Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Blithedale Romance
>
Blithedale Romance - Ch. 16 -22
date
newest »
newest »
Voyeur. Staple of romantic fiction. Classic instance in Turgenev's First Love (1860).
We are getting Cloverdale's version of the events that occurred, so he does not have all the facts, or he may misinterpret them. But even so, the four main characters do lack substance.
Earlier someone was asking about the allegory of the cave and I did not see it at the time but I think I can attempt it now. I do not think Hawthorne intended the following comparison at all, but the pictures on the walls of the saloon put me in mind of "images" which in turn put me in mind of Socrates' divided line and the Allegory of the Cave but in reverse. Coverdale travels down from the Ideal of Blithedale to a seashore hotel and finds truth by grounding himself in the visible world of objects and images before returning to Blithedale.The intelligible world of Forms, thoughts, and reason:
He refers to the ideals of Blithedale as the thoughts of a speculative man. Far from truth, the speculation only serves to drive the mysteries present there. From Blithedale, he must necessarily travel down to a lower elevation to reach the seashore.
Transition between the intelligible world and the physical world:
From the third story of his hotel, Coverdale talks of a strange, shadowy, timeless, abstract (like mathematics), and transitional stage between Blithedale and his current physical surroundings in at the hotel that seemed to rob the actual world of its solidity.
Objects in the Visible World:
All of the physical objects, which seem to have been constructed by man to imitate in various aspects of Blithedale seem lower still compared to his room. He then provides a long list of appearances of objects, the grass plots that were an "apology for a garden", ideal looking fruit trees supported by enriched and artificial fertalizers. He calls the warmth of the coal fire in his hotel room as, "an artificial temperature". Of course there is the young man who spends an half hour on his appearance, grooming himself and arranging his cravat. At one point he comments on the nooks and crannies where Nature appears:
. . .as a general rule, that there is far more of the picturesque, more truth to native and characteristic tendencies, and vastly greater suggestiveness in the back view of a residence, whether in town or country, than in its front. The latter is always artificial; it is meant for the world's eye, and is therefore a veil and a concealment. Realities keep in the rear, and put forward an advance guard of show and humbug.Images and Opinions
Finally, at the lowest elevation in the bar among the images of food: the beefsteak, the venison, the salmon, the ducks, the fine old cheese; the paintings of revelers and the sleeping drunk; and artificial drinks and the temporary images and opinions they create, he learns the truth from Old Moodie.
Thus illuminated he returns back up to Blithedale.
David wrote: "Earlier someone was asking about the allegory of the cave and I did not see it at the time but I think I can attempt it now. I do not think Hawthorne intended the following comparison at all, but t..."David,
I had asked about the cave and I'm so glad that you posted your observations. I am still digesting what you've written, and I really appreciate your reflections (lol-a pun). I do think that -how we perceive things-is a major element of Hawthorne's work. There are so many tiny references throughout.
Interestingly Plato and Hawthorne are discussed in a work on Amazon titled Nathaniel Hawthorne's Distortion of Puritan and Platonic Ideologies
Partial description:
"This thesis deals with Nathaniel Hawthor's irony towards Puritan beliefs and the Platonic philosophy.The first chapter deals with his "Night Sketches";it is used to demonstrate his distortion of Plato's allegory of the cave."
Transcendentalists were, in part, influenced by neo-Platonists, so it makes sense to me that they would include a nod to Plato in their works.
Holly
David wrote: "Earlier someone was asking about the allegory of the cave and I did not see it at the time but I think I can attempt it now. I do not think Hawthorne intended the following comparison at all, but t..."I think Hawthorne probably does intend the comparison, though I don't think he wants us to make a judgment based on it. He's making subtle fun of philosophers. The Transcendentalist movement took its name from Kant's ideas about transcendental idealism, and one of Kant's most famous sayings utilizes the image of the dove:
“The light dove, in free flight cutting through the air the resistance of which it feels, could get the idea that it could do even better in airless space. Likewise, Plato abandoned the world of the senses because it posed so many hindrances for the understanding, and dared to go beyond it on the wings of the ideas, in the empty space of pure understanding.” (Critique of Pure Reason)
I certainly can't prove it, but I think Coverdale's observations about the dove in Chapters 17 and 18 are probably related to this. It seems to me that Hawthorne's subtle allusions to Plato and idealism/transcendentalism are used more for humorous effect than to make a point. On the other hand, he couldn't have taken these schools of thinking very seriously if he used them that way.
I didn't see this coming. When Coverdale left at the start of chapter 16, I was sure it was only for a short time, as we have almost half the novel left to go. But at the end of chapter 22, I can't see him returning to Blithedale. I also question his motives in all this. Is he really concerned for others? – he seems to be when he asks Priscilla if she is going with Westervelt willingly – yet most of the time he seems like a gossip searching for interesting tidbits to bolster his side. We now seem to have a clear understanding of the relationship between Moodie, Zenobia and Priscilla. But what has Westervelt to do with the three of them? Is Coverdale right to despise him?
Everyman suggested last week that this is turning into a traditional gothic romance, and I think that is even more evident now. It began as a philosophical novel with gothic overtones, and seems to have become a gothic romance with some philosophical leanings.
It seems to me that the big question Hawthorne is trying to answer, concerns the rôle of observation, and we can truly trust what we see. I felt sure, as well, that the dove had some deeper significance, so thanks to Thomas for that quote from Kant.
And the cliffhanger at the end of chapter 22 raises so many questions. Who was responsible? Given the way Coverdale has set him up, suspicion immediately falls on Westervelt. But what if he was trying to protect Priscilla? I can't wait for the next chapters to find out more.
Perhaps any appearance of an inversion of Socrates' divided line is more likely a byproduct of my own Republic primed perceptions of Coverdale's frustration in his failure living up to the lofty ideals of a utopian society and wishing to ground himself once gain in the comforting "moral sillabubs" of the "swinish multitude." It is Interesting to connect Glaucon's calling the first city Socrates creates in Republic the "city of pigs" with Coverdale's anguish over the fate of the pigs at Blithedale as he was leaving.I would be interested to know if the thesis that Holly mentions specifically deals with anything from The Blithedale Romance.
At first I thought the lone dove simply represented Coverdale's unrequited love more than as a reference to anything of any philosophical significance. However, I can try a little harder and imagine it also represents certain philosophical ideals that flew over Coverdale and forced him to accept them as something forever outside his grasp but now haunts him on a desolate perch in his memory.
I found it interesting how Coverdale justifies his voyeurism and/or over interest (i.e. snoopiness) of others: "She (Zenobia) should have been able to appreciate that quality of intellect and the heart , which impelled me (often against my own will, and to the detriment of my own comfort) to live in other lives and to endeavor- by generous sympathies, by delicate intuitions........to learn the secret which was hidden even from themselves. Of all possible observers, methought, a woman, like Zenobia, and a man, like Hollingsworth, should have selected me. And now, when the event has long been past, I retain the same opinion of my fitness of the office.....". Perhaps Hawthorne recognized this quality in himself as well and applied a bit of ironic humor of such via Coverdale's stream of thoughts.
The question I find myself asking when I read Hawthorne is whether he recognizes his own hubris and is mocking it, or is he just walking in and on in total self assurance.
Sue wrote: "And now, when the event has long been past, I retain the same opinion off my fitness of the office.....". Perhaps Hawthorne recognized this quality in himself as well and applied a bit of ironic humor of such via Coverdale's stream of thoughts. "Coverdale seems to continue to delude himself with ideals he does not possess and assumes, in his own opinion, the role of a worthy confessor. Is he the worthy confessor he thinks he is?
The Library of Congress lists the form/genre of this book as psychological fiction. I am impressed with how well the narrative lives up to the description and I am curious how much of the psychological motivations Hawthorne provides his characters is through observation alone and how much is from personal experience.
Psychological fiction. - Fiction in which the thoughts, feelings, and motivations of the characters are of equal or greater interest than the external action of the narrative. Narrower Term: Stream of consciousness fiction.
David wrote: "Psychological fiction. - Fiction in which the thoughts, feelings, and motivations of the characters are of equal or greater interest than the external action of the narrative. Narrower Term: Stream of consciousness fiction."We tend to think of Stream of consciousness fiction rather differently today; it is difficult to conceive as Hawthorne as the ancestor to Joyce. But maybe he is in a way. After all, all the action takes place in Coverdale's mind, even if it follows a more conventional plot.
Lily wrote: "The question I find myself asking when I read Hawthorne is whether he recognizes his own hubris and is mocking it, or is he just walking in and on in total self assurance."Is is Hawthorne you are speaking of, or Coverdale?
David wrote: "Coverdale seems to continue to delude himself with ideals he does not possess and assumes, in his own opinion, the role of a worthy confessor. Is he the worthy confessor he thinks he is?"I think his delusion is the cornerstone of the novel, so I would say of course not. As Hollingsworth is to Blithedale, so Coverdale is to the story he is crafting -- they are both victims of their own grandiose and solipsistic visions of Truth and Beauty. The community Hollingsworth wants to create is really a testament to himself, not the community, and Coverdale's narration is similarly a product of his own self-centered perspective. "Psychological fiction" is a perfect name for what Hawthorne is doing here. Nice find!
The coruscating rapids of the language used by the Coverdale/Hawthorne tale-teller propel the reader down a murky narrative stream. Names of major characters form and dissolve in fleeting emanations of mist. Floating twigs and leaves of meaning prove definable only in their particular moments. The only real coherence is the surface of the unfathomable water. The primary scene of anomie is the entangled trackless waste of natural landscape. Yet Eden/Arcadia gone bad can be traded for dread's other favored domain, the endless shadowed doorways and halls of Babylon. Elegiac sentiment pervades the world of the wandering lost. Abandon those conventions of realism, all ye who take a ticket to raft through this tunnel of trickery.
Thomas wrote: "Is is Hawthorne you are speaking of, or Coverdale? ..."Both, with the emphasis on Hawthorne and understanding his relationship to the characters he creates.
Aleph wrote: "The coruscating rapids of the language used by the Coverdale/Hawthorne tale-teller propel the reader down a murky narrative stream. Names of major characters form and dissolve in fleeting emanation..."Thou waxes poetic! Does the material really stand up to the transmutation? E.g., I got a bit lost on your intended reference for "the endless shadowed doorways and halls of Babylon..." Are we in some sense talking about the dispersion of the Jews in Biblical days? Or some other aspect of Babylon's complicated historical role.
Aleph wrote: "The coruscating rapids of the language used by the Coverdale/Hawthorne tale-teller propel the reader down a murky narrative stream. Names of major characters form and dissolve in fleeting emanation..."Nice description of what seems appropriate for a story drawn from memories acknowledged to be imperfect. Coverdale describes his memories this way:
. . .as I rake away the ashes from the embers in my memory, and blow them up with a sigh, for lack of more inspiring breath. Vividly for an instant, but anon, with the dimmest gleam, and with just as little fervency for my heart as for my finger-ends! The staunch oaken logs were long ago burnt out. Their genial glow must be represented, if at all, by the merest phosphoric glimmer, like that which exudes, rather than shines, from damp fragments of decayed trees, deluding the benighted wanderer through a forest.
David wrote: "Coverdale travels down from the Ideal of Blithedale to a seashore hotel and finds truth by grounding himself in the visible world of objects and images before returning to Blithedale."Very interesting thought. But, will he return to Blithedale? Or will he remain in the cave forever, eschewing the light as something less satisfactory than he had believed it would be?
David wrote: "We now seem to have a clear understanding of the relationship between Moodie, Zenobia and Priscilla. But what has Westervelt to do with the three of them? "A question I have, too.
And, I wonder how Coverdale knows the history of Fauntleroy, Zenobia, and Priscilla? He knew none of this up to Chapter 21. How is it that he now knows it all?
Will we find out in the final chapters? I realize that the whole work is a retrospective, that he can at the time of writing know things he didn't know as they happened, but I'm curious how all this history came to be known to him. Will we find out in the final chapters? If so, he will need to have more interaction with these parties, particularly Moodie (unless Moodie has passed his history on to Zenobia or Priscilla and they on to Coverdale). At the moment, it's a loose end; will be interesting to see whether/how Hawthorne ties it up.
Everyman wrote: "Very interesting thought. But, will he return to Blithedale? Or will he remain in the cave forever, eschewing the light as something less satisfactory than he had believed it would be?"I can't see him returning to Blithedale. Having not yet read beyond Chapter 22, I have no idea how things will develop. But Priscilla's disappearance at the end of Chapter 22 suggests to me that Coverdale will be more concerned in tracking her down, and will only return to Blithedale if that trail leads him there.
I'm as surprised as anyone. The book is called The Blithedale Romance, and yet we seem to have left Blithedale half way through the book.
Everyman wrote: "David wrote: "We now seem to have a clear understanding of the relationship between Moodie, Zenobia and Priscilla. But what has Westervelt to do with the three of them? "A question I have, too.
..."
I believe Moodie himself relates the tale to Coverdale as they lunch in the saloon.
Everyman wrote: "I wonder how Coverdale knows the history of Fauntleroy, Zenobia, and Priscilla? He knew none of this up to Chapter 21. How is it that he now knows it all?"I think all Coverdale knows is what he managed to tease out of Moodie in the previous chapter. With that in mind, I read Chapter 22 as a summary of Moodie's revelations, filled out with a good deal of conjecture on Coverdale's part. It may turn out to be no more than his fanciful imaginings, and very far from the truth.
Lily – The two primal spaces of horror movies are the disorienting outdoor wilderness and the menacing enclosure of built human structure. Some of both in Wrong Turn (2003) or Incident On and Off a Mountain Road (2005). Starting from that notion and filching parallels from Genesis 1-11. So pre-Jewish, unless you want to look onward from Shem. Interesting fact: in Hebrew Babel = Babylon. Same word.
Aleph wrote: "Lily – The two primal spaces of horror movies are the disorienting outdoor wilderness and the menacing enclosure of built human structure. Some of both in Wrong Turn (2003) or Incident On and Off a..."Thanks, Aleph. Fun stuff. When you get to current (horror) movies, you are outside my realm of ready relating and interpreting. A bit on the memes that can be assumed in a conversation?
Lily – Ha. You want something more classic. Fair enough. Wilderness: frozen wastes of the north in Frankenstein (1818). Enclosure: castle in Castle of Otranto (1764).
Aleph wrote: "Lily – Ha. You want something more classic. Fair enough. Wilderness: frozen wastes of the north in Frankenstein (1818). Enclosure: castle in Castle of Otranto (1764)."There is nothing new under the sun.
David wrote: "Aleph wrote: "Lily – Ha. You want something more classic. Fair enough. Wilderness: frozen wastes of the north in Frankenstein (1818). Enclosure: castle in Castle of Otranto (1764)."There is nothi..."
Except the ways the old is used and combined? And marketed/sold...maybe...digitally/materially...
I recalled some Bertrand Russel that I believe may be relevant to a few of thse chapters.Mankind is divided into two classes: those who, being artificial, praise nature, and those who, being natural, praise art. The praise of nature, in which our age abounds, is not itself natural: it is a reaction against too much artificiality. As a reaction, it has its uses; as a theory of life, it won't do. . .Are some of Coverdale's expressions comparing the artificial to the natural upon his return to town consistent with Russell's sentiments? If so, does some of Coverdale's melancholy come from his being unwilling to fully accept these sentiments, or is he simply sad and disappointed that he has already has?
. . .All civilisation, especially on its aesthetic side, is artificial. Manners, good speech, good writing, good music, good dancing – everything that gives grace to life depends, not upon the denial of natural impulses, but upon training them to express themselves in ways that are delightful rather than in ways that are crude.
Russell, Bertrand. "In Praise of Artificiality." Mortals and Others: Bertrand Russell's American Essays, 1931-1935. London: Routledge, 1996. Kindle Edition.
David wrote: "I recalled some Bertrand Russel that I believe may be relevant to a few of thse chapters.Mankind is divided into two classes: those who, being artificial, praise nature, and those who, being natura..."Russell's classes seem a bit over-generalized to me, at least when applied to Coverdale, who doesn't seem to have enough self-awareness to be either natural or artificial. It's hard to say what kind of man Coverdale is, now that I think about it. He seems sort of insubstantial to me.
Despite this, Coverdale seems to think that he can see beneath the artifice to the nature of things. He wants to expose others without being exposed himself, so he watches from a safe distance. Does this make him artificial, or just a bit cowardly and self-deluded? (I think this is where his melancholy comes from. He seems to be a rather lonely man.)
Thomas wrote: "I think this is where his melancholy comes from. He seems to be a rather lonely man."I agree, his loneliness, which he only discusses indirectly by appending "bachelor" to the description of his rooms, apartments, and parlor; calling himself a frosty bachelor with another white hair, is more profound than he is letting on. I think this oblique statement of feeling "cheated" as a bachelor was very telling.
A bachelor always feels himself defrauded, when he knows or suspects that any woman of his acquaintance has given herself away. Otherwise, the matter could have been no concern of mine. It was purely speculative, for I should not, under any circumstances, have fallen in love with Zenobia."Should" is a psychologically heavy word. I want to know why he thinks he should not have fallen in love with Zenobia.
There has been some discussion of whether or not Coverdale is a reliable narrator. When it comes to his feelings of lonliness he is not reliable. While he does slip a few times, 6 so far, his obvious ability in poetically describing many other things makes the leaving out of certain personal feelings conspicuously purposeful. Unexplained loneliness does indeed seem to have smudged his rose colored glasses.
Thomas wrote: "It's hard to say what kind of man Coverdale is, now that I think about it. He seems sort of insubstantial to me. "I get what you mean, but to me it's not so much insubstantial as it is without any fixity of purpose or character. Zenobia, I think it was, mentioned several times his being a poet, and I think perhaps she meant by that somewhat not quite of the normal world.
I am thinking the events in the story would not differ significantly, so far, if Coverdale had not been present. The emotional impact I think is greater being told through his filters, but as far as events go, Coverdale is not much of a mover or a shaker.
David – I think you may have fastened on the wrong nuance of should. See http://www.grammar.cl/english/should.htm. You seem to have in mind #1 (correct thing to do). I take Hawthorne to express #2 (a situation not likely in the past).
Aleph wrote: "David – I think you may have fastened on the wrong nuance of should. See http://www.grammar.cl/english/should.htm. You seem to have in mind #1 (correct thing to do). I take Hawthorne to express #2 ..."Yes, I agree. That use of should is somewhat archaic; a modern writer would almost have certainly said would not, no should not. But we're reading 150 year old English, and there are differences!
I knew "should" would be trouble! :)It was purely speculative, for I should not, under any circumstances, have fallen in love with Zenobia.
I am still thinking about the other suggested usage of "should" and I do see it. However, Coverdale seems to have been under some strange self-imposed "obligation" to not fall in love with Zenobia. This sense is what gives the "should" the "must" quality I picked up on that makes me ask why not? Even if he stated, "I remember thinking to myself at the time that I will not fall in love with Zenobia under any circumstances", I would want to know, why not?
I do not get the sense that he was ever in love with Zenobia. I recall he criticized her dismissively on more than one occasion. At one point I was reminded of the Seinfeld episode about the "man hands". Was that his reason he should not have fallen in love with Zenobia?
David wrote: "Even if he stated, "I remember thinking to myself at the time that I will not fall in love with Zenobia under any circumstances", I would want to know, why not?..."I thought it was because he sensed Zenobia would not reciprocate his love. It was obvious she didn't take him seriously. She needled him about his imaginative flights of fancy, referring to him as a poet. I took that to mean she viewed him as someone who was not grounded in reality--as a sort of weak dreamer.
Coverdale may not be a reliable narrator but he had enough sense to know a person like Zenobia would never be attracted to a person like him. Plus, it was obvious she was attracted to Hollingsworth--someone with a great deal more substance. So he made a calculated decision not to fall for her.
What I kept asking myself reading these chapters, where is Hawthorne going with this? At first we had this humorous narration of the idealism and then life on the farm began in earnest, and now what??? Are we dealing just with a rich-man playing around but nothing concrete ever emerges? Not really being serious with anything, including people that are just being observed but not really presented as true life and flesh human beings? This has become a tedious read.
Kerstin wrote: "This has become a tedious read. ."I wouldn't go that far, but I'm not finding it gripping reading. Coverdale simply holds no interest for me; I don't really care what he thinks or what happens to him. I'm disappointed in the minimal amount of transcendentalism in it, which had been my primary interest in the book.
I'm hoping others will be able to offer more insights that will show the book as more than a mediocre novel.
An interesting aspect of Coverdale's personality is revealed as he looks out the window at the "general sameness" of the dwelling across the way and for some strange reason is annoyed by the families who live there. “It seemed hardly worth while for more than one of those families to be in existence...” When he is told by a waiter that one of the dwellings is a "rather stylish boarding house," his opinion changes and he declares, "I bless God for these good folks! I have not seen a prettier bit of nature, in all my summer in the country...."
Coverdale thinks of himself as a detached observer in search of the truth. Is he? Is his peeping on Zenobia and Priscilla defensible? What do you make of their encounter?
Old Moodie re-enters the picture as Fauntleroy, and Coverdale recreates his story in much the same way he recreates Zenobia’s story of the Silvery Veil. It seems very stylized: images of vanishing, phantoms, shallowness and lack of substance run throughout. Does Coverdale have an agenda, or is he just doing the job of a poet?