Zofloya or The Moor (Oxford World's Classics)

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Mellor, 'Interracial Sexual Desire in Charlotte Dacre's Zofloya', European Romantic Review, 13.2 (2002), 169-73 (p. 173). Robert Knox, Races of Men: a Philosophical Enquiry into the Influence of Race over the Destinies of Nations (London: Renshaw, 1850), p. 456. The perpetrator of domestic ruin can therefore either be Victoria or Berenza. There has been critical contention about the patriarchal undertones of the text, and more specifically, whether Berenza fits the portrait of an oppressive patriarchal figure. Adrianna Craciun argues that Dacre deviates from the female-gothic tradition in representing the 'central institution of marriage' as a 'nightmare' and 'compact with the devil'.24 Conversely, Carol Margaret Davison views marriage in the novel as an 'equal opportunity enslaver' and Berenza as a victim of Victoria's cruelty.25 Though Berenza does not fit the portrait of the Radcliffian patriarchal villain, as he does not imprison or attempt to rape Victoria, he does not represent an image of mild and benevolent masculinity either. 26 On the contrary, he adopts the position of a domineering male figure whose willingness to relinquish status, in marriage to a woman of compromised sexual worth, remains dependent on her corresponding willingness to forgo autonomy. Berenza's acceptance of Victoria remains conditional on her ability to conform to a normative gender role, an identity that requires her to become docile, maternal, and sacrificial.

Michele Cohen, Fashioning Masculinity: National Identity and Language in the Eighteenth Century (Routledge: London, 1996), pp. 1-13. Notable among these is George Walker’s novel The Vagabond (1799), which recycles the report that Toussaint’s troop had employed, as their standard, a white infant impaled on a spear. I recommend this if you like Gothic novels and not to too many others... even then there is not enough Sublime (Edmund Burke) to make this worth much. However, Nicholson does not assert the novel to be a morality tale, proclaiming it as a mere "performance" of Dacre's imagination. [3] The introduction to this edition, the first for nearly 200 years, examines why Zofloya deserves to be read alongside established Gothic classics as the highly original work of an intriguing and unconventional writer.s novels present villainous father figures who imprison heroines in dark castles in attempts to either rape them or steal their property. Alternatively, she presents benevolent forms of masculinity and nurturing fathers in contrast to villainous patriarchy. The story itself is not too complex, somewhat like a telenovela, has a lot of drama, sex and violence. My only problem in this department is the fact that the last few chapters are rather lukewarm compared to the events before. Being bored/annoyed by the last part, it makes me remember the entire book less fondly, even if I had a good time with it. We discussed Dacre’s motivations for this and where her political sensibilities may have lain, although were unable to reach consensus. Scholars have also debated this point. Long Hoeveler highlights the ‘racist’ and ‘xenophobic’ themes of the novel, arguing that it should be seen as part of a wider Colonial project. [17] For example, the novel can be read as highlighting the perceived threat to England from outsiders through the devastation caused by Zofloya. However, as Nayar asserts, the real threat to English domesticity in the novel comes not from Zofloya but from both Victoria, and her mother, because they followed their own desires. And Nayar is keen to highlight that Victoria is not merely seduced by the Moor, rather she is following her own ‘quest for sexual agency.’ [18]

Dunn, James (December 1998). "Charlotte Dacre and the Feminization of Violence". Nineteenth-Century Literature. Berkley, California: University of California Press. 53 (3): 309. doi: 10.2307/2903042. JSTOR 2903042. Leonardo di Loredani: son of Laurina and the Marchese, a year older than his sister Victoria, he is "unable to resist, in any shape, the temptations of his heart". He runs away from home when his mother leaves the family, and eventually is lost entirely to the power of his mistress Megalena. Berenza's death makes Henriquez suspicious. He begins to despise Victoria. In a moment of panic, Victoria confesses her love to Henriquez. He is harsh and cruel to her, but then realises that she was the wife of his brother, and he should contain his hatred for her. All the characters and their connecting stories come together in this final scene, and their unfortunate pasts surface. Leonardo and Megalena kill themselves, and Victoria is filled with guilt for all her past actions. She turns to Zofloya to tell him about her guilt, and instead of comforting her, he unmasks himself, thus revealing his hideous nature inside and out. He declares that he is Satan, and had tempted and used Victoria repeatedly. Victoria then gets annihilated by the Devil.

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An assassin enters the home of Victoria and Berenza at night. He attempts to stab Berenza in his sleep, but Victoria awakens and defends her lover by taking the dagger in her arm instead. The assassin flees, and Berenza awakens, shaken. He is impressed by Victoria's action and no longer questions her love for him. Victoria decides not to tell Berenza that she noticed that her long-lost brother, Leonardo, was the assassin. Berenza's insistence on only receiving care from his wife complements and gives free rein to the femme fatale's sadistic will. However, she achieves her end by enacting the role of sacrificial wife-mother, a vision of purity that Berenza consumes, like Lewis's monk's consumption of the portrait of Madonna. Maternal femininity is, moreover, here subject to the male gaze, as Berenza pleads, "'[o]h my love, whether have you been? I have been wishing for my tender nurse to make me a glass of lemonade'" (p. 169). Though his body diminishes from illness caused by Zofloya's poison, the more nurturing attention Victoria provides, the more 'his appetite [...] increase[s] even to ravenousness' (p. 171). Berenza's consumption of maternal femininity manifests a role reversal in which he becomes a victim of Victoria and Zofloya's agenda, degenerating from a rational figure to an enfeebled idolater. As the progeny of an adulterous mother, Victoria must, in the logic of the gothic mode, sacrifice her own blood to prove her worth. Though her virginal purity is compromised as Berenza's mistress, the spilling of blood and act of sacrifice redeems female virtue for both generations. Victoria's sense of worth, however, is wounded after learning that Berenza's offer of marriage is conditional: we are told that 'pride ha[d] always kept her from surmising the struggles of Berenza upon her subject, and that he had not till this period offered to become her husband, because till this period he had deemed her unworthy to become his wife' (p. 126 emphasis in original). Zofloya is a text that invites conflicting interpretations, constructing a space for critique while articulating conventional gender codes. Despite what is depicted as her misplaced pride, for she is a fallen woman, Victoria is nonetheless portrayed as a victim of patriarchal abuse, as she discovers her worth is conditional on her willingness to sacrifice her own life for his. Upon discovering Berenza's false love, Victoria finds that she is seen as possessing no intrinsic worth, and therefore, has no real sexual power. Rather, she becomes enslaved in marriage, as it is the only outlet in which she can be 'afford[ed] [...] protection' (p. 134). Necessity dictates her decision to marry Berenza as a compromised woman, first marred by maternal sin and later dependent on patriarchal authority. Signora Zappi: wife of signor Zappi, part of the first household that Leonardo runs away to. She falls in love with Leonardo, even though he loves her daughter. When she realises her love will never be returned, she frames Leonardo for rape. Henriquez: brother of Berenza. His heart belongs to Lilla. Victoria's love for him leads to many treacherous events. He despises Victoria.

The influential English critic and politician Edmund Burke opposed the French Revolution. He sought to differentiate Britain from France in cautioning citizens to uphold and preserve the nation's roots and identity rather than demolish longstanding class structures. See Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France, ed. by L. G. Mitchell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993).Critics have given considerable attention to the enigmatic figure of Zofloya. Sara Schotland explores Zofloya's significance within the context of bourgeois ambivalence toward British imperialism.31 Zofloya can also be viewed as a manifestation of Victoria's subconscious, for he appears in her dreams before he takes on an actively demonic and transgressive role in the narrative. David Sigler devotes a chapter to Zofloya, arguing that the text is not a 'consolidation of subjectivity, but, rather, about its dismantling'.32 His book examines 'the scrupulous management of sexual enjoyment' in eighteenth-century discourse, and argues that 'Zofloya is a masochist, and he fashions Victoria into the picture of cruelty for the purposes of preserving her and filling her with perverse jouissance'.33 George Haggerty, Craciun, and Mellor all focus on both Zofloya and Victoria, examining their interracial, transgressive desire and the ways in which Victoria becomes consumed by Zofloya's sublime presence. Nevertheless, despite these useful and varied interpretations, critics have not explored the ways in which Dacre interweaves the subversive desires of Victoria, Zofloya, and Berenza, characters whose identities are exaggerated by gender and racial categories.34 Consequently, Zofloya portrays masquerade and disguise as an act of commodification, for while the raced body becomes an object of sublime pleasure, the maternal body becomes an object of male consumption. As Hoeveler claims, Victoria and Zofloya perform an act of revenge in poisoning Berenza, demonstrating the threat of the 'alliance' between 'dispossessed subject populations working together, recognizing their mutual alienation and objectification and banding as one in a maniacal and deadly pursuit of the great white father and his property'.35 However, the text examines this violence and retributive justice in scenes of desire in which patriarchal dependency and narcissism are exposed, while monstrous femininity is empowered by the art of masquerade.