In his preliminary letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, Edmund Spenser sets out his intention in constructing The Faerie Queene as an allegory. His goal, he writes, is to “form a gentleman or a noble person into virtuous or gentle discipline,” he continues; the knights in each book depict a journey to respective states of virtue and Spenser's reimagining of the mythological Arthur before his kingship embodies the primordial state of ethical coherence or "magnificence" that his fictional knights and his reader must achieve. strive to achieve. reach. The virtues described derive from Aristotle and, by overcoming the vices he encounters along the way, each knight achieves a state of virtue that evokes those fixed in Nichomaeus ethics. Yet they also align Spenser with the courtly literature of the 16th and 17th centuries. The Book of the Courtier of Castiglione sets out, by way of example, the models of behavior and social conduct to which the nobility must adhere and cultivate. However, if like Castiglione's model, Spenser's poem is effective through its transparency, why this elaborate detour through allegory? Because allegory communicates things that other media cannot communicate? Spenser's reason advocates the "pleasure" of reading "good discipline clearly presented in the form of precepts" (P. 16), but the very act of constructing a letter of explanation recognizes the difficulties posed by allegory. The fact that the poem can present its meaning "wrapped in allegory" recurs as both a lure and an anxiety throughout Spenser's letter. He immediately demonstrates a delight in the complex threads and narrative structure of allegory and recognizes the unethical potential of writing whose meaning is not always what it seems. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original essay “appearing” rather than “being” recurs in The Faerie Queene as a constant problem for its characters. Spencer's depiction continually returns to the deceptive, often complex surfaces and facades that mask hidden corruption. Perhaps one of the clearest examples of this is found in the “filthy witch” Duessa. Duessa permeates the first book of the poem in the guise of a beautiful woman; determined to deceive and destroy the Knight of the Red Cross from his path to “Holiness” (Preliminary Letter, p.16). What Duessa “seems” to be moves from one song to the next. Spenser pays particular attention to her costume clothing when she introduces her character to the narrative: A good lady clad in scarlet, Purfled with gold and pearls of rich range, And like a Persian miter on her hedShe wore, with crowns and decorated owches, The which his sumptuous renters grant him; (I, II,13.) "red", "gold", "miter", "crowns", Spenser's verbs pay attention to the external appearance of his character. As emphasized by the color of her robe and golden miter, Duessa is a thinly veiled representation of the Roman Catholic Church, and the implication that her "goodness" derives from her material dress offers an ironic, albeit well-received, aside. worn. to the reader. However, what is more interesting about Spenser's stanza is the way in which the language of his description participates in both the disguise and stripping away of Duessa's true nature. Unlike the Red Cross Knight who allows himself to be deceived by his appearance, Spenser leaves clear signals in his language that point to the “dirt” that lies beneath the surface; the “garlands” of his horse’s bridle – with all its connotations of artifice and dressCatholic, are an example. This is affirmed in Canto VIII in which she is stripped of her dress to reveal a "monstrous" deformity and "secret filth" (I, VIII, 46.) and is thrown into the desert. The reader must then perceive and avoid the attraction of his character if he does not want to fall into the same trap as Spenser's knight. Spenser's basic principle seems simple; these characters whoThe excesses in their external appearance often mark a hidden internal deficiency. In many ways this corresponds to the Aristotelian virtue ethics model referenced in the poem's prefatory letter; figuratively speaking, the Knight of the Red Cross must draw a clear line between the vices of deficiency and excess in order to achieve a holistic moral state. The dichotomy between deficiency and excess recurs several times throughout the first book. In Canto IV, Queen Lucifera surpasses the "glittering gold and matchless precious stone" of her throne with her own "bright and blazing beauty." Yet, like Duessa's hidden, disfigured form, a dragon lurks beneath her "contemptuous feet." Spenser's architectural spaces often display a dueling nature. His description of Lucifera's castle provides a good example: a majestic palace built of square bricks, which was artfully laid without mortar, whose walls were high but nothing strong or thick, and gold leaf exposed everywhere. (I, IV, 4) If Duessa's dress masks a hidden and corrupted form, Lucifera's castle appears to be only a facade; the building lacks foundations and its architectural ornament seems built for itself. Spenser's language has a similar texture; rich in assonance, it is pleasant both sonically and in the imagery it evokes. Spenser's language corresponds to the subject described; its rhymes are balanced and contribute to the rhetorical shift between binaries orchestrated by the stanza; The terms “square brick” and “strong and thick” are counterbalanced by “without mortar laid” and the fragile “sheet” “exposed”. Like the castle described, the stanza is elegant and well crafted. This parallel between the description and the thing described is intriguing; this denotes linguistic attention to ornament; this alludes to the emptiness of meaning. Spenser's conception of his poems as "wrapped in allegorical devices" parallels this idea – consciously or not. “Enveloped” is a slippery metaphor; it simultaneously suggests the interior and the exterior. The word both points to a fundamental meaning or truth and describes an outer shell. The idea that Spenser's language could "roughly" reveal the truth with his style is dubious, and that the writing of such a Protestant man could unintentionally border on mindless ornament even more so. To some extent, the debate over form and content comes into play again. The debate has traditionally separated the outer shell of style from the inner stuff of thought; a now well-worn suggestion. In writing about the human faculty of judgment, Francis Bacon considers the possibilities of formal style to obscure and alter the meaning of the words expressed. According to Bacon, “a delight in style and phrase, and an admiration for this kind of writing,” led men to “study words and not matter.” He continues; the “gentle fall of the clauses” and the “illustration” offered by the “tropes and figures” undermine the “weight of the material, the value of the subject, the solidity of the argument, the life of the "invention or the depth of judgment of a piece of writing". Emptiness of meaning is not Bacon's only concern; it gives the words themselves a sinister power when they impose upon the judgment of their creators; like “the arc of aTartarus”, they “tighten the intelligence of the wisest, and powerfully confuse and pervert judgment”. It’s intriguing; Bacon not only advocates clarity of style, he also calls for careful reading and warns against misinterpretations. It is worth considering Spenser's choice of "Clever" in his description of Lucifera's castle. The word describes the enchantment by which the bricks are constructed and connotes trickery; deception. Spenser immediately aligns his writing with a beautiful architectural space and recognizes the potential for words to mislead and be misinterpreted. In his book-length study of Spenser's allegorical rhetoric, Michael Murrin exposes the difficult ways in which rhetoric and allegory intersect throughout much Renaissance thought. For Murrin, “the allegorical poet” was frequently “invited to perform the function of orator”; offering clarity of meaning in the genre of allegory. Yet, as Murrin points out, clarity and allegory rarely go hand in hand. This request for a duel from the poet “strikes at the heart of the confusion between oratory and poetry”; poetry is notoriously ambiguous, oratory relies on clarity of speech. Murrin's observation returns to the point made in Spenser's introductory letter; the intention of his allegory is to provide a model of ethics challenged by its own narrative structure; oration is based on clear speech and allegory is concerned with ambiguity. But at the same time, it is expected to have some definable truth or value within it. It is as if Spenser's poem is caught between the desire to say something paraphrasable, transitive, and moral and a narrative structure that makes any such careful expression with its shifting "allegorical devices" impossible. Bacon's essay emphasizes the importance of reader interpretation. The Faerie Queene fits this; Throughout the six books, Spenser's characters must observe, choose and act according to their interpretation of a situation and therefore according to their moral judgment. At the heart of it all is the notion of work and active engagement in moral choices. Before presenting Lucifera's castle, Spencer issues a warning: "Beware of fraud, beware of inconstancy" (I, IV, 1) The warning is addressed to the "Young Knight", but it also concerns the reader . Throughout the poem, the reader must focus on the processes of observation, distinction, and finally preference; the complexity of Spenser's narrative thread demands the kind of attention and awareness that he inspires his character to apply to moral decision-making. Like the knights in each book, the reader must constantly evaluate the ethical significance of the characters with whom he expresses sympathy. In many ways, this active engagement with characters and moral choices corresponds to the "two lures" of the allegory, as represented by Jonathan Goldberg. In a footnote to his chapter on "Others, Desire and the Self" within The Fairy Queen, he sets out the following premise: "The allegory offers the reader two lures." The first “is the set of characters who act in the text”; their actions often serve the story at hand and it is possible for the reader to respond to the characters as if they were people. “This,” writes Goldberg, “is the attraction of the proper name, according to Barthes’ term.” The second illusion is that of allegory; “the possibility of substituting an abstraction for a name or a character, thus leaving aside the narrative and its characters in favor of meaning. » In many ways, the two are linked; Spenser's characters are figures whose pronounced characteristics are engaging but at the same time nothing comes.