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Рое gained some recognition while he was still living; he won some
prizes — but he was mainly unknown and left alone. The French were the first
to appreciate his true genius, particularly the poet Baudelaire. This, in turn,
brought him recognition at home, but only after his death.
The Final Despair. When Poe was twenty-seven he married his fourteen-
year-old cousin, Virginia. The sad fact is that this delicate and beautiful girl
continued to be а child in mind as she grew older, and she was incapable of
understanding Рое's moods and genius.
Eventually she, too, left him, for she died in freezing weather in а
miserable cottage they shared, with Рое’s coat over her and even the cat on her
chest to try to keep her warm while Poe held her hands. It was а frightful,
horrible scene — the kind of horror that could have come from his tortured
mind.
His wife’s illness and death had а crushing effect on Рое. Не continued to
write, but he also drank and settled further into despair. Two letters he wrote tell
us of his state. First, this, to а friend;
“For the last three or four months, I have been working fourteen or fifteen
hours а day — and yet I have no money! I am as poor now as ever I was in my
life — except in hope, which is by no means bankable.”
And to someone who had invited him to dinner he wrote: “Dear Sir! Your
kind invitation to dinner today has wounded me to the quick. I cannot come —
and for reasons of the most humiliating nature — my personal appearance. You
may conceive my deep mortification in making this disclosure to you - but it
was necessary. If you will be my friend so far as to loan me twenty dollars, I
will call on you tomorrow — otherwise it will be impossible and I must submit
to my fate.”
One day in October 1849 а physician in Baltimore received this message
from а printer in that city: “Dear Sir: There is а gentleman, rather the worse for
wear, ... who goes under the cognomen of Edgar А. Рое, and who appears in
great distress, and he says he is acquainted with you, and I assure you he is in
need of immediate assistance.” The doctor came, and found that it was indeed
Рое, and that he was dying. As he died, he uttered the words “Lord, help my
poor soul.” Thus ended the life of one of America' s greatest authors — one who
searched his imagination and found words to describe what he saw.
GLOSSARY
haunting not easily forgotten; often coming to mind
wicked very bad; evil
oblivion the state of being forgotten
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