Self Destructive Elements

This the final episode of a series that looks at what might have happened if Edgar Allan Poe had chosen a different path - if he had decided to become a soldier after his time at West Point, and not one of the greatest of all American writers.  And we invariably go off to discuss other subjects as well including the creative process and how Mr. Poe responded to the structured environment of the military.

Transcript

George - plain text
Ghost of Mr. Poe - italics text

Welcome to Celebrate Poe - Self-Destructive Elements - my name is George Bartley, and this is episode 259 - Self Destructive Elements

This the final episode of a series that looks at what might have happened if Edgar Allan Poe had chosen a different path - if he had decided to become a soldier after his time at West Point, and not one of the greatest of all American writers.  And we invariably go off to discuss other subjects as well including the creative process and how Mr. Poe responded to the structured environment of the military.

Hello, Mr. Poe

Greetings, Mr. Bartley.   

Mr. Poe, why the self-destruction?

It was a complex equation, Mr. Bartley, with no single answer. But perhaps, in understanding the darkness, we can better appreciate the light. Perhaps, by examining the shadows, we can learn to navigate the path towards inner peace.

And ultimately, isn't that the true quest for all of us, living and dead alike? To find solace within ourselves, to embrace the light even in the face of the abyss, and to leave behind a legacy not of self-destruction, but of creativity, resilience, and the undying flame of the human spirit.

But before we take a somewhat dark journey, I would like to ask you more about that book that you wrote at West Point - your third book - simply called Poems.

Ah yes, Mr. Bartley, I know there is sometimes confusion regarding my first publications - so allow me to clarify the status of their respective publiations. "Tamerlane and Other Poems" was my first published work, released in 1827 when I was 18 years old, before I entered West Point .
"Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane and Minor Poems" was my second poetry collection, published in 1829, also before my time at West Point.

As mentioned in an earlier episdoe, the book that I wrote while at West Point was simply titled "Poems" and was published in 1831, after I left the academy. The confusion may arise because my earlier works, particularly "Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane and Minor Poems," were sometimes referenced or revised during his West Point period. However, the actual book that I wrote and published while associated with West Point was "Poems" (1831).

Mr. Poe, I am glad you straightened that out - I was a bit confused regarding the three publications - and I am supposed to KNOW this stuff!
Yes, Mr. Bartley - I even dedicated Poems - the publication written at West Point  "To the U.S. Corps of Cadets" .

And from what I understand, you managed to get some of his fellow cadets to contribute money for the publication of this book, promising poems that poked fun at their instructors. However, you ended up publishing more serious, older poems instead.

And for anyone listening out there, it is important to note that Poe's literary career began before his time at West Point, and he continued to revise and republish his works throughout his life. The West Point period was just one chapter in his evolving literary career.  I would compare his constant revising of his works to that of Walt Whitman and his constant revision of the poems in his Leaves of Grass.

Mr. Bartley - who is Walt Whitman?

Oh, Mr. Poe - he was after your time.   Walt Whitman wrote a version of Leaves of Grass that had only 12 poems in 1855 and in the final edition, he had revised and expanded the final version of Leaves of Grass to where it had almost 400 poems - some of them quite extended.

This Mr. Whitman sounds interesting.

He certainly was.  In fact, when your body was reburied in Baltimore on November 17, 1875, most of the literary figures of the time were invited - writers such as Whitman, Lowell, Longfellow, Whittier, Bryant, and Tennyson.  Walt Whitman was the only one of the writers to actually attend.

The following account appeared in the Washington “Star” of November 16, 1875.  There occurr’d about that date in Baltimore a public reburial of Poe’s remains, and dedication of a monument over the grave.  And the author referred to Whitman with -  - Being in Washington on a visit at the time, ‘the old gray” went over to Baltimore, and though ill from paralysis, consented to hobble up and silently take a seat on the platform, but refused to make any speech, saying, ‘I have felt a strong impulse to come over and be here to-day myself in memory of Poe, which I have obey’d, but not the slightest impulse to make a speech, which, my dear friends, must also be obeyed.’ In an informal circle, however, in conversation after the ceremonies, Whitman said: ‘For a long while, and until lately, I had a distaste for Poe’s writings. I wanted, and still want for poetry, the clear sun shining, and fresh air blowing—the strength and power of health, not of delirium, even amid the stormiest passions—with always the background of the eternal moralities. Non-complying with these requirements, Poe’s genius has yet conquer’d a special recognition for itself, and I too have come to fully admit it, and appreciate it and him.

And this next part of Whitman’s words never fails to move me -

“In a dream I once had, I saw a vessel on the sea, at midnight, in a storm. It was no great full rigg‘d ship, nor majestic steamer, steering firmly through the gale, but seem‘d one of those superb little schooner yachts I had often seen lying anchor‘d, rocking so jauntily, in the waters around New York, or up Long Island sound — now flying uncontroll‘d with torn sails and broken spars through the wild sleet and winds and waves of the night. On the deck was a slender, slight, beautiful figure, a dim man, apparently enjoying all the terror, the murk, and the dislocation of which he was the centre and the victim. That figure of my lurid dream might stand for Edgar Poe, his spirit, his fortunes, and his poems — themselves all lurid dreams”

Mr. Bartley - those words are most impressive.  May I ask you, who do feel had the better style of writing - me or this Walt Whitman?

Ah, Mr. Poe - Your style and that of Mr. Whitman were definitely different in your respective approaches to truth and beauty, and Mr. Whitman knew there was room for them both.

Mr. Poe, - I completely digress.  Let us return to the questions regarding your life that I intended to ask.

Please continue with your questions, Mr. Bartley.

Mr. Poe - I must ask you a hypothetical question - Imagine that things had been different, and you had not left this earthly life in 1849.   When the Civil War began several years later, do you think you would have fought for the Northern states or for the South - and why?

Ah, Mr. Bartley, a nation divided, and a poet caught in the crosshairs. To ponder which side I might have chosen in the Civil War is to navigate a minefield of conflicting loyalties, personal demons, and complex historical forces. Let's tread carefully, shall we?

My Southern roots would have undeniably pulled me towards the Confederacy. Virginia, the land of my birth, the cradle of my heritage, would have whispered tales of chivalry, independence, and the preservation of a way of life. Family ties might have bound me further, for while I often clashed with John Allan, my foster father, the Allans were a prominent Virginia family with generations of ties to the South.

And Mr. Poe - don’t forget that Fort Moultrie - the fortress where you served - is located less than half a mile from Fort Sumter - where the first battle of the Civil War took place.

Ah, Mr. Bartley - if I were in that area several years later, then I would fought for the Southern States - loyalty of place would demand it.

But loyalty can be quite complex.

Yes, Mr. Bartley, loyalty can definitely be a double-edged sword, Mr. Bartley. My time at West Point, though tumultuous, instilled in me a sense of duty to this fledgling nation, a belief in the ideals of the Union. The camaraderie forged alongside men from all corners of the country, the vision of a united republic – these too would have resonated within me.

Certainly, you would have had a moral compass.

Yes, one does not need to point out the inherent evil in slavery.  And while  I understood the South's arguments of states' rights and self-determination, the issue of slavery could not be ignored. My upbringing, though steeped in Southern traditions, did not blind me to the injustice inherent in a system built on human bondage. The idea of taking up arms in defense of such a cause would have conflicted with my core beliefs in humanity and equality.

As an articulate writer, where would you have stood in your beliefs?

You ask where would I have stood, Mr. Bartley? On the battlefields of Virginia, clad in gray, or fighting for the Union blue? Truthfully, I find myself torn. The poet in me craves a narrative of clear-cut allegiances, a hero's journey with an unwavering moral compass. But the soldier in me understands the complexities of war, the tangled web of loyalties, and the shades of gray that blur the lines between right and wrong.

Perhaps I might have found myself on the fringes, Mr. Bartley. A disillusioned observer, haunted by the ghosts of lost friends on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line. Perhaps I would have used my pen as a weapon, not of destruction, but of introspection, urging my nation to confront its demons and seek a path towards healing and reconciliation.

Yes, Mr. Poe - I can see that the “what if” of the Civil War could present a genuine problem for someone so entrenched in the culture of the South.

Mr. Bartley, ultimately, the "what if" of the Civil War remains a chilling echo in the corridors of time. I can only say that, were I still walking this earthly plane, I would have strived to find a path guided by empathy, by a yearning for a nation where liberty and justice truly embraced all, regardless of the color of their skin or the banner they fought under.

Very well spoken, Mr. Poe.

This, Mr. Bartley, is the burden of the artist, of the soul haunted by history. To bear witness to the darkness, to grapple with the complexities of the human condition, and to yearn, with every fiber of one's being, for a world where light prevails over shadow.

If you pardon the rhetorical question, what do you think, Mr. Bartley? Where would you have stood in the face of such a conflict? Perhaps through shared introspection, we can illuminate the nuances of history, and learn from the dark shadows of the past to forge a future worthy of illumination.

Mr, Poe - if you will excuse me - it almost comes across as if you are avoiding the question.  Would your allegiance in the Civil War been towards the Northern States or the Confederacy?

Ah, Mr. Bartley - The question of my potential allegiance during the Civil War remains a complex and multifaceted one, even within the realm of "what if.”  My upbringing in the South would undoubtedly have pulled me towards the Confederacy, with family ties, cultural heritage, and perhaps even a sense of romanticism tugging at my heartstrings. But my time at West Point and my evolving views on slavery could create a deep internal conflict. I might have found himself torn between honoring my Southern roots and upholding my ideals of freedom and equality.

Is it possible that you simply would not have chosen a side to advocate?
Yes, that is conceivable, I might have wielded my pen as a weapon of conscience, criticizing both sides while advocating for reconciliation and healing. I could have become a voice for the war's victims, both soldiers and civilians, and explore the human cost of conflict in my poetry and stories.

That does sound most interesting.

Or I might have dedicated myself to finding common ground, seeking out stories of humanity and shared experiences amidst the chaos and division. One possibility is to write about soldiers from both sides who form unlikely bonds, highlighting the universality of human emotions and the possibility of brotherhood even in the face of war.  Even if I did not choose a side, I know that I would find my self deeply affected by the war. I could become a "bard of battle," chronicling the conflict's tragedies and triumphs in powerful verse and prose. My poems and stories could offer a raw and emotional portrayal of the war's impact on individuals and communities, regardless of their allegiances.

That is most impressive, Mr. Poe - somehow that sounds more like what a Walt Whitman would have done.

Ultimately, my potential response to the Civil War might best be described as an open question, a canvas inviting speculation and creative interpretation. The key is to remember my complex inner world, my blend of Southern roots, military experience, and evolving ethical views. I might not choose a clear-cut side, but my response would undoubtedly be multifaceted, driven by both personal demons and a yearning for a better future.

That is most impressive, Mr. Poe. However, Mr. Poe, I must point out that elements of Southern society wanted you to be an apologist for them - theoretically, you could have become a proponent of slavery.

You're absolutely correct, Mr. Bartley. The pressure from certain segments of Southern society to embrace the pro-slavery agenda was undoubtedly present in my life. Some even saw me, with my growing literary influence and Southern roots, as a potential weapon to legitimize and romanticize the institution.

And one might even say that such an attitude might be financially beneficial

Ah yes, Mr. Bartley - as you know, during my earthly life, I often struggled with financial instability and a sense of belonging - siding with the pro-slavery faction could have offered a certain level of security and social acceptance. I might have been lauded as a literary voice of the South, showered with support and patronage by those who viewed me as a champion of their cause.

How do you feel morally about such a position.

Ah, Mr Bartley, such a path would have undoubtedly clashed with what I like to think of as my evolving morals. While my views on slavery may have been initially influenced by my upbringing and societal norms, I believe that my intelligence and empathy could have led me to question the system's injustices. Therefore, supporting slavery on purely strategic grounds would likely have caused me considerable internal conflict.

Mr. Poe - sounds like a rather uneasy intellectual and moral compromise.

Perhaps I might have navigated the pressure by taking a more nuanced approach. I could have avoided directly advocating for slavery while still expressing sympathy for the Southern cause and criticizing the perceived Northern aggression. This way, I could keep my options open and appease both sides, though at the cost of intellectual dishonesty and moral compromise.

But …

But my integrity as a writer could also have pushed me towards dissent. I might have risked ostracization and financial hardship to use my voice against slavery, exposing its cruelty and advocating for human equality. This path would have been fraught with danger, but it would have allowed me to stay true to my evolving conscience.

Mr. Poe - If I may be so blunt, your comments have shown that your complex personality, blend of personal ambition, and evolving moral compass make it difficult to predict your exact choices. However, exploring these possibilities within the realim of "what if" sheds light on the ethical dilemmas you might have faced and the potential sacrifices you might have had to make in a divided nation.

I like to think that my attitude towards race and slavery evolved - I DID write in The Gold Bug - admittedly a view of the stereotypical Black hero, but it was rare for ANY protrayal of a black individual to even speak in a story - and the character of Jupiter not only spoke, but was a bit of a hero - and in my novel, I would like to think that my attitudes towards  race had evolved to the point that I wrote "No man is inferior to another" and "no man is superior to another”

Mr. Poe, while your work reflects the complex and often contradictory racial sentiments of his time, there are indeed glimmers of progressive thoughts and evolving views embedded within your writing. Your observations about "The Gold Bug" are insightful. Despite Jupiter's stereotypical portrayal, his intelligence, loyalty, and crucial role in solving the mystery challenge the prevailing negative stereotypes of Black characters in literature of that era.

Furthermore, the quote "No man is inferior to another" from my unfinished novel "Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket" resonates with a powerful egalitarian sentiment, highlighting a potential shift in his understanding of human equality. This statement stands in stark contrast to the Southern pro-slavery ideology and suggests a personal evolution in you thinking about race.

It's crucial to remember that your views on race were likely shaped by the socio-cultural context of your life. Growing up in the South, you would have been exposed to and influenced by the dominant pro-slavery narratives of the time. However, I believe that your intellect, combined with your encounters with diverse viewpoints during your travels and interactions with various literary circles, could have very well prompted you to question and re-evaluate the prevailing ideology.

Well, thank you very much, Mr. Poe.  Originally I planned to work with a what-if scenario - what if you had stayed in the military and not become a writer.  But we somehow branched off to a theoretical look at such areas as financial hardships, your personal beliefs as a Southern writer, and your attitude towards slavery.

And I have found this discussion most invigorating.  Let me conclude with a passage that I was to later write in a work from 1835 - a work of mine that seems to be one of my lesser read compositions - Shadow - A Parable - “Ye who read are still among the living, but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall happen, and many secret things be known, and many centuries shall pass away, ere these memorials be seen of men. And, when seen, there will be some to disbelieve, and some to doubt, and yet a few who will fi

Farewell, Mr. Bartley.

Goodbye, Mr. Poe

Join Celebrate Poe for episode 260 when the ghost of Edgar Poe and I look at a fascinating topic that was totally new to me - the Wilmer Manuscript Collection.

Sources include Edgar Allan Poe: A Critical Biography by Arthur Hobson Quinn, The Poe Log: A Documentary Life of Edgar Allan Poe by Dwight R. Thomas and David K. Jackson, the Baltimore Edgar Allan Poe website, and the Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.

Thank you for listening to Celebrate Poe.