Reviewed by: Women Writers and Nineteenth-Century Medievalism Richard Cronin (bio) Women Writers and Nineteenth-Century Medievalism, by Clare Broome Saunders; pp. xiii + 230. Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, £45.00, $79.95. Clare Broome Saunders, in the first book-length study of Victorian women writers and medievalism, argues that the medieval trappings allowed “the forbidden to be said without censure” (8). Saunders perhaps overstates the case when she suggests that almost any contribution to public debate by a woman was regarded as an act of trespass. Susannah Dobson, for example, may well have introduced into her translations from [End Page 138] the French troubadours a “critique of the Catholic Church” (21), but it is hard to believe that in 1779, and for the century thereafter, such a critique, even by a woman, would not have been widely welcomed even if it had been published undisguised. Saunders rightly focuses on more controversial public interventions: for women writers medievalism was, she claims, a “useful screen for subversion” (27). Again, however, the claim needs to be modified. In a fascinatingly wide-ranging chapter on representations of Joan of Arc in the period she describes Joan’s “role as active martial woman” as “exploding all aspects of chivalry” (102), but active martial women are prominent in the chivalric epic from its outset. One thinks of Torquato Tasso’s Clorinda, Ludovico Ariosto’s Bradamante, and Edmund Spenser’s Britomart, or, even further back, Virgil’s Camilla. A woman in arms secures rather than threatens the chivalric code provided that the phenomenon is presented as anomalous. In an absorbing chapter on “War, Medievalism, and the Woman Writer,” Felicia Hemans and Laetitia Landon are represented similarly as smuggling anti-war sentiment into work designed to secure “commercial success” by disguising it in medieval garb (42). A male reviewer of Landon’s in the Westminster Review complained that her poetry confirmed gender stereotypes: “In fact,” Saunders replies, “Landon’s objective is to highlight” the unequal treatment of the sexes (50). What kind of a fact is this, however, if Landon is anxious to safeguard her commercial success by veiling her view of the matter from her more conservative readers? Can medievalism really allow Hemans at once to “tap into public feeling to increase financial success” (42), and to bring to the attention of a thoughtlessly patriotic readership the human cost of military glory? It may be, of course, that Hemans and Landon succeed in addressing two different readerships simultaneously. Saunders recalls how Elizabeth Barrett Browning chose the title Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850) so that the public might take as translations poems that her husband would understand quite differently, “the Portuguese” being his nickname for her. It is almost certainly true that such subterfuges were a more important resource for women writers in the nineteenth century than for their male counterparts, but again the issue is complicated: Barrett Browning would have known very well that one of the distinguishing characteristics of the sonnet sequence is the simultaneous address to an intimate private circle and to a public readership. The double meaning of her title is a device by which she at once acknowledges the difficulty of appropriating a male form and demands her place within the tradition, alongside Dante and Petrarch and Sidney and Shakespeare. The virtues of Saunders’s book are less apparent in its thesis (I am not sure that she ever quite succeeds in defining a type of Victorian medievalism peculiar to women writers) than in the rich variety of the material that she uncovers. Her enthusiasms are always pushing against the boundaries of her chosen theme. So, in her chapter on “Romance, Gender, and the Crimean,” she overflows into a more general account of women’s responses to the war than could have been expected. Saunders offers us a fine sketch of Florence Nightingale and her nurses and of Barrett Browning’s splendidly acidic response: “Every man is on his knees before ladies carrying lint” (qtd. in Saunders 61). There is a striking account of the monumental Crimean paintings by Lady Butler so admired in the 1870s, and I was very grateful to have been introduced to a poem entirely unknown...
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