Parallel between Edgar Allan Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne: Rational Malevolence

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When Evil Is Not Banality

We are often accustomed to think of evil as irrational—a violent outburst of our most ruthless, primitive, animalistic self, something beyond our control that takes over our lives, turning us into murderers and sinners. However, many have challenged this view. Citing the famous saying, “The devil is in the details,” one might argue that the truth lies in the opposite ideology. Supporting this perspective are Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Rappaccini’s Daughter, which convey an image of evil as calculating, meticulous, and detail-oriented. Yet, the two forms of malevolence manifest differently in their execution.

The Parallel Between Poe and Hawthorne

Beginning with Edgar Allan Poe—who is remembered as one of the first writers to delve into macabre themes such as death and cold-blooded murder—and his most famous short story, it is possible to analyze the nature of evil and its role in the narrative.

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True! – nervous – very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses – not destroyed – not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily – how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

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Beginning with Edgar Allan Poe—who is remembered as one of the first writers to delve into macabre themes such as death and cold-blooded murder—and his most famous short story, it is possible to analyze the nature of evil and its role in the narrative.

Starting from the beginning of the story, the protagonist—who is also the narrator—tries to convince the reader that he cannot be insane or driven by a manic impulse. On the contrary, he is utterly convinced of his own sanity precisely because he can recount the entire episode calmly and because his senses are heightened, not destroyed, as one might expect from madness.

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Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded – with what caution – with what foresight – with what dissimulation I went to work!

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What Triggers This Calculated Malevolence?

The narrator recounts that it was his master’s eye, the Evil Eye, that tormented him:

“[…but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but this Evil Eye].”

This moment in the story recalls the notion of evil in ancient Greek thought:

“The idea of evil as the antithesis of good and being, as non-being, appears in philosophy beginning with Stoic thought, which asserts that evil does not exist in itself, as it is merely the absence of good.”[1]

If it is true that evil is inherent in humanity and somehow always dormant within us, then it is precisely the Evil Eye—awakening from its stagnant, ancient torpor—that digs deep within and ignites even the smallest spark of malevolence.

The narrator transitions from a state of complete presence as an undisturbed human being to a moment of feeling seen, perceived, and exposed. Like a predator starved of fresh prey for too long, he awakens the instant someone fixes their gaze upon him. When the hidden evil within the narrator is observed and given a face, it becomes real, gaining substance and life. Consequently, it acts as a sentient entity.

The narrator describes a murder committed with great coldness—a feeling of icy detachment that gradually dissipates when he is forced to confront the reality of what has happened. However, this is not because he feels guilt or remorse for his sin, but because the pounding of the dead man’s heart haunts him even from beyond the grave.

The Fracturing of the Self and the Chaos of an Abandoned Universe

Confronting reality and admitting to what has happened places the narrator in a position where he sees himself in the victim. By killing another person, he shatters his own soul and, consequently, his own sense of self. What kind of world is it, then, where there is no God to stop such atrocities?

At the end, the narrator might have lost his mind when he confesses to the murder, as the sound of the heart pounding in his ears resembles his own. It is as if he had not only killed someone external to himself but also an emanation of his own being. This idea of an abandoned universe, where unspeakable acts occur, aligns with Nietzsche’s stark and cruel philosophy:

“The world is an irrational chaos… ‘God is dead! God remains dead! And we have killed him! How shall we console ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?’”[2]

Hawthorne’s Rappaccini’s Daughter: Malevolence and Divinity

Similarly, in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Rappaccini’s Daughter, we find this intricate interplay between malevolence and divinity embodied by Rappaccini himself. The scientist takes on a God-like role, creating a deadly poison through his experiments, a poison that lives and thrives within his daughter. Beatrice becomes a figure of death and despair.

From one perspective, Rappaccini’s approach is a clear example of calculated, rational malevolence. The scientist becomes both death and life—a puppeteer of a micro-universe of his own making, aiming to alter life on Earth by creating a sort of super-being that does not fear the impermanence of existence.

Unlike The Tell-Tale Heart, where evil is triggered by an eye, Rappaccini has a similar goal: creating something inherently malevolent (Beatrice’s very body). Yet, his creation becomes a vessel of divinity as well, because her emotions remain uncorrupted by the calculated malevolence of her creator and instead embody the pure essence of goodness. Her inner self shines bright, while her external being embodies death.

Strategic Evil and the Serpent in Hawthorne’s Story

In Hawthorne’s tale, evil is almost immediately perceived by an external figure. However, it continues to lurk in the shadows throughout the story. Like the serpent in the Garden of Creation, it carries out its schemes covertly. Its poison is potent yet measured, leading to gradual oblivion. In this sense, it is an even more strategic evil than that in Poe’s work.

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“[…] For Giovanni – believe it – though my body be nourished with poison, my spirit is God’s creature, and craves love as its daily food.”

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In this case, the figure of God can be displaced, becoming embodied and known in the form of Rappaccini within a world abandoned by God Himself, ultimately resting upon the soul of Beatrice.

Hawthorne’s universe thus evokes a kind of revolution in the systems of good and evil, but it is depicted in pessimistic terms: the creation of a new cycle, of a new humanity, remains poisoned, imbued with a divinity doomed to perish.

[1] Guido Brunetti, Il bene e il male, le due forze che muovono l’umanità

[2] Friedrich Nietzsche, La Gaia Scienza, 125, L’uomo Folle

Article published on November 6, 2023, in L’Altro Settimanale