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Hyena trouble.

AN IMPORTANT CRITICAL FOCUS FOR FEMINIST ROMANTIC STUDIES IS THE identification of "woman" with "nature": woman as nature and nature as woman. In this account, woman figures body rather than mind, an agent of physical rather than cultural production. Man is defined against nature. In both cases, "nature" means "animal." If, as Cary Wolfe reminds us, the animal is "always lying in wait at the very heart of the constitutive disavowals and self-constructing narratives" that define "the human" (6), gender sharpens the definitional project: animal distinguishes men from women; and for women, "proper ladies" from "women writers." (1)

"Animal" had more work to do than this in the nineteenth century. As Harriet Ritvo argues in The Animal Estate, Britons asserted their superiority by characterizing the other (the colonial) as animal. In collecting, shooting, caging, or taming a "wild" or "dangerous" animal, the British were performing imperialist power, masculinity, and technological superiority all at once. No surprise that big-game hunting became a collective social ritual and point of national pride. (2) Meanwhile back at home, a domestic culture of animals was developing: the establishment of the RSPCA and other humane societies, the breeding of high-class domestic pets, and the creation of a literature of domesticated speaking animals (Beatrix Potter and Kenneth Grahame). Anne Mellor's work has helped us read a counter-imperial domestic ideology, formed by values of maternal care and sympathy. (3) Yet contrasts can be troubled by continuities. At home, Victorian women were dressing, like never before, in the fur and feathers of animals from across the globe. And just below the surfaces--of domestic fashion, of humane homes, of imperialist pride--are worries about the monstrous animal within everyone, within every culture. (4)

No scarier monster than the real animal named in the title of my essay: Hyena. What is Hyena trouble? Unlike the quasi-mythic Tyger, in whose "fearful symmetry" William Blake surmised a sublime Creator, the zoologically real hyena is an unsublime, queer animal that disturbs and unsettles fundamental categories of nature, politics, gender, and sexuality. With its huge head, massive bone-crushing jaws and teeth, and cold glaring eyes, with its bristling mane and front legs that seem too long for its hind legs, the hyena is frightening and ungainly, as if it were composed of mismatched parts, a kind of animal from Frankenstein's laboratory. More troubling than this ugliness is a definitional queasiness. Though a hyena looks canine, it figures a mockery, from its behavior and appearance, to the number of its toes to its strange mane and civet-like scent glands. The ancient Greeks called it a "huaina," from hus, or swine. In 1614, Sir Walter Raleigh described hyenas as "beasts of mix'd natures" and denied them a place on the Ark. It was "not needful to preserve them," he writes, guessing that "they might be generated again" after the Flood, when foxes once again mated with wolves. (5) This mixed breed persisted in Enlightenment naturalism. M. J. Brisson thought a hyena a wolf, while Linnaeus classified it as a dog with erect hair on the neck. To William Buckland it fell into "an intermediate class between the cat and dog tribes." (6)

Foreign to the British, linked to the orient and the tropics, the hyena courted orientalist stereotypes: cringing and cowardly and yet fierce, intractable, sensual, and cruel. "Scorning all the taming arts of man, / The keen hyena, fellest of the fell," is how Thomson's Summer gives the lesson. (7) A creature of the night, haunting desolate solitudes, this nocturnal scavenger, a notorious grave-robber, was criminal, degenerate, and corrupt, the most fallen of the fallen. In one of the "History of Romulus" tapestries at the Vienna Kunsthistorisches Museum, the hyena has this motto: "IMPIA VIVIS AC DIRA SEPULTIS" ["Without pity for the living and dreadful to the dead"]. (8) Its gluttony was as limitless as its propensity for lewd, perverse sexual activity. As the author of the Beauties of Natural History sums it: "His appetites of all kinds are insatiable: he would eat, drink, slaughter, and generate forever.... This most obscene and nasty of all creatures, is even abhorrent in idea." (9)

As if this litany of superlatives were not enough, the hyena figures doubleness and mimicry with a vengeance. It was inherently duplicitous, one kind of animal pretending to be (or hiding within) another. It was kin to all those predatory mimics in classical and biblical literature: hybrids, mostly female, from siren to lamia, that dissemble in order to destroy men. In medieval bestiaries, it is the creature that "walks round the houses of a night and studies the tone of voice of those inside with careful ear," in order to "to do imitations of the human voice," and in this art of "ruse" gaining both human and bestial prey. (10) Its proper epithet, Edward Topsell declares, is "Aemula vocis, Voyce counter-fayter." (11) In 1775, Linnaeustrained botanist Anders Sparrman would echo this view, describing the hyena as the art of an "arch-deceiver" that uses its "peculiar gift of being enabled, in some measure, to imitate the cries of other animals ... to beguile and attract calves, foals, lambs and other animals," while Oliver Goldsmith's History of the Animated Earth (1779) focused on the human peril: the hyena moans "to attract unwary travelers." (12) Its weird, unearthly laughter added to the impression that it was mocking human beings.

The impression of mockery is a close cousin to identification, as hyenic narratives tend to show. Qualities these narratives project onto hyenas-- imitation, doubling, duplicity, mockery, threat--reflect what Homi Bhabha calls colonial mimicry, a "difference that is almost the same, but not quite." (13) The hyena propels this into abject mimicry: "frightfully different, but not quite." Contempt for hyenas breeds strange forms of familiarity--notably, unfamiliar women.

Hyenic Women

"What kind of animal?" was a question. Another was "What sex?" The hyena seemed able to change sex: "mounts and is mounted in alternate years," writes Aristotle. (14) Although hermaphrodites have always troubled sexual and gender distinctions, hyenas, the great transsexuals of the animal world, made a mockery of such distinctions. Queering both gender and sexuality, hyenas epitomize Judith Butler's argument that not just gender but sex, too, is a mutable performance, no natural determination: hyenas are the Orlandos of the animal kingdom. (15) "Should you this year set eyes on a male Hyena," writes the Roman naturalist Aelian, "next year you will see the same creature as a female; conversely, if you see a female now, next time you will see a male. They share the attributes of both sexes and are both husband and wife." (16) Aristotle tried to sort this out, patiently explaining that both the male and female Striped Hyena have anal scent pouches, which look like male scrotums; male hyenas, moreover, seemed to sport female genitalia: "under the tail a line like the pudendum of the female." (17) Yet he was at a loss to say where the actual reproductive organs were, and as late as the seventeenth century it was commonplace to regard the hyena as a sex-changer. "It is written that hee changeth sex often, being sometime male, and sometime femall," John Bullokar's An English Expositor (1616) reported. (18) In Physiologus, a popular anonymous work in early Christian natural history, sex-changing was beyond queer: it was "unclean because it has two natures." (19) Medieval bestiaries, citing such sources, routinely cast the hyena as a creature of insatiable lust and gluttony for unclean things, satisfying its appetites with a gross cross-sexing. (20) You may imagine how hyenas figure in attacks by the early Church fathers on male homosexuality: sex for pleasure only and not reproduction is a mockery of a piece with hyenic queerness and filth. (21)

All this literature is the potent background to my story: the summoning of the hyena from the early modern era into twentieth-century modernity in order to name the cultural monstrosity known as the "masculine" woman, a fundamental threat to social order. Samson Agonistes is as good a primer as any. (22) The queasiness is about cross-cultural marriage, and this usually gets stabilized as a trope for colonial conquest. Milton's Samson married the Philistine Dalila in order to fulfill his destiny of destroying the Philistines. But she found out the secret of his strength (his hair) and betrayed him to her people. Shorn, captured, blinded, and imprisoned, Samson is reduced to "a living death ... Myself my Sepulchre, a moving Grave." (23) When Dalila pleads for forgiveness, he reviles her as a Hyaena feeding on the wreckage, feigning remorse for her "rash ... unfortunate misdeed" (745-47):

   Out, out Hyaena; these are thy wonted arts.
   And arts of every woman false like thee.


A she-Hyaena is a false woman, no natural being. And what does the mimicry of female "arts" conceal? Dalila mimics (and mocks) female stereotypes: blaming curiosity ("a weakness / In me, but incident to all our sex" [773-74]); confessing jealousy that "one day thou wouldst leave me" (794) for another woman; fearing that Samson on one of his "perilous enterprises" (804) would leave her to a "widow'd bed" (806). She even invokes "Love's law" (811), wanting him "Whole to myself" (809). To Samson this all spells hyenic "rage / To satisfy thy lust" (836-37). But there is more to it than her hyenic monstrosity, and its keynote is Dalila's rejoinder, "Ere I to thee, thou to thyself wast cruel" (784). (24)

If Hyenic narratives are characterized by differentiation and abjection of the deviant, Dalila names their share in a mixed nature. Samson reestablishes the gender and cultural certainties by naming the sham she-artist and usurper of masculine power a hyena, and casting her out--the necessary condition for recovering a masculine self. "I yielded," he reflects, "Who with a grain of manhood well resolv'd / Might easily have shook off all her snares: / But foul effeminacy held me yok't / Her Bondslave" (408-11). Divorce remakes the man, and the man can now fulfill his prophecy of bringing down the Philistines. This may be monstrosity of a different order but by unmasking the hyena in her, Samson authorizes his iconoclastic mission.

Milton, however, writes a supplementary chapter. If Samson's story, authorized by God, is that Dalila will be "memorable / Among illustrious women, faithful wives" as a monster of "Matrimonal treason" (956-58), Dalila gives what is in effect a hyenic history, double-charactered:

   Fame if not double-fac't is double-mouth'd,
   And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds;
   On both his wings, one black, the other white,
   Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight.


In Jewish fame, Dalila will stand as a "blot / Of falsehood most unconjugal" (978-79), but among the Philistines, history may change its shape:25

   where I most desire,
   In Ekron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath
   I shall be nam'd among the famousest
   Of Women, sung at solemn festivals,
   Living and dead recorded, who to save
   Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose
   Above the faith of wedlock bands, my tomb
   With odors visited and annual flowers.

Milton even gives her a hyena-pun:

   Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy
   The public marks of honor and reward
   Conferr'd upon me, for the piety
   Which to my country I was judg'd to have shown.


If Judeo-Christian history degrades Dalila and the Philistines, Milton shows her motives similar to Samson's, both of them valuing fame, nation, and religion over fidelity to their marriage. Samson sees her as a painted Jezebel, using her arts to betray her husband, but Dalila identifies a common character, and double-mouthed history.

One of the great successes of Samson Agonistes is its political symbolics of the hyena. In the acrimonious debates between royalists and anti-royalists that led up to and followed upon the execution of Charles 1, Milton was called a hyena, and he could turn the charge on his enemies. Replying to Milton's Eikonoklastes (1649), Joseph Jane's Eikon Aklastos (1651) leveled the attack on Milton. Though he doesn't say hyena, he describes the behavior:

Never man found honour by raking in the ashes of dead Princes, but unnatural crueltie seekes to Surfeit upon the grave. This Author doth not only digg up the bones of the dead King, but seekes to bring

   Destruction on al Kings, and bury them in the mines of their
   Authoritie. (6) (26)

While not yet in Milton's sights, this looks like a preview of Samson's mission. In the regicide debate, Milton called his political opponents the "basest animals" and located one of these, Alexander More, lurking in "the dens and shames of the basest adversary," full of the artful dissembling which only one beast can gloss:

   you, who were recently virulent and cursing, now are suddenly made
   spotless, and, gentle and patient ... Hyena! or if there is any
   other beast so noxious and infamous with loathsome fraud! (27)

Character-shifting, political apostasy: hyenas abounding. Where kings are threatened or icons destroyed, a hyena is near at hand.

"A Hyena in Petticoats"

When iconoclast Milton wrote Samson Agonistes, he made Samson the divinely authorized actor: Samson's responsibility was to God, and Dalila's was to him, not to her people or to Dagon. By the 1790s, the decade that witnessed the French Revolution and ensuing polemics for the rights of women, divine certainties came under severe pressure as a male-interested discourse. Two of the most famous women of the period, Mary Wollstonecraft and Marie Antoinette, were portrayed, for different reasons, as hyenas. For conservative moralists, the notion of gender equality at once destroyed woman's nature and replaced it with a cruel and savage doubleness: "unsex'd"; "amazons"; "savages"; and in Edmund Burke's census, "furies of hell, in the abused shape of the vilest of women"; "obscene harpies ... foul and ravenous birds of prey [who] flutter over our heads, and souse down upon our tables, and leave nothing unrent, unrifled, unravaged, or unpolluted with the slime of their filthy offal." (28)

Burke's harpies appear in his Letter to a Noble Lord (1795-96), written in defense of his annuity for long service to the state. In this last gasp (he died in 1797), he characterizes himself, in effect, as a Samson, alone, age weakened, beset by his enemies, more dead than alive. "In my wretched condition, though hardly to be classed with the living, I am not safe from them," he writes, and then summons the hyena:

   They have hyenas to prey upon carcasses.... They pursue, even such
   as me, into the obscurest retreats, and haul them before their
   revolutionary tribunals. Neither sex nor age--nor the sanctuary of
   the tomb is sacred to them. They have so determined a hatred to all
   privileged orders, that they deny even to the departed the sad
   immunities of the grave. (29)

In the tyger and the hyena, Burke summons "the two great Evils of our time, Indianism and Jacobinism." (30) India, a newly subjugated imperial acquisition, and France, the engine of European revolution, epitomize the terrors of the modern political age. When he wrote A Letter to a Noble Lord, Indianism, corrupted by the East India administration of Warren Hastings, seemed to Burke the more dangerous evil, undermining and corrupting British civil and political life. In India, company officials fell to the predatory evil of their mentor Hastings:

   He is never corrupt without he is cruel. He never dines without
   creating a famine. He feeds on the indigent, the decaying, and the
   ruined. . . . He is like the ravenous vulture, who feeds on the
   dead, and the enfeebled, who destroys and incapacitates nature in
   the destruction of its object, while devouring the carcasses of the
   dead, and then prides himself in his ignominious security, and his
   cruelty is beyond his corruption; at the same time, there is in his
   hypocrisy something more terrible than his cruelty.... Mr.
   Hastings feasts in the dark alone; like a wild beast he groans in a
   corner over the dead and dying. (31)

The behavior is legible hyena-code. Michael Hennin's print Greuelscenen der Jacobiner (1794-95) associates France's two most ferocious Jacobins--Robespierre and Jean-Bapdste Carrier--as a tiger and a hyena. Like Milton's, the Burke-brand is a duplicity that invades and destroys family and state, but Burke extends the threat to the empire. Hastings was an Englishman who had become a hyena in India; he (and his ilk) were now returning to Britain, intent to make it into another India. It was a horrifying modernity that boded the end of England as he knew it.

So, too, the modern woman who would undermine a male priority. It was Mary Wollstonecraft whom Horace Walpole, in 1795, called "a hyena in petticoats," merely on the rumor of her principles. He had already "excommunicated [her] from the pale of my library" three years earlier when Vindication of the Rights of Woman appeared, its title echoing Tom Paine's "demon's book." (32) It was the publication of her Historical and Moral View of the ... French Revolution (1794) that freshened his ire, and refreshed the specter of the hyena, a regular visitant in his nightmare of revolution. In 1792, recalling Burke's Reflections while he was reading James Bruce's Travels to Discover the Source of the Nile (1790), Walpole commented

   if all Mr Bruce's hyenas had met in three National Assemblies, they
   could not have produced similar horrors, for hyenas tear both men
   and women to pieces at once, but do not torture and keep them in
   constant alarms for three years together--they do not butcher
   hundreds and thousands more than they can devour. They do not
   terrify men to flight, and then persecute the wives and daughters
   of those they have terrified. Hyenas do not promise bribes to
   tigers to massacre men of certain descriptions, viz. Kings, when
   tigers are neither hungry nor provoked--no. Sir, hyenas are not
   French philosophers, nor claim a mission from hell to overturn all
   justice, laws, governments, morality, humanity, and religion, and
   then call themselves the most august senate in the world! (33)

Bruce, like other Enlightenment naturalists, saw the profusion of hyenas in North Africa as a sign of despotism and social collapse: "anarchy and bad government" were providing a ready supply of dead and dying human beings, the desert "strewed with bones of the dead; horrid monuments of the victories of this savage animal, and of man more savage and cruel than he." (34) For Walpole, France was worse than Africa, for it was now governed by human beings more abject and frightening than anything nature could produce.

Throughout the Romantic era, hyenas were favorite symbols for Eastern and African anarchies. "From the field of gore / Howls the hyena o'er the slain!" writes Southey in "To the Genius of Africa." For Walpole, it was Revolutionary France, where "men have worked themselves up into tigers and hyenas, and labour to communicate their appetite for blood ... The execrable nation! " (35) On the execution of Louis xvi, he wrote to Lady Ossory that if "Savages, barbarians, etc., were terms for poor ignorant Indians and blacks and hyenas, or, with some superlative epithets, for Spaniards in Peru and Mexico, for Inquisitors, or for enthusiasts of every creed in religious wars," it was left to the "enlightened eighteenth century to baffle language and invent horrors that can be found in no vocabulary." (36) How striking to see hyenas grouped with the colonial oppressed rather than the inquisitors, conquistadors, and religious zealots. The execution of Marie Antoinette ("matchless heroine and first of human beings, the Queen of France") compounded the atrocity: "the French have shown themselves a race of intentional hyenas." (37)

To the French popular press, however, Marie Antoinette was the monster, and apt descriptions paved the way to her denunciation in 1793. For almost twenty years, the Queen that was Burke's demi-goddess, had been the subject of scandal and libels: she was a foreigner, V Autrichienne (a she-Austrian, punned into Austrian dog), dominating her husband and plotting the overthrow of French society, the lewd Messalina with a voracious sexual appetite, the adulteress, the bordello queen, the lesbian. She did not know her gender-place, but did not stint on the extravagant luxuries of the ancien regime. (38) She was a monstrous alien. A 1789 aquatint portrays her as a harpy. Another, La Poulle d'Autru/yche (1791), plays on the French for ostrich and Austrian to picture a bird that gorges on silver and gold but chokes on the Constitution. (39) Sporting the fashionable accessorizing of luxurious ostrich plumes, she is depicted as duplicitous, looking in two directions at once through owl's eyes hidden in her tail, her sharp claws visible. (40)

Shortly after her attempted escape from France on the night of June 20, 1791, an aquatint by Villeneuve, Son Excellence M. la baronne de Kotf parti furtivement de Paris dans la nuit du 20 au 21 juin 1791, depicted her as male/female ["His excellence M [arie] the Baronness de Korf"], working from popular representations of the queen as a masculinized she-wolf--or a cowardly Spotted hyena tricked out with the head of a woman and a Medusa coiffure decked with serpents (fig. i). (41) Is it a coincidence that just as naturalists were putting to rest the legend of hyenic sex-changing, they were learning more about the Spotted Hyena, a south-African species of dominant females, stronger and larger than the males? Unique to this species is a female pseudo-penis, almost indistinguishable from the male one, capable of erection, and used for mating, urinating, and giving birth. (42) These scandals underwrite the cartoons of the Queen as masculinized woman and a predatory mimic, seeking to escape once her double nature has been discovered.

Irate at the French Press attacks on the Queen and at Wollstonecraft's antipathy to the monarchy, Walpole wielded some poetic justice in calling Wollstonecraft a hyena in petticoats, unmasking the monster within the outward manner of an eighteenth-century lady. At the same time, Wollstonecraft saw "woman" (by Walpole-standards) as a monstrosity: a grotesque mimic, educated and trained to affect unnatural behavior conforming to male stereotype. The primary difference between the predatory mimicry of the hyena and the coquetry of women is that eighteenth-century conservative moralists wanted to make believe that coquetry was woman's nature. (43) Like a modern-day Dalila, Wollstonecraft said otherwise: coquetry was an act of adaptive cunning in a culture of political deprivation.

Vindication of the Rights of Woman struck many of its first readers as a hyenic text, not only for questioning whether the mind and soul are gendered at all, but also for its oscillation between cultural markers of "masculine" and "feminine" style (analytic reasoning and expressive feeling). Walpole (whose own sexual orientation has been a question in recent discussion) believed that an intractable ferocity stirred under her genteel language. Wollstonecraft's anger against prevailing sexual mores is quite legible. Wishing for a time when writing would have no gender, Wollstonecraft might have sympathized with Sydney Owenson when she came to London following the acclaim of the Wild Irish Girl, to find herself put on display, sans bardic harp, as a foreign curiosity at a fete given in her honor by the wealthy Countess of Cork and Orrery. "So, there I sat," she writes, "exhibited and shown off like 'the beautiful hyena that was never tamed' of Exeter Change,--looking about as wild, and feeling quite as savage!" (44) Wollstonecraft was no such exotic wild girl, but in her own polemic, a "masculine woman" to be valued for intellection, reason, and moral philosophy. Detractors such as Walpole could see only an "unsexed female," a monstrosity. By the beginning of the twentieth century, feminists would hear the anger of the hyena more as a protest about being caged. The hyena was no voice of predatory deception; it was political resistance, anger that would not be tamed.

Hyenic Landscapes

From the late eighteenth century onward, as the British settled in parts of the world actually inhabited by hyenas and as natural history emerged as a dominant form of colonial writing, hyenas increasingly appear not only as behavioral monstrosities but also as unnerving synecdoches for these new cultures and strange environments. If lions and tigers were creatures of sublime awe, at one with their sublime environs, the hyena focused dark horror: avoiding fights, hiding out in caves during the day, the hyena ruthlessly ruled the night. They enter "in herds of six, eight, and often more, into all the villages at night, and carry off with them whatever they are able to master," writes William George Browne, who traveled through Northern Africa and Syria during the 1790s. (45) The hyena was rarely seen but its presence was known by a ghoulish howl or laugh. There are "no words" for "this animal's figure, deformity, and fierceness," comments Oliver Goldsmith in his widely read History of the Earth, and Animated Nature. Forever "in a state of rage or rapacity," its growling and "peculiar howl" were particularly unnerving: "its beginning resembles the voice of a man moaning, and its latter part as if he were making a violent effort to vomit. As it is loud and frequent, it might, perhaps, have been sometimes mistaken for that of a human voice in distress." The "hyaena, with a note peculiarly solitary and dreadful," was the darkest heart in the heart of darkness. (46)

For visitors to India, hyenas evoked not just savagery, but anarchy, a society in deathly decline. With the ruins of forts, tombs, and gardens everywhere, with epidemics of cholera and malaria, with rotting corpses floating down, or strewn along, the banks of its rivers, with pilgrims lying unburied for miles around Puri (home of the temple of jagannath, hence juggernaut), these "deathscapes" (as David Arnold sums it) were "a projection of what many Europeans felt was wrong with India and Indians." (47) The omnipresence of hyenas and jackals feeding upon the human dead underlined a moral and political failure. India seemed no land of the living but a subcontinent already dead. The "denial of coevalness"--as if India were a world past and on its way to extinction--powerfully shaped the anthropological discourse of colonial India. (48) Going to India seems to be going back in time. In her poem "A Scene in the Doaab" (1832), Emma Roberts depicts a region "where fortresses in the last stage of decay" are "as plentiful as the ruined villages" and mosques are all "crumbling." (49) The inheritors are owls, vampire bats, vultures, and not least, "the fierce hyena," who "prowls, / Flaunting the darkJheel's broad lagoon" (24). These "Alone remain to tell the tale / Of Moslem power, and Moslem pride" (25). Is this the ruin that awaits all empires?

   Now all is silent; the wild cry
   Of savage beasts alone is heard,
   Or wrathful tempest hurrying by,
   Or moanings of some desert bird.


Looking upon the ruins of another ruling warrior race (the Moguls sought to rid India of Hindu idolatries and rituals), Roberts evokes a dark future when the desert might speak of the ruin of British power, and British pride.

For Europeans, India was a danger-sign. It wasn't just its ruined past, but also, as Arnold notes, the European experience of its present state, overwhelmingly one of sickness and mortality. (50) If the sun never sets on the British Empire, India proved to be a European graveyard, showing no sanctity for the dead. In Scenes and Characteristics of Hindostan, Roberts voices horror and disgust at the indignities of Indian cemeteries:

   many exhibit the most frightful features of a charnel-house,
   dilapidated tombs, rank vegetations, and unburied bones whitening
   in the wind. The trees are infested with vultures and other hideous
   carrionbirds; huge vampire-bats nestle in the walls, which too
   often present apertures for the admission of wolves and jackalls
   crowding to their nightly resort, and tearing up the bodies
   interred without the expensive precautions necessary to secure them
   from some frightful desecration. (51)

Indian graveyards were a nightmare of the end of empire. In "Indian Graves," Roberts surveys "an exiled band / From their paternal homes apart" who "[l]ie buried in a heathen land, / Unwept, unhonoured, and unknown." (52) But not uneaten: this is "filthy work" for the jackals and hyenas that inherit Britain's bodies.

Perhaps this is why Kipling wrote "The Hyenas," one of his more anguished views of imperialism. (53) The poem naturalizes a last judgment, a final disposition of the dead, supervised not by God but by "wise hyaenas":

   After the burial-parties leave
   And the baffled kites have fled;
   The wise hyaenas come out at eve
   To take account of our dead.

   How he died and why he died
   Troubles them not a whit.
   They snout the bushes and stones aside
   And dig till they come to it.


The hyenas are "wise" only in waiting their turn (an unburying party), not in deciding eternal fate. Kipling makes particularly gruesome their pleasure in disinterring a soldier's body:

   They whoop and halloo and scatter the dirt
   Until their tushes white
   Take good hold in the army shirt,
   And tug the corpse to light,
   And the pitiful face is shewn again
   For an instant ere they close ...


Even as Kipling tells us that this horror takes place beyond the sight of "living men," he gives his readers a horrific image of this pitiful face. Only God and the hyaenas, "free from shame," witness the feast on what is now "meat" (26). Kipling's close is beyond bitter:

   Nor do they defile the dead man's name-
   That is reserved for his kind.


The human defilers are the worst and human "kind" is anything but. Kipling's word tushes has already hyenized journalists: "tusche" (from the German tuschen, meaning "to ink up") was a substance used in lithography. The Hyenas, Kipling told Frank Doubleday, was "a parable of newspaper attacks on dead men who cannot defend themselves" and haplessly feed a voracious press and its voracious readers. (54) The animals are merely natural in searching for food. The moral hyenas are the British back home.

The Last British Hyena

In December 1821, Oxford geologist William Buckland, crawling on hands and knees in a narrow cave in the Vale of Pickering, Yorkshire, looked deep into the antediluvian past of England and saw hyenas. What made Kirkdale Cave so important was that it was strewn with bones of an extraordinary number of animals never known to have existed in England: notably, tigers, elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses--and hyenas. Had the Deluge washed these bones from Africa to England? No: Buckland announced that he had discovered an ancient den of hyenas and the remnants of their prey carried to the cave, the bone fragments preserved for centuries in mud. The catholic tastes and scavenging habits of hyenas made them terrific natural history collectors: any animal would do for dinner. If proving his theory was a challenge, Buckland had a paleontological ace-in-the-hole in his discovery of album graecum or coprolite--fossilized Hyena dung:

   many small balls of the solid calcareous excrement of an animal
   that had fed on bones.... It was at first sight recognised by the
   keeper of the Managerie at Exeter Change, as resembling, both in
   form and appearance, the faeces of the spotted or Cape Hyaena,
   which he stated to be greedy of bones beyond all other beasts in
   his care.

As Philip Bury Duncan, Keeper of the Ashmolean Museum from 1826 to 1855, jested:

   The noble science of Geology
   Is bottomed firmly on Coprology
   For ever be Hyenas blessed. (55)

With this blessing, Buckland could make the impressive claim that all of the bones were from animals inhabiting "antediluvian Yorkshire" "at the same time." The entire fauna of the region had wound up in this "wreck of the hyenas' larder." (56) The hyenic banquet hall was a time capsule from a time when Yorkshire had been as tropical as Africa.

Buckland's Royal Society paper and the book that followed fast upon it rewrote paleontology on the remains of this newly "native" British scavenger. In a lithograph titled The Hyaena's Den at Kirkdale, near Kirby Moorside in Yorkshire, discovered A.D. 1821, Buckland's friend William Daniel Conybeare portrays his entry of the cave as a journey back in time, as if the geologist had encountered the living animals (fig. 2). Buckland's candle casts its light and enlightenment on the hyenic past. (57) Edouard Riou's engraving, The Appearance of Man, which appeared in Louis Figuier's World before the Deluge (1863), with an even fuller imagination of this prehistoric world, has hyenas prominent. Functioning like Renaissance putti, two Striped hyenas sit in the lower left-hand corner, guiding our eye into a scene of men, partly clothed in animal skins and armed with rudimentary weapons, who keep nature at a distance, while women prepare a banquet, marked by the bones at the cave entrance (fig. 3).

The most unusual hyenic text from this time may be P. B. Duncan's poem, The Last British Hyena. Having attended Buckland's Oxford lectures, Duncan probably wrote the poem as a parody of the contemporary excitement. As a last-of-the-race narrative, it draws upon the tradition of doomed Celtic bardic nationalism and tweaks an increasing awareness of historical progress as bound up with the extinction of other races, cultures, and species. Buckland's discovery of now extinct native species seemed ripe for this allegory:

   High on a rock, which o'er the raging flood
   Reared its bleak crag, the last hyaena stood.
   Last of his race, for victims of his maw,
   With fratricidal, parricidal jaw,
   His rage had each contemporary slain;
   Crack'd every bone, sucked marrow, spine, and brain.
   Ere the great flood had poured the fatal wave
   Through the deep windings of his Yorkshire cave. (58)

The legible model, or parodic template, is Thomas Gray's The Bard: "On a rock, whose haughty brow / Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, / Robed in the sable garb of woe, / With haggard eyes the poet stood; / ... / And with a master's hand and prophet's fire, / Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre." (59) Gray figures the extinction of the Welsh nation in this lone bard, decrying the progress of the English state. Duncan figures the hyena's extinction in a natural cataclysm. And so the last hyena is at once a link to the heroic Celtic past and to modern British imperial, scientific culture. Its sources of food disappearing in the great deluge, the hyena resorts to cannibalism--a desperation that summons up a comparison to John Franklin's disastrous Canadian expedition of 1819-22, which reduced its starving explorers to postmortem cannibalism:

   O'er this last bone of many a murdered brother
   He growled, for he in vain had sought another.
   Full oft, like Captain Franklin, did he prey
   On bones rejected in a former day;


Gray's Celtic Bard, repudiating the British invasion, plunges into "endless night." (60) Duncan allows the last British hyena to escape "endless darkness" by fulfilling a prophetic role for British geology: " 'My skull to William Buckland I bequeath,'--/ He moaned, and ocean's wave he sank beneath" (15-16).

A Hyena in the Attic

Six-year-old Charlotte Bronte must have been surprised when Buckland announced his discovery of hyena history in Yorkshire and she learned of the existence of her ancient county neighbors. The chief source of images of the hyena at the time was Goldsmith's Animated Nature, and she may have known Bewick's engraving of the hyena in the Natural History of Quadrupeds, having pored over and imitated his bird drawings. Bewick's History of British Birds (1797-1804) would become youngjane Eyre's favorite book. Jane's aviary is not the British domestic nature of swallows, martins, and sparrows celebrated by Gilbert White, but loners and outcasts. She's an angry girl. "I could not forget my own sensations when you thus started up and poured out the venom of your mind, " chastises her nasty aunt Mrs. Reed; "I felt fear, as if an animal that I had struck or pushed had looked up at me with human eyes and cursed me in a man's voice." (61) It's a hyenic scene: Jane rears up with venom against one who regards herself as her protector; and her anger exposes her aunt's hollow charity as a mimicry.

In her first encounter with Rochester, Jane finds herself in another hyenic scene. She interprets the sound of his approaching horse with the popular Yorkshire myth of the Gytrash, a predatory mimic that was said to haunt "solitary ways" in the guise of a horse, mule, or large dog in order to prey upon belated travelers. The gytrash is (to use Bronte's coinage) a pretercanine, malevolence shining in its eyes. Rochester's dog Pilot looks like kin: "It was exactly one mask of Bessie's gytrash,--a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head: it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to look up, with strange pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expected it would" (128). Rochester "the man, the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone" (128). She does not yet know that another pretercanine creature is paired to Rochester: Bertha Mason, a hyenic woman caged like an animal in the attic of Thornfield Hall. Jane's discovery of Bertha will traumatize everything.

Bertha is a nocturnal creature. Hidden in her den during the day, she often gains access to Thornfield Hall at night. Jane senses her during a first tour of the house, when, in the attic, she is surprised to hear a laugh like none that she has ever heard before:

   While I paced softly on, the last sound I expected to hear in so
   still a region, a laugh, struck my ear. It was a curious laugh;
   distinct, formal, mirthless. I stopped: the sound ceased, only for
   an instant; it began again, louder: for at first, though distinct,
   it was very low. It passed off in a clamorous peal that seemed to
   wake an echo in every lonely chamber. (122)

The loneliest chamber that echoes this laughter is her heart. Troubled by this mad laugh and the uncanny echo it elicits within her, Jane senses something akin to her apprehensions about the man, his home, and the nature of her desires for both: "The laugh was repeated in its low, syllabic tone, and terminated in an odd murmur ... as tragic, as preternatural a laugh as any I ever heard" (123). She thinks at first that the laugh comes from tight-lipped servant Grace Poole: "When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard Grace Poole's laugh, the same peal, the same low, slow ha! ha! which, when first heard, had thrilled me: I heard, too, her eccentric murmurs; stranger than her laugh" (126). Hyenic duplicity and predatory mimicry are evoked by this laugh, but the real hyenic site is the entire Rochester household: a sham to trap a bride.

Ever since Gilbert and Gubar's The Madwoman in the Attic, we've seen Bertha as Jane's avatar, her "truest and darkest double" (360). In abjected Bertha we read feminism and anti-imperial critique together. Jane is horrified when Bertha's residence is disclosed, yet she also feels dark sympathy for a hyenic double. Her encounters with Bertha are uncanny scenes of education and self-discovery. When Bertha sets Rochester's bed on fire, Bronte echoes Jane's first meeting with him, as Jane initially thinks that it's the dog Pilot at her door. Then she hears "a demoniac laugh--low, suppressed, and deep--uttered as it seemed, at the very key-hole." Then, "something gurgled and moaned" (168), the sound the keynote of Goldsmith's tropical hyena. When Bertha first enters Jane's room, Jane thinks it's a vampire. This encounter is preceded by a dream "preface" (316) of Thornfield Hall as "a dreary ruin, the retreat of bats and owls." Hearing in this dream the sound of Rochester's horse (echoing their first encounter) and believing he is "departing for many years, and for a distant country," Jane climbs onto the ledge of a wall with a child, loses her balance, and they both fall. Awakening, she sees a tall, spectral figure in white standing in front of her mirror wearing her wedding veil: a hyena in drag. As in the dream, Bertha's actions are cryptic: she speaks to Jane through mimicry. Jane will not understand her until she learns that Bertha is the real Mrs. Rochester, and that she herself is the mimic, the fraud. If Bertha embodies abject mimicry, everything that Jane is not, she is also a Jane (would-be Mrs. Rochester) seen through a glass darkly.

In the dream that introduces Bertha, Bronte may have been recalling one of the first poems she ever wrote, a celebratory feast given by the literati of Glass-Town, the capital of imaginary colonial Angria. Bronte then imagines a time "ten centuries" hence, with the "splendid hall" a "darksome ruin" in this sound-scape:

   The yell of the hyena, the bloody-tiger's howl, May be heard in
   this magnificence, mixed with the lion's growl ...

   (31-32) (62)

Jane's dream intuits another "gladness fled away" (34): Thornfield a ruin, with the yell of a hyena. Angria and Thornfield are British deathscapes, whose hyenas, like Warren Hastings, are products of empire speaking of past failures and dark futures.

"I never saw a face like it! It was a discoloured face--it was a savage face ... the lips were swelled and dark; the brow furrowed; the black eyebrows widely raised over the blood-shot eyes," says Jane of Bertha (317). Racially "blackened," masculinized, and animalized, a figure of untamable anger, insanity, and excess, Bertha is the most complete expression of the imperial, racial, sexual, and gender trouble raised by the hyena. (63) Like Conrad's Kurtz, a figure of empire gone native in Heart of Darkness, Bertha is a prophecy of what Jane might become. After his exposure at the marriage altar, Rochester leads Jane up the narrow passageway into Thornfield's hidden hyena den. Here she meets the original Mrs. Rochester and confronts Thornfield's colonial history, possibly the Yorkshire hyenic den that Buckland found:

   In the deep shade, at the further end of the room, a figure ran
   backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being,
   one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on
   all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal:
   but it was covered with clothing; and a quantity of dark, grizzled
   hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face ... the clothed hyena
   rose up, and stood tall on its hind feet. (327-28)

The zoologists in a category crisis over the hyena haunt Jane's crisis of understanding: distinctions between human/animal, male/female, life/death, past/present collapse when the "clothed hyena" stands up and looks at Jane, linking Rochester's dark colonial past to the hope-shattered present. Bertha shows Jane a colonial ruin in the heart of England's darkness. When Jane returns to Thornfield Hall, after it has been destroyed by a fire set by Bertha, she finds her dream was prophesy: "there was the silence of death about it: the solitude of a lonesome wild" (472).

In Shirley (1849) Bronte again heard the howl of the hyena, but this time it was not the lone voice of a madwoman in an attic. It was the rioting mill workers against the machines putting them out of work, dooming them to starvation:

A simultaneously-hurled volley of stones had saluted the broad front of the mill, with all its windows; and now every pane of every

   lattice lay in shattered and pounded fragments. A yell followed
   this demonstration--a rioters' yell--a North-of-England--a
   Yorkshire-a West-Riding--a
   West-Riding-clothing-district-of-Yorkshire rioters' yell. You never
   heard that sound, perhaps, reader? So much the better for your
   ears--perhaps for your heart; since, if it rends the air in hate to
   yourself, or to the men or principles you approve, the interests to
   which you wish well, Wrath wakens to the cry of Hate: the Lion
   shakes his mane, and rises to the howl of the Hyaena: Caste stands
   up, ireful, against Caste; and the indignant, wronged spirit of the
   Middle ' Rank bears down in zeal and scorn on the famished and
   furious mass of the Operative Class. It is difficult to be
   tolerant--difficult to be just--in such moments. (64)

The cry of these Yorkshire hyenas, voicing hunger and anger, repudiates the "principles" and "interests" of a lionized, hated middle-class. Jane's "Ire" reappears--girlhood Jane rising against Mrs. Reed, abjected Bertha rising up on her hind feet--in this moment when "Caste stands up, ireful, against Caste. " In a confrontation of class against class, the hyena figures the rage, fears, and sympathies that underlie social abjection, exploitation, and objectification.

The Death of a Hyena

Over the course of history, the hyena, both in animal and human figuring, has troped Otherness and resistance, embodied in the uncertainties of a "similitude found in difference." And it focuses violent reaction: Wollstonecraft was anathematized, Marie Antoinette beheaded, Bertha Mason, in a mock version of Gray's "The Bard," written out of Jane Eyre: "shouting out till they could hear her a mile off," she "yelled, and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement" (476). "A great killer must love to kill," writes Ernest Hemingway, in Death in the Afternoon. (65) This love makes bull-fighting a masculine art form, one that gives meaning to the lives of those who kill (the exotic Spanish toreador), the bulls who die, and those who watch this spectacle (among them, the American lost generation). The power to kill well or to appreciate the art of killing distinguishes men from frauds--not only in the bullring. Hemingway returned, three years on, to the killing fields in The Green Hills of Africa, a celebration of big-game hunting as a site of masculine identity and power. Hunting, like bullfighting, describes a triangle: the hunted, the hunter, and the African assistant. Hemingway says that although he likes his servant/guide M'Cola, he doesn't understand him, particularly his sense of humor. M'Cola laughs at things that don't seem funny. When Hemingway shoots at birds, M'Cola laughs: at the birds who die, or if they don't, then at "the clown of the piece," the inept shooter. For M'Cola the only thing funnier than shooting birds is shooting hyenas:

   It was funny to M'Cola to see a hyena shot at close range. There
   was that comic slap of the bullet and the hyena's agitated surprise
   to find death inside of him. It was funnier to see a hyena shot at
   a great distance, in the heat shimmer of the plain, to see him go
   over backwards, to see him start that frantic circle, to see that
   electric speed that meant he was racing the nickelled death inside
   him. But the great joke of all, the thing M'Cola waved his hands
   across his face about ... the pinnacle of hyenic humor, was the
   hyena, the classic hyena, that--hit too far back while running,
   would circle madly, snapping and tearing at himself until he pulled
   his own intestines out, and then stood there, jerking them out and
   eating with relish.... Fisi. the hyena, hermaphroditic self-eating
   devourer of the dead, trailer of calving cows, hamstringer,
   potential biter-off of your face at night while you slept, sad
   yowler, camp-follower, stinking, fowl, with jaws that crack the
   bones that the lion leaves, belly dragging, loping away on the
   brown plain, looking back, mongrel dog-smart in the face; wack from
   the little Mannlicher and then the horrid circle starting. "Fisi,"
   M'Cola laughed, ashamed of him, shaking his bald black head. "Fisi.
   Eats himself. Fisi." (66)

Hemingway is upset by this callous laugh. Neither M'Cola nor the hyena sustain the big-game aesthetics of honorable death. What is more abject than a "self-eating devourer of the dead" furiously eating itself up to destroy the death inside? As a writer/hunter, Hemingway hurls his volley of verbal abuse, but as a hunter he depends on his state-of-the-art "manlier" ("Mannlicher") to put an end to the hyena and to the hyenic mimicry it occasions in M'Cola. Bronte understood why "it is difficult to be tolerant--difficult to be just--in such moments." Orwell did, too. He met Hemingway at about this time and a year later would publish "On Shooting an Elephant."

University of Toronto


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I would like to thank Susan J. Wolfson who generously devoted time to substantially editing this essay. It has benefited not only from what she removed, but also from her creative, intellectual, and stylistic engagement with the essay.

(1.) Wolfe, Animal Rites: American Culture, the Discourse of Species, and Posthumanist Theory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), 6. See Mary Poovey, The Proper Lady and the Woman Writer (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984).

(2.) See John M. MacKenzie, The Empire of Nature: Hunting, Conservation and British Imperialism (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988).

(3.) See Mothers of the Nation. SiR, 53 (Fall 2014)

(4.) See, for instance, Mellor, Mary Shelley: Her Life, Her Fiction, Her Monsters', and Susan J. Wolfson, Borderlines: The Shiftitigs of Gender in British Romanticism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006).

(5.) Raleigh, The History of the World in Five Books, nth ed., 2 vols. (London: G. Conyers, 1736), 1:65.

(6.) Buckland, "Account of an Assemblage of Fossil Teeth and Bones of Elephant, Rhinoceros, Hippopotamus, Bear, Tiger, and Hyaena, and Sixteen Other Animals; Discovered in a Cave at Kirkdale, Yorkshire, in the Year 1821 ..." Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London 112 (1822): 188.

(7.) James Thomson, The Seasons (London: J. Millan, 1770), lines 920-21.

(8.) Guy Tervarent, Les Animaux Symboliques Dans Les Bordures Des Tapisseries Bruxelloises au 16e Siecle (Bruxelles: Palais des Academies, 1968), 25.

(9.) Beauties of Natural History; or Elements of Zoography (London: Richardson and Urquhart, 1777), 47

(10.) T. H. White, ed. and tr., The Book of Beasts (London: Jonathan Cape, 1954), 31.

(11.) Topsell, The Historic of Foure-Footed Beastes (London: William laggard, 1607), 436.

(12.) Sparrman, Voyage to the Cape of Good Hope, 2 vols. (London: J. Robinson, 1785), 1:159; Goldsmith, An History of the Earth, and Animated Nature, 2nd ed., 8 vols. (London: J. Nourse, 1779), 3:343

(13.) Bhabha, "Of Mimicry and Man," The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994), 128-29.

(14.) Aristotle, Generation of Animals, The Works of Aristotle, eds. J. A. Smith and W. D. Ross (London: Oxford University Press, 1958), 3:6, 757a, 2 ff.

(15.) Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, 1990).

(16.) Aelian, On the Characteristics of Animals, trans. A. F. Scholfield, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1958), I, 45.

(17.) Aristotle, Generation of Animals, 3:6, 757a, 2 if.

(18.) Bullokar, An English Expositor (London: John Legatt, 1616).

(19.) M. J. Curley, ed., Physiologus (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1979), 52-53.

(20.) See Debra Hassig, "Sex in the Bestiaries," in The Mark of the Beast: The Medieval Bestiary in Art, Life, and Literature, ed. Debra Hassig (London: Garland Publishing, 1999), 71-93; and Medieval Bestiaries: Text, Image, Ideology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 145-55

(21.) See John Boswell, in Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980).

(22.) See Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (London: Routledge. 1992), 84-100.

(23.) John Milton, Complete Poems and Major Prose, ed. Merritt Y. Hughes (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1957), lines 98-105. Subsequent quotations from the poem are cited by lines in the text.

(24.) For a good discussion of Milton's hyena, see Karen Edwards, "Milton's Reformed Animals: An Early Modern Bestiary H-K," Milton Quarterly 41, no. 2 (2007): 115-19.

(25.) I thank Paul Stevens for helping me think through this post-colonial historiography.

(26.) Karen Edwards notes the epithet in Milton's Eikon aklastos: The image unbroaken : a perspective of the impudence, fabhood, vanitie, and prophannes, published in a libell entitled Eikonoklastee [sic] against Eikon basilike, or, The pourtraicture of His Sacred Majestie in his solitudes and sufferings, [SI: s.n.], 1651.

(27.) Milton, Pro Se Defensio, in Complete Prose Works of John Milton, ed. Don M. Wolfe (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959-1982), vol. 4, pt. 2:699, 751

(28.) Richard Polwhele, The Unsex'd Females (New York: William Cobbett, 1800), v; Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France (London: J. Dodsley, 1790), 161, 159, 165; and Letter to a Noble Lord, in The Writings and Speeches of Edward Burke, Gen. Ed. Paul Langford, 9 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981-1997), 9:156.

(29.) Burke, Letter to a Noble Lord, 147. For Hennin's print, see Bibliotheque nationale de France, Departement Estampes et phocographie, reserve fol-qb-201 (134); http://, accessed 16 October 2014.

(30.) Letter to Earl Fitzwilliam (21 June 1794), Correspondence of Edmund Burke, ed. Thomas W. Copeland, 10 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958-1978), 7:553.

(31.) Warren Hastings, The Trial of Warren Hastings, Esq. complete from February 1788, to June 1794, 2 vols. (London: J. Owen, 1794), 2:713-14.

(32.) Letter to Hannah More (21 August 1792), The Yale Edition of Horace Walpole's Correspondence, ed. W. S. Lewis, 48 vols. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1937-83), 31:373. Hereafter abbreviated Correspondence and cited by letter recipient.

(33.) To Orford Nares (14 December 1792), Correspondence, 15:235-36.

(34.) Bruce's Travels, 5 vols. (Edinburgh: J. Ruthven, 1790), 5:118.

(35.) To Hugh Seymour-Conway (31 August 1792), Correspondence, 39:491-92.

(36.) To Lady Ossory (29 January 1793), Correspondence, 34:177-78.

(37.) To Samuel Lysons (8 November 1793), Correspondence, 15:247-48.

(38.) See Joan B. Landes, Women in the Public Sphere in the Age of French Revolution (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), 95. For the journalistic and graphic representations, see James Cuno, ed., French Caricature and the French Revolution, tySg--iygg (Los Angeles: Grunwald Center for the Graphic Arts, Wight Art Gallery, UCLA, 1988); Antoine de Baecque, La Caricature revolutionnaire (Paris: Presses du Centre National des Lettres, 1988); Alexandra K. Wettlaufer, "Absent Fathers, Martyred Mothers: Domestic Drama and (Royal) Family Values in A Graphic History of Louis the Sixteenth," Eighteenth-Century Life 23, no. 3 (1999): 1-37; Nancy N. Barker, " 'Let Them Eat Cake': The Mythical Marie Antoinette and the French Revolution," The Flistorian 55 (1993): 709-25; and Elizabeth Colwill, "Pass as a Woman, Act like a Man: Marie-Antoinette as Tribade in the Pornography of the French Revolution," Homosexuality in Modem France, eds. Jeffrey Merrick and Bryant Ragan, Jr. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 54-79.

(39.) Bibliotheque nationale de France, departement Estampes et photographie, reserve qb-370 (25)-ft 4 [De Vinck, 4305]; gallery-los-angeles.html, accessed 16 October 2014. See La Caricature revolutionnaire, page 233.

(40.) For the popularity of two-faced figures in revolutionary caricatures, see de Baecque, La Caricature revolutionnaire, 161-65.

(41.) Bibliotheque nationale de France, departement Estampes et photographic, reserve qb-370 (23)-ft 4 [De Vinck, 3922]; http://gallica.bnf.ff/ark:/12148/btvib6947746j, accessed 16 October 2014. See French Caricature and the French Revolution, 1789-1799, 189-90. Villeneuve's companion cartoon of Louis xvi as a pig was titled Louis le perjure. See Bibliotheque nationale de France, departement Estampes et photographic [De Vinck, 3921]; I&ID = 40249670&SNI =o&SN2 = o&host = catalogue, accessed 16 October 2014. For a two-headed representation of the King as goat and the Queen as hyena, see the anonymous Les Deux ne font qu'un, Bibliotheque nationale de France, departement Estampes et photographic [De Vinck, 3921 and 3925]; I&ID = 40249674&SN 1 =o&SN2 = o&host = catalogue, accessed 16 October 2014.

(42.) See Hans Kruuk, The Spotted Hyena (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1972); Stephen E. Glickman, "The Spotted Hyena from Aristotle to the Lion King: Reputation is Everything," Social Research 62, no. 3 (1995): 501-37; Stephen Jay Gould, "Hyena Myths and Realities," Hen's Teeth and Horse's Toes (New York: Norton, 1983), 147-57.

(43.) Wollstonecraft, Vindication of the Rights of Woman (London: J. Johnson, 1792), 53.

(44.) Owenson (Lady Morgan), The Book of the Boudoir, 2 vols. (Paris: A. & W. Galignani, 1829), 1:88.

(45.) Browne, Travels in Africa, Egypt, and Syria, from the year 1792 to 1798 (London: T. Cadell, 1799), 259-60.

(46.) Goldsmith, History, 3:343, 2:321.

(47.) Arnold, "Deathscapes: India in an Age of Romanticism and Empire, 1800-1856," in Nineteenth-Century Worlds: Global Formations Past and Present, eds. Keith Hanley and Greg Kucich (London: Routledge, 2008), 274.

(48.) See Johannes Fabian, Time and the Other: How Anthropology Makes Its Object (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983), 31.

(49.) Roberts, Oriental Scenes, Dramatic Sketches and Tales, With Other Poems (London: Edward Bull, 1832), 25, 167. Subsequent citations to this work appear in the text by page.

(50.) Arnold, "Deathscapes," 266. See also my Romanticism and Colonial Disease (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), 242-76.

(51.) Emma Roberts, Scenes and Characteristics of Hindostan, 3 vols. (London: William H. Alley, 1835), 2:34-35.

(52.) Roberts, "Indian Graves," Oriental Scenes, 116.

(53.) Rudyard Kipling, in The Years Between (Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1919). Subsequent quotations from the poem are cited in the text by lines.

(54.) Kipling to Frank Doubleday (18 March 1919), Letters of Rudyard Kipling, 4 vols. (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1990), 4:543.

(55.) From the Buckland Coprolite file, Oxford University Museum (cited in Nicolaas A. Rupke, The Great Chain of History: William Buckland and the English School of Geology 1814-1840 [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983], 142).

(56.) Buckland, "Account of an Assemblage of Fossil Teeth and Bones," 186-87, 196; Letter to Miss Talbot (26 November 1821), Manuscript, Conybeare National Museum of Wales (cited in Rupke, The Great Chain of History, 33).

(57.) For a discussion of this lithograph, see Martin J. S. Rudwick, Scenes from Deep Time: Early Pictorial Representations of the Prehistoric World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 36-42.

(58.) In C. G. B. Daubeny, Fugitive Poems Connected with Natural History and Physical Science (Oxford and London: James Parker, 1869), pages 119-20, lines 1-8. Subsequent lines cited in the text are from this source. The indicated title is taken from the Magdalen College Daubeny manuscript collection upon which the published version was based (see Rupke, The Great Chain of History, 72).

(59.) Lines 15-22, Thomas Gray Archive, ?text=bapo, accessed 16 October 2014.

(60.) The Bard, line 144. In Bardic Nationalism: The Romantic Novel and the British Empire (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), Katie Trumpener shows how bardic literature, originally charged with preserving national memory, came to buttress imperial ideologies and to enforce cultural amnesia.

(61.) Jane Eyre, ed. Michael Mason (London: Penguin, 1996), 268. Subsequent quotations cited in the text are from this edition. In a July 1834 letter to Ellen Nussey, Bronte recommended Bewick, Goldsmith, Audubon, and Gilbert White for natural history; see The Letters of Charlotte Bronte: With a Selection of Letters by Family and Friends, ed. Margaret Smith, 3 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 1:131.

(62.) The Poems of Charlotte Bronte, ed. Tom Winnifrith (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1984).

(63.) See Susan L. Meyer, "Colonialism and the Figurative Strategy of Jane Eyre," Victorian Studies 33 (1990): 247-68.

(64.) Charlotte Bronte, Shirley, eds. Herbert Rosengarten and Margaret Smith (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), 386.

(65.) Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon (New York: Scribners, 1932), 232.

(66.) Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa (New York: Scribners, 1935)>> 36-38
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Author:Bewell, Alan
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Date:Sep 22, 2014
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