The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Edgar Allan Poe [1323]
eloped. 5 (6) — The “common friend” referred to is Mrs Frances S. Osgood, the poetess. — 6 — I agree with you only in part as regards Miss Fuller. She has some general but no particular critical powers. She belongs to a school of criticism — the Gothean, esthetic, eulogistic. The creed of this school is that, in criticizing an author you must imitate him, ape him, out-Herod Herod. She is grossly dishonest. She abuses Lowell, for example, (the best of our poets, perhaps) on account of a personal quarrel with him. She has omitted all mention of me for the same reason — although, a short time before the issue of her book, she praised me highly in the Tribune. I enclose you her criticism that you may judge for yourself. She praised “Witchcraft” because Mathews (who toadies her) wrote it. In a word, she is an ill-tempered and very inconsistent old maid — avoid her. 7 — Nothing was omitted in “Marie Roget” but what I omitted myself: — all that is mystification. The story was originally published in Snowden’s “Lady’s Companion”. The “naval officer” who committed the murder (or rather the accidental death arising from an attempt at abortion) confessed it; and the whole matter is now well understood — but, for the sake of relatives, his is a topic on which I must not speak further. 8 —”The Gold Bug” was originally sent to Graham, but he not liking it, I got him to take some critical papers instead, and sent [i]t to The Dollar Newspaper which had offered $100 for the best story. It obtained the premi[u]m and made a great noise. 9 — The “necessities” were pecuniary ones. I referred to a [s]neer at my poverty on the part of the Mirror. 10 — You say —”Can you hint to me what was the terrible evil” which caused the irregularities so profoundly lamented?” Yes; I can do more than hint. This “evil” was the greatest which can befall a man. Six years ago, a wife, whom I loved as no man ever loved before, ruptured a blood-vessel in singing. Her life was despaired of. I took leave of her forever & underwent all the agonies of her death. She recovered partially and I again hoped. At the end of a year the vessel broke again — I went through precisely the same scene. Again in about a year afterward. Then again — again — again & even once again at varying intervals. Each time I felt all the agonies of her death — and at each accession of the disorder I loved her more dearly & clung to her life with more desperate pertinacity. But I am constitutionally sensitive — nervous in a very unusual degree. I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. During these fits of absolute unconsciousness I drank, God only knows how often or how much. As a matter of course, my enemies referred the insanity to the drink rather than the drink to the insanity. I had indeed, nearly abandoned all hope of a permanent cure when I found one in the death of my wife. This I can & do endure as becomes a man — it was the horrible never-ending oscillation between hope & despair which I could not longer have endured without the total loss of reason. In the death of what was my life, then, I receive a new but — oh God! how melancholy an existence.
And now, having replied to all your queries let me refer to The Stylus. I am resolved to be my own publisher. To be controlled is to be ruined. My ambition is great. If I succeed, I put myself (within 2 years) in possession of a fortune & infinitely more. My plan is to go through the South & West & endeavor to interest my friends so as to commence with a list of at least 500 subscribers. With this list I can take the matter into my own hands. There are some few of my friends who have sufficient confidence in me to advance their subscriptions — but at all events succeed I will. Can you or will you help me? I have room to say no more.
Truly Yours — E A Poe.
Please re-enclose the printed slips when you have done with them. Have you seen the article on “The American Library” in the November No. of Blackwood, and if so, what do you think of it? E. A. Poe.
George W. Eveleth to Edgar Allan Poe — January 11, 1848
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