ABSTRACT
From the moment we meet Cassandra Morgeson, the fi rst-person narrator of Elizabeth Stoddard’s 1862 novel, The Morgesons, she is engaged in travel and in pursuit of an education. The novel’s opening scene fi nds tenyear-old Cassandra in her mother’s sitting room, fl anked by her mother, Mary, who reads a religious newspaper, and her maternal aunt, Mercy, who knits. In stark contrast to these older women engaged in stereotypically domestic, feminine activities, young Cassandra tomboyishly clambers up the side of a bureau to reach her favorite adventure book, a tale of polar exploration called The Northern Regions, that sits on the top shelf among other volumes belonging to her parents (this is her father’s). Having “made a dash at and captured” her book, she settles “on the edge of the chest of drawers, and [is] soon lost in an Esquimaux hut” (5). As she reads, Cassandra is observed by her mother and aunt, who make comments about her behavior and appearance: Mercy, for example, remarks that Cassandra is “possessed,” referring to her persistent determination to reach the book she likes; the aunt also notes that there is something wrong with Cassandra’s stockings; Cassandra’s mother, meanwhile, wonders why she will “waste so much time on unprofi table stories” when she might read the Bible instead, or sing hymns along with her aunt. Cassandra’s response to their critique is to fl ee the “oppressive atmosphere of the room” and, indeed, the entire house (6). Once outside, she again dares to climb up high and balances on a gatepost, showing off her new shoes and mimicking the pose of a coquettish fi gure she has seen in a painting. When her Aunt sees her perched thus, she shrieks, retrieves Cassandra, feeds her dinner, and puts her to bed.
