Whenever I look at drawings or photos of Edgar Allan Poe, his eyes always had a look of sadness. On visiting this Historic Site and learning of his life, I can perhaps understand why.

Poe had ambitions to be not just a writer, but and editor of a major literary journal. Throughout his life, he seemed within grasp of that dream - sometimes actually attaining it for a short time, only to have it slip away.

His own writings were already very successful, making his name fairly well known, but that success never seemed to translate to a happy life. His own wife contracted tuberculosis (the same disease that claimed his mother) and after a few years, succumbed to it.

Poe did not outlive his wife by very many years. He left Richmond on a trip to New York. Days later, he was found in Baltimore, delirious and unresponsive. Though taken to a hospital, he dies a few days later. No one knew what had happened, and no cause of death was ever determined. A sad ending to a sad life.