Do you ever see the “Pittsburg Examiner” (a New Monthly)? I wrote a Review of “Tortesa,” at some length in the July No. In the October number of the “Gentleman’s Magazine” I will have “William Wilson” from “The Gift” for 1840. This Tale I think you will like—it is perhaps the best—although not the last—I have done. During the autumn I will publish all in 2 vols—and now I have done with my egoism.
It makes me laugh to hear you speaking about “romantic young persons” as of a race with whom, for the future, you have nothing to do. You need not attempt to shake off or to banter off Romance. It is an evil you will never get rid of to the end of your days. It is a part of yourself—a portion of your soul. Age will only mellow it a little, and give it a holier tone. I will give your contributions a hearty welcome, and the choicest position in the magazine.
Sincerely Yours
EDGAR A. POE.
This letter is notable mainly for its discussion of “Ligeia” and for the inception of Poe’s idea to found a magazine. There is no evidence that Poe ever corresponded with the British author Benjamin D’Israeli, who was (according to Lambert Wilmer) Poe’s early model as a writer.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO WILLIAM E. BURTON
[June 1, 1840.]
Sir:
I find myself at leisure this Monday morning, June 1, to notice your very singular letter of Saturday. & you shall now hear what I have to say. In the first place—your attempts to bully me excite in my mind scarcely any other sentiment than mirth. When you address me again preserve if you can, the dignity of a gentleman. If by accident you have taken it into your head that I am to be insulted with impunity I can only assume that you are an ass. This one point being distinctly understood I shall feel myself more at liberty to be explicit. As for the rest, you do me gross injustice; and you know it. As usual you have wrought yourself into a passion with me on account of some imaginary wrong; for no real injury, or attempt at injury, have you ever received at my hands. As I live, I am utterly unable to say why you are angry, or what true grounds of complaint you have against me. You are a man of impulses; have made yourself, in consequence, some enemies; have been in many respects ill treated by those whom you had looked upon as friends—and these things have rendered you suspicious. You once wrote in your magazine a sharp critique upon a book of mine—a very silly book—Pym. Had I written a similar criticism upon a book of yours, you feel that you would have been my enemy for life, and you therefore imagine in my bosom a latent hostility towards yourself. This has been a mainspring in your whole conduct towards me since our first acquaintance. It has acted to prevent all cordiality. In a general view of human nature your idea is just—but you will find yourself puzzled in judging me by ordinary motives. Your criticism was essentially correct and therefore, although severe, it did not occasion in me one solitary emotion either of anger or dislike. But even while I write these words, I am sure you will not believe them. Did I not still think you, in spite of the exceeding littleness of some of your hurried actions, a man of many honorable impulses, I should not now take the trouble to send you this letter. I cannot permit myself to suppose that you would say to me in cool blood what you said in your letter of yesterday. . . .
Upon the whole I am not willing to admit that you have greatly overpaid me. That I did not do 4 times as much as I did for the Magazine, was your own fault. At first I wrote long articles which you deemed inadmissable, & never did I suggest any to which you had not some immediate and decided objection. Of course I grew discouraged & could feel no interest in the Journal. I am at a loss to know why you call me selfish. If you mean that I borrowed money of you—you know that you offered it—and you know that I am poor. In what instance has anyone ever found me selfish? Was there selfishness in the affront I offered Benjamin (whom I respect, and who spoke well of me) because I deemed it a duty not to receive from any one commendation at your expense? I had no hesitation in making him my enemy (which he now must be) through a sense of my obligations as your coadjutor. I have said that I could not tell why you were angry. Place yourself in my situation & see whether you would not have acted as I have done. You first “enforced”, as you say, a deduction of salary: giving me to understand thereby that you thought of parting company—You next spoke disrespectfully of me behind my back—this as an habitual thing—to those whom you supposed your friends, and who punctually retailed me, as a matter of course, every ill-natured word which you uttered. Lastly you advertised your magazine for sale without saying a word to me about it. I felt no anger at what you did—none in the world. Had I not firmly believed it your design to give up your Journal, with a view of attending to the Theatre, I should never have dreamed of attempting one of my own. The opportunity of doing something for myself seemed a good one—(I was about to be thrown out of business)—and I embraced it. Now I ask you as a man of honor and as a man of sense—what is there wrong in all this? What have I done at which you have any right to take offense? I can give you no definitive answer (respecting the continuation of Rodman’s Journal,) until I hear from you again. The charge of 100 $ I shall not admit for an instant. If you persist in it our intercourse is at an end, and We can each adopt our own measures
In the meantime, I am
Yr Obt St.
EDGAR A POE
Wm E. Burton Esqr.
Poe’s angry retort to Burton, who had dismissed him, includes a lengthy passage (deleted here) refuting Burton’s accusation that Poe owed him $100. Poe added up his monthly contributions to the magazine and concluded that he owed only $60. Burton had reviewed Pym and called it “a very silly book,” a criticism Poe here seems to accept. But because Poe genuinely believed that Burton (then building a theater) planned to sell the Gentleman’s Magazine, he took umbrage at the accusation of disloyalty sparked by Poe’s printing of a prospectus for The Penn.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO JOSEPH EVANS SNODGRASS
Philadelphia, April 1, 1841.
My Dear Snodgrass—
I fear you have been thinking it was not my design to answer your kind letter at all. It is now April Fool’s Day, and yours is dated March 8th; but believe me, although, for good reason, I may occasionally postpone my reply to your favors, I am never in danger of forgetting them.
I am much obliged to you for permitting me to hand over your essay to Mr. Graham. It will appear in the June number. In order to understand this apparent delay, you must be informed that we go to press at a singularly early period. The May number is now within two days of being ready for delivery to the mails. I should be pleased to receive a brief notice of Soran’s poems for the June number—if you think this will not be too late.
In regard to Burton. I feel indebted to you for the kind interest you express; but scarcely know how to reply. My situation is embarrassing. It is impossible, as you say, to notice a buffoon and a felon, as one gentleman would notice another. The law, then, is my only resource. Now, if the truth of a scandal could be admitted in justification—I mean of what the law terms a scandal—I would have matters all my own way. I would institute a suit, forthwith, for his personal defamation of myself. He would be unable to prove the truth of his allegations. I could prove their falsity and their malicious intent by witnesses who, seeing me at all hours of every day, would have the best right to speak—I mean Burton’s own clerk, Morrell, and the compositors of the printing office. In fact, I could prove the scandal almost by acclamation. I should obtain damages. But, on the other hand, I have never been scrupulous in regard to what I have said of him. I have always told him to his face, and everybody else, that I looked upon him as a blackguard and a villain. This is notorious. He would meet me with a cross action. The truth of the allegation—which I could easily prove as he would find it difficult to prove the truth of his own respecting me—would not avail me. The law will not admit, as justification of my calling Billy Burton a scoundrel, that Billy Burton is really such. What then can I do? If I sue, he sues; you see how it is.
At the same time—as I may
, after further reflection, be induced to sue, I would take it as an act of kindness—not to say justice—on your part, if you would see the gentleman of whom you spoke, and ascertain with accuracy all that may legally avail me; that is to say, what and when were the words used, and whether your friend would be willing for your sake, for my sake, and for the sake of truth, to give evidence if called upon. Will you do this for me?
So far for the matter inasmuch as it concerns Burton. I have now to thank you for your defence of myself, as stated. You are a physician, and I presume no physician can have difficulty in detecting the drunkard at a glance. You are, moreover, a literary man, well read in morals. You will never be brought to believe that I could write what I daily write, as I write it, were I as this villain would induce those who know me not, to believe. In fine, I pledge you, before God, the solemn word of a gentleman, that I am temperate even to rigor. From the hour in which I first saw this basest of calumniators to the hour in which I retired from his office in uncontrollable disgust at his chicanery, arrogance, ignorance and brutality, nothing stronger than water ever passed my lips.
It is, however, due to candor that I inform you upon what foundation he has erected his slanders. At no period of my life was I ever what men call intemperate. I never was in the habit of intoxication. I never drunk drams, &c. But, for a brief period, while I resided in Richmond, and edited the Messenger, I certainly did give way, at long intervals, to the temptation held out on all sides by the spirit of Southern conviviality. My sensitive temperament could not stand an excitement which was an everyday matter to my companions. In short, it sometimes happened that I was completely intoxicated. For some days after each excess I was invariably confined to bed. But it is now quite four years since I have abandoned every kind of alcoholic drink—four years, with the exception of a single deviation, which occurred shortly after my leaving Burton, and when I was induced to resort to the occasional use of cider, with the hope of relieving a nervous attack.
You will thus see, frankly stated, the whole amount of my sin. You will also see the blackness of that heart which could revive a slander of this nature. Neither can you fail to perceive how desperate the malignity of the slanderer must be—how resolute he must be to slander, and how slight the grounds upon which he would build up a defamation—since he can find nothing better with which to charge me than an accusation which can be disproved by each and every man with whom I am in the habit of daily intercourse.
I have now only to repeat to you, in general, my solemn assurance that my habits are as far removed from intemperance as the day from the night. My sole drink is water.
Will you do me the kindness to repeat this assurance to such of your friends as happen to speak of me in your hearing?
I feel that nothing more is requisite, and you will agree with me upon reflection.
Hoping soon to hear from you, I am,
Yours most cordially,
Dr. J. E. Snodgrass.
EDGAR A. POE.
P.S.—You will receive the magazine, as a matter of course. I had supposed that you were already on our free list.
P.P.S.—The Penn, I hope, is only “scotched, not killed.” It would have appeared under glorious auspices, and with capital at command, in March, as advertised, but for the unexpected bank suspensions. In the meantime, Mr. Graham has made me a liberal offer, which I had great pleasure in accepting. The Penn project will unquestionably be resumed hereafter.
Dr. Snodgrass was a Baltimore newspaper editor who had been coeditor of the American Museum when Poe published “Ligeia” there in 1838. Poe summarizes his continuing feud with Burton and seeks advice about a prospective (but never pursued) defamation lawsuit; he also responds to Burton’s charges of Poe’s insobriety by denying recent intemperance while confessing past lapses.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO FREDERICK W. THOMAS
[Philadelphia, June 26, 1841]
My Dear Thomas,
With this I mail you the July No: of the Mag: If you can get us a notice in the Intelligencer, as you said, I will take it as a particular favor—but if it is inconvenient, do not put yourself to any trouble about it.
I have just heard through Graham, who obtained his information from Ingraham, that you have stepped into an office at Washington—salary $1000. From the bottom of my heart I wish you joy. You can now lucubrate more at your ease & will infallibly do something worthy yourself.
For my own part, notwithstanding Graham’s unceasing civility, and real kindness, I feel more & more disgusted with my situation. Would to God, I could do as you have done. Do you seriously think that an application on my part to Tyler would have a good result? My claims, to be sure, are few. I am a Virginian—at least I call myself one, for I have resided all my life, until within the last few years, in Richmond. My political principles have always been as nearly as may be, with the existing administration, and I battled with right good will for Harrison, when opportunity offered. With Mr Tyler I have some slight personal acquaintance—although this is a matter which he has possibly forgotten. For the rest, I am a literary man—and I see a disposition in government to cherish letters. Have I any chance? I would be greatly indebted to you if you reply to this as soon as you can, and tell me if it would, in your opinion, be worth my while to make an effort—and if so—put me upon the right track. This could not be better done than by detailing to me your own mode of proceeding.
It appears that Ingraham is in high dudgeon with me because I spoke ill of his “Quadroone.” I am really sorry to hear it—but it is a matter that cannot be helped. As a man I like him much, and wherever I could do so, without dishonor to my own sense of truth, I have praised his writings. His “South-West,” for example, I lauded highly. His “Quadroone” is, in my honest opinion, trash. If I must call it a good book to preserve the friendship of Prof. Ingraham—Prof. Ingraham may go to the devil.
I am really serious about the office. If you can aid me in any way, I am sure you will. Remember me kindly to Dow & believe me
Yours most truly,
F. W. Thomas.
EDGAR A POE
Phil: June 26. 41
It is not impossible that you could effect my object by merely showing this letter yourself personally to the President and speaking of me as the original editor of the Messenger.
Poe met Thomas (a Whig supporter of Harrison) during the presidential campaign of 1840. The author of an 1835 novel (Clinton Bradshaw) reviewed unfavorably by Poe, Thomas had been a friend of Poe’s brother in Baltimore and indeed received a patronage position during the presidency of Harrison’s successor, John Tyler. Poe’s claim to have “battled with right good will for Harrison” has never been substantiated, and his request to be identified to Tyler as the “original editor” of the Southern Literary Messenger is misleading at best.
EDGAR ALLAN POE TO FREDERICK W. THOMAS
Philadelphia Feb. 3, ’42.
My dear Friend:
I am sure you will pardon me for my seeming neglect in not replying to your last when you learn what has been the cause of the delay. My dear little wife has been dangerously ill. About a fortnight since, in singing, she ruptured a blood-vessel, and it was only on yesterday that the physicians gave me any hope of her recovery. You might imagine the agony I have suffered, for you know how devotedly I love her. But to-day the prospect brightens, and I trust that this bitter cup of misery will not be my portion. I seize the first moment of hope and relief to reply to your kind words.
You ask me how I come on with Graham? Will you believe it Thomas? On the morning subsequent to the accident I called upon him, and, being entirely out of his debt, asked an advance of two months salary—when he not only flatly but discourteously refused. Now that man knows that I have rendered him the most important services; he cannot help knowing it, for the fact is rung in his ears by every second person who visits the office, and the comments made by the press are too obvious to be misunderstood.
The project of the new Magazine still (you may b
e sure) occupies my thoughts. If I live, I will accomplish it, and in triumph. By the way, there is one point upon which I wish to consult you. You are personally acquainted with Robert Tyler, author of “Ahasuerus.” In this poem there are many evidences of power, and, what is better, of nobility of thought & feeling. In reading it, an idea struck me—“Might it not,” I thought, “be possible that he would, or rather might be induced to feel some interest in my contemplated scheme, perhaps even to take an interest in something of the kind—an interest either open or secret?” The Magazine might be made to play even an important part in the politics of the day, like Blackwood; and in this view might be worthy his consideration. Could you contrive to suggest the matter to him? Provided I am permitted a proprietary right in the journal, I shall not be very particular about the extent of that right. If, instead of a paltry salary, Graham had given me a tenth of his Magazine, I should feel myself a rich man to-day. When he bought out Burton, the joint circulation was 4,500, and we have printed of the February number last, 40,000. Godey, at the period of the junction, circulated 30,000, and, in spite of the most strenuous efforts, has not been able to prevent his list from falling. I am sure that he does not print more than 30,000 to-day. His absolute circulation is about 20,000. Now Godey, in this interval, has surpassed Graham in all the externals of a good Magazine. His paper is better, his type far better, and his engravings fully as good; but I fear I am getting sadly egotistical. I would not speak so plainly to any other than yourself. How delighted I would be to grasp you by the hand!
The Portable Edgar Allan Poe Page 54