As regards the French—get into a French family by all means—read much, write more, & give grammar to the dogs.
You are quizzing me about the autographs. I was afraid to say more than one half of what I really thought of you, lest it should be attributed to personal friendship. Those articles have had a great run—have done wonders for the Journal—but I fear have also done me, personally, much injury. I was weak enough to permit Graham to modify my opinions (or at least their expression) in many of the notices. In the case of Conrad, for example; he insisted upon praise and worried me into speaking well of such ninnies as Holden, Peterson, Spear, &c., &c. I would not have yielded had I thought it made much difference what one said of such puppets as these, but it seems the error has been made to count against my critical impartiality. Know better next time. Let no man accuse me of leniency again.
I do not believe that Ingraham stole “Lafitte.”
No, Benjamin does not write the political papers in the “New World,” but I cannot say who does. I cannot bring myself to like that man, although I wished to do so, and although he made some advances, of late, which you may have seen. He is too thorough-souled a time-server. I would not say again what I said of him in the “Autography.”
Did you read my review of “Barnaby Rudge” in the Feb. No.? You see that I was right throughout in my predictions about the plot. Was it not you who said you believed I would find myself mistaken?
Remember me kindly to Dow. I fear he has given me up; never writes; never sends a paper.
Will you bear in mind what I say about R. Tyler?
God bless you.
EDGAR A. POE.
F. W. Thomas
Significant for its reference to Virginia’s recent pulmonary hemorrhage, this letter reveals both Poe’s discontent with George Graham and his own current fantasy of establishing a quality monthly that would support—and be supported by—the Tyler administration. The president’s son was an aspiring poet whose work Poe reviewed favorably in Graham’s. In a magazine piece, Poe had correctly predicted the outcome of Dickens’s serialized Barnaby Rudge.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO T. H. CHIVERS
Philadelphia Sep. 27, 1842.
My Dear Sir,
Through some accident, I did not receive your letter of the 15th inst: until this morning, and now hasten to reply.
Allow me, in the first place, to thank you sincerely for your kindness in procuring me the subscribers to the Penn Magazine. The four names sent will aid me most materially in this early stage of the proceedings.
As yet I have taken no overt step in the measure, and have not even printed a Prospectus. As soon as I do this I will send you several. I do not wish to announce my positive resumption of the original scheme until about the middle of October. Before that period I have reason to believe that I shall have received an appointment in the Philadelphia Custom House, which will afford me a good salary and leave the greater portion of my time unemployed. With this appointment to fall back upon, as a certain resource, I shall be enabled to start the Magazine without difficulty, provided I can make an arrangement with either a practical printer possessing a small office, or some one not a printer, with about $1000 at command. (over)
It would, of course, be better for the permanent influence and success of the journal that I unite myself with a gentleman of education & similarity of thought and feeling. It was this consciousness which induced me to suggest the enterprise to yourself. I know no one with whom I would more readily enter into association than yourself.
I am not aware what are your political views. My own have reference to no one of the present parties; but it has been hinted to me that I will receive the most effectual patronage from Government, for a journal which will admit occasional papers in support of the Administration. For Mr Tyler personally, & as an honest statesman, I have the highest respect. Of the government patronage, upon the condition specified, I am assured and this alone will more than sustain the Magazine.
The only real difficulty lies in the beginning—in the pecuniary means for getting out the two (or three) first numbers; after this all is sure, and a great triumph may, and indeed will be achieved. If you can command about $1000 and say that you will join me, I will write you fully as respects the details of the plan, or we can have an immediate interview.
It would be proper to start with an edition of 1000 copies. For this number, the monthly expense, including paper (of the finest quality) composition, press-work & stitching will be about 180$. I calculate all expenses at about $250—which is $3000 per annum—a very liberal estimate. 1000 copies at $ 5 = 5000$—leaving a nett profit of 2000$, even supposing we have only 1000 subscribers. But I am sure of beginning with at least 500, and make no doubt of obtaining 5000 before the expiration of the 2d year. A Magazine, such as I propose, with 5000 subscribers will produce us each an income of some $10,000; and this you will acknowledge is a game worth playing. At the same time there is no earthly reason why such a Magazine may not, eventually, reach a circulation as great as that of “Graham’s” at present—viz 50,000.
I repeat that it would give me the most sincere pleasure if you would make up your mind to join me. I am sure of our community of thought & feeling, and that we would accomplish much.
In regard to the poem on Harrison’s death, I regret to say that nothing can be done with the Philadelphia publishers. The truth is that the higher order of poetry is, and always will be, in this country, unsaleable; but, even were it otherwise, the present state of the Copy-Right Laws will not warrant any publisher, in purchasing an American book. The only condition, I am afraid, upon which the poem can be printed, is that you print at your own expense.
I will see Griswold and endeavour to get the smaller poems from him. A precious fellow is he!
Write as soon as you receive this & believe me
Yours most truly
EDGAR A POE
A Georgia physician, poet, and plantation owner who admired Poe, Thomas Holley Chivers was a plausible prospective partner. When he penned this letter, Poe was confident that he would be receiving a government appointment. But the job failed to materialize, and Chivers declined the invitation to bankroll Poe’s magazine. The passing reference to the absence of an international copyright law coincides with Poe’s emerging advocacy of such protection for U.S. authors. The mention of Rufus Griswold, then working for Graham, hints at Poe’s scorn for him.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO FREDERICK W. THOMAS AND JESSE E. DOW
Philadelphia March 16, 1843.
My Dear Thomas, & Dow
I arrived here, in perfect safety, and sober, about half past four last evening—nothing occurring on the road of any consequence. I shaved and breakfasted in Baltimore and lunched on the Susque-hannah, and by the time I got to Phila. felt quite decent. Mrs. Clemm was expecting me at the car-office. I went immediately home, took a warm bath & supper & then went to Clarke’s. I never saw a man in my life more surprised to see another. He thought by Dow’s epistle that I must not only be dead but buried & would as soon have thought of seeing his great-great-great grandmother. He received me, therefore, very cordially & made light of the matter. I told him what had been agreed upon—that I was a little sick & that Dow, knowing I had been, in times passed, given to spreeing upon an extensive scale, had become unduly alarmed &c&c.—that when I found he had written I thought it best to come home. He said my trip had improved me & that he had never seen me looking so well!!!—and I don’t believe I ever did.
This morning I took medicine, and, as it is a snowy day, will avail myself of the excuse to stay at home—so that by to-morrow I shall be really as well as ever.
Virginia’s health is about the same—but her distress of mind has been even more than I had anticipated. She desires her kindest remembrances to both of you—as also does Mrs. C.
Clarke, it appears, wrote to Dow, who must have received the letter this morning. Please re-inclose the letter to me, here—so that I may know how to guide myself.—and,
Thomas, do write immediately as proposed. If possible, enclose a line from Rob. Tyler— but I fear, under the circumstances, it is not so—I blame no one but myself.
The letter which I looked for & which I wished returned, is not on its way—reason, no money forthcoming—Lowell had not yet sent it—he is ill in N. York of opthalmia. Immediately upon receipt of it, or before, I will forward the money you were both so kind as to lend—which is 8 to Dow—and 3 ½ to Thomas—What a confounded business I have got myself into, attempting to write a letter to two people at once!
However—this is for Dow. My dear fellow—Thank you a thousand times for your kindness & great forbearance, and don’t say a word about the cloak turned inside out, or other peccadilloes of that nature. Also, express to your wife my deep regret for the vexation I must have occasioned her. Send me, also, if you can the letter to Blythe. Call also, at the barber’s shop just above Fuller’s and pay for me a levy which I believe I owe. And now God bless you—for a nobler fellow never lived.
And this is for Thomas. My dear friend. Forgive me my petulance & don’t believe I think all I said. Believe me I am very grateful to you for your many attentions & forbearances and the time will never come when I shall forget either them or you. Remember me most kindly to Dr Lacey—also to the Don, whose mustachios I do admire after all, and who has about the finest figure I ever beheld—also to Dr Frailey. Please express my regret to Mr Fuller for making such a fool of myself in his house, and say to him (if you think it necessary) that I should not have got half so drunk on his excellent Port wine but for the rummy coffee with which I was forced to wash it down. I would be glad, too, if you would take an opportunity of saying to Mr Rob. Tyler that if he can look over matters & get me the Inspectorship, I will join the Washingtonians forthwith. I am as serious as a judge—& much so than many. I think it would be a feather in Mr Tyler’s cap to save from the perils of mint julep—& “Port wines”—a young man of whom all the world thinks so well & who thinks so remarkably well of himself.
And now, my dear friends, good bye & believe me
Most Truly Yours.
EDGAR A. POE
Mess Dow & Thomas.
Upon getting here I found numerous letters of subscribers to my Magazine—for which no canvas has yet been made. This was unexpected & cheering. Did you say Dow that Commodore Elliot had desired me to put down his name? Is it so or did I dream it? At all events, when you see him present my respects and thanks. Thomas you will remember that Dr. Lacey wished me to put him down—but I don’t know his first name—please let me have it.
This letter pertains to Poe’s notorious visit to Washington in quest of a government appointment. Thomas was ill and had failed to arrange the desired interview with the president. Upon his arrival Poe began drinking heavily, and here he apologizes to two offended friends while reiterating a rationalization for Dow’s letter to Thomas Clarke, who had recently agreed to publish Poe’s monthly magazine. As a temperance man, Clarke would have been appalled by Poe’s actual escapades, which included wearing his cloak turned inside out, insulting several people (including Mr. and Mrs. Robert Tyler as well as novelist Thomas Dunn English), and walking out of a barber shop without paying.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
Philadelphia March 30, 1844.
My Dear Friend,
Graham has been speaking to me, lately, about your Biography, and I am anxious to write it at once—always provided you have no objection. Could you forward me the materials within a day or two? I am just now quite disengaged—in fact positively idle.
I presume you have read the Memoir of Willis, in the April No: of G. It is written by a Mr Landor—but I think it full of hyperbole. Willis is no genius—a graceful trifler—no more. He wants force & sincerity. He is very frequently far-fetched. In me, at least, he never excites an emotion. Perhaps the best poem he has written, is a little piece called “Unseen Spirits”, beginning “The Shadow lay—Along Broadway”.
You inquire about my own portrait. It has been done for some time—but is better as an engraving, than as a portrait. It scarcely resembles me at all. When it will appear I cannot say. Conrad & Mrs Stephens will certainly come before me—perhaps Gen: Morris. My Life is not yet written, and I am at a sad loss for a Biographer—for Graham insists upon leaving the matter to myself.
I sincerely rejoice to hear of the success of your volume. To sell eleven hundred copies of a bound book of American poetry, is to do wonders. I hope every thing from your future endeavours. Have you read “Orion”? Have you seen the article on “American Poetry” in the “London Foreign Quarterly”? It has been denied that Dickens wrote it—but, to me, the article affords so strong internal evidence of his hand that I would as soon think of doubting my existence. He tells much truth—although he evinces much ignorance and more spleen. Among other points he accuses myself of “metrical imitation” of Tennyson, citing, by way of instance, passages from poems which were written & published by me long before Tennyson was heard of:—but I have, at no time, made any poetical pretension. I am greatly indebted for the trouble you have taken about the Lectures, and shall be very glad to avail myself, next season, of any invitation from the “Boston Lyceum.” Thank you also, for the hint about the North A. Review:—I will bear it in mind. I mail you, herewith, a “Dollar Newspaper,” containing a somewhat extravagant tale of my own. I fear it will prove little to your taste.
How dreadful is the present condition of our Literature! To what are things tending? We want two things, certainly:—an International Copy-Right Law, and a well-founded Monthly Journal, of sufficient ability, circulation, and character, to control and so give tone to, our Letters. It should be, externally, a specimen of high, but not too refined Taste:—I mean, it should be boldly printed, on excellent paper, in single column, and be illustrated, not merely embellished, by spirited wood designs in the style of Grandville. Its chief aims should be Independence, Truth, Originality. It should be a journal of some 120 pp, and furnished at $5. It should have nothing to do with Agents or Agencies. Such a Magazine might be made to exercise a prodigious influence, and would be a source of vast wealth to its proprietors. There can be no reason why 100,000 copies might not, in one or two years, be circulated: but the means of bringing it into circulation should be radically different from those usually employed.
Such a journal might, perhaps, be set on foot by a coalition, and, thus set on foot, with proper understanding, would be irresistible. Suppose, for example, that the élite of our men of letters should combine secretly. Many of them control papers &c. Let each subscribe, say $200, for the commencement of the undertaking; furnishing other means, as required from time to time, until the work be established. The articles to be supplied by the members solely, and upon a concerted plan of action. A nominal editor to be elected from among the number. How could such a journal fail? I would like very much to hear your opinion upon this matter. Could not the “ball be set in motion”? If we do not defend ourselves by some such coalition, we shall be devoured, without mercy, by the Godeys, the Snowdens, et id genus omne.
Most truly your friend
EDGAR A POE
Poe refers to the biographical sketch of Lowell that he had been asked to write (but never did) and observes pointedly that he must find someone to write his own biography for Graham’s (which Lowell eventually did). Poe signals his willingness to speak at the Boston Lyceum—where he created an uproar in 1845—and sounds out Lowell (whose Pioneer was short lived) on the idea of a monthly magazine published by a secret confederation of literary men.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO MARIA CLEMM
New-York, Sunday Morning April 7. [1844] just after breakfast.
My dear Muddy,
We have just this minute done breakfast, and I now sit down to write you about everything. I can’t pay for the letter, because the P.O. won’t be open to-day.—In the first place, we arrived safe at Walnut St wharf. The driver wanted to make me pay a dollar, but I wouldn’t. Then I h
ad to pay a boy a levy to put the trunks in the baggage car. In the meantime I took Sis in the Depot Hotel. It was only a quarter past 6, and we had to wait till 7. We saw the Ledger & Times—nothing in either—a few words of no account in the Chronicle.—We started in good spirits, but did not get here until nearly 3 o’clock. We went in the cars to Amboy about 40 miles from N. York, and then took the steamboat the rest of the way.—Sissy coughed none at all. When we got to the wharf it was raining hard. I left her on board the boat, after putting the trunks in the Ladies’ Cabin, and set off to buy an umbrella and look for a boarding-house. I met a man selling umbrellas and bought one for 62 cents. Then I went up Greenwich St and soon found a boarding-house. It is just before you get to Cedar St on the west side going up—the left hand side. It has brown stone steps, with a porch with brown pillars. “Morrison” is the name on the door. I made a bargain in a few minutes and then got a hack and went for Sis. I was not gone more than ½ an hour, and she was quite astonished to see me back so soon. She didn’t expect me for an hour. There were 2 other ladies waiting on board—so she was’nt very lonely.—When we got to the house we had to wait about ½ an hour before the room was ready. The house is old & looks buggy, [missing words] The landlady is a nice chatty old [missing words] gave us the back room on the [missing words] night & day & attendance, for 7 $—[missing words] the cheapest board I ever knew, taking into consideration the central situation and the living. I wish Kate could see it—she would faint. Last night, for supper, we had the nicest tea you ever drank, strong & hot—wheat bread & rye bread—cheese—tea-cakes (elegant) a great dish (2 dishes) of elegant ham, and 2 of cold veal piled up like a mountain and large slices—3 dishes of the cakes, and every thing in the greatest profusion. No fear of starving here. The landlady seemed as if she could’nt press us enough, and we were at home directly. Her husband is living with her—a fat good-natured old soul. There are 8 or 10 boarders—2 or 3 of them ladies—2 servants.—For breakfast we had excellent-flavored coffee, hot & strong—not very clear & no great deal of cream—veal cutlets, elegant ham & eggs & nice bread and butter. I never sat down to a more plentiful or a nicer breakfast. I wish you could have seen the eggs—and the great dishes of meat. I ate the first hearty breakfast I have eaten since I left our little home. Sis is delighted, and we are both in excellent spirits. She has coughed hardly any and had no night sweat. She is now busy mending my pants which I tore against a nail. I went out last night and bought a skein of silk, a skein of thread, & 2 buttons, a pair of slippers & a tin pan for the stove. The fire kept in all night.—We have now got 4 $ and a half left. Tomorrow I am going to try & borrow 3 $—so that I may have a fortnight to go upon. I feel in excellent spirits & have’nt drank a drop—so that I hope so on to get out of trouble. The very instant I scrape together enough money I will send it on. You ca’nt imagine how much we both do miss you. Sissy had a hearty cry last night, because you and Catterina weren’t here. We are resolved to get 2 rooms the first moment we can. In the meantime it is impossible we could be more comfortable or more at home than we are.—It looks as if it was going to clear up now.—Be sure and go to the P.O. & have my letters forwarded. As soon as I write Lowell’s article, I will send it to you, & get you to get the money from Graham. Give our best loves to Catterina.
The Portable Edgar Allan Poe Page 55
