Farewell, Thalia's Daughters

"Now, let us take our leave of plots and story-telling, if you please..."
~Joanna Baillie's The Tryal

So we're down to our last class of Women Onstage in the Long 18th Century... it's been fun guys, thanks for a lot of good discussions (and digressions)! I look forward to our upcoming private theatrical, in which Brenna will play a hobo on a balcony.
Cheers!
~Kari

...I just realized that in my last post it sounds like Frances Burney had a sexual attraction to paper! That's not what I meant!

"I know not what I say!": Female Self-Censoring in Burney's "The Witlings"

Wow, nice hat you have there Fanny...








Reading Frances Burney's The Witlings (1779), I found myself thinking a lot about the idea of self-censorship and the fear of publicity among women. Barbara Darby's article "Censored Women: The Witlings" includes two interesting passages from Burney's letter to her sister following the eager reception of her novel Evelina:

“But pray for me, my dear Susy, that Heaven may spare me the Horror irrecoverable of personal abuse.—Let them Criticise, cut, slash, without mercy my Book,--& let them neglect me,--but may God avert my becoming a public Theme of Ridicule” (Early Journal and Letters, 3:163), and "I would a thousand Times rather forfeit my character as a Writer, than risk ridicule or censure as a Female" (ELJ, 3:212).

I definitely saw women's fears of hostile public reactions to their words and deeds as an important running theme of The Witlings. The obvious public humiliation is of course Lady Smatter's, who is punished with humiliation in front of the group, and warned about future public degradation by the spread of Censor's insulting verses. I was especially struck by Dabler's words, “we men do not suffer in the World by Lampoons as the poor Ladies do;--they, indeed, may be quite—quite ruined by them” (V.824-826). Indeed, Mrs. Voluble claims that "when one's own reputation is at stake" (V.503), any actions one takes to protect it are justfied... even betraying Mrs. Sapient.

Cecilia, on shaky ground after having lost her fortune and been encouraged to seek other "resources," seems fearful in everything she says, muttering, "I know not what I say!--I can talk no longer; pray excuse my incoherence" (III.590-591), and "...leave me to myself, I beseech you! I can neither speak or listen to you;--pray go,--pray--alas, I know not what I say!" (III.863-865). So shaken is she by her exclusion from her social circle, that she worries about committing words to speech and falling further in public estimation.

I came across a passage from Burney's diary which sounds oddly similar to Cecilia's words. In this case, Burney fears committing her opinions about sexual attraction to paper:

"Bless me--how I run on! foolish and ill-judged! ...mere giddiness, not inclination, I am sure penned it... but indeed I write so much at random, that it is much more a chance if I know what I am saying than if I do not." (The Early Diary of Frances Burney, 1768-1778, ed. Annie Raine Ellis, 2 vols. London, 1889, I. 10.)

There seems to be a lot of truth to Darby's assertion that Burney's theatrical world "where reputations and security are contingent on male authority" (Darby 40) has parallels to the reality of "the fateful suppression of her play" by her male guardians. Just as there are "no spaces of privacy or protection for the women in this play," it seems that not even a diary was private enough in this author's life.



Photo from the world premiere of The Witlings, Main Street Theatre, Houston, 1998.

Bluestocking babes

I seem to find romance novels on the internet wherever I go - I swear I'm not looking for them!


The Bluestockings live on today... in the form of "Zebra Regency Romance" heroines.












"Many romance novel heroines are bluestockings. Other members of society may look down on them for this decidedly unfashionable trait, but not the hero."
~Anne Mallory, romance novel writer

Holy Bluestockings, Batman

Who were the Bluestockings?

Wikipedia discusses the Bluestockings as a social and educational movement that came into being in England in the mid-18th century in imitation of a similar, more formal movement in France.

Reinventing the Feminine: Bluestocking Women Writers in 18th Century London examines the context for the social salon's development in 18th century London, the major players in the literary revolution, and examples of written works that sustained the movement from 1750 to 1790.

The Concise Cambridge History of English Literature, 3rd edition, says this:

"During the first half of the 18th century, English women had little education and even less intellectual status. The first attempt to create a circle in which intelligent conversation should take the place of cards or scandalous chatter was made by Mrs. Elizabeth Vesey (1715-91), in whose literary gatherings the term "blue stocking" gained currency. Benjamin Stillingfleet... though gifted and brilliant, was not, in appearance at least, respectable. Being invited by Mrs. Vesey to one of her "conversations," he excused himself as sartorially unfit. Upon which the lady exclaimed: "Don't mind the dress; come in your blue stockings" --i.e. in blue or grey worsted, the everyday wear, instead of black silk, the correct wear for assemblies. "Bluestocking" or "undress" parties became a kind of catchword, and gradually, in the ironic course of time, the phrase applied to a man became applied to the women he met at these assemblies. Mrs. Vesey originated the blue-stocking circles, but the "Queen of the Blues" was Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu...
The blue-stockings were sometimes ridiculous, but they must not be dismissed as unimportant. They did much to infuse a general interest in literature and they helped to make society more decent."

"Doctor Syntax with a Blue Stocking Beauty" by Thomas Rowlandson (1756–1827), from William Combe's The Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, In Search of a Wife, 1812.

"Breaking Up of the Blue Stocking Club," Thomas Rowlandson, 1815.

Rowlandson’s print reminds us that the newer image of women as passive “angels of the house” was not the only one carrying cultural currency; older images of women who were raucous and ready for a fight were still funny to audiences in 1815. The melee he depicts, however, in which bluestockings—a semi-contemptuous term for learned women —fight like fishwives and spill “French cream” (shorthand for their supposed interest in the French Revolution), is a far cry from the decorous bluestocking teas that Hannah More had attended decades earlier.

~From The New York Public Library' s "Before Victoria"

Parental Affection in Baillie's "The Tryal"

Hi guys, this week I'm blogging as well as presenting on The Tryal and not Count Basil or De Monfort, since we've been sticking to comedies thus far (and unfortunately there's only so much time at this time of year).

~ ~ ~ ~

We've been talking all term about how especially early eighteenth century drama tends to lack valid parental figures, a lot like an episode of Friends where you have a world run by a bunch of of sexy, well-dressed twenty-somethings with seemingly no family ties.

I find it fascinating how these later plays are starting to shift towards familial realism, towards the inclusion of a wider family sphere and not just young people in isolation. I was really struck by how both the opening and closing scenes of Joanna Baillie's The Tryal (1798) are ones of believable familial affection. I liked how the hero of the piece, Harwood, befriends the parent figure as well as the object of his affection: "her uncle comes this way. He look'd so kindly at her, I could not help loving him; he must be a good man, I'll make up to him" (I.I.143-145). I found Mr. Withrington a refreshing character... no Mr. Bennet, but a lot more realistic and likeable compared to many a father figure we've seen.

So when I read Catherine Burroughs' article "'A Reasonable Woman's Desire': The Private Theatrical and Joanna Baillie's The Tryal," I hadn't picked up on Burrough's argument that Withrington is ultimately a figure of patriarchal domination. Burroughs says that “Agnes abandons the trajectory of her original improvisation in order to devise another plot responsive to her uncle’s concerns” (Burroughs 196). True, but I don't think she would have agreed to the second trial if she herself hadn't agreed with her uncle's concerns. I disagreed with Burroughs that the second trial “can be seen as Withrington’s unnecessary interference in Agnes’s private improvisation” (Burroughs 198). I felt like it was necessary. If Harwood had married Agnes after the first trial, I would have felt really unsatisfied.

According to Burroughs, Withrington objects to the marriage of Agnes and Harwood and insists on the second trial because he questions “the degree to which Harwood’s masculine identity can be regarded as secure” (Burroughs 199). This isn't what I saw the purpose of the second trial to be. Rather than a lack of gendered manliness, I thought that it was a lack of basic nongendered human integrity that Withrington feared of Harwood.

I read the line, “If he loves you after this, his love is not worth the having” (5.1.91-92) to mean that her uncle worries that Harwood’s is an unhealthy love with no moral backbone. I saw this as a wise parental act, not a patriarchal power trip. In short, I didn't read the second trial as her uncle's insistence on taking away Agnes' agency, but an act truly “out of concern for her welfare” (Burroughs 196).

Thoughts? Was I the only one who didn't read patriarchal oppression and metatheatrics into the ending?

~ ~ ~ ~
A photo of the Pump Room in Bath!

Mr. Opal: "a vulgar looking devil... insisted upon going with us to the pump-room: men of fashion, you know, are always plagued with paltry fellows dangling after them." (I.II.109-111)

Oh... my... goodness

Ha ha, I just came across a website that sells etexts of Regency and Georgian Romance Novels!!! It's hilarious, there are such clever titles as "The Actress and the Rake," "Brighton Beauty," "The Improper Governess" and "The Parson's Pleasure." You can even read sample chapters. Ooo, and some of them involve time travel...

Hannah Cowley's "The Belle's Stratagem": 'Tis One Universal Masquerade

"...a picture of modern manners, with its colours derived from the present fashion, painted with the gaiety and sprightliness of the modern stile."
~Review of The Belle's Stratagem in The European Magazine, 1782

Reading Hannah Cowley’s The Belle’s Stratagem (1780), what fascinated me most about the play was its modernity. Yes, there are lots of familiar Restoration stock types and situations--names like "Touchwood" and "Courtall," masks and disguises, a plot to snare a man of the world, a plot to seduce an innocent married woman--but there are also so many moments where I felt like the conversations of the characters could have come from a nineteenth century novel. Take the talk at the beginning about how the unwed women are so eager to marry because so many young men are away fighting the Americans in the Revolutionary War. Or Doricourt's observations about the Frenchification of English fashion (1.3.36). Or the reference to ladies painting watercolours and sketching silhouettes in 3.1. It's delightfully modern--as in the Modern World rather than the Early Modern World.

In 2.1 for instance,

Miss Ogle: Sir George, I see, languishes for the charming society of a century and a half ago, when a grave squire and a still graver dame, surrounded by a sober family, formed a stiff group in a mouldy old house in the corner of a park.
Mrs. Racket: Delightful serenity! Undisturbed by any noise but the cawing of rooks and the quarterly rumbling of a friendly call from the parish apothecary or the curate's wife.

I find it so interesting the way these plays are gradually transitioning towards the nineteenth century world (hence my paper). I really like what Wallace says about the play as a "a gesture toward an early modern cosmopolitanism" (Wallace 416), and I've also been thinking more about Smallwood's "Women in the Theatre" from last week.

Smallwood talks about the "conservative nervousness about social imitation" in the second half of the 18^th century, when the middle classes consciously cultivated the social activities of the upper classes. Conservatively minded men, says Smallwood, expressed concern at the lack of social distinctions between women of different ranks which results from their united pursuit of fashion. Sir George definitely fits into this, with his outbursts "Formerly there were distinctions of character amongst ye" (2.I.206-207) and "A mere chaos, in which all distinction of rank is lost in ridiculous affectation of ease" (2.I.241-243). Indeed, the auction scene and the masquerade scene show women of different classes mixing, potentially indistinguishably, epitomizing what Smallwood calls "the rage for consumption."

R. Crompton Rhodes sums up my impression of the play really well: "Most of the situations are the 'dramatic commonplaces' of earlier authors, but the characters are of their own period" (Rhodes 131). He also gives some nice historical details about the setting: “the fashionable amusement of the era, a masquerade at the Pantheon. This splendid building in Oxford Street was lavishly decorated, [transformed into] a romantic paisage [...] with cascades, bowers, rocks, and cataracts… every niche filled with orange and myrtle” (134). Sounds a bit like Pope's grotto!

I'll end by touching on an important idea raised by Finberg about Letitia Hardy's ability to change herself. Since Letitia can fit seamlessly into any social role, "Cowley seems to be asking a very modern question: 'Is there true identity?'" (Finberg xlvii). I'm sure this kettle of fish will be discussed in class. Looking forward to it!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The photos are from (the editor of our anthology) Melinda C. Finberg's revival of The Belle's Stratagem at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in 2005.

Elizabeth Griffith: When Moralism Sells

"To glow with ardour and attempt with zeal
The reformation of the public weal
Is the high duty of the comic muse"
~The Times, 1779

...the high duty, or the highest paycheck?

First off, I was glad that I read Angela J. Smallwood’s “Women and the Theatre” first. It helped me to better grasp the circumstances under which Elizabeth Griffith and her contemporaries were writing. Smallwood explains that after the death of Susannah Centlivre--the last and most prolific writer of the Aphra Behn style of drama--new plays by women dwindled for a while before coming back with a new face: the face of gentility. Goodbye breeches parts...

In the second half of the eighteenth century, as theatre audiences grew increasingly middle class, there was an attempt to modify the Restoration association of the actress with the prostitute and to elevate the star actress in the role of the "refined heroine." The refinement of an actress’s performance could transcend the vulgarity of her class, i.e. James Boaden's comment that Miss Younge was “born to ornament a court” (Smallwood 249). (I find that so interesting, the idea of conflating the stage with the court. I wonder what Boaden would think if he could see today's celebrities... nowadays there is an even finer line between actors and royalty!) Attributes of proper feminine sensibility could make up for the fact that an actress was putting herself on public display, allowing certain star actresses to attain something close to social respectability in some circles of society.

Similarly, a play that upheld convention could make up for the fact that a woman had penned it. A social critique by a woman about the situation of women, though, was not likely to make it in the big business of the London theatre scene. I strongly agree with Smallwood that we have to look at later 18th women playwrights in the context of the constraints this environment imposed upon them.

Taking all this into account, I turned to Betty Rizzo's article "Depressa Resurgam: Elizabeth Griffith's Playwriting Career." I found it kind of odd... it relies heavily on biographical speculation--it compares Griffith's courtship letters to the 1001 tales of Sheherazade, of all things!--but what really troubled me was the article's seeming bias against Griffith as a writer. Rizzo implies that Griffith had no real literary talent, making her out to be a less likeable, eighteenth century version of Becky Sharp, ruthlessly pursuing financial success and making a great show with a handkerchief without actually shedding any tears. This article seems to be persuading me to not like Griffith, emphasizing the fact that she had no wit and couldn't structure a play to save her life, and making me sympathize with Garrick for having to put up with her incessant wheedling. When Garrick finally wrote, "I see your tears, and hear your sighs, which ever female craft supplies" (Rizzo 135), I was rooting for the poor man! Rizzo's opening statement that Griffith's importance "must be granted" (120) seems reluctant, and her closing paragraph, wherein she suggests that in Griffith "a splendid spokeswoman for women's rights was corrupted" (138), seems too little, too late.

I thought Brenna’s Wikipedia article did a much better job of presenting an unbiased picture of Griffith:
“From here her work became quite moralistic; for example, The Times is a warning against the dangers of gambling. But, though she had to package it differently in order to retain an audience, she never fully lost her focus on women’s issues, and her female characters are always the moral superiors of their male counterparts. Overall, her texts focus on a need for moral development – literature as didactic – and she tends to use her female characters as the barometer of moral correctness.”

This summary agrees that Griffith altered her work in order to retain an audience, but it still allows that Griffith maintained at least some "focus on women's issues." In my reading of The Times, I picked up on such a focus. In 3.1, for example:

Belford: "She is a fine young woman with a fine fortune."
Sir William: "And so may be sacrificed to some fine young man that may spend her fortune in finery, as her hopeful brother has done, and leave her a beggar."

Not only does Griffith bring up the idea of a woman sacrificing her identity in marriage, she's also, I think, quite funny. Rizzo would say that Griffith's comedy is interpolated and borrowed from other playwrights (Rizzo 121-122), but I don't think this gives Griffith enough credit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This engraving by Walker, which appeared in Johnson's Ladies New and Polite Pocket Memorandum for 1778, was based on Richard Samuel's original portrait of The Nine Living Muses of Great Britain. Griffith is the one in the bottom left corner.