Introduction To Women`s Poetry

. 'The poetess accepts that she must display characteristics associated with femininity, such as delicacy, modesty, charm, domesticity...[ she] typically presents a sanitized version of herself; she and her poetry are deodorized, depilated and submissive...'(Germaine Greer). Is this an accurate and adequate account of the poetic work of Anne Finch? Whilst it is undoubtedly true that Anne Finch was a poet of her time, which subsequently was reflected in her oeuvre, the talent of the Countess of Winchelsea was certainly not 'grown about with weeds and bound with briars' , as suggested by Woolf, nor was it completely stifled and censored by the demands of patriarchal Restoration England. Though she obeyed the literary conventions and subjects of her time, Finch also deviated from this path, and even established an exchange with the much celebrated Alexander Pope, perhaps not too surprising as 'the seventeenth century was indeed a century of revolution for women writers, whose numbers vastly increased' . Thus, Greer's above assertion does not do justice to Finch's work, poetry that whilst obeying the themes and conventions of the lyric poetry of her time, was nevertheless subversively intelligent and insightful. Evidence of Finch's poetry that is 'deodorized, depilated and submissive' is perhaps best demonstrated in 'The Introduction', a poem the Countess allowed to be published in 1713 in a collection of her manuscri pts. In it, Finch muses upon the traditional requirements for a women: 'Good breeding, fashion, dancing, dressing, play/ Are the accomplishments we should desire' but deems them not satisfying enough. Although she does not deviate from the traditional metre of the heroic couplet, 'the predominant English measure for all the poetic kinds' , she offers a striking insight into the obstacles that confront a female poet in seventeenth century England. Finch chooses to write, though she may be 'Such an intruder on the rights of men' (l.10), but she is always conscious of how her work will be received, lest it be seen to be 'insipid, empty, uncorrect' (l.4). Thus,' a note of apology or defiance, or both, generally hovers somewhere near the surface of...Finch's work' , and this is particularly well demonstrated in 'The Introduction' .She resigns herself to the fact that 'For groves of laurel thou wert never meant: / Be dark enough thy shades, and be thou there content.'(ll.63-64). Finch's allusion to the laurel, a symbol of poetic endeavour is particularly significant, as it seems she laments upon an achievement that will never be properly recognised due to her gender. Thus, it is certainly true that Finch's poetry was a product of her time, and this is also reflected in the subject matter of her work. Her poem addressed to the unknown Ephelia and its discussion of the true nature of female friendship, for example, is evidence of this. Ultimately she concludes that 'Tis to share all joy and grief; / 'Tis to lend all due relief/ From the tongue, the heart, the hand' , and this universality is emphasised due to Finch's decision not to use her given name. Also, according to Hinnant, Finch conforms to a popular convention of seventeenth- century women's poetry: she adopts a pastoral sobriquet ("Ardelia") that is intended to preserve her privacy and yet present a construction of the self. Thus, Finch preserves her anonymity and her reputation and still manages to convey her viewpoint. However, it can also be argued that although the notion of friendship was a relatively tame topic for a female poet to discuss, it was nevertheless subversive because it was a subject often used as a focus by male poets. This disguised subversion in Finch's poetry is also evident in her demonstration of her love for her husband Heneage in 'Letter to Daphnis'. Once again, she uses a sobriquet to refer to her husband; 'Daphnis I love, Daphnis my thoughts pursue; / Daphnis, my hopes and joys are bounded all in you' .Thus, her devotion to her husband seems clear in this traditional love poem. However, according to Mermin, 'Women could not speak in the voices of bard, theologian, scholar or courtly lover of a distant ideal object' , but this appears to be exactly what Finch is doing. If we are to agree with the definition of poetry having always been 'associated with the expression of individual feeling, often strong and personal feeling' , then this is certainly a definition that applies to Finch's work, with evidence of a real lack of the 'deodorized, depilated, submissive' characteristics that are suggested by Greer. By imitating courtly love poetry traditionally written by men, she is 'giving those poetic forms and tropes an ironic and subversive twist by speaking through them as a woman.' , further evidence of Finch's skill at moulding traditional forms into her own, without damaging her reputation as a woman and a poet. This is once again demonstrated in Finch's Pindaric 'The Spleen', though to a greater effect. Though she is commenting on depression, an ailment traditionally said to affect women, it is nevertheless a searing and scathing insight into the nature of melancholy, and those who pretend to be afflicted with it. Her use of storm and sea imagery, for example, is particularly effective; 'Now a Dead Sea thou'lt represent, / A calm of stupid discontent, / Then, dashing on the rocks wilt rage into a storm' . This polymorphous nature of depression is also demonstrated by Finch's reference to the shape-shifting Greek sea-god Proteus. It appears to be a tangible feeling for her, a force that makes her 'verse decay, and my cramped numbers fail' (l.76). According to Gilbert and Gubar, 'the lyric poem is in some sense the utterance of a strong and assertive "I"' , and this is evident in the confessional tone used by Finch in the poem. However, it is her attack upon the pretenders of illness that perhaps demonstrates best this subversion of hers. She alludes to the Coquette, a frequently used satirical figure of the Restoration period, 'whom ev'ry fool admires' (l. 99), and to the 'imperious wife' (l. 53) that achieves her ends 'Through the o'er-cast and show'ring eyes (l. 57), both of whom use depression as a means of getting what they want. Finch also launches a scathing attack on the fraudulent physicians who offer a cure, but instead only seek to make money that is 'daily increased by ladies fees' (l. 140), demonstrating once again her skill for caustic observation. Finch's exchange with Alexander Pope is also extremely significant in terms of demonstrating a poetess that is not completely restrained by her gender. According to Shattock, she 'contributed prefatory poems to Pope's 'Collected Works' in 1717 and he included some of her unpublished poems in his 'Poems on Several Occasions, also in 1717' , evidence of the mutual respect that the two poets felt for each other. Her response to Pope's 'Impromptu', in which he explicitly refers to Finch's lack of poetic skill is both intelligent and humorous. She took offence at the lines 'Fate doomed the fall of every female wit; / But doomed it then, when first Ardelia writ.' , and chose to reply in the form of her poem 'The Answer'. In it, she likens Pope to Orpheus, the famous figure in Greek mythology who was torn to pieces by the Maenads after he chose to eschew women. Finch encourages him to remember the fate of Orpheus, but it is also in jest, as she reassures Pope that 'You need not fear his awkward fate, / The lock won't cost the head.' , a reference to his famous work 'The Rape of the Lock'. Once again, Finch demonstrates a talent that is far removed from submissiveness. Thus, whilst superficially it may seem that Anne Finch's poetry is at times limited by her gender, ultimately this is not the case. As she does not alter the traditional forms of poetry, this allows her to be subversive in other ways, ways that which at times are not completely obvious. Closer examination of her work finds her to be astute and intelligent, all too aware of the limitations placed upon her by her sex, but not so afraid of them that she is completely stifled. She sends a clear message to other female poets, urging them 'not to be limited by the lives others might choose for them, to thrive and soar in the imagination, even when they cannot do so in public life' . One could even go so far to say that she is perhaps one of the 'poetic grandmothers' that Elizabeth Barrett Browning so ardently sought after. After all, 'Unlike many of her predecessors, Anne Finch, Countess of Winchelsea, was both well known as a poet in her own lifetime and widely praised and imitated after her death.' , and her recent re-entry into the poetic canon is evidence of this.