We’ve talked quite a few times about sentimentality in The Hidden Hand, most commonly in reference to how the text challenges/revises ideas of the sentimental in 19th Century fiction. In the beginning of the novel Old Hurricane urges Herbert to accept his forgiveness and subsequent support saying, “Come, come, boy; I am not sentimental, nor romantic, nor melodramatic, nor nothing of that sort.” We expect this dismissal of sentimentality of Old Hurricane, who is one of the text’s oldest, whitest, richest patriarchs. We don’t expect our heroine to ridicule the power of feeling, but Capitola is decidedly not sentimental. In fact, Southworth tells readers early on that “the soul of Capitola naturally abhorred sentiment,” much to the frustration of other characters in the novel. For instance, when Craven Le Noir declares his love for Capitola, she responds by mocking his feelings: "’Well, I declare!’ said Cap, when he had finished his speech and was waiting in breathless impatience for her answer; ‘this is what is called a declaration of love and a proposal of marriage, is it? It is downright sentimental, I suppose, if I had only sense enough to appreciate it! It is as good as a play; pity it is lost upon me!’" Craven, who is on his knees proposing marriage, is emotionally wounded and cries, “Cruel girl! How you mock me!" But he’s not the only one who is baffled by Capitola’s behavior. Old Hurricane is forever frustrated by Cap’s hardened nature, especially when trying to tailor Cap’s wild ways: “Yes, if I could only get her to be serious long enough to listen to me! But you see Cap isn’t sentimental! and if I try to be, she laughs in my face” (175). She is, instead, a “witch,” a “wag,” a “mimic,” and a “droll.” But even though Old Hurricane finds Cap infuriating, these stereotypically negative qualities are what readers love most about the heroine. She’s got spunk!
Throughout the text Capitola openly disavows all things sentimental; her open (and textually accessible) distaste for sentiment alerts readers to the possibility that Southworth is commenting on fictional sentimentality. What comment she’s making, however, is up for debate. I, of course, have some thoughts and would like to turn to the scene when Cap and Clara switch places. When Clara tells Cap that the Le Noir are men threatening her with a “fate worse than death,” Cap shows “very little sympathy, for there was not a bit of sentimentality about our Cap.” Rather than shed tears and lament Clara’s dismal situation, Cap sets about fixing matters. In order to escape, Cap recommends fooling the Le Noir men by switching places. Cap very plainly instructs Clara saying, “If you go doing the sentimental you won't look like me a bit, and that will spoil all. There! keep your veil close, for it's windy, you know; throw back your head and fling yourself along with a swagger, as if you didn't care, ahem! for anybody, and–there you are!” In this scene Cap is encouraging Clara to act a part, to perform Cap’s masculine persona; Cap “swaggers” and walks with her head thrown back, just like a man. I have to admit, I find this self-satisfied attitude irritating and obnoxious in a man (and I’ve spent enough time with other women to know that I’m not alone), but Cap’s adoption of this affect is both delightful and humorous. Interestingly, too, is that Cap is aware of her every day performance and thus able to give Clara instruction. More to the point though, encouraging Clara to also “put on” the airs of a man, in effect, saves her life. The text seems to argue that there’s something to be said for putting on masculinity: Cap is engaging and Clara is empowered. In a very real way, the texts makes clear that gender is performed and women are capable of wielding “masculine” powers.
But that doesn’t mean “masculine” powers are more, well, powerful. We can’t forget that Cap’s performance of the “feminine” sentimental allows her to escape the Hidden House in the same fashion. When Clara has successfully “passed” for Cap, now it’s time for Cap to play Clara: “’Hush! here comes Dorcas Knight! Now I must make believe I’m Clara, and do the sentimental up brown!’ concluded Capitola, as she seated herself near the door where she could be heard, and began to sob softly” (312). Capitola does the sentimental "up brown," allowing her to conceal her identity and safely make it into town where she may have a chance to escape. True, the timely arrival of Herbert Greyson enables Cap to free herself of the Le Noir men, but we can’t forget that performing the sentimental got her to the altar in the first place. (I can only imagine that Southworth intended this mild irony.) When Cap and Clara switch places, then, the female performances of feminine sentimentality and masculine defiance are equally as effective. Even though the text seems to poke fun at sentimentality, it does not mock feminine emotion or feeling or experience. In fact, it seems to challenge the essentialist idea that there is a common, shared female experience. Cap and Clara are equally defiant and determined in their own right, and both are equally capable of sentimentality or defiance. I'd like to make clear that I'm not arguging (nor do I believe) that there are certain traits/behaviors that are decidedly "masculine" or "feminine." And I certainly don't think the text is promoting this idea either. Rather, it seems that Southworth is challenging the ideas of essentialist gender roles.
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I really enjoyed your reading of Southworth as a non-essentialist. I had not thought of her in that light but instead saw Capitola as a trickster or shape shifter. Women are often expected to be so by the clothing or persona we put on. I would so love to read a sequel of how Cap puts on or performs the role of wife.
ReplyDeleteGreat close reading!
ReplyDeleteWhat do you guys think of the references to sentimentalism in Ruth Hall and Moods (thinking about how either Mr./Mrs. Hall describe Ruth as not a bit sentimental, and when Warwick is looking at Sylvia on the cliff and decides that he is seeing sorrow rather than sentiment [which seems to be a good thing to him])? It seems as if both texts are participating in the project Amanda is describing here: sentiment is denaturalized and presented as performative, something to be deployed for particular ends (as Jean Muir so effectively does) or to be rejected for other ends. Or do you think something different is going on in those texts?