The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1869-04-02
THE LAST HOURS OF POE.

DIR. D. Z. SnodgraSS furnishes to
monthly the following graphic account
of the last hours of the poet:
On Tuesday, November l, 1910, wet
and chilly day, received note, bear
ing signature which / recognized as
that of a printer named Walker, who had
set type for the Baltimore Sunday TiSt-
tor while l was editing it, and thus be-
came aware of my deep interest in Mr..
Poe. 1t stated that a man claiming Poe's
name, and said TO be acquainted with me
was at Booth s. Sergeants tavern in
Lombard street near High, Baltimore,
in a beastly state of intoXicatiou and eV-
ident destitution, and that he had been
heard to utter my name as that of an ac-
quaintance.
Immediately repaired to the drink
ing saloon-for such it was, although
dignified by the designation of tavern
and, sure enough there was Edgar AL
Ian Poe, in a condition that had been
but too faithfully described by Mr. Walk
err. He was in the bar-room, sitting in
an arm chair, with his head dropped for
ward, and SO stupefied with liquor, and
so altered from the neatly dressed aud
vivacous gentleman which he was when
had the pleasure of call from him,
that, unaided, l should not have distin-
guished him from the crowd of less in
toxicated men whom the occasion of
election had called together at the tav-
ern, as the voting place OF the ward in
which he was located.
The Washington College Hopital
having been fixed upon, a messenger
was dispatched to procure a carriage.
While awaiting its arrival, had an OPP
portunity TO observe more closely than
had taken time to do previously, the
condition and apparel of the strangely
metamorphOsed being in the bar-roOm,
who wore a name which was synO-
hymn for genius-the first glance at
whose tout ensemble was well calculated
to recall POe's own so frequently limited
metempsychosis.
His face was haggard, not to say
blOated, and unwashed, his hair un-
kempt, and his whole aspect repulsive.
His expansive forehead, with its won
drOus breadth between the point where
phrenOlOgists locate the organ of ideal
ity-the widest l ever measured-and
that full-Orbed and mellow, yet soulful
eye, for hich he was so noticeable when
himself, how fustreless and vacant they
appeared to be now, shaded from view
by rusty, almost brimless, tattered and
ribbonless palm-leaf hat. His clothing
! consisted of a sack coat of thin and
glazed black alpaca, ripped more or less
at several of its seams, and faded and
soiled. and pants of a steelmixed pattern
of cassinette, half worn and badly fit
ting, if they could be said to fit at all.
| He wore neither vest nor neckcloth,
while the bosom of his shirt was both
crumpled and soiled. On his feet were
boots of coarse material, and giving no
signs of having been BACKED for long
time, if at all.
The carriage having arrived, we tried
to get the object of our care upon his
feet, so that he might the more easily be
| taken to it. But he was past locomotion.
We therefore carried him to the coach
as ifhe were a corpse, and lifted him in
to it in the same manner. While we
were doing this, what was left of one of
the most remarkable embodiments of
genius the world has produced in all the
centuries of its history-the author of a
single poem which alone has been
adjudged by more than one critic as en-
titling its producer to lasting and en-
viable fame-Was so utterly voiceless as
to be capable of only muttering scarcely
ineligible oaths, and other forms of
imprecation upon those who were try
ing TO rescue him from destruction and
disgrace.
The carriage was driven directly to
the hospital, where its unconscious oc-
cupant was assigned to the care of its
intelligent and kindly resident physi-
clan. OF the numerous and strangely
contradictory memoirs of Mr.. Poe that
/ have preserved, there lies one before
me, which states that ''insanity ensued,
and that next morning he died miser-
able, raving maniac"
AS to time, this is not true He lived
nearly a week, instead of dying Enext
day." as one account has it, or ''in few
| days." as another records it, but dying
on the 7th of the same month, Monday.
Besides it might convey the idea that he
had no lucid moments. But he had {;
and in one Ofthese an incident TRANSFERRED
which, while its mention may serve to
extend the already long, as well as in
creasing record of the last words of not
ed men, it will not be recognized as any
thing but characteristic o: Mr.. Poe, who
was always haunted by a terrible, vague
apprehension of death and the grave.
When the hospital physician became
satisfied that the author of William
Wilson," a favorite tale of Mr.. Poe, and
of ''The Raven" had written his last
story and his last poem, he ad dressed
him in a concerned and kindly manner,
saying:
S.Mr. Poe, it is my painful duty to in
form you that you have, in my judg-
ment, only a very short time to live. If
you have any friends whom you would
like to see, name them, and your wish
shall be gratified; will summon them. "
''FriendsI" exclaimed the dying son
of genius Friend repeating the
word for moment, as if it no longer
had definite meaning, 'my best friend
would be lie who would take a pistol
and blow out these id wretched
brains !" pressing his hand to his fore
head as he uttered the awful inpreca-
ltion.