Text: Eugene L. Didier, “The Semi-Centennial of America's Famous Poet,” The Poe Cult and Other Poe Papers (1909), pp. 207-215

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The semi-centennial of the death of Edgar Allan Poe possesses a melancholy interest for all who admire genius, and have a pity for the misfortunes that so often attend those who receive the fateful gift. No American poet, living or dead, has attracted more attention than the author of “The Raven.” Nine lives of him have been written, yet about no celebrated poet of modern times has it been more difficult to obtain the real facts of both his life and death. According to some of his biographers, he mingled among men as a bewildered angel; while others describe him as a prying fiend; or, an Ishmaelite, with his hands against everyone, and everyone's against him. The time and place of his birth were for many years uncertain; even now some of his biographers still differ upon the subject. The place of his burial was at one time undecided, but that was definitely settled, in 1875, when his remains were discovered in Westminster churchyard, Baltimore, and a monument erected over his grave.

Born in poverty, reared in luxury, and [page 208:] thrown upon the world without a dollar, he lived and died a mystery. When Alexander the Great set out to conquer the world, he depended upon his sword. Edgar Poe, at the same age as the great Macedonian, was compelled to depend upon his pen for a living at a time when literature was not recognized as a profession in this country, and when the rewards of even the highest literary talent were beggarly in the extreme.

The sad and romantic story of Poe's life has touched a sympathetic chord in the heart of the world. Never before or since has so much misery been united to so much genius. Believers in heredity see in him a remarkable example of the truth of their opinion. His father, David Poe, Jr., a Baltimore law student, ran off with and married Elizabeth Arnold, an English actress. The husband adopted his wife's profession. After a wandering life of toil and poverty, they both died within a few weeks of each other, leaving three children. Edgar, the second son, was adopted by a Mr. Allan, a wealthy merchant “of that city, who, after rearing him as the heir of a princely fortune, cut him off without a shilling. Homeless and penniless, Edgar wandered to Baltimore, where he found a home in the house of Mrs. Clemm, his father's sister. [page 209:] He married his lovely young cousin, Virginia Clemm, and the three formed a happy little household until the death of his child-wife in the midst of heartrending poverty, caused by the constant watching of the poet by the sick bed of the sufferer, deprived him of his only means of support — his pen.

In Lenore, in Annabel Lee, in Eulalie, and other poems, Poe embalmed the memory of his wife in immortal dirges.

From the intolerable sorrow, caused by the loss of his fair and gentle wife, Poe was aroused to a temporary forgetfulness by the affectionate sympathy of Sarah Helen Whitman, the most gifted poetess of New England. For a few brief weeks they were engaged to be married. Why the engagement was broken has never been satisfactorily explained, but that Poe was not blameable in the matter is proved by the fact that Mrs. Whitman remained [page 210:] his friend, and was his enthusiastic defender as long as she lived. One of her last poems was to “The Portrait of Poe,” in which she pays a beautiful tribute to his genius, and offers a touching proof of her devotion to his memory.

In striking contrast were the first and last funerals of Edgar A. Poe. On that dreary Autumn day in 1849, when the most original of American poets was laid to rest among his ancestors, in Westminster churchyard, only one carriage followed the remains to the grave. The ceremony was scant, and the attendants were scantier, for eight persons only were present. Poe had died under a cloud — the hapless victim of “unmerciful disaster” — his last hours were passed in the charity ward of a public hospital; he was buried in a poplar coffin, stained to imitate walnut; it was a funeral such as a poor man, with few friends and no relatives, might have had.

The account given of Poe's funeral, by Dr. John J. Moran, in his “Defense of Edgar A. Poe,” is known to be incorrect and misleading. For instance, he gives the names of eight persons as present at the funeral, only two of whom were there. They were Rev. W. T. D. Clemm and Mr. Henry Herring, both of whom were relatives of Poe. The other persons who [page 211:] attended the first burial were: Z. Collins Lee, afterwards judge of the Superior Court of Baltimore, who had been a classmate of Poe at the University of Virginia; Neilson Poe, afterwards chief judge of the Orphans’ Court of Baltimore; Edmund Smith, a well-known school-teacher in Baltimore fifty years ago, and his wife, who was a first cousin of the poet; Dr. J. E. Snodgrass, the last editor of the Baltimore Saturday Visitor, the paper from which Poe received the $ioo prize offered for the best story.

Another of Dr. Moran's misstatements is that the body of the poet was laid in state in the large room in the rotunda of the college building adjoining the hospital, that “hundreds of his friends and acquaintances came to see him, that at least fifty ladies received locks of his hair.” Poe had not a dozen friends in Baltimore, and if “fifty ladies received locks of his hair,” the poet's cranium must have been reduced to the appearance of a billiard ball. What became of those coveted “locks” from the head that conceived “The Raven,” “The Gold Bug,” “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Bells,” and other marvelous tales and poems that have thrilled the world for fifty years? In these days, when a letter written by Poe readily brings $200 in the autograph [page 212:] market, a lock of the poet's hair would be worth a small fortune to its owner. The “fifty ladies” who received “locks of Poe's hair” existed only in Dr. Moran's imagination; he wished to throw a little sympathy and sentiment around the horrible tragedy of Poe's wretched death. The doctor's intention was good, but we are dealing with facts, not fiction — we are writing history, not romance. The picture, stripped of all romance and sentiment, is ghastly enough to suit the most melodramatic play that ever stirred the lieges in the Bowery Theatre.

The second burial of Edgar A. Poe took place on the 17th of November, 1875. The occasion was interesting and remarkable. The ceremonies took place in the large hall of the building then used as the Western Female High School, on the corner of Fayette and Greene Streets, adjoining Westminster church, in the graveyard of which the body of the poet had rested for twenty-six years without a stone to show that it was the grave of the most unique genius that America has given to the world. Among those seated upon the platform were: Walt Whitman, Dr. Nathan Covington Brooks, in whose Baltimore Magazine some of Poe's early writings had appeared; Dr. J. E. Snodgrass, Prof. Joseph Clarke, who [page 213:] was Poe's first teacher in Richmond; John T. Morris, the President of the Baltimore School Board; Neilson Poe, Rev. Dr. John G. Morris, Vice President and afterwards President of the Maryland Historical Society; John T. Ford, Manager of Ford's Grand Opera House; Prof. William Elliot, Jr., President of the Baltimore City College; Henry E. Shepherd, Superintendent of the Public Schools of Baltimore.

The exercises opened with the reading of the history of the movement for the erection of the monument, by Prof. Elliot; this was followed by the reading of the letters written by Tennyson, Swinburne, Longfellow, Holmes, Aldrich, Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, and Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman; with poetic tributes from Paul H. Hayne and Stephane Mallarme, the French admirer of Poe. The best of the poetic tributes was written by William Winter, entitled, “At Poe's Grave.” Two stanzas from this touchingly sympathetic poem will give an idea of the tender grace of charity that inspired the poet:

Prof. Shepherd delivered a masterly address on the “Genius and Literary Character of Poe,” at the conclusion of which he congratulated the audience that “The Poetic corner of our Westminster was at last rescued from the ungrateful neglect which for a quarter of a century has constituted the just reproach of our state and our metropolis. In the dedication of this monument to the memory of our poet, I recognize an omen of highest and noblest import, reaching far beyond the mere preservation of his fame by the ‘dull, cold marble,’ which marks his long-neglected grave.” Prof. Shepherd's address was listened to with profound attention. Mr. John H. B. Latrobe, the last survivor of the committee of three gentlemen who awarded the prize to Poe for the best prose tale, then gave some personal reminiscences of the poet, after which the audience proceeded to Westminster churchyard, where the unveiling of the monument took place. During the ceremony of the unveiling the Philharmonic Society chanted the dirge, “Sleep and Rest,” which was adapted from Tennyson's “Sweet and Low,” by Mrs. [page 215:] Eleanor Fullerton. Poe's mother had been an actress at the HolHday Street Theatre, Baltimore, and an interesting feature of the ceremonies upon the occasion of the last burial of our poet was the placing upon the monument of a beautiful wreath composed of camelias, lilies and tea roses, a tribute from the company at Ford's Grand Opera House, gotten up through the active zeal of Mrs. Germon, the veteran actress. The funds for this monument were largely raised through the efforts of Miss Sara S. Rice, of the Western Female High School, who also took a prominent part in the exercises.

How striking the difference between the first and last burial of Edgar A. Poe! The former was a funeral such as is given to the poor, the obscure, the friendless; the latter was a magnificent demonstration in honor of a poet who has bestowed more glory upon American literature than any other American author.