How we cite our quotes: Possession: A Romance. London: Vintage Books, 1991.
Quote #7
Today I laid down Melusina having come trembling to the end of this marvellous work. What shall I say of it? It is truly original, although the general public may have trouble in recognizing its genius, because it makes no concession to the vulgar frailties of imagination, and because its virtues are so far removed in some ways at least from those expected of the weaker sex. Here is no swooning sentiment, no timid purity, no softly gloved lady-like patting of the reader's sensibility, but lively imagination, but force and vigour. (7.68)
Ellen Ash's review of Christabel LaMotte's epic poem The Fairy Melusine gives us a window into the public reception that a woman writer like LaMotte could have expected in the nineteenth century. As Ellen's words make clear, the "force and vigour" of LaMotte's writing would have been considered unusual—maybe even unnatural—for a woman.
Quote #8
Here is a Riddle, Sir, and old Riddle, an easy Riddle—hardly worth your thinking about—a fragile Riddle, in white and Gold with life in the middle of it. There is a gold, soft cushion, whose gloss you may only paradoxically imagine with your eyes closed tight—see it feelingly, let it slip through your mind's fingers. And this gold cushion is enclosed in its own crystalline casket, a casket translucent and endless in its circularity, for there are no sharp corners to it […].(8.45)
In one of her early letters to Randolph Henry Ash, Christabel LaMotte uses this metaphoric riddle (the answer is "an egg") to describe her solitude. As she tells him, her seclusion is necessary for her artistic and intellectual freedom. If it's cracked or intruded upon, it will, like an egg, be ruined.
Quote #9
We were to Renounce. Not the lives that then encompassed us—cramped Daughterly Devotion to a worldly mother—nor the genteel Slavery of governessing—those were no loss—those were gleefully fled and opposition staunchly met. But we were to renounce the outside World—and the usual female Hopes (and with them the usual Female Fears) in exchange for—dare I say Art—a daily duty of crafting—from exquisite curtains to Mystical Paintings, from biscuits with sugar roses to the Epic of Melusina. (15.154)
In a much later letter to Randolph Henry Ash—written once she begins to feel that their correspondence is crossing the line from friendship into something more dangerous—Christabel LaMotte expands on her early riddle of the egg, and explains exactly what she and Blanche Glover were trying to achieve in their shared solitude.