Morrison Marketing

Michael G. Morrison II

Review of Silence, by Edgar Allen Poe

Augusta, Georgia, USA

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From Wikipedia-

     Not to be confused with Poe's short story, "Silence: A Fable," "Silence-A Sonnet" was first published on January 4, 1840, in the Philadelphia Saturday Courier. After some revision, it was republished in the Broadway Journal on July 26, 1845. The poem compares the sea and the shore to the body and the soul. There is a death of the body that is silence, the speaker says, that should not be mourned. He does, however, warn against the silent death of the soul.

Silence: by Edgar Allen Poe, 1829

     "LISTEN to me," said the Demon as he placed his hand upon my head. "The region of which I speak is a dreary region in Libya, by the borders of the river Zaire. And there is no quiet there, nor silence.

(The River Zaire is now called the Congo river and is nowhere near Libya. the modern European understanding was that Libya could be used for just about any description of Africa. The Equatorial Africa is very different from Tropical Africa. It is interesting to think of why Poe was so wrong, was he simply not as good in geography as writing? I think this is so and there is no deeper meaning behind this error)

(This is a powerful opening paragraph that talks with the usual narrator  The river Zaire is in Africa and has a certain feel to its name. It sounds quite exotic, tropical and isolated. The thought of the strength of mother nature comes to mind when thinking of Africa in this way. The entity starting this story being a demon sets the tone for the poem being a tale of dark detail) 

"The waters of the river have a saffron and sickly hue; and they flow not on-wards to the sea, but palpitate forever and forever beneath the red eye of the sun with a tumultuous and convulsive motion. For many miles on either side of the river's oozy bed is a pale desert of gigantic water-lilies. They sigh one unto the other in that solitude, and stretch towards the heaven their long and ghastly necks, and nod to and fro their everlasting heads. And there is an indistinct murmur which cometh out from among them like the rushing of subterranean water. And they sigh one unto the other.

(Water lilies)

(The description of a place that Poe had never seen leads me to believe that he wanted to visit this place or something like it. Although Poe never lived in a true rural setting, he never lived hundreds of miles away from a metropolis like many in his times. Poe did have a good mix of urban/suburban settings where nature was observable in her natural form. Poe was rumored to spend a lot of time on bridges due to the scene they afford on a valley. Poe leaves no doubt to the reader, what this setting appears to be in their mind)

"But there is a boundary to their realm--the boundary of the dark, horrible, lofty forest. There, like the waves about the Hebrides, the low Underwood is agitated continually. But there is no wind throughout the heaven. And the tall primeval trees rock eternally hither and thither with a crashing and mighty sound. And from their high summits, one by one, drop everlasting dew. And at the roots strange poisonous flowers lie writhing in perturbed slumber. And overhead, with a rustling and loud noise, the gray clouds rush westward forever, until they roll, a cataract, over the fiery wall of the horizon. But there is no wind throughout the heaven. And by the shores of the river Zaire there is neither quiet nor silence.

(The Hebrides are some islands on the Northwest coast of Scotland and are where my ancestors came from (Isle of Lewis, north end, around Knockaird) and it represents the edge of civilization. The rugged mountains and the cold atmosphere made it a realm of barbarians, feudal kings and an otherwise dreary superstructure of existence  The feeling of seclusion in this part of the earth is extreme)

(The thought of a man peering over the edge of a 100 foot drop with waves slamming most furiously against the rocks at the foot of the drop comes into mind. The falling of that man and entering into a cove hidden by the caves in the silent, cold, dark and wet setting invokes the most lonely of feelings and the most subordination to the great mother nature)

"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 and the rain fell upon my head --and the lilies sighed one unto the other in the solemnity of their desolation.

(I do not know the meaning behind this paragraph. I think the falling if the rain as blood is confusing to me. I would be interested to hear some suggestions or to ponder this on a later date when reading this short story)

"And, all at once, the moon arose through the thin ghastly mist, and was crimson in color. 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. Upon its front were characters engraved in the stone; and I walked through the morass of water-lilies, until I came close unto the shore, that I might read the characters upon the stone. But I could not decipher them. And I was going back into the morass, when the moon shone with a fuller red, and I turned and looked again upon the rock, and upon the characters;--and the characters were DESOLATION.

(This picture provokes a good image of what this scene may have looked like)

(The light of the moon draws the characters eyes directly to the rock in a hypnotic manner that is usual of Poe's stories. The character is usually induced by acts of nature that seem to almost indicate a power above controlling all of this and laughing in a way at the man and his scurrying around of Mother natures territory. The rock represents knowledge for some reason in my mind. My associations with the rock are eschewed by advertising by the many financial firms that advertise their logo as a rock to indicate that it is solid and safe and eternal)

"And I looked upwards, and there stood a man upon the summit of the rock; and I hid myself among the water-lilies that I might discover the actions of the man. And the man was tall and stately in form, and was wrapped up from his shoulders to his feet in the toga of old Rome. And the outlines of his figure were indistinct--but his features were the features of a deity; for the mantle of the night, and of the mist, and of the moon, and of the dew, had left uncovered the features of his face. And his brow was lofty with thought, and his eye wild with care; and, in the few furrows upon his cheek I read the fables of sorrow, and weariness, and disgust with mankind, and a longing after solitude.

(This is another confusing paragraph that adds to the mystery and analogies of a Poe story. The Roman appearance of the man may simply be due to the fact that most literary figures of French, German, English and Italian studied or are influenced greatly by the Roman works, whether it be Roman itself or a copy of Greek work into Latin and embraced by Romanesque writers. The man that is being observed may be what the observer wants to be in a way. the main character may have envision himself as a Roman of that sort in his childhood fantasies)

(The Sadness of the Roman is not that strange or meaningful  Poe was very melancholy and morbid and a happy Roman would have been much more worthy of a second thought to a deeper meaning, but I doubt this does)

"And the man sat upon the rock, and leaned his head upon his hand, and looked out upon the desolation. He looked down into the low unquiet shrubbery, and up into the tall primeval trees, and up higher at the rustling heaven, and into the crimson moon. 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.

(This may be like a cycle where the rock pulls people to seek it guidance from the ages. The Roman is sitting upon the rock like Buddha sat underneath the a tree until figuring out how why the world has extremes as it does. The contemplation and reflection from such a view is very ancient and reassuring, the vantage point allows maximum interpenetration of the surrounding and the distinction between the rock and the rest of the setting is apparent, there is something about this rock. The dirt, trees, air, water, lilies, clouds and all other physical existence is not as eternal, not as interesting as this rock)

"And the man turned his attention from the heaven, and looked out upon the dreary river Zaire, and upon the yellow ghastly waters, and upon the pale legions of the water-lilies. And the man listened to the sighs of the water-lilies, and to the murmur that came up from among them. 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.

(The reasons for sitting on the rock are still numerous, why does the man not leave? Is he even a man or a ghost or what? And is he sulking? Is it because his wife died? Is it because he is to die? did his lives work go to waste? Was he banished? Was he back-stabbed  What happened? The curiosity from both the main character and the reader is intense at this point. I feel I have to know why this man is here)

(The man trembling in solitude is an ode to how weak we are alone, but very strong together. The huddling together of soldiers in a cold bunker in a remote region in pre-electricity days  the bundling of a blanket with a childhood friend, the sharing of hot bath water with family members meets its opposite. The warming and loving feelings of companionship can be leveraged by the natural setting they are in)

"Then I went down into the recesses of the morass, and waded afar in among the wilderness of the lilies, and called unto the hippopotami which dwelt among the fens in the recesses of the morass. And the hippopotami heard my call, and came, with the behemoth, unto the foot of the rock, and roared loudly and fearfully beneath the moon. 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.

(A very confusing piece. I have no idea what this is to mean)

"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.

(Poe used the darkening of the sky in at least 2 stories, the setting invokes so much of the character that it is an easy way to get the story across)

     (The reason for this man being on the rock is now apparent to me. He is suffering the tumults of nature as a punishment for something. The Rock is his boundaries and the elements of nature are his time served. The judge is not human and the crime committed must have been weird enough to warrant this punishment from a natural source. This reminds me something of Job in the way the man handles it)

     "Then I grew angry and cursed, with the curse of silence, the river, and the lilies, and the wind, and the forest, and the heaven, and the thunder, and the sighs of the water-lilies. And they became accursed, and were still. And the moon ceased to totter up its pathway to heaven --and the thunder died away --and the lightning did not flash --and the clouds hung motionless --and the waters sunk to their level and remained --and the trees ceased to rock --and the water-lilies sighed no more --and the murmur was heard no longer from among them, nor any shadow of sound throughout the vast illimitable desert. And I looked upon the characters of the rock, and they were changed; --and the characters were SILENCE.

     (The main character is now almost assuredly the Roman on the rock in a way. The association with the man and the thought that this could be reality prevents the observer from idly watching the suffering of this man. The natural turning of the heart for the acts in the previous chapter ignited a burst of emotion in him, this transferred into being strong enough to affect mother nature, maybe she retreated out of suppressed fear at the outburst, at her own compassion being realized for one of the men or maybe because she feels the one observing the man on the rock has passed some test of compassion)

     "And mine eyes fell upon the countenance of the man, and his countenance was wan with terror. And, hurriedly, he raised his head from his hand, and stood forth upon the rock and listened. But there was no voice throughout the vast illimitable desert, and the characters upon the rock were SILENCE. And the man shuddered, and turned his face away, and fled afar off, in haste, so that I beheld him no more."

     (Very confusing, I again have nothing to say about this paragraph, it is intellectually invigorating) 

Now there are fine tales in the volumes of the Magi --in the iron-bound, melancholy volumes of the Magi. Therein, I say, are glorious histories of the Heaven, and of the Earth, and of the mighty sea --and of the Genii that over-ruled the sea, and the earth, and the lofty heaven. There was much lore too in the sayings which were said by the Sybils; and holy, holy things were heard of old by the dim leaves that trembled around Dodona --but, as Allah liveth, that fable which the Demon told me as he sat by my side in the shadow of the tomb, I hold to be the most wonderful of all! And as the Demon made an end of his story, he fell back within the cavity of the tomb and laughed. And I could not laugh with the Demon, and he cursed me because I could not laugh. And the lynx which dwelleth forever in the tomb, came out therefrom, and lay down at the feet of the Demon, and looked at him steadily in the face.

(The blending of so many cultures in this concluding paragraph shows the education that Poe had. He was familiar with French culture (Oval Portrait, Pit & Pendulum and Cask of Amontillado), English (He was an American in early 1800's in New England and Virginia), German (He wrote a couple stories with German names), Muslim culture (Al Aaraf was his longest poem, based on parts of the Koran) and he knew something of African cultures using symbolism of a demon (from Europe), Sphinx (From Egypt) Genii (Arabian & Persian) and the tomb, being from many different cultures, but maybe coinciding with the Egyptian sphinx in a way)

(The reason for all of this is also reveled in this last paragraph, the demon was doing this, he was in control the whole time. He did this for the sick pleasure of being a demon. The roughness and evil in the demon is more easily seen with the naive and compassionate man. The Demon cannot see the point of view of the man who is compassionate  I think he simply stopped because it was no longer entertaining. It is similar to a person now saying "Look man is it not cool that I can kill people, watch me"! Then he proceeds to do so and does not find the connection he was hoping for. The power and lack of care by the demon is a scary thought)

THE END

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Conclusion

     Overall this story makes me feel like man is the weakest inhabitant of earth, we are always checked by nature and her controllers, no matter who they be, goof or evil. 

     As far as its place in literature, I think it is Poe's attempt at scenery and writing of nature in a respectful form. I think this is one of Poe's best works, but I am heavily biased to the writing of scenery and wildness like this.