Spiller Elizabeth. Reading and the History of Race in the Renaissance
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Pamphilia’s black humor 169
(1.570). Yet, Pamphilia is clearly not another Zelmane, Pyrocles, or even
a new Musidorus.
Whatever medical texts might suggest as a biological fact about mel-
ancholy, Wroth in the Urania finds that melancholy works for female
characters in a narrative sense. Melancholy can be assimilated to female
virtue in ways that it cannot accord with male virtue: what are narra-
tive problems for Sidney become authorial solutions for Wroth. rough
melancholy, Wroth claims constancy without being compromised by the
kind of passivity that emasculates in Sidney. At the same time, by inte-
grating complective melancholy of the type that she found in contem-
porary travel narratives and ethnographic texts with Ficinian melancholy,
Wroth also lays claim through Pamphilia to a virtuous form of writing for
herself. Virtue in a woman does not demand what Musidorus demands
of Pyrocles – the virtue of “well doing,” “of put[ting] all these things in
practice” (Arcadia, 116). Female virtue instead typically involves restraint
and is thus a quality without an act of precisely the kind about which
Musidorus complains.
Sidney imagines melancholy as a transformative passion. As the nar-
rative develops, Musidorus and Pyrocles will change everything. Almost
wantonly, they alter or abandon gender, name, class, identity, desire,
clothing. All this flux, though, begins with their “great alteration” to – or
of – melancholy (Arcadia, 110). Once Pyrocles has seen Pamela
such a change was grown in [him] that (as if cheerfulness had been tediousness,
and good entertainment were turned to discourtesy) he would ever get himself
alone, though almost when he was in company he was alone, so little atten-
tion he gave to any that spake unto him. Even the colour and figure of his face
began to receive some alteration, which he shewed little to heed. (Arcadia, 109; my
emphasis)
e shepherds who bring Musidorus out of his melancholy by relating
their own versions and experiences of melancholy follow accepted medical
treatments. Musidorus, by contrast, instead tries to reason with Pyrocles,
but his attempts only further distemper his friend: with “the oft chan-
ging of his face,” “his words interrupted continually with sighs … [were
not] knit together to one constant end, but rather dissolved in itself as the
vehemency of the inward passion prevailed” (Arcadia, 113). Bewailing the
changes that have overcome Pyrocles, Musidorus calls out to his absent
friend: “Pyrocles, what means this alteration?” (Arcadia, 116).
Sidney emphasizes the transformative effect of melancholy – repeat-
edly characterizing it as an “alteration” – to invoke a previous, now lost,
heroic virtue in the implied narrative world that we are asked to imagine
Reading and the History of Race in the Renaissance170
having preceded the Arcadia. He constructs his narrative against the
frame implied by earlier versions of a Musidorus and Pyrocles who had
been heroic and virtuous before they wash up in Arcadia. at is, in
Sidney melancholy is a humor that allows one not so much to be heroic as,
through its genius, to tell stories of past heroisms rather than to achieve
new ones.
Humoral theory makes clear, though, that changeability is the keynote
of phlegm, not melancholy. What distinguishes cold, wet phlegm from
cold, dry melancholy is their different relationships to flux and constancy.
In the pseudo-Aristotelian Problemes, for instance, this distinction pro-
vides the answer to why fevers that arise out of melancholic imbalances
last longer than those that are phlegmatic in origin: “fleume, although it
be colde, and much of it, yet it is moyst, and moystnes is easily altered
and changed,” whereas “black choler or melancholy is cold and dry, and
therefore is hardly altered and chaunged.” e two humors “deceiue
therefore with the likenes of cold.”
46
e phlegmatic are cold but full of
moisture and, because of this fluidity, they are susceptible to alteration.
Melancholics, by contrast, are cold but dry. ey thus are comparatively
impervious to change: as a kind of burned away residue, melancholy is
the state after transformation rather than the possibility of it. Unlike
Sidney, Wroth recognizes this quality of melancholy in her depiction of
Pamphilia. Wroth thus begins with Pamphilia’s melancholy by introdu-
cing Pamphilia only after introducing her jealous rival, Antissia. Where
Musidorus and Pyrocles suffer a “great alteration” that seems to take
them from the sanguine to the phlegmatic, Pamphilia is unchanged, as
constant in her melancholy as in her love.
Wroth’s regendering of Sidney’s model of melancholy is enabled by
her strategy of conceiving of Pamphilia within a racially and geograph-
ically marked version of this humor. In the Hippocratic tradition, mel-
ancholy was understood to be a disease produced by the most corrupted
and inherently pathological of excess bodily fluids. From at least the time
of Plato and Aristotle, melancholy is variously associated with madness,
moral insanity, sexual excess, physical heroism, and great intellectual-
ism.
47
Sidney inherits this tradition from Ficino. Humoral theory was
more than just a medical model for understanding the human body,
though: the influence of Empedocles’ theory of the four elements and
seasons on the Hippocratic understanding of the humors of the body
meant that humoral theory was also a global theory. One’s temperament
might be produced by the inner fluids of the body but those were, in
turn, inseparable from and interdependent with the seasons, climate,
Pamphilia’s black humor 171
and environment.
48
Humoral theory was inherently geographical and cli-
matic: it explained not just what kind of person you were (as an individual
disposition), but also indicated where you came from and how that might
make you who you were (as a geographic identity and complexion).
Mary Floyd-Wilson recognizes this key feature of melancholy in her
work on the geo-humoral character of race and ethnicity in early modern
England. She suggests that humoral theory was geographically specific in
ways that made it a central expression of racial identity: humoralism is,
she concludes, “a form of ethnology.”
49
Melancholy looks different within
this larger geo-humoral context: in what might be imagined as a global
map of the temperaments that was as familiar to writers as it was to car-
tographers, melancholy was the “southern” humor. Whereas Scythians
and other northern peoples were thought to tend toward the phlegmatic,
melancholy was the humor of Egyptians, Ethiopians, and Africans.
Erwin Panofsky thus traces the history of associations between black bile
and black skin: while early writers such as Archigenes of Apamea identify
“dark skin” as symptom produced by melancholy, later writers who follow
the influence of Hippocratic understandings of climatic humors link the
two qualities more directly: Rufus of Ephesus characterized melancholics
as “swarthy”; Albertus Magnus likewise describes them as “nigri”; Johann
von Neuhaus as “corpus niger sicut lutum.” Renaissance compilations
clearly attribute this perspective to Aristotle: the Problemes simply intro-
duces the melancholy man as “swartie, browne of complexion.”
50
Albrecht Dürer’s “Melancholia” represents a new form of melan-
choly which was “black” only in an emotional or metaphorical sense.
As Panofsky makes clear, before Dürer melancholy always had a phys-
ically and literally dark face: “e child of Saturn and the melancholic –
whether melancholy through illness or by temperament – were by the
ancients reckoned swarthy and black of countenance.”
51
In this model,
interest in the blackness of southerners involved a form of ethnography
based on humoral distinctions rather than phenotypes. Pierre Charron’s
Of Wisdome (1612) offers an early modern codification of this strand of
cultural knowledge. “Northern people are High and great, phlegmaticke,
sanguine, white and yellow” in body; they are “heavy, obtuse, stupid, sot-
tish, facill, light, inconstant” in spirit. Southerners, by contrast, are “Little,
melancholicke, cold, and dry, black, Solitary” in body but “Ingenious,
wise, subtile, opinative” in spirit.
52
Juan Huarte, drawing on Galen, thus
notes that the “melancholicke humour is the author of integritie and
constancie.”
53
While Sidney’s melancholic tradition thus imagines that
melancholics tend toward madness and sexual lasciviousness, the broader
Reading and the History of Race in the Renaissance172
tradition that Wroth draws on in her depiction of Pamphilia instead asso-
ciates melancholy with wisdom, constancy, and sexual abstinence.
Pamphilia is the eldest daughter of the King and Queen of Morea in
central Greece. In a strictly geo-humoral sense, Pamphilia is a child of the
temperate zones and thus ought to have the model temperate disposition
(sanguinity) that was associated by Empedocles, Hippocrates, Aristotle,
and other Greek philosophers with what they took to be the balanced
center of the human world. While proto-racialist models of identity would
reassure English travelers that foreign climates could not hurt them or
alter their essential “Englishness,” humoral theory was predicated on a
very different understanding of the relationship between the body and its
world. Complexion – as a balance of fluids – by definition could never be
fixed or unchanging. In the humoral world, travelers might over time thus
alter and adopt the complexion and disposition “native” to the lands in
which they traveled. is is what seems happens to Pamphilia: originally
from Morea and presumably classically Greek, Wroth’s heroine comes to
inherit the kingdom of Pamphilia from her childless uncle. After he abdi-
cates his throne to her, she moves to this country in Asia Minor to rule
(1.100, 145). In some realistic sense it hardly seems likely that Pamphilia
could take on the character of her new country. She has never been there
before she is crowned its queen, and her coronation in Pamphilia is a
much deferred event that does not occur until fairly late in Part 1. Even
once queen, Pamphilia is rarely at home: right after the coronation, she
almost immediately leaves for the enchantments on Cyprus, while in
Part 2, one of the few state decisions she makes is to flee her country to
insure that her enemies attack her rather than the country.
Yet, Pamphilia is as much the place as the person. As Sheila Cavanagh
points out, “the person Pamphilia is often difficult to distinguish from the
country whose name she shares.”
54
For Wroth “Pamphilia” is almost cer-
tainly a place before it is a person. Noting that Pamphilia seems to have
acquired her name only at the point when she was “named” her uncle’s
heir, Cavanagh concludes that “her close affiliation with this unknown
country destabilizes her identity” in ways that seem to run counter to
Pamphilia’s defining virtue of constancy.
55
inking about the iconog-
raphy of Pamphilia as a place makes it clear that Wroth names her char-
acter precisely as a means of creating a constant and stable identity for
her. We should not imagine that “Pamphilia” was something else – had
some previous identity or earlier passion – before we began reading the
Urania. For Wroth the point is that she has always been as she is and can-
not be otherwise: her passion and the constancy that goes with it extend
Pamphilia’s black humor 173
backwards as well as forwards. It is important to recognize how Pamphilia
differs in this respect from Musidorus and Pyrocles. While their previous,
pre-Arcadian identities become a central subject in the inset, retrospective
tales that emerge out of their melancholy, Wroth creates “Pamphilia” and
marks her identity as created precisely because she wants her readers to
experience and understand Pamphilia as always constant.
Pamphilia, the country, is a place Wroth identifies iconographically
with melancholy and constancy. As a character Pamphilia embodies
those qualities. During Wroth’s lifetime Pamphilia was ruled by the
Ottoman Turks. Pierre d’Avity thus devotes a long section of his geo-
graphic account, e Estates, Empires, and Principalities of the World
(1616), to the lands in Europe, Asia, and Africa that were subject to the
“ambition and crueltie” of the mighty Süleman I, “who is become such
a terrour to all Christendome.”
56
In Asia Minor, as d’Avity reports, “the
great Turke” rules over a “great tract of countrie” that includes the prov-
inces of “Pontus, Bynthias, Asia, Lycia, Galacia, Pamphylia, Capadocia,
Cilicia, and Base Armenia.”
57
It is for this reason that Bernadette Andrea
asserts that “underlying all the movements in Wroth’s romance, then, is
the powerful subtext of Ottoman imperialism.”
58
Wroth’s fiction maps
contemporary concerns about the geo-political reality that seventeenth-
century Europe confronted with Turkish military dominance and reli-
gious imperialism. In Part 2, Pamphilia’s country remains a sovereign
state but is repeatedly attacked and challenged by Turks, Saracens, and
other violent infidels who threaten to make her realms into a fictional
enactment of what writers such as d’Avity regarded as Pamphilia’s real life
subjugation to the “ambition and crueltie” of the “great Turk.”
In Part 1 of the Urania, though, Pamphilia appears as a southern land
as much as it does an eastern one. Wroth’s sources for her representations
of Pamphilia, as a place and person, come out of Pliny, Herodotus, and,
most importantly, the Acts of the Apostles. For these writers, Pamphilia
is part of the circular geographical perimeter that sweeps south and then
west across the northern part of Africa to Egypt and Libya. In a histor-
ical sense, Pamphilia is not as Wroth represents it: like other provinces
in this contested region, Pamphilia was always being conquered by or
intermarried with someone: it was governed or subjected to Alexander
the Great, the Ptolemies, the Cilicians, and the Seleucids, among others.
59
Pamphilia is thus a place of mixed races and peoples. Herodotus records
that Pamphilia was settled by Achaeans who intermarried with native,
non-Greek peoples after the Fall of Troy.
60
In the Acts of the Apostles,
Paul’s missions spread the Word throughout this region; he ultimately
Reading and the History of Race in the Renaissance174
sails over the Sea of Pamphilia only to be shipwrecked on the way to
Rome. Here, too, Pamphilia is associated with a larger mixing of peoples
and languages: Paul’s travels are themselves the geographic consequence
of the Pentecostal gift of tongues. e Pamphilians are one among the
many peoples gathered in witness of this event: “Parthians, and Medes,
and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, and in Judaea, and
Cappadocia, in Pontus, and in Asia. Phrygia, and Pamphylia, in Egypt,
and in the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews
and proselytes, Cretes and Arabians, we do hear them speak in our own
tongues.”
61
e Rhodian Greeks, who did not understand the language of
the region, interpreted its name as “pam-phylos,” and thus comprehended
this to be the “land of all races.” e various tribes that come together to
form Pamphilia – the Egyptian, the Macedonian, the Phrigian – these
are the regions noted for their melancholy dispositions.
For Charron, southerners are “Little, melancholicke, cold, and dry,
black, Solitary” in body but “Ingenious, wise, subtile, opinative” in mind.
is description of the humoral disposition and complexion of southerners
serves as a fairly good template for understanding Pamphilia’s character.
Melancholic, solitary, black, ingenious, wise, subtle, cold, and opinionate,
Pamphilia carries these qualities in her person as if she were a country
unto herself. roughout Part 1, Pamphilia always seems to be traveling,
always about to embark on a series of ever-delayed journeys to (and inter-
spersed with rarely protracted visits in) Pamphilia. When Pamphilia trav-
els to the country she reigns over, she follows in the footsteps of Homer’s
Amphilochus and Calchas and the Acts’ Paul. She takes over and claims
as her own the disposition that one might ordinarily expect to see in the
people of this region. In Part 1, she makes three trips to her new country.
e first time, she sails “with happy and pleasant content” (1.149). After
that, though, the country’s joyousness contrasts sharply with her melan-
cholic humors: on a second trip, “with infinite joy, and troopes of people,
shee was received,” but Pamphilia herself remains melancholy (1.266); on
the next trip, “the people from all parts come to see her, and joy in her
presence, while she joyed in nothing” (1.484). In taking on the country’s
traditional humor along with its name, Pamphilia becomes like her own
country. Melancholy is a land that Pamphilia never leaves, wherever she
may travel.
Wroth stresses that, despite expectations we might have from humoral
handbooks, “change” of place does not alter Pamphilia’s humor or change
her complexion. In Part 1, Book 3, the always traveling Pamphilia com-
plains to Urania: “ ‘I would,’ said Pamphilia, ‘we were gone from hence. I
Pamphilia’s black humor 175
hate this Corinth, and long to see Arcadia againe’ ” (1.458). Urania remon-
strates with her and questions, “will your sadnesse end then?” (1.459).
Pamphilia admits that it would not: “change cannot nor must not aspire
to worke such effect in mee” (1.459). In this conversation, Pamphilia reso-
lutely resists any double meanings to the word “change”: change of place
does not entail any more fundamental inconstancy. It is out of this refusal
that she startlingly identifies change itself as a humor and one that she
will not allow in herself: “if I let in that worthlesse humor change, which I
can never doe till I change my selfe … Pamphilia will not change” (1.459).
In the fluid model of identity and emotion imagined by Galenic humors,
changeability is a part of the basic structure of disposition: indeed, it is
the interval between the humors. For Pamphilia, though, change becomes
not the interval between humors but a disposition in its own right and
one that she refuses.
While Pamphilia is herself a kind of boundless land of melancholy,
her geographic namesake seems to lose that humor to her. e country
Pamphilia becomes not a place of melancholy, as we might expect, but
the cure for it. At the end of Book 4, the admittedly fickle Cauterino
meets a fair and wanton Lady. As part of her attempt to seduce Cauterino,
the Lady tells a story about a special water to be found in the land of
Pamphilia: “I undertooke a journey into Pamphilia, where it is said, there
is a water, that will recover all diseases, ease all griefes, especially take
away all melancholies” (1.610). Whether a cure or a cause, a land or the
person of its qualities, Pamphilia is clearly associated with the “grief” of
melancholy but, because of that, not with the humor of change.
ese humoral attributes of black melancholy are, in turn, evident in
Pamphilia’s complexion. Pamphilia is clearly and unexceptionally beau-
tiful, but she is not fair in comparison to her fictional alter egos and in
the terms that romance usually expects of its heroines. Amphilanthus’
complexion, for instance, is much easier to see and interpret than is
Pamphilia’s: his appearance conforms to romance expectations even when
his behavior does not. Amphilanthus is always identified as “fair,” and this
quality serves to distinguish him from other characters who try to usurp or
emulate his identity. e “false Amphilanthus” is thus castigated as a “fair
false man” in terms that might well apply to Amphilanthus (1.299), but in
the end Perissus is able to separate the true Amphilanthus from the false
one on the basis of physical complexion (1.356). e Ambassador to the
King of Candia is a darker-complexioned version of Amphilanthus: “For
Complection, haire, and all loveliness soe like Amphilanthus … Onely
beeing neerer the sunn, hee had more hardly used him in roughly kissing
Reading and the History of Race in the Renaissance176
then hee had Amphilanthus” (2.58). e Prince of Transylvania likewise
resembles Amphilanthus in both his actions and person, but “if well
marked” can be recognized as “short of him in stature, more in shape,
and colour being blacker, and most in sweetenes, and perfect lovelynes”
(1.586). Despite his failures and misjudgments, Amphilanthus always
remains the most light-skinned, fair-headed, and white-attired of the
knights in the Urania.
is same structure of physical identity continues for Amphilanthus in
Part 2. Pamphilia encounters a knight in unfamiliar armor with a close
beaver, but she nonetheless recognizes Amphilanthus by the color of his
hands: “His hands bare, she was soone assured who itt was, for though
the strongest and bravest man breathing, yett hee had hands of that del-
icasie for pure whitenes, delicate shape, and softnes, as noe lady could
compare with them” (2.197). e colors “black” and “tawny” are never
associated with Amphilanthus as designations for skin color or complex-
ion. Amphilanthus takes on these colors in his armor, but only tempor-
arily in ways that remind Wroth’s readers that his first and truest armor
was probably his original all white armor (1.99). In the enchantment at
the rone of Love, Pamphilia castigates Amphilanthus for his repeated
changes to his colors, asking “do you adde to your inconstancy, as fast as
to your colours?” (1.165). As her complaint suggests, Amphilanthus’ incon-
stancy is a color, but it never colors him. Whatever his moral qualities
and personal failings, Amphilanthus conforms physically to assumptions
concerning the visible manifestation of heroic and noble virtue (the fair
are fair, the nobility noble) that had defined romances such as Amadis.
Equally importantly, Amphilanthus’ fairness of complexion allows him
to be legible and identifiable as such by both other characters and the
readers of Wroth’s romance.
Pamphilia is not fair like Amphilanthus, and her identity is less com-
patible with the conventions of romance identity. Pamphilia is never quite
readable as being as black as she might imagine herself when she says
that she would rather be a “black-moor,” but the narrative repeatedly
compares Pamphilia’s skin and complexion to those of Philistella (1.263),
Antissia (1.37, 1.61), Urania (1.37), Limena, Lindafillia (2.168), and even
Amphilanthus. In these comparisons, Wroth depicts Pamphilia’s skin as
less fair, more dark, or ultimately, in some manner, neither light nor dark
in ways that make her person and her emotions harder to read within the
traditional terms of the genre.
Pamphilia’s complexion and disposition are first introduced relation-
ally through the figure of Antissia. e comparison between Pamphilia’s
Pamphilia’s black humor 177
and Antissia’s fairness is made in passing by Allimarlus (1.37), but the first
moment at which we really have a sense of Pamphilia as a character is when
she complains about Antissia’s white complexion. When Amphilanthus
brings “the faire Antissia” (1.61) to the Morean court, he praises Antissia
so strongly that Pamphilia responds by dismissing Antissia’s “extreame
whitenesse”:
For truly my Lord … me thinkes there is not that beautie in her as you speake
of, but that I have seene, as faire and delicate as shee; yet in truth shee’s very
white, but that extreame whitenesse I like not so well, as where that (though not
in that fulnesse) is mix’d with sweete lovelines; yet I cannot blame you to thinke
her peerelesse, who viewes her but with the eyes of affection. (1.61)
Readers have tended to accept Amphilanthus’ interpretation of this
scene: Pamphilia is jealous and her attitude toward Antissia expresses the
jealousy of a “Womanish disposition” (1.61).
62
Antissia functions within
Part 1 of Wroth’s narrative as a counterpoint to Pamphilia in that she rep-
resents a different model of passion (both amorous and humoral) and,
with those, a different kind of writing (good and constant writing which
emerges out of melancholy as opposed to the jealousy-driven writing that
emerges out of Antissia’s dominant choler and which ultimately leads her
to madness).
63
ese differences in physical and authorial disposition are
marked in the text as differences in complexion as well. Jealousy becomes
Antissia’s signature and, if Pamphilia expresses that disposition here, then
it is primarily a way for Wroth to shift that emotion away from Pamphilia
and onto Antissia.
is scene is less about Pamphilia’s jealousy than it is about her mel-
ancholy. Immediately after this conversation, Pamphilia withdraws to her
room, “to breath out her passions,” to lament to the moon the “broken
joyes, blacke despaires, incirckling me,” and to write and then immedi-
ately destroy the first of many verses about her love and “silly woes” (1.62).
In a gesture that marks Wroth’s interest in creating Pamphilia within a
racially-inflected model of melancholy, Pamphilia’s conversation about
Antissia’s white skin thus leads to the first expression of the black melan-
choly “which abounded in the Princesse” (1.63).
roughout the romance Pamphilia’s complexion is never itself
described in the ways that those of Antissia, Urania, Limena, Lindafilia,
or Amphilanthus are. At best, we always see her standing, shadowed,
alongside a fairer companion. Pamphilia may be fair and then dark, but
the shift between the two is a narrative one, not a character one, a change
in how and what we see rather than in how Pamphilia herself is. In
Reading and the History of Race in the Renaissance178
contrast to Amadis, Orlando, Quixote, and Pyrocles, Pamphilia does not
change. She does not “become” dark in her melancholy. Because Sidney
is working within the Ficinian tradition that links Plato’s “divine furor”
to the pseudo-Aristotelian Problem 30, he necessarily conceives of mel-
ancholy as a transformation, a falling away that begins in the mind and
soul and then extends to the body. e emotional and spiritual degrad-
ation of the once heroic Pyrocles thus expresses itself as a physical darken-
ing of his complexion: “Even the colour and figure of his face began to
receive some alteration” (Arcadia, 109). Rejecting this fiction of the phys-
ically transformative consequences to the passion of melancholy that she
inherits from Montalvo, Ariosto, and Sidney, Wroth never suggests that
the “color and figure” of Pamphilia is in any way a degradation. By being
told that she is fair but then seeing her as dark in the important first scene
of Pamphilia’s recurring “blacke despaires,” we instead are given the con-
stancy of passion without the inconstancy implied by a moment of origin,
love without the falling and passion without transformation.
In the same way that Wroth only names Pamphilia at the moment
that she inherits her identity, Wroth attributes a darker complexion to
Pamphilia from the beginning precisely as a way of protecting Pamphilia
from the defects, medical or narrative, that would be associated with inti-
mations of changeability. Her having a dark complexion (being less fair
than Antissia or Philistella or Limena) is what enables Wroth to attribute
to Pamphilia the humor of melancholy. at is, by associating Pamphilia
with the humors and complexional disposition of the “Black-moore” that
Pamphilia ultimately but despairingly wishes she were, Wroth makes
it possible to construct a melancholic character who embodies her own
“spotlesse affection” (1.63), the love that she will later describe to Antissia
as “a love more pure, / en spotlesse white” (1.146).
In suggesting that Pamphilia’s alter egos (Philistella, Urania, Antissia,
Lindafillia) are all represented as being whiter and fairer than she, my
goal is not to trace out a racially-inflected binarism running through
Wroth’s romance. is would be a mistake for two reasons. First, Wroth
generally resists our attempts to impose order onto the multiple and
multivalent form of the Urania. Second, it is important not to bring what
Roxann Wheeler identifies as “our current preoccupation with chroma-
tism” back to Wroth.
64
In this respect, I would reassess Hall’s conclusion
that Pamphilia differs from the other characters because she tries to tran-
scend or subvert the binaries of black and white that are imposed upon
her by a male world. Pamphilia does transcend those categories, but it is
not because she somehow anticipates either the emergence of racialism or