Posted in Uncategorized on November 20, 2008 by rachellynncook
I found this week’s readings: Sameuel Johnsons “History of Rasselas: Prince of Abyssinia” to be eloquent. I found the reading flowed smoothly, and the description, while in depth, was not unnecessarily wordy.
I found humor in it, in odd places, such as Johnson’s description that the old instructor’s “intellects were exhausted”. The chapter titles seemed almost..sarcastic. While I am aware that this is supposed to be a reading on moralism, I took a totally different interpretation. Perhaps that is just MY personal issue however. “The wants of him that wants nothing”, “The prince continues to grieve and muse” seemed ..melodramatic.
As the reading continued , The prince began to question things about man. such as in chapter nine, where Johnson writes thus:
‘Stop a moment’, said the prince. “Is there such depravity in man, as that he should injure another without benefit to himself? I can easily conceive that all are pleased with superiority, but your ignorance was merely accidental, which, being neither your crime nor your folly, could afford them no reason to applaud themselves…” – (Johnson:9)
I found that passage to be particularily pointed. It speaks for his journey, and where he is At personally. I also cannot seem to interpret it sarcastically, so It refreshed the point of the first half of this reading. the Second half seemed alot more honest, and reflecting of the theme of moralism.
The more the Prince learns, the more he questions. that seems to be the point of this writing, which was beautifully done. Then Johnson goes on to speak of the Danger of prosperity, bringing us to wonder if personal growth and success is even a healthy goal. The more you have the more you can lose. Furthermore, the more successful you are, the more you may fall prey to those men who are not moral.
Is it then better to live a life of solitude to not participate in any of life’s successes, dangers, and moral shortcomings? It seems that that is the only way to not fall victim, or victimize, in this writing.
The prince wonders, searches, finds, realizes what he has found comes at a price and he will only fall victim to what he has escaped.
vicious circle.
I found the language much easier to follow than previous writings have been.
Posted in Uncategorized on November 6, 2008 by rachellynncook
With the readings of Defoe this week, I seem to have lacked, understanding of the humor of the satire. I found his use of words to possibly be containing double entendres? Possibly he used plays on words and I am not bold enough to read into them?
“We have heard none of this lesson, for fourteen years past! We have been huffed and bullied with your Act of Toleration! You have told us, you are the Church established by Law, as well as others! have set up your canting Synagogues at our Church doors!” (Defoe)
This quote reflects much of the article, which honestly seems to be much more of a rant than a satire.
While the church of England had much power at the time and it would be historically understandable why someone would write a work of this nature, it does not seem to be satirical, as much as just irritated.
Defoe does not appear to be talented on the note of holding his tongue.
A Modest Proposal
For Preventing The Children of Poor People in Ireland
From Being Aburden to Their Parents or Country, and
For Making Them Beneficial to The Public
By Jonathan Swift (1729)
Doesn’t the above just say it all?
Making children beneficial? That is such an old-white-man-with-a-beard way of thinking!
Swift speaks as if to imply that we should feel badly for the fortunate people who had to walk the streets and actually SEE or INTERACT with the poor. It was just so incredibly difficult for the aristocrats and the elite to have to put up with the ragga-muffins and vagabonds, that something HAD to be done to alleviate this horrible burden.
Swifts solution is as follows:
” therefore, whoever could find out a fair, cheap, and easy method of making these children sound, useful members of the commonwealth, would deserve so well of the public as to have his statue set up for a preserver of the nation.”
How ignorant! Though in historical context swifts way of thinking is anything but surprising, it is a harsh example of the class division in Europe at the time.
He simply wanted to “fix” the poor by using them to his own benefit.He then goes on to become more and more and MORE SERIOUS about it, and I continued to think he was so incredibly ignorant..until he proposed we eat the babies to feed the rest. This turned it sharply into a satirical piece. I burst out laughing, half nervously, as i understood that swift did not at all agree with the way the rich saw the poor.
In his poem ” The Lady’s Dressing room”, Swift criticizes how much women fake about themselves on a day to day basis. He discusses all of the things a lady must go through to get ready, taking five hours of course. He discusses how though women look lovely they are actually filthy, but go through a process to look attractive. Swift outlines how Strephon cannot bare to look at Celia when she is not ‘done up’.
Swift also describes a woman’s heart as pandoras box, filled with evils. he basically says that women are awful,filthy whores, who fake everything.
I have read Swifts ” A beautiful Young Nymph going to bed” in high school, oddly enough. It is much like “the lady’s dressing room” in that it starts with a beautiful woman, and then discusses all of the disgusting things she has to do to keep herself looking decent. He continues to explain all of her rituals as he would explain the things any beautiful woman would do before bed, but then adds disgusting twists to them all. He makes a satire of women of his age. He explains how she is actually a hag covered in plaster paint and hair. He speaks of the women of his time as rotten dolls of sorts. It’s rather disgusting!!
His opinions of women are understandable for his time,but, men of the time were probably no better.
Mary Wortley Montagu’s “The Reasons that Induced Dr S to write
a Poem call’d the Lady’s Dressing room, Montagu tears down the disgusting points of man. In much of the same way that swift picked apart women, montagu cites men as being disgusting,dirty,filthy,stenchy creatures, who spend money on women to gain favors. She ends up saying she’d rather go without the gold, and be spared the stench. I found the foot-odor references both nauseating and comical.
Posted in Uncategorized on October 23, 2008 by rachellynncook
GRAVEYARD POETS
The graveyard poets were a small group of poets whose given literary name speaks quite honestly for their work. Graveyard poetry, from poet to poet, possessed many similar qualities. These included: - Imagery of death,
- Nature,
- The afterlife,
- Graveyard Imagery/Funeral Imagery
- passionate/dramatic language.
- Symbolism eluding to death and the afterlife.
The poets typically lived between 1740 and 1790, were occasionally referred to as “Pre-Romantics” and are often credited with changes in the literary tones of the 18th century poetic front. It is important to note their influence, also, on the development of the gothic novel as a popular literary development. the poets included:Thomas Parnell, Thomas Warton, Thomas Percy, Thomas Gray, James MacPherson, Robert Blair, William Collins, Thomas Chatterton, Mark Akenside, Joseph Warton, Henry Kirke White and Edward Young. The most popular of which are Robert Blair and Thomas Gray.
Images of death, funerals, and decay are ‘buried’ in their creations, making their poets literal ‘graveyards’ of morbid symbolism. The poets seem focused on human mortality, seem to have often lead vary unfortunate lives, and were relatively dark people, by personality. The possibility should be explored then, for many, that their graveyard poetry was perhaps speaking for the time in which they lived.
They InfluencedRomantic Poetry which was also characterized by strong emotions, horror, pain, untamed nature, and life in it’s natural state. It was Fanciful and passionate, turning away from sensibility, and indulging in human emotion. Much like the graveyard poets, the did not guard or sensor their sad feelings, or strong emotions.
Due to the rising number of authors emerging with dark works, it is worth exploring the historical context in which these authors were writing. With that said, ‘a picture is often worth a thousand words’. Art from the time reflects the realities of English life during the 18th century, and it’s crudeness. England during the life of the graveyard poets was not the polished comfortable life than many enjoy today. Living conditions were dire, poverty was wide spread, and the division of class systems was a growing problem.
further definition of Graveyard Poets can be found at the below stated link.
(http://www.duke.edu/~tmw15/graveyard%20poets.html)
18th century aristocrat Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire
Many British citizens joined the army in order to improve their positions in life. To illustrate quality of life, the rates of pay were as follows:
Daily Rates of Pay: (1685-1780’s)
In shillings (s) and pence (d)
This was considered a decent rate of pay. To further put things into perspective, this is what you could expect to purchase with those funds, as taken directly from Dr Johnson’s London by Liza Picard :
1/2d (half a penny)
Half a loaf, during the gin craze earlier in the 1700s.
1d (one penny)
Enough gin to get drunk on.
A day’s allowance of coal.
1 1/2d
A pound of soap (by no means as gentle as today’s soap, for it might contain traces of lye).
Hourly rate for a boy to chop firewood
2d (tuppence)
Enough gin to get dead drunk on:
as the old advertising saw goes, “Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for tuppence.”
3d (threepence)
Supper of bread, cheese and beer.
Cost of blood-letting for a poor person.
Cost of postage of a one-page letter going 80 miles (paid for by recipient).
4d (fourpence)
A quart of beer.
A boat across the river.
4d – 6d
A pound of cheese (domestic).
5d
A pound of hair powder.
6d (sixpence)
A barber’s fee for a shave and dressing of one’s wig.
Cost of sweeping one chimney.
6 1/4d (Sixpence farthing)
Dinner for a government clerk: cold meat, bread and a pint of porter.
8d
Cost of an evening at a coffee house.
Turnpike toll for a coach and four horses.
8d -10d
A pound of butter.
10d – 1s
1lb of fat bacon (enough for two working men).
A dozen Seville oranges (not the kind we would care to eat today – nowadays they would be used for making marmalade
1s (one shilling)
Dinner in a steakhouse – beef, bread and beer, plus tip.
Sign-on bonus for army recruitment: The king’s Shilling.
Admission to Vauxhall Gardens
Admission to Ranelagh Gardens (although it could be as much as 2 guineas on masquerade nights).
A dish of beef at Vauxhall.
1lb of perfumed soap.
Postage of a one page letter from London to New York.
1lb of Parmesan cheese.
One shilling was commonly written as 1/-
One and a half shillings (“one and sixpence”)would be written 1/6 etc.
1s 6d
Rate of window tax per window of a house with 12+ windows (1762)
2s (2/-)
Cost of 12 yards of gold braid.
(and you think our Guards lace is expensive!)
Weekly rent of a furnished room for a tradesman.
2s 10d (2/10)
1lb of candles.
4s 6d
A petticoat for a working woman.
5s (5/-)
A pound of Fry’s drinking chocolate.
A bottle of claret at Vauxhall.
A box at Drury Lane Theatre (1763).
A workman’s secondhand coat.
18s -22s
Weekly wage of a journeyman tradesman 1777.
(Picard)
Considering the prices of living, taxes, and basic necessities, the rate of pay in 18th Century London was anything but generous. It can be observed then that the quality of life for those living in London could not have been terribly outstanding. It could even be considered to have been rather depressing. Graveyard poets could then be argued to be products of a problematic society.
The most popular Graveyard poet has come to be Thomas Gray. Born December 26th, 1716, in Corn hill London, Thomas gray was born into unfortunate circumstances. His childhood, like many of the graveyard poets, was dismal, as he was the only surviving child to a violent father, and harsh, unbalanced mother. His environment, which was anything but nurturing, bred a melancholy disposition, which he bled into his written works. It is said that Thomas Gray, in his later years, “Withdrew from the everyday world because he lacked the capacity to cope with it…”(Quintana, Whitley: 81) He was not recorded as being an unpleasant man, but one who buried himself in books and thought, rather than social life.
Thomas Gray’s “Elegy written in a country church yard” is a prime example of the school of writing, embodying almost all of the literary devices employed by the genre’s masters.
“ELEGY WRITTEN IN
A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD”
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
the lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea,
the ploughman homeward plods his weary way, and leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, and all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire’s return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow’d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o’er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne’er unroll; Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country’s blood.
Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation’s eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame.
Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;
Along the cool sequester’d vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e’en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck’d,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unletter’d Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E’en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E’en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th’ unhonour’d dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, –
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
“Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
“There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. “Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross’d in hopeless love.
“One morn I miss’d him on the custom’d hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
“The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
The poem can also be heard/viewed here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47zorSq_GLA
Another of the more famous ‘graveyard poets’ was Robert Blair. He was not a typical graveyard poet by way of personality, but his works reflected very well the characteristics of the subgenre. Beatie, Blai,r and Falconer, describe Blair in their published writings about the poet as follows:
Robert Blair, best known for his poem “The Grave”, is described in [] as:
The facts of his life are more than usually scanty, and our biography, therefore, must be brief and meagre. Robert Blair was born in Edinburgh, in 1699. It is curious, by the way, how few poets the Modern Athens has produced. It has bred lawyers, statists, critics, savans, in plenty, but reared but few men of transcendant genius, and, so far as we remember, only five good poets, — Scott, Ferguson, Ramsay, Falconer, and Blair, — whom the manufacturing town of Paisley nearly matches with its Tannahill, Motherwell, Alexander and John Wilson. Blair was the eldest son of the Rev. David Blair, who was a minister of the Old Church of Edinburgh, and one of the chaplains to the King. His mother was Euphemia Nisbet, daughter of Alexander Nisbet, Esq., of Carfin. His grandfather, Robert Blair, of Irvine, — descended from the ancient family of Blair of that ilk (i. e., of Blair), in Ayrshire, — distinguished himself, in the troublous times of the Solemn League and Covenant, as a powerful preacher, an able negociator, and a brave, determined man.
(Beatie, Blair, Falconer)
This is interesting as the strength of his character stands apart from many of the other prominent graveyard poets. He was not a man who let himself slide into self pity and depression, as much as he was a man who kept himself in the public eye. More social, jovial, and outgoing than Thomas Gray, he lived a more extroverted life. His works however, were just as dark, which would possibly reflect the environment he lived in. It can then be questioned whether it was nature, or nurture, which led these poets to their dark expressions.
While Graveyard poets were not officially regarded as such during the time of their emergence during the 18th Century, they most definitely had a genre-unity through literary characteristics. Many of them were not published until later years, as they did not ever intend for their works to be made public, or to be published. These authors paved the way for many gothic novelists, and heavily influenced romantic writing that came in later years. Highly influential, this small group of authors did not, upon closer inspection, seem to be the lively sort of social group one would wish to invite to a dinner party. Rather highly intellectual, the mainly-introverted group, were a well of deep thought an contemplation to be highly regarded hundreds of years after their deaths.
Posted in Uncategorized on October 9, 2008 by rachellynncook
As a child my father used to sit on the edge of my bed every night and read to me. He read me all of the “Anne of Green Gables” books, Tom Sawyer, Moby Dick, and Robinson Crusoe (among many others). I remember well how many exotic images Robinson Crusoe painted in my young mind. With that said, I approached this read with a child’s memory, an adult’s new perspective, and the knowledge of a third year history major. The read was admittely much different this time around.
I found Robinson Crusoe to be a commentary on the lives of colonists and explorers, and their christian faith. Crusoe’s eventual salvation and stengthening spirituality speak of how many men, drunk with freedom and power, lost their moral guide and christian faith. I am sure that men of the ocean were then, and still are to some extent now, seen as free spirited and somewhat guilty of freely sinning. This novel explored that with more depth, sending the message of salvation with the lord being happiness and peace for the soul.
The novel also explored the slave trade, but without real shock at it, which echoed the time in which it was set. It painted images of far off lands, which would have appealed to Defoe’s readers, who had much intrigue about the new worlds, and far off lands, as they did not generally have the means to travel far themselves. Travel took exceedingly long periods of time and was generally hard on the body.
Defoe’s own life shines through into crusoe’s as crusoe further’s his own life by leaving England in search of other lands. Defoe, though never a rich man, had a love of travel and adventure. His faith was important to him, which also is seen with crusoe.
I cannot imagine what a fantastic book this must have been in the 1660’s, when Defoe was alive. For all of the lack of knowledge the common population had of the rest of the world, this would have been an unreal tidbit of adventure, in literary form.
Posted in Uncategorized on September 25, 2008 by rachellynncook
Manley’s “Secret Memoirs and Manners of Several Person’s of Quality” was startling in it’s own way. It seemed to me that Manley wrote almost in her own code, though even without knowing exactily what she ment, it seemed very tongue-in-cheek. Her attitude is courageous in that as a woman she wrote so very explicitly, eluding to sexual activity and religion. It struck me as quite bold when it seems she chastized society for counting love for another person as a sin, where all of a young person’s love should be for the devine.
Manley spends much of this publication describing love, and passion, and greed. She opens by describing a man’s tears for his master as protocol, rather than honesty, showing us her views on social society. She continues by dancing us through love, society’s views on love and religion, and above all, desperate need for a person to whom you give your love.
I found her writing eerily akin to a harlequin romance novel (not that I’d know..*cough*)
Maybe even senselessly descriptive?Almost angsty in it’s detail? as if she was pushing the envelope for the sake of pushing it, and not for artistic reasons.
Eliza Fowler Haywood was a bit confusing, although more straight-forward in her language. I found her very clever in “Fantomina”, and much like Manley, boldly explicit. She dared to discuss sex openly, and more deviant than that, she portrayed a woman who went out and ‘played’ men. If my understanding is correct, she dressed up as different women, and went out seeking male attention in various forms, playing the part of a rude country girl, a widow, etc. She was a great actress in her own right (the lady subject in question) and evidently had quite a bit of energy to spare!!
Fowler’s writing is incredibly entertaining,and although lengthy, she keeps you wondering just how far her character is going to take her little adventure. Will she stop at one? two? get caught?
It’s very much a surprising read!
Aphra again reminded me of a romance novelist. I found it dry…and full of unnecessary description. I can definitely appreciate that the subject matter was controversial for it’s time, and that it is very much a social commentary, however, it was not my cup of tea, so to speak. Fantastical is a good word for it’s feel.
Posted in Uncategorized on September 17, 2008 by rachellynncook
I found this week’s readings much drier than last weeks. This week’s readings seemed much more focused on life and religion, than on romance.
For the most part I found the poems hard to get through, with the exception of Lady Mary Worley Montagu’s letters. They were fascinating. They really gave a fly-on-the-wall view of a society most never have the opportunity to observe: the life of Islamic women. Her description of their clothing, customs, rooms, etc, was absolutely beautiful. She made it very easy to picture what she was seeing, as a reader, which I’m sure was her intent when writing to the recipient. I found her writing had a very easy to read, gentle, clear flow, much unlike Pepys’ shorthand writing.
Secondly I found Bunyan’s writing not without its charms. He wrote candidly of faith, conversion, and being saved. He wrote with honesty of drifting from the lord, and of being found again, and of the beauty of the love of Christ. I found his admitting his near atheism made it more believable, less “all glory, no honesty”.
So all in all, a pretty dry week, with Montagu spicing it up.
I certainly found our first week of readings incredibly interesting. I I was shy, and turned beat red quite a bit while reading and discussing. I was also quite shocked that this kind of literature was published in the era it was published in.
My favourite of the authors we examined was John Wilmot. He appeared to be so bold, so brave, and so incredibly cheeky. Mind you, he was incredibly crude. John Wilmot’s “The Imperfect Enjoyment”, “Signior Dildo”, and “ A Satyr on Charles II” were all very sexual, very descriptive, and I’ll admit it, captivating poems. I found myself so shocked I could not stop reading. Perhaps this shock stems from my preconceived notions of the time period they were written in, but I’m fairly certain I would be just as shocked reading that in a recent publication.
Signior Dildo was my favourite, and when asked what I’ve been learning in university, I seem to often be offering up that poem as a view into my university career. Reactions vary. I was absolutely blown away by how many aristocratic persons he attacked so openly in this poem. Also..Kind of amazed that some of the terms existed at the time of publication.
The part I found most interesting during our class discussion was the argument on underlying lesbianism in Katherine Philips poetry. I wish we had a way of finding out if her poetry was innocent, or actually rich with innuendo. It’s incredibly open to opinion, and i guess it will have to remain one of those unanswered questions that never goes away.
