Class Blog – Page 11 – Victorian Sexualities

Sex-ploration in the Victorian Era

The Victorian era is often characterized by sexual prudishness, however, what many do not understand that it was actually an age of sexual exploration, or sex-ploration. In her article Victorian Sexualities, Holly Furneaux disembowels this stereotype by explaining that Victorians explored sex “in a wide range of contexts including the law, medicine, religion, education”(Furneaux). However, it is important to keep in mind that this sexual exploration was only to a certain extent: there were no circulating copes of Fifty Shades of Grey to read or raunchy Nicki Minaj songs to listen to, and that overtly discussing sex and sexuality was still taboo.

What I found particularly interesting was the mentioning of the sexual exploration pertaining to the field of science and medicine. After reading her article, I am convinced that these ‘scientific’ discoveries involving sexuality at first glance seem progressive, given the inherent prudishness of the Victorian era, but instead only work to reinforce gender stereotypes. For example, Victorian gynecologist William Acton claimed that “the majority of women (happily for them) are not very much troubled by sexual feelings of any kind” (Furneaux), thus reinforcing the stereotype and common-held belief at the time that women are not sexual beings in the way that men are. Aside from the field of medicine, Furneaux also mentions that legislation, such as the Matrimonial Act of 1857 also reinforced these stereotypes, by making it much more difficult for women to divorce their adulterous husbands than it was for men to divorce their adulterous wives.

Aside from science and legislation, I did not find an adequate discussion of the topic literature in the article. From what we have read in class, I have found that literature, such as The Woman in White, have pushed the boundaries of sexuality much more than the scientific discoveries or new legislation. Much of The Woman in White is written in sort of a coded language, due to social norms preventing an overt discussion of sexuality or publishing a smutty novel, which allows for a more discreet yet honest exploration of sexuality. The novel features a multitude of characters that challenge the polarizing gender stereotypes of the Victorian era: such as the masculine, mustache-bearing Marian Halcombe and the possibly homosexual Mr. Fairlie. While there were ‘scientific’ discoveries regarding sex, I still believe that much of the conversation regarding sexuality remained repressed; and that this repression manifested itself in works of literature. These latent explorations of sexuality present in literature such as The Woman in White demonstrate that despite new discoveries on the topic of sex and sexuality in the fields of science and legislation, literature allowed for a more honest and in-depth discussion of sexuality and perhaps even questioned the polarizing gender stereotypes of the time.

Gendered Futures: The Limits of Female Desire in the Victorian Era

The etching “Looking into the Future” by the Illman brothers depicts a woman kneeling by a window with her hands clasped, face turned up and out towards the sun, which presumably is the source of light bathing her clothing and face. The pose is strongly reminiscent of kneeling to pray, which would suggest that she is not only looking to the future but hoping to better her future by making requests of God. The specific future she imagines is unknown to the viewer and must, therefore, be assumed or imposed upon her, which relates to ideas described in the article “Gender roles in the 19th century” by Kathryn Hughes. In the article, Hughes discusses the stigma against women displaying their desires, sexual or for activities outside of the usual realm of women’s duties. The female subject of the etching, therefore, has no agency to display her own desires. Even the title, “Looking into the future,” is so vague as to say nothing whatsoever to differentiate this woman from any other. No one else should know her specific desires for the future because anything outside of the home would be considered deviant.

Because of the strict gender roles during the Victorian era, all that was left for women was to dream of a future, with no agency to decide their own lives. The expectation was to marry and have children, and few alternatives were considered legitimate, as is exemplified by Florence Nightingale’s outbursts because of her unrealized desires to be useful. The only option in the limited world of a woman was to gaze outward and upward to God, dreaming of a future beyond a contained life like the one shown visually by the walls of the woman’s home.

This interpretation, however, would not have been the assumed one at the time. The well-covered woman has soft lines forming her face and a brightness in her face and clothes, showing her chastity and respectability. She appears gentle and feminine. Likely, the interpretation at the time would have been that she hopefully awaits her life in the home, or prays for the future health and prosperity of her family. What, we might wonder, would this etching look like were a man the subject, looking to his own future? Would the title even remain the same, or would a man’s entire approach to the future be so radically different that he would take action rather than passively anticipating his life? Would he be making decisions, assertively, with a range of possibilities available?

The article initially announced itself as describing gender roles during the time period and then, to my surprise, devoted itself almost entirely to the role of women, with only a few sentences in comparison devoted men. This idea that describing gender roles can be accomplished only through looking at women reminded me of the concept that men are a blank slate, the norm, whereas women are the deviation from the norm that inherently must be imbued with meaning, instead of merely describing each as normal though distinct in the context of a limited gender binary. I should acknowledge, then, that either my interpretation of the etching or the etching itself conforms to this belief as well, saying that the meaning is inherently altered by virtue of the gender of the subject. I have to wonder whether the message of a gender-flipped version of the etching could have been the same in that era, or if the assumption of male normalcy was so ingrained that it would never be possible.

Yes or No? (or, That Candle is Uncomfortably Close to All That Paper)

(Image: Yes or No? Illman Brothers, 19th century. n/a, n.d)

The above engraving depicts a woman in relatively typical Victorian fashion, laboring over some correspondence with an unknown conversational partner. The woman is surrounded by scraps of paper, most likely torn up by her as she tries to answer the question posed by the title of the piece: Yes or No?

Given the typical subject matter of the time period, it is likely she is corresponding with a suitor or lover–a man of some description. Before the woman is a box, filled with both paper and strings of beads. This seems to be some sort of storage container for precious objects. Clearly, the letters she is agonizing over mean a lot to her, enough that she would store them with her jewelry (the most prized possession of many women of both that time period and today). The presence of a four-poster bed in the background of the image, as well as a modesty screen suggests that the lady is writing in her own bedroom, the ultimate area of privacy. This suggests that this correspondence is either something she would prefer to hide, or something she feels is important enough to want absolute privacy as she makes up her mind as to the answer to the question.

The most interesting thing in this image, however, is the woman’s facial expression. She does not seem happy at all, and simply “pensive” does not seem to properly encompass the emotion displayed. The lady’s large eyes and quill pen at her lips seem to suggest a sort of sadness or regret, on top of just the simple thoughtfulness that is also portrayed.

The atmosphere of this print overall reminds me of the article on Victorian gender roles on the British Library website by Kathryn Hughes, in which she discusses the separate spheres that men and women were expected to inhabit during this time period. In the image, the woman is hidden away in her bedroom, shown to be solidly within the domestic sphere reserved for Victorian women. Hughes also mentions that “a young girl was not expected to focus too obviously on finding a husband.,” which may relate to the engraving if, indeed, the subject happens to be composing a letter to a male acquaintance or suitor. We have previously discussed in class how much Victorian language was encoded so as not to talk overtly about sex and sexuality–it is possible that the woman in the engraving is attempting to draft a reply to her lover that does not sound too forward, but also conveys her meaning well enough to be understood.

The imposition of societal gender norms on women in Victorian times may also account for the woman’s less-than-thrilled facial expression. As women were not supposed to necessarily enjoy the prospect of marriage or sexuality (being assumed to be more or less asexual as a whole [see William Acton’s medical text]) (Hughes), it would be understandable if the woman in the engraving was not portrayed as being eager to respond to a query from a lover–such correspondence would, naturally, be just an opportunity to gain the chance to produce children and fulfill the maternal duty. Though art oftentimes has messages undermining the social order of the time, the context given by Dr Flaherty seems to indicate that these engravings were indicative of the Victorian attitudes that American audiences desired to emulate, and would therefore likely not have contained such subversive messages.

Count Fosco: Looking Beyond the Iron Rod

The control Count Fosco wields over other people, particularly women, can make reading about him a fascinating, albeit somewhat uncomfortable, experience. I’ve always found his relationship with his wife disturbing (one needn’t look further than page 222’s “rod of iron with which he rules her” to see why), so I was really quite surprised when this particular character discussed Victorian gender roles and marital laws in a way that is difficult to interpret as anything other than a strange criticism of the status quo.

During the count’s evil rant of evilness, wherein he reveals to Walter just how he accomplished the switching of Laura and Anne, he asks, “Where in the history of the world, has a man of my order ever been found without a woman in the background, self-immolated on the altar of his life?” He later continues, “I ask, if a woman’s marriage obligations, in this country, provide for her private opinion of her husband’s principals? No! They charge her unreservedly to love, honour, and obey him.” (612).

This is a fascinating statement. Count Fosco certainly shows no remorse when it comes to his treatment of his wife, but he also suggests that he was quite aware of her plight. The book implies that Madame Fosco has lost much of her personality since marrying the count. She once believed in women’s rights, now she dutifully serves a murderous sociopath. I say sociopath because of that lack of remorse. The Count suggests that his wive has “self-immolated on the alter of his life,” but he consciously took advantage of that situation. This section of the novel says more than ‘Count Fosco is a creepy jerk,’ though. It also suggests that women can be too dedicated to their husbands, which was a pretty radical idea for the Victorians. As the Count noted, the law charged women “unreservedly to love, honour, and obey” their husbands, leaving no room for their own opinions and, dare I say, personalities. By pointing the reader’s attention towards the plight of his own wife, and towards the fact that her plight was caused by following those social norms (norms that were reinforced by actual laws), Count Fosco pretty much critiques the very situation he was taking advantage of. Talk about a complicated villain!

Assumed Power

There are many objects not immediately noticed in the piece of artwork, Debut in the Studio. Through an examination of this work, and a couple of poems read in class, I have come to see the way in which male dominance was accepted as a cultural normality during the Victorian Era. A man’s desire of a nice, virginal woman is suggested in this etching. A couple of objects in the work resemble angels. Angels generally represent purity, they can represent the dead, and they can represent holiness and faith. When looking at the etching, I noticed that at the top left there is what appears to be a doll hanging from the curtains (I’m not actually sure what this is supposed to really be). This doll is a stark white color which reiterates much of what we have talked about in class about the symbolism of this bright, however, quite eerie, color.

I see another angel towards the middle of the picture though looking at the picture in a literal sense, one sees that this purported angel is actually just the curtains and the tie that holds them together. Christina Rossetti’s poem, “In an Artist’s Studio” relates greatly to this piece of artwork. The word angel is included in this poem; Rossetti writes, “A saint, an angel — every canvas means / The same one meaning, neither more or less.” Earlier in the poem the author writes, “One face looks out from all of his canvases.” In the etching, one can see that the focal point is the half clothed woman who is in the middle of the left side of the work. Everyone is looking at her, including the male artist. When one examines the man’s sketch though, he or she sees that a different woman is drawn. The ‘one face’ that Rossetti has written about is collective, it is woman’s face. There is significance in the fact that the artist is looking at one woman while drawing another, even though, both of these women look strangely similar. Their cherubic faces and shockingly white skin exemplify all that a woman of the Victorian Era should be. The angelic features make them desirable character’s in this man’s story. By creating an image where the man is focusing on two very similar-looking women, it is as if he is lusting over their similar features. These attributes are the women’s purity, and heavenly bodies. The man focuses more on those rather than the distinguishable traits that make each woman herself. This man allows himself, whether he realizes it or not, to see the woman as less than human thus asserting and displaying the control he (and other males in the Victorian era) have, and has over females.

A second observation of this work that demonstrates man’s great power over women is shown through the placement of subjects in the artwork. Despite there being five women (including the angels) and only one man, the man has the whole right side of the work for himself and his sketch. The man has so much space all for himself, while the women are cramped! The power that these men believe that they posses is further displayed in Robert Browning’s poem “My Last Duchess.” In this poem the main subject, a man takes control over his now former wife by hiding a picture of her behind a curtain. He is the one who draws the curtain, but only when he pleases. Browning writes, “ […] since none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I […]” The man has control over who sees the painting of his wife, and the man in the etching has control over what he wants his women to look like as he is the artist (although I’m not sure that the women in this work can get any more white and similar-looking than they already are.)

Both poems and this artwork demonstrate the interesting gender power dynamics of this era. The fact that none of these works blatantly tells readers or viewers that men are in charge, shows that that role a man has, one of power, is just accepted. No one is repudiating the assumptions that these poems, and this etching are making.

Ramus, Edmond. “Debut in the Studio.” Trout Gallery, http://www.troutgallery.org/

She doesn’t have the look… or maybe it’s the stamina

The Feeding the Motherless etching by the Illman Brothers was one of my favorites that we saw on Monday. I like that it was more focused on what the woman is doing than on how she looks. The artist did not go out of their way to make the woman strikingly beautiful either and gave the woman more depth than that. She has a plain face and therefore the eye is free to travel to the intricately etched nest and baby birds.

Both the woman in the etching and Marian seem to have been forced into mothering roles; the etching woman by the kindness of her heart in taking in helpless birds and Marian by her affections for her sister. The woman in the etching to me seems to be tired by her role as mother because of the shading around and under her eyes, which suggests to me that this role assignment is taxing on her. This also mirrors the burden Marian’s role as mother to Laura places on her as shown through the loss of freedom Marian has in going into hiding.

The etching’s focus on the woman’s actions rather than her looks also reminds me of Marian. Marian is described as “ugly” by Walter and while the woman in the etching is not ugly, she is not as glamorous as the other woman in the other etchings (Collins 34). I feel like because these are not woman who are praised for their looks the people portraying them use their actions in order to give them some value in the Victorian society.

This reminds me of William Rathbone Greg’s essay. He discusses how woman are redundant unless they are married or serving others and that these are their greatest purposes in life. Using Greg’s point of view it can be assumed that in serving, Marian and the etching woman are being fulfilled through their roles as mothers, despite the fact that the act itself is very draining on both women.

While I appreciate that the viewer gets to admire the woman through her work and not her look, the Feeding of the Motherless etching is still not the ideal portrayal of a woman given its Victorian context.

The Enchantress: Magic and the Femme Fatale

The Beguiling of Merlin (1885) Adolphe Lalauze

Women with magic or connections to nature are often presented as the adversary of Medieval, Romantic, and Victorian men. One of the most formidable to span across multiple periods is Nimue, Lady of the Lake. In a trio of adversaries[1] against Merlin, Nimue (the original of the three) is the one who casts a spell over the ancient wizard after stealing his power, sealing him inside a tree to sleep for all eternity. In Adolphe Lalauze’s print of Edward Burne-Jones’ The Beguiling of Merlin (1872-1877) the wizard is depicted in a reclining form, gazing up at Nimue, who is holding one of his spell books. His black cloak created a shadow which envelops his form, giving his body a rather shapeless appearance, as if he is fading out of existence. Nimue on the other hand is clothed in a garment which is incredibly similar in tone and style to the forest around her (emphasizing her inherent connection to nature). Merlin’s left hand also gestures to the narcissus flowers growing by the lakeside, alluding to Narcissus, Merlin’s own vanity and desire, and that he will eventually be turned into a plant, trapped where he lies for all time.

There are a few variations of Nimue’s tale, sometimes replacing her with Viviene (usually due to some influence from Morgana le Fay), but each story ends with Merlin having his power stolen and being put to sleep inside a tree. There is another femme fatale of this time period who also holds standing in the Pre-Raphaelite circle: La Belle Dame sans Merci. Inspired by a John Keats poem of the same title, the story of La Belle Dame revolves around a gallant knight who is beguiled by a beautiful woman (who is either fairy-like or an actual fairy or “fey”) and lulled to sleep.

“And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dreamed – Ah! woe betide!-

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.” (Keats 29-32)

Both of these women are portrayed as powerful and magical beings who ensnare brave or wise men with their beauty, letting the men fall prey to their desires and enter into a cursed sleep. Women who are entwined with nature, not bound by society (who are perhaps older than mankind), become a threat towards power structures (chivalry, Arthur’s kingdom, etc). However, because of their magical and otherworldly nature they are beyond the reach of the mortal hand of justice. Thus they serve as a warning towards men both young and old to not let their guard down because of desire. However, because they become object through art, it is okay too look, just don’t touch.

Below are two other artistic representations of this scene, photographed in 1874 by Julia Margaret Cameron and her interpretation of Vivien and Merlin.

Another medium through which the enchantment of the Arthurian femme fatale is conveyed is Nimue’s song to Merlin from the Lerner and Loewe musical Camelot.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tt7FGuvTTKA” title=”%22Follow%20Me%22%20Nimue%27s%20Song%20to%20Merlin%20″]

[1] In Arthurian legend Nimue is Merlin’s oldest adversary, a nymph who puts him under an eternal sleep. She is later replaced by Morgana le Fay and Vivien in various tales, her sole purpose being to give Arthur the sword Excalibur and eventually carry him to Avalon upon his death. Morgana le Fay is the half-sister of King Arthur who swears to destroy everything Merlin has built for disguising Uther Pendragon like her father so he could sleep with her mother (Lady Igraine). She later casts a spell on Arthur and sleeps with in order to produce a bastard child Mordred (sometimes it is her sister Morgause who does this), who will eventually kill Arthur. Vivien is usually portrayed as being a student of Morgana who then pretends to be a student of Merlin in order to gain his power and put him under and enchanted sleep, all a part of Morgana’s plan to destroy Arthur’s kingdom.

Greg Would Love St. Valentine’s Day

One of my favorite images that we looked at in the Trout Gallery is titled St. Valentine’s Day by the Illman Brothers.

http://collections.troutgallery.org/Obj18172?sid=59379&x=614247

This image shows what I assume to be a family or a large group of close friends celebrating the holiday of Valentine’s Day. We can see that the group of people in the picture are in an upper class based on their clothing and the decorative elements within the house they are in. What I like most about this image is how the artist made it mostly in black and white with just a few pops of color.

In William Rathbone Greg’s article, “Why Are Women Redundant?”, he discusses his issue with the fact that he finds many women in Britain to be redundant because they are not fulfilling their duties by marrying, serving their husbands, and having children. Greg would appreciate the image St. Valentine’s Day because in it women are anything but redundant. The artist put pops of colors into the outfits of the women, drawing the viewers eyes to them and making them the subject of the image. All of the women we see in the image are right next to or touching children. One woman is holding a baby, one woman looks like she is playing with two children, and there are three women who appear to be watching over two other children. We also see one of the women taking care of the household duties by answering the door and receiving the mail. Greg would be incredibly pleased that these women are all looking after children because he believes that women’s “minds will narrow and hearts wither if they have nothing to do, and none to love, cherish, and obey” (Greg 159). One woman standing in the back of the image is the only woman without color on her dress, perhaps symbolizing that she is a servant of some sort. Greg would also approve of women as servants, because he believes they are fulfilling their purpose and are not redundant.

While there are many aspects of the image that Greg would like, he would probably have an issue with the ratio of men to women. There are more women than men in the image, which means some of the women must be unmarried (*gasp*).

As She Fills His Dream: Laura, Christina Rossetti, and Women as a Blank

“Think of her as you thought of the first woman who quickened the pulses within you that the rest of her sex had no art to stir. Let the kind, candid blue eyes meet yours, as they met mine, with the one matchless look which we both remember so well. Let her voice speak the music that you once loved best, attuned as sweetly to your ear as to mine. Let her footstep, as she comes and goes, in these pages, be like that other footstep to whose airy fall your own heart once beat time. Take her as the visionary nursling of your own fancy; and she will grow upon you, all the more clearly, as the living woman who dwells in mine.” The Woman in White, Project Gutenberg

In Walter Hartright’s imagining of Laura Fairlie, he literally strips her identity from her: instead of granting her a shred of individuality or personhood, he presents her as an utter blank, depicted as a woman – any woman – who the (presumed male) reader found attractive. Walter describes no character, no personal quirks, no endearing qualities, which Laura possesses. In the most descriptive passage he accords to Laura, he transposes Laura the person with Laura as a stand-in for male masturbatory fantasy of a woman.

On an even more disturbing note, Walter describes Laura as the woman who lives in his fancy (fantasy): if the reader “takes her” into his own “fancy,” the woman who Walter encourages the reader to think of as Laura will grow stronger within the fancy in the same way “as the living woman who dwells in mine” – in other words, in Walter’s fancy. “Fancy” here means imagination, fantasy, invention, dream – Laura lives in Walter’s head, not in her own self or even her own body – and this dream-like quality echoes the dreamed woman in Christina Rossetti’s “In an Artist’s Studio.”

The “nameless girl” (line 6) reflects Walter’s refusal to describe Laura’s actual identity; the girl of the paintings has no name, no identity except her face. In the same way, Walter describes Laura’s physical attributes – eyes, voice, footstep – without lingering on her selfhood, the qualities that make her herself, or even giving her a name, rather encouraging the reader to substitute another woman’s self and name in order to increase male pleasure in the conception of Laura.

Rossetti describes the eponymous artist as “feed[ing] upon her face by day and night” (line 9), in the same way that Walter “feeds” upon the watercolor of Laura, fetishizing its physical presence in the same way he fetishized Laura’s physicality while her body was present. The metaphor of consumption encompasses the mental/bodily possession of Laura that Walter craves as well as the fetishization of her body. If Walter acts as the artist in Rossetti’s poem, he is also a reversal of the artist, transferring Laura onto all attractive woman rather than turning all women into her. However, the concept of consumption stands: rather than allowing Laura to stand on her own, to claim her own identity, Walter and Rossetti’s artist prefer to consume the “beloved” into themselves, projecting their own ideas of the female self onto an idealized, masturbatory fantasy of a woman.

The last two lines of Rossetti’s poem perpetuate the projection of false ideals onto an actual woman: “Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;/Not as she is, but as she fills his dream” (lines 13-14). The repetition of “not as she is” emphasizes the falsity of the male artist’s conceptualization of the woman, just as Walter’s description of Laura has nothing to do with Laura herself. “As she fills his dream” directly echoes Walter’s creepy line about having Laura within his fancy; these two women, the blank of the artist’s model and the blank of Laura, have been consumed and subsumed by their male idealizers. Idealization is dangerous and unreal, and it always has a quality of fantasy and falseness. The false idols of women that the artist and Walter create are absolutely nothing like their real counterparts: we see the fictional Laura and the nameless girl as figments of the male imagination, neither how they actually are nor how they themselves think they are, but solely as the men around them think they should be.

Curtain to Control Women

“It is a joy to be hidden but disaster not to be found.” -D.W. Winnicott

This disaster of not being found, because she is dead, is the fate the Duke of Ferrara left to his last Duchess- a tale documented and dramatized by Robert Browning in My Last Duchess. In this post I aim to discuss and analyze the fact that the Duke of Ferrara keeps the portrait of his last Duchess behind a curtain, “The curtain I have drawn for you” (Browning 10).

It is ascertained that the Duke has the Duchess killed because she had a heart “too soon made glad, Too easily impressed” (Browning 22-23) and was too flirtatious with other men which showed disregard for the Duke’s “gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name” (Browning 33). It can be assumed that he contributed to her death in the lines: “I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive” (Browning 45-47).

In class we discussed that it was usually nudes that were hidden behind curtains but as far as we are aware, the Duchess is fully clothed in her portrait. I assert that the Duke places her behind a curtain so that in her death he can hold control over whom she glances at and who admires “the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat” (Browning 18-19) in a way that he felt helplessly unable to do while she was alive. I believe the Duke does this due to an inferiority complex evidenced in the extreme pride he holds in his old name and the rare, expensive pieces of art he feels the need to collect “thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!” (Browning 55-56). He evidently feels the need to be narcissistic in order to prove to others that he is the absolute best and when someone does not think so or bow to his will (the last Duchess) he feels so inferior and lacking in true self-confidence that he needs to eliminate such persons. Due to this lack of self-confidence he treats his women as beautiful objects whom he controls in order to bring himself up and it is evidenced he will do the same with his next young bride-to-be that is waiting downstairs, “Though his fair daughter’s self…is my object” (Browning 52-53). In My Last Duchess he does her the ultimate insult by hanging her on his wall as an object he could control, a painting, since he couldn’t control her enough while she was living.

I find the whole concept of curtaining art to be particularly thought provoking. Curtains simultaneously conceal and reveal and viewers of art as well as readers of My Last Duchess have a special privilege of seeing both sides of the curtain. Curtains are commonly used in theater to heighten anticipation. Likewise they can be used to reveal a secret hidden beneath them. This heightening of anticipation factor shows that the Duke is almost taking pride of what he has done as well as how beautiful his ex-wife was and reveling in the fact that the viewers of her will not know the dark secret. We as readers however, are able to suss out the repeal of the curtain as being insight into the deeper secret that he has killed her. I find the curtain to also symbolize deception- not only the deception of the Duke but the deception of paintings in general in that not only do we solely get the Duke’s perspective and opinion on the actions or “misdeeds” of the Duchess but we also solely get Fra Pandolf’s depiction of her, which could also be flawed or incomplete as Christina Rosetti comments on painting models that are painted “Not as she is, but as she fills his dream” (Rosetti 14) in In an Artist’s Studio. The fact that we cannot even ascertain the true feelings, actions, and even appearance/demeanor of the Duchess gives us as readers a flawed sense of who she was as a person which leads to a broader critique of women in Victorian art in that they were merely objectified, controlled in depiction, and stripped of their power. In the case of My Last Duchess she has not only been stripped of her life but first (and perhaps most importantly in the Duke’s mind) stripped of her power to ever again annoy the Duke or contribute to his rampant insecurities.