Melissa Hodgkins
10
May 2015
Poe’s
Visions of Womanhood in “Ligeia” and “Usher”: Femme-Fatales, Sirens, and
Vampires
Critics have long had conflicting views of Edgar Allan Poe’s short works
of fiction. For some, he is a talentless hack whose visions of Romanticism are
best-aligned with French and German Romantic fiction, essentially a traitor to
American Transcendental thought; for others he is quintessentially American with
a deeply layered, psychologically complex vision of Romanticism and its
aesthetic principles. Both schools agree that Poe’s works are concentrated on
themes of desire and loss centered around the possession or desire to possess
beautiful women. According to Jenny Webb in her article entitled “Fantastic
Desire: Poe, Calvino, and the Dying Woman” Poe’s “assessment in “The
Philosophy of Composition” that “the death . . . of a beautiful woman is,
unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world” (214-215) is the central
basis for his depiction and seeming obsession with women and the inevitable loss
that they represent. Truly, it is difficult to separate women from death in
Poe’s works. As we will see in our examination of both “Ligeia” and “The Fall of
the House of Usher” “Poe plays out, through repetition and subtle variation, the
story of a young woman, beloved by husband, fiancé, or brother, who suddenly and
without apparent physical cause is taken ill or otherwise changed. This
character also eventually dies, only to return in some form from the grave”
(215). These women become emblematic of life that not only defies death, but
transforms through death into haunting forms of fantastic sublimation. Poe’s women—for the sake of this analysis we will look specifically at Ligeia, Rowena, and Madeline Usher—have been examined and read by critics as both Romantic idealizations of patriarchal standards of femininity, as well as spectral sub-human “femme-fatales” (Belton 8), “Sirens” (Jones 34), “vampires” (Stephanou 45) and/or “succubi” (Jones 33). Inevitably, the female character is seen through the lens of a male narrator, distanced from the reader by the intense psychological disillusionment and/or struggles of the men that obsess over them. These women become something more than human and simultaneously less than human. As Jenny Webb sees it,
There
is something indicative of the way the narrative voice, eye, and memory reverses
beauty into horror. The narrators constantly misread their loved ones and in
doing so fail to understand them in any significant way. They are born in
libraries and they embed themselves in bibliographies that grapple with the
mystery of the Word made Flesh, and yet ironically it is their fleshy fixations
that re-inscribe the beloved in a textuality of false referentiality. Our
narrators, Poe insinuates, are not merely bad readers—they are, quite literally,
deadly (216).
These
women who are “misread” and are “re-inscribed… [with] false referentiality” are
studies in contradiction: they are simultaneously beautiful, ideal and
intelligent yet horrific, soul-sucking, and haunting. Poe’s depiction of women
as ethereal and other-worldly denies them a space within the discourse of human
existence; they are phantoms of humanity that are best depicted through the lens
of memory and are invariably neglected and mistreated in life. As Joan Dayan
sees it “In Poe's mechanics of love, heartfelt men become vague and impotent,
while beloved women become shadowy or reduced to
pieces of prized and sexualized symbolic matter” (249).
The critical perception of women as vampires is explored within the works
of several critics I will mention in this paper, specifically by Aspasia
Stephanou and Daryl E. Jones. In her article entitled “Lovely Apparitions and
Spiritualized Corpses: Consumption, Medical Discourse, and Edgar Allan Poe’s
Female Vampire” Aspasia Stephanou writes: “Madeline Usher… and Ligeia represent
the dark ladies of Romantic passion, with black hair and dark eyes, whose
mysterious deaths are bloodless and their bodies emptied of the blood that
constitutes their identity. Poe’s consuming women are especially unique in the
way they all die by unknown consuming diseases” (38). Stephanou defends this
assertion that Ligeia and Madeline can be read as vampires by expounding upon
the nineteenth century perception of consumption as related to the belief in
vampirism. She asserts “… New England’s Gothic Literature shows that between
1790 and 1890 the disease of consumption in New England was related to the
belief in vampirism. The New England vampires were often imagined as young
sexual female “victims turned victimizers,” “draining the vitality” of the
community or “fading away and dying” (37). She insists that
Unlike European traditions of blood-sucking revenants, vampirism in New England
is bloodless and, like consumption, imagined by some as “a spiritual disease,
obsession, or visitation.” The
proliferation of vampire superstitions in the area coincides with New England’s
degeneration and rural decay. Vampirism then became a fitting metaphor for the
disintegration of the tubercular female body and of the body of New England
(37).
The
insinuation is that the female body is representative of the diseased feminine
will: the excess of desire that refuses to die alongside the body. By making
this argument, it becomes plain to see that all consideration of the obsessive,
misreading, and impotent masculine mind plays second fiddle to the misogynistic
portrayal of women as monsters. Daryl E. Jones writes “Whether Ligeia is in fact
real or instead merely a “demonic and delusive construct” in the mind of the
narrator, she is in any event “his vampire, his succubus” (33). Thus, “The
wasting and diseased body of the female becomes analogous to evil and sin and
embodies a perversion of the natural order. Ligeia is a woman of evil who is
driven by her fierce spirit and wild desire for life beyond the grave. This
horrifying and passionate will for life is so irrational and persistent that it
materializes into a vampire and a diabolical distortion of life” (Stephanou 38).
The result is that the female body defies death in order to haunt and hunt the
men that failed to protect them. What Poe calls Ligeia’s “gigantic volition” is
“her own perverted spirit that seeks to dominate and exploit matter in order to
accede to a semblance of life: an uncanny doubling of life itself” (38).
The physical manifestations of consumptive disease mark the physical
descriptions of both Ligeia and Madeline. As John H. Timmerman writes in his
article “House of Mirrors: Edgar Allan Poe's “The Fall of the House of Usher”
“Madeline… becomes abstracted to little more than a mental evanescence… out of
touch with reality. When the narrator first sees her passing in the distance, he
is filled with unaccountable dread, so otherworldly she appears. She is,
Roderick discloses, simply wasting away of some illness with no known etiology”
(242). Ligeia and Madeline are both pale with rosy cheeks, dark-haired, and
dark-eyed. In truth, these ideals offered a certain contrast between light and
dark, but they were also symbolic of the strange consumptive disorders that
ravaged the bodies of these women. “Medical treatises of the nineteenth century
speculate on the appearance of female consumptive bodies with diaphanous pale
skin and rosy cheeks. Medical knowledge and literature created a metaphorical
feminine body, a cultural construct controlled by the authority and gaze of the
medical practitioner and writer” (Stephanou 40). Therefore, the medical
professionals and the writers of the age helped perpetuate this perception that
women were carriers of consumptive disease; these assumptions coupled with the
feminine associations with vampirism effectively remove Ligeia and Madeline from
the land of “real” women and mark them as the unexplainable and wicked “Other”.
But the true terror of Poe’s female vampire is her revivification. “Ligeia”
unveils the horror of the reanimating corpse. The narrative presents consumption
as the disease of Ligeia’s diabolical spirit that leads to the inversion and
distortion of the natural order. Death does not announce the end of Ligeia’s
life but her revivification in an undead horrifying state” (43-44).
Unlike Ligeia whose strong-will and feminine wiles create a lasting and
impenetrable hold upon the narrator, Rowena is the weak, passive woman who
should, given the expectations of patriarchal idealization in regard to the
desirability of the passive woman, be the “perfect” match for the narrator, but
is instead loathed by him. As Leonard W. Engel writes in his article entitled
“Obsession, Madness, and Enclosure in Poe's "Ligeia" and "Morella"” “… in
“Ligeia” the narrator exhibits love for one woman and hate for the other: Lady
Ligeia serves as the object of his love, becoming the focus of his obsession,
while Lady Rowena is hated and rejected, and finally dies like a plant withering
from lack of nourishment” (140). Engel is not the only writer who has noticed
this despairing view of Rowena. In his article entitled “Poe's "Ligeia": Dream
and Destruction” James W. Gargano notes “There is not even a hint that he [the
narrator] entertains a single gentle or chivalric feeling for his new wife. He
loathes the reality she represents, and while he delights in the pain he
inflicts upon her he “reveled in recollections of [Ligeia's] purity, of her
wisdom, of her lofty, her ethereal nature, of her passionate, her idolatrous
love (Poe)” (340). It is this weakness and lack that seems to uphold and
criticize conventional womanhood that marks Rowena as a potential conduit for
Ligeia to re-emerge, asserting her position not only as victim but now as
victimizer. As Stephanou sees it: “Rowena’s… body becomes the medium through
which the fanatical spirit of Ligeia will materialize. Her spirit and living
force enter Rowena’s bodily form through the materiality of blood: “three or
four large drops of a brilliant and ruby colored fluid” (Poe). Blood functions
as the symbol of life, the fluid that animates the vampire but also the medium
of life itself and the carrier of one’s vitality and identity” (43-44). In this
way, Ligeia further perpetuates a type of feminine misogyny in which she
victimizes another woman in search of reanimation and spiritual dominance.
“Ligeia’s… “acquisition” of Rowena’s body [has] something to do with a
vampire-like quality; she feeds on other life to preserve her own” (Jones 33).
It is fitting then that “Poe’s response to the question of womanhood can be read
through… vampirism and disease [as] dramatized through the tension between mind
and body, masculine and feminine, life and death. There is an urge for
metaphysical union that is disrupted by the horror of woman’s evil spirit
(Stephanou 45).
Yet the monstrosity of these women and
the potential readings for their dark representations of femininity do not stop
with Stephanou’s vision of Ligeia and/or Madeline the vampire. Instead, we see
Ligeia the siren. In his article entitled “Poe's Siren: Character and Meaning in
"Ligeia"” Daryl E. Jones writes “Ligeia is a siren. She bears the name of a
siren, and she manifests traits traditionally identified with the sirens of
classical antiquity” (33). Jones makes his case based on Poe’s seemingly
deliberate choice in naming Ligeia as he did, as well as discussing the legends
that surrounded these vixens of the deep, arguing that Poe would have not only
known these classical myths, but that he purposely chose to make illusions to
them. Jones explains the legend of these mythical sirens:
According to Greek mythology, the Sirens resided on a small island… Accounts
differ, but generally they indicate that the Sirens were three in number:
Parthenope, Leucosia, and Ligeia. Singing in voices of ethereal beauty, and
accompanying themselves on such delicately soul-stirring musical instruments as
the lyre, Ligeia and her companions enchanted mariners and lured them to
shipwreck and death (34).
Yet
again, the source of inspiration and desire for women is a source of death. This
equation is inescapable in Poe’s fiction. What is immensely interesting is how
reading Ligeia as siren and as vampire can be achieved simultaneously, as the
critics that support each reading focus on the character’s ability to achieve
revivification. “The sirens were capable of revivification… they also reappeared
centuries later [after the initial birth and dissipation of their myth] along
the banks of the Rhine… Traditionally associated with seduction and death, the
sirens… were also considered agents of spiritual destruction” (34). This makes
for a startling contrast to Poe’s narrator’s elusive memories of where he met
his beloved— “first and most frequently in some large, old, decaying city near
the Rhine” (Poe). Indeed, the narrator’s fuzzy memory serves a dual purpose
according to Jones— it not only provides a vision of the unreliability of the
narrator, but it also serves as an indication that his scant facts depicting an
unknown and unknowable force of destruction that was Ligeia the Siren fail to
account for his deep and abiding affection. He claims further that the
narrator’s recollection that “her family is of a remotely ancient date” (35) is
an indication of the antiquation of her origin and that “Ligeia’s facial
features, which partake of “the softness and the majesty, the fullness, and the
spirituality, of the Greek” (35) serves as equal endorsement to his reading.
And yet, what of Ligeia’s characterization would align her with the myth
of the siren? According to Jones it is the repeated recollection of Ligeia’s
beautiful, ethereal voice that captures the imagination and desire of the
narrator and aligns her with the mythology of old. He references “the thrilling
and enthralling eloquence of her low musical language,” “the dear sweet music of
her low sweet voice,” and “the almost magical melody, modulation, distinctness,
and placidity of her very low voice” which contrasts markedly with “the wild
words which she habitually uttered” all of which “made their way into my heart
by paces so steadily and so stealthily progressive that they have been unnoticed
and unknown” (35).
The chief objective of the siren is enchantment. It is clear from
previous discussion that the concentration on the beauty of the female form
(both in the bloom of memory and in the decay of disease) that Ligeia’s person
was physically enchanting to her husband. Poe describes Ligeia’s beauty through
the eyes of the narrator:
Yet
her features were not of that regular mould… I perceived that her loveliness was
indeed "exquisite,"... I examined the contour of the lofty and pale forehead—it
was faultless—how cold indeed that word when applied to a majesty so divine!—the
skin rivalling the purest ivory, the commanding extent and repose, the gentle
prominence of the regions above the temples; and then the raven-black, the
glossy, the luxuriant and naturally-curling tresses… I looked at the delicate
outlines of the nose… There were the same luxurious smoothness of surface, the
same scarcely perceptible tendency to the aquiline, the same harmoniously curved
nostrils speaking the free spirit. I regarded the sweet mouth. Here was indeed
the triumph of all things heavenly—the magnificent turn of the short upper
lip—the soft, voluptuous slumber of the under—the dimples which sported, and the
color which spoke—the teeth glancing back, with a brilliancy almost startling,
every ray of the holy light which fell upon them in her serene and placid, yet
most exultingly radiant of all smiles…
Yet,
“He is also enchanted by her “rare” and “immense” learning “in the classical
tongues… she [was] deeply proficient” and she was well abreast of “all the wide
areas of moral, physical and mathematical science” (Jones 35). These references
to Ligeia’s immense knowledge seem to indicate an appreciation for vast amounts
of female knowledge, but I would assert that this information not only helps to
identify Ligeia as a woman outside of humanity and the patriarchal ideal of
woman, but it identifies her as a threat to the masculine identity that the
narrator wishes to exert and yet seemingly abandons in his melancholic and
obsessive yearning for Ligeia. But this yearning has less to do with the
feelings of the narrator and the sincerity of his love, but rather with the
enchanting prowess that Ligeia the Siren possesses. Even from beyond the depths
of death, she calls and he must answer. Jones claims that “the narrator resigned
himself “with child-like confidence, to her guidance through the chaotic world
of meta-physical investigation” (35).
How does this representation of Ligeia as siren work, even after the
illusions to her status as siren as have been decoded and understood? After all,
she is the figure that could not escape death… or is she? According to Jones’
interpretation this is where the siren’s revivification renders the reading of
Ligeia as siren whole. He writes “If Ligeia’s earthly existence is contingent
upon her service as an agent of divine destruction, we may speculate that her
return to life must represent a second chance to seduce and destroy the
narrator. And if the strength of will she exhibits in possessing Rowena’s body
is any indication, this time Ligeia will not fail in her mission” (36).
Both images of the dark women we have seen, the vampire and the siren,
are types of the “femme-fatale”, women that destroy and feed off of the men that
they enchant. According to Robert J. Belton in his article entitled “Edgar Allan
Poe and the Surrealists' Image of Women” many painters of the surrealist
movement looked to the works of nineteenth century artists and writers,
including Poe and his collection of short fiction, and formed a kinship in their
presentation of women as predators feasting on men. He writes: “Despite their
rejection of 20th century bourgeois norms, the Surrealists' attitude
toward women was rooted in the 19th century age of the femme
fatale—the voracious devouring woman who caused man's fall from grace” (8). He
goes on to claim “They were aided in their interpretations by fashionable
analogies between human and insect behavior, and the female praying mantis,
renowned for devouring her mate after the sex act” (8). Indeed, it takes little
imagination to connect Ligeia the vampire, Madeline the vampire, and/or Ligeia
the siren as figures emblematic of a human praying mantis, the deadly femme
fatale of fiction.
Poe’s treatment of women is psychologically and allegorically complex.
The truth remains that although they are idealized in many ways, they are
inescapably linked to male impotence and death. They are women who are “misread”
and are “re-inscribed… [with] false referentiality” and they are studies in
perpetual contradiction: they are simultaneously the most beautiful, most ideal
and most intelligent yet horribly horrific, scarily soul-sucking, and
horrifically haunting. Poe’s repeated usage of superlative language when
describing his narrators’ madness and the nature and person of his female
characters further illustrates my point that the feminine in her ethereal light
is both dark and markedly “Other”. Therefore,
Poe’s depiction of women as ethereal and other-worldly denies them a space
within the discourse of human existence; they are phantoms of humanity that are
best depicted through the lens of memory and are invariably neglected and
mistreated in life as seen by the death of Ligeia, the hatred towards Rowena,
and the neglect of Madeline. Poe’s women are more like shadows than people.
Works
Cited
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Art Journal 8.1 (1987): 8-12. JSTOR. Web. 2 May 2015.
Dayan, Joan. "Amorous Bondage: Poe, Ladies, and Slaves." American Literature 66.2
(1994): 239-73. JSTOR. Web. 1 May 2015.
Engel, Leonard W. "Obsession, Madness, and Enclosure in Poe's "Ligeia" and
"Morella"." College Literature 9.2 (1982): 140-46. JSTOR. Web. 4
May 2015.
Gargano, James W. "Poe's "Ligeia": Dream and Destruction." College English 23.5
(1962): 337-42. JSTOR. Web. 4 May 2015.
Jones, Daryl E. "Poe's Siren: Character and Meaning in "Ligeia"." Studies in
Short Fiction 20.1 (1983): 33-37. Ebsco. Web. 2 May 2015.
Poe,
Edgar Allan. “Ligeia” and “The Fall of the House of Usher”. N.p. Web.
Stephanou, Aspasia. "Lovely Apparitions and Spiritualized Corpses: Consumption,
Medical Discourse, and Edgar Allan Poe’s Female Vampire." The Edgar Allan Poe
Review 14.1 (2013): 36-54. JSTOR. Web. 4 May 2015.
Timmerman, John H. "House of Mirrors: Edgar Allan Poe's "The Fall of the House
of Usher." Papers on Language & Literature 39.3 (2003): 227-244.
Academic Search Complete. Web. 1 May 2015.
Webb,
Jenny. "Fantastic Desire: Poe, Calvino, and the Dying Woman." The Comparatist 35
(2011): 211-20. JSTOR. Web. 4 May 2015.
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