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Abstract: Among Florence Marryat’s vast canon of work, scholars have mostly focused on her spiritualism, her alleged proto-feminism, and, not least, the racial politics of her most famous novel, The Blood of the Vampire (1897). Little attention, however, has been paid to the role of her abundant nature imaginations that infuse most of her colonial fictions. Among these, Marryat’s decades-spanning engagement with ‘the tropics’ stands out, ranging from the miasmic and deceitful Caribbean in Too Good for Him (1865), the lush Brazilian jungles of Her Father’s Name (1876), the glimpses of post-revolutionary Haitian Voodoo in A Daughter of the Tropics (1887) to the plantation settings of A Crown of Shame (1888) and The Blood of the Vampire. With attention to Marryat’s ecological fictions, I argue that these novels’ allegedly liberatory rhetoric marks the tropics of the Caribbean and the Americas as a distinct epistemic problem for the imperial project, in that they confound the affective balance of white, English perception, and colonial desire. As a result, charting, understanding, and thereby re-mastering ‘nature’ are framed as foundational processes for white – often specifically female – self-awareness. Written in the wake of the brutally curbed 1865 Jamaican Morant Bay Rebellion, Marryat’s tropics thus lament not women’s social exclusion per se but specifically white women’s exclusion from the imperial project. Ultimately, the nature encounter in Marryat’s tropics offers proto-feminist empire fictions as a remedy for the perceived erosion of the late nineteenth-century plantation ecologies.
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