Carlo Rovelli: ‘Reality Is Not What It Seems’ (Penguin, 2017)

Professor Rovelli is a notable physicist.

The book represents leaps across the history of science – and quantum leaps too.

This book is well written but dense, especially as it progresses.  Relevant mathematical equations are quoted but remain impenetrable to most readers.  (This is a book for the general reader.)

Note that critics with background knowledge take issue with some of his statements and claims.

As indicated, Professor Rovelli “leaps” from the science and philosophy of Ancient Greece.  He takes the opportunity to praise the thinking of Democritus, the first writer reported to have put forward an atomic theory.

Moving on to the Romans, Rovelli singles out for praise the poet and philosopher Lucretius and his long poem – De Rerum Naturâ, On The Nature of the Universe:

Lucretius sings of atoms, the sea, the sky, of nature.  He expresses in luminous verse philosophical questions, scientific ideas, refined arguments.  [Page 20]

This is an example of the writer combining mathematical and scientific argument with with enthusiastic references to poetry.

Professor Rovelli builds on the work of a succession of great mathematicians and physicists (too numerous to mention here), in order to discuss ways of reconciling two great theories – relativity and quantum mechanics.  At the same time, he contemplates a finite rather than an infinite concept of the universe.  One of the models he delineates is that of the “3-sphere” (a technical concept).

Professor Rovelli writes:

Einstein’s idea is that space could be a 3-sphere: something with a finite volume (….) but without borders. The 3-sphere is the solution which Einstein proposes in his work of 1917 to the problem of the border of the border of the universe.  This article initiates modern cosmology….From it will arise the discovery of the expansion of the universe; the theory of the Big Bang; the problem of the birth of the universe, and much else besides.  [Pages 79f]

Professor Rovelli goes on to turn to the “classic” poet of his native Italy, namely Dante Alighieri, making a link between his Paradiso (Cantos XXVII and XXVIII) and the 3-sphere concept.  (He is not the first to suggest this.)  In brief, the more or less Ptolemaic concept of the universe adopted by Dante (but modified) has (i) the solar system embracing God and the celestial choir and (ii) vice versa!

Professor Rovelli states:

[Dante] ascends [the celestial] spheres….up to the outermost sphere.  When he reaches it, he contemplates the universe below him….But then he looks even higher – and what does he see?  He sees a point of light surrounded by immense spheres of angels, that is to say, by another immense ball, which, in his words ‘surrounds and is at the same time surrounded by’ the sphere of our universe!….The point of light and the sphere of angels are surrounding the universe, and at the same time they are surrounded by the universe!  It is an exact description of a 3-sphere!

This is intriguing for me and it will spur me to revisit this part of the Commedia.  (More to follow, from me, on this point, perhaps.)

Worth reading.  To be taken with a pinch of salt.  At the “cutting edge” of science, there is room for disagreement among scientists.

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Alys Fowler’s ‘Hidden Nature: A Voyage of Discovery’ (Hodden & Stoughton, 2017)

Tthe title of the book contains a double-entendre.  First, the writer discusses the nature of canals – the botanical, zoological and geological aspects, and the history of their building and uses.  This nature is largely hidden from view – hidden from those who don’t venture on to the towpath or indeed on to the water (as the writer does).  Ms Fowler evokes this nature enthusiastically and in detail – in a blend of objectivity and subjectivity.  She conveys the impact upon her that both the wildlife and the detritus of industry and our throwaway society create.

Secondly, the accounts of her exploration of the canals of the West Midlands (and London too, a bit) are blended with her personal history – her midlife crisis, indeed.   (Well, she is in her late thirties.)  The canal trips provide a way for the writer to re-assess her life and to make life-changing decisions.  (She is a gardener who temporarily abandons her garden.)

In brief, Ms Fowler changes partners.  She is torn, about this.  Her re-orientation takes time and trouble and involves painful feelings.  But she sticks to her decision, once made, and accepts the implications and costs.

Ms Fowler writes about sexuality but not sex.  She writes about herself rather than about her partners – they remain somewhat shadowy, little described.  (This preserves a degree of privacy for them.)  Her account is openly subjective.  The “significant others” would have said something different (of course).

This book is not for everyone.  (I like it.)  Not all will enjoy the canal and nature descriptions.  Not all will accompany the writer on her emotional journey sympathetically.  Some may not go along with her decision to leave one partner and to take up with another.

Worth a look.  Thought-provoking.

Afterthought

Did I mention that Alys leaves her husband for a woman?  No!?

From what I can gather, Alys is not alone in her transition from a relationship with a man to one with a woman.  And the writer is at some pains to say that the former relationship was genuine and fond – implying that it was the right thing at the time (at its time).

I guess we don’t yet know much about what has been termed “sexual fluidity”.

the UK “dementia tax” and the welfare state

Since 1948 most health care has been provided in the UK free of charge; and most of the funds come from central government; and it is raised through national (social) insurance and taxation.

Since 1948 (at least) social care has been subject to charges, based on means testing.  Some users of services pay little or nothing.  Early on, few people availed themselves of social care.  Most men died shortly after retiring at 65.  Home helps were directed towards assisting mothers giving birth to children at home, as the fathers carried on working.  (There was no provision for paternity leave – and none for maternity leave either.)  By today, the situation has changed enormously.

Changes to the funding of social care have been considered by successive governments, but the matter has been placed, repeatedly in the “too difficult” tray.

The 2017 General Election campaign has reminded me that home and day care charges are based on income, but residential care charges are based upon assets and income.  (Assets include houses and flats.)  Any major change to this regime by an incoming Conservative government, as proposed – taking account of assets – has great implications for many people in England but also for other countries, notably Wales, as the block grant to Wales will be affected by any adjustment to funding in England.  In other words, if the Westminster government spends (through its reduced allocation to local authorities) LESS on social care, then budgets in Wales will be influenced.  (Remember the implications of student tuition fees, led by England.)

How should social care be paid for?

The possible sources are these, and they may act in combination:

  • People paying for themselves, in full or in part
  • Charges based on a means test related to income
  • Charges based on a means test related to assets (capital)
  • Public moneys raised through taxation (and, in the UK, national insurance).

I believe in principle that social care should be free at the point of delivery, and, like health care, it should be funded out of taxation.

A less idealistic approach has to consider a modified version of this.  From one end of the telescope, in a manner of speaking, a residual minimum of savings can be protected from charges.  This is where we are now.  From the other end of the telescope, a “cap” on cumulative payments by users of services can be imposed.  This has been considered but not implemented.

Private insurance against the costs of social care has not proved to be a realistic option, as the risks are hard to calculate.

I would like to suggest that, in the interim, social care for people over the age of 85 should be made free and exempt from means testing and charging.  (The threshold is arbitrary and can be changed.)  One reason is that advanced ageing results in an increasing incidence of frailty – multiple frailties, indeed.  Secondly, what social workers and local authority finance officers wish to chase frail elderly people for payment?

A note on people with impairments and disabilities, aged 0-85.  Many young and middle-aged people are rendered poor – with low incomes and diminished earning capacity – and therefore are ineligible for charges.  Who would charge children?

I would hope that a threshold around age 85 might encourage insurance companies to offer policies for coverage for any care needs that arise before the age limit – and might encourage people to investigate the option of insurance.

The time is overdue for change – and for fair policies for social care.

Liberalism v authoritarianism – comparing 17th century England & Wales with the UK in the 21st century

On 3 May 2017 UK Prime Minister Theresa May made a verbal attack on unspecified critics associated with the work of the European Union.  But is she blaming them for her own problems?  Is attack seen as the best form of defence?

The UK governments of recent years – Conservative-Liberal Democratic, 2010-15, and Conservative, 2015 till now – have been characterised by massive cuts to social expenditure and the demonisation of certain minorities, especially benefits claimants, migrants and asylum seekers.  There have been claims to be liberal but the practice shows features of authoritarianism.  Theresa May was an illiberal Home Secretary (2010-15).  She has advocated the repeal of the Human Rights Act and UK withdrawal from the European Convention on Human Rights.

Politicians as a bunch can display, and act upon, both liberal and authoritarian tendencies, at different times.  These have been noted in Labour, Conservative and Coalition governments in recent years.  Insofar as Mrs May keeps championing “strong and stable leadership” (in other words, her own leadership), she can be regarded as authoritarian.  We should learn from history the dangers of “strong” leadership.  There are enough tyrannical leaders around in the 21st century wider world – as there were in the 20th century.

Liberalism is messy – but it offers a better bet to voters than authoritarianism.  Authoritarian leaders find it hard to change course and to learn from criticism; or they change their mind and alter course, opportunistically, and claim they were consistent all the time.  (Remember George Orwell’s 1984.)  Mrs May herself was supposedly in favour of a ‘EU Remain’ vote in the 2016 UK referendum.  But now she is stridently hostile to the EU.  Her position is weak – one against 27!

17th century England and Wales suffered authoritarian rule under Charles I, the Commonwealth (led by Oliver Cromwell) and Charles II – the details varied. The poet John Milton who supported the Commonwealth (not uncritically); and he suffered for this after the Restoration of Charles II.  He went on to write his great verse epic, Paradise Lost.

Interpretations of PL are diverse; and there is controversy among scholars, not so much about the value, but about the arguments.  Is it religious and theological?  Yes.  Is it allegorical?  Maybe, to an extent.  Does it directly reflect the breakdown of the command of the Commonwealth over ordinary people?  Perhaps not.  Is Milton’s God authoritarian?  Milton does not think so – quite the opposite.  Is Satan authoritarian?  Yes he is, while pretending to be democratic.

One idea about PL is that Milton demonstrates in it a circular rather than a linear view of human history.  Consistent with a linear view is the belief (or hope) that humans as a whole are engaged in progress.*  Do not people of a liberal disposition embrace this idea?  The circular model fits in with the idea of repeated falls and rises in history.  Given Milton’s Christian beliefs, human history commenced with the Fall of the rebellious angels from heaven, followed by the Fall of Adam and Eve.

We should recall that Milton believed in mankind’s free will.  So all citizens have to take some responsibility for the politics of their country.

So perhaps the UK is now in a period of decline and fall long and drawn out.  Separation from the EU will probably hasten this.

 

*See: Weston, P (1987), John Milton: Paradise Lost, London: Penguin – pages 25-6.

 

Three Welsh medieval romances

Introduction

Students of Welsh literature are proud of the medieval inheritance, including the anonymous eleven tales bracketed together as the “Mabinogion”.  Among these are the three so-called “romances”.  They tell the story of Owain (Owein), in The Lady of the Fountain, of Peredur in the tale centred on him, and Geraint (Gereint) in Geraint son of Erbin.

These romances have analogues in French and German:

Chrétien de Troyes’s Yvain ou le chevalier au lion and Hartmann’s Ywein (compare Iarlles y Ffynnon [Owain]);

Chrétien’s Ėrec et Ėnide and Hartmann’s Erec (compare Geraint);

Chrétien’s Perceval and Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival (compare Peredur).

Are the continental versions superior?  Or just different?  My own opinion is that the Welsh versions, albeit shorter than the continental ones, and in prose rather than in verse, have literary merit in their own right.

Features

1 The romances are patently not like present-day novels.  In varying degrees, the tales are episodic rather than connected and dominated by one plot; some incident episodes are interpolated, or added – after what would appear to be the natural ending.

2 The stories are Arthurian, although Arthur, and Gwenhywfar (= Guinevere), are somewhat peripheral, in two of the romances.  However, many episodes do start, or finish, at Arthur’s court, in Caerleon on Usk.  Arthur and Gwenhwyfar play prominent parts in the Geraint and Enid story.

3 The protagonists are knights and heroes.  They are associated with Arthur’s court but have independent adventures, which provide the content of the tales.  They are knights errant, seeking adventure.  Arthur’s court appears to be surrounded by independent chiefdoms, where either friendship or hostility may be encountered, and (perhaps) otherworld characters.

4 The eponymous heroes are always victorious in combat.  However, they are less successful in love than in battle – they have to work harder, to gain and to maintain relationships.  All three protagonists have to learn to take the responsibility of faithfulness to his lady seriously.  (Arthur and Gwenhwyfar serve as a model.)  The romances, then, are largely about love.

5 The heroes have to learn to take responsibility for leadership and rule, and to balance this with their matrimonial obligations.

6 The content reflects a society where there is a division of labour between men and women.  The knights do the fighting.  The ladies encourage and nurture the heroes: some of them need to be rescued (like “damsels in distress”).  Female messengers, moreover, confront heroes with their failings and stir them into action.

7 Some characters are individualised: Cei is always rude, Gwalchmai is always polite, Luned is kind and clever, Gwenhwyfar is the perfect hostess and sponsor, and Enid is loyal to Geraint, under pressure.

8 The chronology of each tale is linear; descriptions of combat are repetitive; descriptions of climactic events are colourful, however; and the characters’ dialogues are crisp.

9 There is much repetition, within episodes, but also subtle variation.  (Cynon’s story is repeated by Owain’s – with a different outcome.)

10 Supernatural characters, and figures of an ambiguous nature, play an important part.  The protagonists are tested by natural and by supernatural powers, on their journey to full maturity.

11 Significant symbols appear, for example, the bloody spear and severed head, in Peredur.

12 There and hints of both Christian and pre-Christian belief systems in the romances.

Assumptions concerning relationships between the Welsh romances and the works of Chrétien, Hartmann and Wolfram

1 The French versions by Chrétien de Troyes gave rise to the German versions by Hartmann von Aue and Wolfram von Eschenbach.

2 The Welsh romances are not translations of the French; the French versions are not direct translations of the Welsh; the Welsh and French versions may derive from a common source.

3 The French and German versions refer to place names in Wales, rather distorted.  The Welsh setting points to strong Welsh influence.

4 At the same time, scholars detect French influence on the Welsh versions that have come down to us.

Iarlles y Ffynnon – the Lady of the Fountain

The story

The lady of the title (otherwise known as the Countess = Iarlles) is not named.  Her maid, who plays an important part in the story is named, as Luned.

The hero is Owain.  Other knights who are important in the story are Cynon and Gwalchmai.

The story is about a knight who leaves Arthur’s court home to go on a quest: he wins a wife, but he loses her (by his neglect of her); but finally he is reconciled with her.

On his quest, then, Owain defeats and mortally wounds the knight who defends the lands of his wife (the Countess) by guarding the symbolic fountain.  (Owain succeeds where his friend Cynon has already failed.)  Luned persuades the Countess to marry again.  With Owain himself already in mind, she advises the Countess thus:

Thou knowest that thy dominions cannot be defended save by main strength and arms; and for that reason seek quickly one who may defend them.

[Jones & Jones, page 168]

And accordingly, Owain marries the Countess.

Invited back to Arthur’s court, Owain goes for a visit.  A period of three months is agreed, but in the event Owain stays for three years, in effect, deserting his wife.  Then a female stranger comes to Arthur’s court.  She comes up to Owain and takes away the ring that is on his hand:

‘Thus,’ said she, ‘does one do to a false treacherous deceiver, to bring shame on thy beard.’  And she turned her horse’s head and away.

And then remembrance of his adventure came to Owein, and he was sorrowful.

[Jones & Jones, pages 173f]

Owain despairs at first; but then he rehabilitates himself (with the aid of a friendly lion).  In the end, Owain proves his fitness, once more, to be a true husband, and the couple are reconciled.

The History of Peredur son of Efrog

Summary

Peredur starts life as the seventh and sole surviving son of his widowed mother; he leaves his widowed mother; he becomes an Arthurian knight; he falls in love with various ladies; he sees “marvels” at an uncle’s castle; he avenges the harm done to his family on the perpetrators – the witches of Caer Loyw.

In his youth, Peredur receives instruction – in various proportions, as regards arms and courtesy, respectively – from a series of people, principally, his own mother, two uncles, and a hermit.

The hero’s duties

In Peredur, the hero can be said to have two obligations to fulfil: (i) the task of righting wrongs (through chivalry), and (ii) the task of finding (and keeping) a lady.

1 The righting of wrongs

The righting of wrongs has to do with avenging injuries suffered by Peredur himself (through Cei’s insults), members of his family, members of Arthur’s court, and others (eg “damsels in distress”).  This task is performed by force of arms.

In particular, Peredur is called upon to kill the witches of Caer Loyw, in revenge for the killing of a cousin and the laming of an uncle.  Moreover, by killing the witches, the sovereignty that belongs to his family is (or can be) passed on to Peredur himself.

2 Love

Somewhat like the other heroes of the romances, Peredur appears to find the maintenance of a love relationship (once achieved) much harder than achievements in combat.

Peredur has a series of love affairs, with three principal ladies in succession: (i) an unnamed fair lady*, (ii) Angharad Golden-hand, and (iii) the Empress of Constantinople.

Note that love too can be connected with sovereignty: a knight can gain it by marrying a powerful lady, as in Peredur’s relationship with the Empress of Constantinople, in Peredur, and in Owain’s marrying the Countess (in The Lady of the Fountain).

*The unnamed fair lady

The lady in question is described as follows:

Whiter was [her flesh] than flowers of the whitest crystal; but her hair and her eyebrows, blacker were they than jet.  Two small red spots on her cheeks, redder were they than aught reddest.

[Jones & Jones, pages 194f]

(Compare Chrétiens’s Blanchefleur and Wolfram’s Condwiramurs.)

Later, Peredur is entranced by a colourful sight that reminds him of the woman he loves:

The she-hawk rose up, and a raven alighted on the [duck’s] flesh.  Peredur stood and likened the exceeding blackness of the raven, and the whiteness of the snow, and the redness of the [duck’s] blood, to the hair of the woman he loved best, which was black as jet, and her flesh to the whiteness of the snow, and the redness of the blood in the white snow to the two red spots in the cheeks of the woman he loved best.

[Jones & Jones, page 199]

These parallel passages are fine in their own right.  They also point to a way the first love story could have gone.  Wolfram’s Parzival makes much of this knight-lady relationship and guides it towards a happy ending.

Variations on the Grail motif

The Grail as such does not appear in Peredur.

At the court of the second uncle, Peredur sees, not a “grail”, but a spear running with blood and the bloody severed head of a man on a salver.  Nobody present offers an explanation of these manifestations; and Peredur does not ask.  (Compare the behaviour of Perceval and Parzival.)

Later in the story, Peredur is confronted, at Arthur’s court, by a “black curly-headed maiden”, with a “rough unlovely look about her”, and misshapen: she tells him, accusingly, that she should have asked about the meaning of the spear and the severed head, when at his uncle’s court.

Later still, however, a “yellow-haired youth” makes a different point:

‘The [severed] head was thy cousin’s, and it was the witches of Caer Loyw that had slain him.  And ‘twas they that lamed thy [first] uncle.  And….it is prophesied that thou wilt avenge that.’

[Jones & Jones, page 226]

With the help of his Arthurian companions, Peredur proceeds to kill the witches of Caer Loyw – and so the story ends.

Comments:

1 The question test raised by the challenging maiden points to the insertion of new material, perhaps under the influence of Perceval or a source behind it.  (In both Perceval and Parzival, the question test is of major significance.)

2 The youth’s explanation of the significance of the bloody “marvels” fits in with the righting of wrongs element of Peredur.

3 Another genuine reason for the maiden’s challenge (in an earlier version) might have been a call to Peredur to return to his true wife (whichever lady she might be).  (Compare the story of Owain).  This would fit in with the love element of Peredur.

Conclusion

Peredur is interesting, because:

  1. it shows the development of the hero
  2. it shows the hero’s valour
  3. it shows the hero’s courtesy to women and to older men
  4. it has descriptions both of great ugliness and great beauty
  5. it has many magical or supernatural elements
  6. its contents and themes can be compared and contrasted with those that characterise Perceval and

Geraint son of Erbin

The characters of Geraint and of Enid (his wife)

In the first half of the story, Geraint displays courtesy and valour, respect for his father, and love for his wife (tending to uxoriousness).  In the second half, however, Geraint’s behaviour is marked by pride, jealousy and stubbornness.

Enid remains a loving and faithful wife to Geraint.  She warns him of oncoming dangers, as best she can, even though she is constantly rebuffed by Geraint for her pains.

The story

The theme is that of the hero winning a lady to wife, then losing her (cf Owain), and eventually achieving a reconciliation with her.

Geraint goes on a quest to avenge the hurt caused to one of Gwenhyfar’s maids (and indirectly to Gwenhwyfar herself).  He is victorious in a tournament; he puts right the wrongs suffered by the family he lodges with; he woos Enid, the daughter of the house, and marries her.

Geraint relaxes and adopts a life of ease and inactivity.  This gives rise to gossip, and causes distress to Enid.  The couple become estranged.  Precipitately, Geraint takes Enid off on a quest, without a clear object or direction, to prove his valour once more.

After numerous victories against opponents, Geraint ends up exhausted and wounded and unconscious, and seemingly near death.  A certain earl, taking advantage of the situation, tries to persuade Enid to leave Geraint for him.  Enid refuses, the earl hits her, and Enid shrieks; Geraint wakes up, seizes his sword and promptly kills the earl.  The couple make their escape.

Realising how emotionally cruel he has been to Enid, Geraint looks on her in a new light:

Geraint looked on Enid and a double grief came over him: the one to see how Enid had lost her colour and her mien, and the other was that he knew then she was in the right.

[Jones & Jones, page 269]

This change signals the beginning of the reconciliation process.  And the story ends happily for them.

Sources, in order of publication date

Jones, G and Jones, T (1949) (translators), The Mabinogion, London: J M Dent & Sons (Everyman).

Jones, R M (Bobi) (editor) (1960), Y Tair Rhamant, Aberystwyth: Cymdeithas Lyfrau Ceredigion.

Evans, J G (editor) (1973), Llyfr Gwyn Rhydderch –Y Chwedlau a’r Rhamantau, Cardiff: University of Wales Press, with an Introduction by Evans, R M.

Goetinck, G W (1975), Peredur: A Study of Welsh Traditions in the Grail Legends, Cardiff: University of Wales Press.

Goetinck, G W (ed) (1976), Historia Peredur vab Efrawc, Cardiff: University of Wales Press.

Vitt, A M (2010), Peredur vab Efrawc – Edited Texts and Translations of the MSS Peniarth 7 and 14 Versions, MPhil, Aberystwyth University, viewed 28 April 2017, http://cadair.aber.ac.uk/dspace/bitstream/handle/2160/6118/Vitt_Electronic%20MPhil%20Thesis.pdf?sequence=1

More to follow!

Sparks from the flint – an analysis of Chapter VIII of D H Lawrence’s 2nd version of ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’

Introduction

Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover is set in 1920s industrial England.  Lady Constance (“Connie”) Chatterley and the gamekeeper employed by her paraplegic husband (maimed in World War One) have an affair; Connie becomes pregnant; by the end, Connie and her lover are pondering their (rather limited) options for the future.  The novel ends with matters unresolved.

Three principal themes are: (i) class divisions, (ii) relationships between the sexes, and (iii) the dire effects of disappointment and frustration with one’s lot in life.  Class divisions affect sexual relationships across the divide – adversely.  They are implicated in physical damage to ordinary working people, through maiming and death for some.  (World War One has done this too.)  They are also implicated in emotional damage – the encouragement of domination on the part of the employers, and the hurting of pride, and promotion of defiance, on the part of the employed.

Three versions

There are three versions of the novel: the third is the best known.

Pascale Ferran’s film, Lady Chatterley et l’homme du bois (2006) is based on the 2nd version of the novel.  This was first published by Penguin in the UK in 1973.  (It is called John Thomas and Lady Jane; but Tenderness would be more appropriate.) 

The main themes and plot are common to versions 2 and 3, as regards the strengths (characterisation and social analysis) and weaknesses (preachiness).  At the same time, there are also important differences, in the nature of principal characters and in details of the ending.  In the 2nd version, for example, the gamekeeper is called Parkin, not Mellors.  By the end, moreover, Sir Clifford remains unaware both of the affair and of Connie’s pregnancy.  Parkin has to go away to find work, and this disrupts the pursuit of his relationship with Connie.

In my opinion, the 2nd version of the novel compares very well with the 3rd.

Relations among the main characters, in Chapter VIII of the 2nd version

Chapter VIII (which corresponds roughly to Chapter X in the 3rd version) covers one day.  It is pivotal in the development of the story, as I hope to show.  It also sheds light on the nature of the four important characters who appear and speak in the chapter:

  1. Connie Chatterley, lonely and isolated, frustrated with her life, before meeting Parkin
  2. Sir Clifford Chatterley, stoical, strong-willed and domineering, frustrated by his disability
  3. Oliver Parkin, solitary, resentful of authority, mistrustful of women but softened by meeting Connie
  4. Mrs Ivy Bolton, Sir Clifford’s live-in nurse and care giver

Mrs Flint, young mother – neighbour and acquaintance of the Chatterleys – also appears.

In the course of the day covered by Chapter VIII, Connie meets and talks to all the others.  I shall examine the viewpoints of each of these four people and how the events of the day affect them.

CONSTANCE (“CONNIE”)

This is Connie’s view of herself at the beginning of the day: “She was miserable and angry with herself, feeling today more paralysed than Clifford.”

Clifford has gone out: she feels she must go out – so she goes to see Mrs Flint.

This is Connie’s appreciation of Mrs Flint and her child: “The quiet female atmosphere, just Mrs Flint and the baby, and the servant-girl, was infinitely soothing.”

And later: “And she was thinking so deeply of Mrs Flint’s baby.  It was a nice little thing, with hair like red gossamer, and such a delicate skin.”

On her way home, Connie bumps into Parkin, with whom she has already had sex twice. He grabs hold of her – she first tries to push him away.  In the event, this is what happens: “Her instinct was to fight him. He held her so hard.  Yet why fight?  Why fight anybody?  Her will seemed to leave her and she was limp.”

Connie lets Parkin take her.  (Does she give true consent?)  In the event, the sex that follows is described by Lawrence in these florid terms:

And then, something awoke in her.  Strange, thrilling sensation that she had never known before woke up where he was within her, in wild thrills like wild, wild bells.

But, about their relationship, Connie acknowledges her ambivalent feelings:

When she woke to herself, she knew life had changed for her.  Changed with him.  And she was afraid.  She was afraid of loving him.  She was afraid of letting herself go…..Ah, she adored him!  And she longed to abandon herself to the luxury of loving him.  At the same time, she mistrusted yielding to her lover.

Connie is changing, and she realises that she is changing:

She was full of a strange triumph, and a sort of glory of new pleasure.  She could still feel the echoes of the thrill of passion in her blood, ebbing away down all her veins like the rich after-humming of deep bells.”

Connie has a new aspiration: “And she felt sure she would have a child, a baby with soft live limbs, ensheathed in her own life.”

At home, Connie sees Clifford with new eyes:

And she thought, suddenly, what a queer rapacity there was in his naked face and his alert cautious eyes….He no longer cared about persons.  It was the mines that occupied his attention, on them his will was fixed.  He was going to pull them out of the depression: he was going to make money.

CLIFFORD

Clifford has an inkling of changes in Connie and her drift away from him.  First, he notices her inattention to his reading out loud to her (one of their habits):

The reading finished.  She was startled.  She looked up, and was more startled still to see Clifford watching her with a faint, cruel smile in his eyes.

The growing gap is reinforced when Connie goes to bed and wishes Clifford “Good-night!” (only):

As she spoke, she drifted dreamily nearer the door.  She was going without kissing him good-night.  He watched her with lynx eyes.  Even that she could forget!  And he was too proud, too offended to remind her.  Though the kiss, indeed, was but a formality….He could not make love to her! and therefore she was withdrawing every tiny show of love.  She forgot, no doubt.  But the forgetfulness was part of the whole intention….Ah well! he was a man, and asked charity from nobody, not even his wife.

Clifford takes comfort in cherishing his master-servant (child-mother?) relationship with his nurse, Mrs Bolton:

But after all, Mrs Bolton was his best tonic.  She did not understand the awfulness of his mental condition, as Connie did, therefore she was the best help….His dread was for the night, when he could not sleep.  But now he would ring for Mrs Bolton, and she would come in her dressing-gown….strangely girlish and secretive, and talk to him, or play chess or cards with him.

PARKIN

Parkin shows evidence of obsession with Connie, and possessiveness.  When he bumps into Connie, on her homeward walk, he shows anger at the thought that she might be avoiding him.  “You wasn’t slivin’ past and not meanin’ to see me, was you?” he says, challengingly.

In the event, he is implicitly forgiven for his forceful manner, as the sexual act turns out to be satisfactory for both of them, this time: “We came off together that time,” he says to her.

At home, later, Parkin finds that he cannot sleep: “He was unsettled, in a ferment.”  He goes for a night walk, with his dog.   His steps take him to the Chatterleys’ house.  Looking up at it reinforces his desire for Connie, sleeping within:

He went slowly up the incline, towards the house, hoping for the woman.  It was a necessity that he should see her, should come to her, should touch her, if only for a moment.  If he found his way into the house! – or if he made her know he was there! – or if he waited, waited, waited for naked day.

But Parkin realises the “futility of his yearning”: so, “he turned away, slowly, ponderingly, despairingly”.

Parkin, moreover, worries about the strength of the relationship with Connie and about his obsession with her.  His pride and his need for independence come through, in his thoughts: “A man must not depend on a woman.”

MRS BOLTON

Mrs Bolton already has suspicions about Connie, arising from the recent change in her.  On Connie’s arrival home from her walk, they talk, and Mrs Bolton thinks:

The eyes of the two women met, Mrs Bolton’s, grey and bright and cool, Constance’s, bright and burning.  And with the infernal instinct of her kind, Mrs Bolton knew that Constance had a lover of some sort.  She had suspected it before.  Tonight she was sure.  And a curious pleasure, a satisfaction almost as if it had been her own lover, leaped up inside her.  Only the question began to burn in her mind, who was he?

Again, later:

Tonight, at the back of her mind, she was continually wondering whom her lady had found for a lover.  There seemed no gentleman possible.

She does think of Parkin, but rejects the idea:

There was Parkin in the wood, of course!….But then her ladyship would never stoop to him!….He might be attractive to a low sort of woman, if any one could stand his overbearing, nasty way.  But for a refined woman, he was just a snarling nasty brute.

Does Mrs Bolton show insight into Parkin’s character, or prejudice, or indeed both?

Mrs Bolton follows up her critique of Parkin with an unflattering observation about “refined ladies” in general and Connie in particular:

Still, you never knew!  When women did fall, they sometimes liked to fall as low as they could.  Refined ladies would fall in love with niggers, so her ladyship might enjoy demeaning herself with that foul-mouthed fellow, who would bully her the moment he got a chance.  But there, she’d had her own way for so long, she might be asking to be bullied.

Later, still awake, she spots Parkin as he approaches the house in the dark – seeing but remaining unseen.  Her suspicion is confirmed.  Her thoughts, now, mark the end of the chapter:

And Mrs Bolton….saw him turn and disappear.  Yes, he was gone!  And his going made her more certain than ever.

“Well, would you ever now!” she said to herself, dazed with sleep.  “And not a young man either!”

Conclusions and Questions

Is Lawrence obsessed with sex?  Does the reader appreciate Lawrence’s style, when he writes about sex, explicitly?  This is a matter of personal preference, perhaps.

Is Lawrence hostile, not only to class divisions and conflict but also to the sexual morality prevailing in 1920s England (which condemned sex outside marriage)?  I think so.

Are Lawrence’s characters rounded?  Do they change?  Do they arouse understanding, or even sympathy, in the reader?  Are there ambiguities?  Can Parkin (for example) be seen from more than one point of view?  Can they all be true?  Yes, he is hard at times, gentle at others.  (Is there a history behind his hardness?  Yes.)

I believe that in Chapter VIII Lawrence portrays his main characters’ profound feelings and thoughts, especially about their relations with each other, very well indeed.  He is very good at conveying the tensions inherent in the relationship between Connie and Parkin – the forces pushing them together and those wrenching them apart.  On the personal level, both have ambivalent feelings – each wishing to yield to the other, and not wishing to yield, at one and the same time.  True to life, no doubt.

 

 

 

 

 

A poet’s labour lost?

Arguably, it can be said of Love’s Labour’s Lost that, among Shakespeare’s plays, it is relatively seldom performed and therefore less known by those who go to see plays and those who study S’s works.

Kenneth Branagh made a film of LLL in 2000.  He used very little of the original text.  He set the story in the 1930s, with period American songs to match (like a musical).

In recent years, LLL has been put on at The Globe and by the RSC.  Seeing the latter on DVD has prompted me to reconsider my attitude to the play (which remains somewhat mixed).

What is it about?  Why is it less popular?

“Boy meets girl”

Here, we have the matter of four boys chasing the four girls who arrive at their court (ostensibly on an embassy).  The gentlemen (or lords) – The King of Navarre and his coterie – are boyish and immature.  They swear a foolish oath, to abjure the company of women for three years, and swiftly break it in the light of reality (their sexual drive).

The “girls”, on the other hand – the Princess of France and her attendants – are grown-up ladies.  They are impressed, neither by the men’s oath, nor their breaking of it.  The ladies leave to go home, on receipt of the news that the Princess’s father (the King of France) has died.  The coup-de-théâtre – the arrival of the messenger from France, in the middle of an entertainment – dramatically breaks the comical tone, bordering on the farcical, that has characterised the play hitherto.

The male suitors are made to wait for a year (and meanwhile to use their time wisely) before trying to court the ladies again.  As one gentleman (Browne) puts it: “Jack hath not Jill.”  (Compare the ending of Chaucer’s Parliament of Fowls.)

Can one identify with any of these characters?  At least, the ladies are more sensible than the gentlemen.

The other characters

Most of these are comedians or caricatures (or both).  The comic ones are: the ladies’ male attendant, a Spanish knight (and braggart), his page, a pedantic schoolmaster, a curate, a constable, and a clown.  The dairymaid and the forester are neutral.  By virtue of his role, the messenger from France is serious.

Arguably, Shakespeare sees some of these men as figures of fun.  They tend (variously) to use puns and plays on words, Latinisms and ornate language.  There are jokes, but many of these are unintelligible nowadays, without notes; and so they are best omitted from the play in performance.  Notably, the knight’s language reveals no Hispanic features.  (The thinking behind this is lost to us.)

One can accuse the male suitors (above) of elaborate, dense language traits too.  The ladies are more straightforward, while still witty.

Aspect One

In a way, nothing much happens in this play.  The men talk, the ladies arrive, the men try to court the ladies (without success), and the ladies leave, leaving sound advice as their parting shot.

One can add that the dairymaid is revealed to be pregnant – either by the clown or the knight.  There is an implication that it is the knight who will care for her.

Aspect Two

The play has much to do about language – its uses and abuses.  (Compare The Merry Wives of Windsor, in this regard.)

Much of the play is written in rhymed verse (spoken by the lords and ladies).  Embedded in the speeches there are six sonnets, by my reckoning.  The four lords compose one love poem (each) to the ladies they profess to love: three of these are sonnets.  (Worth a look.)  (Three of the poems are reproduced in The Passionate Pilgrim.)

The play ends, delightfully, with two songs – (i) the spring song of the cuckoo and (ii) the winter song of the owl.  (Worth a look too.)

Aspect Three

The male characters – both lords and commoners – attempt to entertain the ladies – but with little or no success.

At one point, the lords approach the ladies disguised themselves as Muscovites (why!?); but, as the ladies have been tipped off, they have no difficulty in getting ready for them, by disguising themselves, too, and hence confusing them.

The comic male characters put on a show of the “Nine Worthies” (five attempting to portray nine, between them!); but their acting is disrupted, firstly by the derision of the lords, and secondly, by the arrival of the messenger from France.

Aspect Four

LLL has great displays of witBut how funny is it?

Perhaps the funniest part is to be found in Act 4, Scene 3.  Here the four lords, arrive, in succession, to read their love poems aloud but (as they suppose) in secret. They suffer the indignity of being spied on by their fellows and then being confronted with the breaking of the shared oath.  Each one has to admit that he is in love with one of the ladies.

(The men are fine poets but clumsy lovers.)

Conclusion

LLL is hard to put on; it is hard to make a success of it; it requires the exercise of imagination and a willingness to make cuts, on the part of the production team.  With the aid of explanatory notes, LLL is readable – in places, amusing, in other places, rather tedious.

Many of Shakespeare’s works show a timeless quality (although times and places are evoked).  On examination, LLL comes across as very much product of its period, the 1590s, by virtue of its veiled allusions (i) to the works of certain of Shakespeare’s contemporaries, eg those of Sir Philip Sidney, and (ii) to contemporary events, eg in France – all rather obscure, today.  Hence, there is a distance between the rather artificial world portrayed by LLL and our world today (and the literature and drama that reflect it).

Love’s Labour’s Won

Such a play may have existed – a sequel to LLL; but if so, it is lost, under this title.  Various hypotheses have been put forward, suggesting that one or other surviving play fits the bill – Love’s Labour’s Won under a different name – for example, Much Ado About Nothing or All’s Well That Ends Well.  I venture to suggest, instead, The Merry Wives of Windsor, where Fenton succeeds in marrying Miss Anne Page (winning out against Dr Caius and Slender).

Editions and versions taken into account

I have read these editions of LLL and the editors’ introductions:

1 Kerrigan, J (1982), Penguin: Harmondsworth (Middlesex)

2 Hibbard, G R (1990), OUP: Oxford

3 Woudhuysen, H R (1998), Arden 3 (Thomas Nelson & Sons): Walton-on-Thames

Performances

1 Branagh, K (director) (2000) – cinema film and video

2 Luscombe, C (director) (2015) – DVD of live performance.

 

 

 

The Uses of Satire in 21st Century

Is satire of any use?  Does it change anything?

Sometimes real events appear to stretch the capabilities of commentators who wish to address through criticism, invective, ridicule or, indeed, satire.

Satire has a very long history. Numerous definitions of it are available.  Many literary or dramatic productions have satirical elements or passages.  The boundaries are blurred at the edges.  I take it that cartoons can be satirical: when they address individuals, they probably qualify as lampoons rather than satires: I rely on the definitions cited below.

I would like to refer to two definitions of satire, as they are insightful, in my opinion.

In his famous dictionary (1755), Samuel Johnson noted the definition from the Latin ‘satira’ and defined it as:

A poem in which wickedness or folly is censured.  Proper satire is distinguished, by the generality of the reflections, from a lampoon which is aimed against a particular person; but they are too frequently confounded.

 

The aim of satire is clear.  The literary nature is given as the mode of expression.  Verse is preferred to prose.  (Discuss!)

 

Secondly, I refer to the 1946 MA thesis of a Mr E L Watrin, student at Loyola ir

 

(See: Watrin, Eugene L., Absalom and Achitophel in the Light of the Scholastic Canons of Aesthetics (1946). Master’s Theses. Paper 417. http://ecommons.luc.edu/luc_theses/417 Accessed 7 Feb 2017)

In his thesis, Mr Watrin examined the nature of satire in general and John Dryden’s 1681 verse satire in particular.

Dryden’s long poem fulfils the criteria of Samuel Johnson’s definition, as it is in verse, and it is aimed at a particular time, place and group of people (England’s powerful men – mostly, those in government).

One of the clever aspects of the poem is the parallels Dryden establishes between the English of his time and the Jews of the 2nd Book of Samuel in the Bible.  Hence, King David represents King Charles II and Absalom (David’s illegitimate son) represents the Duke of Monmouth (Charles’s own illegitimate son).  And so on.

The poem still meets with admiration among scholars.  But few people today know much about this part of the OT, nor late 7th century English history, nor John Dryden, let know Absalom and Achitophel.   (I shall comment on this, below.)

I proceed to Mr Watrin’s carefully considered definition of satire:

As a working description which can serve as foundation for further explanation we might say that satire is literature written to reform or improve, rendered effective by rhetorical devices. Or….satire is a literary production in which the correction of abuse is the principal form, and the rhetorical devices which add brilliance to this first form are the secondary forms. The three notes which characterize satire are the literary manner, the corrective purpose, and the use of rhetoric. The first distinguished it from the sermon or oration, the second from comedy, and the third from impassioned diatribe. [page 31]

This definition permits the inclusion of prose satire, so long as it reaches a high literary standard and uses rhetorical devices.

The trouble is that, generally, satire’s edge loses its sharpness with the passage of time.  The writer presupposes that the reader or audience will understand who or what the targets are.  As time passes, many issues which give rise to satire become footnotes in history.  It takes a great writer to produce something that lasts and that gives delight and perhaps instruction to later generations.  Who fulfils this criterion?

I would put forward a few names: Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), George Orwell (1903-1950), and Dario Fo (1926-2016). (Not meant to be an exclusive list.)

Swift

Jonathan Swift was a prolific writer of satires.  He is best remembered nowadays for his Gulliver’s Travels (1726 and 1735)The precise historical background is lost to today’s readers, in the absence of footnotes.  However, readers can make their own connections to abuses of the present day.

Fo

Dario Fo has been a prolific and popular writer and indeed multi-tasker.  His Accidental Death of an Anarchist (Morte accidentale di un anarchico) (1970), for example, albeit constructed as a farce, satirises police corruption and illogicality, mercilessly and (I think) effectively.

Orwell

George Orwell is still widely admired – but particularly for two works.

Animal Farm (1945) is extremely well constructed. It is clear and concise.  It has a strong internal logic.  It makes a clever use of allegory: the animal characters are endowed with human traits. It is funny, but the humour is bitter.

The satire is upon totalitarianism.  It appears that Orwell was thinking of Soviet-style communism; but it my opinion it can be applied to fascism too.

Some of the phrases have become well-known quotations, for example: “Four legs good, two legs good,” and its distortion into “Four legs good, two legs better”, and “All animals are equal,” which is twisted into “All animals are equal but some are more equal than others.”

A warning from history!

I do not see Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four/1984 (1949) as a satire.  Whereas Animal Farm starts on a heroic note and ends in a dystopia, 1984 presents the reader with an ongoing dystopia. It can be seen as a second take on the end situation depicted in Animal Farm.

Many of its concepts have entered the language, for example, “Big Brother” and “Newspeak”.  “Newspeak” has relevance to the 21st century, as today we hear talk of “fake news” and “post-truth” – in other words, lies.  (I note that Rudyard Kipling, in his poem If, spoke of: “the truth you’ve spoken/Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools”!  Identify the knaves!)

George Orwell has been read continually from the 1940s up to 2017; and his reputation as a writer-critic is secure.  His books have not dated.  Totalitarianism has not disappeared.

On the whole, I believe that satire does not, in itself, cause political change; but it tends to raise the awareness of readers and audiences of the issues that impinge upon them (whether short or long term).  It acts as a corrective to lies and misinformation. It still has its uses.

 

 

 

 

 

Reflections on the UK House of Commons vote to “trigger” Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty

The UK is in a 27-1 situation. The EU is big enough to carry on without it, despite its own problems.
Perhaps the UK is in a Walter Mitty situation.
The UK only survived (“won”) the World Wars because of alliances, not on its own.
Continental countries were all invaded during these wars and suffered immensely, with the possible exception of Spain and Portugal. But Spain had a civil war, with foreign interventions.
So, continental countries see the value of European co-operation, almost instinctively.
The USA is big enough to survive more or or less OK, even if its reduces trade with Mexico and China (say). The UK is tiny by comparison – a speck on the horizon. With the ‘America First’ policy, any UK-USA trade deal is likely to be unequal. And of course, UK-EU trade is huge.
The UK will need to apply to rejoin the EU.  The terms will be strict.

Dulness, deceit and dunces; populism, priorities and prophecy

Populism and priorities

I used to think that populism was a good thing – the will of the people.  Now I have doubts.  It seems that populism represents a series of reactions to single issue problems.  It is likely to result in inconsistencies – trying to have your cake and eat it.  Object to wind turbines but still expect a cheap, reliable supply of electricity, for example.

“The language of priorities is the religion of socialism” – Aneurin Bevan (1949).  One could say, indeed, that the language of priorities is the language of politics.  But the present UK government chooses to underfund and to undermine public services.  Its priorities lie elsewhere – the maximisation of private profit.  The result is the concentration of wealth in a few hands.  (Trickle-down economics does not work.)

The world in 2017

I move on to British trade and foreign policy.  HM Government aims to abandon close ties with our European neighbours on our doorstep and to seek trade with countries far away.  The promises of success appear very dubious.

Today, Europe (including the UK) finds itself situated (sandwiched) between two powerful countries – Russia and the USA – between Putin and Trump – populist leaders.  Shouldn’t this be a factor in UK policy making?  Isn’t the UK safer, anchored in Europe?

Satire and prophecy

Satire appears inadequate to tackle this situation.  Over the centuries, satirists have bent their bows and let arrows fly.  Their admirers smile.  The people in power, targeted, ignore them or retaliate.  As time goes by, later readers fail to understand the context of the satire unless supplied with explanatory notes.

Despite this, I feel moved to draw upon satire – in particular, that of the English poet Alexander Pope (1688-1744).  I see parallels between his world and ours.

I refer to Pope’s long polemical and satirical poem, the Dunciad, where Pope creates a mock anti-goddess, who he calls “Dulness”.  She represents trends in society, politics and the media towards obscurantism, selfishness, greed, cliquishness and monopolisation of power – a dystopic vision of a world governed by dunces.

I associate ‘Dulness’, indeed, with certain 21st century trends, for example, “post-truth” and “fake news” (also known simply as lies).

The poem

Here I quote from the beginning and end of the final version of the Dunciad (1743), which depict first the return and then the ultimate triumph of Dulness, in 18th century London:

                            In eldest time….

Dulness o’er all possessed her ancient right,

Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night:

Fate in their dotage this fair Ideot gave,

Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave,

Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,

She ruled, in native Anarchy, the mind.

Still her old Empire to restore she tries,

For, born a Goddess, Dulness never dies.

 

[Book I, 9-18]

 

         She comes! She comes! The sable Throne behold

Of Night Primaeval, and of Chaos old!…

Nor public Flame, nor private, dares to shine;

Nor human Spark is left, nor Glimpse divine!

         Lo! Thy dread Empire, CHAOS! is restor’d;

Light dies before thy uncreating word:

Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;

And Universal Darkness buries All.

 

[Book IV: 651-656]

 

Evaluation

 

In my study of the writings of Alexander Pope, I rely largely on a slim volume of literary criticism (1989), produced by David Fairer, now professor of 18th century literature at Leeds University. In his chapter on the Dunciad, he comments: “In the world of Dulness there are no objective standards, no structures of ideas against which to measure the truth” [page 154].  (Does this sound familiar?)

 

David Fairer concludes his chapter with a warning:

 

Increasingly, we are coming to understand how the mad visions of the few, combined with the passive mindless of the many, could conceivably bring the end of the world.  The prophecies of The Dunciad are coming close to us, and it is becoming easier to discern a relationship between a pacifying mass culture (….), the growth of mass movements (….), and the concentration of power in the hands of a few charismatic leaders (….).  The pseudo-energy of Dulness, with her flagrant appeal to selfish instincts in the guise of freedom….is a principle which is still alive, and still threatens us. [Page 158]

 

Conclusion

 

David Fairer’s book was published in 1989, when the Berlin Wall came down and the old Cold War was coming to an end, and optimism pervaded the world.  See where we are now!

 

Pope’s and Fairer’s words are prophetic, indeed, and worth heeding.  We ignore them at our peril.

 

References

 

Butt, J (ed) (1963), The Poems of Alexander Pope (one-volume), London: Routledge.

 

Fairer, D (1989), The Poetry of Alexander Pope, Harmondsworth: Penguin.