Jan 24: Fowles I

John Fowles' late twentieth century perspective exposes the unjust oppression of women during the Golden Age.  Both men and women of this patriarchal society believed that the proper place for proper ladies was the background.  Women were made available for creating a more pleasant atmosphere, but rarely for anything more substantive.  Deviating from this social norm was unacceptable.  Indeed, when Ernestina tells Charles of Sarah, she describes her as "a little mad" (12).
    In the second chapter, Ernestina seems to deviate slightly from the Victorian norm.  She chastises Charles' joke and says "And you will keep your low humor for the club" (12).  However, her playful irony and feigned confidence serves only to define her place in society.  By teasing Charles for his humor, she rejects the frankness and honesty that should accompany their relationship.  She also acknowledges the impropriety of Charles' jest in light of the very social standards which oppress her.  In all of Ernestina and Charles' interactions, Ernestina only deviates from the "seen, but not heard" mantra slightly, signifying that she succumbs to the pressures of society. She tries to attain the upper hand over Charles, but he wonders "whether Ernestina would ever really understand him as well as he understood her (15).
    The conformity expected of women in the Victorian era is not merely superficial.  The far-reaching effects of such expectations changes the way women think about themselves.  This unfortunate effect is illustrated when Ernestina is in her room and sees part of her bed in the mirror, triggering sexual thoughts.  Women in the Victorian era were required to repress such sexual desires.  Ernestina accomplishes this by creating "a kind of private commandment" which was simply "I must not" (29).  This commandment does much more than simply quelling the passions of the flesh.  By repeating it often, Ernestina denies her sexuality and creates a contradiction in her life: that she wishes to be loved, but rejects the supposed brutality of copulation.
    Sarah is the only female who longs to be free and recognizes the unjust social structures that surround her.  However, she is not able to escape from those who try to restrict her because of her class and gender.  Many suitors reject her because of her class, and men of her own class find her too progressive for their taste.  She both openly expresses he dissatisfaction with society and, consequently, expresses her power over it when she thinks about jumping out the window after Mrs. Poulteney forbids her to go to the Ware Commons.  Oppression drove Sarah to comtemplate suicide.  However, she did not jump and "continued, in spite of the express prohibition, to haunt Ware Commons" (82).  This shirking of rules and expectations is what sets Sarah apart from the other women seen in this novel thus far.  

Jan 30: Fowles II

For the Victorians, history is like a collection of individual sentences, and each punctuation mark is seen as some sort of meteorite which violently ends a period of time and forces another to begin.  Each time period is a complete thought, with new ideas, standards, and opinions, and a haughty disregard for the "less developed" sentences of the past.  This perception influences the way people think and interact with the world and each other.  In The French Lieutenant's Woman, characters are averse to, and cannot manage, change. 
    Ernestina exemplifies this attitude toward time.  Ernestina's distaste for the Elizabethan style of Winsyatt shows that she disregards other periods, instead of having respect for them.  But, more importantly, Ernestina's understanding of time provides little room for change, except for the changing of the periods themselves.  In her interaction with Charles, this attitude is clearly displayed.  After Charles tells Ernestina that he has lost his inheritance as a result of his uncle marrying, she outbursts in frustration and anger.  She does not know how to accept change.  Even Charles himself never expected the simple possibility that his monetary situation could change drastically in a short period of time. 
    Charles, however, slowly redefines time for himself and escapes his contemporaries' historical view of time.  His occupation, paleontology, provides him a glimpse into the past, but a past that persists.  He acknowledges the influence and importance of the past and doesn't isolate himself in history.  Darwin is, of course, Charles's primary inspiration for his new attitude toward history.  Although he previously considered himself a Darwinist, the seed of Darwin's implications is planted in Charles when he talks with Dr. Grogan.  However, at first, Charles seems not to understand the implications of Darwin, since he should "have been humbled by the great new truths they were discussing" (132). Nevertheless, the Doctor makes the important point to Charles that the Origin of Species is "about the living, Smithson, not the dead" (131). 
    Throughout the next chapters, humility enters Charles's idea of time.  After his meetings with Sarah, he realizes that she lives above the Victorian period and does not succumb to its demands like Ernestina does.  He questions his engagement to Ernestina because her narrow view of history prevents her from truly understanding Charles.  Charles's epiphany occurs after he gets a note from Sarah: "he saw that all life was parallel: that evolution was not vertical, ascending to perfection, but horizontal.  Time was a great fallacy; existence was without history, was always now (165).  He understands that time is not a passive journey of progress.  Charles realizes that he "was more than an ammonite stranded in a drought, that he could strike out against the dark clouds that enveloped him" (167).  Charles finally fully understands that he must act independently of time and not expect time to be creative in itself.   
    Despite Charles's progress toward a new outlook on time, Sam seems to already have this outlook.  Sam favors change because he wants ascend the social latter.  After considering the prospect of black mailing Charles, "his eyes stared into the future," looking for opportunities (170).  He sees himself as independent of history.  Time, for Sam, does not allow for vast social progress, but progress of each individual.  Sam is certainly part of a new class who defies Victorian social structures. 

Feb 7: Evolution 2

    Since I must attend rehearsals in an hour, I do not have enough time to explain a decent theory suggesting the existence of a creator God, let alone formulate one altogether. Because its not that easy. I think most intelligent design proponents forget that understanding and arguing a theory for intelligent design is extremely difficult.  The argument requires much more than throwing around the words “complex” and “fine tuning” and topping it off with a few exclamation marks (ahem, John Studebaker). Asher Price summarizes the intelligent design argument as “If evolution did occur, it was guided by a higher power, not the result of random mutation and natural selection” (66). Such overly simplistic explanations are evidence of naivety and even pride.  To say that God’s creation is simply impossible to explain without citing His hand at every step along the way discounts the human dignity and reason central to Christianity.  Whether man was created by God or by a collection of universal laws, man should still be able to understand creation since he is a part of it.  
    The biggest problem with the intelligent design designers is their foray into education. Intelligent design and creationism DO NOT belong in a scientific classroom simply because these ideas are not science.  By the philosophy of science, a scientific idea must meet two requirements: 1) it must be about the physical universe, and 2) it must be falsifiable. The second requirement is especially important because it means that science cannot prove anything to be true and provides a certain level of leeway for theories to develop.  The intelligent design theory is not science because it is not falsifiable.  No observations can be made which disprove the theory since the theory would have to transcend the scope of human understanding.  Creation itself does not transcend man, and can be approached scientifically. However, the idea of “God” and the act of “creating” by definition certainly does transcend man’s material nature. 
    Overall, I feel that the intelligent design argument was poorly represented in our journal readings.  The truth is, many of the better arguments exist but do not suggest that intelligent design should be taught in the classroom and, as a result, don’t receive attention from the media.  Catholics, for example, embrace the theory of evolution as a fascinating understanding of creation.  As far as I know, Cardinal Christoph Schonborn’s belief, “Evolution in the sense of common ancestry might be true, but evolution in the neo-Darwinian sense – an unguided, unplanned process of random variation and natural selection – is not” is not supported by the majority of Catholics (69).  Dr. Kenneth Miller provided a more appropriate Catholic response by saying evolution “can fall within God’s providential plan” (70).  The creationists could better make their case by realizing that Christianity is not presupposed.  They seem to take the argument too far and talk about communicating “Jesus Christ to non-believers” (62).  In no way does the evolution debate center around “Christ’s love,” and I think it’s about time that these particularly enthusiastic Christians understood that. 
 

Feb 21: Fowles IV

     A good novel describes the transformation of its characters.  In “The French Lieutenant’s Woman,” the transformation is conspicuously restricted to one character—Charles.  The other characters—Sarah, Ernestina, and Mrs. Poulteney, to name a few—remain stagnant throughout the story, causing the spotlight to shine exclusively on Charles.  This format for the novel reflects the Victorian period it is set in.  The seemingly static nature of the period is a result of a domino effect of cultural reactions, but, as the next domino in the row, is intrinsically unstable.  The Middle Ages provided a stable set-up, which, once knocked over, resulted in the Renaissance period.  This reaction to the feudal system and the rejection of the material world manifested itself as a revival of Classical ideas and humanism.  A side effect of these new cultural attitudes was a disturbance in the stable social structure of Medieval Europe.  Suddenly, the social classes were blurred and a certain level of economic mobility liberated the lower classes.
    The Victorian reaction to Renaissance ideas disguised itself as an appreciation of “proper” society.  However, the Victorian endorsement of strict social norms and a fatuous obsession with duty was disingenuous at best.  The social requirements were merely means of stratifying the classes once again.  The upper class men imposed a circular system of values, which were created to venerate the upper class itself.  However, despite the façade of propriety in Victorian society, an undermining force existed within the upwardly aspiring lower class and the morally licentious upper class.  This undermining force was often naively unseen or intentionally ignored, especially by the middle class who relied on their stable position in society.  The stability that Victorians desired is reflected in the stagnant characters of “The French Lieutenant’s Woman.”  They reject the disruptive ideas of skepticism and individualism. Victorians represent a desire to hold since their class structures and social standards are meant to be immutable.
Charles shows evidence of skepticism for Victorian values from the beginning of the novel.  It made him sad to think, “he was too pampered, too spoiled by civilization, ever to inhabit nature again” (60).  Charles realized that society was merely a façade for a deeper truth.  The dynamism of nature intrigues Charles because it is so different from the steady Victorian culture. Charles’s transformation involves the realization “that the desire to hold and the desire to enjoy are mutually exclusive” (60), a truth that separates him from his contemporaries.
At first, Charles is drawn to nature, but approaches it in an impersonal way.  As a paleontologist, he frequently shirks his responsibilities to explore Lyme for fossils of ammonites.  His walks among the cliffs are comforting, but burdened by the bulky clothes his class is required to wear.  He is unable to be completely immersed in nature like Sarah, who sleeps in the woods and whose hair is loose and wild.  Not being able to approach nature intimately, Charles uses the naturalistic model of Darwinism to define his worldview and attempts to make change itself an immutable principle of nature. After proclaiming their support of Darwinism, Charles and Dr. Grogan feel “intellectual distance above the rest of their fellow creatures” (132).  Charles’s early attitude towards nature reflects a desire to hold.  He tries to apply strict definitions to nature, but only ends up distancing himself from it.  Charles’s Darwinist beliefs are not directly meaningful to him because they are too grand to apply to his real life.
Sarah becomes Charles’s transforming principle.  She represents an intimacy with nature that he rarely approaches.  She is unfettered by societal norms and is able to apply a personal meaning to nature.  Most significantly, she places great importance on her own emotions.  This emphasis on personal emotions is unique among the Victorians who proscribe the expression of such emotions.  This power of Sarah is so intense that when Charles grabs her hand, “the moment overcame the age” (199).  This rare display of emotion is what causes Charles to temporarily transcend Victorianism.  Unlike his belief in Darwinism, his expression of emotions is personally meaningful to him on a much more influential scale.  Sarah is able to show Charles the meaningfulness of human emotion.  
When Charles travels at the end of the novel, he finally undergoes a complete transformation.  He has a “great vision of himself freed from his age, his ancestry and class and country” (335).  This vision is accompanied by evidence of his new way of perceiving the world around him. Charles’s “only attempt to express his deeper self was in the way of verse” (334).  Instead of subscribing to Darwin’s theories, he reads Tennyson’s poems.  These much more personal passages help Charles consider ideas that are more applicable to his immediate life. Although the ideas of Darwinism are grand, they are scarcely important to the soul of an individual.  When Charles is in America, and he discovers some deeper aspects of human character, “he was no longer bored” (341).

Mar 21: Gawain

Letter to the Translator: 

Dear Mr. Winny,

I understand that middle english is difficult to directly translate into modern english.  But, when presented with the line "And oft both blysse and blunder" (2), why would you make your life more difficult and translate it to "And often joy and turmoil" (3)?  I'll give you a break and overlook the unfortunate lack of alliteration in your interpretation of the line.  But, what I can not forgive is the blatant disregard of the important connotations of the words "blysse and blunder"  (translated "bliss and blunder," if you do not have a middle-to-modern english dictionary at hand).  While "bliss" and "joy" are very similar, the former suggests an excessive, almost blinding, degree of the latter.  "Bliss" implies a lack of restraint and, therefore, human weakness.  "Blunder" and "turmoil" are completely incompatible.  "Blunder" is a downfall caused by a stupid mistake, while "turmoil" is a state of confusion.

The problem with "joy and turmoil" becomes even clearer when placed contextually:  "And often joy and turmoil / Have alternated since" (3).  This sentence suggests a circular causal relationship between the two words.  However, I rarely see joyfulness as a precursor of doomed confusion.  Interestingly enough, "bliss and blunder" do seem to shift back and forth, just as the Gawain poet suggests.  A society's excessive and unrestrained joy brings about naivety, distraction, and confusion, which can induce a stupid mistake and cause a downfall.  After such a blunder, the society can only ascend once again to a blissful state, completing one cycle of bliss-and-blunder.

Your instance of translational ingenuity might seem trifling, but is, in fact, most inexcusable.  In the first stanza of Gawain, the poet recalls the rise and fall of civilizations.  This theme of rise and fall, which encapsulates bliss and blunder, remains an important theme throughout the story.  In light of this theme, the bliss of Arthur’s court has a much darker tone.  The poet describes the blissful men as “Luckiest under heaven, / King of loftiest mind / Hard it would be / Bolder men to find” (5).  This description reflects the court’s dangerous naïve and prideful attitude.  The people “were then in the flower of youth” and were not experienced enough to be so boastful.  Their lack of experience is evident when the Green Knight bursts into the dining hall during the Christmas feast. The court is shocked, and “For long there was only staring at the man” (15).  Unlike the green knight who stands cool and held together in unfamiliar surroundings, the men and women at the feast are fearful and paralyzed.  While no one can blame these people for such a reaction, their excess and bliss left them vulnerable to blunder when they should have been prepared.   

Another extension of the bliss and blunder theme exposes the insidious nature of excessive praise.  At the green knight’s castle, Gawain tells the people of the castle who he is.  The men of the castle quickly begin praising Gawain as “the man to whom all excellence and valour belong” and “whose fame exceeds any other person’s on earth” (51).  The people of the castle inflate Gawain’s ego so that it will be easier to make him fall.  They consider him to be a paragon of chivalry so that any small unknightly deed will be deemed much worse.

So you see, Mr. Winny, your small mistranslation overlooked an important theme in Gawain.  I suggest you fix this issue in future editions.

Sincerely,
Brian Dillon

Apr 18: Jane Eyre II

 In this journal, I try to compare John Berger’s description of femininity to the Jane’s unique model of such.  Although this is accomplished with little compositional elegance, I think the reader can still garner a sense of how Jane overcomes the social standard and represents a new model of femininity.  

    John Berger in Ways of Seeing points out that "the social presence of a woman is different in kind from that of a man" (Berger, 45).  Essentially, women are viewed as objects for men to exert dominance over.  This duality of roles is clearly illustrated in the social arena of Jane Eyre.  However, Jane ascends these social conventions and even assumes a masculine social presence at times. Jane embodies a new model for femininity that recognizes femininity as a balancing force for masculinity and a measure by which man should assess himself.  
    Berger’s study of standard gender roles observes paintings as examples of inherent differences in how men and women are viewed by, and view themselves in, society. In paintings, male figures represent external ideas such as power, dominance, or physicality. In the viewer/figure relationship, the figure of a man is always dominant.  However, the representation of a woman in art establishes her very presence as an object to behold and exert power over.  Women are typically painted with the male viewer in mind and appear sensual, passive, and subservient.  This representation is especially apparent in the nude paintings of the Renaissance.  Berger summarizes his assessment of these roles by claiming, “Men look at women.  Women watch themselves being looked at” (Berger 47).  While men actively judge and assess women based on their beauty, morality, and/or purity, women view themselves in light of man’s gaze. Women can only see themselves as reflections of masculine assessment.
    Jane does not fit Berger’s model of femininity.  She continuously and actively judges and assesses others, a masculine quality, and resists being viewed.  I’ll address the latter quality first.  In chapter 17, when Rochester requests her presence at a party, Jane awaits the party-hour “with some trepidation” (193).  In contrast to Adéle’s elaborate attire, Jane dresses simply and “quickly”, her “sole ornament, the pearl brooch” (193).  She eagerly uses a separate entrance to the drawing-room to avoid attention, and remains hidden for most of the party.  Unlike women such as Blanche, Jane’s identity is neither created nor affected by the way men see her.  She is assured of her plainness and does not base her self-image on external assessments.  Jane does not seek attention at the party because such attention would be superficial and objectifying.  She exercises an untypical resistance to being on display.
    Jane’s enjoys her ability to “gaze without being observed,” evidence of the former, masculine quality listed above (198).  Berger points out, “Men survey women before treating them” (Berger, 46).   Likewise, Jane looks at the other party-goers and has “an acute pleasure in looking, - a precious, yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony” (198).  She assumes the man’s role as viewer, which implies a sense of dominance and identity.  However, unlike Berger’s description of a man’s gaze, Jane does not assess others by her perceived level of dominance over them.  Instead, she assesses the personality and morality of her subjects.  Jane redefines the feminine role by becoming an outside objective viewer of both men and women.  From this vantage point, she can assess others without the masculine bias toward physicality or the feminine preoccupation with being surveyed.  It is perhaps for this reason that Rochester later dresses as a gypsy woman in order to look into the hearts of his female friends.
    When Jane returns to Gateshead upon learning of her cousin John’s death, she assesses and judges her cousins from a gender-removed point of view.  She emphasizes Eliza’s cold personality and lack of compassion, describing her greeting as “delivered in a short, abrupt voice, without a smile” (257).  Despite Eliza’s plan to become a nun, Jane views her religious asceticism as self-centered and devoid of compassion.  Georgiana is materialistic and lazy.  Jane also notes her excessive and unrestrained emotions.  Jane’s assessments of her cousins reveal that she expects women to have certain qualities such as compassion, kindness, humility, and temperament.  These qualities are significantly distinct from the typical male-defined feminine ideals of purity, chastity, and beauty.  The feminine ideals that Jane define emphasize woman’s important place in society as a standard for man to measure himself by.  
    Some might point out the imperfections in Jane's personality that detract from her position as a "model of femininity".  However, we must recognize that Jane Eyre is not intended to demonstrate a model for women to internalize, but to demand a new view of women that must necessarily emanate from external sources, particularly men.  The fragility of the typical "model of femininity" is avoided in Jane Eyre, which requires men to change rather than women to aspire to unrealistic and intrinsically inhuman ideals.  Jane's imperfections do not diminish the model because   
    In fact, Jane's imperfections make her an even more appropriate model for men to acknowledge women by.  The standard feminine ideal of perfection and purity, imposed by a male society, denies women their subjectivity and identity.  Although these standards imbue women with a form of power, they ultimately reduce the woman to an object to be judged and assessed by men.  To fully acknowledge Jane's model of femininity we must praise her independence in making mistakes and her ability to assess herself.

Apr 25: Jane Eyre III

    The Victorian age was marked by a tug of war between the social effects of and philosophical implications behind the height of the industrial revolution, and tacit nostalgia for the social and moral code of the Medieval period.  Unfortunately, these historical mile-markers are inherently incompatible, and the Victorian’ attempts to assimilate the two pervert the Medieval code and deny the social implications of the industrial revolution.  Jane Eyre examines this struggle and describes the rationale for the Romantic’s revival of Medieval ideals, but also points out a potentially fortuitous integration of industrial-age social structures. 
    The emergence of industrial economics revolutionized the lingering feudal class-hierarchy.  A new emphasis on materialism converted the origin of class-structures from the divine to measurements of wealth, and transformed class distinctions from intrinsic characteristics into entirely external labels for economic strata.  Nonetheless, Victorians attempted to retain a semblance of medieval class distinctions.  For example, after learning of the Rivers’ upper class origins, Jane recognizes superiority in Mary and Diana’s appearance, manners, and intelligence.  These marks of class refer to particularly upper-class characteristics but not to measurements of wealth, since the Rivers’ “had some years ago lost a great deal of money” (384).  However, instances of a post-industrial revolution class system also exist in Jane Eyre.  When Jane first arrives at Marsh End, the Rivers assess her appearance and situation and consider her a lower-class beggar.  Their initial assessment does not take into account her disposition, which is “not indicative of vulgarity or degradation” (380).  By subscribing to two separate standards of class distinction, Victorians developed a confusing set of values by which they judged people.  This confusion had affected Jane while living at Gateshead, Thornfield, and Marsh End.  She always feels like the orphaned child, looked down on for her poverty and dependence, but inwardly aware of her inherited high class.  This case illustrates how some Victorians used their confused class system to manipulate their level of control over others.  In the Medieval period, such power was not quite so arbitrary, since class distinctions were clearly defined and generally unquestioned. 
    The industrial revolution was a result of the Age of Reason, a philosophical revolution marked by society’s appreciation of human reason.  However, many Victorians practiced a Medieval faith, centered on spiritual pursuits and instructed entirely by revelation, rather than reason.  St. John is a good example of this religious disposition. He decided to become a missionary after an episode of doubting his humble and inactive job as a minister. St. John said that God gave him an “errand” for which “the best qualifications of soldier, statesman, and orator, were all needed” (405).  St. John’s motivation, devoid of compassion, is entirely self-glorifying and provides an escape from industrial society.  He is at his most anti-humanistic when he proclaims, “I am not going out under human guidance, subject to the defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow-worms: my king, my lawgiver, my captain, is the All-perfect” (447).  This blatant rejection of human reason illustrates St. John’s self-removal from a post-industrial society and exposes the conflicting philosophies of the Victorians’ version of Medieval religion and the humanistic implications of the Industrial Age. 
    Jane avoids the Victorian social and philosophical conflicts by adopting the philosophy of Romanticism.  While commonly considered a return to Medievalism, Romanticism more specifically adopts medieval ideals within a humanistic context.  For example, she idealizes medieval virtues such as refinement, compassion, and intelligence.  However, she does not adopt the typical Medieval class-structure and prefers to assess people based on these virtues alone.  Jane also integrates the medieval emphasis on nature and the supernatural with industrial-age humanism.  Preventing her from yielding to St. John’s influences, Jane experiences an “inexpressible feeling” and hears a voice cry, “Jane! Jane! Jane!” (466, 467).  These stylistically medieval supernatural occurrences are Jane’s own emotions preventing her from following St. John, not necessarily direct revelations from a divine source.  Jane’s ability to follow her inner voice shows a anti-medieval trust of her reasoning faculties.  This instance of Romanticism shows an integration of medievalism and the new, industrial European society.