Arnold is said to be the first modern critic. He is the founder of sociological literary criticism and criticism as we know it today. He was the first to warrant a critical theory that could be beneficial to both authors and society. For Arnold, there was no clear distinction between “culture and critical values [which] seem to be synonymous…” (Lakshmi). Arnold highlighted this point in Culture and Anarchy by using Greek stratifications of social class to demonstrate a comparison between ancient civilization and the modernity of Victorian England. “Sweetness and Light” is an extended allegory of the classification of Greek society.
The text is modeled according to Plato’s Socrates, with the narrator teaching difficult concepts to the reader, albeit not via dialogue. The narrator represents a “sagacious mentor [who] serves as a thematic link between each of the chapters, underscoring the importance of self-knowledge in order to fully engage the concept of pursuing human perfection,” (Anon.). The Socrates-like narrator points out the classifications and divisions of each group’s role and participation in culture. The classifications of the types of people in Victorian England are represented by the Barbarians, Philistines, and Populace.
Barbarians, in Greek society, were everyone who was not Greek. There were two forms of barbarians; they were the uncivilized and the noble savage. Arnold likens the Barbarians to “the aristocratic segment of society who are so involved with their archaic traditions and gluttony that they have lost touch with the rest of society for which they were once responsible” (Anon). Arnold felt that the conservatism of the aristocracy made them sheltered and primitive, unaware of the progression of Victorian England. Given the primary definition of a Greek barbarian, Arnold most likely doesn’t view the aristocracy as truly English. The Barbarians are not the only group who is isolated from Victorian English culture.
The Philistines were a race of people mentioned in the Old Testament as well as in ancient Greek texts. They were part of a great migration, destroying civilizations who were known in Cyprus, Crete, and other Greek isles. According to Dr. J Bosland, “The Philistines are viewed as participants in the great migration of the period round 1200 B.C., which caused the fall of so many empires,” (Bosland), but they were also the catalyst for a new culture. Their “pottery, architecture, military power, and certain similarities with Homer's Greek heroes” (Bosland) are most likely the basis for Arnold’s labeling of the middle class.
He addresses “the selfish and materialistic middle class who have been gulled into a torpid state of puritanical self-centeredness by nonconforming religious sects” (Anon). Arnold feels this class is tricked into ignoring the true purpose of culture. These might be the disparagers to whom he refers at the beginning of the of the text. This class may be the reason he makes his argument for the expansion of the English meaning of curiosity. This group tries to buy into the power and conservatism of the aristocracy thus further repressing the lower-class.
The Populace, to Arnold, is the only redeemable class. The Populace represents “the disenfranchised, poverty-stricken lower class who have been let down by the negligent Barbarians and greedy Philistines. For Arnold, the Populace represents the most malleable, and the most deserving, social class to be elevated out of anarchy through the pursuit of culture” (Anon). According to Arnold, these people are really only worthy of redemption because of their lack of involvement and inability to monetarily succumb to the anarchy perpetuated by the barbarians and philistines.
Arnold attempts to outline the pursuits of culture and anarchy. Arnold defines culture as the collaboration of both pursuing the passion for doing good -finding the will of god- and scientific passion, which is in pursuit of knowledge. Culture is a collective activity in which everyone must participate in order to gain knowledge and understanding. Culture, in order to work as a collective, requires all individuals to “forsake egocentricity, prejudice, and narrow-mindedness and to embrace an equally balanced development of all human talents in the pursuit of flawlessness,” (Anon.). To have an effective, useful culture is to fulfill the purpose of mankind, and it cannot be done by focusing on individuality. (Arnold 827-829).
In contrast, anarchy has the individual as the nucleus. Anarchy is described as “the absence of a guiding principle in one's life which prevents one from striving to attain perfection. This lack of purpose manifests itself in such social and religious defects as laissez faire commercialism and puritanical hypocrisy,” (Anon.). By focusing on other things as ends in themselves, one has no need to strive for something better; there is no need no search outside one’s own paradigm, and this narrow-minded focus on the self ignores the community as a whole. Focusing on the self “can only lead to a future of increased anarchy as the rapidly evolving modern democracy secures the enfranchisement of the middle and lower classes without instilling in them the need for culture,” (Anon.).
Arnold states culture is the study of perfection. This idea is very similar to Plato’s conviction that our existence is to remember the world of the Forms through serious study via one’s being and society. Arnold felt strongly that only by reflecting on the ideals of Plato could resolve occur for the moral and ethical conflicts that arose from the clashing realms of society, politics, and religion. He explains that by focusing on a “perfection which consists in becoming something rather than having something, in an inward condition of the mind and spirit, not in an outward set of circumstances,” (Arnold 829), something like focusing on the pursuit and understanding of the Good, civilization has a use and the purpose of man will be fulfilled.
Works Cited
Anon. Culture and Anarchy: An Essay in Political and Social Criticism Matthew Arnold.
Enotes. 2010. Web. 02 June 2010.
http://www.enotes.com/nineteenth-century-criticism/culture-anarchy-an-essay-political-social
Arnold, Matthew. “Culture and Anarchy: From Chapter 1. Sweetness and Light.” The Norton
Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Leitch, Vincent B. Norton: New York (2001)
Print. 825-832.
Bosland, J. The Philistines. 1999. Web. 04 June 2010. http://www.bga.nl/en/articles/filist1.html
Lakshmi, S. N. Radhika. Matthew Arnold as a Literary Critic. Web. 02 June 2010.
http://www.literature-study-online.com/essays/arnold.html
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
How Politics and Printing Shaped Middlemarch
George Eliot wrote during the early Victorian period in England, which is classified by the reign of Queen Victoria. During this time, industry began to flourish and the middle class began to gain power. The Reform Bill of 1832 gave the new class political and economic means to unite against land owners. This was a time of great turmoil and change, creating a disparity between the newly forming middle class and the ever-increasing lower classes, which were “thrown off their land and into the cities to form the great urban working class” (Columbia 2005). The new social phenomenon of the middle class created an increase in literacy which led to the rise of the novel, and Middlemarch provides a critique of social norms and values, feminine empowerment, and new questions about morals and philosophy.
The second chapter of Ian Watt’s book Rise of the Novel is directly related to the rise of the middle class. While the lower class rarely completed school beyond the mandatory age of attendance, the middle class had continue to go to school beyond age 5, dividing their time between school and work, because middle class jobs in commerce, administration, and the professions required literacy for employment (Watt 39-41). As the middle class increased, so did the literacy rate of England. Leslie Stephen is quoted as explaining, “The gradual extension of the reading class affected the development of the literature addressed to them” (Watt 36).
Books were expensive, and though the reading class increased, access to manuscripts in full form was limited. Longer stories, called folios, were printed, but reserved for the very rich in limited quantity. Short stories were released in the form of serials in affordable publications like periodicals. Stories published in the cheapest forms were stories abridged into the forms of ballads or chapbooks, which were “abbreviated chivalric romances”, and new stories of criminals or extraordinary events (Watt 43). Pirated copies of works were printed and distributed at a lower price “for the gratification of those who were impatient to read what they could not yet afford to buy” (Watt 43).
Novels, which were in the mid-price range of publications, were like comics are to the reading public now; they were released in volumes called duodecimos. Middlemarch was originally released in eight volumes. Upon its initial publication, the book was seen as central to feminist issues. Then, no critics mentioned the work for over one hundred years. In 1976 however, the book was fervently reviewed by feminist scholars who chastised and rebuked the book as well as the author. Both Eliot and her novels were not seen as examples of feminism to most of the women’s studies community; however, her work was seen as “realistically depicting the possibilities open to most nineteenth century women…” (Siegler 1998).
For the last twenty years, Eliot and Middlemarch are important for feminist critiques of nineteenth century literature. Elizabeth Grosz is cited in “’This Thing I Like my Sister may not Do’: Shakespearian Erotics and a Clash of Wills in Middlemarch” by Carol Siegel because she explains what makes a work of literature feminist. Siegel states:
“’Neither the author, the reader, nor the content of a text explains how we are able to designate it as feminist.’ A feminist text is one whose style ‘render[s] the patriarchal or phallocentric presumptions governing its contexts and commitments visible’ in such a way as to question ‘the power of these presumptions in the production, reception, and assessment of the texts’ and to ‘facilitate the production of new and perhaps unknown, unthought discursive spaces’” (Siegel 1-3).
As this definition is applied to Middlemarch, both Dorothea and Rosamond are strong feminists as they are presented in Books One and Two.
Dorothea is a young woman of sixteen who strives to be pious and devoid of all desire. She wants to live an extremely devout life with knowledge of religion being the ultimate goal to her happiness. When faced with the presentation of a proposal of marriage from Mr. Casaubon, who is over fifty but published and recognized for his religious knowledge and interpretation, as well as the possible proposal from Sir James, who is a baronet that would do anything to ensure Dorothea’s happiness, Dorothea chooses Casaubon. She chose him over Sir James before he even asked. Many of the supporting characters including Dorothea’s uncle, Sir James, and her sister Celia think Dorothea is making a terrible mistake. Nevertheless, by the end of Book One, she “had become Mrs. Casaubon, and was on her way to Rome” (Eliot 60).
It is also on page 60 that we meet Rosamond Vincy, who is the traditional beauty of the story. In manner, character, and appearance, Rosamond is Dorothea’s diametric opposite. In fact, at a dinner party to announce and celebrate Dorothea’s engagement, many of the men, whether married or not, compared the beauty and talents of these two women and how they appeal to each man’s desires. Rosamond is more refined than Dorothea, but she has an equally elevated taste in her preference of men. While the standards for Rosamond’s future husband are different than Dorothea’s, they are equally unattainable for most men.
George Eliot has been harshly criticized because of the resolve of her characters. Most often critiqued are the manner in which her female heroes resolve their issues. Eliot, Siegel explains, often “resolve[s] her heroines’ life crises with marriage” is seen as “fidelity to the truth of ordinary women’s lives” (Siegel 1). It seems that while now it is mostly accepted that Eliot’s realistic approach to relationships and marriage, as contrasted with Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, is a fair representation for the way life was for women in the nineteenth century, many feminist critics cannot accept Dorothea as a strong female representation of a hero.
What makes Dorothea such a strong female hero during Book One is her desire to stick with the qualities that make a man great to her. She wants to marry a learned man from whom she can learn. The reaction to her decision to marry the older, less attractive, less wealthy Mr. Casaubon illuminates the expectations and social values of a husband of the society in which she lives. Valuing the knowledge and religious preferences of a potential husband over possible social status illuminates, as Grosz says, causes the patriarchal assumptions of the time to become visible.
In “The Key to Epic Life?: Classical Study in George Eliot’s Middlemarch,” Hilary Mackie questions the representation of Dorothea in the Prelude and evaluates what should make an epic, with regard to classical literature, life. Mackie’s hypothesis is, “Within the fiction of the novel, however, we see Dorothea and other characters try in various ways, but fail, to make sense of their lives through the study, employment, or imitation of classical models” (Mackie 53). What the author is missing is that Dorothea is not trying to imitate the life of some past saint, but she is trying to live up to her own ideal; morality is her way to live an epic- beyond any classical literary conventions- life.
The morality of Dorothea and the Prelude has also been debated in the field of philosophy. With regard to Middlemarch being an example of a morality tale, philosophers debate the role of fiction in shaping the society in which it is published. Rohan Maitzen answers Martha Nussbaum’s critique of Eliot’s novel by applying Nussbaum’s own criteria to the novel to prove it is an exemplary illustration of how fiction can contribute to philosophy by answering the question, “How should one live?”
The role of the novel in philosophy means that “the novel may share generic features which compliment or correct conventional philosophical discourse” (Maitzen 191). The terms Nussbaum set for the ethical evaluation of fiction include:
1. Analysis of the text’s literary properties
2. Every aspect of form and style expresses a sense of life and of value, a sense of what matters and what does not
3. Discovers this “sense of life” through close reading the engaged experience line by line
4. Reveals the character of the implied author, the would be friend urging us on a particular ‘pattern of desire’ (Maitzen 191).
Nussbaum bashes Eliot and Middlemarch in comparison with Henry James’ work, but Maitzen spends half of her essay showing that Nussbaum’s biases have elevated James beyond a fair evaluation of what a moral novel is.
When she moves on to evaluating Eliot’s novel, Maitzen shows that the Prelude outlines with “clarity, precision, and quiet confidence of the erudite narrator” (Maitzen 197) what the tale will be. Maitzen explains that the narrator possesses knowledge to interpret the story and life of St. Theresa as well as explain the significance of St. Theresa’s life to the modern audience. Clearly exhibited in the Prelude is the sense of life Eliot is going to describe; Maitzen says, “What is important and what is not in this fictional world” is the history of man (198). By using grand language, Eliot “encourages us to admire their idealistic plan and to lament the practical limits of domestic reality,” and also suggests “that it was worthy of epic treatment” (Maitzen 198).
Middlemarch and its history are full of controversy and debate about its validity as both a feminist and moral story. Never have I read a story about which critics are so conflicted. Without consensus, the novel proves to stand alone as a great work of literature that comments on social norms, feminist ideals, the value of virtues, and the life and times of women in the nineteenth century.
Works Cited
Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia. “The Victorian Age.” Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia
2005. http://www.infoplease.com/ce6/ent/A0858005.html 28 Feb. 2010.
Eliot, George. Middlemarch. Ed. Bert G. Hornback. Norton: New York. 2000.
Mackie, Hilary. “The Key to Epic Life?: Classical Study in George Eliot's Middlemarch.”
Classical World 2009. 103:1. 53-67.
http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2146/journals/classical_world/v103/103.1.mackie.pdf 27
Feb. 2010.
Maitzen, Rohan. “Martha Nussbaum and the Moral Life of Middlemarch.” Philosophy and
Literature 2006. 30. 190-207.
Siegel, Carol. “This thing I like my sister may not do': Shakespearean Erotics and a Clash of
Wills in Middlemarch.” Style. Spring98: 32, 1. Academic Search Premier.
http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2060/ehost/detail?vid=4&hid=103&sid=94177b8b-be7b-4637ac17d5227a7c34@sessionmgr111&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ%3d%3d#db=aph&AN=1516862 28 Feb. 2010
Watt, Ian. “The Reading Public and the Rise of the Novel.” The Rise of the Novel. Penguin:
Victoria 1963. 36-41.
The second chapter of Ian Watt’s book Rise of the Novel is directly related to the rise of the middle class. While the lower class rarely completed school beyond the mandatory age of attendance, the middle class had continue to go to school beyond age 5, dividing their time between school and work, because middle class jobs in commerce, administration, and the professions required literacy for employment (Watt 39-41). As the middle class increased, so did the literacy rate of England. Leslie Stephen is quoted as explaining, “The gradual extension of the reading class affected the development of the literature addressed to them” (Watt 36).
Books were expensive, and though the reading class increased, access to manuscripts in full form was limited. Longer stories, called folios, were printed, but reserved for the very rich in limited quantity. Short stories were released in the form of serials in affordable publications like periodicals. Stories published in the cheapest forms were stories abridged into the forms of ballads or chapbooks, which were “abbreviated chivalric romances”, and new stories of criminals or extraordinary events (Watt 43). Pirated copies of works were printed and distributed at a lower price “for the gratification of those who were impatient to read what they could not yet afford to buy” (Watt 43).
Novels, which were in the mid-price range of publications, were like comics are to the reading public now; they were released in volumes called duodecimos. Middlemarch was originally released in eight volumes. Upon its initial publication, the book was seen as central to feminist issues. Then, no critics mentioned the work for over one hundred years. In 1976 however, the book was fervently reviewed by feminist scholars who chastised and rebuked the book as well as the author. Both Eliot and her novels were not seen as examples of feminism to most of the women’s studies community; however, her work was seen as “realistically depicting the possibilities open to most nineteenth century women…” (Siegler 1998).
For the last twenty years, Eliot and Middlemarch are important for feminist critiques of nineteenth century literature. Elizabeth Grosz is cited in “’This Thing I Like my Sister may not Do’: Shakespearian Erotics and a Clash of Wills in Middlemarch” by Carol Siegel because she explains what makes a work of literature feminist. Siegel states:
“’Neither the author, the reader, nor the content of a text explains how we are able to designate it as feminist.’ A feminist text is one whose style ‘render[s] the patriarchal or phallocentric presumptions governing its contexts and commitments visible’ in such a way as to question ‘the power of these presumptions in the production, reception, and assessment of the texts’ and to ‘facilitate the production of new and perhaps unknown, unthought discursive spaces’” (Siegel 1-3).
As this definition is applied to Middlemarch, both Dorothea and Rosamond are strong feminists as they are presented in Books One and Two.
Dorothea is a young woman of sixteen who strives to be pious and devoid of all desire. She wants to live an extremely devout life with knowledge of religion being the ultimate goal to her happiness. When faced with the presentation of a proposal of marriage from Mr. Casaubon, who is over fifty but published and recognized for his religious knowledge and interpretation, as well as the possible proposal from Sir James, who is a baronet that would do anything to ensure Dorothea’s happiness, Dorothea chooses Casaubon. She chose him over Sir James before he even asked. Many of the supporting characters including Dorothea’s uncle, Sir James, and her sister Celia think Dorothea is making a terrible mistake. Nevertheless, by the end of Book One, she “had become Mrs. Casaubon, and was on her way to Rome” (Eliot 60).
It is also on page 60 that we meet Rosamond Vincy, who is the traditional beauty of the story. In manner, character, and appearance, Rosamond is Dorothea’s diametric opposite. In fact, at a dinner party to announce and celebrate Dorothea’s engagement, many of the men, whether married or not, compared the beauty and talents of these two women and how they appeal to each man’s desires. Rosamond is more refined than Dorothea, but she has an equally elevated taste in her preference of men. While the standards for Rosamond’s future husband are different than Dorothea’s, they are equally unattainable for most men.
George Eliot has been harshly criticized because of the resolve of her characters. Most often critiqued are the manner in which her female heroes resolve their issues. Eliot, Siegel explains, often “resolve[s] her heroines’ life crises with marriage” is seen as “fidelity to the truth of ordinary women’s lives” (Siegel 1). It seems that while now it is mostly accepted that Eliot’s realistic approach to relationships and marriage, as contrasted with Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, is a fair representation for the way life was for women in the nineteenth century, many feminist critics cannot accept Dorothea as a strong female representation of a hero.
What makes Dorothea such a strong female hero during Book One is her desire to stick with the qualities that make a man great to her. She wants to marry a learned man from whom she can learn. The reaction to her decision to marry the older, less attractive, less wealthy Mr. Casaubon illuminates the expectations and social values of a husband of the society in which she lives. Valuing the knowledge and religious preferences of a potential husband over possible social status illuminates, as Grosz says, causes the patriarchal assumptions of the time to become visible.
In “The Key to Epic Life?: Classical Study in George Eliot’s Middlemarch,” Hilary Mackie questions the representation of Dorothea in the Prelude and evaluates what should make an epic, with regard to classical literature, life. Mackie’s hypothesis is, “Within the fiction of the novel, however, we see Dorothea and other characters try in various ways, but fail, to make sense of their lives through the study, employment, or imitation of classical models” (Mackie 53). What the author is missing is that Dorothea is not trying to imitate the life of some past saint, but she is trying to live up to her own ideal; morality is her way to live an epic- beyond any classical literary conventions- life.
The morality of Dorothea and the Prelude has also been debated in the field of philosophy. With regard to Middlemarch being an example of a morality tale, philosophers debate the role of fiction in shaping the society in which it is published. Rohan Maitzen answers Martha Nussbaum’s critique of Eliot’s novel by applying Nussbaum’s own criteria to the novel to prove it is an exemplary illustration of how fiction can contribute to philosophy by answering the question, “How should one live?”
The role of the novel in philosophy means that “the novel may share generic features which compliment or correct conventional philosophical discourse” (Maitzen 191). The terms Nussbaum set for the ethical evaluation of fiction include:
1. Analysis of the text’s literary properties
2. Every aspect of form and style expresses a sense of life and of value, a sense of what matters and what does not
3. Discovers this “sense of life” through close reading the engaged experience line by line
4. Reveals the character of the implied author, the would be friend urging us on a particular ‘pattern of desire’ (Maitzen 191).
Nussbaum bashes Eliot and Middlemarch in comparison with Henry James’ work, but Maitzen spends half of her essay showing that Nussbaum’s biases have elevated James beyond a fair evaluation of what a moral novel is.
When she moves on to evaluating Eliot’s novel, Maitzen shows that the Prelude outlines with “clarity, precision, and quiet confidence of the erudite narrator” (Maitzen 197) what the tale will be. Maitzen explains that the narrator possesses knowledge to interpret the story and life of St. Theresa as well as explain the significance of St. Theresa’s life to the modern audience. Clearly exhibited in the Prelude is the sense of life Eliot is going to describe; Maitzen says, “What is important and what is not in this fictional world” is the history of man (198). By using grand language, Eliot “encourages us to admire their idealistic plan and to lament the practical limits of domestic reality,” and also suggests “that it was worthy of epic treatment” (Maitzen 198).
Middlemarch and its history are full of controversy and debate about its validity as both a feminist and moral story. Never have I read a story about which critics are so conflicted. Without consensus, the novel proves to stand alone as a great work of literature that comments on social norms, feminist ideals, the value of virtues, and the life and times of women in the nineteenth century.
Works Cited
Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia. “The Victorian Age.” Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia
2005. http://www.infoplease.com/ce6/ent/A0858005.html 28 Feb. 2010.
Eliot, George. Middlemarch. Ed. Bert G. Hornback. Norton: New York. 2000.
Mackie, Hilary. “The Key to Epic Life?: Classical Study in George Eliot's Middlemarch.”
Classical World 2009. 103:1. 53-67.
http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2146/journals/classical_world/v103/103.1.mackie.pdf 27
Feb. 2010.
Maitzen, Rohan. “Martha Nussbaum and the Moral Life of Middlemarch.” Philosophy and
Literature 2006. 30. 190-207.
Siegel, Carol. “This thing I like my sister may not do': Shakespearean Erotics and a Clash of
Wills in Middlemarch.” Style. Spring98: 32, 1. Academic Search Premier.
http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2060/ehost/detail?vid=4&hid=103&sid=94177b8b-be7b-4637ac17d5227a7c34@sessionmgr111&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ%3d%3d#db=aph&AN=1516862 28 Feb. 2010
Watt, Ian. “The Reading Public and the Rise of the Novel.” The Rise of the Novel. Penguin:
Victoria 1963. 36-41.
Promise, Limitation, and Female Voices in Middlemarch
George Eliot presents glimpses into the private and public lives of several women and their thought processes in Middlemarch. Each woman uniquely represents something feminist, whether it is her desire to stick with her principles, exercise her free will, or outwardly represent the perfect model of modern, contemporary womanly attributes. Mary Garth, Dorothea (Brooke) Casaubon, and Rosamond (Vincy) Lydgate all express themselves as a strong female presence in relation to others, especially with regard to the threat or hint of a promise. Their perspectives regarding the meaning of a promise and how they act in accordance with promises shape their roles in public life.
Women long for what the same things men desire. Mostly, the immediate world available to women of the nineteenth century does not proffer these desires, and some women hope to find people who will guide them along their path to acquiring these desires. For Dorothea, in the beginning of the novel, she sought to marry a man who would help her grow intellectually and spiritually. What Dorothea found in Casaubon however was a man who was desperate to cling to her, unwilling to let her grow for fear that she was growing away from him. In a sense, Casaubon pushed Dorothea away with his stubbornness and lack of understanding (Thomas 392).
Rosamond and Mary also have desires. Rosamond desires her perfect man to be someone who will take her away from dull Middlemarch and her life as a merchant’s daughter. She also marries who she perceives to be the perfect man, but she unwittingly traps herself in Middlemarch by the way in which she acts toward him. Mary loves a man she knows is not perfect, and to him, Mary represents a muse, savior, and perfection. She is his reason for trying to change even though he fails.
All of these women interact and make promises with the people in their lives. Melissa Ganz, a Stanford professor with a PhD and a JD whose focus is analyzing the role of laws in English literature (IHUM), explains the history and evolution of “promise” and relates the various ways Eliot uses the promise in her novels in her article “Binding the Will”. Ganz explains that “promises give rise to repeated conflicts and misunderstandings, crystallizing tension between freedom and obligation” (Ganz 565). Ganz states that in Middlemarch, disputes occur in two ways. First, “egoists attempt to pressure others into making promises that require them to act in self-defeating ways” (Ganz 565). The second way in which conflicts arise with regard to promises are shaped around people refusing to acknowledge and honor their own commitments, “evincing a complete disregard for the ways in which other people construe their words and actions” (Ganz 565). Both of these types of dispute share the foundational problems of an abuse of will and disregard for other people’s perceptions and emotions.
The tensions caused because of promises shown in Middlemarch reflected an important social change because the role of promises and their function in both the private and public worlds was shifting. At the time George Eliot was writing Middlemarch, the role of the promise was being heavily discussed in philosophical and law settings. In the early eighteenth century, a promise was considered naturally derived from an individual’s will, reflecting intent. At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, the view toward promises changed; promises became “commitments people freely and deliberately made” (Ganz 565).
Contract law at this time was rising in popularity, partially because of the change in the nature of the promise. The definition of a promise changed rapidly from the natural extension of one’s being and intention to mere words that could be disregarded in law suits if the parties did not share the same idea of terms or definitions. Ultimately, according to Ganz, Eliot takes the stance that promises are extremely important in interpersonal relationships, and disregarding them can detrimental. Ganz states, “Eliot embraces an expansive conception of promises. She suggests that one becomes bound by a promise when a person knowingly excites another’s expectations concerning the existence of obligation, even when one does not intend to become bound” (566). While the promise may not have been legally binding, Eliot demonstrated that the merit of promises made was equivalent to the person who made them; promises were considered a measure of trustworthiness, follow-through, and moral character.
Edward Casaubon, an egoist, attempted to bind his wife’s will and control her after his death by the use of promises. Without telling Dorothea what he wanted her to bind herself to, Casaubon exercised his status as her husband in a vain attempt to illicit her response. Dorothea told her husband she did not think it right “to make a promise when [she is] ignorant to what it binds [her] to” (Eliot 296). In reply to this, Casaubon challenges her by saying, “But you would use your own judgment: I ask you to obey mine; you refuse” (Eliot 296). He attempts to control his wife by using her chosen position of subservience to him in order to limit her choices while she is still alive knowing the value they both attribute to a promise, especially one made to a deceased person while he or she is still living.
Promises are acknowledged as having the power to improve relationships and strengthen personal accountability as long as a person can limit one’s own desires. Rosamond is an egoist like Casaubon, and she also uses promises as a means of getting her desires met. She tries to use the role of the promise, that it creates positive, strong relationship ties, to entice other people to make promises to her. In her refusal to take personal responsibility, Rosamond inadvertently aids in the destruction of the communication in her marriage. By telling Lydgate to promise her things, she forces him to make promises to others he cannot keep. These promises include paying for their house, which he knew he couldn’t afford, as well as furniture for the house. In the hope of making his wife happy, Lydgate ruins his name and tarnishes his already-questionable reputation (Ganz 578-580, Eliot).
Promises are ultimately shown as being valued and important. They are seen as a social norm maintained through the Garths and others in the town while their weight expressed through Dorothea as well as Mary Garth’s and Fred Vincy’s relationship. Dorothea chooses to not make any promises that will compromise her own free will. This is especially true after she sees her marriage to Casaubon as a mistake; this revelation came with the understanding that she had idealized her husband and realized his stubbornness had stunted his development as a scholar, writer, and husband. Even when she chose to marry Edward Casaubon, however, it was in accordance with her own will and not the will of those around her.
Mary Garth, like Dorothea, also acts in accordance with her free will. Her life revolves around her duty to her family. She works so she can support herself and help when she needs to. When Mr. Featherstone, on his deathbed, tries to bribe her to burn the latest will, she refuses. She refuses the money he offers her and refuses his wishes. With regard to her duty and her future, Mary made two promises with Fred. The first was that she would never marry him if he became a priest. She also tells Fred Vincy she will refuse his proposal of marriage until he becomes respectable in the eyes of the community. This was a conditional promise given to Fred but solely based on his own actions and decisions. While it inspired Fred, it did not empower him to try
The characteristics of Dorothea, Rosamond, and Mary have been scrutinized for over a century. Many scholars wonder why Mary Ann Evans, better known as George Eliot, created these female characters. Some feminist critics say their lives show, realistically, the options available to women during the late nineteenth century with regard to marriage and status. Others criticize Eliot for the limitations she placed on these women. Some extremists castigate Eliot for the vast differences of personal freedom when comparing her own life to the limited options available to her characters.
Works Cited
Eliot, George. Middlemarch. Ed. Bert G. Hornback. New York: Norton 2000.
Ganz, Melissa J. “Binding the Will: George Eliot and the Promise of Practicing” ELH 75: 3
2008 565-602. Project MUSE http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2146/journals/elh/v075/75.3.ganz.pdf 08 March 2010.
IHUM. http://www.stanford.edu/dept/undergrad/ihum/fellows/bios/ganz.html 08 March 2010.
Thomas, Jeanie G. “An Inconvenient Indefiniteness: George Eliot, Middlemarch, and
Feminism.” University of Toronto Quarterly 56:3 1987 392-415. EBSCO Host
http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2060/ehost/pdf?vid=3&hid=113&sid=c7c0b8a3-ad09-4e3c-b8df-391015b0baa2@sessionmgr111 08 March 2010.
Women long for what the same things men desire. Mostly, the immediate world available to women of the nineteenth century does not proffer these desires, and some women hope to find people who will guide them along their path to acquiring these desires. For Dorothea, in the beginning of the novel, she sought to marry a man who would help her grow intellectually and spiritually. What Dorothea found in Casaubon however was a man who was desperate to cling to her, unwilling to let her grow for fear that she was growing away from him. In a sense, Casaubon pushed Dorothea away with his stubbornness and lack of understanding (Thomas 392).
Rosamond and Mary also have desires. Rosamond desires her perfect man to be someone who will take her away from dull Middlemarch and her life as a merchant’s daughter. She also marries who she perceives to be the perfect man, but she unwittingly traps herself in Middlemarch by the way in which she acts toward him. Mary loves a man she knows is not perfect, and to him, Mary represents a muse, savior, and perfection. She is his reason for trying to change even though he fails.
All of these women interact and make promises with the people in their lives. Melissa Ganz, a Stanford professor with a PhD and a JD whose focus is analyzing the role of laws in English literature (IHUM), explains the history and evolution of “promise” and relates the various ways Eliot uses the promise in her novels in her article “Binding the Will”. Ganz explains that “promises give rise to repeated conflicts and misunderstandings, crystallizing tension between freedom and obligation” (Ganz 565). Ganz states that in Middlemarch, disputes occur in two ways. First, “egoists attempt to pressure others into making promises that require them to act in self-defeating ways” (Ganz 565). The second way in which conflicts arise with regard to promises are shaped around people refusing to acknowledge and honor their own commitments, “evincing a complete disregard for the ways in which other people construe their words and actions” (Ganz 565). Both of these types of dispute share the foundational problems of an abuse of will and disregard for other people’s perceptions and emotions.
The tensions caused because of promises shown in Middlemarch reflected an important social change because the role of promises and their function in both the private and public worlds was shifting. At the time George Eliot was writing Middlemarch, the role of the promise was being heavily discussed in philosophical and law settings. In the early eighteenth century, a promise was considered naturally derived from an individual’s will, reflecting intent. At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, the view toward promises changed; promises became “commitments people freely and deliberately made” (Ganz 565).
Contract law at this time was rising in popularity, partially because of the change in the nature of the promise. The definition of a promise changed rapidly from the natural extension of one’s being and intention to mere words that could be disregarded in law suits if the parties did not share the same idea of terms or definitions. Ultimately, according to Ganz, Eliot takes the stance that promises are extremely important in interpersonal relationships, and disregarding them can detrimental. Ganz states, “Eliot embraces an expansive conception of promises. She suggests that one becomes bound by a promise when a person knowingly excites another’s expectations concerning the existence of obligation, even when one does not intend to become bound” (566). While the promise may not have been legally binding, Eliot demonstrated that the merit of promises made was equivalent to the person who made them; promises were considered a measure of trustworthiness, follow-through, and moral character.
Edward Casaubon, an egoist, attempted to bind his wife’s will and control her after his death by the use of promises. Without telling Dorothea what he wanted her to bind herself to, Casaubon exercised his status as her husband in a vain attempt to illicit her response. Dorothea told her husband she did not think it right “to make a promise when [she is] ignorant to what it binds [her] to” (Eliot 296). In reply to this, Casaubon challenges her by saying, “But you would use your own judgment: I ask you to obey mine; you refuse” (Eliot 296). He attempts to control his wife by using her chosen position of subservience to him in order to limit her choices while she is still alive knowing the value they both attribute to a promise, especially one made to a deceased person while he or she is still living.
Promises are acknowledged as having the power to improve relationships and strengthen personal accountability as long as a person can limit one’s own desires. Rosamond is an egoist like Casaubon, and she also uses promises as a means of getting her desires met. She tries to use the role of the promise, that it creates positive, strong relationship ties, to entice other people to make promises to her. In her refusal to take personal responsibility, Rosamond inadvertently aids in the destruction of the communication in her marriage. By telling Lydgate to promise her things, she forces him to make promises to others he cannot keep. These promises include paying for their house, which he knew he couldn’t afford, as well as furniture for the house. In the hope of making his wife happy, Lydgate ruins his name and tarnishes his already-questionable reputation (Ganz 578-580, Eliot).
Promises are ultimately shown as being valued and important. They are seen as a social norm maintained through the Garths and others in the town while their weight expressed through Dorothea as well as Mary Garth’s and Fred Vincy’s relationship. Dorothea chooses to not make any promises that will compromise her own free will. This is especially true after she sees her marriage to Casaubon as a mistake; this revelation came with the understanding that she had idealized her husband and realized his stubbornness had stunted his development as a scholar, writer, and husband. Even when she chose to marry Edward Casaubon, however, it was in accordance with her own will and not the will of those around her.
Mary Garth, like Dorothea, also acts in accordance with her free will. Her life revolves around her duty to her family. She works so she can support herself and help when she needs to. When Mr. Featherstone, on his deathbed, tries to bribe her to burn the latest will, she refuses. She refuses the money he offers her and refuses his wishes. With regard to her duty and her future, Mary made two promises with Fred. The first was that she would never marry him if he became a priest. She also tells Fred Vincy she will refuse his proposal of marriage until he becomes respectable in the eyes of the community. This was a conditional promise given to Fred but solely based on his own actions and decisions. While it inspired Fred, it did not empower him to try
The characteristics of Dorothea, Rosamond, and Mary have been scrutinized for over a century. Many scholars wonder why Mary Ann Evans, better known as George Eliot, created these female characters. Some feminist critics say their lives show, realistically, the options available to women during the late nineteenth century with regard to marriage and status. Others criticize Eliot for the limitations she placed on these women. Some extremists castigate Eliot for the vast differences of personal freedom when comparing her own life to the limited options available to her characters.
Works Cited
Eliot, George. Middlemarch. Ed. Bert G. Hornback. New York: Norton 2000.
Ganz, Melissa J. “Binding the Will: George Eliot and the Promise of Practicing” ELH 75: 3
2008 565-602. Project MUSE http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2146/journals/elh/v075/75.3.ganz.pdf 08 March 2010.
IHUM. http://www.stanford.edu/dept/undergrad/ihum/fellows/bios/ganz.html 08 March 2010.
Thomas, Jeanie G. “An Inconvenient Indefiniteness: George Eliot, Middlemarch, and
Feminism.” University of Toronto Quarterly 56:3 1987 392-415. EBSCO Host
http://cletus.uhh.hawaii.edu:2060/ehost/pdf?vid=3&hid=113&sid=c7c0b8a3-ad09-4e3c-b8df-391015b0baa2@sessionmgr111 08 March 2010.
Madame Bovary: Realism or Allegory?
Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary was a work that depicted the banal life of Emma Bovary after her marriage to Charles. When the novel was released, it received both positive and negative criticism. The critics who attacked the novel did so mostly for the element and amount of realism in the novel, and most of these critics considered the novel as a whole to be a work that was politically subversive in an attempt to promote democracy (De Man 2005). The novel was eventually taken to trial, and Flaubert was found innocent of charges of “outrage to public morals” (Culler 685). Debates over the amount of realism and the deeper meaning of the story are still debated today.
Debates regarding the context of the novel continue today. The two most recent perspectives for criticism stem from historical and feminist points of view. The feminist perspectives focus on Emma’s confinement and restriction to the bourgeoisie class and patriarchal society. We can conclude from the language used and the situations described that the narrator is a man.
Even before Charles met Emma, she was beginning to lose touch with real life. Emma was taken by the romantic stories of the outcast woman in the convent. Her actions and behaviors, being constantly distracted by fantasies of love and romance, caused her expulsion from the convent, a life she longed for after her marriage. The narrator explains, “Before marriage [Emma] thought herself in love; but since the happiness that should have followed failed to come, she must, she thought, have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what one meant exactly in life by the words bliss, passion, ecstasy, that had seemed so beautiful in her books” (Flaubert 30).
The story is framed by Charles’s life. The reader is introduced to Charles at the age of twelve, when he first attends grammar school. He has a difficult time speaking and is made fun of by his peers. His father is gruff and abusive while his mother is passive and puts up with the philandering and lack of love he expresses toward his child and wife. The trials Charles endures with medical school and his first wife only add insult to Emma’s behavior in public, especially with other men, when the narrator expresses Charles’ ultimate devotion and happiness with his wife. He only wants to make her happy.
From these traits and evidence, we can conclude the text is partially satirical in nature. Flaubert mocks the idleness of the bourgeoisie class and warns that people must remain cautious; people should pay attention to their own lives and actions and not the actions of others. In doing so, Emma compares herself to those economically superior to her with the disastrous effect of becoming even more depressed and dissatisfied with her life, her husband, and her new role as mother.
Many critics today still claim the realistic validity of Madame Bovary. In a recent edition of MLN, Jonathan Culler defends the novel’s realistic validity, but he utterly ignores the satirical elements of the text. Culler focuses his essay on drawing connections which may or may not correlate with real life events. Culler explains that events and characters in the novel are realistic. Because it can be believed that people can resemble Emma Bovary, some people in villages became local celebrities after killing themselves with arsenic, and financial ruin befell many people, the novel is the utmost epitome of realistic fiction (Culler 685).
The trial of the novel is the basis of evidence for of Culler’s argument. He raises the valid point to consider when reading the novel; Culler asks if the real story told in the novel is the depiction of the real world at its worst or the autotelic- self-contained and having the purpose for its existence in its being- structure with an absent structure. Culler goes on to rely on the trial result for his answer. Culler states, “Prosecution interpreted the book as a realistic representation of our world, in which certain statements about marriage, adultery, and Marie Antoinette should be censured, and the representations blamed for offering no positive images of reality, i.e. a too direct or not idealized representation” (686-687). From this, Culler draws the conclusion that realism is the opposite of idealism, which was the foundation of the prosecution’s case.
Barbara Vinken, in the same 2007 issue of MLN, said that the story Gustave Flaubert wrote was not an example of realism at all. Instead, the novel represents a complex allegory for spiritual nourishment. Vinken explains that the indulgences Emma Bovary and others engage in are poor substitutes for the lack of spiritual nourishment in each individual’s life. Vinken explains that the text should be seen as aesthetic rather than realistic, and her thesis is:
“Aesthetic offers no compensation for the loss of the promise of salvation, and is
therefore not to be understood as a phenomenon of salvation. Aesthethetics is rather the
outcome of an insatiable desire for god, misdirected towards the world, finding expression in fetish and in drugs. In the end, this longing for transcended salvation is not compensated by aesthetics, but rather destructively betrayed (760).
She further argues that the realism of the novel is not revealing lust to the audience, but the realism of the novel is only the “result of the desire for god gone astray” and that Emma’s “carnal devotion to the world” and final poisoning are only more evidence for the lack of spiritual fulfillment in Emma’s life (765).
While Vinken does make strong connections about Emma’s desire to use things and her desperate need to feel the way aesthetic and indulgent objects of passion express, and spirituality is an important component to realistic happiness, the direct link to god is a bit forced. Emma displays a strong need to fill a void, but that void is internal happiness and a sense of purpose in her life. In the third chapter of Book Two, the narrator describes her feelings toward the life of women in the nineteenth century. The narrator explains, “A man, at least, is free; he can explore all passions and all countries, overcome obstacles, taste of the most distant pleasures. But a woman is always hampered. Being inert as well as pliable, she has against her the weakness of the flesh and the inequity of the law” (Flaubert 74).
Emma, like many people Vinken’s essay ignores by linking directly to faith in god, just wants to be able to live a big life of adventure that she can choose on her own. She desires freedom to get to know herself and what will make her happy; in the trials she would have been able to overcome if she were a man, Emma may have been able to develop her own spiritual connection or at least fill the void in her life caused by romance and wonder.
Work Cited
Culler, Jonathan. “The Realism of Madame Bovary.” MLN 122 (2007): 683–696.
De Man, Paul. “Contemporary Critical Reception of Madame Bovary.” Ed. Paul De Man.
Madame Bovary New York: Norton 2005. 391.
Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary. New York: Norton 2005.
Vinken, Barbara. “Loving, Reading, and Eating: The Passion of Madame Bovary.” MLN 122
(2007): 759–778.
Debates regarding the context of the novel continue today. The two most recent perspectives for criticism stem from historical and feminist points of view. The feminist perspectives focus on Emma’s confinement and restriction to the bourgeoisie class and patriarchal society. We can conclude from the language used and the situations described that the narrator is a man.
Even before Charles met Emma, she was beginning to lose touch with real life. Emma was taken by the romantic stories of the outcast woman in the convent. Her actions and behaviors, being constantly distracted by fantasies of love and romance, caused her expulsion from the convent, a life she longed for after her marriage. The narrator explains, “Before marriage [Emma] thought herself in love; but since the happiness that should have followed failed to come, she must, she thought, have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what one meant exactly in life by the words bliss, passion, ecstasy, that had seemed so beautiful in her books” (Flaubert 30).
The story is framed by Charles’s life. The reader is introduced to Charles at the age of twelve, when he first attends grammar school. He has a difficult time speaking and is made fun of by his peers. His father is gruff and abusive while his mother is passive and puts up with the philandering and lack of love he expresses toward his child and wife. The trials Charles endures with medical school and his first wife only add insult to Emma’s behavior in public, especially with other men, when the narrator expresses Charles’ ultimate devotion and happiness with his wife. He only wants to make her happy.
From these traits and evidence, we can conclude the text is partially satirical in nature. Flaubert mocks the idleness of the bourgeoisie class and warns that people must remain cautious; people should pay attention to their own lives and actions and not the actions of others. In doing so, Emma compares herself to those economically superior to her with the disastrous effect of becoming even more depressed and dissatisfied with her life, her husband, and her new role as mother.
Many critics today still claim the realistic validity of Madame Bovary. In a recent edition of MLN, Jonathan Culler defends the novel’s realistic validity, but he utterly ignores the satirical elements of the text. Culler focuses his essay on drawing connections which may or may not correlate with real life events. Culler explains that events and characters in the novel are realistic. Because it can be believed that people can resemble Emma Bovary, some people in villages became local celebrities after killing themselves with arsenic, and financial ruin befell many people, the novel is the utmost epitome of realistic fiction (Culler 685).
The trial of the novel is the basis of evidence for of Culler’s argument. He raises the valid point to consider when reading the novel; Culler asks if the real story told in the novel is the depiction of the real world at its worst or the autotelic- self-contained and having the purpose for its existence in its being- structure with an absent structure. Culler goes on to rely on the trial result for his answer. Culler states, “Prosecution interpreted the book as a realistic representation of our world, in which certain statements about marriage, adultery, and Marie Antoinette should be censured, and the representations blamed for offering no positive images of reality, i.e. a too direct or not idealized representation” (686-687). From this, Culler draws the conclusion that realism is the opposite of idealism, which was the foundation of the prosecution’s case.
Barbara Vinken, in the same 2007 issue of MLN, said that the story Gustave Flaubert wrote was not an example of realism at all. Instead, the novel represents a complex allegory for spiritual nourishment. Vinken explains that the indulgences Emma Bovary and others engage in are poor substitutes for the lack of spiritual nourishment in each individual’s life. Vinken explains that the text should be seen as aesthetic rather than realistic, and her thesis is:
“Aesthetic offers no compensation for the loss of the promise of salvation, and is
therefore not to be understood as a phenomenon of salvation. Aesthethetics is rather the
outcome of an insatiable desire for god, misdirected towards the world, finding expression in fetish and in drugs. In the end, this longing for transcended salvation is not compensated by aesthetics, but rather destructively betrayed (760).
She further argues that the realism of the novel is not revealing lust to the audience, but the realism of the novel is only the “result of the desire for god gone astray” and that Emma’s “carnal devotion to the world” and final poisoning are only more evidence for the lack of spiritual fulfillment in Emma’s life (765).
While Vinken does make strong connections about Emma’s desire to use things and her desperate need to feel the way aesthetic and indulgent objects of passion express, and spirituality is an important component to realistic happiness, the direct link to god is a bit forced. Emma displays a strong need to fill a void, but that void is internal happiness and a sense of purpose in her life. In the third chapter of Book Two, the narrator describes her feelings toward the life of women in the nineteenth century. The narrator explains, “A man, at least, is free; he can explore all passions and all countries, overcome obstacles, taste of the most distant pleasures. But a woman is always hampered. Being inert as well as pliable, she has against her the weakness of the flesh and the inequity of the law” (Flaubert 74).
Emma, like many people Vinken’s essay ignores by linking directly to faith in god, just wants to be able to live a big life of adventure that she can choose on her own. She desires freedom to get to know herself and what will make her happy; in the trials she would have been able to overcome if she were a man, Emma may have been able to develop her own spiritual connection or at least fill the void in her life caused by romance and wonder.
Work Cited
Culler, Jonathan. “The Realism of Madame Bovary.” MLN 122 (2007): 683–696.
De Man, Paul. “Contemporary Critical Reception of Madame Bovary.” Ed. Paul De Man.
Madame Bovary New York: Norton 2005. 391.
Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary. New York: Norton 2005.
Vinken, Barbara. “Loving, Reading, and Eating: The Passion of Madame Bovary.” MLN 122
(2007): 759–778.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
background knowledge to Phaedrus
If you ever get a chance, read his Republic. One of my majors as an undergrad was philosophy, so I've read him over and over again, so much so that some things have just become common knowledge.
In Republic, he outlines what he feels are the necessary traits for maintaining a long-lasting, successful society. He was very extreme. He felt all children should be removed from their homes after birth and raised collectively by society so none got shown favoritism, but were instead given professions based on their knowledge, skill, and merit. Plato also felt the arts were a distraction that did not contribute to society or to personal attainment of the Good. His world would be very serious.
To understand his view of the arts, you would have to know his view of the world. He saw there were two distinct realms; there was the world of the Forms and the Real World of man. The world of the Forms is the place where things are the ideal, ultimate versions of themselves. These versions are The Way Things Really Are. In our Real World, things Are as They Appear. They are not true in themselves, but imperfect copies of the forms. Because art is made by man, which is an imperfect copy of the concept of Man, it is a bastardization of whatever it is attempting to portray. Things in our world are once-removed from the world of the forms, but art- created by us and our imaginations- is twice-removed.
Plato may have felt this way because he interacted with many "learned" men and decided they knew nothing. Ultimately though, he feels that art is not a form of "remembering" the world of the forms, but it is something people just make up.
In Republic, he outlines what he feels are the necessary traits for maintaining a long-lasting, successful society. He was very extreme. He felt all children should be removed from their homes after birth and raised collectively by society so none got shown favoritism, but were instead given professions based on their knowledge, skill, and merit. Plato also felt the arts were a distraction that did not contribute to society or to personal attainment of the Good. His world would be very serious.
To understand his view of the arts, you would have to know his view of the world. He saw there were two distinct realms; there was the world of the Forms and the Real World of man. The world of the Forms is the place where things are the ideal, ultimate versions of themselves. These versions are The Way Things Really Are. In our Real World, things Are as They Appear. They are not true in themselves, but imperfect copies of the forms. Because art is made by man, which is an imperfect copy of the concept of Man, it is a bastardization of whatever it is attempting to portray. Things in our world are once-removed from the world of the forms, but art- created by us and our imaginations- is twice-removed.
Plato may have felt this way because he interacted with many "learned" men and decided they knew nothing. Ultimately though, he feels that art is not a form of "remembering" the world of the forms, but it is something people just make up.
Plato's Phaedrus
Writing and painting are alike in that Plato felt no good could come from the production or study of either. In Phaedrus, this view of writing and art is expressed when Socrates says, “You’d think [written words] were speaking as if they had some understanding, but if you question anything that has been said because you want to learn more, it continues to signify that very same thing forever” (82 [end 275]). Socrates goes on to explain that the offspring of art and writing- the individual pieces, representations, or stories- cannot explain or defend themselves, support their own validity, or know who they should or should not engage. Plato introduces his low opinion of writing by exclaiming that the written word is just a tool for reminding, which only creates the illusion of wisdom but not the reality of it.
The illusion of wisdom created by writing and the arts makes interactions between people very difficult as each person will have their own perceptions and criteria of what makes a person falsely wise. In his ideal republic, Plato felt that the arts were an unnecessary distraction that would take away from the success of the society. Plato felt that everyone needed to intensely focus on their tasks and studies at all times to remember as much as one could about the world of the Forms. The arts were an obstacle to remembering Truth, the Good, etc. He expresses this via Socrates several times. The difference between writing and speech is pointed out as “the difference between dream-image and the reality of what is just and unjust, good and bad” (84 [mid 277]). This opinion is previously introduced when Socrates asks Phaedrus for a legitimate discourse. This legitimate discourse, the one that can be engaged discerningly, provide new knowledge when questions are asked, and support as well as defend its positions, is speech.
Speech is secondary to writing because a learned man can discern the appropriateness of his words and when to use them. Writing, according to Plato, is for one’s own amusement and to remind the author of some event later in life when memory is deteriorating. Plato, via Socrates, expresses the best method of working through discourse is the dialectic, which is a logical argument between two people to analyze and test theories. Via Socrates, Plato says, “The dialectician chooses a proper soul and plants and sow within it discourse accompanied by knowledge- discourse capable of helping itself as well as the man who planted it [277], which is not barren but produces a seed from which more discourse grows in the character of others” (83). Apparently, this seed of knowledge can only be passed on via speech, according to Plato.
People who write and recite do so, according to Plato, to produce conviction and have not imparted any type of knowledge into any souls. Via Socrates, Plato expresses that philosophers- lovers of wisdom- recognize the important differences between speech and the written word and value speech as discourse above the other. Socrates says, “…if a man has nothing more valuable than what he has composed or written…wouldn’t you be right to call him a poet or a speech writer or an author of laws?” (85 [end 278]). All poets, lovers, and madmen are grouped together because they write, according to Plato, without “the knowledge of the truth” (84 [mid 278). These people, as well as politicians, consider writing to be the thing they are pursuing instead of the thing itself; therefore, they write to convey a meaning rather than for amusement.
Issues I have with the Phaedrus:
1. It’s written. How serious does Plato expect to be taken when he is writing about trying to discredit writing?
2. The analogy about the farmer and the man who knows what is good, noble, and just (pg 83). Plato expresses over and over again via Socrates that we cannot know these concepts in their true Form. Why would he call them into his argument? He expresses that we can remember the world of the Forms and what concepts are in their true Form, but we cannot embody them. This must be an argument closer to his Politics than to The Death of Socrates.
3. Plato writes using the dialectic. Granted, it is a static argument, but it is in the form of the dialectic. Through this dialog, which is written in the form of a dialectic argument, I am getting new ideas and sharing them with my classmates.
Works Cited
Plato. “Phaedrus.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch. Norton: New
York 2001. 81-85.
The illusion of wisdom created by writing and the arts makes interactions between people very difficult as each person will have their own perceptions and criteria of what makes a person falsely wise. In his ideal republic, Plato felt that the arts were an unnecessary distraction that would take away from the success of the society. Plato felt that everyone needed to intensely focus on their tasks and studies at all times to remember as much as one could about the world of the Forms. The arts were an obstacle to remembering Truth, the Good, etc. He expresses this via Socrates several times. The difference between writing and speech is pointed out as “the difference between dream-image and the reality of what is just and unjust, good and bad” (84 [mid 277]). This opinion is previously introduced when Socrates asks Phaedrus for a legitimate discourse. This legitimate discourse, the one that can be engaged discerningly, provide new knowledge when questions are asked, and support as well as defend its positions, is speech.
Speech is secondary to writing because a learned man can discern the appropriateness of his words and when to use them. Writing, according to Plato, is for one’s own amusement and to remind the author of some event later in life when memory is deteriorating. Plato, via Socrates, expresses the best method of working through discourse is the dialectic, which is a logical argument between two people to analyze and test theories. Via Socrates, Plato says, “The dialectician chooses a proper soul and plants and sow within it discourse accompanied by knowledge- discourse capable of helping itself as well as the man who planted it [277], which is not barren but produces a seed from which more discourse grows in the character of others” (83). Apparently, this seed of knowledge can only be passed on via speech, according to Plato.
People who write and recite do so, according to Plato, to produce conviction and have not imparted any type of knowledge into any souls. Via Socrates, Plato expresses that philosophers- lovers of wisdom- recognize the important differences between speech and the written word and value speech as discourse above the other. Socrates says, “…if a man has nothing more valuable than what he has composed or written…wouldn’t you be right to call him a poet or a speech writer or an author of laws?” (85 [end 278]). All poets, lovers, and madmen are grouped together because they write, according to Plato, without “the knowledge of the truth” (84 [mid 278). These people, as well as politicians, consider writing to be the thing they are pursuing instead of the thing itself; therefore, they write to convey a meaning rather than for amusement.
Issues I have with the Phaedrus:
1. It’s written. How serious does Plato expect to be taken when he is writing about trying to discredit writing?
2. The analogy about the farmer and the man who knows what is good, noble, and just (pg 83). Plato expresses over and over again via Socrates that we cannot know these concepts in their true Form. Why would he call them into his argument? He expresses that we can remember the world of the Forms and what concepts are in their true Form, but we cannot embody them. This must be an argument closer to his Politics than to The Death of Socrates.
3. Plato writes using the dialectic. Granted, it is a static argument, but it is in the form of the dialectic. Through this dialog, which is written in the form of a dialectic argument, I am getting new ideas and sharing them with my classmates.
Works Cited
Plato. “Phaedrus.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch. Norton: New
York 2001. 81-85.
LOST (after the first viewing)
LOST has meant so much to me since I discovered it in 2006 with Mercedes in my living room. It's the reason I started watching TV again, so I feel it's only fitting I write a blog about how I feel about the series finale. SPOILER ALERT: If you have not seen the finale, you may not want to continue.
I was so deeply disturbed by how the show ended, and I still am. I am trying to reconcile what the writers did with the meaning I had put into the final season. I didn't get to sleep till 4:00, and I woke up at 8:45. I dunno. There's a lot to handle, and I feel like I got broken up with or something.
I loved the flash sideways from the moment they first introduced it in January. Everything was beautiful. I loved the way people were remembering each other and their time on the island. It moved me. I really feel the writers cheapened the beauty by saying that they were dead in the flash sideways. It means in another world, these people would not have impacted each other's lives at all. Throughout the entire season, I understood that these people were finding each other; events were bringing them together, and they were fated to be in each other's lives. But that wasn't true.
When Jack said, "because I died too," I couldn't believe it. I felt hurt, betrayed, angry because the flash sideways was beautiful and moving. It meant something different to me than it turned out to be, and I'm still trying to reconcile it.
It was poetic that the show ended in the reverse of how it began. It was fitting that Vincent stayed with Jack this time. Its good to know that everyone but Hurley and Ben and Jack made it off the island, which is still there. Jack saved the island, dying for what he believed in. (Mark, I know you don't agree with this, and I'd love to hear why. I can see it both ways. Maybe everyone did die on the island, but that leaves Aaron an orphan too. I can totally see the plane taking off and them making it home to live long lives after. Christian tells Jack "many died before you and many long after." Jack wouldn't just imagine seeing the plane too before he closes his eyes for the final time. He died knowing that he saved the island, but that he also saved his friends, which were more important than the island to him.)
I just can't believe that it all meant nothing, the flash sideways....I never thought one conversation could impact me so much. I seriously don't know what to do now except buy the entire series and watch it over and over again until I become okay with the flash sideways ending. I mean, at least they weren't in a snow globe.
I was so deeply disturbed by how the show ended, and I still am. I am trying to reconcile what the writers did with the meaning I had put into the final season. I didn't get to sleep till 4:00, and I woke up at 8:45. I dunno. There's a lot to handle, and I feel like I got broken up with or something.
I loved the flash sideways from the moment they first introduced it in January. Everything was beautiful. I loved the way people were remembering each other and their time on the island. It moved me. I really feel the writers cheapened the beauty by saying that they were dead in the flash sideways. It means in another world, these people would not have impacted each other's lives at all. Throughout the entire season, I understood that these people were finding each other; events were bringing them together, and they were fated to be in each other's lives. But that wasn't true.
When Jack said, "because I died too," I couldn't believe it. I felt hurt, betrayed, angry because the flash sideways was beautiful and moving. It meant something different to me than it turned out to be, and I'm still trying to reconcile it.
It was poetic that the show ended in the reverse of how it began. It was fitting that Vincent stayed with Jack this time. Its good to know that everyone but Hurley and Ben and Jack made it off the island, which is still there. Jack saved the island, dying for what he believed in. (Mark, I know you don't agree with this, and I'd love to hear why. I can see it both ways. Maybe everyone did die on the island, but that leaves Aaron an orphan too. I can totally see the plane taking off and them making it home to live long lives after. Christian tells Jack "many died before you and many long after." Jack wouldn't just imagine seeing the plane too before he closes his eyes for the final time. He died knowing that he saved the island, but that he also saved his friends, which were more important than the island to him.)
I just can't believe that it all meant nothing, the flash sideways....I never thought one conversation could impact me so much. I seriously don't know what to do now except buy the entire series and watch it over and over again until I become okay with the flash sideways ending. I mean, at least they weren't in a snow globe.
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