How we cite our quotes: Possession: A Romance. London: Vintage Books, 1991.
Quote #7
She drove through the park, much of which had been planted by that earlier Sir George who had married Christabel's sister Sophie, and had had a passion for trees, trees from all parts of the distant earth, Persian plum, Turkey oak, Himalayan pine, Caucasian walnut and the Judas tree. He had had his generation's expansive sense of time—he had inherited hundred-year-old oaks and beeches and had planted spreads of woodland, rides and coppices he would never see. (8.42)
Earlier, when Lady Joan Bailey spoke of the connection between tending the forest and preserving British history, it might have been possible to view her words as her own personal opinion. Here, Possession's narrator echoes her sentiment and suggests that the Seal Court forest is the product of a generation that was both more forward-looking and more backward-looking than Maud Bailey's own.
Quote #8
Women, not trees, were Maud's true pastoral concern. Her idea of these primeval creatures included her generation's sense of their imminent withering and dying, under the drip of acid rain, or in the invisible polluted gusts of the wind. She was visited by a sudden vision of them dancing, golden-green, in a bright spring a hundred years ago, flexible saplings, tossed and resilient. This thickened forest, her own humming metal car, her prying curiosity about whatever had been Christabel's life, seemed suddenly to be the ghostly things, feeding on, living through, the young vitality of the past. (8.43)
Just to hammer home the point, Possession's narrator gives us this brief, visionary moment to emphasize the difference between Maud Bailey's historical vantage point and that of the generations that came before her.
Quote #9
The truth is—my dear Miss LaMotte—that we live in an old world—a tired world—a world that has gone on piling up speculation and observations until truths that might have been graspable in the bright Dayspring of human morning […] are now obscured by palimpsest on palimpsest, by thick horny growths over that clear vision—as moulting serpents, before they burst forth with their new flexible-brilliant skins, are blinded by the crusts of their old one […].(10.27)
Through one of his letters to Christabel LaMotte, we readers catch a glimpse of Randolph Henry Ash's complex and deeply poetic perspective on the history of human thought. It's not for nothing that historical themes preoccupied so much of his poetry.