8 Matching Annotations
  1. Last 7 days
    1. A sudden flame, a merciful fury sent

      A modern connection: This is Taylor Swift's song “Mad Woman”, which debuted as the twelfth track on her seventh studio album, Folklore, released on August 18, 2020. Written during the COVID-19 pandemic, the song addresses the criticism and societal backlash that women often face when expressing anger. I include this song as an annotation because it resonates strongly with Xantippe. Centuries of being villainized, described as “shrewd” or “crazy,” mirror the way society punished women for emotions that were deemed inappropriate. Swift’s lyrics capture this societal double standard: "And there's nothin' like a mad woman What a shame she went mad No one likes a mad woman You made her like that" These lines directly reflect the way Xantippe’s anger is treated, not as a natural or justified response, but as evidence of moral or personal failing. Swift continues: "And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around" This imagery parallels the way Xantippe is provoked and restricted by the expectations of her husband and society, until she finally lashes out, a physical and emotional release mirrored in Levy’s poem. Later lines, such as: "The master of spin has a couple of well-placed friends They'll tell you you're insane" highlight how women’s reputations and emotions are manipulated and controlled by societal judgment, reinforcing the same marginalization that Levy talks about. By including “Mad Woman”, we can see a direct line from Xantippe’s historical and literary treatment to modern discussions about women, anger, and the consequences of breaking imposed emotional boundaries.[]https://youtu.be/6DP4q_1EgQQ?si=e7ol3EKrAAWfHwSR

    2. But swiftly in my bosom there uprose A sudden flame, a merciful fury sent To save me; with both angry hands I flung The skin upon the marble, where it lay                                                                                                                             220 Spouting red rills and fountains on the white; Then, all unheeding faces, voices, eyes, I fled across the threshold, hair unbound— White garment stained to redness—beating heart

      At this point in the poem, Xantippe has lost the mask she worked so hard to hold on to. Socrates has angered her, and in a sudden fit of rage, her body responds with a faster heartbeat as she flings the wine onto the floor. Xantippe seems to rarely allow herself to feel or express anger; she might often feel slighted or sad, but these emotions are usually restrained, like a quietly glowing ember. Here, however, a “sudden flame” erupts: the heat rises, and she finally releases it. The description of the red wine spilling onto the white marble serves as a powerful metaphor for the loss of innocence or purity. What was once clean and controlled is now marked and transformed. Xantippe crosses the threshold changed, “hair unbound, white garment stained to redness," no longer the restrained, composed figure she once was. Levy’s depiction of this moment reflects her interest in women’s emotional and intellectual repression. Just as Xantippe’s fury has been contained by societal expectations in ancient Athens, Victorian women like Levy faced pressures to restrain their feelings and intellect. By giving Xantippe a dramatic, physical release of her anger, Levy depicts the costs of suppression and illuminates the intense, hidden emotional lives of women. The poem becomes not only a historical reflection on Xantippe’s experience but also a nuanced critique of the constraints placed on women in Levy’s world by showing how powerful and transformative the acknowledgment of one’s own emotions can be.

    3. ‘ I thank thee for the wisdom which thy lips Have thus let fall among us : prythee tell From what high source, from what philosophies Didst cull the sapient notion of thy words?’

      Through Socrates’ choice of words in this passage, he comes across as arrogantly dismissive. Using sarcasm, he comments, what on the surface sounds like a compliment: “I thank thee for the wisdom which thy lips / Have thus let fall among us,” as actually belittling. The phrase “have thus let fall among us” portrays her input as something not freely given or valued; it was blurted out and unsolicited. His snide questions: “From what high source, from what philosophies / Didst cull the sapient notion of thy words?” imply that even if her words were worthy, they could not possibly have come from her own mind. Socrates shows no genuine respect for Xantippe, acknowledging her only in the limited capacity allowed to women in domestic spaces. Amy Levy’s choice of including this passage reflects her broader interest in exposing the ways women’s intelligence and emotional lives were devalued. By featuring Socrates’ dismissive tone, Levy demonstrates the societal conditions of Victorian women like herself, who were often denied intellectual recognition and confined to narrowly defined roles. Just as Xantippe is belittled despite her perception, Victorian women faced systemic obstacles to being taken seriously. This makes Levy’s dramatic monologue a commentary on the ongoing marginalization of women’s minds.

    4. I saw his face and marked it, half with awe,                                                                             60 Half with a quick repulsion at the shape. . . .

      While looks and beauty were very important in the ancient Grecian times, Socrates broke the mold when it came to the beauty standards of his day. As noted to his appearance in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Socrates "had wide-set, bulging eyes that darted sideways and enabled him, like a crab, to see not only what was straight ahead, but what was beside him as well; a flat, upturned nose with flaring nostrils; and large fleshy lips like an ass." Despite the hair trends of his area, he grew his hair out and refused to stay clean or change his clothes. Amy Levy includes these details to accentuate the contrast between societal expectations and individual worth. Men like Socrates could be physically unconventional or even “ugly” and still admired for their intellect, yet there was no equivalent space for women to be recognized for their minds. A woman’s value was tied to her beauty and social conformity. By presenting Socrates’ unconventionality alongside the phrase “half with awe,” Levy highlights the tension between superficial judgment and true merit, a tension mirrored in "Xantippe: A Fragment", where women’s intellectual and emotional lives were historically ignored or dismissed.

    5. My soul which yearned for knowledge,

      When Xantippe describes her soul as one that “yearned for knowledge,” she describes a desire that classical society discouraged in women. This yearning reflects Amy Levy’s own intellectual ambitions and her struggle to access education in a world that restricted women’s academic opportunities. Levy pushed against these limitations of her time. She became the second Jewish woman ever admitted to Cambridge University and the first Jewish woman to enroll at Newnham College, one of the women’s colleges founded to expand access to higher learning. Levy’s personal experiences with gender barriers enhance her portrayal of Xantippe’s longing. By giving a classical woman, the same thirst for intellectual life that Levy felt as a Victorian woman, the poem creates a bridge between eras. Xantippe’s desire becomes not merely personal but representative of a long history of women whose intellectual aspirations were dismissed or deemed inappropriate. Through this moment of self-revelation, Levy highlights the emotional cost of systemic exclusion and places knowledge-seeking as both a private desire and an act of resistance.

    6. Then followed days of sadness, as I grew To learn my woman-mind had gone astray, And I was sinning in those very thoughts—

      This passage reflects experiences that are both historically and personally grounded by connecting the lives of women in Ancient Greece and Victorian England. As a Victorian woman, Levy would have understood the deep emotional pressures created by a society that limited women’s education, rights, and opportunities simply because of their gender. Many women writers of the time, including Charlotte Brontë (writing as Currer Bell) and Mary Ann Evans (writing as George Eliot), adopted male pen names just to have their work published. This is just one example of the systemic barriers women faced. The line “and I was sinning in those very thoughts—” adds an intense sense of shame and internalized guilt, drawing attention to how natural curiosity and intellectual exploration could be framed as morally wrong for a woman. By illuminating this tension, Levy exposes the emotional cost of societal restrictions, showing how both historical and contemporary pressures could make women feel as though their own minds were prohibited.

    7. I have been dreaming in a troubled sleep Of weary days I thought not to recall; Of stormy days, whose storms are hushed long since; Of gladsome days, of sunny days; alas!

      Xantippe describes a “troubled sleep” filled with memories of “weary days," “stormy days,” "gladsome days" and "sunny days." All of which showcase a wide emotional spectrum that reflects the turbulence and instability of her inner life. As described in the Oxford English Dictionary, “weary” is defined as “having the feeling of loss of strength, languor, and need for rest, produced by continued exertion (physical or mental), endurance of severe pain, or wakefulness; tired, fatigued.” This definition highlights the depth of exhaustion Xantippe experiences, not just physical tiredness, but a profound emotional and psychological fatigue shaped by years of disappointment and suppression. The coupling of “weary” with “stormy” suggests that her life has been a mixture of long-term exhaustion and moments of upheaval. By layering images of fatigue and unrest, Levy conveys an emotional range that establishes the introspective tone of the dramatic monologue. This invites readers to witness Xantippe’s internal thought process, something historical accounts often have denied her. This emotional landscape also functions as a mirror ball to Levy's own inner life by reflecting in fragmented but vivid ways the themes that appear throughout her body of work. In the poems collected in "A Minor Poet and Other Verse," there is a theme of loss and burdens of being human. Her poem, "Sonnet" exemplifies this introspective shift by capturing the same sense of inner weariness, longing, and psychological strain that is felt through Xantippe. By reading "Xantippe: A Fragment" alongside her other poems, we can see how Levy's writing reflects different angles of the same emotional core, all of which emphasize the private struggles that women were expected to keep hidden.

    8. What, have I waked again? I never thought To see the rosy dawn, or ev’n this grey, Dull, solemn stillness, ere the dawn has come. The lamp burns low; low burns the lamp of life:

      Although “Xantippe: A Fragment” was published in 1880, nine years before Levy’s death in 1889, the poem already reveals the emotional turmoil that resulted in her long-standing, though undiagnosed, clinical depression. In these lines, Amy Levy gives a haunting voice to a figure who feels emotionally drained, as if her life’s flame were dimming. The imagery of a “lamp of life” burning low, mixed with the weariness of waking, resonates with Levy’s own recurring bouts of melancholic depression. As a young Jewish woman navigating the male-dominated intellectual circles of Victorian England, Levy often felt like an outsider, both socially and spiritually. According to the Jewish Women’s Archive (2021), a friend and confidant, Richard Garnett, described her as having "constitutional melancholy." By channeling that profound exhaustion through Xantippe, she not only critiques the silencing of women, but also reveals personal anxieties about her own worth, agency, and artistic survival.