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VII
PROSE RESEMBLANCES TO THE BIBLE
An examination of Poe's noblest writings reveals resemblances to the Bible of a most noteworthy kind from the point of structure and style. Of his prose, that part belonging to the literature of feeling — his narrative and descriptive pieces, and especially those whose themes are most solemn and whose utterances are surcharged with emotion — affords the best examples.
The most distinguishing characteristic of Scripture narrative is its extreme simplicity of structure. It moves forward by a succession of co-ordinate sentences and clauses usually connected by “and.” They may be divided almost anywhere by periods, or they may be allowed to flow on undivided through paragraphs, chapters, and books. A scrutiny of chapter after chapter, and book after book, of the Hebrew Bible will show that they begin with “and.” Even in the English translation the only pause for breath, so to speak, from the beginning of Genesis to the end of Numbers, is where Exodus opens with “now,” instead of the “and” of the original. This is due in part to a love for polysyndeton, which shows itself in the repetition of other conjunctions also. But it is chiefly due to naïveté and unconscious simplicity.
Formerly this was called Hebraic, and where the [page 85:] Greek of the New Testament showed the same peculiarity it was charged to the account of Hebraisms. So also were many kindred peculiarities of Hellenistic Greek. Admirers of the New Testament could go to the extreme of claiming its original language was the speech of the Holy Ghost and was therefore absolutely perfect. Others of more worldly and classical proclivities preferred the Greek of the palmy days of Athens, and railed at New Testament Greek as a tongue rendered barbarous and uncouth by Hebrew contaminations. That was before the exhuming of a great body of Greek inscriptions, notes, and letters from the rubbish heaps of the pre-Christian and early Christian centuries — before Deissman arose in Germany and Moulton in England to prove from those new discoveries that the apostles used the common tongue of the civilized world of their day. Since then it has been known that St. John's uninvolved syntactical constructions, with co-ordinate sentences and many “ands,” are not due to Hebrew influence, but characterized the speech of all the peoples of the Roman empire.(1) It is interesting to note how a good guess or a jest will often far outrun special scholarship in reaching valid conclusions. Poe, though merely indulging his humor at the expense of Scotch speech, laid down a proposition which has only recently been [page 86:] demonstrated, to the satisfaction of certain theologians who always assumed a contrary view:
In the sweet “Lily of Nithsdale” we read —
“She's gane to dwell in heaven, my lassie —
She's gane to dwell in heaven; —
Ye’re ow’re pure, quo’ the voice of God,
For dwelling out o’ heaven.”
The ow’re and the o’ of the two last verses should be Anglicized. The Deity, at least, should be supposed to speak so as to be understood.(2)
This modern demonstration of the true nature of the language of the New Testament proves that a prime feature of biblical style is not restricted to the Bible. The loosely connected, uninvolved sentences of the Scriptures are not altogether Hebraic or Hellenistic. They are merely primitive. The like may be found in the speech of all children, and in the writings of all uncultured people to-day. At times even the most highly cultured, when swayed by elemental passions and overborne by the common fears and sorrows of humanity, instinctively and unconsciously return to such simplicity of expression. Hence a skillful author, whatever his natural style or that of his characters under ordinary circumstances, will properly approximate the simple language of the common people and children and the Bible when dealing with the homely and universal experiences of life, or speaking under the influence of dread and woe. In applying this test to Poe it is possible to set the seal [page 85:] of his own approval upon it, for he has left a passage in which his recognition of this law of writing is all the more significant because it is concerned primarily with another question. In discussing the relation of passion to poetry he said, “True passion is prosaic — homely.”(3)
A brief example of biblical narrative may here be set down in order to compare it with Poe's style. It is taken from the beautiful story of the Wooing of Rebekah:
And the servant ran to meet her, and said, “Let me, I pray thee, drink a little water from thy pitcher.” And she said, “Drink, my lord.” And she basted and let down her pitcher upon her hand, and gave him to drink. And when she had done giving him drink, she said, “I will draw water for thy camels also, until they have done drinking. And she basted, and emptied her pitcher into the trough, and ran again unto the well to draw water, and drew for all his camels. And the man wondering at her held his peace, to wit whether the Lord had made his journey prosperous or not.(4)
Placing in juxtaposition with this a paragraph from Poe selected at random from one of his most characteristic tales, the wide differences in vocabulary, style, and structure become at once apparent:
One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend, partaking not so rigidly of the spirit of abstraction, may be shadowed forth, although feebly, in words. A small picture presented the interior of an immensely long and rectangular vault or tunnel, [page 88:] with low walls, smooth, white and without interruption or device. Certain accessory points of the design served well to convey the idea that this excavation lay at an exceeding depth below the surface of the earth. No outlet was observed in any portion of its vast extent, and no torch, or other artificial source of light was discernible; yet a flood of intense rays rolled throughout, and bathed the whole in a ghastly and inappropriate splendor.(5)
These two excerpts of nearly equal length stand far removed from each other. Poe's sentences are diverse in form. They are closely knit together. Subordinate clauses and varied connectives express logical sequences and nice shades of thought. Many polysyllabic and Latinate words are used. Abstract terms occur. Only five times does “and” appear; never at the beginning of a sentence, much less as the opening word of the paragraph, but twice to connect clauses. On the other hand, the biblical passage is marked by great sameness. Variety is obtained only by the introduction of direct discourse between the man and woman, another common feature of primitive narrative. Its sentences are loosely connected. They and the clauses are nearly all co-ordinate. Few words run to two syllables, and only two extend to three syllables; none is longer. Latinate words are conspicuously absent. Abstract terms do not occur. A dozen “ands” appear, always at the beginning of sentences, as the opening word of the paragraph itself, and of almost every clause.
After this catalog of differences between the ordinary [page 89:] narrative of Poe and the Bible, the following citation from another of our author's writings will be all the more impressive:
Then I cursed the elements with the curse of tumult; and a frightful tempest gathered in the heaven, where, before, there had been no wind. And the heaven became livid with the violence of the tempest — and the rain beat upon the head of the man — and the floods of the river came down — and the river was tormented into foam — and the water-lilies shrieked within their beds — and the forest crumbled before the wind — and the thunder rolled — and the lightning fell — and the rock rocked to its foundation. And I lay close within my covert and observed the actions of the man. And the man trembled in the solitude; but the night waned and he sat upon the rock.(6)
Had this been found in the Bible little in it would mark it as alien. Its tone, its rhythm, its sameness, its recurring “ands,” its concreteness, even its paranomasia(7) — how like the Bible, how unlike Poe! Nor does the paragraph differ from its fellows, five of which begin with “and,” three with “then,” one with “but,” and one with “now,” there being only thirteen in all.
The various forms of repetition prominent in the Bible are a marked feature of its style. Most common [page 90:] of them all is the Hebrew parallelism of members, which can best be appreciated in the study of poetry, although it is very frequent in the higher order of prose also. Thus in Ruth's reply to Naomi:
Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.(8)
In a less emotional passage we find the same pairing of thoughts:
I am as thou art, my people as thy people, my horses as thy horses.(9)
Poe's prose also has the like occasionally:
They must sleep or they will devour us — they must be suffered to slumber, or we perish.(10)
Palindromy is a different kind of repetition, the thought circling about and returning to its starting point in a most naive fashion:
God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.(11)
And the land was not able to bear them that they might dwell together. For their substance was very great so that they could not dwell together.(12) [page 91:]
Poe approaches this in the writing already cited as so strikingly biblical in other respects:
It was night, and the rain fell; and falling it was rain, but having fallen, it was blood. And I stood in the morass among the tall lilies, and the rain fell upon my head.
And mine eyes fell upon a huge gray rock which stood by the shore of the river, and was lighted by the light of the moon. And the rock was gray, and ghastly, and tall — and the rock was gray.(13)
In epizeuxis emphasis is sought by the repetition of a word, a favorite device with biblical writers:
Come out, come out thou man of blood, and thou man of Belia1.(14)
I will overturn, overturn, overturn it.(15)
So in Poe:
And holy, holy things were heard of old by the dim leaves that trembled around Dodona.(16)
Is it not — oh, is it not a pitiful sight? ... Is it not — oh, God! is it not a very pitiful sight?(17)
Here then, at least, I shrieked aloud, can I never — can I never be mistaken — these are the full, and the [page 92:] black, and the wild eyes — of my lost love — of the lady — of the Lady Ligeia.(18)
Both the Bible and Poe use the refrain or burden in their more majestic prose. Amos adroitly leads up to the declaration of Israel's doom for her unrighteousness by pronouncing a series of judgments upon the surrounding kingdoms. Each doom is fitted into the same artistic frame work:
Thus saith the Lord; For three transgressions of Damascus, yea for four, I will not turn away the punishment thereof.(19)
So, in identical words, are introduced the sentences pronounced upon eight different nations. Another such burden is employed by Isaiah in a passage occupying the greater part of two chapters, with every paragraph ending:
For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still.(20)
In Eleanora the effect of the recital is heightened by the recurrence at irregular intervals of the clause: “In the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.”(21) Its sevenfold repetition is the more arresting because of the valley's unusual name. But Silence once more stands out as the best example of this rhetorical device. [page 93:] Every paragraph in the body of the weird recital ends with practically identical words:
And I lay close within shelter of the lilies, and observed the actions of the man. And the man trembled in the solitude; — but the night waned and he sat upon the rock.(22)
The musical monotony of this repetition becomes a burden indeed. Poe's use of the refrain in prose is especially noteworthy because he spoke of it in one of his lectures as a thing restricted to poetry alone, and as commonly limited to lyric poetry.(23) But where used by him and the biblical writers outside of poetry the writings are highly poetic and not infrequently lyrical.
Sharply contrasted with rhetorical amplification, which in its “precept upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line,” seems to hold with the principle that “repetition is the only figure of speech worth a farthing,” there are passages marked by the most decided laconism in the Bible and Poe. As an example of condensed yet clear exposition nothing could well surpass the explanation of the Parable of the Tares in St. Matthew:
He that soweth the good seed is the Son of man. The field is the world. The good seed are the children of the kingdom: but the tares are the children of the wicked one. The enemy that sowed them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the world; and the reapers are the angels.(24) [page 94:]
Here the unusual asyndeton adds no little to the condensation. It is one of many products of the nice literary taste of the King James translators. Too great fidelity to the original Greek on the part of the revisers introduced seven additional “ands,” thus expanding and weakening the passage.
Poe was perhaps nowhere more effectually laconic than in his description of the writers whom he reviewed in his Literati of New York City. The following example is the more interesting because it describes a woman he passionately admired, the beautiful Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood:
In person she is about the medium height, slender even to fragility, graceful whether in action or repose; complexion unusually pale; hair very black and glossy; eyes of a clear luminous gray, large and with singular capacity of expression.(25)
In general the Bible is against “vain repetitions.” It exemplifies one of its own principles, “A wise man spareth his words.” Yet it has already been noted that expansion and repetition are much used where needed, no niggardliness of speech being permitted to obscure the meaning or destroy the harmony. There is a certain largeness of utterance in many a noble passage, especially in the orations and sermons in Deuteronomy and the Prophets. Where the thought matter is new and difficult we may find prolixity, as in much of St. Paul's argumentation. Jesus in the New Testament, and the Wise Men in the Old, stand [page 95:] out as masters of brevity. Yet both abound in repetition that is not vain. Christ added example to example, and illustration to illustration, where needed. He greatly expanded many parables by introducing colloquy; as notably in the Rich Foo1(26) and the Pounds.(27) It took more words to say, “men in soft clothing”(28) than “rich men”; more to counsel, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal,”(29) than to say, “Do not trust uncertain riches.” But our Lord knew that, with words as with money, “There is that withholdeth more than is mete, and it tendeth to poverty.”(30) His object was to save men, not words. In short, the principle of Jesus, which was also that of the biblical writers generally, is accurately expressed by Hans Hinrich Wendt: “The principle of aiming at the greatest clearness in the briefest compass.”(31) The number of words needed to achieve his purpose he used whether few or many. Clear statements to convince the intellect, forceful motives to move the will, aesthetic harmonies to make listening a pleasure and performance a joy — none of these was sacrificed to parsimony in words.
Now all this finds its precise analogue in Poe. No man ever hated verbosity more than he. None other ever so appreciated the value of brevity — stories must [page 96:] be short; poems must be short.(32) For him the Homeric virtue of length was not a virtue. Hence no words could be wasted. Yet outside the Bible it would be hard to find one who used the repetend more than he. Like St. Paul, too, he did not hesitate to use many words in his effort to set forth recondite subjects: “On important topics it is better to be a good deal prolix than even a very little obscure.”(33) Using terse and condensed expressions where they were admissible, he would sacrifice no higher interests to them. In his trenchant criticism of Gibbon's style these words are found:
He had three hobbies which he rode to the death, stuffed puppets as they were, and which he kept in condition by the continual sacrifice of all that is valuable in language. These hobbies were Dignity — Modulation — Laconism. ... With him to speak lucidly was a far less merit than to speak smoothly and curtly. There is a way in which, through the nature of language itself, we may often save a few words by talking backwards; and this is therefore a favorite practice with Gibbon. ... The thought expressed could scarcely be more condensed in expression, but for the sake of this condensation, he renders the idea difficult of comprehension, by subverting the natural order of a simple proposition, and placing a deduction before that from which it is deduced.(34)
After rewriting Gibbon's obscure sentence which he had under discussion, he pointed out that by following [page 97:] the natural order he secured clearness with forty words as against Gibbon's thirty-six. Then by abandoning its author's sonorous superfluities he reduced the sentence to intelligible expression in seventeen words. But he immediately added:
Such concision is, nevertheless, an error, and, so far as respects the true object of concision, is a bull. The most truly concise style is that which most rapidly transmits the sense. What, then, should be said of the concision of Carlyle? — that those are mad who admire a brevity which squanders our time for the purpose of economizing our printers ink.(35)
Poe had a high principle of composition which he foresaw always before his face, and from which he could not be moved. That was his “Totality of Effect” — the adaptation of his literary means to his end. In short the principle of Poe, which was also that of the biblical writers generally, is accurately expressed by Charles Alphonso Smith: “How may I produce the maximum of effect with the minimum of means?”(36)
Passing from this consideration of brevity and of the adaptation of means to ends, as found in Poe and the Scriptures, a final quality of biblical prose may be discussed, namely, its archaic dignity and beauty. In the main it may be said that the antique tone and the poetic forms of biblical words are accidental. They [page 98:] are due to our Bible having taken classical form three centuries ago, under strong influences from prior translations running back a century earlier. In those days, what is now quaint was part of the common speech of literary men. The inversions, inflections, and obsolescent words of the Bible have, in great measure, the Elizabethan stamp upon them. Although our speech is now far removed from that of the sixteenth century, the influence of our most familiar English classic is such that our language of religious devotion, and of most elevated and solemn prose, keeps the biblical flavor. As every page of the Bible abounds in the qualities here referred to, it would be superfluous to cite examples.
That Poe should reflect such things in his prose writings is somewhat remarkable. He objected to their employment even in poetry. Mrs. Browning was criticized for the affectation of “adown.”(37) “Thee,” “thou,” and their appropriate verb forms were protested against.(38) “Freedom from these vulgar and particularly English errors — elision and inversion”(39) — was commended. But in passages whose tone required something like Bible diction Poe was constrained to adopt its archaic peculiarities — inversions, quaint words, obsolete inflections and all. Note this passage from the Masque of the Red Death:
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. [page 99:] And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall.(40)
Notice similar qualities in a paragraph from Shadow:
Ye who read are still among the living; but I who write shall long since have gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall happen, and 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 find much to ponder upon in the characters here graven with a stylus of iron.(41)
From the opening “ye” through the “seen of men,” to the final “of iron,” almost all the phraseology is biblical. So also are the antique forms in the opening apostrophe of the Assignation:
Ill-fated and mysterious man! — bewildered in the brilliancy of thine own imagination, and fallen in the flames of thine own youth! Again in fancy I behold thee! Once more thy form bath risen before me! not — oh not as thou art — in the cold valley and shadow — but as thou shouldst be.(42)
Dealing as such passages do with elemental and universal things that have affected men from the dawn of primitive life, their simplicity and solemn dignity are spontaneous.(43) Perhaps they are biblical only as [page 100:] peculiarities of New Testament Greek are Hebraic, the strong resemblance of the one to the other arising from the use by both of the style appropriate to solemn themes, and the language being marked by primitive simplicity. To users of English the power of the Bible is sure to make itself felt in such writings. That power may be traced back to Greek New Testament and Greek Old Testament and Hebrew. What the Hebrew did for the Septuagint, and the Septuagint did for the original New Testament, and the Greek New Testament for the English version, the English version has long done for all our religious and solemn and majestic prose. While its direct influence upon Poe may not be demonstrated to the satisfaction of all critics, along with parallelism and phrasing may be found so many clear reflections of the Bible that resemblances cannot be accidental. Master stylist though he was, Poe was never able to surpass in his more independent productions the power and music of those pieces which were palpably modeled after the Bible.(44)
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 85:]
1 See Deissman, Bible Studies; Moulton, Grammar of New Testament Greek, 3rd ed.. Vol. I. The latter says (p. 5) : “The Holy Ghost spoke absolutely the language of the people. ... The writings inspired by him were those
‘Which he may read who binds the sheaf
Or builds the home, or digs the grave.”’
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 86:]
2 Marginalia, XVI. 81, 82.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 87:]
3 Marginalia. XVI. 56.
4 Gen. 24:17-21.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 88:]
5 Fall of the House of Usher. III. 283.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 89:]
6 Silence, II. 223. Cf. Poe's objection to the use of conjunctions for abrupt beginnings: “The old affectation of beginning a chapter abruptly ... in its most reprehensible form ... that of commencing with an And, a But, or some other conjunction, thus rendering the initial sentence of the chapter in question a continuation of the final sentence of the chapter preceding. ... This piece of frippery need only be pointed out to be despised” (Criticism, VIII. 156) .
7 “The rock rocked.” The Hebrew and Greek originals of the Bible abound in such play upon words to an extent not reproduced in the English translation.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 90:]
8 Ruth. 1:16, 17.
9 1 Kgs. 22:4.
10 The Premature Burial, V. 273.
11 Gen. 1:27.
12 Gen. 13:6.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 91:]
13 Silence, II. 221. This use of palindromy is contrary to English practice, which regards as a palindrome nothing but words and sentences that read the same from both ends. For this use see König. Style of Scripture. Hasting. A Dictionary of the Bible (extra vol. 157) . For the general subject of the technical figures discussed in this and the next chapter. see the whole article (156-169) and the literature listed therein.
14 2 Sam. 16:7.
15 Ezek. 21:27.
16 Silence, II. 224.
17 Premature Burial, V. 268.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 92:]
18 Ligeia, II. 268.
19 Amos 1:3-2:6.
20 Isa. 9:8-10:4.
21 Tales, IV. 237-243.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 93:]
22 Ibid. II. 222, 223.
23 Philosophy of Composition, XIV. 199.
24 Matt. 13:37-39.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 94:]
25 Literati, XV. 104.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 95:]
26 Lk. 12:16-21.
27 Lk. 19:12-27.
28 Matt. 11:8.
29 Matt. 6:19.
30 Prov. 11:24.
31 Teaching of Jesus, Vol. I, p. 130.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 97:]
32 “Nothing ... more vexes the true taste in general than hyperism of any kind” (Criticism, XIII. 186) .
33 Eureka, XVI. 199; cf. “I prefer tautology to a chance of misconception” (ibid., 242. n.) .
34 Marginalia, XVI. 14. 15.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 97:]
35 XVI. 16. He condemned Cooper for obscure brevity (XI. 219) . See also VIII. 143: “The cant of Laconism” (XVI. 122) .
36 Book of the Poe Centenary, The Americanism of Poe, p. 164. Compare with Wendt above. p. 95. and Marginalia, XVI. 82: “To put the greatest amount of thought in the smallest compass.”
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 98:]
37 Criticism, XII. 23.
38 XIII. 36; IX. 290; X. 69, 76.
39 Marginalia, XVI. 58.
[The following footnotes appear at the bottom of page 99:]
40 Tales, IV. 258. Mark also the inversion in the Tell-Tale Heart: “Object there was none. Passion there was none” (V. 88) .
41 Tales, II. 147.
42 Tales, II. 109.
43 See his dictum about the use of the simplest language in grand themes (XI. 22) .
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 100:]
44 Silence, for example, proclaims throughout Poe's debt to that unwasting source of majestic prose. Professor Harrison characterized it as “Perhaps Poe's most majestic piece of prose. worthy of Jean Paul Richter in its music and magnificence” (Biography, I. 134) .
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Notes:
None.
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[S:0 - WMF28, 1928] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Bookshelf - Biblical Allusions in Poe (Forrest)