My Mind

A series of essays/ conceptual ideas from a girl who is fascinated by Language and Culture.

[indiasessays]

Discussing the agency of the female characters in Jane Lumley's translation of the tragedy of Euripides; Iphigeneia.

The Greek tragedy Iphigeneia1 originally written by Euripides, tells the story of heroism through the self-sacrifice of its protagonist, Iphigeneia. In 1557, Jane Lumley, daughter of Henry Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, translated the play into English. Though a Tudor translation may seem outdated to a contemporary audience, when compared to the Ancient Greek original, it becomes an innovative social commentary2. Lumley’s choice to undertake this translation was not coincidental; there are many parallels between the play and her own life, reflecting her Renaissance concerns about gendered constraints and agency3. Iphigeneia, Clytemnestra andthe female chorus constitute three of the play’s eight speakers4, giving the play a strong female presence. While modern audiences may interpret these character’s words and actions as authoritative, this essay explores whether they truly possess agency or are merely victims of patriarchy, under the illusion of being in control themselves. Furthermore, it examines Lumley’s changes to the original to underpin her ideas about patriarchy, gender roles and female agency.

Before discussing female agency in the play, it is essential to define it. Mishra and Tripathi argue that women’s agency is only operative when it results in a fundamental shift in societal perceptions5. To assess female agency in the play, it must be compared to male agency, particularly that of Agamemnon.

Within the play, Iphigeneia undergoes a great transformation from a passive victim to an active participant in her fate6. By the end of the play, she appears to make an autonomous decision about her death7. Initially, Iphigeneia is characterised by her name, with decisions made on her

behalf: her sacrifice and her marriage.8 The audience does not meet Iphigeneia until later, despite having heard about her numerous times, positioning her as a pawn in a male dominated world. As the play progresses, Iphigeneia occasionally challenges her father9 and questions his authority with sarcasm, voicing scepticism of the patriarchal system which controls her.10 In one instance, she wittily asks him if she should be more “folisshe” to please him,11 showcasing Lumley’s critique of political strategy,12 and the idea that girls are valued more if they are naïve. Yet, in Iphigeneia’s later conversation with her Mother, she accepts her fate, stating “do you not think it to be better that I should die than that so many noble men be let of their journey for one woman’s sake?”13 Here, Iphigeneia aligns herself with utilitarianism: prioritising the majority over herself.14 Iphigeneia’s question to her mother could be interpreted as irony,15 using language of her oppressors to reclaim the power over her fate. However, she is simply reiterating the justification previously provided by Agamemnon: “She is compelled to do it for the wealth and honour of Greece.”16 Furthermore, the last half of this question also suggests internalised misogyny, as she devalues her life compared to men’s.17 She ultimately steps forward to accept her sacrifice as heroically as the Greek heroes around her.18 This reflects Marx’s ‘false consciousness’, whereby a ‘conscious’ ideology is an ideology which constitutes to suppress.19 Iphigeneia’s ‘autonomous’ choice to sacrifice herself is a false

onsciousness, as she was conditioned into believing her sacrifice was necessary. It is not just Iphigeneia who undergoes this brainwashing: many of the male characters do not understand the reasoning for her killing,20 maintaining the ideology that those in power manipulate ideology to maintain control.21 Iphigeneia’s changing emotions reflect her struggle with agency, not her attainment of it. Lumley emphasises her lack of agency by changing “daughter” to “childe,”22 as a means of depicting Iphigeneia in a way to reinforce the inhumanity of sacrificing a young girl, which reflects her critique on the death of Lady Jane Grey,23 and women’s incapability to ever be their own agent.

Clytemnestra is similarly characterised by her gender. She and Iphigeneia are referred to as “your daughter” and “your wife” respectively,24 reducing them to the possessions of Agamenon. To be acknowledged, Clytemnestra must introduce herself as “Clytemnestra... the daughter of Leda and wife of Agamemnon,”25 relying on male associations for credibility. Her agency is constrained by conflicting duties to the state (her husband) and her role as a mother. However, Lumley highlights Clytemnestra’s rhetorical power as she is increasingly vocal,26 in order to combat Agamemnon’s authority. For example, she refuses his order to “go home,”27 insisting she oversee her daughter’s wedding.28 While this could be a maternal concern, her disobedience defies societal standards of the time, whereby a wife must obey her husband, as commanded in Aquinas’s Summa Theologica.29

However, she still lacks full agency: she can only influence matters concerning her daughter within the confines of her marriage.30 Following Mishra and Tripathi’s definition of agency, she is not an agent, because even after begging Agamemnon to spare their daughter,31 her protests ultimately fail. Challenging Agamemnon makes her even lesser of an agent when his character is analysed further. Marx’s master/ slave diacritic discusses how in this relationship, the master lives in a constant state of fear that the subaltern may turn against him.32 Agamemnon is the ‘master’ and the Greek army the ‘slave’. He lives in a constant fear throughout the play that the army will turn against him if he doesn’t go ahead with the sacrifice, which ultimately overrides the fear of losing his daughter.33 Therefore, it would be easy for Clytemnestra to stand up to her husband, knowing how much he has to lose: she is the only character in the play to assess the repercussions of the utilitarian approach in the future. If Agamemnon was seen as a tyrant to his own family, he would undoubtedly be seen in the same way by the public. Therefore, she has no agency because even being aware of this flaw, it is still impossible for her to have the power to influence anything.

The female chorus is also important when considering Lumley’s presentation of female agency. In Euripides play, the chorus essentially held no significance to the action or symbolism in the play.34 Lumley notably reduced the chorus’ lines from the original to create a sense of marginalisation to reflect their position in society, as all the members are female. Yet she makes sure to maintain their crucial part as a feminine presence in the play, the final line of the play being from them: “O happy Agamemnon, the gods grant you a fortunate journey to Troy and a most prosperous return again.”35 Here, Lumley reminds the reader of Iphigeneia's inevitable

death, and consequently of the lack of female agency all along. This ultimately reflects her critique on the political and moral conflicts present in sixteenth century England.

Ultimately, female agency in Lumley’s Iphigeneia is non-existent: Iphigeneia dies how she was always going to die, simply choosing what was already inevitable. This is not agency but resignation. Despite Iphigeneia’s heroism, Clytemnestra’s efforts and the chorus’ female presence, they are not agents because they are women. Being outspoken and appropriating patriarchal discourse does not provide agency. The patriarchal system instantly limits their ability to be agents of their own lives. However, through this translation (the first by a woman), Lumley herself is an agent, as the audaciousness of the publication provides a bold social critique which still contributes to modern discussions of female agency and political and moral conflict. Lumley changes the focus of the sacrifice from whether it is the right or wrong thing to do, to who has the right to dictate it of whom. This showcases ideas of translations only lightly touching an original through their ability to change the message of a work entirely.36

Although the female characters may attempt to be vocal, they lack effect or influence as they are never able to reach the dominance of the males. Lumley successfully highlights how one can only have real agency if their voice is heard, reflected on and acted on, which for a woman in a patriarchal society, cannot happen. The demand for Iphigeneia’s death is exclusively male, and the play concludes with this decision being fulfilled. Ultimately, the female characters never had agency.

Footnotes:

1 Euripides, Iphigeneia, trans. By Jane Lumley, 2nd edn (London: Chiswick Press, 1909).

2 Patricia Demers, ‘On first looking into Lumley’s Euripedes’, Renaissance and Reformation/Renaissance et Réforme, XXIII, 1 (1999) pp. 25-42 p.26. 3 Demers, p.37. 4 Lumley, p.65b.

5 Npripendra Kishore Mishra and Tulika Tripathi, ‘Conceptualising Women's Agency, Autonomy and Empowerment’, Economic and Political Weekly, 46 (2011) pp. 58-65 p.59. 6 Trudie Messent, ‘The Tragic Heroine as ‘comoditie’: Iphigeneia by Lady Jane Lumley and The Execution of Lady Jane Grey by Paul Delaroche’, Vides III, 2015. pp.213-225 p.219.

7 Lumley, p.93b.

8 Lumley, p.68b. 9 Lumley, p.80. 10 Alison Findlay, ‘Reproducing Iphigenia at Aulis’, Early Theatre, 18.2 (2015) pp.1-16 p.141. 11 Lumley, p.79. 12 Findlay, p.136. 13 Lumley, p.92b. 14 Jacob Viner, ‘Bentham and J. S. Mill: The Utilitarian Background’, The American Economic Review, 39 pp. 360-382 p.365. 15 Findlay, p.41. 16 Lumley, p.94. 17 Stephanie Hodgson-Wright, ‘Jane Lumley’s Iphigenia at Aulus: Multum in parvo, or less is more’, in Readings in Renaissance Women’s Drama: Criticism, History, and Performance 1594- 1998 (London, 1998) p.133. 18 Lumley, p.92b. 19 Friedrich Engels, ‘Engels to Franz Mehring’ in Marx-Engels Correspondence1893<https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1893/letters/93_07_14.htm> [accessed 15th February].

20 Lumley, p.88b. 21 Georg Lukacs, ‘Class Consciousness’ in History & Class Consciousness 1920 <https://www.marxists.org/archive/lukacs/works/history/lukacs3.htm> [accessed 15 February 2025]. 22 Lumley, p.4b. 23 Messent, p.213. 24 Lumley, p.70. 25 Lumley, p.82. 26 Messent, p.220. 27 Demers, p.34. 28 Lumley, p.81. 29 Michael W. Kaufman ‘The Conception of Woman in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance,’

Soundings: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 56 (1973) pp. 139-163 p.142.

30 Lumley, p.81b. 31 Lumley, p.88. 32 Alexandre Kojève, Introduction to the Reading of Hegel, ed. By Allan Bloom, trans. By James H. Nichols, 2nd edition (New York: Cornell Paperbacks, 1947) p.8. 33 Lumley, p.85b. 34 Albert Weiner, ‘The Function of the Tragic Greek Chorus’, Theatre Journal, 32.2 (1980) pp. 205-212 p.206. 35 Lumley, p.97.

36 Demers, p.38.

Bibliography: Primary Source:

Euripides, Iphigeneia, trans. By Jane Lumley, 2nd edn (London: Chiswick Press, 1909)

Secondary Sources: Works cited:

Demers, Patricia ‘On first looking into Lumley’s Euripedes’, Renaissance and Reformation/Renaissance et Réforme, 23.1 (1999) pp. 25-42

Engels, Friedrich ‘Engels to Franz Mehring’ in Marx-Engels Correspondence 1893 <https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1893/letters/93_07_14.htm> [accessed 15th February]Howell, Martha ‘The Problem of Women’s Agency in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe’, in Women and Gender in the Early Modern Low Countries ed.by Sarah Joan Moran and Amanda Pipkin (Netherlands: Brill, 2019), pp.21-31

Findlay, Alison ‘Reproducing Iphigenia at Aulis’, Early Theatre, 18.2 (2015) pp.1-16

Hodgson-Wright, Stephanie ‘Jane Lumley’s Iphigenia at Aulus: Multum in parvo, or less is more’, in Readings in Renaissance Women’s Drama: Criticism, History, and Performance 1594- 1998 (London, 1998)

Kojève, Alexandre Introduction to the Reading of Hegel, ed. By Allan Bloom, trans. By James H. Nichols, 2nd edition (New York: Cornell Paperbacks, 1947)

Review, 39 pp. 360-382

Weiner, Albert ‘The Function of the Tragic Greek Chorus’, Theatre Journal, 32.2 (1980) pp. 205- 212

Other works read: Bleeke, Marian ‘Considering Female Agency: Hildegard of Bingen and Francesca Woodman’,

Woman's Art Journal, 31 (2010) pp. 39-46

Miola, Robert ‘Early modern receptions of Iphigenia at Aulis’, Classical Receptions Journal, 12 (2020) pp. 279–298

Mock, Geoffrey Dancing to the Continuing Relevance of the Trojan War (2006) Duke Today <https://today.duke.edu/2016/07/trojan> [accessed 13 February 2025]

Purkiss, Diane, ed. The Three Tragedies by Renaissance Women. (London: Penguin Books, 1998)

.

Straznicky, Martha ‘Reviewed Work(s): Three Tragedies by Renaissance Women by Diane Purkiss’, 4, (2001) pp.182-185

[indiasessays]

A critical commentary on Solo e pensoso I più deserti campi and Sento l'aura mia antica, e i dolci colli in Petrarch's Canzoniere.

Petrarch’s Canzoniere or the Rerum Vulgarium Fragmenta (RVF)1 is a carefully constructed narrative2 of the poet's emotional and psychological journey, comprising 366 lyric poems. It mediates on the difficulties of love for the unattainable muse, Laura. Petrarch ruminates on emotional isolation, the passage of time and his own personal identity- told via the first-person ‘io’. Sonnet XXXV (Solo e pensoso i più deserto campi)3 depicts the poet’s unshakeable love for Laura, depicting a sense of isolation pinned upon ‘Amor’ among the vastness of nature. Sonnet CCCXX (Sento l’aura mia antica, e i dolci colli)4 similarly depicts the despair and torment of loving someone, but through evoking a sense of return to a familiar place, again addressing love’s paradoxical nature. The former sonnet is written in the ‘in Vita’ section of the collection, whereas the latter is included in the ‘in Morte,’ which reference Laura’s life, and her death and its aftermath5. Unlike his Florentine contemporaries Dante and Bocaccio, Petrarch’s self- consciousness is wholly apparent throughout. He ultimately presents the modern notion of love as something which creates suffering and misery, rather than a celebration of a higher force6. Both sonnets can be viewed as an exploration into the contradictory nature of love: the motif of the past simultaneously serves as a means of solace and torment, in the same way that Petrarch presents his love for Laura. They stand as mediations on longing, isolation and the relationship between memory and identity.

Petrarch did not write the poems in the order in which they are presented in the collection and often edited them in a sporadic manner7. The reader is encouraged to read the whole collection, rather than separate poems8. By doing so, the poems which are presented far away from each

other can be connected9. Unlike his Florentine contemporary Dante, Petrarch does not include prose to guide the reader. Instead, the narrative is intended to be intertwined into the RVF as a whole, and we must study it as a macro text10. Petrarch wrote for the learned elite in his time: the humanists who were the only intellectuals able to untangle lyric poetry11. Therefore, the reader must decipher the narrative for themselves. Thus, RVF XXXV and CCCXX are already more connected than assumed from their distance in the collection, before their content is read.

Both sonnets include the classic Italian hendecasyllabic meter to create a rhythmic regularity which mirrors the poet’s repetitive suffering. Both sonnets employ the typical structure for a Petrarchan sonnet, whereby the octave’s rhyme scheme is ABBAABBA, and the sestet either CDECDE (RVF XXXV) or CDCCDC (RVFCCCXX). This Petrarchan feature explicitly informs the reader that the sonnets’ content will discuss unattainable love12. Although similar in structure, the difference in the rhyme scheme of the sestets is employed to explore their respective themes of time and solitude. This structure naturally provides a sense of a dilemma accompanied by resolution.

In RVF XXXV, the poet’s sense of isolation is described through natural expansive imagery, like the “deserti campi” (1). Additionally, the use of enjambment in the octave reflects the restless quality of the sonnet and creates the image of the poet’s internal thoughts spilling out desperately outside of the ‘lines’ of the poem. The weight of the poet’s despair is apparent through the slow and balanced rhythm, and the opening line “Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi" (1) immediately sets the tone for the speaker's solitude with the subject “solo.” It is

noteworthy that all the verbs in this sonnet are in the present tense, to amplify the inescapable notion of the torment of “Amor”13. The volta introduces a philosophical reflection: “sì ch' io mi credo omai...” (9) whereby the rest of the sonnet relates the natural imagery directly with his person: “monti et piagge et fiumi et selve sappian di che tempre sia la mia vita”(9/10). The use of listing adds to the sense of conclusion that no matter how “aspre” or “selvagge” the paths he wanders are, his love for Laura is

inescapable. Here, Petrarch uses the rules of the Petrarchan sonnet to create the answer to his question: that there is no resolution. No matter how far he travels, there is not a place on Earth he can go where “Amor” does not follow. It is therefore clear in this sonnet that the natural elements are directly linked to his feelings for Laura, despite her not being explicitly mentioned. The inability to resolve his emotional turmoil reflects the wider thematic concern of the RVF where the poet’s internal conflicts are rarely resolved.

While RVF CCCXX follows the same formal division of the Petrarchan sonnet, there is a slight difference in the sestet to reflect the differing emotional trajectory of the sonnet. The octave immediately introduces a nostalgic return: “Sento l’aura mia antica, e i dolci colli”(1). Compared to the desolate vocabulary used in RVF XXXV, this sonnet is wholly more serene and reflective: tinged with melancholy instead of consumed by it. The memories contain a semantic field of peace: “lume”, “Ciel”. Yet the sense of dilemma or a problem is still very much intact through Petrarch’s use of the distressed exclamations: “O caduche speranze, o penser folli!”(5). Rather than the linear approach seen in RVF XXXV of ‘question and answer,’ RVF CCCXX incorporates a cyclical shift. It offers a resignation to the inevitability of time, by reflecting the same idea in the octave into the sestet and volta. This can be understood greater with the knowledge that Petrarch originally wrote the sonnets with seven lines of twenty-two syllables,

with the circular dimensions of 22/7 (3.14)14. This reflects the speaker’s ongoing return to the motif of the past, which represents both comfort and misery.

From the restless isolation in RVF XXXV to the reflective nostalgia in RVF CCCXX, Petrarch demonstrates how his suffering, thoughts about Laura and the passage and time can never truly be resolved or completed. Given that RVF XXXV is written in the ‘In Vita’ section of the collection, and RVF CCCXX in the ‘In Morte,’ Petrarch presents tensions between life and death shown through the differing vocabulary within RVF XXXV and RVF CCCXX. RVF XXXV’s language reflects its theme of isolation, introducing the motif of solitude through words like “solo”, “deserti” and “pensoso” (1). “Deserti” echoes the speaker’s sense of loneliness upon the belief that nobody but nature around him truly understands his despair. The barren landscape mirrors the psychological state of abandonment felt by the poet. An inhospitable atmosphere is created through the imagery of the “campi”(1) and “selve”(10). The speaker's external and internal world is consumed by absence: a metaphor for the unattainability of Laura. RVF CCCXX instead invokes a more nostalgic tone, through “l’ aura,” “i dolci colli”(1) which conveys a sense of familiarity and intimacy, “dolci” suggesting a yearning for a time where love was sweet or innocent. “Belli occhi suoi”(10) is also reminiscent and nostalgic, seemingly forgetful of RVF CLXXVIIII15 whereby Petrarch depicts Laura’s gaze to be like “Medusa” (10). This conveys a romanticisation of Laura after her death and represents the shifting perception of her throughout. The “aura” evokes a longing for something in the temporal distance while also playing on the homophone “Laura,” to emphasise how she mentally and physically surrounds him. It can also suggest ‘l’ ora’ (time), and “oro” (gold) as a reiteration of Laura’s preciousness and unattainability. The reference to ‘laurel’ further evokes poetic fame16. The homophones showcase Petrarch's literary skill, as draw on the vocabulary famously used in Ovid’s myths of

Daphne and Apollo to deepen the emotional complexity of the poem17. The speaker is portrayed as a victim of love, limited in agency, much like the Ovidian figures in Metamorphoses.18

Alongside the calendrical structure of the collection19, it is apparent that the passage of time and expansive nature are key themes throughout. The intricate wordplay and wide scope of vocabulary depicts a classical medieval poetry quality20. Not even Petrarch's contemporaries could fully understand Petrarch’s use of symbolism within the collection21. While both sonnets use intricate vocabulary to highlight the theme of isolation, the contrast between these two representations highlights a shift from despair (RVF XXXV) to mediative and resigned (RVF CCCXX). The speaker’s surroundings in RVF XXXV amplify the depth of his torment, while in RVF CCCXX- while still yearning- seems more comforting. This represents the classical motif of the divided self, as seen in Ovid’s myths.

The emphasis placed on the sense of despair in RVF XXXV and CCCXX depicts a presentation of the poet’s inner experiences, rather than an account of factual events. The audience is summoned to read the autobiographical nature of the poem, told in the first-person poetic “io,” revealing an emotional journey. The speaker is both the subject and the object of the sonnets and the collection, rather than its muse, Laura. The question of Laura’s fictitiousness arises in Petrarch’s letter to Colonna22 asserting her historical nature, denying her as a poetic invention. However, modern tradition argues that questions of the truthfulness of texts is less important than examining the poet’s poetics23. Laura can be seen as an idealised reality, allowing Petrarch to depict his internal world more relatabley. She represents the allegory of the laurel,

which in turn ‘crowns’ him24, framing the collection as a poetic imagination, rather than mere documentation.

Both RVF XXXV and CCCXX provide insights into the broader themes of the collection: of solitude, memory, nature, love, and the navigation of an emotional and psychological journey. With only small differences in rhyme scheme, vocabulary and tone, both sonnets ultimately encapsulate the nature of the collection: one which depicts the inner turmoil of loving someone to the point of no return. Once the emotion is there, it does not leave. Both sonnets discuss the nature of love’s paradoxical nature. The sonnets explore Petrarch’s personal struggles and the broader tensions of the RVF. Petrarch- the speaker- is ultimately a victim of the intensity of love, to the point at which he feels he must revisit this feeling three hundred and sixty-six times.

Footnotes:

1 Francesco Petrarca, Petrarch’s Lyric Poems ITAL, ed./trans. By Robert M. Durling, (Harvard: Harvard University Press, 1976). 2 Michelangelo Picone, ‘Petrarch and the Unfinished Book’, Francis Petrarch & the European Lyric Tradition, 22 (2004) pp. 45-60 (46).

3 Petrarca, pp.94-95. 4 Petrarca, pp.498-499. 5 Petrarca, pp.484-485. 6 Havely, p.229. 7 Picone, p.46. 8 Peter Hainsworth, ‘Rerum Vulgarium Fragmenta: Structure and Narrative’, in The Cambridge Companion to Petrarch, ed. By Albert Russell Ascoli and Uni Falkeid, Cambridge Companions

to Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015) pp.39-50 (39).

9 Picone, p.45. 10 Hainsworth, p.39. 11 Marco Santagata, “Io” e “tu” fra Stilnovo e Petrarca (2017), Marco Santagata<http://www.marcosantagata.it/1/io_e_tu_19178.html> [accessed 18 December 2024]. 12 Robert Hollander, ‘Vita Nuova: Dante's Perceptions of Beatrice’ in Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, (Maryland: The John Hopkins University Press, 1974), pp.1-18.

13 Thomas E. Peterson, ‘The Fabulous Petrarch: "La raccolta del 1342" as the Source of the

Fabulous in "Rerum vulgarium fragmenta”’, Annali d'Italianistica, 22 (2004), pp.61-84 (71).

14 Janet L Smarr, ‘Reviewed Work(s): Chi Era Laura? by Wilhelm Pötters: Petrarch the Poet. An Introduction to the Rerum Vulgrium Fragmenta. by Peter Hainsworth’, Renaissance Quarterly, 42.3 (1989), pp.546-549 (547). 15 Petrarca, pp.324-325.

16 John Freccero, ‘The Fig Tree and the Laurel: Petrarch's Poetics’, Diacritics, 5.1 (1975) pp.34- 40 (34).

17 Gordon Braden ‘Beyond Frustration: Petrarchan Laurels in the Seventeenth Century’,Studies in English Literature, 26.1 (1986) pp.5-23 (8). 18 Charles Segal, Ovid's "Metamorphoses": Greek Myth in Augustan Rome, Studies in Philology, 68.4 (1971) pp.371-394 (378).

19 Thomas P Roche, ‘The Calendrical Structure of Petrarch's "Canzoniere”’, Studies in Philology, 71.2 (1974) pp.152-173 (152). 20 Thomas E. Peterson, ‘The Fabulous Petrarch: "La raccolta del 1342" as the Source of the Fabulous in "Rerum vulgarium fragmenta”’, Annali d'Italianistica, 22 (2004) pp. 61-84 (71).

21 David Wallace, Reviewed Work(s): Petrarch. Poet and Humanist. Writers of Italy Series by Kenelm Foster, New Blackfriars, 65.773 (1984) pp. 487-489 (487). 22 Unn Falkeid, ‘Petrarch's Laura and the Critics’, MLN, 127 (2012), pp. S64-S71 (S64). 23 Falkeid, p.S65.

Falkeid, p.S65.

Bibliography:

Primary Source:

Petrarca, Francesco, Petrarch’s Lyric Poems ITAL, ed./trans. By Robert M. Durling, (Harvard: Harvard University Press, 1976)

Secondary Sources:

Braden, Gordon, ‘Beyond Frustration: Petrarchan Laurels in the Seventeenth Century’, Studies in English Literature, 26.1 (1986) pp.5-23

Freccero, John, ‘The Fig Tree and the Laurel: Petrarch's Poetics’, Diacritics, 5.1 (1975) pp.34- 40

Hainsworth, Peter, ‘Rerum Vulgarium Fragmenta: Structure and Narrative’, in The Cambridge Companion to Petrarch, ed. by Albert Russell Ascoli and Unn Falkeid, Cambridge Companions to Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 39–50

Hollander, Robert ‘Vita Nuova: Dante's Perceptions of Beatrice’ in Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, (Maryland: The John Hopkins University Press, 1974), pp.1-18.

Peterson, Thomas, E ‘The Fabulous Petrarch: "La raccolta del 1342" as the Source of the Fabulous in "Rerum vulgarium fragmenta”’, Annali d'Italianistica, 22 (2004), pp.61-84

Picone, Michelangelo ‘Petrarch and the Unfinished Book’, Francis Petrarch & the European Lyric Tradition, 22 (2004) pp. 45-60

Roche, Thomas P ‘The Calendrical Structure of Petrarch's "Canzoniere”’, Studies in Philology, 71.2 (1974) pp.152-173

Santagata, Marco “Io” e “tu” fra Stilnovo e Petrarca (2017), Marco Santagata<http://www.marcosantagata.it/1/io_e_tu_19178.html> [accessed 18 December 2024]

Segal, Charles, Ovid's "Metamorphoses": Greek Myth in Augustan Rome, Studies in Philology, 68.4 (1971) pp.371-394

Smarr, Janet L ‘Reviewed Work(s): Chi Era Laura? by Wilhelm Pötters: Petrarch the Poet. An Introduction to the Rerum Vulgrium Fragmenta. by Peter Hainsworth’, Renaissance Quarterly, 42.3 (1989), pp.546-549

Wallace, David, Reviewed Work(s): Petrarch. Poet and Humanist. Writers of Italy Series by Kenelm Foster, New Blackfriars, 65.773 (1984) pp. 487-489

[indiasessays]

A critical commentary on Dante's Ne li occhi porta la mia donna amore, from the Vita Nuova.

Dante’s Vita Nuova1 cleverly comprises prosimetrum depicting Dante’s love for character, Beatrice, until her death in the middle of the work. The title translates to ‘newness’ and Ne Li Occhi Porta La Mia Donna Amore2 is a sonnet in the middle of the libello, marking a stylistic and subject matter evolution. Narrated in the first person ‘io,’ Dante explores his love for Beatrice as a path to spiritual enlightenment, developed fully in his later book: Divina Commedia3. Although scholars debate the existence of Beatrice, she is generally considered to represent a real-life lover of Dante’s: Beatrice Portinari4, yet this is unimportant to her significance in the text as the embodiment of divinity5. This essay will analyse the poetic technique, content and narrative place of the sonnet, capturing the core themes of the text, marking the beginning of Dante’s enlightenment.

The poem is a typical Petrarchan sonnet: fourteen lines with an octave and a sestet, conveying the emotional intensity and the thematic shift in the poem. The octave describes the physical aspects of Beatrice’s eyes “ciò ch'ella mira,6” and the resulting: “tremar7.” The octave’s rhyme scheme is ABBAABBA, while the sestet shifts into a spiritual consequence of Beatrice, under the rhyme scheme of CDCDCD. The sonnet was written with the consideration that it would be read aloud, to amplify the musicality of its contrasting tone to heighten the sense of a divine presence. Unlike Petrarchan conventions, whereby a sonnet typically casts love as unattainable and often unrequited8, Dante’s poem depicts love as a divine force. Dante also veers slightly from the typical iambic pentameter of Petrarchan sonnets, implementing slight variation such as

the stressed- unstressed trochee in ‘Occhi,’ which creates disruption in the rhythmn. This highlights Dante’s rhetorical prowess, which Augustine believed allowed one to become closer to Truth, believing that physical sight was equated with spiritual insight9. The Vita Nuova transforms traditional love ideology from a manifestation of human desire, into something transformative and magical.

In Vita Nuova, Dante explores three modes of vision10: actual seeing, seeing in a dream, and imagined or fantasy seeing. This is explored in the sonnet through the metaphor of Beatrice’s eyes as a vessel for Amore. Ne li Occhi porta la Mia Donna11 translates to “In her eyes, my lady carries love,” personifying Beatrice's eyes as a conduit for divine agency, supplemented with ample vocabulary: “mira12,” “viso”13 and so on. Eyes in medieval thought symbolised insight, reflecting Christian symbolism where light represents truth14. Hollander noted Dante’s reliance on articulating himself via reference to the senses15, thus the act of “Vedere” is an important means to enlightenment.

Chapter XXI is specifically intended to praise Beatrice: “Vennemi volontade di voler dire anche... mostrasse come per lei si sveglia questo amore.”16 The poem’s language reveres Beatrice, placing her on a pedestal, Dante immediately refers to Beatrice as La donna- ‘the lady’- a celestial figure. Dante steps away from conventions seen in typical medieval poetry whereby death concludes romance. The closing line of Ne Li Occhi Porta La Mia Donna Amore calls Beatrice a “novo miracolo17,” reflecting Dante’s awe, highlighted using the Latin ‘novo,’ as a

means of allowing only the highly learned readers to have access to Beatrice. Such reverential language would have been improper for medieval poetry18, and reference to Beatrice as a miracle would have been blasphemous. However, Dante’s portrayal transcends conventions. Had he wanted to adhere to Medieval societal norms, his depiction of love would have remained secular and earthly, not elevating Beatrice as the embodiment of divine grace and spiritual love, seen in her name “Benedicta Beatrice”19, and her consistent connection to the number nine to suggest triple of God’s perfection20.

The sonnet marks a key turning point, placed in the narrative arc when Dante realises that his feelings for Beatrice are not simply romantic infatuation, but a refined, spiritual love. The surrounding prose, which Hollander describes: a ‘self-conscious unit’21 describes how his previous attempts of discussing the nature of love did not suffice, and that “Vennemi volontade di voler dire anche22”. Earlier poems in the text, like ‘XVI’: Appresso ciò23, express grief and longing, while this poem shifts to a metaphysical understanding of love. It is the perfect foreground for Dante’s later book: Divina Commedia, where Beatrice has the role of Dante’sspiritual guide, and her radiance becomes the ultimate symbol of divine truth.

To conclude, Ne li Occhi porta la Mia Donna Amore is a pivotal poem in Dante’s Vita Nuova, marking the evolution of Dante’s love for Beatrice. He steps away from traditional Medieval ideas of love as a carnal feeling, to a transcendent enlightenment. Dante’s philosophical exploration of love in this sonnet serves as a literary bridge between emotional and spiritual elements of his work, using the motif of Beatrice as the ‘donna angelo’, which is developed in his later works, like The Commedia. This sonnet displays his exceptional ability as a writer, able to intertwine personal experience and emotion with theological and philosophical insight.

Footnotes:

1 Dante Alighieri, Vita Nuova, (Milan: Lerici Editori, 1965). 2 Alighieri, pp.99-100. 3 Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia (italics) (Independently Published, 2017). 4 Richard J. Gerber, ‘La Figura’, Joyce Studies Annual, (2017) p.268.

5 Robert Hollander, ‘Vita Nuova: Dante's Perceptions of Beatrice’ in Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, (Maryland: The John Hopkins University Press, 1974), pp.1-18.

6 Alighieri, p.99. 7 Alighieri, p.99. 8 Hollander, pp.1-18.

9 Teodolinda Barolini, ‘“Why Did Dante Write the Commedia?” or the Vision Thing’, Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, (1993) 1-8. 10 Hollander, pp.1-18. 11 Alighieri, p.99.

12 Alighieri, p.99. 13 Alighieri, p.99. 14 Jefferson B. Fletcher, ‘The Allegory of the “Vita Nuova”, Modern Philology, 11 (1913) 19-37. 15 Hollander, pp.1-18. 16 Alighieri, p.99. 17 Alighieri, p.99.

18 Dante da Maiano, Dante da Maiano a Dante Alighieri in riposta al sonetto I, (1997) Princeton Dante Project <https://dante.princeton.edu/cgi- bin/dante/DispMinorWork.pl?TITLE=Rime&REF=IV%201- 5#:~:text=IV%20DANTE%20DA%20MAIANO%20A,del%20ver%20lo%20suo%20sentore.> [accessed1 November 2024].

19 Gerber, 268. 20 Fletcher, p.5. 21 Hollander, p.3. 22 Alighieri, p.99. 23 Alighieri, p.86.

Bibliography: Primary texts:

Alighieri, Dante, Vita Nuova, (Milan: Lerici Editori, 1965)

Alighieri, Dante, Vita Nuova, trans. By Mark Musa (Oxford: OUP Oxford, 2008)

Secondary texts: Alighieri, Dante, La Divina Commedia, (Independently Published, 2017)

Barolini, Teodolina, ‘“Why Did Dante Write the Commedia?” or the Vision Thing’, Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, (1993) 1-8

B. Fletcher, Jefferson, ‘The Allegory of the “Vita Nuova”, Modern Philology, 11 (1913) 19-37

Da Maiano, Dante, Dante da Maiano a Dante Alighieri in riposta al sonetto I, (1997) Princeton Dante Project (italics) <https://dante.princeton.edu/cgi- bin/dante/DispMinorWork.pl?TITLE=Rime&REF=IV%2015#:~:text=IV%20DANTE%20DA%20M AIANO%20A,del%20ver%20lo%20suo%20sentore.> [accessed 1 November 2024]

Franke, William, ‘Dante and the Poetics of Religious Revelation’, Symplokē, 2, (1994) 103-116.

Hollander, Robert, ‘Vita nuova: Dante's Perceptions of Beatrice’ in Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society’, (Maryland: The John Hopkins University Press, 1974)

J. Gerber, Richard, ‘La Figura’, Joyce Studies Annual, (2017) 265-272

Lewis, R.W.B., ‘Dante's Beatrice and the New Life of Poetry’, New England Review, 22 (2001) 69-80

[indiasessays]

To what extent was the artist’s individuality important to Vasari, and how far could this quality be expressed in their works? Referring to Giotto and Michelangelo in the Lives of the Artists.’

Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Artists, analyses the Renaissance artists during the fall of the ‘Barbaric’ period, through three periods up to the ‘rebirth’ (Renaissance) of classical art1. Vasari chronologically explores the background of each artist and their rise to fame and popularity. He then analyses their unique wit, skill and vision and values the artist in the way that these qualities can be manifested in their works. Two artists incorporated in the book who hold relevance to this are Giotto2 and Michelangelo3, both skilled in painting, sculpting and architecture. There are many suggestions that Vasari did not write all the accounts himself4, yet it is apparent that the accounts of Giotto and Michelangelo come directly from him, due to the use of hyperbolic language and amount of material. Vasari holds both artists in high regard for their innovative and creative approaches. These two artists and their works are therefore key to analysing the importance of the Renaissance artist’s individuality for Vasari.

Giotto, known as the ‘Father of the Renaissance’, is an emblem to the artist who broke away from the conventional art style of the time, marking a significant departure from the ‘Maniera Greca.’5 This encompassed Byzantine and Gothic styles, which had harsh lines, a lack of depth and disproportion. Giotto is revered by Vasari, for reviving “through God’s grace what had fallen into an evil state.”6 In preface 1, Vasari laments over the “brutish barbarians” and the “miserable ruins and the disasters which befell that most illustrious city”7 after the fall of Rome, thus showing disdain to art styles serving as a reminder of its collapse, like the ‘Maniera Greca.’ Vasari praises Giotto for his ability to apply to his works a sense of naturalism, emotion, and idealism, transforming the trajectory in which artists depicted the world around them through art. It is evident that Giotto’s individualism in the sense that he “became such an excellent imitator of nature that he completely banished the crude Greek style and revived the modern and excellent art of painting”8 was of great importance to Vasari. The revering use of “excellent” makes Vasari’s opinion of Giotto apparent: by “banishing” the ‘Maniera Greca,’ Giotto becomes a ‘Mesiah’ figure9 to Vasari- not necessarily for what his works consisted of, but because they were the first to so boldly turn away from the Greek imbued style.

Vasari did not only value individualism in the artist's art style or skill, but for their personality too.10 Vasari immediately states that Giotto was “always ready with some clever remark, or a witty retort.”11 Despite not having any artistic schooling,12 Vasari recounts the way that Giotto did not let his superiors condescend him or insult his intelligence. Vasari greatly commends this attitude, drawing on several word-of-mouth stories in which Giotto’s wit was apparent. Respected by the King for his skill and humour,13 Giotto was privately commissioned to paint the King’s kingdom, to which he “painted him an ass.” Vasari explains how this response encapsulates Giotto’s boldness, critiquing the King for his stubborn and foolish qualities. Vasari also mentions the account of Giotto’s ‘O’, whereby the Pope wished to test Giotto’s skill, to which he drew a perfect ‘O’ freehand, leaving all those watching marvelled.14 This example alone “gave rise to a proverb,”15 which had long lasting usage in Vasari’s time, proving Giotto’s longevity concerning his individuality. Anecdotes such as these became an emblem to the memory of Giotto, and since Vasari states that “I could relate many other pranks played by Giotto

and many of his witty retorts,”16 it is evident that the writer held the artist in great esteem for his unique personality.

Vasari opens his account of Giotto with an immediate sense of respect, emphasising his humble origins,17making it clear that Giotto was never formally taught art but obtained the ability from nature.18 Therefore, his natural ability conforms to Vasari’s sought for ‘grace:’19 a key aspect for a successful artist. Giotto’s natural talent is reflected in his artwork. Vasari relays the story of how Giotto painted a fly

on Cimabue’s painting, which “looked so natural that when his master returned to continue his work, he tried more than once to drive the fly away with his hand.”20 The heightened use of subjective language may suggest bias. However, Vasari includes the opinions of other notable scholars of the time, proving a common respect for Giotto's ability to realistically render things from nature. Glorified author Dante claimed that Giotto “was and is the greatest among the painters”21 in Italy. Early humanist Petrarch revered Giotto’s work so much that he dedicated a part of his will to the donation of one of his pieces.22 Vasari’s choice to include other scholars’ opinions reinforces how Giotto’s individualism was deemed widely important to all, Vasari included.

For Vasari, Giotto’s realism “laid the foundations for the proper method of drawing and coloring.”23

Giotto’s skill is reflected in his frescoe ‘The Miracle of the Spring’ in the collection of ‘Legend of Saint Francis’. Vasari describes “A thirsty man whose desire to drink is clearly evident... with such great and truly marvellous emotion that it almost seems as if he is a real person drinking.”24 Vasari claims that the use of foreshortening with the positioning of the trees and body proportion- such as a man kneeling- was performed with “ease.”25 Vasari also conveys how in the painting of ‘The Ognissanti Madonna’, Giotto had “vividly expressed the fright and dread”26 of the woman, “as if she wants to run away.”27 The painting

seem so lifelike: the detail of expression appears to be ‘breaking a fourth wall’. Giotto’s new approach is thus manifested through perspective, previously unused in Byzantine art, shaping him as a profoundly individual artist.

Another notably individual artist in ‘Lives’ is evidently Michelangelo, with the most material dedicated to him, having also lived a longer life. Michelangelo came from a high-status background, so was well respected by people from high society, like Lorenzo de Medici, who allowed him to study in the Medici gardens.28 This privilege allowed Michelangelo to obtain a high knowledge of nature: a skill held in immense regard by Vasari. Other artists mentioned in the third section are said to have been directly influenced by Michelangelo’s work, such as Raphael, who changed his entire art style upon seeing one of Michelangelo’s pieces.29 Vasari also mentions how rivals wished to sabotage Michelangelo’ssculpting,30 depicting this as a futile endeavour, as he was also skilled in drawing, painting and architecture. Vasari encapsulates how Michelangelo triumphed over all rivals,31 even Leonardo,32 crediting him as a successful artist for his unique fame, attention and knowledge. Vasari suggests that he had a friendship with the artist, often defending him. Yet, he defeats any allegations of being too subjective in his assessment, by acknowledging his digressions, affirming that he only made personal references “for the sake of truth.”

Like Giotto, Michelangelo is held in high regard for his personality. This can be recognised through the way that Vasari praises Leonardo’s works heavily too,33 yet dismisses him as less important, as he honours courage and boldness.34 Vasari details stories where Michelangelo, like Giotto, outwitted other respected artists with his genius, such as pretending to retouch one of his statues in response to criticism.35 Vasari also describes that way that Michelangelo had a high sense of self respect, refusing to obey the Pope if he did not appreciate the way he was being spoken to.36 Michelangelo is also

described as generous, having paid the dowry for one of his carpenter's daughters.37 It is evident through the prolific use of examples which describe Michelangelo’s personality, that Vasari considered this individualism just as important as his skill. Vasari considers this “facezie” to be an essential part of being a successful artist,38 and Michelangelo is revealed to the reader as a man rather than an artist.39

Vasari set Michelangelo up to be the highest emblem of skill for all previous artists to be aspiring to meet, by placing his account near the end of the book.40 For the period, it was rare for biographies to have been written for artists,41 yet there are many written for the works of Michelangelo (Francisco de Hollanda, Paolo Giovio, Ascanio Condivi). From a young age, Michelangelo immediately surpassed all the other students in his art school42, and went about his artwork in a completely individual way.43 Vasari mentions how Michelangelo required no teaching to excel in his skill.44 This display of natural talent, like Giotto, is what Vasari considered the groundwork for an important artist, as only nature and grace can produce impressive art. Michelangelo’s ability to render such realism in his works is the most penultimate reasoning behind Vasari’s reverence for him. He introduces Michelangelo: “the [bengign ruler of heaven]decided to send into the world an artist who would be skilled in each and every craft... Perfection in design.”45 Only somebody so unique and individual could warrant such praise. There are many instances where Vasari likens Michelangelo to Jesus: the highest form of individuality and praise, particularly in the devoutly Christian Renaissance Italy.46 For example, Vasari describes the statue of ‘David’ to be a miracle,47 as the stone used had previously been tampered with, so was rendered completely damaged

beyond repair,48 Vasari conveys the idea that Michelangelo ‘resurrected’ the stone49, reinforced by the fact that the stone is described as ‘storpiato’ which translates to ‘lame’. Thus, Michelangelo ‘healed’ a lame stone, as Jesus healed a lame man. Vasari describes Michelangelo as someone who came to Earth “under a fateful and fortunate star:”50 and as an artist who warrants the same respect as Jesus the Mesiah.

Vasari looks at the sculpture of ‘Pieta,’ as this statue revolutionised51 all previous attempts to convey the biblical scene. Vasari looks at Mary’s tender expression, as he feels that we can “easily discern”52 the

love that she feels for her son. This “level of design and grace”53 is something of great importance to Vasari, who criticises the “stupid people”54 who suggested that Mary was made to look too young, arguing that Michelangelo had perfectly captured the neoplatonic idea of her innocence and beauty of virginity.55 Another work which Vasari highly praises is the statue of ‘Moses,’ claiming that “no modern statue could ever rival in beauty.”56 Yet is Vasari’s language devotional towards the artist, or what the art represents? Paul Barolsky57 highlights how we as modern readers look at art from a secular perspective. Yet in Vasari’s time, art was a means of depicting stories from the Bible. When Vasari comments on the beauty of ‘Moses’, is he commenting on Michelangelo’s skill or celebrating the neoplatonic idea of God and the link between beauty, truth and goodness? However, Vasari does not just comment on the beauty of these works, but of the skill required to render their realism. For example, the “delicately carved” hair,58 the folds in the hems, the muscles of the arms and the sinews of the hands.59 For Vasari,

Michelangelo’s ability to render such naturalism shaped the course of the history of art from this moment on,60 his position in the third period achieves “everything possible in the imitation of nature.”61

Ultimately, the individuality of the Renaissance artist was greatly important to Vasari, as it reflected immense skill, grace, wit and intelligence. For Vasari, the greatest sign of individuality at the time was conveying nature, as this style of art was only ‘reborn’ through the works of the artists described, Giotto and Michelangelo playing a pivotal role in this. For Vasari, even the individuality of personality can be expressed in the artists' works, as their wit translated into works of genius. But more importantly, the skill in ability to create art itself is abundantly apparent in the artist's work. Individuality in the artist is captured with unique skill and talent, which any viewer, old or modern, can see in the works of Giotto and Michelangelo.

Footnotes:

1 T. S. R. Boase, ‘III. The Maniera Greca’ in Giorgio Vasari: The Man and the Book (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp.73-92 (73). 2 Giorgio Vasari, ‘The Life of Giotto, Florentine Painter, Sculptor and Architect’ in The Lives of the Artists, trans. By Julia Conaway Bondanella, Peter Bondanella (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991) pp. 15-36.

3 Giorgio Vasari, ‘The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti, Florentine Painter, Sculptor, and Architect’ in The Lives of the Artists, trans. By Julia Conaway Bondanella, Peter Bondanella (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991) pp.414-488. 4 Paul Barolsky, ‘Vasari’s Literary Artifice and the Triumph of Michelangelo’s David’, in The Ashgate Research Companion to Giorgio Vasari (Routledge, 2013), 121-27 (121).

5 T. S. R. Boase, ‘III. The Maniera Greca’ in Giorgio Vasari: The Man and the Book (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp.73-92 (87). 6 Giorgio Vasari, ‘The Life of Giotto, Florentine Painter, Sculptor and Architect’ in The Lives of the Artists, trans. By Julia Conaway Bondanella, Peter Bondanella (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991) pp. 15-36 (15).

7 Giorgio Vasari, ‘Preface One’ in The Lives of the Artists, trans. By Julia Conaway Bondanella, Peter Bondanella (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991) pp. 3-6 (4). 8 Vasari, p.16 9 Paul Barolsky, ‘The Ultimate Paradox of Vasari’s “Lives”, Notes in the History of Art, 31 (2011), pp.10-13 (10).

10 Patricia Lee Rubin, ‘chapv11’ in Giorgio Vasari: Art and History (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995), ‘Giotto: the fist light, pp287-320, p.288. 11 Vasari p.27. 12 Vasari, p.31.

13 Vasari, p.26. 14 Vasari, p.22. 15 Vasari, p.23.

16 Vasari, p.35. 17 Vasari, p.15. 18 Vasari, p.16. 19 Vasari, p5. 20 Vasari, p.35. 21 Vasari, p.33. 22 Vasari, p.33. 23 Vasari p.17-18. 24 Vasari, p.19.

25 Vasari, p.19. 26 Vasari, p.16. 27 Vasari, p.16

28 Vasari, p.419. 29 Vasari p.441. 30 Vasari, p.431. 31 Vasari p.417. 32 Barolsky, p.123. 33 Vasari, p.289.

34 Vasari, p.432. 35 Vasari, p.428. 36 Vasari, p.435.

37 Vasari, p.440. 38 Vasari, p.416. 39 T.S.R. Boase, ‘Raphael and Michelangelo’, in Giorgio Vasari. The Man and the Book (Princeton UP, 1979), pp. 235-54 (253). 40 Deborah Parker, ‘The Function of Michelangelo in Vasari’s Lives’, I Tatti Studies, 21 (2018) pp.137-57 (149). 41 Patricia Rubin ‘What Men Saw: Vasari's Life of Leonardo Da Vinci and the Image of the Renaissance Artist’, Art History, 13 (1990) pp.34-36 (34). 42 Vasari, p.417. 43 Vasari, p.417. 44 Vasari, p.419. 45 Barolsky p.325-6. 46 Paul Barolsky, ‘The Ultimate Paradox of Vasari’s “Lives”, Notes in the History of Art, 31 (2011),

pp.10-13 (10).

47 Vasari, p.427.

48 Vasari, p.426. 49 Paul Barolsky, ‘Vasari’s Literary Artifice and the Triumph of Michelangelo’s David’, in The

Ashgate Research Companion to Giorgio Vasari (Routledge, 2013), 121-27 (123). 50 Vasari, p.415. 51 Vasari, p.431. 52 Vasari, p.429.

53 Vasari, p.434. 54 Vasari, p.426. 55 Vasari, p.426. 56 Vasari, p.434. 57 Paul Barolsky, ‘The Ultimate Paradox of Vasari’s “Lives”, Notes in the History of Art, 31 (2011), pp.10-13.

58 Vasari, p.434. 59 Vasari, p.434.

60 Parker, p.138.

61 T. S. R. Boase, ‘III. The Maniera Greca’ in Giorgio Vasari: The Man and the Book (Princeton:

Princeton University Press, 1979), pp.73-92 (73).

Bibliography: 

Primary Source:

Vasari, Giorgio, The Lives of the Artists, trans. By Julia Conaway Bondanella, Peter Bondanella (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991)

Secondary Sources:

Barolsky, Paul, ‘The Ultimate Paradox of Vasari’s “Lives”, Notes in the History of Art, 31 (2011), pp.10-13. Barolsky, Paul, ‘Vasari’s Literary Artifice and the Triumph of Michelangelo’s David’, in The Ashgate

Research Companion to Giorgio Vasari (Routledge, 2013), 121-27 Boase, T.S.R, ‘III. The Maniera Greca’ in Giorgio Vasari: The Man and the Book (Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1979), pp.73-92

Boase, T.S.R, ‘Raphael and Michelangelo’, in Giorgio Vasari. The Man and the Book (Princeton UP, 1979), pp. 235-54

Burke, Peter, ‘Artists and Writers’, in The Italian Renaissance (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2014), pp. 47-93 Hope, Charles, ‘Vasari’s Vite as a Collaborative Project’, in The Ashgate Research Companion to Giorgio

Vasari, ed. David J. Cast (Ashgate, 2013), 11-21

Parker, Deborah, ‘The Function of Michelangelo in Vasari’s Lives’, I Tatti Studies, 21 (2018) pp.137-57 Rubin, Patricia Lee, ‘chapv11’ in Giorgio Vasari: Art and History (New Haven and London: Yale University

Press, 1995), ‘Giotto: the fist light, pp287-320

Rubin, Patricia, ‘What Men Saw: Vasari's Life of Leonardo Da Vinci and the Image of the Renaissance Artist’, Art History, 13 (1990) pp.34-36

[indiasessays]

To what extent does Machiavelli admire the figure of Agathocles and see him as a model for princely rule?

Commenting on the passages below and within the context of Machiavelli's The Prince as a whole.

Machiavelli’s political treatise counsels on the art of successfully acquiring and maintaining a principality. His concept of ‘virtu’ is central to the work which prescribes a digression from societal norms1 and is presented as the fundamental element of a model prince. Key to his theory is historical figure Agathocles, whose methods are discussed with great opinion2, as he surpassed morality, to ‘mantenere lo stato’.

Machiavelli emphasises how fortune controls half of life’s circumstances3 ;impossible to predict or manipulate. Thus, an overreliance on good fortune is dangerous when dealing with rulership success: the fortune that had been procured so quickly, could shift just as unexpectedly. Without real strategic prowess, the prince will fail. “ Luck or favour played little or no part in [Agathocles’] success,”4 underscores an undoubtable degree of admiration, emphasising how Agathocles navigated his leadership through sheer skill, which Machiavelli urges for5.

A great part of Agathocles' success derived from acting “contrary to faith”6, like when he seized control by exterminating the ruling class by deceiving the Grandi7. Machiavelli highlights that extreme measures are necessary if they benefit the attainment of the state8, applauding Agathocles’ “dangerous courses of action”9. If there is a choice between the benefits of being loved or feared- to be feared triumphs10, as a display of compassion may result in a challenge to authority, as shown with the example of Alexander the Great11.

However, despite successful endeavors, Machiavelli maintains how the extremity of Agathocles’ actions are not to be emulated. He makes the valuable distinction between “power”- only achieved by Agathocles’ methods- and “glory,”- being essential for a Prince12 Despite admiring Agathocles’ “indomitable spirit,”13 Machiavelli ultimately condemns his “inhumane conduct”14 because a deviation from good must only happen when necessary15.

Incurring hatred of the people16 is perilous, as this could cause conspiracy. A prince must avoid this through independent intellect, as some may transpire disloyal17. However, Machiavelli’s treatise recognises the necessity for princely advisors and respect from the ‘popolo’, so advises the maintenance of image18. Despite still being well regarded19, Agathocles’ reputation being emulated would ultimately ruin the state. It is longevity, rather than initial impact of rulership which defines a model leader, Agathocles therefore a futile princely model.

Ultimately, while Agathocles' duration and skill is commended by Machiavelli20, a greater admiration is reserved for Borgia for his perfect display of virtù21. Machiavelli’s allegory of the fox and the lion22 stresses the delicate balance between strength and virtu necessary for lasting greatness23. Agathocles’ rule excessively prioritised strength, veering towards a vice in contrast to virtu. Thus, Machiavelli has a greater admiration for Borgia, a model Prince who achieved the balance for maintaining the state.

Footnotes:

1 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 5-6. 2 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 30-34. 3 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 84-87. 4 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 5 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp .93-100. 6 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 61-63. 7 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 8 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 58-61.  9 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 10 Machiavelli, pp. 58-61. 11 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 19-22. 12 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 13 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 14 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 15 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp.37-39.  16 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 51-54.  17 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp. 54-84.  18 Machiavelli, pp. 51-54. 19 Machiavelli, pp. 30-34. 20 Machiavelli, pp. 51-54. 21 Russell Price, ‘Virtù in Machiavelli’s Il Principe and Discorsi’, Political science, 22: 2 (1970), pp. 43-49.  22 Machiavelli, pp. 51-54. 23 Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988) pp.15-17.

Bibliography:

Primary Source:

Machiavelli, The Prince, ed. By Quentin Skinner, Russell Price (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1988)

Secondary sources:

Humfrey Butters, ‘Machiavelli and the Medici’, in The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed. by John M. Najemy (Cambridge: CUP, 2010), pp 64-79

J. P. McCormick, ‘The Enduring Ambiguity of Machiavellian Virtue: Cruelty, Crime, and Christianity in The Prince’, Social Research, 81:1 (special issue: Machiavelli’s The Prince: 500 Years Later) (Spring, 2014): 133-164

Jurdjevic, Mark, ‘Political cultures’, in The Cambridge Companion to The Italian Renaissance, ed. by Michael Wyatt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014)

McCormick, John P, ‘The Enduring Ambiguity of Machiavellian Virtue: Cruelty, Crime and Christianity in ‘The Prince’, 81 (2014) pp. 133-164

Prosperi, Adriano, ‘Religion’, The Italian Renaissance (2014) pp. 276 – 297 Price, Russell, ‘Virtù in Machiavelli’s Il Principe and Discorsi’, Political science, 22: 2 (1970), 43-49

[indiasessays]

A Visual Journal of Spectatorship

In Portrait of a Lady on Fire by Céline Sciamma, Deep Weather by Biemann, Vertigo by Hitchcock and Rocky Horror Picture Show by Sharman.

In this pivotal scene, taken from Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, female protagonists Marianne and Héloïse realise their love for each other, their intimacy providing a tactile spectatorship. There is a shift from the passive muse and active painter2 , instead presenting a mutual observation. Sciamma’s film fights to interrogate the concept of ‘the male gaze’, whereby there is a subject placed at a distance who has an unfair vantage point being observed in an objectifying way without their consent3 . Instead, this lesbian romance aims to present a liminal space between the characters, rather than a distance4 . Despite Marianne’s slightly elevated positioning as the painter, there is no hierarchical gaze, as she chooses to place herself in Héloïse’s sedentary position5 . This scene represents how the women share equal ground, directly next to each other, sharing the same appearance. The combination of the colours of their dresses (Marianne’s red is reminiscent of desire: a symbol of their growing mutual passion. Héloïse’s green represents growth and the possibility of change) placed visually next to each other, foreshadowing the women’s soon to be relationship. In her article ‘The Defiant Muse’6 , Alice Blackhurst writes how they overcome the typical objectifying nature of visual pleasure, as there is no dominating gaze. This provides a more engaging looking experience for the spectator, as they are complicit with the mutual objectification7 , allowing the character's emotions to be further understood. The use of close-up images and proximity between the characters creates a haptic visuality8 : their gaze becomes touch9 . The spectator is drawn to the women's bare chest, depicted intentionally as glowing and satiny10, creating a natural but not strictly realistic feel. This tactile spectatorship creates an intimate encounter between the spectator and the unique relationship between the women11 . We can see what there is to be seen, but also what is heard and felt12 . This scene underpins an exploration of mutual observation, transcending the traditional viewer- viewed dynamic.

Footnotes:

1 Still taken from Sciamma, C. (2020). Portrait of a Lady on Fire [Movie].

2Alice Blackhurst, The Defiant Muse (2019), Los Angeles Review of Books [accessed 20 March 2024].

3 Laura Mulvey, ‘Introduction’ Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, 16, (1975) 6-18 (11).

4 Jennifer Barker, ‘Introduction: Eye Contact’, The Tactile Eye: Touch and the Cinematic Experience, 51 (2010), 1-22 (12).

5 Alice Blackhurst, The Defiant Muse (2019), Los Angeles Review of Books [accessed 20 March 2024].

6 Alice Blackhurst, The Defiant Muse (2019), Los Angeles Review of Books [accessed 20 March 2024].

7 Clara Bradbury-Rance, ‘One: Painting’, Lesbian legibility and queer legacy in Céline Sciamma’s Portrait de la Jeune Fille en Feu, 23 (2019) 172-175 (174).

8 Laura U. Marks, ‘Introduction’’ in The Skin of the Film: Intercultural Cinema, Embodiment, and the Senses (Duke University Press, 2000) 1-23 (22).

9 Clara Bradbury-Rance, ‘Three: Touching’, Lesbian legibility and queer legacy in Céline Sciamma’s Portrait de la Jeune Fille en Feu, 23 (2019) 177-180 (178).

10 Emma Wilson ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ in Céline Sciamma (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2021) 86-106 (89).

11 Jennifer Barker, ‘Introduction: Eye Contact’, The Tactile Eye: Touch and the Cinematic Experience, 51 (2010), 1-22 (2).

12 Jennifer Barker, ‘Introduction: Eye Contact’, The Tactile Eye: Touch and the Cinematic Experience, 51 (2010), 1-22 (8).

In this still, taken from Deep Weather, Ursula Biemann captures a wide shot of a piece of nature which has been destroyed by humanity, encouraging an ecological spectatorship whereby the spectator is forced to consider and therefore rectify the ecological implications presented. This compels the spectator to recognise the Anthropocene (climate change produced by human actions), through the aesthetic practice of cinema14: an instrument through which a new world damaged by climate change is revealed as hidden in the previously undamaged one15 . Biemann’s use of a bird's eye shot provides an unrecogniseable image: it is no longer a planet, but an ill-fated star, 16 due to an effort to make earth more fruitful for human flourishing, making it inhospitable. This is particularly evident in the industrial imagery of the diggers, which continue to destroy and mutilate the land. The grey and black colours create an unrecognisable image of planet earth, reminding the spectator that it once would have been green (visible at the top of the frame). This is reminiscent of Sigmund Freud's 'uncanny'17 (a psychological experience of an event that is unsettling in an oddly familiar way) and Bill Mckibben's unnerving concept of 'eaarth'18 (the concept that the earth appears to be our home, but there is a difference, so it must be called something different). This forces an ecological spectatorship, creating a direct confrontation to raise awareness and promote action and for the spectator to consider their role in global warming. In order to recognise and reverse the ‘anthropocene’19, humans need a level of shock regarding ecological trauma, like using the phrase ‘global warming’ rather than ‘climate change’, as the former implies something rising in danger, forcing us to act, whereas the latter gives no indication of an event worthy of action20. This can be reinforced by the disconcerting statement: "keep the birds from bathing in acid." The oxymoronic comparison of 'bathing' and 'acid' creates an almost macabre image, employing the spectator to reflect on their actions which may have contributed towards this condition. Biemann uses cinema as a rhetorical power to force the spectator into envisioning the reality of our future: one that may be inhospitable. 21 The use of film aims to achieve a feeling of emergency within the spectator: providing an insight to the world as it soon could be. Biemann does not explicitly show signs of destruction, but the mere idea of the end of the world is enough to force the viewer into an environmental spectatorship, and consequently into environmentalism.

Footnotes:

13 Still taken from Biemann, U. (2013). Deep Weather [Video].

14 Jennifer Fay ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018) 1-20 (4).

15 Jennifer Fay ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018) 1-20 (17).

16 Jennifer Fay ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018) 1-20 (2).

17 Jennifer Fay ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018) 1-20 (3).

18 Jennifer Fay ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018) 1-20 (3).

19 Timothy Morton ‘A Quake in Being An Introduction to Hyperobjects’, in Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology After the End of the World (University of Minnesota Press: 2013) 1-24 (9).

20 Timothy Morton ‘A Quake in Being An Introduction to Hyperobjects’, in Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology After the End of the World (University of Minnesota Press: 2013) 1-24 (3).

21 Jennifer Fay ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018) 1-20 (4).

This still, taken from Vertigo, depicts protagonist Scottie to the right of the screen, spying on the female lead: Madeleine, as she is unaware. This represents Laura Mulvey’s theory of ‘the male gaze23’: where the audience’s gaze is guided by the objectifying perspective of a heterosexual man. The audience is lured into participating in this, but ultimately interrogate it due to Madeleine‘s objectification. Madeleine’s central position reflects that she is the centre of Scottie’s focus and therefore of his desire. The spectator feels a sense of unease from Scottie’s presence lurking in the shadows. In turn, Madeleine’s position in the light means that she is also at the forefront of the spectator’s vision. Thus, they are a participant in Scottie's male gaze, made more apparent as Madeleine is surrounded by flowers: a symbol of femininity and innocence24 . Hitchcock evokes discomfort in the spectator, as they feel as though they are intruding on a private moment: Madeleine’s autonomy is disturbed by both Scottie and the spectator, this gaze seeming like a metaphorical ‘rape’25 . The focus on Scottie’s eye, made more visible contrasted with the shadows, depicts Mulvey’s idea of ‘scopophilia’26 (looking as a form of pleasure), as the eye presented as staring, making it apparent that he is taking in every detail of Madeleine and consequently objectifying her. The contrast between the active ‘looking’ as an action of the man compared to the passive, intransitive ‘look’ as an object of the woman is evident27 . It is not Madeleine herself who plays a key role for the spectator, but rather the desire and obsession she instils in Scottie the hero28 . Ultimately, Hitchcock lures the spectator in to experience the male gaze alongside Scottie, but presents Madeleine’s objectification in a negative light, for the spectator to interrogate the gaze and consequently abhor it.

Footnotes:

22 Still taken from Hitchcock, A. (1958). Vertigo [Movie].

23 Laura Mulvey, ‘Introduction’, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, 16 (1975) 6-18 (11).

24 Annette stott ‘The Definition of Femininity’, Floral Femininity: A Pictorial Definition, 6.2 (1992) 61-76 (66).

25 Bell Hooks, ‘The Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators', Feminist Film Theory: A Reader, 21 (1999) 307-320.

26 Mulvey pp.6-18.

27 Mary Ann Doane, ‘Subjectivity and Desire: An(other) Way of Looking’ in Contemporary Film Theory (Oxfordshire: Routledge, 1993) pp. 151-169.

28 Mulvey, p. 6-18

This still is taken from Jim Sharman’s Rocky Horror Picture Show, in the song ‘Sweet Transvestite’, where character Dr Frank-N-Furter introduces himself to characters Janet and Brad and to the audience as a proudly flamboyant, unconventional transsexual, encouraging a participative spectatorship throughout the film. This song serves to highlight the constructed and ironic nature of gender categories30 . This still captures the unconventional male clothing worn by Dr Frank-N-Furter, displaying a gender bending ensemble of a corset, fishnet stockings, high heels, and makeup. This film is an emblem of cult cinema31, as this outfit encourages cosplay (the act of dressing up as a character from a form of media), which provides the audience with an avenue of escape and a means to feel seen32 . This way, Sharman further allows fans to engage with the film in a unique, rather than passive way, adhering to its form of cult cinema33. Dr Frank-N-Furter’s gender blurring34 stance, with a hand on a popped hip, smiling seductively into the camera encourages the audience to forget about gender conformity, and join in with the singing and dancing. Typically, during this scene, the audience responds to specific lyrics with enthusiastic cheers or direct responses, such as “so come up to the lab and see what’s on the slab” in response to “how do you do, i see you’ve met my faithful handyman.” This act of community brings the audience together, cult cinema fans often referring to each other as ‘family’ who ‘get them’35 . Thus, the charismatic nature of Dr Frank-N-Furter inspires full audience participation where they can be a fan rather than just a viewer36 in order to encourage creative expression and liberation37 .

Footnotes:

29 Still taken from Sharman, J. (1975). Rocky Horror Picture Show [Movie].

30 Lynn Zubernis ‘Conventions and Cosplay’ in The Routledge Companion to Cult Cinema, ed. By Ernest Mathijs, Jamie Sexton, 1 (London, Routledge, 2019), 257-265 (262).

31 Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock ‘Introduction’ in It’s Just a Jump to the Left (New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2015) 1-13 (2).

32 Zubernis, p.262

33 Ernest Mathijs, Jamie Sexton, ‘Introduction’ in The Routledge Companion to Cult Cinema, ed. By Ernest Mathijs, Jamie Sexton, 1 (London, Routledge, 2019) 1-6 (2).

34 Zubernis p.262

35 Lynn Zubernis ‘Conventions and Cosplay’ in The Routledge Companion to Cult Cinema, ed. By Ernest Mathijs, Jamie Sexton, 1 (London, Routledge, 2019), 257-265 (257).

36 Zubernis, p.257

37 Weinstock, p.10.

Bibliography:

Barker, Jennifer ‘Introduction: Eye Contact’, The Tactile Eye: Touch and the Cinematic Experience, 51 (2010)

Blackhurst, Alice The Defiant Muse (2019), Los Angeles Review of Books [accessed 20 March 2024]

Bradbury-Rance, Clara ‘Three: Touching’, Lesbian legibility and queer legacy in Céline Sciamma’s Portrait de la Jeune Fille en Feu, 23 (2019)

Fay, Jennifer ‘Introduction’ in Inhospitable World: Cinema in the Time of the Anthropocene (Oxford Academic: 2018)

Marks, Laura U. ‘Introduction’’ in The Skin of the Film: Intercultural Cinema, Embodiment, and the Senses (Duke University Press, 2000)

Mathijs, Ernest, Sexton, Jamie ‘Introduction’ in The Routledge Companion to Cult Cinema, ed. By Ernest Mathijs, Jamie Sexton, 1 (London, Routledge, 2019)

Morton, Timothy ‘A Quake in Being An Introduction to Hyperobjects’, in Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology After the End of the World (University of Minnesota Press: 2013)

Mulvey, Laura ‘Introduction’ Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, 16, (1975)

Weinstock, Jeffrey Andrew ‘Introduction’ in It’s Just a Jump to the Left (New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2015) 11

Wilson, Emma ‘Introduction: Portraits’ in Céline Sciamma (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2021)

Zubernis, Lynn ‘Conventions and Cosplay’ in The Routledge Companion to Cult Cinema, ed. By Ernest Mathijs, Jamie Sexton, 1 (London, Routledge, 2019)

[indiasessays]

Close audio-visual sequence analysis

(00:24:29-0:27:29 of Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo.)

Hitchcock’s psychological film ‘Vertigo1’ invites the spectator to witness, participate and consequently interrogate the ‘male gaze’: a theory coined by Mulvey in the 1970s2, where the audience’s gaze is guided by the objectifying perspective of a heterosexual man. The male protagonist (Scottie) becomes obsessed with watching the female protagonist (Madeleine) who becomes the object of his desire. Hitchcock uses the camera eye to replicate Scottie’s eyeline: the use of extended shots and zooms guides the spectator to gaze for themselves and become aware of the objectification taking place. The ‘male gaze’ becomes apparent in the sequence 0:24:29-0:27:29, where Scottie follows Madeleine to a museum and to her hotel and watches her from the shadows. 

The sequence opens with a wide shot of Scottie in the foreground and Madeleine in the centre of the background. Madeleine’s central positioning reflects that she is Scottie’s central focus, thus the intended focus for the spectator. Hitchcock depicts an intrusion on a private moment and lack of consent. The viewer feels a sense of discomfort as Madeleine’s autonomy is violated, Scottie’s gaze a metaphorical ‘rape3’. Unaware of Scottie’s gaze, Madeleine is in a disadvantaged position, further established when Scottie’s high position as a police investigator is considered, maintaining Scottie’s dominance and privilege as a man on ‘the right side of the law’. When Scottie watches her in the window from below as she removes a layer of clothing, Hitchcock instils discomfort in the viewer with his lack of camera movement: the focus is on Madeleine and the fact that she is undressing. The shot does not veer from her until she moves away from the window, implying that Scottie feels no culpability, only distracted when she is no longer visible. The audience becomes highly aware of Scottie’s ‘male gaze’, and is invited to question it.

Mulvey’s mention of ‘scopophilia4’, whereby looking itself is a form of pleasure is evident in the shot where the camera shows the flickering movement of Scottie’s eyes as he scrutinises Madeleine. The spectator feels uneasy by Scottie’s lurking in the shadows, as this suggests  malintent. Hitchcock’s deep zooming into the flowers and hair of Madeleine feel particularly invasive, as it represents Scottie’s unwavering stare. Encapsulating the intensity and force of Scottie’s gaze reinforces the idea that he holds power, as Madeleine remains wholly passive: silently oblivious. Doane correctly distinguishes the active ‘looking’ of a man, in comparison to the passive ‘looking’ of a woman which is intransitive: she simply ‘looks’ beautiful5. Madeleine’s blonde hair is reminiscent of the sexualised Hollywood ‘bleach blonde’ of the fifties, like ‘sex symbol’: Marilyn Monroe6. Thus, Madeleine’s function is simply an erotic object7 for the characters and the spectator. The occasional shot upon Scottie shifts the viewer’s perspective, as their view of madeleine is abruptly removed. They are consequently able to watch Scottie objectifying Madeleine, inviting them to interrogate his gaze. 

Mulvey emphasises the privilege and power of being a heterosexual man. Scottie walks into the museum and the hotel with agency, free to command the stage8, directing the worker to join him in looking at “that lady”. There is power in looking9: the more Scottie perceives Madeleine, the more he learns about her. Hitchcock provides a sexual imbalance10 through Scottie’s power and omniscience contrast to Madeleine's lack of awareness and the viewer realises that the woman's role in itself is not important, but the love and fear she instils11 in the hero is. This acknowledgment highlights the androcentrism of the male gaze. 

Hitchcock creates a sense of Scottie entering a fantasy world12, as Madeleine and the painting are located within an archway, reinforcing the idea that Madeleine is not a person, but simply an object to be looked at13. He is simply falling in love with a perfect image. The use of bright lights and darkness also creates “an illusion of looking in on a private world”14. Hitchcock compares Madeleine to the painting, panning over them individually to reflect the intensity and detail of Scottie’s gaze. When Scottie exits and continues to gaze from afar in the shadows, the foreground becomes blurred, depicting Madeleine as Scottie’s sole focus. This also evokes a slightly more cynical image: the viewer is reminded that this voyeurism is unsolicited. Yet, as Madeleine is in the light, the viewer becomes a participant: by following Scottie’s eyeline, Madeleine is at the forefront of their vision too.  

Hitchcock places great emphasis on the act of ‘looking’, and cleverly allows the viewer to become ‘caught up’ in Madeleine’s objectification. Yet, with Mulvey’s theory in mind, and shots which force the viewer to watch Scottie watching Madeleine, rather than watch her with him, the audience can criticise Scottie, and interrogate his gaze. 

Footnotes:

1Vertigo, dir. by Alfred Hitchcock (Paramount Pictures, 1958), online film recording, UCL, <https://resources.clie.ucl.ac.uk/home/player/18062/9383d1c34e3bb6920051dc2d2f524528> [accessed 21 January 2024]. 

2 Laura Mulvey, ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’, Screen, 16.3 (1975),pp. 6-18. 

3 Bell Hooks, ‘The Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators', Feminist Film Theory: A Reader, 21 (1999) 307-320. 

4 Mulvey pp.6-18. 

5 Mary Ann Doane, ‘Subjectivity and Desire: An(other) Way of Looking’ in Contemporary Film Theory (Oxfordshire: Routledge, 1993) pp. 151-169. 

6 Erika Balsom, ‘In Search of the Female Gaze', (2020), Everand, <https://www.everand.com/article/562446272/In-Search-Of-The-Female-Gaze> [accessed 12 February 2024]. 

7 Mulvey pp.6-18.

8 Mulvey pp.6-18. 

9 Bell Hooks, ‘The Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators', Feminist Film Theory: A Reader, 21 (1999) 307-320. 

10 Mulvey pp.6-18. 

11 Mulvey pp.6-18. 

12 Tom Gunning, ‘Hitchcock and the Picture in the Frame’, 28 (2007) pp. 14-31. 

13 Mulvey pp.6-18. 

14 Mulvey pp.6-18. 

Bibliography: 

Primary source: 

Vertigo, dir. by Alfred Hitchcock (Paramount Pictures, 1958), online film recording, UCL, <https://resources.clie.ucl.ac.uk/home/player/18062/9383d1c34e3bb6920051dc2d2f524528> [accessed 21 January 2024]. 

Secondary Sources: 

Balsom, Erika,  ‘In Search of the Female Gaze', (2020), Everand, <https://www.everand.com/article/562446272/In-Search-Of-The-Female-Gaze> [accessed 12 February 2024]  

Doane, Mary Ann, ‘Subjectivity and Desire: An(other) Way of Looking’ in 

Contemporary Film Theory (Oxfordshire: Routledge, 1993) 

Freud, Sigmund, Three essays on sexuality, trans. by James Strachey (London: Imago Publishing, 1949) 

Gunning, Tom, ‘Hitchcock and the Picture in the Frame’, 28 (2007) 

Hooks, Bell, ‘The Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators', Feminist Film Theory: A Reader, 21 (1999) 

Lacan, Jacques, The Split between the Eye and the Gaze, trans. by Alan Sheridan (New York: Norton, 1978) 

Mulvey, Laura, ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’, Screen, 16.3 (1975) 

[indiasessays]

London witchcraft museum display concept.

SAMPLE MUSEUM:

There exist many displays and presentations of witchcraft, including in the museum of London itself, which, even as part of a politically mindful twenty first century society, readily accept ‘witchcraft’ as a reality by presenting ‘magical’ artefacts and spell books, overlooking its misogynistic derivative and neglect to address the reasons for and the effects of the emergence of this historical phenomenon. Thus, this display will present witchcraft throughout London’s history, but with a sociopolitical focus, educating both adults and children on the reasons why this phenomenon came about, highlighting the suffering that women had to endure, and introducing the idea that ‘witchcraft’ was and is not a thing in itself, but a camouflaged means of ostracising and othering women, throughout history.  There is a great importance in changing the way that witchcraft is perceived. If not, this simply prolongs unseen inherent sexism. This display will personalise those who suffered, allowing for this genocide to be viewed like any other, serving as a reminder of the danger of propaganda.

The Museum of London states that it is a social museum, focussed on providing a learning experience about society throughout time, connecting people with the lived experience of London. However, the lived experience of the women who suffered false witchcraft accusations are not properly acknowledged. London being the hub for England’s most prevalent history therefore had a first hand experience of the witchcraft phenomenon. London prides itself on its inclusion and celebration of every type of person, thus by providing a better understanding of the segregation of women during this period, equality can be further established. Issues of feminism continue to be of great prevalence, so it is important that all constructs containing misogynistic undertone are stripped down to reveal their inherent sexism.

In order to captivate the interest of as many as possible, this display will be immersive and interactive: an experience rather than a ‘lesson’. Being properly involved, people are far more likely to form and maintain interest. There will not be any disadvantages for those with lower literacy levels, children or the elderly. There is the option to read more of the information through the means of a leaflet (provided at the end), or via a QR code (provided at every section), so the visitor is able to immerse themselves to their own desire and in their own time, in order to appeal to all. There will be seven sections, each focused on different time periods in order to create curiosity and maintain interest. There will be a combination of activities and objects with information in order to appeal to all age groups.

There will be seven sections to the display, presenting a chronological history of witchcraft in London, exhibited in different themes.

The first section introduces the viewer to the root of witchcraft in London. There is a display table containing two ancient artefacts. First, the Roman amulet used to ‘magically’ prevent illness and disease, and second, a medieval lead pilgrim badge used as a means of ‘magically’ protecting oneself against sickness. These two objects remind the viewer that superstition existed long before the concept of witchcraft and- typically worn by men- cause the visitor to disconnect magic and superstition from women. The amulet was also found in the Thames: a roman map of London will be displayed alongside this, pin-pointing the river, to enforce the object’s, therefore the subject of witchcraft’s, direct connection to London. This section contains the ‘Malleus Maleficarum,’ which was a document published in Germany in 1486 claiming that witchcraft was treason against God. Despite not being an originally English document, this artefact is paramount as it initiated the idea of witchcraft as a diabolical sin committed by women. It was eventually widespread throughout Europe, which resulted in the final object: a clipping from Henry VIII’s witchcraft act from 1541, which was the first English document to criminalise witchcraft- punishable by death. There will be a translation provided underneath in order for the information to be properly comprehended. It was this document which resulted in witch trials. 

The second section focusses on the introduction to the prosecution. There are two old drawings mounted, which depict the hangings in Tyburn Gallows of women found ‘guilty’ of witchcraft. There is also a map, drawn in this era (the 16th century), drawn to portray ‘The Great Hunt’ of London, which involved the upswing of the persecution of accused women. In the display cabinet on the right, is a medieval ‘witch bottle’, which contained a combination of objects like hair, pins, nails, thought to repel witches. These objects successfully convey witchcraft in London at this time to be something of an epidemic. The piece of rope and the stone plaque on the left are specifically connected to one ‘witch’ in particular who was hanged: Anne Kerke . Not only does this further connect to London, but personalises the women involved, while creating a macabre visual to force the viewer to truly understand the suffering that took place. 

The third section concentrates on the trials which later took place in London, where witches would be tied up and pushed into the thames, pronounced guilty if they floated, innocent if they drowned. Often, due to the loose clothing worn at the time and the way they were tied (right thumb to left toe), women were likely to float, and if they did not, they would die anyway. There is a ‘witches aprehended’ poster which would have been used in the 16th century, whose constant threat would have scared women into subordination. The iron rivets displayed in the cabinet resembles those that would have been driven into the legs of those pronounced guilty, to stop them from ‘rising from the grave.’ The atrocity that these objects represent hope to have an impact on the visitors. 

The following section gives the visitor a break from information, and is wholly interactive. There will be a box full of small cloth dolls, wearing loose clothing. There will also be modern replicas of the previous discussed iron rivets. The visitor will have the opportunity of pinning the doll into the position that the witch would have been in, and throw it into a model of the thames, in order to visualise its brutality. On the right hand side is a model of a dress that a 16th century woman would have worn, which- upon lifting the skirts weight- one can apprehend the women’s certain demise.

The fifth section depicts some real women who were accused of witchcraft in London. The first: a pamphlet which circulated London, accusing Joan Peterson, ‘the witch of wapping’, of morphing into a black cat, bewitchment and talking to animals. As a herbalist, this profession commonly resulted in witchcraft accusations. Due to the rise in male medical profession, women would become healers to establish their own rights to medical care. The concern of female rivalry would of course allow for such accusations to be taken at face value, thus witchcraft accusations only became more and more frequent. The second woman, Jinney Bingham, (known as ‘the witch of Kentish Town’ ) was accused of witchcraft following the mysterious deaths of three of her husbands. Notorious for the accompaniment of her black cat, it is likely that this is what created the stereotype of a witch having a ‘familiar.’ Having a cat was also common due to the domesticated role of a woman, enforced by men. With such high pressure to be a good housewife, often, a woman would find it easier to admit to magical interference than to admit incompetency. This of course became dangerous in the rise of witch trials, so a woman was now either punished for poor housewifery, or for being a witch. The final case displays a clipping of the Old Bailey proceedings (the place where many witchcraft heatings took place) of Jane Kent, accused for bewitchment after being denied a bargain for swine. Not only does this object depict a real, once very relevant place in London (also shown through an image drawn in the 18th century), but also reveals the link between women who showed some sort of dominance and consequently being accused of witchcraft. The idea of witchcraft being an easy means for men to reduce women, becomes evident.

The sixth section moves to the early twentieth century, when women started to reclaim the term ‘witch’ and used it as a means of protestation or empowerment. Included is a framed record of the song ‘the art of witchcraft’ by Babetta- or ‘Babetta the sexy witch’- along with a speaker with a button, which the visitor would be able to press and listen to should they wish. During the late sixties, LPs with narrated rituals and spells became popular due to the decade’s interest in breaking societal conventions. After it became illegal to make witchcraft accusations in 1735, women were free to fight the convention, and the witch started to symbolise female empowerment. The W.I.T.C.H. (women’s international terrorist conspiracy from hell) movement began in America within the rise of second wave feminism. Despite not having a direct link to London, efforts to destigmatise witchcraft and empower womanhood like these, have contributed to religions such as paganism and Wicca now being widely accepted and celebrated in London: there are hundreds of shops and meeting places. ‘Witches’ of today focus on herbology and cartomancy, which was what the accused women in the past were actually practicing, not necessarily black magic. At the end of this section is a poster of the festival ‘witchfest’, which  is a long weekend of celebrating paganism which takes place in Croydon every year. At this point in the exhibit, if a visitor finds themselves interested in learning more about modern witchcraft they have the opportunity of looking into it further.

In the final section of the display is a station where the visitors can make their own herbal spray: a common use of modern day magic. This hands on activity will further influence the visitors into associating magic and witchcraft with the ‘magic’ of plants and medicinal healing, rather than evil women. There is also a screen mounted onto the wall, desgigned to replicate the look of a modern day iPhone, where visitors can watch tiktoks of modern day witches. There will also be a QR code provided which will take someone with the app already on their phone to see all the videos underneath the hashtag #witchtok. This is an interactive way for a modern audience to learn more about witchcraft in modernity. 

Footnotes:

  1. Philippa Carter, ‘Work, Gender and Witchcraft in Early Modern England’, Gender & History (2023).

2.  John G Kennedy, ‘Psychological and Social Explanations of Witchcraft’, Man, 2 (1967) pp.216-225.

3.  John G Kennedy, ‘Psychological and Social Explanations of Witchcraft’, Man, 2 (1967) pp 216-225.

4.  Danielle Thom, From Witches To Wellness: Medicine And Magic In London (2020), Museum Of London < https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/witches-wellness-medicine-and-magic-london > [accessed 22 December 2023].

5.  Danielle Thom, From Witches To Wellness: Medicine And Magic In London (2020), Museum Of London < https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/witches-wellness-medicine-and-magic-london > [accessed 22 December 2023].

6.  Iris S DeLis, Witches as Queer(ed) Comrades: How Patriarchy, Sexism and Religious Fanaticism Fueled the Early Modern European Witch Hunts (2021), PDXScholar <https://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2365&context=honorstheses> [accessed 14 January 2024].

7.  Rachael Davis, Gruesome Story Of First Ever 'Witch' To Be Executed In London (2021), My London <https://www.mylondon.news/news/nostalgia/gruesome-story-londons-first-ever-19746059> [accessed 23 December 2023].

8.  Rachael Davis, Gruesome Story Of First Ever 'Witch' To Be Executed In London (2021), My London <https://www.mylondon.news/news/nostalgia/gruesome-story-londons-first-ever-19746059> [accessed 23 December 2023].

9.  Alan Anderson; Gordon Raymond, ‘Witchcraft and the Status of Women- the Case of England’, British Journal of Sociology, 29 (1978) pp171-184.

10.  Allison C Meier, Is There a Witch Bottle in Your House? (2019), JSTOR daily <https://daily.jstor.org/is-there-a-witch-bottle-in-your-house/> [accessed 24 December].

11.  Rachael Davis, Gruesome Story Of First Ever 'Witch' To Be Executed In London (2021), My London <https://www.mylondon.news/news/nostalgia/gruesome-story-londons-first-ever-19746059> [accessed 23 December 2023].

12.  John Rabon, The Hexing of London – The City’s History of Witches (2019), Londontopia <https://londontopia.net/history/the-hexing-of-london-the-citys-history-of-witches/#:~:text=In%20England%2C%20persecution%20of%20witches,the%20law%20occurred%20in%201599> [accessed 10 January 2024].

13.  William Jewell, The Golden Cabinet of True Treasure (2011), Text Creation Partnership <https://textcreationpartnership.org/using-tcp-content/citing-the-tcp/> [accessed 17 January 2024].

14.  Rachael Davis, Gruesome Story Of First Ever 'Witch' To Be Executed In London (2021), My London <https://www.mylondon.news/news/nostalgia/gruesome-story-londons-first-ever-19746059> [accessed 23 December 2023].

15.  Rachael Davis, Gruesome Story Of First Ever 'Witch' To Be Executed In London (2021), My London <https://www.mylondon.news/news/nostalgia/gruesome-story-londons-first-ever-19746059> [accessed 23 December 2023].

16.  Alison Murray, Witches Of The East End (2020), East End Women’s Museum <https://eastendwomensmuseum.org/blog/2020/8/12/witches-of-the-east-end> [accessed 22 December 2023].

17.  Brian P Levack, The Oxford Handbook of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe and Colonial America, ed. By Brian P. Levack, second edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013) p. 449.

18.  Randall Martin, Women And Poison, in Women, Murder and Equity in Early Modern England (London: Routledge, 2008) pp123-155.

19.  Markham Gervase, the English Housewife, ed. By Michael R. Best (London: R. Jackson, 1623)

20. Diane Purkiss, ‘Women's Stories of Witchcraft in Early Modern England: The House, The Body, The Child’, in Gender & History, 7 (1995) pp408-432.

21. Katie McCabe, A Brief History Of London’s Forgotten Witches (2021), Time Out <https://www.timeout.com/london/news/a-brief-history-of-londons-forgotten-witches-103017> [accessed 23 December 2023].

22.    Katharine Hodgkin, ‘Historians and Witches’, History Workshop Journal, 45(1998) pp. 271-277

23.  Melanie Xulu, Looking Back At A Time Where Major Labels Were Releasing Witchcraft Rituals (2019), Dazed <https://www.dazeddigital.com/music/article/45437/1/remembering-the-era-of-witchcraft-occult-lp-albums> [accessed 23 December 2023].

24.  Fredric Jameson, ‘Periodising the 60s’, The 60s Without Apology, 9 (1984) pp.178-209.

25.  Allison C Meier, Ectoplasm and the Last British Woman Tried for Witchcraft (2018), JSTOR daily <https://daily.jstor.org/ectoplasm-and-the-last-british-woman-tried-for-witchcraft/> [accessed 17 January 2024].

26.  Jessica Crispin , Feminism’s Hidden Spiritual Side (2021), JSTOR daily <https://daily.jstor.org/feminisms-hidden-spiritual-side/> [accessed 11 January 2024].

27.  Katie Wills, They Wear Balenciaga, Cast Spells on Instagram Live and Swear by Sound-Healing—Meet the New Breed of London Witches (2021) <https://www.standard.co.uk/lifestyle/london-witches-feminism-urban-witchcraft-b962858.html> [accessed 24 December 2023].

28.  Ronald Hutton, ‘Paganism and Polemic: The Debate over the Origins of Modern Pagan Witchcraft’, Folklore, 111 (2000) pp.103-117.

29.  Katie McCabe, A Brief History Of London’s Forgotten Witches (2021), Time Out <https://www.timeout.com/london/news/a-brief-history-of-londons-forgotten-witches-103017> [accessed 23 December 2023]

30.  Ronald Hutton, ‘Paganism and Polemic: The Debate over the Origins of Modern Pagan Witchcraft’, Folklore, 111 (2000) pp.103-117.

31.  Katie Wills, They Wear Balenciaga, Cast Spells on Instagram Live and Swear by Sound-Healing—Meet the New Breed of London Witches (2021) <https://www.standard.co.uk/lifestyle/london-witches-feminism-urban-witchcraft-b962858.html> [accessed 24 December 2023].

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anderson Alan; Gordon Raymond, ‘Witchcraft and the Status of Women- the Case of England’, British Journal of Sociology, 29 (1978)

Bever Edward, ‘Witchcraft, Female Aggression, and Power in the Early Modern Community’, Journal of Social History, 35 (2002)

Birks Arran, The ‘Hammer of Witches’: An Earthquake in the Early Witch Craze (2020), The     Historian <https://projects.history.qmul.ac.uk/thehistorian/2020/01/24/the-malleus-maleficarum-an-earthquake-in-the-early-witch-craze/> [accessed 16 January 2024]

Carter Philippa, ‘Work, Gender and Witchcraft in Early Modern England’, Gender & History (2023)

Crispin Jessica, Feminism’s Hidden Spiritual Side (2021), JSTOR daily <https://daily.jstor.org/feminisms-hidden-spiritual-side/> [accessed 11 January 2024]

Davies Owen, ‘Urbanization and the Decline of Witchcraft: An Examination of London’, Journal of Social History, 30 (1997)

Davis Rachael, Gruesome Story Of First Ever 'Witch' To Be Executed In London (2021), My London <https://www.mylondon.news/news/nostalgia/gruesome-story-londons-first-ever-19746059> [accessed 23 December 2023]

DeLis Iris S, Witches as Queer(ed) Comrades: How Patriarchy, Sexism and Religious Fanaticism Fueled the Early Modern European Witch Hunts (2021), PDXScholar <https://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2365&context=honorstheses> [accessed 14 January 2024]

Eller, Cynthia Living in the Lap of the Goddess: The Feminist Spirituality Movement in America, (Boston: Beacon Press, 1995)

Evans-Pritchard E.E, ‘WITCHCRAFT, ORACLES AND MAGIC AMONG THE AZANDE’, Sudan Notes and Records, 22 (1939)

Hodgkin Katharine, ‘Historians and Witches’, History Workshop Journal, 45(1998)

Hutton Ronald, ‘Paganism and Polemic: The Debate over the Origins of Modern Pagan Witchcraft’, Folklore, 111 (2000)

Jameson Fredric, ‘Periodising the 60s’, The 60s Without Apology, 9 (1984)

Jewell William, The Golden Cabinet of True Treasure (2011), Text Creation Partnership <https://textcreationpartnership.org/using-tcp-content/citing-the-tcp/> [accessed 17 January 2024]

Kennedy John G, ‘Psychological and Social Explanations of Witchcraft’, Man, 2 (1967)

Levack Brian P, The Oxford Handbook of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe and Colonial America, ed. By Brian P. Levack, second edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013)

Markham Gervase, the English Housewife, ed. By Michael R. Best (London: R. Jackson, 1623)

Martin Randall, Women And Poison, in Women, Murder and Equity in Early Modern England (London: Routledge, 2008)

McCabe Katie, A Brief History Of London’s Forgotten Witches (2021), Time Out <https://www.timeout.com/london/news/a-brief-history-of-londons-forgotten-witches-103017> [accessed 23 December 2023]

Meier Allison C, Is There a Witch Bottle in Your House? (2019), JSTOR daily <https://daily.jstor.org/is-there-a-witch-bottle-in-your-house/> [accessed 24 December]

Meier Allison C, Ectoplasm and the Last British Woman Tried for Witchcraft (2018), JSTOR daily <https://daily.jstor.org/ectoplasm-and-the-last-british-woman-tried-for-witchcraft/> [accessed 17 January 2024]

Mohdin Aamna, 'Waking Up To Our Power': Witchcraft Gets Political (2019), The Guardian <https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/nov/08/witchfest-croydon-magic-occult-feminism-witches> [accessed 23 December]

Murray Alison, Witches Of The East End (2020), East End Women’s Museum <https://eastendwomensmuseum.org/blog/2020/8/12/witches-of-the-east-end> [accessed 22 December 2023]

Murray M.A, ‘Witches’ Familiars in England’, Great Britain: Witchcraft, 18 (1918)

Purkiss Diane, ‘Women's Stories of Witchcraft in Early Modern England: The House, The Body, The Child’, in Gender & History, 7 (1995)

Purkiss Diane, The Witch in History: Early Modern and Twentieth-Century Representations,1 (Routledge, 1996)

Rabon John, The Hexing of London – The City’s History of Witches (2019), Londontopia <https://londontopia.net/history/the-hexing-of-london-the-citys-history-of-witches/#:~:text=In%20England%2C%20persecution%20of%20witches,the%20law%20occurred%20in%201599> [accessed 10 January 2024]

 Randall Martin, Women, Murder and Equity in Early Modern England (London: Routledge, 2008), ch. 4.

Thom Danielle, From Witches To Wellness: Medicine And Magic In London (2020), Museum Of London < https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/witches-wellness-medicine-and-magic-london > [accessed 22 December 2023]

Who is Elizabeth Sawyer and why is she considered one of the most infamous witches of the Stuart age? (2023), The London Dungeon, <https://www.thedungeons.com/london/information/news/who-was-elizabeth-sawyer-anniversary-of-her-death/#:~:text=London%20Witch%20Trials,be%20conspiring%20with%20the%20devil.> [accessed 17 January 2024]

Wills Katie, They Wear Balenciaga, Cast Spells on Instagram Live and Swear by Sound-Healing—Meet the New Breed of London Witches (2021) <https://www.standard.co.uk/lifestyle/london-witches-feminism-urban-witchcraft-b962858.html> [accessed 24 December 2023]

Xulu Melanie, Looking Back At A Time Where Major Labels Were Releasing Witchcraft Rituals (2019), Dazed <https://www.dazeddigital.com/music/article/45437/1/remembering-the-era-of-witchcraft-occult-lp-albums> [accessed 23 December 2023]

PRE MORTEM:

Despite a great variety of activities and means of engaging the visitors, there are still some flaws, which could be rectified. The most prevalent weakness is the sheer size of the display, which could hold several different ones. Would the Museum of London want to dedicate so much space to just one topic- particularly one that is not wholly unique to the city of London itself? It must also be acknowledged that despite many hooks to engage the visitors, these are not visible until you enter each of the sections. From the outside, it would not be possible to see any of the display, so would this cause a lack of interest? There would be no immediate captivity (particularly for a child), and it would consequently benefit from some sort of signage informing the visitors of what the display will consist of in order to draw them in. There may also be issues regarding convenience of space. The first complication is that people would be constantly moving in and out of the different rooms, so would potentially create ‘traffic’ and cause the visitors to feel like they should rush in order to make room for others. It may be difficult for someone to read the information on the sides of the walls while another is trying to observe what is on the main wall. Especially for those in wheelchairs, having to continuously move in and out of a room would prove impractical. Furthermore, there is less freedom to leave and return. For example, one may want to read some of the information but find the speaker playing music distracting, but would have to leave the room and re enter. The second complication is that, once inside the different sections, the display cabinets and tables become a hindrance as they obstruct the vision of some of the labels and objects. With the display curated for both adults and children, there is also a risk of damage with having glass and precious artefacts in a semi enclosed space. Although the display has been designed with all age ranges in mind, there are evidently still sections better suited to adults and others for children, rather than a consistent in between. For example, would a child find the lack of touchable objects and amount of information- which may not even be visible at their height- boring? With a lack of variety and shapes, there may be no desire for a child to read the information which is essential to understanding the significance of the object. Would tiktok videos or the immersive activity with the dolls be interesting for an adult? Furthermore, the activity with the dolls may prove impractical in itself. Would there be enough dolls? How would they be returned? How would they be retrieved and dried from the water? Despite being a fun idea it may end up being too much of an inconvenience, particularly due to the use of water, and the same message could be conveyed in an alternative way. The same complications may arise with the ‘spray’ table.

[indiasessays]

A discussion on the importance of the adoption of a male narrative voice by Emilia Pardo Bazán's Memorias de un Solterón.

In nineteenth century Spain, literary naturalism, developed by Émile Zola (Zola 69) incorporated scientific ideas about human behaviour, which consequently led to authors like Galdós and Bazán using it to explore the female mind: a growing national concern. Frustrated by exclusion from the Real Academia, due to her gender, Bazán was dismissed by male peers as pushy and enigmatic. Despite increasing liberal thought, views on the wife’s role remained stoic. For Bazán,challenging bourgeois norms was only possible through the naturalist novel. As a journalist, Bazán highlighted women’s vulnerability and wrote many projects like La Biblioteca de la Mujer to foster a female readership. Her 1896 novel Memorias de un Solterón (Pardo Bazán 85–295), (Memorias henceforth) highlights the link between bourgeois ideology and restrictive female roles. With two thirds of Spain’s population illiterate and few educated women, her readers- and potential agents of change- were educated men. Though narrated by Mauro Pareja, the novel’s true protagonist is Feíta. The choice of a male narrator was deliberate: Bazán uses Pareja as a vehicle to advocate social reform, modelling him after respected male philosopher J.S.Mill. Pareja’s voice lends authority to the feminist critique, allowing it to be heard in a patriarchal society, where a female narrator- too closely aligned with Bazán- might have been dismissed. Sharing its setting with her earlier success La Tribuna (Pardo and Whittaker), Memorias invites readers to view Bazán's novels as intentional, layered texts, drawing attention to narrative choices- such as the male narrator- as central to their feminist impact.

In the first four chapters, the reader meets architect Pareja, who narrates in the first person as a memoirist. He lives a privileged, dilettante lifestyle, uninterested in professional ambition- despite its importance to nineteenth century masculinity (Pardo Bazán 787). Instead, he enjoys reading, smoking cigars, flirting with local girls, and observing others, proudly calling himself a “solterón" (Pardo Bazán 87)- distancing himself from traditional gender norms that equate manhood with marriage. Pareja’s aversion to marriage stems from a fear of sacrificing his lifestyle, but more importantly from a disdain for its institution which he sees as oppressive to

both sexes. Locals nickname him ‘El Abad’ (Pardo Bazán 787): a title suggesting asexuality and celibacy- signalling disapproval of his unmarried status. As John Tosh notes, eighteenth century masculinity depended on sexual ‘conquests’ (Tosh 112). By contrast, Pareja avoids seducing the women of his flirtations, citing the dangers women face when perceived as "damaged goods". For the nineteenth century, this stance is progressive, but his views and refusal to marry mark him as non conforming. Through his narration, Bazán critiques bourgeois pressure on both sexes to marry. Bazán uses the male gaze to deliver her critique in a way contemporary readers would accept. As Sadoff highlights, the female gaze often communicates a desire for autonomy and control; whereas through this male gaze, Bazán moderates her critique to a contemporary audience (Ordónez 155).

Yet Pareja remains anxious about conforming to masculine ideals ideals. In Chapter Four, he imagines marrying a woman who sees him as second choice: “soy la conquista” (Pardo Bazán 121). This reversal of Tosh’s masculine standard reveals deep rooted societal pressure. Though it may read as fragile masculinity, Bazán’s concern lies in how women must marry quickly- even by settling- at the expense of education or freedom. She critiques marriage not in isolation, but as a system that severely restricts women’s lives. Immersed in Pareja’s self-focused world view, the reader is invited to question traditional gender roles and their consequences.

Through Pareja’s friendship with Neira, Bazán introduces central themes: gender, class, marriage, and religion. Neira hopes one daughter will attract Sobrado REF- symbol of bourgeois society and Pareja’s foil- as a solution to familial disorder. As Scanlon notes, women themselves authored folletos (Scanlon 325) reinforcing that a woman’s role was wife or mother. With such ingrained beliefs, promoting female emancipation was nearly impossible. As Scanlon explains, women were no more convinced of their rights than men (Scanlon 64). To avoid backlash,

Bazán uses a male narrator, aligning with Miller’s concept of double-voiced discourse:

embedding radical ideas within acceptable narratives (Miller 137). This allows her to critique patriarchy without directly confronting bourgeois sensibilities.

In chapter five, Pareja meets Feíta, Neira’s daughter. Like Pareja, Feíta opposes marriage, viewing it as a threat to female autonomy (Pardo Bazán 121). Pareja initially finds her independence and lack of traditional femininity- short hair, political opinions, career ambition- unattractive and embarrassing. He is particularly unsettled when his own anti-marriage rhetoric is echoed by a woman (Pardo Bazán 192). This discomfort reflects broader nineteenth century anxieties about independent women. Feíta's pursuit of education and a career aligns her with Bazán, who was similarly labelled a "marisabidilla" for defying gender expectations and promoting education reform. Miller observes that female auto biographers are read differently depending on gender attribution (Miller 57). If Memorias is semi-autobiographical, it isunsurprising Bazán chose a male voice: Pareja’s early disdain for Feíta illustrates how educated women were pathologised.

Later, Feíta announces her desire for emancipation- a radical act at the time. Bazán weaves this into the broader narrative rather than centring it, making her critique more palatable to contemporary readers. As Gilbert and Gubar note, nineteenth century literary female characters who defied norms were often punished through silence or destruction (Bretz 89). Feíta resists this pattern, and Pareja, like the reader, is continuously surprised by Feíta's actions, which resist easy classification. His evolving perception forces him to adopt new interpretative frameworks, reflected in the novel’s shifting narrative tone. The male narrator therefore enables a gradual, acceptable introduction of feminist ideas. When Pareja reunites with Feíta after her emancipation, he finally acknowledges her appeal (Pardo Bazán 196). Here, Bazán makes emancipation itself desirable, even within the male gaze, by encompassing it as part of the

novel, rather than its entire plot. (Ordónez 146). Narrating through Pareja removes the

impression of female self-promotion and allows the reader to find female independence attractive on their own terms.

The novel’s ending whereby Feíta conforms to femininity and marries Pareja, could be deemed as conformity from Bazán. Yet, a modern reading sees this as strategic: Bazán employed tactics like the male narrator and ‘conventional’ ending to enable acceptance from elite male readers. As Bieder argues, Bazán's ending may echo her critique of Tristiana, yet her context must be considered (Harpring 206). She navigated rigid class and gender hierarchies carefully, subtly challenging them by appearing to conform. This renders emancipation compatible with integration, rather than radical disruption. For her work to be received and respected by a largely male literary establishment, she had to navigate dominant expectations- employing a male narrative voice and crafting a socially acceptable conclusion. Bazán clearly approached the potential for change with caution, aware of the rigid gender and class hierarchies of her time. She could not afford to directly defy these structures, and instead subtly challenged them by appearing to conform. Similarly, the novel critiques not marriage itself, but its traditional execution, as seen in Pareja’s ‘ball’ analogy. Thus, the final marriage is not a defeat, but a reimagining of partnership within existing constraints.

By the novel’s end, Pareja values Feíta for the traits he once opposed, undergoing a personal transformation that invites the reader to do the same. After all, modernity is shaped by the way society adapts to evolution (Harpring 196). Feíta’s refusal to marry “por chiripa,” (Pardo Bazán 450) and her insistence on marrying for love parallels Pareja’s earlier concerns in the novel. Their union thus symbolises a redefinition of norms, not a submission to them.

Pareja identifies Feíta as representing "la mujer nueva” (Pardo Bazán 218), describing “la ensangrienten los pies” (Pardo Bazán 260)- a phrase evoking martyrdom. He admits society may not yet accept women like her, but sees her as the “albor de una sociedad distinta de la que hoy existe”(Pardo Bazán 218). Feíta counters that emancipation is not impossible, asserting that women must simply “trabajen como yo”(Pardo Bazán 251). This exchange channels Bazán's critique of a society clinging to bourgeois norms out of fear- thus calling for urgent change.

Bazán presents Pareja as an unreliable narrator, despite his self image as an observer, mainly through dramatic irony. The reader notices his attraction to Feíta long before he does: though he calls her “arranque(s)” annoying, he admits they “me impulsaron a responder”(Pardo Bazán 156), revealing an unconscious fascination. Bazán thus draws the reader into Pareja’s intrigue, framing her emancipation as compelling. Hemingway argues that Memorias is a psychological novel model for others (Hemingway 144). Without foreshadowing or retrospective commentary for twenty-two chapters, Bazán lets readers track Pareja’s transformation in real time, culminating in his proud declaration as “el esposo de Feíta” (Pardo Bazán 303), the emancipated woman.

Pareja’s dream of a snake- described in feminine terms echoed in his descriptions of Feíta- symbolises suppressed desire. While Cohen and Derrick suggest a homosexual reading (Harpring 199), Bazán’s Catholicism suggests the snake represents The Fall. Feíta, as the serpent, destabilises Pareja’s beliefs, his temptation marks his fall from grace as he warms to marriage- yet he remains unaware, underscoring his unreliability. Pareja’s initial ideas about Feíta are also suspect, prompting readers to align subconsciously with her, allowing Bazán to subvert misogynist ideals.

ohen and Derrick’s reading may reflect nineteenth-century associations between femininity and homosexuality. As Silverman notes, theorists saw male homosexuals as having a ‘female soul,’ rooted in Platonic thought which equated femininity with a lack of masculinity (Harpring 199). Bazán critiques these norms by blurring gender boundaries. Pareja likens Feíta to a man: short hair, plain clothing (Pardo Bazán 178). Bieder argues Pareja’s androgyny also challengesnorms: he avoids intimacy with women and enjoys grooming. His social authority as a man lends legitimacy to his voice, but his feminine-coded traits suggest a space for feminine authority. Feíta’s masculinity lets Pareja and the reader focus on her intellect and independence. Nevertheless, Pareja enjoys male coded pleasures: cigars -exclusive to men, with phallic association- (Harpring 201), and flirtation. To a modern reader, grooming or gossip would not be seen as strictly feminine. When Feíta later turns more traditionally feminine, Bazán shows emancipation need not reject femininity. Bazán thus dismantles rigid gender roles, urging readers to confront internalised misogyny. Though Pareja narrates as a man, his masculinity defies convention, supporting Bazán’s broader critique of societal values.

Memorias must be read in dialogue with contemporary male authored depictions of women, particularly Galdós. Bazán’s responds directly to Tristana, criticising the female protagonist’s conforming to bourgeois norms by marrying and accepting domesticity. Bazán lamented the limited options for independent women. In contrast, Memorias revises gender roles, to offer a more empowering female experience. The male narrator is key to this revision, avoiding a binary gender conflict and presenting reform as a natural evolution in male thought, making her feminism more acceptable to contemporary readers. Gilbert and Gubar note that nineteenth- century male fiction rendered women wholly passive (Ordónez 152): in Tristana, the protagonist marries without agency, reverting to housework and church. Bazán subverts this model in Memorias through Feíta, who rejects Pareja’s first proposal, ensuring her eventual marriage is freely chosen and rooted in mutual respect, not obligation.

John Stuart Mill was a major influence on Bazán and Memorias, as a prominent advocate for women’s education and workplace participation. Bazán engaged directly with Mill’s work: in the years leading up to Memorias, she curated La Biblioteca de la Mujer, a series of translated feminist texts, including her Spanish translation of Mill’s The Subjection of Women (La Esclavitud Femenina). In her prologue, she applauds Mill for attempting to “cambia(r) la dirección de la gigantesca nao del humano espíritu,” (Mill 8) describing the work as the “corona de su vida y de su labor filosófica” (Mill 9). She distinguishes Mill’s realism from the idealism of male literary icons such as Dante or Don Quixote, aligning herself with his grounded reform (Ordónez 148). This is reflected in her portrayal of Feíta and Pareja. Bazán rejects the notion of the ethereal, doomed woman embodied by Beatrice or Francesca and counterpoints them with Feíta: direct, pragmatic and intellectually engaged. This can be seen in Pareja’s description of Feíta's sister Rosa, initially as a “belleza soberana,” but later calls her a “muñeca," due to her vacant expression (Pardo Bazán 134). Whereas he decribes Feíta as having the look of a “rapaz despabilado” with “ojos del entendimiento” (Pardo Bazán 151). Here, Bazán offers a model of femininity grounded in intellect and self-possession, clearly influenced by Mill’s.

Mill’s influence also appears in Bazán's admiration for his defiance of conventions in her prologue to La Esclavitud Femenina (Mill 7). Mill and Taylor’s marriage, based on mutual respect, impressed Bazán- especially given her own unhappy one. She celebrated their union as “cuán dulce pedazo de paraíso el matrimonio de dos personas istruidas" (Mill 12). This ideal shapes Pareja and Feíta's eventual marriage. In his second proposal, he offers “la libertad... y con el amor de propina”(Pardo Bazán 261). Their relationship is defined by shared goals- like rebuilding the Neira family- exemplifying Mill’s belief that women should be educated and independent before marriage, and that marriage should stem from love, not obligation.

Moreover, Bazán's translation adapts Mill’s work for a Catholic Spanish readership by softening his critique of religion, demonstrating how she honoured his ideas while tailoring them to her context. She uses the same strategy in Memorias, revising marriage norms and gender roles to present Feíta as the representation of modern womanhood.

Bazán weaves literary references into Memorias, notably alluding to A doll’s house by Henrik Ibsen (Ibsen) a play which sparked significant controversy for ending with a wife leaving her husband and children, defying social norms. In Memorias, Neira warns Feíta against “esa emancipación... imitando a las desatentadas y monstruosas heroínas de Ibsen.” (Pardo Bazán 244). Feíta responds that she has no husband or children and has done nothing wrong. This exchange is significant on several levels. It portrays Feíta and Bazán as well-read, familiar with radical literature at the time that challenged the very norms her society upheld. Furthermore, Feíta's defiant response to her father mirrors Bazán’s own response to sexist criticism that dismissed her as faddish or overly modern. By embedding this allusion in Feíta's dialogue, through Pareja’s narration, Bazán subtly but powerfully reinforces female emancipation reasonable and inevitable.

To conclude, Memorias demonstrates that, within the constraints of nineteenth century Spain, Bazán could only suggest a rewrite of norms through the voice of Pareja, avoiding the likely rejection had she used a female voice. Bazán embeds her feminist message subtly, through details like the deliberate consistent use of the feminine indirect object pronoun “la” instead of the default masculine “le”, while relying on a male narrator to render her progressive ideas more acceptable to a conservative readership.

Bibliography:

Primary source:

Pardo Bazán, Emilia. Memorias de Un Solterón. 1896. Edited by ángeles ayala, 1st ed., Ediciones Cátedra, 2004, pp. 85–303.

Secondary sources:

Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologica. Benziger Brothers Printers to the Holy Apostolic See, 1485.

Bauer, Beth Wietelmann. “Narrative Cross-Dressing: Emilia Pardo Bazán in Memorias de Un Solterón.” Hispania, vol. 77, no. 1, Mar. 1994, p. 23, https://doi.org/10.2307/344419.

Bieder, Maryellen. “Capitulation: Marriage, Not Freedom a Study of Emilia Pardo Bazán’sMemorias de Un Solterónand Galdós’Tristana.” Symposium: A Quarterly Journal in Modern Literatures, vol. 30, no. 2, Routledge, June 1976, pp. 93–109, https://doi.org/10.1080/00397709.1976.10733297. Accessed 11 Sept. 2023.

Bretz, Mary Lee. “Text and Intertext in Emilia Pardo Bazán’s Memorias de Un Solterón.” Symposium: A Quarterly Journal in Modern Literatures, vol. 43, no. 2, June 1989, pp. 83– 93, https://doi.org/10.1080/00397709.1989.10733671. Accessed 29 Nov. 2021.

Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination. Yale University Press, 1979.

Harpring, Mark. “Homoeroticism and Gender Role Confusion in Pardo Bazán’sMemorias de Un

Solterón.” Hispanic Research Journal, vol. 7, no. 3, Sept. 2006, pp. 195–210,

Hemingway, Maurice. Emilia Pardo Bazan. Ardent Media, 1983. Ibsen, Henrik. A Dolls’ House. Smithsonain Institute Press, 1977. Mill, John Stuart. La Esclavitud Femenina. facediciones.es, 1892. ---. The Subjection of Women. Longmans, Green, Reader, and Dyer, 1869. Miller, Nancy K. Subject to Change. Columbia University Press, 1988.

Nichols, Geraldine Cleary, et al. “In the Feminine Mode: Essays on Hispanic Women Writers.” South Atlantic Review, vol. 56, no. 4, Nov. 1991, p. 129, https://doi.org/10.2307/3200541. Accessed 31 Mar. 2022.

Pardo, Emilia, and Graham Whittaker. La Tribuna. Aris & Phillips, 2017.

Rose, Phyllis. Parallel Lives. Vintage, 2010.

Scanlon, Geraldine M. La Polemica Feminista En La España Contemporanea : 1868-1974. Akal, 1986.

Tolstoy, Leo. Anna Karenina. 1877. Pearson Education, 2008. Tosh, John. A Man’s Place : Masculinity and the Middle-Class Home in Victorian England. Yale

University Press, 2007.

Wagner-Martin, Linda, et al. “A Poetics of Women’s Autobiography: Marginality and the Fictions of Self-Representation.” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature, vol. 9, no. 1, 1990, p. 139, https://doi.org/10.2307/464187. Accessed 16 Dec. 2019.

ZolaÉmile. Le Roman Expérimental. Kessinger Publishing, 2009.

https://doi.org/10.1179/174582006x119664.