The Poisoning of Edgar and Virginia Poe

Rene Van Slooten, one of the more original and insightful Poe scholars out there, has an interesting article about how analysis of Edgar and Virginia's hair shows that the couple (particularly Virginia) had been poisoned with various toxic substances (largely from illuminating gas) during the years they lived in New York City.

Van Slooten goes on to suggest that this environmental poisoning was responsible for at least some of Poe's health problems and notoriously erratic behavior during this period.  Although Van Slooten does not mention this, I found myself wondering if this poisoning contributed to Virginia's early death.

As that popular blogging saying goes, read the whole thing.

Virginia Poe's Raven

Virginia Clemm Poe died on this day in 1847, at the age of twenty-four.  On February second, she was buried in the family vault of John Valentine, Poe's landlord, in the graveyard of the Old Dutch Reformed Church.  However, many years later, the cemetery was razed.  Poe biographer William F. Gill claimed that he "just happened" to be on the spot when Virginia's remains were about to be discarded.  He often boasted that he rescued what he could of Poe's wife (which, unfortunately, only amounted to a "few, thin, discolored bones") and for years kept them in his house as a distressingly Ed Gein-like souvenir and general conversation piece.  Finally, in 1885, the little that was left of poor Virginia was reburied with her mother and husband in Baltimore.

This article from the January 27, 1909 issue of the “New Ulm (MN) Review” gives Gill's own version of how his little adventure in body-snatching came to an end.  The headline is “The Raven Came Tapping.” A better title might be, “A Good Illustration of Why William Gill is Considered One of Poe’s More Chuckleheaded Biographers”:

At the Poe memorial meeting in Boston the other evening William Fearing Gill of Paris, the friendly biographer of the poetic genius Edgar Allan Poe, deeply interested his audience by relating a strange incident which he said had never been published or told and which he had determined to reserve for the centennial anniversary of the poet's birth.

"I was living in New York at the time, and in my room I had in a box the bones of Mrs. Edgar Allan Poe, which I had rescued when the graveyard in which she was interred was leveled. It was a bleak morning in December. I was awakened by a rap, rap, rap. I went to the door. No one was there. Again came the rap, rap, rap. I went to the window and opened it. All was darkness, but I could distinguish some sort of small animal on the sill. 'Come in,' I said, and in walked a raven.

"On my mantel I had an album of autograph letters of Poe, together with a poem called ‘The Demon of the Fire,' which doubtless inspired his 'Raven.' This bird went to the book, perched on top of it and, fastening his talons in it, turned and looked at me. I said, in the words of the poem, 'Tell me what thy lordly name is.' The raven flapped his wings and cried, 'Whoo-oo,' probably as near 'Nevermore' as Poe's raven ever got. The apparition of the raven I accepted as Hamlet accepted the apparition of the ghost—as a rebuke because I had delayed so long in interring the remains of Mrs. Poe. While the bird sat there I wrote to Nelson [sic] Poe asking him to take the bones. He did so, and we interred them in Baltimore."

A footnote: “The Demon of the Fire” (also known as “The Fire-Fiend”) was published in the “Southern Literary Messenger” in 1863, billed as an “unpublished MS.” of Poe’s. It was actually a hoax perpetrated by one Charles D. Gardette, who, when he republished the poem under his own name in 1866, stated unblushingly that he had been challenged to “produce a poem in the manner of ‘The Raven’ which should be accepted by the general critic as a genuine composition of Mr. Poe’s.”

It is depressing to record that Gardette succeeded, at least with certain critics. Not only Gill, but more reputable scholars, such as Edmund Clarence Stedman and James A. Harrison, showed a curious willingness to sacrifice their credibility by, even after Gardette’s confession, maintaining Poe’s authorship of lines such as:

“Speechless struck with stony silence, frozen to the floor I stood,
Till methought my brain was hissing with that hissing, bubbling blood;
Till I felt my life stream oozing, oozing from those lambent lips;
Till the demon seemed to name me — then a wondrous calm o‘ercame me,
And my brow grew cold and dewy, with at death damp stiff and gluey,
And I fell back on my pillow, in apparent soul eclipse.”

To be fair, those lines are a good description of how I feel after reading most of the Poe biographies.

Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe, Born August 15, 1822

"She was an excellent linguist, and a perfect musician, and she was so very beautiful. How often has Eddie said: I see no one so dignified and so beautiful as my sweet little wife. And oh! how pure and beautiful she was even to the last."
-Maria Clemm, 1860

"Little Virginia I have a clear recollection of when she visited us in Exeter St., as well as of the fact that the fascinating little brunette awakened in me the first tender emotion I ever felt--calf love, I believe you call it."
-Henry Starr, a childhood neighbor of the Poe/Clemm household in Baltimore

“…Perhaps you knew him best of all,
Loving him best, the whole of him,
Listening with him to the fall
Of the soft-footed seraphim
Or other guests more grim--
And growing steadily strangely more
Like one implacable image, till
The footfalls on the tufted floor
Tinkled and stopped--and Death stood still--
And listened--as Death will.”
-Joseph Auslander, “Letter to Virginia Clemm”

D.H. Lawrence’s “Birthday” was not addressed to either of the Poes. However, for some reason, the 1914 poem has always so reminded me of Virginia that I couldn’t resist repeating it today. Hopefully, Edgar and Virginia will forgive me for quoting a man who wrote some of the worst attempts to analyze Poe I’ve ever read. (“His grand attempt and achievement was with his wife; his cousin, a girl with a singing voice. With her he went in for the intensest flow, the heightening, the prismayic shades of ecstasy. It was the intensest nervous vibration of unison, pressed higher and higher in pitch, till the blood-vessels of the girl broke, and the blood began to flow out loose. It was love. If you call it love.” Calm down, Dave.)

“If I were well-to-do
I would put roses on roses, and cover your grave
With multitude of white roses, and just a few
Red ones, a bloody-white flag over you.

So people passing under
The ash-trees of the valley road, should raise
Their eyes to your bright place, and then in wonder
Should climb the hill, and put the flowers asunder.

And seeing it is your birthday,
They would say, seeing each mouth of white rose praise
You highly, every blood-red rose display
Your triumph of anguish above you, they would say:

''Tis strange, we never knew
While she was here and walking in our ways
That she was as the wine-jar whence we drew
Our draught of faith that sent us on anew.’

And so I’d raise
A rose-bush unto you in all their hearts
A rose of memory with a scent of praise
Wafting like solace down their length of days.”

Happy birthday, Sissy!

Marginalia

This post is designed to provide a home for a few stray bits of Poeana I've encountered here and there.

1. The Case of the Postponed Pym

"The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym" was issued by Harper's in July of 1838. However, the firm applied for copyright and had a title page prepared over a year earlier, in June 1837. (A month before, the "Knickerbocker" announced that the novel was "nearly ready for publication.") Why the long delay? We have no idea. Poe researcher Kenneth Rede suggested "they withheld the volume from the public to give Poe, desperately in need of funds, and without employment at the time, a reasonable opportunity to find a periodical willing to continue the serialization of the tale...and that when he failed in this quest, they then brought out the book as originally planned." It has also been theorized that Harper's held off releasing the book because of the uncertain economic climate of the times. (May 1837 saw a financial panic which inaugurated a severe depression that lasted until 1843.)


These theories, though plausible, fail to completely convince me. Admittedly, however, I cannot think of any better explanations. It is a curious coincidence that we know almost nothing of Poe's personal and professional activities between his move to New York City early in 1837 and his relocation to Philadelphia about a year later. Could this strange gap in his timeline have any connection to the simultaneous pause in the life of "Pym?"



2. Bayard Taylor's Poe Parody

In October of 1845, Poe became the sole proprietor of the "Broadway Journal." He bought out his partner, John Bisco, with the help of a promissory note for fifty dollars, which was endorsed by Horace Greeley. When it came due, Bisco evidently collected it from the endorser. ("As was to be anticipated," snorted Poe biographer George Woodberry.) Greeley, rather tastelessly, dined out on the episode for years to come, even proclaiming in his autobiography that he offered the note to someone seeking Poe's autograph "for half that amount."

The episode itself, thanks to Greeley, is relatively famous. What is less well-known is the fact that Greeley's friend Bayard Taylor was, for reasons known only to himself, inspired to commemorate it in a poem, "The Promissory Note." The result is one of the weirder Poe spoofs:

In the lonesome latter years,
(Fatal years!)
To the dropping of my tears
Danced the mad and mystic spheres
In a rounded, reeling rune,
'Neath the moon,
To the dripping and the dropping of my tears

Ah my soul is swathed in gloom,
(Ulalume!)
In a dim Titanic tomb,
For my gaunt and gloomy soul
Ponders o'er the penal scroll
O'er the parchment (not a rhyme,)
Out of place out of time,
I am shredded, shorn, unshifty,
(O, the fifty!)
And the days have passed, the three,
Over me!
And the debit and the credit are as one to him and me!

'Twas the random runes I wrote
At the bottom of the note
(Wrote and freely,
Gave to Greeley,)
In the middle of the night
On the yellow, moonless night,
When the stars were out of sight,
When my pulses, like a knell,
(Israfel!)
Danced with dim and dying fays
O'er the ruins of my days,
O'er the dimeless, timeless days,
When the fifty, drawn at thirty,
Seeming thrifty, yet the dirty
Lucre of the market, was the most that I could raise!

Fiends controlled it,
(Let him hold it!)
Devils held for me the inkstand and the pen;
Now the days of grace are o'er,
(Ah, Lenore!)
I am but as other men;
What is time, time, time,
To my rare and runic rhyme,
To my random, reeling rhyme,
By the sands along the shore,
Where the tempest whispers, "Pay him!" and I answer "Never more!"

Many poems made money, but this is the only case I know where money made poems.

3. Rufus W. Griswold, Poetic Muse

Another example of bizarre verses from the World of Poe comes to us courtesy of Frances S. Osgood. It is well known that in 1846 Poe wrote her an acrostic Valentine poem containing her name. His more frivolous biographers have tried to twist this innocuous--and probably commissioned--contribution to a Valentine party into evidence that they had some sort of close relationship (overlooking the fact that the poem misspelled her middle name and called her a dunce.) Left largely ignored is the fact that in 1850, Mrs. Osgood wrote a similar, but far more intimate poem to none other than everyone's favorite fraud, Rufus Wilmot Griswold. This poem, which George Woodberry dryly called "an illustrative document in regard to the literary group," rarely has appeared in print. I propose to do my part in correcting that omission. Fanny and the Reverend won't live this one down--in a manner of speaking--if I can help it. (Note: By reading the italicized letters, their names can be found--hers, left to right, his, right to left.)

For one, whose being is to mine a star,
Trembling I weave in lines of love and fun
What Fame before has echoed near and far.
A sonnet if you like--I'll give you one
To be cross-questioned ere it's truth is solv'd.
Here veiled and hidden in a rhyming wreath
A name is turned with mine in cunning sheath,
And unless by some marvel rare evolved,
Forever folded from all idler eyes
Silent and secret still it treasured lies,
Whilst mine goes winding onward, as a rill
Thro' a deep wood in unseen joyance dances,
Calling in melody's bewildering thrill
Whilst thro' dim leaves its partner dreams and glances.

Even more embarrassing evidence of her partiality (however self-serving) for Griswold can be found in her 1850 collection of poems, which "his attached friend" dedicated to him "As a souvenir of admiration for his genius, of regard for his generous character, and of gratitude for his valuable literary counsels."

4. In Which I Give John Evangelist Walsh the Plot of His Next Book

On a related note, an Edward A. Oldman wrote a peculiar letter to the New York Times which appeared in the August 11, 1929 issue. He claimed to know "the real reason" behind Griswold's enmity for Poe, information he gathered from "reminiscences at first-hand" he acquired from Poe's old classmates at the University of Virginia. (It was not explained how these youthful acquaintances would have the slightest "first-hand" knowledge about the relations between the two men, but never mind that.)

"From this material," wrote Oldham, "one important statement is recalled. It was in the effect that Rufus Wilmot Griswold was smitten with the flower-like charms of the poet's wife, and had on at least one occasion been rebuffed by her, the incident very nearly causing a permanent rupture between Poe and Griswold. The latter never forgot the circumstance and was known to have harbored a feeling of rancor against the poet."

This is nearly as silly a tale as the old cliché that Poe and Griswold were rivals for the dubious charms of Mrs. Osgood, but far more delightful. As long as the world is going to be plagued by badly-written, ahistorical Poe novels, I wish somebody would write one featuring a scene where the lustful Reverend makes impassioned advances to Virginia, only to have flowery Mrs. Poe "rebuff" him with a well-aimed knee to the groin. And perhaps a karate chop to the neck.

I may have to write it myself.

Poe scholars, showing a distressing lack of humor, have ignored Mr. Oldham's revelations, with the exception of Thomas O. Mabbott. He wrote the Times a week later, saying that he had never heard the story, "but it is one of those things that may very well be true." Thus proving a point I have made several times on this blog: There were no, I repeat, no Poe myths too nutty for Mr. Mabbott to embrace.

5. A "Lost" Portrait of Virginia Poe?

Mrs. W. H. Jackson, a self-described "admirer of Poe," wrote an article for the May 7, 1899 issue of the Detroit Free Press describing a visit she paid "many years ago" to Maria Clemm when Poe's aunt/mother-in-law was living in the Church Home in Baltimore. The article is brief and says nothing new or interesting, except for one brief statement that caught my eye. Mrs. Jackson said that on the wall of Mrs. Clemm's room hung "a colored lithograph" of Virginia holding "her favorite cat." She added, "Mrs. Clemm looked with a mother's tenderness upon this shadow of her frail child, whose nature 'touched to finer issues' was an inspiration to her gifted husband, sitting at his feet while many of the fantastic though purely rhythmic lines were dictated."

This does not fit the description of any known picture of Virginia, either accepted or apocryphal, and I have yet to find any other reference to this alleged portrait. There are several possibilities: This lithograph was lost or destroyed at some early date. Mrs. Jackson saw a generic portrait of a young woman and mistakenly assumed it was of Mrs. Clemm's daughter. Possibly, the portrait is still extant and simply has yet to be identified as Virginia. Finally, and most probably, Mrs. Jackson simply made that detail up. (That would be entirely typical of the newspaper stories of the day.)

6. A Glimpse of Poe in 1845

The May 1, 1895 issue of the Boston Globe carried a letter from a George Barron, who claimed to have been a fellow-boarder with the Poe family ("on Greenwich St., near the Battery") in the early half of 1845. I have never seen his brief reminiscences reprinted, so I quote them here. Barron described Poe as "particularly kind and attentive" to Virginia and Mrs. Clemm, "and they all seemed much devoted to each other."

"From what I saw of this remarkable man at that time, his kind attentions to his wife and mother-in-law, and his natural politeness to his fellow-boarders sitting near him at the table, I was sure he was at heart a true gentleman, notwithstanding what his detractors may have then or since said of him. While he was not a communicative man, but rather reticent and reserved in his manner, yet he was always courteous in responding to those who addressed him. He was always neatly and well dressed when I saw him, although I had the impression he was suffering somewhat from poverty at that time."

Barron's only specific anecdote regarding Poe was about the poet giving him and some of the other boarders complimentary passes to a lecture he was giving, only to have it cancelled due to bad weather, "to the great disappointment of those of us who were present." (The April 18, 1845 issue of the New York Evening Mirror noted that Poe was scheduled to lecture the previous evening, but was forced to postpone "in consequence of the inclemency of the weather.")

7. All You Need to Know About Sarah Helen Whitman

In 1874, she wrote John H. Ingram that she had never seen a ghost, "though I once saw a beautiful luminous hand that wrote for me three initial letters, which I still preserve & look upon with awe & wonder!"

8. Stop the Internet, I Want to Get Off

Finally, let me address a few of the utterly idiotic and equally indestructible Poe Myths I've seen floating around online:

A. No, Poe was not kicked out of West Point for showing up for drill stark naked. Sorry, flashers.

B. No, Poe was not an atheist. A widely-circulated quote attributed to him, that "all religion is simply evolved out of chicanery, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry," is apocryphal. It originated from a justifiably obscure 1901 biography by a noisy crackpot named John Alexander Joyce, which is full of outlandish and clearly fictional statements. (Of especial note is his chapter claiming that "The Raven" was stolen from an 1809 poem called "The Parrot"--a work which never actually existed outside of Mr. Joyce's fevered mind.) Joyce claimed to have received this quote from a "Mr. William Barton, who was a typo and foreman on the 'Broadway Journal' when Poe was editor of the paper." I have not found any other indication this Barton even existed, and there is absolutely no reason to take this as evidence of Poe's spiritual beliefs. His views were unquestionably unorthodox, but I dare anyone to read "Eureka," "The Island of the Fay," "Mesmeric Revelation," "The Poetic Principle"--to make it short, just about anything he ever wrote--and still say he was an atheist.

C. No, as far as we know, Poe did not have any sort of connection to "Barnaby's Castle" in Providence, Rhode Island. However, judging by the keyword searches used to find this blog, a puzzling number of people seem to think he did, which makes me suspect that an overimaginative tour guide is lurking somewhere in the background.

D. No, Poe did not die of poison on a park bench, he never had a pet raccoon, he never wore a goatee, and Sarah Elmira Shelton was no Alice Eve. Thanks a bunch, Cusack.

E. I shall close with one sentence I never thought I'd ever have to write: No, Elizabeth Poe was not pecked to death by crows. Please, people. You're beginning to depress me.

Marginalia: Special J.H. Whitty Memorial Edition

In 1911, Poe enthusiast J.H. Whitty published what he said were previously unknown recollections of Poe written by the poet's close friend Frederick W. Thomas (who died in 1866.) These lengthy, detailed reminiscences have been used as source material by Poe biographers ever since. There are, however, certain obvious problems with these "Thomas Reminiscences":

1. All we have of Thomas' alleged acount is what Whitty published. The actual manuscript is not extant, and there is no record of it being seen by anyone other than Whitty. (His long-time associate Thomas O. Mabbott wrote that Whitty became "evasive" when Mabbott asked to see the document.)

2. We have only Whitty's word that he even acquired this previously unknown MS., and he was very vague about how they came into his hands. (He also claimed to have acquired proof-sheets of "late drafts" of several of Poe's poems that also somehow came into Thomas' hands, but these have similarly vanished.)

3. Whitty was, as one acquaintance described him, a "crank." He was an extremely peculiar fanatic who, like so many of the more unbalanced amateur Poe specialists, had an egomaniacal obsession with showing the world "new and previously unknown" material related to his idol. And--again like others of his type--it seems to have been unimportant to him if this material was genuine or not. During his long career, he came up with many other examples of "previously unknown" Poeana--much of which proved to be, as other Poe scholars were forced to admit, completely imaginary. The editors of the published collection of Poe's letters wrote tactfully that Whitty was "inclined to make exaggerated claims without documentation, and prone to romantic fancies." They admitted that Whitty's "veracity" has been questioned. Mabbott nonchalantly conceded that Whitty was "eccentric," "often wrong," "far from reliable," and inclined to mix fact with colorful fiction. He also wrote that Whitty "brought himself into disrepute by farfetched claims to 'discoveries about Poe'."

Given all of this, why in the world is this "Thomas manuscript" accepted unreservedly?

Incidentally, there are a number of other Whitty "discoveries" that are also, inexplicably, still used as source material, such as his completely lunatic--and completely undocumented--claim that Poe wrote two poems that appeared anonymously in "Graham's Magazine" in 1845, "Stanzas," and "Divine Right of Kings." Whitty claimed his source for this attribution was an old volume of "Graham's" in his possession, where Frances S. Osgood had written Poe's name at the bottom of these two poems. When asked to bring forth this volume, Whitty flatly refused, and to this day it has yet to be seen. Despite this highly self-incriminating refusal to prove his claims, these two dreadful poems are still to this day--for reasons that frankly baffle me--often republished as Poe's work, an attribution that undoubtedly would mortify the poor man. (Mabbott, who is largely responsible for these poems being accepted as Poe's, claimed that years after Whitty's "discovery" of these verses, a volume of "Graham's" was discovered in the Boston Public Library, with annotations in an unknown handwriting--definitely not Osgood's--assigning them to Poe. As I have pointed out before, it never occurred to Mabbott that we have no idea who wrote these notations and when it was done. It was undoubtedly the work of someone who had heard of Whitty's claims--or even Whitty himself. In any case, anonymous notations to anonymous poems can hardly be considered scholarly proof of anything.)

This attribution also ignores the fact that what evidence we have on the subject indicates that the poems in question, which were signed merely "P," were authored by Charles J. Peterson, who was then on the staff of "Graham's." Thomas O. Mabbott even admitted that signing poems with a single initial of a surname was "usually an editor's prerogative," which made his agreement to attribute these poems to Poe, rather than editor Peterson--who is accepted to have written other poems for "Graham's" signed "P"--utterly incomprehensible.

Incidentally, it was also Whitty who first posited the curious notion that Poe and Mrs. Osgood conducted a poetic "literary flirtation" in the pages of the "Broadway Journal." Until he began weaving this strange yarn in the early 1900s, no one had ever taken the least notice of these poems as any sort of biographical source material. (He also devised the even more ridiculous idea that Osgood's story "Ida Grey" reflected their relationship.) There really is little basis for his assertions, but Poe's biographers, charmed by the implied salaciousness of it all, have automatically parroted Whitty's fantasies ever since. All in all, if Whitty, like Susan Archer Talley Weiss, had not displayed the complete humorlessness that characterizes the true crackpot, I would seriously suspect that everything they wrote about Poe was an elaborate prank on history.

*****

It is exasperatingly typical of Poe that even details about his wedding are uncertain. His Richmond marriage to Virginia, which took place on this date in 1836, (happy anniversary, kids!) is usually described as having taken place in the parlor of the boardinghouse run by a Mrs. Yarrington, where he and the ladies Clemm were then living. It is also accepted that the young couple enjoyed a brief honeymoon in Petersburg, Virginia, as the guests of a local newspaper publisher named Hiram Haines. These claims, as well as nearly all the other details we have about the wedding, were first publicized in 1926, in Mary E. Phillips' "Edgar Allan Poe: The Man." Phillips' source for her account of the marriage and honeymoon was--wait for it!--none other than James Howard Whitty, who cited a "Jane Foster" who was supposedly one of the wedding guests.

However, F. B. Converse, the son of Amasa Converse, the minister who married the pair, told a journalist years later that the wedding was held in the parlor of his father's home. Dr. Converse added, "There were very few persons present at the wedding; my mother and the members of the family, and perhaps one or more companions, whom they brought with them." A Mrs. Mallory, who also lived in Mrs. Yarrington's boardinghouse, described Mrs. Clemm inviting her and some other ladies into her room, where she offered them cake and wine in celebration of the marriage, but this witness said nothing about the ceremony itself being held in the house. (Mrs. Mallory indicated that Mrs. Clemm's little impromptu party was the first she or any of the other women had heard of the marriage.)

If these accounts are true (and they at least have the virtue of being first-hand) it would discredit everything Whitty said this Jane Foster--who makes no other appearances in Poe's history--told him about the Poe wedding. I am not aware of any other independent source that verifies this alleged honeymoon--if anyone out there has found any such documentation, I would certainly like to know about it. (We also have nothing directly from Jane Foster herself.) Having Whitty's fingerprints on the tale is alone enough to make me uneasy about practically everything we think we "know" about the wedding, including Poe and Virginia's supposed Petersburg sojourn--as much as I'd like to think this star-crossed pair had at least one pleasant vacation during their union. The story of their honeymoon may well be true--at least, we know of no evidence that directly disproves it. (I emphasize this point in order to keep the good citizens of Petersburg from coming after me with the feathers and tar.) However, as is usual with Poe's history, it comes with a bit of a question mark. In any case, I hear that Petersburg's "Hiram Haines Coffee House," located in the building where the Poes supposedly resided during their honeymoon, is a charming place, and well worth a visit if you're ever in the area.


(Images of Poe bust and antebellum wedding courtesy NYPL Digital Gallery)

Update 12/10/11: While researching the "Raven's Bride" plagiarism case, blogger Archie Valparaiso unearthed a bit of historical information that not only refutes Lenore Hart's claims to have done original "historical research" on her now-discredited novel, it demolishes the legend of the entire Petersburg trip. Read of his discovery here, and savor the pure comedy gold.

If the railway from Richmond to Petersburg was only built after Edgar and Virginia were married, it, of course, renders the Whitty/Foster story about the newlyweds traveling by train an impossibility. And if that detail is false, it naturally discredits all of Whitty's account about the wedding and alleged honeymoon--a story that has been endlessly and trustingly repeated to this day.

My Interview With Edgar

"The mysteries of his [Poe's] life were never revealed to anyone, but his intimates well understood that to mystify his hearer was a strong element of his mind."
-George Rex Graham

Studying Poe's life is not recommended for anyone who likes their history uncomplicated. The man is, quite simply, one long exercise in frustration. From his birth until his death, we are confronted with what seems to be one unanswerable mystery after another. If I could somehow interview Poe personally, my list of questions would probably take days to discuss, but these are some of the top items I'd wish to have him truthfully explain. I think I know the answers to a few of these riddles; with others I'm completely in the dark. In either case, I'd certainly like his side of these stories:

1. The obvious one: After he left Richmond late in September 1849, where was he during those five days or so before he turned up in Baltimore, what was he doing, and what led to his death?

2. In a letter Poe allegedly wrote Sarah Helen Whitman, dated Nov. 24, 1848, there is the statement that "You will now comprehend what I mean in saying that the only thing for which I found it impossible to forgive Mrs. O[sgood] was her reception of Mrs. E[llet.]"

What did that mean, "her reception of Mrs. Ellet?" Why did he find that made it "impossible to forgive Mrs. Osgood?" What, exactly, were these two women up to? Were they somehow in collusion? By stating that it was "the only thing" she did that he could not overlook, does that mean she committed other offenses of some sort? If Mrs. Osgood did do something Poe found unforgivable--and the fact that he refused to have any contact with her for the last few years of his life appears to confirm this--how can all his biographers assume he retained a friendly affection for her?

3. Would he truly, in the end, have been willing to marry Sarah Helen Whitman or Sarah Elmira Shelton? If so, why? (You won't convince me for a moment that love had anything to do with it.)

4. "Ulalume" is his one work that truly gives me the shivers each time I read it, all the more so because we can only speculate what, exactly, Poe was telling us. Sarah Helen Whitman's interpretation of the poem--that Poe is depicting his struggle between memories of the dead Virginia and his longing to find new love--is generally accepted. Although I think it is possible that Virginia is represented by Psyche, the "sweet sister"--Sissy?--who tries in vain to save the narrator from doom, I feel that Whitman gave an overly simplistic explanation for such an esoteric and menacing creation. (And the inimitable John Evangelist Walsh's typically lunatic idea that the poem is an elegy for little Fanny Fay Osgood simply makes me ill.) This poem generates a sense of true evil that simply does not appear in his other works (even his most Grand Guignol tales, such as "The Black Cat," or "Hop-Frog," have a strong element of dark humor or satire that is utterly missing here.) I'd very much like to have Poe's own explanation of his most peculiar and ominous piece of writing.5. Did he really want Rufus W. Griswold to be his literary executor? If so, did that mean he anticipated that he would die soon? If not, what, if any, plans had he made for his literary estate?

6. We know that a great uproar was touched off in January 1846 when Virginia Poe--evidently on her own initiative--confronted Elizabeth F. Ellet with a letter written by Frances S. Osgood. What was in this letter, why did Virginia show it to Mrs. Ellet, and to whom was Osgood's letter addressed--Edgar or Virginia?

7. Did Virginia write any poems besides her 1846 Valentine to her husband? Did she--as I have speculated--have anything to do with the Valentine poem addressed to Frances Osgood?

8. While we're on the subject of Mrs. Osgood, what did Edgar and Virginia really think of that lady? And was my interpretation of Osgood's Poe reminiscences accurate?

9. Did he and Virginia secretly marry in 1835? If so, why was it a secret? If not, why did they take out a marriage license on September 22 of that year and not use it?

10. Which of the "lost" or anonymous writings that have been "attributed" to Poe were actually written by him?

11. Which of the extant letters written by Poe are genuine, and which are forgeries?

12. Was he--as both George W. Eveleth and I believe--"Outis?" (Cf. his surreal, hilarious unpublished essay, "A Reviewer Reviewed.")

If "Outis" truly was a case where Poe--in Eveleth's words--"defied himself," that would prove he did not take his infamous "Longfellow War" half as seriously as many of his biographers do--although his charges were indisputably accurate. As sincere as his outrage may have been, Poe likely saw his whole noisy public campaign to expose Henry Wadsworth's misdeeds as a playful and instructive stunt. (That is, actually, a crucial point to understanding many of Poe's actions--he loved to, as he would put it, "kick up a bobbery" almost as much as he loved hoaxes.)

13. Did he regret the fact that he never had children? Did Virginia?

14. Did he really regret his final estrangement from John Allan? Or did he feel that, despite all the struggles he endured afterwards, he was still better off away from a guardian he had obviously come to despise? Whatever miseries he endured in his adult life, did he think he would have been any happier leading a staid businessman's life as the heir to John Allan and the husband of Sarah Elmira Royster or some similar dull, ultra-conventional Richmond girl?

15. Did he really--as he wrote to Eveleth--have "inside information" about the Mary Rogers murder? Is the story related here about him and John Anderson at all accurate?

16. Was he engaged to Miss Royster in 1826?

17. What was the truth about Rosalie Poe's parentage?

18. In the 1846 newspaper column that inspired Poe's libel suit, Thomas Dunn English wrote of Poe that "...the 'Tombs' of New York, has probably a dim remembrance of his person..." implying that he once did a stint in prison. (English did not indicate the crime Poe allegedly committed.) Poe never addressed that specific charge, which, so far as I know, was never referred to again by anybody. Was English--for once--telling the truth, or was this just among his more outrageous libels? I find it hard to believe there was any basis to the story, (or that, if there was, English would be the only one of Poe's enemies to mention it.) However, if there was anything to English's strange statement, could that help explain the "blank period" in Poe's history when he lived in New York from 1837-38?

19. Of all his many, many reputed romantic interests, was he genuinely emotionally attached to any of these women, other than his wife? Did he even know all of them?

20. Did he, as Dr. Moran once claimed, repeatedly cry out, "Reynolds!" soon before his death? If so, what did it mean?

21. We only have one letter of Poe's written to Virginia alone, which is dated June 1846. Unfortunately, it exists only in the form of a copy made by Marie Shew Houghton, which she sent to John H. Ingram. We have no record of the original manuscript of this letter having been seen by anyone other than Mrs. Houghton. (She claimed that she found the letter hidden inside the frame of a miniature portrait of Poe Virginia gave her. This alleged portrait--which Mrs. Houghton, in her typically addled fashion, alternately described as a painting or as a daguerreotype--has also disappeared without a trace.) Is this letter genuine?

22. What were the answers to the questions I raised here and here regarding Poe's libel suit?

23. Did he really attempt suicide in 1848?

24. Just how frequent, and how serious, were his drinking bouts?

25. I'd like to know how deep was his interest/involvement with alchemy and its related mystical arts--an interest evident in such stories as "The Fall of the House of Usher," "Ligeia," "Von Kempelen," and arguably poems such as "Ulalume" and "For Annie." I'd also have a possibly related question--what exactly were those "odd chromatic experiments" he mentioned undertaking in 1835?

26. And finally, who, in his opinion, was the more deranged forger--Rufus Griswold or his son William?

I'm sure anyone reading this has their own list of questions for Poe. Séance, anyone?

Video Poe

Here are several of the better tributes to Poe found on the wild, wild world of You Tube. (This is the first time I've tried to embed videos, so it will be...interesting, to say the least, to see what happens. Pray for me, good people, pray for me.)

First, there is Jeff Buckley's deservedly well-known rendition of "Ulalume." Buckley does some odd things with the rhythm of the poem, which only adds to the unsettling quality of his performance. It's very understated, too, which I like. I'm heartily tired of recitals of Poe's works where the reader feels the need to put exclamation marks! after every! phrase! believing! that heightens! the dramatic! effect!!! And by the end! they're practically! SCREAMING!!!!

I can do no more than say I think Edgar himself would approve.





Here's Virginia's Valentine poem set to music, with the title, "Ever
With Thee." The results are quite charming, although the selection of images in the video is sometimes a bit odd.





A bit of nostalgia: This is a tune I first heard when I was only two or three years old, and even then it left a great impression on me--a very young Joan Baez singing "Annabel Lee."

The Name of Annabel Lee (Part One of Two)

"It was many and many a year ago
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee..."

The debate over which woman--or women--inspired what is arguably Poe's most beautiful poem has raged with remarkable vigor practically from the moment "Annabel Lee" first appeared in print, only days after the author's death.

It is a tribute to the unique emotional resonance of the poem that such a controversy even exists, considering that it is so overtly allegorical, rather than autobiographical, and there is certainly no valid evidence that Poe himself gave clues about any personal significance it may have had for him. (Poe was never one to offer explanations for any of his writings--in fact, he seemed to rather enjoy mystifying his readers with an air of, "It's none of my concern if you're too dull-witted to know what I mean.") However, this has not stopped Poe fans from linking his fable of the "kingdom by the sea" with virtually every woman he ever knew--something that, I suspect, would have both amused and disgusted him.

The leading actresses who have auditioned for the role of "Annabel Lee" are, roughly in order of popularity:

1. Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe

Poe's wife, is, by far, the woman most identified with the poem, and, while one Poe scholar perhaps became overly partisan when he said it was "sacrilege" to associate any other name with "Annabel Lee," she is the only logical choice if one wishes to read the lines as having any basis in fact.

The first to publicly state that the poem was a tribute to Virginia was Frances S. Osgood, in the "Reminiscences of Edgar A. Poe" she published in "Saroni's Musical Times" in December 1849. (Rufus W. Griswold later reprinted her account in his "Poe memoir.") Osgood's stated aim was to counter a current rumor that the poem was written in memory of a "late love affair" of the poet's. (It is not known if she was referring to Sarah Helen Whitman, Sarah Elmira Shelton, Sarah Anna Lewis, or some other lady--who hopefully was not named "Sarah.") Osgood commented disdainfully that "There seems a strange and almost profane disregard of the sacred purity and spiritual tenderness of this delicious ballad, in thus overlooking the allusion to the kindred angels and the heavenly Father of the lost and loved and unforgotten wife."

Whatever Osgood's motives may have been in making this assertion--whether it was out of spite against one of these other women, a desire to show intimate knowledge of the love between Poe and his wife, or simply a wish to give Virginia her due--she may have, for once, told the truth. Aside from the probability that Virginia was, as Mrs. Osgood conceded, his one genuine love, of all the women Poe knew, she was the only one who had "no other thought than to love and be loved by me," she alone was his "bride," and, of course, unlike the other leading candidates, she was dead when he wrote the poem. (The "wind" that "came out of the cloud, chilling/And killing my Annabel Lee" could be interpreted as a reference to Virginia's tuberculosis.) "Annabel Lee" is very possibly simply a lovely piece of imagery with no specific personal implications, but if Poe did intend it as autobiography, applying it to anyone other than his late wife is pure absurdity.

Not that this has stopped many people from trying.

2. Sarah Elmira Royster Shelton

Mrs. Shelton is the only other "Annabel" whose candidacy has developed any sort of following, in spite of the fact that her sole claim to the role rests upon a 1901 article by Edward Alfriend, "Unpublished Recollections of Edgar Allan Poe." Alfriend, who claimed to have been a friend of Shelton's (even though he gave her first name as "Elizabeth,") stated that she told him that Poe had assured her that she was his inspiration for the poem (and that she was the "lost Lenore," to boot!) Alfriend's piece is among the most easily-ridiculed Poe articles--it is packed from beginning to end with statements that are both easily disproved and manifestly ludicrous. It is impossible to read his "recollections" without coming to the conclusion that he didn't know the first thing about either Poe or Mrs. Shelton.

There is absolutely no other valid reason to link La Royster to "Annabel Lee," (and it should be noted that in the interview Mrs. Shelton allegedly gave Edward V. Valentine in 1875, she stated that Poe never addressed any poems to her.) Nevertheless, she still has her champions, most notably Thomas O. Mabbott.

Mabbott, as was often his habit in many other matters, gave varied and uncertain opinions about the poem's origins, but he was fondest of naming Mrs. Shelton as the poem's inspiration--largely, it seems, because of his strange antipathy towards Virginia Poe. For whatever reason, he swallowed whole all of Susan Archer Talley Weiss' unfounded slurs against Virginia and her marriage, making it impossible for him to accept the possibility that Poe had loved his wife enough to immortalize her memory in verse. (Mabbott was also under the impression that Poe wrote the poem during the brief period of his 1849 reacquaintance with Mrs. Shelton. He seemed oblivious to the fact that "Annabel Lee" was completed by the early spring of that year--months before Poe reconnected with his old neighbor.)

Here I must pause for an admittedly off-topic rant: What made all of Mabbott's pronouncements regarding Virginia all the more exasperating is the fact that--like other Poe biographers, most notably Hervey Allen, George Woodberry, and Frances Winwar--he seldom directly named Weiss as his source. He would instead write statements along the lines of, "Rosalie Poe's foster-brother John Mackenzie said..." or "Rosalie said..." or simply relate anecdotes without giving any source at all. (He often did this trickery with other sources as well.)

This was completely misleading Mabbott's readers. What he quoted was, rather, what Mrs. Weiss--a chronicler who made King Rufus himself seem a model of probity--alleged these people said to her. (Susan Weiss is also, lest we forget, the same person who asserted that Elmira Shelton instigated Poe's murder.) The fact is, we have no statements about Poe that come directly from any of the Mackenzies--I suspect they had only a formal social acquaintance with him--and nothing of any interest or importance from Rosalie, who made it clear to John H. Ingram that she had virtually no personal knowledge about her famous brother--she did not even know she had siblings until she was "a good size girl." In short, Mabbott, Allen, Winwar, Woodberry, et al, relied on uncorroborated and easily discredited hearsay. Mabbott's boast that, unlike others who wrote about Virginia, he was relying on the words of people who were close to Poe, while dismissing first-hand testimony from those who actually did know both the Poes, all of whom lauded Virginia and testified to the couple's devotion to each other, witnesses such as Maria Clemm, Lambert A. Wilmer, George Lippard, Mayne Reid, George R. Graham, Thomas C. Clarke and his daughter Anne, Mary Brennan, William Gowans--even Rufus W. Griswold and Frances S. Osgood, for crying out loud--makes one wonder if Mabbott wasn't permanently possessed by the Imp of the Perverse.

Mabbott's copious and incredibly influential writings (the question of how he obtained this influence is a mystery I will likely never solve) were usually not even bad scholarship--they were bad historical fiction.

3. Sarah Helen Power Whitman

What makes Mrs. Whitman stand out among the parade of Annabel wannabes is that she herself was the sole promoter for her connection to the poem. Sometime after Poe's death, she conceived the notion that "Annabel Lee" was written to her as a "peace offering." She insisted the poem disproved the common belief that Poe went to his grave harboring negative feelings towards her. (Although, in a letter to Rufus W. Griswold written two months after Poe's death, Mrs. Whitman evinced no personal knowledge about the origins of "Annabel Lee"--in fact, she even asked Griswold if he had any idea who had inspired the poem. He offered no opinion on the subject.) To the end of her life, Mrs. Whitman tried, with increasing desperation, to convince the world of her link to "Annabel Lee," and how it proved she had a special place in Poe's heart--despite the fact that she must have been aware that few people, if any, believed her. Of all the parade of possible Annabels, Mrs. Whitman's exercise in self-delusion is undoubtedly the saddest and most pitiful of the lot.



Next post: The Annabel Also-Rans.

History Is Not the Only Thing That Repeats Itself

"Is this plagiarism or is it not?--I merely ask for information."
-Edgar Allan Poe, "Marginalia"

Sorry for the lack of activity this week. My computer had some sort of wardrobe malfunction that stripped off what I had planned to post yesterday, and "real life" events are delaying me from rewriting it all. While I put Humpty Dumpty back together again, I couldn't resist presenting you, just for fun, with a brief encore from my last post. Here are a few more "Raven's Bride"/"Very Young Mrs. Poe" comparisons:

The scene: The newly-married Edgar and Virginia are on the train to Petersburg...

O'Neal: "As the train pulled out of the depot and onto the bridge across the James River, Eddy pointed out Gamble's Hill rising to the right above the State Armory and the ironworks situated on the banks of the canal. He shouted the names into her ear. But when the train stopped for a few minutes outside Manchester, just across the river, they were both mute again."

Hart: "As we chugged away from the confines of Richmond, Eddy leaned over and shouted the names of landmarks into my ear: 'Gamble's Hill. The State Armory, there. Oh--and the Tredegar Iron Works.' By the time we stopped briefly at Manchester, on the opposite side of the James River, he'd fallen silent again, either out of names or out of breath."

O'Neal: "Sissy was sure that she could smell the blossoms in spite of the wood smoke which funneled out of the locomotive stack and sometimes swirled around the ladies' coach, stinging her eyes and bringing on fits of coughing. Whenever anything seemed to mar her comfort Eddy's eyes would become filled with anxiety, but she would smile, and, if the ladies were not looking, reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze."

Hart: "Sometimes smoke swirled around inside the car like an evil genie, stinging our eyes and making us cough. Whenever that happened Eddy bent to me with concern, until I smiled and shook my head to let him know I was fine." "During the rare moments the ladies weren't looking our way, I'd slide a hand along the seat behind the swell of my skirts, capture Eddy's fingers, and give a quick squeeze."

The newlyweds arrive in Petersburg for their honeymoon, where they are greeted by their hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Haines:

O'Neal: "'Welcome to Petersburg,' Mr. Haines said jovially."
Hart: "'Welcome to Petersburg, Mrs. Poe,' he [Haines] boomed."

O'Neal: "'Did the trip tire you, Mrs. Poe?' Mrs. Haines asked as her husband clucked the horses into motion. 'No. I enjoyed it very much.' 'Of course. Imagine my asking a bride if a train trip tired her on her wedding day. They didn't have trains when I was married. We rode all day in a stagecoach. But I don't think I was tired either.'"

Hart: "Hiram Haines asked whether the trip had tired me out. 'No, not a bit,' I assured him." "Mrs. Haines laughed. 'Pshaw. She can't possibly be tired, Mr. Haines. Remember back when we wed? There were no trains then so we rode all day long on a stagecoach to our honeymoon cottage. And yet I was not fatigued, not one little bit!"

Enough. I'm starting to feel like Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day." See you next week, when, I swear it, things will get back to what passes for normal around here. In the meantime, let me leave everyone with a question that has been nagging at me ever since I did this little experiment of reading both these novels simultaneously. I have yet to find a solution to the mystery; perhaps one of you will have better luck. What I would like answered is this:

What in hell was Lenore Hart thinking??!!

My Little Longfellow War

"Is it altogether impossible that a critic be instigated to the exposure of a plagiarism, or still better, of plagiarism generally wherever he meets it, by a strictly honorable and even charitable motive?"
-Edgar Allan Poe, "Mr. Longfellow and Other Plagiarists"

Yes, one more "Raven's Bride" post. Not to fear, I'll be getting back to regularly scheduled programming next week or so. But my observations that many parts of this novel are a virtual cut-and-paste job from "The Very Young Mrs. Poe" have caused a certain amount of, shall we say, unrest in some quarters. Much to my amusement, I've even acquired my very own Outis--although he is hardly of the same caliber as his distinguished predecessor. As a result, I wanted to post a short "reader's guide" listing a sampling of the too-close-to-be-coincidental resemblances between the two novels. I won't list all the exact resemblances I've found--I'm sure they'd be as tedious for you to read as they were for me to compile--but enough for my point to be made.There are entire episodes these two books have in common, which are too lengthy to quote verbatim. Mind you--and this is a point I cannot emphasize enough--I am not speaking of episodes that both writers merely repeated from historical sources. It is, of course, a given that biographical novels about the same person will repeat many of the same incidents of that person's life. I am saying that Lenore Hart's novel repeats events that Cothburn O'Neal invented out of whole cloth. In other words, she used another work of fiction as her main source. For instance, history tells us that when Poe returned to Richmond in the summer of 1835, he stayed at a boardinghouse run by a Mrs. Poore. In October of that year, when he brought Mrs. Clemm and Virginia to live with him in that city, the two women lodged with a Mrs. Yarrington. It is not clear if Poe lived in the same boardinghouse with them, or returned to Mrs. Poore's. That is all we know.

O'Neal expanded upon these few details, creating a scene where the trio arrive at Mrs. Poore's, hoping to find rooms. She refuses to let them in the house. Poe is utterly puzzled by her attitude, but the implication is that her hostility is due to Poe's drunkenness while he lived there. Thomas Cleland then helpfully leads them to Mrs. Yarrington's, where they all take lodgings. These imaginary details--including their initial walk through Richmond to Mrs. Poore's and the description of the room Virginia and her mother are given at the Yarrington house--are all repeated in Hart's book."The Raven's Bride" is even peppered with lines of dialogue and descriptive passages that were copied only from "The Very Young Mrs. Poe." (The main difference is that, while both novels are told from Virginia's viewpoint, "The Raven's Bride" is directly narrated by her.) Some examples from the opening chapters of each book:

In both novels, when Virginia first meets "Eddy" she is a small girl who arrives home after playing with two French neighbor girls.

O'Neal: "...making puppet motions with her hands and repeating the words to a gamesong they had been playing..."

Hart: "...making the sweeping hand motions that went along with our last shared song..."

She comes in to be introduced to her cousin:

O'Neal: "A stranger was sitting...before the empty fireplace, talking to Granny Poe, who was propped up on her couch as usual."

Hart: "Granny Poe was propped up on her settee by the fire, a sight which I'd expected."

In both novels Sissy feels "shy" as she approaches him.

In both novels "Eddy" remarks to her how much he likes her black curls and black eyes.

Later in both books, "Sissy" and "Muddy" are shown on the Light Street Wharf in Baltimore, ready to travel to Richmond. Muddy remarks to her daughter:

O'Neal: "I hope Eddy gets a letter...I'd feel better...if he had had some word from Mr. White."

Hart: "I do wish Eddy had received another letter from Mr. White."

Same scene:

O'Neal: "Sissy felt like hugging her mother. But it was such a public place, so many people around...That would look childish." (She wanted to live up to the chic traveling dress Maria had made for her.)

Hart: "For a moment I wanted to cling to my mother...But people were thronging all around us. Such behavior would look so childish..." (Even the dark traveling dress Muddy had cut down and restitched would not be sufficient to mark her as a grown woman.)

O'Neal: "She [Virginia] turned to look out across the basin toward Federal Hall."

Hart: "I turned away to look out across the basin toward Federal Hall."

O'Neal: "The docks...looked like a forest bare of leaves, the tall masts and spiky yards of...clippers standing naked...resting between trips to Brazil."

Hart: "Clipper ships...[with]...tall naked masts and spiky yards were bare of sails, their snarl of lines a thick forest without leaves...resting between dashes to Brazil and New York and Cuba."

O'Neal: "...his [Eddy's] plain black suit amid the colorful clothes...was all to his advantage. His fine head and scholarly demeanor set him apart."

Hart: "Eddy's black sack coat, black trousers...his broad pale forehead...set him apart to advantage."

O'Neal: "...there was no one on the pier to see them off, since they had already said good-bye to the family. Sissy waved anyway...she could wave farewell to Baltimore."

Hart: "There was no one to say good-bye and see us off...we'd already written or called on the few family and friends left in Baltimore....I waved from my spot at the rail...'She's waving good-bye to Baltimore,' he said..."

O'Neal: "The boat from Norfolk to Richmond was smaller and slower than the one they had boarded in Baltimore. The trip up the James River was more leisurely, too..."

Hart: "The boat we boarded in Norfolk to continue on to Richmond was smaller and a good deal slower than the Baltimore Line steamer. Our trip up the James was more leisurely too."

O'Neal: "Beyond ...the confluence of the Appomattox, the James grew narrower and wound in great loops around Bermuda Hundred."

Hart: "Beyond the confluence of the Appomattox, the James grew narrower and wound in great loops around Bermuda Hundred."

On their arrival in Richmond, Eddy describes Mrs. Poore's boardinghouse.

O'Neal: "She has a large house. There's always room."

Hart: "It's a large house. There's always space."

O'Neal: "The docks were busy, and the wagonette was held up now and then by dray wagons loaded with hogsheads of tobacco and sacks of flour and cornmeal. Sometimes an empty collier's wagon rumbled toward the coal yards...farther upstream."

Hart: "...the docks were very busy. We would lurch forward, only to stop for a dray loaded with sacks of flour and cornmeal, or an empty collier's wagon rumbling...toward the coal yards upstream."

The trio arrives at Mrs. Poore's (and, keep in mind that there is no detailed historical description of the house):

O'Neal: "'This is Capitol Square,' he said. 'Mrs. Poore's house is the next one here on Bank Street.'" "They turned into the yard of a large two-story brick house with a Greek portico fronting in the square. The half-paned front door revealed a well lighted hallway inside. Eddy climbed the steps and opened the door without knocking, just as though he still lived there."

Hart: "'Capitol Square,' he said. 'Mrs. Poore's is the next house on Bank Street.'" "We turned into the yard of a two-story brick structure with a whitewashed Greek portico facing the neatly-planted square. Within lay a wide, well-lighted hall. Eddy opened the door without even ringing a bell or knocking." "'Well, he used to live here,' I whispered."

In both books, the little family gets a negative reception (again, a scene that does not exist in the historical record):

O'Neal: "There was a wait, then the sound of a door opening upstairs. 'What was that, Tom?' a voice shrilled. 'I say Mr. Poe is back--' 'That's what I thought you said,' the voice interrupted. 'Well, you can tell him I don't have a vacancy and I'm not likely to have one.' The door slammed shut....'She doesn't have a vacancy,' he [Cleland] said with a grin. Eddy looked helplessly from Tom to Maria to Sissy and back to Tom. 'What are we to do?' he asked, of anybody."

Hart: "A door creaked shrilly on protesting hinges upstairs, and an equally high voice called down, 'What was that, Tom?'...'I said Edgar Poe is back, and he--' 'That's what I thought you said," the woman shouted. 'Well, you can tell him for me, I do not have lodgings for him, and am not likely to have any now or later!' The hinges squealed derisively as the door slammed again...Cleland turned back, avoiding our eyes. 'Ah, well, It seems my mother-in-law has no vacancy here just now.' Eddy stared at him helplessly. 'But I--then what are we to do?'"

In both books is the same completely imaginary scene where, after Virginia has some very unsettling "lessons" with the mentally disturbed Rosalie Poe--something that never happened in reality--she upsets "Eddy" by saying she can't help but love Rosalie, as he is so much like her. He runs off hysterically, crying out (in both books) "We are nothing alike." Later that night, he returns to their boardinghouse, and visits the room Virginia and her mother share.

O'Neal: "'I wanted to say good night,' he [Eddy] said...He pecked her [Mrs. Clemm] on the cheek. Then he kissed Sissy on the lips. There was no liquor on his breath. Perhaps that was what he wanted known. He made no explanations. No one asked him where he had been or what he had been doing. He looked tired, haggard...'It is good to come home to a room that has love and beauty in it,' he said."

Hart: "I wanted to say good night,' Eddy muttered from the foot of the bed...He came around and kissed my mother's cheek, then moved to my side and pressed his mouth to mine...He did not explain, and I did not ask where he'd been...he looked gaunt and hollow and tired. 'It's good to come home to such love and beauty,' he whispered...There'd been no taint of liquor on his breath. Perhaps that was why he'd kissed me full on the mouth, in front of my mother. So I would know that."

After Eddy and Virginia are married, they take a train to Petersburg for their honeymoon. In both novels, the conductor, recognizing them as newlyweds, escorts them to the ladies' coach so they may sit together.

O'Neal: "He [the conductor] asked permission of the half-dozen lady passengers to bring them aboard. 'If you ladies don't object,' he said, 'I will close my eyes to company rules and allow the groom to sit in the ladies' coach with his lovely bride.'...She [Sissy] felt that she passed inspection...It was difficult to determine the age of a young lady, especially if she were reasonably well filled out and modestly veiled. 'I must ask you not to smoke, Mr. Poe,' the conductor warned in parting. 'Smoking is restricted to the gentleman's car on the rear.' 'Thank you,' Eddy said. 'I seldom smoke.'"

Hart: "'Going to flout company rules, folks, and seat you all in the second coach.' He [the conductor] grinned at Eddy. 'Already cleared it with the ladies aboard.' When we climbed up no one looked askance or asked how old I was. Of course, if a female is veiled and reasonably well filled out, it's hard to tell her exact age anyhow. The conductor left after admonishing the groom, 'Smoking is restricted to the gentleman's car at the rear, sir.'...'Thank you for the information,' he said. 'In any case, I seldom smoke.'"

Both novels have a scene where William Burton comes to their house for dinner. (There is no historical record of this happening, and it is highly unlikely, as the two detested each other.) In both scenes, Burton offers to hire Virginia for his theatre, has an identical discussion with her about comedy being "a very serious business," (an observation of Virginia's which in both scenes has Burton holding a piece of cake halfway to his mouth in surprise,) and where Burton seeks to hire Poe for his new magazine.

In both novels, the scene with Burton is immediately followed by one where the Poes go boating on the Wissahickon. (O'Neal drew the scene from Poe's essay, "Morning On the Wissahickon," but added Virginia to the outing.) Again, we have no proof this ever actually took place. In both novels, Poe comes up with a skiff that someone had left on the bank. When Virginia objects to him appropriating it, he answers that the owner can steal their horse in exchange. They have a picnic where, afterwards, Eddy rests with his head in Virginia's lap. In both scenes, there is reference to their hopes of living someday in a cottage overlooking the river.

In both books is a scene where Eddy gets drunk on his way back from Henry Hirst's office. He stays away overnight, although there is hot soup waiting for him. Virginia spends the night in her mother's room, suffering terrible nightmares about what might have befallen him. The next day, as Mrs. Clemm goes out to look for him, Virginia anxiously prepares dinner for three--hot biscuits and sweet potatoes. Mrs. Clemm finally brings back the intoxicated Eddy. He has with him a caged talking bird (in O'Neal's book, it is a parrot; in Hart's, a black bird.)

In both books is a scene where Virginia forces her doctor (in O'Neal's book, Dr. Mitchell; in Hart's, Dr. English) to tell her how much time she has left. These two scenes--of which we have no historical record--are virtually similar.

In both novels, Virginia develops pneumonia. (Again, there is no factual evidence for this.) In both cases, Rosalie comes to help attend her. The combination of Virginia's illness and his sister's presence causes Eddy to go on a bender. Their landlady brings her some broth, commenting on how thin Virginia looks.

Both novels have Eddy getting into a quarrel with a "young lieutenant" at his gymnasium after Eddy outpoints him in a pistol-shooting contest. In both cases, the lieutenant tells Eddy that poets have no intelligence or common sense, and can't be trusted with firearms. In both novels, Virginia is suffering from a touch of pleurisy at the time. The Poes are both feeling ill, and are confined to bed, much to their mutual boredom, although Virginia suspects Eddy is just "sulking." Virginia recovers, although Muddy won't let her out of bed until she is free of pain and fever for two days. While the two invalids are recuperating, Eddy quickly solves a magazine's word puzzle, which gives him the idea of offering a public challenge for people to send him cryptograms to solve. The thought inspires him to rise from his sickbed, get dressed, and go out the door, fully recovered. To repeat: This fictitious scenario O'Neal invented appears in both books.

In both novels, after Virginia has her first hemorrhage, doctors order her to bed for many months. This evidently did not happen in reality. (Also, in both novels her initial physician is none other than a kindly Thomas Dunn English. Although English had a physician's license, he does not seem to have ever actually practiced as a doctor--and we certainly have no reason to believe Virginia was ever his patient.)

In both novels, there is the same scene when they are living at the Brennan Farm. Eddy is going into town, so Virginia--who is trying to convince him that she is well--takes advantage of his absence to take some laudanum and rest. Because of the heavy snowfall, he returns unexpectedly, and is aghast to find her in bed. In both scenes, he picks up the laudanum bottle and asks her, "How long have you been taking this?" In O'Neal's book, his question is described as "not an accusation; it was a petition, a supplication, a plea for a reprieve from doom." In Hart's, it is "less a medical inquiry than a child's plea: Tell me a story. Make me believe all is well, and will end happily ever after." In both cases, the scene ends with Poe brooding on birds and coming up with the genesis for "The Raven."

All the above does not fully detail all the fictional resemblances to be found in these two books. Not even close. I think, however, I have given enough examples. I find it impossible to believe that, after reading all this, any disinterested observer could fail to see that there are major-league shenanigans afoot. I truly have never come across anything like this.

The Hazards of Poe Fiction: "The Raven's Bride" Revisited

I have noticed that over the past two weeks or so, this blog have gotten a number of hits where people appear to be looking for information related to Lenore Hart's recent Virginia Poe novel. Elsewhere online, it has struck me that readers who are unfamiliar with Poe take this work of fiction as some sort of "guidebook" to his real life--which is hardly the case. The novel is well-written and often intriguing, and I always appreciate Poe's wife getting some of the spotlight. However, certain things about "Bride" were simply utterly misguided, and I hate the thought that unwary readers will assume they were based on solid historical research. This seems to be a common trap for fans of historical fiction, and if it seems odd that I'm spending so much time discussing a mere novel, it's because I have come to believe that works of fiction have a greater influence than any biography in shaping general public perceptions of a historical figure. Just look at Shakespeare and Richard III.

Leaving aside the "Raven's Bride"/"Very Young Mrs. Poe" connection (and, again, I hope fans of Hart's novel will read Cothburn O'Neal's book and come to their own conclusions about that matter,) these are a few of the myths I fear this novel will popularize:

1. I assume in the interests of heightened drama, Hart way oversold the "Poe lived in poverty" angle. Yes, the Poes were never rolling in wealth. (Something that, I am convinced, was never important to them anyway.) Yes, there were several periods when they faced serious financial problems, most notably in the months before and after Virginia's death. However, Hart gives the impression that the Poe trio lived in practically unrelieved depressing and degrading squalor. Their lodgings are consistently described as "dingy," their clothes as humiliatingly "shabby," their tableware cracked and chipped. If you take Hart's word for it, Poe made Oliver Twist look like Louis XIV. And Virginia is depicted as privately gnashing her teeth in misery at the deplorable existence her feckless husband has imposed upon her.

This is, to say the least, exaggerated. Despite their lack of funds, contemporaries agree that Poe and his wife always dressed quietly, but with taste and even a modicum of style. Their clothing was always perfectly respectable. Similarly, their various living quarters were invariably described as simple, but comfortable, immaculate, and even charming. We know that, right into 1846, Virginia even owned unnecessary little luxuries such as stationery--which must have been custom-made--embossed with her initials (she owned another set with a flowered pattern,) and an elegant cut-glass perfume bottle. An acquaintance later described Virginia as having been "brought up in the South in perfect indolence and perfectly unfitted for toil. Her hands have never been soiled with work." Such details hardly indicate a hardscrabble existence. The Poe household may have been monetarily poor, but they surrounded themselves with what Poe's biographer Arthur H. Quinn described as "the neatness and self-respecting atmosphere, for which all three of the family were responsible." Their final New York City residence was located in what was then the most fashionable part of town. It should be noted that, even with the ill health she endured the last five years of her life, Virginia's friends all described her as a very cheerful, vivacious, happy personality who appeared utterly content with her lot. It is a disservice to both Virginia and Edgar that Hart failed to acknowledge that aspect of their story. There is no indication anywhere that Virginia ever regretted her life, or blamed her husband in any way for whatever problems they faced. Not one.

2. Poe's drinking was also overemphasized. It would be futile to deny that he had a problem with alcohol, but he was hardly the chronic "dipsomaniac" (Hart's words) portrayed in the novel. However, "Poe the drunk" has become such a beloved legendary figure--rather like Santa Claus--that it scarcely seems worthwhile pointing this out.

3. Hart completely misrepresents Poe's view of the afterlife. She depicts him as basically an atheist, convinced that there is nothing after we die, and that everyone we love is lost to us forever. If she had ever bothered to read "Eureka," or "The Island of the Fay," or "The Poetic Principle"--practically anything he ever wrote, for all that--she would have realized her grave error. (For anyone interested in Poe's religious views, Edward Wagenknecht's "Edgar Allan Poe: The Man Behind the Legend" closes with a fine chapter on the subject.)

4. Hart made a complete muddle of the Poe/Ellet/Osgood scandal. Most books about Poe inevitably do, as the subject is so murky and confounding, but I get the feeling she didn't even try to understand what happened. (And, of course, she also included that stale canard about Mrs. Osgood supposedly being estranged from her husband.) Hart simply combined two different, contradictory pieces of completely unverified gossip, and wound up with an illogical mess that doesn't even fit the few facts we have on the subject. For anyone who's interested, I've chronicled the whole complicated unpleasantness involving Poe and those two women here, here and here. (Incidentally, Hart's sloppy research is typified by her description of the very married Elizabeth Ellet as "Miss." And I am confounded by Hart's decision to have all the other characters call her "Lizzie." Mrs. Ellet was called a great many things by her contemporaries--few of which are repeatable here--but I can guarantee "Lizzie" was not among them. And I feel equally confident in asserting that Mrs. Osgood was never on a first-name basis with Poe or Virginia.)

I also found it interesting that Hart couldn't even make up her mind what Poe's relationship to Frances S. Osgood may have been. At one point, he mocks her personally and is unenthusiastic about her poetry. Then, he suddenly winds up in a public "flirtation" with her, and Hart describes him as appearing "disappointed" when Virginia tells him Osgood wants to be friends with both of them--the implication being that he had hoped for something more with the lady. This, of course, makes a startling and inexplicable contrast to Virginia's calm certainty that her husband "loved only me. I had his undying devotion, and all his true attention, in life and on the page..." Then, towards the end of the novel, Virginia classifies Osgood as just another of the literary women whom Poe "wooed" simply in the hopes of getting "favors" or "patronage" from them. (A rather ugly and unfounded smear Hart seems to have picked up from Cothburn O'Neal. In truth, these women were doing the "wooing" to win "favors" or "patronage" from him.) Also, Virginia feels no jealousy about the poems Poe and Osgood published to each other, as she realizes that such writings were merely "a reflection of the poet's ego, not the subject's life." But then, Virginia is depicted as being aware that "Poor Frances Osgood" is in love with Poe. How does she know this? From Osgood's poetry!

Couldn't Hart have made up her mind what she wanted to write before she sat down at the keyboard?

5. Hart's lack of knowledge about Poe is revealed by her ludicrous depiction of Thomas Dunn English as a kindly fellow who acted as Virginia's physician. (This bizarre touch is among her "borrowings" from Cothburn O'Neal.) For anyone who knows the true Poe/English history, this adds a positively surreal tone to the novel.

6. A central theme of the novel is Virginia's stifled dream to be a professional singer. Although we know she played the harp and piano, and was said to have a lovely singing voice, we have no indication she ever harbored any sort of professional ambitions. Virginia was described by everyone who knew her as a strong character, but very modest, dignified, and private, which makes this supposed aching desire to perform publicly seem unlikely. And I doubt her mother and husband would have objected if she had harbored such longings. After all, Poe's mother was an actress and singer, and he was very proud of the fact. As I noted in an earlier post, he publicly asserted the intrinsic morality of the stage, and strongly championed female performers. If his wife had dreamed of following in Eliza Poe's footsteps, I suspect he and "Muddy" would have been supportive, rather than horrified. However, I did not find the idea that she had such dreams convincing. I suspect Hart devised this "would-be career woman" plotline--which comes off as jarringly anachronistic--in order to make it easier for the modern-day female reader to "relate" to Virginia. (I got the strong feeling that "The Raven's Bride" was essentially written for teenage girls.)

7. As was the case in O'Neal's book, Poe's sister Rosalie plays a much larger role than the facts warrant. Rosalie herself admitted that she knew virtually nothing about Edgar and did not even know she had siblings until she was grown. There was always little contact between the two, and what relationship they had was decidedly chilly on both sides. (Although, once Edgar was dead, Rosalie never hesitated to exploit her connection to him.)

8. If I had to pick one thing I disliked about this novel, it was the air of subterranean hostility between the three principals. If you believe Hart, Virginia and her mother secretly resented Poe because he drank and couldn't hold a job. Virginia secretly resented her mother for dominating her. (This domination extended to the point where Mrs. Clemm was able to intimidate Edgar and Virginia into not consummating their marriage for two years!) Mrs. Clemm secretly resented Virginia for fighting this domination. Poe secretly resented them both because their presence kept him from speedily drinking himself to death. (And, of course, Virginia sensed his resentment--and resented him back for it, with interest.) I would not object to seeing such emotions depicted, if it wasn't for the fact that there is nothing on record to support any of it. Even Poe's worst enemies acknowledged that his family life was unusually close, loving, happy, and mutually supportive, with no hint of the clenched-fist antagonisms Hart imagined. Mrs. Clemm expressed nothing less than the truth when she wrote, "We three lived only for each other." Why do modern-day novelists have to turn every family relationship into something out of Tennessee Williams?

9. Just for the record, history gives no indication that Virginia ever had pneumonia. Hart evidently acquired that plotline from Cothburn O'Neal's novel. Similarly, we have no evidence that "Sissy" was a general "family name" for Virginia. As far as we know, no one except her husband ever called her by that pet name. Make of that what you will. The source for Hart's belief that "Sissy" was an appellation used by all her relatives appears to be...Cothburn O'Neal. (The same goes for the idea that Maria Clemm's mother was called "Granny Poe.")

I realize this entire post has an "Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?" quality. There are some things to like about this novel, and I would not wish to dissuade anyone from reading "The Raven's Bride"--if for no other reason than that Virginia is in desperate need of reappraisals. There certainly are worse books about Poe in circulation. I just want to emphasize that this is very definitely a work of fiction. Magna est veritas et praevalebit.

More Poe-Related Poetry

...Whether you like it or not.

As I have already posted several poems inspired by the mystique of Edgar Allan Poe, I thought that, in the interests of equality, I should include a tribute to his wife. The following anonymous poem, entitled simply, "Virginia Clemm," was published in honor of Poe's 100th birthday. As odes go, it's certainly no "Annabel Lee," but there is a sweet sincerity in these awkward, rather awful lines that I find oddly touching. If nothing else, it is a demonstration on the remarkable hold both Edgar and Virginia had acquired over the imaginations of so many readers. (Incidentally, this poem's theme of "If a woman as admirable as Virginia could love Edgar Poe, the guy couldn't have been that bad," was a popular, if slightly backhanded, argument used by his early defenders.)

If he had had no other thing,
No harp upon whose diverse string
To strike with music's sovran spell
The witchering note of Israfel;
If he had had no other art
Except this lad's love in the heart,
This holy, pure, unsullied flame--
It would have been immortal fame!

If he had had no other light
Except this love to lead him right;
If he had had no other dream
Except this woman's eyes of gleam,
No man e'er had so much as he
To lift his soul in melody,
No man e'er had such diadem
As thy pure love--Virginia Clemm!

Oh, spirit that in shadow moved,
This any, o'er the rest, beloved!
What though he bent beneath the care
Whose bitter brood stalks everywhere;
What though he suffers slander yet
From tongues of scorn against him met;
Had he no other single claim
On time, his love would crown his name!

Sting, sting, the dead cannot arise!
But O Virginia, in thine eyes
He was a lover, and we know
Your love uplifted all below;
You would not, could not, love, indeed,
A worthless thing, a bitter weed;
Thy love around him makes hate vain
And wipes out every mortal stain!

Truth mocks the living through the dead;
Hate, writhing on Procrustean bed,
Sees the thing slayed by it unslayed,
Sees the thing cursed by it remade;
So from his shadow and his night
Poe walks out into newer light,
Grandeur upon him in that she
Dwelt in his heart's idolatry!

She was his sun and star and moon,
His ambient autumn and his June,
His balmy cloud, his pillared sea,
His gate to music's mystery;
There by her bed he saw her perish
Whom he had not the food to cherish;
His summer died--alone with Strife
He fought the unfinished fight of Life!

Time has his song and fame his art,
But in her spirit dwells his heart,
Who with her whole soul drew and drew
His own soul, singing, through and through.
A woman, yet a little child,
Set all his wondrous harp strings wild;
And so we say that it were best
Take up his love and leave the rest!

Tear from his brow the singer's Lay,
Take all his crowns of art away;
Strip him of genius, say he sinned,
Yet over Paradise a wind
Wafting the balmy rose of spring
Shall crown him kinglier than a king
Whose spiritual passion won this gem--
The saintly, sweet Virginia Clemm!