Greetings to those brave enough to break this delicate threshold. The Raven Post has been waiting for you.
I, your humble Editor-in-Chief, have long awaited this day; countless moons I (and, of course, my equally humble staff) have spent gathering tales and verses of the most disreputable sort, recording each hastening dash and squirming comma with utmost precision.
Who are we, you ask? Allow me to enlighten you: We are an entirely electronic anthology of shocking and scintillating fiction, designed to memorialize past voices and introduce new ones to our honorable readership. All things ghastly and gruesome may be found within our many pages, and we have worked hard to curate a prime selection just in time for the Hallowe’en season.
In fact, the precise date of this post’s publishing—and the release date of this paper’s inaugural issue—is of much significance to those invested in all things dark and dismal: October 7, 2023, precisely one hundred and seventy-four years after the death of this publication’s spiritual proprietor, Edgar Allan Poe. In the biography section of Poe’s author page, which you’ll find dutifully cataloged within the “Prose” tab’s “Tales of Olde” subheading, we briefly discuss the mysterious circumstances of his demise, which took place around 5 a.m. on October 7, 1849. At the time of his death, the esteemed writer, poet, and literary critic was but forty years of age. We here at The Raven Post consider ourselves indirect descendants of (and relative experts in) Poe’s literary oeuvre, and as such, we would like to take this distinctive opportunity to more thoroughly unpack what is perhaps the greatest enduring mystery of Poe’s life and legacy.
The facts are thus: On October 3, 1849, patrons of Gunner’s Hall, a Baltimore tavern, found a disheveled Poe rambling in a delirious manner inside the establishment. For a week prior to this sighting, the writer’s whereabouts were—and are—unknown, though in the preceding months, he had reportedly expressed interest in leaving New York City, where he lived at the time, to accept an editing position elsewhere. An acquaintance of Poe’s, Joseph E. Snodgrass, received news of his troubled state and intercepted him at the tavern. Snodgrass later described Poe as “repulsive” and his eyes as “lusterless and vacant,” and he noted that the writer’s clothes were shabby and ill-fitting. These were later surmised to be another man’s garments, though this man’s identity and whereabouts are unclear. Poe’s physician, John Joseph Moran, helped him to the nearby Washington College Hospital, where he cared for the poet for several days. Reportedly, Poe passed between lucidity and delirium several times during this period and frequently called out for someone named “Reynolds;” though theories surrounding Reynolds’s identity abound (some suggest a newspaper editor Poe knew, while others surmise a judge who was overseeing a polling place near Gunner’s Hall), no one is certain to whom the writer allegedly referred. In the early morning of October 7, Poe at last succumbed to his mysterious condition. According to Moran, Poe’s final words before passing were, “Lord, help my poor soul.”
While this account is certainly dramatic, particular elements are, at best, the unreliable report of one man, and, at worst, the result of total speculation. Washington College Hospital, Moran, or perhaps Poe himself reportedly denied the author visitors during his final days, and as such, any reports of Poe’s behavior, appearance, or speech during this period are only as reliable as Moran himself. Incidentally, Moran later claimed to have immediately notified Poe’s aunt, Maria Clemm, of her nephew’s death, though in truth, he only wrote to her upon her request one month after the fact.
Theories surrounding Poe’s death have proliferated in the many years since, so for the sake of concision, we will address only the most significant here. Snodgrass, one of the last people to see Poe alive, attributed his delirious state (and ultimate demise) to alcohol poisoning, though Snodgrass himself championed the temperance movement, giving many historians cause to doubt his credibility. Such ailments as heart or brain disease, diabetes, epilepsy, meningeal inflammation, and cholera have been suggested by various parties, though none of these have been definitively proven, and all of Poe’s medical records, including his death certificate, have been lost. Some papers at the time reported his cause of death as “congestion of the brain,” though some claim this was a euphemistic phrase publications used to reference “dishonorable” causes of death, such as alcohol poisoning. More recent theories suggest rabies or perhaps carbon monoxide poisoning, but as Poe’s records are lost to time, we may never know the absolute truth.
Regardless of the fascination many devotees (including ourselves) glean from tales of the poet’s death, it is, both then and now, a tragedy. Our indulgence in any speculation on the topic is purely hypothetical, and we hope not to spread inaccurate information by sharing an account of these events.
May Poe rest in peace, and (while The Raven Post‘s code of ethics generally prohibits professional endorsement of any particular religion) may the Lord, indeed, help his poor soul.
The Raven Post 