Animal Metaphors

This episode deals with the use of animal metaphors in Poe’s works - concentrating on The Conqueror Worm and perhaps the most well-known of all poetic metaphors - The Raven.

And imagine that (instead or a raven) Poe used an owl - or a parrot.  What differences might that change in metaphors make?

Transcript

George - bold
Ghost of Mr. Poe - bold, italics

First, I think I better start by saying what a metaphor is - in case you have forgotten and need a reminder.   Think of it this way -

A metaphor is like a shortcut for understanding something. It compares two things that are different, but have some shared feature, in a way that isn't literally true. Instead of saying "This problem is really hard," you might say "This problem is a mountain I need to climb." Both involve difficulty and effort, but one is obviously not climbing a literal mountain!

Here are some key points about metaphors:

Comparison, not literal: It's not saying they are actually the same thing, just that they share some qualities.

Vivid and creative: It helps paint a picture in your mind and understand something in a new way.

In Poes’ story “The Tell Tale Heart” the crazed narrator talks about the old man’s vulture eye - now Poe is not literally comparing the old man to a vulture or saying that the old man IS a vulture, but is communicating that the old man's "vulture eye" reflects the narrator's own disturbing thoughts and emotion - or at least that is how it could be interpreted.

GHOST SOUND

Why it is the ghost of Mr. Poe.  Hello, Mr. Poe.

Greetings, Mr. Bartley - I certainly hope that no one actually thinks I was trying to say the old man was a vulture.

I doubt that.

Mr. Poe, Today I want to try and get a handle on the use of animal metaphors.

Certainly, Mr. Bartley - a most laudable undertaking.

The first work of yours is a bit abstract, because it ultimately deals with death, but uses the image of a worm, stressing that this is not any ordinary worm but like death is a conqueror worm.   Mr. Poe - would you care to read this poem in its entirety.

I would be most honored - Ah, Mr. Botley, The Conqueror Worm

Lo! ’t is a gala night
   Within the lonesome latter years!   
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
   In veils, and drowned in tears,   
Sit in a theatre, to see
   A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully   
   The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,   
   Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
   Mere puppets they, who come and go   
At bidding of vast formless things
   That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
   Invisible Wo!
That motley drama—oh, be sure   
   It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore   
   By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in   
   To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,   
   And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout,
   A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out   
   The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs   
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
   In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all!   
   And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
   Comes down with the rush of a storm,   
While the angels, all pallid and wan,   
   Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”   
   And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

Mr. Poe - one might say in The Conqueror Worm, you are not literarily writing about a creepy, crawling worm - but using the theatre and a worm as metaphors for the inevitability of death.

Yes, Mr. Bartley, one might perceive The Conqueror Worm to be more than a little disturbing.

Mr. Poe - I am sure that most listeners realize by now that we have not discussed your most famous work dealing with an animal - The Raven.
From what I understand two of your original choices for The Raven were a parrot, and later an owl.   Why did you change your mind?  In other words, why did you choose a raven instead of a parrot or owl?

Ah, Mr. Bartley - While it has been pointed out by various scholars that parrots could speak, they lacked the dark and ominous presence that I desired. The association of parrots with mimicry might have felt too comical for the poem's serious tone.

And while owls are viewed as wise and symbolic, owls can also represent knowledge and insight, which did not align with the theme of unending grief and haunting memories. Their silent nocturnal nature might have clashed with the poem's need for a vocal creature.

Fascinating, Mr. Poe.

And while I was known for his meticulous crafting of literary elements, I understood that choosing the right symbol played a crucial role in establishing the poem's atmosphere and meaning.  I sincerely feel that choice of a raven expresses the feelings of loss and despair I wanted to communicate.

In summary, Mr. Poe, would you close this podcast’s look at your use of animals in your works with The Raven?

Certainly, Mr. Bartley.  And dear listener, may I offer as a thought experiment - while I recite The Raven, instead of the ebony bird that you know from literature - imagine that I am using an owl - or a parrot.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
            Nameless here for evermore.

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
            This it is and nothing more.”

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
            Darkness there and nothing more.

    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 stillness 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.

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
            With such name as “Nevermore.”

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
            She shall press, ah, nevermore!

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    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 lamp-light 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!

Join us for the next episode of Celebrate Poe for more episodes dealing with Poe’s dream poems.

Sources include  perplexity.ai, Edgar Allan Poe, Edgar Allan Poe: A Critical Biography by Arthur Hobson Quinn, The Poe Log: A Documentary Life of Edgar Allan Poe by Dwight Thomas and David K. Jackson, and The Reason for the Darkness of the Night by John Tresch.

Thank you for listening to Celebrate Poe.