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Your daughter’s chastity—there it begins.
He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams
And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch,
Made scruple of his praise, and wager’d with him
Pieces of gold ‘gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour’d finger, to attain
In suit the place of’s bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus’ wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of’s car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design. Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
’Twixt amorous and villainous.

V. iv. 179–95.

Iachimo’s exposition of his past actions in this, the closing scene of Cymbeline, is a crucial component of the play: we observe a complex narrative approach its closure, a dénouement of which Imogen is (perhaps not insignificantly) catalyst. It is the idea of wronged Imogen that drives this earlier part of Iachimo’s confession — it should be observed, however, that it is not only he who should bear responsibility for wronging her.

Outside of this passage, Iachimo asserts the propriety and nobility of Posthumus, declaring from line 158: ” What should I say? he was too good to be/Where ill men were, and was the best of all/Amongst the rar’st of good ones—sitting sadly,/Hearing us praise our loves of Italy/For beauty, that made barren the swell’d boast/Of him that best could speak.”

His praise of the man whom he had earlier proven hasty, jealous, and in many other ways imprudent (cf. Posthumus’ hysterical, misogynistic tirade in II. v.) feels, without doubt, ironic. In the context of this play such irony should appear humorous — it is, afterall, categorised as comedy — yet one must surely (at the least) consider this as a deeper expression of Iachimo’s repentance. His own assertions of the chastity of Imogen against even that of mythological paragon of virtue, DianaOne must presume this is what Shakespeare means by “Dian” , the contraction being purely for metrical purposes. Ambiguity at this point is introduced, as in Celtic Mythology there is, in fact, a figure known as Dian Cecht. He is, however, associated with craftsmanship and healing: Roman Diana/Greek Artemis’ perpetual virginity is clearly a better (more logical) fit. , serve to exacerbate his own deeds; perhaps in a manner considered humourous.

There appear to be recurrent congruencies between the perceived competency of Posthumus as lover and as leader throughout the playIn line with both Judeo-Christian conceptions of the role of a husband as leader of his wife, as valued by the society of that time; but also in the renewed ideals identified as essential for the “Renaissance man”. , and Iachimo’s speech here serves to further this conception. It is his lovers’ praise, for which Iachimo professes himself “wretch” having held scorn towards, that (at least in part) plays towards Iachimo’s address of Posthumus as “He, true knight”.

Thus, the two principle concerns of this work are found combined, inextricable from one another. From the beginning, Iachimo is a trickster, debased: his scandalous nature defined by his role as seducer and accuser. Such it is that themes of relationship (not romance) and jealousy — not confined to a marital context — are first drawn out. The folk-tale figure of an evil step-mother is the first jealous character met; though, perhaps, one may identify her jealousy as coming after the jealous love of a father towards her daughter. However, one is not necessarily disposed to considering Cymbeline a particularly great ruler; his own absent children are a possible reflectionI. i. 64–65 of uncertain continuity of the royal line, surely a poor way to be in the eyes of an audience aware of the need for stability in terms of monarchical successors.

Irrespective as to who was first jealous chronologically, it seems clear that there are two types of jealousy in this play; the first, it appears, is political. Jealousy, even in the political sense, is intrinsically bound up with children and the notion of inheritance: such is the nature of monarchy. The audience witness an evil step-mother, fighting to place her own successor to the throne in first position. Betwixt her poisoning, scheming and subversion, Posthumus and Imogen are wed; Posthumus is banished by a father jealous not so much of his love, but of his nobility and presumption such that a man could be worthy of the King’s natural daughter. Cloten, though an ignorant fool, similarly exhibits jealous qualities; they are his end.

Iachimo, then, is driven by what? His own jealousy is one of the few not tied up in relationship; he desires not “hers and mine adultery” — but to win the ring! Yet, despite this, his story beings with “Your daughter’s chastity”. The idea of unfounded jealousy pervades even Iachimo’s comic greed; his devices cunning, his manner crafty, his influence deceptive. This is no Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Iachimo is no Puck. It is striking that, though this be called comedy, it is oft closer to a rapidly-executed tragedy with a great deal less introspection, and a fair number of additional subplots.

As Posthumus’ cooler-than-Dian wife, Imogen, was catalyst for a large portion of this work’s plot (with the exception of the “pure” politics regarding Rome… and even that is used to bring Belarius, Polydore, Cadwal, and numerous others — including Posthumus — back into the flow of the text such that all may be bound together in conclusion), she is also catalyst for its dénouement. Imogen chooses to question Iachimo, bringing his story to light. He speaks favourably of Posthumus in the earlier parts of his story; and is interrupted by Posthumus himself before his discourse progresses to Posthumus’ inflamed response.

As it stands, this is the pivotal point upon which all the story’s threads are brought to closure. Imogen’s apparently didactic influence upon Iachimo (“where I was taught/Of your chaste daughter the wide difference/‘Twixt amorous and villanous.”) may have had little impact upon his actions of the time — indeed, it feels as though such a declaration even at this point of the play may be to appease a king who may attribute the loss of his daughter to such actions, were Iachimo to get to the conclusion of his story before Posthumus’ arrival.

Such it is that the narrative is rapidly sketched, and the King appears utterly perplexed. This fantastical series of events that so befits a romance defuses anger, delays judgement, and results in reconciliation of all concerned — with the obvious exception of villains slain in valorous manner by undiscovered sons.

Valour, too, is key to Iachimo’s speech. As alluded to earlier, Posthumus is addressed as “true knight”. The audience is not under any illusions as to the character of Posthumus, having witnessed his outburst of II. v. and observed his somewhat-sulky behaviour for the following two (nearly three) acts. It hardly appears as though he is particularly true — that is, having faith in his wife’s chastity in his absence — or valorous, having spent most of the play lamenting (some would say wallowing) in his own stupidity: first at having married and been deceived, fallen for one of those who are the embodiment of every kind of vice:II. v. 20–28

For there’s no motion
That tends to vice in man but I affirm
It is the woman’s part. Be it lying, note it,
The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part or all; but rather all

Then, at having ordered her assassination (notably, he does not kill her himself — one is, it would seem, encouraged not consider a man of such effeminate outbursts as the histrionics of II. v. capable of such a deed), he spake thus:V. i. 7–11

Gods! if you
Should have ta’en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv’d to put on this; so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
Me, wretch more worth your vengeance.

No, Posthumus is not of a greatly valorous appearance. His character in this tragicomedy invokes both Othello’s jealous violence, and escapes Romeo and Juliet’s tragic suicide upon thinking one another dead, yet as military hero he is no Othello; as lover, no Romeo.

Yet, despite all this, Iachimo’s praise of him to the audience is pleasant, if not true. Whilst Imogen is as faultless Diana, Posthumus forms, with her, the marital relationship that directs the action of this play. It would be deeply dissatisfying for the couple to fail in this process of “untangling”.

This passage of Iachimo’s speech is clearly one from a work that is not devoted to tragedy. Iachimo presents a ” true knight” such that romantic (as in relational, distinct from “romance”) expectations may be fulfilled upon the restoration of Imogen and Posthumus as a couple. From that perspective, Iachimo’s speech is essential. The apparent falsehood of elements of his speech is entirely excusable: his story is a segway into Imogen’s own, which in turn introduces Guiderius and Arviragus — the two who are, from the outset, destined for leadership.

The audience is aware of Posthumus’ unsuitability for such a role; all Iachimo’s speech achieves is a restoration of him such that there is an inherent satisfaction at the restoration of their marriage. Iachimo’s role is as disqualifier and restorer, as he clears way for the ascension of the true heirs to the throne, whilst — through a discourse perhaps gently biased — finally uniting Posthumus and Imogen together in happy marriage.

This document covers part of the Board of Studies point regarding the role and goals of Clemenceau, Lloyd George and Wilson at the Paris (Versailles) Peace Conference.

The 1919 Paris Peace Conference was conducted at the Palace of Versailles shortly – some would argue too shortly – after the conclusion of the First World War. The participants of this conference included then-British Prime Minister Lloyd George, his French counterpart, Premier Clemenceau, Italian President Orlando and US President Wilson. The defeated powers lacked representation at this conference.

The British Prime Minister, Lloyd George, had been elected on the basis of his (party’s) slogans, such as “Make Germany pay”, and “Hang the Kaiser”. His actions were restricted by the public expectation, and the divided support of the Liberal Party and Conservatives in Britain, which had forced his dependence upon the Conservatives, despite holding a considerable majority for his coalition in December 1918. Popular support of a “harsh” peace against Germany was one of the leading factors behind his election, and this political insecurity domestically constrained his ability to negotiate.

French Premier, Clemenceau, similarly favoured a harsh peace, although the motivation differed from that held by Lloyd George and Britain.

Clemenceau, a figure who entered French politics in 1870, witnessed the defeat of France in the Franco-Prussian war soon after this entry. This event may be seen as a catalyst for the establishment of his anti-German sentiments which are so prevalent at the conclusion of the First World War, specifically, manifested at the Paris Peace Conference, in which Clemenceau was unyielding in his calls and demands for heavy reparations against Germany, and, ultimately, for the complete destruction of Germany both in an economic and military sense. The notion of a peace that would permit Germany any degree of self-determination in the years to follow was, to Clemenceau, something unacceptable.

Despite his misgivings against the German state, however, Clemenceau recognised the impossibility of achieving the utter destruction of Germany, regardless as to how much himself and the people he represented may desire this outcome. Having said that, the “peace” process presented an opportunity to France by which Germany could be temporarily neutered, both militarily and economically, allowing France at least a temporary reprieve, during which it could enjoy and exploit trade opportunities (amongst other things) which would not have been possible if Germany’s greater population and economic capabilities were permitted to flourish as their full potential would permit them to (as had previously been the case).

It was understood that such an advantage would only be temporary; whilst Germany could be weakened, it was only a matter of time before the nation reasserted itself, through the re-establishment of its economy, which Clemenceau desired to hinder by harsh reparations, and by the size of the population of Germany which would make this re-establishment possible.

For two reasons, then, it is clear exactly why Clemenceau desired the outcome he did: for France, a severe burden placed upon Germany by way of reparation terms would result not only in the financial support necessary for the reconstruction of post-World War One France – it would, perhaps just as importantly, hold Germany down, permitting the French people greater economic advantage in the years to come.

Clemenceau’s demands were clearly against those consistent with the ideals of a “just peace”, something that was clearly not in accord with Wilson’s fourteen points. Clemenceau, fully aware of this, said of Wilson’s points:

“Mr. Wilson bores me with his Fourteen Points. Why, Almighty God has only Ten Commandments!”

– Clemenceau regarded the fourteen points as contradictory to his goals, and the goals of his country.

Not that dissimilarly, Lloyd George likewise conflicted with Wilson’s Fourteen Points and the notion of a “just peace”, although his behaviours during the Peace Conference were significantly less anti-German than those exhibited by his French counterpart, Clemenceau.

Lloyd George’s goals are commonly surmised in five specific points upon which he wished to gain a concession from other participating parties. These concessions relate to:

1. The destruction of the German fleet;
2. The destruction of the German colonial empire;
3. An increase in British colonial interests and possessions, specifically those in the Middle East for the purposes of attaining oil resources;
4. The re-establishment of European trade, which had been interrupted by the war, and;
5. The prevention of any country, including France – or especially France – from dominating Europe.

The last point is perhaps the most significant, and conveys the misgivings held by Lloyd George towards the motive and activities of France even at the beginning of the Peace Conference.

Points one and two are in accordance with Clemenceau’s demands: the destruction of the German fleet is a move toward the destruction of Germany’s military capacity (albeit in a sphere which Britain wishes to dominate), and the destruction of colonial satellites under Germany’s possession assists both in the diminishing of the influence and power of the German empire, whilst simultaneously having a negative economic impact (although not an impact as severe as Clemenceau would desire) upon Germany.

Point three, relating to the expansion of British colonial interests, can be seen as another motive behind Lloyd George’s support of the destruction of Germany’s colonial possessions: by attaining more colonies through the reparations levied against Germany.

Lloyd George’s fourth point, pertaining to the re-establishment of trade, is in contradiction to Clemenceau’s goals of utterly crushing the German nation in an economic sense; the ‘re-establishment of trade’ encompasses trade with Germany, also.

Britain had become increasingly suspicious of the motives of France, and the final concession Lloyd George wished to achieve ensured that France’s position could not become one of negative dominance over Europe.

Both Lloyd George and Clemenceau aimed at an outcome beneficial only to their interests, showing little concern for the notion put forward by Wilson of a “just peace”. This, combined with the timing of the conference so soon after the war, and the location of the conference – Versailles, centre of anti-German sentiment – lead to an outcome which was unable to simultaneously appease Germany and quell French security fears.

• McCallum, Anne, Evidence of War: Studying the First World War through Sources. Rigby Heinemenn, 1996.
• O’Brien, Carolyn and Merritt, Alan, 1914–1918: The World at War. Heinemann Educational, 1991.
• Guest, Vic, Eshuys, Joe and Lawrence, Judith, World War I: Causes, Course and Consequences. Macmillan Education, 1990.
• “Aftermath of World War I” Wikipedia. 2004.
  Accessed 14 Nov. 2004 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aftermath_of_World_War_I>.

How are the concerns and values of Ibsen’s play established in Act 1?

Henrik Ibsen’s play, A Doll’s House, seeks to criticise the values of the society in which it is set. This criticism is established in the opening act of the play, and further developed throughout (culminating in the active rejection of these values by Nora in the closing scene). From the outset, Ibsen’s work identifies several key values which are of concern, in order to address these at a later point.

The viewer is presented first with the character of Nora Helmer entering from “the outside”, dressed in outdoor attire: this is the first and only time the viewer is aware of Nora having been outside the house in the entire play, with all action taking place in the constraints of the set defined by Ibsen as “A room, comfortably and tastefully, but not expensively, furnished.” The set itself is used to establish an environment of comfort, with some degree of irony: what is now a scene of domestic living, becomes synonymous with a prison for Nora, as the story develops.

Upon first entry to the set, Nora is seen standing in the doorway, paying a porter a krone – although he requests only fifty øre (half a krone) – for carrying a Christmas tree and a basket. Whilst “tips” or gratuities of this kind may have been conventional and possibly even required by the expectations of society at the time, a reader in a more contemporary culture (especially in a country such as Australia, or non-European nations where such an expectation does not exist) may perceive this as reflective of Nora’s “spendthrift” nature, which her husband Torvald Helmer is constantly critical of.

Perhaps more significantly, the juxtaposition of Christmas and all that entails for the family of this play (a tree, gifts, etc.) with payment and commerce may be viewed as exemplifying the values held by the society in which Nora and Torvald live their lives: indeed, there is a complete absence of spiritual or religious references regarding Christmas or any other event which occurs in the play (though some may argue Torvald’s condemnation of his wife in the closing scene stems from “Christian” values; indeed, he criticises her for having “no religion, no morality, no sense of duty”). Torvald is still working in his study, so committed to his work that this is being done at home, even on Christmas Eve – “I must make use of the Christmas week for [work], so as to have everything in order for the new year.” The values of society in which they live are such that numerous visitors at this time (with the exception of Doctor Rank, whose visiting is as a friend, as opposed to a business acquaintance) appear with an agenda not purely social, but motivated by something pertaining to work or employment.

Not only the character of Nils Krogstad, but also, to an extent, that of widowed Mrs. Kristine Linde – the motive for her appearance is not entirely apparent to the audience, although the outcome of her visit is key to creating conflict leading to the revelation of Krogstad’s agreement with Nora; her appointment to the position in which Krogstad was previously employed is the catalyst for further plot development in this play. The conversation between Mrs. Linde and Nora is focussed on financial affairs, with all personal references bound to a need for security in a financial manner, or in accordance with other values of the period. Whilst at the beginning of this dialogue Nora asserts that “today I won’t be selfish”, she comes to speak of her “self”, and all that entails: financial security, her husband, and her children.

In this, Ibsen’s play criticises society as focussed upon financial security and the acquisition of wealth first and foremost, with family and friends taking second place, and religion somewhere in the distance – something to provide a loose set of (patriarchal) values, and an impression of self-righteous morality.

It is with no degree of subtlety that Henrik Ibsen contrasts the characters of Nora and Mrs. Linde at the beginning of their dialogue: It is established that Mrs. Linde has been widowed, with a man she did not love dying and leaving her precious little behind, as his business collapsed with his own death – in this, there is a parallel established between the sustenance of life and work, a value echoed in other aspects of the text, too. Deprived of security (which may be achieved, so it is implied, only through marriage to a male preserver – Torvald describes himself in the closing act as having “broad wings to shelter [her] under”), Mrs. Linde is forced to work for a living of her own, and is at this time unemployed.

Ibsen changes the focus of dialogue so quickly that his audience is left in a state of shock: one moment, Nora is declaring “That must be awful”, and sympathising with Mrs. Linde’s plight, yet in the next breath speaks of her own three children, immediately following Mrs. Linde’s declaration that she has none, and no-one to live for.

At this stage, Nora claims she does not wish to be selfish, and requests Mrs. Linde speak of herself first: until she begins on a tangent of her own, saying “just one thing” first. “Just one thing” is to detail the success of Torvald, and the new position of financial security in which they find themselves. Indeed, the impression created is near-comic in nature: one moment, the audience is faced with a dour-faced Mrs. Linde, and sympathising Nora at her side – the next, Nora is declaring how fortunate she is, in a circumstance with which Mrs. Linde is only able to look upon with a degree of remote longing – “Yes; at any rate it must be delightful to have what you need.” – to which Nora replies “No, not only what you need, but heaps of money– heaps!”.

Nora says “Oh, Christina, I feel so lighthearted and happy!” in regard to her situation at the beginning of the play. There exists something of an argument over the semantics of the term “happy” as applied in this play: it is felt by some that nuances of language representing different degrees and types of “happiness” have been lost in some translations of Ibsen’s original play, such that the meaning of terms in the original Riksmål (Traditional Standard Norwegian), Lykkelig and Lystig, are used inappropriately in some translations: the former term means “happy”, whilst the latter is better translated as “gay” (or, given the contemporary connotations that word now carries, “cheerful”) – associated with a more fleeting and temporary emotion.

The significance of this, of course, is that Nora’s “happiness” (translated as such in both McLeish’s translation, Archer’s translation, and the translation used by the Project Gutenberg public domain text), as an profound state of mind, and not a fleeting emotion, is felt as a direct result of the financial situation in which she is in by virtue of her husbands position at the bank. This is perhaps the clearest way in which the importance and value of materialism to the society in which the play is set is conveyed in the opening act of this text.

There is some degree of irony, then, in the cause of conflict within this text being directly associated with that which is so valued: whilst materialism is the prevailingly good and a cause of “happiness”, embracing this same materialism (with charitable objectives, no less) is the ultimate cause of complication and demise – if demise is an appropriate term for the resolution of this text.

In the opening act, Ibsen establishes Nora’s motive in forging her deceased father’s signature: this is done in order to sustain her husband’s life, and spare her dying father from “anxiety and care” which would have stemmed had he been aware of her husband’s illness. It is said by Krogstad that “the law cares nothing about motives”, and claims that the cause of his own social demise was “no more or nothing worse” than the actions taken by Nora. In this, her actions are condemned along with his, and the stage is set for her inevitable “fall” into the same social disrepute which Krogstad now inhabits: her husband confirms as much later in the same act, claiming what was done was done out of necessity, yet later denied – and this, creating a “poisonous” climate for his children.

He goes on, attributing this poison to a “mother’s influence” – something upon which Nora reflects, and apparently accepts: immediately after this conversation ceases, she refuses to see her “little ones” which are begging to be let into the room.

A concern of this play established here is the notion of guidance by parental figures: this is also echoed in the closing act of the play, however the framework and grounds for later comment are established here, as the audience is presented with the three Helmer children being cared for by their nurse – the relationship between the children and Nora parallels that of Torvald and his wife. This serves as a dual criticism, both of the apparent lack of involvement between children and their traditional mentors, and also in likening the relationship between husband and wife (in this circumstance) to that between a parent and a child: Torvald’s continually refers to his wife as being “little”, as to a child.

The belittling attitude adopted by Torvald towards Nora persists throughout the play, with his likening her to an object which is his possession – “You can’t deny it, my dear little Nora.… It’s a sweet little spendthrift, but she uses up a deal of money.” (emphasis added) – later, towards the close of the act, Torvald apparently takes some pleasure in saying to Nora “Aha! so my obstinate little woman is obliged to get someone to come to her rescue?” when she requests his advice: her motive in this is apparent to the audience (she wishes to placate her husband), and the advice required is trivial – this hints that perhaps Nora is capable of greater control and depth than previously thought: in the words of American feminist Emma Goldman, “Down deep in the consciousness of Nora there evidently slumbers personality and character, which could come into full bloom only through a great miracle—not the kind Nora hopes for, but a miracle just the same.”

To the audience, Nora’s concern at this point is primarily for her husband and children: there is no notable sense of self in her consternation with regard to Krogstad’s threats. This is reflected not only in her past actions (specifically, the manner in which she concealed the source of funds for their holiday to Italy from her husband and father), but also in her immediate concerns – she recognises a threat from Krogstad, and responds by speaking of her husband: “If my husband does get to know of it, of course he will at once pay you what is still owing, and we shall have nothing more to do with you.” Her concerns are not for the implications for herself at any point in this first act. Later, when Torvald asserts that the cause of moral corruption is from the mother, Nora responds by shunning her children, in her fear of what she may do to them.

She believes her husband implicitly, not thinking to question him: she is, as the title of the play implies, a doll, stuck in a doll’s house, manipulated by others. The opening act establishes this environment, her domestic prison, and sets the stage for her inner turmoil and subsequent escape from the strictures and expectations of society in the closing lines of this play. Through the development of Nora’s character, and gradual revelation of “truth” opposing society, Ibsen annunciates his concerns and oppositions to accepted values, both in the opening act, and further throughout the play.