Fatalism and Hope

It’s a common enough plot arc in Gothic literature: the protagonist, peacefulclear of conscience at the outset of the tale, commits a fatal error which leads to utter ruin. The reader is given to understand that this outcome is positively inevitable, akin to the fulfillment of prophecy in Oedipus Rex.

This fatalist atmosphere builds the image of human depravity, suggesting that even the kindest and most peaceful person teeters on the brink of doom and destruction and requires only the smallest push to send him over. In “The Black Cat,” the narrator suggests that everything was going swimmingly until he began drinking. “Roger Malvin’s Burial” paints the protagonist as an essentially honest man who, wounded and exhausted, neglects his duty and lies about it. In both cases, they do not suspect that these actions will serve as curses, beginning series of events that lead one to the gallows and the other to filicide (no, it's a real word, see?).

Until they perform that first action, however, we see another “natural state,” unsophisticated innocence. Reuben wrestles with his conscience in a charming and unselfconscious display of goodwill, while the narrator of “The Black Cat” enjoyed Pluto’s company for many years (if we trust his narrative). Moreover, Gothic fascination with the grotesque leads the authors to contrast the increasingly twisted main characters with secondary characters made of goodness and light. Dorcas is so unacquainted with dishonesty that it never even occurs to her to think the worst, neither doubting her husband’s honesty nor worrying at the ominous silence after the gunshot. Her husband cannot keep from depravity; Dorcas cannot help but be good.