Posted at 11.25.2018
Speaking of modernist literatures groundbreaking task, Maren Linett effectively states that freelance writers was required to break with convention and show how life was experienced alternatively than as it was conventionally saved. Such a notion is highly relevant in elucidating how authors such as George Egerton and Katherine Mansfield strove, through their revolutionary use of the brief storyline, to expose the failing of the Victorian novel's dominant male perspective at accurately rendering the reality and 'terra incognita' of mothers and wives. This article will therefore dispute that, in Egerton's 'A Mix Lines' (1893) and Mansfield's 'Bliss' (1918), the use of a ground-breaking female perspective allows those to aid the reader's gaining of 'new eyes' on the commonplace subject matter of motherhood and matrimony; an objective which will be been shown to be far more concerned with revolutionizing the Victorian notion of these functions as idyllic and harmonious vacation spots for ladies, than with creating 'some new particular thing'. The first fifty percent of the essay will consider the 'new sight' that Egerton and Mansfield give to motherhood and will demonstrate that every copy writer revolutionizes the reader's understanding of maternity by revealing what Nicole Fluhr confirms was the inadequacy of inherited nineteenth-century ideologies and icons, and also by subverting the eugenic conception of motherhood, signifying highly nurturing or affectionate, provided by their Victorian antecedents. First of all considering 'A Cross Line', I am going to analyse how Egerton achieves her reversal of Victorian beliefs in an innate maternal instinct by having a realist cosmetic and focalized narrative which exposes Gypsy's repugnant reaction to the bucolic image of the chicks, before demonstrating how this cutting edge perception is reinforced in an aposiopetic statement. Second of all, an examination of 'Bliss' and Mansfield's critical use of the symbolic pear tree will show that this inherited symbol has an invaluable platform for exposing Bertha's aesthetic, somewhat than eugenic, method of motherhood that is then explicitly reinforced in her connections with 'little B'. The second 1 / 2 of the article will then move to Egerton's and Mansfield's depictions of matrimony, and reveal that every copy writer adapts this at the mercy of their reason for providing 'new eyes' by revolutionizing two components of the Victorian relationship story: the elision of female sexuality within relationship, and the predominating perceptions of adultery provided by omniscient narrators in experience novels. In my own examination of 'A Cross Line', I will demonstrate that the psychological moment of Gypsy's Salomic dream-vision provides an elucidating body of reference through which to reassess Egerton's illustration of the marital union from an unexplored and eroticized female perspective. The final study of 'Bliss' will demonstrate that Mansfield revolutionizes an omniscient narrator's belief of the subject subject of infidelious marriage by mediating it through Bertha's female point of view in two of her internal occasions, which expose its stagnant and adulterous truth as a rejection of the Victorian ideology of relationship as a sacred institution. In the long run, by appropriating commonplace and eternal subject matter, rather than 'new particular thing[s]', within the most likely form for checking out and revealing the interior lives of women, Egerton and Mansfield refashion their reader's normative view of motherhood and relationship and do well, as Jenny McDonnell confirms, in presenting excellent types of 'mak[ing] it new'; relative to Ezra Pound's summation of the modernist job.
In regards to Egerton's and Mansfield's accordance with Pound's demand for revolutionizing and 'making new' the reader's perception of standard subject matter, I will firstly consider each author's ground breaking representations of motherhood. With research first of all to the impressionistic image of the 'hen' and her chicks in 'A Cross Line', I suggest that Egerton self-consciously directs her reader to a fresh interpretation of this stock pastoral image through her use of the focalizing narrator. By using this modernist approach, the audience is forced to align themselves with the revolutionary reaction made available from Gypsy as she gets what Virginia Woolf termed the 'myriad of impressions' contained in Egerton's realist visual. In her catalogue of crude and rustic perceptions, Gypsy therefore will not understand the hen to be a maternal 'beaut[y]' (52), but as 'dishevelled-looking' (52); her call to the chicks is not endearing but 'screeching' (52); and motherhood has not evoked the hen's serene beauty, but has left her 'breasts bare' (52) through 'relaxing on her eggs' (52). Thus, the reader immediately cannot dismiss Gypsy's interpretation of the hen as you which does not evoke the normative Victorian response of what contemporary commentator Maud Churton Braby asserted should be considered a nurturing aspire to 'find a mate, build a nest, and back' her own brood. Instead, Gypsy reveals a conception of motherhood that, as Gail Cunningham properly observes, is 'ruthlessly stripped of its sentimental trappings'. As the focalized narrative then shifts to the 'new eye' of Gypsy's belief of the chicks, an additional trend of motherhood emerges as Gypsy refutes what Fluhr confirms would have been the eugenic Victorian understanding of 'fine' beauty in this impressionistic image of birth. Instead, Gypsy focuses on the crudeness of the chick's 'disproportionately large' (52) bills, 'slimy feathers' (52), and the actual fact that their 'fluff' (52) is 'splashed with olive inexperienced' (52) faecal matter. By omitting any betrayal of Gypsy's nurturing maternal passion, Egerton facilitates an indubitable trend in the Victorian understanding of motherhood provided by freelance writers such as George Eliot, who stated that there surely is an innate 'mother's love which flows in great large quantity [and] tender[ness]'. The actual reader in reality sees through their new belief of motherhood, achieved through Egerton's realist aesthetic and focalized narrative form, is her innovative suggestion that maternity is in fact a learned behaviour, rather than what Sally Ledger terms the Victorian 'essentialist, biologically driven maternal impulse'.
In Egerton's continuation of providing her reader with 'new sight' about them matter of motherhood and maternity as a discovered, somewhat than innate, impulse, an instance of aposiopesis at the conclusion of this section of focalized narrative is significant. Through the statement that the stranger 'is covering basket, hen and everything -' (52), I suggest that Gypsy's earlier reaction of 'disgust' (52) at the uncooked image of the chicks 'curled in the shell' (52) is reinforced. By using hyphenation and by talking about the chicks anonymously and vaguely through the use of the pronoun 'all' (52), Egerton's aposiopetic affirmation reveals an additional exemplory case of Gypsy's rejection of an innate maternal feeling through her elision of any mention of the chicks as a metonym of eugenic motherhood. Also, as part of this episode's exposition on 'new' perceptions of motherhood as a learnt behavior and establishment which Gypsy rejects, her cutting edge privileging and desire for an egoistic feminine autonomy and personality is certainly exposed through her specific reference to the existence of the singular 'hen' (52). By figuring out the hen singularly and by eliminating any reference to the chicks, Gypsy achieves an emphatic illustration of her rejection of any maternal impulse since she segregates the hen from both her offspring and her identification as a mom through this highly nuanced use of aposiopesis. Constructing this revolutionary method of maternal behavior in a typically modernist use of any aposiopetic statement, Egerton is able to further her modernist job of effectively articulating the maternal 'terra incognita' of her female protagonist; by depicting her reaction to motherhood in the same way 'how she recognized herself to be, not as they [Victorian novelists] picture[d] her' as an undeviating paradigm of innate maternal instinct. By exposing Gypsy's insufficient a eugenic Victorian conception of motherhood, and her apparent repugnance at the crude realist cosmetic of the 'young things' (52), Egerton's focalized, impressionistic and aposiopetic event certainly provides reader 'new sight', in the words of Ledger, to understand the commonplace literary subject material of motherhood not as a hereditary 'natural given but a learnt behaviour'.
Linked to Ledger's assertion that, in modernist texts such as Egerton's and Mansfield's, eugenic conceptions of motherhood are revolutionized by not being depicted as hereditary impulses, I move now to a demo a similar lack of nurturing, maternal attachment is depicted in Mansfield's 'Bliss', through the occurrence of Bertha's visual method of motherhood. I suggest firstly that Mansfield's critical use of the pear tree as symbolic of fertility and motherhood inherited from nineteenth-century works, including the nurturing maternal symbolism within the 'branches [of the] jargonelle pear-tree rich in autumnal berries' owned by the titular personality of Elizabeth Gaskell's Ruth (1853), certainly has an illustration of Bertha's ground-breaking aesthetic, somewhat than eugenic, approach to motherhood. In the beginning, in a further exemplory case of the modernist focalized narrative form, Mansfield enables the symbolic pear tree to be imbued with Bertha's impressionistic perceptions of blissful plethora and fertility. The tree is therefore characteristically referred to within a feminine vein, like the example just cited in Gaskell, to be 'in fullest, richest bloom' (148) and this there was 'not an individual bud or a faded petal' (148). Thus, it might certainly be concluded at this moment that this description provides no 'new eye' for the reader's notion of motherhood within the text.
However, for the attentive reader that is alert to Mansfield's critical use of symbolism, I suggest that Mansfield's use of ambivalent phraseology, in conjunction with the fragile physical characteristics of the tree's trunk, soon expose the inadequacy of the pear tree as a precise 'sign of [Bertha's] life' (148) as a nurturing mother; since it is merely 'appear[ing] to' (148) or 'almost' (153) embodying her didactic assertion of its brilliant and nurturing 'bloom[s]' (148) and health. Instead, the tree begins to be subjected as not an accurate symbol of what Bertha perceives to be her strong talk about of motherhood as a career of what Vehicle Gusteren conditions 'unblemished emotional harmony'. Thus, what should be the sturdy, nourishing key of the trunk, as in the 'branches' of Gaskell's mark, is now exposed as emphatically weak and flexible when you are 'large' (148), 'slender' (148), 'quiver[ing]' (153). Hence, when considered in parallel, I suggest that the individual the different parts of the symbolic pear tree's plants and trunk expose Bertha's preoccupation with the appearance of the tree's colourful 'bloom[s]' (148), and her producing insufficient attention towards the nurturing main of the trunk as part of the symbol which she's uniformly said to stand for her own life and maternity. Hence, it is unsurprising that the reader's sight are now doubtlessly opened to a new and revolutionary conception of the 'lovely pear tree' (148) as consultant of Bertha's innovative aesthetic attitude to motherhood, alternatively than that of a robust eugenic approach. In reaching this end through her typically critical use of your supposedly uniform inherited mark, Mansfield not only uncovers what Van Gusteren observes as Bertha's mingling of 'data with interpretive [inaccuracies]', but also establishes Bertha's inchoate knowledge of maternal life; since she sees it symbolically in revolutionary aesthetic terms, as a superficial 'bloom' (148), somewhat than what could be paraphrased as the real wood eugenic central of Victorian motherhood which, in this situation, is 'quiver[ing]' (153). By attaining this innovative perception of any aesthetic method of motherhood via an publicity of the inaccuracy of your inherited nineteenth-century sign of fertile motherhood, I suggest that Mansfield equips her audience with 'new sight' that will enable them to discover her use of the commonplace subject matter of maternity, within Bertha's connection with 'little B' (147), as an additional exemplory case of her revolutionary cosmetic and detached illustration of motherhood.
With further reference to Mansfield's perception of any aesthetic function of motherhood, Bertha's conversation with 'little B' (146) certainly statistics as you of Mansfield's most revolutionary episodes when it comes to the 'new eye' she provides for her readers on the subject matter of maternity. It really is here that the reader finds the most explicit conception of Bertha's approach to motherhood not as the eugenic and morally nurturing vocation of her Victorian antecedents, but, as Diane McGee has recommended, as an profession wherein the kid merely becomes yet another entity in Bertha's spurious life of cosmetic 'bliss - definite bliss!' (145). Mansfield's revolution and subversion of Victorian motherhood, using what Nelson and Holmes confirm was its emphasis on moral and spiritual nurturing, is immediately nuanced as the extra-diegetic narrator uncovers Bertha's belief that the 'baby got on the white flannel outfit and a blue woollen coat, and her dark fine wild hair was brushed up into a funny little peak' (146). To re-invoke the terminology of the symbolic pear tree, I would recommend that such a detailed statement of the infant's clothing therein exposes, once again, Bertha's aesthetic preoccupation with the child's exterior 'bloom[s]' (148) and outfit; rather than focus upon building up their moral sensibility which, to make an enthymematic use of Mansfield's symbolic dialect, would appear to be only 'slim' (148) compared.
This ground-breaking depiction of the maternity which is eugenically deficient and completely misdirected in its focus on visual details, is then validated in Bertha's lack of effusive, nurturing words as she supposedly declares her devotion for 'little B' (147) in a manner that McGee confirms possesses overtones of awkwardness, ineptness and 'an air of novelty'. Proclaiming that 'you're nice' (147), Bertha then attempts, unsuccessfully, to magnify this sense with the addition of an adjective in saying that the newborn is actually 'very nice' (147). Coupled with the emotional laxity of Bertha's successive assertions that she is 'fond of you I love you' (147), her aesthetic conception of motherhood in Mansfield's word is, as Lee Garver observes, been shown to be 'considerably from ennobling' or nurturing for the infant credited to Bertha's profound incapability to penetratively move beyond the aesthetic and superficial. Therefore by aligning her ground-breaking use of an character's inaccurate interpretation of symbolism, that exposes its inadequacy within modernist books to faithfully stand for what it could previously did, with an entirely cosmetic and superficial approach to motherhood, Mansfield adapts this subject material to her own ground-breaking ends. She provides her viewers with 'new eye' through which they can assist in a new conception of maternity as a state that has moved irrevocably from the eugenic, utopian point out depicted by Mansfield's predecessors.
Moving now to the next 1 / 2 of the article, I convert my attention from Egerton's and Mansfield's revolutionary perceptions of motherhood to the techniques with which they revolutionize the traditional subject matter of marriage. First of all considering 'A Combination Range', and the revolutionary world of Gypsy's Salomic 'fantasy of movement' (58), Egerton herself asserted that she was fashioning a 'new particular thing' and an unexplored portion of books: the 'storyline [of women's] terra incognita'. However, I suggest that in this essay's nervous about Egerton's revolutionary belief of relationship, this psychological bout of her protagonist serves as an elucidating construction by which the audience can attain 'new eye' on Egerton's 'fresh' (57) and ground-breaking erotic belief of marriage. The landscape in truth illustrates a direct rejection of what Sarah Maier properly observes as the 'Victorian ideology of [women's] erotic passionlessness' that is regularly observed in nineteenth-century text messages, such as Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles (1891), where women's explicit sexuality is omitted from the narrative. Referring initially to Egerton's use of your performative metaphor in this particular psychological moment in time, the center point of Gypsy after the 'level' (57) of an oriental 'historic theatre' (57), in conjunction with the emancipatory 'wide open air, with a huge selection of [male] faces upturned towards her' (57), certainly allows Egerton's protagonist, as both Miller and Pykett confirm, to uncover the revolutionary existence of '[autonomous] feminine sexuality as a way to obtain [powerful] identity', and open up the reader's 'new eyes' to its unapologetic presence in Egerton's committed protagonist. Furthermore, It is suggested that by self-consciously including literary and Biblical allusions to the identities of 'Cleopatra' (57), her 'jewelled snakes' (57) and Salom's 'voluptuous sway[ing]' (57), Egerton explicitly aligns her protagonist with a historical culture of autonomously erotic women which unequivocally presents the reader with her groundbreaking challenge from what Gail Cunningham terms the later nineteenth-century opinion in women's 'latent sexuality'. Egerton's internal moment of perception to Gypsy's 'terra incognita' therefore constructs feminine sexuality as an personality which is powerfully erotic in its autonomous capability to provide the 'soul of every man [observing her with] what he craves' (57) through its 'intoxicating electric power' (57); an idea that is going to be revisited as I move to consider Gypsy's ability to impart 'delicate magnetism' (56) to her partner and make 'his sight dilate' (56) in Egerton's revolutionary perception of the marital union. Perhaps unsurprisingly, at its publication this tv show was criticized for its 'hysterical frankness of amatory abandonment'. However, in this essay's concern with the modernist project of 'making new' the neglected sides of well-used subject matter, the 'seductive word' (57) of feminine sexuality depicted in this exemplory case of a modernist mental minute, that has 'inseeing' (58) eyes, will now offer an invaluable construction of new belief by which the audience can interpret, with highly attuned 'new eyes', Egerton's ground-breaking erotic female perspective on the marital union.
As Sarah Maier properly observes, in continuing her 'new' reason for using the occurrence of sexuality to revolutionize the prior Victorian 'building of [wedded] women as passionless', Egerton details an discussion between Gypsy and her partner, where Gypsy is the lively seducer and the concentration of the narrative, in order to exactly refute this philistinic approach to the subject subject of marital union; within what Pykett implies is Egerton's 'rethinking of [Victorian] local realism'. Apart from the intimate autonomy Gypsy seems to desire for a euphemistic 'jolly old spree' (55), a suggestion that is definitely similar to the connotations of her identification with 'Cleopatra' (57) in her dream-vision, Gypsy's physical activities in this portion of discourse are especially revealing and is also what It is suggested plays a part in the 'new eye' by which the audience perceives Egerton's innovative depiction of the marital union. I would recommend firstly that the most pivotal part of the discourse is Gypsy's statement that 'it isn't the love you understand, it's the being loved' (55) as, through the key addition of the energetic noun 'being' (55), Egerton nuances her feminine protagonist's revolutionary need to actively render, and literally enact, marital devotion. Thus, in accordance with what Angelique Richardson confirms is Gypsy's 'defiant disregard for typical [Victorian] erotic mores', she commences her physical seduction of her hubby. Tactilely 'stroking all the lines in his face with the end of her finger' (55) and 'rubbing her chin up and down his face' (55), Gypsy regularly reverses and revolutionizes the Victorian ideology of the passive and sexless committed woman. Furthermore, after her most assertive and eroticized action of 'bit[ing] his chin and shak[ing] it just like a terrier in her tooth' (56), that is similar to the 'untamed nature' (57) in her 'fantasy of movement' (58), Gypsy finally exposes the understated magnetism' (56) of the marriage by eliciting her husband's a reaction to her 'tantalizing changes' (56) as 'his eye' (56) euphemistically 'dilate and his color deepens' (56). Thus, though this event culminates in the union that presumably impregnates Gypsy, Egerton's innovative perspective on the existence of active feminine sexuality within matrimony, as conveyed through the mental Salomic dream-vision and Gypsy's seduction of her husband, has unequivocally provided the audience with 'new eye' through which to perceive the stock subject matter of marriage and marital union by representing the protagonist, as Egerton suggested, entirely 'as she knew herself to be' and with a 'total disregard for man's opinions'.
Progressing from the revolutionary eroticization of matrimony in Egerton's wording, I move now to the final section of the essay and a consideration of the similar innovative power of Mansfield's depiction associated with an adulterous marriage within 'Bliss'. Mansfield's 'new eye' on the subject matter of matrimony is achieved by her mediation of its stagnant, adulterous certainty not through the use of a Victorian omniscient narrator, as is generally seen in sensation books such as Wilkie Collins's The Evil Genius (1886), but through the feminine point of view of two of her text's psychological moments; as Mansfield refutes what Miller implies was the Victorian impetus of relationship as a 'means of wholesome narrative resolution' and balance. With regards to this first subconscious point in time, the reader's preliminary attainment of 'new eyes' is achieved through Mansfield's ironic use of free indirect discourse in Bertha's cataloguing try to valorize the satisfaction of her matrimony. Mansfield immediately conveys the stagnation of her protagonist's relationship via an adroit use of the conjunction 'and' (148), within her polysyndeton, to be able to expose to the audience the actual fact that Bertha's assessments of marital satisfaction and wholesomeness are too didactically insistent to be 'absolutely' (148) accurate. Thus, suggesting that their 'friends and literature, and music, and going abroad' (148-9) must mean that she actually is 'too happy - too happy!' (148), the inaccuracy of Bertha's polysyndeton undoubtedly collapses into a bathetic and stagnant finish as the free indirect style of the focalized narrator concludes that 'their new make meals made the most superb omelettes' (149). Furthermore, It is suggested that this portentous, and characteristically modernist, use of ellipsis at the conclusion of this quick psychological moment in time of information exposes the revolutionary ambiguity in Mansfield's content material towards what Miller confirms was the Victorian utopian talk about of bourgeois relationship as the 'paradigm of enjoyable integration and steadiness'. Thus, via what Lee Garver confirms is her pioneering use of feminine perspective in free indirect discourse, Mansfield constructs Bertha's relationship as a listless 'bad beginning' rather than a 'happy stopping', and certainly supplies the audience with 'new eyes' by which they can interpret this new perception of a stagnant marriage that is certainly not 'too happy!' (148). By concluding the instance with the unsettling aftereffect of a portentous ellipsis, Manfield's illustration of matrimony through a feminine, rather than omniscient, perspective certainly upholds the modern-day perception of your Edwardian literary critic that the 'theoretically indissoluble [contentment of Victorian matrimony] has become an open question' that is not uniformly harmonious; as will now be explored with regards to Bertha's mental revelation of Harry's adultery.
As Miller properly observes, a lot of Mansfield's revolutionary words sought to allow her readers to understand the 'sometimes sordid aspects of [relationship]', and she wanted to achieve this not through the omniscient narrator's point of view on adultery within Collins's The Bad Genius, for example, but through the 'new eye' of her female perspective. Nowhere is this cutting edge purpose more obvious than in the second subconscious and fleeting impressionistic point in time where Bertha realizes her husband's adulterous 'moral laxity'. Hence, in the small amount of time that it requires Eddie to open up the 'little publication' (155) and locate 'Why Must It Always Be Tomato Soup?' (155), Bertha considers and comprehends the affair in what Delia da Sousa Correa confirms is Bertha's only epiphanic moment in the written text. Bertha's belief and realization of the unprecedented lustful and sexualised atmosphere of the hallway picture that she witnesses is, I would recommend, conveyed through the focalized narrator's use of seriously nuanced verbs and adverbs. Bertha's belief of the lustful actions in the hallway unequivocally takes its metonym for an adulterous affair as Harry 'toss[es] the cover away' (155) and 'switch[s] [Neglect Fulton] violently to him' (155). Furthermore, in what McDonnell has termed Mansfield's extended prioritization of an feminine exemplory case of revelatory 'impressionistic prose and epiphanic buildings', Bertha then comprehends the immediacy of the adultery not only by perceiving Pass up Fulton's 'smil[ing]' (155) acknowledgment of Harry's declaration that 'I enjoy you' (155), but also through the arrangement that they will meet 'tomorrow' (155). By conveying Bertha's information and realization of her husband's adultery through the brand new use of a lady point of view and a fleeting mental point in time, Mansfield is thus in a position to provide her readers with 'new eyes' through which to perceive the infidelious simple fact of this bourgeois relationship. Mansfield's pioneering techniques through this concluding show certainly validate her revolutionary advice that the previously ideologically sacred union of relationship in the Victorian book is no more an impetus of 'wholesome narrative quality', but has irrevocably 'become an wide open question' as Bertha is tragically remaining questioning, 'what is going to happen now?' (155). By reaching her trend in perception of the literary subject of the infidelious relationship through the 'new eyes' of her protagonist's subconscious moment, Mansfield's text message certainly speaks, unlike the detachment of the Victorian omniscient narrators, with a cutting edge determination for what modern reviewer R. Brimley Johnson termed that female perception of the 'Truth which is behind the [convention]'.
In finish, this article has shown that, in the context of the ground-breaking girl point of view in the short stories of Egerton's 'A Combination Line' and Mansfield's 'Bliss', modernist writing was certainly a lot more concerned with producing a revolution in understanding alternatively than an exploration of 'new particular thing[s]'. As Maren Linett confirms, each copy writer expressed a 'amount of resistance to the traditional modus operandi of [Victorian] freelance writers' who they sought to refute in their own texts by providing their readers with 'new sight' of conception on the eternal subject concerns of motherhood and relationship. By firstly considering the 'new sight' of conception that Egerton and Mansfield provide in their depictions of motherhood, it was demonstrated that each copy writer revolutionizes the Victorian opinion in an innate, eugenic maternal sense which 'moves in great great quantity [and] tender[ness]'. Instead, what was subjected in the focalized and aposiopetic bout of 'A Cross Line' was Gypsy's repugnant a reaction to the realist aesthetic of the hen and the chicks, and her choice for the egoistic autonomy of an individual girl; therein illustrating her refusal to adopt a eugenic understanding of motherhood. A similar rejection of eugenic Victorian maternity was seen in Mansfield's 'Bliss' through her critical use of the inherited symbolic pear tree which revealed Bertha's revolutionary visual method of motherhood. This was then been shown to be an invaluable framework for exposing Bertha's artificial relationship with 'little B' (146). My study of marriage in the second 50 % of the essay unveiled how Egerton and Mansfield provide their visitors with 'new eyes' to view two the different parts of the Victorian marriage plot by using a revolutionary feminine perspective. An examination of the psychological instant of Gypsy's egoistic and erotic 'fantasy of action' (58) was been shown to be an invaluable construction through which to re-examine Egerton's exploration of wedded women's erotic 'terra incognita' within Gypsy's marital union with her man. Finally, in Mansfield's ground-breaking use of Bertha's female perspective and two of her internal occasions to articulate both stagnation of her marriage and her epiphanic realization of its adulterous fact, the audience was again provided with 'new eyes' by which to perceive the truth of this bourgeois marriage as an example of the institution's new position as a non-sacred 'open up question'. In the long run, in their accordance with Ezra Pound's immortal summation of the modernist project, as the 'making new' of well-used subject matter and delving into its unexplored edges, the testimonies of Egerton and Mansfield have enabled this essay to show that, in the case of 'A Cross Range' and 'Bliss', modernist writing was far more concerned with presenting familiar subject matter, such as motherhood and relationship, in new and stylistically inventive ways that would provide their readership with 'new eyes' for perceiving the female results who they assumed have been so inadequately portrayed by their Victorian predecessors.