Birth of the Broadway Journal

Charles Frederick Briggs and John Bisco signed a contract on December 23, 1844 to begin a new publication in New York. Only a couple weeks earlier, Briggs was struggling over what to name the new periodical. He settled on "The Broadway Journal."

Bisco was the brains that handled the business operations while Briggs utilized his established literary reputation to attract both contributors and readers. Briggs, however, was no fool and wanted an even bigger name to attract attention. He asked his close friend James Russell Lowell how to get in touch with Edgar Allan Poe.

The Broadway Journal rose and fell very quickly. Briggs and Bisco partnered with Poe because of his reputation — a reputation earned partly from "The Raven" but also from his harsh, relentless literary criticism. When Poe did the same sort of criticism for the Journal, Briggs was offended (particularly when Poe attacked Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, angering mutual friend J. R. Lowell).

The three business partners never quite came together. Briggs, who was also dealing with personal financial difficulties, attempted to buy out Bisco to take in more profit for himself. Instead, he abandoned the journal he helped start only about six months into the project. Poe considered selling his share of the company to another editor, a lion of New York periodicals named Evert Augustus Duyckinck, or the main proponent of copyright law Cornelius Mathews. Instead, he borrowed money from Horace Greeley and bought out John Bisco. As of October 1845, Poe was the sole owner of The Broadway Journal. Despite Poe's high hopes, the publication shut down with its January 3, 1846 issue (after which Poe vowed to start the Stylus, which never came to be).

Briggs continued to work in the publishing industry, editing several other magazines, journals, newspapers, and annuals. He had a somewhat long run on Putnam's Magazine, where he worked with notables like Parke Godwin (son-in-law of William Cullen Bryant) and George William Curtis. Little seems to be known about John Bisco outside his connection to Briggs and Poe.

Osgood's happy refinement

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poe vs. The Crazyites

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

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

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

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

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

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

In not the most gentle manner

Poe began a lecture tour on November 21, 1843 in Philadelphia. The broad topic was "The Poetry of America." This was an era of oratory and many writers knew that lectures and public readings would greatly boost their income. Other writers turned lecturers included James Russell Lowell, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and, of course, Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was so successful as a lecturer it qualifies as his full-time job.

The purpose of this particular lecture was for Poe to discuss the state of American poetry and his literary theories. However, he couldn't resist wielding his tomahawk as a critic. He focused on the poor taste of his critical rival Rufus Wilmot Griswold, whose book The Poets and Poetry of America was published a year earlier and was clearly referenced in the lecture title. One periodical later noted "this book and its author were handled by the critical Lecturer in not the most gentle manner" (what a great euphemism!).

This could be yet another minor reason why the two men would build a major rivalry/enmity for one another. It was shortly after this, in January 1844, that Griswold wrote to Poe about "some cause of personal quarrel with you, which you will easily remember."

One review later remarked that the lecture "placed all the pseudo-critics, the Rev. Mr. Rufus Griswold, Esq. among others, to the blush."

Poe's lecture in Philadelphia was very successful. The Saturday Museum noted it had "quite a large, and certainly highly intelligent audience." According to the United States Gazette, "hundreds" were turned away, "unable to gain admission." The Saturday Courier noted that "it was a very learned critique, marked by the severity of illustration for which the author is so ably known."

Over about four months, Poe also lectured on the same topic in Reading, Pennsylvania and Baltimore, as well as Wilmington and Newark, Delaware. He begins another lecture tour on a similar topic in 1845, culminating in his strange appearance at the Boston Lyceum.

For the love of God, Montresor!

What, another Friday the 13th? Well, in that case, here's a story about bad luck.

"The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge." Thus begins Poe's November 1846 tale "The Cask of Amontillado." These "insults" are never specified, nor are the "thousand injuries." Poe makes us focus not on the reasons for revenge, but on the revenge itself.

The narrator, Monstresor, strikes at Carnival, while his friend/enemy is dressed as a jester. He knows that Fortunato has two weaknesses: pride and wine. He uses both.

I said to him — "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day. But I have received a pipe* of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."

Fortunato, being a wine expert, could help Montresor identify whether or not a good purchase was made. But, what really convinces Fortunato to help is when Montresor suggests he could just ask Luchresi, who knows just as much about wine as Fortunato. Well, of course, the jester-clad Fortunato is insulted — "Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."

Montresor tricks Fortunato into coming down into his wine cellar, which is also the family catacombs. Surrounded by the dead, Montresor enacts his plan to "not only punish but punish with impunity." At the end of the tale, we are told that Montresor's final act of cruelty has not been discovered for a half century.

There are two important ways to read this story. For one thing, it's based on true events. Poe really was punishing with impunity after a thousand injuries and an insult (or two). Thomas Dunn English inspired Poe's act of literary revenge and, like the story says, his final act of cruelty (replacing English with Fortunato) is not discovered for decades. Many of the odd elements (the strange hand signal Fortunato gives, the odd family crest Montresor describes) were direct references to English's novel 1844, or the Power of the S. F. Poe was a character in this novel and was depicted, well, not nicely. So English, in response, was buried alive in a vault wearing a jester's outfit.

But, just looking at the story itself, it's very, very complex. As is often the case with Poe, we should question everything that is presented to us. Did Fortunato really injure or insult Montresor? The two seem to carry on a very convivial relationship through the vaults. There are a couple moments when Fortunato questions Montresor's sincerity (and we should too). Fortunato is suspicious at how far down into these crypts he's going and, doubtless, wondering how Montresor so quickly bought the (100+ gallons of) Amontillado, rushed it down here and came all the way back, to find his wine expert. But, perhaps, that is the most pressing question of all: Was there a wine expert in this story?

Fortunato notes that his competitor, Luchresi, cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry. Well Amontillado is Sherry. Fortunato comes onto the scene already drunk — it's hard to appreciate fine wine when drunk. When we do see him drink, he does not seem like a connoisseur. Presented with De Grâve, an expensive French wine, he doesn't seem to savor it. Instead, "he emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand." So, is Fortunato truly an expert on wine, or just an expert on drinking, if you know what I mean?

All this leads up to one of the best parts of this story: its humor. For a revenge tale and a horror story, "The Cask of Amontillado" is funny, and not just from the irony of the "unfortunate" victim's name. When Fortunato is affected by the damp air in the vaults, Montresor expresses concern over his health. "The cough is a mere nothing," he says. "It will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough." Montresor knows this: "'True — true,' I replied." When Fortunato asks if Montresor is of the Masons, Montresor says yes, and produces a trowel to prove it — the trowel he will use to bury his enemy alive. Now, that's funny.

*A "pipe" is over 100 gallons. This is a huge purchase.

**The picture at the top is by Harry Clarke, creator of some of the greatest Poe illustrations, circa 1919.

Autographs, cont'd

Continued from a very, very early post in Poe Calendar Blog history.

The October 29, 1841 issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer reviewed Poe's recent chapter on "Autography" — an unusual work in which Poe analyzed the signatures of well-known literary figures and described the authors' personality based on them. The review called the chapter, "The most singular, and at the same time, the most interesting article" in Graham's Magazine that month. It also caused quite a stir, as some of the authors were not pleased by Poe's characterization.

Though Poe's attempts at "autography" date back to 1836, the review likely referred to a revival of the idea in the November 1841 issue of Graham's. If you're curious how they'd cause a stir, keep in mind that Poe is not a trained handwriting analyst. In fact, he's really just looking for an excuse to give his personal opinion on these people (and their writing, but not their handwriting). Here are a few entries from that issue:

The MS. of Mr. IRVING has little about it indicative of his genius. Certainly, no one could suspect from it any nice finish in the writer's compositions; nor is this nice finish to be found. The letters now before us vary remarkably in appearance; and those of late date are not nearly so well written as the more antique. Mr. Irving has travelled much, has seen many vicissitudes, and has been so thoroughly satiated with fame as to grow slovenly in the performance of his literary tasks. This slovenliness has affected his hand-writing. But even from his earlier MSS. there is little to be gleaned, except the ideas of simplicity and precision. It must be admitted, however, that this fact, in itself, is characteristic of the literary manner, which, however excellent, has no prominent or very remarkable features.

Mr. BRYANT'S MS. puts us entirely at fault. It is one of the most common-place clerk's hands which we ever encountered, and has no character about it beyond that of the day-book and ledger. He writes, in short, what mercantile men and professional penmen call a fair hand, but what artists would term an abominable one. Among its regular up and down strokes, waving lines and hair-lines, systematic taperings and flourishes, we look in vain for the force, polish, and decision of the poet. The picturesque, to be sure, is equally deficient in his chirography and in his poetical productions.

Mr. HALLECK'S hand is strikingly indicative of his genius. We see in it some force, more grace, and little of the picturesque. There is a great deal of freedom about it, and his MSS. seem to be written currente calamo, but without hurry. His flourishes, which are not many, look as if thoughtfully planned, and deliberately, yet firmly executed. His paper is very good, and of a blueish tint — his seal of red wax.

Mr. WILLIS, when writing carefully, would write a hand nearly resembling that of Mr. Halleck ; although no similarity is perceptible in the signatures. His usual chirography is dashing, free, and not ungraceful, but is sadly deficient in force and picturesqueness.

It has been the fate of this gentleman to be alternately condemned ad infinitum, and lauded ad nauseam — a fact which speaks much in his praise. We know of no American writer who has evinced greater versatility of talent ; that is to say, of high talent, often amounting to genius ; and we know of none who has more narrowly missed placing himself at the head of our letters.

The paper of Mr. Willis's epistles is always fine and glossy. At present, he employs a somewhat large seal, with a dove, or carrier-pigeon, at the top, the word "Glenmary" at bottom, and the initials "N. P. W." in the middle.

H. W. LONGFELLOW, (Professor of Moral Philosophy* at Harvard,) is entitled to the first place among the poets of America — certainly to the first place among those who have put themselves prominently forth as poets. His good qualities are all of the highest order, while his sins are chiefly those of affectation and imitation — an imitation sometimes verging upon downright theft.

His MS. is remarkably good, and is fairly exemplified in the signature. We see here plain indications of the force, vigor, and glowing richness of his literary style; the deliberate and steady finish of his compositions. The man who writes thus may not accomplish much, but what he does, will always be thoroughly done. The main beauty, or at least one great beauty of his poetry, is that of proportion ; another, is a freedom from extraneous embellishment. He oftener runs into affectation through his endeavors at simplicity than through any other cause. Now this rigid simplicity, and proportion are easily perceptible in the MS., which, altogether, is a very excellent one.

Mrs. HALE is well known for her masculine style of thought. This is clearly expressed in her chirography, which is far larger, heavier, and altogether bolder than that of her sex generally. It resembles in a great degree that of Professor Lieber, and is not easily deciphered.

Mr. COOPER'S MS. is very bad — unformed, with little of distinctive character about it, and varying greatly in different epistles. In most of those before us a steel pen has been employed, the lines are crooked, and the whole chirography has a constrained and school-boyish air. The paper is fine, and of a bluish tint. A wafer is always used. Without appearing ill-natured, we could scarcely draw any inferences from such a MS. Mr. Cooper has seen many vicissitudes, and it is probable that he has not always written thus. Whatever are his faults, his genius cannot be doubted.

Mrs. E. F. ELLET has published one or two books, exclusively of a volume of poems, but is chiefly known to the literary world by her numerous contributions to the Magazines. As a translator from the Italian, she has acquired an enviable reputation. Her hand, of which the signature above scarcely conveys a full idea, is clear, neat, forcible and legible; just such a hand as one would desire for copying MSS. of importance. We have observed that the writers of such epistles as those before us, are often known as translators, but seldom evince high originality or very eminent talent of any kind.

Poe was ultimately just taking part of the kind of literary gossip that was making the periodical industry thrive, be it in Philadelphia or New York, though the latter city really perfectly celebrity author gossip. For the rest of his "Chapters on Autography," visit the Poe Society of Baltimore.

*Actually, he was the Smith Professor of Modern Languages.

Edgar Allan Poe is dead

Edgar Allan Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore the day before yesterday.
This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it. The poet was
well known personally or by reputation, in all this country. He had readers in
England and in several states of Continental Europe. But he had few or no
friends. The regrets for his death will be suggested principally by the
consideration that in him literary art lost one of its most brilliant, but
erratic stars.

Thus began the most famous literary obituary in American history. Those words, written by the Reverend Rufus Wilmot Griswold, were published on October 9, 1849, in the New York Tribune. Griswold's description of Poe as "erratic" with "few or no friends" who would not be grieved was coupled with some praise for his works, including "The Raven." Griswold noted, "As a writer of tales it will be admitted generally, that he was scarcely surpassed in ingenuity of construction or effective painting." Nevertheless, he added quickly, "As a critic, he was more remarkable as a dissector of sentences than as a commenter upon ideas. He was little better than a carping grammarian."

Originally signed "Ludwig," a portion of the obituary was plagiarized from The Caxtons by Edward Bulwer-Lyton, particularly Poe's characterization. People must not have picked up on the literary reference and the obituary was soon republished again and again. When confronted with the poor characterization by Sarah Helen Whitman, Griswold wrote, "I was not his friend, nor was he mine."

Much of this obituary, which took up an entire column on the front page of that issue, is fair, but interspersed with enough vitriol that readers should have been suspicious of its author's bias. Griswold went on to claim that he was Poe's literary executor — whether true or not — and continued to malign Poe's character while reaping financial benefit from publishing Poe's collected works. Though he promised profits would be distributed to Poe's surviving aunt Maria Clemm, that never happened.

Poe, already buried, was not able to defend himself. Instead, people like Nathaniel Parker Willis, Sarah Helen Whitman, George Rex Graham, and Thomas Holley Chivers. Even a pair of known enemies of Poe jumped to his posthumous defense: Charles Frederick Briggs and Thomas Dunn English (who particularly disputed that Poe was a drug user). But Griswold continued his assault, presenting Poe as a perpetual drunk with little literary talent, an angry critical hand, easy to anger, and with few friends. He relegated Poe's comedic works to a less important role and forced the horror tales to the forefront. He even made Poe's three-part name the new standard reference to the man.

Asking why Griswold did this is complicated and there is no satisfactory answer. Instead, of asking why, we should ask, how was he capable of doing this? The fact is Griswold was a major influence, and the strength of his influence is rarely acknowledged these days. Additionally, readers wanted to (and, let's be honest, readers still want to) believe that Poe was an awful person. A figure who is depressed, suicidal, a loner, an alcoholic, one who wanders the streets muttering at imagined phantoms — this is the Poe that we want.

Think of "The Tell-Tale Heart" being written by a normal person and it's less interesting. Think of the same for "The Black Cat," "The Pit and the Pendulum," and "The Cask of Amontillado." It has become impossible for Poeists like me to convince the world that Poe was a normal guy with normal problems. They want him to be fantastic, larger than life, a piece of mythology rather than a real human being. It's what sells his books today and it's what sold Griswold's collected works of Poe in 1850.

Should we give credit to Griswold for making sure he came to the forefront of antebellum American writing? Maybe. But he was just trying to sell a few books. Oh, in this obituary, Griswold also gave us the first published version of "Annabel Lee."

The libel suit, cont'd

Frequent readers of this blog may recall that Poe had brought a libel suit against Hiram Fuller, editor of the New York Mirror and the Evening Mirror. The trial was originally scheduled for September 7, 1846, though it would be postponed. Poe's lawsuit was in response to Fuller publishing a letter from Thomas Dunn English, though English himself was not named in the suit (likely because English didn't have money, but the publication did). Perhaps because of this, English assumed he was safe — so he continued his attacks on Poe.

On September 5, 1846, the Weekly Mirror included the seventh installment of English's serialized novel 1844, or, The Power of the "S. F." This seventh installment introduced a character named Marmaduke Hammerhead, a man described as:

a very well known writer... who aspires to be a critic, but never presumes himself a gentleman. He is the author of a poem, called 'The Black Crow,' now making some stir, in the literary circles... He never gets drunk more than five days out of the seven; tells the truth sometimes by mistake; has moral courage sufficient to flog his wife, when he thinks she deserves it.

In other words, as a trial inspired by English's libelous actions against Poe was about to begin, English continued libeling Poe. Most notably in this excerpt is the accusation that Poe was a wife-beater (at this time, Virginia Poe was an invalid in the last few months of her life).

The Mirror continued as well, apparently unconcerned about the libel suit and even made light of it. A filler published on September 10 included an epigram:

P— money wants to "buy a bed," —
His case is surely trying;
It must be hard to want a bed,
For one so used to lying.

Vindication for Poe would not come for a long time. The trial was delayed until February 1, 1847 (the day that Virginia Poe's obituary was published). Finally, on February 17, the Superior Court returned a verdict in Poe's favor, awarding him $225 in damages and additional court fees. These results were a bit controversial, with various newspapers taking one side or another. Hiram Fuller later published a defense in his own newspaper. But, what about Poe?

To him, it was more important for him to know that he was right, not to broadcast it to others. He left no public response to his victory nor to his shame caused by English and Fuller.

Or did he? Perhaps he left his last jest with no intention of ever taking credit for it. After all, true vindication for Poe was not merely to punish, but to punish with impunity, as he relates in a short story published a couple months after Marmaduke Hammerhead is introduced in English's novel 1844. That last example, readers might note, features a man taking revenge for unspecified insults. At the end of the tale, the narrator admits (boasts?) his revenge has not been discovered for 50 years.

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.

The libel suit, cont'd

Edgar Poe sued editors of the Weekly Mirror and its supplemental Evening Mirror, alleging libel. Poe had been accused of forgery and borrowing money under false pretenses. The defendants, editor Hiram Fuller and assistant editor Augustus W. Clason Jr., put in a plea of "not guilty" at the preliminary hearing, held August 4, 1846 at New York City Hall. The judge ordered a trial, scheduled for the first Monday in September.

The real source of the allegations against Poe was Thomas Dunn English, a trained medical doctor and licensed lawyer who would later go on to become a politician in New Jersey. In fact, the Mirror had only re-published English's accusations; his letter was first published in the Morning Telegraph. Sidney Moss, an expert on Poe's literary battles, conjectured that Poe was advised to go for the deepest pockets and win legally not for revenge but for vindication.

When Hiram Fuller heard Poe was considering bringing a lawsuit against him, Fuller actually challenged him to do it. He lied and said that English's letter was, in fact, a paid advertisement over which he had no responsibility (also untrue).

Word spread quickly of this public literary feud. Southern novelist William Gilmore Simms was concerned for Poe. A few days before the hearing, Simms wrote to Poe: "These broils do you no good—vex your temper, destroy your peace of mind, and hurt your reputation." Nevertheless, Poe's "Literati of New York" series kept getting published and Poe continued to make sometimes harsh judgments on his fellow writers. Hiram Fuller was kind enough to continue criticizing Poe, even as the trial for libel was pending. Fuller published in the Evening Mirror later in August that "Mr. Poe will go on with his pedantic skethces of our literati. His remarks on Mrs. [Lydia Maria] Child are evidently well intended. He describes her personal appearance with a flippant inaccuracy; it is possible that he has never seen her... His remarks about Mr. [Lewis Gaylord] Clark of the Knickerbocker are probably intended to be sarcastic, but sarcasm is Mr. Poe's weakness."

In the meantime, Thomas Dunn English (who, ultimately, was responsible for all this bickering) continued writing something of his own — a novel which would be published before the end of the year. More on that another time.

Poe sues for libel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

Longfellow damns censorious Poe

America's most beloved poet for the majority of the 19th century was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who was born this day, February 27, back in 1807. The relationship between Longfellow and Poe — if it can be called that — has become somewhat infamous. Poe made many strong statements against Longfellow (to put it lightly), and people today consider his "war" on Longfellow an example of Poe's declining mental health, a sign of his raging jealousy of successful poets, or of his endless enmity towards all things Boston.

Those superficial interpretations are great examples of how we oversimplify parts of Poe's life.

Poe and Longfellow never met face-to-face, though they certainly corresponded. As an editor, Poe contacted him to urge him to submit to Graham's Magazine (he did, but moreso under Poe's successor Rufus Griswold). Longfellow was one of the most popular poets of the day and, shortly after Poe's death, did what Poe was never able to do: sustain himself financially solely as a poet — no small feat!

Poe's criticism began as early as 1840, after Longfellow had published his collection Voices of the Night (unlike many poets of his generation, Longfellow generally released books of brand new poetry, rather than releasing piecemeal in magazines then collecting the so-called "fugitive" poems later; he had this option because he had a full-time job as a Harvard professor and didn't need constant money from his writing like Poe did). Poe noted that one particular poem in the collection was very similar to one by Lord Tennyson. He wrote (anonymously) of it as the "most barbarous class of literary robbery; that class in which, while the words of the wronged author are avoided, his most intangible, and therefore least defensible and least reclaimable property is purloined." The so-called "Longfellow War" continued with several accusations of plagiarism throughout the 1840s, especially in the Broadway Journal while Poe was its editor. It became such a heated feud that others, including James Russell Lowell and Margaret Fuller, jumped in and took sides (the former took Longfellow's, the latter took Poe's). The oddest to join in was the pseudonymous "Outis" (translates to "nobody") — which generally is agreed to be Poe himself as an attempt at keeping the spotlight a bit longer. But, even the friendly, non-confrontational Nathaniel Parker Willis noted that Longfellow was too free from criticism and that the controversy would "do him good to rouse him."

Critics or readers who think the Longfellow War is about plagiarism are overstating things. When Poe used the term "plagiarism," it didn't mean what it does today. In fact, it was the opposite of "originality." Like that quote above makes clear, it's not a word-for-word theft, but a theft of poetic ideas.

Poe was strung up as a bad guy in all of this, and critics and scholars today refer to it as Poe's attempt to destroy his own reputation — his "imp of the perverse," if you will. Others say it shows Poe was merely jealous of success, or he was inspired by his hatred of New England and the Boston elite literary circle. Even in Poe circles, there is no consensus and it still brings up debate. Longfellow, on the other hand, universally comes out squeaky clean, and didn't actually engage in the feud personally. After Poe's death, Longfellow noted that all was forgiven and called him "richly endowed with genius." He added, famously: "The harshness of his criticisms, I have never attributed to anything but the irritation of a sensitive nature, chafed by some indefinite sense of wrong."

Longfellow never publicly responded, but he did make an obscure response, which I have yet to see noted by Poe scholars. In his journal in 1845, Longfellow wrote a line in verse: "In Hexameter sings serenely a Harvard professor / In Pentameter him damns censorious Poe." Amidst these accusations of imitation, Longfellow carefully noted that this impromptu couplet was an imitation of another poem, thereby admitting his guilt as a plagiarist.

And it's quite true: Longfellow often lifted ideas from other poems. He was incredibly well-read and often paid homage to his influences. He wasn't ground-breaking as a poet; he did not significantly experiment with poetic structure or invent anything new. Instead, he went back to classic poems — especially European poems — and copied their meter. Remember, of course, that this was a time (the 1840s in particular) where we as Americans were really trying to define and create an American literature — Emerson asked for it, as did Lowell and Fuller. But, instead of trying to be distinctly American, Longfellow said he was trying to be "universal" (read: "European"). Poe, on the other hand, was part of this newly-developing world of American literature that, as Emerson said, aimed to be "free" from the "courtly muses of Europe."

So, was Poe right?

If anyone is interested, I will be speaking much more in-depth on "A War of the Words: Poe's Battle With Longfellow" on Thursday, April 9 at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education, Brattle Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts (the former home of Margaret Fuller!). The lecture is free and open to the public. Later, in October, I'll be making a similar presentation at the Poe Bicentennial Conference in Philadelphia.

In the meantime, I cheerily wish Henry Wadsworth Longfellow a happy 202nd birthday.

A day that will live in infamy

It was February 13, 1815, that one of the most despised figures in the story of Poe was born.

The man's name is Rufus Wilmot Griswold, and he was born humbly to a farming family in Vermont, thirty-five years before he destroyed the reputation of Edgar Poe (and stuck the name "Edgar Allan Poe" firmly in the mouths of his readers). Young Griswold was the twelfth of fourteen children but he didn't last long in this family and broke ties at age 15 to become a wanderer. He called himself a "solitary soul, wandering through the world, a homeless, joyless outcast." Throughout his life, he would live throughout Vermont, New York, Philadelphia, and even South Carolina intermittently.

At some point, Griswold decided he wanted to become the world's leading expert on the history of American literature. He claimed to have read every American book worth reading - amassing a library of hundreds and thousands of books over time. His anthology in 1842, The Poets and Poetry of America, was written intentionally as a chronicle of American poetry's development. His introduction alone was successful in this attempt (and worthwhile reading), as he traced the origins of poetry in the New World from colonization to Independence to his contemporary time. More than anything, he tried to show that we still needed to continue growing and improving.

But, far from being solely a scholarly work, Griswold directly appealed to the masses of mainstream poetry readers. Poetry was a huge entertainment in these days (we can't even begin to imagine the "family fun" of reading together by the fireplace), and Griswold took advantage even before his book's title page. Not leaving book sales to chance, he included an illustration that has been called "The Copperplate Five": images of the five top-selling poets of the day all in one image. The big five were: William Cullen Bryant, Fitz-Greene Halleck, Charles Sprague, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, all topped by the idol-like image of Richard Henry Dana (did you guess wrong?).

The work instantly cemented Griswold as an important literary historian and an arbiter of taste in American poetry. The book sold immensely well and inspired many, many future editions (including posthumous ones) throughout the 19th century - I happen to own a third edition, in fact. Its success also spurned "sequels" of sorts, with titles like Gems from American Poets, The Prose Writers of America, and The Female Poets of America (which, he believed, required a separate book because men and women writers could not be judged equally).

The Poets and Poetry of America also connected Griswold to a man named Edgar Poe for the first time. Three of Poe's poems were included in the first edition, and Griswold asked Poe (being such an influential critic) to write a review... But, that is a story for another day.

Today, we remember Griswold, the man, whose birth this day 194 years ago today showed signs of promise. As he aged and his career progressed, he became an important figure in the story of American writing. What he would do with his fame and influence, of course, would be completely up to him, be it for good... or evil?