Poe’s German Soulscape: Influenced by Angst or Anxiety of Influence?

Abstract

This chapter discusses Poe’s ambivalent relationship with German literary influences. It explores a puzzling dilemma: Poe’s familiarity with and use of German sources countered by his reluctance to be affiliated with the German Gothic tradition. Early in his career, Poe capitalized on the popular appeal of the Gothic by embellishing his works with sensationalistic Germanic titles and elements. Despite his apparent fondness for German literature, Poe became increasingly reluctant to associate with the German tradition as his career evolved, since for him the Germanic took on a pejorative connotation. While he alludes frequently to German writers and philosophers like Kant, clearly Poe was haunted by an “anxiety of influence.” Nonetheless, as the second part of the chapter demonstrates, Poe continued to incorporate German sources like Gottfried August Bürger’s “Lenore” poem into his works.

Appendix

Gottfried August Bürger, “Lenora.” Trans. William Taylor of Norwich. Monthly Magazine and British Register 2 (March 1796): 135–137.

L E N O R A.

A BALLAD, FROM BÜRGER.

Verse

Verse At break of day, with frightful dreams Lenora struggled sore: My William, art thou slaine, say’d she, Or dost thou love no more?

Verse

Verse He went abroade with Richard’s host, The Paynim foes to quell; But he no word to her had writt, An he were sick or well.

Verse

Verse With sowne of trump, and beat of drum, His felow-soldyers come; Their helmes bydeckt with oaken boughs, They seeke their long’d-for home.

Verse

Verse And ev’ry roade, an ev’ry lane Was full of old and young, To gaze at the rejoicing band, To hail with gladsome toung.

Verse

Verse “Thank God!” their wives and children saide, “Welcome!” the brides did saye: But greete or kiss Lenora gave To none upon that daye.

Verse

Verse She askte of all the passing traine, For him she wisht to see: But none of all the passing traine Could tell if lived hee.

Verse

Verse And when the soldyers all were bye, She tore her raven haire, And cast herself upon the growne In furious despaire.

Verse

Verse Her mother ran and lyfte her up, And clasped in her arme, “My child, my child, what dost thou ail? God shield thy life from harm!”

Verse

Verse “O mother, mother! William’s gone! What’s all besyde to me? There is no mercye, sure, above! All, all were spar’d but hee!”

Verse

Verse “Kneel downe, thy paternoster saye, ’Twill calm they troubled spright; The Lord is wyse, the Lord is good; What hee hath done is right.”

Verse

Verse “O mother, mother! say not so; Most cruel is my fate: I prayde, and prayde; but watte avayl’d? ’Tis now, alas! Too late.”

Verse

Verse “Our Heavenly Father, if we praye, Will help a suff’ring childe: Go take the holy sacrament; So shall they grief grow milde.”

Verse

Verse “O mother, what I feel within, No sacrament can staye; No sacrament can teche the dead To bear the light of daye.”

Verse

Verse “May be, among the heathen folk Thy William false doth prove, And puts away his faith and troth, And takes another love.

Verse

Verse Then wherefore sorrow for his loss? Thy moans are all in vain: And when his soul and body parte, His falsehode brings him paine.”

Verse

Verse “O mother, mother! Gone is gone: My hope is all forlorn; The grave mie onlye safeguarde is– O, had I ne’er been borne!

Verse

Verse Go out, go out, my lampe of life; In grislie darkness die: There is no mercye, sure, above! For ever let me lie.”

Verse

Verse “Almighty God! O do not judge My poor unhappy childe; She knows not what her lips pronounce, Her anguish makes her wilde.

Verse

Verse My girl, forget thine earthly woe, And think on God and bliss; For so, at least, shall not thy soule Its heavenly bridegroom miss.”

Verse

Verse “O mother, mother! what is blisse, And what the fiend is celle? With him’tis heaven any where, Without my William, helle.

Verse

Verse “Go out, go out, my lamp of life; In endless darkness die: Without him I must loathe the earth, Without him scorne the skye.”

Verse

Verse And so despaire did rave and rage Athwarte her boiling veins; Against the Providence of God She hurdle her impious strains.

Verse

Verse She bet her breaste, and wrung her hands, And rollde her tearlesse eye, From rise of morne, till the pale stars Again did freeke the skye.

Verse

Verse When harke! abroade she hearde the trampe Of nimble-hoofed steed; She hearde a knighte with clank alighte, And climb the staire in speede.

Verse

Verse And soon she herde a tinkling hande, That twirled at the pin; And thro’ her door, that open’d not, These words were breathed in.

Verse

Verse “What ho! what ho! thy dore undoe; Art watching or asleepe? My love, dost yet remember mee, And dost thou laugh or weep?”

Verse

Verse “Ah! William here so late at night! Oh! I have watche and wak’d: Whence dost thou come? For thy return My hearte has sorely ak’d.”

Verse

Verse “At midnight only we may ride; I come o’er land and sea: I mounted late, but soone I go; Aryse, and come with me.”

Verse

Verse “O William, enter first my bowre, And give me one embrace: The blasts athwarte the hawthorne hiss; Awayte a little space.”

Verse

Verse “Tho’ blasts athwarte the hawthorn hiss, I may not harboure here; My spurre is sharpe, my courser pawes, My houre of flighte is nere.

Verse

Verse All as thou lyest upon thy couch, Aryse, and mount behinde; To-night we’le ride a thousand miles, The bridal bed to finde.”

Verse

Verse “How, ride to-night a thousand miles? Thy love thou dost bemocke: Eleven is the stroke that still Rings on within the clocke.”

Verse

Verse “Looke up; the moone is bright, and we Outstride the earthlie men: I’ll take thee to the bridal bed, And night shall end but then.”

Verse

Verse “And where is, then, thy house and home; And where thy bridal bed?” “Tis narrow, silent, chilly, dark; Far hence I rest my head.”

Verse

Verse “And is there any room for mee, Wherein that I may creepe?” “There room enough for thee and mee, Wherein that we may sleepe.

Verse

Verse All as thou ly’st upon thy couch, Aryse, no longer stop; The wedding guests thy coming waite, The chamber dore is ope.”

Verse

Verse All in her sarke, as there she lay, Upon his horse she sprung; And with her lilly hands so pale About her William clung.

Verse

Verse And hurry-skurry forth they go, Unheeding wet or dry; And horse and rider snort and blow, And sparkling pebbles fly.

Verse

Verse How swift the flood, the mead, the wood, Aright, aleft, are gone! The bridges thunder as they pass, But earthly sowne is none.

Verse

Verse Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede; Splash, splash, across the see: “hurrah! the dead can ride apace; Dost feare to ride with mee?

Verse

Verse The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte; Dost quake the blast to stem? Dost shudder, mayde, to seeke the dead?” “No, no, but what of them?

Verse

Verse How glumlie sownes yon dirgye song! Night-ravens flappe the wing, What knell doth slowlie toll ding-dong? The psalmes of death who sing?

Verse

Verse It creeps, the swarthie funeral traine, The corse is onn the beere; Like croke of todes from lonely moores, The chaunte doth meet the eere.”

Verse

Verse “Go, bear her corse when midnight’s past, With song, and tear, and wayle; I’ve gott my wife, I take her home, My bowre of wedlocke hayl.

Verse

Verse Lead forth, O clarke, the chaunting quire, To swell our nuptial song: Come, preaste, and reade the blessing soone; For bed, for bed we long.”

Verse

Verse They heede his calle, and husht the sowne; The biere was seene no more; And followde him ore feeld and flood Yet faster than before.

Verse

Verse Halloo! halloo! away they goe, Unheeding wet or drye; And horse and rider snort and blowe, And sparkling pebbles flye.

Verse

Verse How swifte the hill, how swifte the dale, Aright, aleft, are gone! By hedge and tree, by thorpe and towne, They gallop, gallop on.

Verse

Verse Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede; Splash, splash, acrosse the see: “Hurrah! the dead can ride apace; Dost fear to ride with me?

Verse

Verse Look up, look up, and airy crewe In roundel daunces reele: The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte, Mayst dimlie see them wheele.

Verse

Verse Come to, some to, ye gostlie crew, Come to, and follow mee, And daunce for us the wedding daunce, When we in bed shall be.”

Verse

Verse And brush, brush, brush, the gostlie crew Come wheeling ore their heads, All rustling like the wither’d leaves That wyde the whirlwind spreads.

Verse

Verse Halloo! halloo! away they go, Unheeding wet or dry; And horse and rider snort and blowe, And sparkling pebbles flye.

Verse

Verse And all that in the moonshyne lay, Behynde them fled afar; And backwarde scudded overhead The sky and every star.

Verse

Verse Tramp, tramp, across the lande they speede; Splash, splash, across the see: “Hurrah! the dead can ride apace; Dost fear to ride with me?

Verse

Verse I weene the cock prepares to crowe; The sand will soone be runne: I snuffe the earlye morning aire; Downe, downe! our worke is done.

Verse

Verse The dead, the dead can ryde apace; Oure wed-bed here is fit: Our race is ridde, oure journey ore, Our endlesse union knit.”

Verse

Verse And lo! an yren-grated grate Soon biggens to their viewe: He crackte his whyppe; the clangynge boltes, The doores asunder stewe.

Verse

Verse They pass, and’twas on graves they trode; “’Tis hither we are bounde:” And many a tombstone gostlie white Lay inn the moonshyne round.

Verse

Verse And when hee from his steede alytte, His armour, black as cinder, Did moulder, moulder all awaye, As were it made of tinder.

Verse

Verse His head became a naked skull; Nor haire nor eyne had hee: His body grew a skeleton, Whilome so blythe of blee.

Verse

Verse And att his dry and boney heele No spur was left to be; And inn his witherde hande you might The scythe and hour-glasse see.

Verse

Verse And lo! his steede did thin to smoke, And charnel fires outbreathe; And pal’d, and bleach’d, then vanish’d quite The mayde from underneathe.

Verse

Verse And hollow howlings hung in aire, And shrekes from vaults arose. Then knew the mayde she mighte no more Her living eyes unclose.

Verse

Verse But onwarde to the judgement seat, Thro’ myste and moonlight dreare, The gostlie crewe their flyghte persewe, And hollowe inn her eare:--

Verse

Verse “Be patient; tho’ thyne herte should breke, Arrayne not Heven’s decree; Thou nowe art of thie bodie refte, Thie soule forgiven bee!”