Author Archives: Natalie Edwards

An Exception to the Rule?

In discussing Tis Pity She’s a Whore, we’ve talked a bit about whether or not we’re meant to identify with Annabella and Giovanni’s plight and root for their success, whatever that success means. If we are meant to be on their side, this would imply condoning incest at large. However, in Act V Scene 5, Giovanni frames their relationship in this way: “[W]hen they but know / Our loves, that love will wipe away that rigour / Which would in other incests be abhorred” (Ford 234). Giovanni says this in telling Annabella the ways in which he hopes society will see their relationship after they have died. In framing their relations this way, does he see his and Annabella’s transgression as an exception to the rule that incest is universally deplorable? If so, why are he and Annabella special? What are the conditions for an acceptable/unacceptable incestuous relationship?

Re: Quilligan and the Duchess

Hi Sarah,

I agree that it’s worth taking a look at the Duchess through the lens of Qulligan’s argument about agency, since she doesn’t explicitly reference Webster’s play in her article. I personally found fault with Qulligan’s logic that incest can act as a catalyst for agency in women; if anything, it would seem to reinforce a woman’s – particularly a noblewoman’s – inability to escape the obligations of class, i.e. maintaining her family’s bloodlines. Many women were expected or even forced to marry first and second cousins to keep blood blue, so it would seem that incest in this context only bolsters elitist patriarchal authority structures.

In the Duchess’ case, I saw her declaration of “I am the Duchess of Malfi still” as a last-gasp attempt to convince herself that her rank would save her from such tyranny and suffering, rather than a reassertion of agency. Her mind has been irrevocably fractured by her brothers’ psychological torture at this point, so she lacks the strength to take control of her own life again. Her initial attempt to resist patriarchal authority through her marriage to Antonio was what sparked her brothers’ wrath, and their actions stripped her of whatever other agency she might have had.

Philips’ “Innocence”

At the end of her piece on the lesbian subtext (if it’s even subtext) of Katherine Philips’ poetry, Traub defines her “innocence” as a sort of chaste feminine love, rather than a denial of her sexual leanings or any other previous interpretation by other scholars. Is this “innocence” a sort of female-female version of the “married chastity” that Britomart and Queen Elizabeth were said to represent, or is it too different in other ways to make that comparison?

Re: A Rapture

Re Carly’s question as to whether Carew is being facetious in his last lines of “A Rapture,” I think he is and he isn’t. The notion of men being atheists and women being whores points out the severest ways that people’s honor, respective of their sex, can be smeared, as women’s chastity and men’s holiness (as we saw in Spenser) are their most valued virtues in the time period. With this idea in mind, Carew is being facetious in that his speaker knows that his religiosity and his lover’s chastity will both be compromised if he succeeds in seducing her, and she, far from not being called a whore, could easily be branded as one by a harsh, prudish society. At the same time, Carew is not being facetious because he is pointing out the most aggravating ways in which society frustrates his speaker and chafes against his lifestyle, as premarital or adulterous sex can quickly lead to one’s downfall, and how all this religious fervor might end up causing more harm than good.

Donne’s Complicated Piety

I’m having a little trouble reconciling the heavily implied eroticism of Donne’s poetry with his supposedly unassailable piety. In Izaac Walton’s biography of Donne, Walton makes the poet appear as a sort of bastion of Anglican beliefs and practices – practices that proponents of the Church of England often contrasted with the more “sensual” elements of worship in Catholicism. The Norton biography of Donne also points out that Donne only took his position of leadership at St. Paul’s, which he had been holding off on doing, due to his dire financial circumstances. This reluctance, in combination with the subjects of much of his oeuvre, might lead one to question how much of a model of English protestantism of the period Donne truly was.

Marlowe and Internalized Misogyny in Elizabethan England

Though I know Marlowe’s lines in Hero and Leander reflect the conventional social wisdom of his time, I found myself pretty bothered by some of the generalizations he made about women in this poem, and in his characterization of Hero herself. He presents Hero as a stereotypical “tease,” apparently always saying “no” when she means “yes” and relishing in the blood of her failed suitors that stains her skirt. When juxtaposed with Marlowe’s abhorrence of the rapacious actions of Jove, I found myself a bit confused about Marlowe’s view of the role of a woman’s consent in sexual relations, as it seemed impossible for Hero, and all women, to have her answer of “no” taken seriously when a man asked, or attempted to take, something of her body. Did anyone else get this vibe? And, if so, what does it say about women’s sexual agency in sixteenth century England?

Alas, Poor Antonio

In his piece “Fiction and Friction,” Greenblatt mentions Antonio’s passion for Sebastian in passing several times, but he does not spend a particularly long time dwelling on this relationship – arguably the most explicit example of homosexual desire in Twelfth Night. I find it interesting that Antonio is so bold as to declare his love for Sebastian in no uncertain terms, not only to Sebastian himself but also to others – including officers who have come to arrest him for other crimes – especially considering the sentences imposed on Marin le Marcis and his lover during the same time period. In view of the fact that le Marcis and le Febvre were condemned to horrible punishments and grisly deaths for engaging in homosexual behavior, how can Antonio so brazenly declare his homosexual love in such public spaces? Is it a sex-based determination, since le Marcis and le Febvre were both women and Antonio and Sebastian are both men? As Greenblatt points out, Shakespeare frequently makes self-reflexive references to the fact that all female parts in his comedies were being played by men, but Antonio’s love is not an object of levity or humor but one of serious passion, and he is ultimately “left out in the cold” but not threatened with bodily harm (Greenblatt 93). I find it difficult to reconcile such differing reactions to the presence of homosexual love and relations in Elizabethan England. Any ideas?

Borrowed Language in Twelfth Night

Somewhat in relation to the discussion we had about interpretation and reading in Twelfth Night, I’ve been thinking about how Shakespeare’s characters’ use of borrowed language so often causes confusion in the interwoven plot-lines.

For example, when Sir Andrew eavesdrops on Viola and Olivia’s conversation in Act III Scene I, he hears Viola’s eloquent, romantic diction and says to Sir Toby, “‘Odors,’ ‘pregnant,’ and ‘vouchsafed’ – I’ll get ’em all three all ready” (NA 1076). The anthology’s footnote tells us that he means to “commit” these words “to memory for later use” (NA 1076). However, being the dolt that he is, Sir Andrew has no idea what these words actually mean, so any “later use” of them will probably be out of context and nonsensical.

Additionally, in Act III Scene IV, Malvolio quotes what he believes to be Olivia’s letter back to her, thinking she will recognize her own words, but she interprets his speech not as quotations but as statements directed toward her, which confuses her so much that she declares, “Why, this is very midsummer madness” (NA 1083).

What do these examples tell us about the Puritans’, and humans’ in general, penchant for borrowing language to serve their own ends, religious and otherwise? How does the interpretation – or literalization – of these words affect conversations and relationships? What arguments might Shakespeare be making about originality and authenticity?

Spenser’s Greek Allusions

I’m honestly still not sure what Spenser thinks of the Greek Gods. He references them frequently as being representatives of virtues, but he also sees them as paragons of sin. Of course all their stories, virtuous or not, are meant to teach lessons, and Spenser doesn’t have to feel one way about all of them, but there seems to be a bit of a gender divide: Spenser tends to revere Goddesses and deplore Gods. This is particularly evident in how long he lingers over the descriptions of the tapestries in Busirane’s castle – all of which depict cautionary tales of lustful Gods who ruin the mortal women with whom they consort (a fate which might come to Amoret if she is not saved by virtue). Is this an example of Protestant values vanquishing Pagan ones, or do the Greek myths simply serve as convenient allegories?

Entry Point for The Faerie Queene

Hi Raisa,

I definitely agree that this is a tough text to get your teeth into. Most of the time, it feels as though Spenser is either teaching an open-and-shut moral lesson or describing something in such a way that I have no idea what’s going on. I personally responded to the parallels in imagery between Una and the Virgin Mary, and how that relates to Elizabeth in terms of our discussion of portraiture, but something else that struck me was the idea of “invention” that we discussed last week. Spenser references Chaucer and Ovid fairly frequently in his style and subject matter in The Faerie Queene, so his use of that technique and how it relates to poetic authenticity at the time might be a cool thing to examine.

Hope everyone’s enjoying the snow day!