In his introductory letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, Edmund Spenser sets out his intention in constructing The Faerie Queene as an allegory. Its purpose, he writes, is to "mold a gentleman or noble person into virtuous or gentle discipline." the Knights of each book describe a journey to their respective states of virtue, and Spenser's retelling of the mythological Arthur before his kingship embodies the general state of ethical coherence or "magnificence" that both his fictional knights and his reader must strive for reach. reach. The virtues described derive from Aristotle and, by overcoming the vices he encounters along the way, each knight reaches a state of virtue that evokes those established in the Nicomean Ethics. However, they also align Spenser with the courtesy 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 that the nobility should adhere to and cultivate. However, if like Castiglione's model, Spenser's poetry is effective due to its transparency, why the elaborate deviation of allegory? Why does allegory communicate things that other media cannot communicate? Spenser's reason supports the 'pleasure' in reading 'good discipline delivered clearly in the form of precepts' (P.16), however, the very act of constructing a letter of explanation recognizes the difficulties posed by the allegory. That the poem can present its meaning "awkwardly wrapped in allegory" returns as both reminder and anxiety throughout Spenser's letter. He quickly demonstrates an appreciation for 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 Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay “Appearing” rather than “being” recurs in The Faerie Queene as a constant problem for its characters. Spencer's description constantly returns to the deceptive, often intricate surfaces and facades that mask hidden corruption. Perhaps one of the clearest examples of this can be found within the Duessa, the "rebel witch". Duessa pervades the first book of the poem in the guise of a beautiful woman; determined to mislead and destroy the Red Cross knight from his path to 'Sainthood' (Prefatory Letter, p.16) What Duessa 'looks like' shifts from canto to canto. Spenser pays particular attention to her disguised attire when introducing her character into the narrative: a good lady dressed in scarlet, edged with gold and pearls of rich accoutrement, and like a Persian miter on her hair she wore, with crowns and garnished owls, which his sumptuous doors at his party; (I, II,13.) 'red', 'gold', 'mitres', 'crowns', Spenser's verbs pay attention to the outward appearance of his character. As emphasized by the color of her dress and golden miter, Duessa is a thinly veiled figure of the Roman Catholic Church, and the implication that her "goodness] derives from her material dress offers an ironic, albeit well-worn digression to the reader. However, what is most interesting in Spenser's stanza is the way in which the language of its description simultaneously participates in the disguise and undressing of Duessa's true nature. Unlike the Red Cross knight who is deceived by his appearance, Spenser leaves clear signals in his language pointing towards the "dirt" that lies beneath the surface; the "trappings" of his horse's bridle - with all its connotations of artifice and Catholic dress, are an example of this VIII in whichshe is stripped of her dress to reveal "monstrous" deformities and "secret filthiness" (I, VIII, 46.) and is thrown into the desert. A reader therefore must perceive and avoid the charm of his character if he does not want to fall into the same trap as Spenser's knight. Spenser's basic premise appears simple; those characters who show excesses in their external appearance often indicate hidden internal deficiencies. In many ways, this corresponds to the model of Aristotelian virtue ethics referenced in the poem's introductory letter; figuratively speaking, the Knight of the Red Cross must draw a clear line between the vices of deficiency and excess to achieve a holistic moral state. The dichotomy between deficiency and excess emerges repeatedly in the first book. In Canto IV, Queen Lucifer eclipses the "glittering gold and matchless precious stone" of her throne with her "bright and dazzling beauty." Yet, like Duessa's hidden, disfigured form, a dragon lurks beneath her "scornful feet." Spenser's architectural spaces often display a dueling nature. His description of Lucifera's castle provides a good example: a stately palace built of square bricks, which had been cunningly laid without mortar, whose walls were high but nothing strong or thick, and gold leaf everywhere exposed. (I, IV, 4)If Duessa's dress masks a hidden and corrupt form, Lucifera's castle appears only as a façade; the building has no foundation and its architectural ornamentation seems constructed solely for its own good. Spenser's language is similarly structured; rich in assonances, it is pleasant both from a sound point of view and in terms of the images it evokes. Spenser's language corresponds to the subject described; his rhymes are balanced and contribute to the rhetorical shift between tracks orchestrated by the verse; 'square brick' and 'strong and chunky' are counterbalanced by 'no mortar laid' and 'exposed' fragile 'foile'. Like the castle described, the verse is elegant and well crafted. This parallel between description and thing described is intriguing; denotes linguistic attention to ornamentation; it alludes to emptiness. Spenser's conception of his poems as "wrapped in allegorical devices" parallels this idea, consciously or not. “Wrapped up” is an elusive metaphor; suggests interior and exterior at the same time. The word points to a fundamental meaning or truth and describes an outer shell. The idea that Spenser's language could "clumsily" reveal the truth with his style is dubious, and that the writing of such a Protestant man could unintentionally border on senseless ornamentation, even more so. To some extent, the debate about form and content comes into play again. . The debate has traditionally separated the external veneer of style from the internal substance of thought; a tip now well worn. Writing about the human faculty of judgment, Francis Bacon considers the possibilities of formal style to obscure and alter the meaning of expressed words. A “pleasure in style and phrase, and an admiration for that kind of writing,” according to Bacon, led men to “study words and not matter.” Continues; the "gentle fall of clauses" and the "illustration" afforded by "tropes and figures" diminish the "weight of the matter, the value of the argument, the solidity of the argument, the duration of the invention, or the depth of judgment of a piece of writing." The void of meaning is not Bacon's only concern; it gives a sinister influence to the words themselves as they impose themselves on the judgment of their creators; like "a Tartar's bow," they "rebound against the understanding of the wisest, and mightily snare and distort judgment." This is intriguing; Bacon not only advocates claritystyle, but also invites careful reading and warns against erroneous interpretations. It is worth considering Spenser's choice of "Cunning" in his description of Lucifera's castle. The word describes the spell with which the bricks are made and connotes deception; deceit. Spenser immediately aligns his writing with a refined architectural space and recognizes the potential of words to mislead and be misunderstood. In his book-length study of Spenser's allegorical rhetoric, Michael Murrin exposes the difficult ways in which rhetoric and allegory intersect in much Renaissance thought. For Murrin, the "allegorical poet" was often "asked to perform the function of orator"; provide clarity of meaning within the genre of allegory. Yet, as Murrin points out, clarity and allegory rarely go hand in hand. This duel asked of 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 intent of his allegory is to provide a model of ethics that is called into question by its own narrative structure; oration is based on clear speech and allegory deals with ambiguity. Yet at the same time, it is expected to have a definable truth or value at its core. It is as if Spenser's poetry is caught between the desire to say something paraphrasable, transitive, and moral and a narrative structure that makes any such precise expression impossible with its shifting "allegorical devices." Bacon's essay emphasizes the significance of reader interpretation. The Faerie Queene corresponds to this; in all 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 center of all this is the notion of work and active engagement in moral choices. Before introducing Lucifera's Castle, Spencer issues a warning; 'Beware of fraud, beware of fickleness' (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 requires the kind of attention and awareness that he causes his character to apply to moral decision-making. Like the knights in every book, the reader must constantly evaluate the ethical significance of the characters to whom he places his sympathy. In many ways, this active engagement with both characters and moral choices corresponds to the "two calls" of allegory, as imagined by Jonathan Goldberg. In a footnote in his chapter on "Others, Desire, and the Self" within Faerie Queene, he lays out the following premise; "The allegory offers the reader two enticements." The first 'is the set of characters who act in the text'; their actions often serve the ongoing story, 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, as Barthes put it.” The second appeal is that of allegory; "the possibility of substituting an abstraction for a name or character, thus leaving the narrative and its characters behind for the sake of meaning." In many ways the two are united; Spenser's characters are figures whose marked characteristics are engaging and at the same time nothing comes by itself; each figure is accompanied by the awareness of its hidden meaning; no matter how thinly veiled it may be. One way of thinking about this dichotomy between textual surface and meaning.