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

occurred at one of the soirdes above alluded to: — “A lady, noted for her great lingual attainments, wishing to apply a wholesome check to the vanity of a young author, proposed inviting him to translate for the company a difficult passage in Greek, of which language she knew him to be profoundly ignorant, although given to a rather pretentious display of Greek quotations in his published writings. Poe’s earnest and persistent remonstrance against this piece of méchanceté alone averted the embarrassing test.” Trifling as this anecdote may appear, it is good proof of that generous and charitable disposition which they who knew him only from the scandalous calumnies of his detractors have so unwarrantably denied him the possession of. Those who have thus far followed Poe’s story through these pages, will know what a passionate adoration he bore towards the beautiful sharer of his luckless lot. “Sometimes,” says Mrs. Whitman,” his fair young wife was seen with him at the weekly assemblages in Waverley Place. She seldom took part in the conversation, but the memory of her sweet and girlish face, always animated and vivacious, repels the assertion, afterwards so cruelly and recklessly made, that she died a victim to the neglect and unkindness of her husband, ‘who,’ as it has been said, ‘deliberately sought her death that he might embalm her memory in immortal dirges.’ . . . We might cite the testimony alike of friends and enemies,” continues Mrs. Whitman, “to Poe’s unvarying kindness towards his young wife and cousin, if other testimony were needed than that of the tender love still. cherished for his memory, by one whose life was made doubly desolate by his death — the sister of his father, and the mother of his Virginia. It is well known to those acquainted with the parties,” Mrs. Whitman proceeds to narrate, “that all who have had opportunities for observation in the matter have noticed her husband’s tender devotion to her during her prolonged illness. Even Dr. Griswold speaks of having visited him during a period of illness caused by protracted anxiety and watching by the side of his sick wife. It is true that, notwithstanding her vivacity and cheerfulness at the time we have alluded to, her health was, even then, rapidly sinking; and it was for her dear sake, and the recovery of that peace which had been so fatally perilled amid the irritations and anxieties of his New York life, that Poe left the city and removed to the little Dutch cottage in Fordham, where he passed the remaining three years of his life.” Returning to the poet’s labours on the Broadway Journal, we find some noteworthy critiques in the last November number, on various works of contemporary and permanent interest. Professor Raumer’s book on America is noticed, chiefly as an instance of the difficulties experienced by foreigners to obtain correct information about American literature, and the fact that the author professedly derived his knowledge of their poets from Griswold’s compilation is commented upon in stinging terms. Victor Hugo is next alluded to, his fictions being referred to as unequalled, whilst his “Notre Dame” calls forth Poe’s enthusiastic sympathy, as “a work of high genius controlled by consummate art.” Tennyson’s “Poems” then come under review, and their creator is spoken of as “a poet who (in our own humble, but sincere opinion) is the greatest that ever lived. We are perfectly Willing to undergo all the censure,” subjoins Poe, “which so heretical an opinion may draw down upon us.” This month’s literary labours were concluded by the publication, in Graham’s Magazine, of the “System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether,” a tale of no particular value. In the December numbers of his Journal Poe gave a lengthy review of the Poems of Mrs. Osgood, of whom more will be heard later on, some appropriate remarks on Mrs. Norton’s “Child of the Isles,” sympathetic allusions to Prescott, reference to “Love and Mesmerism” by Horace Smith, as the work of “an author who never did anything ill,” and manifold minor reviews and notices, including one on the works of Shelley, opined to be “a poet whom all poets, and whom poets only, appreciate.” The days of his periodical were numbered, but before resigning the control of its columns, the poet contrived to enliven the “Editorial Miscellany” with another small skirmish. “The Brook-Farm” folk, now best remembered by their embalmment in Hawthorne’s “Blithedale Romance,” went out of their way to find fault with Poe, whose fame, their chief journal alleged, was degenerating into “notoriety, through a certain blackguard warfare which he had been waging against the poets and newspaper critics of New England, and which it would be most charitable to impute to insanity.” After this last insinuation — a somewhat awkward one for a people so situated as were the “Farmers” — its propounders, reviewing Poe’s recent volume of poems, concluded their animadversions by declaring that the author “does not write for Humanity; he has more of the art than the soul of poetry. He affects to despise the world while he writes for it. He certainly has struck out a remarkable course: the style and imagery of his earliest poems mark a very singular culture, a judgment most severe for a young writer, and a familiarity with the less hackneyed portions of classic lore and nomenclature. He seems to have had an idea of working out his forms from pure white marble. But the poet’s humanity is wanting; a morbid egotism repels you. He can affect you with wonder, but rarely with the thrill of any passion, except, perhaps, of pride, which might be dignity, and which therefore always is interesting. We fear this writer even courts the state described by Tennyson: — “ ‘A glorious devil, large in heart and brain, That did love beauty only.’ ” Of these final not altogether unflattering and in some respects not quite unfaithful, remarks, Poe took no note; but the innuendoes as to his insanity, insulting a Boston audience, ill motives, plagiarism of Tennyson, and so forth, he accompanied by a running commentary as caustic as it was pertinent, introducing the subject in this fashion: — “The Harbinger — edited by ‘The Brook-Farm Phalanx’ — is, beyond doubt, the most reputable organ of the Crazyites. We sincerely respect it — odd as this assertion may appear. It is conducted by an assemblage of well read persons who mean no harm, and who, perhaps, can do less. Their objects are honourable, and so forth — all that anybody can understand of them — and we really believe that Mr. Albert Brisbane, and one or two other ladies and gentlemen, understand all about them that is necessary to be understood. But what we, individually, have done to The Harbinger, or what we have done to ‘The Brook-Farm Phalanx,’ that ‘The Brook-Farm Phalanx’ should stop the ordinary operations at Brook Farm, for the purpose of abusing us, is a point we are unable to comprehend. If we have done anything to affront ‘The Brook-Farm Phalanx’ we will make an apology forthwith — provided ‘The Brook-Farm Phalanx’ (which we have a great curiosity to see) will just step into our office, which is 304 Broadway.” With this farewell volley Poe’s connection with the periodical may be said to have ceased, for although it did not expire until. the following month, and the latest number contained some noteworthy remarks by the poet on Cromwell and on Faber’s Speaking Automaton, the editorial management had then passed into the hands of a certain “Thomas Dunn English,” of whom more will be heard presently. In his Valedictory, the ex-editorial proprietor stated, “Unexpected engagements demanding my whole attention, and the objects being fulfilled, so far as regards myself personally, for which the Broadway Journal was established, I now, as its editor, bid farewell as cordially to foes as to friends.” * Edited by R. W. Griswold. * I. e., the 1845 edition of “Tales.” John H. Ingram, “Chapter 16,” Edgar Allan Poe: Life, Letters, and Opinions (1880), pp. 61-97 CHAPTER XVI. THE LITERATI OF NEW YORK. IT is time that a lady who exercised no slight influence over Edgar Poe, during one portion of his short career, should now be introduced to the reader. Frances Sargent Locke, afterwards Osgood, was one of a literary family, both her sisters and her brother having attained some celebrity, in their days, as authors. She was the daughter of a prosperous American merchant, who took a pride in encouraging the poetic efforts of his children. Whilst Frances was still a girl in years, but already noted for her beauty, Mr. S. Osgood, an artist of reputation, undertook to paint her portrait, and during the sittings is stated to have charmed the fair maiden — as Othello did Desdemona — by a recital of his adventures at home and abroad. As might be imagined, the result of these sittings was the formation of an attachment between the youthful poetess and her portrait painter, and, eventually, their marriage. In 1834 the Osgoods visited Europe, and took up their residence in London, of the Royal Academy of which city the artist had formerly been a pupil. The talents of the husband, and the grace and beauty of the wife, appear to have interested the good people of the British metropolis in their favour. Portraits of the Hon. Mrs. Norton, the poet Rogers, and other persons of celebrity, were painted by Mr. Osgood, whilst his young bride earned her moiety of reputation by a graceful volume of verse, published as “A Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England.” A drama written by the fair authoress at the instigation of Sheridan Knowles, was accepted for representation at Drury Lane, but indefinitely postponed performance in consequence of the recall of the Osgoods to America, on account of the illness and death of the authoress’ father. The gifted pair returned to their native land in 1840, and speedily took a foremost station in literary and artistic society, Mr. Osgood, however, occasionally going away on lengthy tours in search of that Beautiful which he might have found at home. Meanwhile, the poetess became a frequent contributor of graceful vers de société, and literary sketches, to the leading American magazines and annuals, and in this capacity attracted the notice of Edgar Poe. He reviewed her poems with that chivalrous rather than critical enthusiasm he reserved for female authors, and deemed for her “Not to write poetry, not to act it, think it, dream it, and be it, is entirely out of her power.” Upon the poet’s removal to New York he found the Osgoods already resident there. It was impossible for the two families to mix in the same circles, as they did, without meeting, and Poe’s first interview with the fair authoress has been thus described in Mrs. Osgood’s own words: — “My first meeting with the poet was at the Astor House. A few days previous, Mr. Willis had handed me, at the table d‘hôte, that strange and thrilling poem entitled The Raven, saying that the author wanted my opinion of it. Its effect upon me was so singular, so like that of ‘weird, unearthly music,’ that it was with a feeling almost of dread I heard he desired an introduction. Yet I could not refuse without seeming ungrateful, because I had just heard of his enthusiastic and partial eulogy of my writings, in his lecture on American Literature. I shall never forget the morning when I was summoned to the drawing-room by Mr. Willis to receive him. With his proud and beautiful head erect, his dark eyes flashing with the electric light of feeling and thought, a peculiar, an inimitable blending of sweetness and hauteur in his expression and manner, he greeted me calmly, gravely, almost coldly; yet with so marked an earnestness that I could not help being deeply impressed by it. From that moment until his death we were friends.” The friendship thus inaugurated between the two poets exercised an undoubted influence upon both of them. In the sympathetic society of Frances Osgood the