Much of John Webster's "The Duchess of Malfi" centers on the subversions and perversions of Ferdinand, the Duchess' brother. Ferdinand is an immensely disturbed man who has been driven to madness by his inability to control his sister and subsequent inability to control his own life. His incestuous desires, though subtle, fill him with the need to exert power over her, even if this leaves him unable to rule his land, his true domain. When he realizes that he cannot rule the Duchess, he begins to use legal rhetoric, positioning himself verbally, if not physically, as her judge. When this tactic fails him and he gives up even more control, Ferdinand loses control of his sanity. He develops a belief that he is a werewolf and cannot maintain a defined self. All these events begin, however, with his unnatural sexual desire for the Duchess. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay The reader realizes that something is wrong with Ferdinand's sexuality when he discovers that Ferdinand is not sexually active. Ferdinand is the only character in the play who is supposed to be sexually active, yet he is not. The cardinal is a holy man who has taken a vow of celibacy, but is having an affair with Giulia; he doesn't even seem to have any qualms about the shameless disregard he shows towards his grades. The Duchess marries Antonio and bears him children, implying that she is quite sexually active. However, because she is widowed, because her brothers forbid her to remarry, and because she promises to obey them, she should not have remarried. Julia is also involved in illicit sexual activity: she is married and is allowed to sleep with her husband, but chooses to sleep with others instead. Ferdinand, whose duty it is to father children who will rule in his place when he dies, fails to do so. The reader first recognizes that Ferdinand's unspent sexual energy is directed at his sister when he discovers that she has had a lover. Imagine quite vividly that she has indulged in the "shameful act of sin" with some strong-thighed boatman, or one from the lumberyard, who can hitch the sleigh or throw the bar, or even some lovely squire carrying the coals up to his latrine. accommodation. (II.5.43-46) Ferdinand also speaks of destroying her territory as effectively as he destroyed her honor: I could throw the palace on her ears, uproot her beautiful forests, blow up her meadows and reduce the its general territory. did his honors. (II.5.18-21) Ferdinand even goes so far as to talk about cutting the Duchess to pieces and then giving her son his handkerchief to wipe up the blood. He is not simply talking about punishment or retribution: he is talking about total annihilation. This reaction gains even more force in contrast with the cardinal's response. The cardinal does not seem upset at all: on the contrary, he is amazed at Ferdinand's anger and tries to calm him down, telling him that his anger is boundless and useless. The cardinal's only insult is aimed at the deceitful nature of women in general; he does not view the Duchess' actions as personally damaging and does not resort to violence in any form. The difference in the brothers' responses is staggering, and the fact that the two respond in such opposite ways is quite significant, especially since in the first act we are told that the brothers are like twins in their nature (I.1.172). Here we see that they are actually quite disparate: Ferdinand, unlike the cardinal, feels particularly powerful and passionate emotions towards hissister. Another bond that Ferdinand feels with his sister that the Cardinal does not share is that he and the Duchess are twins. . He speaks several times as if her blood were his blood - as if, because she is dirty, he is too; it's almost as if they are the same person. When he has her imprisoned, Bosola takes pity on her and asks the Duke if they can give her a prayer book and rosaries so that she can repent. Ferdinand denies it to him. He says that "[that] body of his, / while my blood flowed pure in it, was worth more / than that which you would comfort, called soul" (IV.1.123-25). The body of the Duchess, once dirty, cannot be cleaned any more than a soul can be purified through prayer. Once his body was defiled, so was his. Because he desires to control her (and, through her, himself), the duchess's actions turn Ferdinand's life upside down. When he suddenly discovers that she has been used by another, that she is actually owned by another, he feels that he too is controlled by someone else. The irony is that it is in Ferdinand's blood to be in control, to rule, but he fails to rule his sister, and therefore also fails as a duke. Ferdinand also fails to recognize what is within himself. Although the reader realizes that Ferdinand's actions depend on jealousy, it is unclear whether Ferdinand himself understands this. When he pays Bosola to spy on the Duchess, he refuses to give a reason. After her death, he laments: "I must confess, I had a hope, / If she were widowed, that I had gained / An infinite mass of treasures by her death; / And this was the chief cause [of my anger]" ( IV.2.282-285). But the question remains: do we believe him? More importantly, does Ferdinand believe his own words? Whether his rejection is real or feigned for Bosola's benefit, he will not admit the desires within him. At this point Ferdinand also admits the duchess's innocence and recognizes that he made a mistake in condemning her. He says, “I told you, when I was distracted, / Go and kill my dearest friend, and you did not” (IV.2.278-279). If he won't recognize his unnatural desire for his sister, he will at least recognize his mistake in misjudging her. This is a clear admission that you have lost control, even over your own thoughts. Many of Ferdinand's actions from that point on are attempts to regain that control - to feel, once again, as if he is in charge. Ferdinand achieves this by immediately assuming the air of a judge – the only position in his life in which he cannot be usurped. In his court, he is the judge and commander by law. He uses this position to his advantage, however unfairly. Delius says that "the law to him / Is like a foul black web to the spider: / He makes it his home and prison / To snare those who will feed him" (I. 1.177-180). He becomes his sister's self-appointed judge, imprisoning her and then sentencing her to death. After killing her, he returns to using legal language to reassure himself of his innocence in the matter. He says to Bosola: "Was I her judge? / Did some ceremonial form of law / condemn her to non-being? Did a full jury / deliver her sentence in court?” (IV.2.300-304) With these words Ferdinand declines all responsibility and attributes the responsibility for the murder to Bosola. He judges a man guilty, while at the same time admitting that he is not in control: he is not the judge. The duchess never went before a judge and, if she had, she would have been found innocent. The Duchess has committed no crime worthy of punishment by law, and certainly not punishable by death. Here Ferdinand tries to say that he did not judge her, but neglects to see that no one had the right to judge her, becausehe wasn't wrong. Ferdinand's "proof" that he had actually done something wrong was his husband. In his eyes, the existence of a mistress was more than enough to condemn her. Ferdinand has an obsession with evidence: evidence, no matter how trivial, allows him to justify his wrong actions. Ferdinand's obsession began with the name of the father of the Duchess' children. Although he found out very early on that she had given birth to a son, he waited several years and three children later to confront her about it, because he was waiting to know the father's name. This was quite useless, but Ferdinand needed reassurance. He imposes his need for proof on others too. To prove to the Duchess that he had killed Antonio and two of his children, he had an artist invent wax figures portraying them in a dead pose and hid them in his cell. Although his word would have been enough to make her believe they were dead, he feels the need to show her, to give her visual confirmation. The duchess's body, for him, is proof that their blood is ruined. For this reason he refuses to look at her once she is confronted about her alleged indiscretions. If he doesn't see it, he can't prove to himself that he did what he did. Even after her death, he says to Bosola: "Cover her face. My eyes dazzle; she died young" (IV.2.2); he doesn't want to see her, or acknowledge what he did to her. He says she "died young", as if she died of natural causes; this is because he is already in a state of denial, already refusing to take responsibility. Once the duchess is dead, he tells Bosola that "the she-wolf will find her grave and rake it, / Not to devour the corpse, but to discover / The hideous murder" (IV.2.310-312). By this he means that her body will be proof that she was massacred unjustly. This also foreshadows Ferdinand's illness: he believes he is a werewolf and digs up the graves of the dead. Without evidence, Ferdinand has no control. His feeling of helplessness is the cause of this obsession with evidence: he is constantly searching for something true, something that proves that he is whole. Our first impression of Ferdinand presents him as disjointed, not unified. The first time he is mentioned, Antonio says of him: "The Duke there? A perverse and turbulent nature. / What appears in him is only external cheerfulness; / If he laughs heartily, it is for laughter / All honesty is out of fashion. " " (I.1.169-172). The idea of ​​a difference between the "outside" and the "inside" of the Duke is fundamental: it is not just about what others see, but what he feels. "Madness it is conceived as a disorder or breakdown of the normative meaning of the body, signifying a disorder both within the subject and the state as the leader and the monarch share the same rule according to the metaphor of the body politic" (Salkeld 60). Ferdinand is subject to this disorder of mind and body, and this manifests itself in his madness. Madness is a sign of sovereignty in crisis, be it sovereignty of monarchy or of reason (Salkeld 60) – with Ferdinand he feels both that the monarchy is in crisis because the duchess married to a lower rank than hers, and his reason is in crisis because he wants her but cannot have her, and yet he has to have her killed: he has divided intentions, and because these intentions are not reconciled, he remains mad. This division in Ferdinand's psyche reveals itself in several ways. In his letter to Antonio he writes with double meanings. He says, “I want Antonio's head in a deal” and “I would rather have Antonio's heart than his money” (III.5.28,36). Through these lines he says both what can be taken at face value and what can be read below: that he wants Antonio in pieces. The Duchess sees through his duplicity and sends the, 1993.