American Roguery in Three Acts

This blog discusses the nineteenth-century narratives of Ann Carson, Henry Tufts, and Stephen Burroughs, a few of America's most creative criminals. These posts were written as a response to readings from each text as part of my class in Early American Literature called Counterfeiting in Early America, a graduate English class taught by Dan Williams in the fall of 2010 at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth, Texas.

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.

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