This is not the same article as Hannah Cruze's - it actually has nothing in particular to do with The Knight of The Burning Pestle. Rather, it provides some useful terminology and background to understanding instrumentation and music in drama.
It does, of course, include references to specific plays which themselves reference particular instruments, and suggests historical meanings for why specific instruments or songs may have been chosen.
The article discusses what we so commonly see in Shakespeare and other plays in the stage directions - i.e. hautboy plays or loud music. It gives the general understanding of what this meant at the time. The most interesting thing to me, I think, is that some of these stage directions actually indicate a much greater use of music than what we might perceive them to mean today. I read somewhere else that it is quite possible that The Tempest was much more like a musical, in terms of how much music was played and sung during production, than a regular stage play at the time. It's not something that I could include in my paper, but I just found it super interesting.
Fitzgibbon, H. Macaulay. "Instruments and Their Music in the Elizabethan Drama." The Musical Quarterly 17.3 (Jul. 1931): 319-329. JSTOR. 4 May 2015.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Music in Elizabethan Private Theatres
This article, written by John Scott Colley and taken from The Yearbook of English Studies Vol. 4, offered useful background information on the reputation of private theatre music, and the difference between public and private music (a relevant topic in regards to the Knight of the Burning Pestle, by the way.)
An interesting section of the article talks about how "the new playwrights of the revitalized boys companies are said to have emphasized the singing and musical talents of their troupes because the children were unable to compete effectively with adult acting ability and adult stage presence" (62). This indicates that the focus in artistocratic or upper-class private theatres was, in fact, on singing and music, as opposed to acting.
I was reading somewhere else - I can't remember right now, but perhaps it was in Stephen Orgel's The Illusion of Power - that even the language used to describe theatre was more focused on the musicality rather than the physical performance itself. The words "audience" and "auditorium" indicate the favor placed on music over staging or acting. I just thought that was a fascinating point, and perhaps relevant to some future research of mine, because I was really interested in my topic this semester.
Colley, John Scott. "Music in the Elizabethan Private Theatres." The Yearbook of English Studies Vol. 4 (1974): 62-69. JSTOR. 10 May 2015.
"The Origins of European Thought"
In Richard Broxton Onians book, The Origins of European Thought About the Body, the Mind, the Soul, the World, Time, and Fate he discusses the complexity of Renaissance thinking and how some of their thoughts or concepts were connected or correlated with both Greek and Indian concepts.
The majority of the book focuses on Greek thought and he brings in many different Greek terms. He discusses passages of Homer to look at the Greek thought process and how their tales of the gods and the myths and legends played a major role in the structure of their society.
Chapter 12, titled, "Hindoo Conceptions of the Soul" discusses the process of sacrifice for the Hindu culture. It goes into detail about how the Hindu's held high regard for the soul and that the head was the most important part of any being. He discusses important details that were used in the Hindu culture in order to ensure that the head and the spirit were in the right commune for either a sacrifice, a child birth, or a death.
He also discusses the particulars of how a dead body was to be dealt with, whether they were cremated, buried, or left to be eaten by birds. He goes on further to discuss the feet and how they are important as well in the Indian culture and how that plays itself into the European thought.
He does not spend much time on the European aspects but briefly brushes over them so it is a little difficult to understand how these concepts work together.
The majority of the book focuses on Greek thought and he brings in many different Greek terms. He discusses passages of Homer to look at the Greek thought process and how their tales of the gods and the myths and legends played a major role in the structure of their society.
Chapter 12, titled, "Hindoo Conceptions of the Soul" discusses the process of sacrifice for the Hindu culture. It goes into detail about how the Hindu's held high regard for the soul and that the head was the most important part of any being. He discusses important details that were used in the Hindu culture in order to ensure that the head and the spirit were in the right commune for either a sacrifice, a child birth, or a death.
He also discusses the particulars of how a dead body was to be dealt with, whether they were cremated, buried, or left to be eaten by birds. He goes on further to discuss the feet and how they are important as well in the Indian culture and how that plays itself into the European thought.
He does not spend much time on the European aspects but briefly brushes over them so it is a little difficult to understand how these concepts work together.
"The Tempest and the Renaissance Idea of Man"
In James E. Phillips article, "The Tempest and the Renaissance Idea of Man", from Shakespeare Quarterly Phillips brings up the concept of the "tripartite", man having three stages within himself, in order to describe the relationship among Prospero, Ariel, and Caliban.
Phillips discusses that the "tripartite" is the three stages that make up man: Caliban, vegetative, Ariel, sensitive/supernatural, and Prospero, the rational side. The vegetative self, or the quickening of the soul, held the functions of "nourishment, growth, elimination, reproduction, and the other instinctive physiological process." It was used to supply the basic needs to the body. The sensitive/supernatural is where the emotional aspects of the person are held. There are moments of feeling, of imagination or fantasy or the feelings of passions and emotions. The third area of the tripartite was the rational soul. It was seen as the highest part of humanity. This third area is what separates humanity and uplifts it above everything else. It is where there is reason and will, it knows and wants to do good.
Phillips describes that when all three aspects of a human work together in harmony in the way that God intended them than life will be good and what God intended. But because of the fall and sin the body "short cuts itself" and the tripartite is unsuccessful. Reason is now in control of attempting to wrangle and keep both the vegetative and spiritual together and working together.
Phillips goes further to describe each section of the tripartite, Caliban, Ariel, and Prospero in further detail.
Phillips discusses that the "tripartite" is the three stages that make up man: Caliban, vegetative, Ariel, sensitive/supernatural, and Prospero, the rational side. The vegetative self, or the quickening of the soul, held the functions of "nourishment, growth, elimination, reproduction, and the other instinctive physiological process." It was used to supply the basic needs to the body. The sensitive/supernatural is where the emotional aspects of the person are held. There are moments of feeling, of imagination or fantasy or the feelings of passions and emotions. The third area of the tripartite was the rational soul. It was seen as the highest part of humanity. This third area is what separates humanity and uplifts it above everything else. It is where there is reason and will, it knows and wants to do good.
Phillips describes that when all three aspects of a human work together in harmony in the way that God intended them than life will be good and what God intended. But because of the fall and sin the body "short cuts itself" and the tripartite is unsuccessful. Reason is now in control of attempting to wrangle and keep both the vegetative and spiritual together and working together.
Phillips goes further to describe each section of the tripartite, Caliban, Ariel, and Prospero in further detail.
"Hamlet and Counter-Humanism"
In Ronald Knowles article, "Hamlet and Counter-Humanism" from Renaissance Quarterly he discusses Shakespeare's play Hamlet and through the lens of the human condition.
In the article Knowles discusses through five sections different ideas and concepts that are used in Hamlet. The first section, "Alexander Died" focuses on the question within the play. Sections two and three expand upon the "later Middle Ages, Humanism, and skepticism" and section four discusses the rhetoric that is used throughout the writing of the play. There is a fifth section present where he discusses role playing and how that affects Hamlet throughout his journey.
The main section that was the most useful to me was the second, titles, "The Goodly Frame". Within this section he discusses, specifically Act II Scene II where Hamlet, talking to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, looks at humanity as dust and seen as dust but how he contemplates that understanding by stating, "What a piece of work is a man" thus stating, and Knowles goes on to explore this idea, how much more complex humanity is than just dust. Knowles discusses that this concept and idea is holding both pessimism and optimism, macrocosm and microcosm, and humanism and skepticism. Because Hamlet questions this idea of man and what he is he goes into a deeper theological thought.
Knowles then goes onto explain older thinkers who were important to the development to the thought that Shakespeare is presenting through his character Hamlet. It discusses sin and man's separation from the divine and if that in anyway disrupts the small epiphany that Hamlet has within his monologue.
This was a very interesting article and can be found on JSTOR.
In the article Knowles discusses through five sections different ideas and concepts that are used in Hamlet. The first section, "Alexander Died" focuses on the question within the play. Sections two and three expand upon the "later Middle Ages, Humanism, and skepticism" and section four discusses the rhetoric that is used throughout the writing of the play. There is a fifth section present where he discusses role playing and how that affects Hamlet throughout his journey.
The main section that was the most useful to me was the second, titles, "The Goodly Frame". Within this section he discusses, specifically Act II Scene II where Hamlet, talking to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, looks at humanity as dust and seen as dust but how he contemplates that understanding by stating, "What a piece of work is a man" thus stating, and Knowles goes on to explore this idea, how much more complex humanity is than just dust. Knowles discusses that this concept and idea is holding both pessimism and optimism, macrocosm and microcosm, and humanism and skepticism. Because Hamlet questions this idea of man and what he is he goes into a deeper theological thought.
Knowles then goes onto explain older thinkers who were important to the development to the thought that Shakespeare is presenting through his character Hamlet. It discusses sin and man's separation from the divine and if that in anyway disrupts the small epiphany that Hamlet has within his monologue.
This was a very interesting article and can be found on JSTOR.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
"The Human Body as Microcosm in India, Greek Cosmology, and 16th Century Europe"
Alex Wayman's article, "The Human Body as Microcosm in India, Greek Cosmology, and 16th Century Europe" from History of Religions explores and discusses the usage of the zodiac signs within the human body, specifically the head, heart, and feet. It talks about the certain overlaps that are found in Indian and Greek thinking and how they both correlate together and then how that is presented within the though of England during the 16th century.
He begins his argument by addressing, what he calls, as "the problem". Which is understanding how, we as humans, can be seen as in the image of God. How is that possible and feasible. He then addresses the same issue found in Indian culture, where in the Upanisad, beginning religious concepts for Hinduism, the atman, or self, expresses "Thou art that". (Similar concept of being confused with how we are in the image of God. Did/can we make mountains or rivers because we are "thou art that"?) And lastly he connects the same problem to Greek thought, in that we are connected to the cosmos or that the cosmos are in us, which brings up the problem that we, as humans, die whereas the universe does not.
He address these issues first by looking at India and how they recognize the microcosm and the macrocosm. Stating that in India "truth is reached by going within, especially within the heart" (174) and he goes further to address that in Indian culture there are specific elements of the body that are praised above the other. For example the head and the upper part of the body are more important however the feet hold some of the same significance as the head. It also comments on the idea of the mandala which is found within the head, a symbol representing the universe, thus the universe is within the head. He relates this the Greeks influence of the zodiac into Indian cultures.
He focuses more on the implications that the microcosm has in England toward the end of his article. He specifically focuses on Jacob Boehme, who he describes as the "Protestant Mystic" and how the idea of the microcosm is used in order to understand and "the problem" within Christian thinking. Thus stating that the there are two bodies, the physical body and then the spiritual body and within that ideal the spiritual body is the part of us that is considered "in God's image".
Plenty more is discussed in this article and it gives good insight into how the microsom is used in English thought but then also the other regions and areas that use this same concept in order to help fix "their problem". This article can be found in JSTOR.
He begins his argument by addressing, what he calls, as "the problem". Which is understanding how, we as humans, can be seen as in the image of God. How is that possible and feasible. He then addresses the same issue found in Indian culture, where in the Upanisad, beginning religious concepts for Hinduism, the atman, or self, expresses "Thou art that". (Similar concept of being confused with how we are in the image of God. Did/can we make mountains or rivers because we are "thou art that"?) And lastly he connects the same problem to Greek thought, in that we are connected to the cosmos or that the cosmos are in us, which brings up the problem that we, as humans, die whereas the universe does not.
He address these issues first by looking at India and how they recognize the microcosm and the macrocosm. Stating that in India "truth is reached by going within, especially within the heart" (174) and he goes further to address that in Indian culture there are specific elements of the body that are praised above the other. For example the head and the upper part of the body are more important however the feet hold some of the same significance as the head. It also comments on the idea of the mandala which is found within the head, a symbol representing the universe, thus the universe is within the head. He relates this the Greeks influence of the zodiac into Indian cultures.
He focuses more on the implications that the microcosm has in England toward the end of his article. He specifically focuses on Jacob Boehme, who he describes as the "Protestant Mystic" and how the idea of the microcosm is used in order to understand and "the problem" within Christian thinking. Thus stating that the there are two bodies, the physical body and then the spiritual body and within that ideal the spiritual body is the part of us that is considered "in God's image".
Plenty more is discussed in this article and it gives good insight into how the microsom is used in English thought but then also the other regions and areas that use this same concept in order to help fix "their problem". This article can be found in JSTOR.
"The Elizabethan Idea of Empire"
In David Armitage's article, "The Elizabethan Idea of Empire" from Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, he discusses how he believes that the rule of Elizabeth was "derivative, belated and incoherent" (269). Frankly he discusses the negative aspects of Elizabeth's reign, a different outlook on England that is usually seen.
Throughout the article Armitage discusses the viewpoints of three different men. The first, Fernand Braudel. He discusses that Braudel believed that England had become an "island" an "autonomous unit distinct from continental Europe" (269). Armitage states that this idea omits both Scotland and Ireland and instead shows that England was more interested in their endeavor to cross the Atlantic and colonize the New World. He discusses how England became inclusive but that somehow took on the persona of expansion. The second person he brings into for the discussion is Carl Schmitt who has the same ideals and thoughts about England's expansion as Braudel. The last person he brings in is A. L. Rowse.
All three of these scholars he brings in are in the same mind set of an "inside-out Empire" and Armitage argues the negative aspects of this mind set and how it detached England from the rest of Europe, creating it's own entity on the outskirts of the country. He discusses that since Elizabeth was so focused on looking over seas she missed out on specific relationships and gains that she could have made with the other countries directly next to England. He also discusses that Elizabeth acquired many things for the empire outside of England and through trade even though it would have been more beneficial and easier to trade with closer countries who had stronger ties with the empire.
Armitage has a very interesting view that could possibly be beneficial when looking at the differences between Elizabeth and James's reign. This article can be found on JSTOR.
Throughout the article Armitage discusses the viewpoints of three different men. The first, Fernand Braudel. He discusses that Braudel believed that England had become an "island" an "autonomous unit distinct from continental Europe" (269). Armitage states that this idea omits both Scotland and Ireland and instead shows that England was more interested in their endeavor to cross the Atlantic and colonize the New World. He discusses how England became inclusive but that somehow took on the persona of expansion. The second person he brings into for the discussion is Carl Schmitt who has the same ideals and thoughts about England's expansion as Braudel. The last person he brings in is A. L. Rowse.
All three of these scholars he brings in are in the same mind set of an "inside-out Empire" and Armitage argues the negative aspects of this mind set and how it detached England from the rest of Europe, creating it's own entity on the outskirts of the country. He discusses that since Elizabeth was so focused on looking over seas she missed out on specific relationships and gains that she could have made with the other countries directly next to England. He also discusses that Elizabeth acquired many things for the empire outside of England and through trade even though it would have been more beneficial and easier to trade with closer countries who had stronger ties with the empire.
Armitage has a very interesting view that could possibly be beneficial when looking at the differences between Elizabeth and James's reign. This article can be found on JSTOR.
"Silk and Weavers of Silk in Medieval Peninsular India"
"Silk and Weavers of Silk in Medieval Peninsular India" by Vijaya Ramaswamy from The Medieval History Journal was a very interesting read that not only touched on how silk was produced and traded but also the cultural implications and influence that silk had in India.
Throughout the article Ramaswamy discusses the importance of silk within the Indian culture. It "was only worn by the ruling classes" (154) and "considered ritually pure and therefore obligatory wearing on occasion of the performance of sacrifice or special worship" (155). Ramaswamy goes further to explain that silk was used in order to distinguish the classes. Whether or not someone knew who an important figure was they were able to recognize someone's status based on the amount of silk their clothes were made of. The material it self separated the people and created a specific class structure within India. Although silk was seen as pure the most important color of silk was not white. The most important figures would wear red silk, which was specifically used for ritual occasions.
The article discusses the idea of "Social Sanskritization" or the act of imitating clothing and style so as to be able to conform to the higher class. Since silk was such an important possession visually many people switched from wearing cotton to silk in order to "fit into" the upper class. There was the "urge to imitate the lifestyle of the court and nobility" (158) which was done by adding bits of silk into the clothing.
Because silk was such an influential material within the Indian culture, where it was manufactured at the time, it's interesting to notice mentioning of silk within the clothing of the monarchy during the renaissance and how important their clothing was to understanding their cultural dominance. Silk is also mentioned in Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus stating, "I'll have them fill the public schools with silk,/Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad" (Norton 1131). Silk is used as an important key to uplift and elevate the children in the school. Their clothing puts on the persona of nobility or part of the upper class making the production and distribution of silk a tool from the areas of trade.
Throughout the article Ramaswamy discusses the importance of silk within the Indian culture. It "was only worn by the ruling classes" (154) and "considered ritually pure and therefore obligatory wearing on occasion of the performance of sacrifice or special worship" (155). Ramaswamy goes further to explain that silk was used in order to distinguish the classes. Whether or not someone knew who an important figure was they were able to recognize someone's status based on the amount of silk their clothes were made of. The material it self separated the people and created a specific class structure within India. Although silk was seen as pure the most important color of silk was not white. The most important figures would wear red silk, which was specifically used for ritual occasions.
The article discusses the idea of "Social Sanskritization" or the act of imitating clothing and style so as to be able to conform to the higher class. Since silk was such an important possession visually many people switched from wearing cotton to silk in order to "fit into" the upper class. There was the "urge to imitate the lifestyle of the court and nobility" (158) which was done by adding bits of silk into the clothing.
Because silk was such an influential material within the Indian culture, where it was manufactured at the time, it's interesting to notice mentioning of silk within the clothing of the monarchy during the renaissance and how important their clothing was to understanding their cultural dominance. Silk is also mentioned in Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus stating, "I'll have them fill the public schools with silk,/Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad" (Norton 1131). Silk is used as an important key to uplift and elevate the children in the school. Their clothing puts on the persona of nobility or part of the upper class making the production and distribution of silk a tool from the areas of trade.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Glossing over the entirety of Elizabeth's reign
The Elizabethans, collected by Allardyce Nicoll, is a really weird but really cool book. It covers a wide variety of topics and only spends a few pages on each - the section on Elizabeth is the longest, I think, and its only 10 pages.
The sections include: The Paradox (a 2-page introduction to the importance of paradox in the Elizabethan period, followed by quotes about paradox and discord from the time period), Queen Elizabeth, The Spheres of Heaven and Earth, Government & Justice, The Church, The Plague, Science, The Arts, and The Navy.
Each of the sections may be short, but included in each of them is excerpts from primary-source documents.
The section on the Navy may be interesting to Brad, Catherine, and/or Kari. There are some specifics here in the introduction, as well as what appear to be some really great quotes cited in the back.
The section on the plague is short but memorable. The first quote begins: "The purple whip of vengeance, the plague, having beaten many thousands of men, women and children to death, and still marking the people of this city every week by hundreds for the grave, is the only cause that all her inhabitants walk up and down like mourners at some great solemn funeral, the City herself being the chief mourners" (66).
Sami, I think you'd find this helpful. There's even a section of this that is "Orders to be set down by the Lord Mayer and Aldermen of London" in the event of the onset of the plague. This includes the role of Clerks and Sextons, Physicians and Surgeons, the Mending of Pavements, and Interludes and Plays, among other things.
The sections include: The Paradox (a 2-page introduction to the importance of paradox in the Elizabethan period, followed by quotes about paradox and discord from the time period), Queen Elizabeth, The Spheres of Heaven and Earth, Government & Justice, The Church, The Plague, Science, The Arts, and The Navy.
Each of the sections may be short, but included in each of them is excerpts from primary-source documents.
The section on the Navy may be interesting to Brad, Catherine, and/or Kari. There are some specifics here in the introduction, as well as what appear to be some really great quotes cited in the back.
The section on the plague is short but memorable. The first quote begins: "The purple whip of vengeance, the plague, having beaten many thousands of men, women and children to death, and still marking the people of this city every week by hundreds for the grave, is the only cause that all her inhabitants walk up and down like mourners at some great solemn funeral, the City herself being the chief mourners" (66).
Sami, I think you'd find this helpful. There's even a section of this that is "Orders to be set down by the Lord Mayer and Aldermen of London" in the event of the onset of the plague. This includes the role of Clerks and Sextons, Physicians and Surgeons, the Mending of Pavements, and Interludes and Plays, among other things.
The Elizabethans. Ed. Allardyce Nicoll. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1957.
Print.
Masques & Politics in Stuart England
This is a collection of essays edited by David Bevington and Peter Holbrook. It's exactly what it sounds like - all the important aspects of masques during James' reign, primarily. Some of the essays included are titled "Jacobean masques and the Jacobean peace," "Jonson, the antimasque and the 'rules of flattery'," "The Tempest and the Jacobean court masque," and "The politics of music in the masque," as well as ten others.
Basically, if you want to write about masques at all, or even reference them in regards to your more specific topic, this book has something for you. I've learned some pretty awesome things just from "The politics of music in the masque" essay, including the way in which music was perceived. In some sense, music was seen as something both earthly and divine, somehow inspired by or moving in harmony with the celestial spheres. Harnessing the power of music, then, would be stepping into a divine role and commanding something divine.
So. Cool. The other part I'm having a lot of fun with is Bevington's essay on The Tempest. He discusses the fact that none of Shakespeare's plays were probably written directly for royalty, despite popular belief, but they still engaged heavily with the themes/ideas/current events of the court. Bevington writes that The Tempest may not have been commissioned for the royal wedding, but instead engages with the ceremony by offering a "wedding masque for those many persons who were not invited to the three costly, one-time masques staged at court" (220).
Sometimes Shakespeare is made out to be, like, super involved at court because he was part of the King's Players. But according to Bevington, this was actually less about patronage in a monetary sense and more about publicity and reputation.
If anybody's interested, they can borrow it from me. It's an ILL, but it's something I think we should definitely get for our library.
The Politics of the Stuart Court Masque. Ed. David Bevington and Peter Holbrook. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Print.
Basically, if you want to write about masques at all, or even reference them in regards to your more specific topic, this book has something for you. I've learned some pretty awesome things just from "The politics of music in the masque" essay, including the way in which music was perceived. In some sense, music was seen as something both earthly and divine, somehow inspired by or moving in harmony with the celestial spheres. Harnessing the power of music, then, would be stepping into a divine role and commanding something divine.
So. Cool. The other part I'm having a lot of fun with is Bevington's essay on The Tempest. He discusses the fact that none of Shakespeare's plays were probably written directly for royalty, despite popular belief, but they still engaged heavily with the themes/ideas/current events of the court. Bevington writes that The Tempest may not have been commissioned for the royal wedding, but instead engages with the ceremony by offering a "wedding masque for those many persons who were not invited to the three costly, one-time masques staged at court" (220).
Sometimes Shakespeare is made out to be, like, super involved at court because he was part of the King's Players. But according to Bevington, this was actually less about patronage in a monetary sense and more about publicity and reputation.
If anybody's interested, they can borrow it from me. It's an ILL, but it's something I think we should definitely get for our library.
The Politics of the Stuart Court Masque. Ed. David Bevington and Peter Holbrook. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Print.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Illusions of Power: Theatre, Spectacle, and Self-Portrayal
Stephen Orgel's small but useful book Illusions of Power: Political Theater in the English Renaissance covers several topics that other people in class are working on. Of course, my essay on theater and politics is over, but wrapped up inside that topic is self-representation.
The first section, "Theaters and Audiences," discusses the political value of private theaters. For instance, James I apparently used seating arrangements in the audience of the theater to make political statements. Orgel cites that James would insult the Venetians by seating them further from the stage than the Spaniards (11). Orgel also discusses what we've often discussed in class - that a monarch goes to the theater primarily to be seen, and secondly to enjoy the play. Should anybody desire to cite this information, it's here with specific proof (complaints from the courtiers that the seating arrangement in Christ Church Hall was all wrong because they could not view the King. It's on page 16).
The main interesting thing about Orgel's argument, to me, is the discussion of visual vs. auditory theater. This seems like an odd distinction to make, at first - of course, theater is a combination of both the visual and the auditory. Yet, it is apparently something of debate as to which is the most prominent during the Renaissance - especially given that this is the time period when staging, costuming, etc. became much more elaborate. We've previously discussed the lavish sets and costumes that English monarchs would require of their court masques, and the ridiculous expenses this entailed.
And yet, Orgel notes that while action and setting are equally dramatic, "Renaissance characters regularly pause to describe in words the actions we see taking place" (26). There is a reason that the word audience comes from auditory/audio - there was the expectation that dialogue/sound/music were at the very least as important as the action happening on stage.
The other interesting section, for me, is "The Royal Spectacle." Orgel here deals with the Queen at theater-goer as well as participant. He argues for the extreme political importance of theater, as well as the popular knowledge of that importance. He cites one particular incident where a Puritan polemicist named Prynne (perhaps accidentally) implied that the Queen was a whore for her involvement and participation in theater and masques. In response, the attorney general sentenced Prynne to life imprisonment and cut off his ears. The court, apparently, thought this punishment fitting.
Here, the acknowledgment on the part of the court of the necessity of political theater is clear.
The first section, "Theaters and Audiences," discusses the political value of private theaters. For instance, James I apparently used seating arrangements in the audience of the theater to make political statements. Orgel cites that James would insult the Venetians by seating them further from the stage than the Spaniards (11). Orgel also discusses what we've often discussed in class - that a monarch goes to the theater primarily to be seen, and secondly to enjoy the play. Should anybody desire to cite this information, it's here with specific proof (complaints from the courtiers that the seating arrangement in Christ Church Hall was all wrong because they could not view the King. It's on page 16).
The main interesting thing about Orgel's argument, to me, is the discussion of visual vs. auditory theater. This seems like an odd distinction to make, at first - of course, theater is a combination of both the visual and the auditory. Yet, it is apparently something of debate as to which is the most prominent during the Renaissance - especially given that this is the time period when staging, costuming, etc. became much more elaborate. We've previously discussed the lavish sets and costumes that English monarchs would require of their court masques, and the ridiculous expenses this entailed.
And yet, Orgel notes that while action and setting are equally dramatic, "Renaissance characters regularly pause to describe in words the actions we see taking place" (26). There is a reason that the word audience comes from auditory/audio - there was the expectation that dialogue/sound/music were at the very least as important as the action happening on stage.
The other interesting section, for me, is "The Royal Spectacle." Orgel here deals with the Queen at theater-goer as well as participant. He argues for the extreme political importance of theater, as well as the popular knowledge of that importance. He cites one particular incident where a Puritan polemicist named Prynne (perhaps accidentally) implied that the Queen was a whore for her involvement and participation in theater and masques. In response, the attorney general sentenced Prynne to life imprisonment and cut off his ears. The court, apparently, thought this punishment fitting.
Here, the acknowledgment on the part of the court of the necessity of political theater is clear.
Orgel, Stephen. The
Illusion of Power. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Print.
James & Elizabeth as Player-Monarchs
We're all familiar with Hamlet's Player-King. Hamlet uses a visiting troupe of players to reenact his father's death, casting doubles of Claudius, King Hamlet, and Gertrude. These characters are used as foils to reflect Claudius' sins back at him, revealing his guilt and allowing Hamlet to have full confidence in the justification of his revenge.
 |
| Sarah Ball and Michael Tremblay as the Player King and Queen in the Pacific Conservatory Theatre's production of Hamlet, 2014 |
We talk all the time about performativity, masks, facades, self-representation, etc., but we don't often talk about how up-front these representations are. Orgel's assessment of James and Elizabeth as Player-Monarchs indicates that the general population was well aware of the monarchs' performativity and self-representation, and instead of shying away from the obvious rhetorical moves, approved of them as long as they were performed well.
In the cases of Elizabeth and James, the Player-Monarch reflected a simplistic, role-fulfilling version of the 'real' monarch. It's not a hugely new idea, but qualifying these rulers in this way was immensely helpful for me as a separation between Elizabeth and her self-representation, as well as James and his self-representation. A Player-Monarch does not have the same kind of humanity that the 'real' Elizabeth has; instead, she is allowed to be divine and metaphorical and multi-gendered and all of these things because she is acknowledged to be a vessel of role-fulfillment.
Pageantry in
the Shakespearean Theater. Ed. David M. Bergeron. Athens:
University of Georgia Press, 1985. Print.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Donne's Valediction and Gematria
I found an interesting article through ILL that sheds some light on what may be going on in Donne’s “A Valediction of my Name, in the Window.” The article is called “‘Here you see mee’: Donne’s Autographed Valediction” by Julia M. Walker. Walker is primarily concerned here with establishing whether it is Donne himself who is speaking in this poem, or if he is using a persona. Walker begins by arguing that for most of Donne’s poetry, one ought not assume that Donne himself is the speaker, but she then proceeds to make a case for why this valediction stands out as one that we can assume is autobiographical. Walker makes the claim that Donne’s poem is “autographed” numerically using a system of assigning letters to numbers (called gematria) developed by John Skelton.
Walker builds her argument off of John T. Shawcross, who also argues that Donne is playing with gematria, but Walker comes to different conclusions about which numbers are coming into play for Donne. The crux of Walker’s argument comes from the observation that under Skelton’s system, “JOHN DONNE,” “MY NAME,” and “ANNE MORE” all total to 64. She furthermore adds that “OUR LOVE” and “ENGRAVE,” also add up to the 64. Walker further explores the implications of the numbers of lines and stanzas which make up this poem, and how they may inform an autobiographical reading of this poem.
I’m not entirely sure if this reading of the poem seems like too long of a shot or not. The coinciding of Donne’s name with Anne’s name and also with “my name” is certainly an interesting point, but Walker does’t seem to have any evidence as to why Donne might preference this particular numbering system over another. If Walker is right, I would love to particularly explore the equivocating of Donne’s name with “my name,” as this might lend some interesting thoughts regarding how Donne regarded his own identity, and the interplay of language (his name) and self (his person).
Walker builds her argument off of John T. Shawcross, who also argues that Donne is playing with gematria, but Walker comes to different conclusions about which numbers are coming into play for Donne. The crux of Walker’s argument comes from the observation that under Skelton’s system, “JOHN DONNE,” “MY NAME,” and “ANNE MORE” all total to 64. She furthermore adds that “OUR LOVE” and “ENGRAVE,” also add up to the 64. Walker further explores the implications of the numbers of lines and stanzas which make up this poem, and how they may inform an autobiographical reading of this poem.
I’m not entirely sure if this reading of the poem seems like too long of a shot or not. The coinciding of Donne’s name with Anne’s name and also with “my name” is certainly an interesting point, but Walker does’t seem to have any evidence as to why Donne might preference this particular numbering system over another. If Walker is right, I would love to particularly explore the equivocating of Donne’s name with “my name,” as this might lend some interesting thoughts regarding how Donne regarded his own identity, and the interplay of language (his name) and self (his person).
Donne and Paradoxes and Philosophy
I just read the article “Paradox in Donne” by Michael McCanles. This article was fascinating and had some really interesting points in it, but it was also nearly impossible for me to read because it seems to have been written by someone far more steeped in traditions of philosophy and philosophical language than I am. I managed to get the gist of it, though. So that’s nice.
McCanles is making an argument about what Donne’s paradoxes are accomplishing in terms of philosophical traditions in what he calls “concept-object correspondence,” which, as far as I can tell, is the practice of asking to what degree do the things we can conceive of reflect reality. In order to give an understanding of the philosophical tradition that Donne is writing in, McCanles starts his paper by giving an overview of various schools of thought regarding concept-object correspondence, ultimately showing that while many of them approach the idea of correspondence from differing angles and understandings, most people have been inclined to agree that there is some degree of correspondence between what we can think and what actually is factual. This tendency becomes especially clear when we think about our tendency to have a commitment to logic as a legitimate way of making statements about factual reality.
McCanles argues that Donne’s paradoxical poems (and here he is addressing a somewhat specified set of his poems, mostly found in Songs and Sonets, which form arguments similar to classical paradoxical puzzles) use the practice of connecting things which bear similar characteristics and logic to argue things — but he takes the argument so far as to force the reader to come to the opposite conclusion of what the poem’s speaker is arguing. He does a fascinating analysis of “The Flea” under this theory, which is really too detailed to summarize here. If you’re interested, the article is well worth a read.
McCanles concludes by acknowledging the poems that he does not address under this theory. Donne’s more “serious” paradoxical poems — and here he lists “The Extasie,” “A Valediction: forbidding mourning,” and “Lovers infinitenesse” — are not ones that submit themselves to be immediately contradicted, but instead “the dialectic between reader and writer and mind and matter ends not simply in a destruction of the poem’s argument, but rather results in a balanced, unresolved dialectic by which both sides cooperate in holding in solution existential situations which defy clear conceptualization and which can be defined only in paradox” (286). It would appear then, that here Donne challenges readers not to just reject the speaker’s propositions, but instead to see the problematic paradox inherent in the poem and to accept both sides of the paradox anyway.
This article seems like an excellent jumping-off point for me in considering Donne’s use of paradox and how that may relate to his concept of the self. McCanles writes that Donne’s paradox “requires the mind of the reader to take a new look not only at the reality [which may be the opposite of what has just been logically argued] but also at its own capabilities for grasping that reality” (277). I’m hoping that by looking at how Donne is forcing the reader to rethink their own understanding of the world and even of their understanding itself, I can find a place to pursue the idea that Donne is perhaps trying to show the reader that ultimately, existing as the self is itself a paradox.
McCanles is making an argument about what Donne’s paradoxes are accomplishing in terms of philosophical traditions in what he calls “concept-object correspondence,” which, as far as I can tell, is the practice of asking to what degree do the things we can conceive of reflect reality. In order to give an understanding of the philosophical tradition that Donne is writing in, McCanles starts his paper by giving an overview of various schools of thought regarding concept-object correspondence, ultimately showing that while many of them approach the idea of correspondence from differing angles and understandings, most people have been inclined to agree that there is some degree of correspondence between what we can think and what actually is factual. This tendency becomes especially clear when we think about our tendency to have a commitment to logic as a legitimate way of making statements about factual reality.
McCanles argues that Donne’s paradoxical poems (and here he is addressing a somewhat specified set of his poems, mostly found in Songs and Sonets, which form arguments similar to classical paradoxical puzzles) use the practice of connecting things which bear similar characteristics and logic to argue things — but he takes the argument so far as to force the reader to come to the opposite conclusion of what the poem’s speaker is arguing. He does a fascinating analysis of “The Flea” under this theory, which is really too detailed to summarize here. If you’re interested, the article is well worth a read.
McCanles concludes by acknowledging the poems that he does not address under this theory. Donne’s more “serious” paradoxical poems — and here he lists “The Extasie,” “A Valediction: forbidding mourning,” and “Lovers infinitenesse” — are not ones that submit themselves to be immediately contradicted, but instead “the dialectic between reader and writer and mind and matter ends not simply in a destruction of the poem’s argument, but rather results in a balanced, unresolved dialectic by which both sides cooperate in holding in solution existential situations which defy clear conceptualization and which can be defined only in paradox” (286). It would appear then, that here Donne challenges readers not to just reject the speaker’s propositions, but instead to see the problematic paradox inherent in the poem and to accept both sides of the paradox anyway.
This article seems like an excellent jumping-off point for me in considering Donne’s use of paradox and how that may relate to his concept of the self. McCanles writes that Donne’s paradox “requires the mind of the reader to take a new look not only at the reality [which may be the opposite of what has just been logically argued] but also at its own capabilities for grasping that reality” (277). I’m hoping that by looking at how Donne is forcing the reader to rethink their own understanding of the world and even of their understanding itself, I can find a place to pursue the idea that Donne is perhaps trying to show the reader that ultimately, existing as the self is itself a paradox.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Thoughts on Donne's "Death's Duell"
Donne’s final sermon, “Death’s Duell” really is a tour de force in Donne’s preaching. This sermon was an Ash Wednesday sermon which he preached while very ill, shortly before he died. The sermon was published soon after, with an engraving portrait of Donne in his shroud, a portrait which he commissioned and sat for before his death. People who heard Donne preach this sermon commented that he was preaching his own funeral sermon. Cheerful.
I wish I had time to read a lot of Donne’s sermons so that I could better compare this, his last sermon, with how he approaches his other sermons to see what differences become apparent in Donne’s preaching as he comes near the end of his life, but the only other sermon I have read and can compare this to is the Easter sermon in which he uses the extended theatre metaphor. McCullough (whose chapter, “Donne as preacher,” I discussed in an earlier post) claims that this sermon, since it is so near to Donne’s death is one that is more free from artifice and theatricality, and which honestly and convincingly makes an argument about God’s rule over all things, including death.
McCullough’s chapter about Donne’s preaching also urged the reader to remember that the sermon was meant to be heard, not read, and to thus use one’s imagination to try to picture how Donne might have used tone, volume, and gestures to emphasize his point. I tried to keep this in mind while reading this rather lengthy sermon, and it helped me what seemed at first like a fairly dry text come to life a little more. It’s interesting to see where Donne is using repetition and other devices that would work especially well with an audience who is hearing, rather than reading his words.
The text of the sermon is brilliant, though it’s hard to articulate a main idea, because of the way that Donne shifts his argument as he progresses through the sermon. It’s a fascinating argument to follow though. He starts by making the argument that all our lives we are really only moving from death to death. He then moves in on a meditation on the fact that Christ, God incarnate died and was raised again, both of which seem impossible. Donne contends that Christ was able to do both of these things not because of his hypostatic union, but because “unto God belong the issues of death” (1). Near the end of the sermon, however, he has shifted his argument so that he says that we are moving from life in the present to life eternal. He uses the interesting metaphor of a sentence with a parenthetical, saying, “As the first part of a sentence peeces well with the last, and never repeats, never hearkens after the parenthesis that comes betweene, so doth a good life here flowe into an Eternall life, without anf consideration, what manner of death we dye” (21). He comments on the seeming paradox of Christ’s death, saying, “That God this Lord, the Lord of life could dye, is a strange contemplation” (22). His sermon then gives a lengthy narration of Christ’s passion, seemingly to affirm that Christ really did die, showing that God has power over death. He ends his sermon with a comment that I thing is absolutely beautiful: “as God breathed a soule into the first Adam, so this second Adam breathed his soule int God, into the hands of God” (32).
This sermon is awesome. And I think that exploring the way that Donne weaves death and life together in his arguments will help me as I continue to try to understand what Donne is getting at with his near-constant use of paradoxes.
I wish I had time to read a lot of Donne’s sermons so that I could better compare this, his last sermon, with how he approaches his other sermons to see what differences become apparent in Donne’s preaching as he comes near the end of his life, but the only other sermon I have read and can compare this to is the Easter sermon in which he uses the extended theatre metaphor. McCullough (whose chapter, “Donne as preacher,” I discussed in an earlier post) claims that this sermon, since it is so near to Donne’s death is one that is more free from artifice and theatricality, and which honestly and convincingly makes an argument about God’s rule over all things, including death.
McCullough’s chapter about Donne’s preaching also urged the reader to remember that the sermon was meant to be heard, not read, and to thus use one’s imagination to try to picture how Donne might have used tone, volume, and gestures to emphasize his point. I tried to keep this in mind while reading this rather lengthy sermon, and it helped me what seemed at first like a fairly dry text come to life a little more. It’s interesting to see where Donne is using repetition and other devices that would work especially well with an audience who is hearing, rather than reading his words.
The text of the sermon is brilliant, though it’s hard to articulate a main idea, because of the way that Donne shifts his argument as he progresses through the sermon. It’s a fascinating argument to follow though. He starts by making the argument that all our lives we are really only moving from death to death. He then moves in on a meditation on the fact that Christ, God incarnate died and was raised again, both of which seem impossible. Donne contends that Christ was able to do both of these things not because of his hypostatic union, but because “unto God belong the issues of death” (1). Near the end of the sermon, however, he has shifted his argument so that he says that we are moving from life in the present to life eternal. He uses the interesting metaphor of a sentence with a parenthetical, saying, “As the first part of a sentence peeces well with the last, and never repeats, never hearkens after the parenthesis that comes betweene, so doth a good life here flowe into an Eternall life, without anf consideration, what manner of death we dye” (21). He comments on the seeming paradox of Christ’s death, saying, “That God this Lord, the Lord of life could dye, is a strange contemplation” (22). His sermon then gives a lengthy narration of Christ’s passion, seemingly to affirm that Christ really did die, showing that God has power over death. He ends his sermon with a comment that I thing is absolutely beautiful: “as God breathed a soule into the first Adam, so this second Adam breathed his soule int God, into the hands of God” (32).
This sermon is awesome. And I think that exploring the way that Donne weaves death and life together in his arguments will help me as I continue to try to understand what Donne is getting at with his near-constant use of paradoxes.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Donne’s Artistic Identity
The book, Early Modern English Poetry: A Critical Companion, edited by Patrick Cheney, Andrew Hadfield, and Garrett A. Sullivan, Jr. is a very nice collection of scholarly articles about various Early Modern poets. One section of this book that was of particular interest to me was an article Andrew Hadfield called, “Donne’s Songs and Sonets and Artistic Identity. The article examines the posthumous collection of Donne’s poetry, which was published under the title Songs and Sonets. The posthumous nature of the collection is something that Hadfield is particularly concerned with examining in this article — as he is trying to construct something of an understanding of who Donne is speaking as, and who he is speaking to in some of the poems that appear in this collection.
Among other things, Hadfield is committed to a certain degree of ambiguity in the way that scholars encounter and attempt to understand these poems. He points out that very little of Donne’s poetry was published during his life, but that much of it was circulated among groups of his friends. This means that Donne’s poetry was not written with the public at large in mind and what may have been clear to groups of Donne’s friends was not clear to the original audiences of the printed work and has become even less clear to us today, as time has separated us from the context of Donne’s poetry. Hadfield makes the point that the poems collected in Songs and Sonnets probably came from a variety of sources, and thus are much better understood not as a cohesive whole, but as many individual poems that may have been addressed to many different audiences. Hadfield furthermore challenges some of the long-held assumptions that most of Donne’s poetry was addressed to groups of men in courtly spheres, and submits that many of his poems may have been written with a female audience in mind as well.
In trying to understand Donne’s original audiences a little better Hadfield is especially concerned to address many scholar’s accusations of Donne’s rampant misogyny. Hadfield’s argument that many of Donne’s readers may have been women is added to by the thought that many of his poems that seem misogynistic may be so constructed as creating a sarcastic commentary on some of the attitudes of the time. Hadfield also offers a different reading of “The Flea” from the traditional understanding, arguing that the poem may be addressed to his wife, and so in the second stanza, when Donne claims to be married to the one he is addressing, he may in fact be in earnest.
Among other things, Hadfield is committed to a certain degree of ambiguity in the way that scholars encounter and attempt to understand these poems. He points out that very little of Donne’s poetry was published during his life, but that much of it was circulated among groups of his friends. This means that Donne’s poetry was not written with the public at large in mind and what may have been clear to groups of Donne’s friends was not clear to the original audiences of the printed work and has become even less clear to us today, as time has separated us from the context of Donne’s poetry. Hadfield makes the point that the poems collected in Songs and Sonnets probably came from a variety of sources, and thus are much better understood not as a cohesive whole, but as many individual poems that may have been addressed to many different audiences. Hadfield furthermore challenges some of the long-held assumptions that most of Donne’s poetry was addressed to groups of men in courtly spheres, and submits that many of his poems may have been written with a female audience in mind as well.
In trying to understand Donne’s original audiences a little better Hadfield is especially concerned to address many scholar’s accusations of Donne’s rampant misogyny. Hadfield’s argument that many of Donne’s readers may have been women is added to by the thought that many of his poems that seem misogynistic may be so constructed as creating a sarcastic commentary on some of the attitudes of the time. Hadfield also offers a different reading of “The Flea” from the traditional understanding, arguing that the poem may be addressed to his wife, and so in the second stanza, when Donne claims to be married to the one he is addressing, he may in fact be in earnest.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
The Paradox Topos in Medieval and Early Modern Thought
I found a nice article that gives a brief overview of the use of paradox in a few different literary works from Medieval and Early Modern England. It’s called “The Paradox Topos”, and is written by Lisa Gorton. (Also, apparently my spellcheck doesn’t like the word ‘topos’, so as I write this post, there’s going to be lots of annoying red underlines who are trying to tell me that I’m wrong.)
The paradox that Gorton is looking at particularly is a neoplatonic one, which is founded on ideas of using spatial geometry to imagine spiritual relationships. She is examining specifically a scene in Dante’s Paradiso in which God is posited as being both the center and the perimeter as a circle. Gorton makes a number of interesting observations about this creation. One interesting thought is that rather than the image’s containing merely a philosophical proposition, it also holds emotional connotations. Thus the paradoxical argument is more complicated than merely that of communicating an idea: authors who employ this particular image are making an emotionally charged argument about the nature of God and the world.
I also found an interesting footnote in this article which discusses the fact that Medieval and Early Modern people were much more familiar with rhetorical paradoxes than we are, and as such were possibly more able to accept paradoxes without feeling that they must resolve them. This would seem to explain a lot about Donne’s use of paradoxes in his preaching. One of the things that I have wondered is if Donne would have been incomprehensible in his sermons to the less educated of his audiences. The McCullough chapter that I read mentions that, like those who wrote for the theatre, Donne had to keep in mind in writing his sermons that his audience could be very mixed. I wonder how the division of high/low in his audiences interacts with Donne’s use of paradox.
The idea of paradoxical symbolic geometry is one that is pretty apparent in much of Donne’s poetry. I am thinking particularly of his “Hymn to God, my God, in My Sickness”, in which he, contemplating a sickness which he thinks will ultimately kill him, compares himself to a map, then commenting “What shall my west hurt me? As west and east / In all flat maps (and I am one) are one, / So death doth touch the resurrection.”
I think that perhaps examining Donne’s use of paradox in the context of Early Modern attitudes towards paradox will help me to better explore what Donne is actually doing with all of his paradoxes.
The paradox that Gorton is looking at particularly is a neoplatonic one, which is founded on ideas of using spatial geometry to imagine spiritual relationships. She is examining specifically a scene in Dante’s Paradiso in which God is posited as being both the center and the perimeter as a circle. Gorton makes a number of interesting observations about this creation. One interesting thought is that rather than the image’s containing merely a philosophical proposition, it also holds emotional connotations. Thus the paradoxical argument is more complicated than merely that of communicating an idea: authors who employ this particular image are making an emotionally charged argument about the nature of God and the world.
I also found an interesting footnote in this article which discusses the fact that Medieval and Early Modern people were much more familiar with rhetorical paradoxes than we are, and as such were possibly more able to accept paradoxes without feeling that they must resolve them. This would seem to explain a lot about Donne’s use of paradoxes in his preaching. One of the things that I have wondered is if Donne would have been incomprehensible in his sermons to the less educated of his audiences. The McCullough chapter that I read mentions that, like those who wrote for the theatre, Donne had to keep in mind in writing his sermons that his audience could be very mixed. I wonder how the division of high/low in his audiences interacts with Donne’s use of paradox.
The idea of paradoxical symbolic geometry is one that is pretty apparent in much of Donne’s poetry. I am thinking particularly of his “Hymn to God, my God, in My Sickness”, in which he, contemplating a sickness which he thinks will ultimately kill him, compares himself to a map, then commenting “What shall my west hurt me? As west and east / In all flat maps (and I am one) are one, / So death doth touch the resurrection.”
I think that perhaps examining Donne’s use of paradox in the context of Early Modern attitudes towards paradox will help me to better explore what Donne is actually doing with all of his paradoxes.
The Theatricality of Early Modern Preaching
Okay, this will probably be my last post about The Cambridge Companion to John Donne, but seriously, this book is awesome. I just read a chapter called “Done as preacher” by Peter McCullough. The chapter was mostly an examination of the rhetorical devices and conventions that Donne regularly employed, and it also offered a contextual look at the ideals and perceptions of preaching in Early Modern England.
McCullough begins by pointing out that at the time of Donne’s death, he was renowned for his sermons rather than for his poetry, but that today his sermons are often only read as extra materials to illuminate biographical details about Donne for the purpose of contextualizing his poetry. McCullough observes that Donne’s sermon style is something almost entirely foreign to us today, as they generally lasted over an hour, and were constructed, in accordance with a neoclassical aesthetic, as classical orations. In an effort to better contextualize Donne’s sermons, McCullough examines the classical conventions of public speeches, and examines how Donne is employing, and in some cases altering, these conventions.
Something that I found particularly interesting was the idea that Donne, as a preacher, was in indirect competition with other oral performances, particularly courtly masques and the theatre. This chapter may be helpful to people who are looking at masques and/or theatre, to provide a contextual counterpoint to those performances. (Let me know if you want more details about this angle, or if you want to borrow the book!)
Guibbory, Achsah. The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
McCullough begins by pointing out that at the time of Donne’s death, he was renowned for his sermons rather than for his poetry, but that today his sermons are often only read as extra materials to illuminate biographical details about Donne for the purpose of contextualizing his poetry. McCullough observes that Donne’s sermon style is something almost entirely foreign to us today, as they generally lasted over an hour, and were constructed, in accordance with a neoclassical aesthetic, as classical orations. In an effort to better contextualize Donne’s sermons, McCullough examines the classical conventions of public speeches, and examines how Donne is employing, and in some cases altering, these conventions.
Something that I found particularly interesting was the idea that Donne, as a preacher, was in indirect competition with other oral performances, particularly courtly masques and the theatre. This chapter may be helpful to people who are looking at masques and/or theatre, to provide a contextual counterpoint to those performances. (Let me know if you want more details about this angle, or if you want to borrow the book!)
Guibbory, Achsah. The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
Donne: a brief biography, which centers around the facts that I found particularly interesting and memorable
So I read up on Donne’s life in the Dictionary of National Biography, and wanted to just share a few of what I thought were the most salient points regarding his life. I present them here in the form of bulleted, though not exhaustive, list:
- Donne was born to a Catholic family. His father was a successful merchant, but died when Donne was around three years old, leaving a widow and six children.
- Donne’s mother was very staunchly Catholic, and so Donne’s education was deeply informed by the Catholic tradition. The DNB says, “In her [Donne’s mother’s] household there should be no uncertainty; protestantism and all that it implied was hateful to her; her children should be brought up in the old creed, and in that alone” (1129).
- Donne had a grammar school until he was twelve years old, and then he entered Oxford. Apparently enrolling at Oxford at such a young age was not entirely unusual at the time, and in doing so, Donne avoided having to take an oath of allegiance to the Anglican church, which was required of entrants over the age of sixteen.
- It appears that shortly after his finishing his Oxford studies, he had a job as a secretary to the lord keeper. The DNB points out that this required him to live a very public life. It appears that he made many important friends during this time and his poetry started to circulate among some circles. The DNB observes that “He seems to have had an extraordinary power of attaching others to himself; there is a vein of peculiar tenderness which runs through the expressions in which his friends speak of him, as if he had exercised over their affection for him an unusual and indefinable witchery” (1130).
- In 1600, Donne secretly married the daughter of the man for whom he was working as a secretary. When her father discovered this, he was furious, and had the witnesses to the secret marriage imprisoned. He dismissed Donne as secretary in enough ignonomy as to spoil Donne’s career.
- Donne was probably ordained as a divine on January 25, 1615 (though the date is, apparently, not entirely clear). Soon after, James I made him his chaplain and Donne thus preached regularly before James’ court.
- Shortly before his death in 1631, Donne preached an Ash Wednesday sermon entitled “Death’s Duell”. He was in very poor health when he preached it, and the king said that Donne was preaching his own funeral sermon. The DNB comments that, “There is a tone of awful solemnity throughout the discourse, but no sign of failing powers" (1135-6).
Donne's Devotional Writings
Okay, here’s another chapter from The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. This chapter is called “Devotional writing” and is by Helen Wilcox. I was really excited by this at first, because pretty early on, she starts talking about the role of the paradox in Donne’s devotional writing, so I thought that the chapter would help me to understand what the paradox is doing in Donne’s work: What is it accomplishing? Why does he employ it so often? How does it relate to his identity?
Unfortunately for me, Wilcox appears not to have had my research needs in mind when she wrote this chapter, because instead she focuses in on giving a close reading of several of Donne’s devotional writings, but not offering much of a framework as to how we are to think of these writings as a whole, at least, not that I could particularly discern. This chapter was helpful in that it offered a brief close reading of a number of Donne’s devotional writings (including “Hymn to God my God in my Sickness”, which I plan to examine in my paper), but was less helpful in offering an understanding of what is being accomplished in Donne’s career as a whole.
Something that I did find really interesting in this chapter concerned Donne’s view of words themselves. According to Wilcox, Donne saw an inseparable connection between his faith and his writing. He wrote, “God made us with his word, and with our words we make God” (149). For Donne, using language to express the divine was something that he must do, but at the same time it is something that he saw as impossible for him to do fully. What Wilcox said about Donne’s view of language’s inability to communicate divine things reminded me of Herbert’s poem “The Windows”, because the doubts that Herbert expresses seem very similar. (On a wholly tangential side note, it also reminds me of Karl Barth, who wrote similar things about language being fundamentally unable to express the things of God, but that was much later.) Perhaps there is something worth exploring in that Donne is writing in this tension of feeling that he must write, but also that no matter how well he writes, it will never fully articulate what he wants it to.
Guibbory, Achsah. The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
Unfortunately for me, Wilcox appears not to have had my research needs in mind when she wrote this chapter, because instead she focuses in on giving a close reading of several of Donne’s devotional writings, but not offering much of a framework as to how we are to think of these writings as a whole, at least, not that I could particularly discern. This chapter was helpful in that it offered a brief close reading of a number of Donne’s devotional writings (including “Hymn to God my God in my Sickness”, which I plan to examine in my paper), but was less helpful in offering an understanding of what is being accomplished in Donne’s career as a whole.
Something that I did find really interesting in this chapter concerned Donne’s view of words themselves. According to Wilcox, Donne saw an inseparable connection between his faith and his writing. He wrote, “God made us with his word, and with our words we make God” (149). For Donne, using language to express the divine was something that he must do, but at the same time it is something that he saw as impossible for him to do fully. What Wilcox said about Donne’s view of language’s inability to communicate divine things reminded me of Herbert’s poem “The Windows”, because the doubts that Herbert expresses seem very similar. (On a wholly tangential side note, it also reminds me of Karl Barth, who wrote similar things about language being fundamentally unable to express the things of God, but that was much later.) Perhaps there is something worth exploring in that Donne is writing in this tension of feeling that he must write, but also that no matter how well he writes, it will never fully articulate what he wants it to.
Guibbory, Achsah. The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Donne's Religious Affiliation
So, it turns out that The Cambridge Companion to John Donne is this super awesome collection of essays, some of which have titles that sound exciting and related to my research! So that's super exciting!
As I continue with my late night foray into Donne scholarship, this blog will probably see a few more articles from this same book, because it's awesome. The one I'm looking at at the moment is called "Donne's religious world" by Alison Shell and Arnold Hunt. This article is cool because it is examining Donne's interactions with the prevailing religious ideas of his time, and how he responded to them. I find it particularly interesting that Donne seems to have almost pointedly avoided identifying with a particular religious ideology, in most cases referring to his religious affiliations as merely “Christian”. Shell and Hunt point out that in Pseudo-Martyr, “he characterizes himself as one who ‘dares not call his Religion by some newer name than Christian.’ But in his will, written in December 1630, three months before his death, he chose to define himself in more detail, not merely as a Christian but as a member of the established Church of England” (67).
Shell and Hunt demonstrate why scholars seem to always disagree over whether Donne was better categorized as Catholic or Protestant in showing how different parts of Donne’s writings support, by turns, different parts of the often-conflicting ideas of the two distinct facets of Christianity. They conclude by pointing out Donne’s “emotionally charged interest in finding common ground between the denominations” (78). Reading Donne’s religious writings makes it clear that his beliefs are extremely nuanced and difficult to decipher. We will probably never have a full understanding of how Donne understood the divide between two denominations at war.
In my researching, I’m hoping to zero in on Donne’s use of the paradox, and how his paradoxical constructions inform his notion of the self. Reading his works gives me the impression that Donne thinks that to be human is to be at the point of contradiction of several paradoxes at once. I think that perhaps an examination of his religious affiliations (or lack thereof) supports this idea as his faith, on which he constructs his view of the rest of the world, seems to itself affirm contradictory things, and perhaps to embrace the paradoxes from which he writes so often.
Guibbory, Achsah. The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
As I continue with my late night foray into Donne scholarship, this blog will probably see a few more articles from this same book, because it's awesome. The one I'm looking at at the moment is called "Donne's religious world" by Alison Shell and Arnold Hunt. This article is cool because it is examining Donne's interactions with the prevailing religious ideas of his time, and how he responded to them. I find it particularly interesting that Donne seems to have almost pointedly avoided identifying with a particular religious ideology, in most cases referring to his religious affiliations as merely “Christian”. Shell and Hunt point out that in Pseudo-Martyr, “he characterizes himself as one who ‘dares not call his Religion by some newer name than Christian.’ But in his will, written in December 1630, three months before his death, he chose to define himself in more detail, not merely as a Christian but as a member of the established Church of England” (67).
Shell and Hunt demonstrate why scholars seem to always disagree over whether Donne was better categorized as Catholic or Protestant in showing how different parts of Donne’s writings support, by turns, different parts of the often-conflicting ideas of the two distinct facets of Christianity. They conclude by pointing out Donne’s “emotionally charged interest in finding common ground between the denominations” (78). Reading Donne’s religious writings makes it clear that his beliefs are extremely nuanced and difficult to decipher. We will probably never have a full understanding of how Donne understood the divide between two denominations at war.
In my researching, I’m hoping to zero in on Donne’s use of the paradox, and how his paradoxical constructions inform his notion of the self. Reading his works gives me the impression that Donne thinks that to be human is to be at the point of contradiction of several paradoxes at once. I think that perhaps an examination of his religious affiliations (or lack thereof) supports this idea as his faith, on which he constructs his view of the rest of the world, seems to itself affirm contradictory things, and perhaps to embrace the paradoxes from which he writes so often.
Guibbory, Achsah. The Cambridge Companion to John Donne. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
James I's Split Personality
As I was researching yesterday, I ran across a lot of really wonderful sources. One in particular was the article "James I and the Theater of Conscience," by Jonathan Goldberg. In this article, Goldberg pulls on a few threads that many other critics also carry forward, and I believe that there is a good chance that his basic premise may become one of the main underlying ideas of my paper.
In a nutshell, Goldberg argues that James I was caught between two ways of understanding kingship, and that he couldn't make a decision for himself which one he preferred. One way was based in Stoicism. This image was linked with a "transparent, knowable" king, who can be understood by his subjects (380). This theory of selfhood promotes equality of all souls, and as a Christian monarch it is important for him to appear this way (381). However, this Stoic philosophy also encourages rebellion when individual consciousness demands it (381). Because of this, James I also required another identity construction: that of the "misread king," the king who is far beyond his subjects' understanding. This king has his basis in Roman law (380). To this end, James I emphasized his Divine Right, which both set him up as a ruler who could not be questioned and a ruler who owed all of his acts to God (382). Both the Stoic and the Roman perceptions of kingship were important for James to create the identity that he desired, but they also undercut each other in damning ways (382).
This idea is especially interesting in light of all of the discussion we have had about Elizabeth. As I argued in my previous paper, Elizabeth I's consolidation of contradictory opposites is what gave her so much power, and yet James I's opposites created inconsistency and instability. Why is this so? I think that the answer to this question will be my thesis, but it's worth thinking about the extent to which James was actually free to define himself during this time period. While Elizabeth managed to define for herself what right government should look like, James I's reign featured a great many poets, writers, and theorists believing that they had a right to a governmental voice: Hobbes, Filmer, Milton, and Jonson are just a few examples of poets who begin to claim to understand true morality during this time period. In fact, the treatises by Filmer and Milton that we read for class on Thursday comment directly on the two different constructions of identity that James I utilized during his reign. Milton, who believes that "all men naturally were born free" (1847), aligns with the Stoic side of James's identity: Filmer, who believes that monarchs are necessary because the history of patriarchs in the Bible (1844-1846), aligns with the Roman side. In both cases, writers feel totally justified in weighing in on political issues and claiming a knowledge of morality. Additionally, other sources in my research (specifically The Stuart Court Masque and Political Culture, by Martin Butler) have shown that masques, or art forms, were used to teach moral lessons to the royal Prince Henry. When masques are used to dispel morality to princes and poems claim to have a moral truth, it is clear that the role of prose and poetry have shifted from venerating Elizabeth and cleverly promoting one's own agenda to actually explicitly asserting one's own right to governance. Perhaps this also works with Debora Shuger's mirror article in Renaissance Culture and the Everyday, in the idea that consciousness becomes more focused on the self than the other. If one trusts the self, one is more likely to assert what the self wants.
For anyone who is researching masques/antimasques, James I's identity construction, or the shifts of mind and consciousness during the time period, this article is really quite fascinating, and I recommend it highly. Otherwise--happy researching!
Goldberg, Jonathan. "James I and the Theater of Conscience." ELH 46.3 (1979): 379-398. JStor. Web. 25 April 2015.
In a nutshell, Goldberg argues that James I was caught between two ways of understanding kingship, and that he couldn't make a decision for himself which one he preferred. One way was based in Stoicism. This image was linked with a "transparent, knowable" king, who can be understood by his subjects (380). This theory of selfhood promotes equality of all souls, and as a Christian monarch it is important for him to appear this way (381). However, this Stoic philosophy also encourages rebellion when individual consciousness demands it (381). Because of this, James I also required another identity construction: that of the "misread king," the king who is far beyond his subjects' understanding. This king has his basis in Roman law (380). To this end, James I emphasized his Divine Right, which both set him up as a ruler who could not be questioned and a ruler who owed all of his acts to God (382). Both the Stoic and the Roman perceptions of kingship were important for James to create the identity that he desired, but they also undercut each other in damning ways (382).
This idea is especially interesting in light of all of the discussion we have had about Elizabeth. As I argued in my previous paper, Elizabeth I's consolidation of contradictory opposites is what gave her so much power, and yet James I's opposites created inconsistency and instability. Why is this so? I think that the answer to this question will be my thesis, but it's worth thinking about the extent to which James was actually free to define himself during this time period. While Elizabeth managed to define for herself what right government should look like, James I's reign featured a great many poets, writers, and theorists believing that they had a right to a governmental voice: Hobbes, Filmer, Milton, and Jonson are just a few examples of poets who begin to claim to understand true morality during this time period. In fact, the treatises by Filmer and Milton that we read for class on Thursday comment directly on the two different constructions of identity that James I utilized during his reign. Milton, who believes that "all men naturally were born free" (1847), aligns with the Stoic side of James's identity: Filmer, who believes that monarchs are necessary because the history of patriarchs in the Bible (1844-1846), aligns with the Roman side. In both cases, writers feel totally justified in weighing in on political issues and claiming a knowledge of morality. Additionally, other sources in my research (specifically The Stuart Court Masque and Political Culture, by Martin Butler) have shown that masques, or art forms, were used to teach moral lessons to the royal Prince Henry. When masques are used to dispel morality to princes and poems claim to have a moral truth, it is clear that the role of prose and poetry have shifted from venerating Elizabeth and cleverly promoting one's own agenda to actually explicitly asserting one's own right to governance. Perhaps this also works with Debora Shuger's mirror article in Renaissance Culture and the Everyday, in the idea that consciousness becomes more focused on the self than the other. If one trusts the self, one is more likely to assert what the self wants.
For anyone who is researching masques/antimasques, James I's identity construction, or the shifts of mind and consciousness during the time period, this article is really quite fascinating, and I recommend it highly. Otherwise--happy researching!
Goldberg, Jonathan. "James I and the Theater of Conscience." ELH 46.3 (1979): 379-398. JStor. Web. 25 April 2015.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Paying £s to Gain Pounds: James, Feasting, and Morality
One article that I just thought was
so interesting today was Leah Sinanoglou Marcus’s “The Occasion of Ben Jonson’s
Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue.”
Admittedly, I think that part of the reason why I enjoyed this article so much
was because it talked a lot about food: specifically, about how lavish food was
during James I’s reign. Courtiers would frequently spend £1000 or more for a
feast (287), which is incredible! Marcus uses food as an example of the way
that James I actually encouraged temperance from his court: in the way of food,
James urged them to dine moderately. “Let all your food bee simple, without
composition or sauces,” he urges Charles (288). Nevertheless, his courtiers
continued to spend lavishly (288). In her article, Marcus examines this and a
few other examples in order to show how the debauchery of James I’s court was,
in many cases, not his fault. James I attempted to walk the line of virtue, and
he wrote documents such as The Book of
Sports in order to explain acceptable pastimes in terms of good, Protestant
values (277). Despite these, he was villainized by people on both sides of the religious
spectrum. The premise of Marcus’s article is that Jonson’s masque, Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue, was a
celebration of James I’s actual, moralistic policies, but that nobody
appreciated Jonson’s message—not even James himself.
This article is an interesting
contrast to the thesis I am trying to build, which is that James I’s image was
not strong enough to define a confident morality, so others stepped in and
tried to define their own—especially writers. In this article, Marcus is
arguing that Jonson used masques like Pleasure
Reconciled to Virtue to celebrate James I’s morality: thus, an artist
trying to build up the morality of the king. The question is, why didn’t this
work? Was it, as Marcus suggests, because Jonson overestimated his audience
(293)? Was it because James’s persona was not brave and chivalrous enough to
claim respect from his citizens? Was it because courtiers simply weren’t
interested in being moralized to? Again, I think of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, which was not successful because
its satire rested confusingly on its audience. While they do not appreciate
being moralized to in play format, they do appreciate and respect sermons, such
as Donne’s. This makes me wonder about artists and their claiming of morality,
especially in conjunction with the Puritan takeover later in the century. Is it
the clash between these claims to morality that necessitate the closing of the
theaters? What is the public opinion of the people toward artists claiming
morality, the king claiming morality, and religious preachers claiming
morality? I personally know that I will be examining these questions more fully
as I continue to work on this paper.
Caleb, if you’re still working on
masques and antimasques, I would recommend this article if you want to read a
discussion about where James I stood on religious festivals or luxurious
feasts. I’m leaving the citation information below. To everyone else: happy
researching!
Marcus, Leah Sinanoglou. “The
Occasion of Ben Jonson’s Pleasure
Reconciled to Virtue.” Studies in
English Literature (Rice) 19 (1979): 271-293. Ebsco. Web. 25 April 2015.
Herbert, Donne, and Humility
One article I really enjoyed this
weekend was Sidney Gottlieb’s “Herbert’s Political Allegory of ‘Humilitie.’” In
this article, Gottlieb closely examines one of Herbert’s lesser-analyzed poems,
“Humilite,” and considers how Herbert uses the poem to show the breakdowns of
virtue in the English court, particularly in patronage. In the poem, the
Vertues all sit on a throne together, and each (except Humilitie) is given a
different gift. The gifts are all body parts, a fact that Gottlieb argues
highlights the cut-throat, non-loving nature of patronage (472). The fact that
the Vertues need gifts also shows that the Vertues are no longer
self-sufficient (473). This fits in well with the idea that, in this time
period, the responsibility for morality shifted from the monarch/court to the
artists, which is the basis of my thesis. Because the king/court (symbolized by
the Vertues receiving gifts upon a throne) are no longer self-sufficient, the
responsibility for defining virtue must come from somewhere else. As Herbert
writes this poem to point out the problem, it can be argued that he is coming
forward to point the way to true morality, as many writers (Donne, Hobbes,
etc.) attempt to do during this time period. I believe that it is also relevant
that, in a court that used to value sprezzatura,
true morality is seen increasingly not as being good at everything without
trying, but instead in trying: in
demonstrating good, hard work. Instead of all of the Vertues working together
to make the perfect kingdom, as might have been in an earlier poem, Humilitie
is the best Vertue which saves the others—temporarily—from total destruction
(475). It is not necessarily being good at everything, but being good at one
particular thing, that can spell morality in seventeenth-century England.
Donne’s “Meditations” can be related to my theme/thesis in a similar way. As I argued in class, Donne’s “Meditation 4” is a study in self-insufficiency: by referencing the Physician, Donne is fundamentally arguing that humankind cannot take care of itself (Norton 1420). While Elizabethans projected sprezzatura to show their own larger-than-life-ness (and, in some cases, to claim divine qualities), Donne shows that man can never reach the realm of God: in fact, he is always in need of God to save him from himself. Instead of being proud of themselves for all of their talents, Donne would likely argue that the greatest quality is humility before God. Like Herbert, Donne is an artist who is claiming a different understanding of morality than the court’s, a message that was ripe for the time, especially since the court was seen as so immoral during James I’s rule.
I thought this article was fascinating, and I would recommend it as background reading for anyone who is planning on using Herbert in their paper. Gottlieb also talks a bit about Herbert as writing “poetry of criticism” and about Herbert’s work as structurally arguing that morality can only come to someone while apart from the court. You should check it out!
Gottlieb, Sidney. “Herbert’s
Political Allegory of ‘Humilitie.’” Huntington
Library Quarterly 52.4 (1989): 469-480. JStor.
Web. 25 April 2015.
Elizabeth's Complicated Self-Portrayal: Music Edition
Katherine Butler’s Music in Elizabethan Court Politics was published sometime in the last four months, and is exactly geared toward what I’m writing my paper about, thus validating my research and my life. I still feel like I should write about it here because there are plenty of things within the book that may apply to other people in the class, especially those focusing on Elizabeth’s self-portrayal. There is a section in this book that talks about Elizabeth’s reputation as a musician and her portrayal as such in a royal portrait. In it, Elizabeth carries a lute, and is in fact actively playing it – extremely unusual for a portrait of an upper-class woman. Apparently, this would generally be used to portray a prostitute or otherwise wanton character, but in this instance, with Elizabeth’s high-necked gown and the throne rising up behind her, it seems instead to connote political harmony. It’s just fascinating.
Perhaps even more fascinating is the fact that this painting – a miniature – was not for the public eye, but was instead a private gift to a friend, who likely had the pleasure of hearing Elizabeth play the lute in person many times. This complicates Elizabeth’s self-portrayal. Here, she is not just presenting herself as a talented musician to the public, but is instead weaving a political statement inside of a personal gift.
While I’ve read arguments over and over about how Elizabeth uses the culture of music to portray herself in a certain light, and essentially manipulates her courtiers and musicians to also portray her political power, I have not previously read a detailed argument about the political power this also gave the court. The court, Butler argues, is also empowered by music – a courtier may use music to suck up to Elizabeth (i.e. portray her in a certain light), but on the other end, he is also using it for his own political gain.
Butler’s research covers such political games of courtiers, uses for music, and self-portrayals and outside representations of Elizabeth. Music is, she argues, much more complicated politically than other research leads us to believe.
Butler, Katherine. Music in Elizabethan Court Politics. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press,
2015. Print.
We Want War!: Why Nobody Liked Poor, Peaceful James I
I’ve been really excited by this
online resource that the library has—it’s an e-book called Court Culture and the Origins of a Royalist Tradition in Early Stuart
England. Because I’ve been studying court culture and James’s identity
construction, this book’s focuses seem very relevant to me. One chapter that
has been particularly useful this far has been the second chapter, “The Stuarts
and the Elizabethan Legend.” This chapter outlines some of the distinctive
factors of Elizabeth’s identity construction and explains why the Stuarts
weren’t able to use the same methods that Elizabeth used. In particular, the
author—Malcolm Smuts—is very insistent that the largest problems the Stuarts
had were related to their religious wars. Elizabeth, he argues, became “the
chief symbol of a cultural tradition embodying the aspirations, the religious
values, and the patriotism that grew out of the lengthy victorious struggle
against domestic and foreign enemies” (15). The people loved that she stood for
a Protestant kingdom, and they used warrior-like, chivalric imagery to connect
her with the legacy of a defender. On the other hand, James sought peace with
Spain, something that many found offensive. As Smuts notes, “the Jacobean
please probably served the nation’s best interests and undoubtedly saved the
crown from insolvency, but James’s pacific and pro-Spanish policies nonetheless
provoked considerable discontent” (25). With his peaceful goals, James could
not utilize the images that Elizabeth used as defender and crusader, and the
images had to be reinterpreted for him. For instance, while Queen Elizabeth was
compared to the chivalric King Arthur, James was compared to King Arthur as a
keeper of the peace (25). In general, then, the most important difference
between Queen Elizabeth and King James’s identity construction was related to
the Wars of Religion—Queen Elizabeth was seen as a defender, while James was
seen as weak and unable to follow in Elizabeth’s footsteps. It does not matter
if these accusations are unfair or if James was making the best decisions for
England at the time: that is still how these views are broken up.
This idea fits really well with The Knight of the Burning Pestle. While the actors are more interested in telling the story of an apprentice and his master's daughter, Nell and George demand a tale of high chivalry. They, like the general public in England at the time, wanted the medieval myth of honor, and they were peeved at James I for instead seeking peace with Spain. Even more tellingly, Nell and George demand that Rafe goes off to battle at the end of the play. They are calling for war, showing that the middle class at the time wanted the glory that comes with war, not the safety that comes with peace. In a context like this, James's policies would not go over well, even if they were good policies.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Base Trade: Theater as Prostitution
In the article “Base Trade: Theater as Prostitution,” Joseph
Lenz explores contemporary criticisms of Elizabethan and Jacobean theater in
the analogy of theater as prostitution. This article was immensely helpful for
my paper since it shows that it was not only Puritans, but the general public
and political leaders who were critical of theater. I think the article can
also help illuminate the satire in The
Knight of the Burning Pestle. While the citizen George and his wife Nell
are not necessarily puritans, they still voice outwardly their dissatisfaction
with performances who satirize citizens of London.
Lenz argues that the Lord Mayor, along with the general
public, became aligned with thinking of the theater as prostitution, firstly
because of the physical proximity of the theater to brothels. Lenz cites Ann
Cook, who asserts that the theaters even operated as an extension of a brothel
because they brought clients and prostitutes together, where men could satisfy their
“appetites” through more than spectatorship or visual entertainment.
Furthermore, there was an “inn” called the Little Rose which was a site for
prostitution. In 1586, the Little Rose “lent its grounds, its name, and,
evidently, its reputation” to Philip Henslowe who “established the place of the
stage on common ground with the brothel” (837-838). Eventually the Privy Council began restricting
the number of theaters to the Fortune and the Globe in 1600 in response to the
concern for immoral behavior.
While theaters might have received a reputation for lechery
and debauchery because of physical proximity to prostitution, does this really
mean that theater, as a form of art and entertainment, is inherently immoral?
Puritans would argue indeed, the very nature of theatrical
performances resembled the actions of prostitution. Critics of theater, such as
John Northbrooke, claims “our eyes are as windows of the mynde” and that theater is “the beginning of
whoredome” (840). Scripture gives evidence that one can commit sin merely by
sight: “whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery
with her already in his heart” (Mat 5:28).
Theater’s response to such criticism comes by redirecting the
reproach in the form of satire. In The
Knight of the Burning Pestle, George and Nell are also the source for much
of the bawdy humor and covert lechery. In the introduction of the play the
Prologue says to the audience: “Fly far from hence/ all private taxes, immodest
phrases…thus much for that we do, but for Rafe’s part you must cope.” The
prologue suggests that the immorality contained within the play are not
inherent to the performance, but are instead extraneously, and even
unconsciously projected onto theater by spectators. George and Nell applaud the
changes they make, which include bawdy jokes and sexual innuendos. The
immorality contained within The Knight is
refocused by satirizing the citizens of London.
If you would like to read more of this article, here's the citation:
Lenz, Joseph. “Base Trade: Theater as Prostitution.” ELH 60.4 (1993): 833-855. JSTOR. Web. 24 Apr 2015.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
"Instruments" of Satire
In the article “Reading Between the Acts,” Joshua Smith
argues that a look at the references to music and the performances during the
interludes of the play The Knight of the
Burning Pestle can be a key to understanding the satire of conventions of
theater and class culture. Smith takes a close look at the cultural context
behind musical instruments described in the play as well as the function of the
May Day celebration at the end of the play.
Smith outlines the social status of the Citizen, George, and
his wife Nell. In the sixteenth century, guilds of the working class became
split into two sub-classes: the livery (ruling minority of successful
craftsmen) and the yeomen (majority of less successful craftsmen). George
proclaims his social status on stage as a freeman and a grocer, a citizen on
London who is successful enough to have an apprentice, Rafe, and who is wealthy
enough to attend a private theater.
However, Nell and George commit several faux paus and reveal
that she is not accustomed to the conventions of private theaters. When Nell
equates fiddles to rebecks in interlude 1, she exposes the fact that she cannot
tell the difference between instruments; violins were popular among private
theaters and elite entertainment, while rebecks had fallen out of popularity by
the end of the sixteenth century. In the same act, when George requests shawms,
he reveals he is more accustomed to the loud instruments of the street
musicians and public theaters rather than private theaters. In Act 2, when Nell
requests drums and trumpets to accompany Rafe, she recognizes that such
instruments were used to accompany military scenes, but are more suited to the
open air of the battle field or public theater instead of enclosed private
theaters. Nell and George may be satirized by their lack of instrumental
knowledge; however their position on stage and their critiques causes them to
assume the position of a patron or a wealthy, high class citizen.
When Rafe adopts the role of May Lord act IV, Smith asserts
Rafe’s lines and Nell and George’s commentary satirizes the aristocratic
classes. The instruments, the morris dance, and the festivities were all common
elements of the May Day festivals and dances. Originally the festivals were
held in the thirteenth century when people would travel from towns to the
country, gather greenery, return to the town and decorate streets, then
commence in dancing. Though Queen
Elizabeth I attended May dances, such festivals were criticized by aristocrats
because authorities condemned these festivities because of disorder and even
fatal accidents. The morris dance which Nell calls for might have actually been
a controversial dance if performed since it was banned in some parts of England
in 1571.
In Smith’s conclusion of his article, he asserts that Nell
and George might have actually been the instruments as well as the object of
satire; though they possess outdated and lower class knowledge and commit
laughable faux paus, they also serve to remind the elite that they are,
perhaps, equally ridiculous and have neglected their duty to the lower classes.
Source: Smith, Joshua S. "Reading between the Acts: Satire and the Interludes in The Knight of the Burning Pestle." Studies in Philology 109.4 (2012): 474-495. Academic Search Complete. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Here's the link to the article online:
http://198.29.3.5:2048/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=85404145&site=ehost-live
Monday, April 13, 2015
Lactation and Plague...?
I found this marvelous book called Medieval and Renaissance Lactations. So first things first, go to Amazon and stock up on a few copies for baby showers.
I'm using one chapter of this book for my research called "Mother London and the Madonna Lactans in England's Plague Epic," by Rebecca Totaro and it's full of great stuff. It talks a lot about the decreasing frequency of plague outbreak right at the end of the 16th century, and the few really bad years of plague right after James' accession (1603-11). His coronation was literally postponed because there was a really bad plague outbreak in London in the summer of 1603.
The reactions people had were pretty understandable. They felt like they'd been making a lot of medical and religious progress during Elizabeth's reign, and for the plague to come back in full force right after her death and James' accession really rattled everyone. They thought a lot about whether England's religious reforms might be wrong, and that God was angry with their belief that they could even attempt to assign scientific meaning to the plague.
Totaro explains the artistic reaction to these feelings: the "plague epic." What she calls the plague epic, is a versified account and exploration of plague epidemics. Compared to 16th century representations, which were mainly prosaic and focused on documentation, the plague epic is set in heroic verse that mourns England's losses. A prominent figure in many of these works is Mother London, "a new kind of hero, a model for how to suffer through and survive the plague" (151). She is designed (according to Totaro) to represent all Christians and to posit moral reform, and the destruction that will result if no reform is made.
Totaro then compares this image of Mother London to the Catholic iconography of the Virgin Mary breastfeeding (the Madonna Lactans). This link is really interesting, because it expresses all the doubt that the English people suddenly felt about Protestantism, and the resurgence of some Catholic ideas as a result.
Anyway, super interesting essay. This is a great book, and she makes all sorts of references to Elizabeth's self-fashioning, legislative history, etc. A lot of the other essays deal with wider European issues, but this one has some killer footnotes on all sorts of things, so let me know if you want to take a look.
Totaro, Rebecca. "Mother London and the Madonna Lactans in England's Plague Epic." Ed. Jutta G. Sperling. Medieval and Renaissance Lactations: Images, Rhetorics, Practices. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Limited, 2013. 147-64. Print.
I'm using one chapter of this book for my research called "Mother London and the Madonna Lactans in England's Plague Epic," by Rebecca Totaro and it's full of great stuff. It talks a lot about the decreasing frequency of plague outbreak right at the end of the 16th century, and the few really bad years of plague right after James' accession (1603-11). His coronation was literally postponed because there was a really bad plague outbreak in London in the summer of 1603.
The reactions people had were pretty understandable. They felt like they'd been making a lot of medical and religious progress during Elizabeth's reign, and for the plague to come back in full force right after her death and James' accession really rattled everyone. They thought a lot about whether England's religious reforms might be wrong, and that God was angry with their belief that they could even attempt to assign scientific meaning to the plague.
Totaro explains the artistic reaction to these feelings: the "plague epic." What she calls the plague epic, is a versified account and exploration of plague epidemics. Compared to 16th century representations, which were mainly prosaic and focused on documentation, the plague epic is set in heroic verse that mourns England's losses. A prominent figure in many of these works is Mother London, "a new kind of hero, a model for how to suffer through and survive the plague" (151). She is designed (according to Totaro) to represent all Christians and to posit moral reform, and the destruction that will result if no reform is made.
Totaro then compares this image of Mother London to the Catholic iconography of the Virgin Mary breastfeeding (the Madonna Lactans). This link is really interesting, because it expresses all the doubt that the English people suddenly felt about Protestantism, and the resurgence of some Catholic ideas as a result.
Anyway, super interesting essay. This is a great book, and she makes all sorts of references to Elizabeth's self-fashioning, legislative history, etc. A lot of the other essays deal with wider European issues, but this one has some killer footnotes on all sorts of things, so let me know if you want to take a look.
Totaro, Rebecca. "Mother London and the Madonna Lactans in England's Plague Epic." Ed. Jutta G. Sperling. Medieval and Renaissance Lactations: Images, Rhetorics, Practices. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Limited, 2013. 147-64. Print.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
The Country as Metaphor
An article I read this week that I
found interesting was “Caroline Culture: Bridging Court and Country?,” by J.C.
Robertson from Washington University, St. Louis. In this article, Robertson
strives to challenge the ways that scholars have traditionally looked at
Jacobean culture. Robertson argues that, while many see Jacobean culture as
insulated and alien from the “country” culture of the common man, in fact court
culture found its way into more of the mainstream than scholars might like to
admit (404). Similarly, he argues that the “country house” poem, the greatest
indication that scholars have for an innocent, unpolluted English Presbyterian
countryside, does not really support anything of the sort (392). Firstly,
Robertson cites, these country house poems are free from agricultural labor and
“demonstrate … their own distance from the countryside” (392). Secondly, they “defined
such households’ virtues less through contrasts with urban standards than
against the actions of more exploitative estate-owners: the idealized country
houses were exceptional” (292). These observations, added with the fact that
James I actually encouraged his courtiers to spend extended amounts of time in
the countryside (393), discredit the idea that there was a huge split between “court”
culture and “country” culture: those who wrote about the country spent much
time at court, and those who wrote about court spent much time in the country.
It is only natural that the two would blend a little bit.
This article made me think a lot about Amelia Lanyer’s “To Cookham,” an example of a country house poem. In class, we discussed how Lanyer’s poem is different from many other country house poems because of the way that it does not praise Cookham outright for most of the poem, and also because it vacillates between prelapsarian and postlapsarian views of Cookham. Something about this entire poem is melancholy—even when Lanyer is praising Cookham at the very beginning, she brings up Philomela in the 31st line, a symbol of an experience gone wrong (1437). We spoke in class about Lanyer using the melancholy tone to communicate that some of her memory is leaving her, but I wonder if her use can also be seen as a realization that the country life is not as perfect as it may be portrayed to be. While Lanyer might not have meant to discredit the country and the peace it was supposed to bestow, the fact that she uses in the country in her poem in this complex, imperfect way shows that she is more focused on communicating her own experience than extolling the graces of the country. The country is merely a backdrop for her point. In “To Cookham,” then, the country is used more as a symbol to play with and use, not an actual place to be praised literally. Similarly, perhaps other country house poems like “To Penshurst” are more about the idea of a perfect, Edenic location than the actual existence of a morally superior countryside. This is certainly what Robertson is arguing when he says that the authors of country poems showed that they never actually understood the countryside (392). Their writing was never about the place, really—it was about a place being used as a symbol. Thus, perhaps those divisions between "court" culture and "country" culture, as shown in literature, aren't about the court and the country at all. If so, though, why are these tropes being used? What purpose do they serve?
This article has certainly been useful to my own thinking, and I would say that it would be useful for anyone who was trying to get a nuanced sense of what the Jacobean relation between the court and the countryside really looked like, perhaps if they were looking at rhetoric. I am not sure that that is true for anyone else, however. At any rate, I’ll attach the bibliography information below for anyone who might be interested.
Henry VIII is to Henry Frederick as Henry VIII is to James I as Henry VIII is to Elizabeth I...
While I was researching this
weekend, I came across an interesting article, entitled Henry VIII, Shakespeare, and the Jacobean Royal Court. This
article, written by James Madison University professor Mark Rankin, is an
analysis of the ways that Henry VIII’s image was used in plays to give legitimacy to
James and James’s son, Henry Frederick. One play is by Samuel Rowley and is
entitled When You See Me, You Know Me:
this play, Rankin argues, explicitly connects Henry VIII with Henry Frederick,
utilizing such language as: “Now [Jane Seymour] God bring me but a chopping
boy, / Be but the Mother to a Prince of Wales / Ad a ninth Henrie to the English
Crowne, / And thou mak’st full my hopes” (353). James’s son, Henry Frederick,
was the Prince of Wales as well, so the connections between the two Henrys
would have been very apparent to any modern-day audience. In the second part of
his argument, Rankin connects the image of Henry VIII in Shakespeare’s Henry VIII to James I: instead of
focusing on doctrine, Henry VIII
instead focuses on the supreme religious authority of kings and on factional
disputes in the kingdom, both ideas that harken neatly back to James (360).
I think Rankin's point is especially interesting because it is useful to consider how much authority can be given someone by harkening back to the past. In class, we spoke a lot about how much Chaucer enjoyed projecting his own knowledge by using fake etymologies and studding his writing with Greek and Roman references. Furthermore, we talked most recently about neo-classicism in poetry, like Ben Jonson’s “To John Donne,” which makes claims to authority by bringing in references to Phoebus and artistic muses and by privileging intellect over emotion (1541). The Greeks, of course, similarly prized reason over all else in their work. It’s not unusual, then, to see artists harkening back to the past to lend legitimacy to James and his son. What is interesting is that they chose Henry VIII as their past figure. Even though Elizabeth’s legacy was still being cemented in this time period, she was not seen as a suitable figure for comparison. Is this because she was a woman, because she was too recent, or because her image simply wouldn’t have worked for James and Henry Frederick? Similarly, Elizabeth herself harkened back to her father’s reputation when she first took the throne. Could this set Elizabeth and James up instead as parallels, as two great legacies that would stem from the same progenitor?
At any rate, I think that this article could be useful for anyone who is trying to dissect the rhetoric of James I’s reign or anyone who is looking at the legacy of Henry Frederick, which I personally find fascinating. I am going to keep my eyes out for more ways that Henry VIII is elicited in our texts from this time period or more ways that James is depicted, so that I can compare Rankin’s articles to those depictions.
Thanks, everyone!
Rankin, Mark. “Henry VIII,
Shakespeare, and the Jacobean Royal Court.” Studies
in English Literature 1500-1900 51.2 (2011): 349-366. Print.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Courtly Rhetoric, Elizabeth's Holiness, James's Failures, and a Great EEBO Source!
One resource that I found while
researching for our first paper (and that has been really helpful while I've been revising) was an article from the EEBO
called “An Oration Made to the Queenes Maiestie, at Sandwiche, the First of
September, the Yere of Our Lorde, 1573.” (You can find it by searching the
“Elizabeth I—Orations” tab on EEBO.) Hannah Cobb and I were actually
studying/writing our papers at the same time, and I was reading the article out
loud because that’s just a lot easier with EEBO resources. Anyway, Hannah
overheard some of the content and asked if she could use the essay, too. It’s
really interesting…it’s a speech that some people (I’m not sure what their
station is, exactly) made to Elizabeth to ask her to increase the influence of their town. Spicer of course
praises Elizabeth a lot—because he’s
trying to get her to do something for him—but the speech shows how Elizabeth
wanted to be perceived and how her people were told to perceive her. It’s
especially religious and contains a lot about her virtue and her position as
“defender of the faith.”
One thing that I’m thinking about
doing for my next paper is comparing Elizabeth’s construction of identity with
James I’s and kind of analyzing why Elizabeth’s was so much more effective. I
think that this article is especially good at showing how one must speak to get
any respect in government. Even though the oration was given by a subject, he had
to speak with elevated language, making religious allusions and praising a
higher power (in this case, Elizabeth), in order to get what he wants. Similarly,
Elizabeth also speaks with elevated language and praises a higher power (in her
case, God). This practiced humility compounded with obvious oratorical ability
gives a lot of credence to the Renaissance figure. I really get the impression
that James isn’t good at this, though. Doug mentioned in our conference that
James used to walk around the castle in his underwear, which would definitely
undermine any pretensions to sophistication that he might have. James also,
judging by the letters this week, wasn’t very good at humbling himself. In his
letters to Elizabeth he isn’t particularly praising ("I rue my sight that views the evident spectacle of a seduced queen" (375)) and when he does invoke God, he seems
to do it as a total afterthought (the only time he mentions God is the penultimate sentence, "I commit you ... to the holy protection of the Almighty" (377)). After someone like Elizabeth, who so
perfectly emulated courtly rhetoric, James wouldn’t be impressive at all.
I suppose I got a little
off-topic there, but in this EEBO article, Spicer is definitely emulating a lot
of things that could be useful in a lot of different papers, whether someone is
talking about Elizabeth’s fantastic virtue, Elizabeth’s proficiency at
projecting her image to her audience, or the courtly rhetoric that everyone was
expected to use during the Renaissance. I highly recommend everyone to check
this source out.
Spicer,
Richard. “An Oration Made to the Queenes Maiestie, at Sandwiche, the First of
September, the Yere of Our Lorde, 1573.” 1573. EEBO. Web. 26 Feb. 2015.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
The Renaissance Englishwoman in Code
I found a lot of really great stuff over the last few weeks, but I was unfortunately a little too busy with the paper to actually post anything. Here's something, though, that I thought was really interesting and that I'm toying with trying to work into my next paper.
The article is called "The Renaissance Englishwoman in Code: 'Blabbs' and Cryptographers at Elizabeth I's Court." It's by Elizabeth Mazzola, and it's about how women like Mary Stuart used their feminine image to encode messages in the court. Mazzola argues that, because men assumed that women were making spelling and grammar mistakes because of inferior intelligence, women could actually encode their messages easily (1). Mazzola also points out that Elizabeth didn't do this. It's especially interesting to me because my paper focuses a lot on how Elizabeth appeals to her femininity to get improve her image and subversively claim more power. I suppose, though, that there isn't anything for her to gain by seeming uneducated--she has enough power that she can say things more outright. It would be interesting, though, to compare Mazzola's ideas with Elizabeth while she is still a princess. During that stage, Elizabeth does seem to often downplay her own intelligence, as when she tells Katherine Parr that her translations aren't very good (Marcus, Mueller, and Rose 7). It's also interesting to think about how Elizabeth's projection of her own intelligence changes throughout her reign--her letters to James by 1593 are surprisingly snarky and forceful. It really illuminates a lot about power structures and who is allowed to have power in Renaissance England. Does Elizabeth have more power when she is falling back on her feminine virtue, or when she is projecting power outright?
I think a lot of us are writing about Elizabeth's construction of identity, so if anyone is interested in how women like Mary Stuart used stereotypes to send messages and "have a voice," then this might be a cool article to check out. Otherwise, I hope that everyone's research is going well!
Mazzola, Elizabeth. "The Renaissance Englishwoman in Code: 'Blabbs' and Cryptographers at Elizabeth I's Court." Critical Survey 22.3 (2010): 1-20. Ebsco. Web. 26 Feb. 2015.
The article is called "The Renaissance Englishwoman in Code: 'Blabbs' and Cryptographers at Elizabeth I's Court." It's by Elizabeth Mazzola, and it's about how women like Mary Stuart used their feminine image to encode messages in the court. Mazzola argues that, because men assumed that women were making spelling and grammar mistakes because of inferior intelligence, women could actually encode their messages easily (1). Mazzola also points out that Elizabeth didn't do this. It's especially interesting to me because my paper focuses a lot on how Elizabeth appeals to her femininity to get improve her image and subversively claim more power. I suppose, though, that there isn't anything for her to gain by seeming uneducated--she has enough power that she can say things more outright. It would be interesting, though, to compare Mazzola's ideas with Elizabeth while she is still a princess. During that stage, Elizabeth does seem to often downplay her own intelligence, as when she tells Katherine Parr that her translations aren't very good (Marcus, Mueller, and Rose 7). It's also interesting to think about how Elizabeth's projection of her own intelligence changes throughout her reign--her letters to James by 1593 are surprisingly snarky and forceful. It really illuminates a lot about power structures and who is allowed to have power in Renaissance England. Does Elizabeth have more power when she is falling back on her feminine virtue, or when she is projecting power outright?
I think a lot of us are writing about Elizabeth's construction of identity, so if anyone is interested in how women like Mary Stuart used stereotypes to send messages and "have a voice," then this might be a cool article to check out. Otherwise, I hope that everyone's research is going well!
Mazzola, Elizabeth. "The Renaissance Englishwoman in Code: 'Blabbs' and Cryptographers at Elizabeth I's Court." Critical Survey 22.3 (2010): 1-20. Ebsco. Web. 26 Feb. 2015.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Entertainments for Elizabeth I
If you're interested in looking at the entertainments (an earlier word for 'masques') for Elizabeth, then this book would be super helpful. I got it via ILL, but I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to also find it. I think I'm turning it in soon, or you can borrow it from me. I mean, it's kind of what I'm focusing on, so hopefully nobody else is too into this, but even if you're not, this book has some good stuff.
A great deal of this is about pageantry, but then it connects to other, broader topics. I think the section on progresses is interesting, especially from a representation standpoint. Elizabeth was famous for her progresses through England, as a means of becoming closer to her people and having her people feel closer to her. It worked, too - the progresses really encouraged that kind of mother/children image Elizabeth was going for.
There's a chapter called "Elizabeth's consciousness of her cult," which just sounds fun.The section "Elizabeth as a supernatural being," as you can tell, is a focused look at Elizabeth's various representations.
This book is just so fun. The chapters are short, but super informative, and it's really easy to read. Clearly, Jean Wilson has a sense of humor. Literally, the dedication in this thing is:
A great deal of this is about pageantry, but then it connects to other, broader topics. I think the section on progresses is interesting, especially from a representation standpoint. Elizabeth was famous for her progresses through England, as a means of becoming closer to her people and having her people feel closer to her. It worked, too - the progresses really encouraged that kind of mother/children image Elizabeth was going for.
There's a chapter called "Elizabeth's consciousness of her cult," which just sounds fun.The section "Elizabeth as a supernatural being," as you can tell, is a focused look at Elizabeth's various representations.
This book is just so fun. The chapters are short, but super informative, and it's really easy to read. Clearly, Jean Wilson has a sense of humor. Literally, the dedication in this thing is:
FOR NORMAN AND GAWAIN
WITHOUT WHOM THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
WITHOUT WHOM THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
SEVERAL YEARS AGO
A couple things. First, the amount of sass in this dedication is admirable. But also, of course an English history buff would name their kid Gawain. Of course.
Wilson,
Jean. Entertainments for Elizabeth I. Totowa:
Rowman and Littlefield, 1980. Print.
Elizabeth I: The Competition for Representation
Susan Frye's biography of Elizabeth is in our library, and it's not so much an objective biography as a feminist critique of representations of Elizabeth throughout her life.
Essentially, what Frye does is show the various ways Elizabeth is represented and then represents herself. It covers everything from the pageant at her entry to her imprisonment to her self-fashioned image late in life. The part I've focused on so far is that opening pageant, and Frye's analysis of it has helped build onto what we talked about in class.
Frye's focus is very sporadic, talking about certain subjects rather than an overview of Elizabeth's life, but should this self- vs. other- representation thing be what you're looking at, it could be helpful. (Caleb? Jade?) It's also just pretty interesting, honestly.
Essentially, what Frye does is show the various ways Elizabeth is represented and then represents herself. It covers everything from the pageant at her entry to her imprisonment to her self-fashioned image late in life. The part I've focused on so far is that opening pageant, and Frye's analysis of it has helped build onto what we talked about in class.
Frye's focus is very sporadic, talking about certain subjects rather than an overview of Elizabeth's life, but should this self- vs. other- representation thing be what you're looking at, it could be helpful. (Caleb? Jade?) It's also just pretty interesting, honestly.
Frye,
Susan. Elizabeth I: The Competition for
Representation. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. Print.
Musicians in English Society
This will probably not be relevant for any of you for your papers in this class, but I know that some of you are musicians and would appreciate cool stuff like this. And maybe it is relevant for you, so I'm just going to go for it.
Walter Woodfill's book Musicians in English Society is fantastic and amazing, and I don't care that it's over 60 years old at this point. It is the most information I've been able to find in one place about music at court, so I love it.
The section I've concentrated on is about the Chapel Royal and the King's Musick, groups which regularly played at court. The Chapel Royal was the royal church choir, while the King's Musick was employed by the crown and had lodgings at court. The value placed on both groups is clear through Woodfill's text - boys were recruited for the Chapel Royal at a young age, but once they hit puberty and their voices changed, you'd expect them to be thrown back on the streets, right? Nope. The crown hooked them up with either a position in the clergy or at a royal school. The singers were truly valued; the same goes for the musicians of the King's Musick. These were musicians - everything from lute to trombone to viol - that belonged to the ruler. James and Charles had more than Elizabeth, but even Elizabeth had on average 30 musicians in the King's Musick (which, as far as I could tell in the book, doesn't change to Queen's Musick during her reign).
The most interesting bit of information I've found in here is on wages. The musicians of the King's Musick were paid ridiculously high sums for their work. Disregarding the money they were paid per annum for livery and the lodgings they received, they were paid on average upwards of 40 pounds at the end of Elizabeth's reign. For context, the headmaster of royal Eaton college was paid 10 pounds per annum. That is not only a substantial difference; it's almost unbelievable.
I am coming from a time period when musicians are valued for their art, but not paid accordingly. The fact that these musicians were more than compensated for their work blows my mind, and I can't get enough of this book.
Walter Woodfill's book Musicians in English Society is fantastic and amazing, and I don't care that it's over 60 years old at this point. It is the most information I've been able to find in one place about music at court, so I love it.
The section I've concentrated on is about the Chapel Royal and the King's Musick, groups which regularly played at court. The Chapel Royal was the royal church choir, while the King's Musick was employed by the crown and had lodgings at court. The value placed on both groups is clear through Woodfill's text - boys were recruited for the Chapel Royal at a young age, but once they hit puberty and their voices changed, you'd expect them to be thrown back on the streets, right? Nope. The crown hooked them up with either a position in the clergy or at a royal school. The singers were truly valued; the same goes for the musicians of the King's Musick. These were musicians - everything from lute to trombone to viol - that belonged to the ruler. James and Charles had more than Elizabeth, but even Elizabeth had on average 30 musicians in the King's Musick (which, as far as I could tell in the book, doesn't change to Queen's Musick during her reign).
The most interesting bit of information I've found in here is on wages. The musicians of the King's Musick were paid ridiculously high sums for their work. Disregarding the money they were paid per annum for livery and the lodgings they received, they were paid on average upwards of 40 pounds at the end of Elizabeth's reign. For context, the headmaster of royal Eaton college was paid 10 pounds per annum. That is not only a substantial difference; it's almost unbelievable.
I am coming from a time period when musicians are valued for their art, but not paid accordingly. The fact that these musicians were more than compensated for their work blows my mind, and I can't get enough of this book.
Woodfill,
Walter L. Musicians in English Society
from Elizabeth to Charles I. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953. Print.
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