rises, suddenly built out of the Deep: The infernal Peers there sit in Council. Man’s First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste Brought Death into the World, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man (3) Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, Sing Heavenly Muse (4), that on the secret top Of Oreb (5), or of Sinai, didst inspire That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed (6), In the Beginning (7) how the Heavens and Earth Rose out of Chaos (8): Or if Sion Hill (9) Delight thee more, and Siloa's Brook (10) that flowed Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous Song (11) That with no middle flight intends to soar Above the Aonian Mount (12), while it pursues Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime (13). And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer

Before all Temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like satst (14) brooding on the vast Abyss And mad'st it pregnant (15): What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the highth of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the wayes of God to men (16). Notes 1. Argument. Milton announces that he intends to follow classical precedents by beginning his epic in medias res, in the middle of things, and only later coming back, by reported action, to beginnings. The story of creation, for example, comes in book 7. 2. Pandemonium. Literally, "all the demons." Milton coins the name for the assembly hall of devils whose erection is recounted at the end of book 1. 3. one greater Man. The Messiah. 4. Heavenly Muse. Is the "Heavenly Muse" invoked here the same as the "Urania," traditionally the muse of astronomy, invoked at book 7.1? More likely, contemporary readers would have first thought of the "Holy Spirit," as the inspiration of Moses. 5. Oreb. Moses, "That Shepherd," received the Law on Mt. Horeb (Deuteronomy 4: 10) or its spur, Mt. Sinai (Exodus 19: 20). 6. chosen seed. The people of Israel. See Exodus 19-20. 7. In the Beginning. The opening words of both Genesis (Geneva) and John (Geneva). 8. out of Chaos. One of Milton's several heterodox positions. Orthodoxy held that God created everything ex nihilo, out of nothing (the "void" of Genesis 1:2; See Calvin's Commentary). Milton borrows the concept of chaos, or unformed matter, from Hesiod and Platonic philosophy (especially the Timaeus 53b). Milton was also a monist, holding that all things were created out of God; see book 5.468-490. 9. Sion. To the haunts of the classical muses near the Castalian spring on Mt. Parnassus, Milton prefers to claim Mt. Sion and its brooks Kidron and Siloa, a kind of biblically authorized Parnassus. 10. Siloa: a pool where Jesus healed a blind man (John, 9:7). 11. Adventurous Song. Note the similarities between Milton's opening and the opening lines of Virgil's Aeneid and of Homer's Odyssey. Milton wants not only to compare his project to the ancient epics, but also himself to those poets and his main character, Adam, to their

celebrated heroes. All of these comparisons raise interesting and complicated questions of authority, heroism, and nationalism in art. 12. Aonian Mount. Mt. Helicon, in Aonia, sacred to the classical muses. 13. Milton here justifies his use of blank verse as the medium for his poem. 14. Dove-like. The Holy Spirit appears as a dove in John 1: 32. See also Paradise Regained 1.30-1. 15. pregnant. Milton invites us to imagine the Holy Spirit copulating with the unformed matter of Chaos ("the vast Abyss"). In Milton's monism, distinctions between spirit and matter are not absolute. 16. The purpose of the entire poem.

CHAPTER IX: The King James Bible

(Macabre representation of the Tree of Knowledge and Death. Woodcut by Jost Amman, from Jacob Rueff's De conceptu et generatione hominis, printed by Peter Fabricus, Frankfurt, 1587.) King James Version, also called AUTHORIZED VERSION, English translation of the Bible published in 1611 under the auspices of James I of England. Of 54 scholars approved by James, 47 labored in six groups at three locations for seven years, utilizing previous English translations and texts in the original languages. The resulting translation had a marked influence on English style and was generally accepted as the standard English Bible for more than three centuries. (1994-1999 Encyclopædia Britannica, CD version.) Excerpt from the King James Bible, 1611, The Book of Genesis 1:1

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

1:2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep (1). And the Spirit (2) of God moved upon the face of the waters. 1:3

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

1:4 And God saw the light, that it was good (3): and God divided the light from the darkness. 1:5 And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day. 1:6 And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.

1:7 And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so. 1:8 And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day. 1:9 And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so. 1:10 And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good. 1:11 And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so. 1:12 And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good. 1:13

And the evening and the morning were the third day.

1:14 And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years: 1:15 And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth: and it was so. 1:16 And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also. 1:17

And God set them in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth,

1:18 And to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness: and God saw that it was good. 1:19

And the evening and the morning were the fourth day.

1:20 And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven. 1:21 And God created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that it was good. 1:22 And God blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl multiply in the earth. 1:23

And the evening and the morning were the fifth day.

1:24 And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his kind: and it was so.

1:25 And God made the beast of the earth after his kind, and cattle after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind: and God saw that it was good. 1:26 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. 1:27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. 1:28 And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. 1:29 And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat. 1:30 And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so. 1:31 And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day. 2:1

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.

2:2 And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. 2:3 And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made. 2:4 These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth when they were created, in the day that the LORD God made the earth and the heavens, 2:5 And every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field before it grew: for the LORD God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground. 2:6

But there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground.

2:7 And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul (4). 2:8 And the LORD God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. 2:9 And out of the ground made the LORD God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil (5).

2:10 And a river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became into four heads. 2:11 The name of the first is Pison: that is it which compasseth the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold; 2:12

And the gold of that land is good: there are pearls and the onyx stone.

2:13 And the name of the second river is Gihon: the same is it that compasseth the whole land of Ethiopia. 2:14 And the name of the third river is Hiddekel: that is it which goeth toward the east of Assyria. And the fourth river is Euphrates. 2:15 And the LORD God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it (6). 2:16 And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: 2:17 But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it (7): for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die. 2:18 And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him. 2:19 And out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. 2:20 And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him. 2:21 And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof; 2:22 And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man (8). 2:23 And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man. 2:24 Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. 2:25

And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.

Notes to Genesis 1. Deep = waters. 2. Spirit, here, is literally “breath”. 3. Here is expressed the essential optimism of Judaism and the Old Testament, in contrast to the pessimistic view of Jesus in the New Testament. 4. Two points to note: 1) that Adam is possessed of a soul, unlike any of God’s other creations, and 2) the name Adam, probably, is derived from a combination of the ancient Hebrew words “adam” (man) and “adamah” (ground). 5. The symbol of the two trees is one of the profoundest in the Bible. 6. Note that man is thus the servant of God. 7. The, later, eating of the Fruit of Knowledge will represent Original Sin. 8. Eve, literally, means “living”.

CHAPTER X: The Enlightenment

Isaac Newton During the years 1350 to 1800 the foundation of modern western culture is laid: with the Renaissance the entire culture is reconnected to its traditional Greco-Roman ideals (i.e., individualism and democracy); the Reformation's Protestant theology is an extension of this "westernization" to the sphere of religion (n.b., original or traditional Christianity is a near-eastern religion); the Reformation, which had begun as a strictly religious movement, gradually extends its emphasis of individual experience to all aspects of the culture; finally, with the Enlightenment, rational evaluation ( as opposed to superstition, traditional or religious belief), scientific development, and social toleration are added. In this lecture I will give an outline of the key elements of this last phase of the foundation. The Enlightenment is characterized by rational analysis and social toleration: the former finds its basis in science, the latter may be divided into ethical and economic sources. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------The great mind, some might say father, of the Enlightenment is Sir Isaac Newton (1642 1727); his publication in 1687 of Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica (The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy) is not only the key work of the period, but also the most important scientific treatise every written (the only other comparable scientific work being Euclid's Elements, c. 300 BC). The Philosophiae, in short, marks the onset of modern times.

As the physical, or outer world, had been analyzed by Sir Isaac mathematically, so John Locke (1632 - 1704) produces the first rational examination of the human mind in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690). Here we have, importantly, not only the beginning of modern philosophy, with its logical emphasis, but also the first work of modern psychology. Thus, Locke's Essay may be seen as the psychological counterpart of Newton's Philosophiae. The second aspect of the Enlightenment, social toleration, finds expression, primarily, in the French writers Rousseau and Voltaire, and the American activist Paine (it should be noted, however, that Locke also wrote on these subjects: his three Letters, concerning religious toleration, pub. 1689 - 1692, as well as his two Treatises, on government, pub. 1690, were all widely read and highly influential). If we were to make a full comparison of these three thinkers (i.e., Rousseau, Voltaire, and Paine), we would, very likely, find nearly as many points of contrast as of similarity; regarding their position on social toleration, however, I only wish to make the following general statement. Rousseau, Voltaire, and Paine all emphasize that as there is no scientific (meaning inductive) nor logical (meaning deductive) method to determine among the various belief systems (i.e., religious and social practices), that, in so far as these belief systems and social practices do not observably violate individual liberties or the public good, they should be tolerated - as this is the only rational response. Note well, what we have here is a rational argument in defense of, what might be called, an ethical position. This is, indeed, a social advancement. So much, then, for the reasons philosophers supported social toleration; we turn now to the basis of government and business support of the same. Here, I would argue, we have not an ethical basis, but, rather, simply an economic one. In short, the government and business powers of 18th century England realized the following three points: 1) industrialization is the trend of the future, 2) the only practical method to finance this development is massive international trade, and 3) this type of large-scale international exchange necessitates social toleration (i.e., things alone do not move in trade but ideas as well; you simply will be unable to accept the one and simultaneously restrict the other). Thus, in conclusion, we have the very interesting situation of two different groups (i.e., the philosophers, and the government and business people) both desiring the same result (i.e., social toleration), and both having rational reasons for doing so (i.e., philosophic, and the practical facts of international trade), although the sources of their reasons (i.e., ethical, and economic) are wholly different. Welcome to the modern world. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------There was very little pure literature (in the sense of Joyce's epiphany) produced during the Enlightenment times; the majority of the writing, as we have see, was scientific or philosophic in nature. The developments that do occur in literature can classed as follows: 1) the authors Defoe, Swift, and Fielding, 2) the rise of the newspaper-magazine essay, 3) neo-classicism, and 4) the emergence of Irish writers.

Defoe's two main works are Robinson Crusoe (1719), who represents a type of ideal of 18th century England (which, from the modern standpoint, has as many flaws as virtues), and Moll Flanders (1722), which is notable in that the protagonist is a female of lowly background. Both of these novels, while certainly fine productions of their type, are, first and foremost, popular writing (as opposed to literature), with, furthermore, an instructive or moral character. Here I could digress , but will not , and instead will merely offer the following suggestions. A comparison of Robinson Crusoe with (James Fenimore Cooper's) Natty Bumpo would, indeed, be an enlightening (!) study of "period cultural-heroes": the key difference between the two being that Bumpo has respect for non-Europeans (namely, the Native Americans), whereas Crusoe has all but none. The comparison of these characters is not only valid, but also profitable. To take now an invalid, though still profitable (how wonderful literature is!), comparison, let us place Moll Flanders beside (Hawthorne's) Hester Prynne. The contrast borders, to this writer at least, on the absurd: the depth of character and appreciation of moral complexities found in Hester are all but absent in the shallow, didactic figure of Moll. But, as I say, the comparison is wholly unfair: Defoe was a fine popular writer, whereas Hawthorne was a literary artist of genius. Swift's Gulliver's Travels is a classic of social satire (and, more generally, the human condition); his essay A Modest Proposal, which although of the same genre is far more caustic in tone, I would mark as probably the finest example of its type in all English writing. Swift is also the first of the great (modern) Irish writers (more below). Finally, Fielding must be recognized as producing, in his The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling (1749), the first modern novel in the English language. Fielding's acknowledged influences were Cervantes (whose Don Quixote de la Mancha, 1605, is the first modern novel in any European language), Swift, and the ancient Roman writer Lucian. Fielding abandons the epistolary-method popular at the time (most notably Richardson's Pamela, 1741), and sets out to write "comic epics in prose". Thus, Fielding's innovations set the stage for Dickens and Thackeray. In conclusion, Defoe, Swift, and Fielding are all didactic, and thus are representative of the spirit of their time. This idea that the function of the writer is to improve and instruct is, as we shall see, a neo-classical one (gone is Shakespeare's mirror!). Note this division of instruction: science in technical subjects, "literature" in morals. Further note, that Swift, although using satire, is overt in his intentions, whereas Defoe and Fielding, in this if nothing else, follow Shakespeare, in that, "the play's the thing"! A major form of writing to develop during this time is the newspaper-magazine essay. As I mentioned in a previous lecture, the modern essay was pioneered by the French writer Montaigne (Essais, 1580), its first English master being Bacon (Essays, 1597). During the period of the Enlightenment the journalists Addison and Steele, who were partners on several periodicals, move the essay into the mainstream of popular culture. In connection with the advancement of print technology, and the form of the essay, we also have the appearance of modern, here meaning written, political rhetoric. As the ancient Greek and Roman leaders sought to persuade their senates with oral brilliance, so now political parties seek to sway the public with convincing essays. Note well, however, the vast difference between proper rhetoric, which uses rational arguments, as opposed to

propaganda, which, at best, simply attempts to manipulate your emotions, or, at worst, consists of cleverly constructed lies. Neo-classicism is defined by "The Oxford Companion to English Literature" (1985), as follows: in literature, the habit of imitating the authors of antiquity (notably its poets and dramatists) as a matter of aesthetic principle; and the acceptance of the critical precepts which emerged to guide that imitation. What we have then, essentially, is 1) an imitation of the form and content of the ancient Greco-Roman writers, and 2) a system of rules to "guide that imitation". Classicism, as a whole, may be divided into two major stages: 1) the Renaissance (c. 1350 - 1550), and 2) Neo-classicism (c. 1700 - 1800). (I would mark 1550 - 1700 as a period of transition.) Now, the fundamental difference, and a big difference it is, between the humanism of the Renaissance and that of Neo-classical period is that the former began in imitation of the ancients but finally move past this into a full acceptance of the spirit of humanism (do you remember Dr. Johnson's criticism of Shakespeare? He says the Bard "seems to write without any moral purpose"); with the latter, they attempt to restrict humanism to their own critical interpretation of the ancients. Thus we see that here neo means not only new, in the sense of recent, but, additionally, carries the idea of "revision". Finally, it should be noted that it is at this time that Irish writers begin to make their impact on English literature and culture. By the present date, this influence has been considerable, and a complete list of Irish writers of importance would be lengthy. Here is a list of the major names only: Jonathan Swift, Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeats, G. B. Shaw, and James Joyce. The question which naturally arises here is: what were the factors behind this rapid development of Irish writers? Indeed, a difficult problem to tackle (we find something similar, about 100 years later, in the case of Russian writers), which various researchers have attempted to answer in various ways. None of these answers, to my knowledge, however, have been wholly convincing (in either the case of the Irish or the Russians!). The only (small) fact I would like to mention is that during the infamous Dark Ages it was only at the two extreme ends of western civilization - Ireland to the west, and the Byzantine Empire to the east - that the ancient classics escaped destruction. Thus, we have, at least, this longstanding background of literacy. Looking over Irish writing as a whole, I would take note of the extensive use of satire and irony in this tradition: the dark Swift, the paradoxical Wilde, and the myriad-minded Joyce are all fine examples. Erin go bragh. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Excerpts The Life And Adventures Of Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe Excerpt from Part 1 Introduction The general outline of the story of Robinson Crusoe (i.e., concerning the ship-wreck of the hero, his adventures on a tropical island, and eventual rescue) are by now well-known to

readers and film-goers throughout the world. Below is an excerpt from the first chapter of the book, where Crusoe explains the reasons he went to sea, and also of his family’s disapproval of this plan. Regarding Defoe’s English, there are three points to note. First, certain words in the text are capitalized which in modern English would normally remain lowercase; the purpose is, obviously, to put some emphasis on those words. This particular use of capitalization began sometime in the Middle Ages and would continue until about 1850. Second, take careful note not only of the spelling differences in some words, but also that some familiar looking words may have a different meaning than expected. Last, Defoe’s general style, as fitting his background and the upbringing of his protagonist (i.e., Crusoe) is middle class. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Bremen (1), who settled first at Hull: He got a good Estate by Merchandise, and leaving off his Trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my Mother, Relations were named Robinson, a very good Family at Country, and from whom I was called Robinson Keutznaer; but by the usual Corruption of Words in England, we are now called, nay we call our Selves, and writer Name Crusoe, and so my Companions always call'd me. I had two elder Brothers, one of which was Lieutenant Collonel to an English Regiment of Foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous Coll. Lockhart, and was killed at the Battle near Dunkirk against the Spaniards: What became of my second Brother I never knew any more than Father or Mother did know what was become of me. Being the third Son of the Family, and not bred to any Trade, my Head began to be fill'd very early with rambling Thoughts: My Father, who was very ancient, had given me competent Share of Learning, as far as House-Education, and a Country Free-School generally goes, and design'd for the Law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but go to Sea, and my inclination to this led me so strongly against the Will, nay the Commands of my Father, and against all the Entreaties and Perswasions of my Mother and other Friends, that there seem'd to be something fatal in Propension of Nature (2) tending directly to the Life of Misery which was to befal me. My Father, a wise and grave Man, gave me serious excellent Counsel against what he foresaw was my Design. He call'd me one Morning into his Chamber, where he confined by the Gout, and expostulated very warmly me upon this Subject: He ask'd me what Reasons more a meer wandring inclination I had for leaving my Father House and my native Country, where I might be well introduced, and had a Prospect of raising my Fortunes Application and Industry, with a Life of Ease and Pleasure. He told me it was for Men of desperate Fortunes on one Hand, or of aspiring, Superior Fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon Adventures, to rise by Enterprize, and make themselves famous in Undertakings of a Nature out of the common Road; that these things were all either too far above me, or too far below me; that mine was the middle State (3), or what might be called the upper Station of Low Life, which he had found by long Experience was the best State in the World, the most suited to human Happiness, not exposed to the Miseries and Hardships, the Labour and Sufferings of the mechanick (4) Part of Mankind, and not embarass'd with the Pride, Luxury, Ambition and Envy of the upper Part of Mankind. He told me, I might

100

judge of the Happiness of this State, by this one thing, viz. That this was the State of Life which all other People envied, that Kings have frequently lamented the miserable Consequences of being born to great things, and wish'd they had been placed in the Middle of the two Extremes, between Mean and the Great; that the wise Man gave his Testimony to this as the just Standard of true Felicity, when he pray to have neither Poverty or Riches. He bid me observe it, and I should always find, that the Calamitles of Life were shared among the upper and lower Part of Mankind; but that the middle Station had the fewest Disasters, and was not expos'd to so many Vicisitudes as the higher or lower Part of Mankind; nay, they were not subjected to so many Distempers and Uneasiness either of Body or Mind, as those were who, by vicious Living, Luxury and Extravagancies on one Hand, or by hard Labour, Want of Necessaries, and mean or insufficient Diet on the other Hand, bring Distempers upon themselves by the natural Consequences of their Way of Living; That the middle Station of Life was calculated for, all kind of Vertues and all kinds of Enjoyments; that Peace and Plenty were the Hand-maids of a middle Fortune; that Temperance, Moderation, Quietness, Health, Society, all agreeable Diversions, and all desirable Pleasures, were the Blessings attending the middle Station of Life; that this Way Men went silently and smoothly thro' the World, and comfortably out of it, not embarass'd with the Labours of the Hands or of the Head, not sold to the Life of Slavery for daily Bread, or harrast with perplex'd Circumstances, which rob the Soul of Peace, and the Body of Rest; not enrag'd with the Passion of Envy, or secret burning Lust of Ambition for great things; but in easy Circumstances sliding gently thro' the World, and sensibly tasting the Sweets of living, without the bitter, feeling that they are happy, and learning by every Day's Experience to know it more sensibly. After this, he press'd me earnestly, and in the most affectionate manner, not to play the young Man, not to precipitate my self into Miseries which Nature and the Station of Life I was born in, seem'd to have provided against; that I was under no Necessity of seeking my Bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly into the Station of Life which he had been just recommending to me; and that if I was not very easy and happy in the World, it must be my meer, Fate or Fault that must hinder it, and that he should have nothing to answer for, having thus discharg'd his Duty in warning me against Measures which he knew would be to my Hurt: In a word, that as he would do very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at Home as he directed, so he would not have so much Hand in my Misfortunes, as to give me any Encouragement to go away: And to close all, he told me I had my elder Brother for an Example, to whom he had used the same earnest Perswasions to keep him from going into the Low Country Wars, but could not prevail, his young Desires prompting him to run into the Army where he was kill'd; and tho' he said he would not cease to pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take this foolish Step, God would not bless me, and I would have Leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his Counsel when there might be none to assist in my Recovery. I observed in this last Part of his Discourse, which was truly Prophetick, tho' I suppose my Father did not know it to be so himself; I say, I observed the Tears run down his Face very plentifully, and especially when he spoke of my Brother who was kill'd; and that when he spoke of my having Leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so mov'd, that he broke off the Discourse, and told me, his Heart was so full he could say no more to me. I was sincerely affected with this Discourse, as indeed who could be otherwise? and I resolv'd not to think of going abroad any more, but to settle at home according to my Father's Desire. But alas! a few Days wore it all off; and in short, to prevent any of my

101

Father's farther Importunities, in a few Weeks after, I resolv'd to run quite away from him. However, I did not act so hastily neither as my first Heat of Resolution prompted, but I took my Mother, at a time when I thought her a little pleasanter than ordinary, and told her, that my Thoughts were so entirely bent upon seeing the World, that I should never settle to any thing with Resolution enough to go through with it, and my Father had better give me his Consent than force me to go without it; that I was now Eighteen Years old, which was too late to go Apprentice to a Trade, or Clerk to an Attorney; that I was sure if I did, I should never serve out my time, and I should certainly run away from my Master before my Time was out, and go to Sea; and if she would speak to my Father to let me go but one Voyage abroad, if I came home again and did not like it, I would go no more, and I would promise by a double Diligence to recover that Time I had lost. Notes to Robinson Crusoe 1. Bremen: a major city in northern Germany. 2. Natural inclination. 3. In short, the value of the middle class, according to the father, is stability. 4. Mechanick: working class. Excerpt 2 From The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling, by Henry Fielding The introduction to the work, or bill of fare to the feast (1). An author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary (2) treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their money. In the former case, it is well known that the entertainer provides what fare he pleases; and though this should be very indifferent, and utterly disagreeable to the taste of his company, they must not find any fault; nay, on the contrary, good breeding forces them outwardly to approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Now the contrary of this happens to the master of an ordinary. Men who pay for what they eat will insist on gratifying their palates, however nice and whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to their taste, will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to d--n their dinner without controul. To prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such disappointment, it hath been usual with the honest and well-meaning host to provide a bill of fare which all persons may peruse at their first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselves with the entertainment which they may expect, may either stay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to some other ordinary better accommodated to their taste. As we do not disdain to borrow wit or wisdom from any man who is capable of lending us either, we have condescended to take a hint from these honest victuallers (3), and shall prefix not only a general bill of fare to our whole entertainment, but shall likewise give the

102

reader particular bills to every course which is to be served up in this and the ensuing volumes. The provision, then, which we have here made is no other than Human Nature. Nor do I fear that my sensible reader, though most luxurious in his taste, will start, cavil (4), or be offended, because I have named but one article. The tortoise, well learned in eating, knows by much experience - besides the delicious calipash and calipee (5), contains many different kinds of food; nor can the learned reader be ignorant, that in human nature, though here collected under one general name, is such prodigious variety, that a cook will have sooner gone through all the several species of animal and vegetable food in the world, than an author will be able to exhaust so extensive a subject. An objection may perhaps be apprehended from the more delicate, that this dish is too common and vulgar; for what else is the subject of all the romances, novels, plays, and poems, with which the stalls abound? Many exquisite viands (6) might be rejected by the epicure (7), if it was a sufficient cause for his contemning of them as common and vulgar, that something was to be found in the most paltry alleys under the same name. In reality, true nature is as difficult to be me with in authors, as the Bayonne ham, or Bologna sausage, is to be found in the shops. But the whole, to continue the same metaphor, consists in the cookery of the author; for, as Mr. Pope (8) tells usTrue wit is nature to advantage drest; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well exprest. The same animal which hath the honour to have some part of his flesh eaten at the table of a duke, may perhaps be degraded in another part, and some of his limbs gibbeted (9), as it were, in the vilest stall in town. Where, then, lies the difference between the food of the nobleman and the porter, if both are at dinner on the same ox or calf, but in the seasoning, the dressing, the garnishing, and the setting forth? Hence the one provokes and incites the most languid appetite, and the other turns and palls that which is the sharpest and keenest. In like manner, the excellence of the mental entertainment consists less in the subject than in the author's skill in well dressing it up. How pleased, therefore, will the reader be to find that we have, in the following work, adhered closely to one of the highest principles of the best cook which the present age, or perhaps that of Heliogabalus (10), hath produced. This great man, as is well known to all lovers of polite eating, begins at first by setting plain things before his hungry guests, rising afterwards by degrees as their stomachs may be supposed to decrease, to the very quintessence of sauce and spices. In like manner, we shall represent human nature at first to the keen appetite of our reader, in that more plain and simple manner in which it is found in the country, and shall hereafter hash and ragoo (11) it with all the high French and Italian seasoning of affectation and vice which courts and cities afford. By these means, we doubt not but our reader may be rendered desirous to read on for ever, as the great person just above-mentioned is supposed to have made some persons eat. Having premised thus much, we will now detain those who like our bill of fare no longer from their diet, and shall proceed directly to serve up the first course of our history for their entertainment.

103

Note to Tom Jones 1. Throughout this introduction to Tom Jones Fielding uses the metaphor of the author as restaurant owner and the reader as patron: in short, the writer must “serve up” something pleasing if he hopes to stay in business. 2. Given as an act of charity. 3. Restaurant owners. 4. To find fault unnecessarily. 5. Calipash and calipee both refer to the edible gel found on the inside of a turtle’s shell. 6. A delectable item of food. 7. A person of refined taste in food and wine. 8. Alexander Pope, 1688 – 1744. The quotation is from his poem, “An Essay on Man”. The idea here expressed is that it is not so much what an author says, but rather how he says it. 9. Hung, as on display for sale. 10. Emperor of Rome (218-222). A priest of Baal, he became emperor after the murder of his cousin Caracalla (217). His eccentricity and debauchery and the imposition of his religion on the Romans led to an insurrection in which he was killed. 11. A famous pasta food of Italy.

Example 3 A Modest Proposal , by Jonathan Swift (complete). A Modest Proposal for preventing the children of poor people in Ireland, from being a burden on their parents or country, and for making them beneficial to the publick. It is a melancholy object (1) to those, who walk through this great town (2), or travel in the country, when they see the streets, the roads and cabin-doors crowded with beggars of the female sex, followed by three, four, or six children (3), all in rags, and importuning every passenger for an alms. These mothers instead of being able to work for their honest livelihood, are forced to employ all their time in strolling to beg sustenance for their helpless infants who, as they grow up, either turn thieves for want of work, or leave their dear native country, to fight for the Pretender in Spain (4), or sell themselves to the Barbados (5).

104

I think it is agreed by all parties, that this prodigious number of children in the arms, or on the backs, or at the heels of their mothers, and frequently of their fathers, is in the present deplorable state of the kingdom (6), a very great additional grievance; and therefore whoever could find out a fair, cheap and easy method of making these children sound and useful members of the common-wealth, would deserve so well of the publick, as to have his statue set up for a preserver of the nation. But my intention is very far from being confined to provide only for the children of professed beggars: it is of a much greater extent, and shall take in the whole number of infants at a certain age, who are born of parents in effect as little able to support them, as those who demand our charity in the streets. As to my own part, having turned my thoughts for many years, upon this important subject, and maturely weighed the several schemes of our projectors, I have always found them grossly mistaken in their computation. It is true, a child just dropt from its dam, may be supported by her milk, for a solar year, with little other nourishment: at most not above the value of two shillings, which the mother may certainly get, or the value in scraps, by her lawful occupation of begging (7); and it is exactly at one year old that I propose to provide for them in such a manner, as, instead of being a charge upon their parents, or the parish, or wanting food and raiment for the rest of their lives, they shall, on the contrary, contribute to the feeding, and partly to the clothing of many thousands (8). There is likewise another great advantage in my scheme, that it will prevent those voluntary abortions, and that horrid practice of women murdering their bastard children, alas! too frequent among us, sacrificing the poor innocent babes, I doubt, more to avoid the expense than the shame, which would move tears and pity in the most savage and inhuman breast. The number of souls in this kingdom being usually reckoned one million and a half, of these I calculate there may be about two hundred thousand couple whose wives are breeders (9); from which number I subtract thirty thousand couple, who are able to maintain their own children, (although I apprehend there cannot be so many, under the present distresses of the kingdom) but this being granted, there will remain an hundred and seventy thousand breeders. I again subtract fifty thousand, for those women who miscarry, or whose children die by accident or disease within the year. There only remain an hundred and twenty thousand children of poor parents annually born. The question therefore is, How this number shall be reared, and provided for? which, as I have already said, under the present situation of affairs, is utterly impossible by all the methods hitherto proposed. For we can neither employ them in handicraft or agriculture; we neither build houses, (I mean in the country) nor cultivate land: they can very seldom pick up a livelihood by stealing (10) till they arrive at six years old; except where they are of towardly parts (11), although I confess they learn the rudiments much earlier; during which time they can however be properly looked upon only as probationers (12): As I have been informed by a principal gentleman in the county of Cavan, who protested to me, that he never knew above one or two instances under the age of six, even in a part of the kingdom so renowned for the quickest proficiency in that art (13). I am assured by our merchants, that a boy or a girl before twelve years old, is no saleable commodity, and even when they come to this age, they will not yield above three pounds, or three pounds and half a crown at most, on the exchange; which cannot turn to account either to the parents or kingdom, the charge of nutriments and rags having been at least four times that value.

105

I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection. I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London, that a young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricasie, or a ragoust (14). I do therefore humbly offer it to publick consideration, that of the hundred and twenty thousand children, already computed, twenty thousand may be reserved for breed, whereof only one fourth part to be males; which is more than we allow to sheep, black cattle, or swine, and my reason is, that these children are seldom the fruits of marriage, a circumstance not much regarded by our savages, therefore, one male will be sufficient to serve four females. That the remaining hundred thousand may, at a year old, be offered in sale to the persons of quality and fortune, through the kingdom, always advising the mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month, so as to render them plump, and fat for a good table. A child will make two dishes at an entertainment for friends, and when the family dines alone, the fore or hind quarter will make a reasonable dish, and seasoned with a little pepper or salt, will be very good boiled on the fourth day, especially in winter. I have reckoned upon a medium, that a child just born will weigh 12 pounds, and in a solar year, if tolerably nursed, encreaseth to 28 pounds. I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore very proper for landlords, who, as they have already devoured most of the parents, seem to have the best title to the children. Infant's flesh will be in season throughout the year, but more plentiful in March, and a little before and after; for we are told by a grave author (15), an eminent French physician, that fish being a prolifick diet, there are more children born in Roman Catholick countries about nine months after Lent (16), the markets will be more glutted than usual, because the number of Popish infants, is at least three to one in this kingdom, and therefore it will have one other collateral advantage, by lessening the number of Papists (17) among us. I have already computed the charge of nursing a beggar's child (in which list I reckon all cottagers, labourers, and four-fifths of the farmers) to be about two shillings per annum, rags included; and I believe no gentleman would repine to give ten shillings for the carcass of a good fat child, which, as I have said, will make four dishes of excellent nutritive meat, when he hath only some particular friend, or his own family to dine with him. Thus the squire will learn to be a good landlord, and grow popular among his tenants, the mother will have eight shillings neat profit, and be fit for work till she produces another child. Those who are more thrifty (as I must confess the times require) may flea the carcass; the skin of which, artificially dressed, will make admirable gloves for ladies, and summer boots for fine gentlemen. As to our City of Dublin, shambles (18) may be appointed for this purpose, in the most convenient parts of it, and butchers we may be assured will not be wanting; although I rather recommend buying the children alive, and dressing them hot from the knife, as we do roasting pigs.

106

A very worthy person, a true lover of his country, and whose virtues I highly esteem, was lately pleased, in discoursing on this matter, to offer a refinement upon my scheme. He said, that many gentlemen of this kingdom, having of late destroyed their deer, he conceived that the want of venison might be well supply'd by the bodies of young lads and maidens, not exceeding fourteen years of age, nor under twelve; so great a number of both sexes in every country being now ready to starve for want of work and service: And these to be disposed of by their parents if alive, or otherwise by their nearest relations. But with due deference to so excellent a friend, and so deserving a patriot, I cannot be altogether in his sentiments; for as to the males, my American acquaintance assured me from frequent experience, that their flesh was generally tough and lean, like that of our school-boys, by continual exercise, and their taste disagreeable, and to fatten them would not answer the charge. Then as to the females, it would, I think, with humble submission, be a loss to the publick, because they soon would become breeders themselves: And besides, it is not improbable that some scrupulous people might be apt to censure such a practice, (although indeed very unjustly) as a little bordering upon cruelty, which, I confess, hath always been with me the strongest objection against any project, how well soever intended. But in order to justify my friend, he confessed, that this expedient was put into his head by the famous Salmanaazor (19), a native of the island Formosa, who came from thence to London, above twenty years ago, and in conversation told my friend, that in his country, when any young person happened to be put to death, the executioner sold the carcass to persons of quality, as a prime dainty; and that, in his time, the body of a plump girl of fifteen, who was crucified for an attempt to poison the Emperor, was sold to his imperial majesty's prime minister of state, and other great mandarins of the court in joints from the gibbet, at four hundred crowns. Neither indeed can I deny, that if the same use were made of several plump young girls in this town, who without one single groat (20) to their fortunes, cannot stir abroad without a chair (21), and appear at a play-house and assemblies in foreign fineries which they never will pay for; the kingdom would not be the worse. Some persons of a desponding spirit are in great concern about that vast number of poor people, who are aged, diseased, or maimed; and I have been desired to employ my thoughts what course may be taken, to ease the nation of so grievous an incumbrance. But I am not in the least pain upon that matter, because it is very well known, that they are every day dying, and rotting, by cold and famine, and filth, and vermin, as fast as can be reasonably expected. And as to the young labourers, they are now in almost as hopeful a condition (22). They cannot get work, and consequently pine away from want of nourishment, to a degree, that if at any time they are accidentally hired to common labour, they have not strength to perform it, and thus the country and themselves are happily delivered from the evils to come. I have too long digressed, and therefore shall return to my subject. I think the advantages by the proposal which I have made are obvious and many, as well as of the highest importance. For first, as I have already observed, it would greatly lessen the number of Papists, with whom we are yearly over-run, being the principal breeders of the nation, as well as our most dangerous enemies, and who stay at home on purpose with a design to deliver the kingdom to the Pretender, hoping to take their advantage by the absence of so many good Protestants, who have chosen rather to leave their country, than stay at home and pay tithes (23) against their conscience to an episcopal curate (24).

107

Secondly, The poorer tenants will have something valuable of their own, which by law may be made liable to a distress (25), and help to pay their landlord's rent, their corn and cattle being already seized, and money a thing unknown. Thirdly, Whereas the maintenance of an hundred thousand children, from two years old, and upwards, cannot be computed at less than ten shillings a piece per annum, the nation's stock will be thereby increased fifty thousand pounds per annum, besides the profit of a new dish, introduced to the tables of all gentlemen of fortune in the kingdom, who have any refinement in taste. And the money will circulate among our selves, the goods being entirely of our own growth and manufacture. Fourthly, The constant breeders, besides the gain of eight shillings sterling per annum by the sale of their children, will be rid of the charge of maintaining them after the first year. Fifthly, This food would likewise bring great custom to taverns, where the vintners will certainly be so prudent as to procure the best receipts for dressing it to perfection; and consequently have their houses frequented by all the fine gentlemen, who justly value themselves upon their knowledge in good eating; and a skilful cook, who understands how to oblige his guests, will contrive to make it as expensive as they please. Sixthly, This would be a great inducement to marriage, which all wise nations have either encouraged by rewards, or enforced by laws and penalties. It would encrease the care and tenderness of mothers towards their children, when they were sure of a settlement for life to the poor babes, provided in some sort by the publick, to their annual profit instead of expence. We should soon see an honest emulation among the married women, which of them could bring the fattest child to the market. Men would become as fond of their wives, during the time of their pregnancy, as they are now of their mares in foal, their cows in calf, or sow when they are ready to farrow; nor offer to beat or kick them (as is too frequent a practice) for fear of a miscarriage. Many other advantages might be enumerated. For instance, the addition of some thousand carcasses in our exportation of barrel'd beef: the propagation of swine's flesh, and improvement in the art of making good bacon, so much wanted among us by the great destruction of pigs, too frequent at our tables; which are no way comparable in taste or magnificence to a well grown, fat yearly child, which roasted whole will make a considerable figure at a Lord Mayor's feast, or any other publick entertainment. But this, and many others, I omit, being studious of brevity. Supposing that one thousand families in this city, would be constant customers for infants flesh, besides others who might have it at merry meetings, particularly at weddings and christenings, I compute that Dublin would take off annually about twenty thousand carcasses; and the rest of the kingdom (where probably they will be sold somewhat cheaper) the remaining eight thousand I can think of no one objection, that will possibly be raised against this proposal, unless it should be urged, that the number of people will be thereby much lessened in the kingdom. This I freely own, and 'twas indeed one principal design in offering it to the world. I desire the reader will observe, that I calculate my remedy for this one individual Kingdom of Ireland, and for no other that ever was, is, or, I think, ever can be upon Earth. Therefore let no man talk to me of other expedients: Of taxing our absentees at five shillings a pound: Of using neither cloaths, nor houshold furniture, except what is of our own growth and manufacture: Of utterly rejecting the materials and instruments that

108

promote foreign luxury: Of curing the expensiveness of pride, vanity, idleness, and gaming in our women: Of introducing a vein of parsimony, prudence and temperance: Of learning to love our country, wherein we differ even from Laplanders (26), and the inhabitants of Topinamboo (27) : Of quitting our animosities and factions, nor acting any longer like the Jews (28), who were murdering one another at the very moment their city was taken: Of being a little cautious not to sell our country and consciences for nothing: Of teaching landlords to have at least one degree of mercy towards their tenants. Lastly, of putting a spirit of honesty, industry, and skill into our shop-keepers, who, if a resolution could now be taken to buy only our native goods, would immediately unite to cheat and exact upon us in the price, the measure, and the goodness, nor could ever yet be brought to make one fair proposal of just dealing, though often and earnestly invited to it. Therefore I repeat, let no man talk to me of these and the like expedients, 'till he hath at least some glympse of hope, that there will ever be some hearty and sincere attempt to put them into practice (29). But, as to my self, having been wearied out for many years with offering vain, idle, visionary thoughts, and at length utterly despairing of success, I fortunately fell upon this proposal, which, as it is wholly new, so it hath something solid and real, of no expence and little trouble, full in our own power, and whereby we can incur no danger in disobliging England. For this kind of commodity will not bear exportation, and flesh being of too tender a consistence, to admit a long continuance in salt, although perhaps I could name a country, which would be glad to eat up our whole nation without it (30). After all, I am not so violently bent upon my own opinion, as to reject any offer, proposed by wise men, which shall be found equally innocent, cheap, easy, and effectual. But before something of that kind shall be advanced in contradiction to my scheme, and offering a better, I desire the author or authors will be pleased maturely to consider two points. First, As things now stand, how they will be able to find food and raiment for a hundred thousand useless mouths and backs. And secondly, There being a round million of creatures in humane figure throughout this kingdom, whose whole subsistence put into a common stock, would leave them in debt two million of pounds sterling, adding those who are beggars by profession, to the bulk of farmers, cottagers and labourers, with their wives and children, who are beggars in effect; I desire those politicians who dislike my overture, and may perhaps be so bold to attempt an answer, that they will first ask the parents of these mortals, whether they would not at this day think it a great happiness to have been sold for food at a year old, in the manner I prescribe, and thereby have avoided such a perpetual scene of misfortunes, as they have since gone through, by the oppression of landlords, the impossibility of paying rent without money or trade, the want of common sustenance, with neither house nor cloaths to cover them from the inclemencies of the weather, and the most inevitable prospect of intailing the like, or greater miseries, upon their breed for ever. I profess, in the sincerity of my heart, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavouring to promote this necessary work, having no other motive than the publick good of my country, by advancing our trade, providing for infants, relieving the poor, and giving some pleasure to the rich. I have no children, by which I can propose to get a single penny; the youngest being nine years old, and my wife past child-bearing. The End.

109

Notes to A Modest Proposal 1. Depressing sight. 2. Dublin. 3. There are two points to note here: 1) in giving, what appear to be, precise numbers, Swift is mimicking the scientific writing of the Enlightenment, but, 2) notice that the numbers given (i.e., three, four, and six) have a certain illogicality about them (i.e., five is oddly omitted for no good reason). Thus, here at the very beginning, we have a subtle indication that the essay will be parodic ~ soon, however, parody turns to satire, and black satire, indeed. 4. James Edward, THE OLD PRETENDER, in full JAMES FRANCIS EDWARD STUART (b. June 10, 1688, London, Eng.--d. Jan. 1, 1766, Rome, Papal States [Italy]), son of the deposed Roman Catholic monarch James II of England and claimant to the English and Scottish thrones. Styled James III of England and James VIII of Scotland by his supporters, he made several halfhearted efforts to gain his crown. (Copyright 1994-1999 Encyclopædia Britannica.) 5. An island in the West Indies controlled by Britain. Many poor English and Irish immigrated there as indentured workers. 6. Ireland. 7. Note the black satire here - begging is certainly no occupation, and may actually have been illegal! 8. A perfect imitation of the social-scientific writing of Swift's time. In a moment, however, the reader will be shocked by the contrast between the reasonable tone of the writing and the horror of the actual proposal. 9. Refers to animals used for reproduction - again, note the black satire. 10. Again, stealing is no "livelihood" ! 11. Promising ability. 12. On probation: apprentices. 13. Stealing. 14. Roasting or stewing. 15. Francois Rabelais (c. 1494 - 1533), French writer noted for his wild and cutting satire. 16. Period of 40 days from Ash Wednesday to Easter; a time of fasting (one meal per day with no meat) for many Christians. 17. Catholics (from "Papal", the adjectival form of Pope). 18. Slaughterhouses. 19. George Psalmanazar (1679 - 1763), a French writer who pretended to be from Formosa and wrote an (imagined) account of that area; the work was a hoax, and Swift knew it. 20. An English silver coin (of those times), worth four pence. 21. Sedan-chair 22. Ironically implying that the condition of the young laborers is almost as bad as that of the aged ones. 23. One-tenth annual tax on produce. 24. A clergyman appointed by a bishop. 25. Distraint: seizure of goods by law for non-payment of debt. 26. Region of Scandinavia. 27. An area of Brazil. 28. Referring to the internal strife among the Jewish people when the Roman emperor Titus destroyed Jerusalem in 70 AD 29. The main point of the entire essay. 30. England.

110

Chapter XI: Romanticism

Portrait of Byron, by Richard Westall, 1813. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Romanticism began as an artistic reaction against the rational emphasis of the Enlightenment; from this limited beginning, Romanticism will spread, finally affecting all aspects of western culture. Although the entire period is but 70 years (i.e., c. 1770 - 1850), the artistic, and particularly literary , output is tremendous. We may, for our purposes, divide Romanticism into four, overlapping, divisions: German, European , American, and English. Introduction In the case of the Renaissance, the area of origin and the area of the central productions of the period are the same: Italy. When, however, we come to Romanticism, a different situation ensues: the start of the movement is found in one country (Germany), whereas the most notable productions (English Romantic poetry) are found in another. In fact, the fame of the English Romantic poets has so overshadowed the rest of the Romantic movement (which is considerable), that, for many people, Romanticism means little more than 19th century English poetry. This is, however, far from the case: as stated, the Romantic movement, which began in Germany, spread all across Europe and the U.S., producing a bewildering variety of splendid works. As I've tried to emphasize in previous lectures, background is an essential element in understanding the thought and literature of any period; so here, again, we need at least some familiarity with the social context in order to more fully appreciate what we are dealing with. With this in mind, then, I present the following notes on the German Romantics, proceed to a brief glance at the European and American developments, and finish with an outline of the English Romantics themselves. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

111

The German Romantics The primary source of inspiration for the German Romantics in their rebellion against Enlightenment values was Rousseau. The French philosopher's emphasis on the individual (as opposed to, what would come to be called, utilitarianism), and emotional expression (as opposed to analytical reasoning) found ready acceptance with a certain group of German artists who were dissatisfied with the mechanistic and didactic character of Enlightenment social and aesthetic theories. The notable productions of the Sturm und Drang ("Storm and Stress", as this period of German Romanticism later came to be labeled) movement fall mostly between 1770 - 1790, although German work in this style will continue right up till the end of the Romanticism (c. 1850). Three of the key writers are 1) Johann Goethe (1749 - 1832), whose "The Sorrows of Young Werther" (1774) is a classic of its type (it should be noted that soon after this Goethe abandoned Romanticism in favor of his own brand of classicism), 2) Johann Schiller (1759 1805), author of the widely popular drama "The Robbers" (1791), and 3) the poet Heinrich Heine (1796 - 1856), who, incidentally, called himself "the last Romantic". European and American Developments With Germany then as the center, Romanticism spread out all across Europe and even to the U.S. We do not have the time, quite unfortunately, to give anything like a proper survey of the many outstanding works produced in this multitude of countries; what follows is the barest of possible outlines. France Francois-Rene Chateaubriand Genius of Christianity (novel) 1802 George Sand Indiana (novel) 1832 Victor Hugo Les Miserables (novel) 1862 Italy Alessandro Manzoni The Betrothed (novel) 1827 Giacomo Leopardi (various poetic works) Russia Mikhail Lermontov A Hero of Our Time (novel) 1840 Aleksander Pushkin ( various poetic works)

112

U.S. Edgar Allan Poe The Fall of the House of Usher (short story) 1840 Nathaniel Hawthorne The Scarlet Letter (novel) 1850 Herman Melville Moby Dick (novel) 1851

English Romanticism Between the Germans, the rest of Europe, and the Americans, all the major forms of literature (i.e., poetry, short story, novel, and drama) find expression in the Romantic form (and I have omitted any discussion of the architectural, painting, and musical developments!). When, however, we turn our attention to English Romanticism we immediately notice that by far the majority of works are poetic; the single exception being the novels of Sir Walter Scott (who also wrote poetry). Thus, while far more extensive in influence, English Romanticism is far more restrictive in scope. Literary histories generally, and conveniently, date the start of English Romanticism with the publication of "Lyrical Ballads" (1798), and close the chapter with the death of Sir Walter Scott (1832). The actual situation, however, rather inconveniently, begins slowly with the work and influence of Blake and Burns, peaks during the "official period", then lingers on till about 1850. There has been some confusion in the attempt to classify the English Romantics (why do I imagine they would find this funny?). First, and most generally, while there are indeed certain underlying similarities (namely, I would say, the influence of the German Romantics and Rousseau), the variety of shapes these similarities take is surprisingly diverse. Second, there is the long-standing Lake School fallacy (nothing of the sort, as De Quincey himself tells us, ever existed). While not pronouncing it as final, in my experience, the following basic classification is, on the one hand, generally acceptable to scholars, and, on the other, still serviceable to students. For each of the poets I have appended the title of a short representative work. I. The Pre-Romantics William Blake (1757 - 1827) The Tiger Robert Burns (1759 - 1796) A Red, Red, Rose

II. First Generation Romantics William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850) Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey

113

Walter Scott (1771 - 1832) Samuel T. Coleridge (1772 - 1834) Kubla Khan III. Second Generation Romantics George G. Byron (1788 - 1824) She Walks in Beauty Percy B. Shelley (1792 - 1822) Ode to the West Wind John Keats (1795 - 1821) Ode to a Nightingale Concluding Remarks With Romanticism we have the first truly international artistic-social movement. Regarding English literature, "Lyrical Ballads", jointly authored by Wordsworth and Coleridge, is the key work of the period; the preface of this book, by Wordsworth, is also valuable as a concise statement of English Romantic ideals. Further, it should be noted that the American writers Emerson and Thoreau are closely connected to Wordsworth in their worship of Nature. Coleridge's main poem is "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"; Shelley's "Don Juan". Lastly, from 1800 forward we begin to have translations of the ancient Oriental classics (namely, Daoist, Buddhist, and Hindu works) in the various European vernaculars (circa 1700 we see the same but in Latin): the effects of these works on western culture, the beginning of which is through the Romantics, has been, and continues to be, considerable. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Examples of English Romantic poetry Example 1. The Tiger, by William Blake Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forest of the night (1), What immortal hand or eye Could Frame thy fearful symmetry (2)? In what distant deeps or skies (3) Burnt the fire of thine eyes (4)? On what wings dare he aspire (5)? What the hand dare seize the fire (6)?

114

And what shoulder and what art (7) Could twist the sinews of thy heart (8)? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread (9) hand and what dread feet (10)? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain (11)? What the anvil? what dread grasp (12) Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears (13), Did he smile his work to see (14)? Did he who made the Lamb (15) make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare (16) frame thy fearful symmetry? Notes to The Tiger The focus of the poem is wonder at the terror, especially, and the beauty of creation. Throughout the work, despite several references to Christianity, the poet remains uncommitted as to whether the Creator is God or Nature. Regarding form, there are six quatrains, each being rhymed aabb; the first and last stanzas are, respectively, the introduction and the refrain, with 2 – 5 being the body. The questions, throughout, are rhetorical. 1. Note the generality of the phrase “forest of the night” – this indicates that the poet is not speaking of this or that particular tiger, but rather tigers in general (one might even say the Platonic Idea of the animal). When, further, the Tiger is understood as a symbol of the terror and beauty of all creation, we have caught the poet’s conception.

115

2. Immortal means eternal; hand, here, refers to an impersonal process of creation (i.e., Nature), whereas “eye” gives us the idea of consciousness, and thus intentional creation. Next, note well that the Tiger is addressed as “thy”, indicating the poet’s respect. 3. “Deeps” connotes waters, as in the King James Bible, Genesis 1:2. Note further the contrast in deeps – skies (i.e., high – low): this simultaneously continues the oppositional-pair Nature – God, and, by using the plural forms, invokes the idea of infinity. 4. Fire, here, means something like “the essence of a thing” (this fine metaphor finding its first usage in Western thought in the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus, c. 500 B C). The poet’s question may thus be paraphrased: Where does the essence of this creature come from? 5. “He” refers to the creator of the Tiger; “wings” may be interpreted as purpose. Thus, “What was the intent of this creation?” Further, “wings” continues the contrast of Nature – God in that the literal reference is to the mechanical, impersonal method by which a bird flies, but also alludes to the Holy Ghost, which is often symbolized as a dove (confer the King James Bible, and Paradise Lost). 6. “What the hand” = who or what; “seize the fire” = create. Thus, “Who or what would be so bold as to create this?” 7. “Shoulder” = strength; “art” = skill. The creator, therefore, whether Nature or God, is infinitely powerful and skillful. 8. A play on words: the line means not only the impressive physical construction of the Tiger, but also the framing of its fierce spirit. 9. “Dread” = fearful. 10. Lines 11 and 12 are complex; the basic idea, however, is as follows: After the Tiger has been created (i.e., And when thy heart began to beat) imagine the fearful power (i.e., dread hand) required to now control this creation (i.e., dread feet). Additionally, we have the insightful implication that Nature or God is not only capable of marvelous creation, but further can control what is created. By contrast, humanity, while occasionally capable of modest creative efforts, often proves itself wholly incapable of managing those creations. 11. Hammer, chain, furnace, and anvil are the metaphorical tools of creation. Thus, Nature or God as blacksmith. 12. Note the pun in “grasp”, meaning both “grip” and “understand”. 13. Lines 17 and 18 are the most difficult of the entire poem, and have been interpreted in various ways. The central image of the body of the poem, however, is that of “Creator as Blacksmith”. Now, when a normal blacksmith works, sparks fly off the anvil; here the poet tell us that when Nature or God creates, stars fly from the work, and further, that these stars throw down light, or fire, (i.e., spears) and water (i.e., tears). Fire and water may be understood as symbolic of the most basic or elemental of all oppositional pairs (as in the Daoist Yin-Yang). Thus, I would, tentatively, paraphrase lines 17 –18, “

116

As a result of Creation, all opposites come into being”. If this interpretation be correct, Blake is here echoing an age-old doctrine which finds its roots in Eastern mysticism. 14. A subtle allusion to the Bible: in Genesis, God creates and then sees “… that it was good”. 15. Here the veiled reference of the previous line is made explicit: Lamb refers to Jesus. Note now the oppositional pairs Blake has built up: creator – created; Nature – God; low – high; fire – water; Tiger – Lamb. In this last line of the body of the poem, there is a hint that some things may not be the work of God at all, but of Satan (thus setting the final opposition). 16. Note well the variation from the first stanza: “could” is replaced by “dare”. The first implies wonder at the power and skill of the Creator; the second expresses awe at the Creator’s boldness.

Example 2. A Red, Red Rose, by Robert Burns O my Luve's like a red, red rose (1), That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie lass (2), So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry (3). Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; And I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run (4). And fare-thee-weel (5), my only Luve! And fare-thee-weel, a while!

117

And I will come again, my Luve, Tho'(6) 'twere ten thousand mile! Notes to A Red, Red Rose The poem is written, as are most of Burns’ works, in the Scottish dialect; the four quatrains are, essentially, of the ballad form. Thus, by use of dialect and simple structure Burns evokes a rural quality. The two themes of the work are: 1) an expression of sincere love, and 2) a promise to return to his “bonie lass”. Note that the slightly disconnected series of images (i.e., rose-June-melodie; seas-rocks-sands; 10,000 miles) in no way detracts from the beauty of the poem – one does not expect a rustic ballad to be absolutely consistent in image. 1. 2. 3. 4.

The classic example, often cited in various textbooks, of the metaphor. Bonie lass = pretty girl. Till a’ the seas gang dry = till all the seas go dry. Sands, here, refers directly to the sands in an hourglass (i.e., the passage of time);but also serves to continue to sea image. 5. Fare thee weel = fare thee well (i.e., farewell to you). 6. Tho’ = though.

Example 3. LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798 (Wordsworth) FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur (1).--Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion (2); and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky (3). The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts(4), Which at this season, with their unripe fruits(5), Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! With some uncertain notice(6), as might seem Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire

118

The Hermit sits alone. These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind(7), With tranquil restoration:--feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on,-Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things(8). If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft-In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable(9), and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart-How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan(10) Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity, The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope, Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills; when like a roe I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led: more like a man

119

Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all (11).--I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.--That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompence. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man; A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought (12), And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognise In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being. Nor perchance (13), If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay (14): For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once,

120

My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she (15)can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain-winds be free To blow against thee: and, in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance-If I should be (16) where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence--wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love (17)--oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake! Notes to Tintern Abbey In 1788 Wordsworth, then 18, made his first visit through Tintern Abbey (near Bristol), on a walking tour; the remote area’s scenic beauty made a deep impression on him. Five years later, this time accompanied by his sister Dorothy, (1771 – 1855), Tintern Abbey was again visited. As the pair strolled, Wordsworth began to compose, vocally, a poem – Dorothy, notebook and pencil quickly to hand, began to copy it down. The work was published later that same year as the concluding poem of “Lyrical Ballads”.

121

Three basic themes are expressed in the work: 1) that Nature has the ability to refresh the human mind and body, 2) that contemplation of Nature will lead to a deeper experience of life, and 3) that Nature is appreciated in different ways at different stages of one’s life. The form of the poem is blank verse (in five stanzas); the tone, which is elevated and classical, has been compared to that of an ode. This style is thus something of a contrast to the other poems of Lyrical Ballads, most of which are rhymed, use relatively simple syntax, and deal with concrete (i.e., everyday) topics. 1. Contrasting the soft sound of inland springs and brooks with the heavy crashing of the ocean’s waves. 2. The cliffs of the wild scene bring to one’s mind (i.e., impress) thoughts of deeper secrets (i.e., seclusion). 3. A play on words: figuratively, the cliffs connect the Earth to the sky; symbolically, the connection of all Nature reminds the poet of his connection to nature. 4. Hillock. 5. This image of unripe fruit covered (i.e., lost) in greenery will be worth remembering as Wordsworth uses this not only as a general symbol for the young person’s relationship to Nature, but also, we see by the end of the poem, that it applies in the present case to his sister. 6. Uncertain: the source, or location, of which is uncertain. 7. Purer mind: the deepest, most natural part of the mind. Note Wordsworth’s careful diction: he wishes to make explicit, as did Plato, that contemplation is a function of the soul. 8. By Nature’s “power of harmony” we come to a deeper experience of life; this section is directly connected to lines 6 – 8. 9. An allusion to Hamlet (1:2, 134). 10. Sylvan: wooded. 11. Meaning, when he was a child he enjoyed Nature in a simple, physical way. 12. From this point to the bottom of the stanza is likely in reference to the German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724 – 1804). 13. This last stanza expresses Wordsworth’s wishes for his sister. 14. Meaning, if, by chance, I had not come to a second stage of appreciation of Nature (i.e., reflection on it), after having lost my simple childhood delight (simply as a result of growing up), watching you, my younger sister, today here at Tintern, who still has that youthful pleasure, I would feel even more sorrow. 15. She = Nature. 16. Dead. 17. This is an unmarked, and rhetorical, question.

Example 4. Ode to the West Wind (Shelley) O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead (1) Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red (2), Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou Who chariotest (3) to their dark wintry bed

122

The winged seeds (4), where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion (5) o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere Destroyer and Preserver hear, O hear! (6) Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning!(7) they are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad (8), ev'n from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge (9) Of the dying year, to which this closing (10) night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre (11), Vaulted with all thy congregated (12) might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: O hear! Thou who didst waken from his summer-dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he (13) lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a Pumice isle (14) in Baiae's bay (15), And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers (16) Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear And tremble and despoil (17) themselves: O hear! If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! if even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seemed a vision, I would ne'er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. O lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! (18) I bleed!

123

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee tameless, and swift, and proud. Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth; And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? Notes to Ode To The West Wind There are several points to note regarding the form of this poem. First, an ode is a classical style of verse most often expressing praise of something; here, Shelley praises the West Wind, specifically, its ability to sweep away the old and dead, and prepare the way for the new. Next, the five stanzas of the work are written in terza rima, with a meter, basically, of iambic pentameter. The rhyming pattern of terza rima is aba, bcb, cdc, ded, ee; this form finds its greatest employment in “The Divine Comedy” by Dante (c. 1310). This form, along with the refrain of “Oh, hear”, repeated in stanzas 1 – 3, gives the poem a quality of breathless forward movement. The overall effect, emphasized by the concluding couplet, is one of hope and expectancy. The thematic structure of the five stanzas is easily discernable. The first three describe and praise the destructive and regenerative powers of the West Wind; the wind moves through all areas of existence (i.e., land, sea, and air). In the fourth stanza Shelley writes that he wishes he were one of the natural objects that is effected by the restoration of the West Wind. In the final stanza the poet appeals to the West Wind not only for his own rejuvenation, but also for that of all the world. 1. Leaves dead = dead leaves. The inversion serves to emphasize the adjective. 2. Some commentators have suggested that here Shelley not only denotes the various colors of the dying leaves, but also all the races of humanity. 3. The noun “chariot” is changed into its (medieval) verb form by the suffix –est. 4. The seeds are described as “winged” in that they “flew” to the Earth on the West Wind. 5. Clarion: literally, a shrill sounding war trumpet; more generally, a clear, rousing sound. 6. The first of the three refrains. This first refrain also serves the function of invocation (see Milton lecture). 7. “Angels of rain and lightning” refers to the “loose clouds” of the previous stanza. 8. Maenad: literally, “mad woman”, a female follower of the Greek god Bacchus (or Dionysus). This god is associated with the wild, unconscious forces of Nature (his opposite is Apollo, the god of Light and Reason). The classic description of Bacchus and his maenads is in the drama “The Bacchae”, by Euripides ( c. 5th century BC).

124

9. Dirge: a song mourning the dead; here it specifically refers the wailing sound of the West Wind. 10. Closing: two meanings: 1) as in “closing in”, meaning that the cloud mass is thickening and darkening, and 2) “closing” as in “finishing”, as Autumn is said to begin the end of the year. 11. The arch of the sky is likened to the roof of a huge tomb. 12. Congregation: here meaning both “massed clouds” and “a group assembled for worship”. 13. He = the Mediterranean Sea. 14. Pumice Isle: an isle near Naples, Italy. 15. Baiea Bay: a famous resort near Naples where several Roman emperors built palaces. 16. Level powers: literally refers to the horizontal movement of the ocean’s tides; symbolically, the poet deems the Mediterranean’s power as “reliable” or “trustworthy”. 17. Despoil: to shed its leaves. 18. A Biblical allusion: Jesus wore a crown of thorns before being crucified.

Example 5. Ode to a Nightingale (Keats) I. MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock (1) I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate (2) to the drains (3) One minute past, and Lethe-wards (4) had sunk: Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness (5), That thou, light-winged Dryad (6) of the trees, In some melodious plot (7) Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. II. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora (8) and the country green, Dance, and Provencal (9) song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene (10), With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim (11):

III.

125

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow (12) And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes (13), Or new Love pine at them (14) beyond to-morrow. IV. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards (15), But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards (16): Already with thee!(17) tender is the night (18), And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays (19); But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms (20) and winding mossy ways. V. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed (21) darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith (22) the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. VI. Darkling I listen (23); and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death (24), Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem (25) become a sod (26).

126

VII. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! (27) No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth (28), when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements (29), opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. VIII. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toil me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem (30) fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music (31): Do I wake or sleep? Notes to Ode to a Nightingale Regarding form, there are eight 10-line stanzas; nine being in iambic pentameter with the eighth line, however, in iambic trimeter; the rhyme-scheme is, basically, ababcdecde. The theme of the work is the poet’s sorrow at his feeling of separateness or “apartness” from Nature ~ this realization comes fully upon him as he listens to the nightingale signing, an act which fully participates the animal in its environment. Midway, stanza four, the poet expresses his hope to be able to join the bird in its “naturalness”, if not through some basic act, such as singing, then through poetic creation and vision. By stanza eight, however, Keats realizes that, at least in his own case, even artistic union with Nature is denied him. The two final lines express the poet’s doubtfulness of the experience he has just had: Was it real? A fantasy? Some combination of the two? Two further points to note are 1) Keats’ use of sensory descriptions, particularly sight, sound, and smell, and 2) the complex network of Greco-Roman, Shakespearean, and Biblical allusions which are used to evoke the atmosphere of the poem. 1. Hemlock: a plant used to produce a poisonous drink. Most famously, and important here for its classical reference, is the connection of this poison with the death of Socrates. 2. Opiate: an opium-related drug. 3. To the drains: to the bottom, completely.

127

4. Lethe: (Greek) Literally, “forgetfulness”. Particularly, refers to one of the rivers of Hades, immersion in which causes total loss of memory. 5. Here Keats intentionally uses an oxymoron, in that the line actually contradicts its own meaning (i.e., the poet’s extreme happiness has caused his sorrow). The line might be paraphrased, “ I am not sad due to envy of your happy situation, Nightingale; rather, observation of your happiness has made me acutely aware of my own sorrowful condition”. 6. Dryad: literally, a nymph or spirit which lives in a tree; here refers to the nightingale. 7. Plot: place; here meaning forest. Notice that the adjective melodious here modifies plot. Thus, the forest itself, not the bird’s song alone, is harmonious. 8. Flora: Roman goddess of flowers; here meaning flowers, greenery, and vegetation in general. 9. Provencal: the language of the southern part of France; most notably the dialect used by the medieval troubadours (the singers of courtly love). 10. Hippocrene: a fountain on Mt. Helicon, in central Greece, sacred to the classical muses; if the waters are tasted they are said to inspire poetic creation. Here Hippocrene refers to the vintage of the previous lines. 11. The poet desires to lose the self or ego and become one with Nature, as the bird is. 12. The distinction and burden, according to the poet, of humanity is 1) self-consciousness, or ego, with 2) advanced cognitive functions. These two things differentiate us from the animals, allowing, at once, culture, and all our sufferings. 13. All beauty eventually will lose its beauty. Confer Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, line 7: And every fair from fair sometime declines. 14. Them: refers to the lustrous eyes of the previous line. Meaning, new love will not wait (pine) long (beyond tomorrow), before forgetting this new love and moving on to another. 15. Pards: leopards. The chariot of Bacchus, or Dionysus (see note 8 in notes to Ode to the West Wind) is drawn by these large cats. Here Keats means that it is not by intoxication of wine, but rather poetic vision (i.e., on the wings of Poesy) that he will become like the bird in its natural setting. 16. Cognition is not only the faculty that moves us out of Nature, but also inhibits poetic vision and imagination. 17. With this sentence the poet proclaims that he has indeed attained union with the bird ~ in the last two lines of stanza VIII, however, he will cast doubt on the reality of the experience. 18. The most famous line of the poem; used in 1934 by F. Scott Fitzgerald as the title of a novel. 19. Fays: fairies. 20. Glooms: deeply shaded or darkened place. 21. Embalm has three meanings: 1) to preserve a corpse from decay, 2) preserve from unawareness, and 3) to make fragrant. Thus, the phrase “embalmed darkness” is complex in rich meanings. 22. Wherewith: with which. 23. One of the most famous lines in all English literature, and a classic example of synesthesia (i.e., the description of one sense perception in terms of another). 24. Confer Hamlet’s soliloquy, lines 5 – 10. 25. Requiem: music of the Roman Catholic Church sung for the repose of souls. 26. To become the Earth! 27. The phrase “immortal Bird” is meant to evoke the idea of Plato’s Forms. 28. In the Bible, in the Book of Ruth, it is described how this woman was forced to leave her home and live in a foreign place.

128

29. Casement: a window (that opens on a hinge like a door); here it is the window of a castle that looks out on the sea. 30. Refers to the bird’s song, which the poet now describes as plaintive (i.e., sorrowful), as opposed to the “full-throated ease” of stanza I, as he now acutely recognizes his own isolation. 31. Music: 1) the bird’s song, and 2) his state of poetic vision.

Chapter XI The Victorian Age

129

All Aboard!? Generally speaking, Victorian times were prosperous and peaceful (the only military conflict being the short and, relatively, unimportant, Crimean war 1854 - 56). Politically, it is here that we see the English monarchy moving toward its modern (i.e., purely symbolic) role, while the parliament consolidates its hold on power. Economically, England develops into Europe's major manufacturing and banking center. Culturally, we observe the rise of the novel as the major form of literature; and, in connection with this, the re-emergence of women writers. Divisions of the Victorian Age 1832 - 1901 The official, or textbook, dates of the period correspond to the long reign of Queen Victoria. As we shall see, however, the trends moving England, and indeed all Europe, start somewhat before this time and, finally, come to a, horrid, halt with the First World War (1914). Dates / General Character / Effects 1832 - 48/ Developing industrialization/ Social unrest 1848 - 70/ Developed industrialization / Prosperity 1870 - 1901/ Increasing complexity; move toward modernity/ Decay of Victorian values Major Technical and Social Developments There are four points to note: steam-power, the Reform Bills, the Corn laws, and the Chartist movement. I will deal with each only briefly.

130

1. Steam-power The idea of steam as a source of power is very old; in fact, the first rudimentary steam engines being produced as scientific novelties by the Greek Hero of Alexandria, c. 1st century AD. It was not, however, until the 17th century that the combination of social forces (i.e., advances in technology, on the one hand, and the demands of expanding business, on the other) were adequate to bring about the production of a practical steam engine. To review this entire topic is far beyond the scope of this lecture; I would, however, like to mention the following highlights. 1765 James Watts radically improves the design of the existing steam engine, thus constructing the first practical version. From this date forward the improvements are astonishingly rapid. 1803 Richard Trevithick designs the first crude steam locomotive (see picture at top of page). It is, however, impractical for commercial manufacture. 1811 The American Robert Fulton designs and builds the first practical steam boat, the "New Orleans". 1812 John Blenkinsop completely redesigns Trevithick's locomotive, making it practical. Thus, by 1812, with steam as the power-source, the essential machinery of Industrialization - production by the engine, transportation of people and goods via train and boat - is in place. 2. The Reform Bills The Reform Bills of the Victorian Age represent key steps in the slow process toward the modern political structure of Great Britain. As mentioned, most generally, the notable political development of the times is the shift of power from the monarchy, which will gradually move into its present wholly symbolic position, to the parliament. In connection with this, we have the reform of the voting districts and the first extensions of voting rights; in other words, the three Reform Bills. 1832 First, a reorganization of "voting-district-power": a shift of power from the small boroughs, controlled by the small aristocracy and the landed gentry, to the large industrial towns (thus eliminating the "rotten boroughs" and more accurately reflecting population concentrations). Second, extension of the right to vote to all native-born men owning at least 10 pounds worth of property (the "property qualification"). This first Reform Bill was, thus, essentially, of benefit to the industrial capitalists and the middle-class, both of which were rapidly expanding. 1867 and 1884 Without entering upon the (tedious) details of the situation, these two bills further extend voting rights to Englishmen, respectively, in industrial towns, and then in agricultural areas.

131

It is not until 1918 that Britain has its first form of "universal suffrage" with the passing of the "Representation of the People" act: all property qualifications are removed and all native-born men over 21 and women over 30 are granted voting privileges. 3. The Corn Laws A series of legislative acts regulating the import of grain (actually dating back to 1100). During Victorian times the Corn Laws were designed to prohibit grain imports when domestic grain prices reached a certain (unusually high) level, thus cutting off any competition from cheaper foreign sources. The two dates of importance are 1795, when England experienced a very bad harvest, and 1845, the year of the infamous "potato famine" in Ireland. We thus see three factors, in conjunction, as being responsible for much of the unrest in early Victorian times: 1. The beginning stage of industrialization is one of transition: as the old economic system begins to shrink and the new one come into being there is an inevitable period of unemployment. 2. The poor harvests of 1795 and 1845 put the, already shrinking, old agricultural system under even greater stress. 3. The English government, in what amounts to a stop-gap measure, felt forced to prop up the weak domestic agricultural economy with the Corn Laws. Unemployment + high-priced basic foods = social unrest. 4. The Chartist Movement 1838 - 1850 Was a largely working-class movement aimed at parliamentary reform; named after their 1838 document "The People's Charter". Six points are contained in the Charter. 1. Universal (male) suffrage 2. Vote by ballot (as opposed to some form of representation) 3. Annually elected parliaments 4. Payment of members of parliament (making it a full-time, paid position) 5. Abolition of the "property qualification" 6. Equal electoral districts The Chartist Movement, through a combination of poor leadership and improving economic conditions, eventually died out; it is, however, important as a clear statement of trends of the times. Between 1860 and 1914, all the above points, with the exception of #3, would be adopted into law.

132

The Victorian Novelists The dominant form of the Romantic period , at least as far as English is concerned, was, as we saw, poetry; by Victorian times the novel has become central (a position it retains to this day). The topic of the Victorian novel is more suitable for a semester-long course than as a fragment of a lecture; and so, once more, I am forced to produce one of my, by now justly famous, "bare outlines". I divide my writers, in good Victorian fashion, by gender. The Gentlemen -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Charles Dickens 1812 - 70 In short, the first master of the modern novel; expands the form and scope of the genre far beyond what it was (in fact, it could almost be argued that the sole non-Dickensian additions are the Modernistic/Joycean innovations). From the date of his first important publication ("Sketches by Boz", 1836) right up to present times Dickens has not only had an immense popularity but also a popularity that basically has cut across all levels of society. It is perhaps this combination of the popular and the profound that is the secret to the enduring appeal of Dickens (the same comment might be applied, though with more emphasis on the profound, to Shakespeare). As Dickens has so much good work it is rather difficult to pick a "best". I think, however, that it would be generally agreed the a, if not the, classic representation of the Dickensian style is found in "Great Expectations" (1860); whereas the more somber, complex Dickens is at his best is "Bleak House" (1854). Finally, if for no other reason than it is not widely known, I must highly recommend the short story "The Signalman" . William M. Thackeray 1811 - 63 In output, appeal, and (by his own admission) talent, not equal to Dickens, Thackeray is nonetheless a great writer; his main work being, of course, "Vanity Fair" (1848). In a sense, it is a pity that Thackeray was a contemporary of Dickens in that the inevitable (and numerous) comparisons, most often in favor of Dickens, have resulted in something of an underestimation of Thackeray's stature. Read but several pages of Vanity Fair, however, and the urbanely cynical, wonderfully descriptive quality of Thackeray's writing is immediately apparent. The Ladies -------------------------------------------------------------------------------The appearance of female writers in the late Romantic and Victorian times is actually a reemergence of women in western literature. In the classical (Greco-Roman) world, women were an established part of literary culture; perhaps most well-known being the divinely human Sappho (c. mid 7th century BC). In the Victorian times, seven major female writers come forward: Mary Shelley, the three Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell, and George Eliot.

133

Mary Shelley 1797 - 1851 Frankenstein (1818), a classic in the gothic novel genre, is Shelley's main work. Written in a form of the epistolary-novel, the book records the (unnatural) creation of a man, the humanistic (i.e., the works of Goethe, Plutarch, and Paradise Lost) education he is given, and his subsequent violent disillusionment. Though now often cited as the source of a certain type of science-fiction writing, Shelley's original concept, evidently, was a dsytopic version of Rousseau's Noble Savage: 1) the essence of the creature, as of humanity, is good, 2) the creature is given an education indicative of what humanity can be, 3) modern society, with science as its helpmate, is, however, fundamentally evil, 4) thus, the creature is driven mad, commits horrid acts of violence, finally destroying itself. The Latin-tag "corruptio optimii pessima" ( the corruption of the best is worst of all) fits this novel's theme. Charlotte Bronte 1816 - 55 Eldest of the talented Bronte sisters, Charlotte's key work is Jane Eyre (1847). My only comment on this interesting work concerns the description it often receives in literature textbooks: while always, and correctly, noting the active character of the female protagonist (actually a general feature in the work of the Bronte sisters), the basic classification of the novel, which is gothic, is often omitted. What we have, then, is a gothic novel with an active female protagonist - and not the other, or some other, way round. Emily Bronte 1818 - 48 Acknowledged as the greatest of the Bronte sisters, Emily's Wuthering Heights (1847), and also several of her poems (most notable "Last Lines), are works of a very high order. When first published, Wuthering Heights, due to its violent and morose nature, was met with general incomprehension (remember, this was Victorian England), and soon the book was ignored. Modern critics, however, have praised the "original handling of Gothic and Romantic elements inherited from lesser works" (Oxford Companion to English Literature), and the depth of the descriptive skill. Anne Bronte 1820 - 49 Although perhaps least known of the Bronte sisters, her two novels, "Agnes Grey" (1847) and "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" (1848), are both fine productions. There are two points I would like to make regarding these novels. First, although both are of the general Romantic style, neither is Gothic; thus, we have a departure from the form used so well by her sisters. Second, these two novels form something of a contrast: the Romanticism of Agnes Grey is of so mild a type that we are almost tempted to call it a novel-of-manners, whereas the violent mood of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, placed within the context of a tragic love story, make it something of a contradiction (if not to the modern reader, certainly to the Victorian, who promptly ignored this production with that other oddity, Wuthering Heights). Finally, I would like to mention that Anne Bronte's general writing style, something not much mentioned, certainly deserves praise for its combination of simplicity and vivid description (while Charlotte and Emily are doubtlessly vivid, I do not think , at points, their

134

styles natural). The opening paragraphs from each of the main works may illustrate something of my point. (Agnes Grey) ALL true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut. Whether this be the case with my history or not, I am hardly competent to judge. I sometimes think it might prove useful to some, and entertaining to others; but the world may judge for itself. Shielded by my own obscurity, and by the lapse of years, and a few fictitious names, I do not fear to venture; and will candidly lay before the public what I would not disclose to the most intimate friend. (Jane Eyre) THERE was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question. (Wuthering Heights) I have just returned from a visit to my landlord--the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist's heaven: and Mr Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still farther in his waistcoat, as I announced my name. Jane Austen 1775 - 1817 If you remember nothing else of the Victorian period, you must remember Dickens and Austen: dear Boz, one might say, was the "universal" literary genius of his times, producing striking portraits of all levels of society ; Miss Austen, however, was the supreme artificer of the particular "period-piece" : the novel-of-manners. In brief, the novel-of-manners concerns itself with the courting/love relationships, and particularly love-triangles, of upper-class society. On the surface, we have an idealized portrayal of this strata of society; at a deeper level (in the best cases, at least) we find an examination of various moral questions (e.g., regarding loyalty to family and friends, marital fidelity, economic gain versus personal honesty, etc.). Miss Austen's style might be compared to a delicate patterning of fine brush work, with occasional subtle lines of humorous or ironic tint sparkling here and there. In this, as well as in general theme, she does not see fit to vary: Jane Austen finds no reason to wander beyond the boundaries of her own specially-created universe. As Valdimir Nabokov comments in his "Lectures on Literature" (1980), Jane Austen's works are not "violently vivid masterpieces", as, for example, Flaubert's "Madame Bovary", or Tolstoy's "Anna

135

Karenina" ; her works, rather, are reserved in style and theme, expressing themselves in a quiet, subdued manner. Many, if not all, critics rate "Mansfield Park" (1814) as her best work. Elizabeth Gaskell 1810 - 65 Mary Barton (1848) is notable in at least two respects: 1) the entire cast of the novel is working-class; this was an innovation, and 2) we have here a clear example of the type of class-conflict (i.e., workers versus management) that was brewing at that time. Thus, cast and theme, though not what I would call realistic, are certainly moving in that direction. George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) 1819 - 1890 With "Mill on the Floss" (1860) and "Middlemarch" (1872) we again have (here largely) working-class casts; the difference now is that the setting is rural (the sub-title of the latter work is, "A Study in Provincial Life"). Thus, as Gaskell in "Mary Barton" gives us her analysis of the changing social conditions of the newly industrialized towns, here Eliot explores the transformations of countryside life. A Note on Victorian Poetry Literature is long, the semester is short (to paraphrase badly). Thus, I have not the time to say anything of consequence regarding Victorian poetry. The entire period is sometimes called "The Age of Tennyson", and, indeed, Lord Alfred was influential. His main work, in my humble estimation, is "Ulysses"; in fact, I would rate it as fine a production as anything else in all English poetry. Other poets of note are Robert and Elizabeth Browning, and Matthew Arnold.

Excerpts Great Expectations, Chapter 1, by Charles Dickens -------------------------------------------------------------------------------MY father's family name being Pirrip, and my christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip. I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister Mrs Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, `Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,' I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges (1), each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle (2) - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all

136

been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence. Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and that the distant savage lair (3) from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip. `Hold your noise!' cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. `Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!' A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg (4). A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin. Ò! Don't cut my throat, sir,' I pleaded in terror. `Pray don't do it, sir.' `Tell us your name!' said the man. `Quick!' `Pip, sir.' Ònce more,' said the man, staring at me. `Give it mouth!' `Pip. Pip, sir.' `Show us where you live,' said the man. `Pint (5) out the place!' I pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore among the alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread. When the church came to itself for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread ravenously. `You young dog,' said the man, licking his lips, `what fat cheeks you ha' got.' I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong. `Darn Me if I couldn't eat em,' said the man, with a threatening shake of his head, ànd if I han't half a mind to't!'

137

I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying. `Now lookee here!' said the man. `Where's your mother?' `There, sir!' said I. He started, made a short run, and stopped and looked over his shoulder. `There, sir!' I timidly explained. Àlso Georgiana (6). That's my mother.' Òh!' said he, coming back. Ànd is that your father alonger your mother?' `Yes, sir,' said I; `him too; late of this parish.' `Ha!' he muttered then, considering. `Who d'ye live with - supposin' you're kindly let to live, which I han't made up my mind about?' `My sister, sir - Mrs Joe Gargery - wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, sir.' `Blacksmith, eh?' said he. And looked down at his leg. After darkly looking at his leg and me several times, he came closer to my tombstone, took me by both arms, and tilted me back as far as he could hold me; so that his eyes looked most powerfully down into mine, and mine looked most helplessly up into his. `Now lookee here,' he said, `the question being whether you're to be let to live. You know what a file is?' `Yes, sir.' Ànd you know what wittles (7) is?' `Yes, sir.' After each question he titled me over a little more, so as to give me a greater sense of helplessness and danger. `You get me a file.' He tilted me again. Ànd you get me wittles.' He tilted me again. `You bring 'em both to me.' He tilted me again. Òr I'll have your heart and liver out.' He tilted me again. I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him with both hands, and said, Ìf you would kindly please to let me keep upright, sir, perhaps I shouldn't be sick, and perhaps I could attend more.' He gave me a most tremendous dip and roll, so that the church jumped over its own weather-cock. Then, he held me by the arms, in an upright position on the top of the stone, and went on in these fearful terms:

138

`You bring me, to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles. You bring the lot to me, at that old Battery over yonder. You do it, and you never dare to say a word or dare to make a sign concerning your having seen such a person as me, or any person sumever (8), and you shall be let to live. You fail, or you go from my words in any partickler (9), no matter how small it is, and your heart and your liver shall be tore out, roasted and ate. Now, I ain't alone, as you may think I am. There's a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am a Angel. That young man hears the words I speak. That young man has a secret way pecooliar (10) to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver. It is in vain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open. I am a keeping that young man from harming of you at the present moment, with great difficulty. I find it very hard to hold that young man off of your inside. Now, what do you say?' I said that I would get him the file, and I would get him what broken bits of food I could, and I would come to him at the Battery, early in the morning. `Say Lord strike you dead if you don't!' said the man. I said so, and he took me down. `Now,' he pursued, `you remember what you've undertook, and you remember that young man, and you get home!' `Goo-good night, sir,' I faltered. `Much of that!' said he, glancing about him over the cold wet flat. `I wish I was a frog. Or a eel!' At the same time, he hugged his shuddering body in both his arms - clasping himself, as if to hold himself together - and limped towards the low church wall. As I saw him go, picking his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds, he looked in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people, stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his ankle and pull him in. When he came to the low church wall, he got over it, like a man whose legs were numbed and stiff, and then turned round to look for me. When I saw him turning, I set my face towards home, and made the best use of my legs. But presently I looked over my shoulder, and saw him going on again towards the river, still hugging himself in both arms, and picking his way with his sore feet among the great stones dropped into the marshes here and there, for stepping-places when the rains were heavy, or the tide was in. The marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped to look after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not nearly so broad not yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines and dense black lines intermixed. On the edge of the river I could faintly make out the only two black things in all the prospect that seemed to be standing upright; one of these was the beacon by which the sailors steered - like an unhooped cask (11) upon a pole - an ugly thing when you were near it; the other a gibbet (12), with some chains hanging to it which had once held a pirate. The man was limping on towards this latter, as if he were the pirate come to life, and come down, and going back to

139

hook himself up again. If gave me a terrible turn when I thought so; and as I saw the cattle lifting their heads to gaze after him, I wondered whether they thought so too. I looked all round for the horrible young man, and could see no signs of him. But, now I was frightened again, and ran home without stopping. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Notes to Great Expectations Great Expectations (1861) is perhaps the classic example of the Dickensian novel: the vital elements being the relatively simple plot, the satiric humor, and situations and descriptions designed to evoke our sympathy and pity. The theme of Great Expectations, which is narrated in the first person, is the evolution of the personality of the protagonist, Pip. In short, through a long series of connected events Pip comes to a deeper appreciation of the difficulties of life and the importance of family, love, and friendship. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

Lozenge: literally, a diamond-shaped figure; here, meaning the gravestones. Universal struggle: life. Lair: hiding place. Meaning leg-irons; the man is an escaped prisoner. Pint: point. Dickens here uses a phonetic rendering of the man’s uneducated speech in order to add realism. The dead woman’s name is Georgiana; “also” means “also buried here”. Pip, being a child, and also afraid, mistakenly reads both words as his mother’s name. Wittels: food. Sumever: who so ever; a phonetic rendering. Partickler: particular; a phonetic rendering. Pecooliar: peculiar; a phonetic rendering. Unhooped cask: a barrel without any supporting metal band around it. Gibbet: gallows; a device for hanging people.

Excerpt 2 Mansfield Park , Chapter 1, by Jane Austen -------------------------------------------------------------------------------About thirty years ago Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income. All Huntingdon exclaimed on the greatness of the match, and her uncle, the lawyer, himself, allowed her to be at least three thousand pounds short of any equitable claim to it (1). She had two sisters to be benefited by her elevation; and such of their acquaintance as thought Miss Ward and Miss Frances quite as handsome as Miss Maria, did not scruple to predict their marrying with almost equal advantage. But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world as there are pretty women to deserve them. Miss Ward, at the end of half a dozen years, found herself obliged to be attached to the Rev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-

140

in-law, with scarcely any private fortune, and Miss Frances fared yet worse. Miss Ward's match, indeed, when it came to the point, was not contemptible: Sir Thomas being happily able to give his friend an income in the living of Mansfield; and Mr. and Mrs. Norris began their career of conjugal felicity with very little less than a thousand a year. But Miss Frances married, in the common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a lieutenant of marines, without education, fortune, or connexions, did it very thoroughly (2). She could hardly have made a more untoward choice. Sir Thomas Bertram had interest, which, from principle as well as pride--from a general wish of doing right, and a desire of seeing all that were connected with him in situations of respectability, he would have been glad to exert for the advantage of Lady Bertram's sister; but her husband's profession was such as no interest could reach; and before he had time to devise any other method of assisting them, an absolute breach between the sisters had taken place. It was the natural result of the conduct of each party, and such as a very imprudent marriage almost always produces. To save herself from useless remonstrance, Mrs. Price never wrote to her family on the subject till actually married. Lady Bertram, who was a woman of very tranquil feelings, and a temper remarkably easy and indolent, would have contented herself with merely giving up her sister, and thinking no more of the matter; but Mrs. Norris had a spirit of activity, which could not be satisfied till she had written a long and angry letter to Fanny (3), to point out the folly of her conduct, and threaten her with all its possible ill consequences. Mrs. Price, in her turn, was injured and angry; and an answer, which comprehended each sister in its bitterness, and bestowed such very disrespectful reflections on the pride of Sir Thomas as Mrs. Norris could not possibly keep to herself, put an end to all intercourse between them for a considerable period. Their homes were so distant, and the circles in which they moved so distinct, as almost to preclude the means of ever hearing of each other's existence during the eleven following years, or, at least, to make it very wonderful to Sir Thomas that Mrs. Norris should ever have it in her power to tell them, as she now and then did, in an angry voice, that Fanny had got another child. By the end of eleven years, however, Mrs. Price could no longer afford to cherish pride or resentment, or to lose one connexion that might possibly assist her. A large and still increasing family, an husband disabled for active service, but not the less equal to company and good liquor, and a very small income to supply their wants, made her eager to regain the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed; and she addressed Lady Bertram in a letter which spoke so much contrition and despondence, such a superfluity of children, and such a want of almost everything else, as could not but dispose them all to a reconciliation. She was preparing for her ninth lying-in (4); and after bewailing the circumstance, and imploring their countenance as sponsors to the expected child, she could not conceal how important she felt they might be to the future maintenance of the eight already in being. Her eldest was a boy of ten years old, a fine spirited fellow, who longed to be out in the world; but what could she do? Was there any chance of his being hereafter useful to Sir Thomas in the concerns of his West Indian property? No situation would be beneath him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent out to the East? The letter was not unproductive. It re-established peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent friendly advice and professions, Lady Bertram dispatched money and baby-linen, and Mrs. Norris wrote the letters. Such were its immediate effects, and within a twelvemonth a more important advantage to Mrs. Price resulted from it. Mrs. Norris was often observing to the others that she could not get her poor sister and her family out of her head, and that, much as they had all done for her, she seemed to be wanting to do more; and at length she could not but own it to be her

141

wish that poor Mrs. Price should be relieved from the charge and expense of one child entirely out of her great number. "What if they were among them (5) to undertake the care of her eldest daughter, a girl now nine years old, of an age to require more attention than her poor mother could possibly give? The trouble and expense of it to them would be nothing, compared with the benevolence of the action." Lady Bertram agreed with her instantly. "I think we cannot do better," said she; "let us send for the child." Sir Thomas could not give so instantaneous and unqualified a consent. He debated and hesitated;--it was a serious charge;-- a girl so brought up must be adequately provided for, or there would be cruelty instead of kindness in taking her from her family. He thought of his own four children, of his two sons, of cousins in love, etc.;--but no sooner had he deliberately begun to state his objections, than Mrs. Norris interrupted him with a reply to them all, whether stated or not. "My dear Sir Thomas, I perfectly comprehend you, and do justice to the generosity and delicacy of your notions, which indeed are quite of a piece with your general conduct; and I entirely agree with you in the main as to the propriety of doing everything one could by way of providing for a child one had in a manner taken into one's own hands; and I am sure I should be the last person in the world to withhold my mite (6) upon such an occasion. Having no children of my own, who should I look to in any little matter I may ever have to bestow, but the children of my sisters?-- and I am sure Mr. Norris is too just--but you know I am a woman of few words and professions. Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a trifle. Give a girl an education, and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well, without farther expense to anybody. A niece of ours, Sir Thomas, I may say, or at least of_yours_, would not grow up in this neighbourhood without many advantages. I don't say she would be so handsome as her cousins. I dare say she would not; but she would be introduced into the society of this country under such very favourable circumstances as, in all human probability, would get her a creditable establishment. You are thinking of your sons-- but do not you know that, of all things upon earth, _that_ is the least likely to happen, brought up as they would be, always together like brothers and sisters? It is morally impossible. I never knew an instance of it. It is, in fact, the only sure way of providing against the connexion. Suppose her a pretty girl, and seen by Tom or Edmund (7) for the first time seven years hence, and I dare say there would be mischief. The very idea of her having been suffered to grow up at a distance from us all in poverty and neglect, would be enough to make either of the dear, sweet-tempered boys in love with her. But breed her up with them from this time, and suppose her even to have the beauty of an angel, and she will never be more to either than a sister." "There is a great deal of truth in what you say," replied Sir Thomas, "and far be it from me to throw any fanciful impediment in the way of a plan which would be so consistent with the relative situations of each. I only meant to observe that it ought not to be lightly engaged in, and that to make it really serviceable to Mrs. Price, and creditable to ourselves, we must secure to the child, or consider ourselves engaged to secure to her hereafter, as circumstances may arise, the provision of a gentlewoman, if no such establishment should offer as you are so sanguine in expecting." "I thoroughly understand you," cried Mrs. Norris, "you are everything that is generous and considerate, and I am sure we shall never disagree on this point. Whatever I can do, as you well know, I am always ready enough to do for the good of those I love; and, though I could never feel for this little girl the hundredth part of the regard I bear your own dear

142

children, nor consider her, in any respect, so much my own, I should hate myself if I were capable of neglecting her. Is not she a sister's child? and could I bear to see her want while I had a bit of bread to give her? My dear Sir Thomas, with all my faults I have a warm heart; and, poor as I am, would rather deny myself the necessaries of life than do an ungenerous thing. So, if you are not against it, I will write to my poor sister tomorrow, and make the proposal; and, as soon as matters are settled, _I_ will engage to get the child to Mansfield; _you_ shall have no trouble about it. My own trouble, you know, I never regard. I will send Nanny to London on purpose, and she may have a bed at her cousin the saddler's, and the child be appointed to meet her there. They may easily get her from Portsmouth to town by the coach, under the care of any creditable person that may chance to be going. I dare say there is always some reputable tradesman's wife or other going up." Except to the attack on Nanny's cousin, Sir Thomas no longer made any objection, and a more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being accordingly substituted, everything was considered as settled, and the pleasures of so benevolent a scheme were already enjoyed. The division of gratifying sensations ought not, in strict justice, to have been equal; for Sir Thomas was fully resolved to be the real and consistent patron of the selected child, and Mrs. Norris had not the least intention of being at any expense whatever in her maintenance. As far as walking, talking, and contriving reached, she was thoroughly benevolent, and nobody knew better how to dictate liberality to others; but her love of money was equal to her love of directing, and she knew quite as well how to save her own as to spend that of her friends. Having married on a narrower income than she had been used to look forward to, she had, from the first, fancied a very strict line of economy necessary; and what was begun as a matter of prudence, soon grew into a matter of choice, as an object of that needful solicitude which there were no children to supply. Had there been a family to provide for, Mrs. Norris might never have saved her money; but having no care of that kind, there was nothing to impede her frugality, or lessen the comfort of making a yearly addition to an income which they had never lived up to. Under this infatuating principle, counteracted by no real affection for her sister, it was impossible for her to aim at more than the credit of projecting and arranging so expensive a charity; though perhaps she might so little know herself as to walk home to the Parsonage, after this conversation, in the happy belief of being the most liberal-minded sister and aunt in the world. When the subject was brought forward again, her views were more fully explained; and, in reply to Lady Bertram's calm inquiry of "Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?" Sir Thomas heard with some surprise that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris's power to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been considering her as a particularly welcome addition at the Parsonage, as a desirable companion to an aunt who had no children of her own; but he found himself wholly mistaken. Mrs. Norris was sorry to say that the little girl's staying with them, at least as things then were, was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris's indifferent state of health made it an impossibility: he could no more bear the noise of a child than he could fly; if, indeed, he should ever get well of his gouty complaints, it would be a different matter: she should then be glad to take her turn, and think nothing of the inconvenience; but just now, poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time, and the very mention of such a thing she was sure would distract him. "Then she had better come to us," said Lady Bertram, with the utmost composure. After a short pause Sir Thomas added with dignity, "Yes, let her home be in this house. We will endeavour to do our duty by her, and she will, at least, have the advantage of companions of her own age, and of a regular instructress."

143

"Very true," cried Mrs. Norris, "which are both very important considerations; and it will be just the same to Miss Lee (8) whether she has three girls to teach, or only two--there can be no difference. I only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. I am not one of those that spare their own trouble; and Nanny (9) shall fetch her, however it may put me to inconvenience to have my chief counsellor away for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the little white attic, near the old nurseries. It will be much the best place for her, so near Miss Lee, and not far from the girls, and close by the housemaids, who could either of them help to dress her, you know, and take care of her clothes, for I suppose you would not think it fair to expect Ellis (10) to wait on her as well as the others. Indeed, I do not see that you could possibly place her anywhere else." Lady Bertram made no opposition. "I hope she will prove a well-disposed girl," continued Mrs. Norris, "and be sensible of her uncommon good fortune in having such friends." "Should her disposition be really bad," said Sir Thomas, "we must not, for our own children's sake, continue her in the family; but there is no reason to expect so great an evil. We shall probably see much to wish altered in her, and must prepare ourselves for gross ignorance, some meanness of opinions, and very distressing vulgarity of manner; but these are not incurable faults; nor, I trust, can they be dangerous for her associates. Had my daughters been _younger_ than herself, I should have considered the introduction of such a companion as a matter of very serious moment; but, as it is, I hope there can be nothing to fear for _them_, and everything to hope for _her_, from the association." "That is exactly what I think," cried Mrs. Norris, "and what I was saying to my husband this morning. It will be an education for the child, said I, only being with her cousins; if Miss Lee taught her nothing, she would learn to be good and clever from _them_." "I hope she will not tease my poor pug (11)," said Lady Bertram; "I have but just got Julia to leave it alone." "There will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. Norris," observed Sir Thomas, "as to the distinction proper to be made between the girls as they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of my _daughters_ the consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of their cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her remember that she is not a _Miss Bertram_. I should wish to see them very good friends, and would, on no account, authorise in my girls the smallest degree of arrogance towards their relation; but still they cannot be equals. Their rank, fortune, rights, and expectations will always be different. It is a point of great delicacy, and you must assist us in our endeavours to choose exactly the right line of conduct." Mrs. Norris was quite at his service; and though she perfectly agreed with him as to its being a most difficult thing, encouraged him to hope that between them it would be easily managed. It will be readily believed that Mrs. Norris did not write to her sister in vain. Mrs. Price seemed rather surprised that a girl should be fixed on, when she had so many fine boys, but accepted the offer most thankfully, assuring them of her daughter's being a very welldisposed, good-humoured girl, and trusting they would never have cause to throw her off. She spoke of her farther as somewhat delicate and puny, but was sanguine in the hope of

144

her being materially better for change of air. Poor woman! she probably thought change of air might agree with many of her children. Notes to Mansfield Park Mansfield Park is a novel-of-manners which explores questions concerning love and loyalty in familial relationships and marriage. Throughout the work Austen uses her refined, indirect style, liberally laced with quiet, though cutting, irony. Various hypocrisies, particularly of the upper class, are used as vehicles to highlight more general moral questions. The protagonist of the novel is Fanny, a nine year old girl brought to live in the home of her well-to-do relatives, the Bertrams. This couple, Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram have four children of their own, 2 daughters (close to Fanny in age), and two sons (slightly older). Fanny, though lacking in the social advantages of the Bertram children, has in innate moral sense – which is contrasted sharply with the social hypocrisy her cousins have been taught. The surface of the novel portrays the familial, and particularly, courting relationships of these characters. The essence of the work, however, is the moral questions these situations bring to light. 1. It: the marriage proposal. 2. There are three sisters: Marie, Ward, and Frances. Marie marries Sir Thomas Bertram, thus becoming Lady Bertram; Ward marries the Reverend Norris; and Frances marries a marine lieutenant named Price. Due to the economic and social positions of the husbands, the local community thinks the first match extremely good, the second acceptable (due to the financial help of Sir Thomas), but the third marriage poor. 3. Fanny: Frances; i.e., Mrs. Price. 4. Lying-in: a euphemistic phrase describing the home-confinement of a pregnant woman (in Victorian times it was considered improper for an, obviously, pregnant woman to leave home). 5. “What if they were among them…” Mrs. Norris’ language is at once (overly) polite and indirect. “They” means someone in the extended Ward family – of course, Mrs. Norris is actually referring to Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram. But Mrs. Norris instead expresses this in the vague third-person “they”, thus allowing Lady Bertram to reject the idea of someone in the family adopting the eldest daughter of their sister Mrs. Price and yet not bring blame on herself. 6. Mite: modest contribution. Again, notice the overly polite, indeed fawning, quality of Mrs. Norris’ speech. 7. The two sons of the Bertrams. 8. Miss Lee: the governess of the two daughters of the Bertrams. 9. Nanny: chief housemaid. 10. Ellis: housemaid who serves the two Bertram daughters. 11. Pug: a type of small dog.

Chapter XIII

145

Modernism Introduction The background elements to Modernism are three: 1) the negative, and largely unforeseen, results of massive industrialization ( to name but four: overcrowding of city areas, with following slum and crime problems; pollution; disruption of the family-system; a general feeling of isolation and alienation), 2) the horrific destruction of WWI (with the use of the new technology - that was supposed to "save the world" - a record 7.5 million dead), and 3) the following severe economic hardships of the Great Depression (the worst period being the late 1920's to the early 1930's). This time in history is now sometimes called, following the title of T.S. Eliot's main work, the Wasteland period. What we have, then, in sum, is a technological, political, and social failure of epic proportions. In an amazingly short span of time - less than 20 years - the very foundations of western culture, and all the subsequent improvements made upon it, came under scrutiny of the harshest kind. All values, all systems of thought and life, were questioned. Little of the old was found adequate for the new age, and thus much was rejected outright. And yet the remainder was insufficient. The general feeling was one of disillusionment. Gertrude Stein, in a remark to Ernest Hemingway, said, "You are all a lost generation". And yet the artists of the time were equal to the monumental task that confronted them. Out of this despair, of near hopelessness, came an incredible profusion of profound art. This movement, which we now call Modernism, took, essentially, two forms: 1) the development of an entirely new set of techniques and values appropriate to this new age, and 2) a reinterpretation of the old and a synthesis of it with the new. With some qualifications, James Joyce may be seen as the leader in the former, whereas T.S. Eliot was preeminent in the latter.

146

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Traditional Period Contrasted with the Modern Period Very broadly, for the purposes of this discussion, I would like to designate 750 BC - 1914 as the "Traditional" period, and thereafter to the present time as the "Modern". The first point to recognize regarding the Modern period is that, in part at least, it is something entirely new. In other words, if we contrast Greco-Roman times to the Victorian with the start of WWI to the present we will find in the latter several elements never conceived in the former. Now, as I have mentioned several times during this course, the basic procedure for analyzing a piece of literature consists in first identifying its structure (or form) and then moving on to content (giving the work its particular "value coloring") ; these two elements in combination yield what the work expresses (or "means"). Oddly enough, I would now like to apply this literary method of analysis to the period of history under discussion The structure, I would say, of the Traditional period was one of rational unity. By this I mean that the universe was thought to be constructed in a systematic way that was comprehensible to the human mind (n.b., rational here has three meanings: either 1) the scientific Aristotelian-Newtonian sense, or, 2) the supra-rational Platonic-Christian sense, or, 3) some combination of these two). The content of the universe was held to be absolute in quality; this two aspects, one moral, the other physico-logical. Ethically, some things were held to be right and good at all times, whereas other, conversely, were deemed to be immoral and evil in any situation (1). Scientifically, the laws of logic, mathematics, and physics were also thought to be absolutely invariable; for example, both Aristotle and Newton would hold that God was bound by logic (2). Finally, these two elements of structure and content combine giving an expression of continuity between the various subperiods of the Traditional period: in short, we see an emphasis on rationality, the worth of the individual's worth (and thus democracy), and a certain moral inflexibility. In many respects the Modern period is the exact opposite of the Traditional. Structurally, an irrational chaos reigns: and this applies not only to the universe but to humanity itself (confer Freud, starting 1900). Further, all values are relative ; i.e., linked to the certain contingencies of the particular time and place in which the judgement occurs (key names: Oswald Spengler, Leo Frobenius, and James Frazer for sociology, and Einstein for physics). These elements coalesce to form an expression of experimental forms. Thus, to sum up, the Traditional period, on the whole, held a worldview of a rationally unified system of absolute values in continuous expression; the Modern, on the whole, sees an irrational, chaotic collection where value is relative and life forms are experimental. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Examples of Modernist Literary Techniques With experimentation as one of its basic features, as might be guessed, the variety of literary techniques used in Modernism were considerable. Some, of course, proved more flexible (meaning applicable to a wide array of situations) and powerful (capable of deep expression) than others. Three of the most popular, with examples, follow.

147

1. Stream-of-Consciousness (interior monologue) Described, in part, by the Oxford Companion to English Literature as follows,"…the narrative method whereby certain novelists describe the unspoken thoughts and feelings of their characters, without resorting to objective description or conventional dialogue". (From the last chapter of Ulysses.) “YES BECAUSE HE NEVER DID A THING LIKE THAT BEFORE AS ASK To get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting to that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all her…” 2. The "Poetic Image" Though widely used, this technique is rather difficult to describe precisely, due to its flexibility. Basically, however, I would say, it involves a short, objective, and striking analogy or simple description which is intended to evoke in the reader a certain response. The direct historical influence on this Modernist technique is Japanese Haiku and Tanka. Although used primarily in poetry, there are also examples in prose. The standard example is Ezra Pound's "In a Station of the Metro". The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. This next example of the poetic image, though slightly more "impressionistic" in form, is still of the same basic type. It is the opening paragraph from Joyce's "Two Gallants", the sixth story in Dubliners. “The grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city, and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets. The streets, shuttered for the repose of Sunday, swarmed with a gaily coloured crowd. Like illumined pearls the lamps shone from the summits of their tall poles upon the living texture below, which, changing shape and hue unceasingly, sent up into the warm grey evening air an unchanging, unceasing murmur.” 3. Myth-as-Structure Here the Modernist author uses the general outline of a traditional story, but through changes in, for example, the time, setting, and emphasis, reinterprets, often radically, the entire expression of the tale. Through this comparison and contrast, the successful author will be able not only to synthesize traditional and modern elements, but, more importantly, bring about a completely new manner of expression. The most famous example is, of course, Joyce's Ulysses, which is roughly modeled on Homer's Odyssey. Take, for example, chapter 1 in the Odyssey where Telemachus is visited by Athena; this is matched in chapter 1 of Ulysses when Stephen meets the poor old milk

148

woman. Thus, in this particular scene (I have not the necessary hubris to generalize about Ulysses!), Joyce, through a (superficially) similar structure, synthesizes an aspect of the ancient story with his novel, and, simultaneously, through reinterpretation, has the scene express something entirely new. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------A Minimal Introduction to Modernism Modernism, on the whole, is intimidating to students due to the complexity of much of the work. However, a nice, short introduction, I believe, may be had to this genre through a careful (annotated) reading of Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", followed by Joyce's "Dubliners". And the students come and go… -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Excerpts Two Gallants (1), from Dubliners, by James Joyce (1914) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------The grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city, and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets. The streets, shuttered for the repose of Sunday, swarmed with a gaily coloured crowd. Like illumined pearls the lamps shone from the summits of their tall poles upon the living texture below, which, changing shape and hue unceasingly, sent up into the warm grey evening air an unchanging, unceasing murmur. Two young men came down the hill of Rutland Square. One of them was just bringing a long monologue to a close. The other, who walked on the verge of the path and was at times obliged to step on to the road, owing to his companion's rudeness, wore an amused, listening face. He was squat and ruddy. A yachting cap was shoved far back from his forehead, and the narrative to which he listened made constant waves of expression break forth over his face from the corners of his nose and eyes and mouth. Little jets of wheezing laughter followed one another out of his convulsed body. His eyes, twinkling with cunning enjoyment, glanced at every moment towards his companion's face. Once or twice he rearranged the light waterproof which he had slung over one shoulder in toreador (2) fashion. His breeches, his white rubber shoes, and his jauntily slung waterproof expressed youth. But his figure fell into rotundity at the waist, his hair was scant and grey, and his face, when the waves of expression had passed over it, had a ravaged look. When he was quite sure that the narrative had ended he laughed noiselessly for fully half a minute. Then he said: `Well!... That takes the biscuit! (3)' His voice seemed winnowed of vigour (4); and to enforce his words he added with humour: `That takes the solitary, unique, and, if I may so call it, recherché biscuit!' He became serious and silent when he had said this. His tongue was tired, for he had been talking all the afternoon in a public-house (5) in Dorset Street. Most people considered Lenehan a leech, but in spite of this reputation, his adroitness and eloquence had always

149

prevented his friends from forming any general policy against him. He had a brave manner of coming up to a party of them in a bar and of holding himself nimbly at the borders of the company until he was included in a round. He was a sporting vagrant armed with a vast stock of stories, limericks, and riddles. He was insensitive to all kinds of discourtesy. No one knew how he achieved the stern task of living, but his name was vaguely associated with racing tissues (6). Ànd where did you pick her up, Corley?' he asked. Corley ran his tongue swiftly along his upper lip. Òne night, man,' he said, Ì was going along Dame Street and I spotted a fine tart under Waterhouse's clock, and said good night, you know. So we went for a walk round by the canal, and she told me she was a slavey (7) in a house in Baggot Street. I put my arm round her and squeezed her a bit that night. Then next Sunday, man, I met her by appointment. We went out to Donnybrook and I brought her into a field there. She told me she used to go with a dairyman... It was fine, man. Cigarettes every night she'd bring me, and paying the tram out and back. And one night she brought me two bloody fine cigars - O, the real cheese (8), you known that the old fellow used to smoke... I was afraid, man, she'd get in the family way (9). But she's up to the dodge (10).' `Maybe she thinks you'll marry her,' said Lenehan. Ì told her I was out of a job,' said Corley. Ì told her I was in Pim's (11). She doesn't know my name. I was too hairy (12) to tell her that. But she thinks I'm a bit of class, you know.' Lenehan laughed again, noiselessly. Òf all the good ones ever I heard,' he said, `that emphatically takes the biscuit.' Corley's stride acknowledged the compliment. The swing of his burly body made his friend execute a few light skips from the path to the roadway and back again. Corley was the son of an inspector of police, and he had inherited his father's frame and gait.' He walked with his hands by his sides, holding himself erect and swaying his head from side to side. His head was large, globular, and oily; it sweated in all weathers; and his large round hat, set upon it sideways, looked like a bulb which had grown out of another. He always stared straight before him as if he were on parade, and when he wished to gaze after someone in the street, it was necessary for him to move his body from the hips. At present he was about town. Whenever any job was vacant a friend was always ready to give him the hard word (13). He was often to be seen walking with policemen in plain clothes, talking earnestly. He knew the inner side of all affairs and was fond of delivering final judgements. He spoke without listening to the speech of his companions. His conversation was mainly about himself: what he had said to such a person and what such a person had said to him, and what he had said to settle the matter. When he reported these dialogues he aspirated the first letter of his name after the manner of Florentines (14). Lenehan offered his friend a cigarette. As the two young men walked on through the crowd Corley occasionally turned to smile at some of the passing girls, but Lenehan's gaze was fixed on the large faint moon circled with a double halo. He watched earnestly the passing of the grey web of twilight across its face. At length he said:

150

`Well... tell me, Corley, I suppose you'll be able to pull it off (15) all right, eh?' Corley closed one eye expressively (16) as an answer. Ìs she game for that?' asked Lenehan dubiously. `You can never know women.' `She's all right,' said Corley. Ì know the way to get around her, man. She's a bit gone on (17) me.' `You're what I call a gay Lothario (18),' said Lenehan. Ànd the proper kind of a Lothario, too!' A shade of mockery relieved the servility of his manner. To save himself he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of raillery (19). But Corley had not a subtle mind. `There's nothing to touch a good slavey,' he affirmed. `Take my tip for it.' `By one who has tried them all,' said Lenehan. `First I used to go with girls, you know,' said Corley, unbosoming (20); girls off the South Circular. I used to take them out, man, on the tram somewhere and pay the tram, or take them to a band or a play at the theatre, or buy them chocolate and sweets or something that way. I used to spend money on them right enough,' he added, in a convincing tone, as if he was conscious of being disbelieved. But Lenehan could well believe it; he nodded gravely. Ì know that game,' he said, ànd it's a mug's game.' (21) Ànd damn the thing I ever got out of it,' said Corley. `Ditto here, (22)' said Lenehan. Ònly off of one of them (23),' said Corley. He moistened his upper lip by running his tongue along it. The recollection brightened his eyes. He, too, gazed at the pale disc of the moon, now nearly veiled, and seemed to meditate. `She was... a bit of all right,' he said regretfully. He was silent again. Then he added: `She's on the turf now (24). I saw her driving down Earl Street one night with two fellows with her on a car.' Ì suppose that's your doing,' said Lenehan. `There was others at her before me,' said Corley philosophically. This time Lenehan was inclined to disbelieve. He shook his head to and fro and smiled.

151

`You know you can't kid me, Corley,' he said. `Honest to God!' said Corley. `Didn't she tell me herself?' Lenehan made a tragic gesture. `Base betrayer!' he said. As they passed along the railings of Trinity College, Lenehan skipped out into the road and peered up at the clock. `Twenty after,' he said. `Time enough,' said Corley. `She'll be there all right. I always let her wait a bit.' Lenehan laughed quietly. Ècod! Corley, you know how to take them,' he said. Ì'm up to all their little tricks,' Corley confessed. `But tell me,' said Lenehan again, àre you sure you can bring it off all right? You know it's a ticklish job. They're damn close on that point. Eh?... What?' His bright small eyes searched his companion's face for reassurance. Corley swung his head to and fro as if to toss aside an insistent insect, and his brows gathered. Ì'll pull it off,' he said. `Leave it to me, can't you?' Lenehan said no more. He did not wish to ruffle his friend's temper, to be sent to the devil and told that his advice was not wanted. A little tact was necessary. But Corley's brow was soon smooth again. His thoughts were running another way. `She's a fine decent tart,' he said, with appreciation; `that's what she is.' They walked along Nassau Street and then turned into Kildare Street. Not far from the porch of the club a harpist stood in the roadway, playing to a little ring of listeners. He plucked at the wires heedlessly, glancing quickly from time to time at the face of each newcomer and from time to time, wearily also, at the sky. His harp, too, heedless that her coverings had fallen about her knees, seemed weary alike of the eyes of strangers and of her master's hands. One hand played in the bass the melody of Silent, O Moyle (25), while the other hand careered in the treble after each group of notes. The notes of the air sounded deep and full. The two young men walked up the street without speaking, the mournful music following them. When they reached Stephen's Green they crossed the road. Here the noise of trams, the lights, and the crowd, released them from their silence. `There she is!' said Corley.

152

At the corner of Hume Street a young woman was standing. She wore a blue dress and a white sailor hat. She stood on the kerbstone, swinging a sunshade in one hand. Lenehan grew lively. `Let's have a look at her, Corley,' he said. Corley glanced sideways at his friend, and an unpleasant grin appeared on his face. Àre you trying to get inside me? (26)' he asked. `Damn it!' said Lenehan boldly, Ì don't want an introduction. All I want is to have a look at her. I'm not going to eat her.' Ò... A look at her?' said Corley, more amiably. `Well. I'll tell you what. I'll go over and talk to her and you can pass by.' `Right!' said Lenehan. Corley had already thrown one leg over the chains when Lenehan called out: Ànd after? Where will we meet?' `Half ten,' answered Corley, bringing over his other leg. `Where?' `Corner of Merrion Street. We'll be coming back.' `Work it all right now,' said Lenehan in farewell. Corley did not answer. He sauntered across the road swaying his head from side to side. His bulk, his easy pace, and the solid sound of his boots had something of the conqueror in them. He approached the young woman and, without saluting, began at once to converse with her. She swung her umbrella more quickly and executed half turns on her heels. Once or twice when he spoke to her at close quarters she laughed and bent her head. Lenehan observed them for a few minutes. Then he walked rapidly along beside the chains at some distance and crossed the road obliquely. As he approached Hume Street corner he found the air heavily scented, and his eyes made a swift anxious scrutiny of the young woman's appearance. She had her Sunday finery on. Her blue serge skirt was held at the waist by a belt of black leather. The great silver buckle of her belt seemed to depress the centre of her body, catching the light stuff of her white blouse like a clip. She wore a short black jacket with mother-of-pearl buttons, and a ragged black boa. The ends of her tulle collarette had been carefully disordered and a big bunch of red flowers was pinned in her bosom stems upwards. Lenehan's eyes noted approvingly her stout short muscular body. Frank rude health glowed in her face, on her fat red cheeks and in her unabashed blue eyes. Her features were blunt. She had broad nostrils, a straggling mouth which lay open in a contented leer, and two projecting front teeth. As he passed Lenehan took off his cap, and, after about ten seconds, Corley returned a salute to the air. This he did by raising his hand vaguely and pensively changing the angle of position of his hat.

153

Lenehan walked as far as the Shelbourne Hotel, where he halted and waited. After waiting for a little time he saw them coming towards him and, when they turned to the right, he followed them, stepping lightly in his white shoes, down one side of Merrion Square. As he walked on slowly, timing his pace to theirs, he watched Corley's head which turned at every moment towards the young woman's face like a big ball revolving on a pivot. He kept the pair in view until he had seen them climbing the stairs of the Donnybrook tram; then he turned about and went back the way he had come. Now that he was alone his face looked older. His gaiety seemed to forsake him, and as he came by the railings of the Duke's Lawn he allowed his hand to run along them. The air which the harpist had played began to control his movements. His softly padded feet played the melody while his fingers swept a scale of variations idly along the railings after each group of notes. He walked listlessly round Stephen's Green and then down Grafton Street. Though his eyes took note of many elements of the crowd through which he passed, they did so morosely. He found trivial all that was meant to charm him, and did not answer the glances which invited him to be bold. He knew that he would have to speak a great deal, to invent and to amuse, and his brain and throat were too dry for such a task. The problem of how he could pass the hours till he met Corley again troubled him a little. He could think of no way of passing them but to keep on walking. He turned to the left when he came to the corner of Rutland Square, and felt more at ease in the dark quiet street, the sombre look of which suited his mood. He paused at last before the window of a poor-looking shop over which the words Refreshment Bar were printed in white letters. On the glass of the window were two flying inscriptions: Ginger Beer and Ginger Ale. A Cut ham was exposed on a great blue dish, while near it on a plate lay a segment of very light plum-pudding. He eyed this food earnestly for some time, and then, after glancing warily up and down the street, went into the shop quickly. He was hungry, for, except some biscuits which he had asked two grudging curates (27) to bring him, he had eaten nothing since breakfast-time. He sat down at an uncovered wooden table opposite two work-girls and a mechanic. A slatternly girl waited on him. `How much is a plate of peas?' he asked. `Three halfpence, sir,' said the girl. `Bring me a plate of peas,' he said, `and a bottle of ginger beer.' He spoke roughly in order to belie his air of gentility, for his entry had been followed by a pause of talk. His face was heated. To appear natural he pushed his cap back on his head and planted his elbows on the table. The mechanic and the two work-girls examined him point by point before resuming their conversation in a subdued voice. The girl brought him a plate of grocer's hot peas, seasoned with pepper and vinegar, a fork, and his ginger beer. He ate his food greedily and found it so good that he made a note of the shop mentally. When he had eaten all the peas he sipped his ginger beer and sat for some time thinking of Corley's adventure. In his imagination he beheld the pair of lovers walking along some dark road; he heard Corley's voice in deep energetic gallantries, and saw again the leer of the young woman's mouth. This vision made him feel keenly his own poverty of purse and spirit. He was tired of knocking about, of pulling the devil by the tail, of shifts and intrigues. He would be thirty-one in November. Would he never get a good job? Would he never have

154

a home of his own? He thought how pleasant it would be to have a warm fire to sit by and a good dinner to sit down to. He had walked the streets long enough with friends and with girls. He knew what those friends were worth: he knew the girls too. Experience had embittered his heart against the world. But all hope had not left him. He felt better after having eaten than he had felt before, less weary of his life, less vanquished in spirit. He might yet be able to settle down in some snug corner and live happily if he could only come across some good simple-minded girl with a little of the ready (28). He paid twopence halfpenny to the slatternly girl, and went out of the shop to begin his wandering again. He went into Capel Street and walked along towards the City Hall. Then he turned into Dame Street. At the corner of George's Street he met two friends of his, and stopped to converse with them. He was glad that he could rest from all his walking. His friends asked him had he seen Corley, and what was the latest. He replied that he had spent the day with Corley. His friends talked very little. They looked vacantly after some figures in the crowd, and sometimes made a critical remark. One said that he had seen Mac an hour before in Westmoreland Street. At this Lenehan said that he had been with Mac the night before in Egan's. The young man who had seen Mac in Westmoreland Street asked was it true that Mac had won a bit over a billiards match. Lenehan did not know: he said that Holohan had stood them drinks in Egan's. He left his friends at a quarter to ten and went up George's Street. He turned to the left at the City Markets and walked on into Grafton Street. The crowd of girls and young men had thinned, and on his way up the street he heard many groups and couples bidding one another good night. He went as far as the clock of the College of Surgeons: it was on the stroke of ten. He set off briskly along the northern side of the Green, hurrying for fear Corley should return too soon. When he reached the corner of Merrion Street he took his stand in the shadow of a lamp, and brought out one of the cigarettes which he had reserved and lit it. He leaned against the lamp-post and kept his gaze fixed on the part from which he expected to see Corley and the young woman return. His mind became active again. He wondered had Corley managed it successfully. He wondered if he had asked her yet or if he would leave it to the last. He suffered all the pangs and thrills of his friend's situation as well as those of his own. But the memory of Corley's slowly revolving head calmed him somewhat: he was sure Corley would pull it off all right. All at once the idea struck him that perhaps Corley had seen her home by another way, and given him the slip. His eyes searched the street: there was no sign of them. Yet it was surely half an hour since he had seen the clock of the College of Surgeons. Would Corley do a thing like that? He lit his Fast cigarette and began to smoke it nervously. He strained his eyes as each tram stopped at the far corner of the square. They must have gone home by another way. The paper of his cigarette broke and he flung it into the road with a curse. Suddenly he saw them coming towards him. He started with delight, and keeping close to his lamp-post tried to read the result in their walk. They were walking quickly, the young woman taking quick short steps, while Corley kept beside her with his long stride. They did not seem to be speaking. An intimation of the result pricked him like the point of a sharp instrument. He knew Corley would fail; he knew it was no go. They turned down Baggot Street, and he followed them at once, taking the other footpath. When they stopped he stopped too. They talked for a few moments, and then the young woman went down the steps into the area of a house. Corley remained standing at the edge of the path, a little distance from the front steps. Some minutes passed. Then the hall-door

155

was opened slowly and cautiously. A woman came running down the front steps and coughed. Corley turned and went towards her. His broad figure hid hers from view for a few seconds and then she reappeared, running up the steps. The door closed on her, and Corley began to walk swiftly towards Stephen's Green. Lenehan hurried on in the same direction. Some drops of light rain fell. He took them as a warning, and glancing back towards the house which the young woman had entered to see that he was not observed, he ran eagerly across the road. Anxiety and his swift run made him pant. He called out: `Hallo, Corley!' Corley turned his head to see who had called him, and then continued walking as before. Lenehan ran after him, settling the waterproof on his shoulders with one hand. `Hallo, Corley!' he cried again. He came level with his friend and looked keenly in his face. He could see nothing there. `Well?' he said. `Did it come off?' They had reached the corner of Ely Place. Still without answering, Corley swerved to the left and went up the side street. His features were composed in stern calm. Lenehan kept up with his friend, breathing uneasily. He was baffled, and a note of menace pierced through his voice. `Can't you tell us?' he said. `Did you try her?' Corley halted at the first lamp and stared grimly before him. Then with a grave gesture he extended a hand towards the light and, smiling, opened it slowly to the gaze of his disciple. A small gold coin shone in the palm. Notes to Two Gallants Dubliners is recognized as a landmark in modernist literature. The 15 short stories which comprise the work are at once wholly realistic and yet deeply symbolic. Further, as opposed to the traditional story where the reader is given full information pertinent to the situation and at conclusion is provided with a definite ending, in Dubliners much important background is omitted and the endings are often indefinite or unsure. In both cases it is the reader who is expected to fill in the gaps. The theme of Dubliners, as Joyce himself stated, is the spiritual paralysis of modern city life. Simply physical activity – in other words, mindless production and consumption – has become our goal; Plato’s ideal of the examined life (i.e., the truly human quality of our existence) has been nearly forgotten. It is Joyce’s project in this short book to present examples, and thus, the consequences, of this situation. 1. Gallant: a fine gentleman; here used ironically. In short, Corely is a cad and Lenehan is a leech. 2. Toreador: a bull-fighter. 3. To take the biscuit: (slang) the most unbelievable I’ve ever heard.

156

4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

Winnowed of vigour: all the vigour removed. Public-house: a bar, pub. Racing tissues: cheap newspapers with information on horse races. Slavey: a female domestic servant, especially one who is over-worked. The real cheese: (slang) the best. In the family way: pregnant. Up to the dodge: aware, clever; capable of taking care of oneself in that situation. Pim’s: a department store in Dublin. Hairy: (slang) clever, wary. The hard word: (slang) tip, warning. …after the manner of the Florentines: in an affected of self-important way. A Florentine is a member of the Italian city of Florence, a key city during the Renaissance. Certain important Florentine families of this period had the reputation of being pompous. To pull it off: (slang) manage to do it properly. Winked. A bit gone on (something): a bit in love with (something). Lothario: a seducer of women. Raillery: good-humored ridicule. Unbosoming: talking freely of his situation and troubles. Mug: (slang) stupid fellow; mug’s game: a game in which a stupid fellow is cheated. Ditto here: I agree with you. “To get something off someone” (slang) to get something from someone. Here, Corely means he only had sex with one of the girls he dated. Turf: literally, grass; here, it implies that she is living a disreputable life, possibly as a prostitute. Silent, O Moyle: the name of a common Irish ballad. “Are you trying to steal this girl from me?” Curates: (slang) barmen. A little of the ready: money.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (1), by T. S. Eliot (1917) S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero, Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo. (2) LET us go then, you and I, (3) When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table;(4) Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells (5): Streets that follow like a tedious argument

157

Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question... Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.(6) The yellow fog (7) that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— [They (8) will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. (9) For I have known them all already, known them all:— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons (10); I know the voices dying with a dying fall (11) Beneath the music from a farther room.

158

So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase (12), And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] It is perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . . Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?... I should have been a pair of ragged claws (13) Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . . And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter (14), I am no prophet—and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman (15) hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus (16), come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"— If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all."

159

And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." . . . . . No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress (17), start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse (18); At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled (19). Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? (20) I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Notes to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock When Freud was asked to give a brief definition of mental health he replied, “The ability to love and work”. We see in this poem an individual who is only capable of the latter. The protagonist is a single man, nearing middle age, living in a large city; his life has been composed of two primary parts: 1) work, at which he has been successful (“My necktie rich and modest…”), and 2) the unimportant trivial activities of everyday life (“I have measured

160

out my life with coffee spoons…”). His love relationships have been temporary affairs; he has been unable to commit himself to any one woman and make the final decision to marry her. (Further, it is significant that Prufrock makes no mention of his family ~ it is as if they do not exist. In short, he has no close ties with them.) Prufrock has been isolated by the conditions of modern life. He knows this; but, further, he finds he is wholly incapable of changing his own life. There are close connections between this work and others of the period, for example, Dubliners and Sinclair Lewis’ novel Babbitt (1922). The basic themes of the poem are, thus, indecision and loneliness; specifically, these are manifested in his isolated emotional life. 1. The title of the poem itself holds two contradictions: 1) a “love song” about having no love, and 2) the name J. Alfred Prufrock: to abbreviate one’s given name to the first initial, followed by one’s second given name in full, is an unusual practice, with the opposite being standard (e.g., John A. Prufrock); the style in the title, however, has been used by writers and artists since the 1800’s (e.g., F. Scott Fitzgerald); the surname Prufrock, however, in Eliot’s time, was commonly associated with an inexpensive department store chain of the same name (i.e., Prufrock Furniture); thus, the, rather absurd, contrast of elegance and commonality is expressed in the name J. Alfred Prufrock. 2. A quotation from Dante’s Inferno, XXVII, 61-66, “You and I are the same: we are in Hell and can’t return to Earth/ therefore, as you ask of me, I will tell you of my crimes, with no shame” (free translation). 3. As Virgil leads Dante, Prufrock leads us. 4. Etherised: under anesthesia, as for an operation. 5. A “sawdust restaurant” is a cheap restaurant where sawdust has been thrown about the floor to collect fallen trash and make it easy to sweep up; oyster shells are some of the trash. 6. “The women” refers to the women Prufrock has had, or will have, emotional relationships with; the room is his apartment; “talking of Michelangelo” may be understood as “discussing polite things in a superficial way”. 7. Yellow connotes cowardice, and fog confusion: the society in which Prufrock lives, and indeed himself, are dominated by fear and confusion. 8. They: the women. 9. This sentence summarizes Prufrock’s personal life. 10. Meaning, “My life has been centered upon, and divided into sections of, trivial affairs.” 11. Confer Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night where Duke Orsino says, “If music be the food of love, play. Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and die. That strain again! It had a dying fall.” Act I, scene I, 1-4. 12. Meaning, people who give you one look and, using trite, conventional ideas, assume they know everything about you. 13. Prufrock feels he is not fit to be a man, but, because of his cowardice, should have been born a crab (“ragged claws” is an example of synecdoche). This line is, additionally, an allusion to Hamlet, Act II, scene II, 203-204, where Hamlet mocks Polonius, “…for yourself, sir, shall grow as old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.” 14. A reference to John the Baptist, Matthew 14 and Mark 6. 15. Death. 16. The first man Jesus brought back from death; Luke, 16, 19 – 31, John, 11, 1-16. 17. Swell a progress: move the action of the story forward.

161

18. Full of high sentence: speak in an elaborate way. Obtuse: dull-witted. 19. Implying retirement. 20. What things should I do to disguise my growing old? Prufrock ironically wonders if he should comb his hair forward to cover his baldness, and if he dares in public to eat fruits with a pit (because of his weakening teeth).

Preludes , by T. S. Eliot (1919) I THE winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps. II The morning comes to consciousness Of faint stale smells of beer From the sawdust-trampled street With all its muddy feet that press To early coffee-stands. With the other masquerades That time resumes, One thinks of all the hands That are raising dingy shades In a thousand furnished rooms. III You tossed a blanket from the bed, You lay upon your back, and waited; You dozed, and watched the night revealing The thousand sordid images Of which your soul was constituted; They flickered against the ceiling. And when all the world came back And the light crept up between the shutters And you heard the sparrows in the gutters, You had such a vision of the street As the street hardly understands; Sitting along the bed's edge, where

162

You curled the papers from your hair, Or clasped the yellow soles of feet In the palms of both soiled hands. IV His soul stretched tight across the skies That fade behind a city block, Or trampled by insistent feet At four and five and six o'clock; And short square fingers stuffing pipes, And evening newspapers, and eyes Assured of certain certainties, The conscience of a blackened street Impatient to assume the world. I am moved by fancies that are curled Around these images, and cling: The notion of some infinitely gentle Infinitely suffering thing. Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh; The worlds revolve like ancient women Gathering fuel in vacant lots. * FINIS *