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1b. Long Essay Describe, analyze, and illustrate a term, objective, or combinations . . . |
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Stephen Defferari
8
October 2016
Transdiscursive Authorship and American Romanticism
The
existence of comparative studies in Romantic literature depends upon the
delineation of continuities that allow such thematic labels to function in the
first place. Like all thematic or periodization labels in literature,
continuities are cataloged and grouped under their respective labels, not just
for the purpose of identifying ideational or temporal phases in the history of a
language or nation’s texts, but also so that they can be compared with potential
analogues existing in foreign discourse realms. The problem, however, with the
existence of a particular thematic correspondence between two different language
realms is etiologic in nature: either there must be some sociocultural
precedence for the correspondence, or there must be some degree of
intertextuality subsisting between two or more texts—or perhaps both. This
process of intertextuality, identified by Michel Foucault as the
“transdiscursive” potential of texts to influence the authorship of subsequent
texts, accounts for the presence of common Romantic topoi in the works of
American Romantic writers, particularly those of Nathaniel Hawthorne (Foucault
1632). The relative success then of a Romantic topos, such as the presence of
the uncanny in Hawthorne’s “The Minister’s Black Veil,” seems to depend on the
author’s ability to use it for the purpose of either conditioning reader’s
perspectives, or edifying them of
the typical associated perspectives established by the intellectual climate. In
establishing agreement between his character’s perspectives and the varied
lexical definitions of the uncanny, Hawthorne demonstrates in “The Minister’s
Black Veil” both a sensitivity towards readers and the topos itself, insofar as
these different perspectives pose a variety of problems related to
identification and individuality within the context of puritanism. As with the
formative and identic significance of the puritans, and the intended religious
principles which were to define Christianity and Christians in the United
States, these problems of thematic identity and attribution should resonate
today with American Romanticism critics today.
His
consideration for readers is demonstrated in “The Minister’s Black Veil” by the
fact that multiple perspectives are presented on the subject of Parson Hooper’s
black veil. As Freud states in his work, “The “Uncanny,”” authors who include
this concept in their work have the ability to “increase [the] effect and
multiply it far beyond what could happen in reality” (Freud 951). Similarly,
Hawthorne multiplies the potential perspectives of the veil by giving readers
access to the thoughts and feelings of characters through the narrator in the
story. But the underlining purpose of presenting many different perceptions of
the black veil derives from the polysemic quality of the uncanny. Fundamentally,
the import of the term refers to certain things
which “excite fear in general,” but the particular ways in which this
associated emotion becomes fixed to the term relate to the dynamics and
qualities of these certain things (930). There are a few definitions that are
relevant for understanding Hawthorne’s use of the concept in the short story.
One corresponds with the German word
Heimlich – ‘homely’ or ‘familiar’ - and so the uncanny, or
unheimlich, becomes linked with
everything “frightening because it is not
known and familiar” (931). The second is the notion that the canny, or
Heimlich, refers to things
“concealed…from sight,” and so all things
unheimlich in quality “ought to have remained secret and hidden but have
come to light” (934). The third is that the uncanny produces a degree of
“intellectual uncertainty,” so as to give one the impression of “not knowing
one’s way” in conceptualizing a circumstance or thing (Freud 931). This last
definition refers directly to the typical intellectual ambivalence of the
uncanny: that which is unheimlich or
unfamiliar must also be novel to some extent, or “Something has to be added to
what is novel and unfamiliar in order to make it uncanny” (Freud 931). Each of
these definitions corresponds with characteral perspectives in the story, and
thus works to demonstrate the author’s circumspect treatment of the topos.
Even
though Freud codifies all of these different interpretations of the topos in a
work that could have no actual bearing on Hawthorne’s work (since it was written
at a later date), all of these different lexical interpretations of the uncanny
were present in the general intellectual climate of German Romanticism prior to
Hawthorne’s writing of “The Minister’s Black Veil.” Accordingly, it is not a
coincidence that many of the different perspectives presented by Hawthorne
relate to descriptions found in Freud’s work. For example, when the sexton of
Milford responds to Goodman Gray’s question of whether the veiled figure is Mr.
Hooper, the sexton is unable to clearly identify him by some physical uniquely
individual quality, and instead relies upon the absence of Parson Shute: “Of a
certainty it is good Mr. Hooper,…[for] He was to have exchanged pulpits with
Parson Shute, of Westbury; but Parson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday,
being to preach a funeral sermon” (Hawthorne 5). The identity here is only
assured by the noted absence of Parson Shute, and not by some other more
immediate means. That the wearing of the black veil should throw into
uncertainty the identity of Mr. Hooper, and that it should also change his
identity into something entirely “awful” both indicates Hawthorne’s thorough
understanding of the topos and its relation to Puritanism. The visage of Hooper,
which leaves all veiled “except…[his] mouth and chin,” corresponds with two
historically relevant topics: that Puritan churches were often referred to as
‘mouth-houses’, and that the church positions, such as parson, were thought of
in the context of the theological
concept of the
persona ecclesiae. A Puritan
‘mouth-house’ is a church and a general public space for meetings and
discussions, yet in the story the veiled parson undermines the social potential
of the sphere in which he is present. None of Mr. Hooper’s parishioners directly
question the purpose of the veil, owing mostly to the uncanny ambiguity which it
causes. Furthermore, this notion of the
persona ecclesiae marginalizes the individual of church officials in their
respective positons, as indicated by the nonspecific determination
persona. Admittedly this notion has
its roots in Catholicism, and so it must not weight too heavily upon the Puritan
context of the story; however the in-built fatalism of Puritanism, as well as
the interchangeability of specific church figures both invariably work to
diminish the importance of individuality in the context of the short story.
Parson Hooper is the veiled mysterious figure precisely because he is not Parson
Shute, rather than for some easily identifiable feature or positive
characteristics - an act of identification based on negation rather than
assertion. When he emerges for the Sunday service, “the first glimpse of [his]
clergyman's figure was the signal for the bell to cease its summons,” rather
than the appearance of the parson apart from personal qualities (1). This
identification with the “clergyman’s figure” subjects individual identity to the
general figure or persona which his
office conveys. The narrator further typifies the parson according to the
appearance associated with his office—“[he] was dressed with due clerical
neatness, as if a careful wife had starched his band, and brushed the weekly
dust from his Sunday's garb” (6). The veil is ironically the only “remarkable”
feature of his appearance that, by way of its uncanny effect, undermines the
other character’s abilities to ascertain his identity (6). So, aside from the
occupational and marital indices of his individuality, the narrator also
identifies him with the typical reception of his oratory. He is “a good
preacher,…[who strives] to win his people heavenward by mild, persuasive
influences, rather than to drive them thither by the thunders of the Word” (13).
The act of narration includes choice in the way of tense, whereas reported
dialogue is always fixed in the assumed present. However commonsensical this may
be, the dynamic between past and present is important for the narrator, for the
narrator’s omniscience already includes the knowledge of the parson’s decomposed
state – “The grass of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, the
burial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; but awful is
still the thought that it mouldered beneath the Black Veil!” (68). All narration
outside of reported dialogue in the present tense occurs in the past tense,
right up until the moment of the revelation of the state of the parson’s corpse.
Whether the narrator’s omniscience is limited bears little meaning upon the
effect or intention of Hawthorne’s authorship in the process of identification
and individuation. As readers we come to know of the figure only through a
medium that is not among those characters in the story yet seems to have more
intimate knowledge of the feelings and thoughts and reactions of the characters,
but less so with the parson. It identifies a procession of events and a limited
criteria for what constitutes the individuality of the parson, and records his
existence by the record of his reported dialogue, but it does nothing more than
structure a point of view with foreknowledge and voice outside dialogue. We can
only know of his identity by his effect upon his parishioners, and his bride to
be, Elizabeth. All points of reference to the man himself are mitigated by
others in the story.
Similarly, the narrator is as difficult to identify as the subject of its
story. At times it presents a doubtful portrait of Hooper, wherein the latter
either “appeared to not notice the perturbation of the people,” or “seemed not
fully to partake of the prevailing wonder” his presence causes among the
parishioners (11). And then, by the example of the frightened village children,
the narrator seems to possess intimate knowledge that it could not have gathered
from a limited perspective: “Their instinctive dread caused him to feel more
strongly than aught else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven with the
threads of the black crape” (52). In the case of its limitations, it would be
sensible to assume that the veil provides enough facial coverage to limit the
degree to which it is possible to determine his internal state by the state of
his facial expressions; yet what the narrator is drawing attention to is the
extent to which outer manifestations do not necessarily correspond with internal
dispositions. After all his mouth is still visible, so what is it about the rest
of his face that will provide an ontologically certain reflection of his inward
condition? Clearly the veil does not prevent him from finding his way around
without mishaps, or fulfilling the requirements of his office, beyond giving “a
darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things” (6). And that he
“shuddered…and rushed forth into the darkness” upon viewing his reflection in
glass entails implies knowledge of the “horror” which overwhelmed him (28). The
veil is as much a cause of dread for the parson as is his veiled presence among
his parishioners, and it conditions the reception of his oratory as much as it
symbolizes and perhaps determines the parson’s perspective of the world. As the
narrator states about the effect of his veiled presence upon the overall
impression of his oratorical tone and context, “there was something, either in
the sentiment of the discourse itself, or in the imagination of the auditors,
which [was] tinged, rather more darkly than usual, with the gentle gloom of Mr.
Hooper's temperament” (13). Independent of the narrator’s tone or bias, it
represents a perspective that, like the veil, is an externalize medium which
conditions the readers perspectives.
This notion of the narrator as a conditioning medium for readers
parallels the extent to which the veil is also a conditioning medium for the
characters in the story. Only the veil’s potential to condition the perspectives
of the parishioner, in the context of puritanism, symbolically constitutes
original sin. Beyond its theological significance, the consequence of mortality
in Adam and Eve’s Edenic transgression fails to function as a significant
omnipresent memento mori for puritans.
The veil then provides an effective, albeit externalized medium to serve a
perpetual reminder of this consequence, and mankind’s indelible sinfulness. Its
omnipresent symbolic import “gives a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate
things,” and so renders a need for distinguishing between animate and inanimate
things purposeless when considered with sin and death (6). Mortality is both a
consequence and a further cause of additional sinfulness in the world, and so
flesh become for the parson an inadequate medium through which to have
meaningful connections. As he states to Elizabeth, “No mortal eye will see [the
veil] withdrawn,” not even his own, for any mode of sense provided by mortal
habiliments will always be conditioned by a sinful, and therefore false medium
(37). Alternately, the veil for the parishioners is perceived more as an
isolated indice of guilt or sin, rather than a symbolic gesture that secretly
impugns everyone’s innocence. But what is interesting is that the parson does
not directly state why or what he wears the veil or what it symbolizes. And so
he is in the dark and lets his fellow parishioners remain in their dark
obliviousness, but why?
