Text: Dr. Charles Greene Cumston, “The Medical History of Edgar Allan Poe, “ St. Paul Medical Journal (St. Paul, MN), vol. XI, no. 3, March 1909, pp. 129-146

[page 129:]

One evening in last December, with lighted pipe and that beatitude of mind that accrues to a medical man when all his serious cases are doing well, I was perusing The Baltimore Sun, when I came across an article in which it was stated that Baltimore was preparing to observe the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Edgar Allan Poe, on January 19, 1909. A Poe Memorial Association had been organized some months previously to raise funds for a more fitting memorial to Poe than that in Westminster churchyard, but it appeared from the article that the amount raised had not met with the expectations of the members. “But,” said The Baltimore Sun, “with the hearty co-operation of the literary men of the country, especially those who are enthusiastic admirers of the genius of Poe, and with the sympathy of the people who feel that some tribute should be paid to Poe's memory for the suffering he endured, it is believed that a celebration of national scope could be held in this city.”

The reference to Poe's sufferings, so-called, evoked the souvenir of the days which long ago have fled, when, seated in the lecture rooms of the University of Geneva, I listened to that inimitable lecturer, PROF. GOSSE, discourse on legal medicine and psychology. I turned to my note books of student days, and in them, under the heading of “Degeneration and Dipsomania,” I found many references to de Mussey, Poe, de Quincey and other geniuses in literary art.

The life of Poe is too replete in interest, both medically and psychologically, to remain in oblivion, and, although his personal [page 130:] friends did not forget his memory, they proceeded in an improper manner in their attempts to keep it alive, because, without wishing to do so, they greatly aided in perpetuating various rumors concerning Poe, which are most incorrect, if not to say, mythical, by their reticence, which only multiplied errors concerning him, when in reality they should have been perfectly frank in their references. Instead of endeavoring to conceal the fact that Nature had branded him for delirium tremens and that the fates of existence had likewise diminished his opportunities for escaping therefrom, the true facts should have been openly put forward. He should have been shown drunk, denouncing in his delirium the poison, a fact that should have delivered him from shame. From this I do not wish to infer that Poe would have joked of his physical and moral decay, as did Hoffmann, or would have cynically protested, as did Thomas de Quincey, that his only regret was that he did not begin his vice earlier, for it is most touching when one considers the real efforts that Poe made against the invasion of his vice, likewise the sincerity of his regrets after each defeat. Any one could reprimand him and would receive his thanks for their admonition. If he was publicly denounced he would then lie with that clumsiness so pre-eminent in criminals who lose their self-possession when discovered. To his last breath he swore that he would be cured of his vice, and upon several occasions he thought he was saved, but alcoholism would seize upon him in the midst of his apparent deliverance, making one more step towards the tomb. His life was tragic, his end horrible, but nevertheless it is emotional and sad.

The great luxury of imagination of which Poe was possessed has caused many of his biographers to outwit themselves in manufacturing sufficiently fabulous causes so as to be in harmony with his work. However, I put little faith in these more or less fantastical genealogies which attach Poe to either a Germanic or Italian source. It is assuredly very fine to consider him as descending from a certain Della Poe, a companion at arms of William the Conqueror, but this is an opinion which cannot historically be upheld. I shall, in the first place, study Poe's heredity in his nearest ascendants, and would say that as far as critical certitude goes, it would seem proven that the Poe family originated from Ireland.

John Poe, the founder of the American branch, emigrated from the north of Ireland and settled in Pennsylvania. From this [page 131:] we find at the very root of Poe's heredity one of these unfortunate unities of the Irish exodus to North America. John Poe was the great-grandfather of the writer, while his grandfather, David Poe, one of the finest figures of the American Revolution, was already born when John emigrated to Pennsylvania. The latter married a Miss Cairnes, an American-born woman of great beauty, if we are to believe the contemporary descriptions.

David Poe's patriotism could only be equalled by his disinterestedness, and it is common knowledge how great was his help given to Lafayette's soldiers when they were in supreme distress in 1781, at the time they were endeavoring to join the Army of the South. David Poe and his valiant wife contributed from their purse to serve the American cause. In 1814 the heroic old man, whose 72 years had not weakened, commanded his compatriots in the attack against the British at North Point. His countrymen had for a long time known him under no other name than that of General Poe.

Lafayette never forgot David Poe's generosity nor his usefulness, and he recalled with pleasure the memory of Poe when he returned to Baltimore in 1785. However, valiant conduct is not food and drink for a man, and upon his death the General left his widow in a miserable condition, living sparingly on a small pension accorded her by the State of Maryland, and when the French hero returned on his triumphal voyage to receive the laurels of his work, he knelt at the grave of David Poe and said, with heartfelt emotion, “Here lies a noble heart.”

General Poe had several children, but their exact number is a mooted question. However, this is of little import, because the immediate ascendant of Poe, his father, is known. From this time on it is quite impossible to separate his paternal from his maternal heredity, because the lives of his father and mother were intimately united.

His father, David, the eldest son of General Poe, was born in 1780. He showed great brilliancy in his studies in his native town of Baltimore, and then entered the study of law at the wish of his family, who had destined him to become a member of the bar. But the young man detested the parchment as much as he loved poetry, and his adventurous tastes naturally led him towards the theater. The glories of the stage tempted his young imagination, and finally he left the paternal roof and became engaged in a theatrical company at Charleston. His family, however, considered [page 132:] his evasion as a mere escapade, and he was taken away from the stage during his early début, but his vocation imperiously held him, and at last victorious, he permanently joined the ranks of lyric art. Whether or not it is correct to use the word vocation when expressing the sentiment which forced young Poe behind the footlights, is problematical. One might, in truth, uphold that a softer sentiment drew him to the strolling company with which he first appeared at Charleston on December 1, 1803. If his vocation was a true one, David Poe certainly gave evidence of great energy, because his beginning was far from encouraging. For this reason it is more probable that the young actor had been attracted to the society of the comedians by an amorous intrigue, because it appears that two years later he married the widow of one of the principal actors of the company, a certain Mrs. Hopkins. As will be seen later, the death of Hopkins greatly changed the destinies of the company, but for the moment I would consider the character of Mrs. Hopkins in relation to Edgar Poe's heredity on the maternal side.

Mrs. Hopkins was the daughter of an actress, a Mrs. Arnold, who had begun her career at London and then continued to play in America, where she met with great success, if the pompous style of the contemporary press is to be relied on. But public favor was only transitory, because the renowned actress soon married an obscure pianist by the name of Tubbs, in conjunction with whom she opened a concert hall, an enterprise which does not appear to have been a great success, in spite of the talent which the lady appeared to show indifferently in opera, operetta or even in the rendering of popular songs.

The above transpired at Portland, and the daughter of the ex-Mrs. Arnold, Elizabeth, participated in the performances. Thus the mother of Edgar Poe was familiar with the stage from infancy. The history of the Tubbs is not well known, but Elizabeth Arnold, who had caused considerable furor and admiration at Portland in the parts of Cupid and of Nymphes, was one of the second-rate celebrities of her time, and never for an instant disappeared from the contemporary theatrical annals. In June, 1802, she married an actor by the name of Hopkins, at Philadelphia, and from this time on she played with the strolling troup in which young David Poe made his début.

This company had a considerable reputation in the Southern cities, and a year after the marriage of Elizabeth Arnold with [page 133:] Hopkins, David broke in upon the company, as we have said, in the cause of which, it would appear, Mrs. Hopkins was not completely a stranger. At the death of her husband, two years later, it seemed probable that there had been a liaison between the widow and Poe, and in point of fact Edgar was the result of their union.

The young couple found themselves in most straightened circumstances, and they took refuge in Boston, where they remained for three years. David Poe, who made a poor showing in the Charleston company, nevertheless gave evidence of remarkable natural talents. He was good-looking, with a good voice, but he was never able to exhibit his natural accomplishments in a manner to suit the public, and at this time, at the age of 26 years, after having cherished the most foolish dreams, found himself reduced to the part of a mediocre and miserable comedian, forced to fill parts of second order.

His wife had never studied, her education had been neglected, but from her tenderest infancy she had learned to face the public, which she knew well and feared not. A critic, a friend of her husband's, endeavored to write him up on account of his American birth and ancestors, while Elizabeth in the meanwhile was able to fulfill the most important parts in the large theaters, but she did not escape adverse criticism and evil remarks. Poor David was almost drawn into an affair of honor on her account, and one can easily conceive the unfortunate situation of this couple, in which a worthless woman, both naturally so and from hereditary gifts, honored the son of heroes by her union with him. Elizabeth's successes did not very greatly improve the material situation of the couple, who lived in a most precarious way at Boston, in spite of the appeals addressed to the public by their devoted friends. Towards the end of 1809 they left Boston, where they had so greatly suffered, since success in histrionic art had not been sufficient for their support.

In 1810 they played a season in New York without being remarked, after which they went to Richmond, where David Poe, ruined morally and physically, ended by dying from pthisis, whose progress was hastened by his alcoholic excesses. It should here be pointed out that alcoholism was particulary [[particularly]] marked in the Southern States, and that in the Poe family all the brothers had a great propensity towards the bottle. In proof of this, among others, I would refer to a letter from William to his brother, [page 134:] Edgar, in which he warns him against the immoderate use of the bottle, stating that it had been a great enemy in their family. Edgar's father consequently hastened his death by drink, if in reality he did not produce it by immoderate libations.

His wife did not survive him for any length of time; the last act of her life was quickly ended, following the deceptions and fatigue that she had experienced. This actress, who in her triumphant days at Boston was struggling nevertheless with the difficulties of domestic economy, played three parts during the same evening. Sad and hopeless, miserable and afflicted with pulmonary consumption, she came back to play Ophelia in the theaters of Virginia, where, at the age of 12, she had played Cupid. Her illness soon become more marked, and benefits were given in her behalf, although she could not appear in them, as she no longer was able to leave the pile of straw that served her as a bed. Touching appeals were made to the public in order that money might be raised, one of them being as follows:

”TO CHARITABLE PEOPLE.

“To-night, Mrs. Poe on her sick bed, surrounded by her children, solicits your assistance, and, perhaps, for the last time.”

But the time had come when these appeals failed, the unfortunate Elizabeth Poe died, and her biographers have left us most sad descriptions of her death. In the poor home that David Poe had left, his wife gave vent to her last breath on a bed of straw. Her neighbors found her dead, in a house without fire, clothes or money. Everything had been pawned in order to give the patient a few insufficient necessities for her treatment, which, for that matter, were powerless.

The unfortunate woman left three children, William, Edgar and Rosalie. The latter was still an infant, and all of them were half naked and nearly dead from hunger. In her early age, Rosalie appeared as if in a stupor. During her early life her constitution could not resist the deleterious action of the food which was proffered her by the old servant who had been brought from Ireland with Elizabeth at the time of their emigration. This old woman gave the children bread to suck which had been soaked in gin, in order, as she thought, to give them strength as well as to quiet them. Rosalie's stupor certainly explains the calmative effect attributed to alcohol by this wretched woman. I am unaware whether Edgar derived the brilliant flashes of intelligence [page 135:] from alcohol, but it would seem that alcohol was the cause of the wreck of his reason.

Thus, from infancy Edgar sustained the attacks of this terrible scourge, which, at that time, reigned supreme in his native country. Poe's father left to his son the alcoholic heredity of the Poe family. Impulsive and without any sustained energy, he was a complete failure in life, a fact which influenced his son, especially by the conditions of life which the former created for him. His mother, born of an unknown father, was a miserable creature, who, at times lauded to the skies, at others despised, always lived in misery. Phthisical, she was not made to bring to her children an element of reaction against the bad blood of the Poes. Her last child, little Rosalie, remained idiotic, a condition which should be attributed quite as much to the physiological misery of her constitution as to the nature of her alimentation. Poe's brother, William, who appears to have been endowed with very brilliant literary qualities, composed several bits of poetry, which have been lost. He gave himself up to drink, after an unfortunate love affair, and enlisted in the navy at the time of the Hellenic War of Independence. This brother, by his brilliant mind, his adventurous character and alcoholic proclivities, closely resembled Edgar.

As has been seen, Edgar Poe belonged to a family in which hereditary alcoholism was deeply rooted. His father was a social outcast, phthisical and impulsive, while his mother was likewise consumptive and of unknown origin. She died early in life from overwork and misery, while two of her children were mentally affected. We have here certainly more than is necessary for establishing the pathologic soil of this unfortunate family. Poe, issuing from a neuropathic race, was destined to expiate the faults of his ancestors. His unbalanced nervous centers prevented him from any possibility of living a moral life. This heavy morbid heredity exposed his incoördinated personality to the dangerous action of impulses and obsessions, both forces which would fatally triumph over his will and lead at the same time to the glory of his genius and the misfortunes of his life. He was undoubtedly aware of this, because upon a number of occasions he declared himself to be the child of an eminently excitable race, quite as remarkable by its talents as by its passions. Such is the morbid heredity of Edgar Poe, and we will now proceed to examine what influence his education had upon him. [page 136:]

In the nineteenth century the importance of education was greatly exaggerated, while at the present time, after innumerable studies on heredity, the other extreme has been reached. Many philosophers are of the opinion that education is quite powerless to have much of any effect upon the temperament and character of a race. Many uphold that a subject is born a criminal just as one may be born a poet. The entire moral destiny of a child is contained within him in utero. Both these theories are without doubt exaggerated, and there is no doubt that proper education is a great help, but, unfortunately, in the case of Poe, it merely added fuel to his hereditary proclivities. In point of fact, education is a combination of coördinate suggestions and contemporary researches in the matter of suggestion show that it always produces in the mind, at any time of its evolution, an artificial instinct capable of producing a control, at least for a certain length of time, over the pre-existing tendencies.

On the day following the death of Mrs. Poe, a certain Mrs. Allan, a Scotch woman, adopted Edgar, who, at this time, was three years old. The Allans were well-to-do and without children, and soon looked upon Poe as their son. Edgar manifested an affection for his adopted mother, which he always cherished. As he grew up his intellectual faculties developed with such rapidity that his adopted parents should have been disturbed, but, in reality, these merely were the cause of their admiration. As Moreau, de Tours, says: “When pathologic influences disturb the natural progress of organic evolution, these influences may act in one of two ways; either by exaggerating the action of the formative cause or else depressing it or even annihilating it. To the first of these conditions corresponds an extraordinary intellectual activity and a precocity of mind more or less remarkable; in the second case the intellectual activity is more or less hindered or else rendered completely null.” Edgar Poe was one of these beings with a plethoric intellect.

The Allans worshipped their adopted son, particularly on account of his marvelous faculties. They cultivated his natural gifts of declamation and, unfortunately, also his proud and authoritative character. Among many of his recitations he declaimed the discourse of Cassius to Brutus. In June, 1815, the Allans took Edgar to London and placed him there under the care of the Rev. Dr. Bransby, where he immediately made himself remarked as a scholar marvelously endowed, but also very [page 137:] headstrong, and the good pastor attributed the follies of young Poe to the unlimited generosity of his parents. When, at the end of five years, at the age of twelve, he left school, he could speak French, and knew its literature and history far better than more advanced scholars.

If one reads his recollections, and if, on the other hand, one sees or detects by the characters in his works their real meaning, it is easy to likewise suspect the morbid condition of the author's mind. He is in the midst of a struggle against an unknown enemy, something indefinite, and this condition is found in hysterical subjects and neurasthenics. He is obsessed and sad, sad because his mind is in a state of unbalance. He presents the need of automatism so common in unbalanced minds, and this need of automatism already reveals the impulsive character soon to become a dipsomaniac upon the first opportunity, like Thomas de Quincey, who in order to cure a dental neuralgia with opium, became an opium habitué.

At the age of fifteen Poe was an enthusiast and very strong for his age, but, at the same time, he was a prey to the morbid curiosity of neurotics. He shows the innate tendency presented by many hereditary subjects, to undertake from his early life studies far above his intelligence, to give himself up to abstract studies and the composition of mystic, sibyllic and misty writings, an endeavor to discover a symbolic signification in things, to compose verses and undertake the solution of unsolvable problems. From all these things arises that vast collection of good-for-nothings who pullulate in the lower stages of art and literature, particularly in large cities; likewise the tide of reformers, apostles, inventors, poets and even philosophers who are merely candidates for hereditary insanity.

Soon afterwards, but before Poe was obliged to struggle for his existence, a period of melancholic depression appeared in him, and in this predisposed soil a morbid idea became implanted which would soon grow spontaneously, giving rise to noxious fruits. Mrs. Stonard, of whom he was very fond, died, and for months after her decease he visited the cemetery at night. The thought that she slept there in solitude filled his heart with a profound affliction, and, when the nights were cold and dark, when the storms of autumn raged and the wind sighed over the tombs, he did not remain long at the grave, but left with the greatest regret. This strange superstition of the survival of the [page 138:] senses in death, mixed with physical horror and platonic ecstacy, this peculiar necrophilic erotomania, fortified with spiritualism and magnetism, was the philosophy and religion of Poe during practically all his life.

Towards the commencement of 1827, at the age of eighteen, we first note a particularly distinct impulsive act. This was when he left the Allans under the pretext that they did not supply him with sufficient money. In relation to this his friend Ellis has written that he thus commenced a career which step by step would lead him to the frightful misery of his ultimate existence. From this time on his great passion for alcohol, in other words his dipsomania, took distinct possession of him. He would take a glass of strong liquor without sugar or water and swallow it at one gulp without tasting it. He drank in a barbarous fashion during his life, but liquor was never a source of sensual or intellectual voluptuousness for him, it merely dulled his painful sentiments. He swallowed alcohol under the impulse of a disordered will, which remained dormant sometimes for months, only to awaken with an outburst at the most unexpected time. Up to almost the last his excesses retained their intermittent character. He would become quite sober, although there were plenty of temptations to drink in his surroundings; then he would suddenly begin to drink at a time when he appeared to be in the greatest security.

This form of alcoholic indulgence which we term dipsomania was without doubt the affliction from which Poe suffered, although one cannot be too affirmative in this respect on account of the lack of precise records regarding Poe. It is, however, generally admitted that drunkards are subjects who become intoxicated when they have an opportunity to drink, while a dipsomaniac becomes intoxicated only when an attack of their affection takes possession of them. Then, again, dipsomania must be distinguished from alcoholism; the former is a type of instinctive monomania, usually of an hereditary type, while, on the contrary, alcoholism is simply a poisoning giving rise to the same symptomatology in all cases.

If one considers the struggles of William Wilson, the horror of the situation of these unfortunate persons can be well understood, likewise the struggle between their conscience and their disease, and also the ease with which so many men prepare this fearful condition for their descendants. [page 139:]

Children of alcoholics, it is well known, possess anatomical changes of their nervous centers, which has been expressed by Baudelaire in one of his writings concerning Poe, when he says: “Is there then a diabolic Providence which prepares the misfortune from the cradle? Are there sacred souls, consecrated to the altar, condemned to walk to death and to glory through their own ruins? Their destiny is written over their entire constitution, it sparkles with a sinister light in their looks and their jests, it circulates in their arteries in each of their blood globules.”

Beaudelaire was only mistaken on one point, that which prepares the misfortunes of such as Edgar Poe from the cradle, because it is our short-sightedness which does not prevent fathers in the midst of their excesses to reflect upon their descendants. The diabolic Providence does not reside in heaven, it is very much nearer to us. It is seated at our firesides, where it rocks us on its knees and laughs at the idea that it might wish us harm. Like all degenerates, Poe traveled the earth. He went to Boston and then when the Greek fought the Turk he left to enter the cause; while going through France he was wounded in a duel, and after a series of adventures, which he has described in his “Life of an Artist,” he returned to America. Relative to his various escapades, he relates a series of false adventures, which in him is merely the outline of a mythomania. He entered the American army, likewise the West Point Academy, and here he presented very marked disturbances. On account of his irritability he was often punished, and had at this time that weary and haunted look of a melancholic.

He was finally discharged in March, 1831, with twelve cents in his pocket. He, however, reached New York, and from there went to Baltimore, miserable, without shelter, and only avoided dying of starvation thanks to a literary man who was able to get some of his stories published in a Richmond paper.

His early stories already have a tendency towards the horrible, and his physiognomy distinctly showed the unbalanced condition of his mind. His looks told the secret of his soul, and nevertheless every one was unanimous in saying that his face showed the marks of genius. Poe contributed to this somewhat by wearing the collar and cravat such as was worn by Byron. This toilet was not necessary, because Nature had given him the make-up for his part of romantic poet by giving him a mouth of pain and the eyes of an insane person, eyes dark and sparkling, [page 140:] set in a face which was spiritualistic by its paleness and the enormous size of the forehead. Poe never laughed and very rarely smiled. He never had cordial relations with his fellows, and was rather pleased to be an enigma, so that public curiosity might be directed towards him, whether he appeared laden with a tragic sadness, or whether his expression gave evidence within him of storms of tumultuous passions. He never passed by unnoticed, but he lived in a state of dreams in which there were hardly ever any but mild and agreeable sensations. In his writings it is to be remarked that all those who came in contact with him were struck by his absentmindedness. He looked without seeing, and very frequently he became absorbed in visions from which it was very difficult to arouse him, because he believed that they opened the domain of the supernatural to him. He said that he had discovered procedures by which he could at will place himself in a condition in which the “ecstasies” came upon him, but these procedures were not at all what one would have been led to believe they were according to his vice. Far from being derived from his drink, these visions in reality had no greater enemy than alcohol, and their flight was the certain result and the great punishment of his excesses. Each attack of overindulgence made him ill for several days, but these days were filled with beautiful dreams until the latter were replaced by the horrors of alcoholic delirium.

When his mental and physical health allowed him to contemplate with his so-called visionary eye, it is well known what he saw, because he never ceased to write about it. His landscapes are not even taken from Nature; they are usually dreamy, constructed by his imagination with undecisive and moving forms suggested to his neurotic brain in his long walks.

In the kingdom of sensations, the superman is the neurotic, and this Poe knew from experience, and was quite willing to brag about it. This neurosis was increased by alcohol, and can often be traced in his writings. He was fond of a certain Mary of Baltimore, and a drunken scene caused a rupture between them. Irritable remonstrances and a noisy discussion arose, and Poe threw at his fiancée of the day before the stick he had used to beat a too inopportune uncle.

A young journalist, Wilmer by name, who met Poe almost daily, has stated that the latter always kept a bottle of rum concealed in a cupboard, while a certain Hewill [[Hewitt]] has written that he [page 141:] has seen him intoxicated only once, but that this condition might have been due to the influence of narcotics. All his friends are of the opinion that before the age of twenty Poe had not contracted intemperate habits, only occasionally committing alcoholic excesses, and these were of no very great importance.

Dipsomania has oftentimes as immediate causes, moral emotions, domestic troubles, misery or a loss of fortune, and this malady is less frequently met with in imbeciles and inferior people than it is in those who have morally fallen, who have received a good education and have afterwards dissipated or compromised their fortune. It is probably at the critical stage of the 20th year, under the debilitating and depressing influence of misery, that the more or less latent dipsomania of Poe became distinctly evident, occurring in sudden attacks whose violence both astonished and alarmed the victim and those around him. He, himself, has said that he was possessed of a mystery that he could not fathom, and believed himself born to suffer, and this condition of mind poisoned his entire life. It was at this time that he became emaciated and fantastic, a prey of the most peculiar obsessions and odious impulses; he was at the same time an alarmed victim and a complacent observer of his fatal passion for stimulating or stupefying drugs and of the strange attacks of an unknown disease.

To dream, says this mysterious person, who felt himself vowed to a bad destiny, was the affair of his life, and why should he cease; why now, especially in the cold valley and shade, contemplate the beautiful existence which should have been mine, and not give myself up recklessly to a life of magnificent meditation in this city of vague visions which is my Venice. He asks to whom he should be responsible for his conduct and who would reproach him for his hours of contemplation, and demands who would call the wasting of a life an activity which is only the overflow of an interminable energy.

But, unfortunately, following his dreamy ecstasy, a strange habit of intense and continuous thought invaded him even in his most trivial actions, slipping into his hours of relaxation and insinuating itself into the greatest gaiety like serpents which slip from the eyes of the grimacing masks on the temples of Persepolis. One should not be led astray by his expressions of thought, because under the alternating lightness and solemnity of these mental flashes there is a certain atmosphere of trepidation, an unexplainable [page 142:] and alarming excitement which too easily becomes transformed into an instability quite as provoking as a demon, only too often becoming interrupted by sudden lapses of anxious expectation which would be caused by the noise of an imaginary sound or at the approach of an unexpected visitor.

The progress of his mental disorganization became thus accelerated under the influence of misery, overwork and alcoholic excesses. Pride was succeeded by a provoking rage, maniacal tendencies and suicidal impulses. The ecstasy in which he frequently found himself was, perhaps, accompanied by an hysterical aura combined with hallucinations.

It was in the midst of this rapidly developing mental breakdown that unlooked-for success came to him, because he obtained a prize of one hundred dollars offered to competitors for a story for the “Saturday Visitor.” The tale which took the prize was the famous “Ms. Found in a Bottle,” and at the time of publication the journal in which it was published stated that the author owed to his own reputation, as well as the gratification of the public, the publication of a complete volume of his ‘Tales of the Folio Club.” These tales, it was also stated, were eminently distinguished by a strange, vigorous and poetic imagination, a rich style, a fertile invention and a varied and rare knowledge.

Shortly afterwards Poe's protector, Mr. Allan, died, and the poet was at last in the grasp of misery. Then the morbid manifestations of his mind increased and the impulses gained the better of him. Dipsomania seized upon him and at times he presented attacks of melancholia intermingled with periods of mental activity bordering on maniacal excitement. He presented the characteristic of a degenerate, viz., impulses and later on a changeableness of character made evident by an alternating depression and mental excitement. He continued to publish his works, and later on became the editor of a journal with a salary of ten dollars weekly, so that at this time he made a little money, but his mental condition became permanently diseased on account of his dissipation and excesses. In spite of his success he remained melancholic, because he was mentally affected. On September 11th, 1835, he wrote to Kennedy that his situation was quite agreeable in many respects, but that it was evident to him that nothing in the future could give him pleasure or the slightest satisfaction. He also stated that at that time his sentiments were truly lamentable, that he suffered from a depression of spirits [page 143:] such as he had never before felt. He had struggled in vain against the influence of his melancholia, and begged his friend to believe him when he said that he was always unhappy in spite of the fortunate change which had taken place in his affairs. At this period of his life he was frequently intoxicated, and the editor of the journal to which he collaborated wrote to him telling him of his fine qualities, and that he should make them respected by others, as well as make himself respected. He likewise begged him to flee from drink and to shun his companions of the bottle. The form of Poe's alcoholism certainly makes evident that in this case, at least, his responsibility is greatly attenuated. The impulsive paroxysms which he could not resist and announced their coming by a melancholic depression, were due to this.

From a medical point of view this premonitory melancholic depression occurring in dipsomaniacs may be described as an indefinite feeling of sadness that occupations and pleasures are incapable of overcoming. These subjects, discouraged and depressed, renounce all work which from this time on makes it impossible for them to think of. Dark ideas obsess them, and everything appears changed in their surroundings. They feel as if menaced by an impending misfortune, their character becomes bitter, while their affective sentiments become changed, so that those the most dear to them become objects of indifference. This general mental depression allows the irresistible desire to drink to become rooted in them and like a true reflex suddenly springing from the depths of the organism, this impulse becomes violently affirmed and requires a complete and entire satisfaction. It is a despot which reigns supreme, confiscating to its own profit all the forces of the personality.

From this condition arises the awful fear of succumbing to this odious tyranny. Likewise the awful agony which gives to the inner struggle such a tragic character. Nevertheless, the physical disturbances of the senses become accentuated, precordial anxiety, sensations of strangulation and burning in the throat and epigastrium torment the victim, while a devouring thirst which nothing can appease other than the rapid ingestion of strong drink, drives him to the bottle. It is in vain that the conscience watches, in vain that the patient holds counsel with himself, remonstrances or hard words have no effect, and although he flees from opportunities to drink he nevertheles [[nevertheless]] remains the slave of his dipsomania. [page 144:]

In this desperate struggle in which anarchic automatism of inferior tendencies triumphs over the authority of the finer faculties, there is no longer any will, resistance or responsibility; the dipsomaniac is conquered and drinks with frenzy, although with disgust, until his passion has been satisfied, when he falls inert. Then comes the painful awakening, with lassitude and despair. To the physical discomforts of alcoholic intoxication are added the moral sufferings, which far surpass the former. The patient deplores his excesses, curses his disease, considers himself unfit for pardon, or for existence, and calls death to his aid. However, strength returns, and with it there is a ray of hope, and then the subject makes the most fervent promises never to return to his former habits. The courageous privation, the enforced exemplary sobriety and the frightful aversion for alcohol of these unfortunates must be looked on with great compassion. Slowly the patient gains confidence in himself and quits his reserved, uneasy, preoccupied attitude, and at certain moments of well being when he is calm and full of hope, it would seem as if he was rid of his affection until he again becomes depressed and another impulse arises, so that the despairing victim is again prey to another attack of dipsomania quite as unconquerable as the former . ones. Thus, the poor reasoning maniac goes through life, becoming more and more depressed, more and more degraded, until his physical strength leaves him, and nothing but his impaired intellectual faculties still remaining, he is vowed to the most ignoble end.

It goes without saying that a dipsomaniac paroxysm does not always take on these typical characteristics. This mental affection has not the monopoly of absolute immutability. All degrees of impulse may be met with in the same patient, from the more or less tenacious constraint up to the most absolute irresistibility, although it is quite impossible to measure this invisible force. All dipsomaniacs are not, says MAGNAN, models of temperance between their paroxysms of impulses, and they may give themselves lightly up to orgies with their companions. It is then the melancholic depression much more than the impulse which characterizes their true attacks of dipsomania. The alternatives of depression and excitement of the poet were such that it may be questioned whether or not Poe was not a subject of maniacal depressive insanity, towards the end of his life. CULLERRE says: “Certain cases of circular insanity pass for simple lunatics, of [page 145:] unequal humor, sometimes gay, at others morose. mentions a member of the Institute, who, in spite of an insanity of double form, with which he was affected, “continued to take part in the meetings of this company; sometimes he would be sad and mute, at others he was one of the most active in speaking.”

Towards the end Edgar Poe considered the instability and variability of the ego as a typical formula of his genius and of all genius. In order to have a helpmate he married, but his brain continued its zig-zag course, and again misery came upon him. In 1849 he appears to have had a true attack of delirium. He entered the office of an editor, one John Sartain, with a haggard expression and told him that during his trip to New York he had heard people plotting against his life, and he asked for a razor in order that he might shave his whiskers so that his identity would not be recognized. Then he also related the visions he had in a prison where a young and beautiful woman, radiant by herself and the atmosphere surrounding her, addressed him from above on the battlements of a tower. Mr. Sartain states that after Poe had slept he little by little recovered his senses and admitted that these nightmares were merely illusions. What particularly struck Sartain was that Poe clamored for laudanum, and here it is evident that he had an attack of delirium characterized by the multiplicity of its forms, a polymorphous attack quite characteristic of degeneration.

From this time on this unfortunate man who, for so long had remained on the border-line of insanity, finally crossed it. The day before his death he was found on a train from Philadelphia and was sent by the conductor to another train going to Baltimore. He arrived there in the night, and instead of going to an hotel, he wandered through the streets and in a state of stupor was seized by a band of politicians, who from the morning on promenaded the unfortunate being from one poll to another and made him vote according to their desires. A printer late in the day found him more dead than alive in a disreputable tavern near the voting polls; he took pity upon him and sent word to one of Poe's former correspondents, a certain DR. SNODGRASS, who came and had Poe, who was still unconscious, transported to an hospital, where he was admitted at about 5 o’clock. His Baltimore relations were notified, particularly his cousin, Neilson Poe, who hastened to come to him. Other than for a few moments, [page 146:] he remained delirious up to Sunday afternoon, and towards 5 o’clock on October 7, 1849, Edgar Poe expired. To sum up, it may be said that Poe is an excellent example of the insanity of degenerates, and it is possible that from the depression and mental excitement from which he alternately suffered, he perhaps might be considered afflicted with maniacal depressive insanity. When under the influence of alcohol a distinct insanity became manifest, characterized by a polymorphous delirium in which all types might be mingled or supersede each other.

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