POE AND MRS. OSGOOD.
It was a fortunate day when Mrs. Clemm, hunting about the suburbs of the
great city for a cheap place of abode, discovered the little cottage at
Fordham, a country railroad station some miles from New York.
It was but an humble place at best, an old cottage of four rooms, in
ill-repair; but the rent was low, the situation--on the summit of a
rocky knoll--pleasant, affording fine views of the Harlem river; and
there was pure air, plenty of outdoor space, and that famous cherry
tree, now, in the month of May, in full and fragrant bloom. A few
repairs were made, and Mrs. Clemm's vigorous hands, with the assistance
of soap and water and whitewash, soon transformed the neglected abode
into a miracle of neatness and order. Checked matting hid the worn
parlor floor, and the cheap furniture which they had brought with them
looked better here than ever it had done in the cramped and stuffy
rooms of the city. Outside a neglected rose-bush was trained against the
wall, supplying Virginia with roses in its season. Her room was above
the parlor, at the head of a narrow staircase; a low-ceiled apartment,
with sloping walls and small, square windows; and it was here at a desk
or table near his wife's sick bed that most of Poe's writing was now
done.
In the preceding winter Virginia's health had apparently greatly
improved, and her illness was not of so serious a nature as to confine
her entirely to the house or to interfere with the social or literary
engagements of her husband, who was, as poet, lecturer, editor and
critic, at the zenith of his fame. In this time he had attended the
_soirees_ of Miss Lynch and others of the literary class, once or twice
accompanied by his wife. At these he made the acquaintance of Mrs.
Hewitt, Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith and Mrs. E. F. Ellet, with others of
the "starry sisterhood of poetesses," as they were called by some
poetaster of the day, with each of whom he in succession formed one of
the sentimental platonic friendships to which he was given. All these,
however, were destined to yield to the superior attractions of a sister
poetess, Mrs. Frances Sergeant Osgood, wife of the artist of that name.
Mrs. Osgood, at this time about thirty-years of age, is described by R.
H. Stoddard as "A paragon--not only loved by men, but liked by women as
well." Attractive in person, bright, witty and sweet-natured, she won
even the splenatic Thomas Dunn English and the stoical Greeley, whose
approval of her was as frankly expressed as was his denunciation of the
"ugliness, self-conceit and disagreeableness" of her friend, the
transcendentalist, Margaret Fuller.
Poe, who had written a very flattering notice of Mrs. Osgood's poems--in
return for which she addressed him some lines in the character of
_Israefel_--obtained an introduction and visited her frequently. Also,
at his request, she called upon his wife, and friendly relations were
soon established between them. To her, after Poe's death, we are
indebted for a characteristic picture of the poet and his wife in their
home in Amity street; and which, though almost too well known for
repetition, I will here give as a specimen of his home life:
"It was in his own simple yet poetical home that the character of Edgar
Poe appeared to me in its most beautiful light. Playful, affectionate,
witty, alternately docile and wayward as a petted child, for his young,
gentle and idolized wife and for all who came, he had, even in the midst
of the most harassing literary duties, a kind word, a pleasant smile, a
graceful and courteous attention. At his desk, beneath the romantic
picture of his loved and lost Lenore'[6] patient, assiduous,
uncomplaining, tracing in an exquisitely clear chirography and with
almost superhuman swiftness the lightning thoughts, the rare and radiant
fancies as they flowed through his wonderful brain. For hours I have
listened entranced to his strains of almost celestial eloquence.
[6] A pencil sketch of Mrs. Stanard by Poe himself.
"I recollect one morning toward the close of his residence in this city,
when he seemed unusually gay and light-hearted, Virginia, his sweet
wife, had written me a pressing invitation to come to them, and I, who
never could resist her affectionate summons, and who enjoyed his society
far more in his own home than elsewhere, hastened to Amity street. I
found him just completing his series of papers called "_The Literati of
New York_." 'Now,' said he, displaying in laughing triumph several
little rolls of narrow paper (he always wrote thus for the press), 'I am
going to show you by the difference of length in these the different
degrees of estimation in which I hold all you literary people. In each
of these one of you is rolled up and fully discussed. Come, Virginia,
and help me.' And one by one they unfolded them. At last they came to
one which seemed interminable. Virginia laughingly ran to one corner of
the room with one end and her husband went to the opposite with the
other. 'And whose linked sweetness long drawn out is that?' said I.
'Hear her,' he cried; 'just as if her little vain heart didn't tell her
it's herself.'"
From this account--the exaggerated phrases of which will be noted--it
would appear that a great degree of intimacy existed between Poe and his
fair visitor, when he could in his own home--the two tiny rooms in Amity
street--write "hour after hour" undisturbed by her presence. Virginia
was delighted with her new friend, but Mrs. Clemm, noting these frequent
and lengthy visits, regarded her with a suspicious eye. Too well she
knew of the platonic friendships of her Eddie; but there appeared
something in this affair beyond what was usual, and, in fact, gossip
had already begun to link together their names. Mrs. Osgood herself
seems to have relied upon Mrs. Poe's frequent invitations and fondness
for her society as a shield against meddlesome tongues, but in vain--for
not only were the jealous and vigilant eyes of Poe's mother-in-law bent
upon her, but those of the "starry sisterhood" as well. There was a
flutter and a chatter in the literary dovecote, and at length one of the
starry ones--Mrs. Ellet--concluded it to be her bounden duty to inquire
into the matter. Calling at Fordham one day, in Poe's absence, she and
Mrs. Clemm, who had probably never before met, engaged in a confidential
discussion, in the course of which the irate mother-in-law showed the
visitor a letter from Mrs. Osgood to Poe (one wonders how she got
possession of that letter), the contents of which were so opposed to all
the latter's ideas of propriety that it was clear that something would
have to be done. Eventually two of the starry ones--of whom one was
Margaret Fuller--waited upon Mrs. Osgood, whom they advised to
commission them to demand of Poe the return of her letters, which,
strangely enough, she did, though probably only as a conciliatory
measure. Poe, in his exasperation at this unwarrantable intermeddling,
remarked significantly that "Mrs. Ellet had better come and look after
her own letters;" upon which she sent to demand them. But he meantime
had cut her acquaintance by leaving them at her own door without either
written word or message; very much, we may imagine, as Dean Swift strode
into Vanessa's presence and threw at her feet her letter to Stella.
This was either in May or early June, shortly after their removal to
Fordham. Poe had no idea of allowing this episode to interfere with his
visits to Mrs. Osgood, and the gossip continued, until, to avoid further
annoyance, she left New York and went to Albany on a visit to her
brother-in-law, Dr. Harrington.
On the 12th of June we find Poe writing an affectionate note to his
wife, explaining why he stays away from her that night, and concluding
with:
"Sleep well, and God grant you a peaceful summer with your devoted
"EDGAR."
A few days after this, toward the end of June, he was in Albany, making
passionate love to Mrs. Osgood. In dismay she left that city and went to
Boston, whither he followed her; and again to Lowell and Providence,
giving rise to a widespread scandal, which caused the lady infinite
trouble and distress. But Mrs. Osgood, brilliant, talented and virtuous,
was also kind-hearted to a fault, and where her feelings and sympathies
were appealed to, amiably weak. Instead of indignantly and determinately
rejecting Poe's impassioned love-making, she says she pitied him, argued
with him, appealed to his reason and better feelings, and, in special,
reminded him of his sick wife, who lay dying at home and longing for his
presence. Finally, she returned to Albany; and Poe, ill at a hotel,
wrote urgently to Mrs. Clemm for money to pay his board bill and take
him back to Fordham.