While the content of Gothic novel can be seen as a reflection of the discrepant sentiments women hold against the idealized domestic ideologies, the act of novel reading can also be seen as an ostensibly submissive and actually elusive strategy against the domestication of women. Since motherhood and household affairs have become a full-time occupation for the eighteenth century’s women, they have no other way but submit themselves to the confinement of the house. Reading, however, is adopted as their temporary escape. They would take up a volume, throwing
themselves into the realm of a novel, and forgetting nearly everything around them inside the house. During the process of reading, chances are that they would confront the disapproval of a father, or be frowned upon by a brother; hence procedures are employed to avoid the prying eyes: reading a copy in the seclusion from the world, perhaps under the disguise of a false cover. In this light, the novel becomes Bleeding
Nun’s veil in its double meanings of repression and expression. At the first glance, the act of reading seems to fit in with the expected feminine behaviors. Women at that time were repressed and restrained at home, and could only choose recreations that were regarded as quiet, inconspicuous and cultured. Gothic novels served as a tool of concealment that enabled them to engage in their own recreation under the mask of a submissive daughter or wife, diligently holding up a volume and quietly staying at home. But once this disguise is unveiled, the violence, sexual violation, blood and gore would soon present themselves to their guardians’ startled eyes. The grotesque depictions in the Gothic novels were offensive to the “intact” virginal female body that should have been veiled/covered under the protection of the male guardians, as in the sense of feme covert in the doctrine of coverture. Yet underneath this protective disguise, there are possibilities to alter, contort and subvert the discourse of normality and the regulation of the “perfect” female body.
Seemingly conforming to the expected feminine virtues, novel reading
strategically blur the boundary between the working time and recreation time inside the house. It is understandable why women’s rapid consumption of novels became worrisome and aroused criticism. This recreation went against the social expectations that women should contribute all of their time to the family, and in their indulgence in the novels, they might neglect other “natural” duties. Such regulation of course aroused rebellion, especially from those middle-class women, who enjoyed growing leisure due to their wealth and the increasing number of servants at home, and were educated enough to reconsider their roles in the society. Exempt from physical labors,
they often “[sat] in the newly conceptualised home with nothing to do” (Allen 11), constrained by social expectations to be a qualified wife and full-time mother.
Critics apprehend that novels no longer limit themselves as an amusing pastime, but become an “all-absorbing vocation” (Clery 97), enticing their readers into
intemperate self-abandonment. Thus without proper regulation, it was believed, these readers would be led into disorder and perplexity. The promiscuity of books, Clery further argues, in part represents the confounding of female bodies who internalized them. The transient possession of a library book, for one thing, symbolized the swift circulation of consumption in a consumerist society in the formation, and the
“confounding female bodies” reflect the addiction to its consuming objects.
However, behind the motivation to “correct” these “confounding” bodies is the attempt to domesticate these female bodies through the restraint on reading choices, habits, and the time spent on them. While the women’s reading habit is criticized for being restless, superficial and surreptitious, what lies behind is actually the anxiety toward these indulgent and pleasurable moments novels bring to women, which loosen the grip of social regulations of female time.
Such “confounding” or “internalization,” however, also indicates a state of divided attention and fluid mental mobility in the process of reading. While immersed in the plot of a story, the readers are experiencing two sets of worlds at the same moment. Here, I would like to demonstrate this effect through a passage of Udolpho in which the servant Ludovico immerses himself in The Provencal Tale, a
supernatural story borrowed from the Count’s housekeeper Dorothee while keeping
vigil over the haunted chamber in Chateau-le-Blanc:29
“…while he shivered in the blast, and looked on the dark and desolate scene around him, he thought of the comforts of his warm chamber, rendered cheerful by the blaze of wood, and felt, for a moment, the full contrast of his present situation.”
[Here Ludovico paused a moment, and, looking at his own fire, gave it a brightening stir.]30 (562)
Two kinds of storylines intertwine, respond to, and also interrupt, each other in this passage. The Provencal Tale’s mysterious aura parallels with the atmosphere in the haunted chamber, and reading these lines, Ludovico must have connected the
“desolate scene” in the novel with his own lonely vigil in this chamber. As a reaction to this connection, he recalls “his own fire,” which is almost extinguished, and “gave it a brightening stir.” The nearly expiring fire on the hearth also shows that his whole attention has been engaged by the book before him, and he forgets everything around him.
Another example of absorption takes place when Ludovico continues to read:
“…As he gazed, he perceived the countenance of the Knight change, and begin to fade, till his whole form gradually vanished from his astonished sense! While the Baron stood, fixed to the spot, a voice was heard to utter these words:—”
29 I am aware that Ludovico is not a female reader. However, being a domestic servant, Ludovico’s experience represents a typical situation a woman would have faced when she divides her attention between a novel and her housework at hand. I believe this passage gives a detailed and vivid
description to the reactions she would have during reading. It is the reading habit instead of the exact gender difference that I would like to lay my emphasis on the domestic aspect.
30 The baskets are originally given by the author.
[Ludovico started, and laid down the book, for he thought he heard a voice in the chamber... He listened, scarcely daring to draw his breath, but heard only the distant roaring of the sea in the storm… concluding, that he had been deceived by its sighings, he took up his book to finish the story.]
“While the Baron stood, fixed to the spot, a voice was heard to utter these words:—.” (563)
Immersed in the storyline, Ludovico internalizes the protagonist Baron’s
experiences and fancies hearing the phantom voice. The narrative employs quotation marks and brackets to indicate the switches between two realities as Ludovico’s shifts his attention every now and then, his mind never entirely dwelling on either. As an evidence for his straying thoughts, the line “While the Baron stood, fixed to the spot, a voice was heard to utter these words” is deliberately repeated twice, suggesting Ludovico’s attempt to pick up the lines after distraction. This repetition indicates a loss of time, an overlapping of realities while reading, and the temporary confusion in the process thereof. In this brief hesitation, I believe, lies a moment of freedom that becomes the main source of pleasure in novel reading. The pleasure is derived from the temporary riddance of duties and the freedom to jump between different contexts in this multi-tasking. During that time, Ludovico’s time is fluid and flexible, stoppable at anytime. Granted the length of a novel, the readers must have gone through the fragmental experience of suspending their reading when their duties call them away from current plot narratives. They are always ready to put down their books for a while to deal with other pressing matters at hand, like Ludovico’s stirring of the fire.
Absorption in novels’ make-believe reality is enjoyable. Besides Ludovico, this intermediated state of mind is also shared by many other female readers, housewives or maids alike, who steal their piecemeal time between household responsibilities and sneak into the realm of novels, a convenient way to escape from the daily routine or duties on hand for a moment. This distraction grants a moment of break for women from the unceasing operation of labor, and moreover, it enables them to experience the fluid mobility of time in a juxtaposed reality during reading, and reconsider the domestic ideology of an ideal house in which they were placed at the center without a choice otherwise.
Through reading the escape episodes of the Gothic heroines, the readers are experiencing their own escapes at the same moment. The novels not only remove them from the current space and time, but also lead them away from the social
expectations of being a mother or a wife inside the house. The escape, nevertheless, is but too transient. Like the Gothic heroines who would always return to the castle and unite with the heroes in matrimony, the readers would soon have to resume their housework or familial duties after indulging a moment of pleasure in the book. This temporary moment of pleasure, however, allows us to reconsider the construction of an ideal home and a perfect woman, to redefine the criteria of literary tastes and the disposal of leisure time. In the end, novel reading turns out to be not merely a pass time recreation that allows the readers to escape from their duties. It is a strategic response to the expected feminine virtues in the eighteenth century. It is also a dutiful reflection of the collective female experiences of apprehension, avoidance and
concealment under social expectations, domestic regulations, and other possible persecutions.
At the end of this chapter, perhaps it is best to mention again Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey, who represent one of the most positive readers of the Gothic novel. Catherine is portrayed not merely as a passive reader; she is capable of
experiencing, sympathizing, understanding and gaining knowledge from the lessons of Gothic novels as well as from her life. After a short escape into the imaginary world of fictions, she eventually returns to the real life with strength and wisdom. It is possible to say that in her Bildungsroman, she has become the ideal audience
Radcliffe would have had in mind.
The development and transformation we and Catherine undergo with Emily is therefore symbolic of the eighteenth-century’s process to encode, through literary debates and negative criticisms of Gothic novels, the ideal readers. Departing from the deviant consumers of superstitious and sentimental romances, these readers are
expected to become an enlightened subject who are competent of temperance and rationality, and most of all, to become the “ideal recipient[s] of a new kind of literary communication” who are “worthy of, sensitive and attentive to, the virtuous lessons which literature in its most respectable forms is deemed capable of imparting”
(Botting and Townshend 4). This transformation, however, is not a lineal progression terminated by the arrival at the further end. Rather, it is like the process of escape of the Gothic heroine, often rife with frustration and stagnation, but always ready to embark after repowering.
Conclusion
At the first sight, the word “escape” carries a negative overtone, as it suggests a tendency to abandon one’s duties and evade responsibilities. Yet in the Gothic novels, the act of escape is positive and even courageous since it helps to remove the heroines away from the threats of Gothic villains. The decisive factor whether escape is
positive or negative, we may conjure, lies in the objects one is trying to escape from.
The Gothic heroines’ escapes are justified in consideration of the injustice of their affliction, whereas the reading of Gothic novels is criticized because the readers neglect their own domestic duties or household chores. Such criticism is liable for inquiry, since it is founded upon an established assumption of what a woman should perform unconditionally and unquestionably. Moreover, to see the act of escape as purely inaction or inability towards the present situation is to neglect the anxiety, discontent or even potential resistance lurking behind the escape. Therefore, in order to answer the central problematic of my thesis, that whether escape is positive or negative, I will probe into the discrepancy between the two opposing definitions of escape, and the roles of women at the end of the eighteenth century.
In the introduction, I have marked that Radcliffe’s feeling of “shame” to be an author might be derived from the social tension against a woman who engaged in the career of Gothic novels writing. Radcliffe’s scruple was understandable in a time when merely the act of novel reading was frowned upon, let along that of writing.
Living by the pen, for Radcliffe, was strategic. She endeavoured to shun social attention by creating a façade of ladylikeness that lifted her above criticism. Reading,
at the same time, was also an experience of privacy or secrecy in an attempt to avoid attention. Whether its form or content, Gothic novels became a tool to channel the sense of fear, the relief of escape, and the courage when faced with danger—
collective memories shared by women at that time.
The first chapter of my thesis analyzes the narrative techniques of Udolpho.
Radcliffe’s tendency to break away from tension serves to create a cushioning period for the readers as well as the characters to catch their breath for the following climax.
Her narrative is rendered fragmentary with the frequent swoons of her characters, and moreover, the circuitous plot, the depictions of travel, fancy and reading all serve to remove the readers from the current confrontation. Given sufficient time to recover, the terror would be turned into delight which “expands the soul and awakens the faculties to a high degree of life” (Radcliffe “On the Supernatural”, 145). The repetitive process of escapes and returns becomes a movement towards and away from the male-dominant world, as Fred Botting points out, and beyond the structures of paternal power. In this “zone of indiscernibility,” femininity may obtain a moment of her own and encounter endless possibilities to step out of the existent rigidity of female roles under the patriarchal society.
The second chapter focuses on episodes of escape in Udolpho, The Monk and Italian to explore the problems the heroines may encounter in their respective escapes.
Unlike the Lewisian heroines in The Monk, Radcliffe’s heroines enjoy greater
mobility and autonomy, and they also share a female bonding, one of the most crucial elements during escape when the male rescuers fall short of expectation. As a result, a
successful escape demonstrates the female subject’s courage and resourcefulness in times of crisis.
During the escape, the heroine’s spaces no longer fall into the clear-cut
inside/safety and outside/danger formula. Safety and danger infiltrate each other and blend together into the “zone of indiscernibility” in which the female subject finds a temporary liberation through employments of concealment or costume changing. The escape passage of Agnes, for example, shows how the angelic countenance of Agnes turns into a horrific face of the Bleeding Nun, and then later the wretched, emaciated face that can hardly be seen as a woman. The distorted faces are unfortunate products under oppression of the patriarchal society; yet it is also a face that escapes male gazes, for it is too hideous to be looked upon. By this almost “mischievous” face-off performance, the female subject stuns the male enquiring eye and barters for a temporary escape/escapade.
Similar techniques of escapes are also employed when it comes to the reading of Gothic novels, a point I focus upon in my third chapter. Altering the covers of the novels they are reading, and concealing themselves in a dark, inconspicuous corner, Gothic readers also endeavour to escape from the prying eyes and avoid attention. The experience of escape is echoed through the process of reading, and grants the readers a sense of pleasure. As a result, novel reading at that time was often criticized because it reflected the escapist tendency in reading books which were expensive and
seemingly worthless for the cultivation of good tastes and practical skills. Moreover, the indulgence in reading may often lead to neglect of the household chores.
Nevertheless, we cannot disregard the motivation behind such a widespread social phenomenon. In their depictions of fallen houses, missing mothers and dictatorial fathers, Gothic novels become an instrument to connect the collective experiences shared by the eighteenth-century women. They were under social expectations to become qualified housewives and full-time mothers, whereas the legal system and matrimonial constitutions did not protect them against violence and dangers coming from the inside of the house.
In this regard, Gothic novels are not limited as an escapist tool to flight away from reality, they also serves as dutiful reflections that undermine the idealized image of the “home” in this era. To escape, on the other hand, represents an elusive strategy that gives voice to the doubts and discontent towards the status quo. Escape is not as submissive, passive or regressive as people commonly believe. From Radcliffe’s social seclusion, her fragmentary and circuitous narratives, Gothic heroines’ nightly adventures to the readership of Gothic novels, “escape” conveys a variety of different meanings for the authors, for the characters and for the readers. At the heart of these various escapes lies the attempt to explore and negotiate female identities within the family and the society that systematically marginalize women. Even today, when the fashions of entertainment has greatly evolved in a full-blown consumerist society, and the influences of Gothic novels can been found in all kinds of books, TV programs, movies, games, or animations, the Gothic remains a genre consistently written and read by women. These pieces of works continue to challenge existent social structures, channeling women’s anxiety with depictions of thrill and horror.
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