Edward, Edward

For the first poem in Lionel Trilling’s anthology The Experience of Literature he chose this disturbing Old English ballad, “Edward, Edward,” but it’s easy to see what drew him to include it. The poem has the same kind of startling effect as his first dramatic selection, Oedipus, or the anecdotal story “Appointment in Samara” that he references in his analysis of the play. The poem tells the story of Edward, who goes to his mother with blood on his sword. When he tells her that it is the blood of his hawk, she is immediately suspicious, saying that the hawk’s blood is not that red. So this time Edward changes his story and claims that it is his horse that he’s killed. But mother is not buying this either, as his horse is old and his anguish doesn’t make sense considering that he can get a new horse. Finally, he comes out with the shocking revelation:

          O, I have killed my father dear,
          Mother, mother:
          O, I have killed my father dear,
          Alas! and woe is me, O!

But rather than reacting to her husband’s death, the role of the mother in the poem is more one of his conscience. She begins a series of questions that become ever more disturbing, almost more so than the deed itself.

          And what penance will ye suffer for that?
          My dear son, now tell me, O.
          I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
          And I’ll fare over the sea, O.

So far, so good, but his choice of exile seems a bit lenient for such a crime. Still, she continues the questioning asking what will happen to his inheritance that he leaves behind, and he says they will have to age into ruins. A more important question inquires as to the fate of his wife and children, but nothing can prepare the reader for the shock of reading that “The world is large, let them beg through life.” Finally, she wants to know what will happen to her and he seems to rightly assess that, “Mother, mother: The curse of hell from me shall you bear.” What this seems to say is that she will be forever associated with the act of her son.

Trilling’s analysis of the poem begins with the two shocking statements, the first being the death of his father, which he accurately assumes that we have been prepared for by “his two prevaricating answers.” The relationship of the noble to his hawk, and then his horse, are increasingly strong and therefore the expectation of something more horrible is realized in the death of his father by his own hand. But as if attempting to replicate the shock in the poem, Trilling goes on to state, “we are wholly unprepared for the second revelation, that he has killed his father at the behest of his mother.” What? From my reading of the poem, nothing of the sort seemed to present itself. But then I realized what I had missed. Though I hadn’t pondered it long, the last line of the poem had made no sense to me. But in re-reading in this light the meaning is suddenly clear.

          The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
          Such counsels you gave to me, O.

Trilling makes a wonderful observation at this point, that the ballad form of the poem, rigid and objective, marches forward despite the horrific revelations within and offers no commentary on the action within. The audience is shocked, but the poem itself never flinches. The characters, however, are not so detached. Edward is clearly sad about his mortal deed, and his mother senses this, inquiring about “Some other evil ye fear.” Once his confession is out, however, the further questions seem to build his hatred to the point where “at last the curse is torn from him” and “it is that much the more terrible because it has been so long held back.” But Trilling also rightly points out that the poem does not tell the “whole story.” The audience doesn’t know what might have motivated the son’s deed or the mother’s suggestion he carry it out. This disparity, he claims, “is strangely pleasurable.” Returning to the idea of form again, Trilling posits that this satisfaction is a result of the “return of the past, which the poem had seemed determined to exclude from its purview.”

The rest of his analysis deals with the ballad form itself. The distinctive aspects in “Edward, Edward” are the repetition of certain phrases, suggestive of the song form of its original recitations, and the question and answer format of the dialogue. Interestingly, he speaks of a trans-Atlantic migration of the song to America and the toning down of the tragedy in the process. The son kills his brother instead of the father, and the mother is not complicit in the murder, sending him away to escape rather than to exile. Again, Trilling is masterful in his understanding of literature and the moral implications of the content, and delivers another tremendous analysis.