Edgar Allan Poe: His Life, Letters, and Opinions — John H. Ingram, 1880, volume II — reading text

with you in the early spring or before — but we will let you know some time before. Mother sends her dearest, dearest love to you and Sarah and to all. And now good-bye, my dear ‘Annie.’ — Your own EDDY.” On the 19th of the same month the poet is found writing sadly, but proudly, to this esteemed correspondent, to repel some cruel accusations which had been made against him by certain mischief-makers: — FORDHAM. Feb. 19, Sunday. MY SWEET FRIEND AND SISTER — I fear that in this letter, which I write with a heavy heart, you will find much to disappoint and grieve you — for I must abandon my proposed visit, and God only knows when I shall see you, and clasp you by the hand. I have come to this determination to-day, after looking over some of your letters to me and my mother, written since I left you. You have not said it to me, but I have been enabled to glean from what you have said, that Mr. R—— has permitted himself (perhaps without knowing it) to be influenced against me by the malignant misrepresentations of Mr. and Mrs. —— . Now, I frankly own to you, dear ‘Annie,’ that I am proud, although I have never shown myself proud to you or yours, and never will. You know that I quarrelled with the L—— s solely on your account and Mr. R’s. It was obviously my interest to keep in with them, and, moreover, they had rendered me some services which entitled them to my gratitude up to the time when I discovered they had been blazoning their favors to the world. Gratitude, then, as well as interest, would have led me not to offend them; and the insults offered to me individually by Mrs. L—— were not sufficient to make me break with them. It was only when I heard them . . . (speak against) your husband . . . it was only when such insults were offered to you, whom I so sincerely and most purely loved, and to Mr. R——, Whom I had every reason to like and respect, that I arose and left their house and ensured the unrelenting vengeance of that worst of all fiends, ‘a woman scorned.’ Now feeling all this, I cannot help thinking it unkind in Mr. R——, when I am absent and unable to defend myself, that he will persist in listening to what these people say to my discredit. I cannot help thinking it, moreover, the most unaccountable instance of weakness — of obtuseness — that ever I knew a man to be guilty of women are more easily misled in such matters. In the name of God, what else bad I to anticipate in return for the offence which I offered Mrs. L—— s insane vanity and self-esteem, than that she would spend the rest of her days in ransacking the world for scandal against me (and the falser the better for her purpose), and in fabricating accusations where she could not find them ready made? I certainly anticipated no other line of conduct on her part; but, on the other hand, I certainly did not anticipate that any man in his senses would ever listen to accusations from so suspicions a source. . . . Not only must I not visit you at L——, but I must discontinue my letters and you yours. I cannot and will not have it on my conscience, that I have interfered with the domestic happiness of the only being in the whole world, whom I have loved at the same time with truth and with purity — I do not merely love you, ‘Annie’ — I admire and respect you even more — and Heaven knows there is no particle of selfishness in my devotion — I ask nothing for myself, but your own happiness — with a charitable interpretation of those calumnies which — for your sake, I am now enduring from this vile woman — and which, for your dear, dear sake, I would most willingly endure if multiplied a hundredfold. The calumnies, indeed, ‘Annie,’ do not materially wound me, except in depriving me of your society — for of your affection and respect I feel that they never can. As for any injuries the falsehoods of these people can do me, make your mind easy about that It is true that ‘Hell has no fury like a woman scorned,’ but I have encountered such vengeance before, on far higher grounds — that is to say, for a far less holy purpose, than I feel the defence of your good name to be. I scorned Mrs. E ——, simply because she revolted me, and to this day she has never ceased her anonymous persecutions. But in what have they resulted? She has not deprived me of one friend who ever knew me and once trusted me — nor has she lowered me one inch in the public opinion. When she ventured too far, I sued her at once (through her miserable tools), and recovered exemplary damages — as I will unquestionably do, forthwith, in the case of ——, if ever he shall muster courage to utter a single actionable word. It is true I shrink with a nameless horror from connecting my name in the public prints, with such unmentionable nobodies and blackguards as L—— and his lady — but they may provoke me a little too far — You will now have seen, dear Annie, how and why it is that my Mother and myself cannot visit you as we proposed. . . . I could not feel at ease in his (her husband’s} house, so long as he permits himself to be prejudiced against me, or so long as he associates with such persons as the L—— s. It had been my design to ask you and Mr. R—— (or, perhaps, your parents) to board my Mother while I was absent at the South, and I intended to start after remaining with you a week, but my whole plans are now disarranged — I have taken the cottage at Fordham for another year — Time, dear Annie, will show all things. Be of good heart, I shall never cease to think of you — and bear in mind the too solemn promises I have made you. The one I am now religiously keeping, and the other (so help me Heaven!) shall sooner or later be kept. — Always your dear friend and brother, EDGAR.” From the neat communication, unsigned but dated, it is Been that the traducers are still at work From it these passages may be cited: — “March 23, 1849. “Will not ‘Annie’ confide the secrets about Westford? Was it anything I did which caused you to ‘give up hope’? Dear Annie, I am so happy in being able to afford Mr. R. proof of something in which he seemed to doubt me. You remember that Mr. and Mrs. L—— strenuously denied having spoken ill of you to me, and I said ‘then it must remain a simple question of veracity between us, as I had no witness — ’ but I observed afterwards — ‘Unfortunately I have returned Mrs. L her letters (which were filled with abuse of you both), but, if I am not mistaken, my mother has some in her possession that will prove the truth of what I say.’ Now, Annie, when we came to look over these last, I found, to my extreme sorrow, that they would not corroborate me. I say ‘to my extreme sorrow;’ for, oh, it is so painful to be doubted when we know our own integrity. Not that I fancied, even for one moment, that you doubted me, but then I saw that Mr. R—— and Mr. C —— did, and perhaps even your brother. Well! what do you think I Mrs. L—— has again written my mother, and I enclose her letter. Read it! you will find it thoroughly corroborative of all I said. The verses to me which she alludes to, I have not seen. You will see that she admits having cautioned me against yon, as I said, and in fact admits all that I accused her of. Now you distinctly remember that they both loudly denied having spoken against you: — this, in fact, was the sole point at issue. I have marked the passages alluded to. I wish that you would write to your relation in Providence and ascertain for me who slandered me as you say-I wish to prove the falsity of what has been said (for I find that it will not do to permit such reports to go unpunished), and, especially, obtain for me some details upon which I can act. . . . Will you do this? . . . I enclose also some other lines,For Annie’ and will you let me know in what manner they impress you? I have sent them to the Flag of our Union. By the way, did you get ‘Hop-Frog’? I sent it to you by mail, not knowing whether you ever see the paper in ——. I am sorry to say that the Metropolitan has stopped and ‘Landor’s Cottage’ is returned on my hands unprinted. I think the lines ‘For Annie’* (those I now send) much the best I have ever written; but an author can seldom depend on his own estimate of his own works, so I wish to know what ‘Annie’ truly thinks of them — also your dear sister and Mr. C ——. “Do not let the verses go out of your possession until you see them in print — as I have sold them to the publisher of the Flag. . . . Remember me to all.” The tale of “Hop-Frog” above referred to was founded by Poe upon a terrible tragedy related by Froissart, as having occurred in the court of Charles the Sixth of France. The poet appears to have derived his knowledge of the incident from Lord Berner’s quaint old English version of the chronicler’s story, and in his rendering of the tale he has contrived to attract more sympathy for “Hop-Frog” — for the poor crippled dwarf, notwithstanding his awful revenge, who had no fondness for wine as it excited him “almost to madness” — than Poe’s ideal heroes generally obtain. As regards the lines “For Annie,” spoken of and enclosed in the foregoing communication, this letter to N. P. Willis will be of interest: — “FORDHAM, April 20, 1849. “MY DEAR WILLIS: — The poem which I enclose, and which I am so vain as to hope you will like, in some respects, has been just published in a paper for which sheer necessity compels me to write now and then. It pays well — as times go — but unquestionably it ought to pay ten prices; for whatever I send it I feel I am consigning to the tomb of the Capulets. The verses accompanying this, may I beg you to take out of the tomb, and bring them to light in the Home Journal? If you can oblige me so far as to copy them, I do not think it will be necessary to say ‘From the Flag,’ — that would be too bad: — and, perhaps, ‘From a late paper’ would do. “I have not forgotten how a ‘good word in season’ from you made ‘The Raven,’ and made ‘Ulalume,’ (which, by-the-way, people have done me the honor of attributing to you) — therefore I would ask you (if I dared), to say something of these lines — if they please you. Truly yours ever, EDGAR A. POE.” Those unacquainted with the intensely grateful nature of the poet towards all those whom he deemed himself indebted to, would be inclined to consider some portions of the above note intended for sarcasm Poe, however, doubtless did believe that Willis had assisted in making “The Raven” famous, although he could hardly have considered it an honour for himself that “Ulalume” had been fathered upon the author of “Hurrygraphs.” The letter following that last cited is undated and unsigned; it gives a vivid picture of the horrors the unfortunate Poe was exposed to in his attempt to live by the work of his pen, and of the melancholia by which he was so often oppressed: — “ANNIE, — You will see by this note that I am nearly, if not quite, well — so be no longer uneasy on my account. I was not so ill as my mother supposed, and she is so anxious about me that she takes alarm often without cause. It is not so much ill that I have been as depressed in spirits — I cannot express to you how terribly I have been suffering from gloom. . . . You know horn cheerfully I wrote to you not long ago — about my prospects — hopes — how I anticipated being soon out of difficulty. Well! all seems to be frustrated — at least for the present As usual, misfortunes never come single, and I have met one disappointment after another. The Columbian Magazine, in the first place, failed — then Post’s Union (taking with it my principal dependence); then the Whig Review was forced to stop paying for contributions — then the Democratic — then (on account of his oppression and insolence) I was obliged to quarrel, finally, with ——; and then, to crown all, the “—— ——” (from which I anticipated so much and with which I had made a regular engagement for $10 a week throughout the year) has written a circular to correspondents, pleading poverty and declining to receive any