If Clover claims in “Autumn of
the System” that our current economy is the onset of a capitalist Winter, when
was Spring? He explains that the Autumn of the system is the decline of a “cycle
of accumulation;” hence the beginning of that cycle must be its Spring. When
discussing late capitalism in the United States, I believe it fair to argue
then that one “Spring” took place during the American Industrial Revolution and
the rapid national and colonial expansion that followed. The American Empire,
as it were, saw significant westward and overseas growth during the early to
mid-nineteenth century as well as a continuance of financial development as
industry and agriculture grew together. Andrew Jackson’s dissolution of the
National Bank in 1832 prompted a financial system of credit and loans from
smaller banks that came to define the American economy at that time. In
contrast with what Clover posits as the inability in Autumn for the “hegemon”
to “forward its accumulation via real expansion” (48), this “Spring” for
capitalism saw endless possibilities for expansion. There was no “phantom space”
(48), only real space.
If,
then, the literature of Autumn is poetry that converts the temporal to the
spatial in reflection of late capitalism’s projected view of “labor time as
world space” (48), it would follow that the vast spatial possibilities in the nineteenth
century Spring might manifest literature that reverses Clover's axial
transmutation and converts the spatial to the temporal. Indeed, the American
nineteenth century saw a predominance of narrative fiction over poetry, and the
poetry that did exist was generally narrative (excepting that of Emily
Dickinson). Not only does Hawthorne’s “The Birthmark” (1843) fit the bill with its
straightforwardly narrative structure as a contrast with Clover’s formal
analysis of Autumnal poets, Hawthorne also specifically contemplates the importance
of time over space through his character Aylmer’s scientific pursuits, again in
opposition to Clover’s reading of subject matter in the twenty-first-century
poems. We find out that before the story begins, Aylmer has extensively pursued
scientific problems of space in the physical world: “the pale philosopher had
investigated the secrets of the highest cloud-region, and of the profoundest mines;
he had satisfied himself of the causes that kindled and kept alive the fires of
the volcano; and had explained the mystery of fountains, and how it is that
they gush forth… from the dark bosom of the earth” (1324). The vast array of
geographical understanding that Aylmer purportedly has indicates a dissatisfaction
with scientific pursuits that are grounded in the space of the earth itself.
Whereas space for Autumnal poets is “phantom,” a mystery, and something to
search for, Aylmer sees no further mystery in the spatial questions of the
world. Now, he begins to look forward to an understanding of time through his
preoccupation with mortality.
After
Georgiana faints in his laboratory, Aylmer attempts to soothe her with some “light
and playful secrets” of science, or optical illusions (1325). Georgiana is amused
with the “procession of external existence” that “flitted across a screen;” this procession “perfectly represent[s]” reality, or what we could dub the
spatial realities of physical existence (1325). However, Aylmer soon wearies of
this and reveals an illusion more sacred to him: “Aylmer bade her cast her eyes
upon a vessel, containing a quantity of earth. She did so, with little interest
at first, but was soon startled to perceive the germ of a plant, shooting
upward from the soil… and amid [the leaves] was a perfect and lovely flower”
(1325). Clearly Aylmer plays with time here. He manipulates temporal laws in a
way that is more magical than any previous “spatial” illusion. This magical
flower remains bound to the cycle of time, however, when Aylmer indicates that “the
flower will wither in a few moments, and leave nothing save its brown seed-vessels–
but thence may be perpetuated a race as ephemeral as itself” (1325). The cycle
is proportionate in the speed of the flower’s birth and the speed of its demise.
Aylmer
is therefore dissatisfied with his flower trick; his ultimate goal is to
subvert the laws of time completely and concoct the Elixir Vitae that will
prolong life indefinitely. In this way it could be argued that Aylmer distorts
the temporal in a way similar to the late capitalist system and the Autumnal
poets. Clover explains that through the use of credit, the financial system “pass[es]
off time as space” (44), which could similarly explain Aylmer’s attempt to
understand and manipulate time as he has understood and manipulated space. However,
Aylmer’s ultimate failure in removing Georgiana’s birthmark nullifies a
possible conversion of time to space that Hawthorne sees as an abomination. He
reasserts the translation of the spatial to the temporal in the last sentence
of the story and reinstates the important narrative continuity of time: “The
momentary circumstance was too strong for [Aylmer]; he failed to look beyond
the shadowy scope of Time, and living once for all in Eternity, to find the
perfect Future in the present” (1332). Hawthorne indicates that Aylmer “failed
to looked beyond the shadowy scope of Time” because that shadowy scope is
endless, impossible to be subverted. Further, his failure rests on his
denunciation of the present in favor of the future, while Hawthorne tells us
that “a perfect Future” can be found in the present. Such a claim opposes
Clover’s description of “late capitalism’s drive to plunder and hollow out the
future” (45).
Whether
Hawthorne was directly influenced in “The Birthmark” by the economic “Spring”
of industrialization and expansion is open to interpretation. While the most
readily available context for his conversion of the spatial to the temporal may
be his religious belief in the immortality of the afterlife, one could argue
that the emphasis on vocation in the story grounds it in an economic context.
In either case, “The Birthmark” demonstrates a formal and thematic counterpoint to the loss of time to space in the Autumnal literature of our system. If our
system’s Spring valued time, and its Autumn space, what is to follow in the
literature of the next cycle’s Spring?
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ReplyDeleteHi Emma!
ReplyDeleteI found your dialogue between these two texts, supported by historical context, very interesting and convincing. I found myself wanting to know more about why Hawthorne sees the conversion of time to space as "an abomination"--is that because of his position as a "Spring" writer or is it alluded to textually? I really liked the question that your conclusion posits about the return of Spring--it made me wonder if Clover envisions an endless cycle of literary seasons or a terminal year (the end of literature is upon us!?)? Is winter coming (as Annette and 'Game of Thrones' suggests)? Anyhow, much to ponder, thanks for such an enjoyable essay!
Hi Emma! I'm intrigued by your idea that narrative fiction serves as the signature literary form of the Spring cycle, and it pairs quite nicely with Hawthorne. I think you make a convincing argument that Spring's literature "reverses Clover's axial transmutation and converts the spatial to the temporal," but I'd be curious whether this reversal is always necessary? I think the one difficulty with the season metaphor is that it presumes a perfect counterpoint. Or maybe I'm just still being haunted by Derridean deconstruction techniques?
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I find it interesting that we both cited "endless opportunities for expansion" in our respective time periods, and came to such different conclusions with the seasonal metaphor Clover employs. And yet I don't think our arguments are entirely contradictory--I wonder if it's because we're writing about different cycles (American/British)?