The Edgar A. Poe Calendar

In Memoriam: Thomas Holley Chivers

2009-12-18T09:11:00.002-05:00

On December 18, 1858, the doctor/poet Thomas Holley Chivers died at the age of 49. Both Edgar Poe and Dr. Chivers were born in 1809 (though it seems little attention has been paid to Chivers's bicentennial, outside his home state of Georgia). Later in Poe's life, Chivers became one of his closest confidantes and an almost-partner for The Stylus. After Poe's death, he became one of his staunchest defenders — though he quickly turned eccentric.

Chivers wrote a memorial poem to Poe as well as a biography, Life of Poe, which was excessively praising of his friend. However, he also included strange accusations that most of Poe's work was a rip-off of his own. Chivers particularly noted "The Raven" and claimed he inspired the refrain "nevermore." Certainly, both poets had similar themes in their stories — though, while Poe suffered the loss of many women he loved (including Jane Stanard and his wife Virginia), the themes of loss in Chivers's poetry was inspired by the loss of his children.

Chivers married his16-year old first-cousin in 1827. An interloping uncle claimed that Chivers was abusive to his wife (it is unclear if this is true) and she left him before their daughter was born. A Georgia court eventually invalidated his first marriage because she had abandoned him for over five years. He soon remarried, this time to a woman from Massachusetts and, with her, Chivers had four children — however, each died off in childhood one by one. Much of his poetry focuses on the death of his children, oftentimes discussing their ascension to heaven. Like Poe, Chivers believed poems should be short but, very unlike Poe, he also believed poetry was a gift from God and that poems were written through divine inspiration.

The problem with Chivers's poetry is that it's all just a bit much. His images are over-the-top, his Poe-like repetition, assonance and internal rhyme unchecked by moderation. Parts of his poems are amazing — but few poems in their entirety are tolerable. This may have been what inspired Poe to call Chivers "one of the best and one of the worst poets in America." Much of his poetry is imitative, which led to one anonymous reviewer (possibly Evert Augustus Duyckinck) to break him down as 30% Percy Bysshe Shelley, 20% Poe, 20% "mild idiocy," 10% "gibbering idiocy," 10% "raving mania" and 10% "sweetness and originality." Perhaps, but Chivers's poetry is worth attempting to read.

Struck with sudden illness, Chivers wrote his will shortly before his death in 1858. His last words were, "All is perfect peace with me." In his will, he left one dollar for his first wife and their daughter. He was buried, at his request, under his front doorstep (his home was named Villa Allegra, after his favorite daughter) before later being re-interred in a more traditional cemetery.

Rest in peace, Dr. Chivers.

*There seems to be only one known photo of Chivers, and all images of him are some variation of the original. Having already used that image in an earlier post, I presume it appropriate to offer an alternative: his grave in Decatur Cemetery, courtesy of Flickr.

I was not his friend, nor he mine

2009-12-17T08:57:00.004-05:00

Rufus Wilmot Griswold was the first major figure to express Poe's personality after the author's death in 1849. He took great liberties, embellishing Poe's bad habits or character flaws and even making a few up. It is not entirely clear what inspired Griswold, nicknamed "the Grand Turk," in what is now labeled a "character assassination." Conjecture says that his jealousy for the attention of Fanny Osgood had something to do with it; perhaps a rivalry began when the editorship of Graham's Magazine changed hands; Griswold may have never forgiven Poe for his lukewarm review of The Poets and Poetry of America; or, Griswold was still angry that Poe mocked him during a lecture tour. Likely all of those ideas are at least partially true. More importantly, however, is understanding what Griswold wrote on December 17, 1849 — two months after Poe's death.

Poe was not without his defenders, after all. One of the loudest voices on his behalf was Sarah Helen Whitman, the woman who almost became Poe's second wife. She was suspicious that Griswold was the author of the so-called "Ludwig article," the obituary which announced Poe's death in a less-than-sympathetic manner. Whitman herself had been quoted in the work of Rufus Griswold, allegedly for calling Poe "intemperate and dissolute." Responding to the claim, Whitman wrote that, regardless of Griswold's interpretation of Poe, he had never been that way in her experience. Griswold casually side-stepped the accusation that he was a liar, writing back in a letter dated December 17, 1849, simply that "I was not his friend, nor he mine."

That lack of friendship might be just enough for Griswold not to care much about the damage he was doing to Poe's posthumous reputation.

That same day, a poet named John Greenleaf Whittier turned 42 years old. Perpetually nicknamed "the Quaker Poet," Whittier was well-represented in Griswold's poetry anthology. Whittier, in fact, was likely one of the New England writers that Poe thought was over-represented in Griswold's book. Likely, Poe also disapproved of Whittier's poetry which, at the time, was almost exclusively abolitionist in nature.

The two poets rarely crossed paths and, ultimately, they would likely have admitted that they were not friends. Nevertheless, Whittier (who generally avoided the literary battles of the day) was one of Poe's targets in his "Chapter on Autography." Poe wrote he "is placed by his particular admirers in the very front rank of American poets. We are not disposed, however, to agree with their decision in every respect." Though Poe admitted Whittier was "a fine versifier" he lacked imagination. Likely referring to the anti-slavery works, Poe added succinctly: "His themes are never to our liking."

Whittier never took it personally. In fact, several years later, Whittier would contribute a few words in honor of the memorial to Poe which was dedicated in 1875.

Osgood's happy refinement

2009-12-13T08:29:00.004-05:00

On December 13, 1845, the Broadway Journal printed a review of Poems, a collection of poetry by Frances Sargent Osgood. Poe praises her work for its "happy refinement" and noted that its author "gives a charm inexpressible to everything which flows from her pen." Poe's opinion of Osgood, however, may be partially tainted by their personal relationship. Earlier that year, the two had engaged in a heavy (and public) literary flirtation while Poe's wife Virginia was sick. They exchanged poems addressed to one another in Poe's own magazine, the Broadway Journal.

Interpretations of the relationship between Poe and Fanny Osgood are wide-ranging. Both were married at the time, though rumors suggest that Osgood was "estranged" from her husband, the artist Samuel Stillman Osgood. One person, noted for being a bit of a trouble maker, suggested that Osgood's third daughter, Fanny Fay, was actually the bastard child from the affair with Poe. Little Fanny Fay did not survive long and, though no evidence supports Elizabeth Ellet's claim, some modern scholars suggest that Poe's poem "Ulalume" is about his lost child.

Rufus Griswold almost certainly developed a crush on Osgood too. It seems to me that Osgood was a bit too flirtatious for her own good and some weak-willed men, like Griswold, read too much into it. Nevertheless, rivalry for the attention of Osgood may have led Griswold to build up further spite against Poe.

Ultimately, there is very little about Osgood's poetry that is memorable. A stereotypical woman poet of her era, much of her work has a damsel in distress vibe to it. Breathy, overloaded with dashes and exclamation points, most of her poems use some version of the word "sigh" at least once. One is about a faithful dog that does not leave his master's side, even as he is dying. Not very profound stuff.

The reality seems to be that the poetry exchanged by Osgood and Poe was platonic, not hot and heavy as some suggest (apparently without reading the interchanges). One, for example, was published in the same issue as Poe's review of Osgood's poetry. It is addressed to Poe and poetically notes how she takes a risk in writing her poetry, launches it like a ship, and tries to find a sympathetic "friend." Poe, the "you" of the poem, should be the pilot of the ship, she says. So, Poe is steering her poetry (like the editor he was), as she tries to find a friend. Not much scandal there, really.

Nevertheless, some even go so far as to say that the strange romance (which it was not) led to the creation of one of the greatest American masterpieces ever written. If you'll excuse me, there is no evidence whatsoever to support this conclusion. None. And the base generalizations in the article, the assumptions one must make for this theory to be plausible, have no basis either (Fanny Osgood as one of the most written about poets? Give me an example. Then explain to me how the infamously-reclusive, anti-women-writers Hawthorne even knew Osgood, let alone was interested in her enough to turn her into Hester Prynne).

"The Raven" never flitting...

2009-01-29T19:10:00.003-05:00

I can't resist writing more about "The Raven" today.

I'd like to dispel one major rumor about this amazing poem: it is not scary.

When it was featured on The Simpsons "Treehouse of Horror," Bart and Lisa conclude that people must have been more easily scared in the 19th century. Whether or not that is true, their reading of "The Raven" was absurd. Poe did not intend to write a scary poem.

As his phenomonal (and controversial) essay "The Philosophy of Composition" explains, writing "The Raven" was a step-by-step process. After thinking about length, Poe writes: "My next thought concerned the choice of an impression, or effect, to be conveyed: and here I may as well observe that, throughout the construction, I kept steadily in view the design of rendering the work universally appreciable." So Poe wants to write a poem that everyone would enjoy, while never dismissing his main point in his poetic theory: "the point, I mean, that Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem." Beauty, of course, is the highest form of truth. But using what tone should this beauty manifest? "Its highest manifestation... all experience has shown that this tone is one of sadness. Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Melancholy is thus the most legitimate of all the poetical tones."

The bold emphasis is mine. Poe sat down to write a poem that was universally beautiful because of its sadness. "The Raven," then is meant to be sad, not scary. Oddly, however, Poe's emotional tone throughout the poem changes. We can probably agree that the first line (and its whopping eight-meter trochee) — Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary — is a sad line. We feel some ominous foreboding in those first couple stanzas, and we feel that the narrator is in pain... until the raven comes in through the window.

After perching on a pallid bust of Pallas, Poe writes this line: " Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling." The narrator is smiling because of how comical the situation is! And it's pretty humorous. Here's this guy, trying to forget his lost Lenore, moping in his melancholy, and suddenly this jet-black bird flies in through the window. The narrator is so amused by it, in fact, that he asks for its name, much like you might say to a recently-found stray puppy. "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.'

With each repitition of the word, the narrative within the poem sinks deeper. Poe claims at one point that he thought of the word "Nevermore" first, then built a poem around it (very unlikely). But, here's his line of thinking, now that he knows he wants a sad poem: "I betook myself to ordinary induction, with the view of obtaining some artistic piquancy which might serve me as a key-note in the construction of the poem — some pivot upon which the whole structure might turn." The most obvious pivot to Poe was some kind of refrain (or, as the term was commonly used, a "burden") that focused both on sound and thought. The refrain would not change, Poe decided, only how it was applied. But what word? "To have force, [it] must be sonorous and susceptible of protracted emphasis, admitted no doubt: and these considerations inevitably led me to the long o as the most sonorous vowel, in connection with r as the most producible consonant." With that in mind, how could Poe not use the word "Nevermore"?

Upon its first utterance, the word is supposedly the raven's name. This makes the narrator laugh a bit, as he says:

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But for this poem to really be sad, the comical elements have to slide away. And what would really make the reader feel the melancholy in this poem? Well, remember that Poe is trying to be universal — and what is more universally sad than Death? Poe says the answer is quite obvious: "When it most closely allies itself to Beauty: the death, then, of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world."

And there's Poe's poetic theory, in a nutshell — applied perfectly to "The Raven" (that is, of course, if you really want to believe his "Philosophy of Composition"). This might be a good explanation, however, to his frequent use of dead women in his stories. Sure, you can make the superficial assumption that he wrote about dead women because of all the dead women in his personal life. Or, you can throw out autobiographical readings and look at the text independently and ask yourself if Poe was right: is the death of a beautiful woman the most poetical (i.e. melancholy) topic in the world?

"The Raven" also allows me to dispel another rumor. There's a belief out there that Poe was never successful during his lifetime. I'll clear that up right now: Poe was one of the most successful poets of the 1840s. He was nationally and internationally known after "The Raven" was published (and re-published again and again), and many considered his poem the most perfect poem constructed in the English language. For its publication, however, he received only a token monetary amount. So, success can be gauged in many ways, not always financially.

Admirers of "The Raven," by the way, included Elizabeth Barrett, William Gilmore Simms, Margaret Fuller, and many, many others. Are you one of them?

Return good for evil

2009-12-15T09:03:00.002-05:00

Psychoanalytic critics often suggest that Poe was obsessed with sick, dying women — that he was personally attracted only to women who were closely aligned with death (rather than it being a literary theory for how to draw in the largest audience with the most poetical topic in the world). Others say that Poe was a pedophile, looking particularly at his relationship with his wife Virginia (I've said this before, I'll say it again: she did grow up) or, at the very least, that he was only attracted to women younger than him.

These critics and analysts conveniently ignore Poe's engagement to Sarah Helen Power, the widowed Mrs. Whitman. She was an accomplished woman and published poet who was exactly six years older than Poe — to the day — and, being quite healthy, outlived him by nearly thirty years.

The couple became engaged after Poe's proposal in a cemetery in December 1848, but there were several compromises for this to happen. One major one was that Poe promised to stop drinking (a promise he seems to have kept, despite meddling from an anonymous interloper). More importantly, however, was Whitman's financial compromise. She was, after all, quite wealthy.

Whitman's family (particularly her mother Mrs. Anna Power) opposed her relationship with Poe, by then a well-known but financially-struggling writer. They assumed he was only interested in the family’s wealth. To assuage them, she signed over her claim to the estate in a contract dated December 15, 1848. She informed Poe the same day, and he added his own signature a week later. He asked Whitman to "Keep up heart — for all will go well. My mother [i.e. Maria Clemm] sends her dearest love and says she will return good for evil & treat you much better than your mother has treated me." That settled, the wedding date was soon chosen. As we all know, however, the wedding never took place.

Unmarried, Whitman never had to give up on her family's wealth (nor did she give up on Poe, who she staunchly defended). When she died in 1878, she gave a substantial portion of her savings to charity, including a fund for "Colored People" and the Rhode Island Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

*The image above is a portrait of Sarah Helen Whitman by Cephas Giovanni Thompson, now in the collection of the Providence Athenaeum.

A wedding and a death

2009-07-13T10:06:00.011-04:00

At a ceremony held at St. John's Protestant Episcopal Church in Baltimore, presided over by "Rev. Mr. Wyatt," William Clemm Jr. married Maria Poe on July 13, 1817.

Maria Poe was the younger sister of David Poe, Jr. — other siblings were John Hancock Poe, William Poe, George Washington Poe, Samuel Poe, and Elizabeth Poe. She was William Clemm's second wife and their marriage would produce three children: Henry Clemm, Virginia Marie Clemm, and Virginia Eliza Clemm (the first Virginia died as an infant; her younger sister was born the same year and given her name as an honor). That second Virginia Clemm would later marry Edgar A. Poe.

Very little is known about the marriage of William Clemm and Maria Poe Clemm. He already had five children from his first marriage and very little property or money when he had his second marriage. His first wife, in fact, was Maria's first cousin Harriet Poe. He died in 1826 and left what little he had to the five children from his first marriage. It's likely he never met Edgar Poe, who was living overseas with the Allans at the time of this marriage.

A relative of Clemm, presumably a nephew, became minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Baltimore — and presided over the three-minute burial service held after Poe's death in 1849.

Today also marks the death of George Rex Graham in 1894. Over his 81-year life, he experienced a series of ups and downs. Between 1839 and 1840, he acquired the Saturday Evening Post and then merged two Philadelphia journals to create Graham's Magazine. Shortly after, he hired Poe as his book review editor at the salary of $800 a year. Though Poe questioned the "namby-pamby" magazine on occasion, he helped lead it to become one of the most prominent publications in the country. Graham was concerned about his writers: his magazine was one of the first in the U. S. to copyright each issue and some writers (if they were paid at all) were granted an average five times more than other magazines. After Poe left, Graham hired Rufus Wilmot Griswold to replace him.

Nevertheless, Graham was pushed into bankruptcy in 1848 and lost controlling interest of both the Saturday Evening Post and Graham's Magazine. The latter magazine ceased publication in 1858. At the age of 70, Graham lost his eyesight and relied on the financial assistance of publisher George William Childs. The one-time powerhouse of American publishing, Graham died in obscurity in Orange, New Jersey on July 13, 1894 and was buried in Philadelphia's Laurel Hill Cemetery — apparently unmarked (I could not find it after three or four attempts).

Rosalie Mackenzie Poe

2009-09-03T08:54:00.005-04:00

Poe's younger sister was christened "Rosalie Mackenzie Poe" in Richmond on September 3, 1812. I've discussed Poe's older brother here before, but this is the first (and, likely, the only) post on his sister.

Rosalie is a bit of an enigma; even her birth is unknown (believed to be about December 20, 1810). Rumors persist that she was mentally deficient in some way, though it's unclear if these reports are just another attempt at slandering Poe.* Rumors also suggest that she was not the daughter of David Poe, Jr., father of Edgar and William Henry Leonard Poe, but that she was a bastard child, born after mother Eliza Poe had an affair with another man (inspiring David to abandon her).** While Eliza was on her deathbed, her children, including Rosalie, were tended to by fellow actors with the last name of Usher. After Eliza's death, the Mackenzie family of Richmond took in her youngest daughter and legally adopted her (something that the Allan family never did for Poe).

When William and Jane (Scott) Mackenzie took little Rosalie in, they already had two children (a third, the first-born, died within his first year). They eventually would have ten children in addition to the little one they adopted. Only a couple days after her christening, a woman reported to Frances Allan (Poe's foster-mother) that "Rosalie is not expected to live." Despite the pessimistic outlook, Rosalie survived that illness and, in fact, went on to outlive her brother by 25 years.

Rosalie attended a girls' school in Richmond run by Miss Jane Mackenzie, sister of adoptive father William Mackenzie. Although they grew up in the same town, it is unclear if Poe saw his sister often in his early years (though the Allan family and the Mackenzie family did correspond). In 1842, she traveled to Philadelphia to spend a week with her blood brother (he called her "Rose")e. They corresponded from then on, Poe giving her updates on his wife Virginia's health and she requesting autographs for friends. In 1843, the Mackenzies built a home they named Duncan Lodge, where Poe visited a few times in 1848 and 1849. Rosalie became either a teacher or a teacher's assistant at Miss Jane's school for about nine years. We know she played the piano; the Richmond Poe Museum still has the piano on which she played.

Rosalie was raised in relative wealth. However, after the Civil War, the family fortune was squandered by one of her brothers-by-adoption. Rosalie should have been the legal heir to Poe's published works after her brother's death. Instead, somehow his works were given to Rufus Griswold, either by mistake, by trickery, or by Maria Clemm (Poe's mother-in-law). Rosalie made some attempts, under the advice of a lawyer named J. R. Thompson, to claim those rights. The result was a bit of a family quarrel between Rosalie and Maria Poe (who was also her father's sister). Griswold seems to have also stepped in to push Rosalie aside.

Instead, Rosalie became a desperate beggar, occasionally supported by fans of her brother's work. She survived as best she could by selling portraits of her brother the famous author. In her 60s, she was admitted to a shelter in Washington, D.C. There, she died on July 21, 1874. She had expressed a hope to be buried by her brother. Instead, she was buried at Rock Creek Cemetery in a pauper's grave owned by the home.

* Some state these rumors as fact. Jeffrey Meyers reports she was "a dull, tedious, pathetic figure, [who] failed to develop mentally after the age of twelve" and that Poe was "repelled" by her. Earlier, biographer Joseph Wood Krutch called her a "harmless imbecile."

** One such accusation came from John Allan, Poe's less-than-ideal foster-father (perhaps ironic, considering Allan had his own bastard children). It doesn't seem impossible. Either way, Poe biographer William Bitter blames Allan's rumor-mongering for Rosalie never getting married.

In Memoriam: Eliza Poe

2009-12-08T09:52:00.011-05:00

Elizabeth Arnold Hopkins Poe, known today mostly as "Eliza Poe," died on December 8, 1811 in Richmond, VA. She was 24 years old and left behind three children.

Eliza Arnold was born in London, England in 1787. After her father's death, she sailed with her mother, an actress, to Boston in 1795. There, a nine-year-old Eliza debuted on stage, playing a character named Biddy Blair. That year, her mother re-married and the couple became founding members of a new acting troupe. Though her mother died in 1798, Eliza stayed with the group of traveling actors. Throughout her stage career, Eliza played over 300 characters, including a few singing roles.

In the summer of 1802, at age 15, Eliza married Charles Hopkins, though he died three years later. An 18-year old widow and orphan, she soon met David Poe, Jr. in Virginia. He joined the acting troupe, despite his family's intentions for him to become a lawyer. Eliza and David married in 1806. As it turned out, he was a poor actor, and soon turned to drinking.

Nine months into marriage, the couple's first son was born in Boston. They named him William Henry Leonard Poe. Two years later, their second son was born in that same city (Eliza performed up until 10 days before his birth), on January 19, 1809. They named him Edgar Poe.

David Poe disappeared before Eliza's third child, a daughter named Rosalie, was born. Abandoned by her husband, Eliza did her best to support the small, struggling family. In 1811, however, while in Richmond, she began spitting blood. She performed for the last time on October 11 of that year. Shortly after, advertisements were printed about a benefit performance on Eliza's behalf.

Surrounded by her children, Eliza died (likely of tuberculosis) on December 8, 1811. Her three orphaned children were split up. She was buried in an unmarked grave at St. John's Episcopal Church in Richmond (the same church where Patrick Henry had once asked, "Give me liberty, or give me death!"). Years later, a memorial marker was placed there in her honor (seen at right).

The only likeness of Eliza Poe was a small, watercolor miniature that eventually came into the possession of Edgar, who likely remembered little of his mother. She also left him a watercolor painting of Boston Harbor. On the back, she asked Edgar to "always remember Boston," the city of his birth.

RIP, Eliza.

Maria Poe Clemm (1790-1871)

2009-02-16T08:39:00.006-05:00

Maria Poe was the sister of David Poe, Jr., father of Edgar Poe, making her, by blood, his aunt. When Poe married Maria's daughter Virginia Clemm, she became his mother-in-law by marriage — she also became his "mother" by choice. Poe, Virginia, and Maria were a very close and very loving three-part family from then on. She served, at times, as Poe's adviser, as a financial aid and, occasional, as a literary agent — all in small ways, of course. There is some debate out there that she was a worse influence on Poe than a help, but I'll leave that aside to tell her tragic story today.

Maria outlived two husbands, three children, and one son-in-law before her death on February 16, 1871. When Poe died in 1849, she didn't hear about it right away, and missed his funeral. She left the Fordham Cottage shortly after. She may have given (not sold) the rights to all of her son-in-law's works to a man named Rufus Griswold — a controversial move for many reasons. Besides rumors that Griswold tricked her into this, Griswold was a hated enemy of Poe's and, technically, Maria didn't have the right to sell anything because Poe's closest next of kin was his sister Rosalie Poe in Richmond. Nevertheless, Griswold promised Maria that she would benefit from the multi-volume editions of Poe's works he edited. Or, so he said.

In the 22 years after Poe's death, she struggled to survive. Her only income would have come from doing odd jobs like sewing, selling off autographs of her son-in-law — and, of course, sales from Griswold's collected works of Poe. She was promised that, after the publisher had enough profit to cover initial printing costs, all profit would go to Maria. Desperate, she turned to several people for monetary hand-outs, including Senator Charles Sumner, Harvard President Jared Sparks, poet James Russell Lowell, and, quite famously, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Maria's fourteen surviving letters to Longfellow are a chronicle of her struggles after Poe's death. In March 1850, She offered him a few volumes of Poe's collected works that the publisher had given her (at $2 apiece) and he willingly bought several, thinking she would get the money. She didn't. She was living in Lowell, Massachusetts at the time (the home of Nancy "Annie" Richmond, one of Poe's infatuations at the end of his life) and she requested Longfellow kindly to give her a few of his autographs for "friends" (she likely sold them).

By December 1852, Maria was living in Milford, Connecticut, having left Lowell due to poor health. She planned on heading further South, to family in Louisiana. By February 1857, she was in Brooklyn instead. Later that year, she reported she suffered from "inflammation of the lungs."

By October 1858, she was living with the Johnston family in Alexandria, Virginia. She noted that she was still waiting for the publishers to finish bringing in enough profit from their initial publication of Poe's collected works by Griswold. Eight years after its printing, the publisher most certainly had covered their costs; Maria would never see profit from Griswold's edition.

Maria Clemm never made it further South than Virginia and Maryland. Her plans to Louisiana came up just as the country was on the eve of Civil War, not making travel for an old lady advisable. For a time, she instead found herself in Muskingham, Ohio. She finally was put up in the Church Home in Baltimore by about 1863, if not earlier. It was essentially a nursing home but, years before, it had been a hospital — the same hospital were Edgar Poe died on October 7, 1849. Maria died, perhaps unknowingly, in the same building where her beloved son-in-law had died 22 years earlier. She was 81 years old, and penniless.

Till the end of her life, she defended Poe as best she could. To James Russell Lowell in 1850, she wrote: "He was noble, generous, affectionate, and most amiable (Dr. Griswold's assertion notwithstanding). Poor poor Eddie, it matters little to him now, but it almost breaks my heart to hear him spoken of so unkindly and untrue." We could ask today, did Griswold cause more harm to Poe, or to Mrs. Clemm?

Poe's only surviving letter to his wife

2009-06-12T18:26:00.015-04:00

There is only one surviving letter written by Poe to his wife Virginia. The letter begins:

"My Deart Heart, My dear Virginia! our Mother [e.g. Maria Clemm, Virginia's mother and Poe's aunt/mother-in-law] will explain to you why I stay away from you this night. I trust the interview I am promised,* will result in some substantial good for me, for your dear sake, and hers—Keep up your heart in all hopefulness, and trust yet a little longer."

He then assures here, "I shall be with you tomorrow P.M. and be assured until I see you, I will keep in loving remembrance your last words and your fervent prayer!"

Virginia at this time was very ill with tuberculosis. Emphasizing his dependence on the younger woman, Poe asks her to survive just a little longer. It is because of her, he notes, that he has been able to be strong after the recent failure of the Broadway Journal. "In my last great disappointment, I should have lost my courage but for you—my darling little wife you are my greatest and only stimulus now to battle with this uncongenial, unsatisfactory and ungrateful life." Certainly a heavy burden for a dying woman to bear!

The brief letter is signed "Your devoted Edgar." That devotion is clear. As Biographer Kenneth Silverman wrote, "Although he treated many others abrasively, falsely, or manipulatively, with Virginia he seems always to have been soft, concerned, nearly reverential."

But he could not count on her forever. Around this same time, a visitor already noted she was "almost a disrobed spirit, and when she coughed it was made certain that she was rapidly passing away." At the time Poe wrote this only extant letter to his wife, she was only six months away from death.

*Circumstances surrounding this letter are unclear; it is not even known where Poe was when he wrote to his wife. It's possible he was working on building subscriptions for The Stylus (an "interview" is not necessarily job-related at this time; it could refer to any scheduled interaction between people).

**The image of the letter is courtesy of the web site "Knowing Poe." The original is part of the collection of the University of Virginia.

Poe sues for libel

2009-07-23T07:53:00.005-04:00

Editor Hiram Fuller and his associates at the Evening Mirror had a bit of back and forth on Poe, accusing him of being "a poor creature... in a condition of sad, wretched imbecility" (July 20, 1846) as well as having a "habit of misrepresentation... and malignity is so much a part of his nature, that he continually goes out of his way to do ill-natured things" (July 23, 1846). Finally, Poe had enough. On July 23, 1846, he filed a lawsuit at the Superior Court of the City of New York against Hiram Fuller and his assistant Augustus W. Clason, Jr.

The Evening Mirror's continuous, unwarranted focus on Poe was one thing, but what likely really set him off was a writer named Thomas Dunn English. A provocateur all his own, English was known for satire and for getting on the wrong side of literary figures. He had a duel with Henry B. Hirst in Philadelphia and was kicked out of the office of John S. Du Solle of the Spirit of the Times, for just a couple examples.

Poe himself, of course, was not without fault. In a series of essays called The Literati of New York City (trashy celebrity gossip pieces, really, though more indicative of the period than of Poe personally) Poe referred to English as "a man without the commonest school education busying himself in attempts to instruct mankind in topics of literature" (certainly inappropriate, considering English had both a law degree and a medical degree). English responded with a vitriolic letter that he put into the hands of many, many publishers and editors.

English particularly latched onto the line that Poe's narrative persona wrote in The Literati of New York City: "I do not personally know Mr. English."

Of course the two knew one another. As English wrote in his reply, Poe tricked him into loaning him $30 to help the Broadway Journal in 1845. English also apparently gave Poe legal advice and set him up with a lawyer in June 1845 to defend charges of forgery (unsubstantiated). Most interestingly, English must have been surprised that Poe did not remember the fistfight the two fell into, thanks to the meddlesome Elizabeth F. Ellet. During that scuffle, English punched Poe directly in the face while wearing a large pinky ring. What appear to be bags under his eyes in Poe's later portraits is, in fact, the remnants of the scar. English concludes his letter with the characterization of Poe as a drunk who is "thoroughly unprincipled, base and depraved... not alone an assassin in morals, but a quack in literature."

The Mirror printed the reply, along with an introduction by Hiram Fuller himself in which he acknowledges its "severity" with "a twinge of pity." Other editors refer to English's reply as "most caustic and fearful," another notes it as "one of the most savage and bitter things we ever read," and one refers to English's "literary meat-axe" (in lieu of a tomahawk, perhaps?). Even Rufus Griswold, Poe's greatest enemy, noted English's attacks were in poor taste. Another publication expected Poe would "muster his intellectual forces, and give his adversary another battle."

Poe's response was relatively light, but his letter (published in a number of periodicals) does hint at legal action. He particularly blames Hiram Fuller for publishing it, noting he has "prostituted his filthy sheet to the circulation of this calumny." Fuller responds, "Let him institute a suit, if he dare." English responded as well, daring Poe take up a lawsuit.

He did. Poe hired Enoch L. Fancher as his counselor and, with his suggestion, sued the Mirror rather than go after English directly. Poe asked to be awarded damages of $5000 for two libelous remarks: that he obtained money under false pretenses and that he committed forgery. The suit was filed on July 23. The next day, the Mirror suddenly notes that "we do not hold ourselves responsible for Mr. English's charges against Mr. Poe," claiming English's letter was a paid advertisement (not true!). "But," Fuller writes, "if the latter gentleman chooses to take the matter into Court, we shall not shrink from the trial."

This post is long enough, I think. The results of Poe's libel suit, and English's continued provocations, will likely be continued at a later date.

A regular business man

2009-02-25T18:58:00.003-05:00

One of Edgar A. Poe's more enduring comedy stories, "The Business Man" was first published in the February 1840 issue of Burton's Gentleman's Magazine in Philadelphia. Poe, of course, wrote a substantial number of comedies and satires (and, really, started his prose career with them) but many have lost their humor after 150 years. "The Business Man," however, is still funny — especially in the context of today's economy!

Poe makes fun of the "typical" businessman (people like John Allan?) who profits through ruthlessness and questionable ethics. The businessman of the story, Peter Pendulum (later renamed to "Peter Proffit"), describes himself:

I am a business man. I am a methodical man. Method is the thing, after all. But there are no people I more heartily despise than our eccentric fools who prate about method without understanding it; attending strictly to its letter, and violating its spirit. These fellow are always doing the most out-of-the-way things in what they call an orderly manner. Now here, I conceive is a positive paradox. The true method appertains to the ordinary and the obvious alone, and cannot be applied to the outre.

Pendulum's "method" is simple: make money, no matter how. Presumably he never violates the spirit of being a businessman throughout his many business ventures. Through the course of the story, he has many careers. For one, he joins the "Eye-Sore" business: purposely building ugly homes and structures adjacent to beautiful new buildings, and asking for 500% of the value to tear it down. He also joins the "Assault-and-Battery" business by provoking people on the street into fights, then suing them for attacking him. He also becomes a "Mud-Dabbler" and asks people to pay him not to splash mud on them as they walk by. Later, he makes his money as a "Cat-Grower": raising cats and selling their tails ("tales"? Could this be an indictment of the businessmen in the publishing industry??).

"The Business Man" is still funny 169 years after its publication — if you don't mind the absolute ridiculousness of it, of course. But, to sum up, here is Poe's version of the great businessman, in the words of Pendulum:

If there is any thing on earth I hate, it is a genius. Your geniuses are all arrant asses—the greater the genius the greater the ass—and to this rule there is no exception whatever. Especially, you cannot make a man of business out of a genius... The creatures are always going off at a tangent into some fantastic employment, or ridiculous speculation, entirely at variance with the "fitness of things," and having no business whatever to be considered as a business at all. Thus you may tell these characters immediately by the nature of their occupations... Now I am not in any respect a genius, but a regular business man.

It's important to remember that Poe was a business owner for a while too, albeit years after this story was printed. Read more about The Broadway Journal in previous blog posts.

After Poe's death, his infamous literary executor Rufus W. Griswold collected his works into a multi-volume edition in 1850. Griswold excluded "The Business Man" from this collection, either because he didn't know about it, or because he considered all of Poe's comedies to be miserable failures. Griswold is at least partially responsible for burying Poe's humor works — and that influence remains to this day. Who out there thinks of Poe as a comic writer?

Perry made an artificer

2009-05-01T14:52:00.009-04:00

While stationed at Fort Moultrie in South Carolina, a soldier known as "Edgar A. Perry" was appointed an artificer on May 1, 1828. "Perry" was the assumed name of Edgar A. Poe, who had enlisted in the Army in Boston less than a year before. He changed his name likely to keep John Allan off his trail after splitting with the household shortly before. His new role as an artificer seems to have made him responsible for crafting bullets and other supplies. Typically, this role was held for people with prior experience with blaksmithing or carpentry. Poe was earning $10 a month for this role.

Rumors persist that Poe was a terrible soldier; this is quite untrue. Though Poe's time in the Army was relatively short (he would later pay another to finish out his enlistment), he did extremely well. Earlier in 1828, he was put in charge of his company's food supplies and endeared himself to the quartermaster. Being named as an artificer took less than 12 months and, within eight months after that, he was promoted to Sergeant Major — the highest grade a non-commissioned soldier could aspire to. He also served as a clerk and wrote lengthy monthly reports on the regiment. His rising through the ranks is, by all interpretations, extremely fast and suggests a hard-working soldier whose superiors liked him and in him saw much potential. One officer referred to him as "exemplary" and "highly worthy of confidence." In his short stint with the Army, Poe was stationed at Fort Independence in Boston, Fort Moultrie in South Carolina, and Fortress Monroe in Virginia.

For more on Poe's military pursuits, see an earlier post on Poe's Military Attempts (especially his time at West Point Military Academy). Or, better yet, seek out the book by the late William J. Hecker, Private Perry and Mister Poe.

John Allan's will, part 2

2009-05-08T09:24:00.004-04:00

When John Allan died on March 27, 1834, the Richmond Enquirer referred to him as "one of the worthiest citizens of Richmond... — and none was better known, none more highly respected — distinguished for his humanity, his hospitality, his attachment to his friends, his devotion to his family."

At the Circuit Superior Court of Law and Chancery for Henrico County, located within the Capitol in Richmond, John Allan's will was probated on May 8, 1834. Allan had struggled with his will for years — perhaps admirably. Despite two marriages, he had an affair on the side which produced at least two children (twins, in fact). The hard decision for him was whether to provide for them or not (he had likely given them at least some money throughout is life). In the final version of his will, Allan left money to the family of his first wife ("three hundred dollars annually" to his sister-in-law Ann Moore Valentine throughout "her natural life") and for "his fault" (his euphemism for his illegitimate children with Elizabeth Wills) he offered one-fifth of his estate or $4000 each when they reached 21 years old.

Though Allan claimed that his second wife (now widow) Louisa Patterson Allan knew all about his illegitimate children, she did not seem pleased with the now public admission of Allan's "fault." She renounced all her rights under the will and instead chose to take her share under the intestate law — meaning that she asked the court to pretend a will never existed. Concerned for Allan's three legitimate children with her, Louisa seems to have ensured that his illegitimate children earned nothing at all. I have not been able to determine how much of this information got to the public, if Allan suffered any posthumous social vilification, etc.

Allan's foster-son, Edgar Poe, of course, was left nothing in this will, or through intestate law. Some biographers have speculated that Louisa Allan's animosity towards her husband's old life prevented his concern for Poe. However, Allan's disinterest in Poe started much earlier. Allan for years had perceived an ingratitude from Poe — whether or not this is true is irrelevant because the perception alone was enough.

The mystery of David Poe, Jr.

2009-12-11T09:16:00.004-05:00

Having already dedicated a post to Poe's mother, it is only fitting to follow it up with one about his father. Perhaps appropriate to the inventor of the modern detective story, however, Edgar Poe's father is a bit of a mystery.

David Poe, Jr. was born in Baltimore in 1784. His father, the original David Poe, was known for his patriotic self-sacrifice during the American Revolution. He was such a strong patriot, in fact, friends called him "General," despite not having such a title. One of those friends was the Marquis de La Fayette (who young Edgar Poe met years later).

David Poe, Jr.'s family was not well-off and they expected him to become a lawyer. He began studying law but, at the age of 22, was in Norfolk, Virginia, when he first laid eyes on the young widow Eliza Arnold Hopkins. Whether he was smitten by her or her acting performance is uncertain, but David decided to become an actor himself, to the dismay of his family. Eliza's first husband, Charles Hopkins, had been dead only six months when she and David married in 1806. Nine months later, their first son (William Henry Leonard Poe) was born. Two years later came baby Edgar. The parents weren't able to take care of their children and relied on David's Baltimore family to take care of them while they traveled and performed.

In fact, David did not excel as an actor. Over six years, he played 137 roles, 19 of them in Shakespeare works. Despite his attractive face, he just couldn't act. One critic noticed Mr. and Mrs. Poe: "the lady was young and pretty, and evinced both talent both as a singer and actress; the gentleman was literally nothing." Another wrote, "This man was never destined for the high walks of the drama; — a footman is the extent of what he ought to attempt." Puns on "Poe" and "p'oh" or "poo" were abundant.

The hard-tempered and sensitive David may have, in fact, suffered from stage fright. He turned to drinking. When Edgar was born, he realized his family was in a financial crisis. Rather than ask his famous father for help, he turned to a cousin in Stockertown, Pennsylvania named George Poe. Arriving at night unannounced, he was asked to come back the next day. Instead, he wrote a note — the only surviving letter from Edgar Poe's father — begging for money, with an all-to-insistent promise to pay him back. Edgar would write several similar notes.

David Poe appeared on stage in October 1809 — apparently his last. By July 1811, David had abandoned his family, quite literally disappearing off the map. It may have been due to his drinking, his lackluster performances, his jealousy of his wife, his frustration over his financial woes, or maybe he was dismissed from the troupe for his bad behavior and attitude (and bad acting skills). Or, perhaps, if we believe rumors suggested by both John Allan and Elizabeth Ellet, he left when his wife became pregnant with a third child — one which was not his.

David Poe, Jr. may have died on December 11, 1811* — three days after Eliza's death — in Norfolk, Virginia — the same town where he met his wife. Poe may or may not have known the circumstances. Known for making up his own autobiographical details, he did once acknowledge that his father outlived his mother, but by "a few weeks." David's burial place is unknown, and no image of him is known to exist.

*This date seems to have come from Susan Archer Talley Weiss, a minor poetess from Richmond who claimed to have known Poe intimately. Her claims should always be considered questionable. Nevertheless, I've seen this date listed in two other Poe sources. Go figure.

Terror is of the soul

2009-12-04T09:28:00.004-05:00

Poe's collection of short stories Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque was issued circa December 4, 1839. His publishers Lea & Blanchard limited its production run, despite protest from the author. It was his first collection of prose, though he had previously published a novel and, well, a controversial textbook on seashells in addition to a couple books of poetry.

Poe's early works were somewhat sensational and he was occasionally criticized for "Germanic" stories, what we might call Gothic romance today. In Poe's introduction to the book, he responds to those accusations with the now-famous line, "I maintain that terror is not of Germany, but of the soul." In fact, I believe that's exactly what Poe was doing throughout his career: mirroring the general thoughts and feelings of his reading audience (okay, except for that seashell thing).

Burton's Gentleman's Magazine announced the book's publication, noting that its title "pretty well indicates their [stories'] character." In case you're like me, you might need more help on the terms "Grotesque" and "Arabesque." They are architectural terms, after all, and not often used in literary discussions today. Poe, however, might have been inspired by fellow writer Sir Walter Scott, who used the terms in his essay "On the Supernatural in Fictitious Composition."

Both terms refer to a type of complex Islamic art style used in walls and carpets, especially in mosques. Poe used "arabesque" in this way in his essay on "The Philosophy of Furniture" (what? You haven't read Poe's tips on interior design?). In the case of this book, however, Poe may have been trying to create categories within Gothic fiction much like the categories within architecture.

Some scholars define the "grotesque" stories as those where the character becomes a caricature or satire, as in "The Man That Was Used Up," a story which questions the nature of a war hero (likely modeled on General Winfield Scott). The "arabesque" stories are often psychological as in "The Fall of the House of Usher." Other scholars say "grotesque" means blood and gore, while "arabesque" means terror on a metaphysical level. Ultimately, there is no way to accurately define Poe's intentions for these terms, and scholars who attempt a laundry list of "grotesques" and "arabesques" often end up with different results.

*The picture is an arabesque-style tile from the Wazir Khan Mosque in Lahore, Pakistan, circa late 18th century.

Poe and the Polish?

2009-03-10T09:54:00.008-04:00

After Poe was dismissed from West Point Academy, he was sort of unsure where to go next. By this point, he was not interested in returning to John Allan and was hoping to make his own fortune. Despite giving up on the Army and purposely getting kicked out of West Point, Poe still toyed with the idea of military success. On March 10, 1831, Poe wrote to Colonel Sylvanus Thayer, Superintendent of West Point, from New York: "I intend by the first opportunity to proceed to Paris with the view of obtaining , thro' the interest of the Marquis de La Fayette, an appointment (if possible) in the Polish Army." In his letter, Poe asked Thayer to attest to his good standing at the Academy or to contact any friends in Paris who could help him out. Poe claimed at this point to have "no longer any ties which can bind me to my native country -- no projects -- nor any friends."

There are so many stories to recount here!

For one, there is no sincere evidence that Poe ever went to Poland, though he did make occasional claims. Some fringe theorists in the studies of Poe claim it is absolutely true and, from his stint with the Polish Army, he became an international spy (some say he was partnered with Washington Irving) and his death 18 years later in 1849 was due to a government conspiracy. Think what you will.

What's more interesting to me is the connection to La Fayette. What made Poe think that this great American Revolutionary hero would give him the time of day?

The Marquis was in Richmond in October 1824 and a young Edgar Poe (age 15) was part of a volunteer company of Richmond boys known as the Junior Morgan Riflemen. It was this organization that rode in the procession for the celebrated La Fayette that led him to his hotel. Edgar, in uniform, was presented to La Fayette himself for inspection.

Two weeks earlier, in Baltimore, the Marquis asked about an old Baltimore friend. "I have not seen among these my friendly and patriotic commissary, Mr. David Poe, who resided in Baltimore when I was here." David Poe, Edgar's grandfather, was dead by this point, and La Fayette demanded he be shown the grave. There, he said, Ici repose un coeur noble ("Here rests a noble heart"). La Fayette did not ask about any others during that trip to Baltimore. Of all the people in that city, why would the great La Fayette single out David Poe?

During the American Revolution, from 1778-1779, David Poe was part of Captain John McClellan's Company of Baltimore troops. Appointed Assistant Deputy Quartermaster, he was authorized to purchase supplies for the colonial army. Seeing a need, David Poe used $40,000 of his own money to supply troops with items like boots. His self-sacrifice earned him a nickname, from the Marquis and others: "General Poe."

Edgar A. Poe often looked back with fondness that his grandfather had played a role in the Revolution. To some degree, his interest in joining the Army, attending West Point, and enlisting for the Polish cause may have been attempts at his own similar military glory.

To My Mother

2009-07-07T07:54:00.009-04:00

Somewhat lacking in deep literary merit yet undoubtedly sentimental, the poem "To My Mother" needs very little commentary to understand. Despite its title, the emotional, very personal poem (perhaps Poe's most personal) is not about the poet's birth mother Eliza Arnold Poe, nor is it about the woman who raised him, foster-mother Frances Allan. Instead, it is about the mother of his dead wife.

Though Poe's wife Virginia had died in 1847, Poe continued living with and supporting her mother, Maria Poe Clemm (who was also his aunt, sister of his father). He wrote a sonnet to his mother-in-law, who he nicknamed "Muddy" (presumably because of its similarity to "mother"), which was published on July 7, 1849 in the Flag of Our Union newspaper. In its entirety:

To My Mother

Because I feel that, in the heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of 'mother' —
Therefore by that sweet name I long have called you —
You, who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother — my own mother — who died early —
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew;
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

Perhaps ironically, this same date, July 7, in 1835 marked the death of Poe's grandmother, Elizabeth Cairnes Poe. The wife of David Poe Sr. (a veteran of the American Revolution who was friends with General La Fayette), she was 79 years old when she died. Her daughter, Maria Clemm (the subject of the poem above), was taking care of her at the time as well as utilizing the pension the widow Poe was receiving for her husband's Revolutionary service — this pension was the small family's main means of financial support. Poe had lived with her in Baltimore for a time.

The Boston Lyceum incident, cont'd

2009-11-01T10:28:00.001-05:00

In October 1845, Poe made his triumphant return to Boston, the city of his birth, but that return was marred by what Poe termed a hoax. For his appearance at the Boston Lyceum, he was asked to present a new, original poem. Instead he presented "Al Aaaraf," one of his earliest poems, under the temporary title "The Messenger Star."

After the reading, Poe was invited to dinner with a gathering of Boston literati. "Over a bottle of champagne," he later wrote, he revealed to his fellow diners (including fellow speaker Caleb Cushing, critic Edwin Percy Whipple and publisher James T. Fields) that he had, in fact, read a "juvenile poem."

Poe was immediately attacked for his strange choice in Boston, particularly by Miss Cornelia Wells Walter (pictured), editor of Boston's Evening Transcript. She wrote: "A poem delivered before a literary association of adults, as written by a boy! Only think of it! Poh! Poh!" This was only one of many accounts "Miss Walter" presented as she continuously attacked Poe, often with terrible puns. When Poe wrote in the Broadway Journal his account of the evening and his promise to return fire at the Boston press, she responded in the Evening Transcript: "The promise... is certainly very poe-tential. We thought the poet might possibly be poe-dagrical, but it seems he is intending to take time enough to become a poe-ser!"

One attendant of the Lyceum, Newburyport's William W. Caldwell, happily wrote to Poe about subscribing to his journal and praising "The Messenger Star" poem, despite "the silly abuse of the Boston Press."

Finally, on November 1, 1845, gives a substantial response to Miss Walter and others in Boston. "The adorable creature has been telling a parcel of fibs about us," he wrote, "by way of revenge for something that we did to Mr. Longfellow (who admires her very much) and for calling her 'a pretty little witch.'" He tells his version of the Lyceum incident, painting it as a success. According to Poe, he was "most cordially received" by his Boston audience and his reading was interrupted with several bursts of applause.

Birth of Mark Twain

2009-11-30T11:10:00.003-05:00

What a curious thing a "detective" story is. And was there ever one that the author needn't be ashamed of, except the "Murders in the Rue Morgue"?

So says Mark Twain (the pen name of Samuel L. Clemens). Twain was born on November 30, 1835. He never knew Poe (he was 13 when Poe died) but both writers were pursuing a national identity in American literature. Twain, however, thought Poe had failed miserably (he thought so about many authors). A day before Poe's centennial in 1909, he wrote to William Dean Howells and told his fellow novelist his opinion of the master of the macabre: "To me his prose is unreadable—like Jane Austen's. No, there is a difference. I could read his prose on salary, but not Jane's."

It's unclear what kind of salary Twain got for reading Poe or for writing an obscure short story called "The Facts Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut." Scholar Robert Comeau identified this story by Twain as borrowing themes from Poe's "William Wilson," a character from "Hop-Frog," and a device from "The Raven."

Poet-turned-Poeist Daniel Hoffman wrote: "In Poe's own country the only thing like 'William Wilson' is by that other demon-haunted genius, Mark Twain. But where Poe's tale is taut with demonic intensity, there is a wonderful hilarity in 'The Facts Concerning A [sic] Recent Carnival of Crime In Connecticut.'" In the story, a character is tortured by his Calvinist conscience, but outwits his tormentor (e.g. his conscience) by murdering him. Suddenly conscience-free, the character goes on murdering, cheating, and generally indulging in mischief.

For a time, the character's conscience is perched on a bookshelf. According to Comeau, this serves as the same symbolism as the bust of Pallas in Poe's "The Raven."

Happy birthday, Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain.

Or Broadway Something...

2009-12-07T08:32:00.002-05:00

Charles Frederick Briggs was mostly known as a writer of satiric novels, particularly the then-famous The Adventures of Harry Franco. To his dismay, his title character also became his nickname (much like Poe was later referred to as "The Raven"). Wanting to do more, Briggs intended to start his own journal. He was struggling, however, with choosing a name.

On December 7, 1844, Briggs wrote his friend,* the literary critic James Russell Lowell: "I shall issue a prospectus in a day or two; the name will be, for the sake of individuality... the Broadway Journal, or Review, or Chronicle, or Broadway Something..."

Briggs wanted to emphasize the distinct New York flavor to his journal. Most periodicals were regional, after all (even Poe original aimed for Pennsylvanian readers when planning The Penn; he later renamed it The Stylus to appeal to a broader audience). The one which Briggs was planning would become The Broadway Journal with the help of his business-minded partner John Bisco.

In the same letter to Lowell, he asks about getting in touch with Poe. Poe came in as a co-editor and business partner. The venture, however, never turned a substantial profit and Bisco eventually bailed out. Oddly enough, Briggs had difficulty working with Poe, in part due to the vitriolic style of criticism which first drew him towards hiring Poe. He soon sold his portion of the business to Poe to break the partnership. By the fall of 1845, The Broadway Journal was solely under the control and ownership of Edgar Poe — it was the only journal and the only business Poe ever owned.

During his tenure there, Poe tweaked and republished a substantial portion of his major works; many of the versions featured in The Broadway Journal became the standard editions. He continued reviewing other writers, noticed newly-published works, updated his readers on local politics, and gave his theories on good literature.

Despite his best intentions (and even a vow to his friend Thomas Holley Chivers to "make a fortune of it yet"), Poe did not succeed in bringing the struggling journal to success. Its final issue was in January 1846. Nevertheless, the experience pushed him closer to producing The Stylus. Despite working in earnest, his plans never came to fruition.

*More work could be done considering their friendship. Lowell turned over all profits from his famous A Fable for Critics directly to Briggs. Certainly, some of the animosity Lowell will begin to feel towards Poe during the "Longfellow War" comes from Briggs's trash-talking, so to speak.

Poe vs. The Crazyites

2009-12-06T10:34:00.010-05:00

Poe was already a household name when The Raven and Other Poems was published in 1845, mostly due to the title poem in that collection. On December 6, 1845, one very different periodical reviewed the book.

The Harbinger was the official publication of the experimental community at Brook Farm at West Roxbury, Massachusetts. Formed in 1841 by George Ripley and his wife Sophia, the working farm meant to put in practice the ideals of Transcendentalism. Every community member did their fair share of the work, but buy-in required a part-ownership of their joint-stock company. One of the founders, Nathaniel Hawthorne, left early on and asked for his money back. The Farm was dissolved about five years after its founding.

With their high ideals for perfect living, the Brook Farmers anticipated plenty of time to explore the Arts, culture, and other intellectual pursuits. The Harbinger was the outlet to show off their success. Critic John Sullivan Dwight reviewed The Raven and Other Poems in the December 6, 1845 issue. "Mr. Poe has earned some fame by various tales and poems, which of late has become notoriety through a certain blackguard warfare which he has been waging against the poets and newspaper critics of New England, and which it would be most charitable to impute to insanity." Ouch.

More to the point, he wrote: "We must confess that they [e.g. the poems] have a great deal of power, a great deal of beauty... originality, and dramatic effect. But they have more of effect, than of expression... There is a wild unearthliness, and unheavenliness, in the tone of all his pictures, a strange unreality in all his thoughts; they seem to stand shivering, begging admission to our hearts in vain, because they look not as if they came from the heart."

A few days later, December 13, Poe gave his opinions of The Harbinger in the magazine he owned, the Broadway Journal. He notes that he "sincerely respect[s]" the publication as "the most reputable organ of the Crazyites" (i.e. the Transcendentalists?). He dismisses them by noting the group is "conducted by an assemblage of well-read persons who mean no harm — and who, perhaps, can do less." Harmless as they are, Poe then dissects Dwight's review and ridicules his poor grammar. He concludes, "it shocks us to hear a set of respectable Crazyites talking in so disingenuous a manner." In the future, he hopes, they "will never have any opinion of us at all."

*Images: Brook Farm by Josiah Wolcott; its idealism is emphasized by the rainbow. From the collection of the Massachusetts Historical Society. The other image is the front page of a November 1846 issue of The Harbinger; it continued publishing from New York for about a year after Brook Farm dissolved.

Hawthorne, Poe, Brook Farm, and Ripley

2009-07-04T18:59:00.010-04:00

Happy birthday to Nathaniel Hawthorne, who was born July 4, 1804. Poe and Hawthorne, I believe, were cut from the same chunk of marble. Both focused on perfecting the tale (until Hawthorne defected to novels) and attempted to make it big in the magazine industry (more or less). Both struggled financially for most of their lives (Hawthorne didn't buy a house until after Poe's death), and both were deeply in love with their wives.

Where they differed, however, was in the purpose of their writing. Though both presented the dark side of human nature — guilt, sin, evil — Hawthorne tried to teach lessons, something Poe called "the Heresy of The Didactic." Poe believed any piece of writing was a work of Art and need not be sullied by something like a moral message. Nevertheless, Poe encouraged Hawthorne early in his writing career. In his review of Twice-Told Tales, Poe writes of Hawthorne: "The style of Mr. Hawthorne is purity itself. His tone is singularly effective — wild, plaintive, thoughtful, and in full accordance with his themes... Upon the whole we look upon him as one of the few men of indisputable genius to whom our country has as yet given birth."

Poe would later soften his praise when Mosses from an Old Manse was published. Moving to the Old Manse in Concord, Massachusetts, connected Hawthorne with Ralph Waldo Emerson, and the Transcendentalists. Poe did not approve — though, in reality, neither did Hawthorne. He had grown weary with the movement fairly early after being a founding member of the Transcendental community at Brook Farm. Hawthorne quickly saw their idealism and optimism were misplaced. He quit and later sued to have his initial investment returned.

Coincidentally, today is the anniversary of the death of George Ripley, the Transcendental minister-turned-critic who founded Brook Farm. By his death in 1880, his attempts at creating a Utopia were pretty much forgotten. While the experiment was in full bloom, Poe at one point noted his "sincere respect" for Brook Farmers but noted that they "meant no harm." Really, Poe's was belittling them and noting that, at worst, they couldn't do much harm anyway.

Happy birthday to Hawthorne, and RIP to Ripley. As an aside, I just realized that this is my 100th post.

Grotesque and Arabesque

2009-11-20T08:50:00.003-05:00

Perhaps in ironic contrast to yesterday's post, publishers Lea and Blanchard wrote to Poe on November 20, 1839, declining to print more copies of a book of his writings.

The publishing history of Poe's prose collection Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque was a horror story unto itself. The collection was two volumes, packaging a hefty 25 stories (including "The Fall of the House of Usher," "The Man That Was Used Up," "Ligeia," and "William Wilson" in volume one; "Berenice," "Metzengerstein," "Von Jung," and "The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall" in volume two). The Philadelphia-based publishers originally offered a production run of 1750 copies. However, still reeling from the Bank Panic of 1837, the struggling economy forced them to cut back to 750 copies. It was released in the first week of December 1839, though it carried an 1840 copyright notice.

They offered to take all financial risk. This is substantial; Poe had to pay out of his own pocket for the publication of his first book, Tamerlane and Other Poems. Having little money, he was limited to only about 50 copies. The book went virtually unnoticed. Typically, publishing in this period required authors personally to purchase any and all unsold copies after a certain time period. Lea & Blanchard were sure to point out their kindness, and their regret for such kindness. In their letter, they noted: "When we undertook their publication, it was solely to oblige you and not with any view to profit." In fact, they noted their concern about recovering their initial investment, and kindly noted Poe should consider contributing "to relieve us from the publication at cost, or even a small abatement."

Poe hoped he could persuade his publishers to eke out a few extra copies. After all, no less a literary luminary than Washington Irving had offered his endorsement of Poe's prose. Reviews noted the book showed "a power of vivid description, an opulence of imagination, a fecundity of invention, and a command over the elegances of diction which have seldom been displayed."

However, the response from Lea & Blanchard in their November 20 letter was straightforward. Hypothetically considering if they were to do it all over again, the publishers noted: "If the offer was now before us we should certainly decline it."

The fatal resemblance

2009-12-03T08:32:00.003-05:00

On December 3, 1844, the Paris, France-based newspaper La Quotidienne began publishing installments of "James Dixon, ou la funeste resemblance" (which translates to "James Dixon, or the fatal resemblance"). Though it included a byline of Gustave Brunet, the story was, in fact, an adaptation of Poe's doppelganger story "William Wilson." This was two years before Charles Beaudelaire began his translations of Poe. The same Paris newspaper would soon publish a controversial translation of "The Murders in the Rue Morgue."

As I've noted elsewhere, French readers have long been devoted followers of Poe. I would say that their appreciation for Poe could never be overstated. An entire book has been written about it, so I could never do it justice here. But, to get an idea, besides the admiration of Charles Baudelaire, Poe is credited as the main inspiration for the Symbolist poetry movement that took hold in France, particularly the work of Stephane Mallarmé. This "James Dixon" is the first known translation of Poe's work into French so, in a sense, this one started it all.

More than that, however, the publication of "James Dixon, ou la funeste resemblance" is the first known version of the work of Poe in any language other than English. Even during his lifetime, Poe was becoming a figure of world literature. Some foreigners find it ironic (or, in the case of Baudelaire, unconscionable) that Poe earned greater respect outside of his native country. I would argue that he has come to be much better appreciated here in the United States since then, but that most Americans make their assessment of him based on a very narrow selection of his works. Many readers in countries like France, Spain, England, the Czech Republic, Russia, and scores of others in Europe and South America in particular do not consider Poe a horror writer. They embrace the full span of his various works, including science fiction, comedy, and romantic poetry. I've been particularly surprised to see how much non-American readers have come to love strange works like Eureka and The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket.

I have two questions: If you are an American, when do you think we will come to know Poe beyond his horror works? If you are from elsewhere, what has been your experience with Poe?