Monday, 29 September 2025

“The Letter Killeth: Desire, Law, and Existential Struggle in Jude the Obscure”

This blog is written as a task given by Prof. and Dr. Dilip Barad Sir, Head of the Department of English (MKBU).


Introduction




Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure (1895) is one of the most unsettling and deeply thought-provoking novels in English literature. Hardy gives us not just a story of a stonemason who dreams of becoming a scholar but also a philosophical meditation on law, desire, religion, and the human search for meaning. The epigraphs with which Hardy frames his novel are crucial to unlocking these themes. They connect Jude’s personal struggles with broader cultural, biblical, and even mythological frameworks.


Activity 1: “The letter killeth”




Hardy’s striking epigraph, “The letter killeth” (2 Corinthians 3:6), sets the stage for the novel’s critique of rigid institutions. In its biblical context, Paul contrasts “the letter” (the written law) with “the spirit” that gives life. Hardy uses this idea to dramatize the suffocating effects of Victorian laws and dogmas on human freedom.

For Jude, institutions like the Church, the university, and marriage are all governed by the “letter.” He dreams of Christminster (Oxford), believing education will liberate him, yet the rigid gatekeeping of class and tradition denies him entry. His marriage to Arabella, contracted under social and religious expectations, becomes a trap rather than a union of love. Even his relationship with Sue Bridehead, which defies convention, is crushed by the “letter” of social and religious morality.

In this sense, the “letter” is more than just text—it is law, dogma, and textual authority that suffocates human desire. Hardy contrasts this with the “spirit” of compassion, intellectual freedom, and authentic love. Sue embodies this spirit when she rejects marriage and questions traditional morality. Yet, tragically, even she succumbs to institutional guilt after the death of her children. Hardy’s epigraph reminds us that when law is divorced from compassion, it becomes destructive—a message that resonates even today.


Activity 2: Esdras and the Myth of Bhasmasur

The second epigraph, from Esdras, foregrounds the power of desire:

> “Many there be that have run out of their wits for women, and become servants for their sakes… Many also have perished, have erred, and sinned, for women.”

At first glance, this seems like a misogynistic warning that women are the downfall of men. Jude’s relationships with Arabella and Sue certainly appear to illustrate this: Arabella entraps him into marriage through seduction and deceit, while Sue’s intellectual and spiritual restlessness pulls him into unstable, tragic love. But Hardy’s tone is ironic. He is less interested in blaming women than in exposing a society that turns natural passion into sin through rigid rules.

Here, the Hindu myth of Bhasmasur offers a powerful comparison. Bhasmasur, granted the power to reduce anyone to ashes with his touch, becomes so consumed by desire that he destroys himself. Jude’s passion is similarly self-destructive. His longing for Sue and for intellectual achievement blinds him, making him vulnerable to the very institutions he seeks to escape. Like Bhasmasur, Jude’s downfall is not simply the result of external oppression but also of his own relentless obsession.




So, does Hardy blame desire itself? Not exactly. Rather, he critiques a culture that weaponizes desire, turning it into guilt and punishment. Where passion could bring fulfillment, society transforms it into shame and ruin. Hardy’s irony toward the Esdras epigraph suggests that it is not women or desire that destroy men, but the rigid codes that define and condemn them.


Activity 3: Hardy’s “Immoral” Novel and Modern Existentialism




When Jude the Obscure was first published, it was attacked as “immoral” and “pessimistic.” Yet, with hindsight, it seems less destructive than prophetic. Hardy anticipates modern existential concerns—questions of identity, belonging, and meaning in an indifferent universe.

Jude’s tragedy is not only social but existential. He searches for belonging in the Church, in academia, and in love, yet each collapses under the weight of institutional hypocrisy or human frailty. His alienation mirrors Kierkegaard’s “sickness unto death,” Camus’s absurd hero, and Sartre’s struggle with freedom and bad faith. Hardy portrays a world where human longing collides with an unresponsive universe, and where meaning must be sought but cannot be guaranteed.

Reading Jude the Obscure this way, the novel becomes more than a critique of Victorian marriage laws or religious dogma. It is a proto-existential novel that asks timeless questions: What gives life meaning? How can one pursue freedom when institutions, desire, and mortality constantly undermine it? Hardy does not provide answers, but by dramatizing Jude’s struggle, he anticipates the dilemmas of the twentieth century.


Conclusion

Hardy’s Jude the Obscure is not simply a tale of personal misfortune. Through its epigraphs and narrative, it challenges us to reflect on the suffocating power of law (“the letter killeth”), the ambivalence of desire (as in Esdras and the myth of Bhasmasur), and the existential loneliness of modern life. Far from being only “immoral” or “pessimistic,” the novel is prophetic, echoing with questions that would later preoccupy philosophers like Kierkegaard, Camus, and Sartre.

In the end, Jude’s tragedy lies not just in social oppression or personal weakness, but in the universal human condition: the endless striving for knowledge, love, and meaning in a world that offers no guarantees. And it is this haunting resonance that makes Hardy’s novel as relevant today as it was scandalous in his own time.

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Friday, 26 September 2025

Jonathan Swift’s A Tale of a Tub: Allegory, Satire, and a Sharp Pen


This Blog task was assigned by prakruti Ma'am (Department of English, MKBU) For further Details Click here


Introduction




Jonathan Swift’s A Tale of a Tub is one of the more challenging—and rewarding—works in early eighteenth-century English prose. It is dense, digressive, full of irony, parody, and shifting personae. But at its core the work brings together three overlapping aims: a religious allegory, a critique of contemporary writers and critics, and a satirical assault on the reading habits of his audience. In what follows I examine how Swift accomplishes those aims, and then reflect on his style, particularly in light of the remark: “There is no contemporary who impresses one more by his marked sincerity and concentrated passion (than Swift).”





1. A Tale of a Tub as Religious Allegory

At the heart of A Tale of a Tub lies an allegory: the story of three brothers, Peter, Martin, and Jack, who inherit coats from their father and a Will that instructs them never to alter the coats. The Will can be read as an analogue of Scripture (or divine ordinance); the coats represent modes of worship, doctrine, religious practice; and the successive violations of the Will—by adding ornaments, trimming edges, embroidering, cutting off parts, etc.—stand for the corruptions, innovations, and misinterpretations imposed upon Christian worship over time.

Peter is usually taken to represent Roman Catholicism, with its heavy liturgical ornaments, sacerdotal excess, and claims to authority.

Jack stands for dissenters or extreme Puritan sects, who often break away and claim a more “pure” Christianity, but in Swift’s view descend into absurdities.

Martin, the middle brother, is often read as Anglicanism—the via media, trying to steer a moderate course between extremes.

The father’s injunction against altering the coats is the command to preserve the original form of true religion; the brothers’ repeated reinterpretations and innovations reflect how institutions twist and misread the sacred text.

Through the allegory, Swift warns of what happens when doctrine or practice departs from the Will (i.e. the original divine command), and shows how both extremes—over-ornamentation and over-purification—are dangers. The allegory thus invites readers to look beneath surface appearances (the changing garments) to the original norm that has been corrupted.

However, Swift’s allegory is not entirely stable or univocal. The digressions and his satirical voice undermine easy reading of the allegory: the allegory itself is subjected to parody and contradiction. The shifting personae, the interruptions, and the narrator’s self-conscious irony make it difficult to assert a single “correct” interpretation. Some readers of Swift’s time (and afterwards) even accused him of attacking religion wholesale, precisely because the allegory is so unstable. Many modern critics stress that Swift uses parody and satire to undermine simplistic readings of the allegory, making it more ambiguous than a straightforward moral fable.

Thus, although A Tale of a Tub is often (and plausibly) classed as a religious allegory (with the coats/Will scheme), Swift complicates that allegory through his digressions, shifting voices, and inverse satire, refusing to let the allegory dominate uncritically.





2. Swift’s Critique of Contemporary Writers, Practices, and Critics

(Chapters: 1, 3, 5, 7, 10, 12)


Beyond the central allegory, Swift uses the digressions and asides to lance at the literary and critical culture of his day. Here is a thematic survey of how Swift critiques the writers, critics, and literary practices of his time (with reference to the chapters you mention):

Target How Swift Critiques It Examples / Observations from Chapters

Blind reverence for novelty / the cult of the “new” Swift satirizes writers who pursue novelty simply for its own sake, rejecting memory, tradition, or historical continuity. He scorns the idea that “new” is automatically better than “ancient.” In Ch. 1, the narrator reflects how the learned in the age deal entirely in invention and forget memory: “Memory being an employment … for which the learned in our illustrious age have no manner of occasion…” (i.e. modern scholars disdain what is past)
Overly obscure or allegorical reading / overinterpretation Swift derides critics who see (or force) hidden meanings everywhere, who turn texts into riddles or puzzles. He mocks commentators who treat every word as an allegory or cipher. In Ch. 10 (often called the “Digression on Madness”), he satirizes those readers who suppose hidden senses, spiritual operations, mystical readings. The narrator speaks ironically of interpreting “mechanically” the spiritual or seeing spiritual implications in the physical.
Pedantic scholarship, excessive notes, indexes, footnotes Swift attacks the mania for commentary, annotation, glossing, and the idea that a text is meaningless unless explained. He also satirizes the scholars who fill books with apparatus (indexes, notes, catalogues) rather than substance. In Ch. 5 and Ch. 7, the narrator digresses into cataloguing digressions, employing parenthetical asides, typographical devices, and mock apparatus to parody the scholarly apparatus culture. The multiplicity of footnotes, the desire for commentary, the mania for marginalia are all satirized.
Superficial imitation & plagiarism / lack of originality Swift derides authors who merely imitate popular styles, borrow from others, or produce derivative works without depth. In Ch. 3 he parodies authors who unthinkingly imitate the fashions of the day. He ridicules writers who pad their works with bulk to look important. Also, Swift engages (in Battle of the Books) with the quarrel of the Ancients and the Moderns, mocking those who believe modern innovation always trumps classical excellence.
 
Critics / interpreters who mislead or distort Swift ridicules critics who misrepresent authors, explain texts unwarrantedly, or claim authority to “fix” meanings. He even uses the notes in his own 1710 edition to incorporate Wotton’s attack as part of the apparatus. In Ch. 12, Swift’s narrator ironically includes notes and marginalia that mislead or parody the critical apparatus. Also, the act of “explaining” the Tale by critics (e.g. Wotton) becomes itself fodder for Swift’s satire.

Swift’s broader project is not merely to lampoon individual authors, but to criticize the entire mental habit of turning texts into puzzles, of overvaluing novelty, and of mistaking commentary for meaning. His digressions typically take the form of mock-serious “literary theory” or pseudo-erudition, thus making the reader laugh and think.

Another dimension: Swift uses parody of prevailing literary forms (dedications, preludes, prefaces, indexes) to mock the excesses of literary commerce—how authors padded, prefaced, dedicated, and used verbiage to inflate status. He also accuses critics of being “indexers, note-makers, and people who see dark matter in books”—that is, those obsessed with hidden sense rather than straightforward meaning.

Thus, through the fictional narrator’s digressions and ironic asides, Swift turns the very tools of scholarship and criticism into objects of ridicule, exposing how they can obscure rather than illuminate.


3. Satire of the Reading Habits of His Audience


(With reference to the Preface, Ch. 1, Ch. 10, Ch. 11 & Ch. 12)

Swift does not only target authors and critics; he also mocks readers—particularly those who read superficially, credulously, pedantically, or with false expectations. Below are key ways in which Swift satirizes reading habits, drawing on those sections you listed:

Preface / Prolegomena: Right at the start, Swift sets up his persona as a “decoy” (the “tub” thrown to distract the whale), suggesting that readers who jump to conclusions will be misled. The very conceit of the preface warns that the work will trick or provoke those who read carelessly. He invites skeptical reading from the start.


Ch. 1: The narrator remarks that “memory” is undervalued by modern scholars; the idea that readers do not pause to remember context, traditions, the past, but only chase innovations. This is a critique of readers who swallow the latest fad without historical awareness.

Ch. 10 (“Digression on Madness”): Perhaps the most famous digression, Swift mocks readers who see hidden meanings, who interpret everything as allegory or mystical sense. He ridicules the parsing of every phrase into secret spiritual operations, the mania for mystical interpretation, inner light, and the mechanical interpretation of spiritual meaning.

Ch. 11: In this section Swift satirizes readers who demand that every text must conform to their prejudices or desires for proof. The narrator warns against credulity and the eagerness to see what one wishes to see, rather than what is there.

Ch. 12: Here the notes and marginalia become part of the satire. The narrator includes commentary (sometimes intentionally false or misleading) and allows contradictory glosses, mocking the way readers rely too heavily on apparatus rather than the text itself. The multiplicity of explanatory notes, the conflicting readings, and the confusion they generate are a direct lampoon of scholarly readers who treat the text as a mine for hidden meaning.


Through this machinery, Swift compels the reader to be suspicious of facile interpretations, to resist the impulse to over-interpret, and to see how reading itself can become a folly when it is unreflective, hyper-literal, or credulous.


4. “No contemporary who impresses one more by his marked sincerity and concentrated passion.”

— Swift’s Style in Light of This Remark


That remark suggests that behind Swift’s irony and satire, there is an earnest intensity, a seriousness of conviction. Is that borne out in A Tale of a Tub? I think yes—though not in the way a naive, straightforward author might be sincere. Swift’s sincerity is embedded within his irony; his “concentrated passion” is channeled through relentless wit.

Here is how I see it:

1. Passionate moral concern under girds the satire

Though Swift never preaches in a heavy-handed manner, his persistent concern for religious truth, for preventing corruption of doctrine, and for warning readers against folly, suggests a moral seriousness underlie the satire. The fact that he is willing to risk misinterpretation and personal scandal (he kept his authorship secret) shows that he cared deeply about the issues.

2. Sincerity through voice complexity

Swift does not adopt a single voice of detachment; the narrator appears to waver, to intervene, to disclaim knowledge, to feign ignorance, to deploy irony. But these shifts themselves suggest a careful, concentrated control over tone; he is not glib but strategic. His satire is not scattershot, but calibrated. The sincerity is the sense that his irony aims at something real, not mere mockery.

3. Intensity of imagination
Swift’s imaginative energy—his capacity to layer digressions, to build parodic asides, to sustain allegory while turning it on its head—gives the piece a coherence and force that feels passionate. He does not lightly toss off jokes; his humor is rigorous, often dark, and unrelenting.

4. Ambiguity as part of sincerity

Because Swift refuses to offer neat solutions, readers sometimes chafe at the ambiguity. But that very refusal seems sincere: he seems to believe (or wants us to believe) that many outrages and follies cannot be tidily resolved, that errors are recursive, that reading, interpretation, and religious life are messy. His sincerity lies in complexity rather than clarity.

So, the remark can be justified: Swift’s style combines irony, linguistic finesse, parody, and narrative complexity, but these are not mere ornaments—they are expressions of a passionate engagement with the moral, religious, and intellectual life of his age.





Concluding Thoughts and Tips for Readers

In writing this as a blog post, I’d suggest you begin with a striking hook (for example, Swift’s claim about the “tub” as a decoy), then weave through allegory, critique, satire of reading, and finally style. You may want to pick a few potent quotations (especially from the Will, from the Digression on Madness, and from the narrator’s preface) to illustrate these points.

One caveat: A Tale of a Tub is notoriously difficult. Many contemporaries misunderstood it; the mix of allegory and parody confounds simple readings. So in your blog you might warn readers that their first reading may mislead them—and that becoming sensitive to the satire requires patience and skepticism.

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Frankenstein: A Tale of Science, Monsters, and Humanity

This Blog task was assigned by Megha Ma'am (Department of English, MKBU)


Introduction 

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is more than just a horror story. It is a novel full of questions about life, science, morality, and human nature. Written in 1818, it is still important today because the themes of ambition, responsibility, and compassion are timeless. Many people only know Frankenstein through movies, but the original novel is very different. In this blog, I will explore some important questions: How do the novel and movies differ? Who is the real monster? Is knowledge dangerous? Was the creature evil by nature? And finally, should there be limits on science? Let’s look at these one by one.




1. Major Differences Between the Movie and the Novel

Most people first meet Frankenstein through movies, not Mary Shelley’s book. However, the novel and the films are very different.

In the novel, Victor Frankenstein is a serious young scientist who spends years studying natural philosophy, chemistry, and anatomy. He carefully collects body parts and finally creates life through a secret scientific process. Shelley never gives many details about how he does it, which makes it more mysterious.

In the movies, however, the creation scene is usually loud and dramatic. Lightning strikes, machines spark, and Victor shouts, “It’s alive!” These scenes are exciting but do not exist in the book.

Another big difference is the creature. In the novel, the creature is intelligent and emotional. He teaches himself to speak, read, and understand human feelings. He even admires books like Paradise Lost. In the movies, he is usually silent, with a stiff walk and a scarred face. This makes him seem like a scary monster, instead of a tragic figure.

So while the book is about responsibility, morality, and the dangers of ambition, the movies often focus only on horror.





2. Who is the Real Monster?


This is one of the biggest questions in the novel. At first glance, the answer seems simple—the creature looks terrifying, so he must be the monster. But when we look deeper, things change.

Victor creates life but immediately abandons his creation because of its appearance. He does not teach, guide, or love the creature. As a result, the creature feels lonely and unwanted. All he wanted was kindness and a family, but Victor denies him this chance.

The creature only becomes violent after being rejected again and again, not just by Victor but by everyone he meets. If society had shown him compassion, he might have lived peacefully.

So, who is the real monster? Many readers believe Victor is the true monster—not because of his appearance, but because of his selfish actions. His ambition and irresponsibility caused destruction, while the creature’s violence was born out of pain and rejection.



“Who is the real monster: Victor or his creation?”


3. Is the Search for Knowledge Dangerous?

Mary Shelley warns us about the dangers of uncontrolled ambition. Victor wanted to know everything, even secrets of life and death. His desire for knowledge blinded him to the consequences of his actions.

Knowledge itself is not dangerous—it is how we use it that matters. For example, medical knowledge saves lives, but weapons of mass destruction are also made through science. In Victor’s case, his search for knowledge brought suffering to himself, his family, and his creation.

This is why Shelley’s novel is still meaningful today. We are living in a world of artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and space exploration. These are amazing fields, but if not guided by wisdom and ethics, they can be destructive.


4. Was the Creature Inherently Evil?


The creature was not born evil. In fact, he began life with innocence and curiosity. When he saw humans for the first time, he wanted to help them. He secretly gathered wood for a poor family and admired their kindness. He even cried when reading emotional stories.

However, every time he tried to connect with humans, they rejected him because of his looks. They screamed, attacked him, and called him a monster. Even Victor, his own creator, abandoned him. This rejection slowly turned his heart bitter.

When he asked Victor to create a female companion, Victor refused. This made him feel even more alone, and in his pain, he chose revenge. His crimes were terrible, but they were shaped by how society treated him.

This shows us that people are not born monsters. Society, cruelty, and rejection can push them into becoming one.



creature sitting sadly in the forest, symbolizing loneliness.


5. Should There Be Limits on Scientific Exploration?

Yes, there should definitely be limits. Science is powerful, but without boundaries, it can destroy more than it creates. Victor’s story is a clear example—he created life but was not ready to take care of it.

Some possible limits include:

• Research should not harm humans,   animals, or the environment.

• Scientists should consider moral and social consequences before experiments.

• Discoveries should be used for the benefit of all, not just personal fame.

For example, nuclear power can provide clean energy, but it can also be used to make bombs. Similarly, artificial intelligence can help in medicine but can also cause job loss and ethical issues. Science should always respect human dignity and nature.






Conclusion

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is not just a spooky story about a man-made monster. It is a deep warning about ambition, responsibility, and humanity. The differences between the movie and novel show how the story can be misunderstood. The question of who the real monster is reminds us that appearance is not everything—sometimes the real danger lies in human selfishness. The theme of dangerous knowledge warns us to use science wisely. The creature’s journey proves that rejection and cruelty can turn innocence into anger. And finally, the call for limits on science is still relevant today in our modern world of technology.Frankenstein reminds us that science must always be balanced with compassion and responsibility. Without kindness and wisdom, even the brightest discovery can turn into a nightmare.



 
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Monday, 15 September 2025

Wordsworth’s Preface to Lyrical Ballads: The Voice of Romanticism

This blog is written as a task given by Prof. and Dr. Dilip Barad Sir, Head of the Department of English (MKBU). For background reading, you can check his blogs: click here.


What is a Poet? Wordsworth’s Vision




William Wordsworth, one of the main poets of the Romantic Age, wanted to change how people understood poetry. In his essay Preface to Lyrical Ballads, he explained his ideas about poetry, language, and the role of the poet. He believed poetry should be simple, emotional, and close to nature. His thoughts about what poetry is, and who a poet is, are still very important in literature today.




Why Did Wordsworth Ask What is a Poet?

Wordsworth does not ask “Who is a poet?” but “What is a poet?” because he is not interested in just the identity of a person. Instead, he wants to understand the true nature of a poet. For him, a poet is not simply someone who writes verses but a person with a special role in society—someone who can feel deeply, express emotions, and reveal truths about life and human experience.


What is Poetic Diction?

Poetic diction means the kind of language a poet uses. In Wordsworth’s time, most poets used very decorative and complex language. Wordsworth criticized this. He argued that poetry should use the “language of ordinary men”—simple, clear, and natural words.
For him, poetry should sound like real life, not artificial or difficult. Simple words can still carry deep emotions and important truths. The poet’s task is to show beauty in common life, using language that everyone can understand.





Wordsworth’s Definition of Poetry

Wordsworth defined poetry as “the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.” This means poetry comes naturally from strong emotions felt deeply by the poet. It is not forced or overly planned—it flows out from genuine feelings. For Wordsworth, poetry is not just about rules or structure. It is about truth, emotion, and connection. A poet feels more strongly than others, and poetry becomes a way to share those emotions with everyone.





Wordsworth’s Poetic Beliefs

Wordsworth believed that poetry should be both simple and meaningful. The poet, he said, is “a man speaking to men.” This means the poet is not above ordinary people but one of them. At the same time, the poet is different because he feels more deeply, notices more carefully, and can express emotions better. The poet has a “greater soul,” meaning he understands human emotions in a deeper way than most people. Ordinary people may feel emotions, but the poet can explain them, connect them to nature, and make them meaningful to everyone.





Poetry and the Language of Men

Wordsworth strongly opposed the fake, fancy language used by poets of his time. He wanted poetry to be written in the everyday language of common people. This does not mean poetry should be dull. Instead, he believed that simple language can be powerful, beautiful, and full of meaning when used by a sensitive poet.


The Poet as a Teacher

For Wordsworth, the poet is like a guide or teacher of emotions. The poet can take everyday experiences—joy, sorrow, love, pain—and turn them into poetry that touches everyone’s heart. Poetry helps readers connect with their own feelings and with human life in general.


“The Spontaneous Overflow of Powerful Feelings”

This famous phrase from Wordsworth is the heart of his poetic theory. Poetry, he says, should come from strong emotions that naturally flow out. These feelings are often inspired by nature or life experiences.
This is what makes poetry alive and powerful—not rules or clever tricks, but real human emotions expressed with honesty.


Conclusion




Wordsworth changed the way people think about poetry. He wanted poetry to be simple, emotional, and close to nature, not artificial or complicated. For him, the poet is someone with a sensitive heart and a deeper soul, who speaks to all people in a language they understand. His idea that “poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings” has become one of the most famous definitions of poetry. Even today, Wordsworth reminds us that poetry is not just decoration of words but a way of truly connecting with human life and emotions.




 Refrence 










“Evaluating F. R. Leavis and J. B. Priestley on Hard Times”


This blog is written as a task assigned by the head of the Department of English (MKBU), Prof. and Dr. Dilip Barad Sir.Click here


On the question:

“Write your critical comment on the views of F. R. Leavis and J. B. Priestley on Dickens’ Hard Times. With whom do you agree? Why?”




Answer A (10 Marks – 370 words)

Introduction

Charles Dickens’ Hard Times (1854) has attracted varied critical opinions. Two of the most influential critics, F. R. Leavis and J. B. Priestley, have taken almost opposing views. Leavis regarded Hard Times as Dickens’s one serious novel of ideas, while Priestley found it one of Dickens’s least successful works. A balanced evaluation of their views allows us to assess the novel’s significance in the literary canon.


Leavis’s View

In The Great Tradition (1948), F. R. Leavis praises Hard Times for its sharp critique of utilitarianism, industrialism, and the dehumanising effects of a fact-driven education. According to him, Dickens, usually celebrated for his storytelling and comic characters, here achieves moral seriousness and intellectual depth. The character of Thomas Gradgrind exemplifies the dangers of reducing life to “facts” and neglecting imagination, emotion, and human sympathy. Leavis therefore treats Hard Times as Dickens’s most coherent and focused work, standing close to the “great tradition” of English fiction.


Priestley’s View

On the other hand, J. B. Priestley dismisses the novel as one of Dickens’s weakest. He argues that Hard Times suffers from its brevity, exaggerated characters, and melodramatic plot. For Priestley, the novel lacks the richness, humor, and narrative vitality usually found in Dickens’s masterpieces such as David Copperfield or Bleak House. Instead of subtlety, Hard Times offers caricatures, such as Gradgrind, Bounderby, and Slackbridge, who seem more like symbols than fully human figures.


Critical Comment

Both views have validity. Priestley is right in noting that the novel is short, schematic, and at times heavy-handed. The characters often represent types rather than individuals. Yet, Leavis’s insight into the novel’s thematic power cannot be ignored. Hard Times remains one of the earliest fictional critiques of industrial capitalism, education policies, and class oppression. Its symbolic quality gives it a timeless relevance, even if it lacks Dickens’s usual narrative expansiveness.


Conclusion

Between the two, Leavis’s view is more persuasive. Hard Times may not be Dickens’s most “enjoyable” novel, but it is arguably his most intellectually engaged work. Its social critique and moral vision outweigh its artistic limitations, making it a significant contribution to Victorian literature.


Answer B (5 Marks – 160 words)

Introduction:

Charles Dickens’s Hard Times (1854) is one of his shortest but most debated novels. Critics such as F. R. Leavis and J. B. Priestley gave sharply contrasting views on its value. Their arguments highlight both the strengths and weaknesses of the work.

Leavis’s View:

F. R. Leavis praised Hard Times as Dickens’s only serious novel of ideas. He admired its critique of utilitarian education, industrialisation, and the neglect of imagination. For him, characters like Gradgrind and Bounderby symbolise the dangers of a fact-based society that ignores human emotions and morality.


Priestley’s View:

In contrast, J. B. Priestley dismissed the novel as one of Dickens’s least successful works. He criticised its short length, melodramatic plot, and exaggerated characters, claiming it lacked the richness and vitality of Dickens’s longer novels.


Conclusion:

While Priestley rightly points out its limitations, I agree with Leavis. Hard Times may not be Dickens’s most entertaining novel, but its focused critique of Victorian society gives it lasting moral and social importance.


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John Keats as a Romantic Poet

This Blog task was assigned by Megha Ma'am (Department of English, MKBU)


Introduction

The Romantic Age in English literature (late 18th and early 19th century) was a period that celebrated feelings, imagination, and the beauty of nature. It was a reaction against the Enlightenment’s emphasis on reason, science, and logic. Instead of mechanical order, Romantic poets valued freedom of expression, the power of dreams, and the depth of emotions.

Among the poets of this period—Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley—John Keats (1795–1821) occupies a unique position. Although his life was tragically short, his contribution to poetry was extraordinary. He wrote with an intensity that captured the essence of Romanticism: love for beauty, deep imagination, sensuousness, and a touch of melancholy. Keats is often described as the “Poet of Beauty” and “Poet of Sensuousness.” His works reflect a pure devotion to art and beauty, untouched by politics or social reform.

This essay critically explores Keats as a Romantic poet by examining his love for nature, his sensuous style, his philosophy of beauty, his major odes, and his idea of “Negative Capability.”


Early Life of John Keats




John Keats was born in London on 31 October 1795 to a modest family. His father, Thomas Keats, worked as a manager of a livery stable, and his mother, Frances Jennings, came from a family of innkeepers. Keats’s childhood was marked by hardship and loss. His father died in a riding accident when Keats was only eight, and his mother died of tuberculosis a few years later.

After being orphaned, Keats and his siblings were left under the care of guardians. Financial struggles followed him throughout his life. Initially, Keats trained as a surgeon and apothecary, but his love for literature and poetry soon overpowered his medical career. He gave up medicine and devoted himself entirely to writing poetry.

Despite poverty, ill health, and criticism from reviewers who mocked his humble origins, Keats continued to write with passion and dedication. His personal sufferings—especially his battle with tuberculosis and the early deaths of family members—shaped his deep sense of melancholy and awareness of life’s fragility, which we see reflected in his poetry. His short life, full of struggle yet rich in creativity, made him a true Romantic figure.


Love for Nature

Like other Romantics, Keats saw nature as a source of inspiration and joy. However, unlike Wordsworth, who believed that nature teaches moral lessons, Keats admired nature mainly for its beauty and sensuous appeal. His poems often describe flowers, birds, seasons, and landscapes in vivid detail.

For example, in Ode to Autumn, Keats personifies the season as a gentle presence—sometimes a reaper, sometimes a winnower, sometimes a watcher of sunsets. He paints autumn in rich colors and sounds: the ripening fruit, buzzing bees, wailing gnats, and golden light. Unlike Shelley, who used nature to symbolize political change (as in Ode to the West Wind), Keats celebrated nature for its pure beauty. His vision of nature is calm, rich, and deeply Romantic.


Sensuousness and the Worship of Beauty

Keats believed that poetry should please the senses. He filled his lines with colors, tastes, fragrances, and musical sounds, making his works highly sensuous. This quality sets him apart from other Romantics.

In The Eve of St. Agnes, we feel the warmth of the fire, the softness of the curtains, and the fragrance of incense. Similarly, in Ode on a Grecian Urn, the carved images come alive with music, dance, and eternal youth.

Keats’s devotion to beauty was also philosophical. He believed that beauty provides eternal truth and meaning to life. His most famous line captures this belief:

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”


For Keats, beauty was not only about outer appearance but also about a deeper harmony of life and art. His worship of beauty reflects the Romantic idea that emotions and aesthetics are more valuable than rational knowledge.


Imagination and Escapism

Keats’s imagination was one of his greatest strengths. It allowed him to escape from the harsh realities of life into a world of art, myth, and beauty. His personal life was full of struggles—poverty, the death of his family members, and his own battle with tuberculosis. Yet in his poetry, he created a dream-like world where beauty and joy seemed eternal.

In Ode to a Nightingale, he wishes to fly away with the bird, leaving behind the suffering of the human world. He imagines a land of eternal happiness, where there is no pain, aging, or death. Although he eventually returns to reality, the poem reflects his Romantic desire to transcend ordinary life through imagination.


Melancholy and the Transience of Life

Romantic poetry often combines joy with sadness, and Keats’s works are no exception. He was deeply aware that beauty, love, and happiness are short-lived. Flowers fade, music ends, and even life itself is temporary.

In Ode on Melancholy, he accepts that joy and sorrow are always linked: beauty is touching precisely because it will not last. This sense of transience gives his poetry a tone of sweet melancholy. His own early death only deepens this connection—Keats seemed to live and write with the awareness that beauty and life are fleeting.





Major Odes: The Peak of Keats’s Romanticism

1. Ode to a Nightingale

This ode captures the Romantic longing to escape from reality into the world of imagination. The nightingale’s song becomes a symbol of immortal art, while human life is full of pain and decay. The contrast between mortal suffering and immortal beauty is at the heart of Romantic poetry.


2. Ode on a Grecian Urn

Here, Keats reflects on art’s ability to freeze beauty forever. The figures on the urn never age, never fade, and remain locked in eternal youth. The poem embodies the Romantic faith in art and imagination as a way of preserving beauty against the passage of time.


3. Ode to Autumn

Often considered Keats’s most perfect ode, it celebrates the season of abundance with rich, sensuous imagery. Unlike the other odes, it accepts life and death calmly, showing Keats’s maturity. This ode reflects Romanticism’s deep appreciation for nature and its cycles.

Together, these odes represent the peak of Romantic lyric poetry, uniting imagination, beauty, and philosophical depth.


Negative Capability

One of Keats’s greatest contributions to Romantic thought is his idea of “Negative Capability.” He described it as the ability of a poet to remain in “uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”

In other words, a true poet does not try to explain everything logically but accepts life’s mysteries and contradictions. This idea reflects the Romantic rejection of rationalism and the embrace of imagination and feeling. For Keats, poetry was not about solving problems but about experiencing beauty and truth in their purest forms.


Comparison with Other Romantics

Wordsworth saw nature as a moral teacher, while Keats saw it mainly as a source of beauty. Shelley was a revolutionary, using poetry for political change, while Keats avoided politics and focused on personal beauty and art. Byron was dramatic and passionate, while Keats was gentle,
sensuous, and meditative. Keats’s originality lies in his intense devotion to beauty and sensuous imagery, which makes him the “purest” Romantic poet.


Influence and Legacy


Though Keats died at only 25, his poetry has had a lasting influence. The Victorians admired his craftsmanship, while modern poets value his sensuous imagery and emotional depth. His odes are considered masterpieces of English lyric poetry. Keats represents the Romantic ideal of living intensely, even in the face of suffering and death.




Conclusion

John Keats was one of the greatest Romantic poets, whose short life produced poetry of timeless beauty. His works reflect all the qualities of Romanticism: love of nature, rich imagination, sensuousness, melancholy, and a search for eternal beauty. Through his odes, he expressed the deepest emotions of the human heart, blending joy with sorrow, reality with imagination. His idea of “Negative Capability” showed his belief that poetry must embrace mystery rather than seek clear answers.

While other Romantics engaged in politics or philosophy, Keats devoted himself completely to beauty. For him, beauty was not only an artistic value but also a spiritual truth. His famous line—“Beauty is truth, truth beauty”—remains one of the most memorable expressions of Romantic thought.

Even though his life was brief, Keats’s poetry continues to inspire generations, making him a true representative of Romanticism and one of the most beloved poets in English literature.


In exploring my own Ikigai—



finding purpose at the intersection of what we love, what we are good at, what the world needs, and what we can be paid for—I discovered a meaningful connection between my passions and my future goals. I love drawing, watching K-dramas, and engaging in creative communication, while I am also skilled in listening and guiding others. At the same time, I recognize that the world needs education, environmental care, and awareness. Teaching, creative work, and the role of a professor align well with both my skills and the needs of society. Bringing these elements together, my Ikigai reflects a path of teaching, guiding people, and spreading awareness—a way to use my creativity and communication abilities to help others build a better future.

Sunday, 7 September 2025

“John Dryden’s Absalom and Achitophel: A Masterpiece of Political Satire”



The task, as assigned by Prof. Dilip Barad Sir, is to analyze John Dryden's 'Absalom and Achitophel' based on the worksheet.Click here



Introduction



The late seventeenth century in England was an age of political turbulence, religious controversy, and artistic brilliance. At the center of this cultural whirlwind stood John Dryden, the most influential poet, critic, and playwright of the Restoration era. Among his many works, Absalom and Achitophel (1681) shines as a masterpiece of political satire. Written in heroic couplets, the poem cleverly merges biblical allegory with the political struggles of its time, particularly the Exclusion Crisis. Far more than a pamphlet in verse, it is an enduring exploration of ambition, loyalty, power, and the divine right of kings.


Basic Information: Author, Genre, and Publication

John Dryden (1631–1700), often referred to as the “father of English criticism,” was also the first official Poet Laureate of England. His mastery of the heroic couplet allowed him to craft witty, pointed, and rhythmically elegant satire.



                             Jhon Dryden


Absalom and Achitophel was first published in 1681.

The poem belongs to the genre of verse satire.

It was followed by a second part in 1682, largely written by Nahum Tate but including about 200 lines by Dryden himself, where he responded to his literary rivals.


Historical and Political Context

The poem cannot be understood without knowing the political climate of 1670s and 1680s England:


1. The Exclusion Crisis (1679–1681):

A political movement arose to exclude James, Duke of York, from succeeding his brother Charles II, because James was openly Catholic.

The Whigs (supporters of exclusion) argued that a Catholic monarch would threaten England’s Protestant faith.

The Tories (opposed to exclusion) supported the king’s authority and hereditary succession.

A painting/illustration of Parliament in session.


2. The Popish Plot (1678):


A fabricated conspiracy by Titus Oates claimed that Catholics planned to assassinate Charles II.

Though false, it inflamed anti-Catholic sentiment and influenced public debate.


3. The Monmouth Question:

Charles II had no legitimate heirs, but he had an illegitimate Protestant son, James Scott, Duke of Monmouth.

Many Protestants hoped Monmouth would replace his uncle James in the line of succession.

However, Monmouth’s legitimacy was doubtful, as rumors spread that Charles II had secretly married his mother, Lucy Walter.

Dryden’s poem was written directly in this climate to defend the monarchy and oppose the exclusion of James, Duke of York.


Political Motivation

Dryden’s loyalty to Charles II and the monarchy shaped his political stance. He wrote Absalom and Achitophel to support the king and discredit his opponents, particularly the Earl of Shaftesbury, who was leading the movement to promote Monmouth. In doing so, Dryden used satire as a weapon to preserve political stability and the Stuart dynasty.


The Allegorical Framework

Dryden transforms history into allegory by retelling the biblical story of King David and his rebellious son Absalom (2 Samuel 13–19):

David = Charles II

Absalom = Duke of Monmouth (illegitimate but popular son, courted by Protestant factions)

Achitophel = Earl of Shaftesbury (a cunning political leader, urging rebellion)

This brilliant allegory allowed Dryden to present political conflict in moral and religious terms. Just as Absalom was persuaded by Achitophel to rebel against his father David, so Monmouth was persuaded to challenge Charles II.


Biblical Parallels

Absalom’s Rebellion:

In the Bible, Absalom was handsome, charismatic, and popular with the people—but ultimately misguided. He sought to overthrow his father David, encouraged by the treacherous advisor Achitophel.

Achitophel’s Treachery:

In both the Bible and Dryden’s poem, Achitophel represents the figure of the manipulative counselor whose ambition endangers the kingdom.

David’s Authority:

King David (Charles II) represents divine kingship, patience, and legitimate rule, threatened by the rashness of his son and the malice of his advisor.


Character Studies




Absalom (Monmouth):

Presented with charm and natural gifts, but tragically flawed by his susceptibility to manipulation. Dryden shows him as misguided rather than purely wicked, which makes him a sympathetic figure.

Achitophel (Shaftesbury):

The poem’s true villain—cunning, persuasive, and ambitious. He represents the dangers of political opportunism and rebellion.

David (Charles II):

The image of calm authority, chosen by God to rule. His restraint and dignity contrast with the reckless ambition of others.


Dryden’s Style and Satire

Dryden’s poem is written in heroic couplets—pairs of rhyming iambic pentameter lines. This form allowed him to balance elegance with sharp wit. Some of the features include:

Satirical Edge: 
Characters are mocked through biting descriptions and ironic praise.

Moral Tone: 
The poem defends the divine right of kings and warns against rebellion.

Allegorical Richness:
 The blending of biblical and contemporary references makes the satire both universal and immediate.


Underlying Themes

1. Politics and Satire:

The poem is a direct intervention in the political debate of the Exclusion Crisis.


2. Ambition and Power:


It explores how ambition can corrupt both leaders and followers.


3. Religion and Divine Right:

By equating Charles II with King David, Dryden reinforces the idea that monarchy is ordained by God.


4. Loyalty vs. Treachery:

The poem contrasts loyalty to the rightful king with the destructive influence of deceitful counselors.


Relevance and Lasting Impact

Though rooted in seventeenth-century England, Absalom and Achitophel remains relevant today for several reasons:

It shows how literature can serve as political commentary, shaping public opinion.

Its themes of ambition, loyalty, and manipulation are timeless, applicable to politics in every age.The poem is also a landmark of English satire, influencing later satirists such as Alexander Pope and Jonathan Swift.Dryden’s blending of poetry, politics, and biblical allegory makes Absalom and Achitophel not only a defense of Stuart monarchy but also a study of the universal dynamics of power.


Conclusion

John Dryden’s Absalom and Achitophel is more than a historical curiosity—it is a sophisticated work of art that demonstrates the enduring power of poetry to engage with politics. By weaving together biblical narrative and Restoration-era controversies, Dryden produced a poem that is both timely and timeless. It defended Charles II, discredited his enemies, and left behind a masterpiece of political satire that continues to be studied for its literary brilliance and historical significance.


Refrence

https://blog.dilipbarad.com/2021/01/absalom-and-achitophel-worksheet.html

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