The Discourse of the Victims: The Rhetoric of Activism and Rigoberta Menchú

Imagine that it is the 1980s and your home country of Guatemala is in the midst of a horrifying civil war.  The fighting is devastating and the soldiers are committing unfathomable acts of violence on civilians—especially your country’s women.  Rape, assault, and theft have all become an unfortunate part of everyday life.  But one woman is willing to tell your story—the story of you, of herself, and of an entire group of indigenous people.  Rhetoric is often used as a tool for political and civil discourse, but Rigoberta Menchú utilizes rhetoric as a tool to establish an identity for her people and as a way to mobilize them, calling to action a group of people that must protect this identity—we call this the rhetoric of activism.  Menchú tells the story of political and civil strife in a variety of highly effective ways.  Particularly in her written work I, Rigoberta Menchú, which consists of a testimony of war.  Her testimony tells others her story and changes the way readers and onlookers view her culture from the outside looking in by informing them of a situation they do not have the opportunity to see firsthand.   In addition to her written rhetoric, Menchú exhibited her rhetorical abilities through spoken discourse in political rallies and campaigns, and in a number of less obvious ways apparent later in this work.  The publicizing of the hardships of the indigenous Guatemalan people creates a shift in the way that the community and group view itself as a whole, and consequently mobilizes the entire community to act.  Menchú’s rhetoric, apparent in a variety of forms, is incredibly influential in a larger civil and political discourse.  While simultaneously resonating with her fellow citizens in an important way, Menchú has affected the entire world with her stories, her testimonies, her activism, and her greater call to action, through her use of the rhetoric of activism.

Rigoberta Menchú is an indigenous Guatemalan social activist who serves a multitude of roles.  Born to a financially-challenged Indian family in Guatemala in 1959, Menchú faced a lifetime of hardship at a very young age.  Menchú’s mother, father, and brother were kidnapped, tortured and murdered by members of the Guatemalan military.  In response to these atrocities, her sisters joined guerilla groups, while Menchú began organizing and speaking on behalf of her country’s indigenous people.

In the 1980s, Menchú began to speak out and publicize the rights of the indigenous people who were caught in the throes of the Guatemalan Civil War, which spanned from 1960 to 1996.  This 36-year war was fought between the government of Guatemala and the indigenous groups living there—particularly the Mayan people, of which Menchú belongs.  As a result of this horrific war, more than 200,000 people were killed and injured.  It is reported that about 83% of those 200,000 were Mayans (Miller). The war began after a series of uncomfortable moments in Guatemalan history.  In 1960, the country was governed by General Miguel Ydigoras Fuentes, but his authority was becoming increasingly autocratic.  In response, a number of “left-wing guerilla groups” began attacking government military forces (Miller).  With this, the Guatemalan Civil War ensued, until 1996 when it was ended by the signing of Peace Accords.  “The legacy of brutality left by decades of civil war [has been] referenced as a major contributor to both the abuse and murder of women in Guatemala and the general attitude of impunity with which many violent crimes are committed in Guatemala” (Miller).  The widespread oppression of the indigenous Mayan people and the violence inflicted on Guatemalan women urged Menchú to begin drawing attention the story of this group of marginalized people.

Menchú told stories of horrific fighting, death, rape, etc. and worked tirelessly to bring attention to the injustices being committed on her people, in particular the sexually violent acts committed against the indigenous Guatemalan women.  Menchú tells of the villages where “hundreds of women, young girls, [and] widows [were] pregnant because the soldiers had used them sexually” (Menchú 141).  Menchú goes on to describe how one can be killed at any time, but despite these overwhelming horrors, Menchú feels that “happiness belongs to everyone, but that happiness has been stolen by a few” and that is what motivates her to do the work that she does, her personal calling.  “I had to go and teach others,” she said (141).  In this excerpt from one of Menchú’s written works, we see Menchú explicitly stating her rhetorical exigence and describing her need for social action and advocacy that will lead to the eventual mobilization of an entire nationality of people.

To gain an understanding of what is meant by social action, we look to scholar Marc Pilisuk who writes that “social action is grassroots based, oriented more toward conflict than to consensus, focused upon direct action, and aimed at organizing a disadvantaged or aggrieved people to take action on their own behalf” (Pilisuk 16).  At its core, this definition of social action embodies the rhetoric of activism.

The rhetoric of activism is made up of the rhetorical meanings and functions of “social protest, change, and movements [and] at the center of such discourse is an exigency for change” (Sowards 57).  The rhetoric surrounding activism is complex and multifaceted and “requires organized, collective action” on behalf of the entire group striving for a change (58).  The rhetoric of activism functions to create a central leadership that utilizes a number of strategies to build a common identity within a group of people (58).  In the specific case of the indigenous Guatemalans under study here, Menchú recognized the need for a common identity in order to resist the horrors of a devastating civil war and ultimately to counteract them.  Once organized around a centralized identity, Menchú saw the opportunity for change among this group of people through a variety of social actions.  These actions allowed Menchú to present the problem to her people in a way that situated it as a clear and present danger, called for them to collaborate as one collective group, and finally to mobilize and act as a group to change the present circumstances.

Rigoberta Menchú’s most notable act of social organization and rallying was the creation of her political party Encuentro por Guatemala.  This political party allowed Menchú to reach the indigenous Guatemalan people in a variety of ways.  To fully understand the magnitude of Menchú’s work, we must first analyze the very name of the political party.  “Encuentro por Guatemala” translates to “Together for Guatemala.”  Menchú deliberately named the group in a way that would stress the need for unity among its members.  “Encuentro” can also be translated specifically as “union,” furthering Menchú’s call for collaboration and unification.  Furthermore, the symbol for the party consists of four green circles connected to one another by one larger red one.  This is said to stand for the four groups of people that make up the Guatemalan nationality.  These are the Mayas, Garifunas, Xincas, and the Ladinos (Encuentro Por Guatemala).  Although not traditional spoken rhetoric, the naming of the political party and the thought behind the creation of the political logo used as the face of the organization are both incredibly important unspoken rhetorical strategies employed by Menchú.  Both of these examples aid in furthering the message of unity and change that the political party itself stands for in its goal to further its message of indigenous activism.

Encuentro por Guatemala presents the problems the Guatemalan people continue to face almost 20 years after the end of the Civil War through a variety of events.  These events include meetings, rallies, speeches, etc.  Menchú’s political party now has a website, another important way of furthering her message.  Headings on the party’s website allow members to quickly navigate between a variety of “hot topics” and issues of concern.  The stories presented on the website allow the member to become personally situated within an issue.  In a digital world, Menchú ‘s website acts as an important piece of rhetoric in the sense that it easily allows large audiences to become informed on issues that face the indigenous Guatemalan people.  After working to align members, who have recently been advised on the ways to see themselves within the collective group, with the issues they’re fighting for, Menchú calls the group to action.  This call for action is explicitly stated in Encuentro Por Guatemala’s “Who We Are” section.     

In studying the “Who We Are” section of the party’s website, one can see Menchú stating that her political party believes in “an inclusive country, [seeking] profound changes in the political system” while fighting the “scourge of corruption and impunity” in the mission statement (“Nosotros”).  Inspired by the rhetoric of activism strategies employed by Menchú in the wake of her country’s civil war, the political party as a whole was a logical next step in her fight to unite and motivate her people for change.  The internet presence of Menchú’s party allows her message to reach greater numbers of people in a more personal way.  Visitors to the website can connect on their own time in the comfort and privacy of their own locations.  Overall, this is an incredibly important rhetorical strategy in both its efficiency and ease of use.

After working with her people to identify a number of certain issues, civil and financial in nature, whether face-to-face in a street in a Guatemalan rally or by way of her political party’s website mission statement, Menchú finally comes to the most important part of the rhetoric of activism—the mobilization of an informed group of people.  For example, with the backing of her political party, Menchú ran for president of Guatemala in the 2007 presidential election.  Menchú demonstrated her abilities as a rhetor in this run in a variety of ways.  In addition to the website’s coverage of the issues and campaign trail, campaigning consisted of a number of speeches, rallies, and various campaign events, all of which called for the demonstration of Menchú’s oratory rhetorical abilities.

Menchú gave a number of speeches, (many of which were given in a foreign language in a rural area of Guatemala to indigenous people and are not well-documented), in an attempt to mobilize her party and recruit new members to follow her and fight for her beliefs in a new political system and government.  Although Menchú ultimately lost the presidential election, earning only 3% of the total votes, she exhibited a number of important activist rhetorics.  For example, Menchú actively protested labor and human rights violations and abuses long before the campaign itself—from the time that she was in her early twenties (“Rigoberta Menchú Tum – Guatemala, 1992.”).  Her protests allowed her to speak to groups of indigenous people who understood and empathized with the oppression they faced on a daily basis.  The speeches given at these protests were the foundation of Menchú’s rhetoric of activism.  She used them as a way to inform others in her country and eventually as a call-to-action and mobilization tactic.

Armed with an in-depth understanding of Menchú’s exigence, tactics, and outcome of some political endeavors, we now must focus on why these aspects are important.  Why Menchú?  And why is she worth including in our larger context of the history of rhetoric and the feminist history of rhetoric?  First, it is important to consider the very cause Menchú fought for.  Menchú aimed to use rhetoric to shed light on a number of horrific issues that were affecting the lives of an indigenous group of marginalized people and to spread awareness of the military soldiers conducting those acts.  The rhetoric of activism, consisting of not only making people aware of the issues at hand, but also focused on mobilizing a group of people to act, is an important category of rhetoric we cannot ignore in our larger studies of the discipline.  As we know, rhetoric is used for a variety of purposes, and by including activism in that larger category, we further our understanding exponentially.

On this note, Menchú’s rhetoric of activism is also largely concerned with feminist views and the feminist history of rhetoric.  Menchú’s rhetoric of activism began as a way for her to tell the story of women who were facing sexual violence during the Guatemalan Civil War at the hands of the Guatemalan military’s soldiers.  She tells of the women’s hardship, brings awareness to it, and calls for something to be done, but she does not stop at only the women.  The larger context of the indigenous Mayan descendants that were the focus of Menchú’s rhetoric of activism helps us to understand the larger civil context.  Without Menchú’s rhetoric, students and scholars alike would be denied the opportunity to learn about the minority group.  Feminism is concerned with equal treatment for women and the non-majority and that is the very group that Menchú has dedicated her life fighting and raising awareness for.  Without the inclusion of Rigoberat Menchú, we, as students of Feminist History of Rhetoric, would be denied the alternate view of an entire group of people and their fight for the civil liberties enjoyed by the majority in Guatemala.  As students attempting to understand a viewpoint other than the mainstream majority, we would be denying ourselves an invaluable opportunity if we did not study a Nobel Peace Prize-winning figure like Rigoberta Menchú.  Not only did Menchú exhibit her rhetorical abilities through spoken discourse in political rallies and campaigns, but she also did so in a variety of other strategic ways as we have seen.  The publicizing of the hardships of the indigenous Guatemalan people created a shift in the way that the community viewed itself and ultimately mobilized an entire group of people to act, form a political party, and attempt to take power as the president of Guatemala.  Not only has Menchú been influential in a larger political discourse, but in a civil one as well.  While resonating with other indigenous people such as herself, Menchú has affected the entire world with her testimonies, her speeches, and has ultimately organized and mobilized an entire nation through the rhetoric of activism.

Works Cited

“Nosotros.” Encuentro Por Guatemala. Encuentro Por Guatemala, 2015. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

“Rigoberta Menchú Tum – Guatemala, 1992.” Nobel Women’s Initiative. Nobel Women’s Initiative. n.d. Web. 27 Nov. 2015.

Encuentro Por Guatemala. Encuentro Por Guatemala, n.d. Web. 16 Nov. 2015. <http://encuentro.gt/&gt;.

Menchú, Rigoberta. I, Rigoberta Menchú. Trans. Elisabeth Burgos. New York: Verso, 1984. Print.

Miller, Talea. “Timeline: Guatemala’s Brutal Civil War.” PBS: Public Broadcasting Station. NewHour Productions LLC., 7 Marc. 2011. Web. 24 Nov. 2015.

Pilisuk, Marc. JoAnn McAllister, and Jack Rothman. “Coming Together for Action: The Challenge of Contemporary Grassroots Community Organizing.” Journal of Social Issues 52.1 (1996): 15-37. Web. 9 Nov. 2015.

Sowards, Stacy K., and Valerie R. Renegar. “Reconceptualizing Rhetorical Activism in Contemporary Feminist Contexts.” The Howard Journal of Communications (2006): 57-74. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

Legalese–Your Laws, Their Language

No matter where you live, as a citizen of the United States, you are expected to follow a set of laws.  These laws govern everyday life, from how you drive to work, to the acts you’re allowed to commit while there, to how much money will come out of that paycheck for taxes at the end of the month.  The law is everywhere and it governs every part of everything we do on a daily basis.  But what is interesting about the law is that it is written for everyday people by people who have years and years of legal training.  These individuals write in a very specific manner, a manner that has earned itself its very own name—Legalese or Legal English.

I have always been interested in the English language and the study of Linguistics in general.  At the beginning of the semester, as I began to brainstorm an interesting topic for research with a linguistic component, I was simultaneously applying to law schools.  During this time it occurred to me that everyone is required to follow the law, but so few of us actually get the chance to formally study it.  This epiphany quickly turned into questions.  How is it possible that everyone must follow a law if not everyone got a chance to draft it and make it comprehensible?  Upon further contemplation, I began asking myself, could someone with no prior training in Legal English read a law that pertains to him/her and fully understand what is being expected of them?  Motivated by a need for a research topic and personal curiosity, I made the decision to conduct research to that end.

Legalese is a somewhat pejorative term that insinuates that this is legal jargon, unable to be fully comprehended by lay people.  Legalese, also called Legal English, differs from Standard English in its semantics, syntax, morphology, and most notably in its specialized vocabulary (Wydick 10).  According to an article written by Janet Randall[1] and Lucas Graf[2] at the Linguistic Society of America’s Annual Meeting in 2014, Legal English is “full of linguistic features that tax comprehension—passive verbs, nominalization, negatives, omitted arguments, and presupposed or undefined terminology” just to name a few (Randall, Jane, and Lucas Graf).  Randall and Graf conducted a similar study concerning the ease of understanding of current instructions given to potential jurors in a variety of court cases.  The pair cites two specific linguistic features that they hypothesize directly correlate with comprehension rates.  These include: “(1) passive verbs and (2) presupposed terms” (Randall, Jane, and Lucas Graf).  With this in mind, I analyzed the five questions given in my survey, outlined in detail beginning on page four, and recorded the number of passive verbs and verb phrases for each.  I then compared the total number of passives to the “correctess of each question,” in terms of percent of comprehension for each one.  Question one of the survey contained the highest number of passive verbs and passive verb phrases; however, question two had the lowest percentage of overall comprehension.  This overview of the survey given to my participants does not show a direct correlation between passive verbs and comprehension, but given more time and a larger sample, this very well might be the case.  The controversy of passives in writing in general, as well as in legal writing, requires devoted research all its own.

Another noted area responsible for the potential general incomprehensibility of Legal English lies in its syntax.  The syntax of Legalese differs from that of Standard English in its unusually long sentences.  One scholar who has studied the syntax of legal language states that  the reason for these long sentences “lies in the prescriptions (of drafters who follow the traditional style) regarding the order of clauses within a sentence” (“Legal Language: Style, Syntax, Lexicon, Semantics.”).  This type of logical structure is known as “modus ponens.”  Modus ponens must follow a very particular if “x” then “y”.  “If X” is the protasis and the “then Y” the apodosis” (“Legal Language: Style, Syntax, Lexicon, Semantics.”).  Legal language calls for a standard formula of description followed by a result.  While this type of syntax is ever-present in Standard English, it is not a required method in the expression of ideas like it is in Legal Englsih.  This requirement calls for longer sentences and ultimately, a more complex, potentially less comprehensible, sentence.

With a basic understanding of some features responsible in the makeup of Legal English, it’s no surprise that fluency and the ability to write and compose our laws only comes by way of study.  The very fact that one must study this sublanguage suggests its complexity, specialized vocabulary, and general incomprehensibility.  “A pragmatic analysis of legal discourse would be immensely important in order to eradicate the idiosyncrasies and ridiculous nature of language employed in [Legal English],” states one scholar, arguing for the research and work being conducted on this very issue (Makodia 155).[3]  As we know as students of the English language, the primary job of language is to communicate, and “language fails to communicate the moment all or one of [its] principles” of quality, quantity, relevance or manner fail, “which is what actually happens in a legal discourse” (155).

As a lawyer, writing is a huge component of daily job tasks and is expected to be done well, consistently.  In his teaching handbook, Richard Wydick[4] writes that “whatever lawyers write must be Clear, Correct, Concise, and Complete” in nature (3).  These attributes, taken together, set the standard for what is considered adequate legal writing.  It seems, after some study and research, that the “clear” component is what is missing from much of legal writing we encounter.  Scholars from a variety of fields seem to agree that ‘“the longer and more complicated the form, the less it probably accomplishes [its] goal”’ (Doglin 727).[5]

My research consisted of a multiple-choice online survey.  The survey started with five questions about various areas of laws that pertain to everyone living and working in Texas.  The questions were presented in a way that gave an excerpt of a chosen law in its original Legalese, and then a follow-up question asked those taking the survey to choose the answer that they believed most accurately defined the excerpt—what did the excerpt mean to them in “layman’s terms?”  The excerpts I chose were taken from laws that would be applicable to anyone taking the survey and that all participants were already legally obligated to follow.  The survey was untimed and each question had to be answered before moving on to the following one.  A breakdown of the question topics are as follows: Questions one and two consisted of excerpts from the Federal Tax Code published by the Internal Revenue Service.  Question one consisted of section 509(a) of the federal income tax law that the New York Times cited as “legendary” in its difficult sentence structure and wordy composition.  This same excerpt of federal income tax law was referenced by Ronald Reagan in his attempt to pass a tax reform bill during his time in office in 1986.[6]  Number two asked a question that was related to the annual tax table published by the IRS that allows one to determine how much he/she owes in taxes in a given calendar year.  Question three included an excerpt from a Texas traffic law that outlined when the Department of Transportation is allowed to legally close a public roadway to licensed drivers in the state of Texas.  Question four consisted of an excerpt from the Texas Constitution, specifically dealing with the right to hold public office by our elected officials.  And finally, question five consisted of an excerpt from a Texas law regarding the weather and emergency response to natural disasters.  All five of these laws pertained in some way or another to every person participating in the survey.

After the five law-related questions, I asked three demographic questions.  These demographic questions were interested in highest level of education completed, gender, and age range.  I wanted to see whether or not the level of education someone has received influences their understanding of laws.  Age is used in a variety of factors.  Age aids in determining what type of job-level that educated person may currently be employed in.  For example, a college graduate who is 25 years old has generally had less experience in the workforce than a 55-year-old who will be retiring soon.  Additionally, it is generally believed that those who are older may be wiser, due to more life experiences.  If this were the case, a 50-year-old would get more questions correct when compared to an 18-year-old, hypothetically.  The question being, does age necessarily correspond to wisdom in a legal sense?

The overall results of my survey were alarming to me.  First, it must be noted that two participants taking the survey answered all five of the law-related questions accurately.  Yet, despite these two, no single question had a 100% understanding.  By this I mean that there was not a single question asked that every participant was able to answer correctly.  Question three had the highest percentage of participants answering correctly with 80%, while question two had only 40% of participants answer it correctly.  This concerned me as a researcher because 100% of the people that took my survey are required to abide by those laws; failure to do so results in fines, traffic tickets, and ultimately jail time.

 

 

It is important to consider the demographics of those taking my survey as well when analyzing these results.  Ten total participants were included in the survey and sampling was somewhat random.  After creating the online survey, the link was sent to four family members, a number of friends and classmates, and one professor.  Not everyone who received the link took the survey and some of those that originally took the survey, sent the link to his/her friend.  The final survey demographics are as follows:

 

 

• Gender
  • 60% female
  • 40% male
• Age Range
  • 50% between 18-24
  • 10% between 25-34
  • 30% between 35-50
  • 10% 51+
• Education Level Achieved
  • High School: 0%
  • Associate’s: 10%
  • Bachelor’s: 70%
  • Master’s : 0%
  • Doctoral/Terminal: 20%

 

 

There are two main points I think we can take away when looking at the demographics of my survey compared to the overall percentages answered correctly.  In first looking at the age ranges, my hypothesis was that those who were older would do better on the survey because of a steadfast belief in society that age corresponds positively to wisdom.  However, despite this initial idea, it was not necessarily true.  In further analysis of the data, there were mixed results in age and correctness.  As I mentioned earlier, two participants answered all five law-related questions correctly.  One participant who answered all correctly was in fact from the “51+” age range, but the other was a member of “18-24.”  This means that there was a gap in the other ages between 34-50.  The chance to continue this research with a larger sample size would help to justify or dismiss this initial finding.  But for the purposes of this research, in the time allotted here, I think it is an interesting thing to note and consider moving forward.

Next, we look at the education levels of the participants.  What is significant about these demographics upon first glance is the fact that every participant in the survey had pursued some type of education beyond the high school level.  By cultural and societal standards today, we would consider each of these participants to be well-educated.  My original hypothesis here was that those that held higher degrees would be better educated and therefore, would ultimately end up answering more of the questions correctly.  However, similar to the age hypothesis, this hypothesis proved to be debunked with my research findings as well.  It is important to note that one of the doctoral degree-holders did answer all five law-related questions correctly.  The other participant who answered all questions correctly, however, belonged to the “Bachelor’s Degree” group.  Given the overall number of participants who took the survey and this information, we know that one terminal degree-holder and six Bachelor’s Degree-holders failed to answer all five questions correctly.  A larger and longer study would again help me to further validate these preliminary findings, but it is an important piece of information to note while analyzing the given results.

After gathering some information about how concerning this Legalese epidemic really is, the question then becomes, what are we going to do about it?  “The embellished murk of legal writing now inspires a cleanup campaign by two condemnatory professors.  They find lawyers guilty of word abuse, criminal pomposity, and briefs that aren’t” (Ludlow 257)[7].  Seminars are now given to lawyers in their respective firms that outline guidelines for more clear and concise writing.  Classes are offered, particularly by tax preparing services like H&R Block, that aim to inform laypeople of typical legal jargon they might encounter in popular areas of tax law—areas anyone preparing their own federal income taxes would need to fully and accurately understand.  By catching the problem at its source, the lawyer initially writing the document, hopefully classes for laypeople will not be necessary in the future.

After researching the components of Legal English, it is apparent that the understandability of the sublanguage as a whole presents issues for those who are expected to follow the important laws it makes up.  After conducting original research, and attempting to measure the level of understanding of those with no formal legal training, it is clear in just a few short examples, that there is not 100% understanding in any law we as citizens are required to follow.  The question then becomes, is it acceptable to enforce punishment for breaking laws one doesn’t understand?   There is a lot of research left to do on this topic and many ways to improve the situation so that general comprehensibility can be improved.  If everyone is required to understand Legalese and abide by it, then formal study in the sublanguage should not be required.

 

Works Cited

“Legal Language: Style, Syntax, Lexicon, Semantics.” The University of the South Pacific. University of the South Pacific. May 2003. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

Doglin, Elie. “Legalese Creates Consent ‘conundrum’ in Clinical Trials.” Nature Medicine 16.7 (2010): 727. Nature Medicine. Web. 28 Nov. 2015.

Ludlow, Lynn. “Legalese.” Etc. 47.3. (1990): 257. EBSCOhost. Web. 20 Nov. 2015.

Makodia, Vipulkumar V. “A Pragmatic Analysis of Legalese.” Language Forum 35.1 (2009): 155+. Literature Resource Center. Web. 14 Nov. 2015.

Randall, Jane, and Lucas Graf. Linguistics Meets “legalese”.: Syntax, Semantics, and Jury Instruction Reform. Rep. Northeastern University, Jan. 2014. Web. 28 Nov. 2015

Russell, Jason. “Look at How Many Pages Are in the Federal Tax Code.” Washington Examiner. N.p., 15 Apr. 2015. Web. 14 Nov. 2015.

Wydick, Richard C. Plain English for Lawyers: Teacher’s Manual. 5th ed. Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 2005. Print.

[1] Janet Randall is a professor of English at Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts.  She earned her PhD in Linguistics from The University of Massachusetts, Amherst.

[2] Lucas Graf is a faculty member in the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice at Northeastern University.  He and Janet Randall have published a number of articles together covering Linguistics and its relation to Criminology and the justice system.

[3] Dr. Vipul V. Makodia is a teacher of English Literature and Language at Bhavan Shri A.K. Doshi Mahila College in India.  He works internationally with other scholars in similar fields of study.

[4] Richard C. Wydick was a Professor of Law Emeritus at The University of California-Davis.  He received his LL.B. from Stanford in 1962 and worked at UC Davis from 1971 until his retirement in 2003.  He is a member of the American Law Institute and has received multiple awards in Legal Writing.

[5] Elie Doglin is a neuroscientist and science writer in Somerville, Massachusetts .

[6] In researching federal tax laws that apply to every citizens who works in this country, I came across some alarming statistics: The current tax code is 74, 608 pages and is 187 times longer than it was just a century ago, with most of that growth occurring in the past 30 years.  It grew 3,000 pages between 2010 and 2014, with the passage of Obamacare.   If this current rate of growth continues, it is predicted that the tax code will reach 100,000 pages by 2050 (Russell).

[7] Lynn Ludlow is a journalist and lecturer based in San Francisco, California.

[8] An easy modus ponens argument to follow! It can be done!

Woman Misunderstood: Aspasia as Teacher and Mistress

Aspasia of Miletus has been momentously influential for thousands of years.  An important example of an ancient rhetor, Aspasia’s social life, her morals, and her ability to conform in a male-dominated society has been intensely studied and in some cases, harshly criticized.  For example, scholar Madeleine M. Henry commented on Aspasia’s life stating that, “to ask questions about Aspasia’s life is to ask questions about half of humanity.”  While there is clearly no doubt that Aspasia has been an influential figure for rhetoricians of both genders for centuries, what does her personal life have to do with it?  Some scholars have approached Aspasia as an immoral woman whose contributions should be dismissed or accredited to the male figures in her life because of her alleged ties with prostitution and brothels—making the argument that she was somehow unfit to have actually contributed to society because of her morals, or lack thereof.  Yet other scholars use this biographical information as a compliment, or in extreme cases, as the sole reason that Aspasia is remembered today.  Some argue that Aspasia’s overall lifelong contributions to rhetorical tradition and society in general, enhancing her power as a woman in a male-centered world, are the result of her being a courtesan.  This sexual position in society was the defining gateway that allowed Aspasia to be in the presence of influential males on a daily basis.  But what she did with this position of power is what is particularly interesting in our studies.  I will specifically be looking at what scholars have to say about Aspasia’s morals in the context of her rhetorical teachings alongside male figures like Pericles and Socrates.  I argue, that whether or not proper credit is given to Aspasia where due is largely based on the historiographical biased approach certain scholars have adopted in relation to her morals and sexual choices.  Furthermore, I aim to prove that despite the evidence of Aspasia’s “questionable” sexual practices, these in no way distract from her extraordinary ability to teach and perform intellectually alongside her male counterparts and companions.  We essentially remember Aspasia as a rhetor and secondly a courtesan; we do not remember her solely as the latter.

It seems that little is known historically about Aspasia’s early life and family; however, it is clearly evident that her family owned a considerable fortune.  Aspasia was excellently educated in the Greek city of Miletus before making her way to Athens as a young adult.  Once in Athens, controversy began to surround Aspasia’s life, and many believe that she became a hetaira and operated a brothel.  Historically, prostitution was legal in Athens as long as it was not conducted by an Athenian citizen, and Aspasia, being an outsider as well as a woman, was not considered a citizen in the eyes of ancient Grecian law (“Hetaira”).  These courtesans were often praised for their intellect and were always well-educated—a luxury the majority of Greek women never experienced.  These women were not the “lowly” prostitutes that worked on streets or operated out of brothels, but rather, distinctive women who carried some clout in their societies and were said to hold themselves to a higher standard in their sexual relations with companions rather than “customers.”  Aspasia was the lover and intellectual partner of Pericles and it is widely believed that they were never married.  Because of her choice not to marry, Aspasia enjoyed a reprieve from the responsibilities women took on when they entered into a union.  “As a free woman brought up in the transitional society of Asia Minor, Aspasia was freed from the rigidity of traditional marriage and from the identity that arose from that fixed role” (Glenn 182).  Aspasia was said to be beautiful by those who saw her and she reportedly captivated audiences with her incredible ability to speak articulately.  Because of the status of both parties, it is reported by ancients such as Plutarch that the home of Pericles and Aspasia became a gathering place for intellectuals to think, discuss, and compose—most notable of these being Socrates.  Aspasia was referenced by many of these visiting intellectuals, all male, in a slew of works.  As Cheryl Glenn notes in her essay, “the fact that Aspasia is even mentioned by her male contemporaries is remarkable” (182).  It is important to note that in the beginning of Glenn’s essay, she establishes her belief in the fact that Aspasia did in fact operate as a courtesan in Athens.  But this moral blip does not affect Glenn’s view of Aspasia negatively.  Inversely, it is this sexual social presence that gives Aspasia the power necessary to speak in the public sphere.  It is evident through Glenn’s writing that she regards Aspasia as a strong, free woman, specifically when she describes the way in which Aspasia “distinguish[ed] herself by her rhetorical accomplishments…and her public participation in political affairs” (183).

By reading Glenn, we begin to question the way in which a sexual double standard was apparent in the life of Aspasia.  For example, Pericles was thought to have made love to young boys, which in no way shocked ancient Greek society.  However, the fact that Pericles treated a woman as a person and allowed Aspasia to live with him instead of banishing her to some such gynaikeion, or women’s housing, greatly concerned Athenian society.  Glenn’s work credits Aspasia and her contributions to rhetoric as being “firmly situated and fully realized within the rhetorical tradition, [though] they have been directed through a powerful gendered lens” (186).  It is believed that Socrates “deeply respected Aspasia’s thinking and admired her rhetorical prowess, disregarding, it seems, her status as a woman and hetaera” (187).  Glenn brings to her readers’ attention the important fact that Aspasia was not condemned or looked down upon in any way for being a hetaera by her male companions, and this type of lifestyle was just as dismissible as being a woman.  But today, as readers of Glenn and similar scholars, why should we be okay with flippantly saying a woman’s gender is disregarded in order to study her intellectual and rhetorical impact?  Glenn goes on to say that Aspasia’s accomplishments and rhetorical influence are attributed to her partner Pericles instead, but the argument is that because of Aspasia’s female status, no one would even know the name Aspasia if she hadn’t have been involved in her society’s sexual sphere.  So according to Glenn, it is Aspasia’s ties to sexually immoral acts that allow us to enjoy her contributions today.  Are we supposed to feel comforted by the idea that Aspasia’s name survived because of her involvement in sexual society rather than intellectual society?  Ultimately Glenn’s piece argues that we remember Aspasia entirely because of her being a courtesan.  I argue that this is unfair to Aspasia and that the companionship she offered to men like Pericles in no way reflected her rhetorical abilities.  She may have used that lifestyle to be admitted to the public scene, but Aspasia was a gifted rhetorician and contributed her intellect and ideas completely separately from the sexual acts she involved herself in.

Aspasia’s rhetorical talent was so great that she impacted society in a variety of ways.        For example, scholar S. Sara Monoson discusses Aspasia in her work on Pericles.  She discusses the way in which “Menexenus immediately recognizes the teacher as Aspasia, Pericles’ mistress” (Monoson 492).  Monoson simply states that Aspasia is a mistress, which is a word loaded with its own connotations, but she does not stress Aspasia’s lack of morals and refrains from utilizing words like “prostitute,” contrary to Glenn’s piece.  This is important to note as she continues to make powerful claims about Aspasia in relation to Socrates, arguably her most influential connection.  In one context, “Socrates attributes authorship of the speech he recites in text to Aspasia” (492).  These claims are different from the claims Glenn makes in a multitude of ways.  Glenn places a significant amount of attention on Aspasia’s work as a courtesan in Athens and ultimately claims that although this helped her gain some notoriety in social settings, her work was still claimed by men.  In Monoson’s piece, however, we see little importance placed on Aspasia’s sexuality and a straightforward claim about Aspasia’s authorship in relation to a Socratic speech is boldly made.  In looking at Monoson’s work, I believe it is imperative to first address the importance she places on Aspasia’s ability to teach.  This piece of the puzzle is something Glenn does not make a point of in her particular work; however, the ability to teach is extremely important in trying to establish Aspasia’s credibility and her significant contribution to rhetoric.  Monoson references the “[speech] she had written for Pericles” in addition to Aspasia’s work for Socrates, and argues that “Socrates’ speech exhibits many more links with Pericles”, which insinuates that Aspasia was either the author for both men, or that she taught Socrates and significantly influenced his overall composition (492).

Furthering the idea of Aspasia’s extensive rhetorical influence, scholar Madeleine Henry reports in her work that “Pericles spoke with Aspasia’s tongue” (Henry 29).  Despite being a male intellectual, Henry argues that Pericles owed much of his success and articulateness to Aspasia, who greatly influenced his speech.  Henry also discusses how “Aspasia herself has made many of the nobles into speakers, and Pericles is but one of them.  Aspasia made speakers of many men” (35).  Here Henry begins to discuss Aspasia’s sexual life and alleged sexual acts, putting her somewhere in between Glenn’s outright naming of Aspasia as a prostitute and Monoson’s gloss over the issue.  After establishing Aspasia and allowing her readers to begin to grasp just how vast Aspasia’s contribution was to rhetoric and its tradition, Henry states that it was “delicately suggest[ed] that she had sexual relationships with the ‘others’ as well and that they all speak with words she taught them.  Aspasia and the speech she delivers unite the citizens of Athens across generations” and ultimately outweighs any sexual component of her legacy (35).

Throughout my research on Aspasia and ultimately her lasting rhetorical influence, I have found that the majority of scholars write with nothing but respect for her.  However, the way in which these scholars approach Aspasia’s contributions widely varies.  For example, Cheryl Glenn first points out Aspasia’s status as a courtesan before mentioning her importance as a rhetor, whereas Sara Monoson doesn’t really address Aspasia’s sexual life at all.  Madeleine Henry finds a middle ground and discusses both facets of Aspasia, but does so respectfully and only after establishing her rhetorical contributions first.  I argue that no matter how Aspasia’s sexual promiscuity is addressed, it in no way distracts us from the legacy and understanding of her lasting influence on the rhetorical tradition.  Aspasia’s social life, her morals, and her ability to conform in a male-dominated society has been intensely studied and in some cases, harshly criticized, but ultimately, the criticisms have failed to distract us from the importance of the contributions she’s made as one of history’s most notable rhetors.

Works Cited

Glenn, Cheryl. “Sex, Lies, and Manuscript: Refiguring Aspasia in the History of Rhetoric.” College Composition and Communication 45.2 (1994): 180-90. JSTOR. Web. 12 Oct. 2015.

Henry, Madeleine Mary. Prisoner of History: Aspasia of Miletus and Her Biographical Tradtion. New York: Oxford UP, (1995): 1-36. EBSCOhost. Web. 23 Oct. 2015.

“Hetaira.” Miscellaneous Essays. University of Chicago, n.d. Web. 14 Oct. 2015.

Monoson, S. Sara. “Remembering Pericles: The Political and Theoretical Import of Plato’s Menexenus.” Political Theory 26.4 (1998): 489-513. JSTOR. Web. 14 Oct. 2015.

Why We Shouldn’t Look Down on Those Who Speak “Up”

Few things in the life of an adolescent are static.  Teenagers are often busy with school, extracurricular activities, and the all-important social life.  However, one thing that seems to be rather common in English-speaking teens, particularly females, these days is the use of certain linguistic characteristics that identify them to a larger social group.  The use of “high rising terminal,” more commonly known as uptalk, is becoming more and more common in our young people, according to non-linguistic observers.  This type of linguistic identity is often frowned upon by those who believe in nothing but the “standard” in regards to English language usage.  Communities of other adolescents and young women are accepting of this linguistic feature, and often easily identify with others who utilize it.  However, in contrast, larger communities, consisting of older adults and those who dare not stray from Standard English, believe that there is something about this behavior that marks the speaker as improper, uneducated or “less confident” (which apparently can end up costing the speaker that promotion).[1]  Uptalk fundamentally challenges the linguistic values of traditional English speech and the “Book English” spoken in formal educational institutions.  Are these reactions unjustly harming criticized speakers, or is society correct in the belief that uptalk is useless and a marker of improper language usage?

The origins of modern uptalk are not widely-known, but there seems to be a general consensus that the feature began on the West Coast.  The “Valley Girl” speakers from Southern California are where observers see a modern widespread usage of the linguistic feature begin.  Mark Liberman, a linguistics professor at the University of Pennsylvania states that ‘“the short answer is no-one knows”’ the origins of the feature (“The Unstoppable March of the Upward Inflection?”)  However, the British Broadcasting Corporation has conducted more extensive research on the phenomenon’s antiquated roots.  Liberman and other linguists have developed the hypothesis that uptalk may have origins dating as far back as the 9^th century.  This hypothesis is backed by citations from Henry Sweet’s A Handbook of Phonetics from the 1870s, “in which the author writes that ‘in Scotch the rising tone is often employed monotonously, not only in questions but also in answers and statements of facts”’ (“The Unstoppable March of the Upward Inflection?” ).  Although the widespread usage is fairly recent in a linguistic sense, it seems to be here to stay for the time being.

Quickly spreading among speakers of American English, uptalk is now being adopted by speakers of Australian English and British English as well. In the United Kingdom, many people are now “going so far as to dub [uptalk] the Australian Question Intonation, [and] some laymen go even further and trace the shift in British speech patterns to the arrival of soap opera on British TV in 1986” (“The Unstoppable March of the Upward Inflection?”).  Although the origins of uptalk are still debated, it is widely believed that different social groups (i.e. younger generations, female speakers, etc.) are more likely to utilize certain stylistic variations such as uptalk (Meyerhoff 58).  The question then becomes, why?

Speakers that employ the use of uptalk in their speech do so as a way to invite others into the conversation—the belief that a question is more inviting than a declarative statement.  Blogger Jennifer Dziura has an entire blog on the subject—with a section specifically dedicated to the “many uses of uptalk.”  Dziura states that the use of uptalk in declarative statements is important “for the purpose of confirming that [the speaker] is being understood” by his/her audience (Dziura).  Put another way, using uptalk is like asking questions for understanding such as, “correct?”, “does this make sense?”, etc. without actually having to do so.  She goes on to quote research that highlights another unique ability of uptalk, in an important strategic move called ‘floor-holding,’ defined as the situation in which “the speaker, anticipating an interruption by the listener, tries to stave it off by using a rising tone at the end of a statement.”  This is believed to be a politer way to let the audience know that you are not finished speaking without having to explicitly state it.  It can be seen here that there are some useful aspects of uptalk, and those who have adopted the linguistic behavior believe in the important social contexts it has.  Speakers may employ uptalk in a variety of environments, molding it to his/her needs in a particular conversational situation.

However, the larger community of Standard English speakers, including older adults, and those who hold on to the believed “standard” way of speech, do not see the benefits of uptalk’s usage.  As Penelope Eckert states in her piece on adolescent language, “adolescents have a special place in American ideology, and it stands to reason that their language would be the object of ideological construction as well” (Eckert 1).  Critics of uptalk believe that speakers who utilize uptalk risk the American ideology and the English identity.  Self-proclaimed “correct” speaker of English, Bernard Marr[2], states in his work that uptalk “makes a person sound less sure, tentative, and weak” and that’s a “clear indicator of a person’s insecurity and emotional weakness” (Marr).  He goes on to “cite” a study that finds 70% of people call uptalk a “particularly annoying trait.”  He argues that uptalk puts users at a disadvantage simply because it’s not the way that everyone who uses English speaks.  This argument is rather unconvincing, but does say something about the general fear of the new or unknown and the stigma such novelties generates.

As we have discussed in class, and read from numerous authors, the language of teenagers and young people is often criticized and stigmatized.  Uptalk is among those linguistic features that are spreading through the younger speakers of English, and even seeping into adult’s speech, as is noticed particularly in the corporate world.  There is no doubt that uptalk is an undesirable speech feature in society today, but whether or not that view will continue to hold remains to be seen.  Uptalk serves a multitude of purposes in the larger social context of English-speaking groups, and just because it is different does not mean it is wrong.  Sharyn Collins, a professional voice coach and elocutionist states that when a student comes to her for elocution she attempts to eliminate uptalk, but notes that ‘“English is evolving and this is something I may just have to accept at some point”’ (“The Unstoppable March of the Upward Inflection?” ).

Works Cited

Dziura, Jennifer. “Hey Ladies—Here’s How to Ignore All the Critics and Use Upspeak to Your Advantage.” Web log post. Themuse. Daily Muse, Inc., Oct. 2015. Web. 4 Nov. 2015.

Eckert, Penelope. “Adolescent Language.” Stanford, n.d. Web. 3 Nov. 2015.

<http://web.stanford.edu/~eckert/PDF/adolescentlanguage.pdf&gt;.

Marr, Bernard. “Want A Promotion? Then Don’t Upspeak!” Linkedin. Linkedin, Inc., 20 Jan. 2014. Web. 4 Nov. 2015.

Meyerhoff, Miriam. Introducing Sociolinguistics. 2nd ed. London: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2011. Print.

“The Unstoppable March of the Upward Inflection?” BBC News. BBC, 11 Aug. 2014. Web. 15 Nov. 2015.

[1] I came across an interesting article/video from a LinkedIn post that talks about why uptalk can cost someone her job. <http://www.executivestyle.com.au/why-uptalk-could-cost-you-a-promotion-34jue&gt;.

[2] According to his LinkedIn profile, Bernard Marr is a best-selling author, keynote speaker, and leading business and data expert.  He is currently the Chief Executive at Advanced Performance Institute in Milton Keynes, United Kingdom.  He has been recommended by LinkedIn as an “InFluencer” and publishes regular articles on various management and business topics on LinkedIn.

The Infamous Split Infinitive and the Controversial Choice of Whether or Not to Intentionally Split One

The Queen’s English: Stray Notes on Speaking and Spelling was published in the late 19^th century by Henry Alford, Dean of Canterbury.  In addition to his theory on infinitives and why English users shouldn’t split them, his book boasts such headings as “Talking nonsense to children”, “Deterioration of the language itself”, and “Cases not understood”.  Despite his misunderstanding of traditional capitalization rules, this man has been credited with originally stating that speakers and writers of English are most certainly not allowed to carelessly split an infinitive.  Alford based his understanding of grammar on traditional Latin rules and states in his work that English users were not familiar with utilizing the construction of a split infinitive, so as future writers and speakers, we should avoid the anomaly completely.  “But surely this is a practice entirely unknown to English speakers and writers,” Alford states.  “There seems no good reason for flying in the face of common usage” (171).  According to Alford, unfamiliarity insinuated a dismissible mistake.

Infinitives themselves have an interesting history.  In Old English, the infinitive was a single word that ended in –n or –an.  This eventually evolved into Middle English’s infinitive that ended in –n or –en.  These archaic endings eventually dropped off, leaving just the verb stem.  Today’s Modern English regards infinitives as two words—the verb itself with “to” preceding the action word immediately.  There is still some debate today about what an infinitive actually consists of.  For example, there are many who believe that “to” is not really part of an infinitive at all and argue that this means there isn’t anything to split in the first place.  Danish linguist Otto Jespersen said this of infinitives sometime in the late 19^th to early 20^th century, ‘“To’ is no more an essential part of an infinitive than the definite article is an essential part of a nominative, and no one would think of calling ‘the good man’ a split nominative.” However, despite the disagreement of what constitutes an infinitive itself, the first record of a split infinitive occurs in writing from the 13^th century.  According to scholars who have analyzed the work, this Middle English narrative is said to have used the split or “cleft” infinitive strictly for the purpose of flow and rhythm.  Today, we use the split infinitive similarly—usually to enhance the flow of our writing for our readers or to stress a specific point in oral discourse.  For example, I might write that to understand English prescriptive grammar rules, we must go back and look at traditional Latin grammar.  But I might want to emphasize understanding—to fully understand, to really understand, to completely understand, etc.

We’ve come quite a way from the 19^th century fear of the split infinitive.  The construction is now widely accepted in written and spoken English discourse and many grammarians regard the rule as archaic.  However, there are still those that choose to unrelentingly hold onto the rule.  Many middle and high school teachers in the American education system still teach their students to avoid the split infinitive.  In my experience in Texas public schools, I was always told to avoid the cleft infinitive in my writing, but was never given a substantial reason as to why it was wrong—it was just something that “sophisticated” teenage writers didn’t do.  I was always told that “no split infinitives” was the rule someone had decided on centuries ago.  However, in my first writing class in college, I was told that everything my previous English teachers had told me was incorrect and that there wasn’t anything wrong with using some of the typical writing “taboos.”   This being the case, it seems that there is still some debate in the high school grammar community surrounding this rule and its usage; however, it seems like the majority of the academics I come into contact with now generally believe the no split infinitive rule is outdated and perfectly okay to break.  So why are the majority of middle and high school English teachers still teaching this archaic rule to their grammar students?  While I don’t have a definitive answer, I theorize that it stems from an attitude much like Alford’s.  The rule has been taught for so many centuries that it has become familiar, and there’s comfort in that.  Teachers urge students to stick to this “norm” because that’s what one man stated of English grammar hundreds of years ago.  I’m not sure whether it’s more linguistic or psychological in nature, but something is surely telling today’s educators that the “basics” of English grammar are unwavering and leave no room for contemporary interpretation. This is an unfortunate attitude and sets students up for a lifetime of grammatical confusion.

According to The Chicago Manual of Style, “it is now widely acknowledged that adverbs sometimes justifiably separate infinitive’s to from its principal verb.”  This not only justifies the cleft infinitive, but also asserts that the infinitive does in fact consist of “to”.  “When an adverb qualifies a verb phrase, the natural place for the adverb is between the auxiliary verb and the principal verb.  There is no rule against adverbial modifiers between the parts of a verb phrase.  In fact, it’s typically preferable to put them there.”  Furthermore, The American Heritage Book of English Usage says that “people have been splitting infinitives since the 14^th century, and some of the most noteworthy splitters include John Donne, Samuel Pepys, Daniel Defoe, Benjamin Franklin, Samuel Johnson, William Wordsworth, Abraham Lincoln, George Eliot, Henry James and Willa Cather.  The only rationale for condemning the construction is based on a false analogy with Latin.  The thinking lies in the fact that the Latin infinitive is a single word, so the English infinitive should be treated as if it were a single unit.  But English is not Latin… (34-35).

Repeat after me: English is not Latin, English is not Latin, English is not Latin.  This is what we need to be teaching our future writers, speakers, linguists, and grammarians.  The rule prohibiting split infinitives is an outdated thing of the past that was never rooted in English grammar in the first place.  Despite centuries of controversy, today’s foremost authorities on English usage and written and spoken discourse, all draw the same conclusion: there is nothing wrong with making the choice to confidently split an infinitive.

Works Cited

Alford, Henry. The Queen’s English: Stray Notes on Speaking and Spelling. Cambridge: Deighton, Bell, 1864. Google Books. Web. 28 Sept. 2015.

Fogarty, Mignon. “Split Infinitives.” Quick and Dirty Tips. Macmillan Holdings, LLC., 2015. Web. 30 Sept. 2015

Garner, Bryan A. “5.106 Split Infinitive.” The Chicago Manual of Style Online. 16th ed. Chicago: U of Chicago, 2010. N. pag. Print.

Garner, Bryan A. “5.168 Adverb Within A Verb Phrase.” The Chicago Manual of Style Online. 16th ed. Chicago: U of Chicago, 2010. N. pag. Print.

“Split Infinitive.” The American Heritage Book of English Usage. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Compacy, 1996. 34-35. Print.

Family and National Structures in the Fiction of George Eliot

George Eliot’s novels, The Mill on the Floss and Felix Holt: The Radical, construct relationships between families and nations; however, the relationships between the “family” and “national” structures vary from one another to the other.  The Mill on the Floss primarily concerns itself with familial relationships.  These include relationships between siblings, parents and children, and the matriarchy-dominated extended family.  Some reference to the national structure by way of economics does occur in the novel; however, even these dealings relate back to the family.  Contrastingly, Felix Holt centers itself around the national structure of people to their city, state, and nation.  The familial relationships that appear in the texts present themselves as strained and often utterly broken, while the novel’s politics act as a form of social intercourse, central to the work’s theme.

The Mill on the Floss imagines the relationship between family members in a number of different ways, with the central relationship between siblings Maggie and Tom.  The first book entitled, “Boy and Girl,” foreshadows the importance of the relationship of primary importance in the story.  Maggie looks to her older brother Tom for guidance, support, and love.  Eliot describes the siblings’ relationship for the reader as “still very much like young animals, and so [Maggie] could rub her cheek against [Tom’s], and kiss his ear in a random, sobbing way; and there were tender fibres in the lad that had been used to answer to Maggie’s fondling… he actually began to kiss her in return” (39).  The nature of the siblings’ relationship appears eroticized in its many descriptions, with Maggie looking to Tom for a sort of unconditional love one might expect to find in a significant other.  As a young child, Maggie does not understand where her physical and emotional relationship with Tom ends.  Eliot utilizes this sexualized relationship of Maggie and Tom as a way of navigating her characters through this important familial life lesson.

As the story progresses, Maggie and Tom experience the usual sibling fights one would expect to see in a relationship consisting of young children.  However, despite their differences, Tom’s mistreatment of Maggie, and his eventual condemnation of her when she runs away with her cousin, Lucy’s fiancé, Eliot ends the story of the two on a touching note that further imagines the novel’s familial nature.  When the flood takes both Tom and Maggie down into the current, Eliot describes the tender, and somewhat sexualized, way in which the two die in one another’s arms by stating, “…brother and sister had gone down in an embrace never to be parted: living through again… the days when they had clasped their little hands in love, and roamed the daisied fields together” (521).  Tom and Maggie’s relationship ultimately ends on a positive and loving note, stressing the importance of the family relationship no matter the situation.

Also extensively explored throughout the novel, the relationship that exists between the parent and child.  Eliot describes the relationship between Maggie and her father as a very positive and loving one.  Maggie, as the only girl and the younger of the two children, holds a special place in her father’s heart, and this relationship becomes apparent to the reader early in the novel.  “Maggie jumped from her stool… and going up between her father’s knees… the father laughed with a certain tenderness in his hard-lined face, and patted his little girl on the back, and then held her hands and kept her between his knees” (17).  The tenderness of Maggie’s father’s actions suggests the affectionate and adoring relationship held by the two.

Eliot investigates and elaborates on the relationships of, and between, extended family members in the text as well.  Although, Eliot presents the relations of extended family as relationships in which one must bear.  Eliot humorously states that, “Poor relations are undeniably irritating—their existence is so entirely uncalled for on our part, and they are almost always very faulty people” (83).  The extended family of the Tullivers, the Dodson Clan, portrayed as rarely having nice things to say about, or to, their family members.  Whether the aunts engage themselves in commenting on Tom and Maggie’s poor behavior, or the snarky condemnation of certain members of family when borrowing money, the extended family relationships do not necessarily appear enjoyable ones, but they exist and hold a special importance nonetheless, proving that one can love their family without necessarily liking them.

The national aspect of The Mill on the Floss becomes constructed through the economic implications presented throughout the novel.  The mill, of course, acts as a revenue-generating enterprise, even if that revenue stays within the family.  The lending and borrowing of money, and the talk of debt that plagues, and ultimately ruins, the Tulliver family furthers this economic theme.  Tom’s decision to leave school in order to enter the workforce to regain his family’s financial stability also aids in the creation of the national structure present in the novel by suggesting the materializing middle-class.  The need Tom feels to save his family and reestablish their social standing in the town lends itself to the national structure and sense of identity the family contributes to their hometown.  Despite the presence of these subtle national structures, the overarching structure resorts back to that of the family.

Felix Holt: The Radical acts as the thematic opposite of The Mill on the Floss in terms of concerning itself with the political and national structure instead of that of the family.  The setting of the novel, in a fictional English town, creates a world in which many commonalities become characteristic of the entire nation.  The mere title and time period in which Eliot authors the text greatly aid in the contribution to making the novel one of national structure.  The novel’s setting during the early 1830s, in the time of the Reform Act, adds to the political implications of the text.  The “pleasant sleepiness” of Treby Magna makes it “quite a typical old market town” (45).  This town, characteristic of the emerging middle-class, furthers the new national interests sure to surface with the creation of this new group of people living in England.  The “radical” attitudes of characters like Felix, Harold, and the Reverend Lyon act as a commentary on this changing social structure—suggesting that new society warrants a new kind of attitude.  Eliot adds to the importance of one’s own nation by incorporating international excursions into both of her most influential characters’ lives.  Felix Holt and Harold Transome, who have just returned from Scotland and The Middle East respectively, expand on this element of national pride when returning from doing business in a foreign country.  The men’s return to their own nation and families illustrates the way in which the family is the most basic unit of society, and the outside world is a world of impersonal speculation.  Harold’s return functions as an especially interesting event in the way in which his mother receives him.  Mrs. Transome selfishly ponders the way in which the return of Harold will allow her to “no longer [be] tacitly pitied by her neighbours for her lack of money, her imbecile husband, her graceless eldest-born, and the lonliness of her life; but to have to have at her side a rich, clever, possibly a tender, son” (15).

Despite Harold’s somewhat heroic return, Felix Holt acts arguably as the most “nationalized” character in the novel, suggesting that the idea of the “nation” has significantly expanded.  Although he works hard, he is ultimately poverty-stricken.  Despite this fact, Felix is earnest and actually prefers his life of a working-class man over a wealthy, comfortable life, much like the one Harold Transome enjoys.

The familial relationships present in the novel function in a dramatically different way than those that occur in The Mill on the Floss.  Here, the family structure becomes so flawed that the family members do not rely on each other in a familial way.  Eliot opens the second chapter with the comment that, “Harold Transome did not choose to spend the whole evening with his mother… He volunteered no information about himself and his past life at Smyrna, but answered pleasantly enough, though briefly” (32).

Eliot again explores the parent/child relationship in this novel, but does so in a way that creates a much more awkward representation of the Transome family unit, due in large part to Harold’s illegitimacy.  “Mrs Transome thought with some bitterness that Harold showed more feeling for her feeble husband who had never cared in the least about him, than for her,” which acts as the polar opposite of the strong parent/child relationships she explored in the previous work (32).

The Mill on the Floss and Felix Holt: The Radical imagine two very different structures.  The Mill on the Floss stresses the importance of having a relationship with one’s family members, while Felix Holt stresses the importance of having a relationship with one’s city, country, nation, and the politics associated with these relationships.  Both novels’ structures benefit their respective characters and societies in a unique way.  The familial relationships in Eliot’s work tend to come across as mutually beneficial, while despite the work Felix does in politics, he still suffers and must overcome personal and legal hardships.  Eliot hides her morals for her readers in real-life-type scenarios that create these structures.

Works Cited

Eliot, George. Felix Holt: The Radical. Penguin Classics ed. Middlesex: Clays, 1995. Print.

Eliot, George.  The Mill on the Floss. Oxford University Press ed. New York: Oxford UP, 2008. Print.

Defoe: Making Criminals Attractive Since 1722

As defined by the OED, crime consists of the intertwining of sin, injury, and specifically poor and weak morals and character—or rather, a complete lack thereof.  The OED delineates a crime as “an evil or injurious act; an offence, a sin; esp. of a grave character” (“crime, n.”).  In his preface to the text, Daniel Defoe presents his story as one in which, “All possible Care however has been taken to give no leud Ideas, no immodest Turns… what is left ‘tis hop’d will not offend the chastest Reader… the Moral ‘tis hop’d will keep the Reader serious” (Defoe 4).  Despite Defoe’s insistence that Moll Flanders tells a story laced with moral lessons and positive intentions, the misfortunes of Moll outweigh the fortunes, and the connotation surrounding crime in the novel leave little to learn from.  An appealing story because of its taboo content, Moll Flanders does more harm than good to its readers.  The prevalent occurrence of crime, in which the word itself appears 24 times throughout the novel, fails to provide a sense of moral redemption because Moll is rarely punished, frequently recommits, and acts with a nonchalant attitude toward each act.

Moll’s narrative introduces crime in the opening scene both implicitly and explicitly.  Moll references the local jail as having record of her real name, implicitly foreshadowing the life of crime to follow her throughout the narrative.  Moll explicitly uses the word “crime” as evidence as to why the knowledge of her true identity must stayed concealed, stating that “it would not be proper, [to know her true identity], even without Exceptions and reserve of Persons or Crimes” (9).

Moll tells of the sexual crimes she begins to commit as a young girl. Moll’s sexual rendezvous with a boy she lives with proves scandalous and she describes their encounters as “frequent opportunities to repeat our crime… [full] of our wicked pleasure for nearly half a year” (26).  This sexual promiscuity constitutes the first criminal act introduced by the author.  Defoe illustrates Moll, a repeat offender, as to her satisfaction, never getting pregnant despite her careless and risky behavior.  The lack of consequence for Moll’s crime enforces the claim that Defoe does not hold his character accountable, which does nothing to teach readers a moral lesson.

Moll’s believed mother-in-law tells of her own felonious ways and describes the “Crimes punishable with Death” she has bared witness to throughout her time in jail (70).  After finding out the true identity of her mother-in-law and husband, Moll relays the crimes of incest she commits after knowing that she has accidentally married her own brother.  Despite knowing this truth, Moll talks of having “lived in opened avowed incest and whoredom” while she continues to sin and commit sexual crimes (73).

Moll eventually takes on a life of more traditional crime, crimes not sexual in nature.  Thievery is her vice.  After robbing small children, thieving during a fire, dressing as a man to steal, and blatantly stealing a large horse for which she has no use for other than the sheer enjoyment committing crimes brings her, Moll states that “when once we are hardened in crime, no fear can affect us” (174).  Defoe again falls short of instilling any moral message in his readers—crime leads to fearlessness.  With crime on the rise in 18^th-century London, this lack of fear presents itself as an appealing trait, and a necessary survival skill for one to possess.

Moll describes the newfound bravery the criminal life as awarded her, as well as the considerable riches she continues to accumulate through theft.  Moll begins do describe herself as wicked as she “cast off all Remorse and Repentance… to have one Booty more that might compleat [her] Desires” (163).  The religious connotation of repentance lends itself to the OED’s religiously sinful nature in its definition of crime, while the lack of remorse constitutes Moll’s grave character.

As the story draws to an end, and Moll later returns to London, she describes “being hardened by a long race of crime, and success” (211).  By equating the sinful, criminal life to that of a successful life, Defoe presents the unmoral acts the reader sees as worthwhile in some way.  Moll states that she did not feel remorseful for the crimes committed throughout her lifetime, and the payoff consisted of a reward nice enough to make up for the brief time in The Old Bailey.

As outlined by the OED, crime shares a relationship with sin, injury, and the complete lack of moral consciousness.  Defoe’s countless depictions of Moll engaging in sexual crimes, including incest, and more traditional crimes like thievery, portray her sinful nature and sociopathic tendencies.  Despite her hardships, Moll lives a full life, complete with countless adventure and riches.  Defoe’s exploration of crime from religious and characterless perspectives makes it prevalent in the novel because of its constant reward while becoming progressively serious in nature.

Works Cited

“crime, n.” Def.1b. OED Online. Oxford University Press, September 2014. Web. 1 November 2014.

Defoe, Daniel. Moll Flanders. Norton Critical ed. New York: W. W. Norton, 2004. Print.

Differentiation of Regret and Absolution in George Eliot’s Fiction

The fundamental difference between the ideas of repentance and redemption lies in whether or not the forgiveness that is sought is actually granted to the seeker.  Repentance consists of one feeling bad for his/her sin and longing for forgiveness, whereas redemption consists of the same longing as well as actually attaining this forgiveness.  Arguably, the difference lies in the distinction between simple forgiveness and a state of reconciliation with God that comes after the pardon.  The distinctions between these two key ideas are illustrated in George Eliot’s Scenes of Clerical Life and in her novel, Adam Bede.

“Janet’s Repentance” in Scenes of Clerical Life deals exclusively with the idea of repentance, as the name suggests.  Throughout the story, we see Janet’s character become increasingly remorseful and disturbed by the actions she commits and the strife that befalls her.  At its most basic definition, repentance consists of feeling compunction and as sense of shame in the transgressions one commits.  Multiple instances in “Janet’s Repentance” allow us to see Janet experience these deeply emotional states.  For example, at the beginning of chapter fifteen, the narrator describes Janet’s changing state of mind as she “shuts the door on her past life,” which consists of domestic abuse and alcoholism (246). The narrator utilizes the memories from childhood to womanhood to create the scene of the “present desolation” that we see Janet experiencing (246).  Janet begins coming to terms with these painful memories, sins, and wrongdoings, and allows herself to change her attitude. Just a short time later, Janet states that she wishes to ask for pity and she talks to God.  By chapter eighteen, the narrator exposes a conversation between Janet and Mr. Tryan.  Here, we see Janet’s longing to tell how unhappy her current situation in life makes her, “how weak and wicked… [with] no strength to live or die” (256).  As her story progresses, Janet explicitly states that she wants to confess her deeds, in their entirety, to Mr. Tryan and “gather hope again” (288).  Note that Janet wishes to confess to a mortal being.  Despite her multiple instances of self-pity and sorrow, Janet never explicitly asks God for forgiveness.  Janet feels that “if she could see Mr. Tryan, if she could confess all to him,” she may begin to repent and change her current situation (288).   However her desire to confess her wrongdoings to Mr. Tryan.  She states that she must go to him and see him—not the Him she should seek if the ultimate goal consists of redemption.  Janet simply alludes to this desire without taking the final, and arguably the most important, step toward actual redemption.  Although Eliot gives us the sense of Janet’s longing for forgiveness, it ultimately neglects the important aspect of actual pardon and entering into a state of absolute resolve.  The last paragraph of Janet’s text shows the “rescue from self-despair,” and the “strength of divine hopes”—hope acting as the operative word in this example (301).

Undoubtedly, we see the numerous instances of repentance in Adam Bede as well.  For example, the narrator describes death as part of the way in which humans reconcile and goes on to say, “[it’s] never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity” (49).  Nevertheless, Eliot advances the repentant characters’ actions one step further.  A prime example of this appears in the interactions between Dinah and Hetty after Hetty’s downfall.  Dinah suggests to Hetty that she should embrace her past mistakes and confess these to God, which directly contrasts to the mortal and corporeal confession Janet ultimately makes in her own story.  Both women confess through humans, but Hetty acts with explicit intention to talk to the Divine about her transgressions.  We do not get the same sense of this intent in Janet’s story of her desire to confess to Mr. Tryan.  Ultimately, these actions alone may leave Hetty in a state of repentance, mirroring Janet’s situation.  However, Dinah continues to urge Hetty to act further.  Dinah’s encouragement for Hetty to “confess the wickedness” she has done and the “sin [she] has been guilty of…” leads to her to a state of perceived absolution (403).  In this pivotal scene, Eliot tells her readers that “Hetty obeyed Dinah’s movement, and sank on her knees” and truly asked for God’s forgiveness for her transgressions.  These actions determine the fundamental difference among Eliot’s works and the ideas of repentance and redemption.

The distinction lies in the how far each character takes her actions.  Both women encompass a sense of remorse and feel guilt for their sins.  However, Hetty goes beyond and acts on her repentance, which suggests a redeeming quality.  Hetty, who asks if “God will take away” her suffering now that she has confessed her transgressions, prays while Janet simply confesses her sin.  ‘ “Let us pray, poor sinner: let us fall on our knees again, and pray to the God of all mercy” ’ (408).

The difference between repentance and redemption is indicative of era in which Eliot’s primary audience experienced her writing.  Eliot’s religious upbringing and her eventual severance from her Evangelical Christian views give middle-class churchgoers a sense of doubt in their own beliefs.  As a Victorian intellectual, Eliot strived to make her readers contemplate and question.  Going back to texts we have read earlier in the semester, specifically those of Feuerbach, Emerson and Carlyle, we see that Eliot undoubtedly believed in modifying views to a naturalistic philosophy and secular humanism.  Eliot’s fiction may have functioned as a way to bring her progressive views to traditional people in conventional societies that still clung to these long-established Christian ideals held by traditional churchgoers.  I believe Eliot used these stories and novels as a way to demonstrate to a rural society how their religious transformation could, and arguably should, occur.  In the texts we have read so far we see that Eliot never lost her belief in the fundamental divine ideas and the essence of Christian beliefs.  However, she merely stopped believing in one divine and omnipresent being and began believing in Feuerbach’s idea that each human creates his/her own divinity based on suffering and personal attributes.

Eliot’s religiously themed works aim to illustrate that just because one lives a troubled life without the presence of a typical Christian God, he/she cannot repent his/her transgressions.  Eliot worked to bring others to her own light in the belief that morality does not necessarily have to entail this idea of immortality.

In Eliot’s work we see the fundamental differences between the ideas of repentance and redemption in “Janet’s Repentance” and Adam Bede.  The distinction lies in whether or not the sought forgiveness can ultimately become granted.  Janet’s repentance in her narrative in Scenes of Clerical Life consists of her regretful feelings toward her sin and longing for forgiveness, whereas Hetty’s redemption in Adam Bede consists of actually attaining this forgiveness that she sought.  Simply put, one becomes reconciled while one does not.  This distinction proves important because Eliot’s main goal consists of attempting to bring her non Victorian intellectual peers to her newfound version of “religious” light.

Works Cited

Eliot, George. Adam Bede.  New York: Oxford UP, 2008. Print.

Eliot, George. “Janet’s Repentance.” Scenes of Clerical Life. New York: Oxford UP, 2009.  169-301. Print.

It’s okay for a man to be a supercilious rake, but a woman must be a nun

Eliza Haywood’s female characters in Love in Excess cloak themselves in a veil of secrecy in an attempt to escape their feminine burden.  Multiple female characters take on a masculine persona due to the social restraints placed upon women who endeavored to act openly sexual in the 18^th century.  Haywood’s strategic use of correspondence between lovers, particularly the epistles that provide correspondence between Count D’elmont and his numerous female lovers, aid in the construction of anonymity, maleness, and create a gender-neutral relationship between characters.  This clandestineness overtly appears in Violetta’s cross-dressing scene.  The females use the concealment of their identity as a method of protection of feminine virtue and reputation.

The first billet to appear consists of correspondence between Count D’elmont and an unidentified female admirer.  The letter, which closes with a simple “farewell”, establishes the dangers of feminine sexuality and desire by undertaking the female writer’s usage of masculine pronouns.  This letter conveys a definite understanding of this stringent societal expectation on each female’s behalf.  Although written by a woman, the letter employs the particularly masculine language of war, making reference to enemies, attacks, and superior power.  The female author of the letter to D’elmont uses masculine pronouns to portray herself, stating that “he will appear” to D’elmont and she challenges him to “search therefore for him in her, in whom you would most desire to find him” (Haywood 39).  The utilization of masculine pronouns creates this veil of secrecy by portraying the female asexually, suggesting that the female writer feels less promiscuous, and by extension, less guilty, if she does not refer to herself as a woman.  Despite appearing as a “secret admirer” letter of sorts, the content does nothing to suggest the female gender of the lustful Alovisa.  In an anonymous second letter authored by Amena with D’elmont as the recipient, the sexual subject matter of Amena’s letter appears quite a bit more descriptive than Alovisa’s.  This occurs in the sense that Amena utilizes the explicit idea of passion, tender love, and forbidden acts.  However, Amena carefully avoids reference to herself in any way.  This letter, too, simply and anonymously ends, “farewel” (55).

In contrast to the females’ letters, an epistle authored by “the Dispairing D’elmont” allows him to immediately identify himself as the source of the passions he describes (132).  He makes no effort to conceal his masculine identity, and society does not require such a thing of him.  D’elmont enjoys the freedom of knowing that his reputation will not end in ruin because of his expression of love and desire for a woman.  D’elmont portrays a much more provocative tone with his own language than we see in the earlier epistles authored by the ladies.  For example, he expresses “vain coquet,” “fierce desires” and “ardent passion” (132).

Two other male-authored letters appearing in the novel reinforce this idea of masculine straightforwardness in regard to the expression of  love and sexual passion.  In a letter to “the Divine Melliora,” D’Sanguillier, another male author, discusses his passions for the woman and boldly and explicitly ends the letter with a valediction of “Your Lover,” requiring no speculation of the male’s feelings.  D’Sanguillier blatantly states that he loves the beautiful Melliora, that he languishes for her in “unceasing torments,” etc. (253).

In volume three, Violetta disguises herself as a man by dressing in men’s clothing and ironically renaming herself Fidelio.  She attempts to escape the fate of living as an impure woman in love with Count D’elmont by creating an alternate persona, one in which she may act freely and not steadfastly bind herself to societal restraints.  Violetta “forgoes her sexes pride, – the pomp of beauty, – gay dresses, and all the equipage of state, and gradeur, to follow in a mean disguise, a man unworthy of her thoughts” (264).  This scene enhances the androgynous state of feminine secrecy that the ladies feel it necessary to adopt to escape condemnation by society.  In the passage describing Violetta’s escapade as Fidelio, Haywood again employs the use of masculine pronouns when discussing a female character.  However, just before Violetta’s death, she reflects on the ways in which she will die with guilt despite her grand attempt to masculinize.  Fundamentally, Violetta will never truly escape the fact that she’s nothing more than a woman lusting grossly after a man.  No amount of masculine veil will succeed in disguising her and absolving her of her in the guilt of her sex.

Haywood’s use of correspondence between characters influences her novel and acts as a commentary on a societal issue.  The selected billets, especially those which provide correspondence between Count D’elmont and a female lover, reinforce the belief in this idea that women face an unfair double standard.  The suppression of sexual desire and/or erotic love before marriage becomes necessary for a woman to uphold a virtuous reputation and persona.  The women throughout the novel, portrayed as equally passionate lovers and beings, do so despite society’s taboo conventions; the difference lies in the way in which the female character may express herself, which often results in an androgynous state.  The interpretation of the larger novel engages with the concern of attitude toward moral differences between the genders.

The Ovid Façade—A Mammon Without Morals

Publius Ovidius Naso, known today to modern audiences simply as Ovid, was a poet whose work is essential to the modern study of Ancient texts.  Born on March 20, 43 BCE, Ovid’s life and education strongly influenced not only the way in which he wrote, but also the way in which his personality was molded—exhibiting a defiant, light-hearted attitude toward dark subject matter.  The tone Ovid creates in his works created controversy among his readers in Ancient Rome.  Similarly, readers today are still unsettled by the way in which Ovid addresses serious criminal acts in his art.  I intend to look at Ovid’s most popular ancient work, Metamorphoses, with a special focus on the way in which he regarded the issue of forced sexuality and rape.  The research presented here reflects the way in which Ovid’s early life, upbringing, education, relationships, and personality contribute to the flippant, jesting, and dismissive attitude Ovid possesses and portrays toward the pitiless and brutal subject of rape.  Specifically, the rape scenes that take place between the divine male and female characters in Metamorphoses are the main focus of my research.  In an effort to understand Ovid’s unsettling attitudes and unjust morals surrounding the subject, I have outlined a few significant scenes, and with the help of modern literary scholars, I prove that Ovid’s joking, almost playful, manner toward such a hideous act was directly influenced by the way in which Ovid was raised and educated.[1]

Much of the biographical information on Ovid utilized here comes from Arthur Wheeler[2].  Ovid, like many Roman men of letters, was a provincial.  He was born at Sulmona, described as being a “genuinely Ovidian periphrasis,” a small town approximately 90 miles east of Rome (Wheeler 2).  Ovid was born to an equestrian family that was well-established and considered quite respectable in the rural community.  His father was prosperous—something that ultimately ended up both helping and hurting Ovid as an artist.  Old family money allowed Ovid’s father to send both him and his elder brother to Rome to study rhetoric under those considered to be the best teachers of the time (Ursus).

Ovid’s formal teachers of rhetoric included Arellius Fuscus and Porcius Latro, who were “ranked among the four leading rhetoricians of the age” (Wheeler 8).  Ovid’s rhetorical study was described by Seneca the Elder, who specifically comments on the way in which Ovid’s hyperemotional disposition interfered with his studies.  Seneca’s testimony is believed to be regarded with the upmost respect because it “is that of an actual listener,” someone who undoubtedly was an integral part of Ovid’s early education (8).

As a young Roman man, Ovid never fulfilled any sort of Roman military force, which I believe greatly contributed to this overemotional state Seneca the Elder describes (Ursus).  The violent nature of battle was believed to have stripped men of the ability to be overemotional (Hopkins).  Ovid was not toughened up by the violence of battle and Roman warfare, thus, from the very beginning of his formal education, Ovid utilized his emotions in such a way that hindered both his involvement in the enjoyment of studying rhetoric, as well as the eventual practice of ruthless law and argumentation.  Here, we see the first example of Ovid’s personality differing from the expected norm of a young man of his status and heritage.  Ovid would continue to prove that he was one to push the boundaries.

After discussing Ovid’s early education, Wheeler discusses a great deal of information about Ovid’s interactions with other prominent Romans during this early formative period.  After a tumultuous first few years in formal rhetorical training, Ovid was involved with a well-to-do patron.[3]  This patronage was one of the only “traditional” acts of the time that he took part.  To compliment his continuing formal rhetorical training, he was under the patronage of Valerius Messalla Corvinus, a historian as well as a prominent orator.  “[Messalla Corvinius] had also been Consul, and served under Octavian at the battle of Actium,” and at the time he presided over a circle of poets.  Despite the military background Messalla Corvinius possessed, he influenced Ovid in a much different way.

It is said that “Ovid [ultimately] seems to have fallen under the spell of the literary atmosphere furnished by his patron” (Ursus).  Appearing in one of his autobiographical accounts, Ovid thoroughly describes the relationship he had with his patron Messalla Corvinus, as well as the patron’s two sons, Messalinus and Cotta Maximus.  Messalla Corvinus undeniably impacted Ovid’s attitude toward formal education and Roman conservatism.  In his autobiographical passage, Ovid states that Messalla Corvinus, given his affiliation with an Ancient Roman circle of poets, “was the first to give him courage” in following whatever artistic path Ovid chose to pursue (Wheeler 5-6).  Ultimately, Messalla Corvinus’s actions of inspiration would end up further pushing the already defiant Ovid toward creating controversy by disobeying traditional Roman educational structure and eventually abandoning what was considered to be an acceptable career.

Messalla Corvinus not only prompted Ovid to be involved in writing poetry, but he especially encouraged Ovid to share his art.  At this time, Ovid embraced his defiance by spending the majority of his time dabbling in the written, rather than the spoken, word, contrary to the popular wishes of his father.  However, despite the early push to share this gift of poetry by his patron, Ovid’s formal educators, Arellius Fuscus and Porcius Latro, still believed that he possessed whatever characteristics necessary to be a great orator and politician.  Both Ovid’s teachers and his father compelled Ovid to continue the study of rhetoric, with the undying hope that he would further his education ultimately ending with a great deal of knowledge of Ancient Roman law (Ursus).  For Ovid, the pressure of his family’s dream for him continued to mount as his older brother fulfilled familial wishes and social duty as a practicing lawyer.  Despite the encouragement to be a great rhetor, Ovid began to unequivocally neglect his studies[4] (Ursus).  It is said that he was often found “wasting” his time writing the poetic verses that he enjoyed and came so naturally to him.  Here we see an example of Ovid’s contravening, what was considered to be the norm for a young, well-to-do Roman man, proving that he was somewhat defiant in nature. Yet despite his love of poetry, familial obligation ultimately overcame Ovid as he completed the Grand Tour[5] of upper-class Roman young men.

Leanne Bablitz has published extensive work on Ovid’s obligatory, but ephemeral, political career pursued after the Grand Tour of Europe.  After his tour, despite being “pulled in one direction by a love for poetry and in the other by a hopeful father, Ovid took his first tentative steps up the political cursus honorum”[6] (Bablitz 33).  Ovid’s first post was in a sort of law enforcement position.  He later served as a president of the Centumviral court, where he is believed to have “held to the highest standards of fairness when he acted as a judge” (34).  Bablitz goes on to say that Ovid took on a theme of judgment and justice as a judge and member of the court.  His personality was described as extremely honorable and fair to those in which he presided over.  According to Bablitz’s research, “no other Roman is known to have served as both a centumvir and a unus iudex” during this period (35).  “But [ultimately] most equestrians, at least those who had any decent schooling and ambition, put their wealth, educational and social network toward a political or military career, and thus likely held an office that exempted them from service in the courts” (39).  Despite this auspicious start in the political sphere, what is ultimately demonstrated here is another example of Ovid’s inconsistency with Ancient Roman ideals and expectations.  This love of writing poetry was no secret and would eventually overcome him.

Although Ovid had much success in his political endeavors and multitude of elevated positions, this rigid career was nevertheless short-lived.  When Ovid’s father died, he completely abandoned rhetoric, law, and politics in pursuit of his passion for poetry (Ursus).  By breaking away from society’s expectations and his father’s wishes of a great law career Ovid labeled himself, perhaps somewhat unintentionally, as a radical.  The prevailing idea was that Ovid had no respect for the behaviors and expectations that were considered socially acceptable for the time[7] (Ursus).

More noteworthy research on Ovid’s career decisions and personal life comes from William Anderson.  As Ovid’s formal educational training and political successes came to a close, he was first married.  Ovid would end up being married three times and would greatly contribute to his ideals and views regarding romance, the theme of nearly all of his poetry.  Ovid documented his romantic affairs as being quite troubled which may have contributed to the unstable male/female relationships he most notably wrote about.  The only wife he spoke fondly of was the last.  Additionally, it was rumored that Ovid had some sort of affair with someone in Augustus’s family—either his daughter or granddaughter.[8]  This rumored adultery worked its way into much of Ovid’s work on romance, becoming a topic that ultimately created controversy among readers when later addressed in a rather blithe tone.

Anderson portrays Ovid as continuing to become less and less conservative in his Ancient Romantic views.  Meanwhile, the morals and ideals of the aristocracy were slowly changing, but not nearly fast enough to be consistent with those held by Ovid.  “This society characterized by much leisure and little austerity gave birth to a poetic tradition…It is thus not surprising that Ovid, poet of love, was particularly in favor,” and the task of meeting these new societal needs encouraged writers to give “free reign to their creative imagination.  A new literature was born, adapted to the new social and moral ideals of the aristocracy” (Anderson 62-63).  The created situation gave way to the perfect opportunity for Ovid to ultimately focus on his artful poetic work.

Thus, Ovid began the widespread publishing of his work.  Ovid’s first notable work, Ars Amatoria,[9] is an instructional series of poems that teaches the basics of male/female relationships.  On that note, it’s important to take notice of the role sex played in Ancient Rome.   Sexuality was commonplace but not openly discussed (“Household Sex”).  Homosexuality was prominent.  Recall, that the relationships between patrons and their young male subjects often had some sort of sexual component.  In spite of these common circumstances Ovid’s Ars Amatoria proposed a radically new sexual agenda, contributing to his proto-liberalism.  Ovid defended this controversial fascination with sex, specifically heterosexual in nature, by taking the stance that it was more enjoyable because pleasure was mutual between lovers and no one person was made to take on the shamed role.[10]  Ovid challenged the moral conservatism of the time, and particularly the emperor Augustus, by openly discussing heterosexual sex relations, relationships, adultery, etc. in his early poetry.  The Ars Amatoria was a handbook of sorts, teaching men and women the ways of courtship and what was necessary for successful relationships.  Aware of the taboo nature of an open sexuality, the tone of this poetry was carefree.  The way in which Ovid wrote on the topic was almost as problematic for his early readers as the subject matter itself.  Here we see Ovid’s tendency to push the boundaries of society and his fellow Romans.

Six years after completing and publishing Ars Armatoria, Ovid produced his most famous poetic work, Metamorphoses.  Metamorphoses would prove to provide more controversy still in regard to its sexually explicit themes. More than just sex, Metamorphoses brought to light the issue of forced sexual acts, rape and sexual assault.  The already uncomfortable subject matter became more uncomfortable and troubled ancient readers.  Although consensual heterosexual relationships do not bother modern readers, the topic of rape continues to be shrouded in stigmas, disgust and negative connotations. Rape, now a felony crime with a multitude of punishments, has unsettled all readers of all periods.  Ancient and modern readers alike have squirmed at the depictions of Ovid’s carefree rape scenes present in Metamorphoses.

First and foremost, the narrators of Metamorphoses contribute to the victimizing tone of the work.  “Most of Metamorphoses is narrated by a masculine authorial persona,” states one scholar who has published work on the way in which Ovid belittles women through the overpowering rape that is present throughout (Salzmann-Mitchell 150).  The authoritative male figures in Ovid’s early life, including his father, elder brother, and formal educators, pushed Ovid to study rhetoric—a topic that he was uninterested in pursuing as a career.  This same overbearing nature is seen in the male characters, especially those possessing immortal qualities, in the opening scene depicted in Metamorphoses. 

In the first book of the epic, Apollo mercilessly pursues Daphne.  Ovid depicts Daphne’s saddening pleas to her father to let her keep her virginity (Lombardo 1.506-509).  Regardless, Apollo pursues the moral and virtuous Daphne, disregarding her pleas for chastity.  Ovid uses the word “love” loosely in this story of the two.  Apollo claims that he “loves” Daphne, and yet all he wishes to do is take from her the thing she cherishes most of all (1.583-590).  Ovid’s depiction of the divine male figure outweighs the female’s plea.  But it is the constant appeal to “love”, the lie to get what the virile Apollo craves, that is so disturbing.  Apollo appeals to his familial ties and powerful status as justification for stripping Daphne of her virginity, implying that she will enjoy herself if she just gives into him.  The reasoning Ovid gives Apollo closely parallels the original argument Ovid made for male/female relationships in Ars Armatoria.  It is clear that Ovid firmly believed that rape was not nearly as devastating to the female as she made it out to be because she must have enjoyed herself.

Sarah Brown extensively discusses this prevailing idea that Ovid approached his sexual assault scenes with what she considers to be a sort of “narrative gloss on events” (48).  This suggests that Ovid believes that the female victims of his rape scenes “are tainted, or perceived to be tainted, by a suggestion of responsibility or secret pleasure” (49).  Brown’s theory allows modern readers to understand the intentional way in which Ovid depicts Apollo as not being guilty or blameworthy for the disgusting act he desires at Daphne’s expense.  The underlying implication here is that the brutal attack is Daphne’s own fault because she is a beautiful female (Brown).  After this horrifying experience, and somewhat “comically,” Daphne is turned into a tree to escape her attacker.  The diction and imagery used to portray this transformation is anything but serious.  The way in which Daphne’s body takes on the characteristics of a tree are used to lighten the already playful mood of the rape scene that is not really portrayed much like a rape at all.

Marjorie Garber discusses the influence of Ovid’s works, and more importantly, his attitude toward those works, has influenced scholars and readers, both Ancient and modern, specifically in the metamorphic art seen in these somewhat causal sexual assault scenes.  It is important to note that Daphne’s is the first notable transformation of a female victim, “Ovid has often been both a sign and an agent of shape-shifting in critical thought: metamorphic in himself and the cause of metamorphosis in others (Garber 133).[11]  Here, Ovid’s inappropriate and playfully frivolous attitude toward rape is seen to continue throughout the poetic work.

As was mentioned earlier, the depiction of the male role in Roman society greatly influenced this attempted rape on Daphne because of the commonality of the masculine persona and associated power.  Recall that Roman males were allowed to engage in sexual activities with either gender, of any age, as long as the elder male took on the penetrative role (“Household Sex”).  Being in this position allowed the elder male to continue to be respected in the aristocratic society, despite the fact today, modern citizens and readers are very disturbed by such perverse, nonconsensual relationships, regardless of age and/or gender.  Although what took place here was a crime, Ovid treated it merely as a benign act because the male still had his integrity.

After Daphne’s unfortunate run-in with Apollo, the rape of Io also appears in the first book of the epic.  Similar to Daphne in her depiction as a helpless female, Io attempts to outrun her attacker.  Io is severely punished for her bravery and attempt to save herself.  Ovid drolly depicts Io swiftly being turned into a heifer for not surrendering to the god’s sexual advances.  As the story continues, Ovid unsettlingly depicts Io the heifer attempting to mate with cows.  Here we begin to see Ovid’s dark sense of humor.  “It is difficult to avoid a touch of absurdity, if not downright comedy, when depicting the victims” in this rape scene (Brown 33).

In the second book, Ovid’s eroticism is once again depicted, this time through the rape of Callisto.  Jupiter is portrayed as saying that his wife will never find out about the small deception[12] he is about to take part in.  Ovid writes that the god was okay with betraying himself and his wife with a less than innocent act.

[Callisto] did struggle,

As much as a woman can—had you seen it…

But what man can a girl overcome, and who can overcome Jove?

The god returned to the sky, flush with victory.

The girl loathed the woodlands that knew her secret (Lombardo 2.484-490).

Here again we see an example of Ovid belittling the female character.  The all-powerful male once again dominates in the sexual relationship, ultimately taking whatever he wants and leaving the female to feel hatred and shame.  Ovid briefly mentions that Callisto attempted to fight back against her attacker, but in the two lines she is awarded, he lightheartedly glosses over her struggle.

Metamorphoses continues with scenes of rape and sexual assault, scholar A.W. Eaton brilliantly describes the way in which Ovid depicts the rape of Europa by Jupiter.  Even among modern-day readers.  This “…rape of Europa is highly praised” by Ovid and the art depicting this rape “has an overlooked dark side, namely that it eroticizes rape.  I argue that this is an ethical defect…” (Eaton 159).  I agree with Eaton’s previous comments and agree that this is an attempt to “celebrate rape” (159).  “When I say that [this] eroticizes rape, I mean not only that it depicts a willing victim for whom this rape is pleasurable, but also that it represents this internally conflicted even in a manner aimed to arouse the [reader’s] sexual desire” (165).

Perhaps the most vivid rape scene depicted in all of Metamorphoses is that of Philomela by Tereus, husband to Procne.  Despite the fact that he is married to Procne, Tereus lays eyes on Philomela and impulsively decides that he must have her.

Her beauty was reason enough, but with Tereus

His own libido and the passionate nature

Of men from his region were also factors.

Nature and race both caused him to burn [with desire]. Lombardo 6.524-527).

This quotation from the text depicts the female as being in the wrong because of her beauty.  Ovid once again places the majority of the blame on the female character and lightly glosses over the married male’s improper desires, a commentary on the powerful roles males held in Ancient Rome.  Philomela had this coming because she was beautiful, and why should Tereus be blamed?  As a man, his nature caused him to yearn after women this way.  The objectifying nature is portrayed as okay because that is just how men from this particular race and region act.  The entire scene is off-putting and incredibly disturbing.  Here Ovid takes a good deal of space to tell the reader how a man’s mind is considered to be “pitch-black” (6.541).  He refers to Tereus committing a crime[13] and being praised for his sin simply because he is a man (6.540-543).  Again, the supreme role of men in Ancient Roman society plays a large part in the shaping of this horribly improper, gender-biased belief system.  After the rape, Tereus roars that he has won, as he has captured poor Philomela.  “The captive has no chance / To escape, and the raptor sits eyeing his prey” (lines 596-597).[14]

However, the rape of Philomela itself is not enough for Ovid—he must tack on a significant amount of violence.  He takes this torture further by having Philomela’s tongue cut off to keep her from revealing what the male has done to her.  Keith Hopkins comments on the importance of such violence to Ancient Roman men in his essay entitled “Murderous Games.”  “Rome was a warrior state,” and he says, the violence Ovid depicts has always been a sensitive issue.  However, like the rape scenes, it is the way in which Ovid portrays this hideous violence that was, and still is, quite disturbing to his readers.  Hopkins notes that “in 42 BC, for the first time, gladiatorial fights were substituted for chariot-races in official games.”  At this time Ovid would have been just one year old, and it is clear that this is the type of “modern-day” society he would have ultimately have been brought up in.

In conclusion, I have yet to find any scholars that believe that Ovid was serious in his discussions and commentaries on the rapes present in his most notable work, Metamorphoses.  Additionally, each scholar I have referenced begins his/her respective essay with some sort of commentary on Ovid’s family, life, marriages, education, patronage, wealth, etc.  There is no doubt that Ovid was greatly influenced by the time period and society in which he wrote.  His education, by prominent, powerful male Romans, significantly influenced his attitudes toward violent rape and unsettling sexual assaults against most of the female characters depicted.

Although Ovid’s light-heartedness is consistent throughout, there are changes presented in the way in which the female character is transformed and what she is transformed into.  Barbara Stirrup discusses specific transformations that occur in the rape scenes.  “The essential difference between the stories depends on the application of metamorphosis,” she explicitly states (175).  For example, recall the comical transformation of Io into a heifer in an early book.  When Neptune rapes Caenis, she begs to be transformed into a man so that she can avoid the tragic experience of sexual assault happening to her once again.  Ovid depicts this plea as somewhat comical and insinuates that Caenis’s problems would cease to exist if she held the title of a man.

After examining a number of the specific scenes in which rape and sexual assault appear in Metamorphoses, I believe we should again revisit Leanne Bablitz’s statement about the fair and just way in which Ovid was described during his time spent as a judge.  After he had served on a law enforcement panel, the idea of Ovid depicting the heinous crimes in his poetry as not really being crimes at all is both noteworthy and thought-provoking.  From early in his life, Ovid displayed a certain rebellious attitude and consistently pushed the boundaries set for him by the society in which he was born into.  From the way in which Ovid first disobeyed his society and his father’s wishes by disregarding the political community, to the way in which he chose to follow his dreams of pursuing poetry and art and the radical new sexual agenda, Ovid consistently tested the boundaries that surrounded him.  Ultimately, Ovid’s education and upbringing contributed to the way in which he light-heartedly regarded dark subject matter, specifically rape, sexual assault, and the idea of adulterous relationships.  The theme of strong masculine, often overpowering, male figures stemmed from the multitude of important male figures in Ovid’s family, early life, and education.  The views in which Ancient Roman society held toward men ended up providing the greatest influence on Ovid’s poetic works, especially that of Metamorphoses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography

Anderson, William S. Ovid: The Classical Heritage. New York: Garland, 1995. Print.

Bablitz, Leanne. “Judging Ovid.” The Classical Journal 104.1 (2008): 33-42. JSTOR. Web. 30 Mar. 2014.

Binns, J. W. Ovid. Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973. Print.

Brown, Sarah A. Ovid: Myth and Metamorphosis. London: Bristol Classical, 2005. Print.

Eaton, A. W. “Where Ethics and Aesthetics Meet: Titian’s Rape of Europa.” Hypatia 18.4 (2003): 159-88. JSTOR. Web. 31 Mar. 2014.

Garber, Marjorie. “Ovid, Now and Then.” Critical Inquiry 40.1 (2013): 133-59. JSTOR. Web. 31 Mar. 2014.

Hopkins, Keith. “Murderous Games: Gladiatorial Contests in Ancient Rome. “History Today” 33.6 (1983). n. pag. HistoryToday. Web. 17 Apr. 2014.

“Household Sex.” The Illustrated History of the Roman Empire. Web. 1 May 2014. <http://www.roman-empire/society/soc-household.hmtl&gt;

Lombardo—See Ovid.

Ovid. The Essential Metamorphoses. Ed. Stanley Lombardo. Indianapolis: Hackett, 2011. Print.

Rand, Edward K. “Ovid And His Influence.” The Classical Review 40.6 (1926): 208-09. Web. 31 Mar. 2014.

Salzman-Mitchell, Patricia B. A Web of Fantasies. Columbus: Ohio State UP, 2005. Print.

Stirrup, Barbara E. “Techniques of Rape: Variety of Wit in Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses'” Greece & Rome 24.2 (1977): 170-84. JSTOR. Web. 30 Mar. 2014.

Ursus. “Ovid Part I: Life and Times.” UNRV History. UNRV, 2003. Web. 8 Apr. 2014.

Wheeler, Arthur L. “Topics From the Life of Ovid.” American Journal of Philology (1928): 1-28. L’Annee Philologique. Web. 30 Mar. 2014.

 

 

[1] Note that Ovid describes his own life and significant events in his autobiographical poem Tristia, which in English literally translates to “sorrows.”  The idea of sorrow is important to keep in mind as Ovid constructs views on the particularly disturbing crime of rape.

[2] Edward Rand also extensively discusses Ovid’s biography in his essay “Ovid and His Influence.”

[3] Ancient Roman patronage relationships often considered a sexual component, constituting an entirely different and more persuasive dynamic.  I have not found any research that confirms decisively whether or not Ovid was sexually involved with Messalla Corvinus, but given the extreme power the man held over Ovid’s thoughts and actions, it is entirely possible.

[4] After being set on this poetic path by his patron, Ovid so blatantly disregarded what was expected of him.  We can see that Ovid enjoyed pushing boundaries and testing those around him from the beginning.  This attitude proves to create a good deal of controversy when Ovid begins publishing his poetry.

[5] A trip through France and Italy that focused on art, culture, etc.  This was a privilege given only to young, wealthy male scholars of the time.

[6] In English, literally meaning “course of offices” that aspiring politicians were required to hold in sequential order in Ancient Rome.

[7] Moral conservatism falls into this category.

[8] The adulterous affair is thought to have led to Ovid’s eventual exile by the emperor Augustus.

[9] In English, “The Art of Love”.

[10] The male in a homosexual relationship that took the penetrative role was not judged.  However, the other male was often a slave, young boy, etc.  He was someone who was considered to be powerless or unimportant to the relationship, and often viewed as not being able to enjoy the experience.

[11] Fun fact: Marjorie Garber’s essay on Ovid has a section about various companies that have been named after him.  One software company CEO decided to change his company’s name to Ovid Software because he believed that his company had undergone a “metamorphosis”.

[12] By “small deception”, Ovid is referencing the huge issue of adultery.  Here we see how lightly Ovid played on this controversial issue.

[13] Or two—rape and adultery.

[14] It is important to note that Ovid uses 24 lines to describe 21 rapes in this very book of Metamorphoses.  The brutality of the attacks and the “comic” struggles are well represented in Book VI.