Immediately, we can see the issue quite clearly; she's out late at night attending to her own business, independent of her lover/husband, and quite free to do whatever she likes, whereas the man is at home, tending the hearth, eagerly awaiting her return. This seems as if it's a flip-flop of what was generally expected in Victorian society's social spheres. The man is supposed to be the dominant figure, while the woman is submissive to her man's will. Browning makes the swapped roles quite clear when the woman arrives home (if her being out by herself wasn't enough):
She put my arm about her waist, | |
And made her smooth white shoulder bare, | |
And all her yellow hair displaced, | |
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, |
In these lines, we can see how dominant she is; she's controlling his body and making him do things. He's showing his submission to her by allowing her to place his arm around her waist and making his cheek lie on her shoulder. This is the exact opposite of what one would expect to see in the typical Victorian home. And we can implicitly feel how sullen the narrator is that she's so independent and in control of the situation.
Once Porphyria confesses her love for the narrator, she finally expresses the kind of dependence the narrator desires. In this moment, the narrator decides that he wants to maintain that sort of dependence forever. He strangles her, effectively freezing her in time. After this, we can see the reestablishment of the social norms:
I propp'd her head up as before, | |
Only, this time my shoulder bore | 50 |
Her head, which droops upon it still: | |
The smiling rosy little head, | |
So glad it has its utmost will, | |
That all it scorn'd at once is fled, | |
And I, its love, am gain'd instead! | 55 |
In this scenario, the narrator is making her head lie upon his shoulder, the direct opposite of what was previously made. She, now, was reliant on him, and he was in control of her. This, according to the narrator, is how the relationship between and a man and woman should be. There is not a mutual domination; only the man has the power to decide what happens. He reinforces his belief that what he did was right, ending the poem with a reference to a power higher than social influences: God. He says that, "God has not said a word!"(60), effectively providing proof that this is what God wants. He didn't object to what the man did because it was right. And if it's good enough for God, it's good enough for him.
You bring up a very good point about how this poem chooses to portray gender roles.
ReplyDeleteThe poem can be seen as a warning of sorts, stating, "If you don't heed the message of this poem, young lady, and if you become forward with your lover, he may just put you in your place."
It is of note that in the beginning of the poem, the man essentially tells the reader how he feels emasculated by Porphyria's actions. I suppose a man in this time period would feel humiliated and would believe that he has no choice but to turn the tables in this way. A man's ego can lead them to do unreasonable actions for the sake of inner peace. Still, it is quite an act for a desperate man.
It is interesting how the poem might operate as a warning to women even while it is critical of the male speaker (who after all becomes a murderer!). We can see this critique in the dramatic irony at the end of the poem. As Stephen observes, "God has not said a word!" For the speaker this might be reassuring, but for the audience it is a sign of his own self-delusion (and perhaps anxiety?). The poem surely condemns him, but as Christine suggests its primary audience might be a female one--women who are warned of the consequences of sexuality, desire, and autonomy.
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