In the year 1829, my uncle, Dr. Archer, then Post Surgeon at Fortress Monroe, was one day called to the hospital to attend a private soldier known as Edgar A. Perry. Finding him a young man of superior manners and education, his interest was aroused, and his patient, won by his sympathy, finally confessed that his real name was Edgar A. Poe, and that he was the adopted son of Mr. John Allan, of Richmond; and also expressed an earnest desire to leave the army, in which he had now been for two years, the term of enlistment being five years.
Dr. Archer informed the commanding officer of these revelations, and as Perry,aliasPoe, had proven himself in all respects a model soldier, interest in his case was at once aroused. It was suggested that, with his education and the social position which he had enjoyed, a cadetship at West Point would bemore suited to him than the place of a private at Fortress Monroe. Poe, in his anxiety to be rid of the army, was willing enough to accept this proposal, and by the advice of his new friends wrote to Mr. Allan, informing him of his wishes and asking his assistance.
For some time he received no answer; but at length there came a letter which must have caused his heart a pang of real sorrow. It was from Mr. Allan, informing him of the death of his wife, and directing him to apply for a furlough and come on at once to Richmond, where he arrived two days after her burial.
Woodbury is mistaken in saying that in all this time Mr. Allan had not known of Edgar's whereabouts. According to Miss Valentine, Poe never at any time ceased entirely to correspond with Mrs. Allan, who never, to her dying day, lost her interest in the boy whom she had loved as a son, and neither ceased her endeavors to reconcile himself and her husband, urging Edgar to return and Mr. Allan to receive him. In anticipation of such result, she kept his room as he had left it, ready for his occupation at any time that it might suit his wayward fancy to return.
Mr. Allan talked to Poe seriously, and, finding that his great desire was to get a dischargefrom the army, promised to assist him; but only upon condition of his entering West Point, by which there would be secured to him an honorable and independent position for life, and Allan himself be relieved from all responsibility concerning him. But that he had not entirely forgiven Edgar was evident from a letter to the latter's commanding officer, wherein he exposes, unnecessarily, perhaps, the youth's gambling habits at the University, declaring that "he is no relation of mine whatever, and no more to me than many others who, being in need, I have regarded as being my care." Poe must have felt this latter as a humiliation; and it was certainly not calculated to increase his regard for the writer.
Poe's career at West Point is well known. At first all went well. One of his Virginia comrades, Col. Allan Magruder, describes him as of a simple and kindly nature, but, by reason of his distance and reserve, not popular with the cadets, and that he at length confined his association exclusively to Virginians. But the old discontent and impatience of restraint returned upon him, and after some months he wrote to Mr. Allan that he wished to leave West Point—a step to which the latter positively refused his assistance.
Finding nobody inclined to help him, he resolved to force his discharge. He purposely neglected his studies and military duties, deliberately violated the rules, engaged—it was said by some—in all sorts of disgraceful pranks; and finally was tried by court-martial and, on March 7, 1831, dismissed from the institute.
It has been naturally inferred that Poe's object in this voluntary self-sacrifice was simply to free himself from the irksomeness of military duties which, on trial, he found so opposed to his taste and inclination. But perhaps the real motive was one which has never yet been suspected.
Some time after Poe's death I was informed by a lady that, being in company where the conversation turned upon the poet and his writings, one who did not admire the latter remarked that Edgar Poe could have been of more use to both himself and others by remaining at West Point and adopting the army as a profession. To this an old army officer, Capt. Patrick Galt, replied that he had been informed by one who had been a classmate of Poe that the latter had been driven away from West Point by the slights and snubs of the cadets on account of his parentage and his bringing up as an object of charity. West Point, this officer declared, had in Poe's time been a very hotbed of aristocratic prejudice and pretension, and, Poe's history being known, these young aristocrats held themselves aloof, while the more snobbish among them, probably by reason of his reserve and acknowledged superiority in some respects, did not hesitate to attempt to humiliate him on occasion. Poe, he said, probably knew that this odium would in a measure attach to him throughout his whole military career, and he acted wisely in declining to expose himself to it.
Hence the shyness and reserve of which some of his fellow-cadets speak, and his exclusive association with Virginians, who generally stand by each other.
In the meantime Mr. Allan had contracted a second marriage, the lady being a Miss Louisa Patterson, of New Jersey. She was thirty years of age; not handsome, but of dignified and courteous manners, with large, strongly-marked features, indicative of decision of character and, as was said, of a will of her own. Nevertheless, she was amiably inclined, and as a society leader very tactful and diplomatic. One marked characteristic of hers was that she never forgave the least slight or disrespect to herself, though the offender were but a child; and of this I remember some curious instances in my own acquaintance with her, many years after the time of which I speak.
It does not appear how Poe received the news of this marriage; but one thing seems certain—that, strangely enough, the idea never occurred to him that it in any way affected hisown position in Mr. Allan's house. He had never received from the latter any word to that effect; Miss Valentine (his "Aunt Nancy"), with the old servants, who had known, and served, and loved him from his babyhood, were still there, and doubtless his room was still being kept, as ever before, ready for his occupation.
It was therefore with perfect confidence that, upon being dismissed from West Point, he proceeded to Richmond, having barely enough money to pay his way, and, sounding the brazen knocker of Mr. Allan's door, greeted the old servant pleasantly, handing him his traveling bag to be carried to his room, at the same time asking for Miss Valentine.
The answer of the servant astonished him. His old room had been taken by Mrs. Allan as a guest-chamber and his personal effects removed to "the end-room." This was the last of several small apartments opening upon a narrow corridor extending on one side of the house above the kitchen and the servants' apartments. It had at one time been occupied by Mrs. Allan's maid.
On receiving this information, Poe was extremely indignant, and, refusing to have hiscarpet-bag carried to that room, requested to see Mrs. Allan.
The lady came down to the parlor in all her dignity, and answered to his inquiry that she had arranged her house to suit herself; that she had not been informed that Mr. Poe had any present claim to that room or that he was expected again to occupy it. Warm words ensued, and she reminded him that he was a pensioner on her husband's charity, which provoked him to more than hint that she had married Mr. Allan from mercenary motives. This was enough for the lady. She sent for her husband, who was at his place of business, and who, upon hearing her account of the interview, coupled with the assertion that "Edgar Poe and herself could not remain a day under the same roof," without seeing Poe, sent to him an imperative order to leave the house at once, which he immediately did. It was told by himself that as he crossed the hall Mr. Allan hastily entered it from a side-door and called harshly to him, at the same time drawing out his purse, but that he, without pause or notice, continued on his way.
This account of the rupture between Poe and the Allans I heard from the Mackenzies and Mrs. Julia Mayo Cabell, wife of Poe'sschoolboy friend, Dr. Robert G. Cabell, to whom Poe himself related it. The friends of the Allens gave a much more sensational account of the affair, which was much discussed, and went the rounds of the city, with such additions and exaggerations as gossip could invent, until it culminated at length in the dark picture with which Griswold horrified the world.
It was to this incident that Poe alluded when he told Mrs. Whitman that "his pride had led him to deliberately throw away a large fortune rather than submit to a trivial wrong."
When Poe, after leaving Mr. Allan's door, crossed the lawn and passed out of the gate, can any one realize how momentous was the instant of time in which the gate closed after him, or what a woeful human tragedy was in that instant inaugurated? The closing of the gate meant the shutting out forever of his past life; the clang of the iron latch was the knell of all that had been bright and pleasant and prosperous in that life, now lost to him forever. There he stood, homeless, penniless, friendless, utterly alone in the world, with a pathless future before him, shadowy, dim, no hand to point him onward and no star to guiden. From this moment commences the true history of Edgar A. Poe.
On leaving the Allan house, Poe went directly to the Mackenzies, the only place to which he could turn, and spent several dayswith these kind friends, discussing what would be best for him to do, now that he had his own way to make in the world. They advised him to begin by teaching, until he could see his way more clearly; but Richmond was at present no place for him, and he decided to go to Baltimore, where his relatives, knowing the city so well, might be able to assist him. The Mackenzies gave him what money they could spare, and Miss Valentine, on hearing where he was, sent more.
But in Baltimore Poe found himself coldly received by his relatives. Since his miserable failure at West Point, when his prospects had seemed so bright and all conspiring for his good, they had lost all faith in him, and did not propose to trouble themselves on his account. On his last visit, Neilson Poe, at whose house he was staying, had obtained for him a place in an editor's office, which after a brief trial Poe threw up. He now again applied for that place, but failed; as also in his application for the position of assistant teacher in some academy. And now commenced that wretched life of wandering, and penury, and, according to Mr. Kennedy, of actual starvation, which is as sad as any other such history in literature, with the exception of that of poor Chatterton.His days were passed in roaming about the streets in search of employment—anything by which he could obtain food and at night a miserable place where to rest his weary limbs. He wrote a few stories which he endeavored to dispose of to editors, but met with no success.
Many stories have been told in regard to this unhappy period of Poe's life. One, related by a Richmond man, stated that, being in Baltimore about the time in question, he one day had occasion to visit a brick-yard, when there passed him by a line of men bearing the freshly moulded bricks to the kiln. Glancing at them casually, he was amazed to recognize among them Edgar Poe. He could not be mistaken, having been for years familiar with his appearance. Whether Poe recognized him, he could not say; but when he returned next day he was not there, nor did any one know of the name of Poe among the laborers. It was the opinion of this man that he had merely picked up a day's job for a day's need.
He was said to have been recognized in other equally uncongenial occupations, but relief was at hand in the time of his sorest need.
His father's sister, Mrs. Maria Clemm, who had for some years been living in a New York country town, supporting herself and little daughter by dressmaking, about this time returned to Baltimore, and hearing from the Poes of the presence of her brother's son in the city, commenced a search for him. She found him, at length, ill—really ill; and at once took him to her own humble home, installing him in a room which had been furnished for a lodger, and from that hour attended and cared for him with a true motherly devotion.
Those who believe in the spirit of the old adage, "Blood is thicker than water," may imagine what a blessed relief this was to the weary and almost despairing wanderer. Here he had what he needed almost as much as he did food—rest; rest for the weak and exhausted body and for the anxious mind as well.Here, in the quiet little room, he could lie and dream, in the blissful consciousness that near him were the watchful eyes and careful hands of his own father's sister, ready to attend to his slightest want. And from the day on which he first entered her humble abode Poe was never more to be a homeless wanderer. To him it proved ever a safe little harbor, a sure haven of refuge and repose in all storms and troubles that assailed, even to his life's end.
Mrs. Clemm was at this time a strong, vigorous woman, somewhat past middle age, and of large frame and masculine features. Her manner was dignified and well-bred, and she was possessed of abundant self-reliance, ready resource, and, as must be said, of clever artifice as well, where artifice was necessary to the accomplishment of a purpose. Her abode, though plainly and cheaply furnished, was a picture of neatness and such comfort as she could afford to give it; but her means were only what could be derived from dressmaking, taking a lodger or two, and at times teaching a few small children.
This state of affairs dawned upon Poe as he slowly recovered from his fever-dreams; and he again became aware of the strong necessity of further exertion on his part. Mrs. Clemmwould not allow him to go to a hospital. Probably she feared to lose him. In some degree, isolated from her other kindred, she had in her loneliness found a son, and the pertinacity with which she thenceforth clung to him was something remarkable.
Poe soon resumed his weary search for employment, but for some time without success. In his hours of enforced idleness at home he found employment in teaching his little cousin, Virginia, a pretty and affectionate child of ten years, who, however, was fonder of a walk or a romp with him than of her lessons. She was devoted to her handsome cousin, and having hitherto lived with her mother and with few or no playmates or companions, soon learned to depend upon him for all pleasure or amusement. They called each other both then and ever after, "Buddie" and "Sissy," while Mrs. Clemm was "Muddie" to both.
Of this period of Poe's life in Baltimore, Dr. Snodgrass, a literary Bohemian of the time, has given us glimpses:
"In Baltimore, his chief resort was the Widow Meagher's place, an inexpensive but respectable eating-house, with a bar attached and a room where the customers could indulge in a smoke or a social game of cards. Thiswas frequented chiefly by printers and employees of shipping offices. Poe was a great favorite with the Widow Meagher, a kindly old Irish woman. On entering there you would generally find him seated behind her oyster counter, at which she presided; himself as silent as an oyster, grave and retiring. Knowing him to be a poet, she addressed him always by the old Irish title ofBard, and by this name he was here known. It was, "Bard, have a nip;" "Bard, take a hand." Whenever anything particularly pleased the old woman's fancy, she would request Poe to put it in "poethry," and I have seen many of these little pieces which appeared to me more worthy of preservation than some included in his published works.
It happened that Poe one evening, in his wanderings about the streets, stopped to read a copy ofThe Evening Visitorexposed for sale, and had his attention attracted by the offer of a purse of one hundred dollars for the best original story to be submitted to that journal anonymously. Remembering his rejected manuscripts, he at once hastened home and, making them into a neat parcel, dispatched them to the office of theVisitor, though withlittle or no hope of their meeting with acceptance.
His feelings may therefore be imagined when he shortly received a letter informing him that the prize of one hundred dollars had been awarded to his story of "The Gold Bug," and desiring him to come to the office of theVisitorand receive the money.
It was on this occasion that Poe made the acquaintance of Mr. J. P. Kennedy, author of "Swallow Barn," who proved such a true friend to him in time of need. Mr. Kennedy says he recognized in the thin, pale, shabbily dressed but neatly groomed young man a gentleman, and also that he was starving. He invited him frequently to his table, presented him with a suit of clothes and, seeing how feeble he was, gave him the use of a horse for the exercise which he so much needed. He also obtained for him some employment in the office of theEvening Visitor, whose editor, Mr. Wilmer, accepted several stories from his pen; and it was now, evidently, that Poe decided upon literature as a profession.
Under these favoring conditions Poe rapidly recovered his health and spirits. Mr. Wilmer, who saw a good deal of him at this time, says that when their office work was done theywould often walk out together into the suburbs, generally accompanied by Virginia, who would never be left behind. At the office he was punctual, industrious and his work satisfactory. In all his association with him he never saw him under the influence of intoxicants or knew him to drink except once, moderately, when he opened a bottle of wine for a visitor.
I once clipped from a Baltimore paper the following article by a reporter to whom the story was related by "a lively and comely old lady," herself its heroine. I give it as an illustration of the easy confidence with which Poe, even in his youth, sought the acquaintance of women who attracted his attention:
"The old lady commenced by saying that she had known Poe quite intimately when she and her mother were residents of Baltimore, about 1832. She was then seventeen years of age and attending a finishing school in that city. She confided to me, laughingly, that she was considered a very pretty girl, with dark eyes and curling auburn hair.
"The first time she noticed Poe, she said, was once when she was studying her lesson at the window of her room, which was in the rear of the house. Looking up, she saw a very handsome young man standing at an opposite back window on the next street looking directly at her. She pretended to take no notice, but on the following evening the same thing occurred. He appeared to be writing at his window, and each time that he laid aside a sheet he would look over at her, and atlength bowed. This time a school friend was with her, who, in a spirit of fun, returned the bow. That evening, as the two were seated on the veranda together, this young man sauntered past and, deliberately ascending the steps of the adjoining house, spoke to them, addressing them by name. He sat for some time on the dividing rail of the two verandas, making himself very agreeable, and the acquaintance thus commenced in a mere spirit of school-girl fun, was kept up for several weeks, some story being invented to satisfy the mother.
"'Of course, it was all wrong,' said the old lady, 'but it was fun, nevertheless; and we girls could see no harm in it. But one evening, when Mr. Poe and myself had been strolling up and down in the moonlight until quite late, my mother desired him not to come again, as I was only a school girl and the neighbors would talk. So our acquaintance ended abruptly.' She added that, although they never again met, she always felt the deepest interest in hearing of him, and had never forgotten her fascinating boy-lover.
"Asked if she had ever seen Virginia, she replied: 'Yes, several times, when she was with her cousin;' that 'she was a pretty child,but her chalky-white complexion spoiled her.'"
Mr. Allan died in March, 1834, leaving three fine little boys to inherit his fortune.
Some time before his death an absurd story was circulated, which we find related in the RichmondStandard, of April, 1881, thirty-one years after Poe's death, on the authority of Mr. T. H. Ellis, of Richmond. It appears that a friend of Poe wrote to the latter that Mr. Allan had spoken kindly of him, seeming to regret his harshness, and advising him to come on to Richmond and call on him in his illness. Acting upon this advice, he, one evening in February, presented himself at Mr. Allan's door. The rest, as told by Ellis, is as follows:
"He was met at the door by Mrs. Allan, who, not recognizing him, said that her husband had been forbidden by his physician to see visitors. Thrusting her rudely aside, he rapidly made his way upstairs and into the chamber where Mr. Allan sat in an arm-chair, who, on seeing him, raised his cane, threatening to strike him if he approached nearer, and ordered him to leave the house, which he did."
Woodbury asserts the truth of this story, because, as he says, "Mr. Ellis had the very best means of knowing the truth." But Elliswas at this time only a youth of 18 or 20, and had no more opportunity of knowing the truth than the numerous acquaintances of the Allans' to whom they related their version of the incident, with never a mention of the cane. Poe, they said, accused the servant of having delivered his message to Mrs. Allan and, creating some disturbance, the latter called to the servant to "drive that drunken man away." Mr. Ellis should have remembered that Mrs. Allan, to the day of her death, asserted that she had never but once seen Poe; consequently, this story of the second meeting between them and of Poe's "rudely thrusting her aside," and being threatened with the cane, is simply a specimen of the gossip which was continually being circulated concerning Poe by his enemies.
How it was that Poe, when a mature man of twenty-seven, came to marry his little cousin of twelve or thirteen has ever appeared something of a mystery.
As understood by his Richmond friends, it appeared that when, in July of 1835, he left Baltimore to assume the duties of assistant editor to Mr. White of theSouthern Literary Messenger, Virginia, deprived of her constant companion, so missed him and grieved over his absence that her mother became alarmed for her health, and wrote to Poe concerning it; and that in May of the following year the two came to Richmond, where Poe and Virginia were married, she being at that time not fourteen years of age. For this marriage Mrs. Clemm was severely criticised, the universal belief being that she had "made the match."
Of any other marriage than this these friends never heard; since it was only from aletter found among Poe's papers after his death, and the reluctant admission of Mrs. Clemm, that it became known that a previous marriage had taken place.
The marriage records of Baltimore show that on September 22, 1835, Edgar A. Poe took out a license to marry Virginia E. Clemm. Mrs. Clemm, when interviewed by one of Poe's biographers, admitted that there had been such a marriage, and stated that the ceremony had been performed by Bishop John Johns in Old Christ Church; though of this there is no mention in the church records. Immediately after the ceremony, she said, Poe returned to Richmond and to his editorial duties on theMessenger. She vouchsafed no explanation, except that the two were engaged previous to Poe's departure for Richmond.
A possible explanation of the mystery may be that Mrs. Clemm, having set her heart upon keeping her nephew in the family, could think of no surer means than that of a match between himself and her daughter. When he left Baltimore for Richmond, in July, she doubtless had her fears; and then came reports of his notorious love affairs, one of which came near ending in an elopement and marriage. It was probably then that she wrote to him about Virginia's grieving for him; following up this letter with another saying that Neilson Poe had offered to take Virginia into his family and care for her until she should be eighteen years of age. This brought a prompt reply from Poe, begging that she would not consent to this plan and take "Sissy" away from him.
This last letter is dated August 29. What other correspondence followed we do not know; but two weeks later, on September 11, 1835, we find Poe writing to his friend, Mr. Kennedy, the following extraordinary letter, in which he clearly hints at suicide:
"I am wretched. I know not why. Console me—for you can. But let it be quickly, or it will be too late. Convince me that it is worth one's while to live.... Oh, pity me, for I feel that my words are incoherent.... Urge me to do what is right. Fail not, as you value your peace of mind hereafter.
"Edgar A. Poe."
This production, which, in whatever light it is viewed, cannot but be regarded as an evidence of pitiable weakness. Some writer has chosen to attribute Poe's anguish to the prospect of losing Virginia. But it does notat all appear that such is the case; for, even if Neilson Poe did make such an offer, Poe knew well enough that neither Mrs. Clemm nor her daughter would ever consent to accept it. The whole thing appears to have been simply a plan of Mrs. Clemm to bring matters to the satisfactory conclusion which she desired. She possessed over her nephew then and always the influence and authority of a strong and determined will over a very weak one; and we here see that in less than two months after Poe's leaving her house she had carried her point and married him to her daughter. Having thus secured him, she was content to wait a more propitious time for making the marriage public.
There is yet a little episode which may have influenced this affair and may serve further to explain it.
When Poe first went to Richmond, Mr. White, as a safeguard from the temptation to evil habits, received him as an inmate of his own home, where he immediately fell in love with the editor's youngest daughter, "little Eliza," a lovely girl of eighteen. It was said that the father, who idolized his daughter, and was also very fond of Poe, did not forbid the match, but made his consent conditional uponthe young man's remaining perfectly sober for a certain length of time. All was going well, and the couple were looked upon as engaged, when Mrs. Clemm, who kept a watchful eye upon her nephew, may have received information of the affair, and we have seen the result.
Does this throw any light upon Poe's pitiful appeal, "Urge me to do what is right"? Was this why the marriage was kept secret—to give time for a proper breaking off of the match with Elizabeth White? And it is certain, from all accounts, that Poe now, at once, plunged into the dissipation which was, according to general report, the occasion of Mr. White's prohibition of his attentions to his daughter. It was she to whom the lines, "To Eliza," now included in Poe's poems, were addressed.
When I was a girl I more than once heard of Eliza White and her love affair with Edgar Poe. "She was the sweetest girl that I ever knew," said a lady who had been her schoolmate; "a slender, graceful blonde, with deep blue eyes, who reminded you of the Watteau Shepherdesses upon fans. She was a great student, and very bright and intelligent. She was said to be engaged to Poe, but they never appeared anywhere together. It was soonbroken off on account of his dissipation. I don't think she ever got over it. She had many admirers, but is still unmarried."
Recently I read an article written by Mrs. Holmes Cumming, of Louisville, Kentucky, in which she spoke of persons and places that she had seen in Richmond associated with Poe. Among others, she met with a niece of Eliza White, who, when a child, had often seen Poe at the latter's home. She remembered having at a party seen him dancing with Eliza, and how every one remarked what a handsome couple they were. She had never seen any one enjoy dancing more than Poe did; not but that he was very dignified, but you could see in his whole manner and expression how he enjoyed it." Perhaps it was because he had "little Eliza" for a partner.
Previous to Poe's first marriage, he had boarded with a Mrs. Poore on Bank street, facing the Capitol square, and with whose son-in-law, Mr. Thomas W. Cleland, he held friendly relations. A few weeks after his first marriage (which was still kept secret) he removed to the establishment of a Mrs. Yarrington, in the same neighborhood, where, being joined by Mrs. Clemm and Virginia, they lived together as formerly, he—as he informedMr. George Poe—paying out of his slender salary nine dollars a week for their joint board. This continued until May of the next year, when the public marriage of Poe and Virginia took place.
On this occasion Mr. Thomas Cleland was obliging enough to consent to act as Poe's surety, and he also secured the services of his own pastor, the Rev. Amasa Converse, a noted Presbyterian minister. Late on the evening of May 16, Mr. Cleland, with Mrs. Clemm, Poe and Virginia, left Mrs. Yarrington's and, walking quietly up Main street to the corner of Seventh, were married in Mr. Converse's own parlor and in the presence of his family, Mrs. Clemm giving her full and free consent. The clergyman remarked afterward that Mrs. Clemm struck him as being "polished, dignified, and agreeable in her bearing," while the bride "looked very young." The party then returned to their boarding-house, where Mrs. Clemm invited the lady boarders to her room to partake of wine and cake, when it was discovered that it was a wedding celebration.5
It will be observed that, according to the marriage bond, Virginia was married underher maiden name of Clemm, thus ignoring the former ceremony; and that Poe subscribed to the oath of Thomas Cleland that she was "of the full age of twenty-one years," when in reality she was but thirteen, having been born August 16, 1822. Thus is shown how pliable was Poe in the hands of his mother-in-law; and as regards Mr. Cleland, who was a very pious Presbyterian, it can only be hoped that he never discovered in what manner he had been imposed upon.
When Poe went to Richmond as assistant editor to Mr. White, it had been with the expectation of resuming his old place among his former friends and associates—a prospect which, as he himself stated in a letter to that gentleman, had afforded him very great pleasure. He had no idea of the altered estimate in which he was held by some of these, and of the general prejudice existing against him in consequence of the exaggerated reports concerning his rupture with the Allans and the later story of his attempt to force himself into Mr. Allan's presence. It is true that the Mackenzies, the Sullys, Dr. Robert G. Cabell and his wife, with some others of the best people, remained his firm friends; but he found himself without social standing and with but few associates among his former acquaintances. It was even said that when a leading society lady, enjoying a literary reputation—the mother ofMrs. Julia Mayo Cabell and Mrs. General Winfield Scott—gave an entertainment to which she invited the talented young editor of theMessenger, two of the most priggish of these gentlemen declined to attend rather than meet their former schoolmate, Edgar Poe.
This state of things must undoubtedly have served to irritate and embitter one of Poe's proud and sensitive nature, and may have partly led to the dissipated habits in which he now for the first time began to indulge—besides, in some measure, influencing the extreme bitterness and severity, or, as it has been called,venomof the criticism for which theMessengerbegan to be noted. Never before had he been accused of unamiability of disposition, but his temper seems suddenly to have changed, and he was called "haughty, overbearing and quarrelsome."
A great and, it is to be feared, irreparable obloquy has attached to Poe's name through the utterance of a single individual—a Mr. Ferguson, who was employed as a printer's assistant in the office of theMessengerat the time of Poe's editorship of that magazine. Not many years ago, Mr. Ferguson, who is still living, said, in answer to some inquiry concerning the poet: "There never was a moreperfect gentleman than Mr. Poe when he was sober," but that at other times "he would just as soon lie down in the gutter as anywhere else." And this assertion has been taken up by one and another writer until it appears now to be received as a fixed fact.
I have often heard this statement indignantly denied by persons who knew Poe at this time. Howsoever much under the influence of drink he might be, he was, they say, never at any time or by any person seen staggering through the streets or lying in a gutter. On the contrary, he was extremely sensitive about being seen by his friends, and especially ladies, under the influence of drink.
Poe himself, long after this time, while denying the charge of general dissipation, confessed that while in Richmond he at long intervals yielded to temptation, and after each excess was invariably for some days confined to his bed. And now, in addition to other charges against him, was that of neglecting his wife and being frequently seen in attendance on other women; a point on which his motherly friend, Mrs. Mackenzie, more than once felt herself called upon to remonstrate with him. He would be, for a week at a time, away from his home, putting up at varioushotels and boarding-houses, and spending his money freely, instead of, as formerly, committing it to the keeping of his mother-in-law. Mrs. Clemm, descending from the dignity of a boarder, tried to open a boarding-house of her own, but failed; and she now rented a cheap tenement on Seventh street and went back to her dressmaking, letting out rooms, and probably taking one or two boarders. But it was seldom that her son-in-law was to be found here; though always, after one of his excesses, he would seek its seclusion until fit to again appear in public.
Mr. Hewitt, who was about this time in Richmond, says that he heard a great deal of gossip about Poe's love affairs; and describes him as, at this time, of remarkable personal beauty—"graceful, and with dark, curling hair and magnificent eyes, wearing a Byron collar and looking every inch a poet." An old gentleman, a distinguished lawyer, once undertook his defence, saying: "Poe is one of the kind whom men envy and calumniate and women adore. How many could resist the temptation?"
The Mackenzies spoke of Virginia at this time—now fourteen years of age—as being small for her age, but veryplump; pretty, butnot especially so, with sweet and gentle manners and the simplicity of a child. Rose Poe, now twenty-six years of age, would sometimes take her young sister-in-law to spend an afternoon at the Mackenzies, where she appeared as much of a child as any of the pupils, joining in their sports of swinging and skipping rope. On one occasion her husband—"Buddy"—came unexpectedly to bring her home, when she scandalized Miss Jane Mackenzie by rushing into the street and greeting him with theabandonof a child.
Nearly twenty years after this time there were persons living on Main street who remembered having almost daily seen about the Old Market, in business hours, a tall, dignified looking woman, with a market basket on one arm, while on the other hung a little girl with a round, ever-smiling face, who was addressed as "Mrs. Poe"! She, too, carried a basket.
Whatsoever was the cause of Poe's discontent, he never appeared happy or satisfied while in Richmond. His dissipated habits grew upon him, with a consequent neglect of editorial duties, which sorely tried the patience of his good and kind friend, Mr. White, to whom, it must be admitted, Poe never appeared sufficiently grateful. Whether Mr.White was compelled at length to reluctantly discharge him, or whether, as Mr. Kennedy says, Poe himself gave up his place as editor of theMessenger, thinking that with his now established literary reputation he could do better in the North, is not clear; but in the summer of 1838 he left Richmond and, with his family, removed to New York.
Mrs. Clemm, at least, could not have been averse to the move; for it seems certain that there was a general prejudice against her on account of her having made or consented to the match between her little daughter and a man of Poe's age and dissipated habits.
Of Poe's business and literary affairs in New York, and subsequently in Philadelphia, his biographers have fully informed us, but with little or no mention of his home life or his family. All that we can gather concerning the latter is that never at any time were their circumstances such as would enable them to dispense with the utmost economy of living, and that, as regarded the practical everyday business affairs of life, Poe was almost as helpless and dependent upon his mother-in-law as was his child-wife. But for this devoted mother, what could they have done?—those two, whom she rightly called her "children."
Poe was sadly disappointed in his hopes of obtaining literary employment in New York, and but for Mrs. Clemm's opening a boarding-house on Carmine street, an obscure locality, the family might have starved. Here, however, he seems to have turned over a new leaf,for one of the boarders, a Mr. Gowans, a book-seller on the next street, declares that in the eight months of his residence at Mrs. Clemm's, and a daily intercourse with Poe, he never saw him otherwise than "sober, courteous, and a perfect gentleman." Being a stranger in New York, he was removed from the temptations which had assailed him in Richmond, and this fact should be noted as a proof that, when left to himself, he showed no inclination to indulge in dissipation. Of Virginia, Poe's wife, then fifteen years of age, this gallant old bachelor says, in the exaggerated style of flattery common in those days: "Her eyes outshone those of any houri, and her features would defy the genius of a Canova to imitate. Poe delighted in her round, childlike face and plump little figure."
As regards the nature of Poe's affection for his wife, I have often recalled an expression of Mr. John Mackenzie when, after the poet's death, a group of his friends were familiarly discussing his character. One doubted whether Poe had ever really loved his wife; to which Mr. Mackenzie replied: "I believe that Edgar loved his wife, but not that he was ever in love with her—which accounts for his constancy."
I have heard other men say that it was impossible that Poe, at the age of twenty-seven, could have felt for the child of twelve, with whom he had played and romped in the familiar association of home life and the free intercourse of brother and sister, aught of the absorbing and idealizing passion of love. At most, said they, there could have been but the tender and protective affection of an elder brother or cousin; which, as Mr. Mackenzieremarked, was in one of Poe's temperament the best guarantee for its continuance.
Apart from the disparity of age, there was no congeniality of mind or character to draw these two into sympathy. Virginia was not mentally gifted, and Poe once, after her death, remarked to Mrs. Mackenzie that she had never read half of his poems. When writing, he would go to Mrs. Clemm to explain his ideas or to ask her opinion, but never to Virginia. She was his pet, his plaything, his little "Sissy," whose sunny temper and affectionate disposition brightened and cheered his home.
"She was always a child," said a lady who knew her well. "Even in person smaller and younger looking than her real age, she retained to the last the shy sweetness and simplicity of childhood."
It would certainly appear that Poe's child-wife never attained to the full completeness of the nature and affections of a mature woman. She was never known to manifest jealousy of the women whom he so notoriously admired; neither did scandals disturb nor his neglect estrange her. Mrs. Clemm would sometimes, as in duty bound, take him to task for his irregularities, but no word of reproach ever escaped Virginia. She regarded him withthe most implicit and childlike trust; and certainly it seems that Poe, of all men, knew how, by endearing epithets and eloquent protestations, to win a woman's confidence—as will presently appear.
But, naturally, this was not the kind of affection to satisfy one of Poe's impassioned and poetic nature. He craved a woman's love, and the sympathetic appreciation of talented women, in whose companionship, as Mrs. Whitman assures us, he delighted. What he did not find in Virginia he sought elsewhere. In special he missed in her that understanding and appreciation of his genius which he found in some other women. She loved and admired her handsome and fascinating husband, but never appeared to take pride in his genius or his fame as a poet.
The accounts of Virginia's beauty, say those who knew her personally, have been greatly exaggerated by Poe's biographers, who, taking their impressions from the description of Mr. Gowans already mentioned, have painted the poet's child-wife in the most glowing colors. The general idea of her is like that which Mr. Woodbury expresses: "A sylph-like creature, of such delicate and ethereal beauty thatwe almost expect to see it vanish away, like one of Poe's own creations."
But the real Virginia was neither delicate nor ethereal. She is described by those who knew her at the age of twenty-two as looking more like a girl of fifteen than a woman grown, with, notwithstanding her frail health, a round, full face and figure, full, pouting lips, a forehead too high and broad for beauty, and bright black eyes and raven-black hair, contrasting almost startlingly with a white and colorless complexion. Her manner and expression were soft and shy, with something childlike and appealing. "She was liked by every one," says Mr. Graham. A decidedlispadded to her child-likeness.
Poe, disappointed in his hopes of success in New York, left that city and, in the summer of 1839, removed to Philadelphia, then the literary center of the United States.
Of his business experiences while here—his successes and disappointments—his quarrels with certain editors and literary men and his friendly relations with others, his biographers have informed us. But it is in his home and private life that we are interested.
Their financial circumstances at this time must have been deplorable, for they had to borrow money to enable them to remove to Philadelphia. Under the circumstances, to take board was impracticable; and it appears from the reminiscences of certain neighbors, that they for some time occupied very poor lodgings in an obscure street in the vicinity of a market. But Poe was much more successful here than in New York, and we find them inthe following spring established in a home of their own in a locality known asSpring Garden, a quiet suburb far from the dust and noise of the city.
Some one has recently taken pains to hunt out with infinite patience and perseverance this house, which the Poes occupied for nearly five years. It was an ordinary framed Dutch-roofed building, with but three rooms on the ground floor, and under the eaves little horizontal strips of windows on a level with the floor, which could scarcely have admitted light and air. But there was, when they took possession, a bit of grassy side yard which had once been part of a garden, and a porch over which grew a straggling rose-bush. This latter Mrs. Clemm's skillful hands carefully pruned and trained, thus winning for the humble abode the title still applied to it of "The poet's rose-embowered cottage," to which some enthusiast has added, "Where Poe and his idolized Virginia dreamed their divine dream of love."
To a lady who was at this time a resident of Spring Garden we are indebted for a glimpse of the Poes in this their quiet and half-rural abode.
"Twice a day, on my way to and fromschool," she said, "I had to pass their house, and in summer time often saw them. In the mornings Mrs. Clemm and her daughter would be generally watering the flowers, which they had in a bed under the windows. They seemed always cheerful and happy, and I could hear Mrs. Poe's laugh before I turned the corner. Mrs. Clemm was always busy. I have seen her of mornings clearing the front yard, washing the windows and the stoop, and even white-washing the palings. You would notice how clean and orderly everything looked. She rented out her front room to lodgers, and used the middle room, next to the kitchen, for their own living room or parlor. They must have slept under the roof. We never heard that they were poor, and they kept pretty much to themselves in the two years we lived near them. I don't think that in that time I saw Mr. Poe half a dozen times. We heard he was dissipated, but he always appeared like a gentleman, though thin and sickly looking. His wife was the picture of health. It was after we moved away that she became an invalid."
Mrs. Clemm, she added, was a dress and cloak maker; and she thinks that Mrs. Poe assisted her, as she would sometimes see the latter seated on the stoop engaged in sewing. "She was pretty, but not noticeably so. She was too fleshy."
This account refers to a time when Poe was assistant editor ofThe Gentleman's Magazine, and the family were enjoying a degree of peace and prosperity such as they never subsequently knew.
Poe lost this position, according to Mr. Burton, the editor-in-chief, by indulgence in dissipated habits. In replying to this charge, he wrote to a friend, Mr. Snodgrass, that "on the honor of a gentleman" he had not, since leaving Richmond, tasted anything stronger than cider, and that upon one occasion only. In this he was borne out by the testimony of Mrs. Clemm, who asserted, "I know that for years he never tasted even a glass of wine." Mr. Burton, in making the charge, adds: "I believe that for eighteen months previous to this time he had not drank." Still, the severity and, one might say, almost cruelty of his personal criticisms continued, and nothing could exceed the bitterness of his vituperation against those by whom, as he conceived, he had been wronged or unjustly treated. Mr. Burton, in replying, in a forbearing and even kindly manner, to a very abusive letter fromhim, advised him to "lay aside his ill-feeling against his fellow-writers, and to cultivate a more tolerant and kindly spirit." He even proposed that Poe should resume his place upon the magazine, but this he proudly declined, and continued to contribute his brilliant stories to other periodicals. These attracted the attention of Mr. Graham, who had just established the magazine which bore his name, and who offered him the editorship, which Poe accepted, and gave to it his best work. Under his management it prospered wonderfully, and soon became the leading periodical of the country.
Still, with a good salary and a brilliant literary reputation, Poe was dissatisfied. The old restlessness and discontent returned. What he desired was a magazine of his own, for which he might be at liberty to write according to his own will. His independent and ambitious spirit revolted at being limited to certain bounds and controlled by what he considered the narrow views of editors. We find him as early as June 26, 1841, writing to Mr. Snodgrass: "Notwithstanding Graham's unceasing civility and real kindness, I am more and more disgusted with my situation." It ended at length in his resigning the editorship ofGraham'sand devoting himself to writing for other publications, a step which was the beginning of a long period of financial and other troubles.
From Col. Du Solle, editor of "Noah's New York Sunday Times," who as a resident of Philadelphia about that time knew Poe well, I gained some information concerning him. His dissipation, the Colonel said, was too notorious to be denied; and that for days, and even weeks at a time, he would be sharing the bachelor life and quarters of his associates, who were not aware that he was a married man. He would, on some evenings when sober, come to the rooms occupied by himself and some other writers for the press and, producing the manuscript ofThe Raven, read to them the last additions to it, asking their opinion and suggestions. He seemed to be having difficulty with it, said Col. Du Solle, and to be very doubtful as to its merits as a poem. The general opinion of these critics was against it.
The irregular habits of this summer resulted in the fall (1839) in a severe illness, the first of the peculiar attacks to which Poe during the rest of his life was at intervals subject. On recovering, he devoted himself to the realization of a plan for establishing a magazine of his own, to be called "The Penn Magazine," and wrote to Mr. Snodgrass that his "prospects were glorious," and that he intended to give it the reputation of using no article except from the best writers, and that in criticism it was to be sternly, absolutely just with both friends and foe, independent of the medium of a publisher's will." In these last words we read the whole secret of his past dissatisfaction and of his future aspiration as an editor.
ThePenn Magazinewas advertised to appear on January 1, 1841, but this scheme was balked by a financial depression which at that time occurred throughout the country.
But who will not sympathize with Poe and admit that, considering the disappointments to which he was continually subject, and the constant humiliation and drawback of the poverty which met him on every hand, balking each movement and design—together with the ill-health from which he was now destined to be a constant sufferer—his faults and failures should not be treated with every possible allowance? If he were naturally weak, and lacking in the strength and firmness of will to determinately resist obstacles and discouragements, we see in it the effect of the heredity, apparent in his sister; and consequently so much greater is his claim to be leniently judged.
In all this time of which we have spoken, embracing a period of several years, Mrs. Clemm and her daughter continued their quiet life at the cottage, the former doing what she could toward the support and comfort of the family. But a great affliction was to befall them, in the dangerous illness of Virginia, now in her twenty-first year, who had the misfortune, while singing, to break a small blood-vessel. She had already developed signs of consumption, and from this time forth remained more or less an invalid, subject to occasional hemorrhages, but, from all accounts, losing none of her characteristic cheerfulness and light-heartedness.
Poe was at this time still engaged in the editorshipof Graham's Magazine, and it is now that we begin to hear of him in the character of "a devoted husband, watching beside the sick bed of an idolized wife," with which theworld is familiar. Certainly the condition of the helpless creature who so clung to him, and the real danger which threatened her, was calculated to awaken all the tenderness of his nature.
"She could not bear the slightest exposure," wrote Mr. Harris inHearth and Home, "all needed the utmost care and all those conveniences as to apartment and surroundings which are so important in the case of an invalid. And yet the room where she lay for weeks, hardly able to breathe except as she was fanned, was a little place with the ceiling so low over the narrow bed that her head almost touched it."
Mr. Graham tells how he saw Poe "hovering around his wife's couch with fond fear and tender anxiety,shuddering visiblyat her slightest cough;" and mentions his driving out with them one summer day, and of the husband's "watchful eyes eagerly bent on the slightest change in that beloved face."
Another literary friend of Poe's who visited the family in this time of trial, Mr. Clarke, tells of his once taking his little daughter with him, knowing Virginia to be fond of the companionship of children; and as a proof of the latter's light-heartedness relates how the little girl was induced to sing a comic song, whichVirginia received with "peal after peal of merry laughter."
The reminiscences of these kindly gentlemen who, at Poe's own request, called upon him, regarding the poet and his family, are of the most flattering character. Poe in his own home was the perfection of graceful courtesy, and Mrs. Clemm amiably dignified, with a countenance when speaking of "her children" almost "saint-like in its expression of patience and motherly devotion." Of Virginia, Mr. Harris says, "She looked hardly more than fourteen, was soft, fair and girlish." He says, furthermore, that Mrs. Poe, whom he had not known previous to her misfortune, had up to that time "possessed a voice of marvelous sweetness and a harp and piano," which leads an English writer to represent the poet's wife as "an accomplished musician, with the voice of a St. Cecilia." This is a specimen of the exaggeration to which "biographers" sometimes lend themselves, to be taken up by those who follow and received by the public as fact.
Poe now again interested himself in getting up a magazine, to which he gave the name of "The Stylus" and there seemed an even more brilliant prospect than before of its success. He wrote a prospectus, and went to Washington to obtain subscriptions from President Tyler and the Cabinet, but was taken ill, the result, it was said, of his meeting with a convivial acquaintance; and Mrs. Clemm being notified thereof, on his return to Philadelphia met him at the railroad station and took him home in safety from further possible temptation. Owing partly to this indiscretion,The Styluswas again a failure; and the matter being known throughout the city, did not add to Poe's personal reputation.
Now, also, just as for the first time, Poe began to be mentioned in the character of a devoted husband, there arose a widespread scandal concerning a handsome and wealthy lady whom, it was said, he accompanied to Saratoga, and who was paying his expenses there. But while the story appears to have been so far true, it certainly admits of a different construction from that given by the gossips. Poe was at this time in wretched health, hardly able to attend to his literary work, and in consequence the financial condition of himself and family was deplorable. What more probable than that some kind friend of his, seeing the absolute necessity to him of a change, should have invited him to be her guest at the quiet summer resort near Saratoga to which she wasgoing? It was a more delicate and, for him, a safer way than to have supplied him with money on his own account. The lady, it was said, had her own little turn-out, in which they daily drove into Saratoga; and this exercise, with the mineral waters, the nourishing food and other advantages of the place, doubtless secured to him the benefits which his friend desired.
It is impossible to believe that Poe could so have defied public opinion as to have voluntarily given cause for a scandal of this nature, for which the gossip of a public watering place should alone be held responsible.
Poe now again applied himself to his writing, but, for some reason, with but little success. In desperation he hastily finished the manuscript ofThe Ravenand offered it to Graham, who, not satisfied as to its merits as a poem, declined it, but expressed a willingness to abide by the decision of a number of the office employees, clerks and others, who, being called in, sat solemnly attentive and critical while Poe read to them the poem. Their decision was against it, but on learning of the poet's penniless condition and that, as he confessed, he had not money to buy medicine for his sick wife, they made up a subscription offifteen dollars, which was given, not to Poe himself, but to Mrs. Clemm, "for the use of the sick lady."
This account, given in a New York paper by one of the office committee many years after the poet's death, has been denied by a Mr. William Johnston, who was at that time an office-boy in Graham's employ. He says that he was present at the reading of the poem, and that no subscription was taken up. This may have been done subsequently, without his knowledge. Of Poe, he spoke in the most enthusiastic terms of admiration and affection, as the kindest and most courteous gentleman that he had ever met with; prompt and industrious at his work, and having always a pleasant word and smile for himself. He never, in the course of Poe's engagement with Graham, saw him otherwise than perfectly sober.
Poe, discouraged, and with the old restlessness upon him, suddenly resolved to leave Philadelphia. On the 6th of April, 1844, he started with Virginia for New York, leaving Mrs. Clemm to settle their affairs in general.
Most fortunately for Poe's memory, there remains to us a letter written by him to Mrs. Clemm, in which he gives her an account of their journey. It is of so private and confidential a nature, and speaks so frankly and freely of such small domestic matters as most persons do not care to have exposed to strangers, that in reading it one feels almost as if violating the sacredness of domestic privacy. But I here refer to it as showing Poe's domestic character in a most attractive light:
"New York, Sunday morning, April 7,just after breakfast.
"My Dear Muddie: We have just this moment done breakfast, and I now sit down towrite you about everything.... In the first place, we arrived safe at Walnut street wharf. The driver wanted me to pay him a dollar, but I wouldn't. Then I had to pay a boy a levy to put the trunks in the baggage car. In the meantime I took Sis into the Depot Hotel. It was only a quarter-past six, and we had to wait until seven.... We started in good spirits, but did not get here until nearly three o'clock. Sissy coughed none at all. When we got to the wharf it was raining hard. I left her on board the boat, after putting the trunks in the ladies' cabin, and set off to buy an umbrella and look for a boarding-house. I met a man selling umbrellas, and bought one for twenty-five cents. Then I went up Greenwich street and soon found a boarding-house.... It has brown-stone steps and a porch with brown pillars. "Morrison" is the name on the door. I made a bargain in a few minutes and then got a hack and went for Sis. I was not gone more than half an hour, and she was quite astonished to see me back so soon. She didn't expect me for an hour. There were two other ladies on board, so she wasn't very lonely. When we got to the house we had to wait about half an hour till the room was ready. The cheapest boardthat I ever knew, taking into consideration the central situation and theliving. I wish Kate (Virginia's pet cat, 'Catalina') could see it. She would faint. Last night for supper we had the nicest tea you ever drank, strong and hot; wheat bread and rye bread, cheese, tea-cakes (elegant), a good dish (two dishes) of elegant ham and two of cold veal, piled up like a mountain and large slices; three dishes of the cakes, and everything in the greatest profusion. No fear of our starving here. The land-lady seemed as if she could not press us enough, and we were at home directly. Her husband is living with her, a fat, good-natured old soul. There are eight or ten boarders, two or three of them ladies—two servants. For breakfast we had excellent flavored coffee, hot and strong, not too clear and no great deal of cream; veal cutlets, elegant ham-and-eggs and nice bread and butter. I never sat down to a more plentiful or a nicer breakfast. I wish you could have seen the eggs, and the great dishes of meat. I ate the first hearty breakfast I have eaten since we left our little home. Sis is delighted, and we are both in excellent spirits. She has coughed hardly any and had no night-sweat. She is now mending my pants, which I tore against a nail. I went out last nightand bought a skein of silk, a skein of thread, two buttons and a tin pan for the stove. The fire kept in all night. We have now got four dollars and a half left. To-morrow I am going to try and borrow three dollars, so that I may have a fortnight to go upon. I feel in excellent spirits and have not drank a drop, so that I hope soon to get out of trouble. The very instant that I scrape together enough money I will send it on. You can't imagine how much we both miss you. Sissy had a hearty cry last night because you and Catalina weren't here. We are resolved to get two rooms the first moment we can. In the meantime it is impossible that we can be more comfortable or more at home than we are. Be sure to go to the P. O. and have my letters forwarded. It looks as if it were going to clear up now. As soon as I can write the article for Lowell, I will send it to you and get you to get the money from Graham. Give our best love to Catalina."
(Signature cut out here.)
In this letter, written as simply and as unreservedly as that of a child to its mother, we see Poe himself—Poe in his real nature. Not the poet, with his studied affectation of gloom and sadness; not the critic, severe in his judgment of all that did not agree with his standard of literary excellence, and not even the society man, wearing the mask of cold and proud reserve—but Poe himself; Poe the man, shut in from the eyes of the world in the privacy of his home life and the companionship of his own family. Who could recognize in this gentle, kindly and tender man, with his playful mood and his affectionate consideration for those whom he loved—even forCatalina—the "morbid and enigmatical" being that the world chooses to imagine him—the gloomy wanderer amid "the ghoul-haunted regions of Weir," the despairing soul forever brooding over the memory of his lost Lenore? And how readily he yields himself to the enjoyment of the moment; how cheerful he is in a situation which would depress any other man—a stranger in a strange city, just making a new start in life, with "four dollars and a half" to begin with! Surely there is something most pathetic in all this as we see it from Poe's own unconscious pen; with the purchase of the twenty-five-cent umbrella to shield "Sissy" from the rain, the two buttons and the skein of thread, and, ever mindful of Sissy's comfort, the tin pan for the stove. The picture is invaluable as enabling us to understand the true characters of Poeand his wife and the peculiar relations existing between them—Virginia, trustful, loving and happy, and Poe, all kindness and protective tenderness for his little "Sissy." We look upon it as a life-like photograph, clear and distinct in every line; Poe with the traces of care and anxiety for the time swept away from his face, and Virginia—as she is described at this time—a woman grown, but "looking not more than fourteen," plump and smiling, with her bright, black eyes and full pouting lips. It is Poe himself who reveals her character as no other has done, when he says that, though "delighted" with her new experience and situation, she yet "had a hearty cry," childlike, missing her mother and her cat.
It would have been well for them could they have remained at this model "cheap" boarding-house, where they were so well provided for. But it was beyond their means, with board for three persons; and so they look about for "two rooms," and when ready send for Mrs. Clemm and Catalina. Two rooms for the three; in one of which Mrs. Clemm must perform all her domestic operations of cooking and laundering, for, as we afterwards learn, Poe was indebted to his mother-in-law for that "immaculate linen" in which, howsoever shabby the outergarments, he invariably appeared. And despite the threadbare suit, he was always, it was said, as well groomed and scrupulously neat as the most fastidious gentleman could be.
That in New York Poe did not at first succeed according to his expectations is rendered evident by the fact that in the following October, he being ill, Mrs. Clemm applied to N. P. Willis for some employment for him, who gave him a place in his office as assistant editor. Willis says that Mrs. Clemm's countenance as she pleaded for her son-in-law was "beautiful and saintly by reason of an evident complete giving up of her life to privation and sorrowful tenderness" for those whom she loved. Of Poe, he says that he was "a quiet, patient, industrious and most gentlemanly person, commanding the utmost respect and good feeling of every one." He also says, in speaking of a lecture which he delivered about this time before theNew York Lyceum, and which was attended by several hundred persons: "He becomes a desk; his beautiful head showing like a statuary embodiment of Discrimination—his accent like a knife through water."
It was now—in January, 1845—thatThe Ravenwas published in theEvening Mirror,taking the world by storm. Probably no one was more surprised at its immediate success than was Poe himself, who, as he afterwards stated to a friend, had never had much opinion of the poem. He now found himself elevated to the highest rank of American literary fame, and with this his worldly fortune should also have risen, yet we find him going on in the same rut as before, writing but little for the magazine and for that little being poorly paid—too poorly to enable the family to live in any degree of comfort. From one cheap lodging to another they removed, with such frequency as to suggest to us the suspicion that their rent was not always ready when due.
But after some time the old discontent returned upon Poe. Willis and theMirrorwere too narrow for him; and he sought and was fortunate enough to obtain a place on theBroadway Journal, at that time the leading journal of the day, and of which he was soon appointed assistant editor.
With a good salary, the family were now enabled to live in more comfort. They rented a front and back room on the third story of an old house on East Broadway, which had once been the residence of a prosperous merchant, but had long ago been given over to the use ofpoor but respectable tenants. It was musty and mouldy, but here they were elevated somewhat above the noise and dust of the street, and had sunlight and a good view from the narrow windows.