bride of her most
inconsiderate son-in-law? How even provide a wedding repast against
their arrival? But happily she was spared the horror of such an
experience, for on the appointed day Poe arrived at Fordham alone,
though in a state of nervous excitement, which necessitated days and
even weeks of careful nursing on the part of his patient and
long-suffering mother-in-law.

This final separation between the two--for they never again met--was
caused by Poe's intemperance at his hotel in Providence on the day
previous to that appointed for his marriage. He had delivered a lecture
which was enthusiastically applauded, and on his return to the hotel he
found himself surrounded by an admiring crowd, whose hospitalities he at
first resolutely declined, but with his usual weakness of will, finally
yielded to. Of the stormy scene when, on the following day, Mrs. Whitman
finally and decisively refused to marry him, she has herself given an
account, representing Poe as alternately pleading and "raving" in his
unwillingness to accept her decision. But there can be no question but
that he was at this time either in some degree mentally unbalanced or in
such a state physically as that the least excess would serve to excite
his mind beyond its normal condition and render him partly
irresponsible. Of this we have proof in the fact of his intention of
taking his proposed bride to Fordham.

That Mrs. Whitman was really interested in her gifted and eccentric
suitor is evident, and in her heart she was loyal to him, as is shown by
her defence of him after his death, and also by the lines which she
addressed to him some months after their separation, entitled, "_The
Isle of Dreams_." Most of her poems written after this time had some
reference to him; and it is worthy of note that no woman whom Poe
professed to love ever lost her interest in him. The fascination which
he exerted over them must have been something extraordinary.

As regards Poe's feelings toward Mrs. Whitman, it is evident from the
beginning that there was no real love on his part. He expressed no
regret at the ending of his "divine dream of love," but seems rather to
have experienced toward her a degree of resentment which thus found
expression in a letter to a friend:

"From this day forth I shun the pestilential society of literary women.
They are a heartless, unnatural, venomous, dishonorable set, with no
guiding principle but inordinate self-esteem. Mrs. Osgood i