Oliver Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer

Goldsmith's play is very interesting in its portrayal of what seems to be a highly unlikely couple, Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle. Their differing values and interests seem to put the two at odds, yet their marriage manages to survive; these differences also fit with and point to the play's conclusion.

Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle are already at odds as the play opens. Mrs. Hardcastle describes her boredom and her desire to "'take a trip to town... to rub off the rust a little'" (Goldsmith 1). She also condemns their "'old rumbling mansion'" where they "'never see company,'" and describes her husband's "'old stories, '" saying that "'[She] hates such old-fashioned trumpery'" (1). Mr. Hardcastle, on the other hand, "'[loves] everything that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine,'" and even his "'old wife'" (1). Even though his wife desires a visit to London, Mr. Hardcastle declines her request, claiming that to visit would be to "'bring back vanity and affectation'" from London, and describing its "'follies'" and "'fopperies'" (1). It is generally understood that compatibility in a romantic couple relies, at least in part, in shared interests and opinions; how can two people remain together for all of their lives if they cannot agree on what to do, and cannot share and enjoy experiences together? This valuing of action and novelty versus the valuing of antiquity and habit are obviously at odds with each other, making Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle an unlikely wedded couple indeed.

While it doesn't seem possible to determine one definite factor that keeps the two harmoniously together, perhaps it lies within their duty as parents. Both seem completely wrapped up in the marrying away of their children, although for seemingly different motives. Mrs. Hardcastle works furiously in an attempt to set up her son, Tony, with her niece Miss Neville, apparently in order to secure Miss Neville's worthy inheritance within the family. Her husband, on the other hand, is busy arranging a meeting between their daughter Kate and a Charles Marlow; this is because he laments Kate's so-called infection by "'the fashions of the times'" and her taste for "'gauze and French frippery'" (3). He believes he can conquer this by setting her up with "'the son of [his] old friend'" who "'has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service'" (4). Both of them are engaged in accomplishing these goals, which gives them something in common, and also something else to focus on when their differences in opinions and interests clash.

It's also worth taking a second look, however, at how different their motives are. Mr. Hardcastle's desire to stamp out Kate's "infection" by setting her up with Marlow is an extension of his fondness for the old and familiar. Marlow is related to an old and familiar friend, and is down-to-earth, holding traditional values like education and attaining and holding employment. While one may not fully advocate Hardcastle's embracing of old-fashionedness and denouncement of wealth and novelty, one must admit that in his own mind, he certainly has his daughter's best interests at heart. His wife, on the other hand, acts out of greed when trying to set her son Tony up with Miss Neville, wanting to keep the fortune close. This matchmaking may also serve as a means of novel entertainment for her, since her husband refuses her visits from exciting new company and trips to the city. Both of these motives are in her own self-interest, however, disregarding the wants and needs of Tony himself. In the end, Mr. Hardcastle's selfless attempt at matching Kate and Marlow is fulfilled, and the end up together and happy. Mrs. Hardcastle's disregard of Tony's feelings in favor of her own desires, however, ultimate results in the failure of her attempts of coupling Tony and Miss Neville. At the play's close, the two couples of Kate and Marlow and Miss Neville and Hastings are joyous in their unions; old Hardcastle is content at his daughter's security and well-being with Marlow; and Tony is content to be done with pestering regarding Miss Neville. Only Mrs. Hardcastle, the play's shallowest and most self-absorbed character, is unhappy with the results, moaning that it "'is all but the whining end of a modern novel'" (59).

Fantomina: Where Does It Fit In the Conception Of English Literature?

Our class syllabus defines "English literature," at least for our purposes, as mainly dealing with "the established canon of English literature." The fact that Eliza Haywood's Fantomina is only now appearing in the Norton Anthology, in its eight edition and more than 4 decades after its original publication, demonstrates that it doesn't fall into the category of typical, or even canonical, English literature of its time. But why?

The "novel," as it is controversially referred to, was first published in 1725. It appears in Norton under the category of "The Restoration and the Eighteenth Century." One important aspect of this "canon" of British literature is that the great authors and their works correspond with and refer the political, religious, and social orders of their time. While it wasn't uncommon for them to challenge current standards, like the 17th and 18th century satirists, those who did so pointed out the flaws in current operations, pressing for what they deemed an appropriate change. Fantomina, on the other hand, is a blazoned depiction of promiscuity, as the protagonist dresses as a prostitute and has sex with a man named Beauplaisir, then continues to dress in different disguises in order to seduce him again and again. Not only is this controversial sexually, but it depicts men as unintellegent and inferior to women, as the female protagonist manages to dupe Beauplaisir again and again. She even assumes the name "Incognita" in one disguise, and Beauplaisir describes "the wonders of [her] wit" and refers to himself as "[her] everlasting slave" (Haywood 2580). Unlike satirists, who markedly demonstrate the flaws in the current system, Haywood seems to ignore the male-dominated social structure of her time altogether; in addition, to herald her supposition that women have great power and should carry a more dominating role in society, Haywood uses a promiscuous woman, one who literally appears as a whore in her first costume. Rather than critiquing the political or social structure of its time, Fantomina just seems determined to defy it altogether, using shocking, to some unacceptable, content to do so.

Also, while the novel was developed around this time, Fantomina's form alienates it from classic literature of the time. Poetry, in various forms, was predominant in this time period. Fantomina obviously cannot fall under this category, and it met difficulties in being categorized as a novel also. Many conflicts arose regarding the difference between a novel and a "romance," the latter referring to stories whose characters and plots seemed simple or predictable, lacking a deeper and more complex meaning or development. Fantomina seems to fall more into a category of its own, a piece too short and underdeveloped to be a true novel, but too verbose and written in prose, so not a poem, either. The moral of the story? Compared with other English literature, Haywood's Fantomina just doesn't seem to fit in.

Alexander Pope's The Rape of the Lock:

At the close of Canto 3, Pope writes about the power and strength of steel, in reference to the scissors that the Baron uses to chop off Belinda's lock of hair:

" 'What time would spare, from steel receives its date,
And monuments, like men, submit to fate!
Steel could the labor of the Gods destroy,
And strike to dust the imperial towers of Troy;
Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground' " (Pope 3:171-176).

This description of the steel scissors echoes a resounding theme throughout the poem, which is to take things and ideas that most would consider rather trivial and assign to them great importance. Obviously the steel scissors are portrayed as powerful and highly significant; they can destroy what even time itself cannot, they can destroy things made my the hands of Gods, as well as reinforced towers, and they can even confuse the permanant and momentous pride of man. What have these scissors done with all this so-called great power then? They have snipped off a lock of Belinda's hair, which greatly upsets her and here signifies a sort of sexual desecration, but still isn't that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. Comparing having some hair cut off your head to destruction of monuments, labor of the Gods, the towers of Troy, and mortal pride? It seems a little over the top.

Indeed, however, this seems to be Pope's whole point. Likewise, he compares a simple card game between Belinda, the Baron, and another player to a monumental battle. While all of these trivial goings-on occur, elsewhere "The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, / And wretches hang that jurymen may dine" (3:21-22). This is a striking contrast; these wretches are being hung to their death because the jury is tired of deliberating and ready to eat, and at the same time, Belinda is frivolously playing cards and shrieking over a small haircut. In this sense, Pope seems to see reason in the sense of "sound judgment; good sense" (www.dictionary.com); one must be sensible when considering everyday matters, in order to determine their importance and to act towards them accordingly. To take it a step further, though, reason in a philosophical sense is defined as "the power of intelligent and dispassionate thought, or of conduct influenced by such thought" (www.dictionary.com). Pope also seems to be urging for this kind of intellegent thought and the behavior that follows it through portraying the characters of his poem, particular Belinda, as so vapid and not particularly intellegent. The reader can scoff at the behavior of these characters and the importance they place on the trivialities of their lives. To take this scoffing a step further is to ponder and realize that this type of behavior arises from rash and selfish thought, rather than the acute and purposeful thought that both Pope and all advocates of the Enlightenment promoted.

Jonathan Swift's The Lady's Dressing Room"

In this satire, Swift criticizes the idealized female protagonist from literature of his time. The character of Celia represents this ideal, and Swift describes how "The Goddess from her Chamber issues, / Array'd in Lace, Brocades and Tissues" (Swift 3-4). Obviously, Celia here appears beautiful and flawless, as conveyed by the word "Goddess." As the poem goes on, however, Strephon, who seems to be the male protagonist, enters Celia's dressing room and "[takes] a strict Survey, / Of all the Litter as it [lays]" (7-8).

Swift goes on to completely denounce Celia's beauty and demonstrate that it's all a facade, describing how naturally unperfect, and actually disgusting, this "Goddess" is. "A dirty Smock" has been "Beneath [her] Arm-pits well besmear'd," her "various Combs" are "Fill'd up with Dirt," and Strephone even finds "A Paste of Composition rare, / Sweat, Drandriff, Powder, Lead and Hair" (11, 12, 20, 21, 23-24). More negative connotations are formed with Celia when Swift speculates about "Hairs that sink [Celia's] forehead low, / Or on her Chin like Bristles grow," and "The smallest Worm in Celia's nose" (57-58, 64).

Obviously, these extensive descriptions convey Celia's naturally revolting state, but they also serve as a reminder of the old adage "looks can be deceiving," and imply that underneath all of these idealized females there may be an equally gross "Celia." Swift makes this point, describing his "pity" for Strephon in wondering if he "Should... the Queen of Love refuse / Because she rose from stinking Ooze" (131-132). Indeed, while Celia may look good on the stage in full makeup, Swift reminds us that "Such Order from Confusion sprung, / Such gaudy Tulips rais'd from Dung" (144-145). Is it wise, or even possible, to admire the beauty of a flower without considering the literal crap from which it rose? Swift's strong descriptions seem to argue that no, it's not.

Dryden's A Discourse Considering the Original and Progress of Satire:

In this excerpt, Dryden discusses the process and technique of writing satirically. He really seems to hit on an important part of satire, which is also the aspect that makes it so difficult to write: one mustn't come out and SAY what they're trying to express, but must demonstrate their point without explicitly stating it. "How hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave without using any of those opprobrious terms" (Dryden 2131). Instead, Dryden maintains, "to do the thing more severely, is to draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of shadowing" (2131). Dryden also indicates the level of skill it takes to effectively write satire, stating that "this is the mystery... which yet no mater can teach to his apprentice" (2131). In other words, satire cannot be taught as a step-by-step process; one must possess the capacity to write satire, and only practical use can sharpen this skill.

Dryden also expresses how the form of satire makes it possible for writers to criticize powerful forces and people of their time without retribution. "A witty man is ticked while he is hurt in this manner, and a fool feels it not;" in other words, if the person you are satirizing is witty enough to recognize the satire, he must be impressed and entertained by your wit even while he is hurt by it, and a stupid subject will not even have the wit to decipher that the satire makes fun of him (2131). This, explains Dryden, is what makes satire such a powerful literary form. While it can be complex to write, it permits writers to safely and effectively express their opinions and discontent regarding contemporary culture.

Heroic Couplets in John Dryden's "Mac Flecknoe"

Dryden's poem "Mac Flecknoe" functions as a satire of Thomas Shadwell, another playwright of the time. The poem is written in heroic couplets, or rhyming couplets in iambic pentameter. This form of writing comes across as more whimsical and light-hearted than other forms, with its sing-songy rhyming lines. This services Dryden in "Mac Flecknoe" by enabling him to establish a setting as far-fetched as "the realms of Nonsense" and to satirize Shadwell so harshly without negative repercussions (Dryden 6).

The basic premise of "Mac Flecknoe" involves this so-called character of Mac, who refers to Shadwell, taking over in "[governing]... all the realms of Nonsense" (4, 6). In this nonsense world, Shadwell is considered the perfect ruler because he is " 'Mature in dullness' " and " 'stands confirmed in true stupidity' " (16, 18). Upon taking his throne, Shadwell "[swears]... / That he til death true dullness [will] maintain" and in his "realm's defence / Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense" (114-115, 116-117). Obviously, such a society which disvalues traditional forms of writing, willing that "Thy Tragic Muse [give] smiles, they Comic sleep..." and "Thy inoffensive satires never bite", is hard to believe (198, 200). Indeed, such a world where witty and worthwhile writing is actually condemned and dull, pointless writing is extolled is unbelievable enough to make a reader turn away from the poem entirely, discounting the points that Dryden is trying to make. The form of the heroic couplet, however, gives the poem a more whimsical feel; in a sense, Dryden seems to be nodding towards those who say that his world is too unbelievable, acknowledging that it is obviously an exaggerated setting. As a result, the reader no longer has to analyze the setting and take it so seriously, but can admit that it's not supposed to be realistic, and then move on to analyize greater themes of the poem.

In addition, "Mac Flecknoe" is a rather harsh satire on one of Dryden's contemporaries, Shadwell. Dryden harshly criticizes Shadwell's works, claiming that the author can "teach... / Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry" (147-148). Dryden also denounces Shadwell, saying that "[his] mind / By which one way, to dullness, 'tis inclin'd / Which makes [his] writings lean on one side still" (189-191). Normally, Dryden could receive harsh retribution in response to such a poem, or be criticized for his heartlessness in attacking another playwright. The carefree, playful tone brought by the use of heroic couplets, however, gets Dryden off the hook in that it makes his satire look more like playful jest than serious criticism. Therefore, Dryden can still express his distaste for Shadwell and his work in a way that readers can comprehend, but at the same time, doesn't make himself look like such a bad guy.

Ben Jonson's Volpone

Jonson's prologue to Volpone states its purpose as "To mix profit with your pleasure," or entertain the audience while at the same time teaching it a valuable lesson (Jonson Prologue: 8). Indeed, Jonson takes on a sort of braggart tone in the prologue, proclaming that "he dares give [his detractors] five lives to mend [his play] / 'Tis known five weeks fully penned it / From his own hand" (Prologue: 15-17)., yet he still managed to include a message of morality in his play.

Ironically enough, in the first two acts of Volpone, immorality seems to be an abundant theme, highlighted by the fact that all seven of the deadly sins appear within these acts. In 1.1, Volpone demonstrates avarice through his lying and pretending to be ill so that "women and men" will "bring [him] presents, send [him] plate, coin, jewels" in an attempt to win over his estate (1.1: 77, 78). Volpone also demonstrates gluttony, wanting these riches even though he already has "hoards" of "sacred treasure in [his] blessèd room" (1.1: 7, 13). In addition, his slothfulness comes out through the implication that he earns his money dishonestly, "[using] no trae, no venture / ...[winding] no earth with plowshares; [fattening] no beasts / to feed the shambles" (1.1: 33-15). Volpone exhibits lust in 1.5, when he lusts after the wife of Corvino after Mosca's decription of her beauty, declaring that "[He] must see her" and that "[He] will go see her, though but at her window" (1.5: 123, 127).

Corvino provides examples of pride, envy, and wrath when he discovers that his wife, Celia, has "[thrown] down her handkerchief" to Volpone disguised as the merchant Scoto Mantua (2.3: stage directions at 217). Corvino admonishes his wife, showing his own pride when he claims that she's has brought "Death to [his] honor, with the city's fool" (2.3: 1). His envy of Celia's interaction with another man becomes apparent when he accuses her of "[Fanning her] favors forth / To give [her] hot spectators satisfaction," asking if she was "enamored on [Scoto's] copper rings" (2.3: 8-9, 11). Corvino's acts wrathfully when he yells to his wife that "[She] would be damned ere [she] did this," calling her a "whore" and threatening to obtain "justice" through "the murder / Of father, mother, brother, all [her] race" (2.3: 26, 29, 27-28). Indeed, in addition to these, countless other examples exist throughout these first two acts of each of the seven deadly sins, believed by many to be the pinnacle of immorality.

So how do these acts, drenched in sinfulness and immorality, support Jonson's promise in the prologue for a moral lesson to be imparted on his readers through Volpone? I'm assuming this will be made apparently only through the completion of the play's reading. In The Argument preceding his prologue, Jonson cleverly spells out his play's purpose with an acronym of its title, and the last line two lines assure the reader that even though "New tricks for safety are sought" and "thrive," eventually, "Each tempts th'other again, and all are sold" (Argument: 6-7). In other words, although the Volpone's characters are acting in sinful deceit throughout the first two acts of the play, in the end, the moral lesson will be taught through the downfall that each character's immorality brings to the others.

Easter Wings:

This poem is definitely full of religious themes, referring from the very first line to the Lord as creator. It states that the Lord "createdst man in wealth and store," or that He created many men (Herbert 1). Man, however, has lost his wealth foolishly, I assume through sinning against the Lord, and therefore, man has "[decayed] to "become / Most poor" (Herbert 3,5). The speaker of this poem seems to be pleading for some sort of redemption, pleading to "rise" with the Lord and "sing this day [His] victories" so that "the fall" will "further the flight in [him]" (Herbert 7, 9-10). To me, this seems to echo the idea that only through suffering will one attain redemption. The title of the poem refers to Easter, a holiday which celebrates Christ's rising from death back to life, but Christ had to suffer a brutal crucifixion in order to be able to later rise. The speaker seemingly has a desire to share this suffering with Christ and spread the news of it to others so that he, too, may later be redeemed.

In the second stanza, this same theme seems to repeat itself, as the speaker describes that his life began "in sorrow... with sicknesses and shame," and his sins were punished "That [he] became / Most thin" (Herbert 11, 12, 13-14). Again, he pleads to "combine" and "imp [his] wing on [the Lord's]" so that "Afflication shall advance the flight in [him]" (Herbert 17, 19-20). Again, the theme of suffering to attain redemption seems to repeat itself. This is indeed an appropriate theme for a poem entitled Easter Wings, since it was only through his suffering on the cross that Christ attained his figurative "wings," or the ability to ascend to heaven and secure redemption for all of mankind.