The Illustrations to Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allen Poe, by Harry Clarke, 1919. Click for full size.
It was the Marchesa Aphrodite – the adoration of all Venice.
“I had myself no power to move from the upright position I had assumed.”
Pardon the title, this was to avoid ‘Cock’. Most below the fold, because this does go on. And on.
Koninklijke Bibliotheek, KB, KA 16, Folio 88v.
Text Translation:
Of the cock The cock, gallus, gets its name from the act of castration. For alone among other birds its testicles are removed, and the ancients called castrated men galli. As from the lion the lioness gets her name leena, and the she-dragon dracena from the dragon draco, so the hen gets her name gallina from the cock. People say that the cock’s limbs, if mixed with liquid gold, are consumed by it. The crowing of the cock at night is a pleasant sound, and not only pleasant but useful; like a good partner, the cock wakes you when are asleep, encourages you if you are worried, comforts you if you are on the road, marking with its melodious call the progress of the night. With the crowing of the cock, the robber calls off his ambush; the morning star itself is awakened, rises and lights up the sky; the anxious sailor sets aside his cares, and very often each tempest and storm whipped up by evening winds moderates.
The Illustrations to Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allen Poe, by Harry Clarke, 1919. Click for full size.
“Has no copy been taken?” he demanded, surveying it through a microscope.
Portrait of a black raven.
Text Translation:
Of the raven The raven gets its name, corvus or corax, from the sound it makes in its throat, because it utters a croak. It is said that when its young have been hatched, this bird does not feed them fully until it sees that they have black feathers similar to its own. But after it has seen that they are of dark plumage, and has recognised them as of its own species, it feeds them more generously. When this bird feeds off corpses, it goes for the eyes first. In the Scriptures, the raven is perceived in a variety of ways; it is sometimes taken to mean a preacher, sometimes a sinner, sometimes the Devil.
In his book of Etymologies, Isidore says that the raven picks out the eyes in corpses first, as the Devil destroys the capacity for judgement in carnal men, and proceeds to extract the brain through the eye. The raven extracts the brain through the eye, as the Devil, when it has destroyed our capacity for judgement, destroys our mental faculties.
The Illustrations to Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allen Poe, by Harry Clarke, 1919. Click for full size.
“The earth grew dark, and its figures passed by me, like flitting shadows, and among them all I beheld only -Morella.”
Four young hoopoe, rhythmically placed in a roundel, clean the eyes and pluck the feathers of their ageing parent.
The Illustrations to Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allen Poe, by Harry Clarke, 1919. Click for full size.
“It was a fearful page in the record of my existence.”
The bird is illustrated by its portrait in a roundel.
Morgan Library, MS M.81, Folio 62r, The kind of owl called nictocorax, the night-raven.
Text Translation:
Of the night-owl ‘I am like the night-owl in its dwelling-place’ (BSV, Psalmi, 101:7; NEB, Psalms, 102:6). The night-owl is a bird that loves the darkness of the night. It lives in decaying walls because it sets up house in the ruins of roofless dwellings. It shuns the light, flying at night in search of food. In a mystic sense, the night-owl signifies Christ. Christ loves the darkness of night because he does not want sinners – who are represented by darkness – to die but to be converted and live (see Ezekiel, 18:32). For God the father so loved the world that he gave his son to death for the redemption of the world (see John, 3:16-17). That sinners are called ‘darkness’, is borne out by the apostle, saying: ‘For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord’ (Ephesians, 5:8). The night-owl lives in the cracks in walls, as Christ wished to be born one of the Jewish people, saying: ‘I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel’ (Matthew, 15:24). But Christ is crushed in the cracks of the walls, because he is killed by the Jews. Christ shuns the light in the sense that he detests and hates vainglory. For when he cared for a leper, in order to give us a lesson in humility, he said to the leper: ‘See thou tell no man’ (Matthew, 8:4). Of this light it is said: ‘And from the wicked their light is witholden’ (Job, 38:15), that is, the glory of present life. He himself is the light inaccessible ‘which lighteth every man’ (John, 1:9). The light, therefore, shuns the light, that is, the truth shuns the vanity of worldly glory.
The night-owl flies at night in search of food, as Christ converts sinners into the body of the Church by preaching. In a moral sense, moreover, the night-owl signifies to us not just any righteous man, but rather one who lives among other men yet hides from their view as much as possible. He flees from the light, in the sense that he does not look for the glory of human praise. It is said of this light: ‘Will the light of the wicked not be put out, and the spark of his fire not shine?’ (see Job, 17:5). ‘Light’ here signifies the prosperity of present life. The light of the wicked is extinguished, in the sense that the prosperity of our fleeting life ends with life itself. Will the flame of his fire not shine? ‘Fire’ here is the passion of temporal desires. Its flame is the splendour or outward show of power which comes from its inner fire. But it will not shine because on the day of death all outward splendour and power will perish. The night-owl keeps watch in the night, as when the righteous man, alert to the darkness of sinners, avoids their errors. It lives in the cracks of walls, in the sense that he considers the weakness of the world and awaits its downfall. It seeks food by night, as when he reflects upon the life of sinners and uses their example to nourish the mind of the righteous.
The owl is not visited until Folio 50, which also sees the Hoopoe and Night Owl written about again.
Folio 35v – the pelican, continued. De nicticorace; the night owl.
The Illustrations to Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allen Poe, by Harry Clarke, 1919. It took quite a while to set these up. While I really appreciate people who take the time and trouble to scan images from these old books, I’d appreciate them more if they included what story they relate to also. So, I bought the e-book, and even with that, there were a few bumps along the way. The black and white illustration to The Colloquy of Monos and Una was not included in the scans, and it’s nowhere to be found on the ‘net either, except for two instances, with the image being very small indeed, so that one will not be the best. The scans also had two images for The Pit and the Pendulum, while my book only had one. Any errors belong to me.
Anyroad, we start with MS. Found In A Bottle: “Incomprehensible Men! Wrapped up in meditations of a kind which I cannot divine, they pass me by unnoticed.” Click for full size.
“Incomprehensible Men! Wrapped up in meditations of a kind which I cannot divine, they pass me by unnoticed.”
The narrative is divided into three scenes showing the babies attacking their parent, the parents killing the babies and the mother piercing her side to resurrect her offspring. Possibly the idea of mother pouring sustenance over her babies comes from the birds’ habit of regurgitation.
Text Translation:
Of the pelican ‘I am like pelican of the wilderness’ (Psalms, 102:6). The pelican is a bird of Egypt, living in the wilderness of the River Nile, from which it gets its name. For Egypt is known as Canopos. It is devoted to its young. When it gives birth and the young begin to grow, they strike their parents in the face. But their parents, striking back, kill them. On the third day, however, the mother-bird, with a blow to her flank, opens up her side and lies on her young and lets her blood pour over the bodies of the dead, and so raises them from the dead. In a mystic sense, the pelican signifies Christ; Egypt, the world.
The pelican lives in solitude, as Christ alone condescended to be born of a virgin without intercourse with a man. It is solitary, because it is free from sin, as also is the life of Christ. It kills its young with its beak as preaching the word of God converts the unbelievers. It weeps ceaselessly for its young, as Christ wept with pity when he raised Lazarus. Thus after three days, it revives its young with its blood, as Christ saves us, whom he has redeemed with his own blood. In a moral sense, we can understand by the pelican not the righteous man, but anyone who distances himself far from carnal desire. By Egypt is meant our life, shrouded in the darkness of ignorance. For Egiptus can be translated as ‘darkness’. In Egypt, therefore, we make a wilderness (see Joel, 3:19), when we are far from the preoccupations and desires of this world. Thus the righteous man creates solitude for himself in the city, when he keeps himself free from sin, as far as human frailty allows. The pelican kills its young with its beak because the righteous man considers and rejects his sinful thoughts and deeds out of his own mouth, saying: ‘I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin’ (Psalms, 32:5). It weeps for its young for three days: this teaches us that whatever we have done wrong by thought, word or deed, is expunged by tears. It revives its young by sprinkling them with its blood, as when we concern ourselves less with matters of flesh and blood and concentrate on spiritual acts, by conducting ourselves virtuously. It is also a characteristic of this bird, they say, that it always suffers from thinness, and that whatever it swallows, it digests immediately, because its stomach has no separate pocket in which to retain food. Food does not fatten its body, therefore, but only sustains it and gives it strength. Indeed, the life of a hermit is modelled on the pelican, in that he lives on bread but does not seek to fill his stomach; he does not live to eat but eats to live.
Folio 34v – cedars, continued. De pellicano; Of the pelican.
A woman holding a dove stands in a vesica with six doves in its border. She wears a red tunic, a blue mantel and has a brown hood. The whole scene is surrounded by an exquisite frame. There is extensive commentary on this image.
Text Translation:
Of the cedar and the sparrows that nest in its branches When the words ‘cedar’ and ‘Lebanon’ are placed together, it is in a good sense. As Solomon says in the Song of Songs: ‘his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars’ (5:15). Lebanon is a mountain of Phoenicia at the northern limit of Judaea. Its trees surpass the timber of other trees in height, appearance and strength. By Mount Lebanon we can doubtless understand excellence in virtues. It stands at the northern limit of Judaea, to prevent the Devil from entering by means of temptation the minds of those who are sincerely praising the Lord. Its trees surpass others in height, appearance and strength, as every faithful soul surpasses others in the exalted nature of its desire, the splendour of its chastity and the strength of its constancy. By the cedar we understand Christ. He is the tall cedar of Lebanon, similar in form to the hyssop which, although it grew tall, was made humble.
Sparrows are preachers. Their fledglings are those born of the word as it is preached. Their nest is a place where there is peace of mind. Build your nest in the cedar, therefore, if you are one of those who, by living at peace, have not given up hope of eternal bliss. There are those cedars of Lebanon which the Lord planted. They represent the rich of the world. Sparrows represent the heads of monasteries; fledglings are their disciples. The nest represents convent buildings. Sparrows nest in these cedars, because spiritual rulers place their convents on the estates of the rich. There the sparrows call ceaselessly, seeking food from God. Let all those who wish to be filled with the word of God as with food, seek their nourishment from him. Day and night the sparrows call out, like those who pray with all their heart to God on behalf of their benefactors. Their minds at peace in the midst of the world, they care for their wings, the wings of contemplation, on which they seek to fly to the cedar as swiftly as they can. They fly around the trees of Lebanon, because they wish to know of the life and behaviour of spiritually eminent men. From this timber of Lebanon we read that Solomon made himself a chariot (see Song of Songs, 3:9), as the Church was made from illustrious and untiring men. Again of the cedar There are those cedars which the Lord did not plant. He did not plant them of his own will, he did not extend their number out of desire. ‘Every plant which my heavenly Father hath not planted shall be rooted up’ (Matthew, 15:13)
These cedars of Lebanon are the rich and proud. Gyrfalcons and hawks nest in them that is, birds of prey. They make nests there as robbers build strongholds on the estates of the rich. Their fledglings are their accomplices or henchmen. These birds hide in the the cedars in order to catch their prey, as robbers are empowered to commit crimes by evil rulers. But ‘the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon’ (Psalms, 29:5), that is, he will destroy the rich of the world, some by repentance, some by vengeance. The Lord will break some by repentance as he will humble the calf of Lebanon. He will humble them like the calf of Lebanon (see BSV, Psalmi, 28:6; NEB, Psalms, 29:6), in imitation of the life of Christ, making of each rich man a calf fit for sacrifice, who will mortify his flesh and carry his cross with Christ. He will break others by vengeance because they will be kept for eternal fire. Many profit from the felling of the aforesaid cedar, as when Christ with his death redeemed the world. ‘Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit’ (John, 12:24). Therefore the felling of the cedar represents the death of Christ. Truly, many benefitted from the death of Christ; by descending into hell, rising from the dead and ascending into heaven, he gave to the dying the hope of resurrection. For what good is there in living afflicted by distress and in dying at the end, if hope of resurrection does not follow? And what good is resurrection unless it is agreed that immortal man lives on without endless punishment? Likewise, when the cedar which the Lord planted is felled, it is of great profit, because it is transferred to the dwelling-place of eternal bliss. But if the cedar which the Lord did not plant is felled, it, too, will be of no little use, because the tree which bore no fruit in Lebanon, that is, in this secular world, may, when it is felled, support the weight of the building in a temple of the spirit. What I have said applies only if you cut down the pride of the cedar with repentance. If, however, you cut it down with vengeance, you consign it to the fires of Gehenna to be reduced forever to ashes.
The illustrations to The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault, 1922, by Harry Clarke. Click for full size.
A pair of turtle doves on top of a symmetrical tree is placed beside the heading of dove and sparrow. The text on f.32r refers to the female turtle dove’s chaste devotion to her mate, even when widowed. So, the illustration refers to the birds’ faithful marriage.
A pair of facing turtle doves in a roundel.
This dominating image shows the usual bland white turtle dove in its roundel and square perched in the arms of a cross. The cross represents the tree which conceals the nest, according to the rubric. There is a long commentary on this image.
Text Translation:
The beginning of the account of the turtle dove and the sparrow. After the mournful note of the dove and the plaintive call of the hawk, lest I linger too long, I shall write more speedily of the lament of the turtle-dove and the cry of the sparrow – and not only write of them, but also portray them. My purpose is to show how the turtle-dove cherishes the solitude of the wilderness, and the sparrow cries ceaselessly, alone on the roof; so that, following the example of the turtle dove, you may cleave to the purity that comes of chastity, and following that of the sparrow, you may take pleasure in acting shrewdly and prudently; living chastely and going your way with caution. Of the turtle dove The turtle dove, so called from the sound it makes, turtur, is a shy bird, and stays all the time on mountain summits and in deserted, lonely places. It shuns the houses and society of men and keeps to the woods.
Even in the winter time, when it has lost its plumage, it is said to to live in the hollow trunks of trees. The turtle dove also overlays its nest with squill leaves, in case a wolf should attack its young. [There’s more interesting history on Squill here.] For it knows that wolves usually run from leaves of this kind. It is said that when the she-bird is widowed by the loss of her mate, she holds the name and rite of marriage in such esteem, that because her first experience of love has deceived her, cheating her with the death of her beloved, since he has become permanently unfaithful and a bitter memory, causing her more grief by his death than he gave her pleasure from his affection, for this reason she refuses to marry again, and will not relax the oaths of propriety or the contract made with the man who pleased her. She reserves her love for her dead mate alone and keeps the name of wife for him. Learn, you women, how great is the grace of widowhood, when it is proclaimed even among the birds. Who, therefore, gave these laws to the turtle dove? If I look for a man as law-giver, I cannot find him. For there is no man who would dare – not even Paul dared – to prescribe laws for observing widowhood. He said only:’I will therefore that the younger women marry, bear children, guide the house, give none occasion to the adversary to speak reproachfully'(1 Timothy, 5:14). And elsewhere: ‘It is good for them if they abide even as I. But if they cannot contain, let them marry; for it is better to marry than to burn’ (1 Corinthians, 7:8,9). Paul desires in women what in turtle doves is an enduring characteristic. And elsewhere he urges the young to marry, because it is only with difficulty that our women achieve the virtue of turtle doves. Therefore it was God who infused the turtle doves with this grace or capacity for affection, giving them the virtue of continence; God, who alone can set forth the law which all should follow. The turtle dove is not inflamed by the flower of youth and is not affected by chance temptation. It cannot go back on its first pledge of love because it knows how to preserve the chastity which it plighted as the first duty of marriage.