This is really several minor topics as it covers influences of music and the arts on Poe's works and the use or influence of his works on music and art. In 1844, Poe wrote to J. R. Lowell that he was " . . . profoundly excited by music . . ." ("[Poe to Lowell, July 2, 1844]," Ostrom, Letters, p. 257). It is reasonable that Poe, living in such a cultural center as New York, would have heard performances of music by Beethoven and Shubert, perhaps even Chopin, Mendelssohn and Johann Strauss (the father of that esteemed family, justifiably known as the Waltz King). The works of Johann Sebastian Bach, neglected since his death in 1750, began to enjoy a revival in 1829. Such speculations, however reasonable, cannot be confirmed. Only a few are mentioned by name. A minor reference to Mozart appears in Poe's "Marginalia" series, in which Poe mentions a well-known anecdote: "Mozart declared, on his death-bed, that he 'began to see what may be done in music;' and it is to be hoped that De Meyer and the rest of the spasmodists will, eventually, begin to understand what may not be done in this particular branch of the Fine Arts" (Southern Literary Messenger, July 1849). As B. R. Pollin notes, De Meyer was a professional pianist, known for his violent style of playing (Burton R. Pollin, ed, The Collected Writings of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 2: The Brevities, New York: Goridan Press, 1985, p. 403b). The significant detail, at least, is that Poe clearly took an active interest in performances of music. An 1844 essay on "The Swiss Bell-Ringers" includes a reference that they play ". . . with a delicate harmony and precision, which are as perfect in a symphony of Haydn as in 'Miss Lucy Long'" (New York Evening Mirror, October 10, 1844, reprinted in Mabbott, Tales and Sketches, p. 1119). In Poe's story "The Fall of the House of Usher," Roderick Usher plays "improvised dirges," one being "a certain singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber." (Although this waltz was attributed to Karl Maria Von Weber during Poe's lifetime, it was later discovered to be by Karl Gottlieb Reissiger. See Mabbott, Tales and Sketches, p. 418n9 and Pollin, Discoveries in Poe, pp. 85-86.) Wagenknect makes, but does not attribute, the claim that Poe ". . . sang and played the flute, and after his marriage encouraged and perhaps guided Virginia's music-making" (Edward Wagenknecht, Edgar Allan Poe: The Man Behind the Legend, p. 111).

Phrenology is the study of the shape of the human head and its influences on personality, morality and intellect. Although appropriately dismissed today as nonsense, in Poe's day many considered it a valid science. Poe's broad forehead was said to demonstrate his great intellect, a comment that no doubt influenced Poe's early interest in the subject. In 1841, Poe wrote to his friend F. W. Thomas, ". . . Speaking of heads -- my own has been exhamined by several phrenologists -- all of whom spoke of me in a species of extravaganza which I should be ashamed to repeat" (["Poe to Thomas, October 27, 1841]," Ostrom, Letters, p. 185.) As Mabbott notes (Mabbott, Tales and Sketches, p. 1226-1227n2),  Poe ". . . came to distrust its [phrenology's] validy. He removed an alusion to it from 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue,' and another from 'The Black Cat.'" His references in "The Imp of the Perverse" seem to suggest ridicule as does his first installment of the "Marginalia" series: "Mr. Dickens' head must puzzle the phrenologists. The organs of ideality are small; and the conclusion of the 'Curiosity-Shop' is more truly ideal ) in both phrenological senses) than any composition of equal length in the English language" (United States Magazine and Democratic Review, November 1844).

Poe was generally interested in the idea of secret codes and exceedingly proud of his ability to translate them. His review of Walsh's Sketches of Conspicous Living Characters of France includes the passing reference: "The difficulty of decyphering may well be supposed much greater had the key been in a foreign tongue; yet any one who will take the truble may address us a note in the same manner as here proposed, and the key-phrase may be in either French, Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, or Greek (or in any of the dialects of these languages), and we pledge ourselves for the solution of the riddle. The experiment may afford our readers some amusement -- let them try it" (Graham's Magazine, April 1841). Responses to this challenge resulted in two subsequent essays, specifically on the topic of secret writings and their decipherment.

The temptation to seek through Poe's works for signs of his personality and mental processes is apparently irresistible. Certainly a large number of Poe scholars and devotees have failed to resist it. Many, indeed, clearly reveled in it to a degree which encourages one to question the sanity of these self-same researchers. For some time discredited (along with many of Freud's theories), the French school of literary criticism reawakened the approach, which still reigns strongly among a handful of scholars. It seems curious that these same scholars, who would be unlikely to confuse William Shakespeare for Richard III (Richard III) or Charles Dickens for Fagin (Oliver Twist), foolishly insist on mistaking Poe for Roderick Usher ("The Fall of the House of Usher") or any number of his anonymous narrators. Given the opportunity, Poe would perhaps say of his psychoanalysts what his character C. Auguste Dupin said in "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" of the French detective Vidocq: "He impaired his vision by holding the object too close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of the matter as a whole."

In the New York Evening Mirror (January 14, 1845), Poe launched the first of what would be a series of seven articles denouncing the well-known poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow as a plagiarist. Longfellow, who prided himself on never responding to even his harshest critics, remained silent on the matter. According to N. P. Willis, Poe made the attack in part because he felt that "Longfellow is asleep on velvet; it will do him good to rouse him. His friends will come out and fight his battle" (Mabbott, "Annals," Poems, 1969, p. 557). Indeed, a defender for Longfellow did appear, an anonymous writer who signed his letters only as "Outis," meaning "nobody." After the one article in the Evening Mirror, Poe continued his attacks on Longfellow in The Broadway Journal, with one final volley in the pages of the Aristidean (April 1845). Almost immediately, Poe labeled the exchange "The Little Longfellow War," a sufficiently light title that suggests Poe's attack was made without any malice or true hostility. A great deal of speculation has centered around the identity of Outis, with several scholars asserting that he was none other than Poe himself. Given Poe's fondness for playing hoaxes, the possibility has an undeniably tantalizing appeal although it cannot be proven with any certainty. The great Poe scholar T. O. Mabbott stated only "That Poe himself wrote the defense of Longfellow . . . is not certain; I incline to believe so" (Mabbott, "Annals," Poems, 1969, p. 557 n5). Burton Pollin agrees strongly with Mabbott, but others have taken differing positions. The controversy continues to this day and will probably go on for many years unless some definitive evidence is discovered.