In Memoriam: Eliza Poe

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.

Poe arrives in South Carolina

Under the pseudonym Edgar A. Perry, an 18-year old Poe was ordered, along with the rest of his regiment, to Sullivan's Island near Charleston, South Carolina. After an eleven-day journey on a boat named Waltham, they arrived on November 18, 1827.

During his time on Sullivan's Island, Poe/Perry distinguished himself as an enlisted soldier. Six months after his arrival, Poe was promoted to "Artificer." Eight months after that, he was promoted to Sergeant Major, the highest rank a non-commissioned officer could make.

Sullivan's Island would later serve as the setting for "The Gold-Bug." Like many places which Poe made home, even for short periods of time, Charleston has come to truly embrace the writer. The town has named its public library for Poe and streets are named for "The Raven" and "The Gold-Bug."

But, the question is, considering how accomplished Poe was as a soldier, why did he not complete his enlisted term? Instead, he promised a high payment for another man ("Bully" Graves) to finish his term for him. When he tried to become a commissioned officer, why did he purposely get himself kicked out of West Point?

It was only about four months before he left for South Carolina that Poe gave a bundle of manuscripts to a Boston printer named Calvin F. S. Thomas. Thomas issued the first edition of Poe's poems ever published: the 40-page Tamerlane and Other Poems, credited only "by a Bostonian." It is estimated that only 50 copies were printed, and the book made no impact at all, critically or financially.

The fever called "Living"

In late 1848, Poe was struggling between two women. One was single and available but, most unfortunately, a Transcendentalist. The other was flirtatious but very married (with children). One was a poet in Providence, Rhode Island, but Sarah Helen Whitman had doubts that Poe was on the right track and urged him to take a temperance pledge (he would take another pledge a year later). The other was a non-literary woman from Lowell, Massachusetts, who promised Poe she'd visit him at his deathbed. Poe wanted to take Nancy Richmond up on that promise.

Making his way from Lowell to Providence, Poe stopped in Boston. On November 5, 1848, he said, he attempted to bring himself near enough to death that Nancy Richmond would have to come see him. So, he procured two ounces of laudanum, an opiate commonly used as a painkiller. He wrote a letter to Nancy, "in which I opened my whole heart to you... whom I so madly, so distractedly love." In the letter, he reminded her of her promise to see him on his deathbed, and wrote where he would be. On his way to the Post Office, he swallowed half his laudanum — an attempt at suicide which he hoped would put him on his deathbed. However, Poe took enough laudanum that he was unable to deliver the letter that would have called for Nancy Richmond to see him. It was not enough to kill him, and Poe wrote how he his stomach had rejected the drug (he vomited). The event is Poe's only documented drug use for either medical or recreational purpose.

He returned to Providence, told Sarah Helen Whitman he was ill, then made his way home to New York. Whitman later described the incident that Poe had "taken something at a druggists" something which he thought would make him feel better. Instead, she said, it "bewildered him." She does not allude to Poe being near death. On November 9, she took him to have his portrait taken.

What really happened in Boston on November 5, 1848? Did Poe really take laudanum and, if so, was it enough to cause his death? Was this really a suicide attempt? Is it really so simple to categorize? The letter, in which Poe poured his soul to Nancy (whom he called "Annie"), the one which he was about to deliver when he took the laudanum, does not exist. Biographers like to say, often without irony or question, that Poe tried to kill himself that day. More likely, Poe was over-dramatizing the whole event and trying to get attention (many "suicide attempts" today are equally an attempt at getting attention). Nevertheless, the incident inspired one of his most powerful poems. Allegedly written to Nancy Richmond, it is addressed in his nickname to her.

"For Annie"

Thank Heaven! the crisis—
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last—
And the fever called "Living"
Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length—
But no matter!—I feel
I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,
Now, in my bed
That any beholder
Might fancy me dead—
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart:—ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!

The sickness—the nausea—
The pitiless pain—
Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brain—
With the fever called "Living"
That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all tortures
That torture the worst
Has abated-the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the naphthaline river
Of Passion accurst:-
I have drunk of a water
That quenches all thirst:—

Of a water that flows,
With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
Feet under ground—
From a cavern not very far
Down under ground.

And ah! let it never
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bed;
For man never slept
In a different bed—
And, to sleep, you must slumber
In just such a bed.

My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting its roses—
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
About it, of pansies—
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansies—
With rue and the beautiful
Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of Annie—
Drowned in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
To sleep on her breast—
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm—
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)
That you fancy me dead—
And I rest so contentedly,
Now, in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
That you fancy me dead—
That you shudder to look at me,
Thinking me dead.

But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie—
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie—
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.

The Boston Lyceum incident, cont'd

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.

The Boston Lyceum incident

Years before his death, Poe made his final trip to Boston. On October 16, 1845, dovetailing off the success of "The Raven," Poe presented a lecture at the Boston Lyceum. The fiasco that ensued has invited several interpretations in modern times, most recently by Philip Phillips of Middle Tennessee State University. What was Poe thinking?

Poe had been asked to present an original poem; James Russell Lowell was likely involved in setting up his appearance. We know that Poe disliked many of the prominent Massachusetts writers (not necessarily Bostonian, including Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, William Ellery Channing, and Ralph Waldo Emerson, not to mention his see-sawing responses to Nathaniel Hawthorne) so it might have been awkward for him. Yet, Poe was a Bostonian by birth. He moved there when he left the Allan family and his first book was published there with the byline "by a Bostonian."

The evening on October 16 began with a long oration by Caleb Cushing (pictured at left), a well-known Massachusetts politician who had just returned from a mission to China. His two-and-a-half hour speech got first billing. Poe was next and, after a few quick stabs at Boston audiences, presented something he titled "The Messenger Star" — which was, in fact, his much earlier poem "Al Aaraaf," rather than the original poem expected.

The response was mixed. Some say people in the audience were baffled and confused; some may have left early (blame Cushing?). Editor of the Boston Evening Transcript Cornelia Wells Walter expressed hostility. But poet/editor/travel writer Thomas Wentworth Higginson was not only sympathetic but laudatory (though he admitted confusion too). He said he "felt that we had been under the spell of some wizard."

Poe later claimed it was a hoax, trying to prove that the Boston audience did not know good poetry. "Al Aaraaf," of course, is one of the most allegorical of Poe's poems (which New Englanders love, according to Poe) and also one of the thickest, full of confusing allusions and complicated alternating metrical schemes. The fact that Poe did not give the proper name and instead referred to it as "The Messenger Star" is evidence that he was not trying to play it straight. The poem was 16 years old when he read it, but it had been re-published in excerpts only a few months earlier in an article by J. R. Lowell. But, what did he really intend? Could he really have "hoaxed" anyone?

To My Mother

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.

Poe's final (and forgotten) prose work

Poe's final short story (if it can be called that) was published in the June 9, 1849, issue of Boston's The Flag of Our Union. This final published prose work by Poe, "Landor's Cottage," is more appropriately labeled a "sketch." It is now a relatively-unknown Poe work.

The manuscript for this sketch was written much earlier than its first publication. Poe references the work in a letter to Nancy "Annie" Richmond of Lowell, Massachusetts in a letter to her circa January 21, 1849, according to the Baltimore Edgar Allan Poe Society. The next day, coincidentally, Frederick Gleason of The Flag of Our Union wrote to Poe, inviting him to become a regular contributor.

Poe had some difficulty publishing "Landor's Cottage." In September 1848, Poe wrote to Eli Bowen (former editor of the Columbia Spy), who had recently become editor of the Miner's Journal in Pottsville, Pennsylvania. The duo seem to have agreed that the sketch was not appropriate for that journal. He then submitted the manuscript to the American Metropolitan Magazine in New York. By March 1849, the magazine sent it back to Poe, unpublished. A few months later, The Flag of Our Union picked it up and published it with the subheading "A Pendant to 'The Domain of Arnheim'," referring to an earlier sketch by Poe.

But, what is "Landor's Cottage" about? Mary Gove Nichols, a friend and neighbor of Poe in New York, noted that it was about Poe's time in his small cottage in the Fordham area of The Bronx, New York (pictured at right as it looks today). Modern scholars do not seem to disagree. Nancy Richmond has been identified as the "Annie" in the story, a nickname she later adopted as her legal name. In the sketch, Poe meets Annie and describes her eyes as "spiritual gray" and her hair as "light chestnut."

Certainly, an interesting, if not unfortunate, final prose work — definitely not one which has cemented Poe's legacy (feel free to challenge me on the value of "Landor's Cottage"; I'd love to hear what others think). Only one other new work will see print before Poe's death. You'll hear more about it next month.

Perry made an artificer

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.

Emerson, Transcendentalism, and Poe

Ralph Waldo Emerson has become the figurehead of American Transcendentalism. Even in his lifetime, he was the face of the movement, even though several others were important participants; many of those names are not commonly known today (anyone remember Orestes Brownson, Christopher Pearse Cranch, Frederick Henry Hedge, Sylvester Judd, Jones Very...?). Emerson was considered to be one of the greatest minds of the 19th century. However, when he died on April 27, 1882, not much of that mind was left.

Emerson suffered from some form of dementia, speculated by some to be Alzheimer's. He certainly had aphasia — his memory could no longer find the words for simple objects and concepts. When he attended the funeral of his good friend Henry Wadsworth Longfellow only a month before his own death, Emerson reportedly said something to the effect of: "Today we bury a great man. I do not remember his name." Emerson was also forgetting his own name. When asked how he felt around this time, he once answered: ""Quite well; I have lost my mental faculties, but am perfectly well."

These final years of Emerson aren't often discussed.* Of course, Edgar A. Poe never knew Emerson at this late stage in his life. Poe knew of Emerson when he was in his prime. Poe, just like people today, saw Emerson as the icon of Transcendentalism - and that made him a target.

Poe's utter dislike of Transcendentalism was no secret (he once took a swipe at Nathaniel Hawthorne, who he otherwise respected, simply for living in Concord, Massachusetts — the seat of the movement), and his particular disgust with Emerson was equally well-known. Poe chided the Concord Sage for writing that was purposely difficult to understand — "mysticism for mysticism's sake," as Poe referred to it. Poe also identified (and he was a bit right) that Emerson was "little more than a respectful imitation of [Thomas] Carlyle."

Overall, Transcendentalism and its avowed idealism didn't make sense to Poe (nor does it make sense to most high schoolers introduced to it). As he wrote, "They could not define their own position & cannot be expected that I can define them exactly." However, he noted that their philosophy wasn't inherently bad. "You mistake me in supposing I dislike the transcendentalists," he wrote to friend Thomas Holley Chivers. "It is only the pretenders and sophists among them." When the Transcendental community at Brook Farm began publishing their journal, The Harbinger, to promote their worldview, Poe wrote it was "conducted by an assemblage of well-read persons who mean no harm—and who, perhaps, can do no less." True enough.

Eventually, Poe looped all of the Boston area with Transcendentalism (and a general Longfellow-like lack of originality). So, feel free to blame Emerson for at least part of Poe's distaste for Boston in his adult years. Next month (May 25), I'll follow up with a battle of poetry, Emerson vs. Poe.

Perhaps ironically, today, the City of Boston dedicates "Edgar Allan Poe Square" at the intersection of Charles St. and Boylston St. near his original birthplace, directly across from the Boston Common. I'm sure the ceremony was scheduled on the anniversary of Emerson's death by mere coincidence.

*I am of the opinion that Emersonians have, for years, been cleaning up his image. Hiding his struggle with dimentia - or the fact that he was not perfect - does not help him. It would be better to humanize him, rather than try to deify him.

Ride, boldly ride

Though Poe's relationship with the Boston-based newspaper Flag of Our Union was likely a love-hate one, some of his greatest works were published in it. One of the greatest continues off a theme introduced in "Von Kempelen and His Discovery": the California Gold Rush.

The poem "Eldorado" was first published in the April 21, 1849* issue of the Flag of Our Union, a week after the more comical treatment of "Von Kempelen" was published. "Eldorado" is a short one, but within its 24 lines, I read humor, irony, sadness, foreboding, hope, and courage. Like those who have joined the frenzy of the gold rush, the narrator in this poem is seeking easy riches. Yet, he will learn his journey will be a long, arduous one - and it seems hinted that it will never be successful. Biographer Kenneth Silverman (as he often does) quickly and without irony assigns Poe himself the role of the narrator of this poem: reaching the end of his life, Poe still grasps for success and, though he finds it unattainable, forever continues reaching.

I disagree on the autobiographical reading; instead, the poem should stand on its own for its beauty and strength as a poem. One of its greatest (yet most subtle) beauties is in the changing meaning of the word "shadow" throughout:

Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old—
This knight so bold—
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow—
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be—
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied—
"If you seek for Eldorado!"

*It seems that each issue came out exactly one week before the date on its title page.
**The image above is by French illustrator Edmund Dulac, circa 1920s.

Poe returns to the city of his birth

Despondent and unable to patch up the latest fight with his foster-father, an 18-year old Edgar A. Poe had determined to leave the Allan family. Because John Allan was no longer interested in providing financial assistance to his foster-son, Poe did not have the option to return to the University of Virginia — where he had been an outstanding student, studying modern and ancient languages. The latest fight with Allan must have involved that, and possibly his illegitimate children.

Leaving from Norfolk, Virginia via coal vessel on March 24, 1827, he made his way to Boston. John Allan, apparently, was not given any information and, in sense, Poe ran away from him. Allan was not particularly concerned. He wrote, "Im thinking Edgar has gone to Sea to seek his own fortunes." Frances Allan, Poe's loving (yet dying) foster-mother, on the other hand, may have had some idea and may have given Poe money to cover his $12 travel expense.

What drew Poe to Boston is anyone's guess. When his mother Eliza Poe died, she left him only two items: a miniature portrait of her self and a watercolor image of Boston, on the back of which she wrote for him to "always remember Boston, the city of your birth." Optimistically, he assumed that things would be easy in Boston, especially as a publishing center. Sure enough, Poe was able to raise enough money to publish his first book Tamerlane and Other Poems — a pathetic 50 copies were printed. Today the book is considered the rarest first edition in American poetry and a single copy (of which only a dozen remain) is worth more money than Poe made in his lifetime.

The book didn't net him profit or significant critical attention. Likely while it was still going to press, Poe made a strange decision. Despite his privileged upbringing in a wealthy mercantile foster-family, Poe enlisted as a common soldier in the United States Army. Conveniently shedding his past, he used the pseudonym "Edgar A. Perry" and claimed he was 22; he was only 18. Poe was stationed at Fort Independence on Castle Island (today open to the public, but be prepared for strong winds if you visit).

Poe excelled as a soldier but his time in Boston would not be long; he was soon transferred to Fort Moultrie in South Carolina. Years later, Poe would publicly chide the Boston culture and the literary scene. Exactly why he turned his back on the city of his birth is not known.

Hop-Frog's last jest

On March 17, 1849 - just over six months before his death - Edgar A. Poe published the last of his horror tales in the Boston-based periodical Flag of Our Union. "Hop-Frog: Or, the Eight Chained Orangoutangs" features a short-statured jester who works for a practical joke-loving king. Hop-Frog was taken from his home and became a slave of the king's and, on his birthday, the king reminds him of the friends he will never see again. Hop-Frog finally has had enough of the king and decides to perform one last jest...

Poe's horror works stretch as far back as January 1832 when he published "Metzengerstein." So, from "Metzengerstein" to "Hop-Frog," Poe had only 17 years of horror-writing before his death. Some of his horror works aren't quite as scary as they once were and many are forgotten or overshadowed by better-known works. What's important about "Hop-Frog" is that Poe was inspired by a true event.

In the 1840s, Poe's popularity was skyrocketing. First, his reputation was built as a critic and, after 1845, he was one of the most well-known poets of his generation with the publication of "The Raven." Amidst all of this, however, he was making enemies in the literary world (some were his fault, but not always). When people published overly-critical commentary on his character or repuation, Poe retaliated - through lawsuits, of course.

Attacks on his character were particularly troubling to Poe at the end of the decade because he was actively pursuing romantic relationships; at least one relationship was cut off likely because of an assault on his character. Lawsuits, however, can only do so much. So, Poe cleverly hid his revenge in prose, including "The Cask of Amontillado" and, of course, in "Hop-Frog."

Hop-Frog the jester pulls his final, deadly prank on the king and his eight ministers, who are humiliated and burned to death in front of a shocked audience. If Hop-Frog represents Poe, his victims were really people like Thomas Dunn English (more on him another time), Anne Lynch Botta, Hiram Fuller and Margaret Fuller (no relation), among others. The king, of course, was none other than Elizabeth F. Ellet, who was infamous as a trouble-maker (another of her victims, who suffered far more than Poe, was Rufus Wilmot Griswold).

My guess is that Poe had some form of catharsis by venting his anger by creating fiction - and he likely had further enjoyment of the "hoax" by keeping his vengeance a secret.

Upcoming lectures

Looking for some of Rob's famous Poe-expertise outside the electronic/digital realm? Here are some "real world" appearances and lectures coming up:


"Poe and the Maritime Literary Tradition"
Wednesday, March 4 at 7:00 p.m.
160 Derby Street, Salem, Massachusetts
Part of a maritime lecture series by the schooner Fame and Salem Maritime National Park

Join Rob Velella, creator of the Edgar Allan Poe Bicentennial Desk Calendar, to discuss why sea adventures were popular, how Poe was inspired to write several of his own, Poe's personal experience of the sea, and how one particularly famous sailor who has a link to Salem's Friendship may have a connection to Poe`s mysterious (and as yet unsolved) death in 1849.


"A War of the Words: Poe's Battle With Longfellow"
Thursday, April 9 at 7:00 p.m. (I'll confirm the time later)
Cambridge Center for Adult Education, Brattle Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts

In the 1840s, at the height of his literary fame, Edgar Allan Poe publicly accused Henry Wadsworth Longfellow of being a weak poetic imitator. Poe's infamous conflict with the Brattle Street poet drew the attention of other writers with deep connections to Cambridge. Was Poe right or was he just jealous? This discussion will reexamine the various theories behind Poe's accusations and determine his true motivation.


"Edgar A. Poe's Friends and Enemies: A Walk Among the Dead"
Sunday, April 19 at 2:00 p.m.
Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge, Massachusetts

Nothing goes together better than cemeteries and Edgar Allan Poe. Meet many of his interred literary contemporaries at Mount Auburn. As a critic, Poe had much to say about many of these figures, both well-known and lesser-known. Some were friends, and some were enemies.


"Poe and Publishing"
Tuesday, May 12 at 6:00 p.m. (I'll confirm the time later)
Boston Public Library (room TBD)
Sponsored by the Ticknor Society

In addition to his poetry and fiction, Poe was also an editor and magazine proprietor at a time when the publishing industry was changing and technology was rapidly improving. This lecture will discuss Poe's knowledge of the industry, his role in it, and how it changed around him - though, ultimately, he was never able to profit significantly from it.

More to come, I hope!

Poe the Critic (cont'd)

In the last post, I presented a little bit about Poe the critic. Regular readers of this blog will likely get a full helping of Poe's reputation as a critic as 2009 progresses. Here's a place to start.

On January 15, 1836, an editor for the Newbern Spectator expressed his disapproval of the criticism being printed in the Southern Literary Messenger in Virginia. The critic was Poe, of course, and the editor referred to Poe's "unnecessary severity". Poe would earn the nickname (and accompanying reputation) as a "Tomahawk" man.

It is really as a critic that Poe first becomes a well-known figure in American letters. He popularized (I won't say "created" because that's tough to prove) a new type of literary review which was (shockingly) based on sincerity on the part of the reviewer. These honest opinions were presented even if they were negative - which likely surprised readers used to the puffery system. This system, which fellow critic Margaret Fuller later referred to as the "mutual admiration society" (specifically in reference to Boston), was always positive. In other words, reviewers only wrote positive reviews.

People like Poe (and Fuller) took issue with this because it did not push for the betterment of American writing and instead allowed poor writing to pass unchallenged. Poe broke those rules because he couldn't stand the false compliments. Reading reviews of the day, as Poe said, would convince you that "all our poets are Miltons." Poe may have been a bit over-the-top in his criticism partly to add balance to the excessive praise.

On a personal note, I will be out of town celebrating Poe's big day (and doing some personal traveling) for the next week or so. If things are quiet on this blog it's because I've become too entranced in real-life Poe to spend time in my digital Poe world. My apologies in advance!

50 days

It's about 50 days away from the big day - January 19, 2009. My plans (right now) are to attend the first weekend of the "official" Edgar Allan Poe bicentennial celebration in Baltimore. The inimitable John Astin is reprising his impersonation of Poe himself. Tickets go on sale as of December 1, and I'm sure they will sell quickly (they tend to sell out anyway; this time around might just be quicker).

Other events are scheduled all over. Richmond is hosting a 24-hour birthday party at the Edgar Allan Poe Museum. Philadelphia has its own event planned, celebrating the grand re-opening of the Poe National Historic Site with refurbished house and brand new exhibits (and one-time equivalent of the Poet Laureate Daniel Hoffman). Shockingly, even the city of Poe's birth is taking part. Boston is infamous for its 199-year long snubbing of Poe but a small (and dedicated) group are trying to give him his due at Boston College. So, there are plenty of options as far as where to celebrate. Where will you be?

Just a reminder that you can spend all 365 days of 2009 celebrating Poe's 200th birthday... err, year. Click here to purchase your copy of the Poe bicentennial desk calendar.