Burning Question #18: Was It murder?

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We will agree that we all know who Edgar Allan Poe was and are familiar with some of his work. I’ll have a reading list at the end for reference.

Don’t run off before you answer the poll below. It is fast and easy and the reason we’re here today. Just scroll down (but read the amazing story too.)

Welcome to the Next Great True Crime Mystery

In October of 1849, ten years before I was born, my parents were arriving in California with a baby boy and a group of Vampires who’d come out West to start a new life.

In the meantime, across the country on October 3, 1849, Poe was found delirious on the streets of Baltimore, “in great distress, and… in need of immediate assistance”, according to Joseph W. Walker who found him. Poe later died on Sunday, October 7, 1849 at 5:00 in the morning. Poe was never coherent long enough to explain how he came to be in his dire condition and, oddly, was wearing clothes that were not his own. He is said to have repeatedly called out the name “Reynolds” on the night before his death, though it is unclear to whom he was referring. Some sources say that Poe’s final words were “Lord help my poor soul”.

All medical records and Poe’s death certificate were conveniently lost. 

Newspapers at the time reported Poe’s death as “congestion of the brain” or “cerebral inflammation”, To translate that means he died of the overuse of alcohol. To this day the actual cause of death remains a mystery. Speculation has included a multitude of dire conditions including delirium tremens, heart disease, epilepsy, syphilis, meningeal inflammation, cholera, and rabies. 

The day that Edgar Allan Poe was buried, a long obituary appeared in The New York Post signed “Ludwig”. It was soon published throughout the country. The piece began, “Edgar Allan Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore the day before yesterday. This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it.”

“Ludwig” was soon identified an asshole named Rufus Wilmot Griswold an editor, critic, and anthologist who had borne a grudge against Poe since 1842. Griswold somehow became Poe’s literary executor (no doubt through lies and bribes)and attempted to destroy Poe’s reputation after his death.

The story was fabricated by Griswold, and it was denounced by those who had known Poe, including Sarah Helen Whitman, Charles Frederick Briggs, and George Rex Graham. This account became popularly accepted, in part because it was the only full biography available and was widely reprinted. It also remained popular because many readers assumed that Poe was similar to his fictional characters and were thrilled at the thought of reading the works of an “evil” man.

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Nevermore

A more accurate biography of Poe did not appear until of 1875 (Ingram). But once a lie is out it is difficult to retract it. Many writers used Poe as a cautionary tale against alcohol and drugs.  In 1941, Arthur Hobson Quinn presented evidence that Griswold had forged and re-written a number of Poe’s letters that were included in his “Memoir of the Author”. By then, Griswold’s depiction of Poe was entrenched in the mind of the public, both in America and around the world, and this distorted image of the author has become part of the Poe legend despite attempts to dispel it.

The very fact that Poe, a snappy and fashionable man was found in worn out clothing in a gutter went against the nature of the man. I believe he suffered from depression, of course, but I also believe that the notion of him drinking himself to death is wrong.

In the 19th Century, in America, people, especially man, all drank copious amounts of alcohol. The temperance movement in the United States was well founded due to the amount of alcohol most people consumed. Drink did not agree with Edgar Poe. So we he drank it went right to his head in extreme ways, but yet, if he had passed up a drink that would have gone against the social norms.

A few months before his death Edgar Allan Poe became engaged to his childhood sweetheart Sarah Elmira Royster. There were rumors that her brothers, who were against the union, had Poe murdered.

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Sarah Elmira Royster Poe’s Love Interest at the time of he is death.

Poe’s friend Sarah Helen Whitman, a poet, and woman of good standing always insisted he did not die a dishonorable man.

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Sarah Helen Whitman Poet and Friend of Poe

He did die a brilliant story teller and the father of the modern murder mystery, and modern horror.

If you get a chance look up the different stories about Poe. You’ll be amazed at what is out there.

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Or, on the other hand, Edgar Allan Poe might still be with us, having come aboard the ship to California with the rest of the Vampires.

Burning Question #18: Was Edgar Allan Poe Murdered?

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The Black Cat Illustrated by Gris Grimly

 

When I was a child my brother’s and I used to read Poe around a candle at night. Well, they’d read. As the youngest child I’d just let them scare the jeebers out of me. Later I read the stories on my own. And of course we’ve all seen (much later) the Vincent Price movies.

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Poe by Harry Clarke

Some of the Works of Poe:

Other works

Also HIGHLY RECOMMENDED:

The Poe Shadow
by Daniel Pearl
Yes it is one of my favorite books. You must read it.

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So your project for this summer is to read everything you can by Edgar Allan Poe, or about Edgar Allan Poe, and SOLVE THE MYSTERY.

Your next project is to keep checking back here on Saturday mornings for the next BURNING QUESTION.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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A Werewolf’s Train To Nowhere

I’ve posted this a few times, but since it is Werewolf Week, and since this is what it is, I will post it again.

A Werewolf’s Train To Nowhere

 Right after I’d graduated from college (the first time) from one of the rare Universities (now a well respected and famous school) that accepted women I took a trip across country on a train to meet my brother Val. He’d gone to New York City without me, leaving me, a young woman, unescorted. I would have done fine on my own but back then, in 1881 young women, even Vampires, didn’t travel alone.

I got on the train on a dark full moon night and made my way to my car. I was to share a car with several other students and some sort of chaperone. What I found was three young men dressed in rather garish suits of the latest fashion (or so they thought) and nobody else. Two had short beards, again, the style of the time. I recognized one from school. The train started to move. There was no getting off. OK I could have jumped, but I was in a long dress with a bustle no less and jumping wasn’t a practical option. Contrary to popular belief I couldn’t turn myself into a bat and fly away. So I stayed. They were horrible the entire time making crude jokes and being as vulgar as they could be. They insulted me for being a Vampire, calling me dead and cold and well, they were vulgar to say the least. I was in Hell and ready to get off of the train.

I sat took claim to a settee with a small table and tried to ignore my garishly dressed companions. A young woman climbed aboard and the three men cheered. She was dressed as garish as they were in the most stylish of gowns but it was a bright orange color with brown beaded trim. Her hair was as orange as the dress and piled high on her head. That included a lot of fake hair to go along with her real hair.

She eyed me up and down. “Who invited the Vampire?”

“I’m Juliette,” I said to the Werewolf girl. Holy crap I’d been stuck for a cross country trip with four Werewolves. Every muscle and bone on my body tightened up. I wanted to scream. Instead I just kept my place in my corner while my companions made as much noise as they could laughing out loud and of course the alcohol and drugs came out. Of course.

Just as the parting whistle blew the door opened again and in stepped my friend Pierce. Finally, another Vampire had arrived, and a strong protective one at that. His father owned the train car and I didn’t even put the two together. Pierce was a friend of my brothers Max and Andy. At age 28 he was the oldest of our group. We made quite a contrast in our highly fashionable yet subdued attire compared to the flamboyant brightly dressed Werewolves. We were also a lot quieter.

The Werewolf girl who was named Phoebe gave Pierce a long hard look then smiled and licked her lips. Pierce is attractive with a narrow face, a sensuous mouth and dark heavily lashed eyes. Of course she noticed him. She’d no doubt try to have his clothes off, have her way with him then tear his throat out. Well, maybe not, but I didn’t want him to get her claws into a friend who was almost like a brother to me.

The males were Luke, Seth and Eldon. I’ll never forget their names. They were rude and loud and young. Had they been Vampires I might have thought they were fun, but since they were Werewolves I thought they were disgusting. Phoebe was just as bad with her crude laugh and dirty jokes.

Pierce and I played cards and stood on the back of the train in the night air. We mostly talked. I asked him about people we knew who’d gone out into the world – the young Vampires we’d grown up with. Pierce was on his way to New York. I was on my way to New York as well to meet my brother Valentine. After that we’d board a ship to London.

Conversations with the Werewolves were in bits and pieces of insults and crude jokes. Pierce’s father did business with their families. To keep the peace and keep favors in check he’d offered to let the young adults of the pack to ride with us. Also, by being with Vampires the Werewolves were more likely to behave themselves. At least that is what everyone thought.

On the second night, after a half of case of Champagne, the young Werewolf men, Luke, Seth and Eldon stripped naked right in front of us and said they were going out for a run. Phoebe decided to stay in. They ran out and I could hear them up on the roof of the train car howling, then down a side ladder and they were gone. Phoebe sat by the window looking at the full moon. She’d taken off her jacket and bodice down to a short-sleeved lace covered blouse. Long dark hair sprouted on her arms and hands. Her fingers grew claw like. Fur grew down the side of her face. She ignored us as a low growl came to the back of her throat as she watched for her pack mates.

Peirce and I watched three huge wolves run along the side of the train. The moonlight reflected off of their silvery gray fur. They were beautiful.

Then we heard horrifically loud shots. Our fellow passengers a few cars down were shooting at the wolves. Pierce ran out of the car. I could hear him shouting for the men with the guns to stop. Phoebe started to scream and scream and scream.

The next day we heard news of three young men found dead by the side of the tracks. The story was they had been drinking and had a fight on the top of the train and fell off after shooting each other.

I will never forget holding Phoebe in my arms and rocking her, trying to tell her that everything would be alright. I knew it would never be alright but I said it anyway.

For the next week as we made our way across the country she’d howl mournfully at night. The passengers said the train was haunted. I knew they’d brought on their own ghosts when they killed the wolves for no reason.

Werewolves and Vampires are predators but even we don’t partake in the senseless of killing animals for no reason other than target practice.

Pierce and I related the story to others but over the years we’ve kept a lot of the details to ourselves. It seems like so long ago. It was a long time ago. A long long time ago.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

A Werewolf’s Train To Nowhere

The solar eclipse is on Monday, August 21. I’ll be on a beach in Oregon watching it. At the same time it will be my daughter’s first day of college in California. She’ll see it then race off to her first class. It is a busy time in my world, and it will be even busier when I return.

It will be a full moon on Monday too, which always makes me think of Werewolves. For some reason the following story of my past also reminds me of other things going on in the world right now. Odd how the mind and memories work that way.

Right after I’d graduated from college (the first time) from one of the rare Universities (now a well respected and famous school) that accepted women I took a trip across country on a train to meet my brother Val. He’d gone to New York City without me, leaving me, a young woman, unescorted. I would have done fine on my own but back then, in 1881 young women, even Vampires, didn’t travel alone.

I got on the train on a dark full moon night and made my way to my car. I was to share a car with several other students and some sort of chaperone. What I found was three young men dressed in rather garish suits of the latest fashion (or so they thought) and nobody else. Two had short beards, again, the style of the time. I recognized one from school. The train started to move. There was no getting off. OK I could have jumped, but I was in a long dress with a bustle no less and jumping wasn’t a practical option. Contrary to popular belief I couldn’t turn myself into a bat and fly away. So I stayed. They were horrible the entire time making crude jokes and being as vulgar as they could be. They insulted me for being a Vampire, calling me dead and cold and well, they were vulgar to say the least. I was in Hell and ready to get off of the train.

I sat took claim to a settee with a small table and tried to ignore my garishly dressed companions. A young woman climbed aboard and the three men cheered. She was dressed as garish as they were in the most stylish of gowns but it was a bright orange color with brown beaded trim. Her hair was as orange as the dress and piled high on her head. That included a lot of fake hair to go along with her real hair.

She eyed me up and down. “Who invited the Vampire?”

“I’m Juliette,” I said to the Werewolf girl. Holy crap I’d been stuck for a cross country trip with four Werewolves. Every muscle and bone on my body tightened up. I wanted to scream. Instead I just kept my place in my corner while my companions made as much noise as they could laughing out loud and of course the alcohol and drugs came out. Of course.

Just as the parting whistle blew the door opened again and in stepped my friend Pierce. Finally, another Vampire had arrived, and a strong protective one at that. His father owned the train car and I didn’t even put the two together. Pierce was a friend of my brothers Max and Andy. At age 28 he was the oldest of our group. We made quite a contrast in our highly fashionable yet subdued attire compared to the flamboyant brightly dressed Werewolves. We were also a lot quieter.

The Werewolf girl who was named Phoebe gave Pierce a long hard look then smiled and licked her lips. Pierce is attractive with a narrow face, a sensuous mouth and dark heavily lashed eyes. Of course she noticed him. She’d no doubt try to have his clothes off, have her way with him then tear his throat out. Well, maybe not, but I didn’t want him to get her claws into a friend who was almost like a brother to me.

The males were Luke, Seth and Eldon. I’ll never forget their names. They were rude and loud and young. Had they been Vampires I might have thought they were fun, but since they were Werewolves I thought they were disgusting. Phoebe was just as bad with her crude laugh and dirty jokes.

Pierce and I played cards and stood on the back of the train in the night air. We mostly talked. I asked him about people we knew who’d gone out into the world – the young Vampires we’d grown up with. Pierce was on his way to New York. I was on my way to New York as well to meet my brother Valentine. After that we’d board a ship to London.

Conversations with the Werewolves were in bits and pieces of insults and crude jokes. Pierce’s father did business with their families. To keep the peace and keep favors in check he’d offered to let the young adults of the pack to ride with us. Also, by being with Vampires the Werewolves were more likely to behave themselves. At least that is what everyone thought.

On the second night, after a half of case of Champagne, the young Werewolf men, Luke, Seth and Eldon stripped naked right in front of us and said they were going out for a run. Phoebe decided to stay in. They ran out and I could hear them up on the roof of the train car howling, then down a side ladder and they were gone. Phoebe sat by the window looking at the full moon. She’d taken off her jacket and bodice down to a short-sleeved lace covered blouse. Long dark hair sprouted on her arms and hands. Her fingers grew claw like. Fur grew down the side of her face. She ignored us as a low growl came to the back of her throat as she watched for her pack mates.

Peirce and I watched three huge wolves run along the side of the train. The moonlight reflected off of their silvery gray fur. They were beautiful.

Then we heard horrifically loud shots. Our fellow passengers a few cars down were shooting at the wolves. Pierce ran out of the car. I could hear him shouting for the men with the guns to stop. Phoebe started to scream and scream and scream.

The next day we heard news of three young men found dead by the side of the tracks. The story was they had been drinking and had a fight on the top of the train and fell off after shooting each other.

I will never forget holding Phoebe in my arms and rocking her, trying to tell her that everything would be alright. I knew it would never be alright but I said it anyway.

For the next week as we made our way across the country she’d howl mournfully at night. The passengers said the train was haunted. I knew they’d brought on their own ghosts when they killed the wolves for no reason.

Werewolves and Vampires are predators but even we don’t partake in the senseless of killing animals for no reason other than target practice.

Pierce and I related the story to others but over the years we’ve kept a lot of the details to ourselves. It seems like so long ago. It was a long time ago. A long long time ago.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

A Werewolf’s Train to Nowhere

Right after I’d graduated from college (the first time) from one of the rare Universities (now a well respected and famous school) that accepted women I took a trip across country on a train to meet my brother Val. He’d gone to New York City without me, leaving me, a young woman, unescorted. I would have done fine on my own but back then, in 1881 young women, even Vampires, didn’t travel alone.

I got on the train on a dark full moon night and made my way to my car. I was to share a car with several other students and some sort of chaperone. What I found was three young men dressed in rather garish suits of the latest fashion (or so they thought) and nobody else. Two had short beards, again, the style of the time. I recognized one from school. The train started to move. There was no getting off. OK I could have jumped, but I was in a long dress with a bustle no less and jumping wasn’t a practical option. Contrary to popular belief I couldn’t turn myself into a bat and fly away. So I stayed. They were horrible the entire time making crude jokes and being as vulgar as they could be. They insulted me for being a Vampire, calling me dead and cold and well, they were vulgar to say the least. I was in Hell and ready to get off of the train.

I sat took claim to a settee with a small table and tried to ignore my garishly dressed companions. A young woman climbed aboard and the three men cheered. She was dressed as garish as they were in the most stylish of gowns but it was a bright orange color with brown beaded trim. Her hair was as orange as the dress and piled high on her head. That included a lot of fake hair to go along with her real hair.

She eyed me up and down. “Who invited the Vampire?”

“I’m Juliette,” I said to the Werewolf girl. Holy crap I’d been stuck for a cross country trip with four Werewolves. Every muscle and bone on my body tightened up. I wanted to scream. Instead I just kept my place in my corner while my companions made as much noise as they could laughing out loud and of course the alcohol and drugs came out. Of course.

Just as the parting whistle blew the door opened again and in stepped my friend Pierce. Finally, another Vampire had arrived, and a strong protective one at that. His father owned the train car and I didn’t even put the two together. Pierce was a friend of my brothers Max and Andy. At age 28 he was the oldest of our group. We made quite a contrast in our highly fashionable yet subdued attire compared to the flamboyant brightly dressed Werewolves. We were also a lot quieter.

The Werewolf girl who was named Phoebe gave Pierce a long hard look then smiled and licked her lips. Pierce is attractive with a narrow face, a sensuous mouth and dark heavily lashed eyes. Of course she noticed him. She’d no doubt try to have his clothes off, have her way with him then tear his throat out. Well, maybe not, but I didn’t want him to get her claws into a friend who was almost like a brother to me.

The males were Luke, Seth and Eldon. I’ll never forget their names. They were rude and loud and young. Had they been Vampires I might have thought they were fun, but since they were Werewolves I thought they were disgusting. Phoebe was just as bad with her crude laugh and dirty jokes.

Pierce and I played cards and stood on the back of the train in the night air. We mostly talked. I asked him about people we knew who’d gone out into the world – the young Vampires we’d grown up with. Pierce was on his way to New York. I was on my way to New York as well to meet my brother Valentine. After that we’d board a ship to London.

Conversations with the Werewolves were in bits and pieces of insults and crude jokes. Pierce’s father did business with their families. To keep the peace and keep favors in check he’d offered to let the young adults of the pack to ride with us. Also, by being with Vampires the Werewolves were more likely to behave themselves. At least that is what everyone thought.

On the second night, after a half of case of Champagne, the young Werewolf men, Luke, Seth and Eldon stripped naked right in front of us and said they were going out for a run. Phoebe decided to stay in. They ran out and I could hear them up on the roof of the train car howling, then down a side ladder and they were gone. Phoebe sat by the window looking at the full moon. She’d taken off her jacket and bodice down to a short-sleeved lace covered blouse. Long dark hair sprouted on her arms and hands. Her fingers grew claw like. Fur grew down the side of her face. She ignored us as a low growl came to the back of her throat as she watched for her pack mates.

Peirce and I watched three huge wolves run along the side of the train. The moonlight reflected off of their silvery gray fur. They were beautiful.

Then we heard horrifically loud shots. Our fellow passengers a few cars down were shooting at the wolves. Pierce ran out of the car. I could hear him shouting for the men with the guns to stop. Phoebe started to scream and scream and scream.

The next day we heard news of three young men found dead by the side of the tracks. The story was they had been drinking and had a fight on the top of the train and fell off after shooting each other.

I will never forget holding Phoebe in my arms and rocking her, trying to tell her that everything would be alright. I knew it would never be alright but I said it anyway.

For the next week as we made our way across the country she’d howl mournfully at night. The passengers said the train was haunted. I knew they’d brought on their own ghosts when they killed the wolves for no reason.

Werewolves and Vampires are predators but even we don’t partake in the senseless of killing animals for no reason other than target practice.

Pierce and I related the story to others but over the years we’ve kept a lot of the details to ourselves. It seems like so long ago. It was a long time ago. A long long time ago.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

First published here November 2014. I’ll be back with a new post soon. 

 

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America was founded by Vampires and Free Thinkers (or nobody wanted to be a Puritan – not really)

A lot of ignorant people like to spout off that America was settled/founded by Puritans. Sure they were here. But they settled a small area of North America – not every where. But they were so stick-up-your-ass intolerant and unfun that they aren’t around anymore. Nobody wanted to be a Puritan anymore. Can you blame them?

On the other hand, the Quakers, who were, and still are, gentle and kind folk, not to mention smart, are still around.

That brings us to Thanksgiving. I have to say a few words on that day before I go on. Please don’t make it political. People around the world celebrate feasts of THANKS. We should all be thankful for something, and we should all be thankful for the free thinking individuals who had the courage to go do new stuff and think new things and come up with cranberry sauce. President Abraham Lincoln established Thanksgiving as a national holiday during the Civil War. Look it up. It was a horrible time in United States history. We all needed to stop and reflect. That is a good thing. Being with family, friends, and even strangers is a good thing, no matter where your family is from and no matter what your religious or political beliefs are. On Thanksgiving we are all family. Take a day off from the BS and enjoy each other’s company guilt free. Now back to the history lesson…

Like now, the world in the 17th Century (the 1600’s for those of you who don’t know history) was not always a happy place for those who wished to worship, THINK, or live as they pleased. I say THINK out loud because it wasn’t all about religion. People left their countries of origin to go into the great unknown for a lot of reasons. I will explain this in a moment.

And you think, for someone to get onto a tiny ship and sail across an ocean for months takes a lot of guts. Things must be pretty bad where you came from.

Least we not forget those who did not come here of their own free will.

So witch burning aside I will give you a list of many of the groups who DID come over to the New World and groups who were already here.

  • Already here (Native American Tribes – and there were many)
  • Came over of their own free will for religious freedom
  • Came over because they were free thinkers
  • Came over for a job, commerce, or trade
  • Come over for the Millitary
  • Came for adventure
  • Came over to hide or escape
  • Forced to be here (slaves and indentured servants and prisoners)
  • Kicked out of everywhere else
  • Kind of came and went (Vikings etc)
  • Vampires.

For more information on any of the groups above please look it up on the Internet or at your local public library. Wikipedia is a good option if you’re in a hurry. Except the Vampire… I’ll give you the rundown on that really quick.

The first Vampires came to the colonies in the mid 1600’s. While a few came as individuals, most came in small groups organized by Nathaniel Chase. The first groups were from England, but they also came from France, Holland, Scotland and Ireland. Most left to flee persecution by both humans and other less progressive old guard Vampires. They established themselves as successful business and trade leaders, keeping their identities as Vampires secret. Their community grew and prospered. Today there are several groups still established, including my group, the “Modern Vampires.”  

Still feeling the Colonial America Vibe? Here is a list of some of my favorite books, movies and plays on the subject. Disclaimer: I’m stealing descriptions from other sites.

 

Books (not the movie, the book. Read the book.)

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare (1959)

You may have read this one in school or your kids might have. If you haven’t now is time to do so. I love this book.

Sixteen-year-old Kit Tyler is marked by suspicion and disapproval from the moment she arrives on the unfamiliar shores of colonial Connecticut in 1687. Alone and desperate, she has been forced to leave her beloved home on the island of Barbados and join a family she has never met. Torn between her quest for belonging and her desire to be true to herself, Kit struggles to survive in a hostile place. Just when it seems she must give up, she finds a kindred spirit. But Kit’s friendship with Hannah Tupper, believed by the colonists to be a witch, proves more taboo than she could have imagined and ultimately forces Kit to choose between her heart and her duty.

Elizabeth George Speare won the 1959 Newbery Medal for this portrayal of a heroine whom readers will admire for her unwavering sense of truth as well as her infinite capacity to love.

 

The Orphan Master by Jean Zimmerman

I can’t say enough good things about this book. Wow. This is one of the best books I’ve read – EVER. And one of my favorites. This is on the love list. THANK YOU JEAN ZIMMERMAN for writing this wonderful book.

It’s 1663 in the tiny, hardscrabble Dutch colony of New Amsterdam, now present-day southern Manhattan. Orphan children are going missing, and among those looking into the mysterious state of affairs are a quick-witted twenty-two-year-old trader, Blandine von Couvering, herself an orphan, and a dashing British spy named Edward Drummond.

Suspects abound, including the governor’s wealthy nephew, a green-eyed aristocrat with decadent tastes; an Algonquin trapper who may be possessed by a demon that turns people into cannibals; and the colony’s own corrupt and conflicted orphanmaster. Both the search for the killer and Edward and Blandine’s newfound romance are endangered, however, when Blandine is accused of being a witch and Edward is sentenced to hang for espionage. Meanwhile, war looms as the English king plans to wrest control of the colony.

 

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Heart and soul I love this book. Hester Prynne rocks!

Here is a rather dry description but believe me, it is part of American History and literary tradition.

The Scarlet Letter: A Romance is an 1850 work of fiction in a historical setting, written by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and is considered to be his magnum opus. Set in 17th-century Puritan Boston, Massachusetts, during the years 1642 to 1649, it tells the story of Hester Prynne, who conceives a daughter through an affair and struggles to create a new life of repentance and dignity. Throughout the book, Hawthorne explores themes of legalism, sin, and guilt.

Note and WARNING: Every time someone watches the movie “The Scarlett Letter” with Demi Moore a puppy dies. Every time someone says they like that movie they forfeit their soul to HELL. Plus you will lose ALL of my respect.

 

Young Goodman Brown, a story by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The story starts like this:

YOUNG GOODMAN BROWN came forth at sunset, into the street of Salem village, but put his head back, after crossing the threshold, to exchange a parting kiss with his young wife. And Faith, as the wife was aptly named, thrust her own pretty head into the street, letting the wind play with the pink ribbons of her cap, while she called to Goodman Brown.

“Dearest heart,” whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were close to his ear, “pr’y thee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed to-night. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she’s afeard of herself, sometimes. Pray, tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year!”

“My love and my Faith,” replied young Goodman Brown, “of all nights in the year, this one night must I tarry away from thee. My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done ‘twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married!”

“Then God bless you!” said Faith, with the pink ribbons, “and may you find all well, when you come back.”

“Amen!” cried Goodman Brown. “Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee.”

So they parted; and the young man pursued his way, until, being about to turn the corner by the meeting-house, he looked back and saw the head of Faith still peeping after him, with a melancholy air, in spite of her pink ribbons.

It all starts off nice and sweet but then it gets as sick and twisted as any slasher film. You can find a copy at your local library or bookstore or read it for free online.

 

Plays/Films (READ or SEE)

The Crucible by Arthur Miller (1953)

A powerful play about the Salem Witch Trials which also echoes the McCarthy witch hunts of the 1950’s.  This will make the hair on the back of your neck stand up because the truths of this play still run true today.

The Crucible is a 1953 play by the American playwright Arthur Miller. It is a dramatized and partially fictionalized story of the Salem witch trials that took place in the Province of Massachusetts Bay during 1692 and 1693. Miller wrote the play as an allegory of McCarthyism, when the U.S. government blacklisted accused communists. Miller himself was questioned by the House of Representatives’ Committee on Un-American Activities in 1956 and convicted of contempt of Congress for refusing to identify others present at meetings he had attended.

If you can find a live production of this play to see or know of a movie version that FOLLOWS THE PLAY then by all means please see this.

 

The Devil’s Disciple (1959 movie, 1897 play)

The Devil’s Disciple is an 1897 play written by Irish dramatist George Bernard Shaw. The play is Shaw’s eighth, and after Richard Mansfield’s original 1897 American production it was his first financial success, which helped to affirm his career as a playwright. It was published in Shaw’s 1901 collection Three Plays for Puritans together with Captain Brassbound’s Conversion and Caesar and Cleopatra. Set in Colonial America during the Revolutionary era, the play tells the story of Richard Dudgeon, a local outcast and self-proclaimed “Devil’s disciple”. In a twist characteristic of Shaw’s love of paradox, Dudgeon sacrifices himself in a Christ-like gesture despite his professed Infernal allegiance.

OMG I love this movie. I love this play. Such a fun story. The movie stars Kurt Douglas and Burt Lancaster (who are both hotter than a room full of Helmsworth brothers.)

Either see the play or the film version. This is one of my favorite movies.

 

Last of the Mohicans (1992)

This is not a feel good movie but it is so beautifully filmed and acted. And Daniel Day Louis is absolutely stunning.

A Toast of Thanksviging... and other stuff

A Toast of Thanksviging… and other stuff

 

 

Over the next week I’ll be posting more Thanksgiving fun. So keep checking back. Have fun going over the river and through the woods – and don’t forget to watch for Werewolves.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Rewriting American History with Gratuitous Sex and Historic Hotties

Rewriting American History with Gratuitous Sex and Historic Hotties

Some you might have heard of the new mini-series Sons of Liberty (not to be confused with Sons of Anarchy.) It was shown earlier this week on the History Channel. Of course this is the History Channel that has little or nothing to do with history anymore. It is more into shows about old junk and inbreeding among humans. Yes, we like Oak Island and my husband is a Pawn Star and Mike and Frank fan … but really where is the history? When the History Channel first came out it was known as the Hitler Channel because everything was about, well Hitler, but I don’t even know what to think now.

Sons of Liberty was not painfully boring as the other recent Revolutionary War series Turn. As you might recall, Turn was the one with Jamie Bell playing a guy who seemed to enjoy suffering in Colonial America. It was long, drawn out and totally confusing. A big snooze.

So I’ll try to make this quick because I have to drop someone off at school this morning then I have real work to do (places to go, people to see etc.)

The American Revolution and those who lived it were far more interesting than anything television producers have put out in their fictionalized versions. I hate to sound like another TV icon but “Just the facts ma’am.” PLEASE.

Getting back to Sons of Liberty…

The six hour mini-series on the American Revolution was sort of disjointed and confusing and half of it completely fictional. I know I already said that but I have to say it again.

Samuel Adams was a rock star of the American Revolution. But was Sam Adams a seriously sexy dark  brooding make your loins ache for him sort of guy? I never met Sam Adams, but I bet that wasn’t the usual reaction to him. Yes, he had a larger than life persona, and women might have been falling all over him but could he turn around and pass for a dark brooding sexy please-have-semi-rough-sex-with-me-please Vampire like Ben Barnes (the actor who plays Adams)? I doubt it. I know actors can’t always look like the people they play but come on History Channel. Really? Sam Adams was 49 years old in 1771. In 1776 he turned 54 (older than the average life span of the time.)

How the History Channel Sees Sam Adams in 1771.

sonsofliberty_samadams2-E

 

 

 

 

 

What Sam Adams REALLY looked like in 1771.

 

J_S_Copley_-_Samuel_Adams

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Other players in the Revolutionary War include:

John Hancock who was played by Rafe Spall. He was one of the only actors who was close to the real age of the character he played. The looks, though not exact, were closer than the others as well. And if you don’t already know, John Hancock was known for his beautiful handwriting.

How the History Channel sees John Hancock in 1771.

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What John Hancock really looked like in 1771.

 John_Hancock_1770-crop

Joseph Warren was a wealthy and educated widower with four young children. He unfortunately and tragically died in the battle of Bunker Hill. I seriously doubt if he had an affair with the part-time spy and wife of General Gage, Margaret Kimbell Gage. Warren was 30 in 1771. Margaret Gage was 37, not the delicate young thing (played by the lovely Emily Berrington.) The real Margaret was beautiful and fashionable but risking an affair was dangerous business. Very dangerous. Margaret was said to have anywhere from 8 – 11 children (she gave birth to one in 1776, how fitting) which leaves her little time or energy for an affair with a younger man. I might be wrong but I doubt it. My daughter mentioned “Ohhhh a revolutionary cougar.” But then again, when something is on TV they MUST add the gratuitous sex scenes. And if you’re a fan of gratuitous sex scenes I hear there will be a second season of Penny Dreadful.

How the History Channel sees Joseph Warren in 1771.

sonsofliberty_warren2-E

What Joseph Warren really looked like in 1771.

 JosephWarrenByCopley

How the History Channel sees Margaret Gage in 1771.

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What Margaret Gage really looked like in 1771.

640px-Margaret_Kemble_Gage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So there you go, the unreal version of the American Revolution from the viewpoint of The History Channel. Huzzah.

So what am I trying to say here? The people involved in the American Revolutionary War were already sexy enough without someone rewriting them into something else.

More on Tee-Vee, history and Vampires later. By the way, neither Joseph Warren or Paul Revere became Vampires or Werewolves. It didn’t happen.

And if you DO need to involve yourself in some gratuitous sex/romance/creativity AND make history – don’t forget to enter the Vampire Maman Love Letter Contest. CLICK HERE for details.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman