Peter
Becnel
16
November 2016
A Fantasy of the Real
As Literature changes and its familiar tropes, narrative structures, and
conceptual frameworks evolve, it is easy to disregard the previous narrative
conventions as old-fashioned. This certainly seemed to be part of William Dean
Howells’s project in moving fiction away from the highly constructed narrative
formations found in romantic and gothic texts, to a form of fiction that is more
invested in exposing the function of relationships and perceptions as people
actually experience them. While American Realists do not seem committed to
mimesis, realist writers do seem to insist that fiction present cultural
artifacts that, when interpreted, illuminate details and relationships that seem
more closely representational of the function of the world. However, the
movement into Realism depends on Romanticism, not only because the Romantic
period preceded it, but because the presentation of the real must include
perceptions that are colored by the Romantic past, kept very much alive in the
minds of actual people.
Realist texts exploit and depend on Romantic frameworks to distinguish between
the “real” and the fantastical. Ironically, Realism is a movement that must
contain Romanticism because without the romantic, the equally artificial Realist
constructs do not seem to present a more realistic construction of the function
of society or the world. It is the job of the reader to acknowledge the way that
characters’ fidelity to Romantic or Gothic interpretive lenses artificially
color characters’ perceptions of reality. This issue is further problematized in
the Gothic, when Gothic figures are used in Realist texts to expose a hidden
reality, such as readers see in Charles W. Chesnutt’s
The Marrow of Tradition.
Marrow’s
title suggests bones, a clear nod to the Gothic, but only presents bones
indirectly, focusing instead on their very center. As its title suggests,
Marrow is a Realist text that
utilizes Gothic figures in order to explore a more profound, or real, truth
about society in the South during Reconstruction. By analyzing the use of gothic
figures, and narrative structures also seen in Edgar Allan Poe’s
The Fall of the House of Usher and
comparing Poe’s use of these figures to Chesnutt’s use of the Gothic in
Marrow, I hope to demonstrate the
unique way that Chesnutt exploits the Gothic in a Realist novel in order
illuminate how racial anxieties become a generative source for the fiction of
black criminality.
The
Fall of the House of Usher
provides an especially useful model for understanding the Gothic structures that
Chesnutt exploits because of its reliance on the Gothic to make manifest
Roderick’s plausible psychological disturbance while resisting announcing the
source of psychological decay; furthermore,
The Fall of the House of Usher’s
focus on the decay of an undeviating lineage provides a clear connection between
gothic figures and the interpretations of their plausible sources—generational
decay or the supernatural.
Very
early in The Fall of the House of Usher,
familiar Gothic imagery sets the stage for the odd correspondence that the story
frequently uses to connect the perception of the characters, to the physical
features of the environment that surrounds them. As the short story opens, “the
clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens” (Poe 1). In the opening scene, the
reader is treated to an environment that is physically oppressive due the gloom
of the weather. As the narrator travels to the house, the setting itself seems
to oppress both the story’s voice and the perspective of the narrator. The house
is then personified, given “vacant eye-like windows,” beginning figures
necessary to establish a psychological connection between the physical house and
the characters (Poe 1). As the house is presented like a human creature, the
narrator acknowledges that “there are combinations of very simple natural
objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the reason, and the
analysis, of this power, lie considerations beyond our depths” (Poe 1). The
narrator directly acknowledges the disturbing impact that the “decayed” scenery
has upon him (Poe 1). Simultaneously, the narrator indicates a significant
feature of Poe’s story. The most psychologically disturbing the arrangement of
objects in his short story are a significant reason that Poe receives such
popular and critical attention. While the text is rich with familiar Gothic
tropes, it is also laden with irresolution.
The
popular reader is troubled by the familiar dissonance invoked by Poe’s story,
while the critic finds a perfect artifact to interpret and reinterpret. As John
C. Gruessner notes, The Fall of the House
of Usher handles the issue of “rationalism versus supernaturalism,” and
endures partially because it presents a Gothic story that “straddles” the
boundary between a story in which “supernatural events actually do occur and
[one] in which there are rational, if at times highly improbable, explanations
for occult phenomena” (2). This lack of certainty, separating the potentially
real from the potentially supernatural, is never resolved for the reader. A
significant intention of Poe’s work seems to be to disturbed the reader with
this lack of certainty. This is a convention of the gothic, the supernatural is
used to trouble the characters, rendering them unable to navigate the
problematic phenomena they encounter or its effects on them, and leaving the
reader unable to definitively identify a generative source for the disturbing
gothic phenomena.
However, while Poe’s use of the gothic seems intended to defy reason and resist
definitive interpretation, it seems necessary that in order for his Gothic
portrayals to disturb his readers, Poe must rely upon social issues as, in many
cases, they offer the potentially reasonable interpretation. In the case of
The Fall of the House of Usher, Poe
relies on the “transmission, from sire to son, of the patrimony with the name,
which had, at length, so identified the two as to merge the original title of
the estate in the quaint and equivocal appellation of the ‘House of Usher’—an
appellation which seemed to include, in the minds of the peasantry who used it,
both the family and the family mansion” (Poe 2). The doubling of the mansion and
the family, and the combination of the identifier “House of Usher” for either,
further advances the physical manifestation of Roderick’s interior both through
the plot of the story and the language in the story. The signifier “House of
Usher” is presented with ambiguity throughout the story, and the reader is
unable to resolve the cognitive dissonance that is generated through its double
function.
This
sets in place one potentially rational explanation for the family’s
degeneration, that a family bloodline, when left to advance uninterrupted for
too long, degenerates into the grotesque. The
narrator clearly indicates this possibility, as Roderick has “a cadaverousness
of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips
somewhat thin and very pallid, surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a
delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar
formations; a finely moulded chin, speaking in its want of prominence, of want
of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity” (Poe 4). In
the narrator’s description, we can see the beautiful that has begun to decay.
The hair is “more than web-like,” so fine and thin—typically associated with the
beautiful—but here reduced to a state more similar to a spider’s web, indicating
that its delicacy has become so refined that it has become grotesque. His nose
is almost “a delicate Hebrew model,” but is rendered grotesque by “a breadth of
nostril [that is] unusual in similar formations” (Poe 4).
Roderick’s condition develops the notion upon this theme of the over-refinement
of features due to the undeviating bloodline, as “he suffered much from a morbid
acuteness of the senses” (Poe 5). Similarly, Roderick’s perception of the world
is overly refined. Roderick’s perception is that of a man who experiences the
world in all of its forms in too extreme a degree to be tolerable. His family
lineage has so purified his sense perception that he is no longer able to
interact with the world and only feels a degree of tolerance for the world when
he is kept entirely within the walls of his home. That is, as his senses become
grotesque from over-refinement, he perceives the world around him as inherently
grotesque as well. When the narrator sees Roderick’s sister, lady Madeline, the
issue of identity presented in the doubling of Roderick and the House is further
problematized.
When
the narrator initially perceives Madeline, he “regarded her with an utter
astonishment not unmingled with dread. Her figure, her air, her features—all, in
their very minutest development were those—were identically, (I can use no other
sufficient term,) were identically those of Roderick Usher who sat beside me”
(Poe 5). Here, the narrator experiences the uncanny when he looks at Madeline,
and he is so overwhelmed by her resemblance to her brother, that his is unable
to reason through the experience, he “can use no other sufficient term” other
than “identically” (Poe 5). What the narrator seems to indicate here, is that
they are identical, copies, without individual identities, and are therefore
both somehow united with the house. The merging of the siblings’ identities,
defies the narrator’s attempts at reasonable expression. He acknowledges that he
is unable to accurately depict the troubling experience of the merging
identities—again the reader is left in the space between the reasonable and the
supernatural. Is some sort of doubling occurring between Roderick and his
sister? Or, are they nearly identical because of the lack of deviation in the
bloodline?
The
cracking and division of the house, which our narrator seems narrowly to escape,
does not offer the reader a resolution of the tale that satisfies his desire to
differentiate the reasonable from the supernatural. As Gruessner notes, “The
narrator would have us believe that he is documenting the mental decline of
Roderick . . . Prior to the climactic moment, however, the narrator has admitted
that, in spite of his rationalist pose, both the gloomy mansion and Roderick’s
mental state have unsettled him” (84). The narrator’s unreliability could be
caused by the influence of Roderick’s decay. The origin of the contamination
possibly coming from Roderick’s grotesque perception of the house, his troubled,
mixed identity, the possibility that the house may split due to the influence of
the supernatural, the system of doubling that is impossible to reason through,
is never given a source.
As David Roche convincingly argues in
his essay The ‘Unhealthy’ in ‘The Fall of
the House of Usher’: Poe’s Aesthetics of Contamination, “the ‘unhealthy’
work of art is considered to be produced by an ‘unhealthy’ subject and is
believed to have the capacity to contaminate the recipient” (30). What Roche
identifies in his analysis of the contaminating quality of Poe’s story, is the
notion that the effect on the reader, which I call a state of cognitive
dissonance, and he calls “the aesthetic response,” “can be identifiable and
articulated; its origin cannot” (30). The
reader is unable to assign a source to the production of the cognitive
dissonance because he cannot use reason to move past the possibility of the
supernatural. The story disturbs all involved including the reader, and as such,
it does not provide the reader with easy answers. This story’s force is derived
from its ability to generate the cognitive dissonance that occurs as a result of
the indeterminacy between potentially reasonable or supernatural forces. The
generated cognitive dissonance, the psychological suggestions remain just that,
and without a satisfactory resolution, the reader, like the narrator, is left to
inhabit the uncertain space that seems to make up much of the Gothic narrative’s
designed effect. When a gothic text presents the potentially supernatural, it
presents the potentially supernatural as a plausible interpretation. A
reasonable person can argue that the House of Usher divides because of a
supernatural force that has come to inhabit the house and the family. However,
in order to create cognitive dissonance, Poe offers readers an equally plausible
interpretation that can be based on reason. The Ushers are insane due to their
undeviating bloodlines; the house is split by a lightning bolt during the storm.
If we
read the Gothic text, as Michael Brown suggests, as “thought experiments that
test the limits not just of human endurance, but more specifically of human
reason,” we are able to perceive the differences in the usefulness of Gothic
figures to both the Gothic and Realist texts (280). In his work, Brown indicates
that “the imagination . . . of a gothic novelist is haunted at its edges by a
mysterious world beyond the limitations of understanding” (281). While we see
many similar Gothic features in Chesnutt’s
The Marrow of Tradition, because
Marrow aspires to be a Realist text,
the texts awareness of the Gothic figures and their function in the story is
quite different. While the gothic text may suggest the possibility of the
supernatural and offer it as a plausible interpretation alongside the
reasonable, the realist text may utilize the seemingly supernatural, but only
contained within a reasonable generative source. In a realist text, gothic
figures service the real—that which can be confirmed and validated using reason.
Qualifying the distinction between the European Gothic and American Gothic,
Gerald Ianovici claims that “the representation of slavery as entrapment in
extremis . . . [is] a generative
condition for the American gothic,” and that in
The Marrow of Tradition, “Chesnutt
replaces an alien ‘Gothic psychology’ inherited from Europe with a ‘Gothic
sociology’ that is distinctly American;” I will argue that this is
characteristic of realism. Based on this qualification,
The Fall of the House of Usher is
clearly a gothic text that is written in the European tradition. In addition to
the haunted mansion, the plausible, reasonable interpretation of the story
requires the acknowledgement of mental decay, or, the psychological. The change
that Ianovici indicates from psychology to sociology implies the movement from a
focus on the deterioration of the individual to the deterioration of a social
structure, which can be coded, through gothic figures. Furthermore, this
qualification implies that gothic figures, which are used in Poe to create
dissonance between the reasonable and supernatural, are also used by American
realist texts to create a division between the real and the fictional, the
actual and the fantasy.
Like
The Fall of the House of Usher, Marrow
presents the degeneracy of a family line through generations of Southern
nobility. Lee Ellis, a local editor at the newspaper run by Major Carteret, a
prominent Southern businessman and white supremacist, is described as “an
excellent judge of character” who “had formed a very decided opinion on Tom
Delamere,” the grandson of a prominent southern aristocrat in the town of
Wellington. Lee Ellis is an important figure in
Marrow in that he is uniquely
positioned to be a narrator whose reason is not affected by nostalgia for the
Antebellum south (Chesnutt 103). “To Ellis, unbiased by ancestral traditions,
biased perhaps by jealousy, Tom Delamere was a type of the degenerate
aristocrat. If as he often heard, it took three or four generations to make a
gentleman, and as many more to complete the curve and return to the base from
which it started, Tom Delamere belonged somewhere on the downward slant, with
large possibilities of further decline” (Chesnutt 104). Ellis sees a similar
degenerate quality in Tom Delamere as the one exhibited by Roderick in
The Fall of the House of Usher.
However, Tom’s degeneracy is not caused so much by the constant proliferation of
a pure bloodline without deviation or the supernatural influence of a haunted
mansion; Tom’s degeneracy is caused by the removal of the system of Southern
slave-holding aristocracy in the Antebellum South.
Unlike his father, Old Mr. Delamere, Tom
was not raised in an environment that allowed him to cultivate the sensibilities
of a gentleman. Old Mr. Delamere, inhabited a world in which his enormous social
power, including that over the lives of his slaves, enabled him to develop
relatively virtuous inclinations; however, without the Antebellum South’s
plantation system, a system in which in its most ideal form, slaves were treated
as if they were members of the owners’ family (Old Mr. Delamere’s trusted
servant Sandy, a former slave, fits into this category), Tom begins to mirror
the environment of the new social system in which he inhabits. According to
Ianovici, “Tom Delamere represents the dissolution of the idealized southern
gentleman. Heir to one of Wellington’s most distinguished families, Tom embodies
the decline of the local white establishment” (Ianovici 43).
Like
Roderick usher, Tom’s interior begins to mirror the exterior world in a form of
Gothic correspondence; however, unlike Roderick, Tom shows few symptoms of
physical deterioration; in fact, he is able to so control his exterior
appearance that he exploits his physical appearance in order to manipulate the
morally bankrupt system in which he inhabits. Unlike the morally developed
sensibilities of his grandfather, Old Mr. Delamere, Tom’s lack of a moral system
allows for horrible degeneration as he sinks deeper into lying, drinking to
excess, and gambling with money that he does not have.
Tom’s
moral degeneration concludes in his use of the Delamere’s humble and faithful
servant Sandy’s clothing in order to rob and kill
` Mrs. Ochiltree. Tom is pushed to these extremes by his own morally
bankrupt behavior. As Tom returns home from robbing and killing Mrs.
Ochiltree, Sandy, who is walking home himself, sees “himself hurrying along in
front of him. Possibly the muddled condition of Sandy’s intellect had so
affected his judgement as to vitiate any conclusion he might draw, but Sandy was
quite sober enough to perceive that the figure ahead of him wore his best
clothes” (Chesnutt 147).
Both
the notion that Sandy’s intellect was “muddled” by drink, and the fact that he
cannot trust himself with what he sees, borrows from the gothic trope of the
uncanny, and exploits the common Gothic narrative feature of the character
experiencing the “supernatural” while in a state of altered consciousness.
Furthermore, Sandy “maintain[s] as nearly as possible an equal distance between
himself and his double. The situation was certainly an incomprehensible one, and
savored of the supernatural” (Chesnutt 147). Sandy’s attribution of the
supernatural to Tom’s minstrel performance, indicates Sandy’s willingness to
believe that Tom is actually a double of himself. Like the uncanny recognition
throughout Gothic Literature, seen in the troubling encounter of the narrator of
The Fall of the House of Usher
through Roderick’s sister Madeline, Sandy wonders “Ef dat’s me gwine ‘long in
front . . . den who is dis bein’ here” (Chesnutt 148). Sandy’s identity is so
disturbed by the encounter with Tom Delamere’s performance, that he is uncertain
of his own identity. This troubling scenario contributes to
Marrow’s theme regarding the social
alienation of black people living in a society that at once rejects them and
forces fictional identities upon them. That is, Sandy believes that an offensive
performance of black criminality may be him.
It is the responsibility of the reader
to unravel what happened in this scene with Sandy and his double. Tom Delamere
chooses the very disguise that he uses to impersonate a black man during the
“cakewalk” scene (Chesnutt 118). When Ellis observes Delamere performing in
black face, dressed as Sandy in the “cakewalk,” yet another Gothic trope is
revealed as “the grotesque contortions of one participant had struck him as
somewhat overdone, even for the comical type of negro” (Chesnutt 118). Ellis is
looking at Delamere’s performance, and as he acts like the minstrel-show
stereotype of a black performer, his external appearance matches his internal
moral grotesqueness. Ianovici indicates that this moment “demonstrates how the
racist construction of black inferiority contaminates the fiction of white
purity” (46). That the white figure, Tom Delamere, the descendant of the true,
honorable, Southern aristocrat, Old Mr. Delamere, performs so convincingly in
blackface indicates that the true souce of the fiction of black degeneracy and
subsequently, criminality, is actually generated by the formerly white
aristocracy. That is, Chesnutt uses the gothic trope of the uncanny to
demonstrate that white criminality is the generative force producing fictions of
black criminality so pervasive, that they are believed by the black people that
they mock and misrepresent.
This
is the same outfit that Delamere uses to rob Polly Ochiltree. Dressed in the
garb that fits society’s perception of a black man, a perception that reinforces
a comforting nostalgia for the Antebellum South’s plantation system, a nostalgic
fiction that is no longer relevant to the Southern Reconstruction world, Tom is
rendered externally grotesque. White society is only able to perceive him as
such when he is dressed as a black man because society’s generative gothic
fiction only allows a category of moral degeneracy for black people.
Sandy’s troubled identity suggests that he is no longer able to distinguish the
fictional character of a burly black burglar, from his own identity. As he was
taught to inhabit his identity, as he inhabited his role on the plantation with
Old Mr. Delamere, he now attempts to inhabit the role assigned to him by
society, even in the face of his own identity. Sandy is unable to resolve the
misidentification. The reader, however, can immediately identify this as a
fiction. And the reader must act as a spectator, as the town plans to lynch
innocent Sandy for Tom Delamere’s crime. Only Ellis, who saw Tom Delamere’s
performance as one “unbiased by ancestral traditions, biased perhaps by
jealousy,” is able to unravel the mystery, and successfully plead with Old Mr.
Delamere to save Sandy’s life. Sandy is spared, and so too, is Tom Delamere. The
town reacts quite differently when the murderous burglar is revealed to be a
white man.
In
The Fall of the House of Usher, the
reader, the narrator, and the characters of the story are introduced to an
irresolute, contagious dissonance that destroys two of the characters, troubles
the narrator, and leaves the reader in a disturbed state of indetermination;
however, Marrow too leaves the reader
in a disturbed state. The difference, and the usefulness of the Gothic in
Realist texts, I think, is illuminated by this distinction.
The Fall of the House of Usher
troubles the reader because it is at once strange, indeterminate, and
psychologically familiar. The disturbance one experiences after reading
Usher is the same disturbance that
one experiences when grasping at interpretations to explain the troubling events
of one’s life. Like many critics, readers may settle on an interpretation and
argue to support an interpretation despite the inability to satisfactorily
resolve the tensions created by the story. They originate from an indeterminate
source, something inside the narrator, perhaps the supernatural; however, in
Marrow, the reader is given a
definite source and purpose for the use of Gothic tropes.
The generative source of the Gothic in the marrow of tradition is a
fictional racist construction that colors the perception of all of the people of
the story. To the characters who have abandoned the racist Antebellum past, the
Romanticized notion of slavery as an institution of slave-holding families, the
notion of the happy slave—the Gothic appears as the Gothic should, a strange
contortion, a distortion of reality. A recognizable mutation, a version of the
real through a constructed fictional lens that changes the perception of men
into monsters. When Old Mr. Delamere discovers the truth regarding Sandy’s crime
and condemns Tom, he renounces him saying “Tom is no longer a member of my
family, I disown him. He has covered the family name—my name, sir—with infamy”
(Chesnutt 184). In renouncing his grandson, Old Mr. Delamere renounces his
fantasy of the Antebellum past, the notion that a similar rule of honor and
order can be passed into the next generation. In that moment, he recognizes the
current construction, the fictional construction of society as Gothic. He
disowns his own lineage, recognizing it as hideous and grotesque, and dies, this
old beacon of the Antebellum South, the closest the novel can present to an
“honorable” former slave owner and gentleman.
But to the racist, the racially insecure, the Major Carterets, and
Captain McBane’s, the grotesque, the caricature, the constructed categories of
identification, appear just as they should must be upheld at all costs. It is no
coincidence that the fictional town of Wellington is divided based on a
constructed barrier of black and white. Following Sandy’s vindication, “all over
the United States had flashed the report of another dastardly outrage by a burly
black brute” (Chesnutt 187).
I do
not suggest that Chesnutt goes so far as to indicate that the Gothic can be
something reasonable; what Chesnutt succeeds in doing, is relocating the
generative source of the Gothic coding that pervades race relations to the
unreasonable racial anxieties that appear during Reconstruction. It is the
degeneration of the Antebellum gentleman’s lineage, that of Tom Delamere and the
fictional construction of a white supremacy based on a notion of superiority
that does not exist, that leads to the construction of the black brute and the
gothic fictions that pervade the real in Wellington.
Works
Cited
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of Usher"" The Edgar Allan Poe Review 5.1 (2004): 80-90. JSTOR.
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Holland, Norman N., and Leona F. Sherman. "Gothic Possibilities." New
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