Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University

Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University

23.12.2012 Views

96 WOOLFIAN BOUNDARIES Taxonomy in its popular, Victorian form was also rather prim. Although the Linnaean system of classifi cation was a sexual system, distinguishing between species based on the number, form, proportion, and situation of sexual organs, in translations and reformulations of Linnaean taxonomy meant for the general public, this basis was concealed: Patricia Fara highlights in particular William Withering’s “bowdlerised botany,” which “translated contentious words into harmless but meaningless English equivalents such as ‘chives’ and ‘pointals’” (42). Th e moralising of nature was one of the aspects of the Victorian practice of natural history that Woolf disdained, an attitude that placed her in agreement with the emerging class of professional biologists who, in the words of Suzanne Le-May Sheffi eld, “sought to rid science of its moral, religious and metaphysical associations” (179). Ormerod herself “focussed exclusively upon the practical utility of entomology, completely ignoring any entertainment value or moral or religious worth” (Sheffi eld 172). Woolf notes that the injurious insects that were Ormerod’s chosen specialty were “Not, one would have thought, among God’s most triumphant creations” (E4 136): the natural theology that had justifi ed the study of nature for much of the nineteenth century played no part in Ormerod’s motivation. Th ough her brother Edward sought to bar her from the unseemly study of anatomy, “never lik[ing] [her] to do more than take sections of teeth,” Ormerod persevered, and Woolf has her heroine preface her discussion of her anatomical investigations with the airy remark, “my brother— oh, he’s dead now—a very good man” (E4 136). Th e death of this embodiment of Victorian morality released Ormerod to engage with nature on new terms. Woolf regards this casting off of the moralised view of nature as Ormerod’s greatest triumph. Apostrophising Ormerod, Woolf declares: Ah, but Eleanor, the Bot and the Hessian have more power over you than Mr Edward Ormerod himself. Under the microscope you clearly perceive that these insects have organs, orifi ces, excrement; they do, most emphatically, copulate. Escorted on one side by the Bot or Warble, on the other by the Hessian Fly, Miss Ormerod advanced statelily, if slowly, into the open. Never did her features show more sublime than when lit up with the candour of her avowal. “Th is is excrement; these, though Ritzema Bos is positive to the contrary, are the generative organs of the male. I’ve proved it.” Upon her head the hood of Edinburgh most fi tly descended; pioneer of purity even more than of Paris Green. (E4 136) It is Ormerod’s frank, scientifi c treatment of anatomy, sex, and other bodily functions—purifying organs and excrement of taboo—that Woolf celebrates above all her other accomplishments. Clark takes Woolf’s description of Ormerod as “a pioneer of purity” as a demonstration of Woolf’s agreement with his own assessment that Ormerod denied her sexuality in order to achieve success in the masculine world of science. Yet Woolf’s description seems rather to suggest that Ormerod’s science, far from being grounded in a suppression or rejection of sex, was based upon a frank and unashamed treatment of it. It is this demystifi cation that Woolf highlights as well in her discussion of Ormerod’s campaign against the house sparrow. By the 1890s, the systematic destruction of birds of prey by farmers and game keepers had upset the “balance of birds,” as E. M Nicholson termed it (25): the numbers of natural predators had declined and as a result adaptable species such as the sparrow had proliferated and, in some areas, become pests. Th at the

Pests And Pesticides young Virginia Stephen was familiar with the sparrow problem is suggested by a diary entry from 6 June 1897: “we planted seed in the back garden. Th is is to produce grass—but whether the sparrows will have left any is a question. As soon as we had left the garden, the horrid little creatures swooped down twittering & made off with the oats” (PA 96). Controversy arose over the best method of addressing the proliferation of sparrows: sparrow clubs dedicated themselves to the extermination of the birds, but the domestic associations of the house sparrow in English culture and the biblical signifi cance of the sparrow suggested in the promise, “one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father” (Matt. 10.29), meant that the persecution of the sparrow was opposed with particular vehemence by Victorian animal protectionists. Woolf argues that the momentum of Ormerod’s scientifi c work compelled her, despite her cultivated “disposition” towards tradition, to defy conventional sentiment and in an act of “disloyal[ty] to much that she, and her fathers before her, held dear” set herself against the sparrow, emblem of “the homely virtue of English domestic life” (E4 139). As a scientist, Ormerod challenged conventions which as her father’s daughter she felt it her duty to protect, for her science accepted nothing as sacred just as it accepted nothing as profane. Th rough her campaign against the house sparrow, Woolf suggests, Ormerod set herself in opposition to both the traditionally feminine domestic sphere and the paternalism of Christian tradition and Victorian society more broadly. In her account of the sparrow controversy, Woolf displays no sympathy for Ormerod’s opponents, the animal protectionists. She mocks the moralising clergymen and sentimental ladies of the Animals’ Friend and the Humanitarian League. Woolf was not opposed to the cause of animal protection in principle. In an essay on the Plumage Bill she states that as a child she took a vow never to wear the plumes of wild birds because of the cruelty and destructiveness of the plumage trade (E3 241). Th e source of Woolf’s objections to the protectionist movement lay in the religiosity and sentimentality of tone which often characterised the movement’s rhetoric and the reinforcement of gender stereotypes which occurred under its banner. Th e Reverend J. E. Walker’s response to Ormerod’s campaign against the sparrow, printed in the Animals’ Friend under the title “God Save the Sparrow” (to which Woolf alludes in her essay), exemplifi es the biases of protectionist rhetoric: Madam,—It is with infi nite regret that I see a lady’s name quoted in the Daily Chronicle as giving “the sentence of death” to the very bird of which the gentle voice of the Son of God said…“one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.” Surely as having the compassionate heart of woman, unsteeled (I hope) by your scientifi c studies, you will feel a throb of agony whenever you hear those all-sacred words, and know that your verdict has been taken as a wholesale sentence of extermination…upon these birds, which “the Father” cares for. (241) Woolf’s bias against the Victorian protectionist position may be further explained through reference to the views of F. O. Morris, the clergyman-naturalist from whose works of piety-infused taxonomic natural history Virginia and her siblings fi rst learned the art of entomological collection and classifi cation. In Th e Sparrow Shooter, a pamphlet specifi cally targeting Ormerod, Morris defends the sparrow on biblical grounds and on the grounds of the bird’s good character: he opens his defence with the contention: 97

Pests And Pesticides<br />

young Virginia Stephen was familiar with the sparrow problem is suggested by a diary entry<br />

from 6 June 1897: “we planted seed in the back garden. Th is is to produce grass—but<br />

whether the sparrows will have left any is a question. As soon as we had left the garden, the<br />

horrid little creatures swooped down twittering & made off with the oats” (PA 96). Controversy<br />

arose over the best method of addressing the proliferation of sparrows: sparrow<br />

clubs dedicated themselves to the extermination of the birds, but the domestic associations<br />

of the house sparrow in English culture and the biblical signifi cance of the sparrow<br />

suggested in the promise, “one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father”<br />

(Matt. 10.29), meant that the persecution of the sparrow was opposed with particular<br />

vehemence by Victorian animal protectionists.<br />

Woolf argues that the momentum of Ormerod’s scientifi c work compelled her, despite<br />

her cultivated “disposition” towards tradition, to defy conventional sentiment and in<br />

an act of “disloyal[ty] to much that she, and her fathers before her, held dear” set herself<br />

against the sparrow, emblem of “the homely virtue of English domestic life” (E4 139). As<br />

a scientist, Ormerod challenged conventions which as her father’s daughter she felt it her<br />

duty to protect, for her science accepted nothing as sacred just as it accepted nothing as<br />

profane. Th rough her campaign against the house sparrow, Woolf suggests, Ormerod set<br />

herself in opposition to both the traditionally feminine domestic sphere and the paternalism<br />

of Christian tradition and Victorian society more broadly.<br />

In her account of the sparrow controversy, Woolf displays no sympathy for Ormerod’s<br />

opponents, the animal protectionists. She mocks the moralising clergymen and sentimental<br />

ladies of the Animals’ Friend and the Humanitarian League. Woolf was not opposed to<br />

the cause of animal protection in principle. In an essay on the Plumage Bill she states that<br />

as a child she took a vow never to wear the plumes of wild birds because of the cruelty<br />

and destructiveness of the plumage trade (E3 241). Th e source of Woolf’s objections to<br />

the protectionist movement lay in the religiosity and sentimentality of tone which often<br />

characterised the movement’s rhetoric and the reinforcement of gender stereotypes which<br />

occurred under its banner. Th e Reverend J. E. Walker’s response to Ormerod’s campaign<br />

against the sparrow, printed in the Animals’ Friend under the title “God Save the Sparrow”<br />

(to which Woolf alludes in her essay), exemplifi es the biases of protectionist rhetoric:<br />

Madam,—It is with infi nite regret that I see a lady’s name quoted in the Daily<br />

Chronicle as giving “the sentence of death” to the very bird of which the gentle<br />

voice of the Son of God said…“one of them shall not fall on the ground without<br />

your Father.” Surely as having the compassionate heart of woman, unsteeled (I<br />

hope) by your scientifi c studies, you will feel a throb of agony whenever you hear<br />

those all-sacred words, and know that your verdict has been taken as a wholesale<br />

sentence of extermination…upon these birds, which “the Father” cares for. (241)<br />

Woolf’s bias against the Victorian protectionist position may be further explained through<br />

reference to the views of F. O. Morris, the clergyman-naturalist from whose works of piety-infused<br />

taxonomic natural history Virginia and her siblings fi rst learned the art of entomological<br />

collection and classifi cation. In Th e Sparrow Shooter, a pamphlet specifi cally<br />

targeting Ormerod, Morris defends the sparrow on biblical grounds and on the grounds<br />

of the bird’s good character: he opens his defence with the contention:<br />

97

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