An Incomplete Education - 3,684 Things You Should Have Learned but Probably Didn't

The Other Comedies

The Comedy of Errors—This very early, unchara
drawn from two Roman plays by Plautus, gets mos
identity, with a sprinkling of marriage jokes thrown
as pure sitcom, it still works on the modern stage.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona—An interesting fore
tic comedy that Shakespeare was to make one of h
ing all the imaginable extremes of fidelity, gallant
dramatist was staking out the boundaries within w
would be enacted. In Valentine and Proteus, the "t
ship turns to rivalry, and Silvia and Julia, their lady
mulate his method of using contrast to establish ch

Loves Labours Lost—Lots of learned wit, not all
contemporary audiences, in this story of a king an
take a rest-and-study cure but quickly change their
three ladies-in-waiting turn up. Shakespeare's atte
bly a sign that the play kept being rewritten.

The Taming of the Shrew—Let's not kid ourselves. T
Petruchio does eventually subjugate the self-willed
be said for her, finally, is that she learns to exchan
but she must submit totally on every issue that cou
of his heroine, however, merely reflects the stan
woman's place, according to which Petruchio really
her to accept her proper role. By the way, in those
"shrow," which explains why many of the play's rhy

A Midsummer Nights Dream—Shakespeare's first
pliment to love, but a backhanded one, given t
Oberon and Titania, the marriage by conquest of
lampooning of tales of true love in the play within
infatuations in the forest. All of which makes it h
tween love and lunacy. In Puck, the beneficent gob
who winds up with an ass's head, Shakespeare cre
rable minor characters.

Z/ike a miraculous celestial Light-ship, wo

LITERATURE 207

acteristically farcical comedy,
st of its laughs from mistaken
n in. What's surprising is that,

erunner of the kind of roman­
his distinctive genres, exhibit­
try, and melancholy, as if the
hich his subsequent comedies
two gentlemen" whose friend­

friends, he also begins to for­
haracter.

l of it easily decipherable by
nd three courtiers who under­
plans when a princess and her
ention keeps shifting—proba­

This is a male-chauvinist play:
d Katharina. The best that can
nge clever remarks with him,
unts. Shakespeare's treatment
ndard Elizabethan view of a
y does Kate a favor by forcing
e days, shrew was pronounced
ymes seem a bit off.

comic masterpiece is a com­
the quarrelsome marriage of
f Theseus and Hippolyta, the
n a play, and the mismatched
hard to tell the difference be­
blin, and Bottom, the weaver,
eated two of his most memo­

oven all of sheet-lightning and sunbeams.
Thomas Carlyle

208 AN I N C O M P L E T E

The Merchant of Venice—In thi
values of Belmont, her home, a
is all about gold, silver, and ju
classed as a romantic comedy,
and the question of anti-Semit
always gets more attention tha

Much Ado About Nothing—The
and Beatrice make for much o
dio's bitter denunciations of He
tress modern audiences with t
misunderstandings abound, co
tent constables, Dogberry and

As You Like It—We're in the id
acters have fled from the cor
nobleman Orlando, who falls
duke (and the first of Shakes
alind's cousin Celia, Jaques (al
the fool Touchstone. The exile
Jaques, they all jump at the cha

The Merry Wives of Windsor—
Elizabeth's request to see Fals
This is Falstaff bereft of his wit
by vanity and greed. Amiable
in which Shakespeare presents

Troilus and Cressida—A roma
ducted in the middle of a war (

Shakespeare's name, you may depend on it, sta
had no invention as to stories, none whatever.
threw their stories into a dramatic shape, at as l
his plays back again into prose tales. That he th
of genius, nobody can deny: but this was all. Su
dling for the first time of such ready-made stor
sad fellow indeed, if he did not make somethin

E EDUCATION

s double plot, the courtship of Portia pits the true
against the false values of Venice, which thinks life
stice (as opposed to mercy). Although the play is
the emphasis is more on friendship than on love,
ism inherent in Shakespeare's portrayal of Shylock
an either.

witty exchanges of the unwilling lovers Benedict
of this comedy's charm. On the other hand, Clau-
ero, the woman he so recently adored, tend to dis­
their cruelty. As the title suggests, confusions and
ompounded by the two monumentally incompe­

Verges.

dyllic Forest of Arden, to which all the good char­
rupt court. Our backpackers include: the young
in love with Rosalind, daughter of the banished
speare's self-reliant, no-nonsense heroines), Ros­
lways referred to as "the melancholy Jaques"), and
es praise the free life of the forest, but, except for
ance of going back to civilization.

—Said to have been written in response to Queen
taff in love. If so, the monarch got short weight.
t, and he's not in love, or even in lust, just prodded
enough on the whole, however, and the only play
s (and defends) the life of his own middle class.

ance with an unfaithful woman (Cressida) con­
(Trojan) over another unfaithful woman (Helen).

ands absurdly too high and will go down. He
. H e took all his plots from old novels, and
ittle expense of thought as you or I could turn
hrew over whatever he did write some flashes
uppose anyone to have had the dramatic han­
ries as Lear, Macbeth, &c. and he would be a
ng very grand of them.

George Gordon, Lord Byron

War and love are shown to be equally vicious and
says, "Lechery, lechery; still wars and lechery; noth
play squeaks through as comedy on a technicality
alive at the end.

All's Well That Ends Well—Classed, along with T
the "dark" or "problem" comedies, said to mirror
side of Shakespeare and/or Elizabethan England
the three and Helena one of the most endearin
Having cured her king of an ailment that baffled
out resolutely to track down (and bag) her man,
the influence of his friend, the boastful and opp
wants him at all is problematic, but then, Shake
be reasonable.

Measure for Measure—Scholars like to roll out reli
play, but even with the special pleading it can seem
appoints his deputy, Angelo, to clean up the mess
can't he do it himself? Doesn't he see through Ang
fault for putting Vienna at the deputy's mercy. If n
la's refusal to lay down her virginity to save her b
must she then tell him about it? Isn't the Duke's rev
a bit excessive? And what real satisfaction can any
sordidness is converted to happiness by fiat? Are yo
Do you care?

/ k e e p saying Shakespeare, Shakes

What is he? You might almost answer, H

Shakespeare the birds sing, the rushes are clo
cloud wanders, it is hot, it is cold, night falls,
vast eternal dream hovers over all. Sap and b
and ideas, man and humanity, the living and
and pearls, dunghills and charnel houses, the e
goers, all, all are on Shakespeare and in Shak
dead emerge from it.

LITERATURE 209

d destructive. Or, as Thersites
hing else holds fashion." This
y: The two principals are still

T & C and Measure, as one o f
r the increasingly pessimistic
d. This one is the lightest of
ng of Shakespeare's heroines.
the court physicians, she sets

a self-centered nullity under
portunistic Parolles. That she

speare never said love had to

igious allegory to explain this
m bitter and cynical. The Duke

he has made in Vienna. Why
gelo's hypocrisy? If so, he is at
ot, he is incompetent. Isabel­
brother is understandable, but
venge for Lucio's verbal insults
ybody take in a finale in which
ou starting to see the problem?

speare, you are as obscure as life is.
Matthew Arnold

e is the earth . . . the globe . . . existence. . . . In
othed with green, hearts love, souls suffer, the

time passes, forests and multitudes speak, the
lood, all forms of the multiple reality, actions
the life, solitudes, cities, religions, diamonds
ebb and flow of beings, the steps of comers and
kespeare; and, this genius being the earth, the

Victor Hugo

ZIO AN I N C O M P L E T E

THE

Amazingly, nineteenth-century
the twentieth century that they
at least, with those four traged
Othello, Macbeth, and King Lea
after Shakespeare began leanin
clearly juxtaposed good and ev
chological complexity that onl
you can see why the tragedies j

Close-up: King Lear

Blow, winds, and
You cataracts and
Till you have dren
You sulphurous a
Vaunt-couriers to
Singe my white h
Smite flat the thi
Crack nature's mo
That make ingrat

"If you have tears, prepare to
Julius Caesar, it applies best to
ics have come to regard as the
greatest—of Shakespeare's trag

King Lear, Act I, Scene 1, painted by Edwin Austin

E EDUCATION

E TRAGEDIES

y audiences preferred the comedies; it's only since
y have been impressed by Shakespeare's tragedies—
dies generally acknowledged as his greatest: Hamlet,
ar. All of these were written between 1601 and 1606,
ng toward heavily symbolic, multilayered plots that
vil. Combine these elements with the kind of psy­
ly a terribly unhappy character can put across, and
ibe so nicely with the modern sensibility.

crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
d hurricanoes, spout
nch'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
and thought-executing fires,
o oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
ck rotundity o' the world!
olds, all germens spill at once,
teful man!

Act 3, scene 2
o shed them now." Though this line comes from
o King Lear, which, increasingly, scholars and crit­

most bitter, bleak, and pessimistic—as well as the
gedies.

Abbey

The play's opening events hardly prepare us fo
Retiring from power and dividing his kingdom, L
single test—his daughters' public declarations of lo
Cordelia, his favorite and the only one of his thre
devoted to him, brusquely rejects his demand. That
and us—inexorably through five acts of unspeakab
deaths of both Lear and Cordelia. And why? Not
view of human relations. The fact is that this is a
and unimaginable cruelty. What comfort there is d
trivial (and as unattainable) as a happy ending, but
and Cordelia feel when they are temporarily reunit
the tuition was a killer.

There is nothing halfhearted about the play's tr
just a little. Lear, having abdicated, doesn't shuffle
saw puzzles; he is driven out, crazed, to seek she
storm. Cordelia is hanged in prison. Gloucester's
about his legitimate son, Edgar, and for being
blinded—on stage.

King Lear is full of the kind of significant paralle
reinforce his effects. Gloucester is a second tragic f
failing to distinguish between his good and bad
daughters' devotion to him by the number of knig
peating his original mistake of trying to measure lo
phony of madness is being played out in the deliriu
of Edgar, and the addled wisdom of the Fool, w
moral of the play when he tells Lear, "Thou should
hadst been wise."

The Other Tragedies

Titus Andronicus—Lots of blood and gore, with a
Charles Bronson movie and a similar cumulative ef
ine Bronson as a victorious Roman general who se
mutilation of his daughter, Lavinia. Not a play to w
like to think of it either as the work of a young Sh
any cost, or as not the work of Shakespeare at all.

Romeo and Juliet—The world's most famous sta
world's worst run of luck. Although it contains som
ple of brilliantly developed minor characters (Merc
spite the moralizing of twentieth-century remakes
really just what it appears to be—a classic tearjerke

LITERATURE 211

or the bombshells that follow.
Lear relies, outrageously, on a
ove. Offended by this silliness,
ee daughters who is genuinely
t's all it takes to propel Lear—
ble anguish, culminating in the
just because Lear has a dumb
terrible world, filled with evil
doesn't derive from anything as
from the warmth and joy Lear
ted. Lear has learned a lot, but

ragic effects; no one gets hurt
off to a tower room to do jig­
elter on the heath in a raging
punishment for being misled
faithful to his king is to be

els Shakespeare liked to use to
father, also brought to grief for
d children. Lear, judging his
ghts they will allow him, is re­
ove. Meanwhile, a virtual sym­
um of Lear, the feigned lunacy
who pretty much sums up the
dst not have been old till thou

about as much substance as a
ffect—that is, if you can imag­
ets out to avenge the rape and
win raves from the critics, who
hakespeare out to have a hit at

r-crossed lovers play out the
me beautiful poetry and a cou­
cutio and the Nurse), and de­
like West Side Story, this one is
er.

212 AN I N C O M P L E T E

Julius Caesar—Ruined for mos
were too young to care about a
this really is. (We were just co
killed off in the middle of the a
most of Shakespeare's, but the

Hamlet—The Master's shot at
revenge tragedy, in which, nine
by a tireless pursuer, with plent
of a psychological and philoso
thinks so much that he can't ge
age Jean-Claude Van Damme
ing a movie version.

Othello—All about the decept
no guide to his noble charact
who is innocence itself, gets sm
with a courtesan, is really a fin

Macbeth—Don't fall for the v
beth murder his king and slaug
about his wrestling with his co
only about the practical conse
deeds. When his wife judges h
she doesn't mean what we mea
thority on the subject.

Antony and Cleopatra—Overly
to deal with here: the decline a
his own unbridled passion, can
of Cleopatra from a selfish littl
and the depiction of Rome a
without the benefit of split-scr

Timon of Athens—A kind of m
bleman, goes broke entertainin
do with him. He becomes a he
we can forget about. An ackno
beyond recognition.

Coriolanus—At last, a tragedy i
olanus with his noblesse oblige

E EDUCATION

st of us by being taught in high school, when we
anyone as noble and good as Brutus, whose tragedy
onfused and irritated when the tide character got
action.) True, the plot is more straightforward than

play's austerity isn't for sixteen-year-olds.

t one of the big box-office genres of his day—the
e times out of ten, a treacherous murder is avenged
ty of carnage along the way. Shakespeare's addition
ophical dimension, and his creation of a hero who
et the job done, have, however, sufficed to discour­
(though not, it's true, Mel Gibson) from attempt­

iveness of appearances. Othello's black exterior is
ter. "Honest Iago" is untrustworthy. Desdemona,
meared. And Cassio, who has been fooling around
ne fellow after all.

ictim-of-circumstances line. Not only does Mac­
ghter a whole family of innocents, but the business
onscience has been greatly exaggerated. He worries
equences, not the ethical implications, of his evil
him to be "too full o' th' milk of human kindness,"
an by "kindness," and besides, she's hardly an au­

complex, perhaps, but then Shakespeare had a lot
and fall of Antony, who, although he's the victim of
n't be made to seem a total fool; the development
le twit into someone whose death by asp moves us;
and Egypt as two different and opposing worlds,
reen technology.

morality play about worldly vanity. Timon, a no­
ng his friends, who then refuse to have anything to
ermit and a cynic, whom, for all practical purposes,
owledged mess, Timon was probably tinkered with

in which both sides repel us—the aristocratic Cori-
e and his contempt for the masses, and the schem-

ing tribunes who play on those masses' foolishness,
cause of its ambiguity, the play has been easy to
staged as a pro-Fascist parable in France between
from a Marxist perspective by Bertolt Brecht.

THE ROMANC

"Romances" is what scholars call the four comedie
his prosperous company took over the Blackfriars T
quiring texts different from those he had been su
more melancholy, and more atmospheric than any
the Blackfriars plays were staged at night in a clos
and cost considerably more money. Their wealth
expected emotional, heart-wrenching poetry, extra
fering, and perilous escapes—then a happy ending

Close-up: The Tempest

Scene
rende

. . . These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits a
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this
The cloud-capped towers, the gorg
The solemn temples, the great glo
Yea, all which it inherit, shall disso
And, like this insubstantial pagean
Leave not a rack behind. We are su
As dreams are made on, and our li
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am v
Bear with my weakness; my old br
Be not disturbed with my infirmity
If you be pleased, retire into my ce
And there repose. . . .

LITERATURE 213

, fickleness, and gullibility. B e ­
use propagandistically; it was
n the wars, and later rewritten

CES

es that Shakespeare wrote after
Theatre in 1608 and began re­
upplying earlier. More wistful,
thing that had preceded them,
ed, artificially lit environment,
hier, better-educated audience
avagant incident, extended suf­
g.

efrom T h e Tempest,
ered by Henry Fuseli

and

s vision,
geous palaces,
obe itself,
olve,
nt faded,
uch stuff
ittle life
vexed.
ain is troubled.
y.
ell

Act 4, scene 1

214 AN I N C O M P L E T E

The Tempest is the last play w
ations of readers have viewed it
péra, the magician and duke-
with the playwright, and the p
subsequent retirement to Stratf
Shakespeare's part, but certai
naïveté after the complexity an

Here's the plot: Prospero s
brother and restore himself a
wreck, netting not only the b
randa; the suitor's father, the
likewise treacherous; and all th
some "downstairs," but Prospe
timately The Tempest, like all t
pero turns benign and forgi
previously hostile families—an
marriage. (Appropriately, the
James' daughter, Elizabeth.)

W h e n Shakespeare wrote Th
was mindful of a recent shipw
also have been thinking about
cordingly, The Tempest is in so
creatures who had greeted Pro
who then became his servants
bad native: Ariel cooperates an
of the population, while the b
stigates the archetypal colonia
which raises larger issues, i.e.: I
to art? And in which state—na

Tne fact is, we are growing out of Shakespeare
at the beginning of the nineteenth century; and
nothing but a household pet. His characters stil
side still give us a Bank-holiday breath of count
still stir us; the commonplaces and trumperies o
to all the rest of us are still expressed by him be
ing to hope from him, and nothing to learn fro
he does that so much better than most modern

E EDUCATION

wholly written by Shakespeare. As a result, gener-
t as the culmination of his vision, identifying Pros-
-in-exile, who now presides over a desert island,
play itself with Shakespeare's farewell to his art and
ford. This may or may not have been conscious on
nly The Tempest represents a heartfelt return to
nd weight of the great tragedies.
seizes an opportunity to get back at his usurping
as Duke of Milan. H e creates a storm and ship-
rother, but also a fit suitor for his daughter, M i -
e King of Naples; the suitor's father's brother,
heir retainers. Conspiracies ensue, some "upstairs,"
ro's magic is sufficient to vanquish all comers. Ul-
he romances, is a play of reconciliation, and Pros-
iving. He arranges a marriage that unites two
nd presents a masque that elegantly celebrates that

play helped to celebrate the betrothal of King

he Tempest, he had been reading travelers' tales and
wreck that had taken place off Bermuda. He must

the practical effects of such travelers' activities; ac-
ome respects a parable of colonialism. In the two
ospero after his own shipwreck years earlier (and
s), we have the perfect image of the good and the
nd serves his master by helping to oppress the rest
estial Caliban (a near anagram for "cannibal") in-
alist nightmare by trying to rape Miranda. All of
Is nature superior to civilization and, by extension,
ature or civilization—is man nobler?

. Byron declined to put up with his reputation
d now, at the beginning of the twentieth, he is
ll live; his word pictures of woodland and way-
ry air; his verse still charms us; his sublimities
of the wisdom which age and experience bring
etter than by anybody else; but we have noth-
om him—not even how to write plays, though

dramatists.
George Bernard Shaw

The Other Romances

Pericles—Apparently an old play partially rewritten
of the romances, complete with wonderful adventu
arations, deaths not real but feared, etc., etc. Co
saved from a murderer by pirates, sold by her rescue
in her purity that she's able to convert the brothel's
it has a certain archaic charm.

Cymbeline—An odd concoction, mingling Celtic
with a plot that is no more than a machine for prod
with abductions, disguises, magic potions, and mi
story pits Princess Imogen, daughter of King Cym
new queen, her stepmother, who's determined tha
son Cloten. Still to come: Imogen's "seduction" b
Iago; her encounter with her two long-lost brot
headless body for that of her true husband, Posthu
featuring a personal appearance by Jupiter.

A Winters Tale—The fact that a character exits "p
outrageous than King Leontes' sudden, entirely un
Hermione, or her decision to teach him a lesson b
teen years. Then there's the matter of Bohemia, n
been issued a seacoast. In other words, the events o
tical, contributing to an atmosphere that is part f
which we travel from court to countryside, from
death to life.

/ d o not believe that any writer has ever expose
as they are not, more clearly than Shakespeare

When I read Shake

That such trivial people
In such lovely language.

LITERATURE 215

n by Shakespeare, and the first
ures in strange places, long sep­
onsider Marina, unpredictably
ers to a brothel, and so resolute
s patrons. Realism it's not, but

c Britain and ancient Rome,
ducing sensations, overflowing
istaken identities. The central
mbeline of Britain, against the
at Imogen marry her cloddish
by Iachimo, a kind of cut-rate
thers; her mistaking Cloten's
umus; and the dream sequence,

pursued by a bear" is no more
nmotivated jealousy of his wife,
by turning into a statue for six­
notoriously landlocked, having
of the play are patendy fantas­
fairy tale and part allegory, in

winter to summer, and from

ed this bovaryisme, the human will to see things
e.

T. S. Eliot

speare I am struck with wonder
e should muse and thunder
.

D. H. Lawrence

FIVE DEFINITIONS (OU
OR SO) THAT MIGHT
A LITTLE

D I E — C a n mean "to come in lovemaking: to
have an orgasm." This is what Benedick
means in Much Ado About Nothing when he
says, "I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap,
and be buried in thy eyes." Heady knowl­
edge, but use it sparingly: "Die" usually means
"to die."

FOOL—Often a term of endearment, as it is
at the end of King Lear when Lear says, "My
poor fool is dead." H e means Cordelia, not
the Fool, whose absence from the latter part
of the play nobody ever bothers to explain.

HORNS—The adornment and symbol of the
cheated-on husband, the cuckold. Alluded
to when Othello says, "I have a pain upon
my forehead here." More often, the basis of
the favorite family of jokes among the Eliz­
abethans, who seemed to think any reference
to horns was in and of itself uproarious.

HUMOUR—Mood, idiosyncrasy, tempera­
ment. Bottom m A Midsummer Night s Dream

UT OF FIVE THOUSAND
T MAKE THE GOING
E EASIER

means the first when he says, "Yet my chief
humour is for a tyrant." (He likes to play
tyrants.) Never as in our "sense of humor."
But in making "humour" such a prominent
word in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Shake­
speare was probably giving a nod to Ben Jon-
son, who in such plays as Every Man in His
Humour, popularized a more formal concept
of the "four humours": When phlegm, or
blood, or yellow bile, or black bile is domi­
nant in somebody, he is rendered phlegmatic,
or sanguine, or choleric, or melancholic,
rather than "good-humoured," i.e., emotion­
ally balanced.

QUICK—In addition to the meaning were
most familiar with ("acting speedily"), can
mean "vital, vigorous, full of energy"; "sharp,
piercing"; or—here's the important one—
"living, endowed with life," and, by extension,
"pregnant." Hence a phrase like "the quick and
the dead" and a line like, in Loves Labours Lost,
"The poor wench is cast away; she's quick; the
child brags in her belly already."

THE SECOND MOST FAMOU

That would be George

Bernard Shaw, who

lived about three hun­

dred years after Shakes­

peare and who beats

out Christopher Mar­

lowe, Ben Jonson, Wil­

liam Congreve, Richard

Brinsley Sheridan, and

Oscar Wilde for the

slot. True, he's not

really English, but

Anglo-Irish. And, un­

like Shakespeare, he's

not just a dramatist (or,

more precisely, a dram­

atist with a taste for

sonnet sequences). He's

an insatiable critic, a /

prolific letter writer,

and an indefatigable social reformer. A

know-it-all with a sense of humor, Shaw

took it upon himself to lecture (and up­

braid) his era on his era, and went on doing

so from the late nineteenth century to his

death in 1950.

The plays are of varying degrees of heavi­

ness, acerbity, and outrage, with varying ra­

tios of polemic to farce. Even a relatively

benign one like Pygmalion (the basis for My

Fair Lady) manages to send up the class

structure, relations between the sexes, and

the idea of education. In the early Widowers'

Houses and Mrs. Warrens Profession, Shaw

skewers slum landlordism and prostitution,

respectively; m Major Barbara, soup-kitchen

evangelism; in Heartbreak House, the human

species and civilization in general. Shaw's

masterpiece (or, as his critics would have it,

his attempt at a great play): Saint Joan, in

US ENGLISH PLAYWRIGHT

which the famous mar­
tyr is revealed as a
model of clear-eyed
common sense.

In all the plays,
Shaw's intention is
to shake his audi­
ence's complacency,
challenge its hypoc­
risy, and demonstrate
how anybody who
isn't part of the solu­
tion is de facto part
of the problem. And
neither the problem
nor the solution is, in
Shaw's hands, what
you may have begun
by thinking it was.
Thus, he writes in a
preface, Mrs. Warren's Profession was written
"to draw attention to the truth that prostitu­
tion is caused, not by female depravity
or male licentiousness, but simply by
underpaying, undervaluing, and overwork­
ing women so shamefully that the poorest of
them are forced to resort to prostitution to
keep body and soul together."
Three cautions when approaching Shaw:
Wit is one of his hallmarks, but it's in the
service of intellect rather than simple enter­
tainment; don't expect a cascade of Oscar
Wilde-style epigrams and absurdities from
him. Then: It's easier to read Shaw than to
see it performed; in fact, with their explicit
and endless stage descriptions, his plays can
verge on novels, and a lot of the arguments
repay (and require) study. Finally: Remem­
ber the adjective form of Shaw's name—
"Shavian," with a long a.

218 AN I N C O M P L E T E

Lets Pau

and Co

Life

He received me very cou
ment, and furniture, and
brown suit of clothes loo
powdered wig, which wa
his breeches were loose;
had a pair of unbuckled s
ticulars were forgotten th

Published in 1791, James B
the greatest biography in th
ous erudition. In fact, in the d
intellectual superiority the way
the ability to quote Boswell qu
some (admittedly preposterous

Don't look for a story line; ju
larly entertaining guest and an
listen. And don't let the scholar
century savant seemed awesom
cessible was Boswell's mission i

Essentially a quick successio
raphy is three-dimensional and
whisked from one dinner party
Before the evening's over, howe

E EDUCATION

use jvr a Moment
onsider BoswelVs

e of Johnson

urteously; but it must be confessed that his apart­
d morning dress, were sufficiently uncouth. His
ked very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled un-
s too small for his head; his shirtneck and knees of
; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he
shoes by way of slippers. But all these slovenly par­
he moment that he began to talk.

Boswell s The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. is still
he English language and a gold mine of conspicu­
days, not so very long ago, when people aspired to
y they currently yearn for vast real estate holdings,
uoting Johnson constituted the basic literacy test in
s) social circles.
ust think of the book as a talk show with a particu­
n interviewer who knows enough to shut up and
ly reputation scare you off; Johnson the eighteenth-
me even to his contemporaries, but making him ac­
in life.
on of close-ups of Johnson holding forth, the biog­
d so fast-paced that you may feel like you're being
y to another without ever having time for a cigar.
ever, Johnson will have come alive, and, although

none of his aphorisms will help you get rid of cell
futures, you'll probably find both his unshakable
with words fortifying.

Keep in mind that Johnson was not only a grea
thor of the Dictionary of the English Language—whi
the course of eight years, after reading every nota
from Shakespeare's time to his own day and jo
thought needed explaining—and a famous "Prefa
great many other works. Also that Boswell was no
obsessed with his subject, a writer whose prodigi
style revolutionized the genre.

Finally, you might want to memorize a few bits
case intellectual snobbism comes into vogue again
some good ones to toss off in the drawing room, b
your timing, as well as your delivery, must be impe

If he does really think that there is no distin
why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us cou

Sir, a woman preaching is like a dog's walk
done well; but you are surprised to find it do

A man of genius has seldom been ruined but

That fellow seems to me to possess but one i

No man but a blockhead ever wrote except f

A cow is a very good animal in the field; but

Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.

Were it not for imagination, sir, a man woul
chambermaid as a duchess.

Worth seeing? Yes, but not worth going to s

H e is not only dull himself, but the cause of

I have found you an argument; I am not o
standing.

It is better to live rich, than to die rich.

LITERATURE 219

lulite or make a killing in corn
e moral certitude and his way

at conversationalist but the au­
ich he wrote, by himself, over
able piece of English literature
otting down all the words he
ace to Shakespeare," among a
ordinary biographer but a man
ious memory, application, and

of Johnsonese yourself, just in
during your lifetime. Here are
bearing in mind, of course that
eccable:

nction between vice and virtue,
unt our spoons.
king on his hind legs. It is not
one at all.
t by himself.
idea, and that is a wrong one.
for money.
t we turn her out of a garden.

ld be as happy in the arms of a

see.
dullness in others.

obliged to find you an under­

220 AN I N C O M P L E T E

A Bedside
Nineteenth-Cen

In general, English novels o
than, say, Faulkner; they do
iveness. But there is the proble
traipsing across, riding in, and
eties of clergy and degrees of
And then there's the money. H
in Austen, Dickens, Thackeray
Brontes.

THE TOPOGRA
THROUGH

In general, it's gentle. And it's
apply.

T h e Cornfield by
John Constable

At the Seashore

STRAND—Land bordering a riv
tween tidemarks (which mean
ocean). In London, the street c
Thames.

E EDUCATION

Companion to the
ntury English Novel

of the nineteenth century are a lot easier to read
on't ask much more of you than sheer stick-to-it-
em of understanding what all those characters are

being offered a glass of. N o t to mention the vari­
aristocracy they always seem to be bumping into.
Herewith, a partial exegesis of seven difficult areas
y, Eliot, Meredith, Trollope, Hardy, and yes, the

P H Y : PICKING YOUR WAY
THE COUNTRYSIDE

s Anglo-Saxon: N o buttes, mesas, or steppes need

ver, lake, or sea; a beach. But especially the area be­
ns the body of water is more often than not the
called the Strand occupies the former shore of the

SHINGLE—A stretch of beach covered with loose, s
sand. Also, the pebbles themselves.

BIGHT—A bend or indentation in a shoreline (so
river, as well). Therefore, a wide bay formed by su
glish word that meant "bend" or "angle," including
side of the elbow and the armpit.

In the Woods

GLADE—A clearing in a forest where the sunlight s
Has a strong positive charge: A glade is a pleasant
to "glad," and originally meant "bright.")

COPSE—A thicket of small trees or shrubs. It deriv
cut." Emotionally neutral: One might use it as a t
kindling wood. Also called "coppice."

GROVE—This one's second nature, but don't lose
undergrowth.

On the Moor

MOOR—A broad tract of open land, usually high bu
of heath (see below). An expansive, potentially thr
emotions run high, limits are hard to set, and Hea

HEATH—In common parlance, synonymous with "
ically to that part of a moor that is not quite so sogg
covered with heather.

FEN—Flat, swampy land; a bog. But especially the
peat forms, hence a frequent component of moor
lying districts in central England, not far from Cam

In the Meadow

SWARD—Basically, any land covered with grassy
lawn) or natural (a meadow); a wide expanse of gree

LITERATURE 221

smooth pebbles and little or no

ometimes used of a bend in a
uch a bend. From an Old En­
g those of the body, like the in­

shines down between tall trees.
place to be. ("Glade" is related

ves from the French couper, "to
rysting-place or as a source of

sight of its salient feature: no

ut poorly drained, with patches
reatening place: Lots happens,
thcliff goes at it with Cathy.

"moor," but refers more specif­
gy and, not totally surprisingly,

e kind of swampy land where
rs. The Fens are certain low-
mbridge.

y turf, whether man-made (a
en. Usually in heavily forested,

222 AN I N C O M P L E T E

densely populated, or somewh
spelled "swarth."

LEA—A grassland or meadow,
in Gray's "The lowing herd w
forms are pronounced either "
most of these terms.

SWALE—The thing is, it's cool
cause it's moist, if not out-an
which.) Also spelled "swail."

In the Valley

VALE—A broad, low-sided va
through it. (By extension, it's
turned into tears.)

DALE—Same as vale, though
more upbeat (as in the expres
"dell," guaranteed to be both s

GLEN—From a Gaelic word m
valley, generally remote and un

In the Hills

DOWNS—A plural form (or, les
hilly, grassy upland, good for
there. After the Downs, two p

WELD—The same open, rolling
a once-forested area of Kent
"weeld." (From the same root:
land, not necessarily wooded,

TOR—England's short on mou
gets: a rocky peak, craggy hill,
a hill.

TARN—A small mountain lake
D. H. Lawrence liked to pause

E EDUCATION

hat arid areas, swards stand out by contrast. Also

, especially one that's gone untilled for a while, as
winds slowly o'er the lea." Also spelled "ley" (both
"lee" or "lay"), it's more aggressively poetical than

l. Either it's cool because it's shady, or it's cool be­
nd-out marshy. Or both. (They don't always say

alley, generally with a good-sized stream running
the world as a scene of sorrows, with that stream

both more intimate (it's not always broad) and
ssion "up hill and down dale"). A related word is
secluded and woodsy.
meaning "mountain valley." Now any steep, narrow
nfrequented—unless by elves.

ss frequently, "down," the singular). An expanse of
grazing. Also, the short-wooled sheep developed
parallel hill ranges in southern England.
g country, but with lots of woods. After the Weald,
t, Surrey, and Sussex, in southern England. Say
"wold," an elevated tract of open country or moor­
as in the Cotswolds.)
ntains, and this is about as rugged as the landscape
or—at its least dramatic—a pile of rocks on top of

e without significant tributaries. Wordsworth and
e by same.

By the Lake

MERE—Not just the lakes of the Lake District (
Buttermere). Can be as small as a pond, and is som
ter's what's important: The word is related to the

RILL—A small brook or stream, a rivulet. N o big
fed by a few.

WEIR—A fence, enclosure of stakes, wattle, or wha
to trap fish. On a larger scale, a dam placed across
vert the water or to regulate its flow.

On the Farm

CROFT—A small enclosed field or pasture near a
farm, if it's small and down on its luck (a tenant fa

STILE—A set of steps or rungs up one side of a
other, of a sort that a person can negotiate easily b

THORP—Where they'll try to take you on Saturday
or village. They may instead call it a "ham" or a "w
now archaic, as elements in English place names.

At the Manor

CHASE—A privately owned, unenclosed game pres
hounds. And that Lady Chatterley dallies with the

HEDGEROW—A closely planted row of bushes, shru
as a fence or boundary, or as a deliberate interru
make use of a stile to get over a low-slung hedgero
guest at a great estate. Save that kind of behavior f

SHIRE—Another word for each of the counties in
But the Shires is specifically the fox-hunting distri
ing mainly of Leicestershire and Northamptonsh
"country life" counted (and counts) for a great de
dazzle London, one might still dazzle one's shire.

LITERATURE 223

(e.g., Windermere, Grasmere,
metimes used of a marsh. Wa­
Latin word for "sea."
deal, but your mere's probably

at-have-you placed in a stream
s a river or canal to raise or di­

a house. Sometimes the whole
arm, for instance).

fence or hedge and down the
but a cow can't.

y night: the nearest small town
wick." L o o k for all three words,

serve. It's here that one rides to
e gamekeeper.

ubs, or trees meant to function
uption of the view. One might
ow—though ideally not while a

for your weekend at the croft.

nto which England is divided.
ict of central England, consist­
hire. Bear in mind, too, that
eal in England: If one couldn't

224 AN I N C O M P L E T E

In the Garden

BOWER—A shaded, leafy reces
think, and which may be eithe
cottage or similar country retre
Spenser's Bower of Bliss is the
doesn't provide something that

GAZEBO—A pavilion in the mi
laed, and gingerbreaded within
look all around you: The word
struction and means roughly, "

HAHA—A staple in Jane Auste
wall, or hedge sunk into the gro
out impairing the view. So cal
encountering a particular haha

THE CL
THE DUKE AT

Frankly, it's a relentless busin
that's today. In the nineteenth
Becky Sharp, Elizabeth Benne
which, begging your pardon, si
the very top.

The Royals

A class—and a law—unto the
everyone not born into it (and
Mother) little better than com

KINGS AND QUEENS: Inaccessi
pecially in the nineteenth cent
Victoria (reigned 1837-1901
couple of Georges (between th
(IV, 1830-1837). N.B.: The y
ruled 1811-1820 for his fathe

E EDUCATION

ss, an arbor, into which one withdraws to read or
er natural or man-made. (Also, in poetry, a rustic
eat, or simply a private chamber, even a boudoir.)
legendary one, but it's the rare country house that
t passes for a bower.

iddle of a garden, usually trellised, latticed, cupo-
n an inch of its life. The idea is to stand in it and
is a fanciful takeoff on the Latin future-tense con­
"I shall gaze."

en novels. It can be a moat, or just a fence, stone
ound; either way, it encloses a garden or park with­
lled after the presumed exclamation of somebody
a for the first time.

LASS STRUCTURE:
T H E TOP OF T H E STAIRS

ness. Also, complicated and patently unfair. And
h century, things were considerably worse; just ask
et, or Pip. But before you do, glance over this table,

ir or ma'am, begins just where you'd expect it to: at

emselves. Even now there are those who consider
d that includes dukes, duchesses, and the Queen
mmoners.

ible, perhaps, but easy to pick out in a crowd, es­
tury, during which there were only four of them.
) needs no introduction here. Before her came a
hem, they reigned 1760-1830) and one William
younger George (who would become George IV)
er (III), who was declared hopelessly insane (al-

T h e Coronation of Queen Victoria by Sir George H

though he did eventually recover). This period
social complacency, moral laxity, and ostentatiou
opportunities for clotheshorses and adventurers; a
rianism.

Upon meeting the king or queen: Bow or curtsy—
theirs—and say "your majesty. " Thereafter, say "sir"

PRINCES AND PRINCESSES: Although in fairly wide
princes, for instance, are usually not royal and rank
titles are reserved for the children of the sovereig
those of his grandchildren who are descended thr
typically makes her husband a prince, too. (The gra
day's Princess Alexandra, a granddaughter of Geo
Duke of Kent; the husband one explains Prince P
tury two princes figured prominently: George, t
Victoria's husband, the prince consort. Prince of
title traditionally conferred on the sovereign's olde

Upon meeting a prince or princess: Bow or curts
subsequently "sir"or "ma'am."

The Nobles

Or, as the English like to say, the peers of the realm
title—or as often, package of titles—to his oldest s
ness had to do with ownership of land, discharge

Hay ter

d—the Regency—was one of
us display; provided abundant
and, in a way, provoked Victo-

—depending on your gender, not
or "ma am. "

e use on the Continent (French
k below dukes), in England the
gn and—feminists take note—
rough his sons; a ruling queen
andchild provision explains to­
orge V through her father, the
Philip.) In the nineteenth cen­
he prince regent, and Albert,

Wales is, as you've heard, the
est son.
sy and say "your royal highness, "

m, each of whom passes on his
son. Originally the whole busi­

of feudal obligations, and the

226 AN I N C O M P L E T E

wielding of actual power rathe
few centuries, though, it s mea
five strengths), together with a
titles are not bequeathable) an
House of Lords and continue,
with her lords and ladies—and
you'll need to remember the fi
N.B.: A duchess, marchioness
etc.; however, if a woman is th
no male heirs, she becomes a d

DUKES AND DUCHESSES: A very
grees of the peerage. Histori
areas—like Bavaria and Norm
This was never the case in En
1338, but even so, they're a rar
in number. There are a few "ro
late Duke of Windsor or the p
seem to like having a title beyo
also served as a reward for mil
Wellington.

Upon meeting a duke, say "yo

MARQUESSES AND MARCHIONE
spelled "marquis," in the Fren
from "march," an old word for
first (the first and second hono
in this kingdom"), but eventua
Formerly a reward for viceroys
compensation to relatives of G
ously inappropriate German ti
there are dukes.

Upon meeting a marquess—or
say "my lord. " Call his wife "ma

EARLS AND COUNTESSES: Willi
tury, to substitute the Continen
fond of the distinction between
sition," and ceorl, an Old Eng
only hereditary title around at t

E EDUCATION

er than with mere wealth and privilege. For the last
ant only that such hereditary peers (who come in
a few "life" peers (who come in only one and whose
nd Church of England bigwigs, sit together in the
with their wives and children, to provide England
d her much-debated class system. (The mnemonic
ve-tiered structure is "Do men ever visit Boston?")
s, etc., is most often the wife of a duke, marquess,
he oldest daughter of a duke (etc.) in a family with
duchess (etc.) "in her own right."

y big deal, head and shoulders above the other de­
ically, throughout Europe dukes controlled vast
mandy—and pretty much called their own shots.
ngland, where the first duke wasn't created until
re and much-deferred-to breed, a couple of dozen
oyal dukes," too, relatives of the sovereign like the
present Dukes of Gloucester, Kent, and York, who
ond the "prince" that's theirs by birth. The title has
litary heroes, like the Dukes of Marlborough and

our grace" His wife, the duchess, is "your grace," too.

ESSES: First of all it's "MAR-kwiss" (even when
nch manner) and "MAR-shuness," and it comes
a border territory. The title wasn't well received at
orées complained that "Marquess is a strange name
ally, with Tudor persistence, it gained acceptance.
s of India upon their return home, and, in 1917, a
George V when he made them give up their obvi­
itles, there are almost as few marquesses around as

r anybodyfrom thefour lower grades of the peerage—
adam. "

am the Conqueror tried, back in the eleventh cen­
ntal title "count," but nobody bit: They were all too
n eorl, an O l d English word meaning "man of po­
glish word meaning "churl"; besides, "earl" was the
the time, and it damn well should have a native fla-

vor. (Women, on the other hand, seem to have h
French import—hence "countess.") Today there are
particularly effective prime ministers, like Disraeli,
Anthony Eden, the Earl of Avon, are rewarded wit

VISCOUNTS AND VISCOUNTESSES: That's "VYE-cou
the title originally designated the fellow who stood
cisely, given that this is England, the earl. (The "
president.") The most recendy instituted of the
accepted way to say thank you to a good speaker o

BARONS AND BARONESSES: LOW men on the peerag
inally, those Englishmen whose ancestors had foug
Wales, Scotland, and France, and more recently a
trade-union leaders (who are generally given the
stration of their lack of precedence, barons are n
merely as Lord So-and-so. (For the record, the se
the Marquess of V, the Earl of W, the Viscount X
is, similarly, Lady Y, never the baroness. Sometim
with Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

AS FOR THE KIDS: In general, only the oldest son c
until the old man kicks off. In the meantime, if tha
or earl, the son is awarded a "courtesy" tide, one of
e.g., the son of a still-living Duke of Wellington
Duoro until the major title comes free; eldest son
have to wait. They, and everyone else in the secon
of them for life—with what's called a courtesy sty
duke or marquess), you're "Lord" or "Lady": Lo
Brown (daughters of earls are "Lady," too). If you'
ple "The Hon." (read: "The Honourable") to put
John Doe, T h e Hon. Jane Doe. A s for the grandc
unless they belong to the oldest son.

The Lesser Nobles

Or, depending on your point of view, the titled co
sizes: the baronet and the knight. Don't look for e

LITERATURE 227

had less resistance to the chic
e a couple of hundred earldoms;
, the Earl of Beaconsfield, and
th them when they retire.

unt" and "VYE-countess," and
d in for the count or, more pre­
"vis-" is like the "vice" in "vice
e five grades (1440), i t s the
of the House of Commons.

ge totem pole, taking in, orig­
ght during the Middle Ages in
a number of industrialists and
title only for life). A s demon­
never referred to by their tide,
equence goes: the Duke of U,
X , and Lord Y.) Lord Y's wife
mes a given name sneaks in, as

comes out on top—though not
at old man is a duke, marquess,

his father's lesser ones, to use:
would be titled the Marquess
ns of viscounts and barons just
nd generation, make do—most
yle. If you're lucky (Daddy's a
ord John Brown, Lady Mary
're not so lucky, you get a sim­
before your name: The Hon.
children: They're on their own

ommoners. They come in two
either in the House of Lords.

228 AN I N C O M P L E T E

BARONETS: Literally, "little ba
stigated "a new dignitie betwee
ternal grandfather had borne a
thousand pounds, and who wa
these Johnny-come-latelies we
selves as noble, they were enco
they could pass their title on t
Pitt Crawley—dirty, cynical, c

Say: "SirJohn."His wife is "L

KNIGHTS: The knight was the
mounted horseman who fough
lady. For a while now, it's bee
gland by far; allows the male re
recipient a "Dame" (her husban
anteed for one lifetime and on

Say: As with a baronet. Plus,

The Gentry

They can be of birth as high an
them are the descendants of tha
no getting around the fact that,
their fortunes may be, they are
Burkes point out, they're the on

ESQUIRES: In the Middle Ages
carried his gear. Once the Mi
that the category might be u
peers, the sons of baronets, th
sons of peers, and their eldest
of a knight, and his eldest so
arms, officers of the Army or N
counties for life, J.P.'s of co
Queen's counsel . . ." and, wel
one with connotations of both
number of people who would
no better than their neighbors.
torians jealously reserved "esq
commercial and industrial type
of this century, the word had

E EDUCATION

rons." In 1611, King James I, needing capital, in­
en Barons and Knights," open to anyone whose pa­
arms, who possessed an annual income of at least a
as willing to make a £1,095 down payment. While
ere not, under any circumstances, to think of them­
ouraged to adopt the style Sir John Lately, Bt., and
to their—that's right—oldest son. Vanity Fairs Sir
coarse—is one side of the baronet story.
Lady Lately."

e most significant figure in the feudal system, a
ht for his liege lord and defended the honor of his
en the most frequently conferred "dignity" in En­
ecipient a "Sir" (his wife is "Lady") and the female
nd gets nothing); but wouldn't you know, it's guar­
ne lifetime only.
"Dame Agatha. "

nd breeding as fine as the nobility; in fact, many of
at nobility's younger sons and daughters. But there's
as intimidating as their manners and as awesome as
e sadly lacking in one thing: titles. As the people at
ly untitled aristocracy in the world.

s, the esquire (or squire) attended the knight and
iddle Ages were over, though, somebody decided
usefully applied to—and we quote—"the sons of
he sons of knights, the eldest sons of the younger
sons in perpetuity, the eldest son of the eldest son
on in perpetuity, the king of arms, the herald of
Navy of the rank of captain and upward, sheriffs of
unties whilst in commission, serjeants-at-arms,
ll, you get the picture: It's a catchall, really, albeit
h rank and real estate, and a way of appeasing any

otherwise risk seeming, in the eyes of the world,
. It didn't really work out, though. While the Vic­
quire" for the landed gentry, and withheld it from
es with too much and too new money, by the start
lost—through careless usage—almost all its dis-

tinction. Today the entire male population of Brit
addressed (an "Esq." after their name taking the
mail-order houses and book clubs.

A note on squires: Not so much an honor or ev
way of life. They were the big country landowners
financial leverage over their districts or villages, like
A paternal lot, who spoke in broad provincial dialec
necessarily esquires (although they were certainly
squirearchy was extinguished in England by the inc
banism of the nineteenth century.

GENTLEMEN: Historically, of "gentle" birth, entit
least three hundred acres of land, but lacking the
esquire, let alone a knight or better. For more than
had almost no agreed-upon meaning at all (as t
Fowler lamented, "We are all of us esquires now, a
men"), but in Jane Austen's day it was still som
Collins was considered an appropriate suitor for E
cause he was a gentleman, even though he was als
cousin. (And Charlotte Lucas, a knight's daughte
him.)

And So On

Ugh: mostly peasants, servants, grooms, tradesmen
won't be paying them your respects. It's enough th
them and occasionally throw a little business their
handful of folks whom, while they aren't gentry, m
sider having a dance or two with on a slow Saturda

YEOMEN: And here we pass from what is basica
what is, at most, the middle middle one—small, i
the squirearchy, would be forced out of existenc
nineteenth-century life, but who up until their dem
for being sturdy and hardworking, sometimes even
kind of integrity that England is always tapping y
it has. Respectable, landowning, and they could
(see page 245) wouldn't let poor Harriet Smith ma

LITERATURE 229

tain and Ireland is regularly so
place of a "Mr." before it) by

ven a slot in the hierarchy as a
s who exercised authority and
e Squire Western in Tom Jones.
ct, rode to hounds, and weren't
y gendemen; see below), the
creasing taxes and creeping ur-

tled to bear arms, owning at
larger distinction of being an
n a century now the word has
that old curmudgeon H. W.
and we are none of us gentle­
ething to keep in mind: Mr.
Elizabeth Bennet precisely be­
so a fool, a clergyman, and her
er, no less, was happy to land

n, and the like. Obviously, you
hat you're civil (but firm) with

way. Nevertheless, there are a
mind you, one just might con­
ay night. They are the . . .

lly the upper middle class to
ndependent farmers who, like
ce by the pressurized ways of
mise as a class had a reputation
n educated, and possessed the
you on the shoulder to tell you
vote, but Emma Woodhouse
arry one.

2JO AN I N C O M P L E T E

THE CLERG
YOU SHO
EXPRES

One of the quainter, and mo
novel is the local clergyman. O
an evening of whist without d
always seemed to show up wea
ar's wife? A n d why, pray tell, w

RECTOR: T h e head clergyman
lands and owned its tithes. H
sons. In the eighteenth centur
tradesmen, with no social st
nineteenth century, enough o
turn the clergy into a fit callin
nineteenth-century rector was
least, was the social equal of th
cards and go grouse hunting. H
devoted most of his time to rai
ran the church. In reality, how
come, nor the knack for turnin
a gendeman's lifestyle. They w
treated them like poor relation
again, the insufferable Mr. C
troness, the Lady Catherine d

VICAR: A sort of freelance par
who heads a parish in which
squire). The vicar lived in a vi
or salary in lieu of tithes, had

E EDUCATION

GY: KEEPING THEM—
OULD PARDON THE
SSION—STRAIGHT

ore confusing, fixtures in your nineteenth-century
On the one hand, it was apparently hard to arrange
deferring to the rector; on the other hand, his wife
aring someone's cast-off frock. Or was that the vic­
wasn't the curate invited?

n of a country parish, who had rights to the parish
e held his post for life and could pass it on to his
ry, most rectors were the children of farmers and
tatus to speak of, but by the beginning of the
of them had made a killing in local agriculture to
ng for the younger sons of gentry. As a result, the
s usually an educated gentleman, who in theory at
he local squire, with whom he was expected to play
H e functioned as if he were a landowner and often
ising crops profitably while his underpaid assistants
ever, most rectors had neither the independent in­
ng a profit from parish lands, necessary to keep up
were often dependent on upper-class patrons who

ns. The classic example of this type of rector is, once
ollins, who spends his life fawning upon his pa­
e Bourgh.

rson who stands in for a dead or absent rector or
the tithes belong to someone else (e.g., the local
icarage instead of a rectory, collected an allowance
no control over the land, and was only a transient

(which is to say, he hadn't been established in the n
In terms of education and breeding, however, he w
he had a big enough independent income, could o
abolished in England in 1936, the terms "rector" an

PARSON: A very general term (thought to derive fro
reassuringly, means "person") for the head of a par
or for any Protestant minister below the rank of bi
ity to conduct religious services.

CURATE: Assistant to the rector or vicar, who usu
church work of the parish. Members of the "i
known for being poor, insecure, and a little uncou
will probably have a large brood of ragged children
is constantly making up baskets of provisions. Don
with the French curé, or "parish priest." (And le vi
sistant.)

BEADLE: A minor parish officer who along with v
ushers people in and out of Sunday services, deliver
generally keeps the parishioners, especially the sma
short, a sort of church constable.

SEXTON: A kind of dignified janitor, who takes care
church bells, and digs the graves.

THE DRINKS: WHAT TO SE
OYSTERS, T H E SOUP, T H
SAVOURY, T H E GAME, T
AND THE CIG

First, you need to know that upstairs, the lords a
and bottles of it. Oh, a gentleman in need of fortif

LITERATURE

neighborhood for generations).
was the equal of a rector and, if
one-up him. After tithes were
nd "vicar" became synonymous.
om the French personne, which,
rish—i.e., a rector or a vicar—
ishop who has enough author­

ually did most of the tedious
inferior clergy," curates were
uth; in your novel, the curate
n for whom the gentle heroine
n't confuse the English curate
icaire is conversely, le cure's a s ­

various nonecclesiastical tasks,
rs messages for the parson, and
all boy parishioners, in line. In

e of church property, rings the

ERVE WITH THE
HE FISH, THE
THE TRIFLE,
GAR

and ladies drank wine, bottles
fication might have the occa-