LITR 4328 American Renaissance / Model Assignments

Sample Student Research Project 2018: Essay

Cynthia Cleveland

The Psychological Romance of “Ligeia”: Trauma and Aesthetics of the Supernatural

Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ligeia” is a tale that is difficult to interpret, as the reading finds themselves questioning, what, exactly is the reality of the narrator. The unnamed narrator loses the love of his life—the ethereal and mysterious Ligeia—and embarks upon an obsessive romantic quest to restore her to the earthly realm of existence by means of the supernatural. However, this quest is obscured by ambiguity as the reader is prompted to question whether the events within the narrative are indeed supernatural in nature or simply the result of trauma and a wild addiction to opium. Examination of the reliability of the narrator, the supernatural versus the natural space, aesthetics and trauma will show that the narrator is not to be trusted and the events he experiences are the result of an obsessed and afflicted mind bolstered by his opium addiction, the occult decorum of the abbey and the trauma of lost love.

Poe’s story presents the reader with immense amounts of confusion surrounding the interpretation of the story. The further the reader progresses through the narrative, the question regarding the existential nature of these supernatural events within the story becomes a matter of important consideration. Of course, before embarking on any literary journey, the reader is entered into a certain contract with the author—that is, the suspension of disbelief, which generally leaves this question of reality far behind; however, Poe relishes in the bending of this particular idea through his clever ability to confound the reader via his narrators’ inconsistencies and self-doubts. Whenever a reader opens a book, there is the promise of entertainment and consistent, resolved story lines—a certain amount of clarity is expected. Poe is unique in this particular aspect, as the focus is not primarily to engage the reader via plot and dialect—as many traditional stories do—but rather to build atmosphere. Poe’s essay “The Philosophy of Composition”, from Robert Hough’s collection Literary Criticism of Edgar Allan Poe, distinctly dismisses the “radical error” of formulating a story with first ideas of plot, which the author should then build their narrative around—adding various details that breathe life into the story such as: “description, dialogue, or authorial comment”, but rather that the story should attempt to capture an “effect” above all else (Hough, 20-21). Taking this route then, Poe is able to produce the incredible effect of ambiguity that causes a certain crisis within the reader—that is the pronounced difficultly of the reader to come to a solid conclusion concerning the narrator’s fancies. It has the effect of causing the reader to question the state of their own reality in conjunction with that of the narrator.

With this particular difficultly in mind, it is then pertinent that the reliability of the narrator is investigated. The most pressing questions that may be asked regarding the resolution of this dilemma is whether the unnamed narrator was in full possession of his mental faculties, as he would have the reader believe, or were his senses distorted by his self-pronounced opium habit? The narrator is most certainly unreliable, but it is important to consider to what extent he is unreliable—that is, intentionally or unintentionally. Theresa Heyd’s essay “Understanding and Handling Unreliable Narratives: A Pragmatic Model and Method” aptly clarifies the issue concerning unreliable narrators, addressing the distinct differences between the different types of unreliable narrators that a reader is likely to encounter: quiet deception—which produces the effect that the narrator is intentionally and consciously leading the reader to draw false conclusions by withholding information; self-deception—in which the narrator engages in “semi-conscious unreliability—euphemisms, half-truths, and memory gaps”; and finally, unintentional unreliability—in which the mental faculties of the narrator are called into question (non compos mentis) (Heyd, 226-233).

The narrator of Ligeia falls into the category of the unintentionally unreliable narrator, according to Heyd’s model for unreliable narrators. It is possible that the narrator may be said to engage in self-deception due to his gaps in memory that appear throughout the story; however, this particular definition implies that the narrator should be “semi-conscious” in his deception, or to put it simply, passively deceptive as opposed to being actively deceptive (Heyd, 228-229). This is an important distinction, since it is understood that there is nothing for the narrator to gain by being thus deceptive; as Heyd puts it, there is no “face-saving” value to be gained from deceiving the reader, especially since he is aware of and often doubts his own senses (Heyd, 230). Thus, this category of unreliable narrator may be eschewed in favor of stronger evidence pointing to his unintentionally unreliable narration. In the very beginning of “Ligeia” the narrator begins by explaining that “[he] cannot, for [his] soul, remember how, when or even precisely where [he] first became acquainted with the lady Ligeia.” (“Ligeia”). This is a profoundly odd statement, as the reader will notice throughout the progression of the story. The narrator is unquestionably infatuated with his deceased bride and greatly mourns this loss. Further, the narrator notes that he “has never known the paternal name of her” (“Ligeia”). Both of these particular examples stand out most due to their unusual nature; as the reader comes to understand the level of infatuation the narrator expresses for Ligeia, it becomes evident that he is, to some degree, of a deteriorated mental state. This question of his mental state is only bolstered by his admission of this fact in which he discloses that “[his] memory is feeble through much suffering.”; coupled with his admission that he “had become a bounden slave in the trammels of opium” it is easy to deduce that the narrator is unintentionally unreliable (“Ligeia”).

This understanding of the narrator as unintentionally unreliable creates difficulty in determining to what degree this story operates within the realm of the natural or the supernatural. As previously mentioned, the effect to which Poe constructs his tales are created with an air of intentional ambiguity. Certainly, this story exists within the realm of the fantastic, as so often Poe’s tales are; however, the question is simply how far the fantastic extends in this case. Wanlin Lin’s essay “Ambiguity as Aesthetic Strategy: Edgar Allan Poe's Ambitions for the American Short Story” discusses these two possible worlds of “Ligeia”—though they are not mutually exclusive—that consist of the “natural” and the “supernatural” (169-170). The narrator, according to Lin, inhabits the space of the natural and the lady Ligeia inhabits the space of the supernatural; how these two worlds intersect is dependent upon the interpretation that the reader chooses (169).

Through a psychological reading of this particular story, the narrator would inhabit the space of the natural, while Ligeia occupies a smaller supernatural space within the narrator’s world (Lin, 169). This is to suppose that Ligeia is simply a figment of his imagination, which there is certainly evidence to support: as Lin notes, Ligeia has an unusually “obscure background, irregular features, immense knowledge and [her] final revivification.” (169). Of these claims, the most promising is her impossible resurrection and the lack of background knowledge that the reader is presented with concerning Ligeia herself; as previously noted, the narrator does not remember how, when or where they met, nor does he remember her family name, which is most suspect. The narrator has been identified as being unreliable due to his questionable state of mind and his “opium dreams”, it would be entirely possible that Ligeia is simply a hallucination (“Ligeia”).  

In contrast to this particular reading, there is the possibility that the natural and the supernatural occupy equal spaces that simply overlap (Lin, 170). This reading supposes that these two worlds have in some way overlapped but are independent of one another—unlike the madness or drug induced world within the narrator’s psyche. There is also evidence to support this particular reading of the story, as the narrator identifies Rowena as a witness to some of these unsettling events. After Rowena falls ill, she spends her time recovering in the very same room in which Ligeia perished; during this repose she tells her husband “of the slight sounds—and of the unusual motions among the tapestries” (“Ligeia”). The narrator presents the reader with a witness to these events that surround the mysterious resurrection of Ligeia. This reading would also explain the unusual appearance and intellect of Ligeia, who possessed those mysterious and unfathomable eyes, which were “far larger than the ordinary eyes of our own race.” (“Ligeia”). The description of Ligeia certainly gives the impression that she is otherworldly, as she possessed an “incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall” and the “learning of Ligeia: it was immense—such as [the narrator] [had] never known in woman.” (“Ligeia”). All of these characteristics suggest that Ligeia was undoubtedly otherworldly; however, it still retains ambiguity as to whether this is supernatural or hallucination. One must look to the aesthetic of the work to find more answers.

The aesthetic of Ligeia suggests that this world occupies the supernatural space in favor of the natural. The aesthetic is Gothic, to be sure. The castellated abbey is located in a “remote and unsocial region of the country”, producing the effect of isolation so often found in Gothic literature (“Ligeia”). The style adds to the sense of foreboding in its descriptive details—the reader gets the sense that there exists a supernatural element due to the “gloomy and dreary grandeur of the building” (“Ligeia”). It would be inadequate to suggest the Gothic style is confirmation of any type of supernatural presence—it merely suggests the possibility. What makes this association of the Gothic style and the supernatural so potent in this particular story is the arabesque and occult decorum of the chamber in which the majority of the story takes place. The chamber is noted as being “pentagonal in shape”, which gives the chamber a specifically occult relation (“Ligeia”). As this story deals in the realm of resurrection, it is difficult to ignore the significance of the unusually shaped room. Five points could be indicative of the pentagram, which is often associated with the occult and Gothic genre. What makes this connection particularly vivid is the inclusion of “semi-Gothic, semi-Druidical devices” that hang from the ceiling, and the sarcophagi “of black granite” which are placed in “each of the angles of the chamber” (“Ligeia”). The “semi-Druidical” devices are particularly intriguing as the Druids were known in folklore to supposedly have the ability to practice magic, thereby linking them to occult or pagan practices. Further, the inclusion of the sarcophagi of “black granite” placed in each of the five corners of the room holds significance—firstly, they are black, a color which is often related to the supernatural—even evil, in some cases—either way, it points to the unnatural. Sarcophagi are traditionally Egyptian burial containers—for royalty or those of great importance—which holds a great amount of significance, since it is believed by them that there was an afterlife to which they would transcend. This then, suggests that the room was constructed with the specific purpose of achieving some sort of connection with the supernatural realm and the possibility of soul transcendence.

This connection to the supernatural realm is directly connected to the psychological sufferings of the narrator and his deepest desire to have Ligeia back in his life. The epigraph of “Ligeia” is a passage from Joseph Glanvill concerning the power of will and death (“Ligeia”). This particular passage—outside of the epigraph—is repeated three times throughout the narrative, particularly this portion of the passage: “Man doth not yield him to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will.” (“Ligeia”). The first iteration of this passage is from the beginning of the story, in which the narrator equates this passage to an understanding of “a portion of the character of Ligeia.”—that is to say, that she possesses an extraordinary power of will—as can be traced up to her impending doom, in which the narrator notes upon her deathbed that she possessed “so wildly earnest a desire for the life which was now fleeing so rapidly away.” (“Ligeia”).

The second mention of this epigraph is iterated by Ligeia upon her death, in which she laments to God, “shall these things be undeviatingly so?—shall this Conqueror be not once conquered?”; death is the conqueror to which she refers and her utterance of this epigraph serves to reinforce the suggestion that death may be conquered through the sheer power of resolved will (“Ligeia”). Before Ligeia perishes, the narrator stoops low to hear her whisper this epigraph once again. This final iteration seems to have been the primary motivating factor in the narrator’s decision to construct the supernatural—or perhaps, more aptly the ‘ritual’—chamber in which he hosts his new bride, Rowena of which he recalls “there was no system, no keeping, in the fantastic display, to take hold upon the memory.” (“Ligeia”). What is most fascinating about these iterations is the number of them—notwithstanding the epigraph—there are three. Three is known to be a significant number in the theory of numerology, particularly in Christian traditions. This suggests that, in direct opposition to the laws of death—and by default, the design of God—that death is indeed conquerable. Thus, it prompts the narrator to construct this ritual chamber—imbued with the notion of Ligeia’s suggestion that death may be conquered by sheer will—with the purpose of resurrecting his lost love. Although, it would be a fallacy to suggest that this idea of resurrection was altogether unconscious on the narrator’s part, as he laments quite frequently that surely death cannot be permanent: “as if, through the wild eagerness, the solemn passion, the consuming ardor of my longing for the departed, I could restore her to the pathway she had abandoned—ah, could it be forever?—upon the earth.” (“Ligeia”). It is never explicitly stated that he had intentions towards this particular end; however, Ligeia’s final words suggesting that will could overcome death and this lament expressing the possibility that his force of will could restore her certainly point towards a specific intention.

The story then becomes a romantic narrative in which the trauma of loss leads the narrator to a desperate—and semi-conscious—effort to resurrect the lady Ligeia through the means of supernatural interference. After the loss of his love, which proves to be a traumatic event in the life of the narrator, he—through the power of Ligeia’s suggestion concerning the will to overcome death—constructs a ritual chamber for this purpose and marries the lady Rowena. It is not lost on the reader the loathing that the narrator possesses for Rowena, as he constantly harbors a resentment towards her for no explicable reason other than she is not Ligeia and admits to possessing “a hatred belonging more to demon than to man.” towards Rowena (“Ligeia”). During these periods he describes with Rowena, the narrator constantly finds his “memory flew back (oh, with what intensity of regret!) to Ligeia” (“Ligeia”). Marita Nadal’s research “Trauma and the Uncanny in Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ligeia” and “The Fall of the House of Usher” addresses this issue within “Ligeia” concerning psychological trauma and the effects that it produces; here, the narrator displays traits Nadal describes concerning emotional trauma, he is haunted by “obsessive memories, while he strives to incorporate his beloved within his own self, since the process of mourning has failed.” (182). This refers to the construction of the elaborately furnished ritual chamber, in which the narrator possesses the unconscious, but wild hope of helping Ligeia in escaping “death utterly” (“Ligeia”). According to Nadal this aligns with “Freud’s notion of repetition compulsion and melancholia,” which is evident in the narrator (182).

Thus, the reader can see that the trauma of his lost love drives him embark on his romantic quest and in order to achieve this resurrection, there must be an exchange, which is where Rowena serves her purpose. Rowena is described as the exact opposite of Ligeia—Rowena is fair-haired and blue-eyed, whereas Ligeia’s hair was “raven-black” and “The hue of the orbs was the most brilliant of black”—this type of correspondence is fitting, as it further implicates the idea of the supernatural (“Ligeia”). The fair lady, Rowena—that which represents the natural—is to be exchanged for the dark lady, Ligeia—which represents the unnatural. This correspondence is important to the task at hand, that of Ligeia’s resurrection; if there is to be any exchange through the use of supernatural means, it would align with the trope that that which is to be sacrificed must be pure—thus Rowena’s fair features. This type of correspondence proves to be of great import, as the construction and the decorum of the chamber point towards intense purpose of symbolism, as previously discussed.

However, this still leaves the unresolved issue of whether these events were truly of a supernatural nature or merely a hallucination. To answer this question, it is important to return to previously discussed unreliability of the narrator and the psychological trauma that the narrator has experienced. It is important to return to these subjects as they bear a great deal of significance in determining the true nature of the tale.

First, it must be revisited that the narrator is above all an unintentionally unreliable narrator—even though the reader is provided with Rowena as a witness to the supernatural events of the story, this is being recounted by our unreliable narrator from a temporal distance, and therefore puts her supposed corroboration under severe scrutiny. In the final sequence of events the narrator experiences auditory and visual stimuli that suggest a preternatural presence; however, the narrator also admits that at this time he “was wild with the excitement of an immoderate dose of opium”, which leads the reader to question whether these were simply hallucinations (“Ligeia”). Furthermore, the narrator “saw, or may have dreamed that [he] saw, fall within the goblet…three or four large drops of a brilliant and ruby colored fluid.” from which Rowena drank and subsequently perished a few days later (“Ligeia”). This type of speculation by the narrator that Rowena had been poisoned by the phantasm of Ligeia is entirely unreliable as he was intoxicated; coupled with the knowledge that Rowena was already suffering a fatal malady does nothing to heighten the supposition that it may have been Ligeia’s shade. Instead, the speculation of this fact on narrator’s part is highly influenced by the opium and the decorum of the space.

The decorum of the space combined with his intoxication and waning memory only heightens the narrator’s fancies towards that of the supernatural. As discussed, the chamber is bedecked in symbols of the occult. The room itself is of a “pentagonal shape”—as a pentagram—, hung with “semi-druidical devices” and each corner possesses a “black granite” sarcophagus (“Ligeia”). What is more likely, in this scenario, is that the external space in which the narrator inhabits, bedecked with occult imagery, produces the effect of the supernatural, which is wholly different from the actualization of the supernatural. As previously discussed, Poe’s intentions when writing were primarily to induce an overall effect within and all other elements were secondary. The effect is purely aesthetic and psychological, it is meant to throw the reader into the very same chaos and confusion that the narrator experiences.

As such, the decorum is a reflection of the emotional trauma that the narrator has suffered and disproves the notion of an independent supernatural space—as evidenced by his lack of mental stability and the effect that trauma inflicts upon such an unstable mind. The loss of his love produces in the narrator an obsessive romantic quest fueled by melancholic behavior, as he laments quite frequently that surely death cannot be permanent.  The narrator internalizes this notion of Ligeia’s suggestion that death may be overcome and as a result the decorum reflects this obsession. The overall effect of these elements—the unreliability of the narrator and the decorum of the space—leads the reader to the certainty that the apparition that appears in the end is simply a hallucination fueled by trauma and excessive amounts of opium.

Works Cited

Heyd, Theresa. “Understanding and Handling Unreliable Narratives: A Pragmatic Model and Method.” Semiotica, vol. 162, no. 1-4, 2006, pp. 217-243.

Hough, Robert. “The Philosophy of Composition. Literary Critcism of Edgar Allan Poe, edited by Paul A. Olson, 1965, pp 20-32.

Li, Wanlin. "Ambiguity as Aesthetic Strategy: Edgar Allan Poe's Ambitions for the American Short Story." Journal of Narrative Theory, vol. 48, no. 2, 2018, pp. 164-193.

Nadal, Marita. "Trauma and the Uncanny in Edgar Allan Poe's “Ligeia” and “The Fall of the House of Usher”." The Edgar Allan Poe Review, vol. 17, no. 2, 2016, pp. 178-192.

Poe, Edgar A. “Ligeia.”

http://coursesite.uhcl.edu/HSH/Whitec/texts/AmClassics/RomFiction/Poe/PoeLigeia.htm

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