(For information regarding my Shakespeare Lectures: georgewalllectures@gmail.com)
Showing posts with label The Merchant of Venice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Merchant of Venice. Show all posts

Sunday, May 8, 2011

If you take a look at the sources that influenced Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus (his first tragedy as well as his first Roman play), Seneca's Thyestes and Ovid's story of Philomela from Metamorphoses, you'll see that the bloodiness of his play didn't come out of nowhere. Even by today's standards, these works are nasty. Not that Shakespeare didn't match them in this regard: he did. In fact, thanks to his unequaled verisimilitude, he surpassed them, and created a play that is harrowing to watch or read. But as I mentioned in my previous post, I think recent audiences and commentators are getting past this fact and seeing some of the many qualities that the play contains. I also mentioned in my last post that I think the writing of the play was crucial to Shakespeare, and that I would try to demonstrate some of the influence the play had on his later career. Here we go: 1. In the storyline itself, there are strong parallels with Coriolanus (particularly the story of Lucius joining forces with an opposing army to subdue Rome) and King Lear (not only are the opening scenes very similar in terms of stagecraft, but the subplots involving Edmund and Aaron are introduced and then integrated into the main plots in very similar ways). 2. The scenes set in the Andronici mausoleum can be seen as precursors to those in the Capulet tomb in Romeo and Juliet. 3. In terms of the story's arc, a very clear parallel can be drawn with Macbeth, as the two title characters go from being highly decorated and respected warriors to infamy in the eyes of their societies, from which point they discover their inner natures. 4. The theme of madness, real or assumed, as it pertains to Titus, of course brings Hamlet to mind. 5. Tamora's first speech in the play, in which she begs for her son's life by describing the importance of mercy, is clearly the seed that led to Portia's famous words in The Merchant of Venice. 6. The four other works set in Rome that he was to write later (in order of composition, The Rape of Lucrece, Julius Caesar, Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus), which treat in every case a major turning point in Roman history, can all be seen as an attempt to answer the central question posed by this play (and which may have influenced the title of one of the most famous works in the study of history, Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire): What happened?

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Another aspect of what Harold Bloom calls the "Shakespearean difference" is the refinement found in his figurative language. By refinement, I mean precision and uniqueness. Put plainly, his imagery is, in my opinion, the best to be found in literature. A couple of examples came to mind today: the first is from the "This royal throne of kings" speech, spoken by John of Gaunt in Richard II (2.1). It's more famous as a patriotic speech than for anything else (although its real subject is how recent financial mismanagement has led to national shame), but there is one phrase that I hadn't previously appreciated to its deserved level. It's the description of Jesus (and remember: this is a character speaking of his faith, not the author) as "the world's ransom".
The second is from The Merchant of Venice, the scene in which Bassanio is making his selection from among the three caskets (3.2), during which he comments on how people can be misled by appearances (or "ornament", as he calls it). The lines that I find particularly striking in this passage are the last four:

So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceived with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk...

Saturday, January 8, 2011

With the recent news that a publisher is coming out with a version of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that will be excised of racial slurs, once again people are turning to Shakespearean examples, especially The Merchant of Venice and Othello, for evidence in making their cases, whatever they may be. And so once again, I feel compelled to write the following: Shakespeare didn't say anything in his works; his characters did. Yes, things of a prejudiced nature are said in the plays, but to assume that a character is speaking for the author is a mistake of frightening magnitude. Gentle readers, please do me this favour: Inform as many people as you possibly can of the foolishness of this position. It's an error that has prevented many, many people from having the right perspective toward reading Shakespeare - and Twain as well, for that matter - and even worse, in some cases, from reading them at all.

Here are three quotes which may help in building your arguments:

"Tell all the truth, but tell it slant."
- Emily Dickinson

"That which can be made explicit to the idiot is not worth my care."
- William Blake

"Shakespeare was in one sense the least moral of all writers: for morality (commonly so called) is made up of antipathies; and his talent consisted in sympathy with human nature in all its shapes, degrees, depressions, and elevations."
- William Hazlitt