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Table of Contents

Introduction ...... 2

Chapter One

Tennyson’s Gender Politics ...... 8

Chapter Two

Deviating from the Angelic Norm ...... 17

Victorian Attitudes about Suicide and Elaine as Woman Artist ...... 22

Elaine’s Gaze: The Transgression of Feminine Sight ...... 32

Leaving the Private Sphere ...... 42

Conclusion ...... 48

Bibliography ...... 53

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Introduction

Ever since its publication in 1859, Tennyson’s Idylls of the King has garnered a myriad of responses, ranging from adoration to aversion. While dearly beloved to the Victorians, Idylls of the King has lost much of its popularity over the course of the 20th century. Today, Idylls of the

King is oftentimes labeled as pedantically adhering to the rigid social mores of the Victorian middle class, while simultaneously reestablishing patriarchal ideals and vilifying women’s sexuality. However, through this thesis, I would like to argue that although frequently accused of inflexibility, Idylls of the King still possesses space for challenging traditional patriarchal ideology. Moments of negotiation and subversion are most apparent through a close reading of

Tennyson’s “Lancelot and Elaine.”

Like modern day popular culture texts, Idylls of the King presents potentially contradictory ideologies in order to appeal to a diverse audience. As John Fiske states in

Understanding Popular Culture, “A text that is to be made into popular culture must, then, contain both the forces of domination and the opportunities to speak against them . . .” (25)

According to Stuart Hall’s essay Encoding/Decoding, “forces of domination” are the established hegemonic ideals of the contemporary time period. Without these, the work would lack the cultural significance and approval to even see the light of day. Nevertheless, to truly win popular appeal, the cultural text must also allow space for negotiation and subversion, for those who oppose the dominant ideologies.

On a similar note, Antonia Losano states that Victorian texts, especially due to the popularity of realism, operated as a means of social policing, an “effort at containment and ideological domination”. On the other hand, texts similarly have the power to employ moments of transgression to simultaneously critique the “social and ideological pressures that limited Chen 3

Victorian women’s lives” (240). Under the guise of convention, radical statements could be made.

Mary Poovey likewise states in Uneven Developments:

representations of gender constituted one of the sites on which ideological

systems were simultaneously constructed and contested; as such, the

representations of gender I discuss were themselves contested images, the sites at

which struggles for authority occurred, as well as the locus of assumptions used to

underwrite the very authority that authorized these struggles. (2)

Poovey very eloquently describes the tug and pull of ideological systems within texts, specifically when they deal with the topic of sexual difference. In other words, a single text can have qualities that both reinforce traditional values while simultaneously presenting opportunities for contradicting those ideals. Idylls of the King is such a text.

In chapter 1, I examine how critics have interpreted Tennyson’s gender politics in the past. Tennyson’s reputation as a man with traditional Victorian ideals has been gradually questioned since the late 1980s with the work of Marion Shaw. To follow up, critics in the 1990s and 2000s, such as Stephen Ahren and Arthur Simpson, also reinterpret Tennyson having a more nuanced position on women’s roles in society. Like my predecessors, I agree that Tennyson has painted a picture of how women struggle and negotiate a position within a male-dominated society. At the same time, it is difficult to disregard the problematic areas of Tennyson’s writing, which can be observed by examining Charlotte Bunch’s article “Not By Degrees: Feminist

Theory and Education.” While Tennyson, a 19th century Victorian man, cannot be expected to uphold all the guidelines for good feminist theory, Bunch’s article provides a basic guideline for evaluating Idylls of the King as a potential commentary on Victorian gender roles. For instance, Chen 4

Tennyson’s detailed descriptions provide numerous moments for his readers to sympathize for the plight of his transgressive heroines. However, Tennyson apparently cannot envision a bright future for the imperfect women, as both Elaine and Guinevere are killed off by the series’ conclusion. As a result, the progressiveness of Idylls becomes more questionable when these two female characters can only find adequate resolution in death.

In spite of these issues, the character of Elaine still challenges Victorian middle-class ideals of womanhood. To begin, the standard of the ideal woman being passive, selflessly devoted to her loved ones, and pure was greatly popularized by the widely read narrative poem

The Angel in the House by Coventry Patmore (1854). Through the influence of the poem, the term ‘angel in the house’ emerged as a term for describing the female archetype that began proliferating social discussion regarding women as well as the literary world.

In many ways, the Angel of the House understanding of women was definitive of the

Victorian era. Before, in the 18th century, women were on the whole perceived as sinful creatures that brought about the fall of man. As Mary Poovey articulates in “The Ideological Work of

Gender,” women were perceived to be like Eve of the Bible, the ‘Mother of our Miseries.’

Poovey elaborates on this perception of women by stating:

As late as the 1740s, woman was consistently represented as the site of willful

sexuality and bodily appetite: whether figured as that part of man responsible for

the Fall, as was characteristic of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century texts, or

represented as man’s foil, as in eighteenth-century texts like Swift’s and Pope’s

poems, women were associated with flesh, desire, and unsocialized, hence

susceptible, impulses and passions. (9-10) Chen 5

Gradually, over time, this conception of women gradually shifted to make way for the new,

Victorian cultural view that upheld the Angel of the House ideal. Instead, men were the ones perceived to be in need of a nurturing woman, who acted as a “moral hope and spiritual guide”

(10). As a result, two very different perceptions of women emerged within a century. Women went from being seen as aggressive and carnal to selfless mothers who were “‘naturally’ self- sacrificing,” sexless angels that “radiated morality.” (Poovey 8, 11)

This ideal also emerged primarily in response to middle-class anxieties about crime, immorality, and close contact with the lower classes. Because of these apprehensions, the divide between the private and public sphere became heavily emphasized within the Victorian period.

In her book Good Girls Make Good Wives, Judith Rowbotham articulates how the concept of the separate spheres emerged as the mode of production moved outside the home, creating a physical divide between work and home life. Next, the nouveau riche likewise upheld the divide because having an employed wife was a sign of being lower class. These factors fueled the middle class ideals in having a wife sheltered from the public sphere, which distinguished them from the working classes. Enlightenment ideas, which encouraged binary thinking with regards to gender, also contributed to the development of the Angel in the House ideal of femininity. Men were considered rational as opposed to their more emotional and sensitive wives. Consequently, many middle class Victorians did not find the Angel in the House paradigm of womanly excellence problematic.

With these thoughts in mind, the premise of my thesis is to present a negotiated reading of Tennyson’s Idylls of the King and reveal how the text both challenges and supports Victorian middle-class understandings of women. In many ways, Elaine’s sexual purity as the “lily maid” and devotion to Lancelot reflects desirable traits found in ideal Victorian women, she also Chen 6 displays many other behaviors that directly contradict qualities of the Angel in the House. For instance, one of Elaine’s most definitive qualities, being a woman artist, would have been considered potentially controversial within some Victorian circles. At best, the Angel of the

House could operate as a muse to stimulate the inspiration of her artist husband. Many voices within the Victorian community voiced their fears that artistic women would inevitably neglect their households and their ‘natural-born’ duties as wives and mothers. Because of women’s supposed greater emotionality, an overactive imagination was also considered dangerous within women.

Just as women’s creative potential was frowned upon, the authority of the gaze was also seen as transgressive for Victorian women, who were supposed to be submissive, passionless, and innocent. The burgeoning women’s rights movement potentially influenced many Victorian painters and poets to remove the gaze from their female subjects, therefore, returning the power of the gaze back in male hands. The image of the Greek hero Perseus beheading Medusa also saw a resurgence of popularity during the Victorian era for similar reasons. Respected male artists such as Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Lord Frederic Leighton, and Albert Moore employed these themes throughout many of their paintings. Other poets, such as Dante Rossetti and Robert

Browning also depict women stripped of the gaze due to sleep or death. Tennyson, on the other hand, depicts Elaine as both a voyeur and a subject of the gaze, setting him apart from many of his contemporaries.

The last issue I discuss is Elaine’s mobility outside the domestic sphere and her expression of her private emotions. According to Sarah Stickney Ellis, a famous writer of

Victorian conduct books, a woman’s artistry should remain at home for the viewing of her family. By selling art to a public audience, many Victorians perceived women artists as Chen 7 trespassing the natural bounds between the separate spheres. Elaine, on the other hand, is very eager to command the attention of the whole court of Camelot and share her own tragic story with the world. While some critics read Elaine’s death as an act of submission, in many ways, her stylized funeral entrance into Camelot is one last transgressive goodbye to the world.

Elaine’s overall disregard for boundaries prevents her from being a traditional, Victorian Angel in the House.

All three aspects of Elaine’s transgression are intimately tied together. The power of the gaze is essential for artists to properly capture the world. Instead of the traditional roles of a male artist gazing at an unsuspecting female subject, Elaine reverses this setup by taking on the role of the artist, while Lancelot serves as the muse for all her work. Her foray into the public sphere after her death is the final factor that sets her apart from the ideal, Victorian Angel of the House.

As a result, as stated by Roger Platizky, although Tennyson was not as liberal or direct with his response to women’s issues of his day, his works were still “progressive in [their] own tentative way” (432).

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Chapter 1

In response to the wide range of works within his 63-year career, Tennyson has been labeled as both an effeminate and ultra-masculine writer.1 Due to the length of his career, it is almost understandable why Tennyson’s texts are labeled with such a broad scheme of contradictory adjectives. Linda Shires argues, in her article “Patriarchy, Dead Men, and

Tennyson’s Idylls of the King,” “if, when he becomes Laureate, he supports a myth of the paternal, manly male, by the end of his career, he has become much more unsure about the value of such a standard” (402). In other words, Tennyson’s body of work displays a spectrum of

Victorian attitudes towards the issue of gender. In Karen Hodder’s overview of public and critical reception of Lady of Shalott, she mentions how Marion Shaw has speculated that

Tennyson’s poetry reflects “Victorian society’s demands on the male psyche, which was expected to be ‘manly’ and restrained” (82). In a similar way, Tennyson’s work likewise addresses how women are forced to negotiate with societal expectations.

Tennyson, unlike some of his contemporaries, did not portray women as merely sexual objects or imperfect beings in need of saving. For instance, Hodder observes that some of

Tennyson’s “Lady poems” were not “created out of repressed physical attraction to the female, or a desire to fix her” (82). In fact, Hodder argues that the prevalence of using the female image within Victorian media was potentially in response to “a very special psychological need in a

1 Robert Bernard Martin discusses this idea in the biography Tennyson: The Unquiet Heart. Tennyson has been labeled as effeminate in recent years primarily due to the potential homosexual undertones in a number of his writings including his very famous In Memoriam. However, Tennyson has also been considered a staunch traditionalist and advocate of patriarchy. Kate Millet, in Sexual Politics (1970), famously denounced Tennyson as being sexist and misogynistic, especially in comparison to more radical voices supporting change for women in the 19th century. This viewpoint is primarily supported by the presence of a very domineering King Arthur who blames Guinevere’s infidelity for the fall of Camelot in Idylls of the King. Because King Arthur is occasionally interpreted as being the epitome of the perfect male who lacks an equal, Tennyson is frequently associated with a prudish, unsympathetic disdain for Guinevere. This perspective has gradually shifted over the years within the academic community.

Chen 9 society which overtly tended to define its gender roles very strictly” (83). Referring to living under the constraints of Victorian society as an “ordeal,” Hodder cites pre-Raphaelite paintings, the poetry of Browning and Hopkins, the novels of Dickens and Lewis Carroll as being emblematic of this phenomenon. Similarly, Lynne O’Brien states in “Male Heroism: Tennyson’s

Divided View” that Tennyson was “sensitive to how the culturally projected masculine image was often detrimental to both men and women” (172). This sensitivity can be seen through

Stephen Ahren’s interpretation of the character of King Arthur within his article “Listening to

Guinevere: Female Agency and the Politics of Chivalry.” Within the article, Ahren examines how Guinevere’s criticisms of Arthur are more than just frivolous complaints; instead, they hold larger implications that are central to the entire poetic series. Ahren argues that the failure of

Arthur’s ideals for Camelot also acts as a direct evaluation on the ineffectiveness of placing the moral burdens of all of society on the shoulders of women, women who are flawed, human, and real, as opposed to a mere stereotype.2 Ahren writes:

This exploitation follows a common trajectory: the knight idealizes his female

counterpart, and when the woman does not live up to the demands such a role

dictates, she is blamed for his failure to succeed in the world. . . Because Arthur

insists on casting Guinevere as emblematic of his destiny, he fails to fulfill the

expectations of the real woman and loses her completely. 90-91

2 Guinevere, in particular, chooses to resist this ideology primarily through her affair with Lancelot. Ahren states, The problem with Guinevere is that she does not want to ‘reign with one will in everything’ because that ‘one will’ is Arthur's, not hers. She refuses to play angel of the house, let alone of the castle. The queen chooses instead to rebel against the constraints of her social position by affirming her right to live her life as she desires. . . Although Lancelot treats the queen with perhaps too much of the idolatry prescribed by the courtly love code, he does seem to accept her for what she is: a sexual being with a strongly individualist identity. 97 Ahren observes how Arthur’s self-righteous final speech at Guinevere contrasts with her bittersweet parting with Lancelot and in a sense, further legitimizes Guinevere’s desire to find acceptance in another man.

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Elliot Gilbert in “Female King” agrees with this interpretation and concludes that

Guinevere’s adultery is not the true catalyst for Camelot’s fall. Instead, it is “Arthur's naivete about the dynamics of the human psyche that dooms his ideal community from the start” (874). Essentially, the myth of the Angel of the House is detrimental not only to personal relationships, but civilization as a whole.

In the same light, Arthur Simpson in ““Elaine the Unfair, Elaine the Unlovable: The

Socially Destructive Artist/Woman” argues that Tennyson purposefully characterizes Elaine of

Astolat as a self-absorbed egomaniac incapable of accepting reality for the purpose of critiquing the objectification of women, the treatment of them as “means and not ends” (360). Briefly analyzing Arthur’s speech in “Guinevere,” Simpson states that Arthur authoritatively enforces a one-dimensional understanding of gender roles within society, “a view which denies their complex humanity and moral responsibility” which contributes to “the fall of the realm” (361).

Simpson interprets Elaine as trying to “enact the cultural myth about maidens” that is imposed upon her by patriarchal society. Consequently, Elaine learns to wrestle authority for herself in an entirely destructive manner, by attention-seeking, “megalomaniacal willfulness” (361). Both articles highlight how Tennyson illustrates the ill consequences of rigid gender norms.

So how can we evaluate Tennyson’s gender politics? For this segment of my argument, I turn to basic feminist theory as a guideline. In 1979, Charlotte Bunch, an international feminist and human rights activist composed an article entitled “Not by Degrees: Feminist Theory and

Education.” This article offers a clear and concise method of evaluating texts through a feminist perspective. Through the article, Bunch highlights four critical aspects of feminist theory: description, analysis, vision, and strategy. Charlotte Brunch’s article provides a straightforward Chen 11 blueprint for assessing the strengths and problematic areas within Tennyson’s portrayal of women in Idylls of the King.

Looking at previous scholarship of Tennyson, many critics would agree that Idylls of the

King, under the guise of medieval Britain, provided an adequate reflection on the larger issues being addressed in Victorian England. Taking on the characters from Arthurian legends as a mask, Tennyson was able to bring major concerns to stimulate public discussion without being excessively radical. As Charlotte Bunch states, “Changing people’s perceptions of the world through new descriptions of reality is usually a prerequisite for altering that reality” (13).

Although Tennyson does pinpoint certain patriarchal ideals as negative, his texts have difficulty going beyond abstractions. As a result, Tennyson been viewed unfavorably within feminist literary criticism.

Tennyson’s lack of vision regarding the plight of women also hinders a more radical reading of Idylls of the King. Tennyson’s woeful, rather than hopeful, outlook is most notable within the stories of Elaine and Guinevere. Unable to envision a happy ending, Tennyson depicts both women as finding peace in death, rather than life.

In “Guinevere,” it is following Arthur’s long speech that Guinevere first feels the pain of regret of having betrayed her husband. However, in spite of her desire for absolution, her monologue emphasizes the hopelessness and despair of her situation rather than the possibility of change or improvement. Stating that Arthur’s mercy “choked” her, there is a double implication of the word (239). While Guinevere could have been choking back the tears, there is also a violent implication within the word. Arthur’s speech brings her grief, yet at the same time, it is also oppressive in nature, as if it had physically entangled itself around her neck to kill her.

Under the weight of his words, Guinevere ceases to see herself as anything beyond “pollution” Chen 12 and has been stripped of her defiant resistance to chivalric culture (239). She continues by briefly considering suicide, but decides that her death would still not remedy the past. She says,

Shall I kill myself?

What help in that? I cannot kill my sin,

If soul be soul, nor can I kill my shame;

No, nor by living can I live it down.

The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months,

The months will add themselves and make the years,

The years will roll into the centuries, And mine will ever be a name of scorn. . .

What else? what hope? I think there was a hope,

Except he mock’d me when he spake of hope; 239

Within her speech, Guinevere’s helplessness in positively affecting her situation is emphasized.

When she says, “nor by living can I live it down,” Guinevere recognizes that regardless of whatever action she takes, in life or death, she will be forever known for her guilt. By highlighting the progression of time, all the way from days to centuries, Guinevere is given an almost prophetic understanding of her own infamy within the Arthurian legends.

Later on, after dedicating the rest of her life to the nunnery, she wonders to herself, “Is it yet too late?” (241). Although Tennyson mentions that she is able ascend to the title of an abbess for three brief years, performing “good deeds” while living a “pure life,” it is only after her death that she is finally able to go “past/ To where beyond these voices there is peace” (241). It is in death that Guinevere is able to fully escape the condemnation of Arthur’s harsh words and social pressures. Chen 13

Likewise, Elaine is depicted as finding solace in death after Lancelot rejects her declaration of love.3 Following his departure, Elaine is shown to undergo a negative transformation and display traits uncharacteristic of the meek maid introduced in the beginning of the Idyll. While previous depictions of Elaine were of her quiet reflections and private musings in the solitude of her room, Elaine becomes extremely vocal in her emotional distress.

Compared to “a little helpless innocent bird” earlier in the Idyll, whispering “him or death,”

Elaine is shown to be unable to see any other possibilities for her future should Lancelot reject her love (159). Returning to her tower, she once again engages deeply within her imagination.

Tennyson describes it as such: “Death, like a friend’s voice from a distant field/ Approaching through the darkness, call’d; the owls/Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt/Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms/Of evening and the moanings of the wind” (161). Here, death, compared to the voice of a friend is given a sense of familiarity and comfort rather than something to fear. Instead of being repelled by the wailing sound of owls, the moaning of the wind, and the sight of the gloomy darkness, Elaine embraces her natural landscape as inspiration for her creative voice. Composing “A Little Song of Love and Death,” she remarks on the sweetness of death within the lyrics. As her voice scales higher with the last line of her song, “a fiery dawning wild with wind” rises in unison, shaking the tower (163). With the phrase,

Tennyson evokes the imagery of a growing, untamable wildfire of despair that is consuming

Elaine’s heart. Shuddering in fear, her brothers compare the sound to that of a Phantom. Elaine’s misery is truly a terrible sight and sound to behold. She is completely inconsolable.

Contrasted with the description of the anguished Elaine, the dead Elaine appears peaceful. Clothed all in white, just as she had arranged, “she did not seem as dead,/ But fast

3 There are a number of allusions to Elaine’s death throughout the Idyll, including when her father’s words, “Being so willful you must go” change and echo in her heart as “Being so willful you must die” (156). Chen 14 asleep, and lay as tho’ she smiled” (165.) Through the description, Tennyson implies that Elaine has finally found adequate rest from the turmoil of emotions within her spirit. Unable to achieve her hope of becoming Lancelot’s wife, Elaine turns to the other dreams of her past, to “pass beyond the cape/ That has the poplar on it;” (162). “There ye fixt/ Your limit,” Elaine says to her father. With that emphasis, the death of Elaine is truly freeing, on a psychological and physical level. Previously, while her father would comply with her wishes, Elaine was still only able to emerge from her small sphere by coddling her father with a request. Sitting on his knee, stroking his gray face, submitting a proposal of her motive and activities, even at her young age, Elaine understood that she needed to perform submissiveness in order to achieve her goals. Her particular standing in society, as highborn young woman, did not give her the privilege to roam freely; she had to receive patriarchal approval before she could take a single step outside the castle. As a result, the life prescribed to her by society was restricting in multiple ways. While previously only able to imagine Camelot from the confines of her tower, it is only through her

“last wishes” that Elaine is able to gain a listening ear.

Likewise, it is through her death that she is able to accomplish her goal to “speak for

[her] own self” (164). With very specific desires, and an audience in mind, she states how she will “enter in among them all,/And no man there will dare to mock at [her]” (162). Although

Arthur Simpson interprets this passage as emblematic of Elaine’s egocentricity, due to “fifteen first-person singular pronouns in thirteen lines, six of which end in ‘me,’” through this section,

Elaine demonstrates a clear awareness of her subject position in the eyes of Camelot (357).

Perpetually trivialized due to her youth, and her gender, Elaine attempts to take control of her public perception by orchestrating her presentation at court. Chen 15

As a result, in both the cases of Guinevere and Elaine, death is depicted as an appropriate, welcoming escape to social pressures. Like other Victorian novels, such as Mill on the Floss,

Oliver Twist, and Armadale, the only solution for women who do not conform to social expectations of women is to simply remove them from the story.4 In a similar manner, Tennyson cannot envision any other possible resolution for his two heroines.

As Ahren states, because Guinevere has

refused to conform to the submissive wifely role her husband and her society

prescribe, she has become not only a threat to social order, but the signifier of all

threat to that order. . . Guinevere's assertion of free will represented by her choice

of lover is an example of behavior that shakes the foundations of her patriarchal

culture. (105)

In this way, Guinevere operates as a figure that openly rebels against the societal expectations forced upon her because of her gender. Guinevere’s forceful opinions question and destabilize the authority of Arthur and the whole premise behind his conception of a perfect kingdom. Marion Shaw also states in her book Alfred Lord Tennyson that “Uncontrolled, unlegalized female sexual desire both emasculates men and reduces their manly function” (122).

4 Due to the shortness of using the novel as a medium, which became popularized during the Victorian era, many authors employed deus ex machina resolutions for their characters, especially women who had commit sexual sins or deviated from the “Angel of the House” model of femininity. In The Mill on the Floss by George Elliot, the independent and intelligent Maggie is also shown to torn between the romantic interests of a hunchback, Phillip Wakem, and the handsome Stephen Guest. While Maggie could potentially be content with either suitor, they both receive disapproval from Maggie’s family. Apparently unable to reach a satisfying resolution and the possibility of Maggie finding lasting happiness, George Elliot kills Maggie off in a flood. In Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, Oliver eventually discovers that his mother bore him out of wedlock. Although she was a loving woman, Dickens kills off her character shortly after giving birth to Oliver, primarily because of the audience’s inability to reconcile a different ending for a woman who was sexually impure. Nancy the kind-hearted prostitute is also killed off before the end of the book. In Armadale by Wilkie Collins, the villainous Lydia attempts to murder the main character Allan Armadale through the use of poison gas. Although she comes to regret her intentions, and stops before committing the crime, her character commits suicide, ending any chance of further redemption. Once again, the act of death becomes the only resolution for imperfect women.

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While Elaine’s desires are not consummated, she still deviates significantly from the selfless

Angel of the House model. While Elaine does not rebel against social expectations in the same way as Guinevere, as noted by Simpson, her personal agency, willfulness, and pursuit of her own desires indicate that even in spite of her “purity,” Elaine would most likely grow up to resemble

Guinevere rather than Enid. This explains why both Guinevere and Elaine share a similar fate within the series. In spite of these issues in Idylls of the King, the ideologies active within

“Lancelot and Elaine” still diverge significantly from traditional male narratives and literary/artistic portrayals of women during the Victorian era.

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Chapter 2: Deviating from the Angelic Norm

“Of all woman’s enemies, I tell you that the worst are those who insist that woman is an angel. To say that woman is an angel is to impose on her, in a sentimental and admiring fashion, all duties, and to reserve for oneself all rights; it is to imply that her specialty is self-effacement, resignation, and sacrifice; it is to suggest to her that woman’s greatest glory, her greatest happiness, is to immolate herself for those she loves . . . In the face of this long enumeration, I decline the honor of being an angel. No one has the right to force me to be both dupe and victim. . . . No power has the right to impose it on me.” ~Maria Deraismes, 19th century French feminist

Although Elaine on the whole does not conform to the Victorian Angel in the House in numerous ways, which I will discuss in greater detail later on, it is still important to consider how Elaine is still conventional due to a number of factors. As stated in the introduction, for

Idylls of the King to gain widespread popularity, Tennyson’s characters still needed to win the appeal of the Victorian middle-class audience. In order to accomplish this task, Tennyson modifies, but does not entirely dismantle Victorian beliefs concerning ideal femininity. For one, just like the Angel in the House, Elaine is emblematic of feminine beauty and sexual purity.

These two characteristics are mentioned at the very beginning of the idyll when the readers are first introduced to Elaine. Like Tennyson’s treatment of the male knights within the idylls, Elaine is presented with three epithets to quickly and easily communicate her most outstanding qualities; she is “Elaine the fair,” “Elaine the lovable” and “Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat”

(138). Elaine’s fair beauty, like her other features, is referenced throughout the idyll in several moments. For instance, Lancelot gazes upon her with awe on page 146, Gawain takes note of her dainty face and “exquisitely turn’d” body on page 153, and Camelot’s citizens comment on her

“fair” appearance on page 167. Although Elaine is an unconventional Victorian woman through her actions, she is physically unmarked by deformity that might serve as an indicator of being moral decrepit. Elaine is also very elegant and graceful. Although Elaine moves outside the Chen 18 domestic sphere to tend to Lancelot, she is described as “gliding” like a ghost; Elaine’s movements are silent and not distracting to the company around her (157).5

On a similar note, Elaine is also referred to as the “lily maid” multiple times throughout the story, and this phrase is often used interchangeably with her actual name. In spite of her willfulness, the lily still symbolizes youthful innocence and purity, which become some of her most notable characteristics. The term “lily maid” is used eleven times through the story from beginning to end; as a result, Elaine’s is noted as being innocent and pure throughout the tale.

When Elaine dies, it is almost as if she would rather die than have to live and potentially marry another man besides Lancelot. In a sense, her death can also serve as a testament of her faithfulness.

Elaine’s devotion to Lancelot is also evident through her treatment of his shield. Leaving her “her household and good father” “day by day,” she climbs the tower and bars the door behind her (139). This description highlights Elaine’s dedication to the shield as well as the ceremonial nature of her visits. For Elaine, the actions of climbing the tower and barring the door are like a daily religious ritual. Although Elaine gradually ignores the division between the private and public sphere, in the beginning, she appears very conscious of the divide. She does not trouble her family, or anyone else, with her personal thoughts; instead, she keeps her reveling to herself.

Having woven Lancelot’s shield a case of silk to protect it from “rust or soilure,” Elaine’s artwork at this point is domestic, useful, and unthreatening.

5 Sarah Stickney Ellis states in her book “The Daughters of England” how drawing is a preferable pastime because “It is quiet. It disturbs no one; for however defective the performance may be, it does not necessarily, like music, jar upon the sense” (38). As a result, while Elaine’s activities do take her outside the domestic sphere, they are not quite as problematic as they do not trouble other individuals. However, she does later loudly announce her grief, her intentions of dying, and leaving her home for Camelot on a barge. These actions create quite a disturbance, and consequently are much less ladylike. Chen 19

Elaine continues to display her loyalty to Lancelot when she refuses the advances of the knight Gawain. When Gawain comes upon her in the middle of his quest to deliver Lancelot’s diamond, he finds her immensely attractive, and begins to court her with “sallying wit,” “graces of the court, and songs,/ Sights, and low smiles, and golden eloquence/ And amorous adulation.”

Here, Tennyson’s long description details the great lengths Gawain entails for the sake of wooing Elaine. With Gawain’s “sallying wit” and “golden eloquence,” Gawain clearly has a very experienced way with words. Meeting among the garden yews “oft,” Gawain appears extremely persistent in his pursuit of Elaine. Regardless of Gawain’s attentions and his flattery, Elaine resists all temptation and still loves Lancelot best. Openly she “Rebell’d against it” and reminds

Gawain of his quest (153). Unlike milder maids who might have been tricked by Gawain’s smooth talk, Elaine stands strong.

Likewise, when Elaine hears about Lancelot’s injury, she immediately goes to tend to him. Going to and fro from her home to the cave where he resided, Elaine expresses her willingness to travel for the sake of her beloved. Here, Tennyson’s description of Elaine caring for Lancelot is somewhat consistent with the Angel of the House model. In this section, unlike her behavior with her father, she does not show her willfulness. (In fact, her persistent persuasion of her father appears to have been used for good.) Instead, she very selflessly sacrifices her time and energy for the sake of nurturing Lancelot’s health.6 As in Coventry Patmore’s Angel in the

House, she “loves with a love that cannot tire.” Lancelot is Elaine’s number one priority. In many ways, in this passage, Elaine demonstrates her potential as a wife and mother, as she takes care of Lancelot. Tending him for many days and nights, she is described as “meek” and gentle, who “sweetly forebore him ever.” Despite Lancelot’s feverish and uncourteousness, Elaine is

6 Arthur Simpson would argue that her act of kindness was not entirely selfless, as she did hope that Lancelot would love her in return due to her action. Chen 20 patient with Lancelot. At this point, Tennyson describes Elaine as being “meeker than any child” and “milder than any mother to a sick child.” With these very direct comparisons, Elaine clearly possesses qualities that would make her the ideal Victorian wife. Tennyson goes as far as to say that “never woman yet, since man’s first fall,/ Did kindlier unto man.” Tennyson has just stated that Elaine is a woman incomparable to all women, since the dawn of time. And what of Elaine’s motivation? Her “deep love/ Upbore her.” Elaine is not thinking about wealth, or riches, or a great reward for her duties. She is purely motivated by her love for Lancelot. Her love for

Lancelot is the source of her strength, and allows her to endure a harsh environment outside of her home. Elaine’s capabilities as a wife are further accentuated when her work is validated by the hermit, who is “skill’d in all/ The simples and the science of that time.” At this point, a knowledgeable, learned man states “her fine care” had saved Lancelot’s life (158). With the hermit’s approval, Elaine had not overestimated her ability to aid Lancelot. In this particular moment, Elaine is characterized as a patient, gentle, and nurturing figure who is willing to make sacrifices for her loved ones. In many respects, this scene reflects Elaine’s potential to become an Angel in the House through fulfilling the role of a caring wife and mother, one that is never realized.

Also, in spite of Elaine’s moments of great boldness, Elaine is still somewhat hesitant to share her feelings with Lancelot. Instead of simply fearlessly proclaiming her love for Lancelot,

Elaine initially displays modesty with regards to sharing her inner emotions.7 When Lancelot urges her to speak a request as a reward for healing him, he very directly says “do not shun/ To speak the wish most near to your true heart.” Once again, Tennyson compares her to a ghost

“without the power to speak.” Regardless of Lancelot’s insistence on knowing the truth, she still

7 As I discuss in greater detail later on, prominent conduct book writers such as Sarah Stickney Ellis largely frowned upon the expression of emotions. Chen 21 withholds her wish. It is only after Lancelot says that he is leaving that Elaine is prompted to confess. “Innocently extending her white arms,” she asks to be his wife. When Lancelot refuses, she alters her request to simply be with him, to see his face, to serve him and follow him through the world. Elaine’s dedication to Lancelot is so strong that she does not care for any sense of legitimacy by being his wife. Within this passage, Tennyson chooses to emphasize the innocence and purity of Elaine’s devotion. By having Lancelot prompt her to speak, Elaine is not characterized as a lusty, passionate seductress who makes the first move. Through Tennyson’s narration, Elaine’s desire for Lancelot is presented in a relatively non-transgressive manner.

Elaine’s apparently selfless devotion to Lancelot contrasts sharply with the jealous, tempestuous Guinevere, whose fickle desires place a physical and emotional strain on Lancelot.

Describing Lancelot and Guinevere’s relationship, Tennyson writes, “The great and guilty love he bare the Queen,/In battle with the love he bare his lord,/Had marr’d his face, and mark’d it ere his time.” (144) In this part of the idyll, Tennyson highlights the negative side effects of his love for the Queen. Lancelot is the greatest fighter in the entire realm. By stating that his love for the

Queen was “in battle” with his love for Arthur, Tennyson emphasizes the violent turmoil brewing within Lancelot’s heart. With the description of how this struggle has “marr’d” him, it is almost as if the whole situation has left another scar, like the real sword-cut, on Lancelot’s face.

Used beside the term “mark’d,” like a visible scar earned in combat, Lancelot’s guilty love has permanently defined him from his peers. All this has fallen upon “the great knight, the darling of the court,/Loved of the loveliest . . .” (144). Later in the story, Tennyson likewise writes, “The shackles of an old love straiten’d him” (158). With the term “shackles,” it is as if Lancelot’s love for the Queen is a physical weight or burden. Lancelot is chained to his old love. Unlike Elaine’s life-giving affection, Lancelot’s love for Guinevere is like a prison. Chen 22

Referring to Elaine as Guinevere’s “guiltless rival,” Tennyson makes his comparison of the two women is very evident for his readers (155). Even while Lancelot remains “falsely true” to Guinevere, Tennyson’s preference for Elaine as a woman is extremely evident. However,

Elaine’s imperfections as a potential Angel of the House makes her an unusual choice for

Tennyson’s praises. After Elaine has died, Lancelot begins to echo Tennyson the narrator’s own sentiments by remarking how Elaine’s love was “far tenderer than my Queen’s” (170). Even while Elaine is imperfect as the Angel of the House in some senses, comparatively speaking, she still possesses qualities of the ideal Victorian women that elicit sympathy from Tennyson’s readership.

Victorian Attitudes about Suicide and Elaine as Woman Artist

Although Elaine clearly possesses a number of virtues commonly associated with the

Angel in the House, Elaine’s death still serves as an indicator of her transgressiveness. Victorian attitudes concerning suicide also reveal more about how Elaine’s death may have been received.

During the 19th century, the growing issue of suicide sparked an interest within the European medical community, which was seeking answers as to why and how people would come to end their lives. One issue within this investigation was the differences between male and female suicides. In the article “Suicide, Gender, and the Fear of Modernity in Nineteenth-Century

Medical and Social Thought,” Howard Kushner notes how Etienne Esquirol, a leader in the

French asylum movement, cited women as being less susceptible to thoughts of suicide due to the “over-excitement of their sensibilities, their flights of imagination, their exaggerated tenderness, their religious attachments,” all of which “produce in them illnesses opposed to suicide, in addition to which their mild character and natural timidity distances them” from Chen 23 suicidal thoughts (468). Another French alienist, Jean-Pierre Falret, in a document published in

1822, similarly stated his belief that women were less likely to commit suicide due to the

“sweetness of their temperament” Essentially, some Victorians believed that possessing qualities such as “passivity, frailty, modesty, patience, loyalty, acceptance, and self-renunciation” prevented women from taking the drastically selfish course of committing suicide. The

Contemporary Review, published in 1883, stated “if the female intellect be less powerful than man’s, it is at the same time better balanced, or at least more capable of standing against reverses of fortune, and facing the battle of life” (Kushner 468). Overall, female suicides were seen to be anomalies, while male suicides acted as indicators of “national economics and social well-being”

(469). Additionally, female suicides were said to be more prevalent when women deviated from their socially designated positions as wives and mothers. Barbara Welter, in her article “The Cult of True Womanhood: 1820-1860,” notes how a woman’s inability to adhere to the virtues of

“piety, purity submissiveness, and domesticity” were thought to bring on “madness or death.”

This belief was reflected in 19th century novels such as Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, Leo

Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth. In these novels, a woman commits adultery, cannot reconcile with her husband, and then commits suicide (apparently the only resolution to the woman’s predicament.) As a result, women’s suicide began to be tied to

“real and imagined loss of purity” (470). When a woman’s loss of purity was not the main cause, female suicides were tied to an ‘unnatural’ move outside the private sphere.

Consequently, Elaine’s suicide could potentially be tied to the many ways in which she undermined traditional gender roles. While she does not transgress as far as Guinevere, her unconventional behavior leads to her death according to Victorian understandings of suicide.

However, this begs the question, in what way is Elaine transgressive, according to Victorian Chen 24 culture? To understand Elaine’s transgressiveness first requires some background information on

Victorian attitudes regarding gender roles and female artists.

During the Victorian era, the question of woman’s proper place in society was brought into question. Although women were generally thought to belong in the home, the growing role of governesses broke the normally accepted divide between the private and the public sphere.

Even while governesses tutored within the privacy of their employer’s home, receiving payment for their work included them as part of the work force, a traditionally masculine arena. Could a woman simultaneously be a “lady” and a “worker”? This clash of qualities was highly confusing to a Victorian public, and sparked a large debate on the proper role of women in society. This issue was known as the “Woman Question” (Broadview 603).

As Victorian feminists fought to educate women, beyond teaching them the skills to raise children and run households, anti-feminists likewise emerged and articulated what types of women were undesirable for society. The issue of female artists entering the public arena was also particularly problematic to Victorian England.8 Female artists, unlike novelists, oftentimes had to be physically present to transport their paintings and consult with art dealers. As a result, they felt a need to distinguish themselves from other visually available women of lower repute, including prostitutes and actresses. With the horrified responses to women entering the professional realm, it was almost as if selling any sort of labor had an indirect connection with the act of selling a woman’s body (Losano 56). As Barbara Leah Harman states, in Victorian

England, there were clear associations between “access to public life, freedom of movement, and

8 According to Antonia Losano’s The Woman Painter in Victorian Literature, the number of female artists doubled between 1851-1871, and continued to steadily increase after. Art shops, books, manuals, and sketching clubs, some devoted exclusively for women, began to emerge during the 19th century. Elizabeth Ellet in 1859 wrote how the number of women involved in art at the moment was greater than that of the whole preceding century: ““The progress of female talent and skill . . . has become more remarkable than ever within the last fifty years” (234). Nevertheless, while creating art as a hobby was socially acceptable and prevalent, women were overall barred from High Art. Although the Royal Academy, the center of British art, had two female founders, they did not accept women from the late 18th to the early 20th century (44). Chen 25 sexual impropriety” (5). In the memoir Recollections of a Spinster Aunt (1908), Sophia Beale expresses her disgust at the thought of managing money: “The mere fact of one’s mind dwelling upon money, or the want of it, is degrading” (158). The exchange of art for money was also considered vulgar by some, as “art is not commerce” (Beale 117).

Beyond the basic understandings of the separate spheres, there were also numerous other reasons that prevented women from pursuing professional art. One factor was the traditional

Romantic conception of artists. Susan Casteras in “The Necessity of a Name: Portrayals and

Betrayals of Victorian Women Artists” notes how within Romantic tradition, artists were outsiders of society who were described as “bohemian, flamboyant, tormented or struggling, moody or soulful” beings who possessed the “divinity of genius” (209) While many of these descriptors would be considered undesirable in the ideal wife, one notable quality was the isolation of artists. Sarah Stickney Ellis, in her conduct book The Daughters of England, communicates how women operate as the connective tissue of a community, uniting families and ultimately the nation (Losano 25). Consequently, because of women’s duty to unite the community, the isolating factor of the traditional Romantic artist would be highly undesirable in a Victorian woman.

The traditional sensuousness of the Romantic artists, who considered art a “life-and-death erotic experience,” was another quality that made art a potentially inappropriate venture for the average middle-class Victorian woman (Losano 17). Because the Angel in the House model called for passionlessness, the presumed sensuality of art was considered unsuitable for women.

Female artists of the time had difficulty finding male models that would be willing to sit for their paintings. Painting nude women, on the other hand, was still considered problematic due to the possibility of fostering lesbian desire (Losano 29). Chen 26

The physical nature of creating art also prevented Victorian public from immediately accepting women artists. John Ruskin, a prominent Victorian art critic, also solidifies art as a masculine activity within his book Lectures on Art. Although Ruskin was an advocate for women’s education, he describes the “muscular precision” and “intellectual strain” of creating art. Great art, to Ruskin, required “muscular firmness and subtlety” which also required “energy of the brain, sustained all day long” (149). He also remarks, in volume 2 of Modern Painters, that

“a great painter must necessarily be a man of strong and perfect physical condition” (78). With these qualifications, how could women, who were accepted to be physically weaker than men, ever be great painters? With male artists being described as sensitive, physically active, and vigorous, did female artists necessarily have to fulfill these requirements, which challenged

Victorian ideals concerning feminine passivity, to be recognized for their art?

While there were a number of supporters who could see potential benefits of including the writings of women within literary circulation, there was also a great amount of backlash in response to female artists. Female writers were considered transgressive and potentially dangerous to the very fabric of polite English society. As a result, female writers began to be the target of political cartoons and conduct books, which ridiculed and chastised women for neglecting their wifely duties for the sake of pursuing outside interests. As these women were potentially outselling their male rivals, the thought of women writers was peculiarly threatening to traditional Victorian gender roles, which posed women as only helpers and muses to “real” artists. In this context, the desire to become an artist was directly equated with the desire to escape traditional gender roles. By taking on the role of the artist, female writers were challenging Victorians ideals about art as well as womanhood (Helsinger 3). Chen 27

One American cartoon, published in Yankee Notions entitled “The Scribbling Woman,” provides an illustration of these fears. In the image, a woman sits at a desk beside a large bookshelf, with pen in hand on the far left. She is lifting her left hand, dismissing her family as a distraction from her more important work. At the center of the image stands her dismayed husband with babe in hand. With the curtains torn in the background, the house is in disarray.

Deep in thought and completely consumed with her work, she pays no attention to her husband as well as two unruly children in tears in the far right corner of the cartoon. The cartoon’s illustration of a hypothetical situation very clearly highlights common reasons why women were often discouraged from writing.

George Henry Lewes, life companion of the famous female Victorian writer George

Elliot, also communicated some of his own insecurities in the article “A Gentle Hint to Writing

Women.” Published in 1850 in Leader, the article comically recollects the olden times when

“women were content to boil dumplings.” Now, “women study Greek and despise dumplings.”

Writing in grand flourishes, Lewes reminisces about the splendidness of his own prior success:

“The time was when my contributions were sought as favours; my graceful phrase was to be seen threading, like a meandering stream, through the rugged mountains of statistics, and the dull plains of matter of fact, in every possible publication.” What exactly is the cause for his current misfortunes? Women writers. He writes, “now I starve. What am I to do - . . . when such rivalry is permitted?” Naming popular female writers among “fifty others,” Lewes highlights the growing numbers of women writers rising to prominence within the literary scene. Male writers cannot compare to their “shrewd and delicate observation of life,” “glowing rhetoric and daring utterance of social wrong,” and “cutting sarcasm and vigorous protests” (4). Effectively, women Chen 28 writers have begun to dominate the market not only because of their strong writing, but also as a result of their bold social criticism.

The climax of the essay is presented with Lewes crying out: “where, oh, where, are the dumplings? Does it never strike these delightful creatures that their little fingers were made to be kissed not to be inked?” Here, Lewes mentions the implication that women are supposed to the objects of male desire rather than writers. He continues on by stating:

Women’s proper sphere of activity is elsewhere. Are there no husbands, lovers,

brothers, friends to coddle and console? Are there no stockings to darn, no purses

to make, no braces to embroider? My idea of a perfect woman is of one who can

write but won’t; who knows all that authors known and a great deal more; who

can appreciate my genius and not spoil my market; who can pet me, and flatter

me, and flirt with me, and work for me, and sing to me, and love me . . . To knit a

purse or work an ottoman is a graceful and useful devotion of female energies . . .

That is what I call something like woman’s mission . . . Women of England!

Listen to my words: Your path is the path of perdition, your literary impulses are

the impulses of Satan. (5)

Within Lewes’ piece, he directly references the Victorian perception that women were to remain within their “proper sphere,” with their lives revolving around the men in their lives, whether they are husbands, lovers, brothers, or friends. Darning stockings, making purses, and embroidery were all culturally appropriate hobbies for domestic angels. The ideal Victorian woman would be ever supportive of her husband’s endeavors, and never threaten to overshadow him with her own artistic work. By calling women’s literary impulses the impulses of Satan,

Lewes draws upon the religious arguments that also emerged in support of women staying within Chen 29 traditional gender roles. Overall, Lewes’ piece is a very thorough parody of criticism against women writers, which accurately exposes the numerous dimensions of male anxiety regarding women in literature.

Just as women were oftentimes dissuaded from publishing their works for various reasons, they were likewise encouraged to remain supportive onlookers. For instance, Isaac

Disraeli, father of the future prime minister, praises the writer Salomon Gessner’s wife for playing the role of the artist’s muse, rather than openly competing with her husband in the book

The Literary Characteristics of Men of Genius (1840). Kindly outside of the spotlight, Mrs.

Gessner instead concentrated on working to reanimate Mr. Gessner’s genius, “exciting him to new productions” through her “sure and delicate taste.” Basically, Disraeli’s description of Mrs.

Gessner supports the belief that the primary purpose of an artist’s wife was to assist in her husbands work, acting as a muse during periods of droughts where inspiration would run dry.

Her duty was to stimulate her husband for greater work.9

Essentially, women artists were seen as neglecting their traditional responsibilities; art was primarily a male prerogative (Helsinger 16). The danger of female artists was also tied to the apparently volatile and erotic female imagination, which needed to be repressed or controlled, just like the gaze. In Victorian publications, women’s imagination was described as insatiable, like a raging fire, like an addictive disease, or a craving. While poetry was considered a higher art, novels were said to be over-engrossing, to the point of stimulating women in an unhealthy manner. This opinion amplified especially during the rise of sensation novels in the 1860s.

Overall, there was a general fear for the over-excitability of the female gender. One writer, Mary

9 This sentiment reflects earlier statements made by John Ruskin in the essay “Of the Queen’s Gardens”. He writes: “The man’s power is active, progressive, defensive. He is eminently the doer, the creator, the discoverer, the defender. . . . her intellect is not for invention or creation, but for sweet ordering, arrangement, and decision. Her greatest function is praise.” Here, the act of creating is clearly designed as a masculine. Chen 30

Ann Stodart described in her book Female Writers (1842) how in women “the imagination is commonly too active, the judgment not sufficiently so” (134). In the book Thoughts on Self-

Culture (1851), educators Maria Grey and Emily Shirreff expressed a similar sentiment by stating how women could potentially be “misled by mere delusions of [their] own making”

(399). According to Grey and Shirreff, a young female reader is predisposed to placing “herself in the position of any favorite personage, and should she feel or fancy any resemblance in her own mind and circumstances to those portrayed.” As a result, she is “easily led to expect a similar course of events to draw forth the virtues or the talents, or to give scope to the feelings, of which she is conscious” (410). These premises generally supported the notion that women were emotional and irrational, devoid of self-control and easily influenced by the stories written in books. Men, on the other hand, were more suited to safely temper their own imaginations.

This understanding of female artistry, interestingly enough, deviated significantly from the classical mythological origin story of painting. In book 35 of Pliny the Elder’s Natural

History, he describes the Corinthian maid Dibutade falling in love with a beautiful, sleeping man. Wishing to carry his image with her, she took a stylus and traced his profile, thus creating the first painting. In this story, the roles of man as artist and woman as subject have been reversed. In spite of this well-known story, the Victorian public responded to transgressiveness of female artists by attempted to reeroticize them. The refocus on the woman painter’s body as a desirable and beautiful work of art redomesticized female painters into traditional roles. In a

Punch review of an art show put on by the Society of Female Artists in 1857, the article describes enjoying the company of the lady artists, rather than appreciating the art itself.

Referring to the women artists by their first name, the writer emphasizes how the artists are young, unmarried women. Why refer to their last names, if they will eventually be changed? The Chen 31 writer invites Victorian men to come mingle with the young female artists. Here, they would find

Harriet, who might “one day be your wife?” or Louisa, the one you probably “flirted with last week at a picnic in Birnam Beeches.” Antonia Losano notes how this reflects how the men do not see the women as artists, but sexually available young women. This flippant article clearly attempts to return the women into their traditional position as object of desire and highlights one of the struggles female artists faced during the Victorian era (46).

Regardless of widespread disapproval and resistance against female artists during the

Victorian period, Tennyson very deliberately characterizes Elaine as a multitalented woman creator. She is nobody’s muse, but a creative force of her own right. Like the Romantic artists, she is also very isolated from the world, high up in her room to the east. Left to her own devices by her father and brothers, she independently weaves a case of silk for Lancelot’s shield out of her own fancy. Tennyson’s word choice in describing Elaine’s lively imagination also serves as an indication of her potential artistic talents. Even as she stays awake to recall Lancelot’s face, she is described as meditating over it “as when a painter, poring on a face,/ Divinely thro’ all hindrance finds the man/ behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and color of a mind and life,/ Lives for his children, ever at its best/ And fullest . . .” (146). By comparing Elaine to a painter, Tennyson has created a story with a character that was not very commonly portrayed in

Victorian literature, an artistic woman, at the focal point. By using the term “divinely,” Tennyson highlights the almost mystical, unfathomable process of creating art as well as the marvelous quality of the actual work. Stating how the painter must overcome all hindrances to “find the man” likewise emphasizes the miraculous nature of his work. Tennyson also notes how a good painter captivates “the shape and color of a mind and life,” which indicates the depth of Elaine’s

“artwork”. Imagining Lancelot is more than recapturing the physical contours of his face, but Chen 32 going beyond to take note of Lancelot’s thoughts, as well as his past and present. Elaine’s attention to detail can also be observed when she is the only one to notice Lancelot’s internal issues: “She still took note that when the living smile/ Died from his lips, across him came a cloud/ Of melancholy severe . . .” (146) King Arthur remains blissfully unaware of Lancelot’s inner turmoil and Guinevere is too self-absorbed to care. It is Elaine’s observant eye that perceives what others do not.

Elaine, through Tennyson’s narration during the quiet moments of her personal reflection, is clearly defined as a woman with a perceptive, artistic eye. This depiction of Elaine persists throughout the idyll, as she composes and performs a song after her rejection, and designs her own funeral. Although Arthur Simpson labels Elaine as destructive, ultimately,

Elaine converts her own personal sorrows into works of art.10

Next, it is important to discuss how and why Elaine’s unwavering gaze was also considered transgressive within Victorian culture. The gaze, a crucial component of creating and reproducing life through art, also set her apart from the Angel of the House archetype.

Elaine’s Gaze: The Transgression of Feminine Sight

Just as some writers in 19th century England frowned upon female artistry, the mere threat of a female gaze was also a point of contention within the Victorian art and literary community. According to Kate Flint in The Victorians and the Visual Imagination, the importance of vision was especially significant to Victorian England. In the introduction to her book The Woman Painter in Victorian Literature, Antonia Losano discusses how the

10 Lancelot’s influence in Elaine’s artwork contrasts sharply with the situation depicted in “The Lady of Shalott.” In the poem “The Lady of Shalott,” the lady is invested in weaving “her magic web” and creating her own interpretation of the world she sees prior to seeing Lancelot. Instead of inspiring her as a muse, Lancelot causes the Lady of Shalott to effectively abandon her artwork.

Chen 33 reproduction of images was highly captivating to Victorian audiences. With the invention of photography, the popularity of illustration in fiction, scientific treatises on vision and the structure of the eye, as well as literary obsession of visual description, the obsession with the act of looking transcended multiple disciples, including art, science, and literature (5). Sophia

Andres argues how the love of art within the Victorian community actually placed pressure on

Victorian writers to recreate painterly techniques and employ them in their narratives (Losano 5­

6). Mack Smith in Literary Realism and the Ekphrastic Tradition also notes how the realism within novels pushed writers to use visual metaphors. As a result, many works of art, including paintings, poems, short stories, and novels, directly play with the theme of looking. Peter Brooks likewise states how in writing, the act of viewing and the ability to describe in detail signifies the power of knowledge. Nancy Armstrong also validates this statement; visual information is “the basis for the intelligibility of verbal narrative” (7-8).

Because writers were usually men attempting to describe female subjects, James

Heffernan discusses how the relationship between the artist and subject is often a “struggle for dominance between the image and the word.” In this situation, a silent image is subjected to power under the authority of language. Here, a masculine poetic speaker is eager to pin ‘her,’ the feminized subject, down with concrete description. Heffernan describes the “duel between male and female gazes, the voice of male speech striving to control a female image that is both alluring and threatening” (1). This struggle for power is incredibly evident within examples from the Victorian artistic community, where women are depicted as being pacified through sleepiness or death.

This pattern has clear ties to the tradition of courtly love, which has a courtly lover worshiping an unwilling, mute, immobile, feminized object who attempts to possess it. This Chen 34 detailed description of the woman is called a “blazon,” and works in a way to control the female, or the object of desire. While detailed descriptions are often supposed to bring subjects to life, in a sense, for the readers, they can sometimes also have the opposite effect. Called enargeia, subjects can also become objectified to the point of becoming completely entombed. Therefore, women can lose their humanity in the eyes of their viewers when they are characterized exclusively as subjects of the gaze.

Heffernan continues his argument by pointing out how Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, a philosopher who wrote about aesthetics, among other topics, during the Enlightenment period, stated how the duty of pictures was to be silent and beautiful. However, “in talking back to and looking back at the male viewer, the images . . . challenge at once the controlling authority of the male gaze and the power of the male word” (Heffernan 7). However, this type of rebellion against the male spectator, while largely missing from the works of many male Victorian artists and writers, is present in Elaine’s behaviors within Idylls of the King.

Because of the importance of vision with 19th century culture, the gaze within art communicates a great deal concerning gender politics within the Victorian era. According to

Daryl Ogden’s “The Language of the Eyes: Science, Sexuality, and Female Vision in English

Literature and Culture,” because of increasing strides to obtain rights for women during the

Victorian era, feminists received severe backlash in political cartoons. While some attacks directly caricatured women’s rights activists, known as bluestockings, retaliation also manifested indirectly within the poems and paintings of the 19th century.

Overall, women portrayed within art were divided into two distinct types: demonic and powerful, like the Medusa, or submissive and vulnerable. Paintings such as Sir Edward Burne-

Jones’ The Death of the Medusa II, demonstrate a male hero’s triumph over a threatening female Chen 35 gaze. 11 In the painting, the hero Perseus stands on the right edge, holding Medusa’s head in his hands. He grips her hair of snakes in his right hand and his chiseled, unemotional face shows no evidence of fear. Medusa’s eyes are closed; in death the tyranny of her gaze has been overcome.

With Perseus’ left hand wrapped over Medusa’s mouth, he has not only ended her gaze; he has effectively silenced her. Clad in full armor, he gazes upon the two shapely naked female

Gorgons who cower in fear, their bodies completely exposed to both Perseus and the gaze of a male audience. The two Gorgons, on the center and left side of the painting, take up most of the painting’s composition. One Gorgon, facing the audience, fully displays her breasts, stomach, and legs. The other, turned the other way, completely exposes her buttocks. The primary focus of the audience’s gaze is directed at the nude figures, not Perseus. Even the headless Medusa’s corpse, on the bottom right corner, is still posed on its side for the audience’s observation. With the three naked Gorgons, the viewer sees a naked woman from almost every position, from the front, back, and side. In this painting, the female images have been sexualized, and dominated.

Ogden argues that the rising popularity of these images attests the desire of Victorian men to subjugate their female counterparts (151).

Other paintings depict women as “sexually pleasing, passive objects” which simultaneously indicate awareness of a male audience’s fears and fantasies. Joseph Kestner, in his book discussing gender issues within 19th British classical paintings, argues that “In

Victorian classical-subject canvases, women were continually represented in one or two ways: either as irresponsible, outcast, prostituted, vicious, sensuous . . . or as submissive, passive, forlorn, abject, somnolent.” By portraying women as sleeping, or dead, as the Medusa, Victorian artists were able to remove the power of the female gaze. In fact, direct gazes were so transgressive that they were considered indicators of prostitution within Victorian illustrations. In

11 The painting can be seen here: http://www.artrenewal.org/pages/artwork.php?artworkid=41472&size=large Chen 36 this historical instance, the gaze is socially attributed to sexual power, which should only be in the possession of the male. The image of sleeping, vulnerable women allowed men to view them as merely sexual spectacles instead of people who could be taken seriously within the intellectual or political realms (Ogden 153).

Lord Frederic Leighton, who openly opposed the women’s rights movement, was a figure famous for his pictures of reclining or sleeping women. The paintings Idyll, Summer Slumber, and Summer Moon all possess this similar theme. In his work Cymon and Iphigenia, the woman

Iphigenia sleeps outstretched in the middle of the painting while a man, Cymon, lurks in the shadows towards the right.12 With her stomach exposed and wearing a sheer dress that reveals every curve, Iphigenia is in a completely vulnerable position. The sleeping maiden is front and center of the image; the lightness of her clothing contrasts sharply with the dark background, immediately drawing the eye to her. Cymon, on the other hand, is shrouded in darkness, and is wearing a heavy cloak. Just like in The Death of the Medusa II, while there is a male spectator, he is fully clothed and to the side. The only person awake, he stands above the sleeping woman.

He is not the central subject of the painting, merely a figure for the audience to identify with.

We, too, are voyeurs, watching the unsuspecting Iphigenia sleep. Leighton’s choice of classical subject was perfect for the sake of once again depicting a sleeping female.

Of all Leighton’s paintings, the most famous is Flaming June. 13Painted on a square canvas, June is the only prominent subject of the painting. Once again, the woman is wearing only a sheer, clingy nightgown. In the fetal position, lying on her left side, her entire right side is prominently displayed for the audience to see, from her toe, up her thigh, to her exposed back, arm and breast. Presented for the viewing pleasure of the audience, June does not display any

12 This image can be seen here: http://www.victorianweb.org/painting/leighton/paintings/16 html 13 This image can be viewed here: http://nigeness.blogspot.com/2012/06/flaming-june.html Chen 37 awareness of being watched. The popularity of these images potentially attests to the power, and threatening nature of female gaze and awareness.

Victorian poems also similarly remove the power of the gaze from female figures. For instance, in “My Last Duchess” by Robert Browning, a jealous duke is insinuates that he has killed his young, beautiful wife for the act of looking: “She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.” While there was no evidence of adultery, the act of looking is sexually charged and transgressive, that the duke justifies his murder of her. With his wife dead, and her portrait hanging on the wall, hidden to the world, the duke finally has full domination and control of an otherwise autonomous human being. Only the duke can lift the curtain. The portrait’s gaze can only reach where the duke desires, while he can look upon her any time of his choosing.

Dante Rossetti’s Jenny, also reflects themes within Victorian paintings and describes a sleeping prostitute being observed by a male narrator. As Jenny sleeps during the entire poem, she is effectively silenced. The audience is completely unaware of her hopes or dreams or interests. She has no personality apart from the information provided by the narrator. Just as

Ogden articulates, Jenny is more passive object than living, moving, active woman.

Tennyson’s “Lancelot and Elaine,” in contrast, alters these conventions significantly.

While Elaine begins as a passive figure, she eventually gains the authority of the gaze as she becomes captivated by Lancelot’s appearance. For instance, when Elaine first meets Lancelot, she holds “her eyes upon the ground,” and is flustered at the conversation between her father Sir

Torre and Lancelot. Within their discussion about the tournament diamond, Elaine is referred to as “wilful” and a “simple maid” as opposed to a queen (143-144). In the middle of this deriding of Elaine’s character, she appears “flush’d” at the sound of her name being “so tost about” in the presence of a stranger. Here, Elaine is the subject of the conversation, yet she does not actively Chen 38 take part in the dialogue; she merely acts as a silent observer. Additionally, Lancelot is the one to first look at her, “full courtly, not falsely.” In response to his gaze and his defense of her, Elaine is described as being “won by the mellow voice.” It is in response to Lancelot’s actions that

Elaine begins the act of looking as she “lifted her eyes and read his lineaments” (144). Unlike a proper Victorian woman who might avert her eyes, Elaine raises her eyes and reads Lancelot’s face, which implies gazing upon Lancelot, studying him with great intensity and length of time.

While it is not apparent whether Elaine’s previous mildness in temperament is socialized or a product of her character, meeting Lancelot catalyzes a significant change in her behavior.

With some variation of “she lifted up her eyes” three times in the same passage,

Tennyson places great emphasis on Elaine’s visual assessment of Lancelot. While Tennyson spends time examining the reasons behind Lancelot’s strained face, he also spends time explaining what Elaine sees. In describing Lancelot, Tennyson writes, “However marr’d, of more than twice her years,/ Seam’d with an ancient sword-cut on the cheek,/ And bruised and bronzed,” the audience receives a detailed picture of what Elaine sees. With the detailed description of Lancelot’s face, he has become the love-object and the subject of the gaze. In this situation, we, the audience, identify with Elaine’s feminine gaze, rather than the voyeurism of a masculine one. While the audience is aware that Elaine is beautiful, she is not given the same treatment at this point in the story.

The second sequence with Elaine’s gaze is when she goes to bid her brother Lavaine and

Lancelot goodbye. Like the first scene, Elaine also demonstrates a shift from her usual persona as the meek maiden. Within the entire the idyll, Tennyson on the whole follows Elaine’s movements. Prior to the scene, Elaine is shown, “first as in fear,” walking hesitatingly step by step down the tower stairs to bid them farewell. Emerging from her tower, she hears Lancelot’s Chen 39 voice calling out to Lavaine and sees him beside his horse, smoothing “the glossy shoulder, humming to himself.” In response, Elaine is described as “half-envious of the flattering hand”

(146). As a result, the quiet, intimate details of Lancelot’s behavior are not only products of the narrator’s gaze, but Elaine’s. Once again, the audience is seeing through her eyes, not the male protagonist’s. Consequently, Tennyson temporarily reverses traditional gender roles by granting

Elaine the position of the hero who covertly gazes upon his unsuspecting love interest.14 This is evident, as during this sequence, Lancelot is completely unaware of Elaine’s presence before she draws nearer.

Soon after, the authority of the gaze partially returns to Lancelot. Looking upon her, he is

“more amazed/Than if seven men had set upon him.” Here, Elaine is depicted as in her soft glow or glamour shot, “standing in the dewy light.” While Elaine is essentially “standing in the spotlight” as the object of the gaze, Elaine nevertheless still differs significantly from the artistic depictions of Victorian as she gazes back at Lancelot with equal fixation, “rapt on his face as if it were a god’s” (146). There is no “stealing” of a gaze, which implies a lack of authority or ownership. Elaine does not demonstrate any shame or embarrassment for her gaze. In this way, she deviates drastically from the women in Victorian paintings. Within this scene, she is simultaneously the subject of a gaze and a voyeur.

Later, when her brother Lavaine tells her to return to bed, she disobeys momentarily to continue watching “their arms far-off/ sparkle, until they dipt below the downs.” At this point,

Elaine is described as having “her bright hair blown about the serious face/ Yet rosy-kindled

14 It is also interesting to note how both the title of the poem and the focus of the gaze reveal whom Tennyson upheld as the central protagonists of his piece. Once again, with Lancelot as the text’s primary male character, and his affair with the queen, one would expect that the primary focus of his gaze would be Guinevere. However, he is the midst of questioning their relationship, so Lancelot is not depicted within the poem as pausing to look upon his lover anytime.

Chen 40 with her brother’s kiss” (147). With Lancelot and her brother gone in the distance, the subjects of

Elaine’s gaze are once again unaware of her observation. However, the small, vivid details of

Elaine’s appearance are described for the audience, once again also marking her as a subject of the gaze as well.

When the character of Gawain appears in the tale, she is further objectified through his gaze. 15 Appearing to deliver Lancelot’s prize at the tournament, Gawain comes across Elaine.

Hearing of Lancelot’s injury, Elaine faints. Meanwhile, Gawain “gazed wonderingly at her.” In this sequence, Elaine is very briefly returned to the position of the subject, before she is revived.

Here, Gawain is the male spectator gazing upon an unconscious female subject. Described as a person of ill-repute, with “courtesy with a touch of traitor in it,” he casts his eyes on Elaine, thinking, “Where could be found face daintier? Then her shape/ From forehead down to foot, perfect – again/ From foot to forehead exquisitely turn’d.” Gawain’s captivated gaze memorizes

Elaine’s every detail, for what purpose? He states “Well – if I bide, lo! This wild flower for me!”

Gawain’s first impression is to somehow take Elaine into his possession through the work of his charm. The term “wild flower” works two-fold. As Arthur Simpson argues in his article “Elaine the Unfair, Elaine the Unlovable: The Socially Destructive Artist/Woman,” Gawain seems to be aware of Elaine’s lack of conventionality. Elaine is no domesticated flower, but somewhat wild and independent through her willfulness. Far from Camelot, she is rather untouched by court culture. However, comparing her to a passive, freestanding flower is also reductive. Just as some

Victorian men attempted to refocus attention on female artists as sexualized objects rather than creators of serious artwork, Gawain similarly sees Elaine as an unplucked flower. Even though

15 Although he is not traditionally cast as a “villainous” character, Tennyson paints Gawain unfavorably throughout the idylls. Gawain’s appearance in “Lancelot and Elaine” is fairly small, his behavior in this idyll is fairly consistent with his depiction as a lascivious character, which can be seen further in “Pelleas and Ettarre.” Chen 41 the audience does not get much of a sample of Gawain’s flattering words, we do get a sense of his talk when Elaine questions Gawain about his responsibilities. He answers, “I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven,/ O damsel, in the light of your blue eyes” (153). Apparently, Gawain thinks that complimenting Elaine’s beauty will win her heart. Regardless of Gawain’s vain efforts, his speech does offer just another glimpse at Elaine’s physical appearance, which is not described in great detail before. Assuming Gawain is not exaggerating, (which he very well might,) we gain a bit of imagery. Elaine’s eyes are blue like the sky, a detail we would have missed without Gawain’s voice. Just as the concept enargeia described earlier on in the passage,

Gawain’s excessive focus on Elaine’s beauty causes him to overlook the qualities in her character that Tennyson carefully describes for his audience. Somewhat to Gawain’s loss, it is

Elaine’s physical appearance alone that interests Gawain, not her personality.

While Elaine can do little to thwart Gawain’s roaming eyes, unlike the paintings The

Death of Medusa II by Sir Edward Burne-Jones and Cymon and Iphigenia by Lord Frederic

Leighton, Idylls of the King does not call for the reader to sympathize or identify with the male spectator, the roguish Gawain.16 Through this incident, Tennyson creates an interesting situation where the sexualization of female artists can be openly critiqued.

To recapitulate, unlike the women of Leighton’s paintings, Elaine is alert and observant, making her a more dynamic figure than the passive sleepers in other works of Victorian art and poetry. Through the implied desire of the gaze, Elaine is far from the sexless Angel in the House.

Tennyson’s inclusion of Elaine’s interaction with Gawain also interestingly reflects how female artists struggled to gain acceptance within the Victorian community. Often trivialized due to their

16 Gawain is depicted as a deceitful scoundrel throughout the Idylls. In Pelleas and Ettarre, Gawain tells the love- struck Pelleas that he will help him win the lady Ettarre’s heart. Instead, Gawain goes to Ettarre’s castle and claims that he has killed Pelleas, stealing away the lady Ettarre’s affections for himself. Thus, Gawain is painted as an untrustworthy, disreputable, lusty fellow. Chen 42 gender, they often struggled to gain legitimacy and respect from their male peers. As a result,

“Lancelot and Elaine” provides numerous moments that challenge Victorian sensibilities with regards to the appropriateness of the female gaze.

Leaving the Private Sphere

The last characteristic that defines Elaine is her disregard for the boundaries between the public and private sphere. Throughout the idyll, Elaine is shown to desire moving beyond the scope of her home. Unlike the Angel of the House, who is content in her domesticity, Elaine demonstrates a longing to feel and experience sensations outside her own small world. When she is unable to physically leave, she uses the force of her own imagination to transport her outside.

When the reader is first introduced to Elaine at the beginning of the idyll, she is in the midst of admiring Lancelot’s shield in the privacy of her room. Describing her tower as “high” and to the

“east,” Tennyson emphasizes her physical distance and isolation from the world (138). Like the

Lady of Shalott, Elaine is an observer of the business of the male-dominated world, not an active participant. Removing the cover and reading the naked shield, she touches the dints and scratches while conjuring up vivid scenes of danger, excitement, and violence. Although Elaine could have easily imagined something more domestic, Elaine utilizes her fantasies to travel beyond the borders of her isolated tower, allowing her the agency to engage and participate in a world from which she would normally be excluded.

As the idyll progresses, Elaine becomes increasingly bolder in venturing outside the domestic sphere. When she learns of Lancelot’s injury from Gawain, she requests her father’s permission to tend to Lancelot alone. Elaine’s desire to leave the domestic sphere is met with resistance and the disapproval of her father. Nevertheless, unlike traditional women within Chen 43

Arthurian legends, Elaine does not silently concede to her father’s wishes; instead, he will bend to the strength of her own. Sitting on his knee, stroking his gray face, submitting a proposal of her motive and activities, even at her young age, Elaine’s acts of submissiveness are highly performative, as she knows he will eventually give in to her persistence. In this moment, she is not subservient to the patriarchal figure in her life; she openly subverts social norms and acts independently.

Once Elaine finally sets out to find Lancelot, Tennyson writes how Elaine must ride “o’vr the long backs of the bushless downs.” Through these words, Tennyson emphasizes the distance

Elaine must travel to reach her destination. Elaine, as describing her desires to her father, considers delivering the diamond a quest. This journey is greater than a walk in a park; for

Elaine, it is an expedition into the unknown. Similarly, when Elaine finds Lancelot’s cave,

Tennyson writes:

Then rose Elaine and glided thro’ the fields,

And past beneath the weirdly-sculptured gates

Far up the dim rich city to her kin;

There bode the night, but woke with dawn, and past

Down thro’ the dim rich city to the fields,

Thence to the cave. So day by day she past

In either twilight ghost-like to and fro

Gliding, and every day she tended him,

And likewise many a night. (157)

Here, the first two lines highlight Elaine’s mobility outside the domestic space. From

Tennyson’s description, Elaine glides through the fields, completely uninhibited. Going beyond Chen 44 the “weirdly-sculptured gates,” Tennyson draws attention to how the physical divisions between the private and public sphere are unable to prevent Elaine from reaching her beloved. Returning every day back to her kin, Elaine is shown to be negotiating her place between both realms. With the phrase “day by day” and “to and fro,” Elaine is shown to be continuously breaking the boundaries between the separate spheres. In fact, just like a “ghost,” Elaine is beyond the rules upheld by human society; no walls can keep her in or out.

Tennyson then describes the conditions Elaine endures. Lancelot is “brain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem uncourteous” (158). The term “uncourteous” also indicates that the conditions appear unsuitable for a maiden used to the cloistered, respectable culture of her castle.

Regardless of these facts, Elaine continues to tend to Lancelot each and every day.

Although Elaine displays her disregard for the separate spheres throughout the idyll, these earlier actions are relatively mild in comparison to her final act of transgression: her open proclamation of her emotions in the public sphere. One Victorian writer, named Sarah Stickney

Ellis, in a book entitled The Daughters of England; Their Position in Society, Character and

Responsibility (1842) expresses disapproval for women seeking fame for their artistic talents.

Calling this ambition “a product of folly,” Ellis elaborates on the distastefulness of exchanging art for money: “Could those young aspirants known how little real dignity there is connected with the trade of authorship, their harps would be exchanged for distaffs17, their rose-tinted paper would be converted into ashes, and their Parnassus18 would dwindle to a molehill.” In Ellis’ eyes, just as female bodies belong in the home, female writing likewise is only appropriate to be shared beside “the homely hearth.” She continues by claiming “literature is not the natural channel for a woman’s feelings; and pity, not envy, ought to be the meed of her who writes for

17 A distaff is a staff used for winding wool and flax while spinning. 18 Parnassus was a mountain in Greek mythology said to be sacred to the nine Muses who inspire the arts. Chen 45 the public.” A woman’s writing should belong in the home, not “blazoned – to the world” (605­

606).

As a female artist, and very hungry for recognition, Elaine has violated all the precedents set by Ellis. Unlike Ellis’ assertions, Tennyson depicts Elaine as being compelled to create art during every aspect of her life. Weaving a silk case for Lancelot’s shield at the beginning, composing and performing a song of sorrow after her rejection, and even artistically imagining

Lancelot in the middle, Elaine artistically infuses her whole life in her own personal, multi­ talented way. Even though Elaine is never paid monetarily for any of her work, which seems to be a focal point of Ellis’ objection to female publication, she still very boldly pierces through the private/public divide, just as the Lady of Shalott does. When Elaine is rejected, she communicates her sorrow to everyone. Speaking to her family about her funeral plans, Elaine boldly announces:

There will I enter in among them all,

And no man there will dare to mock at me;

But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me,

And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at me,

Gawain, who bade a thousand farewells at me,

Lancelot, who coldly went, nor bad me one.

And there the King will know me and my love,

And there the Queen herself will pity me,

And all the gentle court will welcome me,

And after my long voyage I shall rest. 162 Chen 46

Elaine, in every aspect of the phrase, intends to be the center of attention. Elaine, richly decked like a queen, through the physical arrangement of her body and her letter, would declare her own belief in her self-worth to a society that had once “predoom’d . . . as unworthy,” with Lancelot having “stoop’d so low” to potentially love her (155). Here, Elaine’s suicide acts as a visible statement intending to evoke particular emotional responses. Listing the attendees within her audience, Elaine has a very clear vision of her ideal reception. Mockery will be replaced with wonderment and quiet musing. She will be pitied and welcomed; only then, she can finally rest.

Perpetually trivialized due to her youth, her gender, and her social standing, Elaine takes action to shape her public perception by orchestrating her presentation at court. In this way, Elaine deviates significantly from the modest Victorian girl who might silently deal with her emotions in private, rather than raise a fuss.

Not only does Elaine have the gall to declare her woeful love life to all of Camelot, she successfully achieves her goal of stirring up the public. As Elaine’s funeral barge arrives in

Camelot, “All up the marble stair, tier over tier,/ Were added mouths that gaped, and eyes that ask’d/ ‘What is it?’” (167). The mute oarsman is unable to relay any information to the questioning public. Elaine’s choice of an escort further intensifies her reception, as his “haggard face,/ As hard and still as is the face that men/ Shape to their fancy’s eye from broken rocks/ On some cliff-side appall’d them” (167). The unlikely pair is so foreign to the eyes of Camelot that they both seem enchanted, as if from another world. Elaine the artist, with her body as her chosen medium, has wowed the crowd. Even without a concrete explanation of her presence, from the very sight of her, Gawain wonders, Lancelot muses, and the Queen pities. Elaine the artistic genius has elicited every single response she desired, from every single individual she had named. At the reading of her letter, the crowd breaks down and weeps for a girl they had Chen 47 once demeaned. As Elisabeth Bronfen argues in Over Her Dead Body: Death, Femininity and the Aesthetic, “By transforming suicide into an act of self-textualisation, Elaine at last controls her own life and insists on the public recognition of her love denied to her during her lifetime”

(130). It is this particular insistence on societal recognition that sets Elaine apart from the Angel in the House.

Towards her death, Elaine tells her family of her desire to “pass beyond the cape/ That has the poplar on it” outside of the limits her father had placed for her (162). As a result, through

Elaine’s death and life, it is evidenced that Elaine was a woman who was constantly pushing the boundaries of her personal sphere. Although sexually pure and faithful, her ambitiousness sets her apart from the Angel in the House, ideal Victorian woman.

Chen 48

Conclusion: Moving Forward

So what potential effect did Elaine have on Victorian audiences? In spite of the widespread popularity of the poem The Angel of the House (1854), there were still numerous

Victorian critics that found the figure of the perfect angel inane and uncaptivating. An 1858 article in the North British Review named Honoria, the wife in The Angel of the House,

“prudish” and “petty.” The author’s overall assessment of the poem was that: ““Mr. Patmore seems to us to take at once an exaggerated view of woman’s natural graces, and a very depreciating view of their capacities for growth.” Essentially, the saintly Angel of the House was a one-dimensional archetype that alienated some Victorian readers.

Another writer, this time criticizing Charles Dickens’ character Esther Summerson in his novel Bleak House, considered her “over-perfect.” Bentley’s Miscellany published a similar article which mentioned how “A little more strength of character would not be objectionable – even in a wife.” Overall, Victorian writers faced a dilemma: while the angel of the house was a culturally accepted figure, she made a very bland, uninteresting heroine in most stories. Any activity that would show strength of mind or character would immediately remove the heroine from her status as selfless, angelic perfection. However, if she should remain ‘perfect,’ she is then labeled “a small-minded bore” (Helsinger 84).

One article published in The Edinburgh Review in 1854, argues that Thackeray’s Amelia in Vanity Fair is “agreeable as a plaything, and useful as a slave; but playthings and slaves are not what men look for in wives. They want partners of their cares . . . and companions in their pursuits. To represent a pretty face, an affectionate disposition, and a weak intellect as together constituting the most attractive of women, is a libel on both sexes.” In this case, the author Chen 49 ventures beyond literary criticism to comment on Victorian social understandings of women’s roles.

Sensation novels, which began to be popular during the 1860’s, also challenged the

Angel of the House archetype in literature. One defining feature of sensation novels was the fact that women were greatly involved in every aspect of their production. Women were writing, consuming, and critiquing these novels, which cast women in central roles that deviated significantly from sweet angels. As a result, these works presented women that were a brazen alternative to the domestic ideal. As Elizabeth Helsinger summarizes in The Woman Question,

“How satisfactory can traditional roles be if adultery, bigamy, and spouse-killing captivate millions of readers?” (125)

Justin MacCarthy in the Westminster Review (1864) writes,

There is no good end attained by trying to persuade ourselves that women are all

incorporeal, angelic, colourless, passionless, helpless creatures, who are never to

suspect anything, never to doubt anyone, who regard the whole end and passion

of human life as ethereal, Platonic love, and orderly, parent-sanctioned wedlock.

Instead of rendering them as “shrewd, self-reliant and strong,” MacCarthy criticizes Victorian literature for depicting women as “helpless, imbecile, and idiotic.” Quipping about the “prudish scream” that rose up against Charlotte Brontë, he describes the Victorian public as welcoming rebellion against weak, passionless depictions of women. Great novelists, to MacCarthy, must courageously write about the “great problems of existence” and describe “human creatures,” not caricatures.

Another article in the Times of London (1862), reviewing Lady Audley’s Secret, described the pleasure in reading about women who were “high strung . . . full of passion, purpose, and Chen 50 movement” and thereby potentially “very liable to error.” While not all critics embraced sensation novels quite equally, authors who ventured to capture the Angel of the House feminine ideal were not embraced as warmly as before. Margaret Oliphant, for instance, was very vocal about the

“unsexed” depiction of heroines in women’s fiction. In describing the author Edward Bulwer-

Lytton, who she considered the greatest Victorian novelist, she even critiques him by commenting on his depiction of women by saying “the tone strikes us as a little out of keeping with the times . .

. In fact his conception of female excellence tastes a little of the old school . . . Not that our author denies intellect to women, but he regards it as a misfortune” (Helsinger 136). To Oliphant, Bulwer-

Lytton was only capable of drawing abstractions of women, rather than fully colored, developed female characters. However, Oliphant’s note implies a changing direction in Victorian fiction.

Even if perfect, angelic women were still emerging within literature, there was still an army of critics clamoring for change and new direction.

Overall, the Victorian era was rife with controversy regarding the Woman Question, which spawned a multitude of voices and literature responding to the issue. Like Elizabeth

Helsinger’s assessment, Tennyson as a Victorian writer, was challenged with creating a character that was pleasant enough for audiences to like, yet not alienating due to inane, over-perfection.

Through the character of Elaine, Tennyson was able to reach a delicate middle ground. Always sensitive to his critics, Tennyson’s moderate social commentary would likewise emerge through the themes of his works. In a sense, the balance Tennyson presented and his fame as Poet

Laureate made Idylls of the King the most purchased book of its time (with The Angel in the

House trailing close behind.)

Tennyson’s moderate writings have sparked the ire of many feminist critics. Based off of

Charlotte Bunch’s model for feminist theory, Tennyson does fall flat in numerous areas. Chen 51

Although he paints a very detailed and psychologically complex description of women’s situation in his works, he has trouble providing analysis, vision, or strategy. Tennyson likewise plays with the Angel of the House convention by giving Elaine a number of culturally desirable elements, such as feminine beauty, devotion to loved ones, and sexual purity. Juxtaposed with

Guinevere the “bad girl,” Elaine takes central stage as the heroine of the story.

However, Tennyson’s choice in Elaine as the ideal figure becomes more complicated when historical research reveals the transgressiveness of Elaine’s actions. As a burgeoning artist with a fruitful imagination, Elaine openly contradicts Victorian writers who insisted that women were simply meant to be muses, not creators. Elaine’s gaze upon Lancelot completely reverses the well-established gender roles of women as visual subject and men as voyeur. Elaine’s venturing outside the domestic sphere to share her story likewise subverts the divide between the public and private sphere. Through these ways, Elaine as a character rebelled against numerous social understandings of the Victorian era. Elaine, Tennyson’s chosen heroine is unashamed of her own passions. If I had more time, it would be interesting to examine how Tennyson’s writings may have affected young readers of that age. Was King Arthur’s medieval realm, a place of fantasy, remote enough to prevent criticism of Elaine’s behavior? In order to answer this question, research involving published reviews and even perhaps existing personal journals and letters in response to Idylls of the King would be necessary.

Tennyson’s gender politics will probably continue to be debated, for as long as he is read.

While some critics may view Elaine’s behaviors as stilted and exaggerated from our modern point of view, a cultural understanding of the Victorian era provides a much more in depth understanding of Elaine’s oddities and potential subversions.

Chen 52

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