Reading 'PRIDE AND PREJUDICE' by Jane Austen, Part-I

INTRODUCTION:

Jane Austen began writing the novel which later became 'Pride and Prejudice' in October of 1796 and finished it by August of the following year; she was then twenty-one years old. Little is known of this early version of the story beyond its original title: 'First Impressions'. Three months after Miss Austen completed work on the book, her father offered it to a publisher in the hope that it would make it into print. The publisher refused without ever having seen the manuscript.

Fortunately for all of her admirers, whether Austen was discouraged or not by her first rejection, she continued to write; though, it was not until the winter of 1811, fully fourteen years after finishing 'First Impressions', that she again picked up that manuscript and began revising it into the version we know today as 'Pride and Prejudice'. This occurred in the wake of her first publishing success--the publication of 'Sense and Sensibility' on 30 October 1811. 'Pride and Prejudice' was far more fortunate than its earlier incarnation; it was accepted for publication and was presented to the world on 28 January 1813.

With the passage of time, the novel gained more and more popularity. 'Pride and Prejudice', like other novels of Austen, portrays the middle-class and country-squires' lives, especially the vicissitudes of the young lovers. Austen's characterization is a bit sentimental, yet it seldom becomes flat. Realism is a marked characteristic of Austen's novels. She never stepped outside her familiar realm, which is the chief reason of her being able to faithfully represent the said life. In the words of the author herself, 'Pride and Prejudice' is "rather too light and bright and sparkling". However, the readers never fail to find out the genial wit and humour present in each chapter of the novel. The prose style of Austen is remarkable for its studied effortlessness.

The immense popularity of 'Pride and Prejudice' led its being made into films and plays a number of times. In 'The Big Read', a BBC-survey of Britain's most loved books of all times in 2003, 'Pride and Prejudice' was voted as the second loved book of the nation, only after Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings'. 

LIST OF CHARACTERS:

Mrs. Bennet – The mother of the five Bennet daughters and an avid matchmaker, she is often described and acts vulgar, embarrassing her daughters and disinteresting suitors and their families. She is often very quick to push them towards potential husbands and acts with minimal intelligence on certain matters, relying instinct instead.

Mr. Bennet – Largely quiet and witty with his replies, Mr. Bennet is a country gentleman and father of five daughters. He occasionally makes rash and poor decisions but is considered in higher regard than his more crass wife.

Jane Bennet – The eldest of the Bennet daughters is considered very beautiful and shy and often acts without outward emotion, confusing those around her. She is good natured and only sees the good in others, at times rather naively.

Elizabeth Bennet - The protagonist of the novel and the second Bennet daughter, Elizabeth is considered witty and sarcastic with her own streak of pride. She is a little plain compared to her sisters, but has a much keener wit and eventually falls in love with Mr. Darcy despite her early dislike of him.

Mary Bennet - The only sister of the five who does not often participate in social events or leave the house, Mary starts the book in her room reading and ends it in her room reading, with her mother begging her attentions.

Kitty Bennet – As the fourth daughter, Kitty often goes with Lydia to meet with the soldiers. She plays a very small role in the course of the novel save to visit and discuss matters with her other sisters.

Lydia Bennet – The youngest Bennet daughter as well as the least thoughtful of the five. She makes rash decisions and though she is Mrs. Bennet’s favorite, she finds herself shunned by her father and the rest of her family when she runs off and nearly elopes with Wickham.

George Wickham – A childhood acquaintance of Darcy, Wickham is a military officer who pretends to be slighted by Darcy in order to gain favor with women. He begged money of him and almost eloped with his sister before Darcy cut him off and eventually he does the same with Lydia and the Bennet family.

Mr. Collins – The cousin and nearest male heir of Mr. Bennet, Mr. Collins will receive the property when Mr. Bennet dies. He is a clergyman for Lady de Bourgh’s estate and acts with a degree of self-importance that angers Mr. Bennet.

Charles Bingley – The first gentleman and suitor introduced in the book is Bingley, the young gentleman who moves to within 3 miles of the Bennets and excites their prospects of a strong match with Jane. He falls in love with Jane early but is talked out of the match by his sisters and Darcy due to the low standing of the Bennet family and Jane’s apparent disinterest.

Mr. Darcy – A wealthy gentleman from Derbyshire, Darcy is at first a rude and unpleasant fellow, full of pride and ill will who eventually comes to love Elizabeth and change his mannerisms for her. He shows his love for her by helping her sister in the marriage to Wickham and by being cordial and polite after her refusal of marriage. He eventually succeeds in winning her love in return.

Miss Bingley – Largely interested in Mr. Darcy as a match, Miss Bingley is shallow and petty, pretending to befriend Jane and Elizabeth while bad mouthing them both behind their backs. Her attitude is considered ill by many of the books other characters and she plays a central role in keeping Bingley away from Jane when they move back to London.

Lady Catherina de Bourgh – An aunt of Darcy and mother of his prospective match, she is very arrogant and domineering and goes so far as to travel to the Bennet home and threaten Elizabeth when she hears a rumor of her possible marriage to Darcy.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner – Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, they are instrumental in assisting with the marriage of Lydia, and the reunion of Darcy and Elizabeth. They are both highly regarded by all members of the family and largely liked.

SUMMARY OF THE NOVEL:

Chapter 1

Here we are introduced to Mr and Mrs. Bennet, both of the Longbourn Estate. Mrs. Bennet arrives with some interesting news that a wealthy gentleman from the north has arrived in Netherfield, moved to a nearby estate. She has plans immediately to marry him to one of her daughters. She warns her husband that she will send him to see the new neighbor Bingley as soon as he arrives. She also reminds him of their daughters while he muses on how Elizabeth is his favorite daughter with “something more of quickness than her sisters”. Knowingly he questions why his visit to Bingley is so important.

Chapter 2

Elizabeth and three of her sisters are introduced, including Kitty, Mary, and Lydia. After Mr. Bennet’s early teasing over visiting Bingley, in chapter 2 it is revealed that he was first in line to meet Mr. Bingley, and subsequently the rest of the chapter is spent considering when Bingley will visit the Bennets in response.

Chapter 3

Bingley returns Mr. Bennet’s visit and the Bennets invite him to have dinner with them but he declines as he has business in town. When he returns for a nearby ball thrown by Sir William and Lady Lucas, he brings his own sisters and Mr. Darcy. The first introduction of Darcy is not favorable as the ladies observe that he is rich and attractive but too proud. He makes his own comments on Elizabeth, that she is not quite “handsome enough” for his tastes, turning down someone’s comment for him to ask her to dance. Jane, meanwhile dances with Bingley and excites Mrs. Bennet.

Chapter 4

In each other’s confidence, Jane tells Elizabeth that she admires Bingley and that she enjoys his sisters’ company as well. Elizabeth is not so easily charmed and finds her sister too easy to impress, “blind to the follies and nonsense of others”. She finds his sisters proud all by themselves and too eager for Bingley to make his own estate (he inherited his money from his father). Miss Bingley, the unmarried of his sisters will live with him in Netherfield and the friendship between Darcy and Bingley is revealed to be rather deep with Bingley having a high regard for Darcy’s intelligence.

Chapter 5

Chapter five introduces more of Sir William and Lady Lucas and their family, which is quite large with many children. Their oldest daughter Charlotte is one of Elizabeth’s best friends and the chapter shows the conversations between the Lucas and Bennet daughters as they discuss Mr. Darcy and his pride, including his unwillingness to talk to a woman he sat beside for as much as half an hour and how rude he was to Elizabeth. They agree however that much of her being upset is because he was rude to her.

Chapter 6

In chapter six, the Bennet sisters spend more time with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, although Bingley’s sisters are largely disinterested in spending time with anyone but Jane and Elizabeth. Elizabeth and Charlotte discuss Jane’s budding relationship with Bingley and the two disagree over how she should show her feelings, with Elizabeth agreeing with Jane’s coy approach and Charlotte thinking she should be more straightforward, lest nothing come of it.

Also in this chapter, Darcy begins to show a bit more interest in Elizabeth. Beyond his early observations that she was just tolerable, he begins to find her much more interesting and when he willingly takes her hand to dance at another party at Sir William’s, she turns him down. It is here though that Bingley’s sisters discover that Darcy has an interest in Elizabeth.

Chapter 7

The two youngest Bennet sisters, Kitty and Lydia, visit their Aunt (via their mother) Mrs. Phillips in Meryton. There is a military base of sorts in Meryton and in due time the two become acquainted with the officers in the regiment, learning more on each visit.

Jane is invited to Netherfield to have supper with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst (not to mention Bingley himself) and is advised by her mother to go on horseback so that if there is rain, she will be invited to stay the night. In the course of the three mile ride, Jane is soaked by the rain and does in fact stay there, but gets a cold in the process. Elizabeth therefore visits her to check on her health and ends up staying herself at the request of her sister.

Chapter 8

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst however do not fully appreciate Elizabeth and take the opportunity to jab at her pride and lack of manners whenever she is not around. They voice their empathy for Jane as well because of her family and lack of connections. They worry for her chances at making a good match.

That evening, the Bingleys, Hursts, and Darcy have a card game in which more details regarding Pemberley – Darcy’s own estate – and his sisters are revealed.

Chapter 9

The rest of the Bennet women arrive to visit Jane – Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia – and it is generally decided that she should not yet return home as she is not quite perfectly healthy. Lydia plays her part well and mentions to Bingley that he had made mention of a ball being held at his own estate, to which he agrees when Jane is feeling better. Mrs. Bennet discusses the differences between country and city living with the Bingley sisters, after which they once again take to jabs at the Bennet family. Darcy, however will not take the opportunity himself to join in mocking Elizabeth.

Chapter 10

As Jane continues recovering, with the women reading, writing, and playing music, Darcy asks Elizabeth to dance. She once again turns him down, unwilling to allow him “the pleasure of despising” her and her taste. Miss Bingley grows increasingly jealous of Darcy’s attentions for Elizabeth, a girl she finds beneath her.

Chapter 11

With Jane finally feeling better, she arrives in the drawing room and spends a few hours of the evening talking with Bingley in the drawing room. Meanwhile, Miss Bingley engages him in discussion of the ball, to which he replies that he was serious about having one. She also notices that Darcy does not pay her any attentions but that when she asks Elizabeth to walk with her, he takes note.

Darcy and Elizabeth have a conversation of their own on the nature of pride in each of them. She comments that his problem is a “propensity to hate everybody” and he responds by saying that she tries to “willfully misunderstand” those same people.

Chapter 12

With Jane’s recovery complete, she and Elizabeth decide to return to the Bennet household. However, their mother makes excuses as to why they cannot use the carriage to return. Jane is finally coerced into borrowing Bingley’s carriage, but it means they will need to wait for one more day to leave.

Meanwhile, Darcy notes that he has been paying too much attention to Elizabeth and decides to speak with her less. The next day the Bennet sisters return home to a mother who is not entirely happy that Jane has returned, having wanted her to stay with Bingley as long as possible. Kitty and Lydia do their part by spilling the details of the military officers in Meryton.

Chapter 13

Mr. Bennet announces, after some playfulness in withholding the name, that his cousin Mr. Collins has written him a letter and will be staying with them for a few days. He is the heir of Mr. Bennet’s estate because he has no sons. For his part, Mr. Collins is guilty over being the next in line for property that should not rightfully be his. He is a man of the church as well and has been given an important patronage. Mr. Bennet does not appreciate the letter however and decides that his cousin is too self important. When Mr. Collins arrives, he is the picture of perfect manners and compliments and it is soon realized that he intends to marry one of the Bennet girls.

Chapter 14

Mr. Collins goes on at length during dinner about his patronage, the Lady Catherin de Bourgh and her residence in Rosings Park. He continues on and relays how he is exceptionally well suited at flattering Lady de Bourgh and her daughter Miss de Bourgh. Mr. Bennet is not impressed and finds his cousin rather silly.

Chapter 15

Very quickly, Mr. Collins decides that due to his obligation in the inheritance he will ask for Jane’s hand in marriage, but is dissuaded when Mrs. Bennet tells him that there is another to whom she will likely soon be engaged. Quickly, Mr. Collins changes his choice to Elizabeth. The Bennet sisters, accompanied by Collins take a walk to Meryton where they run across Mr. Denny, one of Lydia and Kitty’s officer friends. He has with him a Mr. Wickham, a recently commissioned corps member of Mr. Denny, whom Elizabeth finds rather appealing. As the group meets and discusses matters, Bingley and Darcy arrive, to which Elizabeth takes note of both Darcy and Wickham’s change in color at meeting each other, with Darcy appearing angry at the officer.

The sisters quickly move on with Mr. Collins to visit Mrs. Phillips, who invites them to dinner the next day. At the dinner there will bee numerous other guests including some of the officers and Mr. Wickham.

Chapter 16

The Bennet sisters and Mr. Collins arrive at Mrs. Phillips’ for dinner the next day where Mr. Wickham is as well. Wickham and Elizabeth engage in a long evening of conversation in which the topic of Mr. Darcy is brought up and her disgust with his pride. Wickham speaks highly of Darcy’s father as “one of the best men that ever breathed”, who bestowed upon his son a decent sum that would have kept him well off for as long as he lived. He also reveals that he grew up with Darcy as his father was steward for Darcy’s father and that in the will Wickham was to receive a post as a Clergy of one the Rectory that Darcy’s family oversees. However, Darcy did not honor the will, which angers Elizabeth to no end. Wickham expands by adding that Darcy’s sister is equally full of pride and that he is Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s nephew and is intended to marry Miss de Bourgh. Elizabeth is left for the evening to dwell on Wickham’s words.

Chapter 17

Elizabeth and Jane discuss Wickham’s revelations from the night before. Jane, as one who always looks for the good, entreats Elizabeth to consider that there might be a misunderstanding somehow as no man would disrespect his father’s wishes in such a manner. Elizabeth believes Wickham however. The Bingley sisters arrive in the meantime to invite everyone to the Netherfield ball, though they leave quickly to avoid speaking with the younger Bennet sisters or their mother. The Bennets are duly excited and all of them agree to attend, even Mary, who never participates in these events. Mr. Collins asks Elizabeth for the first two dances, which she is disappointed by as she had hoped to save those for Mr. Wickham.

Chapter 18

Upon arriving at the ball, Elizabeth realizes that Wickham would likely not attend because of Darcy. Mr. Denny relays that he had to go to town on business instead. Elizabeth is mortified in the first two dances by Mr. Collins being “awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it.” Darcy once again asks for her hand to dance and she relents this time, offering him the next two dances.

To throw him off, she breaches conversation during the dance and quickly turns to the topic of Wickham, hoping to disrupt him. He only states that Wickham is very good at socializing and making friends, but has problems with keeping those friends. Sir William drops nearby and hints at future congratulations for Bingley and Jane.

The night continues and Elizabeth is duly embarrassed by her family as her mother uncouthly reminds everyone of Jane and Bingley’s budding relationship and her sister Mary does a poor job of singing. The last to leave, the Bennets are not missed by Bingley’s sisters.

Chapter 19

Mr. Collins arrives to the drawing room and asks Mrs. Bennet and Kitty for some alone time with Elizabeth. She tries to keep her family with her but realizes that she might as well deal with the inevitable. Collins lays out why he is proposing, including Lady de Bourgh’s advice to do so and proposes to her. Elizabeth however, rejects him as she says they would not make each other happy. Collins finds her rejection to be an attempt at modesty and decides to wait and ask again. Despite her avid declaration that she will continue rejecting him, Collins believes that eventually he can woo her by asking again.

Chapter 20

Mrs. Bennet however is upset by Elizabeth’s refusal, regardless of how Collins feels. She decides she must convince her daughter to marry him and calls on her husband to help. She states that if Elizabeth refuses she will never talk to her again. For his part, Mr. Bennet says the opposite, not wanting Collins to marry into his family. Elizabeth continues to refuse and Charlotte soon arrives and learns of what has happened, taking the opportunity to get to know Collins.

Chapter 21

After he withdraws his suit to, Collins quickly begins to ignore Elizabeth in favor of Charlotte. The girls visit Meryton again where they run across Wickham. He relays that his absence at the ball was due to his desire to avoid Darcy. He walks her back home where she introduces him to her parents. Jane receives a letter shortly from Miss Bingley stating that the Bingleys have returned to London indefinitely and that Bingley will hopefully be marrying Georgiana, Darcy’s sister. Elizabeth does her part by relaying that it is likely the doing of Miss Bingley and not Bingley himself and that he will return shortly. However, Jane is incapable of believing that Bingley’s sisters could be so deceiving and so thinks that they must be looking out for what is best for him.

Chapter 22

The Bennets visit the Lucas’s the next day for dinner and Elizabeth relays her gratitude to Charlotte for spending time with Collins. However, it is revealed that much of that attention is in hopes of garnering his desire to her. They are soon engaged to be married and Elizabeth is shocked that her friend would agree to marry someone when there is no love and almost certain unhappiness. Collins leaves soon thereafter to his parish.

Chapter 23

When Sir William arrives to announce to the Bennets that Charlotte and Collins are engaged, Mrs. Bennet is angry all on her own. Charlotte and Elizabeth quickly change in each other’s company and Elizabeth believes they can no longer be truly close in light of what has happened. Mrs. Bennet, along with her anger over Collins, wonders if the Bingleys will return, upsetting Jane further. Elizabeth begins to fear herself that the Bingley sisters might be successful in their attempt to keep Bingley away from Jane.

Chapter 24

Miss Bingley sends yet another letter to Jane, informing her that they will be staying in London for the duration of the winter. Elizabeth finally tells Mrs. Bennet that her constantly talking of Bingley is bringing Jane pain. Caught up on her own problems, Elizabeth continues to talk against the marriage of Charlotte and Collins with Jane. She also tries to comfort her though, stating that Bingley’s sisters and Darcy are keeping him away from her. Wickham spends more time with the Bennets and soon the stories of Darcy’s ill treatment of him become public knowledge.

Chapter 25

Mr. Collins leaves again for his parish and Mrs. Bennet’s brother Mr. Gardiner and his wife arrive for Christmas. Mrs. Gardiner is very close to both Jane and Elizabeth and when she learns what has happened with Jane and Bingley and invites Jane to stay with her in London for a while.

                                                                                                      [to be continued]

THE FLY by Katherine Mansfield

'Y'are very snug in here,' piped old Mr Woodifield, and he peered out of the great, green leather armchair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. His talk was over; it was time for him to be off. But he did not want to go. Since he had retired, since his... stroke, the wife and the girls kept him boxed up in the house every day of the week except Tuesday. On Tuesday he was dressed and brushed and allowed to cut back to the City for the day. Though what he did there the wife and girls couldn't imagine. Made a nuisance of himself to his friends, they supposed.... Well, perhaps so. All the same, we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves. So there sat old Woodifield, smoking a cigar and staring almost greedily at the boss, who rolled in his once chair, stout, rosy, five years older than he, and still going strong, still at the helm. It did one good to see him.

Wistfully, admiringly, the old voice added, 'It's snug in here--upon my word!'

'Yes, it's comfortable enough,' agreed the boss, and he nipped the Financial Times with a paper-knife. As a matter of fact he was proud of his room; he liked to have it admired, especially by old Woodifield. It gave him a feeling of deep, solid satisfaction to be planted there in the midst of it in full view of that frail old figure in the muffler.

'I've had it done up lately,' he explained, as he had explained for the past--how many?--weeks. 'New carpet,' and he pointed to the bright red carpet with a pattern of large white rings. 'New furniture,' and he nodded towards the massive bookcase and the table with legs like twisted treacle. 'Electric heating!' He waved almost exultantly towards the five transparent, pearly sausages glowing so softly in the tilted copper pan.

But he did not draw old Woodifield's attention to the photograph over the table of a grave-looking boy in uniform standing in one of those spectral photographers' parks with photographers' storm-clouds behind him. It was not new. It had been there for over six years.

'There was something I wanted to tell you,' said old Woodifield, and his eyes grew dim remembering. 'Now what was it? I had it in my mind when I started out this morning.' His hands began to tremble, and patches of red showed above his beard.

Poor old chap, he's on his last pins, thought the boss. And, feeling kindly, he winked at the old man, and said jokingly, 'I tell you what. I've got a little drop of something here that'Il do you good before you go out into the cold again. It's beautiful stuff. It wouldn't hurt a child.' He took a key off his watch-chain, unlocked a cupboard below his desk, and drew forth a dark, squat bottle. 'That's the medicine,' said he. 'And the man from whom I got it told me on the strict Q.T. it came from the cellars at Windsor Cassel.'

Old Woodifield's mouth fell open at the sight. He couldn't have looked more surprised if the boss had produced a rabbit.

'It's whisky, ain't it?' he piped, feebly.

The boss turned the bottle and lovingly showed him the label. Whisky it was.

'D'you know,' said he, peering up at the boss wonderingly, 'they won't let me touch it at home.' And he looked as though he was going to cry.

'Ah, that's where we know a bit more than the ladies,' cried the boss, swooping across for two tumblers that stood on the table with the water-bottle, and pouring a generous finger into each. 'Drink it down. It'll do you good. And don't put any water with it. It's sacrilege to tamper with stuff like this. Ah!' He tossed off his, pulled out his handkerchief, hastily wiped his moustaches, and cocked an eye at old Woodifield, who was rolling his in his chaps.

The old man swallowed, was silent a moment, and then said faintly, 'It's nutty!'

But it warmed him; it crept into his chill old brain--he remembered.

'That was it,' he said, heaving himself out of his chair. 'I thought you'd like to know. The girls were in Belgium last week having a look at poor Reggie's grave, and they happened to come across your boy's. They're quite near each other, it seems.'

Old Woodifield paused, but the boss made no reply. Only a quiver in his eyelids showed that he heard.

'The girls were delighted with the way the place is kept,' piped the old voice. 'BeautifuIly looked after. Couldn't be better if they were at home. You've not been across, have yer?'

'No, no!' For various reasons the boss had not been across.

'There's miles of it,' quavered old Woodifield, 'and it's all as neat as a garden. Flowers growing on all the graves. Nice broad paths.' It was plain from his voice how much he liked a nice broad path.

The pause came again. Then the old man brightened wonderfully.

'D'you know what the hotel made the girls pay for a pot of jam?' he piped. 'Ten francs! Robbery, I call it. It was a little pot, so Gertrude says, no bigger than a half-crown. And she hadn't taken more than a spoonful when they charged her ten francs. Gertrude brought the pot away with her to teach 'em a lesson. Quite right, too; it's trading on our feelings. They think because we're over there having a look round we're ready to pay anything. That's what it is.' And he turned towards the door.

'Quite right, quite right!' cried the boss, though what was quite right he hadn't the least idea. He came round by his desk, followed the shuffling footsteps to the door, and saw the old fellow out. Woodifield was gone.

For a long moment the boss stayed, staring at nothing, while the grey-haired office messenger, watching him, dodged in and out of his cubby hole like a dog that expects to be taken for a run. Then: 'I'll see nobody for half an hour, Macey,' said the boss. 'Understand? Nobody at all.'

'Very good, sir.'

The door shut, the firm heavy steps recrossed the bright carpet, the fat body plumped down in the spring chair, and leaning forward, the boss covered his face with his hands. He wanted, he intended, he had arranged to weep....

It had been a terrible shock to him when old Woodifield sprang that remark upon him about the boy's grave. It was exactly as though the earth had opened and he had seen the boy lying there with Woodifield's girls staring down at him. For it was strange. Although over six years had passed away, the boss never thought of the boy except as lying unchanged, unblemished in his uniform, asleep for ever. 'My son!' groaned the boss. But no tears came yet. In the past, in the first months and even years after the boy's death, he had only to say those words to be overcome by such grief that nothing short of a violent fit of weeping could relieve him. Time, he had declared then, he had told everybody, could make no difference. Other men perhaps might recover, might live their loss down, but not he. How was it possible? His boy was an only son. Ever since his birth the boss had worked at building up this business for him; it had no other meaning if it was not for the boy. Life itself had come to have no other meaning. How on earth could he have slaved, denied himself, kept going all those years without the promise for ever before him of the boy's stepping into his shoes and carrying on where he left off?

And that promise had been so near being fulfilled. The boy had been in the office learning the ropes for a year before the war. Every morning they had started off together; they had come back by the same train. And what congratulations he had received as the boy's father! No wonder; he had taken to it marvellously. As to his popularity with the stag, every man jack of them down to old Macey couldn't make enough of the boy. And he wasn't in the least spoilt. No, he was just his bright, natural self, with the right word for everybody, with that boyish look and his habit of saying, 'Simply splendid.'

But all that was over and done with as though it never had been. The day had come when Macey had handed him the telegram that brought the whole place crashing about his head. 'Deeply regret to inform you....' And he had left the office a broken man, with his life in ruins.

Six years ago, six years.... How quickly time passed! It might have happened yesterday. The boss took his hands from his face; he was puzzled. Something seemed to be wrong with him. He wasn't feeling as he wanted to feel. He decided to get up and have a look at the boy's photograph. But it wasn't a favourite photograph of his; the expression was unnatural. It was cold, even stern-looking. The boy had never looked like that.

At that moment the boss noticed that a fly had fallen into his broad inkpot, and was trying feebly but desperately to clamber out again. Help! help! said those struggling legs. But the sides of the inkpot were wet and slippery; it till back again and began to swim. The boss took up a pen, picked the fly out of the ink, and shook it on to a piece of blotting-paper. For a fraction of a second it lay still on the dark patch that oozed round it. Then the front legs waved, took hold, and, pulling its small, sodden body up it began the immense task of cleaning the ink from its wings. Over and under, over and under, went a leg along a wing, as the stone goes over and under the scythe. Then there was a pause, while the fly, seeming to stand on the tips of its toes, tried to expand first one wing and then the other. It succeeded at last, and, sitting down, it began, like a minute cat, to clean its face. Now one could imagine that the little front legs rubbed against each other lightly, joyfully. The horrible danger was over; it had escaped; it was ready for life again.

But just then the boss had an idea. He plunged his pen back into the ink, leaned his thick wrist on the blotting paper, and as the fly tried its wings down came a great heavy blot. What would it make of that? What indeed! The little beggar seemed absolutely cowed, stunned, and afraid to move because of what would happen next. But then, as if painfully, it dragged itself forward. The front legs waved, caught hold, and, more slowly this time, the task began from the beginning.

He's a plucky little devil, thought the boss, and he felt a real admiration for the fly's courage. That was the way to tackle things; that was the right spirit. Never say die; it was only a question of.... But the fly had again finished its laborious task, and the boss had just time to refill his pen, to shake fair and square on the new cIeaned body yet another dark drop. What about it this time? A painful moment of suspense followed. But behold, the front legs were again waving; the boss felt a rush of relief. He leaned over the fly and said to it tenderly, 'You artful little b... ' And he actually had the brilliant notion of breathing on it to help the drying process. All the same, there was something timid and weak about its efforts now, and the boss decided that this time should be the last, as he dipped the pen deep into the inkpot.

It was. The last blot fell on the soaked blotting-paper, and the draggled fly lay in it and did not stir. The back legs were stuck to the body; the front legs were not to be seen.

'Come on,' said the boss. 'Look sharp!' And he stirred it with his pen--in vain. Nothing happened or was likely to happen. The fly was dead.

The boss lifted the corpse on the end of the paper-knife and flung it into the waste-paper basket. But such a grinding feeling of wretchedness seized him that he felt positively frightened. He started forward and pressed the bell for Macey.

'Bring me some fresh blotting-paper,' he said, sternly, 'and look sharp about it.' And while the old dog padded away he fell to wondering what it was he had been thinking about before. What was it? It was.... He took out his handkerchief and passed it inside his colIar. For the life of him he could not remember.

[N.B.: This story is subject to copyright. It is posted here for educational purposes only.]

WHAT I FEEL

   Katherine Mansfield's 'The Fly' which appears in her second volume of short stories entitled 'The Dove's Nest' has been described as one of the finest short stories ever written in English. The story is like a lyric poem where every word, every detail is active and relevant to the understanding of the psychological complexity of the character of the Boss, or rather modern man who is often lonely and battered by the circumstances of life. The entire action is internal, the action that takes place within the Boss's psyche. In fact, the story is an attempt to reveal a moment is one's life through which the hidden recesses of the mind are illuminated.

   The fly episode takes us to the very core of the Boss's consciousness. Here, the fly is the instrument through which the Boss's pain, suffering and emptiness of heart are laid bare to the readers. Some critics have seen the fly as a symbol of the Boss's son's struggle to survive in the war. Some others have found in the story the Boss's own struggles against the battering blows of life. The story can also be read as the inevitable tragedy of modern man who appears to be the Boss of life by virtue of his technological endeavour.Mansfield chooses the fly as an apt symbol to show that man is seldom master of his own fate, as Shakespeare in King Lear wrote: "As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods,/They kill us for their sport".

   The episode shows that in spite of his iron will to remain unnerved by the tragedy of his son's death, the Boss is still weak whenever his son's memory flashes back. Perhaps to cover up the emptiness of the heart, the Boss displays wealth in the form of loud and ostentious decoration of his luxurious office. In this story Mansfield shows that perhaps the Boss finds in the fly the same struggle against the blows of life that he himself has gone through. The Boss's authority is exercised only in a limited sphere, elsewhere all men are subject to the authority of the Eternal Boss. His character attains a tragic stature with this realization that we are all merely puppets in the hand of fate.

ARABY by James Joyce

NORTH RICHMOND STREET being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.

The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communnicant and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister.

When the short days of winter came dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.

Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: "O love! O love!" many times.

At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar, she said she would love to go.

"And why can't you?" I asked.

While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.

"It's well for you," she said.

"If I go," I said, "I will bring you something."

What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.

On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:

"Yes, boy, I know."

As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I left the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.

When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and. when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high cold empty gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress.

When I came downstairs again I found Mrs. Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs. Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said:

"I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord."

At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the halldoor. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten.

"The people are in bed and after their first sleep now," he said.

I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically:

"Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough as it is."

My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." He asked me where I was going and, when I had told him a second time he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt.

I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous house and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.

I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girdled at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognised a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Cafe Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins.

Remembering with difficulty why I had come I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered . At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation.

"O, I never said such a thing!"

"O, but you did!"

"O, but I didn't!"

"Didn't she say that?"

"Yes. I heard her."

"0, there's a ... fib!"

Observing me the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured:

"No, thank you."

The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder.

I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark.

Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.

WHAT I FEEL:

   'Araby' is the third story of Joyce's collection of stories entitled 'Dubliners'. The stories of 'Dubliners' are far more comprehensible than his novels which gradually became more and more complex and incomprehensible. The stories of 'Dubliners' have a special charm of their own. They announce the emergence of a master novelist. 'Araby' is a symbolic story centered around a boy-hero who considered Araby (actually an Oriental fair held in Dublin from 14th to 19th May, 1894) a wonderland of Eastern beauties. He is fascinated with his friend Mangan's sister and planned to impress her with the help of a gift which he would buy from Araby. But he could reach the fair ground at a late hour when most of the stalls were closed. The darkness, conventionality, commercialism (for example, the sale-girl's dull behaviour with the boy) frustrated him. He could buy nothing for his dream-girl. He was disillusioned. Truly said Ezra Pound, the modernist poet, "[Araby] is not a mere story; it is much better than a story; it is a vivid waiting." Araby symbolizes that ideal beauty which we can dream of but can never grasp. 

Reading 'MACBETH' by W. Shakespeare, Part-I

Introduction:

   Shakespeare's 'Macbeth' remains one of his most popular plays, both for classroom study and performance, and with good reason. Here we have the playwright's shortest tragedy, but arguably his most intense, in terms both of its action and its portrayal of human relationships. The "butcher and his fiend-like queen" are among the most attractive villains in stage history, and the profound psychology with which Shakespeare imbues them is deliciously pleasurable for theater audience and student alike.

   Macbeth was a real king of eleventh-century Scotland, whose history Shakespeare had read in several sources, principally the Chronicles of Holinshed, to which he referred for many of his other historical dramas. In Holinshed's account, Banquo and Macbeth combine to kill King Duncan after winning his favor in a battle against the Danes. The original story is full of wonderful details that show the cunning of the Scots and Macbeth, who slaughtered an entire Danish army not by brute force, but by cunning: first mixing a sleeping potion and sending it, like the Trojan horse, as a gift to the enemy army. Once they were asleep, Macbeth was able to kill them easily. Presumably from this incident, Shakespeare derived his idea of having Lady Macbeth administer a sleeping potion to the guards of King Duncan's chamber.

   In Holinshed's account, however, although it’s found that Macbeth's wife is ambitious to become queen, Lady Macbeth does not feature as an accomplice. Instead, Banquo joins forces with Macbeth in killing Duncan. As we shall see later, this particular confederacy of murderers presented Shakespeare with a problem.

   The play is especially remembered for Shakespeare's deft study of evil inhereted in the core of human mind. The evil is brought out through the devastating ambition and 'hubris' or inordinate pride of Macbeth and his wife. The famous soliloquies of Macbeth reveal his ambitions, and also his inner conflicts. Lady Macbeth is portrayed as a strong, ambitious and 'manly' woman who often taunts her husband for his lack of courage in making his mind to kill Duncan. The prophecies of the witches also impart in Macbeth a disastrous ambition to become the king of Scotland (the witches has been seen by many as the expression of Macbeth's hidden ambition). Macbeth didn't hesitate to kill his near and dear ones ruthlessly in order to fulfill his dream. All such devilish deeds along with the witches' machinations and an obcession with kingship make Macbeth abnormal. Lady Macbeth too can not tolerate the pace of bloody events. She loses her mind and finally commits suicide. Macbeth dies in the hand of Macduff. His boldness and impression of personal invincibility mark him out for a tragic fall.

   The play opens with Macbeth and Banquo, two of the Scottish King Duncan’s generals returning from battle when they encounter three witches in the woods. The witches tell Macbeth of how he will become the Thane of Cawdor and then the King of Scotland. For Banquo, they prophesize that he will beget the line of Scottish Kings, though he will never become king himself. The two are sufficiently skeptical and continue their journey home.

   However, when the two come closer to the encampment, they are presented with a messenger from King Duncan who announces that Macbeth has been made the Thane of Cawdor, immediately putting the prophecy into perspective, making Macbeth wonder how he might become king. He invites Duncan to dine at his castle that evening and goes ahead to tell his wife of the day’s events.

   Unlike Macbeth, Lady Macbeth is very sure of her husband’s future, desiring the throne and telling him that they must murder Duncan to ensure his ascension. Immediately upon returning to his castle, Lady Macbeth is able to convince her husband to take initiative and murder Duncan that very night.

   The two plan to get Duncan’s chamberlains drunk enough that they will not remember the evening and blame them for the murder. When the body of Duncan is discovered in the morning, Macbeth quickly kills the “culprits” and assumes the kingship. All the while, Duncan’s sons flee the country, afraid for their own lives.

   Immediately, Macbeth’s misgivings and trust in the prophecies force his hand in the murder of Banquo and his son Fleance as well, afraid that his heirs will seize the throne. Successfully killing Banquo, the murderers fail to kill Fleance.

   The night of his murder, Banquo’s ghost appears to Macbeth and sends him into hysteria, scaring his guests and angering his wife. His very presence as the king of Scotland has angered the other nobles and further incites Macbeth’s misgivings and paranoia.

   To ease his fears, he visits the witches again and they offer to him more prophecies. He must beware of Macduff, a chief opponent to Macbeth taking the throne. He cannot be harmed by any man born of woman and he is safe until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane Castle. He returns home and finds that Macduff has fled to England to join Malcom. In fear, Macbeth seizes Macduff’s castle and orders the murder of his wife and children, inciting Macduff to further rage. With Malcom, the two raise an army and ride to Scotland to take on Macbeth with the support of the Scottish nobles who fear Macbeth’s tyranny and murderous ways.

   While Macbeth awaits his opponents, Lady Macbeth is in the process of going mad, unable to wash the blood from her hands. The news of her suicide reaches Macbeth directly before the arrival of the English forces and sends him into an even deeper despair. He awaits confidently as the prophecy foretold his invulnerability. However, Macduff’s forces arrive under the cover of boughs cut from Birnam wood. When Macbeth is finally confronted by Macduff after his forces have been overwhelmed, Macduff announces that he was “ripped from his mother’s womb” not born and ultimately defeats and beheads Macbeth, handing the crown back to Malcolm, the rightful heir.

N.B. - Read the popular No Fear Shakespeare edition of 'Macbeth' which puts Shakespeare's language side-by-side with a facing-page translation into modern English. Click here!

Reading 'ARMS AND THE MAN' (G. B. Shaw), Part-II

Questions & Answers:

1. What are the two main themes of ‘Arms and the Man’?

Shaw’s play ‘Arms and the Man’ takes as its main themes war and marriage both of which are two major institutions of civilization from its early dawn. Shaw believes that in modern world while war is evil and stupid, marriage desirable and good. But both of them are wrapped in romantic illusions which cause disastrous wars and unhappy marriages. This play of Shaw in an attempt to expose the false romantic notions associated with war and love, and to bring out reality.

2. What is the ‘romantic view of war’ and how is it revealed in ‘Arms and the Man’?

Bernard Shaw, being a stern realist, exposes the romantic illusions associated with war in his play ‘Arms and the Man’. According to him, the romantic view of war is that men fight because they are heroes, and that the soldier who takes biggest risks wins the greatest glory. 

Raina Petkoff, the romantic girl, takes pride in the thought of marrying the ornamental soldier, Major Sergius who valorously leads a cavalry charge towards victory. Raina rejoices at the news of his victory, without knowing the real situation, and adoring his portrait murmurs, “My hero! My hero!” This is a romantic girl’s romantic view of war.

3. “It is not the weapon of a gentleman.” –Who says this and why?

The quoted line from Shaw’s play ‘Arms and the Man’ is said by Raina Petkoff to the fugitive soldier, Bluntschli. 

Bluntschli, who takes shelter in Raina’s chamber, takes the aid of Raina’s cloak to escape from the hands of pursuing Bulgarian soldiers because he knows that she would not allow them to enter into her chamber while she is in her night-dress. This cowardly behaviour of a soldier makes Raina surprised, and so, she utters these words. 

4. What does Raina want to convey by expressing her fondness of reading Byron and Pushkin? 

Raina is a young lady who looks at life and society through the prism of romanticism. Raina is exalted at the news of her fiancé, Major Sergius’ victory in the Bulgaria-Serbia war. She tells her mother, Catherine, that Sergius and his ideas have been coloured. Raina says this because she is profoundly influenced by the works of Byron and Pushkin whose poems are vibrant with adventures and romanticism.

5. “And there was Don Quixote flourishing like a dream thinking that he’d done the cleverest thing ever known.” –Who is Don Quixote? Who is compared to him and why?

Don Quixote is the hero of the sixteenth-century Spanish novel, ‘The History of Don Quixote de la Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes. He is a romantic adventurer, and he is so overcome by romantic illusions that he attacks the sails of windmills considering them to be evil spirits. 

In Shaw’s play ‘Arms and the Man’ Major Sergius of Bulgarian army is compared to Don Quixote. Bluntschli, the man with a rational view of life, draws this comparison because Sergius, the romantic hero, led a Cavalry Charge against a battery of machine guns which were without ammunition, and hence, as innocuous as windmills. 

6. “From Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier a souvenir!” –Who is Chocolate Cream Soldier? Why is he so called?

Bluntschli, the deserter hero of Shaw’s play ‘Arms and the Man’ is nicknamed as ‘Chocolate Cream Soldier’ by Raina Petkoff.

Pursued by enemy Bulgarian soldiers Bluntschli entered into the Bed-chamber of Raina at midnight. When Raina was afraid of his gun, he said that it is not loaded because he used to take chocolates to the battle-field instead of cartridges. Although Raina scoffed at his cowardice, her maternal instinct saved his life from the pursuers and gave him some chocolates to eat. Raina thought that Bluntschli was not a real soldier, but a mere Chocolate Cream Soldier who needed to be nurtured as a child.

7. Discuss the source of the title of the play ‘Arms and the Man’?

Barnard Shaw borrowed the title of his play ‘Arms and the Man’ from Dryden’s translation of the opening words of Virgil’s famous epic, ‘The Aeneid’: “Arms and the Man I sing” (‘Arma Viramque Cano’). Virgil celebrated the glory of war and the valour of the warriors in his epic, but Shaw caricatures war in his play. He explores that after the lapse of about three hundred years from the time of Virgil, in a world dominated by machines soldiers have no room to show their heroism.

8. Relate the difference between Nicola and Louka.

Nicola and Louka are both servants in the house of Petkoff in the play ‘Arms and the Man’, but they are poles apart from each other. While Nicola is loyal, faithful, humble and practical, Louca is witty, ambitious, proud and dishonest. Louka has no loyalty to her employers for she discloses Raina’s secret to Sergius, and flirts with him. She often rebukes Nicola saying that he has the heart of a servant. 

9. Point out the difference between Bluntschli and Sergius.

Bernard Shaw in his play ‘Arms and the Man’ sets the mercenary soldier Bluntschli against the romantic soldier Sergius. While Bluntschli is practical, straightforward and frank, Sergius is artificial, dubious and mechanical. Bluntschli flees the battlefield because he had no ammunition, but Sergius, engulfed in romantic illusions, leads the Cavalry Charge against a battery of machine guns to show his courage. Again, Sergius shows ‘higher love’ to Raina free from carnal desires, but flirts with the maid-servant Louka secretly. But Bluntschli expresses his love for Raina only when Sergius withdraws himself as her suitor and he is told that Raina is a mature lady of 23. Bluntschli’s superiority to Sergius in intelligence is shown when he solves the problem of the regiments while Sergius remains perplexed. 

10. Relate Shaw’s attitude towards love as depicted in ‘Arms and the Man’.

Shaw believed that “love is not a romance but a reality”. In ‘Arms and the Man’ he tries to establish the fact. Sergius and Raina talk about ‘higher love’ free from carnal desires, but Sergius’ airy romance for Raina vanishes when he flirts with Louka because of the latter’s rationality. Reality also prevails over the romantic disposition of Raina when she meets the highly practical, Bluntschli.

11. What, according to Bluntschli, is the difference between an old and a new soldier?

Bluntschli is a highly practical man who opines that old and new soldiers can be recognized from the contents of their pistols. New soldiers are enthusiastic and hence, they carry cartridges along with their pistols, but the old soldiers carry food and chocolates because from their experience they learn the importance of food in the battlefield. 

12. How does Raina define ‘higher love’? How does Sergius reciprocate?

Raina is a romantic girl with a romantic view of life who defines ‘higher love’ as a condition of the mind of a person when he or she could do nothing base or even think so. According to her, Sergius and she have established the ‘higher love’.

Sergius reciprocates this ‘higher love’ by saying that Raina has inspired him in everything. He has gone through the war “like a knight in a tournament with his lady looking down at him”. But in reality he soon gets tired of this airy romance and starts flirting with the maid-servant, Louka.

13. What was the effect of Sergius’ winning the battle and the Russian officers’ losing the same?

Sergius won the battle in a wrong way. He led the Cavalry Charge against the battery of machine guns to show his heroism. Therefore, he was not promoted and the disillusioned Sergius resigned. The Russian generals, on the other hand, had their all regiment routed but since they followed the correct principle of scientific warfare they were promoted. 

14. What is Sergius’ opinion about soldiering and the secret of successful fighting?

Sergius had a romantic view about war who led his Cavalry Charge against a battery of machine guns. Although he won victory since the enemy had no ammunition Sergius was not promoted because he followed wrong method. He was so disgusted that he had sent his resignation, saying: “Soldiering…is the coward’s art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and keeping out of harm’s way when you are strong”. 

15. Comment on the role of Raina’s photograph. 

Raina put her photograph in the pocket of her father’s coat as a souvenir and offered the coat to Bluntschli so that he can take his journey safely in disguise. When he returned the coat and the photograph was about to fall in the hand of her father, Raina skillfully takes it out by helping her father to put on the coat. She placed it before Bluntschli who cleverly covered it with paper before the eyes of Sergius. This hide and seek indicates Raina’s dawning love for Bluntschli.

16. Who is the Swiss officer who humbugged Petkoff and Sergius, and how?

The Swiss officer is Captain Bluntschli who fought for the Serbs against the Bulgarians and fled from the battlefield and took refuge in Raina’s bedroom. 

He humbugged Major Petkoff and Major Sergius (Raina’s father and her fiancé respectively) of Bulgarian army by a negotiation with the exchange of two hundred worn-out heroes for fifty able-bodied soldiers. Petkoff suffers from a sense of great defeat as he felt that the horses he received were “not even eatable”.

17. “What a man! Is he a man?” –What is the significance of the line?

Bernard Shaw’s play ‘Arms and the Man’ concludes with these words of Sergius which refer to Bluntschli. Bluntschli is the true mouthpiece of Shaw in whom he combines practical wit, unorthodoxy, humour and self-awareness. Shaw directs his crusade against romantic illusions associated with human life, especially with war and love, through the activities of Bluntschli. Sergius who is but a vain man is so surprises by the genius of Bluntschli that he utters such words. 

18. How does Shaw show the master-servant relationship in ‘Arms and the Man’?

Shaw is a dispassionate analyst who believed that servants are born into poor class and that they must work for the rich in order to survive, but they should not consider themselves inferior. In ‘Arms and the Man’ while Nicola accepts humble subjugation to his work with the hope that his master will help him in the future, Louka is intelligent, ambitious and haughty. Louka often asserts her human rights, does not hesitate even to disgrace her mistress for the sake of her own advantage. She scolds Nicola by saying that he has the heart of a servant. 

19. Why does Louka say that she is not ashamed of eavesdropping?

Louka, the maid-servant of the Petkoffs eavesdrops when a conversation was going on between Sergius, Raina and Bluntschli. She is caught red-handed by Sergius who drags her in and asks Bluntschli to judge her. Bluntschli refuses it to say that Sergius himself was once caught eavesdropping outside a tent when there was a mutiny brewing, and his life was at stake. Taking the opportunity Louka replied that her love for Sergius is at stake and hence, she is not ashamed of eavesdropping. 

20. How far is ‘Arms and the Man’ an anti-romantic comedy?

In ‘Arms and the Man’ Bernard Shaw directs his crusade against the romantic illusions associated with war and marriage. He demolishes the romantic notion that war is a romantic game fought by heroes, and that marriage is the union of a handsome man and a beautiful woman in lifelong companionship. While on the one hand he shows that in a world dominated by machines man has nothing to show his ‘heroism’ in war, on the other he shows how ‘higher love’ or worshipping one’s beloved soon becomes fatiguing. It is through the sudden arrival of Bluntschli into the life of Raina, the romantic girl, whose romantic world is shattered by the rationalist Bluntschli, that Shaw establishes his notion. The play may well be said to be an anti-romantic comedy. 

Reading 'ARMS AND THE MAN' (G. B. Shaw), Part-I

Introduction:

One of Shaw's aims in this play is to debunk the romantic heroics of war; he wanted to present a realistic account of war and to remove all pretensions of nobility from war. It is not, however, an anti-war play; instead, it is a satire on those attitudes which would glorify war. To create this satire, Shaw chose as his title the opening lines of Virgil's Aeneid, the Roman epic which glorifies war and the heroic feats of man in war, and which begins, "Of arms and the man I sing. . . ."

When the play opens, we hear about the glorious exploits which were performed by Major Sergius Saranoff during his daring and magnificent cavalry raid, an event that turned the war against the Serbs toward victory for the Bulgarians. He thus becomes Raina Petkoff's ideal hero; yet the more that we learn about this raid, the more we realize that it was a futile, ridiculous gesture, one that bordered on an utter suicidal escapade.

In contrast, Captain Bluntschli's actions in Raina's bedroom strike us, at first, as being the actions of a coward. (Bluntschli is a Swiss, a professional soldier fighting for the Serbs.) He climbs up a water pipe and onto a balcony to escape capture, he threatens a defenseless woman with his gun, he allows her to hide him behind the curtains, and then he reveals that he carries chocolates rather than cartridges in his cartridge box because chocolates are more practical on the battlefield. Yet, as the play progresses, Bluntschli's unheroic actions become reasonable when we see that he survives, whereas had the war continued, Sergius' absurd heroic exploits would soon have left him dead.

Throughout the play, Shaw arranged his material so as to satirize the glories associated with war and to ultimately suggest that aristocratic pretensions have no place in today's wars, which are won by using business-like efficiency, such as the practical matters of which Bluntschli is a master. For example, Bluntschli is able to deal with the business of dispensing an army to another town with ease, while this was a feat that left the aristocrats (Majors Petkoff and Saranoff) completely baffled. This early play by Shaw, therefore, cuts through the noble ideals of war and the "higher love" that Raina and Sergius claim to share; Arms and the Man presents a world where the practical man who lives with no illusions and no poetic views about either love or war is shown to be the superior creature.

The play begins in the bedroom of Raina Petkoff in a Bulgarian town in 1885, during the Serbo-Bulgarian War. As the play opens, Catherine Petkoff and her daughter, Raina, have just heard that the Bulgarians have scored a tremendous victory in a cavalry charge led by Raina's fiancé, Major Sergius Saranoff, who is in the same regiment as Raina's father, Major Paul Petkoff. Raina is so impressed with the noble deeds of her fiancé that she fears that she might never be able to live up to his nobility. At this very moment, the maid, Louka, rushes in with the news that the Serbs are being chased through the streets and that it is necessary to lock up the house and all of the windows. Raina promises to do so later, and Louka leaves. But as Raina is reading in bed, shots are heard, there is a noise at the balcony window, and a bedraggled enemy soldier with a gun appears and threatens to kill her if she makes a sound. After the soldier and Raina exchange some words, Louka calls from outside the door; she says that several soldiers want to search the house and investigate a report that an enemy Serbian soldier was seen climbing her balcony. When Raina hears the news, she turns to the soldier. He says that he is prepared to die, but he certainly plans to kill a few Bulgarian soldiers in her bedroom before he dies. Thus, Raina impetuously decides to hide him. The soldiers investigate, find no one, and leave. Raina then calls the man out from hiding; she nervously and absentmindedly sits on his gun, but she learns that it is not loaded; the soldier carries no cartridges. He explains that instead of carrying bullets, he always carries chocolates into battle. Furthermore, he is not an enemy; he is a Swiss, a professional soldier hired by Serbia. Raina gives him the last of her chocolate creams, which he devours, maintaining that she has indeed saved his life. Then he offends her by explaining how unprofessional the cavalry charge against the Serbians was, and if there had not been a stupid mistake on the part of the Serbs, the Bulgarians would have been massacred. Then the soldier says that the Bulgarian "hero," the leader of the troops, acted "like an operatic tenor . . . shouting his war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills." He says that the fellow was the laughingstock of everyone present. Raina then takes the portrait of Sergius and shows it to the officer, who agrees that this was indeed the person who was "charging the windmills and imagining he was doing the finest thing." Angry at the derogatory remarks about her "heroic" betrothed, Raina orders the stranger to leave. But he balks; he says that whereas he could climb up the balcony, he simply can't face the descent. When Raina goes after her mother to help, the "chocolate cream soldier" crawls into Raina's bed and falls instantly asleep. In fact, when they re-enter, he is sleeping so soundly that they cannot awaken him.

Act II begins four months later in the garden of Major Petkoff's house. The middle-aged servant Nicola is lecturing Louka on the importance of having proper respect for the upper class, but Louka has too independent a soul to ever be a "proper" servant. She has higher plans for herself than to marry someone like Nicola, who, she insists, has the "soul of a servant." Major Petkoff arrives home from the war, and his wife Catherine greets him with two bits of information: she suggests that Bulgaria should have annexed Serbia, and she tells him that she has had an electric bell installed in the library. Major Sergius Saranoff, Raina's fiancé and leader of the successful cavalry charge, arrives, and in the course of discussing the end of the war, he and Major Petkoff recount the now-famous story of how a Swiss soldier escaped by climbing up a balcony and into the bedroom of a noble Bulgarian woman. The women are shocked that such a crude story would be told in front of them. When the Petkoffs go into the house, Raina and Sergius discuss their love for one another, and Raina romantically declares that the two of them have found a "higher love."

When Raina goes to get her hat so that they can go for a walk, Louka comes in, and Sergius asks if she knows how tiring it is to be involved with a "higher love." Then he immediately tries to embrace the attractive maid. Since he is being so blatantly familiar, Louka declares that Miss Raina is no better than she; Raina, she says, has been having an affair while Sergius was away, but she refuses to tell Sergius who Raina's lover is, even though Sergius accidently bruises Louka's arm while trying to wrest a confession from her. When he apologizes, Louka insists that he kiss her arm, but Sergius refuses and, at that moment, Raina re-enters. Sergius is then called away, and Catherine enters. The two ladies discuss how incensed they both are that Sergius related the tale about the escaping soldier. Raina, however, doesn't care if Sergius hears about it; she is tired of his stiff propriety. At that moment, Louka announces the presence of a Swiss officer with a carpetbag, calling for the lady of the house. His name is Captain Bluntschli. Instantly, they both know he is the "chocolate cream soldier" who is returning the Major's old coat that they disguised him in. As they make rapid, desperate plans to send him away, Major Petkoff hails Bluntschli and greets him warmly as the person who aided them in the final negotiations of the war; the old Major insists that Bluntschli must their houseguest until he has to return to Switzerland.

Act III begins shortly after lunch and takes place in the library. Captain Bluntschli is attending to a large amount of confusing paperwork in a very efficient manner, while Sergius and Major Petkoff merely observe. Major Petkoff complains about a favorite old coat being lost, but at that moment Catherine rings the new library bell, sends Nicola after the coat, and astounds the Major by thus retrieving his lost coat. When Raina and Bluntschli are left alone, she compliments him on his looking so handsome now that he is washed and brushed. Then she assumes a high and noble tone and chides him concerning certain stories which he has told and the fact that she has had to lie for him. Bluntschli laughs at her "noble attitude" and says that he is pleased with her demeanor. Raina is amused; she says that Bluntschli is the first person to ever see through her pretensions, but she is perplexed that he didn't feel into the pockets of the old coat which she lent him; she had placed a photo of herself there with the inscription "To my Chocolate Cream Soldier." At this moment, a telegram is brought to Bluntschli relating the death of his father and the necessity of his coming home immediately to make arrangements for the six hotels that he has inherited. As Raina and Bluntschli leave the room, Louka comes in wearing her sleeve in a ridiculous fashion so that her bruise will be obvious. Sergius enters and asks if he can cure it now with a kiss. Louka questions his true bravery; she wonders if he has the courage to marry a woman who is socially beneath him, even if he loved the woman. Sergius asserts that he would, but he is now engaged to a girl so noble that all such talk is absurd. Louka then lets him know that Bluntschli is his rival and that Raina will marry the Swiss soldier. Sergius is incensed. He sees Bluntschli and immediately challenges him to a duel; then he retracts when Raina comes in and accuses him of making love to Louka merely to spy on her and Bluntschli. As they are arguing, Bluntschli asks for Louka, who has been eavesdropping at the door. She is brought in. She says that she is not ashamed and that her love is at stake and that her feelings for Sergius are stronger than Raina's feelings for the "chocolate cream soldier."

At this point, Major Petkoff enters in short sleeves; when Nicola enters with Petkoff's old coat, Raina helps him on with the coat and deftly removes the inscribed portrait from the coat pocket. Thus, when her father reaches for the photograph to ask Raina the meaning of a photograph of her with the inscription: "Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier: A Souvenir," the photo is missing! Major Petkoff is confused and asks Sergius if he is the person; he responds indignantly that he is not. Then Bluntschli explains that he is the "chocolate cream soldier" and that Raina saved his life. Petkoff is further confused when Raina points out that Louka is the true object of Sergius' affections, despite the fact that Louka is engaged to Nicola. Suddenly Louka feels as though she is being bartered, and she demands an apology; when Sergius kisses her hand in apology, she reminds him that his touch now makes her his "affianced wife", and thus they become engaged. Bluntschli asks permission to become a suitor for Raina's hand, and when he lists all of the possessions which he has (200 horses, 9600 pairs of sheets, ten thousand knives and forks, etc.), permission for the marriage is granted, and Bluntschli says that he will return in two weeks to marry Raina. Succumbing with pleasure, Raina gives a loving smile to her "chocolate cream soldier."

Reading 'RIDERS TO THE SEA' (J. M. Synge)

Introduction:

    ‘Riders to the Sea’ is a one-act play written by Irish playwright John Millington Synge. It was first performed on February 25, 1904 at the Molesworth Hall, Dublin by the Irish National Theater Society. The play is set in the Aran Islands, and like all of Synge's plays it is noted for capturing the poetic dialogue of rural Ireland. The plot is very simple, yet moving.  It presents the dark tragedy of a lower-class Irish family which is engaged in a helpless battle with the cruel sea. The play aims at bringing out the essential tragedy of human lot in general which is battered by the blows of an evil power or an ill-fate beyond control.

   There are only four major characters: Maurya, an elderly Irishwoman, her daughters Cathleen and Nora, and her son Bartley. The young priest is also important to introduce controversies about Maurya's sons, e.g. whether the clothes are from Michael's body, whether the young priest let Bartley go to sell his horse, etc.

   Maurya has lost her husband, father-in-law, and five sons to the sea. As the play begins Nora and Cathleen receive word that a body that may be their brother Michael has washed up on shore in Donegal, far to the north. The two sisters are seen to be discussing about the fact in the kitchen. They are unwilling to let their mother know the fact of Michael's death. Bartley is planning to sail to Connemara to sell a horse. Cathleen prepares a cake for him. Since Bartley is the last surviving son of Maurya, she tries to stop him from going to the sea. But he ignores Maurya's pleas to stay. As he leaves, he leaves gracefully. Maurya predicts that by nightfall she will have no living sons, and her daughters chide her for sending Bartley off with an ill-word. Maurya goes after Bartley to bless his voyage and to hand over the cake to Bartley. Nora and Cathleen check the clothing from the drowned corpse that confirms it as their brother. Maurya returns home claiming to have seen the ghost of Michael riding behind Bartley and begins lamenting the loss of the men in her family to the sea, after which some villagers bring in the corpse of Bartley, who has fallen off his horse into the sea and drowned.

   Maurya's speech in the final scene is famous in Irish drama:

   "They're all gone now, and there isn't anything more the sea can do to me.... I'll have no call now to be up crying and praying when the wind breaks from the south, and you can hear the surf is in the east, and the surf is in the west, making a great stir with the two noises, and they hitting one on the other. I'll have no call now to be going down and getting Holy Water in the dark nights after Samhain, and I won't care what way the sea is when the other women will be keening."

Question & Answers:

1. Consider ‘Riders to the Sea’ as a one-act play.

   One-act play is chiefly a twentieth century phenomena. J. M. Synge’s ‘Riders to the Sea’, like other one-act plays, conforms to the three unities held by Aristotle—the unity of time (the actions take place in a single day), the unity of place (the play is confined within one locale, the Aran Islands) and the unity of action (the play presents the helplessness of Maurya precisely in the face of a merciless fate which acts through its agent, the sea). Its predicaments are not only those of the Irish peasants, but also of all men subject to the tyrannical forces they can not control. Thus, although short in size, the play achieves a universal appeal.

2. Who are the riders to the sea and why are they called so?

   The male members of Maurya’s family who went to the sea for their livelihood are called the riders to the sea.

   One by one, all the male members of Maurya’s family—her father-in-law, her husband and her six sons—go to the sea for fishing or business, but no one ever returned alive because the hostile sea drowned them all. Nevertheless, they were bound to go to the sea for their livelihood. Such is the fate of all the lower-class people of the Aran Islands who are all fearless riders to the sea.

3. Do you consider Maurya a tragic character?

   Maurya is not a tragic character in the Aristotelian sense of the term—she does not fight with enemies or with ill-fate heroically. Rather, she stoically withstands the repeated shocks which come as the deaths of all her near ones—her father-in-law, her husband and her six sons. However, the tragic effect of the play ‘Riders to the Sea’ has been brought out through this grief-stricken mother battered by the blows of a hostile fate. Her condition is undoubtedly tragic.

4. What techniques have been adopted by Synge to create a supernatural atmosphere in ‘Riders to the Sea’?

   The gloomy atmosphere of mystery which intensifies the tragic effect of the play has been created by the awful use of omens and superstitions inherent among the Aran Islanders. Maurya’s words at the time of Bartley’s leaving the home that she’d never see him again seemed ominous to Maurya’s daughter Cathleen. Then, when Maurya went to the spring well to hand over the bread to Bartley she saw the ghost of her dead son Michael riding on a grey pony beside Bartley. She was very much frightened at the sight. And her premonition that Bartley too would be drowned in the sea proved to be true.

5. “What is the price of a thousand horses against a son when there’s one son only?”—Who is the speaker? What does he/she wish to mean with this utterance?

   Maurya, the central character of J. M. Synge’s play ‘Riders to the Sea’, is the speaker.

   With these words Maurya tries to prevent her only surviving son Bartley from sailing on the stormy sea. One by one, all the other five sons of Maurya have been drowned when they went to the sea for their livelihood. Bartley also wishes to sail across the sea with horses in order to sell them, but Maurya says that the value of even a thousand horses is nothing as compared to her son, especially when he is the only son surviving.

6. “He’s gone now, God spare us, and we’ll not see him again.”—Who is the speaker? Why does he/she make such premonition? Was the premonition correct?

   Maurya, the central character of J. M. Synge’s play ‘Riders to the Sea’, speaks this to her daughter Cathleen.

   Maurya laments over the fact that Bartley, her only surviving son, has gone to the sea despite her efforts to stop him. The line expresses her premonition that, like her other five sons, Bartley too will perish in the stormy sea.

   The premonition comes to be true as Bartley is drowned in the sea.

7. “In the big world the old people do be leaving things after them for their sons and children, but in this place it is the young men do be leaving things behind for them that do be old.”—Who is the speaker? What makes the speaker say so? What is the significance of the speech?

   Maurya, the central character of J. M. Synge’s play ‘Riders to the Sea’, is the speaker.

   One by one, Maurya’s five sons have perished in the hostile sea, and then, Bartley, her only surviving son also decides to go to the sea. She makes the premonition that Bartley too will be drowned in the sea. Maurya pathetically utters these words before going to the spring well in order to hand over a piece of bread to Bartley.

   While it is customary for old people to leave things behind for the young, in Maurya’s house the young men (that is, her sons) have perished in tender ages leaving behind things for the benefit of the old Maurya.

8. “I’ve seen the fearfulest thing any person has seen since the days of Bride Dara.”—What was the ‘fearfulest thing’? Who was Bride Dara and what had she seen?

   When Maurya went to hand over the cake to Bartley who departed for the sea, she saw his dead son Michael riding a gray pony behind Bartley. This sight frightened her because it is ominous to have the vision of a dead man moving.

   Bride Dara is a character in Irish folklore. She saw an evil-looking man carrying a dead child in his lap. The sight frightened her very much.

9. “They’re all gone now, and there isn’t anything more the sea can do to me.”—About whom is the speaker speaking? Why does the speaker say so?

   In this line from J. M. Synge’s ‘Riders to the Sea’, Maurya pathetically counts the death of all the male members of her family who are all perished in the hostile sea.

   One by one, Maurya’s father-in-law, her husband and her five sons went to the sea in order to earn their livelihood, but they never returned alive. When the news of her last surviving son Bartley’s death comes to her, the overwhelming grief baffles her, and she stoically resigns to the sad fate. She says that the sea can do no harm to her any more.

10. “No man at all can be living for ever, and he must be satisfied.”—What has satisfied the speaker? What attitude of the speaker is reflected here?

   Maurya in Synge’s play ‘Riders to the Sea’ feels satisfied with the thought that God is kind enough to provide a clean burial to her son Michael in far north after he was perished in the sea. She also fells at ease with the thought that, like Michael, her last son Bartley too will be buried decently.

   In this line we find Maurya’s stoic resignation to the sad fate. She withstands the repeated shocks which come as the deaths of all her near ones—her father-in-law, her husband and her six sons. Such overwhelming griefs have infused a strong sense of endurance in her.