Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Don't Look Under the Bed: An Analysis of Fear and Emotion

In Edmund Burke's essay on the sublime, he describes the concept in a way that points to terror as the driving principle behind sublimity. He argues, "No passion robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear. For fear being an apprehension of pain or death, it operates in a manner that resembles actual pain. Whatever therefore is terrible, with regard to sight, is sublime too," (Burke 133). When considering this idea of the sublime in light of today's reading of A Sicilian Romance, we begin to unearth sublimity everywhere we look: behind every locked door of the castle, around every moonlit encounter with an ominous and gloomy cave. Radcliffe's ability to quickly shift the novel's language from light and cheery to dark and depressing reveals an impressive talent to portray pure emotion, toying with her own knowledge of the sublime.



If Gothic novels have made anything clear thus far, it is that emotion and a dash of religion are the reigning powers in the castle. Still clearer is the brute force by which those in charge come under the influence of these powers; the marquis alone represents the most angry and fearsome character, apart from the castle itself. A colorful reminder of this can be found on page 114 of the novel, when the marquis is overcome by a fit of rage spurred on by nothing but the pure helplessness of his situation: "the violence of his nature spurned the disguise of art, and burst forth in contemptuous impeachment of the valour and discernment of the duke, who soon retorted with equal fury. The consequence might have been fatal," Radcliffe goes on to describe the inner passions of the marquis and the duke alike, and, realizing that their woes are the same, they subside.

Each character in the novel encounters fear of the sublime to a certain extent, and only a handful of these are able to escape the gripping paralysis of terror and enter some realm of understanding. It is with careful precision that Radcliffe chooses who will embody this concept, and pious characters like Cornelia the nun, the monks and superiors, as well as the Abate tend toward a humble, spiritual understanding of the sublime. Cornelia's speech on page 121 reveals the importance of this discovery as she recounts the tales of her past woes with a calm and certain disposition; this point is crucial in Julia's development of understanding. Here she finds a companion through mutual sorrows, and the wisdom of emotional strength is passed from the nun to herself.

Not everybody is so lucky or so easily enlightened, however. In the ironic double pursuit of both Julia and the other nobleman's daughter, fate and luck are on the side of the runaways, and those in pursuit are met with nothing but confusion, fear, and rage. In a Gothic aristocrat these three words appear synonymous; the nobleman gets confused, he gets scared, and then he gets angry. As we have seen with the marquis and several other characters, there is no thought process, rationalization, or sensibility in the blind rage or fear exhibited through frustrations of the unknown, or the sublime.

On page 84 of the text, the duke and his company are scared out of their wits by the darkness, the very epitome of the unknown. "They... found themselves bewildered in a wild and savage country. Their only remaining care was to extricate themselves from so forlorn a situation, and they listened at every step with anxious attention for some sound that might discover them to the haunts of men. They listened in vain," because, of course, there was nothing there. A Sicilian Romance is colored with descriptions just as ominous as this one, with just as little evidence supporting the company's fear.

It's interesting to look at how the novel thrives on the excitement of pure emotion, and even more so how Radcliffe manipulates the characters to explore her own struggle with emotions and the sublime. "In common with many writers of her generation, Ann Radcliffe consciously harnessed her experiences of intense emotional distress, which she had learned to overcome and control through minute exhaustive re-creations of what she absorbed from learned books and careful study of engravings," from A Landscape of Memory. Radcliffe reflects her own negative, irrational emotions into the roles of those conspiring against Julia, and in turn reflects her discovered enlightenment in those who provide her aid and safety. It is possible Radcliffe embodies herself, her fears, and her wonders in Julia. For more information on Radcliffe's career and how it reflected in her work, refer to the link, A Landscape of Memory.




How does the sublime manifest itself in Radcliffe's descriptions of scenery, and to what extent do these amplify or quiet the emotions of present characters?

Which characters appear more (or less) emotionally well-equipped to deal with prospects of the sublime, and what might have motivated Radcliffe to assign these roles?

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