The way I interpret Hermione thus far is as a very strong female character. She convinces Polixenes to stay longer where her husband could not, stands up for herself and for Polixenes’s wife when he seems to speak ill of women, and stands up for herself against her husband. She seems sassy and sarcastic, and thoroughly able to hold her own against the male characters of the play.

In Act I Scene II, she pretty much threatens (not entirely seriously) to keep Polixenes in Sicilia as a prisoner if he refuses to stay as a guest, and asserts that “A lady’s ‘verily’ is as potent as a lord’s” (50-51), matching her use of the word against his. This section of text shows her off as assertive in general terms of her ability to convince him, and in her willingness to verbally spar with him. The fact that she explicitly says that a woman’s word is just as good as a man’s, though, sets her up further as a strong female character and defender of women. She also does not speak in terms of herself, saying her “verily” is as potent as his; she speaks for “a lady” in general, which I think is much more telling of her character and her belief in her gender as a whole.

In the same scene, Polixenes implies that women are temptresses who lead men into sin, saying “Temptations have since then been born to’s” causing both he and Leontes to “trip”, or sin, the “temptations” specifically referring to Hermione and Polixenes’s own wife (75-80). Hermione interrupts him, saying “Grace to boot! / Of this make no conclusion, lest you say / Your queen and I are devils” (80-83). She, again, verbally spars with him and somewhat jokingly points out that he’s saying something offensive to her and his own wife, basically telling him not to finish what he’s started to say. Also yet again, she does not only defend herself, but includes his wife, this time making things more personal than speaking generally of all women as she did when she asserted that a woman’s word has just as much worth as a man’s word. This reminds me of some contemporary arguments (that are surrounded by some controversy) that men should respect women because they would want others to respect their wives, mothers, sisters, or daughters (thinking of women in relation to themselves as opposed to as human beings that deserve respect independently of their relationships to men). Despite the modern controversy, this type of personal argument, especially in such a world dominated by patriarchy, works in terms of garnering some kind of respectful treatment toward women.

Hermione also stands up for herself when her husband implies, pretty much, that she’s good for nothing. Leontes says, “Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok’st /To better purpose,” and she replies, “Never?” to which he answers, “Never but once” (1.2.85-90). Her response to this, the way I interpret it, is sarcastic and sassy: “What, have I twice said well? When was’t before? / I prithee tell me. Cram’s with praise and make’s / As fat as tame things.” (1.2.90-92). She is challenging her husband for saying that she’s only said or done anything of worth once before, (to me) mockingly (although lightly so) begging him to tell her what her previous achievement was, and fatten her up with praise, as if a single “compliment” would accomplish that. She also references her earlier “Grace to boot!” comment to Polixenes, saying of her first “good deed,” “Oh, would her name were Grace!” (1.2.97-99). The footnotes of the Norton suggest that “[she] may be countering Polixenes’ earlier suggestion that she first caused Leontes to sin” (3137), which is an interpretation I like because it goes along with the idea that she’s defending herself and women against the men’s misogyny.

In class, we discussed the name of the play, The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, and the fact that Julius Caesar himself is barely even in the play. One idea that we explored briefly was that “Caesar” was more of an event than a person, the catalyst for the main action of the play and all other tragedies to come.

Another of Shakespeare’s “tragedies” that came to mind while we were talking about it was The Tragedy of Macbeth. When I read Macbeth in a high school English class, we came up with the idea that Banquo, a secondary figure in the play, is the true tragic figure of the play, because he is the most honorable character (at least more so than Macbeth himself, who has a number of people killed in his quest for the throne). Similarly, the tragedy in Julius Caesar seems to be more focused on Brutus. The last conversation on the play is even about him and how honorable he was as a man. Antony says:

This was the noblest Roman of them all.

All the conspirators save only he

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;

He only in a general and honest thought

And common good to all made one of them. (5.5.68-72)

Antony emphasizes that, although he (obviously) disagreed with what Brutus did, Brutus participated in killing Caesar for the right reasons, and for what he truly believed was the good of the people. He even goes so far as to distinguish Brutus as “the noblest Roman of them all,” which technically includes Caesar among “them all,” showing how highly he viewed Brutus despite his actions. Octavius then offers Brutus “all respect and rights of burial” despite the fact that Brutus was on the opposite side of battle, and died by his own hand rather than in battle.

Something else that connects Brutus to the title, and implies that he is perhaps the tragic figure of the play, is the response of the plebeians to his speech about killing Caesar. They say, “Let him be Caesar” and “Caesar’s better parts / Shall be crowned in Brutus,” completely missing his entire point about why Caesar was killed (3.2.46-48). Brutus was wary of Caesar’s absolute rulership and was in favor of the Roman Republic, but the plebeians were proposing crowning Brutus just like they had wanted Caesar crowned. This goes back to the idea we talked about in class of Caesar as an idea—the idea of an emperor, the death of the Republic, or simply the event of his death itself as a catalyst. Brutus believed in something, namely the Republic, and wanted to do what was best for the people, but they completely misunderstood his purpose. Then, after Antony spoke, Brutus was put into exile even though he had only participated in the assassination plan “in general and honest thought/ And common good to all” (5.5.71-72), as Antony put it. Ultimately, too, the Roman Republic that Brutus fought for was still replaced by a single ruler system, which made the death of Caesar completely for nothing, and Brutus basically killed someone he cared for, as well as himself, for nothing.

One other thing that we discussed in class that makes Brutus tragic was Portia’s suicide. Brutus says, “O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs” (4.3.143) and divulges to him that Portia has killed herself “[i]mpatient of [his] absence”—because her husband, Brutus, is gone to battle and his opponents are strong (152). It’s entirely possible that he feels responsible for her death, but regardless, his wife killing herself is a difficult thing to handle emotionally. Something that was said in class pertaining to his response to Messala—acting like he didn’t know about his wife’s death as if he hadn’t just told Cassius about it—is that he might have been putting his grief aside, remaining publicly stoic as he so often must. This, to me, is definitely tragic, since he puts off feeling the true impact his wife’s death, and then ultimately dies himself with everything having been for nothing.

 

(Another notable similarity between Macbeth and Julius Caesar is the fixation on Fate and its impact, or believed lack thereof, although it’s off the topic of Brutus and I’ve run out of space to explore it further; plus, we haven’t read Macbeth in this class.)

We talked in class about women’s roles in Richard III as perhaps the viewpoints from the margins presenting a “feminine” alternative to history, and a way of mourning and recognizing suffering that King Richard III caused (and causes in the play). Queen Margaret and the Duchess of York are major examplesof characters who are able to recognize, call attention to, and, in ways, overcome the awfulness that Richard brings to the table. Lady Anne and Queen Elizabeth, however, are more in the center of things and tend to give in to Richard. Something that bothers me about the play (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing) is that Lady Anne disappears and is presumably somehow murdered by Richard, but there’s barely any mention of her death.

In 4.1 she’s summoned to be crowned, supposedly, and comments that Richard “will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me” (81). She anticipates Richard’s plan to discard her in some fashion, expecting and commenting on her own death, but follows his command anyway. The next mention of Anne is in 4.2. when Richard is himself crowned and tells Catesby: “Rumor it abroad / That Anne my wife is sick and like to die; / I will take order for her keeping close” (48-50). I think it’s safe to assume that Anne is not sick, but Richard is concerned with having people “abroad” think that she is. He also wants her to be kept close, which the footnotes in the Norton translate to “I will arrange to have her kept out of sight,” which, if she needs to be “kept out of sight,” indicates that she’s not as much on her deathbed as he’s claiming her to be. I also think it’s interesting that he repeats himself in the same stretch of mini-monologue: “Look how thou dream’st! I say again, give out / That Anne my wife is sick and like to die” (54-55). Then he has an aside where he says he must marry Elizabeth of York. The “Look how thou dream’st!” comment makes it seem like Catesby seems either shocked or to not be paying attention, warranting repetition. If he’s shocked, it’s for good reason, because it’s a very strange request that makes it clear that Anne is in danger of Richard. Also, the direct repetition of the line (which I feel like has happened a lot in Richard III and hasn’t happened in most of the other plays we’ve read, so I can see why people think that the first tetralogy might not have been written by Shakespeare) about Anne does something in terms of emphasis that I think ironizes, in a way, what he’s saying. It makes me think of the line from Hamlet, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” meaning his insistence that she’s ill and dying makes it very clear that she’s definitely not ill or dying.

It’s also barely apparent that she’s died. In 4.3., Richard is going through everyone he’s gotten rid of: “The son of Clarence have I pent up close. / His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage. / The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom, / And Anne my wife hath bid the world goodnight.” (36-39). The context of the others that he’s basically disposed of makes it clear that he had something to do with Anne’s death, even though it doesn’t fully acknowledge that she’s been killed because he says it so casually. He doesn’t even take responsibility for Anne’s death—she’s the one doing the action in the line, bidding the world goodnight, similarly to the way he talks about Edward’s sons and how they “sleep.” I think it’s interesting that he’s using sleep to minimize the severity of deaths that he’s caused here.

Part of what bothers me about the situation with Anne, I think, and by extension about the situation with Elizabeth of York, is that we see Richard earlier in the play apparently convincing Anne of his love for her, claiming that he killed her husband and father in law because of her beauty and his love for her. For starters, it’s extremely clear that he doesn’t actually love her since he was so eager to dispose of her, so the fact that she “believed” him for that argument (even if it was her own notion of self-preservation and not some kind of gullibility that made her agree to marry him) is bothersome. He also makes the exact same argument of “love” to Queen Elizabeth about her daughter: “I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter / And mean to make her queen of England” (4.4.236-237). It almost makes the two—Anne and Elizabeth—seem weak for falling for his tricks (even though I don’ t think they’ve truly fallen for anything), especially because Elizabeth is aware of what happened to Anne (Elizabeth says in the argument that Richard “Mad’st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne” (4.4.256), which is translated to “Got rid of”). I wonder how Shakespeare’s original audience might have taken these characters’ actions (and how they was intended to be taken).

 

 

 

(Other things that I think are worth mentioning but have already gone overboard talking about are the repeated lines that liken death to sleep—Catesby “dream’st”, Edward’s sons “sleep”, and Anne “hath bid the world goodnight”—and the possible significance of that; as well as Queen Margaret and the Duchess of York’s roles in the whole situation in relation/comparison to Anne and Elizabeth.)

The relationship between Iago and Emilia is the most interesting, to me, in this play. We’ve talked a little in class about Iago’s motivations for basically being the most evil character we’ve read about, and the only thing that he himself has said to direct us to an answer (though it’s still not a very satisfactory one, at least to me) regards his wife. He claims that Othello slept with his wife: “For that I do suspect the lusty Moor / Hath leaped into my seat, the thought whereof / Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards” (2.1.278-280). The jealous rage that he plans to put Othello in is his revenge for this perceived act.

Emilia says, when she gives the handkerchief to Iago: “What will you do with’t, that you have been so earnest / To have me filch it?” (3.3.310-315—these citations are going to be approximations because the line numbers in my edition are odd). There is no one on stage other than the two of them at this point in the scene, so they are not performing for anyone: Emilia is truly not plotting with Iago. When he skirts her question by asking why she needs to know, she says: “If it be not for some purpose of import, / Give’t me again. Poor lady, she’ll run mad/ When she shall lack it” (3.3.314-316). The fact that she asks for the handkerchief back and seems to be worried about Desdemona’s state when she realizes that it is missing makes it clear that she’s not doing this for malicious purposes, but for some misguided loyalty to her husband.

Later, after Othello has called Desdemona a whore, it seems like Emilia might at least have a vague inkling about Iago’s plot (not that she approves of it). She says to both Iago and Desdemona: “The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave, / Some base, notorious knave, some scurvy fellow” (4.2.138-39). Her audience in this makes it seem to me that she’s aware that Iago is manipulating Othello, since she is the one suggesting that “some most villainous knave” is “abus[ing]” Othello. If she were involved in the plot, there would be no need to suggest to Desdemona that there was someone whispering in Othello’s ear and making him act the way that he has been acting. Clearly Emilia cares about her lady, especially based on her interaction with Iago in Act III, although it’s also possible that she’s just saying these things for her husband’s benefit. The next few lines include an aside from Emilia to Iago: “Some such squire he was / That turned your wit the seamy-side without, / And made you to suspect me with the Moor” (4.2.144-146). This brings me back to the handkerchief: does Emilia think she has something to make up for to Iago, or does she want to placate him because he thinks that she cheated on him? She is also angry, though, since she refers to him (assuming, as I think it is safe to, that she is aware that he is the one causing Othello to act out) as a “villainous” and “base, notorious knave.”

Perhaps a more interesting idea than the general relationship between Emilia and Iago, though, is how the situation between them mirrors the situation between Desdemona and Othello. Iago believes, mistakenly, that Emilia and Othello have had an affair. As a result, he enacts an entire manipulative plot to get Othello to kill his wife, and we as an audience perceive him as completely evil with no legitimate reason behind it. Othello is convinced, also mistakenly, that Desdemona is having an affair. As a result, he becomes mad with rage and (spoiler alert) murders her. Both men have been convinced of something false, and act not-at-all-accordingly, since they take things much too far with their anger. Both of their wives appear to be good people who are more willing to stay with their husbands than they should be considering how badly they end up being treated.

 

I think Antonio is a really interesting character in Twelfth Night, at least partially because of a theory that I saw mentioned online; someone pointed out that Shakespeare has used the name “Antonio” a fair amount in his plays, and posited that all of the characters are the same (so the Antonio from Twelfth Night would represent the same character as the Antonio from Merchant of Venice, to name the only example I’m actually familiar with). I know we haven’t read Merchant of Venice for this class, so the only relevant thing in regard to this theory and what I find interesting is that that Antonio is also involved in a “friendship” with another man that seems to be so much more. As such, when I started reading Twelfth Night, I immediately caught on to the relationship between Antonio and Sebastian.

One scene in particular that I noticed (when looking at it for the “Exercises” during class) was at the end of 3.3 when Antonio is giving Sebastian his “purse.” We discussed in groups the different possible meanings to the word, and the implications of Sebastian declaring himself Antonio’s “purse-bearer,” but I wanted to write about the context a little more and point out what I think is pretty convincing evidence that there is something going on between Sebastian and Antonio. They plan to meet up at the inn, “the Elephant,” which in Shakespeare’s time (according to the footnotes) actually existed and was “notorious for its many brothels” (Norton 3^rd Edition 1950). Antonio says to Sebastian: “There you shall have me” (3.3.42). Considering the context of prostitutes that Shakespeare’s audience would have doubtless been aware of, I think this line can be read in a sexual way as Antonio promising himself to Sebastian. I think Antonio’s next words, regarding his giving the purse to Sebastian, support this idea as well: “Haply your eye shall light upon some toy / You have desire to purchase, and your store, / I think is not for idle markets, sir” (3.3.44-46). He is saying, the way I see it, that the money should not be wasted on a prostitute (“some toy” or “idle markets”) because he himself will be available in that capacity to Sebastian later.

As we talked about in class, there wasn’t a way of defining homosexuality in terms of identity during Shakespeare’s time. However, I think Antonio’s feelings for Sebastian definitely resemble what we think of in modern times, even though Sebastian, based on his willingness to marry Olivia as soon as she shows up with a priest, doesn’t seem to return those feelings as strongly. When Antonio interferes in the fight between Viola (as Cesario) and Sir Andrew, thinking he is defending Sebastian, he is arrested and then speaks of Sebastian: “I snatched one half out of the jaws of death, / Relieved him with such sanctity of love” (3.4.327-328). The idea that he saved Sebastian by virtue of his love for him definitely seems to have at least romantic undertones. He also, in this scene, remarks on Sebastian’s “good feature” (333), or physical beauty. The emphasis on love and attraction here when Antonio feels he has been betrayed (since Viola has no clue who he is and he thinks she is Sebastian feigning ignorance) portrays him as feeling like more of a jilted lover than a mere friend. Even though we can’t really apply our modern definition of homosexuality to Antonio, I think he definitely has strong feelings toward Sebastian (and that Shakespeare’s grappling with ideas about sexual identity is evident in a lot of his plays, particularly considering the focus point of the character Antonio).

One thing that I latched on to when reading Acts I and II of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and doing the reading questions was the play that the artisans are planning on performing for Theseus and Hippolyta’s wedding and the apparent dysfunction between romantically involved characters (which their chosen play reflects). Does “The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisbe” (1.2.9-10) seem an appropriate story for a wedding celebration? I think not, but I do think that it’s an appropriate choice for Shakespeare to have made considering the plots involved in Midsummer. As Lysander says (rather famously), “The course of true love never did run smooth” (1.1.134).

The main focus points of A Midsummer Night’s Dream are couples (and prospective couples)—Theseus and Hippolyta, who are to be married in four days from the very beginning of the play; Hermia and Demetrius, between whom Egeus attempts to establish a match even though his daughter is in love with Lysander and not with Demetrius; Hermia and Lysander, who plan to run away in order to be together; Helena and Demetrius, an example of unrequited love and a woman pursuing a man in an unconventional way; Helena and Lysander, who we see at the end of Act II after Lysander is influenced by the love potion; and Titania and Oberon, the Fairy Queen and King who are having problems. Something that all of these couples have in common is the way that, in some way or another, their relationships have serious problems, such as obstacles to their relationships or (or develop serious problems by virtue of the love potion that Puck uses).

An example (because there are many throughout the part of the text that we’ve read so far) of negativity in relationships is in that of Theseus and Hippolyta. Despite their apparent mutual anticipation for their “nuptial hour” (1.1.1) and the four days to it that both Theseus and Hippolyta mention, at least one negative aspect of their union is mentioned. Theseus says: “Hippolyta, I wooed thee with my sword / And won thy love doing thee injuries” (1.1.16-17). The fact that he sees her as a conquest, and, according to the footnotes of the Norton edition, literally captured her “in his military conquest of the Amazons” shows a darker side of their relationship. My point is that it is not nearly as perfect as the very first lines make it seem, which is also made clear by the fact that the play that is to be performed at their wedding is the story of Pyramus and Thisbe.

The source of “The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisbe” is a story in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (which I read in a class my first semester at New Paltz) in which Pyramus and Thisbe, coming from rival families, fall in love and plan to run away together; Pyramus arrives at their meeting place to see a lion, and, assuming the lion has killed Thisbe, stabs himself, and when Thisbe arrives and sees him dead, she stabs herself in turn. The obstacle of their “rival families” (which is definitely an idea that Shakespeare picked up again in Romeo and Juliet) ultimately ended in the tragedy of their deaths. I think it’s significant that Shakespeare chose to include this tale, a “most lamentable comedy” in a story where he places so many obstacles in front of couples in order to create his own (more entertaining than lamentable) comedy. To repeat almost verbatim, as Lysander says, “The course of true love never did run smooth” (1.1.134), and the presence of Pyramus and Thisbe as characters in a play to be performed in this play only adds to this idea.