Text: Susan Archer Talley Weiss, “Edgar A. Poe,” Richmond Republican (Richmond, VA), vol. 7, no. 92, October 15, 1849, p. 2, cols. 2-3

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The recent death of Edgar A. Poe has already called forth numerous notices from the press. Among these we regret to observe several that, purporting to give an account of the poet's character, have, either from ignorance or prejudice against him, represented it in so unjust and distorted a view as to be almost unrecognizable to those who best knew him. Passing over his redeeming qualities and magnifying his errors, they have presented the picture of a morose misanthropic being, half cynic, half madmad, with a moral deformity at once pitiable and revolting. It is difficult to realize the existence of such a character, save in the pages of romance, and altogether impossible for those who knew Mr. Poe to consider it is as applicable to him.

We do not purpose to deny Mr. Poe's faults, but would ask simply, if, in regarding these, the extenuating circumstances are also considered? Were these duly weighed, we feel no hesitation in saying that here, as in every nine cases in ten with regard to genius, his errors would be found to be the result, not so much of inherent evil, as of adverse influences acting upon a nature the extreme susceptibility or which rendered him peculiarly liable to them. We should consider some of the circumstances of his childhood and early youth, when impressions are all important; his want of the redeeming influence of family ties and a mother's love and care, which no degree of kindness in others can entirely supply; his being early and constantly exposed to dissolute companionship, generally at a distance from those kind friends whose influence might have counteracted theirs — and his being thus left so entirely to the guidance of a more than usually hasty, impulsive and passionate nature. Even his early situation as a mere dependant on the bounty of one upon whom he had no legal claim, with the consciousness or suspicion that he was regarded as usurping the rights of other, must have been peculiarly galling to his proud and sensitive spirit. Though treated with unvarying kindness and affection by his patron, every slight from others was by him construed into an insult, every reproof into a presuming upon his dependant situation. Thus rendering him suspicious and irritable, and jealous of his own dignity and freedom of will and action. The morbid sensibility which led him to regard things in so unfortunate a light, is certainly more to be pitied than condemned. It is one of the weaknesses of men of genius. As it was, the very sense of dependence was a burthen to him, as it is in a more or less degree to every youth of a high and independent spirit, and we can scarcely wonder that he should escape from it, though at the sacrifice of all personal advantage. The world, ever prone to regard pecuniary advantage as the first object, could not comprehend the motive of such an act, and he was charged with folly and ingratitude. He felt that he was harshly judged, unjustly treated — but one peculiarity of Mr. Poe's character was, that where his motives were not understood or appreciated, he would never attempt to render them evident. Pride, and a certain disdain of the narrow judging opinions and principles of society, withheld him. The good was ever confined to his own heart, or revealed but to the few of whose sympathy he was confident, and thus he was not generally appreciated as he deserved.

Mr. Poe was a man of genius — a poet — and the defects of such are peculiarly conspicuous, being rendered still darker in appearance from contrast with their other brilliant qualities. Beside which, Mr. Poe's genius was of so daring and original a character as to meet with even less appreciation and sympathy than is generally awarded by the mass; for it is in a degree true that” nothing is wholly popular but what is also wholly common.” He felt that he stood alone in the world — unknown and uncared for; in ill-health and poverty, struggling with almost insuperable difficulties, with few indeed to encourage him, fewer still to stretch forth a friendly helping hand. It is melancholy to contemplate a young and ardent genius in such a situation, though such has been its usual fare in all ages, and it produced upon him the usual effect. His difficulties depressed and discouraged, the coldness of his fellow-men chilled and embittered him, until at length with a reckless disregard of all consequences he yielded to the temptations surrounding him, and became in many respects what otherwise he might not have been.

But in this Mr. Poe was not acting according to the impulse of his own nature, but rather with a reckless disregard of it. With naturally good impulses, he was morally weak; he had not the resolution^ the [column 3:] energy to resist the force of the current which was bearing him astray. He ever felt the impulse and desire of good within him, even while yielding to evil, and it was to him a source of constant anguish 8nd remorse. It rendered him discontented and miserable. In his own words, spoken only a short time before his death, he “felt as if his good angel had been grieved away, and a demon usurped its place.” Yet ever while obeying this demon, the voice of the sorrowing angel would steal low and mournfully into his soul, and good impulses would return and good resolves be formed; only alas, to be too soon overcome. At such moments he would weep as a child over his lost inheritance — his bartered birth-right; but never to the world were these more sacred feelings revealed.

With regard to Mr. Poe's real disposition, the writer can, from personal knowledge, speak confidently. His nature was more than usually warm and affectionate; his sympathy when appealed to, freely given; indeed he seemed ever to feel more kindly than be was willing to express. If quick to resent an injury, no one was ever more easily won by kindness, and his gratitude to those who had rendered him a friendly service was warm and earnest. It was touching to observe how his eye would brighten, his whole countenance cheer at the least display of friendly feeling, and it seemed one of his greatest pleasures to do any thing in his power for those whom he considered as his friends. These were generally of the literary class, and hence his critiques are so frequently noticable [[noticeable]] for their want of strict impartiality. His appearance was strikingly interesting. The high pale brow, shaded by raven curls, — his large and expressive eyes, sad and dreamy in repose, but strangely luminous when excited, could not fail to impress every one. His manners were those of a perfect gentleman, and though in general distant and somewhat haughty, from a consciousness of the unfavorable estimation in which he was held — to his friends, gentle and cordial. In social intercourse with these be seemed to take particular pleasure, and was at such times cheerful and unreserved, often indeed playful and humorous. His soul seemed ever craving sympathy and affection and had he met with these as he desired, his better nature would have assumed supremacy, expanding like a flower in the genial warmth of a sunny atmosphere. As it was, it was chilled, blighted, blackened by untimely frosts. His faults we must consider as weaknesses rather than vices; the result not of an evil nature, but of evil influences. His trials, struggles and temptations we may never fully know or estimate. His spirit was sorely oppressed and wearied in life — peace to his ashes!