When one thinks of American Literature, a number of familiar visages form, among them being that of Twain, Hemmingway, Fitzgerald, and Poe. Truly, few authors have ever had such a profound effect on a nation’s literature as Edgar Allen Poe. With the standing exceptions of Bram Stocker, Mary Shelley, Emily Bronte, and Robert Louis Stevenson, none have ever advanced the horror genre as far as America’s favorite gothic author. From the eerie and brilliant poem, “The Raven” and the outright terrifying “Fall of the House of Usher” to the grim warning found in “The Masque of the Red Death,” Poe has always been able to weave chilling stories set against a moral backdrop to create one of the most unique ideals of terror, which continues to fascinate and inspire modern audiences and authors. His contributions are immeasurable as he renovated and customized a host of classifications such as horror, fantasy, and dark poetry while creating completely new ones like the detective novel. Along with providing America with her foremost Gothic writer, who could rival the masterful authors of European horror, Edgar Allen Poe is one of the most iconic examples of literary talent in American history.
One of the finest marks of Poe’s writing was his innovation in thoroughly exploring different styles and themes throughout his writings. While most of his predecessors are known for having focused solely on one style of horror, Poe experimented with new formulas for weaving unsettling tales. For instance, where Mary Shelley, one of the most gifted and popular of the pre-Poe Gothic/horror-style writers, focused on thoroughly forming her vision of science gone berserk, Poe varied his artistic vision to focus on a host of terrifying ideas, among them being the classic fear seen in “The Premature Burial (Poe 97),” the disturbing theme of a loved one brought back from the dead in a nightmarish reincarnation shown in “The Fall of the House of Usher (89),” or a chilling look into the twisted mind of a killer in “The Cask of Amontillado (117).” Continuing in the praise of Poe’s innovation, another famous horror author, H.P Lovecraft, once spoke of Poe, saying, “Before Poe, the bulk of weird writers had worked largely in the dark; without an understanding of the psychological basis of the horror appeal, and hampered by more or legs of conformity to certain empty literary conventions such as the happy ending, virtue rewarded and in general a hollow moral didacticism, acceptance of popular standards and values, and striving of the author to obtrude his own emotions into the story and take sides with the partisans of the majority’s artificial ideas (“Poe’s Literary Contributions”).” Though Poe did aspire to a great degree of “didacticism,” these lines ring true of Poe’s ability to spearhead literary efforts and plow the way for future authors, giving them a sound foundation on which to foster creativity and break with norms, continuing Poe’s rich legacy.
“There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are entirely too horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction. These the mere romanticist must eschew, if he do not wish to offend, or to disgust. They are with proprietary handled only when the severity and majesty of truth sanctify and sustain them. We thrill, for example, with the most intense of ‘pleasurable pains,’ over accounts of the passage of the Beresina, of the Earthquake of Lisbon, of the Plague at London, of the Massacre of St Bartholomew, or of the stifling of the hundred and twenty-three prisoners in the Black Hole at Calcutta (Poe 97),” so begins “The Premature Burial,” a work that stands out as one that showcases Poe’s dark brilliance. This short story, detailed with its writer’s luridly impressive descriptions, elaborates on what is perhaps the greatest terror known to the human mind. As Poe shows in the first paragraph, the premature burial is a concept not unfamiliar to man. Thus, instead of relying on his gift at innovation in horror, Poe instead shows a new side to his writing by taking a classic example of nightmare and making it his own, using excellent physical and emotional descriptions that bring their audience into the abject terror of the situation as seen in the following excerpt, “It may be asserted, without hesitation, that no event is so terribly well adapted to inspire the supremeness of bodily and of mental distress, as is burial before death. The unendurable oppression of the lungs-the stifling fumes of the damp earth-the clinging to the death garments-the rigid embrace of the narrow house-the blackness of absolute night-the silence like a sea that overwhelms-the unseen but palpable presence of the conqueror worm-these things, with the thoughts of the air and grass above, with the memory of dear friends who would fly to save us if but informed of our fate, and with a consciousness that of this fate they can never be informed-that our hopeless portion is that of the really dead-these considerations, I say, carry into the heart, which still palpitates, a degree of appalling and intolerable horror from which the most daring of imagination must recoil (Poe 100).” This passage reveals Poe’s unprecedented skill at description and breathes life into the work, lending an authenticity of both the mental and physical sensations that make the writing seem much more than simply escapist fiction, leading to one of his most defining strengths, that being his skill at making his stories evolve into exhilarating and emotional experiences in which he, through the narrative, takes control of the reader’s perception and psychological experience to illicit the desired effect, be it fear, shock, or relief.
Throughout the history of storytelling, there are a number of ideas that have been preserved through all manner of cultures and societies to claim their position in modern times, holding the same sway over their audience as they did thousands of years ago. Among these stands the morbid concept of the return of the dead. From Odysseus’ meetings with the deceased to the ghost of Hamlet’s father, the encounters with the departed are numerous in literature attaining a measure of eminence as a common theme in written works. Despite its pervasiveness, Poe exercised his extensive gifts and talents, refining the horror of such a situation to a point nearing perfection. In “The Fall of the House of Usher,” one of Poe’s most well known works, the supposed death of a loved one is proved wrong when she returns and deals her unmerciful judgment on the one who abandoned her as described in the following excerpt, “there did stand the lady Madeline of Usher. There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold-then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother (89).” Again, Poe’s descriptive adeptness triumphs as the gravity and suspense of the situation in the narrative reaches a screaming crescendo and seals the story’s conclusion in an abrupt manner. The influence of the aforementioned conclusion can be readily found in countless current examples of suspense and horror as authors and filmmakers aspire to the soaring heights that Poe achieved in “The Fall of the House of Usher.”
As opposed to the petrifying comeback of a supposedly dead sister in the case the previous work, “Ligeia” bends this theme to encompass the ideal of undying love (Poe 134). “Ligeia” steps beyond its counterparts to bring forward the timeless question of the limits of love as the narrator is found to be unnaturally obsessed with his beloved wife: a fixation not hampered by the grave (Poe 134). After the death of the narrator’s second wife (Poe 133), the protagonist sees what he believes to be his beloved Ligeia in a brilliant and captivating scene that ends with him writing, “Here then, at least,’ I shrieked aloud, ‘can I never-can I never be mistaken-these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes-of my lost love-of the lady-of the Lady Ligeia (134)!” In one of my journal entries, I hailed Poe’s incorporation of issues that he himself endured, problems that he had a certain intimate understanding of that was unprecedented, “The work has a realism about it that is sorely lacking in many other writings of this type. For instance, so much of this work is borrowed from Poe’s life as a number of sources point to Poe suffering from an addiction to Opium while his beloved wife died at a very young age, making the recurring themes in his works all the more authentic (Unger 1).” Perhaps this excerpt outlines the most important part of “Ligeia,” that being the fact that everything in the story could have happened as Ligeia’s return from the dead is strongly suggested to be a result of a combination of the narrator’s complete and all-consuming passion for his wife and a dependence on drugs (Poe 130), which begs the question, “Did Ligeia truly return?” The story leaves this unanswered, proposing one of Poe’s greatest unsolved mysteries as both sides have substantial evidence to justify their beliefs. On one hand there is Poe’s focus on the ethereal and spiritual in his other works, making the possibility of the protagonist’s fixation bringing about the correct circumstances for Ligeia’s reincarnation. However, the aforementioned opium addiction and Poe’s fascination with insanity makes an equally convincing argument, making this enigma one of Poe’s greatest techniques that leaves a host of possibilities open to the reader’s discretion. Whatever one’s opinion on “Ligeia,” it remains one of Poe’s greatest examples of fiction dealing with the living dead and is in possession of some of his finest trademarks of literary genius.
Finally, there are few things explored in the horror genre that hold such an unsettling fascination as the journey into the mind of a killer. Before Poe, the potential of a deeper strain of psychological horror was a resource yet untapped: an unknown idea of horror as other authors focused on the immediate mental dread of their stories as they relied on subdued castles filled with the bloodthirsty wives of an undead vampire (Stocker 43) or the darkness of subdued laboratories in which the dead were stitched together to make something that never should have been given breath (Shelley 40). There is something extremely unsettling about being told a story from the view of the villain that mesmerizes audiences in such a way as to be deserving of its own sub-genre. In these stories, the readers, accustomed to being given all their insights from the protagonist’s mind, have the complete opposite of their own convictions portrayed in the dark mentalities of the evil. The point of view of a wicked character who forcefully injects his own twisted thoughts and demands the empathy of his audience is simply too abnormal to accept at face value. Instead, each tale forces its reader to reconsider everything he believes, as forbidden questions of what is right and wrong are examined on a new level. Poe was indeed masterful at conjuring the mind of a villain in a ghoulish display of the macabre that perhaps possesses the most moving effect on its audience in the area of debased horror.
“True-nervous-very very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease has sharpened my senses- not dulled them. Above all of them was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily-how calmly I can tell you the whole story (Poe 124).” And thus begins the chilling tale of “The Telltale Heart.” Though Poe uses a very conservative technique in writing this story that minimizes its length, the tale’s vivid renditions are brought to life through the perspective of a murderer, the mental stability of whom remains in question for the entirety of the work. From his descriptions of the old man’s “eye that resembled that of a vulture (Poe 124),” to his love for his victim (124), an unsettling mixture is created to make a portrait of psychological horror that remains unprecedented. The story entails the grisly details of the narrator’s murder of the old man with whom he lodges, on account of the man’s raven-eye (124). After again arguing in favor of his sanity (Poe 124), the narrator outlines how he treated the man with greater kindness than ever before on the week preceding the killing, and then, after seven nights of peering into the room to view the sleeping man, he describes his elation on the eighth night in which he planned his crime, saying, “Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers- of my sagacity. I could scarcely conceal my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deed or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea (124).” Here, the reader, murderous chuckles echoing through his head, realizes the extent to which the narrator’s sanity has fallen and begins to realize the horror of the situation, following the path laid out by Poe for his audience. The mental suspense builds even further as after the narrator describes gazing into the vulture’s eye when he says, “I not have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?-now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier to courage (Poe 126).” The narrator’s hearing and subsequent projection of the beating of his own heart onto the old man seals the reader’s convictions of the storyteller’s rationality, making the terror of the tale focus on the growing instability of a mind instead of relying on the overused formula of flooding a story with fangs, blood, and gore. Instead, the narrator smothers the old man and hides his body beneath the floorboards in an action that is quickly brushed over in favor of a visit from the police (Poe 126). Though the narrator succeeds in convincing the officers of his innocence (Poe 126), the growing sound of his heart beat continues to build to a feverish pitch that prevents the storyteller from focusing on anything else (126), ultimately forcing him to confess all to the police and allow his sins to be known (127). Though the story is concluded, Poe’s magic continues as the reader, left with the perception of the protagonist’s insanity, feels the reverberating beat of the heart and the full grip of intensity as the story’s power possesses a definitive persistence that keeps its emotions and message with the audience long after the book’s closing.
Following this trend, “The Cask of Amontillado” once again assumes the point of view of a killer (Poe 113).” In this case though, the narrator is not so mentally unstable as his nervous, eye-obsessed counterpart, instead vying for the psyche of a cold calculating killer whose hatred for his foe is only matched by his ingenuity (Poe 113). One of most enamoring parts of the unnamed narrator’s mind is his motive in committing his gruesome crime. Though he justifies his actions saying, “The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat (Poe 113), it is never known specifically what medium can be credited for the birth of malevolent vendetta that the narrator harbors toward Fortunato. Further enriching the story, is the villain’s providing his own perverted view of justice, rationalizing his despicable actions through the employment of hyperbole in his language as seen his exaggerated claim of “the thousand injuries (Poe 113).” The portrayal of a self-righteous murderer whose true motives are revealed in his cruel method of “justice,” show a defining point in Poe’s writing as he continues his exploration of characterization to master so many different types of villainy. The story’s conclusion, in which the narrator chains Fortunato to a wall contained in a deep maze of catacombs shows that the main character’s motivation is, in fact, brought about by a bitter vendetta and a lust for revenge as he condemns his foe to a painful and prolonged end, a truth sealed as the last brick is set in place, burying Fortunato and ending the story with the narrator stating, “Against the masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half for a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat (Poe 117)!” This chilling use of another language, Latin being the one in this case, to speak the words “rest in peace” reinforces the ice-blooded heart of the narrator as there is no perceived regret or emotion over the atrocity committed as he instead uses the simple words often spoken by priests and loved ones over the dead in an emotionless tone that quietly lauds his ingenious machinations that brought about the end of his enemy.
With dark laboratories, shadowy castles, and upturned graveyards as staging, it’s clear that Poe’s European counterparts were in possession of a solid measure of skill when it came to designing their bleak settings. Despite having such intimidating rivals, Poe rose to the challenge and created some of the most chilling places in literary lore that echo his morbid genius as he stressed to no end the importance of forging convincing and engaging backdrops for his tales that evoked an exceptional mixture of feelings in the audience.
There are few opening paragraphs that place so much emphasis on the creation of a thematic environment as seen in “The Fall of the House of Usher (Poe 81).” “During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing along, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within the view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was- but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest images of the desolate or terrible (Poe 81).” This passage does an excellent job of encasing the complex mixture of feelings and sensations present in the first viewing of the dreary abode that is to be the place of all the subsequent action. One of most important traits of Poe’s surrounding elements is that his focus is not limited to the mere physical traits and visual cues; instead, he formed something that appealed to readers on all levels, be they physical, mental, or even spiritual (Poe 81). This is seen clearly in the preceding passage in which he not only describes the environment, the power of which could have easily survived on its own merits, but goes on to outline the oppressive soul of the place, a technique Poe used to exceptional effect (Poe 81). The story continues to give a thorough account of the interior of the house of Usher, replete with sensations of all kinds that seamlessly ties into the narrative which, its foundation in surroundings forged, moves on with an uninterrupted flow to achieve the maximum effect on its audience, making setting one of the primary reasons for this specific story’s success, but for Poe’s as an author.
Naturally, Poe’s ingenuity in potent backgrounds was not restricted to “The Fall of the House of Usher” as many of his other works own equally enamoring environments. “The Cask of Amontillado” easily earns its place in this group through its employment of a setting that interplays with the story as a whole to form a definitively frightful tale of horror, epitomized in the following passage, “At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs in Paris. Three sides of the interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size (Poe 116).” This frightful description not only projects the desired theme of fear, but foreshadows the imminent doom of Prospero as he is to become like the bones littering the caverns. Through the functional use of imagery, Poe added the needed environmental influences to his stories that showcases one of the most distinct of his contributions to American Literature.
This idea of environment, though playing an important role in “The Cask of Amontillado,” becomes the very center of the action in “The Pit and the Pendulum.” Here is seen a rat-infested prison in which the protagonist finds himself unable to escape the razor-sharp blade of a pendulum as it drops lower and lower towards its ultimate goal of completely eviscerating its unfortunate victim. The descriptions of the story, like Poe’s other works in which hopelessness and despair are explored, go deeper than superficial traits, exposing Poe’s powerful emphasis on the psychological. For instance the following vivid portrayals of the décor in “The Pit and Pendulum” ram home their message of the result of the inquisition’s pernicious intents as they reveal the pendulum. “I now observed-with what horror is needles to say-that its nether extremity was formed of a crescent of glittering steel, about a foot in length from horn to horn; the horns upward, and the under edge evidently as keen as that of a razor, Like a razor also, it seemed massy and heavy, tapering from the edge into a solid and broad structure above. It was apprehended to a weighty rod of brass, and the whole hissed as it swung through the air (Poe 93).” Continuing, Poe expands the scene to contain the mental reaction of this horrific reality as shown when the narrator says, “I could no longer doubt the doom prepared for me by monkish ingenuity in torture. My cognizance of the pit had become known to the inquisitorial agents – the pit, whose horrors had been destined for so bold a recusant as myself- the pit, typical of hell, and regarded as the Ultima Thule of all their punishments (93),” and finally, “I prayed-wearied heaven with my prayer for its more speedy descent. I grew frantically mad, and struggled to force myself upward against the sweep of the fearful scimitar. And then I fell suddenly calm, and lay smiling and glittering at death, as a child at some rare bauble (93).” This snapping of the narrator’s mind allows for what is arguably Poe’s most profound use of an atmosphere where the backdrop takes the leading position in forcing the story onwards to its conclusion. Poe’s differentiating usage of setting is a his most fascinating tool that he employed to varying levels of intensity in his portrayal of his story’s surroundings, be it a passive yet effective description, as seen in “The Cask of Amontillado,” or the sadistically lethal scenery in “The Pit and the Pendulum,” all of his stories are cleverly complemented by ideal backdrops.
Lastly, though not evoking a reaction of fear, the backdrop of “Ligeia” contains one of the Gothic movement’s best examples of milieu. In the story, the narrator describes the interior of his home in detail when he states, “The ceiling of the gloomy-looking oak, was excessively lofty, vaulted and elaborately with the wildest and most grotesque specimens of a semi-Gothic, semi-Druidical device (Poe 131),” and, “In each of the angles of the chamber stood on end a gigantic sarcophagus of black granite, from the tombs of the kings over against Luxor, with their aged lids full of immemorial sculpture.” Though these vivid visuals allow for an eccentric and bizarre mood, the scene is completed by the centerpiece found in the draping (Poe 131). “But in the draping lay the, alas! the chief fantasy of all. The lofty walls, gigantic in height-even unproportionately so-were hung from summit to foot, in vast folds, with a heavy material which was to be found alike as a carpet on the floor, as a covering for the Ottomans and the ebony bed, as a canopy for the bed, and as the gorgeous volutes of the curtains which partially shaded the window. The material was the richest cloth of gold. It was spotted all over with, at irregular intervals, with arabesque figures, about a foot in diameter, and wrought upon the cloth in patterns of the most jetty black. But these figures partook of their true character of the arabesque only when regarded from a single point of view. By a contrivance now common, and indeed traceable to a very remote period of antiquity, they were made changeable in aspect. To one entering the room, they bore the appearance of simple monstrosities; but upon a farther advance, this appearance gradually departed; and, step by step, as the visitor moved his station in the chamber, he saw himself surrounded by an endless succession of the ghastly forms which belong to the superstition of the Norma, or arise in the guilty slumbers of the monk. The phantasmagoric effect was vastly heightened by the artificial introduction of a strong continual current of wind behind the draperies-giving a hideous and uneasy animation to the whole (Poe 131).” This spellbinding illustration of décor that mimics the semblance of life continues to pay due praise to Poe’s brilliance as the story flows on to show the room’s ornamentation is a reflection of the nature of Ligeia, the narrator’s first wife, whose legacy refuses to be trampled by a second marriage (131). Though deceased, Ligeia’s influence holds powerful sway over the story as the narrator outlines his second marriage to a woman who appears to be the polar opposite of her predecessor, possessing bright blond hair (Poe 131) where Ligeia’s is described by the narrator when he says, “the raven-black, the glossy, the luxuriant and naturally-curling tresses, setting forth the full force of the Homeric epithet, ‘hyacinthine’ (128).” Ultimately, the narrator’s love for Ligeia goes beyond the grave as he longs for her and loses whatever love he ever had for his second wife (Poe 131). The story’s tragic nature makes further gains when Ligeia’s legacy, in the form of the subdued Gothic décor and light-restricting implements, takes its toll on the second wife as she sickens and dies of causes that are hinted at being related to the lack of light (Poe 133). The power of environment on the plot and characters of “Ligeia” show Poe’s dedication to his work as he constantly attempted to master so many different methods and mediums of story-telling, the majority of which achieved an unprecedented refinement.
Among Poe’s inspirations and literary ancestors, Mary Shelley and Bram Stocker stand out as being some the most similar. Though holding to completely different styles of writing and narration, the two authors both understood the concept of horror better than the majority of pre-Poe authors. Despite their similarities, the three authors differed considerably as each took their own brand of terror and fitted it to their tastes and appearances, giving their readers a rich and diverse inheritance of ghoulishly macabre writings. Providing European Gothic literature with a formidable rival was a challenge of immeasurable proportions that Poe was found to be proficient at as his stories laid the foundation for an American generation of writers who continued his tradition.
Mary Shelley, married to the famous poet Percy Shelley (“Biography of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley”) and daughter of one of one of her period’s most famous feminists, Mary Wollstonecraft (Biography of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley), Shelley had a strong familial legacy to live up to, one which she proved herself fully capable to be worthy of. Her most famous novel, “Frankenstein,” or “The Modern Prometheus,” was a sensation in its time and continues to excite and disturb readers today. Her technique of story telling follows a uniquely Gothic trend that shows a distrust in science and technology. Shelley’s ideal of horror is something of her protagonist’s creation that, instead of bringing the desired fame and glory, proceeds to destroy everything he loves and holds dear (Shelley 187). Though sharing similarities, Poe’s work’s analogous relationship to Shelley’s is limited as Poe worked his written magic to suit a completely different palate than that of Shelley.
On the issue of science, Poe deviates considerably from his predecessor as his stories show little interest in such pursuits, instead focusing on the terror that rests in men’s minds and the unsettling quality of the spiritual as seen in most his writings. For instance, Shelley’s convincing examination of the ultimately devastating impartation of life is rejected by the supernaturally charged thriller seen in “The Black Cat (Poe 104)” and the alluring mystique in “Morella (170), while he resists Shelley’s use of a sympathetic main character to unleash his own brutal protagonists, exemplified in “The Cask of Amontillado (113),” “The Tell Tale Heart (124),” and “Berenice (201).” Despite bearing an impressive likeness to Shelley in some forms, Poe remained altogether original in his conduct of writing as he used tools completely his own in forming his famous tales.
Poe also heavily employed metaphors and symbols in his stories that add greater meaning to his works, unlike Shelley who succeeded at creating a story of horror without using the ethereal techniques Poe was so proficient at. In “Frankenstein,” the story remains fairly straightforward throughout its entirety as it makes its point clear without compromising its realism as the narrative is perfectly suited to resound its message without symbolism and metaphor. Poe, though frequently displaying incredible psychological and physical authenticity, used metaphor and odd literary tools to reflect his powerful meaning to the audience. For instance, in “The Masque of the Red Death,” Poe uses the colors of the different rooms to project a fascinating message on the progress of life, from birth to death (Poe 110). “The Black Cat” also enlists the aid of symbols for its narrative as the cat represents justice and the permanence of one’s sins (Poe 109). Finally, “Ligeia” has its own arsenal of representative imagery in the form of Ligeia and Lady Rowana’s differing physical traits. Where Rowena is described as “the fair-haired, the blue-eyed Lady Rowena Trevanion of Tremaine (Poe 134),” Ligeia has hair “blacker than the raven wings of midnight (134) and “full, black, and wild eyes (134).” These opposing women are suggested to represent the differing idealisms of two different worlds in a state of total polarization as Ligeia epitomizes all that is sexual, mystical, gothic, and wild: attaining something resembling a vampire in her forbidden and fey nature. Lady Rowena, on the other hand, shows the complete opposite in her portrayal of the rigid, the realistic, and the rational, perhaps explaining the main reason for the narrator’s disconnect from her. Poe’s varying use of different styles and tools of narrative remains a baffling riddle as his mastery of so many varying storytelling methods seems almost inhuman on so many levels as to set him completely apart from his contemporaries and counterparts.
Bram Stocker, having written what is easily one of the most chilling novels of all time, can be found to have had a strong influence on the writings of Poe as his substantial skill is echoed throughout Poe’s tales, despite the significant differences between the two. Stocker’s writing indeed focuses more on the psychological than Shelley as he puts his characters in mentally grueling situations that push them to their limits (204). For instance, in one of “Dracula’s” most famous scenes, the main characters, Van Helsing, Quincy Morris, and Arthur Holmwood are confronted with an excessively macabre situation in the form of the beautiful and beloved Lucy’s tragic fall to the influence of the evil Count Dracula in which they must make the decision to destroy her and end the fledgling vampire’s reign before she can further the Count’s pernicious intents (Stocker 203). This situation’s toll on the protagonists’ is apparent in the following lines when Arthur, Lucy’s fiancé, is forced to the drive the stake through his beloved’s undead heart, “The hammer fell from Arthur’s hand. He reeled and would have fallen had we not caught him. Great drops of sweat sprang out on his forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain on him; and had not been forced to his task by more than humane considerations, he could never have gone through with it (Stocker 204).” Poe, though borrowing heavily from the psychological strain and the concept of the living dead, completely reversed the focus of his writings from the most basic of narrative norms in his ignorance of heroic character, instead resorting to a portrayal of either outright villains or incredibly grey characters as protagonists. Thus, in place of the moral and emotional barriers faced by Stocker’s heroes, Poe’s character’ are decidedly less prone to factoring the ethical nature of their actions into the equation of their decision making, resorting to their more base instincts. Taken from a Freudian perspective, Stocker’s character’s inner turmoil is centered around the superego, while Poe’s are generally limited to the clash of the id and the ego in their internal struggles, allowing them to be ranked among the likes of Hardy, Dostoevsky, and Flaubert in terms of psychological realism. Though excessively different in their execution, Poe and Stocker both made important contributions to literature in their incorporation of realistic cognition in fiction, making their works complementary to one another as each explores different spectrums of the human mind.
Of all of America’s authors, and indeed the world’s, there are few who developed their respective genres so much as Poe. It could be said that what Shakespeare did to the play and Gustave Flaubert did to the novel, so Poe did to a number of genres, primarily the short story and the detective novel. His innovations in these separate venues remain among his most fascinating as he took the previously nonexistent mystery genre and turned it into an exciting form of storytelling that allowed for its accessibility by future writers such as Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, while his short stories and poems possessed a deeper meaning that was unprecedented in his age.
Though Auguste Dupin isn’t usually listed among the ranks of Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes, his tales possessed a similar effect on this respective genre. Poe’s stories of mystery, such as “The Purloined Letter” and “The Murders of the Rue Morgue” revolutionized fiction as readers everywhere learned of the satisfaction and excitement to be had from reading tales that willfully withheld important details until the very end when all was made clear. In fact, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once said of Poe, “Where was the detective story before Poe breathed the breath of life into it (“Poe’s Literary Contributions”)?” This quote holds true as Doyle’s works are heavily influenced by the innovations of Poe in the mystery genre. For instance, like Dr. Watson plays the role of narrator as he documents all of the fascinating actions of his friend, Sherlock Holmes, an unnamed character tells all of the marvels of the intellect of August Dupin as he unravels crimes with refined finesse (Poe 37). Poe’s use of mystery in his stories also is heavily borrowed from as he withholds all the desired details to the very end (51), something that must have captivated the audiences of his day as it was, before then, an unheard of mechanic of literary expression. For instance, “The Murders of the Rue Morgue” explains a grisly murder of two women that isn’t solved until the conclusion when Dupin reveals all, fascinating both the narrator and the audience at the attention to detail of the main character (Poe 51). Though Poe didn’t employ August Dupin as frequently as the refinement of his writing suggests, the few works in which Poe used mystery and the withholding of facts to the end had a powerful result as a new mode, for which writers could exhibit their talents fully, was created: yet another testament to Poe’s extensive contributions to the culture of writing.
“Nevermore, nevermore (Poe 294).” The number of poems possessing as much power as Poe’s “The Raven” are as few as they are brilliant. Poe took poetry and adjusted it to become a completely different artistic venue as he added elements of the ethereal, reminiscent of his poetic counterpart, Emily Dickinson’s deep contemplations in rhyme (Dickinson 2539).” Poe’s adeptness at adding his own themes into an ordinarily harmonious and reflective artistic venue may have been his most innovative venture as few authors had ever possessed such lyrical ideas. In some ways, Poe’s rhythmic musings matched with poetic norms as he did focus more so on the spiritual and psychological aspect of artistic expression, like his short stories, however, the steps he takes into the themes of death, guilt, and despair feel, or at least felt in Poe’s day, out of place in this class of writing. For example, in “The Raven,” Poe’s own brand of lyrical narration shows itself to fit excellently with the poem as the precious and fragile balance between rhyme and story-telling is maintained with the skill of a master as seen in the following, “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing. Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; but the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, and the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ‘Lenore!’ This I whispered and an echo murmured back the word, ‘Lenore!’-Merely this and nothing more (293).” This passage mysteriously and beautifully echoes the author’s present state of mind in the wake of the death of his love and shows Poe’s gift at conveying the terrible grief of losing a friend in an aptly chosen meter. The story continues as a raven, which does nothing more than say, “Nevermore (294),” drives the narrator’s sanity to the breaking point, the conclusion describing his present state. “And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, and the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted-nevermore (Poe 295)!” This surreal and rhythmically haunting ending subscribes to an effective method of art in its fusion of almost serene beauty with heartrending tragedy in a an awing display of lyrical grandeur that realizes Poe’s place of honor among Coleridge, Browning, Shelley, Byron, and so many other poetic masters.
One oft-ignored aspect of Poe’s writing is his method of incorporating morality into the horror-driven plots of his tales. From the chilling warning against alcoholism in “The Black Cat,” to the theme of one’s sins catching up with their instigator, regardless of his attempts to escape in “The Telltale Heart,” the writings of Poe each echo powerful images that cement their messages with an unrivaled finality.
Taking from personal experience (“Poe’s Life”), Poe’s writings in “The Black Cat” powerfully convey a message against intoxication through the use of a terrifying tale of evil which uses an unorthodox method to verify Solomon’s wise words on the subject: “Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler, and whoever is lead astray by it is not wise (Holy Bible, Proverbs. 20.1).” In the story, the narrator shows his life to have been fraught with favorable circumstances as he tells of his loving wife and their blissful animal-filled home (Poe 104). Despite the apparent happiness of his early life, the narrator’s joy quickly crumbles with the beginning of his descent into alcoholism (Poe 105). Among the narrator’s intoxication-influenced acts is his brutality toward his beloved cat, Pluto, who, after attempting to escape his drunk master (Poe 105), has his eye removed (105) in a grisly scene that the narrator later feels terrible regret for (105). Sadly, the guilt brought about by narrator’s cruelty does little to slow the story’s journey towards its black destiny. Eventually, the narrator kills Pluto (Poe 105), stating his reason, saying, “hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin- a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it- if such a thing were possible- even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the most merciful and terrible God (105).” This disturbing passage shows just how far liquor can take the human mind, going so far as to lead the narrator to doubt the infinite mercy of God. Following this, a cat, incredibly similar to Pluto in almost every way comes into the narrator’s possession (Poe 106). It quickly becomes clear to the reader that this cat is a representation of the sins of the narrator as he bears a blind eye (Poe 106) and a mysterious white mark on his chest in the appearance of a gallows (107). The cat’s effect on the main character is predictably profound as this, combined with his addiction, brings him lower than ever, as explained when he states, “And now I was indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere humanity. And a brute beast-whose fellow contemptuously destroyed-a brute beast to work out for me- for me, a man, fashioned in the image of the high God-so much of insufferable woe! Alas! neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of rest any more (Poe 107)!” Finally, in the story’s most loathsome incident, the narrator, fueled by what he describes as “a rage more than demoniacal (Poe 108)” kills his wife and hides the body behind a wall in a cellar (108). Despite his carefully executed concealment of the crime, the police are alerted to the truth of the vile deed by “a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman-a howl- a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might have risen only from the throats of the damned in their agony and of the demons that exult in their damnation (Poe 109).” Following this, the police open the wall and discover the terrible truth in the form of the rotted corpse, the black cat perched on top, its testimony of the author’s guilt leading to his condemnation and subsequent death-sentence. Despite the spirit of depravity and evil that pervades the story, its message is nonetheless clear and well communicated. For instance, all of the previously outlined atrocities committed by the narrator are attributed to alcoholic intoxication. In the following excerpt, the effect of liquor on the mind is aptly described, “One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound on my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more fiendish malevolence, ginurtured, thrilled every fiber of my frame (Poe 105).” No doubt facing his own demons in writing it (“Poe’s Life”), “The Black Cat” gave Poe the ideal venue to combine his affinity for horror with a heartfelt alert to the destructiveness of becoming enslaved to alcohol allowing for one of the most effectively executed messages of all of his extensive literary ventures.
Constantly flowing through “The Black Cat” is the truth that guilt is permanent and that the words of Solomon were indeed true when he said, “If one is burdened with the blood of another, he will be a fugitive until death (Holy Bible, Proverbs.28.17).” No matter what the narrator does, whether it’s killing his cat (Poe 105) or perfectly concealing his murder (108), he remains wracked by guilt in the form of the enigmatic black cat that stalks him. His description of this clearly reveals the parallel between the cat and his guilt, “During the former the creature left me not one moment alone; and, in the latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, and its vast weight-an incarnate nightmare that I had no power to shake off-incumbent eternally upon my heart (Poe 108)!” Even when he finally feels peace, having thought himself rid of any fear of the unearthing of his wickedness (Poe 108), the narrator finds that quite the opposite is true as everything is revealed in one nightmarish display of justice that ends with him relating his story before facing the hangman (109).” This disturbing account’s rendering of one man’s journey to depravity and oblivion conveys its bitter message with an objective sobriety that leaves no space for the misinterpretation of its jarring message against the wicked desires and impulses in the hearts of men.
Though Poe’s writings rarely appear to utilize romance in their plots as more than a backdrop or minor plot device, it is clear that Poe had convictions and even lessons to impart in his stories regarding the concept of the affectionate union between a man and a woman. Despite the darkness in Poe’s writing, he showed himself to be capable of incorporating themes of passion and even warmth into his tales that attributed a human touch to his writing, adding to the vivid realism, of which he already professed a refinement rivaled by few.
“Ligeia” shows what is likely Poe’s most passionate example of love as his narrator longs for his wife to such a degree as to perceive her return (134). The description of Ligeia, taking a significant portion of the story, exemplifies the power of one man’s love for his wife as he describes her in his enamoring detail. The following words spoken by the narrator of the union between him and Ligeia shows the extent to which their love went when says, “Or was it rather a caprice of my own-a wildly romantic offering on the shrine of the most passionate devotion? I but indistinctly recall the fact itself-what wonder that I have forgotten the circumstances which originated or attended it? And, indeed, if ever the spirit which is entitled romance- if ever she, the wan and the misty-winged Ashtophet of idolatrous Egypt, presided as they tell, over marriages ill-omened, then most surely she presided over mine (Poe 127).” This description only touches the surface of the fanatical zeal with which the narrator worships his beloved, which, not dampened but rather fanned into an inferno by her death (Poe 129), continues throughout the whole story to deliver a timeless example of literally undying love (134).
“The Oblong Box” continues the tradition of “Ligeia” by showing a man, Cornelius Wyatt, whose devotion to his wife does, like the narrator’s in “Ligeia,” go beyond the grave (Poe 123). In the story, Wyatt mysteriously brings a box aboard a ship, claiming it as baggage when it is, in actuality, the casket of his dear wife (Poe 123). As the story continues, Wyatt’s passionate love is shown to be unhampered by the grave: an attitude culminating in the story’s conclusion when the narrator describes, as their ship sinks, the loyalty and faithfulness of Wyatt, saying, “As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for as such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the companionway, up which, by dint of a strength that appeared gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in extreme astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around his body. In another instant both body and box were in the sea-disappearing suddenly, at once and for ever (Poe 123).” The images, clear and well wrought, give a possible rival to the previously unprecedented commitment of the narrator in “Ligeia” as Wyatt links his fate to that of the earthly, and much deceased, body of his wife, taking the adoration of her to the extreme. Poe’s exhibits of love are among the most engrossing of American literature as sheer fanaticism is combined with tender love to make an incredibly definitive method of romantic narration that contrasts well with the finest of America’s romantic authors.
Poe’s writings, borne in the wake of a period of increasing optimism, resisted the trends of their day and provided a worldview much different from the humanistic and jovial literature furnished by the likes of Thoreau, Emerson, and Whitman. Where Whitman previously worshiped man’s perfection in works such as “Song of Myself,” Poe created stories in which man’s depravity brought about the most doleful of situations as seen in writings such as “The Cask of Amontillado,” “The Telltale Heart,” and “The Pit and the Pendulum.”
An example of Poe’s reactionary writing was when the sensuous poems of love and a romantic ideal, displayed by the poetry in Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass,” were strongly criticized by Poe in his bitter stories that mocked the hope of an ideal love. “Ligeia,” “Berenice,” and “Morella”: all the names of Poe’s short stories that tell of the death of their narrator’s love. In place of Whitman’s voluptuous discourses on unfading love and perfect beauty, Poe showed the ravages of disease and age on female characters who are reduced to remnants of their former selves by cruel circumstances, exemplified in “Berenice” when the narrator depicts the corrupting and pernicious influence of an unknown ailment on his lovely cousin, Berenice, saying, “Oh gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh, sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! Oh, naiad among its fountains! And then-then all is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told. Disease- a fatal disease, fell like the simoon upon her frame; and, even while I gazed upon her, the spirit of change swept over her character, and, in a manner most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went!- and the victim-where is she? I knew her not- or knew her no longer as Berenice (Poe 202).” The relentless assault of nocuous conditions upon Bernice dreadfully allows the message of beauty and life’s frailty to be sent: a brutal and potent assault on the idealistic perception of romance hawked by the popular writers of Poe’s day.
Though the tragedy of Poe’s love stories loyally adhere to Poe’s pessimism, few of his writings rival “The Masque of the Red Death” in terms of an anti-optimism message. In the story, Prince Prospero throws a party in an abbey where he believes he and his guests are safe from the epidemic that is ravaging the country around him (109). Unfortunately, Prospero’s faith is vainly placed as the deadly disease, the Red Death, creeps in through the walls and brings about a painful end to Prince Prospero and all of his guests as the final lines tell when Poe writes, “And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And the darkness and decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all (113).” These lines leave no room for hope as all die in agony, the story’s message conveyed with unhindered authority, the Biblical allusion of which, adding to the terror as Poe’s description of the red death’s sneaking in “like a thief in the night” can be interpreted as a reference to John 10:10, which says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy (Holy Bible, John. 10.10).” Rarely is such a gem of literature found that so effortlessly refutes an attitude as seen in “The Masque of the Red Death” as Poe again forges a work that furthers his stories’ status as the paradigm of achievement in writing.
Flowing with Poe’s dislike of happy endings and cheery stories, the revelers and the prince possess an eerie resemblance to Transcendentalists that poses the question of whether Poe wrote the story as a metaphor to what he believed to be the foolish ideas of his positive-minded counterparts. The evidence for such a scenario is ample as transcendental beliefs put much of their confidence in the goodness of nature, hoping for mankind’s achieving a harmony with the environment (Emerson 1111). In “The Masque of the Red Death,” the reader sees a group of people who gaily ignore the obvious danger they are in, putting their trust in the walls of the prince’s abbey: an oversight that costs all of them their lives (Poe 109). This dark correlation shows Poe’s perception of transcendentalism’s unpalatable reality as an ignorant and naïve hope in a pantheistic dream that is doomed to be crushed by the brutal truth of the world’s inherent evil.
It is at the point of describing the evil of man that Poe truly was at his finest, weaving his masterpiece stories from the thread of humanity’s natural depravity: a belief that stiffly contradicts the very core of transcendentalism. “Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul (Whitman 2234).” Few lines summarize transcendentalism’s most blatant trait as those of Walt Whitman’s, seen here in his famous poem, “Song of Myself.” “Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest (Whitman 2234).” Whitman, and indeed Thoreau and Emerson, all believed man to be able to attain perfection, Whitman’s writing displaying a belief in man’s faultless and consummate nature to be already attained: ideas that Poe effortlessly and constantly refuted in his writings as he strove to give America a more acceptable alternative to the outright fantasies of his literary counterparts.
Insanity, substance abuse, and the burden of dealing with the death of a loved one, it is obvious that Poe’s character’s dealt with overwhelming situations that allowed for no semblance of refinement in their forms, rather, Poe aspired to show the absolute antonym of Whitman’s dream of the boundless potential of humanity and his picturesque qualities of blameless, godlike purity. For example, “The Telltale Heart’s” narrator, though believing himself to be sane, not unlike Whitman’s belief in himself and mankind to be of a divine form, slowly loses his grip on reality as a result of his murder, losing all of his discernment as he believes the sound of his own heartbeat to be that of his dead victim (Poe 127). “The Black Cat” also imparts to the reader a clever refutation of Transcendentalism, as the main character appears to be at a kind of harmony with nature as he and his wife delight themselves in the company of their many pets. However, their joy and peace are quickly shattered as the narrator’s wickedness turns the home into a veritable hell for both man and animal that results in a chain of grisly deaths and the destruction of all their hope and happiness (Poe 105). Poe’s reaction to the age of optimism he inherited, though harsh and occasionally extreme, did allow for audiences to achieve a balance between the two conflicting worldviews and move forward armed with a relative possession of reality and truth.
The strength and vitality contained in Poe’s works will always be one of an enamoring quality, the longevity of which will truly be perpetual as new generations continue to marvel at the genius of America’s favorite Gothic author. Through the perfecting of the mixture of morality and terror, along with his clever conceptions in the invocation of fear in his audiences, Poe’s refinement in writing is in possession of a transcendent nature that demands the greatest of admiration and awe. From his revolutionary developments in a number of genres and his versatile skills, to his harsh criticism of transcendentalism and its optimistic ideal, Poe was, indeed, a cultural pioneer whose influence will always be proudly hailed by Americans and remain a fantastic contrast to Europe’s greatest gothic and mystery writers and poets.
Works Cited:
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