The Detriments of Class Struggle and Preservation in Wuthering Heights

            As a novel written during the Victorian era, Emily Brontë's intensely class conscious novel Wuthering Heights is a story of defending and improving one's social and economic class.  The houses of Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange are separate entities in both geography and class. By showing the two as completely different, Brontë emphasizes their differences as well as the desire of those in lower positions to rise to a greater one.  The effect of this desire to rise to a greater position results in an upward push from those at the bottom, like Heathcliff, and a desire to preserve this position against those who would attempt to attain it for themselves.  As a vicious cycle of class plays out through the novel, the novel presents this self serving desire as negative.  The vindictive actions of Heathcliff throughout the novel can be traced through all of the situations of his childhood that placed a focus on class and placed him beneath someone else.  Because Heathcliff's struggles with class result in misery for nearly every character of the novel, Brontë presents the view that the cycle of capitalist improvement and preservation is ultimately detrimental to those who take part in it. 

            As the novel begins, the wealthy Mr. Lockwood rents Thrushcross Grange, an impressive estate that far surpasses in elegance that of his landlord's dwelling, Wuthering Heights.   The servants Nelly, Zillah, and Joseph contrast with their masters the Earnshaws and the Lintons.  Those who show signs of work, such as Hareton with his "ruddy countenance" (100), crude manners, and laborer's physique are contrasted against those who are pale, slender, and well-mannered.  Heathcliff, as a young child, is brought to the Earnshow household as an orphan, dirty and malnourished from his time living in the streets.  The novel's consistent establishment and comparison of these conditions of wealth and class is indicative of the opinions of the residents of both houses.  These ideas are paramount in the minds of all who live on the moors. 

            The contrasts of wealth and high social class with that of the lower helps to identify society's opinion of class.  Lighter features that denote a life filled with leisure are most desirable.  Nelly notes that after Catherine's time spent at Thrushcross Grange, she has become more attractive as she observes how Catherine was "pulling off her gloves, and displaying fingers wonderfully whitened with doing nothing and staying indoors" (49).  Similarly, Catherine notes her admiration for the "brightness of Isabella’s yellow hair and the whiteness of her skin, at her dainty elegance" (90).  Heathcliff's own desire to better himself comes from this contrast, as Catherine notes "It was only that you looked odd.  If you wash your face and brush your hair, it will be all right: but you are so dirty!" (50).  To be accepted among these people he must cultivate an appearance that is agreeable to a person of their status.  His desire to climb the social and economic ladder is rooted in a desire to level the socio-economic scales between himself and Catherine.

            The actions that each character takes for the purpose of improving or preserving economic status almost always result in a negative scenario.  Heathcliff's desire at the beginning of the novel is an unnecessary preservation of his wealth.  Nelly remarks to Lockwood that Heathcliff "has nobody knows what money, and every year it increases.  Yes, yes, he’s rich enough to live in a finer house than this: but he’s very near—close-handed . . . he could not have borne to miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more.  It is strange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!" (31).  He is overly rich, and yet forces Hareton Earnshaw into ignorance and hard labor that is unnecessary.  He does this in order to preserve his wealth by keeping Hareton from staking a claim to the property and wealth he has claimed. 

            Heathcliff's reasons for attaining wealth are rooted in his lower class beginnings.  Not only does the contrast between himself and the upper class of the Lintons serve to turn him into a victim, but his motivation of revenge serves to turn others into victims as well.  He seeks revenge for the times he has been excluded, including his forced work in the fields and the Lintons' denial of his entry into their home when Catherine is injured.  His marriage to Isabella and his upward economic movement are a thinly veiled attempt at grasping further power upon the Linton and Earnshaw households.  His reasons for doing so are rooted in revenge and economics, leaving the residents of Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange to suffer his revenge and Isabella to suffer through a cruel marriage devoid of happiness.

            Heathcliff's upward mobility is cause for problems for everyone in the novel, and his revenge is triggered by the same class he seeks to obtain.  His origins growing up at Wuthering Heights are wrought with rejection based upon his birth as Mrs. Earnshaw asks "how he could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns to feed and fend for?" (34).  She is ready to turn the boy away.  Hindley, too, is consumed with jealousy and treats Heathcliff cruelly based on his birth.  Those around him, aside from Mr. Earnshaw, take great pains to separate Heathcliff from the rest of the Earnshaws and position him as an other.  While he is rejected by many, it is Hindley who plays the greatest part in triggering Heathcliff's revenge. 

            Hindley's jealousy is stoked by Heathcliff's social status.  Class plays a major role in Hindley's treatment and ultimately his injury and demise at the hands of Heathcliff.  As one who believes he is entitled to his position by birth, he believes Heathcliff to be an outsider who threatens to take what rightfully belongs to him.   He treats him badly because he sees him as a poor vagabond who has no place within the family and has no entitlement to their luxuries. Hindley regards Heathcliff as a "usurper of his parent’s affections and his privileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries" (36).  Keeping Heathcliff down, and forcing him into labor as he later does to Hareton, is not simply an act of jealousy, but an act of preservation.  This desire to maintain the status quo eventually causes him great injury both mentally and physically. 

            As soon as Wuthering Heights is left in the hands of Hindley, he takes steps to reduce Heathcliff's place: "He drove him from their company to the servants, deprived him of the instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labour out of doors instead; compelling him to do so as hard as any other lad on the farm." (42).  Catherine expresses her disapproval of Hindley's actions as she says "Poor Heathcliff!  Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won’t let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders" (21).  Hindley "swears he will reduce him to his right place" (21), determined to turn him back into the lower class that he was born into.

            While Hindley may be overtly cruel to Heathcliff, Catherine is perhaps the most sympathetic.  Catherine, however, is consumed by the same need to preserve and improve her economic status as the rest of the characters, and plays a vital role in Heathcliff's motivation for revenge.  Catherine's feelings for Heathcliff are complicated by class.  She loves him but does not believe he can give her a life comparable to what Edgar Linton is capable of giving her.  She claims  "I’ve no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn’t have thought of it.  It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him" (73-74).  Catherine refuses to marry Heathcliff, and instead opts to marry Edgar Linton in order to position herself in a wealthy and upper class home.  Her refusal of Heathcliff is indicative of her desire to preserve and improve her socio-economic status, but has the side effect of forcing her to choose a man she does not love.  This mostly economic choice has a detrimental effect upon both Catherine and Heathcliff. 

            The Linton family plays an equally negative part in Heathcliff's childhood by treating him as a person of lower class and awakening his class consciousness.  As the Linton children visit Wuthering Heights, they see fit to exclude Heathcliff.  They demonstrate their desire to preserve their class by allowing Catherine into their home after her injury, but not Heathcliff.  Isabella immediately attempts to paint him as different and repulsive by claiming "Frightful thing!  Put him in the cellar, papa.  He’s exactly like the son of the fortune-teller that stole my tame pheasant.  Isn’t he, Edgar?” (46).  Avoiding association with the lower classes, for the Lintons, becomes a form of protecting your own status.  The Lintons see Heathcliff as a de-civilizing force.  Mrs. Linton sees the young boy's coarse language as a deep concern that threatens to corrupt her family.  She calls him "A wicked boy, at all events" (47).  For this reason, she denies him entry into their home, but shows a class separation by allowing Catherine in.  In doing so, they contribute to Heathcliff's rage and the ultimate effects of his revenge upon their progeny.  Upon bringing her into the house, Mrs. Linton notes her disdain for Catherine mingling with one such as Heathcliff: “Miss Earnshaw scouring the country with a gipsy!  And yet, my dear, the child is in mourning—surely it is—and she may be lamed for life!” (46). 

            Heathcliff's entire life is filled with tragedy as a result of his birth.  His birth is a direct cause of his treatment by the inhabitants of Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange and causes Heathcliff to grow into a bitter and resentful man.  The complications of class cause Heathcliff to act out the tragedy of his life upon those around him.  His awareness of class issues becomes increasingly more acute with each episode that separates him from those around him.  It is common for those characters who maintain the status quo to ignore subtlety and bluntly put down those below them.  When Heathcliff is reminded of his station in life, it is often done in an angry or offensive manner.  The Linton children, their parents, Hindley, and Catherine set in motion a string of extremely unpleasant events.  Hindley's attempt to keep Heathcliff ignorant (and Heathcliff's later similar treatment of Hareton), is a byproduct of trying to preserve status.  Keeping him in a low position is an attempt to keep him ignorant and prevent him from becoming anything more than a laborer, but also teaches him how to treat the future generation in the same way.  Treating Heathcliff poorly as a child creates a monster that returns in adulthood as a harbinger of the unpleasant effects of the spurning of the lower class.

Works Cited

Brontë, Emily. Wuthering Heights. Longman, 2007. Print.

Thematic Disparity in Arnold's "Dover Beach" and Browning's "My Last Duchess"

            As two prime examples of the genre of dramatic monologue, Matthew Arnold's "Dover Beach" and Robert Browning's "My Last Duchess" adhere in similar ways to the conventions of the form.  By paying special attention to situation and addressing a silent listener, the single speaker of a dramatic monologue inadvertently relates details about himself through the poem.  The monologues are set in specific situations and settings that play a vital role in the interpretation of the monologue. Arnold's speaker reflects upon the cliffs of Dover, while Browning's speaker is surrounded his impressive art collection.  Each of the speakers relate their thoughts to the silent listener.  The speaker of "Dover Beach" reveals to his listener his insecurities and doubts of society, while the duke of "My Last Duchess" reveals the cruel nature of his personality.  While their forms share similarities, the two differ radically in thematic style.  Arnold's dramatic monologue adheres more to the reflective manner of romantic poets such as  William Wordsworth, shedding light upon the speaker's thoughts and concerns, while Browning (as with many of his other dramatic monologues) serves the purpose of exposing the speaker's dark and morally corrupt personality. While very similar in their adherence to structure and form, the poems differ radically in the personality and the development of the speaker.

            By giving special care to crafting the scene, the convention of the dramatic monologue is followed by both poets.  "Dover Beach" begins by noting that "The sea is calm to-night" (1), setting up a meditative mood.  Arnold's setting implies a vast world full of wonder.  The image of the sea cliffs of Dover brings a slow contemplative mood to the poem.  A calm sea becomes a place of thinking.  The speaker suggests there is much to contemplate within nature as the tide hits the "cliffs of England" (4) that are "Glimmering and vast" (5).  The mention of the "moon-blanched land" (8) implies a cosmic connotation, while the light from the French coast gives a sense that even in nature society still looms on the horizon. 

            The action of "My Last Duchess" begins in a place of manufactured beauty.  The scene immediately gives clues into the character of the duke.  He walks though the gallery showing off his collection to a visitor he appears to barely know.  It is a place the speaker believes to be of the highest quality in art, beauty, and culture.  The gallery is a place that makes the duke proud and reflects upon his personal character.  His grandiose claims that the painter "Worked busily a day, and there she stands" (4) indicate his belief that his gallery is one to behold.  Claiming that "none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I" (9-10) creates an air of exclusivity and privilege.

            Intertwined with setting is the way in which the speaker interacts with the listener of the poem.  Arnold's softer, more reflective speaker turns to his listener who is likely a new bride: "Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!" (6).  His invitation shows his willingness to share his experience with her.  He implores her to listen to the "grating roar / Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, / At their return, up the high strand" (9-11).  Not only does he include her in the action of the monologue, but he finds in her a kind of solution to his mental conundrum: "Ah, love, let us be true / To one another!" (29-30).  In this way the presence of the silent speaker of "Dover Beach" is cathartic to the speaker.

            A radically different kind of interaction occurs between the duke and his guest.  His invitation holds a more stern, almost commanding tone: "Will't please you sit and look at her?" (5).  He assumes that his guest is interested in what the duke is trying to show him.  He brings the listener in further by addressing a question: "And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, / How such a glance came there; so, not the first / Are you to turn and ask thus" (11-13).  While it is implied that the duke's guest has asked specifically about the painting of the Duchess, the duke is eager to display the painting and equally eager to speak about it.  Because of the duke's eagerness, the air of exclusivity he attempts to create is false.  The guest's presence is simply that of another guest, and he would be proud to flaunt his art collection to any visitor in an attempt to make a grand impression.

            The interaction between the speaker and the listener creates the most substantial portion of the dramatic monologue that reveals aspects of the speaker's character through their dialogue.  The speaker of "Dover Beach" gives insight into his character by speaking of his concerns and deeply held feelings.  He is conflicted.  The speaker's inner conflict with Victorian values is compared to the incoming and outgoing tide on a pebble beach.  He is a man whose religious faith has been shaken, comparing it to the sea: "The Sea of Faith / Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore / Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled" (21-23).  His uncertainty is depicted as somewhat hopeless as he claims "And we are here as on a darkling plain / Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, / Where ignorant armies clash by night" (35-37).  He is locked in an internal mental struggle.

            This hopelessness becomes a point of contemplation for the speaker.  The belief he may have held in mankind has ebbed like the sea he describes.  His concern and worry is exemplified as he compares himself to Sophocles: "it brought / Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow / Of human misery" (16-18). The speaker believes that this ebb and flow was once a reality, but now regards this cycle as having deteriorated into a slow decline.  His old beliefs have little power to move him as he claims "But now I only hear / Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, / Retreating" (24-26).  These feelings have left him feeling dejected and led him to believe that the world "Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light" (33).  As he remarks about the "naked shingles of the world" (28), he shows that he believes the world is vulnerable and frail.

            The speaker of "My Last Duchess" presents a stark contrast to the speaker of "Dover Beach."  The character traits revealed through the monologue are not those of a man searching for answers, but of an over privileged man who takes pleasure in boasting.  The duke shows himself to be a selfish man who believes he can do what he pleases without repercussion. He begins by relating his opinion of his "Last Duchess'" misdeeds: "Sir, 'twas not / Her husband's presence only, called that spot / Of joy into the Duchess' cheek" (13-15).  His expectations of her treatment toward him were overly selfish, and he did not approve of her friendly demeanor: "She had / A heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad, / too easily impressed" (21-23).  The duke's expectations not only govern his deceased wife, but also to the standard which he holds himself.  His pride is on display as he puts an over-emphasis on his family name: "as if she ranked / My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody's gift" (32-34).  He refuses to sink down to the level of "stooping": "—E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose / Never to stoop" (42-43), unknowingly proffering an image of a man with an exalted opinion of self. 

            As a privileged man who makes his own rules, the duke continues to stain his own image by taking pleasure in boasting about the murder of his wife and casually inquiring about his next marriage.  Clearly having nothing to fear, the duke bluntly admits, "I gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together" (45-46).   He states quite plainly that he had ordered his wife killed without shame or fear of retribution.  As he is to be married again so soon, he clearly has no sense of right, wrong, or timing.  He is conducting negotiations for a dowry from the listener's Lord and worried about the conditions of the dowry: "The Count your master's known munificence / Is ample warrant that no just pretence / Of mine for dowry will be disallowed" (49-51).  His arrogance becomes fully illuminated as he flagrantly moves on to the next piece of art: "Notice Neptune, though, / Taming a sea-horse" (54-55).

            As the duke continues his monologue, it becomes evident that he is someone who cannot be trusted.  He speaks clearly and with confidence, but his reference to "skill / In speech—(which I have not)" (35-36) is clearly meant to mislead.  The duke believes he is fooling the listener not just with this lie, but with his justifications for the murder of his own wife.  The duke makes plain the differences between "Dover Beach" and "My Last Duchess."  Both adhere to the dramatic monologue, but Browning deviates from the classic formula.  Browning's style is one that sheds negative light on the speaker, allowing him to inadvertently reveal his own hypocrisy and morally reprehensible behavior and feelings.  By contrast, Arnold's style stays faithful to his romantic predecessors.  Instead of a boastful tyrant, the speaker is an introspective character searching for answers.  Unlike the duke, who unknowingly provides self damning information, he gives no allusions to being distrustful.  He is fully aware of what is related to the listener.  His concern for his listener is greater than that of the duke, who is only interested in the grand impression he tries to relate.  Arnold's speaker has much more in common with William Wordsworth as he searches and eventually finds a solution in human contact,  seeking his own personal truth.

The Silent Women of "The Blessed Damozel" and "Porphyria's Lover"

            As prominent examples of the Victorian silent female, the women of Dante Gabriel Rosetti's "The Blessed Damozel" and Robert Browning's "Porphyria's Lover" hold a deeper meaning than a simple woman who desires her lover.  Due to the fact that these women are silent throughout these works, their thoughts and feelings are channeled through the poems' speakers.  By showing the feelings of the women through their male lovers, the poets create a slanted point of view that only represents the thoughts and desires of the speaker.  The point of view of the women becomes made up or even nonexistent.  These unreliable narrators may accurately relay the actions of the poem, but in speaking for the women's feelings they distort the truth.  By utilizing these male narrators, the poets establish a paradigm where silence or death becomes a state where the woman yearns for the man.  It is a position of control that is sought by the narrators.  This control becomes evident in the ways that the narrators worry about the feelings of the poems' women.  This need for control ultimately contributes to the ways in which the speakers make assumptions about their lovers' feelings, relaying what they believe to be the truth. 

            Dante Rosetti's "The Blessed Damozel" is the story of a woman who has passed away and now yearns for her lover who is still on Earth.  While the woman's dialogue comprises most of the poem, the story is told through the male lover who is still alive.  Her dialogue is quoted, while the narrator's thoughts and feelings are included within parenthesis.  By quoting her dialogue, the poem shows that her words are channeled through the speaker.  The speaker sees her state of death as something that has intensified her passion for him: "'I wish that he were come to me, / For he will come,' she said. / 'Have I not prayed in Heaven?'" (67-68).  His words show that he believes her desire for him has either grown or not diminished.  He claims that she is taken over by a deep melancholy: "Her eyes were deeper than the depth / Of waters stilled at even" (3-4).  The speaker intensifies her melancholy by claiming that something as great as heaven is an impediment to their love: "The blessed damozel leaned out / From the gold bar of Heaven" (1-2).  Not only is heaven an impediment, but being there adds insult to injury as she sees others enjoying what she cannot have: "Around her, lovers, newly met / 'Mid deathless love's acclaims, / Spoke evermore among themselves" (37-40).

            Browning's "Porphyria's Lover" shows death as a similar condition.  Although the narrator of "The Blessed Damozel" is a harmless lover telling his wishes, Browning's narrator is more sinister.  He desires Porphyria, but she is tied down by other obligations.  He begins with a sort of cat and mouse game: "When no voice replied, / She put my arm about her waist, / And made her smooth white shoulder bare, / And all her yellow hair displaced" (15-18). He is unresponsive and silent, seeking a response as she almost offers herself to him. Inaction is a subversive way to exercise control over her, as he claims, "And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, / And spread, e'er all, her yellow hair, / Murmuring how she loved me—" (19-21).  He gets what he wants as she lays his head on her breast—she is initiating all of the action. This is the way he wants it to be.  By strangling her with her own hair, he creates a situation where he believes she is able to make the choice she really wants.  The speaker believes that being dead allows Porphyria to unchain her desires as well as give him complete possession over her: "That moment she was mine, mine, fair" (36). The speaker's repetitive use of the word "mine" suggests his possessive nature.  As he claims "I untightened next the tress / About her neck; her cheek once more / Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:" (46-48), he shows that he is willing to take action once she has completely given herself to him.  Their roles reverse: "Only, this time my shoulder bore / Her head, which droops upon it still" (50-51).

            These men who see complete devotion and overwhelming passion from their lovers in death seem to do so out of worry and stress about how their respective women actually feel about them.  The speaker of "The Blessed Damozel" interrupts his narration to ask "Strove not her steps to reach my side / Down all the echoing stair?" (65-66).  He questions whether she desires to descend from Heaven down to where he is.  He alludes to the cycle of day and night that the Damozel observes, down "as low as where this earth / Spins like a fretful midge" (35-36).  As he is down on Earth, he also alludes to himself as fretful.  The speaker is stressing over the Damozel and he is the one feeling that heaven is the "golden bar."

            The speaker of "Porphyria's Lover" begins by describing the weather in line with his feelings: "The rain set early in to-night, / The sullen wind was soon awake, / It tore the elm-tops down for spite, / And did its worst to vex the lake" (1-4).  He establishes the cold harsh outside that mirrors his feelings as he worries about where Porphyria may be.  By claiming "I listened with heart fit to break" (5), the speaker is clearly stressing over Porphyria.  Her presence seems to ease his mind as she walks in: "When glided in Porphyria; straight / She shut the cold out and the storm, / And kneeled and made the cheerless grate / Blaze up, and all the cottage warm" (6-9).  She brings warmth and good feelings, and he now knows she's no longer somewhere else.  He is separated from her and worrying about where she is, how she feels about him or how far she is willing to go in their relationship.  His worry comes primarily from her indecision: "Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour, / To set its struggling passion free / From pride, and vainer ties dissever" (22-24).  Pride and vainer ties suggest that she is of a higher class and cannot succumb to her feelings because of societal constraints.  As he claims "passion sometimes would prevail, / Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain" (26-27), he shows that at other times she has given in, while the feast also suggests her upper class status.  This status and indecision is something he frets about and makes his worry more troublesome because she is not willing to fully commit to him in the way that he would like. 

            These worried speakers act out their concerns through their assumptions of the way their lovers feel about them.  They portray their women's feelings as more hyperbolic than actually truthful.  The speaker of "The Blessed Damozel" insists that "Surely she leaned o'er me—her hair / Fell all about my face . . . / Nothing: the autumn-fall of leaves. / The whole year sets apace" (20-23).  He thinks she must be doing these things that he imagines.  He envisions her beseeching God to allow her to go back to the way it was on Earth:

"There will I ask of Christ the Lord

Thus much for him and me:—

Only to live as once on earth

With Love,—only to be,

As then awhile, for ever now

Together, I and he." (127-132)

The narrator's assumption that she cannot be happy without him regardless of where she is holds extra weight by depicting her in Heaven.   Even though heaven is a great, magical place, he wishes and believes that she feels so strongly for him that Heaven is simply an obstacle between them.

            Part of his assumption of the Damozel is that he is going to heaven.  The speaker intertwines her desire for him and his assurance he will go to Heaven as a way for him to be with her.  His desires become apparent through the lines given to the Damozel: "When round his head the aureole clings, / And he is clothed in white, / I'll take his hand and go with him / To the deep wells of light;" (73-76).  She claims assuredly that "All this is when he comes" (135). As she says "Then will I lay my cheek / To his, and tell about our love, / Not once abashed or weak: / And the dear Mother will approve" (116-119), she seems to reassure him that they will be together.

            Much in the way that the speaker of "The Blessed Damozel" assumes that she prefers her lover's company to the bliss of Heaven, so too does the speaker of "Porphyria's Lover" assume that Porphyria "worships" him.  This realization seems completely legitimate to the speaker, and affects him emotionally: "Porphyria worshipped me; surprise / Made my heart swell, and still it grew / While I debated what to do" (33-35).  He imposes his feelings and hopes upon Porphyria in a similar way, with the poem reading as if it were his own sort of fantasy world.  He insists that "again / Laughed the blue eyes without a strain" (44-45), reasoning that she is no longer entangled in her constraints.  He believes her eyes are laughing because she is now free to love him unrepressed.  Although he acknowledges that he has murdered Porphyria, he continues to say that this has helped her make a decision she already wanted to make: "The smiling rosy little head, / So glad it has its utmost will, / That all it scorned at once is fled, / And I, its love, am gained instead!" (52-55).  He declares the fruition of their unrestrained love as "Her darling one wish" (57).  Not unlike the way the Blessed Damozel prefers her lover to Heaven,  the speaker confirms his belief that she loved him so strongly she would prefer to die. 

            By being completely silent, Porphyria and the Damozel allow their lovers to create elaborate fantasies that seem too ridiculous to be true.  As the speaker of "Porphyria's Lover" reveals, "And all night long we have not stirred" (59), he shows that he is content with the words and feelings he has put into Porphyria's mouth.  The speaker of "The Blessed Damozel" also finds a satisfaction as he closes the final stanza: "I heard her tears" (144).  These men find a satisfaction in the control they are able to exert, forcing their own ideas upon the women of the poems.  Death becomes the ultimate silence, allowing the speakers to say whatever hyperbolic statements they please.  While the texts do not suggest that the women do not love the speakers, it does suggest that their feelings are grossly overstated.  They are able to will them to be true without the slightest chance of protest. 

Importance of Memory in Wordsworth

            For Romantic poets, there is no greater force upon humans than one of the many forms of the imagination.  For William Wordsworth, this force is exemplified in memory.  The greatest example of his exploration of memory comes from "Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798."  In it he displays his opinion of memory as a powerful source of  enlightenment and pleasure through his interaction with the natural world.  It becomes something he recalls time and time again to ease the ills of everyday life, giving him solace that he hopes can also affect the companion of the poem, his sister, Dorothy.  Through his experience within "Tintern Abbey," Wordsworth presents his view that memory is a powerful balm that can allow its bearer some degree of relief from the adverse situations that a person may face throughout life.

            While Wordsworth seems to value memory in general, his most valued memories come in the form of specific remembrances of nature.  His visit to Tintern Abbey five years before the production of the poem has laid a foundation for his return.  The location of the poem is central to his memories.  He becomes immediately moved by the waters, cliffs, and foliage that moved him five years before.  The thoughts and powers of memory are focused on and come from nature, and Wordsworth has kept them close over the years: "Though absent long, / These forms of beauty have not been to me, / As is a landscape to a blind man's eye" (23-25).  Wordsworth makes a reference to the "eye and ear, both what they half-create, / And what perceive; well pleased to recognize / In nature and the language of the sense" (107-09) to link his own appreciation of nature with his belief that reality and memory are linked and based on interpretation and perception.  The pleasure he recognizes is a pleasure that he draws from the surrounding environment.

            Wordsworth uses his experiences with nature in "Tintern Abbey" to show that memory is a sort of transcendent power that grants enlightenment.  He claims that the "heavy and weary weight / Of all this unintelligible world / Is lighten'd" (40-42).  While he speaks of a burden literally being lifted, "lighten'd" also serves to connote enlightenment of the spiritual variety.  His memories go beyond the physical realm: "we are laid asleep / In body, and become a living soul" (46-47).  He continues to evoke not simply a thought or memory, but a higher form of power or consciousness: "the joy / Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime / Of something far more deeply interfused" (95-97).  This transcendent power is something that Wordsworth utilizes to look back and enhance his present experiences.

            The "sense sublime" that he refers to allows him to view memory as a source of pleasure that he carries with him.  To illustrate the sustaining qualities of memory he compares it to food: "Their colours and their forms, were then to me / An appetite: a feeling and a love" (80-81).  Creating and recalling memories becomes a sort of consumption and sustenance, a pleasure much like consuming food that he associates with positive emotions.  He is able to sustain himself for a long period of time on his memories, claiming that "in this moment there is food / for future years" (65-66).  Not simply a fleeting pleasure, this food is something he turns to regularly, actively engaging in and consuming. 

            Because memory is a source of enrichment and pleasure, he is able to return to these memories in unpleasant and hard times.  Even within "Tintern Abbey," Wordsworth shows an unpleasant time through his lamentation of the loss of youth.   In some ways the poem refers to a crisis of passing time, maturation, and the effects of memory on "that best portion of a good man's life" (34).  By claiming "all its aching joys are now no more," (85) he laments the passage of time.  Memory helps to highlight the good in these times long passed.  This crisis of age is eased through his utilization of the memories he has created at places like Tintern Abbey.  He states their benefits, claiming "I have owed to them, / In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, / Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart" (27-29).  He has called upon these memories to bring "tranquil restoration" (31) which helps him through life, becoming a means of rejuvenation.  Wordsworth calls upon these memories again and again as he shows his habitual use of memory: "How often has my spirit turned to thee!" (58).

            Not only does the memory serve Wordsworth in times of need, but he hopes that it can also be beneficial to his sister, Dorothy.  His belief in memory's healing quality is further stressed through his hopes for her.  "Tintern Abbey" continues to affirm memory's positive effects as Wordsworth hopes that her mind will be a "mansion for all lovely forms" (141).  He hopes for Dorothy that "Thy memory be as a dwelling-place / For all sweet sounds and harmonies" (142-143).  He sees the effects that he first witnessed at Tintern Abbey within her: "My former pleasures in the shooting lights / Of thy wild eyes" (119-120).  He hopes that the memory will live in her "in after years" (138) as it has done in him, allowing her to later recall "healing thoughts / Of tender joy" (145-146).  If Dorothy can recall and relish memories in the way that Wordsworth has come to do, then she will be able to overcome the adversities of life and "so inform / The mind that is within us, so impress / With quietness and beauty" (126-128).
            While Wordsworth makes a great focus on the beauty of nature and its power to inspire memories that have a healing quality, he has no illusions about the limitations of memory.  The lines of "Tintern Abbey" show a recognition for the fallibility of memory and the issues of aging.  Well aware of memory's limitation, Wordsworth refers to "half-extinguish'd thought" (59) and "recognitions dim and faint" (60).  Though he considers memory to be powerful, it is still not something to be completely trusted.  Some memories are stronger than others.  Tintern Abbey is not exactly how Wordsworth remembers it, and his return visit shows that his memory has faded.  By claiming "The picture of the mind revives again" (62), he shows that the fleeting qualities of memory require it to be restored and refreshed.

            While recognizing the limitations, "Tintern Abbey" still illustrates ways in which Wordsworth harnesses the power of memory for spiritual well-being, taking great joy in both recalling and creating memories.  The inclusion of Dorothy in these memories shows that his beliefs in memory are universal, and not just something he himself is able to utilize.  As the most important incarnation of the imagination to Wordsworth, memory serves a higher function than the usual cognitive abilities.  It becomes a bastion of pleasure, a way to overcome the troubles of life, and a stimulating force that can be used to create, with  "Tintern Abbey" being a product of this creative force.  These qualities allow memory to have a strong influence over Wordsworth that allows for a more full utilization of the imagination.

Works Cited

Wordsworth, William. "Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798." The Longman Anthology Of British Literature, The Romantics And Their Contemporaries. Ed. Damrosch, David, Kevin J. H. Dettmar, Peter Manning, and Susan Wolfson. New York: Longman, 2010. 390-394. Print.

An Intersection Between Man and Nature

            When civilization and nature intersect, it is often the case that flora and fauna suffer as a result.  Humanity can be thought of as an interloper in the natural world, bringing unnatural technology and undesired change.  Nature, however, seems as likely as always to thrive in adverse conditions.  This argument for the lasting power of nature and condemnation of modern technology is made in Robinson Jeffers’s poem “Carmel Point.”  His speaker comments on the imposing influence of mankind’s suburban landscape.  With Wallace Stevens’ “Anecdote of the Jar” we see a similar pattern of interaction between people and nature, one that also involves the meddling of men in the environment.  These poems intersect in their depiction of the enduring power of nature compared to the temporary dregs of technology.  They seem to point to the inadequate contribution of human technology, and share a disdain for its impact on the natural world.  They make the claim that nature is an untamable force that will ultimately outlast humanity and its impact on the landscape, returning to the state it previously occupied before it was changed.

            Robinson Jeffers begins “Carmel Point” with an interesting statement that echoes his feelings about nature.  He exclaims in the first line, “The extraordinary patience of things!”  His use of the word “things” references nature, which we see as the poem develops.  It is the patience of nature and its incredible lasting power.  This place, the beautiful beach of Carmel Point, has been overrun with signs of development.  The speaker claims the place has been “defaced with a crop of suburban houses” (3).  Jefferson then asks in line 7 “Now the spoiler has come: does it care?”  The spoiler here is mankind, the developed houses that dot the once completely natural landscape.  But nature does not care even “faintly,” because it “has all the time. It knows people are a tide / that swells and in time will ebb,” (8-9). 

            This poem ultimately refers to the cycle of nature.  Jeffers created a term called “inhumanism” to describe the way in which mankind is out of touch with the natural cycles of nature.  In the lines 13-14 of “Carmel Point” he claims “We must uncenter our minds from ourselves; / We must unhumanize our views a little.”  This is a direct reference to his concept of inhumanism.  His claim is that humans should try to become better in touch with nature, because industrialization and technology keep the two apart.  Continuation of natural things is a high concern for Jeffers. He seems to have little faith in the power of technology, but an optimistic attitude about its mixture with nature.

            The “Anecdote of the Jar” shows the idea of mixing man and nature in another way by examining the relationship between what man places in the landscape and the landscape itself.  The speaker tells us how he has placed a jar upon a hilltop.  It is a round, unnaturally shaped jar that “made the slovenly wilderness / surround that hill” (3-4).  The jar can be seen as a symbol of human influence on the wilderness, as the poem suggests that the jar had some effect over nature.  The wilderness “sprawled around, no longer wild,” suggesting that the jar had a taming influence on the area (6). 

            The “slovenly wilderness” of line 3 suggests that the speaker believes the wilderness is somehow inferior to the jar. A comparison of slovenly to the perfectly round jar seems to suggest this as well.  Nature creates unorganized and sloppy looking creations, while mankind’s work is neat and concise.  The speaker may be claiming this because the jar is a modern creation of man.  The wilderness can be seen as inferior from the speaker’s point of view because the jar is neat and round.  Stevens uses descriptive words to emphasize this, using words that sound like or contain the adjective “round.” He uses the word twice, and throws in several very similar words; surround, around and ground.  Perhaps through this emphasis the jar can be seen as superior because the jar is a perfectly round item, a shape nature does not generally create in a geometrically perfect way. 

            The last section seems to reverse this relationship, changing the focus of the word “it.”  The word refers to the wilderness in line 9, and in line 10 the jar is described as “gray and bare.”  If the “it” were still describing the jar, lines 9 and 10 would be likely be swapped to make the subject clear to the reader.  Suggesting at the end that the jar was “gray and bare” shows a change in attitude from the beginning of the poem.  The speaker tells of a jar with great influence over nature, and then seems to turn the image on its head with the claim that “It [nature] took dominion everywhere” (9). The speaker changes his wording and at the end of the poem shows that the jar has actually had only a temporary effect, as the wilderness ignored the jar and grew up around it. 

            Where the natural world swallows up human creation, we see that Stevens’ jar and Jeffers’ “spoiler” have quite a bit in common.  Jeffers claims that encroaching development has spoiled the landscape.  The once beautiful place where nature sprung up on its own has been subdued.  In the reversal of the final section of “Anecdote of the Jar” in lines 11-12, Stevens’ speaker claims “It did not give of bird or bush, / Like nothing else in Tennesee.”  The double negative here suggests that everything else in Tennessee did produce nature in the form of birds and bushes. Like the “spoiler” from “Carmel Point,” the jar gave no productive additions to the natural world.  Both of these seem “gray and bare,” lacking any sort of substance or lasting power.

            The poems not only share a complaint of man’s encroachment upon the environment, but also offer a resolution of sorts.  Both claim that human intrusion on the landscape is a temporary state.   Nature is beyond the perversion of human interference.  Similar to the wilderness around the jar, the beauty from the rocks will eventually return to the entire area.  Jeffers asserts the idea that nature is patient, willing to outlast the ever increasing menace of human meddling.  He is waiting for the time when “Their works dissolve,” but in the meantime their “pristine beauty” can still be viewed by examining the ever present cliffs (10).  Since this interference, like the tide, will ebb, nature will eventually grow up around and overcome it. 

            Stevens and Jeffers show an interest in the relationship between man and nature, especially in the way that development affects the natural landscape.  They show an ideal concept of this relationship with the idea that nature will always outlast any human actions or monuments.  Jeffers, a trained geologist, sees the beauty of nature inherent in the rock, and recognizes that it has endured long before humanity and will continue to endure long after.  Stevens presents a similar view, showing how the natural world will eventually swallow up any sign of human encroachment.  The idea is similar to leaving a garden untended.  Without care and interaction with it, it will eventually swallow up this man made area and once again become untamed. 

Works Cited

Jeffers, Robinson. “Carmel Point.” Literature: Reading and Writing with Critical Strategies. Ed. Steven Lynn. New York: Longman-Pearson, 2004. 65. Print

Stevens, Wallace. “Anecdote of the Jar.” Literature: Reading and Writing with Critical Strategies. Ed. Steven Lynn. New York: Longman-Pearson, 2004. 620. Print

Elements of Generational Struggle in Pa Chin's Family

            Pa Chin’s Family evokes a strong element of conflict among the younger and older generations of Chinese families, especially within the Kao family.  At the heart of this conflict is a struggle against the old Confucian ideas of the elders in the wake of the end of the Qing Dynasty.  Young people had a desire for individualism that was shown through their rebellion against the old ways and the rejection of Confucian ideals and rituals.  The young people of the Kao family, especially Chueh-hui, fought against this with new ideas and condemnations of practices that were seen as doing more harm than good.  Students like Chueh-hui in the May 4th Movement sought the self analysis and revolutionary thought that they felt was lacking in China.  This fight also included a desire for individuality that was in direct contrast to the old Confucian values that stressed relationship obligations and stifled the individual. In the end the novel gives justification to the youth by showing the sad consequences that they interpret as symptoms of Confucianism.

            The head of the Kao family, Yeh-yeh, is seen as a “crusty Confucian moralist” (65) by his grandsons, and displays his dedication to Confucianism in a number of ways.  In an effort to dissuade them from attending school outside the compound he tells Chueh-hui and Chueh-min, "Look at your uncle Ke-ting.  He never went to school, he only studied at home with a tutor.  But he reads the classics very well, and he writes better than any of you" (67).  His emphasis to the boys is on the classics, as well as shielding them from any outside ideas they may gain from their schooling.  Master Kao wants to keep the boys and the rest of the family submissive, and to have no question to his patriarchal authority.  In a display of his absolute authority he forces Ke-ting, who has acted in a way that shames the family by incurring gambling debts and consorting with prostitutes, to kneel at the ground before him and repeatedly slap his own face.  He continues to stress the way his family should behave according to Confucian relationships with his anger at Chueh-hsin.  His attempts to speak to his grandfather on Chueh-min’s behalf infuriate the old man: "The patriarch was furious.  He knew only that his authority had been attacked and stern measures were needed to restore it” (269).

            In the middle of the conflict between young and old stands Chueh-hsin, the older brother who has felt pain inflicted by the Confucian system, but is forced to continue and reinforce it by taking his place in the family.  His individualism has been stifled.  In his experience, he has been forced into his role and forced into a marriage he did not want.  Wanting to marry cousin Mei, he is instead forced to marry Jui-Chueh through an arranged marriage which he has no say in.  Although in disagreement with Master Kao, he generally does everything that is asked of him to maintain the status quo.  He sympathizes with his younger brothers, but is unable to help them.  He fears Master Kao and the rest of the Venerable Masters, but is not strong enough to go against this river of tradition, which makes him unable to act on behalf of his brothers or their ideals. 

            Going further in opinion from Master Kao and Chueh-hsin are the brothers Chueh-min and Chueh-hui.  Chueh-hui, the most active and rebellious of the two, takes part in the movement of the students and is confined at home by Master Kao because their ideas clash with Confucian values.  He shows his frustration often, and takes to writing articles for the magazine he founded with his fellow students and friends.  Mistress Chen asks him “Where's your sense of duty!" (286), as he refuses to open the door for the witch doctor that has come to attempt to drive away evil spirits.  He does not see embracing superstition as a demonstration of duty, and feels that his elders' concept of duty requires ridiculous actions..  He also rejects the class system, saying he wants to marry Ming-feng.  She tells him "You have to uphold your dignity as one of the masters" (75).  Chueh-hui, however, has no desire to keep his position in the Kao family when others like Ming-feng live in a system that only sees them as servants.  His brother Chueh-min also feels that his choice of marriage should be his own, and decides to take the initiative in choosing his partner: "In contrast to the older generation, Chueh-min took active measures concerning his marriage.  Without the least shyness, he made inquiries about the proposed match” (254).

            The narration stresses the desire for individualism in the young characters. One of the strongest representations of individualism is represented by Chueh-hui: "Ever since childhood, he had been consumed by a craving to be entirely different from the men of his elder generation.  As a boy, he had travelled a great deal with his county prefect father, and had seen many odd things.  He often dreamed of running away to distant exotic lands, of pursuing unusual careers" (95).  He wants to travel his own path, one that is not decided by his elders.  The girls of Chin’s school show their desire to be able to make their own choices when many of them adopt short haircuts.  This is all happening at a time when the male school that Chueh-hui and Chueh-min attend is considering allowing girls as well.  These girls want what the boys are allowed to have, a future and an education.  With these things they could have a chance of standing on their own and not being dependent on others. 

            The old ways of Confucianism have many negative results which help to reinforce the young people’s opinion of the ways of their elders.  Chueh-hsin loses the two women in the world that he loves, one's death is due to the Confucian system and the other's death is made more tragic by its rules.  When cousin Mei’s husband dies she is thought to be useless, she has nowhere to turn and can make nothing of herself.  The novel to connects this to her cause of death, as she is slowly wasting away and spiraling down into depression.  The second woman, Chueh-hsin’s wife, is forced to leave the compound while she gives birth due to the superstition of the “blood glow” that was believed to harm the body of the deceased Master Kao.  They are forced to keep separate and Chueh-hsin sits helpless on the other side of the door as his wife dies in childbirth.

            The old ways have many detrimental effects for women, materializing especially in  Ming-feng's suicide.  Unable to deal with the stress of becoming a concubine for Master Feng, she decides instead to drown herself.  Unfortunately, Chueh-hui and Ming-feng are not the only victims, as Wan-erh is taken in her place to suffer the fate of a concubine.  Arrangement of marriage robs an individual of choice, and concubines reinforce and exercise the patriarchal control of society.  They serve to hurt the lower class in cases like Ming-feng.  Chin’s mother later brings up the idea of arranging a marriage for Chin, prompting her to think negatively on the subject: "It became clear to her that this road was built thousands of years ago; the earth on the road was saturated with the blood and tears of those women” (202). The "road" she contemplates is Chinese tradition that placed little power in the hands of women, forcing them into undesirable situations like the many tragic women of Family.

            The Confucian ideals that stressed a class based and patriarchal system became heavily scrutinized during Pa Chin's life. After the end of the Qing, many argued for reform as a way to bring China back to greatness by helping all of its citizens and ending Western involvement.  The younger generation's ideas of helping all citizens, and not simply the upper class is stressed as Chueh-hui asks “Do you really think enjoyment should be based on others' pain?" (140). Unfortunately, Confucianism was a hindrance because it stifled change and reform by calling it a violation of its teachings.  Confucian criticism and feelings like those of Master Kao had the effect of holding China back and branding those who opposed the status quo as unpatriotic. As Chueh-hui asks himself “Is love of country a crime?” (60), it becomes evident that the intent of Chinese reformers is simply to work for an improved and recovered China.

Works Cited

Chin, Pa. Family. Long Grove: Waveland Press, 1972. Print.

Taymor's Titus: Reviving Ancient Rome for Present Day Audiences

            Julie Taymor's Titus, a film adaptation of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus, evokes a strong response from viewers by taking the problematic themes of Shakespeare's time and presenting them in a way that can be easily interpreted by modern audiences.  After several centuries Titus Andronicus is as culturally relevant as it was when Shakespeare penned it.  Taymor, seeing a link between contemporary themes of violence, sexuality, and race, takes a number of liberties with the play, enhancing the message for a modern audience.  She does this through a barrage of anachronistic symbolism that suggests a link between the themes presented by the play and contemporary society.  Taymor's symbolism focuses on a link to dark human issues like fascism and modern day criminal activity.  Most highlighted of these criminal acts is rape, as Taymor calls attention to modern opinions of rape and its victims through the character of Lavinia. Issues of race in modern times are also highlighted to show how attitudes have changed little throughout history.  These symbols come together to show how they are imprinted on children with the character of Young Lucius. Taymor depicts the boy as a spectator. This depiction further emphasizes Shakespeare's suggestion of a cycle of violence.  Through this bloody tale of revenge, murder, and rape, Taymor asserts a common thread of social issues reaching back two thousand years.

            Although the violence of Titus can be interpreted as disturbing, Taymor claims that the themes represented in the play mirror today's society.  In an interview with Maria De Luca and Mary Lindroth, Taymor defends the violence of her film: "Every day I'll read something that is right out of Titus Andronicus, so when people think this is 'over the top,' they're absolutely wrong. What could be more 'over the top' than the Holocaust?" (31).  Her aim with the film is not gratuitous violence, but rather the evocation of an awareness of these contemporary issues.  Commenting on this, Taymor notes, "I thought, 'My God, something that was written four hundred years ago is so moving, so shocking, so powerful and palpably contemporary'" (Johnson-Haddad 34).   Taymor claims that Titus Andronicus is the most relevant work by Shakespeare because it involves race, violence, and a link to Elizabethan times (Johnson-Haddad 34).  She utilizes this relevancy to illustrate the parallels between Shakespeare's vision of Rome and contemporary American culture.

            The attempt to link the film and play to contemporary culture is evident in Taymor's heavy use of symbolic imagery.  With a nod to anachronistic inconsistencies that were permitted in Shakespeare's time, Taymor brings a host of images that are out of place in ancient Rome.  According to Elsie Walker, Taymor's film "evokes various epochs, an ancient world of ritual, mausoleums and orgies along with elements of modern America. Tanks, horses, and carriages, limousines, bows and arrows, machine guns . . ." (194).  There are many elements in Titus that remind viewers of present day items and attitudes.  Standing on the steps of a Roman Coliseum, Young Lucius catches a newspaper carried by the wind. Titus removes his hand in a modern looking kitchen, where Aaron takes it, inserts it into a plastic baggie, and hangs it from the rear-view mirror of his automobile as a trophy.  Titus suggests a contemporary link by being dressed in a modern day chef's costume in the play's final scenes.  These examples serve as a constant reminder that the values of the ancient world are similar to contemporary society through their simultaneous depiction of imagery from ancient Rome and present day.

            Taymor shows how the violent nature of ancient times is relevant by depicting modern day atrocities.  Taymor observes that "it's amazing how innocence can be twisted, whether it's the gang rapes in Central Park, or Littleton, or the Nazi Youth; you get that person who can harness prejudice and hate. I think all wars do that" (Johnson-Haddad 36).  The film suggests a link to wars and European fascism through the imagery of the soldiers, wearing uniforms not unlike that of a Nazi soldier.  Alan Cumming's portrayal of Saturnine shows a man driving a 1930s style vehicle alongside Mussolini era architecture.  The Coliseum presents a further link to the fascist era.  The actual location used in the film was the "Square Coliseum" built under Mussolini's government.  Saturninus speaks in a hyperbolic manner through a microphone, addressing the people in a way that imitates a fascist oration style.  Speaking of his performance, Roberta Barker confirms that Cumming combines "feminized feyness with the menacingly authoritarian stance of a fascist dictator . . . His expensive haircut recalls the androgynous 'New Romantic' pop stars of the 1980s and Adolf Hitler in equal measure" (89). Barker continues to affirm the link to fascism: "Similar juxtapositions characterize his gestural language when he harangues the crowd outside in the Roman Forum, figured significantly by Mussolini's 'square coliseum'" (89).  Instead of Roman era weaponry, characters carry guns and the army of Lucius convenes in a tent converted into a modern looking war room.  This link to the past is aimed at reminding viewers of great tragedies that have afflicted the world, and how easily they can come to fruition.

            These atrocities are also depicted through relations to contemporary crime  and violence.  Titus murders Lavinia for what he believes is her benefit, but it is also for the benefit of her purity and reputation.  Taymor claims, "Absolutely, he killed his daughter and they're doing it today in Bosnia and in many Muslim countries" (De Luca and Lindroth 31).  Chiron and Demetrius embody the symbolism of restless youth by drinking, playing video games and pool, and listening to loud rock music.  They are easily influenced by the violence of their games, and thus easily influenced by Aaron.  Taymor suggests this link herself as she acknowledges that an outsider "whether it's Hitler or Aaron—can harness that hate and turn it into violence. I want people to see that if you instill hatred and racism into any person—whether it's the average German in Germany . . . I keep using the Holocaust because it's the biggest event of our century—it can be twisted and manipulated. People in groups can justify their actions" (De Luca and Lindroth 31).  Taymor suggests that acts like the rape of Lavinia or the great lengths characters go to exact revenge are contemporary in many ways because such crimes are often fueled by similar circumstances and feelings. 

            As Chiron and Demetrius commit the rape of Lavinia, the film furthers the link of modern and past atrocities in the ideas of sexuality and sexual violence.  This linking is done by highlighting still prevalent opinions in some circles of society in relation to a victim of rape.  In the nightmare scenes Taymor calls "Penny Arcade Nightmares," Lavinia is a depicted wearing a dress that blows upward, providing a link between herself and Marilyn Monroe's character in the film The Seven Year Itch.  Suggesting a modern link to rape victims, the author Pascale Aebischer claims that "the association with Monroe codes Lavinia both as a victim of male exploitation and as 'available' and 'asking for it' in the ambiguous sense in which 'ravish' can refer both to the male act of rape and the female condition of being 'ravishing'" (47).  Taymor's Lavinia mocks attitudes of women "asking for it," by showing a brutalized and helpless Lavinia juxtaposed in the Penny Arcade Nightmare as willing victim.   Taymor comments on the relevance of the nightmare scene as a reliving of the experience, saying that "when a woman has to testify at a rape trial she is re-experiencing the rape" (De Luca and Lindroth 30).
            As conventional thought of violence and rape is shown as changing very little, Taymor furthers the idea by comparing ancient and modern day ideas of race.  The characters of Titus Andronicus have a wealth of racist attitudes towards Aaron, and Taymor highlights this through the film's anachronistic style.  Aaron, like many minorities in contemporary society, is misunderstood and faces discrimination based on his appearance. As David McCandless writes, "Taymor professes to find in Aaron's nihilism 'an extraordinary contemporary image' of the disaffected young black man whom one can find 'in any ghetto,' who 'doesn't give a damn about the consequence of his violence, doesn't give a damn about the future'" (493).  This image is portrayed through the alienation experienced by Aaron, which Taymor emphasizes through the film.

            This alienation is highlighted in Taymor's choice of appearance for some characters.  According to Kartelli and Rowe, the scarring of characters like Tamora and Aaron "not only marks their ethnic difference from the 'ancient' Romans but resonate with the contemporary vogue for tattoos and body art in a way that makes them seem a different, more compelling form of outsider" (71).  Linking with contemporary body art gives Aaron more humanity and makes it easier for audiences to relate to him.  The focus in Titus on the converging societies of Moors, Goths and Romans reminds audiences that modern society has not yet eclipsed ethnic and religious hostility, nor had it during Shakespeare's time (Keller and Rowe 72).

            The critical themes presented by Titus converge in the portrayal of Young Lucius, the boy who observes all of these allusions to modern society.  To link Young Lucius to the modern day, the film begins with the young boy acting out a scene of violence.  The boy is involved in this wanton display by playing with army men, roman soldiers, and wearing a bag over his head as a sort of play helmet.  The glow of an off-screen television set suggests the young boy's behavior is linked to the bombardment of media and images, which foreshadows his role as a spectator through the events of the play.  Like modern children, Young Lucius is affected by his surroundings. His television is the ultimate representation of focused viewing.  After he is whisked away to ancient Rome, his role as a viewer is solidified by witnessing murder after murder, experiencing the aftermath of his aunt's rape, and helping serve a cannibalistic feast to Tamora and Saturninus.

            The experience of Young Lucius highlights Taymor's modernization of the message.  As Elsie Walker claims, "Conversely, for Taymor, Titus is as much about violence as it is about how we experience violence as entertainment" (197).  Young Lucius emulates the violence he sees on television, his entertainment, and later becomes accustomed to real violence around him.  Taymor plays on the theme already presented by Shakespeare of a cycle of violence that forms violent tendencies in children. After being instructed to send a message to Chiron and Demetrius on behalf of his grandfather, Young Lucius exclaims, "Aye with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire" (4.2 118).  Instead of being a spectator, he begins to actively engage and see himself in the context of the violence around him.  Another example follows shortly after as he laughs hysterically in the scene that depicts the killing of the black fly, finding humor in the idea of Aaron's demise.

            The actions of Young Lucius mirror contemporary times as his emulation of the ancient Romans and television converge.  The modern day setting shows how "His headgear, a paper bag 'helmet,' suggests his childish emulation of the 'real' soldiers into whose orbit he will soon tumble" (Keller and Rowe 75).  Much like Taymor's suggestion of Chiron and Demetrius in their rec-room, the character of Young Lucius suggests that whether he watches the ancient Romans or his television he will imitate the behavior of those around him.  Both the ancient Romans and contemporary television promote racism, sexism, and violence.  The Roman public engaged in entertainments such as gladiator sports, while advances in technology have allowed contemporary children a glimpse of ultra-violent content through a myriad of different media.

            The portrayal of violence in Titus gives audiences a new take on a classic Shakespeare play that still holds relevance in present times.  Taymor asks audiences to think about how they interact and promote violence while not displaying violence for the sake of a gory spectacle (Lindroth 110).  What Taymor has done is create a film that refreshes a several-hundred year old theme which still holds true in modern society. As Mary Lindroth claims, "Titus offers young audiences something that they do not expect from a Shakespeare film—the thrill of identification" (108).  Giving Titus Andronicus a modern dress allows a new audience to experience and understand the themes woven into the play.  It is not the theme of Titus Andronicus that requires updating, but the presentation.  While the essential message of the play is timeless and relates completely to human nature, Taymor opens the play to a wider spectrum of individuals who may never read Shakespeare or attend a theatre production, but can still experience the tragedy, loss, and revenge of the Anronici through film. 

Works Cited

Baker, Roberta. Early Modern Tragedy, Gender, and Performance, 1984-2000: The Destined Livery. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. Print.

 Cartelli, Thomas, and Katherine Rowe. New Wave Shakespeare on Screen. Cambridge: Polity, 2007. Print.

Johnson-Haddad, Miranda. "A Time for Titus: An Interview with Julie Taymor." Shakespeare on Film 18.4 (2000): 34-36. Print.

Lindroth, Mary, and Maria De Luca. "Mayhem, Madness, Method: An Interview with Julie Taymor." Cineaste 25.3 (2000): 28. Print.

Lindroth, Mary. "'Some Device of Further Misery': Taymor's Titus Brings Shakespeare to Film Audiences with a Twist."Literature Film Quarterly 29.2 (2001): 107. Print.

McCandless, David. "A Tale of Two Tituses: Julie Taymor's Vision on Stage and Screen." Shakespeare Quarterly 53.4 (2002): 487-511. Print.

Shakespeare, William. Titus Andronicus. Ed. Russ McDonald.  New York: Penguin Books, 2000. Print.

Titus. Dir. Julie Taymor. Perf. Anthony Hopkins, Alan Cumming. Fox Searchlight, 1999. Film.

Walker, Elsie. "'Now is a time to storm': Julie Taymor's 'Titus' (2000)." Literature Film Quarterly 30.3 (2002): 40. Print.