Sydney Owenson's "The Missionary" and Iconic Realism

In her novel, The Missionary, Sydney Owenson presents two religious communities, the Hindu community of 17th century India and the European Roman Catholic community during the Spanish Inquisition. Set in the year, 1620, after the establishment of the British East India Company in the lush jungles and arid desert of Western and Northern India, this tale illustrates a political genesis of European imperialism represented by the two central characters, Hilarion, a 25-year-old Portuguese Franciscan Nuncio and Luxima, a young, widowed Brahmin priestess.  

To some readers of this narrative, Owenson may appear to be telling an adventurous romance in an exotic setting to entertain her aristocratic readers, and this may be partially true. However, her romantic novel illustrates much more, for iconic properties of parochial dynamism reside at the core of each character’s restrictive community. These properties include the intense need for the Missionary to convert non-Christians to Catholicism and the deep conviction of a Hindu’s integration of natural and spiritual beliefs. Furthermore, Owenson creates an unrestrictive, fertile setting, where the Catholic missionary represents dogmatic and imperious Britain and the Hindu priestess, faithful to her own belief and community, represents the fervent hope for freedom of faith found in Owenson’s Catholic Ireland. 

Therefore, in her novel, The Missionary, Sydney Owenson illustrates the semiotic theory of iconic realism by representing two disparate icons, placed within a realistic community, to reveal a cultural reality that strict adherence to an intolerant dogma ultimately leads to the consequence of cultural cynicism.

Robert Frost's "The Oven Bird" and Iconic Realism (Click onto this title to hear and see an ovenbird.)

(Oven Bird photo from Google Images)

The Oven Bird

by Robert Frost

There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing. 

Robert Frost's poetry portrays the enigma of humanity through his observations of nature. His poem, "The Oven Bird," is no exception. The high-pitched song of this bird reminds the busy human of the lessons learned through the simplicity of nature.

The iconic structure here is the oven bird, a woodland icon of summer, representing the natural progression of life. In the tenth line, Frost points out, "He says the highway dust is over all." This line is unusual in that it follows vivid, natural imagery that awakens the reader to the conflict between humanity's impact versus the seemingly insignificant bird. A bird whose voice sounds like a song to us, but to the bird, it's simply communicating to other birds in a natural way, "not to sing.”

In this poem, Frost also illustrates through the passage, "Mid-summer is to Spring as one is to ten," the necessity of a natural sequence and the devastation that can exist when humanity interrupts or neglects this natural progression. 

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day! 

I've posted this poem on both of my sites. This doesn't have anything to do with iconic realism, but realism, yes. It's a verse that, hopefully, illustrates the flowing bond of memory and emotions between Mother and Daughter. 

Sleeping Mother with Child  by Christian Krohg, 1883\

Breath 

Behind her sleeping eyes,

a youthful face remains within

the gentle embrace of her heart,

impish blue eyes, trying her patience,

the quiet soft puffs of sleeping breath.

She smiles, wondering

what this wee one dreamt,

so small, so peaceful,

then erupting passion

and the sighing relief in its passing,

growing, knowing that surely

there will return a forgiving kiss.

Eyes closed, she remains

in cherished supplication

wafting on the quiet breath

of the one who calls her Mom.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos