I was not his friend, nor he mine

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.

Birth of William Cullen Bryant

Born on November 3, 1794, William Cullen Bryant became one of the most well-known poets of his generation. His earliest poems, including "Thanatopsis" and "To a Waterfowl" remain his most enduring works. Like Poe, Bryant took full-time jobs with the press to make ends meet. His longest run was with the Saturday Evening Post; his affiliation with that publication lasted 50 years.

Poe first reviewed Bryant's work for the Southern Literary Messenger in 1837. Shortly after, Poe attended the Booksellers Dinner in New York's City Hotel. The guest list that day included not only Bryant but also Charles Fenno Hoffman, Washington Irving, Fitz-Greene Halleck, James Kirke Paulding, George Pope Morris, and Lewis Gaylord Clark. Poe proposed a toast to "The Monthlies of Gotham" and their editors.

Years later, in 1841, Bryant was one of the many "heavy-hitters" that Poe solicited for contributions upon taking the editorial reins at Graham's Magazine. A year later, Bryant was one of the top five poets Rufus Griswold used in his frontispiece to better sell The Poets and Poetry of America (in his review, Poe noted that Bryant deserved more attention and representation in the book itself). Bryant's son-in-law Parke Godwin later recalled that Bryant and Poe met face to face in 1845 and "Poe approached him as some Grecian youth might be imagined to approach an image of Plato — with a look and attitude full of the profoundest reverence." This account is almost certainly exaggerated, considering Poe had already corresponded with Bryant — not to mention they probably already met at the Booksellers Dinner eight years earlier.

Poe admitted that Bryant was one of America's most important writers, but noted that his popularity was due to his narrow, "safe" topics which were designed to be accessible to a broad audience. "It will never do to claim for Bryant a genius of the loftiest order," Poe wrote. Referring to Bryant's poem "June," Poe notes "the rhythmical flow, here, is even voluptuous — nothing could be more melodious... The impression left is one of a pleasurable sadness."

As a side note, Bryant was also an active proponent of copyright protection for authors and even founded the Copyright Club.

Happy birthday, William Cullen Bryant.

Poe and politics

Frederick William Thomas came to visit Poe at his house (then on Coates Street in Philadelphia) on September 17, 1842. Years later, he described Poe's home life in the so-called Quaker City:

He lived in a rural home on the outskirts of the city. His house was small, but comfortable inside for one of the kind. The rooms looked neat and orderly, but everything about the place wore an air of pecuniary want. Although I arrived late in the morning Mrs. Clemm, Poe's mother-in-law, was busy preparing for his breakfast. My presence possibly caused some confusion, but I noticed that there was delay and evident difficulty in procuring the meal. His wife entertained me. Her manners were agreeable and graceful... She and her mother showed much concern about Eddie, as they called Poe, and were anxious to have him secure work.

Thomas was a writer himself and, throughout his 60 years, lived in Providence, Charleston, Baltimore, Cincinnati — though it was in Philadelphia that he met Edgar Poe. Thomas maintained a long, frequent correspondence with Poe, three years his junior; letters between the two are very frank, honest, and interesting. Thomas also got his hands dirty in politics and campaigned on behalf of William Henry Harrison, who died shortly after his presidential inauguration. Harrison's successor, the "accidental president" John Tyler, compensated Thomas for his support by granting him a clerkship at the Treasury Department in Washington, D.C.

Thomas hoped his connection with the new president would lead to a job for his friend Poe. Their September 1842 meeting was to discuss this possibility. Robert Tyler, son of the new president, was in town and would likely show his support for granting Poe a government job, Thomas believed. But, Poe knew his preferred path: even as Thomas chatted with Poe about obtaining a government post, Poe chatted about creating his own literary journal. Nevertheless, the struggling writer/critic was somewhat intrigued by government work, which he had heard was easy money. Thomas implied the job was all but his already; Robert Tyler was "remarkably fond of poetry." He agreed to meet Thomas the next morning.

Thomas likely didn't hear from Poe for several days. A letter from Poe dated September 21, 1842 excuses his absence:

I am afraid you will think that I keep my promises but indifferently well, since I failed to make my appearance at Congress Hall on Sunday, and I now, therefore, write to apologize... Upon reaching home Saturday night, I was taken with a severe chill and fever — the latter keeping me company the next day. I found myself too ill to venture out, but, nevertheless, would have done so had I been able to obtain the consent of all parties.

Poe blamed both illness and his wife for not allowing him to meet with Tyler, the president's son. Was he really sick? Was his wife concerned about his health? Or, as biographer Kenneth Silverman concludes, was he just nursing a hangover after a night's drinking? When Poe realized he had missed a good opportunity (apparently, the job promised an annual salary of $1,500 — nearly double what he was making at Graham's Magazine), he wrote he still wanted to pursue the job, "if he [Tyler] can look over matters & get me the Inspectorship I will join the Washingtonians" — a temperance group (years later, Poe did, in fact, join a temperance organization).

Birth of James Fenimore Cooper

Novelist James Fenimore Cooper was born September 15, 1789.* By rights, he should be considered among the first man of letters in the United States, alongside Washington Irving, Charles Brockden Brown and others. Of course, few of these names are recognized today and, when they are, they're not always considered major players. Irving may still be read but many literary scholars show disdain for his work as being too silly or comical. Cooper is largely forgotten, despite his immense popularity in his lifetime for works like The Last of the Mohicans — which wasn't on the curriculum when I was in school (or in college, for that matter).

Poe solicited contributions from Cooper while the former was working for the Southern Literary Messenger. Even though Poe recognized Cooper's draw, he questioned his legitimacy as a writer (his request for contributions noted they were seeking Cooper's "name" to give the magazine weight). One review from Poe, published in 1840, attacked Cooper's characterization. "We did not look for character in it, for that is not Cooper's forte; nor did we expect that his heroine would be aught better than the inanimate thing she is." Of course, Cooper's depiction of female characters is still the subject of criticism today.

In a review in Graham's Magazine (November 1843) titled "Wyandotté, or The Hutted Knoll. A Tale, By the Author of 'The Pathfinder,' 'Deerslayer,' 'Last of the Mohicans,' 'Pioneers,' 'Prairie,' &c., &c.," Poe noted that Cooper's latest production was "precisely similar to the novels enumerated in the title" (a complaint which is still issued today). Interest in these works, Poe argues, is based on "first the nature of the theme; secondly, upon a Robinson Crusoe-like detail in its management; and thirdly, upon the frequently repeated portraiture of the half-civilized Indian." Having summarized the model for all of Cooper's works, Poe concludes: "It will be at once seen that there is nothing original in this story... It is even excessively commonplace."

Poe satirized Cooper in a short story called "The Literary Life of Thingum Bob, Esq." The briefly mentioned character Mr. Fatquack is considered a genius for his writing but his novel, Dish-Clout, only earns him a whopping 62 (and a half) cents. In a review of another writer, Poe notes the emergence of "native writers": "It is not because we have no Mr. Coopers but because it has been demonstrated that we might, at any moment, have as many Mr. Coopers as we please." Was Poe right? Was Cooper just another dime-a-dozen American prose writer who got more praise than he deserved? Is Cooper's falling reputation evidence of this? I'd love to hear thoughts on this.

*Incidentally, he died one day short of his 62nd birthday on September 14, 1851. Rufus Griswold was one of the many figures who organized a memorial to him in New York.

I don't care who the devil he is

My last post was about one of Poe's most famous horror stories published in September. To balance it out, I have to write about one of my absolute favorite Poe works. "Never Bet the Devil Your Head" was first published in the September 1841 issue of Graham's Magazine. The story is a comedy, and possibly one of Poe's most successful in that genre.

The narrator/author responds to critics who note that he has never written a moral tale (Poe, after all, despised didacticism). So, the narrator tells the story of Toby Dammit, a man of many vices prone to rhetorical bets introduced with the idiomatic, "I'll bet the devil my head..." One day, he and his companion come across a covered bridge with a turnstile in the middle. Dammit, looking for some fun, bets the devil his head that he can jump clear over that turnstile.

He insisted upon leaping the stile, and said he could cut a pigeon-wing over it in the air. Now this, conscientiously speaking, I did not think he could do... I therefore told him, in so many words, that he was a braggadocio, and could not do what he said. For this I had reason to be sorry afterward;—for he straightway offered to bet the Devil his head that he could.

Right on cue, a mysterious stranger arrests their attention when he clears his throat. He decides to take Dammit up on his bet — to the dismay of the narrator, who notes, "I don't care who the devil he is." Misgivings of his friend aside, Dammit gracefully jumps over the turnstile — though as he reaches the apex of his leap, things change: his body makes it over, but his head does not ("what might be claimed a serious injury," the narrator notes). The mysterious gentleman claims the head and walks off. It turns out that, directly above the turnstile, was a thin, razor-sharp metal bar. The moral of the story? "Never bet the devil your head."

Besides the ironic humor, and the clear criticism of moral tales, "Never Bet the Devil Your Head" is also a satire on Transcendentalism. As Dammit approaches the bridge, his friend notes he is in an unusually happy mood and may, in fact, "be affected with the transcendentals," a disease.

After losing his head, the narrator notes "he did not long survive his terrible loss." After his death, the narrator sends a bill to the Transcendentalists but "the scoundrels refused to pay it." Instead, Toby Dammit's body was ground into dog's meat — perhaps a fitting fate for one who was afflicted with the disease of the transcendentals.

I think Poe here was responding to the Transcendental idea of communing directly with God or "the over-soul." If one can communicate with God, why can't he also communicate with the Devil? The result, of course, is disastrous (and hilarious). As a "moral tale," the story satirizes not only the Transcendentalists and their writings but also of popular writing in general. Poe, of course, called didacticism in literature a "heresy" which detracted from the inherent art of writing. But feel free to forget that stuff. Ultimately, "Never Bet the Devil Your Head" is simply a funny story — and very much worth reading. I've got one more post on my favorite of Poe's September stories coming soon.

For more on Poe's battles with Transcendentalism, mark your calendar for October 31. I'll be presenting a talk called "Poe vs. Transcendentalism" — in Concord, Massachusetts, of course.

In memoriam: James Russell Lowell

I have written about James Russell Lowell many times on this blog. He weaves in and out of the story of Poe so much, it's hard to separate the two. It's even harder, however, to distinctly categorize their relationship.

The December 1841 issue of Graham's Magazine printed Poe's first acknowledgment of Lowell, ten years his junior. In this edition of Poe's "Chapter on Autography," he wrote: "Mr. J. R. LOWELL, of Massachusetts, is entitled, in our opinion, to at least the second or third place among the poets of America. We say this on account of the vigor of his imagination — a faculty to be first considered in all criticism upon poetry." We know that Lowell was aware of the quick mention (though, for the series, Lowell's was a long entry) because he was given a heads-up by Charles J. Peterson in late October 1841.

When Poe read Lowell's "Rosaline" early the next year, Peterson reported that Poe was pleased and said "that no American poem equals it in the higher elements of song" and noted "Poe wishes to be remembered to you." In fact, it seems that it was through Peterson that Poe and Lowell first interacted — and for quite some time. In a letter dated February 17, 1842, Peterson notes "Poe laughed heartily when I told him you thought that he had a pique against Wakondah & its author" (e.g. Cornelius Mathews). And, in the same letter, "Poe sends his respects & says that he never allows personal love or hate to warp his criticisms." Why didn't the two just write directly to each other?

In fact, it seems the earliest extant direct correspondence is not until November 16, 1842, when Poe writes to Lowell offering to contribute to his new magazine, Pioneer ("The Tell-Tale Heart" will debut in its third issue). Poe praised the journal when it came out, noting it was edited "by a man whose genius and originality is at once the praise and wonder of his countrymen." Lowell later helped Poe correspond with Nathaniel Hawthorne, who Lowell convinced to be a contributor to the magazine Poe was founding, The Stylus.

Though they were cordial during this period and, in some cases, they praised one another, it's hard to call Poe and Lowell "friends." Certainly, by the mid 1840s, it would be even harder to do so. When Poe began his public attacks on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Lowell took the side of his friend and neighbor in Cambridge rather than Poe's. When Poe became one-third owner of the Broadway Journal and, later, sole owner, its founder Charles Frederick Briggs maligned Poe in private letters to his close friend James Russell Lowell — odd, considering Lowell helped secure Poe's partnership with his close friend Briggs (in fact, Lowell's A Fable for Critics was initially printed to raise money to help Briggs; in that poem, Lowell famously described Poe: "three fifths of him genius and two fifths sheer fudge"). Though Lowell had once referred to Poe's "genius," by 1845 he wrote to Briggs that "Poe, I am afraid, is wholly lacking in that element of manhood which, for want of a better name, we call character." Ouch.

Both sides are guilty for building enmity, and both were too proud and too stubborn to stop it from happening. I find it disappointing, as the two men could have been friends. Both were struggling writers interested in producing deep, important poetry. Both took serious care in writing their literary reviews (though each was also quite sensitive to being criticized). Each had a high appreciation of his own ability as a poet to the point of arrogance, mixed with an odd feeling of self-loathing when times got tough. Both had financial difficulties for much of their respective lives and ambitiously attempted to found a literary journal that would nudge American writing forward. Lowell's association with the abolitionists aside, this could have been a solid partnership.

Lowell died on August 12, 1891. Rest in peace, James Russell Lowell.

A wedding and a death

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).

Death of "Fanny" Osgood

On May 12, 1850, poet Frances Sargent Osgood died after a struggle with tuberculosis. She was 38 years old.

In the 1840s, she became estranged from her painter husband, Samuel Stillman Osgood, who was tempted enough by one of several discoveries of gold in California that he left his wife and children to find some. During their estrangement, "Fanny" Osgood (as she was known) carried on a very public flirtation with Edgar A. Poe — whose wife Virginia was very much still alive. In 1845, even while Virginia was writing Poe a Valentine, her husband was writing one to Osgood.

Biographers continue to debate the sort of relationship that Osgood and Poe shared, and the range is fairly wide. Some say their flirtation was purely platonic, an innocent game of poetry. Others suggest the couple went so far as to have a bastard child together, Fanny Fay, who died just over a year later and may have inspired Poe's poem "Ulalume" ("It was surely October / On this very night of last year / That I journeyed —I journeyed down here! — / That I brought a dread burden down here — / On this night of all nights in the year..."). That unlikely story was actually sparked by the rumor-mongering New Yorker Elizabeth F. Ellet, though it still has its believers today.

Here's an example of the "scandalous" poetry between the two.

"Impromtu. To Kate Carol" (1845)

When from your gems of thought I turn
To those pure orbs, your heart to learn,
I scarce know which to prize most high —
The bright i-dea, or the bright dear-eye.

Kate Carol was one of a handful of pseudonyms that Osgood used; another was Violet Vane (though they don't appear to be very secret). Regardless of her relationship with Poe, "Mrs. Osgood" was an accomplished poet and prose writer. Her popularity made her one of the most widely-read women writers of her day, especially as a contributor to many of the more popular magazines — including Graham's Magazine and Godey's Lady's Book. Over a century and a half after her death, however, Osgood is almost universally denounced as a trashy sentimentalist who embodied the stereotypical "safe" writing of women of her day. This critique comes especially from feminist critics, who can't help but cringe at reading some of her poetry, including "Song" ("Call me pet names, dearest! Call me a bird, / That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word, / That folds its wild wings there, ne'er dreaming of flight...").

Mrs. Osgood also carried on a simple flirtation with Poe's greatest enemy, Rufus Wilmot Griswold. Griswold was on the receiving end of a couple "romantic" poems, as well as the dedication of a volume of poetry. This minor rivalry for Osgood's (platonic?) affection may have been one more motivation behind Griswold's posthumous attacks on Poe. Either way, Osgood later did reunite with her husband the painter. Always frail, her death by tuberculosis in 1850 was not unexpected. She is today buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts — alongside her husband and little Fanny Fay.

*The portrait above is by Samuel Stillman Osgood. He also painted one of his "competitor," Edgar A. Poe — before he grew his now-iconic mustache.

Griswold and Graham's

It's hard to tell for certain when the first edition of The Poets and Poetry of America hit book stores. It wasn't until April 18, 1842, however that the anthology's editor, Rufus Wilmot Griswold, was informed by publishers that it was finally published. As Carey & Hart (Philadelphia) wrote to Griswold (in New York): "We have at last published the 'Poets & Poetry of America' & a handsome Book it is."

The publisher must have rushed copies to important or influential literary figures on that first day. George Rex Graham in Philadelphia, the proprietor of the very popular Graham's Magazine, almost immediately jumped to take advantage of the rising star of Griswold. He wrote only a day later, April 19, 1842:

"Have you fully determined on assuming the Chaplaincy* and to abandon the editorial chair? Or could you find it in your heart to locate in Philadelphia? Let me hear from you, as I have a proposal to make. I like your book very much. We received it from Carey & Hart on yesterday, and although it will give offense to a few, it must be popular, and it will please every man of taste."

Graham had recently parted ways with his famous editor, Edgar Poe, who had miraculously increased circulation to 40,000, but resigned in late March. What really drove sales up was Poe's infamous critical review style, which was somewhat controversial. The Arcturus (edited by Cornelius Mathews and Evert Augustus Duyckinck) noted Poe's reviews as "elaborate" and "richly deserving of attention," though he was "somewhat over literal and minute, looking oftener to the letter than the spirit."Joseph Evans Snodgrass in the Saturday Visiter in Baltimore wrote that Poe was "an excellent reviewer" even though he was "at times, provokingly hypercritical." James Russell Lowell was a little less euphemistic and wrote that Poe occasionally mistook "his phial of prussic acid for his inkstand."

The "proposal" Graham wanted to offer Griswold was Poe's former role. Griswold seems to have accepted without hesitation and moved to Philadelphia to take the job with Graham's (leaving his family behind in New York). The transition was so quick, a rumor persisted (and still does in some circles) that Poe came to clean out his desk and saw Griswold already sitting there. The rumor is quite untrue. Nevertheless, Griswold was paid $1000 — $200 more per year than Poe — likely building up some of the animosity between the two.

Griswold's run on Graham's was significantly less successful than Poe's. Though he was able to bring in substantial writers (including James Fenimore Cooper and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow), he never earned much respect there. In fact, a year after he took over, George Lippard wrote, "It was Mr. Poe that made Graham's Magazine what it was a year ago; it was his intellect that gave this now weak and flimsy periodical a tone of refinement and mental vigor."

*Griswold had recently earned the title of "Reverend," though he never had a regular congregation.

Poe writes to Griswold

An otherwise uninteresting letter can be made interesting just based on the correspondents involved. Nothing gets more exciting (to me) than letters between Edgar A. Poe and Rufus Wilmot Griswold.

It was March, 1841. Poe had only recently joined the staff of Graham's Magazine. As Mr. George Graham announced, "Mr. POE is too well known in the literary world to require a word of commendation. As a critic he is surpassed by no man in the country; and as in this Magazine his critical abilities shall have free scope, the rod will be very generously, and at the same time, justly administered." But, more than just a critic, Poe also wanted to be recognized as a poet — a dream he had harbored since a teenager.

At the same time Poe was starting at Graham's, Rufus Griswold was preparing a massive anthology to be named The Poets and Poetry of America. Griswold was seeking out the most representative pieces of American poetry to trace its progression since the Revolution. He was fairly thorough, aiming for the well-known (like Charles Sprague) to the lesser-known (like the upstart Transcendental poet Jones Very). Poe knew that, if he wanted to be take seriously as a poet, his inclusion in Griswold's book was imperative.

In a letter dated March 29, 1841, Poe offered several poems to Griswold, gushingly admitting that he would be honored to see "one or two of them in the book." Griswold was generous and published three: "The Coliseum," "The Haunted Palace," and "The Sleeper." Interesting choices, and none (with the possible exception of "The Haunted Palace") are particularly well-known today. Nevertheless, keep in mind that 1841 was before "The Raven," "Ulalume," "Annabel Lee," and "The Bells." What's important is that Poe secured a place in the book, even if only three mediocre poems were included.

When the book was published in 1842, Poe had just left Graham's. Griswold took advantage of Poe's poverty — by bribing him. He gave Poe money if he did a favor and reviewed The Poets and Poetry of America. In return, Griswold assured its publication. The deal implied that Poe owed Griswold a positive review. Poe must not have understood — or, perhaps, he was of too high integrity. Poe assumed he was merely being paid for the typical critical work for which he was known... as Graham said, "the rod will be very generously, and at the same time, justly administered." And Poe did just that: a mix of praise and criticism that can be labeled neither wholly positive nor wholly negative. Poe's biggest complaint, by the way, was based on which poets were or were not included.

Griswold was livid. But, he did as he promised: he took the review and found a publisher for it. Far from his home base of Philadelphia or even the publishing center of New York, Griswold instead sent it over to Boston directly into the hands of a young publisher named James Thomas Fields. Fields had only lately joined the publishing firm of William D. Ticknor — in four years, the company would be renamed Ticknor and Fields.

But it wasn't even Fields that Griswold asked to publish Poe's review. Instead, he referred it to the house of "Bradbury & Lodey." As Griswold wrote, "I thought likely the name of Poe — gratuitously furnished — might be of some consquence, though I care not a fig about the publication of the criticism, as the author and myself not being on the best terms." Poe's review of The Poets and Poetry of America was eventually published in the low-circulation Boston Miscellany in November 1842.

Griswold likely never forgave Poe for not giving the high-praise, laudatory review he expected. He was never known as a forgiving person, after all.

Poe reviews Longfellow

For my 50th post, I'd like to give you Poe's own words. For those who don't know what to make of third-hand accounts of Poe's criticism of Henry Longfellow: here it is, straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. The following is Poe's actual review from my personal copy of Graham's Magazine, March 1842, of Ballads and Other Poems. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Author of "Voices of the Night," "Hyperion," etc. This has been edited somewhat for length but I have not altered the spirit of the review (including, in typical Poe fashion, the philosophical argument he uses for introduction and his "show off" discussion of language):

One would be safe in wagering that any given public idea is erroneous, for it has been yielded to the clamor of the majority; —and this strictly philosophical, although somewhat French assertion has especial bearing upon the whole race of what are termed maxims and popular proverbs; nine-tenths of which are the quintessence of folly. One of the most deplorably false of them is the antique adage, De gustibus non est disputandum — there should be no disputing about taste. Here the idea designed to be conveyed is that any one person has as just right to consider his own taste the true, as has any one other — that taste itself, in short, is an arbitrary something, amenable to no law, and measurable by no definite rules. It must be confessed, however, that the exceedingly vague and impotent treatises which are alone extand have much to answer for as regards confirming the general error. Not the least important service which, hereafter, makind will owe to Phrenology, may perhaps, be recognized in an analysis of the real principles, and a digest of the resulting laws of taste.

...

In the present number of our Magazine we have left ourselves barely room to say a few random words of welcome to these "Ballads," by Longfellow, and to tender him, and all such as he, the homage of our most earnest love and admiration.

The volume before us (in whose outward appearance lies the keen "taste" of genius is evinced with nearly as much precision as in its internal soul) includes, with several brief original pieces, a translation from the Swedish of Tegner. In attempting (what never should be attempted) a literal version of both the words and the metre of this poem, Professor Longfellow has failed to do justice either to his author or himself. He has striven to do what no man ever did well and what, from the nature of language itself, never can be well done. Unless, for example, we shall come to have an influx of spondees in our English tongue, it will always be impossible to construct an English hexameter. Our spondees, or, we should say, our spondaic words, are rare. In the Swedish they are nearly as abundant as in the Latin and Greek...

But within the narrow compass now left us we must not indulge in anything like critical comment. Our readers will be satisfied perhaps with a few brief extracts from the original poems of the volume — which we give for their rare excellence, without pausing now to say in what particulars this excellence exists.

[Extracts from "The Skeleton in Armor," "Endymion," and possibly others I don't recognize.]

Some of these passages cannot be fully appreciated apart from the context — but we address these who have read the book. Of the translations we have not spoken. It is but right to say, however, that "The Luck of Edenhall" is a far finer poem, in every respect, than any of the original pieces. Nor would we have our previous observations misunderstood. Much as we admire the genius of Mr. Longfellow, we are fully sensible of his many errors of affectation and imitation. His artistical skill is great, and his ideality high. But his conception of the aims of poesy is all wrong; and this we shall prove at some future day — to our own satisfaction, at least. His didactics are all out of place. He has written brilliant poems — by accident; that is to say when permitting his genius to get the better of his conventional habit of thinking — a habit deduced from German study. We do not mean to say that a didactic moral may not be well made the under-current of a poetical thesis; but that it can never be well put so obtrusively forth, as in the majority of his compositions. There is a young American who, with ideality not richer than that of Longfellow, and with less artistical knowledge, has yet composed far truer poems, merely through the greater propriety of his themes. We allude to James Russell Lowell; and in the number of this Magazine for last month, will be found a ballad entitled "Rosaline," affording an excellent exemplification of our meaning. This composition has unquestionably its defects, and the very defects which are never perceptible in Mr. Longfellow — but we sincerely think that no American poems equals it in the higher elements of song.

----

And there you have it — Poe's awful, terrible, mean-spirited, jealous rage in which he damns Longfellow... by calling him a genius to whom he offers earnest love and admiration. Yes, there are a few left-handed compliments in there, but he is noting that Longfellow is, after all, a good poet — who happens to be stuck in the rut of didacticism, something which Poe hates. Again, I emphasize that Poe's concern with Longfellow is based on poetic theory. What's important here, of course, is that Poe is emphasizing that all of this is just his personal opinion, which he has every right to offer, even if it is opposite popular opinion (hence the long introduction). I also love the comparison to James Russell Lowell, who may have (in part) spurred the later Longfellow War by instigating Poe.

My paper on the Poe-Longfellow War, in which I will return to contemporary responses (Lowell, Margaret Fuller, Charles Frederick Briggs, Rufus Griswold, and others) has just been accepted by the Poe Studies Association. This means I will have the honor of presenting at the Poe Bicentennial Conference in Philadelphia this fall.

Happy 50th blog post, fellow Poeists!

Dickens and Poe in Philadelphia

The date is uncertain, but Charles Dickens and Edgar A. Poe met some time in March 1842, likely March 7.

As part of his tour of the United States, Dickens arrived in Philadelphia on March 5 and lodged at the United States Hotel on Chestnut Street above Fourth Street. By this time, Dickens had published a handful of works, including Oliver Twist, The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, and Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty (his A Christmas Carol would be published in 1843). Poe saw a great opportunity to rub elbows with an admired literary figure and wrote him a letter requesting an interview. Dickens responded with his own letter, dated March 6, 1842:

I shall be very glad to see you, whenever you will do me the favor to call... I have glanced over the books [apparently a copy of Tales of the Grotesque and the Arabesque] you have been so kind as to send to me; and more particularly at the papers to which you called my attention [Poe's review of Barnaby Rudge] . I have the greater pleasure in expressing a desire to see you, on their account.

Presumably, the two writers met on March 7, likely at the United States Hotel where Dickens was staying. The major topic of discussion was the state of American poetry. Poe read to Dickens a poem called "A Humble Bee" by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Dickens, apparently a sincere admirer of Poe's works which he "glanced over," offered to find an English publisher for Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque (he never did). And Poe, always thinking like an editor, tried to convince Dickens to write for Graham's Magazine - Dickens slyly responded that he would, if he contributed to any American magazine.

By March 9, Dickens left Philadelphia and made his way to Washington, D.C., the next leg of his United States visit.

For more on the connection between Poe and Dickens, please read my prior post on "Charles Dickens with his raven."

A Fable for James Russell Lowell

It was on this day in 1819 that James Russell Lowell was born. Over the next 72 years, he would lead a diverse life — as a professor, a poet, an editor, a critic, an ambassador, and as an ardent abolitionist. His most famous connection to Poe comes from his book-length satirical poem A Fable for Critics,* in which he writes:

There comes Poe with his Raven, like Barnaby Rudge,
Three fifths of him genius and two fifths sheer fudge,
Who talks like a book of iambs and pentameters,
In a way to make people of common sense damn metres,
Who has written some things quite the best of their kind,
But the heart somehow seems all squeezed out by the mind,
Who — But hey-day! What's this? Messieurs [Cornelius] Mathews and Poe,
You mustn't fling mud-balls at Longfellow so (But, more on him in a few days)...

Poe did not leave this mention unanswered. He reviewed A Fable for Critics (rather late) in March 1849 for the Southern Literary Messenger. Unfortunately, Poe proves Lowell's characterization to be accurate by spending far too much time writing about the Fable's structure and poetic meter: "Mr. L. should not have meddled with the anapaestic [sic] rhythm; it is exceedingly awkward in the hands of one who knows nothing about it and who will persist in fancying that he can write it by ear." He also spends too much time judging Lowell's abolitionism rather than looking at the poem independently. Reading the review, I keep thinking, "Lighten up, Poe! It's a joke!" Having read A Fable for Critics, I have to say, I always laugh like crazy, regardless of what meter he used — though I'd agree with Poe that Lowell's attempt at a "plot" is weak.

It's easy to assume from this information that Lowell hated Poe and Poe hated Lowell. But, as is often the case, things are quite a bit more complicated than that.

Poe actually liked Lowell's poetry. For one example, well before Lowell's potshot against him, Poe wrote that he was surprised Rufus Griswold didn't dedicate more space to Lowell in the ground-breaking anthology The Poets and Poetry of America in 1842 (Griswold actually gave Lowell less space by the 1851 edition). A bit earlier, in the December 1841 issue of Graham's Magazine, Poe ranked Lowell to "at least the second or third place among the poets of America. We say this on account of the vigor of his imagination — a faculty to be first considered in all criticism upon poetry" (though, even here, he notes that Lowell doesn't quite have an ear for meter).

I believe Poe appreciated Lowell because of similar aesthetic theories (very disparate from Lowell's close friend Longfellow's theories, but more on that in an upcoming entry). Besides the spirits and sadness in some of Lowell's works which Poe undoubtedly appreciated, Lowell placed the aesthetic beauty of a poem as its foremost quality. He also believed that the poet held a special role because he had an insight that the general population lacked. Poe must have agreed; he once wrote, a writer must "explain the unexplainable."

Lowell and Poe had a falling out for a couple of reasons. For one, Lowell was a New Englander (Elmwood, at right, is where he lived the majority of his life, from birth to death, in Cambridge, MA) and, like many New Englanders, was an abolitionist — a quick turn-off to Southerners like Poe ("Out from the land of bondage 'tis decreed our slaves shall go," Lowell wrote in the poem "On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves Near Washington" in 1845). Additionally, Lowell was sucked into that dreaded idea that poetry should teach lessons (like Longfellow believed) or that poetry could be used for social reform (like Emerson and the Transcendentalists believed). Poe hated both didacticism and Transcendentalism, and the snot-nosed Boston literary culture that embraced Emerson, Longfellow, and Lowell.

This dislike of New England came to a head in the mid-1840s, when Poe paid special critical attention to Lowell's good friend and neighbor Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Too endeared by Longfellow to look at Poe's criticism objectively, he took his neighbor's side in the conflict. And that endearment is what led to the quote from A Fable for Critics above.

Even amidst the beginnings of the "Longfellow War," however, in 1843 Lowell was the first to publish Poe's now-famous story "The Tell-Tale Heart" in his short-lived journal Pioneer. The journal only lasted three issues and, upon its cancellation, Poe lamented it as "a most severe blow to the cause—the cause of a Pure Taste." In fact, the prospectus for the Pioneer sounds strikingly like the prospectus for Poe's dream-project The Stylus. Around this time, Lowell also referred to Poe as having "that indescribable something which men have agreed to call genius.” Lowell later helped Poe find his way to a role at the Broadway Journal because of his connection to a very good friend named Charles Frederick Briggs (to whom A Fable for Critics was dedicated). Shortly after, Lowell helped set-up a prestigious speaking engagement for Poe in Boston in late 1845. Of course, Poe's "Messenger Star" poem turned out to be... well, that will be a post for another day, perhaps.

In the meantime — if I haven't bored you too much already — here's a great example of Lowell's more typical poetry, an excerpt from "To the Dandelion":

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,
First pledge of blithesome May,
Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold,
High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they
An Eldorado in the grass have found.

Or, perhaps, an excerpt from "The Syrens":

The sea is lonely, the sea is dreary,
The sea is restless and uneasy;
Thou seekest quiet, thou art weary,
Wandering thou knowest not whither;—
Our little isle is green and breezy,
Come and rest thee! O come hither!
Come to this peaceful home of ours
Where evermore
The low west-wind creeps panting up the shore
To be at rest among the flowers;
Full of rest, the green moss lifts,
As the dark waves of the sea
Draw in and out of rocky rifts,
Calling solemnly to thee
With voice deep and hollow,—
"To the shore
Follow! O follow!
To be at rest forevermore!
For evermore!"

Happy birthday, James Russell Lowell.*

Above: Your fearless blogger paying his respects at the grave of James Russell Lowell, Mount Auburn Cemetery

* I had difficulty finding a full version of the Fable online so I started transposing it from an 1888 edition I own (you're welcome).

**My apologies for the extra-long entry. Poe and Lowell intertwine so much and, from there, branch out into so many other stories; the number of tags on this post has to be a record-breaker. And, of course, I am a big fan of Lowell (not just Poe)!

Charles Dickens with his raven

A special birthday tribute to a writer from across the pond, Charles Dickens (who still has a few years yet before he turns 200). I like to use Dickens as an example of what was happening in American literature because, though he wasn't American, he was the best-selling novelist in the United States for a time. American literature (and especially the American novel) had a slow start, and Americans were looking to mother England and its long-standing tradition of literature. Of course, there's also the whole international copyright issue, which meant that much of Dickens's work was published in the United States without legal permission. Ah well.

Our own Edgar Poe connects with Dickens in a couple of ways and I'm sure I'll mention the others throughout the year. Today, however, I'd like to connect one of Dickens's lesser-known novels with Poe's most famous poem.

Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty, like most of Dickens's works, originally was printed in serialized form, in this case between 1840 and 1841. Poe was working in Philadelphia for Graham's Magazine at the time and reviewed Dickens's work in the February 1842 issue (of which I happen to have a first printing). The long review — nearly 12 columns — applauds Dickens's efforts, with an occasional negative criticism peppered throughout ("Mr Dickens fails peculiarly in pure narration").

The majority of Poe's praise is directed towards Dickens's ability to present dramatis personae — dramatic characters. Such skill "sustain[s] the high fame of Mr. Dickens as a delineator of character... Their traits are founded in acute observation of nature, but are exaggerated to the utmost admissible extent." He does find a flaw or two, and one particular one which he emphasizes: Dickens included as a character a talking raven. He wrote:

The raven, too, intensely amusing as it is, might have been made, more than we now see it, a portion of the conception of the fantastic Barnaby. Its croakings might have been prophetically heard in the course of the drama.

And thus, the concept of a talking raven that serves as a prophet was first crafted by Poe — and, by the way, those are Poe's italics, not mine.

In this review, we see another connection that Poe will make between Barnaby Rudge and his own poem "The Raven" in just a couple years. Poe questions that "no work of fiction can fully suit, at the same time, the critical and the popular taste". He would challenge this assertion very specifically in "The Raven", as he explains in its companion essay "The Philosophy of Composition" using nearly those exact same words.

Poe didn't deny Dickens's inspiration, either. He mentioned Barnaby Rudge in "The Philosophy of Composition" and many other writers knew it too. James Russell Lowell, for example, famously referred to Poe in A Fable for Critics (1848) as coming "with his Raven, like Barnaby Rudge."

Dickens, by the way, was inspired to include a raven character because he himself owned a pet raven named Grip. After Grip's death, Dickens had him stuffed and mounted in a glass case. The connection between Dickens's raven and Poe's was strong enough that Poe collector Richard Gimbel purchased the stuffed Grip and added it to his collection (now preserved at the Philadelphia Free Library). I had the good fortune of seeing Grip, in his current form, in January and was proud to think that it was from this little guy (actually, he's quite large!) that we eventually had "Once upon a midnight dreary..."

Happy birthday, Mr. Dickens.

Poe the Critic

We can only speculate on how Poe wanted to be remembered. Considering his massive literary output, he could have hoped for any number of legacies. During most of his career, however, he was first and foremost a critic, and it was in his criticism that he first built a national reputation. Known especially for his particularly harsh reviews and even harsher dissection of bad sentences, James Russell Lowell once remarked that Poe occasionally mistook his vial of prussic acid for ink.

Today, few readers are familiar with Poe's criticism beyond the generalizations I've just made. To fill in that gap, I'm copying in full one of Poe's criticisms, originally printed 167 years ago in the January issue of Graham's Magazine in 1842. Poe provides his usual ambiguous commentary, his specific indictment of poor word usage (phonetics, in this case), hypocrisy (see if you can spot it), and a brief mention of his favorite topic: imitation.

Pocahontas, and Other Poems. By Mrs. L. H. Sigourney. Harper and Brothers: New York.

Some years ago we had occasion to speak of "Zinzendorf, and Other Poems," by Mrs. Sigourney, and at that period we found, or fancied that we found many points, in her general manner, which called for critical animadversion. At no period, however, have we been so rash as to dispute her claim to high rank among the poets of the land. In the volume now published by the Messieurs Harper, we are proud to discover not one of those more important blemishes which were a stain upon her earlier style. We had accused her of imitation of Mrs. Hemans - but this imitation is no longer apparent.

The author of "Pocahontas" (an unusually fine poem of which we may take occasion to speak full hereafter) has also abandoned a very foolish mannerism with which she was erewhile infected - the mannerism of heading her pieces with paragraphs, or quotations, by way of text, from which the poem itself ensued as a sermon. This was an exceedingly inartistical practice, and one now well discarded.

The lesser pieces in the volume before us have, for the most part, already met our eye as fugitive effusions. In general, they deserve all commendation.

"Pocahontas" is a far finer poem than a late one on the same subject by Mrs. Sheba Smith. Mrs. Sigourney, however, has the wrong accentuation of Powhatan. In the second stanza of the poem, too, "harassed" is in false quantity. We speak of these trifles merely en passant.

Hereafter we may speak in full.

Autographs

The following excerpts are from "An Appendix of Autographs" (sometimes referred to as the "Autography" series) by Edgar A. Poe - January 1842 issue of Graham's Magazine. The issue reproduced autographs from well-known figures in American letters and Poe took the opportunity to sort of psychoanalyze them (if you'll pardon the anachronism) based on their writing. How (or if) Poe became an expert on signatures is unknown, but he makes sure to stick in a couple of good left-handed compliments.

Cornelius Mathews

Mr. Cornelius Mathews is one of the editors of "Arcturus," a monthly journal which has attained much reputation during the brief period of its existence. He is the author of "Puffer Hopkins," a clever satirical tale somewhat given to excess in caricature, and also of the well-written retrospective criticisms which appear in his Magazine. He is better known, however, by "The Motley Book," published some years ago - a work which we had no opportunity of reading. He is a gentleman of taste and judgment, unquestionably.

His MS. is much to our liking - bold, distinct and picturesque - such a hand as no one destitute of talent indites. The signature conveys his hand.

Charles Fenno Hoffman

Mr. Charles Fenno Hoffman is the author of "A Winter in the West," "Greyslaer," and other productions of merit. At one time he edited, with much ability, the "American Monthly Magazine" in conjunction with Mr. Benjamin, and, subsequently, with Dr. Bird. He is a gentleman of talent.

His chirography is not unlike that of Mr. Matthews [sic]. It has the same boldness, strength, and picturesqueness, but is more diffuse, more ornamented and less legible. Our fac-simile is from a somewhat hurried signature, which fails in giving a correct idea of the general hand.

Horace Greeley

Mr. Horace Greeley, present editor of "The Tribune," and formerly of the "New-Yorker," has for many yeras been remakred as one of the most able and honest of American editors. He has written much and invariably well. His political knowledge is equal to that of any of his contemporaries - his general information extensive. As a belles-lettres crtiic he is entitled to high respect.

His MS. is a remarkable one - having about it a peculiarity which we know not how better to designate than as a converse of the picturesque. His characters are scratchy ad irregular, ending with an abrupt taper - if we may be allowed this contradiction in terms, where we have the fac-simile to prove that there is no contradiction in fact. All abrupt MSS., save this, have square or concise terminations of the letters. The whole chirography puts us in mind of a jig. We can fancy the writer jerking up his hand from the paper at the end of each word, and, indeed, of each letter. What mental idiosyncracy lies perdue beneath all this, is more than we can say, but we will venture to assert that Mr. Greely [sic] (whom we do not know personally) is, personally, a very remarkable man.

Washington Allson

The name of "Washington Allston," the poet and painter, is one that has been long before the public. Of his paintings we have here nothing to say - except briefly, that the most noted of them are not to our taste. His poems are not at all of a high order of merit; and, in turth, the faults of his pencil and of his pen are identical. Yet every reader will remember his "Spanish Maid" with pleasure and the "Address to Great Britain," first published in Coleridge's "Sybilline Leaves," and attributed to an English author, is a production of which Mr. Allston may be proud.

His MS. notwithstanding an exceedingly simple and even boyish air, is one which we particularly admire. It is forcible, picturesque and legible, without ornament of any description. Each letter is formed with a thorough distinctness and individuality. Such a MS. indicates caution and precision, most unquestionably - but we say of it as we say of Mr. Peabody's, (a very different MS.) that no man of original genius ever did or could habitually indite it under any circumstances whatever. The signature conveys the general hand with accuracy.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, of Boston, late Professor of Anatomy and Physiology at Dartmouth College, has written many productions of merit, and has been pronounced, by a very high authority, the best of the humorous poets of the day.

His chirography is remarkably fine, and a quick fancy might easily detect, in its graceful yet picturesque quaintness, an analogy with the vivid drollery of his style. The signature is a fair specimen of the general MS.

The Death of the Broadway Journal / The Birth of The Stylus

On January 3, 1846, the final issue of the Broadway Journal was issued in New York. Edgar Poe had been its editor and sole proprietor for its final few issues after his partners, Bisco and Briggs, backed away from the project. It was the only journal that Poe ever owned, though it did not deter him from what was arguably the biggest goal in his life: producing his own journal, The Stylus.

Reasons for the failure of the Broadway Journal are manifold and the truth is that Poe inherited a journal which was already struggling in a periodical-saturated market. It's hard to blame him for its demise (though, feel free to argue by leaving a comment to this entry).

It is tempting, however, to speculate on Poe's skills as a publisher. First and foremost, Poe was not a businessperson and we certainly can't remember him as one (much of his business moves were guided by his personal adviser and mother-in-law Maria Clemm, and it would be an interesting debate to discuss whether she was a help or a hamper). Assuming Poe was able to bring in a partner to The Stylus, which isn't unlikely considering the many he courted to aid him in the endeavor (including Thomas Holley Chivers), I would argue that Poe would have brought a hefty journal into the world.

He seems to have proven himself in his many editorial roles. With Graham's Magazine in Philadelphia, for example, he often corresponded with contributors and potential contributors; he solicited for new material; he engaged in finding illustrations; he even helped contributors track down money that they were owed from his boss, George R. Graham, who very often was behind in paying his bills for one reason or another. Of course, as a critic, Poe had established himself as a substantial "name" bordering on celebrity status - his contributions of literary reviews alone would have driven many subscribers to his doorstep.

More than this, I like to believe that Poe was able to dig deep into all the nitty-gritty details of publisher. Presumably, he knew about illustrations and woodcuts and the like. He knew about ink, publishing machinery, distributing to subscribers, and setting type (a very basic knowledge would have been needed for him to write his hilarious story "X-ing a Paragrab"). Certainly, by the end of the Broadway Journal, he was a one-man show who must have been involved with all of these aspects.

It's certainly fun to think what The Stylus might have been, had it ever come to fruition. What really would have made its success such a challenge, however, was how high Poe was aiming. Purposely avoiding the tendency to cater to the mainstream "unwashed masses" of readers, The Stylus would have been high brow, to say the least. Poe's goal was nothing less than advancing the state of American letters to create a higher quality literary canon on this side of the pond. In a world where gift-books thrived, and the coming "feminine fifties" promoting sappy poetry about flowers and the like, The Stylus would have struggled to find an audience and, I think, would ultimately have disappeared as fast as the countless other journals that never thrived in the 19th century.

Why was The Stylus never born? My guess is that it would have been, had Poe not died in October 1849.