2) The Transformation of Gothic Libertinism: From Romanticism, Victorianism and Post-Millennial Fiction- Chapter One: Zofloya, or the Moor

‘Few venture far as thou hast ventured in the alarming paths of sin.’[1]

Charlotte Dacre occupied a unique position within the Gothic canon, as one of the few female writers who engaged in publishing such explicit ‘unabashedly libidinous’ and overtly libertine novels.[2] Angela Carter notes that, prior to writers such as Dacre, the libertine genre remained an ‘enemy of women’ with its hyper-violence and misogynistic scenes of rape and murder. Zofloya; or, the Moor (1806) became the first libertine text to grant women ‘absolute sexual license’, replacing the sexually libertine man with a woman.[3] When Zofloya; or, the Moor was originally published, much akin to The Monk, it was met with moral outrage, labelled as obscene and pornographic in content, whilst the novel’s libertine themes regarding sexuality, gender and inter-racial relationships were only rendered even more outrageous when penned from the hand of a female, one who ‘appear[s] to approve’ of her sinful characters.[4] I will initiate this discussion by commenting on and analysing Dacre’s novel as a work of libertine fiction, in relation to sexuality and gender, following this with an in-depth discussion of Dacre’s racial libertinism.

Dacre’s use of characterisation between her two female characters, the ‘blooming’ young Lilla and the ‘revengeful and cruel’ Victoria, subverts the stereotypical libertine traditions regarding female characters.[5] Whilst libertine texts are usually largely inaccessible to women, due to the positions their female characters occupy as solely victims, Dacre’s authority as a female writer enables her to create a novel which ’takes [libertinism] even further than [De Sade’s] Juliette’, whilst also retaining a space for female readers to enjoy the novel.[6] The majority of female characters within libertine fiction remain solely in the role of the stereotypical Gothic virgin, who is relentlessly raped and tortured, a mere object utilised for the enjoyment of the male libertine. These victims remain devoid of individuality and are easily interchangeable for one another, the only few exceptions to this being the female victims of De Sade’s libertine novels, such as the eponymous Justine in Justine; or the Misfortunes of Virtue, or Juliette in Juliette; the 120 Days of Sodom. Zofloya; or, the Moor is unique, however, due to Dacre’s ability to split these two female traits, creating the traditionally libertine victim Lilla, whilst also granting female readers a voice via the ‘corrupt nature’ of Victoria, a woman who initiates much of the sexual and violent scenes within the novel.[7] Will Mcmorran notes that ‘the sense of a Sadeian influence is most striking in the novel’s juxtaposition of female embodiments of vice and virtue’, as exhibited in the lust-driven Victoria and the untainted Lilla.[8] Lilla is an orphaned, twelve year-old child, who is the beautiful, sexually ignorant victim. Her mistreatment only increases as the story progresses, resulting in her ‘wild and horrible’, uncomfortably eroticised demise at the hands of another female, rather than the usually male libertine.[9] As the sinful femme fatale, Victoria desires nothing more than to destroy Lilla for interfering with her lustful desires. As a submissive female who evokes a sexual desire within libertine villains, Lilla’s character serves no purpose other than titillating other characters ‘in proximity to the pornographic’.[10] In contrast, through the character of Victoria female readers are finally subject to a ‘lust-driven’ anti-hero who is just as sinful as her male counterparts and ‘unaccustomed to subdue[ing] herself’, but grants contemporary female readers a voice through which they can express their own forbidden desires.[11] Dacre’s ‘deadly hatred’ of Radcliffean heroines, such as Lilla, is made abundantly clear as Victoria herself embodies Dacre’s own feelings and desires.[12] John Phillips notes that religion also ‘exists as an object of hatred’ for libertines, and religion and Lilla are mutually exclusive concepts, both despised brutally, as Lilla is frequently depicted as holy and angelic.[13] Victoria’s overt and all-consuming hatred of Lilla, who James Dunn describes as an ‘unformed wisp of girlish virtue’, is a hatred of this ‘false feminine ideal’ which men of the nineteenth century were so desperate to bed, whilst these men simultaneously shunned all females who freely expressed their desires for sex.[14] Dacre herself could be considered somewhat libertine, remaining as a mistress to the already-married Nicholas Byrne in 1806, siring three illegitimate children, until finally marrying him in 1815. Her 1807 novel, The Libertine, also echoed Sadeian philosophies with its depiction of its heroine Gabrielle and her affair with a man named Angelo. In libertine novels, those who do not fight and resist are weak and subject to inevitable punishment, and Lilla’s weakness renders her subject to Victoria’s villainy, as Victoria gazes upon her ‘with the eyes of a basilisk’, a very unfeminine description for a very unfeminine and dangerous woman.[15] Dacre’s determination to prove the futility of Lilla’s empty, ‘feeble’ character can be recognised from the initial descriptions of Lilla’s arrival;[16]

Pure, innocent, free from even the smallest taint of a corrupt thought, was her mind; delicate, symmetrical, and of a fairy-like beauty, her person so small […] expressing a seraphic serenity of soul, seemed her angelic countenance, slightly suffused with the palest hue of the virgin rose.[17]

The emphasis on Lilla as anti-libertine and the ultimate example of conformity is referenced in every adjective utilised in her description as ‘pure [and] innocent’, free from all corruption, whilst her ‘fairy-like beauty’ strongly contrasts the ‘ravenous’ and ‘dark’ appearance of Victoria, the use of colour carrying heavily biblical connotations.[18] The anti-religious themes pervading libertine fiction also are heavily emphasised in Lilla’s characterisation, as religious imagery is frequently utilised by Dacre to accentuate the ‘seraphic’ beauty of Lilla.[19] Additionally, Victoria depicts Lilla’s resemblance to the ‘virgin rose’ as a negative feature, something usually considered to be a positive trait, except to the corrupt libertine.[20] However, in a libertine society, this only further foreshadows Lilla’s inevitable destruction. Victoria similarly shows contempt for Christianity, as Victoria dreams of Lilla and Henriquez in a ‘beautiful and luxurious garden’ strongly resembling the Garden of Eden, somewhere Victoria cannot access due to her myriad of sins.[21] Victoria instead allies with the ‘gigantic, and hideous’ Satan, destroying both these Christian characters in a blatant libertine act against God.[22] Religion, to Dacre, is akin to the patriarchy, confining Lilla to behave in a certain manner and follow strict regulations, something the libertine Victoria need not do. Arguably, Dacre’s attitudes towards such innocent characters is much harsher and violent than those of the infamous libertine De Sade, as in De Sade’s novels he attempts to convert his victims into libertines, whereas Dacre’s immediate recourse is to destroy all who oppose her ideals in a ‘tumult of her passion’.[23] In De Sade’s 1795 essay La Philosopie dans le Boudoir, the various rapists and sexual deviants attempt, and sometimes succeed, in transforming the religious, untainted women to join the throngs of perverts and nymphomaniacs. Dacre does not allow this option for Victoria’s rival, instead Victoria undergoing multiple attempts to violently murder Lilla, and not before torturing her in ‘dreadful confinement’ for several days.[24]

Victoria herself begins the novel also conforming to society’s dictates before being converted into a libertine by the ‘attract[ive]’ Zofloya.[25] In the novel’s introduction Victoria is described as having a ‘propensity for evil’, however, this is never unleashed until Zofloya’s ‘incremental seduction’ takes hold, turning ‘the established Female Gothic recipe on its head’ with such a subversive anti-hero.[26] Dacre does, however, depict this as a positive change, as the Victoria which we witness in the novel’s beginning, and throughout her marriage to Berenza, is very comparable to miserable Sadeian victims. Victoria moves home repeatedly, subject to relentless acts of torture and cruelty, not dissimilar to De Sade’s Justine, and as her infatuation with Berenza grows, Berenza is cool and disinterested in her, refusing to marry her. Indeed, he only changes his mind when she no longer serves as a degradation to his social standing, ‘exhibit[ing] her on the laguna, amid thousands of gay Venetians.’[27] Berenza’s depiction of Victoria as a ‘graceful antelope’ reflects her original role as the innocent virgin, as it alludes to the Greek God Diana, who kept antelopes which serve as a symbol of innocence.[28] As a non-libertine, ‘fixed in [her] gentility’, Victoria’s suffering at the beginning of the novel is not as brutal as those of other libertine victims.[29] However, she is acutely aware of her own dissatisfaction in life and yearns to change it. This essentially labels her as libertine for merely wishing to do what she pleases, a forbidden ideal in a patriarchal nineteenth century. Henriquez, as a conforming non-libertine, is disgusted by Victoria’s new philosophy, as is made clear when he contrasts her with her double, Lilla. Following Victoria’s confession of love towards Henriquez he becomes acutely aware of her libertine, undesirable features;

[Lilla’s] gentle sweetness, her sylph-like fragile form, were to him incomparable […] Victoria he viewed with almost absolute dislike;- her strong though noble features, her dignified carriage, her authoritative tone- her boldness, her insensibility, her violence, all struck him with instinctive horror, so utterly opposite to the gentle Lilla.[30]

Victoria’s ‘masculine spirit’, connoting power and strength usually attributed solely to the male, is inherently undesirable in the nineteenth-century woman who is instead meant to embody everything that Lilla symbolises.[31] Dacre utilises Henriquez’s extensive adjectives to depict just how ridiculous male expectations of women are, with their ‘fragile’, weak forms and unrealistic ‘sylph-like’ bodies.[32] Sylphs do not exist and the contrast between these strong, magical creatures and Henriquez’s depiction of Lilla as ‘fragile’ is used intentionally to portray how ridiculous these male desires are for women to embody.[33] As a libertine Victoria no longer needs to repress her sexual desires, a significantly freeing feeling for women in an era where Nancy Cott notes that ‘modesty was the quintessential female virtue’.[34] Even in De Sade’s novels, the women of the novels rarely experience sexual desires, with the exception of those such as the thief Dubois in Justine; or, the Misfortunes of Virtue, reflecting that Dacre’s use of a female libertine protagonist was innovative and ground-breaking in its bold assertions of female desires. After the ‘Godlessness’ of the French Revolution the Evangelicals denoted that sex should be enacted for reproduction purposes only, with the introduction of the Holiness movement based upon the doctrines of John Wesley. This placed an emphasis on sex as a desexualised duty for man and wife, a taboo Dacre fearlessly breaks in her novel.[35] Victoria’s emphasis on the physical and erotic sensation foreshadows the Victorian era’s concept of the sexual degenerate, an idea which develops and grows in popularity in the Victorian period.

Victoria’s ‘savage’, libertine characterisation also places her under the medical category of the female hysteric or nymphomaniac, a dangerous and frequently-prescribed state for women in the nineteenth century who presented themselves as anything but asexual.[36] Women, alongside some men who experienced desire in the extreme, were imprisoned in asylums for exhibiting such desires, much like De Sade, whose own nymphomania led to his imprisonment in the Bastille for 10 years. Jonathan Dollimore notes that for women in the Romantic period, a ‘perfectly humane, guilt-free eroticism [is] to be impossible’, as reflected in how Victoria unhealthily copes with her own desires.[37] Based upon the contemporary symptoms of the hysteric, Victoria exhibits most of the symptoms including hot flushes, heart palpitations and swelling, as she increases in size. Her frequent fits of rage as she ‘tore by handfuls, the hair from her head’ and drowns in ‘horrible images that possessed her brain’ are also attributable to her overwhelming sexual hysterics.[38] Other more explicit symptoms doctors noted included a long clitoris, overly moist vagina and overstimulated genital nerves. Almost any symptom could be largely applied to female hysteria making the risk of imprisonment very likely and a real threat for women who dared express their ‘wishes so consuming’.[39] Dacre’s novels also discuss this, such as her 1805 novel Confessions of the Nun of St. Omer, which heavily follows the form of De Sade’s libertine novels, entwining overt sexual scenes with length philosophical debates between Cazire and her lover, regarding societal problems and ‘a rejection of the moral authority of the Church, particularly its role in legitimising sexual relations’, which was considered ‘distinctly anti-religious’ and also placed under heavy scrutiny.[40]

Zofloya; or, the Moor also excels beyond earlier libertine novels in its depiction of a woman murdering and torturing another woman in order to obtain the man she lusts after. Victoria kills four people in her murderous spree, more people than Lewis’s monstrous Ambrosio or many of De Sade’s libertine villains ever murder. Victoria also adopts a masculine persona in order to re-enact the, essentially masculine, libertine lifestyle, refusing to be a ‘passive creature, destined for martyrdom’.[41] Victoria’s masculinity and ‘violent […] disposition’ enables her to possess the power she needs to be successful in her quest to have sexual intercourse with Henriquez.  Her overt sexuality also renders her a polyamorous ‘infidel’, as she engages in erotic relationships with Berenza, Henriquez and Zofloya.[42] D. L. Hoeveler notes that any woman ‘who would sexually pursue not simply one man […] is a woman who has to be full of the devil’, perhaps full of the devil also in a very sexual sense, as well as spiritual.[43] Similarly, her violent murder of Lilla is metaphorically and symbolically erotic, as Victoria penetrates and ravages the innocent orphan, with a poignard that evokes metaphorical images of a phallus;

Seized by her streaming tresses the fragile Lilla, and held her back.-With her poignard she stabbed her in the bosom, in the shoulder, and other parts: – the expiring Lilla sank upon her knees.-Victoria pursued her blows-she covered her fair body with innumerable wounds, then dashed her headlong over the edge of a steep.[44]

 Victoria does not just penetrate the unyielding Lilla once, she rapes her repeatedly in every orifice, ‘violently’ and without remit until Lilla ‘expir[es].’[45] This metaphorical sex change into the masculine is another example of Dacre’s bold, pioneering libertine ideas what many writers were hesitant to discuss, other than De Sade himself. De Sade’s Les 120 Journées briefly touches upon the subject of transvestitism, as a perverse, paedophilic libertine ‘sheared off the prick and balls, using a red hot iron [before] hollow[ing] out a cunt in the place formerly occupied by his genitals.’[46] Durand in De Sade’s Juliette also embodies a form of ambiguous androgyny, her vagina being completely sealed, causing her to describe herself as having ‘all nature at [her] order’ and having complete control over the gender she chooses to be.[47] In Female Masculinity, Judith Halberstam notes that females adopt masculine roles in order to gain a symbolic phallus, which in turn also ‘conjures up notions of power and legitimacy’, behaviour Victoria clearly exhibits in order to get what she wants.[48] Victoria herself wanted to feel less helpless as a woman and her solution was the libertine lifestyle, which can only be gained through the transformation into the masculine, so Victoria can sexually dominate the feminine, ‘lovely’ Henriquez.[49] Dacre does, indeed, seem somewhat fascinated with transvestitism, dressing her heroine in The Libertine, Gabrielle, as the masculine Eugene. The male characters of Zofloya; or, the Moor also undergo sex changes of their own. In transforming Victoria into a bold, libertine woman, the male characters such as Berenza and Henriquez are rendered feminine and fragile, mirroring those heroines of Radcliffe’s Female Gothic romances, such as The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794) or The Romance of the Forest (1791), who are sexually innocent and submissive. Henriquez, especially, as Victoria’s source of desire, is raped and then dies as he is penetrated by his sword, a tragic and violent, but typically feminine Gothic death, heavily resembling Antonia’s demise in The Monk. Laura Mulvey’s theory of the Male Gaze is also utilised, again subverting the traditional Gothic libertines use of the gaze upon female characters, and instead emphasising this focus upon the men of the novel. Dacre’s use of men also as victims strongly subverts all prior Gothic novels, where even men who do not engage in licentious behaviour still prosper solely due to their gender. The female libertines in the novel, such as Victoria, Megalena Strozzi and Madame de Loredani are undoubtedly villainous, ‘devouring [and] diseased’, but also victims of repression and the patriarchy, unable to healthily convey their forbidden desires.[50] In order for them to be able to prosper they all must undergo metaphorical sex changes to gain the power that solely men possessed in the eighteenth century.

Whilst undergoing her masculinisation it is also notable that Victoria also changes in colour, her features growing ‘dark and ferocious’ with the ‘blackest guilt’ as she grows increasingly sinful, which carries heavily racial connotations.[51] Indeed, Dacre’s novel goes much further than the libertine novels prior to it, in what Sara Shotland describes as its ‘obsession about intercourse between black men and white women’ in an era where such interrelations were deeply controversial.[52] Victoria, whilst also becoming dark and evil, happens to engage in an erotic relationship with a ‘beautiful and majestic’ black man who, coincidentally, is also revealed to be Satan himself. Dacre depicts this change within Victoria’s racial identity and her shift from a white to a black lover as a positive shift, one where Victoria finally feels happy in a union.[53] Their inter-racial relationship remains undeniably erotic, whilst other novels of the era never before had touched upon issues of race, depicting libertine obscenities strictly between white individuals. Dacre’s use of racial libertinism violates the immense contemporary interracial taboo, portraying Victoria’s insatiable lust towards Zofloya, a man who is perceived due to his race as hypersexualised and ‘treated as [a] spectacle’, similar to William Shakespeare’s eponymous Othello.[54] Anti-religious messages essential to the libertine novel also become overtly bold, as Victoria’s consummation with Satan is the ultimate anti-religious propaganda, as she admits to him having ‘attractest [her] irresistibly’.[55] The power struggle between Victoria and Zofloya, who converts her into a Gothic libertine, was ‘written against the backdrop of slave rebellion’, hinting at the inevitable colonial rebellion Dacre feared at the time of writing the novel.[56] Zofloya’s description of himself as ‘unworthy slave’ and Victoria as an ‘enterprising female’ abruptly shifts, into Victoria becoming the ‘menial slave’ to his all-consuming, demonic powers.[57] Dacre was ‘well aware’ of the contemporary slave uprisings taking place, such as the Saint Domingue uprisings of 1791-1795 and the Grenada Revolts of 1795, and Zofloya himself is successful in his own revolt as he successfully kills all the white characters in the novel, he alone prospering by the novels conclusion.[58]

Dacre’s descriptions of the Moor are eroticised throughout the novel, and only grow less reserved as the story progresses. Victoria’s perceives Zofloya as highly more desirable than Henriquez, the man whom she apparently desires above all else. Where Henriquez is only briefly described as ‘benevolent’ and ‘strong’, paragraphs of dedicated description reflect Victoria’s libertine desires for the Moor, beginning instantly from her very first dream involving him;[59]

She beheld advancing a Moor, of a noble and majestic form. He was clad in a habit of white and gold […] sparkled with emeralds […] he wore a collar of gold round his throat […] Victoria contemplated this figure with an inexplicable awe.’[60]

Victoria’s desires for Zofloya, unlike those for Berenza, are motivated by romantic notions that are so stereotypical of feminine characters, rather than simply lust, something remarkably uncharacteristic of a libertine protagonist. However, due to Zofloya’s innate controversial identity as both a black man and Satan, this normalisation of the unacceptable as a desirable husband for Victoria allows the novel to become even further blasphemous as it suggests women are truly happy by surrendering themselves to Satan, body and soul. This further reflects the emerging contemporary idea of the black man as a corrupting, libertine force on the originally angelic and conforming white woman. Dacre’s novel The Libertine also reflects this, as Gabrielle loves a libertine who is socially unacceptable, falling pregnant under his machinations. Victoria openly enters upon quasi-marriage vows with Satan, an unusual thing for her to accept considering her immediate unhappiness when marrying Berenza, and how she describes her ‘incapability’ towards feeling any desire to marry Henriquez.[61] Victoria’s declarations that she will ‘unequivocally give [her]self to [Satan], heart, and body, and soul’ completely juxtapose the passionless affection she feels towards the white, and non-libertine, men of the novel.[62] Victoria feels marriage to be akin to slavery, however, when pledged to Zofloya her role as a slave is blissful. Now that Zofloya has converted Victoria into a libertine her submission is akin to a sadomasochistic fetish, and it pleases her to be misused by this ‘sworn enemy of all created nature’, something truly horrifying for contemporary readers to comprehend.[63] Victoria’s dreams also reflect her libertine desires for Zofloya, as he ‘haunt[s] her dreams’ every night.[64] Utilising Freud’s theory on the unconscious in dreams, as discussed in his 1899 text The Interpretation of Dreams, dreams are a place in which one can ‘satisfy wishes excited during the day which remain unrealised’.[65] Zofloya is so forbidden even Victoria, as a libertine, struggles to articulate her desires. Zofloya becomes a nightmare for Victoria, as even in her newly libertine state she fears transgressing such a bold line by forming an erotic relationship with him. Zofloya is also immensely sexually capable, as shown by his over sexualisation, unlike the white men of the novel. Berenza is ‘unfitted’ to sexually satisfy Victoria, whilst Henriquez appears to be as inexperienced and innocent as a Radcliffean heroine.[66] Victoria’s libertine desires can only be satisfied by the sexually adept Zofloya, as he is characterised by the fearful white community of contemporary England. Dacre’s use of veiling also only further ‘fetishi[zes]’ the black man, as Satan remains under a ‘gaudy’ disguise as the Moor.[67] In the Gothic, disguise is a commonly used trope which is often utilised to veil the sexually attractive. In Lewis’s libertine novel The Monk, the first chapter begins with Don Lorenzo desiring to remove Antonia’s veil to reveal her beautiful ‘Seraph’s head’, whilst Rosario removes his guise to reveal himself to be the seductress, Matilda, who then almost immediately engages in sexual relations with Ambrosio.[68] In Zofloya; or, the Moor, this trend suggests that Zofloya’s disguising of his ‘terrible’ satanic nature only renders him increasingly more erotic to the immoral Victoria.[69] The rendering of Satan as the ultimate sexual symbol is incredibly anti-religious, and further supports the essential libertine message of ’futility of a belief in God or divine providence’, showcasing Dacre’s bold dedication to delivering the libertine message. [70]

Gothic libertines of the eighteenth century, including Lewis’s Ambrosio, and Dacre’s Victoria and Zofloya are all exceedingly explicit and immoral, unapologetically so. Dacre is acutely aware that Satan ‘under the semblance of the Moorish slave’ is the most unacceptable figure for a white woman to desire, thereby making Zofloya; or, the Moor a transgressive Gothic libertine novel.[71] The bold characterisations of Lilla and Victoria, embodying the true desires of nineteenth-century women in a patriarchal society, and the false sexual ideals that men project onto women, were also abashedly libertine, conforming ‘neither to the usual masculine Romantic images of women […] nor to counter-ideology of feminine Romanticism’ that so saturated nineteenth-century novels.[72] Dacre unabashedly uses ‘revolutionary rhetoric’ in the Gothic genre to discuss and break multiple social taboos, embodying libertine ideas with brutal results, making the novel truly memorable, intriguing and unapologetically daring.[73]


Part one | Part three

[1] Charlotte, Dacre, Zofloya; or, the Moor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 267.

[2] James A., Dunn, ‘Charlotte Dacre and the Feminisation of Violence’, Nineteenth-Century Literature, 53:3: (1998), 307.

[3] Angela, Carter, The Sadeian Woman: An Exercise in Cultural History (London: Virago, 1990), pp. 20, 19.

[4] Kim, Ian Michasiw, ‘Introduction’ in Zofloya; or, the Moor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. xiv.

[5] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 144, 4.

[6] Piya, Pal-Lapinski, ‘Dangerous Pleasures: Halian Vampire-Courtesans and Male Odalisques in British Fiction, 1800-1850’ in The Exotic Woman in Nineteenth-Century British Fiction: A Reconsideration (Lebanon: UPNE, 2005), p. 27.

[7] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 14.

[8] Will, Mcmorran, ‘The Marquis De Sade in English, 1800-1850’, The Modern Language Review, 112:3: (2017), 552.

[9] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 178.

[10] Anne, Williams, Art of Darkness: A Poetics of Gothic (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), p. 104.

[11] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 149, 132.

[12] D.L., Hoeveler, ‘Charlotte Dacre’s Zofloya: A Case Study in Miscegenation as Sexual and Racial Nausea’, European Romantic Review, 8:2: (1997), 188.

[13] John, Phillips, ‘Sade and Transcendence’ in Sade: The Libertine Novels (London: Pluto Press, 2001), p. 149.

[14] Dunn, ‘Charlotte Dacre and the Feminisation of Violence’, pp. 313, 314.

[15] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 158.

[16] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 225.

[17] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 133-4.

[18] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 134, 194.

[19] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 176.

[20] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 166.

[21] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 135.

[22] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 267.

[23] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 196.

[24] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 209.

[25] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 199.

[26] Carol, Margaret Davison, ‘Female Gothic Reconfigurations’ in History of the Gothic (Wales: University of Wales Press, 2009), pp. 152, 153.

[27] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 128.

[28] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 76.

[29] Kim, Ian Michasiw, ‘Introduction’ in Zofloya, p. xv.

[30] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 194.

[31] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 189.

[32] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 171.

[33] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 171.

[34] Nancy F., Cott, ‘Passionlessness: An Interpretation of Victorian Sexual Ideology, 1790-1850’, Signs, 4:2: (1978), 224.

[35] Cott, ‘Passionlessness’, p. 225.

[36] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 101.

[37] Jonathan, Dollimore, ‘Daemonic Desires’ in Sex, Literature and Censorship (London: Polity Press, 2001), p. 79.

[38] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 222, 135.

[39] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 149.

[40] Laura, Schwartz, ‘Freethought and Free Love? Marriage, Birth Control and Sexual Morality’ in Infidel Feminism: Secularism, Religion and Women’s Emancipation, England 1830-1914 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2013), pp. 178, 179.

[41] John, Phillips, ‘Virtuous Virgins and Lustful Libertines: Justine and Misfortunes of Beauty’ in Sade: The Libertine Novels (London: Polity Press, 2001), p. 89.

[42] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 14, 20.

[43] Hoeveler, ‘Charlotte Dacre’s Zofloya’, p. 189.

[44] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 226.

[45] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 226.

[46] De Sade, Marquis, ‘Les 120 Journées’ in Justine, La Philosophie dans le Boudoir and Other Writings (New York: Grove Press, 1994), p. 655-6.

[47]De Sade, Marquis, ‘Juliette’ in Justine, La Philosophie dans le Boudoir and Other Writings (New York: Grove Press, 1994), p. 538.

[48] Judith, Halberstam, Female Masculinity (Duke: Duke University Press, 1998), p. 2.

[49] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 134.

[50] Groneman, ‘Nymphomania’, p. 337.

[51] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 191, 201.

[52] Sara D., Shotland, ‘The Slave’s Revenge: The Terror in Charlotte Dacre’s Zofloya’, Western Journal of Black Studies, 33:2: (2009), 123.

[53] Dacre, Zofloya, p 234.

[54] Kim, Ian Michasiw, ‘Introduction’ in Zofloya, p. xx.

[55] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 199.

[56] Shotland, ‘The Slave’s Revenge’, p. 125.

[57] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 136, 237.

[58] Shotland, ‘The Slave’s Revenge’, p. 126.

[59] Dacre, Zofloya, pp. 129, 220.

[60] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 136.

[61] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 198.

[62] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 266.

[63] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 267.

[64] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 143.

[65] Sigmund, Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams (Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions, 1997), p. 35.

[66] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 77.

[67] Corinna, Wagner, ‘The Dream of a Transparent Body: Identity, Science and the Gothic Novel’, Gothic Studies, 14:1: (2012), 319.

[68] Matthew, Lewis, The Monk (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), p. 5.

[69] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 266.

[70] John, Phillips, ‘Introduction’ in Justine; or, the Misfortunes of Virtue (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), p. xix.

[71] Dacre, Zofloya, p. 267.

[72] Dunn, ‘Charlotte Dacre and the Feminisation of Violence’, p. 307.

[73]Nick, Groom, The Gothic: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), p. 86.

2 thoughts on “2) The Transformation of Gothic Libertinism: From Romanticism, Victorianism and Post-Millennial Fiction- Chapter One: Zofloya, or the Moor”

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