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

more articles. More than this, the S. L. Messenger, which owes me a good deal, cannot pay just yet, and, altogether, I am reduced to Sartain and Graham — both very precarious. No doubt, Annie, you attribute my “gloom” to these events — but you would be wrong. It is not in the power of any mere worldly considerations, such as these, to depress me. . . . No, my sadness is unaccountable, and this makes me the more sad. I am full of dark forebodings. Nothing cheers or comforts me. My life seems wasted — the future looks a dreary blank: but I will struggle on and I hope against hope.’ . . . What do you think? I have received a letter from Mrs. L——, and such a letter! She says she is about to publish a detailed account of did that occurred between us, under guise of romance, with fictitious names, &c., — that she will make me appear noble, generous, &c. &c. — nothing bad — that she will I do justice to my motives,’ &c. &c. She writes to know if ‘I have any suggestions to make.’ If I do not answer it in a fortnight, the book will go to press as it is — and, more than all this — she is coming on immediately to see me at Fordham. I have not replied — shall I? and what? The ‘friend’ who sent the lines to the ‘H. J.’ was the friend who loves you best — was myself. The Flag so misprinted them that I was resolved to have a true copy. The Flag has two of my articles yet — ‘A Sonnet to my Mother,’ and ‘Landor’s Cottage.’ . . . I have written a ballad called ‘Annabel Lee,’ which I will send you soon. Why do you not send the tale of which you spoke?” Appended to the above epistle are these few pathetic lines from Mrs. Clemm: — “Thank you a thousand times for your letter, my dear ‘Annie.’ Do! not believe Eddy; he has been very ill, but is now better. I thought he would die several dunes. God knows I wish we were both in our graves — it would, I am sure, be far better.” An intervening communication to “Annie” has been lost, wherein the poet announced his intention of once more visiting the Southern States, in order to obtain aid for his projected magazine — the ignis fatuus of his life — both by lectures and by procuring subscribers’ names. The next letter, written on the 16th of June, shows Poe on the eve of departure, but — although not unhopefully worded — detained from day to day by some disappointing circumstances, probably of a pecuniary nature. “FORDHAM, —— June 16. “You asked me to write before I started for Richmond, and I was to have started last Monday (the 11th) — so, perhaps, you thought me gone, and without having written to say I good-bye’ — but indeed, Annie, I could not have done so. The truth is, I have been on the point of starting every day since I wrote — and so put off writing until the last moment — but I have been disappointed — and can no longer refrain from sending you, at least, a few lines to let you see why I have been so long silent. When I can go now is uncertain — but, perhaps, I may be off to-morrow, or next day: — all depends upon circumstances beyond my control. Most probably, I will not go until I hear from Thompson (of the S. L. Messenger), to whom I wrote five days ago — telling him to forward the letter from Oquawka, instead of retaining it until he sees me. The reason of the return of my draft on Graham’s Magazine (which put me to such annoyance and mortification while I was with you) was, that the articles I sent (by mail) did not come to hand. No insult (as I had half anticipated) was meant — and I am sincerely glad of this; for I did not wish to give up writing for Graham’s Magazine just yet — I enclose the publisher’s reply to my letter of enquiry. The Postmaster here is investigating the matter, and, in all probability, the articles will be found, and the draft paid by the time you get this. So all this will be right. . . . “You see I enclose you quite a budget of papers: the letter of Mrs. L—— to Muddy — Mrs. L —— ’s long MS. poem — the verses by the ‘Lynn Bard,’* which you said you wished to see, and also some lines to me (or rather about me), by Mrs. Osgood, in which she imagines me writing to her. I send, too, another notice of ‘Eureka,’ from Greeley’s Tribune. The letter of Mrs. L—— you can retain if you wish it. “Have you seen the ‘Moral for Authors,’ a new satire by J. E. Tuel? — who, in the name of Heaven, is J. E. Tuel! The book is miserably stupid. He has a long parody of the ‘Raven’ — in fact, nearly the whole thing seems to be aimed at me. If you have not seen it and wish to see it I will send it. . . . No news of Mrs. L —— yet. .If she comes here I shall refuse to see her. Remember me to your parents, Mr. R——, &c. —— And now Heaven for ever bless you — EDDIE. “I enclose, also, an autograph of the Mr. Willis you are so much in love with. Tell Bardwell I will send him what I promised very soon. . . . My mother sends you her dearest — most devoted love.” Some days later the poet indited the following interesting epistle to an old literary correspondent: — “NEW YORK, June 26, 49. “On the principle of ‘better late than never’ I avail myself of a few moments’ leisure to say a word or two in reply to your last letter — the one from Brunswick. “You have had time to form an opinion of ‘Eureka.’ Let me know, frankly, how it impresses you. It is accomplishing all that I prophesied — even more. “In respect to D ——. By a singular coincidence, he is the chief of the very sect of Hogites to whom I refer as the most intolerant and intolerable set of bigots and tyrants that ever existed on the face of the Earth.’ A merely perceptive man, with no intrinsic force no power of generalisation — in short, a pompous nobody. He is aware (for there have been plenty to tell him) that I intend hire in ‘Eureka.’ “I do not comprehend you about my being the ‘autobiographer of Holden’s Magazine.’ I occasionally hear of that work, but have never seen a number of it. “ ‘The Rationale of Verse’ appeared in the last November and December numbers of the Southern Literary Messenger. In the February number I published (editorially) a review of ‘The Fable for Critics’ — It is not much. Lowell might have done better. “I have never written any poem called ‘Ullahana’ What makes you suppose I have? I enclose the last poem (of any length) which I have published (i.e, ‘For Annie’). How do you like it? You know I put much faith in your poetical judgments. It is from Willis’s H. Journal. Do you ever see the Literary World? “Touching the Stylus: Monk Lewis once was asked how he came, in one of his acted plays, to introduce black banditti, when, in the country where the scene was laid, black people were quite unknown. His answer was: ‘I introduced them because I truly anticipated that blacks, would have more effect on my audience than whites — and if I had taken it into my head that, by making them sky-blue the effect would have been greater, why sky-blue they should have been.’ To apply this idea to the Stylus — I am awaiting the best opportunity for its issue; and if by waiting until the day of judgment I perceive still increasing chances of ultimate success, why until the day of judgment I will patiently wait. I am now going to Richmond to I see about it’ — and possibly I may get out the first number next January. “Write soon and more frequently. I always receive your letters with interest. Cordially your friend, “EDGAR A. POE. “Please re-enclose the verses.” Among the friendships Poe made during his last days was that with “Stella,” the authoress of “Records of the Heart,” and other popular works. She says, “I saw much of Mr. Poe during the last year of his life. He was one of the most sensitive and refined gentlemen I ever met. My girlish poem — ‘The Forsaken’ — made us acquainted. He had seen it floating the rounds of the press, and wrote to tell me how much he liked it: ‘It is inexpressibly beautiful,’ he said, ‘and I should like much to know the young author.’ After the first call he frequently dined with us, and passed the evening in playing whist or in reading to me his last poem.” On the 21st of June the poet wrote to this friend with reference to a projected publication of hers: — “I have been spending a couple of hours most pleasantly . . . in reading and re-reading your ‘Child of the Sea.’ When it appears in print — less enticing to the eye, perhaps, than your own graceful MS. — I shall endeavor to do it critical justice in full; but in the meantime permit me to say, briefly, that I think it well conducted as a whole — abounding in narrative passages of unusual force — but especially remarkable for the boldness and poetic fervor of its sentimental portions, where a very striking originality is manifested. The descriptions, throughout, are warmly imaginative. The versification could scarcely be improved. The conception of Zamen is unique — a creation in the best poetic understanding of the term.. I most heartily congratulate you upon having accomplished a work which will live. — Yours most sincerely, EDGAR A. POE.” “The day before he left New York for Richmond,” continues Stella, “Mr. Poe came to dinner, and stayed the night. He seemed very sad and retired early. On leaving the next morning he took my hand in his, and, looking in my face, said, ‘Dear Stella, my much beloved friend. You truly understand and appreciate me — I have a presentiment that I shall never see you again. I must leave to-day for Richmond. If I never return, write my life. You can and will do me justice.’ “ ‘I will!’ I exclaimed. And we parted to meet no more in this life. That promise I have not yet felt equal to fulfil.” Mrs. Clemm was with her ill-fated nephew on this occasion, and spent her last few hours with him at “Stella’s” house. Notwithstanding the gloomy presentiments which oppressed him he attempted to cheer his poor “mother” and friends, by drawing hopeful pictures of his ultimate success: “Cheer up, darling mother,” he said, “your Eddy will yet be a comfort to you. I now see my future before me.” But for all this, Mrs. Clemm records, he “left in such wretched spirits. Before he left home he arranged all his papers, and told me what to do with them should he die. When we parted on the steamboat, although he was so dejected, he still tried to cheer me: ‘God bless you, my own darling mother,’ he said; do not fear for Eddy! See how good I will be while I am away from you, and will come back to love and comfort you.’ ” And with these last words they parted. * Where and when he engaged himself to Mrs. Whitman. — J. H. I. * Subsequently enlarged and published as “Our Island of Dreams.” — J. H. I. * Apparently the tale referred to, “Landor’s Cottage,” did not appear until after Poe’s death. — J. H. I. * By G. H. Lewes? — J. H. I. * Beginnng, “Thank Heaven! the crisis — the danger — is past.” — J. H. I. * “Lines to Edgar A. Poe,” in the Lady’s Book, April 1847. — J. H. I. John H. Ingram, “Chapter 21,” Edgar Allan Poe: Life, Letters, and Opinions (1880), pp. 222-243 CHAPTER XXI. LAST DAYS. EDGAR Poe parted from his mother-in-law on the 30th of June, and on the 9th of July the desolate woman wrote to a friend in these terms: — “Eddy has been gone ten days, and I have not heard one word from him. Do you wonder that I am distracted? I fear everything. . . . Do you wonder that he has so little confidence in any one? Have we not suffered from the blackest treachery? . . . Eddy was obliged to go through Philadelphia, and how much I fear he has got into some trouble there; he promised me so sincerely to write thence. I ought to have heard last Monday, and now it is Monday again and not one word. . . . Oh, if any evil has befallen him, what can comfort me? The day after he left New York, I left Mrs. Lewis and started for home. I called on a rich friend who had made many promises, but never knew our situation. I frankly told her. . . . She proposed to me to leave Eddy, saying he might very well do for himself. . . . Any one to propose to me to leave my Eddy — what