Chapter One discussed how the maternal gaze used folkloric and socio-medical discourses to travel through the works of Le Fanu and Stoker who codified their texts as maternal with vagina dentata, birthmarks, cats, hands and wombs. These archetypal Gothic symbols weave an iconographic web of the womb and vagina, the birthplace and conduit of the maternal gaze, and their omnipresence casts the genre as an inherently maternal arena within which patriarchal anxieties of origin are created and expressed. In these writers’ works, womb-spaces are penetrated and excavated by the masculine need to explore, control and disavow the nihilistic threat of the maternal body. Part Two continues these themes of invasion and surveillance by considering Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw (1898) and its filmic intertexts The Others, directed by Alejandro Amenábar (2001) and The Orphanage, directed by J.A. Bayona (2007), to demonstrate how the maternal gaze exploits the conflict created between discourses of the supernatural and the psychological to create its own regime of maternal surveillance.
As Shoshana Felman discusses, The Turn of the Screw provokes endless critical responses which attempt to decode the events which lead to Miles’ death. The apparitionist vs. non-apparitionist muddle in which critics find themselves is demonstrated by the various turns of Edmund Wilson, who in 1948 partially retracted his original contention that the governess ‘is a neurotic case of sex repression’ (1934: 102), after Robert Heilman’s
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argument in 1947 against Wilson’s Freudian reading which emphasised the governess’
detailed description of the ghoulish Quint despite never having seen him, contending ‘there can be no firmer dramatic evidence of the objectivity of the apparition’ (433, 437). Having conceded Heilman’s point, in 1959 Wilson turned again, publishing an addendum to his previous revision after John Silver suggested in 1957 that the governess may have imagined Quint in such detail due to having heard descriptions from external sources (see M.
Slaughter for a comprehensive overview). From Wilson’s flustered responses we can see that the effect of James’ tale is precisely its resistance to being decoded, and this futile preoccupation with divining a finite, empirical truth distracts both reader and critic from the governess’ actions, which result in the unarguable fact that the text ends with the death of a child at her hands in loco parentis. The Turn of the Screw, The Others and The Orphanage are all littered with the bodies of children who died under the care of a mother/figure, and I want to offer an interpretation of these texts which exposes, rather than occludes, the infanticidal actions of the governess in James’ novella and her counterparts in the film.
The etymology of the spectral vocabulary - ‘spectre’, from the Latin spectare and specere - ‘to look at’, ‘phantom’, from the Greek phos - ‘light’, and ‘apparition’ from the Latin apparere - ‘to come forth’ – paradoxically implies that there is something to be seen (Dani Cavallaro: 75). This implication problematises the ontological givens of presence and absence, seen and unseen, which underpin the empiricism of the male gaze limited to the visual register, a problem which has subsequently characterised scholarship that has futilely sought visual proof of the ghosts. Consequently, my concern with The Turn of the Screw and its intertexts is not to engage with this problem and argue either an apparitionist or
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psychosexual reading, but to expose the infanticidal maternal gaze which exploits both potential interpretations to incite readings and responses which are more concerned with disproving one another in an exchange of critical one-upmanship than identifying the governess’ culpability. Taking my lead from the psychoanalytical critical heritage which understands the text as a document of the governess’ Oedipal hysteria, I demonstrate how the hysteria presented by the mother-figures in The Turn of the Screw and its adaptations is rooted to a deeper and more fraught attachment and traumatic separation from their own mother, a trauma which, as I showed in Chapter One, ignites the maternal gaze and prompts it to travel between Gothic texts in search of the child.
This chapter demonstrates that these mother-figures, under the masquerade of selfless maternal benevolence, subvert institutional modes of surveillance, medical scrutiny, and narrative and architectural structures associated with the Oedipal hysteria diagnosis to convert the patriarchal domain into the womb-space wherein the child is fatally consumed.
In The Turn of the Screw, the governess exploits the diagnostic models of nineteenth-century medical discourses of hysteria to create her own maternal hysterical narrative in which her visions form a spectral panopticon that transforms the paternal household at Bly into Luna’s ‘maternally internalised scopic field’ where paternal interference is prohibited (5).
The figure of the infanticidal maternal caregiver reappears in The Orphanage, as Laura returns to the orphanage of her own motherless childhood and collects sick and dying children to care for there, presenting a masquerade of maternal sacrifice which I show echoes the symptoms of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, where the mother purposely makes her child ill in order to attract attention and sympathy from the medical profession.
Finally, The Others reveals how the maternal gaze has succeeded in capturing the child and
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reinstalling it back into the womb. With the revelation that the Stewart family are already dead, the film becomes an example of the inevitable nihilism which attends any sustained entry back into the maternal visual realm, and the children’s photosensitivity is revealed as their mother’s hysterical fantasy which traps them in the house and exposes them to the gaze of the womb.
As I show, all three texts engage in a dialogue concerned with the maternal gaze’s commandeering and exploitation of patriarchal medical knowledge, which is deployed duplicitously to forge a persona of the maternal martyr, a smokescreen for her infanticidal maternal gaze.
‘We’ll see it out’: The Turn of the Screw and the Hysterical Panopticon
The Turn of the Screw as a story of infanticide plays the potential readings of the hysteria and supernatural narratives off against one another to weave a web of confusion in which to trap the child, the narrators and the reader, and as Wilson has suggested, James himself.
Elements of both the spectral and the psychological converge to enable the maternal gaze to smother and reclaim the child, and I show how the governess exploits the notion of hysteria-as-performance through her visions and the breakdown of the masculine frame narratives to mimic the incoherent and unreliable nature of hysteria case studies. Eschewing the phallocentric Freudian interpretation of hysteria which privileges the notion of a psychosis rooted in the Oedipal dynamic, I return to the classical diagnosis, which diagnosed hysteria as a symptom of the barren womb wandering around the body in search of a child, to show how the governess exploits Freudian expectations and performs hysteria through her unreliable narration of her hallucinations-as-spectral visions, and so rearticulates her
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psychosis as one born out of a desire not for the father but the child, a psychosis which simultaneously echoes the trauma of her own maternal loss.
It is precisely the impossibility of divining an empirical ‘truth’ from the text, either spectral or hysterical, which enables the governess to resist our attempts to decode her and powers the maternal gaze to haunt beyond the end of the story. The confusion which saturates the text and its critical responses obscures the governess’ true raison d'être, to claim a child for her empty gazing womb, and it is this she triumphs in, as the text concludes with her smothering Miles in her deadly embrace:
With the stroke of the loss I was so proud of he uttered the cry of a creature hurled over an abyss, and the grasp with which I recovered him might have been that of catching him in his fall. I caught him, yes, I held him – it may be imagined with what passion; but at the end of a minute I began to feel what it truly was that I held. We were alone with the quiet day, and his little heart, dispossessed, had stopped. (266)
Evoking the classically Gothic (maternal) abyss which swallows its victims whole, the governess maintains her masquerade of maternal benevolence to the last as she describes this murder scene in terms of saving Miles from the spirit of Quint who possessed him, and who she banished from the child’s body, along with his heartbeat. With the death of Miles, the little gentleman, the last vestiges of the patriarchal line at Bly have been killed off, and while Flora is spared the same fate her mistreatment at the hands of the governess becomes the childhood trauma which condemns her to become the next hysteric.
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Oscar Cargill suggests that James’ sister Alice James’s own experiences of neurasthenia ‘strongly tempted him to exploit the extraordinary dramatic possibilities of her disease’, and that he overlapped the governess’ hysteria narrative with the supernatural element in order to disguise his inspiration (238). James was surrounded by hysteria, and his novella appeared three years after Freud and Breuer’s Studies on Hysteria (1895), and both texts display symptoms of the fin de siècle anxiety surrounding female repressed desires and their eruption into the social order. As Elaine Showalter and other ‘hysterians’ have shown, although Freud, like Jean-Martin Charcot before him, did not explicitly pathologise hysteria as a female preserve, that the large majority of his patients were female served as implicitly empirical ‘proof’ that women were more susceptible to the disorder than men. Hysteria was not simply a medical diagnosis but also a model of patriarchal social control, implemented by a male medical gaze which pored over the female body like a text to be read.
Such specious statistics served to bolster Victorian psychiatric opinion that women were more vulnerable to insanity than men due to the instability of their reproductive and nervous systems, and so theories of ‘reflex insanity’ were ‘specifically and confidently linked to the biological crises of the female life-cycle – puberty, pregnancy, childbirth, menopause – during which the mind would be weakened and symptoms of insanity might emerge’
(Showalter 1985: 55). A sense of biological inevitability pervades these theories, as women were viewed as ‘the victim[s] of periodicity’ (Horatio Storer in Showalter, ibid.), and doctors exacted pressure on their patients to perform in a certain way to conform to their expectations of hysteria. It is this very pressure to perform, to be hysterical, which the governess exploits to mobilise her maternal gaze and possess the children.
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Following the aftermath of the World Wars and more recently the Gulf War, psychoanalytic and feminist scholarship shifted the diagnostics of hysteria to include male sufferers who exhibited symptoms of a psychosomatic response to the trauma of warfare.
However, as Julia Borossa and Showalter observe about cases diagnosed in the First World War, although soldiers exhibited similar symptoms to those of the female hysteric, male patients were understood culturally to be suffering from shellshock (later renamed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), a term popularised by the work of C.S. Mayers and W.H.R.
Rivers (Borossa: 62, Showalter 1985: 174). Consequently, while hysteria as a psychiatric diagnosis was superseded in the inter-war years by less heavily-loaded terms such as
‘psychosomatic’ and ‘conversion disorder’, in the cultural consciousness it remains gendered as feminine, and the term continues to be an insult waged against excessively emotional, melodramatic women.
Subsequently, post-structuralist and feminist scholarship has subverted the gendering of hysteria by commandeering the hysteric as a rebellious heroine. French feminists including Luce Irigaray and Hélène Cixous have rewritten hysteria through écriture féminine, a feminine libidinal textual economy which inscribes the desires of the unconscious and undermines phallocentric binary thought and language and the primacy of the phallus in the Oedipal aetiology of hysteria. This female body of writing emphasises non-linear, cyclical narratives which embody female desire, recalling the pleasures taken in the maternal body before its disavowal occasioned by the child’s entry into the paternal contract, and draws on the girl’s originary pre-Oedipal attachment to the mother which Freud eventually conceded in ‘Femininity’ in 1933. Through the concept of écriture féminine linear patriarchal structures of temporal and spatial narrative form and control are
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undermined, and hysteria becomes a linguistic weapon with which to upturn and invert the monolithic realist narrative structure which has canonically stood as an affirmation of patriarchal social and cultural values. Consequently, The Turn of the Screw becomes a feminine text, both in content and structure, which defies the realism of its Jamesian heritage and undercuts the Law-of-the-Father as represented by Symbolic language upon which realism is precariously predicated.
The Hysterical Precedent
The epistemology of hysteria fashioned the condition as a female preserve by locating its origins in the female reproductive system, and its name derives from the Greek hysteron, meaning womb. In classical philosophy the womb was considered a volatile organ which if left empty would migrate around the body in search of a child, as Plato surmised in the Timaeus:
A woman’s womb [...] is a living thing within her with a desire for childbearing. Now when this remains unfruitful for an unreasonably long period of time it is extremely frustrated and travels everywhere up and down her body. It blocks up her respiratory passages, and by not allowing her to breathe, throws her into extreme emergencies, and visits all sorts of other illnesses upon her. (1290c)
The bereft womb rebels against the body which has failed to satiate it with its desired state of pregnancy, and the illnesses it compels were translated as symptoms of hysteria, with
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respiratory ailments termed ‘suffocation of the mother’ (Harold Merskey and Susan Merskey). The disease was bound to the maternal body, and when anatomists conceded that the womb did not wander, hysteria was relocated to the nervous system, causing women to be branded the nervous sex, or alternatively their hysteria was eroticised and attributed to nymphomania (Showalter 1997: 15).
Yet, although the epistemology of hysteria is born of ‘the troubled womb’ (Juliet Mitchell 2000: 11), from the seventeenth century it was predominantly linked to the brain and recast as a neurological condition, and by the nineteenth century diagnoses had moved away from the womb’s role to favour the notion of a traumatic event, the impact of which manifested as hysterical symptoms through the (female) body. Charcot, a neurologist, subscribed to this idea of hysteria originating from the nervous system and diagnosed it as a disease which was caused by either a hereditary defect or a traumatic wound to the central nervous system. Freud, who studied under Charcot, continued with this idea of past trauma, but a psychical rather than physiological one. Initially he postulated the Seduction Theory, which proposed that hysteria stemmed from a traumatic sexual experience in childhood, usually paternal abuse. Both problematic and implausible, Freud retracted this theory and attributed hysteria to the eruptions of the Oedipal desires in the conscious mind of the patient. An equally suspicious concept which attributes blame to the patient for desiring her father and wishing to have his baby, Freud’s reformulation of hysteria, for many feminists, only reinforces the gendering of the condition as an exclusively female malady rooted in the dysfunctional heterosexual desires of the female reproductive system (for an excellent overview of Freud’s Oedipal thinking see Bennett Simon and Rachel Blas (1991)). Lacan’s understanding of female hysteria is similarly dissatisfying, constellating the subject’s
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sexuality as a lack which she must mediate through the figure of the father and his phallus, condemning her to serve the paternal metaphor which dictates her being, as the hysteric’s desire is only ‘to sustain the desire of the father’ (1964: 38).
In its classical etymology hysteria was symptomatic of the bereft, lamenting womb wandering around the body, but with the advent of the psychoanalytical gaze intent on commandeering the female body the condition was refashioned as the response to a trauma rooted to the all-powerful father. Re-constellating hysteria as a response to the daughter’s repressed Oedipus complex, Freud and Breuer fathered an idea in which they themselves became embroiled, as their patients Dora and Anna O. experienced hysterical pregnancies with the paternity of the phantom babies attributed to their respective analysts which attested to their virility, analytical and otherwise (Mitchell 2000: 67, 68). Contemporaneous to Studies on Hysteria, the governess’ ghosts in The Turn of the Screw ostensibly symptomatise these repressed Oedipal tensions, but I want to return to the classical diagnosis to show how she is only concerned with capturing the orphaned children and reinstalling them into the womb-space, as she ostracises the uncle, the father of the text, and commandeers Bly, transforming it into a space of maternal panopticism controlled by her gaze and what it sees, or not, as the case may be.
‘Something like madness’: Performing Hysteria
Like the imprinting womb, the hysteric’s body became a site of contention for the male medical gaze which demanded it be regulated through regimes of diagnosis and surveillance, to which the patient must submit to be cured. At la Salpêtrière hospital under
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Charcot’s ‘scrutinising eyes [...] deeply set in the shadow of their own orbits’ (Alexandre Souques, in Showalter 1997: 31), patients were required to ‘perform’ for a voyeuristic medical gaze and were sketched and photographed (Showalter 1985: 152-4; see also Georges Didi-Huberman). Patients also had to exhibit their symptoms in twice-weekly performances of diagnosis when Charcot would circumscribe them with his expert medical opinion (Showalter 1997: 31; see also Brant Wenegrat). This lecture/demonstration/freak show echoed the regimes of voyeuristic spectatorship inmates of Bethlem psychiatric hospital were subjected to in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when members of the public would pay a penny to ‘observe’ patients (Franz Alexander and Sheldon Selesnick: 114).
Charcot’s patients were rendered exhibits through his desire to diagnose, and this economy of hysterical submission and dominant surveillance was confirmed by his bribing of patients to act up their hysteria for a more captivating performance, as Georges Didi-Huberman explains how ‘every hysteric had to make a regular show of her orthodox
“hysterical nature’’ [...] to avoid being transferred to the severe “division’’ of the quite simple and so-called incurable “alienated women’’’ (170-171). This notion of performance is extrapolated by Irigaray who argues that hysteria functioned as a simulacrum of female sexuality, which the hysteric had to mime through the masculine mode in order to retain a semblance of her own desire. The hysteric must filter herself through the ‘specular logic of patriarchy’, the masculine diagnostic discourse which privileges the Oedipal model as structuring unconscious drives and desires, in order to survive patriarchy (Toril Moi: 134).
“hysterical nature’’ [...] to avoid being transferred to the severe “division’’ of the quite simple and so-called incurable “alienated women’’’ (170-171). This notion of performance is extrapolated by Irigaray who argues that hysteria functioned as a simulacrum of female sexuality, which the hysteric had to mime through the masculine mode in order to retain a semblance of her own desire. The hysteric must filter herself through the ‘specular logic of patriarchy’, the masculine diagnostic discourse which privileges the Oedipal model as structuring unconscious drives and desires, in order to survive patriarchy (Toril Moi: 134).