VIRGINIA's ILLNESS.
In all this time of which we have spoken, embracing a period of several
years, Mrs. Clemm and her daughter continued their quiet life at the
cottage, the former doing what she could toward the support and comfort
of the family. But a great affliction was to befall them, in the
dangerous illness of Virginia, now in her twenty-first year, who had the
misfortune, while singing, to break a small blood-vessel. She had
already developed signs of consumption, and from this time forth
remained more or less an invalid, subject to occasional hemorrhages,
but, from all accounts, losing none of her characteristic cheerfulness
and light-heartedness.
Poe was at this time still engaged in the editorship _of Graham's
Magazine_, and it is now that we begin to hear of him in the character
of "a devoted husband, watching beside the sick bed of an idolized
wife," with which the world is familiar. Certainly the condition of the
helpless creature who so clung to him, and the real danger which
threatened her, was calculated to awaken all the tenderness of his
nature.
"She could not bear the slightest exposure," wrote Mr. Harris in _Hearth
and Home_, "all needed the utmost care and all those conveniences as to
apartment and surroundings which are so important in the case of an
invalid. And yet the room where she lay for weeks, hardly able to
breathe except as she was fanned, was a little place with the ceiling so
low over the narrow bed that her head almost touched it."
Mr. Graham tells how he saw Poe "hovering around his wife's couch with
fond fear and tender anxiety, _shuddering visibly_ at her slightest
cough;" and mentions his driving out with them one summer day, and of
the husband's "watchful eyes eagerly bent on the slightest change in
that beloved face."
Another literary friend of Poe's who visited the family in this time of
trial, Mr. Clarke, tells of his once taking his little daughter with
him, knowing Virginia to be fond of the companionship of children; and
as a proof of the latter's light-heartedness relates how the little girl
was induced to sing a comic song, which Virginia received with "peal
after peal of merry laughter."
The reminiscences of these kindly gentlemen who, at Poe's own request,
called upon him, regarding the poet and his family, are of the most
flattering character. Poe in his own home was the perfection of graceful
courtesy, and Mrs. Clemm amiably dignified, with a countenance when
speaking of "her children" almost "saint-like in its expression of
patience and motherly devotion." Of Virginia, Mr. Harris says, "She
looked hardly more than fourteen, was soft, fair and girlish." He says,
furthermore, that Mrs. Poe, whom he had not known previous to her
misfortune, had up to that time "possessed a voice of marvelous
sweetness and a harp and piano," which leads an English writer to
represent the poet's wife as "an accomplished musician, with the voice
of a St. Cecilia." This is a specimen of the exaggeration to which
"biographers" sometimes lend themselves, to be taken up by those who
follow and received by the public as fact.
Poe now again interested himself in getting up a magazine, to which he
gave the name of "_The Stylus_" and there seemed an even more brilliant
prospect than before of its success. He wrote a prospectus, and went to
Washington to obtain subscriptions from President Tyler and the
Cabinet, but was taken ill, the result, it was said, of his meeting with
a convivial acquaintance; and Mrs. Clemm being notified thereof, on his
return to Philadelphia met him at the railroad station and took him home
in safety from further possible temptation. Owing partly to this
indiscretion, _The Stylus_ was again a failure; and the matter being
known throughout the city, did not add to Poe's personal reputation.
Now, also, just as for the first time, Poe began to be mentioned in the
character of a devoted husband, there arose a widespread scandal
concerning a handsome and wealthy lady whom, it was said, he accompanied
to Saratoga, and who was paying his expenses there. But while the story
appears to have been so far true, it certainly admits of a different
construction from that given by the gossips. Poe was at this time in
wretched health, hardly able to attend to his literary work, and in
consequence the financial condition of himself and family was
deplorable. What more probable than that some kind friend of his, seeing
the absolute necessity to him of a change, should have invited him to be
her guest at the quiet summer resort near Saratoga to which she was
going? It was a more delicate and, for him, a safer way than to have
supplied him with money on his own account. The lady, it was said, had
her own little turn-out, in which they daily drove into Saratoga; and
this exercise, with the mineral waters, the nourishing food and other
advantages of the place, doubtless secured to him the benefits which his
friend desired.
It is impossible to believe that Poe could so have defied public opinion
as to have voluntarily given cause for a scandal of this nature, for
which the gossip of a public watering place should alone be held
responsible.
Poe now again applied himself to his writing, but, for some reason, with
but little success. In desperation he hastily finished the manuscript of
_The Raven_ and offered it to Graham, who, not satisfied as to its
merits as a poem, declined it, but expressed a willingness to abide by
the decision of a number of the office employees, clerks and others,
who, being called in, sat solemnly attentive and critical while Poe read
to them the poem. Their decision was against it, but on learning of the
poet's penniless condition and that, as he confessed, he had not money
to buy medicine for his sick wife, they made up a subscription of
fifteen dollars, which was given, not to Poe himself, but to Mrs. Clemm,
"for the use of the sick lady."
This account, given in a New York paper by one of the office committee
many years after the poet's death, has been denied by a Mr. William
Johnston, who was at that time an office-boy in Graham's employ. He says
that he was present at the reading of the poem, and that no subscription
was taken up. This may have been done subsequently, without his
knowledge. Of Poe, he spoke in the most enthusiastic terms of admiration
and affection, as the kindest and most courteous gentleman that he had
ever met with; prompt and industrious at his work, and having always a
pleasant word and smile for himself. He never, in the course of Poe's
engagement with Graham, saw him otherwise than perfectly sober.