Northanger Abbey
Northanger Abbey is based on a contrast between two different worlds, the “real” word and the Gothic world. (I use q. marks on “real” because, of course, every thing in the novel is fictional.) Catherine lives in the “real” world. She grows up in a fairly wealthy family in a fairly boring town, Fullerton. The romantic plot begins in the “real” fashionable town of Bath, where she meets the Tinleys and the Thorns. She and Henry fall in love, etc.
The Gothic world, on the hand, is conjured by popular novelists and poets and playwrights in the second half of the 18th century. Life in the Gothic world is much more colorful and exciting and dangerous. The Gothic world is full of beautiful and innocent heroines, fearless and noble heroes, sadistic and murderous villains, horrible ghosts and skeletons, and dark, ruined castles.
Throughout the novel, Austen frequently nudges readers to understand the difference between those two worlds. Catherine, the well-meaning but immature heroine, helps us to draw distinctions. She does so every time she projects Gothic characters, plots, settings, or themes onto her “real” world. Just as important, though, Catherine does have moments of clarity in which her own good sense and good manners direct her to what is “really” going on.
For your post, present a short quotation (a sentence or two) and explain how the words and phrases suggest the difference between the “real” world and the Gothic world. Before you begin this work, though, please read the page on Posting.
Wuthering Heights
What are the words used to describe Heathcliff? What metaphors or symbols or other figures are applied to him? What words do other characters use to depict him physically or morally or emotionally? How do they distinguish between themselves and him?
Just to get the ball rolling, consider the way that Mr. Earnshaw introduces Heathcliff to his wife. He first tells her that she must “take it as a gift of God” (31). Interesting that he refers to Heathcliff as “it,” a word which seems to dehumanize the little boy. But then he associates him with a “gift of God,” which, in a deeply Christian culture, suggests great benefit for those who receive the “gift.” Mr. Earnshaw then takes a radical turn, saying that the child is “as dark almost as it came from the devil” (31). I am especially interested in the word “dark” because it is a Gothic-ish word. In the context of this novel, it is generally a negative word. Applied to Heathcliff, it tends to “other” him, morally and racially. The Oxford English Dictionary helps us to unpack the meanings that do so. To be “dark” suggests a “a person or ethnic group” that have “brown or black skin.” This, of course, applies to Heathcliff. Many characters note the “darkness” of his skin, almost allows as an insult. To be “dark” also suggests “[l]acking moral or spiritual goodness; evil, wicked; iniquitous; hateful.” It is crucial to note that the word “dark” does the work of racial otherness and evil all at the same time and the suggestion is that the two are intertwined. And we can also see a third definition that applies to Heathcliff. Dark also applies to character; a “dark” person is “gloomy, sad; sullen” (OED).
For your post, find two separate interesting words, one from the first half from the novel and another from the second half. Discuss what they mean and what they suggest. If you can find words that are Gothic-y, all the better.
Mudlarking (extra credit)
What is it like to be a mudlark for an hour? What did you find? How do you think the experience would have been different in 1850?
The brief Wikipedia article on mudlarks is worth checking out.
Old London
We have looked at ruins of the past. “London Wall,” sometimes called the “Roman Wall,” is almost 2000 years old. All we see now are fragments. St. Dunstan’s in the East, a church first built around 1100, is similarly a relic. The Temple Church, also first built in the 12th century, has weathered much better.
What was the purpose of these structures when they were originally constructed? What did they symbolize in the past? What do they symbolize now? Why does London preserve the relics rather than destroy them and build more modern buildings?
“Goblin Market”
“Goblin Market” was originally intended for children, but many readers discover abundant evidence of “adult” meanings. In general, the Gothic often functions to bring otherwise shameful, taboo, or anti-social impulses into the light. Monsters are frequently terrifying, ugly, etc., but they are also tempting.
What sort of energies or impulses do the “Goblin men” release into the world? Discuss a short passage of a couple lines to support your claims.
Haworth
What aspect of the location — the village of Haworth, the Brontë parsonage, the moors — helps you better understand Wuthering Heights? Discuss a specific image or object that captures some aspect of Brontë’s world.
Is anyone else struck by the proximity of the grave stones to the house?
Strawberry Hill
We can be relatively sure that Catherine, the heroine of Northanger Abbey, would not have approved of the name of Hugh Walpole’s estate. Strawberry Hill? Are you kidding me? Could not the owner have devised a more amazingly horrible name for a Gothic castle?
But what do you think that Catherine would have thought of the structure itself? What details might she have liked? Which might have disappointed her? Discuss at least one or two specific aspects of the structure, its contents, its landscape, etc.
I love this strange image in stained glass. Check out this gigantic old fellow standing in a bleak landscape, holding a steaming cauldron with both hands, wearing a vast furry cloak and misshapen hat. His glasses suggest knowledge, perhaps the unhealthy knowledge of a wizard. To me, this mystical figure fits perfectly into a Gothic context.
Horace Walpole started the craze for Gothic literature with the publication of The Castle of Otranto in 1764. Read the first chapter to get a taste of the style:
The Castle of Otranto: A Gothic Tale
CHAPTER I.
Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, the son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda. Manfred had contracted a marriage for his son with the Marquis of Vicenza’s daughter, Isabella; and she had already been delivered by her guardians into the hands of Manfred, that he might celebrate the wedding as soon as Conrad’s infirm state of health would permit.
Manfred’s impatience for this ceremonial was remarked by his family and neighbours. The former, indeed, apprehending the severity of their Prince’s disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises on this precipitation. Hippolita, his wife, an amiable lady, did sometimes venture to represent the danger of marrying their only son so early, considering his great youth, and greater infirmities; but she never received any other answer than reflections on her own sterility, who had given him but one heir. His tenants and subjects were less cautious in their discourses. They attributed this hasty wedding to the Prince’s dread of seeing accomplished an ancient prophecy, which was said to have pronounced that the castle and lordship of Otranto “should pass from the present family, whenever the real owner should be grown too large to inhabit it.” It was difficult to make any sense of this prophecy; and still less easy to conceive what it had to do with the marriage in question. Yet these mysteries, or contradictions, did not make the populace adhere the less to their opinion.
Young Conrad’s birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company was assembled in the chapel of the Castle, and everything ready for beginning the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. Manfred, impatient of the least delay, and who had not observed his son retire, despatched one of his attendants to summon the young Prince. The servant, who had not stayed long enough to have crossed the court to Conrad’s apartment, came running back breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at the mouth. He said nothing, but pointed to the court.
The company were struck with terror and amazement. The Princess Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, asked imperiously what was the matter? The fellow made no answer, but continued pointing towards the courtyard; and at last, after repeated questions put to him, cried out, “Oh! the helmet! the helmet!”
In the meantime, some of the company had run into the court, from whence was heard a confused noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. Manfred, who began to be alarmed at not seeing his son, went himself to get information of what occasioned this strange confusion. Matilda remained endeavouring to assist her mother, and Isabella stayed for the same purpose, and to avoid showing any impatience for the bridegroom, for whom, in truth, she had conceived little affection.
The first thing that struck Manfred’s eyes was a group of his servants endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him a mountain of sable plumes. He gazed without believing his sight. “What are ye doing?” cried Manfred, wrathfully; “where is my son?” A volley of voices replied, “Oh! my Lord! the Prince! the Prince! the helmet! the helmet!”
Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not what, he advanced hastily,—but what a sight for a father’s eyes!—he beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous helmet, an hundred times more large than any casque ever made for human being, and shaded with a proportionable quantity of black feathers.
The horror of the spectacle, the ignorance of all around how this misfortune had happened, and above all, the tremendous phenomenon before him, took away the Prince’s speech. Yet his silence lasted longer than even grief could occasion. He fixed his eyes on what he wished in vain to believe a vision; and seemed less attentive to his loss, than buried in meditation on the stupendous object that had occasioned it. He touched, he examined the fatal casque; nor could even the bleeding mangled remains of the young Prince divert the eyes of Manfred from the portent before him.
All who had known his partial fondness for young Conrad, were as much surprised at their Prince’s insensibility, as thunderstruck themselves at the miracle of the helmet. They conveyed the disfigured corpse into the hall, without receiving the least direction from Manfred. As little was he attentive to the ladies who remained in the chapel. On the contrary, without mentioning the unhappy princesses, his wife and daughter, the first sounds that dropped from Manfred’s lips were, “Take care of the Lady Isabella.”
Pictures of Strawberry Hill:
Dracula
It’s hard to beat Bella Lugosi’s Dracula from the 1831 film. The images from that adaptation certainly capture some of the sexual energy and anxiety that Stoker develops throughout the text, sometimes in passages so explicit that it seems impossible Victorian readers would not have understood the symbolic connections between different varieties of penetration.
The novel leads us to fear (and sometimes enjoy?) the penetration of characters by the fangs of the dreaded foreign monster. And then there is the counter penetration (by needles and stakes) of British women by the British men who, supposedly, love and defend them. Below the surface, it is hard NOT to see that these acts of penetration suggest various weird forms of eroticized mastery.
In your post, focus on one particular “penetration” scene and read the language very carefully, picking out short quotations that tell us something important about this novel. You might focus on a literal penetration by fang or stake or needle, but you might think of the broader sense of the word, of intrusion, invasion, trespass, etc.
Phantom of the Opera
Check out the interesting similarity between the image at left with the classic still from the 1931 film version of Dracula. What is it about the body language in these images?
In the title song, which accompanies the first appearance of the Phantom on stage, he emphasizes his increasing control over Christine: “Sing once again with me our strange duet / My power over you grows stronger yet / And though you turn from me to glance behind / The Phantom of the Opera is there / Inside your mind.” Creepy, right? Also maybe empowering? What’s going on in lines like these?
Discuss how aspects of the musical (text of songs, images, music, lightings, etc.) develops one specific Gothic trope or theme. As always, individual works might challenge or change a particular tradition. Support your claims with detailed description and quotation.
This site seems to include lyrics for all of the songs. Scroll down until you see a list of titles of songs.