Edgar Allan Poe
(1809 - 1849)

EXCLUSIVE! The Death of Edgar Allan Poe

It is with a heavy heart and great sadness that I announce the death of my dear friend and colleague, Edgar Allan Poe. Master Poe died this day, in the Year of Our Lord, 1849.

The details surrounding his death are quite mysterious. Master Poe was found in a state of “great distress” and filthy manner outside of Ryan’s Tavern, whereupon he was transported with haste to the University Hospital. The appearance of his person and clothing were quite perplexing, considering his usually dapper character. Poe was found unkempt, with matted hair and, according to some accounts, he was wearing a straw hat and pantaloons. Can you imagine? For those of us who know Master Poe from more refined circles, we are accustomed to quite a different portrait of the gentleman!

As I have detailed in my own extensive and well-regarded writing, Master Poe’s behavior of late has been quite unnerving and, at times even, unhinged. He has been seen about town, on the lash, quoting his own work, and quite positively cavorting with ghosts, namely that of his dead wife, Virginia.

In terms of the incident, there have been reports that Poe’s death was due to an illness, such as: cholera, influenza, or even syphilis. On the other hand, some suspect a more dramatic or sinister cause, such as: suicide, murder or cooping (the practice of abducting and forcing intoxicated or incapacitated men to vote on behalf of a specific candidate). However, my own theory, as I have warned (Dare I say foretold?) in many of my previous writings, is that Master Poe finally succumbed to brain congestion, due to his lack of temperance and overindulgence in the spirits. Readers, let this serve as a lesson on the dark influence of imbibing, and please heed my call on the virtue of temperance!

Poe was incapacitated by his unknown affliction during his short committal. Unable to communicate lucidly with his physicians (save his repeatedly calling out the name “Reynolds!”) I fear that the definitive source of his malady may have died with him. Incidentally, having spoken with many a fellow quite dear to Edgar, to a man, we know of no such, “Reynolds.”

Poe’s last words were reportedly, “Lord, help my poor soul.” Dear Readers, I ask that you take a moment to pray to our Heavenly Father that dear Edgar’s last request might be honored. And, that he will be welcomed into Heaven, where his dearly departed Virginia awaits. May his soul find peace there, at last, at the feet of our ever loving and forgiving Father.

 

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