MRS. CLEMM.
His father's sister, Mrs. Maria Clemm, who had for some years been
living in a New York country town, supporting herself and little
daughter by dressmaking, about this time returned to Baltimore, and
hearing from the Poes of the presence of her brother's son in the city,
commenced a search for him. She found him, at length, ill--really ill;
and at once took him to her own humble home, installing him in a room
which had been furnished for a lodger, and from that hour attended and
cared for him with a true motherly devotion.
Those who believe in the spirit of the old adage, "Blood is thicker than
water," may imagine what a blessed relief this was to the weary and
almost despairing wanderer. Here he had what he needed almost as much as
he did food--rest; rest for the weak and exhausted body and for the
anxious mind as well. Here, in the quiet little room, he could lie and
dream, in the blissful consciousness that near him were the watchful
eyes and careful hands of his own father's sister, ready to attend to
his slightest want. And from the day on which he first entered her
humble abode Poe was never more to be a homeless wanderer. To him it
proved ever a safe little harbor, a sure haven of refuge and repose in
all storms and troubles that assailed, even to his life's end.
Mrs. Clemm was at this time a strong, vigorous woman, somewhat past
middle age, and of large frame and masculine features. Her manner was
dignified and well-bred, and she was possessed of abundant
self-reliance, ready resource, and, as must be said, of clever artifice
as well, where artifice was necessary to the accomplishment of a
purpose. Her abode, though plainly and cheaply furnished, was a picture
of neatness and such comfort as she could afford to give it; but her
means were only what could be derived from dressmaking, taking a lodger
or two, and at times teaching a few small children.
This state of affairs dawned upon Poe as he slowly recovered from his
fever-dreams; and he again became aware of the strong necessity of
further exertion on his part. Mrs. Clemm would not allow him to go to a
hospital. Probably she feared to lose him. In some degree, isolated from
her other kindred, she had in her loneliness found a son, and the
pertinacity with which she thenceforth clung to him was something
remarkable.
Poe soon resumed his weary search for employment, but for some time
without success. In his hours of enforced idleness at home he found
employment in teaching his little cousin, Virginia, a pretty and
affectionate child of ten years, who, however, was fonder of a walk or a
romp with him than of her lessons. She was devoted to her handsome
cousin, and having hitherto lived with her mother and with few or no
playmates or companions, soon learned to depend upon him for all
pleasure or amusement. They called each other both then and ever after,
"Buddie" and "Sissy," while Mrs. Clemm was "Muddie" to both.
Of this period of Poe's life in Baltimore, Dr. Snodgrass, a literary
Bohemian of the time, has given us glimpses:
"In Baltimore, his chief resort was the Widow Meagher's place, an
inexpensive but respectable eating-house, with a bar attached and a room
where the customers could indulge in a smoke or a social game of cards.
This was frequented chiefly by printers and employees of shipping
offices. Poe was a great favorite with the Widow Meagher, a kindly old
Irish woman. On entering there you would generally find him seated
behind her oyster counter, at which she presided; himself as silent as
an oyster, grave and retiring. Knowing him to be a poet, she addressed
him always by the old Irish title of _Bard_, and by this name he was
here known. It was, "Bard, have a nip;" "Bard, take a hand." Whenever
anything particularly pleased the old woman's fancy, she would request
Poe to put it in "poethry," and I have seen many of these little pieces
which appeared to me more worthy of preservation than some included in
his published works.
It happened that Poe one evening, in his wanderings about the streets,
stopped to read a copy of _The Evening Visitor_ exposed for sale, and
had his attention attracted by the offer of a purse of one hundred
dollars for the best original story to be submitted to that journal
anonymously. Remembering his rejected manuscripts, he at once hastened
home and, making them into a neat parcel, dispatched them to the office
of the _Visitor_, though with little or no hope of their meeting with
acceptance.
His feelings may therefore be imagined when he shortly received a letter
informing him that the prize of one hundred dollars had been awarded to
his story of "The Gold Bug," and desiring him to come to the office of
the _Visitor_ and receive the money.
It was on this occasion that Poe made the acquaintance of Mr. J. P.
Kennedy, author of "_Swallow Barn_," who proved such a true friend to
him in time of need. Mr. Kennedy says he recognized in the thin, pale,
shabbily dressed but neatly groomed young man a gentleman, and also that
he was starving. He invited him frequently to his table, presented him
with a suit of clothes and, seeing how feeble he was, gave him the use
of a horse for the exercise which he so much needed. He also obtained
for him some employment in the office of the _Evening Visitor_, whose
editor, Mr. Wilmer, accepted several stories from his pen; and it was
now, evidently, that Poe decided upon literature as a profession.
Under these favoring conditions Poe rapidly recovered his health and
spirits. Mr. Wilmer, who saw a good deal of him at this time, says that
when their office work was done they would often walk out together into
the suburbs, generally accompanied by Virginia, who would never be left
behind. At the office he was punctual, industrious and his work
satisfactory. In all his association with him he never saw him under the
influence of intoxicants or knew him to drink except once, moderately,
when he opened a bottle of wine for a visitor.
I once clipped from a Baltimore paper the following article by a
reporter to whom the story was related by "a lively and comely old
lady," herself its heroine. I give it as an illustration of the easy
confidence with which Poe, even in his youth, sought the acquaintance of
women who attracted his attention: