Yet, although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of classic regularity — although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed “exquisite,” and felt that there was much of “strangeness” pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace home my own perception of “the strange.” 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, setting forth the full force of the Homeric epithet, “hyacinthine!”
The Tale
In the first half of this story the narrator meticulously describes his wife Ligeia with soaring, worshipful, effusive and poetic language that would make King Solomon blush. In extreme detail he sketches the features of her face, her hair, her forehead, her stature, even her voice in the most grandiloquent language. And anticipating the rules of political correctness by two centuries, he hastens to add that she’s not just hot; she’s also smart, with greater knowledge of “moral, physical, and mathematical science” than anyone he knew, man or woman. And then he describes how she died, and how he was devastated by the loss.
Somewhat less effusive is his description of his rebound squeeze, Lady Rowena Trevanion. In many ways Rowena is the opposite of her predecessor: fair where Ligeia was dark-haired, blue-eyed in contrast to the “brilliant black” of Ligeia’s peepers.
And instead of lavish praise, the narrator confides that he “loathed [Lady Rowena] with a hatred belonging more to demon than to man.” Then she too falls ill and is declared dead. And yet, while lying on her death bed, she repeatedly fights off Death, each time briefly returning to life, until at last she rises from the bed. Her shroud falls away and in appearance she is…Ligeia. The narrator doesn’t seem too excited about this.
The full story is here.
The Drink
For this cocktail we’re going to tap into that long, flowery description of Ligeia, with the “Homeric epithet” of “hyacinthine.” `It seems he associates her with the fragrant, colorful flower that evokes spring and rebirth.
Now, there is a class of Hyacinth cocktails which make use of either hyacinth flowers or of fruits and botanicals that impart a similar blue color. I couldn’t find hyacinth flowers this time of year, so I instead went with a mix of violet and elderflower liqueurs, combined with a highly-botanical gin. Now, if you stubbornly opt for actual hyacinth, make sure you use grape hyacinth, as the other variants are toxic and could make you into the latest meal for the Conqueror Worm. I played it safe and went a different, flowery route. The resulting recipe creates a light, floral drink that will have you “aroused” by Ligeia’s “large and luminous orbs.” (Those are Poe’s words, not mine!)
Ingredients:
1 oz gin
1 oz violet liqueur
½ oz Elderflower liqueur
Splash of lime juice
Sprig of mint (as garnish)
Combine all the liquid ingredients in a shaker and shake well. Add ice and shake some more. Strain into a champagne flute or some other glass that’s as graceful and slender as Ligeia. Garnish with mint, which, at least in my garden, keeps returning even though I thought it had died many times over.
Poe-Script
Within this tale, Ligeia composes a poem which you will recognize as “The Conqueror Worm.” In fact, the short story “Ligeia” was originally published without the poem in 1838, then Poe published “The Conqueror Worm” as a stand-alone poem in 1843, and then he revised “Ligeia” to include the poem in 1845. Kind of like how I’m going to re-use this blog post as an entry in my Poe cocktail book.
Chasing Phantoms 