Celebrate Poe

Poe in England, First Poetry

Welcome to the fourth episode of celebratepoe – celebrating the life, times, works, and influence of Edgar Allan Poe – America’s Shakespeare. Let’s get back to the story of Edgar Allan Poe’s early life.

Poe’s foster father, John Allan, took his family to Scotland and England when Poe was six years old to establish a branch of the business in Europe. While in England, Poe attended Manor School at Stoke Newington. Later it became the setting for his story William Wilson.

By the way, Stoke Newington today is a charming English town near London, and the home of actress Jean Marsh of Upstairs, Downstairs.

While we do not know exactly what William Shakespeare would have studied, we do know that a schoolboy who went through the school system in England would have certainly gotten an excellent education. Scholars believe that Shakespeare would have begun school at six in the morning each day and would have finished at five o’clock. School began at seven and finished at four in the winter because of the dark nights. The point is that he received an excellent classical education, and a high school graduate in England would know far more about Latin and Greek than a high school graduate today.

Shakespeare obviously received a great deal of education during his early years, and much of that time was spent learning the classics and various rhetorical devices.

The same could be said about Poe in England – scholars know that the subjects Poe studied included geography, spelling and the Catechism of the Church of England. Stoke Newington was run by the Reverend John Bransby. There is little doubt that Poe took classes in Latin and even Greek because Bransby had quite a reputation as a classical scholar.

During the next entry of celebratepoe, I will talk about the writer continuing his education at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville.

During this entry, I would like to talk about two poems by Poe that were written the writer was very young.

The first is rather short and most Poe scholars believe it is really only a fragment – the contents of the rest of the poem are unknown.

Last night, with many cares & toils oppres’d, Weary, I laid me on a couch to rest.

The second is considerably longer, and scholars believe Poe wrote O Tempora!, O Mores! when he was about sixteen, and some people believe it is thbe earliest of Poe’s writings known to exist.

The poem is actual a satire of a clerk by the name of Pitts who was a clerk in one of the leading fashionable dry goods store of Richmond. Pitts was in love with a youthful belle of the period, who afterwards married a prominent Virginia politician and member of Congress. O, Tempora! O, Mores!” was written chiefly for the ridicule of Pitts in the eyes of certain members of the Virginia Legislature, who were then boarding in the same house with him. Of course, all the people lampooned in the poem are largely forgotten, but the poem remains interesting – largely because it is the earliest known work of America’s Shakespeare.

O, TEMPORA! O, MORES! O, Times! O, Manners! It is my opinion That you are changing sadly your dominion — I mean the reign of manners hath long ceased, For men have none at all, or bad at least; And as for times, altho’ ’tis said by many The “good old times” were far the worst of any, Of which sound doctrine l believe each tittle, Yet still I think these worse than them a little.

I’ve been a thinking — isn’t that the phrase? — I like your Yankee words and Yankee ways — I’ve been a thinking, whether it were best To take things seriously, or all in jest; Whether, with grim Heraclitus of yore, To weep, as he did, till his eyes were sore, Or rather laugh with him, that queer philosopher, Democritus of Thrace, who used to toss over The page of life and grin at the dog-ears, As though he’d say, “Why, who the devil cares?”

This is a question which, oh heaven, withdraw The luckless query from a member’s claw! Instead of two sides, Job [Bob] has nearly eight, Each fit to furnish forth four hours debate. What shall be done? I’ll lay it on the table, And take the matter up when I’m more able, And, in the meantime, to prevent all bother, I’ll neither laugh with one, nor cry with t’other, Nor deal in flatt’ry or aspersions foul, But, taking one by each hand, merely growl.

Ah, growl, say you, my friend, and pray at what? Why, really, sir, I almost had forgot — But, damn it, sir, I deem it a disgrace That things should stare us boldly in the face, And daily strut the street with bows and scrapes, Who would be men by imitating apes. I beg your pardon, reader, for the oath The monkeys make me swear, though something loth; I’m apt to be discursive in my style, But pray be patient; yet a little while Will change me, and as politicians do, I’ll mend my manners and my measures too.

Of all the cities — and I’ve seen no few; For I have travelled, friend, as well as you — I don’t remember one, upon my soul, But take it generally upon the whole, (As members say they like their logick [logic] taken, Because divided, it may chance be shaken) So pat, agreeable and vastly proper As this for a neat, frisky counter-hopper; Here he may revel to his heart’s content, Flounce like a fish in his own element, Toss back his fine curls from their forehead fair, And hop o’er counters with a Vester’s air, Complete at night what he began A.M., And having cheated ladies, dance with them; For, at a ball, what fair one can escape The pretty little hand that sold her tape, Or who so cold, so callous to refuse The youth who cut the ribbon for her shoes!

One of these fish, par excellence the beau — God help me! — it has been my lot to know, At least by sight, for I’m a timid man, And always keep from laughing, if I can; But speak to him, he’ll make you such grimace, Lord! to be grave exceeds the power of face. The hearts of all the ladies are with him, Their bright eyes on his Tom and Jerry brim And dove-tailed coat, obtained at cost; while then Those eyes won’t turn on anything like men.

His very voice is musical delight, His form, once seen, becomes a part of sight; In short, his shirt collar, his look, his tone is The “beau ideal” fancied for Adonis. Philosophers have often held dispute As to the seat of thought in man and brute; For that the power of thought attends the latter My friend, the beau, hath made a settled matter, And spite of all dogmas, current in all ages, One settled fact is better than ten sages.

For he does think, though I am oft in doubt If I can tell exactly what about. Ah, yes! his little foot and ankle trim, ‘Tis there the seat of reason lies in him, A wise philosopher would shake his head, He then, of course, must shake his foot instead. At me, in vengeance, shall that foot be shaken — Another proof of thought, I’m not mistaken — Because to his cat’s eyes I hold a glass, And let him see himself, a proper ass! I think he’ll take this likeness to himself, But if he won’t, he shall, a stupid elf, And, lest the guessing throw the fool in fits, I close the portrait with the name of PITTS.

Edgar Allan Poe was born 199 years ago January 19. I am sure that there are people all over the world who will be remembering his birthday, but I will like to talk briefly about two of the most important events.

On Sunday, January 20, 2008 from 2:00 PM-5:00 PM, the Edgar Allan Poe Museum on 1914 East Main Street in Richmond, Virginia will celebrate the birthday of “America’s Shakespeare” with a grand celebration. Admission to the museum and a dramatic performance in the museum’s Enchanted Garden are free. There is a nominal fee charged for a walking tour of Poe’s Richmond at 2 pm and Shadow’s of Shockoe Ghost tour at 4 pm. There will be cake and punch for all who attend!

And what is billed as the world’s largest Poe Birthday Celebration will be held in Baltimore on Saturday, January 19 and Sunday, January 20, 2008. On Saturday, the doors open at 6PM with the program beginning at 7PM. On Sunday, the doors open at 3:30PM with the program beginning at 4:30PM.

And from their excellent web page -

“For the first time on our stage we present the story That changed the course of literary history by introducing a new literary form…the detective story - The Murders in the Rue Morgue Sarah Helen Whitman, Poe’s former fiancé, makes a rare public appearance where she will discuss her romantic but controversial relationship with Eddie.

Direct from his moldy grave, Edgar Allan Poe will haunt the stage with select recitations and comments.

And please check their web site at poecelebration.tripod.com for more specific information.

You can think of these two celebrations as kickoffs to the big 200th anniversary of the writer’s birth on January 19, 2009. I am sure that I will be writing more about this later.

Thank you and have a great week.

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