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Thread: Elegy II: The Anagram by John Donne

  1. #1
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    Elegy II: The Anagram by John Donne

    What is your opinion on the meaning of this poem?


    Marry, and love thy Flavia, for she
    Hath all things whereby others beautious be,
    For, though her eyes be small, her mouth is great,
    Though they be ivory, yet her teeth be jet,
    Though they be dim, yet she is light enough,
    And though her harsh hair fall, her skin is rough;
    What though her cheeks be yellow, her hair's red;
    Give her thine, and she hath a maidenhead.
    These things are beauty's elements, where these
    Meet in one, that one must, as perfect, please.
    If red and white and each good quality
    Be in thy wench, ne'er ask where it doth lie.
    In buying things perfumed, we ask if there
    Be musk and amber in it, but not where.
    Though all her parts be not in th' usual place,
    She hath yet an anagram of a good face.
    If we might put the letters but one way,
    In the lean dearth of words, what could we say?
    When by the Gamut some Musicians make
    A perfect song, others will undertake,
    By the same Gamut changed, to equal it.
    Things simply good can never be unfit.
    She's fair as any, if all be like her,
    And if none be, then she is singular.
    All love is wonder; if we justly do
    Account her wonderful, why not lovely too?
    Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies;
    Choose this face, changed by no deformities.
    Women are all like angels; the fair be
    Like those which fell to worse; but such as thee,
    Like to good angels, nothing can impair:
    'Tis less grief to be foul than t' have been fair.
    For one night's revels, silk and gold we choose,
    But, in long journeys, cloth and leather use.
    Beauty is barren oft; best husbands say,
    There is best land where there is foulest way.
    Oh what a sovereign plaster will she be,
    If thy past sins have taught thee jealousy!
    Here needs no spies, nor eunuchs; her commit
    Safe to thy foes; yea, to a Marmosit.
    When Belgia's cities the round countries drown,
    That dirty foulness guards, and arms the town:
    So doth her face guard her; and so, for thee,
    Which, forced by business, absent oft must be,
    She, whose face, like clouds, turns the day to night;
    Who, mightier than the sea, makes Moors seem white;
    Who, though seven years she in the stews had laid,
    A Nunnery durst receive, and think a maid;
    And though in childbed's labour she did lie,
    Midwives would swear 'twere but a tympany;
    Whom, if she accuse herself, I credit less
    Than witches, which impossibles confess;
    Whom dildoes, bedstaves, and her velvet glass
    Would be as loath to touch as Joseph was:
    One like none, and liked of none, fittest were,
    For, things in fashion every man will wear.

  2. #2
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    Hello, Jacob, welcome to the forum.
    Though John Donne never exactly reads easily, as I have encountered with much of his poetry, I will try to delve into this one. With slightly longer poems, I prefer to proceed section-by-section.
    Marry, and love thy Flavia, for she
    Hath all things whereby others beautious be,
    For, though her eyes be small, her mouth is great,
    Though they be ivory, yet her teeth be jet,
    Though they be dim, yet she is light enough,
    And though her harsh hair fall, her skin is rough;
    What though her cheeks be yellow, her hair's red;
    Give her thine, and she hath a maidenhead.
    The first word 'marry' tends, I think, to settle in a reader uneasily, as the poem begins with a command to marry Flavia (taking out that first comma may help in comprehension). The description of Flavia seems like a balance of opposites - notice the words of 'small' and 'great,' 'dim' and 'light,' etc. The first section, when read slowly, has little to say other than an introduction of Flavia and her description.
    These things are beauty's elements, where these
    Meet in one, that one must, as perfect, please.
    If red and white and each good quality
    Be in thy wench, ne'er ask where it doth lie.
    In buying things perfumed, we ask if there
    Be musk and amber in it, but not where.
    Though all her parts be not in th' usual place,
    She hath yet an anagram of a good face.
    If we might put the letters but one way,
    In the lean dearth of words, what could we say?
    Where Donne writes 'These things are beauty's elements,' he refers to the balance of opposites, and, in essence, the equilibrium of extremes - the use of the words 'ivory' and 'jet,' for example, rather than mere gray; this balance, Donne writes, when joined makes perfection in a human. The many allegories Donne uses in proceeding sentences of this selection mostly explores aesthetics, much like how Immanuel Kant wrote of it in Critique Of Judgment: though we declare something beautiful, we feel no need to ask 'where lies its beauty' - basically we instinctively do not analyze it, merely considering it beautiful.
    When by the Gamut some Musicians make
    A perfect song, others will undertake,
    By the same Gamut changed, to equal it.
    Things simply good can never be unfit.
    She's fair as any, if all be like her,
    And if none be, then she is singular.
    All love is wonder; if we justly do
    Account her wonderful, why not lovely too?
    This selection continues on Donne's philosophy on aesthetics, but goes slightly more in depth. He gives the example of musicians making a gamut (a vast scale, usually related to music, exploring a plethora of emotions), and how listeners can hear and feel the beauty of it, taking their interpretations of its beauty themselves, equalling it; Donne briefly states, in summary, that 'good things' cannot appear ruined by others' interpretations of beauty (for more, please read Kant; I have never noticed their similarities until now). The selection continues on with the unique beauty that Flavia owns.
    Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies;
    Choose this face, changed by no deformities.
    Women are all like angels; the fair be
    Like those which fell to worse; but such as thee,
    Like to good angels, nothing can impair:
    'Tis less grief to be foul than t' have been fair.
    For one night's revels, silk and gold we choose,
    But, in long journeys, cloth and leather use.
    This selection has a lot to say, requiring reading over-and-over for at least some understanding, particularly with Donne's language. When considered philosophically, indeed, love based on beauty (especially on mortal beauty, such as that of a person - Flavia) dies when the beauty also dies; truly, memories may last ('choose this face, changed by no deformities'), yet the everlasting life of memory cannot support itself entirely without the promotion of present events (after beauty's death). Donne then uses the sometimes sardonically utilized phrase used today (women as fallen angels), only stating that the fairer the woman, the more the angel must have fallen from wherever (grace, perhaps?); Flavia makes an exception, however, as a 'good' angel,' Donne states. Also, in terms of beauty's death, and in retention of its purity, of course the elimination of the foul seems less traumatic than the loss of beauty; perhaps, too, Donne writes, it seems better to treasure both, subsequently avoiding the pain of only losing beauty, while utilizing both beauty and the foul.
    Beauty is barren oft; best husbands say,
    There is best land where there is foulest way.
    Oh what a sovereign plaster will she be,
    If thy past sins have taught thee jealousy!
    Here needs no spies, nor eunuchs; her commit
    Safe to thy foes; yea, to a Marmosit.
    When Belgia's cities the round countries drown,
    That dirty foulness guards, and arms the town:
    So doth her face guard her; and so, for thee,
    Which, forced by business, absent oft must be,
    She, whose face, like clouds, turns the day to night;
    Who, mightier than the sea, makes Moors seem white;
    Who, though seven years she in the stews had laid,
    A Nunnery durst receive, and think a maid;
    And though in childbed's labour she did lie,
    Midwives would swear 'twere but a tympany;
    Whom, if she accuse herself, I credit less
    Than witches, which impossibles confess;
    Whom dildoes, bedstaves, and her velvet glass
    Would be as loath to touch as Joseph was:
    One like none, and liked of none, fittest were,
    For, things in fashion every man will wear.
    This last selection, a bit of a repetition of analogies, Donne, in summary, states that beauty often seems unfulfilled without either a comparison of the foul, or one's domination over the foul to discover beauty. Though, too, Flavia may have had her aspects of 'foulness,' and others in her presence may have seen and judged too swiftly on her distracting foul parts, Donne witnessed her balance and equilibrium of opposites, exposing also the undying beauty. In a strong generalization, Donne writes, whatever the majority finds beautiful or attractive, others will follow; Donne insists on delving further, and not exactly analyzing beauty (as his philosophy so resembles that of Kant's aesthetics), but perceiving the beauty of the foul, and the foul of beauty.

  3. #3
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    erm...

    i have never read such an utterly awful analysis of a poem.

  4. #4
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    Since a useful analysis is still missing...

    I'll try my hand.

    Marry, and love thy Flavia, for she
    Hath all things whereby others beautious be,
    For, though her eyes be small, her mouth is great,
    Though they be ivory, yet her teeth be jet,
    Though they be dim, yet she is light enough,
    And though her harsh hair fall, her skin is rough;
    What though her cheeks be yellow, her hair's red;
    Give her thine, and she hath a maidenhead.
    Donne advises the adressed to consider Flavia for marriage. He lists her beauties with some irony: e.g, instead of red cheeks and yellow hair she has red hair and yellow cheeks (the beauty ideal having pale, blushing cheeks and blonde hair). We can tell right from the beginning that Flavia is no beauty, though she is (important in Donne's time) still a virgin.

    These things are beauty's elements, where these
    Meet in one, that one must, as perfect, please.
    If red and white and each good quality
    Be in thy wench, ne'er ask where it doth lie.
    In buying things perfumed, we ask if there
    Be musk and amber in it, but not where.
    Though all her parts be not in th' usual place,
    She hath yet an anagram of a good face.
    If we might put the letters but one way,
    In the lean dearth of words, what could we say?
    But, Donne says, however unusual her looks might be, she still has all the traits of ideal beauty, just not in the places they're supposed to be in. ("Though all her parts be not in th' usual place/She hath yet an anagram of a good face.") He puts for the composition of perfumes as an example: though we ask for red and yellow in the woman, we don't ask which parts are red and which are yellow.

    When by the Gamut some Musicians make
    A perfect song, others will undertake,
    By the same Gamut changed, to equal it.
    Things simply good can never be unfit.
    She's fair as any, if all be like her,
    And if none be, then she is singular.
    All love is wonder; if we justly do
    Account her wonderful, why not lovely too?
    This is a little tricky (the music part doesn't seem very meaningful to me), but an important part is this: "She's fair as any, if all be like her/And if none be, then she is singular." By that account, she is only as fair as other women if all others looked like her; since all women look different, she is unique. (Note that "singular" is, as many of the adjectives Donne uses to describe Flavia, neutral. He does not say whether he finds her beautiful, instead he merely says she looks unique.)

    Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies;
    Choose this face, changed by no deformities.
    Women are all like angels; the fair be
    Like those which fell to worse; but such as thee,
    Like to good angels, nothing can impair:
    'Tis less grief to be foul than t' have been fair.
    For one night's revels, silk and gold we choose,
    But, in long journeys, cloth and leather use.
    Beauty is barren oft; best husbands say,
    There is best land where there is foulest way.
    Two reasons are given to choose the 'less fair' Flavia: Love that is built on beauty will die as soon as that person ages and their beauty dies. And it is easier to contend with someone who has never been fair, than with someone who once was and now lost their beauty.
    In the end, Donne explains, we enjoy someone beautiful for a night, but choose someone who will aid us for the rest of our lives. ("For one night's revels, silk and gold we choose/But, in long journeys, cloth and leather use.")
    He also posits that "beauty is barren", and an ordinary woman has a greater chance of bearing a child.

    Oh what a sovereign plaster will she be,
    If thy past sins have taught thee jealousy!
    Here needs no spies, nor eunuchs; her commit
    Safe to thy foes; yea, to a Marmosit.
    When Belgia's cities the round countries drown,
    That dirty foulness guards, and arms the town:
    So doth her face guard her; and so, for thee,
    Which, forced by business, absent oft must be,
    She, whose face, like clouds, turns the day to night;
    Who, mightier than the sea, makes Moors seem white;
    Who, though seven years she in the stews had laid,
    A Nunnery durst receive, and think a maid;
    And though in childbed's labour she did lie,
    Midwives would swear 'twere but a tympany;
    Whom, if she accuse herself, I credit less
    Than witches, which impossibles confess;
    Whom dildoes, bedstaves, and her velvet glass
    Would be as loath to touch as Joseph was:
    One like none, and liked of none, fittest were,
    For, things in fashion every man will wear.
    Finally, Donne proclaims that Flavia, by virtue of her "face, [that,] like clouds, turns the day to night" will never be taken away by another man.

    "When Belgia's cities the round countries drown/That dirty foulness guards, and arms the town:/So doth her face guard her (...)"

    Since she is not a conventional beauty by any standards, her spouse will never have to fear she might leave with another man.
    Also, she is apparently a very virtuous person: "Whom, if she accuse herself, I credit less/Than witches, which impossibles confess;/Whom dildoes, bedstaves, and her velvet glass/Would be as loath to touch as Joseph was."
    Donne repeats that Flavia is unique, and fitting. These final lines then could be interpreted like this: Every man desires a blushing blonde with perfect features, which is the current 'fashion', but Flavia, deviating from this fashion, would be a good fit in all fashions.

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