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| Painting by John Skinner Prout from MFA Educators Online |
One of the more distressing negative depictions of Catholicism centers on the character of the Abate. Despite his profession as a man of God and his distinction as a religious leader, he is proud, stubborn, cruel, petty, and unforgiving. Radcliffe describes him as “stern and unfeeling,” and refers to “the malignant passions of his nature” (Radcliffe 128; 132-3). It is through the Abate, in particular, that A Sicilian Romance ties Catholicism to patriarchy and dually (and duly) criticizes both power structures.
A natural affinity between the church and the more nefarious, power-hungry men in the story is already evident when the Duke de Luovo stops at a monastery on his quest to reclaim Julia. The Superior and his intoxicated associates are only too happy to practice “the accommodating principles of monastic religion” by providing luxurious food and shelter (Radcliffe 90). However, the Abate demonstrates that even when the church is in apparent conflict with the aims of patriarchal authority, their similar methods and motivations reveal their essential equivalence. Although the Abate and the Marquis are in opposition on the issue of Julia’s release from the convent, the two men are well-matched in pride, cruelty, and willingness to manipulate Julia as a pawn in a power play. The story indicates that using religion to gain power (like the Abate) and trying to assert man’s power over that of God (like the Marquis) are two sides of the same, reprehensible coin. Abuse of power, especially to abuse women, leads to a disconnect from God, virtue, and spirituality.
In contrast, the women in the story seem to find a more genuine spiritual connection. Louisa Bernini relies deeply on her religious beliefs to tolerate her imprisonment at the hands of her husband, and Radcliffe makes it clear that, unlike the Abate, Louisa’s faith is not an affectation for the purpose of gaining power. Her prayers are uttered “with that affecting eloquence which true piety inspires” (Radcliffe 182). Similarly, Madame de Menon’s obviously genuine belief in the protection of God allays her fears of possible ghosts. Later in the story, her faith is strengthened through meditation on the sublimity of nature: “the scene inspired madame with reverential awe, and her thoughts involuntarily rose ‘from Nature up to Nature’s God’” (Radcliffe 104). Radcliffe seems to grant these personal experiences and interpretations of faith more legitimacy than the religion mediated by the authority of the Catholic Church.
(On a sidenote, I can’t help picturing Madame de Menon communing with nature like Maria in the beginning of The Sound of Music. The background of her song is very picturesque—and perhaps a little sublime—and the subsequent disapproval of Mother Superior provides a nice example of contrast between church restrictions on religion and a freer, more personal connection to God.)
Our heroine Julia even stands up to church authority (with her indignant speech to the Abate on page 132), but she presumably remains in good standing with true religious authority (i.e. God). She clearly believes defiance of earthly religious representatives does not hinder her own connection to God, as she subsequently posits that divine providence led her to rescue her mother. Furthermore, she is the shining example of the moral at the end of the story, one of “those who do only THAT WHICH IS RIGHT” and “from trials well endured derive the surest claim to the protection of heaven” (Radcliffe 199).
What these ladies have in common is their faith in spite of their oppressed conditions, drawing on nature and personal prayer outside the power structure of the church. On the one hand, Radcliffe is reflecting the prevailing Protestant sentiment of the day. But could this also be faith because of their oppression? Alison Milbank touches on this in relation to the sublime in her “Introduction,” writing, “It is experience of the feminine situation of confinement and powerlessness, whether in mansion or cave, that allows a movement to the transcendent. In this way the divine is refigured in a way that will admit some correspondence between the female and itself” (Radcliffe xxvii). What do you think: is the female characters’ powerlessness intentionally written to leave space for God’s power? Is Radcliffe showing that lack of (political, social, personal) power creates openness or facilitates connection to a higher power?
Radcliffe, Ann. A Sicilian Romance. New York: Oxford U P, 2008. Print.
