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3 Adultery and adulteration in film versions of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary Colin Davis Chaque nuit pourtant, il la rêvait; c’était toujours le même rêve: il s’approchait d’elle; mais quand il venait à l’étreindre, elle tombait en pourriture dans ses bras. (Flaubert 1972: 406) Every night, he dreamed about her; always it was the same dream: he came nearer; but when he went to embrace her, she turned to putrid flesh in his arms. (Flaubert 2003: 323)1 What does Gustave Flaubert’s novel Madame Bovary know about film in general, and in particular about its future
book – we gained proximity to the Iranian government. Then in mid 2010, the case of Sakineh [Mohammadi Ashtiani], who was going to be stoned for adultery, became worldwide news. Lula suggested to the Iranian government that Brazil could offer Sakineh asylum. I then met with Iranian President Ahmadinejad in New York at his request, during the [general debate of the UN] General Assembly. The first thing he did was tell me what was being done about Sakineh’s situation. He was extremely concerned about Brazil’s opinion on the matter. So, often what
This book looks at the highly publicised, sensational trials of several young female protagonists in the period 1918-1924. These cases, all presented by the press as morality tales involving drugs, murder, adultery, miscegenation and sexual perversion, are used as a prism through which to identify concerns about modern femininity. The book first examines a libel case, brought by a well-known female dancer against a maverick right-wing MP for the accusation of lesbianism. One aspect of this libel trial involved the drawing up of battle-lines in relation to the construction of a new, post-war womanhood. The book then looks at two inquests and three magistrate-court trials that involved women and drugs; young women in relationships with Chinese men were also effectively in the dock. One way of accessing court proceedings has been via the account of the trial published as part of the Notable British Trial Series. There are no extant trial transcripts. But there are prosecution depositions lodged at the National Archives, much press reportage, and a number of relevant memoirs, all giving a keen sense of the key issues raised by the trial. The book also focuses on an extraordinary divorce case, that of Christabel Russell, involving cross-dressing, claims of a virgin birth, extreme sexual ignorance, and a particular brand of eccentric modern femininity.
; and his James Joyce, Ulysses 71 reputation crumbled in the face of contemporary Irish Catholic attitudes towards adultery, which history tells us were orthodox and stringent (Foley 1997; Inglis 1998: 23–49). No one knew his own constituency better than Parnell; no one appreciated better than he the fragility of the broad political front which had been so painstakingly established during the 1880s in the name of Home Rule. In a sense, he ‘betrayed’ that constituency when he entered into an affair with Katherine O’Shea; in a sense he betrayed his own cause when he
of her engagement in an adulterous relationship. Lawyer Gerald Sparrow, who attended the trial out of interest, remembered that ‘the first thing I noticed in that packed court at the Old Bailey was her physical attraction and her lovely neck. She exuded sex.’55 Edith claimed j j 110 the tribulations of edith thompson that despite much pleading, Percy had adamantly refused to give her a divorce. ������������������������������������������������������������������ The double moral standard enshrined in the idea of a woman’s adultery being more serious than a man
misdemeanours. Several were confined in Florence’s new prison, the Stinche, during the fourteenth century.1 About 1140, the legal code of King Roger II of Sicily had declared that ‘Known prostitutes shall not be thought worthy to observe these laws and shall stand absolutely immune from the judicial punishments for adultery and fornication.’ The law should protect a prostitute against violence, but she must not ‘dwell among women of good reputation’.2 Most authorities would uphold this principle, even centuries later. Chaste women and girls might otherwise be scandalised
try to, in Gareth’s case – the results are transgressive on more levels than that of adultery. This motif, foregrounded by textual attention to the material culture of sleep, inverts the usual gendered values of blood flow and signals threats to the knight’s social status. This motif is further transgressive in its representations of female desire, which are unusually well-developed compared to the male-dominated norms of lust in medieval romance. While this motif is not unique to Malory, his text is distinctive in using it
wider audience through the explosion of print, which provided a medium for public discourse about a wide range of issues, including morality and marriage – even issues that undermined the traditional life cycle, such as adultery, divorce, polygamy, and bigamy, were subject to debate. 3 It is not surprising, therefore, to see these issues also being addressed in one of the leading cultural media of the time – the London stage. The theatres reopened in 1660 and it was not long before the new plays
delineation of female body shapes gave way to the imagination of nudity and dishabille. Visual satire and literature showcase the body in contradiction with the various strategies implemented to hide it. Easier access to female bodies was a constant theme for the literature of spa towns, which were referred to as places of the marriage market and adultery, prostitution and promiscuity. Such was the central theme of several comedies staged in Bath, Tunbridge or Epsom, from the Restoration to the end of the eighteenth century. The inherent theatricality of watering places was
22 Incest, penance and a murdered bishop: the legend of Frederic of Utrecht Bram van den Hoven van Genderen The title of this contribution refers to the early-eleventh-century Passio Friderici.1 In this saint’s life bishop Frederic of Utrecht (fl. c. 822/26–34) is murdered by a couple of minions of Empress Judith, wife of Emperor Louis the Pious, out of revenge for the bishop’s accusations of incest and adultery against her. Moreover, incest was involved in a double sense. Judith’s presumed lover, Count Bernard of Septimania, was, according to the Passio, also