Text: Henry Edward Cain, “Chapter III,” The Poe-Mangan Question (1929), pp. 45-66

[page 45:]

The points of resemblance between Mangan and Poe which have been most discussed by writers lie in their verse. In view of the facts that the two poets were contemporaries and that they therefore became the objects of the same influences which were then sweeping the civilized world, and that they exhibited common traits of morbidity and melancholy, a sameness in their mentality and in their philosophy of life, it is only to be expected that their verse should show in many respects common peculiarities. However, it is in the more formal characteristics of their poetry that critics have discerned some similarities; and it is with these features of the poetry of Poe and Mangan in mind that they have ventured the suggestion that Poe appropriated to his own use some of Mangan's metrical devices. In particular, these critics refer to the peculiar use of rhythm and the refrain, as practiced by the two poets, and also their employment of repetition and internal rimes.

The present comparative study is designed to show what resemblances in technique there were between the poetry of Mangan and that of Poe. Also, in the light of the development of each poet's skill in the employment of each device, it is purposed to indicate to what extent the theory that either poet was influenced by the other is consistent with the facts in the case.

Edgar Allan Poe is primarily the poet of sound. Melody with him is essential; and so, in order to perfect the harmony of his verses, he garnished them with all the scintillating jewels that are precious to the versifier. He became, in fact, the metrical magician. Thus it is that one finds in the pulsing of his lines that divinely ringing harmony that moves the spirit and somehow leaves the brain vibrating, exultant in the pleasure of its after-tones. In his lines there is a music that seems to scorn the homely analysis of the scientific student of verse.

So, too, is it with some of the poetry of James Clarence Mangan. Often when he sings, the listener stands in the presence of sheer melody. [page 46:]

Yet, as will be evident from the following comparison, it is the American who gains always when the lines of these poets are put side by side.

Concerning internal rimes, the earliest appearance of this phenomenon in Mangan occurs in his translation of Bürger's ballad under the title of Lenore, which appeared in the Dublin University Magazine for November 1834. Throughout the poem such lines as the following are spread without apparent design:

In some stanzas of this poem however, they appear wtih [[with]] some regularity, as in the translation of the following original, which does not show the same rimes as the translation; although in other stanzas Bürger does use sectional rime, such as sprang und schwang “ and “ Gesang und Klang.”

Note the repetition of the word “Toten.” The translation is as follows:

Here Mangan has coupled a sectional rime with internal rimes, and also has made the internal rime “Dead” rime with “dread” as an interlaced rime.

It may be in place to point out here that in the same poem he offers an example of an interlaced rime standing alone: [page 47:]

Here is voiced an echo of some of the music that runs through the lines of Poe; yet it does not sound like Poe at his best.

Again, in “The Lay of the Captive Count,” from Goethe, first published in the Dublin University Magazine for March 1836, Mangan has employed with pleasing grace an internal rime in the last verse of each stanza; this rime does not appear in the original, although the meter and stanzaic structure are alike. The first stanza of the poem is repeated here:

The original has:

Mangan never lost ear for the beauties of this old musical trick, and employed it with varying degrees of success, especially in his translations from the German, as in Goethe's “The Fisherman,” which appeared in the Dublin University Magazine for March 1837, an excerpt from which follows,

Ah! sure the blue ethereal dew, the shining heaven these waters shew,

and in that most musical transformation of Rückert's poem entitled “The Ride around the Parapet,” in which Mangan uses an internal rime in the fourth line of every stanza, as

To quote again from Goethe's “The Fisherman,” there appears an example of interlaced rime standing alone:

The original which follows, has not this interlaced rime:

Turning from Mangan to Poe, one finds in the 1827 edition of Poe's poems “A Dream,” the last stanza of which reads:(1)

There does not appear to have been in Poe any gradual development of this use of rime, and in his earlier poetry, one finds it but seldom. He seems to have acquired suddenly a most pleasing facility in its use, the effect of which he heightened considerably by using it in combination with other metrical tricks. The only example which might throw some little light on the process of Poe's acquisition of a taste for this particular rime is supplied by a study of Lenore. The 1843 version of the poem has the first stanza as follows:

The 1845 version has:

From this, we see that the interlaced rime is purely the effect of the manner of printing the lines on the page. But the more important fact to be noted is that Poe, in rearranging this poem was not primarily attempting to perfect himself in the use of rime: he had another end in view. Referring to these stanzas, Fruit says:

“Here one can test what effect the form of the verse upon the page as presented to the eye has upon the reading. A stanza of irregular and choppy lines suggests, in its bulk to the eye, a somewhat spasmodic, or jerky, movement.

“Why is the form of the stanza of 1845 better than that of 1843? Because the dominant idea of the poem is that of a chant, a dirge, a requiem, and the form of 1845 makes to the eye the first, and proper suggestion.

“Poe had realized that there was much that was poetry only to the (physical) eye, that is, stanzaic form. As has been indicated, he wrote to the mind's eye in perceptible images, and to the soul, through the fleshly ear, in music.”(2)

But it is in Annabel Lee, and particularly in The Raven that Poe has achieved a rare degree of perfection in arranging rimes. The last stanza of Annabel Lee demonstrates the effectiveness of the rime:

Place beside this some examples from Mangan's poetry, and at once it becomes a simple matter to say who was the greater master in the art of placing rimes. Here are some lines from “ The Time of the Barmecides”:

Again, in “ The Romance of the Lake Horse,” Mangan wrote:

Mangan also used this device in his lighter poetry, of course with less effectiveness, as in “The Romance of Lateeran”:

Comparing thus objectively some few representative lines of Poe and of Mangan, we find it difficult to say that Mangan equalled, or even approached, Poe in the effective use of internal and interlaced rimes. Moreover, it does not appear from this same comparison that Poe learned anything from Mangan in this respect, especially in view of what has been demonstrated of the construction of Lenore. We may well conclude that Poe brought to this use of an old metrical device the peculiar flavor of his own genius with a richness that could hardly look back to Mangan for its prompting.

A second feature of the poetry of Mangan and of Poe that calls for consideration is the refrain.

The refrain is as old as poetry itself, and consists, according to Schipper, “of the entire, or at least partial, repetition of the same words.”(3) But it is not because of the simple fact that both Poe and Mangan made use of the refrain that critics have seen fit to [page 51:] compare them; it is because they both made, according to Graves, the same use of “ that modern adaption of the refrain which consists of repeating it with musical variations.”

In Mangan's German translations appear many uses of the refrain. But for the most part these are not original; they are often “oversettings.” The translation of Goethe's Mignon does not reflect clearly in favor of Mangan's original genius.

The first two stanzas of Goethe's original are:

Mangan has:

It is clear that Mangan did not follow Goethe's use of the refrain closely. Yet, we have the repetition of the word thither in every stanza, although it is not repeated in each stanza as is dahin. Also, in Mangan's poem, the constant element,

is not to be found. Thus we see that he copied the last line, which has the varying vocative, and inserted a varied repetition of the first half of the first line of the original. Goethe's first four lines are pentameter; Mangan's are heptameter.

In making these uses of the refrain, Mangan was following a good model and it was, perhaps, from the Germans that he learned the secret of the effectiveness of the refrain. But there is one noteworthy case in which Mangan, in translating a poem from Rueckert “Die Begrüssung auf dem Kynast” under the title “The Ride Around the Parapet,” which appeared in the Dublin University Magazine for February 1842, found an original refrain, which he altered greatly and rearranged, introducing at the same time the element of repetition; thus he considerably enhanced the beauty of his rendition even above that of the original poem. One stanza of the translation and one stanza of the original are quoted here:

It is at once apparent that Mangan's translation is not at all literal. However, it is the refrain with which we are mainly concerned here, and it is clearly evident that Mangan gained much by placing two lines of the refrain together, and at the end. In considering other features of this poem, one finds that Mangan maintains the same stanzaic scheme throughout his ballad. The third line is an exact repetition of the first. The second line is a refrain, which is constant, except for the first syllable. The sixth and seventh lines constitute a refrain, the first word of each line sometimes being varied. As has already been pointed out, there is an internal rime in the fourth line. The meter of the lines is varied. [page 53:] While the stanza is dominantly iambic, the fourth and fifth lines particularly manifest but four and three primary beats respectively, so that they take on the character of anapestic peonic lines. In the original there is no line repetition, no internal rime, no variation of meter, and no final refrain.

Here is a case of what is meant by “repeating with musical variations.” The effectiveness of the poem does credit to Mangan, and is evidence of genuine poetical talent. But there is a decided disparity between Mangan's work on this poem and that of Poe seven years later in “The Bells.” Here the American rises high above the Irishman, as becomes clear when one examines a stanza of “The Bells” for its musical qualities:

Here Poe has achieved a surpassing use of onomatopoeia, which is altogether absent from “The Ride Around the Parapet.” Yet, here, as in Mangan's piece, the music results primarily from the employment and irregular interspersion of three and four-syllable feet, in the use of which Poe gives unquestionable evidence of a sense of rhythm superior to Mangan's.

The important thing to be noted in comparing these two poems is that Mangan's variation of the refrain throughout the stanzas is almost imperceptible, while, in Poe, the variation is the distinguishing and striking feature. In every stanza of “The Bells” the number of lines in the refrains and the length of the lines are varied; likewise, the content of the last line in each refrain is changed entirely, except for the repetition of the words “of the bells.” [page 54:]

In other poems Mangan has employed the refrain with less striking effect. In neither “The Dawning of the Day,” “Sarsfield,” “Kinkora,” nor in “The Lament for Banba” has he struck any new note. Conspicuous in “The Karamanian Exile” and in “The Time of the Barmecides” is the abscence of the element of variation. In the former, the refrain is set regularly in schematic form, and only here and there do we find a suggestion of the the [[sic]] repetend and varied repetitions as used by Poe; and yet it is in this poem that these phenomena appear more distinctly than in any other of Mangan's. Two excerpts will demonstrate the Irishman's use of variation in this case.

However, in “The Time of the Barmecides” the refrain is an exact repetition, and the element of variation is not present.

It is in “Dark Rosaleen” that Mangan comes nearest to Poe in his use of the refrain. The last half of the first and second stanzas of that poem are reprinted here:

Repetition of the phrases “shall give you hope” and was lightning in my blood” is typical of the entire poem. In every stanza, each of which has twelve lines, the eleventh line is a variation of the tenth or the seventh, or both. The phrase “My Dark Rosaleen” is repeated twice in each stanza, and is varied once in each stanza to “My own Rosaleen” or “My fond Rosaleen.” The iambic meter is in this poem, also, interspersed with anapests. The peculiar rhythmic swing with which the poem reads has been effected by the combination of the refrain, the varied repetition, and the metrical shift. The reader will recognize at once that these features are in the main the same ones which distinguish “The Raven,” “The Bells,” and “Annabel Lee”; but it must be noted that “Dark Rosaleen” did not appear until a year later than the first-mentioned of these three poems, a fact which precludes the possibility that Poe could have been influenced by that poem; and before this, as we have seen, it is only in “The Karamanian Exile” that there was heard unmistakably the note that Poe later sang with a surer voice.

It appears from what has been noted that Mangan had been experimenting in the use of internal and interlaced rimes long before Poe used them; but it ought to be said that he did not call into use either of these particular rime schemes in writing that part of his poetry which is most suggestive of Poe. Only once did he combine internal rime with the varied refrain: “The Ride Around the Parapet” contains both. It must also be remarked here that Mangan was making good use of the refrain as early as 1842. In May 1844, just a few months before “The Raven” was published, Mangan's “The Karamanian Exile” brought to the public eye a foretokening of the metrical style of Poe's masterpiece. In the face of this, one finds it difficult to deny positively the hypothesis that Poe deliberately plagiarized the excellencies that belonged to the Irishman.

The result of the investigation of this particular phase of the Poe-Mangan affinity has been largely negative. Nowhere in any of the writings of, or on, either man is there any piece of direct evidence that one was influenced by the other, or even that either knew of the other's existence. [page 56:]

But can we not test in some way the hypothesis that Mangan influenced Poe?

O’Brien says:

“. . . . Poe's combinations were accomplished only after Mangan's experiments had been confided to the public. And then, unlike the latter's development, which was normal and gradual, the most abrupt determination to introduce a new feature into his poetry has all the appearance of a sudden discovery rather than an original invention.”(4)

The same author further says:

“. . . Now, it is possible that Poe introduced into his verse not the discovery of another, but the invention of his own genius. In literature, however, as in other departments of human activity, we are slow to ascribe to genius a product that can be accounted for by less extraordinary means. He had been studying English poetry from childhood. Did he suddenly discover there some new singing quality which had before escaped his notice.”(5)

First of all, with respect to this, the author implies that when Poe came upon the poetry of Mangan, he utilized whatever metrical inventions it displayed. Likewise, it is thought that Poe learned how to use internal rime from Mangan. Had not Shelley used internal rime in “The Cloud,” and had not others used internal rime long before Mangan and used it with as much effectiveness? It is not also singular that (since “ he had been studying English poetry from childhood ”) Poe did not earlier appropriate to himself the same device from Shelley or some other poet? The same is true of Poe's use of repetition and the varied repetition. The same phenomenon is to be found in the poetry of Coleridge, as in the following stanzas:

And yet, if we are to take Poe's word for it, and if he knew that such examples existed, he did not consider such repetition distinctly original, for he wrote:

“. . . for centuries, no man, in verse, has ever done, or ever seemed to think of doing, an original thing.”(6)

Moreover, O’Brien says:

“But when he [Poe] asserts in “The Philosophy of Composition” that such a combination of verses into stanzas as that presented in “The Raven,” or anything even remotely approaching it, had never been attempted, he makes a severe demand on our power to assent. Had he never read any of the various verses to which we have just referred?”(7)

The passage from Poe referred to is as follows:

“Of course, I pretend to no originality in either the rhythm or metre of the “ Raven.” The former is trochaic the latter is octameter acatalectic, alternating with heptameter catalectic repeated in the refrain of the fifth verse, and terminating with tetrameter catalectic. Less pedantically — the feet employed throughout (trochees) consist of a long syllable followed by a short: the first line of the stanza consists of eight of these feet — the second of seven and a half (in effect two-thirds) — the third of eight — the fourth of seven and a half — the fifth the same — the sixth three and a half. Now, each of these lines, taken individually, has been employed before, and what originality the “Raven” has, is in their combination into stanza; nothing even remotely approaching this combination has ever been attempted.”(8) [page 58:]

Of the poems of Mangan's to which O’Brien refers, the following belong to the period before the publication of “The Raven”: “The Howling Song of Al Mohara,” “Twenty Golden Years Ago,” “Night is Falling,” “The Ride Around the Parapet,” “The Wail and Warning of the Three Khalendeers,” “The Time ere the Roses were Blowing,” and “The Karamanian Exile.”

But when we have read these poems we are forced to admit that there is in none of them any such combination of verses into stanzas as is found in “ The Raven.” Suggestions of it are there, but suggestions no more striking than are to be found in other Romantic poets. On the other hand, a poem from Mangan's pen, which is more suggestive of “The Raven” than any other of his poems, did not appear until after “The Raven” was published. It is entitled “The Saw-Mill,” and a single stanza of it is repeated here:

Let us attempt to gather up the threads of what has been said of the Poe-Mangan hypothesis. Since there is no direct evidence available in this case, since Mangan is not the only source from whom Poe could have derived the suggestion for his poetry of 1845 and later, and since Mangan, as has been indicated before, was totally unknown, at that time, outside of Ireland, except through the pages of the Dublin University Magazine, which Poe may or may not have seen, — would it not be more logical to seek a solution to the affinity in another quarter?

It can be shown with reasonable certainty that both men had at least one common source from which they might have, unconsciously perhaps, imitated, each with his own peculiar genius, those graces of technique which commentators have declared the one owes to the other.

It seems probable that Mangan drank in much, both of form and content, from the poetry of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Critics familiar with the work of both men have remarked common traits. Lloyd R. Morris says:

“Mangan's work, like that of Coleridge, to whom he bears some [page 59:] resemblance, is characterized by a powerful and tortured imagination and great lyric beauty. . .”(9)

In another place is found a casual remark dropped by Father O’Neill. It is in reference to a certain poem of Mangan's which, the author says, is “ of very little interest.” And he adds: “It recalls the moralizing of Coleridge at his weakest. . . .”(10)

Still another observer remarks:

There is much convincing evidence, on the other hand, to uphold a belief that Coleridge influenced Poe. It will be enough to cite one instance. Harry T. Baker, in an article entitled, “Coleridge's Influence on Poe's Poetry,” points out many specific similarities in the poetry of Coleridge and Poe and compares lines from “The Raven” and “Christabel,” “The Sleeper” and “Christabel,” and “The City in the Sea” and “The Ancient Mariner” to show that “the indebtedness of Poe as a poet to Coleridge is greater and more specific than is commonly believed.” The same critic points out that it was Coleridge who furnished Poe with a model for that particular feature of his poetry, the presence of which accounts for much of its beauty, and whose presence in Poe's poetry other critics have accounted for by alleging that Mangan was the source. He says:

“. . . it has long been known, of course, that the repetends of Ulalume, Lenore, and The Raven were suggested by Coleridge in Christabel and other poems.”(12)

Thus we see that there is not a great deal of probability in favor of the hypothesis that Poe copied from Mangan; and, at the same [page 60:] time it appears certain that they both drew draughts from the same literary well.

However, the prime purpose of this treatise is to estimate the genius of Mangan. Nothing that has been said is calculated to diminish that genius; rather it is intended that something be brought to its glory. Even though Mangan's critics have been bold enough to let the world behold him in the light of a literary star of such magnitude as Poe, his genius is still discernible and distinct. This fact alone should be enough to win for him an immortality of fame. But there is something else that remains to be said. It is not known that he ever revised any single line of his purely original work. What Mangan might have accomplished had he been the meticulous self-critic, the perennial reviser that Poe was, can scarcely be estimated. He was truly the “bewildered poet,” unconscious of the power of his own genius. One salient instance, in which he revised a translated poem, furnishes proof of what he might have done for the whole body of his work.

The first two stanzas of Buerger's Lenore as they appeared in the Dublin University Magazine in November 1834 run:

As they appeared in the same magazine more than twelve years later, December 1846, they were as follows:

The German has:

The improvement in rhythm and melody exhibited in Mangan's stanzas of 1846 is at once unmistakable, as also it becomes clear that these stanzas, unlike those of the 1834 version, follow closely in every detail the original German. However, the ability which Mangan showed in later years to copy the melody and meter of an original with such precision as this, is evidence that he might have turned this skill to good use in revising many more of his earlier poems.

It will be noted also that he had made himself proficient in the occasional use of the anapest. With reference to this, Mangan must be marked, along with Coleridge, Byron, and Scott, all of whom undoubtedly influenced him, as one of the pace-makers of English [page 62:] metrics. His success as a poet is largely due to his use of the trisyllabic foot. William Larminie says:

“Some feeble attempts to use such feet will be found in the ‘Shepherd's Calendar’ of Spenser. They will also be found much more successfully employed in some lyrics of the Restoration period. But in general they are neglected. And Coleridge was the first poet who conspicuously displayed their capabilities. He was followed, as is well known, to some extent by Scott and Byron. Moore showed great mastery of the new system, and so also did other Irish poets of a later period, notably Mangan, some of whose verse, on the metrical side, even Mr. Swinburne could hardly improve. Here is an example:

One of the charges against Mangan is that he was deficient in his sense of quantity. Omond says:

“. . . Quantity is perhaps made too much a fetish; but recognition of it is so rare in our prosodies that one welcomes even an exaggerated respect for it. Why should Mangan's lines be praised above others, when they contain quantities like those marked in the following? —

It is true that occasionally sudden discord strikes the ear when we read Mangan's poems; but there are not enough of these mistakes to spoil the harmony of his verses, and there are in his poetry many lines of surpassing excellence.

In the following stanza from Goethe we can see how aptly he could measure the quantity of his vowels, graduating them in his lines and blending them with liquids and soft sibilants: [page 63:]

Mangan's worst fault was perhaps his inability to match rimes. Though many of the faults he manifests in this respect are excusable on the ground that he sang as he spoke, and that he spoke Celtic English, nevertheless there are times when his labored efforts are to us today flagrantly offensive. Rimes such as cork and work (p. 38),(15) bar and war (p. 39), post and lost (p. 53), death and beneath (p. 193) are simply “eye-rimes “ to the modern reader, and occur often enough to disturb him. Such a rime, for example, as blossom and bosom he uses over and over in his verse. With him, vowels in unaccented syllables are not given quality: he rimes despot and respite (p. 67), laurels and carols (p. 176). We may question such rimes as volumes and columns (p. 39), hotter and water (p. 51), driven and heaven (p. 60), slower and more (p. 101), starry and tarry (p. 109), throne and on (p. 110), house (noun) and boughs (p. 129), belie her and Freiherr (p. 141), earth and forth (p. 143), and entreaty and pity (p. 143). The rime newly and July (p. 160) is no rime at all; and the attempt to rime qualm ill with saw-mill is just as far-fetched. He spoils the effect of an entire stanza of his translation of Buerger's The Abduction of the Lady Gertrude von Hochburg by giving it this final rime:

Despite these faults, however, Mangan yet remains a great poet. His lyric power is unquestionable. His poems that root in the lore and love of his native land are strong and stirring and sincere. To be convinced of this, one need read only Dark Rosaleen, Soul and Country, Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan, the Lament for Banba, and the Lament for the Princes of Tyrone and Tyrconnell. The Love Ballad is a deeply emotional song whose pathos well nigh matches that of Annabel Lee. So, too, the noble piece, St. Patrick's Hymn before Tarah, with its swelling music, its solemn pace, its rising strength, is a noteworthy contribution to the revival of the spirit of ancient Irish poetry.

Returning again to criticism by way of comparison, we hold, however, that Mangan's poems, though rich in emotional value, are not to be compared to Poe's, either with regard to the depth or range of the emotion. The Nameless One and the Broken-Hearted Lays have an autobiographical note that elicits our deepest sympathy, and it is in this ability to arouse pity that he is the true lyrist. But he was not so alive to the sources of beauty and sublimity in nature as Poe was.

With regard to the affinity between Mangan and Poe, it does not appear that, beyond the resemblances of form and the similarity of the pervasive tone of melancholy in the poetry of each, there is any great degree of likeness in the poetry itself. In substance and poetical conception, Poe's poetry rises high above Mangan's. Mangan perceived, as has been said, but few of the beauties of life and nature, and his gloomy lines sing of an unhappiness and hopelessness that is akin to despair. Almost every line of his verse is a confession of a strange and dark philosophy of optimism through which he looks forward with a bright eye toward his tomb; and in The Dying Enthusiast he sings:

But with Poe it is different. With him the elements of gloom and sorrow are made the artist's pawn, and with consummate skill and cunning design he weaves into his emotional conception a beauty that is beyond sheer genius, that shines through a plan and a pattern, and that bespeaks the nobleness of classicism.

In The Raven it is the harmonious combination of so many elements of beauty that give it value as a work of art. Poe himself confesses that in this poem he used the elements of sorrow as the artist's tool;(15 [[16]]) but at the same time we are forced to admit that the poem itself, for all this, rings none the less sincerely.

Likewise Poe brought the uses of his technique to a higher artistic end than did Mangan. Mangan in his Dark Rosaleen chose words for his refrain which would submit to emphasis, and which may have been profusely suggestive and symbolic to the Celt, but not to others; whereas, Poe's “ nevermore” is an impressive and sublime word, which gives emphasis to the entire theme, and which is just as suggestive in one hemisphere as in another. Moreover, Poe, in his use of the repetend, was able to diffuse the key-words more widely through a given poem, as in Ulalume.(16 [[17]])

To recapitulate: we have seen that Poe and Mangan both made use of a certain technique; that in the effective use of that technique Poe excelled; that the best of Mangan's work in this line did not appear until after Poe's masterpiece had been published; that, while it cannot be positively denied that Mangan influenced Poe, there is no direct evidence to support such an assertion; that, on the other hand, if a possible source must be pointed out, though Poe himself denies he had a source, there is such a source, and a very probable one. It has also been seen that Mangan was a poet of unquestionable merit and genius, but that his work, apart from the technique, differs widely from that of Poe. [page 66:]

It has been shown that the two men, as regards life and genius, were alike in certain respects because they were affected by a disease common to both. Also, an attempt has been made to show that the similarity in their poetry does not extend beyond certain resemblances of technique, and that, as a whole, the poetry of Mangan differs much from that of Poe.

So, then, it appears that likeness in genius and life has led critics to exaggerate beyond reasonable limits the similarities to be found in the poetry of Mangan and of Poe.

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