Though Edgar was not my own son by blood, he was truly a son to myself. He was my son in law, married to my last daughter Virginia. The two of us were very close and we had shared great times together Eddie and I.
Since Edgar came to live with Virginia and myself in 1831, 5 years before their marriage, I initially came to see the man that Edgar was. A very truly talented man with a mind of a genius and an attitude of passion, of which he was. Regrettably however, he was a man who, as in his own words, believed he was ‘tainted by misfortunes’. Through our many conversations and letters written to each other, he told me about the unfortunate grievances he’d dealt with in life. Most part, the death of many family and friends who he cared for.
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While we still had our struggles with money, having to move to accommodate Poe’s employment, the support from our close friends, family and from Edgar meant a lot to Virginia and myself.
While living with us, Edgar, Virginia and I had many joyous times playing games and having fun. I’d watch as they sat together at the piano, playing and laughing. Virginia would go outside to pick flowers and skip rope, they would take walks together in the garden while talking and singing, then coming back inside to make dinner together, always together.
If they weren’t playing games, Edgar often taught Virginia how to play the flute and about algebra. You could tell in his soul, that he was a very devoted, loving and caring husband to my dear Virginia. Over the years I saw as Edgar and Virginia grew ever closer. With her companionship she sheltered him through the storms of literary life and he sheltered her with protection and affection.
A fond memory I have of our time in the garden was when Poe and Virginia were playing a game of hop frog across each other’s backs. But after jumping too high Poe had split his pants, I can’t forget that silly moment. Edgars face was red in embarrassment as Virginia was full of laughter and couldn’t stop