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After discussing the biographical information that I found on Seward--namely, her father's suppression of her poetry, her significant experience with Honora Sneyd, and her loss of several family members---I began to apply that information to my interpretation of Seward's writing. When I asked the class why Seward's letter to George Harding is notably more expressive and rebellious than her sonnets, Eric remarked that it was a matter of different formal aspects of each genre. Because Seward does not need to work around the Cartesian model in her letter writing and she is not limited to a 14-line form, she can naturally be more expressive in her letters. Therefore, what I had originally viewed as a female writer's intimidation in a traditionally male arena, was perhaps largely due to the different formal natures of two genres. This led me to view the sonnets with greater sensitivity for moments of contained rebellion . For instance, as Rick pointed out, Sonnet IX is quite rebellious in terms of its idea of homoeroticism: "Narcissus pining on the watry shore," and Seward does make reference to Lesbia. With this in mind, I began to consider the possibility that Seward is aware of and drawing from a feminist poetic tradition, one beginning with Sappho... Perhaps her sonnets are less conservative than I originally saw them; after all, she does modify the Shakespeareanarrangement by writing two quatrains, followed by two, three-lined units, instead of the traditional three quatrains, followed by a rhyming couplet.
As the discussion continued, I noted that a change occurs between Seward'ssonnets and her later, lyric poem Eyam. That change involves the way the speaker view nature and how that view of nature is expanded to include pain and cruelty. Seward's Sonnet VII acknowledges both the "midnight glooms" and the "lucid morn" --the contrasting elements of nature-- yet her view of the night contains no hint of pain or loss. The natural scene remains both beautiful and innocent. In Sonnet X, we can see that Seward has begun to merge her beloved, Honora, with nature. This marks a crucial step for Seward as an artist; by merging Honora with the permanence of impermanence in the natural world, she can make her beloved eternal and thereby free herself of pain. In Sonnet X, Honora is described with "soul-cheering rays" and "love-warm looks, " even though she has betrayed the speaker. Finally, in Sonnet XIII, Honora is associated with the "sunny hours," a time that brings pain to the speaker, a time which she must escape through the "child of Night and Silence, balmy Sleep."
However, as the class discussion revealed, I was perhaps a little to eager to make Eyam a point of immense contrast in Seward's career. Although Sonnet XIII does not explicitly merge Honora with the unpleasantness of Nature, it does associate her with pain: "Ceaseless those cruel fiends infest my day." Honora in all her sunny glory becomes something from which the author must escape. Thus Sonnet XIII is even more important than I initially realized.
As Craig mentioned, Eyam is more successful at revealing the complicated nature of the speaker and the object because its form is one of meditation, whereas the sonnet must capture a lyric moment in a limited space. Craig's observation was helpful to me and allowed me to once again return to Seward's sonnets with more sensitivity. As I continued to analyze the poem, the complexities that I found in Eyam were further enriched by the classroom discussion. I initially viewed one stanza as a simple illustration of the merging of nature's duality: "...by the long, coarse grass/ of the once smooth, and vivid green..." Then Libby noticed another layer of meaning: that Seward is trying to come to terms with the naturalizing of the past, of her memories.
My presentation then began to focus on the complexity of Eyam, which is spurred when the speaker leaves the "source of my filial cares." After leaving the realm of patriarchal control, the speaker can see the natural world from a more complex perspective. Immediately, she notices the unpredictable Derwent, "foaming" against banks, yet "lave[ing]/ The soft romantic vallies." The scene of her childhood brings mixed feelings in the speaker herself: " But, while on me the eyes of Friendship glow,/ Swell my pain'd sighs, my tears spontaneous flow." As we can see, the speaker is no longer just angry, amazed, or despairing, but all these emotions at once, just as the natural scene before her shifts and sways.
In the second stanza, the speaker again begins by asserting her independence: "Inscenes paternal, not beheld through years,/Nor viewed, till now, but by a Father's side.." These assertions allow Seward to finally see the complexities within other humans, such as her father and, implicitly, Honora as one of "thy early dead." When thinking of her father, she sheds "tender, tributary tears" from "keen regrets of duteous fondness." She both finds value in their relationship--she pays a "tribute " to him-- and recognizes that her tears also flow from a larger source, one perhaps stemming from years of paternal control over her life. Thus while Eyam is rich with despondency, it also hints of liberation. For in Eyam, Seward has finally reconciled her "childhood bliss" with the pain of adulthood.
Before the presentation, I was most concerned with my analysis of Seward's treatment of the Cartesian model: her struggle to merge Honora with Nature. Although class members offered advice about possible avenues for research and comparison, such as Sapphic and Newtonian influences, their nods of agreement and supportive comments were most helpful to me. I hope to center the term paper on my analysis of Seward's sonnets and Eyam, but my dilemma at this point is whether I should contrast her poetry with a canonized poet, such as Wordsworth. (A great deal of similarities exist between the two: I believe I could make a good comparison between Eyam and Tintern Abbey). However, I am still unable to resolve how I should frame my discussion of Seward in an ethical, illuminating way--to reveal the beauty and importance of her writing without allowing the frame of my discussion to pull her down . As Theresa Kelley explains in Romantic Women Writers: Voices and Countervoices, the issue of how to treat female Romantic writers in relation to the male canon is an important one:
Some argue that writing by Romantic women should be read on its own terms and situated in its own contexts so that its assessment will not be contaminated by critical predispositions derived from the traditional Romantic canon. Others contend rather that the voices of Romantic women writers gain their fullest resonance when read within and against the traditional canon (6-7).After reading Anna Seward's literary correspondence, which expresses her interest in the French Revolution, her rather feminist stance on marriage, and her own theories on poetry---"It has always been my endeavour to paint from nature, rather than to copy from books" (1786)-- I am inclined to agree with the latter critical perspective. After all, Anna Seward was a vital participant in her society, and she does make a contribution to Romanticism. Whether that contribution is as "significant" as that of a male canonized poet is the problem I am trying to deal with in a just and sensitive way.