Diane Reynolds responded to my post about the iceberg of
intertextuality concealed beneath the allusion to Prior’s Henry and Emma as follows:
"Arnie,
an interesting post, convincingly supported with dense readings of the
scholarship. Inkle and Yarico must be
a part of this; we’ve discussed this before, and I went back to the original
Steele text in The Spectator: in the
first lines, the word constancy appears, establishing this as the theme of that
essay, and Arietta strikes me more than ever as a parallel to Anne and Austen
(or vice versa)..."
Diane,
I am absolutely gobsmacked that I didn’t remember that female constancy was a
major theme of Inkle and Yarico,
which, as you say, indeed indeed indeed must be part of that intertextual
matrix in Persuasion! I just went
back to my file from only a few months ago about Mansfield islands which I had compiled
after reading your remarkable initial post on that topic, and here's what I was
going to write to you then, but then I had way too much material to put in a
single post, so I put it aside:
"Diane, when
Felsenstein quoted Steele’s Arietta re women reacting to being insulted, he did
not realize that Steele’s Arietta provides the most important source for Anne
Elliot’s defense of female constancy. When I went back to Steele’s entire text,
it became even more obvious..."
This is totally mind-blowing,
and yet, with 20:20 hindsight, totally to be expected, that Austen, being the
literary packrack that she was, collected ALL the relevant sources for a given
theme -- in this case, the collective male literary slander on female
constancy! I imagine her wonky pleasure as she, over time, collected each
brick in the wall of evidence to support Anne Elliot’s impassioned speech!
My hypothesis is that
Austen had an epiphany right after she finished that first version of the
ending of Persuasion, on multiple levels – first and foremost, she realized
that the first ending was lame from a romantic and novelistic perspective, and
needed to be replaced with a powerful ending; but she also realized that, as
part of that added power, she needed to hammer home the theme of females under
attack as inconstant – so first and foremost, she added the debate between Anne
and Harville; but she also, I am guessing, added that sentence explicitly referring
to Henry and Emma in Chapter 11 as
well. She realized that she had been too implicit, and so she decided to give a
giant hint or two to help well-read readers recognize what was going on.
Thanks a
million for bringing that forward!!!
I also have
a few extra tidbits that I collected this morning: one tiny, one huge:
First
the tiny one, re Anne and Wentworth as latter-day, comic-ending Clarissa and
Lovelace, here is the wonderfully sensitive reader, Juliet McMaster, in her
2004 book Reading the Body in the
Eighteenth-Century Novel: “Like Lovelace and
Clarissa, Anne and Wentworth are ‘great watchers of each other’s eyes’; and the
eye motions as well as the blushes and pallor, provide their best means of
communication.”
Second,
here is sly wordplay, which I found with a bit of creative word-searching, hidden
in plain sight in the picturesque narrative description of Pinny (the highlight
of the Lyme land and seascape described in Chapter 11 of Persuasion).
I suggest that is meant to point to Richardson’s Lovelace – can you spot it?
Scroll down when you’re ready, to learn what I see, and why I find it very
important.
“…above
all, Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic rocks, where the scattered
forest trees and orchards of luxuriant growth, declare that many a generation
must have passed away since the first partial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a state, where
a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as may more than equal any of
the resembling scenes of the far-famed Isle of Wight: these places must be
visited, and visited again, to make the worth of Lyme understood…”
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DOWN
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I know
it will seem far-fetched at first, but “lovely is” just happens to be a very close
homophone for “Lovelace”. So what? Standing alone, what light would it shed on
the allusion to Clarissa in Persuasion? Well, it becomes very interesting
when you take a closer look at the rest of that quoted excerpt, in which “the worth
of Lyme” in picturesque terms is measured by comparison to “the resembling
scenes” in another, more famous, local picturesque spot – the Isle of Wight
(which is, by the way, not visible from Lyme, but is located further to the
east on the southern English coast).
It becomes
more significant because it just so happens, as I found out via a single search
within the text of Clarissa, that the
Isle of Wight actually plays a small but memorable role in Clarissa, as set forth by Lovelace himself in one of his letters to
Belford in Volume 4. In it, Lovelace outlines (as Judith Pascoe put it) his “outrageous
flight of malevolent fancy against Clarissa’s best friend Anna Howe. Lovelace
plans for his coterie of rakes to carry out a triple rape of Anna Howe, her
mother, and their maidservant during a voyage to the Isle of Wight”. To which I
respond, “Whoa!”
Here,
then, is the full, short text of Lovelace’s sexually violent fantasy, after
which I will explain how this fits with that description of the picturesque of
Lyme:
“And
now, that my beloved [Clarissa] seems secure in my net, for my project upon the
vixen Miss Howe, and upon her mother: in which the officious prancer Hickman is
to come in for a dash. But why upon her mother, methinks thou askest, who,
unknown to herself, has only acted, by the impulse, through thy agent Joseph
Leman, upon the folly of old Tony the uncle? No matter for that: she believes
she acts upon her own judgment: and deserves to be punished for pretending to
judgment, when she has none.— Every living soul, but myself, I can tell thee,
shall be punished, that treats either cruelly or disrespectfully so adored a
lady.—What a plague! is it not enough that she is teased and tormented in
person by me?
I have
already broken the matter to our three confederates; as a supposed, not a
resolved-on case indeed. And yet they know, that with me, in a piece of
mischief, execution, with its swiftest feel, is seldom three paces behind
projection, which hardly ever limps neither. [Lovelace then discusses the role
of each of his supposed confederates, and then]
The
project, in short, is this:—Mrs. Howe has an elder sister in the Isle of Wight,
who is lately a widow; and I am well informed, that the mother and daughter
have engaged, before the latter is married, to pay a visit to this lady, who is
rich, and intends Miss for her heiress; and in the interim will make her some
valuable presents on her approaching nuptials; which, as Mrs. Howe, who loves
money more than any thing but herself, told one of my acquaintance, would be
worth fetching.
Now,
Jack, nothing more need be done, than to hire a little trim vessel, which shall
sail a pleasuring backward and forward to Portsmouth, Spithead, and the Isle of
Wight, for a week or fortnight before we enter upon our parts of the plot. And
as Mrs. Howe will be for making the best bargain she can for her passage, the
master of the vessel may have orders (as a perquisite allowed him by his
owners) to take what she will give: and the master's name, be it what it will,
shall be Ganmore on the occasion; for I know a rogue of that name, who is not
obliged to be of any country, any more than we.
Well,
then, we will imagine them on board. I will be there in disguise. They know not
any of ye four—supposing (the scheme so inviting) that thou canst be one. 'Tis
plaguy hard, if we cannot find, or make a storm. Perhaps they will be sea-sick:
but whether they be or not, no doubt they will keep their cabin.
Here
will be Mrs. Howe, Miss Howe, Mr. Hickman, a maid, and a footman, I suppose:
and thus we will order it.
I know
it will be hard weather: I know it will: and, before there can be the least
suspicion of the matter, we shall be in sight of Guernsey, Jersey, Dieppe,
Cherbourg, or any where on the French coast that it shall please us to agree
with the winds to blow us: and then, securing the footman, and the women being
separated, one of us, according to lots that may be cast, shall overcome,
either by persuasion or force, the maid servant: that will be no hard task; and
she is a likely wench, [I have seen her often:] one, Mrs. Howe; nor can there
be much difficulty there; for she is full of health and life, and has been long
a widow: another, [that, says the princely lion, must be I!] the saucy
daughter; who will be much too frightened to make great resistance, [violent
spirits, in that sex, are seldom true spirits—'tis but where they can:] and
after beating about the coast for three or four days for recreation's sake, and
to make sure work, till we see our sullen birds begin to eat and sip, we will
set them all ashore where it will be most convenient; sell the vessel, [to Mrs.
Townsend's agents, with all my heart, or to some other smugglers,] or give it
to Ganmore; and pursue our travels, and tarry abroad till all is hushed up.” END QUOTE from Lovelace letter
Wow! Richardson’s
Lovelace was one very angry, perverted young man, wasn’t he? But what in the
world could Austen have meant by hinting at Lovelace’s violent Isle of Wight fantasy
of sexual violence against “the saucy daughter” Anna Howe, of whom, I suggested
before, Lovelace is insanely jealous, vis a vis their common beloved, Clarissa?
About
40 years ago, Alethea Hayter was, I believe, the first to suggest that Austen was
inspired by and pointing to the following lines in Coleridge’s Kubla Khan:
But oh!
that deep romantic chasm which
slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
From “deep
romantic chasm” to “green chasms between romantic rocks” is a small jump indeed,
and so I do believe Austen meant to paraphrase Coleridge. But why? For the
answer to that, I believe that Loraine Fletcher, in “Time and Mourning in Persuasion” (1998) in Women's Writing,
5:1, 81-90, was on the right track regarding Austen’s unstated purpose: “There
may be an echo of Coleridge’s ‘deep romantic chasm’ in Kubla Khan here,
and the woody varieties and evolution of the landscape perhaps reveal some
interest in The Loves of Plants and other work of Erasmus Darwin, whose influence
on the beginnings of Romanticism is only just beginning to be recognised….”
Whether
Fletcher meant this or not, when we’re talking about The Loves of Plants, we’re talking about erotic poetry which uses natural
imagery drawn from the plant and mineral world in a sexually suggestive way. The Loves of Plants was Erasmus Darwin’s
poetic erotic love letter to his future wife, Mrs. Pole (who, as I’ve claimed
since 2006, was the very same lady who wrote brilliant praise of Mansfield Park).
So (exactly
as I’ve previously claimed regarding the narrative description of Pemberley in
P&P and of Sotherton in MP) Jane Austen has subtly amped up the sexual quotient
from Coleridge’s lines, when she economically creates a subliminal but clear
portrait of the most intimate portion of the female body:
“green
chasms between romantic rocks, where the scattered forest trees and orchards of
luxuriant growth”
That’s
language drawn straight from Cleland’s Fanny
Hill playbook of sexual landscape imagery. And it fits with startling
aptness with Lovelace’s misogynistic
fantasy of sexual violence against Anna Howe. Indeed, given Lovelace’s literary, poetic bent,
I am guessing that there is at least one passage somewhere in the massive bulk
of Clarissa where Lovelace used
comparable erotic landscape imagery.
The Clarissa in Persuasion more and more proves to be a treasure trove of interpretive
possibilities, doesn’t it?
Cheers,
ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode
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