Romanticism

1. The Sublime and the Gothic

imagination.
DEFINITION OF THE SUBLIME:
From Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin
of Our Ideas of the Sublime and the Beautiful

Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas

of pain and danger; that is to say, whatever is in
any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible
objects, or operates in a manner analogous to
terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is
productive of the strongest emotions which the
mind is capable of.
John Martin, The Bard (1817)
John Martin, Manfred and the Witch of the Alps (1837)

Based on a scene in Byron’s poem Manfred

Salvator Rosa
1615-1673
 The Gothic Novel
The Gothic novel is a literary genre, in
which the prominent features are mystery,
doom, decay, old buildings with ghosts in
them, madness, hereditary curses and so
on.
The first Gothic novel is generally agreed
to be The Castle of Otranto (1764) by
Horace Walpole.
The second early and major exponent of
the form was Ann Radcliffe, who produced
a half-dozen works, of which the best
known is The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794).
 The Mysteries of Udolpho – Chapter 1

To the south, the view was bounded by the

majestic Pyrenees, whose summits, veiled in
clouds, or exhibiting awful forms, seen, and lost
again, as the partial vapours rolled along, were
sometimes barren, and gleamed through the blue
tinge of air, and sometimes frowned with forests of
gloomy pine, that swept downward to their base.
These tremendous precipices were contrasted by
the soft green of the pastures and woods that hung
upon their skirts; among whose flocks, and herds,
and simple cottages, the eye, after having scaled
the cliffs above, delighted to repose.
 The Mysteries of Udolpho – Chapter 1

Adjoining the eastern side of the green-house, looking towards the

plains of Languedoc, was a room, which Emily called hers, and
which contained her books, her drawings, her musical instruments,
with some favourite birds and plants. Here she usually exercised
herself in elegant arts, cultivated only because they were congenial
to her taste, and in which native genius, assisted by the
instructions of Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, made her an early
proficient. The windows of this room were particularly pleasant;
they descended to the floor, and, opening upon the little lawn that
surrounded the house, the eye was led between groves of almond,
palm-trees, flowering-ash, and myrtle, to the distant landscape,
where the Garonne wandered.
 The Mysteries of Udolpho – Chapter 1

The first interruptions to the happiness he had known

since his retirement, were occasioned by the death of his
two sons. He lost them at that age when infantine
simplicity is so fascinating; and though, in consideration
of Madame St. Aubert’s distress, he restrained the
expression of his own, and endeavoured to bear it, as he
meant, with philosophy, he had, in truth, no philosophy
that could render him calm to such losses. One daughter
was now his only surviving child; and, while he watched
the unfolding of her infant character, with anxious
fondness, he endeavoured, with unremitting effort, to
counteract those traits in her disposition, which might
hereafter lead her from happiness.
 The Mysteries of Udolpho – Chapter 1
In person, Emily resembled her mother; having the same elegant
symmetry of form, the same delicacy of features, and the same blue
eyes, full of tender sweetness. But, lovely as was her person, it was
the varied expression of her countenance, as conversation
awakened the nicer emotions of her mind, that threw such a
captivating grace around her:
Those tend’rer tints, that shun the careless eye,
And, in the world’s contagious circle, die.
St. Aubert cultivated her understanding with the most scrupulous
care. He gave her a general view of the sciences, and an exact
acquaintance with every part of elegant literature. He taught her
Latin and English, chiefly that she might understand the sublimity of
their best poets. She discovered in her early years a taste for works
of genius; and it was St. Aubert’s principle, as well as his
inclination, to promote every innocent means of happiness.
It was in one of these excursions to this spot, that she observed the following
lines written with a pencil on a part of the wainscot:
SONNET
Go, pencil! faithful to thy master’s sighs
Go—tell the Goddess of the fairy scene,
When next her light steps wind these wood-walks green,
Whence all his tears, his tender sorrows, rise;
Ah! paint her form, her soul-illumin’d eyes,
The sweet expression of her pensive face,
The light’ning smile, the animated grace—
The portrait well the lover’s voice supplies;
Speaks all his heart must feel, his tongue would say:
Yet ah! not all his heart must sadly feel!
How oft the flow’ret’s silken leaves conceal
The drug that steals the vital spark away!
And who that gazes on that angel-smile,
Would fear its charm, or think it could beguile!
These lines were not inscribed to any person; Emily therefore could not apply
them to herself, though she was undoubtedly the nymph of these shades.
The progress of this disorder was marked, on the side of Madame
St. Aubert, by patient suffering, and subjected wishes. The
composure, with which she awaited her death, could be derived
only from the retrospect of a life governed, as far as human frailty
permits, by a consciousness of being always in the presence of the
Deity, and by the hope of a higher world. But her piety could not
entirely subdue the grief of parting from those whom she so dearly
loved. During these her last hours, she conversed much with St.
Aubert and Emily, on the prospect of futurity, and on other religious
topics. The resignation she expressed, with the firm hope of
meeting in a future world the friends she left in this, and the effort
which sometimes appeared to conceal her sorrow at this temporary
separation, frequently affected St. Aubert so much as to oblige him
to leave the room. Having indulged his tears awhile, he would dry
them and return to the chamber with a countenance composed by
an endeavour which did but increase his grief.
The Mysteries of Udolpho, set in 1584, tells the story of Emily St.
Aubert, the only child of a landed rural family whose fortunes are now
in decline. Emily and her father share an especially close bond, due to
their shared appreciation for nature. After her mother's death from a
serious illness, Emily and her father grow even closer. She
accompanies him on a trip from their native Gascony, through the
Pyrenees to the Mediterranean coast of Rousillon. During the journey,
they encounter Valancourt, a handsome man who also feels an almost
mystical kinship with the natural world. Emily and Valancourt quickly
fall in love.
Emily's father succumbs to a long illness. Emily, now orphaned, is
sent to live with her aunt, Madame Cheron (later known as Madame
Montoni), who shares none of her interests and shows her little
affection. Madame Cheron marries Montoni, the villain of the story.
Montoni brings Madame Montoni and Emily to Udolpho (thereby
separating Emily from her suitor Valancourt), where Montoni
threatens Madame with violence in order to force her to sign over her
properties in Toulouse "Tholouse", which upon her death would
otherwise go to Emily. Many frightening but coincidental events
happen within the castle, and in the end, Emily takes control of her
property and is reunited with
From The Mysteries of Udolpho, 227-8
From this sublime scene the travellers continued to ascend among the pines, till
they entered a narrow pass of the mountains, which shut out every feature of the
distant country, and, in its stead, exhibited only tremendous crags, impending
over the road, where no vestige of humanity, or even of vegetation, appeared,
except here and there the trunk and scathed branches of an oak, that hung nearly
headlong from the rock, into which its strong roots had fastened...
The gateway before her, leading into the courts, was of gigantic size, and was
defended by two round towers, crowned by overhanging turrets, embattled,
where, instead of banners, now waved long grass and wild plants, that had taken
root among the mouldering stones, and which seemed to sigh, as the breeze
rolled pas, over the desolation around them. The towers were united by a curtain,
pierced and embattled also, below which appeared the pointed arch of an huge
portcullis, surmounting the gates: from these, the walls of the ramparts extended
to other towers, overlooking the precipice, whose shattered outline, appearing on
a gleam, that lingered in the west, told of the ravages of war. Beyond these all was
lost in the obscurity of evening.
While Emily gazed with awe upon the scene, footsteps were heard within the
gates, and the undrawing of bolts; after which an ancient servant of the castle
appeared, forcing back the huge folds of the portal, to admit his lord. As the
carriage-wheels rolled heavily under the portcullis, Emily's heart sunk, and she
seemed as if she was going into her prison; the gloomy court, into which she
passed, served to confirm the idea, and her imagination, ever awake to
circumstance, suggested even more terrors, than her reason could justify.