John Donne's Holy Sonnets - Sonnet 5:

Here, I will present two alternate readings of this sonnet, being an allegorical interpretation of the judgement that will one day meet us all, and the other being a more common theme for the sonnet, that of love, in this case love that has failed.

Firstly, the sonnet's speaker describes himself as "a little world made cunningly / Of elements, and an angelic sprite;" in other words, he is comprised both of his actual, physical parts, and of his soul (Donne 1-2). The speaker proclaims that "black sin hath betrayed... / [His] world's both parts," and as a result, "both parts must die" (Donne 3-4). Deeper than the surface implication of simple death, however, this implies that not only will he lose his life, but his soul will also die, or in other words, be doomed to eternal damnation as a result of his sins. The speaker pleads that "new seas" be poured "in [his] eyes, / that so [he] might / Drown [his] world with [his] weeping earnestly, / Or wash it if it must be drowned no more" (Donne 7-9). This is a representation of repentence, although in this case, it seems to be a little too late. The speaker weeps over his own fate, and begs for the chance to "drown" or "clean" his soul of the sins he has committed. Indeed, the word "clean" parallels with the common religoius theme of absolution, washing ones slate clean of sins in order to attain entrance into heaven. Finally, the speaker proclaims that "the fire / of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore," so "let their flames retire, / And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal" (Donne 11, 13). Lust and envy are two of the seven deadly sins, and according to many religions, dying with these on your soul will result in damnation. The references to "fire" and "burning" also correlate with the image of hell as a hot, fiery pit. In other words, the sonnet refers to the judgement that awaits everyone. If it's too late to repent, there is no way to save oneself from an eternity in the fires of hell.

Alternatively, sonnets traditionally speak of love, often love for one specific, absent woman. Going back to the speaker's description of his body being comprised of both its physical self and a soul, the soul is often associated with love. "[His] world's both parts" have been "betrayed" by "black sin;" in other words, his soul has been betrayed by the woman that he loves, so that "both parts" of him "must die" (Donne 4, 3). What sort of "black sin" has been commited, then, that has so harmed his soul and its love for this woman? The speaker addresses someone in the sonnet, calling this person "You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write" (Donne 5). He addresses this person with extollation, referring to him or her as higher than even heaven; surely only one who he loves could be referred to with such adulation. Assuming that he is referring to the woman he loves, he goes onto say that she "[Has] found new spheres, and of new lands can write" (Donne 6). In other words, she has moved onto something or someone new, implying that perhaps she has committed adultery, or simply left the speaker in favor of a new love. The speaker wants to "Drown [his] world with [his] weeping earnestly," and this obviously describes heartache and the desire to drown out his life without his love, now that she is gone (Donne 8). His world, however, has been "burnt" by "the fire / Of lust and envy;" in other words, he is destroyed by both his lust for the woman who no longer wants to be with him and the lust she now has for another man, as well as the envy that he feels for this other man who has taken his love from him (Donne 11). Therefore, he begs the "Lord" to "burn [him]... with a fiery zeal ... / which doth in eating heal" (Donne 13-14). In other words, only the fires of the Lord have the power to overcome to lust and envy that have consumed the speaker's life as a result of losing the woman he loves.

John Donne's Holy Sonnets: Sonnet 10

Once again, this sonnet is an example of an apostrophe, addressed this time to Death. The sonnet's speaker seems to be attempting to undermine Death's power, claiming that Death is not "Mighty and dreadful" and "canst... kill [him]" (Donne 2, 4). The Oxford English Dictionary defines death primarily as "the act or fact of dying; the end of life; the final cessation of the vital functions of an individual" (OED). I found this interesting in that while death is the END of life, death is not its own cause. Death doesn't really have power in the sense that it can PUT an end to life; it simply IS the end to life, but the actual power to take life lies elsewhere... in sickness, for instance, or old age, or a tragic accident, etcetera. In that sense, death really doesn't have the power to kill the speaker of this sonnet, or anyone, for that matter. This point is emphasized in the line that tells death "Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men" (Donne 9).

Death also doesn't have the power to kill this speaker in another sense. Many people live their lives in fear of dying, and in this sense, death has already killed them by sucking the joy out of living and replacing it with constant fear and dread. In this sonnet, however, the speaker takes this power away from death, proclaming that death doesn't have power over him and that he refuses to be afraid of death. He claims his own life, determined to live it to the fullest without constantly dreading its end.

Death is also compared to sleep in the sonnet, and this coincides with the Oxford English Dictionary's fourth definition of sleep, "loss of sensation or vitality, state of unconsciousness, swoon" (OED). Death's power is greatly diminished when the speaker reveals that, like death, "poppy or charms can make us sleep as well / And better than [death's] stroke" (Donne 11-12). Indeed, in this sense, death is just another form of going to sleep, or of leaving the conscious world that we normally live in to retreat to another. Also, according to the sonnet, when "men with [death] do go, / Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery" (Donne 6-7). In other words, death has the power to physically remove us from the everyday conscious world, but in doing so, it also frees our souls and brings them to delivery. In this sense, rather than having power to entrap us, death sets us free.

Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder - "Farewell, Love": Analyze One Significant Word

In Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder’s “Farewell, Love,” the word “younger” is of central importance since it embodies all of the poem’s themes in one word. “Farewell, Love” is an apostrophe addressed to Love by an unnamed speaker, who laments the pain that Love has inflicted upon him, then instructs Love to leave him forever and explains that he now desires liberty and knowledge instead. The word “younger” summarizes the poem by encompassing both this remorse for the past and this aspiration for a new future; it also furthers and clarifies the poem’s meaning by providing an explanation for how the speaker has progressed from desiring Love to valuing wisdom and freedom.

Obviously, the word “younger” means “of less age;” however, it can also mean “having less experience or practice” and “less advanced,” and these definitions seem applicable in the context of Wyatt’s poem (Oxford English Dictionary). The speaker dispels Love and expresses how it has pained him when he pleads that it “go trouble younger hearts, / And in [him] claim no more authority” (Wyatt 9-10). This conveys the idea that when he himself was younger, and therefore less experienced, Love’s “many brittle darts” plagued him (Wyatt 12). He further describes his afflictions, saying that Love “pricketh aye so sore” and “[tangled him]” in its “baited hooks” (Wyatt 6, 2). The speaker shows remorse in mourning over the loss of his own youth, further tying in with the word “younger,” when he reflects that “[he has] lost all [his] time” (Wyatt 13). Being young is an opportunity that he now feels he has wasted, even as he proclaims his readiness to abandon the very force that has robbed him of this youngness.

The word “younger” also ties in with the speaker’s hope for a happier future, however. It describes the new recipients to whom Love should give itself, allowing the speaker “to perfect wealth [his] wit,” or focus himself on education, which will bring him well-being (Wyatt 4). Since Love will leave him for “younger hearts,” the speaker is able to say “Farewell” to “Love, and all [its] laws forever,” freeing him of the pain he has avidly described (Wyatt 9, 1).

Finally, in addition to encompassing the literal meaning of the poem, the word “younger” also deepens this meaning by explaining the speaker’s change of heart from valuing Love to valuing freedom and knowledge. Now Love shall leave him to plague those younger than him, since he has learned “to set in trifles no store, / And ‘scape forth since liberty is lever” (Wyatt 7-8). In other words, the speaker’s aging, through experience and practice, has taught him that “trifles,” such as the passionate, physical love of a young man, hold little true value, whereas freedom from this passion brings contentedness. After the passing of his youth, “[He] lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb;” he realizes that this sort of young, violent Love cannot support him for long, and will soon send him crashing down to the ground (Wyatt 14). Interestingly enough, Plato is mentioned in the poem as “[calling]” the speaker away from Love’s “lore,” and this idea of “younger” seems to further Plato’s hierarchy one must ascend in order to understand beauty, as we discussed in class (Wyatt 3). The painful, unsteady Love described in Wyatt’s poem seems to imitate the sort of beauty found on the bottom rungs of Plato’s ladder: loving a beautiful body, loving beauty in all bodies, and even loving beauty in the human soul. The speaker of the poem, however, seems to have ascended to a higher level of understanding, that of loving social order and knowledge. Age and experience permit one to reach this level of “old man love,” as it was described in class, and likewise in the poem, “youngness” pertains to physical, passionate love, while the older and wiser speaker has come to a love and appreciation for more lasting, concrete ideas.

The Faerie Queene, Book I, Canto IV

[38]

So having solacèd themselves a space

With pleasaunce of the breathing fields yfed,

They backe returnèd to the Princely Place;

Whereas an errant knight in armes ycled,

And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red

Was writ Sans joy, they new arrivèd find:

Enflamed with fury and fiers hardy-hed,

He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts unkind,

And nourish bloudy vengeaunce in his bitter mind.

This stanza from The Faerie Queene opens with a description of the trip that Lucifera, the Queen of her “House of Pride”, takes in her golden coach. She is accompanied by her six counselors, named for six of the seven deadly sins: all but pride, represented by Lucifera herself. Also along for the ride is Duessa, a witch disguised as an innocent young maid named Fidessa. The passage explains that the group has just enjoyed a trip to a fragrant field, where they "fed" themselves with its pleasant scent. After this excursion, the caravan returns to "the Princely Place," Lucifera's lavish palace. Upon arriving, the group finds a knight who is prepared for battle, holding a shield that bears his name, "Sans joy," in red letters. The knight is described as bold and fierce, his heart filled with rage; he supposedly has his mind set on "bloudy vengeaunce." Sans joy is guided by his desire to avenge the slaying of his brother, Sans foy, by the Redcrosse Knight. As Sans joy’s violent nature becomes apparent, a bloody battle waged between the two knights seems inevitable, making this a crucial twist in the play's plot. While tensions have been rising up to this point in the fourth Canto, with the introduction of Lucifera and her counselors, and their obvious link to immorality and even Satan himself, the reader still waits for actual conflict to arise. Now, as the other characters encounter Sans joy, with his obvious intent to fight and kill the Redcrosse Knight, this conflict has seemingly arrived.

A more in-depth reading of this passage, however, reveals that the situation is more complex than its literal surface story. Firstly, an examination of the diction in the first two lines as contrasted with the characters those lines describe reveals Spenser’s use of irony. Lucifera and her companions are described as “having solacèd themselves.” The word solace implies comfort and consolation, and, according to the second line, the eight travelers found this by “feeding” themselves with the fragrance of a sweet-smelling field. When considering the characters on this outing, however, it’s hard to imagine that any of them would receive comfort in such a way. Lucifera, for instance, derives pleasure only from pride in herself, her power, and her material possessions, and would unlikely see any value in the breathing in of nature. Likewise, Idleness cannot be bothered to “uphold his heavy head” in order to take in this field, Gluttony cares for nothing more than the food and drink he constantly gorges on, Lechery is satisfied only by lust and the temptation of women, and so on for all of the characters. Therefore, Spenser portrays Lucifera and her companions opposite to their real nature, making them out to be the peaceful, amicable characters in this scene.

What can one make of this incongruity? Well, proceeding to the following lines, Spenser’s diction describing Sans joy seems to designate the knight as the passage’s villain. His shield is described as “heathenish,” implying that its carrier is an uncivilized barbarian. Further descriptions of the knight as “enflamed with fury” and “[harbouring] thoughts unkind” in his “hart” associate him with extreme anger and malice. Sans joy is described as violent as well; this is conveyed through the “bloudy vengeaunce” that supposedly consumes him, as well as through symbolism in the red letters on his shield, where the color red is often associated with blood. Even his name follows this pattern, since “sans” is the French word for without, making his name “Without joy.” In fact, this description of Sans joy sounds like a more accurate portrayal of the inhabitants of the House of Pride.

Since the riders in Lucifera’s golden coach are portrayed ironically in this passage, is it reasonable to theorize that perhaps Sans joy’s character similarly differs from his description here? While I’m not exactly thrilled with the prospect of this knight inflicting a violent death on the Redcrosse Knight, Sans joy does not seem to me to be the entirely evil villain that these lines imply he is. While he undoubtedly wishes to avenge his brother’s death, one cannot completely hold him at fault for this. After all, even if his brother did charged the Redcrosse Knight, forcing him to attack in self-defense, Sans joy was not present to witness the exact circumstances leading to the killing. Naturally, one brother would feel anger and grief at the death of another, and here Sans joy runs into the Redcrosse Knight insultingly carrying his Sans foy’s shield upside down, the woman who was presumably Sans foy’s lover in tow. Sans joy seems at least relatively justified in wanting retaliation, especially considering that brutal and bloody fights among knights were not uncommon. Furthermore, although his thoughts of “bloudy vengeaunce” and his fury make Sans joy seem ruthlessly violent, in Canto 3, he is brought into an angry frenzy at the sight of the sorcerer Archimago disguised as the Redcrosse Knight. When his disguise falls off, however, Sans joy realizes he has the wrong man, and spares Archimago’s life. This demonstrates that the knight isn’t just a blood-thirsty villain, but is rather behaving in accordance with the not-so-uncommon policy of “an eye for an eye.” Therefore, Spenser’s description of Sans joy, while perhaps not far-off enough to be ironic, is certainly laced in hyperbole, exaggerating his villainous qualities. Similarly, Lucifera and her counselors are placed in an ironic setting that represents a complete opposite of their characters.

While Everyman was a fairly easy read for me, and I wasn't exactly bored while reading it, after I finished the text, I found myself wondering why I'd even bothered to read it. Don't get me wrong, it was mildly amusing, and certainly pointed to some accurate characteristics of human nature - most notably the recurring theme that one will promise companionship and devotion all day long, but once a situation arises in which this devotion is actually NEEDED, many people are suddenly hard to find. Other than that, however, the characters just seemed to lack depth. Really, to me, they weren't even characters, but obvious potrayals of man and his various vices and personality traits.

The introduction to the text explains that this play is a "morality play"... this, of course, is fairly easy to deduce. My problem with this was that the moral is seemingly predictable; I'd even go as far as to say it should be common sense, at least to anyone with the appropriate religious beliefs. If you forget about God, and if you live a life of lust, greed, and apathy, your judgement day will come, and when it does, you can't rely on other men, wealth, beauty, strength, etc. to bail you out. How clever is it, really, to have a protagonist, "Everyman," who represents the average man; then have "Everyman" have a meeting with "Death," and learn that he is about to meet his judgement with God? And the other characters don't seem any deeper to me. The first character that Everyman tries to convince to accompany him, for instance, is Fellowship. His name connotes friendly relations, jolly companionship, and the like. Fellowship claims to be a true friend, but then when he discovers that Everyman needs him to accompany him out of this life and into the next, Fellowship bails awfully quickly. Is this a rather accurate portrayal of the average man? Yes; still, in my opinion, this doesn't make it particularly insightful or funny. Another character, Goods, represents the wealth that Everyman has accumulated throughout his life, and doted upon and loved. When Everyman asks for his company on his trip, however, Goods proclaims that he was only deceiving Everyman, and that it was Everyman's incessant focus ON wealth that has gotten him into the predicament he's currently in. Along with an array of other characters, there is, of course, Good Deeds, the only one who is willing to go on the trip, but who has been trampled into the ground by Everyman through his sinful lifestyle. After attending Confession and doing his penance, though, Good Deeds is revived, and becomes the only one to follow through on the journey to the end with Everyman, eventually saving him from eternal damnation. It's a cute story, but again, not exactly rocket science.

So imagine how elated I was to turn to the final page of the play, relieved that I'd managed to work through an entire play of obviousness, and to find the text of the Doctor. The footnote describes him as "the learned theologian who explains the meaning of the play." So now I need someone to explain to me the lesson I just learned? At this point, I was just feeling insulted. Sure enough, the doctor reiterates the point that one cannot rely on such forces as pride, beauty, strength, etcetra come judgement day. Only by doing good deeds can one attain his own salvation. Really? Wow, thanks doc.

I guess the question that all of this leaves me with is really, what is the point of this play? To convey something that virtually all God-fearing people already know through shallow characters with little to no humor? I simply can't believe that people of the time were so stupid that they couldn't deduce the moral of this morality play on their own. Was it propoganda, endorsed by the church in order to encourage men to live generous and ethical lives? But if this were the case, I doubt that we'd be reading this play centuries later. Is there some hidden meaning that I'm missing, or some subtle yet effective humor that I'm not picking up on? I sure hope so.

Well, I suppose I've been putting off my first "real" blog for long enough now. So, The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale. Something that Daniel mentioned in his blog that I really picked up on was the difference in voice between the Wife of Bath's prologue and her tale. When first reading through the prologue's descriptions of the Wife of Bath's various five husbands, I have to admit I was a little taken aback. Many describe the wife as a feminist character, and I agree that many of her attributes point to this role. She describes how her "good" husbands were the ones who she could manipulate to get what she wanted, and this assertion, while somewhat exploitative, seems to point to the essence of the feminist movement itself. When I got to the description of her fifth husband, however, it seemed to contradict the rest of the prologue. Sure, the Wife of Bath could hold her own most of the time. But when it came to the one man who abused her, the one man who she truly NEEDED to stand up to, she couldn't find the strength to do so because she was so enamored of him. To me, the fact that the one man that she loved was the one man who treated her badly, controlling her and manipulating her and even abusing her, downplays her role as a feminist character. It did, however, also give her more depth and make her a more likeable character to me. Before reading this description, she seemed too callous and manipulative, but her description of this fifth husband showed her to be more human, capable of falling in love and being vulnerable.

The Wife of Bath's actual tale definitely did remind me of a sort of fairy tale. There was, of course, the setting that she chose, in which actual fairies were present, and this obviously added to that element. Her language also seems more elaborate and flowery in her telling of the tale, perhaps demonstrating the Continental influence of French literature in Chaucer's writing. The theme of feminism seems to rise yet again in this tale, in that the protagonist must set out on a mission to find out what women want most in the world, and must humble himself to multiple women as he pleads with them to share their deepest desires. In the end, I think it's fascinating how the man only triumphs by sucuumbing to the woman's wants. I'm not entirely sure if Chaucer is attempting to use this tale as a piece of feminist literature... Although a feminist character tends to be assertive and powerful, such as the Wife of Bath, her tolerance of her fifth husband's abuse, as well as her seemingly lewd behavior regarding multiple marriages and using sex as a means to aquire money and power seem somewhat contradictory to the feminist ideal of women being proud of their sexuality and making accomplishments through an assertion of their intellegence and hard work. Also, once the protagonist of the tale agrees to let the old woman make the decisions, she changes, physically, into a sort of male ideal. Her change to an appearance which men admire seems sort of contradictory to feminism in that once the power is handed over to her, her body and sexuality become what seems like no more than an object of man's sexual desire.