'Morning On The Wissahiccon' by Edgar Allen Poe
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THE NATURAL scenery of America has often been contrasted, in its general features as well as in detail, with the landscape of the Old World- more especially of Europe- and not deeper has been the enthusiasm, than wide the dissension, of the supporters of each region. The discussion is one not likely to be soon closed, for, although much has been said on both sides, a word more yet remains to be said.
The most conspicuous of the British tourists who have attempted a comparison, seem to regard our northern and eastern seaboard, comparatively speaking, as all of America, at least, as all of the United States, worthy consideration. They say little, because they have seen less, of the gorgeous interior scenery of some of our western and southern districts- of the vast valley of Louisiana, for example,- a realization of the wildest dreams of paradise. For the most part, these travellers content themselves with a hasty inspection of the natural lions of the land- the Hudson, Niagara, the Catskills, Harper's Ferry, the lakes of New York, the Ohio, the prairies, and the Mississippi. These, indeed, are objects well worthy the contemplation even of him who has just clambered by the castellated Rhine, or roamed
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone;
but these are not all of which we can boast; and, indeed, I will be so hardy as to assert that there are innumerable quiet, obscure, and scarcely explored nooks, within the limits of the United States, that, by the true artist, or cultivated lover of the grand and beautiful amid the works of God, will be preferred to each and to all of the chronicled and better accredited scenes to which I have referred.
In fact, the real Edens of the land lie far away from the track of our own most deliberate tourists- how very far, then, beyond the reach of the foreigner, who, having made with his publisher at home arrangements for a certain amount of comment upon America, to be furnished in a stipulated period, can hope to fulfil his agreement in no other manner than by steaming it, memorandum- book in hand, through only the most beaten thoroughfares of the country!
I mentioned, just above, the valley of Louisiana. Of all extensive areas of natural loveliness, this is perhaps the most lovely. No fiction has approached it. The most gorgeous imagination might derive suggestions from its exuberant beauty. And beauty is, indeed, its sole character. It has little, or rather nothing, of the sublime. Gentle undulations of soil, interwreathed with fantastic crystallic streams, banked by flowery slopes, and backed by a forest vegetation, gigantic, glossy, multicoloured, sparkling with gay birds and burthened with perfume- these features make up, in the vale of Louisiana, the most voluptuous natural scenery upon earth.
But, even of this delicious region, the sweeter portions are reached only by the bypaths. Indeed, in America generally, the traveller who would behold the finest landscapes, must seek them not by the railroad, nor by the steamboat, not by the stage-coach, nor in his private carriage, not yet even on horseback- but on foot. He must walk, he must leap ravines, he must risk his neck among precipices, or he must leave unseen the truest, the richest, and most unspeakable glories of the land.
Now in the greater portion of Europe no such necessity exists. In England it exists not at all. The merest dandy of a tourist may there visit every nook worth visiting without detriment to his silk stockings; so thoroughly known are all points of interest, and so well-arranged are the means of attaining them. This consideration has never been allowed its due weight, in comparisons of the natural scenery of the Old and New Worlds. The entire loveliness of the former is collated with only the most noted, and with by no means the most eminent items in the general loveliness of the latter.
River scenery has, unquestionably, within itself, all the main elements of beauty, and, time out of mind, has been the favourite theme of the poet. But much of this fame is attributable to the predominance of travel in fluvial over that in mountainous districts. In the same way, large rivers, because usually highways, have, in all countries, absorbed an undue share of admiration. They are more observed, and, consequently, made more the subject of discourse, than less important, but often more interesting streams.
A singular exemplification of my remarks upon this head may be found in the Wissahiccon, a brook, (for more it can scarcely be called,) which empties itself into the Schuylkill, about six miles westward of Philadelphia. Now the Wissahiccon is of so remarkable a loveliness that, were it flowing in England, it would be the theme of every bard, and the common topic of every tongue, if, indeed, its banks were not parcelled off in lots, at an exorbitant price, as building-sites for the villas of the opulent. Yet it is only within a very few years that any one has more than heard of the Wissahiccon, while the broader and more navigable water into which it flows, has been long celebrated as one of the finest specimens of American river scenery. The Schuylkill, whose beauties have been much exaggerated, and whose banks, at least in the neighborhood of Philadelphia, are marshy like those of the Delaware, is not at all comparable, as an object of picturesque interest, with the more humble and less notorious rivulet of which we speak.
It was not until Fanny Kemble, in her droll book about the United States, pointed out to the Philadelphians the rare loveliness of a stream which lay at their own doors, that this loveliness was more than suspected by a few adventurous pedestrians of the vicinity. But, the "Journal" having opened all eyes, the Wissahiccon, to a certain extent, rolled at once into notoriety. I say "to a certain extent," for, in fact, the true beauty of the stream lies far above the route of the Philadelphian picturesque-hunters, who rarely proceed farther than a mile or two above the mouth of the rivulet- for the very excellent reason that here the carriage-road stops. I would advise the adventurer who would behold its finest points to take the Ridge Road, running westwardly from the city, and, having reached the second lane beyond the sixth mile-stone, to follow this lane to its termination. He will thus strike the Wissahiccon, at one of its best reaches, and, in a skiff, or by clambering along its banks, he can go up or down the stream, as best suits his fancy, and in either direction will meet his reward.
I have already said, or should have said, that the brook is narrow. Its banks are generally, indeed almost universally, precipitous, and consist of high hills, clothed with noble shrubbery near the water, and crowned at a greater elevation, with some of the most magnificent forest trees of America, among which stands conspicuous the liriodendron tulipiferum. The immediate shores, however, are of granite, sharply defined or moss-covered, against which the pellucid water lolls in its gentle flow, as the blue waves of the Mediterranean upon the steps of her palaces of marble. Occasionally in front of the cliffs, extends a small definite plateau of richly herbaged land, affording the most picturesque position for a cottage and garden which the richest imagination could conceive. The windings of the stream are many and abrupt, as is usually the case where banks are precipitous, and thus the impression conveyed to the voyager's eye, as he proceeds, is that of an endless succession of infinitely varied small lakes, or, more properly speaking, tarns. The Wissahiccon, however, should be visited, not like "fair Melrose," by moonlight, or even in cloudy weather, but amid the brightest glare of a noonday sun; for the narrowness of the gorge through which it flows, the height of the hills on either hand, and the density of the foliage, conspire to produce a gloominess, if not an absolute dreariness of effect, which, unless relieved by a bright general light, detracts from the mere beauty of the scene.
Not long ago I visited the stream by the route described, and spent the better part of a sultry day in floating in a skiff upon its bosom. The heat gradually overcame me, and, resigning myself to the influence of the scenes and of the weather, and of the gentle moving current, I sank into a half slumber, during which my imagination revelled in visions of the Wissahiccon of ancient days- of the "good old days" when the Demon of the Engine was not, when picnics were undreamed of, when "water privileges" were neither bought nor sold, and when the red man trod alone, with the elk, upon the ridges that now towered above. And, while gradually these conceits took possession of my mind, the lazy brook had borne me, inch by inch, around one promontory and within full view of another that bounded the prospect at the distance of forty or fifty yards. It was a steep rocky cliff, abutting far into the stream, and presenting much more of the Salvator character than any portion of the shore hitherto passed. What I saw upon this cliff, although surely an object of very extraordinary nature, the place and season considered, at first neither startled nor amazed me- so thoroughly and appropriately did it chime in with the half-slumberous fancies that enwrapped me. I saw, or dreamed that I saw, standing upon the extreme verge of the precipice, with neck outstretched, with ears erect, and the whole attitude indicative of profound and melancholy inquisitiveness, one of the oldest and boldest of those identical elks which had been coupled with the red men of my vision.
I say that, for a few moments, this apparition neither startled nor amazed me. During this interval my whole soul was bound up in intense sympathy alone. I fancied the elk repining, not less than wondering, at the manifest alterations for the worse, wrought upon the brook and its vicinage, even within the last few years, by the stern hand of the utilitarian. But a slight movement of the animal's head at once dispelled the dreaminess which invested me, and aroused me to a full sense of novelty of the adventure. I arose upon one knee within the skiff, and, while I hesitated whether to stop my career, or let myself float nearer to the object of my wonder, I heard the words "hist!" "hist!" ejaculated quickly but cautiously, from the shrubbery overhead. In an instant afterwards, a negro emerged from the thicket, putting aside the bushes with care, and treading stealthily. He bore in one hand a quantity of salt, and, holding it towards the elk, gently yet steadily approached. The noble animal, although a little fluttered, made no attempt at escape. The negro advanced; offered the salt; and spoke a few words of encouragement or conciliation. Presently, the elk bowed and stamped, and then lay quietly down and was secured with a halter.
Thus ended my romance of the elk. It was a pet of great age and very domestic habits, and belonged to an English family occupying a villa in the vicinity.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Morning On The Wissahiccon by Edgar Allen Poe: A Literary Masterpiece
Are you a fan of Edgar Allen Poe's works? If so, you're in for a treat with his classic prose, "Morning on the Wissahiccon." This piece is a beautiful representation of Poe's unique style and his ability to paint vivid pictures with his words.
Plot and Structure
The story takes place in Philadelphia, where the narrator takes a stroll along the Wissahiccon creek. The narrator describes in detail the picturesque scenery around him - the gentle flow of the water, the chirping of birds, the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. The narrator's descriptions are so vivid that you can almost feel the coolness of the morning air and see the beauty of the surroundings.
As the narrator continues his walk, he reflects on the beauty of nature and the peace it brings to the soul. He contrasts this with the hustle and bustle of city life, which he finds oppressive and draining. The narrator concludes that it is in nature that one can find true happiness and contentment.
The structure of the prose is simple but effective. The story is divided into short paragraphs, each one focusing on a different aspect of the scenery or the narrator's thoughts. The use of short paragraphs and simple sentences creates a sense of tranquility and calm, which perfectly fits the mood of the story.
Literary Analysis
As one would expect from an Edgar Allen Poe piece, "Morning on the Wissahiccon" is full of literary devices and techniques. One of the most prominent devices used in the piece is imagery. Poe's descriptions of the scenery are so vivid that the reader can almost feel the coolness of the morning air and the warmth of the sun on their face. This use of imagery is a hallmark of Poe's writing style and is evident in many of his other works.
Another literary device used in the piece is symbolism. The Wissahiccon creek represents nature and its beauty, while the city represents the hectic and oppressive nature of modern society. Through this symbolism, Poe is able to convey his message that it is in nature that one can find true happiness and contentment.
Poe's use of repetition is also notable in this piece. He repeats the phrase "Oh, how different" several times throughout the story, emphasizing the contrast between nature and the city. This repetition creates a sense of emphasis and power, highlighting the importance of nature in the narrator's life.
Lastly, the tone of the piece is one of contemplation and reflection. The narrator spends a lot of time reflecting on the beauty of nature and the meaning of life. This contemplative tone is a common feature of Poe's writing and is evident in many of his other works.
Interpretation
So, what is the deeper meaning behind "Morning on the Wissahiccon?" At its core, the story is a reflection on the beauty of nature and its importance in our lives. The narrator contrasts the peace and tranquility of nature with the oppressive and draining nature of modern society. He concludes that it is in nature that we can find true happiness and contentment.
This message is particularly relevant in today's world, where many of us are caught up in the hectic pace of modern life. We often forget to take a step back and appreciate the beauty of the natural world around us. Poe reminds us that nature is an essential part of our lives and that we should take the time to appreciate it.
Conclusion
"Morning on the Wissahiccon" is a beautiful representation of Edgar Allen Poe's unique writing style. Through his use of vivid imagery, symbolism, and repetition, Poe is able to convey a powerful message about the importance of nature in our lives. The contemplative tone of the piece adds to its power and makes it a timeless masterpiece of literature. If you haven't read this piece yet, I highly recommend it. It's a beautiful reminder of the beauty and power of nature.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Morning On The Wissahiccon: A Masterpiece of Descriptive Prose
Edgar Allen Poe is a name that is synonymous with horror and the macabre. However, his literary prowess extends far beyond the realm of horror fiction. One of his lesser-known works, Morning On The Wissahiccon, is a masterpiece of descriptive prose that showcases Poe's exceptional talent for painting vivid pictures with words.
The Wissahiccon is a small river that flows through Philadelphia, and in this piece, Poe takes us on a journey along its banks on a beautiful morning. The piece is divided into three sections, each of which describes a different aspect of the scenery.
In the first section, Poe sets the scene by describing the river itself. He paints a picture of a tranquil, meandering stream, with the sun shining down on its surface and the trees on its banks casting long shadows. He describes the water as "clear as crystal" and notes that it is so still that "not a ripple disturbs its surface." This description sets the tone for the rest of the piece, which is filled with similarly vivid and evocative language.
In the second section, Poe turns his attention to the trees that line the riverbank. He describes them as "majestic" and notes that they are "clothed in the richest verdure." He also notes that the leaves of the trees are "touched with the hues of autumn," which suggests that the piece is set in the fall. This description of the trees is particularly effective because it not only paints a picture of the scenery but also creates a mood. The majestic trees and their autumnal colors suggest a sense of grandeur and melancholy, which is in keeping with the overall tone of the piece.
In the third and final section, Poe describes the wildlife that inhabits the river and its banks. He notes that the air is filled with the "sweet music of the birds," and that the river is home to "myriad fish." He also describes a "solitary heron" that is "seen occasionally flapping its slow way along the margin of the stream." This description of the wildlife is particularly effective because it adds a sense of life and movement to the otherwise still and tranquil scene.
Throughout the piece, Poe's use of language is masterful. He employs a wide range of literary devices, including simile, metaphor, and personification, to create a rich and evocative description of the scenery. For example, he describes the river as "a mirror, at first scarcely agitated, then giving back, confusedly, the images of the trees and the sky." This use of personification not only creates a vivid image of the river but also imbues it with a sense of life and movement.
Another example of Poe's masterful use of language can be found in his description of the heron. He writes that it "flaps its slow way along the margin of the stream, as if a mere feather on the air." This simile not only creates a vivid image of the heron but also suggests a sense of grace and lightness.
In addition to his use of literary devices, Poe's choice of words is also noteworthy. He employs a wide range of adjectives to describe the scenery, including "tranquil," "majestic," "rich," and "sweet." These adjectives not only create a vivid picture of the scenery but also add a sense of emotion and mood to the piece.
Overall, Morning On The Wissahiccon is a masterpiece of descriptive prose that showcases Edgar Allen Poe's exceptional talent for painting vivid pictures with words. Through his use of literary devices and carefully chosen words, Poe creates a rich and evocative description of the scenery that is both beautiful and melancholy. This piece is a testament to Poe's skill as a writer and a reminder that his literary legacy extends far beyond the realm of horror fiction.
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