The Two Gentlemen of Verona

The Two Gentlemen of Verona is a comedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written in 1590 or
1591. It is considered by some to be Shakespeare's first play,
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and is often seen as his first tentative steps in layin"
o#t some of the themes and tropes with which he wo#ld later deal in more detail$ for e%ample, it is the first of his
plays in which a heroine dresses as a boy. &he play also deals with the themes of friendship and infidelity, the
conflict between friendship and love, and the foolish behavio#r of people in love. &he hi"hli"ht of the play is
considered by some to be 'a#nce, the clownish servant of (rote#s, and his do" )rab, to whom *the most scene+
stealin" non+speakin" role in the canon* has been attrib#ted.
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Two Gentlemen has the smallest cast of any play by Shakespeare and is commonly seen as one of his weakest
plays.
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Characters
Valentine . yo#n" man livin" in /erona
Proteus . his closest friend
Silvia . falls in love with /alentine in 0ilan
Julia . in love with (rote#s in /erona
Duke of Milan . Silvia's father
Lucetta . 1#lia's waitin" woman
Antonio . (rote#s' father
Thurio . foolish rival to /alentine for Silvia
Eglamour . s#itor of 1#lia$ later, a"ent for Silvia
in her escape
Speed . a clownish servant to /alentine
Launce
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. the like to (rote#s
Panthino . 3ntonio's servant
ost . of the inn where 1#lia lod"es in 0ilan
!utla"s
Cra# . 'a#nce's do"
Servants
Musicians
S$nopsis
3s the play be"ins, /alentine is preparin" to leave /erona for 0ilan so as to broaden his hori4ons. 5e be"s his
best friend, (rote#s, to come with him, b#t (rote#s is in love with 1#lia, and ref#ses to leave. 6isappointed,
/alentine bids (rote#s farewell and "oes on alone. 0eanwhile, 1#lia is disc#ssin" (rote#s with her maid, '#cetta,
who tells 1#lia that she thinks (rote#s is fond of her. 1#lia, however, acts coyly, embarrassed to admit that she likes
him. '#cetta then prod#ces a letter$ she will not say who "ave it to her, b#t teases 1#lia that it was /alentine's
servant, Speed, who bro#"ht it from (rote#s. 1#lia, still #nwillin" to reveal her love in front of '#cetta, an"rily
tears #p the letter. She sends '#cetta away, b#t then, realisin" her own rashness, she picks #p the fra"ments of
letter and kisses them, tryin" to piece them back to"ether.
0eanwhile, (rote#s' father has decided that (rote#s sho#ld travel to 0ilan and 7oin /alentine. 5e orders that
(rote#s m#st leave the ne%t day, promptin" a tearf#l farewell with 1#lia, to whom (rote#s swears eternal love. &he
two e%chan"e rin"s and vows and (rote#s promises to ret#rn as soon as he can.
In 0ilan, (rote#s finds /alentine in love with the 6#ke's da#"hter Silvia. 6espite 1#lia's love, (rote#s falls
instantly in love with Silvia and vows to win her. 8naware of (rote#s' feelin"s, /alentine tells him that the 6#ke
wants Silvia to marry the foppish b#t wealthy &h#rio, a"ainst her wishes. 9eca#se the 6#ke s#spects that his
da#"hter and /alentine are in love, he locks her ni"htly in a tower, to which he keeps the only key. 5owever,
/alentine tells (rote#s that he plans to free her by means of a corded ladder, and to"ether, they will elope. (rote#s
immediately informs the 6#ke, who s#bse:#ently capt#res and banishes /alentine. While wanderin" o#tside
0ilan, /alentine r#ns afo#l of a band of o#tlaws, who claim they are also e%iled "entlemen. /alentine lies, sayin"
he was banished for killin" a man in a fair fi"ht, and the o#tlaws elect him their leader.
0eanwhile, in /erona, 1#lia decides to 7oin her lover in 0ilan. She convinces '#cetta to dress her in boy's clothes
and help her fi% her hair so she will not be harmed on the 7o#rney. ;nce in 0ilan, 1#lia :#ickly discovers (rote#s'
love for Silvia, watchin" him attempt to serenade her. She contrives to become his pa"e . a yo#th named
Sebastian . #ntil she can decide #pon a co#rse of action. (rote#s sends Sebastian to Silvia with a "ift of the same
rin" that 1#lia "ave to him before he left /erona, b#t 1#lia discovers that Silvia scorns (rote#s' affections and is
dis"#sted that he wo#ld for"et abo#t his love back home, i.e. 1#lia herself. Silvia deeply mo#rns the loss of
/alentine, whom (rote#s has told her is r#mo#red dead.
<ot pers#aded of /alentine's death, Silvia determines to flee the city with the help of ="lamo#r, a former s#itor to
1#lia. &hey escape into the forest b#t when they are confronted by the o#tlaws, ="lamo#r flees and Silvia is taken
captive. &he o#tlaws head to their leader >/alentine?, b#t on the way, they enco#nter (rote#s and 1#lia >still
dis"#ised as Sebastian?. (rote#s resc#es Silvia, and then p#rs#es her deeper into the forest. Secretly observed by
/alentine, (rote#s attempts to pers#ade Silvia that he loves her, b#t she re7ects his advances. @#rio#s and mad with
desire, (rote#s insin#ates that he will rape her >*I'll force thee yield to my desire*?.
3t this point, /alentine intervenes and deno#nces (rote#s. 5orrified at what has happened, (rote#s vows that the
hate /alentine feels for him is nothin" compared to the hate he feels for himself. )onvinced that (rote#s'
repentance is "en#ine, /alentine for"ives him and seems to offer Silvia to him. 3t this point, overwhelmed, 1#lia
faints, revealin" her tr#e identity. 8pon seein" her, (rote#s s#ddenly remembers his love for her and vows fidelity
to her once a"ain. &he 6#ke and &h#rio arrive, and &h#rio reminds /alentine that Silvia is his. /alentine warns
&h#rio that if he makes one move toward her, he will kill him. &errified, &h#rio deno#nces Silvia. &he 6#ke,
impressed by /alentine's actions, approves his and Silvia's love, and consents to their marria"e. &he two co#ples
are happily #nited, and the 6#ke pardons the o#tlaws, tellin" them they may ret#rn to 0ilan.
Criticism and anal$sis
%edit& Language
'an"#a"e is of primary importance in the play insofar as /alentine and (rote#s speak in blank verse, b#t 'a#nce
and Speed speak >for the most part? in prose. 0ore specifically, the act#al content of many of the speeches serve to
ill#strate the pompo#sness of /alentine and (rote#s' e%alted o#tlook, and the more realistic and practical o#tlook
of the servants. &his is most apparent in 3ct -, Scene 1. /alentine has 7#st "iven a len"thy speech lamentin" his
banishment and m#sin" on how he cannot possibly s#rvive witho#t Silvia$ *=%cept I be by Silvia in the
ni"htA&here is no m#sic in the ni"htin"ale.A8nless I look on Silvia in the dayA&here is no day for me to look #pon*
>ll.1BC.1C1?. 5owever, when 'a#nce enters only a few lines later, he anno#nces that he too is in love, and
proceeds to o#tline, alon" with Speed, all of his betrothed's positives$ *She brews "ood ale*$ *She can knit*$ *She
can wash and sco#r*, and ne"atives$ *She hath a sweet mo#th*$ *She doth talk in her sleep*$ *She is slow in
words.* 3fter wei"hin" his options, 'a#nce decides that the woman's most important :#ality is that *she hath more
hair than wit, and more fa#lts than hairs, and more wealth than fa#lts* >ll.-2-.-22?. 5e anno#nces that her wealth
*makes the fa#lts "racio#s* >l.-5D?, and chooses for that reason to wed her. &his p#rely materialistic reasonin", as
revealed in the form of lan"#a"e, is in stark contrast to the more spirit#al and idealised love espo#sed by /alentine
earlier in the scene.
%edit& Themes
;ne of the dominant theories as re"ards the val#e or importance of Two Gentlemen is that thematically, it
represents a 'trial r#n' of sorts, in which Shakespeare deals briefly with themes which he wo#ld e%amine in more
detail in later works. =.E. )hambers, for e%ample, ar"#ed that the play represents somethin" of a "estation of
Shakespeare's "reat thematic concerns. In 1905, he wrote that Two Gentlemen *was Shakespeare's first essay at
ori"inality, at fashionin" for himself the o#tlines of that romantic or tra"icomic form#la in which so many of his
most characteristic dramas were afterwards to be cast. Somethin" which is neither :#ite tra"edy nor :#ite comedy,
somethin" which to#ches the hei"hts and depths of sentiment and reveals the dark places of the h#man heart
witho#t lin"erin" lon" eno#"h there to crystallise the painf#l impression, a love story broken for a moment into
passionate chords by absence and inconstancy and intri"#e, and then re#nited to the m#sic of weddin" bells.*
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3s
s#ch, the play's primary interest for critics has tended to lie in relation to what it reveals abo#t Shakespeare's
conception of certain themes before he became an accomplished playwri"ht. 3.). Swinb#rne, for e%ample, wrote
*here is the first dawn of that hi"her and more tender h#mo#r that was never "iven in s#ch perfection to any man
as #ltimately to Shakespeare.*
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Similarly, Warwick F. 9ond writes *Shakespeare first opens the vein he worked
so richly afterwards . the vein of crossed love, of fli"ht and e%ile #nder the escort of the "enero#s sentiments$ of
dis"#ised heroines, and s#fferin"s end#red and virt#es e%hibited #nder their dis"#ise$ and of the (rovidence,
kinder than life, that ann#ls the errors and for"ives the sin.*
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;ther critics have been less kind however, ar"#in" that if the later plays show a skilled and confident writer
e%plorin" iss#es of the h#man heart, Two Gentlemen represents the initial, primarily #ns#ccessf#l attempt to do
likewise. 5.9. )harlton, for e%ample, writin" in 19-C, ar"#es that *clearly, Shakespeare's first attempt to make
romantic comedy had only s#cceeded so far as it had #ne%pectedly and inadvertenly made romance comic.*
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3nother s#ch ar"#ment is provided by <orman Sanders$ *beca#se the play reveals a relatively #ns#re dramatist
and many effects mana"ed with a tiro's lack of e%pertise, it offers #s an opport#nity to see more clearly than
anywhere else in the canon what were to become characteristic techni:#es. It stands as an 'anatomie' or show+
thro#"h version, as it were, of Shakespeare's comic art.*
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%edit& Love and friendship
<orman Sanders calls the play *almost a complete antholo"y of the practices of the doctrine of romantic love
which inspired the poetic and prose Fomances of the period.*
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3t the very centre of this is the contest between
love and friendship$ *an essential part of the comicality of The Two Gentlemen of Verona is created by the
necessary conflict between hi"hly stylised concepts of love and friendship*
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&his is manifested in the :#estion of
whether the relationship between two male friends is more important than that between lovers, encaps#lated by
(rote#s' rhetorical :#estion at 5.2.52$ *In loveAWho respects friendG* &his :#estion *e%poses the raw nerve at the
heart of the central relationships, the dark reality l#rkin" beneath the wit and lyricism with which the play has in
"eneral presented lovers' behavio#r.*
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In the pro"ram notes for 1ohn 9arton's 19C1 FS) prod#ction at the Foyal
Shakespeare &heatre, 3nne 9arton, his wife, wrote that the central theme of the play was *how to brin" love and
friendship into a constr#ctive and m#t#ally enhancin" relationship.* &his is a common theme in Fenaissance
literat#re, since some aspects of the c#lt#re of the time celebrated friendship as the more important relationship
>beca#se it is p#re and #nconcerned with se%#al attraction?, and contended that they co#ld not co+e%ist. 3s actor
3le% 3very ar"#es, *&he love between two men is a "reater love for some reason. &here seems to be a sense that
the f#nction of a maleAfemale relationship is p#rely for the family and to procreate, to have a family. 9#t a love
between two men is somethin" that yo# choose. Ho# have arran"ed marria"es, b#t! a friendship between two men
is created by the desires and wills of those two men, whereas a relationship between a man and a "irl is act#ally
constr#cted completely peripheral to whatever the feelin"s of the said boy and "irl are.*
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William ). )arroll sees this societal belief as vital in interpretin" the final scene of the play, ar"#in" that /alentine
does "ive Silvia to (rote#s, and in so doin", he is merely actin" in accordance with the practices of the day.
5owever, if one accepts that /alentine does not "ive Silvia to (rote#s, as critics s#ch as Fo"er Warren ar"#e, b#t
instead offers to love (rote#s as m#ch as he loves Silvia, then the concl#sion of the play can be read as a final
tri#mphant reconciliation between friendship and love$ /alentine intends to love his friend as m#ch as he does his
betrothed. 'ove and friendship are shown to be co+e%istent, not e%cl#sive.
%edit& 'oolishness of lovers
3nother ma7or theme is the foolishness of lovers, what Fo"er Warren refers to as *mockery of the abs#rdity of
conventional lovers' behavio#r.*
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/alentine for e%ample, is introd#ced into the play mockin" the e%cesses of
love$ *&o be in love, where scorn is bo#"ht with "roansA)oy looks with heart+sore si"hs, one fadin" moment's
mirthAWith twenty watchf#l, weary, tedio#s ni"hts* >1.1.,9.-1?. 'ater, however, he becomes as m#ch a prisoner of
love as (rote#s, e%claimin", *@or in reven"e of my contempt for loveA'ove hath chased sleep from my enthrall'd
eyesA3nd made them watchers of my own heart's sorrow* >,.2.1-1.1--?.
&he ma7ority of the cynicism as re"ards conventional lovers however comes from 'a#nce and Speed, who serve as
foils for (rote#s and /alentine and *s#pply a m#ndane view of the idealistic fli"hts of fancy ind#l"ed in by
(rote#s and /alentine.*
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Several times in the play, after either /alentine or (rote#s has made a "randiose speech
abo#t love, Shakespeare introd#ces either 'a#nce or Speed >or sometimes both?, whose speeches #nderc#t what
has 7#st been heard, e%posin" (rote#s and /alentine to mockery. 3 "ood e%ample is fo#nd in 3ct ,, Scene 1. 3s
/alentine and Silvia en"a"e in a "ame of flirtation, hintin" at their love for one another, Speed provides constant
asides which serve to directly mock the co#ple. @or e%ample,
VALENTINE
(eace, here she comes.
Enter Silvia
SPEED >aside?
; e%cellent motionI ; e%ceedin" p#ppetI <ow he will interpret her.
VALENTINE
0adame and mistress, a tho#sand "ood+morrows.
SPEED >aside?
;, "ive ye "ood e'en. 5ere's a million of manners.
SILVIA
Sir /alentine and servant, to yo# two tho#sand.
SPEED >aside?
5e sho#ld "ive her interest, and she "ives it him
>,.1.C5+92?
%edit& (nconstanc$
3 third ma7or theme is inconstancy, partic#larly as manifested in (rote#s, whose very name hints at his chan"eable
mind >in ;vid's Metamorphoses, (rote#s is a sea+"od forever chan"in" its shape?. 3t the start of the play, (rote#s
has only eyes for 1#lia. 5owever #pon meetin" Silvia, he immediately falls in love with her >altho#"h he has no
idea why?. 5e then finds himself drawn to the pa"e Sebastian >1#lia in dis"#ise? whilst still tryin" to woo Silvia,
and at the end of the play, he anno#nces that Silvia is no better than 1#lia and vows he now loves 1#lia a"ain.
Indeed, (rote#s himself seems to be aware of this m#tability, pointin" o#t towards the end of the play$ *; heaven,
were manA9#t constant, he were perfect. &hat one errorA@ills him with fa#lts, makes him r#n thro#"h all
th'sins$AInconstancy falls off ere it be"ins* >5.2.109.11,?.
)eferences
%edit& *otes
3ll references to The Two Gentlemen of Verona, #nless otherwise specified, are taken from the ;%ford
Shakespeare >Warren?, based on the @irst @olio te%t of 1D,-. 8nder its referencin" system, ,.-.12 means act ,,
scene -, line 12.
1. + It is placed first in both The Oxford Shaespeare! The "omplete #ors >19CD and ,005? and The
Norton Shaespeare! $ased on the Oxford Shaespeare >199B and ,00C?$ see also 'eech >19D9J %%%?,
Wells et al% >19CBJ -?, )arroll >,002J 1-0? and Warren >,00CJ ,D.,B?
,. + Wells et al% >19CDJ 2?
-. + )arroll >,002J 110?
2. + 0ost modern editors of the play tend to rename this character ''ance', on the basis that ''ance'
represents a modernisation of ''a#nce'. See, for e%ample, E#rt Schl#eter >"am&rid'e Shaespeare . 1990?,
William ). )arroll >Arden Shaespeare . ,002? and Fo"er Warren >Oxford Shaespeare . ,00C?
Editions of The Two Gentlemen of Verona
9ate, 1onathan and Fasm#ssen, =ric >eds.? The Two Gentlemen of Verona >&he FS) Shakespeare$ 'ondonJ
0acmillan, ,011?
9ond, F. Warwick >ed.? The Two Gentlemen of Verona >&he 3rden Shakespeare, 1st Series$ 'ondonJ
3rden, 190D?
)arroll, William ). >ed.? The Two Gentlemen of Verona >&he 3rden Shakespeare, -rd Series$ 'ondonJ
3rden, ,002?
The Taming of the Shre"
The Taming of the Shrew is a comedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written between 1590 and
1591.
&he play be"ins with a framin" device, often referred to as the Ind#ction,
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in which a mischievo#s nobleman
tricks a dr#nken tinker named Sly into believin" he is act#ally a nobleman himself. &he nobleman then has the
play performed for Sly's diversion.
&he main plot depicts the co#rtship of (etr#chio, a "entleman of /erona, and Eatherina, the headstron", obd#rate
shrew. Initially, Eatherina is an #nwillin" participant in the relationship, b#t (etr#chio tempers her with vario#s
psycholo"ical tormentsKthe *tamin"*K#ntil she becomes a compliant and obedient bride. &he s#bplot feat#res a
competition between the s#itors of Eatherina's more desirable sister, 9ianca.
&he play's apparent miso"ynistic elements have become the s#b7ect of considerable controversy, partic#larly
amon" modern a#diences and readers. It has nevertheless been adapted n#mero#s times for sta"e, screen, opera,
and m#sical theatre$ perhaps the most famo#s adaptations bein" )ole (orter's m#sical (iss Me) (ate and the film
*+ Thin's I ,ate A&o-t .o-.
Characters
,atherina -,ate. Minola . the *shrew* of the
title
/ianca . sister of Eatherina$ the in"Ln#e
/aptista Minola . father of Eatherina and
9ianca
Petruchio . s#itor of Eatherina
0remio . elderly s#itor of 9ianca
Lucentio . s#itor of 9ianca >spends some of play
dis"#ised as )ambio, a 'atin t#tor?
ortensio . s#itor of 9ianca and friend to
(etr#chio >spends some of the play dis"#ised as
'itio, a m#sic t#tor?
0rumio . servant of (etr#chio
Tranio . servant of '#centio >spends some of the
play dis"#ised as '#centio?
/iondello . servant of '#centio
Vincentio . father of '#centio
A 1ido" . wooed by 5ortensio
A Pedant . pretends to be /incentio
3 5aberdasher
3 &ailor
Curtis . servant of (etr#chio
*athaniel . servant of (etr#chio
Joseph . servant of (etr#chio
Peter . servant of (etr#chio
*icholas . servant of (etr#chio
Philip . servant of (etr#chio
An !fficer
Servants
Characters appearing in the Induction:
Christopher Sl$ . a dr#nken tinker
A Lord . plays a prank on Sly
/artholome" . a pa"e
ostess of an alehouse
untsman of the Lord
Pla$ers
Servingmen
Messenger
S$nopsis
(rior to the first act, an ind#ction frames the play as a *kind of history* played in front of a bef#ddled dr#nkard
named )hristopher Sly who is tricked into believin" that he is a lord.
In the play performed for Sly, the *Shrew* is Eatherina 0inola, the eldest da#"hter of 9aptista 0inola, a 'ord in
(ad#a. Eatherina's temper is notorio#s and it is tho#"ht no man wo#ld ever wish to marry her. ;n the other hand,
two men . 5ortensio and Mremio . are ea"er to marry her yo#n"er sister 9ianca. 5owever, 9aptista has sworn not
to allow his yo#n"er da#"hter to marry before Eatherina is wed, m#ch to the despair of her s#itors, who a"ree that
they will work to"ether to marry off Eatherina so that they will be free to compete for 9ianca.
&he plot becomes more comple% when '#centio, who has recently come to (ad#a to attend #niversity, sees 9ianca
and instantly falls in love with her. '#centio overhears 9aptista anno#nce that he is on the looko#t for t#tors for
his da#"hters, so he has his servant &ranio pretend to be him while he dis"#ises himself as a 'atin t#tor named
)ambio, so that he can woo 9ianca behind 9aptista's back.
In the meantime, (etr#chio arrives in (ad#a, accompanied by his witty servant, Mr#mio. (etr#chio tells his old
friend 5ortensio that he has set o#t to seek his fort#ne *farther than at homeAWhere small e%perience "rows*
>1.,.50.51? and that his main b#siness *happily to wive and thrive as best I may*>1.,.55?. 5earin" this, 5ortensio
sei4es the opport#nity to recr#it (etr#chio as a s#itor for Eatherina. 5e also has (etr#chio present to 9aptista a
m#sic t#tor named 'itio >5ortensio himself in dis"#ise?. &h#s, '#centio and 5ortensio, pretendin" to be the
teachers )ambio and 'itio, attempt to woo 9ianca #nbeknownst to her father, and to one another.
(etr#chio, to co#nter Eatherina's shrewish nat#re, woos her with reverse psycholo"y, pretendin" that every harsh
thin" she says or does is kind and "entle. Eatherina allows herself to become en"a"ed to (etr#chio, and they are
married in a farcical ceremony d#rin" which >amon"st other thin"s? he strikes the priest and drinks the
comm#nion wine, and then takes her home a"ainst her will. ;nce they are "one, Mremio and &ranio >dis"#ised as
'#centio? formally bid for 9ianca, with &ranio easily promisin" 9aptista that he can make 9ianca richer.
5owever, in his 4eal to win, he promises m#ch more than the real '#centio act#ally possesses, and 9aptista
determines that once '#centio's father confirms the dowry 9ianca is his. &ranio th#s decides that they will need
someone to pretend to be /incentio, '#centio's father, at some point in the near f#t#re. =lsewhere, as part of their
scheme, &ranio pers#ades 5ortensio that 9ianca is not worthy of his attentions, th#s removin" any problems he
may ca#se.
0eanwhile, in (etr#chio's ho#se, he be"ins the *tamin"* of his new wife, #sin" more reverse psycholo"y. She is
ref#sed food and clothin" beca#se nothin" . accordin" to (etr#chio . is "ood eno#"h for her$ he claims perfectly
cooked meat is overcooked, a bea#tif#l dress doesn't fit ri"ht, and a stylish hat is not fashionable. @inally,
Eatherina comes to #nderstand (etr#chio's methods of tamin", and when they are on the way back to (ad#a to
attend 9ianca's weddin", she willin"ly a"rees with (etr#chio that the s#n is the moon, and proclaims that *if yo#
please to call it a r#sh+candle,A5enceforth I vow it shall be so for me* >2.5.12.15?. &hey also meet /incentio who
is also on his way to (ad#a, and Eatherina ea"erly a"rees with (etr#chio when he declares that /incentio is a
woman.
0eanwhile, back in (ad#a, '#centio and &ranio convince a passin" pedant to pretend to be /incentio and confirm
the dowry for 9ianca. &he man does so, and 9aptista is happy for 9ianca to wed '#centio >act#ally &ranio in
dis"#ise?. 9ianca then secretly elopes with the real '#centio. 5owever, /incentio then arrives in (ad#a, and
enco#nters the (edant, who claims to be '#centio's father. &ranio >dis"#ised as '#centio? appears, and the (edant
acknowled"es him to be his son '#centio. &here is m#ch conf#sion abo#t identities, and the real /incentio is abo#t
to be arrested when the real '#centio appears with his newly betrothed 9ianca, and reveals all to a bewildered
9aptista and /incentio. '#centio e%plains everythin" that has happened and all is for"iven by the two fathers.
0eanwhile, 5ortensio has married a rich widow, and so in the final scene of the play there are three newly married
co#ples at 9aptista's ban:#et$ 9ianca and '#centio, the widow and 5ortensio, and Eatherina and (etr#chio.
9eca#se of the "eneral opinion that (etr#chio is married to a shrew, a :#arrel breaks o#t abo#t whose wife is the
most obedient. (etr#chio proposes a wa"er whereby each will send a servant to call for their wives, and whichever
comes most obediently will have won the wa"er for her h#sband. Eatherina is the only one of the three who
comes, winnin" the wa"er for (etr#chio. 3t the end of the play, after the other two wives have been ha#led into the
room by Eatherina, she "ives a speech on the s#b7ect of why wives sho#ld always obey their h#sbands, and tells
them that their h#sbands ask only *love, fair looks and tr#e obedience* >5.,.15-?. &he play ends with 9aptista,
5ortensio and '#centio marvellin" at (etr#chio's tamin" of the shrew.
Anal$sis and criticism
Critical histor$
The Tamin' of the Shrew has been the s#b7ect of m#ch analytical and critical controversy, often relatin" to a
feminist readin" of the play in "eneral, and Eatherina's final speech in partic#lar, as offensively miso"ynistic and
patriarchal. ;thers have defended the play by hi"hli"htin" the >fre:#ently #nsta"ed? Ind#ction as evidence that the
play's sentiments are not meant to be taken at face val#e, that the entire play is, in fact, a farce. &his iss#e however,
represents only one of the many critical disa"reements bro#"ht #p by the play.
%edit& Authorship and The Taming of a Shrew
&itle pa"e of the second edition of A Shrew, which was iss#ed in three editions >1592, 159D, and 1D0B? before the
p#blication of The Shrew in the @irst @olio.
;ne of the most f#ndamental debates is the iss#e of a#thorship. &he e%istence of A Shrew, which appeared in
1592, has led to an e%amination of a#thenticity re"ardin" The Shrew. 3s Earl (. Wentersdorf points o#t, A Shrew
and The Shrew have *similar plot lines and parallel tho#"h differently named characters.*
19!
3s s#ch, there are five
main theories as to the relationship between The Shrew and A ShrewJ
1. &he two plays are #nrelated other than the fact that they are both based on another play which is now lost.
&his is the so+called /r0Shrew theory >in reference to /r0,amlet?.
,0!
,. A Shrew is a reconstr#cted version of The Shrew$ i.e. a bad :#arto of The Shrew, an attempt by actors to
reconstr#ct the ori"inal play from memory and sell it.
,1!
-. Shakespeare #sed the previo#sly+e%istin" A Shrew, which he did not write, as a so#rce for The Shrew.
,,!
2. 9oth versions were le"itimately written by Shakespeare himself$ i.e. A Shrew is an earlier draft of The
Shrew.
,-!
5. A Shrew is an adaptation of The Shrew by someone other than Shakespeare.
,2!
3ltho#"h the e%act relationship between The Shrew and A Shrew remains #ncertain, and witho#t complete critical
consens#s, there is a tentative a"reement amon"st many critics that The Shrew is the ori"inal, and A Shrew is
derived from it in some way. &he main reason for ass#min" The Shrew came first is *those passa"es in A Shrew
...! that make sense only if one knows the The Shrew version from which they m#st have been derived$*
,5!
i.e.
parts of A Shrew simply don't make sense witho#t reco#rse to The Shrew.
&he debate re"ardin" the relationship between the two plays be"an in 1B,5, when 3le%ander (ope incorporated
e%tracts from A Shrew into The Shrew in his edition of Shakespeare's works. (ope added the Sly framework to The
Shrew, and this practice remained the norm amon"st editors #ntil =dmond 0alone removed all e%tracts from A
Shrew and ret#rned to the strict 1D,- te%t in his edition of the plays in 1B9,. 3t this time, it was primarily felt that
A Shrew was a non+Shakespearean so#rce play for The Shrew, and hence to incl#de e%tracts from A Shrew in the
body of The Shrew was to "raft e%traneo#s material onto the play which the playwri"ht did not write.
&his theory prevailed #ntil 1C50, when, in a series of articles for the ma"a4ine Notes and 1-eries, Sam#el
5ickson compared the te%ts of The Shrew and A Shrew, concl#din" that The Shrew was the ori"inal, and A Shrew
was derived from it, not the other way aro#nd. 5ickson chose seven passa"es that are similar in both plays and
analysed them to concl#de that A Shrew was dependent on The Shrew, altho#"h he was #ns#re e%actly how The
Shrew "ave rise to A Shrew.
,D!
In 19,D, b#ildin" on 5ickson's research, (eter 3le%ander s#""ested the bad :#arto
theory. 5e based his ar"#ment on three main pieces of evidenceJ
1. &here is clear evidence that A Shrew was dependent for meanin" #pon The Shrew.
,. &he s#bplot in The Shrew is closer to the so#rce I S-ppositi than in A Shrew.
-. <ew material in the s#bplot not fo#nd in I S-ppositi is incoherent in A Shrew b#t coherent in The Shrew.
3le%ander ar"#ed this evidence s#""ested that the direction of chan"e was from The Shrew to A Shrew, i.e. A
Shrew was derived from The Shrew and hence m#st be a bad :#arto.
,B!
In their 19,C edition of the play for the
New Shaespeare, 3rth#r N#iller+)o#ch and 1ohn 6over Wilson wholeheartedly s#pported 3le%ander's theory,
which has remained pop#lar ever since.
5owever, not everyone a"reed with 3le%ander. @or e%ample, in 19-0, =.E. )hambers re7ected 3le%ander's theory
and reasserted the so#rce theory.
,C!
Similarly, in 19-C, 'eo Eirschba#m also re7ected 3le%ander's claim. 3ltho#"h
Eirschba#m a"reed with the bad :#arto theory in "eneral, he didn't believe A Shrew :#alified as a bad :#arto. 5e
ar"#ed that A Shrew was simply too different from The Shrew to come #nder the bad :#arto banner, #nlike
3le%ander's other e%amples of bad :#artos The 2irst part of the "ontention &etwixt the two famo-s ,o-ses of
.ore and Lan3aster and The Tr-e Tra'ed4 of 5i3hard D-e of .ore.
,9!
Stephen Foy 0iller s#pports
Eirschba#m's opinion, pointin" o#t that *the relation of the early :#arto to the @olio te%t is #nlike other early
:#artos beca#se the te%ts vary m#ch more in plottin" and dialo"#e.*
-0!
)haracter names are chan"ed, plot points
are altered >Eate has two sisters for e%ample, not one?, the play is set in 3thens instead of (ad#a, Sly contin#es to
comment on events thro#"ho#t the play, and entire speeches are completely different >lines from other plays are
also fo#nd in A Shrew, especially from 0arlowe's Tam&-rlaine?, all of which s#""ests that the a#thorAreporter of A
Shrew tho#"ht he >or she? was workin" on somethin" different to Shakespeare's play, not simply transcribin" it. 3s
0iller points o#t, *#nderpinnin" the notion of a 'Shakespearean bad :#arto' is the ass#mption that the motive of
whoever compiled that te%t was to prod#ce, differentially, a verbal replica of what appeared on sta"e,*
-1!
and both
Eirschba#m and 0iller ar"#e that A Shrew does not f#lfil this r#bric.
3le%ander's theory contin#ed to be challen"ed as the years went on. In 192,, b#ildin" on the work of )harles
Eni"ht, F.3. 5o#k developed what came to be d#bbed the /r0Shrew theory. In 192-, in a controversial ar"#ment,
M.I. 6#thie combined 3le%ander's bad :#arto theory with 5o#k's /r0Shrew theory. 6#thie ar"#ed that A Shrew
was a memorial reconstr#ction of /r0Shrew, a now lost play #pon which Shakespeare's The Shrew was based$ *A
Shrew is s#bstantially a memorially constr#cted te%t and is dependent #pon an early Shrew play, now lost. The
Shrew is a reworkin" of this lost play.*
-,!
6#thie ar"#ed that the time+scheme of A Shrew shows that it was a
"arbled version of somethin" which probably made more sense in an ori"inal form, and that Shakespeare
reor"anised the plot when composin" The Shrew so as to make more chronolo"ical sense. 3ltho#"h 6#thie's
ar"#ment wasn't f#lly accepted at the time, it has been "ainin" increased s#pport in the late twentieth cent#ry.
In the li"ht of 6#thie's theory, in 195C, 1.W. Shroeder attempted to revive the so#rce theory by disprovin" both
5ickson and 3le%ander's bad :#arto theory and 5o#k and 6#thie's /r0Shrew theory. Shroeder's ar"#ment >which
rests on the hypothesis that The Shrew was not written #ntil at least 159B? was based on an analysis of parallel
passa"es >some of which had been #sed by 5ickson to ar"#e the bad :#arto theory? and chronolo"ical problems
within both plays to show that there was no need for an /r0Shrew theory or a bad :#arto theory, when a so#rce
theory co#ld address all the problems raised by comparin" the two plays.
--!
Shroeder's ar"#ment, however, was
never f#lly accepted.
S#bse:#ently, in 19D2, Fichard 5osley, in his edition of the play for the Peli3an Shaespeare challen"ed the
theories of 5ickson, 3le%ander, 5o#k, 6#thie and Shroeder, and s#""ested an early draft theory. 5osley's
ar"#ment was based on the relative comple%ity of A Shrew when compared to contemporaneo#s plays. If A Shrew
was not an early draft >i.e. not by Shakespeare?, we wo#ld have *to ass#me aro#nd 159- the e%istence of a
dramatist other than Shakespeare who was capable of devisin" a three+part str#ct#re more impressive than the
str#ct#re of any e%tant play by 'yly, (eele, Mreene, 0arlowe, or Eyd.*
-2!
In this sense, Shakespeare m#st have
written A Shrew, and as it is decidedly inferior to The Shrew, it follows that it is an early draft of the later play.
3le%ander himself ret#rned to the debate in 19D9, once a"ain re+presentin" his bad :#arto theory in li"ht of the
many ob7ections raised in the precedin" forty years. In partic#lar, 3le%ander concentrated on the vario#s
complications and inconsistencies in the s#bplot of A Shrew, which had been #sed by 5o#k and 6#thie as
evidence for an /r0Shrew, to ar"#e that the reporter of A Shrew attempted to recreate the comple% s#bplot from
The Shrew b#t "ot m#ddled and imported ideas and lines for other plays, especially 0arlow. @or m#ch of the
remainder of the twentieth cent#ry, 3le%ander's views remained predominant.
-5!
3fter little f#rther disc#ssion of the iss#e in the 19B0s, the 19C0s saw the p#blication of three scholarly editions of
The Shrew, all of which re+addressed the :#estion in li"ht of the by now "eneral acceptance of 3le%ander's theory$
9rian 0orris' 19C1 edition for the Arden Shaespeare, 5.1. ;liver's 19C, edition for the Oxford Shaespeare and
3nn &hompson's 19C2 edition for the New "am&rid'e Shaespeare. 0orris s#mmarised the iss#e at that time by
pointin" o#t, *8nless new, e%ternal evidence comes to li"ht, the relationship between The Shrew and A Shrew can
never be decided beyond a peradvent#re. It will always be a balance of probabilities, shiftin" as new ar"#ments
and opinions are added to the scales. <evertheless, in the present cent#ry, the movement has #n:#estionably been
towards an acceptance of the 9ad N#arto theory, and this can now be accepted as at least the c#rrent orthodo%y.*
-D!
&hompson wholeheartedly s#pported the bad :#arto theory, b#t both 0orris and ;liver were less s#re, ar"#in"
instead for a combination of the bad :#arto theory and the early draft theory.
;ther critics have also spoken on this iss#e. )hampionin" the bad :#arto theory, 3nn 9arton says, A Shrew is
*now "enerally believed to be either a pirated and inacc#rate version of Shakespeare's comedy or else a *bad
:#arto* of a different play, now lost, which also served Shakespeare as a so#rce.*
11!
'eah S. 0arc#s, whilst
disc#ssin" the prevailin" bad :#arto theory, s#""ests that A Shrew is not a transcription of a performance of The
Shrew, b#t is in fact an earlier version of The Shrew$ that is to say, Shakespeare himself a#thored both works.
5owever, she notes that many critics have re7ected the idea of A Shrew bein" a work of Shakespeare's, s#bscribin"
instead to the bad :#arto theory. She states that the reason for this, apart from the many differences in the te%t, and
some e%tremely sloppy writin" in A Shrew, is *beca#se it identifies the actin" company with an a#dience of
lowlifes like Sly.*
-B!
0arc#s writes that this is seen by editors as o#t of character for Shakespeare and is therefore
an indication that he did not write A Shrew. Wentersdorf also disc#sses the idea that Shakespeare penned both
plays, and that A Shrew may have been either an early version of The Shrew written before it, or an abrid"ed
version written after it. 9oth theories wo#ld e%plain the differences between the two versions. Wentersdorf admits,
tho#"h, that his theory is based primarily on spec#lation, and there is no real way of knowin" for certain why Sly
disappeared from The Shrew.
-C!
;thers, s#ch as 0ikhail 0. 0oro4ov, have maintained that Shakespeare may not
have been entirely ori"inal in his writin" of the play >whether The Shrew or A Shrew?, s#""estin" that the ideas
fo#nd in the story were those of another a#thor.
-9!
Eenneth 0#ir, for his part, believes that Shakespeare had a
laisse60faire attit#de to borrowin" content from other a#thors in "eneral, and he cites The Shrew as an instance of
this.
20!
;ne of the most e%tensive e%aminations of the :#estion came in 199C in Stephen Foy 0iller's edition of A Shrew
for the "am&rid'e Shaespeare. 0iller ar"#es that A Shrew is indeed derived from The Shrew, b#t it is neither a
bad :#arto nor an early draft. Instead, it is an adaptation by someone other than Shakespeare. 0iller ar"#es that
3le%ander's s#""estion in 19D9 that the reporter became conf#sed, and introd#ced elements from other plays is
#nlikely, and instead s#""ests an adapter at work >whom he refers to as the 'compiler'?, writin" in the romantic
comedy tradition$ *the most economic e%planation of indebtedness is that whoever compiled A Shrew borrowed
the lines from Shakespeare's The Shrew, or a version of it, and adapted them.*
21!
(art of 0iller's evidence relates
to Mremio, who has no co#nterpart in A Shrew. In The Shrew, after the weddin", Mremio e%presses do#bts as to
whether or not (etr#chio will be able to tame Eatherina. In A Shrew, these lines are e%tended and split between
(olidor and (hylema. 3s Mremio does have a co#nterpart in I S-ppositi, 0iller concl#des that *to ar"#e the
priority of A Shrew in this case wo#ld mean ar"#in" that Shakespeare took the ne"ative hints from the speeches of
(olidor and (hylema and "ave them to a character he res#rrected from S-pposes. &his is a less economical
ar"#ment than to s#""est that the compiler of A Shrew, dismissin" Mremio, simply shared his do#bts amon" the
characters available.*
2,!
0iller ar"#es that there is even evidence in the play of what the compiler felt he was
doin", workin" within a specific literary tradition$ *as with his partial chan"e of character names, the compiler
seems to wish to prod#ce dialo"#e m#ch like his models, b#t not the same. @or him, adaptation incl#des e%act
:#otation, imitation and incorporation of his own additions. &his seems to define his personal style, and his aim
seems to be to prod#ce his own version, pres#mably intended that it sho#ld be t#ned more towards the pop#lar era
than The Shrew.*
2-!
3s had 3le%ander, 5o#k, 6#thie and Shroeder, 0iller ar"#es that the s#bplot in A Shrew and The Shrew holds the
key to the debate, as it is here where the two plays differ most. 0iller points o#t that the s#bplot in The Shrew is
based on *the classical style of 'atin comedy with an intricate plot involvin" deception, often kept in motion by a
comic servant.* &he s#bplot in A Shrew however, which feat#res an e%tra sister and addresses the iss#e of
marryin" above and below one's class, *has many elements more associated with the romantic style of comedy
pop#lar in 'ondon in the 1590s.*
22!
0iller cites plays s#ch as Fobert Mreene's 2riar $a3on and 2riar $-n'a4 and
2air Em as evidence of the pop#larity of s#ch plays. 5e points to the fact that in The Shrew, there is only eleven
lines of romance between &ranio and 9ianca, b#t in A Shrew, there is an entire scene between Eate's two sisters
and their lovers. &his, he ar"#es, is evidence of an adaptation rather than a fa#lty report$
while it is diffic#lt to know the motivation of the adapter, we can reckon that from his point of view an early
sta"in" of The Shrew mi"ht have revealed an overly wro#"ht play from a writer tryin" to establish himself b#t
challen"in" too far the c#rrent ideas of pop#lar comedy. The Shrew is lon" and complicated. It has three plots, the
s#bplots bein" in the swift 'atin or Italianate style with several dis"#ises. Its lan"#a"e is at first st#ffed with
diffic#lt Italian :#otations, b#t its dialo"#e m#st often so#nd plain when compared to 0arlow's th#nder or
Mreene's romance, the mo#th+fillin" lines and ima"es that on other afternoons were drawin" crowds. 3n adapter
mi"ht well have seen his role as that of a 'play doctor' improvin" The Shrew . while c#ttin" it . by st#ffin" it with
the sort of material c#rrently in demand in pop#lar romantic comedies.*
25!
0iller "oes on to s#mmarise his theory$ *he appears to have wished to make the play shorter, more of a romantic
comedy f#ll of wooin" and "lamoro#s rhetoric, and to add more obvio#s, broad comedy.*
2D!
3s s#ch, 0iller
re7ects the bad :#arto theory, the early draft theory, the /r0Shrew theory and the so#rce theory in favo#r of his
own adaptation theory.
%edit& (nduction
William N#iller ;rchardson's ill#stration of Sly and the 'ord in the Ind#ction, en"raved by )harles William
Sharpe$ from the Imperial Edition of The #ors of Shaespere, edited by )harles Eni"ht >1CBD?
3 vital component of the miso"ynistic ar"#ment is the Ind#ction, and its p#rpose within the lar"er framework of
the play. )ritics have ar"#ed abo#t the meanin" of the Ind#ction for many years, and accordin" to ;liver, *it has
become orthodo%y to claim to find in the Ind#ction the same 'theme' as is to be fo#nd in both the 9ianca and the
Eatherine+(etr#chio plots of the main play, and to take it for "ranted that identity of theme is a merit and '7#stifies'
the introd#ction of Sly.*
50!
@or e%ample, Meoffrey 9#llo#"h ar"#es that the three plots *are all linked in idea
beca#se all contain disc#ssion of the relations of the se%es in marria"e.*
D0!
;liver disa"rees with this assessment
however, ar"#in" that *the Sly Ind#ction does not so m#ch anno#nce the theme of the enclosed stories as establish
their tone.*
D1!
&his point becomes important in terms of determinin" the serio#sness of Eatherina's final speech. ;liver ar"#es
that the Ind#ction is #sed to remove the a#dience from the world of the enclosed plot . to place the ontolo"ical
sphere of the Sly story on the same level of reality as the a#dience, and to place the ontolo"ical sphere of the
EatherinaA(etr#chio story on a different level of reality, where it will seem less real, more distant from the reality
of the viewin" p#blic. &his, he ar"#es, is done so as to ens#re the a#dience does not take the play literally, that it
sees it as a farce$ *&he dr#nken tinker may be believed in as one believes in any realistically presented character$
b#t we cannot 'believe' in somethin" that is not even mildly interestin" to him. &he play within the play has been
presented only after all the preliminaries have enco#ra"ed #s to take it as a farce ...! the main p#rpose of the
Ind#ction was to set the tone for the play within the play . in partic#lar, to present the story of Eate and her sister
as none+too+serio#s comedy p#t on to divert a dr#nken tinker.*
D,!
If one accepts this theory, then the Ind#ction
becomes vital to interpretation, as it serves to #ndermine any :#estions of the serio#sness of Eatherina's closin"
sentiments. 3s s#ch, if the Ind#ction is left o#t of a prod#ction of the play >as it very often is?, a f#ndamental part
of the inherent str#ct#re of the whole has been removed. If one a"rees with ;liver, not only does the Ind#ction
prove that Eatherina's speech is not to be taken serio#sly, it removes even the need to ask the :#estion of its
serio#sness in the first place. In this sense then, the Ind#ction has a vital role to play in the controversy of the play,
especially as it relates to miso"yny, as, if ;liver's ar"#ment is accepted, it serves to #nderc#t any char"es of
miso"yny before they can even be form#lated . the play is a farce, it is not to be taken serio#sly by the a#dience,
so :#estions of serio#sness re"ardin" the play within the play simply aren't an iss#e.
%edit& )eferences
3ll references to The Tamin' of the Shrew, #nless otherwise specified, are taken from the ;%ford Shakespeare
>;liver, 19C,?, which is based on the 1D,- @irst @olio. 8nder this referencin" system, 1.,.51 means 3ct 1, Scene
,, line 51.
1. + &he term was first #sed by in 3le%ander (ope in 1B,5, and has been commonly employed ever
since. &he 2irst 2olio te%t simply be"ins the play with the standard *A3t-s prim-s) S37na prima* headin",
and there is no differentiation between the Ind#ction and what is commonly referred to today as 3ct 1,
Scene 1 >'#centio arrivin" in (ad#a?.
,. + &hompson >19C2J 10?
-. + 1#an 0an#el, Li&ro de los e8emplos del 3onde L-3anor 4 de Patronio, Exemplo 999V: ; De lo
<-e 3ontes=i> a -n man=e&o <-e 3as> 3on -na m-'er m-4 f-erte et m-4 &rava.
2. + Shroeder >1959J ,5,?
5. + 5osley >19D2J ,C9.-0C?
Love2s La#our2s Lost
Love's Labour's Lost is one of William Shakespeare's early comedies, believed to have been written in the mid+
1590s, and first p#blished in 159C.
Characters
'erdinandJ Ein" of <avarre
Princess of 'rance
/ero"ne >or 9iron?, Longaville, and Dumaine >or
6#mian?J 'ords, attendin" on the Ein"
/o$et and Marcade >or 0ercade?J 'ords, attendin" on
the (rincess of @rance
)osaline, Maria, and ,atharineJ 'adies, attendin" on
the (rincess
Don Adriano de ArmadoJ a fantastical Spaniard
Sir *athanielJ a )#rate
olofernesJ a Schoolmaster
DullJ a )onstable
CostardJ a )lown
MothJ (a"e to 3rmado
A 'orester
Ja3uenettaJ a co#ntry Wench
!fficers and !thers4 Attendants on the ,ing and
Princess
%edit& S$nopsis
&he play opens with the Ein" of <avarre and three noble companions, 9erowne, 6#maine, and 'on"aville, takin"
an oath to devote themselves to three years of st#dy, promisin" not to "ive in to the company of women .
9erowne somewhat more hesitantly than the others. 9erowne reminds the kin" that the princess and her three
ladies are comin" to the kin"dom and it wo#ld be s#icidal for the Ein" to a"ree to this law. &he Ein" denies what
9erowne says, insistin" that the ladies make their camp in the field o#tside of his co#rt. &he Ein" and his men
meet the princess and her ladies. Instantly, they all fall comically in love.
&he main story is assisted by many other h#moro#s s#b+plots. 3 rather heavy+accented Spanish swordsman, 6on
3driano de 3rmado, tries and fails to woo a co#ntry wench, 1a:#enetta, helped by 0oth, his pa"e, and rivalled by
)ostard, a co#ntry idiot. We are also introd#ced to two scholars, 5olofernes and Sir <athaniel, and we see them
converse with each other in schoolboy 'atin. In the final act, the comic characters perform a play to entertain the
nobles, an idea conceived by 5olofernes, where they represent the <ine Worthies. &he fo#r 'ords . as well as the
'adies' co#rtier 9oyet . mock the play, and 3rmado and )ostard almost come to blows.
3t the end of this 'play' within the play, there is a bitter twist in the story. <ews arrives that the (rincess's father
has died and she m#st leave to take the throne. &he kin" and his nobles swear to remain faithf#l to their ladies, b#t
the ladies, #nconvinced that their love is that stron", claim that the men m#st wait a whole year and a day to prove
what they say is tr#e. &his is an #n#s#al endin" for Shakespeare and =li4abethan comedy. 3 play mentioned by
@rancis 0eres, Love?s La&o-r?s #on, is believed by some to be a se:#el to this play.
1!
%edit& *ote
1. + En#tson, Foslynn, The 5epertor4 of Shaespeare?s "ompan4) *@AB;*C*D >@ayattevilleJ
8niversity of 3rkansas (ress, 1991?J B5.
,. + Wo#dh#ysen, 5. F., ed. Love?s La&o-rs Lost >'ondonJ 3rden Shakespeare, 199C?J D1.
-. + Eerri"an, 1. ed. *'ove's 'abo#rs 'ost*, <ew (en"#in Shakespeare, 5armondsworth 19C,, IS9<
0+12+0B0B-C+B
2. + Wo#dh#ysen, 5. F., ed. Love?s La&o-r?s Lost >'ondonJ 3rden Shakespeare, 199C?J 59.
5. See title pa"e of facsimile of the ori"inal 1st edition >159C?
A idsummer !ight's "ream
A idsummer !ight's "ream is a play that was written by William Shakespeare. It is believed to have been
written between 1590 and 159D. It portrays the events s#rro#ndin" the marria"e of the 6#ke of 3thens, &hese#s,
and the N#een of the 3ma4ons, 5ippolyta. &hese incl#de the advent#res of fo#r yo#n" 3thenian lovers and a
"ro#p of 9 amate#r actors, who are manip#lated by the fairies who inhabit the forest in which most of the play is
set. &he play is one of Shakespeare's most pop#lar works for the sta"e and is widely performed across the world.
Characters
#edit$ The Athenians
&hese#s, 6#ke of 3thens
5ippolyta, N#een of the
3ma4ons, betrothed of
&hese#s
(hilostrate, 0aster of the
Fevels for &hese#s
="e#s, father of 5ermia,
wants his da#"hter to marry
6emetri#s
5ermia, in love with 'ysander
5elena, in love with
6emetri#s
'ysander,fi%ated on 5ermia
#ntil a potion shifts his
affections to 5elena
6emetri#s,in love with 5elena
while #nder the spell of the
potion
#edit$ The %airies
;beron, Ein" of the @airies
&itania, N#een of the @airies
(#ck, a.k.a. Fobin
Moodfellow, servant to
;beron
&itania's fairy servants
o (easeblossom, fairy
o )obweb, fairy
o 0oth, fairy
o 0#stardseed, fairy
#edit$ The echanicals
>3n actin" tro#pe in the forest?
(eter N#ince, carpenter, who
leads the tro#pe and is the
(rolo"#e
<ick 9ottom, weaver$ 9ottom
is t#rned into a donkey and is
loved by &itania, he plays
(yram#s in the tro#pe's
prod#ction of *(yram#s and
&hisbe*.
@rancis @l#te, the bellows+
mender who plays &hisbe.
Fobin Starvelin", the tailor
who plays 0oonshine.
&om Sno#t, the tinker who
plays Wall.
Sn#", the 7oiner who plays a
'ion.
%edit& S$nopsis
&he play feat#res three interlockin" plots, connected by a celebration of the weddin" of 6#ke &hese#s of 3thens
and the 3ma4on :#een, 5ippolyta, and set sim#ltaneo#sly in the woodland, and in the realm of @airyland, #nder
the li"ht of the moon.
1!
In the openin" scene, 5ermia ref#ses to follow her father ="e#s's instr#ctions to marry 6emetri#s, whom he has
chosen for her. In response, ="e#s :#otes before &hese#s an ancient 3thenian law whereby a da#"hter m#st marry
the s#itor chosen by her father, or else face death. &hese#s offers her another choiceJ lifelon" chastity worshipin"
the "oddess 6iana as a n#n.
3t that same time, N#ince and his fellow players were en"a"ed to prod#ce an act which is *the most lamentable
comedy and most cr#el death of (yram#s and &hisbe*, for the 6#ke and the 6#chess.
,!
(eter N#ince reads the
names of characters and bestows them to the players. <ick 9ottom who is playin" the main role of (yram#s, is
over+enth#siastic and wants to dominate others by s#""estin" himself for the characters of &hisbe, &he 'ion and
(yram#s at the same time. 3lso he wo#ld rather be a tyrant and recites some lines of =rcles or 5erc#les. N#ince
ends the meetin" with *at the 6#ke's oak we meet*.
0eanwhile, ;beron, kin" of the fairies, and his :#een, &itania, have come to the forest o#tside 3thens. &itania
tells ;beron that she plans to stay there #ntil after she has attended &hese#s and 5ippolyta's weddin". ;beron and
&itania are estran"ed beca#se &itania ref#ses to "ive her Indian chan"elin" to ;beron for #se as his *kni"ht* or
*henchman,* since the child's mother was one of &itania's worshipers. ;beron seeks to p#nish &itania's
disobedience, so he calls for his mischievo#s co#rt 7ester (#ck or *Fobin Moodfellow* to help him apply a ma"ical
7#ice from a flower called *love+in+idleness,* which when applied to a person's eyelids while sleepin" makes the
victim fall in love with the first livin" thin" seen #pon awakenin". 5e instr#cts (#ck to retrieve the flower so that
he can make &itania fall in love with the first thin" she sees when wakin" from sleep, which he is s#re will be an
animal of the forest. ;beron's intent is to shame &itania into "ivin" #p the little Indian boy. 5e says, *3nd ere I
take this charm from off her si"ht, A 3s I can take it with another herb, A I'll make her render #p her pa"e to me.*
-!
5avin" seen 6emetri#s act cr#elly toward 5elena, ;beron orders (#ck to spread some of the ma"ical 7#ice from
the flower on the eyelids of the yo#n" 3thenian man. Instead, (#ck mistakes 'ysander for 6emetri#s, not havin"
act#ally seen either before, and administers the 7#ice to the sleepin" 'ysander. 5elena, comin" across him, wakes
him while attemptin" to determine whether he is dead or asleep. 8pon this happenin", 'ysander immediately falls
in love with 5elena. ;beron sees 6emetri#s still followin" 5ermia and is enra"ed. When 6emetri#s decides to "o
to sleep, ;beron sends (#ck to "et 5elena while he charms 6emetri#s' eyes. 8pon wakin" #p, he sees 5elena.
<ow, both men are in p#rs#it of 5elena. 5owever, she is convinced that her two s#itors are mockin" her, as
neither loved her ori"inally. 5ermia is at a loss to see why her lover has abandoned her, and acc#ses 5elena of
stealin" 'ysander away from her. &he fo#r :#arrel with each other #ntil 'ysander and 6emetri#s become so
enra"ed that they seek a place to d#el each other to prove whose love for 5elena is the "reatest. ;beron orders
(#ck to keep 'ysander and 6emetri#s from catchin" #p with one another and to remove the charm from 'ysander,
so that he "oes back to bein" in love with 5ermia.
0eanwhile, N#ince and his band of si% labo#rers >*r#de mechanicals*, as they are described by (#ck? have
arran"ed to perform their play abo#t (yram#s and &hisbe for &hese#s' weddin" and vent#re into the forest, near
&itania's bower, for their rehearsal. 9ottom is spotted by (#ck, who >takin" his name to be another word for a
7ackass? transforms his head into that of a donkey. When 9ottom ret#rns for his ne%t lines, the other workmen r#n
screamin" in terror, m#ch to 9ottom's conf#sion, since he hasn't felt a thin" d#rin" the transformation. 6etermined
to wait for his friends, he be"ins to sin" to himself. &itania is awakened by 9ottom's sin"in" and immediately falls
in love with him. She lavishes him with attention, and pres#mably makes love to him. While she is in this state of
devotion, ;beron takes the chan"elin". 5avin" achieved his "oals, ;beron releases &itania, orders (#ck to remove
the donkey's head from 9ottom, and arran"e everythin" so that 5ermia, 'ysander, 6emetri#s, and 5elena will
believe that they have been dreamin" when they awaken. 6emetri#s is left #nder the spell and in love with 5elena.
&he fairies then disappear, and &hese#s and 5ippolyta arrive on the scene, d#rin" an early mornin" h#nt. &hey
wake the lovers and, since 6emetri#s does not love 5ermia any more, &hese#s overr#les ="e#s's demands and
arran"es a "ro#p weddin". &he lovers decide that the ni"ht's events m#st have been a dream. 3fter they all e%it,
9ottom awakes, and he too decides that he m#st have e%perienced a dream *past the wit of man*. In 3thens,
&hese#s, 5ippolyta and the lovers watch the si% workmen perform P4ram-s and This&e% Miven a lack of
preparaton, the performers are so terrible playin" their roles to the point where the "#ests la#"h as if it were meant
to be a comedy, and afterward everyone retires to bed. 3fterward, ;beron, &itania, (#ck, and other fairies enter,
and bless the ho#se and its occ#pants with "ood fort#ne. 3fter all other characters leave, (#ck *restores amends*
and reminds the a#dience that this mi"ht be nothin" b#t a dream >hence the name of the play?.
Anal$sis and criticism
%edit& Themes in the stor$
%edit& Love
6avid 9evin"ton ar"#es that the play represents the dark side of love. 5e writes that the fairies make li"ht of love
by mistakin" the lovers and by applyin" a love potion to &itania's eyes, forcin" her to fall in love with an ass.
C!
In
the forest, both co#ples are beset by problems. 5ermia and 'ysander are both met by (#ck, who provides some
comic relief in the play by confo#ndin" the fo#r lovers in the forest. 5owever, the play also all#des to serio#s
themes. 3t the end of the play, 5ermia and 'ysander, happily married, watch the play abo#t the #nfort#nate lovers,
(yram#s and &hisbe, and are able to en7oy and la#"h at it.
9!
5elena and 6emetri#s are both oblivio#s to the dark
side of their love, totally #naware of what may have come of the events in the forest.
%edit& Pro#lem "ith time
&here is a disp#te over the scenario of the play as it is cited at first by &hese#s that *fo#r happy days brin" in
another moon*,
,!
the wood episode then takes place at a ni"ht of no moon, b#t 'ysander asserts that there will be
so m#ch li"ht in the very ni"ht they will escape that dew on the "rass will be shinin"
10!
like li:#id pearls. 3lso, in
the ne%t scene N#ince states that they will rehearse in moonli"ht
11!
which creates a real conf#sion. It is possible
that the 0oon set d#rin" the ni"ht allowin" 'ysander to escape in the moonli"ht and for the actors to rehearse,
then for the wood episode to occ#r witho#t moonli"ht. &hese#s's statement can mean fo#r days #ntil the ne%t
month.
%edit& Loss of individual identit$
0a#rice 5#nt, )hair of the =n"lish 6epartment at 9aylor 8niversity, writes of the bl#rrin" of the identities of
fantasy and reality in the play that make possible *that pleasin", narcotic dreaminess associated with the fairies of
the play*.
1,!
9y emphasisin" this theme even in the settin" of the play, Shakespeare prepares the reader's mind to
accept the fantastic reality of the fairy world and its ma"ical happenin"s. &his also seems to be the a%is aro#nd
which the plot conflicts in the play occ#r. 5#nt s#""ests that it is the breakin" down of individ#al identities that
leads to the central conflict in the story.
1,!
It is the brawl between ;beron and &itania, based on a lack of
reco"nition for the other in the relationship, that drives the rest of the drama in the story and makes it dan"ero#s
for any of the other lovers to come to"ether d#e to the dist#rbance of <at#re ca#sed by a fairy disp#te.
1,!

Similarly, this fail#re to identify and make distinction is what leads (#ck to mistake one set of lovers for another in
the forest and place the 7#ice of the flower on 'ysander's eyes instead of 6emetri#s'.
/ictor Eiernan, a 0ar%ist scholar and historian, writes that it is for the "reater sake of love that this loss of identity
takes place and that individ#al characters are made to s#ffer accordin"lyJ *It was the more e%trava"ant c#lt of love
that str#ck sensible people as irrational, and likely to have d#bio#s effects on its acolytes*.
1-!
5e believes that
identities in the play are not so m#ch lost as they are blended to"ether to create a type of ha4e thro#"h which
distinction becomes nearly impossible. It is driven by a desire for new and more practical ties between characters
as a means of copin" with the stran"e world within the forest, even in relationships as diverse and seemin"ly
#nrealistic as the brief love between &itania and 9ottom the 3ssJ *It was the tidal force of this social need that lent
ener"y to relationships*.
12!
6avid 0arshall, an aesthetics scholar and =n"lish (rofessor at the 8niversity of )alifornia . Santa 9arbara, takes
this theme to an even f#rther concl#sion,
3itation needed!
pointin" o#t that the loss of identity is especially played o#t in
the description of the mechanicals their ass#mption of other identities. In describin" the occ#pations of the actin"
tro#pe, he writes *&wo constr#ct or p#t to"ether, two mend and repair, one weaves and one sews. 3ll 7oin to"ether
what is apart or mend what has been rent, broken, or s#ndered*. In 0arshall's opinion, this loss of individ#al
identity not only bl#rs specificities, it creates new identities fo#nd in comm#nity, which 0arshall points o#t may
lead to some #nderstandin" of Shakespeare's opinions on love and marria"e. @#rther, the mechanicals #nderstand
this theme as they take on their individ#al parts for a corporate performance of (yram#s and &hisbe. 0arshall
remarks that *&o be an actor is to do#ble and divide oneself, to discover oneself in two partsJ both oneself and not
oneself, both the part and not the part*. 5e claims that the mechanicals #nderstand this and that each character,
partic#larly amon" the lovers, has a sense of layin" down individ#al identity for the "reater benefit of the "ro#p or
pairin". It seems that a desire to lose one's individ#ality and find identity in the love of another is what :#ietly
moves the events of A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream. It is the primary sense of motivation and is even reflected in the
scenery and mood of the story.
%edit& Am#iguous se5ualit$
In his essay *(repostero#s (leas#res, N#eer &heories and A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream*, 6o#"las =. Mreen
e%plores possible interpretations of alternative se%#ality that he finds within the te%t of the play, in 7#%taposition to
the proscribed social mores of the c#lt#re at the time the play was written. 5e writes that his essay *does not >seek
to? rewrite A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream as a "ay play b#t rather e%plores some of its 'homoerotic si"nifications' ...
moments of ':#eer' disr#ption and er#ption in this Shakespearean comedy*.
15!
Mreen states that he does not
consider Shakspeare to have been a *se%#al radical*, b#t that the play represented a *topsy+t#rvy world* or
*temporary holiday* that mediates or ne"otiates the *discontents of civilisation*, which while resolved neatly in
the story's concl#sion, do not resolve so neatly in real life.
1D!
Mreen writes that the *sodomitical elements*,
*homoeroticism*, *lesbianism*, and even *comp#lsory heterose%#ality* in the story m#st be considered in the
conte%t of the *c#lt#re of early modern =n"land* as a commentary on the *aesthetic ri"idities of comic form and
political ideolo"ies of the prevailin" order*. 3spects of ambi"#o#s se%#ality and "ender conflict in the story are
also addressed in essays by Shirley Marner
1B!
and William W.=. Sli"hts
1C!
albeit all the characters are played by
males.
%edit& 'eminism
0ale dominance is one thematic element fo#nd in A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream. In A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream,
'ysander and 5ermia escape into the woods for a ni"ht where they do not fall #nder the laws of &hese#s or ="e#s.
8pon their arrival in 3thens, the co#ples are married. 0arria"e is seen as the #ltimate social achievement for
women while men can "o on to do many other "reat thin"s and "ain societal reco"nition.
19!
In his article, *&he
Imperial /otaress*, 'o#is 0ontrose draws attention to male and female "ender roles and norms present in the
comedy in connection with =li4abethan c#lt#re. In reference to the triple weddin", he says, *&he festive
concl#sion in A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream depends #pon the s#ccess of a process by which the feminine pride
and power manifested in 3ma4on warriors, possessive mothers, #nr#ly wives, and wilf#l da#"hters are bro#"ht
#nder the control of lords and h#sbands.*
,0!
5e says that the cons#mmation of marria"e is how power over a
woman chan"es hands from father to h#sband. 3 connection between flowers and se%#ality is drawn. &he 7#ice
employed by ;beron can be seen as symbolisin" menstr#al blood as well as the se%#al blood shed by vir"ins.
While blood as a res#lt of menstr#ation is representative of a woman's power, blood as a res#lt of a first se%#al
enco#nter represents man's power over women.
,1!
&here are points in the play, however, when there is an absence of patriarchal control. In his book, Power on
Displa4, 'eonard &ennenho#se says the problem in A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream is the problem of *a#thority "one
archaic*.
,,!
&he 3thenian law re:#irin" a da#"hter to die if she does not do her father's will is o#tdated.
&ennenho#se contrasts the patriarchal r#le of &hese#s in 3thens with that of ;beron in the carnivalistic @aerie
world. &he disorder in the land of the faeries completely opposes the world of 3thens. 5e states that d#rin" times
of carnival and festival, male power is broken down. @or e%ample, what happens to the fo#r lovers in the woods as
well as 9ottom's dream represents chaos that contrasts with &hese#s' political order. 5owever, &hese#s does not
p#nish the lovers for their disobedience. 3ccordin" to &ennenho#se, by for"ivin" of the lovers, he has made a
distinction between the law of the patriarch >="e#s? and that of the monarch >&hese#s?, creatin" two different
voices of a#thority. &his distinction can be compared to the time of =li4abeth I in which monarchs were seen as
havin" two bodiesJ the body nat#ral and the body mystical. =li4abeth's s#ccession itself represented both the voice
of a patriarch as well as the voice of a monarchJ >1? her father's will which stated that the crown sho#ld pass to her
and >,? the fact that she was the da#"hter of a kin".
,-!
&he challen"e to patriarchal r#le in A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s
Dream mirrors e%actly what was occ#rrin" in the a"e of =li4abeth I.
)eferences
1. + Shakespeare, William >19B9?. 5arold @. 9rooks. ed. The Arden Shaespeare EA Mids-mmer
Ni'hts DreamE. 0eth#en O )o. 'td. c%%v. IS9< 0+215+0,D99+B.
,. P
a

b
Qa mids#mmer ni"ht's dreamQ editorRF. 3. @oakes Q )ambrid"e 8niversity (ress
-. + A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream , 3ct ,, Scene 1, 'ines 1C-.1C5.
2. + A Mids-mmer Ni'ht?s Dream by Fev. 1ohn 5#nter $ 'ondon$ 'on"mans, Mreen and );.$1CB0
5. + S28lan"#a"es.)om See title pa"e of facsimile of this edition, claimin" 1ames Foberts as a
p#blisher and 1D00 as the p#blishin" date?
John Dr$den
John Dr$den >9 3#"#st 1D-1 . 1 0ay 1B00? was an infl#ential =n"lish poet, literary critic, translator, and
playwri"ht who dominated the literary life of Festoration =n"land to s#ch a point that the period came to be
known in literary circles as the 3"e of 6ryden. Walter Scott called him *Mlorio#s 1ohn.*
1!
5e was made (oet
'a#reate in 1DDB.
Earl$ life
6ryden was born in the villa"e rectory of 3ldwincle near &hrapston in <orthamptonshire, where his maternal
"randfather was Fector of 3ll Saints. 5e was the eldest of fo#rteen children born to =rasm#s 6ryden and wife
0ary (ickerin", paternal "randson of Sir =rasm#s 6ryden, 1st 9aronet >155-.1D-,? and wife @rances Wilkes,
(#ritan landownin" "entry who s#pported the (#ritan ca#se and (arliament. 5e was also a second co#sin once
removed of 1onathan Swift. 3s a boy 6ryden lived in the nearby villa"e of &itchmarsh, <orthamptonshire where it
is also likely that he received his first ed#cation. In 1D22 he was sent to Westminster School as a Ein"Ss Scholar
where his headmaster was 6r Fichard 9#sby, a charismatic teacher and severe disciplinarian.
,!
5avin" recently
been re+fo#nded by =li4abeth I, Westminster d#rin" this period embraced a very different reli"io#s and political
spirit enco#ra"in" royalism and hi"h 3n"licanism. Whatever 6rydenSs response to this was, he clearly respected
the 5eadmaster and wo#ld later send two of his own sons to school at Westminster. In the late twentieth cent#ry a
ho#se at Westminster was fo#nded in his name.
3s a h#manist p#blic school, Westminster maintained a c#rric#l#m which trained p#pils in the art of rhetoric and
the presentation of ar"#ments for both sides of a "iven iss#e. &his is a skill which wo#ld remain with 6ryden and
infl#ence his later writin" and thinkin", as m#ch of it displays these dialectical patterns. &he Westminster
c#rric#l#m also incl#ded weekly translation assi"nments which developed 6rydenSs capacity for assimilation. &his
was also to be e%hibited in his later works. 5is years at Westminster were not #neventf#l, and his first p#blished
poem, an ele"y with a stron" royalist feel on the death of his schoolmate 5enry, 'ord 5astin"s from smallpo%,
all#des to the e%ec#tion of Ein" )harles I, which took place on -0 1an#ary 1D29, very near the school where 6r
9#sby had first prayed for the Ein" and then locked in his schoolboys to prevent their attendin" the spectacle.
In 1D50 6ryden went #p to &rinity )olle"e, )ambrid"e.
-!
5ere he wo#ld have e%perienced a ret#rn to the reli"io#s
and political ethos of his childhoodJ the 0aster of &rinity was a (#ritan preacher by the name of &homas 5ill who
had been a rector in 6rydenSs home villa"e.
2!
&ho#"h there is little specific information on 6rydenSs
#nder"rad#ate years, he wo#ld most certainly have followed the standard c#rric#l#m of classics, rhetoric, and
mathematics. In 1D52 he obtained his 93, "rad#atin" top of the list for &rinity that year. In 1#ne of the same year
6rydenSs father died, leavin" him some land which "enerated a little income, b#t not eno#"h to live on.
5!
Fet#rnin" to 'ondon d#rin" &he (rotectorate, 6ryden obtained work with )romwellSs Secretary of State, 1ohn
&h#rloe. &his appointment may have been the res#lt of infl#ence e%ercised on his behalf by his co#sin the 'ord
)hamberlain, Sir Milbert (ickerin". 3t )romwellSs f#neral on ,- <ovember 1D5C 6ryden processed with the
(#ritan poets 1ohn 0ilton and 3ndrew 0arvell. Shortly thereafter he p#blished his first important poem,
,eroi<-e Stan6as >1D5C?, a e#lo"y on )romwellSs death which is ca#tio#s and pr#dent in its emotional display. In
1DD0 6ryden celebrated the Festoration of the monarchy and the ret#rn of )harles II with Astraea 5ed-x, an
a#thentic royalist pane"yric. In this work the interre"n#m is ill#strated as a time of anarchy, and )harles is seen as
the restorer of peace and order.
%edit& Later life and career
3fter the Festoration, 6ryden :#ickly established himself as the leadin" poet and literary critic of his day and he
transferred his alle"iances to the new "overnment. 3lon" with Astraea 5ed-x, 6ryden welcomed the new re"ime
with two more pane"yrics$ To ,is Sa3red Ma8est4! A Pane'4ri3 on his "oronation >1DD,?, and To M4 Lord
"han3ellor >1DD,?. &hese poems s#""est that 6ryden was lookin" to co#rt a possible patron, b#t he was to instead
make a livin" in writin" for p#blishers, not for the aristocracy, and th#s #ltimately for the readin" p#blic. &hese,
and his other nondramatic poems, are occasionalKthat is, they celebrate p#blic events. &h#s they are written for
the nation rather than the self, and the (oet 'a#reate >as he wo#ld later become? is obli"ed to write a certain
n#mber of these per ann#m.
D!
In <ovember 1DD, 6ryden was proposed for membership in the Foyal Society, and
he was elected an early fellow. 5owever, 6ryden was inactive in Society affairs and in 1DDD was e%pelled for non+
payment of his d#es.
;n 1 6ecember 1DD- 6ryden married the royalist sister of Sir Fobert 5owardK'ady =li4abeth. 6rydenSs works
occasionally contain o#tb#rsts a"ainst the married state b#t also celebrations of the same. &h#s, little is known of
the intimate side of his marria"e. 'ady =li4abeth however, was to bear him three sons and o#tlive him.
With the reopenin" of the theatres after the (#ritan ban, 6ryden b#sied himself with the composition of plays. 5is
first play, The #ild Gallant appeared in 1DD- and was not s#ccessf#l, b#t he was to have more s#ccess, and from
1DDC on he was contracted to prod#ce three plays a year for the Ein"'s )ompany in which he was also to become a
shareholder. 6#rin" the 1DD0s and B0s theatrical writin" was to be his main so#rce of income. 5e led the way in
Festoration comedy, his best known work bein" Marria'e F la Mode >1DB,?, as well as heroic tra"edy and re"#lar
tra"edy, in which his "reatest s#ccess was All for Love >1DBC?. 6ryden was never satisfied with his theatrical
writin"s and fre:#ently s#""ested that his talents were wasted on #nworthy a#diences. 5e th#s was makin" a bid
for poetic fame off+sta"e. In 1DDB, aro#nd the same time his dramatic career be"an, he p#blished Ann-s Mira&ilis,
a len"thy historical poem which described the events of 1DDD$ the =n"lish defeat of the 6#tch naval fleet and the
Mreat @ire of 'ondon. It was a modern epic in pentameter :#atrains that established him as the preeminent poet of
his "eneration, and was cr#cial in his attainin" the posts of (oet 'a#reate >1DDC? and historio"rapher royal >1DB0?.
When the Mreat (la"#e of 'ondon closed the theatres in 1DD5 6ryden retreated to Wiltshire where he wrote Of
Dramati3 Poesie >1DDC?, ar"#ably the best of his #nsystematic prefaces and essays. 6ryden constantly defended
his own literary practice, and Of Dramati3 Poesie, the lon"est of his critical works, takes the form of a dialo"#e
in which fo#r characters.each based on a prominent contemporary, with 6ryden himself as T<eanderSKdebate the
merits of classical, @rench and =n"lish drama. &he "reater part of his critical works introd#ce problems which he
is ea"er to disc#ss, and show the work of a writer of independent mind who feels stron"ly abo#t his own ideas,
ideas which demonstrate the incredible breadth of his readin". 5e felt stron"ly abo#t the relation of the poet to
tradition and the creative process, and his best heroic play A-ren'06e&e >1DB5? has a prolo"#e which deno#nces
the #se of rhyme in serio#s drama. 5is play All for Love >1DBC? was written in blank verse, and was to
immediately follow A-ren'0Ge&e. In 1DB9 he was attacked in an alley near his home in )ovent Marden by th#"s
hired by 1ohn Wilmot, ,nd =arl of Fochester,
B!
with whom he had a lon"+standin" conflict.
C!
6ryden's "reatest achievements were in satiric verseJ the mock+heroic Ma32le3noe, a more personal prod#ct of
his 'a#reate years, was a lampoon circ#lated in man#script and an attack on the playwri"ht &homas Shadwell.
6ryden's main "oal in the work is to *satiri4e Shadwell, ostensibly for his offenses a"ainst literat#re b#t more
immediately we may s#ppose for his habit#al bad"erin" of him on the sta"e and in print.*
9!
It is not a belittlin"
form of satire, b#t rather one which makes his ob7ect "reat in ways which are #ne%pected, transferrin" the
ridic#lo#s into poetry.
10!
&his line of satire contin#ed with A&salom and A3hitophel >1DC1? and The Medal >1DC,?.
5is other ma7or works from this period are the reli"io#s poems 5eli'io Lai3i >1DC,?, written from the position of a
member of the )h#rch of =n"land$ his 1DC- edition of Pl-tar3h?s Lives Translated 2rom the Gree &4 Several
,ands in which he introd#ced the word bio"raphy to =n"lish readers$ and The ,ind and the Panther) >1DCB?
which celebrates his conversion to Foman )atholicism.
When in 1DCC 1ames was deposed, 6rydenSs ref#sal to take the oaths of alle"iance to the new "overnment left him
o#t of favo#r at co#rt. &homas Shadwell s#cceeded him as (oet 'a#reate, and he was forced to "ive #p his p#blic
offices and live by the proceeds of his pen. 6ryden translated works by 5orace, 1#venal, ;vid, '#creti#s, and
&heocrit#s, a task which he fo#nd far more satisfyin" than writin" for the sta"e. In 1D92 he be"an work on what
wo#ld be his most ambitio#s and definin" work as translator, The #ors of Vir'il >1D9B?, which was p#blished by
s#bscription. &he p#blication of the translation of /ir"il was a national event and bro#"ht 6ryden the s#m of
U1,200.
11!
5is final translations appeared in the vol#me 2a&les An3ient and Modern >1B00?, a series of episodes
from 5omer, ;vid, and 9occaccio, as well as moderni4ed adaptations from Meoffrey )ha#cer interspersed with
6rydenSs own poems. &he Prefa3e to 2a&les is considered to be both a ma7or work of criticism and one of the
finest essays in =n"lish.
3itation needed!
3s a critic and translator he was essential in makin" accessible to the readin"
=n"lish p#blic literary works in the classical lan"#a"es.
6ryden died on 0ay 1, 1B00, and was initially b#ried in St. 3nne's cemetery in Soho, before bein" e%h#med and
reb#ried in Westminster 3bbey ten days later.
1,!
5e was the s#b7ect of vario#s poetic e#lo"ies, s#ch as L-3t-s
$rittanni3i! or the Tears of the $ritish M-sesH for the Death of Iohn Dr4den) Es<% >'ondon, 1B00?, and The Nine
M-ses.
Poetic st$le
What 6ryden achieved in his poetry was not the emotional e%citement we find in the Fomantic poets of the early
nineteenth cent#ry, nor the intellect#al comple%ities of the metaphysical poets. 5is s#b7ect+matter was often
fact#al, and he aimed at e%pressin" his tho#"hts in the most precise and concentrated way possible. 3ltho#"h he
#ses formal poetic str#ct#res s#ch as heroic stan4as and heroic co#plets, he tried to achieve the rhythms of speech.
5owever, he knew that different s#b7ects need different kinds of verse, and in his preface to 5eli'io Lai3i he
wroteJ V...the e%pressions of a poem desi"ned p#rely for instr#ction o#"ht to be plain and nat#ral, yet
ma7estic...&he florid, elevated and fi"#rative way is for the passions$ for >these? are be"otten in the so#l by
showin" the ob7ects o#t of their tr#e proportion....3 man is to be cheated into passion, b#t to be reasoned into
tr#th.W
%edit& Selected "orks
Astraea 5ed-x, 1DD0
The #ild Gallant >comedy?, 1DD-
The Indian Empero-r >tra"edy?, 1DD5
Ann-s Mira&ilis >poem?, 1DDB
The En3hanted Island >comedy?, 1DDB, an adaptation with William 6'3venant of Shakespeare's The
Tempest
Se3ret Love) or The Maiden 1-een, 1DDB
An Essa4 of Dramati3 Poesie, 1DDC
An Evenin'?s Love >comedy?, 1DDC
T4ranni3 Love >tra"edy?, 1DD9
The "on<-est of Granada, 1DB0
The Assi'nation) or Love in a N-nner4, 1DB,
Marria'e F la mode, 1DB,
Am&o4na) or the "r-elties of the D-t3h to the En'lish Mer3hants, 1DB-
The Mistaen ,-s&and >comedy?, 1DB2
A-ren'06e&e, 1DB5
All for Love, 1DBC
Oedip-s >heroic drama?, 1DB9, an adaptation with <athaniel 'ee of Sophocles' Oedip-s
A&salom and A3hitophel, 1DC1
The Spanish 2r4ar, 1DC1
Ma32le3noe, 1DC,
The Medal, 1DC,
5eli'io Lai3i, 1DC,
Threnodia A-'-stalis, 1DC5
The ,ind and the Panther, 1DCB
A Son' for St% "e3ilia?s Da4, 1DCB
Amphitr4on, 1D90
Don Se&astian, 1D90
"reator Spirit) &4 whose aid, 1D90. &ranslation of Faban#s 0a#r#s' /eni )reator Spirit#s
,,!
(in' Arth-r, 1D91
"leomenes, 1D9,
Love Tri-mphant, 1D92
The #ors of Vir'il, 1D9B
Alexander?s 2east, 1D9B
2a&les) An3ient and Modern, 1B00
The Art of Satire
&o the 0emory of 0r. ;ldham, 1DC2
)omantic poetr$
The 2-neral of Shelle4 by 'o#is =do#ard @o#rnier >1CC9?$ pict#red in the centre are, from left, &relawny, 5#nt
and 9yron
)omanticism, a philosophical, literary, artistic and c#lt#ral era
1!
which be"an in the midAlate+1Cth cent#ry
,!
as a
reaction a"ainst the prevailin" =nli"htenment ideals of the day >Fomantics favo#red more nat#ral, emotional and
personal artistic themes?,
-!2!
also infl#enced poetry. Inevitably, the characteri4ation of a broad ran"e of
contemporaneo#s poets and poetry #nder the sin"le #nifyin" name can be viewed more as an e%ercise in historical
compartmentali4ation than an attempt to capt#re the essence of the act#al TmovementS.
3itation needed!
(oets s#ch as William Wordsworth were actively en"a"ed in tryin" to create a new kind of poetry that emphasi4ed
int#ition over reason and the pastoral over the #rban, often eschewin" conscio#sly poetic lan"#a"e in an effort to
#se more collo:#ial lan"#a"e. Wordsworth himself in the (reface to his and )olerid"e's L4ri3al $allads defined
"ood poetry as Vthe spontaneo#s overflow of powerf#l feelin"s,W tho#"h in the same sentence he "oes on to clarify
this statement by assertin" that nonetheless any poem of val#e m#st still be composed by a man Vpossessed of
more than #s#al or"anic sensibility who has! also tho#"ht lon" and deeply$W he also emphasises the importance of
the #se of meter in poetry >which he views as one of the key feat#res that differentiates poetry from prose?.
5!

3ltho#"h many people stress the notion of spontaneity in Fomantic poetry, the movement was still "reatly
concerned with the pain of composition, of translatin" these emotive responses into poetic form. Indeed, Sam#el
&aylor )olerid"e, another prominent Fomantic poet and critic in his On Poes4 or Art sees art as Vthe mediatress
between, and reconciler of nat#re and manW.
D!
S#ch an attit#de reflects what mi"ht be called the dominant theme
of Fomantic poetryJ the filterin" of nat#ral emotion thro#"h the h#man mind in order to create art, co#pled with an
awareness of the d#ality created by s#ch a process.
@or some critics, the term establishes an artificial conte%t for disparate work and removin" that work from its real
historical conte%t* at the e%pense of e:#ally valid themes >partic#larly those related to politics.?
B!
&he si% most well+known =n"lish a#thors are, in order of birth and with an e%ample of their workJ
&he si% most well+known =n"lish a#thors are, in order of birth and with an e%ample of their workJ
William 9lake + The Marria'e of ,eaven and ,ell
William Wordsworth + The Prel-de
Sam#el &aylor )olerid"e + 5ime of the An3ient Mariner
Meor"e Mordon, 'ord 9yron + Don I-an *)hilde 5arold's (il"rima"e*
(ercy 9ysshe Shelley + Promethe-s /n&o-nd *3donais* *;de to the West Wind* *;4ymandias*
1ohn Eeats + Great Odes *5yperion* *=ndymion*
3ltho#"h chronolo"ically earliest amon" these writers, William 9lake was a relatively late addition to the list$
prior to the 19B0s, romanticism was known for its *9i" @ive.*
C!
1illiam 1ords"orth
1illiam 1ords"orth >B 3pril 1BB0 . ,- 3pril 1C50? was a ma7or =n"lish Fomantic poet who, with Sam#el
&aylor )olerid"e, helped to la#nch the Fomantic 3"e in =n"lish literat#re with the 1B9C 7oint p#blication L4ri3al
$allads%
Wordsworth's ma"n#m op#s is "enerally considered to be The Prel-de) a semia#tobio"raphical poem of his early
years which he revised and e%panded a n#mber of times. It was posth#mo#sly titled and p#blished, prior to which
it was "enerally known as the poem *to )olerid"e*. Wordsworth was 9ritain's (oet 'a#reate from 1C2- #ntil his
death in 1C50.
%edit& Earl$ life
&he second of five children born to 1ohn Wordsworth and 3nn )ookson, William Wordsworth was born on B 3pril
1BB0 in Wordsworth 5o#se in )ockermo#th, )#mberland
1!
Kpart of the scenic re"ion in northwest =n"land, the
'ake 6istrict. 5is sister, the poet and diarist 6orothy Wordsworth, to whom he was close all his life, was born the
followin" year, and the two were baptised to"ether. &hey had three other siblin"sJ Fichard, the eldest, who became
a lawyer$ 1ohn, born after 6orothy, who went to sea and died in 1C05 when the ship of which he was 0aster, the
=arl of 3ber"avenny, was wrecked off the so#th coast of =n"land$ and )hristopher, the yo#n"est, who entered the
)h#rch and rose to be 0aster of &rinity )olle"e, )ambrid"e.
,!
&heir father was a le"al representative of 1ames
'owther, 1st =arl of 'onsdale and, thro#"h his connections, lived in a lar"e mansion in the small town.
Wordsworth, as with his siblin"s, had little involvement with their father, and they wo#ld be distant from him #ntil
his death in 1BC-.
-!
Wordsworth's father, altho#"h rarely present, did teach him poetry, incl#din" that of 0ilton, Shakespeare and
Spenser, in addition to allowin" his son to rely on his own father's library. 3lon" with spendin" time readin" in
)ockermo#th, Wordsworth wo#ld also stay at his mother's parents ho#se in (enrith, )#mberland. 3t (enrith,
Wordsworth was e%posed to the moors. Wordsworth co#ld not "et alon" with his "randparents and his #ncle, and
his hostile interactions with them distressed him to the point of contemplatin" s#icide.
2!
3fter the death of their mother, in 1BBC, 1ohn Wordsworth sent William to 5awkshead Mrammar School in
'ancashire and 6orothy to live with relatives in Horkshire$ she and William wo#ld not meet a"ain for another nine
years. 3ltho#"h 5awkshead was Wordsworth's first serio#s e%perience with ed#cation, he had been ta#"ht to read
by his mother and had attended a tiny school of low :#ality in )ockermo#th. 3fter the )ockermo#th school, he
was sent to a school in (enrith for the children of #pper+class families and ta#"ht by 3nn 9irkett, a woman who
insisted on instillin" in her st#dents traditions that incl#ded p#rs#in" both scholarly and local activities, especially
the festivals aro#nd =aster, 0ay 6ay, and Shrove &#esday. Wordsworth was ta#"ht both the 9ible and the
Spe3tator, b#t little else. It was at the school that Wordsworth was to meet the 5#tchinsons, incl#din" 0ary, who
wo#ld be his f#t#re wife.
5!
Wordsworth made his deb#t as a writer in 1BCB when he p#blished a sonnet in The E-ropean Ma'a6ine. &hat same
year he be"an attendin" St 1ohn's )olle"e, )ambrid"e, and received his 9.3. de"ree in 1B91.
D!
5e ret#rned to
5awkshead for his first two s#mmer holidays, and often spent later holidays on walkin" to#rs, visitin" places
famo#s for the bea#ty of their landscape. In 1B90, he took a walkin" to#r of =#rope, d#rin" which he to#red the
3lps e%tensively, and visited nearby areas of @rance, Swit4erland, and Italy.
%edit& 'irst pu#lication and L$rical /allads
In his *(reface to 'yrical 9allads*, which is called the *manifesto* of =n"lish Fomantic criticism, Wordsworth
calls his poems *e%perimental.* &he year 1B9- saw Wordsworth's first p#blished poetry with the collections An
Evenin' #al and Des3riptive Set3hes% 5e received a le"acy of X900 from Faisley )alvert in 1B95 so that he
co#ld p#rs#e writin" poetry. &hat year, he met Sam#el &aylor )olerid"e in Somerset. &he two poets :#ickly
developed a close friendship. In 1B9B, Wordsworth and his sister 6orothy moved to 3lfo%ton 5o#se, Somerset,
7#st a few miles away from )olerid"e's home in <ether Stowey. &o"ether, Wordsworth and )olerid"e >with
insi"hts from 6orothy? prod#ced L4ri3al $allads >1B9C?, an important work in the =n"lish Fomantic movement.
&he vol#me "ave neither Wordsworth's nor )olerid"e's name as a#thor. ;ne of Wordsworth's most famo#s poems,
*&intern 3bbey*, was p#blished in the work, alon" with )olerid"e's *&he Fime of the 3ncient 0ariner*. &he
second edition, p#blished in 1C00, had only Wordsworth listed as the a#thor, and incl#ded a preface to the poems,
which was a#"mented si"nificantly in the 1C0, edition. &his (reface to L4ri3al $allads is considered a central
work of Fomantic literary theory. In it, Wordsworth disc#sses what he sees as the elements of a new type of
poetry, one based on the *real lan"#a"e of men* and which avoids the poetic diction of m#ch 1Cth+cent#ry poetry.
5ere, Wordsworth "ives his famo#s definition of poetry as *the spontaneo#s overflow of powerf#l emotions
recollected in tran:#ilityJ it takes its ori"in from emotion recollected in tran:#ility.* 3 fo#rth and final edition of
L4ri3al $allads was p#blished in 1C05.
%edit& The Prospectus
In 1C12 he p#blished The Ex3-rsion as the second part of the three+part The 5e3l-se. 5e had not completed the
first and third parts, and never wo#ld. 5e did, however, write a poetic (rospect#s to *&he Fecl#se* in which he
lays o#t the str#ct#re and intent of the poem. &he (rospect#s contains some of Wordsworth's most famo#s lines on
the relation between the h#man mind and nat#reJ
0y voice proclaims
5ow e%:#isitely the individ#al 0ind
>3nd the pro"ressive powers perhaps no less
;f the whole species? to the e%ternal World
Is fittedJ++and how e%:#isitely, too,
&heme this b#t little heard of amon" 0en,
&he e%ternal World is fitted to the 0ind.
Some modern critics
whoJ!
reco"nise a decline in his works be"innin" aro#nd the mid+1C10s. 9#t this decline was
perhaps more a chan"e in his lifestyle and beliefs, since most of the iss#es that characterise his early poetry >loss,
death, end#rance, separation and abandonment? were resolved in his writin"s. 9#t, by 1C,0, he en7oyed the
s#ccess accompanyin" a reversal in the contemporary critical opinion of his earlier works. @ollowin" the death of
his friend the painter William Mreen in 1C,-, Wordsworth mended relations with )olerid"e.
1-!
&he two were f#lly
reconciled by 1C,C, when they to#red the Fhineland to"ether.
B!
6orothy s#ffered from a severe illness in 1C,9 that
rendered her an invalid for the remainder of her life. In 1C-5, Wordsworth "ave 3nnette and )aroline the money
they needed for s#pport.
%edit& The Poet Laureate and other honours
Wordsworth received an honorary 6octor of )ivil 'aw de"ree in 1C-C from 6#rham 8niversity, and the same
hono#r from ;%ford 8niversity the ne%t year.
B!
In 1C2, the "overnment awarded him a civil list pension
amo#ntin" to X-00 a year. With the death in 1C2- of Fobert So#they, Wordsworth became the (oet 'a#reate. 5e
initially ref#sed the hono#r, sayin" he was too old, b#t accepted when (rime 0inister Fobert (eel ass#red him
*yo# shall have nothin" re:#ired of yo#* >he became the only la#reate to write no official poetry?. When his
da#"hter, 6ora, died in 1C2B, his prod#ction of poetry came to a standstill.
%edit& Ma6or "orks
L4ri3al $allads) with a 2ew Other Poems >1B9C?
o *Simon 'ee*
o *We are Seven*
o *'ines Written in =arly Sprin"*
o *=%post#lation and Feply*
o *&he &ables &#rned*
o *&he &horn*
o *'ines )omposed 3 @ew 0iles above &intern 3bbey*
L4ri3al $allads) with Other Poems >1C00?
o (reface to the 'yrical 9allads
o *Stran"e fits of passion have I known*
12!
o *She 6welt amon" the 8ntrodden Ways*
12!
o *&hree years she "rew*
12!
o *3 Sl#mber 6id my Spirit Seal*
12!
o *I travelled amon" #nknown men*
12!
o *'#cy Mray*
o *&he &wo 3pril 0ornin"s*
o *<#ttin"*
o *&he F#ined )otta"e*
o *0ichael*
o *&he Eitten 3t (lay*
Poems) in Two Vol-mes >1C0B?
o *Fesol#tion and Independence*
o *I Wandered 'onely as a )lo#d* 3lso known as *6affodils*
o *0y 5eart 'eaps 8p*
o *;deJ Intimations of Immortality*
o *;de to 6#ty*
o *&he Solitary Feaper*
o *=le"iac Stan4as*
o *)omposed #pon Westminster 9rid"e, September -, 1C0,*
o *'ondon, 1C0,*
o *&he World Is &oo 0#ch with 8s*
G-ide to the Laes >1C10?
The Ex3-rsion >1C12?
Laodamia >1C15, 1C25?
The Prel-de >1C50?
%edit& )eferences
+ /enn, 1.$ /enn, 1. 3., eds. >19,,.195C?. *Wordsworth, William*. Al-mni "anta&ri'ienses K*+ volsL >online
ed.?. )ambrid"e 8niversity (ress.
P
a

b

c

d

e

f

g

h
1! =verett, Mlenn, *William WordsworthJ 9io"raphy* Web pa"e at The Vi3torian #e& Web site,
accessed B 1an#ary ,00B
+ *&he )ornell Wordsworth )ollection*. )ornell 8niversity. Fetrieved on 1- @ebr#ary ,009.
+ Stephen Mill, William WordsworthJ 3 'ife, ;%ford 8niversity (ress, 19C9, p. 1-,+-.
+ SeeJ 5e3olle3tions of the Lae Poets.
+ 0oorman 19DC p. C
+ Eelly Mrovier, *6ream WalkerJ 3 Wordsworth 0ystery Solved*, &imes 'iterary S#pplement, 1D @ebr#ary
,00B
Samuel Ta$lor Coleridge
Samuel Ta$lor Coleridge > Ak o lr d A$ ,1 ;ctober 1BB, . ,5 1#ly 1C-2? was an =n"lish poet, Fomantic,
literary critic and philosopher who, with his friend William Wordsworth, was a fo#nder of the Fomantic
0ovement in =n"land and a member of the 'ake (oets. 5e is probably best known for his poems The 5ime of the
An3ient Mariner and (-&la (han, as well as for his ma7or prose work $io'raphia Literaria. 5is critical work,
especially on Shakespeare, was hi"hly infl#ential, and he helped introd#ce Merman idealist philosophy to =n"lish+
speakin" c#lt#re. 5e coined many familiar words and phrases, incl#din" the celebrated s#spension of disbelief. 5e
was a ma7or infl#ence, via =merson, on 3merican transcendentalism.
&hro#"ho#t his ad#lt life, )olerid"e s#ffered from cripplin" bo#ts of an%iety and depression$ it has been
spec#lated by some that he s#ffered from bipolar disorder, a condition as yet #nidentified d#rin" his lifetime.
1!

)olerid"e s#ffered from poor health that may have stemmed from a bo#t of rhe#matic fever and other childhood
illnesses. 5e was treated for these concerns with la#dan#m, which fostered a lifelon" opi#m addiction, ca#sin"
constipation which re:#ired h#miliatin" enemas
,!
.
Earl$ life
)olerid"e was born on ,1 ;ctober 1BB, in the co#ntry town of ;ttery St 0ary, 6evon, =n"land.
-!
Sam#el's
father, the Feverend 1ohn )olerid"e >1B1C.1BC1?, was a well+respected vicar of the parish and headmaster of
5enry /III's @ree Mrammar School at ;ttery. 5e had three children by his first wife. Sam#el was the yo#n"est of
ten by Feverend )olerid"e's second wife, 3nne 9owden >1B,D.1C09?.
2!
)olerid"e s#""ests that he *took no
pleas#re in boyish sports* b#t instead read *incessantly* and played by himself.
5!
3fter 1ohn )olerid"e died in
1BC1, C+year+old Sam#el was sent to )hrist's 5ospital, a charity school fo#nded in the 1Dth cent#ry in Mreyfriars,
'ondon, where he remained thro#"ho#t his childhood, st#dyin" and writin" poetry. 3t that school )olerid"e
became friends with )harles 'amb, a schoolmate, and st#died the works of /ir"il and William 'isle 9owles.
D!
In
one of a series of a#tobio"raphical letters written to &homas (oole, )olerid"e wroteJ *3t si% years old I remember
to have read $elisari-s, 5o&inson "r-soe, and Philip 1-arll . and then I fo#nd the Ara&ian Ni'hts?
Entertainments . one tale of which >the tale of a man who was compelled to seek for a p#re vir"in? made so deep
an impression on me >I had read it in the evenin" while my mother was mendin" stockin"s? that I was ha#nted by
spectres whenever I was in the dark . and I distinctly remember the an%io#s and fearf#l ea"erness with which I
#sed to watch the window in which the books lay . and whenever the s#n lay #pon them, I wo#ld sei4e it, carry it
by the wall, and bask, and read.*
5owever, )olerid"e seems to have appreciated his teacher, as he wrote in recollections of his schooldays in
$io'raphia LiterariaJ
I en7oyed the inestimable advanta"e of a very sensible, tho#"h at the same time, a very severe master ...! 3t the
same time that we were st#dyin" the Mreek &ra"ic (oets, he made #s read Shakespeare and 0ilton as lessonsJ and
they were the lessons too, which re:#ired most time and tro#ble to brin" #p, so as to escape his cens#re. I learnt
from him, that (oetry, even that of the loftiest, and, seemin"ly, that of the wildest odes, had a lo"ic of its own, as
severe as that of science$ and more diffic#lt, beca#se more s#btle, more comple%, and dependent on more, and
more f#"itive ca#ses. ...! In o#r own =n"lish compositions >at least for the last three years of o#r school
ed#cation? he showed no mercy to phrase, metaphor, or ima"e, #ns#pported by a so#nd sense, or where the same
sense mi"ht have been conveyed with e:#al force and di"nity in plainer words... In fancy I can almost hear him
now, e%claimin" ,arpJ ,arpJ L4reJ Pen and in) &o4) 4o- meanM M-se) &o4) M-seJ 4o-r N-rse?s da-'hter) 4o-
meanM Pierian sprin'J Oh a4eM the 3loister0p-mp) I s-pposeM ...! 9e this as it may, there was one c#stom of o#r
master's, which I cannot pass over in silence, beca#se I think it ... worthy of imitation. 5e wo#ld often permit o#r
theme e%ercises, ... to acc#m#late, till each lad had fo#r or five to be looked over. &hen placin" the whole n#mber
abreast on his desk, he wo#ld ask the writer, why this or that sentence mi"ht not have fo#nd as appropriate a place
#nder this or that other thesisJ and if no satisfyin" answer co#ld be ret#rned, and two fa#lts of the same kind were
fo#nd in one e%ercise, the irrevocable verdict followed, the e%ercise was torn #p, and another on the same s#b7ect
to be prod#ced, in addition to the tasks of the day.
B!
&hro#"ho#t his life, )olerid"e ideali4ed his father as pio#s and innocent, while his relationship with his mother
was more problematic.
3itation needed!
5is childhood was characteri4ed by attention seekin", which has been linked to
his dependent personality as an ad#lt.
3itation needed!
5e was rarely allowed to ret#rn home d#rin" the school term, and
this distance from his family at s#ch a t#rb#lent time proved emotionally dama"in".
3itation needed!
5e later wrote of his
loneliness at school in the poem 2rost at Midni'htJ *With #nclosed lids, already had I dreamtA;f my sweet
birthplace.*
@rom 1B91 #ntil 1B92, )olerid"e attended 1es#s )olle"e, )ambrid"e.
C!
In 1B9,, he won the 9rowne Mold 0edal
for an ode that he wrote on the slave trade.
9!
In 6ecember 1B9-, he left the colle"e and enlisted in the Foyal
6ra"oons #sin" the false name *Silas &omkyn )omberbache*,
10!
perhaps beca#se of debt or beca#se the "irl that
he loved, 0ary =vans, had re7ected him. 3fterwards, he was r#mo#red to have had a bo#t of severe depression.
3itation needed!
5is brothers arran"ed for his dischar"e a few months later #nder the reason of *insanity* and he was
readmitted to 1es#s )olle"e, tho#"h he wo#ld never receive a de"ree from )ambrid"e.
%edit& Poetr$
6espite not en7oyin" the name reco"nition or pop#lar acclaim that Wordsworth or Shelley have had, )olerid"e is
one of the most important fi"#res in =n"lish poetry. 5is poems directly and deeply infl#enced all the ma7or poets
of the a"e. 5e was known by his contemporaries as a metic#lo#s craftsman who was more ri"oro#s in his caref#l
reworkin" of his poems than any other poet, and So#they and Wordsworth were dependent on his professional
advice. 5is infl#ence on Wordsworth is partic#larly important beca#se many critics have credited )olerid"e with
the very idea of *)onversational (oetry*. &he idea of #tili4in" common, everyday lan"#a"e to e%press profo#nd
poetic ima"es and ideas for which Wordsworth became so famo#s may have ori"inated almost entirely in
)olerid"eSs mind. It is diffic#lt to ima"ine WordsworthSs "reat poems, The Ex3-rsion or The Prel-de, ever havin"
been written witho#t the direct infl#ence of )olerid"eSs ori"inality. 3s important as )olerid"e was to poetry as a
poet, he was e:#ally important to poetry as a critic. )olerid"e's philosophy of poetry, which he developed over
many years, has been deeply infl#ential in the field of literary criticism. &his infl#ence can be seen in s#ch critics
as 3.;. 'ove7oy and I.3. Fichards.
3itation needed!
%edit& Literar$ criticism
%edit& /iographia Literaria
In addition to his poetry, )olerid"e also wrote infl#ential pieces of literary criticism incl#din" $io'raphia
Literaria, a collection of his tho#"hts and opinions on literat#re which he p#blished in 1C1B. &he work delivered
both bio"raphical e%planations of the a#thor's life as well as his impressions on literat#re. &he collection also
contained an analysis of a broad ran"e of philosophical principles of literat#re ran"in" from 3ristotle to Imman#el
Eant and Schellin" and applied them to the poetry of peers s#ch as William Wordsworth.
,9!-0!
)olerid"e's
e%planation of metaphysical principles were pop#lar topics of disco#rse in academic comm#nities thro#"ho#t the
19th and ,0th cent#ries, and &.S. =liot stated that he believed that )olerid"e was *perhaps the "reatest of =n"lish
critics, and in a sense the last.* =liot s#""ests that )olerid"e displayed *nat#ral abilities* far "reater than his
contemporaries, dissectin" literat#re and applyin" philosophical principles of metaphysics in a way that bro#"ht
the s#b7ect of his criticisms away from the te%t and into a world of lo"ical analysis that mi%ed lo"ical analysis and
emotion. 5owever, =liot also critici4es )olerid"e for allowin" his emotion to play a role in the metaphysical
process, believin" that critics sho#ld not have emotions that are not provoked by the work bein" st#died.
-1!
5#"h
Eenner in ,istori3al 2i3tions, disc#sses <orman @#rman's "olerid'e) the Dama'ed Ar3han'el and s#""ests that
the term *criticism* is too often applied to $io'raphia Literaria, which both he and @#rman describe as havin"
failed to e%plain or help the reader #nderstand works of art. &o Eenner, )olerid"e's attempt to disc#ss comple%
philosophical concepts witho#t describin" the rational process behind them displays a lack of critical thinkin" that
makes the vol#me more of a bio"raphy than a work of criticism.
-,!
In 9io"raphia 'iteraria and his poetry, symbols are not merely *ob7ective correlatives* to )olerid"e, b#t
instr#ments for makin" the #niverse and personal e%perience intelli"ible and spirit#ally covalent. &o )olerid"e, the
*cin:#e spotted spider,* makin" its way #pstream *by fits and starts,* 9io"raphia 'iteraria! is not merely a
comment on the intermittent nat#re of creativity, ima"ination, or spirit#al pro"ress, b#t the 7o#rney and destination
of his life. &he spider's five le"s represent the central problem that )olerid"e lived to resolve, the conflict between
3ristotelian lo"ic and )hristian philosophy. &wo le"s of the spider represent the *me+not me* of thesis and
antithesis, the idea that a thin" cannot be itself and its opposite sim#ltaneo#sly, the basis of the clockwork
<ewtonian world view that )olerid"e re7ected. &he remainin" three le"sKe%othesis, mesothesis and synthesis or
the 5oly trinityKrepresent the idea that thin"s can diver"e witho#t bein" contradictory. &aken to"ether, the five
le"sKwith synthesis in the center, form the 5oly )ross of Famist lo"ic. &he cin:#e+spotted spider is )olerid"e's
emblem of holism, the :#est and s#bstance of )olerid"e's tho#"ht and spirit#al life.
%edit& Coleridge and the influence of the 0othic
)olerid"e wrote reviews of 3nn FadcliffeSs books and The Mad Mon, amon" others. 5e comments in his
reviewsJ *Sit#ations of torment, and ima"es of naked horror, are easily conceived$ and a writer in whose works
they abo#nd, deserves o#r "ratit#de almost e:#ally with him who sho#ld dra" #s by way of sport thro#"h a
military hospital, or force #s to sit at the dissectin"+table of a nat#ral philosopher. &o trace the nice bo#ndaries,
beyond which terror and sympathy are deserted by the pleas#rable emotions, . to reach those limits, yet never to
pass them, hic labor, hic op#s est.* and *&he horrible and the preternat#ral have #s#ally sei4ed on the pop#lar
taste, at the rise and decline of literat#re. 0ost powerf#l stim#lants, they can never be re:#ired e%cept by the
torpor of an #nawakened, or the lan"#or of an e%ha#sted, appetite... We tr#st, however, that satiety will banish
what "ood sense sho#ld have prevented$ and that, wearied with fiends, incomprehensible characters, with shrieks,
m#rders, and s#bterraneo#s d#n"eons, the p#blic will learn, by the m#ltit#de of the man#fact#rers, with how little
e%pense of tho#"ht or ima"ination this species of composition is man#fact#red.*
5owever, )olerid"e #sed these elements in poems s#ch as The 5ime of the An3ient Mariner >1B9C?, "hrista&el
and (-&la (han >p#blished in 1C1D, b#t known in man#script form before then? and certainly infl#enced other
poets and writers of the time. (oems like these both drew inspiration from and helped to inflame the cra4e for
Mothic romance. 0ary Shelley, who knew )olerid"e well, mentions The 5ime of the An3ient Mariner twice
directly in 2ranenstein, and some of the descriptions in the novel echo it indirectly. 3ltho#"h William Modwin,
her father, disa"reed with )olerid"e on some important iss#es, he respected his opinions and )olerid"e often
visited the Modwins. 0ary Shelley later recalled hidin" behind the sofa and hearin" his voice chantin" The 5ime
of the An3ient Mariner.
%edit& )eferences
1. + 1amison, Eay Fedfield. To-3hed with 2ire! Mani30Depressive Illness and the Artisti3
Temperament% @ree (ress >1992.?, ,19.,,2.
,. + 5olmes, Fichard >,011?. )olerid"eJ 6arker Feflections. 'ondonJ 5arper)ollins. pp. 1,+12,
:#otin" )olerid"e *<otebooks* ,C05. IS9< 9BC000B-BCC,1.
-. + Fadley, 1-
2. + 1ames Millman >,00C? The Life of Sam-el Ta4lor "olerid'e. 9astion 9ooks
5. + )olerid"e,Sam#el &aylor, 1oseph <oel (aton, Eatharine 'ee 9ates."olerid'e?s An3ient Mariner
=d Eatharine 'ee 9ates. Shewell, O Sanborn >1CC9? p.,
D. + 0orley, 5enry. Ta&le Tal of Sam-el Ta4lor "olerid'e and The 5ime of the An3ient Mariner)
"hristo&el) N3% <ew HorkJ Fo#tled"e >1CC2? pp.i+iv
Coleridge as a )omantic Poet
V'yrical 9alladsW p#blished in 1B9C is a 7oint vent#re of Wordsworth and )olerid"e which is a key to #nderstand
all the poetry of the Fomantic 3"e incl#din" that of )olerid"e.
&his 7oint advent#re was taken by Wordsworth and )olerid"e to find o#t a balance between the two e%tremes$ the
tendency to realism and the tendency to romance in their e%treme forms. &hese two poets felt that =n"lish poetry
needed first that romance sho#ld be saved and ennobled by the presence and the power of tr#th+tr#th moral and
psycholo"ical, and secondly that nat#ralism >realism? witho#t losin" any of its fidelity to fact, sho#ld be saved and
ennobled by the presence and power of ima"ination Y the li"ht that never was, on sea or land.
In this respect both the poets a"reed to present two different kinds of poems. )olerid"e chose s#ch series of poems
in which the incidents and a"ents were to be, in part at s#pernat#ral, and the e%cellence aimed at was to consist in
the interest of affections by the dramatic tr#th of s#ch emotions, as wo#ld nat#rall accompany s#ch sit#ations,
s#pposin" them real. @or the second kinds of poems that were mainly to be presented by Wordsworth were s#ch
poems in which the s#b7ects were to be chosen from ordinary life. &he characters and the incidents were to be s#ch
as will be fo#nd in every villa"e and vicinity where there is a meditative and feelin" mind to seek after them, or to
notice them when they present themselves. In this idea ori"inated the plan of the T'yrical 9alladaS. In this plan it
was a"reed that )olerid"eSs endeavors sho#ld be directed to persons and charaters s#pernat#ral or at least
romantic. 5owever, s#ch s#pernat#ral element sho#ld not be void of h#man interest and inward nat#re of man. It
m#st contain the semblance of tr#th s#fficient to proc#re of these shadows ima"ination that willin" s#spension of
disbelief for the moment which constit#te poetic faith. Wordswoth, on the other hand was to propose to himself as
his ob7ect, to "ive charm of novelty to thin"s of everyday, and to e%cite a feelin" similar to the s#pernat#ral by
awakenin" the mindSs 7attention from the lethar"y of c#stom, and directin" it to the loveliness and the wonders of
the world before #s. of c#stom, and directin" it to the loveliness and the wonders of the world before #s.
In the li"ht of the above plan of both the poets, and in the li"ht of )olerid"eSs poetry itself, we find the followin"
chief characteristics in )olerid"eSs poetry. &hese characteristics are$ s#pernat#ralism, element of mystery, fertile
ima"ination, dream :#ality, medievalism, love of <at#re, meditative note, h#manitarianism, m#sic and narrative
skill which distin"#ish )olerid"eSs poetry as the most complete representative of the =n"lish Fomantic poetry of
the early nineteenth cent#ry.
'et #s take these characteristics of )olerid"e poetry one by oneJ
S#pernat#ralismJ S#pernat#ralism is somethin" that is above and beyond what is nat#ral$ events which cannot be
directly e%plained by known laws and observations. =%ploration of the occ#lt >s#pposedly s#pernat#ral or ma"ic?
and of infinity, mysticism, and n#merolo"y >st#dy of the s#pposed infl#ence of n#mber? are some other
manifestation of the intense desire of man to know what e%ists or lies beyond the finite mind. Ima"inative and
inventive fiction and poetry have been created #pon this appeal. &his element of s#pernat#ralism is fo#nd in the
three ma7or works of )olerid"e, T&he 3ncient 0arinerS, TE#bla EhanS and T)hristabelW. &he o#tstandin" :#ality of
)olerid"eSs s#pernat#ralism, however, is that his writin"s do not e%cite oneSs senses to a feverish pitch and do not
remain remote from h#man reality. 5e is capable of creatin" the still, sad m#sic of h#manity. In his
s#pernat#ralism we do not find any kind of cr#deness as is fo#nd in other poets 5orace and 0onk 'ewis. 5e
replaced the cr#deness with s#""estiveness. 5e did not portray horror, he s#""ested it. 9oth in the cases of the
<i"ht+mare 'ife+in+6eath and the serpent woman Meraldine, he resists the temptation of depictin" their hideo#s
monstrosity. 5e conveys the "r#esomeness >horrification? of 'ife+in+6eath in a few s#""estive lines.
5er lips were red, her looks were free
5er locks were yellow as "old
5er skin was white as leprosy
&he <i"ht+mare 'ife+in+6eath was she
Who thicks 0anSs blood with cold.
;r thro#"h the 0arinerSs response to her
@ear at my heart, as at a c#p
0y life+blood seemed to sip.
In the same manner the rep#lsiveness >#npleasantness? of MeraldineSs #"ly bosom is conveyed thro#"h a clever
s#""estion,
3 si"ht to dream of, not to tellI
; shield herI Shield sweet )hristabelI
)olerid"e has s#ccessf#lly kept the reality of s#pernat#ral phenomena by avoidin" the descriptions of details. 5e
deepens his effect by mystery s#rro#ndin" it. 3lon" with this )olerid"eSs s#pernat#ralism has essentially
psycholo"ical tr#th in it. &he s#pernat#ral to#ches in TE#bla EhanS or T&he 3ncient 0arinerS are so mana"ed that
they are in perfect harmony with the mental and emotional mo#lds of the characters as well as the readers. &he
ancestral voices heard by E#bla Ehan prophesy war. &he poet in his poetic fren4y is capable of b#ildin"
s#pernat#ral awe in the minds of the readers when the people comin" see his castle see his flashin" eyes and
wavin" hair and draw a circle aro#nd him thrice to keep them safe from this man who has been fed on honey and
dew and drank the milk of paradise. &he s#pernat#ral drama of the T&he 3ncient 0arinerS catches hold of the
readersS s#b+conscio#s mind. &his is, however, noteworthy that )olerid"e like 5omer and Shakespeare makes the
element of s#pernat#ralism the part of a wider scheme which is intimately related to livin" h#man e%perience. &he
central idea of the need of h#man love and compassion with man, bird and beast and the entire creation of Mod
and the painf#l e%perience ca#sed by their absence is so intensely h#man that even the s#pernat#ral character of
the events cannot beclo#d its tr#thf#lness.
=lement of 0ystery or 0ysterio#sness$ 0ysterio#sness is that condition in which some character, event or
sit#ation remains hidden and is not revealed to the #s#al vision or common #nderstandin". It is not completely
known b#t makes its presence feel to the people. )olerid"e possesses an #n#s#al "ift of evokin" the mystery of
thin"s. &he 3ncient 0ariner is made a mysterio#s character 7#st by the mention of the "litterin" eyes lon" "rey
beard and skinny hands. MeraldineSs s#dden appearance in an #ne%pected circ#mstance makes her mysterio#s. 5er
bein" bea#tif#l e%ceedin"ly also makes her mysterio#s. 9#t )olerid"e #ses this fac#lty most effectively by
keepin" alive the ordinary nat#ral phenomena in tact. &he blowin" of the winds and the twinklin" of stars ass#me
a mysterio#s character. 0ast+hi"h ice sendin" a dismal sheen and makin" crackin" and "rowlin" so#nd is bo#nd to
appear mysterio#s. Similarly mysterio#s is fo#nd in the death fires dancin" in red and ro#t and water b#rnin"
"reen, bl#e and white like a witchSs oils. &he romantic chasm in TE#bla EhanS is "iven a to#ch of mystery by the
mention of the Twoman wailin" for her demon love.S
@ertile and Fich ima"ination
Ima"ination is a mental fac#lty of framin" ima"es of e%ternal ob7ects which are not present to the five senses. It is
a process of #sin" all the fac#lties so as to reali4e with intensity what is not perceived, and to do this in a way that
inte"rates and orders every thin" present to the mind so that reality is enhanced thereby. )olerid"e in his
T9io"raphia 'iterariaS writes of ima"ination th#s$ T&he power reveals itself in the balance or reconcilement of
opposite and discordant :#alities of sameness, with the differences of the "eneral$ with the concrete$ the idea with
the ima"e$ the individ#al with the representative$ the sense of novelty and freshness with old familiar ob7ects$ a
more than #s#al state of emotion with more than #s#al order. We see that )olerid"eSs ima"ination has all these
:#alities to a s#perb order.
)olerid"e is "ifted with the most fertile and vi"oro#s ima"ination amon" all the Fomantic (oets. It is by this rich
and fertile ima"ination that he is able to create his perple%in" mystery. In this respect he "oes ahead of
Wordsworth who was too conscientio#s to describe or present those thin"s that were not seen personally by him.
)olerid"e, on the other hand, was able to describe and present those thin"s which he came across d#rin" his vast
st#dy thro#"h his fac#lty of ima"ination. 5e had the fac#lty of presentin" s#ch #nseen and ine%perienced thin"s so
vividly as if those had been literally present before his eyes. 5e presents the place of E#bla EhanSs palace as he
was practically present there,There E#bla Ehan commanded a palace to be b#ilt and a stately "arden there #nto.
3nd th#s ten miles of fertile "ro#nd was enclosed with a wall,S set ima"ination on fire and we can have vivid
pict#re of E#bla EhanSs stately pleas#re dome. 3ccordin" to the "reat Mreek critic 'on"in#s, a "reat writer is that
one who has the capability of transportin" the reader to his own ima"inative world. )olerid"e, no do#bt, was
bestowed with this :#ality. <ot only this, he had the rare skill to create an ima"inary world, chan"ed it into
ima"inative and then transformed it to a make+belief condition. &he world created by )olerid"e in his whole poem
of T&he 3ncient 0arinerS is the best e%ample of this fac#lty of )olerid"e. 1.'. 'owesS book T&he Foad to Zanad#S
amply ill#strates how )olerid"eSs ima"ination co#ld transform simple facts collected d#rin" his readin" into
somethin" mysterio#s and wonderf#l.
6ream N#alityJ 6ream :#ality is a :#ality of ima"inin" while asleep. It is a process of or a se:#ence of ima"es
that appear invol#ntarily to the mind of a sleepin" person, often a mi%t#re of real and ima"inary characters, places
and events. &he ma7or poems of )olerid"e have a stran"e dream like atmosphere abo#t them. 6reams with him are
no shadows. &hey are the very s#bstance of his life. 5e fed on his dreams and vitali4ed him in his poems. TE#bla
EhanS is essentially a dream poem reco#ntin" in a poetic form what he saw in a vision. T&he 3ncient 0arinerS
displays a dream+ like movement. ).0 9owra in the TFomantic Ima"inationS ill#strates the affinity of T&he ancient
0arinerS with a dream. T;n the s#rface it shows many :#alities of a dream,S he says. TIt moves in abr#pt sta"es
each of which has its own sin"le dominatin" character. Its vis#al impressions are remarkably brilliant and
absorbin". Its emotional impacts chan"e rapidly b#t always come with #n#s#al force as if the poet were h#nted
and obsessed by them. When it is all over, to clin" to the memory with a pec#liar tenacity >tendin" to stick
firmly?7#st as on wakin" it is diffic#lt at first to disentan"le >"et freed? ordinary e%perience from infl#ences which
still s#rvive from sleep.S &he dramatic te%t#re >str#ct#re? of )olerid"eSs poems "ives them a kind of twili"ht
va"#eness intensifyin" their mystery.
0edievalismJ 0edievalism means devotion to the 0iddle 3"es, a devotion to the spirit of beliefs of the 0iddle
3"es. )olerid"eSs love for s#pernat#ral led him to the e%ploration of 0iddle 3"es. 5e was fascinated by the
romance and le"ends associated with them. T&he 3ncient 0arinerS T)hristableS and TE#bla EhanS are all wro#"ht
with the "lamo#rs of 0iddle 3"es. 9#t it sho#ld be kept in mind that 0edievalism does not form the s#bstance of
his poems. It "ives them the m#ch needed sense of remoteness and offers a fit settin" for the marvelo#s which is
)olerid"eSs p#rpose to hint at or openly display.
'ove of <at#reJ <at#re means a physical world incl#din" all nat#ral phenomena and livin" thin"s. It also means a
force that is represented before man in the form of bea#tif#l scenes. Wordsworth is stated to be comm#nicatin"
new order of e%perience for which <at#re serves #s a point of depart#re and there was not s#ch an e%perience in
=n"lish poetry before his time. )olerid"e shows for <at#re the same lovin" devotion as we find in Wordsworth.
9#t 9owra ri"htly points o#t that his eye for <at#re is for its more charms and less obvio#s appeals and he takes
richer and more l#%#rio#s pleas#re in those aspects of <at#re that can present a dramatic and mysterio#s look.
Whether his descriptions are based on his personal e%periences or on what he has read, he never fails to "ive them
a semblance of tr#th. &he ber"s aro#nd the skiff or the sin"le s#dden stride of a tropical ni"ht are scenes that he
co#ld not have seen, b#t they look a lively and realistic as the fire wild torrents act#ally seen by him r#shin" down
the sides of the hoary, ma7estic sky. 5e can evoke the richness of colo#r as well as the ma"ical associations of
so#nd m#ch better than any other poet. 3nd he is e:#ally s#ccessf#l both in "ivin" "raphic descriptions and in
achievin" broad "enerali4ed effects. In his earlier attit#de towards <at#re, he had a pantheistic view and also
accepts it as a moral teacher, b#t later he comes to believe that it is we who invest <at#re with life and it simply
reflects o#r own moods. &his later sta"e of his attit#de towards <at#re is the sta"e when he says in T6e7ectionJ 3n
;de.S
; 'adyI We receive b#t what we "ive,
3nd in o#r life alone doth <at#re live
;#rs is her weddin" "arment, o#rs her shro#dI
0editative <oteJ 0editative thinkin" is the res#lt of reflective and spec#lative temper. It is a philosophic bent of
mind. )olerid"e was amply "ifted with this :#ality. &his tendency of mind was present even in his early a"e which
made him to do serio#s readin". 5e was specially impressed by the Merman philosophers Eant and Schiller.
T6e7ectionJ 3n ;deS is also written in a meditative mood in which he deplores the loss of ima"inative power
beca#se of the metaphysical strain in his thinkin". &he verses in T&he Fime of the 3ncient 0arinerS >which also
hint at the theme of the poem? clearly reflects his meditative mind when he says$
T5e prayth well, who loveth well
9oth man and bird and beast.S
5e prayth best, who loveth best
3ll thin"s both "reat and small
@or the dear Mod who loveth #s
5e made and loveth all.$
5#manitarianismJ 5#manitarianism means the love of h#manity and a commitment to improvin" the lives of
others. We find h#manitarianism in )olerid"eSs poetry. 9oth he and Wordsworth stron"ly s#pported the @rench
Fevol#tion in the hope that it wo#ld free the masses from the tyranny of the dictators. 9#t they were miserably
disappointed in their hope. When )olerid"e discovered that the revol#tionists were pervertin" or violatin" the very
principles they had stood for, he did not hesitate to deno#nce them in his, $@ranchJ3n ;deS. 5is love of h#manity
is e%pressed in different poems and also in the moral of T&he 3ncient 0arinerS when he says
T5e prayth well who loveth well
9oth man and bird and beastS
0#sicJ 0#sic is the art of arran"in" so#nds, the art of arran"in" or makin" so#nd, #s#ally those of m#sical
instr#ments or voices, in "ro#ps and patterns that create a pleasin" or stim#latin" effect. It can be presented in the
written form indicatin" pitch, d#ration, rhythm, and tone of notes to be played. T)olerid"e is always a sin"erS, says
5.6. &raill. )o#rt 5ope also a"rees that there is a tendency to appro%imate the art of poetry to the art of m#sic.
)olerid"eSs m#sical "eni#s can best be seen in s#ch poems as T&he 3ncient 0arinerS, T)hristableS, TE#bla EhanS
and THo#th and 3"eS. T&he 3ncient 0arinerS has woven c#nnin" so#nd patterns with the help of internal rhyme or
of clever #se of alliteration
&he ice was here, the ice was there
&he ice was all aro#nd
It cracked and "rowled, and roared and howled
'ike noises in the swo#ndI
&he internal rhyme and the alliterative effect in the followin" lines is note worthy
T&he fair bree4e blew, the white foam flew
&he f#rrow followed free
We were the first that ever b#rst
Into that silent sea.S
&he m#sical :#ality in T)hristableS and TE#bla EhanS p#ts the reader into a hypnotic spell.
<arrative skill
<arrative skill is the art of tellin" a story or "ivin" an acco#nt of a se:#ence of events in the order in which they
happened. )olerid"e is s#perb in the art of story tellin". 5e knows how to create s#spense or to evoke interest in
the narrative. In T&he 3ncient 0arinerS he invests the 0ariner with a hypnotic power in order to raise o#r c#riosity
in his story. 3nd he introd#ces his events very dramatically. 9y brin"in" the specter .ship "rad#ally closer to view,
a h#sh of e%pectancy is created before death and 'ife+in+6eath are dramatically bro#"ht on the scene to determine
the fate of the 0ariner. &he droppin" down of his two h#ndred sailor companions one by one after the killin" of
3lbatross and their so#ls "oin" o#t makin" a whi4 so#nd of the cross bow prod#ces a very dramatic effect. &he
weddin" "#estSs interr#ptions are #sed to hi"h li"ht the climatic moments. 3ll these devices "ive the poem an
incomparable narrative bea#ty.
&he above are the characteristics that distin"#ish )olerid"e from other romantic poets and make him the most
complete representative of the =n"lish Fomantic poetry of the early nineteenth cent#ry.
Wordsworth and Coleridge:
Emotion, Imagination and Complexity
The 19
th
century was heralded by a major shift in the conception and emphasis of literary art and,
specifically, poetry. During the 18
th
century the catchphrase of literature and art was reason. Logic and
rationality took precedence in any form of written epression. !deas of "alidity and aesthetic beauty
were centered around concepts such as the collecti"e #we# and the eradication of passion in human
beha"ior. !n 1$98 all of those ideas about literature were challenged by the publication of Lyrical
Ballads, which featured the poetry of %illiam %ordsworth and &amuel Taylor 'oleridge. %ordsworth
and 'oleridge both had strong, and sometimes conflicting, opinions about what constituted well(written
poetry. Their ideas were centered around the origins of poetry in the poet and the role of poetry in the
world, and these theoretical concepts led to the creation of poetry that is sufficiently comple to support
a wide "ariety of critical readings in a modern contet.
%ordsworth wrote a preface to Lyrical Ballads in which he puts forth his ideas about poetry. )is
conception of poetry hinges on three major premises. %ordsworth asserts that poetry is the language of
the common man*
To this knowledge which all men carry about with them, and to these sympathies in which without any
other discipline than that of our daily life we are fitted to take delight, the poet principally directs his
attention. +1,9-
.oetry should be understandable to anybody li"ing in the world. %ordsworth eschews the use of lofty,
poetic diction, which in his mind is not related to the language of real life. )e sees poetry as acting like
/ature, which touches all li"ing things and inspires and delights them. %ordsworth calls for poetry to be
written in the language of the #common man,# and the subjects of the poems should also be accessible
to all indi"iduals regardless of class or position. %ordsworth also makes the points that #poetry is the
spontaneous o"erflow of powerful feelings* it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tran0uility#
+111-. These two points form the basis for %ordsworth2s eplanation of the process of writing poetry.
3irst, some eperience triggers a transcendent moment, an instance of the sublime. The senses are
o"erwhelmed by this eperience4 the #spontaneous o"erflow of powerful feelings# lea"es an indi"idual
incapable of articulating the true nature and beauty of the e"ent. !t is only when this emotion is
#recollected in tran0uility# that the poet can assemble words to do the instance justice. !t is necessary
for the poet to ha"e a certain personal distance from the e"ent or eperience being described that he
can compose a poem that con"eys to the reader the same eperience of sublimity. %ith this distance
the poet can reconstruct the #spontaneous o"erflow of powerful feelings# the eperience caused within
himself.
%ordsworth2s critical ideas are manifested in his writing. )e uses the language and subjects of the
common man to con"ey his ideas. 5s he writes in #The Tables Turned,# #6ne impulse from a "ernal
wood 7 8ay teach you more of man, 7 6f moral e"il and of good, 7 than all the sages can# +19:-. These
lines show that %ordsworth places little stock in the benefit of education or institutionali;ed wisdom. )e
implies that any person with eposure to /ature can learn the secrets of the world, regardless of social
or economic considerations. !n #! wandered lonely as a cloud,# %ordsworth uses the sonnet form to
epress his ideas about poetry being the spontaneous o"erflow of emotion recollected in tran0uility*
3or oft when on my couch ! lie
!n "acant or in pensi"e mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
%hich is the bliss of solitude4
5nd then my heart with pleasure fills,
5nd dances with the daffodils. +18$-
This stan;a comes after %ordsworth has described eperiencing in the natural world the wonderment
that the night creates. !n the poem he meditates on the stars and the light bouncing off wa"es on the
water. )e is unable to truly comprehend the beauty and importance of the eperience until he is resting
afterward, and he is able to reconstruct the e"ent in his mind. This remembrance brings him a wa"e of
emotion, and it is out of this second flood of feeling that the poem is born. !n %ordsworth2s poetry, these
ebbs of emotion are spurred on by his interaction with /ature. !n #Tintern 5bbey# he writes that #/ature
ne"er did betray 7 the heart that lo"ed her# +199-. !ndeed, %ordsworth is continually inspired and led into
transcendent moments by his eperiences in /ature. These eperiences bring to his mind a wide
"ariety of contemplations and considerations that can only be epressed, as he writes in #<postulation
and =eply,# in #a wise passi"eness# +191-.
%hile %ordsworth2s critical ideas ob"iously worked for his poetry, 'oleridge differed in his take on the
art. 'oleridge did not agree that poetry is the language of the common man. )e thought that lowering
diction and content simply made it so that the poet had a smaller "ocabulary of both words and
concepts to draw from. 'oleridge focused mainly on imagination as the key to poetry. )e di"ided
imagination into two main components* primary and secondary imagination. !n Biographia Literaria, one
of his significant theoretical works, he writes*
The primary imagination ! hold to be the li"ing power and prime agent of all human perception, and as a
repetition in the finite of the eternal act of creation of the infinite ! 58. The secondary ! consider as an
echo of the former, coeisting with the conscious will, yet still identical with the primary in the kind of its
agency, and differing only in degree, and in the mode of its operation. +98$-
!t is the imagination in"ol"ed in the poetry that produces a higher 0uality "erse. The primary imagination
is a spontaneous creation of new ideas, and they are epressed perfectly. The secondary imagination is
mitigated by the conscious act of imagination4 therefore, it is hindered by not only imperfect creation, but
also by imperfect epression. To further subdi"ide the act of imagination, 'oleridge introduces his
concept of fancy. 3ancy is the lowest form of imagination because it #has no other counters to play with
but fiities and definites# +98$-. %ith fancy there is no creation in"ol"ed4 it is simply a reconfiguration of
eisting ideas. =ather than composing a completely original concept or description, the fanciful poet
simply reorders concepts, putting them in a new and, possibly, fresh relationship to each other.
'oleridge also writes that poetry #re"eals itself in the balance or reconciliation of opposite or discordant
0ualities# +991-. Through jutaposition ideas, concepts, and descriptions are made clear. The more
imaginati"e the jutaposition is, the more eciting the poem becomes.
5s with %ordsworth, 'oleridge also combines his theoretical ideas in his poetry. )e abandons
%ordsworth2s notion of poetry for the common man, and uses lofty language, poetic diction, and subject
matter that is speciali;ed. %hile he still holds a re"erence for /ature inherent to romantic literature, his
poems are not eclusi"ely based around the natural. )e makes use of primary imagination in his work,
because it is the kind of imagination he "alues most, and a"oids secondary imagination or fancy as
much as possible. #>ubla >ahn# illustrates his use of primary imagination*
!n ?anadu did >ubla >ahn
5 stately pleasure dome decree*
%here 5lph, the sacred ri"er, ran
Through ca"erns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea. +9,$-
The poem is the manifestation of a drug(induced "ision. The lines ha"e come to 'oleridge unbidden,
and represents the creation of a pre"iously noneistent setting. )e creates these instances throughout
the poem. <specially notable is the "ision he describes in the last stan;a, #5 damsel with a dulcimer 7 !n
a "ision ! once saw* 7 !t was an 5byssinian maid, 7 5nd on her dulcimer she played# +9,8-. @oth of these
segments create entirely new scenes in the reader2s mind. 'oleridge also uses highly imaginati"e
images to create jutaposition in the poem. )e writes, #5 sunny pleasure dome with ca"es of iceA# +9,8-,
and uses this image twice in the poem. The #reconciliation of opposites# manifests itself in lines such as
these. The adjecti"e #sunny# implies warmth, while #ice# is cold. Together they hint at a darker side to
the surfacially idyllic pleasure dome. The simple fact that it is >ubla >ahn2s pleasure dome is a
jutaposition as well. The leader of the 8ongols is not collo0uially thought of as a kind or bene"olent
man. This discordance, too, hints at the underlying darkness of the poem, thereby eposing a truth that
all is not perfect in neither the pleasure dome nor 'oleridge2s hallucination.
'oleridge and %ordsworth "alued artful poetry. 5lthough they had some different theoretical opinions,
both of them succeeded at making poetry that is comple and dense enough to withstand two centuries
of analysis, and modern critical practice has not yet fully distilled the potential meaning to be found in
their work. !t is easy to see how their work places them firmly in the realm of the =omantics, but it is
0uite difficult to come up with a single form of modern criticism that can fully deal with these two poets.
8imetic forms of criticism, including contemporary .latonists and 5ristotelians, could offer obser"ations
about how the poetry of %ordsworth seeks to imitate /ature and the effects of /ature on the indi"idual.
)e works to reconstruct an eperience for the reader. Likewise, these same critics could say that
'oleridge2s imitation of human beings in poems like #'hristabel# and #The =ime of the 5ncient 8ariner#
teaches us something about human nature and beha"ior. Bnfortunately, purely mimetic criticism would
miss much of the rhetorical de"ices and aesthetic 0ualities embedded in the work. .ragmatic forms of
criticism, which focus on the rhetorical purpose of the author, could offer insight as to how the poetry of
'oleridge and %ordsworth seek to instruct the reader, and could also elucidate the rhetorical structure
of their works. @oth of the poets seek to reinforce the indi"idual, the glory and "alue of /ature, and
induce re"elations in their readers. 5lso, as with all of the =omantics, 'oleridge and %ordsworth are
constantly seeking the sublime. This period follows the redisco"ery of Longinus2 ideas about the
sublime, which describe how rhetorical structure is used to gain the same feeling of transcendence as
/ature promotes. The work of 'oleridge and %ordsworth is also rhetorically constructed to epress
their critical theories, which a pragmatic reading of the tet would pick up. The epressi"e forms of
criticism could offer "aluable insights into the poems of 'oleridge and %ordsworth by focusing on the
tets as products of the poets. 'ertainly forms of psychoanalytical criticism would ha"e much to say
about %ordsworth2s constant o"erflow of emotion and 'oleridge2s chemically altered imagination.
6bjecti"e critics like the /ew 'ritics and formalists could shed light on the synergy created by the
interaction of the "arious parts of 'oleridge and %ordsworth2s poems. !n Biographia Literaria, 'oleridge
wrote that a poem must be a cohesi"e unit, with e"ery part working together to build into a whole +99C-.
@oth poets pay close attention to form and diction in their work, and create poems that are independent
units of thought. <specially the work of %ordsworth seems to precipitate 8arist criticism, which could
pro"ide insight about the elements of class in his poems, and could also discuss the connection
between form and content in the poetry. .ostmodern critics would especially enjoy looking at the fierce
indi"iduality of 'oleridge and %ordsworth, who each create their own micronarrati"e of the world while
rejecting the metanarrati"es of their time.
The compleity of %ordsworth and 'oleridge2s theoretical ideas leads to the compleity of their poetry.
!t is impossible to name one form of criticism that could sum them up entirely, because ultimately they
are working with a large number of weighty concepts. This is why their poetry is still read and analy;ed.
&ince 5ristotle claimed in his Poetics that the compleity of a work is directly proportional to the
greatness of the work, we ha"e sought out literature that withstands multiple intense readings. @ecause
we can look at the poems of 'oleridge and %ordsworth in a large "ariety of ways, we are constantly
finding new meaning, which gi"es the poetry a re(readability not found in lesser work. =e(readability is
the hallmark of good literature and of the sublime. 'oleridge and %ordsworth knew this, and they wrote
toward that goal.
T7 S7 Eliot
Thomas Stearns Eliot ;0 >September ,D, 1CCC . 1an#ary 2, 19D5? was a playwri"ht, literary critic, and an
important =n"lish+lan"#a"e poet of the ,0th cent#ry.
-!
3ltho#"h he was born an 3merican, he moved to the
8nited Ein"dom in 1912 >at a"e ,5? and was nat#ralised as a 9ritish s#b7ect in 19,B at a"e -9.
&he poem that made his name, The Love Son' of I% Alfred Pr-fro3Kstarted in 1910 and p#blished in )hica"o in
1915Kis seen as a masterpiece of the modernist movement, and was followed by some of the best+known poems
in the =n"lish lan"#a"e, incl#din" Gerontion >19,0?, The #aste Land >19,,?, The ,ollow Men >19,5?, Ash
#ednesda4 >19-0?, and 2o-r 1-artets >1925?.
2!
5e is also known for his seven plays, partic#larly M-rder in the
"athedral >19-5?. 5e was awarded the <obel (ri4e in 'iterat#re in 192C.
5!
9orn in St. 'o#is, 0isso#ri, and ed#cated at 5arvard, =liot st#died philosophy at the Sorbonne for a year, then in
1912 won a scholarship to 0erton )olle"e, ;%ford, becomin" a 9ritish citi4en in 19,B when he was -9. 5e said
of his poetry and the effect on it of his nationalityJ *It wo#ldn't be what it is, and I ima"ine it wo#ldn't be so
"ood ... if I'd been born in =n"land, and it wo#ldn't be what it is if I'd stayed in 3merica. It's a combination of
thin"s. 9#t in its so#rces, in its emotional sprin"s, it comes from 3merica.*
D!
Life
%edit& Earl$ life and education
=liot was born into the =liot family, a middle class family ori"inally from <ew =n"land, who had moved to St.
'o#is, 0isso#ri.
B!2!
5is father, 5enry Ware =liot >1C2-.1919?, was a s#ccessf#l b#sinessman, president and
treas#rer of the 5ydra#lic+(ress 9rick )ompany in St. 'o#is. 5is mother, )harlotte )hampe Stearns >1C2-.19,9?,
wrote poetry and was a social worker, a new profession in the early twentieth cent#ry. =liot was the last of si%
s#rvivin" children$ his parents were both 22 years old when he was born. 5is fo#r sisters were between eleven and
nineteen years older$ his brother was ei"ht years older. Enown to family and friends as &om, he was the namesake
of his maternal "randfather &homas Stearns.
Several factors are responsible for =liot's infat#ation with literat#re d#rin" his childhood. @irst, =liot had to
overcome physical limitations as a child. Str#""lin" from a con"enital do#ble hernia, a condition in which oneSs
intestines 7#t thro#"h the bowel wall and ca#ses an abdominal r#pt#re, =liot was #nable to participate in many
physical activities and th#s was prevented from interactin" socially with his peers. 9eca#se =liot was often
isolated his love of literat#re developed. @or, once he learned to read, the yo#n" boy immediately became obsessed
with books and was completely absorbed in tales depictin" sava"es, the Wild West, or 0ark &wainSs thrill+seekin"
&om Sawyer.
C!
In his memoir of &.S. =liot, =liotSs close friend Fobert Senco#rt comments that yo#n" =liot Vwo#ld
often c#rl #p in the window+seat behind an enormo#s book, settin" the dr#" of dreams a"ainst the pain of
livin".W
9!
Secondly, =liot also credited his hometown with seedin" his literary visionJ *It is self+evident that St.
'o#is affected me more deeply than any other environment has ever done. I feel that there is somethin" in havin"
passed one's childhood beside the bi" river, which is incomm#nicable to those people who have not. I consider
myself fort#nate to have been born here, rather than in 9oston, or <ew Hork, or 'ondon.*
10!
&h#s, from the onset,
literat#re was an essential part of =liot's childhood and both his disability and location infl#enced him.
@rom 1C9C to 1905, =liot attended Smith 3cademy, where his st#dies incl#ded 'atin, 3ncient Mreek, @rench, and
Merman. 5e be"an to write poetry when he was fo#rteen #nder the infl#ence of =dward @it4"erald's 5-&ai4at of
Omar (ha44am, a translation of the poetry of ;mar Ehayyam. 5e said the res#lts were "loomy and despairin",
and he destroyed them.
11!
5is first poem p#blished, *3 @able @or @easters,* was written as a school e%ercise and
was p#blished in the Smith A3adem4 5e3ord in @ebr#ary 1905.
1,!
3lso p#blished there in 3pril 1905 was his oldest
s#rvivin" poem in man#script, an #ntitled lyric, later revised and reprinted as *Son"* in The ,arvard Advo3ate,
5arvard 8niversity's st#dent ma"a4ine.
1-!
5e also p#blished three short stories in 1905, *9irds of (rey,* *3 &ale of
a Whale* and *&he 0an Who Was Ein".* &he last mentioned story si"nificantly reflects his e%ploration of I"orot
/illa"e while visitin" the 1902 World's @air of St. 'o#is.
12!15!
S#ch a link with primitive people importantly
antedates his anthropolo"ical st#dies at 5arvard.
1D!
3fter "rad#ation, =liot attended 0ilton 3cademy in 0assach#setts for a preparatory year, where he met Scofield
&hayer, who wo#ld later p#blish The #aste Land. 5e st#died philosophy at 5arvard from 190D to 1909, earnin"
his bachelor's de"ree after three years, instead of the #s#al fo#r.
2!
@rank Eermode writes that the most important
moment of =liot's #nder"rad#ate career was in 190C, when he discovered 3rth#r Symons's The S4m&olist
Movement in Literat-re >1C99?. &his introd#ced him to 1#les 'afor"#e, 3rth#r Fimba#d, and (a#l /erlaine.
Witho#t /erlaine, =liot wrote, he mi"ht never have heard of &ristan )orbi[re and his book Les amo-rs 8a-nes, a
work that affected the co#rse of =liot's life.
1B!
&he ,arvard Advo3ate p#blished some of his poems, and he became
lifelon" friends with )onrad 3iken, the 3merican novelist.
3fter workin" as a philosophy assistant at 5arvard from 1909 to 1910, =liot moved to (aris, where from 1910 to
1911, he st#died philosophy at the Sorbonne. 5e attended lect#res by 5enri 9er"son and read poetry with 3lain+
@o#rnier.
2!1B!
@rom 1911 to 1912, he was back at 5arvard st#dyin" Indian philosophy and Sanskrit.
2!1C!
=liot was
awarded a scholarship to 0erton )olle"e, ;%ford in 1912. 5e first visited 0arb#r", Mermany, where he planned
to take a s#mmer pro"ram, b#t when the @irst World War broke o#t, he went to ;%ford instead. 3t the time, so
many 3merican st#dents attended 0erton that the 1#nior )ommon Foom proposed a motion *that this society
abhors the 3mericani4ation of ;%ford.* It was defeated by two votes, after =liot reminded the st#dents how m#ch
they owed 3merican c#lt#re.
19!
=liot wrote to )onrad 3iken on <ew Hear's =ve 1912J *I hate #niversity towns and #niversity people, who are the
same everywhere, with pre"nant wives, sprawlin" children, many books and hideo#s pict#res on the walls ...
;%ford is very pretty, b#t I don't like to be dead.*
19!
=scapin" ;%ford, =liot act#ally spent m#ch of his time in
'ondon. &his city had a mon#mental and life+alterin" impact on =liot for m#ltiple reasons, the most si"nificant of
which was his introd#ction to the acclaimed literary fi"#re =4ra (o#nd. 3 connection thro#"h 3iken res#lted in an
arran"ed meetin" and on September ,,, 1912, =liot paid a visit to (o#ndSs flat. (o#nd instantly deemed =liot
Vworth watchin"W and was imperative to =liotSs be"innin" career as a poet as he is credited with promotin" =liot
thro#"h social events and literary "atherin"s. &h#s, accordin" to bio"rapher 1ohn Worthen, d#rin" his time in
=n"land =liot Vwas seein" as little of ;%ford as possible. 5e was instead spendin" lon" periods of time in 'ondon,
in the company of =4ra (o#nd and *some of the modern artists whom the war has so far spared . . . . It was (o#nd
who helped most, introd#cin" him everywhere.W
,0!
In the end, =liot did not settle at 0erton, and left after a year.
9y 191D, he had completed a doctoral dissertation for 5arvard on (nowled'e and Experien3e in the Philosoph4 of
2% ,% $radle4, b#t he failed to ret#rn for the viva vo3e e%am.
,1!2!
%edit& Poetr$
@or a poet of his stat#re, =liot prod#ced a relatively small amo#nt of poetry and he was aware of this early in his
career. 5e wrote to 1.5. Woods, one of his former 5arvard professors, *0y rep#tation in 'ondon is b#ilt #pon one
small vol#me of verse, and is kept #p by printin" two or three more poems in a year. &he only thin" that matters is
that these sho#ld be perfect in their kind, so that each sho#ld be an event.*
-B!
&ypically, =liot first p#blished his poems individ#ally in periodicals or in small books or pamphlets, and then
collected them in books. 5is first collection was Pr-fro3 and Other O&servations >191B?. In 19,0, he p#blished
more poems in Ara Vos Pre3 >'ondon? and Poems! *AO+ ><ew Hork?. &hese had the same poems >in a different
order? e%cept that *;de* in the 9ritish edition was replaced with *5ysteria* in the 3merican edition. In 19,5, he
collected The #aste Land and the poems in Pr-fro3 and Poems into one vol#me and added The ,ollow Men to
form Poems! *A+A;*AO@. @rom then on, he #pdated this work as "olle3ted Poems. =%ceptions are Old Poss-m?s
$oo of Pra3ti3al "ats >19-9?, a collection of li"ht verse$ Poems #ritten in Earl4 .o-th, posth#mo#sly p#blished
in 19DB and consistin" mainly of poems p#blished between 190B and 1910 in The ,arvard Advo3ate, and
Inventions of the Mar3h ,are! Poems *A+A;*A*P, material =liot never intended to have p#blished, which
appeared posth#mo#sly in 199B.
-C!
=liot said of his nationality and its role in his workJ *0!y poetry has obvio#sly more in common with my
distin"#ished contemporaries in 3merica than with anythin" written in my "eneration in =n"land ... It wo#ldn't be
what it is, and I ima"ine it wo#ldn't be so "ood ... if I'd been born in =n"land, and it wo#ldn't be what it is if I'd
stayed in 3merica. It's a combination of thin"s. 9#t in its so#rces, in its emotional sprin"s, it comes from
3merica.*
D!
%edit& The Love Song of &' Alfred (rufroc)
0ain articleJ &he 'ove Son" of 1. 3lfred (r#frock
In 1915, =4ra (o#nd, overseas editor of Poetr4 ma"a4ine, recommended to 5arriet 0onroe, the ma"a4ine's
fo#nder, that she p#blish *&he 'ove Son" of 1. 3lfred (r#frock.* 3ltho#"h the character (r#frock seems to be
middle+a"ed, =liot wrote most of the poem when he was only twenty+two. Its now+famo#s openin" lines,
comparin" the evenin" sky to *a patient etherised #pon a table,* were considered shockin" and offensive,
especially at a time when Meor"ian (oetry was hailed for its derivations of the nineteenth cent#ry Fomantic (oets.
&he poem follows the conscio#s e%perience of a man, (r#frock >relayed in the *stream of conscio#sness* form
characteristic of the 0odernists?, lamentin" his physical and intellect#al inertia, the lost opport#nities in his life
and lack of spirit#al pro"ress, with the rec#rrent theme of carnal love #nattained. )ritical opinion is divided as to
whether the narrator leaves his residence d#rin" the co#rse of the narration. &he locations described can be
interpreted either as act#al physical e%periences, mental recollections, or as symbolic ima"es from the #nconscio#s
mind, as, for e%ample, in the refrain *In the room the women come and "o.*
&he poem's str#ct#re was heavily infl#enced by =liot's e%tensive readin" of 6ante 3li"hieri and refers to a n#mber
of literary works, incl#din" ,amlet and those of the @rench Symbolists.
Its reception in 'ondon can be "a#"ed from an #nsi"ned review in The Times Literar4 S-pplement on 1#ne ,1,
191B. *&he fact that these thin"s occ#rred to the mind of 0r. =liot is s#rely of the very smallest importance to
anyone, even to himself. &hey certainly have no relation to poetr4.*
-9!
The *aste Land
In ;ctober, 19,,, =liot p#blished The #aste Land in The "riterion. =liot's dedication to il mi'lior fa&&ro >*the
better craftsman*? refers to =4ra (o#nd's si"nificant hand in editin" and reshapin" the poem from a lon"er =liot
man#script to the shortened version that appears in p#blication.
20!
It was composed d#rin" a period of personal diffic#lty for =liotKhis marria"e was failin", and both he and
/ivienne were s#fferin" from nervo#s disorders. &he poem is often read as a representation of the disill#sionment
of the post+war "eneration. 9efore the poem's p#blication as a book in 6ecember, 19,,, =liot distanced himself
from its vision of despair. ;n <ovember 15, 19,,, he wrote to Fichard 3ldin"ton, sayin", *3s for The #aste
Land, that is a thin" of the past so far as I am concerned and I am now feelin" toward a new form and style.*
&he poem is known for its obsc#re nat#reKits slippa"e between satire and prophecy$ its abr#pt chan"es of
speaker, location, and time. 6espite this, it has become a to#chstone of modern literat#re, a poetic co#nterpart to a
novel p#blished in the same year, 1ames 1oyce's /l4sses.
3itation needed!
3mon" its best+known phrases are *3pril is the cr#ellest month,* *I will show yo# fear in a handf#l of d#st* and
*Shantih shantih shantih.* &he Sanskrit mantra ends the poem.
%edit& The +ollow en
The ,ollow Men appeared in 19,5. @or the critic =dm#nd Wilson, it marked *&he nadir of the phase of despair
and desolation "iven s#ch effective e%pression in The #aste Land.*
21!
It is =liot's ma7or poem of the late 19,0s.
Similar to other work, its themes are overlappin" and fra"mentary. (ost+war =#rope #nder the &reaty of /ersailles
>which =liot despised?, the diffic#lty of hope and reli"io#s conversion, =liot's failed marria"e.
2,!
3llen &ate perceived a shift in =liot's method, writin" that, *&he mytholo"ies disappear alto"ether in The ,ollow
Men.* &his is a strikin" claim for a poem as indebted to 6ante as anythin" else in =liotSs early work, to say little of
the modern =n"lish mytholo"yKthe *;ld M#y @awkes* of the M#npowder (lotKor the colonial and a"rarian
mythos of 1oseph )onrad and 1ames Meor"e @ra4er, which, at least for reasons of te%t#al history, echo in The
#aste Land.
2-!
&he *contin#o#s parallel between contemporaneity and anti:#ity* that is so characteristic of his
mythical method remained in fine form.
22!
The ,ollow Men contains some of =liot's most famo#s lines, notably its
concl#sionJ
This is the wa4 the world ends
Not with a &an' &-t a whimper%
%edit& Ash *ednesda,
Ash #ednesda4 is the first lon" poem written by =liot after his 19,B conversion to 3n"licanism. (#blished in
19-0, it deals with the str#""le that ens#es when one who has lacked faith ac:#ires it. Sometimes referred to as
=liot's *conversion poem,* it is richly b#t ambi"#o#sly all#sive, and deals with the aspiration to move from
spirit#al barrenness to hope for h#man salvation. &he style is different from the poetry that predates his
conversion. Ash #ednesda4 and the poems that followed had a more cas#al, melodic, and contemplative method.
3itation needed!
0any critics were partic#larly enth#siastic abo#t it. =dwin 0#ir maintained that it is one of the most movin"
poems =liot wrote, and perhaps the *most perfect,* tho#"h it was not well received by everyone. &he poem's
"ro#ndwork of orthodo% )hristianity discomfited many of the more sec#lar literati.
25!2!
%edit& -ld (ossum's .oo) of (ractical Cats
In 19-0, =liot p#blished a book of li"ht verse, Old Poss-m?s $oo of Pra3ti3al "ats >*;ld (oss#m* was =4ra
(o#nd's nickname for him?. &his first edition had an ill#stration of the a#thor on the cover. In 1952, the composer
3lan Fawsthorne set si% of the poems for speaker and orchestra, in a work entitled Pra3ti3al "ats. 3fter =liot's
death, the book was adapted as the basis of the m#sical, "ats, by 3ndrew 'loyd Webber, first prod#ced in
'ondon's West =nd in 19C1 and openin" on 9roadway the followin" year.
%edit& %our /uartets
=liot re"arded 2o-r 1-artets as his masterpiece, and it is the work that led to his bein" awarded the <obel (ri4e in
'iterat#re.
2!
It consists of fo#r lon" poems, each first p#blished separatelyJ $-rnt Norton >19-D?, East "oer
>1920?, The Dr4 Salva'es >1921? and Little Giddin' >192,?. =ach has five sections. 3ltho#"h they resist easy
characteri4ation, each be"ins with a r#mination on the "eo"raphical location of its title, and each meditates on the
nat#re of time in some important respectKtheolo"ical, historical, physicalKand its relation to the h#man
condition. =ach poem is associated with one of the fo#r classical elementsJ air, earth, water, and fire.
$-rnt Norton asks what it means to consider thin"s that mi"ht have been. We see the shell of an abandoned ho#se,
and =liot toys with the idea that all these merely possible realities are present to"ether, invisible to #s. 3ll the
possible ways people mi"ht walk across a co#rtyard add #p to a vast dance we can't see$ children who aren't there
are hidin" in the b#shes.
East "oer contin#es the e%amination of time and meanin", foc#sin" in a famo#s passa"e on the nat#re of
lan"#a"e and poetry. ;#t of darkness, =liot offers a sol#tionJ *I said to my so#l, be still, and wait witho#t hope.*
The Dr4 Salva'es treats the element of water, via ima"es of river and sea. It strives to contain oppositesJ *&he past
and f#t#reA3re con:#ered, and reconciled.*
Little Giddin' >the element of fire? is the most antholo"i4ed of the N#artets. =liot's e%periences as an air raid
warden in &he 9lit4 power the poem, and he ima"ines meetin" 6ante d#rin" the Merman bombin". &he be"innin"
of the N#artets >*5o#ses A 3re removed, destroyed*? had become a violent everyday e%perience$ this creates an
animation, where for the first time he talks of 'ove as the drivin" force behind all e%perience. @rom this
back"ro#nd, the N#artets end with an affirmation of 1#lian of <orwichJ *3ll shall be well andA3ll manner of thin"
shall be well.*
&he 2o-r 1-artets cannot be #nderstood witho#t reference to )hristian tho#"ht, traditions, and history. =liot
draws #pon the theolo"y, art, symbolism and lan"#a"e of s#ch fi"#res as 6ante, and mystics St. 1ohn of the )ross
and 1#lian of <orwich. &he *deeper comm#nion* so#"ht in East "oer, the *hints and whispers of children, the
sickness that m#st "row worse in order to find healin",* and the e%ploration which inevitably leads #s home all
point to the pil"rim's path alon" the road of sanctification.
Critical reception
%edit& )esponses to his poetr$
&he initial critical response to =liot's poetry, partic#larly *&he Waste 'and,* was mi%ed. Some critics, like
=dm#nd Wilson, )onrad 3iken, and Milbert Seldes tho#"ht it was the best poetry bein" written in the =n"lish
lan"#a"e while others tho#"ht it was esoteric and wilf#lly diffic#lt. =dm#nd Wilson, bein" one of the critics who
praised =liot, called him *one of o#r only a#thentic poets.*
5B!
<evertheless, it sho#ld be noted that Wilson also
pointed o#t some of =liot's weaknesses as a poet. In re"ard to *&he Waste 'and,* Wilson admits its flaws >*its lack
of str#ct#ral #nity*?, b#t concl#ded, *I do#bt whether there is a sin"le other poem of e:#al len"th by a
contemporary 3merican which displays so hi"h and so varied a mastery of =n"lish verse.*
5B!
;ther critics, like )harles (owell, were decidedly ne"ative in their criticism of =liot, callin" his poems
incomprehensible.
5C!
3nd the writers of Time ma"a4ine were similarly baffled by a challen"in" poem like *&he
Waste 'and.*
59!
;f co#rse, there were some critics, like 1ohn )rowe Fansom, who wrote mostly ne"ative
criticisms of =liot's work b#t who also had some positive thin"s to say. @or instance, tho#"h Fansom ne"atively
criticised *&he Waste 'and* for its *e%treme disconnection,* Fansom was not completely condemnatory of =liot's
work >like (owell? and admitted that =liot was a talented poet.
D0!
3ddressin" some of the common criticisms directed a"ainst *&he Waste 'and* at the time, Milbert Seldes stated,
*It seems at first si"ht remarkably disconnected and conf#sed . . . however! a closer view of the poem does more
than ill#minate the diffic#lties$ it reveals the hidden form of the work, and! indicates how each thin" falls into
place.*
D1!
%edit& Allegations of anti8Semitism
&he depiction of 1ews in some of =liot's poems has led several critics to acc#se him of anti+Semitism. &his case
has been presented most forcef#lly in a st#dy by 3nthony 1#li#sJ T% S% Eliot) Anti0Semitism) and Literar4 2orm
>199D?.
D,!D-!
In *Merontion,* =liot writes, in the voice of the poem's elderly narrator, *3nd the 1ew s:#ats on the
window sill, the owner of my b#ildin"! A Spawned in some estaminet of 3ntwerp.*
D2!
3nother well+known
e%ample appears in the poem, *9#rbank with a 9aedekerJ 9leistein with a )i"ar.* In this poem, =liot wrote, *&he
rats are #nderneath the piles. A &he 1ew is #nderneath the lot. A 0oney in f#rs.*
D5!
Interpretin" the line as an
indirect comparison of 1ews to rats, 1#li#s writes, *&he anti+Semitism is #nmistakable. It reaches o#t like a clear
si"nal to the reader.* 1#li#s's viewpoint has been s#pported by literary critics s#ch as )hristopher Ficks, Meor"e
Steiner, and 1ames @enton.
DD!
In a series of lect#res delivered at the 8niversity of /ir"inia in 19--, p#blished #nder the title After Stran'e Gods!
A Primer of Modern ,eres4 >19-2?, =liot wrote of societal tradition and coherence, *What is still more important
than c#lt#ral homo"eneity! is #nity of reli"io#s back"ro#nd, and reasons of race and reli"ion combine to make
any lar"e n#mber of free+thinkin" 1ews #ndesirable.*
DB!
=liot never re+p#blished this book nor the lect#re.
DD!
)rai" Faine, in his books In Defen3e of T%S% Eliot >,001? and T% S% Eliot >,00D?, has so#"ht to defend =liot from
the char"e of anti+Semitism. Feviewin" Faine's ,00D book, (a#l 6ean stated that he was not convinced by Faine's
ar"#ment tho#"h he concl#ded, *8ltimately, as both Faine and, to do him 7#stice, 1#li#s insist, however m#ch
=liot may have been compromised as a person, as we all are in o#r several ways, his "reatness as a poet
remains.*
DD!
%edit& 1orks
%edit& Poetr$
Pr-fro3 and Other O&servations >191B?
o The Love Son' of I% Alfred Pr-fro3
o Portrait of a Lad4 KpoemL
o A-nt ,elen
Poems >19,0?
o Gerontion
o Sweene4 Amon' the Ni'htin'ales
o *&he 5ippopotam#s*
o *Whispers of Immortality*
o *0r. =liot's S#nday 0ornin" Service*
o *3 )ookin" =""*
The #aste Land >19,,?
The ,ollow Men >19,5?
Ariel Poems >19,B.1952?
o The Io-rne4 of the Ma'i >19,B?
Ash #ednesda4 >19-0?
"oriolan >19-1?
Old Poss-m?s $oo of Pra3ti3al "ats >19-9?
The Mar3hin' Son' of the Polli3le Do's and $ill4 M?"aw! The 5emara&le Parrot >19-9? in The 1-een?s
$oo of the 5ed "ross
2o-r 1-artets >1925?
%edit& 'urther reading
3ckroyd, (eter. T% S% Eliot! A Life. >19C2?
3li, 3hmed. Mr% Eliot?s Penn4 #orld of Dreams! An Essa4 in the Interpretation of T%S% Eliot?s Poetr4,
(#blished for the '#cknow 8niversity by <ew 9ook )o., 9ombay, (.S. Ein" O Staples 'td., Westminster,
'ondon, 192,, pa"es 1-C.
3lldritt, Eeith. Eliot?s 2o-r 1-artets! Poetr4 as "ham&er M-si3% #o&-rn Press) *APQ%
3sher, Eenneth T% S% Eliot and Ideolo'4 >1995?
9rand, )linton 3. *&he /oice of &his )allin"J &he =nd#rin" 'e"acy of &. S. =liot,* Modern A'e /ol#me
25, <#mber 2$ @all ,00- online edition, conservative perspective
9rown, 3lec. The L4ri3al Imp-lse in Eliot?s Poetr4, Scr#tinies vol. ,.
9#sh, Fonald. T% S% Eliot! A St-d4 in "hara3ter and St4le. >19C2?
9#sh, Fonald, '&he (resence of the (astJ =thno"raphic &hinkin"A 'iterary (olitics'. In Prehistories of the
2-t-re, ed. =l4ar 9arkan and Fonald 9#sh, Stanford 8niversity (ress. >1995?.
)rawford, Fobert. The Sava'e and the "it4 in the #or of T% S% Eliot. >19CB?.\ )hristensen, Earen. *6ear
0rs. =liot,* The G-ardian 5eview% >,9 1an#ary ,005?.
6awson, 1.'., (.6. 5olland O 6.1. 0cEitterick, A "on3ordan3e to ?The "omplete Poems and Pla4s of T%S%
Eliot?% Ithaca O 'ondonJ )ornell 8niversity (ress, 1995.
@orster, =. 0. =ssay on &. S. =liot, in Life and Letters, 1#ne 19,9.
Mardner, 5elen. The "omposition of 2o-r 1-artets. >19BC?.
+++The Art of T% S% Eliot. >1929?
Mordon, 'yndall. T% S% Eliot! An Imperfe3t Life. >199C?
5ardin", W. 6. T% S% Eliot) *AO@0*AD@, Scr#tiny, September 19-DJ 3 Feview.
5ar"rove, <ancy 6#vall. Lands3ape as S4m&ol in the Poetr4 of T% S% Eliot% /niversit4 Press of