De Quincey’s first interrogation into the beauty and art behind violence argues the importance of this secluded world existing. This is deployed in numerous ways in this passage, from the natural power of the "immeasurable gulf" that disturbs the ebb and flow of human life, to the man-made evocations of the caging "recess" that shields the murder. In some ways, this is later echoed in the "storm-flight" of the horses in associating threats of accidental violence with nature; yet, for De Quincey, the real power and intensity comes from hand-crafted violence such as murder, and this must be elevated to a supernatural realm in order to exist and be appreciated. The transgressions that De Quincey lovingly details cannot be contained in the "ordinary
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The prospect of Mary’s murder perfecting and rounding the crime implies the murder is a workable substance like clay which can be moulded, furthering the links between the artist and the murderer. As Maniquis observes, “murderer and interpreter are frighteningly similar” (125) in De Quincey’s works, and this is showcased most explicitly in this moment, with De Quincey’s narrator and Williams becoming inextricably tangled. The close identification with his taboo subject is further demonstrated through a letter from De Quincey to his publisher, in which he recollects a sleepless night creating the premise of The Confessions of a Murderer (McGuire 15) – just as his Confessions of an English Opium Eater (1821) is an autobiography of addiction, despite its anonymous publication, so too would these Confessions draw upon his violent impulses and their roots in his childhood. The confessional narrative is designed to offer freedom in exploring social taboos, and De Quincey certainly projected his own personal grievances onto his …show more content…
The emphasis on “the back of [Marr’s] head fully exposed” is a personal agitation, even as he situates himself in the murderer’s perspective to admire the beauty of the exposed head. Through examining the base of his personal fears and discovering an abject fascination with the strength of “one solitary blow” and Marr’s “stunned” response, De Quincey suffers an overwhelming sensation of guilt that permeates throughout his entire writing. The guilt is one of conflicted enjoyment: his aesthetic appreciation is juxtaposed with a sense of misplaced responsibility which he explores in Mary and the journeyman, and De Quincey fears that his delight in the extreme violence he recounts will be discovered. Therefore, in his depiction of the journeyman, De Quincey emphasises his heroic endeavours to escape in order to save the Williamson’s granddaughter, when accounts of the murders suggest the journeyman had forgotten the young girl was even in the residence (Barrell, Hydrophobia 77). De Quincey’s enduring childhood preoccupation with death is most prominently studied in the essays which explore unsolvable violence – rather than having a neat
The prospect of Mary’s murder perfecting and rounding the crime implies the murder is a workable substance like clay which can be moulded, furthering the links between the artist and the murderer. As Maniquis observes, “murderer and interpreter are frighteningly similar” (125) in De Quincey’s works, and this is showcased most explicitly in this moment, with De Quincey’s narrator and Williams becoming inextricably tangled. The close identification with his taboo subject is further demonstrated through a letter from De Quincey to his publisher, in which he recollects a sleepless night creating the premise of The Confessions of a Murderer (McGuire 15) – just as his Confessions of an English Opium Eater (1821) is an autobiography of addiction, despite its anonymous publication, so too would these Confessions draw upon his violent impulses and their roots in his childhood. The confessional narrative is designed to offer freedom in exploring social taboos, and De Quincey certainly projected his own personal grievances onto his …show more content…
The emphasis on “the back of [Marr’s] head fully exposed” is a personal agitation, even as he situates himself in the murderer’s perspective to admire the beauty of the exposed head. Through examining the base of his personal fears and discovering an abject fascination with the strength of “one solitary blow” and Marr’s “stunned” response, De Quincey suffers an overwhelming sensation of guilt that permeates throughout his entire writing. The guilt is one of conflicted enjoyment: his aesthetic appreciation is juxtaposed with a sense of misplaced responsibility which he explores in Mary and the journeyman, and De Quincey fears that his delight in the extreme violence he recounts will be discovered. Therefore, in his depiction of the journeyman, De Quincey emphasises his heroic endeavours to escape in order to save the Williamson’s granddaughter, when accounts of the murders suggest the journeyman had forgotten the young girl was even in the residence (Barrell, Hydrophobia 77). De Quincey’s enduring childhood preoccupation with death is most prominently studied in the essays which explore unsolvable violence – rather than having a neat