 CHAPTER 1 FIRST GLIMPSE OF EDGAR POE It may be regarded as a somewhat curious coincidence that the first glimpse afforded us of Edgar Poe is on the authority of my own mother. This is the story, as she told it to me. In the summer of 1811 there was a fine company of players in Norfolk, and we children were as a special treat taken to see them. I remember the names of Mr. Placide, Mr. Green, Mr. Young, and Mr. Poe, with their wives. I can recall Mrs. Young as a large, fair woman with golden hair, but my most distinct recollection is of Mrs. Poe. She was rather small, with a round, rosy, laughing face, short dark curls and beautiful large blue eyes. Her manner was gay and saucy, and the audience was continually applauding her. She appeared to me a young girl, but was past thirty, and had been twice married. At this time, continued my mother, we were living on Main Street, and my uncle, Dr. Robert Butt of the House of Burgesses, lived close by on Bermuda Street. The large, bright, garret room of his house was used by our little cousins as a playroom, and was separated from that of the adjoining house by only a wooden partition. One day, when we were playing here, we heard voices on the other side of the partition, and peeping through a small knothole saw two pretty children, with whom we soon made acquaintance. Mr. and Mrs. Poe had taken lodgings in this garret with a little boy and girl and an old Welsh nurse. Sometimes this woman would say to us, Hush, hush, dumplings, don't make a noise! And we knew that someone was sick in that room. Most of the time she had the children out of doors, and in the evenings we would play with them on the sidewalk. The boy was a merry, romping little fellow, but hard to manage. One day, when he would persist in playing in the middle of the street, a runaway horse came dashing around a corner, and I remember how the nurse rushed toward him, screaming, Oh, Edgar, Edgar, snatching him away at the risk of her own life. The nurse was a very nice old woman, plump, rosy, and good-natured. She wore a huge white cap with flaring frills and pronounced her words in a way that amused us. She was devoted to the children, who were spoiled and willful. The little girl was running all about, and the boy appeared about three years old. Of this old lady it may be here said that she was really the mother of Mrs. Poe, whom she called Betty. As an actress of the name of Arnold, she had played in various companies in both this country and Europe, taking parts in which comic songs were sung. Her pretty daughter, Elizabeth, she had brought up to her own profession, and had married her early to an actor named Hopkins, who died in October 1805. Two months after his death, his widow married David Poe, who was at that time a member of their company, and meanwhile her mother, Mrs. Arnold, had bestowed her own hand upon a musician of the romantic name of Tubbs, who soon left her a widow. Thenceforth she devoted herself to her daughter's family, remaining with the company and occasionally appearing in some unimportant part. When in the summer of that year of 1814 Mr. Placid's company left Norfolk to open a season in Richmond, Mr. David Poe was too ill with consumption to accompany them, and his family remained in Norfolk. He must undoubtedly have died there, for from that time in all the affairs of his family his name is not once mentioned, nor is the remotest allusion made to him. He was probably buried by the city in one of the obscure suburban cemeteries. By his death the widow was left penniless, and Mr. Placid, to whose company she still belonged, and who was anxious to have her services in his Richmond campaign, sent one of his employees to bring the family to Richmond, at his own expense. A room and board had been engaged for them, at the house of a milliner named Phipps on Main Street, in the low-lying district between 15th and 17th Streets, still known as Bird in Hand. This room was not by any means the wretched apartment which it has been described by some of Poe's biographers. It was not a cellar, not even a basement room, but one back of the shop, the family residing above, and must have been comfortably furnished, for this neighborhood was, at this time, the shopping district of the Ladies of Richmond, and Mrs. Phipps was probably a fashionable shopkeeper. Damp, Mrs. Poe's room must have been, since this locality was the lowest point in the city, where, when the river overflowed its banks, as was frequently the case, the water would rise to the back doors of the Main Street buildings, and at times flood the ground floors. In this room Mrs. Poe contracted the malaria fever, then known as Agu and Fever, which proved fatal to her. Owing to her illness Mrs. Poe, though her appearance was constantly advertised, did not appear on the stage more than half a dozen times, if as often. Mr. Placid wrote to her husband's relatives in Baltimore, in behalf of herself and children, but received no satisfactory answer, and the company kindly gave her a benefit performance. Also one of the Richmond papers, the Enquirer of November 25th, made an appeal to the kind-hearted of the city, in behalf of the sick actress and her little children. This brought to their aid, among others, Mr. John Allen and his friend Mr. McKenzie. Both these gentlemen were engaged in the tobacco business, and being of Scotch nationality, the feeling of clanship led them to take a special interest in this family, whom they discovered to be of good Scotch stock. Everything possible was done for their comfort, and Mrs. Allen herself came to minister to the sick woman. On her first visit she found Mrs. Tubbs feeding the children with bread soaked in sweetened gin and water, which she called gin tea, and explained that it was her custom, in order to make them strong and healthy. This was little Edgar's initiation into the habit which became the bane and ruin of his life. It soon became evident that Mrs. Poe was very near her end, pneumonia said in, and on the 8th of December, 1811, she died. The question now was, what was to be done with the children? After a consultation among all parties it was agreed that Mr. McKenzie and Mr. Allen should take charge of them at their own homes, until they should be claimed by their Baltimore relatives. It was a sad scene when the little ones were lifted up to look their last upon the face of their dead mother, and then to be separated forever from the grandmother who had so loved and cared for them. In parting she gave to each a memento of their mother. To the boy, a small watercolor portrait of the latter, inscribed, For my dear little son, Edgar, from his mother, and to the girl, a jewel case, the contents of which had long since been disposed of. It was all that she had to leave them, and with this slender inheritance in their hands the little wafes were taken away to the homes of strangers. On the day following a small funeral procession wended its way up the steep ascent of Church Hill to the graveyard of St. John's Church, crowning its summit. At that day it was no easy matter to get one whose profession had been that of an actor buried in consecrated ground, yet Mr. McKenzie succeeded in affecting this. The grave was in a then obscure part of the cemetery, close against the eastern wall, and here, after the brief service, the mother of Edgar Poe was laid to rest. Mrs. Tubbs remained with Mr. Placid's company, and doubtless returned with them to England and to her own family. Six weeks after the death of Mrs. Poe occurred that awful tragedy and holocaust of the burning of the Richmond Theatre, which shrouded the whole country in gloom. On that night a large and fashionable audience attended the performance of The Bleeding Nun, eighty of whom perished in the flames. Mrs. Allen had expressed a wish to attend, with her sister and little Edgar, but her husband objected, and instead took them on a Christmas visit to the country, so they escaped the tragedy, as did also the members of Placid's company. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of the Home Life of Poe by Susan Archer Weiss This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Poe's First Home Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie, on taking charge of the Poe children, entered into a correspondence with their grandfather, Mr. David Poe of Baltimore, in regard to them. He was by no means anxious to claim them. He represented that he and his wife were old and poor, and that already having the eldest child, William Henry, upon his hands, he could not afford to burden himself with the others. Finally he proposed that the children should be placed in an orphan asylum, where they would be properly cared for, on hearing of which Mrs. McKenzie declared that she would never turn the baby, rosely, out of her home, but would bring her up with her own children, while Mrs. Allen, who was childless and had become much attached to Edgar, proposed to her husband to adopt him. Mr. Allen demurred. His chief objection was that the boy was the child of actors, and that to have him brought up as his son would not be advisable for him or creditable to themselves. It required some special pleading on the part of the lady, and she so far prevailed as that her husband consented to keep and care for the boy as for a son, but refused to be bound by any terms of legal responsibility, as either guardian or adoptive parent, preferring to remain free to act in the future as he might think proper. Mr. McKenzie pursued the same course with regard to rosely, though each bestowed on his protege his own family name in baptism. There has been much useless discussion among Poe's biographers in regard to the ages of the children at this time. Woodbury calculates, according to certain data obtained from a Boston newspaper regarding the appearance of Mrs. Poe on the stage. At this time, he says, speaking of her prolonged absence in 1807, William Henry may have been born, and accordingly fixes Edgar's birth as having occurred two years later in 1809. To satisfy myself on this point, I sometimes since decided to go to the fountainhead for information, and wrote to Mrs. Bird, a daughter of Mrs. McKenzie, who had been brought up with Rosalie Poe. Her answer I have carefully preserved and here give verbatim. Dear S. You ask the ages of Rose and Edgar. He was born in 1808, Rose in 1810. A remark of his, in answer to an invitation to her wedding, was that if I had put off my marriage one week it would have been on his birthday. I was married on the 5th of October. Their mother died on the 8th December, 1811, and on the 9th the children were taken to Mr. Allen's and our house. Their mother was boarding at Mrs. Phipps, a milliner on Main Street. She was Scotch and of good family, and my father and Mr. Allen had her put away decently at the old church on the hill. Mr. Poe died first. This account of the children's ages is entitled to more weight than those of his biographers, based upon mere calculations and probabilities. When the children were baptized as Edgar Allen and Rosalie McKenzie, their ages were also recorded, though whether in church or family records is not known. And it is not likely that Mrs. Byrd, who was brought up with Rosalie Poe, could be mistaken on this point. Were Woodbury correct in assuming that William Henry, the eldest child, may have been born in October 1807 and Edgar July 19, 1809, it would follow that the latter, when taken charge of by the Allen's in December 1811, was less than two years old. An impossibility, considering that his sister was then over one year old and running about playing with other children. As to Mr. Poe's claim to October 12 as his birthday, it is not likely that, howsoever often he may have given a false date to others, he would have ventured upon it to the daughter of Mrs. McKenzie, the latter of whom would have detected the error. It must be accepted as a final conclusion that, as Mrs. Byrd states, Edgar was born in 1808 and Rosalie in 1810. Her positive assertion is proof sufficient against all mere calculation and conjecture, and in this book I shall hold to these dates as authentic. CHAPTER III of THE HOMELIFE OF POE by Susan Archer Weiss Mr. Allen was, at this time, thirty-one years of age, a plain practical businessman, or, as someone has described him, an honest, hard-headed Scotchman, kindly but stubborn and irascible. His wife, some years younger than himself, was a beautiful woman, warm-hearted, impulsive, and fond of company and amusement. Both were charitable, and though not at this time in what is called society, were in comfortable circumstances, and fond of entertaining their friends. There was yet another member of the family, Ms. Anne Valentine, an elder sister of Mrs. Allen, a lady of lovely disposition, and almost as fond of Edgar as was his so-called mother. She was always his aunt Nancy. The Allens were at this time living in the business part of the town, occupying one of a row of dingy three-story brick houses, still standing on 14th Street, between Main and Franklin. Mr. Allen had his store on the ground floor, the family apartments being above. This was, at that time, and until long afterward, a usual mode of living with some of the downtown merchants, though a few had already built handsome residences on Shocko Hill. Little Edgar, bright, gay, and beautiful, soon became the pet and pride of the household. Even Mr. Allen grew fond of him, and his wife delighted in taking him about and showing him off among her acquaintances. In his baggy little trousers of yellow nankin or silk-pongy, with his dark ringlets flowing over an immense tucker, red silk stockings and peaked purple velvet cap, with its heavy gold tassel falling gracefully on one shoulder, he was the admiration of all beholders. His disposition was affectionate and his temper sweet, though having been hitherto allowed to have his own way he was self-willed and sometimes difficult to manage. To correct his faults and as a counterbalance to his wife's undue indulgence, Mr. Allen conscientiously said about training the boy according to his own ideas of what was best. When Edgar was good he was petted and indulged, but an act of disobedience or wrongdoing was punished, as some said with undue severity. To shield him from this was the aim of the family, even of the servants, and the boy soon learned to resort to various little tricks and artifices on his own account. An amusing instance of this was told by Mrs. Allen herself. Edgar one day would persist in running out in the rain when Mr. Allen preemptorily called him in with the thread of a whipping. He presently entered and, meekly walking up to his guardian, looked him in the face with his large, solemn gray eyes and held out a bunch of switches. What are these for? inquired the latter. To whip me with, answered the little diplomat, and Mr. Allen had to turn aside to hide a smile, for the switches had been selected with a purpose, being only the long, tough leaf stems of the alanthus tree. Another anecdote, I recall, illustrative of the strict discipline to which Edgar was subject. My uncle, Mr. Edward Valentine, who was a cousin of Mrs. Allen, and often a visitor at her house, was very fond of Edgar, and liking fun almost as much as did the child, taught him many amusing little tricks. One of these was to snatch away a chair from some big boy about to seat himself. But Edgar, too young to discriminate, on one occasion made a portly and dignified old lady the subject of this performance. Mr. Allen, who in his anger was always impulsive, immediately led away the culprit, and his wife took the earliest opportunity of going to console her pet. As the child was little over three years old, it may be doubted whether the punishment administered was the wisest course, but it was Mr. Allen's way, who apparently believed in the moral suasion of the rod. Edgar had no dogs and no pony, and did not ride out with a groom to attend him like a little prince, as a biographer has represented. At this time the Allen's circumstances were not such as to admit of such luxuries. As to his appearance in this style at the famous White Sulphur Springs, that is equally mythical. There was, however, at least one summer when Edgar was six years of age, in which the Allen's wore it one of the lesser Virginia Springs, and in returning paid a visit to Mr. Valentine's family near Stanton. This gentleman often took Edgar out with him, either driving or seated behind him on horseback, and on receiving his paper from the country post office would make the boy read the news to the Mountain Rustics, who regarded him as a prodigy of learning. Thus far he had been taught by an old Scotch dame who kept an infant school, and who then and for years afterward called him Hurrain we ladi, and to whom as long as she lived he was accustomed to carry offerings of choice-smoking tobacco. He also learned from her to speak in the broad Scottish dialect, which greatly amused and pleased Mr. Allen. The boy was, even at this age, remarkably quick in learning anything. Mr. Valentine also delighted in getting up wrestling matches between Edgar and the little Piccaninis with whom he played, rewarding the victor with gifts of money. But there was one thing which no money or other reward could induce the boy to undertake, and this was to go near the country churchyard after sunset, even in company with these same little darkies. Once in riding home late, Edgar being seated behind Mr. Valentine, they passed a deserted log cabin, near which were several graves. When the boy's nervous terror became so great that he attempted to get in front of his companion, who took him on the saddle before him. They would run after us and pull me off, he said, betraying at even this early age the weird imagination of his mature years. This incident led to his being questioned when it was discovered that he had been accustomed to go with his coloured mammy to the servants' rooms in the evenings, and there listened to the horrible stories of ghosts and graveyard apparitions such as this ignorant and superstitious race delight in. It is not improbable that the gruesome sketch of the Tempest family, one of his earliest published, whose ghosts are represented as seated in coffins around a table in an undertaker's shop, and thence flying back to their nearby graves, was not inspired by some such story heard in Mr. Allen's kitchen. Undoubtedly these ghostly narratives heard at this early and impressionable age served in part to produce those weird and ghoulish imaginings which characterise some of Poe's writings, and to create that tinge of superstition which was well known to his friends. He always avoided cemeteries, hated the sight of coffins and skeletons, and would never walk alone at night even on the street, believing that evil spirits haunted the darkness and walked beside the lonely Wayfarer, watching to do him a mischief. Death he loathed and feared, and a corpse he would not look upon. And yet, as bound by a weird fascination, he wrote continually of death. Edgar Poe, like every other southern child, had his negro mammy to attend to him until he went to England, to whom, and the other servants, he was as much attached as they to him. Indeed, a marked trait of his character was his liking for negroes, the effect of early association, and to the end of his life he delighted in talking with them, and in their quaint and kindly humor and odd modes of thought and expression. Edgar had been about three years with the Allens when he was again deprived of a home and sent among strangers. Mr. Allen went on a business trip to England and Scotland, accompanied by his wife, Miss Valentine and Edgar, the latter of whom was put to school in London, where he must have felt his loneliness and isolation. Still he came to the Allens in holiday times, and was with them in Scotland for some months, previous to their return to Virginia. Little is known of them during this absence of five years. CHAPTER IV The Allens returned to Richmond in June 1820. Edgar been, then, twelve years old. Having no house ready for their reception, they were invited by Mr. Ellis, Mr. Allen's business partner, to his home on Franklin, then is now the fashionable street of the city. Mr. Allen at once put Edgar to Professor Clark's Classical School, where he was an intimate association with boys of the best city families. At the end of this year the Allens removed to a plain cottage-like dwelling at the corner of Clay and Fifth Streets, in a quiet and out-of-the-way neighborhood. It consisted of but five rooms on the ground floor and a half-story above, and here for some years they resided. Of Poe is a schoolboy various accounts have been given by former schoolmates, with most of whom he was very popular, while others represent him as reserved and not generally liked. All however agree that he was a remarkably bright pupil with, in the higher classes, but one rival, and that he was high-spirited and the leader in all sorts of fun and frolic. Mrs. McKenzie's eldest son, John, or Jack, two years older than Edgar, though not mentioned by any of Poe's biographers, was the most intimate and trusted of his lifelong friends. The two were playmates in childhood, and schoolmates and companions up to the time of Poe's departure for the university. Poe always called Mrs. McKenzie ma, and was almost as much at home in her house as was his sister. I remember Mr. John McKenzie as a portly, jolly, middle-aged gentleman, with a florid face and a hearty laugh. This is what he said of Poe after the latter's death. I never saw in him, as boy or man, a sign of morbidness or melancholy. Unless, he added, it was when Mrs. Stannard died, when he appeared for some time grieving and depressed. At all other times he was bright and full of fun and high spirits. He delighted in playing practical jokes, masquerading, and making raids on orchards and turnip patches. Oh, yes, every schoolboy liked a sweet, tender, juicy turnip, and many a time after the apple-crop had been gathered in, we might have been seen, a half a dozen of us, seated on a rail fence like so many crows, munching turnips. We didn't object to a raw sweet potato at times, anything that had the relish of being stolen. On Saturdays we had fish-fries by the river, or tramped into the woods for wild grapes and chinkapins. It was not always that Mr. Allen would allow Edgar to go on these excursions, and more than once he would steal off and join us, though knowing that he would be punished for it. Mr. Allen was a good man in his way, added Mr. McKenzie, but Edgar was not fond of him. He was sharp and exacting, and with his long hooked nose and small keen eyes, looking from under his shaggy eyebrows, always reminded me of a hawk. I know that often, when angry with Edgar, he would threaten to turn him adrift, and that he never allowed him to lose sight of his dependence on his charity. Edgar, he said, was allowed a liberal weekly supply of pocket money, but being of a generous disposition, and giving treats of taffy and hot gingerbread to his schoolmates at recess, besides being generally extravagant, this supply was always exhausted before the week was out, when he would borrow, and so be kept constantly in debt. He was, however, very prompt in paying off his debts. Mr. Robert Sully, nephew of the distinguished artist Thomas Sully, and himself an artist, was through life one of Poe's firmest friends. A boy of delicate physique, and a disposition so sensitive and irritable that few could keep on good terms with him, he was always in difficulties. I was a dull boy at school, he said to me, and Edgar, when he knew that I had an unusually hard lesson, would help me out with it. He would never allow the big boys to tease me, and was kind to me in every way. I used to admire, and in a way envy him, he was so bright, clever and handsome. He lived not far from me, just around the corner, and one Saturday he came running up to our house, calling out, Come along, Rob, we are going to the Hermitage Woods for chinkapins, and you must come, too. Uncle Billy is going for a load of pine needles, and we can ride in his wagon. Now that showed his consideration, he knowing that I could not walk the long distances that most boys could, and therefore seldom went on one of their excursions. In one of Poe's biographies is an absurd story, to the effect that Mr. Clark, his first teacher, once on detecting him robbing a neighbor's turnip patch, tied one of the vegetables about his neck as a token of disgrace, which the boy purposely wore home, when Mr. Allen, in a fury at this insult to his adopted son, called on the teacher, and threatened him with personal chastisement. It is scarcely necessary at this day to deny the truth of that story, but the following is what Mr. Clark himself says about it, in an interview with a reporter in Baltimore some years after Poe's death. He being, at that time, nearly eighty years old. Edgar had a very sweet disposition. He was always cheerful, brimful of mirth, and a very great favorite with his schoolmates. I never had occasion to speak a harsh word to him, much less to make him do penance. He had a great ambition to excel. He spoke with pride of Edgar as a student, especially in the classics. He and Nat Howard, on one vacation, each wrote him a complimentary letter in Latin, both equally excellent in point of scholarship, but Edgar's was inverse, which Nat could not write. Whenever Poe came to Baltimore he would not forget to come and see me, and I would offer him wine. It was the custom, you know. When he became editor of Graham's magazine and could afford it he sent wine to me, gratis. I think that his boy and man Edgar loved me dearly. I am sure I loved him. Yes. He was a dear, open-hearted, cheerful, and good boy, and as a man he was a loving and affectionate friend to me. I went to his funeral. The old professor said that Poe's sister, Rosalie, he had seen when her brother was a pupil of his. She was at that time about ten years old, was pretty, and a very sweet child. Poe, after leaving Professor Clark's, entered Dr. Burke's Classical School in 1832, where he remained until he went to the university. Here one of his classmates was Dr. Creed Thomas, a noted Richmond physician, who died so late as in 1890. In his reminiscences of Poe, published in a Richmond paper not long before his own death, he says, Poe is one of our brightest pupils. He read and scanned the Latin poets with ease when scarcely thirteen years of age. He was an apt student and always recited well, with a great ambition to excel in everything. Despite his retiring disposition he was never lacking in courage. There was not a pluckier boy in school. He never provoked a quarrel, but would always stand up for his rights. It was a noticeable fact that he never asked any of his schoolmates to go home with him after school. The boys would frequently, on Fridays, take dinner, or spend the night, with each other at their homes. But Poe was never known to enter in this social intercourse. After he left the school ground we saw no more of him until next day. Dr. Thomas spoke of Poe's fondness for the stage. He and several other of the brightest boys held amateur theatricals in an old building rented for the purpose. Poe was one of the best actors, but Mr. Allen, upon learning of it, forbade his having anything to do with these theatricals. A great grievance to the boy. A singular fact, proceeds Dr. Thomas, is that Poe never got a whipping while at Berks. I remember that the boys used to come in for a flogging quite frequently. I got my share. Poe was quiet and dignified during school hours, attending strictly to his studies, and we all used to wonder at his escaping the rod so successfully. He adds that Poe was not popular with most of his schoolmates, but his manners were retiring and distant. Doubtless there were boys with whom he did not care to associate, feeling the lack of a congeniality between himself and them. Then there were the prim and priggish class, who looked with virtuous disapproval on the robber of apple orchards and turnip patches, and who, in after years, never had a good word to say of Poe, whether as boy or man. It will be observed, from Dr. Davis's account, that the quiet and dignified manner which distinguished Poe in manhood was natural to him even as a boy. As regards his never inviting his schoolmates to accompany him home to dinner or to spend the night, this would not have been agreeable to Edgar, who would have preferred having his time to himself for reading or writing his verses, a volume of which he now began to make up. But he was by no means deprived of company at home. The Allens, as has been said, were fond of entertaining their friends, and at their sociables and tea parties Edgar was generally required to be present, with one or two young friends to keep him company, and often he was treated to a party of his own, boys and girls, where a rigid etiquette was required, though dancing and charades were indulged in. This was Mrs. Allens' idea of affording him enjoyment and cultivating in him elegant and graceful manners. But to him it was most distasteful. Throughout his life he detested social companies. Mrs. McKenzie, in speaking of the social restraint under which the Allens at this time sought to keep Edgar, said that it was very distasteful to the boy, who liked to choose his companions, and who now, at the age of fifteen, began to be dissatisfied and to think that he was subject to undue restraint at home. She often heard him express the wish that he had been adopted by Mr. McKenzie instead of by Mr. Allen, and she would talk to him in her motherly way, endeavouring to impress him with a sense of what he owed to the latter. His disposition, she said, was very sweet and affectionate, and he was grateful for any kindness, and always happy to be at her house as much as he was allowed to be from home. Her son John could never be persuaded to visit Edgar at his home, so strict was the etiquette observed at table and in general behaviour. She believed that Mr. Allen, in taking charge of Edgar, had been influenced more by a desire to please his wife than any real interest in the child, though he had conscientiously endeavour to do his duty by him. She had once heard him say that Edgar did not know the meaning of the word gratitude, to which she replied that it could not be expected of children who were not able to understand their obligations and that she did not, at present, look for gratitude from Rose but for affection and obedience. Mrs. Allen was devoted to Edgar, and he was very fond of her. It was she, Mrs. McKenzie thought, rather than her husband, who so extravagantly supplied him with money, seeming to take a pride in his having more than his schoolmates. He was a good and amiable woman, fond of pleasure generally, and less domestic in her tastes than either her husband or sister. Mr. John McKenzie, in speaking of Edgar, bore witness to his high spirit and pluckiness in occasional schoolboy encounters, and also to his timidity in regard to being alone at night and his belief in and fear of the supernatural. He had heard Poe say, when grown, that the most horrible thing he could imagine as a boy was to feel an ice-cold hand laid upon his face in a pitch-dark room when alone at night, or to awaken in semi-darkness and see an evil face gazing close into his own, and that these fancies had so haunted him that he would often keep his head under the bed-covering until nearly suffocated. The restrictions sought to be placed upon Poe's associations and amusements served only to render him more democratic. He, with two or three of his young friends of congenial tastes, were fond of stealing off for a bath in the river, near rockets or below the falls, in company with the hearty and venturous boys of those localities who were known as river rats. It was from them that he learned to swim, to row, and, when the river was low, to wade across its rocky bed to the willowy islands and set fish-traps. When in Richmond in after-years, he told how he had met with some of these former companions and how much he had enjoyed talking with them about old times on the river. As regards religious influences and teachings in the Allen home, it does not appear that Edgar was especially subject to these. Mr. and Mrs. Allen were members of St. John's Episcopal Church and Punctilius in all church observances, and they required of Edgar a strict attendance at Sunday school and his presence in the family pew during divine service. But in those days it was not thought necessary for professed Christians to deny themselves social pleasures. On Sundays luxurious dinners were provided, to which friends were invited from church, and rides and drives were indulged in. Edgar was sent to dancing school, and Mrs. Allen had her dancing entertainments and her husband his card-parties, which were attended by some of the most prominent professional men of the city. Amusements which, as is well known, exposed Episcopalians to the charge of worldliness by other denominations. At all these entertainments wine flowed freely. I have an impression, too vague to be asserted as fact, that Edgar Poe was confirmed, at the same time with his sister and Mary McKenzie, at St. John's Church, and by the clergymen who had baptized them. To any inquiry as to his religious denomination he always answered, I am an Episcopalian. But it was often remarked upon by their friends in Richmond that neither he nor Rosalie had ever been known to manifest a sign of religious feeling or of interest in religious things. It was noticeable in both that, phrenologically considered, the organ of veneration was so undeveloped as to give a depressed or flat appearance to the top of the head when seen in profile. And it was known to pose intimate friends that, while he believed in a supreme power, he had no faith in the doctrine of the divinity of Christ. Hence, he was as a bark at sea with a guiding star in view but no rudder to direct its course. His eager searching for truth was ever but a groping in darkness, with now and then a faint, faraway ray of the light of truth flashing upon his sight, as we see in Eureka. Yet Poe was careful to offer no disrespect to religion, and he was a frequent attendant at church and a great lover of church music. Great injustice has been done the Allens by Poe's biographers in representing them as responsible for his early dissipation. By all, the story has been repeated of how the child of three or four years was accustomed to be given a glass of wine at dinner parties and required to drink the health of the company. It was no unusual thing for little children to be taught this trick for the amusement of company. As for my own recollections I can myself aver. But the liquor given them was simply a little sweetened wine and water. As Edgar grew older he was, like other boys in his position, as the Mackenzie's, allowed his glass of wine at table, but no word was ever heard of his being fond of wine until his return from the university. I have heard a Richmond gentleman who was Poe's chum at the university speak of the latter's peculiar manner of drinking. He was no connoisseur, they said, in either wine or other liquors, and seemed to care little for their mere taste or flavor. You never saw him critically discussing his wine or smacking his lips over its excellence, but he would generally swallow his glass at a draught as though it had been water, especially when he was in any way worried. In this way he would soon become intoxicated while his companions remained sober. He had the weakest head of any one that I ever knew, said this gentleman, who attributed his dissipation while at the university not to a natural inclination but to a weakness of will which allowed himself to be easily influenced by his companions. Hitherto we have seen in Poe the schoolboy only what was amiable and lovable, but now in his sixteenth year he began to show that beneath this were springs of bitterness which, when disturbed, could arouse him to a passion and a power hitherto unsuspected. I never heard of but one authentic instance of his being subject to slight or snubbing while a boy, on account of his parentage or his dependent position in Mr. Allen's family, although several writers have taken it for granted that such was the case. What effect such treatment would have had upon him is evinced in the instance in question, in which a young man, a sprig of an aristocratic family, chose to object to an association with the son of actors, and not only made a point of ignoring him on all occasions but made offence of allusions to him as a charity boy. This last being reported to Edgar aroused in him a resentment which found expression in a rhyming lampoon upon Don Pompiosa, so brimful of wit, sarcasm, and keenest ridicule that it was circulated throughout the city for some time, though none knew who was the author. The young man in question could not make his appearance upon the street without being pointed out and laughed at, with audible allusions to Don Pompiosa, and was, it was said, at length actually driven from the town, leaving Poe triumphant. This was the forerunner of those keen literary onslaughts which in after-years made Poe as a critic, the terror of his enemies. CHAPTER V The Poe was, both his boy and man, unusually susceptible to the influence of feminine charms, has been the testimony of all who best knew him. I never knew the time, said Mr. McKenzie, that Edgar was not in love with someone. Nor was it unusual for me, when a girl, to meet with some comely matron, who would laughingly admit that she had been one of Edgar Poe's sweethearts. Neither did he confine his boyish gallantries to girls of his own age, but admired grown-up bells and young married ladies as well, though this was probably, in a great measure, owing to the playful petting with which they treated the handsome and chivalrous boy-lover. But this was a trait which did not meet with the approval of Miss Jane McKenzie, sister of the gentleman who adopted Rosalie Poe. This lady, noted for her elegant manners and accomplishments, kept a fashionable young lady's boarding school, patronized by the best families of the state, and many a brilliant bell and admired Virginia Matron, boasted of having received her education at Miss Jane's. As I remember her, she was tall and stately, prim and precise, and was attired generally in black silk, an elaborate cap and friset, a very lady-priorist sort of person. She had the reputation of being exceedingly strict in regard to the manners and conduct of her pupils, and was a contrast to the rest of her family, all of whom were remarkably genial. When Edgar was about fifteen or sixteen, he began to make trouble for Miss Jane. Repeatedly she would detect him in secret correspondence with some one of her fair pupils, supplemented, on his part, by offerings of candy and original poetry, his sister Rosalie being the medium of communication. These verses were sometimes compared by the fair recipients, and found to be alike, with the exception of slight changes appropriate to each, a practice which he kept up in after-years. He possessed some skill in drawing, and it was his habit to make pencil sketches of his girlfriends, with locks of their hair attached to the cards. Poe himself has told of his boyish devotion to Mrs. Stannard, which made so deep an impression upon the mind and heart of the embryo poet. The story is well known of how he once accompanied little Robert Stannard home from school, to see his pet pigeons and rabbits, and how his heart was won by the gentle and gracious reception given him by the boy's lovely mother, and the tenderness of tone and manner with which she talked to him, she knowing his pathetic history. In his heart a court of feeling was stirred which had never before been touched, and thenceforth he regarded her with a passionate and reverential devotion, such as we may imagine the religious devotee to feel for the Madonna. He calls this the first pure and ideal love of his soul, and possibly it may, in time, have been increased by the knowledge of the doom which hung above, and overtook her at the last, the partial shrouding of the bright intellect, the effect of a hereditary taint. Indeed, it is probable that on this account Poe saw very little, if anything, of Mrs. Stannard in the two succeeding years, in which time she led a secluded life with her family, dying in April 1824, at the age of thirty-one. But the impression had been made, and remained with him during his lifetime, forming the one solitary ideal which pervaded nearly all his poems, the death of the young, lovely, and beloved. This experience was probably the beginning of those occasional, dreamy, and melancholy moods about this time noticed by some of his companions. The living friend of his boyhood's dream became the lost Lenore of his mature years. But though Poe deeply felt the loss of this beloved friend, the story is not to be accepted that he was accustomed to go at night to the cemetery where she was buried, and there, prostrate on her grave, weep away the long hours of cold and darkness. No one who knew Poe in his boyhood, with his horror of cemeteries, of darkness, and of being alone at night, would believe this story, first told by Poe himself to Mrs. Whitman, and by her poetic fancy further embellished. Hence this is the practical refutation afforded by the high brick wall and locked gates of the cemetery, with a strict discipline of the Allen Home, which would have made such midnight excursions impossible. Another account connected with Mrs. Stannard, and repeated by Poe's biographers, until it has become an article of faith with the public, is that the exquisite lines to Helen were inspired by an address to that lady. If written at ten years of age, as Poe asserts, it will be remembered that he was at this time at school in London, and it was not until two years after his return, and when he was thirteen years of age, that he ever saw Mrs. Stannard. He might have altered the lines to suit her, his psyche with the pale and classic face, and I recall that the folded scroll of the first version was afterward changed to the agate lamp within thy hand, as more appropriate to Psyche. Poe never made an alteration in his poems that was not an improvement. Those who knew Mrs. Stannard describe her as slender and graceful, with regular, delicate features, a complexion of marble pallor, and dark, pensive eyes. A portrait of her which was in possession of her son, Judge Robert Stannard, represented her as a young girl wearing, perhaps in respect to her Scottish descent, a snood in her dark, curling hair. CHAPTER VI A VETGER POE'S SISTER ROSALY It may be said that all accounts represent her as having been, up to the age of ten years, a pretty child, with blue eyes and rosy cheeks, and of a sweet disposition. Though we've even seen nothing of Edgar's talent and quickness at learning, she was yet a rather better pupil than the average, and it had been Miss Mackenzie's intention to give her every advantage of education afforded by her own school, so as to fit her for becoming a teacher. But when Rosalie Poe was in her eleventh or twelfth year a strange change came over her, for which her friends could never account. Without having ever been ill, a sudden blight seemed to fall upon her, as frost upon a flower, and she drooped as it were, mentally and physically. She lost all energy and ambition, and thenceforth made little or no progress in her studies, growing up into a languid and uninteresting girlhood. Still, she was amiable, generous, and devoted to her friends, who were generally chosen for their personal beauty, and for this reason my sister was a great favourite with her. To Mrs. Mackenzie she was always dutiful and affectionate, but her great pride and affection centred in her brother. She felt painfully, and would often allude to, the difference between them. Once she said to me, Of course, I can't expect Edgar to love me as I do him. He is so far above me. A peculiarity of Miss Poe is worth mentioning, because it is once shared by her brother, and must have been hereditary. She could not taste wine without its having an immediate effect upon her. She would, after venturing to take a glass of wine at dinner, sleep for hours, and awaken either with a headache, or in an irritable and despondent mood. As is well known, the same effect was produced upon Edgar by a moderate indulgence in drink, such as would not affect another man, and this hereditary weakness should go far in accounting for and excusing those excesses of which all the world is unfortunately aware. Of the elder brother of Edgar, William Henry, I have heard scarcely any mention, until after Poe's death, and few seem to know that there was such a person. It seems, however, that in the summer, when Edgar was preparing for the university, this brother came to Richmond, on a visit to himself and Rose. Edgar took him around to introduce his young lady acquaintances, by one of whom he has been described as handsome, gentlemanly, and agreeable. He died a year or two afterward, leaving some poems which show him to have been possessed of unusual poetic talent. Had he lived, he might have rivaled his brother as a poet. CHAPTER VII. The sleeper-vox recording is in the public domain. THE UNREST OF YOUTH. In the summer of 1825, Mr. Allen, having come into possession of a large fortune left him by an uncle, purchased and removed to the Hansenberg residence at the corner of Main and Fifth Streets, built by Mr. Gallego, a wealthy Spanish gentleman, and which became known as the Allen House. To own such a residence had long been the desire of Mrs. Allen, and upon taking possession of the house she furnished it handsomely and commenced entertaining in a style which rendered them conspicuous in Richmond's society. It was even said that they lived extravagantly, and Edgar, with an abundance of pocket-money, became the envy of his companions. But he was not happy. The impatience of restraint of which the Mackenzie spoke, and the dissatisfaction of which was to him, despite its luxuries, an uncongenial home, rendered him discontented. The heart of the boy of fifteen began to pulse with the restlessness of the bird when it feels the first nervous twitchings of its wings, and his great desire now was to get away from home and enjoy greater freedom. He would often, when particularly dissatisfied, speak to the Mackenzie's of going to sea or enlisting in the army. At present, however, he contented himself with requesting Mr. Allen to send him to the university. Mr. Allen did not see the use of a higher education for one whom he destined for a commercial business, but finally yielded. And Edgar left Mr. Burke's school and, under a private tutelage, commenced fitting himself for the university. His period, from June to February 14, 1825, was the only time, with the exception of two brief intervals, that he resided in the Allen House. On another point, however, he did not so easily have his way. He was very anxious that his youthful poems be published in book form, and importuned Mr. Allen to that effect. But this was the thing with which the latter had no sympathy. He did consent to go with the boy, to hear what Mr. Clark's judgment of the verses would be. But finally concluded that Edgar was too young to publish a book, and so the latter's eager and ambitious hopes were, for the time, frustrated. Still, this must have been a pleasant summer for him, in the enjoyment of his new home, with its fine lawn and garden, in place of the cramped cottage on Clay Street, and especially in the knowledge that he was breaking away from his schoolboy days and assuming something of the independence of youth. It was at this time that he made the famous swim of seven miles on James River, from Warwick Point to Richmond, which has been so much commented upon, showing with what fine athletic powers he was gifted. It was on the 14th of February, 1825, that Poe entered the university, inscribing on the matriculation book the date of his birth as January 19, 1809, making him sixteen years of age, when he was really seventeen, born in 1808. This date, it will be observed, agrees with no other that he has given. Of his course at the university, his biographers have informed us, on the authority of professors and students, some of whom credit him with almost every vice of dissipation, while others defend him from such imputation. But when he returned home at the end of the first year, with a brilliant scholastic record, it became known that Mr. Allen had been called upon to pay his gambling and other debts, amounting on the whole to over two thousand dollars. Mr. Allen went on to Charlottesville to investigate the matter, and scrupulously paid all that he considered honest debts, refusing to notice the gambling debts. Poe, having paid a little attention to his personal affairs, was almost as much surprised as was Mr. Allen at the amount of his indebtedness. He appeared truly penitent, and frankly so expressed himself to Mr. Allen, offering to repay the latter by his services in his counting-house. It was agreed that after the Christmas holidays he should take his place in the office as clerk. This was the beginning of the declension of Poe's social and personal reputation. By his elders he was severely condemned, while the good little boys who had formerly looked doubtfully upon the robber of orchards and turnip-patches now passed him by with side-long glances and pursed up lips. And yet, good cause though Mr. Allen had to be angry, as he was, we have the following account of Edgar's reception at home when he returned from the University for the Christmas holidays, a reception for which he was doubtless indebted to his devoted foster-mother. A former schoolmate of his, Charles Bolling, writes to the editor of a Richmond paper that Mr. Allen, when on a visit to the country, having given him a cordial invitation to call on him when in Richmond, he, one evening, near Christmas, went to his house, where he was kindly received. After sitting a while he perceived certain signs as of preparation for the entertainment of company, and at once rose to leave, but his host insisted upon his remaining, saying that Edgar had just come home from the University, and some of his young friends had been invited to meet him. Bolling replied that he was not in a suitable dress for company, when Mr. Allen said, Go up to Edgar's room. He will supply you with one of his own suits. He found Edgar lying on a lounge reading, who welcomed him cordially and, throwing open his wardrobe doors, placed the contents at his disposal. This was a room which, on their removal to their new home, Mrs. Allen had chosen for Edgar's occupation, furnishing it handsomely, with his books and pictures arranged in bookcases and on the wall. He took great pleasure in this apartment, and had always passed much of his time there. When the two youths had attired themselves to their satisfaction they repaired to the drawing-room, where Poe did his duty in welcoming his guests. But after a while he took Bolling aside and proposed that they should go down the street and have a spree of their own. To this the latter very properly objected, saying, Oh no, that would never do. But being urged, finally consented, and they stole away from the company together. This was an assertion of independence which one year previous he would not have ventured upon. But he was now no longer a schoolboy but a university student, and, as he claimed, nearly eighteen years of age. This past year had wrought a great change in him, and he was already in his heart prepared to break away from the restraint and authority which he had found so irksome, and assert his independence. In due time Poe was installed in Mr. Allen's counting-house as clerk, but had occupied that position but a short time when it became intolerable to him. He begged Mr. Allen to give him some other employment, saying that he would rather earn his living in any other way. Mr. Allen, still angry about the university debts, told him that he was his own master and could choose what employment he pleased, but that henceforth he was not to look to him for assistance. After an angry scene between the two, Poe packed his travelling-bag and, leaving the Allen-house, did not return to it for the space of two years. It will be observed that this was no runaway act on Poe's part as asserted by biographers. He took an affectionate leave of Mrs. Allen and Miss Valentine, who supplied him with money, and neither of whom believed but that he would be back in a few weeks. He went to take leave of the Mackenzie's, who, all but his friend Jack, advised him to return and submit himself to Mr. Allen, but this he would not, could not do. He claimed that Mr. Allen had spoken insultingly to him, and declared that he would no longer be dependent on him. And so he went forth, as he said, to seek his fortune. He made his way to Boston, where the first use to which he put his money was in publishing a cheap edition of his poems. They were not of a kind to attract attention, and he never realized a dollar from them. Ambitious to have them known, he sent a number to his friend's enrichment in other places south, and the rest turned over to his publisher, an obscure young man of the name of Thomas, in part payment of the expense of publishing. Then followed a season of wandering in search of employment, until, his money all gone, he had no resource but to enlist in the army, which he did on May 2, 1827. Being then, as he claimed, eighteen, really nineteen years of age, but representing himself as twenty-two. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of The Home Life of Poe by Susan Archer Weiss The sleeper-vox recording is in the public domain. In the year eighteen twenty-nine, 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 in 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 Allen 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, A. Lea's Poe, had proven himself in all respects a model soldier, interest in his case was at once aroused. It was suggested that, with his education in the social position which he had enjoyed, a cadetship at West Point would be more 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. Allen, 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 for Mr. Allen 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. Allen had not known of Edgar's whereabouts. According to Miss Valentine, Poe never at any time ceased entirely to correspond with Mrs. Allen, who never, to her dying day, lost her interest in the boy whom she loved as a son, and neither ceased her endeavours to reconcile himself and her husband, urging Edgar to return and Mr. Allen 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. Allen talked to Poe seriously, and finding that his great desire was to get a discharge from the army promised to assist him, but only upon condition of his entry in West Point, by which there would be secured to him an honourable and independent position for life, and Allen 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, Colonel Allen Magruder, describes him as of a simple and kindly nature, but by reason of his distance and reserve not popular were 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. Allen that he wished to leave West Point, a step to which the latter positively refused his assistance. After 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 May 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 in 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, Captain 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 hot bed 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, catch to him throughout his whole military career, and he acted wisely and 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. CHAPTER VIII. In the meantime Mr. Allen had contracted a second marriage, the Lady Bean of Miss Louisa Patterson of New Jersey. She was thirty years of age, not handsome but of dignified and courteous manners, with large, only marked features, indicative of decision of character, and, as was said, a will of her own. Nevertheless she was amably 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 Po received the news of this marriage, but one thing seemed certain, that strangely enough the idea never occurred to him that it in any way affected his own position in Mr. Allen'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. Allen'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. Allen 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 in the servants' apartments. It had at one time been occupied by Mrs. Allen's maid. On receiving this information, Poe was extremely indignant, and refusing to have his carpet-bag carried to that room, requested to see Mrs. Allen. 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. Allen for mercenary motives. This was enough for the lady. She said 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. Allen 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 Allens, I heard from the Mackenzie's, and Mrs. Julia Mayo Cabell, wife of Poe's schoolboy 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, till it culminated at length in the dark picture with which Griswold horrified the world. It was to this incident that Poe eluded 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. THE CLOSING OF THE GATE When Poe, after leaving Mr. Allen's door, crossed the lawn and passed out of the gate, can anyone 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 guide him. From this moment commences the true history of Edgar A. Poe. On leaving the Allen House Poe went directly to the MacKenzie's, the only place to which he could turn, and spent several days with 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 MacKenzie's 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, Nielsen 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 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 brickyard, when there passed him by a line of men, burying the freshly molded 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 sorus need. CHAPTER XI. Mrs. Clem. His father's sister, Mrs. Maria Clem, 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 pose 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, Po 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. Clem 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 Po as he slowly recovered from his fever dreams, and he again became aware of the strong necessity of further exertion on his part. Mrs. Clem would 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. Po 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 romp with him than of her lessons. She was devoted to her handsome cousin, and having hitherto lived with her mother and with fewer no-playmates or companions, soon learned to depend upon him for all pleasure or amusement. They called each other both then and ever after Buddy and Sissy, while Mrs. Clem was muddy to both. Of this period of Po's life in Baltimore, Dr. Snodgrass, a literary bohemian of the time, has given us glimpses. In Baltimore his chief resort was the Widow Meager's Place, an inexpensive but respectable eating-house, with a bar attached in a room where the customers could indulge in a smoke or a social game of cards. This was frequented chiefly by printers and employees of shipping offices. Po was a great favourite with the Widow Meager, a kindly old Irish woman. On entering there he 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 of Bard, 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 Po to put it in Poa-3. 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 Po, one evening, in his wanderings about the streets, stopped to read a copy of the Evening Visitor, exposed 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 the Visitor, though with little 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 the Visitor and receive the money. It was on this occasion that Po 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 the Evening Visitor, whose editor, Mr. Wilmer, accepted several stories from his pen, and it was now evidently that Po decided upon literature as a profession. Under these favoring conditions Po 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 they would 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 Po, even in his youth, sought the acquaintance of women who attracted his attention. By saying that she had known Po quite intimately when she and her mother were residents of Baltimore, about 1832, she was then 17 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 Po, she said, was once when she was studying her lesson in the window of her room, which was in the rear of the house. Looking up, she saw a very handsome young man standing in 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 riding at his window, and each time that he lay beside a sheet he would look over at her, and at length 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. Allen died in March, 1834, leaving three fine little boys to inherit his fortune. Sometime before his death an absurd story was circulated, which we find related in the Richmond Standard, 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. Allen 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. Allen's door. The rest is told by Ellis is as follows. He was met at the door by Mrs. Allen, 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. Allen 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 Ellis was at this time only a youth of eighteen or twenty, and had no more opportunity of knowing the truth than the numerous acquaintances of the Allen's 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. Allen, and, creating some disturbance, the latter called to the servant to drive that drunken man away. Mr. Ellis should have remembered that Mrs. Allen, to the day of her death, asserted that she had never but once seen Poe. Consequently, the 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. CHAPTER XIII. OF THE HOMELIFE OF POE. by Susan Archer Weiss. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. POE'S DOUBLE MARRIAGE 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 eighteen-thirty-five, he left Baltimore to assume the duties of assistant editor to Mr. White of the Southern 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. Clem was severely criticized, 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 a letter found among Poe's papers after his death, and the reluctant admission of Mrs. Clem that it became known that a previous marriage had taken place. The marriage records of Baltimore show that on September 22nd, eighteen-thirty-five, Edgar A. Poe took out a license to marry Virginia E. Clem. Mrs. Clem, when interviewed by one of Poe's biographers, admitted 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 the Messenger. 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. Clem, having set her heart upon keeping her nephew in the family, could think of no sureer 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 Nielsen 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 correspondents 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. Consol 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 not at all appear that such is the case, for even if Nielsen Poe did make such an offer, Poe knew well enough that neither Mrs. Clem nor her daughter would ever consent to accept it. The whole thing appears to have been simply a plan of Mrs. Clem 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 see here 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 upon the 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. Clem, 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 the 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's 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 soon broken 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 Coming 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 everyone remarked what a handsome couple they were. She had never seen anyone enjoy dancing more than Poe did. Not but that he was very dignified, but you could see in his whole manner an 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. Poe on Bank Street, facing the capital 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. Clem and Virginia, they lived together as formerly. He, as he informed Mr. 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 Reverend Amasa Converse, a noted Presbyterian minister. Late on the evening of May 16th, Mr. Cleland, with Mrs. Clem, Poe, and Virginia, left Mrs. Yarringtons 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. Clem giving her full and free consent. The clergyman remarked afterward that Mrs. Clem 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. Clem invited the lady-borders to her room to partake of wine and cake, when it was discovered that it was a wedding celebration. It will be observed that, according to the marriage bond, Virginia was married under her maiden name of Clem, 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 16th, 1822. Thus is shown how pliable was Poe in the hands of his mother-in-law, and in regards to 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. CHAPTER XIII. 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 Allens, and the later story of his attempt to force himself into Mr. Allens' presence. It is true that the Mackenzie's, the Sullies, 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 of Mrs. Julia Mayo Cabell and Mrs. General Winfield Scott, gave an entertainment to which she invited the talented young editor of the messenger, two of the most priggish of these gentlemen declined to attend, rather than meet their former schoolmate, Edgar Poe. The 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, venom of the criticism for which the messenger began to be noted. Never before had he been accused of unamiability of disposition, but his temper seemed suddenly to have changed, and he was called haughty, overbearing, and quarrelsome. A great and, it is to be feared, irreparable obliquy 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 the messenger, at 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 more perfect 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. McKenzie, 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 various hotels and boarding-houses and spending his money freely instead of, as formerly, committing it to the keeping of his mother-in-law. Mrs. Clem, descending from the dignity of a border, 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 dress-making, letting out rooms and probably taking one or two borders. 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 columniate and women adore. How many could resist the temptation? The Mackenzie spoke of Virginia at this time, now of fourteen years of age, as being small for her age but very plump, pretty, but not 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 Mackenzie's, 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 the abandon of 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. Poe was the cause of Poe's discontent. He never appeared happy or satisfied while enrichment. 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 The Messenger, 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. Clem, 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. CHAPTER XV. 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 there 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. Clem'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. Gowins, a bookseller on the next street, declares that in the eight months of his residence at Mrs. Clem'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 hoary, and her features would defy the genius of a canova to imitate. Poe delighted in her round, childlike face, and plump little figure. CHAPTER XVI. As regards the nature of Poe's affection for his wife, I have often recalled an expression of Mr. John McKenzie when, after the Poe's death, a group of his friends were familiarly discussing his character. John doubted whether Poe had ever really loved his wife, to which Mr. McKenzie 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 robbed in the familiar association of home life and the free intercourse of brother and sister, ought 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. McKenzie remarked, 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. McKenzie that she had never read half of his poems. When writing he would go to Mrs. Clem to explain his ideas or 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 distrange her. Mrs. Clem would sometimes, as in duty bound, take him to task for his irregularities, but no word of reproach ever escaped Virginia. She regarded him with the 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 silt-flight creature of such delicate and ethereal beauty that we 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 child-like and appealing. She was liked by everyone, says Mr. Graham. A decided lisp added to her child-likeness.