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Authors: Peter Ackroyd
Tags: Autobiography
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trace of vaudeville in his performance.
Poe's humour was, at the best of times, somewhat laboured. He often verged upon facetiousness, and delighted in what can only be called gallows humour. He only ever approached wit in his scathing reviews of other writers, where an almost Wildean note emerges. His principal gift was for sarcasm, an effortless tone of superiority not unmixed with contempt. He also enjoyed “hoaxing,” with accounts of imaginary voyages to the icy regions and of trips to the moon; there is in fact a serious argument that he was “hoaxing” in his tales of horror, deliberately piling the terror onto a gullible public. “The Black Cat” and “The Tell-Tale Heart” are also exercises in burlesque.
• • •
In March 1834 John Allan died and, as Poe expected, left nothing in his will to his erstwhile foster child. Yet anticipation did not necessarily soften the blow. “I am thrown entirely upon my own resources,” he told Kennedy, “with no profession, and very few friends.” Throughout his life Poe continually complained about friendlessness, as if somehow it emphasised his orphan status. There had beena time when Poe had hoped, or even expected, to receive a large inheritance from his guardian. If Frances Allan had lived, he might have gained the entire estate. But in fact he was consigned to a life of penury and, as always, he harboured grief and resentment at being so unluckily and unnaturally cast away.
In addition the publication of
Tales of the Folio Club
had come to nothing, foundering on the reluctance of publishers to take on a volume of short stories by an American writer. Indigenous writers were at a grave disadvantage during this period. They survived only by taking other professions, such as diplomacy and education, or by relying upon an independent income. The cultural palm was given to the English, but, more important, books from England could be pirated and reprinted at no cost at all. There was no copyright legislation in existence. To pay a native writer, for what could be appropriated free of charge from another country, seemed to many publishers to be an unnecessary expense. So Poe suffered. He was one of the first truly professional writers in American literary history, but he was in a marketplace where none came to buy. It has been estimated that the total income from all of his books, over a period of twenty years, was approximately three hundred dollars.
In the unhappy year of 1834, when Poe was twenty-five, there were reports of his suffering a heart attack, of his being incarcerated in a local jail, and of his being employed for a time as a bricklayer or as a lithographer. None of these stories can be substantiated. It can be confirmed,however, that he applied for a post as schoolteacher in the spring of 1835.
A letter to Kennedy, asking for assistance, survives. Kennedy, still one of the editors of the
Baltimore Saturday Visiter,
invited Poe to dinner, after receiving his letter of solicitation, but Poe had to decline on the very good grounds that he had nothing suitable to wear. He only had the one shabby black suit that he donned on all occasions. Kennedy realised at once the extent of the young man's penury. He gave him clothing, afforded him free access to his table, and even lent him a horse for periodic exercise. He lifted him “from the very verge of despair.”
Kennedy performed a further favour for Poe in the spring of 1835. He gave him what Poe called “my first start in the literary world,” without which “I should not at this moment be among the living.” Kennedy recommended him to the editor of the newly established
Southern Literary Messenger,
Thomas Willis White, whose offices were in Richmond. It was the best possible introduction for an aspiring writer. Kennedy advised White that Poe was
“very
poor,” and he counselled the editor to accept articles from the talented young man. Poe sent one of his tales of terror, “Berenice;” it was
Poe's humour was, at the best of times, somewhat laboured. He often verged upon facetiousness, and delighted in what can only be called gallows humour. He only ever approached wit in his scathing reviews of other writers, where an almost Wildean note emerges. His principal gift was for sarcasm, an effortless tone of superiority not unmixed with contempt. He also enjoyed “hoaxing,” with accounts of imaginary voyages to the icy regions and of trips to the moon; there is in fact a serious argument that he was “hoaxing” in his tales of horror, deliberately piling the terror onto a gullible public. “The Black Cat” and “The Tell-Tale Heart” are also exercises in burlesque.
• • •
In March 1834 John Allan died and, as Poe expected, left nothing in his will to his erstwhile foster child. Yet anticipation did not necessarily soften the blow. “I am thrown entirely upon my own resources,” he told Kennedy, “with no profession, and very few friends.” Throughout his life Poe continually complained about friendlessness, as if somehow it emphasised his orphan status. There had beena time when Poe had hoped, or even expected, to receive a large inheritance from his guardian. If Frances Allan had lived, he might have gained the entire estate. But in fact he was consigned to a life of penury and, as always, he harboured grief and resentment at being so unluckily and unnaturally cast away.
In addition the publication of
Tales of the Folio Club
had come to nothing, foundering on the reluctance of publishers to take on a volume of short stories by an American writer. Indigenous writers were at a grave disadvantage during this period. They survived only by taking other professions, such as diplomacy and education, or by relying upon an independent income. The cultural palm was given to the English, but, more important, books from England could be pirated and reprinted at no cost at all. There was no copyright legislation in existence. To pay a native writer, for what could be appropriated free of charge from another country, seemed to many publishers to be an unnecessary expense. So Poe suffered. He was one of the first truly professional writers in American literary history, but he was in a marketplace where none came to buy. It has been estimated that the total income from all of his books, over a period of twenty years, was approximately three hundred dollars.
In the unhappy year of 1834, when Poe was twenty-five, there were reports of his suffering a heart attack, of his being incarcerated in a local jail, and of his being employed for a time as a bricklayer or as a lithographer. None of these stories can be substantiated. It can be confirmed,however, that he applied for a post as schoolteacher in the spring of 1835.
A letter to Kennedy, asking for assistance, survives. Kennedy, still one of the editors of the
Baltimore Saturday Visiter,
invited Poe to dinner, after receiving his letter of solicitation, but Poe had to decline on the very good grounds that he had nothing suitable to wear. He only had the one shabby black suit that he donned on all occasions. Kennedy realised at once the extent of the young man's penury. He gave him clothing, afforded him free access to his table, and even lent him a horse for periodic exercise. He lifted him “from the very verge of despair.”
Kennedy performed a further favour for Poe in the spring of 1835. He gave him what Poe called “my first start in the literary world,” without which “I should not at this moment be among the living.” Kennedy recommended him to the editor of the newly established
Southern Literary Messenger,
Thomas Willis White, whose offices were in Richmond. It was the best possible introduction for an aspiring writer. Kennedy advised White that Poe was
“very
poor,” and he counselled the editor to accept articles from the talented young man. Poe sent one of his tales of terror, “Berenice;” it was
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