Performances of Womanhood in the Eighteenth-Century English Theatre and Novel
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1 PERFORMANCES OF WOMANHOOD IN THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLISH THEATRE AND NOVEL A dissertation presented by Tabitha Kenlon to The Department of English In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the field of English Northeastern University Boston, Massachusetts April 2014 2 PERFORMANCES OF WOMANHOOD IN THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLISH THEATRE AND NOVEL by Tabitha Kenlon ABSTRACT OF DISSERTATION Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English in the College of Social Sciences and Humanities of Northeastern University April 2014 3 ABSTRACT Traditional literary criticism typically divides genres into discrete spheres, erecting barriers between plays and novels that are not entirely historically accurate. This dissertation argues that in eighteenth-century England, the walls between theatre, novels, and conduct manuals were permeable to the point of being irrelevant, as writers participated in a three-part conversation about the social performance of gender roles. I examine the construction of the female ideal on Shakespeare’s stage and in eighteenth-century English theatre, conduct manuals, and novels, establishing performance as a common practice linking the centuries and mediums. The casting of boy actors in women’s roles on Shakespeare’s stage, I contend, created a system of gender identification by presenting simultaneous depictions of transgression and propriety, which was recognizable well into the eighteenth century. Novels and conduct manuals borrowed performative techniques from the stage to imbue their female characters with a similar dual nature and ability to engage in respectable rebellion. 4 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The fact that many of my acknowledgements are likely typical of any extended project makes them no less meaningful. My mother, Marilee, who taught me to read before I started school, shared with me her love of imagination and of learning. The only excuse my dad, Ed, accepted for staying up past bedtime was “Daddy, I’m writing!” My siblings Seth and Joanna have been supportive throughout my academic pursuits, and my youngest brother, William, who is three years away from his own doctorate, has been a huckleberry friend and a true compatriot. My friends, both near and far, have borne the tumult of the last six years with patience and optimism. Amy Cox has the grace of a saint and the spirit of a pioneer. Sarah “Samuel!” Marsh provides baked goods and chutpah at precisely the right moment. Joyce Yin and Ileana Schinder are my chicas toujours. My dissertation committee encouraged and challenged me. Elizabeth Maddock Dillon introduced me to performance studies and helped me find, shape, and foreground an argument. I left conversations with her feeling smarter and invigorated. Nicole Aljoe ordered me to read Persuasion and took me out for hot chocolate, gifts I can never repay. Her abiding love for literature reminded me why I was doing what I was doing. Erika Boeckeler (who has impeccable taste in tea) provided detailed comments and was forgiving when I was unable to address them all. If I ever write a book about Shakespeare, it will be because of her. Michael Booth, a visiting instructor, generously let me shadow him on two Shakespeare 5 classes, teaching me about teaching and displaying a dizzying speed with iambic pentameter. My office mates Art Zillereuro and Sarah Connell, with whom I jokingly formed the Curmudgeon Club, are in fact two of the kindest and most generous people I know, as well as being modest but intimidatingly gifted scholars. Throughout this final semester, weekly pizza lunches with Sarah have sustained me. Our concerns rarely became maudlin, as Sarah’s unstoppable sense of humor and determination consoled and cajoled me (the British chocolate helped, too). Now for the more unusual acknowledgements. As I began my doctoral studies, my eyesight worsened, and it became necessary for me to read texts electronically. Even in this digital age, the amount of printed material that is accessible to the blind or visually impaired is staggeringly small; the number of critical or specialized texts that exist electronically is even lower. The greatest struggle of my degree program was in some ways not the preliminary exams, the field statements, the comprehensive exams, the language exams, the dissertation, or the defense. Rather, it was getting the books I needed to do all of those things. I did not receive all the books on my reading lists for my comprehensive exams. I was registered with the campus Disability Resource Center (DRC), which contacted publishers on my behalf. Many publishers never responded to requests for electronic files. Others claimed that they didn’t have electronic files, even for books published three years ago. It felt like discrimination and censorship. Fortunately, I received a scholarship that allowed me to purchase e-books and hard copies, which I delivered to the DRC for scanning. Some publishers, however, were simply wonderful. Palgrave, Routledge, and Blackwell were unfailingly responsive, quick, and thorough. Judy at Harvard University Press was a 6 pleasure to work with, and on more than one occasion, Katherine at the University of Pennsylvania Press restored my faith in all things academic. John Benjamins Publishing gave me a book gratis even though it was available as an e-book, understanding that if I had better retinas, I could have accessed a hard copy for free at my campus library. Over the last few years, I have sometimes wondered what purpose this doctorate serves. I only needed to go to the texts I was examining for an answer. I have been writing about the state of women’s lives and efforts to control their actions. Frequently, I have been elated at the progress women have made since the eighteenth century, evidenced by the very fact of my own higher education, but those moments were just as often tempered by the recognition of my privileged state. There are still vast numbers of women, in this country and around the world, who never get the chance to do what I have done, who don’t know what a PhD is, who don’t know how to read. It is to them, and to the brave women writers of every century, and to my mother and her mother, that this work is dedicated. 7 TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract 3 Acknowledgements 4 Table of Contents 7 Introduction, Or How to Become a Woman 8 Chapter 1: “Who Is 't Can Read a Woman?”: Sexual Identity on Shakespeare's Stage 28 Chapter 2: “Such Perverse Obedience!”: Hannah Cowley’s Unconventionally Traditional Women 84 Chapter 3: The Role of the Wife: Courtship, Marriage, and Advice Literature 134 Chapter 4: Training to be a Heroine: Jane Austen’s Performing Women 177 Conclusion 216 Works Cited 219 8 Introduction, Or How to Become a Woman Thomas Sheridan was unhappy. He had identified a problem, first within the clergy and then the public at large. So in 1790 he published his Lectures on the Art of Reading, in which he explained his concerns and laid out various solutions. Everyone, he fretted, was: ...confounding under one term, two very distinct things, that of mere reading, and reading well. In learning to read, two very different ends may be proposed. The one, that of silent reading, to enable us to understand authors, and store our minds with knowledge; the other, that of reading aloud, by which we may communicate the sentiments of authors to our hearers, with perspicuity and force. All our pains have been employed in accomplishing the former end; and with regard to the latter, we are either set wrong by false rules or left wholly to chance. (91-2) His lectures on reading aloud appeared in two volumes, one dedicated to prose, and the other to verse. Jane Austen also had strong feelings about reading aloud, which she expressed in a letter: “Our 2nd evening’s reading to Miss Benn had not pleased me so well, but I beleive [sic] something must be attributed to my Mother’s too rapid way of getting on—& tho’ she perfectly understands the Characters herself, she cannot speak as they ought” (Letters, 203). Austen’s disappointment with the performance of her novel is echoed by Marianne in Sense and Sensibility, who seems to consider an inability to read aloud effectively a serious character flaw 9 and wonders how Elinor could love Edward, whose “manner in reading to us” is “spiritless” and “tame” (n.pag.). Neither Sheridan nor Austen are discussing plays, but in the eighteenth century, plays were not the only literature that was spoken and heard. Printed matter of all kind was read aloud, plays, novels, poetry, periodicals, conduct manuals, and so on; the medium was irrelevant. Traditional literary criticism, however, typically divides genres into discrete spheres, erecting barriers between plays and novels that are not entirely historically accurate. In the pages that follow, I argue that in eighteenth-century England, the walls between theatre, novels, and conduct manuals were permeable to the point of being irrelevant, as writers participated in a three-part conversation about the social performance of gender roles. I examine the construction of the female ideal on Shakespeare’s stage and in eighteenth-century English theatre, conduct manuals, and novels, establishing performance as a common practice linking the centuries and mediums. The casting of boy actors in women’s roles on Shakespeare’s stage, I contend, created a system of gender identification by presenting simultaneous depictions of transgression and propriety, which was recognizable well into the eighteenth century. Novels and conduct manuals borrowed performative techniques from the stage to imbue their female characters with a similar dual nature and ability to engage in respectable rebellion. I begin by examining one of the most famous examples of staged gender fluidity: the boy actors who played women in Shakespeare’s theatre.