The concept of “yielding” comes up twice in The Turtle and his Paramour (Emblem 47)112. In both instances, this is an enforced situation with physical consequences. Can yielding to unwanted sexual advances ever be a form of consent?

In her study Writing Rape, Writing Women in Early Modern England, Jocelyn Catty explores the historical phenomenon of a “yielding rape” that casts women as both helpless victims and responsible agents: “although a woman is apparently not to blame for a ‘yielding-rape’, this definition [that is, the term ‘yielding rape’ itself] subtly allocates a degree of responsibility to her. However resolutely she may have clung to the ideal of chastity, however she may have resisted, if verbal threats or physical violence induce her to yield, she is technically consenting.”1

From the middle ages and persisting into the early modern period, women were expected to show visible signs of resistance in order to bring a legal rape case: “She must go at once and while the deed is newly done, with the hue and cry, to the neighbouring township and there show the injury done her to men of good repute, the blood and her clothing stained with blood, and her torn garments.”2 This onerous and unreasonable social expectation renders a “yielding rape” a non-starter for anyone hoping to bring a legal case against a rapist in court.

“Yielding rapes” can be found throughout early modern English literature, from Christopher Marlowe’s “Hero and Leander” (1598) to Thomas Middleton’s The Changeling (1622):

A less obvious but equally intriguing example can be found in John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book 4 (1664). Consider this passage in which Eve recounts her initial introduction to Adam, which also involves a brief chase and a physical encounter:

Eve “yields” when Adam “seizes” her hand. Is this a willing submission? What do you make of Eve’s attitude at the end of this excerpt as she retells this encounter in her own words?

For further reading: Helen Barker’s Rape in Early Modern England offers a reconsideration of the legal nuances of rape in the early modern period and considers the “culture of victim-blaming that remains a barrier for women bringing and succeeding with prosecutions today.”3 Melissa Sanchez’s Erotic Subjects: The Sexuality of Politics in Early Modern English Literature provides an excellent treatment of the sexual dimensions of early modern political theory, especially in terms of submission and subjection.4 And Peter Herman’s analysis of Pulter’s The Unfortunate Florinda accounts for the political dimensions of Pulter’s own understanding of rape: “rape and political theory were inextricably intertwined with each other, and Pulter’s treatment of rape overlaps with her treatment of political theory.”5

Footnotes