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The poem ?The Critick and The Writer of Fables? published in 1713 by Anne Kingsmill Finch, Countess of Winchilsea, is an ambitious attempt at a satirical play on gendered and formal limitations of Augustan poetry. The critick is representative of a male poetic society, and yet by acquiring a voice from Finch within the poem, it appears to represent one side of Finch?s own internal debate in deciding where her writing belongs. She makes a case for a new style of writing by satirizing the forms already in existence. The poem, at once, exemplifies an Augustan commentary about poetic definition while it inserts the thinly veiled female object of Finch, the fable writer, as the subject in the style of the Romantic poets. Finch carves a place for her own poetry between the satirical, warring poet and the pastoral, peaceful muse, making room for her various resulting combinations. Finch?s poetry resides somewhere between two chronological, poetic traditions, as well as a gender division, without fully occupying any one more than another. It is in her displacement that she finds her own space.

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Challenging the Reproduction of Gender Inequality in Anne Bront??s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

In Anne Bront?’s novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, ideological apparatuses, as defined by Marxist theorist Louis Althusser, work to mold and sustain vast differences between men and women in the early nineteenth century. Each gender is groomed to occupy a separate societal sphere, men as master of the public realm and women as mistress of the domestic. These distinctions foster inequality and oppression of women, yet they are consistently reinforced by both genders within the patriarchal system. The danger of such inequality, at worst, allows for the abuse and silent oppression of women while, at the very least, it reproduces the same oppressive social system from generation to generation. Helen Huntingdon, the novel?s heroine, is the tool by which Bront? experiments with an alternate existence. Helen challenges the traditional role of motherhood by raising her son Arthur differently than a more traditional mother, Mrs. Markham. She also takes issue with the oppressive nature of marriage for women. By examining the cycle in which inequality of gender is enforced and reproduced, Bront? successfully confronts the traditional Victorian ideals which foster inequality, vice and abuse.

Bront??s Markham family is the epitome of late nineteenth century societal views. The topics that Mrs. Markham, as an authority on traditional Victorian motherhood, uses to reprimand Helen are telling of the general opinion of her day. Her first criticism is of Helen?s wine restriction for her young son, Arthur, which in turn leads to a critique of Helen?s child rearing practices in general. “If you would have your son walk honourably through the world, you must not attempt to clear the stones from his path, but teach him to walk firmly over them — not insist upon leading him by the hand, but let him learn to go alone” (Bront? 28). Mrs. Markham is arguing that a young boy?s education requires experience, not shelter, and that a mother?s role is to be unobtrusive, not overbearing. Mrs. Markham undermines her own authority by requiring a man with religious authority, the vicar, to validate her claim on this tradition. ?[M. Millward will] tell you the consequences; ?he?ll set it before you as plain as day, ?and tell you what you ought to do? (Bront? 30). In doing so, Mrs. Markham maintains a discriminatory stance for herself and broadcasts it among her parlor. In the vicar?s absence, Gilbert defends the veracity of his mother’s words, unaware of his own role in reinforcing the societal precedent. He reiterates what his mother had said, that Helen must not shelter her son like a hot-house plant. “Shielding it from every breath of wind, you could not expect it to become a hardy tree, like that which has grown up on a mountain-side, exposed to all the action of the elements” (Bront? 30). Laura Berry?s scholarly article, ?Acts of Custody and Incarceration in Wuthering Heights and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,? addresses this ideology:

Bront??s fictions deny the idea of sentimentalized motherhood as a potential haven from imprisoning or torturous anti-familial or institutional structures. If homes imprison, mothers do not, in this novel, liberate ? The family then is the place where gender difference is created. It is by ?protection? and ?influence? that a mother forms a daughter; but ?making a man? of a boy is achieved in giving him a liberal hand. (Berry )

Essentially, as is evident within the previous passages, mothers are expected to remain in the domestic realm and to mature their sons through the freedom of experience, an effort championed by free men and sanctioned by the church. Interestingly, both genders within the same family share this male-centric point of view, one perpetuated unawares until Helen challenges the requirements of motherhood.

Mrs. Markham is not without defiance within her own household. Her daughter Rose naturally opposes her mother?s reverence toward her brothers, sensing through her societal innocence, the disparity between herself and them. She complains to Gilbert when asked to make him tea once tea time is over, ?you?we can?t do too much for you ? I?m nothing at all ? I?m told not to think of myself? (Bront? 53). Rose is young and still in training. Her burning opposition is repeatedly snuffed out by her mother’s constant discipline in accordance with the laws of gender. ?You know, Rose, in all household matters, we have only two things to consider, first, what?s proper to be done, and secondly, what?s most agreeable to the gentlemen of the house?anything will do for the ladies? (Bront? 53). According to feminist theorist Judith Butler in her essay ?Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity,? the body becomes a cultural sign:

Gender is, thus, a construction that regularly conceals its genesis; the tacit collective agreement to perform, produce, and sustain discrete and polar genders as cultural fictions is obscured by the credibility of those productions?and the punishments that attend not agreeing to believe in them; the construction ?compels? our belief in its necessity and naturalness. (Butler 2500)

Rose doesn?t naturally understand the distinction between genders because it doesn?t naturally exist. Mrs. Markham, having fully absorbed gender ideology, believes that not only must she conform, she must teach Rose to conform as well; to submit to the rules of difference is preferable to the punishment offered if either one of them does not.

This snapshot of Victorian life demonstrates that religion, motherhood and education are the vehicles which perpetuate rather than challenge the rule of inequality. According to Marxist theorist Louis Althusser in ?Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses,? an imaginary social construct is used to coerce submission to and reproduction of the labor condition. This ensures the power of the ruling class:

Of course many ? contrasting Virtues (modesty, resignation, submissiveness on the one hand, cynicism, contempt, arrogance, confidence, self importance, even smooth talk and cunning on the other) are ? taught in the Family, in the Church ?in a variety of know-how wrapped up in the massive inculcation of the ideology of the ruling class that the ? relations of exploited to exploiters, and exploiters to exploited are largely reproduced. (Althusser 1495)

The domestic realm espouses the Ideological State Apparatus (ISA), particularly as it functions within the previously mentioned private, rather than governmental, realms of religion, family and education. In addition to class division, this enforced separateness also applies to gender, illustrating the masculine social power driving women into submission. Within Helen?s first marriage to Huntingdon, she has assumed the role of modesty and submission in response to his self importance, smooth talk and cunning. Helen understands the failure of this system for women and seeks an escape from its grasp.

Bront? intentionally creates the Markham setting ripe for Helen’s retort, allowing her to challenge not only the way in which men are socially groomed, but to rebuke the male dominant religious authority over the subject. ?Mr. Markham here, thinks his powers of conviction at least equal to Mr. Millward?s. If I hear not him, neither should I be convinced though one rose from the dead? (Bront? 30). Holding fast to her spirituality while simultaneously rejecting the domination of religion, Helen directs her rebuttal to Gilbert, specifically challenging the unseeing portion of his male point of view. She asks how he would raise a girl as compared to a boy:

You affirm that virtue is only elicited by temptation; — and you think that a woman cannot be too little exposed to temptation … It must be, either, that you think she is essentially so vicious, or so feeble-minded that she cannot withstand temptation ? whereas, in the nobler sex, … exercised by trial and dangers, is only further developed. (Bront? 30-31)

By exposing the duplicity between the rearing of young men and women, Helen logically questions whether or not Gilbert believes feminine character and virtue is inherently fallible. Gilbert trapped within the machine of a defunct society, objects. ?Heaven forbid that I should think so!? (Bront? 31). Herein lies exposed a great contradiction between the practice of a disguised lack of faith in women and the heralded ideal of the virtuous “angel in the house.”

Seeking balance and equality, Helen defends her practice as a mother with a strong presence in her son?s life. She breaks from prevalent expectations saying:

You would have us encourage our sons to prove all things by their own experience, while our daughters must not even profit by the experience of others. Now I would have both so to benefit by the experience of others, and the precepts of a higher authority, that they should know beforehand to refuse evil and choose the good, and require no experimental proofs to teach them the evil of transgression. (Bront? 31)

According to Helen’s declaration, Bront? rejects the idea that such freedom afforded young men should be fully experienced only to later be reigned in through marriage. She also rejects the opposite extreme of sheltering young girls to the point where they have no self-actuated sense of wisdom and virtue, ill preparing them for independence and strength in difficult times. Scholar Elizabeth Gruner, in her essay ?Plotting the Mother: Caroline Norton, Helen Huntingdon and Isabel Vane,? says of the same passage quoted above:

Helen?s argument here neatly defends the novel, as teaching by others? experience, and her own maternal practice, while simultaneously undercutting any conception of an essential gender identity. Masculinity and Femininity are taught in this novel and can be played, revised, changed?as Gilbert himself learns. (Gruner 312)

A compromise must be met. The possibility exists, for which Helen is an example, where each gender benefits from preparedness to function in all aspects of society rather than to perform supplementary roles from separate spheres of a distinct division.

As Rose requires constant reminders to conform to her feminine identity, Gilbert also requires more than one lesson in his education to break free from engrained gender perspective, demonstrating how deeply entrenched the importance of gender identity is to the commonwealth. The town gossip darkens Helen?s true virtue because, as a wife who left her husband regardless of his abuse, she no longer fits within the ideal of ?angel in the house.? Here the machine manipulates Gilbert once more. Performing his gender duty, he avoids Helen, punishing her for doing her gender wrong (Butler 2500). Silence aggrieves the lovers, and Gilbert finds himself ?deceived, duped, hopeless, my afflictions trampled on, my angel not an angel, and my friend a fiend incarnate? (Bront? 102). Not until Helen offers her journal, appointing a witness for her story, does Gilbert escape his torment. While he does loosen his grip on the feminine definition, the reader is left to wonder if this change is binding. Scholar Russell Poole, in his article ?Cultural Reformation and Cultural Reproduction in Anne Bront?’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,? argues:

Helen?s diary is often identified as the means of instruction ? but we should not exaggerate its effect ? A few of [Gilbert?s] comments as a narrator suggest that a mitigation of his more aggressive traits has occurred subsequent to marriage rather than before it and certainly not as a precondition of it. (Poole 863)

Gilbert is like a child under the instruction of Helen, one in constant need of a reminder not to fall into old habits, learning who Helen is as a person, not as a misunderstood cog in the gender hierarchy. Regardless of Gilbert?s retention level, more importantly demonstrated is the fact that silence must be broken by women and their stories acknowledged by men before change can occur.

Bront? appears to fall short under the contemporary lens of feminism when Helen?s relationship flourishes with Gilbert and their wedding merely reinserts her into the same system from which she fled. Her property becomes Gilbert?s; it is he who must grant permission for Helen?s aunt to stay in the home that was once hers; and Arthur ?he was my own Helen?s son, and therefore mine? (Bront? 469). Gilbert makes a statement of claim on both mother and son, as if they are property to be owned. This reads as if Bront? could envision no practical solution for the plight of women. Although she is not able to write Helen out of society?s grasp, all is not lost. Rather than becoming an example by which women may redeem their power, Helen, more realistically for Bront??s time becomes the subject for discourse among Bront??s readership. Scholar Carol Senf, in her essay ?The Tenant of Wildfell Hall: Narrative Silences and Questions of Gender,? explores the value in Bront??s delineated story telling technique, one by which Helen?s tale is both divulged edited through Gilbert:

Like the unique narrative structure, the wife?s story framed by that of her husband, this emphasis on domestic life?especially on the relationships of men and women during courtship and marriage?encourages the reader to focus on questions of gender, especially to see the way that nineteenth-century notions of marriage consigned women to silence. (Senf 450)

As Helen?s full story unfolds, Gilbert and the audience of the novel learn of the horrors that can exist when expectations of women remain unchallenged. Beyond that initial lesson, a more subtle lesson is also divulged. Helen?s experience of oppression and abuse, that which had been locked within the confines of her journal until shared with Gilbert, becomes the property of Gilbert once they marry. Personal expression is no longer her own. Bront?, may not have had the vision to free Helen from the stranglehold of mastership without denying her love, yet she offers this subjection up to all of society to reform as a whole.

These social values and customs of the early nineteenth century are of importance to study because remains of those gender imbalances are still present in society today. To understand where gender inequality fails and reproduces oppression of women can help to pinpoint ways in which it can be remedied. Historic trends provide commentary through literature, allowing for study of the causes and effects within this division. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, in particular, provides a most valuable social commentary as it is the first novel of its kind to reveal the harsh reality of those women who suffered the worst of oppression of the time. Without discussion of the process by which women perpetuate their oppression, the importance of the challenge posed by Bront? is unable to be fully appreciated for the impact it has had in liberating the minds of women and imparting change upon a nation.

Works Cited:

Althusser, Louis. ?Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses.? The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent Leitch. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2001. 1476-1508.

Berry, Laura C. ?Acts of Custody and Incarceration in Wuthering Heights and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.? NOVEL: A Forum on Fiction 30.1. (1996): 32-55. JSTOR. 4 April 2007

Bront?, Anne. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. New York: Oxford University Press. 1992

Butler, Judith. ?Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity.? The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent Leitch. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2001. 2488-2501.

Gruner, Elisabeth Rose. ?Plotting the Mother: Caroline Norton, Helen Huntingdon, and Isabel Vane.? Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature. 16. 2. (1997): 303-325. JSTOR. 4 April 2007

Poole, Russell. ?Cultural Reformation and Cultural Reproduction in Anne Bront?’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.? Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900. 33.4 (1993): 859-873. JSTOR. 28 March 2007

Senf, Carol A. ?The Tenant of Wildfell Hall: Narrative Silences and Questions of Gender? College English. 52.4 (1990): 446-456. JSTOR. 28 March 2007

A Research Proposal:

In Anne Bront?’s novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, the character of Helen Graham challenges the inequality of gender in society. This inequality, at worst, fosters abuse and the silent oppression of women while, at the very least, it reproduces the same oppressive social system from generation to generation. Helen?s debate at the Markham house addresses this societal reproduction. The role of the mother in the raising of a child is dependant upon the gender of the child. For boys, learning from experience is most valued. For girls, virtue is attained through the sheltering of their innocence. Helen believes in moderation for either gender, particularly since experience has taught her well and made her no less virtuous. As Helen?s full story unfolds, Gilbert Markham and the audience of the novel are educated about the horrors that can exist if societal expectations of women remain unchallenged. Because Helen remains moral regardless of the experiences she faces and is rewarded with love and happiness in the end, Bront? demonstrates that to break from those aspects of tradition that foster vice, abuse and inequality can and must be a success.

The social values and customs of the early 19th Century are of importance to study because remains of those gender imbalances are still present in society today. To understand where gender inequality fails and reproduces oppression for women can help to pinpoint ways in which it can be remedied. Historic trends provide commentary through literature, allowing for study of causes and effects of this division. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall provides such a social commentary as it is the first novel of its kind to reveal the harsh reality of those women who suffered the worst of oppression at the time.

Materials regarding this line of inquiry are present in JSTOR. A cursory search provided three pertinent points of reference and more surely exist. The first is ?Cultural Reformation and Cultural Reproduction in Anne Bront?’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall? by Russell Poole, the second is ?Feminism and the Public Sphere in Anne Bront?’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall? by Rachel K. Carnell, and third is ?The Tenant of Wildfell Hall: Narrative Silences and Questions of Gender? by Carol A. Senf. As for the application of theory, The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism provides a wealth of information.

Theoretical application can move in several directions. Feminism is an obvious lens through which the novel can be viewed. Gayle Rubin speaks of women as a social gifts for societal connection. For the women in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, consideration of societal connections is of high important as mothers are continually concerned with their daughters? acceptance of socially respectable gentlemen. To move just outside the feminist realm, Franz Fanon speaks of being defined in relation to ?other.? Although this novel does not deal with racism, it does deal in the oppression of women as they are defined by men. Women, like Fanon?s description of black men, are imprisoned within the nature of their bodies by social structures outside their own being. Additionally, Althusser is applicable. As a Marxist, he speaks of repressive and ideological state apparatuses such as religion, school, family, laws, and political systems which have a cyclical effect on the reproduction of society. These apparatuses reproduce gender roles and class distinctions in addition to the reproduction of labor Althusser discusses. Because Helen moves, as a woman, beyond the limitation of class distinction when she marries Gilbert, she contradicts those apparatuses doubly.

Margaret Oliphant, in her novel Miss Marjoribanks, uses the seasons and external spaces to indicate the status of Lucilla Marjoribanks’ social influence. At the age of nineteen, Lucilla enters Carlingford and crafts it into the social sphere of her desire. Her own thriving garden, in what appears to be summer by its established lawn and shrubs, represents her full sense of social influence over her newly formed society. The initial wane of her influence is suggested through the imagery of Mrs. Mortimer’s garden as fall approaches. Lucilla’s complete social dormancy is represented by the encroachment of winter as she mourns her father?s death. When she is once again feeling ambitious, summer has returned and she is ready to nurture the entire village at Marchbanks into new growth. While these seasonal settings are not representative of a chronological year, they are strategically placed to represent the seasons of Lucilla’s life as she experiences it.

Lucilla?s initial abilities as Carlingford?s social leader are evident in Oliphant?s garden imagery early in the novel:

By this time the garden was full of pretty figures and pleasant voices, and under the lime tree there was a glimmer of yellow light from the lamps, and on the other side the moon was coming up steadily like a ball of silver over the dark outlines of Carlingford; and even the two voices which swelled forth up-stairs in the fullest accord, betraying nothing personal sentiments of their owners, were not more agreeable to hear than the rustle and murmur of sound which rose all over Dr. Marjoribanks? lawn and pretty shrubbery. (134)

This seamless integration of society and nature illustrate Lucilla?s ?natural ability? to mold the constructs of her social sphere. Lucilla?s planned concentration of light under the lime tree is significant because the lime tree is traditionally known to possess protective power against evil and catastrophe. Symbolically, Lucilla uses this to thwart the threat posed by Cavendish as he diverts his attention from Lucilla to Barbara. Lucilla?s name itself means light and her far reaching impact is represented by the moon rising over the dark outlines and people of Carlingford. Her voice too is likened to the murmur of a breeze over the lawn and shrubs, blending with Barbara?s in a sweet melody that speaks of her control over her passions. She is seen mingling with all including Barbara, a perceived enemy, without faltering. Each of these garden details illustrates how Lucilla is at the peak of influential power at the beginning of the novel.

Approaching the time of fall, when the harvest is nearly ripe, the garden Lucilla creates for Mrs. Mortimer’s school yard appears withered and broken much like Lucilla?s image of herself:

Miss Marjoribanks could not help observing that the branches of the pear-tree, which was that the garden contained in the shape of fruit, had come loose from the wall, and were swaying about greatly to the damage of the half grown pears ? it is astonishing how many little things go wrong when the man or woman with a hundred eyes is absent for a few days from the helm of affairs ? the espalier had got detached, some of the verbenas were dead in the borders, and the half of the sticks that propped up the dahlias had fallen, leaving the plants in miserable confusion. (203)

In this passage Oliphant suggests the wane of Lucilla’s influence. This garden is significant because Lucilla creates it in attempt to both manage and establishing Mrs. Mortimer in Carlingford. Leaving the garden to the attention of anybody but herself, a woman with a hundred eyes, has had a disintegrating effect. This line reveals that only Lucilla can keep an eye in every direction but she has been absent from this space. The pear-tree is particularly telling because it traditionally represents lust and desire which, like Lucilla?s love interest, is damaged and bruised. The pears are merely half formed, meaning that Lucilla?s lust for the Archdeacon is not fully realized when he abandons her company to speak with Mrs. Mortimer. Lucilla?s immediate thought in response is to perform the job of garden maintenance, tying up the pears and dismantling the confusion of the plants. With this she seeks to find the secret connection behind Mrs. Mortimer and the Archdeacon. Essentially, when forces beyond the reach of Lucilla?s influence take their toll, she might temporarily lose control, yet she does eventually maintain it.

The encroachment of the snow on the night of her father’s death suggests Lucilla?s pending dormancy:

Meantime, the snow fell heavily outside, and wrapped everything in a soft and secret whiteness. And amid the whiteness and darkness, the lamp burned steadily outside at the garden-gate ? that night the snow cushioned the wire outside, and even made white cornices and columns about the steady lamp, and the Doctor slept within. (396)

This illustrates how the beginning of Lucilla?s dormant and mourning state affects not only her, but the town as well. The snow falling around the house also falls around the whole of Carlingford. Thursday evenings are about to be suspended The Doctor?s bell is silenced as the snow cushions the wire, telling that he is dead. At the same time, the light burning at the garden-gate is slowly dimmed by stacking flakes, just as darkening circumstances are about to stack up against Lucilla. Still, as the light in the lantern never goes out, Lucilla continues to illuminate her space from within the house.

When Lucilla reaches her new peak of ambition, fueled by her marriage to Tom, summer has returned once more.

? the sight of the village at Marchbank was sweet to her eyes ? It occupied a great deal more than the gardens did ? Lucilla?s eye went out over the moral wilderness with the practical glance of a statesman, and at the same time, the sanguine enthusiasm of a philanthropist. She saw of what it was capable, and already, in imagination, the desert blossomed like a rose before he beneficent steps, and the sweet sense of well doing rose in her breast. (494)

While Tom takes on the actual gardens of Marchbank, Lucilla envisions the influence of her illumination on all of Marchbank village. In the moral wilderness, she sees an untamed society barren of social skills, waiting to be formed by her masterful hand. She sees the desert blossom like a rose at her feet, just as she believes the less fortunate will gratefully bloom before her with her assistance. As she did at Carlingford ten years prior, she can imagine the possibilities for the people here and she has every intention of bringing their new society to fruition. This challenge requires more skill than she exerted in Carlingford because the social landscape has never been primed as it was there. Through this hopeful vision, we are led to believe that if Lucilla can imagine it, she can achieve it. Summer will bloom under her authority.

Oliphant?s use of seasons and space indicates more than Lucilla Marjoribanks’ social influence. In each instance, it becomes obvious that Lucilla, regardless of her situation, is never fully defeated. Cavendish?s betrayal has little impact as her ability to rise above is represented with thriving garden-scapes. Mrs. Mortimer?s garden reveals a stumbling block and nothing more, for when the Archdeacon abandons her for Mrs. Mortimer, Lucilla simply talks of maintaining her power and dismantling the confusion. In the face of her father?s death, Lucilla?s light is dim and dormant under the snow but it never goes out. In the end, she is rejuvenated and ready for an entirely new project beyond her accomplishments in Carlingford. Her constant triumph reveals that she will likely succeed as she tends to her goals at Marchbank.

Works Cited

Oliphant, Margaret. Miss Marjoribanks. New York: Penguin Books, 1988.

Questions up for debate:

1.) Which candidate do you (not the people of Carlingford) think is better for Parliament, Mr. Ashburton or Mr. Cavendish? Why?
- Dr. Marjoribanks wrestles with his opinion (353 bottom)
- Colonel Chiley’s opinion (364 middle)
- Lucilla’s opinion of Mr. A in social circles (365 middle)
- Summary of both candidates (371 all)
- Mr. Centrum’s conversation with Cavendish (384 bottom-385 top-middle)

2.) Did Dr. Marjoribanks suspect he was going to die so soon, or was he simply reminded of the fact that the end eventually comes via Mrs. Chiley’s health and his worry for Lucilla?
- Dr. M and Lucilla discuss Mrs. Chiley’s health (391 top)
- Dr. M suggests Lucilla marries (392 middle to bottom)
- Mention of change/”next morning” reference (393 top)
- Lucilla talks with lawyer John Brown (408 bottom – 409 top)

3.) Although they can’t legally vote, do the women have influence over the outcome of the election? If yes, how? If no, why not?
- Lucilla: Mr. Ashburton’s campaign manager (341 middle)
- Does a “woman’s touch” matter? (342 middle, 355 middle)
- Spin Doctor (362 middle, 363 top, 369 top, 372 bottom, )
- Social talent a plus (367 top)
- The last word on politics (394 middle)

4.) Will Lucilla live a “single woman’s life” successfully at her father’s house? What details support your theory?
- Aunt Jemima?s practicality (413 bottom half)
- Public opinion (417 top half)
- The first declaration (not solely) of independence (420 middle)
- Consider the House (420 bottom)
- Curbing Nancy (424 bottom)

In Act I of “The Tempest,” William Shakespeare paints Prospero as a character who possesses a great deal of power, quite analogous to that of the King of England. Attributing this power to his education in ?liberal arts,? Prospero?s enchanting abilities appear to stem from his study of books, the donning of a magical cloak, and by carrying a magical staff, much as the King?s crown and vestiges, although not powerful themselves, lend to the visual definition of his authority. While each of these items do supply Prospero with the ability to cast spells, it is his ?art? of conversation that affords him the most power.

As Paul Brown remarks in ??This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?: The Tempest and the Discourse of Colonialism,? Prospero calls to his various listeners ?and invites them to recognize themselves as subjects of his discourse, as beneficiaries of his civil largess.? (Brown 218) The technique with which Prospero bestows his ?civil largess? upon his daughter, Miranda, and his servant, Ariel, varies in degree of applied patience, yet it conclusively achieves the desired effect as each bend to his will. While Caliban, Prospero?s slave, offers the vilest resistance, Prospero demands compliance by employing the use of painful threats, only occasionally requiring additional reinforcement through action. Prospero?s command of language, ultimately his most useful tool, influences and manipulates the thoughts, ideas and behaviors of all the play?s participants, including those of the audience.

Miranda?s character is akin to the citizens of England, each governed by the power and guidance of their rulers. Through suggestive conversation, Prospero educates Miranda on the subject of their history, molding her perspective to ready her for a future orchestration of events. As he begins the tale, Prospero asks Miranda to, ??pluck my magic garment from me. So, [laying down his magic cloak and staff] Lie there my art.? (Shakespeare 14, 24) Here Prospero engages in conversation exclusively, making a point to shed all other forms of power. With this simple action, Shakespeare demonstrates the innate power of Prospero?s persuasion and how it is used to educate and thus govern Miranda with the provision of a singular perspective. This directly reflects England?s own normative view as colonizer, enforcing the belief that English culture is superior both within and beyond the country?s borders.

Prospero takes pride in his ability to educate. He speaks passionately of this role in regard to Miranda, ?Here have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit than other princess? can, that have more time for vainer hours and tutors not so careful.? (Shakespeare 19, 171) Prospero has been grooming Miranda to be obedient all her life, and she, a naive student, exclaims, ?Heavens thank you for ?t!? (Shakespeare 20, 175) In his technique of reinforcing his daughter?s loyalty and attention by repeatedly asking, ?Dost thou attend me?? (Shakespeare 16, 78) requires Miranda to engage in the dialogue and actively confirm, ?Your tale, sir, would cure deafness,? (Shakespeare 17, 107) In this way, Miranda reflects the desired perspective as it is presented to her, satisfying Prospero?s need for loyalty and support in his plot to resume his dukedom. As Brown explains, ?A major strategy of this scheme is to engineer another courtship between Miranda and the son of his enemy ? his daughter having been duly educated for such a role.? (Brown 219) In grooming Miranda to marry Ferdinand, Prospero intends to place her like a pawn among royalty, ensuring his ties to political authority.

In Ariel, Prospero?s servant, Shakespeare depicts an English colonizer, one sympathetic toward the American Indians. Ariel proves useful in forging a foundation for Prospero?s new world order but must be commanded to continue in the face of unpleasant tasks, particularly those he believes will cause harm. Applying the approach used with Miranda, Prospero begins to question ?Dost thou forget from what torment I did free thee?? (Shakespeare 22, 250) Ariel challenges that he has not. With this exchange Prospero begins a detailed call and response, ?Hast thou forgot the foul witch Sycorax? Thou hast. Where was she born?? (Shakespeare 23, 261) Recounting this story of how Prospero freed Ariel from the witch?s curse actively recalls the details of Arial?s torment and debt to Prospero for release. Ironically, this freedom from the pine has merely released him into a new form of bondage. (Brown, 220) According to Brown, ?This operation of constant reminding acts as ?symbolic violence.? What is really at issue is the underlining of a power relation.? (Brown 220) Illustrating a bending will, Ariel replies, ?Pardon, master. I will be correspondent to command and do my spriting gently.? (Shakespeare 24) As Ariel submits, Prospero is able to expand his power to that of the spritely realm with Ariel to do his bidding.

Caliban, having occupied the island long before Prospero, represents the idea of ?savage? as it exists within the colonization of Ireland and America. Prospero tries in vain to educate Caliban, to civilize him in the ways in which Prospero is accustomed. Miranda too, as an extension of Prospero, teaches Caliban the language common to her and her father. In regard to this education, Caliban is not grateful for their ?gift,? but rather feels enslaved by it. ?You taught me language and my profit on ?t is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!? (Shakespeare 27, 367) Before the arrival of Prospero and Miranda, Caliban understands his thoughts perfectly well, explaining that they didn?t give him knowledge, but only the means to express what he already knows in a way they understand. He too can understand their demands as they bark orders at him. Brown believes Caliban ?recognizes himself as a linguistic subject of the master language. Caliban?s refusal marks him as obdurate yet he must voice this in a curse in the language of civility … Whatever Caliban does with this gift announces his capture by it.? (Brown 220) In his unwillingness to easily submit, Caliban poses a real challenge for Prospero. While still embracing his mastery over communication, Prospero must change his approach. Keeping the upper hand, he incorporates the use of threats backed by real action, making Caliban submit out of fear.

At the play?s end, as so ordered by Shakespeare, the shipwrecked aristocrats suffer to Prospero?s content, extracting sufficient remorse from their maddened state with no lasting harm dealt by his hand. His daughter, too, is arranged neatly in the arms of King Alonzo?s son, assuring her royal future and his. Ariel is freed for a job well done, and even the stubborn Caliban all too easily sees the light after falling further from grace, accepting Prospero as a more desirable master than Stephano. Each fragment is neatly tied up with one exception. In what way does Shakespeare deal with Prospero?

By educating the island inhabitants as he sees fit, Prospero gets an unforeseen education of his own. During the marriage of Miranda and Ferdinand, Prospero is startled with the realization of his aloneness without her. Fiedler with the idea that Shakespeare ?appears more and more to divest himself of the very power he has so relentlessly sought. … even as Prospero?s game plan succeeds he himself is played out, left without a move as power over his daughter slips away.? (Brown 226) Prospero speaks of this dissolve of power, as well as the erasure of existence when he says, ?We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded in sleep.? (Shakespeare 70, 156) Caliban?s attempt on Prospero?s life leads Prospero to look more closely at his inability to civilize the savage. He raves, ?A Devil, born a Devil, on whose nature nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost!? (Shakespeare 71, 188) And lastly, in an effort of revenge on his brother, Prospero learns compassion, characterized by his epiphany that ?The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.? (Shakespeare 75, 28) Brown believes, ?At the ?close? of the play Prospero is in danger of becoming the other to the narrative declaration of his own project, which is precisely the ambivalent position Caliban occupies.? (Brown 228) and is unsatisfied with how Shakespeare handles Prospero?s abandonment of magical external power with no ?triumph for colonialism? (Brown 228). With this I disagree.

At the time Shakespeare writes “The Tempest,” no societal answers existed in response to the play?s questions. Shakespeare appears to synthesize the culmination of Prospero?s lessons to demonstrate the hope for England of one day being wiser, more accepting of others, and willing to forfeit control where it already exists rather than to attempt the civilization of the world. As the rest of Prospero?s powers fade, his reign over language is not lost. ?Now my charms are all o?erthrown, and what strength I have ?s mine own.? (Shakespeare 86, 1) The power of persuasion has always been an innate part of his being only to fade when Prospero himself expires. He uses his remaining capacity for language to appeal to the audience. He seeks their applause and thus forgiveness for his character flaws. This may also be a plea from Shakespeare himself to forgive weak plot point. The questions raised are left to us, the audience to ponder and answer for ourselves.

Works Cited:

Shakespeare, William, et al. “The Tempest” Ed. Gerald Graff and James Phelan. William Shakespeare, The Tempest; A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 10-87

Brown, Paul. ?This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?; The Tempest as the Discourse of Colonialism? William Shakespeare, “The Tempest;” A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 205-229

A Summary of Paul Brown’s “‘This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine’: The Tempest and the Discourse of Colonialism”

In his essay, Paul Brown explains that Shakespeare?s “The Tempest” reaches beyond mere contemplation of colonialism and more toward ?intervention in an ambivalent and even contradictory discourse.? (205) Brown feels that Shakespeare attempts, in his narrative, to suitably redefine the power relations between classes, gender and cultures, but fails to accomplish this task.

Three connections within complex colonial discourse, according to Brown, are ?class discourse (masterlessness), a race discourse (savagism) and a politically and courtly sexual discourse? (209) as illustrated by the desire of John Rolf, a Virginia planter, for Pocahontas, the daughter of Powhatan, chief-of-chiefs. Using Rolf?s letter asking for the Governor?s blessing over their marriage, Brown shows Rolf?s belief that the power of British civility can transform the ?other? or American Indian, even if sexual desire may threaten to undermine that mastery. (207) This, in turn, is compared with Prospero?s narrative in which his ruling power is determined by his control over his subjects? sexuality, particularly Miranda?s and Caliban?s. Brown argues that the colonizer seeks to control, repress and exploit the ?other? even as the ?other? has beneficial offerings that may erode that civil order.

Moving beyond the American example, Brown examines British counterculture and Irish ?others? to illustrate the colossal range of contemporary colonialist discourse. He discusses the perceived threat within England of anti-social man, the masterless who require ?surveillance, classification, expulsion and punishment? (210) as Brown believes is embodied in “The Tempest” by Stephano and Trunculo. Their threat of counter-order serves to unify rulers in their authority, channeling a positive civil service. (211) Brown next points out evidence of this within the context of Ireland. It was in need of reordering and of ?a colony where the savage other needed to be civilized conquered and dispossessed.? (214) Masterless Irish were especially targeted, and jesters like Trinculo were exemplary of that lot. (210) To further tie Ireland to “The Tempest,” Brown offers the idea that the uninhabited island (of civility) offered not only the opportunity for the expansion of civility, but the undoing of it as well, freedom being a temptation. (216)

Brown says the narrative of the play ?is always related to questions of power.? (218) The tempestuous storm was produced by Shakespeare to show Prospero?s mastery over the island. He demonstrates his control over his listeners as he narrates, establishing himself as father and educator of Miranda, rescuer of Ariel, colonizer of Caliban, and corrector of errant aristocrats. Prospero?s function is to divide the characters along gender lines as with the malleable Miranda and irreformable Caliban, and along class lines such as in the usurping aristocrats versus unmastered plebians, conjuring colonial discourse. (221)

This binarism is accompanied by the aesthetic ordering of power through ?narrative to maintain social control.? (223) ?Euphemistic? use of romantic rhetoric as well as gifts of freedom and education underline the non-exploitive representation of power as when Caliban is taught to speak Prospero?s language. (223) This language is seen by Caliban as linguistic capture and restraint, not a gift. (220) Alternately, to ?denigrate the masterless? (225), as with Trinculo and Stephano, Caliban is placed in a more positive light. His eloquence is revealed when describing the island and how its music causes him to dream. This dream, according to Brown, is the apothesis of colonial discourse, a wish for release, a desire for utopian powerlessness. (225)

Prospero too desires to ?divest himself of the very power he has so relentlessly sought? (226), as is the plausible threat of freedom to the civilized. After losing his power over his daughter, the play ends not with his resumption of public duty but his retirement. Brown asks, ?Is this final distancing from the narrative an unraveling of Prospero?s project?? (227) The disruption of the marriage masque by Caliban?s plot leads to Prospero?s declaration that all representation is illusory, yet he ?goes on to meet the threat and triumphs, and thus completes his narrative.? (227) Brown is troubled by the ?ambivalence? here between narrative declaration and dramatic struggle. ?The threat must be present to validate colonial discourse; yet if present it cannot but impel the narrative to further action. The process is interminable. And yet the play has to end.? (228) It is for this reason, Brown believes, that “The Tempest” declares no triumph for colonialism but simply offers up it?s characteristic operations.

ASSESSMENT AND RATIONALE

Paul Brown aligns himself with the post-colonial school of criticism. This is demonstrated by his use of intertextuality and his goal to show the oppression of colonized peoples. He talks not only of language as a binding factor in colonization as given to Caliban by Prospero and Miranda, but he also examines the euphemistic manipulation of language by Prospero to establish and maintain dominance. In exploration of the colonized people?s reaction, Brown studies Caliban and in what ways he speaks out against his plight. In the end, he looks for ways to change the system of colonization and finds ambivalent answers in Shakespeare?s interpretation of order.

I am interested in this essay because it supports my initial interpretation of Prospero?s role in “The Tempest.” Paul Brown?s exploration of Prospero?s art of conversation and the power he holds over his fellow characters resonates with my assessment of that power. In addition, I have learned much from Brown?s essay in the context of colonization. This information has influenced me to push beyond my limited interpretation based on New Criticism and complicate it within the context of events occurring at the time the play was written. For me, this legitimizes and expands the themes present in my original assessment of Prospero.

Work Cited:

Brown,?Paul. ?This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?; The Tempest as the Discourse of Colonialism? William Shakespeare, “The Tempest;” A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 205-229

I took my professor’s suggestion, sitting for several hours over the weekend with my copy of “The Tempest” and a pencil. I started back at Act 1, picking most of the descriptive notes from the bottom of the page and transferring them into the text. Reading through once more, with those in place, I made notes about the plot in the margins. As I made my way through Act III, it was obvious that I had learned much along the way. Still, I continued to transfer many of the notes, even if I didn?t think I needed them, because this made the double entendres far more apparent and enjoyable.

The difference between ?getting the gist? and picking up the humorous subtleties brought a whole new dimension to life. The whole interaction about chickens and foul was lost on me the first time through. When seeing a performance, the actors? physical cues and tone help identify Shakespeare?s play on language and the running jokes referenced throughout. In reading, I truly miss the cues. It was good to discover that the more effort I put in, the more I was rewarded with enjoyment. All this talk about Shakespeare being such a drag had me doubting how much I?d like him.

Beyond addressing the language, I did have some questions about what happened between some of the characters. In Act III, scene I, it seemed rather forward of Miranda to ask Ferdinand to marry her. Am I judging from a perspective outside the social norm for the day?

In Scene III, Caliban seems to finally speak without venom when he describes the island and his relationship to it. He talks of the noises that lull him and from what he finds comfort. Why does Shakespeare suddenly give us this new glimpse of the character in alight we?ve never seen and yet in the midst of convincing Stephano to kill Prospero?

Also, is Prospero really as magical as he boasts himself to be? It seems he has a genius mind for orchestrating events, but beyond lulling his daughter to sleep, becoming invisible, and freeing Ariel from the tree, he seems to rely much more on Ariel?s handiwork than his own.

In reading Act I of Shakespeare?s “The Tempest,” Prospero?s character is complex, making him an interesting element to focus on. He orchestrates many of the Act?s events, exhibiting many facets, from deriving great pleasure from his daughter?s smile to how demanding he can be on those who serve him.

While Prospero loses his rightful ruling position over Milan at the hand of his brother and is exiled to an island with his daughter, Miranda, he still seems to hold power, both influential and magical. By way of fate, a ship carries his brother and others near to the island and, through the shear will of Prospero, it is tossed about the sea, caught in a Tempest as reparation for the pains he has suffered. This retribution appears to be warranted, leaving me, the reader, glad for Prospero?s chance to demonstrate to his brother the ways he has suffered. But the question remains, how far will Prospero go? When a distraught Miranda asks the same question and it is revealed that none aboard the ship are physically harmed, Prospero appears to be a fair and just soul.

By enslaving the island?s only native inhabitant, Caliban, the animal-like son of a witch, as well as Ariel, an ethereal sprite he released from the holdings of a curse, Prospero?s duality is revealed. He may be too kind hearted to fully destroy the ship?s men, but he has certainly bound others to serve him with an unrelenting exhibition of power. Where does this fit within the ideals of a man who desires to serve his people and who desires to serve his daughter?s best interests? Perhaps he truly believes he helped Caliban by teaching him to communicate, but he is unwilling to see how he might be usurping Caliban?s rightful place as King of the island. He certainly freed Ariel from the pine tree but, as Ariel fulfills each of Prospero?s requests to repay this debt, he finds yet another request awaiting him.

What do these inconsistencies say about Prospero?s character as a whole? Is he really at such odds with himself, or does the text later reveal what ties these traits together? Perhaps these servants are used to show dedication from an earthly as well as spiritual world as each continues to server Prospero regardless of his brother?s refusal to do so. Even the old wise man Gonzales seems eager to help him by sending him to the island with provisions.

Stevie Verloc: The Anarchist with a Complete Morality in Joseph Conrad’s The Secret Agent

Morality is generally understood to be a code of conduct put forth by society, but in Joseph Conrad?s novel, The Secret Agent, two conflicting societies have different interpretations of what that means. While government agencies strive to maintain law, order and preserve their power, the anarchists? mission is to upset governmental order by way of chaos, moving mankind toward enlightenment and individual freedom. The self-proclaimed anarchists in Conrad?s novel may collectively embody aspects of that ideal, yet each of them lacks some key element, whether it be identification with or analyzing the plight of the common man, or the ability to act out against convention. Surprisingly, it is the incompetent and unlikely Stevie who fully realizes these inherent anarchic virtues. It is he who has, as the narrator states, a ?complete morality? (126).

Conrad uses image and appearance as an important component to define the ironic shortcomings of his anarchist characters. Mr. Vladimir conveys this significance of appearance to the corpulent Mr. Verloc when he scolds, ?You haven?t even got the physique of your profession. You ? a member of a starving proletariat ? never!? (16). To live like the proletariat is to understand the plight of the common man. Mr. Verloc?s obesity symbolizes his ties to the convention of the lazy bourgeoisie and also to his lack of productivity, in particular his inability to provoke change. Michaelis can be accused of the same as he comes ?out of a highly hygienic prison round like a tub? (31) and is sent to Marienbad by a wealthy woman for three seasons (31). Michaelis enjoys the conventions of the bourgeoisie. This is evident by way of his bulk, the mention of his wealthy, dietary benefactor and his relationship with the Assistant Commissioner. Karl Yundt, being frail and toothless, is portrayed as a man whose bark is worse than his bite. ?His enunciation would have been almost totally unintelligible to a stranger? (32). The only people who understand what he?s saying are those who already know his point, rendering him ineffectual to change the minds of those who do not. In the grand scheme of the novel, not one of these images exemplifies the attributes of a true anarchist.

Conversely, Stevie?s appearance projects anarchy in every aspect. He is described as ?delicate, and in a frail way, good-looking too, except for the vacant droop of his lower lip? (7). This boy is thin, fragile and, unlike Mr. Verloc or Michaelis, more representative of the proletariat. His lower lip symbolizes his intense compassion. It droops even further when he witnesses the unjust treatment of any living being. When frustrated with ?the poor cabman beating the poor horse in the name of, as it were, of his poor kids at home? (126), ?a magnanimous indignation swelled his frail chest to bursting? (124). This image of Stevie?s chest about to burst is not unlike that of a bomb about to explode. Stevie is the bomb, a true instrument of change. While Stevie?s physical expression is telling of his character, the images he creates on paper also illustrate his pure anarchist qualities. If one circle represents the ideal, Stevie?s drawings of consecutive circles become directly representative of chaos beyond what any anarchist propaganda can achieve. It is obvious that Stevie is unable to discuss the principles of anarchy as do the others in their meetings, but he speaks volumes with his actions and reactions.

Anarchists believe that property and ownership is an oppressive crime of the bourgeoisie. Still, throughout the novel, the anarchists remain tied to the convention of money because this very system they fight against is one that they must also function within. Mr. Verloc is rattled to his core at the threat of Mr. Vladimir cutting off his paycheck, reacting ?with all the force of his will against that sensation of faintness running down one?s legs? (20). Ossipon, while considering the demise of his publication, concerns himself with where his next paycheck will come from. Surprisingly, the Professor, one of the most credible anarchists in his willingness to detonate himself for change, also shows this vulnerability to convention. Once Mr. Verloc is dead and Comrade Ossipon asks the Professor what he should do next, the Professor replies, ?Fasten yourself upon the woman for all she?s worth? (59). Following this instruction to attain Winnie?s money, Ossipon reveals his desire for power, to govern Winnie in place of Mr. Verloc and to assume her possessions. Neither the Professor nor Ossipon has achieved their goal of living free. Instead, they are jockeying for ownership, money and power as much as those they fight against.

Dissimilarly, Stevie is not bound by the rules of ownership and money. Provided for by his family and free from financial burden, Stevie gives all he has to the poor. In the case of Mrs. Neale, a woman who does housework at the Verloc?s, she repeatedly presents to Stevie a story about her poor, infant children. This is done to manipulate Stevie?s emotions until he offers Mrs. Neale a shilling on their behalf. ?In the normal evolution of his sympathy Stevie had become angry on discovering that he had no shilling in his pocket. In his inability to relieve at once Mrs. Neale?s ?little ?uns? privations, he felt that someone should be made to suffer for it? (137). Stevie then strikes the table with his fist, angry over the plight of Mrs. Neale?s children. He is selfless in motive and unaware of the injustice preying upon him, only wishing to help those in need. In this situation, Stevie?s detachment from his own money combines with his explosive reaction toward the unjust oppression of the poor and his anger over the inability to initiate change.

Another shortcoming of the anarchists is the willingness to analyze what is happening directly in front of them. Neither Mr. Verloc nor Winnie likes to scratch below the surface of circumstance until Stevie becomes a catalyst for this behavior. Their marriage, in Mr. Verloc?s mind, is one based on Winnie?s love for him and his admiration of her. Oddly, even after Mr. Verloc sends Stevie off with the bomb and the boy is killed, he still believes he is ?loved for himself? (191). In truth, Winnie always acts the role of dutiful wife and would have continued that role had Stevie not been a part of the chaos that rattled her foundation. She merely tolerates Mr. Verloc until the moment she despises him for murdering her brother. Not until that moment does she finally admit to herself that this union is a marriage of convenience, simply a way to keep her mother and Stevie safely with her. She explains this to Comrade Ossipon, saying of Mr. Verloc, ?He seemed kind. He wanted me, anyhow. What was I to do with mother and that poor boy?? (202). Winnie suddenly realizes that she is no longer responsible for Stevie?s needs and is subsequently free from Mr. Verloc. Without the catalyst of Stevie?s death, Mr. Verloc and Winnie may have indefinitely gone on looking solely at the surface of things.

Stevie, by comparison, is an analyst. He looks at the world around him and is distraught by the injustice he sees. As early as age fourteen, on his first job, Stevie sets off fireworks in his office building and is fired. This is not a naughty prank. It is eventually discovered that this is a reaction to the other office boys ?working upon his feelings by tales of injustice and oppression til they had wrought his compassion to the pitch of frenzy? (7). This type of reaction resurfaces when Stevie sees the starved horse and poor cabbie as he walks Winnie across the street. Without the language to articulate his feelings, all he can explosively stammer is ?Poor! Poor!? and ?Shame!? (125). While his external expression is extremely simple, a great deal more is going on internally. ?Jostled, but obstinate, he would remain there, trying to express the view newly opened to his sympathies of the human and equine misery in close association? (125). Stevie sees injustice without shying away. He faces it directly on an emotional level and then explodes.

Stevie is not an anarchist of intellectual words like those anarchists who write and sell propaganda in the novel. For him, this is not an intellectual journey open to debate. Stevie?s anarchism stems from the core of his being and clearly shines through his actions, whether apparent in his physical appearance, his outbursts, or his art. In small, unplanned events, he reacts to the disorder of oppression in a way that, in itself, upsets the order of things. Stevie is chaos. It is this principle that makes him a true anarchist without self declaration. It is this everyday embodiment of anarchy that attracts Mr. Verloc, who draws upon Stevie as a resource to detonate his bomb. Although the effect was not as intended, Stevie, in his ?complete morality? ultimately becomes the instrument of change.