Read an Excerpt
Haunted Presence
The Numinous in Gothic Fiction
By S. L. Varnado The University of Alabama Press
Copyright © 1987 the University of Alabama Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8173-8967-3
CHAPTER 1
The Literature of the Supernatural
In this book I attempt to analyze and interpret the literature of the supernatural by means of certain insights derived from what today is generally referred to as the "philosophy of religious experience." Such an approach is not unknown in present-day literary studies. My task here is unique, however, in that I make use of the ideas of a particular theologian, Rudolf Otto, whose profound description of the numinous, set forth in his Idea of the Holy, illuminates what I take to be the very essence of the supernatural tale. I shall argue that Otto's account of the mysterium tremendum et fascinans, with its associated categories of the sacred and the profane, defines the purpose and the aesthetic value of such literature.
Although Otto's work has received wide recognition in modern scholarly circles, the term he coined to express the supernatural element in experience — the numinous — has passed into general use in a highly amorphous form. Nowadays, it is used to describe anything from a ghost to a movie idol to a computer. In my view, this situation is unfortunate. Otto's analysis of religious experience is quite specific and, in my estimation, profound; it deserves better than it has received. In fact, one of my subsidiary purposes in this book is to correct misinterpretations of Otto's work and thus rescue it from the vagaries of media language. My primary interest, however, lies in the literature of the supernatural. My study encompasses the Gothic novel of the eighteenth century in addition to representative ghostly tales of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Until recent times, the supernatural tale has received little serious attention from literary critics. G. R. Thompson gives what must certainly be the correct explanation of this neglect: "Until the 1950's, the prevailing critical view of Gothic literature was essentially that of the later nineteenth-century moralists: namely that the Gothic lacked 'high seriousness.'" Despite its antiquity, wide geographical distribution, and continuing popularity, the ghostly tale has often been looked upon as a literary curiosity, half-art, half-anthropology.
Such a critical attitude is not difficult to understand. The ghost story, by its very nature, maintains only the weakest connections with the central themes of mainstream literature: romantic love, conflict between man and man, greed, ambition, political questions, and the like. It is true that in a few ghost stories, the protagonist falls in love with a ghost. When that has happened, the romance generally has been doomed to failure. In such cases, courtship is difficult and marriage is out of the question. In the supernatural tale, conflict takes on a peculiar form as well. The conflict usually is a matter of pursuit, on the one hand, and retreat, on the other. One "runs" from a ghost; if there is to be any sort of confrontation, it must be carried out with amulets, spells, incantations — objects not within the inventory of most people.
Supernatural literature is often said to lack high seriousness or moral purpose. In the most common ghost stories, the human protagonist is often an innocent victim who blunders into the occult dimension. The protagonist is a harmless, conventional individual who may be on holiday, sitting quietly in an easy chair, inspecting an old house, or walking through a forest. He or she has done nothing "wrong" in the usual sense; quite often the ghost that the protagonist encounters teaches no moral lesson or lessons. Moral neutrality in these tales sometimes extends to the supernatural creatures of the tales. If the ghosts are seldom exactly benign, they are frequently less than evil; and when they are evil, their evil is not of the ordinary variety. Ghosts rarely steal anything of value, seldom use bad language, kill less often than one might suppose, and are almost universally chaste. If they sometimes emit an aura of pure evil, the evil is not the sort that would bring them to the attention of the police. For the most part, spirits pursue interests of their own, devoid of moral calculation, such as retrieving a key, a ring, or a lock of hair. When, on occasion, they kill, it is often simply by frightening their victim to death; their greatest mischief is that most conventional of misdemeanors — disturbing the peace.
If, in the past, the ghost story has occupied a peripheral position in literature, however, it has never suffered from neglect by the public. From earliest history, the ghostly tale has enjoyed popularity; nor is it difficult to imagine our Neanderthal ancestors slinking timorously to their caves after the shaman had delivered a particularly frightening tale around the campfire. Supernatural elements, in fact, abound in classical literature, as seen in the Odyssey, the Aeneid, Beowulf, the poems of Chaucer, and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight; they are staples in the dramas of Marlowe, Kyd, and Shakespeare and in the poetry of Spenser. In the eighteenth century the supernatural tale took on a distinct form, becoming the Gothic novel; in the nineteenth century we meet it in the work of Sir Walter Scott, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Charles Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe, Wilkie Collins, Joseph Le Fanu, Oscar Wilde, and others. In our own time, the supernatural story has prospered not only in literature but also in motion pictures and television, to the point of sometimes being trivialized.
One anomaly of ghostly literature is that, while most people will admit to an enjoyment of the genre, the admission is often tinged with embarrassment. "I don't believe in ghosts, but I like ghost stories," is a formula on the lips of people whose views range from the mystical to the materialistic. Nor can one doubt that literary ghosts linger in thoroughly unregimented form in communist countries.
In other words, the genre of occult literature contains paradoxes. On the one hand, it is sometimes considered a fugitive form which is less than respectable; on the other, its popularity remains undimmed. One might be inclined to write off the paradox as an example of mankind's love of fantasy; but that would mean lumping the ghost story together with the fairy tale, the myth, and the legend. The problem with such a view is that the ghost story does not fit comfortably in the general classification of fantasy; it is somehow "different." One feels the difference. It is as though the ghost story occupied an ontological plane different from other kinds of fantasy.
Because the argument I pursue in this book to some degree hinges on this difference, the matter requires exploration. We can begin by stating that fantasy is a form of literature requiring an act of the imagination rather than one of the intellect. In such fantasies as Tolkien's The Hobbit and C. S. Lewis's Narnia stories, such myths as The Golden Fleece, and the fairy tale "The Sleeping Beauty," the reader is asked for imaginative sympathy rather than intellectual assent. The mental reaction is: "How delightful if such things could happen, but I know they can't."
For this reason, fantasy makes few demands in regard to realism. The elements in a fantasy (flying carpets, dragons, unicorns, elves, fairy godmothers) are created from objects the reader has knowledge of or experience of in real life, but now they are joined into new forms under pressure from the imagination. A dragon, for example, is simply a large, reptilian creature that has wings and breathes fire, elements that, if never joined together in reality, are nevertheless readily synthesized by the imagination. The writer of a fantasy is free to make a dragon realistic (as Spenser does in The Faerie Queene); or the writer may, as is done in most fantasies, simply postulate a dragon and let it go at that. In either case, no act of intellectual assent is required of the reader. Rather, he or she is invited to enter a world of heightened experience, a world consisting of familiar objects that have been transformed into new shapes and to some degree "stretched." The question of the reality of these fantastic creatures does not arise. If it does, the story ceases to be a fantasy.
Such is not the case with supernatural tales, however. In these stories we have a distinct element of feeling which is not drawn from ordinary, or "natural," experience but which nevertheless evokes an echo from the reader's sense of reality. The reader of a ghost story may never have seen a ghost, may, in fact, be a thoroughgoing materialist. Unless this reader can summon up a feeling that something "ghostly" might exist, however, the story will carry no interest or meaning. Like Hippolyta in A Midsummer Night's Dream, the reader will say: "This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard."
That is why realism is the sine qua non of the ghostly tale and why writers of such tales work hard to create the proper sense of verisimilitude. The ghost story stands or falls on its power to convince the reader that the feeling of the supernatural corresponds to some element in reality. This, in fact, may be close to what Coleridge meant when he spoke of "that willing suspension of disbelief." The suspension of disbelief is a thoroughly different act from that required by mere fantasy.
The ghost story, in short, presents the reader with what can best be described as an ontological challenge. The challenge is not in the form of philosophical propositions, however; it is in the form of feelings and emotions, but feelings and emotions that maintain a connection with the sense of reality.
It is at this point that the insights of Rudolf Otto prove most useful. I shall argue that the area of reality that Otto called the numinous — the feeling of the supernatural — stands at the center of Gothic literature. An understanding of this unique category of experience, along with its associated concept of "the sacred and the profane," will, I hope, clarify the purpose of ghostly literature and demonstrate the high seriousness referred to above.
The use of Otto's theory in the study of supernatural literature is a relatively new and untapped field. Except for a brief, albeit seminal, discussion by Devendra Varma, an essay of mine, and a few scattered references in Barton St. Armand's study of the fiction of H. P. Lovecraft, the question has scarcely been treated. Consequently, my purpose here is to break new ground; I have therefore rigorously limited myself to "representative" works of Gothic fiction.
In writing this book I have not attempted a history of Gothic literature. Many such histories exist, and anyone in search of more extensive, detailed accounts of the genre will have no difficulty finding them. In presenting my case for numinous literature, I have omitted several major writers whose work, in part at least, might well have been discussed. Certain works by Sir Walter Scott, Charles Dickens, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Herman Melville, Robert Louis Stevenson, Oscar Wilde, and Joseph Conrad contain distinct numinous elements; in my judgment, however, this interest is never central. Other writers, omitted with regret, are Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Charles Brockden Brown, Ambrose Bierce, and M. R. James. The work of these men is clearly numinous and, in some cases, of high merit; but in my estimation, none of them added any distinct or original development to the Gothic tradition, being content to work with themes and techniques already established.
The writers whose works I have selected for analysis were chosen according to three precisely defined principles: first, they exhibit as their main interest the sense of the numinous; second, each introduced new themes or techniques which were to become representative; third, all have attained a secure place within the genre of the occult.
The study begins with writers of the classical Gothic period: Horace Walpole, Ann Radcliffe, M. G. Lewis, and Charles Maturin. Later chapters deal with Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, Henry James, and Bram Stoker. The final chapter takes up three modern Gothic writers: Arthur Machen, Algernon Blackwood, and H. P. Lovecraft.
Before beginning my analysis of these authors, I wish to devote the following chapter to a discussion of Rudolf Otto's concept of the numinous as set forth in The Idea of the Holy and other works.
CHAPTER 2
The Numinous
Everyone who has given the matter some consideration is aware of a great and overriding division in our mental lives. The two parts of this division have received a variety of names through the years without losing their identity. Generally speaking, these parts may be called reason and intuition; but a large and confusing array of synonyms has attached itself to each part. Modern psychology since Freud refers to them as the "conscious" and the "unconscious" parts of the mind. In the nineteenth century the terms understanding and imagination were preferred. The medieval Scholastics knew these distinctions; there is an echo of them in Anselm's formula fides quarens intellectum. Some other terms for reason would be thought, knowledge, logic, and science; for intuition we might substitute faith, mysticism, instinct, heart, and feeling.
Although the terminology surrounding these two forms of cognition is at times obscure, the reality underlying them is not. The term reason obviously refers to that portion of our mental life about which we can form clear concepts and explicit judgments. The term intuition, on the other hand, suggests an immediate cognitive knowledge, the grounds of which cannot be made conceptual. Emerson called the latter "instinct" and "spontaneity." It is Newman's "illative sense," Augustine's "illumination"; and it resonates in Pascal's epigram, "The heart has its reasons which the reason knows nothing of."
It is with this second category of mental experience — intuition — that the work of Rudolf Otto (1860–1937) is concerned. In his years as a professor of theology at Marburg University, Otto's studies of Luther, Kant, and Schleiermacher turned his interest toward what we would today term the "psychology of religious experience." The subject has been illuminated since Otto's time by the work of Henri Bergson, Mircea Eliade, and others; but when Otto began his studies it was virtual terra incognita.
Otto set out to explore the essence of the religious impulse as it appeared in mankind's emotional life and feelings. Since the area he was concerned with is to some extent independent of concepts, Otto called it "the non- rational." In his classic The Idea of the Holy he says: "This book, recognizing the profound import of the non-rational for metaphysic, makes a serious attempt to analyze all the more exactly the feeling which remains where the concept fails."
Searching for a term by which to characterize the nonrational aspect of religion, Otto began with the category of the holy (das heilige). Holiness, he observes, is a category of interpretation "peculiar to the sphere of religion." The holy includes ethical and rational concepts but also contains a specific element, or "moment," which sets it aside from the purely intellectual. This ineffable, or nonrational, element in the holy "eludes apprehension in terms of concepts."
In order to describe this ineffable element in the holy — this "unnamed Something" — Otto was forced to invent a new term, to
find a word to stand for this element in isolation, this "extra" in the meaning of "holy" above and beyond the meaning of goodness. For this purpose I adopt a word coined from the Latin numen. Omen has given us "ominous," and there is no reason why from numen we should not similarly form a word "numinous." I shall speak, then, of a unique "numinous" category of value and of a definitely "numinous" state of mind, which is always found wherever the category is applied. This mental state is perfectly sui generis and irreducible to any other; and therefore, like every absolutely primary and elementary datum, while it admits of being discussed, it cannot be strictly defined.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Haunted Presence by S. L. Varnado. Copyright © 1987 the University of Alabama Press. Excerpted by permission of The University of Alabama Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
