Showing posts with label Nathaniel Hawthorne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nathaniel Hawthorne. Show all posts

Friday, March 5, 2010

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.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

And the Truth Is, You Can't Escape the Truth

In "The Masque of Red Death" a wealthy crowd has held themselves up in a castle as a mysterious plague ravages the rest of the country. Eventually though "The Red Death" catches up to them, because being human they cannot excape what is reality. And death is reality. If we want to examine this tale from the standpoint of human innocence vs. irrepressible depravity, we can see the quest for innocence in the way the people hide from the Red Death in a castle. While a sickness (and for our purpose of demonstrating the depravity of humans, a sickness of the mind) is consuming everyone in the land, the nobles are trying to flee it. So here we have the best of the best in the country, not just any joe blow, trying to escape this disease. To distract themselves, the protagonist hosts a party within the walls of the castle. It is not just any party however, it is a masquerade. If we want to be extremely literal we could say that the party is a maquerade because subconciously the people know they are trying to escape the depravity that they know is a part of human nature. The masks allow inner demons to come out while protecting the identity and therefore the faked innocence of the person. Ultimately however, it is allegorically proven that as the people at the party cannot escape death, so cannot any human escape their base nature. For at the end of the party, a figured dressed as the Red Death appears at the party. Where he came from is not revealed but despite their efforts, he is there. When the host, Prince Prospero, attempts to confront the figure he is immediately stricken down. After, all of the other guests at the party contract the Red Death and die shortly thereafter. So we see, despite their best efforts, reality caught up with everyone, even the nobles. In the story the reality is death, but allegorically speaking it is depravity. The moral we can conclude is despite the efforts of the most "noble" humans, what is human nature is reality, and what is reality cannot be escaped.

With "The Birthmark" the moral is about the same, but approached from a slightly different direction. Here we have a model of human perfection, or as close as the protagonist thinks there can be, in Alymer's wife, Georgiana. Except for one thing. The only thing that mars his bride is a birthmark on her cheek. Other men in the past had found it endearing or attractive even, but her husband is utterly horrified by it. It eats at him (guilt, anyone?) until finally he suggests removing it, and upon seeing how disturbed her husband is by her birthmark, Georgiana finally agrees. There is a catch however, upon trying to remove the blemish, he discovers that it is so much a part of her it goes all the way to her heart and total removal of it also means the death of her. So obsessed with human perfection (which we see is impossible) he kills his wife trying to do away with a single flaw. Given the view of Puritanism at the time it was written, one could realize that this single flaw only begins to eat away at Alymer after they marry is because of the act of consumating the marriage. The blemish is a symbol for sex, which is a depraved act of man. And try as hard as one might (he kills his wife for goodness sake) one cannot escape the base act, because it is part of human nature, much like the blemish is such a part of Georgiana that its removal means her death.
And so you have the truth, the reality of human nature that cannot be fled, humans are depraved creatures despite anything they may do to be otherwise. Sweet Dreams.