#1: Behn & Defoe
I found it interesting that the “Epistle Dedicatory” of Oroonoko and the Preface to Moll Flanders both served as a justification for their respective stories. When I read the explanatory notes from Moll Flanders, I found out that because of religious beliefs during this time, reading fiction was not part of living a pious life. The reason for this was that fiction often portrayed characters engaging in vices, which people believed would lead others to follow that example. As such, Behn and Defoe had to provide reasons for why it was okay to read their stories, most importantly that the reader can learn virtue from the vice within it. Behn points out that every person is a combination of both, and if she were to leave out vice for the sake of virtue, she would not be telling the whole truth. She takes a stance on this, saying that she has laid out all of the facts and she is going to “let the Critical Reader judge as he pleases” (para. 511). Similarly, Defoe views the story of Moll Flanders as a cautionary tale, stating “All the Exploits of this Lady of Fame, in her Depredations upon Mankind stand as so many warnings to honest People to beware of them” (pg. 5). This reasoning allowed the public to feel comfortable engaging with these texts because they would not be committing sinful acts, but rather they’d be working towards a more righteous being.
#2: What did authors think they were doing when they wrote a novel?
I think the authors of early novels probably wrote with the intention of entertaining an audience, even though they might not have admitted that this was the case. At the very beginning of Behn’s “Oroonoko,” the narrator describes what this story is, saying “I do not pretend, in giving you the History of this ROYAL SLAVE, to entertain my Reader with the Adventures of a feign’d Hero, whose Life and Fortunes Fancy may manage at the Poet’s Pleasure […].” (para. 129) In this line, Behn simultaneously recognizes that the story she is about to tell may be entertaining while also noting that this is not her goal in telling this story. She continues this thought by reminding the reader that “Oroonoko” is a true story that she witnessed herself. Behn definitely seems to be masking her true intentions because there is a significant amount of drama for a piece of text that isn’t meant to amuse the reader. I think authors of novels were trying to create a form of entertainment that would be taken more seriously than other forms, such as plays or poetry. Since entertainment at the time was seen as a distraction and wasn’t valued as highly as we value it today, authors of novels couldn’t be up front about why they wrote their stories, so they had to find other ways of making their work acceptable to read.
#3: Oroonoko by Aphra Behn
As I was finishing Oroonoko, I definitely felt like this was a work of fiction despite Behn’s claims of truth during the “Epistle Dedicatory” and the beginning of the story. There were a few sections that stood out as particularly unrealistic, but I think the most notable is when Oroonoko finds out Imoinda is a slave to the same master. It’s almost impossible not to wonder about the likelihood of two people becoming slaves by different means and at separate times, yet still somehow finding each other in the same place. Even the characters wondered about “what strange Fate had brought them again together” (para. 173) when they reunited on the plantation. In reality, I feel like this situation, though it could have happened, would be unlikely, especially considering everything that these characters, if they were real, had already endured. The story almost has a Romeo and Juliet quality to it as well, with star-crossed lovers meeting a tragic end, and I think it is very possible that Behn could have been inspired by Shakespeare’s work, seeing as his plays were written before her time and she was a playwright herself.
#4: What are the formal qualities of the novel that make it different from other genres?
I think there are a lot of qualities that differentiate the novel from other genres, and we’ve definitely discussed many of them in class. From a structural perspective, novels are lengthier texts that are written primarily in prose. The purpose of this is to give an author more space to develop their ideas which, depending on the story, could be harder to accomplish through a poem or a play. This leads me to think about the content within novels, which are fictional stories that have a realistic plot and character development. Because the author isn’t bound by the constraints of poetry or plays, they can write a story where a considerable amount of time passes, allowing events to occur in a way that is truer to life and characters to have personalities that shift naturally in response. A characteristic that we haven’t really talked about is the fact that, as the name suggests, every novel presents the reader with something new. This can be seen in texts like Oroonoko and Moll Flanders which both effectively blur the line between reality and fiction with the story they tell. In modern novels, texts may be similar in their plots and explored themes, but the stories always differ in some way depending on what the author wants the reader to focus on and learn. I think it’s this innovation and newness from one text to the next that truly distinguishes the novel from other genres.
#5: Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe
In this section of the reading, I found it interesting that Moll devotes so much time and space to talk about her pregnancy resulting from her Lancashire husband. Throughout the entirety of the novel, Moll hardly brings up her children, and usually just mentions a count of them in passing. As such, I found it odd that she would go to such great lengths to describe the events that occurred during this particular pregnancy and what happened after she gave birth to the child. I think there are two possible reasons for including this story in Moll’s account. On one hand, I think Defoe may have just been leaning into the drama of the whole affair: Moll was pregnant by a husband she married despite knowing that another man had already promised himself to her, so she wouldn’t have been able to keep the child and marry the man who made the initial offer. In terms of the storyline though, it seems like this was one of the only children Moll actually cared about because when it came time to decide what to do with the baby, she lamented that “it touch’s my Heart so forcibly to think of Parting entirely with the Child, and for ought I knew, of having it murther’d, or starv’d by Neglect and Ill-usage” (145). Unlike her other children, she didn’t really have a say in where this child would go when she gave it up, and it troubled her to not have that control, which she seems to crave so much.
#6: Importance of Fact vs. Fiction in Novels
In early discussions of the two novels we’ve read so far, the question of whether they are fact or fiction played a critical role, especially considering both authors explicitly state that they are relaying true stories. Additionally, we further questioned if we should believe these authors’ claims to truth since the events within the stories seemed outlandish to the time periods they took place in. Regardless of the answers to either of these questions, the fact remains that these novels would still teach valuable lessons to the readers of that era, and I think that was the point. This is most readily apparent in Moll Flanders anytime Moll breaks from her story to address the reader directly. In fact, towards the end of this novel, the story’s intentions are laid out openly when Moll says “…the publishing this Account of my Life, is for the sake of the just Moral of every part of it, and for Instruction, Caution, Warning, and Improvement to every Reader…” (Defoe 272). Defoe instructs the reader, for instance, on how not to be taken advantage of, as Moll is skilled at holding her own. Still, he warns the reader not to emulate Moll’s risky behaviors. By referring to this overtly through Moll, Defoe signals that this is important, so important that he breaks the flow of storytelling time and time again to express this to the reader. With that in mind, it seems irrelevant to ask if a specific account is based on a true story. A more important question is does it matter for a story to be true if the author’s message is received by the reader, and I’m of the mindset that it doesn’t.
#7: Richardson and Doody on Pamela
While I was reading the excerpts from Pamela, I was initially caught off guard by how different Pamela is from Moll Flanders. Whereas Moll could hardly have been considered a virtuous woman, Pamela readily demonstrates these qualities because it is an important part of who she was raised to be. Since Pamela’s family lives in poverty, virtue is incredibly important to her parents, even going so far as to advise her that she should “arm herself…for the worst, and resolve to lose [her] life sooner than [her] virtue” (Richardson 9). At first, this seemed like really harsh advice coming from Pamela’s parents, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized there were a few reasons for it. The first is that because of religious and societal pressures at the time, extramarital sex had the potential to ruin the reputations of both individuals, but Pamela, since she is a woman, would have suffered much harsher social consequences. Also, there’s the concern of an unwanted pregnancy, which would have caused a great deal of hardship to a family living in poverty. So, even though this advice came off as rather threatening to me, I think it was more or less a reminder of the consequences Pamela could avoid by maintaining her virtue.
#8: Anti-Pamela by Eliza Haywood
As I was reading Anti-Pamela, I was struck by how similar Syrena’s story is to Moll’s. Both women grew up having mothers that weren’t known for good reputations (though Syrena’s was present in her childhood where Moll’s wasn’t), they held jobs as seamstresses and then servants, and while in their servitude, they had gentlemen vying for their affection which they manipulated for their own purposes. These characters are very much in control of their lives despite the submissive behaviors that they act out around others. In Anti-Pamela, when Mr. L essentially took Syrena hostage in her coach and asked if she could “refuse a Man [she] lov’d,” Syrena “feigned to be in a great Confusion – trembled – set [her] Breasts a heaving – and in a faultering Voice cry’d, I don’t know what you call Love, Sir, – but I am sure I could refuse giving up my Virtue to one that I would give my Life to oblige in any thing else” (106). Syrena, like Moll, knows what she wants and how to get it, so they act innocently when their intentions are anything but.
#9: Shamela by Henry Fielding
Even though Anti-Pamela and Shamela were similar in plot, Shamela served more as the context to Pamela rather than just a retelling from a different angle. Towards the end of Shamela, it’s revealed that Pamela came to be because Shamela’s husband “resolved to have a Book made about him and [her]” but that Shamala’s “Name is to be altered” because “the first Syllabub hath too comical a Sound” (273). What this suggests to the reader is that the story told in Shamela should be taken as the truth rather than Pamela since the former would have been a first-hand account. I think it’s really interesting overall how Pamela received so much critique, and I think it speaks to what readers were interested in and what they thought was believable. From a historical perspective, it would be easy to think that Pamela, since the title character was so virtuous, would have been more aligned to the standards of that period as opposed to Moll Flanders and that would have made Pamela even more successful. However, Haywood’s and Fielding’s responses show that the public wasn’t convinced that a completely morally sound young girl existed. There’s also something to be said regarding the popularity of these two critiques which rivaled the popularity of the novel they were parodying.
#10: Hawkesworth and Whitehead
After reading these two critical essays about the novel as a form, Hawkesworth’s essay stood out to me the most. He attempted to quantify literary enjoyment by comparing an array of genres and eventually came to the conclusion that novels are the least entertaining because they contain realism. I feel like this assessment isn’t really relevant to how enjoyable a novel is because realism, while it can be mundane at times, can also allow the reader to relate to a story that they may not have the life experience to fully understand. Hawkesworth even seems to refute his own argument that realism is what makes a novel a dull literary form. He says, about stories of Genii and Fairies which were “generally pleasing” to him that “the action of the story proceeds with regularity, the persons act upon rational principles, and such events take place as may naturally be expected” (154). These factors seem to constitute realism, even if the topic of writing is based on fantasy. This suggests that only certain types of realism actually make a text amusing to read and that there is a point where too much realism diminishes the entertainment value of the writing.
#11: Cumberland and Repton
We’ve been discussing critical interpretations of novels for the last few weeks, and something I’ve come to realize is that critics in the 18th century are just as opinionated as their modern counterparts. Cumberland and Repton are a fantastic example of this. In Cumberland’s essay, he presents “Clarissa” by Samuel Richardson as being morally superior to “Tom Jones” by Henry Fielding and parents should forbid their children, especially their daughters, from reading the latter. Repton is the total opposite, suggesting that “Clarissa” is not the moral guideline that Cumberland claims it to be, and that “Tom Jones” has more merits as a novel. I don’t think there is a right answer since people approach a text with different beliefs, worldviews, perspectives, etc. What I do think is important to discuss is that these authors felt the need to interpret these two texts and, even more so, that they felt like they could share their interpretations with the public. Before novels, many of the stories people read were either factual accounts, as in travel memoirs and biographies, or they were religious texts. In any of these scenarios, people didn’t really dispute or argue about the contents of what they read because they believed the texts were true, so the fact that early novels were critiqued shows how people were beginning to question an author’s intent behind their work.
#12: The Governess by Sarah Fielding
Out of all the novels we’ve read so far this semester, I feel like The Governess is the most different. Whereas in other novels, a prologue or epistolary document might tell the reader what they should learn from their reading, The Governess also does this, but it also blatantly states its lessons throughout the book. In turn, this novel is easily digestible and understandable, which is probably because, as noted in the introductory letter, whole point of the book is “to cultivate an early Inclination to Benevolence, and a Love of Virtue, in the Minds of young Women[…]” (45). I think the choice to explicitly tell the reader what they should and shouldn’t gain from the stories told in the novel speaks to how much the author trusted her audience as we discussed in class. For example, after the story about the Giants, Mrs. Teachum tells Jenny that she needs to make it clear to the other girls that they should not focus on the enjoyment of a fairytale, but rather they should understand the symbolic meanings of fairytale elements. I think this is interesting because it demonstrates Fielding’s self-awareness, ie. knowing prior to publishing that people may not fully understand the reason for including fairytales in her novel. It may also point to Fielding’s lack of trust in her readers since she believed strongly enough in them missing the point that she had to directly reference her goals through the text.
#13: Discussion Starter
See Discussion Starter page
#14: Evelina by Frances Burney
Unlike some of the other characters we’ve seen, I feel like Evelina’s character has the most depth. Her personality seems to buck against the idea that people were prim and proper back then, which is similar to Moll Flanders or the Anti-Pamelas, but Evelina has a realness to her whereas the others feel like caricatures. This quality allows her to transcend time, and I feel like it’s fairly easy to relate to her and understand her actions. For example, at her second assembly, in the scene where she gets harassed by Sir Clement Willoughby after she refuses to dance with him, Evelina gets totally overwhelmed and embarrassed by the commotion she didn’t intend to cause. She stutters while trying to explain herself before saying “Overpowered by all that had passed, I had not strength to make my mortifying explanation;—my spirits quite failed me, and I burst into tears” (49). Her reaction to the preceding events are definitely dramatic, but seeing as she was never taught proper assembly etiquette, it’s understandable. I know if I was in her shoes, I would probably act similarly, and I think some women throughout history would feel the same. Overall, she’s the only character we’ve read about whose personality I don’t question.
#15: Evelina as a Cautionary Tale for Women
For a while, we’ve been talking about the lessons readers are supposed to learn from novels, especially in regards to women’s conduct and morals. I think this discussion is really interesting when it comes to Evelina because it is the first novel we’ve read that is explicitly referred to as satirical and comedic, but there seem to be some serious lessons to take away. Someone mentioned on Tuesday how it felt like Evelina was constantly involved in a worst case scenario, which I totally agree with, and this made me think about what Burney’s intentions were for doing this. My prevailing theory is that Evelina acts as a sort of commentary on how it is nearly impossible for a young woman to avoid the worst that could happen to her, even when she is trying her best. Time and time again, we see Evelina met with the prospect of going out and getting involved in something that she really doesn’t want to do. Despite her best efforts to stay home, she usually gets ignored and/or scolded and is then forced to go as a result of some contrived obligation. There’s an underlying message that a woman should not enter “the world,” aka London, unless she is able to handle herself perfectly in society. Also, considering how Burney makes fun of certain members of that society, she’s almost telling her reader that it really isn’t worth all the trouble to make a place for yourself in that world.
#16: Social Faux Pas in Evelina
Although there have been several events throughout this novel that are hard to understand from our modern viewpoint, I noticed that it was particularly challenging to pick up on any unacceptable social behaviors in this section. The biggest example of this was the letter exchange between Evelina and Lord Orville. Upon reading these letters and before learning the aftermath of them, I thought they were fairly innocent. In Evelina’s letter, she was simply apologizing for how her relations used her name to use Lord Orville’s chariot, and in return, Lord Orville basically told her he was happy to do so, no matter the circumstance. I would have thought nothing of this exchange except Evelina immediately regretted her letter because she thought she’d be perceived as vain and Lord Orville’s letter totally turned Evelina’s good opinion of him. This was definitely the most surprising thing that happened in this section simply because I had no prior frame of reference for how someone was supposed to behave in this situation.
#17: Differences of Instruction in Novels
With Evelina, as was the case with The Governess, we’ve spent quite a bit of time talking about the lessons that readers were supposed to learn from novels. Thinking about the lessons themselves, they are fairly similar with the focus being on girls and young women to behave in ways that maintain their virtue in order to live happily. However, the methods for conveying these lessons are markedly different depending on the audience. In The Governess, for example, since it was intended for a child audience, certain lessons were told in a direct, straightforward manner, but there were also opportunities for the reader to interpret lessons for themselves. This model is comparable to an effective modern teaching style in which the teacher shows their students how to complete a specific task, then aids students as they work through a similar task before finally sending students to do this work independently. In contrast, Evelina’s lessons are more ambiguous, and depending on how much you’ve read, they can almost shift. For example, in a previous reading log, I talked about how I thought Evelina might be a cautionary tale that warned women not to enter into society because no matter what they do, they’ll never be able to avoid worst-case scenarios. As I continue reading, though, the overarching message seems to be shifting into something like if you try your best to be good and always resist temptation, you will be perfectly fine in society. This could be a hasty conclusion to make since we haven’t finished the book, but at this point, it seems like Evelina will marry Lord Orville which feels like it could be a possible reward for her goodness throughout the novel.
#18: Evelina’s Newfound Confidence
Evelina’s demeanor in this last section stood in stark contrast to her behavior throughout the rest of the novel. Until this section, I would’ve described Evelina as a soft-spoken girl who stumbles awkwardly through social interactions due to her naivety. She never spoke unless spoken to, and when she did, she either kept her responses brief or she stammered through the conversation. This all changed when she was finally accepted by her biological father, and the transition seemed extremely sudden. Albeit, she was definitely more comfortable in society towards the end, but when her father acknowledged her, she became much more confident in herself and gained a sense of true agency. This really struck me when, the morning after Evelina was engaged to Lord Orville, Lady Louisa asked if she wanted to walk in the garden. Evelina wrote, “There seemed something so little-minded in this sudden change of conduct, that, from an involuntary emotion of contempt, I thanked her, with a coldness like her own, and declined her offer” (380). Her behavior shocked me because Evelina had never been so openly arrogant before and it almost seemed like it was purely the result of being suddenly known as the daughter of a Lord.
#19: Initial thoughts about what makes British novels “British”
When I started thinking about the initial question for this unit, I came up with a few potential answers. At first, I thought maybe British novels had to be written by British authors or take place in Britain. I think the author connection could definitely be relevant since all of our readings have been written or edited by British authors, and the setting may be important since our readings have either partially or wholly taken place in Britain. Another element that I feel holds some weight is an idea that we discussed briefly with Evelina, namely the belief that London was “the world.” It seems like British superiority is a very common thread in the novels we’ve already read, and a perfect example of this is Captain Mirvan’s disdain for Madame Duval and Monsieur DuBois simply because they were French. This air of superiority will also occur in Translation of the Letters of a Hindoo Rajah. Particularly in this novel, there are some religious connections to British pride, with Hamilton describing Christianity in her “Preliminary Dissertation” as “the milder spirit” that “converted into the tenderest indulgence” (70). Knowing Britain’s less than savory past concerning colonization, I highly doubt this was the case. There’s also a great deal of other language in this dissertation that minimizes the accomplishments of those who practice the Hindu faith, almost as if Hamilton was belittling them. I’m unsure at this point if she truly feels this way since the back cover does indicate that British politics and imperialism are major topics in this novel, but this is definitely something I’m going to watch out for. Overall, I think British novels may be neatly summarized as a novel that conveys deeply rooted nationalism, either through characters or the authors themselves.
