Daniel Swift

In a vale of tears

The Rape of Lucrece isn’t really a poem, and the rape isn’t really a rape. It’s a coded account of the destruction of Catholic England, argues Clare Asquith

issue 01 December 2018

Shakespeare’s Rape of Lucrece is a puzzling and often terrible poem. Lucrece, the devout wife of Collatine, is raped by Tarquin, the son of the king of Rome. Her suffering inspires a revolution led by Brutus, and this is the beginning of the first Roman republic. It’s a rich myth of sex and politics, and Lucrece’s (or Lucretia’s) story was told by Ovid and painted by Rembrandt. Shakespeare returns to the episode in several plays, notably Cymbeline. But in the poem, written in early 1594, he apparently struggles to find the emotion and drama. Perhaps he was simply young; this was early in his career, and he is still learning. Perhaps it was too pragmatic; the poem is an attempt to secure aristocratic patronage from the Earl of Southampton. At almost 2,000 lines, it’s just too long. ‘As a human drama, it fails to arouse our sympathy,’ writes Clare Asquith in her new book about the poem, and describes it as ‘exhausting’ and ‘far from erotic’.

Comments

Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months

Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.

Already a subscriber? Log in