Halloween With Edgar

What is Halloween without Edgar Allan Poe?  What is Edgar Allan Poe without absurd, insulting apocryphal stories about his drinking habits?

This little anecdote made the rounds of the newspapers during October of 1893. Consider the combined Halloween/booze elements as something of a Poe Apotheosis.

An Early Poe Memorial Poem

The following poem appeared in the "New York Tribune" a few weeks after that paper published Rufus W. Griswold's infamous obituary of Poe. These lines are clearly a direct rebuttal to Griswold's libelous eulogy.

While these anonymous verses may not be great poetry, they do stand as a heartfelt tribute to the deep effect that Poe's work had on many of his contemporaries--even ones who, like this unknown poet, probably never laid eyes on the man. On this, the anniversary of Poe's death, it's good to remember that despite the popular current-day legend, there were many people in his time who loved Poe and mourned his passing. There have always been those of us who "feel in Poe we had a friend."

It is not true, "the Poet had no friends."
There's not a hamlet nor a way-side cot
Throughout the land, where misery has dwelt,
But furnished him a friend--warm, heart-felt friend.
'Tis true they did not swell the air with praise
And loud-toned, fulsome acclamation,
(Like purse-made friends, who never tell the heart
Their friendship,) for his soul seemed theirs--
His lips and pen their speaking oracles--
His harp, their tale of wrong and suffering.
There's not a spirit crushed by time and grief,
And silent in its heart-wrecked misery,
(A looker-on, midst homage ill-deserved,)
But feels in Poe he had a friend, and Poe
A friend in him.

There is a class of men who feel some wrong
In every freak of circumstance and chance--
But these were not his friends. His were the souls
Who, through the live-long day and darkling night,
Conjure no wrong--but writhe with it, and pride,
Till, broken-down in spirit, Death relieves.
It may have been that on thy youthful brow,
Shaded by curls and love, and in the eye
Nature had written Genius--Child of Song!
If this--and dark obscurity were his,
We have a key to wrongs most exquisite;
And in the wreck of hopes, when cheeks have paled
And curls lie matted o'er the sunken eye,
No wonder we should see Poe's world-sick friend
Striving in silence to let the soul go free.
It may have been that chilling poverty
Had stepped between his heart and her he loved,
Changing his crimson hopes to dark despair,
Freezing the morning of his look and life--
If so--I pledge you he became Poe's friend
For lending him his Annabel, and song.
Ah! many a friend, around the grave of Poe,
Will help to plant the willow o'er his head,
Shading his harp and him, low sleeping there;
And with a lynx-eyed jealousy, will watch
And shield from weaker pens his memory.
His was a heart too big for mortal frame;
And in that soul that, rearing up dark things
For men to stare at, turned his gaze to Heaven,
When o'er the quiet Earth deep twilight hang,
Shading the face of nature (that the light
Her sleep might not disturb,) we see a star
That rises in the firmament of thought
So far above its fellows, that we start
To know it had a habitation here,
And fear 'tis sacrilege in hearts like ours
To feel we are Poe's Friends!
-Chicago, Oct. 1849

PSA

This is just to give a heads-up that I've enabled comments on this blog, in the unlikely event that anyone wishes to communicate with me.

The house policy is simple:  No spam, no trolls, no jerks.  Which probably means that my first action as site moderator will have to be to block myself.

That Motley Drama

In case you missed the news, a "newly-discovered" MS. of "The Conqueror Worm" sold for $300,000 at auction the other day--before it had even been authenticated.

Considering the really quite frightening number of Poe forgeries (many still undetected) out there, this seems like quite a financial gamble.  I have to admit, it would amuse the hell out of me if this turned out to be another example of Charles Hamilton's Law.

But then, I'm evil.

I'll update this post if and when the manuscript is fully vetted.

P.S. Anyone else remember this little debacle, described here by the Poe Society of Baltimore?

Why Does the World Hate Me?

I just came across this upcoming novel.  From the descriptions, it sounds like a complete stinker, even by the usually abysmal standards of Poe fiction.

I don't think I can even bring myself to read this thing when it comes out.  I just can't bear to plow through another idiot book that utterly trashes the poor man, especially with the knowledge that readers who don't know any better will assume it's based on some kind of fact.  I do not have the stomach for it anymore.  And this myth about the Poe/Frances Osgood "love affair" is like something out of a horror movie:  No matter how many times you think you've killed the beast, it keeps coming back to life.

Lynn Cullen, you've put me in a very bad mood today.

Another Day, Another Utterly Bogus Poe Quote

Read this, and let's all weep together.

Edgar Allan Poe, Insurance Salesman

As part of my ongoing efforts to have the two most peculiar blogs on the Internet, over at the sister site, I've posted an advertisement from 1890 where they used "The Bells" to nag people into buying fire insurance.

You never know where Poe will turn up next.

The Fever Called Blogging

In what I can only assume was a moment of madness, I started a new blog: Strange Company. I’m not sure how to describe it—it’ll have no particular theme other than chatting about incidents and people from history that happen to appall/interest/amuse me. In other words, it’ll probably be an incoherent mess.

Yeah, Edgar's agreed to come along for the ride.

I don’t intend to give up on this blog altogether, but I’m in the mood for finding new ways to make a pest of myself, and thought I’d give this new project a whirl. If any of you decide to take a look, I hope you find something you feel is worth a few moments of your time. I’m kicking things off with the story of a nameless, legless man who became one of Nova Scotia’s most famous mysteries.

See you!