I was not at all surprised upon reading Christopher Marlowe's play Jew of Malta, to have discovered yet another example of a female character in Renaissance literature, who is treated as if she were a possession. In the following exchange with Lodowick, after Barabas has lost all of his wealth, he begins to use his daughter Abigail as a bargaining piece.
Lodowick: Well, Barabas, canst help me to a diamond?
Barabas: Oh, sir, your father had my diamonds.
Yet I have one left that will serve your turn.
(Aside) I mean my daughter; but ere he shall have her
I'll sacrifice her on a pile of wood.
I ha' the poison of the city for him,
And the white leprosy.
Lodowick: What sparkle does it give without a foil?
Barabas: The diamond that I talk of ne'er was foiled.
[Aside] But when he touches it, it will be foiled.
[Aloud] Lord Lodowick, it sparkles bright and fair.
Barabas refers to Abigail as a diamond whose value might depreciate should Lodowick become involved with her. Her happiness is of no importance to Barabas either, as we soon find out when he causes a fight between Lodowick and Abigail's true love, Mathias. This fight ends the lives of both men, leaving Abigail shocked and alone.
Of course nothing demonstrates the true value that Barabas places on his daughter quite like the course of action he takes when he finds out that she has converted to Christianity. After deciding that his daughter is no longer valuable, he kills her and all of the other nuns at the nunnery with poison. This really isn't shocking considering that in the beginning of the play he states "I have no charge, nor many children / But one sole daughter, whom I hold as dear / As Agamemnon did his Iphigen". This reference to a man who was willing to sacrifice his daughter's life in exchange for a strong wind, kept me on my toes awaiting the sacrifice of poor Abigail.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
The Woman's Part
Posthumus:
Could I find out
The woman's part in me—for there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part; be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that name, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still . . .
Cymbeline Act 2, scene 5, 19-30 - William Shakespeare
In this soliliquy by Posthumus in the second act of the play, it quickly becomes apparent that Posthumus blames "the woman's part" of himself, or his mother's contribution, for all of his faults and weaknesses. The idea that all women were lustful and deceitful was common in Early Modern England because of the fear surrounding the possibility of deceit in regards to conception. The fear was that a man could easily be fooled by his wife and lose face within his community, becoming known as a cuckold and even unknowingly raising another man's child. Many literary works from the period incorporate this idea because it was a common fear. As Posthumus also points out in the this play, an unfaithful act on the part of one woman often casts doubt on them all, leaving the impression that no woman can be trusted.
Could I find out
The woman's part in me—for there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
It is the woman's part; be it lying, note it,
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that name, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still . . .
Cymbeline Act 2, scene 5, 19-30 - William Shakespeare
In this soliliquy by Posthumus in the second act of the play, it quickly becomes apparent that Posthumus blames "the woman's part" of himself, or his mother's contribution, for all of his faults and weaknesses. The idea that all women were lustful and deceitful was common in Early Modern England because of the fear surrounding the possibility of deceit in regards to conception. The fear was that a man could easily be fooled by his wife and lose face within his community, becoming known as a cuckold and even unknowingly raising another man's child. Many literary works from the period incorporate this idea because it was a common fear. As Posthumus also points out in the this play, an unfaithful act on the part of one woman often casts doubt on them all, leaving the impression that no woman can be trusted.
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