Megan’s Blog

The Convent of Pleasure, supposedly an escape from men, is not successful in its attempt to distance itself from men, either physically or mentally. Convent of Pleasure (the escape) is contrasted by Monsieur Take-Pleasure. Here, it is implied that the monsieur is someone who takes, but does not give, pleasure. The character names (Lady Happy, Mimick the Fool, etc.) in the play serve to personify the characters and give the reader a quick (if superficial and inaccurate) impression of the character.

The convent itself does not live up to its name. Lady Happy says that she wishes her convent to be not a “Cloister of restraint, but a place for freedom.” The reality, though, is that the women are in no way free from men. A true escape from men would require not only a physical separation from men, but also a mental separation. The convent has neither. When the women perform their plays, nearly every one involves men. In the plays, the women play the parts of wives who have selfish, demanding, abusive, dishonest, alcoholic husbands.

The first several plays the women perform serve as a means for complaining about how terrible men are. Thus, a strong male influence (even a negative influence) prevails in the convent. Although in theory, these women who are disenchanted with men like the idea of an escape from men, it is obvious that men are still very much on their minds.

In practice, the women in the convent cannot imagine a world without men, which is demonstrated by the presence of male characters in the plays and the repeated mentions of men.

In Book 4, Eve says to Adam “God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more/ Is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise” (637-39). This sentiment, however, does not prevail through the remainder of Paradise Lost. The quote suggests that Eve is happy in her submissive female role and is content to follow the laws of Adam and God. Book 9, though, reveals that Eve remains submissive to neither Adam or God. She challenges Adam and convinces him to let them separate, and she challenges God by eating the forbidden apple. Eve’s actions prove that she is not a quiet, obedient woman, but it is necessary to consider whether Milton wants the reader to think Eve a strong woman or a foolish, impulsive woman. The text suggests that Eve has characteristics of both.

Eve’s devotion to Adam was not instantaneous, which may foreshadow her later desire for independence. Eve does, in fact, first fall in love with herself (her own reflection) before she feels any love for Adam. Although Eve was created for Adam and God, it is interesting that she is not immediately drawn to Adam. The fact that Eve is initially attracted to herself and rather than Adam speaks to her free will. God may have made Eve for Adam, but he is not able to guarantee that she will immediately fall in love with him. Even so, Eve’s regard for her own reflection suggests vanity–not such a positive quality.

Eve’s argument for a division of labor in the garden is strong enough to persuade Adam to part from her. He argues that if they are separate, they will be less able to fight temptation and that Satan will approach weaker of the two. Adam obviously thinks Eve weaker than he, but Eve is not at all concerned for her safety should she be apart from Adam. In Book 9, Adam actually seems similar to a love-struck, sentimental woman. He finally agrees to part from his beloved Eve, “For solitude sometimes is best society,/ And short retirement urges sweet return” (249-50). Eve, on the other hand, wants freedom from Adam.

Eve’s desire for independence, knowledge, and equality (traits of a strong-minded woman) is contrasted by her ultimate actions. She is so easily persuaded by Satan to eat the apple from the forbidden tree. It seems incredibly naive that Eve would automatically take this strange serpent’s word. She does not question Satan; instead, she uses immature logic to conclude that because this serpent ate an apple and can speak intelligently, she too will become knowledgeable if she disobeys God. Thus the reader is presented with Eve as an impulsive, easy-to-fool woman. Eve is able to question and challenge Adam (as she challenges his belief that she is meant to do only domestic work), she questions God (by eating the apple), yet she does not challenge the serpent who tempts her into disobedience and the fall of the garden.

Most readers would probably consider love one of the most prevalent and important themes in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. It is important, though, to examine instances of “love” and determine whether each relationship is an example of acutal love, desire, or something else entirely.

Orsino’s supposed love for Olivia seems more about the pursuit of love than love itself. As a duke, Orsino is expected to marry within the noble class; thus, he sees a good opportunity in the countess Olivia. Olivia’s vow that no man may see her for seven years makes her even more tempting to Orsino, who continues to send messangers to woo Olivia on his behalf. Orsino goes so far as to tell Viola (as Cesario) to “Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, /Rather than make unprofited return” (1.4: lines 21-22). The fact that Orsino is willing to be pushy and rude in order to win Olivia negates the notion that “Love is patient, love is kind.” Olivia is a game to Orsino, and he will do anything his power and money allow to win Olivia.

Olivia’s love for Cesario is far more genuine and close to real love. The attachment Olivia feels to Cesario has an emotional component; she is drawn to Cesario’s eloquence, physical beauty, and overall persona. Although Cesario is a messanger, Olivia falls in love. Thus, Olivia’s love transcends social class. Olivia is not bound by the “rules” of love typical to the time. She instead defies these unwritten rules of proper love by falling in love with someone who is very feminine and of a significantly lower class than she.

While there are other instances of love relationships in Twelfth Night–Sebastian/Antonio, for example–Orsino’s pursuit of Olivia contrasts nicely with Olivia’s unexpected love for Cesario.

While it is true that the Wife of Bath’s prologue and tale highlight female stereotypes–many of which apply to the Wife herself–I was also struck by the Wife’s ability to present a strong argument. The Wife does acknowledge that her five marriages may not exactly conform to Christian ideals, but she points out powerful and holy men who were married more than once. She makes a reference to King Salomon as well as other men: “I woot wel Abraham was an hooly man,/And Jacob eek, as ferforth as I kan;/And ech of hem hadde wyves mo than two” (lines 55-57). I believe it is a smart move on the Wife’s part to justify her multiple marriages by presenting evidence of men who have done the same. After all, she is addressing an audience comprised almost entirely of men.

It is refreshing to be presented with a strong female character in a time when chaste, meek women were the norm. But the Wife of Bath actually must boast stereotypically masculine characteristics in order to stand out among the group. I did not see her as a strong woman so much as a masculine woman. The Wife of Bath does not wait for a man to court her (so it goes without saying that she would scoff at the notion of courtly love); instead, she actively seeks out husbands who meet her needs. She is also very sexually explicit and makes it clear that her husbands are her debtors and slaves: “Upon his flessh, whil that I am his wyf./I have power durynge al my lyf/Upon his propre body, and nought he” (lines 157-159).

The Wife of Bath’s attitude toward sex and control is typical of a male; her stereotypically masculine characteristics attempt to make her an equal to the men in her presence.

We are presented in Beowulf with two very different notions of a woman. On the one hand, we have women like Wealtheow who act as compliant wives and peace-weavers. On the other, (standing alone in this text) is Grendel’s dam–a monstrous, weapon-wielding female. Grendel’s dam, like her son, is an outsider. Yet, her attempt to avenge her son’s death prevents us from labeling her in an entirely negative manner. The introduction to Beowulf cites the “moral obligation” of man to avenge his kinsman’s death by either slaying the killer himself or obtaining the appropriate man-price. The introduction goes on to say that “the failure to take revenge or exact compensation was considered shameful” (31). Can Grendel’s mother’s attempt to exact this revenge, then, actually be considered a moral move? Despite her outsider status, we must consider that Grendel’s mother does not join her son’s killing spree. It is not until Grendel’s death that his mother emerges from the depths, “grief-racked and ravenous, desperate for revenge” (62). Perhaps the societal norm of exacting revenge is meant only to be applied to good men who are wrongly slain. Even so, the grief Grendel’s mother feels at her son’s death is very real. Yes, Grendel’s mother is a monster, but she is a monster who follows the same moral code of exacting revenge as do noble men and warriors.