Poe’s Early Years

Edgar Poe was born in Boston on January 19, 1809, the child of David and Eliza Poe. The following year, David Poe abandoned his family. In 1811, Eliza Poe’s health began to fail, possibly due to tuberculosis, and she died that December. Orphaned before his third birthday, Poe was taken in by John and Frances Allan of Richmond; his brother and his sister went to live with other families. Although the Allans never formally adopted him, they gave him the name Edgar Allan Poe.

John Allan emphasized education, funding boarding school for Poe during the years the Allans lived in England (1815-1820); he sent Poe to the University of Virginia upon the family’s return to Richmond. William Wertenbaker, the University’s Librarian, later recalled a sober, quiet, and orderly young man whom he never witnessed “in the slightest degree under the influence of intoxicating liquors.” Allan’s paltry financial support—a circumstance that caused increasing friction between the two men—led Poe deep into debt, until he could no longer remain at the University. Many years later, Rufus Griswold’s vindictive and inaccurate obituary of Poe would state that Poe was expelled for his dissolute ways.

Upon Poe’s return to Richmond, he and Allan continued to quarrel, until Poe left the Allan home for good and moved to Boston. Finding it difficult to support himself as a writer, he enlisted first in the Army and then entered the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. Neither of these ventures succeeded, and Poe’s life-long pattern of financial instability was firmly established. 26 A playbill for a performance of Mysteries of the Castle and He Wou’d Be a Soldier at the Theater Royal, Covent Garden, England, 1795 Playbills and Programs Collection Poe’s mother Eliza Arnold Poe was the daughter of English actors. Her mother Elizabeth, “Mrs. Arnold,” is listed as here as one of the players in this London performance. Eliza and her mother sailed to America in late 1795. 156, 78

Sir William Charles Ross Eliza Poe, 19th century Koester Poe Collection Portrait of Eliza Poe on ivory, date unknown The Richard Gimbel Collection Rare Book Department, Free Library of Philadelphia

Poe’s mother Eliza Arnold Poe made her stage debut at the age of nine. In her brief life, she played nearly three hundred roles and performed in theaters in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Richmond. She acted until a few days before his birth and resumed work three weeks afterward. Theater reviewers praised her talents and often noted her petite figure and large, dark eyes. Onstage, she sang, danced, and played dramatic roles—such as Shakespeare’s Juliet and Ophelia. She died at the age of twenty-four.

Ross based his portrait on the only known likeness of Eliza Poe, displayed here. This miniature was left to Edgar after her death and likely was in his possession when he died in 1849. 1, 27 The libretto for Michael Kelly’s Cinderella, or The little glass slipper: A grand allegorical pantomimic spectacle. (Boston: Printed for John West, 1807) Inscribed “D. Poe” Koester Poe Collection John Tobin’s The curfew: a play, in five acts (London: Printed for Richard Phillips, 1807) Inscribed N. L. Usher, with contents note on the cover in Edgar Allan Poe’s hand, and a change in the dramatis personae in David Poe’s hand Koester Poe Collection Poe’s father and mother both worked as touring actors. Eliza Poe’s talents often outshone her husband’s when they performed together. Reviewing one of her performances, a critic noted that “Mrs. Poe’s name is a brilliant gem in the theatric crown” and claimed that no other actress “has received more than she of the public applause.” David’s performances, however, earned a reputation for dullness: “a

footman,” one New York review explained, “is the extent of what he ought to attempt.” 25 H. Clarke’s Fabulæ Æsopi selectæ, or, Select fables of Æsop: with an English translation, more literal than any yet extant, designed for the readier instruction of beginners in the Latin tongue (Baltimore: Joseph Cushing, 1817) Koester Poe Collection The inscription in this copy reads “Edgar A. Poe’s copy,” in what appears to be the writer’s juvenile signature. Poe later excelled in Latin as a student at the University of Virginia. His short stay at the university is documented on the wall nearby. 165 An official copy of the proceedings of the trial of Cadet E. A. Poe of the United States Military Academy, January 1, 1831 John Henry Ingram’s Poe Collection Special Collections, University of Virginia Library Deliberately flaunting rules at West Point in order to get court-martialed, Poe was charged with “gross neglect of duty” and “disobedience of orders.” He pled guilty to the charges and was discharged from the Academy. Wall: 75 Edgar Allan Poe’s entry in the University of Virginia matriculation book, 1825-1855 University Archives, Special Collections, University of Virginia Library Digital Reproduction

This book documents Poe’s enrollment in February 1826, one year after the first session of classes at Thomas Jefferson’s university

commenced. Although no records document any meeting between the two men, Jefferson made visits to the university to supervise progress on buildings—such as the nearly complete Rotunda—until a month before his death in July 1826.

Poe’s entry is at the very bottom of the page; he was one of 177 students that year. 76 A list of library fines, including Edgar Allan Poe’s overdue fine, August 11, 1826 University Archives, Special Collections, University of Virginia Library As a student, Poe borrowed library books on ancient and American history and two volumes of Voltaire. This list indicates that Poe’s failure to return Charles Rollin’s Ancient History on time resulted in a sixty-cent fine. 79 A letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, January 3, 1831 Valentine Richmond History Center, Richmond, Virginia Digital Reproduction Writing from West Point, Poe outlines the costs of attending the University of Virginia, demonstrating how it would have been impossible to avoid getting into debt. Railing against Allan’s parsimony, Poe blames Allan for all of the “difficulties in which I was involved in Charlottesville.” He also writes of having “no one on Earth who cared for me, or loved me.” After several years of increasingly bitter difficulties, the rift between the two men became irreparable. 100 A page from Alexandre Dumas’s autograph manuscript account of Poe’s visit to Paris, date unknown The Richard Gimbel Collection

Rare Book Department, Free Library of Philadelphia Scholars have been baffled by the lack of any documentary evidence for Poe’s whereabouts in 1832. One theory is that Poe traveled to Paris. Dumas compellingly relates an account of Poe as his house guest in Paris in 1832. The French author’s description of Poe bears an uncanny similarity to Poe’s fictional detective Auguste Dupin:

Poe had one curious idiosyncrasy; he liked the night better than the day. Indeed his love of the darkness amounted to a passion. . . . As soon as day began to break, he hermetically sealed up the windows of his room and lit a couple of candles. In the midst of this pale illumination he worked. . . . But as soon as the clock told him that the real darkness had come, he would come in for me, take me out with him if I was there. . . . In these rambles, I could not help remarking with wonder and admiration. . . . the extraordinary faculty of analysis exhibited by my friend. . . . He made no secret of the enjoyment he derived from it and would remark with a smile of proud satisfaction, that, for him, every man had an open window where his heart was.

Doré’s Raven

The French illustrator, painter, and sculptor Gustave Doré established his reputation in 1854 when he produced a series of illustrations for Rabelais; over the course of his career, he illustrated many monuments of world literature, such as Dante’s Divine Comedy, La Fontaine’s Fables, Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” and Milton’s Paradise Lost. His wood engravings are distinctive for their grand romantic tone, monochromatic palette, and heavy contrast between light and shadow.

At the end of his career, Doré accepted his first and only American commission, a series of illustrations of Poe’s “The Raven,” published just after his death. The resulting volume downplays the raven, emphasizing instead “the enigma of death and the hallucination of an inconsolable soul.” The original drawing displayed on the wall here was transformed into a wood engraving to be printed for this edition.

187, 188 Gustave Doré’s illustrated edition of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven (New York: Harper Brothers, 1884) T. E. Hanley Collection Gustave Doré’s illustrated edition of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven (New York: Harper Brothers, 1884) Erle Stanley Gardner Collection Wall: 122 Gustave Doré (1832-1883) An illustration for Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven (New York: Harper Brothers, 1884), ca. 1883 Ink, wash, and white pigment on paper mounted on board Koester Poe Collection 184 Oscar Edward Cesare (1885-1948) A portrait of Edgar Allan Poe, 1926 Charcoal and wash drawing Special Collections, University of Virginia Library Wall grouping: Haunted mind items: **Bryan: please note that there are two versions of each summary label, one for each end of the wall. Please print both, as one tells you to look right and the other tells you to look left. TALES OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE

Many of Poe’s most famous protagonists perform an exquisitely gratifying murder and are subsequently haunted by their acts until the truth is revealed. Some “unintentionally” reveal their guilt through oversight, as in the famous tale “The Black Cat,” while others are incapable of keeping their evil acts to themselves and actively confess.

Poe called the temptation to confess one’s guilt the “imp of the perverse.” In the story of that name, a murderer has carried out the perfect crime, but walking down the street one day, he finds himself compelled by the imp—who takes physical form in the crowd—to speak his guilt:

At first I made a strong effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul. I whistled—I laughed aloud—I walked vigorously—faster and still faster. At length I ran. I felt a maddening desire to shriek aloud. Every succeeding wave of thought overwhelmed me with new terror—for, alas! I understood to well that to think, in my condition, was to be undone. I still quickened my steps. I bounded like a madman through the crowded thoroughfares. But now the populace took alarm and pursued. Then—then, I felt the consummation of my Fate. Could I have torn out my tongue I would have done it. But a rough voice from some member of the crowd resounded in my ears, and a rougher grasp seized me by the arm. I turned—I gasped for breath. For a moment I experienced all the pangs of suffocation—I became blind, and deaf, and giddy—and at this instant it was no mortal hand, I knew, that struck me violently with a broad and massive palm upon the back. At that blow the long-imprisoned secret burst forth from my soul.

Illustrations from four stories of guilt, revelation, and confession are shown on the wall to your left. TALES OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE

Many of Poe’s most famous protagonists perform an exquisitely gratifying murder and are subsequently haunted by their acts until the truth is revealed. Some “unintentionally” reveal their guilt through oversight, as in the famous tale “The Black Cat,” while others are incapable of keeping their evil acts to themselves and actively confess.

Poe called the temptation to confess one’s guilt the “imp of the perverse.” In the story of that name, a murderer has carried out the perfect crime, but walking down the street one day, he finds himself compelled by the imp—who takes physical form in the crowd—to speak his guilt:

At first I made a strong effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul. I whistled—I laughed aloud—I walked vigorously—faster and still faster. At length I ran. I felt a maddening desire to shriek aloud. Every succeeding wave of thought overwhelmed me with new terror—for, alas! I understood to well that to think, in my condition, was to be undone. I still quickened my steps. I bounded like a madman through the crowded thoroughfares. But now the populace took alarm and pursued. Then—then, I felt the consummation of my Fate. Could I have torn out my tongue I would have done it. But a rough voice from some member of the crowd resounded in my ears, and a rougher grasp seized me by the arm. I turned—I gasped for breath. For a moment I experienced all the pangs of suffocation—I became blind, and deaf, and giddy—and at this instant it was no mortal hand, I knew, that struck me violently with a broad and massive palm upon the back. At that blow the long-imprisoned secret burst forth from my soul.

Illustrations of four stories of guilt, revelation, and confession are shown on the wall to your right. 111 William Sharp (1900-1961) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Black Cat” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (New York: Heritage, 1941) Aquatint etching Koester Poe Collection 139 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Imp of the Perverse” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection 112

William Sharp (1900-1961) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (New York: Heritage, 1941) Aquatint etching Koester Poe Collection 141 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection

TALES OF CLAUSTROPHOBIA

Walls close in on the characters in many of Poe’s tales—and on the reader too: Poe’s claustrophobic stories are carefully structured to provoke a sense of increasing confinement. In “The Pit and the Pendulum,” the reader experiences firsthand the narrator’s wild swings between panic, rationality, and submission in his terror chamber, with its encroaching pendulum and shrinking walls. In “The Cask of Amontillado,” the reader follows along uncomfortably as the murderer first gleefully, then anxiously, narrates his successful effort to entomb his living victim behind a brick wall underground.

Premature burial was a subject of great interest in the nineteenth century and Poe’s tales on the subject did not seek to quell the public’s fear of being buried alive when in a cataleptic state. “The Premature Burial,” narrated by a character obsessed by his fear of being buried alive, opens with “true” stories, including one of a woman in Baltimore who appeared dead to all around her:

The lady was deposited in her family vault, which, for three subsequent years, was undisturbed. At the expiration of this term, it was opened for the reception of a sarcophagus; — but, alas! how fearful a shock awaited the husband, who, personally, threw open the door. As its portals swung outwardly back, some white-apparelled object fell rattling within his arms. It was the skeleton of his wife in her yet unmoulded shroud.

A careful investigation rendered it evident that she had revived within two days after her entombment—that her struggles within the coffin had caused it to fall from a ledge, or shelf, to the floor, where it was so broken as to permit her escape….On the uppermost of the steps which led down into the dread chamber, was a large fragment of the coffin, with which, it seemed, that she had endeavored to arrest attention, by striking the iron door. While thus occupied, she probably swooned, or possibly died, through sheer terror; and, in falling, her shroud became entangled in some iron-work which projected interiorly. Thus she remained, and thus she rotted, erect.

Illustrations of four claustrophobic tales are shown on the wall to your right.

TALES OF CLAUSTROPHOBIA

Walls close in on the characters in many of Poe’s tales—and on the reader too: Poe’s claustrophobic stories are carefully structured to provoke a sense of increasing confinement. In “The Pit and the Pendulum,” the reader experiences firsthand the narrator’s wild swings between panic, rationality, and submission in his terror chamber. In “The Cask of Amontillado,” the reader follows along uncomfortably as the murderer first gleefully, then anxiously, narrates his successful effort to entomb his living victim behind a brick wall underground.

Premature burial was a subject of great interest in the nineteenth century and Poe’s tales on the subject did not seek to quell the public’s fear of being buried alive when in a cataleptic state. “The Premature Burial” opens with “true stories,” including one of a woman in Baltimore who appeared dead to all around her:

The lady was deposited in her family vault, which, for three subsequent years, was undisturbed. At the expiration of this term, it was opened for the reception of a sarcophagus; — but, alas! how fearful a shock awaited the husband, who, personally, threw open the door. As its portals swung outwardly back, some white-apparelled object fell rattling within his arms. It was the skeleton of his wife in her yet unmoulded shroud.

A careful investigation rendered it evident that she had revived within two days after her entombment—that her struggles within the coffin had caused it to fall from a ledge, or shelf, to the floor, where it was so broken as to permit her escape . . . .

Illustrations of four claustrophobic tales are shown on the wall to your left. 114 William Sharp (1900-1961) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Premature Burial” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (New York: Heritage, 1941) Aquatint etching

Koester Poe Collection 138 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Premature Burial” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Watercolor and ink Koester Poe Collection 135 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection 182 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Watercolor and ink Koester Poe Collection 127 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection 137 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939)

An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Watercolor and ink Koester Poe Collection TALES OF HALLUCINATION In many of Poe’s tales, the troubles that reside in the mind of a character produce hallucinations in the physical world—ghostly imaginings that torment and sometimes kill the character at the story’s conclusion. The hallucinations represented in the stories shown here are varied in kind—produced by guilt or drugs, experienced by protagonists or bystanders, and told in a range of styles, from the gothic “Ligeia” and the highly psychological “William Wilson” to the historical “Masque of the Red Death” and the allegorical “Metzengerstein.” In all cases, the visual richness of hallucination is an ideal starting point for creative illustration. Illustrations of four stories featuring hallucinations are shown on the wall to your right. TALES OF HALLUCINATION In many of Poe’s tales, the troubles that reside in the mind of a character produce hallucinations in the physical world—ghostly imaginings that torment and sometimes kill the character at the story’s conclusion. The hallucinations represented in the stories shown here are varied in kind—produced by guilt or drugs, experienced by protagonists or bystanders, and told in a range of styles, from the gothic “Ligeia” and the highly psychological “William Wilson” to the historical “Masque of the Red Death” and the allegorical “Metzengerstein.” In all cases, the visual richness of hallucination is an ideal starting point for creative illustration. Illustrations of four stories featuring hallucinations are shown on the wall to your left. 130

Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “William Wilson” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection 142 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ligeia” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Watercolor and ink Koester Poe Collection 145 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Metzengerstein” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Watercolor and ink Koester Poe Collection 148 William Sharp (1900-1961) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Metzengerstein” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (New York: Heritage, 1941) Aquatint etching Koester Poe Collection 136 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection

HAUNTED SPACES

The castle at the center of “The Fall of the House of Usher” has understandably captured the attention of many artists. The three illustrations shown here attempt to capture Poe’s highly wrought, personified opening image of the castle, which is more than just the setting for this gothic tale. The house itself has human features, and like a sickened mind, holds unspeakable images that are revealed in the course of the tale:

I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. . . . I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitter lapse into everyday life—the hideous dropping off of veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher?

Also shown here is Charles Mielatz’s etching of Poe’s cottage in Fordham, New York, a popular subject for commercial printers in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. While most artists chose to present the cottage as a pastoral subject, Mielatz presents Poe’s home as if it appeared in one of his tales. As Poe was wont to do, Mielatz manipulates the gaze of the viewer, who appears to be watching the cottage recede from view as he falls into an abyss. HAUNTED SPACES

The castle at the center of “The Fall of the House of Usher” has understandably captured the attention of many artists. The three

illustrations shown here attempt to capture Poe’s highly wrought, personified opening image of the castle, which is more than just the setting for this gothic tale. The house itself has human features, and like a sickened mind, holds unspeakable images that are revealed in the course of the tale:

I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. . . . I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitter lapse into everyday life—the hideous dropping off of veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher?

Also shown here is Charles Mielatz’s etching of Poe’s cottage in Fordham, New York, a popular subject for commercial printers in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. While most artists chose to present the cottage as a pastoral subject, Mielatz presents Poe’s home as if it appeared in one of his tales. As Poe was wont to do, Mielatz manipulates the gaze of the viewer, who appears to be watching the cottage recede from view as he falls into an abyss. 143 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) An illustration of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher” for Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Watercolor and ink Koester Poe Collection 157

Robert Lawson (1892-1957) The House of Usher, undated Etching Koester Poe Collection 158 W. H. Wallace The House of Usher, undated Etching Koester Poe Collection 117 Charles Frederick William Mielatz (1864-1919) Poe’s Cottage at Fordham, 1906 Etching Koester Poe Collection Popular Poe Poe’s influence on varied and broad swaths of popular culture—hard-boiled detective fiction, horror and suspense films, song lyrics, crime-scene-analysis dramas, graphic novels—seems to prove Allen Ginsberg’s claim that “everything leads to Poe.” Immortalized in the minds of readers and fans—as well as in television, film, t-shirts and collectibles—Poe continues to fascinate and inspire. 164 Unidentified artist Bas-relief portrait of Poe, undated Carved abalone shell Koester Poe Collection 202, 209

A first-day-issue Edgar Allan Poe stamp and collectible envelope sent to collector William Koester, 1949 Koester Poe Collection A sheet of Edgar Allan Poe Bicentennial Stamps, 2009 200 The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album (1967)

In their song “I Am the Walrus,” The Beatles declared, “Man you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.” The band also made him a member of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, placing him in a prominent position on the memorable album cover.

Many other popular musicians have paid homage to Poe: Alan Parsons—famous for his engineering of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon—set Poe’s works, such as “The Tell-Tale Heart” and “The Raven.” In 2003, Lou Reed released a concept album, The Raven, featuring musical and spoken interpretations of Poe’s works by various actors, including Steve Buscemi and Willem Dafoe. 203 The Pit and the Pendulum and other suspense stories of Edgar Allan Poe (The Classics Illustrated, 1977) Peterson Comics Collection The Classics Illustrated series have long attracted a young audience to the classics with its comic-book adaptations of literary works. A total of 169 titles have been printed over the decades, including Moby Dick, The Iliad, and Hamlet. 206 Baltimore Ravens decal, ca. 2008 Professional football seems a curious arena for any literary references—much less references to Poe. The poet’s primary

association with Baltimore is that he died and is buried in that city; he was living in New York City when he composed “The Raven.” Nevertheless, Baltimore residents voted to name their NFL team after Poe’s eerie bird. The Ravens have an official team mascot, a six-foot raven named Poe, who leads the team onto the field during home games and cheers them on. 198, 201, 207, 205, 204 Edgar Allan Poe collectible cigarette card and booklet packed in Duke’s Cigarettes, undated A shot glass from the Poe Museum, ca. 1990s “Li’l Edgar Allan Poe” by Accoutrements: Outfitters of Popular Culture, undated “Edgar Allan Poe Action Figure” by Accoutrements: Outfitters of Popular Culture, 2004 Poe’s immediately recognizable face has been the subject of absurdly rendered portraits and has graced t-shirts, shot glasses, tote bags, and toys. Perhaps more so than any other American writer’s, the iconic image of Poe, with his sunken eyes and almost deathly pallor, fascinates the public. 208 “Dropout” t-shirt, ca. 2008 Sold at shops in Charlottesville, Virginia, this tee-shirt alludes to Poe’s student days at the University of Virginia. Wall items: 176, 177 A poster advertising Alta Vista Productions’ film Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Terror, directed by Roger Corman, 1962 Hoblitzelle and Interstate Theater Collection

A poster advertising American International Pictures’ The Premature Burial, directed by Roger Corman, 1962 Hoblitzelle and Interstate Theater Collection

In the early 1960s, filmmaker Roger Corman produced several films based on the stories and poems of Edgar Allan Poe. Tales of Terror contained short films of three stories: “Morella,” “The Black Cat,” and “The Case of M. Valdemar.” Vincent Price starred in seven of Corman’s eight Poe films. Corman later said that when he pitched his first Poe project, The Fall of the House of Usher, his producer

didn’t seem too pleased about the choice. “There’s no monster in this movie,” he said. I didn’t want to lose the project so I did a bit of quick thinking. “The house,” I said. “The house is the monster.” I suppose he bought that line because we made the film.

The Ransom Center will screen three of Corman’s Poe films, and three other landmark cinematic adapations, while the exhibition is on view; details are available on the Center’s website and in the printed calendars available in the lobby. Illustrations of Poe’s Works

The rich history of illustrating Poe’s works, particularly “The Raven” and the short stories, could easily be the subject of a separate exhibition. Throughout this exhibition are to be found original work by Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac, Gustave Doré, and the largely unknown Irish-American artist James William Carling, whose melodramatic illustrations for The Raven are his only significant work. At their best, Carling’s forty-three drawings (usually displayed together in the Poe Museum in Richmond) capture the darkness and terror of the poem.

Of particular interest is the set of original watercolors and pen and ink drawings by Arthur Rackham, one of the most celebrated illustrators of the last century, who contributed the artwork for an edition of Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination in 1935. These illustrations, which may be seen throughout the exhibition, show Rackham’s particular affinity for the element of the grotesque in Poe.

The Rackham illustrations form part of the Koester Poe Collection at the Ransom Center. 146, 147 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) The dust jacket illustration for Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Charcoal, ink, and gouache Koester Poe Collection The printed dust jacket of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Koester Poe Collection 124, 125 Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) The cloth binding design for Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Koester Poe Collection Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) The title page of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery & Imagination (London: G. Harrap, 1935) Pen and ink Koester Poe Collection 153 Unidentified artist, marked “Lamoureux, Paris” Edgar Poe, undated Etching Koester Poe Collection

186 George Julian Zolnay (1863-1949)

Bust of Edgar Allan Poe, ca. 1899 Koester Poe Collection This bust by the Hungarian artist Zolnay is a replica of a much larger sculpture in the Alderman Library at the University of Virginia. When the original sculpture was unveiled in 1899, fifty years after Poe’s death, the New York Times reported that “the features shown are those of an intellectual man in a state of dejection, with something of pathos in the impression one receives. It is not the Poe of Griswold, but the man more truly drawn for our instruction by Mr. Woodberry.” Woodberry’s biography of Poe was first published in 1885. Hero Wall: [Please print two sets of the following labels: one to mount on each side edge of Hero Wall.] Overall label: The facsimile portraits on this wall are enlargements of frontispieces and illustrations in editions, biographies, and other books by or about Edgar Allan Poe. They are of varying quality and authenticity, and are taken from editions both fine and popular. Viewers might notice the inconsistency in the location of Poe’s hair part, which appears on both the left and the right; this occurs because many of the portraits are based on negative and positive photographic images from a daguerreotype. 211-214 Top row, left to right: 1. Thomas C. Corner’s portrait in Arthur H. Quinn and Richard H.

Hart eds., Edgar Allan Poe: Letters and Documents in the Enoch Pratt Free Library (New York: Scholars’ Facsimiles and Reprints, 1941)

2. Edmund Dulac’s title-page portrait in Edgar Allan Poe’s The Bells

and Other Poems (London: Hodder and Staughton, [1912]) 3. The frontispiece (after the apocryphal Mathew Brady

daguerrotype) in Philip Lindsay’s The Haunted Man: A Portrait of Edgar Allan Poe (London: Hutchinson, [1953])

4. The frontispiece in The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe (New York: W. J. Widdleton, 1880)

215-218 Second row, left to right: 1. Edouard Manet’s frontispiece in Stéphane Mallarmé’s Les Poèmes

d’Edgar Poe (Bruxelles: E. Deman, 1888) 2. The frontispiece (after the “Ultima Thule” daguerrotype) in Poems

of Edgar Allan Poe (New York: Hurst, 1882) 3. The “Cornwell” daguerrotype as used for the frontispiece in

Edwin Gile Rich’s translation of Emile Lauvrière’s The Strange Life and Strange Loves of Edgar Allan Poe (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1935)

4. An apocryphal self-portrait in John Ward Ostrom, ed., The Letters

of Edgar Allan Poe (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1948) 219-222 Third row, left to right 1. Frederick T. Stewart’s frontispiece in Edgar Allan Poe’s Fall of the

House of Usher; Ligiea; The Cask of Amontillado; The Assignation; Ms. Found in a Bottle; The Black Cat; The Gold Bug (New York: Doubleday & McClure, 1898)

2. E. McNight Kauffer’s cover portrait from Arthur Hobson Quinn

and Edward H. O’Neill, eds., The Complete Poems and Stories of Edgar Allan Poe, with Selections from his Critical Writings (New York: Knopf, 1946)

3. The “Stella” daguerrotype as used for the frontispiece in Sherwin

Cody, ed., The Best Tales of Edgar Allan Poe (Chicago: A.C. McClurg, 1903)

4. Hugo Steiner-Prag’s frontispiece by in Louis Untermeyer, ed., Complete Poems of Edgar Allan Poe (New York: Heritage Press, [1943])

223-226 Bottom row, left to right 1. A portrait by Roberts (after John Sartain) in Evert A. Duyckinck

and George L. Duyckinck’s Cyclopaedia of American Literature (New York: Scribner, 1855)

2. A portrait (after Samuel S. Osgood) in John Ward Ostrom, ed., The

Letters of Edgar Allan Poe (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1948)

3. The frontispiece (after Timothy Cole) in J. Montgomery Gambrill,

ed., Selections from Poe (Boston: Ginn, 1907) 4. The cover image (after Robert Anderson) of The Prose Tales of Edgar

Allan Poe (New York: W. J. Widdleton, 1877) Replacement labels (for items in other, larger label document): Poe the Poet

Poe’s earliest published poems were ambitious. Long poems like “Tamerlane” and “Al Aaraaf” are epic in scope, attempts by the young poet to control metaphysical, historical, and philosophical themes beyond his abilities. These and the later poems show the influence of the British Romantic poets, whose works were widely read at the time: Coleridge, Shelley, and most of all, the scandalous Lord Byron. In the last decade of his life, Poe found his voice in the ballad form, producing a haunting body of work that is at once incantatory and almost scientific in its technical precision. No poet was more in love with alliteration and anaphora—the use of repeated consonant and vowel sounds to create a calculated emotional, incantatory effect.

The critical response to Poe’s verse has been marked by ambivalence from the start: while most acknowledge the virtuosity and originality of Poe’s poems, and many note his control of atmosphere and timing, others find his Gothic settings and dramatic themes to be overwrought. 190-196 James Carling (English, 1857-1887) Four illustrations for Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” ca. 1882 The Edgar Allan Poe Museum, Richmond, Virginia As a youth in Liverpool, England, Carling worked as a street pavement artist. He later traveled to America, hoping to achieve fame. At twenty-four, the artist entered a competition to illustrate an edition of “The Raven”—a competition won by the older and more accomplished Gustave Doré. Although lacking Doré’s mastery, Carling’s drawings offer an insightful and strikingly psychological interpretation. His atmospheric images effectively mimic the narrator’s internal torment and madness. 69 Walt Whitman’s “Edgar Poe's Significance,” 1882 Koester Poe Collection Whitman attended Poe’s 1875 reburial ceremony in Baltimore and later published his thoughts in Specimen Days. While Whitman, who celebrates light and fresh air, is in most respects Poe’s polar opposite, he found much to admire. Whitman predictably rejected Poe’s unhealthy “incorrigible propensity toward nocturnal themes” but also respected his lyrical impulse and poetic craft. Critics have discovered traces of Poe’s influence in Whitman’s masterpiece “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking.”