English Literature Essay Example for Free

English Literature Essay Any debate of the English novel through the Romantic era essentially begins and ends in inconsistency, particularly when one also thinks curricular, instructive and canonical matters as they are mirrored in undergraduate and graduate course assistance at colleges and universities. First, the main remarkably canonised era of mid-era, Jane Austen, is usually observed more as a modern eighteenth-century era than as a definitively Romantic one. Next, possibly the most productive of the era, Sir Walter Scott rarely appears in any but the most comprehensive or sequentially constrained reviews of the English novel. Third, the occurrence of Mary Shelleys permanently well-liked Frankenstein in the educational prospectus often replicates on one hand the longing to take in women more obviously in the standard, and on the other the desire amid numerous teacher/scholars to leave their subjects in Romantic poetry with an available work of writing style fiction whose resemblances with that poetry are equally clear and convincing. Ultimately, Gothic novels, whose flourish of fame peaked through the Romantic era, are normally demoted to the fringe of the fiction sight, their existence recognized by the fictional-significant equal of the addition at family vacation meals of the poor family members who have to eat in the back room. In brief, the Romantic novel has regularly appeared to be a non-body devoid evenly of noticeably thriving practitioners and of any definable keen readership, either two hundred years ago or nowadays. When Frances Burney in 1778, published her first novel, Evelina, her foreword believes a male voice, and, though it admits that eras are usually contempt, inquires that this novel should be read in view of Rousseau, Johnson, Marivaux, Fielding, Richardson and Smollett, a pantheon which unites knowledge expressiveness pitiable powers humour and hilarity (and, certainly, personifies these virtues within an completely masculine authority) (Burney, 1970). Merely 23 years afterwards in 1801, Maria Edgeworths alike foreword to her early novel Belinda results a civilizing sea-change. Similar to Burney, Edgeworth is apprehensive concerning maintaining the eminence of an era, calling the scripture but a moral Tale. Not like Burney, though, Edgeworth writes unmistakably as a woman, and permits her name to show on the title page. Like Burney, she commands up in her own hold up a pantheon of precursors, but as Burney refuges at the back of affectionate power, Edgeworths pantheon is comprised of â€Å"Dr Moore ,Madame de Crousaz, Mrs Inchbald, Miss Burney, and Mrs Inchbald. An innovative representation of female authorship and certainly authority has appeared: and the author who most assisted this new representation was Burney herself. The publication of Evelina and its two descendants, Cecilia (1782) and Camilla (1796), established Burneys status as an epoch whose effort was not only enjoyable but also, significantly, ethically sound. La Belle Assemblà ©e in 1806 admires her as equally a pragmatist and a moralist, presenting an accurate picture of life in a realistic form. These identical assertions are constantly heard in talks of Burney. The 13 year old Elizabeth Benger in The Female Geniad admires Burney for a novel art which [e]ngages curiosity, and affects the heart, and for humour, wit and satire, but most significantly, Throughout the whole, morality presides, / Fair purity, the pen of Burney guides (Benger: 51). Robert Bissets anti-Jacobin Douglas: or, the Highlander dedicates a complete chapter to an appraisal of Ann Radcliffe, Charlotte Smith and Burney. Burney suggested initially just for not being a democrat (Bisset: III, 304), but is afterwards more generously admired for deep insight into human nature (Bisset: III, 311), and most momentous lessons of the best ethics and morals, tending to make the reader wiser, stronger and better (Bisset: III, 312). Bisset ends that where Radcliffe was mainly renowned by liveliness of fancy and Smith by softness of feeling, Burneys unique characters are depth, strength, and completeness of perceptive (Bisset: III, 315). Eighteenth-century England was a mans world. Englishmen did not pretend otherwise, would it have not happened as such. They accepted their authority as result of the natural order. Men governed the nation, made and dispensed its laws, and controlled its purse strings. They wholeheartedly embraced as their national symbol the figure of John Bull, a lusty, blunt and gruff, beef-eating yeoman whose very name suggests the stereotypical ideal of male power. More than a sheer picture to be employed for polemical purposes on the international scene, this dominating national self-image revealed the values and principles that motivated the British nation. According to the historian Linda Colley: There was a sensein which the British envisioned themselves as a basically masculine society-pretend, up-front, logical, and realistic to the degree of becoming philistine bogged down in an everlasting opposition with an basically effeminate France delicate, rationally deceitful, overwhelmed with high style, fine cooking and manners, and so fanatical towards sex that boudoir politics was made to guide it. (Colley, 1992, p. 252) Such attitudes assured the marginalisation of women in public life. Exclusion, perhaps, might be a more suitable phrase. In the arts, excluding literature, women were virtually nonexistent; few names, indeed, have made their way into the histories of painting, sculpture, music, or architecture for the period. Even in literature their contributions were and lasted to be for a long time either denigrated or ignored. Until near the closing of the century, women writers drew scornful comments from male contemporaries. The writing misses of Gothic legends at the ending of the century remained targets for scathing comments that rated their work on a par with that of printers devils. The very character of a feminine author was the object of suspicion. All but ostracised from the arts, women were no more present in the judiciary, politics, science, industry, or business. They simply had no vacancy in the common world of eighteenth-century men whose very retreats from their laboursclubs, taverns, and coffeehouses-were sanctuaries free of the presence of the feminine gender. If ones self-image helps determine success in life, eighteenth-century women were clearly doomed to failure. Wherever they turned in their society, they were found to be shown as weak and defenceless creatures, occupied mainly with the most frivolous activities, and dependent, like pets or children, upon men for support and guidance. Their silliness called for gentle chiding; their extravagance demanded sterner reproaches; and their emotional excesses, particularly suggestive of sexual feelings, called forth the severest rebukes. Periodicals and conduct books especially present a clear and no doubt dependable view of the image of women, an image created by men but generally shared by both genders in the society. As early as Joseph Addison and Richard Steele Spectator, periodical writers portray the feminine gender as attractive but essentially weak-minded, victims of foolishness, fashion, and vanity, the perfect targets for the new consumerism that Englishmen saw as a danger to the national character. Lord Chesterfield would keep women from business affairs since he regarded them as children of a larger growth. Jonathan Swift dismissed the sex as mindless, while Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, with obvious frustration, plainly enunciates the general assessment of her sisterhood: Folly is reckoned our proper sphere. So it must have been. Even those who were friendly to the gender and concerned with their welfare thought that feminine gender was an inferior species in need of male protection, defence even, from male predators since they lacked the qualities to thrive in a masculine world. John Duntons Athenian Mercury, particularly appreciative of the talents of feminine writers, nevertheless in more worldly matters saw women in conventional social and religious terms. In the Connoisseur George Colman and Bonnell Thornton, writers concerned with championing women authors, repeatedly take the gender to task for behaviour best described as immature and childish. Ridiculing womens use of cosmetics, the Connoisseur focuses on feminine vanity, the dangers of their emotionalism, and their petty concerns for gambling and party-going. The effect of this paternalistic image might be observed in the work of, among the strongest and most daring women writers of the period, Eliza Haywood, whose Female Spectator proves no less patronizing toward women than the works of the male writers already cited. Indeed, it is difficult to distinguish between Haywoods treatment of her gender and the suggestion given in a conduct book, The Ladies Calling that admonished a woman to live in a submissive selflessness consonant with her congenital incapacities. Although written seventy years after the conduct book, the interests in Haywoods courtesy periodical do not vary basically from those of her male predecessor. Her topics are love and marriage, parent-child relationships, feminine education, moral and social decorum; her views, despite her reputation as a scandalous writer, prove as conventional as those in The Ladies Calling, and, indeed, differ little from those of the host of male courtesy writers who preceded her. If someone like Haywood could be influenced by the pervasive male view of women in the prints, the evidence suggests that she was not alone even among the strongest in her gender. Elizabeth Brophy has demonstrated how the conduct books shaped womens own view of themselves whether in terms of their natural abilities, their emotional and intellectual weaknesses, or the dangers of their being overeducated. Looking at womens writing about themselves and their gender, it is not simple to distinguish how much of the portrait plays up to male expectations, how much in various subtle ways attempts to undermine the masculine view, or how much represents an acceptance of male definitions of womanhood (Todd, 1989, 9-10). Even the many fine women novelists of the century, rediscovered by feminist critics and publishers, indicate the enormous pressures on them to conform personally and professionally to male and indeed feminine expectations of women and their subject matter. Whatever may be traced to genuine gender differences, social conventions, and marketplace demands, these women were constantly made aware of their gender and limitations on it (Rogers, 1977, 64-65, 78). For example, whatever her considerable abilities as a translator, Elizabeth Carter could be comically but nonetheless seriously praised by Samuel Johnson on her equally fine ability to make a pudding. For all her intellectual talents, Carter, and many others like her had to know that in the male-dominant world they had a limited and very well-defined sphere. Given this paternalistic view of womens characterwhose very virtues appear designed to serve mens needsthe sphere for feminine activity would have to be very restricted in its boundaries. Women, after all, had inherent weaknesses, limited powers of reasoning, and emotions too easily stirred by the vapours from the womb. Men seriously regarded women as incompetent to perform the important tasks of society, too frivolous and whimsical to be trusted in serious endeavour: on the huge stage of the world, men were intended to be performers, while women were intended to remain silently and respectfully behind the curtain until called upon by men. From this point of view, women appear not simply inferior to men but creatures of a different order on natures chain of being. (Perry, 1992, 190) Yet the very things that men sensed kept women obviously out of the larger political and social prospect made them unusual in another sphere of life, one important for mens comfort, security, fortunes, and progeny. Those qualities of charitableness, compassion, submissiveness, and piety were icons of the household. Women in the domestic setting served a masculine society as totems of family values, of stability, of purity, of concern, and of loyalty. Affectionate marriages replacing the traditional contract alliances suggest mens recognition that they had to satisfy their emotional needs through matrimony. Certainly there was greater gratification in the romantic relationship than in the bleak ties of a loveless arrangement (Stone, 1977, pp. 4, 5, 7, 119; Hagstrum, 1980, pp. 1-2). Superficially, at least, it would feel like there was some type of triumph for womanhood in this new companionate marriage and its implications for greater authority at least in the household. It would seem not a bad trade-off for women who generally conceded their intellectual inferiority to men. It did, after all, give women sway in household matters more than they ever. It allowed them to act with enough guile to reignby insinuating ways so long as they maintained their customary mildness and cheerfulness.† For a lot of women the progress of the affectionate marriage, the regal control over the household, and the idealisation of womanhood that accompanied it must surely have been satisfying whatsoever the cost in having to deny the full intellect and sexuality of ones nature. For such women, words like William Alexanders in 1779 would have sounded comforting rather than annoying: As women are, in polished society, weak and incapable of self-defence, the laws of this country have supplied this defect, and formed a kind of barrier around them, by rendering their per  sons so sacred and inviolable, that even death is, in several cases, the consequence of taking improper advantage of that weakness. As the eighteenth century advanced, whatever their feelings, more and more the sphere of women became clearly the domestic workplace (LeGates, 1976, 21), and woman was idealised by man unless vanished all truly human qualities are vanished except those required to serve mens needs. Surely, however, there were women who would have recognised what Janet Todd labels as belittling idealisation in Alexanders words. Sheryl ODonnell describes such views as patriarchal notions of women as highly venerated inferior beings. Companionate marriage itself, Ruth Perry suggests, may be understandable as a more systematic psychological requisition of women to fulfil the emotional needs of men, a harsh judgment but not altogether untrue. Not all eighteenth-century women could have found pleasure in the notion that marriage was the be-all and end-all of their existence. As far back as Millamant in William Congreve Way of the World, the drawbacks of the marital state provided material for a womans lament; Charlotte Lennox Arabella in The Female Quixote most assuredly recognised the consequence of marriage on women, a good example of the anger that bubble below womens forced surface complacency. Domestic idealism could have had little appeal to the unmarried woman without prospects or to the intellectual female expected to hide her learning from an easily affronted male ego. Information that domestic responsibilities rated higher than intellectual interests could hardly have pleased the Bluestockings, however well they learned to play the game of self-effacement in a male society. Still, in the beginning and ending years in the time period from 1660 to 1800, female voices of protest were limited in a patriarchal society, and no great chorus joined such soloists as Mary Astell, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and Mary Wollstonecraft. If the companionate marriage undoubtedly brought greater passion to the marital state itself, it did nothing to enlarge the sense and possibility of female sexuality in the general society. In fact, in some ways the marriage of affection demanded new or increased insistence on female chastity before and after the wedding. To be sure, the dual criterion in sexual matters willingly acknowledged that men bring sexual knowledge to the marriage bed. With the view of the womans superior morality, her idealisation as a symbol of maternal tenderness, and her embodiment of Christian virtues, however, came a demand for purity, both physical and mental. Idealisation merely brought the upper-and middle-class woman to a point where she was expected to deny her genuine emotionseither to suppress her passions or, at least, pretends that they did not exist. None of this, of course, applied to women of the lower orders. They were regarded as morally and socially inferior, not in control of their passions, and natural game for the male sex-hunter, particularly of the established classes. No better example of the double standard exists than the marital relationship of Samuel Johnsons friends, the Thrales. Henry Thrale, the brewer, carried on illicit relationships throughout his marriage to Hester Thrale. As a consequence of his behaviour, he suffered repeated venereal ailments, the treatment of which became, in part, his wifes responsibility even during a pregnancy. Still, no one in their society, and even Hester Thrales twentieth-century male biographer, found Henry Thrales conduct appalling. Indeed, like other males in their circle (Boswell, of course, is a good example); Henry Thrale, certainly, have his suffering as a sign of the nobility of his virility. His friends looked upon such manhood, if not the consequence, as admirable. Yet, when her husband died and Mrs. Thrale married Gabriel Piozzi, an Italian musician, she scandalised her circle of friendsincluding the novelist Fanny Burneynot simply because Piozzi was an Italian Catholic and a musician, but because in choosing him despite these drawbacks she had displayed a passion unbecoming to a woman of her times. She had placed her romantic feelings, her sexual desires, above the common sense expected of the now desexualised respectable woman. In every way society had made women citizens of another country. The double standard allowed men to cheat freely on their wives while demanding impeccable fidelity from them. For upper-class men to foist bastards on lower-class women, including their own household servants, brought neither shame nor embarrassment to them. If they chose to pay for the upkeep of these children, that was evidence of their generosity. If idealisation had made married women beings devoid of normal human emotions, the very laws of their country turned them into chattel, the property of their husbands. Let a woman fall from grace, and it required a miracle or at least a generous-hearted novelist to rescue her from utter destruction. Once having yielded to her passions, she was regarded as appropriate victim for all other males in her society. Even at the lower levels of society, the disparity of the sexes is evident, for example, in such a thing as the notorious practice of wife-selling in the period. Despite a recent attempt to apologise for it as a poor mans system of divorce and to show that women frequently found satisfaction in it (Thompson, 1991), the fact remains that it was the selling of wives and not husbands that characterised the procedure. Like the very system that excluded women from the public sphere, the terms of more personal relationships removed women from intimate relationships with men. Given the circumstances of women in eighteenth century society, it is not remarkable that they cut such poor figures in the novels of the period. One way or another, they were perceived by male writers as stereotypes: idealised heroines, fallen figures, comic and grotesque old maids, bluestockings, sexy servants, and the like. It would require the talents and sensitivity of the most unusual male writeror, indeed, femaleto get beyond the facade and thus create as well-rounded female characters as the believable heroes of eighteenth-century fiction. Very much a part of that male-dominant society of eighteenth-century England, Tobias Smollett could be likely considering women from that limited perspective. Indeed, it would be hard to identify a writer in the period more likely to display an example of the masculine sensibility. Even more than Henry Fielding, the contemporary novelist that he is most similar to, Smollett wrote novel that has, from his era to the present, appealed largely to male readers. Whether in his personal life, his attitude toward women in the real world, his generic literary interests, or the interrelationships among them, the forces shaping Smolletts novels led naturally to the small roles acted by caricatured women in his writing. Clearly, from whatever stance it has been written, critical opinion has consistently denied Smolletts ability to deal with women and their emotions. Feminist critics find his work insignificant for their purposes, contrast his blindness to female sensitivities with Samuel Richardsons awareness of womens feelings, and charge him with a misunderstanding and respect for the opposite sex. More traditional evaluations of Smolletts treatment, from early on and regardless of the gender of the writers, prove equally dismissive of his talent for dealing with women, their feelings, or their relationships with men. When Smolletts female characters are not being ignored, they are discussed for their eccentricities, their absence of reality, or their evidence of the authors paternalistic attitudes. Their very presence in Smolletts work and their treatment are attributed to the writers need to satisfy public taste rather than to any genuine personal interest in them. Whether as stereotypical idealised heroines or comic grotesques, Smolletts women are perceived only in relation to the roles they serve to satisfy his heroes needs. Certainly, neither Smollett’s life nor fiction displays the kind of sensitivity to womens emotions that would permit him to create heroines that go much beyond the idealisation that makes their sexual passions anything more than a convenience to gratify their husbands desires. If he achieves a sense of sympathy for the situation of fallen women in a character like Miss Williams in Roderick Random, her tale and its emotions are largely written to formulaic stereotypes. The distance between the fictional conventions in her story and the more revealing inset of Memoirs of a Lady of Quality in Peregrine Pickle reveals the contrast between masculine assumptions and genuine feminine sensitivities. Smollett feels most secure in his comic or grotesque female characters because they dependdespite his superior skillson conventional stereotypes that protect him from having to go too deeply into their emotions. After all, affectionate awareness toward women should barely be expected from a novelist capable of repeatedly harsh treatment of Jews (with the exception of Joshua in Ferdinand Count Fathom) and of blacks in both Roderick Random and Humphry Clinker. The wonder of it is that Smollettfor all his limitationsmanaged to generate so much diversity in his female characters of all types. That fact suggests the importance of talent and the effects of function in fiction. Smolletts limitations begin with his personal experience. Some sense of what can be expected in Smolletts female characters, especially his heroines, becomes evident in an inspection of his real relationships and associations with women. Although the much time has passed when simple biographical criticism could be freely used to explain works of literature that does not mean that an authors life is so distinct from his or her writing that biographical material cannot contribute to a better understanding of how and why the writers fiction takes the shape that it does. The authors interests, values, and experiences, after all, account for choice in subject matter, methods of presentation, and objects of focus. If, for example, a writer regards women in a particular way, that attitude is expected to influence his or her treatment of female characters. If a writer concentrates on a hero rather than a heroines activities and interests, then it is likely to be the hero who dominates the work while women play minor or subsidiary roles. For Smollett especially, since he depended too much on his own experiences and sought to bring to his fiction a genuine sense of the actual world as he perceived it, the facts of his biography as they bear upon his relationships to women seem appropriate. (Beasley, 1982, pp. 74ff. 82-83) Given Smolletts dependence on experience and his associations with women, it is not astonishing that he opts for the picaresque mode for his novels, that he emphasizes the adventures of a single male character, and that he utilizes his imagined women chiefly as adjuncts to the interests of his heroes. Smolletts biography, particularly his personal and emotional relationships with women, discloses a strongly male personality, even for an eighteenth-century man that forecasts the manner in which female characters appear in his novels-novels, after all, entitled Roderick Random and Peregrine Pickle rather than Pamela or Clarissa. Judged by what we know of Smolletts relationship with his spouse, he was a man who, if he had romantic passion, managed very well to control any expression of it. At a time when a new order of familial connections had become well established and affection between marital partners was the norm, Smolletts biography and work reflect no real tendency to an open expression of romantic feelings toward Nancy (Anne) Lassells, the West Indian heiress whom he married in about 1743. That very doubt about their wedding date suggests the manner in which Smollett chose to expose his personal feelings to the world. The same vagueness marks the place of their marriage, and Smolletts earliest biographersthose, after all, closest to the evidence and one a good friendcould provide no help on the matter and had to resort to creating imaginary details about it and about Anne herself. Like the idealised heroines of romance, Smolletts wife, as presented by him, seems little more than a fictional construction existing for the role she played in the life of the hero. Smolletts taciturnity about his most intimate relationship with a woman seems to mask what strongly appears to have been a good marriage. No evidence of other womenbefore or during their marriageexists anywhere in Smolletts biography, an absence that perhaps helps account for the lack of any concreteness in his portrayal of the emotional lives of most of his heroines. Certainly Smollett never indicates any dissatisfaction with their relationship. The one statement in a letter to Robert Barclay in 1744 that enigmatically expresses Smolletts uncertain state at the time may refer, as Lewis Knapp suggests, to Smolletts financial insecurity. Characteristically, Smollett holds back on the details. Smollett himself, years later in his Will, gives an apparent portrait of his considerations of Anne. Although Knapp says of the document, Through the legal terminology of [it] there burns the flame ofhis true affection for his wife, its formality speaks more to her generosity than to any strong emotion on his part. The novelist who could readily give vent to passions of anger and revenge in both life and fiction could not easily find words to describe the romantic emotions of love. Unlike Henry Mackenzie, his fellow Scots novelist, Smollett could not employ the vocabulary of a man of feeling. Even in his Will he can come up with no stronger language than my dear Wife Anne Smollett. When Dr. Giovanni Gentili, after Smolletts death, summarised the life of the Smolletts as one of perfect harmony, he appears to be seeing the relationship through Smolletts own stoical sensibility. That same stoicism did not characterize Anne. The few documents of hers we have reveal not only an intelligent and informed woman but also physically powerful touching association in their matrimony in spite of her husbands incapability forever to find suitable words to explain it. Certainly, for all that is recognized of Smolletts touching eruption of annoyance with others, it seems that he knew reasonably well not to vent his ill temper in opposition to his spouse, or, at any rate, she knew well as to how to deal with him in a matrimony that provides no proof that he ever mislaid her warmth. Like Smollett, she could explode when circumstances called for it, but unlike him she could find a tender phrase to express her feelings of love and did not falter in doing so. In a letter to Archibald Hamilton in 1773, she displays a fairly close familiarity with her husbands work and a good understanding of literature. Protective of her husbands reputation, she pushes, ultimately successfully, for a monument to his memory. She enquires that his volumes be transferred to her. She bemoans how much that Dear Man Suffered while he wrote Humphry Clinker during his terminal illness and how miss-used he was by his publisher. For her he was my dear Smollett, and, as their friend Robert Graham wrote in a prologue to a play for her benefit, she was capable of weeping for the loss of Smollet [sic] [who] once was mine! Only once does Smollett himself provide a picture of their blissful marriage. In an undated fragment of a letter, he writes: Many a time do I stop my task and betake me to a game of romps with Betty [Elizabeth, his daughter), while my wife looks on smiling and longing in her heart to join in the sport; then back to the cursed round of duty. The round of duty is Smolletts, not Annes, and she remains, like women of her time, an appendage to her husband. In Smolletts letters, poetry, and Travels Through France and Italy, the same picture emerges. Perhaps it is unfair to use his letters as evidence. Smollett’s routine was too hectic to apprehend himself with writing letters, and generally they are perfunctory and business-like, hardly the place to expect much emotional expression, let alone romantic effusions. If any were ever written to Anne herself, they no longer exist. References to her are few: regards to a family member and friends, a comment about selling part of her estate, the puzzling remark to Barclay perhaps about his trepidations about marriage, and a comment on her health. In a letter to Richard Smith, an American admirer, in 1763, however, Smollett summarizes his life and describes his marriage. To be sure, it would be remarkable if Smollett displayed his emotions in a letter to a stranger. Nevertheless, his comment illustrates again his characteristic coldness in his references to Anne: I married, very young, Jamaican, a young Lady famous and respected across the world, under the name of Miss Nancy Lassells; and by her I enjoy a relaxing though modest area in that Island. The coldness of Smolletts language and what he chooses to say are a remarkable foreshadowing of the descriptive terms in his Will. Even in a letter to his friend Alexander Reid after the Smolletts had lost their only child, Smollett, while speaking of his grief in a half a sentence, ignores altogether the impact on Anne and only later speaks of his wife as enjoy[ing] pretty good Health. Not even in poetry apparently concentrated on Anne does Smollett manage to convey romantic emotion. His novels show him to be passionateabout injustice, personal grievance, stupidity, and the like. In the poem Tears of Scotland on the outrageous treatment of the Scots after the Battle of Culloden, he does not hold back on his feelings, and in Ode to Leven-Water in Humphry Clinker he explode forward into over-romantic reminiscence. And yet neither A Declaration in Love: Ode to Blue-Eyd Ann nor his Pastoral Ballad (both published in his British Magazine in 1760) rises above the variety of part conservative in his era or proffers everything close to profound feeling. The ode, probably a relic of his courtship, seems rescued from a pile of old papers to serve as filler in his new magazine. The ballad, a stock part, has no value save for the detail that it is almost certainly Smolletts. Neither has the strength or passion that suggests genuine emotion. Nor was it likely that Smolletts poems would be open declarations of his deepest romantic feelings. When Lord George Lyttelton published his openly sentimental monody on the death of his wife, Smollett responded with a savage parody in Peregrine Pickle. Smollett was no Lyttelton, nor was he like the later Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who cast the inscribed poems into the grave of his wife, Elizabeth Siddall. If Roderick Randoms two poems to the heroine of his novel (225-27) or the poet Melopoyns, in which Roderick substitutes her name for the characters, were inspired by Smolletts feelings for Anne (and the novel was, after all, written only a few years after their marriage), it would be a sign of his sentiments, romantic feelings that he otherwise managed to keep well hidden. For Smollett, womeneven the woman to whom he was closestwere attendant upon men just as the heroines of his novels served to fill out mens stories and adventures. They were observed, when they were observed, from the outside. Consider the character that Anne has in Travels Through France and Italy. Although she was present throughout the journey, she seems barely to exist. According to Knapp, the references to Anne in the Travels signified that the author was affectionately dedicated to his Ann. In a paternalistic way that is factual, but it is even more to the note to point that the minute part that she participates in the work hands out the reasons of the performer, the male explorer who is the focal point of the books concentration. Smolletts strong masculine sensibility so evident in his marital relationship was bound to affect his treatment of female characters in his novels. That same sensibility apparently influenced his relationship with women in the society outside his home, and that, too, would help account for his fictional approach to members of the other sex, especially limiting his ability to go below the surface of his female characters to develop their emotions and to understand their sensibilities. No other major male writer in the period seems so restricted in his association with women, particularly in social situations. References Beasley, Jerry C. (1982) â€Å"Novels of the 1740s† Athens: University of Georgia Press, pp. 74ff. 82-83 Burney, Frances. (1970) â€Å"Evelina; or, a Young Ladys Entrance into the World†, ed. Edward A. Bloom. London: Oxford University Press: 7, 9. Colley, Linda (1992), Britons Forging the Nation 1707-1837, New Haven and London: Yale University Press, p. 252 Hagstrum, Jean H. (1980), Sex and Sensibility: Ideal and Erotic Love from Milton to Mozart, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, pp. 1-2. LeGates, Marlene (Fall 1976) The Cult of Womanhood in Eighteenth-Century Thought, Eighteenth-Century Studies 10: 21 Perry, Ruth (Feb. 1992) Colonizing the Breast: Sexuality and Maternity in Eighteenth Century England, Eighteenth-Century Life 16, n.s. 1: 190. Rogers, Katharine M. (Fall 1977) Inhibitions in Eighteenth-Century Women Novelists: Elizabeth Inch bald and Charlotte Smith, Eighteenth-Century Studies 11: 64-65, 78. Stone, Lawrence (1977), The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500-1800, New York: Harper and Row, pp. 4, 5, 7, 119 Thompson, E. P.   (1991), Customs in Common: Studies in Traditional Popular Culture (New York: The New Press, Ch. 7. Todd, Janet The Sign of Angellica: Women; Writing, and Fiction, 1660-1800 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989), pp. 9-10.

Religion vs. Rights: Which One Belongs In Schools? :: essays research papers

Religion vs. Rights: Which One Belongs In Schools? Before the government provided formal schools and programs of education, religion had been a major part of every person's education. As public schools started, this teaching of faiths continued with the practice of prayer before class and bible reading sessions (Burstein, 26). Were those actions taken in these classes constitutional, or did the practicing of religious activities deny people the freedom of religion guaranteed in the constitution? Many of those who find prayer and religion in school offensive say that it is a violation of their rights. Mr. Justice Black of the United States Supreme Court, once said, "The First Amendment has erected a wall between the Church and State which must be keep high and impregnable" (Bosmajian, 7). Those in support of religious teachings in public schools see participation in theological activities as a chance to teach morals, community ethics, and peace over violence. Nevertheless, the achievement of those goals through the deni al of basic rights is wrong. Today's society is, fast paced, competitive, and based totally on equality. Consequently, religion, whether it be denominational or not, has no place in the classrooms of today's public schools. The reasons for this position are the establishment clause, the rulings of the Supreme Court, and the role that a school has in a community. What is stopping this process of allowing prayer and schools to combine? The establishment clause is the main cause of this roadblock. The American public seems to think that the establishment clause, or religious freedom, means that personal beliefs can be instituted any place at any time. They feel that the courts interpretation of the clause not only takes God out of the lives of the students, but that the removal of religion also removes basic ethics and the teaching of morals (Gay, 65). This removal of ethics seems to have possibly caused the lack of respect for teachers and education as a whole. The courts say that this right's purpose is to create a wall that will separate the church from the state and that it will not and can not fall. This clause is the rock, on which they base all their decisions on, where they turn to figure out whether a violation of rights had occurred. To put this idea into more simple terms, the purpose of the anti-prayer position is that the gove rnment does not want to specifically support, show preference of, or exclude and particular religion or denominational sect (Burstein, 28).

Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 5~6

Chapter 5 A day later, the train screeched to a stop. â€Å"Baton Rouge!† a conductor called in the distance. We were getting closer to New Orleans, but the time was creeping by far too slowly for my liking. I flattened my back against the wall of the car, noticing passengers hastily packing up their belonging as they prepared to vacate their quarters, when my eye fell upon a green ticket, emblazoned with a large boot print. I knelt down and picked it up.Mr. Remy Picard, Richmond to New Orleans. I tucked it into my pocket and jauntily walked back through the train, until I felt someone gazing at me curiously. I turned around. Two sisters were smiling at me through the window of a private compartment, their expressions bemused. One was working on a piece of needlepoint, the other writing in a leather-bound diary. They were being watched with hawk-like intensity by a short, plump woman in her sixties, clad in all black, most likely their aunt or guardian. I opened the door. â€Å"Sir?† the woman said, turning toward me. I locked my gaze onto her watery blue eyes. â€Å"I believe you left something in the dining car,† I said. â€Å"Something you need.† I continued, copying Damons low, steady voice. Her eyes shifted, but I sensed that this was different from the way the conductor had responded to my words. When Id tried to compel the conductor, it was as if my thoughts had collided with steel; here, it was as though my thoughts were breaking through fog. She cocked her head, clearly listening. â€Å"I left something † She trailed off, sounding confused. But I could sense something in my brain, a sort of melding of our minds, and I knew she wouldnt fight me. Immediately, the woman shifted her bulk and stood up from her seat. â€Å"Why, ah, I believe I did,† she said, turning on her heel and walking back down the hall without a backward glance. The metallic door of the car closed with a click, and I pulled the heavy navy curtains over the little window to the aisle. â€Å"Nice to make your acquaintance,† I said as I bowed to the two girls. â€Å"My name is Remy Picard,† I said, surreptitiously gazing down at the ticket poking out of my breast pocket. â€Å"Remy,† the taller girl repeated quietly, as if committing my name to memory. I felt my fangs throb against my gums. I was so hungry, and she was so exquisite I mashed my lips together and forced myself to stand still.Not yet. â€Å"Finally! Aunt Minnies never left us alone!† the older girl said. She looked to be about sixteen. â€Å"She thinks we arent to be trusted.† â€Å"Arent you now?† I teased, easing into the flirtation as the compliments and responses volleyed back and forth. As a human, I would have hoped such an exchange would end with a squeeze of the hand or a brush of lips against a cheek. Now, all I could think of was the blood coursing through the girls veins. I sat down next to the older girl, the younger ones eyes searching me curiously. She smelled like gardenias and bread just out of the oven. Her sister–they must have been sisters, with the same tawny brown hair and darting blue eyes–smelled richer, like nutmeg and freshly fallen leaves. â€Å"Im Lavinia, and this is Sarah Jane. Were going to move to New Orleans,† the one girl said, putting her needlepoint down on her lap. â€Å"Do you know it? Im worried Ill miss Richmond horribly,† she said plaintively. â€Å"Our papa died,† Sarah Jane added, her lower lip trembling. I nodded, running my tongue along my teeth, feeling my fangs. Lavinias heart was beating far faster than her sisters. â€Å"Aunt Minnie wants to marry me off. Will you tell me whats it like, Remy?† Lavinia pointed to the ring on my fourth finger. Little did she know that the ring had nothing to do with marriage and everything to do with being able to hunt girls like her in broad daylight. â€Å"Being married is lovely, if you meet the right man. Do you think youll meet the right man?† I asked, staring into her eyes. â€Å"I I dont know. I suppose if hes anything like you, then I should count myself lucky.† Her breath was hot on my cheek, and I knew that I couldnt control myself for much longer. â€Å"Sarah Jane, I bet your auntie needs some help,† I said, glancing into Sarah Janes blue eyes. She paused for a moment, then excused herself and went to find her aunt. I had no idea if I was compelling her or if she was simply following my orders, because she was a child and I was an adult. â€Å"Oh, youre wicked, arent you?† Lavinia asked, her eyes flashing as she smiled at me. â€Å"Yes,† I said brusquely. â€Å"Yes, I am wicked, my dear.† I bared my teeth, watching with great satisfaction as her eyes widened with horror. The best part of feeding was the anticipation, seeing my victim trembling, helpless,mine. I slowly leaned in, savoring the moment. My lips grazed her soft skin. â€Å"No!† she gasped. â€Å"Shhh,† I whispered, pulling her closer and allowing my teeth to touch her skin, subtly at first, then more insistently, until I sank my teeth into her neck. Her moans became screams, and I held my hand over her mouth to silence her as I sucked the sweet liquid into my mouth. She groaned slightly, but soon her sighs turned into kittenish mews. â€Å"New Orleans, next stop!† the conductor yelled, breaking my reverie. I glanced out the window. The sun was sinking low into the sky, and Lavinias nearly dead body felt heavy in my arms. Outside the window, New Orleans rose up as if in a dream, and I could see the ocean continuing on and on forever. It was like my life was destined to be: never-ending years, never-ending feedings, never-ending pretty girls with sweet sighs and sweeter blood. â€Å"Forever panting, and forever young,† I whispered, pleased at how well the lines from the poet Keats suited my new life. â€Å"Sir!† The conductor knocked on the door. I strode out of the compartment, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He was the same conductor whod stopped Damon and me just outside Mystic Falls, and I saw suspicion flash across his face. â€Å"Were in New Orleans, then?† I asked, the taste of Lavinias blood in the back of my throat. The ginger-haired conductor nodded. â€Å"And the ladies? Theyre aware?† â€Å"Oh yes, theyre aware,† I said, not breaking my gaze as I slipped my ticket out of my pocket. â€Å"But they asked not to be disturbed. And I ask not to be disturbed, too. Youve never seen me. Youve never been by this compartment. Later, if anyone asks, you say there may have been some thieves who got on the train outside Richmond. They looked suspicious. Union soldiers,† I invented. â€Å"Union soldiers?† the conductor repeated, clearly confused. I sighed. Until I had compelling under control, Id have to resort to a more permanent style of memory erasing. In a flash I grabbed the conductor by the neck and snapped it as easily as if it were a sweet pea. Then I threw him into the compartment with Lavinia and shut the door behind me. â€Å"Yes, Union soldiers always do make a bloody mess of things, dont they?† I asked rhetorically. Then, whistling the whole way, I went to collect Damon from the gentlemens club car. Chapter 6 Damon was slumped right where Id left him, an untouched whiskey glass sweating on the oak table in front of him. â€Å"Come on,† I said roughly, yanking Damon up by the arm. The train was slowing, and all around us passengers were gathering their belongings and lining up behind a conductor who stood in front of the black iron doors to the outside world. But since we were unencumbered by possessions and blessed with strength, I knew our best bet was to exit the train the same way wed entered: by jumping off the back of the caboose. I wanted us both to be long gone before anyone noticed anything was amiss. â€Å"You look well,brother.† His tone was light, but the chalkiness of his skin and the purpling beneath his eyes gave away just how truly tired and hungry he was. For an instant, I wished Id left some of Lavinia for him, but quickly brushed aside the thought. I had to take a firm hand. That was how Father used to train the horses. Denying them food until they finally stopped yanking on the reins and submitted to being ridden. It was the same with Damon. He needed to be broken. â€Å"One of us has to maintain our strength,† I told Damon, my back to him as I led the way to the last car of the train. The train was still creeping along, the wheels scraping against the iron lengths of track. We didnt have much time. We scrambled back through the sooty coal to the door, which I pulled open easily. â€Å"On three! One Two † I grabbed his wrist and jumped. Both of our knees hit the hard dirt below with a thud. â€Å"Always have to show off, dont you, brother?† Damon said, wincing. I noticed his trousers had been torn at the knees from the fall, and his hands were pockmarked with gravel. I was untouched, except for a scrape on my elbow. â€Å"You should have fed.† I shrugged. The whistle of the train shrieked, and I took in the sights. We were on the edge of New Orleans, a bustling city filled with smoke and an aroma like a combination of butter and firewood and murky water. It was far bigger than Richmond, which had been the largest city Id ever known. But there was something else, a sense of danger that filled the air. I grinned. Here was a city we could disappear in. I began walking toward town at the superhuman speed I still hadnt gotten used to, Damon trailing behind me, his footfalls loud and clumsy, but steady. We made our way down Garden Street, clearly a main artery of the city. Surrounding us were rows of homes, as neat and colorful as dollhouses. The air was soupy and humid, and voices speaking French, English, and languages Id never heard created a patchwork of sound. Left and right, I could see alleyways leading down to the water, and rows of vendors were set up on the sidewalks, selling everything from freshly caught turtles to precious stones imported from Africa. Even the presence of blue-coated Union soldiers on every street corner, their muskets at their hips, seemed somehow festive. It was a carnival in every sense of the word, the type of scene Damon would have loved when we were human. I turned to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Damons lips were curved in a slight smile, his eyes glowing in a way I hadnt seen in what felt like ages. We were in this adventure together, and now, away from memories of Katherine and Fathers remains and Veritas, maybe Damon could finally accept and embrace who he was. â€Å"Remember when we said wed travel the world?† I asked, turning toward him. â€Å"This is our world now.† Damon nodded slightly. â€Å"Katherine told me about New Orleans. She once lived here.† â€Å"And if she were here, shed want you to make this town your own–to live here, be here, to take your fill and make your place in the world.† â€Å"Always the poet.† Damon smirked, but he continued to follow me. â€Å"Perhaps, but its true. All of this is ours,† I said encouragingly, spreading my hands wide. Damon took a moment to consider my words and simply said, â€Å"All right, then.† â€Å"All right?† I repeated, hardly hoping to believe it. It was the first time hed glanced into my eyes since our fight at the quarry. â€Å"Yes. Im following you.† He turned in a citcle, pointing to the various buildings. â€Å"So, where do we stay? What do we do? Show me this brave new world.† Damons lips twisted into a smile, and I couldnt tell whether he was mocking me or was speaking in earnest. I chose to believe the latter. I sniffed the air and immediately caught a whiff of lemon and ginger.Katherine.Damons shoulders stiffened; he must have smelled it, too. Wordlessly, both of us spun on our heels and walked down an unmarked alleyway, following a woman wearing a satin lilac dress, a large sunbonnet on top of her dark curls. â€Å"Maam!† I called. She turned around. Her white cheeks were heavily rouged and her eyes ringed with kohl. She looked to be in her thirties, and already worry lines creased her fair forehead. Her hair fell in tendrils around her face, and her dress was cut low, revealing far too much of her freckled bosom than was strictly decorous. I knew instantly she was a scarlet woman, one wed whisper about as boys and point to when we were in the tavern in Mystic Falls. â€Å"You boys lookin for a good time?† she said languidly, her gaze flicking from me to Damon, then back again. She wasnt Katherine, not even close, but I could see a flicker in Damons eyes. â€Å"I don't think finding a place to stay will be a problem,† I whispered under my breath. â€Å"Don't kill her,† Damon whispered back, his jaw barely moving. â€Å"Come with me. I have some gals whod love to meet you. You seem like the type of boys who need adventure. That right?† She winked. A storm was brewing, and I could vaguely hear thunderclaps in the far distance. â€Å"Were always looking for an adventure with a pretty lady,† I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Damon tighten his jaw, and I knew he was fighting the urge to feed.Don't fight it, I thought, fervently hoping Damon would drink as we followed her along the cobblestone streets. â€Å"Were right here,† she said, using a large key to unlock the wrought-iron door of a periwinkle blue mansion at the end of a cul-de-sac. The house was well kept, but the buildings on either side seemed abandoned, with chipping paint and gardens overflowing with weeds. I could hear the jaunty sound of a piano playing within. â€Å"Its my boardinghouse, Miss Mollys. Except, of course, at this boardinghouse we show you sometruehospitality, if thats what youre in the mood for,† she said, batting her long eyelashes. â€Å"Coming?† â€Å"Yes, maam.† I pushed Damon through the doorway, then locked the door behind us.

African Americans Shape The Course And Consequences Of The...

In what ways did African Americans shape the course and consequences of the Civil War? In the village of Hampton there was a man who goes by the name of Benjamin F. Butler who had in his words, â€Å"a large number of Negros, many of them are composed in a great measure of women and children who had fled thither within my lines for protection, who had escaped from marauding Rebels who had been gathering up able-bodied blacks to aid them in construction their batteries on the James and York rivers... (Doc A)† This may prove to us that Ben was a slave owner in Virginia possibly before the Civil War and during the Civil War. Ben had some questions on his mind about his slaves, â€Å"First, what shall be done with them? Second, what is their state and condition? Upon these questions I desire the instruction of the department. (Doc A)† He had many other questions about his slaves and how the way he was treating them, â€Å"... Are these men, women, and children slaves? Are they free? Is their condition that of men, women, and children, or of property, or is it a mixed relation? What has been the effect of rebellion and a state of war on their status? (Doc A)† Ben had his moments on his questions about the slaves and the events that are going on, but he had something to say to his questions in his head, â€Å"When I adopted the theory of treating the able-bodied Negro fit to work in the trenches as property liable to be used in aid of rebellion, and so contraband of war, that condition of things wasShow MoreRelatedIn What Ways Did African Americans Shape the Course and Consequences of the Civil War? Confine Your Answer to the Years from 1861 to 1870.1277 Words   |  6 PagesWhen the Civil War began in 1861, the issue of slavery was not the central focus of the war effort on the side of the Union. While it was still important to many in the North, the main war aim of the Union side was to preserve the Union and make sure it remained intact. 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