Text: Albert Henry H. Canby, “He Viewed Poe's Remains,” New York Herald (New York, NY), January 11, 1895, section 4, page 2

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TO THE EDITOR OF THE HERALD: —

In the HERALD of January 6 an interesting article is published, in which some new facts are given about the incidents that attended the death, burial and disinterment Edgar Allen [[Allan]] Poe. As the details of Poe's life are so meagre, and even the few that have been written have been questioned and controverted, I take it for granted that any information bearing upon the man, either dead or alive, will be gratefully received by those who admire, his strange genius, and I prompted to describe a most impressive occasion which afforded me the opportunity to see the remains of the poet.

Certain literary persons in Baltimore in 1874 felt a desire do honor to the of Poe by erecting over his remains a suitable monument. A meeting was held and a subscription was started, which was rapidly increased by checks from all over America, and even by contributions from England and France. The pupils of public schools added their mites, and in 1875 one of the most chaste and artistic marble shafts I have seen was ready to be placed over his grave.

Dr. Morris had been a close friend of Poe, and as an editor of a Baltimore magazine had accepted many of his contributions. One day we were sitting together in his study, talking of the approaching ceremonies, when confided to me the fact that it had been arranged to exhume the remains at in a very early hour the next morning, in order that no attention would be attracted to the work.

“If you will meet me at the church at five o’clock to-morrow morning,” he said, “you can view the remains, but promise me you will make no mention of our intentions in advance, for besides the sexton and ourselves there will be but one other person present.”

I promised, and slept on a pile of newspaper exchanges in my office all night, that I might be up in time. We met, and, with the light of the sexton's lantern, made our way among the tombs beneath the church until we reached the one in which Poe had been laid to rest, twenty-six years before.

The grave had been excavated down to the coffin, and in a few moments the sexton's pick had broken the decayed wood, and the bones of the poet were exposed to view. I shall never forget the nervous tension we all endured as we lowered the lantern into the grave to catch a glimpse of that marvellous skull. Tenderly it was lifted, as we examined it in deep silence. The teeth were in a good state of preservation I remember, and the remarkable frontal development at once suggested the fidelity with which the sculptor Rinehart, I think — had pictured the poet in that beautiful medallion on the marble shaft. The left arm, from about two inches above the elbow up to and including a part of the shoulder blade, was petrified, and its nearly as perfect as it had been in life. Carefully the bones were gathered together and placed in a new coffin, and a little later the clods of earth covered it for the second time.

A few early laborers, attracted by the unusual sight, peered curiously through the iron railing and reverently stood with uncovered heads as the whisper passed among them. “It's Poe!”

A. H. CANBY

WASHINGTON, Jan. 11, 1895.