Editorial note
Our “amplified” editions seek to make the poems as accessible as possible by modernizing spelling and punctuation and providing only brief definitions for words, while discursive notes and the materials we gather for the “curations” section place Pulter’s poems into conversations. Then we use the notes and the materials we gather for the “curations” section to place Pulter’s poems into conversations. As we build the curations for a given poem—provisional and quirky as they are—we keep returning to the poem, re-reading, rethinking, and adding layers to the notes. We hope to show that Pulter was intellectually and politically embedded rather than isolated, taking up issues, genres, and tropes that also interested her contemporaries and that sometimes accrue unpredictable salience in later periods. Rather than focusing only on possible sources or influences, we cast a wide net both within the seventeenth century and outside it, trying to catch cultural materials Pulter might have engaged, some she excludes or ignores, and even some she probably could never have imagined, but that might stir readers today to make new connections (to Harry Potter, for instance). In other words, our curations don’t precede the poems nor are they implied by the poems—as if the poem gathers them to itself (although it can sometimes feel that way) or hales them forth. Instead, as curators we weave the poem into a web of relations, seeking to open out rather than close down interpretive possibilities.
Headnote
One of a set of poison-duel poems (the other of which is Two Mountebanks (Emblem 6) [Poem 72]), “The Toad and Spider” touches on historical power contests over regal authority in order to critique courtiers’ obsession with short-lived success in court politics and women’s changing affections, forms of fame as easily uprooted as the toad’s plantain. Whereas “Two Mountebanks” can be read as a commentary upon the early modern contests over medical authority, “The Toad and Spider” goes one step further to critique the transient nature of any kind of earthly reputation. The duel between the toad and spider was a fairly common image and often paired with accounts of court intrigue (see Browne, Topsell, and “The History of the Second Death of the Rump” ballad in “Curations”), but Pulter seems to be unique in reaching back into Plantagenet history. Both duels center around charges of treason and the combatants’ concern with reputation: Shakespeare’s account of the duel in Richard II records that Mowbray and Bolingbroke disregard the king’s call for peace and insist on a duel to preserve their honor and good name. But just as the toad’s poison vanishes when the spectators remove the plantain, Bolingbroke and Mowbray’s titles and good names vanish when they incur the displeasure of the king. Pulter makes a comparison to courtiers chasing the favor of their ladies and monarchs, suggesting that “t’influence of a lady’s eye,” like the toad’s plantain, can easily be removed and thus does not serve as a stable basis for one’s reputation. While it is possible to read this poem as a critique of the excesses and ephemerality of court politics, Pulter, whose poems primarily espouse royalist views, stops short of critiquing the monarchy itself. She sidesteps the issue of monarchy’s hollow power and instead re-focuses on faith as a way to secure lasting reputation. In doing so, she scorns the various accessories and pastimes of the nobility: tournaments, courtly behavior, flirtation, plays, bird-keeping, and card-playing.Line number 9
Gloss note
settle or agree in a disputeLine number 11
Gloss note
accused of or charged with a crimeLine number 13
Gloss note
accusing someone of lying; contradicting the chargesLine number 17
Critical note
In Pulter’s MS, spelled “Moughbrough.” Likely a reference to the duel mentioned in Richard II 1.1, this assigns human (indeed noble) names to toad and spider. They become Mowbray and Bolingbrook for spectators.Line number 21
Gloss note
low-growing, oval-leaved medicinal herbLine number 21
Gloss note
As in “Two Mountebanks,” Pulter writes “eat” to mean “ate.”Line number 23
Gloss note
uprooted the plantainLine number 23
Critical note
As in Two Mountebanks (Emblem 6) [Poem 72], the original MS reads “strait,” which carries the sense of close-fitting, tight, and confined. As a noun, adverb, and adjective, “strait” may allow an alternate reading of the line, where "strait" modifies the toad’s agonies as he dies of poison.Line number 24
Gloss note
an enclosed space for tournamentsLine number 25
Critical note
The speaker’s claim to having witnessed jousts in “our English tilt-yard” may draw on Pulter’s experience in the years in which her father was a member of James I’s privy council. Perhaps she remembers here seeing a tournament before James I and his wife Anne—or someone else’s account of one. Hugely popular during Queen Elizabeth’s reign, ceremonial tournaments gradually fell out of favor and appear to have been out of fashion by the reign of Charles I and his queen, Henrietta Maria.Line number 26
Critical note
Several readings are possible here: “foiled” could mean that the knight fears to be outdone, defeated, or surpassed by his competitor; but also that he fears being enclosed in “foil,” metal armor. Given Pulter’s criticism of courtiers in this poem, “fearing to be foiled” might suggest the courtier’s apprehension at seeing military combat. See Two Mountebanks (Emblem 6) [Poem 72], for a similar crux with “feild,” which may be interpreted as “affected by touch; felled, as made to fall; foiled; failed; fielded, as in battled.”Line number 26
Critical note
See What Is a Mountebank? in the Curations for Two Mountebanks (Emblem 6) [Poem 72] for materials on the etymology of “toady,” a synonym for a sycophant or parasite, which dates back to the practices of early modern mountebanks.Line number 28
Critical note
Knights of the Carpet may refer to a person who is awarded a knighthood in times of peace, rather than awarded one through military or tournament success. However, in the sixteenth century, the term quickly became derogatory: John Ferne writes in his 1586 Blazon of Gentrie that “A Knight … may be dubbed … in the time of peace upon the carpet … he is called a knight of the carpet, because that the King sitteth in his regal chair of estate and the gentleman … kneeleth before his sovereign upon the carpet or cloth usually spread … for the sovereign’s footstool (105).” Carpet-Knight, then, came to be used as a term of contempt for a knight whose successes were in a lady’s carpeted chamber, with all its accompanying innuendo.Line number 31
Gloss note
the right mood for generosity or granting favorsLine number 36
Gloss note
whoeverLine number 40
Gloss note
existing beneath the sun; earthlyLine number 41
Gloss note
“Fabric,” with its Latin root fabrica, to work in metal, stone, or wood, can refer to a building, a structure, an engine or contrivance, or any manufactured material.Line number 43
Gloss note
Refers to those who “do on worldly vanities repose,” who build a tall structure out of flimsy materials as children do while playing. Pigeon houses are composed of small cubicles that resemble the structure of a house of cards.Line number 48
Critical note
Pulter’s moral echoes a common religious sentiment encouraging believers to focus on attaining heavenly treasures. Joseph Hall writes in his 1684 The Remedy of Discontentment that “It is for children to cry for the falling of their house of cards, or the miscarriage of that painted gewgaw which the next shower would have defaced. Wise Christians know how to apprize good things according to their continuance, and can therefore set their hearts only upon the invisible comforts of a better life, as knowing that the things which are not seen are eternal (28).” See Pigeon Houses of Cards in Curations for an excerpt from this text. Sorry, but there are no notes associated with
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