Terror is of the soul

Poe's collection of short stories Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque was issued circa December 4, 1839. His publishers Lea & Blanchard limited its production run, despite protest from the author. It was his first collection of prose, though he had previously published a novel and, well, a controversial textbook on seashells in addition to a couple books of poetry.

Poe's early works were somewhat sensational and he was occasionally criticized for "Germanic" stories, what we might call Gothic romance today. In Poe's introduction to the book, he responds to those accusations with the now-famous line, "I maintain that terror is not of Germany, but of the soul." In fact, I believe that's exactly what Poe was doing throughout his career: mirroring the general thoughts and feelings of his reading audience (okay, except for that seashell thing).

Burton's Gentleman's Magazine announced the book's publication, noting that its title "pretty well indicates their [stories'] character." In case you're like me, you might need more help on the terms "Grotesque" and "Arabesque." They are architectural terms, after all, and not often used in literary discussions today. Poe, however, might have been inspired by fellow writer Sir Walter Scott, who used the terms in his essay "On the Supernatural in Fictitious Composition."

Both terms refer to a type of complex Islamic art style used in walls and carpets, especially in mosques. Poe used "arabesque" in this way in his essay on "The Philosophy of Furniture" (what? You haven't read Poe's tips on interior design?). In the case of this book, however, Poe may have been trying to create categories within Gothic fiction much like the categories within architecture.

Some scholars define the "grotesque" stories as those where the character becomes a caricature or satire, as in "The Man That Was Used Up," a story which questions the nature of a war hero (likely modeled on General Winfield Scott). The "arabesque" stories are often psychological as in "The Fall of the House of Usher." Other scholars say "grotesque" means blood and gore, while "arabesque" means terror on a metaphysical level. Ultimately, there is no way to accurately define Poe's intentions for these terms, and scholars who attempt a laundry list of "grotesques" and "arabesques" often end up with different results.

*The picture is an arabesque-style tile from the Wazir Khan Mosque in Lahore, Pakistan, circa late 18th century.

Grotesque and Arabesque

Perhaps in ironic contrast to yesterday's post, publishers Lea and Blanchard wrote to Poe on November 20, 1839, declining to print more copies of a book of his writings.

The publishing history of Poe's prose collection Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque was a horror story unto itself. The collection was two volumes, packaging a hefty 25 stories (including "The Fall of the House of Usher," "The Man That Was Used Up," "Ligeia," and "William Wilson" in volume one; "Berenice," "Metzengerstein," "Von Jung," and "The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall" in volume two). The Philadelphia-based publishers originally offered a production run of 1750 copies. However, still reeling from the Bank Panic of 1837, the struggling economy forced them to cut back to 750 copies. It was released in the first week of December 1839, though it carried an 1840 copyright notice.

They offered to take all financial risk. This is substantial; Poe had to pay out of his own pocket for the publication of his first book, Tamerlane and Other Poems. Having little money, he was limited to only about 50 copies. The book went virtually unnoticed. Typically, publishing in this period required authors personally to purchase any and all unsold copies after a certain time period. Lea & Blanchard were sure to point out their kindness, and their regret for such kindness. In their letter, they noted: "When we undertook their publication, it was solely to oblige you and not with any view to profit." In fact, they noted their concern about recovering their initial investment, and kindly noted Poe should consider contributing "to relieve us from the publication at cost, or even a small abatement."

Poe hoped he could persuade his publishers to eke out a few extra copies. After all, no less a literary luminary than Washington Irving had offered his endorsement of Poe's prose. Reviews noted the book showed "a power of vivid description, an opulence of imagination, a fecundity of invention, and a command over the elegances of diction which have seldom been displayed."

However, the response from Lea & Blanchard in their November 20 letter was straightforward. Hypothetically considering if they were to do it all over again, the publishers noted: "If the offer was now before us we should certainly decline it."

Thou hast murdered thyself

October 1, 1849 — Poe's whereabouts are still unaccounted for. Though I don't mean to keep the story in suspense, I'd like to offer a quick interlude in honor of the first day of October. If 2009 hasn't pulled you into Poe yet, the amazing line-up of Poe events around the world throughout October just might. What better month to celebrate the macabre side of America's greatest imaginative genius?

Looking back, you might be disappointed to see how few of Poe's October-appropriate stories were first published in October or October issues of periodicals. "MS. Found in a Bottle" was published in October 1833, "The Landscape Garden" was published nine years later in October 1842. A year after that, a humorous story called "Diddling" made its October appearance, followed by the very funny "Angel of the Odd" a year later. Poe's essay on "The Rationale of Verse" was also published in October, in 1848. Poems include "The Divine Right of Kings" and "The Coliseum." The major one is "Annabel Lee," but I'll tell that story another day. "Ulalume," of course, takes place in "the lonesome October," but it was actually published in December 1847. In other words, Poe's Octobers were fairly empty of appropriate October writings.

But then there's "William Wilson." More complicated than a simple "horror story," "William Wilson" was published in The Gift: A Christmas and New Year's Present for 1840, which likely hit shelves sometime in October 1839 (giving plenty of time for early Christmas shoppers... we haven't changed much, have we?). One of Poe's most complicated and under-appreciated tales, the main character made his name up to protect his own identity (symbolically making himself the "son" of his "will"). The setting of the tale, somewhat Gothic and daunting, was inspired by Poe's early childhood in England and the title character shares a birthday on January 19 with the author.

William Wilson meets a man who shares his name and even his birthday. Soon, the narrator sees this doppelganger as a competitor. To make a long story short, one William Wilson seeks to murder the other. However, after the deed is done, the image of the corpse turns out to be a mirror, revealing that both murderer and victim are one and the same. The closing line of the tale confirms what we all knew would happen: "thou hast murdered thyself."

The epigraph above the story asks, "What say of it? what say of conscience grim, That spectre in my path?" Is there a moral here, despite Poe's apparent dislike of using literature to teach a lesson? Maybe. But it's still a great story. And a great way to celebrate October (or Christmas, apparently!).

*The image above is by Harry Clarke.

The clouds hung oppressively low

September is a busy month for Poeists. Some heavy-hitters from Poe's collected works were first published in September or September issues of periodicals. The earliest was a mostly-forgotten poem published on September 15, 1827, when Poe was 18 years old, referred to as "The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour."

His prose works which first see circulation in September include "King Pest" (1835), "Shadow — A Parable" (1835), "Ligeia" (1838), "Never Bet the Devil Your Head" (1841) and "The Oblong Box" (1844). Perhaps the most famous, however, is "The Fall of the House of Usher," published in the September 1839 issue of Burton's Magazine (the cover of that issue is pictured at left).

Regarded by some as the most perfect Gothic story ever written, "The Fall of the House of Usher" features all the tropes of that genre. The most important image, of course, is the decaying castle. The story follows an unnamed narrator who serves no purpose in the action of the story (unlike more involved narrators which play pivotal roles as main characters, like those in "The Tell-Tale Heart" and "The Cask of Amontillado"). Instead, through the eyes of this narrator, the reader meets Roderick Usher — a man broken down by his own sense of foreboding and impending doom. When Madeline Usher, Roderick's sister, dies after an illness, his feelings of doom turn to guilt. He loses his reason and goes mad (or so we assume), believing he has buried his sister before she was truly dead. Whether he was right or not is debatable — but, whether it's his undead sister or his own emotional instability, Roderick dies, leading to a very literal fall of the "house of Usher."

The story is nearly perfect. Poe's literary theory tells us that emotional response is the most important. In this story, emotions run rampant throughout and the reader feels the same sense of foreboding that Roderick does. We are left to ponder and question many aspects of the story, including its symbolism. The most alluring might be Roderick's library and his decision to recite the story of "The Mad Tryst." Somewhat distracting is the possibility of incest in the Usher family. The evidence lies only in the following lines:

I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honored as it was, had put forth, at no period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary variation, so lain.

Incest, though possible, is not certain (I read it only to say there are no remaining heirs of the Usher estate) — not that it matters. The story stands strong either way.

What amazes the most about "The Fall of the House of Usher" is its composition. Poe clearly put substantial effort into the story and, following his own literary theory, did not distract with unnecessary details. Scott Peeples, of the Poe Studies Association, notes the genius in the first line of the story which sets the tone (and buries the subject — the nameless narrator who does little to push the plot of the story forward):

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 alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.

More on another of my favorite September stories in my next post.