Monday, November 17, 2014

Narrative Structure and the Will of Nature in Frankenstein

Reading through the first half of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, it's not difficult to imagine how rich scholarly discussions have perpetuated for the nearly 200 years since its publication.  The novel appears at once very openly interpretable, partially due to the relevancy of the novel with modern and romantic readers and also to the novel's ambitious scope. Though relatively short, the novel presents itself as the summation of early romantic influences, commenting on the passions, nature, the sublime, and issues of masculinity and femininity, all while directing its focus forward toward the unknown.  As I was reading, I was struck by the narrative structure, how the interwoven perspectives of Walton, Frankenstein, and the creature show each characters' receding levels of humanity.  As the novel proceeds inward, readers must contemplate who is man and who is monster, a feat somewhat more difficult than the novel would have us suspect.

Walton, Frankenstein, and the creature in an unintentionally appropriate color sequence

The humanity of each character can be represented by their relationship with nature, since as readers, our sympathies are placed in those who exist with nature rather than those who try to conquer it.  Robert Walton is the overly ambitious, self-consciously self-educated explorer, who after failing to become a poet, seeks his claim over nature by sailing to the North Pole.  Like Frankenstein, Walton desires to reveal the unknown, for "what may not be expected in a country of eternal light?" (7).  He half expects a paradise beyond the ice, and once again, like Frankenstein, his double interest in the fantastical or supernatural and the scientific is dangerous.  He essentially is Frankenstein pre-monster reanimation, and Frankenstein's story serves to act as a warning for Walton.  


Frankenstein's notice or disinterest in the sublime proves useful in understanding his relationship with nature, for although he is often set against the scenery, Frankenstein finds the sublime in nature's most tempestuous throws.  Much of his interest in science can be traced back to childhood events, such as the thunderstorm he witnessed at age fifteen.  After "watching its progress with curiosity and delight," the storm violently hits a tree near Frankenstein's house, and he recalls how he "never beheld any thing so utterly destroyed" (23).  This is the first time Frankenstein witnesses nature produce something terrible, something outside of man's control.  He finds it sublime only because it excites his curiosity, and his animation of the creature is an attempt at recreating these feelings within him.  He becomes obsessed not only with "infusing life into an inanimate body," (35) but with creating a man-made sublime.  For two years his "eyes were insensible to the charms of nature," (34) and he recalls how when the creature came to life, "the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled [his] heart" (36).  Although Frankenstein finds disgust in his work, his power in overcoming the boundaries of life and death instills in him a God-complex that lingers throughout the rest of the novel.

The creature that Frankenstein creates appears more connected with nature than either Walton or Frankenstein.  He finds sanctuary in the North Pole, one of the last places untouched by mankind, and is able to gracefully navigate through mountainous terrain and inclement weather.  Frankenstein's "monster" is the embodied form of nature itself; he is terrible and ugly only because the passions which led Frankenstein to create the creature are terrible and ugly.  

There are a ton of Frankenstein adaptations out there, but here's a well-known scene from the 1931 film with Colin Clive and Boris Karloff.  Surprisingly, this is the fourth film adaptation made.

Discussion Questions

1.  How does Shelley use Frankenstein's relationship with nature and the sublime to characterize him and show his development throughout the novel? 

2. What prevents Frankenstein from establishing a creator-creation relationship with his monster? How does this affect the creature's decisions as time goes on?


Frankenstein and the Faustian Bargain

Victor fleeing from his creation
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein differs greatly from the watered down version of the cinematic world. What the cinematic versions lack are Shelley's Victor Frankenstein and his battling conscience. We catch glimpses of it in the old movies, but it never is as fully developed as in the original novel. Victor Frankenstein has an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He devotes all of his time and energy to the study of science. You could almost say that Victor had... sold his soul... for the total understanding of science, life, and death.

Faustus (right) making a deal with Mephistophilis (left)
This metaphorical selling of one's soul harkens back to Christopher Marlowe's play Doctor Faustus. In this play, a man of theological study makes a deal to sell his soul in return for knowledge on life and death, knowledge that normally is known by God and his angels. This concept has become known as a Faustian Bargain, and is still prevalent in today's books, television, and movies. The TV show Supernatural and Disney's The Little Mermaid are popular examples of Faustian Bargains.

Crossroads Demon Deal
Ariel and the Contract
One of the concepts that preoccupies the mind and studies of Victor Frankenstein is the idea of bringing life to the dead, or necromancy. Faustus too is interested in this idea. In fact, this is how he is introduced into the play. Both men desire to have the power of God, the ability to control and create death from life and life from death. It is suiting that the original title of the novel was Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus. Prometheus was a titan of ancient Greek mythology. His crime was bringing fire to the mortals. Previously this knowledge was only known by the gods and goddesses of Olympus. Faustus receives the knowledge he seeks and the service of the devil Mephistophilis for twenty four years at the cost of his immortal soul.

Victor's situation is a little more complicated than those of Prometheus and Faustus. At a young age Victor found a book on Agrippa. From then on he devoted his studies to the ancient and medieval scientists and natural philosophers. These men's theories and experiments were what launched modern science and medicine. But their theories also dabbled in magic and the occult. These men are noted for things such as alchemy, astrology, and astronomy. The scientists of Victor's time thought these to be crackpot ideas and the study of them as time wasted. Once Victor gets to university in Ingolstadt, he meets Monsieur Kempe who tells him that his ardent study of the old natural philosophers was in vain. Oddly enough, this does not deter Victor's passion for his dream of fully understanding nature, it actually increased the fervor of his studies. He threw himself completely into his studies. After two years, he had become one of the foremost scholars at Ingolstadt. During this time, he did not eat or sleep much and he did not keep in touch with his father, brothers, or Elizabeth. It was not until after he had finally created his monster that he took a break from his scientific pursuits. 

Arguably, one of the most lasting tropes of Doctor Faustus is the idea of a good angel and a bad angel. Faustus is constantly doubting himself and whether he should continue with his plans. He is visited by a good angel that tells him to repent and God will forgive him. But Faustus is also visited by a bad angel. The bad angel tells Faustus that God will never forgive him and never love him again so he should keep his deal with the devil. Victor also has a good angel and a bad angel, however they exist in his mind. He battles with his conscience from the moment he throws himself into his studies in Ingolstadt. He argued with himself over the ethics of science and whether he should continue with his experiments. In the end, Victor chooses to continue and does finish his experiments just as Fautsus continues with his deal.



Discussion Questions:
1. The metaphorical deal- If Victor sold his soul, to whom did he sell it? What does he get from the deal? What sealed the deal? What are the repercussions of the deal? What do you think will happen when his time is up? What is the role of the monster in this deal?

2. Did Victor truly foresee what his experiments would lead to? Victor mentions that both his father and Monsieur Kempe told him to abandon Agrippa and the like. Could he have heeded their warnings? What would it take to change his mind? Victor is noted for his passion for science, how can we apply Baillie to this?

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

The Joy in Fear

            From Baillie’s Introductory Discourse one can see the importance she lays on the passions and how a Drama, in her opinion, represents these in the most realistic way. It’s the sympathetic curiosity which she believes to be an innate feature in all individuals which drives us to question actions and feelings in order to understand the motive behind them. In Baillie’s tragedy Orra, this sympathetic curiosity is evoked by Orra, as by the end of the play she seems to go mad. What leads her to this fate is the crucial question, and that which Baillie attempts to describe throughout the play.



            Orra’s fascination with the supernatural seems almost as an addiction, for despite her knowing what these stories will do to her, she urges Cathrina on. Alice seems to be the one to notice the toll these stories have on Orra and worries about her health and on page 103 addresses her: “What pleasure is there, lady, when thy hand, Cold as the valley’s ice, with hasty grasp Seizes on her who speaks, while thy shrunk from Cow’ring and shiv’ring stands with keen turn’d ear To catch what follows of the pausing tale?” Orra goes on to explain how although to the external eye it may seem that is causes her pain, in reality she finds “joy in fear.” As our sympathetic curiosity grows as readers, we want to decipher why she feels this joy when in her semblance all one can see it terror. Although many interpretations may exist, one explanation can be found in Burke’s definition of the sublime in his A philosophical enquiry into the origin of our ideas of the sublime.


He stated that, “When danger or pain press too nearly, they are incapable of giving any delight, and are simply terrible; but at certain distances, and with certain modifications, they may be, and they are delightful, as we every day experience…Whatever excites this delight, I call sublime.” With this definition one can further understand Orra’s joy, or as Burke would state, delight. He goes on to say that the passions that belong to self-preservation are the strongest of all the passions and in the end this seems to be true, for in order to save herself from what she thinks is the ghost of the huntsman, she crosses this threshold between terror, which can be linked to the sublime and horror, which only inflicts pain. Burke thought no passion so effectually robbed the mind of all its power of acting and reasoning as fear did, which proves true in Orra’s case. Therefore, one can see Orra’s maddening as a mechanism of self-preservation, for on page 134 she says “Would that beneath these planks of senseless matter I could, until the dreadful hour is past, as senseless be!” She wants to escape from this world and does so in the end.


Discussion Questions:
      What effect does the sublime have on Orra in your opinion?
      In her madness, do you still believe she feels this joy she mentions earlier in the play?
   What do you make of this Joy she speaks of?

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Ghost Stories Are Nothing New: The Psychology of Craving Fear

In Joanna Baillie’s Orra, the title character consistently asks to hear horror stories from Cathrina, her attendant. In the beginning of the play, when Orra is safe and at home the request seems reasonable, however she continues to ask for new stories even when in already terrifying situations. When Orra is safe the reader doesn’t question her request for ghost stories because it’s something we as a culture are familiar with. From horror movies, to haunted houses, to best-selling horror novels, seeking out fear is nothing new. But why is this? Why do people seek out things that only serve to terrify them? It’s simple, because, as Baillie puts it, "there is pleasure in [fear]" (Baillie 103).

The reason horror is so appealing to people is because they know they are never in any actual danger. Watching an evil spirit terrorize a family on television may make a person jump, cling to things around them and scream, but the fact is the moment the film is over, it’s over. The viewer can walk away and continue their life without worrying that a demon child secretly inhabits their living room. It’s the same thing for Orra. When she hears a ghost story the feeling of “cold blood [shooting] through every vein” (Baillie 103) isn’t really fear, its excitement. She knows that once the story is over she can go back to her life with the occasional nightmare as her only repercussion. It is only once the excitement turns to actual fear, once the imagined threat becomes real, that we see the true effects of the passion.


Before Orra has heard that she is to be confined in the abandoned castle until she agrees to marry Glottenbal, there is still evidence that her excitement is beginning to shift into fear. Alice makes Cathrina stop her story of Orra’s ancestor murdering a hunter because of the increased effect it seems to be having on Orra. When confronted she states that, “[her] mind of late has strange impressions ta’en,” and she doesn’t know why (Baillie 105). At this point it should be too early for Orra to have had any real fear affecting her. She is still secure with her ladies and Theobald, who see seems to like, however, she states that lately her fear is manifesting itself in a way she is not used to. Consequently a few lines later Urston enters and explains to Orra that there has been talk of sending her away, the first sign that the stories she has heard may actually present themselves as a threat to her.

Orra seems to exist in a world much like our own. People discuss ghosts and fairies and other supernatural events as if they could be real, however, no actual proof exists and for that reason they do not live in perpetual fear of the supernatural. Occasionally people will share a story of some unexplained event that has happened to them and those listening will look over their shoulder a few more times than necessary walking home, but that is the extent of the threat. Rudigere represents a very real threat to Orra. He is a man who has expressed obvious interest in her, with no intention of backing off. He is the reason she has been exiled in the first place and she is essentially powerless against him. She can push him away as much as she wants, but he is in charge of her security at the castle so the moment he decides to get what he wants through force, he potentially could. Orra is aware of this on some level and isn’t sure how to handle a situation where she is caught between physical and intangible supernatural threats. This complicates the situation because she has no one to turn to for comfort as the person who is meant to be protecting her has proven that he can’t be trusted with her body.


The appearance of Theobald is what eventually drives Orra to lose her mind because he represents what she knows to be impossible coming to life before her eyes. In the same way that someone watching The Ring would lose all sense of pleasure should the little girl crawl out of their own television, Orra is witnessing what appears to be an actual supernatural event come to life. When Cathrina told her about the legend of the hunter, Orra was in a position where it where a ghost coming for her was still an impossibility. Now, the situation has changed, she’s in the situation Cathrina’s ghost story described, and she is under the real influence caused by her fear of Rudigere. The combination of physical and psychological fear has left her in an extremely vulnerable position and the appearance of Theobald is just what she needs to be driven over the edge. She now knows from Catherina that spirits are real and she knows from Rudigere that her body is in danger, now she has a what she believes to be a supernatural force with the ability to kill physical body. This is when the fear becomes too much. The shift from imagined dangers to real ones is not pleasurable and it leads to Orra experiencing a fear she can no longer cope with. 


For another paper on Orra and fear, click here. You'll need to go to page 289 to access the particular article on Orra, this link leads to an entire book and various literary subjects.

On an only somewhat related note, while I was reading I could not stop thinking about the dream sequence in Anastasia, you know the one that makes the movie completely inappropriate for wimps like me? Check it out here if you don't mind being scared for life.

Discussion Questions:
1. When is the first time we see Orra's pleasure in her fear turn to actual horror?
2. Was what she was experiencing with Cathrina in the garden only excitement at the story or was she having a moment where she was able to foresee the actual danger coming her way? If so, what could have triggered this premonition? The increased pressure on her to marry?
2. How does the combination of Rudigere's presence and her exposure to Cathrina's stories work towards Orra's eventual insanity? Is one more important than the other?
3. How does the presence of the bandits aid in Orra's fear? She doesn't know they are there, as far as the reader knows, but they could represent a real threat. What is their purpose?

Monday, November 10, 2014

On Dreams and Nightmares in Baillie's Orra

In Act 2 Scene 1 Orra has a monologue where she talks about dreams, and what she finds most terrifying about them. In the scene, Alice talks about a night where she comes across Orra in her bedroom and observes that she is having a very fitful sleep. Alice thought about waking her, but decided not to and Orra is thankful about that. She explains in her monologue (105) that she isn't afraid of bad dreams, she is afraid of waking up in the middle of the night after a bad dream.

Orra explains, "Before mine eyes pass all incongruous things,/Huge, horrible, and strange, on which I stare/as idiots do upon this changeful world," (105) The key phrase here is "as idiots do." While you are dreaming you are not aware of what is going on, you are hardly even aware that you are in a dream. You see horrible fantastical things but they do not process. You have no reason or sense to register what you are seeing. Even though the images might be horrifying, they "pass by" and are forgotten. However once you wake up, you become aware again. You regain your usual mental capacities and are able to make "sense" of what you have seen in your nightmares. This is what Orra is afraid of:  the awful realizations your logical, awake mind makes in the dark after it's been primed from images inspired by her nightmares.

Pictured: The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli

This monologue is more than just an explanation of dreams and nightmares, it is also a meditation on the nature of Fear, the main "passion" that Baillie is fixating for this particular play. Think about Orra's dream monologue but replace "Dream" with "Ghost Story." Now think about the way Orra's superstitious fear develops throughout the play, specifically the way Cathrina implants the fear in Orra's psyche by telling her the ghost story of the Count of Hugo. In a way, the ghost story performs the role of a dream or nightmare. They are a series of "Huge, horrible, and strange" images passing before her eyes: the horn being blown three times, the haunted castle, the image of the hunter-knight stalking the descendants of Hugo. Although Orra is immediately disturbed upon hearing the story from Cathrina, this is equivalent to Orra tossing and turning as she has a nightmare. The actual "dreadful waking" doesn't take place until she is alone in the dark in the haunted castle locked in her room. This is where she, in a sense, wakes up and her mind recalls the images from the ghost story and starts "Shaping their forms distinctively and vivid/to visions horrible" (105)

This is the nature of Orra's fear. As we've seen this isn't a fear that preys on the weak minded. What I mean by that is that this fear that consumes Orra is fueled by her reason and sense. To reiterate once more: it's not the nightmare that drives Orra mad, it's the waking up. Orra might have been experienced "Horror" when she saw the figure of the Hunter-Knight emerge from the trap door, but it's the "Terror" that she experienced for days before hand that really pushed her over the edge. The fear Orra experiences develops slowly; it is insidious.

Also just because Orra becomes consumed by superstitious fear, it doesn't follow that Orra is necessarily superstitious. If she hadn't been primed by Cathrina's ghost stories she wouldn't have been so completely consumed by fear. To put this idea into perspective, let's take a hypothetical person, Annabelle. Annabelle doesn't believe in evil satanic dolls but over the weekend Annabelle saw a movie about evil satanic dolls that really impressed her. Let's say that as a prank Annabelle's mischievous friends put several creepy vintage dolls in her room as she sleeps, and then Annabelle wakes up around midnight and finds herself surrounded by creepy dolls. You wouldn't say that Annabelle believes in satanic dolls, but you would understand her unfathomable terror upon waking up. Now perhaps Annabelle would be terrified of finding random dolls in her room even if she hadn't seen that horror movie, but being primed with that horror movie would definitely increase the horror exponentially.

Pictured: Creepy Satanic Doll
To conclude, I want to briefly discuss what exactly it is about the story of the Count of Hugo that impresses Orra so much. Of course anybody would be a little uneasy around the idea of a murderous ghost that is out to kill you, but there is something about this tale that really resonated with Orra. In the above Annabelle example, I don't think that creepy dolls would send Annabelle over the edge of sanity. There is something going on with Orra, deep in her subconscious. I suspect that it might have something to do with her uneasiness about the Patriarchy, and her fears about being dominated by a husband. Orra doesn't make it a secret that she is uncomfortable around the idea of marriage and losing control of her land and positions. It's interesting that the ghost story that drives her crazy is the traditional, cliche Gothic trope of the sins of the father coming back to destroy his descendants. It's also interesting since the usual victims for this specific type of vengeful spirit are usually powerful, aristocratic men, and yet in this case Orra feels like she is the victim of this angry spirit.

Pictured: "Angry Spirits"


Discussion Questions:

What is Orra really afraid of? Is it really just the ghost of the Hunter-Knight? Or is it something deeper? What is her real nightmare?

Other than the "Sins of the Father" trope, what other classic Gothic story telling devices does Baillie employ in her play, and how do they add to the evolution of fear in Orra? 




Baillie Defying Double-Standards as Dramatist


Joanna Baillie entered into the era of Romanticism as a female writer confronting the double-standards of gender. She entered the realm of the literary world when she was first introduced to a wide range of education at Glasgow. Baillie knew the repercussions and large amount of criticism that she would face being a female author and dramatist in a male dominated literary world. When Baillie began to write tragedies and her "Plays on the Passions," she chose to publish anonymously. 

Baillie revealed in many letters that she did not handle the gender criticism well. (Read more about her letters, here) Her desire to prove that gender did not matter for the success of playwrights or literature was proven with her "Plays of the Passions."  When Voltaire was asked why no woman has ever written even a tolerable tragedy, "Ah (said the Patriarch) the composition of a tragedy requires testicles.' If this be true, Lord knows what Joanna Baillie does-- I  suppose she borrows them." This was just one of the many critics that Joanna had to read and hear criticism from. The criticism that she faced could be used to justify Baillie's motive for placing such a strong emphasis on critiquing the gender norms in the plays that she wrote. 

Instead of staying within the traditional sphere of "domesticated" writing, Baillie enters the masculine world of tragedy and drama. Baillie, instead of writing in a masculine way, writes in response and critiques the gender roles and the patriarchal structures in place. Baillie takes the traditional tragedy and adds her gothic touch by creating female characters that reflect the different passions such as fear. In her play, Orra, Baillie uses the passion fear to attempt to critique the theory that woman are the only ones that can experience fear and be consumed by fear. She uses this play to show otherwise.

In Orra, Baillie chooses to have a female protagonist consumed with her struggle of overcoming her fear and other passions that are fighting to consumer her. Following the Gothic tradition, Baillie uses a female protagonist to exemplify how woman are the main characters in Gothic literature to be seen in conflict with the power dynamics and in constant danger of "disrupting" the patriarchal system that is in place. By creating Orra, Baillie has used her character to be directly at odds with what a "traditional" Gothic story should follow. Orra becomes consumed with her fascination of the supernatural elements within the play. This obsession becomes her "tragic flaw" which eventually leads to the destructionof her character. In the introduction to Joanna Baillie's "Six Gothic Novels," Christine A. Colon states that, "rather than using these [Gothic] stories to learn to check her excessive passions, Orra uses them to inflame her passions, delighting in the physical sensations of fear that sourse through her body with every exciting ghost story" (xxvii).

Baillie goes further through discovering the underlying truths of the purpose of Orra's character. Baille uses Orra to show the disempowerment of woman and how little control they have over their own lives. Orra may be responsible for being consumed by the ghost stories, and for her inability to resist the temptations of giving into fear. However, it is the men in her life they should be held accountable for locking her away in a castle that is overflowing with the supernatural. Orra is used to represent a woman that is put back in her "domestic and submissive" place in society when she makes it evident that she does not want to marry. Her goal in life is to remain single, and to remain in full control over her assets. She falls victim to Hughobert, Glottenbal, and Theobald when she is forced to remain in confinement of the haunted castle for her refusal of marriage. Eventaully, she is forced to play the typical "damsel in distress" in order to be rescued by Theobald. Baillie uses this as a critique to show that woman are constantly made the victim of men. She is revealing the truth behind the desires of men. Men put woman in danger by not being able to control their own sexual desires. Orra is placed in danger because of masculine desire. Orra is forced into mentally breaking down and self-destructing because all of her outlets include a man. 

Discussion Questions:

1) How does Joanna Baillie version of the Gothic compare to the Radcliffe's version of the Gothic? Compare and contrast the female characters in Radcliffe and Baille's works?

2) If Gothic works are said to be "feminine" or "masculine," which would you categorize Baillie's work under? Why? What makes it this?




























Wednesday, November 5, 2014

The Passions Revealed in Baillie's Drama

With a solid background knowledge of Baillie's dramatic intentions in "Introductory Discourse," we begin to see the passions manifest themselves throughout De Monfort. She declares, with zeal, "let one simple trait of the human heart, one expression of passion genuine and true to nature, be introduced, and it will stand forth alone in the boldness of reality, whilst the false and unnatural around it, fades away upon every side," (Introductory Discourse, 80). As readers, we start to wonder at and infer her true intentions behind writing the Plays on the Passions. Again she hints at her purpose when she says "the last play, the subject of which is hatred, will more clearly discover the nature and intention of my design... hatred is a passion of slow growth... that rooted and settled aversion, which... grows at last into such antipathy and personal disgust," (107-108).

Here, Baillie has laid out the design of her drama in the simplest terms understandable to the reader. Her hope is to portray the slow progression of hatred/rage in such a way that the audience can sympathize with. Here she illustrates her well-drawn map of human understanding in regards to the passions. She makes it very clear that the superstitious mind, and the frivolous workings of the social realm in regards to refinement and a suppression of the passions, are useless when it comes to human understanding and sympathy. She believes that only an honest depiction of the slow progression of the passions, in this case anger and jealousy, can properly portray human understanding.

Taking a closer look at the drama, we see De Monfort's hatred slowly manifest itself into psychosis. In his first soliloquy, act I scene II, he declares the workings of his own mind by projecting these feared qualities onto his enemy, Rezenvelt; "the venom of thy mind is rank and devilish/and thin the film that hides it," (17). This is the first we see of the inner workings of De Monfort's mind, and up to this point we have only witnessed superficial exchanges between the two characters, something Baillie would consider irrelevant to the passions. She introduces this discourse as the groundwork for the rest of her drama; where she begins with a dialogue that hints at the passions only on the surface, she ends with a portrayal of the passions at their height.

The final progression of hatred is shown at first in act IV scene II, when De Monfort, still sane, wonders "what am I grown? all things are hateful to me," (48). His final, irreversible state of completely consumed hatred is mentioned by Thomas at the monastery; "such a look, such wildness of despair, /such horror-strained features, never yet /did earthly visage show. I shrank and shudder'd. /if a damn'd spirit may to earth return, /I've seen it," (61). At this point, De Monfort has already committed the most hateful act of murder, and has lost all touch with reality or rationality. The slow progression of his hatred is made clear, and the audience can still easily sympathize with him.

There are countless examples and subtle cues that enlighten us, the readers, into the cold world of the darker passions. We know De Monfort to be considered a good man by the treatment from those around him; Jane, portrayed as a great lady, does not hesitate to forgive him, and our sympathy as readers allows us to forgive him for this heinous crime just as easily. We can see, in the conflict between Rezenvelt and himself, that De Monfort was merely a victim of the workings of his own mind, and nothing more. The only true conflict the two have ever held is rooted in the uncontrollable acquisition of wealth in Rezenvelt's early years. De Monfort's security in his esteem and his status is challenged the moment Rezenvelt acquires an equal wealth and status. I imagine he wonders, 'how can wealth and such a social refinement befall someone who possesses anything but these qualities?' In turn, De Monfort becomes consumed with jealousy and rage at Rezenvelt's successful use of wealth, and most of all his happiness. For why De Monfort cannot achieve the same level of comfort in his own estate, he cannot fathom.

These two characters are not the only ones in the play that embody a dramatic flaw of the passions. Countess Freberg is envious and jealous of lady Jane De Monfort for, again, insecure reasons, and because of this she creates the catalyst that eventually leads to Rezenvelt's death. Even the minor character Conrad, who has something to gain, is capable of those poisonous passions other writers have so often blamed on the supernatural/sublime.



**Two days ago, this play was performed in a staged reading at NYC's Red Bull Theater in a series called "Revalations Readings." The goal of this project is to bring alive those classic dramas our contemporary society has pushed to the back of the shelves. Such a psychologically based drama might excite modern audiences differently than those in Baillie's time. To read more about this play and its production, visit Broadway World. 

Discussion Questions

Aside from the above examples, in what ways do we see the subtle progression of De Monfort's rage reach a dangerous point? Why can/do we sympathize with him in these instances?

What other passions do each of the characters represent, and how are they manifested throughout the drama?

When are moments of superficial exchanged implemented, and how are they effective? Are these significant to our overall understanding of the piece?