Resource Post 11

For my last post I would like to offer a secondary source on the subject of Renaissance friendship (particularly as it relates to Shakespeare and his works): Sovereign Amity: Figures of Friendship in Shakespearian Contexts, by Laurie Shannon.

In this book, Shannon explores the idea of the friend as a "another self" within early modern friendships, where friends were likened to one soul split between two bodies. She explores this idea of friendship--along with the corresponding ideas of the second self and the shared soul--in regard to societal, historical, and literary contexts. Her argument throughout the book is that friendship was a model for political discourse, and writers of the early modern period explored the idea of sovereignty through their construction of friendship.

This books offers information at a variety of levels. First, Shannon does provide background information on Renaissance society and culture, as well (of course) as on ideas of friendship during the period. This gives a solid base of information from which to build one's topic/argument further. Second, Shannon ties together the culture of the early modern period with literature of the period, exploring (as mentioned above) how writers tinkered with the idea of friendship and love as a way of exploring political discourse and societal ideals. This, then, provides a good resource for those looking at how early modern English society and literature interacted, particular with regard to such love and friendship. Third, Shannon provides analyses of a variety of early modern English texts (mostly Shakespeare's), focusing on the importance and function of friendship within those works. This is a wonderful resource, then, for scholarship on this topic as it specifically relates to and is employed in specific Renaissance works.

Now, as far as I'm aware, Arden of Faversham is not treated in Shannon's book. However, much of what Shannon writes (with the exception of her readings of specific texts that are not Arden of Faversham) is applicable to many pieces of Renaissance literature, and thus I recommend it for anyone interested in the connection between Renaissance friendship and Renaissance literature.

Also, there several other books with a more narrow (but perhaps also more thorough) focus on the connection between friendship and culture in the early modern period (in one way or another). It may be worth looking at: Against Reproduction: Where Renaissance Texts Come From, by the wonderful Stephen Guy-Bray; Textual Intercourse: Collaboration, Authorship, and Sexualities in Renaissance Drama, by Jeffrey Masten, and The Renaissance of Lesbianism in Early Modern England, by Valerie Traub.

Resource Post 10

Alright, I want to get one more quick post off before I head to class. One or two more will be posted after. This post will focus on "Alice Arden’s Freedom and the Suspended Moment of Arden of Faversham," written by Julie Schutzman and published in Studies in English Literature issue 36.2.

In this essay, Schutzman argues that Alice Arden displays a female autonomy within Arden of Faversham in that she manipulates the traditional social structures of both the domestic space of her marriage and the social space of the town in which the play takes place. This manipulation, she contends, presents a threat to the patriarchal order of these societal structures, and in this way she is able to achieve such autonomy. Of particular interest to my posted research topic is Schutzman’s discussion of Alice’s manipulation of Arden, wherein the states that “Arden chooses to remove his gaze from the scene of his wife’s adultery” (304). Schutzman argues that this shift makes Arden the surveyed rather than the surveyor in his marriage (a reversal of the traditional structure), but I plan to use this point to note that Arden’s decision to ignore his wife’s adultery and instead spend his time with Franklin allows, as Schutzman argues, the reversal of the social order which leads to his end.


This is a great article for those of you with feminist interests, as Schutzman pays close attention to the female agency that Alice achieves by challenging the patriarchy. This article is thus also good for those of you looking for articles relating to the treatment of women and the construction of the patriarchy in early modern England, since this essay explores Alice's interaction and engagement with these aspects of Renaissance English society. While the usefulness of this article is hit or miss for my topic, I feel that it would be incredibly useful for those of you who are looking for sources dealing with any of the issues that I have mentioned above.

Resource Post 9

At this point, I have already listed the best secondary sources (that I could find) for my chosen research topic. In the 3-4 posts to follow, I will be giving slightly shorter analyses of the remaining secondary sources that I would like to talk about, since they become much less involved with the focus of this portion of my blog. However, this does not mean that those of you looking for resources on domestic violence/homosociality (especially in Arden of Faversham) should pay these next few sources no mind; you may find some of these sources more relevant to your own interests than they are to mine, and so I encourage you to at least look at them in more detail. Anyhow, today's post focuses on Alexander's Leggatt's essay, "Arden of Faversham" (creative and informative title, I know), published in Shakespeare Survey: An Annual Survey of Shakespearian Study and Production, volume 36.

Now I know what you're thinking: "Shakespeare Survey? I thought your topic deals with Arden of Faversham..." This is true. But Arden of Faversham was written by an anonymous author, and there are some who argue that Arden of Faversham was written by Shakespeare and that his authorship of the play was either lost or never made known. And besides, it doesn't make a difference to my topic whether Shakespeare wrote the play or not. So I thought I would take a look at Leggatt's article to see what it had to offer (since it's generic title made me think that it would be applicable to my subject matter. Anyhow, here's my analysis of the article:

In this essay, Leggatt examines the style in which the anonymous author of Arden of Faversham wrote the play. He compares the style of writing and writing conventions employed in the text to other, popular early modern English plays, such as Tambourline and Hamlet. Leggatt argues that, in writing Arden of Faversham, the author has allowed a greater degree of realism into the early modern theater than other plays of the time allowed.

There's more to it than this, I know, but I feel that I have summarized the gist of the article quite well. Of particular interest to my topic, Leggatt does examine the character Franklin on several occasions throughout the course of his essay, and in one instance he notes how Franklin tends to pull Arden away from the domestic problems that Arden faces throughout the play. He also notes how Arden and Mosby seem to have an intuitive, friendship-like connection with one another, as seen through their several interactions. More specifically, I plan to use Leggatt's observations as part of the foundation for my claim that it is Franklin and his connection to Arden that allow for Alice’s adultery and, later, Arden’s murder.

This article may admittedly not be ideal for all topics relating to Arden of Faversham. I know that I am taking several small pieces from the article for my own argument, but that's one thing I like about the essay. There is a lot of information in the article, and thus there is a lot that can be used for a variety of different topics. So do check it out, and I hope it'll be equally (if not more) useful for you.

Resource Post 8

I would like to turn again to secondary sources by looking at Randall Martin's essay, "Arden winketh at his wife’s lewdness, & why!’: A Patrilineal Crisis in Arden of Favrersham," published in Early Theater issue 4 (2001).

In this essay, Martin compares Arden’s behavior towards Alice with his behavior towards other characters, namely Mosby. He argues that the play fashions Arden into a man preoccupied with business; he is always hunting for ways to elevate his social status and reinforce his financial stability, particularly as a way of ensuring his familial line continues with the same status which he has attained by the beginning of the play. Martin argues that it is Arden’s preoccupation with business and his tolerance for the adultery which Alice is committing that allows Alice and Mosby’s murder plot to have power and to ultimately be successful.

Martin touches on a number of good points in this essay. From the very beginning of the play, we are able to see two things about Arden quite clearly. The first is that Arden is very concerned with his social status. He seems to revel in his own successes while viciously critiquing the successes of others, namely Mosby, whom I see as very much like Arden in his own rise to success (both came into prominence through work, not inheritance). The second is that Arden seems to simply ignore his wife's adulterous behavior, even though it is made quite clear (in my opinion) that Arden knows full well of Alice's adultery. Martin explores the connection between these two aspects in this essay, and he (as I mention above) argues that it is this obsession with his social status that facilitates and leads Arden to his eventual murder.

This essay is obviously wonderful for my own research, as I also aim to explore the connection between Arden's behavior and his eventual murder. Unlike Martin, however, my argument is that it is Arden's prioritization of the bond of male friendship over the need to address his wife's adulterous behavior that eventually ends with Arden's murder. Seeing as the connection between Martin's work and my own is so strong, I feel that I would be remiss not to use it in my research.

Now, in my experience, I have found that economy and social status are prominent concerns in the works of the early modern (and later, Restoration) English stage. Thus, even if your topic of interest is not what mine is (I should certainly hope that it is not...), this work would still be worth checking out in order to see how the anonymous author of the play interweaves this concern over economy and social status with another major concern of early modern English society: the power of women. There's a lot that might be taken from Martin's article,  and I definitely recommend it to anyone whose subject matter is related to this topic.

Resource Post 7

Today I would like to talk about another primary source related to to my research topic: Holinshed's Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland.

In these Chronicles, Holinshed undertakes the compilation and construction of a comprehensive history of the British isles. These entries date back as early as 1066 (the date of the Norman invasion of England by William I). Fairly straightforward, really, if also incredibly lengthy. However, if you are working with the history of Britain at all, it may be worth looking at Holinshed's Chronicles in order to get a (perhaps alternative) view regarding a good many historical events. I myself am using the Chronicles for its description of the murder of Arden of Faversham by his wife. The events of this murder are retold in several other places besides the Chronicles, but Holinshed's work provides the most well-known (and perhaps the most closely documented) account of the murder and the events leading up to and after it. I will be comparing this account with the account provided in the play Arden of Faversham, particularly noting how the character Franklin from the play is not named in Holinshed's Chronicles (since part of my argument is that Franklin's introduction to the play is significant in that he and Arden share the bond of male friendship, in the idealized early modern sense).

One thing that I noticed when looking for access to Holinshed's Chronicles is that it was incredibly hard to get a hold of a copy (or, more accurately, copies--the work has several volumes). As such, I would like point you towards a resource that will allow you full access to the entirety of the Chronicles from the comfort of your own living room: The Holinshed Project (click for link). Researchers from the University of Oxford have created this online version of both the 1577 and 1587 editions of the Chronicles, which is fully searchable and contains image links to EEBO (Early English Books Online--you must have an account to view these images). This is a wonderful resource for Holinshed's Chronicles, as it is very easy to navigate and is hosted by a trustworthy source (the day the University of Oxford becomes an unworthy source is a noteworthy day, indeed). Thus, if you're at all interested in Holinshed's Chronicles (or even if you're not but need to check it our for your own research), I would definitely recommend that you make use of U of Oxford's very helpful resource.

One more post, and then I'll see you all tomorrow.

Paradise Lost | On Adam and Eve as Complementary Figures; Are Adam, Eve, and Eden Perfect?

We take a break in our erratically-scheduled publishing of resource posts to bring you our regularly-scheduled weekly blog post (it's only one hour until midnight, I have a lot to talk about in this post, and I need to be sure that it gets published by the time the clock strikes 12:00).

It seems to me that Adam and Eve are often represented as complementary figures to one another. In Book 4, for instance, the poem reads, "For contemplation he [Adam] and valor formed, / For softness she [Eve] and sweet attractive grace" (4.297-298). Adam is made to be valorous and strong, whereas Eve is made to be soft and attractive--two very opposite characterizations. Adam is a thinker, and we see this through Adam's continued engagement in conversation with the angels telling Adam of creation and the heavens (in multiple places throughout Paradise Lost). Eve, conversely, is a doer, and we see this, for example, in Book 8; when the conversation between Adam and the angel turns towards "studious thoughts abstruse" (8.40), Eve excuses herself from the conversation to go tend to her plants in the garden (8.40-47). And finally, in Book 9, Adam expresses concern when Eve suggests that they tend Eden independently; he reminds her that Satan may try to tempt them, and he worries that, divided, they might be more easily assailable (9.251-256).

So here are my questions regarding this idea of Adam and Eve as complementary figures. When Satan sees Eve in Eden, he states that he is glad that Adam is not around, because he would rather avoid Adam's higher intellect (9.483) and his stronger build (9.484-485). Could we potentially assume that Satan, if he had found Adam alone instead of Eve, would have tailored his persuasions to take advantage of Adam's lack of beauty and grace or perhaps his lack of physical experience? Satan butters up Eve by referring to her beauty and pitching to her love and knowledge of plants when he tempts her. Perhaps if it had been Adam instead, Satan would have told him that the fruit from the forbidden tree would make him even more gorgeous than Eve, and/or tell him that the fruit was not any more special than the other fruits in the garden (Adam, after all, spends much less time tending to the plants than Eve does, and thus he would be less familiar with the gardens than Eve, who herself admits that she has yet to experience all the trees in the garden). Satan has shown that he is capable of great guile and persuasiveness. I think that he takes advantage of Eve's lack of Adam's knowledge, not that he finds Eve inherently weak. Thus, I think that Adam would have been just as easily tempted, since Satan would merely have changed his tactics and played to Adam's weaknesses (which are Eve's strengths).

Also, I have to wonder just how perfect Eden truly is. We are told that Adam and Eve's job is to cut back the overgrown plants in Eden, and that if they were to slack off, Eden would become overgrown. What kind of paradise is that? Heaven is described as a utopia, and it is never-changing, ever-stagnant (see Book 1; I mention this some in my earlier post on Paradise Lost). And if we think about it, wouldn't any paradise be stagnant? In a perfect world, nothing would have to be changed at all, ever. Yet in Eden, the plants grow, and they grow quickly. One or two days would be enough for the entire garden to become overgrown. What if, then, Eden is not perfect? What if Adam and Eve are not perfect? Surely a perfect creation would not have eaten from the forbidden tree, yet both Adam and Eve do. And if Adam and Eve are not perfect, can we let their decision to eat the fruit slide because they were innocent and perfect when they decided to do so? I think not, because I find them flawed. And I don't think whatever flaws they have is merely part of their perfection. Because doesn't that necessarily go against the idea of perfection?

Just some thoughts.

Another resource post on the way. Maybe. It's kind of late.

Research Post 6

Welcome to post 6 of the resource potion of this blog. I would like to, with this post, begin moving into my list of more "specific" sources regarding my research topic on Arden of Faversham. That is, I want to start moving away from sources like Dolan, Fletcher, and Gowing, which discuss a broad spectrum of topics using a wide variety of both primary and secondary sources, and instead begin talking about journal and book articles talking about very focused aspects of Renaissance theater, particularly Arden of Faversham. The first source along these lines is: Staging the Renaissance, edited by David Scott Kastan and Peter Stallybrass.

I always like compilations of essays, especially those that are divided into essays on the early modern stage and essays on specific plays. And guess what? Staging the Renaissance is composed just like this! I enjoy these compilations the most because I (more often than not) can find an essay on the specific play I am researching (in this instance, Arden of Faversham) juxtaposed alongside essays on a variety of aspects of the early modern English theater and society. This makes it incredibly easy to be looking through one essay, such as Catherine Belsey's "Alice Arden's Crime," and think of something such as:

It's interesting that Belsey argues that Alice Arden's true crime, in the play, is her challenge to patriarchal authority, not so much the fact that she murders someone, especially given that Alice's character was likely played by a male (read: boy) actor. What implications arise from the challenge to the patriarchy being presented by a male actor?


I can then just flip over to Lisa Jardine's essay, "Boy Actors, Female Roles, and Elizabethan Erotocism," and see if there's anything discussed in the essay that I could use in my own work. In this case, unfortunately, there's not much, if anything, in Jardine's essay that I could see as beneficial to my research, but I am just demonstrating a point: that Staging the Renaissance is a resource that has a lot to offer for those of you who are looking for more information regarding early modern theater. And for those of you who are interested, you can find the table of contents, as well as some of the content itself, courtesy of Google Books here.

Anyhow, I wanted to talk a little more specifically about Belsey's article, since I actually am using her essay in my current research. So, first, here is a brief synopsis of what I saw to be the focus of the work. In this essay, Belsey argues that the true nature of Alice Arden’s crime in Arden of Faversham is not the murder of her husband but rather the challenge to marriage and patriarchal authority which she presents by committing such a murder. Belsey addresses this issue by attending to two contexts: the historical/societal, and the textual. In the first, she namely focuses on the murder as it is presented in Holinshed’s Chronicles of England, Scotland and Ireland as well as the trends (or lack thereof) of violence by women in early modern England. In the second, she reads Arden of Faversham to demonstrate such facets of early English culture as they appear in the play.

Now, my plan for this article is to expose how the homosocial male bond, which was valued as greater than marriage (see research posts 3 and 4, on Montaigne and Bacon), ironically allows for Alice’s challenge through not only the murdering of her husband but also through the destruction of the homosocial male bond. Though Belsey does not consider the homosocial bond between Arden and Franklin (no one has, really, as far as I know), instead focusing on Alice, I still think my essay and hers will work well in conjunction with one another. Belsey argues that Alice challenges the patriarchy through her murder, and I would agree. I will simply show that part of this is that she is also destroying the privileged male-male bond, and also that the privileged male-male bond is what allows for Alice's crime to unfold in the way it does.

I hope to get at least one more resource post done before the end of the weekend (hopefully two!), as well as one regular, weekly post. So stay tuned (or whatever the equivalent is for the internet... stay online? Humor's not my strong point).

Resource Post 5

I'd like to continue my series of resource posts with another book that discusses household structure and domestic violence in early modern England: Domestic Dangers, by Laura Gowing.

This book is similar in a lot of ways to Dolan's Dangerous Familiars. Gowing's book, however, is much more focused on the role of women in society and in domestic violence, whereas Dolan takes a much broader approach to the subject matter. Gowing, in this book, provides a very thorough exploration of such topics as: gender, as it would have been perceived in early modern England, in the household domestic space and also in larger society; women and their interactions with the early modern court system; the importance of language (namely spoken language--few women read and wrote with much frequency) and of reputation in both societal and judicial aspects; and domestic violence (specifically, the link between adultery and domestic violence).

The one thing that I really like about Dolan's book is that, while it does examine a fairly broad subject, it does so while also linking back to literature of the period. As a literature student, that is fairly invaluable to me. Dolan also, however, considers judiciary documents from the period, as well as some historical pieces. Gowing, on the other hand, deals almost exclusively with court cases and court documents. This can be a really great source, then, if court cases and the early modern English legal system is what you're interested in. The really great thing about Gowing's book, too, is that she lists an extensive bibliography of primary (printed and unprinted) and secondary works, which makes it quite easy to find other sources about, well, practically any and every aspect of what Gowing discusses over the course of her book.

While I'm not entirely sure how much use I will get out of Gowing's book in working on my specific research topic (see my post from a few weeks ago), I have certainly gotten a fair bit of use from it in getting background information about early modern English society, particularly with regard to domestic violence and gender roles, and I have also used the bibliography to point me in the direction of several other sources (though, admittedly, I don't have access to the majority of the works she lists).

Anyhow, I hope to do a few more of these quick posts tonight, including one or two fairly specific journal article posts.

Resource Posts 3 and 4

Alright, on to our next resource. Or rather, two resources that go hand-in-hand with one another. Today I would like to turn to the homosocial bond aspect of my research topic. And for that, I would recommend looking at two primary sources, from the early modern English period: Michel de Montaigne's essay "Of Friendship" and Francis Bacon's essay "Of Friendship" (their titling is quite original, no?). Michel de Montaigne was a French essayist writing during the middle-late 1500s, and Francis Bacon was a... well, hm... he did many things, one of which was write essays, which he did during the late 1500s and early 1600s. Their respective "Of Friendship" essays both consider the male bond of friendship (and it is important to note that they were, in fact, talking exclusively about male-male friendship) and its fullness or pureness as opposed to other bonds, particularly that of marriage. While there are many points made in each essay, there is one passage from each of these essays that I have found to be of particular importance.

First, from Bacon:
"A principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations, are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart, but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession."

Bacon here describes friendship in a very medical sense. Diseases plague the body, but the mind may also become diseased if a man does not have someone to whom he may open his heart and share all his feelings. And this person, as Bacon asserts, is a male friend. This casts the male friendship in a very important, almost necessary, light, a notion which is reinforced with Bacon's closing lines: "I have given the rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage."

Second, from Montaigne:
"Concerning marriage, besides that it is a covenant which hath nothing free but the entrance, the continuance being forced and constrained, depending else-where than from our will, and a match ordinarily concluded to other ends: A thousand strange knots are therein commonly to be unknit, able to break the web, and trouble the whole course of a lively affection; whereas in friendship there is no commerce or busines depending on the same, but it selfe. Seeing (to speake truly) that the ordinary sufficiency of women cannot answer this conference and communication, the nurse of this sacred bond: nor seeme their mindes strong enough to endure the pulling of a knot so hard, so fast, and durable. And truly, if without that, such a genuine and voluntarie acquaintance might be contracted, where not only mindes had this entire jovissance,  but also bodies, a share of the alliance, and where a man might wholly be engaged: It is certaine, that friendship would thereby be more compleat and full: But this sex could never yet by any example attaine unto it, and is by ancient schooles rejected thence."

My interest in Montaigne is that he compares the bond of friendship with the bond of marriage. Not only is friendship a pure bond which does not require work to maintain and which is difficult to destroy, but it is also a greater bond than marriage, which is a much weaker bond, requiring work and which may come undone with ordinary stresses. If we were to turn back to Bacon and look at his essay "Of Marriage and Single Life," we could determine a similar devaluing of marriage.

Male friendship was an important aspect of early modern English society, and these two essays, as far as I have seen, tend to be two of the most essential in discussing this topic. As such, if you are at all interested in this aspect, I would recommend that you definitely read these two essays in their entirety to get a better sense of what male friendship at the time was about and how it was viewed.

Resource Post 2

Here's the second installment in my presentation of information sources pertaining to domestic violence, gender roles, and homosocial bonds in early modern England: Sex, Gender, and Subordination in England, 1500-1800, by Anthony Fletcher.

Fletcher's book is easily one of the most comprehensive studies of early English ideas about gender and domestic space that I have encountered over the past several years of studying early English literature. He discusses the idea of the gendered body, the patriarchal construction of society, ideas about femininity and female gender roles, ideas about masculinity and masculine gender roles, the progression of these views from the beginning to the end of the early modern period, and more. He analyzes these aspects utilizing a variety of different sources, such a court cases, literature, recorded history, as well as scholarship by a number of scholars from various fields writing on a variety of topics. If you are at all interested in further reading on ideas about sex and gender as they existed in early modern England, this is the resource to go to.

Further, I mentioned that a major downfall to Dolan's book (which I discussed in yesterday's post) was that there was no comprehensive bibliography with which one could look for further sources on a topic of interest. This is decidedly not the case in Fletcher's book. Fletcher compiles what I would estimate to be well over 500 sources, about one quarter to one third of which are primary and the rest are secondary from a variety of mediums. In this way, if there is a particular subject which Fletcher touches on but doesn't fully explore, there are still numerous sources which he provides that the reader may use to find further, more specific information. Fletcher also makes detailed notes throughout the body of his book, too, which also adds to the incredible comprehensiveness of his work.

Moreover, Fletcher's book is available for preview on Google Books right here. While this is just a preview, you can nonetheless gain a sense of what the book is all about as well as see the table of contents and a few pages from each section. If you are looking for a specific subject, the Google Books preview is also fully searchable, returning results even from pages not up for preview. In this way, you are able to find out if what you are looking for is in the book. I have done this on multiple occasions, as the book is admittedly quite long and finding a 1-2 page entry on a specific subject can become rather frustrating.

All in all then, this book is a wonderful place to start with regard to the topic at hand. It is a great resource in and of itself, yet it is also a great place to look for further sources. I highly recommend this as a resource for anyone interested in gender in early modern England, as I have certainly gotten a fair bit of use out of it over the course of the past several semesters.

Anyhow, see you tomorrow with the next resource.

Resource Post 1

I announced several weeks ago that the topic for the research portion of this blog would focus on homosocial bonds and adultery/husband murder in early modern England, particularly as it is presented in the play Arden of Faversham, by an anonymous author. Rather than make a post discussing one of these aspects and providing a bibliography of works (that I have found) which treat that subject, which would undoubtedly be quite unwieldy, I will be presenting a series of posts considering one source each. In each post I aim to do two things: 1) discuss a book or scholarly article's merit with regard to one of the two topics mentioned above, and 2) demonstrate (briefly) the book or article's significance with regard to my specific research topic. So without further ado, I present our first book: Dangerous Familiars: Representations of Crime in England, 1550-1700, by Francis Dolan. I do not aim to discuss the topics of any books in detail; that is, of course, what the books I discuss are for. I merely aim to survey their material with slightly more specificity than just reading their title/subtitle would allow.

This book is a great resource for anyone wishing to find out more information on crime within the scope of the domestic sphere in early modern England. Dolan, throughout the course of his book, covers such topics as: husband murder, the social conditions which led to husband murder, and the after-effects of such a murder on the perpetrator and the community as a whole; petty treason and also domestic violence and rebellion, particularly as seen in The Tempest (Shakespeare), Arden of Faversham (Anonymous), and transcripts of the earl of Castlehaven's rape and sodomy trial; wife murder, societal influences for wife murder, and the effects of wife murder; infanticide, its societal influences and effects, and its occurrence in The Winter's Tale (Shakespeare); and finally, witchcraft and its connection with domestic violence during the early modern period.

This text is ideal especially for those writers coming from a background in literature, history, and criminal justice, as Dolan deals at length with early modern plays (again, namely The Tempest, Arden of Faversham, and The Winter's Tale), which undoubtedly reflect many values and thoughts contemporary to the time, as well as with court cases and other recorded instances of domestic violence and domestic culture during the early modern period. In this aspect, Dolan's book is more focused in its subject material than other books designed to give a broad overview of the domestic landscape of early modern England, but it still broad enough of a subject to be useful in many regards. The only downfall to Dolan's book is that there is no bibliography of works listed, so the reader must be rather clever and hunt down the works referenced in the text of the book itself.

Finally, this book will, for a variety of the reasons listed above, be very useful to my research topic. As I have mentioned, the book deals specifically with domestic violence in the play Arden of Faversham, the main/sole text with which my topic deals. Moreover, the book as a whole deals with issues of wife murder in a more general sense, too, and since wife murder is what the action of Arden of Faversham accumulates to in the end, this material will doubtless be useful to me also.

I will continue to post more sources throughout the week and into next, and hopefully I can have some 13-14 sources in all to help give any interested persons a good starting place for finding material treating domestic violence and homosocial bonds in early modern England.

Paradise Lost | On Books 2 and 4

I have two things that I wish to accomplish on this blog today. The first is to briefly give my thoughts on Books 2 and 4 of Paradise Lost. This I will get to in a moment. The second is to begin my research portion of this blog, which I will do in a post to immediately follow this one.

Book 2. The thing that interested me the most about Book 2 is the portrayal of Heaven versus Hell. The most striking difference, to me, is how Hell is presented as a rapidly-developing, already-changing kingdom with an open forum for the expression of ideas and the ruling of the land. This stands in stark contrast to Heaven, which is presented as stagnant and unchanging (it always has been and always will be as it existed before, and even after Satan's fall, I didn't get the impression that anything in Heaven had really changed) and as a place ruled solely by the commands and judgments of God. This portrayal is particularly fascinating because I find myself to like the fallen angels' new Hell more than I like God's Heaven. We are shown, in Book 1, the result of God's anger at Satan and his followers (who are cast out of Heaven) as well as his forgiveness towards them (as he allows them to be free of their adamantine chains). Yet even though there are several devils in Book 2 who express anger at God and wish revenge upon him, their open forum system keeps such emotions in check and allows for calm reason to play out. And even though this reason does lead to the decision to taint God's new creations with sin, it is nevertheless a course of action decided upon by the popular majority by way of reasoned argument. Further, I have resisted saying "Satan's Hell" because I never truly get the impression that Hell is completely Satan's. He may be the most powerful of the fallen angels, and he may have been the leader of the rebellion in Heaven, but I don't get the impression that he could pull rank and veto the other fallen's suggestions for actions in favor of an unpopular suggestion of his own and have all the other fallen angels follow him regardless, as is the case (again, as I read it) with Heaven's God. I realize that much of these impressions that I have are the result of Satan and Beelzebub's dialogue and that feeling tempted by Satan and his cause is maybe an intentional reflection of how Satan and sin (i.e. evil) are tempting to man. Further, the poem may condemn this republic-like government structure in associating it with Satan and Hell, but the fact remains that Heaven is still under the dictatorial-like (as far as I can see) rule of God whereas Hell is a place wherein debate is allowed, in whatever form you may see it to be. So if it is a sin to choose Hell over Heaven on the basis that Hell seems more reason-based and fair than Heaven, where one all-powerful figure makes all decisions and requires obedience from his followers, well, I'd still choose Hell. Just sayin'.

Book 4. I have never understood the Tree of Knowledge (of Good and Evil) test which God made for Adam and Eve. God knows that Adam and Eve have the potential to break the rule God gave to them to not eat from the Tree of Knowledge--it is the human flaw which Satan capitalizes on when he observes Adam and Eve in this book--and yet he nevertheless places Adam and Eve near the tree while evil-inducing Satan is, with God's knowledge, on the loose. Why not, you know, put the pair elsewhere, if he really didn't want them to be tempted by Satan into eating from the tree? Or why didn't he keep Satan in his chains so that he wouldn't be free to bring sin into God's new world? Hm. In the end, I think that God is the true bringer of evil into the new world. He clearly demonstrates the he is aware of Satan's presence in Eden (when he presents Satan with a sign), and he also has demonstrated that he has the power to stop Satan (sending him back to Hell, either with or sans his adamantine chains), yet all he sends to Satan is an "I'm watching you" message. It's almost as though God is just using Satan as a puppet to do evil; Satan may perform the actual evil acts (though, arguably, persuading Adam and Eve to obtain a knowledge of good and evil isn't so much evil as it is an act of disobedience of God's command), but God is clearly pulling the strings. Gabriel even shows up and apprehends Satan, holding a clear advantage over Satan, but God lets him fly off anyway. I honestly cannot see Satan as a bad guy here; rather, I see him as a pawn for God's will, whether Satan sees himself as such or not.

Anyhow, research post number 1 to follow!

Paradise Lost | On Milton, Renaissance Literature, and First Impressions

Samuel Johnson, in his Lives of the Poets, once said of Milton: "Paradise Lost is one of the books which the reader admires and puts down, and forgets to take up again. None ever wished it longer than it is." I think this statement pretty much sums up the sentiments I have heard from others regarding Paradise Lost over the last several years, and as a fifth year English major, I have heard a fair number of sentiments on an equally fair number of literary works. The opinion that many of my classmates seem to have is that Paradise Lost is a work which one should read at some point, especially if one is a student of literature, though it may not be an enjoyable text, or even a text which one would like to take up again in the future. So, right from the start, I think I may be a little biased in my approach to reading Milton. However, I remember thinking, once upon a time, that Shakespeare was much the same way. "Shakespeare is 'the greatest writer of all time' and everyone should read something of his, though his work is often not enjoyable nor understandable." Yet now, however, I sincerely enjoy Shakespeare and see why he is the subject of so much study. And so, with a notion of "perhaps this won't be so bad," I set off to read Paradise Lost. Since I am hesitant to provide my analysis or any "deep" thoughts when I am only 400 lines into the poem, I hope here to simply give an overview of my first impressions.

You know, it's not so bad so far. I expected something lofty and difficult to understand, and though the invocation at the opening of Book 1 certainly attempted to be as such, I have not found the poem to be too terribly bad at all. In fact, I rather enjoyed the reading so far. Aside from the early modern word spellings, the poem reads, in my opinion, a lot like a short fantasy piece could read today. I also enjoyed the poem's focus on Satan rather than God. It's a refreshing change of pace, and I think that it's interesting to see Satan characterized as any other character might be. He expresses his worries and fears to Beelzebub at the opening of Book 1, and Beelzebub offers advice which seems to ease these anxieties. Satan is almost made human-like in this opening portrait, though this is juxtaposed with further imagery of Satan abd Beelzebub in a lake of fire where no light but only darkness is visible--a truly supernatural image. Further, I admire Satan's perseverance (another human-like quality). He has been cast from heaven, his rebellion defeated, and yet he still carries on the fight. And even though he admits that he may not overthrow God, he nevertheless aims to at least subvert some of God's authority. While I cannot yet pinpoint why, I feel as though Satan isn't so bad here. I see no blatant indication (aside from that he *is* Satan) that Satan is thoroughly and unquestionably evil. In fact, Milton's Satan, so far, puts my thoughts more in line with Twain's Satan in Letters from the Earth, if I recall correctly.

I'll post more later, when I get farther in and have more opinions on the text.

The Roaring Girl | Assorted Notes

Hi all. Brief post today. I've been thinking a bit more about The Roaring Girl, and I figured that I would use this time to simply compile my thoughts here. So without further ado, I present to you "The Assorted Musings of an English Major on The Roaring Girl":

Moll's cross-dressing enables her to have an agency that she wouldn't be able to have if she remained a woman, no? This presents the question, "Why does she dress like a woman at all, then?" After all, why would she want to give up this agency? And women in the early modern period did certainly have a lack of agency. Perhaps Moll dresses like a woman on occasion because it allows her to construct an identity for herself which she can also take advantage of. Look at her interaction with Laxton, for instance. Moll is said to be whore because she dresses as a man, yet in dressing like a woman she reminds all that she is, despite the male attire she wears sometimes, a woman. She is able to trick Laxton into thinking he is going to have sex, because she is a both a woman and a rogue, and even when she takes his money, she is acting like a rogue while her dialogue defending women presents herself as a woman, too.

I find it interesting to consider Moll as a central point in the play that bridges a variety of social constructions despite her being denounced by most of them. Moll is wealthy, though she is denounced by the aristocrats presented in the play, and she is a notorious cutpurse, though the other thieves all seem to fear her. Her existence in both spheres allows her to bridge the gap between them, yet she is not a true part of either. Similarly, Moll is "masculine" when she dresses like a man, yet the other "masculine" figures dislike her for being so. Yet when Moll presents herself as "feminine," not only do the other women of the play seem uneasy around her, but the men still denounce her. Moll assumes this awkward space in the play where she exists in all the spheres constructed therein, yet never completely so.

Also, Sebastian and Mary's marriage at the end of the play is thought by some to be an "ideal" wedding. But I have a problem with this thought. Why should we possibly think that their marriage will be ideal when it is surrounded (in the play) by other marriages in which deception and manipulation are commonplace? Further on this point, doesn't Sebastian and Mary's wedding embody this deception and manipulation already? In the opening of the play, Sebastian is only able to see Mary because she is disguised, and the only reason they are able to get married at the end is because of the marriage trick which is performed. I simply cannot think that their marriage will be ideal but rather think that it will continue to embody these ideas of deception and manipulation so that it eventually degrades into a similar state as the other marriages within the play.

Finally, I would like to turn to Moll as she is presented at the end of the play. It has been pointed out that Moll arguably embodies here the epitome of femininity; she is dressed as a bride, which is perhaps the most clearly feminine outfit and the most clearly feminine role a woman may have. Does this scene not undermine all that Moll has railed against throughout the play? She has railed against prostitution and the subjection of women, in particular, but can't both of these be seen at the end of the play? By playing along with Sebastian's plot, she is allowing herself--more specifically, her body, for she displays herself as a woman for all to see--to be prostituted for Sebastian's sake. Further, in playing the bride, she is stepping into a gender that was supposed to be very subordinate to the male sex. And even if it is just an act, only Sebastian, Mary, and Moll know this; the rest of society sees her as his bride, and thus his subordinate. And since there is no costume change (presumably) before the epilogue, this is the last way we see Moll. I must think, then, that in the end she allows herself, whether she realizes so or not, to be made into the very thing which she clearly does not want to become--a subordinate, objectified woman. And that, I think, makes the play a tragic one. Who cares about Sebastian and Mary? They are absent for most the play. Moll is not, and she becomes a very tragic figure in my eyes.

Just some things to think on. Night.

The Roaring Girl | On Moll and Her Characterization

In regarding all of the works discussed thus far, I must say that Moll, of Middleton and Dekker's The Roaring Girl, has to be my favorite character. I love that she has a "I'm going to do what I want, how I want, regardless of your social constraints" attitude and that she is able to turn these social constraints (of which she seems to have a very acute awareness, despite her disregard of them) to her advantage. As for the first point, for instance, Moll is first described to the audience (by the gentlemen in act 1) as wearing male clothing, smoking tobacco, and getting into brawls, all of which are very "manly" characteristics. In this way, she goes against the social norm and instead adopts her own way of life which doesn't bend to these norms. Yet this is not a simple reversal of traditional gender roles. When we first see Moll, she is wearing a riding skirt with her male-fashion jacket, and a skirt is (at least, I think) a very feminine piece of clothing. Thus she is clearly still acknowledging that she is a woman at the same time that she chooses to dress, sometimes, as a man rather than simply dressing and acting like a man in every aspect of her life. And I think this specific point is what I like so much about her. In doing this, Moll demonstrates that she is not going against the social norms just for the sake of going against the social norms. Instead, her living and acting the way she wants happens to go against these social norms sometimes while other times they cause no problem.

As for the second point, Moll demonstrates that, while she certainly does display a disinterest in conforming to societal norms, she is nevertheless aware of what these expectations by society are. For instance, look at the scene wherein Laxton propositions Moll (in 2.1). Laxton describes his raunchy fantasy about Moll, wherein which we may certainly suspect that he is working under the impression that because Moll dresses like a man, she must be loose (sexually), and asks her to spend the evening with him. Moll accepts his proposal, yet when she and Laxton rendezvous later that evening, she attacks him for having such expectations of her and takes his money. Thus she plays along with Laxton's (society's) expectations of what the evening will entail, only then to rebuke him and take his coin. Which is brilliant!

It is both of these dualities which I think makes Moll a favorite character for me. She lives how she wants, following some social norms while going against others, and she displays a disregard for social norms and expectations at the same time that she displays an acute awareness of these society's views. I think that this gives Moll a certain depth to her character that would be missing if she, for instance, constantly and completely went against societal norms or if she acted independently of society's expectations while failing to show that she knew what these expectations are. And while these dualities are certainly present, to at least some extent, in several of the characters from previous works discussed, Moll certainly seems to me to be the strongest, most likeable, and most real.

Research Topic: Homosociality and Marital Anxiety in Renaissance Literature

We have discussed, briefly, the homosocial relationship between Arden and Franklin in Arden of Faversham. It interests me greatly that, though he suspects that Alice is cheating on him, Arden nonetheless seems content to spend his time with Franklin and leave Alice to her own devices. Further on this point, though Arden initially expresses outrage at Mosby for pursuing Alice behind his back (or at least, this is what he suspects), Arden nevertheless believes Mosby when he tells Arden that he is not (even though he is). Further, Arden mentions that he once saw Mosby with Arden's own wedding ring, though he does not act on this knowledge.

For my research, I would like to explore how homosocial relationships interact with heterosexual marriages in early modern English drama. While the focus of my paper will of course be Arden of Faversham, I think that it would also be prudent to pull in Shakespeare's Othello as well, since both plays are closely related: the titular characters of both plays show that they are pressured by societal concerns (social status in Arden's case, racism [and thus also social status] in Othello's); both characters demonstrate a close, homosocial bond within the play (Arden with Franklin, Othello with Cassio); and both plays end in tragedy/domestic violence. While the circumstances are different between the two plays, close homosocial bonds and innate trust in this bond facilitates a show of domestic violence. Also, while Arden of Faversham is based on historical events and is thus somewhat difficult to critique, Franklin is an addition by the anonymous author. This addition of Franklin seems to call for the need to analyze his function within the text.

Some primary sources on the topic include:

Bacon, Francis. "Of Friendship." The Essays of Francis Bacon. Forgotten Books, 2008. Google Books. Web. 20 Oct. 2011.

Brathwait, Richard. The English Gentleman.

Montaigne, Michel de. "Of Friendship." Montaigne’s Essays, in Three Books. Trans. Charles Cotton. London: n.p., 1743. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Web. 30 Apr. 2011.

**All three of these sources discuss, to some extent or another, homosociality/male friendship within the context of the early modern time period. As this is a central aspect of my topic, I think these would make great primary sources from which to draw in writing my paper.

Some related secondary sources include:

Bach, Rebecca A. Shakespeare and Renaissance Literature Before Heterosexuality. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. Print.

Boose, Lynda. “Othello’s Handkerchief: ‘The Recognizance and Pledge of Love.’” Critical Essays on Shakespeare’s Othello. Ed. Anthony Gerard Barthelemy. New York: G. K. Hall, 1994. 55-67. Print.

Danson, Lawrence. “‘The Catastrophe is a Nuptial’: The Space of Masculine Desire in Othello, Cymbeline, and The Winter’s Tale.” Shakespeare Survey: An Annual Survey of Shakespeare Studies and Production. Ed. Stanley Wells. Vol. 46.  Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1994. 69-80. Print.

Fletcher, Anthony. Gender, Sex, and Subordination in England 1500-1800. London: Yale UP, 1995. Print.

MacFaul, Tom. Male Friendship in Shakespeare and His Contemporaries. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Print.

Masten, Jeffrey. Textual Intercourse: Collaboration, Authorship, and Sexualities in Renaissance Drama. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Print.

Matz, Robert. “Slander, Renaissance Discourses of Sodomy, and Othello.” ELH 66.2 (1999): 261-276. Print.

Österberg, Eva. Friendship and Love, Ethics and Politics: Studies in Mediaeval and Early Modern History. Budapest: Central European University Press, 2010. Print.

Walker, Garthine. Crime, Gender and Social Order in Early Modern England. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. Print.

**I realize that the most noticeable gap in my scholarship is that I have nothing dealing with Arden of Faversham specifically. I am finding it difficult to find sources treating this topic in this text, though the play certainly lends itself to such analysis. As I am aware that such scholarship would be greatly beneficial to my paper, I will continue to search for sources to fill this gap.

**Boose, Danson, and Matz all treat the subject of marital anxiety, male friendship, and domestic violence in Othello. Fletcher and Walker treat the subject of domestic violence in early modern England. Bach, MacFaul, Masten all treat the subject of male friendship in Renaissance literature and drama, which is no doubt be essential to my research. While I have yet to read Österberg's work, it seems that this would be a decent supplement to the works of Bach, MacFaul, and Masten.

Witch of Edmonton | On "Gender Instability" and Connections to Other Renaissance Texts

This weekend, I attended the 6th Annual Meeting in the Middle Medieval (and Renaissance) Conference at Longwood University in Farmville, Virginia. And yes, I did think, "There's not really a place called Farmville," when I first saw the town in which the university was located. But there is; true fact. Anyhow, while I was there, I was able to hear a wonderful presentation by Caden John Campbell, an undergraduate at Sweet Briar College, who presented on the idea of "gender instability," particularly in The Witch of Edmonton.

Gender instability, which was (or perhaps is, I do not know how Campbell would discuss the modern world in response to this terming) the result of a conflict of gender between how one appears and how one acts, leads to the idea of monstrosity. That is, in essence, if a women appears like a woman, yet acts like a man, or if a woman has both masculine and feminine characteristics, yet looks mostly like a man and acts mostly like a woman, she is considered monstrous. In the presentation, Campbell discussed how the witch of Edmonton, Elizabeth Sawyer, appears, at first, like a woman, particularly through her dress. Campbell provided this depiction of Sawyer, noting how she wears a dress and hat typically worn by women during the time:

Yet, Campbell argued, since the heat of a man was thought to turn blood into semen, and since the devil was said to suck blood from Sawyer, Sawyer is thus acting in a masculine fashion. Also, Sawyer was described as having a teat (see bottom of p.6, The Wonderfull Discouerie of Elizabeth Sawyer), from which milk is typically drawn and thus a feminine feature. Yet the feature is also somewhat phallic by nature, and, again, was how the devil was said to suck Sawyer's blood. Thus, Campbell argued, Sawyer was both male and female, and this duality composes her gender instability and thus made her monstrous.

Now, the point of this post is not to restate Campbell's presentation. Instead, I would like to go back and explore the pieces previously mentioned in this blog to examine where we might find cases of such gender instability. The last play mentioned was Arden of Faversham. Certainly, in this play we find a woman (Alice) acting with agency. But is she acting like a man? I would argue that she transforms into a man at the end of her play, and thus transforms into Campbell's idea of the monstrous. Poison was typically a woman's weapon in cases of domestic violence during the early modern period. And this, tellingly enough, is Alice's weapon of choice for killing Arden in the beginning of the play. Yet when the poison is unsuccessful, Alice must take more drastic measures. In the end, both Black Will and Mosby stab Arden (a more masculine action), though they do not kill him. Alice then demands the knife (a phallic image in its own right) and kills Arden with it. Alice, then, while still appearing and acting as a wife (albeit an unhappy one) also acts as a man, and thus she is both man and woman at one time. And thus she becomes monstrous.

In The Duchess of Malfi we again see gender instability. The Duchess clearly looks like a woman, yet she, within the first several scenes of the play, already displays masculine behavior, as she asks Antonio to marry her, which is typically a role which is performed by men. Already then, she enters into the realm of the monstrous. But here I must admit that I am unsure if the Duchess is truly monstrous, for after this display of masculine behavior, she slips into the role of mother, bearing three children throughout the course of the play. Perhaps, then, the Duchess only lapses briefly into an instance of gender instability that is not permanent nor enough to define her as a monstrous figure, as I certainly did not consider her to be so when I read the play.

Campbell, in this presentation, noted that it was generally more acceptable for a man to act like a woman than vice versa, and thus gender instability is a term which is difficult to apply to men, if it may be done so at all. Thus I shall not comment upon Doctor Faustus, a play wherein women are suspiciously absent. I was going to say that The Faerie Queene also lacks instances of gender instability, as I cannot think of any good instances within the work off the top of my head, but it seems to me that something may be made of Duessa, though perhaps not. I will have to consider this further (when I have more time to do so).

As a final note, I would like to reiterate that Campbell's presentation was absolutely brilliant and that any mention of gender instability that I have made in this post owes much credit to Campbell for explaining the terminology and demonstrating where it might be seen within The Witch of Edmonton.

Witch of Edmonton | On Social and Domestic Affairs

It strikes me that, in several of the plays covered thus far (The Duchess of Malfi and Arden of Faversham most notably), social affairs and domestic affairs seem to play into each other quite extensively. For instance, in The Duchess of Malfi, the Duchess's brothers (though specifically Ferdinand) do not want the Duchess to remarry, since Ferdinand would benefit from her death if she had died a widow but not if she had died a married woman (since Antonio would benefit instead). Further, the Duchess seems to marry Antonio at least partly out of spite of her brothers, but regardless, she is forced to maintain secrecy about the marriage since society seems to play a major role in shaping her reputation. And in Arden of Faversham, not only does the affair between Alice and Mosby (and thus also the cuckolding of Arden) spread outside the domestic sphere and into the societal gaze, but so does the resulting series of events that eventually leads to Arden's death.

We see this intermingling of societal and domestic spheres in The Witch of Edmonton, too. Frank marries Winnifried before the opening of the play, yet Sir Arthur Clarington immediately pries into the matter, noting that Frank has "wronged thy master's house basely and lewdly" (1.1.77) by getting Winnifried pregnant. Frank's father (Old Thorney) wants Frank to marry the daughter of a wealthy yeoman, not because that's what Frank wants to do, but because that's what Old Thorney would benefit the most from. Further, when Old Thorney catches news that Frank may have married a fellow servant, he immediately berates Frank for his actions (again, because Old Thorney wanted Frank to marry Susan). And Speaking of Susan, Old Carter doesn't want Susan (his daughter) to marry Warbeck, presumably because Warbeck lacks a social status that Old Carter may benefit from, whereas Old Carter may benefit from Susan's marriage to Frank.

Though I have yet to get very far in the text, this is one thing that was immediately obvious to me. And since this is something which appears in several of the previously noted plays, I figured that it was worth mentioning. I imagine that this will continue throughout the rest of the play, too, so I hope to comment more within the next week or two.

Arden of Faversham | On Late Posts and Domestic Violence

First, two things. 1) I had this crazy notion in my head that I was not supposed to make a post the week I present in class, even though there was nothing to make me think that was the case. Not one of my better moments, that. 2) Here's a post for last week anyway, for your reading enjoyment.

So, the Arden of Feversham. I'm going to relate this to my presentation on domestic violence in early modern England, but I ask that you forgive me for not citing my sources. The books I used are all sitting in the library's stack of returns, and all I have to go off of is my presentation notes. Again, one of my less brilliant moments. Anyhow. It strikes me that I fail to see Arden as an instigator of violence in the play, while Alice obviously is. Unless, of course, you see Alice's marriage to Arden while she truly loves Mosby a justifiable reason to commit murder. Much of the domestic violence which occurred in early modern England was provoked by a woman's behavior in the household (a husband could beat his wife if she did anything that was not to his liking, and the severity of the abuse often reflected how great of an error the man thought the woman had made. And Arden certainly knows that Alice is cheating on him. He suspects it in the very beginning, and it remains, at the very least, a suspicion throughout the play. Yet Arden doesn't seem to think violence towards her. In fact, he dismisses his wife's adulterous behavior in the play's opening; when Franklin states, "It is not strange / That women will be false and wavering" (1.20-21), Arden responds, "Ay, but to dote on one as he / Is monstrous, Franklin, and intolerable" (1.22-23).

Instead, the focus of Arden's ire is Mosby. He loathes Mosby. Or rather, he loathes that his wife is cheating on him with Mosby. Yet the violence which Arden wishes upon Mosby remains contained to the domestic landscape:

And that injurious ribald that attempts

To violate my dear wife's chastity--

For dear I hold her love, as dear as heaven--

Shall on the bed which he thinks to defile

See his dissevered joints and sinews torn,

Whilst on the planchers pants his weary body.

Smeared in the channels of his lustful blood" (1.37-43)

The play is almost neat and tidy in this way. In the beginning, the potential murders are confined to the house. Arden wants to kill Mosby in the bedroom. Mosby wants to kill Arden with a poisoned painting in the house. Alice tries to kill Arden with a poisoned meal (why does Franklin carry an antidote around with him?). However, the more the murder plot spreads, the messier it gets. Greene is convinced to murder Arden, and Black Will and Shakebag are hired by Greene. And then Michael gets in on the murder schemes. And each time it spreads farther from the house and to someone new, the attempts become less neat, less precise, and in the end, everyone is caught.

Does this play condone household violence while condemning violence which spreads outside the domestic landscape? Perhaps. Certainly, Franklin seems to think, by his offhand comment about women, that a husband should exercise the right to keep his wife in line. His methods prove to be roundabout, but I cannot shake the notion that he seems to think that Arden's dismissal of his wife's guilt is a mistake. Yet as soon as the violence spreads out of the house, everything goes awry, and it enters a realm where the violence is not permitted to any extent. Hm.

Also, a side note. Alice is traditionally, in literature, a name given to adulterous, or at least openly sexually active women, no? I am thinking in particular of Chaucer's The Miller's Tale and The Wife of Bath's Prologue. There is great significance in the naming of Alice in this play, then, yes?

The Duchess of Malfi | On General Thoughts Regarding the Play and Its Ending

As I finish reading The Duchess of Malfi, I cannot help but think that this play has become more and more absurd as it has progressed. In the opening act everything seems as well as it should: Antonio has returned from France and is conveying his observations of the French court to Delio, Delio wants Antonio to put him in the Cardinal's good graces, the Cardinal is managing his underlings (i.e. Bosola), Ferdinand is acting as a man of power, and the Duchess is acting as, well, a duchess. There's nothing that indicates that this play is anything other than a story whose setting and plot will be filled with political intrigue. And when the Duchess rather suddenly marries her steward, Antonio, this initial notion seems to be confirmed. I thought nothing other than, "Well, this ought to shake things up some." In fact, when Ferdinand and the Cardinal make it clear to the Duchess that she should not remarry, I only saw this as a way to set up more political craftiness. "Ferdinand and the Cardinal are interfering in their sister's life as a way of protecting their own reputation and social status or something of the like," I thought, and also, "Oh, now The Duchess has married her steward to slight her brothers." And I suppose, in looking back, that this isn't too far off the mark.

I still think that part of the reason the Duchess married Antonio is to slight her brothers. Sure, she may have had an emotional attachment to him before Ferdinand and the Cardinal began to interfere, but, judging by Antonio's response to the Duchess's marriage proposal, she had made absolutely no indication of the sort (or Antonio is simply missed all the signs, which may be equally likely--he doesn't seem to be the brightest by any measure). I also think that much of this play is concerned with political intrigue. The Duchess is all too aware of what will happen, in the political spectrum, if her brothers or her subjects find out that she has married her steward. Part of the suspense for the play does stem from the notion of, "What will happen to the Duchess and Antonio if their marriage is discovered?"

Even at this point in the play I had yet to think, "Mm, yes. This play is certainly obsessed with the female body and female sexuality," or, "Quite right. This play is indeed hung up on Ferdinand's incestuous, perhaps even madman-like, behavior." Sure, the play does certainly explore these topics, but, again, it all seemed to fit within the scope of a story of political scandal. It seemed to me that this play was still grounded in reality, and nothing had strayed so far from the norm that I it made me think, "Well, that is significantly unusual." The Duchess and Antonio are banished; this is maybe a little bit of an overreaction by Ferdinand and the Cardinal, but then again, the Duchess did commit taboo by marrying her steward, so I guess it could be a reasonable punishment. Perhaps.

And then Act IV rolled around. "Oh, the Duchess is imprisoned? And it's Ferdinand's doing? What, was exile not enough? Maybe Ferdinand is a bit odd." And then Ferdinand gives his sister the hand of a dead man. And that's just not necessary. While I may have had doubts about Ferdinand's mental stability up until this point, lurking in the back of my mind but largely ignored because of the plausibility of the scenes so far, it was at this point that I stopped reading, backtracked a few lines, and went, "Wait. What? He gave her what?" And thus begins the roller coaster of "What the hell"s that characterized the rest of the play for me: "Of course Ferdinand made 'artificial figures' of Antonio and his children. Why didn't I see that coming?"; "Ah, Antonio is using madmen to torture his sister. Classic punishment, am I right?"; "All Ferdinand wanted was to guarantee that he received the fortune that belonged to his sister after her death. It's perfectly normal that he went to all this effort to kill her now."

And so, with the Duchess and her maid dead, we move into the fifth and final act of the play. Now Ferdinand is mad (insane) and is believed to have lycanthropia, Antonio hears the voice of his wife coming from his wife's tomb, and then everyone dies (though, admittedly, I expected this last point simply from the title of the play, The Tragedy of the Duchess of Malfi). This last act seems much more quick-paced than the rest of the play, as if everyone left alive at this point is rushing to their inevitable deaths, which I would argue emphasizes how quickly the entirety of the action of the play, as a whole, has spiraled out of control. Everything builds until the middle of Act III, whereafter the resolution slowly unfolds, then quickens through Act IV, and then bullets through the final scene of Act V.

We have talked in class about how the play is obsessed with the female body and with female sexuality, about how the play explores the question, "What would have happened if Elizabeth had married," and about how the play seems to posture as a play about politics in its opening yet quickly turn into a play about family matters, and with all these opinions I will readily concur. Yet, to me, these points are compartmentalized within the play: the obsession with the female body and female sexuality lasts only until the marriage between Antonio and the Duchess is discovered (or perhaps until the Duchess is killed), the speculating about Elizabeth lasts only until the Duchess is killed (since the "Elizabeth" figure is dead and the fallout seems to no longer be grounded in reality), and the play being about family again seems to dissolve, for the most part, after the Duchess's death. Instead, I think the play is a demonstration of how quickly things can spiral out of control. From the very moment that the Cardinal and Bosola enter in Act I, scene i, it seems obvious that there is going to be conflict. And there is, continually throughout the play. And this conflict, which seems to merely concern two overbearing brothers and their sister, very quickly (especially after the close of Act III) turns into a play about murder and madness. And that, to me, is the true warning this play conveys.

The Duchess of Malfi | On the Names (or Lack Thereof) of Characters

The next text on which I will focus is John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi. In today's post, I would like to briefly address one question that occurred to me while reading through the first two acts + one scene of the play: why, of all the characters in the play, is the Duchess simply "Duchess" and the Cardinal simply "Cardinal" while Ferdinand, Antonio, Bosola, and even the somewhat insignificant Duchess's lady Cariola are all named characters?

In response to this, I would argue that the Duchess and the Cardinal are named simply as such because any other role they might become during the course of the play is viewed in relation to their role as the Duchess or the Cardinal. For instance, the first time we encounter the Duchess, her role as a widow is being discussed by Ferdinand and the Cardinal. Yet this role is only being discussed because if she decides to remarry, it could reflect poorly on her position as the Duchess of Malfi. Her brother Ferdinand reminds her that she is a person of court, where there are those who would take advantage of her and where another marriage may taint her status (1.3.15-17). Even when Ferdinand tells the Duchess that his concern is so strong because she is his sister (1.3.37), the greater is concern is that she will be courted not because she is his sister, but rather because she is a duchess. In another instance, when the Duchess proposes to Antonio, Antonio states that he feels unworthy of the status which the Duchess is raising him up to. Even at the level of reading the text, the Duchess' status as "duchess" precedes all else; the tag "Duchess" comes before any line she speaks. The predicament which the Duchess winds up in is the result of her status as a duchess, and Webster is not going to let us forget that. We, the audience, cannot truly connect to the Duchess as a widow, or as a wife, or as a sister, or even as just a woman because she will always be, first and foremost, the Duchess of Malfi.

The Cardinal is in a similar position. In the opening scene, Delio asks about the Cardinal, asking whether he is brave, whether he likes to bet, whether he courts ladies, and whether he partakes in combat. Yet Antonio, in his answer to Delio, says, "Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman" (1.2.66-67). He may seem to be many things, but the core identity of the Cardinal is his position as a cardinal. Antonio describes him in more detail following, but, like the Duchess, everything that follows is a merely secondary to the Cardinal's position as a churchman.

Whether or not this trend will remain as the play progresses, I am not sure. However, prior to act 3, scene 2, this seems to be the case. It may be said the Duchess is a strong and independent character and also a strong and independent woman since she refuses to be governed by anything but her own desires and refuses to be held back by social constraints and taboos. I would agree with this, and even more so when I consider that she is operating out the undefined identity of "Duchess." Whereas Ferdinand becomes the man Ferdinand with all his unique characterization, the Duchess will forever remain just "the Duchess."

The Faerie Queene | On National Identity and Leisurely Reading

It has recently struck me that I classify "pleasure reading" and "class reading" in two disjoint categories. While I do enjoy reading the works of Shakespeare and other Renaissance authors, for instance, these are not the texts that I immediately go to when I think, "I would like to read something." There is always that part of me that says, "Huh, there seems to be an obvious connection between this work and other contemporary works of the time!" or "Ah, yes, this does (or perhaps does not) reflect the societal norms of 17th century England quite well!" I am always looking for that think that would make a brilliant paper, even if I set out to read solely for the sake of reading. Perhaps because they are held to a different standard than other works (and they are, undoubtedly, held to a different standard), I do this with any works that fall into the "established literary canon," since that is what, as an English major, I have been trained to do.

That said, I would venture to say that Spencer's The Faerie Queene is the closest I have come to being able to read a "classic" and "important" work without over-analyzing it. There are times where I have been more eager to find out what happens to Una and the Lion, for instance ("Is it gonna eat her?"; "Where will they go next?"), than to think, "What does the lion symbolize in this context?" or "What societal commentary is being made by pairing the Lion with Una in this passage?" It has been a refreshing change of pace, and it has been nice to read a text with minimal pressure to determine why it is such a deeply-rooted part of the established literary canon and a staple Renaissance work.

And with that said, I do still feel obligated to give a thought-out and more in-depth post on The Faerie Queene. So let's talk about English nationalism. While a decidedly "English" national identity had already begun to form by the time that Elizabeth I took the throne, the defeat of the Spanish armada in the mid-late 1500s (if I recall correctly) truly cemented this idea of "Englishness." It would be unsurprising then, to find instances of English nationalism in Spencer's work (published in the late 1500s), and so I would like to turn to Chaucer and Arthur. If I were to ask who the top five quintessential English writers were, I have no doubt that Chaucer would be a recurring answer, even more so if the question addressed only authors contemporary to or older than Spencer. And so when Spencer writes in his pseudo-middle-English and in a way which bears many similarities to Chaucer's The Tale of Sir Thopas (I discussed this briefly in my last post), I cannot help but think that Spencer is drawing a connection between himself, an English writer during this period of growing nationalism, and one of the greatest writers in English history, Chaucer, as an expression of English nationalism. What better way to express this nationalism than by honoring one of the greatest English writers through your own work? This can also be seen in works such as Shakespeare's The Two Noble Kinsmen, though I will not get into that here.

Another instance of nationalism is the portrayal of Arthur in The Faerie Queene. Arthur is arguably one of the most well-known English heroes (whether he is a mythical or historical figure makes no difference), and so making him the hero who rescues the main character Redcrosse is a very "English" thing to do. Arthur, the English hero, saves the day; England is righteous, powerful, and just. Spencer could hardly portray England in a better light than by portraying Arthur this way in his work. Further, it is a common interpretation that Arthur, in TFQ, is portrayed as a very Christ-like figure. While Arthur has an obvious connection with religion in many of the tales in which he appears, making Arthur himself a Christ-like figure further elevates Arthur's status as a hero and as a symbol of English identity. Thus, it seems evident to me that Spencer and The Faerie Queene are both clearly involved with the rise and cementation of English nationalism. I am sure there are more instances of this throughout TFQ, but these are the two that jumped out at me while reading.

Until next time.

The Faerie Queen | On Shifting Symbolism and Throwbacks to Chaucer

Right, moving away from Doctor Faustus, the next text on which I would like to focus is Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queen. The first thing I noted about this piece was how easy it is to recognize. When I was preparing for the GRE in English Literature, it was strongly recommended that I familiarize myself with The Faerie Queen, as this was a staple text within Renaissance literature. This I absolutely could not be bothered to do at the time, since the work is relatively long and because Renaissance literature composes a less significant portion of the exam than modern English and American literature, with which I am easily the least familiar. However, between the Spenserian stanza verse form, created by Spenser for this piece, and the intentionally middle-English-looking spelling within the work, it was among the easiest to identify whenever it came up. Anyhow, now that I have begun to actually read the work, there are two things of which I would like to make mention.

The shifting symbolism in The Faerie Queen is both intriguing and infuriating. Whereas a piece of symbolism is consistent from once place to another in many pieces of literature, something in The Faerie Queen may symbolize one thing in one instance and yet either something completely different or nothing at all in another. The inconsistency of this is somewhat off-putting at first, but it also keeps the reader on their toes. I find myself forced to interpret each stanza both on its own and in context with the rest of the story. Meaning within The Faerie Queen is thus fluid, adding an extra layer of significance to the text and necessitating varying levels of interpretation, a complexity that I have found in few other texts.

Regarding the middle-English-like language of The Faerie Queen, I cannot help but notice that Spenser's work (judging exclusively from the first few cantos of the first book, it is important to note) is quite similar to The Tale of Sir Thopas, which Chaucer-the-pilgrim tells in Chaucer's (the author) The Canterbury Tales. Specifically, the two stories both include a land of fairies and elves and a main character who is a noble and chivalrous yet perhaps also rash and naive, and though The Tale of Sir Thopas is interrupted by the Host in The Canterbury Tales and is thus incomplete, I nevertheless see a connection between the two. Perhaps The Faerie Queen is an embellishment upon or a continuation of The Tale of Sir Thopas, with some changes. Just a thought.

I realize that this is post is brief, but since I am not too far into the text, I find that I have relatively little to say. More next time.

________________________

Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely

Each one demand and answer to his part

Performed in this wide gap of time since first

We were discovered. Hastily lead away.

--from Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale

Doctor Faustus | On the A-text, the B-text, and Their Differing Endings

The A-text and B-text of Doctor Faustus have many notable differences, with one of them being the play's ending. In this post, I would like to lay out my interpretations of both of these endings and discuss the dissimilarities between them that produce these differing interpretations.

The first difference between the A-text and B-text is the introduction of Mephistopheles, Beelzebub, and Lucifer at the opening of the final scene:

Thunder. Enter Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mephistophilis.

Lucif.
Thus from infernal Dis do we ascend
To view the subjects of our monarchy,
Those souls which sin seals the black sons of hell,
'Mong which as chief, Faustus, we come to thee,
Bringing with us lasting damnation,
To wait upon thy soul. The time is come
Which makes it forfeit.

Meph.
And this gloomy night,
Here in this room will wretched Faustus be.

Bels.
And here we'll stay,
To mark him how he doth demean himself.

Meph.
How should he, but in desperate lunacy?
Fond worldling, now his heart blood dries with grief;
His conscience kills it, and his labouring brain
Begets a world of idle fantasies
To overreach the devil, but all in vain.
His store of pleasures must be sauced with pain.
He and his servant Wagner are at hand.
Both come from drawing Faustus' latest will.
See where they come. Enter Faustus and Wagner.

The introduction of these devils at the beginning of the scene rather than at the end (as it is in the A-text) gives this scene a much stronger feeling of inevitability in the B-text. Notice that the devils never leave the stage but instead remain upon it when Faustus and Wagner enter. While it is made clear that the devils are supposed to be waiting for Faustus in a room other than the one in which he enters, the audience would nevertheless be able to see both the devils and Faustus on stage at the same time, giving the impression that the devils are always watching Faustus as he prepares to meet them. Further, this gives the devils a much stronger presence in the scene. Not only are they always watching over Faustus, but they are literally and figuratively in the background of everything that happens throughout the scene. The devils share the stage with Faustus, likely farther backstage than Faustus since Faustus has the speaking role and is supposed to be in a different room than the devils, as he tells the scholars how he is damned to hell because he has sold his soul to the devil. While the presence of the devils in the A-text is minimal and the ending ambiguous, the presence of the devils here, to me, makes it clear that Faustus is truly damned.

Next, there is the brief exchange between Faustus and Wagner regarding Faustus's will:

Faust.
Say, Wagner, thou hast perused my will;
How dost thou like it?

Wag.
Sir, so wondrous well,
As in all humble duty, I do yield
My life and lasting service for your love.

Enter the Scholars.

Faust.
Gramercies, Wagner. Welcome, gentlemen.

While many would pass over this as being inconsequential, I would argue that it shows Faust as being more resigned to his inevitable damnation. In the A-text, Faustus gives no indication that he has accepted his fate at all; instead, the most I can say is that he seems relatively calm as he speaks with the three scholars. This scene in the B-text, however, shows that Faustus has thought about what will happen after he goes to hell as he takes the time to draw up a will and run it past his assistant Wagner.

Finally, there is the appearance of the good and bad angel just before Faustus is taken to hell:

Enter the Good Angel and the Evil Angel at
several doors.

Good.
Oh Faustus, if thou had'st given ear to me,
Innumerable joys had followed thee.
But thou did'st love the world.

Bad.
Gave ear to me,
And now must taste hell's pains perpetually.

Good.
O, what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps,
Avail thee now?

Bad.
Nothing but vex thee more,
To want in hell, that had on earth such store.

Music while the throne descends.

Good.
O, thou hast lost celestial happiness,
Pleasures unspeakable, bliss without end.
Had'st thou affected sweet divinity,
Hell, or the Devil, had had no power on thee.
Had'st thou kept on that way, Faustus behold
In what resplendent glory thou had'st set
In yonder throne, like those bright shining Saints,
And triumphed over hell. That hast thou lost,
And now poor soul must thy good angel leave thee.
The jaws of hell are open to receive thee. Exit.

Hell is discovered.

Bad.
Now, Faustus, let shine eyes with horror stare
Into that vast perpetual torture-house.
There are the Furies tossing damned souls
On burning forks; their bodies broil in lead.
There are live quarters broiling on the coals,
That ne'er can die. This ever-burning chair
Is for o'er-tortured souls to rest them in.
These, that are fed with sops of flaming fire,
Were gluttons, and loved only delicates,
And laughed to see the poor starve at their gates.
But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see
Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be.

Faust.
O, I have seen enough to torture me.

Bad
Nay, thou must feel them, taste the smart of all.
He that loves pleasure must for pleasure fall.
And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon.
Then wilt thou tumble in confusion. Exit.

As I mentioned previously, the ending of the A-text may be read as slightly ambiguous about whether or not Faustus is actually damned to hell or is saved at the last minute. This addition to the B-text makes the ending less ambiguous, as the good angel, instead of offering salvation as he had done previously, now chastises Faustus for his decision to sell his soul to the devil while the bad anger torments Faustus with visions of the hell that he will spend eternity in. This ambiguity is further dissolved in the B-text with the addition of a scene after the one in which Faustus is seemingly dragged to hell:

Scene 13

Enter the Scholars.

1
Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus,
For such a dreadful night was never seen,
Since first the world's creation did begin.
Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard.
Pray heaven the Doctor have escaped the danger.

O help us heaven! See, here are Faustus' limbs,
All torn asunder by the hand of death.

3
The devils whom Faustus served have torn him thus;
For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, me thought
I heard him shriek and call aloud for help,
At which self time the house seemed all on fire
With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.

2
Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be such
As every Christian heart laments to think on,
Yet for he was a scholar, once admired
For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,
We'll give his mangled limbs due burial.
And all the students clothed in mourning black
Shall wait upon his heavy funeral.

Faustus, then, has been torn asunder, and his end is "such as every Christian heart laments to think on." If I was not convinced that Faustus was damned and dragged to hell after reading the A-text, I certainly would be after reading the B-text.