Monologue in the character of Edgar Alan Poe
All of you know who I am. I’m the author, who wrote one of the poems that you have read. What can I tell you about my self? My life wasn’t happy. I never really knew my parents. My father David Poe left our family early on, and my mother Elizabeth Poe died when I was only two. I was separated from my siblings and went to live with John and Frances Allan. My brother Henry, went to live with our grandparents and Rosalie my sister was taken in by another family.
I went to the university but I didn’t have enough money to afford it so I start gambling which ended up in debt and drinking alcohol. All of that caused a very serious fights with my stepfather who decided to stop giving me money. I couldn’t afford my school so I decided to join the army. I stayed there for two years.
From 1831 to 1835 I stayed in Baltimore with my aunt Maria Clemm and her daughter Virginia. The first time I met her was four months after my discharge from the army. She was seven at the time. She was my cousin, literary inspiration and love. We got married in 1836, Virginia was just 13 years old and I was 27. But that wasn’t a problem for us. We loved each other so much that we didn’t care. When I was with her I was happy. She was my everything. I have never loved any one as much as I loved her. No one was ever as close to me as she was. Some people said that we were more like a brother and sister not like a couple. But she was more than just a sister. She understood me, took care of me. “You ask, but how can you fall in love with someone so young? Well, let me tell you—she was young, it’s true. But she was pure. Where else will you find innocence in such a perfect state? You ask, but she was your cousin! This is incest! Well, let me tell you, she was my cousin in blood yes. But her soul was my soul. Why should we let the conventions of society determine who we are capable of loving? I never listened to conventions. I am an artist! And she was my love.” Do you see?
In 1842 my little wife had developed consumption (Tuberculosis). Tuberculosis is an infection disease it affects the lungs but it can also affect other organs. It all begun with chest pain and coughing up blood. Then she start losing weight, had a fever and night sweets. The biggest problem is that it spreads when affected person laughs, sneezes or talks. I felt so useless, there was no way I could help her. I watched her suffer and there was nothing I could do for her. “As she got closer and closer to death, I would walk the streets of Baltimore trying to escape. That’s when I was visited by the raven for the first time. You say, oh the raven—that was a big metaphor in your most famous poem. But no—I say the raven was real! He would follow me on my walks, haunt me, remind me of Virginia’s pain and never offer me relief! I would try to fling him from my shoulders, get him to depart, but he always remained above me. He never said a word—I only interpreted that silence as “nevermore”. As I was thinking more and more about my love, I felt in to depression. I became insane.
It was such a big pain when she died. Her death killed me. I was alive outside but dead from inside. After she was gone I didn’t care any more, whether I’m going to live an hour, a week or a year. I couldn’t really believe that she was dead. I could still talk to her. I saw her standing right next to me. I remember when she was sitting and hugging me while I was writing the poems but when she died, she became the raven. Why? Why, when I got such a big love in my life I had to lose it. People all ways found me to be mysterious just because of the way I was. They never understood me but Virginia did. She was the only reason in my life that made me happy. Happiness that I never experienced in my childhood was given to me with my little Virginia. And then it was stolen from me. Again. I refused to look at my dead wife’s face, I preferred to remember her living. I don’t know why. I guess I just didn’t want to believe in her death. It was to hard.
Since the beginning I had problems with alcohol. But it was the only way to run away from my problems. The only way to forget about them. The only way to make my mouth smile. The raven was still follows following me everywhere I went go. It was is Virginia. I know. She wants ed me there with her on the other side. She wants ed me to join her. Since Virginia died the raven become her. My life wasn’t the same any more. It seemed as I was living in the nightmare. Every day, every night, every hour was killing me with thoughts.
They say that my death was mysterious. It wasn’t. On October 3rd I was found in Baltimore by a men called Joseph. I poor soul didn’t feel well so he took me to the hospital I stayed there for a few days. The doctor didn’t really know what was happening in my body. After few days spent in the hospital, I finally died.
The real reason my hart died is the lost loss of my love. My hart couldn’t stay alive without Virginia. The reason how my soul left my body is a secret to you. I didn’t die in October 7, 1849 as people think. I died in January 30 1847 together with my love. Now I’m with her, with the raven. There is no more pain. That’s why the last lines of my poem are true – that the raven is still sitting, still sitting, and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, shall be lifted, nevermore!!!