September the Thirtieth Post

A Diagnosis for Fantomina: Is it Love or Monomania?

"TRAYTOR! (cry'd she,) as soon as she had read them, 'tis thus our fond, silly, believing Sex are serv'd when they put Faith in Man: So had I been deceiv'd and cheated, had I like the rest believ'd, and sat down mourning in Absence, and vainly waiting recover'd Tendernesses. -- How do some Women (continued she) make their Life a Hell, burning in fruitless Expectations, and dreaming out their Days in Hopes and Fears, then wake at last to all the Horror of Despair? -- But I have outwitted even the most Subtle of the deceiving Kind, and while he thinks to fool me, is himself only the beguiled Person.  . . .

INDEFATIGABLE in the Pursuit of whatsoever her Humour was bent upon, she had no sooner left her new-engag'd Emisssties, than she went in search of a House for the compleating of her Project." -- Fantomina, pages 59 and 62

"The self will only be convinced of its own worth by the faultless devotion of another. Jealous monomaniacs hold themselves and their victims to impossibly high standards. The severity with which the jaloux berates the alleged infidel explodes with the violence of a religious inquisition. Aggressive jealousy can be a great cover up for the self's actual loss of control. While a majority of forsaken individuals bear their fate stoically, monomaniacal lovers devise rigid strategies to trump their relationship's breakdown and make it look like somebody else's failure or weakness. These strategies, themselves powerful idée fixes, are terrific diversions against the intolerable act of waiting, of not knowing. A full-time operation, they involve setting up multiple tricks and traps to contain or confront the fugitive, great focal points that will end up deflecting energy from the self onto the other. Born out of anxiety, the acts of stalking or trailing, eavesdropping, or spying, end up alleviating restlessness and grant a sense of mission or purpose. So this detective work gives birth to an alternative world, an ordered universe that is structured and nourished by the very doubts that had undermined it. The dread of not knowing makes way for the desire to know something for sure." -- Zuylen, Monomania, PDF page 11

Whether or not Fantomina was actually in love with Beauplaisir has been a central argument in the analysis of her extreme motives in that text. The alternative, of course, is that she was obsessed. Obsessed with what, though? With Beauplaisir himself? Or was she addicted to the feeling of being desirous, new, and exciting? I would argue that it's a combination of the two. She was obsessed with feeling desirous to Beauplaisir specifically, chiefly because he was such a conquest. Time and time again, Fantomina proved the transience of male affection, and how little control she actually had over his "love." Thus, she devised several "tricks and traps" to bolster her own feelings of control and allure, in part in retaliation to the discovery of Beauplaisir's infidelity. In this case, the "impossibly high standards" that she holds herself and Beauplaisir to stem from her naive assumption that Beauplaisir would have had any lasting relationship with her under her initial guise of Fantomina. In that setting, social hierarchies and reputation were everything, and Beauplaisir would have been all too aware of the impractiability of continuing a relationship with an unheard of, mysterious girl in society, especially one who masqueraded [ if she wasn't lying about that, of course ] as a prostitute, the lowest of the low. Her disguises and traps became more and more intricate in proportion to how much she felt control slipping from her. 

Zuylen's description of monomania and the jealous lover immediately evoked the tale of Fantomina, and helpfully so: Fantomina could not be considered a love story by any means, so this definition of a fixation "in an otherwise sound mind" helps to pardon Fantomina's extreme behavior, and give credibility to Haywood. 

September the Twenty Third Post

Does The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless Correspond to Haywood's "Reflections on the Various Effects of Love"?

"''Tis strange,' said she to herself, 'that a woman cannot indulge herself in the liberty of conversing freely with a man, without being perswaded by him to do every thing he would have her.' . . . 'People,' cried she, 'have naturally an inclination to do what they are most forbid. The poor girl had a curiosity to hear herself addressed, and having no opportunity of gratifying that passion, but by admitting her lover at so odd a time and place, was indeed too much in his power to have withstood her ruin, even if she had been mistress of more courage and resolution than she was.' On meditating on the follies which women are sometimes prevailed upon to be guilty of . . ." Haywood, Miss Betsy Thoughtless, page 121

"When Love finds Entrance in a Mind, such as these Ladies were possest of, it becomes indeed a most vile and wicked Passion, and its Effects are dreadful to Earth, and detestable to Heaven, and when it takes Possession of a Heart all Gentleness and Softness, it then grows fatal to itself.-- Women shou'd, therefore, but with the utmost Caution entertain it; not all the Dictates of Religion, Reason, Virtue, Interest or Fame, being seldom of sufficient Force to combat with that more prevailing Tenderness, which seems inherent to the very Nature of her Sex: . . ." Haywood, "Reflections on the Various Effects of Love, page 121

The context of the above passage of Miss Betsy Thoughtless displays Betsy's reflections on her friend, Miss Forward's, recent troubles concerning the other sex. It is the outcome of this scenario, as well as inferences drawn from Haywood's Fantomina, that really connected these two quotes for me. The outcome for Fantomina and Miss Forward are the same in both situations: the men are able to get away with indecent behavior, while the women are found out because casual sex doesn't have the same repercussions for men as it does for women. Haywood repeatedly mentions that "how much greater Force that Passion influences the Minds of Women" ("Reflections," 115), and I believe that is what leads her to her ultimate conclusion on the last page that women should only entertain passion and love with the "utmost Caution." Of course, it is curious to note how closely linked passion and love are, though I would consider love and lust inspired passion to be quite different. Haywood mentions this earlier in her "Reflections," that when a man is found to fall for a woman "who boasts no other Merit than her Beauty," people are apt to "lay the Fault on Love" (109). Personally, I took this as the basest form of attraction, or what contemporary society would term as lust. It's interesting to see the differences in eighteenth century norms contrasted to the views of modern society, especially in terms of gender inequality. 

Though our class has not yet finished Betsy Thoughtless, I'm eager to read on and see how Betsy's love life and multiple suitors play out, especially in context to these other works that we have been exposed to. In addition to that, I wouldn't be opposed to reading more autobiographically on Haywood -- what was her own love life like, to inspire such situations? Did she believe in love? Or was she of the "third Sort," who "believe the Passion nothing but a Name, the Chimera of a distemper'd Imagination," on the grounds of having never felt it ("Reflections," 107)? I find it extremely appropriate that this quote mentions a "mental imbalance," especially in light of how far neuroscience has come. In the jargon of firing neurons and hormonal imbalance, it's fitting that love was described this way so early.    

September the Sixteenth Post

The Evolution of Etymology -- Curiosity as the Search for Sinful Knowledge?

"She still thought of it, however; and the longer she reflected on it, the greater was her Wonder, that Men some of whom she knew were accounted to have Wit, should have Tastes so very depraved. -- This excited a Curiosity in her to know in what Manner these Creatures were address'd:" -- Fantomina, page 41

"Curiosity is the mark of discontent, the sign of the pursuit of something beyond what you have. In ancient literary culture, curiosity betrays the desire to know and therefore to be more than you are . . . Early modern texts represent this desire as a passion that turns the inquirer into either a savior or a monster, for both trample the conventions of nature, culture, and society." -- Benedict, Curiosity, pages 2-3

In the opening lines of Fantomina, and especially in the context of last class's discussion on the etymology of the word "curious," it was exceptionally appropriate to see that the perverse doings of men excited a "curiosity" in the title character. Also relevant was the second reference to these men as "creatures," echoing Benedict's Introduction from Curiosity, in which he notes that "passion turns the inquirer into . . . a monster." Obviously, this interpretation is skewed from the inquirer as Fantomina to the men as objects of inquiry, but it would follow from early, god-fearing thought that all passion was sinful, and thus the men were transformed into monsters, as well. Besides, the depraved tastes of these men were a sort of curiosity in themselves -- this desire to know about the lower class women that Fantomina is sitting with at the start of the story. Related to that, sex and desire were commonly seen as animalistic or instinctual passions, uncontrollable like those of beasts, which links together curiosity with desire and its synonyms in interesting ways. Even more intriguing is Haywood's continued use of "curiosity" in context. She goes on to say that Fantomina was easily swayed by her whims and that her most recent was to "dress herself as near as she cou'd in the Fashion of those Women who make sale of their Favours, and set herself in the Way of being accosted as such a one, having at that Time no other Aim, than the Gratification of an innocent Curiosity" ( page 42 ). Again, the search for knowledge is associated with sin, as the women are characterized by their unfavorable profession. It's also worth noting that Haywood includes the adjective "innocent" to describe the "Curiosity," befitting of the connotation of the word in then contemporary times. Her readers would have rightly interpreted curiosity as immoral without the clarification.

Etymology has always been extremely thought provoking, and seeing its importance in the context of analyzing early literary texts just fuels my own curiosity to learn more about commonplace words and their origins. 

September the Ninth Post

Was Robinson Crusoe Right? Could Anyone in his Predicament have Accomplished the Same Things?

"So I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as Reason is the Substance and Original of the Mathematicks, so by stating and squaring every thing by Reason, and by making the most rational Judgment of things, every Man may be in time Master of every mechanick Art. I had never handled a Tool in my Life, and yet in time by Labour, Application, and Contrivance, I found at last that I wanted nothing but I could have made it, especially if I had had Tools; however, I made abundance of things, even without Tools, and some with no more Tools than an Adze and Hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way before, and that with infinite Labour." -- Robinson Crusoe, pages 50-1

"Man, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything. Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left of itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions." Francis Bacon, The Portable Enlightenment Reader, page 39

Immediately after I read Bacon's assertion, Crusoe's claim that any man could have built the same provisions and such that he had came to mind. Could one have, really? There's a basic premise of intelligence and familiarity that, I would suspect, needs to be established before anyone in Crusoe's position could have come close to creating what he did. An interesting point was brought up early on in our classroom that Crusoe's narrative before being marooned on the island served only to ascertain that Crusoe had had some worldly experience, if only to establish credibility for the tale. There seems to be some truth to this, if only to bolster Bacon's argument. Man as the servant and interpreter of nature, who can do and understand only so much as he has observed? Crusoe spent his life in middle class ease until forsaking a lax lifestyle and heading out to sea. From there, he spent considerable time on ships, as well as in ship related accidents: he had to flee a capsizing vessel, was captured by pirates, commandeered a boat to escape said pirates, and then had the fortune ( skill? ) to be the only survivor of a shipwreck. That seems to imply familiarity with ships and their fittings, as shown by how thoroughly he disemboweled the wreck when it washed up on the island's shore. Also, his time in Brasil certainly served him well when it came to planting and harvesting his crops. He had a successful plantation there that he had built from the ground up, which mirrored his inspiration: he had seen many other men accumulate wealth quickly through these plantations.
The one constant in Crusoe's life ( before fifteen plus years on the same island, performing a variation of the same routine each and every day ) is a desire for more, and for expansion. However, this seems to always lead to trouble for Crusoe: on an expedition to gather slaves to expand his and others' plantations, he is marooned in the first place. All of the tools that Crusoe builds are imitations of useful commodities from his past life, and he admits to being at a loss to inventing anything that he has not had prior experience with -- as well as he shouldn't, if Bacon is to be believed. Personally, I believe that Bacon's declaration is fully supported by Crusoe's actions -- Crusoe was able to give form to many inventions like wicker baskets and earthen pots on the island because he had had prior experience with such things. Another man in his place would not have fared so well, unless he had similar or otherwise applicable knowledge and experience.

September the Third Post

The Head or the Heart?

“Well, go said I; so the Boy jump’d into the Water, and taking a little Gun in one Hand swam to Shoar with the other Hand, and coming close to the Creature, put the Muzzle of the Piece to his Ear, and shot him into the Head again which dispatch’d him quite.” – Robinson Crusoe, 22

“As for the movements of our passions . . . it is . . . very clear that they do not depend on thought, because they often occur in spite of us. Consequently they can also occur in animals, even more violently than they do in human beings . . . I do not deny life to animals and I do not even deny sensation, insofar as it depends on a bodily organ.” Descartes, “Brain and Mind,” page 17

The passage when Xury kills the creature ( which I believe is a lion ) on the shore became particularly interesting to me after reading “Brain and Mind in the ‘Long’ Eighteenth Century,” especially after coming across Descartes’s views on the separation of thought and action, in both humans and animals. I found it significant that people once thought that Descartes regarded animals as “unfeeling automata,” and was pleased that this was apparently not the case; however, I found it curious that Xury shot the animal in the head, and not in the general area of the heart. It is interesting that Defoe understood that life primarily originated from the brain, and thus the head, so that even the character of an uneducated slave boy knew that to kill a living entity, it must be wounded in the head. This is especially compelling since Defoe’s own time frame puts the story in the same era as when Descartes published L’Homme.