Admirers Seek Formation of Raven Society to Honor Writer

Who Spent Happiest Days in Richmond

By Dr. J. A. Foster-Brannon

Edgar Allan Poe was born 128 years ago. He first opened his wistful eyes upon the bewildering complexities of life in the ancient city of Boston. It was January 19, 1809, nearly 30 years after the victories of the Revolution and about a half-century before the interfratricidal struggle between the States.

Poe was the second born of actor parentage. His frail and beautiful young mother, Elizabeth Arnold Poe, was away from the theatre for only a few weeks, as she fulfilled the eternal law of life. David Poe, the father who was lawyer-trained and then actor-turned, undoubtedly felt the same marvelous thrill of pride, such as characterizes all elated fathers, when he first looked upon the pink and white baby face that was turned trustingly up toward him.

The Poes were unceasingly beset by the stern and ever-present realities of their appalling poverty and the constant struggle which attended them in following the star of their destiny upon the stage, for the life of an actor in those strenuous days was one often of misery and neglect.

For a brief span of years, the restless spirit of Edgar Allan Poe vainly struggled against the overwhelming vicissitudes. On a Sunday morning in the year 1849, when the cold October sun shone fitfully upon his pallid face, as he lay on a lonely cot in the city of Baltimore, he closed his tired eyes and found perfect peace--for perhaps the first time.

The cycle of his days was short and sorely troubled. He only lived 40 years, but he left as a heritage for the ages an immortal name and a universal fame. It is now recognized that he attained surpassing heights of grandeur as one of the world's greatest lyric poets and short-story writer of weird tales of amazing imagination. For several decades after his death, the laurels he had wrest from cynical critics, with such an outpouring of agony and misery, were at last accorded him; at first begrudgingly and then in thunderous acclamation.

It should be of peculiar and particular interest to every Richmonder, who is an ardent admirer of the towering genius of Poe, to know that the most dramatic and by far the happiest days of his life were spent in this old Southern city. When he was not quite two years of age, his lovely but fearfully ill mother came here with the Placid Players and gave a number of performances in the old Richmond Theatre, where now stands the Monumental Episcopal Church on East Broad. On December 8, 1811, after weeks of exhausting illness, she expired and left behind her three orphaned children together with a few piteous tokens of her broken young life.

Destiny's Star Flamed Brightest in Richmond

Edgar had already won the love and adoration of Frances Keeling Valentine Allan, successful merchant and prominent Scotch citizen. Mrs. Allan pleaded for the privilege of giving a home to the winsome child who had so quickly touched her tender and understanding heart. To his great credit, her stern husband assented and young Edgar instantly became the center of the household's highest interest, toward whom all things seemed to magically gravitate.

So it was that Poe may well be considered Richmond reared, as he spent his entire childhood and a greater portion of his young manhood in the city of his adoption, except for a few unforgettable months abroad with his foster-parents in England. It was here in the brooding quietude of historic St. John's burial grounds that the dust of his beloved mother mingled with the sacred soil of the Old Dominion. It was here that he found refuge when he had none to whom he might turn for protection and asylum. It was here that he looked upon and worshiped Jane Stith Stanard, the immortal "Helen" of his beautiful and imperishable lines. It was here that his youthful heart knew the first awakening of adolescent romance, stirred into flame by the enchanting presence of his lovely Elmira.

It was here that the fateful turning point in his career took place, when he finally and irrevocably broke with his foster-father, who was then one of the wealthiest men in the entire State. It was here that his capacity and rare gift for penetrating criticism lifted him to an enviable position in the fore rank of the nation, as he fearlesly and constructively wielded his pen while associate editor of "The Southern Literary Messenger." It was here that his childhood laughter rang wild and free, and it was here that blighting sorrow and crushing despair hushed his song. It was here that he found his Elmira again and that he dared once more lift his eyes to the heavens, as new hope was begotten to quicken his pulse with the old surge of dynamic courage.

It was here that the strange star of his unique destiny first gave forth its radiant light, it was here that it gleamed most gloriously, and it was here that it tragically flamed across the firmament of time and sank into the Western night of temporary oblivion. It was here that the overshadowing pall of drink bore down upon his soul and slowly began that utter destruction of his overwrought nervous mechanism which finally engulfed him, and plunged him headlong into the fearful abyss of an ignoble death.

The earnest student and the exacting scholar who would unprejudicially look upon the life and the yearnings, the character and the concepts of Edgar Allan Poe in their true and normal proportions, where play both its ethereal lights and its Plutonian shadows, must repair to this historic.

One of the first objectives, it seems natural to surmise, is the not distant formulation of a Richmond Raven Society, or a similar association of Poe enthusiasts together in a workable organization, to the end that there may be a genuine revival of interest, information and study of the great works of that ever-intriguing and constantly compelling Southern sovereign of American letters. The society might well engage in monthly meetings, on stated evenings, in a proper assembly hall where carefully prepared addresses by eminent educators and prominent devotees of the great poet and author could bring inspiring and scholarly messages, so that the soul of this great Richmonder and reared-in-the-blood Virginia might come into his own on soil that he loved best. His was a Virginia background, a Virginia understanding, a Virginia heart and a Virginia temperament.

The doors of the organization should be open to all who desire membership. It would possess particular appeal to civic, fraternal, historical, literary, religious, educational and women's organizations, from which I am confident a large number would become active participants. Such an achievement can unquestionably be realized, if the city is indeed alive to its privileges and its opportunities.

Perhaps some day, not a full decade removed, by concerted and universal action this Richmond Raven Society may lead the foreguard of a great world-wide ingathering, offered tenderly and reverently by those who love him, that the great Poe might find rightful place in stone and bronze on famed Monument Avenue, where mighty Virginians stand unsleeping guard, day and night. Warriors and navigators of the far seas are they, but none among them is more enduringly renowned than Edgar Allan Poe, the pensive dreamer.