Upon completing Book One, I’m still left wondering about Spenser’s true comparison between Redcrosse and Arthur. Are they that dissimilar? Are they actually very similar? What are the two characters ultimately meant to represent? The positive ending, with the unmasking of Archimago and the corroboration of Redcrosse’s story from Una do not necessarily answer these questions. Returning to Arthur’s dream in Canto 9, what is there to make of this? On the one hand, the inclusion of Arthur’s dream and his own troubles in the area of love could be legitimizing Redcrosse’s dream from the beginning of the story. Just as Redcrosse, who we know does not begin the story as a character of holiness, must toil and feel much pain before he can even come close to a real shot at love, Arthur must also endure these trials. And much like Duessa is not an earthly character and fools Redcrosse with her dream, the Faerie Queen is not an earthly character and displays a similar deceipt, or at least elusiveness, with Arthur.
Because both men must suffer so much before their love can be recognized by the correct recipient, what does this mean about holiness? Is pain a necessary obstacle on the road to love/holiness? Is there a major difference in the hardships that Redcrosse had to face versus those that Arthur had to? Ultimately, I think we are supposed to equate their paths to love. Even though Arthur is the ideal representation of holiness, love is far from straightforward, and thus cannot be handed over freely. Is the pain Redcrosse faced on his way to love in some way representative of a strong character, which is why he’s able to win over Una and her parents at the conclusion of the story? It certainly seems like pain is an important emotion throughout the Book.
Very good questions, which I hope we’ll address today. I do think Arthur isn’t quite the ideal representation of holiness; he seems to me to belong to a different order of allegory, crossing with RC in some respects, but on a different trajectory—a more Platonic rather than overtly Christian one. Good.
Coming out of our most recent readings, I was very interested in the allegorical implications of Una’s actions. As a figure, she is representative of wholesome and pure truth; however, she is given surprisingly little agency for someone who embodies such an integral virtue. Time and time again, she cannot find what she is looking for (Redcrosse); most of the other figures, like Duessa, Archimago, Sansloy, and Sansjoy have little to no trouble in tracking down their targets, even on consecutive occasions. When confronted with evil or danger, she has no real capability of protecting herself. Finally, as we saw in this last passage, she is often hugely susceptible to emotion–seen both when she hears the news of Redcrosse (on 2 occasions) and when she is prompted by Arthur to tell her own story.
However, I find it unlikely that Spenser has a particular anti-feminist agenda contrived to “put her in her place.” Rather, her vulnerable disposition should be applied allegorically, as most of the play is meant. While truth is pure and beautiful in and of itself, if you remove its supporting virtues, it is hard to find any real use for it. Rather, it requires protectors and caretakers. It needs valiant knights, wearing the “armor of Goe,” to defend it from evil and malice; it needs a calm, compassionate voice to talk it down when emotions get the better of it; it needs an honorable man (or woman) to guard its chastity. Truth is a delicate, yet pure and unimaginably beautiful thing–and it needs the guidance and protection of virtue to place it on the right path.
I found the character of Arthur particular interesting in the section we read. One of the first things I noticed was that Spenser uses his typical technique of introducing the character’s name after the description of the character. But with Arthur, Spenser uses it to an extreme extent. Aside from the summary in the canto headings, Spenser does not mention Arthur’s name in the text until many pages – and a full canto – after his initial introduction. Only after he has freed Red Cross do we finally learn his name, although, by Una’s reaction, the characters seem to have known it all along. Such a distance between the character’s introduction and his naming draws attention to the character as an important figure. In Arthur’s case, naming him so late draws attention to his actions rather than, as it would for most characters, his physical appearance. This suggests that Arthur is an important character for the reader to keep an eye on.
Spenser also underscores Arthur’s importance by presenting him in different allegorical ways. In stanza 39 of Canto Eight, Spenser presents him as a Christ figure (see the note on 131). Any Christ figure in a narrative about holiness certainly will draw attention, particularly because of his association throughout the cantos with a high ideal of knighthood, which has connections to the path of holiness. Yet Spenser presents Arthur differently when he tells the story of love. He becomes a character chasing after a love, which draws an explicit comparison to Red Cross’ quest. I’m not sure exactly how these two depictions mesh in the text, since a Christ figure and a person seeking out a former lover seem to conflict. Perhaps it is within reason in the realm of allegory to use characters in different ways.
Spenser’s King Arthur is very similar to Jesus Christ in many ways. For one, he is resurrected from death. When he “dyde, the Faerie Queen it brought / To Faerie lond.” When the dwarf tells her that her knight, Redcrosse has been taken prisoner by the giant, Orgoglio, she faints multiple times. When all seems lost for Una, Arthur appears. Spenser describes Arthur in an almost divine manner. He is laden with gold and diamond and pearls. Light emanates from his shield, blinding any mortal. It is almost as if King Arthur has descended from heaven to be the protector for Una – Truth – and the savior for Redcrosse – a flawed, yet aspiring devotee of Christ.
Arthur and Una travel to the giant’s lair in order to free Redcrosse. Once again, Duessa displays her duplicity. Although she was Redcrosse’s companion shortly before, she fights against Arthur and his squire. In this scene, Duessa serves as an allusion to the Whore of Babylon in the Book of Revelations. Both are clad in purple and gold, and both ride a seven headed beast. Eventually Arthur is able to defeat the giant and the beast – Christ is the savior. With the help of Arthur – Christ – and Una – Truth, Duessa’s true identity is revealed to Redcrosse. He is both saved and enlightened by Arthur and Una.
The comparison between King Arthur and Redcrosse, as the two protagonist nights in this work, strikes me. We know that Redcrosse is again and again distracted from his goal and succumbs to error, and only when King Arthur comes along is Redcrosse able to escape captivity. If we recall Canto 1 and the knight’s initial description, we remember that Redcrosse looked the part of the knight but there were signals that he wasn’t yet prepared to carry out his duty. Redcrosse is aware of his own importance to tale. On the contrary, King Arthur (who is not yet a king), doesn’t know much about his lineage. His tutor tells him that he is destined to be king, but beyond that Arthur knows nothing about his background. In a sense, this speaks to the idea that knowledge can actually lead to bad decisions and immoral behavior, which seems counter intuitive, but to put it simply, ignorance is bliss. Like a child, Arthur is driven by an innate sense of right and wrong. For Redcrosse, things go bad when he thinks too much about what is right and what is wrong.
Like Lana, I was also fascinated by the “Duessa stripped” scene in Canto 8, and how it was her clothes that made her appear beautiful. In a way, it reminded me of the House of Pride, “painted cunningly”. Duessa was also painted and adorned in a cunning manner so as to appear beautiful, as “Fidessa”. However, just like the House of Pride, her disguise can be easily removed by the force of good, because she has no real foundation and is also somewhat of a ruinous structure, as we see by her revolting description.
Throughout the Faerie Queen, Duessa’s clothes are often described. For example, when she leaves with the Giant, he gives her the “gold and purple pall”, as well as a “triple crowne”, rewarding her deception with more means of doing it. Clearly, her clothing is an important part of her identity, whereas someone pure of heart would not rely so much on material possessions. On the other hand, with Una, we are given very little description of her clothing, though we know it’s white. Duessa’s clothes, multicolored and also multi-layered, imply her duplicity. Once the layers of deception are taken off, her true self is revealed.
The events of Canto Seven further illustrate the weakness of Redcrosse’s character. The “false Duessa” (p. 102) once again exerts her power over the knight when she finds him “foreby a fountaine syde” (102) and they “bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous shade” (103) together. This encounter shows Redcrosse’s relentless susceptibility to falseness, a quality that has thus far proved to be his most central flaw throughout Book One of “The Faerie Queene”. Spenser exhibits the opposite natures of Una and Duessa by portraying them in close proximity of each other during Canto Seven. Just as her reminder of faith saves him when he is losing his battle with Errours, Una is again shown as the source of Redcrosse’s salvation when she brings Arthur to slay Orgoglio, thus freeing the faltering knight from captivity. This instance further proves the overriding power of Una and her pure virtues. In this same way, the theme of solidarity is advanced when Duessa, the personification of doubleness, is banished to the woods by Una, Arthur and Redcrosse. Spenser’s personal values can be seen through the continuous battles between morality and evil. Despite Duessa’s temptations, Una always resurfaces to save the day, proving the presiding strength of integrity.
In class we have spoken a great deal about religion and how that plays into the story of the Faerie Queene. What I find most fascinating in regards to the topic of religion in this book, however, is the commentary and references to Spenser’s view on the Catholic church. We know that Spenser was a Protestant (based on background information), and with that information in mind, all the references to Catholicism starts to become clear attacks on the church. For instance, the scene outside of the castle in cantos 8. This the point in the story where Duessa comes out of the castle on her “many headed beast” (stanza 6 line 2), which is a direct parallel to the scene in the Book of Revelation in which the woman appears atop of her multi-headed beast. This character is most commonly known for being the whore of babylon which the Protestant church uses to reference and shame the Catholic church. This resemblance between the two stories is not only prevalent in the similarities between the creature’s both women are riding, but the colors associated with each story as well. In both the Book of Revelation and The Faerie Queene, the two woman are associated with the color purple – one is riding a purple beast and one is clothed in the color (“Enforst her purple beast with all her might” – stanza 13 line 3). Even further, the mention of the “golden cup” is another similarity between the two stories confirming the relationship between the Protestant church and it’s downward gaze upon the Catholic church (“Then took the angrie witch her golden cup” – stanza 14 line 1). At this point I am wondering where this commentary on the Catholic church will go? Will it become a major focus and point of the book…to make a statement on religion and the differences between the two major Christian church’s. In addition, will the contention between the Catholic and Protestant church play a role in the other religious issues and themes throughout the book?
I’ve been fascinated by the recurring imagery of monstrous women (and especially mothers) throughout the entirety of The Faerie Queene. From the very first Canto, with the monster Error, all the way through to Duessa, with her monstrously ugly form, every woman Spencer writes about is a bad influence and is physically disgusting. The first woman in canto 7 is the nymph of the lazy waters. Spencer tells us that Diana “badd the waters, which from her did flow,/Be such as she her selfe was then in place” (canto 7, stanza 5, page 103). It cannot be a coincidence that the mounstrous part of this woman–her sloth–is represented in the “waters, which from her did flow.” Like water, menstrual blood flows from the body of a woman every month, and is a reminder of her fertility. It is not just sloth that is this nymph’s vice–it seems that her very womanhood turns her into a negative figure in the story. Spencer then spends quite a lot of space explaining the monster Orgoglio’s parenthood. He writes, “the greatest Earch his uncouth mother was,/And blustring Aeolus his boasted sire,/Who with his breath, which through the world doth pass,/Her hollow womb did secretly inspyre,/And fild her hidden caves with stormie yre,/That she conceiv’d,; and trebling the dew time,/In which hte wombes of wemen doe expyre,/brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slime…” (page 105, canto 7, stanza 9). It is woman who here is responsible for the production of this monster. Yes, Aeolus has a part in the whole production, but it Earth’s fertile emptiness, her “hidden caves” and “hollow womb” that allow the monster to spring forth. Once again, it is the fertility of womanhood that symbolizes the monstrous.
In comparison, Una, the only good woman in the story, is constantly referred to as “virgin.” To be a virgin is to be pure, to be whole, to be implicitly infertile. Una is less woman than purity itself. It seems like for Spencer, womanhood is symbolized by fertility, and fertility is threatening. It is only when the woman’s power of maternity is taken away, when she reduced to a pure and whole and unfertile thing, that Spencer allows her to exist as a force for good.
The incident at the end of Canto Eight, in which Arthur and Una disrobe Duessa to show Redcrosse her horrible true form, is reminiscent of earlier instances of the stories where “foul” creatures are described in female terms: the beast Error in the cave in the first canto, the figure of Night during the “descent into Hell” episode in the House of Pride. The grotesque description of Duessa’s scabbed, bald, and wizened body reinforces the idea that inner immorality is reflected with outer ugliness—Duessa, depraved and deceptive, is one of the most revolting creatures we have met so far. Particular attention is paid to her lack of hair, “dried dugs” and “neather parts” (133) so awful that the narrator dare not describe them: sexual organs and features closely associated with sexuality. It would follow that Duessa’s wickedness and sexual looseness (as described in the opening of Canto Seven) especially plagues the parts most important to her deceptive seduction of men.
I am interested in, and confused by, the manner in which Duessa is stripped. The description seems to indicate that they are taking off Duessa’s “roiall robes” headdress, and jewelry, but there is no mention of removing a “skin” or a “mask” or some other cosmetic device that would make her appear beautiful. It is as though Redcrosse was not taken by any natural or inherent beauty but by her extravagant trappings and dressings. In the allegory, I feel this fits: beauty of the body and face is given by God, but rich clothes, jewelry and other “disguises” are manmade fabrications. Overindulgence in the world of man indicates excessive vanity and pride. So it would make sense that Duessa had never actually transformed into a beautiful woman, but had simply dolled herself up so much that her ugliness was no longer a focal point.
Lucifera’s carriage is pulled by beasts who are affiliated with six of the daily sins. The first deadly sin introduced is Idlenesse (Sloth). Idlenesse is compared to a “holy Monck” (59). The comparison of the a monk to a deadly sin enforces anti-Catholic satire. Gluttony is introduced next and is classically described as a being that over indulges in worldly distractions. I find it ironic that deadly sins that would be the least qualified to pull a carriage are described first. Lechery (lust) once again is classically described. The color green is used to describe both Gluttony and Lechery. Does the color green have an evil associations?
Avarice (Greed) is physically described as having gout. The sore is so painful that he is unable to stand. Gout has been associated as the disease of kings. Historically gout was observed to be found in older men who wore themselves out during their youth. Spenser is making the point that Greed consumes one’s life. Envy is described as having a “venomous tode” between his “crankred teeth” (62). This physical description perfectly captures the ugly nature jealousy promotes. Envy’s “kirtle of discoloured say” can imply the sin is mostly affiliated with woman (62).
Wrath (Rage) is the last deadly sin described. Spenser purposely describes Wrath as the last deadly sin of the six to suggest that at times Redcrosse at times has been associated with the sin, such as the time he fought for Duessa. Envy is also represented when Redcrosse assumes Una gave her virginity to another man.
The final deadly sin that is missing is pride. Redcrosse is represented at times as the 7th deadly sin of pride. Depending on his actions he ultimately may join the beasts who pull Lucifera’s carriage.
In Canto 6, the “wyld woodgods” come to save Una from Sansloy, which I first interpreted as nature’s rescue, much like the character of the lion in Canto 3. However, there are some distinct differences between these wood creatures and the lion that point to Spenser’s commentary on the workings of nature. The wood gods save Una from the rapist, but then they begin to “worship her as Goddesse of the wood,” suggesting Pagan idolatry, and thus impurity. In contrast, the lion seems to represent a more uncorrupted natural form: “The lyon would not leave her desolate / But with her went along, as a strong gard / Of her chaste person, and a faythfull mate.” The relationship between Una and the lion shows his faithfulness to her, that he is under her commandment and at her aid. As such, I found a split in Spenser’s portrayal of nature from these two examples. Maybe he is suggesting that not all nature is pure? The wood gods submit to Una and bow down to her, but they seem to uphold her as an idol, rather than as a representation of truth, like the lion does. However, Satyrane still possesses goodness and tries to help Una. What, then, is Spenser’s point in using the wood creatures? Are they good, evil, or a mixture of both?
A large component of Spenser’s allegorical strategy in The Faerie Queene is his use of animal figures in association with the human characters of the story. In Canto Four, we see the six sage councilors of Queen Lucifera paired with animals in order to increase the overtness of the six sinful tendencies that they represent. This description of the six figures appears from stanzas 18-35 and reminds me of the long aside that the Knight takes in his tale when he describes the three temples dedicated to Venus, Mars, and Athena.
In particular, the sixth portrait of Wrath is striking because the Lion, significant enough in the previous canto to be considered a real character, reappears in a completely contrary representation. Una’s lion appears after a stanza that idealizes this maiden’s radiance and purity: “Her angels face / As the great eye of heaven shyned bright, / And made a sunshine in the shady place” (39). The furious lion forgets his rage at the sight of Una and the presence of her purity, and “he her wronged innocence did weep” (40). This relationship feels human, and is certainly symbiotic for both sides.
To counteract this portrayal of the lion, Spenser pairs the same beast with the sinful figure of Wrath in Canto Four. Wrath rides upon the lion, “Trembling through hasty rage” and “staind with blood” (p. 63). His portrayal is inherently not majestic, which mocks the metaphorical representation of the noble lion. This lion that Wrath rides is akin to Scar, whereas Una’s lion is Mufasa or Aslan. It is also interesting that Wrath and his lion are last in the order of Spenser’s six descriptions. Reader-response theory helps us to understand that we would expect a prideful lion to come first, but by placing it last, Spenser degrades it further. Most of the other sinful figures have obvious animal associations—Gluttony with a swine, for example—but the juxtaposition of Wrath and a lion is intended more as a contradiction and mockery of Una than a criticism of the lion. These contrasting depictions of a single symbol force the reader to realize that we cannot read everything only through our first impressions and that many allegorical symbols in The Faerie Queene allow for multiple layers of meaning.
We’ve talked a lot in class lately about the treatment of religion throughout the book, and this treatment of religion often comes in the form of the characterization of certain characters. But what we haven’t talked about is the role of gender within this book, which was a huge part of our reading of The Canterbury Tales. It could simply be that Spenser is making a comment on religion and not on gender, but I’m not yet sure. What does it mean that Redcrosse, the Knight of Holiness, is so easily tricked by a false woman in the first place? Is Spenser putting more power into the hands of the female figure, by allowing her to control Redcrosse? Or is Spenser putting down the female figure in a way, by making the true woman so unimportant and literally unnoticed by the knight? It’s also interesting to note that all of the ‘roots’ of the falseness in this story lie with women. The figure of Night is female, and, again, is seen as the root of Duessa’s race, associating her with dishonesty and general negativity. We haven’t yet seen too many examples of how male and female characters interact, but I’m very interested to see how the role of the female character may change throughout each Book.
April 1, 2015 at 11:33 am
Upon completing Book One, I’m still left wondering about Spenser’s true comparison between Redcrosse and Arthur. Are they that dissimilar? Are they actually very similar? What are the two characters ultimately meant to represent? The positive ending, with the unmasking of Archimago and the corroboration of Redcrosse’s story from Una do not necessarily answer these questions. Returning to Arthur’s dream in Canto 9, what is there to make of this? On the one hand, the inclusion of Arthur’s dream and his own troubles in the area of love could be legitimizing Redcrosse’s dream from the beginning of the story. Just as Redcrosse, who we know does not begin the story as a character of holiness, must toil and feel much pain before he can even come close to a real shot at love, Arthur must also endure these trials. And much like Duessa is not an earthly character and fools Redcrosse with her dream, the Faerie Queen is not an earthly character and displays a similar deceipt, or at least elusiveness, with Arthur.
Because both men must suffer so much before their love can be recognized by the correct recipient, what does this mean about holiness? Is pain a necessary obstacle on the road to love/holiness? Is there a major difference in the hardships that Redcrosse had to face versus those that Arthur had to? Ultimately, I think we are supposed to equate their paths to love. Even though Arthur is the ideal representation of holiness, love is far from straightforward, and thus cannot be handed over freely. Is the pain Redcrosse faced on his way to love in some way representative of a strong character, which is why he’s able to win over Una and her parents at the conclusion of the story? It certainly seems like pain is an important emotion throughout the Book.
April 2, 2015 at 8:46 am
Very good questions, which I hope we’ll address today. I do think Arthur isn’t quite the ideal representation of holiness; he seems to me to belong to a different order of allegory, crossing with RC in some respects, but on a different trajectory—a more Platonic rather than overtly Christian one. Good.
March 19, 2015 at 9:22 am
Coming out of our most recent readings, I was very interested in the allegorical implications of Una’s actions. As a figure, she is representative of wholesome and pure truth; however, she is given surprisingly little agency for someone who embodies such an integral virtue. Time and time again, she cannot find what she is looking for (Redcrosse); most of the other figures, like Duessa, Archimago, Sansloy, and Sansjoy have little to no trouble in tracking down their targets, even on consecutive occasions. When confronted with evil or danger, she has no real capability of protecting herself. Finally, as we saw in this last passage, she is often hugely susceptible to emotion–seen both when she hears the news of Redcrosse (on 2 occasions) and when she is prompted by Arthur to tell her own story.
However, I find it unlikely that Spenser has a particular anti-feminist agenda contrived to “put her in her place.” Rather, her vulnerable disposition should be applied allegorically, as most of the play is meant. While truth is pure and beautiful in and of itself, if you remove its supporting virtues, it is hard to find any real use for it. Rather, it requires protectors and caretakers. It needs valiant knights, wearing the “armor of Goe,” to defend it from evil and malice; it needs a calm, compassionate voice to talk it down when emotions get the better of it; it needs an honorable man (or woman) to guard its chastity. Truth is a delicate, yet pure and unimaginably beautiful thing–and it needs the guidance and protection of virtue to place it on the right path.
March 18, 2015 at 11:28 pm
I found the character of Arthur particular interesting in the section we read. One of the first things I noticed was that Spenser uses his typical technique of introducing the character’s name after the description of the character. But with Arthur, Spenser uses it to an extreme extent. Aside from the summary in the canto headings, Spenser does not mention Arthur’s name in the text until many pages – and a full canto – after his initial introduction. Only after he has freed Red Cross do we finally learn his name, although, by Una’s reaction, the characters seem to have known it all along. Such a distance between the character’s introduction and his naming draws attention to the character as an important figure. In Arthur’s case, naming him so late draws attention to his actions rather than, as it would for most characters, his physical appearance. This suggests that Arthur is an important character for the reader to keep an eye on.
Spenser also underscores Arthur’s importance by presenting him in different allegorical ways. In stanza 39 of Canto Eight, Spenser presents him as a Christ figure (see the note on 131). Any Christ figure in a narrative about holiness certainly will draw attention, particularly because of his association throughout the cantos with a high ideal of knighthood, which has connections to the path of holiness. Yet Spenser presents Arthur differently when he tells the story of love. He becomes a character chasing after a love, which draws an explicit comparison to Red Cross’ quest. I’m not sure exactly how these two depictions mesh in the text, since a Christ figure and a person seeking out a former lover seem to conflict. Perhaps it is within reason in the realm of allegory to use characters in different ways.
March 18, 2015 at 11:26 pm
Spenser’s King Arthur is very similar to Jesus Christ in many ways. For one, he is resurrected from death. When he “dyde, the Faerie Queen it brought / To Faerie lond.” When the dwarf tells her that her knight, Redcrosse has been taken prisoner by the giant, Orgoglio, she faints multiple times. When all seems lost for Una, Arthur appears. Spenser describes Arthur in an almost divine manner. He is laden with gold and diamond and pearls. Light emanates from his shield, blinding any mortal. It is almost as if King Arthur has descended from heaven to be the protector for Una – Truth – and the savior for Redcrosse – a flawed, yet aspiring devotee of Christ.
Arthur and Una travel to the giant’s lair in order to free Redcrosse. Once again, Duessa displays her duplicity. Although she was Redcrosse’s companion shortly before, she fights against Arthur and his squire. In this scene, Duessa serves as an allusion to the Whore of Babylon in the Book of Revelations. Both are clad in purple and gold, and both ride a seven headed beast. Eventually Arthur is able to defeat the giant and the beast – Christ is the savior. With the help of Arthur – Christ – and Una – Truth, Duessa’s true identity is revealed to Redcrosse. He is both saved and enlightened by Arthur and Una.
March 18, 2015 at 9:56 pm
The comparison between King Arthur and Redcrosse, as the two protagonist nights in this work, strikes me. We know that Redcrosse is again and again distracted from his goal and succumbs to error, and only when King Arthur comes along is Redcrosse able to escape captivity. If we recall Canto 1 and the knight’s initial description, we remember that Redcrosse looked the part of the knight but there were signals that he wasn’t yet prepared to carry out his duty. Redcrosse is aware of his own importance to tale. On the contrary, King Arthur (who is not yet a king), doesn’t know much about his lineage. His tutor tells him that he is destined to be king, but beyond that Arthur knows nothing about his background. In a sense, this speaks to the idea that knowledge can actually lead to bad decisions and immoral behavior, which seems counter intuitive, but to put it simply, ignorance is bliss. Like a child, Arthur is driven by an innate sense of right and wrong. For Redcrosse, things go bad when he thinks too much about what is right and what is wrong.
March 18, 2015 at 9:54 pm
Like Lana, I was also fascinated by the “Duessa stripped” scene in Canto 8, and how it was her clothes that made her appear beautiful. In a way, it reminded me of the House of Pride, “painted cunningly”. Duessa was also painted and adorned in a cunning manner so as to appear beautiful, as “Fidessa”. However, just like the House of Pride, her disguise can be easily removed by the force of good, because she has no real foundation and is also somewhat of a ruinous structure, as we see by her revolting description.
Throughout the Faerie Queen, Duessa’s clothes are often described. For example, when she leaves with the Giant, he gives her the “gold and purple pall”, as well as a “triple crowne”, rewarding her deception with more means of doing it. Clearly, her clothing is an important part of her identity, whereas someone pure of heart would not rely so much on material possessions. On the other hand, with Una, we are given very little description of her clothing, though we know it’s white. Duessa’s clothes, multicolored and also multi-layered, imply her duplicity. Once the layers of deception are taken off, her true self is revealed.
March 18, 2015 at 9:42 pm
The events of Canto Seven further illustrate the weakness of Redcrosse’s character. The “false Duessa” (p. 102) once again exerts her power over the knight when she finds him “foreby a fountaine syde” (102) and they “bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous shade” (103) together. This encounter shows Redcrosse’s relentless susceptibility to falseness, a quality that has thus far proved to be his most central flaw throughout Book One of “The Faerie Queene”. Spenser exhibits the opposite natures of Una and Duessa by portraying them in close proximity of each other during Canto Seven. Just as her reminder of faith saves him when he is losing his battle with Errours, Una is again shown as the source of Redcrosse’s salvation when she brings Arthur to slay Orgoglio, thus freeing the faltering knight from captivity. This instance further proves the overriding power of Una and her pure virtues. In this same way, the theme of solidarity is advanced when Duessa, the personification of doubleness, is banished to the woods by Una, Arthur and Redcrosse. Spenser’s personal values can be seen through the continuous battles between morality and evil. Despite Duessa’s temptations, Una always resurfaces to save the day, proving the presiding strength of integrity.
March 18, 2015 at 8:20 pm
In class we have spoken a great deal about religion and how that plays into the story of the Faerie Queene. What I find most fascinating in regards to the topic of religion in this book, however, is the commentary and references to Spenser’s view on the Catholic church. We know that Spenser was a Protestant (based on background information), and with that information in mind, all the references to Catholicism starts to become clear attacks on the church. For instance, the scene outside of the castle in cantos 8. This the point in the story where Duessa comes out of the castle on her “many headed beast” (stanza 6 line 2), which is a direct parallel to the scene in the Book of Revelation in which the woman appears atop of her multi-headed beast. This character is most commonly known for being the whore of babylon which the Protestant church uses to reference and shame the Catholic church. This resemblance between the two stories is not only prevalent in the similarities between the creature’s both women are riding, but the colors associated with each story as well. In both the Book of Revelation and The Faerie Queene, the two woman are associated with the color purple – one is riding a purple beast and one is clothed in the color (“Enforst her purple beast with all her might” – stanza 13 line 3). Even further, the mention of the “golden cup” is another similarity between the two stories confirming the relationship between the Protestant church and it’s downward gaze upon the Catholic church (“Then took the angrie witch her golden cup” – stanza 14 line 1). At this point I am wondering where this commentary on the Catholic church will go? Will it become a major focus and point of the book…to make a statement on religion and the differences between the two major Christian church’s. In addition, will the contention between the Catholic and Protestant church play a role in the other religious issues and themes throughout the book?
March 18, 2015 at 8:13 pm
I’ve been fascinated by the recurring imagery of monstrous women (and especially mothers) throughout the entirety of The Faerie Queene. From the very first Canto, with the monster Error, all the way through to Duessa, with her monstrously ugly form, every woman Spencer writes about is a bad influence and is physically disgusting. The first woman in canto 7 is the nymph of the lazy waters. Spencer tells us that Diana “badd the waters, which from her did flow,/Be such as she her selfe was then in place” (canto 7, stanza 5, page 103). It cannot be a coincidence that the mounstrous part of this woman–her sloth–is represented in the “waters, which from her did flow.” Like water, menstrual blood flows from the body of a woman every month, and is a reminder of her fertility. It is not just sloth that is this nymph’s vice–it seems that her very womanhood turns her into a negative figure in the story. Spencer then spends quite a lot of space explaining the monster Orgoglio’s parenthood. He writes, “the greatest Earch his uncouth mother was,/And blustring Aeolus his boasted sire,/Who with his breath, which through the world doth pass,/Her hollow womb did secretly inspyre,/And fild her hidden caves with stormie yre,/That she conceiv’d,; and trebling the dew time,/In which hte wombes of wemen doe expyre,/brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slime…” (page 105, canto 7, stanza 9). It is woman who here is responsible for the production of this monster. Yes, Aeolus has a part in the whole production, but it Earth’s fertile emptiness, her “hidden caves” and “hollow womb” that allow the monster to spring forth. Once again, it is the fertility of womanhood that symbolizes the monstrous.
In comparison, Una, the only good woman in the story, is constantly referred to as “virgin.” To be a virgin is to be pure, to be whole, to be implicitly infertile. Una is less woman than purity itself. It seems like for Spencer, womanhood is symbolized by fertility, and fertility is threatening. It is only when the woman’s power of maternity is taken away, when she reduced to a pure and whole and unfertile thing, that Spencer allows her to exist as a force for good.
March 18, 2015 at 6:55 pm
The incident at the end of Canto Eight, in which Arthur and Una disrobe Duessa to show Redcrosse her horrible true form, is reminiscent of earlier instances of the stories where “foul” creatures are described in female terms: the beast Error in the cave in the first canto, the figure of Night during the “descent into Hell” episode in the House of Pride. The grotesque description of Duessa’s scabbed, bald, and wizened body reinforces the idea that inner immorality is reflected with outer ugliness—Duessa, depraved and deceptive, is one of the most revolting creatures we have met so far. Particular attention is paid to her lack of hair, “dried dugs” and “neather parts” (133) so awful that the narrator dare not describe them: sexual organs and features closely associated with sexuality. It would follow that Duessa’s wickedness and sexual looseness (as described in the opening of Canto Seven) especially plagues the parts most important to her deceptive seduction of men.
I am interested in, and confused by, the manner in which Duessa is stripped. The description seems to indicate that they are taking off Duessa’s “roiall robes” headdress, and jewelry, but there is no mention of removing a “skin” or a “mask” or some other cosmetic device that would make her appear beautiful. It is as though Redcrosse was not taken by any natural or inherent beauty but by her extravagant trappings and dressings. In the allegory, I feel this fits: beauty of the body and face is given by God, but rich clothes, jewelry and other “disguises” are manmade fabrications. Overindulgence in the world of man indicates excessive vanity and pride. So it would make sense that Duessa had never actually transformed into a beautiful woman, but had simply dolled herself up so much that her ugliness was no longer a focal point.
March 16, 2015 at 8:09 pm
Lucifera’s carriage is pulled by beasts who are affiliated with six of the daily sins. The first deadly sin introduced is Idlenesse (Sloth). Idlenesse is compared to a “holy Monck” (59). The comparison of the a monk to a deadly sin enforces anti-Catholic satire. Gluttony is introduced next and is classically described as a being that over indulges in worldly distractions. I find it ironic that deadly sins that would be the least qualified to pull a carriage are described first. Lechery (lust) once again is classically described. The color green is used to describe both Gluttony and Lechery. Does the color green have an evil associations?
Avarice (Greed) is physically described as having gout. The sore is so painful that he is unable to stand. Gout has been associated as the disease of kings. Historically gout was observed to be found in older men who wore themselves out during their youth. Spenser is making the point that Greed consumes one’s life. Envy is described as having a “venomous tode” between his “crankred teeth” (62). This physical description perfectly captures the ugly nature jealousy promotes. Envy’s “kirtle of discoloured say” can imply the sin is mostly affiliated with woman (62).
Wrath (Rage) is the last deadly sin described. Spenser purposely describes Wrath as the last deadly sin of the six to suggest that at times Redcrosse at times has been associated with the sin, such as the time he fought for Duessa. Envy is also represented when Redcrosse assumes Una gave her virginity to another man.
The final deadly sin that is missing is pride. Redcrosse is represented at times as the 7th deadly sin of pride. Depending on his actions he ultimately may join the beasts who pull Lucifera’s carriage.
March 16, 2015 at 1:06 pm
In Canto 6, the “wyld woodgods” come to save Una from Sansloy, which I first interpreted as nature’s rescue, much like the character of the lion in Canto 3. However, there are some distinct differences between these wood creatures and the lion that point to Spenser’s commentary on the workings of nature. The wood gods save Una from the rapist, but then they begin to “worship her as Goddesse of the wood,” suggesting Pagan idolatry, and thus impurity. In contrast, the lion seems to represent a more uncorrupted natural form: “The lyon would not leave her desolate / But with her went along, as a strong gard / Of her chaste person, and a faythfull mate.” The relationship between Una and the lion shows his faithfulness to her, that he is under her commandment and at her aid. As such, I found a split in Spenser’s portrayal of nature from these two examples. Maybe he is suggesting that not all nature is pure? The wood gods submit to Una and bow down to her, but they seem to uphold her as an idol, rather than as a representation of truth, like the lion does. However, Satyrane still possesses goodness and tries to help Una. What, then, is Spenser’s point in using the wood creatures? Are they good, evil, or a mixture of both?
March 15, 2015 at 7:22 pm
A large component of Spenser’s allegorical strategy in The Faerie Queene is his use of animal figures in association with the human characters of the story. In Canto Four, we see the six sage councilors of Queen Lucifera paired with animals in order to increase the overtness of the six sinful tendencies that they represent. This description of the six figures appears from stanzas 18-35 and reminds me of the long aside that the Knight takes in his tale when he describes the three temples dedicated to Venus, Mars, and Athena.
In particular, the sixth portrait of Wrath is striking because the Lion, significant enough in the previous canto to be considered a real character, reappears in a completely contrary representation. Una’s lion appears after a stanza that idealizes this maiden’s radiance and purity: “Her angels face / As the great eye of heaven shyned bright, / And made a sunshine in the shady place” (39). The furious lion forgets his rage at the sight of Una and the presence of her purity, and “he her wronged innocence did weep” (40). This relationship feels human, and is certainly symbiotic for both sides.
To counteract this portrayal of the lion, Spenser pairs the same beast with the sinful figure of Wrath in Canto Four. Wrath rides upon the lion, “Trembling through hasty rage” and “staind with blood” (p. 63). His portrayal is inherently not majestic, which mocks the metaphorical representation of the noble lion. This lion that Wrath rides is akin to Scar, whereas Una’s lion is Mufasa or Aslan. It is also interesting that Wrath and his lion are last in the order of Spenser’s six descriptions. Reader-response theory helps us to understand that we would expect a prideful lion to come first, but by placing it last, Spenser degrades it further. Most of the other sinful figures have obvious animal associations—Gluttony with a swine, for example—but the juxtaposition of Wrath and a lion is intended more as a contradiction and mockery of Una than a criticism of the lion. These contrasting depictions of a single symbol force the reader to realize that we cannot read everything only through our first impressions and that many allegorical symbols in The Faerie Queene allow for multiple layers of meaning.
March 17, 2015 at 1:01 pm
We’ve talked a lot in class lately about the treatment of religion throughout the book, and this treatment of religion often comes in the form of the characterization of certain characters. But what we haven’t talked about is the role of gender within this book, which was a huge part of our reading of The Canterbury Tales. It could simply be that Spenser is making a comment on religion and not on gender, but I’m not yet sure. What does it mean that Redcrosse, the Knight of Holiness, is so easily tricked by a false woman in the first place? Is Spenser putting more power into the hands of the female figure, by allowing her to control Redcrosse? Or is Spenser putting down the female figure in a way, by making the true woman so unimportant and literally unnoticed by the knight? It’s also interesting to note that all of the ‘roots’ of the falseness in this story lie with women. The figure of Night is female, and, again, is seen as the root of Duessa’s race, associating her with dishonesty and general negativity. We haven’t yet seen too many examples of how male and female characters interact, but I’m very interested to see how the role of the female character may change throughout each Book.