“Let not the lords of the creation accuse our sex of tattling, when they are so deficient in discretion” (Vol. II pg. 21). This sermon-like indictment against men for being so free of speech and gossip comes in the midst of Ann’s tale when she is staying at some sort of criminal headquarters under an assumed name. Of course she is going to complain that men are hypocrites when it comes to restraining their aptitude to talk and accuse others! Yet, Ann is certainly guilty of the crime of being “deficient in discretion.” Her narrative, more so than any other counterfeiter we have read this semester, is vindictive towards the supposed villains of the story. Her language frequently lacks this discretion and she gives full reign to her rhetorical ability to defame her enemies. Thus, she describes a landlady as “fat, vulgar, wapping” (Vol. I pg. 312) and Simon Snyder as “of a middle stature, hard features, thickly pox-marked, with a dark, austere, unbending brow, and a countenance that seemed as if it had never relaxed into a smile” (Vol. I pg. 361). Rather than claim that she offers forgiveness to her persecutors, like Burroughs and Tufts occasionally do, Ann paints the villains of her story with vivid colors of physical and moral baseness—she does not flower her tale with protestations that she acts out of any Christian desire to forgive those who have harmed her and secure her spiritual wholeness for the future. Instead, Ann is disparaging to most sects of Christianity as well. She insults Roman Catholics, and many of the Irish (though her husband is Irish) in one blow: “I should have fancied her conscience was like the greater part of the ignorant Irish of that persuasion, priest-ridden […]” (Vol. I pg. 327). When a woman visits her in prison, with the intention of converting Ann, Ann boldly proclaims that she will never forgive Snyder and that “‘I shall never be a Christian’ […] (In fact, I was too well acquainted with the hypocrisy of many professed Christians not to question their sincerity)” (Vol. I pg. 367). However, Ann does not entirely refuse to acknowledge a Christian God, rather she shies away from any form of religion. She even recruits God to her side when she asserts “it is only the forms of society I have by that act offended, and not the laws of God” (Vol. I pg. 284). For Ann, religion as a form of societal regulation and indication of open hypocrisy is always suspect (though she does accede that the Methodists are okay). However, though she retains some sense of reverence for God, her narrative seems to avoid trying to spiritually atone for her past actions. Unlike Burroughs or Tufts, Ann is not as concerned with justifying her decisions to a religious community (at least compared to the other counterfeiters we have read, I do believe that Ann at least participates in using religious rhetoric for her own purposes, typically dishonest ones at that). Nonetheless, at this point in our reading of Ann, she seems wary of associating with any form of established religion and instead stands out as independent of that form of community. Her preferred community, instead, is a household of thieves.
Dr. Williams’ handout, containing quotes from Cathy Davidson’s Revolution and the Word, seems particularly helpful in understanding why Ann includes so many proposals and romantic adventures—her narrative is an emulation of early American sentimental novels. As Davidson points out, these novels depicted female independence outside of matrimony and perhaps this is why Ann’s narrative features so many rejections of the marital fetters, which she associates with a loss of liberty and pain: “True, matrimonial fetters are said to be of roses, but if so, the flowers have long since fallen off, and only the thorns remain for me and mine” (Vol. II pg. 13). Sentimental fiction, Davidson notes, intimated ideas of freedom for women and the right of these women to reject or accept men: “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” (Handout pg. 3). Of course, Ann does not always make what we would term “shrewd” decisions, but the fact that she does exercise some control over which men she receives indicates that her position, even though obtained through falsehoods and daring criminal activities, is one in which she can utilize her liberty and gain some control over her own life. Her narrative, then, participates in this line of sentimental novels in that she also advocates a freedom for women to choose which men have influence in their lives.
Hi Katie, Wonderful post. You touch on several significant areas--AC's hypocrisy, her vindictive quality, her sentimental qualities, and her beliefs. We can discuss how she contradicts herself, which she does repeatedly. I am not sure it's as intentional as in Tufts and Burroughs, but possibly it's intended as more of the carnivalesque. And AC is definitely vindictive. She states this at least twice is unmistakeable terms. She wants to use her text to gain what she considers justice, and in doing so renders justice relative to whoever is in power--or who usurps power. I think MC clearly had sentimental novels in mind in her translation of AC's life. There's already a proven--and solvent--readership. I think AC--the narrator--makes a few expected references to God, especially in one of the later prison scenes, but you picked up on her dismissal of conventional theology. Great response. thanks. dw
ReplyDeleteKatie,
ReplyDeleteI really liked the points you made about Carson being vindictive. And I especially liked your points about Carson having some control over her life--I noted that too in my blog. Her tale seems to be a commentary on the lack of choices women had in this time. Did you notice that the woman who was married to a thief left him after finding out his true nature and supported herself by her needle? This portrait seems to be a foil of what Carson could have been and wasn't. This book is so fascinating! ~Larisa