Terror of the Soul

The “Ultima Thule” daguerreotype of Edgar Allan Poe, 1848.

My tuxedo cat Poe is named for the master of the macabre so I had to check out the Morgan Library’s exhibit “Edgar Allan Poe: Terror of the Soul.” With items from the Morgan’s own collection, the Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature at The New York Public Library, and the personal collection of Susan Jaffe Tane, the exhibit looks at Poe's work as poet, short story writer, and critic and the influence he had on subsequent artists.

In a gallery fittingly painted blood red there are a variety of Poe’s publications including three copies of his first published work, Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827), one of the rarest books in American literature (only 12 of the 50 published copies are known to still exist) and the first printing of The Raven in The New York Evening Mirror, which brought Poe fame in 1845. Among the manuscripts is one of only three existing pages of The Lighthouse, which was unfinished at the time of Poe’s death, and The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether (1844), which was taped together to form one paper roll, bringing to mind Jack Kerouac’s On the Road manuscript. There is also a large collection of Poe’s criticism, which was the main form of income for him throughout his life.

The most interesting items though are his letters. There are practical letters written to editors with requested corrections to a manuscript and ones to friends in which he promises to do better, in particular to stop drinking. Responding to an aspiring poet seeking advice, Poe wrote, “"Be bold—read much—publish little—keep aloof from the little wits and fear nothing." One of the most touching is to a woman with whom he was romantically attached toward the end of his life, Annie L. Richmond. To her he writes, “I must send a few words to let you see and feel that your Eddy, even when silent, keeps you always in his mind and heart.” Letters like these help to make Poe seem more human.

Letter to John Augustus Shea requesting a correction to The Raven, February 3, 1845.

I have to insert here how shocked I was at how beautiful Poe’s handwriting was. Neat and precise, sometimes impossibly small, it was lovely to look at. And it wasn’t just the letters; there are poems and stories that he copied out perfectly without a single mistake or cross out.

The final part of the exhibit is devoted to writers who have acknowledged their debt to or admiration for Poe, from Oscar Wilde to W.H. Auden to Stéphane Mallarmé (the French recognized Poe’s importance early on). Even cantankerous George Bernard Shaw waxed "Poe constantly and inevitably produced magic where his greatest contemporaries produced only beauty."

Images of the author are found throughout the gallery from the famed “Ultima Thule” daguerreotype, taken four days after he attempted suicide by overdosing on laudanum in 1848 to the modern painting done by Michael J. Deas for a US postal stamp in 2009. In all of the depictions there are those familiar haunted dark eyes and broad forehead. Poe may have been difficult to be friends with and certainly a lot of his troubles were of his own making, but it’s hard not to find some sympathy for the artist whose life was filled with tragedy and ended in Baltimore in 1849 at the age of 40.

Yet the exhibit wouldn't be complete without at least one nod to Poe's gory reputation. In a glass case is a piece of Poe’s original coffin (he was dug up and reinterred in 1875). A touch of the lurid lest we forgot who we're talking about.

The exhibit is at the Morgan Library through January 26, 2014. For more information visit here.

Mystery

Thinking of Edgar Allan Poe earlier reminded me of another favourite of the macabre—Edward Gorey. Here's the intro that he and Derek Lamb created for Mystery (it's a shame you now only see an abbreviated version). I always thought it would make a great video for Elvis Costello's "Watching the Detectives." Anyways, enjoy!

Happy Birthday Edgar Allan Poe!

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849). Photo: William S. Hartshorn.

Happy Birthday Edgar Allan Poe! Born on January 19, 1809 in Boston, Poe’s short life was filled with hardship and tragedy yet he became one of the most famous and influential writers in American literature. The master of the macabre wrote dozens of short stories and poems (The Cask of Amontillado, The Fall of the House of Usher, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Tell-Tale Heart, The Raven) and is credited with writing the first detective story (The Murders in the Rue Morgue in 1841). Today fans will gather at his grave in Baltimore to recite his work and no doubt make a toast or two in his honour.

While I enjoy his writing, Poe is important to me for another reason—I named my tuxedo cat after him and therefore spend time every day calling out his name. 

Today many of Poe's former homes have been restored and turned into museums; I've been to his final New York home in the Bronx (see post here). Sadly, the Boston house in which he was born was torn down in the 1960s and the only tribute to the man is a plaque on a building near the original site.If you're a Poe fan, you might want to check out the efforts of the Edgar Allan Poe Foundation of Boston to have a statue erected in his honour. They are currently selling a limited edition Edgar Allan Poe bobblehead to help raise funds for the project. To find out more about the foundation, visit their site here or visit their facebook page for info on purchasing a bobblehead. 

Poe Cottage

This weekend the Historic House Trust of New York City held their annual Historical House Festival. I have long wanted to visit one of their properties, the Edgar Allan Poe Cottage, so I headed up to the Bronx to finally take a look.

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849). Photo: William S. Hartshorn.

Edgar Allan Poe was a well-known author living in New York City in 1846 when he decided to move his sickly wife, Virginia, and mother-in-law out of New York City to the countryside in hopes of improving Virginia’s health (she was dying from tuberculosis). The countryside turned out to be Fordham Village in Westchester County, which is now part of the Bronx. For $100 a year, Poe rented a small, sparsely furnished white cottage whose layout consisted of a sitting room, small bedroom, and kitchen on the first floor and another bedroom and study on the second floor.  A large fireplace in the sitting room helped to heat the first floor. There Poe wrote “Annabel Lee” and “The Cask of Amontillado,” among other works. He also spent his time gardening and visiting the faculty at the nearby St. John’s College (now Fordham University). Unfortunately, Virginia died on January 30, 1847. Poe stayed on at the cottage but two years later died under mysterious circumstances while in Baltimore on October 7, 1849.

Today, the Poe Cottage is the only remaining building from the original Fordham Village. Owned by the City of New York and managed by the Bronx County Historical Society, it was moved across the street in 1913 to a small park named “Poe Park.” At first glance, the cottage appears out of place, set in the middle of a busy section of the Bronx with city buses buzzing by and a subway station across the street. But once inside, you get a glimpse of a simpler time.

Recently restored, the cottage is filled with period-appropriate furnishings, including the actual bed that Virginia died in and Poe’s rocking chair. A gold-framed mirror in the sitting room belonged to the couple as well. On display is an interesting desk (not Poe's) whose top detaches from the base to become a travelling desk. There is a bust of Poe in the corner and prints of the cottage from various times on the walls. Even with the noise outside, you could imagine the tortured writer bent over his papers while his beloved Virginia coughed in the other room.

Back outside, I took some photos of the exterior of the cottage and was about to leave when I spotted a black squirrel behind the cottage (above)—what an appropriate sighting at the home of a writer of the macabre.

For more information about the cottage, visit here.

Photos except where noted by Michele.