In Chapter One of Between Men, Sedgwick explores how gender shapes up in erotic triangles. She explains that “in any erotic rivalry, the bond that links the two rivals is as intense and potent as the bond that links either of the rivals to the beloved: that the bonds of ‘rivalry’ and ‘love,’ differently as they are experienced, are equally powerful and in many senses equivalent” (23). The relationship between King Leontes and King Polixenes makes this quote salient. To start, the two men are both kings which establishes tension as their states compete, illustrated in Camillo discussing the merits of the two. Moreover, the way the lords discuss Leontes and Polixenes mimics how marriage might be discussed, implying that their relationship may be just as important: “The heavens continue their loves.” The sacred diction of “heaven” evokes the religious institution of marriage that supports the two men’s relationship almost like a such. In Winter’s Tale central erotic triangle, the two men’s relationship mirrors, and honestly is more powerful than, the relationship between Leontes and Hermione. But when Leontes ask Polixenes to stay for longer, he declines. Perhaps Leontes anger and jealousy is not just at the thought of their affair, but he is upset that he was not convincing enough for his dearest friend to stay a little bit longer.
excellent! I think we might start with that little discussion between the lords, because it establishes, as you say, a significant intensity of relationship between L and P from the beginning.
In reading Sedgewick’s piece about “gender asymmetry and erotic triangles”, I was struck by a quote of Coppélia Kahn’s: “While the boy’s sense of self begins in union with the feminine, his sense of masculinity arises against it” (pp. 25). In this section, Sedgewick seeks to exemplify the ways in which masculinity is constructed through an individual’s early relationships to both men and women; and, ultimately, how those relationships perpetuate a patriarchal social organization that favors homosocial links between men in power.
I was thinking about this passage when I read Act 2, scene 1 of “The Winter’s Tale”. In this part of the play, it is possible to track Mamillius’ relationships to both the women in his life (including his mother and her ladies), and to his father. I was interested to see how, in line with Kahn’s analysis, Mamillius displays affection towards his mother but the beginnings of misogyny towards the other women in the scene. When asked by the first lady if he’ll play with her, he says, “No, I’ll none of you” (2.1.3). In defense of his dismissal, Mamillius explains that it’s because “You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if I were a baby still” (2.15-6). Here, we see an aversion to have a maternal relationship to any women who isn’t his own mother. A few lines later, Mamillius tells the ladies which of their physical attributes (and those of women in general) he finds attractive. The disjunction between Mamillius’ treatment of his mother and his treatment of other women is stark, and seems to align with Kahn’s notion that men must reconcile their personal interests with their social responsibilities.
Mamilliu’s willingness to divulge his objectification of women seems sanctioned by the patriarchal system in which he is being raised– already, at a young age, he is being molded to see women as objects of sexual desire. To me, this is a strong example of the ways in which gender roles are constructed and hierarchies are ingrained, thus reinforcing the masculinity-oriented culture which leads to the imprisonment of Hermione.
Really interesting–I had thought of this scene as showing Mamillius’s invovlement in the world of women, and his intimacy with them, but you are absolutely right that he shows here a budding awareness of a masculine objectification of them. good work!
I found Sedwick’s discussion of “Gender Asymmetry and Erotic Triangles” particularly useful in helping to explain Leontes’ sudden shift from love for both his wife and his best friend to otherwise inexplicable rage and hatred in act one scene two. Although working with the actors yesterday certainly made the shift feel more believable, neither of the two characterizations of Leontes’ we discussed as either a busy man who snaps or an overly sensitive and obsessive husband who everyone tip-toes around made sense to me, especially given the amount of time he had spent in Polixenes had spent with the couple in Sicilia. I have a hard time believing that, over the course of nine months, Polixenes and Hermione never before reached the level of intimacy expressed in this conversation. If Leontes was really driven into his murderous rage purely by feeling his marriage was threatened by this relatively innocuous conversation, it seems like it would have happened sooner in Polixenes stay. Jealousy over his wife alone does not explain Leontes rage where jealousy of his wife and her power over the object of his homosocial love might. Following the work of René Girard, Sedgwick explains how “in any erotic rivalry, the bond that links the two rivals is as intense and potent as the bond that links either of the rivals to the beloved” (23). Indeed, we are given far more evidence of a deep and potent bond between Polixenes and Leontes than between either of the men and Hermione. In one of the very first lines of the play, Camillo describes the relationship between the two men: “they were trained together in their childhoods; and/
there rooted betwixt them such an affection/ which cannot choose but branch now” (1.1.22-4). Although their duties often separate them in adulthood they maintained their relationship with
interchanges of
gifts, letters, loving embassies: they have seemed
to be together, though absent; shook hands as over a
vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of
opposed winds. (1.1.27-31)
Hermione is the odd (wo)man out in this relationship until, despite the length commitment and depth of Polixenes and Leontes love, she convinces Polixenes to stay where her husband could not. The strength of her tongue threatens the bond between the two men as much or more than it threatens the marriage between her and her husband. Indeed, as Leontes panic over the interaction grows, he questions his servants not about the romantic nature of the interaction, but whether it was publically observed that a woman had more sway over the most profound love in his life than he did.
excellent–your quotation from that little window scene (which we’ll look at today) really helps make an argument that the real relationship here is not between L and H but between L and P. very good!
It was interesting to see what Breitenberg said about masculine anxiety (that men create the very anxiety they are trying to contain) being materialized through Leontes’ character in Winter’s Tale. Indeed, like Sarah and Gemma brought up in this thread, Leontes instantly falls into madness after planting the very idea of Hermoine’s infidelity into his head with only mere suppositions. Unlike Othello, however, he did not need any more “ocular proof” of Hermoine’s adultery–the fact that she is pregnant gave that away. He points attention to her maternal body in Act 2.1.87: “Praise her but for this her without-door form.” He brings shame upon her “without-door form,” her supposed open body that houses the evidence of her infidelity.
Leontes’ public humiliation of Hermoine (in front of her ladies and his men) not only shames a woman’s nature but also functions in two different ways that are equally damaging to Leontes’ masculine identity. First, his public announcement of her infidelity taints his masculine reputation. Breitenberg posits that a woman’s chastity symbolizes a man’s honour and status, as they are the ones who own their wives, and so that chastity must be publicly presented in order to gain that validation. Instead, what he had to show was evidence of what was not rightfully his anymore–Hermoine was no longer his possession because of her supposed infidelity, the baby in her womb also was not his. So what does Leontes have left now?
Secondly, during his numerous encounters with his men–Camillo and Antigonus for instance–he desperately tries to get them to validate his accusations. Homosociality functions in these scenes in what Breitenberg calls as the “staging and articulating [of] anxiety as a way to construct identity by naming a common experience and a shared adversary” (Breitenberg, 13). Leontes misses the mark with Camillo, but he especially convinced Antigonus of his accusations, thereby creating Antigonus as an accomplice–someone to share his anxiety with. Indeed, Antigonus violently agrees and proclaims in Act 2.1.176-179:
I’ll geld [my daughters]; fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;
And I had rather glib myself than they
Should not produce fair issue.
Antigonus lumps all women together for the queen’s infidelity–if the Queen committed adultery, then every woman is adulterous. Antigonus threatens to “geld” his daughter, to castrate them, so they may never bear illegitimate children while he is alive. I fear for his daughters but I also pity him–in what way would her daughters be affected if he actually did “glib [himself]”? He will only stop his own patrilineal lines while stripping himself of his own masculinity, as defined by having a phallus. This is an interesting contradiction. Leontes, in finding Antigonus as an ally for his masculine anxieties, thereby perpetuates this anxiety all the while revealing inconsistencies and instability within masculine creation of identity.
excellent work, and lovely to see you all reading each other’s posts. Great observations here on the intersection of Breitenberg’s analysis with this play, and the rampant masculine anxiety we see there. I particularly like your reading of Antigonus–he is almost like the barber in B’s real life example…
Sarah, really interesting points. I also felt that Breitenberg’s argument about anxious masculinity fit into The Winter’s Tale, and particularly Leontes’ his spiral into insanity. Breitenberg argues that masculinity is “inherently anxious” and “a necessary and inevitable condition that operates on at least two significant levels: it reveals the fissures and contradictions of patriarchal systems, and, at the same time, it paradoxically enables and drives patriachy’s reproduction and continuation of itself’ (Breitenberg 2). We see this play out in Leontes’ all-consuming fear of cuckoldry and betrayal. Speaking to a wider anxiety of a patriarch, Leontes’ anxiety is based in not just the fear of losing his power, but being publicly embarrassed by it. However, this anxiety is so all-consuming that he ends up embarrassing himself even more by projecting his fears onto Hermione and all of his closest men. Over and over again, Leontes accuses his men and his wife of crimes they did not commit, purely because he is afraid of losing his (very unstable) power, yet even his accusations are said with a hint of insecurity. We see this in I.2 when Leontes cries out:
… Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? – a note of infallible
Of breaking honesty! … (I.2.284-288)
Although Leontes eventually comes to the conclusion that “My wife is nothing,” (said with a conclusive full stop), he has to ask these quasi-rhetorical questions of Camillo before he comes to this conclusion, as if he is searching for some sense of validation in his fears. When he does not get this, he jumps to the worst possible accusation, resulting in the death of his wife.
As I read The Winter’s Tale, I was compelled to tie Leontes’ patriarchal anxiety to King Lear’s, but I quickly realized a fundamental difference between Shakespeare’s two corrupt kings: while Lear is obsessed with power for power’s sake, Leontes is obsessed with the maintenance of his manhood (and its power as a byproduct of this). I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on this…
wonderful comments and connections here, both to Sarah’s post and the Breitenberg reading. I particularly liked your reading of the publicness of Leontes’ self-shaming, and the self destructive impulses represented in his speeches–the nothing speech being a perfect example. Well done!
Breitenberg’s theory of anxious masculinity fits incredibly well with the first two acts of The Winter’s Tale, in which Leontes descends into what appears to be a fit of jealous madness spurred by the imminent birth of his second child. Breitenberg explores masculine anxiety as both a destabilizing force within the patriarchal order, and a generative energy that reinforces patriarchal norms. We see this in The Winter’s Tale, I think, as Leontes becomes increasingly paranoid. As he loses his grip on reality, he both becomes a less stable leader in the eyes of his court and he also begins reinforcing stricter rules of conduct for the women in his presence (he orders Antigonus to silence and remove Paulina from his hall, for example).
Breitenberg writes about masculine anxiety as exceeding it’s logical point of conclusion and becoming a destructive force. He gives the example of the baker who castrates himself so he can know for certain whether his wife is faithful. This is an utter paradox, because the fear of infidelity was theoretically the fear of raising another man’s child, because propagating your own line was the ultimate goal. By castrating himself, the baker can prove the former but prohibits the latter, which makes no sense. In the fear of losing his manhood at the hands of his wife’s libido, the baker has removed it himself. This story has a similar feeling to me as The Winter’s Tale. By locking his wife away and banishing his daughter, Leontes diminishes his line, which is similar though not as drastic as what the baker has done.
The pernicious thing about the masculine anxiety about cuckoldry specifically is that once you are suspicious, you can do little to objectively disprove your fears (especially pre-DNA testing). In Leontes’ case, every little thing seems to confirm his worries, since they are unfounded in reality as it is. To me, this connects back to Breitenberg’s point about masculine anxiety being born from trying to naturalize a socially constructed order — or in this case, trying to guarantee control over the uncontrollable, another human person. It struck me that a society designed to function based on patrilineal lines, at a time patrilineal lines cannot be proven, is an inherently unstable one.
excellent–and you sparked some interesting comments among your fellow bloggers, as well! Great connection here to Breitenberg’s point about anxiety as both revealing the fissures in patriarchal structures and producing the energy to shore up the system–we definitely see that here. And a great connection to Breitenberg’s story about the baker–it is as though Leontes is symbolically castrating himself here.
October 10, 2019 at 7:35 am
In Chapter One of Between Men, Sedgwick explores how gender shapes up in erotic triangles. She explains that “in any erotic rivalry, the bond that links the two rivals is as intense and potent as the bond that links either of the rivals to the beloved: that the bonds of ‘rivalry’ and ‘love,’ differently as they are experienced, are equally powerful and in many senses equivalent” (23). The relationship between King Leontes and King Polixenes makes this quote salient. To start, the two men are both kings which establishes tension as their states compete, illustrated in Camillo discussing the merits of the two. Moreover, the way the lords discuss Leontes and Polixenes mimics how marriage might be discussed, implying that their relationship may be just as important: “The heavens continue their loves.” The sacred diction of “heaven” evokes the religious institution of marriage that supports the two men’s relationship almost like a such. In Winter’s Tale central erotic triangle, the two men’s relationship mirrors, and honestly is more powerful than, the relationship between Leontes and Hermione. But when Leontes ask Polixenes to stay for longer, he declines. Perhaps Leontes anger and jealousy is not just at the thought of their affair, but he is upset that he was not convincing enough for his dearest friend to stay a little bit longer.
October 10, 2019 at 10:31 am
excellent! I think we might start with that little discussion between the lords, because it establishes, as you say, a significant intensity of relationship between L and P from the beginning.
October 9, 2019 at 10:43 pm
In reading Sedgewick’s piece about “gender asymmetry and erotic triangles”, I was struck by a quote of Coppélia Kahn’s: “While the boy’s sense of self begins in union with the feminine, his sense of masculinity arises against it” (pp. 25). In this section, Sedgewick seeks to exemplify the ways in which masculinity is constructed through an individual’s early relationships to both men and women; and, ultimately, how those relationships perpetuate a patriarchal social organization that favors homosocial links between men in power.
I was thinking about this passage when I read Act 2, scene 1 of “The Winter’s Tale”. In this part of the play, it is possible to track Mamillius’ relationships to both the women in his life (including his mother and her ladies), and to his father. I was interested to see how, in line with Kahn’s analysis, Mamillius displays affection towards his mother but the beginnings of misogyny towards the other women in the scene. When asked by the first lady if he’ll play with her, he says, “No, I’ll none of you” (2.1.3). In defense of his dismissal, Mamillius explains that it’s because “You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if I were a baby still” (2.15-6). Here, we see an aversion to have a maternal relationship to any women who isn’t his own mother. A few lines later, Mamillius tells the ladies which of their physical attributes (and those of women in general) he finds attractive. The disjunction between Mamillius’ treatment of his mother and his treatment of other women is stark, and seems to align with Kahn’s notion that men must reconcile their personal interests with their social responsibilities.
Mamilliu’s willingness to divulge his objectification of women seems sanctioned by the patriarchal system in which he is being raised– already, at a young age, he is being molded to see women as objects of sexual desire. To me, this is a strong example of the ways in which gender roles are constructed and hierarchies are ingrained, thus reinforcing the masculinity-oriented culture which leads to the imprisonment of Hermione.
October 10, 2019 at 10:32 am
Really interesting–I had thought of this scene as showing Mamillius’s invovlement in the world of women, and his intimacy with them, but you are absolutely right that he shows here a budding awareness of a masculine objectification of them. good work!
October 9, 2019 at 11:50 am
I found Sedwick’s discussion of “Gender Asymmetry and Erotic Triangles” particularly useful in helping to explain Leontes’ sudden shift from love for both his wife and his best friend to otherwise inexplicable rage and hatred in act one scene two. Although working with the actors yesterday certainly made the shift feel more believable, neither of the two characterizations of Leontes’ we discussed as either a busy man who snaps or an overly sensitive and obsessive husband who everyone tip-toes around made sense to me, especially given the amount of time he had spent in Polixenes had spent with the couple in Sicilia. I have a hard time believing that, over the course of nine months, Polixenes and Hermione never before reached the level of intimacy expressed in this conversation. If Leontes was really driven into his murderous rage purely by feeling his marriage was threatened by this relatively innocuous conversation, it seems like it would have happened sooner in Polixenes stay. Jealousy over his wife alone does not explain Leontes rage where jealousy of his wife and her power over the object of his homosocial love might. Following the work of René Girard, Sedgwick explains how “in any erotic rivalry, the bond that links the two rivals is as intense and potent as the bond that links either of the rivals to the beloved” (23). Indeed, we are given far more evidence of a deep and potent bond between Polixenes and Leontes than between either of the men and Hermione. In one of the very first lines of the play, Camillo describes the relationship between the two men: “they were trained together in their childhoods; and/
there rooted betwixt them such an affection/ which cannot choose but branch now” (1.1.22-4). Although their duties often separate them in adulthood they maintained their relationship with
interchanges of
gifts, letters, loving embassies: they have seemed
to be together, though absent; shook hands as over a
vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of
opposed winds. (1.1.27-31)
Hermione is the odd (wo)man out in this relationship until, despite the length commitment and depth of Polixenes and Leontes love, she convinces Polixenes to stay where her husband could not. The strength of her tongue threatens the bond between the two men as much or more than it threatens the marriage between her and her husband. Indeed, as Leontes panic over the interaction grows, he questions his servants not about the romantic nature of the interaction, but whether it was publically observed that a woman had more sway over the most profound love in his life than he did.
October 10, 2019 at 10:33 am
excellent–your quotation from that little window scene (which we’ll look at today) really helps make an argument that the real relationship here is not between L and H but between L and P. very good!
October 8, 2019 at 12:17 am
It was interesting to see what Breitenberg said about masculine anxiety (that men create the very anxiety they are trying to contain) being materialized through Leontes’ character in Winter’s Tale. Indeed, like Sarah and Gemma brought up in this thread, Leontes instantly falls into madness after planting the very idea of Hermoine’s infidelity into his head with only mere suppositions. Unlike Othello, however, he did not need any more “ocular proof” of Hermoine’s adultery–the fact that she is pregnant gave that away. He points attention to her maternal body in Act 2.1.87: “Praise her but for this her without-door form.” He brings shame upon her “without-door form,” her supposed open body that houses the evidence of her infidelity.
Leontes’ public humiliation of Hermoine (in front of her ladies and his men) not only shames a woman’s nature but also functions in two different ways that are equally damaging to Leontes’ masculine identity. First, his public announcement of her infidelity taints his masculine reputation. Breitenberg posits that a woman’s chastity symbolizes a man’s honour and status, as they are the ones who own their wives, and so that chastity must be publicly presented in order to gain that validation. Instead, what he had to show was evidence of what was not rightfully his anymore–Hermoine was no longer his possession because of her supposed infidelity, the baby in her womb also was not his. So what does Leontes have left now?
Secondly, during his numerous encounters with his men–Camillo and Antigonus for instance–he desperately tries to get them to validate his accusations. Homosociality functions in these scenes in what Breitenberg calls as the “staging and articulating [of] anxiety as a way to construct identity by naming a common experience and a shared adversary” (Breitenberg, 13). Leontes misses the mark with Camillo, but he especially convinced Antigonus of his accusations, thereby creating Antigonus as an accomplice–someone to share his anxiety with. Indeed, Antigonus violently agrees and proclaims in Act 2.1.176-179:
I’ll geld [my daughters]; fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;
And I had rather glib myself than they
Should not produce fair issue.
Antigonus lumps all women together for the queen’s infidelity–if the Queen committed adultery, then every woman is adulterous. Antigonus threatens to “geld” his daughter, to castrate them, so they may never bear illegitimate children while he is alive. I fear for his daughters but I also pity him–in what way would her daughters be affected if he actually did “glib [himself]”? He will only stop his own patrilineal lines while stripping himself of his own masculinity, as defined by having a phallus. This is an interesting contradiction. Leontes, in finding Antigonus as an ally for his masculine anxieties, thereby perpetuates this anxiety all the while revealing inconsistencies and instability within masculine creation of identity.
October 8, 2019 at 10:32 am
excellent work, and lovely to see you all reading each other’s posts. Great observations here on the intersection of Breitenberg’s analysis with this play, and the rampant masculine anxiety we see there. I particularly like your reading of Antigonus–he is almost like the barber in B’s real life example…
October 7, 2019 at 8:20 pm
Sarah, really interesting points. I also felt that Breitenberg’s argument about anxious masculinity fit into The Winter’s Tale, and particularly Leontes’ his spiral into insanity. Breitenberg argues that masculinity is “inherently anxious” and “a necessary and inevitable condition that operates on at least two significant levels: it reveals the fissures and contradictions of patriarchal systems, and, at the same time, it paradoxically enables and drives patriachy’s reproduction and continuation of itself’ (Breitenberg 2). We see this play out in Leontes’ all-consuming fear of cuckoldry and betrayal. Speaking to a wider anxiety of a patriarch, Leontes’ anxiety is based in not just the fear of losing his power, but being publicly embarrassed by it. However, this anxiety is so all-consuming that he ends up embarrassing himself even more by projecting his fears onto Hermione and all of his closest men. Over and over again, Leontes accuses his men and his wife of crimes they did not commit, purely because he is afraid of losing his (very unstable) power, yet even his accusations are said with a hint of insecurity. We see this in I.2 when Leontes cries out:
… Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? – a note of infallible
Of breaking honesty! … (I.2.284-288)
Although Leontes eventually comes to the conclusion that “My wife is nothing,” (said with a conclusive full stop), he has to ask these quasi-rhetorical questions of Camillo before he comes to this conclusion, as if he is searching for some sense of validation in his fears. When he does not get this, he jumps to the worst possible accusation, resulting in the death of his wife.
As I read The Winter’s Tale, I was compelled to tie Leontes’ patriarchal anxiety to King Lear’s, but I quickly realized a fundamental difference between Shakespeare’s two corrupt kings: while Lear is obsessed with power for power’s sake, Leontes is obsessed with the maintenance of his manhood (and its power as a byproduct of this). I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on this…
October 8, 2019 at 10:34 am
wonderful comments and connections here, both to Sarah’s post and the Breitenberg reading. I particularly liked your reading of the publicness of Leontes’ self-shaming, and the self destructive impulses represented in his speeches–the nothing speech being a perfect example. Well done!
October 7, 2019 at 1:27 pm
Breitenberg’s theory of anxious masculinity fits incredibly well with the first two acts of The Winter’s Tale, in which Leontes descends into what appears to be a fit of jealous madness spurred by the imminent birth of his second child. Breitenberg explores masculine anxiety as both a destabilizing force within the patriarchal order, and a generative energy that reinforces patriarchal norms. We see this in The Winter’s Tale, I think, as Leontes becomes increasingly paranoid. As he loses his grip on reality, he both becomes a less stable leader in the eyes of his court and he also begins reinforcing stricter rules of conduct for the women in his presence (he orders Antigonus to silence and remove Paulina from his hall, for example).
Breitenberg writes about masculine anxiety as exceeding it’s logical point of conclusion and becoming a destructive force. He gives the example of the baker who castrates himself so he can know for certain whether his wife is faithful. This is an utter paradox, because the fear of infidelity was theoretically the fear of raising another man’s child, because propagating your own line was the ultimate goal. By castrating himself, the baker can prove the former but prohibits the latter, which makes no sense. In the fear of losing his manhood at the hands of his wife’s libido, the baker has removed it himself. This story has a similar feeling to me as The Winter’s Tale. By locking his wife away and banishing his daughter, Leontes diminishes his line, which is similar though not as drastic as what the baker has done.
The pernicious thing about the masculine anxiety about cuckoldry specifically is that once you are suspicious, you can do little to objectively disprove your fears (especially pre-DNA testing). In Leontes’ case, every little thing seems to confirm his worries, since they are unfounded in reality as it is. To me, this connects back to Breitenberg’s point about masculine anxiety being born from trying to naturalize a socially constructed order — or in this case, trying to guarantee control over the uncontrollable, another human person. It struck me that a society designed to function based on patrilineal lines, at a time patrilineal lines cannot be proven, is an inherently unstable one.
October 8, 2019 at 10:36 am
excellent–and you sparked some interesting comments among your fellow bloggers, as well! Great connection here to Breitenberg’s point about anxiety as both revealing the fissures in patriarchal structures and producing the energy to shore up the system–we definitely see that here. And a great connection to Breitenberg’s story about the baker–it is as though Leontes is symbolically castrating himself here.