In Memoriam: Thomas Holley Chivers

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

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

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

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

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

Rest in peace, Dr. Chivers.

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

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.

In Memoriam: Washington Irving

I almost missed an important anniversary today but, in fairness, the event in question happened ten years after Poe's death.

In fact, it's somewhat ironic that Washington Irving was laid to rest this day in 1859 in the now-famous Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in New York. By rights, Poe should have outlived him. Irving was the very first true American man of letters — the original, if you will. He was early enough that he even met George Washington himself (his namesake) while a young tyke. In fact, Irving's first major work, A History of New York by "Deidrich Knickerbocker," was published the same year that Poe was born. Poe, then, was really part of a second wave of American writers (Irving was old enough to be friends with Poe's foster-father). Irving remained active during Poe's career, of course, though Poe called him overrated and said he had gotten lazy as a writer after achieving so much fame.

And to say he achieved fame is an understatement. This was a man who befriended presidents and royalty alike. His funeral, three days after his death by heart attack on November 28, put an entire nation in mourning for the loss of its original literary son.

I don't have too much to say on the subject of Irving's funeral, partly because I couldn't say it any better than Brian Jay Jones did on his blog. Brian is the author of the best modern biography of Irving, appropriately titled Washigton Irving: An American Original, which I happen to consider the single most readable biography out there. Now that it's December, I'm sure people are thinking of good Christmas gifts — how about a book on the American writer who had the greatest influence on our "traditional" modern Christmas?

Poe's role in World War II

What does World War II have to do with Edgar Allan Poe? Well, that's easy: Poe helped win the war.

Even if you're a big Poe fan, you might not have heard of William F. Friedman, who died on November 12, 1969 (his headstone at Arlington National Cemetery reads "knowledge is power"). Friedman was one of Poe's many admirers. Born in 1891, Friedman was very young when introduced to Poe's short story "The Gold-Bug." Fascinated by the story's plot device of secret writing, Friedman was inspired to study cryptography and codes. As an adult, he wrote papers on Poe and cryptography, and often analyzed literature (Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, etc.) for coded messages. He eventually came to be known as one of America's greatest code-breakers.

During World War II, Japan was using a formidable form of code known as PURPLE. It was Friedman who went to work on deciphering this difficult, machine-made code. After months (and months) of studying, Friedman and his team were able to build a replica of Japan's PURPLE machine — without ever having seen the original. He named his machine MAGIC. The work was so intense he had a nervous breakdown after its completion. Nevertheless, Friedman and his team had succeeded, and now the American military had cracked Japan's code.

Years later, Friedman became the chief cryptologist for the National Security Agency and was inducted into the Military Intelligence Hall of Fame. And he owes it all to "The Gold-Bug" and Edgar Poe.

Death of Poe

On October 7, 1849, Edgar Poe died. He was 40 years old. Thus ended his struggle for financial success, his foibles (whatever they were), and his genius. Thus begins his greatest mystery.

Perhaps it is fitting (or ironic, depending on your point of view) that the man who invented the modern detective story left such a strange question unanswered: What killed Edgar Poe?

Rising to the challenge, several have offered their theories — some inspired by personal bias, others based on scientific evidence; some a posthumous attempt to malign his character, others an attempt at further fictionalizing the man's already-fascinating story. Besides the cooping theory, and the theory that Poe was drugged/beaten by the brothers of Sarah Elmira Royster, there have been suggestions that Poe was murdered (some even dare to suggest Rufus Griswold) or that he committed suicide. I tend to disagree with those violent suggestions (and even the quote from Baudelaire that says Poe's death was a suicide which was long time in coming).

Is it mundane to think that Poe died of medical reasons? Perhaps it is too simple for people that want a more titillating story but the reality seems to be that people were more likely to die by disease than violence in the 19th century (excluding the Civil War). If Poe's death was because of a medical condition, theories include the following (deep breath): diabetes, epilepsy, tuberculosis, heart attack or heart disease, brain tumor, carbon monoxide poisoning, arsenic, lead poisoning, alcohol poisoning (still popular despite contrary evidence), cholera, syphilis, meningitis, and rabies.

Rabies? Yes, and for a time the theory had fairly substantial support. Though most biographies mention the cooping theory, it seems few take it seriously and many point to medical theories instead.

Regardless, one of the greatest imaginations in all of American writing died this day in 1849. Though his death remains a mystery, I am thankful to know that I can enjoy his works any time. It is unfortunate that today, for the first time in about five years, I will not be able to visit Poe at his grave in Baltimore (his original burial plot is today marked, as shown in the photo above).

*As a footnote, on this same day 45 years later, fellow bicentennial poet Oliver Wendell Holmes died. He was 85 years old.

Poe stays sober

Perhaps the biggest event in Poe's life which inspired this blog, what occurred on August 27, 1849 continues to surprise casual readers of Poe who thought they already knew all about the man...

On August 27, 1849, Edgar A. Poe pledged to abstain from alcohol and stay sober indefinitely. It was a Monday evening when he was initiated into the Shockoe Hill Division (no. 54) of the Sons of Temperance, sworn in by William J. Glenn. Speculation has raged as far as how serious Poe was about this pledge. He had to have been somewhat committed to the idea, if only because membership required a fee. He may have done it to impress a potential second wife he was courting in Richmond (more on her another time) or, as biographer Kenneth Silverman speculates, "the effects of his drinking... had frightened him." A few days earlier, after one of his (rare but excessive) binges, a doctor suggested that drinking would kill him.

The reality is that throughout his life, Poe was aware of the problems that alcohol caused him, and he often made an effort to avoid drinking. Extant letters show updates Poe gave to friends and family about his efforts. But, even if we can't trust Poe's first-hand claims, other accounts do exist. For example, one friend reported that Poe went a full eighteen months* without a single drop of alcohol while living and working in Philadelphia. This undisputed account lends serious evidence against the prevalent image of Poe as a perpetual drunk. His joining the Sons of Temperance in 1849 may have been a final declaration that he would win his battle against alcoholism.

What really would have helped Poe stick to being sober this time? I'd speculate that Poe hoped the special nature of his pledge would make a difference: His membership was very public and, within three weeks, several newspapers were reporting about it in Richmond, Raleigh, Philadelphia, and Boston. Temperance advocates considered Poe's membership a great victory and a boon to their cause as they hoped he would lend his pen to the movement. One wrote, "We trust his pen will sometimes be employed in its behalf. A vast amount of good might be accomplished by so pungent and forcible a writer." Poe, in fact, had already written two temperance tales, of a sort: "The Black Cat" and the humorous "The Angel of the Odd." Writing was important to the group as a form of propoganda to get the word out about their movement; the Sons of Temperance would soon even create their own literary journal (edited by T. S. Arthur, author of Ten Nights in a Bar-Room).

The fact that Poe vowed to stay sober has led to further confusion over his final days right before his mysterious death — which will occur less than two months after taking his temperance pledge.

Perhaps ironically, August 27 is also the anniversary of the death of one of the many responsible for exaggerating Poe's drinking habits. Rufus Wilmot Griswold died this day in 1857 at the age of 42.

* There does not seem to be any question over the veracity of this statement. Give Poe credit for what he was doing: Poe kept his alcoholism in check before it was considered a disease, before self-help books, before AA meetings, etc. By the way, the image above is from a great online exhibit by the Library Company of Philadelphia called "Ardent Spirits."

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 tale of two sailors

Herman Melville was born August 1, 1819 in New York City, just over ten years after Poe's birth. The two would never cross paths but they certainly have connections. Both were under-appreciated during their lifetime, especially for works they were particularly proud of (Moby-Dick for Melville, Eureka: A Prose Poem for Poe, for example). Both made substantial enemies, both literary and personal, and died relatively miserable. Most importantly, both were interested in the sea.

Melville's connection to the ocean is more obvious than Poe's; Melville served as a sailor and for a time lived amongst a cannibalistic tribe — an experience which would inspire his popular book Typee. That particular voyage left from New Bedford, Massachusetts in 1841 — three years after Poe published his own novel featuring a character named Arthur Gordon Pym who takes to the sea and later finds himself among a cannibalistic tribe. The literary connections between Melville and Poe don't end there. Though speculative, it's all but certain that Melville's white whale was largely inspired by the symbolism of the color white in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. Additionally, Poe and Melville were part of a subgenre of literature known as "Dark Romanticism" — a direct response to the Romantic movement's optimism and faith in the human experience (the third major Dark Romantic writer was Nathaniel Hawthorne, who easily connects to both Poe and Melville). I will be speaking about Poe's influence on Melville some time in September at New Bedford; date to be determined.

Perhaps ironically, August 1 has another interesting maritime connection. That date, in 1831, marked the death of William Henry Leonard Poe, the often-forgotten older brother of Edgar, who died of tuberculosis at age 24. In his short life, WHL Poe had traveled the world as a sailor. As a crewman aboard the frigate USS Macedonian, WHL Poe made it to South America, the West Indies, the Mediterranean, and Russia — all before the age of 20. When he returned to the United States, he became a writer (relatively unsuccessful; one notable work fictionalizes his younger brother's first true romance). After his death, WHL Poe was buried at Westminster Abbey in the Poe family plot (near where Edgar Poe was originally buried in 1849). Some say that the character of August Barnard in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym might have been inspired by WHL Poe.

RIP, William Henry Leonard Poe... and happy birthday, Melville. Smooth sailing to you both.

The Beautiful Cigar Girl

A shocking discovery was made in Hoboken, New Jersey on July 28, 1841: the body of Miss Mary Cecilia Rogers was found floating in the Hudson River. Rogers, a cigar salesgirl in Manhattan, had only gone missing a couple days prior. The discovery of her body confirmed suspicions that she was murdered.

Known for her good looks, she was nicknamed "The Beautiful Cigar Girl." Her boss, John Anderson, had hired her specifically because of that "skill" and asked her to exchange "teasing glances" with his customers. Likely because of this, she had many admirers — including some who published poems about her. She also likely met literary figures like James Fenimore Cooper, Washington Irving, and Fitz-Greene Halleck.

On July 25, 1841, Rogers informed Daniel Payne, her fiancé, that she was going away to visit family; she immediately fell off the radar. When her murdered body was found three days later, she made national headlines. Her fiancé killed himself (using poison) as the investigation went on. The case remains unsolved but speculation includes gang violence and a failed abortion (or, the genteel euphemism, "premature delivery").

Edgar A. Poe, who might have met Rogers at Anderson's cigar store, picked up the mystery too. Reviving his character C. Auguste Dupin, introduced in 1841's "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," Poe fictionalized the Rogers case in "The Mystery of Marie Rogêt," published partly in 1842 and partly in 1843 Now set in Paris, the murder victim worked in a perfume shop and the armchair detective Dupin uses newspaper reports to solve the case. Well, even in fiction, the case is never solved concretely.

"The Mystery of Marie Rogêt" is often critically panned and, ultimately, is the least well-done of Poe's three main detective tales (the third being the fantastic story "The Purloined Letter"). One 20th-century critic called "Marie Rogêt" a "tedious exercise in reasoning" only interesting to "a professional student of analytics." Of course, this was not Poe's first attempt at fictionalizing a real-life tragedy. Much earlier — 1835, to be exact — Poe published the beginnings of his only play, Politian. The play remains unfinished but is based on the so-called "Kentucky Tragedy."

*The image above is taken from the very interesting section on Rogers/Rogêt at the Poe Forward web site.

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).

Mrs. Shelton is widowed

Alexander Barrett Shelton died of pneumonia at the age of 37 on July 12, 1844 in Richmond, Virginia. He left behind his widow, Sarah Elmira Shelton, and two children — as well as an estate valued at $100,000 (in 1844 dollars, equal to about $2.2 million today). He made his fortune in the transportation industry as the co-owner of a substantial boat route along the James River.

Poe met the widow when she was still Sarah Elmira Royster. At age 15/16, Poe and Elmira (as he called her) spent much of their free time together in Richmond, becoming childhood sweethearts. In 1825, the couple seems to have gotten secretly engaged right before Poe entered the University of Virginia. While at school, Poe sent several letters to his beloved and got more and more anxious when she never responded to any of them. In reality, her father had intercepted the letters and destroyed them before they could be read. Elmira thought Poe had forgotten her and, in 1827, she married Alexander Shelton instead.

The loss of Poe's first relationship inspired several fictionalizations. Baltimore author Lamber A. Wilmer wrote a dramatic poem called Merlin on the relationship. Poe's older brother William Henry Leonard Poe (who seems to have made off with all the middle names while his two younger siblings received none) also fictionalized the romance in a short story called "The Pirate." Poe himself seems to express his emotions in his poems "The Happiest Day" and "Song." The latter seems to make a direct reference to Elmira's marriage to Alexander Shelton; the poem begins: "I saw thee on thy bridal day."

Years later, in 1848, Poe and Elmira met in Richmond again. By then, both were widows (Poe lost his wife Virginia three years after the death of Mr. Shelton). They seem to have almost instantly rekindled their relationship and Poe proposed marriage (again). Elmira carefully considered this; according to Shelton's will, re-marrying would strip her of one-third of her $100,000 inheritance. Her children also clearly did not approve, just as her father had not approved decades earlier. Yet, she clearly was drawn to Poe...

What happens next is a bit unclear. But, that is a discussion for a later date, perhaps a day in September?

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.

Hawthorne, Poe, Brook Farm, and Ripley

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

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

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

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

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

In memoriam: C. F. Briggs

Charles Frederick Briggs died today, June 20, in 1877. Who is C. F. Briggs, you ask?

A former sailor from Nantucket, Massachusetts, Briggs became moderately famous with his novel The Adventures of Harry Franco. Later, Briggs decided to enter the world of literary journalism. In December 1844, Briggs wrote to James Russell Lowell: "I have made arrangements for publishing the first number of my long talked of paper in January." He partnered with John Bisco and the publication was named The Broadway Journal.

It seems like Lowell was the real intermediary between Briggs and Poe (Lowell and Briggs were close enough that Lowell's 1848 book-length satirical poem A Fable for Critics was dedicated to Briggs, who also was given all its profits). Through a letter dated December 12, 1844, Lowell "introduced" the two. Briggs brought Poe into the fold as a contributor (his first contribution was a review of Elizabeth Barrett) but eventually tapped him as a business partner. Poe became one-third owner before both Bisco and Briggs jumped ship. Their departure made The Broadway Journal the only publication Poe ever owned, though it was a short-lived honor.

Despite their business partnership, Briggs and Poe cannot be considered friends. Briggs was trying to pressure Poe out of the journal as early as May 1845; instead, he gave up and left (as much because of Bisco as Poe). "I refused to do anything more with the journal," he wrote to Lowell by July 16. He also spread rumors of Poe's drinking (Poe had recently turned to the bottle after 18 months as a teetotaler) and referred to him as having a "characterless character" who was "utterly deficient of high motive."

Not that Poe was the good guy here either; he took a few stabs at his former business partner in print, including a mention in his infamous "Literati of New York" series. As he wrote, "Mr. Briggs has never composed in his life three consecutive sentences of grammatical English. He is grossly uneducated." Briggs responded by spreading rumors that Poe was in an insane asylum and noted that Poe is struck with "infirmities of mind and body." He also turned Poe into a satirical character in his serialized novel The Trippings of Tom Pepper.

I have recently found evidence that Briggs was buried on Staten Island. He's now on my "must-visit" list. RIP, "Harry Franco."

The scandalous Elizabeth F. Ellet

Elizabeth F. Ellet is the female equivalent of Rufus W. Griswold: jealous, petty, cruel, and an instigator who lashed out against others without reason. For example, she threw herself into the strange "affair" between Frances Sargent Osgood and Poe, for whom she had a romantic interest. After tricking Mrs. Virginia Poe into showing her some of Mrs. Osgood's letters, she suggested to Mrs. Osgood that their contents would lead to shameful scandal. Though today, most accounts suggest that the flirtation between Osgood and Poe was purely innocent, she was convinced to have Poe destroy the letters. A minor controversy ensued which involved Margaret Fuller, Anne Lynch, and Ellet's pistol-wielding brother (which eventually also pulled in Thomas Dunn English — but that story will be told here later this summer). Mr. Samuel Osgood accused Ellet of scandal-mongering, but she placed the blame squarely on Mr. and Mrs. Poe. Virginia died in 1847 and at least one friend suggested Ellet's forced scandal exacerbated her illness such that it could be claimed "Mrs. E. had been her murderer." Griswold, of course, was involved as well — he also had a crush on Osgood; she even dedicated a book to him.

But, if you think that controversy was confusing, nothing compares to what Ellet did to Rufus Griswold.

Griswold was not a nice man, certainly, but there are a few incidents that beg sympathy. In 1852, he broke off a loveless marriage with his second wife, Charlotte Myers (their relationship is still confusing) so that he could marry a woman named Harriet McCrillis. Ellet stepped in and urged Myers (a complete stranger) not to grant the divorce and for McCrillis (a complete stranger) not to marry Griswold. Nevertheless, the divorce was made official and Griswold married McCrillis. Ellet did not quit.

She continued writing to Myers, urging her to seek a repeal of the divorce. Myers gave in and the matter was to be brought before the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas. While awaiting the court date, Griswold's house caught fire, leaving him brutally disfigured; he lost his eyebrows, eyelashes, and seven of his fingernails to the fire. In 1856, the Court date arrived and neither Myers nor Griswold bothered to show up — but Mrs. Ellet did, serving as a character witness against Griswold. The divorce was not repealed, but Griswold's third wife Harriet McCrillis left him amidst the public scandal over the possible bigamy — she never saw her husband again before his death from tuberculosis in 1857. Shortly before his death, Griswold published a pamphlet to publicly address the scandal, Statement of the Relations of Rufus W. Griswold with Charlotte Myers (called Charlotte Griswold) [and] Elizabeth F. Ellet... With Particular Reference to Their Late Unsuccessful Attempt to Have Set Aside the Decree Granted in the Case of Griswold vs. Griswold. One friend suggested that Ellet had "goaded Griswold to his death."

Frankly, there was no apparent reason why Ellet got involved in Griswold's romantic life. She did not seem to exhibit any romantic feelings towards him (her messages to Poe were more than clear, if not sultry). Griswold had always treated her well in his criticism and even helped her publish her popular book The Women of the American Revolution (1845). Ellet deserves no more complicated a description than "a bad person."

Nevertheless, rest in peace, Elizabeth. She died this day, June 3, in 1877. Today she is buried in Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn — the same cemetery where lies Rufus Griswold.

In memory of Nathaniel Hawthorne

On May 19, 1864, the American novelist and tale-writer Nathaniel Hawthorne died while traveling with his friend, former President Franklin Pierce. Hawthorne, like Poe, often wrote of the darker side of human nature, revealing lives of guilt, sin, and temptation. In 1842, long before Hawthorne would write many of the novels for which we remember him today, Poe noted that his skill relates "to the highest region of Art—an Art subservient to genius of a very lofty order." Perhaps the greatest bit of praise from Poe, who perpetually accused writers of ripping off the ideas of others, was when he noted that Hawthorne's "originality both of incident and of reflection is very remarkable."

As Poe prepared his dream journal, The Stylus, he tapped Hawthorne as a contributor to its first issue. Hawthorne agreed, to the tune of $5 a page, and even offered an engraved portrait created by his wife, the talented Sophia Peabody Hawthorne. In this case, it was not Poe's plans that stalled the first issue of The Stylus, originally slated for June 1843 release, but Hawthorne — who had difficulty writing. He noted that the summer left him with "no more brains than cabbage." Finally, Poe gave up as well, at least temporarily, when a financial supporter backed off suddenly. Poe wrote, "my Magazine scheme has exploded—or, at least, I have been deprived, through the idiocy of my partner, of all means of prosecuting it for the present."

Hawthorne and Poe continued an occasional correspondence throughout the 1840s, and Poe continued reviewing Hawthorne's work. Eventually, as Poe became more well-known as a critic, his reviews became harsher. Though he continued to believe Hawthorne was one of the greatest—though most underappreciated—American writers, Poe was disappointed by his fellow scribe's reliance on morality. Poe, of course, hated didacticism (part of his argument against Henry Wadsworth Longfellow), and Hawthorne's work is full of it. In fact, his morals beat you over the head as strongly as Roger Chillingworth whipped himself in The Scarlet Letter (published the year after Poe's death).

Hawthorne seemed to enjoy Poe's work as well — though, not all of it. In a letter to Poe dated June 17, 1846, Hawthorne gave his frank and amiable opinion:

I have read your occasional notices of my productions with great interest—not so much because your judgment was, upon the whole, favorable, as because it seemed to be given in earnest. I care for nothing but the truth; and shall always much more readily accept a harsh truth, in regard to my writings, than a sugared falsehood.

I confess, however, that I admire you rather as a writer of tales than as a critic upon them. I might often—and often do—dissent from your opinions in the latter capacity, but could never fail to recognize your force and originality, in the former.

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.

The death of Poe's first love

185 years ago today, Poe's first love died. Or so they say.
Mrs. Jane Stith Craig Stanard died April 28, 1824, when Poe was only 15 years old. He met her through a Richmond classmate named Robert Stanard. Mrs. Stanard was a bit of an eccentric, prone to bouts of melancholy, and gradually went insane before her death.

Poe had likely known her for only a year or so but he was instantly struck by her. Sarah Helen Whitman later wrote: "This lady, on entering the room, took [Poe's] hand and spoke some gentle and gracious words of welcome, which so penetrated the heart of the orphan boy as to depireve him of the power of speech, and, for a time, almost of consciousness itself." Poe himself wrote to Whitman that Stanard was "the first purely ideal love of my soul." To friend Marie Louise Shew (who cared for Poe's wife Virginia on her deathbed), he wrote that she was "the truest, tenderest of this world's most womanly souls, and an angelt o my forlorn and darkened nature."

After her death, Poe is said to have often visited her grave at Shockoe Hill Cemetery (where his foster-mother Frances Allan would later be laid to rest). Her death was the second instance of a woman whom he loved dying in her prime (the first, of course, being his young mother Eliza Poe when he was an infant). Though some scholars have credited Stanard's death to tuberculosis, and thus part of a long series of consumptive women in Poe's life, this is not true; the "death-like sickness" she suffered has not been identified. Still, Stanard seems to have cemented the idea that the death of a beautiful woman was the most poetical topic in the world; Poe's first poem to carry the title "To Helen" was dedicated to her.

But, really, let's call a spade a spade. This isn't head over heels love. The woman was married and far too old for him (literally twice his age). This "love" was likely little more than puppy love, a boyhood crush or, perhaps, idolatry to take the place of his missing birth mother. In fact, Poe's mother-in-law/aunt Maria Clemm later wrote, "It is true dear Eddie did love Mrs. Stannard [sic] with all the affection devotion of a son. When he was unhappy at home (which was very often the case) he went to her for sympathy, and she always consoled and comforted him." Whatever the "relationship," Poe was very affected by her death.

"To Helen" (1831)

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfum'd sea,
The weary way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the beauty of fair Greece,
And the grandeur of old Rome.

Lo! in that little window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand!
The folded scroll within thy hand —
A Psyche from the regions which
Are Holy land!

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.

John Allan: Self-Made Man?

One of the reasons why John Allan may have had tension with his foster-son Edgar Poe was finances. Allan probably never approved of Poe's pursuit of literature, and definitely not his poetry. In one letter to Allan, Poe swears that he's given up on his "Byronic" pursuits (he didn't give up poetry, just his influence from Byron). Allan, as a successful merchant, believed in good business decisions, and Poe was taking a huge risk trying to be a writer. Be a self-made man, Allan would say, just like me.

Of course, Allan wasn't a self-made man.

His mercantile business, Ellis & Allan, did moderately well, though they lost substantial money when they tried to open an overseas branch in England (generally, Poe's five years growing up in England, from age 6 to 11, are shockingly ignored by people trying to determine or replicate his accent). Shortly after, by mutual consent, Ellis & Allan disbanded. So where did Allan's money come from?

Allan really hit it big when William Galt died on March 26, 1825. The Allans, unable to afford their own home, were living charitably in a house owned by "Uncle" William at the time. John Allan, William Galt, and adopted son James Galt were having tea and pancakes that day when, as Allan wrote, "suddenly [William Galt] threw back his head & eyes and seemed oppressed." Galt was dead.

He was also the wealthiest man in Virginia at the time. His home was on 15 square miles of land and he owned real estate in Richmond and Lynchburg, plantations throughout Virginia, sawmills, stock in the Bank of Virginia, and hundreds of slaves.

To John Allan, Galt left in his will about 4,040 acres of land — an estate estimated at $750,000. Almost immediately, Allan purchased a new home: a two-story brick structure with wraparound porches, situated at the top of a hill and commanding tremendous views of the city. Inside, a mirrored ballroom with a hand-carved mantel, a wide mahogany stairway, and an octagonal dining room were fitted with the expensive and extravagant furniture, decor, and artwork. The house was valued at $14,950 (about a quarter million dollars today), located at Fifth and Main Streets — the Moldavia estate would likely inspire "The Fall of the House of Usher." It is no longer standing and only a couple images (including the one at right) are known to exist. Edgar Poe was 16 years old at the time.

John Allan never had to worry about money again. In the years that followed, the struggling Poe would beg for money from his "Pa." Allan only occasionally complied and, almost always, offered less than Poe requested. He was such a scrooge, in fact, he often responded to Poe's letters by flipping them over and writing on the back (as if he couldn't afford his own sheet?). When he died, he excluded his foster-son in his will. But, more on that another time.