Fourth Edition, November 2011
ENL 258: Best Essays in Literary Analysis
1st Place Winner
Reason Versus Passion:
An Analysis of the Representation of Logic and Emotion
in Antony and Cleopatra and Charlotte Temple
Josh Martin
“Thrice-nobler than myself, thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros have by their brave instruction got upon me a nobleness in record. But I will be a bridegroom in my death, and run into’t as to a lover’s bed. Come then; and, Eros, thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus… [falls on his sword] I learned of thee.” –Antony (IV.xiv.95-102)
“Even now imagination paints the scene, when, torn by contending passions, when, struggling between love and duty, you fainted in my arms, and I lifted you into the chaise: I see the agony of your mind…” –Montraville to Charlotte (101)
Antony and Cleopatra and Charlotte Temple both have exaggerated, ludicrous portrayals of emotion. Antony’s speech is regularly split by moments of rage; during a tirade at Cleopatra, the love of his life, he calls her a “triple-turned whore” (IV.xii.13). Charlotte Temple is rife with weeping (every character in the novel sheds a tear at least once), beseeching-on-knees, and general outbursts of “love forever.” But both novels have scenes and characters that balance this negative portrayal of emotion with an equally unfavorable representation of reason. Antony believes his death will regain his lost nobility and logic, but ironically his suicide is an act of passion that confirms his loss of reason. While Antony’s suicide scene represents reason and passion as polar and incompatible, Mr. Temple’s character is the balance of reason and passion that reflects a sentimental dislike of Classical Stoicism.
Philo’s derisive opening lines illustrate Antony’s struggle with his emotions. Philo clearly believes there is a link between Antony’s loss of reason and his indulgent passions. He characterizes Antony’s relationship with Cleopatra as “dotage”; while this word can mean excessive love, dotage also describes the senility as a result of old age (I.i.1-9). The military imagery in the following lines further illustrates his criticism of Antony. Philo laments that Antony, a capable general and tactical genius (“his goodly eyes… have glowed like plated Mars”), turned his eyes and “captain’s heart” from the battlefield to a “tawny front.”
Antony’s first appearance confirms Philo’s fears; his actions and speech are temperamental and imprudent. When a Roman messenger interrupts Antony and Cleopatra’s flirtation, Cleopatra must convince the irritated Antony to hear the message. In response, he declares “Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch of the ranged empire fall!,” hardly the responsible answer of a Roman Triumvir (I.i.33-34). Antony ultimately ignores his duty and decides to “wander the streets” with his lover.
When Enobarbus finally delivers the message from Rome to Antony, responsibility comes crashing down on Antony’s Egyptian paradise and he begins to display hints of the tactical reasoning Philo believed was lost. Antony bemoans the “ten thousand harms” caused by his “idleness” following news of his wife Fulvia’s rebellion and subsequent death (I.ii.129-131). Gone is the flowery language during his conversations with Cleopatra; Antony reverts to the compact, commanding, and well-structured sentences of his Roman counterparts (“No more light answers. Let our officers have notice what we purpose. I shall break the cause of our expedience to the queen and get her leave to part”) (I.ii.178-181).
When Antony returns to Rome, Caesar confronts Antony, who skillfully defends himself and eventually forges a “brotherly” peace with his fellow Triumvir (II.ii.153). Underneath the rhetoric, however, Antony’s decision-making is questionable. Caesar knows full well of Antony’s “lascivious wassails” with Cleopatra, yet Antony agrees to marry Caesar’s sister Octavia, a sister whom Caesar confesses to love dearly (I.iv.56). None of the other Romans believe Antony will remain faithful to Octavia, even the coldly logical Enobarbus (“Never; he will not… other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies”) (II.ii.240-243). While Antony’s smooth rhetoric appears to be a shrewd political move, the level of risk greatly outweighs the rewards of maintaining the already divided and weak triumvirate. Despite a resolute stance, Antony jumps far too quickly on a jeopardous decision.
Antony’s resolve doesn’t take long to show signs of wear. Antony daringly (foolishly?) brings up his moral “blemishes” to Octavia in the silently intimidating presence of Caesar (II.iii.4-8). Antony’s language remains formal, and includes several military images (“report,” “square,” and “rule”), but his allusion to Cleopatra during his first meaningful exchange with Octavia is foolhardy. Similarly, Antony betrays himself when speaking with the soothsayer. The soothsayer warns Antony away from battle with Caesar and advises him to return to Egypt, which Antony quickly agrees is “true” (II.iii.33-41). While the soothsayer believed Antony should “space” himself from Caesar to avoid fraying their relationship, Antony uses the soothsayer’s advice as an excuse to return to his “pleasure.” For the first time since returning to Rome, Antony’s language truly betrays his intentions; rather than returning to Egypt for political reasons, he is sating his heart’s desires.
The conflict between logic and passion heightens during Antony’s conflict with Caesar. Antony
again demonstrates outright irrational moments, including the decision to fight Caesar by sea on a “dare,” despite the warnings of the soothsayer, Canidius, Enobarbus, and even a regular soldier (III.vii.29). After Cleopatra’s fleet abandons him during the subsequent battle, Antony abandons his army to follow her. Antony again suffers a moment of regret, lamenting his “offended reputation” and “most unnoble swerving” (III.xi.48-49). Antony’s passions win over, however, when he asks Cleopatra for a kiss, for “even this repays [him]” (70-71). By now, Antony cannot separate his reason from his love for Cleopatra, and despite the cool, commanding delivery of instructions on the battlefield, the decisions themselves reveal poor reasoning and the pressure of his emotions.
The evidence builds a compelling dilemma when reading Antony’s suicide scene. Antony seems profoundly moved by the suicide of Eros, and he again muses over his lost “nobility” (IV.xiv.95-102). Antony yearns for a return to his Roman, logical nobility, as symbolized by the fallen Eros. He refers to himself as a “scholar,” or student, to Eros, who “teachest me… what I should [know].” Yet Antony’s language undermines his supposed epiphany once again. Even while dreaming of a return to “noble” reason, he cannot help but compare his fall to “running into a lover’s bed.” The ironic name of Eros also puts a complicated spin on his plea; Eros was the Greek god of sexual love and beauty. In this sense, Antony begs his “love” to kill him, and he fools himself, as he fooled himself throughout the play, into believing his passions are the reasonable path to follow.
Like Antony and Cleopatra, reckless passion is often equated with a lack of reason in Charlotte Temple; while nearly every character in the novel demonstrates impulsive, rash emotions, Montraville exemplifies a character who possesses a good heart, but allows his recklessness to rule over his reason. Montraville is described as “generous and good-natured… yet eager and impetuous” (36). Rowson believes his rashness is a flaw in his passion, a sentiment reflected by Montraville’s father, who warns him not to let “thoughtlessness” ruin his marriage (40). However, Good-hearted though he might be, Montraville is consistently deceived by his eyes. When Montraville first beholds the figure of Charlotte Temple, his “devilish heart” is smitten (4). When Charlotte leaves the scene, Montraville chastises himself for letting his emotions carry him away, but her reappearance is enough for him to lose control of his reason again. Montraville is not the only character with this problem: Charlotte becomes weak-willed under the gaze of Montraville, whose eyes were described by Charlotte as the “most expressive” she’d ever seen (29). In fact, Rowson believes soldiers have this general effect on women; during one of her interruptions in the narrative, Rowson warns her readers about the power of simply seeing a dashing, young soldier in uniform (25). Montraville is merely one of many characters who repeatedly lose control of their emotions when seeing the opposite sex, and this lack of control contributes to his rashness.
Montraville’s lack of control is never more apparent than following the death of Charlotte. Montraville is “tortured almost to madness” while tracing the path of Charlotte, and he remains in a “state of insensibility” and “obstinate delirium” even after exacting revenge on the traitorous Belcour (128, 130). Rowson’s choice of words reflects the madness that comes with his undisciplined emotions.
The emotions of Mr. Temple, while no less intense, vary significantly from those of Montraville. A philanthropic and kind-hearted gentleman, with a well-established house and occupation, Mr. Temple is “tremblingly alive to feelings of humanity,” while remaining the most level-headed character in the novel (11). Confronted with the highly emotional dilemma of Mr. Eldridge and his daughter, Mr. Temple allows himself to mourn for their loss, but his thoughts are occupied by strategies to relieve the family of their debts. Mr. Temple is the one character not swayed by the sight of his future lover; although he finds her beautiful, he doesn’t acknowledge his true feelings until his father accuses him of using Mr. Eldridge to win Lucy’s hand (17). Even after admitting he loves Lucy, Mr. Temple’s first thoughts are whether his “fortune” is enough to financially support Lucy properly. When Charlotte abandons the family, Mr. Temple remains remarkably subdued at first (“Neither tear nor sigh escaped him; and he sat the image of mute sorrow”) (54). Again, he eventually indulges his grief, but only after consoling his devastated wife and preaching patience. The death of his only daughter doesn’t change Mr. Temple, either. He refuses to strike the “rash, young” Montraville, even though the man was responsible for Charlotte’s seduction and death (129). Even the destitute and depraved Mademoiselle La Rue (Mrs. Crayton) receives his pity in the conclusion; Mr. Temple’s noble “impulse” is towards compassion, not passion, and this compassion distinguishes his emotions from Montraville and other characters influencing Charlotte (131).
Charlotte Temple is “torn by conflicting passions,” and her demise actually raises troubling questions about which passion “wins”: the reckless passion represented by Montraville or the compassion of Mr. Temple (101). The influence of her father is noticeable from the beginning, particularly Charlotte’s emphasis on maintaining her “propriety.” When Montraville first approaches Charlotte, she claims that, while Montraville is “agreeable,” her studies are too important to abandon (28). The sight of Montraville betrays her reason, however, and the influence of Montraville’s eager advances begin a metaphorical tug-of-war between Charlotte’s “discretion” and “inclination” (44). Charlotte decides, in a “triumph of reason over inclination,” to meet Montraville one final time and deny his request to leave England, but Charlotte’s reason is actually compassion. Charlotte cannot contemplate simply leaving Montraville behind and breaking his heart; her reasoning is always guided by a good-natured heart. A similar “manner of reasoning” guides Charlotte’s heart when she convinces herself Montraville’s farewell note is well-intentioned (76). Mrs. Beauchamp describes this connection of heart and mind perfectly when she first sees Charlotte (“But surely her mind is not depraved. The goodness of her heart is depicted in her ingenuous countenance”) (66). Unfortunately, Charlotte is unable to overcome the “thoughtless passion” represented by Montraville; Charlotte’s compassion cannot save her.
Susanna Rowson’s depiction of reason is different from Shakespeare’s, and it reflects the culture of their respective times. Reason and passion are two different species to Shakespeare; emotions corrupt logic. Rowson’s logic is emotional: the reason of the mind is never separate from the heart. Antony was unable to balance his love for Cleopatra and duty towards Rome; Charlotte was “torn by contending passions,” her passion and compassion, in her struggle between “love and duty” (101). But Mr. Temple represents a character more sensible than sentimental, a character more sensitive to reason while remaining empathic (Murfin, 469). Mr. Temple’s sensibility may not completely succeed amongst a novel of exaggerated characters with inflated emotions, but his character represents what Antony failed to realize: reason can coincide with emotion.
Works Cited
Murfin, Ross C., and Supryia M. Ray. The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms. 3rd ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2009. Print.
Rowson, Susanna. Charlotte Temple. Charlotte Temple ; And, Lucy Temple. New York, N.Y., U.S.A.: Penguin, 1991. 1-132. Print.
Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra. Ed. Barbara Everett. New York: Signet Classic, 1998. Print.