Unpublished Correspondence by Edgar Allen Poe [pp. 421-430]

APPLETONS' JO URATAL.
own eyes, that to act generously is to be considered
as designing, and that to be poor is to be a villain. I
must get rich-rich. Then all will go well-but
until then I must submit to be abused. I deeply
regret that Mr. R should think ill of me. If
you can, disabuse him-and at all times act for me
as you think best; I put my honor, as I would my
life and soul, implicitly in your hands; but I would
rather not confide my purposes, in that one regard,
to any one but your dear sister.... As long as you
and yours love me, my true and beautiful Annie,
what need I care for this cruel, unjust, calculating
world? Oh, Annie, there are no human words that
can express my devotion to you and yours. My love
for you has given me renewed life. In all my present anxieties and embarrassments, I still feel in my
inmost soul a divine joy-a happiness inexpressible
-that nothing seems to disturb. For hours at a
time I sit and think of you of your lovely character-your true faith and unworldliness. I do not believe that any one in this whole world fully understands me except your own dear self... How glad
I am to hear about Sarah's living with you, and
about the school. Tell her that she is my own dear
sister, whom I shall always love. Do not let her
think ill of me; I hope Mr. C is well. Remem ber me to him, and ask him if he has seen my' Ra tionale of Verse' in the last October and November
numbers of the Southern Literary Messenger.... I
am so busy now, and feel so full of energy. En gagements to write are pouring in upon me every
day. I had two proposals within the last week from
Boston. I sent yesterday an article to the Ameti can Review about' Critics and Criticism.' Not long
ago I sent one to the Metropolitan called'Landor's
Cottage:' it has something about Annie in it, and
will appear, I suppose, in the March number. To
the S. L. Messenger I have sent fifty pages of' Mar ginalia'-five pages to appear each month of the
current year. I have also made permanent engage ments with every magazine in America (except Pe terson's National), including a Cincinnati magazine
called The Gentlemen's. So you see that I have
only to keep up my spirits to get out of all my pe cuniary troubles.... You ask me, Annie, to tell
you about some book to read. Have you seen'Per cy Ranthorpe,' by Mrs. Gore? You can get it at
any of the agencies. I have lately read it with deep
interest, and derived great consolation from it also.
It relates to the career of a literary man, and gives
a just view of the true aims and the true dignity of
the literary character. Read it for my sake....
But of one thing rest assured, Annie-from this day
forth I shun the pestilential society of literary wom en. They are a heartless, unnatural, venomous, dis honorable set, with no guiding principle but inordi nate self-esteem. Mrs. is the only exception I
know. Our dear mother sends you a hundred kisses
(fifty for Sarah). She will write very soon. Kiss
little Caddy for me, and remember me to Mr. R and to all...."
This letter was not signed, and is followed by
one written, apparently, in February, but simply
headed " Thursday, -8th.
"DEAR, DEAR ANNIE-Our darling mother is just
going to town, where, I hope, she will find a sweet letter from you, or from Sarah, but, as it is so long since
I have written, I must send a few words to let you
see and feel that your Eddy, even when silent, keeps
you always in his mind and heart-in his inmost
heart. I have been so busy, dear Annie, ever since
I returned from Providence-six weeks ago. I have
not suffered a day to pass without writing from a
page to three pages. Yesterday, I wrote five, and
the day before a poem considerably longer than
'The Raven.' I call it' The Bells.' How I wish
my Annie could see it! Her opinion is so dear to
me on such topics. On all it is everything to mebut on poetry in especial. And Sarah, too. I told
her when we were at W, that I hardly ever
knew any one with a keener discrimination in regard
to what is really poetical. The five prose pages I
finished yesterday are called-what do you think? I am sure you will never guess-' Hop-Frog!' On ly think of your Eddy writing a story with such a
name as' Hop-Frog!' You would never guess the
subject (which is a terrible one) from the title, I am
sure. It will be published in a weekly paper of Bos ton.... I think'The Bells' will appear in the
American Review. I have got no answer yet from
-,... My opinion is that her mother has
intercepted the letter and will never give it to her.
.. And now good-by, my dear Annie.
"Your own EDDY."
On the I9th the poet writes to repel some cruel
accusations certain mischief-makers had spread about
among his dearest friends:
" FORDHAM, Feb..9, Sunday.
"MY SWEET FRIEND AND SISTER-I fear that
in this letter, which I write with a heavy heart, you
will find much to disappoint and grieve you-for I
must abandon my proposed visit to and God
only knows when I shall see you, and clasp you
by the hand. I have come to this determination
to-day, after looking over some of your letters to
me and my mother, written since I left you. You
have not said it to me, but I have been enabled
to glean from what you have said, that Mr. R
has permitted himself (perhaps without knowing
it) to be influenced against me by the malignant
misrepresentations of Mr. and Mrs.. Now,
I frankly own to you, dear Annie, that I am proud,
although I have never shown myself proud to you or
yours, and never will. You know that I quarrelled
with the - s solely on your account and Mr.
R's. It was obviously my interest to keep in
with them; and, moreover, they had rendered me
some services which entitled them to my gratitude
up to the time when I discovered they had been
blazoning their favors to the world. Gratitude, then,
as well as interest, would have led me not to offend
them; and the insults offered to me individually by
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