"I'll Trade You My Umbrella For A Whig:" Taking a Closer Look at Swift's "Shower"

The satiric pieces we’ve been reading the last few weeks have proved a little more challenging for me than I expected them to be. However, our continued discussion about Swift (and other satirists), as well as Dr. Hague’s explications have definitely helped me to read the satiric pieces with a little more clarity. Although I'm fairly competent at spotting satire, or even the type of satire, it's not always easy for me to understand what exactly is the object of the satire, but in light of our recent discussions, I would like to use Swift’s “Description of a City Shower” to explore the “what” that Swift is satirizing. 

Swift spends much of the first half of the poem describing a rain-storm. Yet, the way in which the rain is described is unexpected. Consider the following lines: “A sable cloud... that swilled more liquor than it could contain, / And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.”  Far from cleansing, the rain here is equated with vomit. Swift goes on to describe the rain as water being flung from a dirty mop, as it mixes with dust that the wind picks up: “Twas doubtful which was rain and which was dust.” This is not the cleansing sort of image that we might expect from a “city shower,” However, this dirty shower has as unusual (and ironic) effect. As the flood comes down, “threatening with deluge this devoted town,” the narrator claims that people from various walks of life, “commence acquaintance underneath a shed.”  To get out of the filthy rain, “Triumphant Tories and desponding Whigs / Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.” Swift’s choice of words here give us a clue to the object of satire in the poem. The Tories and the Whigs took opposing stances on the type of governing each group believed was best (the Tories supported a stronger monarchy, while the Whigs supported the Parliament over the monarchy). 

On the one hand, that these two opposing groups have abandoned their “feuds” long enough to share shelter from the rain, reveals that this filthy rain has caused the parties to (temporarily) abandon their “labels,” so that, for the duration of the shower, they aren’t Tories or Whigs, but just men with a common need.  On the other hand, that the only thing both parties are concerned about is the condition of their wigs, shows that they are not coming together for a reason that really matters. In other words, they’ve thoroughly missed the point, even after seeking shelter together. Their only point of unification is that they are very concerned with their personal appearances, not with the damage or leftover filth/stinch that will result from the “sweepings from butchers' stalls... drowned puppies... dead cats.” They may as well have been standing under their own umbrellas, because nothing has really changed. There is still filth all around them, and they're merely concerned with their wigs.

To get to the point of Swift’s object, I’d like to share a few lines from the letter Swift wrote to Pope (Thank you, Dr. Hague, for providing this):  “I have ever hated all nations, professions, and communities, and all my love is toward individuals... I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and so forth... but principally I hate and detest that animal called man.” Knowing how much Swift detested institutions/groups of people sheds some light on this poem. That Swift directly refers to groups (Tories and Whigs) and not to individuals shows that he is clearly putting the professions of “man” in the satirical spotlight and believes such groups will not result in bringing about a “cleansing” change to individuals. 

You have to bite for it to hurt, Dr. Swift.

After re-reading "Verses on the death of Dr. Swift," one particular "verse" jumped out at me. Voila the lines: "Why must I be outdone by Gay/ In my own hum'rous biting Way?" (lines 53-4). i laughed a little after reading this, because I thought it was both sweet and funny that he referenced his good friend and writer John Gay in his satiric poem.  To back up a little, all of the lines leading up to these explore the notion/folly of human nature to have a sort of "better you than me" mentality.  We see this in lines like these: "Dear honest Ned is in the Gout / Lies rackt with Pain, and you without / How patiently you hear him groan! / How glad the Case is not your own! (lines 27-30).
We also see lines like these that point out jealousy between peers: "What poet would not grieve to see / His Brethren write as well as he? (lines31-2). So basically, Swift is saying that we're all extremely self-centred and narcissistic on some level. 


Now, back to the verse that I giggled at. Given the subject of satire that has consumed me of late, i couldn't help but find this line interesting. So, let's look at these lines closely through the colorful lens of satire.  Now, we know that satire uses irony, whit, and sometimes sarcasm to expose humanity’s vices, giving impetus to change through ridicule, but there are also different types of satire. two main types are Horatian and Juvenalian. Now Horatian satire pokes fun at human foibles with a witty or even indulgent tone (also described as gentle, urbane, smiling), while Juvenalian satire denounces human vice in solemn tones (also described as bitter, biting, angry).  

Given what we know, then, about satire, it is interesting that Swift chooses to describe his writing as “biting” when his verses are so clearly written in a Horatian style (Methinks your bark is far better than your bite, Dr. Swift). That he would attribute to himself the same foibles he is critiquing/mocking is a smart move because it more readily gives impetus to change.  In other words, people who read these verses won’t think he’s a “holier-than-thou” type on a podium looking down upon humanity (No doubt the humor helps in that respect, as well). 

I think that what makes this piece so effective as a satire is its humorous, light-hearted accessibility.  There’s  kind of sweetness to that “we’re all in this together” mentality prevalent throughout much of Swift’s verses.  Sure, its hyperbolic, but there’s a lot of truth in it, as well.  The truth is always easier to swallow with a healthy dose of laughter, and a good glass of wine as far as I could tell, Swift didn’t mention that he had a problem with drinking, so here’s to ridding oneself of some vices, and celebrating a few more. 

Cheers to you, Dr. Swift.

To Judge or Not to Judge: Taking a Closer Look at Justice in 18th Century London

After reading several court cases on the old bailey online, let me first say how glad I am to not have lived in 18th century London. I found one case particularly depressing. The opening lines of the trial give a hint at the dismal accounts that follow: “The Ordinary of Newgate, his account of the behavior, the confession, and dying words of the Malefactors who were executed at Tyburn, on... Wednesday the 8th of February, 1743-4.”  Basically, this “Ordinary” fellow reports that of the group of 18 prisoners “lying under sentence of death in the cells of Newgate,” 8 of them seem to have received “his majesty’s most Gracious reprieve for transportation for life.” What’s interesting are the crimes of the 8 who are allowed to live, vs. the crimes of the ones who are sentenced to death.  For example, among the 8 are Samuel Bowring and Henry Barret who assaulted and robbed another man, John Lane. Another of the 8, is Julius Hunt, who assaulted John Doo on the highway, “putting him in fear, and taking from him a leather pouch.”  In fact, most of the 8 cases are some combination of assault and robbery. By contrast, of the remaining 10 who were ordered for execution, robbery seems to be the predominant crime. In fact, as far as I could tell, none of the remaining 10 seemed to have physically harmed anyone.  However, much more detail is given about these men then the other 8, though not about their specific crimes as much as their backgrounds: whether or not their parents were respectable people, how often they attended church, what country they came from, etc.  In fact, the background information of each individual seems to play more of a hand in the sentencing than does the actual crime for which they are on trial.  For example, Joseph Isaacs is a 19 year old who is frequently described as Jewish: “of credible parents, who educated him well in the Jewish way and religion.”  Even though it seems the Ordinary is complimenting his Jewish upbringing here, later Joseph is suddenly described as a “youth of very corrupt principles” who was acquainted with “grangs of thieves, particularly a number of Jews, who are now much more irregular and thievish than they used to be formerly.”  Here, we get a taste of serious racial prejudice that no doubt had a hand in his sentencing, as we see even more blatantly at the end of the Ordinary’s account of Joseph: “I did not much insist upon converting him from his Infidelity, he being most obstinate in their unreasonable Way of thinking, and unwilling to embrace the Principles of Christianity, being fortified in such bad Principles by their Priests and Rabbis coming about them: He pretended to repent and died an obstinate Jew.”

Although the persons in each of these 10 cases seem undeserving of the fatal sentence their crimes brought upon them, the strangest case of these 10 is William Clark, a 50 year old man with a wife and several children, born in Oxford, “of modest, mean parents who... had him instructed in the Christian faith.” The Ordinary goes on to describe him several times as an “honest” man, having a good reputation, frequently attending church, and “not being of such a dissolute, lew’d conversation, as most of these abandoned creatures are.”  Apart from this last snide comment, Mr. Clark is described throughout by the Ordinary as a good person, having never been guilty of robbery or theft, “excepting the robbery for which he died.” Now, this puzzled me greatly that Mr. Clark would be sentenced to death for a one time offense of stealing a few valuables.  However, as I read on, I found a clue as to why he may have received this fate: “This he confessed he did by himself, being tempted thereto by the solicitations of the devil, not being under any want or necessity.”  This statement reveals that the judicial system in 18th century London placed much weight on intent concerning crime (and, I would argue, social standing, pointing back to the Ordinary’s description of Mr. Clark as an “abandoned creature”). 

The biggest difference between the judicial system in 18th century London and today (apart from the obvious “fair trial”) is this idea of an individual versus a collective trial, which (as the cases listed above are testament to), not only makes each case blur into the next one, depriving the individual of a fair trial, but also de-sensitizes those passing sentence to the individual human experience.  This de-valuing of human life is astonishing to me.

A Muddle'd History: Searching for Atonement in "Moll Flanders"

As I was reviewing our most recent reading from "Moll Flanders," trying to decide what to write about, I was reminded of a Bible verse I was taught as a child concerning the realm of things "unknown" (or more perfectly, the answer that religious persons love to give to "skeptics" concerning the validity of the scriptures, but that is another subject entirely).  The verse reads, "For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even also as I am known" (1 Corinthians 13:12).  The general idea is that, until we meet god "face to face," we will only know the "ways of god" in part, because the scriptures only provide us with a foggy lens.  While I don't consider myself a religious person, the thought of dark glass came to mind when reading about the "fortunes and misfortunes" of Moll.  In the preface, Mr. Defoe attempts to sway readers toward a more "perfect" reading of the history of Moll, stating that, if one "knows how to read it...such readers will be much more pleas'd with the moral, than the fable" (40).  He suggests even further that because there is not a "wicked action"in any part of the story that is not "rendered unhappy and unfortunate," that this "abundantly attones for all the lively description she gives to her folly and wickedness" (40-41). Despite (or in some cases, because of) Mr. Defoe's impassioned attempts to "paint" the reading of "Moll Flanders"in Christian tones, much is left to question, especially considering the "she" who is giving the descriptions of folly and wickedness.  It goes without saying that a man "speaking" as a woman is problematic.  However, this man-as-woman voice coupled with Defoe's urge to readers to read this as purely a Christian cautionary tale of a woman's fall into debauchery (and eventual redemption, we can assume), proves extremely contradictory on multiple levels.

At the beginning of the story, after we learn that Moll was left by her mother "in bad hands" (or, with gypsies) as a baby, Moll tells us that she ended up at Colchester in Essex, and that although she can't recall exactly what happened, she has a notion that she "left them there... and wouldn't go any further with them" (46-47). The text seems to suggest that she knew the people she was with were un-godly, so she hid from them.  However, to suggest that a child who is "not above three," would discern such a thing, is far-fetched (I mean, seriously?). We see an example of this again when, at ten years old, she is living with her "mere" mother.  One day, she is visited by Mrs. Mayoress, and she is "terrible frightened at first," though she "did not know why"(50). This passage seems to foreshadow the eminent downfall that Moll will experience. Both of these passages (along with others) imply an innate moral compass that warns and guides Moll even before she is beyond the age of "innocence." In other words, Defoe ascribes adult moral implications to a child's natural response (fear) to her circumstances (something that a mother, perhaps, would not be so quick to ascribe).

Another source of contention within the text is found after Moll is living at the house of Mrs. Mayoress.  Moll states that, knowing that she was prettier and more talented than the Mayoress' two daughters, she had, "the common vanity" of her sex--that same vanity that she professed would be the cause of her ruin (55).  Now, this admission of vanity is not all by itself problematic, but a few pages later, as Moll describes her "correspondence" with the elder brother, she pauses to charge young readers to "guard themselves against the mischiefs which attend an early knowledge of their own beauty," going on to say that, "if a young woman once thinks herself handsome, she never doubts the truth of any man, that tells her he is in love with her" (59).  Although a warning against vanity seems somewhat appropriate considering the context of Defoe's "history," to proclaim so blatantly that for a woman to think herself beautiful will undoubtedly thrust her into the arms of any man who claims to love her--and to do so with a woman's voice, shatters any illusion of authenticity.  Not only is it demeaning to suggest that a woman shouldn't think herself beautiful, but it perpetuates a male-dominated "morality," that insists upon a "woman's virtue" but justifies its absence in themselves.  Even more rallying for this kind of morality is found in Defoe's depiction of the elder brother, who is less-than-selfless in his earnest pleas with Moll to marry his brother Robert (instead of himself).  Now, Moll does recognize this, when, after recalling how cleverly he answered all her objections, she relays that he persuaded his brother of the service he had done (in securing the proposal), which, "was not indeed done to serve him, but to serve himself; but thus diligently did he cheat him, and had the thanks of a faithful friend for shifting off his whore into his brother's arms for a wife" (88).  On the surface, because Moll recognizes this manipulation of the older brother, it seems that Defoe may be inciting pity for her plight. However, the older brother suffers no consequences for his actions, even though it is his fault that Moll has "lost her reputation" (86).  Furthermore, although Defoe reveals that the brother's actions are unkind, we learn even in the preface that Defoe appropriates abandonment if it is done in the name of repentance: "The repentance of her lover at the Bath, and how brought by the just alarm of his fit of sickness to abandon her... [this story, along with others in this book] has more real beauty in them than all the amorous chain of story, which introduces it" (brackets are my clarification) (40).  This statement, along with the rest of Defoe's calls to a "righteous reading" in the preface, only serves to subvert the story that follows it, for it allows a man to wash his hands of a woman, and therefore absolve himself of his responsibility towards her if it's done in the name of atonement, and gives a woman no such privilege.