Poe, Horror and the Supernatural
(This page is under construction.)
Although Poe is best remembered now as a writer of horror stories,
they
comprise only a small part of his writings. Ironically, Poe seems to
have
stumbled into his role as the master of the macabre quite by accident.
Intending to publish a set of eleven stories as Tales from the
Folio
Club, Poe found a market only for the individual items. Removed
from
the explanatory preface, these stories were taken as serious examples
of
the sort of story Poe was actually satirizing. Thereafter, Poe retained
his sense of humor in writing such stories, but the jokes were
generally
private ones, often indirectly on the reader himself.
Poe, of course, did not invent the horror story, nor was he its only
practioner. In Poe's day, "Penny Dreadfuls" and "Penny Bloods" were
almost
as common as comic books are today. Their pages were filled with ghosts
and demons, torture and terrible deaths. The essence of their craft was
cheap sensation, written with little attention to art or style. Poe may
have seen some of these, but the undisputed models for his horror
tales,
as both imitation and parody, come primarily from Blackwood's
Magazine.
Indeed, there is a long horror tradition before Poe, including such
memorable
classics as Mary Shelly's Frankenstein (1818) and such
forgettable
ones as Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto (1764). If we no
longer read Varney the Vampyre: The Feast of Blood (1845-1847)
or
Ann Radcliffe's Mysteries of Udolpho (1794), we perhaps owe a
great
debt of thanks to Poe, who satisfies the same pleasures of
mystery
and thrills without sacrificing the reader's intellect. With each
story,
Poe's elegant prose, carefully wrought plots and meticulous detail
elevated
the genre to new heights. Poe proved that one could apply the
principles
of fine literature to popular themes and did much to undo the stigma
that
had been so well earned by a legion of mediocre writers.
Genius may fill the mind and passion the heart, but neither
satisfies
an empty stomach. Poe is not morbid for writing these horror stories;
it
is we who are morbid for neglecting the rest of his works.
Tales:
"Metzengerstein" (1832)
"MS Found in a Bottle" (1833)
"Berenice" (1835)
"Morella" (1835)
"The Fall of the House of Usher" (1839)
"The Masque of the Red Death" (1842)
"The Black Cat" (1843)
"The Tell-Tale Heart" (1843)
"The Pit and the Pendulum" (1842)
"The Premature Burial (1844)
"Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar" (1845)
"The Cask of Amontillado" (1846)
Dismissing “A Dream” (Saturday Evening Post, August 13, 1831),
which has been tentatively and perhaps erroneously offered as a story
by Poe, his first published tale is the “horror” story “Metzengerstein”
(Saturday Courier , January 14, 1832). Among his next dozen
published tales are several others in the same genre, if rather
different in presentation: “MS Found in a Bottle” (Baltimore
Saturday Visiter, October 19, 1833); “Berenice” (Southern
Literary Messenger, March 1835) and “Morella” (Southern Literary
Messenger, April 1835). (There were also such humorous stories as
“"Raising the Wind; or Diddling Considered as One of the Exact
Sciences," “The Duc de L’Omellette,” “Lionizing” and “The Unparalleled
Adventures of One Hans Phall,” but I will pay no attention to these at
the moment since our topic deals primarily with the first category.)
Many of Poe’s most memorable stories are classics of the “horror” or
“terror” genre: “The Fall of the House of Usher” (1839), “The Masque of
the Red Death” (1842), “The Tell-Tale Heart” (1843), “The Black Cat”
(1843), “Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar” (1845) and “The Cask of
Amontillado” (1846). The last of Poe’s tales, the untitled and
unfinished manuscript generally called “The Light-House,” seems also to
fit into this genre. (This tale appears to refer to a known disaster on
November 20, 1703, when a lighthouse was swept away by a terrible
storm.)
In Poe’s day, there were essentially five types of “popular” stories:
Romances (Sentimental and Historical), Morality tales,
Humor/Burlesques, Adventures (mostly sea yarns, and later stories of
the frontier) and tales of Sensation. (Poe later invented a sixth type,
the detective story, or the tale of ratiocination. He also dabbled in
early forms of science fiction, but these are not relevant to our
current topic.) The last genre more appropriately describes Poe’s tales
than the standard label of “horror.” It is a style that has largely
been attributed to Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, which
included at least 20 of these tales between 1821 and 1837. A few of the
better known stories are: “The Man in the Bell” (1821), “The Buried
Alive” (1821), “The Night Walker” (1823), “The Suicide” (1824), “The
Last Man” (1826), “The Metempsychosis” (1826), “Le Revenant” (1827),
“The Murderer’s Last Night” (1829), “The Iron Shroud” (1830), “The
Involuntary Experimentalist” (1837), also the long-running serial
“Passages from the Diary of a Late Physician,” which under the guise of
an actual medical account relies for interest greatly on many a corpse
and other blood-curdling details. Most of the writers of these tales
remained anonymous; others are names which, while known, never
established lasting fame, such as Samuel Warren, William Mudford and
James Hogg.
Some critics have pointed out that this type of tale generally appeared
only once every few months, and that the publishers were cautious to
avoid the public criticism which often accompanied a too regular diet
of lurid gothicism. Such caution, however, should not be taken as a
sign that printing a tale of this sort was not helpful to circulation
(the reader’s or the magazine’s). Dr. John William Polidori’s tale “The
Vampyre” (attributed to Byron and based on an actual fragment by the
famous poet) appeared in the New Monthly Magazine in April
1819, immediately establishing that magazine, and, more importantly,
reaping a financial windfall for the owners. Critics sometimes also
focusing too greatly on the magazines, and especially on Blackwood’s.
The history of literature has always included a prominent, and
sometimes prurient, element of gruesome details and frightening
situations. (Greek mythology is full of monsters and awful punishments.
Even Medieval Christian writers relied heavily on the devil and his
demons to scare sinners onto the proper path. Ironically, the “Inferno”
portion of Dante’s The Divine Comedy is surely more intriguing
than “Purgatorio” and “Paradisio” combined. It is perhaps also no
coincidence that one of the most popular books in religious households
was John Foxe’s Actes and Monuments, originally published in
1563 and running through four editions by 1583. By the 19th century, it
was more widely known as Foxe’s Book of Martyrs and often
appeared with elaborate and horrifying engravings depicting the saints
being burned alive or tortured. The fairy tales of the brothers Grimm,
often very grim indeed, were translated into English as early as 1823.)
By 1830, the gothic tale, in its more formal sense, had long been a
staple in the mass market of fiction, beginning with Tobias G.
Smollett’s Ferdinand Count Fathom (1753) and Horace Walpole’s The
Castle of Otranto (1764), and continuing through such books as Ann
Radcliffe’s A Sicilian Romance (1790) and The Mysteries of
Udolpho (1794), Charles R. Maturin’s Melmoth the Wanderer
(1820) and especially Matthew Gregory Lewis’ The Monk (1790),
not to overlook Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818). There were
also the very popular pulp publications classified as “chapbooks,” but
more regularly known as “blue books,” “shilling shockers,” “penny
bloods” and “penny dreadfuls.” (One of these cheap periodicals, called The
Ghost, began an issue with a story titled “The Dead Devoured by the
Living,” featuring a crude woodcut of a ghoul feeding upon a corpse —
truly ghastly even if only in black and white.)
Early in their careers such writers as Sir Walter Scott and Washington
Irving were not ashamed to drift into the realm of E. T. A. Hoffman and
Johann Ludwig Tieck, although they moved somewhat away from the genre
once their reputations were firmly established. (A ghost story called
“The Mysterious Bride,” from Blackwood’s for December 1830,
begins, “A great number of people now-a-days are beginning broadly to
insinuate that there are no such things as ghosts, or spiritual beings
visible to mortal sight. Even Sir Walter Scott is turned renegade, and,
with his stories made up of half-and-half, like Nathaniel Gow’s toddy,
is trying to throw cold water on the most certain, though most
impalpable, phenomena of human nature.”)
Poe himself was aware of the value — and the troubles — of such
stories. On April 30, 1835, he wrote to Thomas W. White, the owner of
the Southern Literary Messenger, about his tale “Berenice,”
which had just appeared in the issue for March:
A word or two in relation to Berenice. Your opinion of it
is very just. The subject is by far too horrible, and I confess that I
hesitated in sending it [to] you especially as a specimen of my
capabilities. The Tale originated in a bet that I could produce nothing
effective on a subject so singular, provided I treated it seriously. .
. . The history of all Magazines shows plainly that those which have
attained celebrity were indebted for it to articles similar in nature —
to Berenice — although, I grant you, far superior in style and
execution. I say similar in nature. You ask me in what does this nature
consist? In the ludicrous heightened into the grotesque; the fearful
coloured into the horrible; the witty exaggerated into the burlesque;
the singular wrought out into the strange and mystical. You may say all
this is bad taste. . . . But whether the articles of which I speak are,
or are not in bad taste is little to the purpose. To be appreciated you
must be read, and these things are invariably sought after with avidity.
White was not the only publisher to disagree with Poe on this idea. In
late 1842, Henry T. Tuckerman, editor of the Boston Miscellany,
rejected “The Tell-Tale Heart”, noting, “If Mr. Poe would condescend to
furnish more quiet articles, he would be a most desirable
correspondent.” In his preface to Tales of the Grotesque and
Arabesque (1840), Poe felt compelled to defend himself against
charges of “Germanism,” saying:
I speak of these things here, because I am led to think it
is this prevalence of the "Arabesque" in my serious tales, which has
induced one or two critics to tax me, in all friendliness, with what
they have been pleased to term "Germanism" and gloom. The charge is in
bad taste, and the grounds of the accusation have not been sufficiently
considered. Let us admit, for the moment, that the "phantasy-pieces"
now given are Germanic, or what not. Then Germanism is "the vein" for
the time being. To morrow I may be anything but German, as yesterday I
was everything else. These many pieces are yet one book. My friends
would be quite as wise in taxing an astronomer with too much astronomy,
or an ethical author with treating too largely of morals. But the truth
is that, with a single exception, there is no one of these stories in
which the scholar should recognize the distinctive features of that
species of pseudo-horror which we are taught to call Germanic, for no
better reason than that some of the secondary names of German
literature have become identified with its folly. If in many of my
productions terror has been the thesis, I maintain that terror is not
of Germany, but of the soul, — that I have deduced this terror only
from its legitimate sources, and urged it only to its legitimate
results.
Yet Poe seems ultimately to have been vindicated, if not from labels of
“Germanism” surely in his notion that such stories could secure
popularity and fame. It is, after all, precisely those tales among his
writings which have had the longest appeal to readers and have kept his
name before the eyes of the public for over 150 years. In the end, it
is not really Poe who is morbid for writing such tales, but we who are
morbid for remembering only these stories and neglecting the bulk of
his other writings.
Bibliography:
- Weiner, Bruce I., "Poe and the Blackwood's Tale of Sensation," in
Poe
and His Times: The Artist and His Milieu, Baltimore: The Edgar
Allan
Poe Society, 1990, pp. 45-65.
- Haining, Peter, Terror: A History of Horror Illustrations
from the
Pulp
Magazines, A & W Visual Library, 1976.
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