One moment that I may read differently is Act V Scene I Lines 33-87: the speech in which Prospero gives up his magic. At first, I read it as a metaphor for Shakespeare retiring from theatre, but after reading this essay I view it more as a giving up of power as one is surrounded not by incentives, but of the situations and people that gave him the illusory of control doing things that he views were not directly inflicted by him. In other words, his previous inclination of having absolute control has been broken by having too much control. He was able to correctly influence and control everything on the island, from Ferdinand’s libido to the tempest of Act I. He recognizes the futility of having too much control and the ironic life it has given him, pushing him to give up magic. The other part I may read differently is the whole beginning of Act I Scene II, where Prospero describes to Miranda the story of how they came on the island. Prospero very much tries to identify himself as a fallen hero and that Antonio was merely a usurper – greatly influencing Miranda. At first reading, it could be interpreted that he’s doing just that: trying to influence her; but after reading the article, I realize that it’s Prospero trying to convince himself that he is powerful and that what happened to him was part of his grand design and he has more control that he is willing to admit to himself. He imagines himself as an evolving thinker and attempts to portray his fall from dukedom as an insult to his power, authority, and intelligence; as we see, he succeeds with Miranda.

I would say that I agree with the author. I find his points on power, authority, and the lack of a female figurehead to be very pervasive. The historical acknowledgement and analysis/comparison toward Elizabeth and James’s rules find no anachronism. However, a chief issue with the article is the author’s extreme lack of outside sources and frequent reference to his person. The bibliography is short, with citations only to political/literary fact; the author makes no motion to attack or support his argument with similar arguments from contemporary texts. Too much personal reference also takes away from the literary value; the author frequently reflects to his own self-experience, which I found to be incredibly annoying (ex: “I want to pause over what it means to consider the play as a case history.” (page 3).

At the same time, however, certain aspects of the play take back these characteristics. Antony’s horrendous display of militaristic pride and self-control at the sea battle when Cleopatra attempts to sail away portray him as weak, timid, and undeniably pathetic. What kind of strong, courageous Roman leaves the tides of a won war to fly for a bride? Antony’s misplaced manhood casts him as an anachronism in Roman culture. Similarly, Cleopatra’s (for lack of euphemism) pathetic whining and constant complaining throughout the entire play is extremely tiresome and presents a very jaded view of the character. The most striking example of this can be seen when Antony’s wife died and his lack of showing remorse bothered Cleopatra into becoming paranoid over whether or not Antony would care if she died. Her reaction is ridiculous: of course Antony wouldn’t be entire despondent because now he has the opportunity to completely devote himself to Cleopatra, and secondly not all persons reflect what they feel on the outside. Her droning and constant paranoia is ironic in a land of palm trees and exquisiteness; if a “vacation” (as said by the other triumvirates) is supposed to help you forget your worries, then why does it only cause more of them?

In Othello, North Africa is depicted as being primordial and almost a bit wicked in Othello’s graphic description and intense character. Antony and Cleopatra is almost entirely different in this regard. Egypt is depicted, as stated before, like a vacation. Instead of the rash and shrewd demeanor given to it in Shakespeare’s earlier work, Cleopatra’s Egypt is much more sublime. Othello comes from a strong, princely background with numerous wars and heroic deeds under his belt; Cleopatra is merely an idle empress blind to the ruin of her empire. As for ethnicity, Othello very much contains racist undertones, but in Antony and Cleopatra, the worries lie more in diplomacy and political affairs than race. Desdemona and Othello’s relationship starts out wonderful and beautiful, becoming strained only when Iago plants the seed of doubt; Antony and Cleopatra start out rocky and remain rocky throughout the entire play.

Work compared: Matz

Note: Sorry for the length, Dr. Hand. There was just so much stuff I could write about that I didn’t want to leave out anything important.

Matz’s article concerns the issue of homosexual relationships in Othello and the mirroring effect it has on political agendas within the military. His underlying thesis is that the entire conflict of the play is a result of the homosexual tensions amongst the men, a sorry factor that Desdemona ultimately became the final chess piece in. In particular is the relationships noted between Cassio and Iago and the seemingly unrequited love that Iago harbors for the lieutenant. In one piece, Matz analyzes the passage in which Iago tells Othello of the sexual dream that Cassio had for Desdemona one night when Iago and Cassio were lying with each other – a significant sexual undertone, in the eyes of the author. Furthermore, the article goes to state that sexuality between men can be used as a basis for political attack; in another example, Matz points out the passage in the beginning of Othello where Iago makes the statement that “an old black ram is tupping your white ewe” as being suggestive of the “unnatural” relationship between Desdemona and  Othello. However, this brings up another question – for whom is it unnatural? In Venice, it was customary that a head of the military be a foreigner to keep corruption within the state minimized, so interracial relationships certainly weren’t unheard of (especially in a port city such as Venice). Is Iago suggesting that it is unnecessary and unnatural for a black man and white woman to be together, or does he fear that a woman will compromise the military?

The author views the Othello through the viewpoint of Elizabethan relationships and in comparison to other works and facts of Shakespeare’s time. In one passage he compares the anxieties surrounding marriage in Othello to The Winter’s Tale, remarking on the similarities between the nervosa of outside courtiers. His work echoes that of Alan Bray in his article “Homosexuality and the Signs of Male Friendship in Elizabethan England.” Like Matz, Bray believes that the sexual tensions between the military ranks and the presence of a woman in the state affairs is what defined the conflict in Othello, not merely Cassio’s promotion over Iago.

One of the lines of the play that stands out to me most now is after Cassio’s dismissal as an officer following his brawl with Roderigo in Act II Scene III; the line “Cassio, I love the/But never more be an officer of mine” (Lines 231-231). Upon my first reading of Othello, I thought that the usage of the word “love” referred to the brotherly bonds shared between the men, but if the implications raised in Matz’s article are true, then the “love” between them could refer to a much more intimate bond. This would completely alter the perception of the rest of the events of the play: as the bonds between Cassio and Desdemona grow stronger in Othello’s eyes, he now has to deal with two lovers of his sharing intimacies, a completely different and more powerful image. Another factor in the play that changes is Iago’s relationships with Emilia, especially the circumstances surrounding her death in Act V Scene II, around line 242. Iago’s sordid and sadistic response to his wife’s reaction toward Desdemona’s death raises eyebrows on its own, but the homosexual tensions between Othello and Iago make it even more questionable. Iago is in a blind rage of revenge; compound it with a masochistic sexual fury at seeing his lovers die and you have a man on the verge of a psychotic break. Emilia’s revealing of the plan in lines 200-250 becomes the straw that breaks the camel’s back, leading Iago to kill her. His silence and self-loathing at the end of the play reveal the extent of his psychosis; since the play began, Iago’s been fighting with himself over his sexuality; the end of Act V reveals to us his true nature that he’s been trying to find all along: the core of a broken man.

Matz certainly raises several interesting points about the nature of Othello. Being my favorite play out of all of Shakespeare’s works, I find the points he makes to be a great illuminator on the nature of the relationships between the men, although I find his claims of sodomy and sex to be a little too extreme. In the case of Iago, I believe that Matz does a great job at revealing his true nature and it answers many questions toward Iago’s psychosis and mental breakdown in Act V. The argument is very straightforward and impressive, but I believe that the Matz’s opinion on sodomy to be too much. For example, his claim that marriage is “a new negative pressure on male-male desire, which can now only be represented as a rite of homage that takes the place of ‘natural’ married relations” is ludicrous and insulting toward the play. Othello and Iago are not stupid men; they are incredibly cunning and shrewd and acknowledge the points of their relationships; presenting the belief that homosexual relationships between men is a rite of passage is demeaning the value and intellect of Shakespeare’s characters.

Note: I do not have a copy of Homer’s Odyssey, so I cannot support my claims with quotes from the text. However, I studied Odysseus my freshman year of high school in Edith Hamilton’s Mythology and Homer’s Odyssey, as well as in individual readings outside of the classroom. To me, Odysseus is one of the , if not only, most praiseworthy character in all of literature.

Shakespeare and Homer both use a singularly important historical figure in each man’s epics: Odysseus (named “Ulysses” in Shakespeare’s writings). Odysseus is present in Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida and Homer’s The Iliad and Odyssey, under similar and different conditions and temperaments. Troilus and Cressida sees Odysseus during the Trojan War, while Odyssey recounts Odysseus’s tale as he returns home from the War.

A striking similarity of Odysseus in either man’s representation of him is his shrewdness and audacity. In Odyssey, Odysseus vainly has his crew tie him up to a ship’s beam refuse to plug his ears with wax as they row past the Sirens so that he may here their call; a clear sign of his sense of adventure and curiosity, as well as his cheek. This event characterizes his bold side as he knows the danger that the Sirens pose to himself and his men; if he got loose from the post, his story could very well have ended on that stanza.

Likewise, Odysseus’s encouragement of the Greek generals to kiss Cressida in greeting her appearance at the camp to expose her as a fraud/whore in Act 4 Scene 6 (“Yet is the kindness but particular; ‘Twere better she were kissed in general”, Lines 21-22) reflects upon his shrewd, almost bombastic qualities. He very well knows the implications that this causes for Troilus and the generals’ infatuations for Cressida, yet seeks to expound upon her infidelity to prove her effect upon the men (“Fie, fie upon her! … And daughters of the game”, Lines 56-64). And yet he does not kiss her, for he foresees the events that unfold and Cressida’s promiscuous tendencies.

However, a main difference between the Odysseus of Homer and Shakespeare is his view on the war. Homer’s Odysseus has an extremely negative view on the war; he wanted no part of the war in Troy. His son Telemachus had just been born and the prolonged separation from his wife eats at him. His rage is so violent that at the end of Odyssey he murders every suitor that attempted to woo his wife Penelope. At multiple points in the epic he relapses, as seen in his affairs with Calypso and Circe (although the power of these demi-goddesses is what contained him, the affairs he had with either highlights his own underlying instabilities). The war changes him. He becomes more wrathful and despondent as Odyssey continues; he becomes almost a tragic hero.

Conversely, the Odysseus of Shakespeare gives off the impression that he’s having a cynically good time. He frequently puns on the other generals and makes witty asides and references to their own inabilities (especially seen in Act 2, Scene 3, Lines 148-252; where Odysseus attempts to convince Ajax to be the fighter against Hector). Indeed, he almost seems as if he is the only general whose head isn’t completely in the clouds (a fact he ironically exposes in his aforementioned discourse with Agamemnon). The only context that could possibly be given to be his missing and remembrance of home is his reluctance of kissing Cressida, as if she reminds him of Penelope in Ithaca.

Works Used:

Odyssey by Homer

The aspect of this class I’ve enjoyed the most so far is our huge breadth and grasp of all aspects of Shakespeare – not just the big ones like Hamlet and Macbeth. I had never had the opportunity to analyze and learn about Shakespeare’s other texts, especially the lesser-known comedies and sonnets. The class’s natural inclination toward learning the entirety of Shakespeare’s works is what really drives me in my studies. I feel happy to know that when I leave that class I’ll have a complete understanding of Shakespeare instead of the four or five plays everyone reads.

The text I’ve enjoyed the most so far is Richard II. I’m very interested in International Affairs and History, so when I saw what our first play would be, I became very excited. I had taken AP European History my senior year of high school too, so I understood a lot of the historical puns that Shakespeare put in the play. The texts I’ve found the most challenging so far have probably been the comedies simply because I’m not yet able to comprehend Elizabethan humor. Following that, Twelfth  Night has been the most difficult play for me so far simply because I haven’t been able to grasp the cultural in-jokes and other factors that Shakespeare places inside of his text. I can’t really say that my knowledge Shakespeare has been implemented in any of my other classes this semester, save for analyzing Shakespeare’s use of iambic pentameter in my Music Theory class when we were learning how beats and syncopation worked. I’m hoping that in the future I’ll be able to use this knowledge to my advantage in future literature classes; the techniques I’ve learned so far will certainly come in handy!

The prince described by Machiavelli in his famous work The Prince and Richard II in Shakespeare’s eponymous history play both observe similar traits concerning the duties of a ruler and his treatment of the peoples. Machiavelli stated that a ruler should be clever as a fox and strong as a lion in order to at least portray the image of a shrewd monarch; although somewhat lacking the second department (leading to his downfall), Richard II is seen as being both strong and cunning in his approaches toward the state (as viewed in the opening dispute between Bolingbroke and Moubray and his triumph over the Irish). However, Richard II also lacks a key feature defined by Machiavelli as the mark of a good leader: the ability to “mask this nature skillfully and be a great dissembler.” Richard II had a talent for kingmanship, but his eagerness, cockiness, and over-indulgence in the affairs of the state and others eventually brought him down. For example, if he had not been so earnest in seizing Bolingbroke’s estate upon his banishment, then perhaps Bolingbroke may not have acted so rashly in return.

A chief symbol used by both men in their descriptions of their eponymous characters is the metaphor of a powerful ruler to a lion. Machiavelli utilized lions to symbolize the physical strength found in rulers; Shakespeare’s metaphor relates to the underlying strength of the monarchy. Ironically, Richard II’s focus on his monarchical strength and lack of forethought eventually brought him down, a connection referenced to by Machiavelli in his statement that a prince should have the strong qualities of a lion, while also having the wit of a fox.

The largely contemporary view of Early Modern monarchy has always been seen as rich, splendid castles with brave, courageous kings fighting for all that is chivalrous; as Machiavelli and Shakespeare show us, such is not the case. In reality, the monarchy was a shrewd position, characterized by keeping the visage of truth and faith while working underneath it all to keep a firm check over the state. Machiavelli’s belief that a ruler must keep the guise of a true man while being “ready to take the way of evil” and Richard II’s blatant undermining of the contemporary chivalrous nature of the Early Modern period prove that the altruistic perceptions we have of that culture are not well-founded, as rulers are in no way shape or form in direct contract to keeping an honest government. A ruler must do what he has to do to maintain order; therefore, kingmanship is not a Christmas banquet, but a con where the pork is sour and every man keeps a dagger in his pocket.

The relationship between the king and his courtiers in both The Prince and Richard II is barely the noble title we see them as. For both, courtiers, barons, and nobles alike are pawns to be played with. Richard II immediately seized the estate of his once-trusted Bolingbroke, as if the ties of nobility meant nothing. Machiavelli’s prince would do nothing different, except perhaps be a little less blatant about it, as it was this disregard for the nobility that ended Richard II in the first place. The relationship toward the governed people is no different; if the peasants suit the need of the king, then let them be fruitful in their exploits, as it’ll assist the monarchy in the long run.