In Memoriam: Thomas Holley Chivers

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

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

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

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

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

Rest in peace, Dr. Chivers.

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

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.

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).

The mystery of David Poe, Jr.

Having already dedicated a post to Poe's mother, it is only fitting to follow it up with one about his father. Perhaps appropriate to the inventor of the modern detective story, however, Edgar Poe's father is a bit of a mystery.

David Poe, Jr. was born in Baltimore in 1784. His father, the original David Poe, was known for his patriotic self-sacrifice during the American Revolution. He was such a strong patriot, in fact, friends called him "General," despite not having such a title. One of those friends was the Marquis de La Fayette (who young Edgar Poe met years later).

David Poe, Jr.'s family was not well-off and they expected him to become a lawyer. He began studying law but, at the age of 22, was in Norfolk, Virginia, when he first laid eyes on the young widow Eliza Arnold Hopkins. Whether he was smitten by her or her acting performance is uncertain, but David decided to become an actor himself, to the dismay of his family. Eliza's first husband, Charles Hopkins, had been dead only six months when she and David married in 1806. Nine months later, their first son (William Henry Leonard Poe) was born. Two years later came baby Edgar. The parents weren't able to take care of their children and relied on David's Baltimore family to take care of them while they traveled and performed.

In fact, David did not excel as an actor. Over six years, he played 137 roles, 19 of them in Shakespeare works. Despite his attractive face, he just couldn't act. One critic noticed Mr. and Mrs. Poe: "the lady was young and pretty, and evinced both talent both as a singer and actress; the gentleman was literally nothing." Another wrote, "This man was never destined for the high walks of the drama; — a footman is the extent of what he ought to attempt." Puns on "Poe" and "p'oh" or "poo" were abundant.

The hard-tempered and sensitive David may have, in fact, suffered from stage fright. He turned to drinking. When Edgar was born, he realized his family was in a financial crisis. Rather than ask his famous father for help, he turned to a cousin in Stockertown, Pennsylvania named George Poe. Arriving at night unannounced, he was asked to come back the next day. Instead, he wrote a note — the only surviving letter from Edgar Poe's father — begging for money, with an all-to-insistent promise to pay him back. Edgar would write several similar notes.

David Poe appeared on stage in October 1809 — apparently his last. By July 1811, David had abandoned his family, quite literally disappearing off the map. It may have been due to his drinking, his lackluster performances, his jealousy of his wife, his frustration over his financial woes, or maybe he was dismissed from the troupe for his bad behavior and attitude (and bad acting skills). Or, perhaps, if we believe rumors suggested by both John Allan and Elizabeth Ellet, he left when his wife became pregnant with a third child — one which was not his.

David Poe, Jr. may have died on December 11, 1811* — three days after Eliza's death — in Norfolk, Virginia — the same town where he met his wife. Poe may or may not have known the circumstances. Known for making up his own autobiographical details, he did once acknowledge that his father outlived his mother, but by "a few weeks." David's burial place is unknown, and no image of him is known to exist.

*This date seems to have come from Susan Archer Talley Weiss, a minor poetess from Richmond who claimed to have known Poe intimately. Her claims should always be considered questionable. Nevertheless, I've seen this date listed in two other Poe sources. Go figure.

In Memoriam: Eliza Poe

Elizabeth Arnold Hopkins Poe, known today mostly as "Eliza Poe," died on December 8, 1811 in Richmond, VA. She was 24 years old and left behind three children.

Eliza Arnold was born in London, England in 1787. After her father's death, she sailed with her mother, an actress, to Boston in 1795. There, a nine-year-old Eliza debuted on stage, playing a character named Biddy Blair. That year, her mother re-married and the couple became founding members of a new acting troupe. Though her mother died in 1798, Eliza stayed with the group of traveling actors. Throughout her stage career, Eliza played over 300 characters, including a few singing roles.

In the summer of 1802, at age 15, Eliza married Charles Hopkins, though he died three years later. An 18-year old widow and orphan, she soon met David Poe, Jr. in Virginia. He joined the acting troupe, despite his family's intentions for him to become a lawyer. Eliza and David married in 1806. As it turned out, he was a poor actor, and soon turned to drinking.

Nine months into marriage, the couple's first son was born in Boston. They named him William Henry Leonard Poe. Two years later, their second son was born in that same city (Eliza performed up until 10 days before his birth), on January 19, 1809. They named him Edgar Poe.

David Poe disappeared before Eliza's third child, a daughter named Rosalie, was born. Abandoned by her husband, Eliza did her best to support the small, struggling family. In 1811, however, while in Richmond, she began spitting blood. She performed for the last time on October 11 of that year. Shortly after, advertisements were printed about a benefit performance on Eliza's behalf.

Surrounded by her children, Eliza died (likely of tuberculosis) on December 8, 1811. Her three orphaned children were split up. She was buried in an unmarked grave at St. John's Episcopal Church in Richmond (the same church where Patrick Henry had once asked, "Give me liberty, or give me death!"). Years later, a memorial marker was placed there in her honor (seen at right).

The only likeness of Eliza Poe was a small, watercolor miniature that eventually came into the possession of Edgar, who likely remembered little of his mother. She also left him a watercolor painting of Boston Harbor. On the back, she asked Edgar to "always remember Boston," the city of his birth.

RIP, Eliza.

Or Broadway Something...

Charles Frederick Briggs was mostly known as a writer of satiric novels, particularly the then-famous The Adventures of Harry Franco. To his dismay, his title character also became his nickname (much like Poe was later referred to as "The Raven"). Wanting to do more, Briggs intended to start his own journal. He was struggling, however, with choosing a name.

On December 7, 1844, Briggs wrote his friend,* the literary critic James Russell Lowell: "I shall issue a prospectus in a day or two; the name will be, for the sake of individuality... the Broadway Journal, or Review, or Chronicle, or Broadway Something..."

Briggs wanted to emphasize the distinct New York flavor to his journal. Most periodicals were regional, after all (even Poe original aimed for Pennsylvanian readers when planning The Penn; he later renamed it The Stylus to appeal to a broader audience). The one which Briggs was planning would become The Broadway Journal with the help of his business-minded partner John Bisco.

In the same letter to Lowell, he asks about getting in touch with Poe. Poe came in as a co-editor and business partner. The venture, however, never turned a substantial profit and Bisco eventually bailed out. Oddly enough, Briggs had difficulty working with Poe, in part due to the vitriolic style of criticism which first drew him towards hiring Poe. He soon sold his portion of the business to Poe to break the partnership. By the fall of 1845, The Broadway Journal was solely under the control and ownership of Edgar Poe — it was the only journal and the only business Poe ever owned.

During his tenure there, Poe tweaked and republished a substantial portion of his major works; many of the versions featured in The Broadway Journal became the standard editions. He continued reviewing other writers, noticed newly-published works, updated his readers on local politics, and gave his theories on good literature.

Despite his best intentions (and even a vow to his friend Thomas Holley Chivers to "make a fortune of it yet"), Poe did not succeed in bringing the struggling journal to success. Its final issue was in January 1846. Nevertheless, the experience pushed him closer to producing The Stylus. Despite working in earnest, his plans never came to fruition.

*More work could be done considering their friendship. Lowell turned over all profits from his famous A Fable for Critics directly to Briggs. Certainly, some of the animosity Lowell will begin to feel towards Poe during the "Longfellow War" comes from Briggs's trash-talking, so to speak.

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.