Welcome to this week’s Reading Diary, our last of the semester. You’ll need to post twice here this week week. Posts are due at 5pm on Monday and Wednesday. If you’re hosting an Appetizer this week, you don’t need to post here at all!
On Tuesday, instead of posting here, please post your idea for your final project in the final project discussion thread.
And coming back to Appetizers, you’ll also be posting in a special discussion section with a small group of other students in response to one of this week’s Appetizer posts. You’ll post there three times per week: Mondays and Wednesdays by 5pm, Thursdays before class.
Head on over to the Schedule for weekly Appetizer assignments, and check The Plan for a full description of changes to the course.
Opening Prompt: In our final reading for the semester, we come back to the man who started it all: Sir John Falstaff. In Henry IV Part 1, you met him as a dynamic physical force, an emblem of everything carnivalesque. In Merry Wives, his scope is somewhat reduced: he is still the fat, drunken, lustful rogue, but he’s penned in now by a world of bourgeois sexual morality. To begin our conversation this week, let’s focus specifically on Falstaff’s body: how is he described by the people he meets? How does he describe himself? How does his body come into play in the stage action? For those of you watching the filmed stage production (everyone, I hope – check your email), what use does the actor playing Falstaff make of his body? Is Falstaff’s body the only trace of the grotesque in this play, or are there others?
The thing that stood out to me in the description of Falstaff and how people react to him is how big they act like his stomach is. The moment when Mistress Ford takes out a measuring tape to measure his stomach partially for the dress, partially for kicks and giggles with Mistress Page and their reactions of his stomach taking up the entire measure tape really solidified for me how unusually large his body was supposed to be. While it makes sense since he is both gluttonous in his physical appetite as well as his sexual one, it separates him from the rest of the cast. His body is part of what separates him from the high society of Windsor, and it embodies the low morality of his character: he cannot even moderate himself to choose one of the wives, but must have both, humiliating himself a total of three times to sate his desire of sleeping with them. Regardless of that, the actor who plays Falstaff really owns the body and uses almost as a way to say “There’s more to love!” Falstaff is aware of his body, even acknowledging that he would be the biggest stag in the forest, but he still embellishes it with rich fabric and costuming throughout the play. While his body is usually the joke, Falstaff is unbothered and does not try to cover it up.
I find myself thinking about the conversation in Act I, Scene III, where Falstaff describes himself using a pun: “Indeed I am in the waist two yards about; but I am now about no waste.”
For me, this wordplay creates a direct correlation in the play between Falstaff’s fatness and his humor — and therefore more broadly, a connection between fatness and humor. The ability to craft a poetic connection between waist/waste links the comedy in the eyes of the audience to an idea of comical size.
Later in the same scene, he says of Mistress Ford: “O, she did so course o’er my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass!”
I’m struck here by the carnivalesque ideas of plenty and abundance, but this time in reference to Ford’s desire (greed, as it is described) that is so plentiful that only a man of Falstaff’s size could fulfill. This seems to evoke further positive connotations with fatness in the play; Falstaff’s size indicates a sort of superiority to those by whom Ford would, as it is implied, would not be satisfied.
I was somewhat struck by the effect that Falstaff’s misfortunes had on his body. I never would have thought twice about this before this class, but I found it amusing that when we was thrown in the river and then beaten by Ford, there was no visual effect on his body. They never showed him a little wet, or with some fake blood or anything at all to indicate what had happened to him, which I felt was rather ungrotesque, since normally those kinds of injuries would have been obvious and somewhat welcome. They spoke extensively about the greasiness of the clothes in the basket, but we never saw any dirty or gross clothes at all (they all were perfectly white!) I feel that though small details, and perhaps not always something that could happen on stage, they didn’t always fit in with the grotesque words the characters spoke.
In the same vein, Falstaff in this play seemed very well put together (perhaps because he was working to impress the ladies, but even before he got dressed up for them he seemed as clean as anyone else.) He wasn’t dirty or smelly in the way we saw him before, he was just fat; he was definitely reduced from his former glory in some ways (but not in others!)
I was also surprised at how Falstaff looked in this adaptation. The first time he appears he is dressed very similarly to the other characters on stage and he doesn’t look disheveled at all. It was a huge contrast from the way we saw him in Henry IV. In that production that we saw, Falstaff seemed a lot less clean and put together, and a lot of the humor came from that and his juxtaposition with Hal. This production seemed to be missing that part of Falstaff’s character and humor.
Even though Falstaff lacks some of the grimy, disheveled characteristics that we see in Henry IV, I think that his presentable appearances lend to an even bigger effect on his words and actions. When we see him with the other members of the cast (like Mistress Paige and Mistress Ford) he seems to blend in well––looking like an upstanding and virtuous citizen. When he opens his mouth, however, the shock is even greater at some of the crude things he says (not to mention his gestures).
What I found really interesting is Falstaff’s self-awareness regarding his body. Falstaff’s attitude towards his body is super clear, but we know that he does not feel bad about his body. It seems he knows that his appearance is not as good as that of some other noblemen, but when Mistress Quickly mentions those wooers of Mistress Ford, Falstaff shows obvious confidence and believes in his own special charm which defeats all of them. This confidence never disappears and even continues after the first time he gets trapped. In Act 3, Scene 5, where Falstaff talks about his weight: “And you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as hell, I should down.” Falstaff knows very well how his body makes his situation even more embarrassing, and he does not avoid these embarrassments while talking with Ford, but instead shows confidence in himself again. No matter what kind of misfortune Falstaff has experienced because of his characters and his body, he never seems to have any doubt or negative emotions about himself. His performance so far makes me curious about his reaction when this trap was revealed, and I wonder if he would look at his body in a different way.
One thing that impressed me about the grotesque in relation to Falstaff was that, kind of like Hannah pointed out, we don’t really experience the grotesque except with relation to his size, which is only one axis of the grotesque as described by Bakhtin. Obviously he’s very lustful, but the example of Falstaff we saw in Henry IV embodied the embodiedness (for lack of a better term) of truly consistent consumption whereas the Falstaff in Merry Wives only drinks a little (though he does demand sac a lot). It’s hard to quantify, but the Falstaff in Henry IV seemed messier and more connected to his body and the ‘world’ in the grotesque way, while Falstaff in Merry Wives was more discrete from the ‘world’ (or at least it seems to me) and more proper. (Despite their cleanliness (and perhaps disqualified from the grotesque proper by their cleanliness), the wives themselves seemed more carnivalesque to me, maybe simply because they had more stage time.) Basically, Falstaff is described by himself and frequently by others as fat, but that fatness doesn’t seem sufficient to comprise the entirety of the grotesque phenomenon.
One of my favorite moments of the play was the letter Falstaff wrote for Mistress Paige, even though his fatness is not mentioned. She seems excited to get a love letter at her age, but it starts off “ask me no reason why I love you, you are not young. No more am I.” It goes on to say they are both merry and enjoy drinking. He then refers to himself as a soldier and a knight which of course is true but in a comic way. He then mocks his knighthood by saying “by day or night, or any kind of light…” and continues making some more terrible rhymes. Mistress Paige then turns over the letter and sees who read it and is immediately angry.
I like this letter since I feel like the whole time I could hear Falstaff saying it (thought the one from Henry IV Part 1), and enjoyed the way he portrayed himself. Instead of pretending to be a young suitor, which Mistress Paige accuses him of, he starts off bu calling himself old, then drunk, then makes a joke of his knighthood. Even though he makes no comment to his weight, this still feels very much like Falstaff as he is self deprecating and pretends to be regular nobility at times but always mocks it.
I’m enjoying the conversation so far. Instead of posting today (Tuesday), however, head on over to the Final Project Ideas thread and share your thoughts there (https://farmer.sites.haverford.edu/csts202/uncategorized/final-project-ideas/).
When you come back here on Wednesday, let’s build out our sense of Falstaff in this play by putting him once again into the war between Carnival and Lent. In a famous analysis of Falstaff in Henry IV, Michael Bristol argued that the play enacted a battle between Carnival (Falstaff and his pupil, Hal) and Lent (Hal as he develops towards his future identity, King Henry); by the end of the series of plays, Lent has won, Hal has become the dry and serious King Henry, and Falstaff is first banished, and then dies. Here we see a similar conflict enacted around less lofty stakes: Falstaff in his messy, fat, exuberant Carnival self vs. the wives and their clever revenge and primly contained sexuality.
What Carnival truths do we learn by watching the defeat of Falstaff? Is there any hope for Carnival, or must Lent always win? Do you find yourself siding with Falstaff, with the wives, or with other parties to the conflict in this play? What do you make of that inclination?
I think that the biggest Carnival truth that I realized is how unaccommodating our everyday lives are for Carnival. While we can have fun and be crazy, we ultimately have made our society one full of social obligations and morals that can be less clear in the world of Carnival. Maybe in Carnival you can attempt to sleep with two married women, but in our life it’s morally wrong to do and bad to even consider. Whether or not Carnival would win is a question of whether or not our society can be sustained under its conditions; to argue for it, Falstaff and his buddies seem to be doing just fine and living a happy life under the rule of Carnival, but they are also in the minority of that opinion. As a type A personality that lives by the rules, I definitely find myself siding with the wives. While they do follow they rules, however, they still have fun and bring Carnival into Lent. Even if they never truly consider breaking their oaths and social obligations, they devise the entire plot to mess with Falstaff and even get their husbands and friends involved against him. In a strange sort of reversal, Lent uses the tricks of Carnival to bring Carnival to an end. They prove that while we will probably always live in a Lenr society, it doesn’t mean that you can never engage in Carnival.
I find myself siding with Alice a lot here! I think that there can be people who live in Carnival all the time, but society couldn’t sustain itself without Lent afterwards (someone at least has to grow the food and make the sack!) If there truly were complete abundance, with rivers of broth and meat flowing freely, I think there definitely could be more freedom in day to day life. In some ways (but certainly not all) I’ve found myself in carnival now (especially during the 50 days of Easter we’re currently in!), with many more days of little to no work, or the only obligation being to watch Merry Wives or read in the sunshine. The less work there is, the more people will turn to carnivalesque pursuits.
I also side with the wives on this one. Even if our society did not look down upon sleeping with married women, the attitude Falstaff has towards them is rather disrespectful to me. I think the most carnivalesque thing would be to be upfront with both about his attraction, but he still obviously knows that pursuing both at the same time is hurtful/disrespectful to each and tries to hide it. Especially when he is hiding in the basket for the first time, he says something like “I love you alone” to Mistress Paige but clearly was also there for Mistress Ford. If he said “I love you equally” I think I’d be less “offended” (not the right word, but not sure what a better one would be.) Falstaff should have been more honest in his multiple cases of adultery (hmm.)
This was a really interesting conversation! I agree that it would be difficult for everyone to live under Carnival for a long period of time and although some individuals would be fine with it (ie Falstaff and friends), society would have a really hard time sustaining itself. Hannah’s comment made me think of how much society relies on farmers, essential workers to make the world turn. However Carnival cannot exist if so many of us are reliant on the labor of others in order tom produce the abundance that we want.
I have to agree with you guys and I also think that while Falstaff is the most overt example of the Carnivalesque in this text/production, he also embodies the more grotesque quality of carnival. The Wives’ trickery was something I enjoyed (as did they) and I would also consider it to venture into the realm of carnival. Their laughter may be directed at Falstaff’s misfortune, but it also has a way of uniting a larger group in the husbands and friends. They may lean toward Lent with their everyday antics, but Fallstaff’s carnivalesque nature seems to be infectious and leads them to the lighter, more innocent side of carnival.
I like the idea that the women are Lenten but still bring Carnival with them. I feel it would be wrong to say they are simply Lent, since throughout the play they are clearly enjoying themselves and I certainly enjoyed myself with them.
I think that while Lent always wins, we can bring the Carnival into Lent in the way the women did and enjoy ourselves that way. Since we do not have the huge abundance as a society we would need to have no one ever work or do anything, this is the best we can do. I also think in some ways that is better. As we’ve brought up a lot, the idea of the crazy Carnival all the time is off putting to a lot of us. But this form of Carnivaly Lent is much more appealing.
I definitely agree with this point that our society and lives aren’t able to sustain constant Carnival. We don’t live in a world of abundance that makes carnival possible, and I feel like true carnival can only exist in a utopia. The Shakespeare that we’ve read supports this. The dynamic between Falstaff and Hal in Henry IV, and the dynamic between Falstaff and the wives in this play shows the struggle between Carnival and Lent, where Lent ultimately wins.
I also like the point that carnival and Lent aren’t mutually exclusive. Although the wives are more contained and follow the rules, they are able to bring carnival into their lives and have some fun at Falstaff’s expense.
This conflict between Falstaff and the merry wives seems interesting to me because it shows the influence and unbreakableness of Carnival. Although the merry wives trap and punish Falstaff successfully, the method they use actually comes from Falstaff’s Carnival, and they will not succeed in the end by pure justice and morality. It is clear through the plans of the merry wives that Lent can indeed win Carnival, but Lent cannot influence Carnival. We are told at the beginning by the merry wives that law and morality cannot punish Falstaff, and Falstaff himself proves that it is impossible for him to go from the side of Carnival to Lent. Moreover, I feel like Lent is not capable of posing a threat to Carnival. I’ve been thinking about the reason why Falstaff finally admits the disrespectful deed; he does not seem to really regret or reflect on his actions, and his confession is more like a disappointment based on the unfulfilled desire. In this case, Lent can neither threaten Falstaff’s Carnival nor restrain him from insulting other women; the only thing he learns is the risk of insulting Mistress Page and Mistress Ford.
(It’s really hard for me to pick a side because most of the characters seem somewhat problematic to me. And almost everyone has selfish motives and aggressive language or behavior. ）
I think one of the most interesting and strange things about this play is the contest of Falstaff’s defeat. He’s ruthlessly pranked in the woods by noblemen and children in fairy constumes, then everyone is like “baaahhh, water under the bridge, let’s go have dinner!” This resolution, though of course Shakespearean comedies always end with a wedding and happy ending, gestures as the carnivalesque pretty unambiguously to me. Though Falstaff, champion though he may be of the grotesque and far removed in this regard from the rest of the ensemble, is symbolically Carnival in more obvious ways, his *defeat* still culminates in a wedding party. I’m not sure what to make of this, exactly, except to say that the rule-followers might overlap with carnival topsy-turviness sometimes, or at least that these rule followers do. The issue recalls the line: “Wives may be merry, and yet honest too” (4.2). I wonder if Lent is really the right word to describe the the wives, who obviously don’t take themselves or the situation very seriously at all. I would identify the serious more with Master Paige than anyone else, and, if that identification holds true, Lent is more defeated than Carnival by the end. The grotesque gets more short-shrifted by the narrative than the carnivalesque does if we identify the wives with the carnival, anti-serious aspect. Taking a meta-step back from the action, *everyone* on stage is fooling around for the enjoyment of the audience. As I watched the filmed version, I often thought to myself about the acting– boy, that looks fun to do. If the audience goes home and has a big dinner, I think, despite Falstaff being MERCILESSLY tricked in the woods, Carnival walks away unbesmirched.