19世紀美國小說的女性困境研究-第一章

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序很高興為南京郵電大學外國語學院龍翔博士的新書《19世紀美國小說的女性困境研究》作序。龍翔在南京大學英語係就讀本科和碩士期間，我給她上過課，她的學習成績優秀，學術表現出色，給我留下深刻的印象。她後赴香港中文大學英語係深造，她的博士論文題目為“論伊麗莎白·斯托達德、凱特·肖邦和伊迪斯·華頓作品中的女性困境”。

該書的創新之處在於，它將伊麗莎白·斯托達德、凱特·肖邦和伊迪斯·華頓這三位女作家的生活和其作品結合起來，使之折射出一個時代的特征，並加以細致深刻的研究，分析從19世紀中葉到20世紀初期的美國女作家群為何不約而同地選擇諸如“束縛”和“困境”，作為她們寫作的主題，以及她們的困惑和呐喊對於改變社會現狀產生過何種作用。雖然這一批女性作家及其作品針對的是百餘年前的美國社會，但是她們的探索和努力對於20世紀中後期以及21世紀的美國乃至世界文學界依然在產生著不可忽視的影響力和現實意義。

盡管這三位女性作家個性突出，作品特色鮮明，讀者麵廣，影響很大，但在主流文學中卻並未獲得充分的肯定，更遑論對她們進行深入的研究，這也是本書的意義所在。實際上，19世紀下半葉美國女性作家的女性意識空前高漲，表現得最突出、文學成就最大的就是凱特·肖邦。當代批評家已經把她從南方“鄉土文學作家”納入到美國文學主流，成為美國浪漫主義、超驗主義、現實主義、自然主義的一個代表，使她當之無愧地躋身於美國一流作家的行列。如果說肖邦是美國女性主義在20世紀70年代“挖掘”出來的作家，伊迪斯·華頓則一直被認為是美國內戰後50年間最重要的一位女性作家。華頓寫有二十多部長篇小說、十部中短篇小說集、兩部詩集及數部遊記，這些作品不但在商業上頗為成功，也帶有相當的社會批判力度。她關注被一般作家所疏漏的家庭和社交圈，通過細致入微的內部描寫，揭示某個局部中含有的更加廣闊的社會現實。相對肖邦和華頓，伊麗莎白·斯托達德則較少為人知，盡管大家都知曉她起草過19世紀女性主義經典《情感宣言》，但對其文學地位至今仍有爭論，其作品的重要意義迄今尚未得到完全承認。

龍翔的新著對以上三位美國女性作家做了深入、全麵的分析，有很多創新之處。該書的出版，相信可以推進我國的美國文學研究，也有助於高校英語專業的文學課建設和研究生培養。

朱剛

2020年6月於南京大學

前言歐美女性主義最早發源於17、18世紀，到了19、20世紀和21世紀初有了蓬勃和長足的發展。女性主義思潮的發展影響了各個時代的女性作家及其作品。本書旨在研究19世紀中後期的美國女性作家及其作品，並采用女性主義理論予以分析。故此，本書選擇了三位頗具代表性的美國女性作家。她們和她們的作品分別為伊麗莎白·斯托達德(Elizabeth　Stoddard)的《摩根森一家》（The　Morgesons）,凱特·肖邦(Kate　Chopin)的《覺醒》（The　Awakening）和伊迪斯·華頓(Edith　Wharton)的《夏》（Summer）。

相對於同時代的美國男性作家及其作品研究而言，學術界對於19世紀的女性作家及其作品的研究仍然不夠廣泛和深入。在這三位美國女性作家之中，凱特·肖邦和伊迪斯·華頓較為主流文學界所認可；然而伊麗莎白·斯托達德則較少為讀者所了解。國際主流學術界對於伊麗莎白·斯托達德的文學地位至今仍然態度微妙，既沒有否定，也沒有完全肯定她的文學重要性。雖然伊迪斯·華頓一直為主流文壇所認可，但由於其發表作品眾多，因此其發行量較少的作品仍未被評論家給予足夠的關注。此外，本書希望將同一時代的幾位女性作家放在一起加以分析，並探討她們的共性和差異性，從而可以更好地了解19世紀中後期美國女性的社會生存狀態和藝術創作曆程。

伊麗莎白·斯托達德的《摩根森一家》（1862）講述了流行於美國19世紀中期強調女性居家的崇拜主義對其女性人物的束縛。凱特·肖邦的《覺醒》（1899）主要從婚姻的角度探討其對女性人物所造成的束縛。伊迪斯·華頓的《夏》（1917）從經濟的角度出發並探索了經濟困境對女性人物的束縛。本書的研究認為這幾位女性作家的作品均反映並指向一個從19世紀中後期到20世紀初期不同社會背景的女性都會遭遇到的問題，即無論在父權製的家庭之中或是之外，她們均被束縛而陷入困境。依據蘇珊·古芭（Susan　Gubar）和桑德拉·吉爾伯特（Sandra　Gilbert）將女性作家的生活同她們的作品相聯係的女性主義理論，本書旨在通過研究這幾位美國女性作家的生活和作品，從而可以更好地理解美國內戰後到第一次世界大戰這段時間中女性被束縛而陷入困境的文學主題。

本書分共為五章。第一章梳理了大西洋兩岸女性主義跨越兩個多世紀的變遷。第二、第三和第四章分別討論了斯托達德、肖邦和華頓三位作家的個人創作生涯及其作品。第五章對三位作家的相似和區別性加以比較。本書希望對該時期的女性作家和她們作品的獨特性和共性加以研究，從而肯定她們在文學、藝術以及曆史領域的獨特價值和魅力，並深入探討她們共同關心的問題。

因為作者水平有限，本書難免有疏漏和不足之處，歡迎讀者予以批評指正。

龍翔

2020年6月於南京

Table　of　ContentsPrefacev

Chapter　OneIntroduction1

Chapter　TwoFemale　Entrapment　and　the　Cult　of　Domesticity:　Elizabeth　Stoddards　The　Morgesons21

Chapter　ThreeFemale　Entrapment　and　the　Institution　of　Marriage:　Kate　Chopins　The　Awakening

Chapter　FourFemale　Entrapment　and　Financial　Difficulties:　Edith　Whartons　Summer168

Conclusion226

Works　Cited233

爽南琳圖文：三校樣成品尺寸：147mm×210mm版心：(5號)30行×27字(行距:2mm)南琳圖文：三校樣成品尺寸：147mm×210mm版心：(5號)30行×27字(行距:2mm)19世紀美國小說的女性困境研究Chapter　One

Chapter　OneIntroductionThis　book　explores　the　theme　of　female　entrapment　in　the　personal　lives　and　works　of　three　American　women　writers　whose　works　span　the　period　from　the　middle　of　the　nineteenth　century　to　the　early　twentieth　century.　The　three　American　women　writers　and　their　works　that　will　be　examined　in　this　book　are　Elizabeth　Stoddards　The　Morgesons　(1862)，　Kate　Chopins　The　Awakening　(1899)，　and　Edith　Whartons　Summer　(1917).　The　chapter　on　Kate　Chopin　will　be　the　centrepiece　of　the　book；　Elizabeth　Stoddard　can　be　viewed　as　a　predecessor　to　Chopin；　and　Edith　Wharton　as　a　successor.

The　term　“female　entrapment”　is　understood　in　this　book　as　a　dilemma　faced　by　women　whereby　they　are　uncomfortable　and　unfulfilled　by　either　staying　inside　mens　houses　or　being　exiled　in　the　outside　world；　or　to　put　it　another　way，　it　is　a　dilemma　faced　by　women　whereby　they　feel　entrapped　both　within　and　without　the　confines　of　a　patriarchal　domestic　sphere.　In　this　book，　it　is　argued　that　the　three　women　writers　works　testify　to　this　dilemma　faced　by　American　women　from　the　postbellum　period　to　World　War　I.　The　three　women　writers　have　adopted　an　ambivalent　stance　on　the　theme　of　female　entrapment，　and　have　intentionally　not　provided　a　satisfactory　solution　to　the　problem　for　their　women　characters.　Their　ambivalence　on　this　unresolved　theme　reflects　the　complex　nature　of　female　entrapment.

Before　going　into　any　greater　depth　on　the　three　women　writers　and　their　works，　it　is　important，　first　of　all，　to　look　at　the　theoretical　framework　for　this　book.　In　this　book，　arguments　made　by　feminist　critics　across　Europe　and　North　America　are　viewed　chronologically　so　as　to　trace　the　theoretical　development　of　the　concept　of　female　entrapment.　In　the　following　paragraphs，　the　word　“entrapment”　and　“confinement”　will　be　used　interchangeably　to　refer　to　the　same　concept.

First　Wave　of　FeminismCritics　have　different　opinions　regarding　how　to　define　the　three　waves　of　feminism.　In　this　book，　the　concept　of　the　three　waves　of　feminism　is　applied　only　to　give　a　general　and　chronological　account　of　the　feminist　theories　on　the　theme　of　female　entrapment.

The　British　woman　writer　and　pioneer，　Mary　Wollstonecraft，　wrote　A　Vindication　of　the　Rights　of　Woman　in　1792.　In　the　beginning　of　her　book，　she　questions　why　women　should　be　kept　under　the　“specious　name　of　innocence”　(9)　without　self　awareness　and　knowledge.　Wollstonecraft　sees　the　entrapment　in　terms　of　womens　education　in　her　time.　She　deplores　the　lack　of　time　and　space　devoted　to　womens　learning.　Wollstonecraft　believes　that　women　have　sufficient　intelligence　to　acquire　knowledge，　and　that　education　can　enlighten　a　womans　mind　and　save　her　from　blind　obedience.　Under　patriarchy，　Wollstonecraft　argues，　womens　minds　are　enfeebled　by　femininity，　and　that　they　are　not　treated　equally　as　men　either.　She　thinks　that　books　written　by　men　before　and　in　her　time　view　females　not　as　equals.　The　male　writers　aim　is　to　create　alluring　mistresses　rather　than　cultivate　reason　and　virtue　in　women.　The　solution　offered　by　Wollstonecraft　lies　in　imitating　manly　virtues　and　talents.　She　therefore　hopes　that　women　may　grow　more　and　more　masculine.　Wollstonecrafts　suggestion　raises　the　question：　is　becoming　more　masculine　the　real　solution　to　womans　predicament?

In　her　book　Wollstonecraft　also　points　out　that　woman　does　not　have　professional　ambition　to　engage　her　attention；　therefore，　she　has　to　marry　advantageously　to　rise　in　the　world.　In　order　to　achieve　the　goal　of　marriage，　her　time　is　sacrificed，　and　her　person　is　“often　legally　prostituted”　(65).　This　is　a　very　harsh　statement　concerning　womans　choice　and　position　in　her　time，　however，　it　shows　that　as　early　as　the　eighteenth　century，　women　writers　realize　that　marriage　can　cause　female　entrapment　and　that　how　a　woman　spends　her　time　is　decided　by　the　pressure　from　the　patriarchal　society　instead　of　her　own　will.　Wollstonecrafts　book　touches　on　the　theme　of　the　quest　for　womans　identity；　nevertheless，　she　does　not　express　it　explicitly.　When　she　writes　her　book，　it　appears　that　she　has　male　instead　of　female　readers　in　mind.　Due　to　historical　limitations，Wollstonecraft　had　not　foreseen　womens　ability　to　participate　in　all　fields　of　professions　two　hundred　years　later.　Wollstonecraft　views　woman　solely　in　the　roles　of　wife　and　mother.　Her　argument　on　womans　education，　therefore，　aims　more　at　attaining　virtue　and　progress　than　a　sense　of　self.

Across　the　Atlantic，　Margaret　Fuller，　American　critic　and　womens　rights　activist，　published　Woman　in　the　Nineteenth　Century　in　1845.　Fuller　details　womans　entrapment　by　describing　womans　sad　lot　in　a　patriarchal　society：　a　woman　has　to　stifle　her　aspiration　and　be　subjected　to　mans　will；　she　is　looked　upon　as　either　“slave”　or　“child”　by　man.　Fuller　traces　the　patriarchal　ideas　back　to　the　Bible.　In　the　Bible，　woman　is　made　for　the　purposes　of　man，　and　it　is　woman　who　causes　man　to　fall.　She　also　looks　into　history　to　prove　that　women　have　occupied　a　lower　place　in　society　for　a　long　time.　Fuller　laments　the　arbitrary　restrictions　placed　by　the　patriarchal　society　on　women.

Similarly　to　Wollstonecraft，　Fuller　tries　to　prove　that　intellectually　women　are　as　good　as　men.　While　Wollstonecrafts　book　appeals　to　men，　Fuller　aims　at　female　audience.　She　writes：　“What　woman　needs　is　not　as　a　woman　to　act　or　rule，　but　as　a　nature　to　grow，　as　an　intellect　to　discern，　as　a　soul　to　live　freely　and　unimpeded”　(20).　Fuller　hopes　that　the　barriers　imposed　by　a　patriarchal　society　on　women　can　be　removed　and　women　can　enjoy　equal　freedom　and　rights　as　men.　Fuller　appreciates　the　clarity　of　the　mind　and　the　freedom　of　the　soul；　therefore，　she　advocates　universal　rights，　freedom，　and　equality　for　both　men　and　women.

Writing　about　womans　self，　Fuller　advocates　selfreliance　for　women　in　the　midnineteenth　century.　She　believes　that　for　woman，　self　is　the　only　constant　friend；　therefore，　woman　needs　to　develop　selfrespect　and　learn　selfhelp.　She　is　confident　that　women　can　fit　into　any　kind　of　job.　By　urging　women　to　stand　on　their　own，　Fuller　believes　that　they　can　enjoy　the　completeness　of　life.　Fuller　is　very　progressive　or　even　radical　in　her　time.　She　is　optimistic　about　the　future　for　women.　Given　enough　time　and　space，　she　declares，　women　can　leave　their　marks　on　historical　scenes.　Although　impressed　by　Fullers　optimism，　one　has　to　note　the　idealism　in　her　book.　Fuller　hardly　mentions　the　importance　of　finance　for　women.　This　loophole　in　her　argument　is　covered　by　later　critics　such　as　Virginia　Woolf.

Second　Wave　of　Feminism

Picking　up　the　arguments　made　by　the　first　wave　of　feminists，　the　second　wave　of　feminists　explores　the　idea　of　female　entrapment　in　detail　and　further　advances　feminist　theories.　In　her　famous　book　A　Room　of　Ones　Own　(1929)，　Virginia　Woolf　advances　what　Wollstonecraft　advocated　for　women　over　a　century　before.　In　order　to　achieve　female　artisthood，　she　offers　the　image　of　a　room　of　ones　own，　which　can　be　understood　both　physically　as　well　as　metaphorically.　The　room　can　refer　to　a　private　room　at　home　where　woman　can　think　and　write.　Woolf　writes：　“In　the　first　place，　to　have　a　room　of　her　own，　let　alone　a　quiet　room　or　a　soundproof　room，　was　out　of　the　question”　(79).　The　room　also　implies　financial　security.　Here　Woolf　points　out　the　fact　that　women　have　been　poor　over　the　centuries.　They　can　neither　make　money　nor　keep　money　legally　by　law　in　the　past.　Woolf　recognizes　the　importance　of　finance　and　considers　it　indispensible　toward　freedom　and　the　pursuit　of　art.

Similar　to　Margaret　Fuller，　Woolf　emphasizes　selfreliance　for　women.　She　imagines　the　tragic　story　of　Shakespeares　sister，　who　fails　to　achieve　her　aspirations　due　to　restrictions　set　by　a　patriarchal　society.　Woolf　thinks　that　women　have　to　face　the　fact　that　“there　is　no　arm　to　cling　to”　(171).　By　becoming　financially　independent，　she　believes　that　one　day　“the　dead　poet　who　was　Shakespeares　sister　will　put　on　the　body　which　she　has　so　often　laid　down”　(172).　Woolf　thinks　that　selfreliance　plus　financial　independence　will　enable　woman　to　fully　tap　into　her　artistic　potential　and　achieve　her　selfhood.

The　Second　Sex　(1949)　establishes　the　unshakable　status　of　the　French　writer　Simone　de　Beauvoir　in　feminist　history.　Her　arguments　are　helpful　in　explaining　the　idea　of　female　entrapment，　and　are　thus　given　more　attention　in　this　introduction.　De　Beauvoir　thinks　that　marriage　can　become　a　form　of　entrapment　for　woman.　In　her　writings　de　Beauvoir　traces　social　and　cultural　influences　on　womans　development　from　childhood　to　adulthood.　She　notes　that　as　a　little　girl，　she　views　the　maternal　sphere　as　narrow　and　stifling，　and　retains　her　autonomy.　When　she　reaches　the　stage　of　a　young　girl，　she　is　encouraged　by　family　and　society　to　see　marriage　as　an　honourable　and　less　tiring　career　than　many　others.　She　begins　to　see　man　as　the　essential　whereas　herself　as　the　inessential.　She　starts　to　wait　for　man　to　define　her　future.

When　a　woman　reaches　adulthood　and　is　married，　de　Beauvoir　stresses　that　very　often　she　becomes　entrapped　through　conventional　marriage.　De　Beauvoir　argues　that　the　tragedy　of　marriage　is　that　it　mutilates　woman　and　dooms　her　to　a　lifetime　repetition　and　routine.　“The　first　twenty　years　of　womans　life　are　extraordinarily　rich，　as　we　have　seen；　she　discovers　the　world　and　her　destiny.　At　twenty　or　thereabouts　mistress　of　a　home，　bound　permanently　to　a　man，　a　child　in　her　arms，　she　stands　with　her　life　virtually　finished　for　ever”　(De　Beauvoir　496).　De　Beauvoir　believes　that　it　is　both　easy　and　dangerous　for　woman　to　lose　her　sense　of　self　in　marriage.　With　the　economic　power　in　mind，　she　writes：　In　marrying，　woman　gets　some　share　in　the　world　as　her　own；　legal　guarantees　protect　her　against　capricious　action　by　man；　but　she　becomes　his　vassal.　He　is　the　economic　head　of　the　joint　enterprise，　and　hence　he　represents　it　in　the　view　of　society.　She　takes　his　name；　she　belongs　to　his　religion，　his　class，　his　circle；　she　joins　his　family，　she　becomes　his　“half”.　She　follows　wherever　his　work　calls　him　and　determines　their　places　of　residence；　she　breaks　more　or　less　decisively　with　her　past，　becoming　attached　to　her　husbands　universe；　she　gives　him　her　person，　virginity　and　a　rigorous　fidelity　being　required.　(449)De　Beauvoir　points　out　the　selfsacrificing　tendency　prevalent　among　the　married　women.　Consequently，　it　is　very　easy　for　woman　to　lose　her　own　identity　and　become　entrapped　once　she　sacrifices　her　whole　self　for　the　family.　It　seems　that　for　de　Beauvoir　selfhood　and　marriage　pose　as　mutually　conflicting.　She　notes：　“She　forgets　herself　in　favour　of　her　husband，　her　lover，　her　child；　she　ceases　to　think　of　herself，　she　is　pure　gift，　pure　offering”　(637).　De　Beauvoirs　arguments　about　this　conflict　between　the　love　for　a　man　(the　other)　and　the　love　for　a　sense　of　self　are　quoted　by　later　feminist　theorists.　Lamenting　the　loss　of　self，　de　Beauvoir　devotes　lengthy　pages　to　explaining　how　woman　is　robbed　of　her　identity　due　to　the　restrictions　of　patriarchy.

De　Beauvoir　also　associates　female　entrapment　with　the　control　of　time.　She　argues　that　a　woman　is　not　in　charge　of　her　time，　which　both　her　predecessors，　Wollstonecraft　and　Woolf，　have　briefly　touched　upon.　Wollstonecraft　believes　that　woman　sacrifices　her　time　to　captivate　man　for　economic　and　social　gains.　Woolf　argues　that　woman　loses　the　control　of　her　time　because　of　constant　interruptions　in　her　life.　As　for　de　Beauvoir，　she　thinks　woman　is　not　in　charge　of　her　time　in　that　she　is　always　passively　waiting：　In　a　sense　her　whole　existence　is　waiting，　since　she　is　confined　in　the　limbo　of　immanence　and　contingence，　and　since　her　justification　is　always　in　the　hands　of　others.　She　awaits　the　homage，　the　approval　of　men，　she　awaits　love，　she　awaits　the　gratitude　and　praise　of　her　husband　or　her　lover.　She　awaits　her　support，　which　comes　from　man；　...　She　waits　for　man　to　put　in　an　appearance，　since　her　economic　dependence　places　her　at　his　disposal；　she　is　only　one　element　in　masculine　life　while　man　is　her　whole　existence.　The　husband　has　his　occupations　outside　the　home，　and　the　wife　has　to　put　up　with　his　absence　all　day　long；　the　lover—passionate　as　he　may　be—is　the　one　who　decides　on　their　meetings　and　separations　in　accordance　with　his　obligations.　In　bed，　she　awaits　the　males　desire，　she　awaits—sometimes　anxiously—her　own　pleasure.　(622)Just　note　how　many　times　de　Beauvoir　uses　the　word　“wait”.　Waiting　is　associated　with　the　passage　of　time.　When　woman　passively　waits，　it　seems　her　own　choice　to　do　so；　nonetheless，　in　reality　she　has　no　other　alternative　than　waiting.　In　waiting　she　becomes　entrapped，　as　she　cannot　determine　when　and　where　things　will　happen　or　ever　happen.　De　Beauvoir　argues　that　a　woman　is　waiting　practically　her　whole　life.　Her　justification　lies　in　the　hands　of　others　instead　of　herself.　The　word，　“waiting”，　exposes　the　vulnerability　of　woman.　She　is　powerless，　incapable　of　deciding　for　her　own　happiness，　and　waiting　to　be　saved.

De　Beauvoir　also　associates　female　entrapment　with　womans　biology.　She　writes：“the　cycle　of　each　pregnancy，　each　flowering，　exactly　reproduces　the　one　that　proceeded.　In　this　play　of　cyclical　phenomena　the　sole　effect　of　time　is　a　slow　deterioration”　(610).　When　looking　at　womans　body，　she　notes　the　ambivalence　in　the　way　woman　regards　it.　To　woman　the　body　is　a　burden：　“worn　away　in　service　to　the　species，　bleeding　each　month，　proliferating　passively，　it　is　not　for　her　a　pure　instrument　for　getting　a　grip　on　the　world　but　an　opaque　physical　presence...　it　contains　menaces：　woman　feels　endangered　by　her　‘insides’”　(630).　For　de　Beauvoir，　womans　body　constitutes　part　of　female　entrapment　in　a　negative　way.

De　Beauvoir　also　feels　keenly　the　confinement　of　home.　She　notes　that　on　the　one　hand　woman　wants　a　roof　over　her　head　and　walls　to　prevent　her　being　abandoned　in　the　patriarchal　world；　however，　on　the　other　hand，　woman　longs　for　her　liberty　and　fears　for　her　confinement　at　home.　“Woman　is　shut　up　in　a　kitchen　or　in　a　boudoir，　and　astonishment　is　expressed　that　her　horizon　is　limited.　Her　wings　are　clipped，　and　it　is　found　deplorable　that　she　cannot　fly”　(616).　The　conflicting　emotion　toward　home　has　been　noted　by　later　feminist　critics　as　well.　De　Beauvoir　believes　womans　lack　of　space　is　caused　by　the　opaque　nature　of　her　body　and　confinement　at　her　home.　“Shut　up　in　her　flesh，　her　home，　she　sees　herself　as　passive　before　these　gods　with　human　faces　who　set　goals　and　establish　values”　(609).　Body　and　home　can　have　positive　connotations，　but　de　Beauvoir　believes　that　under　patriarchy　the　two　lead　to　confinement　that　robs　woman　of　her　liberty.

Solitude　for　woman　is　fully　discussed　by　de　Beauvoir.　The　reason　de　Beauvoir　stresses　solitude　is　that　she　believes　it　solves　the　problem　of　womans　entrapment.　“Enslaved　as　she　is　to　her　husband，　her　children，　her　home，　it　is　ecstasy　to　find　herself　alone，　sovereign　on　the　hillsides；　she　is　no　longer　mother，　wife，　housekeeper，　but　a　human　being；　she　contemplates　the　passive　world，　and　she　remembers　that　she　is　wholly　a　conscious　being，　an　irreducible　free　individual”　(631).　Solitude　is　a　recurring　theme　for　women　writers　over　generations.　The　charm　of　solitude，　de　Beauvoir　explains，　lies　in　that　she　can　temporarily　forget　her　domestic　responsibility　and　the　restrictions　placed　by　the　society，　and　simply　look　upon　herself　as　an　unfettered　and　free　human　being.　De　Beauvoirs　arguments　build　solid　foundations　for　the　third　wave　of　feminists.

In　their　book　The　Madwoman　in　the　Attic　(1979)，　Sandra　Gilbert　and　Susan　Gubar　also　focus　on　the　idea　of　female　entrapment.　Different　from　de　Beauvoir　who　writes　about　women　in　general，　Gilbert　and　Gubar　centre　on　a　special　group　of　women—literary　women.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　think　that　a　woman　writers　quest　for　her　own　story　symbolizes　her　quest　for　selfdefinition.　Speaking　against　the　patriarchal　society，　they　argue　that　the　patriarchal　society　together　with　its　values　and　restrictions　leads　woman　to　“selflessness”，　which　is　“in　some　sense　sickening”　(55).　One　of　the　values　advocated　by　the　patriarchal　society，　Gilbert　and　Gubar　stress，　is　the　ideal　of　femininity.　“Learning　to　become　a　beautiful　object，　the　girl　learns　anxiety　about—perhaps　even　loathing　of—her　own　flesh.　Peering　obsessively　into　the　real　as　well　as　metaphoric　looking　glasses　that　surround　her，　she　desires　literally　to　‘reduce’　her　own　body”　(56).　Here　Gilbert　and　Gubar　talk　about　selfstarvation　and　anorexia，　and　question　the　ruthless　selfsuppression　that　results　from　conforming　to　the　feminine　ideal，　which　hampers　womans　creation　of　a　real　self.

Looking　into　the　literary　history，　Gilbert　and　Gubar　point　out　the　lack　of　space　for　development　in　the　literary　world　for　women.　They　find　that　women　do　not　have　stories　or　histories.　For　women　writers　who　did　manage　to　publish，　in　most　cases,　they　had　to　publish　their　works　pseudonymously　or　anonymously，　or　to　acknowledge　their　female　limitations　and　focus　on　lesser　subjects　deemed　fit　by　the　patriarchal　society.　“[[T]he]　literature　produced　by　women　confronted　with　such　anxietyinducing　choices　has　been　strongly　marked　not　only　by　an　obsessive　interest　in　these　limited　options　but　also　by　obsessive　imagery　of　confinement　that　reveals　the　ways　in　which　female　artists　feel　trapped　and　sickened　both　by　suffocating　alternatives　and　by　the　culture　that　created　them”　(64).　Lack　of　space　for　literary　creativity　becomes　one　form　of　confinement　for　women　writers.

To　assert　herself　in　the　face　of　such　confinement，　some　literary　women　resort　to　the　defence　of　silence.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　find　that　there　are　both　heroines　and　women　writers　who　suffer　from　the　struggle　with　her　body.　“Rejecting　the　poisoned　apples　her　culture　offers　her，　the　woman　writer　often　becomes　in　some　sense　anorexic，　resolutely　closing　her　mouth　on　silence...　Thus　both　Charlotte　and　Emily　Bront　depict　the　travails　of　starved　or　starving　anorexic　heroines，　while　Emily　Dickinson　declares　in　one　breath　that　she　‘had　been　hungry，　all　the　Years’”　(58).　By　talking　metaphorically　about　the　silence　resulting　from　anorexia，　Gilbert　and　Gubar　again　draw　readers　attention　to　the　lack　of　literary　space　for　women　writers.

For　Gilbert　and　Gubar，　the　image　of　confinement　applies　to　both　the　literary　space　and　the　individual　home.　To　them　the　lack　of　space　and　freedom　in　both　literary　world　and　individual　home　is　interrelated　and　inseparable.　Together　these　factors　suck　the　hope　and　creativity　out　of　aspiring　women　writers　and　cause　them　enormous　anxiety.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　make　forceful　arguments　on　how　the　individual　home　can　be　equated　with　a　prison.　They　note　that　literary　women　like　Dickinson，　Bront，　and　Rossetti　were　all　“imprisoned　in...　their　fathers　houses”：　“It　is　not　surprising，　then，　that　spatial　imagery　of　enclosure　and　escape，　elaborated　with　what　frequently　becomes　obsessive　intensity，　characterizes　much　of　their　writing”　(83).　To　break　away　from　the　confinement　of　home　became　a　common　theme　in　the　nineteenthcentury　literature　by　women，　which　is　termed　as　a　unique　female　tradition　by　Gilbert　and　Gubar.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　believe　that　the　anxiety　about　space　is　crucial　in　understanding　womens　literature　of　both　the　nineteenth　and　twentieth　century.　The　image　of　the　mad　woman　in　the　attic　is　powerfully　symbolic.　Due　to　the　restrictions　of　patriarchy，　the　literary　woman　suffers　from　acute　anxiety　to　fully　develop　her　own　identity.

Third　Wave　of　Feminism

Building　on　the　ideas　proposed　by　the　second　wave　of　feminists，　the　third　wave　of　feminists　further　advances　the　discussion　of　female　entrapment.　To　most　of　the　second　wave　of　feminists，　the　female　biology　and　the　female　body　are　construed　as　forms　of　entrapment.　However，　to　the　third　wave　of　feminists，　the　female　body　takes　on　new　meanings　and　becomes　enlightening　and　liberating　to　the　understanding　of　self.

Although　Helene　Cixous　published　The　Laugh　of　Medusa　in　1975，　she　expresses　quite　radical　ideas　in　her　book.　She　stresses　the　importance　of　a　womans　body.　To　Cixous，　womans　sense　of　self　is　intricately　linked　to　writing　through　her　body.　In　her　book　she　stresses　that　woman　must　write　her　self.　She　must　write　about　women　and　bring　women　to　writing.　She　talks　about　writing　through　the　female　body　by　famously　claiming：　“Write　your　self.　Your　body　must　be　heard”　(2043).　Cixous　thinks　that　history　teaches　woman　to　turn　away　from　her　body　and　considers　it　with　shame.　She　therefore　argues　that　women　need　to　write　through　their　bodies　and　invent　impregnable　language　to　break　the　silence　and　partitions.　Cixous　believes　that　writing　gives　women　strength，　pleasure，　and　a　sense　of　being　in　charge.　She　urges　women　writers　to　be　fighters，　for　she　believes　that　writing　will　emancipate　the　text　of　the　female　self.　Cixouss　argument　has　influenced　later　feminist　critics.　Apart　from　fighting　for　gender　equality，　feminist　critics　begin　to　turn　toward　the　uniqueness　of　woman　to　understand　female　selfhood.

In　Julia　Kristevas　New　Maladies　of　the　Soul　(1995)，　she　writes　about　the　relationship　between　the　female　body　and　entrapment.　Kristeva　connects　the　female　self　to　the　female　body.　Kristeva　thinks　that　pregnancy　fundamentally　challenges　womans　identity.　She　argues　that　it　is　easy　for　woman　to　become　selfeffacing　toward　her　child.　In　order　to　preserve　an　independent　and　creative　self，　she　stresses　that　woman　should　not　annihilate　her　“affective，　intellectual　and　professional　personality”　in　the　process　of　maternity　(364).　Kristeva　does　not　think　women　in　the　past　dealt　well　with　the　conflict　between　self　and　maternity；　nevertheless，　she　is　optimistic　about　the　future.　Different　from　de　Beauvoir　who　considers　the　female　body　burdensome，　Kristeva　suggests　that　woman　can　preserve　her　identity　in　the　process　of　maternity.　Kristeva　values　the　complexity　of　individual　woman，　and　calls　for　the　“formation　of　a　free　and　flowing　subjectivity”　(366).

Susan　Bordo　in　Unbearable　Weight：　Feminism，　Western　Culture，　and　the　Body　(1993)　concentrates　on　the　relationship　between　the　female　body　and　sense　of　self.　She　traces　the　influence　of　history　in　terms　of　the　ideal　femininity，　and　argues　that　the　effect　lingers.　For　Bordo，　the　selfsacrificing　nature　of　femininity　is　best　exemplified　in　the　control　of　female　appetite　for　food.　The　rules　for　this　construction　of　femininity　(and　I　speak　here　in　a　language　both　symbolic　and　literal)　require　that　women　learn　to　feed　others，　not　the　self，　and　to　construe　any　desires　for　selfnurturance　and　selffeeding　as　greedy　and　excessive...　that　female　hunger—for　public　power，　for　independence，　for　sexual　gratification—be　contained，　and　the　public　space　that　women　be　allowed　to　take　up　be　circumscribed，　limited.　(236768)Similar　to　her　predecessors，　Bordo　feels　keenly　the　relationship　between　body　and　self.　De　Beauvoir　explains　in　her　book　that　woman　sees　her　body　as　opaque　and　burdensome.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　think　that　literary　woman　has　to　suppress　her　body　physically　and　metaphorically　to　conform　to　the　values　of　the　patriarchal　society.　While　acknowledging　previous　feminists　stances，　Bordo，　however，　comes　up　with　a　different，　almost　opposite　perspective.　She　argues：　Nonetheless，　anorexia，　hysteria，　and　agoraphobia　may　provide　a　paradigm　of　one　way　in　which　potential　resistance　is　not　merely　undercut　but　utilized　in　the　maintenance　and　reproduction　of　existing　power　relations.　The　central　mechanism　I　will　describe　involves　a　transformation　(or，　if　you　wish，　duality)　of　meaning，　through　which　conditions　that　are　objectively　(and，　on　one　level，　experientially)　constraining，　enslaving，　and　even　murderous，　come　to　be　experienced　as　liberating，　transforming，　and　lifegiving.　(236465)Bordo　points　out　the　dual　nature　of　anorexia.　On　the　one　hand，　it　is　sickening　and　selfharming　resulting　from　internalizing　the　values　of　the　patriarchal　society；　on　the　other　hand，　however，　it　represents　the　triumph　of　free　will　and　strength　of　woman.　Bordo，　therefore，　adds　a　whole　new　level　of　meaning　to　the　understanding　of　the　relationship　between　the　female　body　and　the　idea　of　female　entrapment.

Bordo　also　reiterates　the　theme　of　home　as　confinement.　Drawing　on　the　historical　background　of　the　1950s　and　early　1960s，　she　notes　that　domesticity　and　dependency　reemerged　as　the　feminine　ideal.　Quoting　Betty　Friedan，　she　argues　that　women　of　that　era　were　educated　by　movies　and　television　shows　to　be　“content　in　a　world　of　bedroom　and　kitchen，　sex，　babies　and　home”　(2367).　For　both　the　second　and　the　third　wave　of　feminists，　home　loses　its　positive　significance，　and　is　equated　with　a　suffocating　dungeon.　In　Gender　and　Colonial　Space，　Sara　Mills　points　out　that　in　the　nineteenth　century　a　womans　place　is　supposed　to　be　domestic　and　at　home.　Friedan　and　Bordo　argue　that　there　have　not　been　marked　changes　in　this　trend　of　ideas　until　the　mid　twentieth　century.　The　image　of　confinement　and　escape　therefore　becomes　pervasive.

Pamela　Odih　(1999)　understands　the　idea　of　female　entrapment　in　terms　of　womens　time.　For　Odih,　womans　failure　to　take　charge　of　her　own　time　is　crucial　to　understand　her　lack　of　control　over　self.　Similar　to　her　predecessors，　such　as　de　Beauvoir，　Odih　notes：　“A　condition　and　consequence　of　womens　subordinate　position　in　the　public　sphere，　and　their　ascribed　domestic　responsibilities　in　the　private　sphere，　is　that　of　significantly　inhibiting　their　power　to　make　decisions　about　their　own　time　and　also　that　of　encouraging　an　existence　that　is　discursively　tied　to　the　‘needs’　of　significant　others”　(11).　The　division　of　public　and　private　spheres　by　genders　has　been　noted　by　a　number　of　feminist　critics.　Odih　suggests　that　the　idea　of　womans　place，　usually　understood　as　within　home，　curtails　womans　exploration　of　her　self.

Kerstin　W.　Shands　wrote　Embracing　Space：　Spatial　Metaphors　in　Feminist　Discourse　in　1999.　As　the　book　title　suggests，　it　deals　exclusively　with　the　idea　of　female　entrapment　in　terms　of　space.　Building　on　previous　feminists　arguments　of　space，　Shands　also　understands　the　female　entrapment　in　terms　of　body　and　home.　Shands　notes　that　body　is　often　imagined　as　a　building，　“a　temporary　house　for　the　immortal　soul”　(38).　The　womans　body　is　often　equated　with　the　space　of　femininity：　“the　inside\/outside　landscapes　of　the　vulva，　the　vagina，　and　the　womb，　landscapes　for　which　we　are　curiously　lacking　in　words”　(45).　Shands　argues　that　if　spaciousness　and　freedom　are　interimplicated，　then　anorectic，　bulimic，　and　anorecticbulimic　conditions　are　ways　of　requesting　more　space　or　a　differently　constituted　space：　“As　I　have　already　suggested，　there　is　a　desire　to　break　out　of　the　boundaried　space　of　the　ideal　and　idealized　female　body　and　what　it　represents　to　the　anorexic，　who　confuses　or　conflates　‘body’　and　‘self’”　(51).　Shandss　view　of　anorexia　as　resistance　is　similar　to　that　of　Bordo.　Bordo　sees　anorexia　as　a　triumph　of　will　while　Shands　views　it　as　a　plea　for　more　space.

Concerning　the　image　of　home　as　confinement，　Shands　expresses　her　understanding　of　previous　feminists　arguments；　nevertheless，　she　stresses　the　dual　nature　of　home：　“Because　of　our　contemporary　focus　on　hypermobility，　other　aspects　of　womens　experiences　of　place　and　space　are　being　neglected，　such　as　womens　fear　of　expulsion”　(86).　Shands　points　to　womans　conflicting　desire：　to　have　a　place　of　her　own　and　her　fear　of　confinement　at　home.　She　explains　this　ambivalence　by　quoting　Gilbert　and　Gubar　in　The　Madwoman　in　the　Attic：　“the　equally　uncomfortable　spatial　options　of　expulsion　into　the　cold　outside　or　suffocation　in　the　hot　indoors”　(86).　Shands　has　not　offered　an　ideal　solution　to　this　dilemma.

By　going　through　the　three　waves　of　feminism，　it　is　clear　that　the　forms　of　female　entrapment　can　be　understood　both　in　terms　of　public　and　private　spheres.In　Feminism，　the　Public　and　the　Private，　Joan　B.　Landes　defines　the　traditional　term　“public”　and　“private”　as　follows：　“The　term　‘public’　suggests　the　opposite　of　‘private’：　that　which　pertains　to　the　people　as　a　whole，　the　community，　the　common　good，　things　open　to　the　sight，　and　those　things　that　are　accessible　and　shared　by　all.　Conversely，　‘the　private’　signifies　something　closed　and　exclusive，　as　in　the　admonition　‘Private　property—no　trespassing’”　(12).　However，　Landes　also　notes　that　feminism　has　“upset　the　firm　divisions　between　public　and　private　matters”，　and　contributed　to　“a　deepening　understanding　of　the　historical，　symbolic，　and　practical　effects　of　the　organization　of　public　and　private　life”　(2).　In　this　book，　the　public　sphere　is　defined　as　referring　to　perspectives　such　as　the　scarcity　of　life　options　available　for　women，　the　institution　of　marriage，　and　the　notion　of　“a　room　of　ones　own”；　while　the　private　sphere　mainly　refers　to　the　female　body，　and　to　states　such　as　anorexia　and　pregnancy.　The　public　spheres　can　refer　to　perspectives　such　as　the　scarcity　of　life　options　available　for　women，　the　institution　of　marriage，　and　the　notion　of　“a　room　of　ones　own”；　while　the　private　sphere　mainly　refers　to　the　female　body，　and　to　states　such　as　anorexia　and　pregnancy.　In　this　book　I　would　like　to　apply　these　theories　of　female　entrapment　in　particular　those　of　Virginia　Woolf，　Simone　de　Beauvoir，　Susan　Gubar　and　Sandra　Gibert，　and　Susan　Bordo，　to　the　analysis　of　works　written　by　Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Kate　Chopin，　and　Edith　Wharton　so　as　to　examine　the　theme　of　female　entrapment　for　both　the　heroines　and　the　authors.

This　book　is　divided　into　five　chapters.　Chapter　One　is　the　introduction，　and　Chapter　Five　is　the　conclusion.　The　main　body，　which　consists　of　Chapter　Two，　Chapter　Three，　and　Chapter　Four，　will　look　at　the　three　women　writers　and　their　works　respectively.　The　three　chapters　attempt　to　answer　three　major　questions　in　relation　to　the　idea　of　female　entrapment.　First，　I　would　like　to　explore　if　the　three　women　writers　have　ever　felt　entrapped　in　their　lives　in　regard　to　the　goal　of　achieving　artisthood.　Second，　I　will　examine　various　forms　of　entrapment　imposed　on　women　characters　in　the　three　novels.　Finally，　I　will　look　for　the　solutions　offered　in　the　novel　to　free　women　characters　from　their　entrapment.　The　three　questions　will　allow　us　to　better　understand　the　literary　theme　of　female　entrapment　in　womens　writing　in　the　period　from　postbellum　to　World　War　I　in　America.

Chapter　Two　will　focus　on　Elizabeth　Stoddards　The　Morgesons　(1862).　Elizabeth　Stoddard　(1823—1902)　is　a　woman　writer　who　had　been　forgotten　for　around　eighty　years　in　American　literary　history.　It　was　not　until　the　1980s　that　Stoddard　and　her　novel　The　Morgesons　were　reintroduced　to　scholars　and　students.　Elizabeth　Stoddard　underwent　a　very　painful　struggle　for　her　dream　of　artisthood.　Her　experience　strongly　confirms　Gubars　and　Gilberts　argument　in　relation　to　the　entrapment　of　women　writers　in　the　mid　nineteenth　century　America.　Her　bestknown　novel，　The　Morgesons，　is　about　the　quests　for　freedom　and　selfhood　of　two　sisters　of　a　middleclass　family　in　a　conservative　town　of　New　England　in　the　mid　nineteenth　century.　The　focus　of　the　chapter　explores　the　entrapment　imposed　by　the　ideology　of　domesticity　on　these　female　characters.　The　forms　of　entrapment　will　be　explored　in　two　ways；　firstly　with　reference　to　the　“a　room　of　ones　own”　notion　made　popular　by　Woolf　and，　secondly，　by　examining　how　the　female　body　(passion　and　hunger)　is　described.　Compared　with　the　sad　endings　of　Kate　Chopins　The　Awakening　and　Edith　Whartons　Summer，　Stoddard　offers　a　semihappy　ending　for　The　Morgesons.　Although　critics　have　varying　opinions　regarding　the　ending　of　the　novel，　Stoddard　makes　the　effort　of　stressing　the　equality　between　two　genders　within　the　context　of　marriage.　The　author　seems　to　express　the　view　that　women　characters　have　to　compromise　with　their　circumstances，　and　that　maturity　is　essential　to　aid　women　on　their　quests　for　freedom　and　selfhood　in　the　mid　nineteenth　century　America.

Chapter　Three　will　be　about　Kate　Chopins　The　Awakening　(1899).　Similar　to　Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Kate　Chopin　(1851—1904)　had　also　been　forgotten　for　around　half　a　century　by　American　critics　and　readers.　Early　in　her　writing　career，　she　earned　a　reputation　as　a　local　colourist.　However，　after　the　publication　of　her　controversial　novel，　The　Awakening，　she　was　condemned　unanimously　by　her　contemporary　critics，　which　seriously　affected　her　later　writing　career　and　resulted　in　the　neglect　of　her　works　over　half　a　century　by　American　readers.　Chopin　and　her　works　were　rediscovered　by　Norwegian　scholar　Per　Seyersted　in　the　late　1960s，　and　since　then　there　has　been　a　revived　interest　in　her　literary　works.　The　protagonist　of　The　Awakening　is　a　married　woman　of　the　uppermiddle　class　in　Southern　America.　She　goes　through　the　process　of　awakening　to　her　own　sense　of　self　and　struggles　to　shake　off　the　entrapment　largely　(not　solely)　imposed　upon　by　her　marriage.　In　The　Awakening　entrapment　will　be　looked　at　from　both　the　public　and　private　spheres.　The　public　sphere　will　be　looked　at　in　terms　of　the　scarcity　of　life　options　available　for　women，　the　institution　of　marriage，　and　the　notion　of　“a　room　of　ones　own”　(physical　space　and　economy)；　while　the　private　sphere　will　be　examined　in　regard　to　the　representation　of　the　female　body　(bodily　sensations　and　womans　biology).　The　death　of　the　protagonist　in　the　end　suggests　Chopins　pessimism　about　the　belief　that　a　woman　can　gain　full　autonomy　and　succeed　in　deciding　her　own　life　path　in　late　nineteenth　century　America.

Chapter　Four　will　look　at　Edith　Whartons　Summer　(1917).　Edith　Wharton　(1862—1937)　is　the　best　known　author　among　the　three　women　writers　studied　in　this　book.　Critics　tend　to　turn　their　attention　to　her　more　famous　literary　pieces，　such　as　The　House　of　Mirth　and　The　Age　of　Innocence.　Summer　is　more　often　mentioned　in　conjunction　with　Whartons　other　novels.　To　Wharton，　however，　Summer　was　among　her　top　five　favourite　pieces　of　works.　And　it　is　also　regarded　by　criticsCritics　such　as　Hermione　Lee.　as　one　of　her　most　outspoken　pieces　on　womens　oppression.　Summer　is　about　a　poor　workingclass　womans　dissatisfaction　and　frustration　with　her　current　life　situation　in　a　small　village　in　New　England.　The　focus　of　the　chapter　is　to　explore　the　financial　entrapment　imposed　on　the　female　protagonist.　The　forms　of　entrapment　are　examined　in　regard　to　aspects　of　the　public　sphere　such　as　the　notion　of　“a　room　of　ones　own”　and　the　male　gaze；　while　the　private　sphere　will　also　be　examined　through　the　female　body　(sexuality　and　pregnancy).　The　sad　ending　of　the　novel　suggests　the　lack　of　options　for　a　young　woman　of　a　lower　class　to　escape　the　financial　entrapment　in　early　twentieth　century　America.

In　this　book　the　three　women　writers　lives　and　works　will　be　connected　and　compared.　It　is　argued　that　their　works　all　reflect　and　point　to　the　dilemma　faced　by　women　of　various　social　backgrounds，　whereby　they　feel　entrapped　both　within　and　without　the　confines　of　a　patriarchal　domestic　sphere　in　America　during　the　years　between　the　postbellum　period　and　World　War　Ⅰ.　Chapter　Two

Chapter　TwoFemale　Entrapment　and　the　Cult　of

Domesticity：　Elizabeth　Stoddards

The　MorgesonsOh，　the　wild，　wild　days　of　youth!

My　royal　youth；

My　blood　was　then　my　king：

Maybe　a　little　mad，

But　full　of　truth!　(Stoddard　34)Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Poems，　34.In　this　chapter，　I　am　going　to　explore　the　theme　of　female　entrapmentIn　this　book，　entrapment　and　confinement　will　be　used　interchangeably.　in　the　personal　life　and　works　of　Elizabeth　Stoddard.　I　argue　that　Stoddards　works　testify　to　the　dilemma　faced　by　women　from　the　middle　class　in　midnineteenthcentury　America，　whereby　they　feel　entrapped　both　within　and　without　the　confines　of　a　patriarchal“Patriarchy　literally　means　rule　by　the　father.　The　term，　however，　is　used　in　a　variety　of　ways.　Radical　feminists　use　it　to　describe　a　broad　system　of　oppression　and　control　of　women　by　men”　(Aulette　29).　domestic　sphere.　This　chapter　looks　at　female　entrapment　mainly　from　the　perspective　of　the　ideologies　of　femininityIn　this　book，　I　will　use　the　“ideal　of　femininity　in　the　nineteenthcentury”　and　“Victorian　femininity”　interchangeably.　The　Victorian　era　refers　to　the　period　under　the　rule　of　Queen　Victoria　in　nineteencentury　Britain；　however，　some　critics　also　apply　the　term　“Victorian”　in　American　context　as　well.　For　example，　Ronald　Walters　uses　the　term　“Victorian　America”　in　his　book　Primers　for　Prudery：　Sexual　Advice　to　Victorian　America.　and　domesticity　in　midnineteenthcentury　America.　The　ideologies　of　femininity　and　domesticity　are　interrelated.　Terms，　such　as　ideal　femininity，　domestic　ideal，　true　womanhood，　and　so　on，　are　interrelated　or　even　exchangeable　against　the　backdrop　of　the　midnineteenthcentury　America.

In　her　article　“Puberty　to　Menopause：　The　Cycle　of　Femininity　in　NineteenthCentury　America”，　Carroll　SmithRosenberg　describes　Victorian　American　femininity　as　“chaste，　delicate，　and　loving”　(65).　The　quality　of　purity　is　strongly　emphasized，　as　Sally　Mitchell　explains　in　her　book，　The　Fallen　Angel：　Chastity，　Class　and　Womens　Reading，　1835—1880，　that　“Nineteenthcentury　thinking　and　writing　about　women　is　informed　by　the　idea　of　feminine　purity”　(x).The　idea　of　Victorian　femininity　will　be　explained　in　detail　in　the　chapter　on　Kate　Chopin.　Thus，　Victorian　womanhood　is　often　depicted　as　passionless，　“asexual”，　and　“icily　aloof　from　all　dangerous　impulses”　(Walters　65).

In　her　book，　Just　A　Housewife：　The　Rise　and　Fall　of　Domesticity　in　America，　Glenna　Matthews　stresses　the　importance　and　centrality　of　home　in　the　midnineteenthcentury　America.　“Indeed，　by　1850　the　home　had　become　a　mainstay　of　the　national　culture.　Many　scholars　have　discussed　womens　culture　in　the　nineteenth　century　and　have　related　it　to　the　strength　of　the　cult　of　domesticity”　(Matthews　35).　Likewise，　Lora　Romero　in　“Fiction　and　Domesticity”　notes：　“The　cult　of　domesticity　may　have　become　culturally　dominant　by　the　midnineteenth　century”　(118).

The　“cult　of　domesticity”　is　sometimes　referred　to　as　“the　cult　of　true　womanhood”.　In　Women　in　the　United　States，　1830—1945，　S.J.Kleinberg　explains　the　ideology　of　the　cult　of　true　womanhood　as　follows：　Sarah　Josepha　Hale，　editor　and　author，　celebrated　the　differences　between　women　and　men　in　her　1845　poem，　“Empire　of　Woman”，　designating　the　“outward　world”　for　men　and　reserving　the　holier　empire　of　wife　and　motherhood　for　women.　The　proliferation　of　this　type　of　domestic　prose　and　fiction　fostered　what　historian　Barbara　Welter　described　as　the　cult　of　true　womanhood，　a　belief　in　the　home　as　womans　natural　place　and　the　family　as　her　paramount　interest.　The　household　became　the　middleclass　womans　holy　sphere；　she　lived　through　it　and　for　it...　Pious，　pure，　submissive，　and　domestic，　they，　rather　than　their　husbands，　had　the　responsibility　of　raising　the　future　generation.　(Kleinberg　38)Similar　to　S.J.Kleinberg，　in　Changing　American　Families，　Judy　Aulette　also　notes　that　“[b]etween　1820　and　1860,　a　new　definition　of　womanhood　emerged　and　was　widely　disseminated　in　popular　magazines，　novels，　and　religious　literature　and　sermons...　According　to　advice　manuals,　true　women　were　to　be　judged　by　four　virtues：　piety，　purity，　submissiveness，　and　domesticity”　(3436).　Aulette　explains　that　in　the　midnineteenth　century，　American　women　were　encouraged　to　adhere　to　the　four　virtues　mentioned　in　the　“cult　of　true　womanhood”　so　as　to　bring　happiness　both　to　themselves　and　society　as　a　whole.　Glenna　Matthews　also　points　out　that　in　the　midnineteenthcentury　America，　there　was　an　outpouring　of　novels　in　which　“housewives　[were]　figured　in　highly　positive　terms”　(6)，　which　helped　to　spread　and　foster　the　notion　of　the　“cult　of　domesticity”　or　the　“cult　of　true　womanhood”.

Lora　Romero　states　that　for　novels　written　by　women　in　midnineteenth　century　America，　there　can　be　a　variety　of　terms　to　describe　them，　such　as　“the　sentimental　novel，　the　female　Bildungsroman，　the　domestic　novel”　(110).　Among　these　domestic　novels，　Nina　Baym　in　“The　Rise　of　the　Woman　Author”　points　out　that　many　of　them　were　quite　popular　in　the　market.　One　of　the　exceptions，　however，　was　Elizabeth　Stoddard：　“[a]　writer　who　did　not　attain　popularity，　probably　because　her　work　disregarded　certain　formulaic　requirements　of　typical　womens　fiction，　was　Elizabeth　Stoddard，　whose　novel　The　Morgesons　(1862)　is　a　striking　work　of　gloomy　local　color，　harsh　and　revealing　in　its　depiction　of　New　England　life”　(Baym　302—303).　Baym　here　observes　an　important　feature　in　Elizabeth　Stoddards　works，　i.e.　she　did　not　follow　the　conventional　“formulaic　requirements”　of　womens　domestic　fictions.　To　put　it　another　way，　Stoddard　did　not　adhere　to　the　notion　of　Victorian　American　femininity　or　the　cult　of　true　womanhood　in　her　works；　rather，　she　challenged　the　ideology　of　domesticity　in　her　writing，　which　may　have　resulted　in　the　neglect　of　her　works.

Elizabeth　Stoddards　novels　were　reprinted　twice　in　her　life　time，　but　she　did　not　receive　commercial　success　with　any　of　her　books，　nor　had　she　received　much　serious　attention　from　critics　either.　She　therefore　was　frustrated　and　bitter.　After　her　death，　Stoddard　still　remained　mostly　ignored　and　forgotten.　Jennifer　Putzi　notes：　“For　more　than　eighty　years　after　her　death　in　1902，　Stoddard　remained　a　footnote　in　American　literary　history—that　is，　when　she　was　remembered　at　all”　(xiv).　Robert　McClure　Smith　and　Ellen　Weinauer　also　point　out：　“there　has　been　no　significant，　defining　article　about　her　in　a　major　journal　in　the　field　such　as　American　Literature　or　American　Literary　history.　There　is　little　wonder，　therefore，　that　such　‘mainstream’　publications　as　the　Columbia　Literary　History　of　the　United　States　(1988)　and　the　Columbia　Literary　History　of　the　American　Novel　(1991)　offer　Stoddard　only　the　most　cursory　mention，　often　in　passing”　(6).　It　was　until　the　1980s　that　Elizabeth　Stoddard　and　her　works　were　reintroduced　to　scholars　and　students，　and　in　the　latest　edition　of　The　Norton　Anthology　of　American　Literature　(2008)，　Stoddard　is　listed　among　other　canonical　writers，　such　as　Emily　Dickinson　and　Herman　Melville.

The　aim　of　the　chapter　is　to　answer　three　major　questions　in　relation　to　the　idea　of　female　entrapment.　First，　by　using　both　critical　and　Stoddards　own　works，　I　would　like　to　explore　whether　Stoddard，　as　a　woman　author，　felt　entrapped　in　her　life　in　regard　to　her　goal　of　achieving　artisthood.　Second，　I　will　examine　various　forms　of　entrapment　imposed　on　women　characters　in　her　novel　The　Morgesons.　Finally，　I　will　look　for　the　solutions　offered　in　the　novel　to　free　women　characters　from　their　entrapment.　In　this　chapter，　it　is　argued　that　Elizabeth　Stoddard　inhabits　an　important　but　often　overlooked　place　in　the　reaction　against　the　“cult　of　domesticity”.　She　is　therefore　an　overlooked　figure　who　both　questions　and　challenges　this　midnineteenth　century　discourse　on　the　ideology　of　domesticity.　The　three　questions　mentioned　above　will　allow　us　to　better　understand　the　literary　theme　of　female　entrapment　in　midnineteenthcentury　America.

Ⅰ.　Stoddard　and　the　Anxiety　of

Female　AuthorshipThis　section　aims　at　answering　the　first　question：　has　Stoddard，　as　a　woman　author，　ever　felt　entrapped　in　her　life　in　regard　to　her　goal　of　achieving　artisthood?Gubar　and　Gilbert　emphasize　the　link　between　women　authors　private　lives　and　their　literary　works.　They　argue　that　since　“Western　literary　history　is　overwhelmingly　male—or，　more　accurately，　patriarchal”　(47)，　women　writers　of　the　nineteenth　century　often　had　to　struggle　to　preserve　their　independent　wills　and　creativity.　It　is　not　surprising　that　some　of　the　women　writers　project　their　own　sense　of　entrapment　and　anxiety　onto　their　female　characters　in　their　literary　works.　Gubar　and　Gilbert　therefore　adopt　the　phrase　of　“anxiety　of　female　authorship”，　and　stress　that　such　anxiety　is　“profoundly　debilitating”　(51)　to　both　the　writers　and　their　creativity.　This　section　of　the　chapter　asks　has　Elizabeth　Stoddard，　who　was　a　predecessor　of　Kate　Chopin　and　Edith　Wharton，　ever　felt　entrapped　in　regard　to　her　goal　of　achieving　artisthood?“achieving　artisthood”　here　refers　to　becoming　a　writer　with　literary　recognition.　Has　she　ever　projected　her　own　feelings　of　anxiety　and　entrapment　onto　her　literary　creations?

In　this　chapter，　Stoddards　personal　quest　and　struggle　for　her　goal　of　artisthood　will　be　placed　in　the　context　of　the　literary　background　in　nineteenthcentury　America　for　women　writers.　It　is　important　to　look　at　the　literary　background　of　nineteenthcentury　America　in　the　first　place，　as　it　lays　the　historical　foundation　for　introducing　the　two　other　women　writers，　i.e.　Kate　Chopin　and　Edith　Wharton，　as　well.　Compared　with　Kate　Chopin　and　Edith　Wharton　who　will　be　discussed　in　the　later　two　chapters，　Elizabeth　Stoddard　underwent　a　much　more　painful　struggle　for　her　dream　of　artisthood.　Since　the　rediscovery　of　Elizabeth　Stoddard　is　fairly　recent，Critics　began　to　turn　their　attention　to　Stoddard　around　1980s.　in　this　book　her　personal　quest　in　relation　to　the　issue　of　the　anxiety　of　female　authorship　will　be　looked　at　in　greater　depth.　Compared　with　Chopin　and　Wharton，　who　were　relatively　better　known　in　their　lifetimes，　and　who　had　suffered　less　in　their　endeavours　toward　artisthood，　in　this　section，　it　is　argued　that　Stoddard　fits　more　easily　into　the　image　of　a　woman　writer，　proposed　by　Gubar　and　Gilbert，　who　suffers　tremendous　pains　due　to　her　ambition　of　becoming　a　recognized　author　in　a　patriarchal　society.

In　nineteenthcentury　America,　women　writers　generally　had　not　received　enough　serious　attention　from　male　critics　and　reviewers.　They　were　expected　to　write　as　exemplars　of　their　own　sex，　but　not　as　representative　of　general　humanity.　In　Sisters　Choice，　Elaine　Showalter　notes：　“By　the　1850s，　indeed，　when　women　writers　were　producing　most　of　the　bestselling　fiction，　their　work　was　deplored　as　a　popular　dilution　of　a　truly　virile　American　art”　(12).　Walt　Whitman　wrote　in　the　Brooklyn　Daily　Times　in　1857：　“The　majority　of　people　do　not　want　their　daughters　trained　to　become　authoresses　and　poets.”Elaine　Showalter，　Sisters　Choice：　Tradition　and　Change　in　American　Womens　Writing，　12.　This　situation　had　its　historical　root　in　science.　Historian　Cynthia　Eagle　Russett　argues　that　“[s]cience　itself　was　androcentric　and　patriarchal.　It　did　not　go　to　the　aid　of　opponents　of　social　inequality；　it　was　a　key　source　of　that　opposition.”George　Cotkin，　Reluctant　Modernism：　American　Thought　and　Culture，　1880—1890，　76.　Owing　to　womens　weak　frames　and　biological　structure，　medical　establishments　of　the　eighteenth　and　nineteenth　centuries　insisted　that　women　were　deemed　unfit　to　pursue　serious　scholarship　and　creative　genius.　No　work　better，　or　more　vehemently，　used　science　to　define　the　debits　of　womens　education　than　Dr.　Edward　H.　Clarkes　Sex　in　Education；　or，　A　Fair　Chance　for　the　Girls　(1873)...　Borrowing　from　scientific　theories　on　the　conservation　of　energy　and　from　Herbert　Spencers　ideas　on　the　specialization　and　differentiation　of　function　associated　with　evolutionary　development，　Clarke　viewed　the　womb　as　the　center　of　womans　energy.　Too　much　energy　devoted　to　thought—especially　in　the　crucial　adolescent　period，　when　the　reproductive　system　was　not　fully　developed—undermined　womens　childbearing　powers　and　caused　a　host　of　debilitating　nervous　ailments.　(Cotkin　7677)The　view　that　women　were　biologically　unfit　for　writing　persisted　even　till　the　beginning　of　the　twentieth　century.　In　“Gender　and　Fiction”，　Elizabeth　Ammons　points　out　that　some　critics，　such　as　Frank　Norris，　in　early　twentieth　century　still　retained　the　notion　that　“women　lacked　the　physical　and　psychological　strength　necessary　for　the　creation　of　great　art”　(267).　It　would　not　be　surprising　that　when　women　writers　suffered　from　depression，　they　were　sometimes　blamed　for　their　ambitions　to　succeed　in　mens　fields.　One　cannot　ignore　the　significant　role　depression　played　in　womens　lives　in　nineteenthcentury　America　and　Britain.Elaine　Showalter　in　The　Female　Malady　points　to　the　significant　number　of　women　patients　in　public　lunatic　asylums　in　midnineteenth　century　in　English　society　(Showalter　3).　Stoddard，　and　some　of　the　women　writers　of　her　generation　such　as　Constance　Fenimore　Woolson，　and　her　successor，　Edith　Wharton，　all　suffered　from　depression.

The　idea　that　women　writers　cannot　attain　genius　is　also　partly　influenced　by　the　feminine　ideal　of　the　nineteenth　century.　Deborah　Barker　explains　that　in　the　nineteenth　century　there　was　the　view　that　laborious　learning　could　seriously　weaken　the　charm　a　woman　exercised　over　the　other　sex，　thus　making　her　undesirable　to　men.　“The　anxiety　generated　by　the　image　of　the　original　woman　artist　functioned　as　a　kind　of　metaphor　for　anxiety　over　womens　reproductive　and　creative　capacity...　Womens　independent　ability　to　create　original　works　could　be　construed　as　an　allegory　for　the　circumvention　of　the　male　role　in　procreation”　(Barker　38).　In　other　words，　there　was　the　apprehension　that　womens　creativity　may　endanger　or　subvert　the　patriarchal　order.　Womens　creativity　was　even　associated　with　a　degree　of　sexual　freedom　and　independence.　Consequently，　George　Sand　was　considered　an　inappropriate　model　for　American　women　writers　to　emulate.　In　fact　some　of　Sands　works　were　not　allowed　to　be　printed　in　America　for　a　while.

Broadly　speaking，　in　nineteenth　century　America，　men　still　possessed　far　more　privileges　than　women.　Male　writers　had　easier　access　to　education，　social　networks，　travel，　economic　freedom，　etc.　For　example，　it　was　not　until　the　midnineteenth　century　that　the　American　higher　education　system　finally　started　to　offer　opportunities　for　women.“But　during　the　Civil　War，　when　Congress　funded　higher　education　through　the　Morrill　Act，　a　new　spurt　of　coeducation　began.　By　1870，　eight　state　universities，　mainly　in　the　West　and　Midwest，　admitted　women”　(Woloch　276).　Lacking　privileges　of　these　sorts，　women　writers　tended　to　believe　that　they　needed　to　suffer　in　order　to　succeed.　“They　[women　artists]　could　not　reach　the　immortal　crown　of　glory　until　they　have　suffered　the　earthly　crown　of　thorns”　(Boyd　128).　Stoddard　was　no　exception　to　this　belief.　She　believed　that　great　suffering　was　part　of　the　price　she　paid　for　immortality.　In　1854,　Stoddard　wrote　down　her　lament　for　the　lack　of　talented　women　writers　in　America：　“We　have　no　Elizabeth　Browning，　Bront，　George　Sand　or　Miss　Bremer，”Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Daily　Alta　California，　Oct.　22，　1854.　From　Anne　E.　Boyd，　Writing　for　Immortality：　Women　and　the　Emergence　of　High　Literary　Culture　in　America.　and　she　hoped　that　there　soon　could　be　American　counterparts.　One　needs　to　realize　that　the　field　of　American　women　writers　at　the　time　was　not　quite　as　barren　as　Stoddard　had　portrayed.　There　were　quite　a　few　American　women　writers　before　Stoddard　who　opened　and　paved　the　way　for　later　women　writers，　such　as　Margaret　Fuller，　Catherine　Maria　Sedgwick，　Harriet　Beecher　Stowe，　etc.

For　American　women　writers　before　the　Civil　War，　there　was　the　tendency　to　regard　themselves　as　mere　professionals　instead　of　artists.　Elizabeth　Ammons　notes：　“[t]o　be　sure，　most　popular　midnineteenthcentury　women　novelists　did　not　define　themselves　as　artists.　Typically，　they　protested　that　they　were　writing　merely　to　make　a　living；　they　emphasized　that　they　were　not　attempting　to　lay　claim　to　the　traditionally　male　province　of　high　art”　(271).　Stoddard，　however，　disagreed　with　this　trend　of　thinking，　and　she　was　not　alone.　Anne　E.　Boyd　notes：　“During　and　after　the　Civil　War，　however，　some　women　writers　began　to　view　authorship　differently，　namely　as　a　central　part　of　their　identities，　leading　to　the　development　of　new　ambitions　as　they　sought　to　fulfill　their　potential　as　artists”　(2).　Stoddard　stood　out　among　her　contemporaries　who　considered　themselves　as　merely　professionals，　whether　they　truly　thought　so　or　only　used　it　as　an　excuse　to　justify　their　writing　in　a　traditionally　maledominated　field.　Stoddard　clearly　defined　herself　as　an　artist.

Marriage　and　art　also　seemed　to　be　conflicting　pursuits　for　women　writers　before　and　during　Stoddards　generation.　Domestic　tasks　were　quite　burdensome　in　nineteenthcentury　America，　therefore，　there　is　little　wonder　that　few　women　would　have　the　time　or　strength　left　for　literary　pursuits.　Boyd　points　out　that　“[i]n　light　of　these　responsibilities，　marriage　and　motherhood　were　generally　viewed　as　the　endpoint　of　a　womans　development”　(66).　In　Democracy　in　America　(1840)，　Alexis　de　Tocqueville　summarizes　the　condition　of　American　women　in　the　nineteenth　century　as　follows：　“In　America　the　independence　of　woman　is　irrevocably　lost　in　the　bonds　of　matrimony：　if　an　unmarried　woman　is　less　constrained　there　than　elsewhere，　a　wife　is　subjected　to　stricter　obligations”　(165).　This　view　testifies　to　Simone　de　Beauvoirs　later　argument　on　marriage.　De　Beauvoir　describes　the　selfsacrifice　and　loss　of　independence　for　woman　in　marriage　as　follows：　“She　forgets　herself　in　favour　of　her　husband，　her　lover，　her　child；　she　ceases　to　think　of　herself，　she　is　pure　gift，　pure　offering”　(637).　Stoddards　personal　story　reiterates　the　conflict　between　art　and　marriage.　In　other　words，　marriage　poses　as　one　form　of　entrapment　on　Stoddards　pursuit　of　art，　a　theme　which　was　later　discussed　in　detail　by　Kate　Chopin.

It　is　important　to　look　at　Stoddards　personal　quest　for　her　dream　of　artisthood.　Stoddards　personal　life　reveals　her　search　and　struggle　on　her　way　toward　a　writing　career.　Her　own　experiences　had　influenced　her　writing，　and　shed　light　on　understanding　women　writers　of　her　generation　when　they　faced　the　same　issue.　Her　maiden　name　was　Elizabeth　Drew　Barstow.　She　was　born　in　a　small　coastal　town　of　Mattapoisett，　Massachusetts　on　May　6，　1823.　When　she　was　young，　she　studied　at　Wheaton　Seminary　in　Norton，　Massachusetts.　Later　in　her　life　Stoddard　described　her　hometown　as　barren　and　remote　from　culture　and　civilization，　but　she　used　it　as　the　background　for　her　novels　and　short　stories，　and　drew　inspiration　from　the　place.　Stoddards　stable　home　life　came　to　an　end　in　1849　when　one　of　her　sisters　and　her　mother　passed　away.　Stoddard　was　restless　at　the　time，　and　was　uncertain　how　her　life　path　should　develop.　Her　brothers　planned　to　go　to　California，　and　she　was　not　sure　if　she　should　follow　them　to　the　West　as　well.　In　1852　she　wrote　to　her　friend　Margaret　Sweat　that　she　also　possessed　“aspirations，”　but，　“What　is　there　for　such　women　as　you　and　me　are?　I　have　decided　that　an　irresistible　will　compels　me　to　some　destiny，　but　vaguely　shaped　yet　much　desired.”Elizabeth　Stoddards　letter　to　Margaret　Sweat，　July　20，　1852.　From　Anne　E.　Boyd，　Writing　for　Immortality：　Women　and　the　Emergence　of　High　Literary　Culture　in　America.Stoddard　visited　New　York　in　the　early　1850s.　She　attended　literary　gatherings　and　met　book　publishers，　journal　editors，　famous　writers，　including　her　future　husband，　Richard　Henry　Stoddard.　Stoddard　and　Richard　shared　their　common　love　for　books.　Richard　had　some　small　fame　as　poet　by　then，　but　Stoddard　had　not　begun　her　literary　career.　Nevertheless，　she　was　influenced　by　the　literary　atmosphere　in　New　York.　Under　the　influence　of　her　husband　and　his　circle　of　literary　friends，　Stoddard　began　to　write　poems　in　1853，　“much　of　which　was　well　received　and　published　in　such　venues　as　the　Atlantic　Monthly，　Harpers，　and　Putnams”　(Smith　and　Weinauer　4).　From　1854　to　1858，　she　wrote　columns　for　a　San　Francisco　newspaper　Daily　Alta　California.　Stoddard　had　written　short　stories　for　magazines　between　1860　and　the　early　1890s.　Between　1862　and　1867，　in　particular，　she　published　three　novels.　Among　them，　The　Morgesons　(1862)，　was　her　first　and　best　known　novel.

In　her　book　Writing　for　Immortality，　Anne　Boyd　notes　how　postbellum　women　writers　such　as　Stoddard，　Alcott，　Phelps，　and　Woolson　tried　to　figure　out　how　to　live　their　lives　as　artists　while　facing　issues　such　as　domesticity，　marriage，　motherhood，　and　selfsacrifice.　Boyd　argues　that　in　spite　of　their　many　obligations　as　women，　these　women　writers　carved　out　the　time　and　space　necessary　for　writing　in　their　lives.　Marriage　with　Richard　Stoddard　initially　opened　a　window　of　literary　opportunities　for　Elizabeth　Stoddard；　however，　domestic　responsibilities，　having　children　in　particular，　interfered　severely　with　her　writing.　Stoddard　could　not　have，　what　Virginia　Woolf　later　suggests，　a　room　of　her　own.　Due　to　financial　reasons　the　family　had　moved　frequently，　creating　domestic　upheavals　each　time，　which　further　added　to　the　stress　for　Stoddard.　Stoddard　made　attempts　at　gaining　solitude　for　her　writing.　For　example，　she　sometimes　retreated　to　her　hometown　for　a　short　stay　to　be　alone　for　her　writing.　She　tried　to　carve　out　the　time　and　space　needed　to　finish　her　novel　amid　housework.　In　one　of　the　letters　she　wrote　to　her　husband：　“At　any　rate　have　a　woman　there　to　help　me.　I　am　never　going　to　do　any　more　housework　if　I　can　help　it，　I　am　an　AUTHOR.”Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Daily　Alta　California，　Oct.　8，　1854.　The　letter　clearly　indicated　her　frustration　at　the　conflict　between　her　married　life　and　writing.

Stoddard　wrote　several　poems　on　the　theme　of　suffering　and　pains.　In　her　poem　“I　Love　You，　But　A　Sense　Of　Pain”，　Stoddard　questions：　“It　is　a　womans　province，　then，　\/　To　be　content　with　what　has　been?　\/　To　wear　the　wreath　of　withered　flowers，　\/　That　crowned　her　in　the　bridal　hours?　\/　Still，　I　am　ours：　this　idle　strife　\/　Stirs　but　the　surface　of　my　life：”　(22).Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Poems，　22.　Stoddard　talks　about　womans　struggle，　restlessness　and　pain　when　she　desires　more　in　life.　In　another　poem　“Nameless　Pain”，　Stoddard　again　questions　if　marriage　and　domesticity　are　enough　for　womans　growth.　I　should　be　happy　with　my　lot：

A　wife　and　mother—is　it　not

Enough　for　me　to　be　content：

What　other　blessing　could　be　sent?A　quiet　house，　and　homely　ways，

That　make　each　day　like　other　days；

I　only　see　Times　shadow　now

Darken　the　hair　on　babys　brow!

...

I　read　the　poets　of　the　age，

‘Tis　lotuseating　in　a　cage；

I　study　Art，　but　Art　is　dead

To　one　who　clamors　to　be　fedWith　milk　from　Natures　rugged　breast，

Who　longs　for　Labors　lusty　rest.

O　foolish　wish!　I　still　should　pine

If　any　other　lot　were　mine.　(23)Stoddard　tries　to　convince　herself　that　she　should　be　content　with　her　marriage，　but　at　the　same　time，　she　realizes　that　marriage　is　not　enough　for　her.　She　is　bored　of　the　monotonous　repetition　of　domesticity.　Boyd　points　out　that　Stoddards　“sense　of　commitment　to　self　and　resistance　to　domestic　encumbrance　were　at　odds　with　her　belief　that　she　should　be　content　as　a　mother　and　wife”　(77).　Stoddard　is　torn　between　her　aspiration　and　ambition　to　be　a　writer，　and　her　duty　as　wife　and　mother.　She　felt　that　she　was　pulled　in　two　directions：　“toward　solitude，　selfknowledge，　selfreliance，　and　the　power　of　creativity，　on　the　one　hand，　and　toward　her　family　and　wifely　duties　on　the　other”　(Boyd　78).　Different　from　some　of　the　women　writers　of　her　generation，　Alcott，　for　example，　who　chose　singlehood　for　the　sake　of　her　artistic　development，　Stoddard　tried　to　combine　the　artist　life　and　wifehood　together.　She　therefore　had　to　face　the　constant　conflict，　and　had　to　give　up　serious　writing　in　the　end.

Almost　throughout　her　entire　life，　Stoddard　had　to　struggle　with　selfdoubt　and　selfworth.　She　wavered　between　doubts　about　her　ability　and　her　dream　of　becoming　a　great　writer.　Early　in　her　marriage　she　had　low　expectations　for　herself.　In　her　letter　to　her　friend　Margaret　Sweat，　she　confessed　that　she　thought　she　could　not　be　very　intellectual　since　she　had　to　bury　herself　in　housekeeping.　However，　she　was　not　satisfied　to　be　solely　immersed　in　domesticity，　and　complained　of　the　lack　of　mental　stimulation　in　her　life：　“What　shall　I　do　to　satisfy　my　intellect?　The　devices　that　fill　our　woman　life　are　nothing　to　me.　I　chafe　horribly　when　S.　leaves　me　to　go　into　the　world　of　men.　While　I　remain　under　cover　waiting　for　him.”Elizabeth　Stoddards　letters　to　Margaret　Sweat　in　1852　and　1853.　From　Writing　for　Immortality：　Women　and　the　Emergence　of　High　Literary　Culture　in　America.　Clearly　the　role　of　wife　was　not　enough　to　satiate　the　hunger　in　her　life，　and　she　longed　for　creativity　and　stimulation.　Richard　encouraged　and　tutored　Stoddard　to　write　poems.　His　literary　friends　also　had　an　impact　on　her.　Stoddards　marriage　had　in　some　ways　provided　her　with　a　supportive　and　literary　atmosphere　not　found　at　her　parents　home.　Boyd　notes　that　Richard　gave　Stoddard　“some　encouragement，　space，　and　time　in　which　to　practice　her　writing”　(58).　However，　the　conflict　between　the　roles　of　wife　and　author　existed　and　continued.　Stoddard　tried　hard　to　combine　her　roles　of　wife，　mother，　and　author，　but　in　the　end　she　had　to　give　up　writing　and　devoted　herself　to　the　care　of　her　husband　and　son.

As　mentioned　earlier，　critics　in　the　nineteenth　century　were　almost　exclusively　male，　and　they　tended　not　to　take　women　writers　seriously.　Elizabeth　Ammons　notes　that　“American　women　writers　have　systematically　been　dismissed，　scattered，　ignored”　(111).　Stoddard　apparently　was　also　aware　of　this　situation.　She　wrote：　“No　criticism　assails　[women　writers].　Men　are　polite　to　the　woman，　and　contemptuous　to　the　intellect.　They　do　not　allow　woman　to　enter　their　intellectual　arena　to　do　battle　with　them.”Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Daily　Alta　California，　Oct.　22，　1854.　Stoddard　eagerly　hoped　to　join　in　the　literary　arena.　She　even　confessed　that　she　desired　to　be　compared　with　great　artists　such　as　Shakespeare，　Milton，　and　Dante.　In　other　words，　Stoddard　aspired　to　become　a　great　artist，　but　she　was　frustrated　that　critics　did　not　take　her　seriously　because　of　her　gender.

Stoddard　was　also　influenced　by　both　the　works　and　biographies　of　European　women　writers.　She　considered　George　Sand　“a　true　prophet　of　what　a　woman　can　be.”Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Daily　Alta　California，　June　19，　1855.　She　especially　admired　Charlotte　Bront　for　her　powerful　pen　and　brilliant　intellect.　Stoddard　told　her　readers　in　her　Daily　Alta　California　column　that　she　always　had　“a　Jane　Eyre　mania.”Ibid，　June　2，　1857.　It　is　not　surprising　that　several　critics　think　that　The　Morgesons　was　inspired　partly　by　Jane　Eyre.

Stoddard　also　attached　great　importance　to　economic　independence　in　her　career　of　writing.　Some　of　the　women　writers　before　and　in　Stoddards　time　had　struggled　with　the　sense　of　selfdenial；　however，　it　never　appeared　to　be　the　case　for　Stoddard.　Early　in　her　career，　she　was　thrilled　when　she　was　contracted　as　a　columnist：　“I　was　the　first　female　wageearner　that　I　had　known，　and　it　gave　me　a　curious　sense　of　independence”　(Boyd　41).　Stoddards　reaction　fits　nicely　into　later　Virginia　Woolfs　argument　of　economic　independence　for　women　writers.　In　A　Room　of　Ones　Own，　the　ownership　of　room　or　space　implies　economic　freedom：　And　women　have　always　been　poor，　not　for　two　hundred　years　merely，　but　from　the　beginning　of　time.　Women　have　had　less　intellectual　freedom　than　the　sons　of　Athenian　slaves.　Women，　then，　have　not　had　a　dogs　chance　of　writing　poetry.　That　is　why　I　have　laid　so　much　stress　on　money　and　a　room　of　ones　own.　(163)Woolf　considers　economic　freedom　as　the　fundamental　prerequisite　for　creating　educational　opportunity　and　advancing　literary　achievement　for　women　writers.　The　aim　of　supporting　herself　financially　also　motivated　Stoddard　to　continue　her　writing　career.

As　mentioned　earlier，　sadly　though　Stoddards　novels　were　reprinted　twice　in　her　life　time，　she　did　not　receive　commercial　success　with　any　of　her　books，　nor　had　she　received　much　serious　attention　from　critics　either.　In　A　Room　of　Ones　Own，　Virginia　Woolf　notes　the　hostility　women　writers　in　the　past　often　had　to　face　as　follows：　“The　indifference　of　the　world　which　Keats　and　Flaubert　and　other　men　of　genius　have　found　so　hard　to　bear　was　in　her　case　not　indifference　but　hostility...　the　World　said　with　a　guffaw，　Write?　Whats　the　good　of　your　writing?”　(79).　In　a　letter　to　a　friend　in　1888，　Stoddard　lamented：　“I　would　laugh　bitterly　when　I　think　how　I　have　been　ignored，　how　often　in　the　presence　of　those　who　have　been　lionized　whom　I　knew　were　not　my　superiors　I　have　been　passed　over　and　unnoticed.　I　have　almost　been　crushed”　(Putzi　xx).　According　to　Jennifer　Putzi，　Stoddard　was　quite　demanding　of　her　male　writer　friends.　She　would　even　cut　off　her　male　literary　friends　who　disrespected　her　artistic　worth.　Stoddard　desired　the　attention　and　appreciation　from　serious　and　famous　critics　and　writers　to　confirm　her　literary　worth；　however，　she　was　saddened　by　the　lack　of　recognition　of　her　literary　merit　and　the　failure　to　become　accepted　as　an　equal　among　her　male　peers.

The　story　of　Elizabeth　Stoddards　literary　quest　confirms　Gubars　and　Gilberts　explanation.　Gubar　and　Gilbert　note　that　for　women　writers　in　the　nineteenth　century，　“[i]f　she　refused　to　be　modest，　selfdeprecating，　subservient，　refused　to　present　her　artistic　productions　as　mere　trifles　designed　to　divert　and　distract　readers　in　moments　of　idleness，　she　could　expect　to　be　ignored　or　(sometimes　scurrilously)　attacked”　(6162).　In　the　later　part　of　Stoddards　life，　she　gave　up　writing　and　devoted　herself　primarily　to　the　care　of　her　husband　and　son.　Although　she　did　not　give　up　writing　completely，　she　never　devoted　herself　again　to　the　serious　and　passionate　pursuit　of　novel　writing.　There　could　have　been　several　explanations　for　the　silence　of　her　pen，　such　as　her　family　obligations，　self　doubts　of　her　literary　ability，　etc.　Boyd　thinks　that　“[w]hile　personal　factors　also　played　a　role，　it　is　clear　that　critical　neglect，　especially　in　the　absence　of　popular　acclaim，　stifled　her”　(233).　Her　explanation　fits　into　Gilbert　and　Gubars　argument　that　the　lack　of　space　for　literary　creativity　confines　a　number　of　women　writers：　“[T]he　literature　produced　by　women　confronted　with　such　anxietyinducing　choices　has　been　strongly　marked　not　only　by　an　obsessive　interest　in　these　limited　options　but　also　by　obsessive　imagery　of　confinement　that　reveals　the　ways　in　which　female　artists　feel　trapped　and　sickened　both　by　suffocating　alternatives　and　by　the　culture　that　created　them”　(64).　Gilbert　and　Gubar　suggest　that　the　ensuing　silence　on　the　part　of　women　writers　becomes　both　a　result　of　and　a　defence　against　the　lack　of　literary　space　and　opportunities.

Critics　tend　to　find　Stoddards　writing　style　difficult　to　categorize.　Putzi　notes：　“Stoddards　artistic　‘constitution’　was　certainly　distinct　from　that　of　any　other　writer　of　the　nineteenth　century，　male　or　female，　and，　as　several　scholars　have　noted，　it　is　impossible　(and　indeed　unproductive)　to　reduce　her　body　of　work　to　any　single　literary　movement　or　style.　She　was　neither　a　strictly　romantic　nor　a　strictly　realistic　writer，　a　sentimentalist　nor　a　regionalist；　rather，　she　took　advantage　of　shifting　American　literary　tastes　to　craft　a　different　kind　of　narrative　fiction”　(Putzi　xii).　Because　of　the　difficulty　of　categorizing　Stoddards　writing　style，　she　was　put　aside　and　ignored.　However，　Putzi　points　out，　such　a　fate　rarely　befalls　a　male　writer　whose　writing　style　may　equally　be　difficult　to　summarize，　for　instance，　Herman　Melville.　In　The　(Other)　American　Traditions：　NineteenthCentury　Women　Writers，　Joyce　Warren　expresses　a　similar　view：　“As　long　as　we　continue　to　regard　the　works　of　nineteenthcentury　American　women　writers　as　valuable　only　in　terms　of　their　usefulness　to　the　canonized　male　authors，　we　are　regarding　them　in　the　same　way　that　women　themselves　were　regarded　in　nineteenthcentury　American　society”　(15).　She　argues　that　each　piece　of　literary　work　carries　its　own　weight，　and　should　not　always　be　compared　with　usefulness　to　other　authors.

Critics　have　pointed　out　the　connection　between　The　Morgesons　and　Stoddards　personal　life.　Putzi　believes　that　the　novel　was　loosely　based　on　the　authors　early　life.　To　put　it　another　way，　The　Morgesons　can　be　understood　as　semiautobiographical　to　some　extent.　Stoddard　has　created　a　strong　woman　character　in　Cassandra　Morgeson　with　her　quest　for　autonomy　and　identity，　and　she　also　describes　the　woman　characters　experience　of　confinement　and　frustration　along　the　way，　which　in　some　way　mirrors　the　authors　own　sense　of　entrapment　and　struggle　on　her　own　the　similar　journey.

In　conclusion，　Stoddard　suffers　painfully　from　the　anxiety　of　female　authorship　suggested　by　Gubar　and　Gilbert.　She　has　serious　doubts　about　her　own　literary　worth.　Due　to　the　cold　reception　of　her　works　as　well　as　domestic　obligations，　she　eventually　gives　up　her　ambition　and　dream　of　being　a　great　artist.　Her　experience　shows　the　painful　compromises　women　writers　have　to　make　in　struggling　to　uphold　their　creativity　in　the　face　of　domestic　obligations　and　societal　pressures.　In　other　words，　Elizabeth　Stoddards　experience　strongly　confirms　Gubars　and　Gilberts　argument　about　the　entrapment　of　women　writers　in　midnineteenthcentury　America.

Ⅱ.　Multifaceted　Forms　of　Female

Entrapment　in　The　MorgesonsThis　section　aims　at　answering　the　second　question：　what　are　the　forms　of　entrapment　imposed　on　the　women　characters　in　the　novel　The　Morgesons?　As　mentioned　earlier，　this　chapter　looks　at　female　entrapment　mainly　from　the　perspective　of　the　ideologies　of　femininity　and　domesticity　in　the　midnineteenth　century　America.　In　this　chapter，　the　suffocating　sense　of　entrapment　will　be　explored　in　terms　of　the　public　and　the　private　spheres.I　will　explain　the　private　sphere　in　a　later　section　starting　from　p.48.　In　this　section，　the　relationship　between　the　public　sphere　and　female　entrapment　will　be　looked　at　in　terms　of　the　notion　of　“a　room　of　ones　own”—an　idea　introduced　into　the　feminist　vocabulary　by　Virginia　Woolf.　The　phrase　“a　room　of　ones　own”　in　this　section　is　used　to　focus　on　aspects　of　cultural　enrichment　instead　of　financial　security.　In　A　Room　of　Ones　Own，　while　stressing　the　importance　of　economic　independence　for　women，　Virginia　Woolf　also　emphasizes　the　lack　of　educational　opportunities　and　cultural　stimuli　for　women.　She　gives　the　example　of　a　fictional　Shakespeares　sister　who　is　encouraged　by　her　parents　and　the　conventions　in　the　patriarchal　society　to　learn　cooking　and　sewing　rather　than　pursuing　an　acting　career.　Woolf　laments：　“and　the　reading，　even　in　the　nineteenth　century，　must　have　lowered　her　vitality，　and　told　profoundly　upon　her　work...　Her　mind　must　have　been　strained　and　her　vitality　lowered　by　the　need　of　opposing　this，　of　disproving　that”　(8283).　In　The　Morgesons，　the　protagonist　is　also　entrapped　by　the　patriarchal　and　barren　culture　she　lives　in，　and　longs　for　liberty　outside　the　domestic　world.　She　does　not　fit　into　the　puritanical　and　domestic　household　to　which　she　is　supposed　to　belong，　and　finds　her　life　colourless　and　stifling.

Public　Sphere　(A　Room　of　Ones　Own)　and　Entrapment

The　Morgesons　is　considered　by　some　as　a　novel　on　womans　growth.　It　centres　on　the　growth　of　its　protagonist，　Cassandra　Morgeson.　Cassandras　growth　can　be　divided　into　three　parts：　childhood，　girlhood　and　womanhood.　The　changes　of　time　and　space　have　marked　and　facilitated　her　growth.　The　novel　is　written　in　first　person　narration.　As　the　novel　is　considered　semiautobiographical，　the　authors　own　life　will　also　be　examined　and　paralleled　with　that　of　the　heroine　when　analysing　the　novel.

The　story　begins　when　Cassandra　Morgeson　is　around　ten　years　old，　living　in　the　New　England　Village　of　Surrey，　which　“was　situated　on　an　inlet　of　a　large　bay　that　opened　into　the　Atlantic”　(7).Elizabeth　Stoddard，　The　Morgesons　and　Other　Writings，　7.　Surrey　resembles　Stoddards　hometown，　a　place　barren　of　culture.　The　way　Stoddard　describes　the　place　reminds　readers　of　the　Moor　in　Wuthering　Heights.　“When　an　easterly　wind　prevailed，　the　coast　resounded　with　the　bellowing　sea，　which　brought　us　tidings　from　those　inaccessible　spots.　We　heard　its　roar　as　it　leaped　over　the　rocks　on　Gloster　Point，　and　its　long，　unbroken　wail　when　it　rolled　in　on　Whitefoot　Beach”　(8).　The　family　is　described　as　puritanical，　and　lacks　the　“tradition　of　any　individuality”　(8).　Cassandras　father　is　rigidly　pious.　His　two　daughters，　Cassandra　and　Veronica，　however，　are　full　of　individuality.　In　Puritan　Influences　in　American　Literature，　Emory　Elliott　stresses　that　there　is　the　need　to　fully　comprehend　New　England　Puritanism，Elliott　explains　the　New　England　Puritanism　as　follows：　“For　puritans　the　establishment　of　the　New　England　colony　was　a　sign　that　the　world　had　entered　into　the　last　phase　of　history　and　that　the　people　of　New　England　were　fulfilling　the　biblical　prophecy　by　establishing　the　New　Jerusalem.　Their　dream　of　America　was　the　establishment　of　a　perfecting　society　which　would　come　to　coincide　with　the　invisible　Church　of　Gods　chosen　on　earth，　and　thus　prepare　the　way　for　the　Second　Coming　of　Christ”　(Elliott　xiv).　due　to　its　“pervasive　presence　in　American　literature　and　culture”　(xii).　The　novel，　The　Morgesons，　is　no　exception，　as　it　is　also　set　against　the　backdrop　of　New　England　Puritanism.

Cassandra　Morgeson　(Cassy)is　naughty　and　rebellious　since　childhood.　She　cannot　identify　with　the　puritanical　culture　she　is　raised　up　in.　“She　[Cassy]　grew　up　with　an　assertive，　independent，　rather　abrasive　character.　Her　free　spirit　and　lack　of　reverence　for　traditional　ways　inevitably　clashed　with　the　latterday　Puritanism　still　dominant　in　the　region”　(Matlack　279).　The　naughty　and　rebellious　side　of　her　character　bears　some　resemblance　to　the　character　of　little　Catherine　in　Wuthering　Heights.This　can　be　another　example　of　the　Bront　sisters　influence　on　Stoddard.　Aunt　Mercy　considers　Cassy　“possessed”　(1).　Cassy　reads　“unprofitable”　books　(books　other　than　the　Holy　Bible).　When　her　aunt　tries　to　read　the　words　from　the　Bible，　Cassandra　puts　her　hands　over　her　ears，　and　“looked　defiantly　round　the　room”　(6).　She　finds　the　religious　atmosphere　in　her　mothers　winter　room　“oppressive”　(6)，　and　longs　to　get　out.　Cassandra　defies　authority　from　early　on.　For　instance，　she　misbehaves　purposely　at　school　in　order　to　be　expelled.　The　characterization　of　Cassy　also　reminds　one　of　Jane　in　Jane　Eyre.　Jane　is　also　not　interested　in　the　Psalms　of　the　church　and　feels　restless　and　entrapped　at　school：　“I　tired　of　the　routine　of　eight　years　in　one　afternoon.　I　desired　liberty；　for　liberty　I　gasped；　for　liberty　I　uttered　a　prayer”　(Brontё　81).　Both　Cassandra　and　Jane　long　for　liberty　outside　their　narrow　living　space.　Pointing　to　the　confinement　of　what　she　calls　“the　feminized　space”，　Lynn　Mahoney　states　that　“[d]isturbed　by　the　evangelical　bent　of　her　female　relatives，　Cass　finds　feminized　space　equally　onerous”：　Virtually　all　the　sites　of　Casss　early　rebellions　are　female　spaces—the　kitchen，　the　school，　and　her　“mothers　winterroom.”...　In　her　introductory　chapters，　Stoddard　familiarized　her　readers　with　key　themes—the　development　of　the　rebellious　Cassandra，　religion　and　feminine　influence，　and　the　domestic　world　of　nineteenthcentury　middleclass　women—which　dominate　the　rest　of　the　novel.　(37)Cassandra　does　not　identify　with　the　puritanical　environment　of　her　family　and　community，　nor　is　she　comfortable　with　the　feminine　domestic　world　at　either　home　or　school.

The　creation　of　the　character，　Cassandra，　shares　other　similarities　with　the　authors　own　childhood.　Stoddard　was　independent　and　wilful　when　she　was　a　child.　She　enjoyed　novel　reading　and　walking　by　the　sea　more　than　other　more　appropriate　pursuits　such　as　sewing　or　reading　the　Bible.　Stoddard　later　recorded：　“[R]eading　had　been　laid　up　against　me　as　a　persistent　fault，　which　was　not　profitable；　I　should　peruse　moral，　and　pious　works，　or　take　up　sewing，—that　interminable　thing，　“white　seam”，　which　filled　the　leisure　moments　of　the　rightminded.”Elizabeth　Stoddard，　1901　Preface，　The　Morgesons，　259.　Although　one　cannot　look　entirely　into　Stoddards　biography　to　explain　the　creation　of　Cassandra，　Stoddards　personal　life　does　shed　light　on　the　emotions　of　her　major　characters　and　the　social　backgroundThe　Morgesons　was　published　during　the　American　Civil　War；　however，　Stoddard　hardly　mentions　the　war　in　the　novel.　She　was　therefore　criticized　for　not　closely　following　the　major　event　of　her　time.　in　The　Morgesons.

Although　set　in　the　puritanical　background　of　New　England　in　the　midnineteenth　century，　the　protagonist　remains　impervious　to　religion.　She　tells　the　minister：　“I　do　not　want　rest；　I　have　no　burden”　(48).　Cassandras　attitude　toward　religion　bears　a　resemblance　to　Stoddards　own　life.　Stoddard　had　problems　with　organized　religion.　In　The　Protestant　Ethic　and　the　Spirit　of　Capitalism　(1905)，　Max　Weber，　on　the　one　hand，　points　out　the　social　qualities　of　churches　and　sects“In　seventeenth　and　eighteenthcentury　America，　Baptists，　Quakers，　Methodists，　Mennonites，　and　Presbyterians　all　constituted...　sects”　(Weber　171).　in　North　America：　“He　who　stands　outside　of　the　church　has　no　social　‘connection’”　(200)；　on　the　other　hand,　Weber　also　notes　the　“intense　conformity　pressures”　(174)　from　sects.　According　to　Anne　Boyd，　in　the　religiously　conservative　community　of　Mattapoisett，　Stoddard　was　resistant　to　organized　religion：　“She　disdained　the　church　her　mother　regularly　attended　and　she　refused　to　be　converted　when　a　revival　swept　up　her　fellow　students　at　Wheaton”　(55).　It　is　hard　to　discern　why　Stoddard　was　so　averse　to　organized　religion.　Is　it　because　she　was　doubtful　about　the　existence　of　God　or　that　she　simply　disliked　the　pressure　of　conformity　to　church　rules?　Concerning　the　religious　aspect　of　her　early　life，　Stoddard　wrote　in　1855：　“God，　my　teachers　said，　did　not　reside　in　the　natural　heart　of　man，　which　fact　I　must　learn　through　some　process　that　my　soul　refused　to　understand”　(Boyd　55).　In　her　poem　“O　Friend，　Begin　A　Loftier　Song.”，　she　writes：　“O　friend，　begin　a　loftier　song.　\/　Confusion　falls　upon　your　mind；　\/　A　sense　of　evil　makes　you　blind；　‘What　use，　’　you　say，　‘is　it　to　be?　\/　I　know　not　GOD，　GOD　knows　not　me!’”　(38).Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Poems，　38.　The　stanza　quoted　here　does　not　necessarily　reflect　Stoddards　or　her　friends　attitude　toward　God.　The　poem，　however，　implies　sadness　and　confusion　toward　youth　and　God.

The　restlessness　of　the　protagonist　and　her　longing　for　excitement　in　her　life　reminds　readers　of　the　protagonist，　Laura　Calton，　in　“Me　and　My　Son”，　a　short　story　by　Stoddard.　Similarly　to　Cassandra，　Laura　also　has　questions　about　life：　What　made　ordinary　people　contented，　she　wondered—those　who　read　no　novels，　had　few　new　dresses，　and　never　came　across　attractive　men?...　The　monotonous　life　which　surrounded　her　might　be　changed　for　a　city　life，　for　the　theater，　the　opera，　and　those　inevitable　engagements　she　supposed　one　must　have　in　entering　society　as　a　married　woman.　(202205)Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Stories，　202205.The　restlessness　shown　by　Laura　not　only　resembles　Cassandra　in　The　Morgesons，　but　also　reminds　one　of　Elizabeth　Stoddard　in　her　youth.　Stoddard　depicts　herself　as　“passionate，　chaotic，　and　strongwilled”　in　her　letter　to　her　friend　(Mahoney　6).　Stoddards　strong　passion　mirrors　that　of　the　romantics，　such　as　the　Bront　sisters.　Charlotte　Bront，　for　example，　complains　of　the　lack　of　passion　in　Jane　Austens　novels.Tom　Winnifrith，　Fallen　Women　in　the　NineteenthCentury　Novel，　31.　Mahoney　notes　that　similar　to　European　romantic　writers，　such　as　the　Bronts，　for　example，　Stoddard　is　also　interested　in　exploring　the　themes　of　alienation，　individualism　and　passion　in　her　writings.

The　protagonists　sense　of　entrapment　in　a　restricting　and　puritanical　household　is　further　demonstrated　in　her　experience　of　leaving　Surrey　against　her　wishes　and　attending　a　seminary　for　young　ladies　in　Barmouth.　Cassandra　finds　the　new　place　equally　barren　and　colourless.　She　compares　her　grandfathers　home　at　Barmouth　to　a　“casket”　(28)，　form　of　prison.　James　H.　Matlack　thinks　that　Cassandras　grandfather　“embodies　the　grim　aspects　of　the　Puritan　spirit”　and　“[l]ife　in　his　house　is　one　long　penance”　(292).　There　is　little　nourishment　for　Cassys　mind　at　Barmouth：　“My　filaments　found　no　nourishment，　creeping　between　the　two；　but　the　fibers　of　youth　are　strong，　and　they　do　not　perish”　(28).　Cassy　for　the　first　time　begins　to　be　aware　that　for　all　the　years　her　life　is　confined　to　home，　school，　and　the　church.　As　a　young　woman，　she　is　not　allowed　to　wander　alone　in　the　streets.　Without　invitation　from　friends，　Cassy　is　confined　to　the　garden　of　the　house.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　think　that　the　comparison　between　home　and　prison　is　not　rare　for　women　writers　and　their　female　characters　in　the　nineteenth　century：　“[A]lmost　all　nineteenthcentury　women　were　in　some　sense　imprisoned　in　mens　houses”　(83).　They　note　that　the　spatial　imagery　of　enclosure　and　escape　occur　frequently　in　womens　writing.　There　is　a　parallel　between　Cassandras　and　Stoddards　lives.　In　The　Morgesons，　Cassandra　repeatedly　chafes　at　the　restriction　of　physical，　cultural　and　emotional　space.　In　her　own　life，　Elizabeth　Stoddard　rejects　the　idea　that　domestic　tasks　should　be　her　main　occupation.　She　feels　restricted　in　the　traditional　feminine　sphere　as　well.　“Stoddard　and　Alcott，　especially，　felt　“moody”　and　illtempered，　not　sweet　and　cheerful，　as　girls　were　supposed　to　be.　They　noticed　that　their　sisters　possessed　sunny　dispositions　in　contrast　to　their　own”　(Boyd　40).　Cassandra　in　The　Morgesons　is　considered　“possessed”.　The　restlessness　in　both　Cassandra　and　Stoddard　is　suggestive　of　their　sense　of　entrapment　in　a　patriarchal　society.

In　the　novel　Stoddard　makes　it　clear　that　to　escape　from　domesticity　is　not　realistic　for　her　women　characters　in　the　background　of　midnineteenthcentury　America.　Elizabeth　Stockton　thinks　that　in　the　novel　Stoddard　“explores　one　familys　dependence　on　womens　labor　and　sense　of　duty”　(423).　Stockton　also　notes　that　Cassandras　mother，　Mary　Morgeson，　reflects　“one　aspect　of　the　nineteenth　century　domestic　ideal　in　her　performance　of　household　labor”　(424).　Although　Cassandra　finds　domestic　duties　confining，　she　cannot　escape　from　them.　After　her　mother　passes　away，　Cassandra　has　to　take　up　her　mothers　role　and　deals　with　domesticity.　She　promises　Aunt　Merce　that　she　will　“reign　and　serve”　over　the　household，　and　“give　up”　herself　(215)，　even　though　she　feels　trapped　in　Surrey　and　in　this　life：　“But　I　was　imprisoned　in　the　cage　of　Life—the　Keeper　would　not　let　me　go”　(211).　At　last　I　obtained　the　asylum　of　my　room，　in　an　irritable　frame　of　mind，　convinced　that　such　would　be　my　condition　each　day.　Composure　came　with　putting　my　drawers　and　shelves　in　order.　The　box　with　Desmonds　flowers　I　threw　into　the　fire，　without　opening　it，　ribbon　and　all，　for　I　could　not　endure　the　sight　of　them.　(217)Although　Cassandra　has　decided　to　sacrifice　her　self　for　the　family，　the　thirst　for　freedom　and　selfhood　cannot　be　easily　quenched，　as　she　tells　her　sister　Veronica：　“Everything　is　changed.　I　have　tried　to　be　as　steady　as　when　mother　was　here，　but　I　cannot；　I　whirl　with　a　vague　idea　of　liberty.　Did　she　keep　the　family　conscience?　Now　that　she　has　gone　I　feel　responsible　no　more”　(2189).　Elizabeth　Stockton　thinks　that　Stoddard　suggests　in　The　Morgesons　that　“[t]he　lure　of　duty　is　powerful　for　women...　even　though　such　selfsacrifice　is　painful　and　its　rewards　uncertain”　(426).　Even　though　Cassandra　voluntarily　agrees　to　cage　herself　and　overtake　the　domestic　duties　for　the　sake　of　her　family　members，　she　longs　for　liberty　at　heart.

The　subsequent　poverty　experienced　by　the　Morgeson　family　further　strengthens　the　confinement　on　the　part　of　Cassandra　toward　her　domestic　duties.　Cassandras　fathers　business　fails；　consequently，　the　family　becomes　poor.　Although　Cassandra　thinks　that　her　dream　of　freedom　is　over　and　that　her　life　will　remain　restricted　and　colourless，　she　realizes　that　she　needs　to　be　content　with　it.　My　life　was　coarse，　hard，　colorless!　I　lived　in　an　insignificant　country　village；　I　was　poor.　My　theories　had　failed；　my　practice　was　like　my　moods—variable.　But　I　concluded　that　if　today　would　go　on　without　bestowing　upon　me　sharp　pains，　depriving　me　of　sleep，　mutilating　me　with　an　accident，　or　sending　a　disaster　to　those　belonging　to　me，　I　would　be　content.　(233)Here　the　tone　of　the　narrative　voice　changes.　Cassandra　is　no　longer　the　wilful　and　rebellious　girl　of　the　past.　She　learns　the　hardship　of　life，　and　the　courage　and　endurance　it　requires.　Rather　than　the　rebellious　and　careless　tone　she　assumes　in　the　past，　here　Cassandra　sounds　humble　and　down　to　earth.　Even　Temperance，　the　maid　who　watches　Cassandra　grow　up，　finds　that　Cassys　character　and　attitude　toward　life　has　altered　very　much，　compared　with　the　rebellious　and　outspoken　girl　she　used　to　be.

On　the　themes　of　pain，　frustration　and　thwarted　dreams　for　women，　Stoddard　has　written　several　verses.　In　“THE　AUTUMN　SHEAF”，　Stoddard　writes：　“Though　many　seasons　of　the　falling　leaves　\/　I　watched　my　failing　hopes，　and　watched　their　fall；　\/　In　memory　they　are　gathered　now　like　sheaves，　\/　So　withered　that　a　touch　would　scatter　all”　(20).Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Poems，　20.　In　the　above　poem　the　persona　mourns　for　withered　hopes　and　dreams.　In　The　Morgesons　the　protagonist　is　also　disappointed　with　her　life：　“I　remain　this　year　the　same.　No　change，　no　growth　or　development!　The　fulfillment　of　duty　avails　me　nothing；　and　selfdiscipline　has　passed　the　necessary　point”　(243).　Stacy　Alaimo　thinks　that　“duty　and　discipline　have　hampered　her　[Cassandras]　growth，　not　encouraged　it”　(34).　The　inner　thoughts　of　the　protagonist　reveal　her　frustration　with　her　present　life　filled　with　domestic　duties.

Lynn　Mahoney　notes　that　Stoddard　does　not　hide　her　objection　to　the　conventional　ideal　of　womanhood.　Questioning　the　basic　values　of　Victorian　womanhood　such　as　its　emphasis　on　virtue　and　duty：　“Stoddard　asked　her　readers：　‘Is　virtue　agreeable?—is　duty　handsome?’　she　had　studied　this　image　of　womanhood　and　found　it　‘ugly’”　(Mahoney　18).　Stoddard　has　been　very　outspoken　and　forward　in　her　argument.　From　the　protagonists　early　repulsion　to　the　barren　domestic　world，　to　her　later　assuming　the　colourless　domestic　obligations　against　her　own　wish，　Elizabeth　Stoddard　shows　the　readers　the　possible　entrapment　women　of　middle　class　America　can　be　subjected　to　in　the　midnineteenth　century.

Private　Sphere　(the　Female　Body)　and　Entrapment

In　this　section　on　the　private　sphere，　I　will　mainly　look　at　the　female　body　and　entrapment.　In　The　Morgesons　Stoddards　view　of　the　female　body，　and　in　particular，　her　views　on　passion　and　hunger，　will　be　examined　in　relation　to　the　theme　of　female　entrapment.　Before　examining　the　themes　of　passion　and　hunger，　it　is　necessary　to　reiterate　the　main　idea　behind　the　cult　of　true　womanhood，　the　ideal　of　Victorian　femininity，　and　its　emphasis　on　the　female　body.　The　cult　of　true　womanhood　in　the　nineteenth　century　was　built　on　the　notions　of　four　principle　virtues：　piety，　purity，　submissiveness，　and　domesticity.　The　Victorian　notion　of　femininity　in　the　nineteenth　century　decrees　that　woman　should　be　“chaste，　delicate，　and　loving”　(SmithRosenberg　65).　The　ideal　Victorian　womanhood　is　considered　passionless　and　“asexual”　(Walters　65).　Moreover，　the　Victorian　culture　encourages　women　to　become　delicate　and　fragile.　Gubar　and　Gilbert　mentions：　“nineteenthcentury　culture　seems　to　have　actually　admonished　women　to　be　ill”　(54).　Regarding　the　relationship　between　the　female　body　and　entrapment，　feminist　critics　in　the　twentieth　century　have　offered　different　opinions.　In　The　Second　Sex，　de　Beauvoir　notes　the　ambivalence　with　which　a　woman　looks　at　her　body.　She　thinks　that　the　body　is　a　burden　for　a　woman：　“worn　away　in　service　to　the　species，　bleeding　each　month”　(630).　Susan　Bordo，　on　the　other　hand，　notes　the　positive　aspects　of　the　female　body.　She　thinks　that　the　experience　of　a　womans　control　over　her　own　body　can　be　“liberating”　(2365)，　and　can　enable　her　to　achieve　a　sense　of　selfhood.　In　other　words，　the　female　body　can　be　viewed　in　both　positive　and　negative　terms，　i.e.　the　female　body　can　be　both　liberating　and　confining.

Passion　and　Entrapment

In　The　Morgesons　the　author　seems　to　express　the　view　that　passion，　if　not　properly　dealt　with，　can　lead　to　entrapment　for　her　women　characters.　The　protagonist　experiences　illicit　passionIt　is　considered　“illicit　passion”　because　Cassandra　falls　for　a　married　man.　for　her　married　cousin，　Charles　Morgeson，　at　Rosville.　“His　[Charless]　face　was　serene，　dark，　and　delicate，　but　to　look　at　it　made　me　shiver”　(69).　Charles　is　also　attracted　by　Cassandras　brave　and　defiant　character.　Cassandra　is　initially　unclear　about　her　longing　and　desire，　but　at　the　same　time　her　passion　is　awakened：　“He　[Charles]　raised　his　strange，　intense　eyes　to　mine；　a　blinding，　intelligent　light　flowed　from　them　which　I　could　not　defy　nor　resist，　a　light　which　filled　my　veins　with　a　torrent　of　fire”　(86).　Stoddard　associates　the　quality　of　passion　with　“fire”.　Cassandra　since　then　has　become　passionate　about　Charles.　The　word　“fire”　not　only　suggests　the　intensity　of　emotions，　but　also　implies　the　disastrous　consequence　Cassandra　is　going　to　experience　later.

There　is　not　much　in　common　between　Cassy　and　Charles.　Cassy　thinks　that　Charles　or　Alice　never　read　anything　other　than　the　newspaper.　Therefore，　the　attraction　between　Cassy　and　Charles　is　hardly　intellectual.　Ben　Somers，　Cassys　friend，　tells　Cassy　that　he　thinks　Charles　is　a　“savage”：　“living　by　his　instincts，　with　one　element　of　civilization—he　loves　Beauty—beauty　like　yours”　(102).　The　brutality　of　Charles　toward　his　employees　and　horses　is　contrasted　with　his　love　for　fragile　flowers.　Cassys　friend，　Helen，　observes：　“The　same　blood　rages　in　both　of　you”　(110).　Sybil　Weir　thinks　that　“Stoddard　compared　Cassandra　to　a　spirited　untrained　horse　to　express　her　rebellion　against　her　repressive　society”　(432).　Cassandra　and　Charles　are　both　driven　by　their　instincts.　Passion　is　the　common　trait　between　them.

The　dialogue　between　Cassandra　and　Charles　on　the　importance　of　love　exposes　the　maddening　passion　awakened　on　both　sides，　and　implies　the　future　entrapment　passion　places　on　the　protagonist.　I　[Cassandra]　took　off　the　ring，　and　wore　my　hair　the　style　that　I　like　angers　and　saddens　Charles.　One　day，　he　grabs　me　and　asks　me　“Why　do　I　stay　in　Rosville?”　I　asked　him　to　leave　me　alone.

“Cassandra，”　he　said，　with　a　menacing　voice，　“how　dare　you　defy　me?　How　dare　you　tempt　me?”

I　put　my　hand　on　his　arm.　“Charles，　is　love　a　matter　of　temperament?”

“Are　you　mad?　It　is　life—it　is　heaven—it　is　hell.”

“There　is　something　in　this　soft，　beautiful，　odorous　night　that　makes　one　mad.　Still　I　shall　not　say　to　you　what　you　once　said　to　me.”

“Ah!　you　do　not　forget　those　words—‘I　love　you.　’”　(118)In　the　relationship　between　Charles　and　Cassandra，　the　latter　still　retains　her　rebellious　character.　In　the　above　dialogue，　when　Charles　compares　love　to　“life”，　“heaven”　and　“hell”，　one　experiences　the　intensity　of　passion　in　both　characters.　Charless　words　also　remind　readers　of　Heathcliff　in　Wuthering　Heights.　When　talking　about　his　love　for　Catherine　Earnshaw，　he　says：　“Two　words　would　comprehend　my　future—death　and　hell；　existence，　after　losing　her，　would　be　hell”　(158).　It　is　unclear　whether　Stoddard　borrows　this　comparison　from　Emily　Bront，　but　Stoddard　certainly　feels　the　same　need　as　Bront　to　compare　the　power　of　passion　to　life　and　hell.

Passion，　or　intensive　emotion　of　longing　and　love，　is　a　theme　Stoddard　highly　emphasizes　in　her　writing.　Stoddard　disagrees　with　the　ideal　of　nineteenthcentury　femininity　that　depicts　woman　as　passionless.　Immediately　following　the　dialogue　between　Cassandra　and　Charles，　Stoddard　quotes　lines　from　Shakespeares　The　Merchant　of　Venice　through　the　mouth　of　Ben　Somers　(a　male　character　from　the　novel)：　In　such　a　night，

Stood　Dido　with　a　willow　in　her　hand，

Upon　the　wild　sea　banks，　and　waved　her　love

To　come　again　to　Carthage.　(119)Dido　is　an　example　of　woman　who　is　entrapped　by　her　passion　(or　unrequited　love)　for　her　lover　Aeneas.　She　later　commits　suicide　due　to　her　pain　of　losing　her　lover.　Stoddard　uses　this　ancient　Roman　story　to　foreshadow　the　later　fate　of　Cassandra，　who　likewise　suffers　from　her　passion　for　Charles.　To　Stoddard，　pain　and　passion　are　interrelated.　In　her　poem　“Now　That　The　Pain　Is　Gone，　I　Too　Can　Smile”，　she　writes：　“My　hand　was　on　your　shoulder：　I　grew　wild：　\/　The　blood　seethed　furiously　through　my　heart!...　I　longed　to　kiss　you，　and　I　longed　to　die!”　(39).　Unlike　some　female　poets　who　write　their　poems　from　a　womans　perspective，　interestingly，　Stoddard　wrote　quite　a　few　poems　from　the　male　perspective.　This　poem　is　written　from　a　mans　point　of　view.　The　passion　it　describes　could　be　related　to　the　feeling　of　Charles　Morgeson.

Recognizing　that　Stoddards　discourse　on　passion　plays　an　important　part　in　her　works　throughout　her　career，　Putzi　notes：　“She　[Stoddard]　recognized　and　articulated　the　difference　in　this　regard　between　her　and　other　women，　telling　a　friend，　‘I　have　stronger　passionate　powers　than　most　women，　therefore　I　run　riot　in　these　matters’—presumably　both　in　life　and　writing...　Notably　it　is　men...　who　are　allowed　to　express　passion　freely，　regardless　of　its　effect　on　others；　women...　must　pay　dearly　for　the　indulgence　of　passions”　(xxvi).　Here　Putzi　is　commenting　on　Two　Men，　another　novel　by　Stoddard.　However，　in　The　Morgesons，　both　Cassandra　and　Charles　paid　a　dear　price　for　their　passion.　In　a　cartaccident，　Charles　is　killed　and　Cassandra　is　seriously　wounded.　She　has　a　fracture　and　her　face　is　cut，　leaving　permanent　scars.

Stoddard　makes　it　clear　that　her　protagonist　does　not　feel　remorse　or　repentance　for　her　illicit　passion.　Cassandra　realizes　and　acknowledges　her　passion　for　Charles　after　the　latter　is　dead.　She　questions　Alices　feeling　toward　Charles，　and　exposes　her　own　emotion.　I　ask　Alice：　“Alice，　did　you　love　him?”

“My　husband!”

Then　Alice　asks　me：　“Did　you　love　him?”

“Alice!”　I　whispered，　“you　may　or　you　may　not　forgive　me，　but　I　was　strangely　bound　to　him.　And　I　must　tell　you　that　I　hunger　now　for　the　kiss　he　never　gave　me.”　(12223)Without　shame　or　embarrassment，　Cassandra　expresses　her　passion　and　longing　for　the　deceased.　Her　frank　and　open　confession　of　her　illicit　passion　shocked　the　conservative　Victorian　critics　and　readers，　such　as　John　Eliot　Bowen，　editor　of　The　Independent　in　1889.　Some　of　them　were　unhappy　with　Stoddards　lack　of　moral　judgment　in　this　scene.　Stoddard，　however，　disagrees　with　their　opinions.　She　[Stoddard]　defended　Cassandras　transgressions　with　Charles，　particularly　her　longing　for　his　kiss　after　his　death.　“To　me　this　seems　more　like　genuine　human　nature，　than　it　seems　to　you，　‘cold　and　outre.’”　Stoddard　dismissed　BowensJohn　Eliot　Bowen，　editor　of　The　Independent，　1889.　criticism　as　mere　“opinion”　and　continued　to　call　attention　to　the　turbulent　dimensions　of　female　subjectivity，　asserting　womens　sexuality　and　their　rights　to　its　expression.　(Mahoney　51)Stoddards　courage　to　depict　female　sexuality　certainly　appears　ahead　of　her　own　time.　Her　stance　of　truthfulness　to　female　subjectivityThere　are　many　discussions　regarding　the　concepts　of　self　and　subject.　For　example，　in　her　essay　“‘The　Death　of　the　Subject’　and　its　Sociological　Rebirth　as　Subjectivation”，　Andrea　D.　Bührmann　comments　on　the　relationship　between　self　and　subject　as　well　as　the　hybridity　of　subject　as　follows：　“Most　of　the　concepts　of　the　self　found　in　cultural　studies　adhere　to　this　procedural　structuration　of　the　modern　subject　[i.e.　Identity　thus　appears　as　a　kind　of　authentic　core　belonging　to　the　subject，　which　is　formed　step　by　step　in　the　course　of　socialization　and　is　then　established　and　stabilized　if　the　formation　of　the　identity　has　been　successful]，　but　the　hybrid　gestalt　of　the　subject　remains　a　topic　of　debate.　At　the　core　of　this　debate　is　what　one　should　designate　as　ahistorical，　general　and　thus　naturally　given，　and　what　is　culturally　changeable.　On　the　one　hand，　the　subject　is　considered　as　determined　by　its　connection　to　empiricism　and　its　heterogeneity　of　experiences.　On　the　other　hand，　in　accordance　with　philosophical　tradition，　the　subject　is　seen　as　the　determinant　of　the　individual　and　society”　(1617).　has　set　a　daring　example　for　future　women　writers　to　follow.　Stoddard　continues　to　write　fictions　“challenging　representations　of　bourgeois　women　as　passionless　and　selfsacrificing”　(Mahoney　xvi)　amid　the　criticism　from　friends　and　reviewers.

In　A　Room　of　Ones　Own，　Virginia　Woolf　notes　that　women　writers　have　to　face　“the　perpetual　admonitions　of　the　eternal　pedagogue—write　this，　think　that”　(112).　Woolf　thinks　that　such　an　admonishing　voice　impedes　women　artists　creativity，　and　they　should　therefore　turn　a　deaf　ear　to　it.　In　the　case　of　Elizabeth　Stoddard，　she　is　determined　not　to　judge　and　preach　in　her　novels.　Putzi　explains　why　Stoddard　does　not　idealize　purity　or　femininity　in　her　women　characters　as　follows：　“She　[Stoddard]　rejected　the　notion　that　writers　owed　their　readers　‘an　eternal　preachment’　and　attempted　instead　to　depict　heroines　who　reflected　the　realities　of　womens　lives　in　the　midnineteenth　century”　(xxvii).　Commenting　on　The　Morgesons，　Chad　Luck　thinks　that　the　novel　can　be　understood　as　“a　sly　subversion　of　the　conventional　models　of　feminine　selfhood　promoted　by　midnineteenthcentury　domestic　ideology”：　Critics　have　called　attention　to　the　ways　in　which　Stoddards　protagonist，　the　young　Cassandra　Morgeson，　candidly　acknowledges　her　own　sexual　desires　and　bodily　appetites.　This　sort　of　selfconscious　sensual　embodiment　is　rightfully　seen　as　a　departure　from　more　traditional　domestic　fiction　which　often　seeks　to　downplay　female　sexual　desire　and　to　constrain　female　interests　within　the　bounds　of　a　heterosexual　private　sphere.　(Luck　37)Luck　here　points　out　an　important　difference　between　The　Morgesons　and　other　domestic　novels　published　in　midnineteenthcentury　America.　Stoddard　personally　disapproves　of　the　didactic　tone　adopted　by　popular　women　novels　of　her　time，　such　as　Juno　Clifford　(1856).　She　rejects　the　conventionally　ideal　womanhood　of　passionlessness.Elaine　Showalter，　Sisters　Choice：　Tradition　and　Change　in　American　Womens　Writing，　13.　In　one　of　her　reviews　on　one　popular　lady　novel，　Victoria：　or　The　World　Overcome　(1856)，　she　comments：　“Miss　Chesebros　dogmatic　and　pious　ideal　of　a　woman　assails　me　in　reading　her　book.　I　object　to　the　position　she　takes　in　regard　to　the　reader—that　of　a　teacher.　The　morality　is　not　agreeable，　and　quite　impossible.”Elizabeth　Stoddard，　Daily　Alta　California，　Dec.　3，　1855　and　Aug.　3，　1856.　Stoddards　criticism　of　popular　womens　novels　is　in　tune　with　her　own　attitude　on　writing.

Although　Stoddard　defends　Cassandras　transgression　with　Charles，　she　does　subject　her　protagonist　to　suffering　and　pain　after　her　illicit　passion.　Although　Cassandra　is　recovered　physically，　“[b]ut　I　felt　cold　at　heart，　doubtful　of　myself，　drifting　to　nothingness　in　thought　and　purpose.　None　saw　my　doubts　or　felt　my　coldness”　(126).　Cassandra　tells　Ben　that　she　has　“no　mind”　(127).　To　be　numb　with　ones　emotion　is　also　a　strategy　to　cope　with　loss　and　grief.　Putzi　thinks　that　“Stoddards　own　female　characters　feel　passion　and　hunger，　anger　and　frustration，　and　often　consider　the　duty　that　a　woman　owes　to　herself　in　addition　to　the　one　she　owes　to　her　family.　Stoddard　refused　to　sentimentalize　her　female　characters，　preferring　her　readers　to　be　unsettled　by　their　unattractive　humanity”　(xxvii).　Stoddards　refusal　to　engage　in　didacticism　and　her　adherence　to　presenting　passion　and　truth　are　shared　by　some　later　women　writers，　such　as　Kate　Chopin.

The　plight　of　the　protagonist　suggests　that　in　a　patriarchal　society　a　woman　is　most　likely　to　suffer　if　she　does　not　follow　the　conventional　moral　code　and　is　determined　to　look　for　a　self　undefined　by　tradition.In　this　book，　I　do　not　attempt　to　defend　Cassandras　transgression　with　Charles.　According　to　the　morality　of　the　time，　Cassandras　conduct　of　getting　involved　with　a　married　man　is　considered　wrong.　But　it　is　not　within　the　intention　of　the　author，　Elizabeth　Stoddard，　to　pass　moral　judgment　on　her　characters.　In　the　novel　Cassandras　mother　remarks：　“Should　women　curse　themselves，　then，　for　giving　birth　to　daughters?”　(133).　Her　mothers　reply　reflects　her　sadness　at　Cassys　suffering.　Cassandras　experience　also　reminds　one　of　Hester　Prynne　in　The　Scarlet　Letter　who　shares　a　similar　transgression.Stoddard　had　read　and　admired　works　by　Nathaniel　Hawthorne，　and　the　latter　also　encouraged　her　to　continue　her　writing.　Both　Hester　and　Cassandra　are　involved　in　an　adulterous　relationship.Some　would　argue　that　Cassandra　is　only　close　to　committing　an　adulterous　affair　with　a　married　man.　Both　have　loved，　suffered　and　paid　a　dear　price　for　their　passion.　One　distinct　difference　between　Cassandra　and　Hester　is　that　the　former　does　not　have　a　physical　relationship　with　her　lover，　whereas　the　later　does，　and　gives　birth　to　a　child　named　Pearl.　Because　of　the　more　serious　nature　of　Hesters　offence，　she　is　openly　punished，　humiliated，　and　ostracized.　Everyday　Hester　has　to　wear　a　red　capital　letter　A　on　her　bosom，　which　symbolizes　the　adultery　she　has　committed.　Cassandra，　on　the　other　hand，　is　left　with　a　permanent　scar　on　her　face，　which　reminds　her　of　the　incident　each　time　she　looks　into　the　mirror.　The　scarlet　letter　and　the　scar　not　only　remind　the　bearers　of　the　past，　but　are　also　shown　openly　to　others　for　speculation.　Despite　the　suffering，　neither　Hester　nor　Cassandra　repents　for　their　deeds.Cassandra　does　not　regret　the　affair.　Hester，　on　the　other　hand，　does　not　publicly　repent　of　her　affair.　It　is　debatable　whether　Hester　has　privately　repented　or　not.　For　example，　Hester　refuses　to　tell　the　crowd　the　fathers　name　at　the　scaffold.　“Woman，　transgress　not　beyond　the　limits　of　Heavens　mercy!”　cried　the　Reverend　Mr.　Wilson，　more　harshly　than　before...　“Speak　out　the　name!　That，　and　thy　repentance，　may　avail　to　take　the　scarlet　letter　off　thy　breast.”

“Never!”　replied　Hester　Prynne，　looking，　not　at　Mrs.　Wilson，　but　into　the　deep　and　troubled　eyes　of　the　younger　clergyman.　“It　is　too　deeply　branded.　Ye　cannot　take　it　off.　And　would　that　I　might　endure　his　agony，　as　well　as　mine!”　(Hawthorne　67)Hester　shows　unusual　determination　at　the　scene　on　the　scaffold.　Cassandra，　on　the　other　hand，　feels　neither　remorse　nor　regret　over　her　passion　for　Charles.　Realizing　that　Alice　may　not　forgive　her，　she　nevertheless　candidly　tells　Alice　that　she　“hunger[s]　now　for　the　kiss　he　[Charles]　never　gave　me”　(123).　The　scarlet　letter　and　the　scar　separate　both　heroines　from　the　rest　of　the　people，　and　draw　them　to　inward　contemplation.　In　other　words，　the　scarlet　letter　and　the　scar，　symbolizing　past　experiences，　help　to　shape　the　identities　of　the　two　protagonists.　The　unconventionality　and　stubbornness　demonstrated　by　both　heroines　opens　up　unique　aspects　of　womanhood.　Mahoney　thinks　“Stoddard　further　undermined　the　conventionally　moralistic　potential　of　this　episode　by　making　it　clear　that　Cassandra，　rather　than　repenting　her　illicit　love，　grows　and　matures　as　a　result　of　it”　(42).　In　other　words，　although　once　blinded　and　confined　by　her　passion，　the　protagonist　does　not　have　to　remain　condemned　all　her　life，　which　marks　a　difference　between　The　Morgesons　and　conventional　plots　of　fallen　women　who　are　usually　not　given　a　second　chance.　In　the　novel，　Cassandra　eventually　recovers　from　her　past　pains，　and　moves　on　to　embrace　her　growth.

Hunger　and　Entrapment

Appetite　and　body　become　an　important　theme　for　Stoddard　in　her　novel.　Hunger，　which　is　depicted　in　the　novel，　both　confines　and　liberates　the　woman　character.　For　example，　when　Cassandra　enters　into　adolescence，　Stoddard　describes　the　physical　changes　of　her　body：　“What　an　appetite　I　had，　too!”　(47).　Cassandras　voracious　appetite　and　womanlyshaped　body　are　contrasted　with　her　sisters　meagre　frame　and　refusal　of　food.　In　the　beginning　of　the　novel，　Veronica　(Verry)，　as　a　child，　is　described　as　being　“never　hungry”　and　“impish”：　“She　was　a　silent　child，　and　liked　to　be　alone”　(13).　The　impish　side　of　Veronica　and　the　fits　she　throws　from　time　to　time　reminds　one　of　Pearl　in　The　Scarlet　Letter.　Different　from　the　heroines　in　Jane　Austens　novels，　such　as　Pride　and　Prejudice　and　Sense　and　Sensibility，　in　which　strong　and　affectionate　bonds　exist　between　sisters，　the　sisters　in　The　Morgesons　are　aloof　from　each　other.　It　is　told　from　Cassandras　perspective　how　she　and　Verry　“grew　up　ignorant　of　each　others　character”　(13).　As　the　whole　novel　is　told　from　Cassandras　perspective，　readers　may　not　get　a　fully　objective　portrayal　of　Veronica.　Verry　may　indeed　have　paid　much　more　attention　to　Cassy　than　the　latter　thinks；　however，　on　the　whole　Verry　and　Cassy　have　orbited　in　independent　circles　since　their　early　childhood.

It　is　clear　in　the　beginning　of　the　novel　that　Veronica　suffers　from　what　modern　medical　terminology　would　label，　anorexia.“In　1874　the　term　‘anorexia　nervosa’　was　coined　by　William　Gull...　Between　18741918...　the　condition　of　anorexia　was　publicly　identified　and　labeled”　(Dignon16).　Today　anorexia　nervosa　is　defined　as　“a　state　in　which　the　sufferer，　usually　female，　refuses　to　eat　enough　to　maintain　normal　body　weight　for　her　height”　(Gilbert　34).　She　barely　eats　when　growing　up.　Temperance，　the　house　servant，　has　to　coax　her　into　eating　from　time　to　time.　“Before　mother　left　her　room　Veronica　was　taken　ill，　and　was　not　convalescent　till　spring.　Delicacy　of　constitution　the　doctor　called　her　disorder.　She　had　no　strength，　no　appetite，　and　looked　more　elfish　than　ever”　(26).　There　are　several　places　in　the　novel　where　Veronicas　eating　problem　is　depicted.　For　example，　when　Cassy　comes　back　from　the　seminary　in　Barmouth，　Verry　declares　to　the　family　that　she　will　“live　entirely　on　toast”　(51).　The　choice　of　whether　to　eat　or　not　becomes　Veronicas　way　of　asserting　herself　in　the　family.　She　determines　what　she　will　become　by　exercising　her　free　will.　In　other　words，　Verry　does　not　have　to　follow　the　ideology　of　domesticity.　It　needs　to　be　stressed，　however，　that　Verrys　frail　body　is　different　from　the　ideal　of　Victorian　femininity.　The　ideal　of　Victorian　femininity　encourages　women　to　be　thin　or　even　ill　so　as　to　appear　attractive　to　the　opposite　sex.　In　the　case　of　Veronica，　however，　her　meagre　frame　and　illness　justify　her　exercising　of　her　own　will　in　life.　Due　to　her　eating　disorder，　Veronica　frequently　falls　sick.　She　therefore　adopts　the　status　of　an　eternal　invalid.　Veronicas　choice　is　not　so　rare.　In　nineteenthcentury　America，　it　is　not　unusual　for　some　women　to　become　eternal　invalids　at　home.　One　of　the　famous　examples　is　Alice　James，　sister　of　Henry　James，　who　became　an　eternal　invalid　due　to　the　repression　of　her　ambition　to　move　outside　domesticity.　“Alices　illness　served　several　purposes　of　this　kind.　It　provided　her　with　an　escape　route—a　way　out　of　having　to　choose　between　a　safe　[and]　boring　life　of　devotion　to　others　and　a　dangerous　assertion　of　intellectual　competence”　(Strouse　12122).　Claiming　the　status　of　eternal　invalid　helps　women　to　cope　with　their　lives，　especially　in　the　scenarios　of　failed　hopes　and　thwarted　ambitions.

Anorexia　and　ensuing　illness　both　confine　and　liberate　Veronica.　Due　to　her　illness，　Veronica　has　to　remain　in　bed　at　home　most　of　the　time；　however，　at　the　same　time，　she　also　gains　strength　and　power　from　her　illness.　Her　sister　observes：　“Verry　was　educated　by　sickness；　her　mind　fed　and　grew　on　pain，　and　at　last　mastered　it”　(59).　Before　Cassandra　leaves　for　Rosville，　she　asks　Verry　not　to　fall　sick　again.　Verry　replies：　“I　need　all　the　illnesses　that　come”　(67).　Verry　identifies　with　her　illness.　Illness　becomes　her　constant　“friend”.　It　occupies　her　time　and　sustains　her　in　her　life.　To　put　it　another　way，　illness　is　part　and　parcel　of　her　existence.　Verrys　condition　matches　what　Susan　Bordo　explains　in　her　book：　The　young　woman　discovers　what　it　feels　like　to　crave　and　want　and　need　and　yet，　through　the　exercise　of　her　own　will，　to　triumph　over　that　need.　In　the　process，　a　new　realm　of　meanings　is　discovered，　a　range　of　values　and　possibilities　that　Western　culture　has　traditionally　coded　as　“male”　and　rarely　made　available　to　women：　an　ethic　and　aesthetic　of　selfmastery　and　selftranscendence，　expertise，　and　power　over　others　through　the　example　of　superior　will　and　control.　The　experience　is　intoxicating，　habitforming.　(2372)Bordo　explains　the　fascination　anorexia　holds　for　its　victims　and　why　it　is　difficult　to　break　away　from　it.　By　feeding　on　anorexia　and　subsequent　illness，　Veronica　extends　her　influence　on　other　family　members　and　exercises　greater　freedom　with　her　will，　as　the　whole　family　allows　her　to　have　her　own　way　since　she　so　easily　falls　sick.　Anorexia，　therefore，　also　gives　her　power　to　determine　her　own　life.I　do　not　think　Stoddard　purposefully　promotes　anorexia　in　her　novel；　rather，　I　think　she　is　more　recording　and　reflecting　a　possible　situation.

Furthermore，　in　the　novel　anorexia　is　also　associated　with　enlightenment　for　the　character.　Verry　gains　a　new　understanding　of　herself　each　time　she　recovers　from　her　illness.　The　darkness　in　her　nature　broke；　by　slow　degrees　she　gained　health，　though　never　much　strength.　Upon　each　recovery　a　change　was　visible；　a　spiritual　dawn　had　risen　in　her　soul；　moral　activity　blending　with　her　ideality　made　her　life　beautiful，　even　in　the　humblest　sense.　Veronica!　you　were　endowed　with　genius；　but　while　its　rays　penetrated　you，　we　did　not　see　them.　(59)This　is　Cassandras　later　reflection　on　Veronicas　illness.　Illness，　in　this　case，　has　become　a　source　of　self　understanding　and　education　for　Veronica.　Contrary　to　the　strong　and　womanly　body　Cassandra　has，　Veronica　retains　a　young　girls　fragile　body　frame　by　starving　herself.　She　intentionally　hampers　her　own　growth　and　therefore　remains　a　child.　Helen，　Cassandras　schoolmate，　thinks　Verry　“stopped　in　the　process　of　maturity　long　ago.　It　is　her　genius　which　takes　her　on.　You　[Cassandra]　advance　by　experience”　(150).　Helen　may　indeed　be　correct　in　her　observation　of　the　sisters.

Because　of　the　freedom，　enlightenment，　and　power　Verry　gets　from　her　illness，　she　never　recovers　from　her　eating　disorder.　Anorexia　continues　throughout　her　process　of　growing　up.　There　is　only　one　time　when　Verrys　condition　improves.　It　is　after　Ben　Somers　proposes　to　her：　“The　light　revealed　a　new　expression　in　Verrys　face—an　unsettled，　dispossessed　look；　her　brows　were　knitted，　yet　she　smiled　over　and　over　again，　while　she　seemed　hardly　aware　that　she　was　eating　like　an　ordinary　mortal”　(147).　However，　the　improvement　does　not　last　long，　and　later　Verry　falls　sick　again，　which　suggests　Bens　naivety　of　believing　marriage　can　fundamentally　alter　a　person，　including　himself.　Anorexia　is　so　ingrained　in　Veronicas　existence　that　it　is　not　possible　to　get　rid　of　it.

Critics　have　examined　the　theme　of　selfimposed　starvation　in　Stoddards　works.　Smith　and　Weinauer　think　that　“the　correlation　in　Stoddards　work　between　female　health　and　textual　circulation，　between　(sickly)　‘deviant’　women　and　silenced　texts，　suggests　that，　for　Stoddard，　womens　bodies　and　womens　writing　can　never　be　separated...　Stoddards　virtual　obsession　with　appetite—the　ingestion　and　consumption　of　food，　starvation　and　hunger—signals　her　ongoing　concerns　with　female　agency，　power，　and　voice”　(12).　Helene　Cixous　famously　asserts　in　The　Laugh　of　Medusa　(1975)　to　women：　“Write　yourself.　Your　body　must　be　heard”　(2043).　Cixous　thinks　that　history　teaches　woman　to　turn　away　from　her　body　and　considers　it　with　shame.　She　therefore　argues　that　women　need　to　write　through　their　bodies　to　break　the　silence.　Smith　and　Weinauers　expresses　a　similar　view　as　Cixous：　“[T]he　acceptance　or　refusal　of　food　serves　as　a　way　to　represent　the　negotiation　of　a　female　process　of　selfgrowth...　the　works　of　both　authorsElizabeth　Stoddard　and　Emily　Dickinson.　represent　a　complicated　and　contrasting　effort　by　women　to　manipulate　both　cultural　limitations　and　their　own　bodies　to　achieve　a　self　ultimately　both　appetitive　and　volitional”　(13).　In　the　case　of　Veronica，　anorexia，　which　should　be　a　confining　illness，　however，　is　crucially　linked　to　the　development　and　empowerment　of　self.　Anorexia　is　a　constant　companion　that　she　leans　on　when　growing　up.　It　gives　her　power　to　control　her　own　body，　lifestyle　and　destiny；　as　well　as　to　exert　influence　over　those　close　to　her.　In　a　sickly　and　twisted　way，　the　power　over　ones　appetite　confines　one　to　a　lifelong　illness，　and　liberates　and　empowers　a　woman　to　assert　her　autonomy　and　will　against　a　patriarchal　society　at　the　same　time.

Ⅲ.　Solutions　to　End　Female　Entrapment

This　section　aims　at　answering　the　third　question：　what　solutions　have　been　offered　in　the　novel　to　free　women　characters　from　their　entrapment?　In　The　Morgesons，　Stoddard　offers　two　possible　solutions　for　her　women　characters　to　resolve　their　difficult　situations.　The　solutions　are　solitude　and　marriage.It　is　not　simply　the　form　of　marriage，　but　the　values　the　parties　hold　toward　marriage.　I　will　explain　it　in　later　part　of　this　section.　In　the　novel　Stoddard　quite　objectively　describes　both　the　positive　and　negative　aspects　of　solitude　and　marriage　for　her　women　characters，　and　she　seems　to　maintain　the　view　that　the　two　options　can　either　liberate　women　from　their　present　entrapment　or　plunge　them　deeper　into　their　confinement.

Stoddard　expresses　a　complex　attitude　toward　solitude.　On　the　one　hand，　solitude　can　liberate　a　woman　from　her　domestic　world　temporarily　and　help　her　to　reflect　upon　life.　On　the　other　hand，　solitude　can　also　cause　one　to　sever　vital　connections　with　the　outside　world　and　becomes　entrapped　voluntarily.　In　The　Morgesons　Cassandra　likes　to　walk　alone　by　the　shore.　Her　feelings　toward　the　sea　are　depicted　quite　often　in　the　novel：　“A　habit　grew　upon　me　of　consulting　the　sea　as　soon　as　I　rose　in　the　morning.　Its　aspect　decided　how　my　day　would　be　spent”　(142).　Stoddard　was　heavily　influenced　by　transcendentalism.　She　had　read　works　by　Emerson　and　Thoreau，　and　even　tried　to　imitate　Thoreaus　example　by　living　alone　for　a　short　period　of　time.　“Her　[Stoddards]　pessimistic　view　of　the　cruel　universe　led　her　to　look　to　the　sea　as　a　symbol　of　the　alternating　and　arbitrary　forces　of　good　and　evil”　(Boyd　55).　In　Stoddards　short　story　“Out　of　the　Deeps”，　she　writes：　“We　are　such　complicated　creatures...　and　circumstances　so　arrange　our　consciences　that　all　reasoning　is　baffled”　(140).　This　statement　summarizes　Stoddards　attitude　toward　her　creation　of　characters.　She　acknowledges　the　complexity　of　life　and　is　determined　to　portray　the　wide　spectrum　of　emotions　human　beings　are　apt　to　experience.　Smith　and　Weinauer　point　out　that　“virtually　every　character　in　The　Morgesons，　whether　major　or　minor，　maintains　a　troubled　relation　to　desire”　(12).　Stoddard　believes　that　it　is　essential　to　depict　the　inner　turbulence，　confusion　and　desires　felt　by　her　characters.　The　selfdiscovery　of　hidden　emotions　in　solitude　contributes　to　the　characters　growth，　and　helps　her　to　gain　a　clearer　perspective　of　her　selfhood.

Cassandras　maturity　is　born　out　of　her　suffering　in　solitude.　Like　Veronica，　Cassandra　starts　to　withdraw　from　people　and　prefer　solitude.　“It　already　seemed　to　me　that　I　was　like　the　room.　Unlike　Veronica，　I　had　nothing　odd，　nothing　suggestive”　(143).　By　comparing　her　life　to　a　blank　room，　Cassandra　identifies　her　life　with　her　place.　Cassandras　return　home　is　colored　by　internal，　psychological　changes，　unlike　her　departure　from　Barmouth.　Things　seem　different　to　Cass　not　because　they　are　but　because　‘the　relation　in　which　I　stood　to　them’　was　altered.　Cass　looks　for　stability　by　taking　‘possession’　of　her　‘own’　room.　She　pursues　selfdevelopment　in　her　own　space　and　avoids　the　feminized　middleclass　chambers　of　her　mother.　(Mahoney　43)Mahoney　here　is　referring　to　Woolfs　idea　of　a　room　of　ones　own.　However，　it　needs　to　be　pointed　out　that　in　the　latter　part　of　the　novel，　Cassandra　in　a　sense　is　confined　at　home.　Since　her　mother　passes　away，　she　has　to　assume　the　duty　of　taking　care　of　the　entire　household　instead　of　travelling　around　as　she　does　in　the　past.　Due　to　the　restriction　of　space，　Cassandra　finds　that　her　youth　grows　dim，　and　she　becomes　silent.　Alice　Morgeson　comes　to　Surry　and　asks　Cassandra：　“What　has　become　of　that　candor　of　which　you　were　so　proud?”

“I　am　more　candid　than　ever，”　I　answered，　“for　I　am　silent.”　(153)Silence　is　an　attitude　toward　life.　Disappointed　and　numbed　by　life，　Cassandra　thinks　that　silence　describes　her　present　state　most　accurately.　A　female　characters　silence，　in　this　case　Cassandras　for　example，　can　be　linked　to　the　silence　of　women　writers.　Gilbert　and　Gubar　write　about　womans　silence　in　The　Madwoman　in　the　Attic：　“Rejecting　the　poisoned　apples　her　culture　offers　her，　the　woman　writer　often　becomes　in　some　sense　anorexic，　resolutely　closing　her　mouth　on　silence”　(58).　By　talking　metaphorically　about　the　silence　resulting　from　anorexia，　Gilbert　and　Gubar　draw　readers　attention　to　the　lack　of　literary　space　for　women　writers.　Stoddards　silence　in　her　later　life　exemplifies　the　restrictions　mentioned　by　Gilbert　and　Gubar.　Under　the　restricted　circumstances，　silence　becomes　a　choice　of　resistance　against　patriarchy　and　confinement　for　both　women　writers　and　their　female　characters.

Solitude　becomes　conducive　to　selfgrowth　for　the　protagonist　in　that　she　uses　solitude　for　reflection　and　growth　after　her　family　members　all　move　out　of　the　house.　“The　day　they　[Verry　and　Ben]　moved　was　a　happy　one　for　me.　I　was　at　last　left　alone　in　my　own　house，　and　I　regained　an　absolute　selfpossession，　and　a　sense　of　occupation　I　had　long　been　a　stranger　to.　My　ownership　oppressed　me，　almost，　there　was　so　much　liberty　to　realize”　(248).　Solitude　is　one　of　the　important　themes　for　women　characters　in　the　novel，　and　is　associated　with　the　development　of　self.　Putzi　thinks：　“Like　many　romantic　writers，　Stoddard　focused　on　the　development　of　the　individual　soul；　marked　by　family　and　societal　relationships，　her　characters　remain　solitary，　romantic　figures，　responsible　only　to　themselves　for　their　own　intellectual　and　emotional　selffulfillment”　(xxv).　Putzi　reiterates　the　connection　between　the　development　of　the　individual　soul　and　the　necessity　of　solitude.　De　BeauvoirSimone　de　Beauvoir，　The　Second　Sex，　63137.　looks　at　solitude　for　the　growth　of　woman　in　a　positive　light：　Enslaved　as　she　is　to　her　husband，　her　children，　her　home，　it　is　ecstasy　to　find　herself　alone，　sovereign　on　the　hillsides；　she　is　no　longer　mother，　wife，　housekeeper，　but　a　human　being；　she　contemplates　the　passive　world，　and　she　remembers　that　she　is　wholly　a　conscious　being，　an　irreducible　free　individual.　From　the　depths　of　her　solitude，　her　isolation，　woman　gains　her　sense　of　the　personal　bearing　of　her　life...　she　has　the　leisure　and　the　inclination　to　abandon　herself　to　her　emotions，　to　study　her　sensation　and　unravel　their　meaning.　(63137)In　the　novel　Cassandra　gains　the　power　of　perception　into　her　self　and　strength　for　her　life　from　solitude.　She　is　in　some　way　nurtured　by　solitude，　though　the　process　is　not　as　romantic　or　idyllic　as　de　Beauvoir　has　depicted，　as　Cassandra　suffers　and　becomes　silent　due　to　her　disappointments　in　life.

In　the　novel　solitude　is　portrayed　as　a　doubleedged　sword.　On　the　one　hand，　it　helps　Cassandra　to　reflect　and　to　grow，　yet　on　the　other　hand，　it　inhibits　Verrys　maturity.　Compared　with　Cassandra　who　feels　bored　at　home　in　Surrey　and　looks　into　the　outer　world　to　search　for　herself，　Veronica，　on　the　other　hand，　never　takes　a　strong　interest　outside　her　home　in　Surrey.　She　willingly　confines　herself　to　her　own　room　to　avoid　the　interference　on　her　own　life　from　the　outside　forces.　For　example，　she　occasionally　goes　on　trips　to　another　city，　but　she　only　stays　there　for　a　short　period　of　time.　She　purchases　goods　in　big　cities，　and　brings　them　home　to　decorate　her　bedroom.　In　essence，　her　bedroom　and　her　home　in　Surrey　remain　the　centre　of　her　universe　throughout　the　entire　novel.

Veronicas　preference　for　solitude　in　her　bedroom　is　marked　early　in　the　novel.　When　Cassandra　obeys　her　mothers　will　and　goes　to　a　seminary　in　Barmouth，　Veronica　clearly　informs　her　family　that　she　will　not　follow　her　sisters　path.　She　asserts　that　she　will　know　enough　without　going　to　school.　In　fact　given　her　poor　health　and　peculiar　character，　her　parents　are　unlikely　to　press　her　to　go　either.　Veronica　therefore　grows　up　without　friends　of　her　own　age，　and　seems　just　fine　in　her　isolated　situation.　The　piano，　in　addition，　becomes　her　company：　“her　fingers　interpreting　her　feelings，　touching　the　keys　of　the　piano　as　if　they　were　the　chords　of　her　thoughts”　(56).　Private　space　at　home　becomes　part　of　Veronicas　identity.

Veronica　not　only　shuns　the　possible　experience　of　meeting　strangers　in　the　outer　world，　she　also　withdraws　from　family　members　as　well.　For　instance，　she　refuses　to　attend　her　grandfathers　funeral.　The　reason　she　gives　is：　“As　she　had　been　allowed　to　stay　away　from　Grandther　Warren　living，　why　should　she　be　forced　to　go　to　him　when　dead?”　(57).　Another　example　is　that　Veronica　clings　to　isolation　whenever　she　falls　sick.　“The　weeks　that　she　was　confined　to　her　room，　preyed　upon　by　some　inscrutable　disease，　were　weeks　of　darkness　and　solitude...　she　preferred　being　alone　most　of　the　time.　Thus　she　acquired　the　fortitude　of　an　Indian；　pain　could　extort　no　groan　from　her”　(59).　Readers　are　told　that　“Veronicas　habits　of　isolation　clung　to　her；　she　would　never　leave　home”　(60).　By　immersing　herself　in　books，　the　piano　and　the　garden，　Veronica　imagines　a　world　for　herself　where　no　one　else　enters　or　could　share　with　her：　“Home，　father　said，　was　her　sphere”　(60).　Verry　differs　from　the　mad　woman　in　the　attic.　The　latter　desperately　wishes　to　get　out；　Verry，　however，　willingly　shuts　herself　in.　She　lives　like　a　hermit　by　confining　herself　in　her　room—her　own　space.

The　solitude　at　the　bedroom　becomes　such　an　important　part　of　Veronicas　identity　that　she　cannot　give　it　up　in　spite　of　major　changes　in　her　life.　Although　she　accepts　Bens　proposal，　she　does　not　let　Ben　enter　her　inner　world，　and　continues　to　“shut　herself　up　in　her　room”　(160).　When　mother　passes　away，　she　is　appalled　and　asks　Cassandra　incessant　questions　like　a　frightened　child.　During　the　week　of　her　mothers　funeral，　Veronica　requests　to　be　kept　away　from　everyone：　“Veronica　alone　would　see　no　one；　her　room　was　the　only　one　not　invaded”　(209).　Veronica　draws　peace，　security　and　freedom　from　her　isolation　in　her　own　room.　However，　it　is　exactly　the　isolation　in　her　room　that　inhibits　her　growth　socially.

Veronica　remains　essentially　childlike.　She　refuses　to　grow　and　mature，　and　instead　wishes　to　continue　her　life　as　a　young　girl　without　changes.　Veronica　was　the　same　as　before；　her　room　was　pleasant　with　color　and　perfume，　the　same　delicate　pains　with　her　dress　each　day　was　taken.　She　looked　as　fair　as　a　lily，　as　serene　as　the　lake　on　which　it　floats，　except　when　Fanny　tried　her.　With　me　she　never　lost　temper.　But　I　saw　little　of　her；　she　was　as　fixed　in　her　individual　pursuits　as　ever.　(22829)Although　engaged　to　Ben　at　the　time，　Verry　lives　a　separate　life　from　Ben.　Ben　has　sailed　for　Switzerland　and　plans　to　stay　there　for　a　short　period　of　time；　Verry，　however，　is　not　least　bothered　by　it.　Ben　cannot　bring　out　the　maturity　in　Verry　through　their　relationship.　In　essence　Veronica　resembles　a　delicate　plant　that　cannot　survive　if　removed　from　the　original　environment.　To　put　it　another　way，　the　solitude　Verry　so　eagerly　seeks　both　saves　her　from　the　intrusion　of　the　outside　world，　and　condemns　her　to　a　life　of　selfimposed　imprisonment　at　home　and　immaturity　in　her　life.

Concerning　the　second　option，　marriage，　Stoddard　also　expresses　a　quite　complex　view　toward　the　issue　in　her　novel.　While　acknowledging　the　possible　bliss　and　happiness　a　woman　can　reap　from　her　marriage，　she　also　notes　that　marriage　alone　cannot　work　to　solve　all　the　problems　for　her　women　characters.　Most　importantly，　Stoddard　places　her　emphasis　on　the　values　held　by　people　toward　marriage　rather　than　the　institution　of　marriage.　To　put　it　another　way，　it　is　not　just　the　form　of　marriage，　but　the　person　in　marriage　who　does　not　judge　the　other　person　according　to　the　Victorian　ideal　of　femininity　and　domesticity，　and　is　also　willing　to　grow　and　mature.

In　the　novel　Cassandra　experiences　passion　for　the　second　time　for　Desmond　Somers，　Bens　brother，　in　Belem.　Desmond　understands　Cassandras　past　and　he　is　not　repelled　by　the　scars　on　Cassandras　face.　Desmond　tells　Cassandra：　“It　was　in　battle...　And　women　like　you，　pure，　with　no　vice　of　blood，　sometimes　are　tempted，　struggle，　and　suffer”　(183).　Desmond，　however，　has　his　own　wounded　history　of　passion.　It　is　partly　due　to　his　past　that　he　can　relate　to　Cassandra，　and　does　not　judge　her　as　a　“fallen　woman”　by　the　standards　of　Victorian　femininity　or　the　cult　of　true　womanhood.　Desmond　wears　a　womans　ruby　ring　on　his　watchribbon.　I　[Cassandra]　pointed　to　the　ring.　Dropping　his　[Desmonds]　eyes，　he　said：　“I　loved　her　shamefully，　and　she　loved　me　shamefully.　When　shall　I　take　it　off—cursed　sign?”　And　he　snapped　it　with　his　thumb　and　finger.

I　grew　rigid　with　virtue.

“You　may　not　conjure　up　any　tragic　ideas　on　the　subject.　She　is　no　outcast.　She　is　here　tonight；　if　there　was　ruin，　it　was　mutual.”　(199)Different　from　conventional　tales　of　the　fallen　women　who　are　often　ostracized　from　their　communities，　the　woman　in　Desmonds　past　does　not　suffer　from　such　a　tragic　fate.　Mahoney　thinks　that　Desmonds　past　and　his　attitude　toward　Cassandra　reflects　that　he　“simultaneously　rejects　images　of　fallen　womanhood　and　embraces　female　sexuality”　(46).　In　other　words，　Desmond　does　not　adhere　to　the　cult　of　true　womanhood　to　judge　the　other　gender　harshly.　The　understanding　and　sympathy　Desmond　shows　to　Cassandra　suggest　that　he　does　not　want　to　either　be　victimized　or　to　victimize　others.　Cassandras　readiness　for　marriage　this　time　is　demonstrated　through　her　perception　of　her　love　for　Desmond.　She　recognizes　that　different　from　her　passion　for　Charles　last　time，　this　time　her　love　for　Desmond　is　mature.　Although　Desmond　in　some　way　resembles　Charles　in　temperament　and　influence，　Cassandra　realizes　that　she　and　Desmond　can　comprehend　each　other　without　“collision”：　“I　love　him，　as　a　mature　woman　may　love”　(226).

Stoddard　seems　to　express　the　view　that　the　adherence　to　the　ideal　of　femininity　cannot　lead　to　a　successful　and　equal　relationship　between　the　two　genders.　It　should　be　noted　that　another　male　character，　Ben　Somers，　also　loves　Cassandra，　but　due　to　his　lack　of　courage，　he　chooses　Veronica　instead.　He　confesses　to　Cassandra：　You　have　been　my　delight　and　misery　ever　since　I　knew　you.　I　saw　you　first，　so　impetuous，　yet　selfcontained!　Incapable　of　insincerity，　devoid　of　affection　and　courageously　naturally　beautiful.　Then，　to　my　amazement，　I　saw　that，　unlike　most　women，　you　understood　your　instincts；　that　you　dared　to　define　them，　and　were　impious　enough　to　follow　them.　You　debased　my　ideal，　you　confused　me，　also，　for　I　could　never　affirm　that　you　were　wrong；　forcing　me　to　consult　abstractions，　they　gave　a　verdict　in　your　favor，　which　almost　unsexed　you　in　my　estimation.　I　must　own　that　the　man　who　is　willing　to　marry　you　has　more　courage　than　I　have.　Is　it　strange　that　when　I　found　your　counterpart，　Veronica，　that　I　yielded?　Her　delicate，　pure，　ignorant　soul　suggests　to　me　eternal　repose.　(226)Note　the　adjectives　Ben　uses　to　describe　Cassandra　and　Veronica.　Cassandra　is　considered　opposite　to　the　feminine　ideal，　for　she　is　“courageous”，　“impious”　and　“almost　unsexed”.　On　the　other　hand，　Veronica　is　“delicate”，　“pure”　and　“ignorant”，　therefore，　she　can　offer　“eternal　repose”　to　Ben.　Stoddard　seems　to　suggest　that　the　reason　Ben　is　not　suited　for　Cassandra　lies　in　his　patriarchal　attitude.　Ben　still　expects　a　woman　to　adhere　to　the　example　of　the　feminine　and　domestic　ideal　in　the　nineteenth　century，　which　explains　his　later　failed　marriage　with　Veronica.I　will　write　about　Bens　failed　marriage　toward　the　end　of　this　chapter.

Cassandras　recovery　from　the　past　and　growth　in　the　present　is　symbolized　by　her　breaking　off　the　selfimposed　silence　in　the　end.　She　finally　decides　to　break　her　silence　and　gives　her　life　a　new　direction.　She　musters　the　courage　to　tell　Desmond　the　name　of　her　former　lover，　Charles　Morgeson.　Her　act　suggests　her　healing　from　the　past　wound　and　her　determination　to　share　her　past　with　her　true　love.　She　also　questions　herself：　“[H]ad　I　not　endured　a　‘mute　case’　long　enough?”　(243).　She　is　determined　to　break　away　from　the　fetters　of　the　past.　Mahoney　suggests　that　Stoddard　“created　rebellious　heroines　who　were　not　anomalies，　but　models　of　female　development，　and　she　forcefully　condemned　women　who　chose　submission　over　selfassertion.　She　had　little　patience　with　weak　or　foolish　women　whom　she　believed　allowed　themselves　to　be　victimized　or　even　represented　as　victims”　(55).　In　other　words，　Cassandra　assertively　acknowledges　her　yearning　for　growth　and　selfdevelopment　toward　the　end　of　the　novel.

Stoddard　gives　Cassandra　and　Desmond　two　years　for　their　separate　and　individual　growth.　Desmond　returns　home　from　Spain　after　two　years，　and　looks　old：　“He　was　so　spare，　and　brown，　and　his　hair　was　quite　gray!　Even　his　mustache　looked　silvery”　(250).　The　description　of　Desmond　indicates　the　suffering　and　pain　he　goes　through　to　quit　his　addiction　to　drinking.　Sybil　Weir　thinks　that　Cassandra　“can　do　nothing　but　wait，　hoping　Desmond　will　come　to　her，　hoping　Desmond　will　conquer　his　alcoholism.　She　has　learned　that　she　must　stand　alone，　establishing　values　by　the　test　of　her　own　experience　without　the　support　of　the　existing　social　institutions”　(43536).　In　other　words，　Stoddard　designs　the　two　years　of　separation　as　a　period　for　the　protagonist　to　grow　and　become　able　to　stand　on　her　own　feet.　At　the　end　of　the　novel，　Cassandra　and　Desmond　become　a　couple.　Cassandra　regains　her　former　courage　to　express　her　passion　for　Desmond，　and　this　time　she　will　no　longer　suffer　from　illfated　consequence.

Critics　have　held　different　views　regarding　the　ending　of　the　novel.　Sandra　Zagarell　thinks　that　Cassandra　in　the　end　has　attained　a　love　“at　once　equal　and　complete”　(xix).　Smith　and　Weinauer　think　that　in　the　difficult　negotiation　between　romance　and　autonomy，　Cassandra　has　compromised　her　independence　in　marriage　while　developing　“a　selfpossession　through　that　very　compromise　which　alters　the　terms　of　conventional　heterosexual　relations”　(145).　Stacy　Alaimo，　on　the　other　hand，　views　the　ending　as　Cassandras　“descent　into　ladyhood”　(29)：　“Though　Cassandras　inheritance　of　the　house　should　empower　her，　the　close　identification　between　Cass[andra]　and　her　house　suggests　she　has　internalized　her　external　entrapment　within　the　domestic　realm”　(35).　Likewise，　Elizabeth　Stockton　thinks　that　“[t]he　conclusions　of　Stoddards　novels　understandably　disappoint　modern　readers.　Because　she　provides　powerful　critiques　of　domesticity　and　of　marriage　law，　her　heroines　marriages　can　seem　like　a　capitulation　to　the　prevailing　culture...　With　her　ending，　Stoddard　does　not　seem　to　be　envisioning　a　practical　solution　for　womens　lack　of　selfpossession”　(428，　438).　In　other　words，　Cassandra　has　not　truly　broken　free　from　the　entrapment　of　domesticity.　Despite　different　opinions　regarding　the　ending　of　The　Morgesons，　the　union　between　Cassandra　and　Desmond　marks　a　big　step　toward　equality　between　the　two　genders　in　marriage.

Moreover，　there　is　a　comparison　of　the　two　marriages　toward　the　end　of　her　novel.　Although　the　union　between　Cassandra　and　Desmond　can　be　considered　as　successful，　Stoddard　depicts　Veronicas　union　with　Ben　as　a　failure，　which　reflects　her　view　that　marriage　is　not　always　the　proper　dose　to　liberate　woman　from　her　entrapment　in　various　scenarios.　Veronicas　hesitancy　toward　marriage　is　described　as　follows：　“She　thought　it　strange　that　people　should　marry，　and　could　not　decide　whether　it　was　the　sublimest　or　the　most　inglorious　act　of　ones　life”　(236).　Also，　Verry　decides　to　wear　a　black　silk　dress　for　her　wedding.　Veronicas　hesitancy　comes　from　the　uncertainty　she　feels　toward　the　changes　of　her　life.　Veronica　embarks　on　married　life　with　much　greater　ambivalence　and　far　less　faith　in　the　future.　As　Verry　prepares　for　Bens　arrival，　Cassandra　“observed　that　she　put　in　order　all　her　possessions，　as　if　she　were　going　to　undertake　a　long　and　uncertain　voyage.”　Verry　meticulously　arranges　her　room，　putting　all　her　personal　items　away　to　make　way　for　Ben，　who　is　to　move　in　with　the　Morgesons.　Veronicas　reluctance　to　give　up　her　room　reflects　her　greater　misgivings　about　relinquishing　her　identity.　(Mahoney　47)Mahoney　here　stresses　Veronicas　ambivalence　and　uncertainty　toward　the　upcoming　marriage.　Verry　appears　reluctant　to　give　up　her　autonomy.In　reality　it　also　took　Elizabeth　Stoddard　quite　some　time　to　make　the　final　decision　of　marrying　Richard.　One　can　assume　that　the　issue　of　giving　up　her　autonomy　bothered　young　Stoddard　as　well.　On　the　other　hand，　Ben　Somers　is　not　certain　about　his　choice　of　wife　either.　He　asks　Cassy：　“Will　she　never　understand　me?”　(160).　Cassys　answer　is：　“Veronica　probably　will　not　understand　you，　but　you　must　manage　for　yourself”　(160).　The　uncertainty　on　both　the　brides　and　grooms　parts　are　representative　of　ill　forebodings　for　their　union.