22 pages 44 minutes read

The Flea

Fiction | Poem | Adult | Published in 1633

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Symbols & Motifs

The Flea

For a romantic poet seeking symbols in the natural world that are appropriate to celebrate the tectonic pull and gravitational magic of love, there is no shortage of suggestive possibilities: turtle doves, swans, butterflies, wild horses, dolphins, even ladybugs. But fleas? With the possible exception of rats, fleas would represent to a Renaissance culture (and perhaps even to ours) a most disturbing, even disgusting symbol to appropriate for a love poem. Fleas live on the blood of other animals. They bite. They cause inflammations. They are parasites. They are a nuisance, then as now. In a poem about making love, to use the symbol of a flea and its opportunistic predatory feeding on the blood of its victims, often in turn spreading diseases including the much-feared bubonic plague, the poet must either be woefully misinformed about bugs or wonderfully ironic.

The flea represents how flippant and indifferent to the emotional depth of his potential lover the speaker is. The gross little bug who has bitten both the man and the woman and in whom their blood is mingling becomes a convenient point of argument for the speaker, reaching for a handy metaphor as part of his attempt to seduce a reluctant woman. He delights himself in turning such a disgusting creature into a viable symbol for lovemaking. The symbol at once reveals the shallowness of his love and his narcissistic fascination with his own cleverness. The flea becomes a twisted symbol for how the speaker sees lovemakers should be—casual, enjoying the consummation of vital bodily fluids without all the fuss of courtship much less the burden of commitment: “This [bug] enjoys before it woo[s]” and is now satisfied, “pampered,” its belly now swollen with their blood (Lines 7, 8). By using a predatory, opportunistic pest as symbol for love, the speaker unintentionally reveals his own predatory, opportunistic, pest-like self.

Sin

For a contemporary culture, the idea of associating premarital sex with sin and/or considering sex an action with cosmic ramifications might seem quaint, even amusing. For a Renaissance culture, sin was anything but a symbol. Within the Judeo-Christian culture, influential despite Europe’s gradual movement away from the authority of the Church, sin was very real; it was a grave insult to an omnipotent, omniscient God who took such transgressions as meaningful and the sinner as ultimately accountable. For the Renaissance Christian culture, sin represented a deviant abuse of the intellect and a clear lack of control over the appetites.

The speaker’s insouciant, even playful use of the concept of sin here as a way to try to sabotage his potential lover’s understandable hesitation to risk her very soul just to lay with him reveals the speaker’s contempt for the Christian notion of sin. In the second stanza, when the speaker compares the two lovers, their blood now in the flea, he makes the bug a symbol of the Trinity; when he compares the flea to marriage and even to a temple; when he compares the act of premarital sex and its presumed impact as a deadly sin to little more than a flea bite in the final stanza, the speaker reveals his own lack of spiritual and moral sensitivities.

In the end, the poem uses sin as a strategy to convince the woman to commit sin. It is an extravagantly cynical perception of a Church that, at least when Donne was growing up, meant much to him, even defined him. Biographers know that during his early twenties, when this poem was composed, Donne drifted away from his moral foundation in the Church and lived a life of licentious behavior in London. Only later, after his much-vaunted conversion to the Anglican faith that would ensure him political advancement, did Donne return to the moral and spiritual guidance of the Church (he much admired the conversion narrative of St. Augustine, who also went through a period of bohemian behavior before returning to his faith). Thus, it matters that the speaker uses sin as a strategy for seduction. For the young and dashing Donne who writes the poem, sin was an ironic bugaboo that here he delights in lampooning. For the later Donne, such carnal games-playing would reflect a life being wasted in the pursuit of empty pleasures of the corrupt flesh.

Blood

At stake in the poem is the virginity of the woman. Thus, the poem freely (and bawdily) introduces lots of blood imagery, including this line: “In this flea our two bloods mingled be” (Line 4). Blood imagery references not only the medical reality of a woman bleeding the first time her hymen is penetrated but plays as well into the speaker’s crafty delight in infusing his rhetoric of seduction with the vocabulary and imagery of Christianity, specifically the sacred blood of Christ spilled on Good Friday.

In addition, using the blood-sucking parasite allows the speaker to fashion what is perhaps his most audacious (and hilarious) rationale for the woman to relent and surrender her virginity to his wiles. In the Renaissance, sex was held to be an intense, invasive biological action in which, by force of the man’s pressured thrusts, the blood of the two lovers actually mingled. In this fusion of two partners (which alone caused pregnancy), sex was seen as both an intense and messy thing, a violation of separate identities into the very real bloodstream of the woman. That concept gave sex, particularly initiation sex, a drama and a gravitas that was only underscored by the additional weight of the extensive Church doctrines on sex itself as a moral sin of significant consequence.

The speaker uses this idea of blood to render sex itself, ironically, as trivial and not worth the anxiety, worry, and guilt that the woman feels. Look at this flea, he says. It bit both of us, sucked both of our blood. And here it is, this tiny blood-engorged parasite, fat with our blood, content, quiet, happy. If the sexual act fuses us in the bug’s bloodstream, well, how is this any different? The man and woman, in a sense, have already had sex because their blood is now part of the flea’s blood stream.

blurred text
blurred text
blurred text
blurred text
Unlock IconUnlock all 22 pages of this Study Guide

Plus, gain access to 8,800+ more expert-written Study Guides.

Including features:

+ Mobile App
+ Printable PDF
+ Literary AI Tools