A Christmas wedding... almost

Edgar Allan Poe and Sarah Helen Whitman had planned a Christmas wedding on December 25, 1848. Whitman (no relation to Walt, though the two corresponded frequently) was an accomplished and well-known poet from Providence, Rhode Island. A widow, she was six years older than Poe. She was also an ancillary member of the Transcendentalists, a friend of Margaret Fuller, and an admitted disciple of Ralph Waldo Emerson — all of which Poe did not much care for.

Nevertheless, Poe and Whitman hit it off rather well (even despite a possible suicide attempt while Poe was wooing a married woman) and he proposed to her in a cemetery. Whitman, however, was relatively wealthy and her family was concerned Poe was trying to marry her for her money. Undaunted, the couple signed an agreement waiving their rights to inheritance. To further show his commitment, Poe also promised Whitman he would give up drinking — which he almost certainly did.

Poe arrived in Providence on December 20 and, that evening, gave a lecture on poetry at the Franklin Lyceum. Whitman was in the front row and when Poe recited Edward Coote Pinkney's "A Health," he seemed to be directing it right at her ("I fill this cup to one made up of loveliness alone"). Impressed, she agreed to an immediate marriage. Poe called for Reverend Nathan Bourne Crocker, minister of St. John's Episcopal Church. Poe wrote to Maria Clemm (then in New York): "We shall be married on Monday."

A couple days before the wedding, however, Whitman was sitting in a library when an anonymous note was passed to her. According to the note, Poe had broken his promise to stay sober. Though Poe tried to tell her she had been "misinformed," Whitman called off the wedding and Poe immediately left Providence. They never saw each other again. Their marriage was so close to happening, however, that the couple was congratulated in newspapers throughout the country.

Poe did not stay upset for very long. Soon, he lined up another engagement to a different woman.

After Poe's death, Whitman got Rufus Griswold to confess he had written Poe's libelous obituary. She later published a book defending Poe.

I was not his friend, nor he mine

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

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

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

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

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

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

Return good for evil

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poe's brother, The Pirate

The Baltimore North American Review published a short story titled “The Pirate” by William Henry Leonard Poe, Edgar’s older brother, on October 27, 1827. The story was based on Edgar’s young, tragic romance with Sarah Elmira Royster. Henry, as he called himself, published several poems in his short life and even occasionally submitted the poetry of his younger brother — though they were often credited to the wrong Poe. There has been some debate about some of the Poes' early poetry, as far as who wrote which.

Less than four years after the publication of "The Pirate," William Henry Leonard Poe died. He was 24 years old.

Henry had served as a sailor for a time but his life was cut short due to tuberculosis, but most biographers are quick to point out that his illness was exacerbated by alcoholism. In fact, the little we are told about Henry is almost always used as a way to better understand Edgar Poe.

Admiring his brother's exploits, Poe later made claims that he traveled to exotic lands (just like Henry). He set many of his prose works at sea, including his only complete novel The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. Poe was deeply affected by the various tuberculoid figures in his life, including his brother. And, like his brother, he turned to drinking when times were tough.

Edgar once wrote: "there can be no tie more strong than that of brother for brother — it is not so much that they love one another as that they both love the same parent." For a time, Edgar used the alias "Henri Le Rennet," incorporating a French version of his older brother's first name. The strangest speculation comes from biographer Jeffrey Meyers, who says the name "Lenore" was a transformation of "William Henry Leonard."

It's all very poetic. But it's also making speculative leaps to connect the dots. How much do we really know about William Henry Leonard Poe? We don't even know what he looked like; no image of him has been identified.

Hirst and Poe: Rollicking companions

After Poe's death, Maria Clemm believed much of the negative things written about Poe by Rufus Wilmot Griswold, partly because Griswold had evidence to prove it. It turns out, however, that Griswold forged many of the documents that served as back-up for his concerted character assassination on Poe. Reading Griswold's lies, Maria Clemm lamented: "To think of that villain Griswold dragging before the public all my poor Eddie's faults and not to have the generosity of speaking one word of his good qualities."

That's why Maria Clemm was particularly grateful to the people who came forward in defense of Poe. One such defender was Henry B. Hirst, a friend from Philadelphia. Clemm wrote to him (using black-bordered "mourning" stationary) on October 23, 1849, thanking him for his kind words. As she wrote, "God bless you for doing justice to the memory of my own dear Eddie."

Henry Hirst is a strange character in the study of Poe. The two were introduced in Philadelphia some time in the summer of 1839 (by, of all people, Thomas Dunn English). The two became friends during Poe's tenure in Philadelphia. Though a minor poet at best, Hirst did his best to make money from writing. He even wrote a biography of Poe, published in 1843, in the Philadelphia Saturday Museum. He also reviewed (rather caustically) Griswold's The Poets of Poetry of America in that same newspaper. Poe's own published reviews of Hirst's poetry isn't particularly flattering, though he also accused T. D. English of plagiarizing from Hirst. Poe also though Hirst was stealing his own poetry, but those accusations weren't published in Poe's lifetime ("I do not object to him stealing my verses," Poe wrote; "but I do object to his stealing them in bad grammar. My quarrel with him is not, in short, that he did this thing, but that he has went and done did it."). In fact, Hirst at one point suggested that he was the true author of "The Raven" (who wasn't trying to steal Poe's thunder?), the only evidence being that he owned a pet raven for a time (well, so did Dickens).

Later, after Poe's death, Hirst became a heavy drinker, and it was well-known that he was addicted to absinthe, and soon went insane. The association between Poe and Hirst, especially his defense of Poe and reference to "rollicking" companionship made by John Sartain, led to the rumor that Poe was a heavy absinthe drinker himself (something I still hear about on occasion; a quick Google for "Poe and absinthe" proves there are still people out there perpetuating the rumor). However, as the Edgar Allan Poe Society (Jeff Savoye?) has proven, Poe was almost certainly never an absinthe drinker.

Death of Poe: The Mystery Continues

This is the second of a two-part guest blog by mystery novelist Matthew Pearl (The Dante Club, The Poe Shadow, and The Last Dickens).

The Real Investigators of Poe's death
Part II: The Mysterious Mr. Benson
by Matthew Pearl

There may have been another man snooping around Baltimore to find out more about Poe's death in the fall of 1849—or it may be another fiction in the Poe death narrative.

Before going to Baltimore on his way to New York, Poe was staying in Richmond and took the oath from the Sons of Temperance, probably to appease Elmira Shelton and her family. The president of the anti-drinking organization, William J. Glenn, was interviewed at the age of 76 in the Richmond Times March 10, 1893 about Poe's pledge and makes an interesting claim.

“Several of the members of the Council went to Baltimore to make inquiries into the circumstances of the poet’s death,” says Glenn. “After a careful investigation they were satisfied that he had not been drinking. His new coat had been substituted by an old, much-worn garment, and several valuables which he had with him were missing. According to the theory of those who made the investigation, he had been drugged and robbed before he was taken to the hospital where he died.”

Seven years later, in a letter dated December 4, 1900, Glenn gets more specific about this investigation. “In October,” Glenn writes of Poe, “he started to Baltimore... A few days later we heard of his death at a hospital in that city, and the statement was made and too busily circulated that his death was the result of a spree commenced as soon as he reached Baltimore. We of the temperance order to which he belonged exerted ourselves to get at the facts, and the consensus of opinion was that he had not been drinking, but had been drugged. A gentleman by the name of Benson, born in Baltimore in 1811, and living there until he was 21 years old, went to Baltimore, and, as he knew Poe and felt much interest in the manner of his death, went to the hospital at which he died, and had a talk with the doctor (an acquaintance), who told him that Poe had not been drinking when brought to the hospital, but was under the influence of a drug; he added that he suggested the use of stimulants, but that Mr. Poe positively declined taking any.”

Can we put stock in Glenn's accounts? It is intriguing to have a name, at least: Benson. Perhaps it is made more credible by the details about Benson's age and background (if Glenn was making it up, wouldn't he leave that out?). Benson, if he existed, would have been approximately 38 in 1849. He would have lived in Baltimore until about 1832, and by 1849 lived in Richmond. Can we find out who Benson was? If so, could this lead us to more details about Poe's death? Are there other accounts by Glenn or this mysterious Mr. Benson waiting for us out there?

Did the Sons of Temperance really launch their own investigation into Poe's death? If so, was it several members who traveled to Baltimore—as claimed in the 1893 interview—or just one named Benson, as claimed in Glenn's 1900 letter?

*Special thanks to Matthew, who was kind enough to prepare these posts and wait two months before they were posted. On a more personal note, I highly recommend Matthew's novels, especially The Dante Club. -RV

Poe and politics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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."

The Black Cat: probable events with improbable circumstances

August 19, 1843 saw the first publication of one of Poe's most famous works. The Saturday Evening Post published "The Black Cat" in its issue with that date. In fact, the story was featured right on the front page. The editors noted:

"The Black Cat," by Mr. Poe, is written in that vein of his which no other American writer can imitate, or has, successfully. The accompaniment of probable events with improbable circumstances, so blended with the real that all seems plausible; and the investiture of the whole with a shadowy mythic atmosphere, leaving a strong and ineffaceable impression upon the reader's mind, is an effort of imagination to which few are equal... Cruelty to animals is a sin which deserves a punishment as severe as Mr. Poe has inflicted upon his hero.

"The Black Cat" is one of Poe's most violent works, difficult for many readers because of its blatant animal abuse. However, as I have argued elsewhere, the violence of the story was purposeful as it was intended as a "dark temperance" tale, meant to scare people away from alcohol.

If I can editorialize for a moment, there are a couple of unfortunate aspects of the story which are ultimately not Poe's fault. Its use of alcohol as a predominant theme has only added fuel to the incorrect generalization that all of Poe's works are about alcohol (or, worse, written under the influence of alcohol). Further, it is often paired in middle school or high school classes with "The Tell-Tale Heart" and/or "The Cask of Amontillado," implying all of Poe's works are about murder or concealing corpses.

As much as I love "The Black Cat" and those other horror stories, maybe teachers should consider pairing "The Black Cat" with "X-ing a Paragrab"? Or maybe with "Landor's Cottage" or "Mystification"? Horror is great, but Poe is not a "horror writer" — he is one of the most diverse writers of his generation, and we don't show it often enough.

*The illustration above is by Alphonse Legros, 1860.

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."

Happy Friday the 13th!

In honor of Friday the 13th, here's an excerpt from "The Black Cat" (1843):

This [cat] was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this point — and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.

I love how Poe toys with his readers! The narrator just happens to remember the superstition behind black cats just as he's introducing the title character of the story. Poe knows what his readers are thinking when they think of black cats, but he turns it into a coincidence — which, we know, it is isn't. Poe's literary theory makes it clear that no words should be wasted. If he gives you a detail — such as black cats being witches in disguise — it's because he wants you to know about it.

Poe shows a wide range of skill in "The Black Cat." There is so much irony, much here is tongue-in-cheek, and dares to refer to it as "a series of mere household events." It is, however, "nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects." It's almost karma, really.

If you don't know the story, it is one of Poe's most violent. The narrator, on one of his drunken sprees, (accidentally?) buries an axe in his wife's skull. The unprovoked murder, if it really was an accident, should have been met with sorrow or grief. Instead, he immediately hides the corpse so he won't get in trouble.

Of course, that scene is not why the story is considered so violent; murder is nothing new in Poe. What makes "The Black Cat" special is its abundance of cruelty towards animals. There are many pets in the story (a monkey, rabbits, etc.) — all of which are abused (in brief, passing sentences) but the real horror happens when the narrator takes aim at his favorite pet, the black cat named Pluto. Repeatedly, the narrator tells us how he loves this cat and considers it his favorite playmate. And, yet, one day, coming home from a drinking binge (the following is not G-rated!):

I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket!

The narrator is struck by the same "imp of the perverse" which is frequently mentioned in Poe's works - an odd desire to do things which we know we shouldn't, "to do wrong for the wrong's sake only." It is in this spirit that, with tears streaming down his face, the narrator takes a noose to the cat's neck and hangs it from a tree. Watching it die, he notes how much he loves this cat. He knows, however, that he is committing a sin and, in so doing, he will be punished.

I won't divulge more than that. This classic Poe story simply must be read. In talking about it, however, the poor wife's murder is so easily overshadowed by the fate of the cat (and the revenge it takes).

It's worth justifying Poe's use of violence in this story, because it is so explicit whereas many of Poe's works ("Berenice," for example) merely imply violence without describing them deeply. "The Black Cat" is considered by many (including this blogger) to be a dark temperance tale — a story so horrible it will scare people away from drinking alcohol. The narrator's violence and cruelty is only present when he has been drinking, after all.

Poe himself was a recovering alcoholic. Knowing the problems he had with drinking, he often did his best to avoid alcohol (including one period of 18 months of sobriety, an aspect which English teachers forget to mention to their impressionable students) and, at least once, he joined a temperance society. The fanaticism of these organizations was well-known and it was assumed when Poe joined the Sons of Temperance that he would use his pen for their cause. But, more on that story another time, perhaps.

In the meantime, enjoy this Friday the 13th and feel free to be superstitious about witches in disguise.

Sarah Helen Whitman responds to Poe's critics

On February 5, 1860, poetess Sarah Helen Whitman (1803-1878) published Edgar Poe and His Critics, a book which directly responded to various accusations hurled against Poe in the ten+ years since his death.

A Providence native, Whitman specifically responded to accusations from Rufus W. Griswold and others. One specific charge made by Griswold was responded fairly cheekily — Griswold said Poe had no friends. Whitman introduced her book, "by a friend."

It's sort of a shame now that today Whitman is only recognized for her connection with Poe — she was amongst the most famous women poets of her day and, to be honest, much of her work deserves reclaiming. At least one scholar, Brett Rutherford, agrees with me, though he still frames his book on Whitman around her relationship with Poe.

Let me sum up her relationship with Poe: She was almost his second wife. I'll give the details of their relationship closer to their wedding date in December.

After her book was published, Whitman maintained a heavy correspondence with John Henry Ingram, an independent biographer (and postal worker!) considered one of the first to punch a significant hole in Griswold's lies. And, really, it was Whitman that made Ingram's Poe biography so rich and so vital, even today.

Her relationship with Poe, her book response to Griswold, and her correspondence with Ingram make up all that she is remembered for today (quite unfortunately). A friend of mine performs as Sarah Helen Whitman on occasion, and nearly brings me to tears every time I see her.

In 1848, Whitman wrote this poem to Edgar Poe:

If thy sad heart, pining for human love,
In its earth solitude grew dark with fear,
Lest the high Sun of Heaven itself should prove
Powerless to save from that phantasmal sphere
Wherein thy spirit wandered,—if the flowers
That pressed around thy feet, seemed but to bloom
In lone Gethsemanes, through starless hours,
When all who loved had left thee to thy doom,—
Oh, yet believe that in that hollow vale
Where thy soul lingers, waiting to attain
So much of Heaven's sweet grace as shall avail
To lift its burden of remorseful pain,
My soul shall meet thee, and its Heaven forego
Till God's great love, on both, one hope, one Heaven bestow.

In memoriam: Virginia Clemm Poe

On January 30, 1847, Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe died after a five-year battle with tuberculosis at the age of 24. Though she is often referred to as Edgar Poe's "child bride," it's important to note that after 11 years of marriage, we can presume she grew up a bit.

We don't tend to talk much about her character; not even I have a personal opinion if she was a strong woman, intelligent, artistic, or good at housekeeping. She has sort of been relegated to a background character in the life of Poe. Even so, discussing Poe requires discussion of his wife, and that discussion can be romantic, awkward, confusing, or apologetic. The truth is, yes, Poe married his first-cousin when she was 13 (he was 27). No, it was not unusual to marry your cousin in those days and, from what I've seen, especially among poorer families in the South. But, just to make a point, others who married their first cousins include two signers of the Declaration of Independence (a couple others opted for second cousins), writer H. G. Wells, and (fellow bicentennial) Charles Darwin. As far as the age difference, women did marry young in those days. But, I would quickly point out that Virginia was unusually young for marriage, even at this time period. I can't dispute that.

Of course, there has been dispute as far as the kind of relationship Mr. and Mrs. Poe shared. The doting husband called his wife "Sissy" as a nickname, and many scholars believe they shared more of a sibling partnership. Many also believe that the couple never consummated their marriage (especially if you believe "Annabel Lee" stood in for Virginia as the "maiden there lived whom you may know"), while others suggest that they held off until a more appropriate age.

My personal opinion is that Poe was madly in love with his wife. But, to Poe, love was not physical but poetic and, because he existed on this higher plane of artistic passion, his relationship can't compare to our modern definitions of marriage. Even if their relationship was sexual (which I believe is possible, but I fall into the camp that believes it didn't happen right away), it was not the primary part of their marriage. This relationship was based on love - and there's nothing wrong with that, especially for a 19th century coupling. When she died, of course he was devastated.

Nevertheless, there is a rumor that Poe never got over the death of his wife, and that her sickness and death defined all of his writing and forced him to become an alcoholic. I would dispute some of these rumors, if you don't mind.

First, though much of Poe's writing emphasizes death and, more specifically, deaths of women, not all of them do. One of his most famous, for example, "The Tell-Tale Heart," shows no signs of illness or of women dying. Further, Poe's use of the theme of dying women is for artistic purposes - as explained in my last blog post on "The Raven." As far as Poe never getting over Virginia's death, well, there is likely some truth to that - just as they say today, you never truly stop loving someone. But, Poe was looking for his second wife even while Virginia was still alive and, in some cases, was encouraged by Virginia to do so.

Drinking, of course, is always a contentious discussion with Poe. I would argue that his drinking problems first manifested as a university student (anything unusual about college students experimenting with alcohol?) and, sure, he drank throughout his life. But, it was after Virginia's death that Poe joined a temperance society and took a vow of sobriety. We can argue about this for quite some time and never really find the source of Poe's drinking, how much he drank, how affected he was by alcohol, etc.

All this aside, here's to Virginia Clemm Poe, to whom this blog is respectfully dedicated today.