INTRODUCTION 9 potentially beneficial consequences comes out sounding faintly-or blatantly-self-serving:I will reveal the Romantic dispensation as in itself it really is,the scales will fall from Shakespearean eyes,and the truth will make us free.This is the lone voice crying in the wilderness,and it won't do. Quite apart from self-aggrandizement(do I really think my rhetorical or critical powers are sufficient to lead the children of Shakespeare into the promised land?),this agenda stands in direct contradiction to my earlier claim about the subordination of reason to will.It assumes that the truth makes us free,that freedom follows truth as the night the day.This is what Hamlet supposes in his exhortation to the ghost- "Haste me to know't,that I with wings as swift As meditation,or the thoughts of love,May sweep to my revenge"(1.5.29-31)-but events prove otherwise.Distracted with contrary desires,meditation, and love on the one hand,revenge on the other,Hamlet's conviction that knowledge leads directly to the liberating release of expressive action turns out to be wildly optimistic. From this perspective(comparing small things to great),the thera- peutic project I announced for this book needs to be treated with more than a grain of salt.If it is will that is driving the apparatus,then the reason Shakespeareans have abandoned Romantic values is not that they do not understand them;rather,the misunderstanding derives from a loss of conviction.The misrecognition of Romantic Shakespeare would then be not the cause of our malaise,but the effect;and if this is the case,the consequences of historical and critical analysis are bound to be substantially limited.A close look at the values underwriting Romantics engagements with Shakespeare should be of some inter- est in itself.So too should be a close look at the current situation for an inkling of how it feels to be operating with a less-than-adequately secure belief in the purpose of the operation.Putting the two together, moreover,is likely to make some things happen,but exactly what those things are is hard to determine,and there does not seem to be much basis to expect that the juxtaposition will produce immediately benefi- cial effects on the large scale I proclaimed a moment ago.That"large discourse,/Looking before and after"(4.4.36-7),is not likely to trans- form malaise into a situation characterized by energetic desire. The skeptical position outlined here is fleshed out in chapter 1. Focused on arguments designed to recuperate aesthetics for the cen- ter of critical practice,it offers an object lesson in the inability of the analytical intellect to produce its hoped-for effects.But if this were the whole story,I cannot imagine how I could have sustained the effort to write this book and,more to the point,how I can be asking anyone to
Introduction 9 potentially beneficial consequences comes out sounding faintly—or blatantly—self-serving: I will reveal the Romantic dispensation as in itself it really is, the scales will fall from Shakespearean eyes, and the truth will make us free. This is the lone voice crying in the wilderness, and it won’t do. Quite apart from self-aggrandizement (do I really think my rhetorical or critical powers are sufficient to lead the children of Shakespeare into the promised land?), this agenda stands in direct contradiction to my earlier claim about the subordination of reason to will. It assumes that the truth makes us free, that freedom follows truth as the night the day. This is what Hamlet supposes in his exhortation to the ghost— “Haste me to know’t, that I with wings as swift / As meditation, or the thoughts of love, / May sweep to my revenge” (1.5.29–31)—but events prove otherwise. Distracted with contrary desires, meditation, and love on the one hand, revenge on the other, Hamlet’s conviction that knowledge leads directly to the liberating release of expressive action turns out to be wildly optimistic. From this perspective (comparing small things to great), the therapeutic project I announced for this book needs to be treated with more than a grain of salt. If it is will that is driving the apparatus, then the reason Shakespeareans have abandoned Romantic values is not that they do not understand them; rather, the misunderstanding derives from a loss of conviction. The misrecognition of Romantic Shakespeare would then be not the cause of our malaise, but the effect; and if this is the case, the consequences of historical and critical analysis are bound to be substantially limited. A close look at the values underwriting Romantics engagements with Shakespeare should be of some interest in itself. So too should be a close look at the current situation for an inkling of how it feels to be operating with a less-than-adequately secure belief in the purpose of the operation. Putting the two together, moreover, is likely to make some things happen, but exactly what those things are is hard to determine, and there does not seem to be much basis to expect that the juxtaposition will produce immediately beneficial effects on the large scale I proclaimed a moment ago. That “large discourse, / Looking before and after” (4.4.36–7), is not likely to transform malaise into a situation characterized by energetic desire. The skeptical position outlined here is fleshed out in chapter 1. Focused on arguments designed to recuperate aesthetics for the center of critical practice, it offers an object lesson in the inability of the analytical intellect to produce its hoped-for effects. But if this were the whole story, I cannot imagine how I could have sustained the effort to write this book and, more to the point, how I can be asking anyone to
10 Shakespeare Studies Today sustain the effort to read it.It isn't the whole story,however;for one thing,the situation is less stark than what I have described.Despite sometimes sounding like the voice crying in the wilderness,I have plenty of company on the present scene,whose work stands in one way or another behind many of the arguments of this book.The so-far- unnamed“critical mass'”of“discomfited”Shakespeareans referred to earlier are part of this picture.If less than wholly successful in effecting a return to aesthetics,they offer testimony of at least a desire to do so. Part of the picture,too,are the various critical eminences(including,in addition to Greenblatt,John Guillory,Lukas Erne,and Harold Bloom) from whom I have shamelessly looted ideas in the following pages;and although none of these might wish to be associated with Shakespeare Studies Today or,for that matter,with any of the others on the list,they all represent versions of a remediating argument from which I have been able to derive encouragement.And finally,some otherwise unac- knowledged presences deserve mention in the many Shakespeareans who have contributed to what looks like a resurgence of interest in character as a legitimate focus of critical attention.As I argued earlier, character is central to the Romantic invention of Shakespeare stud- ies,and its reemergence in current work suggests a new willingness (conscious or not)to embrace the Romantic values described in this book.1 In short,despite all the hedging about with ironic skepticism,I still stand behind the agenda italicized on the top of the preceding page: the time is out of joint for Shakespeareans,and a fresh look at the crit- ics who established the foundation for our practice might at least help to set it right.To be sure,the ironic skepticism stands too,if less tall, and in this context,especially with all the Hamlet echoes resonating around us,I should confess that the working title I used while putting this book together was "Shakespeare Studies and the Distractions of Contrary Desire."The phrase,which I deployed earlier to describe the ghost's effect on Hamlet,is lifted from Dr.Johnson,who said of “To be or not to be'”that it comes“bursting from a man distracted with contrariety of desires"(Sherbo,8,p.981).Dr.Johnson was pick- ing up on Hamlet's tremendous pun in"this distracted Globe."The Oxford English Dictionary(OED)takes"distracted"in Hamlet's speech to mean"much confused or troubled in mind;having,or showing, great mental disturbance or perplexity"(OED 4);but for the audience of a play obsessed with ideas of lunacy,real or imagined,the meaning of"deranged in mind;out of one's wits;crazed,mad,insane,"must be present as well(OED 5).It is chiefly the high anxiety suggested by
10 Shakespeare Studies Today sustain the effort to read it. It isn’t the whole story, however; for one thing, the situation is less stark than what I have described. Despite sometimes sounding like the voice crying in the wilderness, I have plenty of company on the present scene, whose work stands in one way or another behind many of the arguments of this book. The so-farunnamed “critical mass” of “discomfited” Shakespeareans referred to earlier are part of this picture. If less than wholly successful in effecting a return to aesthetics, they offer testimony of at least a desire to do so. Part of the picture, too, are the various critical eminences (including, in addition to Greenblatt, John Guillory, Lukas Erne, and Harold Bloom) from whom I have shamelessly looted ideas in the following pages; and although none of these might wish to be associated with Shakespeare Studies Today or, for that matter, with any of the others on the list, they all represent versions of a remediating argument from which I have been able to derive encouragement. And finally, some otherwise unacknowledged presences deserve mention in the many Shakespeareans who have contributed to what looks like a resurgence of interest in character as a legitimate focus of critical attention. As I argued earlier, character is central to the Romantic invention of Shakespeare studies, and its reemergence in current work suggests a new willingness (conscious or not) to embrace the Romantic values described in this book. 1 In short, despite all the hedging about with ironic skepticism, I still stand behind the agenda italicized on the top of the preceding page: the time is out of joint for Shakespeareans, and a fresh look at the critics who established the foundation for our practice might at least help to set it right. To be sure, the ironic skepticism stands too, if less tall, and in this context, especially with all the Hamlet echoes resonating around us, I should confess that the working title I used while putting this book together was “Shakespeare Studies and the Distractions of Contrary Desire.” The phrase, which I deployed earlier to describe the ghost’s effect on Hamlet, is lifted from Dr. Johnson, who said of “To be or not to be” that it comes “bursting from a man distracted with contrariety of desires” (Sherbo, 8, p. 981). Dr. Johnson was picking up on Hamlet’s tremendous pun in “this distracted Globe.” The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) takes “distracted” in Hamlet’s speech to mean “much confused or troubled in mind; having, or showing, great mental disturbance or perplexity” (OED 4); but for the audience of a play obsessed with ideas of lunacy, real or imagined, the meaning of “deranged in mind; out of one’s wits; crazed, mad, insane,” must be present as well (OED 5). It is chiefly the high anxiety suggested by
INTRODUCTION 11 these implications that led me finally to drop Dr.Johnson's phrase.The enfeebled will described in this book may be frustrating,but it is not maddening.It might drive us to thoughts of switching fields(though where would we go in literary studies that is not characterized by a similar torpor?),or even of early retirement,but not suicide.Our situa- tion is closer to comedy than to tragedy("distraction"as"diversion"or "relaxation";see OED 2a)and closer still to history,in the sense that it offers no definitive sense of an ending,happy or otherwise. If we find ourselves at an impasse,we are not paralyzed like Beckett's Hamm and Clov;we have what might be called sustainable nongrowth. There may be no way to escape from the general situation,but there are lots of particular things to do inside it.It would be convenient to have a more secure conviction about the value of our practice,but there are still lots of ways to get on with it;and even lacking the sure and certain knowledge that any of these ways is moving the enterprise forward,we continue to have our preferences and an abundant repertoire of argu- ments to advance in their support.My reliance on Edward Said in this Introduction should suggest as much,and the Conclusion,returning to the claims of practical criticism,aims to reinforce the idea that we have at least as much reason to celebrate the critical possibilities we have than to console ourselves for those we don't
Introduction 11 these implications that led me finally to drop Dr. Johnson’s phrase. The enfeebled will described in this book may be frustrating, but it is not maddening. It might drive us to thoughts of switching fields (though where would we go in literary studies that is not characterized by a similar torpor?), or even of early retirement, but not suicide. Our situation is closer to comedy than to tragedy (“distraction” as “diversion” or “relaxation”; see OED 2a) and closer still to history, in the sense that it offers no definitive sense of an ending, happy or otherwise. If we find ourselves at an impasse, we are not paralyzed like Beckett’s Hamm and Clov; we have what might be called sustainable nongrowth. There may be no way to escape from the general situation, but there are lots of particular things to do inside it. It would be convenient to have a more secure conviction about the value of our practice, but there are still lots of ways to get on with it; and even lacking the sure and certain knowledge that any of these ways is moving the enterprise forward, we continue to have our preferences and an abundant repertoire of arguments to advance in their support. My reliance on Edward Said in this Introduction should suggest as much, and the Conclusion, returning to the claims of practical criticism, aims to reinforce the idea that we have at least as much reason to celebrate the critical possibilities we have than to console ourselves for those we don’t
PART ONE Discipline and Desire
PART ONE Discipline and Desire
Introduction:Discipline and Desire My title may evoke the wrong kind of images."Discipline"refers to the critical practices and assumptions associated with academic special- ization,in particular the kind undertaken by the members of English departments and,more particularly still,by the Shakespeareans inhabit- ing these(and sometimes theater)departments.The word has no direct connection with inflicting or receiving pain,and any indirect connec- tion,while perhaps interesting to think about,does not concern me here.I am concerned,rather,with the interactions between discipline and desire as Michel Foucault described them in a number of seminal works published thirty years or so ago.By describing power as produc- tive rather than repressive,Foucault reconfigured the relation between discipline and desire from the antithetical forces they were normally taken to be into reinforcing and even mutually constitutive phenomena. From this angle,desire is inevitably involved with the kinds and forms of knowledge by which disciplinary formations not only regulate and define (and therefore limit)but generate and proliferate our affective interests.As Clifford Siskin puts it,"desire is inherently disciplinary" (Historicity,p.152).The claim is reversible:"academic and scientific dis- course,"as George Dillon argues,"is woven out of human actions and is as rooted in human desire as a love letter or a legal complaint"(p.2). Nonetheless,the standard accounts of academic work continue to emphasize its analytical foundations.When Guy and Small try to explain why“English studies'”is“a discipline in crisis,”they locate the prob- lem in a cognitive rather than an affective domain.Any "discipline of knowledge,"they argue in Politics and Value in English Studies,requires agreement on“three constituent elements'”-a subject(“the object of study"),a method (the "practices used"),and "a theory"to explain the discipline's underlying principles and provide an"explicit elaboration"of "the appropriateness and utility of the explanation."It's the first that mat- ters most,they claim,the subject,for"if there is no agreement...about
Introd ld uction: Discipline and Desire My title may evoke the wrong kind of images. “Discipline” refers to the critical practices and assumptions associated with academic specialization, in particular the kind undertaken by the members of English departments and, more particularly still, by the Shakespeareans inhabiting these (and sometimes theater) departments. The word has no direct connection with inflicting or receiving pain, and any indirect connection, while perhaps interesting to think about, does not concern me here. I am concerned, rather, with the interactions between discipline and desire as Michel Foucault described them in a number of seminal works published thirty years or so ago. By describing power as productive rather than repressive, Foucault reconfigured the relation between discipline and desire from the antithetical forces they were normally taken to be into reinforcing and even mutually constitutive phenomena. From this angle, desire is inevitably involved with the kinds and forms of knowledge by which disciplinary formations not only regulate and define (and therefore limit) but generate and proliferate our affective interests. As Clifford Siskin puts it, “desire is inherently disciplinary” (Historicity, p. 152). The claim is reversible: “academic and scientific discourse,” as George Dillon argues, “is woven out of human actions and is as rooted in human desire as a love letter or a legal complaint” (p. 2). Nonetheless, the standard accounts of academic work continue to emphasize its analytical foundations. When Guy and Small try to explain why “English studies” is “a discipline in crisis,” they locate the problem in a cognitive rather than an affective domain. Any “discipline of knowledge,” they argue in Politics and Value in English Studies, requires agreement on “three constituent elements”—a subject (“the object of study”), a method (the “practices used”), and “a theory” to explain the discipline’s underlying principles and provide an “explicit elaboration” of “the appropriateness and utility of the explanation.” It’s the first that matters most, they claim, the subject, for “if there is no agreement . . . about ters most, they claim, the subject, for “if there is no agreement . . . about