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New Version of an Old Story.
An anonymous writer in the last number of the Library Table, has recommence hostilities against Poe and his recent biographers, by a vigorous defence of the veracity of Dr. Griswold. He intimates that he has great things in reserve for the confusion of Messrs. Ingram, Didier and Gill. He has now nuts to crack, “now solutions of old problems’‘ to present, “boulders of fact, still verifiable,” soon to be rolled out to crush the credulous young champions, who rashly undertake to confute Griswold.
This chivalrous knight of the Table assures us that “gentlemen of well informed literary circles” have found, on careful analysis, that no material difference exists between Griswold and his critics, as to what is called “the mysterious Providence episode.” He is confident that he can produce evidence that Poe disclaimed in the presence of literary friends, any personal interest in the projected marriage, “even at the moment of receiving their congratulations on the betterment of his condition.” This was certainly very reprehensible, yet other men who have sought to marry for money have been forgiven; and might even have been forgiven for parrying by an affected indifference the congratulations of “literary friends,” upon a “betterment” so purely hypothetical.
Whether Poe loved the lady whose love for him is unquestioned, may be a point for these Knights of the Round Table to decide. But there are worse things than these involved in the “Providence episode” that are now laid to his charge, and it is to speak of these that I have been induced to notice these stabs in the dark, which are being aimed at all who have undertaken on his defence.
The most formidable “boulder” which this gallant knight proposes to hurl from behind his masked butteries is a libelious story associated with the name of a literary lady of New York, Mrs. E. F. Ellet, whose recent death has left a clear field for the revival of a scandal not less injurious to the lady than to the poet whose reputation it was intended to destroy. During the lady's lifetime, it was never openly associated with her name. In Dr. Griswold's memoir, she is spoken of as “a distinguished literary lady of South Carolina, from whom Poe borrowed fifty dollars, promising to return it in a low days, and when fulling to do so, he was asked for a written acknowledgement of the debt that might be exhibited to the husband of the friend who had thus served him, he denied all knowledge of it, and threatened to exhibit a correspondence that would make her infamous if she said more on the subject.”
The anonymous writer of the Library Table gives an improved version of the story, and the discretion and ingenuity with which he introduces the name of Mrs. Ellet is noteworthy and amusing:
“What, for example,” he nays, “shall be our opinion of a man who menaces a lady who has been weak enough to write some sentimental letters to him, with a reference of the letters to her husband, unless she submits to the levy of a loan required by his necessities? The late Mrs. Ellet, one of the kindest and most considerate of women, always maintained that Poe neglected his wife sadly during her later years, and that his sentimental liaisons were one cause of her early death.”
A few words may serve to place this infamous story in its true light.
Mrs. Ellet having chanced to see, or to have been shown, at the home of the poet during his absence, a note addressed to him by Mrs. Osgood, (who made no secret of her correspondence with him), took that lady to task for her indiscretion, and prevailed upon her to consent that a domain! should be made for the return of her letters. Margaret Fuller was one of the two ladies to whom this embassy was entrusted; from the other I received this account, which she would, I doubt not, confirm to the letter were I at liberty to use her name. Irritated by what he regarded as an unwarrantable interference on the part of Mrs. Eliot, Poe indignantly replied to the demand by saying that “Mrs. Ellet had better look to her own letters” — only this and nothing more. In the autumn of 1848, I received from Mr. Poe a letter in confirmation of the facts I have stated, (treat scandals and bitter feuds had arison in cmiseqttoneo of them.
In justice to the poet who has suffered so much from jealous friends and relentless enemies, I quote it low of the burning words wrung from him by a sense of intolerable wrong:
“When in the heat of passion, stung to madness by a sense of the injury indicted upon all of us — upon both families — I permitted myself to say what I should not have said, I had no sooner uttered the words than I felt their dishonor. Terrified lest I should again in a moment of madness be similarly tempted, I immediately, when these ladies were gone, made a package of the letters, addressed them to Mrs. Ellet and with my own hands left them at her door.”
There is a hiatus here in the story which I will not attempt to supply. Snared in the toils into which his own rash words and his swiftly returning sense of honor had betrayed him, the poet had left himself no defence against the world's cruel suspicions and ignoble judgments. Mrs. Ellet is known to have been generous and kind-hearted. It is not impossible that money may have been advanced by her to Mrs. Clemm of which Poe knew nothing; and which, if demanded of him, he had no power to repay; but I am not aware that any charge of his financial indebtedness to the lady was included in the original story.
I have recently seen a letter from a gentleman who stands in the front rank of England's living poets. He says: “This story has done Poe more injury than anything else in Griswold's mendacious narrative. Is there no one who can disprove it?”
The anonymous author of the improved version — just published in the Library Table — the chivalrous knight who is about to crush all Poe's friends and admirers with “boulders of still verifiable facts,” may after all be only a soldier of fortune, writing and fighting without “personal interest.” In the matter on the side which can best minister to “the betterment of his condition.”
By the light of such facts as I am enabled to present, the threatened boulder may apparently be classed as a conglomerate — a medley of flint and sandstone, having no integral consistency, and held together only by successive incrustations of marl and mud.
I do not hold the gentlemanly editors of the Library Table in any way responsible for the aggressive spirit of this pungent little missive, which is freely circulating through the columns of the press, and I trust that their courtesy will accord to me a republication of the above in their valuable weekly Review
S. H. W.
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Notes:
None.
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[S:0 - PDJ, 1877] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - A Poe Bookshelf - New Versions of an Old Story (S. H. Whitman, 1877)