I agree with everything you said. I think he lived a hard, sad life and with his talent he managed to create beautiful literary works. Some of his short stories and poems are literally incomparable.DATo wrote:Despite the dark and gloomy nature of Poe's themes I consider Poe to be America's greatest poet. As I have often mentioned on these forums, Poe's poem, The Bells, is considered by critics on both sides of the Atlantic to be the greatest "sound poem" in the English language. It is a sobering thought to consider that his most famous poem, The Raven, was written in one sitting. Poe was without question a literary genius whose lyrically musical phrasing flies in the face of the somber moods they describe. He could effortlessly employ poetic devices such as alliteration ...
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
"And the silken, sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain .."
... at will, while simultaneously weaving a story of unbridled effect which plays to the ear like a symphonic melody.
Poe lived a very troubled life. His drunken father abandoned the family when he was a child and left them practically destitute. He was then adopted by a rich family who treated him coldly and allowed him only a miserly stipend to live on while at school - approximately 1/3 of what he needed. He was expelled from the Virginia Military Institute. He then failed at various ventures and we all know of the death of the cousin to whom he was married which resulted in his attempted suicide shortly after by drinking opiates. When he was found unconscious on the streets of Baltimore four days before he died he was dressed like a pauper in torn and filthy clothes.
Despite the devils which plagued his life his inner soul expressed his torments in magnificently beautiful and soaring word craftsmanship. Perhaps this was the only means by which Poe could find the beauty in the world which had been so elusive to him all his life. It is interesting to consider: was Vincent Van Gogh demented?, was Poe? If they were demented they still managed to leave to this world a legacy of beauty and genius - perhaps the concentrated beauty for which they had both yearned but never found.
I can only imagine what was in Poe's mind and heart when he penned the following words. Shall we call this "demented"? Perhaps a better word would be "devastated?.
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
I think there are a lot of times where someone who has gone through unspeakable horrors manages to convert their experience into magnificent art that is both beautiful yet devastating.
There is a certain depth and sophistication in tragic things that we as human-beings find so alluring.
