Friday, September 10, 2010

Shakespeare as a Figure of Disorder





An Essay on Criticism

(Snip)

Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave DISORDER PART,
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
(snip)
But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
SEIZES YOUR FAME, and puts his LAWS in force. -- Alexander Pope

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figures of order

The following figures name the means by which sounds, letters, words,
or ideas can be artfully ordered and arranged for effect, and as such
fall under the the third of the four categories of change,
transposition.

The idea of achieving the the most effective order for an entire
speech is emphasized in the second canon of rhetoric, arrangement, and
particularly when considering the partitio (division or outline) of a
speech. Some of the figures below pertain to ordering an entire
discourse, including certain figures of division and digression.
Similarly, some figures, though not pertaining necessarily to parts of
an oration, concern the artful ordering of concepts. Most of the
following figures are for arranging rhetorical effects through
manipulating word order. Some concern the rearrangement of letters
within words. Finally, some of the figures of order are considered to
be vices.

* Figures ordering parts of a speech, or ordering concepts
* Figures altering the order of words
* Figures altering the order of letters within words
* Figures of Disorder (Vices)

(snip)

Figures of Disorder (Vices)

* cacosyntheton
The incorrect or unpleasant ordering of words
* synchysis
The confused arrangement of words in a sentence. Hyperbaton or
anastrophe taken to an obscuring extreme, either accidentally or
purposefully.
* hysterologia
Interrupting the order of a preposition and its object with an
inserted phrase

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Disorder \Dis*or"der\, n. [Pref. dis- + order: cf. F.
d['e]sordre.]
1. Want of order or regular disposition; lack of arrangement;
confusion; disarray; as, the troops were thrown into
disorder; the papers are in disorder.

2. Neglect of order or system; irregularity.

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And
snatch a grace beyond the reach of art. --Pope.

3. Breach of public order; disturbance of the peace of
society; tumult. --Shak.

4. Disturbance of the functions of the animal economy of the
soul; sickness; derangement. ``Disorder in the body.''
--Locke.

Syn: Irregularity; disarrangement; confusion; tumult; bustle;
disturbance; disease; illness; indisposition; sickness;
ailment; malady; distemper. See Disease.

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Figuring Disorder:



This Figure, that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the Graver had a strife
with Nature, to out-doo the life :

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SONS OF EUTAXIA - ‘arrangement’, ‘order’, ‘regularity’ (eutaxy)

ataxy - disorder
ataktos; to be (i.e. act) irregular:--behave self disorderly.

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Cynthia's Revels -- Jonson

Act V. Scene IX.

The Second Masque.

Mercury, as a Page.

Sister of Phœbus, to whose bright Orb we owe, that
we not complain of his absence; These four Brethren
(for they are Brethren, and SONS OF EUTAXIA, a Lady
known, and highly belov'd of your resplendent Deity)
not able to be absent, when Cynthia held a Solemnity,
officiously insinuate themselves into thy presence: For,
as there are four Cardinal Vertues, upon which the
whole Frame of the Court doth move, so are these

[column break]

the four Cardinal properties, without which, the body
of Complement moveth not. With these four Silver
Javelins (which they bear in their Hands) they sup-
port in Princes Courts the state of the Presence, as by
office they are obliged; which, though here they may
seem superfluous, yet for honours sake, they thus pre-
sume to visit thee, having also been employ'd in the
Palace of Queen Perfection. And though to them that
would make themselves gracious to a Goddess, Sacrifices
were fitter than Presents, or Impresses, yet they both
hope thy Favour, and (in place of either) use several Sym-
bols, containing the Titles of thy Imperial Dignity.
First, the hithermost, in the changeable blue and
green Robe, is the commendably-fashion'd Gallant,
Eucosmos; whose Courtly Habit is the grace of the Pre-
sence, and delight of the surveying Eye: whom La-
dies understand by the names of NEAT and ELEGANT. His
Symbol is Divæ Virgini, in which he would express thy
Deities principal Glory, which hath ever been Vir-
ginity.
(SNIP)

Cynthia:

Once more, we cast the slumber of our thanks
On your ta'n toil, which here let take an end.
And that we not mistake your several worths,
Nor you our favour, from your selves remove
What makes you not your selves, those Clouds of Mask:
[They unmask.
"Particular Pains, particular Thanks do ask.
How! let me view you. Ha! are we contemn'd?
Is there so little awe of our Disdain,
That any (under trust of their Disguise)
Should mix themselves with others of the Court,
And (without Forehead) boldly press so far,
As farther none? How apt is Lenity
To be abus'd? Severity to be loath'd?
And yet, how much more doth the seeming Face
Of Neighbour-Vertues, and their borrowed Names,
Add of lewd Boldness to loose Vanities?
Who would have thought that Philautia durst
Or have usurped Noble Storges Name,
Or with that Theft have ventur'd on our Eyes?
Who would have thought, that all of them should hope
So much of our Continence, as to come
To grace themselves with Titles not their own?
In stead of Med'cins, have we Maladies?
And such Imposthumes as Phantaste is,
Grow in our Palace? We must lance these Sores,
Or all will putrifie. Nor are these all,
For we suspect a farther Fraud than this:
Take off our Vail, that Shadows may depart,
And Shapes appear: Beloved Arete! —— So,
Another Face of Things presents it self,
Than did of late. What! feather'd Cupid mask'd,
And mask'd like Anteros? And stay! more strange!
Dear Mercury, our Brother, like a Page,
To countenance the Ambush of the Boy?
Nor endeth our Discovery as yet:
Gelaia, like a Nymph, that but e're-while
(In male Attire) did serve Anaides?
Cupid came hither to find Sport and Game,
Who heretofore hath been to conversant
Among our Train, but never felt Revenge;
And Mercury bare Cupid company.
Cupid, we must confess, this time of Mirth
(Proclaim'd by us) gave opportunity
To thy Attempts, although no Privilege;
Tempt us no farther; we cannot endure
Thy Presence longer; vanish hence, away.
You, Mercury, we must entreat to stay,
And hear what we determine of the rest;
For in this Plot we well perceive your Hand.
But (for we mean not a Censorian Task,
And yet to lance these Ulcers grown so ripe)
Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two
We give the Charge; impose what Pains you please:
Th' incurable cut off, the rest reform,
Remembring ever what we first decreed,
Since Revels were proclaim'd, let now none bleed.
Are. How well Diana can distinguish Times,
And sort her Censures, keeping to her self
The Doom of Gods, leaving the rest to us?
Come, cite them, Crites, first, and then proceed.
Cri. First, Philautia, (for she was the first)
Then light Gelaia, in Aglaias Name;
Thirdly, Phantaste, and Moria next,
Main Follies all, and of the Female Crew:
AMORPHUS, or EUCOSMOS COUNTERFEIT,
Voluptuous Hedon, ta'ne for Eupathes,
Brazen Anaides, and Asotus last,
With his two Pages, Morus and Prosaites;
And thou, the Traveller's Evil, Cos, approach,
Impostors all, and Male DEFORMITIES ——
Are. Nay, forward, for I delegate my Power,
And will that at thy Mercy they do stand,
Whom they so oft, so plainly scorn'd before.
"'Tis VERTUE which they want, and wanting it,
"Honour no Garment to their Backs can fit.
Then, Crites, practise thy Discretion.

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Then, Crites, practise thy DISCRETION. -- Jonson

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Puttenham, Shakespeare, and the abuse of rhetoric
Studies in English Literature, 1500 - 1900; Houston; Winter 1996;
Hillman, David
abstract:
Hillman examines the way in which criss-crossing shaped the uses of the word "discretion" in early modern England. George Puttenham's "The Art of English Poesie" and some of William Shakespeare's plays are examined for their use of the word "discretion."
(snip)
...The term came into prominence in a wide range of texts and acquired a new range of meanings during the early modern period. According to the OED, the word had, prior to 1590, denoted personal "judgement," "discernment," or "prudence," as well as juridical "power of disposal" (in addition to being an honorific title, in such phrases as "your high and wise discretion").(6) But early modern discourse saw a burgeoning of overlapping meanings in a variety of cultural spheres. These included personal attributes (tact, propriety of behavior, or secrecy--in explicit contrast to madness, impertinence, and rashness); a social classification (the separation of those who possess these attributes--the "discreet"--from those who do not, and of those who have reached the "age of discretion" from those who have not); the legal power to enforce this stratification (the authority or "discretion of the law"); and the ostensibly purely aesthetic separations of literary decorum (the discrezione or "discernment" of Italian neoclassical literary theory; the Indo-European base of the word--* (s)ker, TO CUT--is in fact the same as that of "CRITIC").
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Jonson, Cynthia's Revels

Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two
We give the Charge; impose what Pains you please:
TH' INCURABLE CUT OFF, the rest REFORM,
Remembring ever what we first decreed,
Since Revels were proclaim'd, let now none bleed.
Arete. How well Diana can distinguish Times,
And sort her Censures, keeping to her self
The Doom of Gods, leaving the rest to us?
Come, cite them, Crites, first, and then proceed.
Crites. First, Philautia, (for she was the first)
Then light Gelaia, in Aglaias Name;
Thirdly, Phantaste, and Moria next,
Main Follies all, and of the Female Crew:
Amorphus, or Eucosmos Counterfeit,
Voluptuous Hedon, ta'ne for Eupathes,
Brazen Anaides, and Asotus last,
With his two Pages, Morus and Prosaites;
And thou, the Traveller's Evil, Cos, approach,
Impostors all, and Male DEFORMITIES ----
Are. Nay, forward, for I delegate my Power,
And will that at thy Mercy they do stand,
Whom they so oft, so plainly scorn'd before.
"'Tis Vertue which they want, and wanting it,
"HONOUR NO GARMENT TO THEIR BACKS CAN FIT.
Then, Crites, practise thy DISCRETION.

(crites - criticus in quarto)


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Jonson practices his 'discretion':

To the Reader.
This Figure, that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare CUT,
Wherein the Graver had a strife
with Nature, to out-doo the life :

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An Essay on Criticism
by Alexander Pope

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.


'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
Their generation's so equivocal;
To tell them would a hundred tongues required,
Or one vain Wit's, that might a hundred tire.

But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a Critic's noble name,
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
How far your Genius, Taste, and Learning go,
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where Sense and Dulness meet.

Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
As on the land while here the ocean gains,
In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
Thus in the soul while Memory prevails,
The solid power of Understanding fails;
Where beams of warm Imagination play,
The Memory's soft figures melt away.
One Science only will one genius fit;
So vast is Art, so narrow human wit:
Now only bounded to peculiar arts,
But oft in those confin'd to single parts.
Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,
By vain ambition still to make them more:
Each might his sev'ral province well command,
Would all but stoop to what they understand.

First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same;
Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
One clear, unchanged, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of Art.
Art from that fund each just supply provides,
Works without show, and without pomp presides.
In some fair body thus th'informing soul
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole;
Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains,
Itself unseen, but in th' effects remains.
Some, to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse,
Want as much more to turn it to its use;
For Wit and Judgment often are at strife
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
'Tis more to guide than spur the Muse's steed,
Restrain his fury than provoke his speed:
The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows most true mettel when you check his course.

Those rules of old, discover'd, not devised,
Are Nature still, but Nature methodized;
Nature, like Liberty, is but restrain'd
By the same laws which first herself ordain'd.

Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites
When to repress and when indulge our flights:
High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd,
And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;
Held from afar, aloft, th'immortal prize,
And urged the rest by equal steps to rise.
Just precepts thus from great examples giv'n,
She drew from them what they derived from Heav'n.
The gen'rous Critic fann'd the poet's fire,
And taught the world with reason to admire.
Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid prov'd,
To dress her charms, and make her more belov'd:
But following Wits from that intention stray'd:
Who could not win the mistress woo'd the maid;
Against the Poets their own arms they turn'd,
Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd.
So modern 'pothecaries taught the art
By doctors' bills to play the doctor's part,
Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,
Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey;
Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they;
Some drily plain, without invention's aid,
Write dull receipts how poems may be made;
These leave the sense their learning to display,
And those explain the meaning quite away.

You then whose judgment the right course would steer,
Know well each ancient's proper character;
His fable, subject, scope in every page;
Religion, country, genius of his age:
Without all these at once before your eyes,
Cavil you may, but never criticise.
Be Homer's works your study and delight,
Read them by day, and meditate by night;
Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring,
And trace the Muses upward to their spring.
Still with itself compared, his text peruse;
And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.

When first young Maro in his boundless mind
A work t'outlast immortal Rome design'd,
Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law,
And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw;
But when t'examine ev'ry part he came,
Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.
Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold design,
And rules as strict his labour'd work confine
As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line.
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
To copy Nature is to copy them.

Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,
For there's a happiness as well as care.
Music resembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
And which a master-hand alone can reach.
If, where the rules not far enough extend,
(Since rules were made but to promote their end)
Some lucky license answer to the full
Th'intent proposed, that license is a rule.
Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,
May boldly deviate from the common track.
Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
In prospects thus some objects please our eyes,
Which out of Nature's common order rise,
The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.
But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.

I know there are to whose presumptuous thoughts
Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults.
Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear,
Consider'd singly, or beheld too near,
Which, but proportion'd to their light or place,
Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
A prudent chief not always must display
His powers in equal ranks and fair array,
But with th'occasion and the place comply,
Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

Still green with bays each ancient altar stands
Above the reach of sacrilegious hands,
Secure from flames, from Envy's fiercer rage,
Destructive war, and all-involving Age.
See from each clime the learn'd their incense bring!
Hear in all tongues consenting Paeans ring!
In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd,
And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind.
Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days,
Immortal heirs of universal praise!
Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow;
Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound,
And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
O may some spark of your celestial fire
The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
(That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights,
Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes)
To teach vain Wits a science little known,
T'admire superior sense, and doubt their own.

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Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
SEIZES YOUR FAME, and puts his laws in force. -- Alexander Pope

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Seize \Seize\, v. t. [imp. & p. p. Seized; p. pr. & vb. n.
Seizing.] [OE. seisen, saisen, OF. seisir, saisir, F.
saisir, of Teutonic origin, and akin to E. set. The meaning
is properly, to set, put, place, hence, to put in possession
of. See Set, v. t.]
1. To fall or rush upon suddenly and lay hold of; to gripe or
grasp suddenly; to reach and grasp.

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..No rotten talke brokes for a laugh; no page
Commenc'd man by th'instructions of thy stage;
No bargaining line there; no provoc'tive verse;
Nothing but what Lucretia might rehearse;
No need to make good count'nance ill, and use
The plea of strict life for a looser Muse:
No Woman rul'd thy quill: we can descry
No verse borne under any Cynthia's eye:
Thy Starre was Judgement onely, and right sense,
Thy selfe being to thy selfe an influence.
Stout beauty is thy grace: Sterne pleasures do
Present delights, but mingle horrours too:
thy Muse doth thus like Joves fierce girle appeare,
With a faire hand, but GRASPING of a SPEARE...

William Cartwright, Jonsonus Virbius

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'Seizing' Shakespeare's Fame:


From _To the Deceased Author of these Poems_ [William Cartwright]

Jasper Mayne

…And as thy Wit was like a Spring, so all
The soft streams of it we may Chrystall call:
No cloud of Fancie, no mysterious stroke,
No Verse like those which antient Sybils spoke;
No Oracle of Language, to amaze
The Reader with a dark, or Midnight Phrase,
Stands in thy Writings, which are all pure Day,
A cleer, bright Sunchine, and the mist away.
That which Thou wrot’st was sense, and that sense good,
Things not first written, and then understood:
Or if sometimes thy Fancy soar’d so high
As to seem lost to the unlearned Eye,
‘Twas but like generous Falcons, when high flown,
Which mount to make the Quarrey more their own.

For thou to Nature had’st joyn’d Art, and skill.
In Thee BEN JOHNSON still HELD Shakespeare’s QUILL:
A Quill, RUL'D by sharp Judgement, and such Laws,
As a well studied Mind, and Reason draws.
Thy Lamp was cherish’d with suppolied of Oyle,
Fetch’d from the Romane and the Graecian soyle. (snip)

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Horace Of the Art of Poetry - transl. Ben Jonson

...Most writers, noble sire and either son,
Are, with the likeness of the truth, undone.
Myself for shortness labour, and I grow
Obscure. This, striving to run smooth,
and flow,
Hath neither soul nor sinews. Lofty he
Professing greatness, SWELLS; that, low by lee,
Creeps on the ground; too safe, afraid of storm.
This seeking, in a various kind, to form
One thing PRODIGIOUSLY, paints in the woods
A dolphin, and a boar amid the floods.
So shunning faults to greater fault doth lead,
When in a WRONG AND ARTLESS WAY WE TREAD.

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To my (self)beloved Master:

Horace, of the Art of Poetrie
transl. Ben Jonson

If to Quintilius, you recited ought:
Hee'd say, Mend this, good friend, and this; "Tis naught.
If you denied, you had no better straine,
And twice, or thrice had 'ssayd it, still in vaine:
Hee'd bid, blot all: and to the anvile bring
Those ill-torn'd Verses, to new hammering.
Then: If your fault you rather had defend
Then change. *No word, or worke, more would he spend
In vaine, but you, and yours, you should love still
Alone, without a rivall, by his will*.

A wise, and honest man will cry out shame
On ARTELESS Verse; the hard ones he will BLAME;
Blot out the careless, with his turned pen;
Cut off superfluous ornaments; and when
They're darke, bid cleare this: all that's doubtfull wrote
Reprove; and, what is to be changed, not:
Become an Aristarchus. And, not say,
Why should I grieve my friend, this TRIFLING WAY?
These trifles into serious mischiefs lead
The man once mock'd, and SUFFERED WRONG TO TREAD.

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