J. Braiman

ENGL 251

Final Exam for 6/27/2000

ESSAY 2

The role of women, and the image of the female, vary greatly among medieval and Renaissance English literature. The portrayal of women depends on many factors, not the least of which is the work’s adherence, or lack thereof, to Christian tradition and the societal mores that are derived therefrom. Medieval literature tends to objectify women, whether in terms of their superficial appearance or other outward characteristics, as in secular literature, or in terms of their traditional Biblical/religious role as Eve, mother and life-giver but also the personification of the serpent from the book of Genesis, condemning mankind by defying God and eating from the tree of knowledge. Women in Renaissance literature become more complex, taking on more significant roles in drama and epic poetry, yet both eras maintain the distinction between the secular and the religious.

Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales provide one example of the secular approach to women in medieval literature. In his “General Prologue,” Chaucer presents us with character sketches of a group of pilgrims headed on a journey to Canterbury, two of which (those that are described in detail, anyway) are women. The Nun [Nonne or Prioresse, in Middle English], though she belongs to a religious order and thus would be expected to be described (and behave) in a highly spiritual and religious way, is shown rather to be somewhat superficial. Chaucer describes her physical appearance, hardly of great concern to a nun, as fair and petite, but she is also very dainty, elegant and careful about her manner, specifically when it comes to eating, also traits not generally associated with nuns. Conversely, there are some subtle religious references in Chaucer’s description of the Wife of Bath, the other significant female pilgrim, including a mention of church offerings and a trip to Jerusalem, but the emphasis here is on her prowess as a seamstress, a domestic skill not generally attributed to religious tradition. She is also described as being able to ride a horse easily and a learned conversationalist. Neither of these women conforms to either the traditional or religious perception of women in medieval times.

Nor does the character of Alisoun in The Miller’s Tale, a somewhat vulgar rebuttal to the Knight’s Tale of chivalric romance. Alisoun is also described in great detail with regard to her outward physical attributes only; lines 113-162 are devoted entirely to her body, her face, her voice, and especially her clothing. She is subject to the affections not only of her husband, John, but also of their boarder, the very direct and single-minded Nicholas, and a parish clerk, the effeminate, bright-eyed, somewhat foppish young Absolon. The confusion, treachery and ultimate punishment that ensues affects all three of the men profoundly, but Alisoun, who is an adulteress and thus a sinner by Christian tradition, faces no consequences for her actions. The story defies religious tradition by NOT punishing the adulteress, because she simply acted according to her nature and instinct, which is all, the story contends, anyone can be expected to do; her actions were not conscious or calculating in the sense that she had no ends to her means. The men, on the other hand, DID behave in a conscious and calculating fashion, defying their own nature and thus were made to bear the pain, humiliation, or both that resulted from each abortive or ill-starred love affair.

Although there are no female characters portrayed or discussed, another secular view of women can be seen in Sir Thomas Wyatt’s sonnet, “Whoso list to hunt;” or, loosely derived, “Who wants to hunt?” an elaborate metaphor for wooing a woman. The idea of courtship as a hunt (such as for an animal) is derived from an earlier poem by the Roman Petrarch; Wyatt’s version is supposed to refer to Anne Boleyn, one of the wives of Henry VIII. The woman is compared here to “an hind,” i.e., a doe, who repeatedly escapes but whom the speaker nonetheless continues to pursue. The effort seems futile, “Since in a net I seek to hold the wind” (8). Not only is it futile for the speaker, but he goes on to suggest that it would be futile for anyone. The poem does not idealize women, as a religious poem might; rather, it reflects bitterness, despair and even anger at the relentless, yet relentlessly fruitless, pursuit of secular love.

In William Shakespeare’s Tragedy of King Lear, the titular monarch decides to leave his kingdom to his three daughters, only one of whom, Cordelia, is worthy but ironically finds herself out of her father’s favor. The other two daughters, Goneril and Regan, and their respective husbands, the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall, plot against the old, senile king after he abdicates. All of the women in King Lear are strong, independent-minded, willful individuals, much like Lady Macbeth in another great Shakespearean tragedy (and the Wife of Bath in the Canterbury Tales); the female characters here take on characteristics that are normally considered masculine, simultaneously attempting to emasculate their father while he fears the loss of his own manhood. The unmarried Cordelia, for her part, is betrothed to the king of France, and later joins a French invasion force to help her father regain his kingdom. Cordelia, in contrast to her conniving sisters, is pure and chaste, and virginity in Elizabethan literature is considered a way of becoming male; Elizabeth herself, the virgin queen, is a prime example.

There is no mention whatsoever of God, Christ, or any other religious icon or idea, in King Lear. Like the play itself, and the bulk of Shakespeare’s work, the view of women is clearly secular, although this play and the aforementioned Macbeth are unique among Shakespearean plays in their portrayal of strong, willful, central female characters.

A more religious view of women can be found in Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, a Renaissance epic poem masquerading as a medieval poem. Cantos 1 and 2 of Book 1 present women (females) in traditional biblical roles, and are not terribly flattering to women in general. Canto 1 shows us a monster named Errour, an adversary of the Redcrosse Knight, the tale’s central protagonist. Errour is described and presented in the most awful, horrifying manner possible; a serpent’s head and neck atop a female human body, the very embodiment of Eve and the Serpent (combined) from the book of Genesis, who spews foul vomit (which, among other things, contains fragments of paper, alluding to Catholic propaganda) and nurses hideous offspring who drink her blood when she is killed and draw power from it. The portrayal of Errour, Redcrosse’s first encounter with sin (paralleling Eve’s encounter with the Serpent) is reflective of medieval tradition derived from early Christian, the female as the embodiment of evil. The word evil is, in fact, derived from Eve.

Una, the Redcrosse Knight’s companion, whose name means “one,” represents the true church; the epitome of religion and the religious view of women, the model of good womanhood: chaste, dedicated, truthful, dressed simply (as opposed to Chaucer’s Wife of Bath or Alisoun, whose lavish or outlandish clothes seem extremely important to their characters). When Una and the Knight are separated after the Sprites give him an erotic dream, it symbolizes the separation of the church, the physical, earthly house of worship, from religion, i.e., spirituality and faith. As a counterpoint to Una, we are told of Duessa, whose name (a feminized, personified derivation of the number two) indicates her duplicitous and thus deceitful nature. In Canto 2, we are told of how she disguised herself as a fair lady to the Elfin knight, only to turn herself into an evil witch and turn the knight into a tree; again, as in Genesis, the convergence of a woman and a tree spell dire consequences for man.

The poet John Donne wrote both secular and religious poems. “Song,” a secular poem, like Wyatt’s “Whoso list,” deals with the utter futility of a man pursuing a woman, presenting the reader with numerous paradoxes to illustrate. “The Apparition” reflects the same cynicism and bravado of Wyatt’s hunt, as well as the frustration of Absolon from The Miller’s Tale, although there is an interesting reversal at the end of the poem; the speaker essentially expresses a level of forgiveness to the woman who cuckolded him. “The Good Morrow,” on the other hand, a more religious poem (with reference to the Christian “Seven Sleepers”), contains no such negative feeling. Much like Una in Spenser’s Faerie Queene, and in opposition to Donne’s secular poems, this poem presents the reader with a highly idealized view of women.

In both medieval and Renaissance literature, the religious tradition seems to idealize women, either positively or negatively. The woman in religious literature is either the fair, chaste, honest epitome of womanhood, or the deceitful, promiscuous, evil bane of mankind; seldom in between. Secular literature shows us a different and far more diverse view of women, providing the gray areas to the black and white of religious tradition.

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