Santos 1

Reynan M. Santos

Mrs. Loida L. Garcia

ENGL-221 (Literary Criticism)

5 December 2017

Magnificence in Mother’s Decree: Through the Lens of Gender Criticism

The short story Magnificence (1939), written by Estrella Alfon, talks about the bravery
displayed by a mother against child molestation. This story shows the love of a mother for her
children that she will fight for them in times of catastrophe. “No language can express the power,
and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother’s love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and
grows stronger where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of its
quenchless fidelity like a star” (Chapin). Alfon took her part to create a feminist agenda in the
story. Thus, being a mother is not just being a mother who is typically a housewife, but also
being a strong woman who can protect anyone they love from male abuse or any abuse of the
society.

Gender criticism suggests that power is not just top down or patriarchal—a man
dominating a woman; it suggests that power is multifaceted and never just in one direction
(Cordell and Pennington). The short story will be analyzed using the three core components of
gender criticism. The first one is perspective, the second is power and the third one is gender
relations. Once the analysis has been done, it will be formulated to a synthesized conclusion
providing ideologies of gender stereotyping and gender roles and how these ideologies affect the
society.

In the beginning of the story, Alfon already provided gender juxtaposition by describing
Vicente as “… so gentle, so kind” (1; par. 1) and “ … his voice soft, his manner slow” (1; par. 1),
yet if we take another look, we know that these delineations are for women. Conversely, the
mother in the story was described as “… with eyes that held pride, and then to partly gloss over
the maternal gloating she exhibited” (2; par. 2) which when we examine, is a gender stereotype
for men. Another reversed gender illustration is when Alfon described the mother as a tall
woman as evident in this line, “and the mother knelt down, for she was a tall woman” (8; par.
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29). Since Estrella Alfon is a woman, she managed to offer a view of a woman who held pride,
therefore signaling a feminist based perspective. The short story used third person point of view
to relate the actions and feelings of the characters in the story. Alfon also changed the word
“mother” as shown in this line, “to their mother that he had never seen two children looking so
smart” (2; par. 2) to “woman” in the crucial point of the story which was evident on this line,
“Finally, the woman raised her hand and slapped him full hard in the face” (9; par. 36). Also,
when we check the perspective of the characters, we will be able to see how Alfon created
different stereotypes for these characters. At first, the author mentioned little girl and little boy,
but then changed to “both very tall for their age, and their legs were the long gangly legs of fine
spirited colts” (2; par. 2). And as for the father, Alfon concluded him with apathy shown in this
line, “And this observation their mother said to their father, who was eating his evening meal
between paragraphs of the book on masonry rites that he was reading” (4; par. 11).

Another core component of gender criticism in the short story is the classification of
power. Vicente’s occupation is “only a bus conductor” (4; par. 11) while the mother is a
president of their neighborhood association as shown in this line, “The praise had made their
mother look over them as they stood around listening to the goings-on at the meeting of the
neighborhood association, of which their mother was president” (2; par. 2). Here, we can see that
the tone of the mother in telling the occupation of Vicente is full of concern and pity, while she
was praised for being the president of their neighborhood association. Alfon presents the idea
that the mother is more dominant in terms of power than Vicente. Also, when we look at the
difference in the voice of Vicente, “his voice soft, his manner slow” (Alfon 1; par. 1) and the
mother, “The mother’s voice was of such a heavy quality and of such awful timbre that the girl
could only nod her head” (Alfon 8; par. 31), the story suggests that the mother is powerful than
Vicente. In terms of actions, there is no denial that the mother shown strength which was evident
in these lines, “Finally, the woman raised her hand and slapped him full hard in the face. Her
retreated down one tread of the stairs with the force of the blow, but the mother followed him”
(Alfon 9; par. 36) while Vicente depicted as the weak one, “He made no resistance, offered no
defense. Before the silence and the grimness of her attack he cowered, retreating, until out of his
mouth issued something like a whimper” (9; par. 37). Ergo, Alfon provided a more powerful
woman in the story in terms of social relations, actions, and dispositional abilities.
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Furthermore, Alfon created a much higher status symbol for the mother than the father in
the story. In the whole story, the mother was the one who protected her daughter from the
molestation of Vicente. Alfon really made a feminist agenda out of the story by also showing
that the father is in masonry, who was eating his evening meal between paragraphs of the book
on masonry rites that he was reading” (4; par. 11), while the mother, with pride and honor, was
the president of their neighborhood association. These points depict that the mother has more
authority in the house as she’s the one who makes the decisions. Magnificence also covers the
oppression of women as a gender through child or women molestation:

The man shook his head, and said nothing, but held her on his lap just the same.
The little girl kept squirming, for somehow she felt uncomfortable to be held thus,
her mother and father always treated her like a big girl, she was always told never
to act like a baby. She looked around at Vicente, interrupting her careful writing
to twist around. His face was all in sweat, and his eyes looked very strange, and
he indicated to her that she must turn around, attend to the homework she was
writing. (7; par. 22-23)

Alfon showed in the story that being a strong mother is the only option to protect your child or
children against this cruelty since the time where the piece was written, there were no laws for
child protection. The social expectations we have in the society suggest that the father is the one
who will protect us from any danger or malice, but in the story, Alfon proposed that a mother
could also protect her children in times of crisis. We also expect that we can trust anybody who
we know as kindhearted, and the family trusted Vicente but Vicente betrayed them by doing an
act of pedophilia. This is common in our society wherein anybody can be a great pretender.
Some people pretend to be nice to get what they want, an act of survival. According to Sigmund
Freud in his theory of psychoanalysis, he believed that “…the notion that human beings are
motivated, even driven, by desires, fears, needs and conflicts of which they are unaware…”
(Tyson 14-15) which gives us the impression that every human has desires they want to achieve
even if they will do something wrong.

Given all these points, I can say that Magnificence has a lot to share especially to the
women nowadays and to different genders. The story also gives us the impression that people
should not build trust easily regardless of the gender or character they have because they might
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have secret agendas behind. Also, Alfon showed to us that the implications of pedophiliac
inclinations were testimony that the sexual relationship between men and women has been seen
as the essential foundation for the psychological and physical dominion of male over female sex.
Moreover, the term ‘mother’ has been portrayed all the time in the story whenever she’s with her
children but when she needs to become strong, she made sure that she will turn into a woman of
strength and virtue to protect her loved ones—concluding that a mother who loves is a woman
who fights. Thus, the short story completely represents a celebration of the strength of women in
the society and shows the dominance of women over men in terms of gender roles and
stereotypes.
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Works Cited

Alfon, Estrella. “Magnificence.” Magnificence and Other Stories, 2nd ed., Regal Pub. Co., 1960,
pp. 1-11

Chapin, Edwin H. The Quote Garden. 1998, quotegarden.com/mothers.html

Cordell, Ryan, and John Pennington. Creating Literary Analysis. 2012,

2012books.lardbucket.org/books/creating-literary-analysis/s08-03-gender-criticism-and-
queer-the.html

Tyson, Lois. Critical Theory Today: A User-friendly Guide. Taylor & Francis, 2006.
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MAGNIFICENCE
Estrella D. Alfon

1 There was nothing to fear, for the man was always so gentle, so kind. At night when the
little girl and her brother were bathed in the light of the big shaded bulb that hung over the big
study table in the downstairs hall, the man would knock gently on the door, and come in. He
would stand for a while just beyond the pool of light, his feet in the circle of illumination, the
rest of him in shadow. The little girl and her brother would look up at him where they sat at the
big table, their eyes bright in the bright light, and watch him come fully into the light, but his
voice soft, his manner slow. He would smell very faintly of sweat and pomade, but the children
didn’t mind although they did notice, for they waited for him every evening as they sat at their
lessons like this. He’d throw his visor cap on the table, and it would fall down with a soft plop,
then he’d nod his head to say one was right, or shake it to say one was wrong.
2 It was not always that he came. They could remember perhaps two weeks when he
remarked to their mother that he had never seen two children looking so smart. The praise had
made their mother look over them as they stood around listening to the goings-on at the meeting
of the neighborhood association, of which their mother was president. Two children, one a girl of
seven, and a boy of eight. They were both very tall for their age, and their legs were the long
gangly legs of fine spirited colts. Their mother saw them with eyes that held pride, and then to
partly gloss over the maternal gloating she exhibited, she said to the man, in answer to his praise,
but their homework. They’re so lazy with them. And the man said, I have nothing to do in the
evenings, let me help them. Mother nodded her head and said, if you want to bother yourself.
And the thing rested there, and the man came in the evenings therefore, and he helped solve
fractions for the boy, and write correct phrases in language for the little girl.
3 In those days, the rage was for pencils. School children always have rages going at one
time or another. Sometimes for paper butterflies that are held on sticks, and whirl in the wind.
The Japanese bazaars promoted a rage for those. Sometimes it is for little lead toys found in the
folded waffles that Japanese confection-makers had such light hands with. At this particular
time, it was for pencils. Pencils big but light in circumference not smaller than a man’s thumb.
They were unwieldy in a child’s hands, but in all schools then, where Japanese bazaars clustered
there were all colors of these pencils selling for very low, but unattainable to a child budgeted at
a baon of a centavo a day. They were all of five centavos each, and one pencil was not at all what
one had ambitions for. In rages, one kept a collection. Four or five pencils, of different colors, to
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tie with strings near the eraser end, to dangle from one’s book-basket, to arouse the envy of the
other children who probably possessed less.
4 Add to the man’s gentleness and his kindness in knowing a child’s desires, his promise
that he would give each of them not one pencil but two. And for the little girl who he said was
very bright and deserved more, who would get the biggest pencil he could find.
5 One evening he did bring them. The evenings of waiting had made them look forward
to this final giving, and when they got the pencils they whooped with joy. The little boy had two
pencils, one green, and one blue. And the little girl had three pencils, two of the same
circumference as the little boy’s but colored red and yellow. And the third pencil, a jumbo size
pencil really, was white, and had been sharpened, and the little girl jumped up and down, and
shouted with glee. Until their mother called from down the stairs. What are you shouting about?
And they told her, shouting gladly, Vicente, for that was his name. Vicente had brought the
pencils he had promised them.
6 Thank him, their mother called. The little boy smiled and said, Thank you. And the
little girl smiled, and said, Thank you, too. But the man said, “Are you not going to kiss me for
those pencils?” They both came forward, the little girl and the little boy, and they both made to
kiss him but Vicente slapped the boy smartly on his lean hips, and said, boys do not kiss boys.
And the little boy laughed and scampered away, and then ran back and kissed him anyway.
7 The little girl went up to the man shyly, put her arms about his neck as he crouched to
receive her embrace, and kissed him on the cheeks.
8 The man’s arms tightened suddenly about the little girl until the little girl squirmed out
of his arms, and laughed a little breathlessly, disturbed but innocent, looking at the man with a
smiling little question of puzzlement.
9 The next evening, he came around again. All through that day, they had been very
proud in school showing off their brand new pencils. All the little girls and boys had been
envying them. And their mother had finally to tell them to stop talking about the pencils, pencils,
for now that they had, the boy two, and the girl three, they were asking their mother to buy more,
so they could each have five, and three at least in the jumbo size that the little girl’s third pencil
was. Their mother said, “Oh stop it, what will you do with so many pencils? You can only write
with one at a time.”
10 And the little girl muttered under her breath, I’ll ask Vicente for some more.
11 Their mother replied, He’s only a bus conductor, don’t ask him for too many things.
It’s a pity. And this observation their mother said to their father, who was eating his evening
meal between paragraphs of the book on masonry rites that he was reading. It is a pity, said their
mother, People like those, they make friends with people like us, and they feel it is nice to give
us gifts, or the children toys and things. You’d think they wouldn’t be able to afford it.
12 The father grunted, and said, the man probably needed a new job, and was softening
his way through to him by going at the children like that. And the mother said, No, I don’t think
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so, he’s a rather queer young man, and I think he doesn’t have many friends, but I have watched
him with the children, and he seems to dote on them.
13 The father grunted again, and did not pay any further attention.
14 Vicente was earlier than usual that evening. The children immediately put their
lessons down, telling him of the envy of their schoolmates, and would he buy them more please?
15 Vicente said to the little boy, Go and ask if you can let me have a glass of water. And
the little boy ran away to comply, saying behind him, But buy us some more pencils, huh, buy us
more pencils, and then went up to stairs to their mother.
16 Vicente held the little girl by the arm, and said gently, Of course will buy you more
pencils, as many as you want.
17 And the little girl giggled and said, Oh, then I will tell my friends, and they will envy
me, for they don’t have as many or as pretty.
18 Vicente took the girl up lightly in his arms, holding her under the armpits, and held
her to sit down on his lap and he said, still gently, what are your lessons for tomorrow? And the
little girl turned to the paper on the table where she had been writing with the jumbo pencil, and
she told him that that was her lesson but it was easy.
19 Then go ahead and write, and I will watch you.
20 Don’t hold me on your lap, said the little girl, I am very heavy, you will get very tired.
21 The man shook his head, and said nothing, but held her on his lap just the same.
22 The little girl kept squirming, for somehow she felt uncomfortable to be held thus, her
mother and father always treated her like a big girl, she was always told never to act like a baby.
She looked around at Vicente, interrupting her careful writing to twist around.
23 His face was all in sweat, and his eyes looked very strange, and he indicated to her
that she must turn around, attend to the homework she was writing.
24 But the little girl felt very queer, she didn’t know why, all of a sudden she was
immensely frightened, and she jumped up away from Vicente’s lap.
25 She stood looking at him, feeling that queer frightened feeling, not knowing what to
do. By and by, in a very short while her mother came down the stairs, holding in her hand a glass
of sarsaparilla, Vicente.
26 But Vicente had jumped up too soon as the little girl had jumped from his lap. He
snatched at the papers that lay on the table and held them to his stomach, turning away from the
mother’s coming.
27 The mother looked at him, stopped in her tracks, and advanced into the light. She had
been in the shadow. Her voice had been like a bell of safety to the little girl. But now she
advanced into glare of the light that held like a tableau the figures of Vicente holding the little
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girl’s papers to him, and the little girl looking up at him frightenedly, in her eyes dark pools of
wonder and fear and question.
28 The little girl looked at her mother, and saw the beloved face transfigured by some
sort of glow. The mother kept coming into the light, and when Vicente made as if to move away
into the shadow, she said, very low, but very heavily, Do not move.
29 She put the glass of soft drink down on the table, where in the light one could watch
the little bubbles go up and down in the dark liquid. The mother said to the boy, Oscar, finish
your lessons. And turning to the little girl, she said, “Come here.” The little girl went to her, and
the mother knelt down, for she was a tall woman and she said, “Turn around.” Obediently the
little girl turned around, and her mother passed her hands over the little girl’s back.
30 Go upstairs, she said.
31 The mother’s voice was of such a heavy quality and of such awful timbre that the girl
could only nod her head, and without looking at Vicente again, she raced up the stairs. The
mother went to the cowering man, and marched him with a glance out of the circle of light that
held the little boy. Once in the shadow, she extended her hand, and without any opposition took
away the papers that Vicente was holding to himself.
32 She stood there saying nothing as the man fumbled with his hands and with his
fingers, and she waited until he had finished. She was going to open her mouth but she glanced at
the boy and closed it, and with a look and an inclination of the head, she bade Vicente go up the
stairs.
33 The man said nothing, for she said nothing either. Up the stairs went the man, and the
mother followed behind. When they had reached the upper landing, the woman called down to
her son, Son, come up and go to your room.
34 The little boy did as he was told, asking no questions, for indeed he was feeling sleepy
already.
35 As soon as the boy was gone, the mother turned on Vicente. There was a pause.
36 Finally, the woman raised her hand and slapped him full hard in the face. Her retreated
down one tread of the stairs with the force of the blow, but the mother followed him. With her
other hand she slapped him on the other side of the face again. And so down the stairs they went,
the man backwards, his face continually open to the force of the woman’s slapping. Alternately
she lifted her right hand and made him retreat before her until they reached the bottom landing.
37 He made no resistance, offered no defense. Before the silence and the grimness of her
attack he cowered, retreating, until out of his mouth issued something like a whimper.
38 The mother thus shut his mouth, and with those hard forceful slaps she escorted him
right to the other door. As soon as the cool air of the free night touched him, he recovered
enough to turn away and run, into the shadows that ate him up. The woman looked after him, and
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closed the door. She turned off the blazing light over the study table, and went slowly up the
stairs and out into the dark night.
39 When her mother reached her, the woman, held her hand out to the child. Always also,
with the terrible indelibility that one associated with terror, the girl was to remember the touch of
that hand on her shoulder, heavy, kneading at her flesh, the woman herself stricken almost dumb,
but her eyes eloquent with that angered fire. She knelt, she felt the little girl’s dress and took it
off with haste that was almost frantic, tearing at the buttons and imparting a terror to the little girl
that almost made her sob. Hush, the mother said. Take a bath quickly.
41 Her mother presided over the bath the little girl took, scrubbed her, and soaped her,
and then wiped her gently all over and changed her into new clothes that smelt of the clean fresh
smell of clothes that had hung in the light of the sun. The clothes that she had taken off the little
girl, she bundled into a tight wrenched bunch, which she threw into the kitchen range.
42 Take also the pencils, said the mother to the watching newly bathed, newly changed
child. Take them and throw them into the fire. But when the girl turned to comply, the mother
said, No, tomorrow will do. And taking the little girl by the hand, she led her to her little girl’s
bed, made her lie down and tucked the covers gently about her as the girl dropped off into quick
slumber.