We were in Baltimore this weekend for the National Communication Association Conference (I presented two papers.) There are two places I always look for when I visit cities: an interesting graveyard and a literary site. The Poe house in Baltimore and his nearby grave have both. While Poe lived in several places (Richmond, Boston, Philadelphia, and New York), this home at 203 Amity Street is significant because he was staying here when he collapsed in a local tavern (wearing someone else's ratty clothes) and taken to a hospital. He died four days later on October 7, 1849, Since his beginnings are also in Baltimore, the city represents bookends to Poe's life.
The house itself is tiny inside, but well-preserved. It sits at the end of a row of apartments. Just inside there's a charming gift shop with all things Poe, and a timeline of Poe's literary life in Baltimore. He lived here for three years with his young wife, Virginia Clemm, and her mother, leaving in 1835 and moving with Virginia to Richmond.
The rooms are small with low ceilings...the house is as narrow inside as it appears on the outside, and it's hard to believe five people lived here together (Virginia's mother, grandmother, and cousin also lived there.) The front room leads to a sitting room and fireplace, where the family would have likely taken their meals.
From there, a winding, narrow staircase (that makes me wonder how women with long, thick skirts navigated the house daily) leads to Poe's bedroom on the left. It is spartan, with only a bed, wash stand, and desk as it would have been then.
To the right of the staircase is another sitting room where Poe's telescope (he was fascinated by astronomy), writing desk, and chair are enclosed in glass cases.
Another narrow staircase (so narrow only one person can go up and back down at a time) leads to the alcove where the women likely slept.
Poe came back to Baltimore frequently, enough that the city claims his literary legacy (hence the NFL team's name-the Ravens). After Virginia died in 1847 at just 24, Poe never really recovered from his heartbreak. He tried to stop drinking but apparently relapsed several times before his death two years after hers.
Poe is buried in Westminster Cemetery a couple of blocks away from the house. We spent quite a while roaming around this beautiful space, where the graves date to the 18th century. If you visit the Poe house (and I recommend either driving or taking another form of transportation to the house), stop by the grave site, particularly if you appreciate the gravestone architecture of the Georgian and Victorian periods.
I have always been fascinated by Poe's work, and I respect his talent. But when I see Poe's image, or read anything about his life, I feel pity for him, because it seems he endured more suffering than happiness. Though his talent as a critic, editor, and poet was widely known at the time of his death, his greatness as a writer wouldn't truly be realized until later. For every success in the timeline of his life, there is a failure awaiting. For every happiness, a sorrow. It seemed like he had more than his share of that. And yet....his work is taught in schools among the classics of great literature, he is known as an one of the first to write science fiction, and a professional team bears the name of his most famous poem. What would he think of all that? One can only wonder.
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven
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