Edgar Allan Poe and the London Monster Read Online Free Page B

Edgar Allan Poe and the London Monster
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robbed. Please exercise utmost caution when going about your business.
    With concern,
    Henry

LIVERPOOL TO LONDON, WEDNESDAY, 1 JULY 1840
    More than three weeks at sea took me to the brink of madness, but I survived the remainder of the journey without further recourse to intemperance. Daily I wrote to Sissy and Muddy, my mother-in-law, a diary of my journey that was rather maudlin. I had promised my wife that I would use my time at sea productively to write a collection of stories and tried to draw inspiration from my monotonous surroundings, but after penning the beginnings of some sea adventures and pirate stories that sent yet another ship and its crew to the bottom of the ocean, I threw my half-hearted tales to a watery grave instead.
    When the Ariel finally sailed into the port of Liverpool at dawn, my heart lifted. At last! I could put my sins behind me and become Edgar Poe —writer, critic and scholar. The man who inhabited my stateroom on the ship would be left behind. I pondered how arriving in another country gave a man the opportunity to begin again. It was possible to redefine one’s character, adjust mistakes and start over if determined enough. This thought struck me as important, and I vowed to return to it when in a less anxious state of mind. First I had to find my way to the railway station and board a train bound for Londonwithout falling prey to the unsavory characters who frequented Liverpool’s tippling dens and spent their days and nights wandering the vicinity’s streets and alleys, looking for the chance to swindle an honest citizen. It was the same in every port, or so I presumed from the tales I had heard in the taverns down near the docks of Philadelphia.
    It was still early morning when we were released at last from the Ariel ; my fellow passengers and I made our way to Lime Street Station where we cordially said our goodbyes. Dr. and Mrs. Wallis were remaining in Liverpool where she had family. Mr. Asquith was going on to Manchester to give a lecture on the moral benefits of temperance, and Miss Nicholson was returning to Preston to visit with her aged mother. Mr. Mackie was traveling to London for a “rich theatrical engagement of his own devising.” I wondered if a play he had penned was to be performed in some small theater, or if the dandified fellow had managed to persuade an innocent damsel of wealthy means to marry him, but I did not inquire further. We both boarded the London train, but made no plans to meet again, and seated ourselves in separate carriages.
    My compartment was reasonably comfortable and once settled in, I began to contemplate my assignation at Brown’s Genteel Inn with the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin. I had first made Dupin’s acquaintance in 1832, when staying in Paris. The location of our meeting was a library on the rue Montmartre where we were searching for the same rare volume of verse, Tamerlane and Other Poems , and this coincidence provoked a lengthy conversation about our interests, revealing a shared passion for enigmas, conundrums and hieroglyphics. After a time, Dupin offered me accommodation at his residence, which I gratefully accepted as I was running low on funds. Dupin, it seemed, was also in straitened circumstances, but the neglected state of his house did not reflect that of his mind; hewas a great scholar and ratiocinator who never failed to find the solution to any puzzle. Rarely have I enjoyed a more intellectually stimulating evening than those spent with Dupin, discussing the contents of his extensive library or exploring the city by night. This shared sympathy made me confident that together we would answer all the questions that had tormented me since the day my Pa’s new wife had sent me the mahogany box of letters and told me it was my legacy.
    My restless mind was eventually lulled by the hypnotic view through the carriage window: endless green fields, tenebrous woodlands and cloud-speckled sky, until that

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