Welcome to Celebrate Creativity and the Hall of imagination– This episode is called Mommy Issues. It begins with a conversation between Mr. Poe, and myself, the night watchman.

Now Mr. Poe, we want you to be comfortable here, and I spoke with the museum supervisor and we agree that it might be best to start with a conversation about someone who you probably loved very much, your mother– There are those who say that you might have had. “Mommy issues”

Mr. Bartley—“Sir, my mother died when I was scarcely three. Your modern terminology leaves something to be desired.”

Mr. Poe, be there as it may, take back to the year of 1810. In Europe, Napoleon reached the zenith of his power.   And you were only one year of age.

Yes Mr. Bartley, I remember that during 1810,my mother’s fame as an actress increased - and I feel that her creative passion - in this case the theatre - was passed on to me.

Could you tell us a bit about your father, Mr. Poe?

Certainly, Mr. Bartley. My father was to later desert the family. That August, the Placide and Green Theatre Company opened in Richmond, Virginia. My mother played in two plays of the period, The Castle Spectre and Of Age Tomorrow.The following month she appeared in Richmond in The Belle’s Stratagem.  A writer for the Richmond Enquirer wrote:  and I quote from memory 
But the object of these remarks, Mr. Editor, is yet behind the curtain. It is true, a man who has ever been accustomed to esteem modesty and woman synonymous terms, and who has always been more ready to kneel at the shrine of beauty than before the image of a saint, feels some diffidence in introducing a lady in the columns of a newspaper. Yet he gathers strength from the resolution, that no observation of his shall tinge the cheek of modesty with a blush nor cast one stain on the vestal robe of virtue. Thus self justified, he enters on the task, confidently believing that the public will be prepared to welcome with the same approbation which marks her entrance on the stage, the introduction of Mrs. Poe. From an actress who possesses so eminently the faculty of pleasing, whose powers are so general and whose exertions are so ready, it would be unjust to withhold the tribute of applause. Were I to say simply that she is a valuable acquisition to the Theatre, I should dishonor her merit and do injustice to the feelings of the public. It is true she has never yet been called to the higher characters in tragedy, and it is proper that she never should be for she who is so well calculated to fill the heart with pleasure, should never be required to shroud it in gloom. On the first moment of her entrance on the Richmond boards, she was saluted with the plaudits of admiration, and at no one moment since has her reputation sunk. 

I  almost hesitate to ask, but how did your father feel about the acclaim your mother was experiencing -

For some reason - possibly because maybe because my father came to the realization that he could not abide his situation, my father deserted the family. No one really knows what happened to him, though some sources say that he died in Norfolk in 1811.  I never really knew him.

What did your mother do? Mr. Poe.


My dear mother was now left alone, to support herself and me.  Remember that my older brother, Henry, was in Baltimore.
In 1810, my mother gave birth to a Third child - a daughter named Rosalie.  She was born on the 20th of December in a Norfolk, Virginia boarding house. Rosalie was later described as “backward” and may have been what do you refer to today as mentally challenged.

Do you have any memories of that period.?

Mr. Bartley - be serious - I was much too young to form definite memories - or at least ones I could articulate.  But I am sure that events would have made an impression on me. I can imagine that my mother would take me to the theatre in which she was acting to watch her rehearsals She was a most talented young lady, and played - such Shakespearean roles as Ophelia in Hamlet, Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, and Cordelia in King Lear - all roles in which she played beautiful young woman who died onstage.  For example, in the play King Lear, the king holds my mothers limp body and cries -

She's gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth.

Then she would soon come back to life and meet me after the rehearsal..  Perhaps this is the reason that a constant theme of my later works was the death of a beautiful woman who refused to remain dead after the termination of her life.

I later wrote “the boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.  Who shall say where the one ends, and other begins.


Mr. Poe, You must have loved her very much.


There is no way to adequately express the love I felt for my mother.


Thank you Mr. Poe - I realize that all this might bring back painful memories for you, and thank you for expressing something that must be very personal.


Thank you for your concern, Mr. Bartley.  But let me emphasize that while I may have not have concrete memories of occasions when it appeared my mother’s character in a drama died on stage - those occasions definitely left an impression.


I am sure your mother did the best she could- and to be in her early twenties.

Mr. Bartley, let us reflect upon the year 1811- I was just two years of age and Miss Jane Austin had just published Sense and Sensibility

During August, my mother was acting with the Placide and Green Company in Norfolk.  After the company had finished their theatrical obligations, they left Norfolk for Richmond - and for some strange reason, left my mother and her two children behind.  My mother’s role in the company was quite significant, Mr. Placide tried to communicate with her and convince my mother to forgo her stranded condition and come to Richmond.  It seems that this was beyond my mother’s strength to answer - she was now in a most weak condition - and it was said Mr. Placide sent a messenger to bring my mother, sister, and myself to Richmond, at his own expense.  He had procured for us accomadations at a boarding house of a Mrs. Phillips - an extremely kind milliner.

So Mr. Poe what were the results?

My mother was by now quite destitute and weakened in health. But acting was all she knew how to do

I would imagine that your mother must have had quite a a few professional expectations to meet - and all without sufficient finances and a support system.

Ah yess, Mr. Bartley - And worst of all - oh tragedy of tragedies - she had developed consumption. Some say that she even had the beginnings of consumption before Rosalie was born.


Our listeners today might understand consumption better as tuberculosis.

Yes, thank you.  Consumption -was one of the most dreaded diseases of my earthy life.  I do understand you currently utilize the term tuberculosis - but in the 19th century we did not fully understand what caused the disease.

Well, Mr. Poe, what did you think caused tuberculosis in the 19th century?

To be honest, we did not know - it was just something were forced to endure.  Some thought it was hereditary - which might have seemed logical because so many suffered from consumption - I mean, tuberculosis.  Others thought it was from poor living conditions - which was probably closer to the reason for causation.  Some citizens from New England even thought consumption was caused by vampires.


But Mr. Poe, later scientists learned it was a contagious disease caused by a bacteria.


We DID know in the ninetieth century that, for some reason, consumption caused a person’s body to became weaker and weaker, as that person began coughing up blood. According to some sources, consumption was so common in the 19th century that women's handkerchiefs were never pure white - you see - the manufacturers always put a row of bright red cherries, strawberries, or most commonly roses on the bottom of the handkerchief so if a lady coughed up blood, it would not as evident to those around her that she had consumption.


But going from the general - the disease - to the specific - my mother - she  began to feel weaker and weaker, and her little body exhibited even more signs of weakness. She made her last stage appearance on October 11, 1811.


That November, the Richmond Enquirer printed an appeal:
TO THE HUMANE HEART,
On this night, Mrs. Poe, lingering on the bed of disease and surrounded by her children, asks your assistance; and asks it perhaps for the last time. — The generosity of a Richmond Audience can need no other appeal.
And the Virginia Patriot printed a special announcement concerning the benefit for my mother:
In consequence of the serious and long continued indisposition of Mrs. Poe, and in compliance with the advice and solicitation of many of the most respectable families, the managers have been induced to appropriate another night for her benefit — Taking into consideration the state of her health, and the probability of this being the last time she will ever receive the patronage of the public, this will give the public an opportunity to display their benevolent remembrance


I certainly hope that resulted in a response from the community.


Yes, some ladies from the community did visit her.  But in her poverty stricken condition, medical attendance was virtually non-existent - trying to read through the dark days of the future, trying to still the cries of my sister, and listening to the muffled voices of Mrs. Phillips’s customers in the shop below.


There is no way to articulate the feelings engendered  in me when I saw my mother dying before me like many of the characters she had played.  She was dying a slow and painful death before our eyes. And on December 8, she breathed her last.  But this time she did not come back to life like she always did on stage. Rosalie and I did not really understand what was happening, and we cried out for our mother to speak to us.

My mother was buried at old Saint John’s Church in Richmond – but because acting was considered so scandalous profession, many members of the church’s vestry protested that her remains not be sheltered by consecrated ground.  Therefore those who shared the prejudices of the time ensured that she was buried far from the church in an unmarked grave grave. 


That’s terrible, Mr. Poe.


Mr. Poe, from what I understand your mother’s grave was moved and given a marker in 1927.

That is a small blessing, Mr. Bartley. But at the same time, some have said that my mother’s death set up a pattern of fears and self destructive behaviors that would torture me for all my earthly life.
But years later I wrote regarding my mother - you have touched a string to which my heart fully responds. To have known her is to be an object of great interest in my eyes. I myself never knew her--and never knew the affection of a father. I have many occasional dealings with Adversity--but the want of parental affection has been the heaviest of all my trials.


And in 1845, I also wrote about my mother:
The writer of this article is himself the son of an actress — has invariably made it his boast — and no earl was ever prouder of his earldom than he of the descent from a woman who, although well-born, hesitated not to consecrate to the drama her brief career of genius and of beauty.

What happened to your brother and sister, Mr. Poe?


My grandfather, General David Poe Sr., took care of my brother, William Henry Leonard.  My grandfather was no longer as wealthy as he had been, and understandably allowed the other two children to pass into the hands of charitable strangers.  One of the ladies who had visited my mother, Jane Scott Mackenzie, along with her husband William Mackenzie, adopted my sister, Rosalie.  The Mackenzies adopted Rosalie even though they had two children of their own - they were a rather wealthy couple, and I believe they would have eight more children.


Well, what happened to YOU after your mother passed away?


Frances Keeling Valentine Allan, another member of Richmond society, had visited my mother and agreed to raise me.   So I was raised - and let me emphasize “raised” - not adopted - by John Allan and Frances Allan - this is why I was given the middle name of Allan - even though I was never formally adopted - a state I must admit that left me in a rather precarious state emotionally. The Allans were unable to have children, and Mrs. Allan, along with many ladies of the most respectable families in Richmond, had taken my mother food and a certain amount of comfort


I understand that Henry was already living with General Poe, but how did Mrs. MacKenzie and Mrs Allan learn of your mother’s specific plight?


I believe their actions were due to an advertisement that a theatre manager had placed in the Richmond Enquirer “to the kindhearted of the city.”  They answered it, and my mother’s worst fears were temporarily relieved. 

Mrs. Allan was able to give me the love and security I craved, and protected me from Mr. Allan’s frequent anger.

Mr. Bartley, I certainly did not understand what was happening when the Allans first took me to their home, but I was most aware that my world had been totally and forever disrupted - that everything had changed.  I was separated from my baby sister Rosalie, who was probably crying when we were separated.  I found myself alone with an affectionate, but nevertheless strange woman.


As the carriage I was in rattled over the cobbled Richmond streets, I must have again experienced an intense emotion without words - a feeling of loneliness and emptiness that would follow me all the way to the grave.


Thank you, Mr. Poe.  I can’t image the pain that you must have gone through.  And thank you for your bravery in relating the story of your mother’s last days on this podcast.  I do feel that your the narrative of your life story will help us understand your tales and poems in a significant way.

While Eliza must have experienced a small amount of relief to know that her children had adults to take care of them, it would have been difficult for almost anyone at the time to realize the full extent of the trauma that her death caused to her children - especially Edgar and Rosalie. Everyday they watched their beautiful young mother die a slow and ugly death in a one room flat - watching their mother gradually becoming thin and grey, as well as spitting up blood all over her nightclothes and bed.  Little Edgar must have experienced some terrible things during his toddler days.  Somehow little children were expected to act like little adults. We know that children were not often brought into the conversation to express their feelings - certainly not in the early 1800’s.  No one thought to answer the many questions that a bright, but confused little boy had about the fact that his mother had slowly died in front of him, and now was to live with strangers.   Mr. Poe, you are a very young lad and certainly did not understand what death was. 

But Mr. Bartley, I formed a permanent impression.

And Mr. Poe, as we look at some of your works in future podcast episodes, I believe we will see your simultaneous horror and fascination with death play out - over and over - almost as though you were trying to relive your mother’s death.

Thank you for listening to celebrate creativity– This has been George Bartley.