My thoughts on Arlecchino, The Servant of Two Masters

Last night my husband and I (and the baby, of course) went to see Arlecchino, The Servant of Two Masters. This probably sounds bad, but I wasn't expecting much; I just wanted to get my extra credit. But I was pleasntly surprised by how well it was done. It is very obvious that everyone worked VERY hard on it, and the acting was pretty good. It was neat to see some of the students in our class in a different light. Elizabeth played Brighella, an innkeeper - she was great. She stuck out her hips and constantly twirled her hair around her fingers. Abby (who is very quiet in class) played Smeraldina the maid, and she was so adorable and lively. William (another quiet one) played Arlecchino, the main character, and did an impressive job. Those are a lot of lines to memorize!! Everyone was great, but I have to say that my favorite character was Scaramouccia, the son of Dr. Lombardi. His part was so dramatic and overdone (intentionally, I'm sure), and it just made me laugh. Overall, the entire play was silly and funny, and it was nice to find out where the term "slapstick comedy" comes from.

For those who didn't get a chance to go, the play is mainly about a servant who undertakes to serve two equally demanding masters. He makes several comical errors in the process but also manages somehow to bring all the lovers together in the end (including himself). And since we are still discussing Twelfth Night, I thought I should mention that this play also contains a crossdressing sister (Beatrice Rasponi dressed up as her deceased brother).

It's kind of a shame that I'll be leaving the area now that I've finally discovered one of Beaufort's hidden treasures (I've only been a student since...well, a long time). I wish I could see more productions, and I even fantasize about reliving my high school freshman drama class days by being on the stage instead of in the audience - it looks like so much fun!!

Oh, and the best part: the baby didn't cry or pass gas too loudly! Hooray!! (Ok, now I'm just being dumb - I'll stop now).

Twelfth Night is pretty funny : > )

I really wish that Dr. Tombe offered a course on Shakespeare comedies. I'd consider taking that one just for giggles. So far I've only read act I, but I thought it was hilarious. I'm afraid that this will make me seem dumb, but when act I, scene 3 begins and it states: "Enter SIR TOBY [Belch]..." I honestly thought that "Belch" was a stage command. It's so fitting too. Sir Toby is a lush. (Perhaps I'm no less of a "natural" than Sir Toby or Sir Andrew.)

Anyway, I particularly love this scene - especially when Sir Andrew shows up. The conversation is priceless. Maria is quite correct in her statement that Sir Andrew is a "natural" (the footnote states that "idiots and fools were called naturals"). He just doesn't get it (Sir Toby is no genius for that matter). He begins the mess by calling Maria a "fair shrew" (1.3.43). Of course I didn't quite understand the joke until I read the very helpful footnote, but either way it's pretty funny. Sir Andrew seems to be attempting to flirt with the "Good Mistress Mary Accost" (which is also very silly) as is evident by his playful banter. The two make plenty of jokes back and forth, but Maria of course thinks Sir Andrew is a complete moron (which he seems to be thus far). He thinks he is so witty. What's silly is that Sir Toby seems to idolize his drinking buddy. He builds Sir Andrew up to be someone very cultured and learned. He tells Maria that he makes a lot of money and that he "speaks three or four languages word for word without the book (1.3.24-25). Apparently French is not among the three or four he managed to learn. Sir Toby simply asks why in French and Andrew totally misses the mark. This leads to a strange conversation that makes absolutely no sense because the two gentlemen continue misunderstanding each other, but neither will ask for clarification because they are so afraid of the other discovering their ignorance.

So that's where I stand so far with Twelfth Night. I really like it so far, and I hope that it will continue to provide the comic relief that is lacking in the copious amount of reading I have to do this week (although I am reading the chapter on sex in my psychology class).

John Donne: Rake to Religion

That's the tentative title of my paper/presentation. We haven't yet covered Donne, but I'm a fan and somewhat familiar with some of his poems. It is interesting to note the difference in his early poems vs. the holy sonnets of his later years. I'm sure most of you have already read "The Flea." Well, if you have then you know it's an elaborate pick up line (he's trying to get her in bed). Compare "The Flea" to sonnet 14, also called "Batter My Heart." (I'm not including this in my presenation - it's just an example.) Click on the link to see the poem. http://www.bartleby.com/105/74.html

I won't go into great detail just yet, but notice the conceit he uses. I've read that it's actually supposed to give one the impression of a ship being tossed about at sea, but it is difficult not to see sexual elements in this sonnet. Perhaps the words "enthrall," "chast[e]," and "ravish" only help to solidify this idea - strange choice of words for someone invoking God, huh?

I've included a couple books that will help get my presentation going (not MLA format):

• Harold Bloom, John Donne and the Seventeenth-Century Metaphysical Poets


• Cleanth Brooks, The Well-Wrought Urn: Studies in the Structure of Poetry

Duessa and Lady Macbeth

For some reason I find the villainess to be significantly more interesting than her male counterpart. I am by no means inspired by wicked women - just strangely fascinated. I am not a huge fan of Duessa, but she does remind me a bit of my favorite villainess, Lady Macbeth. Both women have a high degree of duplicity. It is quite obvious that Duessa is pure evil, but Lady Macbeth's villainous status is slightly less defined (she does display her guilty conscience in her sleep). While both women commit their evil deeds for different reasons, they both focus greatly on keeping up their appearances (I've noticed that appearance vs. reality seems to be a common theme among Renaissance literature). Duessa covers her ugliness and fiendishness with magic and beautiful, rich clothing, and Lady M tries to hide her sins with royal regalia. Lady M sums it up perfectly when she says that she will "look like th'innocent flower / But be the serpent under't" (1.5.65-66), and like Duessa, she succeeds in manipulating a weak and well-intentioned man. Duessa is ultimately exposed to be an ugly, deformed old hag in Book I, Canto 8, stanzas 47-48 (kind of reminds me of what Grendel's mother would look like) and is released to cause more mischief, I presume. We never actually see Lady Macbeth's evil deeds being exposed, but it is implied that she took her own life (and she probably proceeded to join Duessa in the underworld). I'd bet that Lady M looks on the inside how Duessa looked after being exposed (did I say that right?).

Grocery Shopping

I’ll have to get some bananas today.
I hear they’re loaded with potassium.
“We need some milk,” I thought I heard him say,
And the ads say women need calcium.

My daughter likes macaroni and cheese,
So I think I’ll buy her a box of it.
The dog needs shampoo to kill all his fleas,
And today I really need chocolate.

We’re out of detergent – I almost forgot
That we’ll need diapers and formula too.
My husband wants salsa – medium/hot.
Oh, and he needs polish for his scuffed shoe.

There’s still one more thing that I need to buy.
I’ll never remember – why bother to try?

Henry VIII - Check Him Out!!

What can I really say about Henry VIII's love letters to Anne Boleyn? Although he expresses himself very eloquently, I find him to be a disgusting, womanizing pig. He's not even good-looking!! His portraits show him to be aging, overweight, and hairy. What a catch. Meanwhile Anne Boleyn's portrait (one of among the very few I could find and not very detailed- big surprise) depicts her as being fair and youthful with delicate features. Did she really want him? Just from reading the letters, I am compelled to believe that she most certainly did not. Anne probably could have married anyone she wanted. She was wealthy, young, and beautiful, and perhaps she wanted someone a bit less old, overweight, and insecure (and I'm sure a bit more hair on the head would have been nice too). But - what if Henry VIII looked like the handsome young man who plays the part in The Tudors? Hmmm. He probably would have had even more wives.

Henry VIII of The Tudors looks absolutely nothing like the old man pictured above - he looks like he is in his 20s and has great bone structure, sparkling eyes, and an athletic build. Ok, he's HOT (I hope my husband doesn't read this - just kidding). I haven't seen the show myself, but I can only imagine that a large part of it is spent on Henry's love life (sorry this post turned out to be slightly off topic - I think I just wanted a reason to add a picture of the new and improved Henry VIII).

Did Women Have a Renaissance???

And the answer is - of course they didn't. Why would they? The question itself implies that women once excelled at something artistically magnificent (no - having babies, cooking, and cleaning does not count). This is a sad fact. I don't believe for one second that women didn't (or have any desire to) paint , sculpt, or write beautiful poetry or prose. They probably did. And if they didn't - then they probably wanted to (this makes me think of Virginia Woolf's bit on Judith Shakespeare).

Nevertheless, Joan Kelly-Gadol's essay was informative (although not entirely entertaining). In her essay, she quotes a passage from The Book of the Courtier that states that a lady who lives in the court "will be able to entertain graciously every kind of man," and that she should "give up certain unbecoming physical activities such as riding and handling weapons." The essay goes on to say that she should be "as docile in adulthood as her early teachers trained her to be." Geez. No wonder women didn't have a Renaissance. They simply weren't allowed to. They were much too busy entertaining men and being pleasant and beautiful. They weren't allowed to nurture whatever real artistic talents they might possess.

It is sad to think that women have never had and may never have a Renaissance. If someone wants to study great works of literature by women, it is likely that they would have to take a feminist lit class. So why don't they just call the rest of our early lit classes misogynist literature? I'm not by any means implying that I don't enjoy reading the male authors - I just think it would be nice to read more women authors. This way we would be able to have some sort of concept of what it was really like to be woman during those unforgiving times.

Does this man exist?

When I first began reading Book I of The Book of the Courtier I was excited because I thought I had finally found a cure for my insomnia, but once the characters commenced with their game it actually became interesting. I really like how the dialogue flows - it's reminds me of a bunch of friends (really pompous friends) sitting together and just having a good, engaging discussion. Of course, their discussion happens to be appropriate for their time and class and entails describing the "perfect courtier." But does such a man truly exist? He's hideously perfect!! He has every admirable and desirable quality.

Just to name a few of his characteristics:

* He is "born of a noble and genteel family."
* He is "bold, energetic, and faithful."
* He displays courage but not to the point of being scary.
* He has confidence.
* He is gorgeous - soft features but not feminine, yet manly but not too brawny.
* He knows how to wrestle and is a perfect horseman.
* He knows how to "swim, jump, run, and throw stones."
* He behaves himself with good judgment at all times.
* He is graceful.

The list seems neverending. Not only is this man required to hold all the attributes of perfection, but these attributes must also be perfect in themselves (confident not ridiculous; strong but not a beast, etc.). My question is this: Do they really think that this man exists somewhere? I would think the men would find it very comforting to think that he is simply an idealized creation (and perhaps the women would be disappointed and once again immerse themselves in their romance novels, daydreaming of their "perfect courtier"). I really don't think they are being entirely serious. Even the nobility would have enough sense to realize that no single person can be entirely full of virtue and absent of vice, right? Perhaps we will figure out the point of this as the dialogue develops.

The Second Letter in Utopia

So we pretty much all agree that Book II of Utopia is pretty interesting and raises some interesting and controversial questions. But what about the very brief second letter to Peter Giles at the end? The footnote states that it wasn't included in the first edition of Utopia - so why bother to include it in subsequent printings? At first it seems to be some type of rebuttal concerning the authenticity of Hythloday's story. But More doesn't directly state whether or not he believes the story to be true; he simply tells Peter that anyone who wants to know the truth should ask Hythloday himself and even points them in his direction.

This tiny letter was perhaps the most difficult part to understand of Utopia. I get the irony in it, but is it simply a reaction to criticism that More received after the first printing? It just seems to be a bit random within the book. But it is slightly humorous. He states that "reading the book all the way through" is a "burden" (589). I'm sure several of us can't help but agree (although I was surprised that it was so interesting and timeless).

Marriage Customs in Utopia

Book II of Utopia discusses at great length several customs and social practices in its section on "Social Relations." Among these customs is the naked preview of males and females before marriage. This is apparently done in order to reduce the "risk of hating one another for the rest of their lives" (570). Now why would a place like Utopia (where people are supposedly encouraged to be tolerant of one another) encourage profound shallowness and how can one compare buying a piece of property (the colt story) with choosing one's spouse? This leads me to believe that perhaps the citizens of this strange society are not entirely valued as people and are likewise encouraged to treat each other in a business-like, dehumanizing manner. What is so terrible about compromising as a Utopian? Isn't that how we grow as individuals?

We are pretty much guaranteed to not always get what we want, and therefore we must learn to deal with life's little disappointments. Many of us have (or have had) in our minds an ideal mate - either in looks, personality, religion, job, etc. But it usually works out that the person we end up committing to doesn't have every single one of those qualities - and it also usually ends up working out wonderfully (I said usually). Personally, I'm glad we don't live in a perfectionist-type society (mostly because I'm not perfect I suppose). I like the fact that many marriages are based on love and compromise and not purely on physical attractiveness. How would it feel if your potential spouse had to view you naked and decided to leave you because you have cellulite or a big birthmark or small breasts or genitalia? How horrible would that be? I can understand arranged marriages and marriages of convenience, but I can't honestly understand what good could possibly come from shallowness and intolerance. The fact is that people age and grow and change. What may have pointed north in one's youth is sure to face south later in life. Hair falls out where it's wanted and grows where it's not. People gain weight. Looks change and often times things cease to function properly. Either Utopians were entirely ignorant of this simple fact of life, or they just didn't care. Either way, this practice seems utterly pointless and in fact detrimental to self-esteem and marriage.

More's Utopia: Book I

Sir Thomas More's Utopia Book I is actually more interesting than I initially thought it would be. I thought it would have an entirely instructional tone to it, but it doesn't. It's a conversation among men who disagree about what has caused the decline of their country and what should be done to remedy it. It brings up some interesting points such as whether or not they (or we) should use their greatest attributes for the greater good of their country (serving their ruler in this case), and exactly what is the best way to punish criminals? It raises serious, controversial, and thought-provoking questions that can still produce a great amount of discussion in today's society.

But honestly, the part that I enjoyed most was the brief letter to Peter Giles. It was full of silly excuses - something I would not have expected from someone as highly regarded at Thomas More. He explains why it has taken him a year to what what originally should have taken him a month. He says that "the task [of writing] was rendered impossible by my many other obligations" (522). He states various reasons such as work, visitations, and other "business." But in the next paragraph he states: "when I get home I have to talk with my wife, chatter with my children, and and consult with the servants. All these matters I consider part of my business, since they have to be done, unless a man wants to be stranger in his own house" (522). I found this passage to be very humorous and interesting (even if it's not truly autobiographical). It's slightly humorous because he describes his familial obligations as business that has taken him away from such important matters in life as writing about Utopia (and I hope my husband never talks about me and the kids like that). But this is interesting because it gives us some insight on a slightly more personal aspect of his life. This man recognized the importance of family and made a conscious effort to be a part of it - even if he does claim that he was simply conducting "business" (which I'd like to not believe he truly viewed his family this way). Either way, I wish there were more pieces available about the typical family life during the Renaissance (from a more personal perspective anyway), but I suppose that's what research is for.

Sir Thomas Wyatt

I found Wyatt's poems to be somewhat difficult. It's hard to determine which words or lines are meant in a literal sense and which are abstractions, and without the assistance of the footnotes it is very difficult to decipher the conceit. Honestly, what "average" person would have known that in the sonnet "The long love that in my thought doth harbor" love is a warrior or even that love is an abstraction (aren't those usually capitalized anyway)? Or who would have guessed that "Whoso list to hunt" is in fact about the love interest of Henry VIII? I think that it's quite a difficult task to interpret the conceits in these sonnets properly without any outside sources (thank goodness for footnotes). Honestly, I much prefer the Modern Prose Translations. No, they aren't as "fluffy" as the sonnets, but there's something about the clarity in them that I find refreshing (ok - they're just easier to understand). I can easily ignore any hidden meanings, and I don't have to worry about meter or rhyme patterns or even how they should be read. I think that Modern Prose Translations should be made available in conjunction with (or in replacement of) obscure poetry.

Intro to Renaissance Re: Queen Elizabeth

After reading the introduction, I found it interesting that Queen Eliazabeth, although initially met with a great amount of opposition, became quite successful and revered. The text states that "in England [...] there remained a widespread conviction that women were unsuited to wield power over men. Many men seem to have regarded the capacity for rational thought as exclusively male; women, they assumed, were led only by their passions" (493). But this information isn't too surprising, is it? After all, misogyny was not at all uncommon in that era (and most others for that matter). But perhaps what is most interesting is that she reigned for 45 years - without having to entirely "unsex" herself. She maintained a lavish, feminine style, "adorn[ing] herself in dazzling clothes and rich jewels" (494), and she was also sought after by many men (who perhaps wanted a share of her wealth). But despite the fact that she was rich, womanly, and associated with a "religious cult of love," she was tough. She didn't encourage change or dissent and punished those who spoke or acted against her. It is very likely that she was fully aware of the fact that she had to display her power in the same manner that a king would; she could not afford to appear weak or sensitive in any way.

She became very popular, and it seemed that both the men and women of England could identify with her in some way. She even appeared before her soldiers preparing for battle and gave them a motivating speech (all while wearing a "white gown and a silver breastplate" - I do think it's ridiculous that because she was a woman the editors focus on her fashion sense and other feminine virtues. Would they have written something like that if a king showed up to rally his soldiers wearing silky, black pants and an exquisite golden amulet? Probably not - sorry for the rant). Either way, Queen Elizabeth became very respected and feared, and most importantly, she remained beautiful while having people's hands chopped off.