November 23, 2009

            I originally searched for bigamy in the National Police Gazette because I thought it would be interesting to read about other instances of bigamy in light of Ann Carson, and because you really don’t hear about too many cases of bigamy now. First of all, this makes me wonder how prevalent bigamy was in the early republic. I can imagine that it was more common, and the two articles about bigamy that I pulled up provide pretty good reasons for bigamy at such a time. In one of these instances, the man forged divorce papers to show to his new wife (Article 10). I think this is an interesting example of bigamy because of what it says about the prevalence of counterfeiting in different forms. Just as we have seen in the texts we have read, early Americans did not only counterfeit bills, but also their identities. In a changing republic when everyone is just figuring out what it means to be an American, people can “counterfeit” practically anything to test both the boundaries of the law and their own will.

            I also think this example is interesting because it shows how we prove or believe in important facts or truths about ourselves. The idea of counterfeit divorce makes me wonder what it really means to different people to be married. You can be married but “separated” (without documentation), or you can be legally separated with a court order. It seems strange that a document or a court decides when a committed relationship is over. Wouldn’t it make sense that if one party in the marriage feels strongly enough to create forged documents of divorce that the divorce should be recognized? That marriage is more than likely over, no matter what the law says. The idea of declaring your own divorce reminds me of an instance on The Office when Michael wants to declare bankruptcy so he walks out into his office and yells, “I declare bankruptcy!” Then one of the accountants has to let him know that that is not how bankruptcy works. I am also reminded of how Brazil was made independent by a declaration of the Prince of Portugal one day out in the forests of Brazil. And how America’s independence was declared by a (I would imagine) illegal document… Really, if a country can declare its independence in a self-made document, why can’t a man claim independence in the same manner? There are other factors here (he wasn’t sending the divorce papers to his first wife but to his second), but the principles remain the same.

            The other incident of bigamy I thought was interesting because the woman, Margaret Hastings, had a husband who was a sailor (Article 5). The article does not mention how long her husband has been away, but I would imagine it has been a long time because she has been the housekeeper at her new husband’s house. This incident also questions the principles of marriage. How long do you remain married to someone you haven’t seen in years? Apparently, legally you stay married indefinitely. I also think that this instance of bigamy is interesting because it says that another man made the “complaint” about this bigamous marriage. I have always wondered why bigamy is a social or legal issue at all. How is it hurting anyone else to have more than one spouse? I’m not pro-bigamy by any means, but I’m just not sure how it is the government’s business. And this argument then makes me wonder about government involvement within marriage at all, which could obviously get into a controversial contemporary debate. That’s kind of a long digression, but I do think it points out that the issues of the early republic are still at the heart of issues we struggle with today.

            I also thought some of the language in this second article was interesting. The bigamist Margaret is described as “the fair Margaret.” The writer gives the opinion that Margaret is “fair” or attractive.  A journalist does not need to give such an opinion, and it is interesting that he would give a favorable opinion of a criminal. On the same page two robberies are described as “daring.” I wonder when journalists started to be more objective. This also might be an interesting discussion point- what do we learn about society’s views of crime and criminals from the rhetoric of journalism?

 

Works Cited:

Article 10-

The National Police Gazette (1845-1906).  New York:Jan 17, 1846.  Iss. 19,  p. 176  (1 pp.)

 

Article 5-

The National Police Gazette (1845-1906).  New York:Jan 31, 1846.  Vol. 1,  Iss. 21,  p. 189  (1 pp.)

November 16, 2009

            I enjoyed reading Mrs. Clarke’s portion of the Ann Carson memoirs this week. Throughout this course we have seen the highly questionable nature of authorship and authenticity in literature (if we even dare to call it literature- but that’s another post), but through Mrs. Clarke’s account we see an actual debate over the authorship of this work and what rights that entails. Mrs. Clarke does not begin her section with much authority. She writes, “Mrs. Carson ceases to be her own biographer, and Mrs. Clark now assumes the pen” (126). Mrs. Clarke gives Mrs. Carson much more authority over the text than was necessary by asserting that Mrs. Carson ever even was her “own biographer.” Through the rest of Mrs. Clarke’s writing, however, it becomes clear that Mrs. Carson was not her own “biographer” but a storyteller to Mrs. Clarke. There is also a very interesting exchange in the line, “Mrs. Clarke now assumes the pen.” These two lines are both passive on the part of Mrs. Carson. She does not willingly relinquish her biography to Mrs. Clarke, she merely “ceases” to have control. Mrs. Clarke, however, actively assumes the pen. By assuming the pen she assumes control, power, voice, and possibly even masculine authority (although really, I think people read too much into phallic symbols- sometimes a pen is just a pen). This exchange of values is especially interesting in light of the fate rhetoric that has been used in Carson’s memoir. Goods and values are the victims of fate just as people are, but here there seems to be an intentional exchange. It is not fate that led Mrs. Carson to give her biography over to Mrs. Clarke. I think that makes sense, though, because writing is not the result of fate. Writing is an active choice. Authors are not chanced upon, they are created.

            I really enjoyed the debate between Mrs. Carson and Mrs. Clarke over the changes Mr. D wishes them to make. Mrs. Carson refuses to change anything in the memoirs to please him, and says that Mr. D “dare not publish it without my permission” (161). Mrs. Clarke does not let Mrs. Carson delude herself any further about her supposed authorship and rights. She says, “you are mistaken, the book is mine, as I wrote it, and it shall be altered” (161). Mrs. Clarke does not allow her authorship to be questioned or run over by Mrs. Carson. I think this is especially fitting in light of Mrs. Carson’s budding counterfeiting career. She is unsuccessful in attempting to counterfeit authorship. It seems to me that Mrs. Carson is not really a true counterfeiter like perhaps Tufts and Burroughs were, however. Burroughs was clever, for example when he preached a sermon about a quite random and obscure verse in order to convince the Pelhamites that he really was a preacher, and Tufts was constantly tricking people through imitation. Mrs. Carson is not as successful. Even her money counterfeiting is not very successful. In this instance she does not use “confidence-man” techniques to win over Mrs. Clarke. She plays it straight pretending like it really is her book. I think Mrs. Carson is not truly a counterfeiter. She is perhaps a “fallen woman” who made some questionable decisions regarding men, marriage, and conspiracies, but counterfeiting is not a part of her nature like it is for Tufts and Burroughs. As I mentioned in my last post, the beginning of her story is a fairly average account of the love interests of a young woman. I am tempted to say that Mrs. Carson belongs to a different genre from Tufts and Burroughs. We have discussed the sentimental-novel aspects of her work, and perhaps she would fit better with that set. Removing Ann Carson’s memoirs from the group containing Tufts and Burroughs makes me wonder if there could truly be a confidence-woman. Could a woman have lived the life of Tufts and Burroughs? And what would her narrative be like? 

November 9, 2009

            As I have read more of Ann’s memoir, I have tried to compare the representation of her to that of Tufts and Burroughs. At first I am inclined to think that she is a careless rogue much like they are. Her behavior is wild, and her resistance to authority after the arrests of her and Smyth seems quite in line with the various jail-break attempts (and successes) of Tufts and Burroughs. She also seems quite careless of the opinion of society at times, also like Tufts and Burroughs. I was really struck by how she said that she laughed when she heard rumors about how her china was broken as a part of a trap for her various lovers. She appears quite callous and cold at times like this. She is also harsh when she is asked if she will forgive her enemies as a Christian should: “I was too well acquainted with the hypocrisy of many professed Christians not to question their sincerity” (367). Despite these instances, I think that Ms. Clarke does a better job of creating a possibly innocent and sympathetic character. The expressions on religion are somewhat contradictory. Ann also says, “I trust that God, who sees our most secret thoughts and intentions not only views the actions, but the motive from whence it originated” (284). Thus Ann does not attack religion throughout the text and create herself as quite the enemy of the church that Tufts does. Ann also does not profess serious monetary ambition like Tufts and Burroughs. She is not trying to have “a gentleman’s life.” If the memoirs are to be believed, she is really just trying to have a life, with maybe a few more men thrown in than the average post-colonial lady. For the first fifty pages or so, her memoirs are the account of a fairly normal life. Tufts and Burroughs, on the other hand, begin mischief from an early age. Ann’s crimes are also quite different from those of the men we have read. Her consistent crimes throughout her memoirs are relational and sexual. Tufts and Burroughs commit many sexual crimes, but these are secondary to their stealing and counterfeiting exploits. Ann’s main sin is really just the hobby of Tufts and Burroughs. She is therefore more sympathetic, and her insistence that her life is a result of fate is much more believable. At least, I find it more believable that relationships would just “happen” than horse-stealing.

            After reading the excerpts from Cathy Davidson’s Revolution and the Word, I am curious as to how Ann’s memoirs examines or adds to the crisis of authority. Ann resists authority on several occasions. She refuses to return to Captain Carson despite his demands and she refuses to be moved to a different cell in the jail. On a larger scale, however, how does this text question authority? It seems to purposefully irritate those who are afraid of male authority being lost by women reading privately. Ann says that she reads privately repeatedly, and her memoir is just the kind of thing that men would not want women to read privately. Although Tufts’ history is at times more blatantly scandalous, Ann Carson’s memoirs show a woman participating in scandalous activity. The writer of “Novel Reading, A Cause of Female Depravity” is obviously much more concerned about women’s behavior than men’s as he (or she I guess) calls for “pure and spotless CHASTITY.” This writer is not worried about the men that ruthlessly pursue women, but only about the “concealed bosoms” of the women those men might encounter. I would imagine that Ann’s memoirs would cause a great amount of concern regarding how it may question or cause others to question authority because it is written about a woman, by women.

            A side note, I realized about halfway through writing this that I referred to Tufts and Burroughs by their surnames, but I continued to use Ms. Carson’s Christian name. What does this say about my subconscious? Am I sexist? Is it because a woman’s last name changes and so I would rather stick with the name that doesn’t change? Ack, now I have to go examine my own subconscious…

November 2, 2009

So far my main response to Mrs. Ann Carson has been something like, "Oh the rhetoric!" Maybe that's a tad dramatic, but so is Mrs. Carson. She writes about liberty more times than Henry Tufts changed wives. Her discussion of liberty is interesting especially in light of the other authors we have read so far. She is, obviously, the first woman, and liberty means something different to her than it does to the men. She talks about the relative liberty she enjoys when her husband leaves on voyages. Really, she did have a much greater degree of liberty within her marriage than most women of her time. But her liberty is quite different from the liberty of Tufts or Burroughs. Tufts and Burroughs enjoyed the liberty to go anywhere and do anything. Liberty to them meant not being in jail and having the ability to eat and be merry. They also enjoyed their sexual liberty. Carson must defend herself against charges of any exercise of sexual liberty. I could be wrong, but I don't recall her using liberty at all in terms of her sexuality. I think it will be interesting to continue to look at Carson's discussion of liberty and her sexuality, since we know that she will develop more fully into America's notorious "fallen woman."

I was also struck by Carson's use of language that referenced fate and/or luck. She says on more than one occasion that "the die was cast." She uses fate rhetoric to describe relationships, such as, "the die was cast; I had drawn a blank in the matrimonial lottery" (83). I think it would interesting to look at the difference between male and female rhetoric of fate. Tufts describes women as witches that have entranced him, making him a passive participant in the relationship, but I think Carson's rhetoric is different. It seems that her relationships are part of a larger scale of fate and destiny that spans across her entire life. She alludes to the future that she is already experiencing frequently at the beginning of the narrative. Her foreshadowing creates more reality in her belief in destiny than Burroughs does with his philosophy.

Carson mentions reading frequently in her narrative. This detail is also quite different from Burroughs and Tufts, who pretend to be uneducated despite nearly constant classical references. Carson is not just a contributer to print culture, she is also a consumer of it. How does this affect her understanding of and response to publication? She is also not the immediate deviant and counterfeiter that Tufts and Burroughs are. Tufts and Burroughs admit to very early inclinations towards deviance and stealing, but Carson paints herself as a normal girl and young woman. Carson roots herself into accepted society before she participates in illegal activity more thoroughly than the males we have examined. I wonder how much of that may be because she is a woman. Women were dependent on men and society for day-to-day necessities much more than men, and thus it seems natural that a woman would be more inclined to attempt to be accepted by society. In addition to looking at how Carson's gender affects her rhetoric, I think it will be interesting to look at how her gender affects her deviance versus her desire for acceptance and stability.

October 26, 2009

I found the last three pages or so some of the most interesting in Tufts. He says on  p. 364, "I have worn no masks, no disguises, but have appeared in my every day dress." This remark is particularly interesting after all of the various forms of dress we have seen him wear. He has gone through several sets of clothes, some stolen and some bought, and has escaped from jail naked and made clothes from women's undergarments and pew pillows. If this is the every day dress of Henry Tufts, who is Henry Tufts? He most reminds me of an actor or a jester. His clothes are often ridiculous and comical, and they represent the outlandishness of his life. Since the two essential elements of disguise are performance and costume, it is fitting that his clothes should demonstrate his characteristics. As a counterfeiter, Tufts skillfully uses clothes to become whoever he needs to be. Two of his most memorable costumes represent two of his recurring personalities. He steals a church pew and makes underwear, which I think strikingly reflects his continual subversion of religion through his imitations of prayer and preaching and his reverence for superstition and fortune. He also attempts to make clothes out of women's undergarments, which illustrates his sensuality. His use of material that would be very close to a woman's skin exhibits his own constant desire for women.

I think it is also significant that the clothing market was vastly changing at this time. Mills and factories were just emerging in the American northeast and making a huge difference in communities. Clothes used to be a scarce commodity; they were the result of hard labor, and that probably by a woman within the family. With the introduction of factories and mills, clothing became literally distanced from people, even though once worn that distance was diminished. Eventually clothes also became cheaper. Instead of having a few items, Americans now have closets jammed with clothes. Clothes still play a significant part in self-representation, but they are vastly more interchangeable than they were in Tufts time. It is much easier for us to deceive others (and ourselves) through a quick costume change than it would have been for Tufts and his fellow rogues.

Another remark of Tufts that really struck me on these last Tufts was when he quoted Romans 6:23, "the wages of sin is death." He stops this verse just before the all-important "but"; "but the gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord." Instead of finishing the verse, Tufts shares his own harsh view of judgment and religion. He writes, "the wages of a vicious, dissolute life is punishment" (365). He has seen a lot of punishment, but as is typical of Tufts and other counterfeiters, he feels his punishment his curse and not the natural result of deviant behavior. Tufts chooses to quote law over gospel. The gospel would set him free from sin and give him a new life and a new chance. Instead, he wallows in his punishments. He traps himself in a pattern of stealing and counterfeiting instead of finding a new start. His choice of the old testament (the law) over the new is especially interesting in light of his position within a new republic. Shouldn't the citizens of a new nation have hope for new beginnings? Instead, Tufts seems to damn himself. He resigns himself to the "certain doom" rather than trying to truly reinvent himself into the persona he has not yet tried- an honest man.

October 19, 2009

I am really enjoying reading Johnson along with Tufts' narrative because it opens up questions about how Tufts fits in with a forming nation. I am especially interested in the "neighboring" concept that Johnson discusses and how Tufts rebelled against that system. His stealing and the destruction of his own "credit" cut him off from his neighbors and the community at large. Tufts points out on several occasions that he could not really return to a normal life after a certain point because of his ruined reputation. By ruining trust he eliminated his ability to function in the neighboring economy. Stealing and cheating of course has negative and isolating effects in our society as well, but in an economy that was based on face to face recognition and trust, stealing was more like economic suicide. We now have numeric values to place on our credit that can be transmitted electronically. I give you my credit score, you sell me a car. The early Americans had to look someone in the eye who would judge them based on gossip, truth, and appearance. The distance provided by literal distance across a vast country and the internet allows buying, selling, and trust to become much less personal.

I think it is interesting to read Tufts as a figure rebelling against many different forms of community. Not only was he rebelling against an economic community, but also a community of friends and neighbors. He picks up a nomadic lifestyle that is partly a result of his criminal activities and that separates him from his family. He also determinedly rebels against marriage conventions and the familial community through his many affairs. He makes no spiritual mentions of God, and thus rebels against the religious community that surrounds him.

How important is community in the formation of a nation? I think that can depend partly on the rhetoric used to discuss the state. Is it a nation, a government, or a country? A government implies a ruling body that may or may not create a community. A nation, however, gives a sense of commonality amongst individuals. A government taxes and starts wars, but a nation competes in the Olympics. So what were all of these men trying to create in the formation of the United States? They discussed and tried to form an ideal "government," but while Washington had these debates, Johnson shows that the people in the countryside and the emerging cities like New York and Philadelphia were creating a nation and a people. Tufts shows the value of individual liberty in a nation made up of individuals. He tries to take liberty as far as it can go. Perhaps that is really how nations are created; through testing the limits.

Tufts also tests the boundaries of another word: fortune. Tufts is a fortune teller, a sufferer of misfortunes, and the constant receiver of fortune. I think that Tufts repetition of fortune is related to his test of liberty because it demonstrates a lack of personal responsibility. The all-mighty fortune can be blamed for every good or bad thing that happens to us or that we do to other people. Fortune is another exercise of liberty as it is really just an excuse. Providence, on the other hand, would demonstrate a total lack of liberty. Providence is based on a belief in a will outside of our own that has absolute control. When we speak of providence, we give credit for the good and trust for relief from the bad to a higher power. Fortune is more convenient than providence because it does not come from the will of a deity, but from a throw of the dice.

October(!) 5, 2009

The exclamation point means I really like October.

I also like Tufts. Why? I am not really sure. He certainly is worshipping at the altar of Venus more openly than Burroughs, and I feel like I should be offended by that, but I'm not. I'm intrigued by his notions of truth and the truth he wishes to convey in his narrative. He says in the preface, "concealment has become no longer useful, and the suppression of truth unnecessary" (iv-v). His story is built on his deeds of un-truth; both in literal lies and the deception of stealing and counterfeiting. But he claims to be truthful as he relates his narrative because there is no point in not telling the truth. This point reveals something in the nature of

Tufts, and perhaps in the nature of humanity in general. He tells the truth only as it is useful. To what degree do we all do this? To what degree are all of our utterances utilitarian? Are all of our words serving our own purposes, or do they serve their own purposes? Or the purposes of "truth"? I seem to be getting back to Bakhtin. I think I want to think that words work both independently and dependently. They serve our purposes, but they also dialogically interact and support greater, larger purposes. We never have complete control of our words, and they still hold allegiance to greater truths than we intend or are aware of.

Tufts goes on to say on that same page that, "truth, not fiction, [is] the object of my views." Tufts reveals something about the audience he expects for his narrative. They will not be picking up a "fiction" (a novel?), but a truth. He enriches the definition of the title his work is given, which on the cover page is narrative, not memoir. That is interesting because I would be more likely to associate truth and accuracy with a memoir than a narrative. He also says that he has at least some intention of amusing or entertaining his audience. He wonders at why "fable and romance have long amused the world ... [and] not plain truth and real fact" (vii). Why do we enjoy fiction? Surely people's own lives have consisted of romances and adventures enough to amuse society. Certainly real people's lives may provide more insight into the human condition, since they are literally formed from the human condition. But art often strives for truth made from un-truth. I read once that Van Gogh said he did not use the colors that he actually saw, but the colors that felt real* (this is a drastic paraphrase and interpretation, forgive me). Fiction uses the colors, the words, the characters, that feel more true than the truth often does.

Like this picture. I love this painting. I connect with it. It feels so true even though no one has ever been that blue. So in addition to what is literature, I think Tufts makes us ask, what is truth? What is fiction? And, what's important?

*"Instead of trying to reproduce exactly what I see before me, I make more arbitrary use of color to express myself more forcefully." 

[Letter to Theo van Gogh, 11 August 1888]- from http://painting.about.com/od/artandartistquotes/a/Quotes_Van_Gogh.htm

September 28, 2009

I thought the handout on Birkerts' The Gutenberg Elegies was interesting. Although I am very impressed with much of his foresight into what will occur in print culture (and what already has since 1994), I am not sure that the situation is as drastic as he thinks it is. For example, I don't think language will lose it's complexity and depth of meaning because of electronic communication. I don't know too much about linguistics, but one of the few things I do know is that languages are universally complex and logical. Just because a language or a dialect does not look the way we are used to seeing "proper" grammar does not mean it is not logical and complex. I do not think that language will lose subtlety, wit, and irony because of electronic communication. Electronic communication is primarily for the masses, and were the masses ever the masters of wit and paradox? No, but they have always been able to communicate effectively, and often beautifully, whether in print, song, or visual representation. Clearly, electronic communication can be used for academic discourse as well as common communication (ahem.... blogs).

I am also interested in what was said on this handout about the lack of physical interaction that develops from electronic information and communication. It is true, I often communicate more with friends online than I do in person, and I definitely prefer to research online than in the library. I am just not sure as to what the implications of these preferences and practices are. As far as friendship and love are concerned, I think that technology has increased our capacity for maintaining relationships. Personally, it has been much easier for me to maintain deep, meaningful friendships because of e-mail and facebook. When I do have the opportunity of seeing those people face to face, I think our interaction is enriched by the communication we have had online. With the invention of the railroad two centuries behind us, society has long moved past the age when everyone one might communicate with remained in relative proximity. Communication, and print, must change to keep up with the physical distance.

This handout has prompted me to think about how print culture has changed since Stephen Burroughs wrote his memoir. People who think they are more important than they are still write memoirs. And those memoirs are still read by lots of people. The letters that are included in his memoir are interesting in light of the topic of the changes in print culture. Traditional "correspondence" has all but diminished from popular society. But we can see from Burroughs' memoir that that may not be a bad thing. He says he wrote several letters to his father that his father never received (if we can believe him that he actually wrote them, that is). Burroughs also has hardly any communication with his wife and family when he is separated from them. He also has no way of knowing that his whole reason for going all the way to Georgia has already left the state. Then we must also consider the literacy rate and how that would effect Burroughs' readership. Even if people are not reading as closely as they once did, as Birkets says, at least people are reading.

I would also be really interested in looking at how the carnivalesque interacts with the changes in print culture, but I do not feel competent enough on this subject to get to into it yet. From what I do think I understood of Vice, however, the larger public body is important to carnival elements. What does it mean then that electronic print allows for the larger public body to interact in the same texts more readily? People can also actively respond to the actors because of electronic print. Does that more electronic print more carnivalesque?

September 21, 2009

I found Vice's explanation of polyphony very interesting. I immediately thought of J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan, which I think has one of the most unique narrators in fiction. I wrote a paper on that narrator for a class last year, but I wish I had read Bakhtin before that. In Peter Pan, the narrator is obviously (and humorously) intrusive. At one point, the narrator is describing how exactly Hook uses his hook to kill. The narrator then says, "Let us now kill a pirate" and immediately a pirate is brought forward and Hook obediently kills him. This narrator is not recounting a story that has taken place, but is actually creating the story as he (or she, but really I think it's a he) is telling it. Vice cites that Bakhtin has commented on the polyphony within Dostoevsky: "the author's discourse about a character is organized as discourse about someone actually present, someone who hears him (the author) and is capable of answering him." Barrie's text is not polyphonic because the characters do not have control over their actions. What is unique about Barrie's text, however, is that the narrator is so obviously, and playfully, in control.

As I began again with Burroughs, I wanted to apply some of this polyphonic discussion to that text. I realized, however, that I don't think we have discussed Burroughs too much as a narrator. I am not sure what historical evidence we have about the writing of this memoir. Do we know that Burroughs is the author? Is he the sole author? I was also very curious in this reading about all of the letters Burroughs included. I do not really trust Burroughs that those letters are entirely, or perhaps even partially, accurate. Those letters are also an interesting piece of dialogism. They are the words of one person as read, interpreted, and reprinted by their intended reader, then read, interpreted, and reprinted by an unintended reader (an editor), and then finally read and interpreted by me. How much of their original intent must have been lost through all of these filters? 

I found that most of those letters were curiously flattering of Burroughs. His wife's plea to the court was especially vexing. He admits in his memoir to having sexual relations with one of his students, but his wife insists on how excellent a husband he is and that he should be released from prison for her sake. Although I was frustrated with both Burroughs and her, I did find that her plea brought an interesting (and I think largely unintentional) feminist issue into the text. Her plea points out the hopeless situation of women who must rely on their husbands for sole economic stability. Burroughs's text overall is largely egotistical and self-serving, but the inclusion of this letter does show a larger political problem. Burroughs attempts to be political and philosophical with his rants against the government and the court system for the injustices he has faced (he compares himself to slaves- really?), but I think that his wife's letter more compellingly argues a real problem in the early republic. What is a woman to do when her husband turns out to be a selfish, counterfeiting, sexual predator?

On his more philosophical musings, I thought it was interesting that a con man would agree so much with Confucius. Burroughs writes about benevolence, and he believes that the state should treat its subjects as children. He believes that children will mirror their parents' benevolence, and thus they will be deterred from crime. Confucius had the same thoughts about leadership, but I'm also pretty sure that Confucius did not have as much trouble with the law. Burroughs repetition of a great thinker's thoughts creates another interesting dialogic question. What happens when an utterance is dialogically responding and interacting with a previous utterance made by a very different person? To what extent does the identity of the speaker affect the meaning of an utterance? Burroughs may not be the most trusted or reliable narrator, but does that make his words any less true? Perhaps benevolence really is the best way to lead, not just the most convenient solution for Burroughs.

For September 14

Let's just start with Bakhtin and get him out of the way. Oh, I jest. This reading was much better. And an article I just read for another class had Bakhtin, heteroglossia, and dialogism all over it, and it was exciting to have a faint idea of what the author was talking about.

"Words, phrases, utterances in general, place themselves and interact in a momentary spark of meaning" (47). I think this is an interesting idea because it is so true, and this is the reason why we study language. We would not have much to discuss, analyze, and re-read if language was stagnant or permanent. We talk about the "definitions" of words, but such a discussion is never as short or as simple as it first seems it should be. There are primary definitions, then secondary definitions, and then we need to think about all the different connotations. These connotations themselves change based on people, situation, context, setting, time, pitch, and certainly many, possibly an infinite number of, other elements.

I also thought it was interesting what Vice recorded of Bakhtin's ideas on Dostoevsky's contradictions within a character. Bakhtin wrote, "One could say, in fact, that out of every contradiction within a single person Dostoevsky tries to create two persons, in order to dramatize the contradiction and develop it extensively" (57). I think this contradiction within individuals will be interesting to keep in mind in the examination of counterfeiters. Certainly counterfeiters will exhibit some contradictions. The confidence-man is full of contradictions as he portrays trustworthiness and good faith in the same instance that he steals and deceives. Are they essentially creating two-people? If you can counterfeit money, can you also counterfeit yourself? This possibility would suggest that there is dialogism outside of the written, or even spoken, word. Dialogism could possibly also exist within the very essence of the man. As he contradicts himself he creates another voice. These voices bounce off one another as individually as two people. If Bakhtin believed that language was part of the very essence of humanity and what it means to be human, then it would make sense that other elements and intricacies of language, like dialogism, are also present in man.

I very much enjoyed reading Stephen Burroughs' narrative. I found him interesting and a generally sympathetic character until the end of what I read for this week. Although he certainly faced cruel and unusual punishment in prison that I do not agree with, he did not seem to believe that he had any reason for being there. He emphasizes again and again how prejudiced they all were against him and how he never had a chance in his trial. Burroughs seems to be one of those people who is born thinking that the world is a bit against them. These people then use the unfair prejudice of the world as an excuse for any bad behavior. Burroughs was convinced while at Dartmouth that there was even a triumvirate against him, although the footnote seems to disagree (28). What would give Burroughs this victim mentality? Perhaps many other counterfeiters and confidence-men also see themselves as victims. If they could convince themselves that the big, bad, world has been out to get them, then they could more easily justify victimizing others.

I thought Burroughs' narrative also raised an interesting moral question concerning identity and expectations. Burroughs "pretends" to be a preacher in Pelham, and the townspeople are furious when they discover that he is not really a preacher. Their outrage raises a number of questions, the first of which may be, what is a preacher? Must he have some formal training? Must he have been ordained by a church? Or is it enough if he can deliver a good sermon? Perhaps the real significance comes from the earnestness of his heart. Before they knew he was not a preacher, the townspeople were satisfied with his job performance. He even passed a truly daunting test by creating a sermon about old shoes. If someone said they were a burger flipper and they flipped our burgers well and grilled them to perfection, we probably wouldn't really care if he had originally been making it up. Some lies are different. Some identities cannot be built solely on words; some must have been earnestly created to be authentic.

For August 31

I read the Bakhtin text before the counterfeit narratives, and I found Vice's work quite challenging. Vice claims to be writing the first basic introduction to Bakhtin. She says that other texts "presuppose a knowledge of Bakhtinian terminology and familiarity with his writings" (1). I thought Vice's work also presupposed some knowledge of terminology, and I had a lot of difficulty following her explanations. I was especially frustrated how she frequently used dialogism to explain and analyze heteroglossia without giving a comprehensive explanation of dialogism.

When first reading about heteroglossia, I understood the term to show the complexity of language through the many "languages" that make up one cohesive language. Vice describes heteroglossia initially as the interaction of genre, register, sociolect, and dialect. Essentially, I understood this to mean that heteroglossia explores the different ways people use one language in a variety of forms to serve a variety of means. Vice primarily uses Henry Roth's Call it Sleep to illustrate Bakhtin's idea of heteroglossia. The examples from Call it Sleep, however, primarily concern an interaction between what is more generally meant by "language." Vice discusses how Roth expresses English, Yiddish, Hebrew, and Polish through a single instrument, English. While I found Roth's tactics linguistically and artistically interesting, they actually confused me even more about the real meaning of heteroglossia. And again, Vice continually references dialogism, which only served to confuse me more.

Essentially, this is what I understand of Bakhtin after reading this first chapter of Vice: Heteroglossia describes the multilayered nature of language. An understanding of heteroglossia will give a reader a greater understanding of the complexities of meaning within the language. I am a bit afraid that I may be completely wrong about all of this, and I am pretty sure that Vice thinks I should also understand dialogized heteroglossia at this point, but I certainly do not.

I found the narratives much more approachable. The narratives raised interesting questions as I saw links between them. One of the first things that stuck out to me was the role of discipline in the lives of these men. They all ended up in what is essentially the most severe form of discipline our country allows- death row. For most of these men, this upcoming punishment has caused them to reflect upon their lives and look back with grief and regret. All but John Jubeart had faced criminal charges before and faced various types of punishment and imprisonment. The others, however, were not too greatly affected by these reprimands and calls for reformation. They broke out of their cells, even through quite elaborate and dangerous means, and after finding freedom took up counterfeiting and stealing once again. It is only when faced with death that these men change. I think their refusal to accept earlier punishment is related to an interesting remark by Owen Syllavan at the beginning of his narrative. He recounts an instance of punishment in which his parents kept him locked in a room. After a while he "seemed to humble myself; till I again obtained Liberty." I was struck by his remark on humility. What is the relationship between humility and discipline? Certainly many forms of discipline are meant to humble (and humiliate) the guilty person. The stocks, the dunce cap, branding, scarlet letters; all of these are at least partially meant to humble their victims. Which naturally leads to the question: Is humility the cure for vice? Are deviants acting primarily out of pride? The image of the confidence-man seems to agree with this idea. The line between innocent confidence and grievous pride is often very thin. How often confident people are mistaken as pompous, proud, and vain. Perhaps, even more often, everyone is not mistaken, and the general opinion is deserved. Pride and humility are also parts of our presentation and performance. Owen Syllavan is a prime example of how pride and humility can easily be just another part of the confidence-man's performance. He writes that he seemed to have humbled himself, and that this performance was convincing enough for his parents to release him from his punishment. The men in these narratives who are remorseful just before their deaths also certainly seem humble. They note their humble position before God as they are about to seek his judgment, and their humility appears genuine. But that, of course, brings up one of the major questions that is not necessarily definitively answerable: how can we trust these narratives when they are written by great deceivers? It will be interesting, however, to continue to examine the role of pride in some of society's most notorious deviants, and also how humility interacts with our ideas of discipline.

I also thought it was interesting how the counterfeiters wanted to make money and gain wealth to have "a gentleman's life" of ease and luxury, but none of them ever attained anything like it-even fleetingly. Most of the time they were so busy running from the law, they did not have the slightest chance of relaxing and enjoying their stolen wealth. This realization makes me distrust their motives for their thieving. Perhaps wealth and ease are the obvious answers and the easiest explanations to give for stealing, but it logically does not make sense. No one in fear of the law will ever have "a gentleman's life." I think it will also be interesting to continue to explore the motives behind crime. So far, my main observation has been that most of these men showed an outpour of emotion and frustration before they began their criminal activity. Isaac Frazier notes that he "gave rein to [his] covetous disposition" after his wife left him and he felt overwhelming despair.

I am interested to see how the rest of our counterfeiters fall in line with these first few examples. I also hope to gain a greater understanding of Bakhtin from our discussion. See you all soon!