I think I could spend countless hours combing through the American Periodical Series. The resources we have at our fingertips is truly amazing.
I'm going to make this last blog short and sweet because the end-of-semester work is quickly piling up.
To me, the prostitution cases were the most interesting because this is such a social issue. Before I came to the National Police Gazette, in a women's journal I found an article relating the story of one most unfortunate girl who had been forced into prostitution by her mother. In another article from the police reports, I found two little pieces on young girls, "rescued from infamy." One, "a sweet young girl, of French descent" and "another" were taken from separate brothels and returned to their mothers. The report ends with a warning: "Girls do you realize that the average of a life of prostitution is five short years!" It seems to me two things are happening here. One--Mothers are forcing their daughters into prostitution, then feigning relief at their recovery. Two--daughters are running away to lives of prostitution to escape their mothers, or abusive families. Of course, there are alterior reasons for prostitution: money, independence, power, entertainment, etc.
I was surprised to find quite a few other pieces about prostitution, outside of the police reports. In one article from the Philadelphia Minerva (1796), a prostitute confronts one of her customers, saying "Can you reasonably imagine that I covet your false smiles, and empty applause? No, Sir, be assured that I hate you, and all your sex, for the sake of him who first deceived and ruined me." This seemed to be another resonant theme: Girls who are once seduced are forever fallen.
Another article also speaks out for prostitutes: "There are those who maintain, that female prostitutes are necessary to good order, and they argue from the necessity, that a few should be sacrificed for the good of the community at large...Prostitutes have been styled women of pleasure; they are women of pain, of sorrow, of grief, of bitter and continual repentence, without hope of obtaining pardon" (from Weekly Visitor, or Ladies' Miscellany, 1804). To me, this is interesting proof of the ongoing social dialogue concerning prostitution that is not so clear from reading fictional texts, or even the non-fictional (at least, in part) accounts we have read for this class.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
"My firm impression of Mrs. Carson's natural character was, that she would have been a virtuous, good, tame, gentle, affectionate domestic woman, (consequently not a heroine) had she been permitted to choose a husband for herself" (144). (I love this passage, but because I have already discussed women's roles and rights in other blogs, I will move on. I just wanted to share!)
After reading the portion of text written by Mary Clarke, I am perhaps more convinced of my conception of the character Ann Carson formed in my mind by reading her narrative. I am quite aware of Carson's self-fashioning methods and how her ultimate manifestation of her creation occurs in the text. However, I expected the voice of Mary Clarke and Ann Carson to be much more similar or sympathizing. Also surprising, Clarke contradicts herself several times in her portion of the narrative. She first agrees to write the book for Carson only if her authorship is kept a secret. On page 148, Clarke says "one of my stipulations with Mrs. Carson was, that I should not be known in the business--naturally expecting to receive my money for the writing, and that the business would terminate there" (148). Yet several pages later (p. 160), Clarke claims "I wrote the work and am not ashamed of the matter." I speculate several factors contributed to this change of heart. First, Carson first tries to get the book published by Mr. D with the understanding the book would eventually be published with Carson as the assumed author, as Clarke "did not wish to be known in it" (150). Furthermore, several members of the banditti attempt to pay off Carson with quite a sum of money and a offer of relocation to "either New York, Boston, Baltimore or any of the other southern cities, and establish us in a genteel boarding house" (152). Not until this scene does Clarke truly assert her involvement with "the book." She tells the rogues to lay off: "Not quite so fast...I am now her partner in the work, and it shall not be suppressed" (153). Clarke begins to realize the publication of Carson's narrative could make her famous. Famous and Rich. At least, that's what I'm reading here. And I think that is why she puts up with so much of Carson's deviant behavior. Clarke herself is not a rebel, but she is a writer and knows that in Ann Carson she has some really good material.
Clarke's narrative gives a great deal of insight on the ins and outs of 19th century publication. In this case, the publication woes can explain away many of the inconsistent or just plain wacky use of literary devices. For example, Clarke sometimes provides introduction to passages (200) in which she directly addresses the reader. Also, (and of course, now I can't find a page number) after Clarke spends a significant portion of the text describing one event, she will return to "where we left Ann" alone and despairing in some cell or at the brink of doom in some other scrape. But these elements of Clarke's style are not really consistent. So, this reminds me that spelling, grammar, and a great number of other conventions were not yet set in stone in the early 19th century. Also, we did not have graduates of Ivy League English departments running the publishing companies. Rather, these people somehow just fell into the profession, one way or another. Still, none of these considerations can quite explain the wackiness occuring on page 204 and continuing until for several pages. Okay, I get most of the Shakespeare, cliches, characters and the general idea of most of the references, but Why, Clarke, Why? This passage was so inexplicably annoying to me, I had to skip through most of it.
After reading the portion of text written by Mary Clarke, I am perhaps more convinced of my conception of the character Ann Carson formed in my mind by reading her narrative. I am quite aware of Carson's self-fashioning methods and how her ultimate manifestation of her creation occurs in the text. However, I expected the voice of Mary Clarke and Ann Carson to be much more similar or sympathizing. Also surprising, Clarke contradicts herself several times in her portion of the narrative. She first agrees to write the book for Carson only if her authorship is kept a secret. On page 148, Clarke says "one of my stipulations with Mrs. Carson was, that I should not be known in the business--naturally expecting to receive my money for the writing, and that the business would terminate there" (148). Yet several pages later (p. 160), Clarke claims "I wrote the work and am not ashamed of the matter." I speculate several factors contributed to this change of heart. First, Carson first tries to get the book published by Mr. D with the understanding the book would eventually be published with Carson as the assumed author, as Clarke "did not wish to be known in it" (150). Furthermore, several members of the banditti attempt to pay off Carson with quite a sum of money and a offer of relocation to "either New York, Boston, Baltimore or any of the other southern cities, and establish us in a genteel boarding house" (152). Not until this scene does Clarke truly assert her involvement with "the book." She tells the rogues to lay off: "Not quite so fast...I am now her partner in the work, and it shall not be suppressed" (153). Clarke begins to realize the publication of Carson's narrative could make her famous. Famous and Rich. At least, that's what I'm reading here. And I think that is why she puts up with so much of Carson's deviant behavior. Clarke herself is not a rebel, but she is a writer and knows that in Ann Carson she has some really good material.
Clarke's narrative gives a great deal of insight on the ins and outs of 19th century publication. In this case, the publication woes can explain away many of the inconsistent or just plain wacky use of literary devices. For example, Clarke sometimes provides introduction to passages (200) in which she directly addresses the reader. Also, (and of course, now I can't find a page number) after Clarke spends a significant portion of the text describing one event, she will return to "where we left Ann" alone and despairing in some cell or at the brink of doom in some other scrape. But these elements of Clarke's style are not really consistent. So, this reminds me that spelling, grammar, and a great number of other conventions were not yet set in stone in the early 19th century. Also, we did not have graduates of Ivy League English departments running the publishing companies. Rather, these people somehow just fell into the profession, one way or another. Still, none of these considerations can quite explain the wackiness occuring on page 204 and continuing until for several pages. Okay, I get most of the Shakespeare, cliches, characters and the general idea of most of the references, but Why, Clarke, Why? This passage was so inexplicably annoying to me, I had to skip through most of it.
Monday, November 9, 2009
What then had I to fear?
In the second third of the Carson reading, I perceived a developing tension between Ann (or Ann's character) and her reading public. In the text, Carson develops a rather misanthropic approach when describing people, places, ideas and other characters, yet she perseveres in her womanist approach. I picked this up from the Davidson handout: "The unstated premise of sentimental fiction is that women must take greater control of their lives and must make shrewd decisions of the men who come into their lives." Sure sure. However, as the Carson text proves, what sentimental fiction really conveys is that women should take control of their lives as far as this control pleases men and greater society. Although Carson asserts her womanhood from the beginning of the text, she truly begins to develop a tone of resentment to any threat to this autonomy following her incarceration and that of Richard. When John Hart first arrives to tell Ann of her removal to prison, "he weakly replied to her animadversions on his conduct in the accusation, that it was the best thing I could encounter, as it would ultimately justify me to the world, and clear me from suspicion. Here was sophistry as shallow of the mind that conceived it; a charge of murder brought to clear me of suspicion" (v. 1 p. 290). The following passages are pivotal in the narrative for several reasons: This passage marks the beginnings of Carson's life in and out of prisons and court rooms. Also, the narrator refers to "Ann" in the third person. My first thought while reading was that we were about to have a sudden change in narrator, but the first person voice immediately picked up again. Furthermore, this passage marks a psychological death for Carson. She fully realizes the implications of her imprisonment: "All sensation forsook me--my heart ceased to beat, and I literally endured the pangs of death" (v.1 p.292). These elements contribute to my thoughts that the Ann Carson we have thus known is no more. From what I remember, Williams said that the second volume was written/fictionalized by Mary Clarke alone, so this makes sense. To contribute to this new self, Carson begins to more blatantly vilify those opposed to her. I wanted to say she vilified men, especially in the character of Simon Snyder, but she also portrays women rather negatively, especially Richard's cousin Mrs. Campbell.
Something else I've noticed throughout this text: Carson has a rather odd relationship with her mother. In our first reading, I thought it was very interesting when Carson's mother left her when she was ill in order to attend to her father. Also, her mother seems to unexpectedly switch sides when Captain Carson came back, and seems to be quite responsible for the way in which Ann and Richard were dealt with by the law. She is also always pushing Carson to marry this man or that. The first scene in which her mother joins in her in the prison cell is especially eerie.
And so to ammend a previous thought, I would say in sentimental fiction women are encouraged to take control of their lives, as long as it suits their mothers and fathers. Additionally, I am appreciative that Clarke chose to present the life of Carson in narrative form. She could have penned it in the style of sentimental or sensational fiction, and perhaps have been more famous or wealthy. Although this text seems influenced by both, the narrative seems more subversive and better champions real womens' rights, or at least the absurdity of the lack of them.
Something else I've noticed throughout this text: Carson has a rather odd relationship with her mother. In our first reading, I thought it was very interesting when Carson's mother left her when she was ill in order to attend to her father. Also, her mother seems to unexpectedly switch sides when Captain Carson came back, and seems to be quite responsible for the way in which Ann and Richard were dealt with by the law. She is also always pushing Carson to marry this man or that. The first scene in which her mother joins in her in the prison cell is especially eerie.
And so to ammend a previous thought, I would say in sentimental fiction women are encouraged to take control of their lives, as long as it suits their mothers and fathers. Additionally, I am appreciative that Clarke chose to present the life of Carson in narrative form. She could have penned it in the style of sentimental or sensational fiction, and perhaps have been more famous or wealthy. Although this text seems influenced by both, the narrative seems more subversive and better champions real womens' rights, or at least the absurdity of the lack of them.
Monday, November 2, 2009
American Woman, American Girl
Where to begin?!
Is Ann Carson the woman in The Guess Who song or the girl in Tom Petty's?
Of course, I love this narrative because we now have a female perspective to include in our semester-long dialogue concerning counterfeiters in early America, and I happen to be female.
Ann Carson, or her ghostwriter, is "well read." In her early years, Ann spends much of her time with Nathaniel Hutton who "became the director of my studies, which were the most improper a girl my age could pursue, being chiefly confined to novels, plays, and poetry, all calculated to inflame the imagination, counteract the operations of reason, and fill the mind with ideas too refined and fastidious for real life. Heroes floated before my mind's eye, dressed in all the glowing colours the poet's fancy could portray; and love seemed the only deity worthy a place in my heart" (49). Oh, Ann. This relationship seems to be Ann's first in which she must "sell" validation. I mean that Ann knows her "friendship" with Hutton is not clearly legitimate to her society. Following this relationship, Ann becomes more practiced, or simply more calloused, in blurring the lines of social convention. Interestingly, she seeks the knowledge that Hutton brings to her through literature, and not his "lovemaking." Later, when the reader is introduced to the many other gentleman with whom Ann interacts, they are judged based on the value of their "conversation." Although Ann attributes her many intrigues to the failings of love and satisfaction in marriage, one might argue that much of her intrigue stems from her desire and need for intellectual stimulation. Enter stage right: The impact of early American print culture on the American Woman. As a student of literature, I am, of course, opposed to the notion that reading can pollute the mind. However, Ann's aforementioned statement does hold some truth. Literacy rates are increasing. People can more easily access books and other print media. Women's roles are changing. Furthermore, Ann has a keen sense of what, to her, is "American." She tries to explain her rebellion against Captain Carson: "To this kind of conduct, I never could or would, bend. I was an American; a land of liberty had given me birth; my father had been his commanding officer; I felt myself his equal, and pride interdicted my submitting to his caprices" (82). Considering all of this information, how could Ann, in good conscience continue to live in suppressed silence? How could Ann accept her "fortune" and still be a good "American"? Ann's nationalistic sensibilities are not limited to her romantic escapades. Ann makes several remarks concerning the "law." Clearly, Ann understands the difference between "law" and "justice." Both Tufts and Burroughs make these distinctions also.
An amusing contrast: Much like Tufts and Burroughs, Ann has multiple unconventional affairs. Tufts often expresses his appreciation for women in terms of form, or body. Burroughs, in his own subverted way, does this also. Ann is not guiltless in this (remember Major Dunn from page 153, the man with brawn and no brain), but she clearly demonstrates her valuation of other characteristics in man: courage, bravery, honesty, pride and honor, qualities related to her opinion of a good American. However, none of her men quite emulate all, or even more than a few, of these qualities (Daddy issues anyone?).
Anyway, the next couple of weeks should be fun.
Is Ann Carson the woman in The Guess Who song or the girl in Tom Petty's?
Of course, I love this narrative because we now have a female perspective to include in our semester-long dialogue concerning counterfeiters in early America, and I happen to be female.
Ann Carson, or her ghostwriter, is "well read." In her early years, Ann spends much of her time with Nathaniel Hutton who "became the director of my studies, which were the most improper a girl my age could pursue, being chiefly confined to novels, plays, and poetry, all calculated to inflame the imagination, counteract the operations of reason, and fill the mind with ideas too refined and fastidious for real life. Heroes floated before my mind's eye, dressed in all the glowing colours the poet's fancy could portray; and love seemed the only deity worthy a place in my heart" (49). Oh, Ann. This relationship seems to be Ann's first in which she must "sell" validation. I mean that Ann knows her "friendship" with Hutton is not clearly legitimate to her society. Following this relationship, Ann becomes more practiced, or simply more calloused, in blurring the lines of social convention. Interestingly, she seeks the knowledge that Hutton brings to her through literature, and not his "lovemaking." Later, when the reader is introduced to the many other gentleman with whom Ann interacts, they are judged based on the value of their "conversation." Although Ann attributes her many intrigues to the failings of love and satisfaction in marriage, one might argue that much of her intrigue stems from her desire and need for intellectual stimulation. Enter stage right: The impact of early American print culture on the American Woman. As a student of literature, I am, of course, opposed to the notion that reading can pollute the mind. However, Ann's aforementioned statement does hold some truth. Literacy rates are increasing. People can more easily access books and other print media. Women's roles are changing. Furthermore, Ann has a keen sense of what, to her, is "American." She tries to explain her rebellion against Captain Carson: "To this kind of conduct, I never could or would, bend. I was an American; a land of liberty had given me birth; my father had been his commanding officer; I felt myself his equal, and pride interdicted my submitting to his caprices" (82). Considering all of this information, how could Ann, in good conscience continue to live in suppressed silence? How could Ann accept her "fortune" and still be a good "American"? Ann's nationalistic sensibilities are not limited to her romantic escapades. Ann makes several remarks concerning the "law." Clearly, Ann understands the difference between "law" and "justice." Both Tufts and Burroughs make these distinctions also.
An amusing contrast: Much like Tufts and Burroughs, Ann has multiple unconventional affairs. Tufts often expresses his appreciation for women in terms of form, or body. Burroughs, in his own subverted way, does this also. Ann is not guiltless in this (remember Major Dunn from page 153, the man with brawn and no brain), but she clearly demonstrates her valuation of other characteristics in man: courage, bravery, honesty, pride and honor, qualities related to her opinion of a good American. However, none of her men quite emulate all, or even more than a few, of these qualities (Daddy issues anyone?).
Anyway, the next couple of weeks should be fun.
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